Now covering with the wither'd leaves
The foot-prints that the dew receives;*
He, skill'd in every sylvan guile,

Knows not, nor tries, such various wile,
As Risingham, when on the wind
Arose the loud pursuit behind.
In Redesdale his youth had heard
Each art her wily dalesmen dared,
When Rooken-edge, and Redswair high,
To bugle rung and blood-hound's cry,t
Announcing Jedwood-axe and spear,
And Lid'sdale riders in the rear;
And well his venturous life had proved
The lessons that his childhood loved.
III.

Oft had he shown, in climes afar,
Each attribute of roving war;
The sharpen'd ear, the piercing eye,
The quick resolve in danger nigh;
The speed, that in the flight or chase,
Outstripp'd the Charib's rapid race;
The steady brain, the sinewy limb,
To leap, to climb, to dive, to swim;
The iron frame, inured to bear
Each dire inclemency of air,
Nor less confirm'd to undergo

Fatigue's faint chill, and famine's throe.
These arts he proved, his life to save,
In peril oft by land and wave,
On Arawaca's desert shore,

Or where La Plata's billows roar,
When oft the sons of vengeful Spain
Track'd the marauder's steps in vain.
These arts, in Indian warfare tried,
Must save him now by Greta's side.

IV.

Twas then, in hour of utmost need,
He proved his courage, art, and speed.

*The patience, abstinence, and ingenuity, exerted by the North American Indians, when in pursuit of plunder or vengeance, is the most distinguished feature in their character; and the activity and address which they display in their retreat is equally surprising. Adair, whose absurd hypothesis and turgid style do not affect the general authenticity of his anecdotes, has recorded an instance which seems incredible.

"When the Chickasah nation was engaged in a former war with the Muskonge, one of their young warriors set off against them to revenge the blood of a near relation.. He went through the most unfrequented and thick parts of the woods, as such a dangerous enterprise required, till he arrived opposite to the great and old-beloved town of refuge, Koosah, which stands high on the eastern side of a bold river, about 250 yards broad, that runs by the late dangerous Albebama Fort, down to the black poisoning Mobille, and so into the Gulf of Mexico. There he concealed himself under cover of the top of a fallen pine-tree, in view of the ford of the old trading path, where the enemy now and then pass the river in their light poplar canoes. All his war-store of provisions consisted in three stands of barbicued venison, till he had an opportunity to revenge blood, and return home. He waited with watchfulness and patience almost three days, when a young man, a woman, and a girl, passed a little wide of him about an hour before sunset. The former he shot down, tomahawked the other two, and scalped each of them in a trice, in full view of the town. By way of bravado, he shaked the scalps before them, sounding the awful death-whoop, and set off along the trading-path, trusting to his heels, while a great many of the enemy ran to their arms and gave chase. Seven miles from thence he entered the great blue ridge of the Apalahche Mountains. About an hour before day he had run over seventy miles of that mountainous tract; then, after sleeping two hours in a sitting posture, leaning his back against a tree, he set off again with fresh speed. As he threw away the venison when he found himself pursued by the enemy, he was obliged to support nature with such herbs, roots, and nuts, as his sharp eyes, with a running glance, directed him to snatch up in his course. Though I often have rode that war-path alone, when delay might have proved dangerous, and with as fine and strong horses as any in America, it took me five days to ride from the aforesaid Koosah to this sprightly warrior's place in the Chickasah country, the distance of 200 computed miles; yet he ran it, and got home safe and well at about eleven o'clock of the third day, which was only one day and a half and two nights."-ADAIR'S History of the American Indians. Lond. 1775, 4to. p. 395. "What manner of cattle-stealers they are that inhabit these valleys in the marches of both kingdoms, John Lesley, a Scotche man himself, and Bishop of Ross, will inform you. They sally out of their own borders in the night, in troops, through unfrequented by-ways and many intricate windings. All the day-time they refresh themselves and their horses in hirking holes they had pitched upon before, till they arrive in the dark in those places they have a design upon. As soon as they have seized upon the booty, they, in like manner, return home in the night, through blind ways, and fetching many a compass. The more skilful any captain is to pass through those wild deserts, crooked turnings,

