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Not thus of old the Norsemen hither came,
Those of eyesight more clear, or of fancy more high, Won by the love of danger or of fame;
Said it rose like an island 'twixt ocean and skyOn every storm-beat cape a shapeless tower
But all of the hulk had a steady opinion Tells of their wars, their conquests, and their power; That 'twas sure a live subject of Neptune's dominion For ne'er for Grecia's vales, nor Latian land, And I think, my Lord Duke, your Grace hardly Was fiercer strife than for this barren strand;
would wish, A race severe-the isle and ocean lords,
To cumber your house, such a kettle of fish. Loved for its own delight the strife of swords; Had your order related to night-caps or hose, With scornful laugh the mortal pang defied,
Or mittens of worsted, there's plenty of those. And blest their gods that they in battle died. Or would you be pleased but to fancy a whale ?
And direct me to send it—by sea or by mail ? Such were the sires of Zetland's simple race, The season, l’m told, is nigh over, but still And still the eye may faint resemblance trace I could get you one fit for the lake at Bowhill. In the blue eye, tall form, proportion fair,
Indeed, as to whales, there 's no need to be thrifty, The limbs athletic, and the long light hair Since one day last fortnight two hundred and fifty, (Such was the mien, as Scald and Minstrel sings, Pursued by seven Orkneymen's boats and no more, Of fair-haird Harold, first of Norway's Kings;) Betwixt Truffness and Luffness were drawn on the But their high deeds to scale these crags confined,
shore ! Their only warfare is with waves and wind.
You'll ask if I saw this same wonderful sight;
I own that I did not, but easily mightWhy should I talk of Mousa's castled coast ? For this mighty shoal of leviathans lay Why of the horrors of the Sumburgh Rost?
On our lee-beam a mile, in the loop of the bay, May not these bald disjointed lines suffice,
And the islesmen of Sanda were all at the spoil, Penn'd while my comrades whirl the rattling dice And flinching (so term it) the blubber to boil ; While down the cabin skylight lessening shine (Ye spirits of lavender, drown the reflection The rays,
and eve is chased with mirth and wine ? That awakes at the thoughts of this odorous dissection.) Imagined, while down Mousa's desert bay
To see this huge marvel full fain would we go, Our well-trimm'd vessel urged her nimble way, But Wilson, the wind, and the current, said no. While to the freshening breeze she lean’d her side, We have now got to Kirkwall, and needs I must stare And bade her bowsprit kiss the foamy tide ?
When I think that in verse I have once call'd it fair;
'Tis a base little borough, both dirty and meanSuch are the lays that Zetland Isles supply; There is nothing to hear, and there's nought to be seen, Drench'd with the drizzly spray and dropping sky, Save achurch, where, of old times, a prelate harangued. Weary and wet, a sea-sick minstrel I.-W. SCOTT. And a palace that's built by an earl that was hang'd.
But, farewell to Kirkwall-aboard we are going, POSTSCRIPTUM.
The anchor's a-peak, and the breezes are blowing;
Our commodore calls all his band to their places, Kirkwall, Orkney, Aug. 13, 1814. And 'tis time to release you-good night to your In respect that your Grace has commission'd a Graces!
Cerses from waberley.
“ The following song, which has been since borrowed (He's not from our clan, though his merits deserve it, by the worshipful author of the famous • History of But springs, I'm inform’d, from the Scotts of Scot- Fryar Bacon,' has been with difficulty deciphered. starvet ;)
It seems to have been sung on occasion of carrying
home the bride." He question’d the folks who beheld it with eyes, But they differ'd confoundedly as to its size.
To the tune of " I have been a Fiddler," ft.
The morrow after a wedding day,
And carrying a bride at home to dwell? of the Border,-and their armorial bearings are different.
And away to Tewin, away, away
The quintain was set, and the garlands were made, He heard the groaning of the oak, 'Tis pity old customs should ever decay;
And donn'd at once his sable cloak, And woe be to him that was horsed on a jade,
As warrior, at the battle cry, For he carried no credit away, away.
Invests him with his panoply:
Then, as the whirlwind nearer press'd,
He 'gan to shake his foamy crest
And bade his surge in thunder speak.
In wild and broken eddies whirl'd,
Flitted that fond ideal world; There was ne'er a lad in all the parish
And, to the shore in tumult tost,
The realms of fairy bliss were lost.
Yet, with a stern delight and strange,
I saw the spirit-stirring change.
