From Canna's tower, that, steep and gray.
Like falcon-nest o'erhangs the bay.*
Seek not the giddy crag to climb,
To view the turret scathed by time;
It is a task of doubt and fear
To aught but goat or mountain-deer.
But rest thee on the silver beach,
And let the aged herdsman teach

His tale of former day;

His cur's wild clamour he shall chide,
And for thy seat by ocean's side,

His varied plaid display;

Then tell, how with their Chieftain came,
In ancient times, a foreign dame

To yondert turret gray.

Stern was her Lord's suspicious mind,
Who in so rude a jail confined

So soft and fair a thrall!
And oft when moon on ocean slept,
That lovely lady sate and wept

Upon the castle-wall,

And turn'd her eye to southern climes
And thought perchance of happier times,
And touch'd her lute by fits, and sung
Wild ditties in her native tongue.
And still, when on the cliff and bay
Placid and pale the moonbeams play,
And every breeze is mute,

Upon the lone Hebridean's ear

Steals a strange pleasure mix'd with fear,
While from that cliff he seems to hear

The murmur of a lute,

And sounds as of a captive lone,

That mourns her woes in tongue unknown.-
Strange is the tale-but all too long
Already hath it staid the song-

*The little island of Canna, or Cannay, adjoins to those of Rum and Muick, with which it forms one parish. In a pretty bay opening towards the east, there is a lofty and slender rock detached from the shore. Upon the summit are the ruins of a very small tower, scarcely accessible by a steep and precipitous path. Here it is said one of the kings, or Lords of the Isles, confined a beautiful lady, of whom he was jealous. The ruins are of course haunted by her restless spirit, and many romantic stories are told by the aged people of the island concerning her fate in life, and her appearance, after death.

(MS." To Canna's turret gray."] !["The stanzas which follow are, we think, touchingly beau tiful, and breathe a sweet and melancholy tenderness, perfectly suitable to the sad tale which they record."-Critical Review.] (MS." That crag with crest of ruins gray."]

Ronin (popularly called Rum, a name which a poet may be pardoned for avoiding if possible) is a very rough and mountainous island, adjacent to those of Eigg and Cannay. There is almost no arable ground upon it, so that, except in the plenty of the deer, which of course are now nearly extirpated, it still deserves the description bestowed by the archdean of the Isles. "Ronin, sixteen myle north-wast from the ile of Coll, lyes ane ile callit Ronin Ile, of sixteen myle long, and six in bredthe in the narrowest, ane forest of heigh mountains, and abundance of little deir in it, quhilk deir will never be slane dounewith, but the principal saittis man be in the height of the hill, because the deir will be callit upwart ay be the tainchell, or without tynchel they will pass upwart perforce. In this ile will be gotten about Britane als many wild nests upon the plane mure as men pleasis to gadder, and yet by resson the fowls hes few to start them except deir. This ile lyes from the west to the eist in lenth, and pertains to M'Kenabrey of Colla. Many solan geese are in this ile."-MONRO's Description of the Western Isles, p. 18.

These, and the following lines of the stanza, refer to a dreadful tale of feudal vengeance, of which unfortunately there are relics that still attest the truth. Scoor Eigg is a high peak in the centre of the small Isle of Eigg, or Egg. It is well known to mineralogists, as affording many interesting specimens, and to others whom chance or curiosity may lead to the island, for the astonishing view of the mainland and neighbouring isles, which it commands. I shall again avail myself of the journal' I have

quoted.*

*26th August, 1814-At seven this morning we were in the Sound which divides the Isle of Rum from that of Egg. The latter, although hilly and rocky, and traversed by a remarkably high and barren ridge, called Scoor Rigg, has, in point of soil, a much more promising appearance. Southward of both lies the Isle of Muich, or Muck, a low and fertile island, and though the least, yet probably the most valuable of the three. We manned the boat, and rowed along the shore of Egg in quest of a cavern, which had been the memorable scene of a horrid feudal ven geance. We had rounded more than half the island, admiring the

Yet who may pass them by, That crag and tower in ruins gray,§ Nor to their hapless tenant pay The tribute of a sigh!

