
 
 <iS^; 
 
 
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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE, 
 
 POET'S REVERIR 
 
 WITH 
 
 OTHER POEMS, 
 
 Ife poeit in our youth begin in gladness, 
 
 But thereof comes in the end Despondency and Madness. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 'TtMiot, as heads that never ache suppose. 
 Forgery of fancy and a dream of woes. 
 Manis a harp, whose chords elude the sight, 
 Eachfuned to harmony disposed aright ; 
 The irews revered, a task which, if he please, 
 God, y a moment, executes with ease. 
 Ten itousand thousand strings at once go loose. 
 Lost, m he tune them, all their power and use. 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 THE SECOND EDITION, 
 i CORRECTED AND - ENLARGED. 
 
 t 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 Pkted by James Ballantyne and Co. 
 
 roil LONGMAN, I^JRST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, LONDON f 
 
 AND JOHi^ANDERSON AND CO., EDINBURGH. 
 
 1814.
 
 i -J 
 
 .jn. 
 
 Uailili
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 lage 
 
 Preface, ....... vi 
 
 Childe Alarique. Part First, 1 
 
 Part Second, 23 
 
 , Part Third, 45 
 
 Notes on Canto First, .... 71 
 
 Note on Canto Second, Y8 
 
 Notes on Canto Third, 79 
 
 Wallace, 83 
 
 Notes, 123 
 
 Fragment, 133 
 
 Notes, 143 
 
 Varia, 151 
 
 The Exile. Part First, 153 
 
 Part Second, 173 
 
 Childe Arthur, 183 
 
 Fragment, 198 
 
 Kenneth, 201 
 
 Fragment, 208
 
 11 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Fragment, 21 1 
 
 Fragment, ^ 215 
 
 Independence 220 
 
 Fragment, ... 225 
 
 Fragment, 230 
 
 Prince Ipommydon, ^ ^ ^ 252 
 
 Poems, ... ^ ...... 243 
 
 To Sir S. E. Brydges, K. J. M. P. on reading " Hasty 
 
 Lines," &c ^ . 245 
 
 On Reading the Lady of the Lake, May 12, 1810 ^. 24 
 
 Fragment, written in Glenfinlas, . 251 
 
 Elegy, 260 
 
 * 263 
 
 Oct, 26 267 
 
 Sonnet I 270 
 
 Sonnet II. On the Ruins of Kincardine Castle, 271 
 
 Sonnet III. On Rural Scenery, - - 272 
 
 Sonnet IV. On Visiting the Ruined Castle of Finclb, 
 
 Counteu of Angus, 273 
 
 Fragment, ^..^.......... ......^..........-..^ 275
 
 CHILDE ALARiaUE. 
 
 PART FIRST* 
 
 1. 
 
 ** Ye forests wide, from whom I feel the breath >j 
 
 Of spring, that bears ten thousand odours, blow! 
 Ye mountains, gay with, purple blooming heath, 
 
 Once more your scenery vanquishes my woe ! 
 Once more I feel poetic ardours glow ! 
 
 Through shadowy groves of never-fading pine, 
 I watch the ciystal currents glittering flow ; 
 
 Nor fairer rays within those waters shine. 
 Than bright responsive gleams of rapture that are mine ! 
 
 A
 
 4 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 2. 
 ** O fool to think, that never, never more 
 
 For me the pulse of joy would throb agam^ 
 "While yet far distant from the peaceful shore 
 
 I combated the waves and wintry rain, 
 And my frail bark was beaten back amain 
 
 To the wild sea where ceaseless tempests blew ! 
 But now, fast moor'd, I smile at former pain ; 
 
 Soft are the gales, the skies of lovely hue. 
 And all my infant raptures swell my heart anew. 
 
 3. 
 ** Oh, Heaven ! what ecstacy to weave agaia 
 
 The purple heath-bell into garlands wild ! 
 To meet in haimtcd giades the dryad train. 
 
 And Ircad the path I loved while yet a child 1
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 No more from these caJm solitudes exiled, 
 Struggling I'll join Ambition's venal crew; 
 
 But here, mid mountain steeps and woodlands wild, 
 The path of joy and ecstacy pursue, 
 
 And the sweet Muse that loves the mountain forest woo !*' 
 
 4. 
 Thus, as the well-known landscape open'd wide 
 
 Its varied treasures to his raptured sight, vf \ ,}' ' 
 With vernal hues and white haze beautified, * ' 
 
 And tinted here and there with radiance bright, 
 Childe Alarique 'gan utter his delight ^ 
 
 To the rude cliffs, beneath whose rocky steep. 
 In early days, full many a summer night 
 
 'Twas his in transport all dissolved to weep. 
 What time the fairy train their mystic revels keep.
 
 6 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 5. 
 
 Oh, who can tell the varied joys that wait 
 
 The young enthusiast in the lonely shade, 
 When, all entranced, he goes to meditate 
 
 On Nature, in her richest charms array'd ! 
 What artist e'er the magic hues pourtray*d 
 
 That float on hill and dale ! Ah, happy he, 
 If joys like these had not been doom'd to fade. 
 
 Like leaves in Autumn withering on the tree. 
 And yield to pale decay and ceaseless misery ! 
 
 6. 
 Go then, unapprehensive Youth ! explore 
 
 Whate'er of rapture woodland scenes can yield ! 
 On dauntless pinion let thy fancy soar, 
 
 And thousand airy structures busy build !
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 Be all of Nature's richest stores reveal'd 
 
 In sweet succession to thy watchful eye, 
 While yet the hues of glory light the field. 
 
 And yet is heard celestial harmony 
 From every copsewood grey and haunted steep on high ! 
 
 7. 
 See now, the Childe to coverts green repair 
 
 In the fair, blushing, dewy morn of May ; 
 "What bhss in every breath of " conunon air !" * 
 
 WTiat transport in the blackbird's choral lay ! 
 What grandeur in the landscape's fair array ! 
 
 But, ah ! what mortal strain his thoughts can tell, 
 
 What pencil could tlie melting forms pourtray, 
 
 That on his ravish'd sight inviting swell I 
 
 Oh, dreams beloved ! whilom I knew your influence well ! 
 
 10
 
 8 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 But now, alas ! my feeble mind no more 
 
 Is borne aloft on Fancy's azure wing ; 
 Those dreams have died, like ice-built temples hoar, 
 
 That &de before the first warm breath of spring *, 
 Or like the wreck of dry leaves rustleing, 
 
 That choak the pathway in November chill. 
 Childe Alarique i thy songs of gladness sing ; 
 
 For thee they blossom yet on dale and hill i 
 Pursue thy woodland path ; of joyaunce take thy fill ! 
 
 9. 
 
 Behold the Youth that late we left at mom, 
 Now eager watching the mild rays of even ; 
 
 While the loved woodlark firom his flowery thorn 
 Carols a vetpor hymn of praise to Heaven ;
 
 GHILDE ALARIQUE. 9 
 
 And in the breeze ten thousand odours driven^ 
 Bathe the Childe's forehead in ambrosial dew ! 
 
 What visions to his raptured sight are given ! 
 What shapes are glittering the copsewood through, 
 
 What-while fair twilight sheds her own enchanting hue ! 
 
 10. 
 
 What transport then on the cold reeds to lie. 
 
 That fringe, romantic Teith ! thy crystal tide. 
 And watch the wild tints of the evening sky 
 
 That linger on the mountain's rocky side, 
 Where the red heath-flowers double red are dyed ! 
 
 To mark the mystic trains that round him rise, 
 And, beckoning, through the tangled forest glide ! 
 
 To " hear the inexpressive harmonies. 
 That seem to float on earth, and warble through the skies."* 
 * These two lines are from " Psyche," by Mrs Tighe.
 
 10 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 m 
 
 11. 
 
 Then, too, the Childe unrolls the magic store 
 
 Of old romance ; imlocks the enchanted spring 
 Whence Milton drew his choicest draughts of yore ; 
 
 And now Imagination dares to bring 
 The forms of bleeding chief and scepter'd king, 
 
 That on the self-same plains had fought and died, 
 "Where now he bums to wake the trembling string. 
 
 And feels his heart dilate witli conscious pride. 
 That to those dauntless chiefs his spirit is allied. 
 
 13. 
 Pass we awhile the summer hours unsung, 
 
 And now the tranquil charms of autumn view ! 
 Behold the Childe in some rude cavern flung, 
 
 Weaving the heath-bell into garlands new ;
 
 CHILDE ALAKIQUE. 11 
 
 While the wide lake unfolds its waters blue, 
 Slumbering beneath the sun's attemper'd ray ; 
 
 And all is silent, save the plaintive coo 
 
 Of the lorn dove, or, screaming for his prey, " 
 
 The falcon's voice remote, from lonely summit grey.* 
 
 IS. 
 Or meet him wandering through thy rocky vale, 
 
 Glenfinlas, where, by watchful shepherds seen. 
 Ghosts of the mighty dead are known to sail. 
 
 And marshal shadowy troops upon the green : 
 See him, enraptured with the lovely scene, 
 
 By lone Moneira's current bend his way. 
 Till pensive Evening sheds her light serene ; 
 
 And now, to watch the tints of dying day, 
 Reclined upon the heath, his listless length he lay-
 
 it CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 14 
 
 Intent he gazes on the roseate dye 
 
 That lingering decks the chambers of the west ; 
 While not a voice disturbs the harmony-^ 
 
 The blissful calm that reigns within his breast 
 How still the woods ! All, all is hush'd to rest : 
 
 You hear the dry leaf parting from the tree. 
 But, lo ! what new enchantments are confest i 
 
 Why rolls his eye in kindling ecstacy ? 
 Why starts the Childe, amazed, from his tranquillity ? 
 
 15. 
 Is it tlie star of even that quits her sphere, 
 
 Descending to the darkUng realms below ? > 
 Behold on earth an angel form appear ! - 
 
 Art thou the messenger of joy or woe ?
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 13, 
 
 Celestial glories round the seraph glow 
 
 But now her heavenly features are reveal'd 
 
 Joy, joy alone from thy regards can flow. 
 Inhabitant of yon cerulean field ! , 
 
 Lowly the wondering Youth in adoration kneel'd.* 
 
 16. 
 Cheering with smiles ineffably serene, 
 
 Childe Alarique that angel form drew near : 
 Now on her arm an airy harp was seen, 
 
 And now her voice most ravishingly clear, 
 Now that enchanted harp salutes his ear ! 
 
 Deep in his bosom thrills the magic lay, 
 And kindling rapture vanquishes his fear. 
 
 When soft he hears that heavenly Minstrel say, 
 " Behold thy Guardian Power, and her behest obey
 
 14 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 17. 
 
 Take this enchanted harp, and swear to keep 
 
 Inviolate the laws which I impose : 
 Swear never more to tempt the raging deep, 
 
 By low ambition plunged in fruitless woes, 
 And I will shew thee whence true rapture flows ! 
 
 m build thee palaces in woodlands wild ! 
 Thou know'st the fragrance of the wild- briar rose; 
 
 Thou lovest the reign of summer evening mild ; 
 And thou shalt live as best befits the Muse's child/' 
 
 18. 
 Pass we unsung the wintry hours, and now 
 
 Behold the Childe in yon sequester'd glade : 
 Fresh leave* are bursting forth on every bough ; 
 
 The scenes in morning brilliance are array'd ;
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 15 
 
 Even the dark ravine, and the cliff display'd, 
 Where gleams the orient sun on Ben Venue; \ > 
 
 The woodlark carols clear in flowery shade ; 
 
 The blue lake glances fair the copsewood through, 
 
 And all is bright again and Paradise to view. j) jf 
 
 19. 
 Behold him listening to the legends hoar 
 
 Some venerable seer or shepherd tells ; 
 While, seated on Loch Katrine's wooded shore. 
 
 The landscape's fair expanse before him swells ; 
 Or in the rocky mountain's mystic dells, 
 
 Where Superstition holds her ancient reign, 
 And many a dreaded ghost and ourisk dwells, 
 
 Delighted watch the visionary train 
 Of images that float on his creative brain.
 
 18 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 20. 
 Or meet him when at eve the vapours pale 
 
 Float on the forest, and the verdant spray 
 Of weeping birch perfumes the southern gale ; 
 
 Behold him leave the banks of Loch Achray, 
 And throufih the rocky forest bend his way, 
 
 A wilderness of sweets beyond compare. 
 Till, gleaming wildly in the purple ray. 
 
 Loch Katrine opens wide her scenery fair ! 
 Oh for an angel's voice his transport to declare ! 
 
 31. 
 
 Not always in the wilderness astray, 
 Where late we left the visionary Childe, 
 
 Did Alarique devote the summer day 
 To faery dreaon of superstition wild ;
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 17. 
 
 Ofttimes his fleeting moments were beguiled 
 In lowland vales, where peacefiil hamlets smoke, 
 
 And where the mouldering towers sublimely piled 
 Of fortress old o'erhang the wooded rock, 
 
 There oft the raptured Youth poetic strains awoke. 
 
 22. 
 Oh, how enchanting, when the western gale 
 
 Unlocks the fragrant bud of verdant hue. 
 Again to wander through the steaming vale. 
 
 And hear the thrush his vernal song renew ! 
 To breathe ten thousand odours wafted through 
 
 The copse, where mingling birch and hazel twine, 
 And roam in thought the heaven's unclouded blue, 
 
 While " without effort flows the impassion'd"* line; 
 Oh days of fleeting bliss and ecstacy divine ! 
 
 * * And without efTort flows the impassion'd strain." Brydges.
 
 13 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 25. 
 But not in verse alone Childe Alaxique 
 
 Fix'd the wild forms of his creative brain : 
 In painting's glowing art he knew to seek 
 
 Sweet solace, when the visionary train 
 
 Of shapes came wildering on his sight amain 
 And when the magic tints of vernal light 
 
 Gleam'd with enchanting splendour on the plain, 
 He knew to arrest the lovely scenes aright. 
 
 And all their charms pourtray in kindred colours bright. 
 
 24. 
 And oh, how soothing at the close of day. 
 
 When Twilight's magic tints adorn the wood, 
 To explore some venerable ruin grey, 
 
 To him, I ween, no lonesome solitude ;
 
 CHILDE ALARiaUE. 1^ 
 
 For there the peerless maid of melting mood 
 Meets her fond lover, blushing like the morn ; 
 
 And champions fierce renew their ancient feud. 
 And wake on either side the signal horn. 
 
 By Fancy's power recalled from charnel-house forlorn. 
 
 25. 
 But not by Fancy's power alone was given 
 
 To people that old tower with maidens gay, 
 And knights and squires ; but duly when at even 
 
 Fair Twilight 'gan unfold her amber ray. 
 His guardian Genius thither bent her way. 
 
 Oh, she was fairer far than mortal maid ! 
 What artist might her lovely form pourtray. 
 
 When floating through the forest's dusky shade. 
 The radiance wild of evening on her features play'd ! 
 
 B
 
 20 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 26. 
 Her voice was sweeter than the blackbird's lay ; 
 
 With her the Childe explored the fragrant bowers ; 
 No more in solitude he passed the day 
 
 To her he gave both morn and evening hours. 
 With her he wove fresh wreaths of early flowers ; 
 
 With her he listened to the cheering song, 
 Which on the ear of night the skylark pours, 
 
 And heard the drowsy beetle borne along ; 
 Sweet soothing sounds, I ween, unknown to city throng ! 
 
 But, think not these were all the joys they knew ! 
 
 They twain did revel in the Naiads' court ; 
 And they did frolic with the Fairies too, 
 
 Which to the moonlight forest made resort.
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 21 
 
 Ah joys too little prized, of date how short ! 
 
 How soon your phantoms faded from the view ! 
 One fleeting summer passed in careless sport, 
 
 A gathering tempest o'er the woodlands threw 
 Its everlasting clouds of melancholy hue. 
 
 END OF PART FIRST.
 
 CHILDE ALARiaUE. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 Then whilst his throbbing veins beat high 
 
 With eroery impulse of delight ^ 
 Dash from his lips the cup of joy, 
 
 And shroud the scene in shades of night. 
 
 And let Despair with wizard light 
 Disclose the yawning gulph below, 
 
 And pour incessant on his sight 
 Her spectred ills and shapes of woe. 
 
 Tis done, t/ie powerful charm succeeds; 
 
 His high reluctant spirit bends; 
 In bitterness of soul he bleeds^ 
 
 Nor longer with his fate contends. 
 
 ROSCOE.
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 1. 
 
 Ah, me ! is this the Childe that wont to view 
 
 The simplest scene with kindling ecstacy ? 
 Ah, me ! his hollow cheek how pale of hue ! 
 
 How faded now the lustre of his eye ! 
 Joyless he roams the mountain scenery. 
 
 Or feebly drags his fainting steps along j 
 ^* He passes all he sees unheeded by :" * 
 
 In vain for him the woodlark's cheering song. 
 And all the charms that reign the vernal woods among ! 
 * Cowper.
 
 26 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 2. 
 
 Ah, me ! what grief to meet the western gale, 
 
 Yet feel within no joys responsive rise ! 
 To tread again the flower-bespangled vale, 
 
 The path that woke our infant ecstacies, 
 In years when every hour unheeded flies ! 
 
 To twine once more the vernal garland gay. 
 Yet feel that nought can sooth our agonies ; 
 
 That all our cherished dreams have fled away. 
 For ever fled nor aught can renovate their sway 
 
 S. 
 Yet now, when brightly gleams the noonday son, 
 
 And opes the landscape wide its fair array, 
 Will no faint trace of former joys be won ? 
 
 Nor when the southern breezes softly play,
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. it 
 
 Wafting the sweets of many a blossom'd spray 
 Nor when the skylark warbles loud and clear 
 
 Nor when through favourite scenes he bends his way, 
 Where Fancy's brightest visions did appear ? 
 
 No ! all to him is cold and desolate and drear. 
 
 4. 
 '* And have they died, and never, never more 
 
 To wake again, those visionary hues. 
 That wont to charm my woodland path of yore. 
 
 And n each mountain scene their light diffuse ? 
 Hast thou departed too, celestial Muse ! 
 
 No more to cheer thy votary's lonely way ? 
 Ah, me ! what soul-appaUing gloom ensues. 
 
 When thou withdraw'st thine animating sway ? 
 What reckless fiends e'en now are watching for their prey !
 
 sa CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 5. 
 ** Oh Heaven ! it is the blessed breath of spring ! 
 
 The groves again their green attire assume j 
 It is the blackbird loudly carolling ; 
 
 These are my favourite flowers that round me bloom ; 
 Oh what shall cure this everlasting gloom ? 
 
 What charm shall still the voice that seems to cry, 
 * Go to the chamel vault the rayless tomb 
 
 Here is no path in our sweet scenery 
 For thee^ detested child of guilt and misery !' 
 
 6. 
 ** Is this the radiant path I trod of yore ? 
 
 Green grows the grass the skylark soars on high ! 
 Lo ! yonder is the castled summit hoar, 
 
 Bcneatli whose cliff I watch'd the evening sky.
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 29 
 
 Oh, God ! the sunbeam sheds its brilliancy 
 On that surpassing scene ! but, ah ! for me 
 
 "What scene shall wake responsive ecstacy ? 
 Where is mine innocence ? mine inward glee ? 
 
 Oh, days of early bliss, how soon your transports flee !" 
 
 7. 
 Thus mourn'd the Childe with many a tear and sigh, 
 
 As on the grass his listless length he threw ; 
 "Where on his head the fragrant canopy 
 
 Of blossom'd wild-wood shed ambrosial dew. 
 In vain for him the ringdove's plaintive coo, 
 
 Or cuckoo's mirthful note is heard around ; 
 No charms his wonted raptures could renew. 
 
 Or quell the fiend Remorse, that grimly frown'd, 
 And stiU with blood-stain'd fangs infix'd the deadly wound.
 
 so CHILDE ALAUIQUE. 
 
 8. 
 In luckless hour did Braggadochio vilde' 
 
 His pastime in that wilderness pursue; 
 In luckless hour he met the happy Childe 
 
 Wandering as wont the mountain forest through. 
 In luckless hour, alas ! the Childe hie drew, 
 
 Reckless of his allegiance, from the shade 
 Where all his hours on wings of transport flew, 
 
 And straight to his accursed haunts convey'd, 
 Where Bacchanalian Rout and rude Disorder sway'd. 
 
 9. 
 'Twas on the chillest eve of chilling March, 
 
 And ** hoarse and high" the northern breezes blew 
 Through the dry branches of the leafless larch, 
 When echoing notes were heard the forest througfi.
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. SJ 
 
 Of hound and horse and horn ! a jovial crew 
 With laugh and shout approached the quiet bower. 
 
 Where, rapt in visions of celestial hue, 
 
 Childe Alarique was laid that luckless hour. 
 
 Ah ! where wert thou, sweet Muse, the poet's guardian power ! 
 
 10. 
 With song and laughter rude the Sorcerer vilde, 
 
 And robed in scarlet mantle rich and gay, 
 Entered the portal of that mansion wild, 
 
 And straight in accents bland began to say. 
 How he and all his train had lost their way. 
 
 And came for shelter from the winds of night 
 The luckless youth could not him answer nay, 
 
 But proffered food and rest ; and, stirring bright 
 The faggots on the hearth, awoke a cheering light.
 
 32 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 11. 
 
 Long time elapsed not ere his dangerous guest 
 
 Enquired, in well-feigned accents of surprise, 
 Why such a youth, with health and genius blest, 
 
 "Wasted his days so far from courtly joys ? 
 Replied the Childe, " To me this bower supplies 
 
 More charms than all the world besides could shew j 
 Nor would 1 change these lonely ccstacies, 
 
 For aught that courts and cities could bestow 
 Too well the grief that clouds their pageantry I know." 
 
