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-Jviw. Maukt of St Clair, who, flyiug from his native touutt), uu account of his share in the insurrection in i -i >, maid* wiiwr *tsy at Kirkwall.

* I had tutiKJoti (o entertain myself at Kirkwall with the iMt'l unholy prospect of the ruins of an old castle, lh*> nv«l of the old Earls of Orkney, my ancestors; and i»t « uuiic melancholy reflection, of so great and noble AU v»t«le a* the Orkney and Shetland Isles being taken (rum one of them by James the Third for faultre, after In* brother Alexander, Duke of Albany, hail married a >Uuilltlri of my family, and for protecting and defeudio|i ihr wid Alexanderagainst the king, who wished to kill him, ** he had done his youngest brother, the Earl of Mur , und for which, afterthc forfaltrie, he gratefutt} divorced my forfaulted ancestor's sister; though I (4111101 persuade myself that he had any misalliance to pli'iol xfjaiiist a familie in whose veins the blood nf (total I Uruie run as fresh as in his own; for their title to the Itiiwii was by a daughter of David Bruce, sou to Itoltrit , and our alliance was by marrying a grandfluid nf the tame llobcrt Brute, and daughter to the »o>tii of the ymr David, out of the familie of Douglas; with It ni that lime did not much sullie the blood, mon: Iiiin my Mnrehtour's having not long before had the honour of marrying a daughter of the king of DeiiHi.tik«, who was named Florentine, and has left in the I0wn uf Kirkwall a noble monument of the grandeur of lit* limes, the finest chnrclfcyer I saw entire in Scotlaud. I then li.nl no small reason to think, in that unli'ippy Mate, on the many not inconsiderable services rendu red siuce to the royal famihe, for these many years hy'gone, on all orcasious when they stood most in need uf /rieudh, which they have thoiigiit themselves very often obliged to acknowledge by letters yet extant, and in a stile rnooe like friends than souveraigns; our atUi buieut to them, without any oilier thanks, having \ brought upon us considerable losses, and among others, thai of our all in Cromwell s time; and left in that condition, without the least relief except what we found in our own virtue. My father was ihc only mad of the HcoU nation who lud courage enough to protest in parlMineiil against King William's title to the throne, whieh was lost, Cod kuows bow ; and this at a time when the looses in the cause of the royal familie, and their iisii.il gratitude, had scarce left him bread to maintain a numerous familie of eleven children, who had •oon after sprung up on him, in spite of all which, he had honourably persisted in bis principle. I say, these things considered, and after being treated as I was, and iu that uuluckic state, when objects appear to men in their true light, as at the hour of death, could I be blamed fur making some bitter reflections to myself, and laughing at the extravagance and unaccountable humour of men, and the singularity of my own case (nn exile for the cause" of the Sluart family), when I ought to have known, that the greatest crime I, or my family, could have committed, was persevering, to my own destruction, in serving the royal family faithfully, though obstinately, after so great a share of depression, and after they had been pleased to doom me and my family to starve."—MS. Memoirs of John, Master of St Clair.

Note iG. Stanza xxii.

Kinf,i of ilit; main th.ir I<3iil>:r* Wave,
Thoir lurk* ibu drajwii of ihu wire

The chiefs of the t'akingr, or Scandinavian piratc\

assumed the title of S&kounngr, or Sea-kings. Sb in the inflated lauguage of the Scalds, are often ten the serpeuta of the ocean.

Note 17. Stanza xxii.

Of ihaiaea-snak'e, tremendoa* curl'd,
Wbutc moatlroua circle gird* the world.

The jarmungandr, or snake of the ocean, vl folds surround the earth, is one of the wildest ficti of the Edda. It was very nearly caught by the 1 Tlior, who went to fish for it with a hook baited wii bull's head. In the battle betwixt the evil demon* the divinities of Odin, which is to precede the fitj raokrt or Twilight of the (.oils, this snake is ton conspicuous part.

Note 18. Stanza xxii.

Of ibouj drtttd maldi, *rbo&e bideoot jell
Maddt^ui ihe taitlo'i blond; swell.

