sword of a knight was so eager for the combat, that at sight of an enemy it would leap forth of its own accord. While the visitor is wondering at its prodigious size, and observing he had never seen more than one person that could wield it, the lady tells him that in her father's grasp it was no more than a wand. Who this father was the knight could not then learn, either from Ellen, or the dignified lady of the mansion who afterwards appeared. Song and supper duly concluded, the knight is left to sleep in the sylvan hall, where he has a very poetical and prophetical dream. In the morning he is provided with a guide, and crosses the lake in sight of the maiden, who was sitting on a rock listening to her old attendant; she watches him with a livelier interest and a kinder smile than the poet thinks was quite becoming in a young lady who was already engaged, and, as he turns away in good earnest, gives him one courteous parting sign.' This, we think, is a very pleasing and very natural scene; it not only increases our ac quaintance with the two characters, but has an important relation to the plot. The lady blushes at her levity, and makes herself and her favoured Highlander some amends by calling on the minstrel to sing the praises of his family, the Græme. The old man, however, is rather out of spirits, and forebodes ill to his fair mistress. It is time to say that this Ellen was only child of Lord James of Bothwell. He is a fictitious personage, supposed to have been driven into exile with the rest of the Douglas family who had kept James V. of Scotland, during his minority, under a sort of tutelage which bore a great resemblance to captivity, and ruled the kingdom in his name a little tyrannically. He had found refuge in the fortresses of LochKatrine, under the protection of Roderick Dhu, or Black Sir Roderick, chief of Clan-Alpine, and son of the elderly lady we have mentioned. His character may be gathered from Ellen's answer to her attendant, who warns her that his protection of her father was not entirely disinterested, and that while she boasts of her influence over the fierce chief, her hand is on a lion's mane.'

I grant him brave

But wild as Blacklinn's thundering wave;
And generous save vindictive mood
Or jealous transport chafe his blood.
I grant him true to friendly band
As is his claymore to his hand;
But oh! that very blade of steel
More mercy for a foe would feel:
I grant him liberal, to fling
Among his clan the wealth they bring;

When back by lake and glen they wind,
And in the Lowland leave behind,

Where once some pleasant hamlet stood,
A mass of ashes slaked with blood.
The hand that for my father fought,
I honour, as his daughter ought,
But can I clasp it reeking red,

From peasants slaughtered in their shed?'

Sir Roderick himself, in his barge, and attended by his band of music, soon approaches the island; and Ellen, just at that moment hearing the signal-blast of the Douglas, sets off in her boat to fetch him over the lake. The affectionate meeting is very well described. Douglas had been detained in the chace beyond expectation, and found himself in considerable danger from various bodies of the royal horse that were scouring the country. Malcolm Græme had met with him, and though still a royal ward, and therefore risking his life and estates by associating with the noble outlaw, had insisted on accompanying him home.

The tears and praises of paternal affection, with which the maiden's tender congratulations were repaid, had on this occasion, the poet tells us, an unusual value.

• Delightful praise-like summer rose,
That brighter in the dew drop glows,
The bashful maiden's cheek appeared,
For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard.
The flush of shame-faced joy to hide,
The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide ;
The loved caresses of the maid,
The dogs with crouch and whimper paid;
And, at her whistle, on her hand,
The falcon took his favourite stand,
Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye,
Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly.'

Malcolm, who is described as every way worthy of his happiness, meets with due hospitality from Sir Roderick, though they are not on the very. best terms. As the party, however, sit round the fire, tidings come of an intended attack upon Clan-Alpine, by the Scotish troops: Douglas proposes to avoid the danger by flight and concealment, but Sir Roderick is of opinion that an alliance of the Alpine with the Douglas family will be far preferable; particularly as this measure will unite all the neighbouring clans, and make their resistance so formidable, that King James will be glad to march back. He promises, too, with a frankness somewhat unguarded, that a thousand villages shall be in flames when he lights his nuptial torch. Ellen, in the tenderness of her concern for Douglas's

safety, is half ready to embrace the terrible offer. What follows, will be best described by the poet.

Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy
In Ellen's quivering lip and eye,
And eager rose to speak-but e'er
His tongue could hurry forth his fear,
Had Douglas marked the hectic strife
Where death seemed combating with life;
For to her cheek, in feverish flood,
One instant rushed the throbbing blood,
Then ebbing back, with sudden
Left its domain as wan as clay.
"Roderick, enough! enough!" he cried,
My daughter cannot be thy bride;
Not that the blush to wooer dear
Nor paleness that of maiden fear.-
-O'seek the grace you well may

sway,

find

Without a cause to mine combined."

