Various and vague the dry leaves dance their but we subjoin a translation of them, by Secundus round; M'Pherson, Esq., of Glenforgen; which, although submitted to the fetters of English rhythm, we trust will be found nearly as genuine as the ver. sion of Ossian by his celebrated namesake." 1. BIRDS of omen dark and foul, There to wink and mop, for, hark! DARK on their journey lour'd the gloomy day, show'd "TUNING her instrument, and receiving an assenting look from Lord Monteit' and Allan, Annot Lyle executed the following ballad, which our friend, Mr. Secundus M'Pherson, whose goodness The mansion which received them from the road. we had before to acknowledge, has thus translated into the English tongue:"— NOVEMBER'S hail-cloud drifts away, The orphan by the oak was set, Her arms, her feet, were bare; The hail-drops had not melted yet, Amid her raven hair. "And dame," she said, "by all the ties The Travellers, a Romance. (2.)-CHAP. XI. Is this thy castle, Baldwin? Melancholy (3.)-CHAP. XIV. Browne. This was the entry, then, these stairs-but whithe after? Yet he that's sure to perish on the land (3.)-SAXON WAR-SONG. "THE fire was spreading rapidly through all parts of the castle, when Ulrica, who had first kindled it, appeared on a turret, in the guise of one of the ancient furies, yelling forth a war-song, such as was of yore chanted on the field of battle by the yet heathen Saxons. Her long dishevelled gray hair flew back from her uncovered head; the inebriating delight of gratified vengeance contended in her eyes with the fire of insanity; and she brandished the distaff which she held in her hand, as if she had been one of the Fatal Sisters, who spin and abridge the thread of human life. Tradition has preserved some wild strophes of the barbarous hymn which she chanted wildly amid that scene of fire and slaughter:" All must perish! 4. The sword cleaveth the helmet; The race of Hengist is gone— The name of Horsa is no more! Let your blades drink blood like wine: |