We really cannot think of inserting such verses as the following:

THE CHAMPION'S FAREWELL.

Otium cum Dignitate.

Here! bring me my breeches, my armour is over;
Farewell for some time to my tin pantaloons;
Double mill'd kerseymere is a kind of leg clover,

Good luck to broad cloth for a score or two moons!
Here! hang up my helmet, and reach me my beaver,
This avoirdupois weight of glory must fall;
I think on my life that again I shall never

Take my head in a saucepan to Westminster-hall.
Oh, why was our family born to be martial?
'Tis a mercy this grand show-of-fight day is up,
I do not think Cato was much over-partial

To back through the dishes, with me and my cup.
By the blood of the Dymokes I'll sit in my lodging,
And the gauntlet resign for " neat gentleman's doe :"
If I ride, I will ride, and no longer be dodging

My horse's own tail 'twixt Duke, Marquis, and Co.
No more at my horseman-ship folks shall make merry,
For I'll ship man and horse, and "show off,"-not on shore;
No funnies for me! I will ride in a wherry;

They feather'd my scull-but I'll feather my oar.

So Thomas take Cato, and put on his halter,

And give him some beans, since I now am at peace;

If a champion is wanted, pray go to Sir Walter,

And he'll let you out Marmions at sovereigns a-piece.

The ladies admired the pyebald nag vastly,

And clapp'd his old sober-sides into the street:
Here's a cheque upon Child, so my man go to Astley,
Pay the charge of the charger, and bring a receipt.

N. of Margate, says he means to send us "A Marine Subject." We hope it will be a Mermaid.

"Summer Holidays" are very pretty, and might be relished by those who are young enough to enjoy them in reality-but the world is not so young as it was.

Philogenes' "Verses to the Matchless Orinda," are defective in the title, as our legal adviser informs us; Mrs. Katherine Phillips was once married. We thought we saw some other flaws not less fatal to his pretensions.

The article on H is written with too much asperity. If piquant means personal, we decline the other Communications offered by Aliquis.

Henry has some good stuff in him, but it is as much as our place is worth to oblige him. "Sweet Quarter of the Year" tickled our kidneys. We suspect H. L. is a relation of his; the same answer will apply to both.

On Modes of Sepulture, by M. should have been addressed (like a funeral society's hand bill)" To those who wish to be buried.”

Many other Signatures are waiting for answers, but, to be brief, they must guess at the reasons of our refusal.

JUDITH MACRONE THE PROPHETESS.

But I am haunted by a fearful shape-
Some hated thing which sharp fear forms of shadows;
Something which takes no known form, yet alarms
Me worse than my worst foeman arm'd in proof-
Something which haunts my slumbers-finds me out
In my deep dreams-in fiercest strife, when blood
Runs rife as rivulet water-in quiet peace
When rustic songs abound-in silent prayer,
For prayer, too, have I tried-still is it there-
Now-now-the dismal shadow stalks before me,
More visible than ever.

Old Play.

THE whole course of Annan-wa- and wild plum, remains of militer, in Dumfries-shire, is beautiful; tary or feudal greatness, dismantled from where it arises among the up- keeps or peels, and repeated vestiges of broad Roman roads and land pastures, in the vicinity of the sources of the Clyde and the Tweed, ample camps, with many of those and winding its way by old church- massive and squat structures, vaultyard, decayed castle, Roman en- ed, and secured with double iron campment, and battle-field-through doors, for the protection of catThe river itself has fine natural groves, and well-culti- tle, in former times, from reavers vated grounds, finally unites its wa- and forayers. ters with the sea of Solway, after attractions of its own: its inconsiconferring its name on the pretty derable waters are pure; and the little borough of Annan. The in- pebbles may be numbered in the terior of the district, it is true, pre- deepest pools, save when the stream sents a singular mixture of desolate is augmented by rains; and for the nature and rich cultivation; but the net, the liester, and the fly-hook, it immediate banks of the river itself produces abundance of salmon, grilare of a varied and romantic charac-ses, herlings, and trouts. The peater. At every turn we take, we come to nooks of secluded and fairy beauty-groves of fine ancient trees, coeval with the ruined towers they embosom-clumps of the most beautiful holly, skirted with rones, or irregular rows of hazel, wild cherry, VOL. IV.

santry are as varied in their character as the district they inhabit. Agriculture and pasturage claim an equal share in the pursuits of almost every individual; and they are distinguished from the people of many other lowland districts by superior

