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To ache no more ;
An unsubstantial pageant all
Drop o'er the scene the funeral pall.

Old Poem.

WE know not when we sleep nor when we wake.
Visions distinct and perfect cross our eye,
Which to the slumberer seem realities;
And while they waked, some men have seen

such sights As set at naught the evidence of sense, And left them well persuaded they were dreaming.


HERE 'S a weapon now Shall shake a conquering general in his tent, A monarch on his throne, or reach a prelate, However holy be his offices, E'en while he serves the altar.

Old Play.

every ele

THESE be the adept's doctrines

ment Is peopled with its separate race of spirits. The airy Sylphs on the blue ether float; Deep in the earthy cavern skulks the Gnome ; The sea-green Naiad skims the ocean-billow, And the fierce fire is yet a friendly home To its peculiar sprite — the Salamander.

Anonymous. UPON the Rhine, upon the Rhine they cluster,

The grapes of juice divine, Which make the soldier's jovial courage mus

ter; "O, blessed be the Rhine !

Drinking Song. TELL me not of it - I could ne'er abide The mummery of all that forced civility. * Pray, seat you rself, my lord.' With cringing The speech is spoken, and with bended knee Heard by the smiling courtier. — * Before you,

sir ? It must be on the earth, then.' Hang it all! The pride which cloaks itself in such poor fashion Is scarcely fit to swell a beggar's bosom.

Old Play. A MIRTHFUL man he was — - the snows of age Fell, but they did not chill him. Gayety, Even in life's closing, touched his teeming brain With such wild visions as the setting sun Raises in front of some hoar glacier, Painting the bleak ice with a thousand hues.

Old Play.

From Count Robert of Paris Othus.

This superb successor Of the earth's mistress, as thou vainly speakest, Stands midst these ages as, on the wide ocean, The last spared fragment of a spacious land, That in some grand and awful ministration Of mighty nature has engulfed been, Doth lift aloft its dark and rocky cliffs O'er the wild waste around, and sadly frowns In lonely majesty.

Constantine Paleologus, Scene 1.
HERE, youth, thy foot unbrace,

Here, youth, thy brow unbraid,
Each tribute that may grace

The threshold here be paid.
Walk with the stealthy pace

Which Nature teaches deer,
When, echoing in the chase,
The hunter's horn they hear.

The Court.


THE storm increases 't is no sunny shower, Fostered in the moist breast of March or April, Or such as parched Summer cools his lip with ; Heaven's windows are flung wide; the inmost

deeps Call in hoarse greeting one upon another; On comes the flood in all its foaming horrors, And where's the dike shall stop it!

The Deluge, a Poem.

VAIN man ! thou mayst esteem thy love as fair
As fond hyperboles suffice to raise.
She may be all that 's matchless in her person,
And all-divine in soul to match her body ;
But take this from me - thou shalt never call

Superior to her sex while one survives
And I am her true votary.

Old Play.

Ay, this is he who wears the wreath of bays
Wove by Apollo and the Sisters Nine,
Which Jove's dread lightning scathes not. He

hath doft
The cumbrous helm of steel, and flung aside
The yet more galling diadem of gold;
While, with a leafy circlet round his brows,
He reigns the King of Lovers and of Poets.

WANT you a man Experienced in the world and its affairs ? Here he is for your purpose. - He's a monk. He hath forsworn the world and all its work – The rather that he knows it passing well, Special the worst of it, for he's a monk.

Old Play.

THROUGH the vain webs which puzzle sophists'

skill, Plain sense and honest meaning work their

way ; So sink the varying clouds upon the hill When the clear dawning brightens into day.

Dr. Watts.

TOLL, toll the bell ! GI atness is o'er, The heart has broke,

BETWEEN the foaming jaws of the white tor

rent The skilful artist draws a sudden mound;

From Castle Dangerous

By level long he subdivides their strength,
Stealing the waters from their rocky bed,
First to diminish what he means to conquer ;
Then, for the residue he forms a road,
Easy to keep, and painful to desert,
And guiding to the end the planner aimed at.

The Engineer.

A TALE of sorrow, for your eyes may weep; A tale of horror, for your flesh may tiagle; A tale of wonder, for the eyebrows arch, And the flesh curdles if you read it rightly.

Old Play.

THESE were wild times -- the antipodes of ours:
Ladies were there who oftener saw themselves
In the broad lustre of a foeman's shield
Than in a mirror, and who rather sought
To match themselves in battle than in dalliance
To meet a lover's onset. — But though Nature
Was outraged thus, she was not overcome.

