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observed a glove hanging up, and was informed by that major Philipson was at his brother's rise on the sexton that it was meant as a challenge to any the island in Windermere, resolved, if pssible. one who should take it down. Mr. Gilpin order to seize and punish a man who had made himselt ed the sexton to reach it him: but upon his utterly so particularly obnoxious. How it was conducted, refusing to touch it, he took it down himself, and my authority does not inform us whether be got put it in his breast. When the people were assem-together the navigation of the lake, and blockaded bled, he went into the pulpit, and, before he con- the place by sea, or whether he landed and carried cluded his sermon, took occasion to rebuke them on his approaches in fornu Neither do we learn severely for these inhuman challenges. •1 hear,' the strength of the garrisot, within, nor of the works saith be, that one among you hath hanged up a without. All we learn is, that major Philipson glove, even in this sacred place, threatening to fight endured a siege of eight months with great gallantany one who taketh it down: see, I have taken it ry, till his brother, the colonel, raised a party and down;' and pulling out the glove, he held it up to relieved him. the congregation, and then showed them how un. “It was now the major's turn to make reprisals, suitable such savage practices were to the profes- He put himself, therefore, at the head of a little sion of christianity, using such persuasives to mu-troop of horse, and rode to Kendal. Here, being tual love as he thought would most affect them.”-informed that colonel Briggs was at prayers, (for Life of Bernard Gilpin, Lond. 1753, 8vo. p. 177. it was on a Sunday morning, he stationed his men 2. A horseman armed, at headlong speed.-P. 227. properly in the avenues, and himself, armed, rode
and what follows is taken from a real directly into the church. It probably was not a achievement of major Robert Philipson, called, regular ehurch, but some large place of meeting, from his desperate and adventurous courage, Robin It is said he intended to seize the colonel anıl car. the Devil; which, as being very inaccurately noticed ry him off; but as this seems to have been totally in this note upon the first edition, shall be now impracticable, it is rather probable that his ingiven in a more authentic form. The chief place tention was to kill him on the spot, and in the of his retreat was not Loril's Island in Derwent- midst of the confusion to escape. Whatever his water, but Curwen's Island in the lake of Win-l intention was, it was frustrated, for Briggs happendermere.
ed to be elsewhere. “This island formerly belonged to the Philip “The congregation, as might be expected, was sous, a family of note in Westmoreland. During thrown into great confusion on sceing an armed the civil wars, two of them, an elder and a young-man on horseback make his appearance among er brother, served the king. The former, who was them; and the major, taking advan tage of their as. the proprietor of it, commanded a regiment; the tonishment, turned his horse round, and rode quietlatter was a major.
ly out. But having given an alarm, he was pre“ The major, whose name was Robert, was a sently assaulted as he left the assembly, and being man of great spirit and enterprize; and for his many seized, his girths were cut, and he was uphorsed. feats of personal bravery had obtained, among the “At this instant his party made a furious attack Oliverians of those parts, the appellation of Robin on the assailants, and the major killed with his the Devil.
own hand the man who had seized him, clapped “After the war had subsided, and the direful the saddle, ungirthed as it was, upon his horse, cffects of public opposition had ceased, revenge and vaulting into it, rode full speed through the and malice long kept alive the animosity of indi- streets of Kendal, calling his men to follow him; viduals. Colonel Briggs, a steady friend to usur- and with his whole party made a safe retreat to his pation, resided at this time at kendal, and, under asylum in the lake. The action marked the man. the double character of a leading magistrate (for Many knew him: and they who did not, knew as be was a justice of peace and an active commander, well from the exploit that it could be nobody but held the country in awe.' This person, having heard Robin the Devil."
The Lord of the Xsles:
and of archdeacon Barbour, a correct edition d The scene of this poem lies, at first, in the cas- whose Metrical History of Robert Bruce will 8000, te of Artornish, on the coast of Argyleshire; and
f Arovjeshire: and I trust, appear under the care of my learned friend, afterwards in the islands of Skye and Arran, and the Rev. Dr. Jamieson.t . upon the coast of Ayrshire. Finally, it is laid Abbotsford, 10th December, 1814. near Stirling. The story opens in the spring of the year 1307, when Bruce, who had been driven
THE LORD OF THE ISLES. out of Scotland by the English, and the barons
CANTO 1. who adhered to that foreign interest, returned from | AUTUMN departs-but still liis mantle's fold the Island of Rachrin on the coast of Ireland, again). Rests on the groves of noble Somerville, to assert his claims to the Scottish crown. Mapy Beneath a shroud of russet dropped with gold, of the personages and incidents introduced are of Tweed and his tributaries mingle still; historical celebrity. The authorities used are Hoarser the wind, and deeper sounds the rill chiefly those of the venerable lord Hailes, as well Yet lingering notes of Sylvan music swell, entitled to be called the restorer of Scottish his
. Dr. Burn's History of Westmoreland tory, as Bruce the restorer of Scottish monarchy:
† Now poblished.
