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Land long renown'd for arms and arts,

MARCH OF THE MONKS OF And conquering eyes and dauntless hearts-

BANGOR. She, as the flutterings here avow,

(1817.) Feels all the pilgrim's terrors now ; When the heathen trumpet's clang Yet sure on Caledonian plain

Round beleaguer'd Chester rang, The stranger never sued in vain.

Veilèd nun and friar grey 'Tis yours the hospitable task

March'd from Bangor's fair Abbaye ; To give the applause she dare not ask;

High their holy anthem sounds, And they who bid the pilgrim speed,

Cestria’s vale the hymn rebounds, The pilgrim's blessing be their meed.

Floating down the silvan Dee,

O miserere, Domine !
On the long procession goes,

Glory round their crosses glows,
THE DREARY CHANGE.

And the Virgin-mother mild
(1917.)

In their peaceful banner smiled ;

Who could think such saintly band The sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill,

Doom'd to feel unhallow'd hand ?
In Ettrick's vale, is sinking sweet; Such was the Divine decree,
The westland wind is hush and still,

O miserere, Domine !
The lake lies sleeping at my feet.
Yet not the landscape to mine eye

Bands that masses only sung, Bears those bright hues that once

Hands that censers only swung, it bore;

Met the northern bow and bill, Though evening, with her richest dye, Heard the war-cry wild and shrill: Flames o'er the hills of Ettrick's Woe to Brockmael's feeble hand, shore.

Woe to Olfrid's bloody brand,

Woe to Saxon cruelty, With listless look along the plain,

O miserere, Domine! I see Tweed's silver current glide, And coldly mark the holy fane Weltering amid warriors slain,

Of Melrose rise in ruin'd pride. Spurn'd by steeds with bloody mane, The quiet lake, the balmy air,

Slaughter'd down by heathen blade, The hill, the stream, the tower, Bangor's peaceful monks are laid :

Word of parting rest unspoke, Are they still such as once they were ? Mass unsung, and bread unbroke ; Or is the dreary change in me? For their souls for charity,

Sing, miserere, Domine! Alas, the warp'd and broken board,

How can it bear the painter's dye ! | Bangor! o’er the murder wail ! The harp of strain'dand tuneless chord, Long thy ruins told the tale,

How to the minstrel's skill reply ! Shatter'd towers and broken arch To aching eyes each landscape lowers, Long recall’d the woful march: To feverish pulse each gale blows On thy shrine no tapers burn, chill;

Never shall thy priests return; And Araby's or Eden's bowers The pilgrim sighs and sings for thee, Were barren as this moorland hill.

O miserere, Domine !

the tree,

Such are the fruits of our dramatic

labour EPISTLE

Since the New Jail became our nextTO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BUCCLEUCH,

door neighbour. AT DRUMLANRIG CASTLE.

Yes, times are changed; for, in Sanquhar, 2 o'clock, July 30, 1817.

your fathers' age, FROM Ross, where the clouds on

The lawyers were the patrons of the Benlomond are sleeping

stage; From Greenock, where Clyde to the

However high advanced by future fate, Ocean is sweeping

There stands the bench [points to the From Largs, where the Scots gave

Pit] that first received their the Northmen a drilling

weight. From Ardrossan, whose harbour cost

The future legal sage, 'twas ours to many a shilling

see, From Old Cumnock, where beds are Doom though unwigg'd, and plead as hard as a plank, sir

without a fee. From a chop and green pease, and a chicken in Sanquhar,

But now,

astounding each poor This eve, please the Fates, at Drum

mimic elf, lanrig we anchor.

Instead of lawyers comes the law Walter Scott.

herself ; Tremendous neighbour, on our right

she dwells, Builds high her towers and excavates

her cells ; EPILOGUE TO THE APPEAL.' While on the left she agitates the

town, (Spoken by Mrs. Henry Siddons, With the tempestuous question, Up Feb. 16, 1818.)

or down?

