29, xxvi.-Friar John Friar John understood the soporific virtue of his beads and breviary, as well as his namesake in Rabelais. "But Gargantua could not sleep by any means on which side soever he turned himself. Whereupon the monk said to him, I never sleep soundly but when I am at sermon or prayers. Let us therefore begin, you and I, the seven penitential psalms, to try whether you shall not quickly fall asleep.' The conceit pleased Gargantua very well; and beginning the first of these psalms, as soon as they came to Beati quorum, they fell asleep, both the one and the other." 31, xxix. To fair St Andrews bound, Within the ocean-cave to pray, Where good Saint Rule his holy lay. A St Regulus (Scottice, St Rule), a monk of Patræ, in Achaia, warned by a vision, is said, A.D. 370, to have sailed westward, until he landed at St Andrews in Scotland, where he founded a chapel and tower. The latter is still standing; and, though we may doubt the precise date of its foundation, is certainly one of the most ancient edifices in Scotland. cave, nearly fronting the ruinous castle of the Archbishops of St Andrews, bears the name of St Rule. The ancient name of the Metropolitan See of Scotland, Killrule (Cella Reguli), was changed in honour of the relics of St Andrew, which St Rule was said to have brought into Scotland. 31, xxxi. St Fillan's blessed well. St Fillan was a Scottish saint of some reputation. In Perthshire several wells and springs are dedicated to St Fillan, which are still places of pilgrimage and offerings, even among Protestants. They are held powerful in cases of madness; and, in some of late occurrence, lunatics have been left all night bound to the holy stone, in confidence that the saint would cure and unloose them before morning. INTRODUCTION TO CANTO II. ΤΟ THE REV. JOHN MARRIOTT, A. M. Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest. 'HE scenes are desert now, and bare, THE Where flourish'd once a forest fair, When these waste glens with copse were lined, And peopled with the hart and hind. Yon Thorn-perchance whose prickly spears "Here, in my shade," methinks he'd say, The wolf I've seen, a fiercer game, A thousand vassals mustered round, With horse, and hawk, and horn, and hound; Guard every pass with crossbow bent; Lead in the leash the gazehounds grim, Of such proud huntings, many tales Where erst the Outlaw drew his arrow. The majesty of Oberon : And she is gone, whose lovely face Though if to Sylphid Queen 'twere given From Yair,—which hills so closely bind, Scarce can the Tweed his passage find, Though much he fret, and chafe, and toil, Till all his eddying currents boil,— Her long-descended lord is gone, And left us by the stream alone. And much I miss those sportive boys, Companions of my mountain joys, Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth. Close to my side with what delight They press'd to hear of Wallace wight, When, pointing to his airy mound, I call'd his ramparts holy ground! Kindled their brows to hear me speak; And I have smiled, to feel my cheek, |