But the dread of banditti, fome ftrength it reftored;
And again the the aid of the Virgin implored;

She dragg'd her flow fteps to where corfes, yet warm,
Threw their tatters and fresh mangled limbs to the storm:
She reach'd the fell fpot, and, aghaft, looking round,
At a black gibbet's foot fenfeless funk on the ground.

Now the battle was over, and o'er his proud foes
The Austrian eagle triumphantly rofe;

Midft the groans of the dying, and blood of the flain,
Sorely wounded lay Leopold, ftretch'd on the plain.
When reviving, he first to look round him began,
Lo! close by his fide fat a Little Grey Man!

The Little Grey Man he fat munching a heart, And he growl'd in a tone all dismaying-" Depart! "Don't difturb me at meals! pr'ythee rife, and pass on! "To Mary-Ann hie !-bind your wounds, and begone !— "In a score and three days fhall you meet Mary-Ann ;

66

And perhaps, uninvited, the Little Grey Man."

With fear and difmay rofe the youth from the ground,
His wounds he with balms and with bandages bound;
To quit his grim guest he made little delay,
And, faint though he was, he sped willing away :
For a score and three days did he journey amain,
Then funk, all exhausted, on Sombermond's plain.

By the fcreams of the night-bird, though dark, he could tell

'Twas the gibbets amongft, and the wheels, where he fell.-
Now ftill her fad ftation did Mary-Ann keep,
Where Leopold, fainting, had funk into fleep:
Ah! little thought he that his dear one was by!
Ah! little the maid that her love was fo nigh!

Perch'd grim on a wheel fat the Little Grey Man,
Whilft his fierce little eyes o'er the fad lovers ran ;
The Little Grey Man down to Leopold crept,
And open'd his wounds, all fo deep, as he flept;
With a foream he the flumbers of Mary-Ann broke,
And the poor forlorn maid to new horrors awoke.

To her fight, forely fhock'd, did a moon-beam display
Her lover, all bleeding and pale as he lay:

She fhriek'd a loud fhriek; and the tore her fine hair,
And the funk her foft cheek on his bofom fo fair;
With her long flowing treffes fhe ftrove to restrain,
And stop the dear blood that now issued amain.

To his wounds her fair hands fhe unceasingly prefs'd;
Her tears faft they fell on her Leopold's breaft:
Entranced, and in flumber ftill filent he lay,
Till the Little Grey Man drove his flumbers away;
With a vifion all horrid his fenfes betray'd,
And fatal to him and his much-beloved maid.

He dreamt, from his wheel an affaffin had stepp'd,
And filent and flowly had close to him crept;

That the wretch, mangled piece-meal, and ghaftly with

gore,

From his wounds both the balms and the bandages tore; And to fearch for his dagger as now he began,

"Strike! ftrike!" cried the voice of the Little Grey Man.

"Strike! ftrike!" cried the fiend," or your wounds bleed

He ftruck-it was Mary-Ann's life-blood he drew-
With a fhriek he awoke, nor his woes were they o'er;
He beheld his pale love, to behold her no more!-
Her eyes the poor maiden on Leopold caft,

Gave him one look of love, 'twas her fondeft, her laft!

The Little Grey Man now he fet up a yell,
Which was heard in the halls of fair Aix-la-Chapelle,
He raised up his head, and he raised up his chin;
And he grinn'd, as he shouted a horrible grin ;
And he laugh'd a loud laugh, and his cap up he caft,
Exulting, as breathed the fond lovers their laft.

As in each other's arms dead the fond lovers fell,
O'er the black lonely heath toll'd a low, diftant bell;
From the gibbets and croffes fhrieks iffued, and groans,
And wild to the blast flew the fculls and the bones;
Whilst the Little Grey Man, midft a fhower of blood,
In a whirlwind was hurl'd into Sombermond's wood.

Of

Of Mary-Ann's forrows, and Leopold's woes,
Long fhall Maife's dark ftream tell the tale as it flows:
Long, long fhall the goffips of Aix-la-Chapelle,

Of the heath and its horrors, the traveller tell:

Who fhall prick on his fteed with what swiftness he can, Left he meet in the twilight the Little Grey Man.

On the Feast of St. Auftin, to Sombermond's fair
Flock the youth of both fexes, its revels to fhare;
And in dainty apparel, all gallant and gay,

With dance, and with carols, and mirth, cheer the day;
While the proud caftle's portal expanded, invites
To the hall's ample board, and its feftive delights:

And there, on the richly-wrought arras, they view
Depicted, the woes of thefe lovers fo true;
The troubles their forrowful days that befel,
And the fate of the darling of Aix-la-Chapelle;
Behold, as the bloom'd, the beloved Mary-Ann,
And the heart-freezing fcowl of the Little Grey Man,

No. XX.

GLENFINLAS,

OR

LORD RONALD'S CORONACH.*

"For them the viewlefs forms of air obey,
Their bidding heed, and at their beck repair:

They know what spirit brews the stormful day,

"And heartless oft, like moody madness, stare
"To fee the phantom train their secret work prepare."

Glenfinlas is a tract of forest ground lying in the Highlands of Perthshire, not far from Callender, in Menteith. To the west of the forest of Glenfinlas lies Loch Katrine, and its romantic avenue, called the Troshachs. Benledi, Benmore, and Benvoirlich, are mountains in the same district, and at no great distance from Glenfinlas. The river Teith passes Callender and the castle of Doune, and joins the Forth near Stirling. The Pass of Lenny is immediately above Callender, and is the principal access to the Highlands, from that town. Glenartney is a forest near Benvoirlich. The whole forms a sublime tract of Alpine scenery.

O HONE a rie! O hone a rie !

The pride of Albin's line is o'er,
And fallen Glenartney's ftatelieft tree,--

We ne'er fhall fee Lord Ronald more!

*Coronach is the lamentation for a deceafed warrior, fung by the aged of the clan. O hone a rie fignifies" Alas for the prince or chief,"