As warr'd the wind with wave and wood,
And felt my heart more strongly bound,
Responsive to the lofty sound,
While, joying in the mighty roar, The smith of the town his liquor so took,
I mourn’d that tranquil scene no more. That he was persuaded that the ground look'd blue;
So, on the idle dreams of youth And I dare boldly be sworn on a book,
Breaks the loud trumpet-call of truth, Such smiths as he there's but a few.
Bids each fair vision pass away,
Like landscape on the lake that lay,
As fair, as flitting, and as frail,
For ever dead to fancy's eye
Be each gay form that glided by,
Give place to honour and to arms!
“ On receiving intelligence of his commission as captain of a troop of horse in Colonel Gardiner’s regi
(3.)-DAVIE GELLATLEY'S SONG. ment, his tutor, Mr. Pembroke, picked up about Edward's room some fragments of irregular verse, which “ He (Daft Davie Gellatley,) sung with great ear. he appeared to have composed under the influence of nestness, and not without some taste, a fragment of the agitating feelings occasioned by this sudden page an old Scotch ditty:" being turned up to him in the book of life.”
False love, and hast thou play'd me this Late, when the autumn evening fell
In summer among the flowers ? On Mirkwood-Mere's romantic dell,
I will repay thee back again The lake return’d, in chasten'd gleam,
In winter among the showers. The purple cloud, the golden beam:
Unless again, again, my love, Reflected in the crystal pool,
Unless you turn again; Headland and bank lay fair and cool;
As you with other maidens rove,
I'll smile on other men.
« This is a genuine ancient fragment, with some As if there lay beneath the wave,
alteration in the last two lines.” Secure from trouble, toil, and care, A world than earthly world more fair.
But distant winds began to wake, And roused the Genius of the Lake!
The questioned party replied,-and, like the witch of Thalaba,' still his speech was song.''
THE Knight's to the mountain
Hie away, hie away,
Over bank and over brae,
Where the copsewood is the greenest,
Where the fountains glisten sheenest,
Where the lady-fern grows strongest,
Where the morning dew lies longest,
Where the black-cock sweetest sips it,
Where the fairy latest trips it:
Hie to haunts right seldom seen,
Hie away, hie away.
IN LUCKIE MACLEARY'S TAVERN.
“ In the middle of this din, the Baron repeatedly implored silence; and when at length the instinct of
(6.)-ST. SWITHIN'S CHAIR. polite discipline so far prevailed, that for a moment he obtained it, he hastened to beseech thier attention “ The view of the old tower, or fortalice, introduced
unto a military ariette, which was a particular fa- some family anecdotes and tales of Scottish chivalry, vourite of the Maréchal Duc de Berwick ;' then, imi- which the Baron told with great enthusiasm. The tating, as well as he could, the manner and tone of a projecting peak of an impending crag, which rose near French musquetaire, he immediately commenced," it, had acquired the name of St. Swithin's Chair. It
was the scene of a peculiar superstition, of which Mr.
Rubrick mentioned some curious particulars, which
reminded Waverley of a rhyme quoted by Edgar in
King Lear; and Rose was called upon to sing a little
legend, in which they had been interwoven by some
Qui porte chapeau a plume,
Who, noteless as the race from which he sprung,
Saved others' names, but left his own unsung.
“ The sweetness of her voice, and the simple beauty
strel could have desired, and which his poetry so much “ Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but break wanted.” .11 with what he called a d-d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethrowit, the Piper of Cupar; and, with On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere you boune ye to rest, out wasting more time, struck up—"
Ever beware that your couch be bless'd;
Sign it with cross, and sain it with bead,
Sing the Ave, and say the Creed.
For on Hallow-Mass Eve the Night-Hag will ride,
And all her nine-fold sweeping on by her side,
Whether the wind sing lowly or loud,
The Lady she sate in St. Swithin’s Chair,
The dew of the night has damp'd her hair:
Was the word of her lip and the glance of her eye.
Questions three, when he speaks the spell,
All those idle thoughts and phantasies, Ile may ask, and she must tell.
Devices, dreams, opinions unsound,
Shows, visions, soothsays, and prophecies, The Baron has been with King Robert his liege, And all that feigned is, as leasings, tales, and lies. These three long years in battle and siege ;
Chap. xiii. News are there none of his weal or his woe, And fain the Lady his fate would know.
She shudders and stops as the charm she speaks ;-
(9.)-FLORA MACIVOR'S SONG. The voice of the Demon who haunts the stream?
