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Scott owed much of the material, of hU 'Min^trelay of the ScottUh Border,' and not lea. of that intimate acquaintance with the hving manner, of thwe un»phi.ticated regiom^ which conatitute* Mie chief charm of one of the moet oharminfc- of hia proM work.. » (Lock- hart . Life.) He began to .tudy German ; the reanlto are ahown in the tean.lation from that language of u>me romantic baUad., and of Goethe'a Ooetz von Berlichingm, a dramatic picture of mediieval baronial life on the Khine. Theae were hi. tint publiahed venture, in literature. In 1797 Scott married, and thi. made the .uece«fnl proMcntianof hu profemon a matter of greater importance than before ; but hia heart waa not in hia barruter work, and hi. income from it waa neither Utfsa nor likely to increaw greatly. At the oIom of 1799, he gUdly accepted the office of .heriff-depute of Selkirkriiire, which waa obtained Itar hmi by the influence of the head of hi. clan, the Duke of Bucolenoh. Thia poat not only brought a unaU but auured income of £300 with very light dutie., but alao, what Scott prized greatly, gave him another connection with the Borders. He now threw hinuelf onthumaatieaUy into the preparation of a coUection of border baUada. Two volume* ai^eared in 1802, and were weU received. While engaged upon the ttud volume, he began an imiUtion of an old ballad romance— a work wbuhprovedM congenial to him that it developed into a long pom. •COTT'iI l.lfK ANI> WORK, vfl TV Lay of Ike Latt Mitutrtt. It wu puMiihed in January, 1805, ud h»d a (ucceu which bail never lieen eq--.!, ,d in the hiatury of Kngli»h poetry. It waa a poem at once of a n st novel, attraetive, and popular character. Ita reception deciiled k„*t literatura waa to be the main bniineaa of ita writcr'a bfe. At about ths aame time Scott entered into partnerabip with the Ballantynea in the printing buuncu, but thia partnenhip waa kept a profound accret. During the ten yean which followed the publication of the Lay, Scott wrote bii longer poema ; the moat important of theae wcrt Marmion (1S08) and The Lady of the Laie, 1810. "^'le large retuma which hie worlta brought him aa author and aa publiaher, encouraged him to become a landed proprietor. In 181 1 he made the firat purchaae of whiit by gradual additiona came to be the conaiderable eaUte of Abbotaforl, aituatcd in the midat of bia favourite border country. He found the ke.jMi. pleaaure in realizing here a "romance in brick and mortar," in planting trcea, and in all the dutiea and pleaaurca of a country gentleman. It waa bia dream to found a family, and to hand down an entailed -atate to remote poaterity. In 1813 the Balhtntyne firm •» ere greatly embarraaaed, but weathered the atorm by the aasiatance of the publiaher Conatable. Meantime, when the need of money waa becoming more preaaing, Scott'a ivnuhirity aa a poet WM on the decline ; hia later worka were not e worked hiirder or accompluhed more, and no man in hi. leUur. hour, threw hinuelf with more hearty zeat into hi. amuMment.. A vi.itor to Abbotoford in 1823 thu. r«»rd. hi. impr««ion. : " I had J«n Sir WJter Scott, bnt,ne,er met him in »oi.ty beforethUyi.it. He received me with JI hi. weU-known cordiality and «mplicity of mmner. . . . I haTi.ince been prewnt at hi. flnt reception of n»ny vwiton, and upon .uch occiona, aa indeed upon every other, I never •aw a man who, m hi. intercourw with aU penon., wa. m perfect. m»terof conrtcy. Hi. manner, were » pUia «,d natural, wd hi. kmdne» took .uch immediate poMe«ion of th. feelin.., that thi. exceUenoeinhun might for. whUep«,nnob«rved. . . . Hi. air and -pect, at the moment of . tir,t introduction, were placid, modeat. «id for hi, time of life, venerable. Occionally, when he .tood . lita. on ceremony, he threw Into hi. addreM . deferential tone, which had in it .omething of old.fa.hioned poUteneM, and becami hm. extremely well. A point of hcpitaUty in which Sir Walter Scott never faded, whatever might be the pretentiona of th. gue.t^ WM to do the honour, of oonve.-«tion. When . .tranger arrived, he aeemed to oon.ider .t a. much . duty to offer him the re«nrce. of hi. mind « tho«, of h» table j taking care, however, by.hi. choice of .nb- jecta, to give the viaitor u opportunity of making hi. own .tore., if he J«dthem,.v«]able. . . . It would be extremely difficult to give . juatideaof hia general coavertttion to any one who had not known mm. Comndermg hi. great penronal and Uterary popularity, and the wide cu^le m which he had lived, it i. perhap. reniarLble ^t .o few Of hi. Mymg,, real or imputed, are in circulation. But he did not •ffect wying., tho point, and Mutentiou. turn., which are .o ea.Uy caught up and tranamitted, were not natural to him j though he occ*. .lonallyeipreMed a thought very prettily and neatly. . . But the gr«toh«mof hi. ' table-talk -WM in the .weetneM «d aWo. with •COTTH UrK AND WORK. ix which it fl>>W(d,— ilw>yi, howeTer, guiilml hy good unie and Kood tMle i the wann sad unstudied eloquence with which he expreMcd rather HntimeiiU than opinione i and the livclineH and force with which ha narrated and deecribed j and all he apoke derivefl ao much of ita affect from iDdeflnaMe felicitici of manner, look, and tone— aoil aometimea from the choice of apparently inaignifiiant wordi— thnt a moderately faithful tranicript of hia aentencea would lie hut a fainji image of hia oonreraation. . . . Not only waa he incxhauitible in anecdote, but he loved to exert the talent of dramatizing, and in uma measure representing in his own person the incidents he told of, or the situations he imagined. . . . Nonne who has seen him can forget the •urpriaing power of change which his countenance showed when awak- ened from a state of compoaure. In 1823, when I first knew him, the hair on hia forehead waa quite grey, but hia face, which waa healthy and sanguine, and the hair about it, which had still > itrong rvddiah tinge, contraated, rather than harmonized with the al> , silvery locka above ; a contrast which might seem rather suited to a jovial and hum- orous, than to a pathetio expreasion. But his features wera eqi<.ally capable of both. The form and hne of hia eyea were wonderfully cal> cuUted for showing great varieties of emotion. Their mournful aspect waa extremely earnest and affecting 5 and, when he told soma dismal and mysterious story, they hod a doubtful, melancholy, exploring look, which appealed irresistibly to the hearer's imagination. Occasionally, when he spoke of something very audacious or eccentric, they would dilate and light up with a tragic-comic, harebrained expression, quite peculiar to himself. Never, perhaps, did a man go through all the gradationa of laughter with auch complete enjoyment, and a coun- tenance a<> radiant The first dawn of a luminous thought would show itself sometimes, aa he sat ailent, by an mvolunUry lengthening of the upper lip, foUowed by a shy aide-long gknce at his neighbours, indescribably whimsical, and seeming to ask from their looks whether the apark of drollery should be suppressed or allowed to blaze out. In the full tide of mirth, he did indeed 'laugh the heart's Uugh,' like Walpole, but it waa not boisteroua and overpowering, nor did it check the course of hia words." To these notes we may add aome of Lock- harf s in regard to a little expedition which Sir Walter and he made in the same year (1823) to the upper regiona of the Tweed and Clyde. "Nothing could induce him to remain in the carriage when we approached any celebrated edifice. If he had never seen it before, hia cariosity was like that of an eager stripling ; if he had examined it fifty times, he must renew hia familiarity, and gratify the tondemeas id niTBODOOriOK. gratefnl «min«oe»o«. WM. on th. r<»d hi. oonTW«.tion i>.v» flagged-rtopyr.gge.ted.tory. „d UlUd came upon SfiTen^III .uoc«„,on^ Bntwh.t .truck me «.o.t w« the .p^renTtLvoZI g«.p of h« memoir. That he Aonld recollect i^ery.~of^ :^TJ^:\'^"'""""^'^ *^' Wonceex^t:^^!^^ •tion could no longer .urp™ me ; but it «emed M if he rem^^ eveorthmg without exception, «, it were in «>ything like ttTriZT^ Terw, that he h«d ever read. " ^^ ^^ "' ' Scott', relation, with hi. fellow-men were of the mort senial ohara^t- «Tn,:t^rrT''r**"'" feuow^ture., fHoSz^:^ M mstmcbye fondne« for him. «,d he lived ahaost on temuTwJrJ the attachment of hi. own .enrant, «,d of the pe.«nZ oTTi, Z^2 He gave even too much k of b«.in.«Tmty intte av«^ member, of the firm. I.,.tead of Uking advantaae of hL^mntrS!^ -thim^llP.^.utelytowoPktowolthi.i^':::!""'^-^^ ■OOTT'g LIFE AND WORK. xi l^yle of liring «u reduced to the most modest expenditure ; hia habita of life were changed that he might devote himself unremittingly to hit great task. In two years, between January 1826 and January 1828 he earned nearly £40,000 for hi. creditcnu By the cIom of 1830 he had Jewened the indebtednew of Ballantyne & Co. by £03,000, and had his health been oontinned a few yean longer, he would doubUess have acoompltthed his undertaking. But before he was fifty, his oonstitu- hon had already given signs of being seriously impaired, doubtlew the result of too continuous application; in 1819 his life had been for a tmie m danger, and from this date he was physically an old man. It was inevitable that the prodigious exertions which he put forth after the bankruptcy should tell upon his strength. There were besides worry and nervous tension of various kinds. His wife died ; sadness and sorrow in various forma gathered about him. Symptoms of paralysis became apparent; his mind, as he himself 'elt, no longer worked in the old fashion. "I have suffered terribly, that It the truth," he writes in hU diary, May 1831, "rather in body than m mind, and I often wish I could lie down and sleep without waking But 1 will fight it out if I can." As the disease of the brain maile pr^iress he was seised with the happy fllusion that he had paid all hit debts. After an unsuccessful attempt to improve his health by a ''aI^.*°^^' •"* "*""«'». *» ^^ Sept 2l8t, 1832, in hi. own Abbotsford, amidst the scenes which he knew and loved so well. In 1847, the object he so manfully struggled for was attained. From the proceeds of his works, his life insurance, and the copyright of hi. Li/e which his biographer and son-in-Uw, Lockhart, generously devoted to ■ this purpose, the debts were paid in full, and the estete of Abbotsford left free of incumbrance ; but hu ambition to found a fanuly was not iMlixed; the male line became extinct not many years after Sir Walter's death, and the estate of Abbotsford feU to a great grand- daughter— his only surviving descendant. It is impoasible within the limits of this brief sketch to give any adequate idea of Scotfs varied and active life, and of the many ways in which he came into oontact with men and things. But it is •nfticiently evident that he was no recluse like Wordsworth, that hi. temperament was not one which led him to think profoundly, to search out the mner meanings and le«i obvious aspects of things, or to brood over his own moods and feeUngs. He found happiness in activity and msocial life. Though a Uterary man, and, from childhood, a great i«d«,li« was not prone, »« bookish people often are^ to over-estimate "" INTHODUOTIOS. the importiBce of literature. He prided hinuelf first of all on being a ""'i— » citizen and a gentlenuui. Scott mingled with the world, looked upon it and wa« interested in it much as the ordinary man ; only his horizon was broader, his interest keener, and his sympathy wider. He cared no more than the average man for abstract generalizations or for scientific analysis. He liked what the multitude like, what appeals to eye and ear,— incidents, persons, the striking and unusual We have all a natural interest in men and their doings, an interest which is the bssis of the universal taste for gossip. And it is this panor- ama of human life— me3 and women and the movement of evento with which Homer and the ballad singers delighted their uusophisti- cated audiences. This is also the theme of Scott's works. They do not chiefiy represent the writer's reflections, his feelings, or his moods ; but they picture the spectacle of life as seen from the outside with a breadth and vivacity unsurpassed in our literature except by Shakespeare alone. The particular Und of life and character which Scott presorts, i* determined by his tastes and temperament. The interest in the past was extraordinarily strong in Scott He was an antiquarian before he thought of being a poet. But he was not a pure antiquarian. He was not stimulated to the study of antiquity merely by the desire of truth. His interest was based on feeling,— on the feeling for kin, for example, so strongly developed in the typical Scotch character, and on the love of country. From the antiquarian he difiered in another way,— in a way which showed that he was really first of all a poet He desired his antiquarian facts, not for their own sake, but as elements out of which his imagination might picturesquely reconstruct the life of past generations. In Waverhy, Scott himself clearly indicates the distinction here emphasized. Comparing Waverley'g interest in the past with the Baron of Bradwardine's, he writes: "The Baron, indeed, only cumbered his memory with matters of fact ; the cold, hard, dry outlines which history delineates. Edward, on the contrary, loved to fill up and round the sketch with the colouring of a warm and vivid imagination, which gives light and life to the actors and speakers in the drama of past ages." It was with the past and more particuUrly with the past of his own country, that Scott's imagination delighted to busy itself. Since this sort of theme had been neglected in the classical 1 8th century period, and had been but feebly treated by such recent writers as Mis. Raddiffe, Scott had,— a very important matter for a writer— a fresh and novel field. To this domain Us navels and poems mainly beksig. SCOTT S LiKE ANU WORK. When we speak of lui historic novel or poem, we naturally think, fint of all, of one which treats of a period reB.ote from the writer. It will be noted, however, that some of Scott's very besh novels treat of periods scarcely more remote than, for example, certain of Geot^ge Eliot's, to which we would not think of applying the epithet his- toric. But to these novels of Soott, and to most of his novels, the epithet historic is applicable for a profounder reason than that they present the life of a remote time. History deals not merely with the past, but with the present ; but whether treating of present or past, it deals with wide movements, with what affects men in masaas, — not with the life of individualB except in as far as they influence the larger body. In this sense Scott's novels are historia They treat, doubtless, the fortunes of individuals, but nearly always as connected with some great movement of which the historian of the period would have to give an accoont — as, for example, Waverley, Old Mortolityt Bob Roy, In this respect he differs from the majority of novelists, — from his own great ooutemporary, Jane AuBten, from Fielding, and from Thackeray. "The most striking feature of Scott's romances," says Mr. Button, *' is that, for the most part, they are pivoted on public rather than mere private interests or passions. With but few exceptions — {The Antiquary, SL Jionan*8 Well, and Ouy Mannering are the most important) — Scott's novels give us an imaginative view, not of mere individuals, but of individuals as they are affected by the public strifes and social divisions of the age. And this it is which gives his books so large an interest for old and young, soldiers and statesmen, the world of society and the recluse, alike. You can hardly read any novel of Scott's and not become better aware what public life and political issues mean. .... The domestic novel when really of the highest kind, is no doubt a per- fect work of art, and an unfailing source of amusement ; but it has nothing of the tonic influence, the large instnictiveness, the stimulating intellectual air, of Scott's historic tales. Even when Scott is farthest from reality — as in Ivanhoe or 7%e Monastery— he makes you open your eyes to all sorts of historic conditions to which you would otherwise be blind." Scott's imagination was stimulated by the picturesque past, and from childhood onwardb, his main interests and favourite pursuits were such as stored his inventive mind with facts, scenes, legends, anecdotes which he might use in embodying this past in artistic forms. He wrote his novels with extraordinary rapidity, yet Goethe's exclamation, "What infinite dili g Mwe in pnparatoiy atudies/'ia amply justified. All this *"^ IKTBOUUCTION. fund of antiquriui knowledge afforded, however, only the ontaide girb -hich, if hie work was to have real worth, muat clothe real hanum nature, which ia the aame now aa it waa in the paat It ia thia power of representing hnman nature that makea hie worka tmly great ; and this homan nature he kamed from life aVit him. Hu best char, •oters, his Dandle Diomonta, and Edie Oohiltreea, hia Bailie Nichd Jarvis, hia James I., and EUzabeth, are great in virtue of their presentmg types of character which belong to aU time. It must foUow, then, that Scott could 'epiot men and women of hu own day, aa weU as of the paat ; and thia is tru^ only they must be men ard women of a striking and picturesque kind, each aa are apt to vanish amidst uniformity and conventions of modem society, bat snch aa Scott found in his rambles in isolated districts. "Scott needed a certun largeness of type, a strongly-marked class-life, and, where it waa pos- sible, a free, out-of-doors life, for hie delineations. No one could paint beggars and gypsies, and wandering fiddlers, and mercenary soldiers, and peasants and farmers, and lawyers, and magistrates, and preachera, and courtiers, and statesmen, and best of aU perhaps, queens and kings with anything like his ability. But when it came to desc-ibing the smaU differences of manner, differences not due to external habita, so much aa to internal sentiment or education, or mere domestic circum- stance, he was beyond his proper field." (Huvton's Scott.) Scott's genius was broad and vigorous, not intense, subtle and profound. If the common-place in life or character is to interest, it must be by the new light which profound insight, or subtle discrimination throwa upon them. 'Vhen we paas to the examination of Soott's style, we natnraUy find analogous peculiarities to those presented by his matter. The general effecta produced by his workmanship are exceUent; but when we examme minutely, when we dwell upon particuLtt passages or lines, we find it somewhat rough and ready. Thia defect is a much more serious one m poetry than in prose. The eUborste form of poetry leads na t expect some special feUcity or concentration of thought, a nicety in selection of words and imagery that would he superfluous in prose ; and these things we do find in the greatest poets. But it is only occasion- aUy in Scott that we stop to dwell on some line or phrase which seems absolutely the bt , for the purpose. We do not find in him "the magic use of words aa distinguished from the mere general effect of vigour, punty, and concentration of purpose." He affords extraordinarily few popolar quotations, especially considering the vogue that hia poemi I aCOTI 8 LlrX AHD WORK. rv jn» had. In this napeet he diffen markedly from Wordiworth. " I am aeuible," he himeelf layi, "that if there ii anything good about my poetry or prose either, it is a harried frankness of composition, which pleases soldiers, sailors, and yonug people of bold and active disposi- tions." Besides this pecnliarity, which is so injurious to his poetry, and scarcely affects his novels, Scott is inferior in his poems because they do not exhibit the full breadth of his genius. Many of his best scenes and chanicters are of a homely character which is not fitted for poetic exprassion. Shakespeare could not have adequately represented Fal- staff or Dogberry in a narrative poem. But if Scott's poetry has limitations and defects when compared with the work of his great contemporaries, or even with his own work in the sphere of prose, it possesses rare and conspicuous merits. These are set forth by Falgrave in a passage which may be quoted : " Scott's incom- pleteness of style, which is more injurioas to poetry than to prose, his 'careless glance and reckless rhyme,' hr.~ been alleged by a great writer of our time as one reason why he is now less popular as a poet than he was in his own day, when from two to three thousand copies of his metrical romances were freely sold. Beside these faults, which are visible almost everywhere, the charge that he wants depth and penetrative insight has been often brought. He does not ' wrestle with the mystery of existence,' it is said ; he does not try to solve the problems of human life, Scott, could he have foreseen this criticism, would probably noi have been very careful to answer it. He might have allowed its cor- rectness, and said that one man might have this work to do, but his was another. High and enduring pleasure, however conveyed, is the end of poetry. ' Othello ' gives this by its profound display of tragic passion ; 'Faradise Lost' gives it by its religious sublimity; 'Childe Harold'by its meditative picturesqueness ; the ' Lay ' by its brilliant delineation of ancient ]i>e and manners. These are but scanty samples of the vast range of poetry. In that house are many mansions. All poets may be ■eers and teachers ; but some teach directly, others by a less ostensible and Urger process. Scott never lays bare the workings of his mind, like Goethe or Shelley ; he does not draw out the moral of the landscape, like Wordsworth ; rather after the fashion of Homer and the writers of the ages before criticism, he presents a scene, and leaves it to work its own effect upon the reader. His most perfect and lovely poems, the short songs which occur scattered through the metrical or the prose narratives, are excellent instances. He is the most unselfconscious of our modem poets, perhaps of all our poets j the difference in this respect rri IMTROODOTIOir. 1 o^oront '^ %t' »f-t ^"'^--'" -•«'•• -'^e«n. nature, '"ter inU, oJi^^lZiTo^T'^"'"' "' "•«<'•"' «• H .^ned e™,„e„t ,ue»„ i„ „„, „, th"t «„ , """'""^ "» «""•«' Foetry.-siutained viVour cle.rn«. j ""^ ""■' difficult aim. n» r«ko„ „p eh, p^,. oS'w 1 7e 2t r™" '■" """•«- "we few(dr»™.t«u not included) have 1"1. k'^'^'''''' '^ «'«' '«'» ve™ ed u, e.ti„,ate Scotf. ™nk n h^.Tr*^ ^'^*^,""'' """^ "V >« henS the English poetry „f the fi,^t half rf The ""''^- ^™ '""k" th«ug^ hereand there indicted in kJ^Z:! ^:CT' V""' ""'^ " b" h.ra«f ,„to other, a. that of Ctt h'^"'""'""'''^ *hrow,ng excepted, paint emotion,. He painum™ ^ ™"tempo,«riea, Crabhf draw the moral, but he can ^- The, to ,t„ke a balance between men^l/h r"' /'*'"'" •» ■*"> »<• try picture of one could not be painte, I'tJ ,T *T '" '"'• '""' ^V i the rate m their kind ; and ev^ZdZ "'\°"'<''» I»'ette, alj are ii„t """ ''" "«"-• "«"■-'- -Zt iaXgXt " ^^'^ *"'"•" «'- THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL Gener.1 Poetic Condition, -The ,h u been marked by a pn^ferenrior^ne ' l"* "',*^ '*"• ^""'"y h«l and rationally accounted for- the n^ 1 ""*' ''•""'"'■e clearly vaguely .