IX.

Merrily, merrily bounds the bark
O'er the broad ocean driven,
Her path by Ronin's mountains dark
The steersman's hand hath given.
And Ronin's mountains dark have sent
Their hunters to the shore, il
And each his ashen bow unbent,

And gave his pastime o'er,
And at the Island Lord's command,
For hunting spear took warrior's brand.
On Scooreigg next a warning light
Summon'd her warriors to the fight:
A numerous race, ere stern Macleod
O'er their bleak shores in vengeance strode,
When all in vain the ocean-cave
Its refuge to his victims gave.
The Chief, relentless in his wrath,
With blazing heath blockades the path;
In dense and stifling volumes roll'd,
The vapour fill'd the cavern'd hold!
The warrior-threat, the infant's plain,
The mother's screams, were heard in vain ;
The vengeful Chief maintains his fires,
Till in the vault** a tribe expires!

The bones which strew that cavern's gloom, Too well attest their dismal doom.

X.

Merrily, merrily goes the barktt

On a breeze from the northward free, feet; the height at the entrance may be about three feet, bet rises within to eighteen or twenty, and the breadth may vary in the same proportion. The rude and stony bottom of this cave s strewed with the bones of men, women, and children, the sad relics of the ancient inhabitants of the island, 200 in number, who were slain on the following occasion:-The Mac Donalds of the Isle of Egg, a people dependent on Clan-Ranald, bad done scre injury to the Laird of Mac-Leod. The tradition of the isle says, that it was by a personal attack on the chieftain, in which la back was broken. But that of the other isles bears, more probably, that the injury was offered to two or three of the Mac Leods, who, landing upon Eigg, and using some freedom with the young women, were seized by the islanders, bound hand and foc and turned adrift in a boat, which the winds and waves sally conducted to Skye. To avenge the offence given, Mac Leod sailed with such a body of men, as rendered resistance hopeas, The natives, fearing his vengeance, concealed themselves in this cavern, and after a strict search, the Mac-Leods went on board their galleys, after doing what mischief they could, concluding the inhabitants had left the isle, and betaken themselves to the Long Island, or some of Clan-Ranaid's other possessions. B next morning they espied from the vessels a man upon the island, and immediately landing again, they traced his retreat by the marks of his footsteps, a light snow being unhappily on the ground. Mac-Leod then surrounded the cavern, summoned the subterra nean garrison, and demanded that the individuals who had offended him should be delivered up to him. This was peremp torily refused. The chieftain then caused his people to dve the course of a till of water, which, falling over the entrance of the cave, would have prevented his purposed vengeance. He then kindled at the entrance of the cavern a huge fire, composed of turf and fern, and maintained it with unrelenting assida. until all within were destroyed by suffocation. The date of thes dreadful deed must have been recent, if one may judge from the fresh appearance of those relics. I brought off, in site of the prejudice of our sailors, a skull from among the numerous spe mens of mortality which the cavern afforded. Before re-enbark ing we visited another cave, opening to the sea, but of a charac ter entirely different, being a large open vault as high as that of a cathedral, and running back a great way into the rock at the same height. The height and width of the opening gives ample light to the whole. Here, after 1745, when the Catholic priests were scarcely tolerated, the priest of Eigg used to perform the Roman Catholic service, most of the islanders being of that per suasion. A huge ledge of rocks rising about half way up one side of the vault, served for altar and pulpit; and the appearance of a priest and Highland congregation in such an extraordinary place of worship, might have engaged the pencil of Salvator."

** (MS.-"Till in their smoke," &c.] **And so also merrily, merrily, goes the bard.' in a succes sion of merriment, which, like Dogberry's tediousness, he finds it in his heart to bestow wholly and entirely on us, through pare

So shoots through the morning sky the lark,
Or the swan through the summer sea.
The shores of Mull on the eastward lay,
And Ulva dark and Colonsay,
And all the group of islets gay

That guard famed Staffa round.
Then all unknown its columns rose,
Where dark and undisturb'd reposef
The cormorant had found,
And the shy seal had quiet home,
And welter'd in that wondrous dome,
Where, as to shame the temples deck'd
By skill of earthly architect,

Nature herself, it seem'd, would raise
A Minster to her Maker's praise !+
Not for a meaner use ascend
Her columns, or her arches bend;
Nor of a theme less solemn tells

That mighty surge that ebbs and swells
And still, between each awful pause,
From the high vault an answer draws,
In varied tone prolong'd and high,
That mocks the organ's melody..
Nor doth its entrance front in vain
To old Iona's holy fane,

That Nature's voice might seem to say,
"Well hast thou done, frail Child of clay!
Thy humble powers that stately shrine
Task'd high and hard-but witness mine !"'§
XI.