Feudal Times.

WITHOUT a ruin, broken, tangled, cumbrous,
Within it was a little paradise,
Where Taste had made her dwelling. Statuary,
First-born of human art, moulded her images
And bade men mark and worship.


THE parties met. The wily, wordy Greek, Weighing each word, and canvassing each syl

lable, Evading, arguing, equivocating. And the stern Frank came with his two-hand

sword, Watching to see which way the balance sways, That he may throw it in and turn the scales.


WHERE is he? Has the deep earth swallowed

him ? Or hath he melted like some airy phantom That shuns the approach of morn and the young

sun ? Or hath he wrapt him in Cimmerian darkness, And passed beyond the circuit of the sight With things of the night's shadows ?

Anonymous. The way is long, my children, long and rough The moors are dreary and the woods are dark; But he that creeps from cradle on to grave, Unskilled save in the velvet course of fortune, Hath missed the discipline of noble hearts.

Old Play. His talk was of another world — his bodements Strange, doubtful, and mysterious; those who

heard him Listened as to a man in feverish dreams, Who speaks of other objects than the present, And mutters like to him who sees a vision.

Old Play. CRY the wild war-note, let the champions pass, Do bravely each, and God defend the right; Upon Saint Andrew thrice can they thus cry, And thrice they shout on height, And then marked them on the Englishmen, As I have told you right. Saint George the bright, our ladies' knight, To name they were full fain; Our Englishmen they cried on height, And thrice they shout again.

Old Ballad.

STRANGE ape of man who loathes thee while

he scorns thee; Half a reproach to us and half a jest. What fancies can be ours ere we have pleasure In viewing our own form, our pride and passions, Reflected in a shape grotesque as thine !


'Tis strange that in the dark sulphureous mine
Where wild ambition piles its ripening stores
Of slumbering thunder, Love will interpose
His tiny torch, and cause the stern explosion
To burst when the deviser's least aware.

Anonymous. ALL is prepared – the chambers of the mine Are crammed with the combustible, which,

harmless While yet unkindled as the sable sand, Needs but a spark to change its nature so That he who wakes it from its slumbrous mood Dreads scarce the explosion less than he who

knows That 't is his towers which meet its fury.

Anonymous. HEAVEN knows its time; the bullet has its

billet, Arrow and javelin each its destined purpose ; The fated beasts of Nature's lower strain Have each their separate task.

Old Play.


[These notes, except when enclosed in brackets, are from editions prepared or supervised by Scott.]


The tradition upon which it is founded bears, that formerly a Wildgrave, or keeper of a royal forest, named Faulkenburg, was so much addicted to the pleasures of the chase, and otherwise so extremely profligate and cruel, that he not only followed this unhallowed amusement on the Sabbath, and other days consecrated to religious duty, but accompanied it with the most unheard-of oppression upon the poor peasants, who were under his vassalage. When this second Nimrod died, the people adopted a superstition, founded probably on the many va

heard more. The reader will find this, and other miracles, recorded in the life of Father Bonaventura, which is written in the choicesy Italian.

rious uncouth sounds heard in the depth of a German forest, during the silence of the night. They conceived they still heard the cry of the Wildgrave's hounds; and the well-known cheer of the deceased hunter, the sounds of his horses' feet, and the rustling of the branches before the game, the pack, and the sportsmen, are also distinctly discriminated; but the phantoms are rarely, if ever, visible. Once, as a benighted Chasseur heard this infernal chase pass by him, at the sound of the halloo, with which the Spectre Huntsman cheered his hounds, he could not refrain from crying, Gluck zu Falkenburgh!' (Good sport toye, Falkenburgh!) “Dost thou wish me good sport?' answered a hoarse voice ; thou shalt share the game ;' and there was thrown at him what seemed to be a huge piece of foul carrion. The daring Chasseur lost two of his best horses soon after, and never perfectly recovered the personal effects of this ghostly greeting. This tale, though told with some variations, is universally believed all over Germany.

The French had a similar tradition concerning an aërial hunter who infested the forest of Fontainebleau. He was sometimes visible when he appeared as a huntsman, surrounded with dogs, a tall grisly figure. Some account of him may be found in Sully's Memoirs, who says he was called Le Grand Veneur. At one time he chose to hunt so near the palace, that the attendants, and, if I mistake not, Sully himself, came out into the court, supposing it was the sound of the king returning from the chase. This phantom is elsewhere called St. Hubert.