„rmi«3d waa overl^k^ Ti'"? "■' ""' "'^''-knom, and accompanied by a paraUel TZ, ^"'^'""^ '" "-onght C« ■"■ned at in the st^e h^th ", "^ '" '°™" *h.t waa ohiX elegance, and poliah Th ^"^ '"^ Poetry, was Tk. ' "ore espeowlly of Latin, literatn™ ZT- ^ ° " ""^ "=«« of clawical -d form. On the othe h»d t"; Itt "'"""'"^ " '""dreTT^St oon^mpt and the later write™ ^f E^Hr' -^ «8'"^ed :itb *" °' P't'-n-ang superiority. The W f "*° ^"^^ »'"• «" love of mysticism in medi»val oniBAL pocno coHomom. ZTii Utontnn,— of the iupernatural and inexplicable, its londnew (or mere adventure and pietnresqua detail, its lack of form, alienated the inter- eat of this lese simple age ; whilst the rationality, the worldlinees, and finished style of the Latin literature of the Augustan period were sources of attraction. Against the narrow rationalism which we have dewjribed, ther jet in an inevitable reaction j thought and art began to broaden in various directions. We may see, in the case of Wordsworth, how poetry became more comprehensive, and gathered into its sphere the persons and incidents of commonplace, and, what the 18th century would have called, low and vulgar, life. There was a broadening in other direction.s, for example, an awakening of interest in the past ; the first great historians appeared in English literature. Gibbon, Hume, and Robertson. The middle ages, especially, attracted by those very qualities in virtue of which they had formerly repelled. The quickened delight in the play of imagination and fancy, found endless food in mediseval literature and Gothic art ; and, in its exaggerated manifesta- tions, took a childish interest in ghost stories, in the horrible, in all that stimulated the feelings. In poetry, the new tendency turned from the abstract intellectual, or unromantic themes of the 18th century— from the Emay on Man, and the &»ay on Criticmn, from TIte Ru/te of he Lock, and from satire— to what appealecl to the eye and imagination, to the picturesque, to records of action and adventure. The new spirit signalized itself in many ways,— in the publication of Percy's Relique» of Ancient Poetry {1165), and of the Poenu o/0»gian, in the development of the historic novel, beginning with Horace Walpole's Castk of Otranto (1763), in the taste for Gothic architecture, and for natural landscape- gardening as opposed to the formal Dutch style. This tendency, as far as imaginative literature goes, culminated in the work of Scott ; and as we study the man and his circumstances, we see how temperament, antecedents, and surroundings all contributed tp make him the great exponent of the historic, romantic, and picturesque. In the first place, Scott himself grew up when this tendency was in the air, and when writers of inferior genius were making experiments in the direction which he was to follow. In the next place, he was a Scotchman ; and Scotland had preserved remnants of earlier social con- ditions longer than any other part of the United Kingdom. This was especially true of the Highlands ond the Borders : with the former, circumstances and tastes made Scott early familiar ; with the latter, he was connected by the closest ties. Again, the scenery of Scotland was fitted to nourish the romantic sentiment, for even nature has her x\'iii UrTRODUOnoif. romwtio «id her ola«ic Mpeot.. The fini.hed uid orderly .pDe.rmB« Uwtt ! ''"''»'"-'«' «""»'ry in . bright «,uth.„. 1^™^~" hkely to .harm the ta,t* that appreciate, the defimtcne« and perfeo«o" of clamio art. Whereas the wild and ruracd a»Deot of a W JT t.inou.«.u„t^,ike8cotUnd, the dark XZdel't":^.'^^; percved through the veil of mi,t, have the my.tery and .ugZw^e™ ^«.™ant.„.rt. Kven Edinburgh, with which, next to "Kir, ^Tn ^u '"'?.'" '*' '"^"''''»' ''••«"«t«ri.tic, pre^rved. in Scot", you h. Gothic and feudal element, beyond any other city in the i,Cd % family h.,t.,ry, too, Scott wa, linked with the hi,torio It He fn! . , .. , "' "' *'■"" ^'^" '*^^ •""• ""■"h to tell, wa, an ance,tor of h,,. •• I am therefore lineally de,.ende,l." he ^yl i"h'" autobiographic ,ke,=h. "f,c„ that ancient chiefui^. wh3kan.e I have made nng in many a ditty, and from hi, fair dame, thr^ower o Yarrow.-no bad genealogy for a Border minstrel " aJi'ZZl"lf'''' **"" ^™l' '"""''' '"■■ ""> «"^ time, an adequate and ,uitable poetic expre^ion for hi. pecuUar bent of geniu, hi, .™ciaJ feehng., i„tere.Uand knowledge. The general chai Jrf he^^' » «.ccmctly expUined in the Preface to the fir,t edition. ^ ,J^^f^' P™*««--"The Poem, now offered to the Public i. V..M on the Border, of England and Scotland. The inhabitant,, living ^i^wT^^ r*""" r** •""'y "•"""«• ""^ "'"■fining haW of ~n.t»t dep^da^on with the influence of a rude .pint of chiva ry Z^hfr "T**^;" x^no'highly ,u,ceptible of poetical ornament ^thortr"" K !r"T'""' -■'"«"™ "><>«' the object of the Au hor than a combined and regular narrative, the pUn of the Ancient r«pect than would be consistent with the dignity of a reguUr Poem IraTion' J "'^"-l,""- f-litie.. a. it ^rmit. an occaTr.! rtvtTmTn?^ -'«"e;wh,ch m some degree authorize, the change o would hlv. . The machinery al«,. adopted from popular belief would have ^med puerile in a Poem which did not partake of tb. rudeness of the old Ballad, or Metrical Romance. ■For these reasons the Poem was put into the mouth of an ancient Mmstrel. the last of the race. who. a. he i, supposed to hav: "urW™ the Revolution, might have caught somewhat of the refinemeni o moder. p«,try. without losing the simplicity of hi, origi,^ Tlf PMFAaATIOIl rOB THB LAT. Th* data of the T»lc itieU ii sbont (h« middle of the aixteenth oentnry, when moat of the penoiugee actually flouriihed. The time occupied by the action i« Throe NigbU and Throe Dayt." Prtpwitil" for the Poem.— No other of Scott's more ambitioua poemi came n directly from hie heart, or waa «o charaoteriatic of the man, aa the £ay. Thia ve can easily ondentand when we trace the giadnal development of ita theme and ita form in the poet's own mind. We have already noted Scott's descent from a famous Border family. He himself first woke to consciousness in the midst of Border scenes, at the farm of Sandy-Knowe, the residence of his paternal grandfather. "On the summit of the crags which overhang the farm-house stands the ruined tower of Smailholme ; and the view from thence Ukes in a wide expanse of the district in which, aa has b on truly said, every field has its battle, and every rivulet its song :— Mertoun, the principal seat of the Harden family, with its noble groves ; nearly in front of it, acroaa the Tweed, Lesudden, the comparatively small but still vener- able and stately abode of the Lairds of Raebum ; and the hoary Abbey of Dryburgh, surrounded with yew trees as ancient as itself, seem to lie almost below the feet of the spectator. Opposite him rise the purple peaks of Eildon, the traditioiuil scene of Thomas the Rymer's interview with the Queen of Faerie ; behind are the blasted peel which the seer of Eroeldoun himself inhabited, ' the Broom of the Cowdenknowes,' the pastoral valley of the Leadsr, and the bleak wilderness of Lammermoor. To the eastward the desolate grandeur of Hume Castle breaks the horizon, aa the eye travels toward the range of the Cheviot. A few miles westward, Melrose, ' like some Ull rook with lichena grey,' appears clasped amid the windings of the Tweed ; and the distance presents the serrated mountains of the Oala, the Ettrick, and the Yarrow, all famous in song. Such were the objects that had painted the earliest images on the eye of the last and greatest of the Border minstrels." (tociiarf* L\ft), The first literature with which the child became acquainted was ballads and traditional songs, many of them dealing with the adventures of his own ancestors and hia own kin. " The local information," he tells us, " which I conceive had some share in forming my future tastes and puraniU, I derived from the old songs and tales which then formed tho amusement of a retired country family. My grandmother, in whose youth the old Border depredations were matter of recent tradition, used to tell me many a tale of Watt of Harden, Wight Willie of Aikwood, Jamie Telfer of the fair Dodhead, and other heroes MTBODConoir, --nMnTnni «U of the pennuion and oallln. of Rohl., H-~i j » , John." Before he could n»d he kn»TXlMat H^ "^ "*"• h^rt. Thu. w« developed . p«,.|o„l^h^ "' «•"''»»<"• by *nMwlnfluenow which mouMad hu Ahiuuk ^. * ~~ Ili|«.h'ltI,p,U„„«|„„,iy Ot tain that olunn'd m. y.t , child, Bud, u.o„»h lh,y ta. .tiu with ,h. „h^„ Beturn th« thought! of Mrly time • And (Mll„„, KoKd In llf.-a i|« d„ Olow In th.lln.Md prompt lh.l.y ' Which chwmd m, f,„oy, ..k.ning hour Though no brawl river awept •long To claim, perchance, heroic aong • ' Though r fm|uently, or with half the enthuiiaim." In adulnHceme the name tcndeneive were nouriihed not merfly by IkxiIcb, hut by auch expedition! aa thoae referred to on pp. v-vi of the pruciilirig aketch. So far, Scott had been mainly receptive ; at length came an impulae to embody in poetic form aomo of tlKwe fcelinga and ideas which ha had been atoring up. Thi« was given by ( icrnmn literaturo, to which hia at- tention waa 6rat drawn in 1788. Tlarc he found contemporary writera, with taatea akin to hia own, attempting to revive the mediaival poat in dramaa like Goethe'a Ooftz von Berlirhiitiifn^ or, what waa to him atill more interesting, in ballada which bore a cloae reacniblance in theme and style to hia own Border favourites. X .thing could be more natural than to translate these, and so hia firat publication waa a poetic version of Burger'a Lmore and of the Wild Hautaman, in 1796. En- couraged by his partial auccoss, he made the more ambitious attempt of imitating such ballads in two original poems, OUnfinlat and the Bvt of St. Jolin, ihe latter on a story connected with that familiar scene of hia infancy, the tower of Smailliolme. At the aame time he aet himself to the kindred and congenial task of collecting the ballada and songs still current in the Border country, with the purpoae of iaauing a book Old talsa I heard of woe or mirth. Of loven' allKhta, of lodiec' chsrmi, Of witches' >p«U8. of warriors' arms ; Of patriot battles, won of old By WalUos wliht and Bruce the bold ; Of later fields of f«ud and light, When, pouring from their Highland helfbt. The Soottiih clana. in headlong sway. Had awept the acariet ranks away. While atretch'd at length upon the floor Again I fought each combat o'er. Pebbles and shells, in order laid, The mimic ninka of war diaplay'd ; And onward still the Scottish Lion bore And atlll the scatter'd Southron Bed brion. xxii ""•OOOJJIWW. '•-Ption which mcounujJl Wm n^ "I* '" '*»' •«> ~» • »i»ditloi»M« •npDow In th. .M .'■ •'"'""'«'•«' "P«i .uoh o' "ni«n, th. vi^ ^m.t^;^'::::^ '"^•"r-' '•'-'''• <'''»rn.u.|„th,.„e,.„th,,^j with . . ' *'""•» °««ion.lly 'ng th. better c^-ZrJtWth"^ '<" T''"' '"""P' »» '"'t. ' tim. ~upti„g it to tt h th^ .uU::^'rf t:'^:';.'^ ^ "■• -»• belonging to hi, own ut th.t ft!?.. Perfection ud elegance ifn^ret. „d found ^Twe^^f^T' rr'""* "" ^'» Of «« i- <• .p~i.iiy «»c,.M With h7; ^IT^' "■! ?!r -' ^'^ "Wch J^". The .tep. by which he .^"li "t thT :^'"" '."'"P"''" »"• *i««r,;. •°""°* °' t"" ««>«»i» of the Laylf(k»x^ lgno«ntth.tthe prwtice of^l^ 7 follow, t-.-j ,„ ^ J^hion, „d th.tJttt^n,^^r *.'"'" ''••P'«"»'»t of ob.™ctcr upon it. wo'ldo^J^^L'^J";"' "■ <" ^ "»nd . p„etic«l "^f. wbich w„ once Ii:L^"tt ''""^K The b.lUd.„.e«„,. •»«»" h«kneyed and .i„Z.^ ^n^ lU ^i ""ii!"""" "'*''^y' ^ •v«y grinding hand-onptn t^" bTdi ^ "" '^'»«-»"»"* »' whether tho«, of the co^onhdLTn' u "* '^'* ''" 9"-t™it,.. « effect upon the n,i„d "k^ ^^1^0,°.^ tT T^'^ '"^' ""^ hn™.n body ; for, a. it muet betth aw^wt^ tJ^T^ "^ "» • long Mntence from one «t»n« ^ "•*'"'afd and difficult to carry on of «ch period mu^^^Z^.,T^'^ " '""'"" "»' "■* """"ing tW it mu.t be ext^iTr n«t,.T""" ''^'JT"' "" «"»«' « "dconti^tion thu, r,nd",^ "^^i"'**- ^^e alternate dilalion ^'»=:^»;£=^^^-^^^^ °'7nr:r"'^*"'^"^^^«"«^^ the Auth^'j-r: tZtrl^X; ^'^T ''' '"" «-■«' «o of*, much »>i«.t«I poet^yTharft J^vVT"' *'"?'' '''™" ""' "™'="'" Poeiry that it may be properly termed the Roman- onmii or thi lay. xxiii tioatMiu, by way of ilUtinctiu) i »ih1 which appetn ki iiaturkl to our Ungiisge th»t the very bwt o( our pi«l« have iu>l tut- ii ahlv to protnct it iiiUi the verw proiwrly callwl Hi^niiu, without llic umi i.f epithet* which are, Ui nay the leant, unne«>.!«iittry. But, on tlie otlirr ham'., the extreme facility of the (hurt couplet, which iwciik c-oii(jciiial to our Unguage, ami waa, cloahtleM for that reanon, lo |«.pular with our ohl minitreU, if, for the name reaMiii, apt ^o pmvo a wiaro to the coniponor who unea it In more mnlerii k to compose a ballad on the subject. Of course to hear waa to obey: and thus the goblin story objected to uy several critics as an eioreacenoe upon the poem waa, in fact, the occasi' n Of ita being written. " A chance similar to that which dictated the subject gave me also the hint of a new mode of treating it. We had at that time the lease of a pleasant cotta^ near Laaiwade, on the romantic banka of the Eak, to XXIY IWTBODUCTIOK. Which we cwcapecl when .1, ""ch leiaure. He™ I h^ .:'^'*'°"' "' "le Court ~™.»^ him in pmcuril ,t ^ "'•>' '" *=""»'"» f 1801 f i ? , "'^''^ '" procuring the informatioii whi^i, >. V '' ^ *** <>' «<»ne um tn the scenes which he wished 7 ''«'*"^. "d KuidinA . acquainted than I ha,I h . "*' '» •''"urn, he ™f^ *^ *" *" M opportunity of varvi„7ir ^ ""^ P""'" «". and aifoT. !k "'' theme fV .u ^ "8 "'""easure with fk. ..'"'°™ 'he author at compoeTtrn h *"" " ^'"' ''*t of consuTti,^ .^ "''>' »"*»«d sincerity l™\t"*"?'"'""«''™™- SXd IT 0BNSSI8 or THE LAI. (^ disguit had been greater than their good-nature ohoae to expren. Looking upon them, therefore, as a failure, I threw tlie manuscript into the fire, and thought an little more as I could of the matter. Some time afterwards I met one of my two counsellors, who inquired, with considerable appearance of interest, about the progress of the romance I had commenced, and was greatly surprised at learning its fate. He confessed that neither he nor our mutual friend had been at first able to give a precise opinion on a poem so much out of the conunon road, but that as they walked home together to the city they had talked much on the subject, and the result v/as an earnest desire that I would proceed with the composition. He also a(lde "»' The attempt to return to a m^^mT, *'''/"* ''■^"" ^-^ i'.-^r.i W" likely to be welcomed at a tile wh ?. '^""^ ''^'« °' P«"y of heroic hexameter, with aU thrb J " /u"*"''" ■""' '«™n.e d,^ them in „„dem days. But wttlVT' t , « ""' '"'™«' "• turn., whether mode™te or Z^Z'l^^" '**'" ''" -P-'*- l-h-nd, for among tho« who s"^"^' . """" '*'' "■«■" '«' --^-i the g^t nam« of W^tl^^I^ ChtC 1:^"' -" ueoertl Plan of the Poem Tk. r • love story. The story itself ^Tfi.r- ^^ " ''*'™"™ of a romantic period of the bistorif Ct ( te „adrof r',«\''''''=«' » "'^S-^ defin,,* locality, the S^tish iorfe„ "u ""' '^"'"y)' »"•» '" « P«™.led.. besides this, rj ^^^"'Z ^^ """>"« «ocial oondifon. extent, i„tr«luced, or r^ferLT^ The '^'""' «™"'» ''™- to «,me "ervmg, i„ ^„, „ t^- J^^e eonsequent necessity of oh- . element which is rarely lacking^n stt^s 1 T "'°'^' '"^ '■'"°™ »^ry ,s the thread which mai*tlta, Th ' T ' ""■ "'°"8'> ""« love poem together, it is not i„ the stty that h**""' ^"^ ^''^'' ""e whole «M. but n.ther i„ depicting the life '^""""*" '' "'°«' ■"ter- belong to the actual time^„d1„^^/f '"«:"?• «"'» «'"'"-'*" which -..the e« With Scott. a«'t':Lt:- ---- - OBXIBAL PLAN OF THC L&T. xzvii to the ■malleit oompaw ; he neither much cares for, nor greatly exceU in that portion of the work ; but concentrate, his power upon the active and picturesque scenes of battle and ailventure with which the love story ia bound up. As in Uarmion,' he contrives his plot so as to introduce all the striking aspects of the life of the time and district re- presented : an everyday scene in a Border castle, the perils and diffi- cultiea of the lonely wayfarer, a Border raid, a festive occasion, a combat in the lists, a religious ceremonial, etc. Furthermore, the plot is affected and developed by supernatural influences. There is a super- natural decUration of a cree of Fate which the Lady of Brankeome attempM to defeat by resort to magic ; but, as is usual in such cases, the very means she adopts are instrumental in accomplishing the edicts of destiny, and the lovers are happily united. The supernatural ia one of those elements of medi»val romance which attracted not only Scott (who continually introduces it both in poetry and in prose) but the generation to which he belonged ; as is evidenced by Mrs. Radcliffe's novels, by M. G. Lewis's tales and poems, by the numerous and popular transUtions from the German of weird plays and ballads, as well as, in a higher sphere, by Coleridge's Ancient Mariner and Chrittabel. Further, such superstitious beliefs as those introduced in the Lay, are almost inevitable in the older literature after which it is modelled, as well as a factor in the life of the times depicted in the poem. Yet to this supernatural element, and, indeed, to the general structure of the plot, Jeffrey objected:-" The magic of the lady, the midnight visit to Melrose, and the mighty book of the enchanter, which occupy nearly one third of the whole poem, and engross the attention of the reader for a long time after the commencement of the narrative, are of no use whatever in the subsequent development of the fable, and do not con- tribute, in any degree, either to the production or explanation of the incidents that follow. The whole character and proceedings of the goblin page, in like manner, may be considered as merely episodical ; for though he is employed in some of the subordinate incidents, it is remarkable that no material part of the fable requires the intervention of Bupematuralagency. The young Buccleuch might have wandered into the wood, although he had not been decoyed by a goblin ; and the dame might have given her daughter to the deliverer of her son, although she had never lUtened to the prattlement of the river and mountain spirita." It has been the fashion among the critics to accept this view of Jeffrey, • CI. th« title, ol the lUoeeisiTe cantos o« Jformion ; the CssUe, the Convent, the Csmp, the Battle, etc. zxWii MfTBODUCTlOlf. which a stor7Lt^'''f- ''■■■'«fio.ent i." thaTl^ T™ "'"""'' I would .naLZfta ":"• »"'' whioh. Ute lT'"~""''""3' «e a prosuect ,„^ . "'"ntrj-, getti,i„ to th« . ""'"f"« forward, plead guilty to all fi, "«* " a'w an e,n^ « '"«'wL„; „'""?' '"duced me to «>-th, that I :.' S * """• ^' '-Kth^th: ::;: ''«"' 'he r^ ,„ '-t the nature :/r.:„^rhi* '■"'° ''« "-'h n.^^-^^ » ur,- ported of setting UD an .** "".understood a, dr t """"«'- to ■n.itat* the ofd T .7 ""'°°' °^P°«try, iTtLad / f """ "^ ™»- to he a princiH per^; « JT^'' "' ^^'^^n:^ :I:I"''^*"-Pt J'» "atural p^Sfes T *°^''- ""'"ved (f^L tR ""*'«'ed kitchen, and norhel. /"PP"'*'' ^ "link r^n ■^""^ <" •t'^^. to you a*d to ' "'"'''' *'"'™- I >»en? '^u" '"*° 'he --i«in« Jou'sh„„,dVu:^r """"^ "pp""- r:: r^""-"™- ^P""'. As to the h !!> 1 "'^ °f t"fli'.« with tt h*"'* ^ ■"" attention to thej 1";':',^"'!;"' " '' '•"« - ^ t"" " '"""^' -talk in a fo^ig„ ,a n/ul JTo t T """""'^^ whiri cT^r" » altogether redundan? f . *"'' "'her. . ' ^ *=*" P<»try, with the union of th i ' ""« ?«•" should rJ ■ T^^'^th canto But What co„,7l do '"S ^"^ ""> inte^ ' ,"^"'^ ''-« <='■««. «.d must get rid of" th ""^ '^^ and my pale.?',, "^ *' '" <^"d- - -'-at all events. M^a^-tLr/w^S OIKBRAL PLAir OP TBI LAY. nil their catAitrophe must have been insufficient to occupy an entire canto ; bo I was fain to eke it out with the songs of the minstrels." To all this Professor Minto answers convincingly, as it seems to the present editor:* "That this humble confession and apology was only polite chaff from an author put upon his defence by an amiable lady and not disposed to enter upon serious argument in the circumstances, will hardly be doubted by anybody familiar with Scott's character. If Scott vras serious in his plea of guilty, it is a remarkable instance of genius being unconscious of its own excellence. There is much more truth in another saying of his, applied in the letter to Miss Seward to ' the here 1 critics,' but in his private conversation applied to Jeffrey, that Hbev did not understand wliat he called poetry.' They certainly did not understand this particular example of romantic poetry. There is much to be said in favour of the maligned goblin, whom his author wafa unfeeling enough to disclaim as an excrescence. The Ladye might have been checkmated and Margaret and Cranston married without him, but as the story stands, his help was essential. His pranks are not episodical* but in the main line of the action. That 'no material part of the fable requires the intervention of supernatural agency,' is no more true of Scott's poem than of the Iliad. Further, whether or not the end was clear to the romancer when he began, and however grotesque the supernatural agents are, the structure of the romance is perfectly regular as it stands -its regularity of plot, in fact, is one of the jKJints in wliich it differs from mediaeval romances, one of the points in which Scott profited from the example cf the novelists of the eighteenth century. "The truth is that the supernatural element, so far from being an excrescence, overhangs, encompasses, and inter^notrates the human element in the story. The love of Cranstoun and Margaret is a matter of keen concern and high debate in the supernatural world of magicians, elemental spirits, and hobgoblins which Scott adopted as the peculiar *FoUovlng the lead ot Jeffrey, Mr. Stiurt makes on objection which ts quoted tn the note to 1. 652, Canto IV., ot this edition. But surely r is, too, can be met. Supernatural powers conferred by roa(;ic are always, and niUB always, be represented M limited; no magician is (gifted with omniscience. The Lady was aware of the approach ot assistance, but not of its outcome ; human reasoniri^ rendered it probable that the castle would be relieved, but did not assure the safety of her son, who mi^ht be carried off by the retreating foe to England. Yet, after a struggle between maternal feeling and her sense ot duty to her clan, she was willing to accept that risk. Rut evidently the danger of losing the child was much greater when it de- pended on the result of a single combat between equally matched opponents. zzx ""■ODCcnow. ••dgM her defeat, wreak, her n,ite o„ fh .^"* '"™''«'' «•'«' «know '"ever The human .tory Z^lJ^; «°'"'»' ""« «no«„ce. m^c ^pediment, being „„„,«! by ,„t Lf ''^""'"' '"P«lime„t,, th^ been removed by other mean. VntTn "h r' ""*■"• "^"^ might ha™ been a different kind of ^man^"' " .f" ''^ ">* mmance w„*,d h.™ '» geniu. --hi. '^t Mo'"'""'""'"'" '««en anj'hJtrto"^" "*"''"-" ^bat that belong to society ae a whole ri\fi.'. '"'*'^'' *"•' movement. »nd localities awociated w»i,t '^'«""'«nces and friend. th.T nn«m I,. J ~»««'»ted with his earliest .„,i j '"ena., the .tone, ^m had a meaning for Scott whiXit „ . '^''™» "lemorie.. Thi. E«b place, almost every „ll, f " <*" ''«™ for few of it. reader! pregnant with co»ntle«Is^", •" P*'"'"*'^ mentions, wm toh •tion. do not exist, Hi^T^^'T ^"'* "-Sb for „ tlZl^T bCiThrt^' °"' ""o ''~?ei:::rf:'iif ^^^^^^ "^-^b^ ^11 upon a suitable theme; he is the 7 ^ '" "■""* "^^'ing hi. ^t of h.s race, celeb^ting fo" h I f n "''»";""n«trel, inspired by the HIRORICAL aLtMCim IH TBI LAT. XXZi work of the poem is acarcely a 6ction ; Scott himieU is the minstrel singing for his chieftain's lady.* Although it is the historical aspect that gives for Scott the interest of the theme, he treats history, as usual, with artistic freedom. Not merely, as is shown in the notes, does he alter chronology, bring persons together who never met, and take various liberties with facts, but —what is of greater importance— although professing to illustrate the customs and manners which inciently prevailed upon the Borders, he consciously changes and idealizes the details, so that the impression given is very different from that conveyed by the introduction and notes of the Uinntrelty, • here Scott is the antiquarian and not the poet. Of the cruelty, the misery, the squalor of Bfirder life, Scott was fully cog- nizant, but all this is kept in the background, and is so mentioned as to be scarcely realized (cf. , the incident related by Watt Tinlinn, Canto IV, St. vi). On the other hand, such conditions developed certain qualities which Scott specially admired— courage, endurance, persoiwl loyalty, hospitality, hardihood of all descriptions, and gave play to active and manly characteristics, and to bustling, adventurous, out-of-door life, such as Scott loved. In spite, then, of its drawbacks, Scott felt a genuine interest and enthusiasm for Border life ; and he makes the reader see with his eyes by carefully softening or concealing uglier features, and by intensifying and dwelling upon the more admirable and * " It was at BowhlU that the Countess of Dalkeith ivqueated a ballad on Gflpin Homer. The ruined caetle of Newark closely adjoins that seat, and is now included within Its pUaaatue. Newark had been the chosen residence of the flrst Duchees of Buccleuoh, and [Scott] aocoidlngly shadows out his own beautiful friend in the person of his lord's ancestress, ths Isst of the orl|[inal stock of that Kieat house ; himself the favoured Inmate of BowhIII, Introduced oertaioly to the familiarity ol Its dtele In consequence of his devotion to the poetry of a by-past age. in that of the aged nUn- strei. . . . The arch allualona which run through all these lutroduetiotu, without In the least interrupting the truth and graceful pathos ol their main Impression, seem to me exquisitely characteristic of Scott, whose delight and pride was to play with the genius which, nevertheless, mastered him at will. For, in truth, what Is it that gives to all his works their unique and mastering charm, except the matchless effect which sudden effusions of the purest heart-blood of nature derive frvm their lieing poured out, to all appearance Involuntarily, amidst diction and sentiment cast equally in the mould of the busy world, and the seemingly habitual uesire to dwell on nothing but what might be likely to excite curiosity, without too much disturbing deeper feelings. In the saloons of polished life. Such outbursts come forth dramatically In all his writings ; but in the interludes and passionate parentheses of the Lay of tht Last MinMtrel we have the poet's own inner soul and temperament laid bare and thrvbbing before us. Even here. Indeed, he has a master, and be trusts It— but fortunately It is a transparent one."