complete, it must now be allowed that the is vestigation brought out many circumstances by no means creditable to his discretion; and the rejoicings of his friends ought not, there fore, to have been scornfully jubilant. Su they were, however—at least in Edinburgh and Scott took his share in them by inditing song, which was sung by James Ballantyne and received with clamorous applauses, at a public dinner given in honor of the event, on the 27th of June, 1806.' - Lockhart's Life of Scott, Chapter xvi.

SINCE here we are set in array round the table,

Five hundred good fellows well met in a hall,

Come listen, brave boys, and I'll sing as I'm able,

How innocence triumphed and pride get a fall.

it

But push round the claretCome, stewards, don't spare With rapture you'll drink to the toast that I give; Here, boys,

Off with it merrily — Melville for ever, and long may he live!

And foresters have busy been
To track the buck in thicket green;
Now we come to chant our lay,
Waken, lords and ladies gay.'

Waken, lords and ladies gay,
To the green-wood haste away;
We can show you where he lies,
Fleet of foot and tall of size;
We can show the marks he made,
When 'gainst the oak his antlers frayed;
You shall see him brought to bay,
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'

Louder, louder chant the lay,
Waken, lords and ladies gay!
Tell them youth and mirth and glee
Run a course as well as we;

Time, stern huntsman, who can balk,
Stanch as hound and fleet as hawk ?
Think of this and rise with day,
Gentle lords and ladies gay.

THE RESOLVE

WRITTEN IN IMITATION OF AN OLD ENGLISH POEM, 1809

not

Scott wrote of this to his brother Thomas who had guessed its authorship, when it wa published anonymously: 'It is mine: and it is - or, to be less enigmatical, it is an old fragment, which I coopered up into its present state with the purpose of quizzing certai judges of poetry, who have been extremely de lighted, and declare that no living poet coul! write in the same exquisite taste."

My wayward fate I needs must plain,
Though bootless be the theme;
I loved and was beloved again,
Yet all was but a dream:
For, as her love was quickly got,

So it was quickly gone;

No more I'll bask in flame so hot,
But coldly dwell alone.

Not maid more bright than maid was e'er
My fancy shall beguile,
By flattering word or feigned tear,
By gesture, look, or smile:
No more I'll call the shaft fair shot,
Till it has fairly flown,
Nor scorch me at a flame so hot-
I'll rather freeze alone.

Each ambushed Cupid I'll defy

In cheek or chin or brow,
And deem the glance of woman's eye
As weak as woman's vow:
I'll lightly hold the lady's heart,

That is but lightly won;
I'll steel my breast to beauty's art,
And learn to live alone.

The flaunting torch soon blazes out,
The diamond's ray abides;
The flame its glory hurls about,
The gem its lustre hides;
Such

gem I fondly deemed was mine,
And glowed a diamond stone,
But, since each eye may see it shine,
I'll darkling dwell alone.

No waking dreams shall tinge my thought
With dyes so bright and vain,
No silken net so slightly wrought
Shall tangle me again:
No more I'll pay so dear for wit,
I'll live upon mine own,

are to be spoken to a beautiful tragedy of Joanna Baillie, founded upon a Highland story of the Old Time.'

'T IS sweet to hear expiring Summer's sigh,

Through forests tinged with russet, wail and die;

'T is sweet and sad the latest notes to hear
Of distant music, dying on the ear;
But far more sadly sweet on foreign strand
We list the legends of our native land,
Linked as they come with every tender tie,
Memorials dear of youth and infancy.

Chief thy wild tales, romantic Caledon, Wake keen remembrance in each hardy

son.

Whether on India's burning coasts he toil
Or till Acadia's winter-fettered soil,
He hears with throbbing heart and mois-
tened eyes,

And, as he hears, what dear illusions rise!
It opens on his soul his native dell,

The woods wild waving and the water's swell;

Tradition's theme, the tower that threats the plain,

The mossy cairn that hides the hero slain; The cot beneath whose simple porch were told

By gray-haired patriarch the tales of old, The infant group that hushed their sports the while,

And the dear maid who listened with a smile.

The wanderer, while the vision warms his brain,

Is denizen of Scotland once again.

Like his,

ween, thy comprehensive mind

And lonely on the waste the yew is seen, Or straggling hollies spread a brighter

green.

kind:

10

Thine eye applausive each sly vermin sees, That balks the snare yet battens on the

cheese;

Thine ear has heard with scorn instead of

steep,

Our scarce marked path descends you
dingle deep:
Follow-but heedful, cautious of a trip —
In earthly mire philosophy may slip.
Step slow and wary o'er that swampy