 12. 
 Right artfully replied, with courage new. 
 
 The Sorcerer vile " O shame, O sophistry ! 
 Dccm'st thou that man no duties has to do. 
 
 But such as in those narrow limits lie
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. SS 
 
 No joys to taste to win no dignity ? 
 
 Shame on such coward creed ! Be thine to dwell 
 Where Virtue tried proves best her purity, 
 
 And Fame's inspiring trump has space to swell 
 To souls inglorious leave the rude inglorious cell." 
 
 IS, 
 'Twere long those artful speeches to recite, 
 
 Deep-fraught with sophisms false in lengthened chain ; 
 By which, at length, in Sohtude's despite, 
 
 The Youth he won to join his wicked train ; 
 And, once more combating the restless main. 
 
 To search for Joy, where Joy was never found, 
 For Virtue, where unbounded Vice did reign, 
 
 For Love and Sympathy, where all around. 
 
 Dead to each purer charm, in base delights were drown'd. 
 
 10
 
 34 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 14 
 
 An ** innocent crime" it was ; for magic art 
 
 Its blackness all in duty's veil array'd ; 
 But did no secret pangs invade his heart, 
 
 And did he quit with joy the peaceful shade ? 
 Oh, no ! the sigh, the starting tear, betrayed 
 
 The wasting throes of inward misery, 
 To leave the groves where, with the heavenly Maid, 
 
 'Twas his whilom the wild-flower wreath to tie, 
 And all his hours had fled on wings of ecstacy. 
 
 15. 
 
 Behold him now the sport of seas and wind, 
 On the wide waves of ocean tossed again, 
 
 All happiness, all virtue, lefl behind : 
 Nursing a brood of fancies wild and vain I
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 Loud sings the gale, the ship was tossed amain ; 
 
 And many an hour of toil and fear had they, 
 Ere that unlucky bark a port could gain 
 
 Of the proud city, where, in rich array, 
 Sojourned the unholy peers of Braggadochio gay. 
 
 Proud were that city's towers ; they rose on high, 
 
 Founded on rock sublime ; and all around 
 Were magic scenes of wild variety, 
 
 And seem'd, at distance, all was fairy-ground, 
 And Hope high raptures in the prospect found. 
 
 But when the voyagers, landed, did explore 
 The dusky streets and lanes that there abound ; 
 
 Or mingled with the crowd that thronged the shore 
 Oh, Christ ! their fairy dreams for ever all were o'er. 
 
 C
 
 S6 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 17. 
 
 It was, the sooth to say, a lovely place, 
 
 That Nature had created passing fair j 
 But it was peopled by a numerous race 
 
 That cared not what aspect the scenes did wear ; 
 Nor aught admired of beautiful or rare. 
 
 Sunk were they all in apathy profound. 
 And nought but sensual joys their hearts could share ! 
 
 The mind was wanting on that lovely ground, 
 To cast its own celestial light on all around. 
 
 Id. 
 
 As onward mid the crowded scenes they hie, 
 Elach countenance the Childe did read in vain 
 
 To find a trace of sensibility 
 All, all were furrow'd by base passion's reign,
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. S7 
 
 Or puffed and bloated by the pride of gain. 
 
 And in each glittering female, vainly, too, 
 He sought for charms that might the heart enchain, 
 
 Such as, of yore, amid the groves he knew. 
 Far, far remote, that now he never more might view. 
 
 19. 
 To him whose purer senses from the gale 
 
 Of springtide could urlmingled rapture gain ; 
 O weary, flat, unprofitable, stale 
 
 Were the coarse joys that grovelling minds enchain! 
 Though never yet did Vice his ear obtain, 
 
 But loathsome still appeared with all her wiles, 
 Yet, mingling with each base ignoble train. 
 
 Contagion dire his purity defiles. 
 And all his wonted gleams of ecstacy exiles.
 
 38 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 20. 
 
 Rescued from that accursed society, 
 
 And to the peaceful groves restored again, 
 Behold the Childe in vain each fountain try 
 
 To purify of sin the lurking stain ! 
 His days are spent in solitude and paio. 
 
 To the free mind of Innocence alone, 
 Pure as the breeze that sweeps the vernal plain, 
 
 Are the true pleasures of the wild-wood known. 
 And the bright formsthat play round Fancy's radiant throne. 
 
 21. 
 If chance, with trembling hand he touched the Ijrre 
 
 ITiat on the wild birch-bough suspended hung. 
 With feeble hope to wake the wonted fire. 
 
 What words can paint the grief bis heart that stung,
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 39 
 
 To hear the altered notes that feebly rung ! 
 
 Such notes, I ween, as those that now I raise, 
 Whose Doric lyre whilom loud accents flung ; 
 
 But now for ever hushed its ardent lays ! 
 For ever crushed and dead Hope's once resplendent blaze ! 
 
 22. 
 As when a grove of reverend trees in spring, 
 
 Smiling in all their luxury and pride, 
 And to the motion of the zephyr's wing 
 
 Casting their fragrance far on every side, 
 By the fell axe are laid in ruin wide, 
 
 Most desolate and mournful to the sight 
 Is the sad scene ! So, in that ruined mind 
 
 AH chill and blank became, and void of light, 
 That erst was filled with rays of genius passing bright.
 
 40 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 2d. 
 
 Mom after morn dawned on the wretched Childe, 
 
 The clouds rode gaily, and the breezes blew 
 Morn after morn, amid the woodlands wild, 
 
 He heard the bittern boom the ringdove coo : 
 The falcon screamed ; the cock fiill loudly crew 
 
 TTie scenes in brightest brilliance were arrayed 
 But from their charms the Childe no gladness drew 
 
 All seemed to him involved in blackest shade 
 " His" own dark cheerless ** mind his own" dark " dun- 
 geon" made. 
 
 24. 
 Past were the Spring's sweet reign ; the Summer's pride, 
 
 And Autumn's days serene ; November chill, 
 With darkening clouds, covered the mountain side. 
 
 Casting her influence drear on dale and hill
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 41 
 
 Dense wreaths of frost-fog 'gan each vale to fill, 
 And the sear leaves were torn by every wind , 
 
 Then first the Childe confessed a rising thrill 
 Of sympathy that soothed his troubled mind ; 
 
 And in the desolate scene sweet solace could he find. 
 
 25. 
 
 Midnight ; and on the woods most heavily 
 
 Slept the dull clouds ; the southern breezes blew, 
 And sung aloud their mournful minstrelsy ; 
 
 Seemed as a voice echoed the forest through. 
 That called the Childe to some aventure new ! 
 
 Forth rushed he then on the wide heath alone ; 
 Where nought was heard nor aught was there to view : 
 
 No murmur save the tempest's angry tone, 
 The river's distant roar, the mountain cataract's moan.
 
 42 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 26. 
 
 Anon, a form seemed into life to spring, 
 
 Most like a darker cloud Night's dusky reign 
 
 Usurping, as it moved on shadowy wing, 
 (Floating with fearful influence o'er the plain) 
 
 And now beside the Youth a place did gain ! 
 
 Most horrible it was : yet, strange to tell, 
 The Youth was drawn amid that spectre's train, 
 
 As by magnetic force or magic spell. 
 Resistless led along o'er moor and rock and fell. 
 
 27. 
 
 Tliat most unhappy Childe that would have fled, 
 
 Resistlcssly the fell flend led along 
 To the dread brink of the swollen river's bed -, 
 
 Then gibbcrings rose, and laughter, mid the throng, 
 6
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 43 
 
 That ever grieved at right rejoiced at wrong, 
 And all was well nigh lost ! But, lo ! the gleam 
 
 Of some new guest, breaks forth those fiends among. 
 And lights the waters of the turbid stream ; 
 
 Vanish the ghastly crew like some fantastic dream. 
 
 END OF PART SECOND.
 
 CHILDE ALARiaUE. 
 
 PART THIRD.
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 1. 
 
 As withered by the lightning's flash they fade, 
 
 And soothing music floats along the air, 
 Anon a Form in spotless garb arrayed * ^ 
 
 Stood smiling, where erst stood the fiend Despair- 
 Her own bright form shed its own lustre fair ; 
 
 But in her hand a dazzling light was seen, 
 A talisman, whose magic orbit rare 
 
 Shone like a sun-beam on the dusky treene,* 
 And on the torrent shed a radiance most serene. 
 
 * Treenet for trees, in Spenser and other old writers.
 
 48 CUILDE ALAIIIQUE. 
 
 2. 
 
 That hand extending, to the wondering Childe 
 
 She gave the lustrous gem ; and softly rose 
 Her accents, like a strain of music mild. 
 
 As to the Youth its matchless worth she shews : 
 " This talisman, best cure for earthly woes, 
 
 Receive, and bear it ever in thy sight ; 
 So shalt thou vanquish thine unholy foes, 
 
 And fail not, when thou mark'st its radiance bright, 
 To think on Her who gave the magic orb of light. 
 
 3. 
 " But if, through negligence or wicked art, 
 
 That magic orb no more thy guide shall be ; 
 If thou shalt fail to wear it next thy heart, 
 
 And still from slothful stain to keep it free.
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 49 
 
 And thou neglectest to remember me 
 O then, unhappy Childe ! beware the day ! 
 
 For thou shalt drink the cup of misery ! 
 No more the noontide glow, or evening ray. 
 
 Or aught of light and joy shall cheer thee on thy way !" 
 
 '*. 
 The vision fled ; but still the melting fall 
 
 Of heavenly music lingered on its way, 
 In long withdrawing notes, like those that call 
 
 Some sainted spirit to the realms of day;* 
 And still remained the unextinguished ray 
 
 Of that rare talisman, whose heavenly light 
 Poured a rich lustre mid the forest gray, 
 
 And emanated through the gloom of night 
 
 With soul-exalting influence, most divinely bright. 
 
 * " It seemed an angel's whispered call 
 To an expiring Saint.'* Bridal of Triermain.
 
 50 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 5. 
 
 The heavenly strains of soothing music died 
 
 Like the soft summer gale in languid mood ; 
 But the bright talisman was left to guide 
 
 His homeward steps amid the tangled wood. 
 The Youth, who, long by Melancholy's brood 
 
 Of hideous phantoms haunted night and day. 
 Felt all the bitterness of solitude. 
 
 Now saw the wonted forms in bright array 
 Arise with sunny smile to cheer his lonely way. 
 
 6. 
 
 Grovelling and false apostates all are they 
 Who tell us Nature has no charms to show, 
 
 When Winter's heavy clouds deform the day, 
 
 And on the woods their darkening shadows throw;
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 51 
 
 It is the influence dark of worldly woe, 
 
 And worldly wickedness that mars the scene : 
 
 From Nature's every change can transport flow 
 To the free mind of Innocence serene, 
 
 Alike in groves decayed, or prank't in freshest green. 
 
 7. 
 The soft south-west, pregnant with odours new 
 
 From the dank musky matted heaps that rose, ' 
 
 Perfumed the mountain-bowers ; and gently drew 
 
 With " breezy call" the Childe from his repose. 
 The while with gratitude his bosom glows 
 
 To her who saved him from the fiend Despair 
 And straight a strain of heavenly music rose, 
 
 And, for a moment, that bright form was there, 
 And with one rosy smile banished each lurking care. 
 
 D
 
 3 CHILDE ALAKIQUE. 
 
 8. 
 
 O bappy, happy Childe ! no^ not alone 
 Himself his own dark dungeon as before, 
 Is Alarique amid the wild- wood gone ; 
 
 No ! there were other brighter joys in store. 
 Though the sweet self-same Muse he loved of yore 
 
 Is absent, yet the talisman is there ! 
 And still, as, rapt, he muses more and more 
 
 On Her who gave the gem of lustre rare. 
 Again that form he sees that saved him from Despair. 
 
 9. 
 
 " On man accursed, whose dire dominion still 
 O'er all the inhabitants of earth and air 
 
 Tortures inflicts with diabolic skill, 
 On man himself, whom agonising Care,
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. SS 
 
 Whom dread Remorse and Apprehension tear. 
 And hydra Passion's multiplying brood 
 
 What mind can meditate and not despair, 
 And feel that nought in earth or air is good 
 
 But all is vice, and woe, and pain and solitude ? 
 
 10. 
 
 '* Who muses on this rank unweeded field. 
 
 Where nought but seeds of sin and grief have grown ; 
 If happy still, he faery dreams can build. 
 
 Must have a heart of iron or of stone : 
 Contentment here is wickedness alone ! 
 
 That man is wise and good who quits the scene, 
 Burst the base trammels of Delusion, 
 
 Leaving for lasting joys this " nook" obscene, 
 Or dies indeed and rests in endless sleep serene.
 
 54 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 11. 
 
 ** It must be so ! when closed tlie eyes that see, 
 
 The ears that hear and dead and cold the frame 
 And, mouldered down^ that frame has ceased to be, 
 
 Can sight, and touch, and hearing, be the same, 
 When turned to dust the organs whence they came ? 
 
 And what is Mind, but touch, and eye, and ear?" 
 So wont of old the Sophist to declaim. 
 
 But now the lustrous gem, with radiance clear. 
 Far banished from the Childe such dreams of grief and feav. 
 
 12. 
 The spells were broke that had enchained his mind. 
 
 And he had but to press the jewel bright, 
 And straight his heavenly guest, with glances kind, 
 
 Ilemoved entire the veil from off hig sight, 
 
 7
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 55 
 
 And straight his intellect was filled with light 
 The light of Hope and Confidence in Heaven ; 
 
 No more mid clouds of intellectual night. 
 
 His lonely bark on rocks and shoals was driven, 
 
 But all again was calm, and all his crimes forgiven. 
 
 13. 
 O pride, O narrowness ! O sophistiy 
 
 That seeks celestial mysteries to scan, 
 And deeds of God by human laws to try ! 
 
 Let man himself first answer. What is Man ? 
 Or what is thought ? what language ? what the plan. 
 
 That rears the simplest bud in Flora's train ?
 
 56 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 But leave awhile each object here below 
 
 That custom familiarises lift thine eye 
 To sights divine that such delight bestow, 
 
 That habit cannot quench our ecstacy ! 
 Look on the glories of the vaulted sky 
 
 The sun that pierces now the misty veil 
 The moon at even the countless worlds on high, 
 
 And other suns by distance rendered pal^ 
 Amid the mighty sea of boundless space that sail ! 
 
 15. 
 
 Can sights hkc these be viewed, and shall the mind^ 
 
 That for a while puts off its base alloy, 
 And soars to distant regions, unconfincdy 
 
 Not feel a rising gleam of hope and joy,
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 5 
 
 A confidence that nought can e'er destroy, 
 
 That there shall come a glorious time, when all 
 
 The doubts and fears that here the mind annoy. 
 Shall fade away as Night's retreating pall, 
 
 Before the Morning's ray, and " incense-breathing call?" 
 
 16. 
 
 " Now blow, thou southern breeze ! what ecstacy 
 
 To meet thy balmy breath with wonted glow 
 Now lour, ye dark clouds of the wintry sky 
 
 And on the woods your saddest influence throw- 
 Unwearied through the wild-wood let me go 
 
 Where the fallen leaves in matted volumes lie 
 And the swollen river's turbid currents flow 
 
 For now each varying aspect of the sky 
 Wakes inspiration new and meditations high !"
 
 5t CHILDE ALARIQUE, 
 
 17. 
 So sung the Childe, while through the groves he strayed. 
 
 And former transports all revived again ; 
 Beauties to him even wint'ry storms displayed, 
 
 When swept the driving darkening clouds amain ! 
 The wild heath dark of hue and dank with rain. 
 
 The desolate lake, the gray and watery sky, 
 The long grass rustling on the upland plain. 
 
 And all the scenes of wild variety 
 In Winter's mournful reign new rapture could supply. 
 
 18. 
 Even when arose the volumes vast on high 
 
 Of snow-clouds riding 6n the Borean gale> 
 
 When groaned the woods, and flocks and herds did fly 
 
 For shelter to the deepest rocky valo
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 59 
 
 Then, cheered by inward joys that never fail. 
 The happy Childe explored the wonted w^ood. 
 
 Trod the pure snows ; and when at evening pale 
 The tempest raged along in fiercer mood, 
 
 Homeward, rejoicing still, the well-known path pursued ! 
 
 19. 
 Then was that home enlivened by the lay 
 
 Of many a mighty bard ; and witchery 
 Of eloquence that never meets decay. 
 
 Lifted resistlessly the soul on high ; 
 And chief the legends wild of chivalry 
 
 "With eager hand did Alarique unroll. 
 The while (the wild blast idly sweeping by) 
 
 Their mysteries deeply sank into his soul, 
 And awful transport woke that yields not to controul.
 
 60 CHILDE ALAEIQUE. 
 
 20. 
 
 March came ; and brought the self-same wicked train. 
 
 With song and laughter, to the quiet bower ; 
 The self-same echoing sounds arose again ; 
 
 But Alarique was not alone that hour- 
 No ! the bright talisman, the heavenly Power, 
 
 Were there to save him from the fiends of Hell ; 
 Yet, sooth to say, so fiercely did he shower 
 
 Reproach and curses on the demons fell. 
 That almost had he lost the guide he loved so well. 
 
 21. 
 
 llie while his burning ire was wreaked on them 
 
 In fearfiil menaces and accents wild, 
 A demon dire had almost seized the gem ; 
 
 But be was checked by the awakening Child^
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 61. 
 
 That listened now to precepts meek and mild 
 Of Her who taught him, that the surest way 
 
 To quell that sorcerer and his demons vilde, 
 Was but to hear unmoved all they could say, 
 
 Reckless of all their wiles and magical array. 
 # * # 
 
 22. 
 
 'Tis night; but oh what nameless influence reigns? 
 
 What soothing balm is floating in the air ? 
 Tis night ; but are there not celestial strains, 
 
 Of power to cure all sadness but despair ? 
 Aye, wandering witch-notes sweet beyond compare 
 
 Rising at intervals ? O yes ! the lay 
 Of the gay woodlark from the forest fair. 
 
 And the loud blackbird hails the morning ray. 
 And thousand long-lost dreams the cheering call obey.
 
 62 CHILDE ALARIQDE. 
 
 Aye, morning dawns ; for on the mist-wreaths pale 
 
 Faint gleams of rosy light are shed j and lo 
 Tlie waters faintly gleaming in the vale ! 
 
 And now, O hearen ! behold the orient glow 
 Tliat o'er the eastern skies begins to throw 
 
 Enchanting influence ! while the dewy lawn 
 In diamonds decked unfolds a glittering shew. 
 
 And onwards move the glories of the Dawn, 
 And from the landscape fair the vapours are withdrawn. 
 
 24.. 
 But yet no foliage in proud canopy 
 
 Adorned the grove -, but many a budding spray 
 Gave promise fair of fiiture majesty 
 
 Whence odoura met the zephyrs on tlieir way i
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 6S 
 
 'Twas April, season of uncertain sway, 
 
 When fields of new-born verdure charm the sight, 
 
 And new-born flowers adorn the wanderer's way, 
 And the gay lark pursues his cheering flight 
 
 O days of soothing hope, and promise and delight ! 
 
 25. 
 Yet though no foliage wantoned in the gale. 
 
 To him who long to Pain and Woe the prey. 
 And haunted long by fiends and spectres pale, 
 
 Weary had passed the night, weary the day. 
 The simplest object in the forest gray. 
 
 The simplest note that met his watchful ear. 
 Brought thousand sunny forms in bright array. 
 
 Such as of yore his pathway wont to cheer 
 When all the scenes were gay and all the slyes were clear.
 
 64 CUILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 26. 
 O hues of glory well remembered still f 
 
 How break ye on my long bewildered brain ! 
 Effulgent rays that on the purple hill 
 
 Your purple tints oft poured at Evening's reign ! 
 Forms of magnificence that rose amain 
 
 How had ye all dissolved by chill decay ! 
 How were ye rent and scattered by the train 
 
 Of unrelenting fiends, that night and day 
 Fed on my wasted heart, and wore my life away ! 
 
 27. 
 Days, too too little prized, of pure delight 
 
 That fled on rapid wing. Oh yet again 
 Shall the same lovely charms salute my sight? 
 
 Shall I the same enchanting walks regain ?
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 65 
 
 Shall the same light revisit my parched brain 
 That shone by fits not duly prized of yore ? 
 
 Is that the skylark's voice, the blackbird's strain ? 
 Are those the morning mist-wreaths floating hoar? - 
 
 And shall these peacefiil shades my wonted peace restore? 
 
 28. 
 In lays incondite, thus Childe Alarique 
 
 Again his long-lost ecstacy exprest ; 
 The glow of gladness mantling on his cheek. 
 
 And new-born ardour rising in his breast, 
 Through the wild scenes his wonted way he prest. 
 
 And watched, entranced, the opening scenes of morn. 
 O boundless springs of rapture, purest, best. 
 
 To minds that Fancy's faery beams adorn, 
 By no dire self-reproach or worldly passions torn !
 
 66 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 
 
 29. 
 Henceforth, where'er the Childe his path pursued, 
 
 Even when through crowded scenes he dared to go. 
 He dwelt in that surpassing solitude 
 
 That few have known, and few shall ever know 
 He moved amid the scenes of vice and woe, 
 
 To him innocuous, trusting in the power 
 Of Her whose arm had saved him from the blow 
 
 Of the fell fiend Despair at midnight hour, 
 When the loud torrent raged, and darkest clouds did lour. 
 
 30. 
 Scarce is it mid the vernal woods more sweet 
 
 Than in the haunts of men, alone, to be j- 
 Where all is vice, woe, folly, and deceit 
 
 The bosom to preserve serene and free;
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 67 
 
 The varying scenes of various life to see. 
 
