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"At merry feast, or buxom chase,
No more the warrior shalt thou see.
"Few suns have set, since Woodhouselee4
Saw Bothwellhaugh's bright goblets foam,
When to his hearths, in social glee,

The war-worn soldier turned him home.
"There, wan from her maternal throes,
His Margaret, beautiful and mild,
Sate in her bower, a pallid rose,

And peaceful nursed her new-born child.
"O change accurst! past are those days;
False Murray's ruthless spoilers came,
And, for the hearth's domestic blaze,

Ascends destruction's volumed flame. "What sheeted phantom wanders wild, Where mountain Eske thro' woodland flows, Her arms enfold a shadowy child! Oh is it she, the pallid rose? "The wildered traveller sees her glide, And hears her feeble voice with awe; 'Revenge,' she cries, on Murray's pride! And wo for injured Bothwellhaugh!' He ceased; and cries of rage and grief Burst mingling from the kindred band, And half arose the kindling chief,

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And half unsheathed his Arran brand. But who, o'er bush, o'er stream, and rock, Rides headlong, with resistless speed, Whose bloody poniard's frantic stroke Drives to the leap his jaded steed?5 Whose cheek is pale, whose eye-balls glare, As one some visioned sight that saw, Whose hands are bloody, loose his hair? -'Tis he! 'tis he! 'tis Bothwellhaugh! From gory selle,* and reeling steed, Sprung the fierce horseman with a bound, And, reeking from the recent deed,

He dashed his carbine on the ground.
Sternly he spoke: ""Tis sweet to hear,
In good green-wood, the bugle blown;
But sweeter to revenge's ear,

To drink a tyrant's dying groan.
"Your slaughtered quarry proudly trod,
At dawning morn, o'er dale and down,
But prouder base-born Murray rode

Through old Linlithgow's crowded town.
"From the wild border's humbled side,
In haughty triumph marched he,6
While Knox relaxed his bigot pride,

And smiled, the traitorous pomp to see. "But can stern Power, with all his vaunt, Or Pomp, with all her courtly glare, The settled heart of Vengeance daunt, Or change the purpose of Despair? "With hackbut bent,† my secret stand,7 Dark as the purposed deed, I chose, And marked, where, mingling in his band, Trooped Scottish pikes and English bows. "Dark Morton, girt with many a spear,s Murder's foul minion, led the van; And clashed their broadswords in the rear, The wild Macfarlane's plaided clan.9

"Glencairn and stout Parkhead were nigh,

Obsequious at their regent's rein, 10 And haggard Lindsay's iron eye,

That saw fair Mary weep in vain.II "Mid pennoned spears, a steely grove, Proud Murray's plumage floated high; Scarce could his trampling charger move, So close the minions crowded nigh. 12 "From the raised vizor's shade, his eye,

Dark rolling, glanced the ranks along,
And his steel truncheon, waved on high,
Seemed marshalling the iron throng.
"But yet his saddened brow confessed
A passing shade of doubt and awe;
Some fiend was whispering in his breast,
Beware of injured Bothwellhaugh!"
"The death-shot parts, the charger springs,
Wild rises tumult's startling roar!
And Murray's plumy helmet rings,-
Rings on the ground, to rise no more.
"What joy the raptured youth can feel,

To hear her love the loved one tell,
Or, he who broaches on his steel
The wolf, by whom his infant fell!
"But dearer to my injured eye,

To see in dust proud Murray roll;
And mine was ten times trebled joy,
To hear him groan his felon soul.
"My Margaret's spectre glided near;

With pride her bleeding victim saw; And shrieked in his death-deafened ear,

Remember injured Bothwellhaugh!" "Then speed thee, noble Chatelrault!

Spread to the wind thy bannered tree! Each warrior bend his Clydesdale bow! Murray is fallen, and Scotland free!" Vaults every warrior to his steed;

Loud bugles join their wild acclaim,"Murray is fallen and Scotland freed! Couch, Arran! couch thy spear of flame!" But, see! the minstrel vision fails, The glimmering spears are seen no more; The shouts of war die on the gales,

Or sink in Evan's lonely roar. For the loud bugle, pealing high,

The blackbird whistles down the vale, And sunk in ivied ruins lie

The bannered towers of Evandale. For chiefs intent on bloody deed,

And Vengeance shouting o'er the sain, Lo! high-born Beauty rules the steed, Or graceful guides the silken rein. And long may Peace and Pleasure own The maids, who list the minstrel's tale; Nor e'er a ruder guest be known

On the fair banks of Evandale!