— DoeUorf. lojcH WtBODrOTtOII. intWMtlng. Further, h« imputa a nuterisl .ni.„j •hey wen,, up to he S ^ho tto l"^""- J" '»"«q<'ence, of Jame. at the begi...r„rof the mJ ™ Z"'^"™ ^^ "" "™™'"' and u„«ttled etatef w "fh favou«d ^r '^' '" ' ""^ '"*""'""' «cial condition., and hil,«^ Z J^"'™'?"*"" "' Primitive the country were making Tf, ^d^Z!:: *'"''' """'' •»'*' "' perilled by attack, f^m ^h, nrig^^t^a Un^l "'" T'u''""^ •"• arU of peace were little' proHubl^^* ' ^1™' ""''■"■binary it waa better to graze . been and «m. ^«"™'"'"' *" discouraged; hill., for the«, »^,r^ of ri°"bl "r^™''^ ■"•»"■ ""-^ .helter. But a ^m J^^^L^ZemSTr *" ^""'"""-^ inhabitant., might be won by Dlund«rin- .i •' Jf ' '**'"*'' ^ "-e wa. con.ta„tIy*done both ta'^^i'^d L^ "^t*""""* ''y™-- " was dignified by it. awociation Zi,h f^? '•*"'*' "' "'^^'V peculiar mora/.Undl^ ' Z «irh" l" u"'' ™"™«'^ «™- « accounted lawful and honouraur-E 'f "".'f TT"""""^' '""^y Nobody knew thl.Mt.rr^S.^'.l^^r'r. T-^^T" ""^ '""'•1' <>' ""'!•"-'• M.„.t„,^h«, given a «..".t^^o.?„°SJ^.*^;s^^::::^°"t''°'" '?''■• '^"'" Tlgoreui nc living I„ „„««.,„ t^„ of p ro«rtt .^H ?. i, !ijjr*"' '" ™"">'— .t««ldo..wlth «.oth.r,«Hl ownlnrob«jC^^„ "''■*'"''«' Into oUn. often JU»en,woodn.ay hav. promntS th^ ^^^^, T"" '"^"'^ " **" Hou« ol «..id.-o,p«4.,:rhTcht„«h^"s^™;^' J "rr"'"^ -^ '"-'« •ynipathiMd hMrtlly hlmieU with thVt h "Ighteenth century. Ht «cut»bb.,o.*ee^.„d::",:'l't:™,^"^^^^^ ">• «-«'y n,o...,«,pe,, ,^, th. reiving Bo«i.„r in hi^hab It ^"^ iv^.'T^' ° '"'^j "''""' ""' •"->- "'m U, .how tag. in " .hield «,d J«k .„d .oto" » Ind ta 'n!!! i.^ .'*'"' '"'«»«««» «lv.n. .■■goodl.nlKht.„dtrnert„rbr,\Jn- F„r t^'",■P''"■'''''''P«P»^'i•»•" with It. „v.ge fend, and ta« .„d .!„ ^ ,""'"'"""■"'•"'"•'«'<" """i"""'.. ml«>n.ble.uffering.,,ghjrf h^'e. nd thi K ."'Lf''''' '■'«'-'""0«l o-tn.ge. .n,^ t^w.n.u.t^r;hLr„:.:rotri:irr^r;^?r^^^ THB BORDIRI. SZXiU .v., .wd Uttk to wmU th«lr time In onltlvating crop, to ba n«l»d U^e^tL^ghUy'exp-M to 8»th.r„ BoM.««. «^- ^ . .iv. M themtelvefc Hence robbery M»umed the »ppeM»nce ol »ir :Z^ Th"tt^ privilege of puling m.»»der, into their o^ T; fn, Loverv of itolen good., led to oontinmd .kirmwhefc The Trd^ L h^U «-i«ntly the chiefuiu of a ^rde, horde T„^tr«i WM not iniUntly granted by the oppoeite officer, for Ie.Xi^r.Iln^ by hi. di.?ri^. w«i entitled to "taliaU up« Snan» of a military bari. for ««iety. "The hn'"«^»'« ™^"^ Te Border. we« the chief, of dilTerent cUn.. who •"«'«* ""'^"j re.p«=tive «pU, a dominion partly patriarchal a.rf I-'^'y ™. ^r. oL «. that of the SootU , their chief wa. Buocleuch. who ta «:a to l^e™n able in the 16th oentnry to .ummon to hU ba»ex«» "ndred laird., all of hi. own n«n.. with ten tho««nd ■»«»->»*- n,en 1 ' »tiU of hi. own blood. "The abode, of th*" P*"? P™"? by .^o mean, corn-ponded to the extent of their power. We do n<*find^ 'rthe Scott^Zder., the .plendid •"* "tTl™ Suh^^ which grace.! and defended the oppodte frontier." "T^f «<»»•'* <*^ Uirh^v^r .xten«v. hi. domain., derived no pecuniary «lv.nU«. lefro^. .uch parts a. he could him«lf '"^t'^'T "Zon^S of rent wa. hardly known on the Border. tiU a«»r the """""'J^' All that the landloni could gain from tho» """^^S -P""*"' "^^ w« their per«nal «ry,ce in battle, their .«i.tance In >»l»«""8 «« Und ret«Jid in hi. natural po-«»ion, some petty q"'*""** "^ » ™^" rambling the feudal ca^uUtiee. and perhap. a .hare .n the .jpod whid. r^oq^red by rapine. This, with Ms herd, of cattle «.d of *eep ^d^Th the W«i.»aiJ which he exacted from hi. neighbour., conrt^ "ted the revenue of the chieftain , and from fund. » V^^^^ could rarely iTa« "«.. to exr .d in .trengthen.ng <«^«»»"°8 h» ^biUtion."^ Zther re»K,n i. found in the Scotush mode of warfare^ It w*. early discovered that the English «.rp««ed th«r n^gh*""" >" the aru of assaulting and defending fortified pUcei. ^^'XltT Scottish, therefore, deterred them from e.-ecting upon the Bonder^ building, of such extent and .trength. a., being once taken by the foe. would have been capable of receiving a permanent garrison. For these combined reasons, the residence of the ch.eftain w« ^TT^V " Urge, square, battlemented tower, called a kep, or peel, pl«ed on a pr^ipi«, or on the bank, of a torrent, and. if the ground would pennH. SumLded by a moat." "The common people resided ui paltry hut., nnvoDDOTioir. •hMt th« Mfcty of which th.y wi, littl. u.km., u th«y oooUlMd ~U.ing of V.1U.. On th. .pp™«h of . .„p.rior fo™ they'-Z^SS tt|«. to pr.v.„t their h.i„, ba™d. «d th,„ .h«,do„«l7h.m to tH JifrjM'™'.""'^'* ""'' "°*»''»» •"<« onder mch . form of lormi. ■«.t did not. of ooune, confine their kU of »iol«.o. to Bnglud. !^^'''?^;:^'""°"«u'""'"'""' '•"<"• °' ""e mcrt vindictive char. •oter„i.t«lb.tw«,„ the v,riou. cUn., u i. illuit^ted in the poem, cmt^ .nthority, .nd in retnm. th, 8ootti.h monarch ..m.tim.. tr..tedth,n,, in t.m«i of pe«» when their •.rvice. were not required, ^ them for their di«rd.r., .nd «re„ by «q«Mlontr«t •bmdoned them to th. bloody «Uli.tion of th. EngUA. In «d» ^^ Ai ^aT.V^'I' '^• ""' g"^™""" l»d. fa th. fbnrtwnth omtury, divided th. bonndaric. into th. Eut, Middle «.d W«t «.rch«ii and warden, were appointed for Mch of th«. by th. «.p«tiv. «v.re,gn,. Within th.» di,trict. th. w.rf,n, rtood in «Lin^. ^""""f *'" P""**"^"' rf th« king hinuelt At ^rii™ mT', ^'. *:;!" "'" '"'■' '"'•" ""> ^"«»''' «<> 8ootti.h warden, met for th. adju.tment of difficaltie. and cUinn Thw. meeting,. ,, „ight be expected, wmetirae. ended in rewrt to «m. , and the warden., who wer, uraally powerful Border magnate, wer^ tl T^l '"i"**"" °' '^"^"'^ *■"" »»fa'«i™" of good oMer. ^»d «; r ^.°«'*'' ""^ "*"" """'y- No'thmnb.rUnd alon. BcottKh Border., and between July «,d November de.troyed 192 town., towers pari8h ohurche., etc.. dew 403 SootU, took 816 pri«m. T" '^f?."'^ r" '"■"" ""^ °' ""'•• '^-OOO d.eep, 1,298 hor«.. etc. Within the next twelvemonth, the Englid, le«ler reported to the kmg that m 16 day. he had dertroyed on the 8cotti.h Border. 7 .TT't.'^f ^ '"'"■' •""""' '^ «*•"•"' f""-". •»<=•. » «nark.t ^J^.rL^?' " """'• ""• A. Ute a. 1606 the Earl of Dunbar «ecnted 140 Border robber. ; but after th. middle of the 17th centnrv the Border, gradually .uhuded into a pe«!eful and orderly wciety. The geographical .ignification of the word "Border." vari... Km.time. meaning the Scottish and Englid, dure, touching upon th, dividing one of the two kingdom., Mmetime. th, Scotti.h .hire, only • in it. met proper Uteraiy wme tho word i* oMid qwdaUy appUwi to that ^sm RTU OP m lAT. put ol SootUuid dnlind by tlw Twnd ud lU triboUrlw, ud HM dnintd by the Edc and UddeL Th« Bonfor, in thU urrowMt miin, i* • weU wmterad tipuiM of moon wid ronndad hill*, with oocuional piwipicM, full of bUck montt, gnen pMtum uid quiet glen*. Ai Scott knew it, it wm elmaet treelew, though, no doubt, •* mioh namee u Xttrick FonU »how, at an earlier period well- wooded. Profeaaor Veitch giTH a deeoriptlon of a ohaiaoteriitio Bonier eoene i "We look around na bam thU great height, and what •trikee the eyet On all •idea innumerable rounded, broad hilltope run In eerie* ot parallel Bowing ridge*, and between the ridge* we note that there i* encloied in •aoh a acooped-oot glen, in which we know that a bum or water flow*. The»e hill-top* follow each other in wavy outline. One riee*. flow*, lalU, paewa K)ftly into another. Thi* again riae*, flow*, and pa**e* into another beyond itaelf j and thu* the eyo repoee* on the long *oft line* of a *ea of hilla, whcee top* move, and yet do not move, for they carry our vlaion along their undulating flow*, themaelve* motionleea, lying like an earth ocean in the deep, quit* calm of their atotueaqne beauty. Near u* are the head* of the bum*, and the head* of the glen*. Here at our bum-head, we have deep peaty bogs, out of which ooia black trickling rill* } then, at another, we have a well-eye, fringed with bright moiae*, and fair forget-me-not of purer hue and more alender form than the vaUey can «how. The bum gather* *trength and make* iu way down through a deep red acaur and amid grey-bleached boulder atone* ; then, overahadowed by the bough* of a aoliury rock- rooted birch, lespa through a aunny faU to a atrong, deep eddying puoL At length it reache* the hoUow of the glen, where it wind* round and round, amid link* of aoft, green paatuie, amid aheen of bracken and glow of heather, paaae* a aoliUry herd'* houae— the only aymbol of human life there— now breaka againat a dark-grey oppo«ing rook, then epread* itaelf out before the aunlight in aoft muaic amid ita atone*. Finally, leaving the line of hiUa that ahut in the glen on each aide, the atream mingle* with one of the water* of the South, with the Tweed itaelf." Style of the Poem.— A* we have aeen it w«* Soott'* purpo*e in writing the Lay to afford the aame aort of gratification to hi* reader* a* in earlier time* the ballad had furnished to the audience that gathered about the minstrel The minstrel gave pleasure by telling a lively and interesting story dealing with the r -velloua or adventurous, or apring- ing from some universal and obvious sources of pathos or joy. To thia •toiy wa* imparted the charm given by poetic form, by nmple rhythm*. sssvl nramoBvonow, 1^ oeoMloiMl •tavMica d dioUoo and lm*g«ry, but (Imm of » rooffa- uA-ntAf obanotM-, lor all KqnbitaicH in ityl* wonM hsv* bMO kit apon th« aadima* wid under tha oonditlona o( ballad iwltatlon. In Uka manner, what aignalina Boott'i poetry, aapaoially in oontraat with that o» hia oootemporariea and Immediate pndeoeMon, la that it ia poetiy not of lefleotion, of iniight, or of analyiia, but poetry of move- ment and aatioa, tha piotnreai)tta repreaentat ion of the external world, of what in human Ufa praaenU itaelf to ev and ear, without profundity of feeling or aubtlety of thought or ol,«rvation. No poet eurpaMta Scott in hia ipeoial aphere, in the animation and vigour of hU narrativa, in the way in which he oarriea ua along through deacriptiona of varied and pictureaqua aoenee, incidenta, and charactera. With thia vigour and frMhneai, with thia fawk of aubtlety and profound thought, tha atyle of the iajr harmoniiea. The mjtre haa awing and animation, a capacity for dilTerent efTeoU of awift and varied narrative. The diction and imagery are concrete and plcturewjue. The eaae with which the poet'a thought ulothea ftMlf in fairly appropriate language and rhythm ia felt by the reader, and givee attraction to the poem. But rarely are thought and form ao aptly fitted aa to lead uii to pauae, to linger fondly over a thought or a cadence. And if we miat the tendency to be carried along by the vigoroua atyle, and atop to be critical, we find frequent indicationa of alipahod workmanahip, imperfect rhymea, proaaio or tri ial expreaaiona, defective metre, inharmonioua oombinatlona of aound, and inaccurate nae of worda.* The aaoription of the poem to a wandering minattel may aervo to co". done anoh olfencea, aa it cerUinly wamnta the poet'a frequent and not unpleaaing uae of provincial words, terma from old ballads, and the obaolete language of elder poeU, eapecially of Spenser. The Lay mora oloMly resembles iU models than does any of iu ancceaaors, e.}., than the Lady of the Late, with ita more elaborate ornament, frequent and detailed description of scenery, and more aentimental tone. In the Lay, scenes are not elaborately deacribed, but effectively characterised by one or two epitheta, or are mentioned for the sake of the historic • For siample ; imptrfiel rkymM (rery Inqunit) : kid, ami, II, IM ; drMkl, laid, II.. ITS ; toy, high. III., !M; toil, miU, III., Me ; fital, etnd, IV., SCO j on, tow, VI., un, etc ; yrataic, or trttial exprtuion : " And (lao hia power wsi Uniiled," III 1«2 ; I«-8 ; IV., 260 ; irfectiv, mttre : •• Unwllllntly hiuiMlI be addreaaed," III'., It? • I., 151, IM, i9P: /I., 4S5: ul<: "Alia, lair i(mw>[ your hopes all tuin," It, 948 ; itvuxmraU iim iif worda ; cnwmL II., IM ■ a*o«, IV ' n;tnov,IV.,M!;dasr,V.,n;fa in lh« manner of th« bnt l»lla known a« the ballad stanca, e.g,, '• WlMn P«rojr w|' tha Douflaa met I wat ha waa tu' (ain I Tbey awakked their aworda till aalr they awat. And blood nn down like rain.' The minstrel* were not, however, sticklers for reguUrity. and from time to time, as it suited their convenience, intermingled sUnzas that departed from this form, sometimes, for example, lengthening the 2nd and 4th lines by an additional foot, or extending the stanza to six lines. In the Ancient Itariner, Coleridge takes similar liberties, not through indolence or indifference, however, but to produce special effects. In his earlier imitations. The Eve of Si. John, etc., Scott writes in the form of quatrains, but for a long poem he felt that the stanza became intolerably monotonous. The hint for a suitable metre, he derived, as he tells us, from hearing a part of Coleridge's Chritlabel recited. The basis of Coleridge's metre is the rhyming tetrameter couplet, where the Btreaies and not the syllables ate counted, e.g., " la the night chilly and dark? The nidht ia chilly, but not dark. The thin gray cloud is spread on high. It oovera, but not hidee the aky. The moon la behind, and at the toll : And yet aha looks both amall and dull. The night ia chill, the cloud ia gny : ■Tla a month before the month of May, And the Spring oomes alowly up thia way." Scott echoes thia rhythm very distinctly in the first stanza of Canto I, but having caught the general conception, he proceeds to use it in his own fashion, and the stanzas which follow are much less reminiscent of Colendge. Scott, not content with the very considerable latitude and and variety allowed by the varying number of syllables in the line, vanes also the number of stresses, and adjusta the rhymes as he pleases. In the iHlroduetion and other parta of the framework, he employs the most regular form of the line, the eight syllabled rhyming couplet, and this may be regarded as the stan.Urd measure, departures from which are intended to produ * special effects. Undoubtedly Scott is careless in this matter as in uthers, and variation is often, as he himself confesses, the result of momentary convenience or caprice. At other times the wrieties of metre are employed with admirable e&ct. Note, for OIHKBAL CHARACTBBI8TIC8 OF -nn LAT. Xxxix nple, the fitneu of the lyrical form of ha dose of U. , - jv. , and its effective contrsat with xxiv. ; again compa. ■> sMiizas xxiii xxiv., xxv., and xxvi. of Canto I ; observe the snitabilliy ^," tlit metre in xxv. for swift narrative, and the propriety of the closing couplet of xxvi. General Characteriatici.— Two extracts from competent critics may serve to sum up the general characteristics of tlie poem. Mr. R. H. Hutton ascribes the success of Scott's poetry to "the high romantic glow and the extraordinary romantic simplicity of the poetical elements they conteined. . . . The cases in which he makes a study of any mood or feeling, as he does of this harper's feelings, are comparatively rare. Deloraine's night ride to Melrose is a good deal more in ScoU'" ordinary way than this study of the old harper's wistful mood. But whatever his subject his treatment of it is the same. His lines are always strongly drawn, his handling is always simple, and his subject always romantic. . . . Scott's romance is like his native scenery- bold, bare, and rugged, with a swift, deep stream of strong, pure feeling running through it. There is plenty of colour in his pictures, as there is on the Scotch hills when the heatlier is out. And so, too, there is plenty of intensity in his romantic situations ; but it is the intensity of simple, natural, unsophisticated, hardy, and manly char- acters. But as for subtleties and fine shades of feeling in his poems, or anything like the manifold harmonies of the richer arts, they are not to be found. Again there is no rich music in his verse. It is its rapid onset, its hurrying strength, which so fixes it on the mind." Scott's great critical contemporary, Jeffrey, whose natural and acquired taste was for a poetry very different from that of the Lay, yet finds theme for praise in the same qualities: " The great secret of his popularity, and the loading cliaracteristio of his poetry, appear to us to consist evidently in this, that he has made more use of common topics, images and expressions, than any original poet of later times. . . In the choice of his subjects, for example, he does not atUmpt to interest merely by fine observation or pathetic sentiment, but takes the assistance of a story, and enlisu the reader's curiosity among his motives for attention. Then his characters are all selected from the most common diamiitu pemmm of poetry ;— kings, warriors, knighu, outUws, nuns, minstrels, secluded damsels, wizards, and true lovers. . . In the management of the passions, again, Mr. Scott appears to have pursued the same popular and comparatively easy t ourse. . . He has dazzled the reader with the splendour, and even warmed him with the transient heat of various affections j bat H niTKODUCTIMI. he hu nowhere fairly kindled him with enthiuiasm, or melted hfra into Undemesa. Writing for the world at large, he has wisely afaetained from attempting to raise any passion to a height to which worldly people could not be transported ; and contented himself with giving hi* reader the chance of feeling aa a brave, kind, and affectionate gentleman must often feel in the ordinary course of his existence, without trying to breathe into him either that lofty enthusiasm which disdains tlie ordinary business and amusements of life, or that quiet and deep sensibility which unfiU for meet of its pursuits. With regard to diction and imagery, too, it is quite obvious that Mr. Soott has not aimed at writing either in a very pure or a very consistent style. He seems to have been anxious only to strike, and to be easily and oniversally understood. . . In y And the I^idje had gone to her secret bower : Her boKSi^that was guarded by word and by speli. Deadly to hear, and deadly to tell — •If"' Maria, shield us well ! No living wight, save the Ladye alone, Had darod to cross the ttlEesboM. stone. The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all ; Knight and paga and household squire Loiter'd through the lofty hall. Or crowded round the ample Ure : The lt-»C-*'""TM*°. weary with the chase. Lay stretch'd upon the.Dialiy floor, And urged, in dreams, the forest r tee From Tg'inW-^nfl tn ^■'"'■'" - 10 Ifi Nine-and-twenty knights of fame Hung their shields in Branksome Hall ; Nine-acd-twenty squiraajof name Brought them their steeds to bower from stall ■ Nine-and-twenty yeQm§a_tail Waited, duteous, on them all : They were all knights of mettle true, Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch. 20 Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With belted swotti and sgur on heel : se ■OOTT. [Caiito Thtj qaitted not their hamegs bright, Neither by day nor yet by night : They Uy down to reet, With c BITIB, SPIRIT. ' Sleep'st thou, brother » ' "-"^^^ MOCHTAIN SPIRIT. ' Brother, nay — On my hills the moonbeams play. From Craik-croas to Skelfhill-pen, By every rill, in every glen, Merry elves their morris pacing, To aerial minstrelsy. Emerald rings on brown heath tracing. Trip it deft and merrily. ^.^a**^^ Up, and mark their nimble feet ! JjA'^'^l^ ' Up, and list their music sweet 1 ' -^^ ^z' xn. BITIB SPIRIT. 'Tears of an imprison'd maiden Mix with my polluted stream ; Margaret of Branksome, sorrow-laden. Mourns beneath the moon's pale beam. 166 Tell me, thou who vieVst the stars. I 166 160 I] Wlfen .hall n«|^ft »,{; ,0r TBC IiAST MIHITRIL. cat ' """" ^f'tiip 'I'lfi'il j Whl>* •*"" H- t hn miid r n' n fat n t Who «hft)l hy t^)g p..;j.„'. »i,t^t' 11 MODIITAIN gPIBIT. 'Arthur's slow wain his course doth roll In utter darkness round the pole ; The Northern Bear lowers black and grim : Orion's studded belt is dim ; Twinkling faint, and distant far, 3**'*""""'* through mist each planet star ; 111 may I read their high decree ! B» and horse ' Stemm'd a midnight torrent's force. The warrior's very plume, I say. Was daggled by the dashing spray : Yet, through good heart a^d Our Ladye's grace, At length he gain'd th^ landing-place. 310 316 Now Bowden Moor the march-man won, And sternly shook his plumed head, As glanced his eye o'er Halidon : For on his soul the slaughter red Of that unhallow'd mom arose, Whsn first the Scott and Carr were foes ; When royal James beheld tha fray. Prize to the*ictor of the day; When Home and Douglas in the van Bore down Buccleuch's retiring clan. Till gallant Cessford's heart-blood dear Beek'd on dark Elliot's Border spear. 330 330 390 In bitter mood he spurred fast, And soon the hated heath ^°° ypatT And far beneath, in lustre wan, / Old Melros' rose, and fair Tweed ran : ^] THC LAT OF TBI LAIT MIHtn^L. Like some tall rook with Jicjjgiis gray, Seem'd dimly huge, the dark Abbaye. When Hawick he pass'd, had curfew rung, Now midnight lauds were in Melrose sung. The sound upon the fitful gale In solemn wise did rise and fail, Like that wild harp whose magic tone Is waken'd by the winds alone But when Melrooe he reach'd, 'twas silence all : He meetly stabled his steed in stall, And sought the convent's lonbly wall. 335 340 345 Hkri paused the harp ; and with its swell The Master's fire and courage fell : Dejectedly and low he bow'd. And, gazing timid on the crowd, He seem'd to seek in every eye If they approved his minstrelsy ; And, diffident of present praise. Somewhat he spoke of former days. And how old age and wandering long Had done his hand and harp some wrong. The Duchess, and her daughters fair. And every gentle lady there, Each after each, in due degree. Gave praises to his melody ; His hand was true, his voice was clear, And much they long'd the rest to hear : Encouraged thus, the Aged Man, After meet rest, again began. 350 355 360 •8 MOTT. [Camto CANTO SE(X>ND. L If thou woold'st view fair Meln»e wight, Go vi«it it by the pale moonlight ; For the gay beam* of lightsome day Oild, but to flout, the ruins gray. When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white ; When the oold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruin'd centr|il tower ; When buttress and bnttrertTaltemately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die ; When distant Tweed is heard to rave. And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave. Then go — but go alone the while Then view St. David's ruin'd pile; And, home returning, soothly swear. Was new scene so sad and fair I 10 II. Short halt did Deloraine make tnere ; Little reck'd he of the scene so fair ; With dagger's hilt on the wicket strom He struck full loud, and struck full long. The porter hurried to the gate 'Who knocks so loud, and knocks so latel' 'From Branksome I,' the warrior cried ; And straight the wicket open'd wide : For Braoksome's chiefs had in battle stood ■^ n.1 TBI LAT or TBI LAiT Mmran. I ^/->. a( To fence the right* of fair Melroae ; / And lands and livings, many a rood. Had gifted the ihrine for their louU' repose. 