"THE TIDE OF HUMAN TIME, THOUGH IT CHANGE IN CEASELESS FLOW,-(SIR WALTER SCOTT)
It glared on Roslin's castled rock,
It ruddied all the copse-wood glen;
'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,
And seen from caverned Hawthornden.
Seemed all on fire that chapel proud,
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie;
Each baron, for a sable shroud,
Sheathed in his iron panoply.
Seemed all on fire within, around,
Deep sacristy and altar's pale;
Shone every pillar foliage-bound,
And glimmered all the dead men's mail;
Blazed battlement and pinnet high,
Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair-
So still they blaze, when fate is nigh
The lordly line of high St. Clair.
THEIR NAME UNKNOWN, THEIR PRAISE UNSUNG."-SCOTT.
RETAINS EACH GRIEF, RETAINS EACH CRIME,
ALL MOURN THE MINSTREL'S HARP UNSTRUNG,-(SCOTT)
ITS EARLIEST COURSE WAS DOOMED TO KNOW."-SCOTT.
"CALL IT NOT VAIN: THEY DO NOT ERR, WHO SAY, THAT WHEN THE POET DIES
"O CALEDONIA, STERN AND WILD,-(SCOTT)
There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold
Lie buried within that proud chapelle ;
Each one the holy vault doth hold-
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle !
And each St. Clair was buried there,
With candle, with book, and with knell;
But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung,
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle !
[From "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," canto vi.]
HAT day of wrath, that dreadful day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away!
What power shall be the sinner's stay?
How shall he meet that dreadful day?
MEET NURSE FOR A POETIC CHILD!"-SCOTT.
MUTE NATURE MOURNS HER WORSHIPPER, AND CELEBRATES HIS OBSEQUIES."-SCOTT.
Oh! on that day, that wrathful day,
When man to judgment wakes from clay,
Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away!
[From "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," canto vi., xxxi.]
"BREATHES THERE THE MAN, WITH SOUL SO DEAD, WHO NEVER TO HIMSELF
HATH SAID,-THIS IS MY OWN, MY NATIVE LAND?"-SIR WALTER SCOTT.
THE CHIEFTAIN'S APPROACH.
JAR up the lengthened lake were spied
Four darkening specks upon the tide,
That, slow enlarging on the view,
Four manned and masted barges grew,
And, hearing downwards from Glengyle,
Steered full upon the lonely isle.
The point of Brianchoil they passed;
And, to the windward as they cast,
Against the sun they gave to shine
The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine.
Nearer and nearer as they bear,
Spear, pikes, and axes flash in air.
Now might you see the tartans brave,
And plaids and plumage dance and wave;
Now see the bonnets sink and rise,
As his tough oar the rower plies;
See, flashing at each sturdy stroke,
The wave ascending into smoke;
See the proud pipers on the bow,
And mark the gaudy streamers flow
NEW LIFE REVOLVING SUMMER BRINGS."-SCOTT.
"TIME ROLLS HIS CEASELESS COURSE.
THE RACE OF YORE WHO DANCED OUR INFANCY UPON THEIR KNEE,-(SCOTT)
THE VERNAL SUN NEW LIFE BESTOWS-(SIR W. SCOTT)
THE CHIEFTAIN'S APPROACH.
From their loud chanters *down, and sweep
The furrowed bosom of the deep,
As, rushing through the lake amain,
They plied the ancient Highland strain,
Ever, as on they bore, more loud
And louder rang the pibroch proud.
At first the sound, by distance tame,
Mellowed along the water came,
And, lingering long by cape and bay,
Wailed every harsher note away;
Then bursting bolder on the ear,
The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear,-
Those thrilling sounds, that call the might
Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight.
Thick beat the rapid notes, as when
The mustering hundreds shake the glen,
And, hurrying at the signal dread,
The battered earth returns their tread :
Then prelude light, of livelier tone,
Expressed their merry marching on;
Ere peal of closing battle rose,
With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows,
And mimic din of stroke and ward,
As broadsword upon target jarred;
And groaning pause, ere yet again,
Condensed, the battle yelled amain;
The rapid charge, the rallying shout,
Retreat borne headlong into rout;
And bursts of triumph, to declare
Clan-Alpine's conquest ;-all were there.
Nor ended thus the strain; but slow,
Sunk in a moan prolonged and low,
*The pipe of the bagpipe.
EVEN ON THE MEANEST FLOWER THAT BLOWS."-SCOTT.
AND TOLD OUR MARVELLING BOYHOOD LEGENDS STORE, HOW ARE THEY BLOTTED FROM THE THINGS THAT BE!"-SCOTT.
YET NOW, DAYS, WEEKS, AND MONTHS, BUT SEEM THE RECOLLECTION OF A DREAM;
"" THOUGH VARYING WISHES, HOPES, AND FEARS,
And changed the conquering clarion swell,
For wild lament o'er those that fell.
The war-pipes ceased: but lake and hill
Were busy with their echoes still;
And when they slept, a vocal strain
Bade their hoarse chorus wake again;
While loud a hundred clansmen raise
Their voices in their Chieftain's praise.
Each boatman, bending to his oar
With measured sweep, the burden bore,
In such wild cadence as the breeze
Makes through December's leafless trees.......
And near, and nearer, as they rowed,
Distinct the martial ditty flowed.
[From "The Lady of the Lake," canto ii.—The approach of Roderick Dhu to the woody island on Loch Katrine, where Lord Douglas and his daughter have found an asylum, is described by the aged harper, Allanbane.]
SO STILL WE GLIDE DOWN TO THE SEA OF FATHOMLESS ETERNITY."-SIR W. SCOTT.
AIL to the Chief who in triumph advances !
Honoured and blessed be the ever-green Pine!
Long may the tree, in his banner that glances,
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line!
Heaven send it happy dew,
Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,
Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade;
FEVERED THE PROGRESS OF THE YEARS,-(Scott)
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