Merrily, merrily goes the bark,

Before the gale she bounds;

So darts the dolphin from the shark,
Or the deer before the hounds.

["Of the prominent beauties which abound in the poem, the most magnificent we consider to be the description of the cele brated Cave of Fingal, which is conceived in a mighty mind, and is expressed in a strain of poetry, clear, simple, and sublime."British Critic.).

[M8.- Where niched, his undisturb'd repose."]

It would be unpardonable to detain the reader upon a wonder so often described, and yet so incapable of being understood by description. This palace of Neptune is even grander upon a second than the first view. The stupendous columns which form the sides of the cave, the depth and strength of the tide which rolls its deep and heavy swell up to the extremity of the vaultthe variety of tints formed by white, crimson, and yellow stalactites, or petrifactions, which occupy the vacancies between the base of the broken pillars which form the roof, and intersect them with a rich, curious, and variegated chasing, occupying each interatice the corresponding variety below water, where the ocean rolls over a dark-red or violet-coloured rock, from which as from a base, the basaltic columns arise-the tremendous noise of the swelling tide, mingling with the deep-toned echoes of the vault, are circumstances elsewhere unparalleled.

Nothing can be more interesting than the varied appearance of the little archipelago of islets, of which Staffa is the most remarkable. This group, called in Gaelic Tresharnish, affords a thouRand varied views to the voyager, as they appear in different posi tions with reference to his course. The variety of their shape contributes much to the beauty of these effects.

[The MS. adds,

"Which, when the ruins of thy pile

Cumber the desolated isle,

Firm and immutable shall stand,

Gainst winds, and waves, and spoiler's hand."]

We were now treading that illustrious island, which was once the luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge, and the blessings of religion. To abstract the mind from all local emotion would be impossible, if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish, if it were possible. Whatever withdraws us from the power of Our senses; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and from my friends be such frigid philosophy, as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of lona."-JOHNSON.]

(MS-His short but bright," &c.]

**The ballad, entitled "Macphail of Colonsay, and the Mermaid of Corrievrekin," [See Border Minstrelsy, ante, p. 221,] was composed by John Leyden, from a tradition which he found while making a tour through the Hebrides about 1801, soon before his fatal departure for India, where, after having made farther proreas in oriental literature than any man of letters who had embraced those studies, he died a martyr to his zeal for knowledge, in the island of Java, immediately after the landing of our forces near Batavia, in August, 1811.

The peninsula of Cantire is joined to south Knapdale by a very narrow isthmus, formed by the western and eastern Loch of Tar bat. These two salt water lakes, or bays, encroach so far upon the land, and the extremities come so near to each other, that there is not above a mile of land to divide them.

"It is not long," says Pennant," since vessels of nine or ten

They left Loch-Tua on their lee,

And they waken'd the men of the wild Tiree,
And the Chief of the sandy Coll;

They paused not at Columba's isle,
Though peal'd the bells from the holy pile
With long and measured toll ;||
No time for matin or for mass,

And the sounds of the holy summons pass
Away in the billows' roll.
Lochbuie's fierce and warlike Lord
Their signal saw, and grasp'd his sword,
And verdant Ilay call'd her host,
And the clans of Jura's rugged coast
Lord Ronald's call obey,

And Scarba's isle, whose tortured shore
Still rings to Corrievreken's roar,

And lonely Colonsay;

-Scenes sung by him who sings no more! His bright and brief T career is o'er, And mute his tuneful strains; Quench'd is his lamp of varied lore, That loved the light of song to pour; A distant and a deadly shore, Has LEYDEN's cold remains!**

XII.