1. First of his troop, the chief rode on.-P. 407. The head of the family of Hamilton, at this pe riod, was James, earl of Arran, duke of Chatelherault in France, and first peer of the Scottish realm. In 1569, he was appointed by queen Mary, her lieutenant-general in Scotland, under the singular

Selle-Saddle. A word used by Spencer, and other title of her adopted father.

ancient authors.

+ Hackbut bent-Gun cooked

2. The mountain bull comes thundering on.-P. 407. "In Caledonia olim frequens erat sylvestris qui

dam bos, nunc vero rarior, qui colore candidissi-
mo, jubam densam et demissam instar leonis ges-
tat, truculentus ac ferus, ab humano genere abhor-
rens, ut quæcunque homines vel manibus contrec-
taverint, vel halitu perflaverint, ab iis multos post
dies omnino abstinuerint. Ad hoc tanta audacia
huic bovi indita erat, ut non solum irritatus equites
furenter prosterneret, sed ne tantillum lacessitus
omnes promiscue homines cornibus, ac ungulis pe-
teret; ac canum, qui apud nos ferocissimi sunt, im-
petus plane contemneret. Ejus carnes cartilagino-
se sed saporis suavissimi. Erat is olim per illam
vastissimam Caledonia sylvam frequens, sed hu-
mana ingluvie jam assumptus tribus tantum locis
est reliquus, Strivilingii, Cumbernaldiæ, et Kin-
carniæ."-Leslæus, Scotiæ Descriptio, p. 13.
3. Stern Claud replied, with darkening face

(Gray Pasley's haughty lord was he.)-P. 407.
Lord Claud Hamilton, second son of the duke
of Chatelherault, and commendator of the abbey
of Paisley, acted a distinguished part during the
troubles of queen Mary's reign, and remained un-
alterably attached to the cause of that unfortunate
princess. He led the van of her army at the fatal
battle of Langside, and was one of the commanders
at the Raid of Stirling, which had so nearly given
complete success to the queen's faction.
ancestor to the present marquis of Abercorn.

He was

Whair na prince lay thir hundred yeiris before,
Nae thief durst stir, they did him feir so sair;
And, that they suld na mair thair thift alledge,
Threescore and twelf he brocht of thame in pledge,
Syne wardit thame, whilk made the rest keep ordour,
Than mycht the rasch-bus keep ky on the bordour.

Scottish Poems, 16th century, p. 232.

7. With hackbut bent, my secret stand.-P. 408. The carabine, with which the regent was shot, is preserved at Hamilton palace. It is a brass piece, of a middling length, very small in the bore, and, what is rather extraordinary, appears to have been rifled or indented in the barrel. It had a matchlock, for which a modern firelock has been injudiciously substituted.

8. Dark Morton, girt with many a spear.-P. 408. Of this noted person it is enough to say, that he was active in the murder of David Rizzio, and at least privy to that of Darnley.

9. The wild Macfarlane's plaided clan.-P. 408. This clan of Lennox highlanders were attached to the regent Murray. Holinshead, speaking of the battle of Langside, says, "In this batayle the valiance of an hieland gentleman, named Macfarlane, stood the regent's part in great steede; for, in the hottest brunte of the fighte, he came up with two hundred of his friendes and countrymen, and so manfully gave in upon the flankes of the queene's people, that he was a great cause of the disorder4. Few suns have set, since Woodhouselee.-P. 408. ing of them. This Macfarlane had been lately beThis barony, stretching along the banks of the fore, as I have heard, condemned to die, for some Esk, near Auchendinny, belonged to Bothwell- outrage by him committed, and obtayning parhaugh, in right of his wife. The ruins of the man- don through suyt of the countess of Murray, he sion, from whence she was expelled in the brutal recompensed that clemencie by this piece of sermanner which occasioned her death, are still to vice now at this batayle." Calderwood's account be seen in a hollow glen beside the river. Popu- is less favourable to the Macfarlanes. He states, lar report tenants them with the restless ghost that "Macfarlane, with his highlandmen, fled of the lady Bothwellhaugh; whom, however, it from the wing where they were set. The lord confounds with lady Anne Bothwell, whose La- Lindesay, who stood nearest to them in the regent's ment is so popular. This spectre is so tenacious battle, said, let them go! I shall fill their places of her rights, that, a part of the stones of the an- better:' and so stepping forward with a company cient edifice having been employed in building or of fresh men, charged the enemy, whose spears repairing the present Woodhouselee, she has were now spent, with long weapons, so that they deemed it a part of her privilege to haunt that were driven back by force, being before almost house also; and, even of very late years, has ex- overthrown by the avant guard and harquebusiers, cited considerable disturbance and terror among and so were turned to flight." Calderwood's MS. the domestics. This is a more remarkable vindi- apud Keith, page 480. Melville meutions the cation of the rights of ghosts, as the present Wood-flight of the vanguard, but states it to have been houselee, which gives his title to the honourable commanded by Morton, and composed chiefly of Alexander Fraser Tytler, a senator of the college commoners of the barony of Renfrew. of justice, is situated on the slope of the Pentland bills, distant at least four miles from her proper abode. She always appears in white, and with a child in her arms.