These were the Valkyriur, or Selectors of the 4 dispatched by Odin from Valhalla, to cause tlio* \ were to die, and to distribute the contest. They well known to the English reader, as Grays fi

Sisters.

Note 19. Stanza xxii.
Ranuck'd ib<? grarc* of «Tirrjor* oW,
Tbiir faUhiuni wrt-ooli'd from corpi««' bold.

The northern warriors were usually entombed * their arms, and their other treasures. Thus, Anfjanl before commencing the duel in which he was >uiu,: pulaled, that if he fell, his sword Tyrfing »iim»w buried with him. His daughter, Uervor, aftm" took it from his tomb. The dialogue which pi-' I twixt her and Anganiyr's- spirit on this oecavionha*^ often translated. The-whole history maybefoao" the Harvarar-Saga. Indeed the ghosts of the nortln warriors were not wont tamely to suffer their lorn** he plundered,- and hence the mortal heroes liitd 301 dilion.ll temptation to attempt such adventure*; I they'held nothing more worthy of their valour •!«■ encounter supernatural beings.—Bartholin f»^ w* contcmpUe a Dauis mortis, lib. 1, cap. 2,9, t°» '*■

Note 20. Stan/a xxiii.

—Moia belle.

This* was a family name in the. house of StGj Henry St Clair, the second son of the line, married sabelle, fourth daughter of the Karl of Strathcm*"

Note 31. Stauza xxiii.

Cattle tUvenkbescfc.

A large and strong ca&llc, now ruinous, situated twixt Kirkaldy and Dysart, on a steep crag, '•"Jf the Frith of Forth. It was conferred 00 Sir^lllJ St Clair, as a slight compensation for the earldom Orkney, by a cliarter of King James III. dated in M? and is now the property of Sir James St Cuir ■" (now Earl of Rosslyn), representative of the hm^ was long a principal residence of the bnrons of

Note 12. Stauza xxiii.

Seem d all on fire thai cbapel broad.

*AV r« Roalin a cbirfi oewilno «*''':
Lath Unm. for a table •broad.

Shcalti'd in hii Iron paaoply.

The beautiful ehapel of Koslin is still in wU» preservation. It was founded in i#0 bJ"

Can-, Prioce of Orkney, Duke of Olden bo urgh, Earl

wfdithBrsfa»d Stratherne, Lord Saint Clair, Lord Nid

■5*klt, Lord Admiral of f lie Scottish seas, Lord Chief

i*tiw of Scotland, Lord, Warden of the three Marches,

brta of Aoslio, Pent land, Pent land-moor, etc. Knight

f the Cockle and of the Carter (as is afSrrned), High

. Gujvtjjot, Chamberlain, and Lieutenant of Scotland.

Cm lofty pmon, whose titles, says Codscroft, might

wry i Spaniard, built the castle of Roslin, where lie

ffffibd Id princelv splendour, and founded (he chapel,

j thtfb ii in the most rich and florid style of Cothic ar

1 riuifctiw. Among the profuse carving on the pillars

i ~>kJ Uttrriie*, the rose is frequently introduced, in al

Iiasoa to lb* name, with which, liowever, the flower has D Tuneiion; the etymology being Rosslinnhe, the probatory of the linn, or water-fall. The chapel is said If. ifpar oo fire previous to the death of any of his fecaidanU. This superstition, noticed by Slezcr in hi* Thtttnm Scot'up, and alluded to in the text, is probably &f Norwegian deriration, and may have been imported j by ihe Eirls of Orkney into their Lothian domains. j TV tomb-fir^ of the north are mentioned in most of j rbt ag».

