First he woxe pale, and then woxe red; Never a word he spake but three :"My sand is run; my thread is spun ; This sign regardeth me."

The elfin harp his neck around,
In minstrel guise, he hung;

And on the wind, in doleful sound,
Its dying accents rung.

Then forth he went: yet turn'd him oft

To view his ancient hall:

On the grey tower, in lustre soft,
The autumn moonbeams fall;

And Leader's waves, like silver sheen,
Danced shimmering in the ray;
In deepening mass, at distance seen,
Broad Soltra's mountains lay.

Farewell, my fathers' ancient tower! A long farewell," said he :

"The scene of pleasure, pomp, or power, Thou never more shalt be.

"To Learmont's name no foot of earth Shall here again belong, And, on thy hospitable hearth,

The hare shall leave her young.

"Adieu! adieu !" again he cried,
All as he turn'd him roun'—
"Farewell to Leader's silver tide!
Farewell to Ercildoune !"

The hart and hind approach'd the place,
As lingering yet he stood:

And there, before Lord Douglas' face,
With them he cross'd the flood.

Lord Douglas leap'd on his berry-brown steed,
And spurr'd him the Leader o'er ;

But, though he rode with lightning speed,
He never saw them more.

Some said to hill, and some to glen,

Their wondrous course had been;

But ne'er in haunts of living men
Again was Thomas seen.

GLENFINLAS; OR, LORD RONALD'S
CORONACH.

THE simple tradition, upon which the following stanzas are founded, runs thus :-While two Highland hunters were passing the night in a solitary bothy (a hut, built for the purpose of hunting), and making merry over their venison and whisky, one of them expressed a wish that they had pretty lasses to complete their party. The words were scarcely uttered, when two beautiful young women, habited in green, entered the hut, dancing and singing. One of the hunters was seduced, by the siren who attached herself particularly to him, to leave the hut: the other remained, and, suspicious of the fair seducers, continued to play upon a trump, or Jew's harp, some strain consecrated to the Virgin Mary. Day at length came, and the temptress vanished. Searching in the forest, he found the bones of his unfortunate friend, who had been torn to pieces and devoured by the fiend into whose toils he had fallen. The place was from thence called the Glen of the Green Women.

Glenfinlas is a tract of forest-ground, lying in the Highlands of Perthshire, not far from Callander in Menteith. It was formerly a royal forest, and now belongs to the Earl of Moray. This country, as well as the adjacent district of Balquidder, was, in times of yore, chiefly inhabited by the Macgregors. To the west of the forest of Glenfinlas lies Loch Katrine, and its romantic avenue, called the Trosachs. Benledi, Benmore, and Benvoirlich, are mountains in the same district, and at no great distance from Glenfinlas. The river Teith passes Callander and the Castle of Doune, and joins the Forth near Stirling. The Pass of Lenny is immediately above Callander, and is the principal access to the Highlands, from that town. Glenartney is a forest, near Benvoirlich. The whole forms a sublime tract of alpine scenery.

This ballad first appeared in the Tales of Wonder, by Lewis.

"Ο

HONE a rie'! O hone a rie' !

The pride of Albin's line is o'er,
And fallen Glenartney's stateliest tree;
We ne'er shall see Lord Ronald more!".

O, sprung from great Macgillianore,
The chief that never fear'd a foe,
How matchless was thy broad claymore,
How deadly thine unerring bow!

Well can the Saxon widows tell,

How, on the Teith's resounding shore,
The boldest Lowland warriors fell,
As down from Lenny's pass you bore.

But o'er his hills, in festal day,

How blazed Lord Ronald's beltane-tree,
While youths and maids the light strathspey
So nimbly danced with Highland glee !

Cheer'd by the strength of Ronald's shell,
E'en age forgot his tresses hoar;

But now the loud lament we swell,
O ne'er to see Lord Ronald more!
From distant isles a chieftain came,
The joys of Ronald's halls to find,
And chase with him the dark-brown game,
That bounds o'er Albin's hills of wind.

'Twas Moy; whom in Columba's isle
The Seer's prophetic spirit found,
As, with a minstrel's fire the while,
He waked his harp's harmonious sound.
Full many a spell to him was known,
Which wandering spirits shrink to hear;
And many a lay of potent tone,

Was never meant for mortal ear.

For there, 'tis said, in mystic mood,
High converse with the dead they hold,
And oft espy the fated shroud,

That shall the future corpse enfold.

O so it fell, that on a day,

To rouse the red deer from their den, The Chiefs have ta'en their distant way, And scour'd the deep Glenfinlas glen. No vassals wait their sports to aid,

To watch their safety, deck their board; Their simple dress, the Highland plaid, Their trusty guard, the Highland sword. Three summer days, thro' brake and dell, Their whistling shafts successful flew ; And still, when dewy evening fell, The quarry to their hut they drew.

In grey Glenfinlas' deepest nook
The solitary cabin stood,
Fast by Moneira's sullen brook,

Which murmurs through that lonely wood.

Soft fell the night, the sky was calm,
When three successive days had flown;
And summer mist in dewy balm

Steep'd heathy bank and mossy stone.

The moon, half-hid in silvery flakes,
Afar her dubious radiance shed,
Quivering on Katrine's distant lakes,
And resting on Benledi's head.

Now in their hut, in social guise,

Their sylvan fare the Chiefs enjoy ; And pleasure laughs in Ronald's eyes, As many a pledge he quaffs to Moy.

"What lack we here to crown our bliss, While thus the pulse of joy beats high? What, but fair woman's yielding kiss,

Her panting breath and melting eye?

"To chase the deer of yonder shades, This morning left their father's pile The fairest of our mountain maids,

The daughters of the proud Glengyle.

"Long have I sought sweet Mary's heart, And dropp'd the tear, and heaved the sigh: But vain the lover's wily art,

Beneath a sister's watchful eye.