 Trusting in Heaven, that *' all shall yet be well," 
 
 Though now unsearchable is Heaven's decree ! 
 And feeling that " to doubt is to rebel," 
 
 Onward to go rejoiced till sounds the warning knell. * 
 
 SI. 
 
 And yet, the sooth to say, 'twas sweeter far 
 
 To thread the wild-wood mazes, and to view 
 The lake-waves glitter to the evening star. 
 
 And renovate the soul-enchanting hue 
 That poesy o'er all the wild-woods threw. 
 
 And meet again that Muse beloved of yore. 
 While, " purer from the searching fire," he knew 
 
 The soul more vigorous and apt to soar 
 Through Virtue's flowery paths to heights unknown before, 
 
 E
 
 68 CHILDE ALAaiQUE. 
 
 S2. 
 
 I write not to the dull unthinking few, 
 
 That need demand whence broke the heavenly ray 
 That o'er the Childe celestial influence threw ! 
 
 And feeble grows my voice ; and fast away 
 The visions from my raptured sight decay j 
 
 And ** pangs reviving rend my heart anew :'* 
 How quickly melts the vision's fair array ! 
 / How fast return the clouds of murky hue ! 
 And now the wild- wood scenes all vanish from my view. 
 
 SS. 
 
 But whoso loves the Youth, or loves the lay 
 That feebly strives his fortunes to declare, 
 
 Or loves in faery dreams to waste the day, 
 Let him to yonder lonely vale repair ;
 
 CHILDE ALARIQUE. 69 
 
 There sleeps the Childe ; and faery revellers there 
 Each night with freshest flowers the sod bestrew ; 
 
 And " light of heart" the " village maiden fair" 
 In " morn of May" oft glides the valley through, 
 
 And braids her Jiair with flowers besprent with fragrant 
 dew. J
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES ON CANTO FIRST. 
 
 ' Page 1. The following lines were suggested, 4'C.] The species 
 of vicissitude which the author has attempted to describe, has been 
 common to every highly-gifted mind from Shakspeare to Cowper. 
 Some of the noblest intellects have been overthrown in the strug- 
 gle. Others have been supported by that inestimable light of Reason, 
 which, though clouded for a while, was too powerful to be wholly 
 quenched. Shakspeare survived ; but Chatterton perished. Yet, who 
 that reads the speeches of Hamlet, or King Lear, or Jaques, or nu- 
 merous other passages that might be referred to, (more especially some 
 of the minor poems and sonnets,) fails to perceive the deepest and 
 most unequivocal tone of heart-rending and heart-felt despondency ? 
 
 6
 
 W NOTES. 
 
 If any truly poetical mind was ever free from this tendency, perhaps 
 it was that of Ariosto. Yet of him it is receded that be was never 
 seen to laugh, and rarely to smile. And of his irasdhility Sir John 
 Harrington gives a remarkable instance. See Hoole's lAfe of Ariosto, 
 p. xcL 1799, Bvo. 
 
 * Stanza 4. With vernal hues and ahite haze beautified.y-^Aimost 
 every one must have observed and felt the influence of that transpa< 
 rent haze which alwajrs attends fine weather; and forms almost the 
 greatest source of the picturesque. In a chill clear atmosphere even 
 the finest landscape loses at least half its charms. As I picture to 
 myself, the scenes that I have beheld under this influence, what re> 
 collections arise ! What emotions are called forth ! But these recol- 
 lected scenes are not, as Dr Beattie has said, ** illuminated with a sort 
 of purple light" Oh no ! that puqile light of gladness and of hope 
 has faded for ever. Through the cold medium of disappointment and 
 despair, and with the weight of accumulated sorrows on my heart, I 
 behold them ! It has been said that I have imitated Lord Byron in 
 my Poem ; after this note I shall at least not be accused of imitating 
 his style in my prote. But how little do such half-witted critics know 
 of Lord Byron and bow little do they know of me !
 
 NOTES. 75 
 
 ^ St. 4. Childe Alarique.] It is almost needless to observe that the 
 name Childe was immediately suggested by Lord Byron's admirable 
 romance. But the name only is borrowed. Childe Alarique is put 
 for any poetical character Burns, for example, or Cowper. 
 
 * St. 7. What bliu in every breath of " common air J'] 
 
 ** The meanest floret of the T^e, 
 The simplest note that swells the gale, 
 The common sun, the air, the skies. 
 To him are opening Paradise." Grat* 
 
 Perhaps there is not any poet, ancient or modern, who can furnish 
 so many exquisite lines within the compass of so small a volume as 
 the author of the fragment now quoted. How justly is it observed in 
 the Censura Literaria, that tlie whole body of English, or any other 
 poetry, cannot supply a finer verse than the following ! 
 
 " The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn." 
 
 ^ St. 10. And hear the inexpressive harmonies.] In alluding to Mrs 
 Tighe's poem, I cannot resist the temptation of transcribing these three 
 excellent stanzas.
 
 T6 NOTES. 
 
 1. 
 ** Deligbtful visions of my lonely hours, 
 
 Charm of my life and solace of my care, 
 O would the Muse but lend proportioned powers. 
 
 And give me language equal to declare 
 The wonders which she bids my fancy share, 
 
 When rapt in her to other worlds I fly, 
 See angel forms unutterably fair, 
 
 And hear the inexpressive harmony 
 That seems to float on air, and warble through the sky. 
 
 8. 
 
 " Might I the swiftly-glancing scenes recall. 
 
 Bright as the roseate clouds of summer's eve, 
 The dreams which hold my soul in willing thrall, 
 
 And half my visionary days deceive. 
 Communicable shape might then receive. 
 
 And other hearts be ravished with the strain { 
 Bat scarce I seek the airy threads to weave, 
 
 When quick confusion mocks the fruitless pain, 
 And all the faery forms are vanished from my brain. 
 
 S. 
 
 '* Fond dreamer, meditate thine idle song ; 
 
 But let thine idle song remain unknown : 
 The verse which cheers thy solitude prolong ; 
 
 What though it charm* no moments but thine owi,
 
 NOTES. 7? 
 
 Though thy loved Psyche smile for thee alone, 
 
 Still shall it yield thee pleasure, if not fame ; 
 And when, escaped from tumult, thou art flown 
 
 To thy dear silent hearth's inspiring flame, 
 There shall the tranquil Muse her happy votary claim." 
 
 Canto V, 
 
 Pure and elevated spirit ! Thy " dreams" have not all died with thee ! 
 But we wish for more. Why are the other writings of Mrs Tighe 
 suppressed ? Why are there no accompanying memoir, no letters, 
 no records of real life given with the poetry ? Or is all this still in 
 contemplation ? 1812. 
 
 * St. 12. The falconet voice remote.] The effect of the falcon's so- 
 litary cry is peculiarly fine amid the vast mountains of the Scottish 
 Highlands ; and is rendered still more striking when the deep stillness 
 of autumn reigns around. 
 
 7 St. 15. An angel-form.] This allegorical personage was designed 
 to represent the Genius of Poetry, or poetic inspiration.
 
 NOTE ON CANTO SECOND. 
 
 St 8. Braggadochio.] Put for any ordinary, unfeeling, boasting, 
 worldly-minded character. The character of Thurlow opposed to that 
 of Cowper, or the great dignitary who, when Ariosto presented to 
 him his Orlando, said *' where the devil have you picked up all this 
 nonsense ?' will perhaps occur to the reader. But I intended to sug- 
 gest a character, if possible, yet more debased and degraded a cha- 
 racter such as Bums too often encountered, and by whose influence 
 be was led into vice, and untimely ruin and decay.
 
 NOTES ON CANTO THIRD. 
 
 ' St. 1. A form in spotless garb arrayed.] By this personage the 
 author wished to represent Religion; by the celestial talisman, the 
 light of Reason and Conscience. It was the idea of the lamp of Alad- 
 din which suggested this. I had completely forgot the " celebrated 
 talisman of Oromanes," and was much amused by the coincidence* 
 when I lately read the firat of those excellent Tales, which form a 
 standard classic in every nursery, but which I had not seen for fif- 
 teen years. 
 
 * St. 30. Till sounds the warning knell.] This expression is not used 
 merely to furnish a rhyme, or eke out a stanza. It is suggested by 
 the recollection of some lines of Mr Strutt, in " The English Min- 
 strelsy," (Edin. 1810,) but I have not the book to refer to. 
 
 ' St. 33. It is perhaps needless to say that the concluding part of this 
 last stanza refers to a well-known passage in " The Minstrel." 
 
 * Tales of the Genit
 
 80 NOTES. 
 
 / 
 
 * The very day on which I had finisheti these three Cantos, I met, 
 for the first time, with a poem of Dr Seattle's, entitled The Triumph 
 of Melancholy, (Poems and Translations, Lond. 1760, ) in which there 
 is a coinddence of plan so clse with that of the preceding Reverie, 
 that I am tempted to add a few stanzas as a specimen. 
 
 " Memory, be still ! Why throng upon the thought 
 These scenes deep-stain'd with Sorrow's sable dye? 
 Hast thou in store no joy-illumin'd draught 
 To cheer bewilder'd Fancy's tearful eye ? 
 
 Yes from afar a landscape seems to rise, 
 Deckt gorgeous by the lavish hand of Spring ; 
 Thin gilded clouds float light along (he skies, 
 And laughing Loves disport on fluttering wing. 
 
 How blest the Youth in yonder valley laid! 
 Soft smiles in every conscious feature play, 
 While to the gale low-murmuring through the glade. 
 He tempers sweet his sprightly-warbliog lay. 
 
 Hail, Innocence ! whose bosom, all ferene. 
 
 Feels not fierce Passion's raviog tempest roll ! 
 
 Oh ne'er may Care distract (hat placid mieni 
 
 Oh ne'er may Doubt's dark shades o'erwhelm thy soul! 
 
 Reviewed by Mr Park in the Centura Literaria.
 
 NOTES. 81 
 
 Vain wish ! for lo, in gay attire conceaVd, 
 Yonder she comes ! the heart-inflaming fiend ! 
 (Will no kind Power the helpless stripling shield I) 
 Swift to her destined prey see Passion bend ! 
 
 Oh smile accurst to hide the worst designs ! 
 Now with blithe eye she wooes him to be blest, 
 While ronnd her arm unseen a serpent twines 
 And lO} she hurls it hissing at his breast ! 
 
 And, instant, lo, his dizzy eye-ball swims 
 Ghastly, and reddening darts a threatful glare ; 
 Pain with strong grasp distorts his writhing limbs, 
 And Fear's cold hand erects his bristling hair ! 
 
 Is this, O Life, is this thy boasted prime ? 
 And does thy spring no happier prospect yield ? 
 Why gilds the vernal snn thy gaudy clime. 
 When nipping mildews waste the flowery field ? 
 
 How Memory pains ! Let some gay theme beguile 
 The musing mind, and sooth to soft delight. 
 Ye images of woe, no more recoil} 
 Be life's past scenes wrapt in oblivious night. 
 
 THE END OF CHILDE ALARIQUE.
 
 WALLACE 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws 
 Its bleak shade alike on our joys and our woes ; 
 To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring ; 
 For which Joy has no balm and Affliction no sting. 
 
 Moore.
 
 u
 
 The following stanzas tvere suggested hy the re- 
 collection of some incidents and descriptions in that 
 powerful enchantress Miss Porter* s excellent ro- 
 mance, *' The Scottish Chiefs " from which, what- 
 ever merit they possess is derived. I have merely 
 turned into rugged verse a short fragment of that 
 highly-finished and admirable production, 
 
 I shall here briefly mention the incidents which 
 form the foundation of my Poem, 
 
 During a temporary absence of WaIuI. ace from 
 EllersUe, Hesilrigge, one of the petty tyrants em-
 
 86 
 
 ployed by the usurper Edward L for the oppres- 
 sion of Scotland, made a sudden attack on the cas- 
 tle, and barbarously murdered Lady Marion, the 
 lovely and amiable wife of the liero. 
 
 At the beginning of the following verses, Wal- 
 lace is supposed to be acquainted with this event, 
 and is introduced wandering amid wild scenery at 
 a considerable distance from EUerslie, and medi- 
 tating self-destruction, from wliich he is withheld by 
 the instigations of Revenge. At that moment his 
 old andfaitlifiil retainer, Halbert the Minstrel, aV' 
 rives, bearing the sword with which the villain per- 
 petrated the horrible deed* 
 
 JVhat follows is occupied in endeavouring to de- 
 scribe the hero's conflicting emotions of grief re-
 
 87 
 
 grety and indignation ; and in briefly commemora- 
 ting a few events 'which distinguish the commence- 
 ment of the wonderfid and interesting career, so 
 
 y 
 
 nobly described in the work to which I have al- 
 luded, 
 
 Julys, 1813.
 
 WALLACE: 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 1. 
 
 Then Memory brought the thousand charms in view 
 
 Of days too little prized, to wake no more; 
 And all the forms in faery colours drew 
 
 Of Love, and Hope, and Joy, that reigned of yore ; 
 Nor aught of sweetest ornament forbore j 
 
 TThen rushed the tide of present misery, 
 And all Imagination's cherished store 
 
 Resistless whelmed ; at once the vernal sky 
 Was wrapt in darkest clouds, and tempests wild and high.
 
 90 WALLACE. 
 
 2. 
 
 Night fell upon the woods, and heavily 
 
 Reposed upon the copse the vapours gray ; 
 "While all the air was filled most soothingly 
 
 With balmy odours from the wildwood spray ; 
 Night fell; and all was peace; but Wallace lay 
 
 Alone upon the heath, and fever's fire 
 And wild delirium on his frame did prey ; 
 
 While wandering witch-notes of the feathered choir, 
 Not joy, but fiercer thrills of anguish did inspire. 
 
 8. 
 
 ** O God, who rul'st on high" the unfinished jjrayer 
 
 Was checked by the o'erwhelming weight of woe, 
 And died in fearful accents of despair ; 
 
 From the high rock he marks the abyss below 
 
 6
 
 WALLACE. 91 
 
 In double darkness wrapt, and hears the flow 
 
 Of the swift currents echoing far remote ; 
 And sudden with awakening rapture's glow 
 
 Hails with delight the soul-enchanting thought, 
 Death yet is in his power the blissful calm he sought. 
 
 4. 
 Blame not, ye pious dull unthinking crew, 
 
 Who know not the dominion of despair j 
 Blame not the anguish which ye never knew, 
 
 Who know not Virtue's genuine glory fair. 
 Who know not those ecstatic sweets to share 
 
 That Nature gives and Genius wild and high ; 
 Blame not the lonely soul that thus could dare 
 
 The bold adventurous fearful change to try. 
 And leave at once a world of pain and misery.
 
 92 WALLACEw 
 
 s. 
 
 O soul ! what art thou when the magic bands 
 
 Of bright Imagination are untied ? 
 A wandering exile on unfriendly strands, 
 
 Witli nought but sin and woe on every side ! 
 When ardent fancy's faery hues have died. 
 
 What pain the dread realities inspire, 
 When all the angel forms that wont to glide 
 
 Mid the fair fields are changed to spectres dire. 
 For ever quenched and cold the Muse's mounting fire. 
 
 6. 
 Or when some dear-loved partner of our joys, 
 
 In whom we lived, who lived in us, is gone; 
 When for the soothing smile, the cheering voice. 
 
 Nought, nought is left but the cold marble stone
 
 WALLACE. 93 
 
 And dust enshrined, O then how heavy grown 
 
 Are all the glories of the vernal year. 
 How vainly from the verdant copsewood thrown 
 
 The varied woodnotes wild ! how changed appear 
 The meads of many flowers, the lake-waves sparkling clear ! 
 
 7* 
 And chief, if mid the stilly hours of night, 
 
 When all is hushed, and the soft vapours float 
 On wood and wold, and odours of delight 
 
 Rise from the groves, some wandering matin note 
 Has from the torpor of thy sorrow brought 
 
 The feelings keen of life-consuming woe^ 
 Then all the wild-wood scenes with rapture sought 
 
 In former hours bright visions to bestow, 
 But nerve the shrinking arm to point the impious blow. 
 
 JPF w * ^
 
 94 WALLACE. 
 
 8. 
 But on the wanderer fell the influence new 
 
 Of some high power, and rivetted awhile. 
 He stood upon the brink, then backward drew, 
 
 Where stood a Form with most unearthly smile. 
 Whose presence did his fell intent beguile ; 
 
 That loathly shape was rolled in vapours hoar, 
 That half-concealed his hell>bom features vile. 
 
 His right hand held a dagger stained with gore ; 
 " Diest thou? O base resolve ! thy just revenge forbore !" 
 
 9. 
 
 The Form decayed ; for on the eastern sky 
 
 A gleam of rising purple did appear, 
 But in the tangled wood a rutthng nigh 
 
 Proclaimed that one of mortal race drew near.
 
 WALLACE. 95 
 
 There is ! his hoary locks are thin and sere 
 His aged cheeks are worn by keenest woes : 
 
 A transient gleam of long-lost joy sincere 
 Rises in Halbert's eye, as now he knows 
 
 The Knight, and at his feet his way-worn frame he throws. 
 
 10. 
 
 They twain were silent, but the Minstrel drew 
 
 Forth from his mantle's fold a naked brand ; 
 It is the sword that Lady Marion slew. 
 
 When guided by the ruthless traitor's hand. 
 It is her blood whose drops congealed stand 
 
 On the sharp blade j her guiltless blood that cries 
 To heaven for vengeance on a murderous band ! 
 
 The knight received the sword with streaming eyes 
 Anon in fury sought to quell his miseries.
 
 9f WALLACE. 
 
 11. 
 
 And forward, forward through the scenes of morn^ 
 
 They twain the tangled pathway did pursue ; 
 The scenes to them so desolate and forlorn 
 
 Were decked by all that can enchant the view t 
 The woods were veiled in mist and hung with dew 
 
 The skies in purple brilliance were arrayed, 
 And all the scenes adorned with magic hue, 
 
 Ten thousand songsters from the flowery shade 
 Awoke the song of joy, and sweetest music made. 
 
 12. 
 
 The long, long valley opened on their view, 
 "Where seen afar the dancing waters shone ; 
 
 And flocks and herds reposing mid the dew, 
 And scattered hamlets fair to lok upon.
 
 WALLACE. 9r 
 
 And now an echoing blast the knight hath blown j 
 The well-known-bugle notes were heard afar, 
 
 Resounding 'aiid the cliffs and caverns lone : '^^ 
 
 Where all was peace, now all was roused for war, 
 
 As when a smiling sea the rising tempests mar. 
 
 13. 
 Then might you, from the tranquil hamlets, view 
 
 At once the shepherd gay and maiden fair, 
 Blythe as the sunbeams, pure as morning dew, 
 
 And aged dame, and seer with hoary hair. 
 And childhood's happy race come forth to share 
 
 The tidings which the echoing notes proclaim : 
 And many a shepherd from his heathy lair. 
 
 Where all night long the flocks a watcher claim. 
 Forth to the eye of day from his concealment came. '
 
 98 WALLACE. 
 
 u. 
 
 O happy, happy scene ! might this but last ! 
 
 Tell not, my song, how soon the charms decay ! 
 Tell not how these fair visions fade so fast. 
 
 That Memory scarce can tell they once had sway ! 
 Tell not how soon the bright hues melt away, 
 
 That o'er life's dread realities are cast, 
 How soon dark wintry clouds defoiin the day. 
 
 And Innocence and Bhss for ever past. 
 Fade like the autumn leaves from winter's withering blast. 
 
 15. 
 
 So fares it with each earthly gleam of joy, 
 A then it fared in that sweet pastoral vale ; 
 
 Now all is calm and sheltered from annoy. 
 Now all o'erwhelmed in wintry tempests pale
 
 WALLACE. 99 
 
 O Disappointment ! stern supporter ! hail, 
 
 Give to my soul thy animating glow \ 
 Give me to prize whate'er within the pale 
 
 Of mortal grasp of happiness can flow, 
 And seize each fleeting bliss bestowed on man below 1 
 
 16. 
 The Knight, that in the shock of headlong speed 
 
 But sought to lose the o'erwhelming sense of woe, 
 In silence hurried on through moor and mead, 
 
 And to his aged follower left to shew 
 The cause that gave that echoing blast to blow. 
 
 Then quick as meteor might'st thou mark the fire 
 Of martial ardour through the valley glow 
 
 And armour donned in haste by son and sire, 
 And even the sorrowful maids to join their aid conspire. 
 
 G
 
 100 WALLACB. 
 
 The sun shone brightly and the breezes blew, 
 
 And onward with unwearied pace they fare, 
 From crag to crag the tangled path pursue : 
 
 Little recked they of Nature's beauties rare ; 
 Nor staid the sweets of sylvan scene to share, 
 
 But forward, as the lion to his prey. 
 Right on they go through rocky pathways bare, 
 
 Till well nigh done was the sweet vernal day, 
 And the sun shot afar his level streaming ray. 
 
 18. 
 
 Then had they come to lovely EllersUe, 
 Lovely alas ! of yore, and jocund too ! 
 
 Yet lovely in decay ! the brilliancy 
 
 Of setting sunbeams gave the scene to view.
 
 WALLACE. ,01 
 
 The groves that late were decked in many a hue 
 Of brightest bloom, a wilderness of flowers. 
 
 Were scorched and dead ; black smoke and ashes threw 
 Their sooty veil o'er the once happy bowers ; 
 
 O days too lightly prized and aye-departed hours ! 
 
 19. 
 O life ! how soon thy vernal charms decay, 
 
 Even though by fell misfortune unassaiied, 
 Thy joys the short gleams of an April day, 
 
 How soon by gathering clouds and tempests veiled ( 
 With cries of vengeance now the warriors hailed 
 
 The towers of EUerslie erewhile so fair, 
 Where all the horrors of decay prevailed. 
 