30 tii. Bold Deloraine hit errand laid ; The porter bent his humble head ; With torch in hand, and feet unshod, And noiseless step the path he trod ; The arched cloister, far and wide, Rang to the warrior's clanking stride, Till, stooping low his lofty crest, He enter'd the cell of the ancient priest, And lifted his hr.md aventayle To hail the Monk of St Mary's aisle. IT. • Tlie Tadye of Branksome greets thee by me ; Says that the fated hour is come, And that to-night I shall watch with thee. To win the treasure of the tomb." From sackcloth couch the monk arose, With toil his stiffen'd limbs he reari ; A hundred years had flung their snows On his thin locks and floating beard M 40 And strangely on the knight look'd he. And his blue eyes gleam'd wild and wide ; 'And darest thou, warrior, seek to see What heaven and hell alike would hide 1 My breast in belt of iron pent. With shirt of hair and scourge of thorn ; 60 X -••-*■ For thrBMOore jttn, in penmnc* ipant, My knsM thoM flinty itonai hare worn ; Yet all too little to atone For knowing what ibould ne'er be known. Woald'it thou thy every future year In ceaeeleea prayer and penance drie, Yet wait thy latter end with fear — Then, daring warrior, follow me I ' ' Penance, father, will I none ; Prayer know I hardly on^ ; For man or prayer can I rarely tarry, Save to patter an Ave Mary, When I ride on a Border foray. Other prayer can I none ; So tpted me my errand, and let me be gone.' -y ro^0u- S6 60 / 66 Again on the knight look'd the churchman old, 70 And again he sighed heavily ; For he had himself been a warrior bold. And fought in Spain and Italy. And he thought on the days that were long since by, Whun his limbs were strong, and his courage was high : 75 Now, slow and faint, he led the way Where, cloister'd round, the garden lay ; The pillar'd arches were over their head. And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead. Spreading herbs and flowerets bright, Olisten'd with the dew of night ; I Til LAT or TBI LAIT MIIIITaU. -Jl Nor herb nor floweret gliiten'd there, But WM carved in the oloUter-«rchei ■■ (sir. The monk gued long on the lovely moon. Then into the night he looked forth ; 89 And red and bright the itreamen light Were dancing in the glowing north. So had he seen in fair Caatile tha youth in glittering squadronii start; Hudden the flying jennet wheel, 90 And hurl the unexpected dart. He knew, by the streamers that shot so bright, That spirits were riding the northern light By a steel-clenched pootem door They euter'd now the chancel tall ; The darken'd roof rose high aloof On pillars lofty and light and small : The key-stone that lovk'd each ribbed aisle. Was a fleur-de-lys or a quatre-feuille ; The corbells were carved grotesque and grim ; And the pillars, with cluster'd shafts so trim, With base and with capital flourish'd around, Seem'd bundles of lances which garlands had bound. 100 Full many a scutcheon and banner riven Shook to the cold night-wind of heaven. Around the screened altar's pale ; And there the dying lamps did burn Before thy low and lonely urn, O gallant chief of Otterbume ! And thine, dark knight of Liddesdale t 106 110 >»• ROOTT. [CaJito O fading honours of the dead ) O high ambition lowly laid 1 XL The moon on the east oriel shone Through slender shafts of shapelj stone, By foliaged traoery combined ; Hg Thou would'st have thought some fairy's hand Twixt poplars straight the orier wand In many a freakish knot had twined ; Then framed a spell when the work was done, And changed the willow wreaths to stone. 120 The silver light, so pale ai)d faint, Show'd many a prophet and many a saint, Whose image on the glass was dyed ; Full in the midst, his Cross of Red Triumphant Michael brandished, 125 And trampled the Apostate's pride. The moon-beam kiss'd the holy pane. And threw on the pavement a bloody stain. ZIL They sate them down on a marble stone,-^ . A Scottish monarch slept below ; — <2<^t,«»-'*^*^lS0 Thus spoke the monk, in solemn tone : • 2 ' ' - ^ ■'- '^^.^ not always a man of woe ; 'or Pavnim fniintriA. I have trod. And fought beneath the Cross of God : Now, strange to my eyes thine arms appear, 138 And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear. XIII. ' In these far climes it was my lot To meet the wondrous Michael Scott; -z.-^ n-] THI LAT OF IHB lABT MINSTHIL. -Jg A wizard of such dreaded fame / Tl>»twh5Pjii^Salaman(STS5v^ ^■^'^'^ j4n _ Him-Krt«rhis magic wand to wave, The bells would ring in Notre Dame I Some of his skill he taught to me ; And, warrior, I could say to thee The words that cleft Eildon hills in three, U6 And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone : But to speak them were a deadly sin ; And for having but thought them my heart within, A treble penance must be done. XIV. 'When Michael lay on his dying bed, His conscience was awakened ; He bethought him of his sinful deed, And he gave me a sign to come with speed : 1 was in Spain when the morning rose. But I stood by his bed ere evening close. iJ- ' The words may not again be said (T^ That he ay*:e to m^jen death-bed laid ; -? ./ /. , They w- 'd rtSSi-^^'JiSSiye's massy nave„ ^ n.] TH« LAY OF THE LAST IIISST8EI.. 87 And through the cloister-galleries small, Which at mid-height thread tlie^elianceLttall, Loud sobs, and laughter louder, ran. And voices unlike the voice of man ; As if the fiends kept holiday 260 Because these spells were brought to day. I cannot tell how the truth may be ; I say the tale as 'twas said to me. XXIII. ' Now, hie thee hence,' the father said, ' And when we are on death-bed laid, 26J O may our dear Ladye and sweet St. John Forgive our souls for the deed we have done ! ' The monk return'd him to his cell, And many a prayer and penance sped ; When the convent met at the noontide bell, 270 The Monk of St. Mary's aisle was dead ! Before the cross was the body laid With hands clasp'd fiwt, as if still he pray'd. The knight breathed free in the morning wind. And strove his hardihood to find : 276 He was glad when he paas'd the tombstones gray Which girdle round the fair Abbaye ; For the mystic book, to his bosom prest. Felt like a load upon his breast ; And his joints, with nerves of iron twined, 280 Shook like the aspen leaves in wind. Full fain was he when the dawn of day Began to brighten Cheviot gray ; He joy'd to see the cheerful light. And he said Ave Mary aa Tell as he might. 285 38 # [Canto The Bun had brighten'd Cheviot gray, The sun had brighten'd the Carter's side ; ' And soon beneath the rising day Smiled Branksome Towers and Teviot's tideb The wild birds told their warbling tale, And waken'd every flower that blows; And peeped forth the violet pale, And spread her breast the mountain rose. And lovelier than the rose so red. Yet paler than the violet pale, She early left her sleepless bed, The fairest maid of Teviotdale. , .Ji^ i 990 990 Why does fair Margaret so early awake. And don her kirtle so hastilie ; 299 And the silken knots which in hurry she would make. Why tremble her slender Angers to tie; Why does she stop, and look often around. As she glides down the secret stair; And why does she pat the shaggy blood-hound. As she rouses him up from his lair ; 305 And, though she passes the postern alone, Why is not the watchman's bugle blown t XZTII. The ladye steps in doubt and dread Lest her watchful mother hear her tread ; The ladye caresses the rough blood-hound Lest his voice should waken the castle round ; The watchman's bugle is not blown, For he was her foster-father's son ; •10 / n.] THl LAY 0» TBB LAST MINBTBBL. And she glides through the greenwood at dawn of light To meet Baron Henry, her own true knight. 31S i The knight and ladye fair are met, And under the hawthorn's boughs are set. A fairer pair were never seen Tomsfit_beiieath the hawthorn green. He was stately and young and tall, 520 Dreaded in battle, and loved in hall : And she, when love, scarce told, scarce hid, Lent to her cheek a livelier red ; When the half sigh her swelling breast Against the silken ribbon prest ; 335 When her blue eyes their secret told, Though shaded by her locks of gold — . Where would you find the peerless fair, With Margaret of Branksome might compare 1 And now, fair dames, methinks I see |30 You listen to my minstrelsy ; Your waving locks ye backward throw. And sidelong bend your necks of snow : Ye ween to hear a melting tale Of two true lovers in a dale ; 335 And how the knight, with tender fire. To paint his faithful passion strove; Swore he might at her feet expire, But never, never cease to love ; And how she blush'd, and how she sigh'd, 340 And, half consenting, half denied, © A nd laid that she would die a mud ; — Yet, might the bloody feud be stay'd, Henry of Cranstoun, and only he, Margbret of Branksome's choice should be. [Camto <^^ XXX. Alas I fair dames, your hopes are vain ! My harp has lost the enchanting strain ; Its lightness would my age reprove : My hairs are gray, my limbs are old. My heart is dead, my veins are cold : I may not, must not, aifig of love. 300 ZZXI. Beneath an oak, moss'd o'er by eld, The Baron's dwarf his courser held. And held his crested helm and spear : That dwarf was scarce an earthly man, SS6 If the tales were true that of him ran Through all the Border, far and near. 'Twas said, when the Baron a-hunting rode Through Reedsdale's glens, but rarely trode, He heard a voice cry, ' Lost ! lost ! lost I ' yfiO And, like tennis-ball by racket toss'd, A leap of thirty feet and three. Made from the gorae this elfin shape, Distorted like some dwarfish ape. And lighted at Lord Cranstognls knee. JfiQ Lord Cranstoun was some whit dismay'd ; 'Tis said that five good miles he rade. To rid him of his company ] But where he rode one mile, the dwarf ran four, And the dwarf was first at the castle door. ^2Q n.] TH« lAT OF TBI lAW MinTaiL. SI XXXII. Use JaiiiB* marvel, it is said : Tliis elvish dwarf with the Baron sUid ; Little he ate, and less he spoke, Kor mingled with thejuaniaL^^c : ^ <^ And oft apart.his arms he toss'd, 376 And often mutter'd ' Lost ! lost I lost ! ' He was waspish, arch, and litherlie. But well Lord Cranstoun served he : And he of his service was full fain ; For once he had been ta'en or slain, 380 Aj it had not beenjFor hia miniatrv. All between Qgig^^and Qficfflitage '^ Talk'd of Lord Cranstoun's Ooblin Page. XXXIII. For the Baron went onj__ And took with him this elvish page, To Mary's Chapel of the Lowes : For there, beside our Ladye's lake. An offering he h ad sworn to m ake. And he wrnnd pay his vows. But the Ladye of Branksome gather'd a band 390 Of the best that would ride at her command : The trysting place was Newark Lee. Wat of Harden came thither amaifiT"* And thither came John of Thirlestane, And thither came William of Deloraine; 396 They were tliree hund red sp ^^r^ and three. ><*r>-r<*i^ Through Douglas-btffnTup Yarrow stream, "'^ Their horses prance, their lances gleam. They came to St. Mary's lake ere day ; But the chapel was void, and the Baron away. 400 They bum'd the chapel for very rage. And coned Lord Cranstoun's Goblin Page. S9 ■OOTT. [OAaro ZXXIT. And now, in Branktome's good gieenwood, A* under the aged oak he atood, The Baron's oonrMr pricki bia ean, Aa if a diatant noiae he heara. The dwarf wavea hia long lean arm on high, And aigna to the lovera to part and fly : No time was then to vow or aigh. Fair Margaret through the hazel grove Flew like the atartled cuahat-dove : The dwarf the atirrup held and rein ; Vaulted the knight on hia steed amain, And, pondering ^p th^t mr^rpii^g'ii g<)nj^ Rode eaatward through the hawthoma green. 408 410 41B WaiLB thua he ponr'd the lengthen'd tale, Hie Minatrel'a voice began to fail : Full alyly smiled the observant page. And gave the wither'd hand of age A goblet, crown'd with mighty wine, The blood of Velez' acorched vine. He raiaed the ailver cup on high. And, while the big drop fiU'd hia eye, Pray'd God to bleaa the Duchess long. And all who cheer'd a son of song. The attending maidens smiled to see How long, how deep, how zealously. The precious juice the Minstrel qoaffd ; And he, embolden'd by the draught, Look'd gaily back to them and laugh'd. Hie cordial nectar of the bowl Swell'd his old veins, and cheer'd his soul ; A lighter, livelier prelude ran, Ere thus his tale again began. 4» 4» 430 TIB LAT or TBI LAIT MIWITBIL. u CANTO THIRD. Ahd uid I that my limbi were old, And Mid I that m^^lgtvLsMUigld, ^^g/^t^t.^ And that my kincTly fire wa« fled, And my poor wither'd heart waa de->d. And that I might not sing of lovel — How oould I to the dearest theme That ever warm'd a minstreTsjlig^a, So foul, BO false a re^^ant prove! X^-y TBI iMT mwiTtrii Berida the wounded Deloraine. From the ground he roae dismajr'd, And sh ook his huge and matted head ; L)ne wor d he mutter'd and no morej, 'Man ofi^, thou smitest sore! No more the Elfin Page durst try Into the wondrous Book to pry ; The clasps, though smear'd with Christian gore, Shut faster than they were before. He hid it underneath his cloak Now, if you ask who m ve the^ stroke. q /^ I cannot tell, so mofTthrive j" '"'•^ It was not given by man alivo. S7 J1& 120 ^;^26. f Unwillingly himself he address'd ' To do his master's high behest : He lifted up the living corse, And laid it on the weary horse ; lan He led him into Branksome Hall Before the beards of the warders all ; And each did after swear and say, There only pass'd a wain of hay. He took him to Lord David's tower, jan Even to the Ladye's secret bower ; And, but that stronger spells were spread. And the door might not be opened, He had laid him on her very bed. Whate'er he did of gramarye, ^U/IL Was always done maliciou^y ; '' He flung the warrior on the ground, And the blood well'd freshly from the wound. K [Oum As he rapam'd the oater coart, He spied the fair young child at aport t He thought to train him to the wood ; For, at a word, be it nndentood, He waa always for ill, and never for good. Seem'd to the boy some comrade gay Led him forth to the woods to play ; On the drawbridge the warders stout Saw a terrier and lurcher passing out. ut uo He led the boy o'er bank and fell,- .^«»*t*<»-^Q5^ Until they came to a woodland brook ; The running stream dissolved the spell, 16D And his own elvish shi^ie he took. Could he have had his pleasure vilde. He had crippled the joints of the noble child ; Or, with his fingers long and lean, Had strangled him in fiendish spleen : 160 But his awfiil mother he had in dread. And also his power was limited ; So he but soowl'd on the startled child. And darted through the forest wild ; The woodland brook he bounding cross'd, 168 And laugh'd, and shouted, ' Lost ! lost I lost ! ' Full sore amaz'd at the wondrous change. And frighten'd as a child might be, At the wild yell .and visage strange. And the dark words of gramarye. Hie child, amidst the forest bower, 170 nij TH« lAT OF THK lABT MtarrtLZL. Stood rooted like a lily flower ; And when at length with trembling pwe, He sought to find where Branksome lay, He fear'd to see that grisly face Glare from some thicket on his way. Thus, starting oft, he joumey'd on, And deeper in the wood is gone,— For aye the more he sought hLs way. The farther still he went astray, Until he heard the mountains round King to the baying of a hound. 39 175 180 And hark I and hark ! the deep-mouth'd bark Comes nigher still and nigher : Bursts on the path a dark blood-hound. His tawny muzzle track'd the ground, And his red eye shot fire. Soon as the wilder'd child saw he, He flew at him right furiouslie. I ween you would have seen with joy The bearing of the gallant boy, When, worthy of his noble sire, His wet cheek glow'd 'twixt fear and ire4-<: He faced the blood-hound manfully, And held hij little bat on high ; So fierce he struck, the dog, afraid. At cautious distance hoarsely bayed. But still in act to spring ; When dash'd an archer through the glade, And when he saw the hound was stayed, ' He drew his tough bow-string ; But a rough voice cried, ' Shoot not, hoy I Ho ! shoot not, Edward— 'tis a boy !' 185 190 IM 300 40 SOOTT. [Cakto nia speaker issued from the wood, And check'd his fellov's surly mood, SH And quell'd the ban-dog's ir« : He was an English yeoman good, And born in Lancashire. Well could he hit a fallow-deer Five hundred feet him fro ; 810 With hand more true, and eye more clear, No gircher bended bow. His coal-black hair, shorn round and close, Set off his sun-burn'd face : Old England's sign, St. (George's cross, 315 His barret-cap did grace ; His bugle-horn hung by his side. All in a wolf-skin baldric tied : And his short falchion, sharp and clear, Had pierced the throat of many a deer. 390 jam. His kirtl^made of forest green, ''Ci«M''»*« Reach'd scautly to his knee ; _ And, at his belt, of arrows ^es si „^^/i,a.^a^ A furbisKysheaf bore he ; His bucklerv scarce in breadth a span, 93S Ko largeXfence had he ; He never counted him a man. Would strike below the knee : His slacken'd bow was in his hand, And the leash that was his blood-hound's band. 230 JUUU- He would not do the fair child harm. But held him with his powerful arm, BL] TBI LAT OP TBI LAST MIlinBU.. That be might neither fight nor 6ee ; For when the Red-Croes spied he, The boy strove long and violently. ' Now, by St. Oeorge,' the archer cries, ' Edward, methinks we have a prize ! This boy's fair face and courage free Show he is come of high degree.' ' Yes ! I am come of higir degree. For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch ; And, if thou dost not set me free. False Southron, thou shult dearly rue ! For Walter of Harden shall come with speed. And William of Deloraine, good at need, And every Scott from Esk to Tweed ; And, if thou dost not let me go, Despite thy arrows and thy bow , I'll have thee hang'd to feed the crow ! ' Q 23S iiS> 245 ' Gramercy, for thy good- will, fair boy ! My mind was never set so high : But if thou art chief of such a clan, And art the son of such a man. And ever comest to thy command, Our wardens had need to keep good order ; My bow of yew to a hazel ward, Thou'lt make them work upo. the Border, lleantime, be pleased to come with me, For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see ; I think our work is well begun, When we have taken thy father's son.' 250 256 260 43 [Carto Although the child was led away, In Branksome Btill he geem'd to staj, For so the dwarf his part did play ; And, ic the shape of that young boy, He wrought the castle much annoy. The comrades of the young Buccleuch He pinch'd and beat and overthrew ; Nay, some of them he wellnigh slew. He tore Dame Maudlin's silken tire, And, as Sym Hall stood t>y the fire, He lighted the match of his bandelier. And wofully scorch'd the hackbuteer. It may be hardly thought or said. The mischief that the urchin made, Till many of the castle guess'd That the young Baron was possess'd I MS 970 srs Well I ween the charm he held The noble Ladye had soon dispell'd ; But she was deeply busied then To tend the wounded Deloraine. Much she wonder'd to find him lie On the atone threshold stretch'd along ; ^^ ^0^0" She thought some spirit of the ^i^- C" •^^j^.J^^^x^ Had done the bold moss-troo|wr wrong, Because, despite her precepfTlread, Perchance he in the book had read ; But the broken lance in his bosom stood. And it was earthly steel and wood. fW 28S Htf TBI LAY OF TBI LA8T HINgTRKL. 43 She drew the splinter from the wound, And with a charm she stanch'd the blood ; She bade the gash be cleansed and bound : No longer hy his couch she stood ; But she has ta'en the broken lance, And wash'd it from the clotted gore, Ai^ yt'^Bli **'° ffFl'l*^*" o'er and o'er. William of Deloraine in trance. Whene'er she tum'd it round and round. Twisted as if she gall'd his wound. Then to her maidens she did say That he should be whole man and sound Within the course of a night and day. Full long she toil'd, for she did rjig^ Miah^ ts friend so stoat and true. 390 2W 300 XXIV. So pam'd the day — the erening fell, 306 Twas near the time of curfew bdl ; The air was mild, the wind was calm. The stream was smooth, the dew was balm ; E'en the rude watchman on the tower Enjoy'd and bless'd the lovely hour. 310 Far more fair Margaret loved and Itlees'd The hour of silence and at rest. On the high turret sitting lone. She waked at times the lute's soft tone ; Tonch'd a wild note, and all between 316 Thought of tlie bower of hawthorns green. Her goideu hair straam'd free from band. Her fair cheek rested on her hand. Her blue eyes sought the west afar. For lovers love the waatem star. 320 >SatE2^Bf; .^AKoa'T^Saatmii. 44 •OOTT. [Cahto It yon the star, o'er Penchr7«t Pen, Tluit riiei alovly to her ken, And, Hpreading broad its wavering light. Shakes its loose tresses on the night 1 Is yon red glare the western star t — Oh ! 'tis the beacon-blaze of war I Scarce could she draw her tigfaten'd b jath, For well she knew the fire of death ! ZZ,TI. The warder view'd it blazing strong, And blew his war-note load and long, Till, at the high and haughty sound, Rock, wood, and river rung around. The blast alann'd the featol hall, And startled forth the warriors all ; Far downward in the castle-yard Full many a torch and cresset glared ; And helms and plumes, confusedly toss'd, Were in the blaze half-seen, half-lost ; And spears in wild disorder shook. Like reeds beside a frozen brook. >M ZZTII. The Seneschal, whose silver hair Was redden'd by the torches' glare, Stood in the midst, with gesture proud. And issued forth his mandates loud : 'On Pencfaryst glows a bale of fire, And three are kindling on Priesthaughswire : Kide out, ride out, 1^ foe to scout ! 346 m TBI LAT OF TBI UVT MIMITBIL. Mount, mount for Bnnkiome, every man 1 Thou, Todrig, warn the Johnatone oUn, That erer tn true and stout Ye need not (end to Liddeidale ; For when they see the bluing bale, SUiota and Armstrongs never laii — Ride, Alton, ride, for death and life t And warn the Warder of the strife. Young Oilbett, let our bea<. -i bfaue Oar kin and clan and friends to raise.' 300 36S Fair Margaret from the turret head Heaixl, far below, the coursers' tread, While loud the harness rung. As to their seats with clamour dread The ready horsemen sprung : And trampling hoofs, and iron ooats. And leaders' voices mingled notes, And out ! and out ! y In hasty routr^ 2ib. Till high DttnedilTThe t>lazes saw Fnnn Soltra and DompeMer Law ; And Lothian heard the Regent's order That all should bowne them for the Border. ii-i.-^i'-V j^ The livelong night in Branksome rang The ceaseless sound of steel ; The castle-bell with backward clang Sent forth the larom peal ; Was frequent heard the heavy jar, Where massy stone and iron bar Were piled on echoing keep and tower. To whelm the foe with deadly shower ; Was frequent heard the changing guard, And watch-word from the sleepless ward ; While, wearied by the endless din, Blood-hound and ban-dog yell'd within. 396 400 The noble dame, amid the broil. Shared the gray seneschal's high toil. And spoke of danger with a smile ; Cheer'd the young knights, and council sage 40B JO.] TMC LAI or THE LAtT MIMITRBL. Held with the ohiefi of riper age. No tiding! of the foe were brought, Kor of hU numben knew they aught, Nor what in time of truce he sought. Some laid that there were thouunda ten ; And othen ween'd that it was nought But Leven Clans or Tynedale men, Who came to gather in black-mail ; And liddesdale, with small avail. Might drive them lightly back agen. So pass'd the anxious night away, welcome was the peep of day. JO. 410 416 430 Cbabid the hig^sound — the listening throng Applaud the MasteK^ the Song ; And marvel much, inNulpless age. So hard should be his pU Had he no friend — no dau^ftter dear. His wandering toil to share aid cheer t No son to be his father's stay. And guide him on the rugged way t ' Ay, once he had — but he was dead ! ' Upon the harp he stoop'd his head, And busied himself the strings withal, To hide the tear that fain would fall. In solemn measure, soft and slow, Arose a father's notes of woe. 4S8 4ao MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TKT CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2} A APPLIED IM/^GE ii B— '^ 1653 East Main Street ^S Rochester. New York U609 USA ^= <716) 482 - 0300 - Phone ^E ("6) 288-5989 - Fo» 48 [Canto CANTO FOURTH SwKET Teviot ! on thy silver tide The glaring bale-fires blaze no more; No longer steel-clad warriors ride Along thy wild and willow'd shore ; Where'er thou wind'st by dale or hill, All, all is peaceful, all is still, As if thy waves, since time was bom. Since first they roll'd ripon the Tweed, Had only heard the shepherd's reed. Nor started at the bugle-horn. 10 Unlike the tide of human time. Which, though it change in ceaseless flow, Betains each grief, retains each crime Its earliest course was doom'd to know ; And, darker as it downward bears, IB Is stain'd with past and present tears. Low as that tide has elyh'd j» it.h me. It still reflects to memory's eye The hour my brave, my only boy Fell by the side of great Dundee, i^ ^ JO Why, when the volleying musket play'd Against the bloody Highland blade. Why was not I beside him laid !