But loud she uttered thanks to Heaven and every saintly power

That had returned the Moringer before the midnight hour;

And loud she uttered vow on vow that never was there bride

That had like her preserved her troth or been so sorely tried.

Yes, here I claim the praise,' she said, 'to constant matrons due,

Who keep the troth that they have plight so steadfastly and true;

For count the term howe'er you will, so that you count aright,

Seven twelvemonths and a day are out when bells toll twelve to-night.' 160

It was Marstetten then rose up, his falchion there he drew,

He kneeled before the Moringer and down his weapon threw;

'My oath and knightly faith are broke,' these were the words he said,

'Then take, my liege, thy vassal's sword, and take thy vassal's head.'

The noble Moringer he smiled, and then aloud did say,

'He gathers wisdom that hath roamed seven twelvemonths and a day; My daughter now hath fifteen years, fame speaks her sweet and fair,

I give her for the bride you lose and name her for my heir.

From Chapter iii. The silver tones of Lucy Ashton's voice mingled with the accompaniment in an ancient air, to which some one had adapted the following words: '

Look not thou on beauty's charming;
Sit thou still when kings are arming;
Taste not when the wine-cup glistens;
Speak not when the people listens;
Stop thine ear against the singer;
From the red gold keep thy finger;
Vacant heart and hand and eye,
Easy live and quiet die.

II

THE MONK MUST ARISE WHEN THE MATINS RING'

From Chapter iii. And humming his rustic roundelay, the yeoman went on his road, the sound of his rough voice gradually dying away as the distance betwixt them increased."

THE monk must arise when the matins ring,
The abbot may sleep to their chime;
But the yeoman must start when the bugles
sing,

'Tis time, my hearts, 't is time.

There's bucks and raes on Billhope braes, There's a herd on Shortwood Shaw; But a lily-white doe in the garden goes, She's fairly worth them a'.

III

WHEN THE LAST LAIRD OF RAVENSWOOD TO RAVENSWOOD SHALL RIDE'

From Chapter xviii. 'With a quivering voice, and a cheek pale with apprehension, Caleb faltered out the following lines:

WHEN the last Laird of Ravenswood to Ravenswood shall ride,

And woo a dead maiden to be his bride, He shall stable his steed in the Kelpie's flow,

And his name shall be lost for evermoe!

SONGS FROM THE LEGEND OF MONTROSE

I

ANCIENT GAELIC MELODY

BIRDS of omen dark and foul,
Night-crow, raven, bat, and owl,
Leave the sick man to his dream-
All night long he heard you scream.
Haste to cave and ruined tower,
Ivy tod or dingled bower,
There to wink and mop, for, hark!
In the mid air sings the lark.

Hie to moorish gills and rocks,
Prowling wolf and wily fox, -
Hie ye fast, nor turn your view,
Though the lamb bleats to the ewe.
Couch your trains and speed your flight,
Safety parts with parting night;
And on distant echo borne,
Comes the hunter's early horn.

deep, O'erpower the passive mind in sleep, Pass from the slumberer's soul away, Like night-mists from the brow of day. Foul hag, whose blasted visage grim Smothers the pulse, unnerves the limb, Spur thy dark palfrey and begone! Thou darest not face the godlike sun.

Twelve times the rolling year has sped
Since, while from vengeance wild
Of fierce Strathallan's chief I fled,
Forth's eddies whelmed my child.'

Twelve times the year its course has borne,'

The wandering maid replied; 'Since fishers on Saint Bridget's morn Drew nets on Campsie side.

'Saint Bridget sent no scaly spoil;
An infant, well-nigh dead,

They saved and reared in want and toil,
To beg from you her bread.'

That orphan maid the lady kissed,
'My husband's looks you bear;
Saint Bridget and her morn be blessed!
You are his widow's heir.'

pale,

In silk and sandals rare;

And pearls, for drops of frozen hail, Are glistening in her hair.