 And yet the smouldering embers tinged the air 
 With lurid smoke, and all was ruin and despair.
 
 102 WALLACE. 
 
 20. 
 
 The Knight but cast one look of anguish keen^ 
 
 "Where once had flourished his sweet lady's bower. 
 Then turned him from the soul-distracting scene, 
 
 "While doubled terrors on his brow did lour. 
 Fast, fast they hied them from the ruined tower 
 
 And the sweet sylvan vale, and now the day 
 Was done indeed, and twilight 'gan to pour 
 
 Her mellow light ; then in the south the ray 
 Of moonlight fair arose, and led them on their way. 
 
 21. 
 
 The town was hushed, and all seemed slumbering there. 
 Only the watcher on tlie tower appeared ; 
 
 But Heaven seemed in their entcrprize to share, 
 And Wallace witli a shout the fosse has clearetl.
 
 WALLACE. 103 
 
 And his brave band by his example cheered, 
 Close following, their leader's steps pursue: 
 
 The while his threatening arm on high upreared,! v , ' [ 
 Awed the weak sentinel, his followers true v" a . 
 
 Right onward to his aid with rapid progress drew, 
 
 -. y_ 22. : < 
 
 Pass we the scene of blood j the moon on high 
 
 That saw the avenger's warlike band draw near, 
 Saw them depart; the murderer lifeless lie. 
 
 Ghastly in death : the rising radiance clear 
 Of gentle morning 'gan the woods to cheer, 
 
 When they the well-known valley did regain. 
 Where all the scenes in wonted charms appear j 
 
 Alas ! to bosoms torn by cureless pain. 
 Such charms are mockery all ! such landscape smiles in vain.
 
 104 WALLACE. 
 
 23. 
 The rustic maidens, innocent and gay, 
 
 Prepare the couch for way-worn warrior meet, 
 Who from the dawning of a former day 
 
 Had toiled the work of vengeance to complete ; 
 And Wallace, mid the cavern's dim retreat. 
 
 Found shelter from the gari^ eye of day ; 
 Vengeance was wreaked ; the balmy odours sweet 
 
 Of heath flowers bathed his forehead as he lay ; 
 And for a space in sleep bis anguish died away. 
 
 Then rose the form (as erst to Petrarch's eye 
 His Laura's shade) of Marion, heavenly fair ; 
 
 Then faded slow ; and rising harmony 
 Told of the matchless joys that angels share,
 
 WALLACE. 105 
 
 Yet left a dreary void for dire despair 
 
 Anon that dreary void was filled anew 
 By sounds and shapes of wondrous import rare, 
 
 And tinged by radiance of enchanting hue 
 Most earnestly on them the hero fixed his view.-^ 
 
 25. 
 A female form arose, of loveliness, 
 
 But she was bathed in tears, and all around 
 Were sights and sounds of pain and wretchedness ; 
 
 And all with chains that lovely dame was bound. 
 And now she kneeled upon the scorched ground 
 
 The while her merciless enemy reared on high 
 A blood-stained brand, still threatening many a wound, 
 
 And nought was given unto the hopeless eye 
 But images of woe, and want, and misery.
 
 106. WALLACE. 
 
 Then might'st thou mark the Autumn's golden store 
 
 In flames ascend ; anon in ashes lie ; 
 And cities razed; and hamlets of the poor; t- ?. 
 
 A dusky waste most mournful to the eye. 
 The " monuments" of England's *' cruelty." * 
 
 Sudden that lovely dame, a transient ray 
 Of hope reviving, looked imploringly 
 
 On Wallace, and for vengeance seemed to pray 
 On the fell bands that wrought that ruin and decay. 
 
 27. 
 Thereon a burst of heavenly music rose, 
 A long unearthly strain of sweetness rare; 
 
 * In smoky ruins sunk they lie, 
 The monuments of cruelty. 
 
 Smollett.
 
 WALLACE. lOr 
 
 And to the watcher's eye the scenes disclose 
 A form whose charms what minstrel might declare ? 
 
 Her right hand held a verdant chaplet fair 
 Of laurel leaves ; her left a trmnpet bore ; 
 
 *' Thy love is gone the joys of Heaven to share j 
 " And wilt thou die for her and love no more ? 
 
 *' No, thou shalt live for me, and Scotland's weal restore !' 
 
 28. 
 The sky-lark mounting 'mid the realms of day. 
 
 Was carolling his joyful song on high; 
 Anon the magic visions died away, 
 
 And space was left for dread reality j 
 And with a groan of wakening agony 
 
 The hero met the sun's inspiring ray 
 " O Marion blest ! O days of ecstacy.
 
 108 WALLACE. 
 
 " Ere duly prized, for ever fled a^way !" 
 Lowly upon the earth the vanquished victor lay; 
 
 '. j'iwl ; ! r " 
 29. 
 A lovely sylvan scene it wa, where high 
 
 The wooded rocks in wild luxuriance piled. 
 Rose circular in awful canopy, 
 And all beneath sweet greensward tomham * smiled, 
 
 The following account of tmhan$ is taken from an author whose 
 descriptions of Highland scenery seem always written from the dic- 
 tates of genuine feeling, aqd are therefore animated with all the fresh- 
 ness and breatliing beauty of reality, 
 
 " The fairy mounts, or little r^ularly formed cones, which abound 
 so much in the Highlands, have been from time immemorial account- 
 ed the abode of fairies. In some placet, as at the foot of the moun<
 
 WALLACE. 109 
 
 And murmuring streams the weary mind beguiled : 
 There never foot of man had trod before ; 
 
 The tranquil solitude was undefiled, 
 A virgin fortress : and boon Nature's store 
 
 Of fruits and wild flowers bright adorned the mountains hoar. 
 
 tain Corryarick, on the south side, a large space of ground is entirely 
 covered with them. These are most regularly formed of equal siie, 
 and covered with the bilberry and fox-glove, 
 
 " All along that road numbers of these conical hillocks are seen 
 rising in dry gravelly ground, and thickly covered with heath ; where- 
 as at Lochan Uvie, they rise at a broader base, with a conical summit, 
 to the height of eight or ten feet, and are covered with diminutive 
 birch. The perfect regularity of their form, their resemblance to each 
 other, and the light foliage constantly playing round them, give a sin- 
 gular and fantastic appearance to the scenery. 
 
 " Here the fairies are supposed to dwell, and the children's nursery 
 tales are full of wonders performed by the secret dwellers of these 
 tomhans, or fairy hillocks." Mrs Grant's Essays, L 280.
 
 110 WALLACE. 
 
 > V 30. 
 There notes divine of Heaven's own minstrelsy 
 
 Rung to the echoes of the rocks around, 
 And mingled with the ceaselej^ accents high 
 
 Of foaming cataracts that their way had wound 
 From ledge to ledge of rock ; or under ground 
 
 Their secret course they took, and'^trangely lent 
 To watchful ears variety of sound 
 
 In sooth through all the faery scenes were blent 
 All sweetest sights and sounds for lonely merriment. 
 
 31. 
 
 The lonely wanderer that had thither come, 
 
 If wanderer e'er had thither bent bis way, 
 
 Beneath the shelter of the sylvan dome 
 
 Might joyful pass the longest summer's day, 
 
 6
 
 WALLACE. Ill 
 
 Nor e'er become to weariness the prey ; 
 
 So many varied treasures there abound 
 O sweet to hear the foaming currents play ! 
 
 O sweet to sit with rustic garlands crowned, 
 Or search amid the rocks for caverns most profound \ 
 
 32. 
 By the fair features of the sylvan scene 
 
 Entranced, almost I had forgot to tell 
 That in the lovely wilderness serene ' 
 
 Sequestered far, an Eremite did dwell ; 
 Yet if to mortal wanderer befell 
 
 To tread that sylvan wild, yet never one 
 That dared against the will of God rebel, 
 
 Or innocent blood had shed, or deed had done, 
 Or thought conceived of ill, that paradise had won.
 
 lit WALLACE. 
 
 33. 
 No this old Hermit was a sinless soul, 
 
 That loved his beads to tell both night and day ; 
 Nor knew the stain of worldly passions foul. 
 
 Nor impulses of sin did e'er obey ; 
 'Mid the deep caverns of the mountain grey 
 
 His dwelling was, whence loved he still to view 
 The varied woodland charms that round him lay ; 
 
 The while Devotion on the scenery threw 
 Her own enchanting light of purest heavenly hue. 
 
 S4*. 
 
 But yet the Wallace and his armed train 
 Knew not the presence of the Hermit old ; 
 
 But gladly saw that all pursuit was vain, 
 And with delight their fortress 'gan behold,
 
 WALLACE. 113 
 
 Where still so far the ponderous fragments rolled 
 
 Their bulk enormous on the inward dell, 
 So many secret caverns did unfold, 
 
 That 'mid the fastness of this rocky cell 
 Free from each hostile band they might in safety dwell. 
 
 S5. 
 
 And Halbert had to Bothwell sped the while, 
 
 To raise the friends of Liberty and Fame j 
 And they had but the moments to b^aUe, 
 
 Till the brave Murray to their rescue came j 
 Meanwhile the youthful band would ditties frame 
 
 Of pastoral joy, yet more of chivalry ; 
 Nor needs there pastime rude or artful game 
 
 For solace of their idlesse hours to try 5 
 Nor languishment they knew 'mid that sweet scenery.
 
 lU WALLACE. 
 
 86. 
 
 There greensward tomhans, lovely to behold. 
 
 With wild-wood crowned, arose, and many a flower. 
 Where fiiery trains their mystic revels hold. 
 
 Still by the moonlight pale at midnight hour ; 
 And still the crystal streams their waters pour. 
 
 Murmuring those haunted eminences among , 
 And O how sweetly from the secret bower 
 
 Awakes the woodlark gay his cheering song ! 
 Him join the blackbird loud, and all the feathered throng. 
 
 87. 
 In such a scene, at such a season gay, 
 
 How beats the swelling heart attuned to joy 1 
 How quickly fades each darkening trace away, 
 
 Of earthly passion vain, and base annoy !
 
 WALLACE. 115 
 
 (For even the lightest hearts have some alloy 
 
 Of mortal care) but to the widowed heart 
 Whom wonted charms can never more employ. 
 
 Such beauties but increase the cruel smart, 
 And fiercer throbs of woe and fond regret impart. 
 
 38. 
 
 Thus fared the Knight from rock to rock he went 
 
 Each rocky path and object to e:5^plore, 
 And waste in bodily toil his discontent ; 
 
 And now he finds a secret archway hoar ; 
 A channel deep it was that torrents wore 
 
 Of wintry tempests bred ; but now the flow 
 Of those unruly cataracts was o'er, 
 
 And lichens on the grey rocks 'gan to grow, 
 And spear-grass to ascend, and vernal flowers to blow. 
 
 H
 
 116 WALLACE. 
 
 39. 
 
 This pathway found, with gratitude the band 
 
 Gladly each rude impediment clear away. 
 That might their sudden secret march withstand ; 
 
 And when they gain the beams of upper day, 
 Most carefuUy a covering they lay 
 
 To veil the portal from invaders' view ; 
 And thence departing, with like toil assay 
 
 Their first-found path from every hostile crew. 
 With ponderous rocks to bar, and boughs of verdant hue. 
 
 40. 
 
 Night fell, and not, as wont, did lingering light 
 Cheer the fair chambers of the northern heaven. 
 
 But gathering storms and phantoms of affright 
 In wild disorder o'er the skies were driven ;
 
 WALLACE. 117 
 
 Nor aught of soothing moonlight ray was given : 
 Night fell ; and darkness brooded on the scene ; 
 
 While Wallace watched the darkening clouds of even, ^ 
 First, for a space^ he owned a mood serene 
 
 Steal on his hearty the gift of sympathy I ween. 
 
 41. 
 Most mournful to Misfortune's heavy eye 
 
 Is the fair scene when vernal sunbeams glow, 
 But when the clouds of eve portentously 
 
 Settle around, and rising night-winds blow, 
 Or when sweet Autumn's last, last lingering shew 
 
 Of yellow gleams is past, and damp and brown 
 The leaves in sooty wreaths are strewed below 
 
 The parent boughs, and clouds the mountain crown_, 
 Then even, Despair, thine heart a transient joy must own !
 
 118 WALLACE. 
 
 42. 
 But, hark ! O whence the fearful sounds that rise. 
 
 Borne on the gale ? what wanderers are nigh ? 
 Is it the fell Fiend's fatal witcheries, 
 
 That seeks the good to ruin to decoy ; 
 Is it some victim sad of treachery, 
 
 Struggling beneath the assassin's pitiless blow ? 
 Hark, hark again ! from yonder summit high. 
 
 Where a faint gleam of twilight seems to glow, 
 The fearful shrieks arc borne j *' What ho ! brave com- 
 rades, ho!" 
 
 43. 
 Fast, fast as wild-fire through the secret way, 
 
 The armament their hurried course pursue. 
 Till the wide heath they tread, where not a ray 
 
 Of moonlight tremblingly gives aught to view
 
 WALLACE. 119 
 
 But hark again ! his sword each warrior drew. 
 
 And by the sound directed 'gan to fly 
 But now, the louring tempest breaking through, 
 
 A gleam of moonlight lights the scenery. 
 And straight reveals a scene of direst cruelty. 
 
 4.4.. 
 There lay upon the heath a lovely forin. 
 
 That with a reckless demon struggled sore 
 (For none, save demon, fell as midnight storm. 
 
 To loveliness such malice ever bore.) 
 At once the patriot band in wrath him tore 
 
 From his fair prey, and him with fetters bound. 
 And his detested train, resistance o'er. 
 
 And man by man laid prostrate on the ground. 
 
 Fit guerdon for their deeds in chains and fetters found. 
 
 # # * # #
 
 ISO WALLACE. 
 
 45. 
 The Maiden woke, and lovely lustre shone 
 
 In the full orb of her inspiring eye ; 
 Whence beams of hope and fortitude were thrown 
 
 On her deliverers brave inchantingly ; 
 Sweet as the moon-beam's mild serenity, 
 
 That speaks unto the riven heart of woe. 
 And bids the phantom forms of madness fly ; 
 
 46. 
 So woke the Maiden soothing as the ray 
 
 Of moonlight lovely as the beam of morn, 
 When emanating through the frost-fog grey. 
 Whose banners Autumn's fairy scenes adorn ; 
 * An unfinished stanzu.
 
 WALLACE. 121 
 
 (O what a tide of cherished thoughts are borne 
 Swift on my soul !) but now the Maiden bright, 
 
 When left amid that rocky cell forlorn, 
 
 None present save the Eremite and Knight, 
 
 Most fearful tidings told, and treacheries brought to light.
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE I. 
 
 Stanzas 9, 10. " But what of my wife, Halbert; why tell me of 
 others before of her ? surely she remembers me ! some message !" 
 
 "Yes, my dear Lord;" cried Halbert, throwing himself on his 
 knees in a paroxysm of mental agony ; ** she remembers you where 
 best her prayers can be heard. She kneels for her beloved Wallace 
 before the throne of God !" 
 
 *' Halbert !" cried Sir William, in a low and fearful voice, " what 
 do you say? my Marion speak ! tell me in one word she lives !" 
 
 " In heaven." 
 
 At this confirmation of a sudden terror, imbibed from the ambigu- 
 ous words of Halbert, and which his fond heart would not allow him 
 to acknowledge to himself, he covered his face with his hands, and 
 fell back with a deep groan against the side of the cavern. The hor- 
 rid idea of premature maternal pains, occasioned by anguish for him ; 
 of her consequent death, involving perhaps that of her infant, struck
 
 126 NOTES. 
 
 him to the soul ; a mist seemed passing over his eyes, life was rece- 
 ding ; and gladly did he believe he felt his spirit on the eve of joining 
 her's. 
 
 Halbert, thinking that he had revealed the worst in declaring that 
 the idol of his master's heart no longer existed for him in this world, 
 went on " her latest breath was spent in prayer for you. My WaU 
 lacci were the last words her angel spirit uttered as it issued from her 
 bleeding wounds." 
 
 The cry that burst from the heart of Wallace as he started on his 
 feet at this horrible disclosure, seemed to pierce through all the re- 
 cesses of the glen, and with an instantaneous and dismal return, was 
 re-echoed from rock to rock. Halbert threw his arms round his mas* 
 tor's knees. The frantic blaze of his eyes struck him with aflright. 
 " Hear roe, my Lord ! fbir the sake of your wife, now an angel ho- 
 vering near you, hear what I have to say !" 
 
 Wallace looked around him with a wild countenance My Ma- 
 rion near me ! Blessed spirit ! Oh, my murdered wife, my unborn 
 babe ! Who made those wounds ? Tell me," cried he, throwing him- 
 self down on the ground, and seixing Halbert with a tremendous 
 though unconscious grasp ; " Tell me, who had tiic heart to aim ft 
 deadly blow at that angel's life V*
 
 NOTES. 127 
 
 " The governor of Lanark," replied Halbert. 
 
 " How ? For what ?*' demanded Wallace, with the terrific glare of 
 madness shooting from his eyes ; ** my wife, my wife ! what had she 
 done?" 
 
 " He came at the head of a band of ruffians ; and seizing my lady, 
 commanded her, on the peril of her life, to declare where you and 
 the Earl of Mar and the box of treasure were concealed. My lady 
 persisted to refuse him information, and in a deadly rage, before I 
 was aware, he plunged his sword into her breast." Wallace clench- 
 ed his hands over his face, and Halbert went on ; " before he had 
 aimed a second blow, I had broken from the men who held me, and 
 thrown myself on her bosom, but all could not save her; through 
 my neck the villain's sword penetrated her heart." 
 
 " Great God !" exclaimed Wallace, again springing on his feet ; 
 dost thou hear this murder :" His hands were stretched towards 
 Heaven ; then falling on lu's knees, with his eyes fixed, and bis arms 
 yet extended, " Give me power. Almighty Judge !" he cried, " to 
 assert thy justice. Let me avenge this angel's blood, and then take 
 me to thyself!" 
 
 " My gracious master !" cried Halbert, seeing him rise with a stern 
 composure from his knees; " here is the fatal sword with which the
 
 128 NOTES. 
 
 crud governor killed my lady. The blood on it is sacred, and I 
 brouglit it to you." 
 
 Wallace took it in his hand. He gazed at it, touched it, and kiss- 
 ed it frantickly. The blade was hardly yet dry, and the ensanguined 
 hue came off upon the pressure. *' Marion ! Marion !" cried he, 
 " is it thine Does thy blood stain my lip !" he paused for a mo- 
 ment, leam'ng his burning forehead against the fatal blade ; then look- 
 ing up with a terrific smile, " Beloved of my soul, never shall this 
 sword leave my hand till it has drunk the life-blood of thy murderer." 
 Scottish Chiefs, vol. I. 121. 
 
 NOTE n. 
 
 Stanzttt U, 12, 18. Halbert now followed the rapid steps of Wal- 
 lace, who, assisting the feeble limbs of his faithful servant, drew him 
 up the precipitous side of the Lin ; and then le^ing from rock to 
 rock, awaited with impatience the slower advances of the poor old 
 harper as he crept round a circuit of overhanging cliffs, to join him on 
 the summit of the crags. 
 
 Together they struck into the most inaccessible defiles of the moun- 
 tains, and proceeded, till, by the smoke, whitening with its ascend- 
 ing curls the black sides of the impending rocks, Wallace saw he was
 
 NOTES. 129 
 
 near the objects of his search. He sprung on a high cliff which pro- 
 jected over this mountain valley, and blowing his bugle with a few 
 notes f the well-known pibroch of Lanarkshire, was answered by the 
 reverberation of a thousand echoes. 
 
 At the loved sounds, which had not dared to visit their ears since 
 the Scottish standard was lowered to Edward, the hills seemed teem- 
 ing with life. Men rushed from their fastnesses, and women with 
 their babes eagerly followed, to see whence sprung a summons so 
 dear to every Scottish heart. Wallace stood on the cliff like the 
 newly-aroused genius of his suffering country. His long plaid floated 
 afar, and his glittering hair streaming on the blast, seemed to mingle 
 with the golden fires which shot from the heavens. Wallace raised 
 his eyes ; a clash, as of the tumult of contending armies, filled the 
 sky; and flames and flashing steel, and the horrid red of battle, 
 streamed from the clouds upon the hills. 
 
 *' Scotsmen!" cried Wallace, waving the fatal sword, which blazed 
 in the glare of these northern lights like a flaming brand, " behold 
 how the heavens cry aloud to you. I come in the name of all ye hold 
 dear, of yur lives, your liberties, and of the wives of your bosoms, 
 and the children now in their arras ! the poniard of England is un- 
 sheathed : Innocence, age, and infancy, fall before it. With this
 
 130 NOTES. 
 
 sword, last night, did Hesselrigge, the English tyrant of Lanark, break 
 into my house and murder my wife !" 
 
 The shriek of horror that burst from every mouth interrupted Wal- 
 lace. " Vengeance, vengeance !" was the cry of the men, while tu- 
 multuous lamentations for the ^ sweet lady of Ellerslie" filled the air 
 from the women. 
 
 Wallace sprang from this cliff into the midst of his brave country- 
 men. ** Follow me then to strike the first blow !" 
 
 * Lead us forward !" cried a vigorous old man, " I drew this stout 
 claymore last in the battle of Lai^gs. Life and Alexander was then 
 the word of victory : now, ye accursed Southrons, ye sliall find that 
 the slogan of Death and Lady Marion ! will be a cry to bring angels 
 down to avenge her blood and free the country !" 
 