Ever the breeze blows merrily,
But the galley ploughs no more the sea.
Lest, rounding wild Cantire, they meet
The southern foeman's watchful fleet,

They held unwonted way;

Up Tarbat's western lake they bore,
Then dragg'd their bark the isthmus o'er,tt
As far as Kilmaconnel's shore,

Upon the eastern bay.

tons were drawn by horses out of the west loch into that of the east, to avoid the dangers of the Mull of Cantyre, so dreaded and so little known was the navigation round that promontory. It is the opinion of many, that these little isthmuses, so frequently styled Tarbat in North Britain, took their name from the above circumstance: Tarruing, signifying to draw, and Bata, a boat. This too might be called, by way of pre-eminence, the Tarbat, from a very singular circumstance related by Torfous. When Magnus, the barefooted king of Norway, obtained from Donaldbane of Scotland the cession of the Western Isles, or all those places that could be surrounded in a boat, he added to them the peninsula of Cantyre by this fraud; he placed himself in the stern of a boat, held the rudder, was drawn over this narrow track, anu by this species of navigation wrested the country from his brother monarch"-PENNANT'S Scotland, London, 1790, p. 190.

But that Bruce also made this passage, although at a period two or three years later than in the poem, appears from the evidence of Barbour, who mentions also the effect produced upon the minds of the Highlanders, from the prophecies current amongst them :"Bot to King Robert will we gang, That we haff left wnspoken of lang. Quhen he had conwoyit to the se His brodyr Eduuard, and his menye, And othyr men of gret noblay.

To Tarbart thai held thair way,

In galayis ordanyt for thair far.

Bot thaim worthyt* draw thair schippis thar:
And a myle wes betuix the seys;
Bot that wes lompnytt all with treis.
The King his schippis thar gert: draw.
And for the wynd couths stoutly blaw
Apon thair bak, as thai wald ga,
He gert men rapys and mastis ta,
And set thaim in the schippis hey,
And sayllis to the toppis tey;

And gert men gang thar by drawand.
The wynd thaim helpyt, that was blawand;
Swa that, in a litill space.

Thair flote all our drawin was.

"And quhen thai, that in the Ilis war,
Hard tell how the gud King had thar.
Gert hys schippis with saillis ga
Owt our betuix [the] Tarbart [is] twa,
Thai war abaysit sa wtrely.
For thai wyst, throw auld prophecy,
That he that suld ger schippis sua
Betuix thai seis with sallis ga,
Suld wyne the Ilis sua till hand,
That nane with strenth suld him withstand.
Tharfor that come all to the King.
Wes nane withstud his bidding,
Owtakyn** Jhope of Lorne allayne.
Bot weill sone eftre wes he tayne;
And present rycht to the King.
And thai that war of his leding,
That till the King had brokyn fay,**
War all dede, and destroy it away."

BARBOUR'S Bruce, Book x., v. 821.

⚫ Were obliged to.-t Laid with trees- Caused. Could.- Con founded.-Make. Excepting.-†† Faith.

It was a wondrous sight to see
Topmast and pennon glitter free,
High rais'd above the greenwood tree,
As on dry land the galley moves,
By cliff and copse and alder groves.
Deep import from that selcouth sign,
Did many a mountain Seer divine,
For ancient legends told the Gael,
That when a royal bark should sail
O'er Kilmaconnel moss,
Old Albyn should in fight prevail,
And every foe should faint and quail
Before her silver Cross.

XIII.

Now launch'd once more, the inland sea They furrow with fair augury,

And steer for Arran's isle; The sun, ere yet he sunk behind Ben-Ghoil, "the Mountain of the Wind," Gave his grim peaks a greeting kind,

And bade Loch Ranza smile.*
Thither their destined course they drew;
It seem'd the isle her monarch knew,
So brilliant was the landward view,
The ocean so serene;

Each puny wave in diamonds roll'd
O'er the calm deep, where hues of gold

With azure strove and green.
The hill, the vale, the tree, the tower,
Glow'd with the tints of evening's hour,

The beach was silver sheen,
The wind breathed soft as lover's sigh,
And, oft renew'd, seem'd oft to die,

With breathless pause between.
O who, with speech of war and woes,
Would wish to break the soft repose
Of such enchanting scene!