T

238

Traditional Literature.

strength, agility, and courage: the
free mountain air, gentle labour, and
variety of pursuits, give a health
and activity which fit them for mar-
tial exercises; and they have, per-
haps, more of a military air about
them, than the inhabitants of any
Many
of the neighbouring vales.
strange, romantic, and martial sto-
ries, linger among them; and those
who have the good fortune to be
admitted to their friendship, or their
fireside, may have their condescen-
sion richly repaid by curious oral
communications, in which history,
true and fabulous, and poetry, and
superstition, are strangely blended to-
gether. The tale of the spirit which
for many generations has haunted
the castle of Spedlans, will have its
narrative of ordinary horror accom-
panied by fairy legends, and tradi-
tions more romantic in their origin,
and more deeply steeped in the dews
of superstition.

One fine September morning, for the combined purpose of angling, gathering nuts, and exploring the strongholds of the ancient heroes of Annandale-the Hallidays, the Jardines, the Carlyles, the Bells, and the Irvings, I proceeded up the river bank, and employed my fish-rod with a success which drove me in despair to nut-gathering. It was past midday when I arrived at a fine bold sweep of the stream, where the shade of the bordering groves was invitingly cool, and the green-sward fresh, soft, and untrodden.

The
sun was, to use the expression of a
Scottish poet-"wading 'mang the
mist," or as a fastidious Englishman
would say, "struggling amid driz-
zly rain," which abated the heat of
the luminary, and rendered the grass-
blade cool and moist. A large oak-
tree or two, set down in the random
beauty of nature, adorned the nar-
row holm, or bordering of green-
sward, between the wood and the
water; while at the extremity of the
walk, where the stream was limited
by projecting rocks, stood the re-
mains of one of those square peels,
or towers of refuge, already alluded
to. The building was roofless; and
the walls had been lessened in their
height by violence; while from its
interior ascended a thin blue smoke,
which, curling away among the

straight stems of the trees, escaped
into the free air through the upper
boughs of the grove. Between the
tower and the river lay many webs
of fine linen, bleaching on the grass;
while from the ruin itself came the
uninterrupted merriment of some
country maidens-a singular medley
of open laughter, fragments of song,
on the lack of lovers.-
and taunts about courtship, and
"Lads!" said a shrill voice, "I
never saw such soulless coofs-ane
would think we had ne'er a tooth in
"Kissing, indeed!" said
our head, or a pair o' lips for the
"Ane would think our
kissing."
another;

sarcasms

lips were made for nought save
supping curds or croudy, and that
we were suspected of witchcraft ---
here we have been daidling in this
den of woe and dool from blessed
sun-rise, and deil a creature with
I think ancient
and come near us.
hair on its lip has mistaken its road,
spunk and glee be dead and gone
from merry Annan-water."-"Ah,
my bonnie lasses," interrupted an
old woman, half choked with a
church-yard cough, "I mind weel
in the blessed year fifteen we had a
bonnie bleaching in this very place

there was Jeany Bell, and Kate
Bell, her cousin, who had a mis-
fortune at forty, and was made an
honest woman at fifty-eight; and
there was Bell Irving and me,-lads!
we had the choice of the parish; ye
might have heard the caressing o'
our lips as far as the Wyliehole;
and what would ye think-Pate Ir-
ving, now a douce man and a godly,
was the wantonest of all. Ah, my
bonnie kimmers, that was a night."
This description of departed joys
seemed to infuse its spirit into the
younger branches of the establish-
ment; for while I pondered how I
might introduce myself to these wa-
ter-nymphs with discretion and hu-
mility, I observed a young rosy
face, ornamented with a profusion
of glistering nut-brown locks, pro-
jected past the porch, and recon-
noitring me very stedfastly. A fore-
head with dark eyes and raven hair
instantly assisted in the scrutiny; and
presently the head of the ancient
dame herself appeared, obtruded be-
yond them both-like Care looking
out between Mirth and Joy in a mo-

1.

O Annan runs smoothly atween its green banks;
The ear may scarce listen its flowing;

Ye may see 'tween the ranks of the lofty green trees
The golden harvest glowing;

And hear the horn wound-see the husbandman's bands
Fall on with their sharp sickles bright in their hands.

2.

I have seen by thy deep and romantic stream
The sword of the warrior flashing;

I have seen through thy deep and thy crystal stream
The barbed war steeds dashing :

There grows not a green tree-there stands not a stone,
But the fall of the valiant and noble has known.