"The wilder'd trav'ller sees her glide, And hears her feeble voice with awe'Revenge,' she cries, on Murray's pride! And woe for injur'd Bothwellhaugh!" He ceas'd-and cries of rage and grief Burst mingling from the kindred band, And half arose the kindling Chief, And half unsheath'd his Arran brand. But who, o'er bush, o'er stream, and rock, He dash'd his carbine on the ground. To drink a tyrant's dying groan. And smil'd, the trait'rous pomp to see. Selle-Saddle. A word used by Spencer and other ancient uthors. "With hackbut bent,* my secret stand Dark as the purpos'd deed, I chose, And mark'd, where, mingling in his band, Troop'd Scottish pikes and English bows. "Dark Morton, girt with many a spear, Murder's foul minion, led the van; And clash'd their broad-swords in the rear, The wild Macfarlanes' plaided clan. "Glencairn and stout Parkhead were nigh, Obsequious at their Regent's rein, And haggard Lindesay's iron eye, That saw fair Mary weep in vain. "Mid pennon'd spears, a steely grove, Proud Murray's plumage floated high; Scarce could his trampling charger move, So close the minions crowded nigh. "From the rais'd visor's shade, his eye, Dark-rolling, glanc'd the ranks along, And his steel truncheon, wav'd on high, Seem'd marshalling the iron throng. "But yet his sadden'd brow confess'd A passing shade of doubt and awe; Some fiend was whisp'ring in his breast, 'Beware of injur'd' Bothwellhaugh!" "The death-shot parts-the charger springsWild rises tumult's startling roar!And Murray's plumy helmet rings-Rings on the ground, to rise no more. "What joy the raptur'd youth can feel, To hear her love the lov'd one tell, Or he, who broaches on his steel To see in dust proud Murray roll; Blackbut bert-Gun-cocked. And shriek'd in his death-denfen'd ear, Loud bugles join their wild acclaim- Or sink in Evan's lonely roar. For the loud bugle, pealing high, The blackbird whistles down the vale, And sunk in ivied ruins lie The banner'd tow'rs of Evandale. For chiefs, intent on bloody deed, And Vengeance, shouting o'er the slain, And long may Peace and Pleasure own Nor e'er a ruder guest be known On the fair banks of Evandale. THE GREY BROTHER A FRAGMENT. [The tradition, upon which this fragment is founded, regards a house, upon the barony of Gilmerton, near Laswade, in Mid Lothian. This building, now called Gilmerton-Grange. was for merly named Burudale, from the following tragic adventure. The barony of Gilmerton belonged, of y re, to a gentleman, named Heron, who had one beautiful daughter. This young lady was seduced by the abbot of Newbottle, a richly endowed abbey, upon the banks of the South Esk, now a seat of the marquis of Lothian. Heron came to the knowledge of this circumstance, and learned, also, that the lovers carried on their guity intercourse by the contrivance of the lady's nurse, who lived at this house, of Gilmer ton-Grange, or Burndale lle formed a resolution of bloody vengeance, undeterred by the supposed sanctity of the clerical charac ter, or by the stronger clains of natural affection. Choosing, therefore, a dark and windy night, when the objects of his vengeance were engaged in a stolen interview, he set fire to a stack of dried thorns, and other combustibles, which he had caused to be piled against the house, and reduced to a pile of glowing ashes the dwelling, with all its inmates The scene, with which the ballad opens, was suggested by the following curious passage, extracted from the life of A exander Peden, one of the wandering and persecuted teachers of the sect of Cameronians, during the reign of Charles II., and his successor, James "About the same time he (Peden) came to Andrew Nor mand's house, in the parish of Alloway, in the shire of Aer, being to preach at night in his barn. After he came in, he halted a little, leaning upon a chair-back, with his face covered; when he lifted up his head, he said, 'There are in this house that I have not one word of salvation unto. he halted a little again saying, This is strange, tha the devil will not go out, that we may begin our work? Then there was a woman went out, ill looked upon almost all her life, and to her dying hour, for a witch, with many presumptions of the same. It escaped me, in the former passages, that John Muirhead (whom I have often mentioned) told me, that when he came from Ireland to Galloway, he was at family-worship, and giving some notes upon the scripture, when a very ill-looking man came, and sate down wi hin the door, at the back of the hal lan (partition of the cotta.e:) immediately he halted, and said, There is some unhappy body just now cone into this house. I charge him to go out, and not stop my mouth! The person went out, and he insisted (went on), yet he saw him neither come in nor go out."-The Life and Prophecies of Mr Alexander Peden, late Minister of the Gospel at New Glentuce, in Galloway, part ii. sec. 28.] THE Pope he was saying the high, high mass, With the pow'r to him giv'n, by the saints in heav'n, The Pope he was saying the blessed mass, And from each man's soul his sins did pass, And all, among the crowded throng, While through vaulted roof, and aisles aloof, The holy accents rung. At the holiest word he quiver'd for fear, And fauiter'd in the sound And, when he would the chalice rear, He dropp'd it on the ground. "The breath of one, of evil deed, "A being, whom no blessed word "Up, up, unhappy! haste, arise! I charge thee not to stop my voice, Amid them all a Pilgrim kneel'd, For forty days and nights so drear, And, save with bread and water clear, Amid the penitential flock, Seem'd none more bent to pray, Again unto his native land, His unblest feet his native seat, Mid Eske's fair woods, regain; Through woods more fair no stream more sweet Rolls to the eastern main. And Lords to meet the Pilgrim came, And vassals bent the knee; For all mid Scotland's chiefs of fame, Was none more fam'd than he. And boldly for his country still, |