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Hie to haunts right seldom seen,
Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green,
Over bank and over brae, “ In the middle of this din, the Baron repeatedly
Hie away, hie away. implored silence; and when at length the instinct
Chap. xü. of polite discipline so far prevailed, that for a moment he obtained it, he hastened to beseech their attention ‘unto a military ariette, which was a particular favorite of the Maréchal Duc de Berwick; then, imitating, as well as he could, the
(6.)—ST. SWITHIN'S CHAIR. manner and tone of a French musquetaire, he immediately commenced,"
“The view of the old tower, or fortalioe, intro
duced some family anecdotes and tales of Scottish Mon cœur volage, dit-elle,
chivalry, which the Baron told with great enthuN'est pas pour vous, garçon, Est pour un homme de guerre,
siasm. The projecting peak of an impending crag,
which rose near it, had acquired the name of St. Qui a barbe au menton.
Swithin's Chair. It was the scene of a peculiar Lon, Lon, Laridon.
superstition, of which Mr. Rubrick mentioned some Qui porte chapeau a plume,
curious particulars, which reminded Waverley of a Soulier a rouge talon,
rhyme quoted by Edgar in King Lear; and Rose Qui joue de la flute,
was called upon to sing a little legend, in which
they had been interwoven by some village poet, Aussi de violon. Lon, Lon, Laridon.
Who, noteless as the race from which he sprung,
Saved others' names, but left his own unsung. “ Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but break
“The sweetness of her voice, and the simple in with what he called a d-d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethrowit, the Piper of Cupar; the minstrel could have desired, and which his
beauty of her music, gave all the advantage which and, without wasting more time, struck up,”
poetry so much wanted.” It's up Glenbarchan's braes I gaed,
On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere you boune ye to rest, And o'er the bent of Killiebraid,
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 strap him on to my lunzie string,
And all her nine-fold sweeping on by her side,
Whether the wind sing lowly or loud,
Sailing through moonshine or swath'd in the
The Baron has been with King Robert his
(8.)-JANET GELLATLEY'S ALLEGED
WITCHCRAFT. “This anecdote led into a long discussion of,"
She shudders and stops as the charm she
All those idle thoughts and phantasies,
Devices, dreams, opinions unsound,
The moan of the wind sunk silent and low,
(9.)-FLORA MACIVOR'S SONG.
"FLORA had exchanged the measured and moWhen the cold gray mist brought the ghastly notonous recitative of the bard for a lofty and form!
uncommon Highland air, which had been a battle
song in former ages. A few irregular strains inChap. xiii.
troduced a prelude of wild and peculiar tone, which harmonized well with the distant waterfall, and the soft sigh of the evening breeze in the rustling leaves of an aspen which overhung
the seat of the fair harpress. The following verses (7.)-DAVIE GELLATLEY'S SONG.
convey but little idea of the feelings with which,
so sung and accompanied, they were heard by “The next day Edward arose betimes, and in a Waverley:" morning walk around the house and its vicinity, came suddenly upon a small court in front of the There is mist on the mountain, and night on the dog-kennel, where his friend Davie was employed vale, about his four-footed charge. One quick glance But more dark is the sleep of the sons of the Gael of his eye recognized Waverley, when, instantly A stranger commanded—it sunk on the land, turning his back, as if he had not observed him, It has frozen each heart, and benumb'd every he began to sing part of an old ballad.”
Young men will love thee more fair and more The dirk and the target lie sordid with dust,
The bloodless claymore is but redden'd with rust; Heard ye 80 merry the little bird sing ?
On the hill or the glen if a gun should appear, Old men's love the longest will last,
It is only to war with the heath-cock or deer. And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
The deeds of our sires if our bards should reThe young man's wrath is like light straw on hearse, fire;
Let a blush or a blow be the meed of their verse! Heard ye 80 merry the little bird sing?
Be mute every string, and be hush'd every tone, But like red-hot steel is the old man's ire, That shall bid us remember the fame that is flown And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
But the dark hours of night and of slumber are The young man will brawl at the evening board ; past, Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?
