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Gu, and to tame thy wandering course,

On thee relenting Heaven bestows Quaff from the fountain at the source;

For honour'd life an honour'd close ;' Approach those masters, o'er whose tomb

And when revolves, in time's sure change, Immortal laurels ever bloom:

The hour of Germany's revenge, Instructive of the feebler bard,

When, breathing fury for her sake,
Still from the grave their voice is heard;

Some new Arminius shall awake,
From them, and from the paths they show'd, Her champion, ere he strike, shall come
Choose honour'd guide and practised road;

To whet his sword on BRUNSWICK's tomb.
Nor ramble on through brake and maze,
With harpers rude of barbarous days.

“ Or of the Red-Cross hero4 teach,

Dauntless in dungeon as on breach : « Or deem'st thou not our later time!

Alike to him the sea, the shore, Yields topic meet for classic rhyme !

The brand, the bridle, or the oar: Hast thou no elegiac verse

Alike to him the war that calls For Brunswick's venerable hearse?

Its votaries to the shatter'd walls, What! not a line, a tear, a sigh,

Which the grim Turk, besmear'd with blood, When valour bleeds for liberty?

Against the Invincible made good; Oh, hero of that glorious time,

Or that, whose thundering voice could wake When, with unrivall'd light sublime,

The silence of the polar lake, Though martial Austria, and though all

When stubborn Russ, and metal'd Swede, The might of Russia, and the Gaul,

On the warp'd wave their death-game Though banded Europe stood ber foes

play'd; The star of Brandenburgh arose !

Or that, where Vengeance and Affright Thou couldst not live to see her beam

Howl'd round the father of the fight, For ever quench'd in Jena's stream.

Who snatch'd, on Alexandria's sand,
Lamented Chief !it was not given

The conqueror's wreath with dying hand.
To thee to change the doom of Heaven,
And crush that dragon in its birth,

Or, if to touch such chord be thine,
Predestined scourge of guilty earth.

Restore the ancient tragic line, Lamented Chief !-not thine the power,

And emulate the notes that wrung To save in that presumptuous hour,

From the wild harp, which silent hung When Prussia hurried to the field,

By silver Avon's holy shore, And snatch'd the spear, but left the shield !

Till twice an hundred years rolld o'er; Valour and skill 'twas thine to try,

When she, the bold Enchantress, came, And, tried in vain, 'twas thine to die.

With fearless hand and heart on flame! Ill had it seem'd thy silver hair

From the pale willow snatch'd the treasure, The last, the bitterest pang to share,

And swept it with a kindred measure, For princedoms reft, and scutcheons riven,

Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove And birthrights to usurpers given;

With Montfort's hate and Basil's love, Thy land's, thy children's wrongs to feel,

Awakening at the inspired strain, And witness woes thou couldst not heal!

Deem'd their own Shakspeare lived again.”

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The general's eye, the pilot's art,
The soldier's arm, the sailor's heart,
Or if to touch such chord be thine," &c.

MS.-“ Dost thou not deem our later day

Yields topic meet for classic lay?
Hast thou no elegiac tone
To join that universal moan,
Which mingled with the battle's yell,
Where venerable Brunswick fell?-
What! not a verse, a tear, a sigh,

When valour bleeds for liberty?"
* MS " For honour'd life an honour'd close-

The boon which falling heroes crave,
A soldier's death, a warrior's gravc,
Or it, with more exulting swell,
Of conquering chiefs thou lov'st to tell,
Viive to the harp an unheard strain,
And sing the triumphs of the main-
Of him the Red-Cross hero teach,
Dauntless on Acre's bloods breach,
And, scorner of tyrannic power,
As dauntless in the Temple's tower:
Alike to him the sea, the shore,
The brand, the bridie, or the oar,

3 “ Scott seems to have communicated fragments of the poem very freely during the whole of its progress. As early as the 22d February 1817, I find Mrs. Hayman acknowledging, in the name of the Princess of Wales, the receipt of a copy of the Introduction to Canto III., in which occurs the tribute to her royal highness's heroic father, mortally wounded the year before at Jena-a tribute so grateful to her feelings that she herself shortly after sent the poet an elegant silver vase as a memorial of her thankfulness. And ahout the same tim» the Marchioness of Abercorn expresses the delight with which both she and her lord had read the generous verses on Piti and Fox in another of those epistles."- Life of Scoil, vol iii. p. 9.

