brought with me but a few of these, they would have been of more value than all we could hope for in a thousand wrecks; but they were so closely wedged in, and so strongly cemented by time, that they were not to be unfastened. I saw several chains, carcanets, and rings, of all manner of precious stones, finely cut, and set after our manner, which, I suppose, had been the prize of the winds and waves: these were hanging loosely on the jasper walls, by strings made of rushes, which I might easily have taken down; but, as I had edged myself within half a foot reach of them, I was unfortunately drawn back through your want of line. In my return I saw several comely mermen, and beautiful mermaids, the inhabitants of this blissful realm swiftly descending towards it; but they seemed frighted at my appearance, and glided at a distance from me, taking me, no doubt, for some monstrous and new-created species."-WALDRON,ibidem.

It would be very easy to enlarge this introduction, by quoting a variety of authors, concerning the supposed existence of these marine people. The reader may consult the Telliamed of M. Maillet, who, in support of the Neptunist system of geology, has collected a variety of legends, respecting mermen and mermaids, p. 230. et sequen. Much information may also be derived from Pontopiddan's Natural History of Norway, who fails not to people her seas with this amphibious race. An older authority is to be found in the Kongs shugg-sio, or Royal Mirror, written, as it is believed, about 1170. The mermen, there mentioned, are termed hafstrambur (sea-giants), and are said to have the upper parts resembling the human race; but the author, with becoming diffidence, declines to state, positively, whether they are equipped with a dolphin's tail. The female monster is called Mar-Gyga (sea-giantess), and is averred certainly to drag a fish's train. She appears generally in the act of devouring fish, which she has caught. According to the apparent voracity of her appetite, the sailors pretend to guess what chance they have of saving their lives in the tempests, which always followed her appearance.-Speculum Regale, 1768, p. 166.

Mermaids were sometimes supposed to be possessed of supernatural power. Resenius, in his Life of Frederick II., gives us an account of a siren, who not only prophesied future events, but, as might have been expected from the element in which she dwelt, preached vehemently against the sin of drunkenness. The mermaid of Corrivrekin possessed the power of occasionally resigning her scaly train; and the Celtic tradition bears, that when, from choice or necessity, she was invested with that appendage, her manners were more stern and savage than when her form was entirely human. Of course, she warned her lover not to come into her presence when she

I believe something to the same purpose may be found in the school editions of Guthrie's Geographical Grammar; a work which, though in general as sober and dull as could be desired by the gravest preceptor, becomes of a sudden uncommonly lively, upon the subject of the seas of Norway; the author having thought

was thus transformed. This belief is alluded to in the following ballad.

66

66

The beauty of the sirens is celebrated in the old romances of chivalry. Dooling, upon beholding, for the first time in his life, a beautiful female, exclaims, "Par sainte Marie, si belle creature ne vis je oncque "en ma vie! Je crois que c'est un ange du ciel ou une seraine de mer; je crois que homme n'engendra 'oncque si belle creature.”—La Fleur de Battailles. I cannot help adding, that some late evidence has been produced, serving to show, either that imagination played strange tricks with the witnesses, or that the existence of mermaids is no longer a matter of question. I refer to the letters written to Sir John Sinclair, by the spectators of such a phenomenon, in the bay of Sandside, in Caithness.

To brighter charms depart, my simple lay,
Than graced of old the maid of Colonsay,
When her fond lover lessening from her view,
With eyes reverted o'er the surge withdrew;
But happier still, should lovely Campbell sing
Thy plaintive numbers to the trembling string.
The mermaid's melting strains would yield to thee,
Though pour'd diffusive o'er the silver sea.

Go boldly forth-but ah! the listening throng,
Rapt by the siren, would forget the song!
Lo! while they pause, nor dare to gaze around,
Afraid to break the soft enchanting sound,
While swells to sympathy each fluttering heart,
'Tis not the poet's, but the siren's art.

Go forth, devoid of fear, my simple lay! First heard, returning from lona's bay, When round our bark the shades of evening drew, And broken slumbers prest our weary crew. While round the prow the sea-fire, flashing bright, Shed a strange lustre o'er the waste of night; While harsh and dismal scream'd the diving gull, Round the dark rocks that wall the coast of Mull; As through black reefs we held our venturous way, I caught the wild traditionary lay;A wreath, no more in black Iona's isle To bloom-but graced by high-born Beauty's smile.

