Yet was poetic impulse given,

By the green hill and clear blue heaven.
It was a barren scene, and wild,
Where naked cliffs were rudely piled;
But ever and anon between

Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green;
And well the lonely infant knew
Recesses where the wall-flower grew,1
And honeysuckle loved to crawl
Up the low crag and ruin'd wall.

I deem'd such nooks the sweetest shade
The sun in all its round survey'd ;

And still I thought that shatter'd tower 2
The mightiest work of human power;
And marvell'd as the aged hind

With some strange tale bewitch'd my mind,
Of forayers, who, with headlong force,
Down from that strength had spurr'd their horse,
Their southern rapine to renew,

Far in the distant Cheviots blue,

And, home returning, fill'd the hall
With revel, wassel-rout, and brawl.8

Methought that still with trump and clang,
The gateway's broken arches rang;
Methought grim features, seam'd with scars,

1 [MS." Recesses where the woodbine grew."]

2 [Smailholm Tower, in Berwickshire, the scene of the Author's infancy, is situated about two miles from Dryburgh Abbey.]

8 [The two next couplets are not in the MS.]

Glared through the window's rusty bars,
And ever, by the winter hearth,

Old tales I heard of woe or mirth,
Of lovers' slights, of ladies' charms,
Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms;
Of patriot battles, won of old

By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold;
Of later fields of feud and fight,

When, pouring from their Highland height,
The Scottish clans, in headlong sway,
Had swept the scarlet ranks away.
While stretch'd at length upon the floor,1
Again I fought each combat o'er,
Pebbles and shells, in order laid,
The mimic ranks of war display'd;

And onward still the Scottish Lion bore,
And still the scatter'd Southron fled before.2

Still, with vain fondness, could I trace,
Anew, each kind familiar face,
That brighten'd at our evening fire!

From the thatch'd mansion's grayhair'd Sire,3

1 [MS." While still with mimic hosts of shells, Again my sport the combat tells

Onward the Scottish Lion bore,

The scatter'd Southron fled before."]

2 [See notes on The Eve of St. John, in the Border Minstrelsy, vol. iv.; and the Author's Introduction to The Minstrelsy, vol. i. p. 101.]

8 [Robert Scott of Sandy knows, the grandfather of the Poet.]

Wise without learning, plain and good,
And sprung of Scotland's gentler blood;
Whose eye, in age, quick, clear, and keen,
Show'd what in youth its glance had been;
Whose doom discording neighbours sought,
Content with equity unbought;

To him the venerable Priest,

1

Our frequent and familiar guest,
Whose life and manners well could paint
Alike the student and the saint; 2
Alas! whose speech too oft I broke
With gambol rude and timeless joke:
For I was wayward, bold, and wild,
A self-will'd imp, a grandame's child;
But half a plague, and half a jest,
Was still endured, beloved, caress'd.

For me, thus nurtured, dost thou ask The classic poet's well-conn'd task? Nay, Erskine, nay-On the wild hill

1 Upon revising the Poem, it seems proper to mention that the lines,

"Whose doom discording neighbours sought

Content with equity unbought:"

have been unconsciously borrowed from a passage in Dryden's beautiful epistle to John Driden of Chesterton.—1808. Note to Second Edition.

2 [MS." The student, gentleman, and saint."

The reverend gentleman alluded to was Mr. John Martin, minister of Mertoun, in which parish Smailholm Tower is situated.]

Let the wild heath-bell flourish still;
Cherish the tulip, prune the vine,

But freely let the woodbine twine,
And leave untrimm'd the eglantine:
Nay, my friend, nay-Since oft thy praise
Hath given fresh vigour to my lays;
Since oft thy judgment could refine
My flatten'd thought, or cumbrous line
Still kind, as is thy wont, attend,
And in the minstrel spare the friend.
Though wild as cloud, as stream, as gale,
Flow forth, flow unrestrain'd, my Tale!

;

MARMION.

CANTO THIRD.

THE HOSTEL, OR INN.