4 Sir Sidney Smith.
6 Sir Ralph Abercromby
6 Joanna Baillie.

Thy friendship thus thy judgment wronging, Then rise those crags, that mountain tower, With praises not to me belonging,

Which charm'd my fancy's wakening hour.? In task more meet for mightiest powers,

Though no broad river swept along, Wouldst thou engage my thriftless hours.

To claim, perchance, heroic song; But say, my Erskine, hast thou weigh'd

Though sigh'd no groves in summer gale, That secret power by all obey'd,

To prompt of love a softer tale; Which warps not less the passive mind,

Though scarce a puny streamlet's speed Its source conceal'd or undefined ;

Claim'd homage from a shepherd's reed; Whether an impulse, that has birth

Yet was poetic impulse given, Soon as the infant wakes on earth,

By the green hill and clear blue heaven. One with our feelings and our powers,

It was a barren scene, and wild, And rather part of us than ours;

Where naked cliffs were rudely piled; Or whether fitlier term’d the sway

But ever and anon between Of habit, form'd in early day?

Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green; Howe'er derived, its force confest

And well the lonely infant knew Rules with despotic sway the breast,

Recesses where the wall-flower grew, And drags us on by viewless chain,

And honey-suckle loved to crawl While taste and reason plead in vain.'

Up the low crag and ruin'd wall. Look east, and ask the Belgian why,

I deem'd such nooks the sweetest shade Beneath Batavia's sultry sky,

The sun in all its round survey'd; He seeks not eager to inhale

And still I thought that shatter'd tower * The freshness of the mountain gale,

The mightiest work of human power ; Content to rear his whiten'd wall

And marvell’d as the aged hind Beside the dank and dull canal ?

With some strange tale bewitch'd my mind, He'll say, from youth he loved to see

Of forayers, who, with headlong force, The white sail gliding by the tree.

Down from that strength had spurr'd their horse, Or see yon weatherbeaten hind,

Their southern rapine to renew, Whose sluggish herds before him wind,

Far in the distant Cheviots blue, Whose tatter'd plaid and rugged cheek

And, home returning, fill’d the hall His northern clime and kindred speak;

With revel, wassel-rout, and brawl.5 Through England's laughing meads he goes, Methought that still with trump and clang, And England's wealth around him flows;

The gateway's broken arches rang; Ask, if it would content him well,

Methought grim features, seam'd with scars, At ease in those gay plains to dwell,

Glared through the window's rusty bars, Where hedge-rows spread a verdant screen,

And ever, by the winter hearth, And spires and forests intervene,

Old tales I heard of woe or mirth, And the neat cottage peeps between ?

Of lovers' slights, of ladies' charms, No ! not for these will he exchange

Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms; His dark Lochaber's boundless range:

Of patriot battles, won of old Not for fair Devon's meads forsake

By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold; Bennevis grey, and Garry's lake.

Of later fields of feud and fight,

When, pouring from their Highland height, Thus while I ape the measure wild

The Scottish clans, in headlong sway, Of tales that charm’d me yet a child,

Had swept the scarlet ranks away. Rude though they be, still with the chime

While stretch'd at length upon the floor, Return the thoughts of early time;

Again I fought each comhat o'er, And feelings, roused in life's first day,

Pebbles and shells, in order laid, Glow in the line, and prompt the lay.