Now slow he stalk'd with stealthy pace,
Now started forth in rapid race,

Oft doubling back in mazy train,
To blind the trace the dews retain ;+
Now clombe the rocks projecting high,
To baffle the pursuer's eye;

Now sought the stream, whose brawling sound
The echo of his footsteps drown'd.
But if the forest verge he nears,

There trample steeds, and glimmer spears;

If deeper down the copse he drew,
He heard the rangers' loud halloo,
Beating each cover while they came,
As if to start the sylvan game.
'Twas then-like tiger close besets
At every pass with toil and net,
'Counter'd, where'er he turns his glare,
By clashing arms and torches' flare,
Who meditates, with furious bound,
To burst on hunter, horse, and hound,-
'Twas then that Bertram's soul arose,
Prompting to rush upon his foes:
But as that crouching tiger, cow'd
By brandish'd steel and shouting crowd
Retreats beneath the jungle's shroud,
Bertram suspends his purpose stern,
And couches in the brake and fern,
Hiding his face, lest foemen spy
The sparkle of his swarthy eye. T

V.

Then Bertram might the bearing trace
Of the bold youth who led the chase;
Who paused to list for every sound,
Climb'd every height to look around,
Then rushing on with naked sword,
Each dingle's bosky depths explored.
'Twas Redmond-by the azure eye;
'Twas Redmond-by the locks that fly

and deep precipices, in the thickest mists, his reputation is the greater, and he is looked upon as a man of an excellent head. And they are so very cunning, that they seldom have their booty taken from them, unless sometimes when, by the help of bloodhounds following them exactly upon the tract, they may chance to fall into the hands of their adversaries. When being taken, they have so much persuasive eloquence, and so many smooth insinuating words at command, that if they do not move their judges, nay, and even their adversaries, (notwithstanding the severity of their natures,) to have mercy, yet they incite them to admiration and compassion."-CAMDEN'S Britannia.

The inhabitants of the valleys of Tyne and Reed, were, in ancient times, so inordinately addicted to these depredations, that in 1564, the Incorporated Merchant-adventurers of Newcastle made a law that none born in these districts should be admitted apprentice. The inhabitants are stated to be so generally addicted to rapine, that no faith should be reposed in those proceeding from" such lewde and wicked progenitors." This regulation continued to stand unrepealed until 1771. A beggar, in an old play, describes himself as "born in Redesdale, in Northumberland, and come of a wight-riding surname, called the Robsons, good honest men and true, saving a little shifting for their living, God help them!"-a description which would have applied to most Borderers on both sides.

Reidswair, famed for a skirmish to which it gives name, [see Border Minstrelsy, ante, p. 67.] is on the very edge of the CarterFell, which divides England from Scotland. The Rooken is a place upon Reedwater. Bertram, being described as a native of these dales, where the habits of hostile depredation long survived the union of the crowns, may have been, in some degree, prepared by education for the exercise of a similar trade in the wars of the Bucaniers.

[MS.- Where traces in the dew remain."]
[MS.-" And oft his soul within him rose,
Prompting to rush upon his foes,
And oft, like tiger toil-beset,

That in each pass finds foe and net," &c.]

[In the MS. the stanza concludes thus:
"Suspending yet his purpose stern,
He couch'd him in the brake and fern;
Hiding his face, lest foemen spy
The sparkle of his swarthy eye."]

After one of the recent battles, in which the Irish rebels were defeated, one of their most active leaders was found in a bog, in which he was immersed up to the shoulders, while his head was concealed by an impending ledge of turf. Being detected and seized, notwithstanding his precaution, he became solicitous to know how his retreat had been discovered. "I caught," answered the Sutherland Highlander, by whom he was taken, the sparkle of your eye." Those who are accustomed to mark hares upon their form usually discover them by the same circumstance.*

laid aside all other field-sports, and he used to say jocularly, that he had more [Sir Walter Scott continued to be fond of conrsing hares long after he had pleasure in being considered an excellent finder, than in all his reputation as a trouveur.-Ed.

