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-P. 272.

'Donaldson, the landlord, did not fail to master that the Goodman of Ballageich call on the Gudeman of Ballenguich, when desired to speak with the King of Kippen. his astonishment at finding that the king The porter telling Arnpryor so much, he, in had been his guest afforded no small amuse all humble manner, came and received the ment to the merry monarch and his courtiers; king, and having entertained him with much and, to carry on the pleasantry, he was sumptuousness and jollity, became so agreethenceforth designated by James with the able to King James, that he allowed him to title of King of the Moors, which name and take so much of any, provision he found designation have descended from father to carrying that road as he had occasion for son ever since, and they have continued in and seeing, he made the first visit, desired possession of the identical spot, the property | Arnpryor in a few days to return him a of Mr. Erskine of Mar, till very lately, when second to Stirling, which he performed, and this gentleman, with reluctance, turned out continued in very much favour with the the descendant and representative of the king, always thereafter being termed King King of the Moors, on account of his of Kippen while he lived." -BUCHANAN'SEssay majesty's invincible 'indolence, and great upon the Family of Buchanan. Edin. 1775, dislike to reform or innovation of any kind,

8vo, p. 74. although, from the spirited example of his The readers of Ariosto must give credit for neighbour tenants on the same estate, he is the amiable features with which King James V convinced similar exertion would promote is represented, since he is generally conhis advantage.'

sidered as the prototype of Zerbino, the most The author requests permission yet farther interesting hero of the Orlando Furioso. to verify the subject of his poem, by an extract from the genealogical work of Buchanan of Auchmar, upon Scottish surnames :

Note LXXV. *This John "Buchanan of Auchmar and

Stirling's tower Arnpryor was afterwards termed King, of

Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims. Kippen, upon the following account. King James V, a very sociable, debonair prince,

William of Worcester, who wrote about residing at Stirling, in Buchanan of Arn

the middle of the fifteenth century, calls pryor's time, carriers were very frequently passing along the common road, being near

Stirling Castle Snowdoun. Sir David LindArnpryor's house, with necessaries for the use

say bestows the same epithet upon it in his of the king's family: and he, having some

complaint of the Papingo: extraordinary occasion, ordered one of these

'Adieu, fair Snawdoun, with thy towers high, carriers to leave his load at his house, and

Thy chaple-royal, park, and table round;

May, June, and July, would I dwell in thee, he would pay him for it; which the carrier Were 1 a man, to hear the birdis sound, refused to do, telling him he was the king's Whilk doth againe thy royal rock rebound.' carrier, and his load for his majesty's use Mr. Chalmers, in his late excellent edition to which Arnpryor seemed to have sinali of Sir David Lindsay's works, has refuted regard, compelling the carrier, in the end, the chimerical derivation of Snawdoun from to leave his load; telling him, if King James snedding, or cutting. It was probably was King of Scotland, he was King of derived from the romantic legend which Kippen, so that it was reasonable he should connected Stirling with King Arthur, to share with his neighbour king in some of which the mention of the Round Table gives these loads, so frequently carried that road. countenance. The ring within which justs The carrier representing this usage, and were formerly practised, in the castle park, telling the story, as Arnpryor spoke it, to is still called the Round Table. Snawdoun some of the king's servants, it came at is the official title of one of the Scottish length to his majesty's ears, who, shortly heralds, whose epithets seem in all countries thereafter, with a few attendants, came to to have been fantastically adopted from visit his neighbour king, who was in the ancient history or romance. meantime at dinner. King James, having It appears (see Note LXXIV) that the real sent a servant to demand access, was denied name by, which James was actually disthe same by a tall fellow with a battle-axe, tinguished in his private excursions, was the who stood porter at the gate, telling, there Goodman of Ballenguich; derived from a could be no access till dinner was over. This steep pass leading up to the Castle of answer not satisfying the king, he sent to Stirling, so called. But the epithet would demand access a second time; upon which not have suited poetry, and would besides at he was desired by the porter to desist, once, and prematurely, have announced the otherwise he would find cause to repent his plot to many of my countrymen, among rudeness. His majesty finding this method whom the traditional stories above mentioned would not do, desired'the porter to tell his are still current.

Rokeby.

TO

JOHN B. S. MORRITT, ESQ.,

THIS POEM,

THE SCENE OF WHICH IS LAI) IN HIS BEAUTIFUL DEMESNE OF ROKEBY,

IS INSCRIBED, IN TOKEN OF SIXCERE FRIENDSHIP, BY

WALTER SCOTT.

The Scene of this Poem is laid at Rokeby, near Greta Bridge, in Yorkshire, and shiits to the adjacent fortress of Barnard Castle, and to other places in that vicinity:

The Time occupied by the Action is a space of Five Days, Three of which are supposed to elapse between the end of the Fifth and beginning of the Sixth Canto.

