HE TWA CORBIES. Of the several versions of this singular fragment we prefer that which occurs in the 66 Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." It was communicated to the editor by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, "as written down, from traditon, by a lady." "It is a singular circumstance," he observes, "that it should coincide so very nearly with the ancient dirge, called The Three Ravens,' published by Mr. Ritson, in his 'Ancient Songs;' and that, at the same time, there should exist such a difference as to make the one appear rather a counterpart than copy of the other. In order to enable the curious reader to contrast these two singular poems, and to form a judgment which may be the original, I take the liberty of copying the English ballad from Mr. Ritson's collection, omitting only the burden and repetition of the first line." The learned editor states it to be given "From Ravenscroft's Melismata.' Musical Phansies, fitting the Cittie and Country Humours, to 3, 4, and 5 Voyces," London, 1611, 4to. "It will be obvious," continues Mr. Ritson, "that this ballad is much older, not only than the date of the book, but most of the other pieces contained in it.

"There were three rauens sat on a tre,
They were as blacke as they might be :

"The one of them said to his make,

Where shall we our breakefast take?'

"Downie in yonder greene field,

There lies a knight slain under his shield:

"His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
So well they their master keepe;
"His haukes they fly so eagerlie,

There's no fowle dare come him nie.

"Down there comes a fallow doe,

As great with yong as she might goe.

"She lift up his bloudy hed,

And kist his wounds that were so red.

"She got him up upon her backe,

And carried him to earthen lake.

"She buried him before the prime,

She was dead her selfe ere euen song time.

"God send euery gentleman,

Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.'"

The moral of the two stories, it will be perceived, is very opposite. In the one, the dead knight is deserted by "his hawk, his hounds, and his lady fair;" in the other, they are described as constant and true, such as the poet prays may be sent to "every gentleman." Mr. Motherwell states that he has "met with several copies almost the same as in Ritson." His own version, however, is very different from either of those

printed by Ritson and Scott. It is, however, nearly the same as the one given by Allan Cunningham, and which is avowedly "made up from various readings and recitations." Nevertheless, it is a very touching and beautiful composition, although neither so powerful nor so effective as the less polished fragment given by Sir Walter Scott. We copy it entire :

"There were two ravens sat on a tree,

Large and black as black may be,

And one unto the other gan say,

Where shall we go and dine to-day?

Shall we go dine by the wild salt sea?

Shall we go dine 'neath the greenwood tree?

"As I sat on the deep sea sand,

I saw a fair ship nigh at land;

I waved my wings, I bent my beak,

The ship sank, and I heard a shriek;
There lie the sailors, one, two, three;
I shall dine by the wild salt sea.'

"Come, I will show ye a sweeter sight,
A lonesome glen and a new-slain knight;
His bleed yet on the grass is hot,

His sword half drawn, his shafts unshot,

And no one kens that he lies there,

But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild fowl hame,
His lady's away with another mate,
So we shall make our dinner sweet;
Our dinner's sure, our feasting free,
Come, and dine by the greenwood tree.
"Ye shall sit on his white hause-bane,
I will pick out his bonny blue een;
Ye'll take a tress of his yellow hair,
To theak yere nest when it grows bare;
The gowden down on his young chin
Will do to rowe my young ones in.

"O, cauld and bare will his bed be
When winter storms sing in the tree;
At his head a turf, at his feet a stone,
He will sleep nor hear the maiden's moan;
O'er his white bones the birds shall fly,
The wild deer bound and foxes cry.'"

James Hogg attempted an imitation of it, which he introduces by the following remarks, in allusion to Scott's version of the ballad. "It appears as if the bard had found his power of description inadequate to a detail of the circumstances attending the fatal catastrophe, without suffering the interest already roused to subside, and had artfully consigned it over to the fancy of every reader to paint it what way he chose; or else that he lamented the untimely fate of a knight, whose base treatment he durst not otherwise make known than in that short parabolical dialogue."

HE ballad of HENGIST AND MEY is the production of William Julius Mickle. Its merits are not of a high order; but it supplies an example of a class, popular for a time, which "came in" between the rugged Nature of the old and the over-refinement of the new. It professes to be an imitation of the ancient ballad; of the character of which, however, it partakes but little. The incident upon which it is founded is presumed to have grown out of the wars between the Britons and the Saxons; and the "Saxon story" supplied the author with the ground-work of another "heroic ballad," entitled "The Sorceress,"-these two being the principal compositions of the kind produced by the author. He was born in 1734, at Lang. holm in Dumfries-shire, where his father was minister. He was early "bound prentice to the Muse; " for although he entered into business as a brewer in Edinburgh, and "paid more duty to the excise than any other member of the trade," he had "written two tragedies and half an epic poem before he was eighteen," and was, of course, unsuccessful in his attempts to "gather gear." Having passed through various vicissitudes, he was at length patronised by a Governor Johnstone, who being appointed to the command of the Romney ship of war, named the poet as his secretary: in this capacity he visited Lisbon, where he obtained the lucrative post of prize-agent, and amassed a considerable sum of money. He died at Wheatley, in Oxfordshire, in 1789.

The poems of Mickle consist chiefly of short pieces, the longest being an imitation of Spenser. He is indebted for his fame, however, to his translation of "The Lusíad' of Camoens, the first part of which he published in 1771,-a work of no inconsiderable value, which continues to maintain some hold on the public mind. "Of the Lusiad," writes Dr. Anderson, "Mickle was not only the able translator, but a spirited advocate. He has very judiciously prefaced his translation with a copious and satisfactory introduction to the history of the Poem, and accompanied it with notes that were necessary to give it proper elucidation. The narrative is liberal and elegant, interspersed with many sensible observations and just political reflections." "His character as a poet," according to the same authority," ranks very high among his countrymen. His versification is undoubtedly very vigorous and manly; but certainly not equally remarkable for correctness." Of his personal character a contemporary writer in the European Magazine thus speaks:-"He was, in every point of view, a man of the utmost integrity, warm in his friendship, and indignant only against vice, irreligion, or meanness. During the greatest part of his life he endured the pressure of a narrow fortune without repining, never relaxing his exertions to acquire by

A writer, who printed in the European Magazine some account of the life of Mickle, relates a curious anecdote concerning the dedication of this work. Mickle selected as his patron the Duke of Buccleuch, who took no notice whatsoever of the compliment paid to him; received the copy without condescending to give any reply; and some months afterwards a friend of the author's ascertained that it had never been read by his Grace," to whom it had been represented not to have the merit it was at first said to possess."