Disorder'd from his glowing cheek;

Mien, face, and form, young Redmond speak.
A form more active, light, and strong,
Ne'er shot the ranks of war along;
The modest, yet the manly mien,
Might grace the court of maiden queen
A face more fair you well might find,*
For Redmond's knew the sun and wind,
Nor boasted, from their tinge when free,
The charm of regularity;

But every feature had the power
To aid the expression of the hour:
Whether gay wit, and humour sly,
Danced laughing in his light-blue eye;
Or bended brow, and glance of fire,
And kindling cheek, spoke Erin's ire;
Or soft and sadden'd glances show
Her ready sympathy with wo;
Or in that wayward mood of mind,
When various feelings are combined,
When joy and sorrow mingle near,
And hope's bright wings are check'd by fear,
And rising doubts keep transport down,
And anger lends a short-lived frown;
In that strange mood which maids approve
Even when they dare not call it love;
With every change his features play'd,
As aspens show the light and shade.t

VI.

Well Risingham young Redmond knew:
And much he marvel'd that the crew,
Roused to revenge bold Mortham dead,
Were by that Mortham's foeman led;
For never felt his soul the wo,
That wails a generous foeman low,
Far less that sense of justice strong,
That wreaks a generous foeman's wrong.
But small his leisure now to pause;
Redmond is first, whate'er the cause;
And twice that Redmond came so near
Where Bertram couch'd like hunted deer,
The very boughs his steps displace,
Rustled against the ruffian's face,
Who, desperate, twice prepared to start,
And plunge his dagger in his heart!
But Redmond turn'd a different way,
And the bent boughs resumed their sway,
And Bertram held it wise, unseen,
Deeper to plunge in coppice green.
Thus, circled in his coil, the snake,
When roving hunters beat the brake,
Watches with red and glistening eye,
Prepared, if heedless step draw nigh,
With forked tongue and venom'd fang
Instant to dart the deadly pang;
But if the intruders turn aside,
Away his coils unfolded glide,
And through the deep savannah wind,
Some undisturb'd retreat to find.
VII.

But Bertram, as he backward drew,
And heard the loud pursuit renew,
And Redmond's halloo on the wind,
Oft mutter'd in his savage mind-
"Redmond O'Neale! were thou and I
Alone this day's event to try,
With not a second here to see,
But the gray cliff and oaken tree,-

[These six couplets were often quoted by the late Lord Kinnedder as giving in his opinion an excellent portrait of the author himself.-Ed.]

[In the MS. this image comes after the line "to aid the expression of the hour," and the couplet stands:

"And like a flexile aspen play'd
Alternately in light and shade."]

[MS.-"The chase he heads, whate'er the cause."]
$IMS.
and limbs to start,

And, while his stretch'd attention glows,
Scarce felt his weary frame repose."]

The Campanula Latifolia, grand throatwort, or Canterbury bes, grows in profusion upon the beautiful banks of the river Creta, where it divides the manors of Brignall and Scargill, about three miles above Greta Bridge. TIMS.

"show'd,
With many a rocky fragment rude,
Its old gray cliffs and shaggy wood."

That voice of thine, that shouts so loud,
Should ne'er repeat its summons proud!
No! nor e'er try its melting power
Again in maiden's summer bower."
Eluded, now behind him die,
Faint and more faint each hostile cry;
He stands in Scargill wood alone,
Nor hears he now a harsher tone
Than the hoarse cushat's plaintive cry,
Or Greta's sound that murmurs by;
And on the dale, so lone and wild,
The summer sun in quiet smiled.

VIII.

He listen'd long with anxions heart,
Ear bent to hear, and foot to start,§
And, while his stretch'd attention glows,
Refused his weary frame repose.
'Twas silence all-he laid him down,
Where purple heath profusely strown,
And throatwort with its azure bell,!!
And moss and thyme his cushion swell.
There, spent with toil, he listless eyed
The course of Greta's playful tide;
Beneath, her banks now eddying dun,
Now brightly gleaming to the sun,
As, dancing over rock and stone,
In yellow light her currents shone,
Matching in hue the favourite gem
Of Albin's mountain-diadem.
Then, tired to watch the current's play,
He turned his weary eyes away,
To where the bank opposing show'd
Its huge square cliffs through shaggy wood.
One, prominent above the rest,

Rear'd to the sun its pale gray breast;
Around its broken summit

grew
The hazel rude, and sable yew;
A thousand varied lichens dyed
Its waste and weather-beaten side,
And round its rugged basis lay,
By time or thunder rent away,
Fragments, that, from its frontlet torn,
Were mantled now by verdant thorn.
Such was the scene's wild majesty,
That fill'd stern Bertram's gazing eye.**
IX.