!Tbe fiirooi of Roslin were buried in a raull near the fiipd floor. The manner of their interment is Urns

, bribed by Father Hay, in the MS. history already

lfMti

■ Sir William Sinclair, the father, was a leud man. B> kept a miller's daughter, with whom, it isalledged,

1 Wish to Ireland; vet I think the cause of his retreat »isntf*r occasioned by the presbyterians, who vexed ^ffl«dh, because of his religion being Roman cathofc Bte«n, Sir William, died during the troubles, and 'J'stirred in the chapel of Roslin, the very same day fef the Utile of Dunbar was fought. When my good k£*T »as buried, his (i. e. Sir William's) corpseseemed B^anire at the opening of the cave; but when they ^v to touch his body, it fell into dust. He was laying t *& armour, with a red velvet cap on his head, on a know; nothing was spoiled except a piece of the *-i' furring,'that went round the cap, and answered Bl &■ binder part of the head. All his predecessors ,fw buried after (be nmo manner, in their armour ^ftf*line, my good-father, was the first that was bu 'ttiflieofnu, against the sentiments of King James

i '* Sneotb, who was then in Scotland, and several

t ^"T persons well versed in antiquity, to whom my Bo"k? would not hearken, thinking it beggarly to be ■^ after that manner. The great expenses she was Uj, burying her husband occasioned the sumptuary *ts wkicb were made in the following parliament.»

Note ?3. Stanta xxvi.

■cti.itv, coai'*

Vtheitory of Gilpin Horner, pp. ,'jo, ^i.
Note 24* Stania xxvi.

Fortwwai *p^.-rhl«#, ghaitly, wan. -»

Like bin of wrbom the •lory ran,
*vj »f*oke the *pectru-bound En San.

■> ancient castle of Peel-town, in the Isle of Man, * strroaoded by four churches, now ruinous. Through > of ihese chapels there was formerly a passage

-a ine guard-room of the garrison. This was closed, K * a'd, upon the following occasion: « They say, that *s >P[«ruiou, called in the Mankish language, the

Mnutlie Doog, in the shape of a large black spaniel, with curled shaggy hair, was used to haunt Peel-castle; and has been frequently seen in every room, but particularly in the.guard-chamber, where, as soon as candles were lighted, it came and lay down before the fire, in presence of all (he soldiers, who, at length, by being so much accustomed to the sight of it, lost great part of the terror they were seized with at its first appearance. They still, however, retained a certain awe, as believing it was an evil spirit, which only waited permission to do them hurt; and, for that reason, forbore swearing, and all prophane di*>course, while in its company. But though they endured the shock of such a guest when altogether in a body, none cared to be left alone with it. It being the custom, therefore, for one of the soldiers to lock the gates of the castle at a certain hour, and carry the keys to the captain, to whose apartment, as I said before, the way led through the church, they agreed among themselves, that whoever was to succeed the ensuing night his fellow in this errand, should accompany him that went first, and by this means no man would be exposed singly to the danger: for I fotgot to mention, that the Mauthe Doog, was always seen to come out from that passage at the close of day; and return to it-again as soon as the morning dawned ; which made them look on this place as its peculiar residence.

« One night, a fellow being drunk, and by the strength of his liquor rendered more daring than ordinarily, laughed at the simplicity of his companions; aud, though it was not his turn to go with the keys, would needs take that office upon him to testify his courage. All the soldiers endeavoured to dissuade him; but the more they said, the more resolute he seemed, and swore that he desired nothing more than that (he Mauthe Doog would follow him, as it had done the others; for be would try if it were dog or devil. Arter having talked in a very reprobate manner for some time, lie snatched up the keys, and went out of the guard-room; in some lime after his departure, a great noise was heard, but nobody had the boldness to see what occasioned it, till, the adventurer returning, they demanded the knowledge of him.; but as loud aud noisy as he had been at leaving tjiem, he was now become sober and silent enough; for he was never heard to speak more: aud though all the time he lived, which was three days, he was entreated by all who came near him, either to speak, or if he could not do that, to make some signs, by which they might understand what bad happened to him; yet nothing intelligible could be got from'him, only that, by the distortion of his limbs and features, it might be guessed that he died in agonies more than is common in a natural death.

« The Mauthe Doog was, however, never after seen iu the castle, nor would any one attempt to go through that passage; for which reason it was closed up, and another way made. This accident happened about threescore years since: and I heard it attested by several, but especially by an old soldier, who assured mr he had seen it ofteuer than he had then hairs on his hcad.»—\vai.dro,\'s Description of the Isle of Man, p. 107.

