INTRODUCTION. THE way was long, the wind was cold, His withered cheek, and tresses gray, No longer, courted and caressed, High placed in hall, a welcome guest, He poured, to lord and lady gay, The unpremeditated lay; Old times were changed, old manners gone, A stranger filled the Stuarts' throne; Had called his harmless art a crime. He passed where Newark's stately tower Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower : The Minstrel gazed with wishful eyeNo humbler resting place was nigh. With hesitating step, at last, The embattled portal-arch he passed, |