poems of Dean Swift. But his literary ambition was light. It was as a conversationist that he excelled, and he gave to society talents that might have won for him a lasting fame as a man of letters. THE NOVEMBER FOG OF LONDON. First, at the dawn of lingering day, Then deepening with a sordid stain It wars at once with every sense. Scarce an eclipse, with pall so dun, Thy dazzling lights and mimic thunders: If any power can, anyhow, Oh join-success a thing of course is― Sir Walter Scott. Walter Scott (1771-1832), a younger son of a Writer to the Signet, was born in Edinburgh, on the 15th of August, 1771. Some of his earliest years were, on account of a malady that caused lameness, passed on the farm of his paternal grandfather in Roxburghshire. Here he acquired his taste for border legends and stories of chivalry. In 1779 he entered the High School of Edinburgh, and in 1783 the University. In neither did he display much ability; his Latin was little, and his Greek less. Before his sixteenth year he had run through a vast circle of miscellaneous reading, including many works of fiction. In 1786 Scott was apprenticed to his father, and in 1792 was admitted to the Bar; but of his legal profession he says, in the language of Slender to Anne Page, "There was little love between us at first, and it pleased God to decrease it on better acquaintance." His first serious efforts in composition were some translations of German ballads. In 1797 he married Miss Carpenter, a lady of some beauty, and with a small fortune. In 1799 he became Sheriff of Selkirkshire, and in 1806 one of the principal clerks of the Court of Session. He now resolved to make literature the basis of his fortunes. In 1802 appeared his "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border;" in 1804 he edited the metrical romance of "Sir Tristrem." In 1805 appeared the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," which was enthusiastically received, and added largely to his growing fame. This poem was followed in 1808 by "Marmion;" in 1809, by the "Lady of the Lake;" in 1811, by "Don Roderick;" in 1813, by "Rokeby ;" and in 1814, by the "Lord of the Isles." Seeing that his poetical star was now beginning to pale before the rising fame of Byron, Scott prudently retired from the field where he was no longer without a rival, and commenced his series of "Waverley Novels," so memorable in literature. For fifteen years he kept the authorship of them a secret, and was referred to as the "Illustrious Unknown." In 1814 " Waverley" appeared. Within four years it was followed by "Guy Mannering," "The Antiquary," "Old Mortality," "Rob Roy," and "The Heart of Mid-Lothian." From 1814 to 1826, during the publication of these novels, Scott was at the summit of his fame and worldly success. In 1820 he was created a baronet. Meanwhile he had purchased an estate at a price much above its value, and built his house at Abbotsford, "a romance in stone and lime," and thither the family removed in 1812. The house had cost him, with the garden, £20,000. But Scott's wealth was wholly illusory. He had been paid for his works chiefly in notes, which proved valueless. His connection with the publishing firm of Ballantyne & Co. had entangled him in the responsibilities of an ill-conducted business; and the disastrous year 1826 involved him in the ruin of his latter publishers, Constable & Co. The poet's liabilities from his relations with these two houses amounted to more than £120,000. Nothing could be more admirable than the attitude in which his adversity exhibited him. He sat down, at the age of fifty-five, with the heroic determination of laboring to pay off his debts and redeem his fair fame. "Wood stock" alone, the labor of three months, cleared to his creditors £8000. But the busy brain and the big, manly form did not suffice. Before he could reach the longedfor goal, he sank in the struggle; a paralytic attack arrested his work. A journey to Italy did not restore his shattered constitution. Returning in haste, that he might be under the shade of his own trees, he expired September 21st, 1832, after fourteen days of prostration and insensibility, with occasional flashes of consciousness. One of the most pathetic incidents of the last two months of his life was the failure of his attempt to write. On the 17th of July, awaking from sleep, he called for his writing materials. When the chair, in which he lay propped up with pillows, was moved into his study and placed before the desk, his daughter put a pen into his hand; but there was no power in the fingers to close on the too familiar instrument. It dropped upon the paper, and the helpless old man sank back to weep in silence. "The great strength of Scott," says Dr. Carruthers, "undoubtedly lay in the prolific richness of his fancy, in his fine healthy moral feeling, and in the abundant stores of his remarkable memory, that could create, collect, and arrange such a multitude of scenes and adventures; that could find materials for stirring and romantic poetry in the most minute and barren antiquarian details; and that could reanimate the past, and paint the present, in scenery and manners, with a vividness and energy unknown since the period of Homer." LOCHINVAR. LADY HERON'S SONG, FROM "MARMION." Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west; He stayed not for brake and he stopped not for stone; He swam the Esk River where ford there was none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late; For a laggard in love and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he entered the Netherby hall, Among bridesmen and kinsmen, and brothers and all: Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) "O, come ye in peace here or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?” "I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied: Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide; And now am I come, with this lost love of mine To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar!” The bride kissed the goblet, the knight took it up; He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar; "Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar. So stately his form, and so lovely her face, And the bride-maidens whispered, ""Twere better, by far, To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar!" One touch to her hand and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door and the charger stood near; So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran; There was racing and chasing on Canonbie Lee,— SCENE FROM "MARMION." Not far advanced was morning day And Douglas gave a guide; The train from out the castle drew, -- Burnt Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, And-"This to me!" he said,- And lay your hands upon your sword), I tell thee, thou'rt defied! And if thon saidst I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied!" On the earl's cheek the flush of rage Fierce he broke forth: "And darest thou, then, The Douglas in his hall? And hopest thou hence unscathed to go? Lord Marmion turned-well was his need- |