J. L.

meet to adopt the Right Reverend Erick Pontopiddan's account of mermen, sea-snakes, and krakens.

* [Daughter of John, fifth Duke of Argyle-now Lady Charlotte Bury.-1833.]

THE MERMAID.

On Jura's heath how sweetly swell

The murmurs of the mountain bee! How softly mourns the writhed shell Of Jura's shore, its parent sea!

But softer, floating o'er the deep,

The mermaid's sweet sea-soothing lay, That charm'd the dancing waves to sleep, Before the bark of Colonsay.

Aloft the purple pennons wave,

As parting gay from Crinan's shore, From Morven's wars the seamen brave Their gallant chieftain homeward bore.

In youth's gay bloom, the brave Macphail Still blamed the lingering bark's delay; For her he chid the flagging sail,

The lovely maid of Colonsay.

"And raise," he cried, "the song of love, The maiden sung with tearful smile, When first, o'er Jura's hills to rove, We left afar the lonely isle!"When on this ring of ruby red

Shall die,' she said, 'the crimson hue, Know that thy favourite fair is dead,

Or proves to thee and love untrue.'"

Now, lightly poised, the rising oar

Disperses wide the foamy spray, And, echoing far o'er Crinan's shore, Resounds the song of Colonsay. "Softly blow, thou western breeze, Softly rustle through the sail! Soothe to rest the furrowy seas, Before my love, sweet western gale! 1

"Where the wave is tinged with red,
And the russet sea-leaves grow,
Mariners, with prudent dread,

Shun the shelving reefs below.
"As you pass through Jura's sound,
Bend your course by Scarba's shore,
Shun, O shun, the gulf profound,

Where Corrivrekin's surges roar!

["Without the preface, Mr. Leyden's Mermaid, though composed in pretty stanzas, would be unintelligible. The style is likewise too fine and recherché, and not wholly free from an affectation of quaintness; but this, and the seven subsequent stanzas, are graceful and soothing."-Monthly Review, October, 1804.]

"They who, in works of navigation, on the coast of Norway, employ themselves in fishing or merchandise, do all agree in this strange story, that there is a serpent there, which is of vast magnitude, namely, two hundred feet long, and moreover twenty feet thick; and is wont to live in rocks and caves, toward the sea-coast about Berge; which will go alone from his holes, in a clear night in summer, and devour calves, lambs, and hogs; or else he goes into the sea to feed on polypus, locusts, and all sorts of sca-crabs. He hath commonly hair hanging from his neck a cubit long, and sharp scales, and is black, and he hath flaming shining eyes. This

"If, from that unbottomed deep,

With wrinkled form and wreathed train, O'er the verge of Scarba's steep,

The sea-snake heave his snowy mane,'

"Unwarp, unwind his oozy coils,

Sea-green sisters of the main, And, in the gulf, where ocean boils,

The unwieldy wallowing monster chain.
"Softly blow, thou western breeze,
Softly rustle through the sail!
Soothe to rest the furrow'd seas,

Before my love, sweet western gale!"
Thus, all to soothe the Chieftain's woe,
Far from the maid he loved so dear,
The song arose, so soft and slow,
He seem'd her parting sigh to hear.
The lonely deck he paces o'er,

Impatient for the rising day,
And still, from Crinan's moonlight shore,
He turns his eyes to Colonsay.

The moonbeams crisp the curling surge,

That streaks with foam the ocean green: While forward still the rowers urge

Their course, a female form was seen.
That sea-maid's form, of pearly light,
Was whiter than the downy spray,
And round her bosom, heaving bright,
Her glossy, yellow ringlets play.
Borne on a foamy-crested wave,

She reach'd amain the bounding prow,
Then clasping fast the Chieftain brave,
She, plunging, sought the deep below.