— Enough— he died the death of fame ; Enough — he died with conquering Graeme. 36 IV.J THE LAY OF TH« LAST MIKSTREL. m. Now over Border, dale and fell, Full wide and far was terror spread j For pathless marsh and mountain cell, The peasant left his lowly shed. The frighten'd flocks and herds were pent Beneath the peel's rude battlement ; And maids and matrons dropp'd the tear. While ready warriors seized the spear. From Branksome's towers the watchman's eye Dun wreaths of distant smoke can spy, Which, curling in the rising sun, Show'd Southern ravage was begun. IV. Now loud the heedful gate-ward cried : ' Prepare ye all for blows and blood I Watt Tinlinn, from the Liddel-side, Comes wading through the flood. Full oft the Tynedale snatohers knock At his lone gate and prove the lock ; It was but last St. fiamabright They sieged him a whole summer night, But fled at morning ; well they knew, In vain he never twang'd the yew. Right sharp has been the evening shower That drove him from his Liddel tower; And, by my faith,' the gate-ward said, ' I think 'twill prove a Warden-Raid.' ^. 36 40 45 6P While thus he spoke, the bold yeoman Enter'd the echoing barbican. He led a small and shaggy nag, 4 ® That through a bog from hag to hag, Could bound like any Billhope stag. It bore his wife and children twain ; A half-clothed serf was all their train ; His wife, stout, ruddy, and dark-brow'd. Of silver brooch and bracelet proud, Laugh'd to her friends among the crowd. He was of stature passing tall. But sparely form'd and lean withal ; A batter'd morion on his brow ; A leather jack, as fence enow. On his broad shoulders loosely hung ; A Border axe behind was slung ; His spear, six Scottish fells in length, Seem'd newly dyed with gore ; His shafts and bow, of wondrous strength. His hardy partner bore. VI. Thus to the Ladye did Tinlinn show The tidings of the English foe : ' Belted Will Howard is marching here. And hot Lord Dacre, with many a spear, And all the German hackbut-men, Who hare long lain at Askerten : They cross'd the Liddel at curfew hour. And bum'd my little lonely tower — The fiend receive their souls therefor ! It had not been burnt this year and more. Barn-yard and dwelling, blazing bright, Served to guide me on my flight ; But I was chased the livelong night. Black John of Akeshaw and Fergus Gneme Fast upon my trices came, [Camto 00 60 65 78 80 6S JU TH« LAY OP THB lAgT MIHOTRm. Until I turn'd at Priesthangh Scrogg, • And shot their horses in the bog, Slew Fergus with my lance outright I had him long at high despite : He drove my cows last Fastem's night." 51 90 VII. Now weary scouts from Liddesdale, Fast hurrying in, oonfirm'd the tale; As far as they could judge by ken. Three hours would bring to Teviot's strand Three thouaand arm..W li!»gi;„hnifn Meanwhile, full many a wariike band. From Teviot, Aiil, and Ettrick «h«4» , Came in, their chiefs defence to aid. There was saddling and mounting in haste, There was pricking o'er moor and lea ; He that was last at the trysting-place Was but lightly held o^iis g^y ladye. 95 100 Prom fair St. Mary's silver wave, From dreary Gamescleugh's dusky height. His ready lances Thirlestane brave Array'd beneath a banner bright. The tressured fleur-de-luce he claims To wreathe his shield, since royal James, Encamp'd I" "ala's mossy wave. The proud • action grateful gave For faith 'mid feudal jars ; What time, save Thirlestane alone. Of Scotland's stubborn barons none 108 110 S3 lOOTT. [Cahto Would march to southern wars ; 115 And hence, in fair remembrance worn, Yon sheaf of spears his crest has borne ; Hence his high motto shines reveal'd, j_£.^^ .A.^^ ' Ready, aye ready,' for the field. "^^^-^i,^ «• p. An aged knight to danger 8tggj;|d, •'^^p^C^ar y'^ai— ririi| firm and slow. Moved on to light in darl array By Conrad led of Wolfenstein, Who brought the band from distant Rhine, And sold their blood for foreign pay. 315 The camp their home, their law the sword, They knew no country, own'd no lord : They were not arm'd like England's sons, But bore the |f"""".^°'tiijx|r guns ; Buff coats, all frounced and 'broider'd o'er, 320 And morsing-horns and scarfs they wore; Each better knee was bared, to aid The warriors in the escalade , All, as they march'f.', in rugged tongue, Songs of Teutonic feuds they sung. S2S But louder still the clamour grew. And louder still the minstrels blew. When, from beneath the greenwood trea^ IV.] TBI LAY or TUB LAW MINITRKU Ko; 4) Say to your lords of high emprize, Who war on women and on boys, 436 That either William of Deloraine Will cleanse him by oath of march-treason stain, Or else he will the combat take 'Gainst Musgrave for his honour's sake. No knight in Cumberland so good, 440 But William may count with him kin and blood. Knighthood he took of Douglas' sword, When English blood swell'd Ancram's ford ; And but Lord Dacre's steed was wight, And bare him ably in the flight, 446 Himself had seen him dubb'd a knight For the young heir of Branksome's line^ rv. THS tAT OF THE LAST lIlNgTBW,. God be his aid, and God be mine ; Through me no friend shall meet his doom ; Here, while I live, no foe finds room. Then, if thy lords their purpose urge. Take our defiance loud and high ; Our slogan is their lyke-wake dirge, Our moat the grave where they shall lie.' 63 460 IXVII. Proud she look'd round, applause to claim- Then lighten'd Thirlestane's eye of flame j- His bugle Wat of Harden blew; Pensils and pennons wide were flun^ To heaven the Border slogan rung, ' St. Mary for the young Buccleuchl' The English war-cry answer'd wide, And forward bent each Southern spear; Each Kendal archer made a stride, And drew the bowstring to his ear ; Each minstrel's war-note loud was blown ;— But, ere a gray-goose shaft had flown, A horseman gallop'd from the rear. IIVIII. ' Ah ! noble Lords ! ' he breathless said, ' What treason has your march betray'd t What make you here from aid so far, Before you walls, around you war? Your foemen triumph in the thought That in the toils the lion's caught Already on dark Ruberslaw The DniifflM hn^,, ^j^ wpnpnn nrhirr^ The lances, waving in his train, 45B 460 465 g(/go*^f^ 470 47S SCOTT. [CaMTO Clothe the dun heath like autumn grain ; Ji^^c/ y^hti,^MfiC^ on the Liddel'g northern strand, To bar retreat to Cumberland, y^ Lord^^ Maxwe ll ranks his merrymen good, 480 Q^aC/^t^eH/msalCti the eagle and the rood ; And Jedwood, Tg«lra, xnA Tavinl^lnlji^ Have to proud ^ngns come ; And all the Merse anc' Lauderdale Have risen with hmighty Fnma 4(5 ■ An exile from Northumberland, In Liddesdale I've wander'd long ; But still my heart wag with merry England, And cannot brook my country's wrong ; And hard I've spurr'd all night to show 490 The mustoring of coming foe.' ' And let them come !' fierce Dacre cried ; ' For soon yon crest, my father's pride, That swept the shores of Judah's sea. And waved in gales of Galilee, 495 From Branksome's highest towers displi.y'd, Shall mock the rescue's lingering aid I — Level each harquebuss on row ; Draw, merry archers, draw the bow ; Up, bill-men, to the walls, and cry, 600 Dacre for England, win or die ! ' — 'Yet hear,' quoth Howard, 'calmly hear. Nor deem my words the words of fear : For who, in field or foray slack. Saw the blanche lion e'er faJi back t SOS Bat thus to risk oar Boijj^ flower U^ TBI t,AT or TBI LAST MimTBBU In strife against a kingdom's power, Ten thousand Scots 'gainst thousands three, Certes, were desperate policy. Nay, take the terms the Ladye made Era conscious of the adrancing aid : Let Musgrave meet fierce Deloraine In single fight, and if he gain. He gains for us ; but if he's cross'd, Tis but a single warrior lost : The rest, retreating as they came, Avoid defeat and death and shame.' 66 610 616 ni could the haughty Dacre brook His brother warden's sage rebuke ; And yet his forward step he staid. And slow and sullenly obeyed. But ne'er again the Border side Did these two lords in friendship ride ; And this slight discontent, men say. Cost blood upon another day. S20 62S The pursuivsnt^t^rms again Before the castle took his stand ; His trumpet call'd with parleying strain The leaders of the Scottish band ; And he defied, in Musgrave's right. Stout Deloraine to single fight ; A gauntlet at their feet he laid, And thus the terms of fight he said : 630 6S man. ' If in the lists good Musgrave's sword Vanquish the Knight of Deloraine, Your youthful chieftain, Branksome's lord, Shall hostage for his clan remain : If Deloraine foil good Husgrave, The boy his liberty shall hava Howe'er it falls, the English band, Unharming Scots, by Scots unharm'd, In peaceful march, like men unarm'd, Shall straight retreat to Cumberland.' [Oa 535 540 Unconscious of the near relief. The proffer pleased each Scottish chief, Though much the Ladye sage gainsay'd ; For though their hearts were brave and true, /^ g^t ri f^-""- Jedwood's recent sack they knew j'rt: IIl ir*»BiTr tnrdi — ^n *^o ^ffr')*'" "'^ • '. And you may guess the noble dame Durst not the secret prescienc own, C«»i '~J Sprung from the art she might not name, -/^ »r^» ^y *Wch the coming help was known. K Closed was the compact, and agreed That lists should be enclosed with speed Beneath the castle on a lawn : They fix'd the morrow for the strife, On foot, with Scottish axe and knife, At the fourth hour from peep of dawn ; When Deloraine, from sickness freed, Or else a champion in his stead, Should for himself and chieftain stand Against stout Musgrave, hand to hand. 045 560 565 660 "X" IV. i TBI LAT or THE LAST MINIITREU 67 I know right well that in their lay Full many minstrels sing and say, 560 S'lch combat should be made on horse, On foaming steed, in full career. With brand to aid, whenas the spear Should shiver in the course : But he, tho jovial harper, taught 870 Me, yet a youth, how it was fought. In guise which now I say ; He knew each ordinance and clause Of Black Lord Archibald's battle-laws. In the old Douglas' day. (75 He brook'd not, he, that scoffing tongue Should tax his minstrelsy with wrong. Or call his song untrue : For this, when they the goblet plied. And such rude taunt had chafed his pride, 680 The bard of ReuU he slew. On Teviot's side in fight they stood. And tuneful hands were stain'd with blood ; Where still the thorn's white branches wave. Memorial o'er his rival's grave. 686 Why should I tell the rigid doom That dragg'd my master to his tomb ; How Ousenam's maidens tore their hair, Wept till their eyes were dead and dim. And wrung their hands for love of him Who died at Jedwood Airt He died ! — his scholars, one by one. To the cold silent grave are gone , And I, alas ! survive alone, 690 S8 lOOTT. To mine o'er rivalrie* of yore, And grieve that I shall hear no more The strains, with envy heard before ; For, with my minstrel brethren fled, . My jealousy of song is dead. . [CAarn 69S Hb paused : the listening dames again 400 Applaud the hoary Minstrel's strain. With many a word of kindly cheer, — In pity half, and half sincere, — Marvell'd the Duchess how so well His legendary song cquld tell 606 Of ancient deeds, so long forgot ; Of feuds, whose memory was not ; Of forests, now laid waste and bare ; Of towers, which harbour now the hare ; Of manners, long since clianged and gone ; 610 Of chiefs, who under their gray stone !£'> long had slept that fickle fame Had blotted from her rolls their name. And twined round some new minion's head The fading wreath for which they bled ; 61 B In sooth, 'twas strange this old man's verse Could call them from their marble hearse. The Harper smiled well pleased ; for ne'er Was flattery lost on poet's ear : A sim|>le race ! they waste their toil 680 For the vain tribute of a smile ; E'en when in age their flame expires. Her dulcet breath can fan its fires : Their drooping fancy wakes at praise. And strives to trim the short-lived blaze. 626 Smiled, then, well-pleased, the aged mMi, And thus his tale continued ran. v.t IBSJk^-0*-*Kltj!4b!IXJII><*TB>U 69 IJANTlt li'lliTH Call it not vain : — they do not err, Who say that when the poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies : Who say tall cliff and cavern lone. For the departed bard make moan ; ' That mountains weep in crystal r 11 j That flowers in tears of balm distil ; Through his loved groves that breezes sigh. And oaks in deeper groan reply ; And rivers teach their rushing wave To murmur dirges round his grave. 10 Not that in sooui o'er mortal urn Those things inanimate can mourn ; But that the stream, the wood, the gale, 16 Is vocal with the plaintive wail Of those who, else forgotten long. Lived in the poet's faithful song, And, with the poet's parting breath. Whose memory feels a second death. ,. / 20 The maid's pale shade, who wails her lot, Tliat love, true love, should be forgot. From rose and hawthorn shakes the tear TTpon the gentle minstrel's bier : The phantom knight, his glory fled, 25 Monms o'er the field he heap'd with dead ; Mounts the wild biast loat sweeps amain. K •OOTT. And ihrieVa along the battle-pUin. The chief, whose antique crownlet long Still »parkled in the fr udal eong, Now, from the mountain's misty throne, Sees, in the thanedom once his own. His ashes undistinguished lie. His place, his power, his memory die ; His groans the lonely caverns fill, His tears of rage impel the rill ; All mourn the minstrel's harp unstrung. Their name unknown, their praise unsung. [OAim* Scarcely the hot assault was staid. The terms of truce were scarcely made. When they could spy, from Branksome's towers. The advancing march of martial powers. Thi-k clouds of dust ai'ar appear'd, And trampling steeds were faintly heard ; Bright spears above the columns dun Glanced momentary to the sun ; And feudal banners fair display'd The bands that moved to Branksome's aid. 40 Vails not to tell each hardy clan, From the fair Middle Marches came ; — / The Bloody Heart blazed in the van, '^'^'y / Announcing Douglas, dreaded name I t-/6 o/' '^)^^ftils not to tell what steeds did spurn. Where the Seven Spears of Wedderbume Their men in battle-order set j And Swinton laid the lance in rest 00 w n TBI LAT or TRI LAIT MINSTMRL. il That tamed of yore the sparkling crest .Of Clarence'! Plantagenet O-'**'^ Nor lilt I lay what hundreds more, From the rich Merse and Lammermore^ And Tweed's fair borders to the war, Beneath the crest of Old Dunbar, And Hepburn's mingled banners come. Deep the steep mountain glittering far. And shouting still, 'A Home ! a Home ! ' 60 6B Now squire and knight from Branksome sent. On many a courteous message went ; To every chief and lord they paid Meet thanks for prompt and povv erf ul aid^ And told them, how a truce was made, — -' And how a day of fight was ta'en Twizt Musgrave and stout Deloraine, And how the Ladye pray'd them dear That all would stay the fight to see. And deign, in love and courtesy, -l^/-/ To taste of Branksome cheer. Nor, while they bade to feast each Scot, Were Fngland's noble lords forgot. Himself, the hoary Seneschal, Rode forth, in seemly terms to call Those gallant foes to Branksome Hall. Accepted Howard, than whom knight < /r Was never dubb'd, more bold in fight ; Nor, when from war and armour free. Mora famef^ fnr 'to^^ly ^..-t^.j, • But angry Dacre rather chose In his pavilion to repose. >./;3tD. ■//^ A, 80 i ^j-M:.^^ 86 ?l WOTTi [QlflO Now, noble d«me, peroh»noe you Mk, How these two hoitile »niiie« met, Deeming ere no tmity twk To keep the truce which here wm Mt; Where martial epirite, all on fire. Breathed only blood aad mortal ire. ^^w By mutual inroada, mutual blowi. By habit, and by nation, foes, They met on Teviot'e atrand ; They met and sate them mingled down, Without a threat, without a frown, As brothers meet in foreign land ; The hands, the spear that lately grasp'd, Still in the mailed gauntlet clasp'd, Wore interehangeil in greeting dear ; Visors were raised and faces shown, And /-^/' t5 100 nd many a friend, to friend qi4de knpwy^ Partook of social cheer. ^ '' ' ' ^ ^ ' (^ 108 / Some drove the jolly bowl about ; With dice and draughts some chased the day And some, with many a ;nerry shout. In riot, revelry, and rout, Punued the foot-ball play. Tet, be it known, had bugles blown Or sign of war been seen, Those bands, so fair together ranged, Those hands, so frankly interchanged, Had dyed with gore the green : The merry shout by Teviot-side Had sunk in war-cries wild and wide. lis ▼J m L4T or TM LAIT MIKtniU. And in the grew of death ; And whingen, now in (riemlihip bara, The sooial meal to part end share. Had found a bloody iheath. Twixt tnioe and war, luch Hudden change Waa not infrequent, nor held itrange, In the old Border-day : But yet on Branksome'i towen and town, In peaceful merriment, sunk down The sun's declining ray. /r4^t^ 73 130 12S The blithesome signs of wasHel gay \ Deoay'd not with the dying day : Boon through the latticed windows tall ISO Of lofty Branksome's lordly hall, Divided square by sh&fts of stone. Huge flakes of ruddy lustre shone ; Nor less the gilded rafters rang With merry harp and beakers' clang : 18S And frequent, on the darkening plain, Loud hollo, whoop, or whistle ran, Ab bands, their stragglers to>egain, Qive the shrill watchword of their clan ; And revellers, o'er their IiowIh, proclaim 140 Douglas' or Docre's conquering name. Less frequeat heard, and fainter still. At length the various clamours died : And you might hear from Branksome hill No sound but Teviot's rushing tide ; Save when the changing sentinel The challenge of his watch could tell ; 146 74 [Ca ;V-'r^ And save where, through the dark profound, The clanging axe and hrmmer's souad Rung from the nether lawn ; f -'' ' For many a busy hand toil'd there, 'Strong pales to shape and beams to square, The lists' dread barriers to prepare Against the morrow's dawn. 160 UQ- ^. } Margaret from hall did soon retreat. Despite the dame's reproving eye ; Nor mark'd she, as she left her seat. Full many a stifled sigh ; For many a noble warrior strove To win the Flower of Teviot's love. And many a bold ally. With throbbing head and anxious heart, All in her lonely bower apart, In broken sleep she lay : By nmes, from silken couch she rose; While yet the bannSPd hosts repose,^ ■ She view'd the dawning day : Of all the hundreds sunk to rest, First woke the loveliest and the beat. "'T 16S 160 16S She gazed upon the inner \a%-^^'- '" Which in the tower's tall shadow lay. Where coursers' clang and stamp and suort Had rung the livelong yesterday ; Now still as death ; till sUlking slow,— The jingling spurs announced his tread, — A stately warrior pass'd below ; 170 175 n THB LAY OF THB LAST HINSTBIU 76 fiut when he raised his plumed head — Blessed Mary ! can it be 1 — Secure, as if in Ousenam bowers, He walks through Branksome's hostile towers, With fearless step and free. She dared not sign, she dared not speak — Oh ! if one page's slumbers break, His blood the price must pay ! Not all the pearls Queen Mary wears, Not Margaret's yet more precious tears. Shall buy his life a day. 180 185 ZIL Yet was his hazard small ; for well You may bethink you of the spell Of that sly urchin page ; _. /■,> <^' This to his lord he did impar t. ^ (*-< And made him seem, by glamor art, A knight from Hermitage. Unchallenged thus, the warder's post. The court, unchallenged, thus he cross'd. For all the vassalage : But Oh ! what magic's quaint disguise Could blind fair Margaret's azure eyes ! She started from her seat ; While with surprise and fear she strove. And both could scarcely master love — Lord Henry's at her feet. J ..w^^ty H.. 19S 200 Oft have I mused what purpose bad That foul malicious urchin had To bring this meeting round ; For happy love's a heavenly sight, 206 76 soorr. ~^iM And by a vile malignant sprite In such no joy is found ; And oft I've deem'd, perchance he thought Their erring passion might have wrought Sorrow and sin and shame, And death to Cranstoun's gallant knight, And to the gentle ladye bright. Disgrace and loss of fame. But earthly spirit could not tell The heart of them that loved so well. /TTrue love's the gift which God has given \To man alone beneath 'the heaven : ^ It is not fantasy's hot fire, / Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly ; [ It liveth not in fierce desire, \ With dead desire it doth not die ; / It is the secret sympathy, I The silver link, the silken tie, \ Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, / In body and in soul can bind. — ( Kow leave we Margaret and her knight, V To tell you of the approaching fight. [Caxto 210 216 220 226 1 Their warning blasts Ao^bugles blew, The pipe's shrilf^rt aroused each clan : In haste the deadly strife to view. The trooping warriors eager ran : Thick round the lists their lances stood, Like blasted pines in Ettrick wood ; To Branksome Liany a look they threw, The combatajjt^smproach to view. And bandira n^E^ a word of boast About the knight each favour'd most 230 236 y] TBB LAY OF THK LAST MIHSTRIL. (9 Meantime full anxious was the dame ; For now arose disputed claim Of who should fight for Deloraine, Twixt Harden and 'twixt Thirlestaine : They 'gan t/O reckon kin and rent, - / ' And frowning brow on brow was bent ; But yet n long the strife^for, lo ! Himself, the knight of Deloraine, Strong, as it seem'd, and free from pain. In armour sheath'd from top to toe, Appear'd and craved the combat due. The dame her charm successful knew, And the fierce chiefs their claims withdrew. ^ 260 When for the lists they sought the plain, The stately Ladye's silken rein Did noble Howard hold ; Unarmed by her side he walk'd, 256 And much in courteous phrase they talk'd Of feats of arms of old. Costly his garb— his Flemish ruff Fell o'er his doublet, shaped of buff, With satin slash'd and lined ; 260 Tawny his boot, and gold his spur, His cloak was all of Poland fur, His hose with silver twined ; His Bilboa blade, by Marohmen felt, Hung in a broad and studded belt ; 266 Hence, in rude phrase, the Borderers still Call'd noble Howard, Belted Will 78 [Cahto Behind Lord Howard and the dame, Fair Margaret on her palfrey came, Whose foot-cloth swept the ground : White was her wimple and her veil, And her loose locks a chaplet pale Of whitest roses bound ; The lordly Angus, by her side. In courtesy to cheer her tried ; Without his aid, her hand in vain Had strove to guide her broider'd rein. He deem'd she shudder'd at the sight Of warriors met for mortal fight ; But cause of terror, all unguess'd. Was flattering in hei gentle breast, When, in their chairs of crimson placed, The dame and she the barriers graced. 270 276 280 Prize of the field, the young Buccleuch, An English knight led forth to view ; Scarce rued the boy his present plight, So much he long'd to see the fi^^ht. Within the lists in knightly pride High Home and haughty Dacre ride ; Their leading staffs of steel they wield. As marshals of the mortal field ; While to each knight their care assign'd Like vantage of the sun and wind. Then heralds hoarse did loud proclaim, In King and Queen, and Warden's name, That none, while lasts the strife, Should dare, by look or sign or word, 28S 290 296 V] TBS LAT OP TH« LAfT NINSTBU. Aid to a champion to afford, On peril of his life : And not a breath the silence broke Till thus the altematq^erald spoke : — 79 300 mrOLISH HKBALD. ' Here standeth Richard of Musgrare, Qood knight and true, and freely bom, Vmenda from Deloraine to crave, For foul despiteous scathe and scorn. He sayeth that William of Deloraine Is traitor false by Border laws ; Thij with his sword he will maintain. So help him Qod and his good cause 1 305 SaOTTISH HBRALD. 