The lion trampled by an ass !
No; this all-school'd forbearance would surpass.

XLIV.
Insulted with a felon's chain,

From its vast bed profound with heaving throws This noble man must cross the main,

The mighty waste of weltering waters rose. And answer his foul charge to cold, ungrateful O'er countless waves, now mounting, now deprest, Spain.

The ridgy surges swell with foaming crest,

Like Alpine barriers of some distant shore,
XLI.

Now seen, now lost amidst the deafening roar; By India's gentle race alone

While, higher still, on broad and sweepy base, Was pity to his suffering shown.

Their growing bulk the mountain billows raise, They on his parting wait,

Each far aloft in lordly grandeur rides, And looks of kindness on him cast,

With many a vassal wave roughening his furrow'd Or touch'd his mantle as he past,

sides. And mourn'd his alter'd state.

Heaved to its height, the dizzy skiff “May the Great Spirit smooth the tide

Shoots like an eagle from his cliff With gentle gales, and be thy guide !"

Down to the fearful gulf, and then And when his vessel wore from land,

On the swoln waters mounts again,With meaning nods and gestures kind

A fearful way! a fearful state He saw them still upon the strand

For vessel charged with living freight!
Tossing their dark arms on the wind.

XLV.
He saw them like a helpless flock
Who soon must bear the cruel shock

Within, without, the tossing tempest's rage: Of savage wolves, yet reckless still,

This was, of all his earthly pilgrimage, Feel but the pain of present ill.

The injured hero's fellest, darkest hour, He saw the fate he could not now control,

Yet swiftly pass'd its gloomy power ; And groan'd in bitter agony of soul.

For as the wild winds louder blew,

His troubled breast the calmer grew;
XLII.

And, long before the mighty hand,
He trode the narrow deck with pain,

That rules the ocean and the land, And oft survey'd his rankling chain.

Had calm’d the sea, with pious reverence fillid The ship's brave captain grieved to see

The warring passions of his soul were stilld. Base irons his noble prisoner gall,

Through softly parting clouds the blue sky peerd, And kindly sued to set him free ;

And heavenward turn’d his eye with better feelBut proudly spoke the lofty thrall,

ings cheer'd. “ Until the king whom I have served,

Meek are the wise, the great, the good ;Who thinks this recompense reserved,

He sigh'd, and thought of Him, who died on holy Himself command th’ unclasping stroke,

rood. These gyved limbs will wear their yoke.

XLVI.
Yea, when my head lies in the dust,
These chains shall in my coffin rust.

No more the angry tempest's sport,
Better than lesson'd saw, though rude,

The vessel reach'd its destined port. As token, long preserved of black ingratitude !"

A town of Christendom he greets,

And treads again its well-known streets ;
XLIII.

A sight of wonder, grief, and shame
Thus pent, his manly fortitude gave way

To those who on his landing came.
To brooding passion's dark tumultuous sway. And on his state in silence gazed,
Dark was the gloom within, and darker grew “ This is the man whose dauntless soul”-
Th’impending gloom without, as onward drew So spoke their looks~~ Spain's power hath raised
Th’embattled storm that, deepening on its way, To hold o'er worlds her proud control!
With all its marshall'd host obscured the day. His honour'd brows with laurel crown'd,
Volume o'er volume, roll'd the heavy clouds, His hands with felon fetters bound !”
And oft in dark, dim masses, sinking slow,

XLVII.
Hung in the nether air, like misty shrouds,
Veiling the sombre, silent deep below.

And he before his sovereign dame
Like eddying snow-flakes from a lowering sky, And her stern lord, indignant came;
Athwart the dismal gloom the frighten'd sea-fowlfly. And bold in conscious honour, broke
Then from the solemn stillness round,

The silence of his smother'd flame, Utters the storm its awful sound.

In words that all his inward anguish spoke. It groans upon the distant waves;

The gentle queen's more noble breast O'er the mid-ocean wildly raves ;

Its generous sympathy exprest; Recedes afar with dying strain,

And as his varied story show'd That sadly through the troubled air

What wrongs from guileful malice flow'd, Comes like the wailings of despair,

Th’indignant eye and flushing cheek And with redoubled strength returns again : Did oft her mind's emotion speak. Through shrouds and rigging, boards and mast, The sordid king, with brow severe, Whistles, and howls, and roars th’outrageous blast. Could, all unmoved, his pleadings hear; 48

The brightest rays of cheering shed,
LVI.