In sullen mood he lay reclin'd,
Revolving, in his stormy mind,
The felon deed, the fruitless guilt,
His patron's blood by treason spilt;
A crime, it seem'd, so dire and dread,
That it had power to wake the dead."
Then, pondering on his life betray'd+f
By Oswald's art to Redmond's blade,
In treacherous purpose to withhold,
So seem'd it, Mortham's promised gold,
A deep and full revenge he vow'd
On Redmond, forward, fierce, and proud;
Revenge on Wilfrid-on his sire
Redoubled vengeance, swift and dire!-
If, in such mood, (as legends say,
And well believed that simple day,)
The Enemy of Man has power
To profit by the evil hour,

Here stood a wretch, prepared to change
His soul's redemption for revenge!##

But though his vows, with such a fire
Of earnest and intense desire

** [The MS. adds:

"Yet as he gazed, he fail'd to find According image touch his mind."] ++ [MS." Then thought he on his life betray'd."Į 1: It is agreed by all the writers upon magic and witchcraft, that revenge was the most common motive for the pretended compact between Satan and his vassals. The ingenuity of Reginald Scot has very happily stated how such an opinion came to root itself, not only in the minds of the public and of the judges, but even in that of the poor wretches themselves who were ac cused of sorcery, and were often firm believers in their own power and their own guilt.

"One sort of such as are said to be witches, are women which be commonly old, lame, blear-eyed, pale, foul, and full of wrin kles: poor, sullen, superstitious, or papists, or such as know no religion; in whose drowsie minds the devil bath gotten a fine seat; so as what mischief, mischance, calamity, or slaughter is brought to pass, they are easily perswaded the same is done by themselves, imprinting in their minds an earnest and constant imagination thereof... These go from house to house, and

For vengeance dark and fell, were made,*
As well might reach hell's lowest shade,
No deeper clouds the grove embrown'd,
No nether thunders shook the ground;-
The demon knew his vassal's heart,
And spared temptation's needless art.t

X.

Oft, mingled with the direful theme,
Came Mortham's form-Was it a dream?
Or had he seen in vision true,
That very Mortham whom he slew?
Or had in living flesh appear'd
The only man on earth he fear'd-
To try the mystic cause intent,

His eyes, that on the cliff were bent,
'Counter'd at once a dazzling glance,

Like sunbeam flash'd from sword or lance.
At once he started as for fight,

But not a foeman was in sight;

He heard the cushat's murmur hoarse,

He heard the river's sounding course;

The solitary woodlands lay,

As slumbering in the summer ray.
He gazed, like lion roused, around,
Then sunk again upon the ground.
'Twas but, he thought, some fitful beam,
Glanced sudden from the sparkling stream;
Then plunged him from his gloomy train
Of ill-connected thoughts again,
Until a voice behind him cried,
"Bertram! well met on Greta side."

XI.

Instant his sword was in his hand,
As instant sunk the ready brand;
Yet, dubious still, opposed he stood
To him that issued from the wood:
"Guy Denzil!-is it thou ?" he said;
"Do we two meet in Scargill shade!-
Stand back a space!--thy purpose show,
Whether thou comest as friend or foe.
Report hath said, that Denzil's name

From Rokeby's band was razed with shame."-
"A shame I owe that hot O'Neale,
Who told his knight, in peevish zeal,
Of my marauding on the clowns
Of Calverley and Bradford downs.§

I reck not. In a war to strive,

Where, save the leaders, none can thrive.
Suits ill my mood; and better game
Awaits us both, if thou'rt the same
Unscrupulous, bold Risingham,

Who watch'd with me in midnight dark,
To snatch a deer from Rokeby-park.

from door to door, for a pot of milk, yest, drink, pottage, or some such relief, without the which they could hardly live; neither obtaming for their service or pains, nor yet by their art, nor yet at the devil's hands, (with whom they are said to make a perfect and visible bargain,) either beauty, money, promotion, wealth, pleasure, honour, knowledge, learning, or any other benefit what

soever.