Ah! long beside thy feigned bier,

The monks the prayers of death shall say, And long, for thee, the fruitless tear Shall weep the Maid of Colonsay! But downwards, like a powerless corse, The eddying waves the Chieftain bear; He only heard the moaning hoarse

Of waters, murmuring in his ear. The murmurs sink, by slow degrees;

No more the surges round him rave;

snake disquiets the skippers, and he puts up his head on high, like a pillar, and catcheth away men, and he devours them; and this hapneth not but it signifies some wonderful change of the kingdom near at hand; namely, that the princes shall die, or be banished, or some tumultuous wars shall presentlie follow."-Olaus Magnus, London, 1558, rendered into English by J. S. Much more of the sea-snake may be learned from the credible witnesses cited by Pontoppidan, who saw it raise itself from the sea, twice as high as the mast of their vessel. The tradition probably originates in the immense snake of the Edda, whose folds were supposed to girdle the earth.-J. L.

A sort of sea-snake, of size immense enough to have given rise to this tradition, was thrown ashore upon one of the Orkney Isles, in 1808.-W. S.

Lull'd by the music of the seas, He lies within a coral cave.

In dreamy mood reclines he long,

Nor dares his tranced eyes unclose,
Till, warbling wild, the sea-maid's song,
Far in the crystal cavern, rose;
Soft as that harp's unseen control,

In morning dreams which lovers hear,
Whose strains steal sweetly o'er the soul,
But never reach the waking ear;
As sunbeams through the tepid air,

When clouds dissolve the dews unseen,
Smile on the flowers, that bloom more fair,
And fields, that glow with livelier green-

So melting soft the music fell;

It seem'd to soothe the fluttering spray—

"Say, heard'st thou not these wild notes swell?”— "Ah! 'tis the song of Colonsay."

แ

Like one that from a fearful dream

Awakes, the morning light to view, And joys to see the purple beam,

Yet fears to find the vision true,—

He heard that strain, so wildly sweet,

Which bade his torpid languor fly;
He fear'd some spell had bound his feet,
And hardly dared his limbs to try.
"This yellow sand, this sparry cave,
Shall bend thy soul to beauty's sway;
Canst thou the maiden of the wave

Compare to her of Colonsay?"

Roused by that voice, of silver sound,
From the paved floor he lightly sprung,
And, glancing wild his eyes around,
Where the fair nymph her tresses wrung,

No form he saw of mortal mould;

It shone like ocean's snowy foam; Her ringlets waved in living gold,

Her mirror crystal, pearl her comb. Her pearly comb the siren took,

And careless bound her tresses wild; Still o'er the mirror stole her look,

As on the wondering youth she smiled.

Like music from the greenwood tree,

Again she raised the melting lay; -"Fair warrior, wilt thou dwell with me, And leave the Maid of Colonsay?

"Fair is the crystal hall for me,
With rubies and with emeralds set,
And sweet the music of the sea

Shall sing, when we for love are met.
"How sweet to dance, with gliding feet,
Along the level tide so green,
Responsive to the cadence sweet,

That breathes along the moonlight scene!

"And soft the music of the main

Rings from the motley tortoise-shell,
While moonbeams, o'er the watery plain,
Seem trembling in its fitful swell.

"How sweet, when billows heave their head,
And shake their snowy crests on high,
Serene in Ocean's sapphire-bed,
Beneath the tumbling surge, to lie;

"To trace, with tranquil step, the deep,
Where pearly drops of frozen dew
In concave shells, unconscious, sleep,
Or shine with lustre, silvery blue!
"Then shall the summer sun, from far,

Pour through the wave a softer ray,
While diamonds, in a bower of spar,
At eve shall shed a brighter day.
"Nor storiny wind, nor wintry gale,

That o'er the angry ocean sweep,
Shall e'er our coral groves assail,
Calm in the bosom of the deep.
"Through the green meads beneath the sea,
Enamour'd, we shall fondly stray-

Then, gentle warrior, dwell with me,

And leave the Maid of Colonsay!"—

"Though bright thy locks of glistering gold, Fair maiden of the foamy main!

Thy life-blood is the water cold,
While mine beats high in every vein.

"If I, beneath thy sparry cave,

Should in thy snowy arms recline,
Inconstant as the restless wave,

My heart would grow as cold as thine."
As cygnet down, proud swell'd her breast;
Her eye confest the pearly tear;
His hand she to her bosom press'd—
"Is there no heart for rapture here?
"These limbs, sprung from the lucid sea,
Does no warm blood their current fill,
No heart-pulse riot, wild and free,

To joy, to love's delirious thrill ? "— "Though all the splendour of the sea

Around thy faultless beauty shine, That heart, that riots wild and free,

Can hold no sympathy with mine.

