Nor in her fostering fancy perish'd

She would not e'en their folly chide,
E'en things inanimate that had supplied

But like the sun and showers of heaven,
Means of enjoyment once. Maternal love, Which to the false and true are given,
Active and warm, which nothing might restrain, Want and distress relieved on either side.
Led her once more, in years advanced, to rove
To distant southern climes, and once again

LIV.
Her footsteps press'd the Belgian shore,

But soon, from fear of future change,
The town, the very street that was her home of yore. The evil took a wider range.

The northern farmers, spoil'd and bare,
LI.

No more could rent or produce spare
Fondly that homely house she eyed,

To the soil's lords. All were distress'd, The door, the windows, every thing

And on our noble dame this evil sorely press' Which to her back-cast thoughts could bring Her household numerous, her means withheld The scenes of other days. Then she applied Shall she her helpless servants now dismiss To knocker bright her thrilling hand,

To rob or starve, in such a time as this, And begg'd, as strangers in the land,

Or wrong to others do ? but nothing quell'd Admittance from the household dame,

Her calm and upright mind." Go, summon here And thus preferred ber gentle claim :

Those who have served me many a year.” “ This house was once my happy home,

The summons went; each lowly name Its rooms, its stair, I fain would see ;

Full swiftly to her presence came, Its meanest nook is dear to me,

And thus she spoke: “ Ye've served me long, Let me and mine within its threshold come.”

Pure, as I think, from fraud or wrong, But no ; this might not be !

And now, my friendly neighbours, true Their feet might soil her polish'd floor,

And simply I will deal with you. The dame held fast the hostile door,

The times are shrewd, my treasures spent, A Belgian housewife she.

My farms have ceased to yield me rent;
“ Fear not such harm ! we'll doff our shoes : And it may chance that rent or grain
Do not our earnest suit refuse !

I never shall receive again.
We'll give thee thanks, we'll give thee gold; The dainties which my table fed,
Do not kind courtesy withhold !"

Will now be changed for daily bread,
But still it might not be ;

Dealt sparely, and for this I must
The dull, unpliant dame refused her gentle plea Be debtor to your patient trust,

If ye consent."-Swift through the hall,
LII.

With eager haste, spoke one and all.
With her and her good lord, who still

“ No, noble dame! this must not be ! Sweet union held of mated will,

With heart as warm and hand as free,
Years pass'd away with lightsome speed;

Still thee and thine we'll serve with pride,
But ah ! their bands of bliss at length were riven ; As when fair fortune graced your side.
And she was clothed in widow's sable weed, The best of all our stores afford
Submitting to the will of Heaven.

Shall daily smoke upon thy board;
And then a prosperous race of children good And, shouldst thou never clear the score,
And tender, round their noble mother stood. Heaven for thy sake will bless our store."
And she the while, cheer'd with their pious love, She bent her head with courtesy,
Waited her welcome summons from above. The big tear swelling in her eye,

And thank'd them all. Yet plain and spare,
LIII.

She order'd still her household fare,
But whatsoe'er the weal or wo

Till fortune's better die was cast,
That Heaven across her lot might throw,

And adverse times were past.
Full well her Christian spirit knew
Its path of virtue, straight and true.

LV.
When came the shock of evil times, menacing Good, tender, generous, firm and sage,
The peaceful land—when blood and lineage tracing | Through grief and gladness, shade and sheen,
As the sole claim to Britain's throne, in spite As fortune changed life's motley scene,
Of Britain's weal or will, chiefs of the north, | Thus pass'd she on to reverend age.
In warlike muster, led their clansmen forth, And when the heavenly summons came,
Brave, faithful, strong and toughly nerved, Her spirit from its morta] frame
Would they a better cause had served!

And weight of mortal cares to free, For Stuart's dynasty to fight,

It was a blessed sight to see, Distress to many a family came,

The parting saint her state of honour keeping Who dreaded more the approaching shame

In gifted, dauntless faith, whilst round her, weeping, Of penury's ill-favour'd mien,

Her children's children mourn'd on bended knee. Than e'en the pang of hunger keen. How softly then her pity flow'd ! How freely then her hand bestow'd !

