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What poet's voice is smother'd here in dust Till waked to join the chorus of the just,

Lo! one brief line an answer sad supplies,

Honour'd, beloved, and mourn'd, here SEWARD lies! Her worth, her warmth of heart, let friendship say,Go seek her genius in her living lay.

Prologue

TO MISS BAILLIE'S PLAY OF THE FAMILY LEGEND.2

1809.

'Tis sweet to hear expiring Summer's sigh,
Through forests tinged with russet, wail and die;
"Tis sweet and sad the latest notes to hear
Of distant music, dying on the ear;
But far more sadly sweet, on foreign strand,
We list the legends of our native land,
Link'd as they come with every tender tie,
Memorials dear of youth and infancy.

Chief, thy wild tales, romantic Caledon, Wake keen remembrance in each hardy son. Whether on India's burning coasts he toil, Or till Acadia's 3 winter-fetter'd soil,

He hears with throbbing heart and moisten'd eyes, And, as he hears, what dear illusions rise!

It opens on his soul his native dell,

The woods wild waving, and the water's swell; Tradition's theme, the tower that threats the plain,

The mossy cairn that hides the hero slain;

The cot, beneath whose simple porch were told,

By grey-hair'd patriarch, the tales of old,

The infant group, that hush'd their sports the while,
And the dear maid who listen'd with a smile.
The wanderer, while the vision warms his brain,
Is denizen of Scotland once again.

Are such keen feelings to the crowd confined,
And sleep they in the Poet's gifted mind?
Oh no! For She, within whose mighty page
Each tyrant Passion shows his woe and rage,
Has felt the wizard influence they inspire,
And to your own traditions tuned her lyre.
Yourselves shall judge-whoe'er has raised the sail
By Mull's dark coast, has heard this evening's tale.
The plaided boatman, resting on his oar,
Points to the fatal rock amid the roar

Of whitening waves, and tells whate'er to-night
Our humble stage shall offer to your sight;

This prologue was spoken on that occasion by the Author's friend, Mr. Daniel Terry.

3 Acadia, or Nova Scotia.

Proudly preferr'd that first our efforts give
Scenes glowing from her pen to breathe and live;
More proudly yet, should Caledon approve
The filial token of a Daughter's love.

The Poacher.

WRITTEN IN IMITATION OF CRABBE, AND PUBLISHED
IN THE EDINBURGH ANNUAL REGISTER OF 1809.1
WELCOME, grave Stranger, to our green retreats,
Where health with exercise and freedom meets!
Thrice welcome, Sage, whose philosophic plan
By nature's limits metes the rights of man;
Generous as he, who now for freedom bawls,
Now gives full value for true Indian shawls:
O'er court, o'er customhouse, his shoe who flings,
Now bilks excisemen, and now bullies kings.
Like his, I ween, thy comprehensive mind
Holds laws as mouse-traps baited for mankind:
Thine eye, applausive, each sly vermin sees,
That baulks the snare, yet battens on the cheese;
Thine ear has heard, with scorn instead of awe,
Our buckskinn'd justices expound the law,
Wire-draw the acts that fix for wires the pain,
And for the netted partridge noose the swain;
And thy vindictive arm would fain have broke
The last light fetter of the feudal yoke,
To give the denizens of wood and wild,
Nature's free race, to each her free-born child.
Hence hast thou mark'd, with grief, fair London's

race,

Mock'd with the boon of one poor Easter chase,
And long'd to send them forth as free as when
Pour'd o'er Chantilly the Parisian train,
When musket, pistol, blunderbuss, combined,
And scarce the field-pieces were left behind!

A squadron's charge each leveret's heart dismay'd
On every covey fired a bold brigade;

La Douce Humanité approved the sport,

For great the alarm indeed, yet small the hurt;

Shouts patriotic solemnized the day,
And Seine re-echo'd Vive la Liberté !
But mad Citoyen, meek Monsieur again,
With some few added links resumes his chain.
Then, since such scenes to France no more are known,
Come, view with me a hero of thine own!
One, whose free actions vindicate the cause
Of silvan liberty o'er feudal laws.

