Than men from memory erase The benefits of former days; Then, stranger, go! good speed the while, Nor think again of the lonely isle. "High place to thee in royal court, Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport, III. SONG CONTINUED. "But if beneath yon southern sky "Or if on life's uncertain main Mishap shall mar thy sail; 1 [MS.-" At tourneys where the brave resort."] If faithful, wise, and brave in vain, Beneath the fickle gale; Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, IV. As died the sounds upon the tide, The shallop reach'd the mainland side, His reverend brow was raised to heaven, As from the rising sun to claim A sparkle of inspiring flame. V. Upon a rock with lichens wild, Beside him Ellen sate and smiled.- Perchance the maiden smiled to see VI. While yet he loiter'd on the spot, And his dark stag-hounds by his side, The guardian in her bosom chid 66 Thy Malcolm! vain and selfish maid!" On the smooth phrase of southern tongue; Wake Allan-bane," aloud she cried, 1 [MS." The loveliest Lowland fair to spy."] 2 The ancient and powerful family of Graham (which, for metrical reasons is here spelt after the Scottish pronunciation) held extensive possessions in the counties of Dumbarton and Stirling. Few families can boast of more historical renown, having claim to three of the most remarkable characters in the Scottish annals. Sir John the Græme, the faithful and undaunted partaker of the labours and patriotic warfare of Wallace, fell in the unfortunate field of Falkirk, in 1298. The celebrated Marquis of Montrose, in whom De Retz saw realized his abstract of the heroes of antiquity, was the second of these worthies. And, notwithstanding the severity of his temper, and the rigour with which he executed the oppressive mandates of the princes whom he served, I do not hesitate to name as a third, John Græme, of Claverhouse, Scarce from her lips the word had rush'd, Young Malcolm Græme was held the flower. VII. The Minstrel waked his harp-three times In melancholy murmurs died. 'Vainly thou bid'st, O noble maid," Clasping his wither'd hands, he said, 66 'Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain, Though all unwont to bid in vain. Alas! than mine a mightier hand Has tuned my harp, my strings has spann'd! I touch the chords of joy, but low And mournful answer notes of woe; And the proud march, which victors tread, Sinks in the wailing for the dead. O well for me, if mine alone This harp, which erst Saint Modan sway'd,1 Viscount of Dundee, whose heroic death, in the arms of victory, may be allowed to cancel the memory of his cruelty to the non-conformists, during the reigns of Charles II. and James II. 1 I am not prepared to show that Saint Modan was a performer on the harp. It was, however, no unsaintly accom |