The morn on our mountains is dawning at last; But the old man will draw at the dawning the Glenaladale's peaks are illumed with the rays, sword,
And the streams of Glenfinnan leap bright in the And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
[This song has allusion to the Baron of Braid- 0 high-minded Moray !—the exiled—the dear!wardine's personal encounter with Balmawhapple In the blush of the dawning the STANDARD uprear ! early next morning, after the evening quarrel be- wide, wide on the winds of the north let it fly, twixt the latter and Waverley.]
Like the sun's latest flash when the tempest in Chap. xiv.
Ye sons of the strong, when that dawning shall Be the brand of each chieftain like Fin’s in his break,
ire ! Need the harp of the aged remind you to wake! May the blood through his veins flow like currents That dawn never beam'd on your forefathers' eye, of fire ! But it roused each high chieftain to vanquish or Burst the base foreign yoke as your sires did of die.
Or die, like your sires, and endure it no more! O sprung from the Kings who in Italy kept state, Proud chiefs of Clan-Ranald, Glengary, and Sleat! “As Flora concluded her song, Fergus stood beCombine like three streams from one mountain of fore them, and immediately commenced with a snow,
theatrical air," And resistless in union rush down on the foe!
O Lady of the desert, hail! True son of Sir Evan, undaunted Lochiel,
That lovest the harping of the Gael, Place thy targe on thy shoulder and burnish thy Through fair and fertile regions borne, steel!
Where never yet grew grass or corn. Rough Keppoch, give breath to thy bugle's bold swell,
“But English poetry will never succeed under Till far Coryarrick resound to the knell !
the influence of a Highland Helicon - Allons,
courage" Stern son of Lord Kenneth, high chief of Kintail, Let the stag in thy standard bound wild in the
O vous, qui buvez à tasse pleine, gale!
A cette heureuse fontaine, May the race of Clan-Gillian, the fearless and free,
Où on ne voit sur le rivage Remember Glenlivat, Harlaw, and Dundee !
Que quelques vilains troupeaux,
Suivis de nymphes de village, Let the clan of gray Fingon, whose offspring has
Qui les escortent sans sabotsgiven Such heroes to earth, and such martyrs to heaven,
Chap. xxii. Unite with the race of renown'd Rorri More, To launch the long galley, and stretch to the oar !
How Mac-Shimei will joy when their chief shall display
(10.)LINES ON CAPTAIN WOGAN. The yew-crested bonnet o'er tresses of gray! How the race of wrong'd Alpine and murder'd “The letter from the Chief contained Flora's Glencoe
lines on the fate of Captain Wogan, whose enterShall shout for revenge when they pour on the foe! | prising character is so well drawn by Clarendon,
He had originally engaged in the service of the Ye sons of brown Dermid, who slew the wild Parliament, but had abjured that party upon the boar,
execution of Charles I.; and upon hearing that Resume the pure faith of the great Callum-More ! the royal standard was set up by the Earl of Mac-Niel of the Islands, and Moy of the Lake, Glencairn and General Middleton in the HighFor honor, for freedom, for vengeance awake! lands of Scotland, took leave of Charles II., who
was then at Paris, passed into England, assembled Awake on your hills, on your islands awake, a body of cavaliers in the neighborhood of LonBrave sons of the mountain, the frith, and the don, and traversed the kingdom, which had been lake!
so long under domination of the usurper, by 'Tis the bugle—but not for the chase is the call; marches conducted with such skill, dexterity, and 'Tis the pibroch's shrill summons—but not to the spirit, that he safely united his handful of horseball.
men with the body of Highlanders then in arms.
After several months of desultory warfare, in 'Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death, which Wogan's skill and courage gained him the When the banners are blazing on mountain and highest reputation, he had the misfortune to be heath;
wounded in a dangerous manner, and no surgical They call to the dirk, the claymore, and the targe, assistance being within reach, he terminated his To the march and the muster, the line and the short but glorious career.” charge.