That point to immortality ?
Now all the bold companions of his toil,

LXII. Tenants of many a clime, who wont to come, (So fancy trows,) when vex'd with worldly coil,

A twinkling speck, but fix'd and bright, And linger sadly by his narrow home ;

To guide us through the dreary night, Repentant enemies, and friends that grieve

Each hero shines, and lures the soul In self-upbraiding tenderness, and say,

To gain the distant happy goal. “Cold was the love he did from us receive,"

For is there one who, musing o'er the grave The fleeting, restless spirits of a day,

Where lies interr'd the good, the wise, the brave, All to their dread account are pass'd away.

Can poorly think, beneath the mouldering heap,

That noble being shall for ever sleep?
LVII.

No; saith the generous heart, and proudly swells,Silence, solemn, awful, deep,

“ Though his cered corse lies here, with God his Doth in that hall of death her empire keep;

spirit dwells."
Save when at times the hollow pavement smote
By solitary wanderer's foot, amain
From lofty dome, and arch, and aisle remote
A circling loud response receives again.

LADY GRISELD BAILLIE.
The stranger starts to hear the growing sounds,
And sees the blazon'd trophies waving near ;-

WHEN, sapient, dauntless, strong, heroic man! “ Ha! tread my feet so near that sacred ground !”

Our busy thoughts thy noble nature scan,

Whose active mind, its hidden cell within, He stops and bows his head :-“ Columbus resteth

Frames that from which the mightiest works begin ; here!”

Whose secret thoughts are light to ages lending, LVIII.

Whose potent arm is right and life defending, Some ardent youth, perhaps, ere from his home

For helpless thousands, all on one high soul deHe launch his venturous bark, will hither come,

pending :Read fondly o’er and o'er his graven name

We pause, delighted with the fair survey, With feelings keenly touch'd, -with heart of flame; And haply in our wistful musings say, Till wrapp'd in fancy's wild, delusive dream, What mate, to match this noble work of heaven, Times past and long forgotten, present seem. Hath the all-wise and mighty master given? To his charm'd ear, the east wind rising shrill, One gifted like himself, whose head devises Seems through the Hero's shroud to whistle still.

High things, whose soul at sound of battle rises, The clock's deep pendulum swinging, through the who with glaved hand will through arm’d squadblast

rons ride, Sounds like the rocking of his lofty mast;

And, death confronting, combat by his side;
While fitful gusts rave like his clamorous band, Will share with equal wisdom grave debate,
Mix'd with the accents of his high command. And all the cares of chieftain, kingly state ?
Slowly the stripling quits the pensive scene, Ay, such, I trow, in female form hath been
And burns, and sighs, and weeps to be what he has of olden times, and may again be seen,
been.

When cares of empire or strong impulse swell
LIX.

The generous breast, and to high deeds impel; 0! who shall lightly say that fame

For who can these as meaner times upbraid, Is nothing but an empty name!

Who think of Saragossa's valiant maid ? Whilst in that sound there is a charm

But she of gentler nature, softer, dearer, The nerve to brace, the heart to warm,

Of daily life, the active, kindly cheerer ; As, thinking of the mighty dead,

With generous bosom, age, or childhood shielding, The young, from slothful couch will start,

And in the storms of life, though moved, unyieldAnd vow, with lifted hands outspread, Like them to act a noble part?

Strength in her gentleness, hope in her sorrow,

Whose darkest hours some ray of brightness borrow LX.

From better days to come, whose meek devotion 0! who shall lightly say that fame

Calms every wayward passion's wild commotion ; Is nothing but an empty name!

In want and suffering, soothing, useful, sprightly, When, but for those, our mighty dead,

Bearing the press of evil hap so lightly,

Till evil's self seems its strong hold betraying All ages past, a blank would be, Sunk in oblivion's murky bed,

To the sweet witchery of such winsome playing; A desert bare, a shipless sea ?

Bold from affection, if by nature fearful, They are the distant objects seen,

With varying brow, sad, tender, anxious, cheerful,The lofty marks of what hath been.

This is meet partner for the loftiest mind,

With crown or helmet graced,-yea, this is womanLXI.

kind! 0! who shall lightly say that fame

Come ye, whose grateful memory retains Is nothing but an empty name!