Seek we yon glades, where the proud oak o'ertops Wide-waving seas of birch and hazel copse,

1 See Life of Scott, vol. iii., p. 329.

2 Such is the law in the New Forest, Hampshire, tending greatly to increase the various settlements of thieves, smugglers, and deer-stealers, who infest it. In the forest courts the presiding judge wears as a badge of office an antique stir

Leaving between deserted isles of land,
Where stunted heath is patch'd with ruddy sand;
And lonely on the waste the yew is seen,

Or straggling hollies spread a brighter green.
Here, little worn, and winding dark and steep,
Our scarce mark'd path descends yon dingle deep:
Follow-but heedful, cautious of a trip,-

In earthly mire philosophy may slip.

Step slow and wary o'er that swampy stream,
Till, guided by the charcoal's smothering steam,
We reach the frail yet barricaded door
Of hovel form'd for poorest of the poor;
No hearth the fire, no vent the smoke receives,
The walls are wattles, and the covering leaves;
For, if such hut, our forest statutes say,
Rise in the progress of one night and day,
(Though placed where still the Conqueror's hests

o'erawe,

And his son's stirrup shines the badge of law,) The builder claims the unenviable boon,

To tenant dwelling, framed as slight and soon As wigwam wild, that shrouds the native frore On the bleak coast of frost-barr'd Labrador.2

Approach, and through the unlatticed window

peep

Nay, shrink not back, the inmate is asleep;
Sunk 'mid yon sordid blankets, till the sun
Stoop to the west, the plunderer's toils are done.
Loaded and primed, and prompt for desperate
hand,

Rifle and fowling-piece beside him stand;
While round the hut are in disorder laid
The tools and booty of his lawless trade;
For force or fraud, resistance or escape,
The crow, the saw, the bludgeon, and the crape.
His pilfer'd powder in yon nook he hoards,
And the filch'd lead the church's roof affords-
(Hence shall the rector's congregation fret,
That while his sermon's dry his walls are wet.)
The fish-spear barb'd, the sweeping net are there,
Doe-hides, and pheasant plumes, and skins of hare,
Cordage for toils, and wiring for the snare.
Barter'd for game from chase or warren won,

Yon cask holds moonlight, run when moon was none;

And late-snatch'd spoils lie stow'd in hutch apart,
To wait the associate higgler's evening cart.

Look on his pallet foul, and mark his rest: What scenes perturb'd are acting in his breast! His sable brow is wet and wrung with pain, And his dilated nostril toils in vain; For short and scant the breath each effort draws, And 'twixt each effort Nature claims a pause.

rup, said to have been that of William Rufus. See Mr. William Rose's spirited poem, entitled "The Red King,” "To the bleak coast of savage Labrador."-FALCONER. 3 A cant term for smuggled spirits.

Beyond the loose and sable neckcloth stretch'd,
His sinewy throat seems by convulsion twitch'd,
While the tongue falters, as to utterance loth,
Sounds of dire import-watchword, threat, and oath.
Though, stupified by toil, and drugg'd with gin,
The body sleep, the restless guest within
Now plies on wood and wold his lawless trade,
Now in the fangs of justice wakes dismay'd.—

"Was that wild start of terror and despair, Those bursting eyeballs, and that wilder'd air, Signs of compunction for a murder'd hare? Do the locks bristle and the eyebrows arch, For grouse or partridge massacred in March?"

No, scoffer, no! Attend, and mark with awe,
There is no wicket in the gate of law!
He, that would e'er so lightly set ajar

That awful portal, must undo each bar:
Tempting occasion, habit, passion, pride,

The bittern's sullen shout the sedges shook!
The waning moon, with storm-presaging gleam,
Now gave and now withheld her doubtful beam;
The old Oak stoop'd his arms, then flung them high,
Bellowing and groaning to the troubled sky--
"Twas then, that, couch'd amid the brushwood sere,
In Malwood-walk young Mansell watch'd the deer:
The fattest buck received his deadly shot-
The watchful keeper heard, and sought the spot.
Stout were their hearts, and stubborn was their strife,
O'erpower'd at length the Outlaw drew his knife.
Next morn a corpse was found upon the fell-
The rest his waking agony may tell!

Song.

Oн, say not, my love, with that mortified air, That your spring-time of pleasure is flown,

Will join to storm the breach, and force the barrier Nor bid me to maids that are younger repair,

wide.