'Twixt Scylla and Charybdis thus A cat of yore (or else old Æsop lied)

Law's final end, and law's uncertainty. Was changed into a fair and blooming But, soft! who lives at Rome the Pope bride,

must flatter, But spied a mouse upon her marriage. And jails and lawsuits are no jesting day,

matter. Forgot her spouse, and seized upon

Then-just farewell! We wait with her prey;

serious awe Even thus my bridegroom lawyer, as Till your applause or censure gives you saw,

the law. Threw off poor me, and pounced upon Trusting our humble efforts may papa.

assure ye, His neck from Hymen's mystic knot We hold you Court and Counsel, made loose,

Judge and Jury. He twisted round my sire's the literal

noose.

stand we,

CHORUS.

Cha till, cha till, cha till sin tuille! MACKRIMMON'S LAMENT.

Cha till, cha till, cha till sin tuille,

Cha till, cha till, cha till sin tuille, (1818.)

Gea thillis Macleod, cha till Mack

rimmon!' MacLeod's wizard flag from the grey

castle sallies, The rowers are seated, unmoor'd are the galleys;

DONALD CAIRD'S COME AGAIN. Gleam war-axe and broadsword, clang target and quiver,

(1818.) As Mackrimmon sings, 'Farewell to Dunvegan for ever!

DONALD Caird's come again ! Farewell to each cliff, on which breakers are foaming ;

Donald Caird's come again ! Farewell, each dark glen, in which

Tell the news in brugh and glen, red-deer are roaming ;

Donald Caird's come again ! Farewell, lonely Skye, to lake, moun Donald Caird can lilt and sing, tain, and river;

Blithely dance the Hieland fling, Macleod may return, but Mackrimmon

Drink till the gudeman be blind, shall never !

Fleech till the gudewise be kind;

Hoop a leglin, clout a pan, * Farewell the bright clouds that on Or crack a pow wi' ony man ;Quillan are sleeping;

Tell the news in brugh and glen, Farewell the bright eyes in the Dun Donald Caird's come again. that are weeping;

Donald Caird's come again ! To each minstrel delusion, farewell

Donald Caird's come again! and for ever!

Tell the news in brugh and glen, Mackrimmon departs, to return to Donald Caird's come again.

you never! The Banshee's wild voice sings the Donald Caird can wire maukin, death-dirge before me,

Kens the wiles o' dun-deer staukin', The pall of the dead for a mantle Leisters kipper, makes a shift hangs o'er me;

To shoot a muir-fowl in the drift; But my heart shall not flag, and my Water-bailiffs, rangers, keepers, nerves shall not shiver,

He can wauk when they are sleepers; Though devoted I go-to return again Not for bountith or rewaird never !

Dare ye mell wi' Donald Caird.

Donald Caird's come again! · Too oft shall the notes of Mack Donald Caird's come again! rimmon's bewailing

Gar the bagpipes hum amain, Be heard when the Gael on their Donald Caird's come again.

exile are sailing ; Dear land! to the shores, whence Donald Caird can drink a gill unwilling we sever,

Fast as hostler-wife can fill; Return-return-return

shall

Ilka ane that sells gude liquor never !

Kens how Donald bends a bicker;

we

we

When he's fou he's stout and saucy, But, oh! what symbol may avail to tell Keeps the cantle o' the causey;

The kindness, wit, and sense, Hieland chief and Lawland laird

loved so well! Maun gie room to Donald Caird ! What sculpture show the broken ties

of life, Donald Caird's come again !

Here buried with the parent, friend, Donald Caird's come again!

and wife! Tell the news in brugh and glen,

Or on the tablet stamp each title dear, Donald Caird's come again.

By which thine urn, EUPHEMIA, claims Steek the amrie, lock the kist,

the tear! Else some gear may weel be mis't; Yet taught, by thy meek sufferance, Donald Caird finds orra things

to assume Where Allan Gregor fand the tings?; Patience in anguish, hope beyond the Dunts of kebbuck, taits o' woo,

tomb, Whiles a hen and whiles a sow,

Resign'd, though sad, this votive verse Webs or duds frae hedge or yaird

shall flow, 'Ware the wuddie?, Donald Caird ! And brief, alas! as thy brief span below.

