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"O good Saint Thomas, hear," he pray'd, "my patron It was the noble Moringer to climb the hill beSaint art thou, gan,

man;

A traitor robs me of my land even while I pay my And stood before the bolted gate a woe and weary vow! My wife he brings to infamy that was so pure of "Now help me, every saint in heaven that can compassion take,

name,

And I am far in foreign land, and must endure the To gain the entrance of my hall this woful match to shame." break."

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It was the good Saint Thomas, then, who heard his His very knock it sounded sad, his call was sad and pilgrim's prayer, slow, And sent a sleep so deep and dead that it o'erpower'd For heart and head, and voice and hand, were heavy his care; all with woe; He waked in fair Bohemian land outstretch'd beside And to the warder thus he spoke; "Friend, to thy a rill, Lady say, High on the right a castle stood, low on the left a A pilgrim from Saint Thomas-land craves harbour mill.

for a day.

XIX.

XXV.

The Moringer he started up as one from spell un

"I've wander'd many a weary step, my strength is wellnigh done,

bound, And dizzy with surprise and joy gazed wildly all And if she turn me from her gate I'll see no morrow's around; sun; "I know my fathers' ancient towers, the mill, the I pray, for sweet Saint Thomas' sake, a pilgrim's bed stream I know, and dole, Now blessed be my patron Saint who cheer'd his And for the sake of Moringer's, her once-loved huspilgrim's woe!

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XX.

band's soul."

XXVI.

He leant upon his pilgrim staff, and to the mill he It was the stalwart warder then he came his dame drew, before, So alter'd was his goodly form that none their master "A pilgrim, worn and travel-toil'd, stands at the knew ; castle-door; The Baron to the miller said, "Good friend, for And prays, for sweet Saint Thomas' sake, for harbour charity, and for dole, Tell a poor palmer in your land what tidings may And for the sake of Moringer, thy noble husband's there be?"

soul."

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The miller answered him again, "He knew of little The Lady's gentle heart was moved, "Do up the gate," she said,

news,

Save that the Lady of the land did a new bridegroom" And bid the wanderer welcome be to banquet and choose; to bed; Her husband died in distant land, such is the constant And since he names my husband's name, so that he word, lists to stay, His death sits heavy on our souls, he was a worthy These towers shall be his harbourage a twelvemonth Lord. and a day."

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Of him I held the little mill which wins me living It was the stalwart warder then undid the portal free, broad, God rest the Baron in his grave, he still was kind to It was the noble Moringer that o'er the threshold me! strode;

And when Saint Martin's tide comes round, and "And have thou thanks, kind heaven," he said, millers take their toll, "though from a man of sin,

The priest that prays for Moringer shall have both That the true lord stands here once more his castlecope and stole."

gate within."

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It was the noble Moringer that dropp'd amid the wine He kneel'd before the Moringer, and down his wea A bridal ring of burning gold so costly and so fine:

pon threw ;

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"O father, see yonder! see yonder!" ne says;
66 My boy, upon what doest thou fearfully gaze !"—

"Then take, my liege, thy vassal's sword, and take "O, 'tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud. thy vassal's head."

XLII.

The noble Moringer he smiled, and then aloud did say, "He gathers wisdom that hath roam'd seven twelvemonths and a day;

"No, my son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud.”

(The Erl-King speaks.)

"O come and go with me, thou loveliest child; By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled; My mother keeps for thee full many a fair toy,

My daughter now hath fifteen years, fame speaks her And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy." sweet and fair,

I give her for the bride you lose, and name her for "O, father, my father, and did you not hear my heir.

XLIII.

"The young bridegroom hath youthful bride, the old bridegroom the old,

The Erl-King whisper so low in my ear?”—
"Be still, my heart's darling-my child, be at ease;
It was but the wild blast as it sung thro' the trees.”
Erl-King.

Whose faith was kept till term and tide so punctually "O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy?
were told;
My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy;
But blessings on the warder kind that oped my She shall bear thee so lightly thro' wet and thro' wild,

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Lyrical and Miscellaneous Pieces.

IN THE ORDER OF THEIR COMPOSITION OR PUBLICATION.

Jubenile Lines.

FROM VIRGIL.

1782.-ÆTAT. 11.

SCOTT's autobiography tells us that his translations in verse from Horace and Virgil were often approved by Dr. Adams, [Rector of the High School, Edinburgh.] One of these little pieces, written in a weak boyish scrawl, within pencilled marks still visible, had been carefully preserved by his mother; it was found folded up in a cover, inscribed by the old lady "My Walter's first lines, 1782."-LOCKHART, Life of Scott, vol. i., p. 129.

In awful ruins Etna thunders nigh,
And sends in pitchy whirlwinds to the sky
Black clouds of smoke, which, still as they aspire,
From their dark sides there bursts the glowing fire;
At other times huge balls of fire are toss'd,
That lick the stars, and in the smoke are lost:
Sometimes the mount, with vast convulsions torn,
Emits huge rocks, which instantly are borne
With loud explosions to the starry skies,
The stones made liquid as the huge mass flies,
Then back again with greater weight recoils,
While Ætna thundering from the bottom boils.

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On a Thunder Storm.

1783.-T. 12.

The Violet.

1797.

"IN Scott's Introduction to the Lay, he alludes to an original effusion of these schoolboy days,' prompted by a thunder-storm, which he says was Ir appears from the Life of Scott, vol. i., p. 333, that much approved of, until a malevolent critic sprung up these lines, first published in the English Minstrelsy

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1 "It must, I think, be allowed that these lines, though of the class to which the poet himself modestly ascribes them, and not to be compared with the efforts of Pope, still less of

Cowley at the same period, show, nevertheless, praiseworthy dexterity for a boy of twelve."--Life of Scott, vol. i., p. 131.

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