The deep-toned cushat, and the redbreast sbrill; Who on that morn's resistless call
And yet some tints of summer splendour tell I Was silent in Artornish hall. When the broad sun sinks down on Ettrick's west
- 11. ern fell.
“ Wake, maid of Lorn!” 'twas thus they sung, Autumn departs-from Gala's fields no more
And yet more proud the descant rung, Come rural sounds our kindred banks to cheer;
“ Wake, maid of Lorn! high right is ours, Blent with the stream, and gale that wafts it o'er,
To charm dull sleep from beauty's bowers; No more the distant reaper's mirth we hear.
Earth, ocean, air, have nought so shy The last blith shout hath died upon our ear,
But owns the power of minstrelsy. And harvest-home hath hushed the clanging
In Lettermore the timid deer wain,
Will pause, the harp's wild chime to hear; On the waste hill no forms of life appear,
Rude Heiskar's seal through surges dark Save where, sad laggard of the autumnal train, Will long pursue the minstrol's bark;2 Some age-struck wanderer gleans few ears of scat
To list his notes, the eagle proud tered grain.
Will poise him on Ben Cailliach's cloud;
Then let not maiden's ear disdain, Deem'st thou these saddened scenes have pleasure The summons of the minstrel train,
But, while our harps wild music make, Lovest thou through autumn's fading realms to Edith of Lorn, awake, awake!
stray, To see the heath-tlower withered on the hill,
IN. To listen to the wood's expiring lay,
“ ) wake, while dawn, with dewy shine, To note the red leaf shivering on the spray,
Wakes nature's charms to vic with thine! To mark the last bright tints the mountain stain,
She bids the mottled thrush rejoice On the waste fields to trace the gleaner's way,
To mate thy melody of voice; And moralize on moral joy and pain?
The dew that on the violet lies
Mocks the dark lustre of thine eyes: O! if such scenes thou lovest, scorn not the minstrel strain!
But, Edith, wake, and all we see
Of sweet and fair shall yield to thee!"No! do not scorn, although its hoarser note “She comes not yet,” gray Ferrand cried;
Scarce with the cushat's homely song can vie, “ Brethren, let softer spell be tried, Though faint its beauties as the tints remote Those notes prolonged, that soothing theme, That gleam through mist in autumn's evening Which best may mix with beauty's dream, sky,
And whisper, with their silvery tone, And few as leaves that tremble, sear anıl dry, The hope she loves, yet fears to own."
When wild November hath his bugle wound; He spoke, and on the harp-strings died Nor mock my toil-a lonely gleaner I,
The strains of flattery and of pride; Through fields time-wasted, on sad inquest More soft, more low, more tender fel. bound,
The lay of love he bade them tell. Where happier bards of yore have richer harvest
• IV. found.
“ Wake, maid of Lorn! the moments fly, So shalt thou list, and haply not upmoved,
Which yet that maiden-name allow; To a wild tale of Albyn's warrior day;
Wake, maiden, wake! the hour is nigh, la distant lands, by the rough west reproved,
When love shall claim a plighted vow.
"By hope, that soon shall fears remove,
“Wake, Edith, wake! in yonder bay Where rest from mortal coil the mighty of the
Lies many a galley gayly manned,
We hear the merry pibrochs play, “ Wakx, maid of Lorn!” the minstrels sung.
We see the streamers' silken band.
What chieftain's praise these pibrochs swell, Thy rugged halls, Artornish! rung,
What crest is on these banners wove, And the dark seas, thy towers that lave,
The harp, the minstrel, dare not tell
The ridule must be read by love."
Retired her maiden train among, And green Loch-Alline's woodland shore, Edith of Lorn received the song, As if wild woods and waves had pleasure
But tamed the minstrel's pride had been In listing to the lovely measure.
That had her cold demeanour seen; And ne'er to symphony more sweet
For not upon her cheek awoke Gave mountain echoes answer meet,
The glow of pride when flattery spoke, Since, met from mainland and from isle
Nor could their tenderest numbers bring Ross, Arran, Ilay, and Argyle,
One sigh responsive to the string. Each minstrel's tributary lay
As vainly had her maidens vied Paid homage to the festal day.