The superstition seems to have been very general, as appears from the following fine poetical description of this phantom chase, as it was heard in the wilds of Ross-shire:

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Page 9, line 16. Oh! had they marked the avenging call.

The allusion is to the massacre of the Swiss Guards on the fatal 10th August, 1792. It is painful, but not useless, to remark, that the passive temper with which the Swiss regarded the death of their bravest countrymen, mercilessly slaughtered in discharge of their duty, encouraged and authorized the progressive injustice, by which the Alps, once the seat of the most virtuous and free people upon the continent, have, at length, been converted into the citadel of a foreign and military despot. A state degraded is half enslaved. [Written in 1812.]


Page 11, line 13. How blazed Lord Ronald's beltane-tree.

The fires lighted by the Highlanders, on the first of May, in compliance with a custom derived from the Pagan times, are termed The Beltane-tree. It is a festival celebrated with various superstitious rites, both in the north of Scotland and in Wales.

Page 12, line 26. The seer's prophetic spirit found.

I can only describe the second sight, by adopting Dr. Johnson's definition, who calls it

an impression, either by the mind upon the eye, or by the eye upon the mind, by which things distant and future are perceived and seen as if they were present.' To which I would only add, that the spectral appearances, thus presented, usually presage misfortune; that the faculty is painful to those who suppose they possess it; and that they usually acquire it while themselves under the pressure of melancholy.

Line 87. Will good Saint Oran's rule prevail ?

St. Oran was a friend and follower of St. Columba, and was buried at Icolmkill. His pretensions to be a saint were rather dubious. According to the legend, he consented to be buried alive, in order to propitiate certain demons of the soil, who obstructed the attempts of Columba to build a chapel. Columba caused the body of his friend to be dug up, after three days had elapsed ; when Oran, to the horror and scandal of the assistants, declared that there was neither a God, a judgment, nor a future state! He had no time to make further discoveries, for Columba caused the earth once more to be shovelled over him with the utmost despatch. The chapel, however, and the cemetery, was called Relig Ouran; and, in memory of his rigid celibacy, no female was permitted to pay her devotions or be buried in that place. This is the rule alluded to in the poem.

Page 14, line 218. And thrice Saint Fillan's powerful prayer.

St. Fillan has given his name to many chap

"Ere since of old, the haughty thanes of Ross -
So to the simple swain tradition tells
Were wont with clans, and ready vassals thronged,
To wake the bounding stag, or guilty wolf,
There oft is heard, at midnight, or at noon,
Beginning faint, but rising still more loud,
And nearer, voice of hunters, and of hounds,
And horns, hoarse winded, blowing far and keen :-
Forthwith the hubbub multiplies; the gale
Labors with wilder shrieks, and rifer din
Of hot pursuit; the broken cry of deer
Mangled by throttling dogs; the shouts of men,
And hoofs, thick beating on the hollow hill.
Sudden the grazing heifer in the vale
Starts at the noise, and both the herdsman's ears
Tingle with inward dread. Aghast, he eyes
The mountain's height, and all the ridges round,
Yet not one trace of living wight discerns,
Nor knows, o'erawed, and trembling as he stands,
To what, or whom, he owes his idle fear,
To ghost, to witch, to fairy, or to fiend ;
But wonders, and no end of wondering finds.'
Albania - reprinted in Scottish Descriptive Poems,

pp. 167, 168. A posthumous miracle of Father Lesley, a Scottish capuchin, related to his being buried on a hill haunted by these unearthly cries of hounds and huntsmen. After his sainted relics had been deposited there, the noise was never,

els, holy fountains, etc., in Scotland. He was, according to Camerarius, an Abbot of Pittenweem, in Fife ; from which situation he retired, and died a hermit in the wilds of Glenurchy, A. D. 649. While engaged in transcribing the Scriptures, his left hand was observed to send forth such a splendor as to afford light to that with which he wrote, - a miracle which saved many candles to the convent, as St. Fillan used to spend whole nights in that exercise. The 9th of January was dedicated to this saint, who gave his name to Kilfillan, in Renfrew, and St. Phillans, or Forgend, in Fife.


Page 14, line 1. The Baron of Smaylho' me rose with day.

