The centre of the glittering ring. And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King! Poor Ellen glided from her stay, To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring; He will redeem his signet ring. Ask nought for Douglas; yester even, His prince and he have much forgiven. Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. We would not, to the vulgar crowd, Yield what they craved with clamour loud; I stanch'd thy father's death-feud stern, EPILOGUE. HARP of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark, And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel harp! Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, And little reck I of the censure sharp May idly cavil at an idle lay. Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell, M THE BRITISH ARMY AT WATERLOO. A VARIOUS host-from kindred realms they came, And the blunt speech that bursts without a pause, And freeborn thoughts, which league the Soldier with the Laws. And, O! loved warriors of the Minstrel's land! Yonder your bonnets nod, your tartans wave! The rugged form may mark the mountain band, And harsher features, and a mien more grave; But ne'er in battle-field throbb'd heart so brave, As that which beats beneath the Scottish plaid; And when the pibroch bids the battle rave, And level for the charge your arms are laid, Where lives the desperate foe that for such onset staid! Hark! from yon stately ranks what laughter rings Mingling wild mirth with war's stern minstrelsy, His jest while each blithe comrade round him flings, And moves to death with military glee: Boast, Erin, boast them! tameless, frank, and free, In kindness warm, and fierce in danger known, Rough nature's children, humorous as she And HE, yon Chieftain-strike the proudest tone. Of thy bold harp, green Isle !-the Hero is thine own |