The mimic ranks of war display'd ;

1 “As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath,

Receives the lurking principle of death;
The young disease, that must subdue at length,
Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength:
So, cast and mingled with his very frame,
The Mind's disease, its Ruling Passion came;
Each. vital humour which should feed the whole,
Soon flows to this, in body and in soul;
Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head,
As the mind opens, and its functions spread,
Imagination plies her dangerous art,
And pours it all upon the peccant part.

" Nature its mother, Habit is ity nurse; Wit, Spirit, Faculties, but make it worke:

Reason itself but gives it edge and power;
As Heaven's blest beam turns vinegar more sour," &c.

Pope's Essay on sian-ED
2 MS.-" The lonely hill, the rocky tower,

That caught attention's wakening hour."
3 MS.-" Recesses where the troodbine grew."

4 Smailholm Tower, in Berwickshire, the scene of the
Author's infancy, is situated about two miles from Dryburgh
Abbcy.
5 The two next couplets are not in the MS.
MS. " While still with mimic hosts of sheils,

Again my sport the combat tells-
Onward the Scottish Lion bore,
The scatter'd Southron fied before."

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And onward still the Scottish Lion bore,
And still the scatter'd Soutbron fled before.!

Still, with rain fondness, could I trace,
Anew, each kind familiar face,
That brighten’d at our evening fire!
From the thatch'd mansion's grey-hair'd Sire,
Wise without learning, plain and good,
And sprung of Scotland's gentler blood;
Whose eye, in age, quick, clear, and keen,
Show'd what in youth its glance had been ;
Whose doom discording neighbours sought,
Content with equity unbought;3
To him the venerable Priest,
Our frequent and familiar guest,
Whose life and manners well could paint
Alike the student and the saint;'
Alas! whose speech too oft I broke
With gambol rude and timeless joke:
For I was wayward, bold, and wild,
A self-will'd imp, a grandame's child;
But half a plague, and half a jest,
Was still endured, beloved, caress’d.

Ry glen and streamlet winded still,
Where stunted birches hid the rill.
They might not choose the lowland road,
For the Merse forayers were abroad,
Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey,
Had scarcely fail'd to bar their way.
Oft on the trampling band, from crown
Of some tall cliff, the deer look'd down;
On wing of jet, from his repose
In the deep heath, the black-cock rose;
Sprung from the gorse the timid roe,
Nor waited for the bending bow;
And when the stony path began,
By which the naked peak they wan,
Up flew the snowy ptarmigan.
The noon had long been pass'd before
They gain'd the height of Lammermoor;
Thence winding down the northern way
Before them, at the close of day,
Old Gifford's towers and hamlet lay.7

For me, thus nurtured, dost thou ask
The classic poet's well-conn'd task?
Nay, Erskine, nay-On the wild hill
Let the wild heath-bell flourish still;
Cherish the tulip, prune the vine,
But freely let the woodbine twine,
And leave, untrimm'd the eglantine:
Nay, my friend, nay-Since oft thy praise
Hath given fresh vigour to my lays;
Since oft thy judgment could refine
My flatten'd thought, or cumbrous line;
Still kind, as is thy wont, attend,
And in the minstrel spare the friend.
Though wild as cloud, as stream, as gale,
Flow forth, flow unrestrain'd, my Tale!

II.
No summons calls them to the tower,
To spend the hospitable hour.
To Scotland's camp the Lord was gone;
His cautious dame, in bower alone,
Dreaded her castle to unclose,
So late, to unknown friends or foes.

On through the hamlet as they paced,
Before a porch, whose front was graced
With bush and flagon trimly placed,

Lord Marmion drew his rein:
The village inn seem'd large, though rude ;
Its cheerful fire and hearty food

Might well relieve his train.
Down from their seats the horsemen sprung,
With jingling spurs the court-yard rung;
They bind their horses to the stall,
For forage, food, and firing call,
And various clamour fills the hall:
Weighing the labour with the cost,
Toils everywhere the bustling host.