Donald Caird's come again !
Donald Caird's come again!
Dinna let the Shirra ken
Donald Caird's come again.

LIFE IN THE FOREST.
On Donald Caird the doom was stern,

(1822) Craig to tether, legs to airn ;

On Ettrick Forest's mountains dun But Donald Caird, wi' mickle study, 'Tis blithe to hear the sportsman's gun, Caught the gift to cheat the wuddie;

And seek the heath-frequenting brood Rings of airn, and bolts of steel,

Far through the noonday solitude ; Fell like ice frae hand and heel !

By many a cairn and trenched mound, Watch the sheep in fauld and glen, Where chiefs of yore sleep lone and Donald Caird's come again!

sound, Donald Caird's come again!

And springs, where grey-hair'd shepDonald Caird's come again!

herds tell,

That still the fairies love to dwell. Dinna let the Justice ken, Donald Caird's come again.

Along the silver streams of Tweed 'Tis blithe the mimic fly to lead,

When to the hook the salmon springs, EPITAPH ON MRS. ERSKINE. And the line whistles through the rings;

The boiling eddy see him try, (1819.)

Then dashing from the current high, Plain, as her native dignity of mind,

Till watchful eye and cautious hand Arise the tomb of her we have resign'd; Have led his wasted strength to land. Unflaw'd and stainless be the marble scroll,

'Tis blithe along the midnight tide Emblem of lovely form and candid With stalwart arm the boat to guide ; soul.

On high the dazzling blaze to rear, ["1 At the fireside.) [2 Hangman's rope.)

And heedful plunge the barbed spear;

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Rock, wood, and scaur, emerging But when friends drop around us in bright,

life's weary waning, Fling on the stream their ruddy light, The grief, Queen of Numbers, thou And from the bank our band appears

canst not assuage ; Like Genii, arm'd with fiery spears. Nor the gradual estrangement of those

yet remaining, 'Tis blithe at eve to tell the tale,

The languor of pain, and the chillHow we succeed, and how we fail,

ness of age. Whether at Alwyn's lordly meal,

'Twas thou that once taught me,

in Or lowlier board of Ashestiel ; While the gay tapers cheerly shine,

accents bewailing, Bickers the fire, and flows the wine

To sing how a warrior' lay stretch'd Days free from thought, and nights and a maiden hung o'er him with aid

on the plain, My blessing on the Forest fair!

unavailing,
And held to his lips the cold goblet

in vain;
As vain thy enchantments, o Queen

of wild Numbers,
FAREWELL TO THE MUSE.

To a bard when the reign of his (1822.)

fancy is o'er,

And the quick pulse of feeling in ENCHANTRESS, farewell, who so oft

apathy slumbershas decoy'd me,

Farewell, then, Enchantress! I meet At the close of the evening through

thee no more! woodlands to roam, Where the forester,

Plated, with wonder espied me

THE MAID OF ISLA. Explore the wild scenes he was

(1822.) quitting for home. Farewell, and take with thee thy

OH, Maid of Isla, from the cliff numbers wild speaking

That looks on troubled wave and sky, The language alternate of rapture

Dost thou vot see yon little skiff

Contend with ocean gallantly? Oh! none but some lover, whose

Now beating 'gainst the breeze and heartstrings are breaking,

surge, The pang that I feel at our parting

And steep'd her leeward deck in can know.

foam,

Why does she war unequal urge ? Each joy thou couldst double, and

Oh, Isla’s maid, she seeks her home. when there came sorrow,

Oh, Isla's maid, yon sea-bird mark, Or pale disappointment to darken

Her white wing gleams through my way,

mist and spray, What voice was like thine, that could Against the storm-cloud, lowering sing of to-morrow,

dark, Till forgot in the strain was the

As to the rock she wheels away; grief of to-day!

[1 Marmion.)

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