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Of such may be his weeping wife,
Such children for their sire may call;
And if we spare his ebbing life,

Our kindness may preserve them all."

Thus her compassion woman shows,
Beneath the line her acts are these;
Nor the wide waste of Lapland snows
Can her warm flow of pity freeze ;-
"From some sad land the stranger comes,
Where joys like ours are never found;
Let's soothe him in our happy homes,
Where freedom sits with plenty crown'd.

""Tis good the fainting soul to cheer,
To see the famish'd stranger fed;
To milk for him the mother-deer,
To smooth for him the furry bed.
The powers above our Lapland bless
With good no other people know;
T'enlarge the joys that we possess,

By feeling those that we bestow !"

Thus in extremes of cold and heat,
Where wandering man may trace his kind;
Wherever grief and want retreat,

In woman they compassion find:
She makes the female breast her seat,
And dictates mercy to the mind.

Man may the sterner virtues know,-
Determined justice, truth severe;
But female hearts with pity glow,
And woman holds affliction dear :
For guiltless woes her sorrows flow,
And suffering vice compels her tear,-
'Tis hers to soothe the ills below,

And bid life's fairer views appear.

To woman's gentle kind we owe

What comforts and delights us here;

They its gay hopes on youth bestow,

And care they soothe and age they cheer.

P

WALTER SCOTT was born in Edinburgh, on the 15th of August, 1771. His father was a writer to the signet, and of ancient and honourable descent. Almost from his birth, until the age of sixteen, he was afflicted with ill health; and, either from the weakness of his constitution, or, as some assert, from an accident occasioned by the carelessness of his nurse, his right foot was injured, and he was lame during his life. His early days were passed among the hills and dales of the borders-"famous in war and verse"-" where," we quote from Allan Cunningham, "almost every stone that stands above the ground is the record of some skirmish, or single combat; and every stream, although its waters be so inconsiderable as scarcely to moisten the pasture through which they run, is renowned in song and in ballad." Perhaps to the happy chance of his residence in a district so fertile in legendary lore the world is indebted for the vast legacy of wealth he bequeathed to it. In 1783, he entered the University of Edinburgh; and in 1792, became an advocate at the Scottish bar: but after a few years' attendance at the Courts, quitted it, in order to devote himself to literature. He had, however, reached his twenty-fifth year before he manifested any desire, or rather intention, to contend for fame in a path so intricate; and as he himself states, his first attempt ended in a transfer of his printed sheets to the service of the trunk-maker. Though discouraged, he was not disheartened. In 1802, the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border" obtained a more fortunate destiny; and about three years afterwards, the publication of the "Lay of the Last Minstrel" completely established the fame of the writer. From the appearance of this Poem, the life of the Poet, until towards the close of it, is little else than a history of his writings. Marmion issued from the press in 1808; the Lady of the Lake in 1810; Don Roderick in 1811; Rokeby in 1813; the Lord of the Isles in 1814; the Bridal of Triermain, and Harold the Dauntless, appeared anonymously,-the former, in 1813; and the latter, in 1817. The publication of his novels and romances commenced with Waverley, in 1814. In 1820, Walter Scott was created a baronet of the United Kingdom. In January, 1826, his publishers became bankrupts it produced a feeling of the deepest sorrow,-not only in Edinburgh, but throughout the kingdom,-when it was ascertained that, through their failure, he was involved in pecuniary responsibilities to a ruinous extent. He encountered adversity with manly fortitude; asked and obtained from his creditors no other boon than time; and in about four years had actually paid off nearly £70,000 of the debt. The price of almost superhuman labour was, however, to be exacted. In 1831, he was attacked with gradual paralysis: in the autumn of that year he was prevailed upon to visit the more genial climate of the south of Europe :-the experiment was unsuccessful in restoring him to health: he returned to Abbotsford, and died there on the 21st of September, 1832. His loss was mourned not only by his own country, but in every portion of the civilized globe; for his fame had spread throughout all parts of it; and there is scarcely a language into which his works have not been translated. The kindness of his heart, the benevolence of his disposition, the thorough GOODNESS of his nature, were appreciated by all who had the privilege of his acquaintance; but his genius is the vast and valuable property of mankind.