In London's fair imperial town She did not question their opinion

She laid her earthly burden down. Of party, kingship, or dominion :

In Mellerstain, ber northern home,

Was raised for her a graven tomb
Which gives to other days her modest, just renown.

LORD JOHN OF THE EAST.

The fire blazed bright till deep midnight, And now, ye polish'd fair of modern times,

And the guests sat in the hall, If such indeed will listen to my rhymes,

And the lord of the feast, Lord John of the East, What think ye of her simple, modest worth,

Was the merriest of them all.
Whom I have faintly tried to shadow forth?
How vain the thought! as if ye stood in need His dark gray eye, that wont so sly
For pattern ladies in dull books to read.

Beneath his helm to scowl,
Will she such antiquated virtues prize,

Flash'd keenly bright, like a new-waked sprite Who with superb signoras proudly vies,

As pass'd the circling bowl. Trilling before the dear admiring crowd

In laughter light, or jocund lay, With outstretch'd, straining throat, bravuras loud,

That voice was heard, whose sound, Her high-heaved breast press'd hard, as if to boast

Stern, loud, and deep, in battle-fray
The inward pain such mighty efforts cost:

Did foemen fierce astound;
Or on the white-chalk'd floor, at midnight hour,
Her head with many a flaunting, full-blown flower, And stretch'd so balm, like lady's palm,
And bartisan of braided locks enlarged,

To every jester near,
Her flimsy gown with twenty flounces charged, That hand which through a prostrate foe
Wheels gayly round the room on pointed toe,

Oft thrust the ruthless spear.
Softly supported by some dandy beau :-

The gallants sang, and the goblets rang, Will she, forsooth! or any belle of spirit,

And they revell'd in careless state, Regard such old, forgotten, homely merit?

Till a thundering sound, that shook the ground, Or she, whose cultured, high-strain's talents soar

Was hcard at the castle gate.
Throngh all th' ambitious range of letter'd lore
With soul enthusiastic, fondly smitten

“Who knocks without, so loud and stout ?
With all that e'er in classic page was written, 1 Some wandering knight, I ween,
And whilst her wit in critic task engages,

| Who from afar, like a guiding star, The technic praise of all praised things outrages; 1 Our blazing hall hath seen. Whose finger, white and small, with ink-stain tipt, I

pt, “If a stranger it be of high degree, Still scords with vulgar thimble to be clipt; Who doth with proud pretence her claims advance

| (No churl durst make such din,)

Step forth amain, my pages twain,
To philosophic, honour'd ignorance

And soothly ask him in.
Of all, that, in divided occupation,
Gives the base stamp of female degradation; 1" Tell him our cheer is the forest deer,
Protests she knows not colour, stripe nor shade, Our bowl is mantling high,
Nor of what stuff her flowing robe is made, And the lord of the feast is John of the East,
But wears, from petty, frivolous fancies free,

Who welcomes him courteously.”
TV hatever careful Betty may decree;

The pages twain return'd again, As certes, well she may, for Betty's skill

And a wild, scared look had they ; Leaves her in purfle, furbelow, or frill,

“Why look ye so?-is it friend or foe?” No whit behind the very costliest fair

Did the angry baron say.
That wooes with daily pains the public stare :
Who seems almost ashamed to be a woman,

“ A stately knight without doth wait,
And yet the palm of parts will yield to no man But further he will not hie,
But holds on battle-ground eternal wrangling, Till the baron himself shall come to the gate,
The plainest case in mazy words entangling :-

And ask him courteously.”Will she, I trow, or any kirtled sage,

“By my mother's shroud, he is full proud! Admire the subject of my artless page ?

What earthly man is he?” And yet there be of British fair, I know,

“ I know not, in truth,” quoth the trembling youth, Who to this legend will some favour show

“If earthly man it be. From kindred sympathy; whose life proceeds In one up wearied course of gentle deeds,

“ In Raveller's plight, he is bedight, And pass untainted through the earthly throng, With a vest of the crim'sy meet; Like souls that to some better world belong. But his mantle behind, that streams on the wind, Nor will I think, as sullen cynics do,

Is a corse's bloody sheet.” Still libelling present times, their number few.

