All distant and faint were the sounds of the battle,

With the breezes they rise, with

the breezes they fail,

Till the shout, and the groan, and the conflict's dread rattle,

And the chase's wild clamour, came loading the gale. Breathless she gazed on the woodlands so dreary;

Slowly approaching a warrior was

seen;

Life's ebbing tide mark'd his footsteps

so weary,

Cleft was his helmet, and woe was his mien.

'O save thee, fair maid, for our armies are flying!

O save thee, fair maid, for thy guardian is low!

Deadly cold on yon heath thy brave Henry is lying,

And fast through the woodland approaches the foe.'

Scarce could he falter the tidings of sorrow,

And scarce could she hear them, benumb'd with despair; And when the sun sank on the sweet lake of Toro,

For ever he set to the brave and the fair.

THE PALMER. (1806.)

'O OPEN the door, some pity to show, Keen blows the northern wind! The glen is white with the drifted snow, And the path is hard to find. 'No outlaw seeks your castle gate, From chasing the King's deer, Though even an outlaw's wretched state

Might claim compassion here.

'A weary Palmer, worn and weak,
I wander for my sin;

O open, for Our Lady's sake!
A pilgrim's blessing win!

'I'll give you pardons from the Pope,
And reliques from o'er the sea;
Or if for these you will not ope,

Yet open for charity.

'The hare is crouching in her form, The hart beside the hind; An aged man, amid the storm,

No shelter can I find.

'You hear the Ettrick's sullen roar, Dark, deep, and strong is he, And I must ford the Ettrick o'er, Unless you pity me.

The iron gate is bolted hard,
At which I knock in vain ;
The owner's heart is closer barr'd,
Who hears me thus complain.
Farewell, farewell! and Mary grant,
When old and frail you be,
You never may the shelter want
That's now denied to me.'

The Ranger on his couch lay warm,
And heard him plead in vain;
But oft amid December's storm
He'll hear that voice again :

For lo, when through the vapours dank.
Morn shone on Ettrick fair,
A corpse amid the alders rank,
The Palmer welter'd there.

THE MAID OF NEIDPATH. (1806.)

O LOVERS' eyes are sharp to see, And lovers' ears in hearing; And love, in life's extremity, Can lend an hour of cheering.

How often the kindest and warmest

prove rovers,

And the love of the faithfullest ebbs

like the sea.

Till, at times-could I help it? I pined and I ponder'd,

If love could change notes like the bird on the tree;

Now I'll ne'er ask if thine eyes may

hae wander'd,

Enough, thy leal heart has been

constant to me.

Welcome, from sweeping o'er sea and through channel, Hardships and danger despising for fame, Furnishing story for glory's bright annal,

Welcome, my wanderer, to Jeanie

and hame!

Enough, now thy story in annals of glory

Has humbled the pride of France,
Holland, and Spain;

No more shalt thou grieve me, no more shalt thou leave me,

I never will part with my Willie again.

144

HEALTH TO LORD MELVILLE. (1806.)

SINCE here we are set in array round the table,

Five hundred good fellows well met in a hall,

Come listen, brave boys, and I'll sing as I'm able

How innocence triumph'd and pride got a fall.

But push round the claret

Come, stewards, don't spare it— With rapture you'll drink to the toast that I give;

Here, boys,

Off with it merrily

Melville for ever, and long may he live!

And pray, don't you mind when the Blues first were raising,

And we scarcely could think the house safe o'er our heads? When villains and coxcombs, French politics praising,

Drove peace from our tables and sleep from our beds?

Our hearts they grew bolder When, musket on shoulder, Stepp'd forth our old Statesmen example to give.

Come, boys, never fear,

Drink the Blue grenadierHere's to old Harry, and long may he live!

They would turn us adrift; though rely, sir, upon it—

Our own faithful chronicles warrant us that

The free mountaineer and his bonny blue bonnet

Have oft gone as far as the regular's
hat.

We laugh at their taunting,
For all we are wanting

Is licence our life for our country to give.
Off with it merrily,

Horse, foot, and artillery, Each loyal Volunteer, long may he live!

'Tis not us alone, boys-the Army

and Navy

Fill it up steadily, Drink it off readily,

politic pranks;

Cornwallis cashier'd, that watch'd

winters to save ye,

And the Cape call'd a bauble, unworthy of thanks.

But vain is their taunt,

No soldier shall want

The thanks that his country to valour can give : Come, boys,

Drink it off merrily,

Sir David and Popham, and long may they live!

steadiness give :

Come, boys,

Drink about merrily,

she live!

And since we must not set Auld Reekie in glory,

And make her brown visage as

light as her heart;

Till each man illumine his own upper story,

Nor law-book nor lawyer shall force us to part.

In Grenville and Spencer,
And some few good men, sir,
High talents we honour, slight dif-
ference forgive;

But the Brewer we'll hoax,
Tallyho to the Fox,

And drink Melville for ever, as long as we live!

HUNTING SONG.

(1808.)

he live!

On the mountain dawns the day,
All the jolly chase is here,
With hawk, and horse, and hunting-
spear!

Hounds are in their couples yelling,
Hawks are whistling, horns

knelling,

Merrily, merrily, mingle they,

stand up for their right.

are

And foresters have busy been,
To track the buck in thicket green;
Now we come to chant our lay,
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'

Waken, lords and ladies gay,
To the greenwood haste away;
We can show you where he lies,
Fleet of foot, and tall of size;
We can show the marks he made,
When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd;
You shall see him brought to bay,
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'

Louder, louder chant the lay,
Waken, lords and ladies gay!
Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee,
Run a course as well as we;

Time, stern huntsman who can baulk,
Stanch as hound, and fleet as hawk:
Think of this, and rise with day,
Gentle lords and ladies gay.

THE RESOLVE.

(1808.)

In imitation of an Old English Poem.)
My wayward fate I needs must 'plain,
Though bootless be the theme;
I loved, and was beloved again,

Yet all was but a dream:
For, as her love was quickly got,
So it was quickly gone;

No more I'll bask in flame so hot,
But coldly dwell alone.

Not maid more bright than maid was e'er

My fancy shall beguile,
By flattering word, or feigned tear,
By gesture, look, or smile:

No more I'll call the shaft fair shot,
Till it has fairly flown,
Nor scorch me at a flame so hot;
I'll rather freeze alone.

Each ambush'd Cupid I'll defy,

In cheek, or chin, or brow,
And deem the glance of woman's eye
As weak as woman's vow:
I'll lightly hold the lady's heart,
That is but lightly won;

I'll steel my breast to beauty's art,
And learn to live alone.

The flaunting torch soon blazes out,
The diamond's ray abides;
The flame its glory hurls about,
The gem its lustre hides;

Such gem I fondly deem'd was mine,
And glow'd a diamond stone,
But, since each eye may see it shine,
I'll darkling dwell alone.

No waking dream shall tinge my thought

With dyes so bright and vain,
No silken net, so slightly wrought,
Shall tangle me again :

No more I'll pay so dear for wit,
I'll live upon mine own,

Nor shall wild passion trouble it,
I'll rather dwell alone.

And thus I'll hush my heart to rest'Thy loving labour's lost;

Thou shalt no more be wildly blest,

To be so strangely crost;
The widow'd turtles mateless die,
The phoenix is but one;

They seek no loves, no more will I—
I'll rather dwell alone.'

EPITAPH

For a monument in Lichfield Cathedral, at the burial-place of the family of Miss Seward.

(1808.)

AMID these aisles, where once his precepts show'd

The Heavenward pathway which in life he trod,