That ruffian, whom true men avoid and dread, Whom bruisers, poachers, smugglers, call Black Ned, Was Edward Mansell once;-the lightest heart, That ever play'd on holiday his part! The leader he in every Christmas game, The harvest-feast grew blither when he came, And liveliest on the chords the bow did glance, When Edward named the tune and led the dance. Kind was his heart, his passions quick and strong, Hearty his laugh, and jovial was his song; And if he loved a gun, his father swore, ""Twas but a trick of youth would soon be o'er, Himself had done the same some thirty years before."

But he whose humours spurn law's awful yoke, Must herd with those by whom law's bonds are broke, The common dread of justice soon allies The clown, who robs the warren, or excise, With sterner felons train'd to act more dread, Even with the wretch by whom his fellow bled. Then, as in plagues the foul contagions pass, Leavening and festering the corrupted mass,Guilt leagues with guilt, while mutual motives draw, Their hope impunity, their fear the law; Their foes, their friends, their rendezvous the same, Till the revenue baulk'd, or pilfer'd game, Flesh the young culprit, and example leads To darker villany, and direr deeds.

Wild howl'd the wind the forest glades along, And oft the owl renew'd her dismal song; Around the spot where erst he felt the wound, Red William's spectre walk'd his midnight round. When o'er the swamp he cast his blighting look, From the green marshes of the stagnant brook

1 This song was written shortly after the battle of Badayos, (April, 1812,) for a Yeomanry Cavalry dinner. It was first

For those raptures that still are thine own.

Though April his temples may wreathe with the vine, Its tendrils in infancy curl'd,

"Tis the ardour of August matures us the wine, Whose life-blood enlivens the world.

Though thy form, that was fashion'd as light as a fay's,

Has assumed a proportion more round, And thy glance, that was bright as a falcon's at gaze Looks soberly now on the ground,—

Enough, after absence to meet me again,
Thy steps still with ecstasy move;
Enough, that those dear sober glances retain
For me the kind language of love.

The Bold Dragoon;1

OR,

THE PLAIN OF BADAJOS.

1812.

'TWAS a Maréchal of France, and he fain would ho

nour gain,

And he long'd to take a passing glance at Portugal from Spain;

With his flying guns this gallant gay,
And boasted corps d'armée-

O he fear'd not our dragoons, with their long swords, boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

printed in Mr. George Thomson's Collection of Select Melodies, and stands in vol. vi. of the last edition of that work.

To Campo Mayor come, he had quietly sat down,
Just a fricassee to pick, while his soldiers sack'd the
town,

When, 'twas peste! morbleu! mon General,
Hear the English bugle-call!

King William III. in Scotland. In the August preceding, a proclamation had been issued, offering an indemnity to such insurgents as should take the oaths to the King and Queen, on or before the last day of December; and the chiefs of such tribes as had been

Aud behold the light dragoons, with their long swords, in arms for James, soon after took advantage of the

boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

Right about went horse and foot, artillery and all, And, as the devil leaves a house, they tumbled through the wall;1

They took no time to seek the door,

But, best foot set before

proclamation. But Macdonald of Glencoe was prevented by accident, rather than by design, from tendering his submission within the limited time. In the end of December he went to Colonel Hill, who commanded the garrison in Fort-William, to take the oaths of allegiance to the government; and the latter having furnished him with a letter to Sir Colin Campbell, sheriff of the county of Argyll, directed him to

O they ran from our dragoons, with their long swords, repair immediately to Inverary, to make his submisboldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

sion in a legal manner before that magistrate. But the way to Inverary lay through almost impassable mountains, the season was extremely rigorous, and

Those valiant men of France they had scarcely fled a the whole country was covered with a deep snow. So mile, eager, however, was Macdonald to take the oaths beWhen on their flank there sous'd at once the British fore the limited time should expire, that, though the rank and file;

For Long, De Grey, and Otway, then

Ne'er minded one to ten,

road lay within half a mile of his own house, he stopped not to visit his family, and, after various obstructions, arrived at Inverary. The time had elapsed, and

But came on like light dragoons, with their long swords, the sheriff hesitated to receive his submission; but boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

