Untouch'd, the harp began to ring,
As softly, slowly, oped the door;
And shook responsive every string,

As light a footstep press'd the floor.
And by the watch-fire's glimmeringlight,
Close by the minstrel's side was seen
A huntress maid, in beauty bright,

All dropping wet her robes of green.
All dropping wet her garments seem;
Chill'd was her cheek, her bosom bare,
As, bending o'er the dying gleam,
She wrung the moisture from her hair.
With maiden blush, she softly said,
"O gentle huntsman, hast thou seen,
In deep Glenfinlas' moonlight glade,
A lovely maid in vest of green:
"With her a Chief in Highland pride;
His shoulders bear the hunter's bow,
The mountain dirk adorns his side,

Far on the wind his tartans flow?".
"And who art thou? and who are they?"
All ghastly gazing, Moy replied:
"And why, beneath the moon's pale ray,
Dare ye thus roam Glenfinlas' side?"-
"Where wild Loch Katrine pours her tide,
Blue, dark, and deep, round many an

Our father's towers o'erhang her side, [isle,
The castle of the bold Glengyle.
"To chase the dun Glenfinlas deer,

Our woodland course this morn we bore,
And haply met, while wandering here,
The son of great Macgillianore.
"O aid me, then, to seek the pair,

Whom, loitering in the woods, I lost;
Alone, I dare not venture there,

Where walks, they say, the shrieking ghost."

"Yes, many a shrieking ghost walks there;

Then, first, my own sad vow to keep, Here will I pour my midnight prayer, Which still must rise when mortals sleep."

"O first, for pity's gentle sake,

Guide a lone wanderer on her way!
For I must cross the haunted brake,
And reach my father's towers ere day."—
"First, three times tell each Ave-bead,
And thrice a Pater-noster say;
Then kiss with me the holy rede;

"

So shall we safely wend our way.' "O shame to knighthood, strange and foul!

Go, doff the bonnet from thy brow, And shroud thee in the monkish cowl, Which best befits thy sullen vow.

'Not so, by high Dunlathmon's fire, Thy heart was froze to love and joy, When gaily rung thy raptured lyre

To wanton Morna's melting eye."
Wild stared the minstrel's eyes of flame,
And high his sable locks arose,
And quick his colour went and came,
As fear and rage alternate rose.
"And thou! when by the blazing oak
I lay, to her and love resign'd,
Say, rode ye on the eddying smoke,

Or sail'd ye on the midnight wind? "Not thine a race of mortal blood,

Nor old Glengyle's pretended line; Thy dame, the Lady of the Flood

Thy sire, the Monarch of the Mine." He mutter'd thrice Saint Oran's rhyme, And thrice Saint Fillan's powerful prayer;

Then turn'd him to the eastern clime,

And sternly shook his coal-black hair. And, bending o'er his harp, he flung

His wildest witch-notes on the wind;
And loud, and high, and strange, they rung,
As many a magic change they find.
Tall wax'd the Spirit's altering form,

Till to the roof her stature grew;
Then, mingling with the rising storm,
With one wild yell away she flew.
Rain beats, hail rattles, whirlwinds tear:
The slender hut in fragments flew;
But not a lock of Moy's loose hair

Was waved by wind, or wet by dew.
Wild mingling with the howling gale,

Loud bursts of ghastly laughter rise; High o'er the minstrel's head they sail, And die amid the northern skies.

The voice of thunder shook the wood,

As ceased the more than mortal yell; And, spattering foul, a shower of blood Upon the hissing firebrands fell.

Next dropp'd from high a mangled arm;

The fingers strain'd a half-drawn blade: And last, the life-blood streaming warm, Torn from the trunk, a gasping head. Oft o'er that head, in battling field, Stream'd the proud crest of high Ben

SMAYLHO'ME or Smallholm Tower, the scene of the following ballad, is situated on the northern boundary of Roxburghshire, among a cluster of wild rocks, called Sandiknow-Crags, the property of Hugh Scott, Esq., of Harden [Lord Polwarth]. The tower is a high square building, surrounded by an outer wall, now ruinous. The circuit of the outer court, being defended on three sides by a precipice and morass, is accessible only from the west by a steep and rocky path. The apartments, as is usual in a Border keep, or fortress, are placed one above another, and communicate by a narrow stair; on the roof are two bartizans, or platforms, for defence or pleasure. The inner door of the tower is wood, the outer an iron gate; the distance between them being nine feet, the thickness, namely, of the wall. From the elevated situation of Smaylho'me Tower, it is seen many miles in every direction. Among the crags by which it is surrounded, one, more eminent, is called the Watchfold, and is said to have been the station of a beacon, in the times of war with England. Without the tower-court is a ruined chapel. Brotherstone is a heath in the neighbourhood of Smaylho'me Tower.

This ballad was first printed in Mr. LEWIS's Tales of Wonder. It is here published, with some additional illustrations, particularly an account of the battle of Ancram Moor, which seemed proper in a work upon Border antiquities. The catastrophe of the tale is founded upon a wellknown Irish tradition. This ancient fortress and its vicinity formed the scene of the Editor's infancy, and seemed to claim from him this attempt to celebrate them in a Border tale.

THE Baron of Smaylho'me rose with day,
He spurr'd his courser on,
Without stop or stay, down the rocky way,
That leads to Brotherstone.

He went not with the bold Buccleuch,
His banner broad to rear;
He went not 'gainst the English yew,
To lift the Scottish spear.

Yet his plate-jack+ was braced, and his
helmet was laced,

And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore; At his saddle-gerthe was a good steel sperthe,

Full ten pound weight and more.

The Baron return'd in three days' space,
And his looks were sad and sour;
And weary was his courser's pace,
As he reach'd his rocky tower.

He came not from where Ancram Moor
Ran red with English blood;

He lighted at the Chapellage,

[page,

He held him close and still;
And he whistled thrice for his little foot-
His name was English Will.

"Come thou hither, my little foot-page,
Come hither to my knee;

Though thou art young, and tender of age,
I think thou art true to me.

"Come, tell me all that thou hast seen,
And look thou tell me true!
Since I from Smaylho'me tower have been,
What did thy lady do?"—

"My lady, each night, sought the lonely
light,

That burns on the wild Watchfold; For, from height to height, the beacons bright

Of the English foemen told.

"The bittern clamour'd from the moss, The wind blew loud and shrill;

Where the Douglas true, and the bold Yet the craggy pathway she did cross Buccleuch,

'Gainst keen Lord Evers stood.

Yet was his helmet hack'd and hew'd,
His acton pierced and tore, [brued,
His axe and his dagger with blood im-
But it was not English gore.

The plate-jack is coat-armour; the vauntbrace, or wam-brace, armour for the body; the sperthe, a battle-axe.

To the eiry Beacon Hill.

"I watched her steps, and silent came
Where she sat her on a stone;-
No watchman stood by the dreary flame,
It burned all alone.

"The second night I kept her in sight,
Till to the fire she came,
And, by Mary's might! an Armed Knight
Stood by the lonely flame.