It falleth out many a time, that neither their necessities nor their expectation is answered or served in those places where they beg or borrow, but rather their lewdness is by their neighbours reproved. And farther, in tract of time the witch waxeth odious and tedious to her neighbours, and they again are despised and despited of her; so as sometimes she curseth one, and sometimes another, and that from the master of the house, his wife, children, cattle, &c., to the little pig that lieth in the stic. Thus, in process of time, they have all displeased her, and she hath wished evil luck unto them all; perhaps with curses and impre cations made in form. Doubtless (at length) some of her neighbours die or fall sick, or some of their children are visited with diseases that vex them strangely, as apoplexies, epilepsies, convulsions, hot fevers, worms, &c., which, by ignorant parents, are supposed to be the vengeance of witches.

The witch on the other side, expecting her neighbours' mischances, and seeing things sometimes come to pass according to her wishes, curses, and incantations, (for Bodin himself confesses, that not above two in a hundred of their witchings or wishings take effect,) being called before a justice, by due examination of the circumstances, is driven to see her imprecations and desires, and het neighbours' harms and losses, to concur, and, as it were, to take effect; and so confesseth that she (as a goddess) hath brought such things to pass. Wherein not only she, but the ac cur and also the justice, are fully deceived and abused, as being, through her confession, and other circumstances, perswaded (to the injury of God's glory) that she hath done, or can do. that which is proper only to God himself."-Scor's Discovery of Witchcraft. Lond. 1655, fol. p. 4, 5.

[MS." For deep and dark revenge were made,

As well might wake hell's lowest shade."]

How think'st thou ?"-" Speak thy purpose out; I love not mystery or doubt."

XII.

"Then, list.-Not far there lurk a crew

Of trusty comrades, stanch and true,
Glean'd from both factions-Roundheads, freed
From cant of sermon and of creed;
And Cavaliers, whose souls, like mine,
Spurn at the bonds of discipline.
Wiser, we judge, by dale and wold,
A warfare of our own to hold,
Than breathe our last on battle-down,
For cloak or surplice, mace or crown.
Our schemes are laid, our purpose set,
A chief and leader lack we yet.-
Thou art a wanderer, it is said;

For Mortham's death, thy steps way-laid,
Thy head at price-so say our spies,
Who range the valley in disguise.
Join then with us :--though wild debate
And wrangling rend our infant state,
Each to an equal loath to bow,

Will yield to chief renown'd as thou."

XIII.

"Even now," thought Bertram, "passion-stirr'd,

I call'd on hell, and hell has heard !**

What lack I, vengeance to command,
But of stanch comrades such a band?tt

This Denzil, vow'd to every evil,

Might read a lesson to the devil.

Well, be it so! each knave and fool
Shall serve as my revenge's tool."-
Aloud, "I take thy proffer, Guy,

But tell me where thy comrades lie?"-
"Not far from hence," Guy Denzil said
"Descend, and cross the river's bed,
Where rises yonder cliff so gray."-

"Do thou," said Bertram, "lead the way."
Then mutter'd, "It is best make sure;
Guy Denzil's faith was never pure."
He follow'd down the steep descent,

Then through the Greta's streams they went;
And, when they reach'd the farther shore,
They stood the lonely cliff before.

XIV.

With wonder Bertram heard within
The flinty rock a murmur'd din:
But when Guy pull'd the wilding spray,
And brambles, from its base away,

He saw, appearing to the air,

A little entrance, low and square,
Like opening cell of hermit lone,
Dark, winding through the living stone.

["Bertram is now alone: the landscape around is truly grand, partially illuminated by the sun; and we are reminded of the scene in The Robbers, in which something of a similar contrast is exhibited between the beauties of external nature and the agitations of human passion. It is in such pictures that Mr. Scott delights and excels."-Monthly Review. One is surprised that the reviewer did not quote Milton rather than Schiller:

-"The fiend

Saw undelighted all delight."-ED.]

