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Sand, and dust, and pebbly stones,
Are leaving bare thy giant bones.
Who dared touch the wild bear's skin
Ye slumber'd on, while life was in
A woman now, or babe, may come
And cast the covering from thy tomb.

Old Reim-kennar, to thy art
Mother Hertha sends her part;
She, whose gracious bounty gives
Needful food for all that lives,
From the deep mine of the North
Came the mystic metal forth,
Doom'd amidst disjointed stones,
Long to cere a champion's bones,
Disinhumed my charms to aid —
Mother Earth, my thanks are paid.

Yet be not wrathful, Chief, nor blight
Mine eyes or ears with sound or sight!
I come not, with unhallow'd tread,
To wake the slumbers of the dead,
Or lay thy giant reliques bare ;
But what I seek thou well canst spare.
Be it to my hand allow'd
To shear a merk's weight from thy shroud;
Yet leave thee sheeted lead enough
To shield thy bones from weather rough.

Girdle of our islands dear,
Element of Water, hear!
Thou whose power can overwhelm
Broken mounds and ruin'd realm

On the lowly Belgian strand,
All thy fiercest rage can never
Of our soil a furlong sever

From our rock-defended land; Play then gently thou thy part, To assist old Norna's art.

See, I draw my magic knife-
Never, while thou wert in life,
Laidst thou still for sloth or fear,
When point and edge were glittering near;
See, the cerements now I sever-
Waken now, or sleep for ever!
Thou wilt not wake-the deed is done!
The prize I sought is fairly won.

Elements, each other greeting,
Gifts and power attend your meeting!

Thanks, Ribolt, thanks,- for this the sea
Shall smooth its ruffled crest for thee-
And while afar its billows foam,
Subside to peace near Ribolt's tomb.
Thanks, Ribolt, thanks—for this the might
Of wild winds raging at their height.
When to thy place of slumber nigh,
Shall soften to a lullaby.

Thou, that over billows dark
Safely send'st the fisher's bark,-
Giving him a path and motion
Through the wilderness of ocean;
Thou, that when the billows brave ye,
O'er the shelves canst drive the navy,
Didst thou chafe as one neglected,
While thy brethren were respected ?
To appease thee, see, I tear
This full grasp of grizzled hair ;
Oft thy breath bath through it sung,
Softening to my magic tongue,-
Now, 'tis thine to bid it fly
Through the wide expanse of sky,
'Mid the countless swarms to sail
Of wild-fowl wheeling on thy gale;
Take thy portion and rejoice,-
Spirit, thou hast heard my voice!

She, the dame of doubt and dread,
Norna of the Fitful-head,
Mighty in her own despite -
Miserable in her might;
In despair and phrensy great,
In her greatness desolate;
Wisest, wickedest who lives,-
Well can keep the word she gives.

Chap. xxv.

[AT INTERVIEW WITH MINNA.] Thou, so needful, yet so dread, With cloudy crest, and wing of red; Thou, without whose genial breath The North would sleep the sleep of death, Who deign'st to warm the cottage hearth, Yet hurls proud palaces to earth, Brightest, keenest of the Powers, Which form and rule this world of ours, With my rhyme of Runic, I Thank thee for thy agency.

She who sits by haunted well,
Is subject to the Nixies' spell;
She who walks on lonely beach,
To the Mermaid's charmed speech;
She who walks round ring of green,
Offends the peevish Fairy Queen;
And she who takes rest in the Dwarfie's cave,
A weary weird of woe shall have.

By ring, by spring, by cave, by shore,
Minna Troil has braved all this and more;
And yet hath the root of her sorrow and ill,
A source that's more deep and more mystical



Thou art within a demon's hold,

(12.)-MOTTOES. More wise than Heims, more strong than Trolld;

(1.)–CHAP. II. No siren sings so sweet as he,No fay springs lighter on the lea;

'Tis not alone the scene-the man, Anselmo, No elfin power hath half the art

The man finds sympathies in these wild wastes, To soothe, to move, to wring the heart

And roughly tumbling seas, which fairer views Life-blood from the cheek to drain,

And smoother waves deny him.