 " Death and Lady Marion !" was now echoed with loud shouts 
 firom mouth to mouth. Every sword was drawn. And those hardy 
 peasants who had none, seized the instruments of pasturage; and 
 arned themselves with wolf-speara, pick-axes, forks, and scythes. 
 
 Sixty resolute men now arranged themselves around their chief. 
 Wallace, whose widowed heart turned icy cold at the dreadful slogan 
 of bit Marion's name, more fiercely grasped his sword, and murmur- 
 ed lo himself" From this hour may Scotland date her liberty', or
 
 NOTES. 131 
 
 Wallace return no more ! My faithful friends," cried he, turning to 
 bis men, and placing the plumed bonnet on his head, " let the spirits 
 of your fathers inspire your souls ! ye go to preserve that freedom for 
 which they died. Before the moon sets, the tyrant of Lanark shall 
 fall in blood." 
 
 " Death and Lady Marion !" was the pealing answer that echoed 
 from the hills. 
 
 Wallace again sprung on the cliff. His brave peasants followed him ; 
 and taking their rapid march by a near cut over the most precipitous 
 heights, and through the hitherto unexplored defiles of Cartlane craigs; 
 leaping chasms, and climbing perpendicular rocks ; no obstacles im- 
 peded them, as they rushed onwards like lions to their prey. Scottish 
 Chiefs, vol. I. 121. 
 
 NOTE m. 
 
 Stanzas 22, 23. " The sun was rising from behind the eastern hills, 
 when the victorious group entered the mountain glen where their fa- 
 milies lay. The cheerful sounds of their bugles aroused the sleepers 
 from their caves, and many were the joyous gratulations and embraces 
 which welcomed the warriors to affection and repose." Scottish 
 Chief Sf vol. I, 134. life
 
 132 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE IV. 
 
 Stanza 28. '* It was noon before the cliief awaked from the death- 
 like sleep into which kind nature had plunged his long harassed senses. 
 He opened his eyes languidly ; and when the sight of his rocky apart- 
 ment forced on him the recollection of all his miseries, he uttered a 
 deep groan. That sad sound, so different from the jocund voice with 
 which Wallace used to issue from his rest, struck the ear of Halbert, 
 who, meanwhile, had prepared a staff and scrip for his journey. He 
 drew near his master, and kissing his hand, begged his permission to 
 set out for Bothwell " On my knees," added he, " will I implore the 
 earl to send you succours." Scottish Chiefs, vol. I. 351.
 
 FRAGMENT.
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 1. 
 
 How still the woods ! save when the cheering voice 
 
 Of the gay redbreast from his fading tree 
 Bids the lone wanderer's pensive heart rejoice. 
 
 Who marks the forest's varying canopy ! 
 Etow bright the noonday's mild serenity, 
 
 Beneath whose reign the sparkling currents dance ; 
 While, as my heart renews its vernal glee. 
 
 And roams mine eye the landscape's fair expanse, 
 Straight has my fancy fallen in visionary trance.
 
 1S6 FRAGMENT. 
 
 2. 
 
 For now, I view once more the valley drear 
 
 Where lone Moneira wakes his sullen moan, 
 And straight revives the *' supernatural cheer" * 
 
 "Which to my ravished fancy there was shewn, 
 When I had wandered through the woods alone. 
 
 O'er clifF and moor, one clear autumnal day. 
 Till evening's shadows o'er the scenes were thrown : 
 
 Then from the Heavens appeared in bright array 
 The Genius of the Land, and woke the mighty Lay, 
 
 S. 
 Tlicn seemed departed monarchs there to wake 
 
 Echoes anew from wood and rocky vale. 
 As through Glenfinlas' copse and tangled brake 
 
 Tlie stag, new roused, fled, swift as morning gale ; 
 
 * " Hicb are his walks with supernatural cheer." Wordsworth,
 
 FRAGMENT. 15T 
 
 And as from far the notes were heard to sail 
 Of merry horn that calls the reaper crew, 
 
 Wild-echoing through the copse and mountain dale, 
 Seemed as the hunter gay his bugle blew, 
 
 And urged the jovial chace the lonely forests through. 
 
 .. 4. 
 Then, called from old traditionary lore, 
 
 Strange legends did that lofty Muse impart ; 
 At morn, I saw the prancing steed that bore 
 
 The hunter from the mistress of his heart, 
 I marked her ominous dread and inward smart. 
 
 At eve, I saw her lover stretched afar, 
 And each fond hope from that fair Maid depart, 
 
 As now she heard the rallying shout of war, 
 And saw the watch fire gleam on silvery Vennachar.
 
 1S8 FRAGMENT. 
 
 5. 
 
 Then too I marked, on Lubnaig's lonely strand, 
 
 The maid, of lovely form and laughing eye, 
 At evening hour, unconscious idly stand 
 
 To mark the sunset's purple brilliancy j 
 While the fell Kelpie took his station nigh. 
 
 And, as the twilight splendour died away, 
 Woke dulcet strains of magic harmony; 
 
 Then, as she listened, seized his hapless prey : 
 Nor ever more that maiden met the light of day. 
 
 6. 
 But ever as through haunted wood and moor. 
 
 At morn or soothing ev^ I bent my way. 
 His strains deep graven in my heart I bore. 
 
 Who woke the " Northern Harp" and " Border Lay,*
 
 FRAGMENT. 189 
 
 And decked with flowers full many a legend grey, 
 That else had slept in dark neglect forlorn ; 
 
 But now shall flourish in unfading day, 
 And brighten, like the glories of the morn, 
 
 To renovate its hues in " ages yet unborn." 
 
 7. 
 Here, as in these lone woodlands I devote 
 
 The day to floating dreams and careless rhyme. 
 Each object thus to Fancy's eye is brought, 
 
 Each form of ragged oak or cKflf sublime, 
 Each feature wild that marks that magic clime 
 
 Where Superstition holds her ancient reign ! 
 I hear Inchmahon's sacred vespers chime, 
 
 I see that Goddess of the cliffs again,, 
 And hail the spreading lake far gleamijig on the plain !
 
 140 FRAGMENT. 
 
 8. 
 Oh might the heaven-born influence that inspired 
 
 The soul of Cona's deathless bard of old 
 Illume once more those scenes beloved, admired. 
 
 So might I their enchanting grace unfold ! 
 But, ah ! my touch is weak, my fancy cold ! 
 
 Dark clouds e'en now have veil'd each floating dream ; 
 Vainly I strive high colloquy * to hold 
 
 With wandering Muses by the mountain stream : 
 Gone are my rising hopes ! decayed each dazzling gleam ! 
 
 9. 
 Yet leave me not 1 Oh, do not all depart ! 
 
 Seems as the world, with its detested crew, 
 Each warm emotion freezing in my heart, 
 Tlieir darkening influence on my senses threw, 
 " Whose colloquy doth fill the breast with heat." Afarru?/.
 
 FRAGMENT. 141 
 
 And clashed each beauteous image from my view. 
 O, dreams beloved ! solace of many a day, 
 
 Once more dark Melancholy's clouds subdue ; 
 Brighten once more my path with magic ray, 
 
 And drive the spectre forms of real life away !
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES ON THE FRAGMENT. 
 
 ' The following remarks were sent as a paper for insertion in a 
 miscellaneous work (now in the press *) of a highly valued and distin- 
 guished literary friend. Although they have been honoured with a 
 place in the work alluded to, yet I venture to insert them here as an 
 illustration of the preceding verses. 
 
 " It is seldom, perhaps, at the time they are first visited, that grand 
 and romantic scenes are viewed with a proper degree of unalloyed 
 enjoyment. Too often the fatigues of travelling, especially if one is 
 obliged to modulate his conduct and emotions to the various, and 
 sometimes discordant, opinions of a party, accidents of weather, &c, 
 infuse a bitter alloy into the cup of pleasure. It is afterwards, when, 
 in hours of bodily repose and mental energy, the scenes are vividly 
 
 * The Ruminator, by Sir S, E. Brydges, K. T. M. P., now publish- 
 ed, 1814.
 
 146 NOTES. 
 
 presented by remembrance, that fancy revels in visionary creations* 
 and the mind, becoming independent of the realities by vrhich it is sur- 
 rounded, fixes itself on the * past, the distant, and the future.'" 
 
 It was at this very season of the year that I first visited the Scot- 
 tish Highlands, and now, no sooner arises a fine autumnal morning, 
 than, in imagination, I escape from the flat and unvaried scenes of 
 my little farm, and otace more seem to behold the magnificent and 
 sublime landscape arrayed in the gossamery haze, and illuminated by 
 the yellow gleams of this enchanting season. 
 
 It is thus that to a poetical mind the continual presence of magnifi- 
 cent scenery is not essentially requisite. Allliough surrounding ob- 
 jects are neither striking nor romantic, 
 
 " Yet is poetic impulse given 
 
 By the green earth and clear blue heaven," * 
 
 and the mind revels with all the fervour of enjoyment in its own crea- 
 tions. In the last melancholy letter which winds up that painfully af- 
 fecting tragedy, Hayley's Life of Cowper, the poet observes, " The 
 country that you Iiave had in prospect has always been admired for 
 its beauties ; but the wretch who can derive no gratification from a 
 view of Nature, even under the disadvantages of her most ordinaiy 
 drest, will have no eye to admire her in any." 
 
 Scott.
 
 NOTES. 147 
 
 Yet, however just the remark of Cowper, I have often thought 
 that to a person of a cultivated and poetical mind, the Scottish High- 
 lands present such a sphere of inexhaustible pleasures and delightful 
 research as no other region could possibly afibrd ; and I have often 
 wished that, with adequate talents, I had also the power of devo- 
 ting myself to the collection of Celtic legends, blending with their 
 narrative, pictures of the wild and sublime scenery in which they were 
 discovered. To no country can the beautiful stanza of Lord Byron 
 be with so much justice applied : 
 
 " To sit alone, to muse on flood and fell. 
 
 To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, 
 TYhere things that own not man's dominion dwell, 
 
 And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; 
 To climb the trackless mountain all unseen. 
 
 With the wild flock that never needs a fold. 
 Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean; 
 
 This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold 
 Converse with Nature's charms, and see her stores unrolled." 
 
 I never lived in any region where I found myself so independent of 
 human society, and so completely engrossed by supernatural cheer." 
 As often as I watched the declining sunbeams of an autumn day, 
 gleaming on the placid waters of Loch Vennachar, Loch Katrine, 
 
 K
 
 148 NOTES. 
 
 or the wilder and more desolate Loch Ow, I found myself, as it were, 
 abstracted from ever}' earthly tie; and could not help looking forward 
 with peculiar pleasure to the moonlight evening that was to succeed, 
 in which I was fully assured of beholding the mysterious revel of 
 the Daoine Shie, or Men of Peace; of hearing the sweet music 
 which floats around the ** faery habitation of a multitude ;" besides 
 encountering more than one of those awful forms of doubtful cha- 
 racter that are known to haunt almost every lake and rocky pass in 
 that region of enchantment. 
 
 The propensity of mankind to dwell on the terrific and the mar- 
 vellous is universal. Perhaps no passion or belief, not even that of 
 the existence of a Deit}', is more prevalent, more inseparably an in- 
 mate of the human breast, than that of a certain undefined appre- 
 hension at the idea of an intercourse with the world of spirits. (It has 
 been admirably pourtrayed by that inimitable authoress Miss Baillie, 
 in her tragedy of Orra.) In no country is there such an infinite share 
 of terrific legend, and indeed of traditionary tales of every descrip- 
 tion, as in the Scottish highlands. Yet a little longer, and not even 
 the faintest traces of the warlike, or even of the pastoral, life will 
 remain, and with them will die away eveiy vestige of those poetic 
 treasures.
 
 NOTES. 149 
 
 Many of them, indeed, live in the pages of Scott, of which the 
 " Glenfinlas" is an admirable specimen ; and the recent " Essays" of 
 ,Mrs Grant are highly estimable; but, comparatively speaking, little 
 has yet been atchieved on this wide and interesting field. 
 
 * Stanza 6. " Jges yet unborn.'* 
 
 " If to make the pasty the distant, and the future, predominant over 
 the present be to advance us in the scale of intellectual beings^ then 
 how high a station does he merit who lives in a conflict of passions, 
 who endures the heated temperament of fancy, who suffers poverty, 
 neglect, and scorn, and calumny, for the sake of delighting those 
 whom he has never seen or perhaps heard of, and tf charming, by the 
 efforts of his muse, the wide shores of the Atlantic and ages yet un- 
 born /" Brydges, Censura Literaria, II, p. S5.
 
 V A R I A.
 
 V A R I A. 
 
 Cf)e xiit^ Part JFirgt. 
 1. 
 
 <t Aye, the bright sun will rise ; in glory rise. 
 And all the heavens be filled with yellow light ; 
 
 And balmy dew-mists of the summer skies 
 Wake notes of rapture, odours of delight ; 
 
 But shall he rise on those green canopies 
 Of wild-wood gay, that wont to charm my sight ? 
 
 O no ! the lovely scenes are gone for aye ; 
 
 For ever quench'd, and cold, Imagination's ray.
 
 154 VARIA. 
 
 2. 
 
 " And oji my vitals pain with ceaseless sway 
 Preys like tlie secret canker in the flower, 
 
 Wasting unseen my life and hopes away, 
 Barring the gates of Fame's immortal bower ; 
 
 And on my path attend both niglit and day 
 A train of demons that my heart devour, 
 
 Anger, and Shame, and Disappointment fell. 
 
 And dire Despondency, relentless fiends of hell. 
 
 S. 
 
 *' But oh the lovely scenes that I have known ! 
 
 Not all Imagination's witchery. 
 When seated radiant on her sapphire throne, 
 
 Can equal Nature's fair reality ;
 
 VARIA. iS5 
 
 Nor of high-pealing instruments the tone 
 
 E'er match'd the notes of heaven-taught harmony, 
 When purple gleams and fall of fragrant dew 
 Warn the gay choirs at morn their descant to renew. 
 
 4. 
 " Gone, gone are these ; and Guilt and Misery 
 
 Are my companions now where'er 1 go; 
 And former joys, that did so swiftly flee, 
 
 To recollection brought, but mock my woe."* 
 
 An unfinished stanza.
 
 156 VARIA, 
 
 5. 
 
 Thus mid the scenery desolate and drear, 
 The Exile moiirn'd, poor man ! for Memory 
 
 In vivid colours bade the groves appear 
 
 That never more would greet his longing eye ; 
 
 While the dim ghosts of early transports dear 
 Gave tenfold keenness to his agony. 
 
 On the lone shore he stray'd, and woo'd the gale 
 
 Chill breathing o'er the waves of ocean pale. 
 
 6. 
 But, sudden, as he trod the sandy shore. 
 
 By force resistless was he borne away ; 
 And memory, thought, and sight retum'd no more 
 
 Till he was floating on the ocean gray
 
 VARIA. 157 
 
 In a strange bark, impell'd by sail and oar, 
 
 Where sat the wonted comrades of his way : 
 And far receded from his sight the strand ; 
 And torments fresh awoke that he might not withstand. 
 
 7. 
 O ghostly, ghostly was that vessel's crew ; 
 
 There Apprehension sat, and Pain and Woe ; 
 And as their course through ocean they pursue, 
 
 Despair himself uprearen at the prow. 
 On the wide waves the Exile bent his view, 
 
 And torpor o'er his senses 'gan to flow ; 
 (Not the sweet calm of hope-restoring sleep,) 
 For now the winds awoke the horrors of the deep.
 
 15S VARIA. 
 
 8. 
 
 Despair, that sat him on the vessel's prow, 
 Uprearen his gaunt arms into the air, 
 
 And with a shout that echoed high and low, 
 
 Seem'd some compeer from hell to summon there. 
 
 Straight at the sound the rising might you know 
 Of a strange light, that danced with fearful glare ; 
 
 But far remote yet seem'd the mystic ray, 
 
 But onwards swiftly stUl pursued its lonely way. 
 
 9. 
 Amid the clouds of lurid ghastly hue 
 
 That Ught came dancing o'er the ocean swell ; 
 Who bore it, by Saint Bride, I never knew. 
 
 But, sooth to say, he had his birth in hell.
 
 VARIA. 159 
 
 It overhung the bark, it inward drew 
 
 Then from the Exile burst a feeble yell, 
 For in his brain at once that hellish light. 
 Like lightning buried quick, evanish*d from the sight. 
 
 10. 
 
 Then in the suflPerer's brain that horrid fire 
 The marrow dried ; and now no more the ray 
 
 Of reminiscence, that had wont to inspire 
 Thoughts of the long-lost joys that once had sway, 
 
 Remain'd, but all was ruin, madness dire. 
 And Fancy's wild creations died away. 
 
 Nought, nought remain'd, but pain's o'erpowering sense 
 
 From that accursed fire's keen influence.
 
 160 VARIA. 
 
 11. 
 
 On, on they go, that vessel and her crew, 
 Her ghastly crew and their unhappy prey ; 
 
 On, on they float, o'er waves of murky hue; 
 Down sank the darkening clouds on ocean gray, 
 
 And tenfold night her mantle o'er them drew. 
 And phantom shapes arose in dread array. 
 
 How long they sail'd now 'fits me not to tell 
 
 Leave we the Knight awhile with those dread fiends of hell. 
 
 12. 
 
 It IB the balm of an autumnal breeze, 
 A breeze that floats o*er fading leaves and flowers ;
 
 VARIA. 161 
 
 It is no chilling night-gale from the seas, 
 
 It is the fragrance of autumnal bowers, 
 The breath of lingering verdure on the trees 
 
 Woke by the fall of morning dews or showers. 
 O happy hour ! that gale renew'd again 
 The long-lost calmness of the sufferer's brain. 
 
 13. 
 The fire was quench'd, and slowly now the ray 
 
 Of reason *gan return. O happy hour ! 
 The clouds and storms of night have lost their sway ; 
 
 The tranquil sunbeams on the waters shower 
 Their influence sweet; the fiends have fled away. 
 
 Awed by the presence of some heavenly power. 
 
 He sees it is the sun the smiling sea 
 
 And feels the happy gales restore serenity. 
 
 6
 
 ie2 VARIA. 
 
 U. 
 
 Listen ! O listen ! *tis no earthly strain ; 
 
 It is the voice of angels from the sky 
 Hymning the praise of (rod the billowy main 
 
 Is hushed to hear that sacred harmony. 
 Listen ! O listen ! for the sounds again 
 
 In thousand blended notes arise on high. 
 O 'tis the voice of seraphs on the deep, 
 Calling the sufierer from his painful sleep. 
 
 15. 
 
 If e'er at mom, when odorous dews of night 
 Rest on the woods, thy slumber has been broke 
 
 By thousand songsters to the radiance bright 
 Chaunting their homage from some wooded rock, 
 
 And thou hast felt the thrills of pure delight,
 
 VARIA. 168 
 
 And blest the birds that thee from sleep awoke, 
 Then, though that sound with this may not compare, 
 Yet thou shalt know what songs of angels are. 
 
 16. 
 For mark the man in whom each simplest sound, 
 
 And simplest sight in Nature's treasury, 
 With genuine fulness of delight hath crown'd, 
 
 That man can taste the sweets of poesy : 
 And none but such can tell what joys abound 
 
 When angels wake unearthly melody. 
 Tell not of drums and clarions echoing far 
 These are deceitful arts to hide the woes of war. 
 
 17. 
 And such a man I knew, whose common talk 
 Fitting itself unto the base and low,
 
 IM VARIA. 
 
 (Alas ! and all that in his daily walk 
 
 Him cross'd were such) no genius e'er did shew. 
 But ever moved in the most beaten track ; 
 
 But when alone, immortal flowers would blow 
 Round his wild path, and heavenly lustre stream, 
 
 Till common cares again dispelled the magic dream. 
 
 . * * * * 
 
 18. 
 
 The Knight beholds the sun, the smiling sea, 
 And looks around him on the waters blue; 
 
 And he is not alone; the brilliancy 
 Of sun-light gives a lovely form to view, 
 
 That steers the vessel onward in her glee. 
 The while the western breezes gently blew ; 
 
 That form was Fortitude, a mighty dame. 
 
 Of lofty rank in all the rolls of Fame.
 
 VARIA. 165 
 
 19. 
 
 But now, up rose an island to the sight, 
 Whence came the balmy odours of the air j 
 
 For though that island, in the yellow light, 
 
 Shew'd nought at first but grey rocks rude and bare, 
 
 Yet there were fields of waving harvest bright, 
 And dells of wildwood scattered here and there, 
 
 Within the boundaries of that magic land. 
 
 Wherein the peerless dame that steer'd the vessel reign'd. 
 
 High were the rocky cliffs that frowning rose, 
 Whereon the tranquil autumn sun display'd 
 
 The lichen grey on sternest brow that grows, 
 And tall hypericum, not yet decay'd.
 
 J 66 VARIA. 
 
 But now the scenes fresh wonders 'gan disclose, 
 
 As from the vessel to the shore convey'd, 
 Awhile the Exile on the strand alone 
 Gazed on the sights of joy and woe that thence were 
 shewn. 
 
 21. 
 For, through a deep ravine thence might he view 
 
 A distant prospect of a goodly scene ; 
 But painful was the path that valley through, 
 
 And many a lurking danger lay between 
 The wanderer and the fields of lovely hue. 
 
 That crown'd the distant landscape most serene; 
 Rock, shattered pine, morass, and water-fall 
 Were tltere, his sinking spirits to appal.
 
 VARIA. 167 
 
 22. 
 Nor earthly barrier only met him there ; 
 
 For lurking demons ever and anon 
 Grasp'd at their former prey ; and many a snare 
 
 Contrived, by which the Kjiight might be o'erthrown : 
 Yet ever and anon, amid the air 
 
 Was heard the swell of some celestial tone ; 
 And the bright glance of wings " bedropt with gold" 
 CompeU'd the demons to forego their hold. 
 