5. Whose bloody poniard's frantic stroke,

Drives to the leap his jaded steed.-P. 408. Birrell informs us, that Bothwellhaugh, being closely pursued, "after that spur and wand had failed him, he drew forth his dagger, and strocke his horse behind, whilk caused the horse to leap a verey brode stank, (i. e. ditch,) by whilk means he escapit, and gat away from all the rest of the horses."-Birrel's Diary, p. 18.

6. From the wild border's humbled side,

In haughty triumph marched he.-P. 408. Murray's death took place shortly after an expedition to the borders; which is thus commemorated by the author of his elegy.

"So having stabliseht all thing in this sort,
To Liddisdail! again he did resort,

Throw Ewisdail, Eskdail, and all the daills rode he,
And also lay three mights in Cannabie.

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10. Glencairn and stout Parkhead were nigh, Obsequious at their regent's rein.-P. 408. The earl of Glencairn was a steady adherent of the regent. George Douglas, of Parkhead, was a natural brother of the earl of Morton: his horse was killed by the same ball by which Murray fell. 11. And haggard Lindsay's iron eye,

That saw fair Mary weep in vain.-P. 408. Lord Lindesay, of the Byres, was the most ferocious and brutal of the regent's faction; and, as such, was employed to extort Mary's signature to the deed of resignation, presented to her in Lochleven castle. He discharged his commission with the most savage rigour; and it is even said, that when the weeping captive, in the act of signing, averted her eyes from the fatal deed, he pinched her arm with the grasp of his iron glove.

12. Scarce could his trampling charger move,
So close the minions crowded nigh.-P. 408.
Richard Bannatyne mentions in his journal, that
John Knox repeatedly warned Murray to avoid

With that infatuation, at which men wonder after such events have happened, he deemed it would be a sufficient precaution to ride briskly past the dangerous spot. But even this was prevented by the crowd: so that Bothwellhaugh had time to take a deliberate aim.-Spottiswoode, p. 233. Bu




Not only had the regent notice of the intended his barn. After he came in, he halted a little, attempt upon his life, but even of the very house leaning upon a chair-back, with his face covered; from which it was threatened. when he lifted up his head, he said, 'There are in this house that I have not one word of salvation unto;' he halted a little again, saying, 'This is strange, that the devil will not go out, that we may begin our work!' Then there was a woman went out, ill looked upon almost all her life, and to her dying hour, for a witch, with many presumptions of the same. It escaped me, in the former passages, that John Muirhead (whom I have often mentioned) told me, that when he came from Ireland to Galloway, he was at family worship, and giving some notes upon the Scripture, when a very ill looking man came, and sat down within the door, at the back of the hallan: (partition of the cottage:) immediately he halted, and said, There is some unhappy body just now come into this house. I charge him to go out, and not stop my mouth.' The person went out, and he insisted, (went on,) yet he saw him neither come in nor go out."-The Life and Prophecies of Mr. Alexander Peden, late Minister of the Gospel a New Glenluce, in Galloway, part ii, section 26. THE pope he was saying the high, high mass, All on saint Peter's day,

THE imperfect state of this ballad, which was written several years ago, is not a circumstance affected for the purpose of giving it that peculiar interest, which is often found to arise from ungratified curiosity. On the contrary, it was the author's intention to have completed the tale, if he had found himself able to succeed to his own satisfaction. Yielding to the opinion of persons, whose judgment, if not biassed by the partiality of friendship, is entitled to deference, the author has preferred inserting these verses, as a fragment, to his intention of entirely suppressing them.