The date of the supposed events is immediately subsequent to the great Battle of Marston Moor, July 3, 1644., This period of public confusion has been chosen, without any purpose of combining the Fable with the Military or Political Events of the Civil War, but only as affording a degree of probability to the Fictitious Narrative now presented to the Public

I.

Such varied hues the warder sees
Canto First.

Reflected from the woodland Tees,
Then from old Baliol's tower looks

forth, The Moon is in her summer glow,

north,

Sees the clouds mustering in the But hoarse and high the breezes blow, And, racking o'er her face, the cloud IIcars, upon turret-roof and wall, Varies the tincture of her shroud; By fits the plashing rain-drop fall, On Barnard's towers, and Tees's Lists to the breeze's boding sound, strcam,

And wraps his shaggy mantle round. She changes as a guilty dream, When conscience, with remorse and Those towers, which in the changeful fear,

gleam Goads sleeping fancy's wild carcer. Throw murky shadows on the stream, Herlight seems now the blush of shame, , Those towers of Barnard hold a guest, Seems now fierce anger's darker flame. The emotions of whose troubledbreast, Shifting that shade, to come and go, In wild and strange confusion driven, Like apprehension's hurried glow; Rival the flitting rack of heaven. Then sorrow's livery dims the air, | Ere sleep stern Oswald's senses tied, And dies in darkness, like despair. Oft had he changed his weary side,

II.

1

1

sun

V.

III.

Composed his limbs, and vainly sought And envying think, how, when the
By effort strong to banish thought.
Sleep came at length, but with a train Bids the poor soldier's watch be done,
Of feelings true and fancies vain, Couch'd on his straw, and fancy.free,
Mingling, in wild disorder cast, He sleeps like careless infancy.
The expected future with the past.
Conscience, anticipating time,
Already rues the enacted crime,

Far town-ward sounds a distant tread, And calls her furies forth, to shake And Oswald, starting from his bed, The sounding scourge and hissing Hath caught it, though no human ear, snake;

Unsharpen'd by revenge and fear, While her poor victim's outward throes Could e'er distinguish horse's clank Bcar witness to his mental woes,

Until it reach'd the castle bank. And show what lesson may be read Now nigh and plain the sound appears, Beside a sinner's restless bed. The warder's challenge now he hears,

Then clanking chains and levers tell Thus Oswald's labouring feelings trace

That o'er the moat the drawbridge fell, Strange changes in his sleeping face,

And, in the castle court below,

Voices are heard, and torches glow, Rapid and ominous as these With which the moonbeams tinge the As marshalling the stranger's way Tees.

Straight for the room where Oswald There might be seen of shame the blush,

lay; There anger's dark and fiercer flush,

The cry was,—“Tidings from the host, While the perturbed sleeper's hand

Of weight--a messenger comes post.' Seem'd grasping dagger-knife,

Stifling the tumult of his breast, brand.

or

His answer Oswald thus express'dRelax'd that grasp, the heavy sigh,

• Bring food and wine, and trim the The tear in the half-opening eye, The pallid check and brow, confess'd

Admit the stranger, and retire.' That grief was busy in his breast;

VI. Nor paused that mood—a sudden start. The stranger came with heavy stride, Impell’d the life-blood from the heart: The morion's plumes his visage hide, Features convulsed, and mutterings And the buff-coat, an ample fold, dread,

Mantles his form's gigantic mould. Show terror reigns in sorrow's stead.

Full slender answer deigned he That pang the painful slumber broke,

To Oswald's anxious courtesy, And Oswald with a start awoke.

But mark'd, by a disdainful smile,

lle saw and scorn'd the petty wile, He woke, and fear'd again to close When Oswald changed the torch's His eyelids in such dire repose ;

place, He woke,--to watch the lamp, and tell Anxious that on the soldier's face From hour to hour the castle-bell, Its partial lustre might be thrown, Or listen to the owlet's cry,

To show his looks, yet hide his own. Or the sad breeze that whistles by, I'Iis guest, the while, laid low aside Or catch, by fits, the tuneless rhyme The ponderous cloak of tough bull's With which the warder cheats the time, hide,

fire ;

IV.

IX.

VII.

And to the torch glanced broad and That lip had terror never blench'd ; clcar

Ne'er in that eye had tear-drop The corslet of a cuirassier;

quench'd Then from his brows the casque he The flash severe of swarthy glow, drew,

That mock'd at pain, and knew not woe. And from the dank plume dash'd the Inured to danger's direst form, dew,

Tornade and earthquake, flood and From gloves of mail relieved his hands, storm, Andspread them to the kindling brands, I)cath had he seen by sudden blow, Ind, turning to the genial board, By wasting plague, by tortures slow, Without a health, or pledge, or word ; By mine or breach, by steel or ball, Of meet and social reverence said, Knew all his shapes, and scorn'd them Deeply he drank, and fiercely fed ;

all. As free from ceremony's sway, As famish'd wolf that tears his prey. But yet, though Bertran's harden'd

look,

L'nmoved, could blood and danger With dcepimpaticnce, tinged with fear, brook, His host beheld him gorge his cheer, Still worse than apathy had place And quaff the full carouse, that lent On his swart brow and callous face; His brow a fiercer hardiment.

