"To Learmont's name no foot of earth Shall here again belong, The hare shall leave her young. Farewell to Ercildoune!" The hart and hind approach'd the place, With them he cross'd the flood. Lord Douglas leap'd on his berry-brown steed, Some said to hill, and some to glen, GLENFINLAS ; on, LORD RONALD'S CORONACH.' BY W. SCOTT. "For them the viewless forms of air obey,' Their bidding heed, and at their beck repair; They know what spirit brews the stormful day, And heartless oft, like moody madness stare, To see the phantom-train their secret work prepare." COLLINS. The simple tradition, upon which the following stanzas are founded, runs thus: While two Highland hunters were passing the night in a solitary bothy, (a hut, built for the purpose of hunting,) and making merry over their venison and whisky, one of them expressed a wish that they had pretty lasses to complete their party. The words were scarcely uttered, when two beautiful young women, habited in green, entered the hut, dancing and singing. One of the hunters was seduced by the siren who attached herself particularly to him, to leave the hut: the other remained, and, suspicious of the fair seducers, continued to play upon a trump, or Jew's harp, some strain, consecrated to the Virgin Mary. Day at length came, and the temptress vanished. Searching in the forest, he found the bones of his unfortunate friend, who had been torn to pieces and devoured by the fiend into whose toils he had fallen. The place was from thence called the Glen of the Green Women. Glenfinlas is a tract of forest-ground, lying in the Highlands of Perthshire, not far from Callender, in Menteith. It was formerly a royal forest, and now belongs to the Earl of Moray. This country, as well as the adjacent district of Balquidder, was, in times of yore, chiefly inhabited by the Macgregors. To the west of the Forest of Glenfinlas lies Loch Katrine, and its romantic avenue, called the Troshachs. Benledi, Benmore, and Benvoirlich, are mountains in the same district, and at no great distance from Glenfinlas. The river Teith passes Callender and the Castle of Doune, and joins the Forth near Stirling. The Pass of Lenny is immediately above Callender, and is the principal access to the Highlands, from that town. Glenartney is a forest, near Benvoirlich. The whole forms a sublime tract of Alpine scenery. This ballad first appeared in the Tales of Wonder.. Coronach is the lamentation for a deceased warrior, sung by | poetry, reappears in the Lady of the Lake, in Waverley, and in the aged of the clan. Rob Roy.-ED.] But o'er his hills, in festal day, How blazed Lord Ronald's beltane-tree,' While youths and maids the light strathspey So nimbly danced with Highland glee! Cheer'd by the strength of Ronald's shell, The joys of Ronald's halls to find, He waked his harp's harmonious sound. Was never meant for mortal ear. For there, 'tis said in mystic mood, High converse with the dead they hold, And oft espy the fated shroud, That shall the future corpse enfold. O so it fell, that on a day, To rouse the red deer from their den, The Chiefs have ta'en their distant way, And scour'd the deep Glenfinlas glen. No vassals wait their sports to aid, To watch their safety, deck their board; Their simple dress, the Highland plaid, Their trusty guard, the Highland sword. Three summer days, through brake and dell, Their whistling shafts successful flew; And still, when dewy evening fell, In grey Glenfinlas' deepest nook The solitary cabin stood, Fast by Moneira's sullen brook, Which murmurs through that lonely wood. Soft fell the night, the sky was calm, When three successive days had flown; And summer mist in dewy balm Steep'd heathy bank, and mossy stone. The fires lighted by the Highlanders on the first of May, in compliance with a custom derived from the Pagan times, are termed The Beltane-tree. It is a festival celebrated with various superstitious rites, both in the north of Scotland and in Wales. a I can only describe the second sight, by adopting Dr. Johnson's definition, who calls it "An impression, either by the mind upon the eye, or by the eye upon the mind, by which things distant and future are perceived and seen as if they were present." To which I would only add, that the spectral appearances, thus presented, usually presage misfortune; that the faculty is painful to those who suppose they possess it; and that they usually acquire it while themselves under the pressure of melancholy. 3 St. Oran was a friend and follower of St. Columba, and was The moon, half-hid in silvery flakes, Her panting breath and melting eye? The daughters of the proud Glengyle. "Long have I sought sweet Mary's heart, And dropp'd the tear, and heaved the sigh: But vain the lover's wily art, Beneath a sister's watchful eye. "But thou mayst teach that guardian fair, While far with Mary I am flown, Of other hearts to cease her care, And find it hard to guard her own. Hang on thy notes, 'twixt tear and smile. "Or, if she choose a melting tale, All underneath the green wood bough, Will good St. Oran's rule prevail, 3 Stern huntsman of the rigid brow?"