"These sparkling eyes, so wild and gay,
They swim not in the light of love:
The beauteous Maid of Colonsay,
Her eyes are milder than the dove!
"Even now, within the lonely isle,

Her eyes are dim with tears for me;
And canst thou think that siren smile

Can lure my soul to dwell with thee?" An oozy film her limbs o'erspread; Unfolds in length her scaly train :

She toss'd, in proud disdain, her head,
And lash'd, with webbed fin, the main.

"Dwell here, alone!" the mermaid cried, "And view far off the sea-nymphs play; Thy prison-wall, the azure tide,

Shall bar thy steps from Colonsay.

"Whene'er, like Ocean's scaly brood,
I cleave, with rapid fin, the wave,
Far from the daughter of the flood,
Conceal thee in this coral cave.

"I feel my former soul return;

It kindles at thy cold disdain : And has a mortal dared to spurn

A daughter of the foamy main!".

She fled, around the crystal cave

The rolling waves resume their road,

On the broad portal idly rave,

But enter not the nymph's abode.

And many a weary night went by,

As in the lonely cave he lay;
And many a sun roll'd through the sky,
And pour'd its beams on Colonsay;

And oft, beneath the silver moon,
He heard afar the mermaid sing,
And oft, to many a melting tune,

The shell-formed lyres of ocean ring:
And when the moon went down the sky,
Still rose, in dreams, his native plain,
And oft he thought his love was by,

And charm'd him with some tender strain;

And heart-sick, oft he waked to weep,
When ceased that voice of silver sound,
And thought to plunge him in the deep,
That wall'd his crystal cavern round.

But still the ring, of ruby red,

Retain❜d its vivid crimson hue, And each despairing accent fled,

To find his gentle love so true.

When seven long lonely months were gone,
The Mermaid to his cavern came,
No more misshapen from the zone,
But like a maid of mortal frame.

"O give to me that ruby ring,

That on thy finger glances gay,
And thou shalt hear the mermaid sing
The song, thou lovest, of Colonsay."-

"This ruby ring, of crimson grain,

Shall on thy finger glitter gay,

If thou wilt bear me through the main,
Again to visit Colonsay."-

"Except thou quit thy former love,

Content to dwell for aye with me, Thy scorn my finny frame might move, To tear thy limbs amid the sea."

"Then bear me swift along the main,
The lonely isle again to see,
And, when I here return again,

I plight my faith to dwell with thee." An oozy film her limbs o'erspread, While slow unfolds her scaly train, With gluey fangs her hands were clad, She lash'd, with webbed fin, the main. He grasps the mermaid's scaly sides,

As, with broad fin, she oars her way; Beneath the silent moon she glides,

That sweetly sleeps on Colonsay.

Proud swells her heart! she deems at last,
To lure him with her silver tongue,
And, as the shelving rocks she past,
She raised her voice, and sweetly sung.

In softer, sweeter strains she sung,
Slow gliding o'er the moonlight bay,
When light to land the Chieftain sprung,
To hail the Maid of Colonsay.

O sad the mermaid's gay notes fell,
And sadly sink remote at sea!
So sadly mourns the writhed shell
Of Jura's shore, its parent sea.

And ever as the year returns,

The charm-bound sailors know the day; For sadly still the mermaid mourns The lovely Chief of Colonsay.

THE LORD HERRIES HIS COMPLAINT,

A FRAGMENT.

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.

BY CHARLES KIRKPATRICK SHARPE, ESQ.

OF HODDOM.