XIV.

Is it of war Lord Ronald speaks?
The blush that dyes his manly cheeks,
The timid look, and downcast eye,
And faltering voice the theme deny.

And good King Robert's brow express'd,
He ponder'd o'er some high request,
As doubtful to approve;
Yet in his eye and lip the while,
Dwelt the half-pitying glance and smile,
Which manhood's graver mood beguile,
When lovers talk of love.

Anxious his suit Lord Ronald pled;

And for my bride betrothed," he said, "My Liege has heard the rumour spread Of Edith from Artornish fled. Too hard her fate-I claim no rightt To blame her for her hasty flight; Be joy and happiness her lot!But she hath fled the bridal-knot, And Lorn recall'd his promised plight, In the assembled chieftains' sight.When, to fulfil our fathers' band, I proffer'd all I could-my handI was repulsed with scorn; Mine honour I should ill assert, And worse the feelings of my heart, If I should play a suitor's part Again, to pleasure Lorn."

XV.

I guess the Champion of the Rock,
Victorious in the tourney shock,
That knight unknown, to whom the prize
She dealt, had favour in her eyes;
But since our brother Nigel's fate,
Our ruin'd house and hapless state,
From worldly joy and hope estranged,
Much is the hapless mourner changed.
Perchance," here smiled the noble King,
"This tale may other musings bring.
Soon shall we know-yon mountains hide
The little convent of Saint Bride;
There, sent by Edward, she must stay,
Till fate shall give more prosperous day ;$
And thither will I bear thy suit,
Nor will thine advocate be mute."

XVI.

As thus they talk'd in earnest mood,
That speechless boy beside them stood.
He stoop'd his head against the mast,
And bitter sobs came thick and fast,
A grief that would not be repress'd,
But seem'd to burst his youthful breast.
His hands, against his forehead held,
As if by force his tears repell'd,
But through his fingers, long and slight,
Fast trill'd the drops of crystal bright.
Edward, who walk'd the deck apart,
First spied this conflict of the heart.
Thoughtless as brave, with bluntness kind
He sought to cheer the sorrower's mind;
By force the slender hand he drew
From those poor eyes that stream'd with dew.
As in his hold the stripling strove,-
('Twas a rough grasp, though meant in love,)
Away his tears the warrior swept,
And bade shame on him that he wept.
"I would to heaven, thy helpless tongue
Could tell me who hath wrought thee wrong!
For, were he of our crew the best,
The insult went not unredress'd.
Come, cheer thee; thou art now of age
To be a warrior's gallant page;
Thou shalt be mine!-a palfrey fair
O'er hill and holt my boy shall bear,
To hold my bow in hunting grove,
Or speed on errand to my love;
For well I wot thou wilt not tell
The temple where my wishes dwell."

XVII.
Bruce interposed,-" Gay Edward, no,
This is no youth to hold thy bow,
To fill thy goblet, or to bear
Thy message light to lighter fair.
Thou art a patron all too wild

And thoughtless, for this orphan child.
See'st thou not how apart he steals,
Keeps lonely couch, and lonely meals?
Fitter by far in yon calm cell
To tend our sister Isabel,
With father Augustin to share

The peaceful change of convent prayer,
Than wander wild adventures through,
With such a reckless guide as you."-
"Thanks, brother!" Edward answer'd gay,
"For the high laud thy words convey!
But we may learn some future day,
If thou or I can this poor boy
Protect the best, or best employ.
Meanwhile, our vessel nears the strand;
Launch we the boat, and seek the land.
XVIII.

To land King Robert lightly sprung,
And thrice aloud his bugle rung
NANT's Tour to the Western Isles, p. 191-2. Ben-Ghaoil, the
mountain of the winds," is generally known by its English, and
less poetical name, of Goatfield.

(MS.

-"no tongue is mine To blame her," &c.] [MS.-"The princely Bruce."]