Harmion.

CANTO THIRD.

III.

The Hostel, or Inn.

1. The livelong day Lord Marmion rode: The mountain path the Palmer show'd,

Soon, by the chimney's merry blaze,
Through the rude hostel might you gaze;
Might see, where, in dark nook aloof,
The rafters of the sooty roof

Bore wealth of winter cheer;

I See notes on The Eve of St. John.

minister of Mertoun, in which parish Smailholm Tower is * Robert Scott of Sandyknows, the grandfather of the Poet. i situated.

3 Upon revising the Poem, it seems proper to mention that 5 MS.-“They might not choose the easier road, the lines,

For many a forayer was abroad."

6 See Notes to “ The Bride of Lammermoor." Waverley " Whose doom discording neighbours sought,

Novels, vols, xiii. and xiv. Content with equity unbought:"

7 The village of Gifford lies about four miles from Haddingbave been unconsciously borrowed from a passage in Dryden's ton: close to it is Yester House, the seat of the Marquis of beautiful epistle to John Driden of Chesterton.—1808. Note Tweeddale, and a little farther up the stream, which descends to Second Edit

from the hills of Lammermoor, are the remains of the old * MS.-" The student, gentleman, and saint."

castle of the family. The reverend gentleman alluded to was Mr. John Martin. 8 See Appendix, Note 2 N.

How pale his cheek, his eye how bright,
Whene'er the firebrand's fickle light

Glances beneath his oowl!
Full on our Lord he sets his eye;
For his best palfrey, would not I

Endure that sullen scowl."

Of sea-fowl dried, and solands store,
And gammons of the tusky boar,

And savoury haunch of deer.
The chimney arch projected wide ;
Above, around it, and beside,

Were tools for housewives' hand; Nor wanted, in that martial day, The implements of Scottish fray,

The buckler, lance, and brand. Beneath its shade, the place of state, On oaken settle Marmion sate, And view'd around the blazing hearth. His followers mix in noisy mirth; Whom with brown ale, in jolly tide, From ancient vessels ranged aside, Full actively their host supplied.

VII. But Marmion, as to chase the awe Which thus had quell’d their hearts, who

saw

The ever-varying fire-light show
That figure stern and face of woe,

Now call’d upon a squire: “ Fitz-Eustace, know'st thou not some lay, To speed the lingering night away?

We slumber by the fire.”

IV. Theirs was the glee of martial breast, And laughter theirs at little jest ; And oft Lord Marmion deign'd to aid, And mingle in the mirth they made; For though, with men of high degree, The proudest of the proud was he, Yet, train’d in camps, he knew the art To win the soldier's hardy heart. They love a captain to obey, Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May; With open hand, and brow as free, Lover of wine and minstrelsy; Ever the first to scale a tower, As venturous in a lady's bower:Such buxom chief shall lead his host From India's fires to Zembla's frost.

VIII. “ So please you,” thus the youth rejoind, “ Our choicest minstrel's left behind. Ill may we hope to please your ear, Accustom'd Constant's strains to hear. The harp full deftly can he strike, And wake the lover's lute alike; To dear Saint Valentine, no thrush Sings livelier from a spring-tide bush, No nightingale her love-lorn tune More sweetly warbles to the moon. Woe to the cause, whate'er it be, Detains from us his melody, Lavish'd on rocks, and billows stern, Or duller monks of Lindisfarne. Now must I venture, as I may, To sing his favourite roundelay.”

V. Resting upon his pilgrim staff,

Right opposite the Palmer stood; Ilis thin dark visage seen but half,

Half hidden by his hood. Still fix'd on Marmion was his look, Which he, who ill such gaze could brook,

Strove by a frown to quell; But not for that, though more than once Full met their stern encountering glance,

The Palmer's visage fell.