— "Since Enrick's fight, since Morna's death, No more on me shall rapture rise, Responsive to the panting breath, Or yielding kiss, or melting eyes. "E'en then, when o'er the heath of woe, Where sunk my hopes of love and fame, I bade my harp's wild wailings flow, With ghastly sights and sounds of woe, buried in Icolmkill. His pretensions to be a saint were rather dubious. According to the legend, he consented to be buried alive, in order to propitiate certain demons of the soil, who obstructed the attempts of Columba to build a chapel. Columba caused the body of his friend to be dug up, after three days had elapsed; when Oran, to the horror and scandal of the assistants, declared, that there was neither a God, a judgment, nor a future state! He had no time to make further discoveries, for Columba caused the earth once more to be shovelled over him with the utmost despatch. The chapel, however, and the cemetery, was called Relig Ouran; and, in memory of his rigid celibacy, no female was permitted to pay her devotions, or be buried, in that place. This is the rule alluded to in the poem. "The bark thou saw'st, yon summer morn, So gaily part from Oban's bay, Thou saw'st, with pride, the gallant's power, "Thou only saw'st their tartans' wave, As down Benvoirlich's side they wound, "I heard the groans, I mark'd the tears, "I see the death-damps chill thy brow; I hear thy Warning Spirit cry; The corpse-lights dance-they're gone, and now... No more is given to gifted eye! "Alone enjoy thy dreary dreams, Say, should we scorn joy's transient beams, My Mary's buskins brush the dew." Within an hour return'd each hound; In rush'd the rousers of the deer; They howl'd in melancholy sound, Then closely couch'd beside the seer. No Ronald yet; though midnight came, And sad were Moy's prophetic dreans, As, bending o'er the dying flame, He fed the watch-fire's quivering gleams. And sudden cease their moaning howl; 1 Tartans-The full Highland dress, made of the chequered stuff so termed. And by the watch-fire's glimmering light, All dropping wet her garments seem; His shoulders bear the hunter's bow, Far on the wind his tartans flow?""And who art thou? and who are they?" All ghastly gazing, Moy replied : "And why, beneath the moon's pale ray, Dare ye thus roam Glenfinlas' side?""Where wild Loch Katrine pours her tide, Blue, dark, and deep, round many an isle, Our father's towers o'erhang her side, The castle of the bold Glengyle. "To chase the dun Glenfinlas deer, Our woodland course this morn we bore, And haply met, while wandering here, The son of great Macgillianore. "O aid me, then, to seek the pair, Whom, loitering in the woods, I lost; Alone, I dare not venture there, Where walks, they say, the shrieking ghost." "Yes, many a shrieking ghost walks there;" Then first, my own sad vow to keep, Here will I pour my midnight prayer, Which still must rise when mortals sleep." "O first, for pity's gentle sake, Guide a lone wanderer on her way! So shall we safely wend our way." "O shame to knighthood, strange and foul! To wanton Morna's melting eye." Pibroch-A piece of martial music, adapted to the Highland bagpipe. Wild stared the minstrel's eyes of flame, And high his sable locks arose, Thy sire, the Monarch of the Mine." His wildest witch-notes on the wind; And loud, and high, and strange, they rung, As many a magic change they find. Tall wax'd the Spirit's altering form, But not a lock of Moy's loose hair Was waved by wind, or wet by dew. Wild mingling with the howling gale, Loud bursts of ghastly laughter rise; The voice of thunder shook the wood, St. Fillan has given his name to many chapels, holy fountains, etc. in Scotland. He was, according to Camerarius, an Abbot of Pittenween, in Fife; from which situation he retired, and died a hermit in the wilds of Glenurchy, A. D. 649. While engaged in transcribing the Scriptures, his left hand was observed to send forth such a splendour, as to afford light to that with which he wrote; a miracle which saved many candles to the convent, as St. Fillan used to spend whole nights in that exercise. The 9th of January was dedicated to this saint, who gave his name to Kilfillan, in Renfrew, and St. Phillans, or Forgend, in Fife. Lesley, lib. 7, tells us, that Robert the Bruce was possessed of Fillan's miraculous and luminous arm, which he enclosed in a silver shrine, and had it carried at the head of his army. Previous to the battle of Bannockburn, the king's chaplain, a man of little faith, abstracted the relic, and deposited it in some place of security, lest it should fall into the hands of the English. But, lo! while Robert was addressing his prayers to the empty casket, it was observed to open and shut suddenly; and, on inspection, the saint was found to have himself deposited his arm in the shrine, as an assurance of victory. Such is the tale of Lesley. But though Bruce little needed that the arm of St. Fillan should assist his own, he dedicated to him, in gratitude, a priory at Killin, upon Loch Tay. In the Scots Magazine for July, 1802, there is a copy of a very Next dropp'd from high a mangled arm; The fingers strain'd an half-drawn blade : And last, the life-blood streaming warm, Torn from the trunk, a gasping head. Oft o'er that head, in battling field, Stream'd the proud crest of high Benmore; That arm the broad claymore could wield, Which dyed the Teith with Saxon gore. Woe to Moneira's sullen rills! Woe to Glenfiulas' dreary glen! At noon shall shun that sheltering den, The pride of Albin's line is o'er! THE EVE OF ST. JOHN. BY WALTER SCOTT. Smaylho'me, or Smallholm Tower, the scene of the following ballad, is situated on the northern boundary of Roxburghshire, among a cluster of wild rocks, called Sandiknow-Crags, the property of Hugh Scott, Esq. of Harden. The tower is a high square building, surrounded by an outer wall, now ruinous. The circuit of the outer court, being defended on three sides, by a precipice and morass, is curious crown grant, dated 44th July, 4487, by which James III. Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel, "This place is rendered interesting to poetical readers, by its having been the residence, in early life, of Mr. Walter Scott, who has celebrated it in his 'Eve of St. John. To it he probably alludes in the introduction to the third canto of Marmion, |