Note 25. Stanza xxvli.

And hr> a Mtlemo jutm'ri i>Iif;ui
Did to St Bride of DoU|>la* make.

This was a favourite saint of the house of Douglas,

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TO THE RIGHT HONOURARLE HENRY, LORD MONTAGUE, Etc. Cilia Romance is Jlnsntbru,

BY THE AUTHOR.

ADVERTISEMENT.

It is hardly to be expected that an author whom the public has honoured with some degree of applause, should not be again a trespasser on their kindness. Yet the author of Mabmios must be supposed to feel some anxiety concerning its success, since he is sensible that he hafards, by this second intrusion, any reputation which his first poem may have procured him. The present story turns upon the private adventures of a fictitious character; but is called a Tale of Flodden Field, because the hero's fate is connected with that memorable defeat, and the causes which led toil. The design of the author was, if possible, lo apprise his readers, at the outset, of the date of his story, and ta prepare them for the manners of the age in which it is laid. Any historical narrative, far more an attempt at epic composition, exceeds his plan of a romantic tale; yet he may be permitted to hope, from the popularity of Tax Lit Of Tiib Ust Minst»ei., that an attempt to paint the manners of the feudal times, upon a broader scale, and in the course of a more interesting story, will not be unacceptable to the public. I The Poem opens about the commencement of August, and concludes with the defeat of Flodden, 9lh September, 15i3.

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Late, gazing down the steepy linn,
That hems our little garden in.
Low in its dork and nafrow glen.
You scarce the rivulet might ken,
So thick the tangled green-wood grew.
So feeble trill'd the streamlet through:
Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent sec
Through bush and briar, no longer green,
An angry brook it sweeps tbe glade,
Brawls over rock and wild cascade.
And, foaming brown with doubled speed,
Hurries its waters to the Tweed.

No longer autumn's glowing red
Upon our Forest hills is shed;
No more, beneath lite evening beam.
Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam;
Away hath pass'd the heather-bell
That bloom'd so rich on Need path-fell;
Sallow his brow, and russet bare
Are now the sister-heights of Yare.
The sheep, before the pinching heaven.
To shelter'd dale and down arc driven.
Where yet some faded herbage pines.
And yet a watery sun-beam slimes:
In meek despondency they eye
The wither'd sward and wintry sky,
And far beneath their summer bill,
Stray sadly by Glenkiuuon's rill:
The shepherd shifts bis mantle's fold,
And wraps him closer from the cold;
His dogs uo merry circles wheel,
But, shivering, follow at bis heel;
A cowering glance they often cast.
As deeper moans the gathering blast.

My imps, though hardy, bold, and wild.
As best bents the mountain-child,
Feel ibe sad influence of tbe hour.
And wail (he daisy's vanish'd Jlower;

TVir summer gambols tell, and mourn,
And anxious ask,—Will spring return,
.And birds and lambs attain be gay,
And blossoms clothe the hawthorn spray?

Yet, prattlers, yes. The daisy's flower
Apia shall paint your summer bower;
igiio the hawthorn sliall supply
TV garlands you delight to tie;
TV lamb* upon the lea shall bound,
TV wild birds carol to the round,
And -while you frolic light as they,
Tot short shall seem the sum mer day.

To mute and to material things
-Vw life revolving summer brings;
TV feoiJ call dead Mature hears.
And in her glory re-appears.
Batob! my country's wintry state
What second spring sliall renovate?
Wiut powerful call shall bid arise
TV buried warlike and the wise;
Tbe mind that thought for Britain's weal,
TV bam! that grasp"d the victor steel?
TV vernal sun new life bestows
ETtnon the meanest flower that blows;
Bat vainly, vainly may he shine
WhereGlory weeps o'er Nelson's shrine;
And vainly pierce the solemn gloom
Tflatibrouds, O Pitt, thy hallow'd tomb!