IX. A mellow voice Fitz-Eustace had, The air he chose was wild and sad; Such have I heard, in Scottish land, Rise from the busy harvest band, When falls before the mountaineer, On Lowland plains, the ripen'd ear. Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, Now a wild chorus swells the song: Oft have I listen’d, and stood still, As it came soften’d up the hill, And deem'd it the lament of men Who languish'd for their native glen; And thought how sad would be such sound On Susquehana's swampy ground, Kentucky's wood-encumber'd brake, Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain, Recallid fair Scotland's hills again!

VI.
By fits less frequent from the crowd
Was heard the burst of laughter loud;
For still, as squire and archer stared
On that dark face and matted beard,

Their glee and game declined.
All gazed at length in silence drear,
Unbroke, save when in comrade's ear
Some yeoman, wondering in his fear,

Thus whisper'd forth his mind :“ Saint Mary! saw'st thou e'er such sight?

X.

Song. Where shali the lover rest,

Whom the fates sever

1 MS. --" Pull met their eyes' encountering glance."

From his true maiden's breast,

Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high,

Sounds the far billow, Where early violets die,

Under the willow.

And rested with his head a space,

Reclining on his hand. His thoughts I scan not; but I ween, That, could their import have been seer, The meanest groom in all the hall, That e'er tied courser to a stall, Would scarce have wish'd to he their prey, For Lutterward and Fontenaye.

CHORUS.

Eleu loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillow.

There, through the summer day,

Cool streams are laving; There, while the tempests sway,

Scarce are boughs waving; There, thy rest shalt thou take,

Parted for ever, Never again to wake, Vever, 0 never!

XIII. High minds, of native pride and force, Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse! Fear, for their scourge, mean villains have, Thou art the torturer of the brave! Yet fatal strength they boast to steel Their minds to bear the wounds they feel, Even while they writhe beneath the smart Of civil conflict in the heart. For soon Lord Marmion raised his head, And, smiling, to Fitz-Eustace said, “ Is it not strange, that, as ye sung, Seem'd in mine ear a death-peal rung, Such as in nunneries they toll For some departing sister's soul?

Say, what may this portend?”* Then first the Palmer silence broke, (The livelong day he had not spoke,)

“ The death of a dear friend.”

CHORUS. Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never!

XI. Where shall the traitor rest,

He, the deceiver, Who could win maiden's breast,

Ruin, and leave her? In the lost battle,

Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle

With groans of the dying.

CHORUS.

Eleu loro, &c. There shall he be lying.

Her wing shall the eagle flap

O'er the false-hearted; His warm blood the wolf shall lap,

Ere life be parted. Shame and dishonour sit

By his grave ever; Blessing shall hallow it,

Never, O never!

XIV.
Marmion, whose steady heart and eye
Ne'er changed in worst extremity;
Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook,
Even from his King, a haughty look ;'
Whose accent of command controllid,
In camps, the boldest of the bold-
Thought, look, and utterance fail'd him now,
Fall’n was his glance, and flush'd his brow.

For either in the tone,
Or something in the Palmer's look,
So full upon his conscience strook,

That answer he found none.
Thus oft it haps, that when within
They shrink at sense of secret sin,

A feather daunts the brave;
A fool's wild speech confounds the wise.
And proudest princes vail their eyes

Before their meanest slave.

CHORUS.

Eleu loro, &c. Never, 0 never !

XII. It ceased, the melancholy sound; And silence sunk on all around. The air was sad; but sadder still

It fell on Marmion's ear, And plain’d as if disgrace and ill,

And shameful death, were near. He drew his mantle past his face,

Between it and the band,

XV. Well might he falter !-By his aid Was Constance Beverley betray'}. Not that he augur'd of the doom, Which on the living closed the tomb: But, tired to hear the desperate maids Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid;

| Seo Appendix, Note 2 0.
8 MS." Marmion, whose pride

Whose haughty soul }could never brook

Even from his King, a scornful look." MS." But tired to hear the furious mall."

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