 23. 
 As nigh the lake, yclep'd the Lake of Hell, * 
 
 By Scottish bard extoU'd in deathless lay, 
 A glen there is, the abode of satyrs fell, 
 
 Loch Kettiirin.
 
 168 VARIA. 
 
 Oft seen by shepherd swain at close of day, 
 Unscar'd by holy sound of vesper bell, 
 
 Half heard from far Inchmahon's old abbaye 
 The Coir nan Urishn, that strange valley hight; 
 St Mary, guard the swain that wanders there by night ! 
 
 Aye, joy inspired him, even 'mid all his care; 
 
 For still he mark'd the promised landscape gay, 
 And heard sweet warblings borne along the air, 
 
 The distant music of the redbreast's lay. 
 That on the bough, not yet of foliage bare, 
 
 Hail'd the soft splendours of the autumn day. 
 But lo ! his toil is crown'd with mirth at last, 
 And all the terrors of the way are past.
 
 VARIA. 169 
 
 A palace rose, the abode of Fortitude : 
 
 Huge pillars rude of rock the roof upbore ; 
 
 Within were chambers vast, that Labour hew'd 
 Within the bowels of the mountain hoar. 
 
 There might you penetrate^ until renewed 
 You heard the voice of ocean on the shore, 
 
 Or saw the purple of departing day 
 
 O'er the wide azure waves diffuse its lovely ray. 
 
 26. 
 With Fortitude her sister Industry 
 
 Oft-times sojourn'd ; and frequent might'st thou view 
 Labour his burden, struggling rear on high, 
 
 And busy husbandmen their task pursue ;
 
 170 VARIA. 
 
 And feeble sufferers wan, with sunken eye, 
 
 New guests amid those fields of lovely hue, 
 Gradual their strength recover, and assay 
 To glean the scatter'd cars within their grasp that lay. 
 
 27. 
 It was, I ween, a land where Industry 
 
 Had most surpassing deeds achieved ; for there, 
 Boon Nature scatter'd not her bounties free : 
 
 The frowning cliffs were all of verdure bare ; 
 But whcrcsoe'er the blossom, fair to see. 
 
 Of heath or furze perfumed the vernal air, 
 In every lowly dell that careful Maid 
 The golden harvest rcar'd, or nurseil the forest shade. 
 
 7
 
 VARIA. 171 
 
 28. 
 A kindJing vigour in the Exile's frame 
 
 Awoke, what-while he breathed the charmed air, 
 Chat from the fields of yellow lustre came, 
 
 Where troops of labourers and maidens fair. 
 The guerdon of their former toil to claim. 
 
 Went gaily forth autumnal sweets to share. 
 Such pleasant sights the fleeting day beguiled, 
 When first the Wanderer gain'd the rocky region wild. 
 
 29. 
 Befits me not in lengthen'd song to tell 
 
 The varied pleasures of fair Autumn's reign ; 
 For they are sung by Wootton's bard * so well, 
 That none shall e'er achieve such lays again ; 
 Brydges.
 
 17? VARIA. 
 
 And, save that master of the charmed shell, * 
 
 None e'er achieved, who sang in deathless strain 
 Each varying season's blissful influence, 
 And magic realms of wizard Indolence. 
 
 30. 
 
 But when the last enchanting scenes were o'er 
 
 Of many-coloured groves and yellow rays. 
 And clouds had settled on the mountains hoar. 
 
 Then did the Exile spend the shortening days 
 In listening to the mighty ocean's roar. 
 
 And cataracts that wintry tempests raise, 
 And the long hours of cheerless darkness wore 
 In calling mighty spirits from the grave. 
 Of many an errant knight and stern crusader brave. 
 Thomson.
 
 VARIA. 173 
 
 31. 
 
 ULit (Bxilt* part ^econu* 
 
 Lonely he wandered on the sea-beat shore ; 
 
 Watching the sportive billows all alone 
 Wandered the Knight : the fragrant gales upbore 
 
 The waves that in the cheering sunbeam shone, 
 And chafed their sununits into fringes hoar, 
 
 As o'er the wide waste they came dancing on. 
 
 The knight that wandered on the lonely shore 
 Felt the sweet scene his long-lost ecstasy restore. 
 
 32. 
 Aye J fragrant were the gales that on him blew ; 
 
 It was the blessed breath of May that rose. 
 And o'er the waters of cerulean hue 
 
 Her influence brought of pleasure and repose ;
 
 374 VARIA. 
 
 And now his heart was filled with gladness new, 
 
 And new-born ardour in his bosom glows. 
 O lovely were the scenes around him shewn. 
 Lovelier than aught that he had looked upon. 
 
 3S. --' 
 
 For o'er that island height a wilderness 
 
 Of flowers arose ; the furze was all in bloom, 
 And with most brilliant colouring did dress 
 
 The rugged cliffs and shed a rich perfume, 
 While the eye mark'd from many a wild recess 
 
 The happy fields a vivid green assume j 
 And tiie fair forests waving in their pride 
 On the slope shelter of the mountain side.
 
 VARIA. 175 
 
 34. 
 But who can tell that influence divine 
 
 That lives and operates on each living thing, 
 When the first fragrant southern gales benign 
 
 Awake the sleeping energies of spring ? 
 When all the woodland choir anew combine 
 
 The song of joy and gratitude to sing. 
 And leaf and blossom bursting into bloom. 
 Load every passing gale with exquisite perfume ? 
 
 35. 
 Hark ! 'tis the cuckoo's magic voice aloud, 
 
 And all the rocky scenes around him ring ! 
 Scared at the music of that warning proud. 
 
 In Iceland grot impervious to the spring.
 
 Ife ' VARIA. 
 
 Stern Winter hastes his withered form to shroud. 
 
 Thereon, the happy nymphs and labourers bring 
 The freshest garlands from the wildest wood 
 To deck the rocky shrine of Fortitude. 
 
 36. 
 
 But as on Rona's melancholy isle, 
 
 That mirthful voice still wakes the chords of woe ; 
 And banishes of youth and age the smile, 
 
 So now, succeeding to that voice did flow 
 A tide of mournful thoughts ! and for a while 
 
 Lost to the scene the Knight was wandering slow -, 
 Till sudden to his sight an aged man 
 On the lone sea-shore to appear began.
 
 VARIA. 177 
 
 37. 
 Scarce seemed that bending form so shook by age, 
 
 As by the inward force of fantasy, 
 That, painting woes that nothing might assuage, 
 
 Him stung more keenly than Reality ; 
 For still he seemed as blotted from the page 
 
 Of sinners that shall ever pardoned be. 
 And nought unto his harassed brain was given 
 But dreams of crime and woe, and stern unpitying Heaven. 
 
 38. 
 And Apprehension hight, this woeful man 
 
 Where'er he went did blast each lovely thing ; 
 For, as he walked, the flowers to shrink began. 
 
 And shrieking fled the thrush on angry wing. 
 Unheedful he, now stood, now walked, now ran.
 
 17t V^RIA. 
 
 And as an aspen's light leaf trembling, 
 And by wild weakening fancies ever crost, 
 Gazed fearfully around, like schoolboy on a ghost. 
 
 S9. 
 
 Aye ; from his presence eveiy happy thing 
 
 Did shrink ; the bright leaves withered on the bough ; 
 
 And, nearer as he came, the Knight did fling 
 His frame unnerved upon the sea-beach low ; 
 
 And, thoughts of woe again quick mustering, 
 His new-born happiness did all o'erthrow. 
 
 But he was rescued from the demons dire. 
 
 By FouTiTUDE^ that marked approach that wicked sire.
 
 VARIA. 179 
 
 40. 
 On the sea-shore he wandered till the ray 
 
 Of dying day-light 'gan to tinge the wave ; 
 Then sat him down to watch the slow decay 
 
 Of pensive twilight from a rocky cave ; 
 But the low murmur of the ocean gray, 
 
 And the sweet soothing light such influence gave. 
 That ere he wist the Knight was lulled to sleep. 
 And visions o'er his senses 'gan to sweep. 
 
 41 
 A lovely realm appeared ; full well he knew 
 
 The fair domain where fled his early years ; 
 And spring had decked the groves in brightest hue^ 
 The scene in all its wonted charms appears. 
 And seemed fair glittering the dew-mist through, 
 
 M
 
 180 VARIA. 
 
 Gemmed by a vernal morn's refulgent tears. 
 Almost the Knight to tears of joy was moved 
 To recognize the scenes so earnestly beloved. 
 
 42. 
 Embosomed 'mid the trees a tower arose. 
 
 Whereon the purple gleams of morning shone ; 
 And in that tower with swelling heart he knows 
 
 The mansion where his sweetest years had flown. 
 On the wide lake the vernal zephyr blows, 
 
 Where first he wept at tales of the renown 
 Of Wallace, mighty Chief ! and heaved the sigh 
 That ever Scot should bend to slavery. 
 
 43. 
 Then, chaBging still, the visionary scene 
 Revealed the castle proud, within whose bowers
 
 VARIA. 181 
 
 The empress of his heart had sheltered been, 
 While now the sun a cheering lustre pours, 
 
 And all the groves are pranked in freshest green, 
 And the fair gardens filled with brightest flowers. 
 
 Anon, alas ! each lovely scene was changed, 
 
 And all its hues decayed and order disarranged. 
 
 44. 
 Tlie pleasant sojourn of his Infancy, 
 
 The well-known gardens, lake, and mossy tower, 
 Whereon the sun had shed his brilliancy, 
 
 These fell into the stern Invader's power. 
 Red flames ascending wrapt the tower on high, 
 
 And even the verdant forest did devour. 
 On the fair fields black soot and ashes lay, 
 A dismal sight, I ween, of ruin and decay.
 
 in^ VARIA. 
 
 45. 
 But now, alas ! yet more of grief appears ; 
 
 For from the castle proud whose painted bowers 
 Contained the empress of his heart, in tears 
 
 Of bitterness, fast falling down in showers. 
 And shrieks that filled with agony his ears, 
 
 That maiden bright is driven ; the sight o'erpowers 
 His heart with grief so sudden and so keen. 
 
 That all at once is closed the visionary scene. 
 
 * * * *.
 
 VARIA* 183 
 
 46. 
 
 * # * * # * ^ 
 
 Sweet soothing dreams his weary mind possess'd 
 Of early days, long past, when all was gay, 
 
 And, seated on the mountain's fragrant breast, 
 He felt the summer gales around him play, 
 
 And heard sweet music wooing him to rest ; 
 O lovely was that vision's fair array, 
 
 Lovelier than aught that youthful poets dream 
 
 Of fairy-land at eve by some romantic stream. 
 
 47. 
 He felt the influence of the blessed sun, 
 
 The summer sun that on the scenery shed 
 His glowing tints, how sweet to look upon !
 
 184 VARIA* 
 
 ^nd clad in partial gleams the mountain's head. 
 He saw the meads their fairest garb put on, 
 
 In hues of green and azure, white, and red. 
 From whence the passing breezes odours bore 
 Of power the long-lost thrills of gladness to restore. 
 
 48. 
 He saw the forest's waving canopies 
 
 In pride and pomp ascend, and met the gale 
 Wafting celestial influence through the skies. 
 
 He saw the waters gleaming in the val^ 
 He heard the voice of hound and horn arise, 
 
 And sweeter far the blackbird in the dale, 
 The lone sequestered covert, wake on high 
 The varied tones of woodland minstrelsy.
 
 VARIA. 185 
 
 49. 
 He saw the splendours of a smiling sea, 
 
 The glassy mirror of the quiet tide, 
 Whereon reposing in tranquillity. 
 
 Gay palaces reflected were espied, 
 And waving woods, and, sailing on in glee. 
 
 Seen double, ship and shadow in their pride, 
 All these, and more than lay like mine can tell. 
 He saw, that gave his heart with gratitude to swell. 
 
 50. 
 
 But wakening from his trance^ O not the swell 
 
 Of soothing music met his eager ear ; 
 O not the vernal scenes beloved so well. 
 
 Nor sunny gleams around him did appear.
 
 186 VARIA. 
 
 O no ! that comfortless and dismal cell 
 
 Had nought the sight to charm, the heart to cheer, 
 All furred with mouldy damps, and pictured round 
 With phantom shapes that Pain and Madness bade abound ! 
 
 51. 
 Harsh were the grating sounds that drove away 
 
 The sweet creations of Childe Arthur's dream ; 
 The clank of chains, the iron hinges bray, 
 
 That gave admittance to a transient gleam ! 
 And dire the chill reality whose sway 
 
 Assumed the place of Fancy's fairy beam. 
 How soon like Autumn's foliage are they gone. 
 The lovely scenes so sweet to look upon !
 
 VARIA. 187 
 
 52. 
 High in the mouldering wall a grating threw 
 
 A tinge of sun-light on the scene below, 
 And gave Childe Arthur, wofiil man ! to view 
 
 The man who came his pittance to bestow, 
 That ever loved (what Virtue scorns to do) 
 
 To wreak resentment on defenceless foe. 
 
 On the faint gleam Childe Arthur fix'd his eye, 
 
 As claiming fortitude that malice to defy. 
 
 V 
 
 53. 
 That gleam awoke in Arthur's heart the glow 
 
 Of Hope and Virtue and Devotion high : 
 But that stern keeper did each morning go 
 
 Through all the scenes of wild variety,
 
 18 VARIA. 
 
 And saw the purple gleams their influence throw. 
 
 Yet felt no love of Nature's majesty ; 
 But from the morning air refreshment drew. 
 His infamous delights more ardent to pursue. 
 
 54. 
 For in that heart where genuine Cruelty 
 
 And Treachery innate have their abode. 
 The scenes that lift the virtuous heart on high 
 
 From Nature's loveliness to Nature's God, 
 But give new fervour to Iniquity, 
 
 And aid the shoots of sin to spread abroad. 
 His mirth is wickedness ; to him the Spring 
 No joys but such as demons feel can bring.
 
 VARIA. 189 
 
 55, 
 
 This Keeper stern that self-same autumn day 
 
 Had through the woodland mazes wandering been, 
 
 Had seen the sunbeams on the lake-waves play. 
 And partial gleams illume the changing scene ; 
 
 And from the lovely landscape's fair array, 
 And the sweet odours of the fading treene, * 
 
 Like toad or asp or venoraed monster foul, 
 
 Had but refreshed, I ween, the malice of his soul. 
 
 56. 
 O long and weary was the silent day 
 
 To the poor prisoner in that dreary cell : 
 For him no cheering note of redbreast gay 
 
 Was trill'd ; nor hunter's horn the breeze did swell. 
 * Treene, for trees, in Spenser and other old writers.
 
 190 VARIA. 
 
 Stedfast he watched the feeble twilight ray 
 
 That through the grated loop-hole slanting fell, 
 And the chill damp-drops counted, one by one, 
 That trickled from the roof, and dropt upon the stone. 
 
 57. 
 There came a minstrel to the castle gate 
 
 An unfinished stanza.
 
 VARU. 191 
 
 58. 
 To him that long in dungeon dark hath lain, 
 
 O who can tell how sweet the simplest sight ! 
 The meanest floret on the grassy plain. 
 
 The faintest blush of morning's ruddy light ! 
 Thus to the Childe the sylvan scene again 
 
 Was destined to arise in radiance bright, 
 But yet, the night-clouds hung on wood and wold. 
 And frost-fog floated round in banners dense and cold. 
 
 59. 
 The soothing odours of that quiet wood 
 
 Rose on his languid frame with influence new ; 
 It was the sweetest haunt of solitude, 
 
 And there each Alpine plant and floret grew.
 
 ISS VARIA. 
 
 Whose odorous breath long-lost delight renew'd. 
 
 And round his tranquil path enchantment threw ; 
 But now the morn with vermeil cheek *gan rise. 
 And slow-ascending streaks illumed the orient tikie^ 
 
 60. 
 The varied features of that sylvan scene 
 
 Rose 'mid the splendour of the dawning day. 
 Most lovely to behold ; for there, I ween, 
 
 Nor art fantastic ra'arr*d the fair array 
 Of Nature wild j nor ruthless axe had been : 
 
 But all was rich and flourishing and gay. 
 In mazy groups and knolls the wild-wood grew, 
 (A wilderness of sweets) in many a varied hue.
 
 VARIA. 193 
 
 61. 
 
 Heard you the dying fall of music sweet 
 
 On the high mountain-summit slow decay ? 
 O will those angel voices not repeat 
 
 The heavenly accents of their choral lay ? 
 Have they for ever died ? O no ! they meet 
 
 Again my ravished sense, and steal away 
 My soul from earthly woes how far ! O heavenr ! 
 Are such enchanting sounds to earthly wanderers given ? 
 
 62. 
 Amid the woodland scene there did appear 
 
 An old man bent by time, with hoary hair; 
 He seemed some venerable bard or seer, 
 
 Or hermit grave, or gage raedicinayre.
 
 IM VARIA. 
 
 Right courteous to the Childe approaching near. 
 
 He told that 'mid that lonely region fair. 
 Full many a wond'rous grot and cavern lay. 
 Whither he only knew the secret winding way. 
 
 6S. 
 ** O stay, divine illusions, for a while, 
 
 *' Nor let the cold clouds of Reality 
 " Return to check the melancholy smile 
 
 " With which the well-known regions I descry 1 
 " O let the fond remembrances beguile 
 
 " The silent hours that all too swiftly fly ! 
 ' So in these fleeting moments I shall know 
 ** Even more delight than ali the past could e'er bestow
 
 VARIA. 195 
 
 64. 
 
 " Enchantress Hope ! yet on my senses shed 
 
 " Your magic treasures ! teach me to pursue 
 " The fond delights of many a former hour, 
 
 " Too lightly prized, thus living life anew ! 
 " Teach me in bold resolves aloft to tower, 
 
 " And yet to grasp the virtuous honours due, 
 " Whose base usurper's unrelenting chains 
 " So long have galled each nerve, and fired my feverish 
 veins." 
 
 65. 
 Thus, as the hour of matin prime awoke 
 
 Childe Arthur from his transitory rest, 
 Grateful, in accents of delight he spoke, 
 
 The-while the bird of autumn blithe exprest 
 
 N
 
 196 VARIA. 
 
 His guiltless raptures from the wooded rock. 
 
 Whose simple voice inspired those visions blest ! 
 O most transporting is that simple voice 
 To all whose bosoms pure die woodland scenes rejoice ! 
 
 66. 
 Prince Arthur had by basest treachery 
 
 Lost the fair kingdom where, in early days, 
 He reigned in gladness and prosperity ; 
 
 But memory still would sweet creations raise, 
 And Hope would paint gay landscapes to his eye, 
 
 And with rich hues adorn the woodland maze 
 Wherein be saw his portraiture displayed. 
 Rejoicing as of yore amid the well-known shade.
 
 VARIA. 197 
 
 67. 
 
 But O ! the fond delusions all were doom'd 
 
 Too soon to meet disorder and decay ! 
 For when he would the wild-walk have resumed 
 
 To drink the freshness of the new-born day, 
 While now the rising sun the scene illumed, 
 
 He found his frame to sorcery the prey. 
 That bower was barred by negromantic spell j 
 That Hermit was, alas ! a minister of hell !
 
 198 VARIA. 
 
 * * * . 
 69. 
 
 jFragment* 
 
 It is the balmy southern breeze that blows 
 Sweeter than gales of Araby the blest, 
 
 Diffusing o'er my frame divine repose. 
 
 And soothing each unquiet thought to rest ; 
 
 A languid calm my wearied fancy knows. 
 And languid hopes yet linger in my breast, 
 
 That, ere I die, some trophy may be won. 
 
 Some vision realized, some deed of glory done. 
 
 70. 
 
 But, oh ! how vain the hope ! the leaf that's borne 
 On the soft southern breeze is not more frail I
 
 VARIA. 199 
 
 Brief are the cloudless rays that life adorn, 
 And long and dark the tempests that assail ; 
 
 And but to struggle on, nor vainly mourn, 
 Nor o'er inevitable sorrows wail. 
 
 Nor cease with ardour virtue to pursue. 
 
 Is all that even the best and wisest here may do. 
 
 71. 
 If merry voice of labouring hind, or balm 
 
 Of woods autumnal, fields of golden grain, 
 Could to my harassed mind impart a calm, 
 
 Here are they all ! and yet my woes remain ! 
 For ever lost to me the victor's palm, 
 
 Me bound, alas ! with adamantine chain 
 Forged by the fiends, whose unrelenting sway 
 Bids every youthfiil hope fast fading meet decay.
 
 200 VARIA. 
 
 72. 
 Yet, oh ! tlie softness of that western gale ! 
 
 It spreads around divine tranquillity ! 
 Though dark the tempest-clouds that life assail, 
 
 Yet there are magic gleams of ecstacy ! 
 And ever when the west-wind sweeps the vale. 
 
 Fresh Hope is roused and Fancy soars on high, 
 And recollected visions rise amain, 
 And legendary lore comes crowding on my brain.
 
 VARIA, 201 
 
 73. 
 
 In dark Glenesk the deer were safe at mom, 
 And sportive in the copse were seen to play, 
 
 Where diamond droprdid every leaf adorn, 
 That glitter'd in the morning's lustre gay ; 
 
 But loud at noonday rang the hunter's horn : 
 Anon a merry train in proud array, 
 
 To drive the royal deer on mountain ground, 
 
 Did thither bend their course with horn and horse and hound. 
 
 74. 
 Long was the chace ; befits me not to tell 
 
 The varied fortunes of the field that day, 
 (Who love not on such idle theme to dwell !) 
 
 Long was the chace ; they drove their panting prey 
 
 6
 
 'A)2 VARIA. 
 
