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By this the storm grew loud apace,

The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face

Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still as wilder blew the wind,

And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men,

Their trampling sounded nearer. “ O haste thee, haste !” the lady cries,

“ Though tempests round us gather; “ I'll meet the raging of the skies,

“ But not an angry father.”. The boat has left a stormy land,

A stormy sea before her,
When oh! too strong for human hand,

The tempest gather'd o'er her.-
And still they row'd amidst the roar

Of waters fast prevailing:
Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore,

His wrath was chang’d to wailing.
For sore dismay'd through storm and shade,

His child he did discover :-
One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,

And one was round her lover.

" Come back! come back !” he cried in grief,

“ Across this stormy water: “ And I'll forgive your Highland chief,

My daughter! oh my daughter."'Twas vain the loud waves lash'd the shore,

Return or aid preventing :
The waters wild went o'er his child

And he was left lamenting. 11.



THE TURKISH LADY, 'Twas the hour when rites unholy

Call'd each Paynim voice to prayer, And the star that faded slowly

Left to dews the freshen'd air. Day her sultry fires had wasted,

Calm and sweet the moonlight rose:
Even a captive's spirit tasted

Half oblivion of his woes,
Then 'twas from an Emir's palace

Came an Eastern lady bright:
She, in spite of tyrants jealous,

Saw and lov'dan English knight. “Tell me, captive, why in anguish

“ Foes have dragg’d thee here to dwell, “ Where poor Christians as they languish

6 Hear no sound of Sabbath bell ?" “ 'Twas on Transylvania's Bannat

“ When the cresent shone afar, “ Like a pale disastrous planet

“ O'er the purple tide of war“ In that day of desolation,

“ Lady, I was captive made;
Bleeding for my Christian nation

By the walls of high Belgrade."
Captive, could the brightest jewel

“ From my turban set thee free?". “ Lady, no! the gift were cruel,

Ransom’d, yet if reft of thee. “ Say, fair princess! would it grieve thee

“ Christian climes should we behold?” “ Nay, bold knight! I would not leave thee

“ Were thy ransom paid in gold.!”



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Now in heaven's blue expansion

Rose the midnight star to view,
When, to quit her father's mansion,

Thrice she wept, and bade adieu !
Fly we then, while none discover!

“ Tyrant barks in vain ye ride!"
Soon at Rhodes the British lover

Clasp'd his blooming Eastern bride.

The two preceding Ballads are from the pen of the accomplished author of The Pleasures of Hope, Gertrude of Wyoming, &c. &c. and bear, the first especially, all the characteristics of his powerful genius. The single stanza,

By this the storm grew loud apace,

The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven each face

Grew dark as they were speaking. is worth a volume of the singsong stuff that is frequently obtruded upon the world, and praised too, as exquisite Ballad poetry. Mr. Campbell and his works I consider to be indeed, far beyond any praise of mine; but I tannot suppress an expression of regret, in common with the rest of my countrymen, that, possessing, as he does, so completely the public atten tion, he so seldom makes use of his privilege. Why are his delightful effusions, so happily calculated to warm the heart,"refine the feelings, and sublime the understanding, “ Like angel visits few and far between ?" while the ravings of that world where truth, mercy, and hope are alike unknown, embodied in Giours, Manfreds, Beppos, and Don Juans; are day by day bubbling the multitude out of their principles and their understandings at the same time? Pope, with that laconic sarcasm that was peculiar to his character, described the people as a manyheaded beast, and abundance of facts might be adduced to prove that this venerable personage (it would be very rude, in these days of liberality, to say beast) is not very descerning in his taste; but were it not for the scantiness of such golden fruitage as Gertrude, O'Connor's Child, &c. it is altogether incredible that he would deign to feed upon such garbage, that can be compared to nothing superior to leeks, garlic, and “ shotten herring."

Made to King James V. being in Stirvling.
We that ar heir in Heavens Glory,
To zou that ar in Purgatory,
Commends us on our hearty Ways,
I mene we Folk in Paradyce,

In Edinbrugh with all Mirryness,
To zou in Stirvling in Distress,
Quhair nowther Pleasance nor Delyt is,
Thus pittying ane Apostle wryts.

O ze Hermits and Hankersaidlis,
That tak zour. Pénance at zour Tables,
And eit nae Meat restorative,
Nor drink the Wyne comfortative,
But Ale that is baith thin and small,
With but few Courses in zour Hall,
Bot Company of Lords or Knychts,
Or ony uther guidly Wichts,
Solitar walkand zour alane,
Seing naething but Stock or Stane
Out of zour painfull Purgatory,
To bring zou to the Bless of Glory:
Of Edinbrugh the mirry Toun
We sall begin a carefull Soun,
Ane Dregy kynd, devout and meik,
The Blest abune we sall beseik
Zou to delyvir out of zour Noy,
And bring zou sune to Edinbrughs Joy,
Thair to be mirry amang zour Freins,
And sae the Dregy thus begins.

The * * *
The mirthfull Mary, Virgin chast,
Of Angels all the Orders nyne,
And all the heavenly Court divyne,
Sune bring ze frae the Pyne and Wae
Of Stirvling, ilka Court Mans Fae,
Again to Edinburghs Joy and Bliss,
Quhair Worschip, Wealth and Weilfair is,
Play, Pleasance, and eik Honesty,
Say ze Amen, for Charity.

Responsio, tu autem Domine.

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