The tradition, upon which the tale is founded, regards a house, upon the barony of Gilmerton, near Lasswade, in Mid-Lothian. This building, now called Gilmerton-Grange, was originally named Burndale, from the following tragic adventure. The barony of Gilmerton belonged, of yore, to a gentleman, named Heron, who had one beautiful daughter. This young lady was seduced by the abbot of Newbottle, a richly endowed abbey, upon the banks of the South Esk, now a seat of the marquis of Lothian. Heron came to the knowledge of this circumstance, and learned, also, that the lovers carried on their guilty intercourse by the connivance of the lady's nurse, who lived at this house, of Gilmerton-Grange, or Burndale. He formed a resolution of bloody vengeance, undeterred by the supposed sanctity of the clerical character, or by the stronger claims of natural affection. Choosing, therefore, a dark and windy night, when the objects of his vengeance were engaged in a stolen interview, he set fire to a stack of dried thorns, and other combustibles, which he had caused to be piled against the house, and reduced to a pile of glowing ashes the dwelling, with all its inmates.

The scene, with which the ballad opens, was suggested by the following curious passage, extracted from the life of Alexander Peden, one of the wandering and persecuted teachers of the sect of Cameronians, during the reign of Charles II, and his successor, James. This person was supposed by his followers, and, perhaps, really believed himself, to be possessed of supernatural gifts; for the wild scenes, which they frequented, and the constant dangers, which were incurred through their proscription, deepened upon their minds the gloom of superstition, so general in that age.

"About the same time he (Peden) came to Andrew Normand's house, in the parish of Alloway, in the shire of Ayr, being to preach at night in

This tradition was communicated to me by John Clerk, esq. of Eldin, author of an Essay upon Naval Tactics; who will be remembered by posterity, as having taught the genius of Britain to concentrate her thunders, and to lanch them against her foes with an unerring aim.

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With the power to him given, by the saints in heaven,

To wash men's sins away.

The pope he was saying the blessed mass,

And the people kneeled around;
And from each man's soul his sins did pass,
As he kissed the holy ground.
And all, among the crowded throng,
Was still, both limb and tongue,
While through vaulted roof, and aisles aloof,
The holy accents rung.

At the holiest word he quivered for fear,
And faltered in the sound;
And, when he would the chalice rear,
He dropped it on the ground.
"The breath of one, of evil deed,
Pollutes our sacred day;
He has no portion in our creed,
No part in what I say.
"A being, whom no blessed word
To ghostly peace can bring;
A wretch, at whose approach abhorred,
Recoils each holy thing.


Up, up, unhappy! haste, arise!
My adjuration fear!

charge thee not to stop my voice,
Nor longer tarry here!"
Amid them all a pilgrim kneeled,
In gown of sackcloth gray;
Far journeying from his native field,

He first saw Rome that day.
For forty days and nights so drear,
1 ween, he had not spoke,
And, save with bread and water clear,
His fast he ne'er had broke.

Amid the penitential flock,

Seemed none more bent to pray;
But, when the holy father spoke,
He rose, and went his way.
Again unto his native land,

His weary course he drew,

To Lothian's fair and fertile strand,

And Pentland's mountains blue.

His unblest feet his native seat,

Mid Eske's fair woods, regain;

Through woods more fair no stream more sweet
Rolls to the eastern main.

And lords to meet the pilgrim came,

And vassals bent the knee;
For all 'mid Scotland's chiefs of fame,
Was none more famed than he.

And boldly for his country still,

In battle he had stood,

Ay, even when, on the banks of Till,
Her noblest poured their blood.
Sweet are the paths, O, passing sweet!
By Eske's fair streams that run,
O'er airy steep, through copse-wood deep,
Impervious to the sun.