In skill io deck the princely bride. Dull and dishonoured were the bard,
Her locks, in dark-brown length arrayed, Worthless of guerdon and regard,
Cathleen of Ulne, 'twas thine to braid; Deaf to the hope of minstrel fame,
Young Eva with meet reverence drew Or lady's smiles, his noblest aim,
On the light foot the silken shoe,
While on the ancle's slender pound
VII. But Morag, to whose fostering care Proud Lorn bad given his daughter fair, Morag, who saw a mother's aid By all a daughter's love repaid, (Strict was that bond-most kind of all Inviolate in highland hall-) Gray Morag sate a space apart In Edithi's eves to read her heart In vain the attendants' fond appeal To Morag's skill, to Morag's zeal; She marked her child receive their care, Cold as the image sculptured fair, (Form of some sainted patroness,) Which cloistered maids combine to dress; She marked-and knew her nursling's heart In the vain pomp took little part. Wistful a while she gazed-then pressed The maiden to her anxious breast In finished loveliness—and led To where a turret's airy head, Slender and steep, and battled round, O'erlooked, dark Mull! thy mighty sound, Where thwarting tides, with mingled roar, Part thy swarth hills from Morven's shore.
LORD OF THE ISLES,? whose lofty name A thousand bards have given to fame, The mate of monarchs, and allied On equal terms with England's pride. From chieftain's tower to bondsman's cot, Who hears the tale, and triumphs not? The damsel dons her best attire, The shepherd lights his beltane fire, Joy, joy! each warder's horn hath sung, Joy, joy! each matin bell bath rung; The holy priest says grateful mass, Loud shouts each hardy galla-glass, No mountain den holds outcast boor Of heart so dull, of soul so poor, But he hath flung his task aside, And claimed this morn for holy-tide; Yet, empress of this joyful day, Edith is sad while all are gay."
IX. Proud Edith's soul came to her eye, Resentment checked the struggling sigh, Her hurrying hand indignant dried The burning tears of injured pride“ Morag, forbear! or lend thy praise To swell yon hireling harper's lays; Make to yon maids thy boast of power, That they may waste a wondering hour, Telling of banners proudly borne, Of pealing bell and bugle-horn, Or, theme more dear, of robes of price, Crownlets and gauds of rare device, But thou, experienced as thou art, Think'st thou with these to cheat the heart That, bound in strong affection's chain, Looks for return, and looks in vain? No! sum thine Edith's wretched lot In these brief words he loves her not!
“ Daughter,” she said, “ these seas behold,
" Debate it not-too long I strove
Yet, when these formal rites are o'er,
The skiff she marked lay tossing sore,
In weary tack from shore to shore.
She gained, of forward way,
poor meed which peasants share,
That oft, before she wore,
Upon the shelving shore.
Nor looked where shelter lay,
Loid Ronald's fleet swept by,
Of island chivalry.
Yet bears them on their way;
So chafes the war-horse in his might,
But, foaming, must obcy. .
'That shimmered fair and free;
Gave wilder minstrelsy.
Their misty shores around;
'Twas with such idle eye
They pass him careless by.
In that trail vessel lay,
Unchallenged were her way! And thou, lord Ronald, sweep thou on, With mirth and pride and minstrel tone! But had'st thou known who sailed so nigh, Far other glance were in thine eye! Far other flush were on thy brow, That, shaded by the bopnet, now Assumes but ill the blithsome cheer Of bridegroom when the bride is near.
With that armada gay
With tale, romance, and lay;
For one loud busy day.
Abides the minstrel tale,
More fierce from streight and lake;
Spring upward as they break.
On rocks of luniumore;
And gave the conflict o'er,
Thus to the leader spoke:
Until the day has broke?
At the last billow's shock?
Half dead with want and fear;
Despair and death are near.
I follow where thou wilt;
In steady voice was given,
Oft succour dawns from heaven.
Let our free course be driven;
Beneath the castle wall;
Within a chieftain's hall.
And on her altered way,
To seize his flying prey.
Those lightnings of the wave;
With elvish lustre lave,
A gloomy splendour gave.
lo envious pageantry,
Twixt cloud and ocean hung,
And landward fur, and far tc sea,
Her festal radiance flung.
Whose lustre mingled well
Or like the battle-shout
Madden the fight and rout.
And deepened shadow made,
An hundred torches played,
So straight, so high, so steep,.
And plunged them in the deep. 10
From turret, rock, and bay,
To light the upward way.
And, vexed at thy delay,
Until the break of day;
That's breathed upon by May;
Again to bear away.”_
Whence come, or whither bound?