Dear recollection of her tender pains Then memory of the mighty dead

To whom your oft-conn'd lesson, daily said, To earth-worn pilgrim's wistful eye

With kiss and cheering praises was repaid ;

ing;

To gain whose smile, to shun whose mild rebuke, With stealthy steps I gain'd the shade
Your irksome task was learnt in silent nook, By the close-winding staircase made,
Though truant thoughts the while, your lot ex- And when the surly turnkey enter'd,
changing

But little dreaming in his mind
With freer elves, were wood and meadow ranging :- Who follow'd him so close behind,
And ye, who best the faithful virtues know Into this darken'd cell, with beating heart, I
Of a link'd partner, tried in weal and wo,

ventured.” Like the slight willow, now aloft, now bending,

IV. But, still unbroken, with the blast contending,

Then from the simple vest that braced Whose very look call’d virtuous vigour forth, Her gentle breast, a letter traced Compelling you to match her noble worth ;

With well-known characters, he took, And ye, who in a sister's modest praise

And with an eager, joyful look
Feel manly pride, and think of other days,

Her eyes up to his visage cast,
Pleased that the playmate of your native home His changing countenance to scan,
Hath in her prime an honour'd name become ;- As o’er the lines his keen glance pass'd.
And ye, who in a duteous child have known She saw a faint glow tinge the sickly wan;
A daughter, helpmate, sister, blent in one,

She saw his eyes through teardrops raise
From whose dear hand which, to no hireling leaves To heaven their look of silent praise,
Its task of love, your age sweet aid receives, And hopes fresh touch undoing lines of care
Who reckless marks youth's waning faded hue, Which stress of evil times had deeply graven there.
And thinks her bloom well spent, when spent foryou; Mean while, the joy of sympathy to trace
Come all, whose thoughts such dear remembrance Upon her innocent and lovely face
bear,

Had to the sternest, darkest skeptic given And to my short and faithful lay give ear. Some love of human kind, some faith in righteous

Heaven.

V.
I.

What blessings on her youthful head
Within a prison's hateful cell,

Were by the grateful patriot shed, Where, from the lofty window fell,

(For such he was, good and devoted, Through grated bars, the sloping beam,

And had at risk of lise promoted
Defined, but faint, on couch of stone,

His country's freedom and her faith,
There sat a prisoner sad and lone,
Like the dim tenant of a dismal dream.

Nor reckoning made of worldly skathe,)

How warm, confiding, and sincere,
Deep in the shade, by low-arch'd door,
With iron nails thick studded o'er,

He gave to her attentive ear

The answer which ber cautious sire Whose threshold black is cross' by those

Did to his secret note require: Who here their earthly being close,

How after this with 'quiries kind, Or issue to the light again

He ask'd for all she left behind A scaffold with their blood to stain,

In Redbraes' tower, her native dwelling, Moved something softly. Wistful ears

And set her artless tongue a-telling, Are quick of sense, and from his book

Which urchin dear had tallest grown,
The prisoner raised his eyes with eager look,
“ Is it a real form that through the gloom appears ?" Of lesson, sermon, psalm, and note,

And which the greatest learning shown,
II.

And Sabbath questions learnt by rote,
It was indeed of flesh and blood,

And merry tricks and gambols play'd The form that quickly by him stood;

By evening fire, and forfeits paid, Of stature low, of figure light,

I will not here rehearse, nor will I say, In motion like some happy sprite;

How, on that bless'd and long-remember'd day, Yet meaning eyes and varying cheek,

The prisoner's son, deserving such a sire, Now red, now pale, seem'd to bespeak

First saw the tiny maid, and did admire, Of riper years the cares and feeling

That one so young, and wise, and good, and fair, Which with a gentle heart were dealing.

Should be an earthly thing that breathed this nether

air. “Such sense in eyes so simply mild !

VI.
Is it a woman or a child?
Who art thou, damsel sweet ? are not mine eyes That from this visit happier days arose ;

E'en let my reader courteously suppose,
beguiled ?”

Suppose the prisoner from his thraldom freed,
III.

And with our lay proceed.
“ No; from the Redbraes' tower I come ;
My father is Sir Patrick Hume ;

VII. And he has sent me for thy good,

The damsel, glad her mission'd task was done His dearly honour'd Jerviswood.

Back to her home long since had blithely gone ; Long have I round these walls been straying And there remain'd, a meek and duteous child As if with other children playing;

Where useful toil, with play between, Long near the gate have kept my watch

And pastirne on the sunny green, The sentry's changing time to catch.

The weeks and months of passing years beguiled.