There the rapt poet's step may rove,
And yield the muse the day;

There Beauty, led by timid Love,
May shun the tell-tale ray:

From that fair dome, where suit is paid
By blast of bugle free,1
To Auchendinny's hazel glade,2

And haunted Woodhouselee.3

Who knows not Melville's beechy grove,♦
And Roslin's rocky glen,5
Dalkeith, which all the virtues love,6

And classic Hawthornden?7

Yet never a path, from day to day,
The pilgrim's footsteps range,
Save but the solitary way

To Burndale's ruined Grange.
A woful place was that, I ween,

As sorrow could desire;

For, nodding to the fall was each crumbling wall,
And the roof was scathed with fire.

It fell upon a summer's eve,

While, on Carnethy's head,

The last faint gleams of the sun's low beams
Had streaked the gray with red;

And the convent bell did vespers tell,

Newbottle's oaks among,

And mingled with the solemn knell
Our ladye's evening song;

The heavy knell, the choir's faint swell,
Came slowly down the wind,
And on the pilgrim's ear they fell,
As his wonted path he did find.
Deep sunk in thought, I ween, he was,
Nor ever raised his eye,

Until he came to that dreary place,
Which did all in ruins lie.

He gazed on the wall, so scathed with fire,
With many a bitter groan;
And there was aware of a gray friar,
Resting him on a stone.

"Now, Christ thee save!" said the Gray Brother;
"Some pilgrim thou seemest to be."
But in sore amaze did lord Albert gaze,
Nor answer again made he.

"O come ye from east, or come ye from west,
Or bring relics from over the sea,

Or come ye from the shrine of St. James the divine,
Or saint John of Beverley?"

"I come not from the shrine of saint James the


Nor bring relics from over the sea;

I bring but a curse from our father, the pope,
Which for ever will cling to me."

"Now, woful pilgrim, say not so!
But kneel thee down by me,

And shrive thee so clean of thy deadly sin,
That absolved thou may'st be."

"And who art thou, thou gray brother,

That I should shrive to thee,

When he, to whom are given the keys of earth
and heaven,

Has no power to pardon me?"
"OI am sent from a distant clime,
Five thousand miles away,

And all to absolve a foul, foul crime,
Done here 'twixt night and day.'
The pilgrim kneeled him on the sand,
And thus began his saye-

When on his neck an ice-cold hand
Did that Gray Brother laye.


1. From that fair dome, where suit is paid
By blast of bugle free.-P. 411.

The barony of Pennycuik, the property of sir George Clerk, bart., is held by a singular tenure; the proprietor being bound to sit upon a large rocky fragment, called the Buck stane, and wind three blasts of a horn, when the king shall come to hunt on the Borough Muir, near Edinburgh. Hence, the family have adopted, as their crest, a demi-forester proper, winding a horn, with the motto, Free for a Blast. The beautiful mansionhouse of Pennycuik is much admired, both on account of the architecture and surrounding scenery. 2. To Auchendinny's hazel glade.-P. 411. Auchendinny, situated upon the Eske, below Pennycuik, the present residence of the ingenious H. Mackenzie, esq. author of The Man of Feeling,


3. And haunted Woodhouselee.-P

For the traditions connected with this ruinous mansion, see Notes to the ballad of Cadyow Cas tle, p. 409.

4. Who knows not Melville's beechy grove.-P. 411. Melville castle, the seat of the honourable Robert Dundas, member for the county of Mid-Lothian, is delightfully situated upon the Eske, near Lasswade. It gives the title of viscount to his father, lord Melville.

5. And Roslin's rocky glen.-P. 411. The ruins of Roslin castle, the baronial residence of the ancient family of St. Clair. The Gothic chapel, which is still in beautiful preservation, with the romantic and woody dell, in which they are situated, belong to the right honourable the earl of Rosslyn, the representative of the former lords of Roslin.

6. Dalkeith, which all the virtues love.-P. 411. The village and castle of Dalkeith belonged, of old, to the famous earl of Morton, but is now the residence of the noble family of Buccleuch. The park extends along the Eske, which is there joined by its sister stream of the same name.