: [MS.-"Look'd round -no foeman was in sight."] $ The troops of the King, when they first took the field, were as well disciplined as could be expected from circumstances. But as the circumstances of Charles became less favourable, and his funds for regularly paying his forces decreased, habits of military license prevailed among them in greater excess. Lacy the player, who served his master during the Civil War, brought out, after the Restoration, a piece called The Old Troop, in which he seems to have commemorated some real incidents which occurred in his military career. The names of the officers of the Troop sufficiently express their habits. We have Flea-flint PlunderMaster-General, Captain Ferret-farm, and Quarter Master Burndrop. The officers of the Troop are in league with these wor thies, and connive at their plundering the country for a suitable share in the booty. All this was undoubtedly drawn from the life, which Lacy had an opportunity to study. The moral of the whole is comprehended in a rebuke given to the lieutenant, whose disorders in the country are sud to prejudice the King's cause more than his courage in the field could recompense. The piece is by no means void of farcical humour.

[MS. Unscrupulous, gallant Risingham."] TIMS.-Thy nead at price, thy steps way-laid." ** [.. "I but half wish'd

To see the devil, and he's here already."-OTWAY.
[MS." What lack I my revenge to quench,
But such a band of comrades stanch ?"]

:: [MS.-" But when Guy Denzil pull'd the spray,
And brambles, from its roots away,
He saw, forth issuing to the air."]

520

Here enter'd Denzil, Bertram here;
And loud and louder on their ear,
As from the bowels of the earth,
Resounded shouts of boisterous mirth.
Of old, the cavern strait and rude,
In slaty rock the peasant hew'd;

And Brignall's woods, and Scargill's wave,
E'en now, o'er many a sister cave,*
Where, far within the darksome rift,
The wedge and lever ply their thrift.
But war had silenced rural trade,
And the deserted mine was made
The banquet-hall and fortress too,
Of Denzil and his desperate crew.-
There Guilt his anxious revel kept;
There, on his sordid pallet, slept
Guilt-born Excess, the goblet drain'd
Still in his slumbering grasp retain'd;
Regret was there, his eye still cast
With vain repining on the past;
Among the feasters waited near
Sorrow, and unrepentant Fear,
And Blasphemy, to frenzy driven,

With his own crimes reproaching heaven;
While Bertram show'd, amid the crew,
The Master-Fiend that Milton drew.

XV.

Hark! the loud revel wakes again,
To greet the leader of the train.
Behold the group by the pale lamp,
That struggles with the earthy damp.

By what strange features Vice hath known,
To single out and mark her own!
Yet some there are, whose brows retain
Less deeply stamp'd her brand and stain.
See yon pale stripling!t when a boy,
A mother's pride, a father's joy!

Now, 'gainst the vault's rude walls reclined,
An early image fills his mind:

The cottage, once his sire's, he sees,
Embower'd upon the banks of Tees;
He views sweet Winston's woodland scene,
And shares the dance on Gainford-green.
A tear is springing-but the zest
Of some wild tale, or brutal jest,
Hath to loud laughter stirr'd the rest.
On him they call, the aptest mate
For jovial song and merry feat:

Fast flies his dream-with dauntless air,
As one victorious o'er despair,
He bids the ruddy cup go round,

Till sense and sorrow both are drown'd;
And soon, in merry wassail, he,‡
The life of all their revelry,

Peals his loud song!-The muse has found
Her blossoms on the wildest ground,
Mid noxious weeds at random strew'd,
Themselves all profitless and rude.-
With desperate merriment he sung,
The cavern to the chorus rung;
Yet mingled with his reckless glee
Remorse's bitter agony.

XVI.

SONG.

O, Brignall banks are wild and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there,
Would grace a summer queen.
And as I rode by Dalton-hall,
Beneath the turrets high,

A maiden on the castle wall

Was singing merrily,-

*The banks of the Greta, below Rutherford Bridge, abound in seams of grayish slate, which are wrought in some places to a very great depth under ground, thus forming artificial caverns, which, when the seam has been exhausted, are gradually hidden by the underwood which grows in profusion upon the romantic banks of the river. In times of public confusion, they might be well adapted to the purposes of banditti.

["We should here have concluded our remarks on the characters of the drama, had not one of its subordinate personages been touched with a force of imagination, which renders it wor thy even of prominent regard and attention. The poet has just presented us with the picture of a gang of banditti, on which he has bestowed some of the most gloomy colouring of his powerful

CHORUS.

