It was William of Deloraine who had been supposed miraculously cured of his wounds;

"And" who had "the battle fought and won!"
"Cranstoun of Teviot-side!"

He led the rescued boy to his mother,

"Yet not Lord Cranstoun deign'd she greet."

But there was much expostulation that she would forego the family feud. And, at last,

"She looked to river, looked to hill,
Thought on the Spirit's prophecy,
Then broke her silence stern and still,-
Not you, but Fate, has vanquish'd me;
Their influence, kindly stars may shower
On Teviot's tide and Branksome tower,

For pride is quelled and love is free.'
She took fair Margaret by the hand,
Who, breathless, trembling, scarce might stand;
That hand to Cranstoun's lord gave she."

And thus their mutual love was plighted on the field.

The Ladye learned soon how the Dwarf had meddled with the Magic Book, and had communicated one of its most potent spells to his master, enabling him to do the part he had done. She determined to renounce attempts at practice of secret magic arts, — she had been so foiled in this affair, and to replace the Book in Michael's grave.

Almost every one knows the magnificent and patriotic address to Scotland with which the Minstrel introduces the sixth and last Canto of "The Lay," an address that those of any country may repeat and feel, and especially Americans returning from abroad. For

"Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,

This is my own, my native land!

Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd!"

And while one gazes from the walls of Newark upon the vale of Yarrow, that vale charmed by wonderful exquisiteness of song, or upon many another Scottish scene, — how inspiring that apostrophe by the Minstrel!

"O Caledonia, stern and wild,

Meet nurse for a poetic child!

Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,

Land of the mountain and the flood!"

And how one feels and loves those tender words of the aged bard that one finds following lines doing one's heart good to read from the monument to Scott, erected, "IN PROVD AND AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE," at Selkirk, by those who knew him well:

"By Yarrow's stream still let me stray,

Though none should guide my feeble way;
Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break,
Although it chill my withered cheek."

These introductions to Cantos contain some of the poet's best passages, as the reading world is aware.

But, to finish the Minstrel's story, we may imagine the old hall at Newark -now so broken - as it was when stately and entire, and when the story of "The Lay" ended in it, and there" was spread a gorgeous festival." Where one now hears only the musical rustle of the river or the breeze among the leaves, were then all the pleasant sounds of wedding ceremonies, and banquet, and feudal hospitality. Minstrels sang delightfully; all indeed "went merry as a marriage-bell." Three beautiful ballads were sung, the best among them the one "that mourns the lovely Rosabelle," romantic ballad associated with Roslin Castle and Chapel already described, a ballad that should be read by all; certainly by visitors to those very picturesque Old-World places.

-a

Suddenly the guests at the Newark festivities perceived that “a wondrous shade involved them all."

"It was not eddying mist or fog,

Drain'd by the sun from fen or bog;

Of no eclipse had sages told;

And yet, as it came on apace,

Each one could scarce his neighbour's face,
Could scarce his own stretch'd hand behold.

A secret horror check'd the feast,

And chill'd the soul of every guest.

Even the high Dame stood half aghast,

She knew some evil on the blast;

Dreadful words and sights had startled each guest. Deloraine

saw

"right certainly,

A shape with amice wrapp'd around,
With a wrought Spanish baldric bound,
Like pilgrim from beyond the sea;

Ard knew-but how it mattered not-
It was the wizard, Michael Scott."

All heard the wonderful tale of the book, and knew then how the dead had been disturbed, how unhallowed and unlawful search into forbidden knowledge had been avenged. And forthwith,

"Then each, to ease his troubled breast,

To some bless'd saint his prayers address'd:
Some to Saint Modan made their vows,

Some to Saint Mary of the Lowes,

Some to the Holy Rood of Lisle;

Some to our Ladye of the Isle;
Each did his patron witness make,"
"That he a pilgrimage would take
To Melrose Abbey, for the sake
Of Michael's restless sprite."
And the "noble dame, dismay'd,
Renounced, for aye, dark magic's aid."

"With naked foot and sackcloth vest,
And arms enfolded on his breast,

Did" each a "pilgrim go,"

"To the high altar's hallow'd side."

And while we look upon the arches and the walls of that consecrated Abbey, solemn and beautiful even now in its desolation, we can summon up the last impressive scene of the Border Minstrel's Lay, admiring its stateliness and joining heartily in the spirit of its devotion, as finally expressed, while imagining how,

"slow up the dim aisle afar,

With sable cowl and scapular,

And snow-white stoles, in order due,
The holy Fathers, two and two,
In long procession came;

Taper and host, and book they bare,
And holy banner, flourish'd fair
With the Redeemer's name.
Above the prostrate pilgrim band
The mitred Abbot stretch'd his hand,
And bless'd them as they kneel'd;

With holy cross he sign'd them all,

And pray'd they might be sage in hall,

And fortunate in field.

Then mass was sung, and prayers were said,

And solemn requiem for the dead;

And bells toll'd out their mighty peal,

For the departed spirit's weal;

And ever in the office close

The hymn of intercession rose;
And far the echoing aisles prolong
The awful burthen of the song, —
DIES IRE, DIES ILLA,

SOLVET SÆCLUM IN FAVILLA;
While the pealing organ rung;

Were it meet with sacred strain
To close my lay, so light and vain,
Thus the holy Fathers sung.

HYMN FOR THE DEAD.

That day of wrath, that dreadful day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner's stay?
How shall he meet that dreadful day?

When, shrivelling like a parched scroll,
The flaming heavens together roll;
When louder yet, and yet more dread,
Swells the high trump that wakes the dead!

Oh! on that day, that wrathful day,

When man to judgment wakes from clay,

Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay,

Though heaven and earth shall pass away!"

And thus closes impressively this poem of Old-World life, in a scene full of suggestions of the noblest aspect of that life; thus, with the majestic service of the ancient Church, glorious with its demonstrative faith and with harmonies of its exalted praise; thus, expressing the poet's very heart, closes this "Lay of the Last Minstrel."

And while the measure and the meaning of that grand rendering of Thomas of Celano's sublime hymn linger in our hearts, expressed by the final words of this first great composition by the Great Magician, these words suggest to us how their Latin originals were final words of that greater composition of his own life. And as he has made them seem yet resounding glorifyingly through the mouldering Abbey, telling of its noble past, so also he has made them render beautiful his own passing away; but of that ever telling of life through a far nobler future, in which there shall not only be no decay, but infinite development into the completeness of all beauty.

Mr. Lockhart informs us that "in the first week of January, 1805, 'The Lay' was published, and its success at once decided that literature should form the main business of Scott's life." During the next year, accordingly, he published several "Ballads and Lyrical Pieces," and had even begun " Waverley, or 'tis Fifty Years since;" a work laid aside to be completed nearly ten years afterwards. In February, 1808, appeared his next great poem, "Marmion," illustrating much of the East Border of Scotland, as “The Lay” illustrates the Middle Border, and also the vicinity of Edinburgh, and the coasts of East Lothian and Northumberland.

SCOTT

VI.

A TALE OF FLODDEN FIELD;" ITS INCIDENTS
AND SCENERY.

COTT began this poem in November, 1806, and composed it while editing John Dryden's voluminous works. It was published on the 23d of February, 1808, "in a splendid quarto, price one guinea and a half." The two thousand copies forming this edition were all disposed of in less than a month. During the poet's life nearly fifty thousand copies were sold.

"

'The poem opens about the commencement of August, and concludes with the defeat of Flodden, 9th September, 1513."

Its