The frost-wind soon snall sweep away That lustre deep from glen and brae; Yet Nora, ere its bloom be gone,

May blithely wed the Earlie's son."

III.

"The swan," she said, "the lake's clear breast May barter for the eagle's nest;

The Awe's fierce stream may backward turn,
Ben-Cruaichan fall, and crush Kilchurn;
Our kilted clans, when blood is high,
Before their foes may turn and fly;

But I, were all these marvels done,

Would never wed the Earlie's son."

IV.

Still in the water-lily's shade

Her wonted nest the wild-swan made;
Ben-Cruaichan stands as fast as ever,
Still downward foams the Awe's fierce river;
To shun the clash of foeman's steel,
No Highland brogue has turn'd the heel;
But Nora's heart is lost and won,
-She's wedded to the Earlie's son!

Macgregor's Gathering.

AIR-" Thain' a Grigalach."

WRITTEN FOR ALBYN'S ANTHOLOGY.

Glen Orchy's proud mountainc, Coalchuirn and her

towers,

Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours;

We're landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!
Landless, landless, landless, &c.

But doom'd and devoted by vassal and lord, MacGregor has still both his heart and his sword! Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach! Courage, courage, courage, &c.

If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles, Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to the eagles!

Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Griga lach!

Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, &c.

While there's leaves in the forest, and foam on the river,

MacGregor, despite them, shall flourish for ever!

Come then, Grigalach, come then, Grigalach.
Come then, come then, come then, &c.

Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shal career,

O'er the peak of Ben-Lomond the galley shall steer, And the rocks of Craig-Royston like icicles melt, Ere our wrongs be forgot, or our vengeance unfelt! Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach! Gather, gather, gather, &c.

1816.

These verses are adapted to a very wild, yet lively gathering-tune, used by the MacGregors. The severe treatment of this Clan, their outlawry, and the proscription of their very name, are alluded to in the Ballad.

THE moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae, And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day; Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach! Gather, gather, gather, &c.

Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew, Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo! Then haloo, Grigalach! haloo, Grigalach! Haloo, haloo, haloo, Grigalach, &c.

COMPOSED FOR THE OCCASION, ADAPTED TO HAYDN'S AIR,

"God Save the Emperor Francis,"

AND SUNG BY A SELECT BAND AFTER THE DINNER GIVEN BY THE LORD PROVOST OF EDINBURGH TO THE

GRAND-DUKE NICHOLAS OF RUSSIA,

AND HIS SUITE, 19TH DECEMBER, 1816. GOD protect brave ALEXANDER, Heaven defend the noble Czar, Mighty Russia's high Commander, First in Europe's banded war; For the realms he did deliver From the tyrant overthrown,

"The MacGregor is come."

a "Rob Roy MacGregor's own designation was of Innernaid; but he appears to have acquired a right of some kind or

where that beautiful lake stretches into the dusky mountains of Glenfalloch."-Introduction to Rob Roy, Waverley Novels, vol. vii. p. 31.

"THE window of a turret, which projected at an angle with the wall, and thus came to be very near Lovel's apartment, was half open, and from that quarter he heard again the same music which had probably broken short his dream. With its visionary character it had lost much of its charms-it was now nothing more than an air on the harpsicord, tolerably well performed-such is the caprice of imagination as affecting the fine arts. A female voice sung, with some taste and great simplicity, something between a song and a hymn, in words to the following effect :"

"WHY sit'st thou by that ruin'd hall,

Thou aged carle so stern and grey?

Dost thou its former pride rccal,

Or ponder how it pass'd away?"

"Know'st thou not me?" the Deep Voice cried; "So long enjoy'd, so oft misusedAlternate, in thy fickle pride,

Desired, neglected, and accused!

"Before my breath, like blazing flax,
Mar. and his marvels pass away!
And charging empires wane and wax,
Are founded, flourish, and decay.

1 Mr., afterwards Sir William Arbuthnot, the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, who had the honour to entertain the GrandDuke, now Emperor of Russia, was a personal friend of Sir

(3.)-ELSPETH'S BALLAD.

"As the Antiquary lifted the latch of the hut, he was surprised to hear the shrill tremulous voice of Elspeth chanting forth an old ballad in a wild and doleful recitative:”—

THE herring loves the merry moon-light, The mackerel loves the wind,

But the oyster loves the dredging sang, For they come of a gentle kind.

Now haud your tongue, baith wife and carle,
And listen great and sma',

And I will sing of Glenallan's Earl
That fought on the red Harlaw.

The cronach's cried on Bennachie,
And doun the Don and a',

And hieland and lawland may mournfu' be
For the sair field of Harlaw.-

They saddled a hundred milk-white steeds,
They hae bridled a hundred black,
With a chafron of steel on each horse's head,
And a good knight upon his back.

They hadna ridden a mile, a mile,
A mile, but barely ten,

Walter Scott's; and these Verses, with their heading, are now
given from the newspapers of 1816.
2T

MOTTOES IN THE ANTIQUARY.

"THE scraps of poetry which have been in most cases tacked to the beginning of chapters in these Novels, are sometimes quoted either from reading or from memory, but, in the general case, are pure invention. I found it too troublesome to turn to the collection of the British Poets to discover apposite mottoes, and, in the situation of the theatrical mechanist, who, when the white paper which represented his shower of snow was exhausted, continued the shower by snowing brown, I drew on my memory as long as I could, and when that

failed, eked it out with invention. I believe that, in some cases, where actual names are affixed to the supposed quotations, it would be to little purpose to seck them in the works of the authors referred to. In some cases, I have been entertained when Dr. Watts and other graver authors have been ransacked in vain for stanzas for which the novelist alone was responsi ble."-Introduction to Chronicles of the Canongate.

I knew Anselmo. He was shrewd and prudent,
Wisdom and cunning had their shares of him;
But he was shrewish as a wayward child,
And pleased again by toys which childhood please:
As-book of fables graced with print of wood,
Or else the jingling of a rusty medal,
Or the rare melody of some old ditty,
That first was sung to please King Pepin's cradle.

"Be brave," she cried, " you yet may be our guest
Our haunted room was ever held the best:
If, then, your valour can the fight sustain
Of rustling curtains, and the clinking chain;
If your courageous tongue have powers to talk,
When round your bed the horrid ghost shall walk
If you dare ask it why it leaves its tomb,
I'll see your sheets well air'd, and show the room."
True Story

Sometimes he thinks that Heaven this vision sent, And order'd all the pageants as they went; Sometimes that only 'twas wild Fancy's play, The loose and scatter'd relics of the day.

Beggar!-the only freemen of your Commonwealth Free above Scot-free, that observe no laws,

Obey no governor, use no religion

But what they draw from their own ancient customs Or constitute themselves, yet they are no rebeis.

Here has been such a stormy encounter,
Betwixt my cousin Captain, and this soldier,
About I know not what!-nothing, indeed;
Competitions, degrees, and comparatives
Of soldiership!-

Never presume to serve her any more;
Bid farewell to the integrity of arms,
And the honourable name of soldier
Fall from you, like a shiver'd wreath of lanrel
By thunder struck from a desertlesse forehead.