'Here Standeth William of Deloraine, 310 Good knight and true, of noble strain. Who sayeth that foul treason's stain. Since he bore arms, ne'er soil'd his coat; And that, so help him Qod above I He will on Musgrave's body prove^ 315 He lies most foully in his throat.' LORD DACRI. ■ Forward, brave champions, to the fight ! Sound trumpets 1 ' LORD BOME. ' God defend the right I '— Then Teviot ! how thine echoes rang, When bugle-sound and trumpet-olang 320 80 800R. Let looM the martial foes, And in mid list, with shield poised high. And measured step and wary eye. The combatants did dose I [Cakto . zxi. Ill would it suit your gentle ear, 32S Ye lovely listeners, to hear How to the axe the helms did sound, And blood pour'd down from many a wound ; For desperate was the strife and long, And either warrior fiehw and strong. 330 But, were each dame a listening knight, I well could tell how warriors fight ; For I have seen war's lightning flashing, Seen the claymore with bayonet clashing. Seen through red blood the war-horse dashing, ,^a3fi And scorn'd, amid the reeling strife, To yield a step for death or life. — 'Tis done, 'tis done ! that fatal blow Has stretch'd him on the bloody plain ; He strives to rise — Brave Musgrave, no ! ^S l^ Thence never shalt thou rise again ! He chokes in blood - some friendly hand Undo the visor's barred band. Unfix the gorget's iron clasp. And give him room for life to gasp ! — JiU; O, bootless aid ! — haste, holy friar, Haste, ere the sinner shall expire ! Of all his guilt let him be shriven. And smooth his path from earth to heaven 1 ▼:1 TBI LAY or TBI LAtT MIMIITBIL. 81 XXUL In haste the holy friar sped ; — His naked foot was dyed with red, As through the lists he ran ; ITnmindfnl of the shouts on high That hail'd the conqueror's victory, He raised the dying man ; Loose waved his silver beard and hair, As o'er him he kneel'd down in prayer ; And still the crucifix on high He holds before his darkening eye ; And still he bends an anxious ear, His faltering penitence to hear ; Still props him from the bloody sod, Still, even when soul and body part, Pours ghostly comfort on his heart. And bids him trust in Ood ! Unheard he prays ; — the death-pang's o'er I Richard of Musgrave breathes no more. As if exhausted in the fight, Or musing o'er the piteous sight, The silent victor stands ; His beaver did he not unclasp, Mark'd not the shouts, felt not the grasp Of ji^tulating hands. When lo ! strange cries of wild surprise. Mingled with seeming terror, rise Among the Scottish bands ; And all, amid the throng'd arrciy, In panic haste gave open way To a half-naked ghastly man, Who downward from the castle ran : e 380 35S 360 380 83 [CAHro He croH'd the barriers at a bound, And wild and haggard look'd around, As dizzy and in pain ; And all upon the armed ground Knew William of Deloraine ! Each ladye 8^>rung from aeat with speed ; Vaulted each nt^rshal from his steed ; 'And who art tl'ou,' they cried, ' Who hast this batti) fought and wonl' His plumed helm was soon undone — < Cranstoun of Teviot-side ! For this fair prize I've,fougLi< and won,' And to the Ladye led her son. S86 S90 Full oft the rescued boy she kiss'd. And often press'd him to her breast ; For, under all her dauntless show. Her heart had throbb'd at every blow ; " |,j^ . ., Yet not Lord Cranstou n dei gn'd she greet, Though low he kneeled at her feet. Me lists not tell what words were made. What Douglas, Home, and Howard said — — For Howard was a generous foe — And how the clan united prayd The Ladye would the feud forego, . I. i. i The wily page, with vringeful thought, Remember'd him of Tinlinn's yew, And swore it should be dearly bought That ever he the arrow drew. First, he the yeoman did molest 160 W ith bitter gi be and taunting jest ; ^roI3 how hsaed at Solway strife, And how Hob Armstrong cheer'd his wife ; Then, shunning still his powerful arm, At unawares he wrought him harm ; 166 From trencher stole his choicest cheer, Dash'd from his lips his can of beer ; Then, to his knee sly creeping on. With bodkin pierced him to the bone : The venom'd wound and festering joint 170 Long after rued that bodkin's point. The startled yeoman swore and spum'd. And board and flagons overtum'd. Riot and clamour wild began ; Back to the hail the urchin ran ; 176 Took in a darkling nook his post. And grinn'd, and mutter'd, ' Lost ! lost ! tort ! ' VI.] THK LAT or THB LAW MlKgTKEL. 93 By this, the dame, lest farther fray Should mar the concord -f the day, Had bid the minstrels tune their lay. And first stept forth old Albert Gneme, Tlie minstrel of that ancient name : Was none who struck the harp so well, Within the Land Debateable ; Well friended too, his hardy kin, Whoever lost, were sure to win ; They sought the beeves that made their broth, In Scotland and in England both. In homely guise, as nature bade. His simple song the Borderer said. 180 186 190 XI. ALBERT ORXMI. It was an English ladye bright, (The sun shines fair on Cariisle wall,) And she would marry a Scottish knight. For Love will gtill be lord of all. Blithely they saw the rising sun 195 When he shone fair on Carlisle wall ; But they were sad ere day was done^ Though Love was still the lord of all. Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall ; 20O Her brother gave but a flask of wine, I or ire that Love was lord of all. For she had lands both meadow and lea. Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, And he swore her death, ere he would see 20S A Scottish knight the lord of aU. M [Caxto That wine she had not tasted well, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) When dead, in her true love's arms, she fell, For Love was still the lord of all 1 210 He pierced her brother to the heart, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall :— - So perish all would true love part That Love may still be lord of all ! And then he took tho^ cross divine, 215 Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, And died for her sake in Palestine ; So Love was still the lord of all. Now all ye lovers, that faithful prove, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) S30 Pray for their souls who died for love. For Love shall still be lord of all I Aa ended Albert's simple lay, Arose a bard of loftier port ; For sonnet, rhyme, and roundelay Benown'd in haughty Henry's court : There rung thy harp, unrivall'd long, Fitztraver of the silver song I The gentle Surrey loved his lyre — Who has not heard of Surrey's fame I His was the hero's soul of fire, And his the bard's immortal name. And his was love, exalted high By all the glow of chivalry. 226 S30 VI.] TBI LAY or TBI LAST MIIIITIIII.. 90 XIV. They sooght together climes afar, JM And oft within some olive grove^ When even came with twinkling star, They suiig of Surrey's abwnt love. His step the Italian peasant stay'd, And deem'd that spirits from on high, 240 Bound where some hermit saint was laid, Were breathing heavenly melody ; 80 sweet did harp and voice combine, To praise the name of Oeraldine. XT. Fitztraver ! Oh, what tongue may say 248 The pangs thy faithful bosom knew, When Surrey of the deathless lay • Ungrateful Tudor's sentence slew } Regardless of the tyrant's frown. His harp call'd wrath and vengeance down. 260 He left, for Na worth's iron to ors, Windsor's green glades and courtly bowers, And, faithful to his patron's name, With Howard still Fitztraver came; ^ford William's foremost favourite he, 266 And chief of all bis minstrelsy. XVI. FITZTBATER. "Twas All-Souls' eve, and Surrey's heart beat high ;CJ He heard the midnight boll with anxious start, fa Which told the mystic hour, approaching nigh, a When wise Cornelius promised by his art b 260 To show to him the ladye of his heart, ^ Albeit betwixt them roir'd the ocean grim;C 96 [Camto I Yet lo the uge had bight to pUy hit part, 15 That he ihottld aee lier form in life and limb/g^ And mark, if still she loved and (till ahe thought of hiiD«^5 Dark was the vaulted room of gnmarye, ^ To which the wizard led the gallant knight,^ Save that before a mirror, huge and high, t^ A hallow'd taper shed a glimmering lightfe On mystic implements of magic might : ♦ 870 On cross, and character, and talisman.^. And almagest, and altaf, nothing bright O For fitful was the lustre, pale Epd wan, «^ A* watchlight by the bed of som>, d»!><-.rting man^ xvui. • But soon, within that mirror huge and high,^ 276 Was seen ^ self-emitted light to gleam ; ^ And forms upon its breast the Earl 'gan sfjfi. Cloudy and indistinct as feverish dream ;W Till, slow arranging and defined, they seemJk To form a lordly and a lofty room, 280 Part lighted by a lamp with silver beam, Placed by a couch of Agra's silken loom. And part by moonshine pale, and part was hid in gloom. Fair all the pageant— but how passing fair q The slender form which lay on couch of Ind h O'er her white bosom stray'd her hazel hair^ Pale her dear cheek, as if for love she pined fi All ill her night-robe loose she lay reclinedx And pensive read from tablet eburnine, ll Some strain that seem'd her inmost soul to fimUp 286 290 VI.] TM« tAT or TH« lAiT HIMITHBl. Th»t hvour'd UmiD wm Surrey'i raptured lina, That fair and lovely fo.in, the Lady Oeraldine. zz. Slow roll'd the oloudi upon the lovely form, a. And iwept the goodly vision all away-A So royal envy roll'd the murky itorm a 29B O'er my beloved Master's glorious day/9 Hiou jealous, ruthless tyrant I Heaven repay On thee, and on thy children's latest line, The wild caprice of thy despotic sway, The gory bridal bed, the plunder'd shrine, 300 The murder'd Surrey's blood, the tears of Oeraldine I Both Scots and Southern chiefs prolong Applauses of Fitztraver's song ; • These hated Henry's name as death. And those still held the ancient faith. 306 Then from his seat with lofty air^ Rose Harold, bard of brave St. Clair, St. Clair, who, feasting high at Home, Had with that lord to battle come. Harold was born where restless seas 810 Howl round the storm-swept Orcades ; Where erst St. Clairs held princely sway O'er isle and islet, strait and bay ; Still nods their palace to its fall. Thy pride and sorrow, fair KirkwaJI!— 318 Thence oft he mark'd fierce Pentland rave, As if grim Odin rode her wave ; And watch'd the whilst with visage pale. And throbbing heart, the struggling sail ; For all of wonderful and wild 320 Had rapture for the lonely child. 7 XXIL And much of wild and wonderful In these rude Ules might fancy cull ; For thither came in timei afar Stern Lochlin'i sona of roving war, 32S The Nomemon, train'd to spoil and blood, Skill'd to prepare the raven's food ; Kings of the main their leaders brave, Their barks the dragons of the wave. And there, in many a stormy vale, 330 The Scald had told hisi wondrous tale ; And many a Runic column high Had witnesg'd grim iilolatry. And thus had Harold in his youth Learn'd many a Saga's rhyme uncouth, — 336 Of that Sea-Snake, tremendous curl'd. Whose monstrous circle girds the world ; Of those dread Maids whose hideous yell Maddens the battle's bloody swell ; Of chiefs who, guided through the gloom 340 By the pale death-lighta of the tomb, Bansack'd the graves of warriors old. Their falchions wrench'd from corpses' hold. Waked the deaf tomb with war's alarms, And bade the dead arise to arms I 345 With war and wonder all on flame. To Boslin's bowers young Harold came, Where, by sweet glen and greenwood tree. He learn'd a milder minstrelsy ; V:!t something of the Northern spell 350 Mix'd with the softer numbers wdL 'l TBI LAT or TBI LA«T HINSTHU M !i XXIII. O liiten, Haton, ladies gay I No haughty feat of arnix I tell ; Soft u the note, and soU the luy, That mourns the lovely Ito«abelle. — ' Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew I And, gentle ladye, deign to stay ! BMt thee in Castle Ravensheucli, Nor tempt the stormjr^th^^di^ - ' The bl ackening wave is edged with white »-■' To jijgj am) rock the sea- ged wHji wlii ■pNs^l' 35n 360 The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite, Whose screams forebode that wreck ;s nig h. ' Last night the gifted Seer did view A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay ; Then stay thee, fair, in Ravensheuch : Why cross the gloomy firth to-day t'-» ' Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir To-night at Roslin leads the ball, But that my ladye-mother there Sits lonely in her castle-hall. ' Tis not because the ring they ride. And Lindesay at the ring rides well. But that my sire the wine will chide, If 'tis not mi'd by Rosabelle.'— O'er Roslin all that dreary night, A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ; Twas bi-oader than the watch-fire's light. And redder than the bright monn-beam. 365 370 376 100 [Cahio 380 It glared on Boslin's castled rock, It ruddied all the copse-wood glen j Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak. And seen from cavern'd Hawthomden. Seem'd all on fire that chapel prond Where Kosliii's chiefs uncoffin'd lie, 386 Each Baron, for a sable shroud, Sheathed in bis iron panoply. Seem'd all on fire within, around. Deep sacristy and altar's pale ; Shone every pillar foliage-bound, 390 And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail. Blazed battlement and pinnet high. Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair — So still they blaze when fate is nigh The lordly line of high St. Caair. 396 There are twenty of Boslin's barons bold Lie burieJ within that proud chapelle ; Each one the holy vault doth hold — But the sea holds lovely Bosabelle I And each St. Clair was buried there, *00 With candle, with book, and with knell j But the sea^»ve8 rung, and the wild winds sung. The dirge of lovely Bosabelle. So sweet was Harold's piteous lay, Scarce mark'd the guests the darken'd hall. Though, long before the sinking day, A wondrous shade involved them all : 406 VI.] IHl LAT OF THK LAST HIITSTRIL. .!t was not eddying mist or fog, Brain'd by the sun from fen or bog; Of no eclipse had sages told ; And yet, as it came on apace. Each one could scarce his neighbour's face. Could scarce his own stretch'd hand behold. A secret horror check'd the feast. And chill'd the soul of every guest; Even the high dame stood half aghast, S\e knew some evil on the blast; The elvish page fell to the ground. And, shuddering, mutter'd, ' Found 1 found I found!' ifii 410 416 Then sudden through the darken'd air 4f0 A flash of lightning came ; So broad, so bright, so red the glare The castle seem'd on flame. Glanced every rafter of the hall, Glanced every shield upon the wall ; 4^5 Each trophied beam, each sculptured stone. Were instant seen and instant gone ; Full through the guests' bedazzled baud Resistless flash'd the levin-brand, And-fill'd the hall with smouldering smoke, 430 As on the elvish page it broke. It broke with thunder long and loud, Dismay'd the brave, appall'd the proud,— From sea to sea the larum rung ; On Berwick wall, and at Carlisle withal, 43(5 To arms the startled warders sprung. When ended was the dreadful roar. The elvish dwarf was seen no more ! lOS [CAim; XXTI. Some heard a voice in Branksome Hall, Some saw a sight not seen by all ; 440 That dreadful voice was heard by some ' Cry, with loud summons, ■ Otlbin, comb ! ' And on the spot where burst the brand. Just where the page had flung him down. Some saw an arm, and some a hand, 448 And some the waring of a gown. The guests in silence prayed and shook. And terror dimm'd each lofty look. But none of al' t°ie ^tonished train Was so dismr.^ < as Deloraine : 4S0 His blood did freeze, his brain did bum, Twas fear'd his mind would ne'er return ; For he was speechless, ghastly, wan, Like him of whom the story ran. Who spoke the spectre-hound in Man. /'^p^ 466 At length, by fits, he darkly told. With broken hint, and shuddering cold. That he had seen, right certainly, A ihape wit/i lunice um^p'd around. With a wrought Spamiah baldrie bound, 4tO Like pilgrim from beyond the sea ; And knew — but how it matter'd not — It was the wizard, Uiohael Scott ^ tc The anxious crowd, with horror pale, All trembling heard the wondrous tale : Ko sound was made, no word was spoke, Till noble Angus silence broke ; And he a solemn sacred plight Dkl to St. Bride of Douglas m^e^ 465 VI.] THB LAV or THB LAtT llINgTIiaL. J^ That he a pilgrimage would take 470 To Melrose Abbey, for the sake Of Michael's restless s£ Then each, to ease his troubled breast. To some bless'd saint his prayers address'd : Some to St. Modan made their vows, 47S Some to St. Mary of the Lowes, Some to the Holy Rood of Lisle, Some to our la^ye oi the Isle ; Each did his patron witness make That he such pilgrimage would take, 480 And monks should sing, and bells should toll, All for the weal of Michael's soul. While TOWS were ta'en, and prayers were pray'd, Tis said the noble dame, dismay'd, t**»jf "'t-^* ' ' * Benonnced for aye dark magic's aid. 48S Nought of the bridal will I tell, Which after in short space befell ; Kor how brave ions and daughters fair Bless'd Teviot'i Flower and Cranstoun's heir : After such dreadful scene, 'twere vain To wake the note of mirth again. More meet it were to mark the day Of penitence, and prayer divine. When pilgrim chiefs, in sad array, Sought Melroae' holy shrine. 490 495 Witli naked foot, and sackcloth vest, And arms enfolded on his breast^ Did every pilgrim go ; The standers-by might bear aneath 104 aCOTT. Footstep, or voice, or high-drawn breath, Through all the lengthen'd row : Ko lordly look nor martial stride ; Gone was their glory, sunk their pride. Forgotten their renown ; Silent and slow, like ghosts they glid* To the high altar's hallow'd side, And there they knelt them down : Above the suppliant chieftains wave The banners of departed brave ; Beneath the letter'd stones were laid The ashes of their fathe^fs dead ; From many a garnish'd niche around Stern saints and tortured martyrs frown'd. 010 XXX. And slow up the dim With sable cowl jSa scapular, And snow-white ftoles, in order due^ The holy fathers, two and two^ In long procession came ; Taper and host and book they bare, And holy banner ilonrish'd fair With the Redeemer's name. J Above the prostrate pilgrim band ' The mitred Abbot stretch'd his hand. And bless'd them as they kneel'd ; With holy cross he signed them all. And pray'd they might be sage in hall. And fortunate in field. Then mass was sung, and prayers were said, And solemn requiem for the dead ; And bells toll'd out their mighty peal For the departed spirit's weal ; JOJi m m. J TBI LAT or TBB LAST MINSTRIL. And ever in the office close The hymn of intercession rose ; And far the echoing aisles prolong The awful burthen of the song, Dies ir^, dibs illa, solvist s^clum in fa villa j While the pealing organ rung. Were it meet with sacred strain To close my lay, so light and vain. Thus the holy fathers sung : 838/ ZXZI. HTHN FOR THE DEAR That day of wrath, that dreadful day. When heaven and earth shall pass away ! What power shall be the sinner's stay 1 How shall he meet that dreadful day 1 When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll ; When louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead t Oh ! on that day, that wrathful day. When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be Thou the trembling sinner's stay. Though heaven and earth shall pass away 1 000 Bdsr'o is the harp— the Minstrel gonet And did he wander forth alone 1 Alone, in indigence and age. To l in ger out his pilgrimage? No ! — close beneath proud Newark's tower, 6M 106 toon. Aroae the Minatrel'i lowly bower; A aimple hut ; but there was seen The little garden hedged with green. The cheerful hearth, and lattice clean. There ahelter'd wanderers, by the blaxe^ OA heard the tale of other days ; For mnoh he loved to ope his door, And give the aid he begg'd before. So pass'd the winter's day ; but still. When summer smiled on sweet Bowhill, And July's eve, with balmy breath, Waved the blue-bells rd Scroop. The office of Warden on the English side waa held at varioas times by theee noblemen. 113 67-61. Soott givei, in a long note, an account of thoM events which brought about the feud between the Scotta and Kerra, of which feud the Lay unfolds an inuginaiy episodru In the year 1526, the young King, Jamea V., tired of the authority of Douglas, Earl of Angus, the virtual ruler of the country, wrote secretly to Sir Walter Scott of Bucclench, asking to be rescued from the hands of the Douglases. An opportunity would be afforded when the Douglases, with the King in their company, were on their return from the expedition to the Borders in which they were at this time engaged. Buccleuch, attempting to carry out the King's wishes, attacked the Douglases, who were assisted by the clans of Kerr and Home, at Melrose. The Sootts were defeated, and pursued by the Kerrs. The leader of the latter, the Laird of Cessford, was slain in the pursuit by a retainer of Scott of Buccleuch, named Eliot. Hence a deadly feud between the Scq^ts and the Kerrs. Buccleuch was im- prisoned, and his estates forfeited in the year 1535, for levying war against the Kerrs ; they were restored by Act of Parliament in 1542. But the most signal act of violence to which this quarrel gave rise was the murder of Sir Walter himself, who was slain by the Kerrs in the streets of Edinburgh in 15521 This is the event alluded to in stanza viL, and the poem is supposed to open shortly after it had taken place. 61. Dunedin. The Celtic name of Edinburgh. 63. ilogaii. The war-cry, or gathering word, of a Border clan ; generally the name of a chief, or patron saint, or gathering place. 70. "Among other expedients resorted to*for stanching the feud betwixt the Scotts and Kerrs, there was a bond executed in 1529, between the heads of each clan, binding themselves to perform lecipro- oally the four principal pilgrimages of Scotland, for the benefit of the souls of those of the opposite name who had &illen in the quarreL But it either never took efiiact, or the feud was renewed shortly afterwards." {Scott). 7& " The family of Ker, Kerr, or Carr, waa very powerful on the Border. Cessford Castle, the ancient baronial residence of the family, is situated near the village of Morebattle, within two or three miles of the Cheviot Hills." (Scfitt.) 82-93. Compare with these lines Tennyson's "Home they brought her warrior dead." 106. bum. Scotch dialectic word for 'brook.' JU^ " Xh« Cranatouna are an ancient Border family, who were at / 4^ CAHTO L 113 tliii time St fend with tlia SootM ; for it appeara that the Lady, of Bucoleuch, in 15S7, beset the Laird of Cranatoan, aeelcing his life. Nevertheless, the same Cranstonn, or perhaps his son, was married to a daughter of the same lady. " {Scott. ) 112. clerk. 'Scholar' ; the word meant originally a clergyman. 113. "The Bethnnee were of French origin, and derived their name from a small town in Artois. There were several distinguished families of the Bethunes in the neighbouring province of Picardy. . . . The family of Bethune, or Beatonn, in Fife, produced three learned and dignified prelates, namely, Cardinal Beaton, and two successive Arch- bishops of Glasgow, all of whom flourished about the date of this romance. Of this family was descended Dame Janet Beaton, Lady Bucclenoh, widow of Sir Walter Scott of Branksume. She was a woman of mascnline spirit, as appeared from her riding at the head of her son's clan, after her husband's murder. She also possessed the heredi< tary abilities of her family in such a degree that the superstition of the vulgar imputed them to supernatural knowledge." {SeoU). 11 A. PaduA. A city of northern Italy, famous for its university ; in the Merchant of Venice, the leameont ten feet broad. The outer passage is vaulted to the length of about twenty feet, the rest open to the sky." 264. basnet A small light helmet ; diminutive from 'basin.' 266. Peel of Goldiland. A pal was a simple strong tower common on the Borders for purposes of defence. For (MdXUmd, see map. 266. Borthwick Water is a small tribntwy of the Teviot, haU way between Branksome and Hawick. 267. moat-hiU. "This is a ronnd artificial mound near Hawick which from its name (A.S. Uol, consilium, conventna), was probably anciently used as a place for assembling a national council of the neigh- bouring tribes " (Scott). 282, the Roman way. " An ancient Roman road, crossing through this put of Roxburghshire." (Scott). 