"And, O! though Brignall banks be fair,
And Greta woods be gay,

Yet mickle must the maiden dare,
Would reign my Queen of May!
XVIII.

"Maiden! a nameless life I lead,

A nameless death I'll die;

The fiend whose lantern lights the mead,s
Were better mate than I!

And when I'm with my comrades met,"

Beneath the greenwood bough,

What once we were we all forget,
Nor think what we are now.
CHORUS.

"Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there
Would grace a summer queen."
When Edmund ceased his simple song,
Was silence on the sullen throng,
Till waked some ruder mate their glee
With note of coarser minstrelsy.
But, far apart, in dark divan,
Denzil and Bertram, many a plan,
Of import foul and fierce, design'd,
While still on Bertram's grasping mind
The wealth of murder'd Mortham hung;
Though half he fear'd his daring tongue,
When it should give his wishes birth, T
Might raise a spectre from the earth!

pencil. In the midst of this horrible group, is distinguished the exquisitely natural and interesting portrait which follows:See yon pale stripling!' &c.")

Critical Review.

[MS.-" And soon the loudest wassailer he, And life of all their revelry."]

$ [MS." The goblin-light on fen or mead."] [MS." And were I with my true love set Under the greenwood bough. What once I was she must forget, Nor think what I am now."]

XIX.

At length his wondrous tale he told :
When, scornful, smiled his comrade bold;
For, train'd in license of a court,
Religion's self was Denzil's sport;
Then judge in what contempt he held
The visionary tales of eld!

His awe for Bertram scarce repress'd
The unbeliever's sneering jest.

"Twere hard," he said, "for sage or seer,*
To spell the subject of your fear;
Nor do I boast the art renown'd,
Vision and omen to expound.
Yet, faith if I must needs afford
To spectre watching treasured hoard,
As bandog keeps his master's roof,
Bidding the plunderer stand aloof,
This doubt remains-thy goblin gaunt
Hath chosen ill his ghostly haunt;
For why his guard on Mortham hold,
When Rokeby castle hath the gold
Tay patron won on Indian soil,t
By stealth, by piracy, and spoil?"-
XX.

At this he paused-for angry shame
Lower'd on the brow of Risingham.
He blush'd to think, that he should seem
Assertor of an airy dream,

And gave his wrath another theme.
"Denzil," he says, though lowly laid,
Wrong not the memory of the dead;
For, while he lived, at Mortham's look
Thy very soul, Guy Denzil, shook!
And when he tax'd thy breach of word
To yon fair Rose of Allenford,

I saw thee crouch like chasten'd hound,
Whose back the huntsman's lash hath found.
Nor dare to call his foreign wealth
The spoil of piracy or stealth;

He won it bravely with his brand,

When Spain waged warfare with our land.§
Mark, too-I brook no idle jeer,

Nor couple Bertram's name with fear;
Mine is but half the demon's lot,
For I believe, but tremble not.-
Enough of this.--Say, why this hoard
Thou deem'st at Rokeby castle stored;
Or think'st that Mortham would bestow
His treasure with his faction's foe?"

XXI.

Soon quench'd was Denzil's ill-timed mirth;
Rather he would have seen the earth
Give to ten thousand spectres birth,
Than venture to awake to flame
The deadly wrath of Risingham.
Submiss he answer'd,-" Mortham's mind,
Thou know'st to joy was ill inclined.
In youth, 'tis said, a gallant free,
A lusty reveller was he;

(MS-Twere hard, my friend,' he said, 'to spell
The morning vision that you tell;
Nor am I seer, for art renown'd,
Dark dreams and omens to expound.
Yet, if my faith I must afford,'

[MS.

: [MS

"hath his gold,

&c.]

The gold he won on indian soil."]
-like rated hound."]

5 There was a short war with Spain in 1625-6, which will be found to agree pretty well with the chronology of the poem. But probably Bertram held an opinion very common among the ma time heroes of the age, that there was no peace beyond the Line." The Spanish guarda costas were constantly employed in aggressions upon the trade and settlements of the English and French, and, by their own severities, gave room for the system of buraniering, at first adopted in self-defence and retaliation, and afterwards persevered in from habit and thirst of plunder. IMS." Denzil's mood of mirth;

He would have rather seen the earth," &c.]