“Out, paltry child! thy wits are wild, Yea, leagued for good they act, a virtuous band,

| Thy comrade will tell me true : The young, the rich, the loveliest of the land,

Say plainly, then, what hast thou seen?
Who clothe the naked, and, each passing week,

| Or dearly shalt thou rue.”
The wretched poor in their sad dwelling seek,
Who, cheer'd and grateful, feebly press and bless Faint spoke the second page with fear,
The hands which princes might be proud to kiss :-! And bent him on his knee,
Such will regard my tale, and give to fame “ Were I on your father's sword to swear,
A generous, helpful maid, a good and noble dame. The same it appear'd to me.”

Then dark, dark lower'd the baron's eye,

And his red cheek changed to wan; For again at the gate more furiously,

The thundering din began.
“ And is there ne'er of my vassals here,

Of high or low degree,
That will unto this stranger go,

Will go for the love of me?"
Then spoke and said, fierce Donald the Red,

(A fearless man was he,)
“ Yes; I will straight to the castle gate,

Lord John, for the love of thee."

But his loosen'd limbs shook fast, and pour'd

The big drops from his brow,
As louder still the third time roard

The thundering gate below.
“O rouse thee, baron, for manhood's worth!

Let good or ill befall,
Thou must to the stranger knight go forth,

And ask him to your hall."
“ Rouse thy bold breast,” said each eager guest,

“What boots it shrinking so?
Be it fiend, or sprite, or murder'd knight,

In God's name thou must go.
“ Why shouldst thou fear? dost thou not wear

A gift from the great Glendower,
Sandals blest by a holy priest,

O'er which naught ill hath power ?”

With heart full stout, he hied him out,

Whilst silent all remain ;
Nor moved a tongue those gallants among,

Till Donald return'd again.
“O speak,” said his lord, “ by thy hopes of grace,

What stranger must we hail ?”
But the haggard look of Donald's face

Made his faltering words to fail.

All ghastly pale did the baron quail,

As he turn'd him to the door,
And his sandals blest, by a holy priest,

Sound feebly on the floor.
Then back to the hall and his merry mates all,

He cast his parting eye,
“God send thee amain, safe back again !”

He heaved a heavy sigh.

“ It is a knight in some foreign guise,

His like did I never behold;
For the stony look of his beamless eyes

Made my very life-blood cold.

“ I did him greet in fashion meet,

And bade him your feast partake,
But the voice that spoke, when he silence broke,

Made the earth beneath me quake.

Then listen'd they, on the lengtben'd way,

To his faint and lessening tread,
And, when that was past, to the wailing blast,

That wail'd as for the dead.

« O such a tone did tongue ne'er own

That dwelt in mortal head ;-
It is like a sound from the hollow ground,

Like the voice of the coffin'd dead.

But wilder it grew, and stronger it blew,

And it rose with an elrich sound,
Till the lofty keep on its rocky steep,

Fell hurling to the ground.

“ I bade him to your social board.

Each fearful eye then glanced on high, But in he will not hie,

To the lofty-window'd wall, Until at the gate this castle's lord

When a fiery trace of the baron's face Shall entreat him courteously.

Through the casements shone on all. “ And he stretch'd him the while with a ghastly But the vision'd glare pass'd through the air, smile,

And the raging tempest ceased, And sternly bade me say,

And never more on sea or shore, 'Twas no depute's task your guest to ask

Was seen Lord John of the East. To the feast of the woody bay."

The sandals, blest by a holy priest, Pale grew the baron, and faintly said,

Lay unscath'd on the swarded green, As he heaved his breath with pain,

| But never again on land or main, “ From such a feast as there was spread,

Lord John of the East was seen. Do any return again?

“ I bade my guest to a bloody feast,

Where the death's wound was his fare,
And the isle's bright maid, who my love betray'd,

She tore her raven hair.

MALCOM'S HEIR.

“The seafowl screams, and the watch-tower gleams, O Go not by Duntorloch's walls And the deafening billows roar,

When the moon is in the wane, Where he unblest was put to rest,

And cross not o'er Duntorloch's bridge, On a wild and distant shore.

The farther bank to gain.

“Do the hollow grave and the whelming wave

Give up their dead again?
Doth the surgy waste waft o'er its breast

The spirits of the slain ?”

For there the Lady of the Stream

In dripping robes you'll spy,
A-singing to her pale, wan babe,
1 An elrich lullaby.