Macdonald prevailed by his importunities, and even tears, in inducing that functionary to administer to him the oath of allegiance, and to certify the cause of

wards Earl of Stair, being in attendance upon Wil

Three hundred British lads they made three thousand his delay. At this time Sir John Dalrymple, afterreel, Their hearts were made of English oak, their swords liam as Secretary of State for Scotland, took advanof Sheffield steel,

Their horses were in Yorkshire bred,

And Beresford them led;

tage of Macdonald's neglecting to take the oath within the time prescribed, and procured from the king a warrant of military execution against that chief and

So huzza for brave dragoons, with their long swords, his whole clan. This was done at the instigation of boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

the Earl of Breadalbane, whose lands the Glencoe men had plundered, and whose treachery to government in negotiating with the Highland clans, Mac

Then here's a health to Wellington, to Beresford, to donald himself had exposed. The King was accordLong,

ingly persuaded that Glencoe was the main obstacle And a single word of Bonaparte before I close my song: to the pacification of the Highlands; and the fact of The eagles that to fight he brings Should serve his men with wings,

the unfortunate chief's submission having been concealed, the sanguinary orders for proceeding to mili

When they meet the bold dragoons, with their long tary execution against his clan were in consequence

swords, boldly riding,

Whack, fal de ral, &c.

On the Massacre of Glencoe.

1814.

"In the beginning of the year 1692, an action of unexampled barbarity disgraced the government of

In their hasty evacuation of Campo Mayor, the French

obtained. The warrant was both signed and countersigned by the King's own hand, and the Secretary urged the officers who commanded in the Highlands to execute their orders with the utmost rigour. Campbell of Glenlyon, a captain in Argyle's regiment, and two subalterns, were ordered to repair to Glencoe on the first of February with a hundred and twenty men. Campbell, being uncle to young Macdonald's wife, was received by the father with all manner of friendship and hospitality. The men were lodged at free quarters in the houses of his tenants,

and received the kindest entertainment. Till the 13th of the month the troops lived in the utmost har

pulled down a part of the rampart, and marched out over the mony and familiarity with the people; and on the very

glacis.

2 First published in Thomson's Select Melodies, 1814.

night of the massacre the officers passed the evening at cards in Macdonald's house. In the night, Lieu

tenant Lindsay, with a party of soldiers, called in a friendly manner at his door, and was instantly admitted. Macdonald, while in the act of rising to receive his guest, was shot dead through the back with two bullets. His wife had already dressed; but she was stripped naked by the soldiers, who tore the rings off her fingers with their teeth. The slaughter now became general, and neither age nor infirmity was spared. Some women, in defending their children, were killed; boys imploring mercy, were shot dead by officers on whose knees they hung. In one place nine persons, as they sat enjoying themselves at table, were butchered by the soldiers. In Inverriggon, Campbell's own quarters, nine men were first bound by the soldiers, and then shot at intervals, one by one. Nearly forty persons were massacred by the troops; and several who fled to the mountains perished by famine and the inclemency of the season. Those who escaped owed their lives to a tempestuous night. Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton, who had received the charge of the execution from Dalrymple, was on his march with four hundred men, to guard all the passes from the valley of Glencoe; but he was obliged to stop by the severity of the weather, which proved the safety of the unfortunate clan. Next day he entered the valley, laid the houses in ashes, and carried away the cattle and spoil, which were divided among the officers and soldiers."-Article "BRITAIN;" Encyc. Britannica-New Edition.

And gave the host's kind breast to feel
Meed for his hospitality!

The friendly hearth which warm'd that hand,
At midnight arm'd it with the brand,
That bade destruction's flames expand
Their red and fearful blazonry.

"Then woman's shriek was heard in vain, Nor infancy's unpitied plain, More than the warrior's groan, could gain

Respite from ruthless butchery!

The winter wind that whistled shrill,
The snows that night that cloked the hill,
Though wild and pitiless, had still

Far more than Southern clemency.

"Long have my harp's best notes been gone, Few are its strings, and faint their tone, They can but sound in desert lone

Their grey-hair'd master's misery. Were each grey hair a minstrel string, Each chord should imprecations fling, Till startled Scotland loud should ring,

'Revenge for blood and treachery!""

For a' that an' a' that.'

A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNE.

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