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His

In person he was tall, and had the appearance of a powerful and robust man. countenance has been rendered familiar by artists in abundance; the justest notion of it is conveyed by the bust of Chantrey. Its expression was peculiarly benevolent; his forehead was broad, and remarkably high.

We have left ourselves but little space to comment upon the poetry of Sir Walter Scott: his fame as a Poet was eclipsed by his reputation as a Novelist; and the appearance of a star of greater magnitude drew from him, by degrees, the popularity he had so long engrossed. Yet we venture to hazard an opinion, that if it be possible for either to be forgotten, his poems will outlive his prose; and that Waverley and Ivanhoe will perish before Marmion and the Lady of the Lake. We can find no rare and valuable quality in the former that we may not find in the latter. A deeply interesting and exciting story, glorious and true pictures of scenery, fine and accurate portraits of character, clear and impressive accounts of ancient customs, details of battles-satisfying to the fancy, yet capable of enduring the sternest test of truth-are to be found in the one class as well as in the other. In addition, we have the most graceful and harmonious verse; and the style is undoubtedly such, as equally to delight those who possess, and those who are without, a refined poetical taste.

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ENCHANTRESS, farewell! who so oft has decoy'd me,
At the close of the evening through woodlands to roam,
Where the forester, lated, with wonder espied me
Explore the wild scenes he was quitting for home.
Farewell! and take with thee thy numbers wild speaking,
The language alternate of rapture and woe;

Oh! none but some lover, whose heart-strings are breaking,
The pang that I feel at our parting can know.

Each joy thou couldst double, and when there came sorrow,
Or pale disappointment, to darken my way,

What voice was like thine, that could sing of to-morrow,
Till forgot in the strain was the grief of to-day!

But when friends drop around us in life's weary waning,
The grief, queen of numbers, thou canst not assuage:
Nor the gradual estrangement of those yet remaining,
The languor of pain, and the chilness of age.

'Twas thou that once taught me, in accents bewailing,
To sing how a warrior lay stretch'd on the plain;
And a maiden hung o'er him with aid unavailing,
And held to his lips the cold goblet in vain :
As vain those enchantments, O queen of wild numbers,
To a bard when the reign of his fancy is o'er,
And the quick pulse of feeling in apathy slumbers,—
Farewell, then, enchantress! I meet thee no more!

HUNTING SONG.

WAKEN, lords and ladies gay,
On the mountain dawns the day,
All the jolly chase is here,

With hawk, and horse, and hunting-spear:
Hounds are in their couples yelling,

Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling ;

Merrily, merrily, mingle they,

"Waken, lords and ladies gay."

Waken, lords and ladies gay,

The mist has left the mountain grey;
Springlets in the dawn are steaming,
Diamonds on the brake are gleaming:
And foresters have busy been,
To track the buck in thicket green;
Now we come to chaunt our lay,-
"Waken, lords and ladies gay."

Waken, lords and ladies gay,
To the greenwood haste away;
We can show you where he lies,
Fleet of foot, and tall of size :
We can show the marks he made

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When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd;

You shall see him brought to bay,

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Waken, lords and ladies gay."

Louder, louder, chaunt the lay,
Waken, lords and ladies

gay:
Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee,
Run a course as well as we :

Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk,
Staunch as hound, and fleet as hawk;
Think of this, and rise with day,—
Gentle lords and ladies gay.

LOCHINVAR.

O, YOUNG Lochinvar has come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ;
And, save his good broadsword, he weapons had none,
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He stayed not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone;
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented-the gallant came late-
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Helen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby-hall,

Among bride's-men and kinsmen, and brothers, and all;
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,)
O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,

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Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?"
"I long woo'd your daughter,-my suit you denied ;
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide,
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."
The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up;
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.-
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar :
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

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