“ FLORA had exchanged the measured and monotoThe moan of the wind sunk silent and low,
nous recitative of the bard for a lofty and uncommon And the roaring torrent had ceased to flow;
Highland air, which had been a battle-song in former The calm was more dreadful than raging storm,
ages. A few irregular strains introduced a prelude When the cold grey mist brought the ghastly form of a wild and peculiar tone, which harmonized well
with the distant water-fall, and the soft sigh of the Chap. xiii.
evening breeze in the rustling leaves of an aspen which overhung the seat of the fair harpress. The following verses convey but little idea of the feelings with which,
so sung and accompanied, they were heard by Waver(7.)-DAVIE GELLATLEY'S SONG. ley:” “ The next day Edward arose betimes, and in a There is mist on the mountain, and night on the vale, morning walk around the house and its vicinity, came But more dark is the sleep of the sons of the Gael. suddenly upon a small court in front of the dog-kennel, A stranger commanded—it sunk on the land, where his friend Davie was employed about his four- It has frozen each heart, and benumb'd every band ! footed charge. One quick glance of his eye recognized Waverley, when, instantly turning his back, as if he The dirk and the target lie sordid with dust, had not observed him, he began to sing part of an The bloodless claymore is but redden'd with rust; old ballad.”
On the hill or the glen if a gun should appear,
It is only to war with the heath-cock or deer.
The deeds of our sires if our bards should rehearse, Old men's love the longest will last,
Let a blush or a blow be the meed of their verse! And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
Be mute every string, and be hush'd every tone,
That shall bid us remember the fame that is flown. The young man's wrath is like light straw on fire; Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?
But the dark hours of night and of slumber are past, But like red-hot steel is the old man's ire,
The morn on our mountains is dawning at last; And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
Glenaladale's peaks are illumed with the rays,
And the streams of Glenfinnan leap bright in the The young man will brawl at the evening board ;
blaze. Heard ye so merry the little bird sing? But the old man will draw at the dawning the sword, O high-minded Moray !-the exiled—the dear! And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing. In the blush of the dawning the STANDARD uprear !
Wide, wide on the winds of the north let it fly, [The song has allusion to the Baron of Braidwar- Like the sun's latest flash when the tempest is nigh ! dine's personal encounter with Balmawhapple early next morning, after the evening quarrel betwixt the Ye sons of the strong, when that dawning shall break, latter and Waverley.]
Need the harp of the aged remind you to wake ?
That dawn never beam'd on your forefathers' eye,
(8.)-JANET GELLATLEY'S ALLEGED
O sprung from the Kings who in Islay kept state,
“ This anecdote led into a long discussion of,"
True son of Sir Evan, undaunted Lochiel,
“ Tue letter from the Chief contained Flora's lines
on the fate of Captain Wogan, whose enterprising Stern son of Lord Kenneth, high chief of Kintail, character is so well drawn by Clarendon. He had Let the stag in thy standard bound wild in the gale ! originally engaged in the service of the Parliament, but May the race of Clan-Gillian, the fearless and free, had abjured that party upon the execution of Charles Remember Glenlivat, Harlaw, and Dundee ! I.; and upon hearing that the royal standard was set
up by the Earl of Glencairn and General Middleton Let the clan of grey Fingon, whose offspring has given in the Highlands of Scotland, took leave of Charles II., Such heroes to earth, and such martyrs to heaven, who was then at Paris, passed into England, assembled Unite with the race of renown'd Rorri More, a body of cavaliers in the neighbourhood of London, To launch the long galley, and stretch to the oar ! and traversed the kingdom, which had been so long
under domination of the usurper, by marches conHow Mac-Shimei will joy when their chief shall display ducted with such skill, dexterity, and spirit, that he The yew-crested bonnet o'er tresses of grey! safely united his handful of horsemen with the body How the race of wrong d Alpine and murder'd Glencoe of Highlanders then in arms. After several months Shall shout for revenge when they pour on the foe! of desultory warfare, in which Wogan's skill and
courage gained him the highest reputation, he had Ye sons of brown Dermid, who slew the wild boar, the misfortune to be wounded in a dangerous manResume the pure faith of the great Callum-More ! ner, and no surgical assistance being within reach, he Mac-Niel of the Islands, and Moy of the Lake, terminated his short but glorious career.” For honour, for freedom, for vengeance awake! The Verses were inscribed,