7. And classic Hawthornden.-P. 411. Hawthornden, the residence of the poet Drum


mond. A house of more modern date is enclosed, The pure stream runs muddy; the gay hope is gone; as it were, by the ruins of the ancient castle, and Count Albert is prisoner on mount Lebanon." overhangs a tremendous precipice, upon the banks O she's ta'en a horse, should be fleet at her speed; of the Eske, perforated by winding caves, which, And she's ta'en a sword, should be sharp at her in former times, formed a refuge to the oppressed patriots of Scotland. Here Drummond received Ben Jonson, who journeyed from London, on foot, in order to visit him. The beauty of this striking scene has been much injured, of late years, by the indiscriminate use of the axe. The traveller now looks in vain for the leafy bower,

"Where Jonson sate in Drummond's social shade,"

Upon the whole, tracing the Eske from its source, till it joins the sea, at Musselburgh, no stream in Scotland can boast such a varied succession of the most interesting objects, as well as of the most romantic and beautiful scenery.


"The blessings of the evil genii, which are curses, were
upon him."
Eastern Tale.

THIS ballad was written at the request of Mr. Lewis, to be inserted in his Tales of Wonder. It is the third in a series of four ballads, on the subject of Elementary Spirits. The story is, however, partly historical; for it is recorded, that, during the struggles of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, a knight templar, called saint Alban, deserted to the Saracens, and defeated the christians in many combats, till he was finally routed and slain, in a conflict with king Baldwin, under the walls of Je/usalem.

Bold knights and fair dames, to my harp give an ear,
Of love, and of war, and of wonder to hear;
And you haply may sigh, in the midst of your glee,
At the tale of count Albert, and fair Rosalie.
O see you that castle, so strong and so high?
And see you that lady, the tear in her eye?
And see you that palmer from Palestine's land,
The shell on his hat, and the staff in his hand?
"Now palmer, gray palmer, O tell unto me,
What news bring you home from the HolyCountrie?
And how goes the warfare by Galilee's strand?
And how fare our nobles, the flower of the land?"
"O well goes the warfare by Galilee's wave,
For Gilead, and Nablous, and Ramah we have;
And well fare our nobles by Mount Lebanon,
For the heathen have lost, and the christians have

A fair chain of gold mid her ringlets there hung:
O'er the palmer's gray locks the fair chain has she

"O palmer, gray palmer, this chain be thy fee,
For the news thou hast brought from the Holy

"And palmer, good palmer, by Galilee's wave,
O saw ye count Albert, the gentle and brave?
When the crescent went back, and the red-cross
rushed on,

O saw ye him foremost on Mount Lebanon?"
"O lady, fair lady, the tree green it grows;
O lady, fair lady, the stream pure it flows:
Your castle stands strong, and your hopes soar on

But lady, fair lady, all blossoms to die,

"The green boughs they wither, the thunderbolt falls,

It leaves of your castle but levin-scorched walls;

And she has ta'en shipping for Palestine's land,
To ransom count Albert from Soldanrie's hand.
Small thought had count Albert on fair Rosalie,
Small thought on his faith, or his knighthood had he;
A heathenish damsel his light heart had won,
The Soldan's fair daughter of Mount Lebanon.
"O christian, brave christian, my love wouldst
thou be,

Three things must thou do ere I hearken to thee;
Our laws and our worship on thee shalt thou take;
And this thou shalt first do for Zulema's sake.
"And, next, in the cavern, where burns evermore
The mystical flame which the Kurdmans adore,
Alone, and in silence, three nights shalt thou wake;
And this thou shalt next do for Zulema's sake.

"And, last, thou shalt aid us with counsel and

To drive the Frank robber from Palestine's land;
For my lord and my love then count Albert I'll take,
When all this is accomplished for Zulema's sake."
He has thrown by his helmet and cross-handled

Renouncing his knighthood, denying his Lord;
He has ta'en the green caftan, and turban put on,
For the love of the maiden of fair Lebanon.
And in the dread cavern, deep deep under ground,
Which fifty steel gates and steel portals surround,
He has watched until daybreak, but sight saw he

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Far off was their murmur, it came not more nigh, The flame burned unmoved, and nought else did he spy.

Loud murmured the priests, and amazed was the king,

While many dark spells of their witchcraft they

They searched Albert's body, and, lo! on his breast
Was the sign of the cross, by his father impressed.
The priests they erase it with care and with pain,
And the recreant returned to the cavern again;
But, as he descended, a whisper there fell,-
It was his good angel, who bade him farewell!
High bristled his hair, his heart fluttered and beat,
And he turned him five steps, half resolved to re-

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When he thought of the maiden of fair Lebanon. Scarce passed he the archway, the threshold scarce trod,

When the winds from the four points of heaven were abroad;

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