And Normans call me James Fitz-James.
Thus watch I o'er insulted laws,
Thus learn to right the injured cause.”—
Then, in a tone apart and low,

-"Ah, little trait'ress! none must know
What idle dream, what lighter thought,
What vanity full dearly bought,
Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew
My spell-bound steps to Benvenue,1

In dangerous hour, and almost gave
Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive!”—
Aloud he spoke-" Thou still dost hold
That little talisman of gold,

Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring-2
What seeks fair Ellen of the King?"

Snawdoun from snedding, or cutting. It was probably derived from the romantic legend which connected Stirling with King Arthur, to which the mention of the Round Table gives countenance. The ring within which justs were formerly practised, in the castle park, is still called the Round Table. Snawdoun is the official title of one of the Scottish heralds, whose epithets seem in all countries to have been fantastically adopted from ancient history or romance.

It appears (see Appendix Note Q.) that the real name by which James was actually distinguished in his private excursions, was the Goodman of Ballenguich; derived from a steep pass leading up to the Castle of Stirling, so called. But the epithet would not have suited poetry, and would besides at once, and prematurely, have announced the plot to many of my countrymen, among whom the traditional stories above mentioned are still current.

1 [MS.-"Thy sovereign back
Thy sovereign's steps

to Benvenue."]

2 [MS." Pledge of Fitz-James's faith, the ring."]

XXIX.

Full well the conscious maiden guess'd
He probed the weakness of her breast;
But, with that consciousness, there came
A lightening of her fears for Græme,

1

And more she deem'd the Monarch's ire

Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire,
Rebellious broadsword boldly drew;
And, to her generous feeling true,
She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu.—
"Forbear thy suit :-the King of Kings
Alone can stay life's parting wings,

I know his heart, I know his hand,
Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand:-
My fairest earldom would I give

To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live!—
Hast thou no other boon to crave?
No other captive friend to save?
Blushing, she turn'd her from the King,
And to the Douglas gave the ring,
As if she wish'd her sire to speak
The suit that stain'd her glowing cheek.—
"Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force,
And stubborn justice holds her course.—

1 [MS.—" And in her breast strove maiden shame;
More deep she deem'd the Monarch's ire
Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire,
Against his Sovereign broadsword drew;
And, with a pleading, warm and true,
She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu."]

Malcolm, come forth!”—And, at the word,
Down kneel'd the Græme1 to Scotland's Lord.
"For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues,
From thee may Vengeance claim her dues,
Who, nurtured underneath our smile,
Hast paid our care by treacherous wile,
And sought, amid thy faithful clan,
A refuge for an outlaw'd man,
Dishonouring thus thy loyal name.—
Fetters and warder for the Græme!".
His chain of gold the King unstrung,
The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung,
Then gently drew the glittering band,
And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand.2

1 [Malcolm Græme has too insignificant a part assigned him, considering the favour in which he is held both by Ellen and the author; and in bringing out the shaded and imperfect character of Roderick Dhu, as a contrast to the purer virtue of his rival, Mr. Scott seems to have fallen into the common error, of making him more interesting than him whose virtues he was intended to set off, and converted the villain of the piece in some measure into its hero. A modern poet, however, may perhaps be pardoned for an error, of which Milton, himself is thought not to have kept clear, and for which there seems so natural a cause in the difference between poetical and amiable characters."-JEFFREY.]

2 ["And now, waving myself, let me talk to you of the Prince Regent. He ordered me to be presented to him at a ball; and after some sayings peculiarly pleasing from royal lips, as to my own attempts, he talked to me of you and your immortalities: he preferred you to every bard past and present, and asked which of your works pleased me most. It was a difficult question. I answered, I thought the 'Lay.'

He said his own opinion was nearly similar. In speaking of the others, I told him that I thought you more particularly the poet of Princes, as they never appeared more fascinating than in 'Marmion' and the 'Lady of the Lake.' He was pleased to coincide, and to dwell on the description of your Jameses as no less royal than poetical. He spoke alternately of Homer and yourself, and seemed well acquainted with both." &c.— Letter from Lord Byron to Sir Walter Scott, July 6, 1812. BYRON'S Life and Works, vol. ii. p. 156.]

HARP of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark,
On purple peaks a deeper shade descending;
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark,
The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending.
Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending,
And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy;
Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending,
With distant echo from the fold and lea,
And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing
bee.

Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp!
Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway,
And little reck I of the censure sharp

May idly cavil at an idle lay.

Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, Through secret woes the world has never known, When on the weary night dawn'd wearier day,

And bitterer was the grief devour'd alone. That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine

own.

Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire,
Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string!

'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire,
'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing.