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i»-/<$* Highlands yScotland. . foj

n With treach'rous gleam he lures the fated wight»

*' And leads him flound'ring on, and quite afuays"
What'though far off, from some dark dell espied

His glimm'ring mazes cheer th' excursive sights
Yet tarn, ye wand'rers, turn, your steps aside,

Nor trust the guidance of that faithless light;
For watchful, lurking 'mid th' unrultling reed,

At those mirk * hours the wily monster lies.
And listens oft to hear the passing steed,

And frequent round him rolls his sullen eyes,
If chance his savage 'wrath may some weak wretch surprise.

VII. ,

Ah, luckless swain, o'er all uiiblest indeed!

Whom late bewilder'd in the dank, dark fen,
Far from his flocks and smoking hamlet then!

To that sad spot " his wayward fate stall lead f t'* •*

On him enrag'd, the fiend, in angry mood-,

Shall never look with pity's kind concern,
But instant, furious, raise the whelming flood

O'er its drown'd bank, forbidding all return* •>

Or, if he meditate his wifh'd escape

To some dim hill that seems uprising near,
To his faint eye the grim and grisly shape,

In ail its tenors clad, (hall wild appear.
Meantime, the wat'ry surge (hall round him rise,

Pour'd sudden forth from ev'ry swelling source.
What now remains but tears and hopeless sighs?

His fear-ihcok limbs have lost their youthly force,
And down the waves he floats, a pale and breathless corse,

VIII.

For him> in vain, his anxious wise (hall wait,

Or wander forth to meet him on his way;
For him, in vain, at to-fall of the day,

His babes (hall linger at th' unclosing gate J.
Ah 1 ne'er Ihall he return I Alone, if night

Her travell'd limbs in broken slumbers steep,
With dropping willows drest, his mournful sprits

Shall visit fad, perchance, her silent sleep:
Then he, perhaps, with moist and wat'ry hand,

Shall fondly seem to press her ihudd'ring cheek §t
And with his blue swoln face before her stand, ,

And, (hiv'ring cold, these piteous accents speak?
Pursue j|, dear wife, thy daily toils pursue

At dawn or dude, industrious as before;
Nor e'er of me one hapless thought renew,

■WKJe) * First written, sad.

+ A blank, in the manuscript. The line filled up by Dr Carlyle. I First written, cottage.

i First written, Shall seem to press Ixr cold and sJiudd'ring elect, . |i First written, proceed.

Vot.VU. No 3 j. . *Dd

io8 Ode en the Popular Superstition*

While t lie welt'ring on the ozier'd shore,
Drown'd by the Kaclpie's * wrath, nor e'er shall aid thee fnose!

IX,

Unbounded is thy range ) with varied stile

Thy muse may, lite those feath'ry tribes which spring
From their rude rocks, extend her ikirting wing

Round the moist marge of each cold Hebrid isle,
To that hoar pile which still Its ruin (hows f:

In whose small vaults a pigmy-folk is found,
Whoso bones the deker with his spade upthrows,

And culls them, wond'ring, from the hallow'd ground i
Or thither where beneath the stiow'ry West

The mighty "kings of three fair realms are laid f:
Once foes, perhaps, together now they rest.

No staves revere them, and no wars invade j
Yet frequent now, at midnight's solemn hour,

The rifted mounds their yawning cells unfold.
And forth the monarchs stalk with sov'reign pow'r

In pageant robe9, and wfeath'd with sheeny gold,
And on their twilight tombs aerial council hold.

X.

But, O! o'er all, forget not Kilda'9 face H,

On whose bleak rocks; which brave the walking tides,-
Fair Nature's daughter, Virtue, yet abides.

Go, just, as they, their blameless manners trace!
Then to my car transmit some gentle song

Of those whose lives ate yet sincere and plain,
Their bounded walks the rugged cliffs along,

And all their prospects but the -wintry main.
With sparing temp'raoxe, at the needful time,

They drain the sainted spring, or, hunger-prest.
Along th' Atlantic rock undreading climb,

And of its eggs despoil the Solari's nest*
Thus blest in primal innocence they live,

Sufftc'd and happy with that frugal fase
Which tasteful toil and hourly danger give* Htn

* A name given hi Scotland to a supposed spirit of the waters(

f On the largest of the Flannan iflaridt (isles of the Hebrides) are the rtiins of 1 thapel dedicated to St Flannan. This is reckoned by the inhabitants of the Wefl* «rn Isles a place of tincommon sanctity. One of tile Flannan islands is termed the J/le of Pigmies; and Martin fays, there hive been many small bones dug" up here* resembling in miniature those of she human hotly.