Deep graved in every British heart,
Ooerer let those names depart!
Say to your sons,—Lo, here his grave,
^V. victor died on Gadite wave;
To him, as to the burning levin,
SWl, bright, resistless course was given;
*Vrc'cr hw country's foes were fohud,
*ii heard the fated thunder's sound,
Till burst the bolt on yonder shore,
Retfd, blazed, destroy'd,—and was no more.

5or mourn ye less his perish'd worth, *ho bade the conqueror go forth, And launch'd that thunderbolt of war On Egypt, Hafnia,' Trafalgar; Who, born to guide such high emprize, For Britain's weal was early wise; A'.k' to whom the Almighty gave, For Britain* sins, an early grave; R» worth, who, in liis mightiest hour, A bauble held the pride of power, Spnra'd at the sordid lust of pelf, And served his Albion for herself; *bo, when the frantic crowd amain Straiad at subjection's bursting rein, "tr their wild mood full conquest gaiu'd,. TV pride he would not crush restrain'd, Sbow'd their fierce zeal a worthier cause, And brought the freeman's arm to aid the freeman's laws.

Ihwist thon hut lived, though stripp'd of power, A "atchman on the lonely tower,

Thy thrilling trump had roused the lailJ,

When fraud or danger were at hand;

By thee, as by the beacon-light,

Our pilots had kept course aright;

As some proud column, though alone,

Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne.

Now is the stately column broke.

The beacon-light is quench*d in smoke,

The trumpet's silver sound is still,

The warder silent oo the hill!

Oh! think, how to his latest day.
When death, just hovering, cvaim'd his prey,
With Paliuure's unalter'd mood,
Firm at his dangerous post he stood;
Each call for heedful rest repell'd,
With dying hand the rudder held,
Til], in his fall, with fateful sway.
The steerage of the realm gave way!
Then, while on Itritain's thousand plains
One unpolluted church remains,
Whose peaceful bells ne'er sent around
The bloody tocsin's maddening sound,
But still, upon the hallow'd day,
Convoke (he swains to praise and pray;
While faith and civil peace are dear,
Grace this cold marble with a tear,—
He who preserved them, Pitt, lies here!

Nor yet fnppress lne gcucrous sigh,
Because his rival slumbers nigh;
Nor be thy reyuiescat dumb,
Lest it be said o'er Fox's tomb.
For talents mourn, untimely lost,
When best cinploy'd and wanted most;
Mourn genius high, and lore profound.
And wit that loved to play, not wound;
And all the reasoning powers divine,
To penetrate, resolve, combine;
And feelings keen, and fancy's glow,—
They sleep with him who sleeps below i
And, tf thou mourn'st they could not save
From error him who owns this grave,
Be every harsher thought supprcss'd.
And sacred be the last long rest.
Here, where the end of earthly things
Lays heroes, patriots, bards, and kings;
Where stiff the hand, and still the tongue,
Of those who fought, and spoke, and sung;
Here where the fretted aisles prolong
The distant notes of holy song.
As if same angel spoke agen,
All peace on earth, good will to men;
If ever from an Knglish heart,
O here let prejudice depart,
And, partial feeling cast aside,
Record, that Fox a,Briton*Viied!
When Europe crouch'd to France's yoke,
And Austria bent, and Prussia broke.
And the firm Russian's purpose bmve
Was barter d by a timorous slave.
Even then dishonour's peace he spurn'd,
The sullied olive-branch return'd,
Stood for his country's glory fast,
Aud niil'd her colours to the ma>l'

Heaven, to reward his firmness gave
A portion in this honour'd grave;
And ne'er held marble in its trust
Of two such wond'rous men the dust.

With more than mortal powers endow'd,
How high they sctar'd above the crowd!
Theirs was no common party race, .

