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FORTUNE, my Foe, why dost thou

frown on me? And will my Fortune never better

be? Wilt thou, I say, for ever breed my

pain? And wilt thou ne'er return my joys

again?

To youth, to age, alike, this tablet pale Tells the brief moral of its tragic tale. Artthoua parent? Reverence this bier, The parents' fondest hopes lie buried

here. Art thou a youth, prepared on life to

start, With opening talents and a generous

heart, Fair hopes and flattering prospects all

thine own? Lo! here their end--a monumental

stone. But let submission tame each sorrow

ing thought, Heaven crown'd its champion ere the

fight was fought.

(No! let my ditty be henceforth - ) Fortune, my Friend, how well thou

favourest me! A kinder Fortune man did never

see! Thou propp'st my thigh, thou ridd'st

my knee of pain, I'll walk, I'll mount-l'll be a man

again.

END OF THE MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

Notes to Miscellaneous Poems.

WAR-SONG OF THE ROYAL EDIN.

BURGH LIGHT DRAGOONS.

P.701.

FAREWELL TO MACKENZIE.

P. 722. The original verses are arranged to a beautiful Gaelic air, of which the chorus is adapted to the double pull upon the oars of a galley, and which is therefore distinct from the ordinary jorrams, or boat-songs, They were composed by the Family Bard upon the departure of the Earl of Seaforth, who was obliged to take refuge in Spain, after an unsuccessful effort at insurrection in favour of the Stuart family, in the year 1718.

PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.

Nennius. Is not peace the end of arms? Caratach. Not where the cause implies a general

conquest. Had we alifference with some petty isle, Or with our neighbours, Britons, for our landmarks, The taking in of some rebellious lord, Or making lead against a slight commotion, After a day of blood, peace inight be argued : But where we grapple for the land we live on, The liberty we hold inore dear than life, The gods we worship, and, next chese, our honours, And, with those, swords that know no end of battle 'Those men, beside themselves, allow no neighbour, Those minds, that, where the day is, claim inherit

ance, And, where the sun makes ripe the fruit, their harvest, And, where they march, but measure out more ground To add to Rome It must not be-No! as they are our foes, Let's use the peace of honour-that's fair dealing; But in our hands our swords. The hardy Roman. That thinks to graft himself into my stock, Must first begin his kindred under ground, And be allied in ashes.'

Bonduca. .

P. 731.

This is a very ancient pibroch belonging to Clan MacDonald, and supposed to refer to the expedition of Donald Balloch, who, in 1431, launched from the Isles with a considerable force, invaded Lochaber, and at Inverlochy defeated and put to flight the Earls of Mar and Caithness, though at the head of an army superior to his own. The words of the set, theine, or melody, to which the pipe variations are applied, run thus in Gaelic: *Piobaireachd Dhonuil Dhuidh, piobaireachd Dhonuil; Piobaircachd Dhonuil Dhuidh, piobaireachd Dhonui'; Piobaireachd Dhonuil Dhuidh, piobaireachd Dhonuil; Piob agus bratach air faiche Inverlochi.' The pipe-summons of Donald the Black, The pipe-summons of Donald the Black, The war-pipe and the pennon are on the gathering.

place at Inverlochy.'

The corps

MACKRIMMON'S LAMENT.

This War-Song was written during the apprehension of an invasion! of volunteers to which it was addressed was raised in 1797, consisting of gentlemen, mounted and arined at their own expense. It still subsists, as the Right Troop of the Royal Mid-Lothian Light Cavalry, com. manded by the Honourable LieutenantColonel Dundas?. The noble and constitutional measure of armning freemen in defence of their own rights was nowhere more successful than in Edinburgh, which furnished a force of 3000 armed and disciplined volunteers, including a regiment of cavalry, from the city and county, and two corps of artillery, each capable of serving twelve guns. To such a force, above all others, might, in similar circunstances, be applied the exhortation of ourancient Galgacus : 'Proinde ituri in aciem, et majores vestros et Posteros cogitate.' 1812.

P. 74+.

Mackrimmon, hereditary piper to the Laird of Macleod, is said to have composed this Lament when the Clan was about to depart upon a distant and dangerous ex pedition. The Minstrel was impressed with a belief, which the event verified, that he was to be slain in the approaching feud: and hence the Gaelic words, 'Cha till ini tuille; ged thillis Macleod, cha till Mackrimmon, I shall never return; although Macleod returns, yet Mackrimmon shall never return!' The picce is but too well known, from its being the strain with which the emni. grants froin the West Highlands and Isles usually take leave of their native shore.

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full gay ;

1.

But on his fore-horse his wench he

carries, FROM WAVERLEY.

And away to Tewin, away, away! BRIDAL SONG.

The butler was quick, and the ale he

did tap, And did ye not hear of a mirth befel

The maidens did make the chamber The morrow after a wedding day, And carrying a bride at home to dwell?

Theservants did give me a fuddling cup, And away to Tewin, away, away? And I did carry't away, away. The quintain was set, and the garlands The smith of the town his liquor so were made,

took, 'Tis pity old customs should ever That he was persuaded that the

ground look'd blue; And woe be to him that was horsed on And I dare boldly be sworn on a a jade,

book, For he carried no credit away, away.