Ancient Drang Drench the eye, and dry the vein. Maiden, ere we farther go,

(2.)—CHAP. VII. Dost thou note me, ay or no ?

She does no work by halves, yon raving ocean ;

Engulphing those she strangles, her wild womb I mark thee, my mother, both word, look, and

Affords the mariners whom she hath dealt on, sign;

Their death at once, and sepulchre.

Old Play Speak on with thy riddle-to read it be mine.

(3.)-CHAP. IX. NORNA. Mark me! for the word I speak

This is a gentle trader, and a prudentShall bring the color to thy cheek.

He's no Autolycus, to blear your eye, This leaden heart, so light of cost,

With quips of worldly gauds and gamesomeness; The symbol of a treasure lost,

But seasons all his glittering merchandise

With wholesome doctrine suited to the use,
Thou shalt wear in hope and in peace,
That the cause of your sickness and sorrow may

As men sauce goose with sage and rosemary.

Old Play. cease, When crimson foot meets crimson hand

(4)–CHAP. XI. In the Martyr's Aisle, and in Orkney land.

-All your ancient customs, Be patient, be patient; for Patience hath power

And long-descended usages, I'll change.

Ye shall not eat, nor drink, nor speak, nor more, To ward us in danger, like mantle in shower; À fairy gift you best may hold

Think, look, or walk, as ye were wont to do; In a chain of fairy gold

Even your marriage-beds shall know mutation;

The bride shall have the stock, the groom the wall; The chain and the gift are each a true token, That not without warrant old Norna has spoken;

For all old practice will I turn and change, But thy nearest and dearest must never behold And call it reformation—marry, will I !

'Tis Even that we're at Odds. them, Till time shall accomplish the truths I have told them.

(5.)-CHAP. xiv.
Chap. xxviii. We'll keep our customs—what is law itself,

But old establish'd custom? What religion
(I mean, with one-half of the men that use it),
Save the good use and wont that carries them

To worship how and where their fathers worshipp'd! (11.)—BRYCE SNAILSFOOT'S ADVERTISE All things resolve in custom--we'll keep ours MENT.

Old Play.

Poor sinners whom the snake deceives,
Are fain to cover them with leaves.
Zetland hath no leaves, 'tis true,
Because that trees are none, or few;
But we have flax and taits of woo',
For linen cloth and wadmaal blue;
And we have many of foreign knacks
Of finer waft, than woo' or flax.
Ye gallanty Lambmas lads appear,
And bring your Lambmas sisters here,
Bryce Snailsfoot spares not cost or care,
To pleasure every gentle pair.

Chap. xxxii.

(6.)-CHAP. xxv.
I do love these ancient ruins !
We never tread upon them but we set
Our foot upon some reverend history,
And questionless, here in this open court
(Which now fies naked to the injuries
Of stormy weather), some men lie interrd,
Loved the Church so well, and gave so largely to it,
They thought it should have canopied their bones
Till doomsday ;-but all things have their end-
Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men,
Must have like death which we have.

Duchess of Malfy.

The robber's quarrel by such sounds is shown, And true men have some chance to gain their own.

Captivity, a Poem.

(7.)-CHAP. XXIX See yonder woman, whom our swains revere, And dread in secret, while they take her counsel When sweetheart shall be kind, or when cross

dame shall die; Where lurks the thief who stole the silver tankard, And how the pestilent murrain may be cured ;This sage adviser's mad, stark mad, my friend; Yet, in her madness, hath the art and cunning To wring fools' secrets from their inmost bosoms, And pay inquirers with the coin they gave her.

Old Play.

(12.)CHAP. XXXVII. Over the mountains and under the waves, Over the fountains and under the graves,

Over floods that are deepest,

Which Neptune obey,
Over rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.

Old Song.

On Ettrick Forest's Mountains Dun."