[The MS. has not this couplet.]

There was a laughing devil in his sneer,
That raised emotions both of rage and fear;
And where his frown of hatred darkly fell,
Hope withering fled-and Mercy sigh'd farewell."
BYRON'S Works, vol. ix. p. 272.]

[MS.-"And when the bloody fight was done,

> his

I wrangled for the share he won."

The laws of the Bucaniers, and their successors the Pirates, VOL. L-3 N

But since return'd from over sea,

A sullen and a silent mood

Hath numb'd the current of his blood.
Hence he refused each kindly call
To Rokeby's hospitable hall,

And our stout knight, at dawn of morn
Who loved to hear the bugle-horn,
Nor less, when eve his oaks embrown'd,
To see the ruddy cup go round,
Took umbrage that a friend so near
Refused to share his chase and cheer;
Thus did the kindred barons jar,
Ere they divided in the war.

Yet, trust me, friend, Matilda fair
Of Mortham's wealth is destined heir."-

་་

XXII.
'Destined to her! to yon slight maid!
The prize my life had wellnigh paid,
When 'gainst Laroche, by Cayo's wave,
I fought my patron's wealth to save!-¶
Denzil, I knew him long, yet ne'er
Knew him that joyous cavalier,
Whom youthful friends and early fame
Call'd soul of gallantry and game.
A moody man, he sought our crew,
Desperate and dark, whom no one knew
And rose, as men with us must rise
By scorning life and all its ties.
On each adventure rash he roved,
As danger for itself he loved;

On his sad brow nor mirth nor wine
Could e'er one wrinkled knot untwine;
Ill was the omen if he smiled,
For 'twas in peril stern and wild;

But when he laugh'd, each luckless mate
Might hold our fortune desperate.**
Foremost he fought in every broil,
Then scornful turn'd him from the spoil;
Nay, often strove to bar the way
Between his comrades and their prey;
Preaching, even then, to such as we,
Hot with our dear-bought victory,
Of mercy and humanity.

XXIII.

"I loved him well-His fearless part,
His gallant leading, won my heart.
And after each victorious fight,
'Twas I that wrangled for his right,tt
Redeem'd his portion of the prey
That greedier mates had torn away;
In field and storm thrice saved his life,
And once amid our comrades' strife.-#
Yes, I have loved thee! Well hath proved
My toil, my danger, how I loved!
Yet will I mourn no more thy fate,
Ingrate in life, in death ingrate.
Rise if thou canst!" he look'd around,
And sternly stamp'd upon the ground-
"Rise with thy bearing proud and high,

however severe and equitable, were, like other laws, often set aside by the stronger party. Their quarrels about the division of the spoil fill their history, and they as frequently arose out of mere frolic, or the tyrannical humour of their chiefs. An anecdote of Teach, (called Blackbeard,) shows that their habitual indifference for human life extended to their companions, as well as their enemies and captives.

"One night, drinking in his cabin with Hands, the pilot, and another man, Blackbeard, without any provocation, privately draws out a small pair of pistols, and cocks them under the table, which, being perceived by the man, he withdrew upon deck, leaving Hands, the pilot, and the captain together. When the pistols were ready, he blew out the candles, and, crossing his hands, discharged them at his company. Hands, the master, was shot through the knee, and lamed for life; the other pistol did no execution."-JOHNSON'S History of Pirates. Lond. 1724, 8vo. vol. i. p. 38.

Another anecdote of this worthy may be also mentioned, "The hero of whom we are writing was thoroughly accomplished this way, and some of his frolics of wickedness were so extravagant, as if he aimed at making his men believe he was a devil incarnate; for, being one day at sea, and a little flushed with drink, Come,' says he, let us make a hell of our own, and try how long we can bear it. Accordingly, he, with two or three others, went down into the hold, and closing up all the hatches, filled se veral pots full of brimstone and other combustible matter, and set it on fire, and so continued till they were almost suffocated, when some of the men cried out for air. At length he opened the hatches, not a little pleased that he held out the longest."Ibid, p. 90.