$ (MS.-"Thither, by Edward sent, she stays

Till fate shall lend more prosperous days."]

[MS.-" And as away the tears he swept.

He bade shame on him that he went. "I

With note prolong'd and varied strain,
Till bold Ben-ghoil replied again.
Good Douglas then, and De la Haye,
Had in a glen a hart at bay,

And Lennox cheer'd the laggard hounds,

When waked that horn the greenwood bounds.
"It is the foe!" cried Boyd, who came
In breathless haste with eye on flame,-
"It is the foe!-Each valiant lord
Fling by his bow, and grasp his sword!"-
"Not so," replied the good Lord James,
"That blast no English bugle claims.
Oft have I heard it fire the fight,
Cheer the pursuit, or stop the flight.
Dead were my heart, and deaf mine ear,
If Bruce should call, nor Douglas hear!
Each to Loch Ranza's margin spring;
That blast was winded by the King!"*
XIX.

Fast to their mates the tidings spread,
And fast to shore the warriors sped,
Bursting from glen and greenwood tree,
High waked their loyal jubilee!
Around the royal Bruce they crowd,
And clasp'd his hands, and wept aloud.
Veterans of early fields were there,
Whose helmets press'd their hoary hair,
Whose swords and axes bore a stain
From life-blood of the red-hair'd Dane;t

And boys, whose hands scarce brook'd to wield
The heavy sword or bossy shield.

Men too were there, that bore the scars
Impress'd in Albyn's woful wars,
At Falkirk's fierce and fatal fight,
Teyndrum s dread rout and Methven's flight;
The might of Douglas there was seen,
There Lennox with his graceful mien;
Kirkpatrick, Closeburn's dreaded Knight;
The Lindsay, fiery, fierce, and light;
The heir of murder'd De la Haye,
And Boyd the grave, and Seton gay.
Around their King regain'd they press'd,
Wept, shouted, clasp'd him to their breast,
And young and old, and serf and lord,
And he who ne'er unsheathed a sword,
And he in many a peril tried,
Alike resolved the brunt to bide,
And live or die by Bruce's side!

*The passage m Barbour, describing the landing of Bruce, and his being recognised by Douglas and those of his followers who had preceded him, by the sound of his horn, is in the original singularly simple and affecting.-The king arrived in Arran with thirty-three small row-boats. He interrogated a female if there had arrived any warlike men of late in that country. "Surely, sir," she replied, "I can tell you of many who lately came hither, discomfited the English governor, and blockaded his castle of Brodick. They maintain themselves in a wood at no great distance." The king, truly conceiving that this must be Douglas and his followers, who had lately set forth to try their fortune in Arran, desared the woman to conduct him to the wood. She obeyed. "The king then blew his horn on high: And gert his men that were him by, Hold them still, and all privy; And syne again his horne blew he. James of Dowglas heard him blow, And at the last alone gan know, And said, 'Soothly yon is the king: I know long while since his blowing.' The third time therewithali he blew, And then Sir Robert Boyd it knew; And said, 'Yon is the king, but dread, Go we forth till him, better speed.' Then went they till the king in hye, And him inclined courteously. And blithely welcomed them the king, And was joyful of their meeting, And kissed them; and speared* syne How they had fared in hunting? And they him told all, but lesing :† Syne laud they God of their meeting. Syne with the king till his harbourye Went both joyfu' and jolly.

BARBOUR'S Bruce, Book v. p. 115, 116. [MS.-"Impress'd by life-blood of the Dane."] I [MS.-" If not on Britain's warlike ground."] $ ["Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed, When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead. For us, even banquets fond regret supply In the red cup that crowns our memory;

XX.