The Verses were inscribed,
««Who are dead ? said Waverley, forgetting FAREWELL to Mackenneth, great Earl of the North, the incapacity of Davie to hold any connected dis- The Lord of Lochcarron, Glenshiel, and Seaforth;
To the Chieftain this morning his course who began, "Baron-and Baillie—and Sanders Sanderson Launching forth on the billows his bark like a swan -and Lady Rose, that sang sae sweet-A' dead For a far foreign land he has hoisted his sail, and gane-dead and gane (said Davie) Farewell to Mackenzie, High Chief of Kintail !
O swift be the galley, and hardy her crew, The glow of the genius they could not oppose;
Might match with Mackenzie, High Chief of KinThough the whirlwind should rise, and the ocean
tail ? should boil : On the brave vessel's gunnel I drank his bonail, Thy sons rose around thee in light and in love, And farewell to Mackenzie, High Chief of Kintail ! | All a father could hope, all a friend could approve;
What 'vails it the tale of thy sorrows to tell,Awake in thy chamber, thou sweet southland gale! In the spring-time of youth and of promise they Like the sighs of his people, breathe soft on his sail ; fell ! Be prolong'd as regret, that his vassals must know, of the line of Fitzgerald remains not a male, Be fair as their faith, and sincere as their woe: To bear the proud me of the Chief of Kintail. Be so soft, and so fair, and so faithful, sweet gale, Wafting onward Mackenzie, High Chief of Kintail ! And thou, gentle Dame, who must bear, to thy grief,
For thy clan and thy country the cares of a Chief, Be his pilot experienced, and trusty, and wise, Whom brief rolling moons in six changes have left, To measure the seas and to study the skies : Of thy husband, and father, and brethren bereft, May he hoist all his canvas from streamer to deck, To thine ear of affection, how sad is the hail, But 01 crowd it higher when wafting him back- That salutes thee the Heir of the line of Kintail ! Till the cliffs of Skooroora, and Conan’s glad vale, Shall welcome Mackenzie, High Chief of Kintail !
UV a r- Song of Lachlan,
HIGH CHIEF OF MACLEAN.
IMITATION OF THE PRECEDING SONG.:
FROM THE GAELIC.
So sung the old Bard, in the grief of his heart,
1815. Nor the voice of the song, nor the harp of the bard; Or its strings are but waked by the stern winter This song appears to be imperfect, or, at least, like gale,
many of the early Gaelic poems, makes a rapid As they mourn for Mackenzie, last Chief of Kintail. transition from one subject to another ; from the
situation, namely, of one of the daughters of the From the far Southland Border a Minstrel came clan, who opens the song by lamenting the abforth,
sence of her lover, to an eulogium over the miliAnd he waited the hour that some Bard of the north tary glories of the Chieftain. The translator His hand on the harp of the ancient should cast, has endeavored to imitate the abrupt style of the And bid its wild numbers mix high with the blast; original. But no bard was there left in the land of the Gael, To lament for Mackenzie, last Chief of Kintail.
A WEARY month has wander'd o'er, And shalt thou then sleep, did the Minstrel exclaim, Since last we parted on the shore ; Like the son of the lowly, unnoticed by fame?
Heaven! that I saw thee, Love, once more, No, son of Fitzgerald ! in accents of woe,
Safe on that shore again ! -
And launch'd them on the main.
Clan-Gillian' is to ocean gone;
Clan-Gillian, fierce in foray known;
1 Bonail, or Bonallez, the old Scottish phrase for a feast at parting with a friend.
2 These verses were written shortly after the death of Lord Seaforth, the last male representative of his illustrious house. He was a nobleman of extraordinary talents, who must have made for himself a lasting reputation, had not his political ex
ertions been checked by the painful natural infirmities alluded to in the fourth stanza.-See Life of Scott, vol. v. pp. 18, 19.
3 The Honorable Lady Houd, daughter of the last Lord Seaforth, widow of Admiral Sir Samuel Hood, now Mrs. Stewart Mackenzie of Seaforth and Glasserton.--1833.
4 i. e. The clan of Maclean, literally the race of Gillian.