I've heard our monarch was an arrant fool! and of kings!" Never was bow by such a novice driven, riven. The earliest winter hues of old Cairn-Gorm, Kincraig y reddeu'd, stepp'd across the floor, black and blue. Had those to Mador known in royal hall, (For well I ween he was not stranger there) Beheld him crouching 'gainst that smoky wall, His precious violin heaved high in air, As guardian shield, the ireful blow to bear; Order, however, is restored, "by beanteous Ila Moore's reproving look," and after a short time passed in conversation betwixt the Minstrel and the Dame, who drinks largely of flattery's" delicious draught," administered by her penetrating guest, he retires, Aloft was framed the Minstrel's humble bed Of the green braken and the yielding heath, With coverlet of dowlas o'er it spread ;— That too he lauded with obsequious breath. But he was out, and in,-above-beneath, Unhinging doors, and groping in the dark. The hamlet matrons dread unearthly scathe; The maidens hide their heads, the watch dogs bark; [lark. And all was noise and fright till matin of the The next morning finds our minstrel detained, by the inclemency of the atmos of all the hints he receives for his depar phere, at Kincraigy's cottage, in spite ture. At last a change in the weather, which is most beautifully described, leaves him without excuse; and the blooming lla Moore, in that true spit of hospi tality, which enjoins us to "welcome the coming, speed the parting guest," undertakes to row him over the Tay; no won badder they lingered on a road which even description abounds with beauties that detain the mind's eye: 'Twas a hard jest; but Mador laugh'd it bye; trade? When those new jars to music came allay'd' And how it happ'd he in the line thriven? For sure, of all the fiddlers ever play'd, 'Twas but one little mile!—a summer day! And when the sun went down they scarce had reach'd the Tay! The change in lla Moore's character after the departure of the Minstrel is sweetly told; her tender melancholy, her chastened dignity, her estrangement from all her former associates, her love of solitude, all shew that her soul is engrossed by one image: and her mother alarmed at the alteration in her, sends an ancient friar to the "royal tent be low the Wells of Dee," to ascertain the rauk which Mador of the Moor holds in the Monarch's train, and in case of finding him removed above the vulgar, to deliver to him an account of her daughter's desponding state "Next morn, while yet the eastern mountains threw [dale, Their giant shadows o'er the slumbering Their darken'd verges trembling on the dew In rosy wreath, so lovely and so pale, The warp'd and slender rainbow of the vale! Fre beauteous Ila's foot had prest the floor, "Or her fair cheek had kiss'd the morning gale, none Of laces and of stays; and thereupon Hang many a fruitful jest?—Ah! is there [vow? The truth to pledge, and prove the nuptial Alas! the Friar on pilgrimage is gone; Mador is lost-none else the secret knew, And all is deem'd pretext assumptive and untrue." The laws of Scotland respecting female chastity are much more severe than those of England, and were formerly more strictly adhered to than may be found convenient in modern times. bert, the incensed and injured chief, upon the discovery of Ila Moore's situation, orders Kincraigy Al To drive his worthless daughter from the land Or forthwith yield of goods and gear the whole. The readiness with which the selfish mother would immediately accede to the punishment of her child, whose misfortune her own weak indulgence and presumptuous carelessness had occasioned, is finely contrasted by the noble forgiveness and generosity of Kincraigy. The birth of the young minstrel, Kincraigy's honest emotion at the sight of him, the A lively rap came to Kincraigy's door- the Moor!" The delight and increased obsequiousness of the dame at this assurance of Mador's consequence, the blushing modesty of the conscious maid, and the indignation and fears of honest Kincraigy when he sees again "The Minstrel's smooth obtrusive face;" the devoted attention of the hero of the tale to Ila Moore, and Albert's growing jealousy of bis betrothed bride, form abundant matter for the remainder of the canto, which concludes with the flight of Mador, at the earnest entreaty of Ila Moore, to avoid the blood-thirsty revenge of his indignant rival. The third canto opens with a touching apostrophe to Love, followed by a disclosure respecting Ila Moore, the probability of which our readers will already have guessed "Why do the maidens of the strath rejoice, And hilt with meaning gesture on the loan? Why do they smirk, and talk with giggling voice VOL IV. No. 23. Lit. Pan. N. S. Aug 1. dame's uneasiness lest the evil spirits should change the unchristened babe, are delineated with alternate dignity, pathos, and humour, such as no modern poem within our knowledge can shew, except it may be the Oberon of Wieland, which, were it purified from its licentiousness, might be suffered to take its stand by Mador of the Moor. The uneasiness of her mother, her father's sighs, oppress the guiltless heart of la Moore more than her own sufferings, and for their sakes she resolves to gain some tidings of the father of her child "Forthwith she tried a letter to indite, To rouse the faithless Mador's dormant flame: Her soul was rack'd with feelings opposite; She found no words proportioned to his blame. [came; At memory's page her blushes went and And aye she stoop'd aud o'er the cradle hung, Call'd her loved infant by his father's name, Then framed a little lay, and thus she sung--Tby father's far away,thy mother all too young! 