Jostling by dark intrigue for place;
Like fabled gods', tbpir mighty war
Shook realms and nations in its jar;
Beneath each banner proud to stand,
Look'd up the noblest of the laud,
Till through the British world writ? knowa
The names of Pitt and Fox alone.
Spells of such force no wizard grave
E'er framed in dark Thessaliau cave;
Though his could drain the ocean dry,
Aud force the plauets from the sky.
These spells are spent, and spent with these,
The wine of life is on the lees.
Genius, and taste, and talent gone,
For ever tomb'd beneath the stone,
Where,—taming thought to human pride!—
The mighty chiefs sleep side by side.
Drop upou Fox's grave the tear,
T will trickle to his rival's bier;
O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound,
And Fox's shall the notes rebound.
The solemn echo seems to cry,—
« Here let their discord with them die;
Speak not for those a separate doom.
Whom fate made brothers in, the tomb.
But search the land of living men,
Where wilt thou find their like agcn?»>

Rest, ardent spirits! till the cries
Of dying Nature bid you rise;
Not even your Britain's groans can pierce
The lmden silence of your hearse:
Then, O how impotent and vain
This grateful tributary strain!
Though not unmark'd from northern clime,
Ye heard the Border Minstrel's rhyme:
His Gothic harp has o'er you rung;
The bard you dcign'd to praise, your deathless
names has sung.

Stay yet, illusion, stay a while,
My wilderd fancy still beguile!
From this high theme how can I part,
Ere half unloaded is my heart! 4

For all the tears e'er sorrow drew,
And all the raptures fancy knew,
And all the keener rush of blood,
That throbs through bard in bard-like mood.
Were here a tribute mean and low.
Though all their mtfgbxl streams could flow—
*\ oe, wonder, and sensation high,
la one spring-tide of ecstasy!—
It will not be—it may not last—
The vision of enchantment 's past:
Like frost-work iu the morning ray,
The fancied fabric meks away;
Each Gothic arch, memorial-stone.
Ami J011 j dim, lofty aisle are gone,

'And, lingering last, deception dear.
The choir's high sounds die on my ear.
Now slow return the lonely down,
The silent pastures bleak and brown,
The farm begirt with copse-wood wild.
The gambols of each frolic child,
Mixing their shrill eric* with the tone
Of Tweeds dark waters rushing on.

Prompt on unequal tasks to run,
Thus Nature disciplines her son:
Mecter, she says, for me to stray,
Aud waste the solitary day,
In plucking from yon feu the reed,
And watch it Uniting down the Tweed;
Or idly list the shrilling lay
With which the milk-maid cheers her way,
Marking iu cadence rise and fail.
As from the field, beneath her pail.
She trips it down the uneven dale:
Mecter for me, by yonder cairn,
The ancient shepherd's talc to learn.
Though oft he stop in rustic fear,
Lest his old legends tire the ear
Of one, who, in his simple mind,
May boast of book-learn'd taste refined.

But thou, my friend, canst fitly tell
(For few have read romance so well)
How still the legeudary lay
O'er poet's bosom holds its sway;
How on the ancient minstrel strain
Time lays his palsied li;uni in vain;
Aud itow our hearts at doughty deeds.
By warriors wrought in steely weeds.
Still throb for fear, and pity's sake;
As when the Champion of the Lake
Enters Morgaua's fated house.
Or in the Chapel Perilous,
Despising spells and demons' force,
Holds converse with the unburied corse: (1)
Or when, Dame Gauore's grace to move
(Alas! that lawless was their love),
He sought proud Tarquin in his den,
And freed full sixty knights; or, when*
A sinful man, and uncoofess'd,
He took the Sangreal's holy quest.
And, slumbering, saw tike vision high.
He might not view with waking eye. (x)

The mightiest chiefs of British song
Scorn'd not such legends to prolong:
They gleam through Spenser's elfin dream.
And mix in Milton's heavenly theme;
And Drydeii, in immortal strain.
Had raised the Table Round again,
But that a ribald king and court
Bade him toil on, to make them sport;
Demanded for their niggard pay,
Fit for their souk, a looser lay.
Licentious satire, song, and play; (3)
The world defrauded of the high design.
Profaned the God-given strength, and marr d thr
lofty line.

Warm'd by such names, well may wc then.
Though dwindled sons of little men,

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