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ONE thing is certain in our Northern land,
Allow that birth or valor, wealth or wit,
Give each precedence to their possessor,
Envy, that follows on such eminence

As comes the lyme-hound on the roebuck's

trace,

Shall pull them down each one.
Sir David Lindsay.

You talk of Gayety and Innocence !
The moment when the fatal fruit was eaten,
They parted ne'er to meet again; and Malice
Has ever since been playmate to light Gayety
From the first moment when the smiling in-
fant

Destroys the flower or butterfly he toys with,
To the last chuckle of the dying miser,
Who on his death-bed laughs his last to hear
His wealthy neighbor has become a bankrupt.
Old Play.

'Tis not her sense - for sure, in that
There's nothing more than common;
And all her wit is only chat,

Like any other woman.

Song.

WERE every hair upon his head a life,
And every life were to be supplicated
By numbers equal to those hairs quadrupled,
Life after life should out like waning stars
Before the daybreak - or as festive lamps,
Which have lent lustre to the midnight revel,
Each after each are quenched when guests
depart.
Old Play.

MUST we then sheath our still victorious sword;
Turn back our forward step, which ever trode
O'er foemen's necks the onward path of glory;
Unclasp the mail, which with a solemn vow
In God's own house we hung upon our shoul-
ders;

That vow, as unaccomplished as the promise Which village nurses make to still their children,

And after think no more of?

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From Anne of Geierstein

CURSED be the gold and silver which persuade
Weak man to follow far fatiguing trade.
The lily, peace, outshines the silver store,
And life is dearer than the golden ore.
Yet money tempts us o'er the desert brown
To every distant mart and wealthy town.
Hassan, or the Camel-Driver.
I WAS one

Who loved the greenwood bank and lowing herd,

The russet prize, the lowly peasant's life, Seasoned with sweet content, more than the halls

Where revellers feast to fever-height. Believe

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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.

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

Page 5. THE WILD HUNTSMAN.

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

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