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"

Of thy poor friend so basely deem,
As blend with him this barbarous scheme?
Alas! my efforts, made in vain,
Might well have saved this added pain.
But now, bear witness, earth and heaven,
That ne'er was hope to mortal given,
So twisted with the strings of life,
As this-to call Matilda wife!
I bid it now for ever part,

And with the effort bursts my heart."
His feeble frame was worn so low,
With wounds, with watching, and with woe,
That nature could no more sustain
The agony of mental pain.

He kneel'd-his lip her hand had press'd,-
Just then he felt the stern arrest.
Lower and lower sunk his head,-
They raised him,-but the life was fled!
Then, first alarm'd, his sire and train
Tried every aid, but tried in vain.
The soul, too soft its ills to bear,
Had left our mortal hemisphere,
And sought in better world the meed,
To blameless life by Heaven decreed.
XXXI.

The wretched sire beheld, aghast,
With Wilfrid all his projects past;-
All turn'd and centred on his son,
On Wilfrid all-and he was gone.
"And I am childless now," he said;
"Childless, through that relentless maid!
A lifetime's arts, in vain essay'd,
Are bursting on their artist's head!-
Here lies my Wilfrid dead-and there
Comes hated Mortham for his heir,
Eager to knit in happy band
With Rokeby's heiress Redmond's hand.
And shall their triumph soar o'er all
The schemes deep-laid to work their fall?
No!-deeds which prudence might not
Appal not vengeance and despair. [dare,
The murd'ress weeps upon his bier-
I'll change to real that feigned tear!
They all shall share destruction's shock;-
Ho! lead the captives to the block!"
But ill his Provost could divine
His feelings, and forbore the sign.

"Slave! to the block!-or I, or they, Shall face the judgment-seat this day !"

XXXII.

The outmost crowd have heard a sound,
Like horse's hoof on harden'd ground;
Nearer it came, and yet more near,—
'The very death's-men paused to hear.
"Tis in the churchyard now-the tread
Hath waked the dwelling of the dead!
Fresh sod, and old sepulchral stone,
Return the tramp in varied tone.
All eyes upon the gateway hung, [sprung
When through the Gothic arch there
A horseman arm'd, at headlong speed-
Sable his cloak, his plume, his steed.
Fire from the flinty floor was spurn'd,
The vaults unwonted clang return'd!-
One instant's glance around he threw,
From saddle-bow his pistol drew.
Grimly determined was his look!
His charger with the spurs he strook-
All scatter'd backward as he came,
For all knew Bertram Risingham!
Three bounds that noble courser gave;
The first has reach'd the central nave,
The second clear'd the chancel wide,
The third-he was at Wycliffe's side.

Full levell'd at the Baron's head,
Rung the report—the bullet sped-
And to his long account, and last,
Without a groan dark Oswald past!
All was so quick, that it might seem
A flash of lightning, or a dream.

XXXIII. While yet the smoke the deed conceals, Bertram his ready charger wheels; But flounder'd on the pavement floor The steed, and down the rider bore, And, bursting in the headlong sway, The faithless saddle-girths gave way. 'Twas while he toil'd him to be freed, And with the rein to raise the steed, That from amazement's iron trance All Wycliffe's soldiers waked at once. Sword, halbert, musket-butt, their blows Hail'd upon Bertram as he rose ; A score of pikes, with each a wound, Bore down and pinn'd him to the ground; But still his struggling force he rears, 'Gainst hacking brands and stabbing

spears;

Thrice from assailants shook him free,
Once gain'd his feet, and twice his knee.
By tenfold odds oppress'd at length,
Despite his struggles and his strength,
He took a hundred mortal wounds,
As mute as fox 'mongst mangling hounds;
And when he died, his parting groan
Had more of laughter than of moan!

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THE

LORD OF THE
THE ISLES.

IN SIX CANTOS,

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION.

The scene of this poem lies, at first, in the Castle of Artornish, on the coast of Argyleshire; and, afterwards, in the Islands of Skye and Arran, and upon the coast of Ayrshire. Finally, it is laid near Stirling. The story opens in the spring of the year 1307, when Bruce, who had been driven out of Scotland by the English, and the Barons who adhered to that foreign interest, returned from the Island of Rachrin, on the coast of Ireland, again to assert his claims to the Scottish crown. Many of the personages and incidents introduced are of historical celebrity. authorities used are chiefly those of the venerable Lord Hailes, as well entitled to be called the restorer of Scottish history, as Bruce the restorer of Scottish monarchy; and of Archdeacon Barbour, a correct edition of whose Metrical History of Robert Bruce will soon, I trust, appear under the care of my learned friend, the Rev. Dr. Jamieson.

ABBOTSFORD, 10th December, 1814.

The

INTRODUCTION TO EDITION 1830.

I COULD hardly have chosen a subject more popular in Scotland than anything connected with the Bruce's history, unless I had attempted that of Wallace. But I am decidedly of opinion, that a popular, or what is called a taking title, though well qualified to ensure the publishers against loss, and clear their shelves of the original impression, is rather apt to be hazardous than otherwise to the reputation of the author. He who attempts a subject of distinguished popularity, has not the privilege of awakening the enthusiasm of his audience; on the contrary, it is already awakened, and glows, it may be, more ardently than that of the author himself. In this case, the warmth of the author is inferior to that of the party whom he addresses, who has, therefore, little chance of being, in Bayes's phrase, "elevated and surprised" by what he has thought of with more enthusiasm than the writer. The sense of this risk, joined to the consciousness of striving against wind and tide, made the task of composing the proposed Poem somewhat heavy and hopeless; but, like the prize-fighter in "As You Like It," I was to wrestle for my reputation, and not neglect any advantage. In a most agreeable pleasure-voyage which I have tried to commemorate in the Introduction to the new edition of the "Pirate,' visited, in social and friendly company, the coasts and islands of Scotland, and made myself acquainted with the localities of which I meant to treat. But this voyage, which was in every other effect so delightful, was in its conclusion saddened by one of those strokes of fate which so often mingle themselves with our pleasures. The accomplished and excellent person who had recommended to me the subject for "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," and to whom I proposed to inscribe what I already suspected might be the close of my poetical labours, was unexpectedly removed from the world, which she seemed only to have visited for purposes of kindness and benevolence. It is needless to say how the author's feelings, or the composition of his trifling work, were affected by a circumstance which occasioned so many tears and so much sorrow. True it is, that "The Lord of the Isles" was concluded, unwillingly and in haste, under the painful feeling of one who has a task which must be finished, rather than with the ardour of one who endeavours to perform that task well. Although the Poem cannot be said to have made a favourable impression on the public, the sale of fifteen thousand copies enabled the author to retreat from the field with the honours of war.

In the meantime, what was necessarily to be considered as a failure, was much reconciled to my feeling by the success attending my attempt in another species of composition. "Waverley" had, under strict incognito, taken its flight from the press, just before I set out upon the voyage already mentioned; it had now made its way to popularity, and the success of that work, and

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