 O'er moor and wood and wold till evening fell. 
 And twilight died upon the mountain grey, 
 And dusky clouds rode threatening o'er the sky, 
 And the rude night-breeze moaned portentously. 
 
 75. 
 Alone at eve amid that heath forlorn 
 
 The Royal Hunter urged his venturous way 
 At length he tarried ; and his echoing horn 
 
 Resounded 'mid the mountain caverns grey ; 
 But no response was on the breezes borne ! 
 
 In vain he looked for his attendants gay. 
 All, all alone, amid that mighty wood, 
 Tlic King was lefl in trackless solitude !
 
 VARIA. 205 
 
 76. 
 And darker clouds their fearful influence shed, 
 
 Enormous gloom ! on mountain, lake, and plain, 
 And heavily on his defenceless head - i-; 
 
 Drove the relentless blast and chilling rain. 
 While Fancy, with unwonted visions fed. 
 
 Dim shapes of terror woke in ceaseless train ; i (j 
 And fears till then his heart had never known f 
 
 Chilled every shrinking nerve j his esperance was gone. 
 
 :y-'-f S!j(/'j; lU', > b : A 
 
 77. / 
 
 At length he mark'd a solitary ray 
 
 Far in the shadowy void ; and with delight. 
 Though rude and rocky was the dangerous way, i ' 
 
 His course he thither urged with all his might.
 
 204 VARIA. 
 
 Ere long a joyful sight did him repay, 
 
 For, emanating through the gloom of night, 
 A dazzling radiance on the scene was cast. 
 And soothing music rose, and floated on the blast. 
 
 , 'li noi?'%78. 
 O most refulgent was that castle high ! 
 
 Blazed every traceried arch, and all around 
 Rung the blithe notes of mirth and revelry. 
 
 And courteous welcome now his wishes crown'd. 
 Within were scenes enchanting to the eye. 
 
 For melting dames in every bower were found, 
 And rich repast and goblets brimmed with wine, 
 And music's purer charms the senses did refine.
 
 VARIA. 205 
 
 79. 
 
 Midnight ; but who 'mid those deh'ghtful bowers 
 E'er long'd for sleep ! their mirth seem'd ever new; 
 
 But sudden thunder shook the castle towers, 
 And every smihng dame grew pale of hue ; 
 
 Anon unearthly horror all o'erpowers ; 
 
 From pale their cheeks were changed to livid blue t 
 
 And with demoniac shrieks they vanish'd all ! 
 
 Only the Lady- Host reraain'd within the hall. 
 
 80. 7,;hoS.= .j); - 
 
 " Relentless Tyrant ! lo ! thine hour is come ! ncK)-: 
 
 " The youth whose guiltless life was reft by thee 
 " For vengeance cries from his untimely tomb. 
 
 " Relentless king ! for thee no game nor glee
 
 206 VARIA. 
 
 " Shall ever more awake ! Behold thy doom, 
 ** Fit guerdon for thy reckless cruelty !** 
 Then with a shout that mighty dame hath fled 
 Anon the scene was changed to mansions of the dead. 
 
 jbi9v\ 81. - nod (1 
 First all was dark ; then blue sepulchral flame > 
 
 Rose wavering all around, and gave to view * " i>iii 
 Dire objects of afiright unmeet to name : '^^ V"^ 
 
 Anon a ghastly form came wading through 
 The dusky flames ; whose bleeding mangled frame 
 
 Soon as, with wild affright, King Kenneth knew, 
 With screams be fled from the detested sight. 
 And frantic sought to shun his enemy by flight.
 
 VARIA. 207 
 
 82. 
 The monarch now, who spent the autumn day 
 
 Driving the mountain deer, himself was driven ; 
 Till he had reached the self-same copsewood gray 
 
 Where the view-shout so merrily was given : 
 Nor breathing time was granted him to pray ! 
 
 Lochlee danced wildly to the blast of Heaven, 
 And Kenneth from a beetling crag was dash'd. 
 And wildly o'er his corse the blue refulgence flash'd.
 
 308 VARIA. 
 
 
 
 .'u .., 
 
 8S. 
 
 jFragment, 
 
 O Melancholy ! softly-soothing maid ! 
 
 Much do I owe to thine enchanting sway ; 
 For thou hast led me through this leaf-strown glade 
 
 Duly at early mom and evening gray ; 
 Then, at thy call, unwonted charms pervade 
 
 The simplest scene amid the forest gay. 
 O nought exalts the soul to mocd so high 
 As thy celestial pure socie^ 1
 
 VARIA. 209 
 
 84. 
 *' Mind for itself creates society ;" 
 
 So said the Roman hero famed of old : 
 Man never is alone ! The woods supply 
 
 Health to the body j to the mind mifold 
 Best fellowship, conceptions wild and high ; 
 
 While oft in crowded scenes wan spectres hold 
 Dominion o'er the soul, and quench the flame 
 That fills with heavenly bliss the poet's frame. 
 
 85. 
 If e'er this withered heart hath known the glow 
 
 Of inspiration high, it is when sleep 
 Hath soothed to rest each corporal source of woe. 
 
 And morning smiles upon the mountain steep,
 
 f VARIA. 
 
 And forth into the forest-walks I go, 
 
 O'er which the health-inspiring breezes sweep, 
 And only with the shadowy tribes of mind 
 I pass my social day in raptures unconfined. 
 
 86. # 
 
 Yet not with heavenly trains and angels bright 
 
 Alone is past the day ; for endless store 
 Of legends wild then History brings to light 
 
 That long have mouldered in oblivion hoar ; 
 And with enchanting hues the scenes are dight, 
 
 That more than pristine splendour can restore. 
 As when the rising mom with purple ray 
 lUumes the mouldering tower and desolate abbayc. ,
 
 YARIA. 311 
 
 87. 
 
 iTtagment 
 
 And all around interminable heath 
 
 Filled the wide scene ; on which the morning ray 
 Faintly diffused a watery gleam ; no breath ' 
 
 Of ruder wind disturbed the vapours gray, 
 That rolled their mighty banners still as death ; 
 
 Then forth into the woods he bent his way 
 The Melancholy Knight ! sweet odours rose, 
 And half had lulled his anguish to repose. 
 
 88. 
 But pain, alas ! awakening in his frame, 
 
 Shot his keen darts ; for slow consuming cares 
 Of warlike knight had left him but the name. 
 And whitened with untimely frost his hairs, 
 

 
 212 VARIA. 
 
 Then to the lonely wilderness he came 
 
 To breathe the freshness of autumnal airs, 
 In solitude remote, where not a voice 
 In accents rude might dare arraign his humble choice. 
 
 89. 
 
 But ever and anon, though Pain awoke, 
 
 Would some sweet odour float upon the gale. 
 
 And the dread spells of wasting anguish broke ; 
 It seemed as if some undiscovered val^ 
 
 Obscured perchance by high o'erarching rock 
 That hope-reviving odour did exhale 
 
 From unseen wildwood flourishing in pride. 
 
 Casting its balmy fragrance far and wide.
 
 VARIA. 21 
 
 90. 
 Or rather did it seem, that in the air 
 
 Angelic forms descending from on high, 
 Did on their wings unearthly odours bear ; 
 
 So deemed the Knight with rising ecstacy ; 
 For now magnificent beyond compare 
 
 Were the wild features of the scenery, 
 As morn's advancing glories 'gan unfold 
 The Autumn's yellow fields and woods of glittering gold. 
 
 91. 
 
 But slowly on his watchful sight arose 
 
 The varied beauties of the sylvan reign. 
 First the sweet fragrance lulled him to repose, 
 
 He felt no more the fiery throbs of pain ; 
 Then a faint lambent flame within him glows,
 
 314 VARIA. 
 
 A gleam of youthful joy revived again 
 Hope shed upon the grass a roseate light, 
 And dim illusions floated o'er his sight. 
 
 92. 
 Then Memory woke, and slowly on his ear 
 
 Fell the sweet notes of music loved of yore ; 
 That mighty Bards first woke in accents clear. 
 
 And o'er all nations endless echoes bore, 
 Immortal strains 'twas ecstacy to hear 
 
 Of power long lost enchantment to restore : 
 Aye, Memory woke those lofty strains, and threw 
 O'er all the rural scenes divine enchantment new.
 
 VARIA. J 15 
 
 93. 
 
 JTragtnent 
 
 O Heaven ! what lovely tints around me play ! 
 
 The sweet enchantments of Autumnal morn ! 
 What nameless bliss assumes unwonted sway ! 
 
 What soothing dreams are on my fancy borne ! 
 Enchantress Hope, awake ! with heavenly ray 
 
 Again illume my pilgrimage forlorn ! 
 Memory, awake ! thy choicest stores unfold, 
 And renovate the joys that charmed my path of old. 
 
 94. 
 Again the glories of the noonday light 
 
 Are spread abroad, and all the scenes are gay, 
 And Fancy revels in creations bright 
 
 As through the shady woodland walks I stray, 
 1
 
 216 VARIA. 
 
 The while the distant landscape charms my sight 
 With richest hues that autumn qan display 
 There purple hills and fields of floating gold 
 Are to my watchful sight alternately unrolled. 
 
 95. 
 
 The influences of that autumnal mom 
 
 Woke every finer sense, and heavenly rays 
 
 Were shed npon the wilderness forlorn, 
 And wild Imagination's kindling blaze 
 
 Did all the woods with matchless light adorn, 
 And without effort flowed the impassioned lays 
 
 Are ccstacies like these deceitful ? No ! 
 
 These are the purest, best, e'er given to man below.
 
 VARiA. air 
 
 96. 
 When the same nerves and frame that but at morn 
 
 Were bathed in Rapture's most delicious trance, 
 The screws reversed, are agonized and tora ; 
 
 And Intellect, whose animating glance 
 Did all the scenes with matchless tints adorn, 
 
 Is quenched and cold and dark j what hope or chance 
 Remains to quell the demons dire that wait, 
 Grinding their fangs, the Ministers of Fate ? 
 
 97. 
 'Tis but a passing cloud a little while. 
 
 And the bright sun will beam abroad again, 
 And the fair prospects in their glory smile. 
 
 And Fancy, with reanimating reign,
 
 218 VARIA. 
 
 With new delights my lonely path beguile, 
 
 And burst the bonds that now my soul enchain ; 
 O then what rapture in my heart will rise, 
 Even at the simplest sight that greets my watchful eyes I 
 
 98. 
 So whispers Hope ; but, oh ! the mournful void, 
 
 The direful sway of anguish and despair ; 
 Remorse for hours unworthily employed 
 
 (Reckless of Nature's lovely scenery fair, 
 Prime treasury of pleasures unalloyed,) 
 
 And thousand nameless fiends my vitals tear. 
 Oh ! when shall Morning on my path diffuse 
 Again her lovely light, and soul-enchanting hues ?
 
 VARIA. 219 
 
 99. 
 The sweet creations of poetic hours, 
 
 Where are they now ? Remembrance only throws 
 A semblance faint, as in November's bowers, 
 
 When the south-wind with balmy influence blows, 
 Or when the winds are hushed, and deeply lowers 
 
 The heavy sky, the fading leaves disclose 
 A faint perfume to him who strays alone 
 Through the wild forest walks with matted leaves bestrown.
 
 230 VARIA. 
 
 100. 
 
 3lnti^enrience* 
 
 And through the live-long night I hdard the rain, 
 And driving night-winds through the forest blow, 
 
 And o'er my soul a melancholy train 
 
 Of visionaiy fears their clouds did throw : 
 
 But when fair morning cheered the scenes again, 
 O then fast fled the sable trains of woe ! 
 
 I marked a rosy light around me shine 
 
 And knew the presence of a guest divine. 
 
 101. 
 Dark, dark and lowering were the clouds, but still 
 
 A radiance emanated from the sky. 
 That gave a magic hue to dale and hill, 
 
 With Autumn's yellow leaves in harmony.
 
 VARIA. 221 
 
 A holy calm my watchful mind did fill 
 Anon ray heart was roused to ecstacy. 
 For Hope's enchanting form before mc stood. 
 And pointed to the path that wound amid the wood. 
 
 102. 
 The cool fresh odours of the copsewood gay 
 
 Did all around a healing balm difiuse) 
 And cheerful I pursued the winding way, 
 
 Deep hung with silvery robe of chilling dews, 
 Till on my view Helvellyn's forehead gray 
 
 Arose adorned by morn's advancing hues, 
 And 'mid the wilderness a temple shone, 
 Whose wonders till that hour were all to me unknown.
 
 222 ' VARIA. 
 
 108. 
 
 Here Independence reigned ; ^her palace high 
 Stood on a rock sublime ; and all around 
 
 Were magic scenes of wild variety. 
 
 And when the arduous pathway I had wound, 
 And the proud portals did asunder fly. 
 
 Oh ! then the fulness of enjoyment crowned 
 My ravished sense ; for many a happy sight 
 Was to the view displayed amid that region bright. 
 
 104. 
 Here one immortal Poet musing strayed ; 
 
 His mind was his own kingdom ; nor the pride 
 Nor pomp of courts could lure him from the shade, 
 
 Wherein his mighty soul soared far and wide
 
 VARIA. 228 
 
 To scenes remote in fairy tints arrayed, 
 
 And every sight and sound did him provide 
 Sweet solace, when the wind blew high or low. 
 Or poured October's rain, or fell December's snow. 
 
 105. 
 Oft times he stood, and listened to the gale. 
 
 That through the hollow caverns moaning past ; 
 And looked upon the fading foliage pale. 
 
 That the night-winds had on his pathway cast ; 
 And when the tempest raved along the vale, 
 
 He loved to hear the roarings of the blast, 
 That more enchanting music could supply, 
 Than all the powers of artful minstrelsy.
 
 224 VARIA. 
 
 106. 
 
 Reckless alike was he of blame or praise ; 
 
 That could not elevate ; nor this depress ; 
 For his own pastime he attuned his lays, 
 
 Ne cared for their failure or success. 
 All doubts and fears were lost amid the blaze 
 
 Of light that did each meaner thought repress, 
 That inward light, that bears aloft the soul 
 To realms where other worlds in boundless ocean roll.
 
 VARIA. 225 
 
 107. 
 
 ifragment* 
 
 Amid the mists of a November morn, 
 Metliought I marked a castle proud arise, 
 
 Whose mouldering ivied walls with age were worn : 
 My heart was roused to kindling ecstacies ; 
 
 For ne'er till then did scene so wild, forlorn, 
 Such grandeur in decay delight mine eyes 
 
 Each battlement I marked, and nodding tower. 
 
 And window erst so gay in Beauty's radiant bower. 
 
 108. 
 Then did I mark beneath a portal grey 
 
 The castle's woful owner pensive stand ; 
 It seemed to meet the Morn's first rising ray, 
 
 And breathe her first reviving influence bland
 
 226 VARIA. 
 
 Thither deep musing he had bent his way ; 
 But wizard Indolence, with magic wand. 
 Had lulled to rest each nerve ; and waking sleep 
 Did in perpetual dreams his drowsy senses steep. 
 
 109. 
 But, oh, his visage ! ! not a trace was there 
 
 Of aught that should to living man pertain ; 
 An early victim he of ceaseless care, 
 
 That preyed upon his cheek and parched his brain ; 
 And, Fortitude, alas ! to dire despair. 
 
 Though lingering long, resigned her heavenly reign. 
 Yet in his eye a lambent light arose, 
 As radiant Morn advanced her glories to discloie.
 
 VARIA. 227 
 
 110. 
 
 Then, as in splendour onwards moved the day, 
 
 "Wild mountains shewed their rugged cliifs o'ergrown 
 
 With wildwood, where, yet lovely in decay, 
 In dewy light the yellow foliage shone ; 
 
 Then, as the silvery mist-wreaths rolled away, 
 A sunbeam on the glassy lake was thrown, 
 
 And at the sight the redbreast woke his lay. 
 
 And forth advanced the wanderer on his way. 
 
 111. 
 Then changed the scene into a garden fair 
 
 Fair, though beneath November's mournful sway : 
 For oaks and hardier orchard trees were there. 
 Whose varied hues long lingered on the spray ; 
 P
 
 9S8 VARIA. 
 
 And proudly too the pine-tree, never bare, 
 
 And yew fantastic, rose in trim array ; 
 Then marked I where the Melancholy Knight 
 Slow stalking did admire that region of delight 
 
 112. 
 And as along the velvet walks he strayed, 
 
 With leaves bestrown, deep drenched in balmy dews, 
 Faultering in melancholy tones he said, 
 
 " How glorious are the fading forest's hues ! 
 How exquisite the odours of the shade. 
 
 That o'er my languid frame their balm diffuse. 
 O man unwise, those heavenly charms to slight. 
 In crowded scenes to grasp at base impure delight !
 
 VARIA. 229 
 
 113. 
 <* Aye, heavenly are the charms that round me reign 
 
 It is not from the scene that fills mine eyes 
 Alone, nor from the sylvan songster's strain, 
 
 That gleams of hope and confidence arise ; 
 A mightier power this wondrous earth sustains ; 
 
 A secret balm, descending from the skies, 
 Robes the wild groves, and wakes the songster's voice, 
 And bids the wise and good, and pure in heart, rejoice."
 
 380 VARIA. 
 
 114. 
 
 jFragment* 
 
 Bright beams the sun ; the western breezes blow ; 
 
 The scenes are mellowed by transparent haze ; 
 And Nature reassumes the temperate glow, 
 
 That Autumn in her last, last smile displays 
 Ere Winter's blasts awake, and driving snow, 
 
 And not a leaf the dark oak tree arrays. 
 Oh scenes of inexhaustible delight. 
 Guiltless ! Oh might I priee your magic charms aright ! 
 
 115. 
 But Indolence has dulled each nerve, and weighs 
 
 On every sense ; and, wrapt in waking sleep 
 And ceaseless reverie, I waste my days, 
 
 And of the swift-winged hours no reckoning keep j
 
 VARIA. 2SI 
 
 And but in thought I roam the woodland maze, 
 
 And night and day I hear the breezes sweep 
 Round my lone chamber, save when trance profound, 
 And slumber's heavy spells, my senses all have bound. 
 
 116. 
 A charm there is in Winter's awful reign 
 
 Best known to bosoms not untouched by woe ; 
 A charm that more inspires the poet's strain, 
 
 Than all the joys that summer can bestow ; 
 Dear are the driving winds and chilling rain, 
 
 And dear the withered heaps that rest below 
 The parent boughs, on which erewhile so gay 
 They shone beneath the Autumn's magic ray.
 
 232 VARIA. 
 
 117. 
 
 Prince 3lPommpDon 
 
 N^o joy had he in aught that passed around, 
 
 Nor song nor dance his languid soul could sway ; 
 
 Lonely he sought the forest's utmost bound ; 
 Lonely he spent the night, lonely the day : 
 
 But, when the twilight ray with purple crowned 
 The mountain's steep, he watched the slow decay ; 
 
 It seemed as if he drank the lovely light. 
 
 That filled his fancy with creations bright. 
 
 118. 
 Whence is it that he shuns the festive bower, 
 
 Where melting dames are met in bright array 
 To charm with converse sweet the fleeting hour ? 
 
 Whence is it that he loves alone to stray
 
 VARIA. 283 
 
 When the wild light of Even's uncertain shower 
 
 Slowly declines upon the mountain gray ? 
 Ohjl listen, lordings, to my feeble strain, 
 Whilst I the sources of his woes explain \ 
 
 119. 
 'Twas a sweet sylvan scene, where never voice 
 
 Of Bacchanalian rout, or step profane. 
 Nor soul untouched by pure poetic joys, 
 
 Had marred of lonely bliss the tranquil reign 
 For Nature here did in herself rejoice, 
 
 And, fearless, woke the thrush his earliest strain. 
 
 And many a tree, in amorous junction twined. 
 
 Sheltered that faery glade from every ruder wind. 
 
 6
 
 234 VARIA. 
 
 120. 
 
 It chanced amid that lonely scene the Childb 
 His way had bent the tangled woods among, 
 
 What time the sun his dying radiance wild 
 Diffused the peaceful plains and glades along ; 
 
 His soul was wrapt in meditations mild. 
 
 What- while he listened to the cheering song 
 
 That early thrush and woodlark poured amain, 
 
 To hail the tranquil charms of Evening's lovely reign. 
 
 121. 
 As on amid the tangled wood he strayed, 
 
 A radiance rising in the western sky 
 Had all the groves in purple tints arrayed 
 
 Buty oh I for some seraphic minstrelsy
 
 VARIA. 2S5 
 
 To paint the form that, floating through the shade, 
 
 Rose like a sunbeam to his watchful eye ! 
 In vain are all the powers of earthly lay, 
 That form of melting grace and beauty to display. 
 
 122. 
 
 If thou hast ever loved in solitude 
 
 To thread the mazes of the woodland wild; 
 
 
 If thou hast loved along the rocky wood. 
 
 To watch the dying tints of radiance mild ; 
 If thou with genuine fervour hast pursued 
 
 These joys from city tumults far exiled. 
 Then thou may'st picture to thyself a sight, 
 What I may not pourtray, in breathing colours bright.
 
 2S6 VARIA. 
 
 12S. 
 
 That aiigel form that rose so suddenly 
 Faded as ^t ; she came and she is gone, 
 
 Like the wild splendour of the morning sky. 
 On some fantastic clifF of vapour thrown ! " 
 
 And, wrapt in trance of breathless ecstacy, 
 The Youth is left amid the woods alone. 
 
 But never from that hour could earthly dame, 
 
 Or knightly sport, for him the wonted solace frame. 
 