For evil passions, cherish'd long, Now Oswald stood a space aside, llad plough'd them with impressions Now paced the room with hasty stride,

strong. In feverish agony to learn

All that gives gloss to sin, all gay Tidings of deep and dread concern, Light folly, past with youth away, Cursing cach moment that his guest But rooted stood, in manhood's hour, Protracted o'er his ruffian feast. The weeds of vice without their flower. Yet, viewing with alarm, at last, And yet the soil in which they grew, The end of that uncouth repast, llad it been tamed when life was new, Almost he seem'd their haste to rue, | llad depth and vigour to bring forth As, at his sign, his train withdrew, The hardier fruits of virtuous worth. And left him with the stranger, free Not that, c'en then, his heart had To question of his mystery.

known Then did his silence long proclaim The gentler feelings' kindly tone; A struggle between fear and shame. But lavish waste had been refined VIII.

To bounty in his chasten d mind,

And lust of gold, that waste to feel, Much in the stranger's mien appears Been lost in love of glory's meed, To justify suspicious fears.

And, frantic then no more, liis pride On his dark face a scorching clime, Had ta'en fair virtue for its guide. And toil, had done the work of time, Roughen’dthebrow, thetemples bared, And sable hairs with silver shared, Even now, by conscienceunrestrain'd. Yet left-what age alone could tame-- Clogg'd by gross vice, by slaughter The lip of pride, the eye of flame;

stain 'd, The full-drawn lip that upward curl'd, ' Still knew his daring soul to soar, Theeye, thatseem'd to scorn the world. ; And mastery o'er the mind he bore;

X.

now

For meaner guilt, or heart less hard, Flourish'd the trumpets fierce, and
Quail'dbeneath Bertram's bold regard.
And this felt Oswald, while in vain Fired was each eye, and flush'd each
He strove, by many a winding train, brow;
To lure his sullen guest to show, On either side loud clamours ring,
Unask'd, the news he long'd to know, “God and the Cause!"-"God and
While on far other subject hung

XI.

the King!” His heart, than falter'd from his tongue. Right English all, they rush'd to blows, Yet nought for that his guest did deign With nought to win, and all to lose. To note or spare his secret pain, I could have laugh’d—but lack'd the But still, in stern and stubborn sort,

timeReturn’d him answer dark and short, To see, in phrenesy sublime, Or started from the theme, to range How the fierce zealots fought and bled In loose digression wild and strange, For king or state, as humour led; And forced the embarrass'd host tobuy, Some for a dream of public good, By query close, direct reply.

Some for church-tippet, gown, and

hood, A while he glozed upon the cause

Draining their veins, in death to claim Of Commons, Covenant, and Laws,

A patriot's or a martyr's name. And Church Reform'd-- but felt rebuke Led Bertram Risingham the hearts, Beneath grim Bertram's sneering look, That counter'd there on adverse parts, Then stammer'd – Has a field been No superstitious fool had I fought ?

Sought El Dorados in the sky! Has Bertram news of battle brought ? | Chili had heard me through her states, For sure a soldier, famed so far

And Lima oped her silver gates, In foreign fields for feats of war,

Rich Mexico I had march'd through, On eve of fight ne'er left the host

And sack'd the splendours of Peru, Until the field were won and lost.'

Till sunk Pizarro's daring name, “Here, in your towers by circling Tees, And, Cortez, thine, in Bertram’s fame.' You, Oswald Wycliffe, rest at ease;

'Still from the purpose wilt thou stray! Why deem it strange that others come

Good gentle friend, how went the day?' To share such safe and easy home,

XIII. From fields where danger, death, and toil,

*Good am I deem'd at trumpet-sound, Are the reward of civil broil ?'

! And good where goblets dance the • Nay, mock not, friend! since well

round, we know

Though gentle ne'er was join'd, till The near advances of the foe,

now, To mar our northern army's work,

With rugged Bertram's breast and

brow. Encamp'd before beleaguer'd York;

But I resume. The battle's rage
Thy horse with valiant Fairfax lay,
And must have fought; how went the

Was like the strife which currents day?'

wage

Where Orinoco, in his pride, "Wouldst hear the tale? On Marston Rolls to the main no tribute tide, heath

But 'gainst broad ocean urges far Met, front to front, the ranks of death; | A rival sea of roaring war;

1

XII.

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