tion of Smaylho'me Tower, it is seen many miles in every direction. Among the crags, by which it is surrounded, one, more eminent, is called the Watchfold, and is said to have been the station of a beacon, in the times of war with England. Without the tower-court is a ruined chapel. Brotherstone is a heath, in the neighbourhood of Smaylho'me Tower.

This ancient fortress and its vicinity formed the scene of the author's infancy, and seemed to claim from him this attempt to celebrate them in a border tale. The catastrophe of the tale is founded upon a well-known Irish tradition.

THE

EVE OF SAINT JOHN.

THE Baron of Smaylho'me rose with day,

He spurred his courser on,

Without stop or stay, down the rocky way,
That leads to Brotherstone.

He went not with the bold Buccleuch,

His banner broad to rear;

He went not 'gainst the English yew

To lift the Scottish spear.

Yet his plate-jack* was braced, and his helmet was laced,

And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore;

At his saddle-gerthe was a good steel sperthe,

Full ten pound weight and more.

The plate-jack is coat-armour; the vaunt-brace, or wam-brace, ar.

mour for the body; the sperthe, a battle-axe.

The Baron returned in three days space,

And his looks were sad and sour;

And

weary was his courser's pace,

As he reached his rocky tower.

He came not from where Ancram Moor*

Ran red with English blood;

Where the Douglas true, and the bold Buccleuch, 'Gainst keen Lord Evers stood.

Yet was his helmet hacked and hewed,

His acton pierced and tore;

His axe andhis dagger with blood embrued,

But it was not English gore.

He lighted at the Chapellage,

He held him close and still;

And he whistled thrice for his little foot-page,

His name was English Will.

"Come thou hither, my little foot-page;

"Come hither to my knee;

"Though thou art young, and tender of age,

"I think thou art true to me.

* See an account of the battle of Ancram Moor, subjoined to the ballad.

"Come, tell me all that thou hast seen, "And look thou tell me true!

"Since I from Smaylho'me tower have been, "What did thy lady do?"

"My lady, each night, sought the lonely light, "That burns on the wild Watchfold;

"For, from height to height, the beacons bright "Of the English foemen told.

"The bittern clamoured from the moss,
"The wind blew loud and shrill;
"Yet the craggy pathway she did cross,
"To the eiry beacon hill.

"I watched her steps, and silent came "Where she sat her on a stone;

"No watchman stood by the dreary flame; "It burned all alone.

"The second night I kept her in sight,

"Till to the fire she came,

“And, by Mary's might! an armed Knight "Stood by the lonely flame.

"And many a word that warlike lord

"Did speak to my lady there;

"But the rain fell fast, and loud blew the blast, "And I heard not what they were.

"The third night there the sky was fair,
"And the mountain blast was still,
"As again I watched the secret pair,
"On the lonesome beacon hill.

"And I heard her name the midnight hour,

"And name this holy eve;

"And say, Come this night to thy lady's bower;

• Ask no bold Baron's leave.

"He lifts his spear with the bold Buccleuch ;

'His lady is all alone;

'The door she'll undo to her knight so true,

'On the eve of good Saint John.'

'I cannot come; I must not come;

'I dare not come to thee;

'On the eve of Saint John I must wander alone:

In thy bower I may not be.'