Smaylholme or Smallholm Tower, the scene of the ballad, is situated on the northern boundary of Roxburghshire, aniong a cluster of wild rocks, called Sandiknow-Crags, the property of Hugh Scott, Esq., of Harden. (It was at the farmhouse of Sandy-Knowe, one is glad to remember, that Scott spent his earliest boyhood, with his paternal grandfather, as recorded by him in his autobiographic sketch.] The tower is a high square building, surrounded by an outer wall, now ruinous. The circuit of the outer court, being defended on three sides by a precipice and morass, is accessible only from the west, by a steep and rocky path. The apartments, as is usual in a Border keep, or fortress, are placed one above another, and communicate by a narrow stair ; on the roof are two bartizans, or platforms, for defence or pleasure. The inner door of the tower is wood, the outer an iron gate ; the distance between them being nine feet, the thickness, namely, of the wall. From the elevated situation of Smaylholme Tower, it is seen many miles in every direction. Among the crags by which it is surrounded, one, more eminent, is called the Watchfold, and is said to have been the station of a beacon, in the times of war with England. Without the tower-court is a ruined chapel. Brotherstone is a heath, in the neighborhood of Smaylholme Tower. Page 15, lines 17, 18.

He came not from where Ancram Moor

Ran red with English blood. [Sir Ralph Evers and Sir Brian Laboun, during the year 1544, committed heavy ravages upon the Scottish border. For this Sir Ralph was made a Lord of Parliament and the next year the two reëntered Scotland with a larger army and repeated their bloody work. As they returned toward Jedburgh they were followed by the Earl of Angus at the head of a thousand horse, who was shortly after joined by the famous Norman Lesley, with a body of Fife-men. A fierce battle ensued on Ancram_Moor, in which Lord Evers and his son Sir Brian and 800 Englishmen were slain, and a thousand prisoners were taken.]

Page 16, line 79. So, by the black rood-stone and by holy Saint John.

The black rood of Melrose was a crucifix of black marble, and of superior sanctity.

Line 108. All under the Eildon-tree.

Eildon is a high hill, terminating in three conical summits, immediately above the town of Melrose, where are the admired ruins of a magnificent monastery. Eildon-tree is said to be the spot where Thomas the Rhymer uttered his prophecies. See also note, p. 513.

Page 17, line 193. That nun who ne'er beholds the day.

The circumstance of the nun who never saw the day,' is not entirely imaginary. About fifty years ago, an unfortunate female wanderer took up her residence in a dark vault, among the ruins of Dryburgh Abbey, which, during the day, she never quitted. When night fell, she issued from this miserable habitation, and went to the house of Mr. Haliburton of Newmains, the Editor's great-grandfather, or to that of Mr. Erskine of Sheilfield, two gentlemen of the neighborhood. From their charity she obtained such necessaries as she could be prevailed upon to accept. At twelve, each night, she lighted her candle, and returned to her vault, assuring her friendly neighbors that during her absence her habitation was arranged by a spirit, to whom she gave the uncouth name of Fatlips ; describing him as a little man, wearing heavy iron shoes, with which he trampled the clay floor of the vault, to dispel the damps. This circumstance caused her to be regarded, by the well-informed, with compassion, as deranged in her understanding ; and by the vulgar, with some degree of terror. The cause of her adopting this extraordinary mode of life she would never explain. It was, however, believed to have been occasioned by a vow that during the absence of a man to whom she was attached, she would never look upon the sun.

Her lover never returned. He fell during the civil war of 1745–46, and she nevermore would behold the light of day.

The vault, or rather dungeon, in which this unfortunate woman lived and died, passes still by the name of the supernatural being with which its gloom was tenanted by her disturbed imagination, and few of the neighboring peasants dare enter it by night.

Page 18, lines 17, 18.

The breath of one of evil deed

Pollutes our sacred day. The scene with which the ballad opens, was suggested by the following curious passage, extracted from the Life of Alexander Peden, one of the wandering and persecuted teachers of the sect of Cameronians, during the reign of Charles II. and his successor, James. This person was supposed by his followers, and, perhaps, really believed himself, to be possessed of supernatural gifts ; for the wild scenes which they frequented, and the constant dangers which were incurred through their proscription, deepened upon their minds the gloom of superstition, so general in that age.