2 D 1 " Be still, my babe! be still!—the die is cast! O thy sweet eye will melt my wrongs to see! Her letter finished, she dispatches it by "Porter, nor groom, nor warder of the Tower The fourth canto shews us Ila Moore, a babe, unwean'd, companion of her flight," in search of her love; an ancient Palmer joins her on her way, and offers to protect her and her child. This man, the victim of incessant remorse for the unfortunate consequences of an illicit love, is represented as holding converse with the world of spirits, and lla Moore is alternately penetrated with his kindness, and distrustful of its motives. At length a storm comes on, and they look for shelter; "a darksome shieling" offers them a refuge; its loneliness and deserted state are well described " "Twas only then the grovelling badger's den, The marten, from his vault beneath the wall, breath; [call, bursts into a triumphant hymn of gratitude, and the mother's heart is cheered afresh with hope, till he brings her within sight of the court, and then leaves her. The last canto is beautifully occupied with what may be termed domestic in cidents. Kincraigy has traced his daughter's steps; an affecting meeting takes place between them, and one more affecting still, between Mador and Ila Moore. "Their hands were join'd-a mother's heart Her son was christen'd by his Sovereign's Needs not to sing of after joys that fell, May well conceive who Mador needs must A few stanzas of apostrophe to his harp conclude this lay of the Ettrick Shepherd, which, in richness of fancy and elegance of sentiment, we must repeat, is not unworthy of the genius of the poet whose style of versification he has adopted. The progress of the plot of this poem may, possibly, be thought to bear some They heard the young brock's whining hunger-resemblance to that adopted in the Lady And the grim pole-cat's grinding voice beneath." "I regret the loss of Fairyism," says Marmontel; and so should we, were its empire often described, as it is by the Ettrick Shepherd; nothing but the length of extract we have already been led into, restrains us from giving the account of the tender mother's fear" lest at the turn of night the fiends her babe should win." After a night of contest and dread, the assailing spirits vanish at the crowing of the cock; the Palmer of the Lake; the fact is, that the Scottish History of the fourteenth century furnishes more than one proto-type of such an event. But, Mr. Hogg has had chiefly in view the Adventures of the King of Scotland with a lady named Elizabeth Moore; now, Elizabeth being longer than the Poet wanted, by two syllables; and, besides, a name to be met with any day: he found it convenient on account of the rhythm, to change this inflexible polysyllable for one more rare and pliant. Travels in Various Countries of Europe, Asia, and Africa, by Edward Danie! Clarke, LL.D. Part the Second, Greece, Egypt, and the Holy Land. 4to. Price six Guineas. Cadell & Davies, Loudon. 1816. It was for these, and for home, he laboured; for these and for home, he incurred weariness of body, anxiety of mind, hazards of every-description, and expenses not trifling, even to a man of fortune. Few persons have originally proposed to themselves an excursion so extensive; from the icy coasts of the North, to the parched deserts of Egypt; from Sweden and Petersburgh, to Cairo and Jerusalem :-no inconsiderable portion of the globe! Every where the Dr. finds something to remark, for which his previous Tra IN the course of those researches which have been our duty and delight for many a long year, few things have vexed us more, than those fatal events by which adventurous travellers have been denied the gratification of publish-vels had singularly well prepared him. ing their own history of their adventures. With whatever interest we peruse the immortal Cooke's last Voyage, we rest assured that had he himself superintended the publication, it would have received many corrections, with much additional matter from his pen. And though we are thankful for an opportunity of paying the tribute of a sigh to the intrepid Mungo Parke, yet this bears no comparison to that infinite pleasure with which we should have met him once more, in person, in his native land. The tumuli he found in the South, would have been passed undistinguished by a traveller who was not fresh from the contemplation of similar labours in the North. The barrows and lesser erections contributed assistance in explanation of the Pyramids themselves; and, whether found on the shores of the Hellespont, or on those of the Nile, under the eye of practised intelligence they bore witness to truths obscured by the lapse of ages, and recorded only in such antient and long for gotten, though venerated memoranda. The conclusion of his last volume left When we consider the numerous hazards encountered by those who have surveyed distant lands, and people of the author in full possession of his triuncivilized habits, for our instruction,umph over all difficulties which opposed we tremble for them in every instance of peril. The plague besets them on this side, the mat aria fever on that side; famine stares them repeatedly in the face; while the angry passions of men, not seldom more desperate than plague, sickness, or famine, place their lives in a jeopardy, from which the means of escape, almost defy foresight, if they do not exceed belief. But, when we see the author's name in his title-page, and know that he has survived all dangers, and extricated himself from every extremity, the idea accompanies and consoles