Hoddom Castle is delightfully situated on the banks of the river Annan. It is an ancient structure, said to have been built betwixt the years 1437 and 1484, by John, Lord Herries of Herries, a powerful Border baron, who possessed extensive domains in Dumfriesshire. This family continued to flourish until the death of William, Lord Herries, in the middle of the 16th century, when it merged in heirs-female. Agnes, the eldest of the daughters of Lord William, was married to John, master of Maxwell, afterwards created Lord Herries, and a strenuous partisan of Queen Mary. The castle and barony of Hoddom were sold about 1630, and were then, or soon afterwards, acquired by John Sharpe, Esq. in whose family they have ever since continued. Before the accession of James VI. to the English crown, Hoddom Castle was appointed to be kept "with ane wise stout man, and to have with him four well-horsed men, and there to have two stark footmen, servants, to keep their horses, and the principal to have ane stout footman."-Border Laws, Appendix.

On the top of a small, but conspicuous hill, near to Hoddom Castle, there is a square tower, built of hewn stone, over the door of which are carved the figures of a dove and a serpent, and betwixt them the word Repentance. Hence the building, though its proper name is Trailtrow, is more frequently called the Tower of Repentance. It was anciently used as a beacon, and the Border laws direct a watch to be maintained there, with a fire-pan and bell, to give the alarm when the English crossed, or approached, the river Annan. This man was to have a husband-land for his service.-SPOTTIS WOODE, p. 306.

Various accounts are given of the cause of erecting the Tower of Repentance. The following has been adopted by my ingenious correspondent, as most susceptible of poetical decoration. A certain Lord Herries-about the date of the transaction tradition is silent-was famous among those who used to rob and steal (convey, the wise it call). This Lord, returning from England, with many prisoners, whom he had unlawfully enthralled, was overtaken by a storm, while passing the Solway Frith, and, in order to relieve his boat, he cut all their throats, and threw them into the sea. Feeling great qualms of conscience, he built this square tower, carving over the door, which is about half-way up the building, and had formerly no stairs to it, the figures above mentioned, of a dove and a serpent, emblems of remorse and grace, and the motto-" Repentance."

I have only to add, that the marauding baron is said, from his rapacity, to have been sirnamed John the Reif; probably in allusion to a popular romance; and that another account says, the sin, of which he repented, was the destruction of a church, or chapel, called Trailtrow, with the stones of which he had built the Castle of Hoddom.-MACFARLANE'S MSS.

It is said, that Sir Richard Steele, while riding near this place, saw a shepherd boy reading his Bible, and asked him what he learned from it? "The way to heaven," answered the boy. "And can you show it to me?" said Sir Richard, in banter. "You must go by that tower," replied the shepherd; and he pointed to the Tower of Repentance.

THE LORD HERRIES HIS COMPLAINT.

Bright shone the moon on Hoddom's wall,
Bright on Repentance Tower;

Mirk was the Lord of Hoddom's saul,
That chief sae sad and sour.

He sat him on Repentance hicht, And glowr'd upon the sea; And sair and heavily he sicht, But nae drap eased his bree.

"The night is fair, and calm the air,
No blasts disturb the tree;
Baith men and beast now tak their rest,
And a's at peace but me.

"Can wealth and power in princely bower, Can beauty's rolling ee,

Can friendship dear, wi' kindly tear,
Bring back my peace to me?

"No! lang lang maun the mourner pine, And meikle penance dree,

Wha has a heavy heart like mine,
Ere light that heart can be.
"Under yon silver skimmering waves,
That saftly rise and fa',

Lie mouldering banes in sandy graves,
That fley my peace awa'.

"To help my boat, I pierced the throat Of him whom ane lo'ed dear; Nought did I spare his yellow hair,

And een sae bricht and clear.

"She sits her lane, and maketh mane, And sings a waefu' sang,'Scotch reivers hae my darling ta'en; O Willie tarries lang!'

"I plunged an auld man in the sea,

Whase locks were like the snaw; His hairs sall serve for rapes to me,

In hell my saul to draw!'

"Soon did thy smile, sweet baby, stint, Torn frae the nurse's knee,

That smile, that might hae saften'd flint,
And still'd the raging sea.

"Alas! twelve precious lives were spilt,
My worthless spark to save;
Bet had I fall'n, withouten guilt,
Frae cradle to the grave.

"Repentance! signal of my bale,
Built of the lasting stane,
Ye lang shalltell the bluidy tale,
When I am dead and gane.

"How Hoddom's Lord, ye lang sall tell, By conscience stricken sair,

In life sustain'd the pains of hell,
And perish'd in despair."-

2 Bet-Better.