287. Hinto-CTaKa. " A romantic assembly of cliSi which rise sud. denly above the vale of Teviot, in the immediate vicinity of the family seat from which Lord Hinto takes his title. A small platform on a projecting ciag, commanding a most beautiful prospect, is termed Bamhill'a bed. This Bamhill is said to have been a robber, or outlaw. There a» remains of a strong tower beneath the rocks, when he is supposed to have dwelt, and from which he derived his name." (StotI), 296. the warUJnf of the Doric reed. Scott explains that the allaakn is to a pastoral song written by Sir Gilbert Elliot, father of the first Loid Minto. Z>orie beoause the founder of pastoral poetry, the Greek OAirro II. 117 ThMoritiM, wrote in th* Doric diklact; retd bcoiiuM (ram rxdi the pipee were made npoo wkkh thepberdi played. 297-298. Thu indieelee the snbjeot of the pettoral poem referred to; it may be found qnoted in Soott'i notee. 301. Aill. A tributary of the Teriot; eee map. Sll. Counter. The breaat of a horee, the part f rom the ebonldere to the neok. For bardtd, eee on line 38 aboTe. 818-314. Minto remarks that theee two lines "muet be literally true. The weight of a complete suit of armour waa from IJSO to 200 lbs. Moes-troopers generally were not so heavily encumbered. Scott, howcTer, gives Ueloraine four hours to ride the twenty miles between Hawick and Melroee." 316. daggled. 'Wet,' 'sprinkled'; a dialectic word ; of. Ladfeif M<£to a llf Wiyi, oftMi, u in lldroM Abbey, in th* {orm of bwda umI f»o«." lOft "The bmoiM wid derwnto battle of Otterbume was fought 18th Aagut, 1388, between Henry Percy, called Hotepur, and Jamee, Earl of Douglae. .... The iMue of the conflict Is well known i Percy wae made priwmr, and the Scotte won the day, dearly pur- chawMl by the death of their gallant general, the Earl of Dooglaa, who wa» (lain in the action. Ho wae buried at MelroM beneath the hish /jQlfl^'WilUam Douglaa, called the Knlgh< if Liddeedale, eouriihed diWBg the reign of David II. [18291871], and wai ao dutinguiehed by hi» Talonr tUt he wae called the Flower of Chivalry. Neverthele«e, he Umiihed hie renown by the cruel murder of Sir Alexander Ranuay of Dalhoueie, originally hie friend and brother in arme. The king had oonferred upon Ranuay the aherifidom of Teviotdale, to which Douglae pretended eome claim. In revenge of this preference, the Knight of IMdeedale came down upon Ramny, while he wae adminietering juitin* »,\, Hawick, niied and carried him oiT to hie remote and inaccea- •ible caetle of Hermitage, where he threw his unfortunate prisoner, horeo anu man, into a dungeon, and left him to perish of hunger. It ie said the miserable captive prolonged his existence for several dayi by the com which fell from a granary above the vault in which he waa confined. So weak waa the royal authority that David, r.: though highly incensed at this atrocious murder, found himself obliged to appoint the Knight of Liddeedale successor to his victim, as Sheriff of Teviotdale. But he was soon after shun while hunting in Ettrick Forest, by his own godson and chieftain, William Earl of Dooglaa." (SaM. ) He waa buried with great pomp in Meboee Abbey. 113-120. Scott, in a note on this passage, refers to a theory that Gothic architecture arose from an imitation of wicker work: "the original of the clustered pillars ia traced to a set of round poets, begirt with slender rods of willow," etc. 125-126. On the window was a repreeentation of the Archangel Hiohael triumphant over Satan, the aposUte angel (of. Paradue Loit, vi.), a frequent subject of pictorial art in the well-known picture d Ouido Reni, or of Raphael, in the Louvre. 130. " A large marble stone, in the chancel of Mehoae, is pointed out as the monument of Alexander 11." (Scott). He reigned 1216-1349. 138. Michael Scott "Sir Uiohael Scott, of Balwearie. flourished 130 during th« ISth onitarjr, Mid wm ««• of the MBbuwdon laat to briag thtM«ido(Nonr*]rtoB«o(Uiidaiiont>wd«tliof AlnMuUrlll. Bj • pMtio*luiMkra>i«mh*Uii«ni^ao«dinaUuran. H*wukmwi of mvatk learning, obitfly Mqaircd in toraign ooontriw. Ha wroU • oooaaaterj upon Ariatotla, printed in Vanio* in 14SC, and MTanl traatiaaa apon nntani philaaophy, from which ha appanrt to kkva baan •ddietad to tha nbtnua atsdiai of jadiainl aatrologjr, nlehjnn;, phyiiog- nonjr, and ohiroouuicjr. Hanaa ha paaaad amoog hla oontamponuiaa for a tkilfal magioiaB. Dampatar infonna ni that ha l ama ui ba t a to hara haard ia hu yooth that tha magio books of Michaal Soott wara atill in aziatanoa, bnt oonld not be opened without danger, on aaoooat of the malignant flends who were thereby inrokad. .... Tradi- tion rariaa oonceming the place of hii bnrial; loiBe oontend for Home Colttaine in Cnmberland, others for Helroee Abbey. Bntallagnetbat hie hooka of magio were interred in hit grare, or p r aae r rau in the cottTent where he died." (ScoM). 140. "Spain, from the relics, doubtlaaa, of Arabian learning and snperatition, waa acconnted a fiiTonrite residenoe of magicians. Pope SyWaster, who actually imported from Spain the nae €if the Arabian nnmeials, waa snppoaed to hare learned tiwre the magio for which he waa stigmatiied by the ignorance of his age. There were pnbliosohoola where magic, or rather the sciencee snppoaed to inTolre ita mysterisa, were regularly taught, at Toledo, Senile, and Salamanca." {Seott) 14S. Notre Dam*. The famous church dedicated to the Virgin {Ifotrt Dame, 'Our Lady') in Paris. • 14S-14(). "Hichael Scott was, coee upon a time, mu 'y LiicL Amkt, a cloak lined with gray for worn by paimen and by rntinl ' m >[ •ome religioua ordera. 21(— teldric ' Aahonlder-balt' I oL Spanae., /twrK t,""'"t ''. '<>. ^Atl^wart hia breaat a baklrio brave he wore." The brightneaa and treahneae of thia Ment- atfcntl ^in ofl ->' ontroit to the uncanny character of the previa ni, ilo n). i' ti : it will be noted that the venifioation harmoniiea with tlie g>>n. ml li n.; of thapaiaage. 287. Cartar. Oartar Fell ia one of the Chaviota. 29I-38S. "Flower," "vlolal," and "roaa" are all in the nominative cane. 299. Urtle. ' A gown.' 3(9. hastili*. The ipelling givea a colour of antiquity. 31S. A foater-mother ia the woman who nuraea a child ; the father would, of ooune, be the huaband of the nurie. The tiea thua eatab- liahed an oftan referred to in ancient etory as very tender ; cf., for example, in Scott'a fair Maid of Perth, where a foater-father ii made to lay, " Thou (halt know what it ia to have a fcater-father'a love, and how far it ezceeda the love even of kinamea" SS2. dd. 'Age'; poetic word, cf. Spenaer, faerie Queen, IV., ii. S3, " But wicked Time that all good thoughta doth waate. .... ouraad eld, the canker worm of writa." 383. The Baroo'i dwaif. -'The idea of Lord Cranatoun'a Goblin Page ia taken from a being called Gilpin Homer, who appeared, and made aome stay, at a farm-house among the Border-mountaina A gentleman of that country haa noted down the following particulars concerning his appearance : — 'The only certain, at least moat probable account, that ever I heard of Gilpin Homer, was from an old man of the name of Anderson, who waa bom and lived all bis lib at TodshawhiU, in Eskedale-muir, the pU«e where Gilpin appeared nd staid tat some time. He said 122 Horn. there were two men, late in the evening, when it mt growing dark, employed in fastening the honea upon the nttermoat part of their gioond (that ia, tying their forefeet together, to hinder them from travelling far in the night), when they heard a voice, at some diitance, orying, 'Tint I Tint/ TitU/' {but). One of the men, named Mofbt, called out, 'What deil has tint you? Come here.' Immediately a creature, of something like a human form, appeared. It was surpris- ingly little, distorted in features, and misshapen in limbs. As soon as the two men could see it plainly, they ran home in a great fright, imagining they bad met with some goblin. By the way, Mofiat fell, and it ran over him, and was home at the house as soon as either of them, and staid there a long time ; but I cannot say how long. It was real flesh and blood, and ate and drank, was fond of cream, and, when it could get at it, would destroy a great deal It seemed a mischievous creature ; and any of the children whom it could master, it would beat and scratch without mercy. It was once abusing a child belonging to the same Moi&t, who had been so frightened by its first appearance ; and he, in a passion, struck it so violent a blow upon the side of the head, that it tumbled upon the ground ; but it was not stmmed ; for it set up its head directly, and exclaimed, ' Ah, hah. Will o' Mofiat, you strike sair ! ' (viz. sore. ) After it had staid there long, one evening, when the women were milking the cows in the loan, it was playir^ among the children near by them, when suddenly they heard a loud shrill voice cry, three times, 'Gilpin Homer!' It started, and said, * That it me, I mutt away,' and instantly disappeared, and was never heard of more. Old Anderson did not remember it, but said he had often heard his father, and other old men in the place, who were there at the time, speak about it ; and in my younger years I have often heard it mentioned, and never met with any who had the remotest donbt as to the truth of the story ; although, I must own, I cannot help thinking there must be seme misrepresentation in it." — To this account, I have to add the following particulars from the most respect- able authority. Besides constantly repeating the word lint! tint! Oilpin Homer was often heard to call upon Peter Bertram, or Be-te- Run, as he pronounced the word ; and when the shrill voice called Oilpin Homer, he immediately acknowledged it was the summons of the said Peter Bertram ; who seems therefore to have been the devil who had tint, or lost, the little imp. As much has been objected to Oilpin Homer, on account of his being supposed rather a device of the author than a popular superstition, I can only say that no legend which I ever heard seemed to be more universally credited ; and that CANTO II. 133 many persons of very good rank, and oonaiderable inforuiation, are well known to repoae absolute faith in the tradition.' " {Seolt). 359. Reedidale'* glena. The Bad rises on Carter Fell and Bows into the Teviot. SaO. As the last note shows, the cry of the Dwarf refers to the fact that he himself is lost, i«., he has strayed from his roaster, Michael Scott. 367. nde. Ancient and provincial form for 'rode.' Stuart cites from The Dotiglat Tragedy in the Border Mitutrelty, "O they rade on, and on they rade." 377. arch, and litherlie. Ardi, 'roguish'; htherlie, 'wicked,' 'mis- chievous' ; lUher is used in this sense by Chaucer, as is also Utherlie as an adverb, ct UUler't Tak, 112; The Cuekoo and the ITiglUingale, 14. 381. an. • If ' ; this conditional particle is found frequently in Shakes- peare and other earlier writers ; a» is a corruption for 'and,' which is frequently found in the same sense, and this is in turn derived from the common employment of 'and if ' or 'an if ' as a conditional particle. 382. ' Throughout the Borders ' (see map). 386. St. Mary's Chapel of the Lowes stands near St. Mary's Loch ; it takes its name from the Loch of Lowes, a small loch at the upper end of St. Mary's Loch. 390 fol. The incident here narrated is based upon historical facta. Upon 25th of June, 1557, Dame Janet Beaton, Lady Buccleuch, and a great number of the name of Scott, two hundred persons in all, marched to the chapel of St. Mary of the Lowes, and. broke open the door in order to apprehend Sir Peter Cranstoun ' for his destruction.' 892. trystingf place. ' Appointed place of meeting ';olyour- priae the hooee on a andden. Before I could •ttrraund the house, the two Scota were gotten in the atrong tower, and I could aee a boy riding from the house aa faat aa his horse could carry him ; I little soa- pecting what it meant. But Thomas Carleton came to me presently, and told me, that if I did not presently prevent it, both myself and all my company would be either slain or taken prisoners. It was strange to me to haar this language. He then said to '.'«, 'Do you see that boy that rideth away so fast? He will be in Scotland within this half hour ; and he is gone to let them know that you are here, and to what end you ate come, and the small number you have with you ; and that if they will make haste, on a sudden they may surprise ua, and do with us what they please.' Hereupon we took advice what was best to be done. We sent notice presently io all parts to raise the country, and to come to us with all the spead they could ; and withall we sent to Carlisle to raise the townsmen ; for without foot we couhl do no geod against the tower. There we staid, some hours, expecting more com- pany ; and withia short time after the country came in on all sides, so that we were quickly between three and four hundred horse ; and, after some longer stay, the foot of Carlisle came to us, to the number of three or four hundred men ; whom we presently set to work, to get to the top of the tower, and to uncover the roof ; and then some twenty of them to fall down together, and by that means to win the tower.— The Soots seeing their present danger, ofleted to parley, and yielded them- selves to my mercy. They had no sooner opened the iron gate, and yielded themselves my prisoners, but we might see four hundred hone within a quarter of a mile coming to their rescue, and to surprise me and my small company ; but of a sudden they stayed, and stood at gaze. Then had I more to do than ever ; for all our Borderers came crying, with full months, ' Sir, give us leave to set upon them ; for these are they that have killed our father.i, o«r brothers, and uncles, and our cousins ; and they are coming, thin ki ng to surprise you, upon weak grass nags, such as they could get on a sudden ; and God hath put them into your hands, that we may take revenge of them for much blood that they have spilt of ours.' I desired they would be patient a while, and bethought myself, if I should give them their will, there would be few or none of the Scots that would escape uukiUed : (there was so many deadily feuds among them ;) and therefore I resolved with myself to give them a fair answer, but not to give them their deoie. So I told them, that if I were not there myself, they migbt tiMD OARTO III. 129 i»wh.tth.y ple«ed them»Iv«i but bring p««„t, if I.ho»Urive th.m 1««. the blood thrt .hould be .pUt that day woliM lie very iSrf nponmyoon«,ence. And therefore I desired them, for n,y „ke. to fo^i .nd. .the Scots did not p,«ently make way with all the tt^i 7r^ ■ T\'"' "■"''"« "' ""■"■ *''«y '•■ould then have their wiIU to do what they plea«d. They were ill «tis8ed with my «.w.r^„tdur.t„ot di«.bey. I «„t with speed to tl» ScTts, ^ »»de tb«n pack away with aU the speed they oould ; for if they .^yed tt^mea^nger-. return, they should few of them return to their ^^ k«n<^ They made no stay , but they were returned homewarf. before the mesMuger had made an end of his message. Thus, by God'. ««cy. I «cped a great danger, and, by my means, the™ wero . great nauy mea'i lives saved that day. ' '■ {Scott). ^*- ••••••-Sk. a beacon in time of need. 38& tarn. A laonntein lake, SSa. aun. •■ A Scottiah eagle " {SaMI ; ct Ladv of tit Lai. VT XT.,»,".ponher.yryBod.theeme." «'»•/««£«*«. VI, -utrfmoet 0* our Sootfsh hills, and are found in other remarkaUo T^J^. "^'i *'"'"«'' '"* ™™'»"y. to have been sepul- ^ BOQamnts. 8« flat stone, are commonly fomid in the cento ch»n placed. The author is possessed of o-e, di««,vered bene.t"» m™™, «™ at Ro^hlee in Liddesdale. It is of the Ztt^™ «™truot« ; the middle of the sub.ta„» alone having been subjected Ws skTl^t^ !l- "^^ T'^ "^"^ "■"* ™'-y "J^omam-ta, Bs skiu ^parrotly being inadequate to baking the vase when eon, pk^y firdriiM The intent, we,, bones and les, and 1 q^Ttit^ rf tea^mad. of coal. This seem, to have been a barba«us i^Z U the Roman fashion of sepulture.' (5««). «™ii*uon oi aw. DnaedJa. See on I., 6), above. 390. Soliim and Dnmpender L«w. " We awmne that the tm .i i. ^" I'Tt'::* T^' ""'"' "'^ -"- «.uth*:^t^io^r^'' bmgh ; and that the Utter is Dumpender or Trap«in Law «, ^gro'nff '■ ^' - -^ -<-» "* AnS'o-S-on origin meaning mLKMtmt. JtayQueenof 8ootaw«atthi.timea*ad. '1?SBl!»?r'^lBS 130 Kom. S92. bowM. 'Mkkerwdy,' ta arohwa word common in Ullad*; of. Bdom o' Oonitm, •• Hiuh oi;' boon, my merry men »'." The ume word appears in the corrupt fona bound in luch phraaee aa "homeward bound." *04. ban-doff. See on I. 137. 415. Lem. A tribnUry of the Kak from the South. 416. black-naiL Mail here is an old word meaning ' rent. ' Black- mail was a tribute exacted on the English and HighUnd Borders ^ freebooters in return for assuring immunity froiu j .under. 418. agen. Old spelling of 'again. ' Cakto IV. 2. bale-fires. Seenoteonin., S4S. 20. Dundee. Graham •haft, which nailed the oapuln'i thigh to hie awlille, If] cuinot lew, I can yrri"—itwilek).' {Scoll). «. St BarnabrichL " Bamabright, otherwiie Bamaby bright, Barnaby day, waa the feitival of St. Bamabaa, the 1 1th June. In the old atyle of reckoning, before the reviiion of the calendar, this wa» the longMtday I hence the epithet 'bright' CT Spen«r. SiiUkalamium, "Thtoday the tun lain hliohhlMt ImI(M With Buoaby tin bright." St Barnabaa wa« an apostle and » companion of St. Paul {Sluarl). 81. Warden-Raid. "An it.-ioad commanded by the Warden ta penon." (Seotl). M. baiMcwL See on I., 861. M. Billhopc. A pl«,* in Liddeadale remarkable for iu game, m Scott illiutratea by quoting from an old rhyme : " BlUhope brftca (or buokt and rata" eO. ■■ A« the Borderer* were indiflerent about the furniture of their habitationa. ao much exposed to be bnmed and plunder«l, they were proportionally anxioua to di^th^r splendour in decorating and ornament- ing their females." (Scott). 62. punogf. See on II. IIW, »bo™ 64. morion. A helmet without a visor, or face gnud. 65. jack. See on HI. «1, above. 63. A Scottish ell is 37.2 inches. . 74. IMted WiU Howud. 'Lord WUliam Howard, third len of Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, succeeded to Naworth CaMfe and a large domain annexed to it, in right of his wife EUiabetb, sister al OeocL Lord Dacre, who died without hein-male, in the 11th untry and German soldiers marched to an assault with their right knees bored. And we may also observe, in such pictures, the extravagance to which they lirried the fashion of ornamenting their dress with knota of ribbor.. This custom of the Germans is aUuded to in the Uirrour/or MagittraUt, p. 121 :— '"Their pleltsd (Mments therewith well leooid. All Jegde ud froonit, with dl»en colours deckt.' " (&o(l). 77. AiUerten. " Askerton is an old castle, now ruinous, situated in the wilds of Cumberland, about seventeen miles north-eost of Carlisle, amidst the mountainous and desolate tract of country borderina unon Uddesdale." (Shiort), -Hi !«■ oAirro IT. 133 8S. In nhniM* to the aiipeuanoe ot m ftmm with « nam* k thoronghly Sootob on the English tide, tm not* on VI., 181. 87. The word Seranr 1« ieM(Maty), MICROCOPY IteSOlUTION TEST CHMt (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I ■ 1.25 i Am ^ APPLIED IM/IGE Inc ^^ 1653 East Mam Streel 7"^ Rochester. New York 14609 USA ■^5 (716) 482 - 03OO - Phone ^S ("6) 288 - 5989 - Fox 134 120. An Aged knight See on II., 393, above. "The family ol Harden are desccnilod from a younger son of the Tjaird of Buccleuch, who flouriBhed before the estate of Munlieston was acrjuired by the marriage of one of those chieftains with the heiress, in 1296. Hence v,hey bear the cognizance of the Scotts ujHJn the field ; whereas those of the Buccleuch are dispo8e See note on line 120 above. USb See note on 120 above. CANTO IT. 135 MO. Dinlay. A mountain in Li{|(Ie8dale, 145. " In this anil tho following stanzaa, sonio ac.ount is given of the mode in which the property in the valley of Ksk was transferred from the Beattisons, its ancient possessors, to tlie name of Scott. It is needless to repeat the circumstances, which are given in tho poem literally as they have been preserved by tradition." (Scott.) Lines 145-223 were not in the first edition. This addition is not poetically necessary, or even beautiful, and shows how Scott's family and anti- quarian instincts might get the better of his artistic sense. 159. Galliard. 'Gay or gallant.' (Ft. gaitlard). heriot A tribute to the lord of the manor of the horse or habili- ments of the deceased tenant. 177. cast of hawks. Cast is a technical term in falconry, meaning originally a flight of birds let go at once from the hand ; it came, in time, to mean 'a pair,' as is shown in Spenser, Faertr Queen, VI., Cii., 9, "As when a cast of faulcons make their flight," where the context ■hows two birds are spoken of. 179. Beshrew thy heart 'Mischief to thy heart' ; a mild form of imprecation found often in Shakespeare, cf. Merch. of Veniie, II., vi, fiZ, " Beshrew me, but I love her tenderly." 180. a landed man. 'A man who possessed land.' 187. menymta. A word frequently applied in ballads to foresters and outlaws, probably expressive of their improvidently happy dispo- sition. Scott, however, asserts that ' merry ' in such phrases means famous. 200. winded. There are two verbs wind ; the weak verb wind (to give wind to), here correctly used, and the strong verb mud (to turn round ). Scott sometimes confuses tliese. (See iorfy o/ the Lake I. , 500). 206. Craikcross. A hill in Eskdale. 210. Pentoun-linn. Not far from the junction of the Liddel and Eak ; linn means (1) a waterfall, (2) a pool at its Use, (3) a steep bank. 217. bore. Past tense of bear in the aenee of ' pierce ' (cf. ran in " he ran him through the body "), as in Chaucer, Kiiiglu'a Tale, 1. 1399, " Arcita me thnrgb the herte here." 219. Haugh. " Low lying flat ground, properly on tlio border of a river, and such as ia aometimes overflowed." (Jamieton's ScoUuh Dietkmar])), IStt xoth. 224. WhittUde and Headlhaw are the nMnes of tvo pUcea in the valley of the Aill ; Bee map. 226. deugh is, in Scottish dialect, a hollow between prer;ipitomary laws of the Borders, during which no feud was to be prosecuted. " {Stuart). 374. GUsland. A town and district in Cumberland, not far from the Border. 377. reads. *Coun8els'; cf. Spenser, Faerie Queen, I., i., 13, "therefore I reaKS ot OuKnam Water Are ruKffinK and riving their hair. And a' for the soke of Willie, His beauty was so fair." 591. Jedwood Air. ' Jedwood (Jedburgh) Assizes ' ; aiV is the same as the English Ej/re in 'Justices in Kyre' ; Jamieson in his Dictionary of the Scottish Dialect quotes from the old historian, Pitscottie, "The king went to the South-land to the Airs, and held justice in Jedburgh." 617. hearse. A loose use of this word in the sense of tomb ; the only similar use quoted in the New English Dictionary is from Daven- ant's Gmdibtrt (1571), " When she with flowers Lord Arnold's grai-o will strew. . , . She OL her rival's hearae will drop a few." 143 KOTES. Canto V. 29. antique. Aoctnted on tlio first nyllalile u in Marmivit, V., 889^ and in Sliakopearu, At I'oii Hie /I, II., i., 31, otu. 49. vaila. 'Itavaila.' 81-52. " The chief of thin potent race of heroc«, about the date of the poem, WM Archil«ld Dou(jla», .i venth hiirl of Angin, a man of great courage and activity. The Blocly Heart was the well-known cogniz ance of the House of Douglas, asiiumed from the time of goon(j^ returning from a font-hall nwtcli. Sir Rolwrt Can.}-^ in InM llenioir., rofi.ti,.n» a g. -r meeting, .ppointej by the Sc,>tch n.l.rs to he h..|,l at Kel« for th. pur,,« of pUjing at f.i„t. tall, but winch terminated in an incursi.,,. upon Kngland. At prewnt, the foot.l>«ll i, often played by the iiOiabitant. of adjacent pari,he., or of the op,K«ite tank, of a .tream. The victory i, c.«.te.te,l with the utmoet fury, and very aeriou* accident, have xjinetime. taken place in the struggle. '■ (ScoU). "^ 1 19. whingsn. A short hanger use.! a i a knife at rneaU, and an a ■word ni i,.-;;s. '^.?"'^*','™" ""• '*"• " ^''-t^ith-tanding the conatant wan. upon the H«r,leni, and the occa«io.ial crueltic. which markcl the mutual inroad., the inhabitant, on either «de do not aimear to have reganled each other with that violent and permnal a„inio.ity which might have been expected. On the contrary, like the outpo«t. of hostile armies, they often carried o.i «,mething resembling friendly •ntercourw. even in the middle of ho,t„;t:- ; and it i. evident, from variou. ordinance, against trade and intermarriage., between English and Scottish Borderer., that the govemmenta of both countries were jealou. of their cheriahing too intimate a connexion. . issart^ mv. of both nation., that • Englyhmen on the one party, a,. . Scotte. on the other pirty. are good men of warre; for when they meet, there i. . harde fight without .parynge. There is no hoo ((r«,,] between them, a. long a. .pear., .words, axes, or daggers, will endure, but lay on !! "J^u """"'»'"' "han they be weU beaten, and that tne one party hath obtained the victory, they then glorifye «> in theyre ded« of arm,.., and are » joyfull. that .uch a. be taken they .hall be »n»med. or that they go out of the felde; w that .hortly eehe of Uiem 1. «. content with other, that, at their departynge, curtyriye they w,U say, God thank you.'