us: his difficulties are pronounced not insuperable; and the proverb that reports past labours to be pleasant, meets us in its full force and impulse. his acquisition of the famous statue of Elensinian Ceres. The goddess was safely hoisted on board a frail vessel, and the learned and spirited travellers were returned to Atheus, then their head quarters. The present volume opens with their quitting Athens, and taking a northern direction for Constantinople, and the Austrian territories beyond the Danube. But many a heavy mile intervenes before the banks of that capacious river appear; and we are detained in Greece by a variety of objects interesting to the philosopher, the antiquary, the historian, the man of letters, and the general reader. This is a military age, and we shall in the first place, adduce the sentiments of our author on those most celebrated We congratulate Dr. Clarke on turn-military events, which none who have ing his steps homewards: we congratulate him on his approach towards civilized countries, and people disposed to do justice to bis merit and reputation. perused Grecian History, can fail of recollecting, directly as they are mentioned; yet they have continued in some degree problematical, and in a much greater degree obscure, from the that the enemies slain, or routed by the acknowledged and insatiate vanity of Greeks, were many fewer than Grecian those by whom the relation is trans-vanity reported; and though the victory mitted to later times. was indeed illustrious;-for, it was in defence of the country-yet, it was not all which the Grecian orators, vieing with each other, represented it. Referring our readers back to Panorama Vol. XV. p. 153. et seq. for Mr. Hobhouse's description of the antiquities The achievements of the Greeks at Troy, are acknowledged by all to be highly poetical and hyperbolical; the most judicious have been inclined to think pretty much the same of the battle of Marathon; and, to say truth, after the most exact scrutiny into the locali-existing on the Plain of Marathon, we ties and possibilities of the scene, by our author, and by other travellers, we cannot deny that those who have restrained their belief in various parts of the story, are sufficiently justified by the features of the country as impressed by the hand of nature. shall now give a place to part of Dr. Clarke's account of the same, for the purpose of comparison. A lofty sepulchral mound, marks the burial place of the Athenians who fell in the action, it affords a great number of arrow heads of flint. It is one hundred and eighty feet in circumference, although no doubt, it has been slowly sinking, during many ages. It is still called Tépe, from Ta two smaller monuments; one for the Plateans, and for the slaves; the other a work of art and expense: erected on foundations of white marble; a large square pedestal, on which formerly stood Stela, or a Trophy; perhaps both. Modern authors have been sceptical on the number of men, especially of Persians, said to have fought on the Plain at Marathon. They urge the im-phos, the tomb. Near this tomb are probability, that the Persians had ships enough, stores enough, or opportunity favourable for embarking and disembarking a hundred thousand men. What tonnage could they command sufficient for this service? and, that the Greeks were strongly addicted to the marvellous, and to inultiplication, as one means of the marvellous, appears sufficiently from the oratorical flourish of Lysias, who reminded his Athenian auditory of the exploits of their immortal ancestors, who at Marathon, had annihilated fifty myWe continued through rich corn land, riads of barbarians!!! What vanity! What falsity! Yet this was spoken lit-until we reached the borders of that fatle more than a century after the battle, and at no greater distance from the spot, than about ten or a dozen miles. Justin the historian, goes further still, and states the number at six hundred thousand! A number that could not sibly have stood on the ground. About a mile in advance is a rivulet; and around it are Marathonian reliques of every description;-remains of sepulchres, stela, soroi, the ruins of marble trophies, architectural pillars, fragments of statues, &c. mous Lake or fen, into which the Persian army were driven by the victorious Greeks. We found it overgrown with tall reeds and bulrushes, but well suited, by its unfathomable depth of water and mud, to confirm the probability of the fact related concernposing it; und capable, at this day, of engulphing the most numerous army that might attempt its passage. It occupies the whole of this extremity of the Plain, between Mount Stauro Koraki and the sea, reaching quite up to the base of the former; along which a narrow defile, exactly like that of Thermopyle, and in the same manner skirt There is yet another observation which admits of no reply. The scene itself neither has, now, nor had it in the days of Pausanias-we say, therefore, it never had, the smallest vestige of any erection over the bodies of the enemy.ing the bottom of a mountain, conducts, by To tell us gravely that the corpses of this great number of Persians were buried in the ditches, sunk in the lake adjacent, or dispersed about, and lost, as it were by enchantment, is rather to write fable than history. The fact is, an antient paved-way, to a village now called Shuli; perhaps the antient Tricorinthus, which occurred in the road from Marathon to Rhamnus. The resemblance between the two straits is indeed remarkably strik ing; for a spring, at the foot of the moun tain, crosses the autient paved-way, as de |