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I learned them in the lonely glen,
The last abodes of living men,
Where never stranger came our way
By summer night, or winter day;
Where neighboring hind or cot was none
Our converse was with heaven alone-
With voices through the cloud that sung,
And brooding storms that round us hung;
0, lady, judge, if judge we may,
How stern and ample was the sway
Of themes like these, when darkness fell,
And gray-haired sires the tales would tell
When doors were barred, and elder dame
Plied at her task beside the flame,
That, through the smoke and gloom alone,
On dim and umbered faces shone,-
The bleat of mountain goat on high,
That from the cliff came quivering by;
The echoing rock, the rushing flood,
The cataract's swell, the moaning wood;
The undefined and mingled hum-
Voice of the desert never dumb!
All these have left within this heart
A feeling tongue can ne'er impart;
A wildered and unearthly flame,
A something that's without a name.

3. Hogg was descended from a family of shepherds, and vui us. us he alleged (though the point was often disputed), on the 25th January (Burns's birthday), in the year 1772. When a mere child he was put out to service, acting first as a cow-herd, until capable of taking care of a flock of sheep. He had in all about half a year's schooling. When eighteen years of age, he entered the service of Mr. Laidlaw, Blackhouse. He was then an eager reader of poeti y and romances, and he subscribed to a circulating library in Peebles, the miscellaneous contents of which he perused with tb e utmost avidity.

4. He was a remarkably fine-looking young man, with a profusion of light-brown hair, which he wore coiled up under his hat or blue bonnet, the envy of all the country maidens. An

attack of illness, however, brought on by over exertion on a hot summer day, completely altered his countenance, and changed the

very form of his features. His first literary effort was in song writing, and, in 1801, he published a small volume of pioses. He was introduced to Sir Walter Scott by his master's son, Mr. William Laidlaw, and assisted in the collection of old ballads for the Border Minstrelsy. He soon imitated the style of these ancient strains with great felicity, and published another volume of songs and poems under the title of the Mountain Bard.

5. He now embarked in sheep farming, and took a journey to the island of Lewis on a speculation of this kind; but all he had saved as a shepherd, or by his publication, was lost in these attempts. He then repaired to Edinburgh, and endeavored to subsist by his pen. A collection of songs, The Forest Minstrel, was his first effort; his second was a periodical called The Spy; but it was not till the publication of the Queen's Wake, in 1813, that the Shepherd established his reputation as an author.

6. This legendary poem consists of a collection of tales and ballads, supposed to be sung to Mary, Queen of Scots, by the native bards of Scotland, assembled at a royal wake at Holyrood, in order that the fair queen might prove

" The wondrous power of Scottish song."

The design was excellent, and the execution so varied and masterly, that Hogg was at once placed among the first of our living poets. The different productions of the native minstrels are strung together by a thread of narrative so gracefully written in many parts, that the reader is surprised equally at the delicacy and the genius of the author.

7. At the conclusion of the poem, Hogg alludes to his illustrious friend Scott, and adverts with some feeling to an advice which Sir Walter had once given him, to abstain from bis worship of poetry :

" The land was charmed to list his lays;

It knew the harp of ancient days.

The border chiefs that long had been
In sepulchers, unhearsed and green,
Passed from their moldy vaults away,
In armor red and stern array,
And, by their moonlight halls, were seen
In visor, helm, and habergeon, *
Even fairies sought our land again,

So powerful was the magic strain.
8 Blest be his generous heart for aye !

He told me where the relic lay;
Pointed my way with ready will
Afar on Ettrick's wildest hill;
Watched my first notes with curious eye,
And wondered at my minstrelsy:
He little weened a parent's tongue

Such strains had o'er my cradle sung.
9. But, when to native feelings true,

I struck upon a chord was new;
When by myself I'gan to play,
He tried to wile my harp away.
Just when her notes began with skill;
To sound beneath the southern hill,
And twine around my bosom's core,
How could we part for evermore?
'Twas kindness all-I cannot blame-
For bootless is the minstrel flame:
But sure a bard might well have known
Another's feelings by his own !"

10. His love of angling and field-sports amounted to a passion, and, when he could no longer fish or hunt, he declared his belief that his death was near. In the autumn of 1835, he was attacked with a dropsical complaint; and, on the 21st November of that year, after some days of insensibility, he breathed his last as calmly, and with as little pain, as he ever fell asleep in his gray plaid on the hill-side. His death was deeply mourned in the vale of Ettrick, for all rejoiced in his fame; and, notwithstanding his personal foibles, the Shepherd was generous, kind-hearted, and charitable far beyond his means.

* Habergeon (ha berl je on), armor to cover the neck and breast


MARY STUART, Queen of Scots, was born in the palace of Linlithgow, in Dec. 1542, and was beheaded at Fotheringay Castle, in Northamptonshire, England, Feb. 8th, 1587. She was betrothed to the dauphin of France, son of Henry II., and sailed for that country Aug. 7th, 1548. She was kindly received by Henry II., and treated as a daughter. In France she received a brilliant edacation. She was married to the dauphin April 24th, 1558. Upon the death of Henry II., in 1559, Mary became Queen of France. But, in 1560, not quite seventeen months after she was made queen, her husband, Francis II., died. After his death, she resolved to return to Scotland. She embarked at Calais Aug. 14th, 1561, and arrived at Leith on the 19th of the same month. This is the LANDING OF QUEEN MARY, 80 beautifully sung in the following piece.




After a youth, by woes o'ercast,
After a thousand sorrows past,
The lovely Mary once again
Set foot upon her native plain.
Kneeled on the pier with modest grace,
And turned to heaven her beauteous face.
'Twas then the caps in air were blended,
A thousand, thousand shouts ascended;
Shivered the breeze around the throng;
Gray barrier cliffs the peals prolong :
And every tongue gave thanks to Heaven,
That Mary to their hopes was given


Her comely form, and graceful mien,
Bespoke the Lady and the Queen;
The woes of one so fair and

ed every heart, and every tongue;
Driven from her home, a helpless child,
To brave the winds and billows wild;
An exile bred in realms afar
Amid commotions, broils, and war,

In one short

year her hopes all crossed,
A parent, husband, kingdom lost !
And all ere eighteen years had shed
Their honors o'er her royal head.
For such a Queen, the Stuart's heir,
A Queen so courteous, young, and fair

Who would not every foe defy ?
Who would not stand? Who would not die



Light on her airy steed she

sprung, Around with golden tassels hung; No chieftain there rode half so free, Or half so light and gracefully. How sweet to see her ringlets pale Wide waving in the southland gale, Which, through the broom-wood blossoms, flew To fan her cheeks of rosy hue ! Whene'er it heaved her bosom's screen, What beauties in her form were seen ! And when her courser's mane it swung, A thousand silver bells were rung. A sight so fair, on Scottish plain, A Scot shall never see again.


When Mary turned her wondering eyes
On rocks that seemed to prop the skies,
On palace, park, and battled pile,-
On lake, on river, sea, and isle,-
O’er woods and meadows bathed in dew,
To distant mountains wild and blue, -
She thought the isle that gave her birth,
The sweetest, wildest land on earth.

Slowly, she ambled on her way,
Amid her lords and ladies gay.

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