_fi«.;«r', Froi^rt. vol ii., p.m The Border meeting., of truce, wh'.h, although place, of merchandise and mirnmeut often wit„e.^d th. most bloody scenes, may serve to Ulu.t«tethedesenptioninthetext. They are vividly portraj 1 in the oU ballad of the Reidswire. [See VinstreUyl Both partie, came wmed to a meeting of the wardens, yet they intermixed fearleady and pe«>eably with each other in mutual sport, and familiar intercc.™, until a casual fray anwe :— ■Then wu there nought bat bow uid siiev, And everjr man pulled out s bnuxL' " In the 29th .tana of thi. canto, there i. an attempt to expre» »m. 144 HOTH. of the miied {e«lingi with which tha Bonli>rera on each nide were lad ta regard thoirneigbouni." {ScotI). 129. WxmI. "Oeoflrey of Monmouth'i etory of the nievting of Vortigem and Rowena ia well known. Hengiat, Rnwenu'a father, invited Vortigem to a feaat, and ' when that waa over, the yniing lady eanie out of her chamber bearing a golden cup full of wine, and making a low courtoay, aaid to him, "Lord King, mtt hitlf" The King, at the light of the laily'i face, waa on a audden surpHaed and inflamed with her beauty | and calling to hin interpreter, ai ^d him what ahe aaid and what anawer he ahould make her. "She callod you Lord King," aaid the interpreter, "and offered to drink your health. Your •nawer to har muat be Drine hal t Vortigern accordingly anawerod DrifK hitl! and bade her drink j after which he took the cup from her hand, kiaaed her, and drank himaelf. From that time to thin, it hr i been the cuatom in B.-itain that he who drinka to any one aaya Wixt AaU and he that pleigea him aiiawors Drinekal! Wat hal meana aimply 'be hale or whole,' and Drinc hal. Drink, hale, 'drink, and haalthbe withyou." {Scott). 179. Ouienam. Otherwiae Oxnam near Jedburgh, aeat of the Cranatouns. 193. Hermitage. The caatle of the Douglaaea in Liddeadale ; a knight from Hermitage would therefore be an ally of the Scotta of Branklome. 196. TMSalaKC. ■ Vaaaala,' aa dtimlry for < knighta,' iv. , 329, above. 230. port. A Gaelic word meaning a martial piece of muaic adapted to the bag-pipea. 242. Lockhart drawa attention that the Warden waa an anceator of Scott, who waa at thia time Sheriff-depute of Selkirkahire, and Thirle- atane waa the anceator of Lord Napier, who, aa Lord Lieutenant of the ahire, waa the poet'a official auperior. 243. 'g;an. See on I., 253, above. 258. Flemish niif. Ilandera waa famous for ita manufacture of cloth, linen, etc. ; ruff waa the projecting collar ao familiar in Eliz- abethan portraits. 259. doublet. 'A jacket.' 260. slaih'd. * Having slashes, or slits to show the liuing.' 261. Gilded apurs were emblems of knighthood. 363. Imm. 'Breechea.' CAirro T. 14( 2M. BllbOB, In S|min, wa« tamnuH for ien rannufuctureii of ji„n aii.| rt. ul J lifiK-u a ni|iiir wa. callixl a /i.7/«,. ,S,.,. Urrr;/ IViit, of Windmr III., S, 112. ' 270. foot-cloth. The uloth for covering \.\\« Ih.Iv of a homo ami reaching to itH fwt. 271. wimple. A jilaiteil lim-n cloth for i (ivcring the ntKk ; cf. Itaiah, iii., \tl ; Fitrrir Qurtn, I., «ii., 22. 283. bameri. 'Lista.' 290, IcadioK »*»«'• The Uton of a tielit niarBhal. 29.5. Kor a .iniilar acene of trial by eomUt, M,e Shake«p<)are'ii Riehard II , I., iii. "^ 301. alternate. The i|ji'rly ixpn-w,! tiv an advert). ' 30i>. deipiteou* icathe. ' Malitiom injury" ; cf. ,„j John, I., iv., 34, " Turning ileKpiUKniii torture out of door," ami , i., 7s, '" To do ofTenco and acathe in ChriHtcndoni." 311. itraiii. 'Lineage'; cf. Juliut Catmr, V., i., C9, ' o, if thou Wert the nobleHt of thy strai..." 313. coat 'Coat of arms." *M' claymore. A Ctaelii; word meaning 'a large iiword.' 344. gorgfet A piece of armour for the throat. 371. beaver. The movable monthpiecu of the helmet ; of. Hamlttl. ii., 30, "He wore hia beaver up." * 430. dight See on I., 42, alwvo. 456. wraith. " The spectral apparition of a living person." (ScoU). 480. Naworth. See on I., 61. 481. mark. Thirteen shillings and four penc^e; the mark of the plural Is omitted as often in such cases, as in John Oilpin: He ourln weight ! he ridea a net. Til for a thounand pound. 482. long of thee. .So in Coriolanun, V., iv., 31, "All this is long of you," and Ci/mbfUiie, V. , v. , 271. 490. .Scott cjuotea Drayton's PolyoUiion, .Song 13 :— " The UndH that over Oute to Berwick forth do bear Have tor their blazon had the tnaflle, tpur, ajid ipear." Soaffle. 'Bridle.' 10 146 iroTB«. 401. Hinto quotes the following linea from The iVoy rf Sitport ia Border Mhutreley : — ' Doughty Dui o' the HouIm Hint Thow WM Bye gndm at a, bint ; Oude wi' ft bow, Mid bettor wi* k eiielr, Tbe beuldeet Hatohnuui thAt e'er foUow'd gmr.' 493. " The punuit of Border marauders waa followed by the injoied |iartj and his frienda with blood-hounds and bugle-horn, and was called the hot-trcd. He was entitled, if his dng ca 34. Teviot stone. See on I., 15. 46. portcullis' iron grate. See on I. , 33. 64. owches. 'Jewels'; cf. EhxxtuB^ xxviii. 11, '*Thoa shalt make them to be set in ouches of gold." 66. muliTer. ' Ermine. ' 68. forbidden spell. "Popular belief, though contrary to the doc- Uinea of the Church, made a favourable distinction betwixt magicians, and necromancers or wizards ; — the former were supposed to command the evil spirits, and the latter to serve, or at least to be in league and compact with, those enemies of mankind. The arts of subjecting the demons were manifold ; sometimes the fiends were actually swindled by the magicians, as in the cas^ of the bargain betwixt one of their number and the poet Virgil." {Scott). 70. planetary hour. According to astrology, at different times dif* ferent planets were said to l>e in the ascendant, i.e., their special influence was dominant ; it was important, therefore, to know the par- ticular hour at which a planet favourable to any undertaking was in the ascendant; so the physician in the Prologue to the Canterbury Tale$ " Kepte his paclent wonderlj well In houres by his mapo naturel.** 78. piarded. ' Edged' or 'trimmed ' ; cf. Merchant of Venice, II., it, 165, ** Give him a livery more guarded than his fellows." 79. merlin. "A merlin, or sparrow-hawk, was actually carried by ladies of rank, as a falcon was in time of peace the constant attendant of a knight or baron. . . . Barclay complains of the common and indecent practice of bringing hawks and hounds into churches."— (Scott.) 89. heron-shew. 'A young heron.' 90. " The peacock, it is well known, was considered, during the tim» of chivalry, not merely as an exquisite delicacy, but as a dish of peculiar polemnity. After being roasted, it was again decorated with its plumage, and a sponge, dipped in lighted spirits of wine, was placed in its bill. When it was introduced on days of grand festival, it was the signal for the adventurous knights to take upon them vows to do I deed of chividry, * before the peacock and the ladies.' OAVTO TL 149 "The bosr*! head wu aito a vnial diih o{ fondal splendonr. In Scotland it was aometimes snrroanded with little banners, displaying the colonni and aohievements of the baron at whoae board it was served. PinkerUm't Hutory, voL L, p. 432." {ScoU). 92. Cf^atA, *A young swan.* "Then are ctften flights of wild (wans upon St. Mary's Lake, at the head ol the river Yarrow." ISeoU). Cf. Wordsworth : ** The iwan apon St. Mai7*i I^a Floats doubls, swan snd shadow. ** 93. ptannigan. A bird of the grouse family. 98. (halm, and pialtery. Skalm or thawm is an ancient wind instrument resembling a clarionet, cf. Faerie Queen, I., xii., 13, '* With shawmes, and trumpets, and with clarions sweet." Psaltery, a sort of harp, cf. Paalma, zxxiii., 2, "Praise the Lord with harp; sing unto Him with the psaltery, and with an instrument of ten strings." 103-105. Hawks were usually howled, or blindfolded, when not engaged in hunting, and had bells attached to them. 109. Mwcrs. ' Servants who brought in the dishes.' 120-122. "The Rutherfords of Hunthill were an ancient race of Border Lairds, whose names occur in history, sometimes as defending the frontier against the English, sometimes as disturbing the peace of their own country. Dickon Draw-the-sword was son to the ancient warrior, called in tradition the Cock of Hunthill, remarkable for leading into battle nine sons, gallant warriors, all sons of the aged champioa" (ScoU). The Poet's mother was a Rutherford. 123. wye. *Say'; 'assertion.' 128. " To bite the thumb, or the glove, seems not to have been con- sidered, upon the Border, as a gesture of contempt, though so used by Shakespeare, but as a pledge of mortal revenge. It is yet remembered that a young gentlenutn of Teviotdale, on the morning ofter a hard drinking-bout, observed that he had bitten his glove. He instantly demanded of his companion, with whom he had quarrelled? And, learning that be had had words with one of the party, insisted ou instant satisfaction, asserting that though he ramembered nothing of the dispute, yet he was sure he never would have bit his glove uolaa he had received some unpardonable insult. He fell in the duel, which was fought near Selkirk, in 1721." (Scott). 129. Inglewood. A plain formerly covered with forest stretching from Penrith to Carlisle. ISO Adogle(Jbya/iBiMorfaim,i«.,aleMhj d. Faerk 132. iTme-doff. Q«een, V., ii., 25. 142. leUe. 'Seat' ; uraaUy 'a aaddle,' u in Fatrie Qtutn, III., iii, 60, " For never wight w fast in aell ooold »it." 14t Arthur Fircthe-Bracs. "The pennn bearing thi> redontable «<»»df,?««m.w«ianElliot. .... He ooour. in a li.t of Border nder,. m liW," (&o«). Bra,, i. a Sootoh word meaning 'steep banli.. A. an EUiot he belongs to the Kerr faction, with whom the ocotts were at feud. 153. Scott gives a tradition hat the founder of the Buooleuoh family gained the favour of Kenneth MaoAlpine, King of Scotland, and the name of Buooleuoh, by carrying a buck from the bottom of a deep oleuoh for a mUe, and throwing it at the feet of the Kir g, who. aoootding to the baUad, thereupon rewarded him :— " TIm forat and tlie deer Uunin We conmit to th j hand, For thou ikalt rare thi laager b* If thou obey oommand ; And tor the buck thou etouUy btoofht To ui up Uut steep heuch, Ihy deeigiiaUoii erer shall Be John Soott In Bucksdenoli. " IM. dMeh. " A strait hollow between precipitous banks, or a hol- low da«»nt on the Bide of a hilL»-n's SeoUM Dictionary). 167. rananbered faim. Him is a reflexive pronoun ; cf. 1st ffoiry IV., n., iv., M8, " I remember me, his name is Falstaff " 182. The reference is probably to the Battle of Solway Moss, 1542, where ten thousand Scots fled before three hundred EngUsh horsemen. 172. qmni'd. Ct V. S3, abovei 176. cUrUiiit;. A poetic word; cf. King Lear, "So out went the candle and we were left darkling - ; usuaUy employed as an adverb. 184. "The residenoe of the Groimea being chiefly in the Debateable Land, so caUed because it was claimed by both kingdoms, their der la- tionaextended both to England and Scotland, with impunity; for as both wardens accounted them the proper subjects of their own prince, neither inchned to demand reparation for their excesses from the opposite officers, which would have been an acknowledgment of his jurisdiction over them.- }ee a long correspondence on this subject betwixt Lord UaoTB and the English Privy Council, in Introduction to J?««or.v of Oimierland. The Debateable Luid was finally divided Utwixt Bog- OAMTO VI. lb.. Uuid and Soothnd, by oommiHionan appointad by both natiofu." IScoU). 190. "It is the aathor*! object, in these iongs, to exemplify the different styles o{ baUad narrative which pnvailed in this ishwd at different periods, or in different oooditions ol society. The first (Albert's) is conducted upon the rjj^ and silimlg mode of the old Border ditties, and produces its effect by the direct and Mosiae narra- tive of a tragical occurrence. " (Jeffrey). 182. "This burden is adopted, with some alteration, from an old Scottish song, beginning thus : — * Sh« lesn'd her bAok agaiiut ft thoin. Tha niD ihinea fair on Cftrlitle wft' ; And there ehe has her young bftbe born, Apdtheljrondiftllbelordola."' (SMt), SIS. He became a Crusader. 225. rhyme. The word seems to be used here vaguely and im- properly. ronndday. A rondeau, a species of short poem of elaborate structure in which a line recurs, or comes romui again. 220. Surrey. " The gaUant and unfortunate Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, was unquestionably the most accomplished cavalier of his time; and his sonnets display beauties which would do honour to a more polished age. He was beheaded on Tower-hill in 1546 ; a victim to the mean jealousy of Henry Tm., who could not bear so brilliant a character near his throne." " The song of the supposed bard is founded on an incident said to have happened to the Earl in his travels. Cornelius Agrippa, the cele- brated alchbmist, showed him, in a looking-glass, the lovely Oeraldine, to whose service he had devoted his pen and his sword. The vision re- presr ited her as indisposed, and reclining upon a couch, reading her lover's verses by the light of a waxen taper." {Seott). 251. Naworth. See on I., 51. irm. Cf. Itiirodueiiim, 35, above. 257. " The second song, that of Fitztraver, the bard of the accom- plished Surrey, has more of the richness and polish of the Italian poetry, and is very beautifully written in a stanza resembling that of Spenser." {Jejrry). All-Soula' erc. " The day before All-Souls' day, a festival celebrated by the Roman Catholic Chmrah on behalf of the scnila in pnr^tory. . . . IBS XOTM. It b obwrred on the 2nd of Noronber. An the mention of AU-SonW Eve here can have no ipecial Bignifloance, it ie probable that Boott meant AU-Sainta' Eve, or Hallowe'en, aa it ii oslled, the evening liefore All-SainU' Day, the Irt November." {StiiaH). On Hallowe'en all ■orts of lupematatal infinencea were luppoaed to be in the aaoendant, •pirita walked, divination attained its higheat power, etc. 260. Cornelina. Cornelius Agrippa, bom 1486 at CSologne, became famous for his learning, and had a great reputation as a magician. 283. higbt * Promised ' ; cf. Chaucer Kmghei Tale, 1814 : ** PsjAinon that li thlna own knight, Sohal h*n his lady, as thou hast him hifht* 268. (ramatye. 8eeonI., 14a 271. character. Magical Idtters, marks, or symbols, taliiman. A magical figure. ' 272. Almagest A name applied by the Arabs to a treatise on astronomy by the great astronomer Ptolemy of Alexandria, who flourished about 140 B.C. i hence used as a name for similar worka 282. Of Agfra's silken loom, i.e., of Indian silk. Agra was the capital of the Moghul Empire in the sixteenth century. 289. ebunune. ' Made of ivory.' 300. The references in this line are to Henry's execution of Anne Boleyn and speedy marriage to Jane Seymour, and to his dissolution of the monasteries. 307. Scott explains in a note that the St. Claire, or Sinclair*, held lands both in Orkney and in the south o' Scotland. 308. Home. Home Castle in Berwickshire. 311. Otudea. Ancient name of the Orkneys. 315. Kirkwall, thecapitalof the Orkney Islands, contains an ancient castle built by the St. Clain, and once the pride of the place, but about 1615 dismantled ; hence a sad reminder of former greatness. 316. Pentland. The Pentland firth separates the Orkneys from the mainland of Scotland. 317. Odin or Wodin, the chief god of the Norse mythology. The Orkneys were long held by Norway, and there was p. large infusion of Norwegian blood and cnstoms. The bard's name, Harold, is Noxae, while Surrey's baid has a Norman name. 826. Lochlin's sons of lorinc war. LoMhi is thn Gaelio word for OAITTO TL l6S Denmwk or Scandinavia ; hence the phraie meann 'Srandinavia's rov- ing warriors.' 327. They were akillefl in nUughter ; of. the wuig in Scott'H Pirate, chap. XT, : — " From hts cliff the uf le lalliei, LcavM th« wolf hit darkiome vallles ; In the midit the raveni hover, Peep the wild dogi from the cover, ScreMniny, oroeking, bayingr, yelUnff, Each in hie wild aocente tellloK 8oon we feaat on dead and dying, Falr-halred Harold'e flag Is flying. " 328-320. "The chiefs of the Vakingry or Scandinavian pirates, as- sumed the title of Sakonumjr, or Sea-Icings. >Ships, in the inflated language of the Scalds, ar« often termed the serpents of the ocean." (ScoU). 331. icald. 'An ancient Scandinavian minstrel.' 332. Runic column. * A column with a runic inscription ' ; the heathen Scandinavians used peculiar alphabetical chaiactcrs, called runa. Many inscriptions in this character are found in S^ oompoaition which pre\ ailed among the banU of the Northern Conti- nent, lomewhat aoftened and adorned by the minatrera teeidence in the South. We prefer it, upon the whole, to either of the two former, and ■hall give it entire to our readers, who will probably be atruck with the poetic effect of the dramatic form into which it ia thrown, and of the indirect dcacription by which everything ia moat expreaaiveiy told, without one word of distinct narrative." (Jrff,ty\. Again Profeaaor Halei aaya: "Perhapa iu supreme virtue is the aimple Vigour with which ita picturea are drawn. There is no personal intrusion ; there are no vain cries and groans ; there is no commenting and explaining. The pictures tell their own story, and tell it ao vividly and thriUingly that nothing mor^ ia needed." 3S8. CasUc RaTcnahench. "A Urge and atrong castle, now ruinoua, situated betwixt Kirkaldy and Dysart, on a steep crag, washed by the Frith of Forth. It waa conferred on Sir William St. Clair as a slight compensation for the earldom of Orkney, by a charter of King James III., dated in 1471, and is now the property of Sir James St. CUir Erekine (now Earl of Rosalyn), repreaentotive of the family. It waa long a principal reaidence of the Baron., of Koalin. " (**«). 361. inch. Celtic word meaning 'island'; found in Scotch proper namea : IwMcMh, Ipekmurin, etc. 362. Om Water-q>rite. Otherwiae the Kelpie. " The apirit of the waters, who, as is vulgarly believed, gives previoua intimation of the deatruotion of thoae who periah within bia juriadiction, by preternatural light* and noi'iea, and even assists in drowning them." (/amJMm's SeoUith Oietionaty). Cf. Campbell, Lord UUin't DtmgUter :— " By this th« itonn grew loud apaoe. The wster-wtsitta ms ihrieklng." 372. Tb' reference is to a pastime with knights in later feudal times; they showed their akiU by carrying off, on the point of a huice, a ring suspended from a beam, whilst riding at full speed. 382. Dfyden. An estate near, and to the west of Hawthomden. 383. Hawthorden. In the neighbourhood of Roelin, and some ten miles south-west of Edinburgh, famous as the residence of Drummond, a Scottish poet of the early port of the 17th century. The house is bmlt on a cUff over the Eak, and in thia oHff are aevetal amaU caverns, boUowedont, it ia coigectnred, as hiding places. OAirro Ti. 156 884. ■■ The bMoUfnl olwpel of Rodin ii itill in tol«nble prewrvatioa It WM founded in 1446, by William St. Clair, Prince of Orkney. Thi» lofty penon, wboee title*, aayi Godecroft, might weary a Spaniard, built the oaatle of Roalin, where he reeided in princely splendour, and founded the chapel, which ii in the meet rich and florid atyle of Gothic architecture Among the profnae carving on the pillar* and buttreaau, the roae ia frequently introduced, in alluaion to the lutme, with which, however, the flower haa no connexion ; the etymology being Roealinnhe, the promontory of the lirm, or water-fall. The chapel is aaid to appear on fire previous to the death of any of hia deacendanta. Thia superati- tion, noticed by Slezer, in hia Thtabrum Seotia, and alluded to in the text, ia probably of Norwegian derivation, and may iiave been imported by the Earla of Orkney into their L.thian dominiona. The tomb-fires of the north are mentioned in moat of the Sagas." (Scott). "It happened to the present writer one evening to be walking in the neighhonrhood of Roealyn, when he was atartled from thinking of other things by the appearance through the trees of what seemed a row of bright smokeless furnaces. It was a fine setting sun shining straight threugh the double windows of the Chapel. . . . Though the aet- ting aun doubtless penetrates through many other double ranges of windows, yet perhaps there were few which, a couple of centuries ago in Scotland, could have rendered it with the same remarkable effect." (BiUingi Baronial and Eccltriattiml AnIiquUia qf Scotland). 388. dcqi lacristy. The SacriMy is properly the place in the church where the sacred vessels and vestments are kept. Boslin chapel is built on the edge of a rapid slope ; on the aide of this slope it has a sort of extension upon a lower level, but not actually beneath the main building, which communicates with this extension by means of a deep staircase and vaulted passageway. The purpose of this small buildinp iaa matter of doubt, and, probably, Scott refers to it as a 'sacristy.' In that case, ilecp would be uaed in its ordinary sense, and not in tliat of " Far receding, extending far back," given in Stuart's edition. The former interpretation is favoured by the reading of the line in the first edition, " Both vaulted crypt." 392. piiuiet 'Pinnacle.' 400, 402. In each of these lines there is a letmtHe rhyme, i.e., a rhyme within the line. 401. With complete religious rites ; the phrase ia commonly uaed in omaection with formal excommunication by the Boman Catholic 166 WOTM. Church, vhen the book with the nrrioc for exoommnnloation wu read, the bell {<.r the dead tolled, and a lighted candle cart upon the ground. 428. tropUed beam. It wai ciutoniary to hang bannen and armour taken from an enumy in the hall, aa alao trophiea of the ohaae. 429. IcTin-bnud. ' Thunderbolt,' lee on IV., S19, above. 4M. Soott reUtea at lengtti a atory of an apparition in the ihape of a black dog that need to haunt Feel Caatle, in the ble of Man. A pot- valiant loldier ventured to follow the MaulKt-dof/, aa the apectre waa called ! a great noiae waa heard, the aoldier returned apeeohleaa, and ahortly after died in agony, but the dog waa aeen no moi«. 409. unicc. See on 11, 214, above. 460. baldric See on 11., 215, above. 469. St Bride of Douglas. " Thia waa a favonrite taint of the houae of Douglaa, and of the Earl of Angua in particular," {.Scott). 47S. St Modan. Abbot of Drybnrgh in the aeventh century. 478. St Mai7 of the Lowes. See on II. , 386, above. 477. Hold Rood of Lisle. Sea on IV., 481. •• Link (Vhlt) ia the older form of LUU, the name of the well-known French city." (Rol/e). 478. Our Ladye of the Isle. St. M&ry'a ble, cloae to the town of Kirkcudbright, formerly cculained a priory. 499. uneath. ' With difficulty,' ' hardly ' ; common in Spenaer, cf. Fiurit Queen, II. , i. , 27, " But hia 6erce f oe hia ateed could »tay uneath. " fiOO. bigh-drawn breath. The itanders-by could acarcely hear any ■ high-drawn breath' ; in other worda, the breathing waa all low-drawn. 606. high altar. The chief altar, the altar at the east end of the church. SIS. cowL 'Hood.' scapular. Part of the dreaa of the monaatio order*, conaiating of two bands of woollen stuff, one croaaing the back or ahouldert, and the other hanging down the breaat. 618. stoles. See on v., 606. 619. host ' The conaecrated wafer.' 632. office close. At the pauses of the office; ojiet in the sense ol a form of service (cf. 'office for the dead'); Rolfe considers 'office' here as possessive, but this does not seem necessary ; 'office' may be taken as a noun used as an adjective. 636. burthen. 'Refrain.' eum) JL 157 816417. The opaniog lioM o( one of the best known of medisvel Lktin bynuu, of pert of which, in xzxi. , 8«att gives a penphnwe. MS. Cf. II. Ptiar, iiL 12, "the coming of the dsy of (Um, wherein the hekven* l>eing on Are shall he dissolved, end the eleroekts shall melt with fervent heat." MO. Cf. I. CorlotUaaa, xv. 25, "The trumpet shall ound, and the dead shall be raised inoorruptible." MS. Newark's towtr. See IntroducUon, 27, and note. 808. BowhilL See note on IntratuclioH, S7, nlnivu. S72. Cartcrhugh. The pwiii™'* at the junction of the Ettrick and Yarrow.