him to health: he returned to Abbotsford, and are the n 1832. His loss was mourned not only by his own country, but in every portion of the civilized globe; for his fame had spread throughout all parts of it: and there is scarcely a language into which his works have not been translated. The kindness of his heart, the benevolence of his disposition, the thorough GOODNESS of his nature, were appreciated by all who had the privilege of his acquaintance; but his genius is the vast and valuable property of mankind. In person he was tall, and had the appearance of a powerful and robust man. His countenance has been rendered familiar by artists in abundance; the justest notion of it is conveyed by the bust of Chantrey. Its expression was peculiarly benevolent; his forehead was broad, and remarkably high. We have left ourselves but little space to comment upon the poetry of Sir Walter Scott; his fame as a Poet was eclipsed by his reputation as a Novelist; and the appearance of a star of greater magnitude drew from him, by degrees, the popularity he had so long engrossed. Yet we venture to hazard an opinion, that if it be possible for either to be forgotten, his poems will outlive his prose; and that Waverley and Ivanhoe will perish before Marmion and the Lady of the Lake. We can find no rare and valuable quality in the former that we may not find in the latter. A deeply interesting and exciting story, glorious and true pictures of scenery, fine and accurate portraits of character, clear and impressive accounts of ancient customs, details of battles-satisfying to the fancy, yet capable of enduring the sternest test of truth-are to be found in the one class as well as in the other. In addition, we have the most graceful and harmonious verse; and the style is undoubtedly such, as equally to delight those who possess, ENCHANTRESS, farewell! who so oft has decoy'd me, Oh! none but some lover, whose heart-strings are breaking, Each joy thou couldst double, and when there came sorrow, Or pale disappointment, to darken my way, What voice was like thine, that could sing of to-morrow, Till forgot in the strain was the grief of to-day! But when friends drop around us in life's weary waning, "Twas thou that once taught me, in accents bewailing, HUNTING SONG. WAKEN, lords and ladies gay, With hawk, and horse, and hunting-spear: Hounds are in their couples yelling, Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling; Merrily, merrily, mingle they, Waken, lords and ladies gay." Waken, lords and ladies gay, The mist has left the mountain grey; Waken, lords and ladies gay, When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd; Louder, louder chaunt the lay, Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee, Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk, LOCHINVAR. O, YOUNG Lochinvar has come out of the west, He stayed not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone; The bride had consented-the gallant came late- So boldly he entered the Netherby-hall, Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all; So stately his form, and so lovely her face, While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! "She is won! we are gone, over bush, loch, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar. There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan,- So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? LULLABY OF AN INFANT CHIEF. O HUSH thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight,— The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see, O ho ro, i ri ri, cadil gu lo, O ho ro, i ri ri, cadil gu lo. O fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, O hush thee, my babie, the time soon will come, |