(8.)—CHAP. xxx. What ho, my jovial mates! come on! we'll frolic it Like fairies frisking in the merry moonshine, Seen by the curtal friar, who, from some chris

tening, Or some blithe bridal, hies belated cell-wardHe starts, and changes his bold bottle swagger To churchman's pace professional,--and, ransacking His treacherous memory for some holy hymn, Finds but the roundel of the midnight catch.

Old Play.


On Ettrick Forest's mountains dun,
'Tis blithe to hear the sportsman's gun,
And seek the heath-frequenting brood
Far through the noon-day solitude:
By many a cairn and trenched mound,
Where chiefs of yore sleep lone and sound,
And springs, where gray-hair'd shepherds tell,
That still the fairies love to dwell.

(9.)—CHAP. XXXII. I strive like to the vessel in the tide-way, Which, lacking favoring breeze, hath not the power To stem the powerful current.--Even so, Resolving daily to forsake my vices, Habit, strong circumstance, renew'd temptation, Sweep me to sea again.—0 heavenly breath, Fill thou my sails, and aid the feeble vessel, Which ne'er can reach the blessed port without thee!

'Tis Odds when Evens meet.

Along the silver streams of Tweed,
'Tis blithe the mimic fly to lead,
When to the hook the salmon springs,
And the line whistles through the rings;
The boiling eddy see him try,
Then dashing from the current high,
Till watchful eye and cautious hand
Have led his wasted strength to land.

(10.)-CHAP. XXXIII. Parental love, my friend, has power o'er wisdom, And is the charm, which, like the falconer's lure, Can bring from heaven the highest soaring spir

its. So, when famed Prosper doff’d his magic robe, It was Miranda pluck'd it from his shoulders.

Old Play

'Tis blithe along the midnight tide,
With stalwart arm the boat to guide;
On high the dazzling blaze to rear,
And heedful plunge the barbed spear;
Rock, wood, and scaur, emerging bright,
Fling on the stream their ruddy light,
And from the bank our band appears
Like Genii, arm'd with fiery spears.'

(11.)-CHAP, XXXIV. Hark to the insult loud, the bitter sneer, The fierce threat answering to the brutal jeer; Oaths fly like pistol-shots, and vengeful words Clash with each other like conflicting swords.

'Tis blithe at eve to tell the tale,
How we succeed, and how we fail,
Whether at Alwyn's' lordly meal,
Or lowlier board of Ashestiel ;-

1 Written after a week's shooting and fishing, in which the poet had been engaged with some friends. The reader may see these verses set to music in Mr. Thomson's Scottish Melodies for 1822.

? See the famous salmon-spearing scene in Guy Mannering. Waverley Novels, vol. iii. p. 259–63.

3 Alwyn, the seat of the Lord Somerville ; now, alas! untenanted, by the lamented death of that kind and hospitable nobleman, the author's nearest neighbor and intimate friend. Lord S. died in February, 1819.

4 Ashestiel, the poet's residence at that time.

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Lord Montaga, uncle and guardian to the young Dake of Buccleuch, placed his Grace's residence of Dalkeith at his Majesty's disposal during his visit to Scotland.

. Charles, the tenth Earl of Haddington, died in 1828.

: The Duke of Hamilton, as Earl of Angus, carried the ancient royal crown of Scotland on horseback in King George's procession, from Holyrood to the Castle.

4 The Castle.
3 M8.—"Come, Athole, from your hills and woods,

Bring down your Hielandmen in cluds,

With bannet, brogue, and tartan duds." • Sir George Clerk of Pennycuik, Bart. The Baron of Pennycuik is bound by his tenure, whenever the King comes to i

Edinburgh, to receive him at the Harestone (in which the standard of James IV. was erected when his army encamped on the Boroughmuir, before his fatal expedition to England), now built into the park-wall at the end of Tipperlin Lone, near the Boroughmuir-head; and, standing thereon, to give three blasts on a horn. 7 MS." Brave Arthur's Seat's a story higher;

Saint Abbe is shouting to Kintire,

You lion, light up a crest of fire.'As seen from the west, the ridge of Arthur's Seat bears a marked resemblance to a lion couchant.

& Mr. Oman, landlord of the Waterloo Hotel.

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