Twice through the hall the chieftain strode ;

The wavings of his tartans broad,

And darkened brow, where wounded pride
With ire and disappointment vied,

Seemed by the torch of gloomy light
Like the ill dæmon of the night
Stooping his pinion's shadowy sway
Upon the nighted pilgrim's way:
But unrequited love! thy dart
Plunged deepest its envenomed smart,
And Roderick, with thine anguish stung,
At length the hand of Douglas wrung,
While eyes that mocked at tears before
With bitter drops were running o'er.
The death pangs of long-cherished hope
Scarce in that ample breast had scope,
But, struggling with his spirit proud,
Convulsive heaved its chequered shroud,
While every sob so mute were all-
Was heard distinctly through the hall.'

Ellen rises to leave the party, and Græme, springing up to attend her, is furiously stopped and threatened by the jealous Roderick; they grapple, and mortal combat had ensued, but for the angry interposition of Douglas, and the terror of the women. Roderick insultingly offers safe-conduct to his happier rival, who rejects it with disdain, and, not to owe him even the use of a boat, swims across the lake to the opposite shore.

The third canto is chiefly occupied with a very interesting and picturesque description of a Highland Gathering', which Sir Roderick had resolved should take place the next day,

The tranquil charms of the scenery furnish a fine contrast to the prevailing agitation and alarm.

• The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Loch-Katrine blue;
Mildly and soft the western breeze
Just kissed the lake, and stirred the trees,
And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,
Trembled but dimpled not for joy;
The mountain shadows on her breast
Were neither broken nor at rest ;
In bright uncertainty they lie
Like future joys to fancy's eye.
The water lily to the light

Her chalice oped of silver bright;
The doe awoke and to the lawn,

Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn;
The grey mist left the mountain's side,
The torrent shewed its glistening pride;
Invisible in flecked sky,

The lark sent down her revelry;

The black-bird and the speckled thrush
Good morrow gave from brake and bush ;
In answer cooed the cushat dove

Her notes of peace, and rest, and love.'

The pagan ceremonies attending the consecration of the Fiery Cross, are described with minute accuracy and powerful effect. We cannot explain this custom more concisely than in the author's own words.

• When a chieftain designed to summon his clan, upon any sudden or important emergency, he slew a goat, and making a cross of any light wood, seared its extremities in the fire and extinguished them in the blood of the animal. It was delivered to a swift and trusty messenger, who ran full speed with it to the next hamlet, where he presented it to the principal He who person with a single word, implying the place of rendezvous received the symbol was bound to send it forwards with equal dispatch to the next village; and thus it passed with incredible celerity through all the district which owed allegiance to the chief, and also among his allies and neighbours, if the danger was common to them. At sight of the Fiery Cross, every man from 16 years old to 60, capable of bearing arms, was obliged instantly to repair, in his best arms and accoutrements, to the place of rendezvous. He who failed to appear, suffered the extremities of fire and sword, which were emblematically denounced to the disobedient by the bloody and burned marks upon this warlike signal. During the civil war of 1745-6, the Fiery Cross often made its circuit: and uponone occasion it passed through the whole district of Breadalbane, a tract of 32 miles, in three hours. p. xliii.

The priest was worthy of the rite. His origin was mysterious: his mother died in bringing him forth, and his father, according to general belief, was a demon or spectre. The

effect which such a tale would have on his mind, the influence of his monastic solitude, his cabalistic studies, and the wild scenery which surrounded him, are extremely well imagined; and the whole character, without shocking probability, is strikingly new, and fearfully consistent. The reader will understand, as we have already intimated, that a large proportion of Mr. Scott's finest conceptions, and this among them, are adopted-with inimitable skill it must be acknowledged-from the traditions and legends of the North..

His grisled beard and matted hair
Obscured a visage of despair;

His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er,
The scars of frantic penance bore.-
Not his the mien of Christian priest,
But Druid's, from the grave released,
Whose hardened heart and eye might brook
On human sacrifice to look.

And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore
Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er;
The hallowed creed gave only worse
And deadlier emphasis of curse.'-
One lingering sympathy of mind
Still bound him to the mortal kind;
The only parent he could claim
Of ancient Alpine's lineage came.
Late had he heard, in prophet's dream,
The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream;
Sounds too had come in midnight blast
Of charging steeds, careering fast
Along Benharrow's shingly side,
Where mortal horsemen ne'er might ride:
The thunder too had split the pine,-
All augured ill to Alpine's line.
He girt his loins, and came to show
The signals of impending woe,

And now stood prompt to bless or ban
As bade the chieftain of his clan.'

We must pass over the awful imprecations of this magicianpriest, and the approving shouts of the crowd who attended the horrid solemnity; though we are inclined to think that nothing Mr. Scott has hitherto written affords a stronger proof of his talents for this species of description. The following lines, describing the departure of the henchman, or confidential attendant, with the fatal symbol, convey the idea of swiftness with equal beauty and force.

Then Roderick with impatient look,
From Brian's hand the symbol took;.