The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight, Though his Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word; Who at Rere-cross on Stanmore meets Allen-a-Dale. Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come; The mother, she asked of his household and home: The father was steel, and the mother was stone; Let us now note the interview of the Last Minstrel with the Duchess : He passed where Newark's stately tower With hesitating step at last The embattled portal-arch he passed, The Duchess marked his weary pace, Though born in such a high degree ;- He had played it to King Charles the Good, And much he wished, yet feared to try Hear his tribute to the Worth of Woman: O woman! in our hours of ease, By the light quivering aspen made, We all remember his fine lines on Patriotism :— Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, This is my own, my native land? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, And doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung. Scattered through his prose writings, we occasionally meet with some of his little songs: here is an admonitory one, from The Antiquary, on Time : "Know'st thou not me?" the Deep Voice cried; "So long enjoyed, so oft misused— Alternate, in thy fickle pride, Desired, neglected, and accused! "Before my breath, like blazing flax, "Redeem mine hours-the space is brief- When Time and thou shalt part forever!" Now for a dainty little Serenade, from The Pirate : Love wakes and weeps, while Beauty sleeps! O for Music's softest numbers, To prompt a theme for Beauty's dream, Through groves of palm sigh gales of balm, While through the gloom comes soft perfume, O wake and live! No dream can give A shadowed bliss the real excelling; And list the tale that love is telling! When Cap His Marmion is replete with glowing and picturesque passages, stirring descriptions, and the tumult and clash of arms. tain Ferguson was serving in the Peninsular war, a copy of this work reached him; and while his men were lying prostrate on the ground, and he kneeling at their head, he read aloud the description of the battle in the sixth canto,—the listening soldiers interrupting him only by a joyous huzza whenever the French shot struck the banks close above them. This incident presents one of the most remarkable instances on record of the power of verse. extract, full of the action and excitement of the when twilight falls upon the scene of conflict : But naught distinct they see: Fell England's arrow-flight like rain; Crests rose, and stooped, and rose again, But as they left the darkening heath, Listen to a brief field;—it is just In headlong charge their horse assailed; To break the Scottish circle deep, That fought around their king. But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, Unbroken was the ring. |