 124. 
 His days were spent in meditations deep 
 
 On her whom he, alas ! might meet no more ; 
 And Hope would with wild visions haunt his sleep, 
 
 (His waking sleep) and all his bliss restore ;
 
 . VARIA. 237 
 
 And when the morn with purple crowned the steep, 
 
 Her rosy wings his wayward fancy bore 
 To heights to all unknown ; and all around 
 Half deemed that madness dire his senses did confound. 
 
 125. 
 In sooth it might of him be rightly said, 
 
 He did not live, but dreamed his time away ; 
 The demon of perpetual thought had made 
 
 The hapless Youth her unresisting prey ; 
 And, or in bower, or in the greenwood shade. 
 
 Alike was his companion night and day. 
 Till his sunk hollow eyes, abstracted air, 
 Did all the woes of hopeless love declare.
 
 238 VARIA. 
 
 \26. 
 Vain was the song, the dance ; alone he seemed 
 
 Even in the midst of multitudes ; in vain 
 Did ladies cast their smiles, that ail had deemed 
 Celestial, who were numbered in their train ; 
 In vain enlivening tapers brightly gleamed, 
 
 And minstrels raised on high the jocund strain : 
 In waking sleep he moved ; all outward things 
 Were profitless and void, fantastic shadowings. 
 
 127. 
 
 One only maiden bright there was who knew 
 His soul to charm ; a slow and plaintive strain 
 
 From voice and harp with trembling touch she drew. 
 And yet, alas ! her knowledge was in vain ;
 
 VARIA. 28 9 
 
 For when the strain was done, away he flew ! 
 The song, but not the songstress, could obtain 
 His cold regard ; and, still, the forest through 
 His lonely way he bent, his visions to renew. 
 
 128. 
 How sweet the obscurities of early morn, 
 
 While yet, in sleep, all nature seems to lie, 
 Save, from amid the misty copsewood borne, 
 
 Rise wandering witch-notes of wild minstrelsy ! 
 'Twas that sweet early hour the white hawthorn 
 
 Gave odours sweet as gales of Araby j 
 For May's luxuriant reign in hill and dale 
 Loaded with sweets ambrosial every gale.
 
 240 VARIA. 
 
 129. 
 
 A vision rose ; and thus the Youth addrest : 
 ** In dreams no longer wear thy life away ; 
 
 The peerless maid whose image fires thy breast. 
 The sceptre of a distant land doth sway : 
 
 Befits it then in dull inglorious rest 
 
 And empty visions thus, from day to day, 
 
 Thy time to waste, nor strive in Glory's plain 
 
 One honourable wreath of laurel to obtain ? 
 
 ISO. 
 
 " Lo ! now tlie radiance of the morning sky 
 Illumes with rosy light the dewy plain ; 
 
 And, hark ! the thrush awakes his melody, 
 Emprising thus his amorous suit to gain
 
 VARIA. 241 
 
 Listen ! Oh mark his thrilling minstrelsy 
 
 How fiill, how sweet, how passionate the strain ! 
 And is it meet for thee no lay to wake. 
 No service to endure for thy sweet Empress' sake ? 
 
 131. 
 " Shall not the breezy incense-breathing air 
 
 Thy soul awake, and bid thy frame expand 
 With resolutions proud to spurn despair. 
 
 And prove thy puissance at my command ? 
 Lo ! I am with thee still ; my guardian care 
 
 Shall guide thee in thy course from land to land. 
 Sufferings thou may'st endure, and dangers dire. 
 But purer shall come forth from sorrow's searching fire."
 
 242 VARIA. 
 
 132. 
 Realms of enchantment, where the Youth pursued 
 
 His venturous way, whilom full well I knew 
 The loveliest scenery of your solitude, 
 
 ^nd from your charms sweet inspiration drew ; 
 And careless wove the flowers in sportive mood, 
 
 That round my path in gay luxuriance grew ; 
 But, ah ! the days, so sweet, but give the sting 
 Of bitter contrast now, to hopeless sorrowing.
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Q
 
 POEMS. 
 
 TO 
 
 SIR S. E. BRYDGES, K. J. M. P. 
 
 ON READING 
 
 HASTY LINES," &c. 
 
 1. 
 
 There are, alas ! who view this " living scene," 
 
 Yon heaven of azure and this earth of green. 
 And all the charms of grove or haunted dell, 
 Yet feel no rising throbs of rapture swell j 
 There are, who view the kindling g|ow of morn 
 With purple fringe the distant hills adorn ;
 
 246 POEMS. 
 
 There are, who mark the fading light of even, 
 And hear the wood-notes on the breezes driven ; 
 Yet to their grovelling souls no sweets are known. 
 Save the dull sway of sensual joys alone. 
 
 2. 
 What are the richest charms of Nature's store, 
 " The warbling woodland, the resounding shore," 
 Till brightened by the matchless light of mind, 
 " Pure, and by" heaven^irected " toils rcfmai ?"- 
 Nought but a treasure open to the eye. 
 But locked from use by demon Apathy ! 
 
 5. 
 
 But lays there are, of soul-exalting power 
 To weave enchantments in the simplest bower ;
 
 POEMS. 247 
 
 Resistless lays that twine about the heart, 
 And bid each mean emotion thence depart ; 
 Duty to passion turn ; exalt each joy ; 
 Sooth every grief; each base-born care destroy ; 
 Mid winter's storms bid brightest sunshine glow. 
 Through desert wilds bid streams of gladness flow ! 
 Such heavenly power resides in verse divine, 
 O Bard of Wootton ! and such lays are thine !
 
 48 POEMS. 
 
 ON READING 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, 
 
 MAY 12, 1810. 
 
 1. 
 
 S\v^ET are the twilight's amber rays 
 
 That on the northern mountain die ; 
 And sweet the blackbird's soothing lays 
 
 That hail those fading tints on high 
 But sweeter far his ardent strain 
 Who wakes the " moimtain harp again," 
 And pours in varied course along 
 The tide of high romantic song.
 
 POEMS. S40 
 
 2. 
 
 Though dear the pensive dreams that fill 
 
 My heart, when at the close of day 
 I watch along the northern hill 
 
 Fair Twilight's last departing ray, 
 I feel with more supreme delight 
 That when to them I bid good night, 
 When Time has spoiled this forest gay^ 
 When ages shall have passed away, 
 His song shall triumph o'er decay. 
 
 3. 
 How many a bard will on thy page, 
 
 O Scott, the raptured tear bestow ! 
 How many a lovelorn heart assuage 
 
 Its own, in tracmg others' woe.
 
 250 POEMS. 
 
 How many a lonely hour be cheered^ 
 How many a faery vision reared. 
 When ages shall have passed away. 
 And base detraction met decay !
 
 POEMS. 251 
 
 FRAGMENT, 
 
 WRITTEN IN GLENFINLAS.* 
 
 1. 
 
 That restless fire was in my breast 
 Which haunts my path in solitude, 
 
 Up the grey mountain's side I prest 
 To seek the cavern's shelter rude : 
 
 I twined the heath-bell's lingering flowers ; 
 
 The light which cheers my lonely hours 
 
 Was glowing mid the autumnal wood, 
 
 And charm'd the path of solitude. 
 
 * First published in the Edinburgh Annual Register for 1809.
 
 25? POEMS. 
 
 2. 
 The mountain air was calm and pure, 
 
 No sound was through the forest borne, 
 Save from afer, on Lowland moor. 
 
 When rose the voice of hound and horn. 
 Through scenes remote and wild I stray 'd, 
 O'er rocky steep and haunted glade ; 
 And when the autumnal day was done 
 I rested on a mossy stone. 
 
 S. 
 
 Through broken cliffs and woods afar 
 Was seen the twilight's radiance bright ; 
 
 And, dear to lovers' eyes, the star 
 Of Eve disclosed her silvery Jight.
 
 POEMS. 258 
 
 It was a sad and soothing scene ; 
 A train of cherished thoughts serene, 
 Offspring of Fancy, sweetly stole 
 With magic influence on my soul. 
 
 4. 
 No murmur broke the rising dream 
 
 That floated on my ravish'd sight, 
 Save when the roar of mountain stream 
 
 Loaded the balmy breeze of night ; 
 Or when the leaves, that yet exhale 
 A dying fragrance in the gale. 
 Borne by the zephyr from on high, 
 Fell rustling on my closed eye. 
 * # # *
 
 25t POEMS. 
 
 5. 
 Mcthought that while I gazed on high. 
 
 And watch'd declining tints afar, 
 A form seem'd issuing from the sky 
 
 More bright than Eve's refulgent star. 
 I traced its flight o'er Ben Venue , 
 More near the glorious vision drew, 
 Till, beaming through the tangled wood. 
 That heavenly shape before me stood. 
 
 6. 
 The seraph bore a female form ; 
 
 Light robes of tartan round her flew ; 
 An airy harp hung on her arm, 
 
 Intwined with flowers of various hue.
 
 POEMS. 255 
 
 A dazzling glory round her shone ; 
 She pointed to the mountains lone, 
 Where grey Glenfinlas lies, o'erhung 
 By rocks in wild disorder flung. 
 
 7. 
 
 " These are the realms," she said, " where long- 
 Have I, with guardian care, survey'd 
 
 The scenes that once awoke the song 
 Of bards divine that hither stray'd : 
 
 The Genius of that land am I, 
 
 "Where every pine-clad steep on high. 
 
 Each lonely sheal or ruin grey^ 
 
 Or even the trembling of a spray, 
 
 Recalls the marvellous deeds of yore, 
 
 And legends of mysterious lore.
 
 25 POEMS. 
 
 8. 
 
 ** There is not in yon valley wide 
 A cliff that hoary lichens bind ; 
 Scarce in the wild a spot descried, 
 
 With which a tale is not intwined. 
 That might with lofty strains inspire 
 Each master of the heavenly lyre. 
 And still unfading bloom display, 
 Till woods and rocks themselves decay. 
 
 9. 
 
 ^ There, mid the shaggy solitude^ 
 The voice of a diviner age 
 
 Exalts the soul to holy mood, 
 Or wakes to sympathetic rage.
 
 POEMS. 257 
 
 Those martial strains are heard again. 
 That ne'er to battle call'd in vain, 
 And ghosts of former heroes glide, 
 Grim beckoning from the mountain side. 
 
 10. 
 " But soon the withering grasp of Time, 
 
 Who moves with silent viewless flight, 
 Shall doom those beauteous themes sublime 
 
 Unsung to never-ending night. 
 Their glories, like the leaves which now 
 Chill frosts are stealing from the bough, 
 Unaided by the poet's lyre. 
 In dark oblivion shall expire.
 
 958 POEMS. 
 
 11. 
 
 * O seize their beauties ere they die, 
 While yet the pastoral life remains ; 
 
 My willing aid shall still be nigh, 
 To prompt for thee the impassion'd strains 
 
 Even yet the hoary seer can tell 
 
 The fortunes strange that here befell 
 
 Full many a mighty cJiief of old 
 
 In legendary fame inrolled : 
 
 listen, ere their charms are fled, 
 And mix*d for ever with the dead !" 
 
 12. 
 
 1 woke ; the lovely dream was gone ; 
 
 Yet on the balmy gale of even
 
 POEMS. S59 
 
 Celestial melodies were thrown, 
 
 And now retreating rose to Heaven. ' 
 Each object in the woodland range 
 By moonlight seem'd more wild and strange : 
 The lengthening vale below was lost 
 In shadowy mist and dazzling frost ; 
 The silvery beams with glittering play 
 Danced on the waves of Loch Achray ; 
 And as I hail'd the charms of night. 
 Mine inward gleams were passing bright. 
 
 K
 
 260 POEMS. 
 
 ELEGY.* 
 
 With what delight, mid yonder shades serene, 
 I hear the thrillmg minstrelsy of Heaven ! 
 
 To me, how soothing is yon kindred scene ! 
 To me how balmy this cool breath of even ! 
 
 In former years, mid these same shades remote, 
 At the same hour, and self-same season sweet. 
 
 Oft have I thus the peaceful woodlands sought. 
 To muse, sequestered, in the calm retreat. 
 
 * First published in the Edinburgh Annual Register.
 
 POEMS. J61 
 
 Then, boundless charms, bright as the youthful year. 
 
 In swift succession, ever-varying rose j 
 While Hope's enchanting form was ever near, 
 
 To sooth my light and transitory woes, 
 
 youthful joys, how quickly do ye pass, 
 
 And like the morning cloud ye fade away ; , 
 Or like the dew-drops, trembling on the grass. 
 That fly the glances of advancing day ! 
 
 1 seek not now yon kindred shades serene, 
 
 To meet those pleasures that illumed the past ; 
 Fled is the pleasing, gay, delusive scene : 
 
 Those dreams, alas ! were too, too sweet to last.
 
 SSt POEMS. 
 
 I wander mournful through the well-known shade ; 
 
 The weak line drops unfinished from my tongue I- 
 But still I love the splendours here displayed, 
 
 And yet enjoy the woodlark's evening song. 
 
 Perchance, when at the high behest of Heaven 
 ]V|y soul is called to unknown realms afar. 
 
 Death may draw near, like the deep shades of Even, 
 And meet me thus beneath her dewy star. 
 
 Tlien, be it mine to sink, unseen, alone, 
 
 Without one friend to heave the pitying sigh. 
 
 In some dark grove, deserted and unknown. 
 While the loved woodlark sings a requiem nigh.
 
 POEMS. ges 
 
 I. 
 
 You ask why on my lips the smile 
 
 Seems forced, and ever fades away ; 
 You ask why in my eyes the while 
 
 No gleam of gladness seems to play ; 
 You ask why in my hollow cheek 
 
 No hues of youthful transport glow. 
 But hectic fires my visage streak. 
 
 Or yield to pallid tints of woe. 
 I dare not tell the woes that spring 
 
 Unceasing in my wasted frame 
 Still deepening gloom around me fling. 
 
 And bar the radiant gates of Fame.
 
 364 POEMS. 
 
 You bid me tune my lyre to themes 
 
 Of mirth and gladness as of yore, 
 And renovate the faery dreams 
 
 That might my peace of mind restore. 
 But when did roses in the wild 
 
 Of sea-beat rocks uncultured blow i 
 Or when did zephyrs soft and mild 
 
 Arise from fields of polar snow ? 
 For me there is no joy the ray 
 
 Of Hope has long been sunk in gloom ; 
 The magic hues have died away 
 
 That wont around my path to bloom. 
 
 IL 
 
 Thou knoVst not what it is to frame 
 lUuaions bright as those that rise,
 
 POEMS. 265 
 
 When o'er the ocean waves of flame 
 
 The sun sinks in the western skies j 
 Thou know'st not what it is to stray 
 Through fields in magical array, 
 Such as for poets only bloom 
 Therefore thou canst not know the gloom- 
 The cureless anguish of the heart 
 When these wild raptures all depart. 
 When all is desolate and cold, 
 And nought appears on wood and wold 
 But solitude, and pain, and woe ; 
 These miseries thou canst never know.
 
 66 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 Aye! there is on my soul a weight 
 
 Of woe that faia would have relief, 
 And fein would I to thee relate 
 
 The sources of my secret grief. 
 It may not be the tale would bring 
 Of self-reproach the keener sting 
 Suffice it but so much to teU, 
 *Twas not by my own guilt IftU I 
 The hopes that lingered in my breast 
 Were such as thou would'st deem the best ! 
 I saw the radiant forms arise, 
 I heard celestial harmonies ; 
 At distance far a lovely land 
 I marked in glorious hues expand ; 
 But nearer dared not could not go 
 Most true, though strange, my tale of woe !
 
 POEMS. 267 
 
 Oct. 26. 
 How deep the calm of this autumnal day ! 
 Scarce 'mid the leaves the whispering breezes play ; 
 Though frequent on ray path the leaves that fall 
 Remembrance of the fading year recall ; 
 How soon the wildwood's glories wiU be past ! 
 With every breath the foliage fades how fast ! 
 And shall those lovely hues all meet decay 
 Without the homage of one grateful lay ? 
 Frail as the gossamer that in the sun 
 This moment shines, and is the next undone;, 
 Are the wild visions of the bard, and fast 
 They wither like the leaves before the blast ;
 
 26S POEMS* 
 
 And not a trace remains, but dark and chili, 
 Life*s dread realities the prospect fill. 
 
 Remove the heavenward energies of Mind, 
 And level with the brutes are all mankind ! 
 Who feel no kindling ecstacies arise 
 From the fair scenery that around them lies. 
 How lonely then the poet*6 lot below. 
 Where so, so few the charms of Virtue know ! 
 So few the right prefer, and shun the wrong ; 
 So few can taste the moral charms of song ! 
 But he to lone and trackless woods retires. 
 Where angels lull his grief with heavenly lyres ; 
 And Patience, Hope, and Fortitude attend ; 
 And Virtue forms his Guardian and his Friend.
 
 POEMS. 209 
 
 Though loftier souls may soar to loftier state, 
 
 " They also serve who only stand and wait I"* 
 And oft from distant woods a voice will rise 
 
 In accents grateful to the Good and Wise, 
 
 To tell the joys that in retirement reign. 
 
 Where none who rightly sought e'er sought in vain 
 
 The balm which Heaven imparts those wounds to heal, 
 
 Which souls refined, in earthly mansions, feel. 
 
 ^< God doth not need 
 
 Either man's work or his own gifts ; who best 
 Bear his mild yoke they serve him best ; his state 
 Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed, 
 And post o'er land and ocean without rest ; 
 They also serve who only stand and wait." 
 
 Milton.
 
 270 FOEM8* 
 
 SONNET I. 
 
 Genius of leaves and flowers, that to the gale 
 
 Thy cooling sweets impart'st, O give to me 
 
 Thy balmy solace ; I have need of thee 
 To sooth the feverish throbbings that assail 
 My worn-out frame : for many a spectre pale 
 
 Haunts my lone path and leads to misery ; 
 
 And O how rarely from their influence free 
 Have mine hours glided in life's tearful vale ? 
 Yet not the less has my heart swelled to hear 
 
 Thy heavenly lays, where every virtue glows, 
 And brightest hues of Intellect appear. 
 
 And the full tide of inspiration flows, 
 Brydges admired ! whose glory never sere 
 
 Its bloom to countless ages shall disclose !
 
 POEMS. 371 
 
 SONNET II. 
 
 ON THE RUINS OF KINCARDINE CASTLE. 
 
 Ye mouldering heaps and time-worn fragments gray 
 How gladly would the admiring mind restore 
 Your vanished forms and grandeur now no more. 
 
 When barons, knights, and dames in proud array 
 
 'Mid these deserted scenes oft bent their way, 
 And rung thy roofs to minstrel tales of yore, 
 Whose tones to distant plains the breezes bore. 
 
 When Scotland's kings might here the sceptre sway ! 
 For lovely is the landscape all around. 
 
 While now the autumn's yellow gleams unfold 
 Far distant prospects of enchanted ground. 
 
 Lakes, woods, and mountains, fields of waving gold ; 
 And Fancy bids her richest stores abound, 
 
 And memory wakes again the deeds of old !
 
 272 POEMS. 
 
 SONNET III. 
 
 ON RURAL SCENERY. 
 
 Though in my feeble frame no transports glow, 
 And in my mind no visions wild arise. 
 Yet while the radiance of autumnal skies 
 
 Beams on the scene, a holy calm I know. 
 
 And dim illusions on my fancy flow ! 
 
 Tranquil I mark the redbreast's harmonies, 
 
 n' 
 
 And with faint rapture trace the varying dies 
 That o'er the woods their livelier influence throw. 
 O wherefore, when autumnal charms abound. 
 
 Should low-born cares e'er cloud the landscape gay ?- 
 Enchantress Hope, awake ! and shed around 
 
 The matchless light thou only canst display ! 
 Then shall I travel on enchanted ground. 
 
 And GricPs pale clouds dissolving fade away !
 
 POEMS. 278 
 
 SONNET IV. 
 
 ON VISITING THE RUINED CASTLE OP FINELLA, 
 COUNTESS OF ANGUS.* 
 
 When on the melancholy heath no ray 
 Of autumn beams, but the once lovely sky, 
 Big with portentous gloom, lours heavily, 
 
 Mid these wild scenes how sweet to waste the day, 
 
 Soothed by reviving Fancy's magic sway ! 
 
 While many a mystic train, to charm the eye, 
 Of forms from death recall'd comes floating by, 
 
 And all around obscure illusions play 1 
 
 There tones aerial meet the charmed ear 
 Of the long-silent hunter's cheering horn ; 
 
 Who contrived the assassination of Kenneth II. in revenge for 
 that king's murder of her son at Scone.
 
 874 POEMS. 
 
 Departed chiefs and glittering dames appear, 
 And bold Finella decks the scenes forlorn j 
 
 Wild voices shout revenge ! in accents clear. 
 And clanging war-notes in the blast are borne.
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 Like the pale maniac^ on whose wildered brain 
 The light of joy and reason breaks anew, 
 
 Who hears Affection's voice, and breathes again 
 Spring's balmy gale, wafted the forest through. 
 
 Each flower beloved in youth I fondly greet ; 
 
 Drink the fresh spirit of the yellow broom ; 
 The hoary hawthorn's rising fragrance meet, 
 
 And watch the gleams of morn the groves illume.
 
 97$ POEMS. 
 
 Here shall I tread again the flowery maze, 
 And eager hail the wonders of Romance ;, 
 
 Perchance, ere yet the twilight of my days. 
 On mc the Muse may cast a favouring glance.* 
 
 I would not, like those early blossoms, fade. 
 That now, alas ! on yonder bough expire ; 
 
 Or, like the " daffodils/' recline the head, 
 Nor leave one living record of the l3rre.f 
 
 * Fuit <pila-fAa / 
 
 t " Fair daffodils ! we weep to see 
 You haste away so soon," &c. Merrick. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Edinburgh : 
 Printed by James Ballantyne & Co. 
 
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