Such smiths as he there's but a few. We met a concert of fiddle-de-dees; A posset was made, and the women We set them a cockhorse, and made

did sip,

And simpering said, they could eat The winning of Bullen, and Upsey

no more ; frees,

Full many a maiden was laid on the And away to Tewin, away, away!

lip,

I'll say no more, but give o'er, (give There was ne'er a lad in all the parish

o'er). That would go to the plough that (APPENDIX TO GENERAL PREFACE

apud QUEENHOO HALL.)

decay;

them play

day;

As fair, as flitting, and as frail, LINES BY CAPTAIN WAVERLEY

As that which fled the autumn gale ON RECEIVING HIS COMMISSION IN For ever dead to fancy's eye COLONEL GARDINER'S REGIMENT. Be each gay form that glided by,

While dreams of loveandlady's charms LATE, when the autumn evening fell

Give place to honour and to arms!
On Mirkwood-Mere's romantic dell,
The lake return’d, in chasten'd gleam,

Chap. v.
The purple cloud, the golden beam :
Reflected in the crystal pool,
Headland and bank lay fair and cool ; Davie GELLATLEY sings :-
The weather-tinted rock and tower,

False love, and hast thou play'd me Each drooping tree, each fairy flower,

this So true, so soft, the mirror gave,

In summer among the flowers ? As if there lay beneath the wave,

I will repay thee back again Secure from trouble, toil, and care,

In winter among the showers. A world than earthly world more fair.

Unless again, again, my love,

Unless you turn again ; But distant winds began to wake,

As you with other maidens rove,
And roused the Genius of the Lake!

I'll smile on other men.
He heard the groaning of the oak,
And donn'd at once his sable cloak,
As warrior, at the battle cry,

The Knight's to the mountain
Invests him with his panoply:

His bugle to wind;
Then, as the whirlwind nearer press’d, The Lady's to greenwood
He 'gan to shake his foamy crest Her garland to bind.
O'er furrow'd brow and blacken'd The bower of Burd Ellen
cheek,

Has moss on the floor,
And bade his surge in thunder speak. That the step of Lord William
In wild and broken eddies whirl'd,

Be silent and sure.
Flitted that fond ideal world ;

Chap. ix.
And, to the shore in tumult tost,
The realms of fairy bliss were lost.
Yet, with a stern delight and strange,

SCENELuckie Macleary's Tavern, I saw the spirit-stirring change.

BARON BRADWARDINE sings :As warr'd the wind with wave and wood,

Mon cœur volage, dit-elle, Upon the ruin'd tower I stood,

N'est pas pour vous, garçon; And felt my heart more strongly bound, Mais pour un homme de guerre, Responsive to the lofty sound,

Qui a barbe au menton. While, joying in the mighty roar,

Lon, Lon, Laridon. I mourn'd that tranquil scene no more.

Qui porte chapeau à plume,
So, on the idle dreams of youth Soulier à rouge talon,
Breaks the loud trumpet-call of truth, Qui joue de la flûte,
Bids each fair vision pass away,

Aussi du violon.
Like landscape on the lake that lay,

Lon, Lon, Laridon.

of her eye.

BALMAWHAPPLE sings :

The Lady she sate in Saint Swithin's

Chair, It's up Glenbarchan's braes I gaed,

The dew of the night has damp'd her And o'er the bent of Killiebraid,

hair: And mony a weary cast I made,

Her cheek was pale—but resolved and To cuittle the moor-fowl's tail.

high If up a bonny black-cock should spring,

Was the word of her lip and the glance To whistle him down wi' a slug in his

wing, And strap him on to my lunzie string,

She mutter'd the spell of Swithin Right seldom would I fail.

bold,

When his naked foot traced the midChap. XI.

night wold,

When he stopp'd the Hag as she rode GELLATLEY'S SONG TO THE

the night, DEERHOUNDS.

And bade her descend, and her promise

plight. Hie away, hie away, Over bank and over brae,

He that dare sit on Saint Swithin's Where the copsewood is the greenest, Chair, Where the fountains glisten sheenest, When the Night-Hag wings the Where the lady-fern grows strongest,

troubled air, Where the morning dew lies longest, Questions three, when he speaks the Where the black-cock sweetest sips it,

spell, Where the fairy latest trips it:

He may ask, and she must tell.
Hie to haunts right seldom seen,
Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green, The Baron has been with King Robert
Over bank and over brae,

his liege,
hie
away

These three long years, in battle and Chap. XII.

siege; News are there none of his weal or

Hie away,

his woe,

ST. SWITHIN'S CHAIR.

And fain the Lady his fate would On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere you boune

know. ye to rest, Ever beware that your couch be

She shudders and stops as the charm bless'd;

she speaks ;Sign it with cross, andsain it with bead, Is it the moody owl that shrieks? Sing the Ave, and say the Creed.

Or is that sound, betwixt laughter and

scream, For on Hallow-Mass Eve the Night- | The voice of the Demon who haunts Hag will ride,

the stream? And all her nine-fold sweeping on by her side,

The moan of the wind sunk silent and Whether the wind sing lowly or loud,

low, Sailing through moonshine or swath'd And the roaring torrent had ceased to

in the cloud.

flow;

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