% The island of Iona or leolrakilL See Martin's Description of the Western Islands of Scotland. Tnat author informs Us, that fortyeight kings of Scotland, four kings of Ireland, and five of Norway, were interred in the Church of St ttan in that island. There were two churches and two monasteries founded ■ihere by St Columbu? about A. D. 565. Bed. Hist. Eccl. 1, 3. Collins has taken all his information respecting the Western Isles from Martin; from whom he may" likewise have derived his knowledge of the popular superstitions of the Highlander^ with which this ode shows so perfect an acquaintance.

|| The character of the inhabitants of" St Kilda, as here described, -agrees perfectly w'.th the accounts given by Martin and by Macaulay, of the people of that Him* Tt i« the most westerly of all the Hebrides, and is above 1 jo mile* diltairt sewn th* m iiii land of Scotland.

in the Highlands e/"ScotIand. *og

Hard is their shallow foil, and bleak and bare; Nor ever vernal bee was heard to murmur there 1

XI.

Nor need'st thou blush, that such false themes engage

Thy gentle miivd, of fairer (tores [wisest;
For not alone they touch the village breast,

But fiH'd in elder time th' historic page.
There Shakespeare's self, with ev'ry garland crowe'd *t

In muling hour, his wayward filters found,
And with.their terrors drest the magic scene.
From them he sung, -when mid his bold design,

Before the Scot afflicted and aghast,
The shadowy kings of Banquo's fated line, ■ •

Through the dark cave in gleamy pageant past.
Proceed, nor quit the tales which, simply told,

Could once so well my answ'ring bosom pierce »
Proceed, in forceful sounds and colours bold

The native legends of thy land rehearse;
To such adapt thy lyre, and suit thy powerful verso.

XII.
In scenes like these, which, daring to depart

From sober truth, are still to nature true,
And call forth fresh delight to fancy's view, •

Th' heroic muse employed her Tasso's art J
How have I trembled, when at Tancred's stroke, _

Its gushing blood the gaping cypress pour'd;
When each live plant with mortal accents spoke,

And the wild blast upheav'd the vanilh'd sword f' t
How have I sat, when pip'd the pensive wind,

To hear his harp, by British Fairfax strung.
Prevailing poet, whose undoubting mind

Believ'd the magic wonders which he fung 1
Hence at each found imagination glows;
Hence his warm lay with softest sweetness flow* ]

Melting it flows, pure, num'rous, strong and clear,
And fills the impaffion'd heart, and wins th' harmonious ear f.

XIII.

I

* This stanza is more incorrect in its structure than any of the foregoing. There 1» apparently a line wanting between this and the subsequent one, In miifing ttur, &c The deficient line ought to have rhymed with scene.

t These sour lines were originally written thus:

** How have I trembled, when, at Tancrcd's side,

"Like him I stalk'd, and all his passions felt; "When charm'd by Kmcn, through the forest wide, "Bark'd in each plant a talking spirit dwelt!" J These lines were originally written thus;

"Hence, sure to charm, his early numbers flow,

"Though strong, yet sweet ■
•* Though faithful, sweet; though strong, os simple kind.

"Hence, with each theme, he bids the bosom glow,
"While his warm lavs an easy passage find,
"Poiir'd thro' each inmost nerve, and lull th* harmoniaus ear."
l>d a

ids Account osthi Funeral ^William the Conquer©?.

; xra.

All hail, ye scenes that o'er my foul prevail,

Ye "spacious *" friths and lakes which, far awayv
Are by smooth Annan sill'd, or past'ral Tay,

Or Don's romantic springs, at distance, hail!
The time shall come when I, perhaps, may tread

Your lowly glens, o'erhur.g with spreading broom,
Or o'e^r your stretching r.caths by fancy led:

Then will I dress once more the faded bow'r,
Where Johnfon fat in Drummoad's f "social J" made.

Or crop from Tiviot's dale each "claJTtc flow.er,"
And mourn on Yarrow's banks "the widow'd maid $.'*
Meantime, ye Pow'rs, that on the plains which bore

The cordial youth, on Lothian's plains attend,
Where'er he dwell, on hill, or lowly mnir,

To him \ lose, your kind protection lend,
And, touch'd with love like mine, preset ve my absent sj icndv

Historical and Biographical Anecdotes ||.

Account of the Funeral of'William the vided the proper persons (poliirfkrct

Conqueror. & vespiliones) and hired a carriage to

THough the Conqueror had no convey it to the river, and thence quite grave or monument in England, to Caen. There the abbot and conthe circumstances that attended his vent, attended by crouds of clergy and death are remarkable. He had no laity, came out to meet it. But as they sooner breathed his last at (he Abbey were proceeding to pay the proper hoof St Gervase, on a hill out of Rouen nours, they wete alarmed by a sudden. to the W«st, than all his domestics fire which broke out in a house, and not only forsook him, but plundered destroyed great part of the city. The his apartments so completely, that Lis- distracted people went to give the necorpic was left naked, and he would cefTary assistance, and left the monks, nave wanted a grave,' had it not been with a few bilhops and abbots, to go for the more grateful clergy and the on with the service; which being fit Arcltbifiiop of Rouen, who ordered nistied, and the sarcophagus laid in the the body to be conveyed to Caen, and ground, the body still lying on the 9ne Herliun, a gentleman of the place, bier, Gilbert, bishop os Evreux, proCP"Zi:ns's e1u") fr°m Pure goodness nouuced a long panegyric on the dees heart (naturals bonitafe) took upon ceased; and, in conclusion, called on himself tire care of the funeral, pro- the audience to pray for his soul. On

- isiid.

'• A Manic in the rnanufeript. The word spacious supplied by Dr Carlyle.

-f Ben Johnson undertook a journey to Scotland a-soot in I6ij, to visit the poet Drtimmond, at his feat of tlawthorndi-n, near Edinburgh. Drummond has preserved, in his works, some very curious heads of their conversation.

± A blank in the manuscript Serial supplied by Dr Carlyle.

} Both these, lines left imperfect j supplied by Dr Carlyle. This hist stanza fceaj-s more marks of hastjnesi of composition than any of the rest. Besides the blanks which are supplied by Dr Carlyle, there is apparently in entire line wanting after the seventh line of the stanza. The deficient line ought to have rhymed with broom.

jj Mr Gough'i Stpuicbrtl Monuments, &c, lately publiflied. " - .

AndJsta oftAvnii Tit.

a sudden starts up from trie croud* Ascelin Fitz-Arthur, and demands a compensation for the ground' hcffood* on, which he said William had fovciB!y taken from his father to found his abbey on it; and in God's name forbids the burying him on his property, or covering him with hh turf. The Bi (hops and nobles having satisfied themselves about the truth of his demand, were ob!ig-d to pay him immediately sixty (hillings for the grave, and pro-' (pise an equivalent for the reft of the ground, which- tlipy afterwards gave1 $im. They then proceeded to the interment: but, in laying the body in the sarcophagus, it was found to have Been made so small, by the ignorance 6f the mason, that they were forced to press the corpse with such violence, that the fat belly burst, and diffused an intolerable stench, which all the smoak of the censers and other spices could iot overcome. The priests were glad to hurry over the service, and make the best of then- way home in no small fright.

William Rusus erected to his father's memory a coftry monument, executed by the goldsmith Otho, to whom he caused to be delivered a great quantity of gold, silver, and precious stones; and the following epitaph, composed by Thomas archbishop of York, was put on it in gold letters j

Qui rexit rigidos Northmarios, atque'

*" Britinos

Audacter vicif, fortiter obtinuit, Et Cenomancnfrs virtute coercuit enses, . Imperiique sui legibus applicuit; ftex magnm parva jaect hie pULlELMUS in urna:

SufReit & magno parva domus domino. Ter firptem gradibus fe volverat atque duobus

Virginia in gremio Phœbus, & hie obiit.

In 1J22, Peter de Marigny, biiliop 6f Castries, and abbot of St Stephen it Caen, at the solicitation of a great Cardinal, an archbishop, and ah Italian bishop, desirous to fee the remains of the Conqueror, opened his tomb, and found the body in the original Ctua

til

'. '» fio'n. The abbot caused i parntirig' to

Be taken of it in wood just as it arA peated. But in 1562, the Hugoriotr!*. not content with destroying this paint* hrg, demolished the tombs of the Con* queror and his wife, with their effigies in relief to the life, and broke in pie* ces with their daggers the Conqueror's kierr, made of prerrede vo/deril, add supported on three little white, pilasters". They expected to have rhel with sorni treasure, but found only hi* bones/ stiH joined together, and covered with* red taffety. Those of the arms and) legs were thought longer than thoft ©f the tallest men of the present agai One of thefc sacrilegious wretches! named Francis de Gray de Botir* 1'Abbe, gave them to Dom Michael de Comalle, religious and bailiff of thd abbey, who kept them in nis ehrmibefi till Admiral Coligny and his rriffret ruined and destroyed every thing there*

/Iwccbtcs 9/" EdwardIII. THIS great Prir.ce, who wiped out the stain of his premature accession tA the crown of England by the umrattf* rat intrigues of His' mother, with equal glory supported the king of Semi r4 his throne, on which his grandflihe# had placed h'in, and his own claim id the crown of France, and after he 1ij4 in two bloody battles exhausted th£ blood of if s best subjects, dismersibcrdl that kingdom of some of its heft pro4 tinces. The first forty years' of hfi reign were truly glorious. The cki* cline of his life was distressed By ihi loss of his consort and his gallant soli Edward Prince of Wales, and the ami bition of his fourth son John of Gaunty and linking into dotage, his affections fixt on unworthy objects, he closed i life of sixty-sour years, and 2 reign of fifty-six (the'longest of any of our so* vereigns since Henry III.} at Sfeeriev June 21.1377. His body was brought by four of his sons and others of ttt nobility, through the city of London, with his face uncovered, arid buritS by his wise in Westminster abbcyV

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