Oh, War! thou hast thy fierce delight,
Thy gleams of joy, intensely bright!
Such gleams, as from thy polish'd shield
Fly dazzling o'er the battle-field!
Such transports wake, severe and high,
Amid the pealing conquest-cry;
Scarce less, when, after battle lost,
Muster the remnants of a host,
And as each comrade's name they tell,
Who in the well-fought conflict fell,
Knitting stern brow o'er flashing eye,
Vow to avenge them or to die!-
Warriors!-and where are warriors found,
If not on martial Briton's ground?‡
And who, when waked with note of fire,
Love more than they the British lyre?-
Know ye not,-hearts to honour dear!
That joy, deep thrilling, stern, severe,
At which the heartstrings vibrate high,
And wake the fountains of the eye ?$
And blame ye, then, the Bruce, if trace
Of tear is on his manly face,
When, scanty relics of the train
That hail'd at Scone his early reign,
This patriot band around him hung,
And to his knees and bosom clung?-
Blame ye the Bruce ?-his brother blamed,
But shared the weakness, while ashamed,
With haughty laugh his head he turn'd,
And dash'd away the tear he scorn'd.ll

XXI.

'Tis morning, and the Convent bell
Long time had ceased its matin knell,
Within thy walls, Saint Bride!
An aged Sister sought the cell
Assign'd to Lady Isabel,

And hurriedly she cried,

"Haste, gentle Lady, haste-there waits
A noble stranger at the gates;

Saint Bride's poor vot'ress ne'er has seen
A Knight of such a princely mien;
His errand, as he bade me tell,
Is with the Lady Isabel."
The princess rose,- for on her knee
Low bent she told her rosary,-¶
"Let him by thee his purpose teach;
I may not give a stranger speech."-

And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!"

"Out taken him, men has not seen
Where he for any men made moaning."

And here the venerable Archdeacon intimates a piece of scandal. Sir Edward Bruce, it seems, loved Ross's sister. par amours, to the neglect of his own lady, sister to David de Strathbogie, Earl of Athole. This criminal passion had evil consequences; for, in resentment of the affront done to his sister, Athole attacked the guard which Bruce had left at Cambuskenneth. during the battle of Bannockburn, to protect his magazine of provisions, and slew Sir William Keith, the commander. For which treason he was forfeited.

In like manner, when in a sally from Carrickfergus, Neil Fleming, and the guards whom he commanded, had fallen, after the protracted resistance which saved the rest of Edward Bruce's army, he made such moan as surprised his followers:

"Sic moan he made men had ferly,!

For he was not customably

Wont for to moan men any thing,

Nor would not hear men make moaning."

Such are the nice traits of character so often lost in general history.

Mr. Scott, we have said, contradicts himself. How will he explain the following facts to his reader's satisfaction? The third canto informs us that Isabel accompanies Edward to Ireland, there to remain till the termination of the war; and in the fourth canto, the second day after her departure, we discover the princess counting her beads and reading homilies in the Cloister of St. Bride, in the Island of Arran! We humbly beseech the 'Mighty Minstrel' to clear up this matter."-Critical Review.]

Wonder.

"Saint Bride forefend, thou royal Maid!"
The portress cross'd herself, and said,-
"Not to be prioress might I
Debate his will, his suit deny."-
"Has earthly show then, simple fool,
Power o'er a sister of thy rule,

And art thou, like the worldly train,.
Subdued by splendours light and vain ?"-
XXII.

"No, Lady! in old eyes like mine,
Gauds have no glitter, gems no shine;
Nor grace his rank attendants vain,
One youthful page is all his train.
It is the form, the eye, the word,
The bearing of that stranger Lord;
His stature, manly, bold, and tall,
Built like a castle's battled wall,
Yet moulded in such just degrees,
His giant strength seems lightsome ease.
Close as the tendrils of the vine
His locks upon his forehead twine,
Jet-black, save where some touch of gray
Has ta'en the youthful hue away.
Weather and war their rougher trace
Have left on that majestic face;-
But 'tis his dignity of eye!
There, if a suppliant, would I fly,
Secure, mid danger, wrongs, and grief,
Of sympathy, redress, relief-

That glance, if guilty, would I dread
More than the doom that spoke me dead!"
"Enough, enough," the princess cried,
"'Tis Scotland's hope, her joy, her pride!
To meaner front was ne'er assign'd
Such mastery o'er the common mind-
Bestow'd thy high designs to aid,
How long, Ó Heaven! how long delay'd!-
Haste, Mona, haste to introduce"
My darling brother, royal Bruce!"
XXIII.

