Maintaining still the stern turmoil, Too strong in courage and in might Names that to fear were never known: Ross, Montague, and Mattley came, The bills with spears and axes met, And well did Stewart's actions grace Firmly they kept their ground; The tug of strife to flag begins, Douglas leans on his war-sword now, Bruce, with the pilot's wary eye, Rush on with Highland sword and targe. At once the spears were forward thrown, The foe is fainting fast! Each strike for parent, child, and wife; The battle cannot last!" Viewless essence, thin and bare, Wellnigh melted into air; Still with fondness hovering near, The earthly form thou once didst wear: Pause upon thy pinion's flight, Be thy course to left or right; Be thou doomed to soar or sink, To avenge the deed expelling When the form thou shalt espy Then strange sympathies shall wake, The flesh shall thrill, the nerves shall quake, The wounds renew their clotted flood, And every drop cry-" Blood for blood!" -In The Fair Maid of Perth. MADGE WILDFIRE'S DYING SNATCHES. I. Our work is over-over now, And labor ends when day is done; When Autumn's gone and Winter's come, II. When the fight of grace is fought, When Faith has chased cold Doubt away, And Hope but sickens at delay When Charity, imprisoned here, Longs for a more expanded sphere Doff thy robe of sin and clay; Christian, rise, and come away. III. Proud Maisie is in the wood, walking so early; Sweet Robin sits on the bush, singing so rarely. "Tell me, thou bonny bird, when shall I marry me?" "When six braw gentlemen, kirkward shall carry ye." "Who makes the bridal bed, birdie, say truly?"— "The gray-headed sexton that delves the grave duly ; The glow-worm o'er grave and stone shall light thee steady; The owl from the steeple sing, 'Welcome, proud lady!"" -In The Heart of Midlothian. CORONACH. He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font reappearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no to-morrow! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest. Fleet foot on the correi, Sage council in cumber, Red hand in the foray How sound is thy slumber! Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, -In The Lady of the Lake. Scott's career as a poet lasted from his thirtysecond year to his forty-fourth; his career as a novelist, from his forty-third to his fifty-fourth. Waverley, his first novel, had been commenced as early as 1805; a few chapters were written and then thrown aside. In 1813, by accident, he came across the discarded manuscript, completed it, and sent it to the press, in the same year (1814) in which The Lord of the Isles, the last of his great poems, appeared. It was published anonymously, and gave rise to much conjecture as to its authorship. The "Waverley Novels," as the whole series came to be called, are Waverley (1814); Guy Mannering (1815); The Antiquary, The Black Dwarf, and Old Mortality (1816); Rob Roy and The Heart of Midlothian (1818); The Bride of Lammermoor and the Legend of Montrose (1819); Ivanhoe, The Monastery, and The Abbot (1820); Kenilworth and The Pirate (1821); The Fortunes of Nigel (1822); Peveril of the Peak, Quentin Durward, and St. Ronan's Well (1823); Red Gauntlet (1824); The Betrothed and The Talisman (1825); Woodstock (1826); The Two Drovers, The Highland Widow, and The Surgeon's Daughter (1827); The Fair Maid of Perth (1828); Anne of Geierstein, or the Maid of the Mist (1829); Count Robert of Paris, and Castle Dangerous (1831). A BOUT AT LUCKIE MACLEARY'S. In full expectation of her distinguished guests, Luckie Macleary had swept her house for the first time this fortnight, tempered her turf-fire to such a heat as the season required in her damp house even at midsummer, set forth her deal table newly washed, propped up |