OLD ELSPETH sings:

III.

FROM THE ANTIQUARY.

THE AGED CARLE.

'WHY sit'st thou by that ruin'd hall, Thou aged carle so stern and grey? Dost thou its former pride recall,

Or ponder how it pass'd away?' —

'Know'st thou not me?' the Deep Voice cried;

'So long enjoy'd, so oft misusedAlternate, in thy fickle pride,

Desired, neglected, and accused!

'Before my breath, like blazing flax,

Man and his marvels pass away! And changing empires wane and wax,

Are founded, flourish, and decay.

'Redeem mine hours-the space is brief

While in my glass the sand-grains shiver,

And measureless thy joy or grief When TIME and thou shall part for ever!'

Chap. x.

AN EPITAPH.

HEIR lyeth John o' ye Girnell;
Erth has ye nit and heuen ye kirnell.
In hys tyme ilk wyfe's hennis clokit,
Ilk gud mannis herth wi' bairnis was
stokit.

He deled a boll o' bear in firlottis fyve, Four for ye halie kirke and ane for pure mennis wyvis.

Chap. XI.

'THE herring loves the merry moonlight,

The mackerel loves the wind, But the oyster loves the dredging sang, For they come of a gentle kind.'

Now haud your tongue, baith wife and carle,

And listen, great and sma',
And I will sing of Glenallan's Earl

That fought on the red Harlaw.

The cronach 's cried on Bennachie,
And doun the Don and a',

And hieland and lawland may mournfu' be

For the sair field of Harlaw.

They saddled a hundred milk-white steeds,

They hae bridled a hundred black, With a chafron of steel on each horse's head,

And a good knight upon his back.

They hadna ridden a mile, a mile,
A mile, but barely ten,
When Donald came branking down
the brae

Wi' twenty thousand men.

Their tartans they were waving wide,
Their glaives were glancing clear,
The pibrochs rung frae side to side,
Would deafen ye to hear.

The great Earl in his stirrups stood,
That Highland host to see;
Now here a knight that's stout and
good

May prove a jeopardie:

'What would'st thou do, my squire

To fight were wond'rous peril; What would ye do now, Roland Cheyne,

Were ye Glenallan's Earl?'
'Were I Glenallan's Earl this tide,
And ye were Roland Cheyne,
The spur should be in my horse's side,
And the bridle upon his mane.

If they hae twenty thousand blades,
And we twice ten times ten,
Yet they hae but their tartan plaids,
And we are mail-clad men.

'My horse shall ride through ranks

sae rude,

As through the moorland fern,— Then ne'er let the gentle Norman blude Grow cauld for Highland kerne.'

He turn'd him right and round again, Said-Scorn na at my mither; Light loves I may get mony a ane, But minnie ne'er anither.

Chap. XL.

MOTTOES.

I KNEW Anselmo. He was shrewd and prudent,

Wisdom and cunning had their shares

of him ;

be our guest.

Our haunted room was ever held the best:

If, then, your valour can the fight sustain

Of rustling curtains, and the clinking chain;

If your courageous tongue have powers to talk When round your bed the horrid ghost shall walk;

If you dare ask it why it leaves its tomb,

I'll see your sheets well air'd, and show the room.'

Ir you fail honour here, Never presume to serve her any more ; Bid farewell to the integrity of arms, And the honourable name of soldier

of laurel

By thunder struck from a desertlesse forehead.

? A Faire Quarrel.

Chap. xx.

THE Lord Abbot had a soul

ditty,

Pepin's cradle.

On Title-page.

rapid step

YES! I love Justice well-as well as you do

shall excuse me

frenzy,

LIFE ebbs from such old age, unmark'd and silent,

As the slow neap-tide leaves yon stranded galley.

Late she rock'd merrily at the least impulse

That wind or wave could give; but now her keel

Is settling on the sand, her mast has ta'en

An angle with the sky, from which it shifts not.

Each wave receding shakes her less and less,

Till, bedded on the strand, she shall remain

Useless as motionless,

Chap. XL.

Old Play.

So, while the Goose, of whom the fable told,

gold,

too dear,

C C