They met like friends who part in pain,
And meet in doubtful hope again.
But when subdued that fitful swell,
The Bruce survey'd the humble cell;-
"And this is thine, poor Isabel !—
That pallet-couch, and naked wall,
For room of state, and bed of pall;
For costly robes and jewels rare,
A string of beads and zone of hair;
And for the trumpet's sprightly call
To sport or banquet, grove or hall,
The bell's grim voice divides thy care,
"Twixt hours of penitence and prayer!-
O ill for thee, my royal claim

From the First David's sainted name!
O wo for thee, that while he sought
His right, thy brother feebly fought!"-
'XXIV.

"Now lay these vain regrets aside,
And be the unshaken Bruce!" she cried.
"For more I glory to have shared
The woes thy venturous spirit dared,
When raising first thy valiant band
In rescue of thy native land,

Than had fair Fortune set me down
The partner of an empire's crown.

And grieve not that on Pleasure's stream
No more I drive in giddy dream,
For Heaven the erring pilot knew,
And from the gulf the vessel drew,
Tried me with judgments stern and great,
My house's ruin, thy defeat,

* [MS." But when subsides," &c.]

Poor Nigel's death, till tamed, I own,
My hopes are fixed on Heaven alone;
Nor e'er shall earthly prospects win
My heart to this vain world of sin."-
XXV.

"Nay, Isabel, for such stern choice,
First wilt thou wait thy brother's voice;
Then ponder if in convent scene
No softer thoughts might intervene
Say they were of that unknown Knight,
Victor in Woodstock's tourney-fight-
Nay, if his name such blush you owe,
Victorious o'er a fairer foe!"

Truly his penetrating eye

Hath caught that blush's passing dye,-
Like the last beam of evening thrown
On a white cloud,-just seen and gone.t
Soon with calm cheek and steady eye,
The princess made composed reply:
"I guess my brother's meaning well;
For not so silent is the cell,

But we have heard the islesmen all
Arm in thy cause at Ronald's call,

And mine eye proves that Knight unknownt
And the brave Island Lord are one.-
Had then his suit been earlier made,

In his own name, with thee to aid,
(But that his plighted faith forbade,)§

I know not... But thy page so near?

This is no tale for menial's ear."

XXVI.

Still stood that page, as far apart

As the small cell would space afford; With dizzy eye and bursting heart,

He leant his weight on Bruce's sword,
The monarch's mantle too he bore,
And drew the fold his visage o'er.
"Fear not for him-in murderous strife,"
Said Bruce, "his warning saved my life;T
Full seldom parts he from my side,
And in his silence I confide,
Since he can tell no tale again.
He is a boy of gentle strain,

And I have purposed he shall dwell
In Augustin the chaplain's cell,
And wait on thee, my Isabel.-

Mind not his tears; I've seen them flow,
As in the thaw dissolves the snow.
'Tis a kind youth, but fanciful,
Unfit against the tide to pull,
And those that with the Bruce would sail,
Must learn to strive with stream and gale.-
But forward, gentle Isabel-

My answer for Lord Ronald tell."

XXVII.

"This answer be to Ronald given-
The heart he asks is fix'd on heaven.**
My love was like a summer flower,
That wither'd in the wintry hour,
Born but of vanity and pride,
And with these sunny visions died.
If further press his suit-then say,
He should his plighted troth obey,
Troth plighted both with ring and word,
And sworn on crucifix and sword.-
Oh, shame thee, Robert! I have seen
Thou hast a woman's guardian been!
Even in extremity's dread hour,

When press'd on thee the Southern power
And safety, to all human sight,

Was only found in rapid flight,

nessed, should have been so uniformly passed unregarded by. Such is the simile applied to the transient blush observed by Bruce on the countenance of Isabel upon his mention of Ronald." -British Critic.]

I [MS." And well I judge that Knight unknown."]

[M8.-"But that his { earlier plight forbade."]

former

IMS.-"The monarch's brand and cloak he bore."] TMS." Answered the Bruce, he saved my life.'"] ** The MS. has--

"Isabel's thoughts are fix'd on heaven;" and the two couplets which follow are interpolated on the blank