* About the same time he [Peden) came to well as of the most romantic and beautiful Andrew Normand's house, in the parish of scenery. Alloway, in the shire of Ayr, being to preach at night in his barn. After he came in, he Page 26. CADYOW CASTLE. halted a little, leaning upon a chair-back, with The ruins of Cadyow, or Cadzow Castle, the his face covered; when he lifted up his head ancient baronial residence of the family of he said, “They are in this house that I have Hamilton, are situated upon the precipitous not one word of salvation unto ; " he halted a banks of the river Evan, about two miles above little again, saying, “ This is strange, that the its junction with the Clyde. It was dismantled, devil will not go out, that we may begin our in the conclusion of the Civil Wars, during the work!" Then there was a woman went out, reign of the unfortunate Mary, to whose cause ill-looked upon almost all her life, and to her the house of Hamilton devoted themselves with dying hour, for a witch, with many presump a generous zeal, which occasioned their temtions of the same. It escaped me, in the former porary obscurity, and, very nearly, their total passages, what John Muirhead (whom I have ruin. The situation of the ruins, embosomed often mentioned) told me, that when he came in wood, darkened by ivy and creeping shrubs, from Ireland to Galloway, he was at family and overhanging the brawling torrent, is romanworship, and giving some notes upon the Scrip tic in the highest degree. In the immediate ture read, when a very ill-looking man came, vicinity of Cadyow is a grove of immense oaks, and sat down within the door, at the back of the remains of the Caledonian Forest, which the hallan (partition of the cottage): immedi anciently extended through the south of Scotately he halted and said, “There is some un land, from the eastern to the Atlantic Ocean. happy body just now come into this house. I Some of these trees measure twenty-five feet, charge him to go out, and not stop my mouth! and upwards, in circumference; and the state This person went out, and he insisted (went on), of decay in which they now appear shows that yet he saw him neither come in nor go out. they have witnessed the rites of the Druids.

Page 18, line 66. By blast of bugle free. The whole scenery is included in the magnifi

The barony of Pennycuick, the property of cent and extensive park of the Duke of HamilSir George Clerk, Bart., is held by a singular ton. There was long preserved in this forest tenure; the proprietor being bound to sit upon the breed of the Scottish wild cattle, until their a large rocky fragment, called the Buckstane, ferocity occasioned their being extirpated, about and wind three blasts of a horn, when the king forty years ago. Their appearance was beautishall come to hunt on the Borough Muir, near ful, being milk-white, with black muzzles, Edinburgh. Hence, the family have adopted, horns, and hoofs. The bulls are described by as their crest, a demi-forester proper, winding ancient authors as having white manes; but a horn, with the motto, Free for a Blast, those of latter days had lost that peculiarity,

Line 67. To Auchendinny's hazel glade. perhaps by intermixture with the tame breed.

(Auchendinny, situated upon the Eske, be In detailing the death of the Regent Murray, low Pennycuick, when Scott wrote, was the which is made the subject of the

ballad, it would residence of H. Mackenzie, author of the Man be injustice to my reader to use other words than of Feeling, fc.]

those of Dr. Robertson, whose account of that Line 70. And Roslin's rocky glen.

memorable event forms a beautiful piece of his- : [The rocky glen is less an object of interest torical painting. than the marvellous chapel with an elaborate * Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh was the person ness of sculptured story which to the modern who committed this barbarous action. He had tourist seems singularly unidiomatic in Scot been condemned to death soon after the battle land.]

of Langside, as we have already related, and Line 71. Dalkeith, which all the virtues love. owed his life to the Regent's clemency. But

[In Scott's time the place once belonging part of his estate had been bestowed upon one to the Earl of Morton, was endeared to him of the Regent's favorites (Sir James Bellenden, by being the residence of the family of Buc Lord Justice-Clerk), who seized his house and cleuch.)

turned out his wife, naked, in a cold night, into Line 72. And classic Hawthornden.

the open fields, where, before next morning, Hawthornden, the residence of the poet she became furiously mad. This injury made Drummond. A house, of more modern date, a deeper impression on him than the benefit he is enclosed, as it were, by the ruins of the an had received, and from that moment he vowed cient castle, and overhangs a tremendous preci to be revenged of the Regent. Party rage pice, upon the banks of the Eske, perforated by strengthened and inflamed his private resentwinding caves, which, in former times, were a ment. His kinsmen, the Hamiltons, applauded refuge to the oppressed patriots of Scotland. the enterprise. The maxims of that age justiHere Drummond received Ben Jonson, who fied the most desperate course he could take journeyed from London, on foot, in order to to obtain vengeance. He followed the Regent visit him.

for some time, and watched for an opportunity Upon the whole, tracing the Eske from its to strike the blow. He resolved at last to wait source, till it joins the sea at Musselburgh, no till his enemy should arrive at Linlithgow, stream in Scotland can boast such a varied through which he was to pass in his way from succession of the most interesting objects, as Stirling to Edinburgh. He took his stand in

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