While stretch'd at length upon the floor,
Again I fought each combat o'er,
Pebbles and shells, in order laid,

The mimic ranks of war display'd;

And onward still the Scottish Lion bore,

And still the scatter'd Southron fled before.1

Still, with vain fondness, could I trace,
Anew, each kind familiar face,
That brighten'd at our evening fire!
From the thatch'd mansion's grey-hair'd Sire,"
Wise without learning, plain and good,
And sprung of Scotland's gentler blood;
Whose eye, in age, quick, clear, and keen,
Show'd what in youth its glance had been;
Whose doom discording neighbours sought,
Content with equity unbought;3

To him the venerable Priest,

Our frequent and familiar guest,

Whose life and manners well could paint

Alike the student and the saint ;1

1 See notes on The Eve of St. John, in the Border Minstrelsy, vol. iv. :

and the Author's Introduction to the Minstrelsy, vol. i. p. 101, ante.

* Robert Scott of Sandyknowes, the grandfather of the Poet.

3

Upon revising the Poem, it seems proper to mention that the lines,

"Whose doom discording neighbours sought,

Content with equity unbought."

have been unconsciously borrowed from a passage in Dryden's beautiful epistle to John Driden of Chesterton.-1808. Note to Second Edition.

4 The reverend gentleman alluded to was Mr. John Martin, minister of Mertoun, in which parish Smailholm Tower is situated.

Alas! whose speech too oft I broke
With gambol rude and timeless joke:
For I was wayward, bold, and wild,
A self-will'd imp, a grandame's child;
But half a plague, and half a jest,
Was still endured, beloved, caress'd.

For me, thus nurtured, dost thou ask The classic poet's well-conn'd task? Nay, Erskine, nay-On the wild hill Let the wild heath-bell flourish still; Cherish the tulip, prune the vine, But freely let the woodbine twine, And leave untrimm'd the eglantine : Nay, my friend, nay-Since oft thy praise Hath given fresh vigour to my lays; Since oft thy judgment could refine My flatten'd thought, or cumbrous line; Still kind, as is thy wont, attend, And in the minstrel spare the friend. Though wild as cloud, as stream, as gale, Flow forth, flow unrestrain'd, my Tale!