We know not when we sleep nor when we wake. (8.)-CHAP. XXVIII. A mirthful man he was-the snows of age (9.)—CHAP. XXX. Ay, this is he who wears the wreath of bays Which Jove's dread lightning scathes not. He hath doft The cumbrous helm of steel, and flung aside (10.)-CHAP. XXXI. Want you a man And while they waked, some men have seen such Experienced in the world and its affairs? Here he is for your purpose.-He's a monk. The rather that he knows it passing well, Drinking Song.1 (7.)—CHAP. XXII. Old Play. And strive to distinguish through tempest and limb, which had of late given him much pain, as well gloom, The prance of the steed, and the toss of the plume. piece of handiwork, and Sir Walter felt at firs: The rain is descending; the wind rises loud; And the moon her red beacon has veil'd with a cloud; as inconvenience. Mr. Fortune produced a clever great relief from the use of it: insomuch that his spirits rose to quite the old pitch, and his letter to me upon the occasion overflows with merry ap plications of sundry maxims and verses about 'Tis the better, my mates! for the warder's dull Fortune. Fortes Fortuna adjurat'—he says eye Shall in confidence slumber, nor dream we are nigh. Our steeds are impatient! I hear my blithe Gray! There is life in his hoof-clang, and hope in his neigh! Like the flash of a meteor, the glance of his mane Shall marshal your march through the darkness and rain. The drawbridge has dropp'd, the bugle has blown; One pledge is to quaff yet-then mount and begone! To their honor and peace, that shall rest with the slain; To their health and their glee, that see Teviot again! 'never more sing I "FORTUNE, my Foe, why dost thou frown on me! No-let my ditty be henceforth— Fortune, my Friend, how well thou favorest me! A kinder Fortune man did never see! Thou propp'st my thigh, thou rid'st my knee of pain, I'll walk, I'll mount-I'll be a man again.” ”— Life, vol. x. p. 38. |