And loud, and high, and strange, they rung,
As many a magic change they find.

Tall wax'd the Spirit's altering form,
Till to the roof her ftature grew,
Then mingling with the rifing storm,
With one wild yell away the flew.

Rain beats, hail rattles, whirlwinds tear,
The flender hut in fragments flew,

But not a lock of Moy's loofe hair
Was waved by wind, or wet by dew.

Wild mingling with the howling gale,
Loud bursts of ghaftly laughter rife,
High o'er the Minstrel's head they fail,
And die amid the northern íkies.

The voice of thunder fhook the wood,
As ceafed the more than mortal yell,
And fpattering foul a fhower of blood,
Upon the hiffing firebrands fell.

Next dropp'd from high a mangled arm,
The fingers ftrain'd an half-drawn blade:
And laft, the life-blood ftreaming warm,
Torn from the trunk, a gafping head.

Oft

Oft o'er that head, in battling field,

Stream'd the proud creft of high Benmore;
That arm the broad claymore could wield,
Which dyed the Teith with Saxon gore,

Woe to Moneira's fullen rills!
Woe to Glenfinlas' dreary glen!
There never fon of Albin's hills
Shall draw the hunter's fhaft agen!

E'en the tired pilgrim's burning feet
At noon shall shun that sheltering den,
Left, journeying in their rage, he meet
The wayward Ladies of the Glen.

And we-behind the chieftain's fhield
No more fhall we in fafety dwell;
None leads the people to the field—
And we the loud lament muft fwell.

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!

The fimple tradition upon which the preceding ftanzas are founded, runs as follows. While two Highland hunters were paffing the night in a folitary bathy (a hut built for the purpose of hunting), and making merry over their venison and whisky, one of them expreffed a wish that

they

they had pretty laffes to complete their party. The words were scarcely uttered, when two beautiful young women, habited in green, entered the hut, dancing and finging. One of the hunters was feduced by the fyren who attached herself particularly to him, to leave the hut: the other remained, and, fufpicious of the fair feducers, continued to play upon a trump, or Jew's harp, fome ftrain confecrated to the Virgin Mary. Day at length came, and the temptress vanished. Searching in the foreft, he found the bones of his unfortunate friend, who had been torn to pieces and devoured by the Fiend into whose toils he had fallen. The place was, from thence, called the Glen of the Green Women.

No. XXI.

THE EVE OF SAINT JOHN.

ORIGINAL.-WALTER SCOTT.

t

Smaylhome, or Smallholm Tower, the scene of the following Bal lad, is situated on the northern boundary of Roxburghshire, among a cluster of wild rocks, called Sandiknow-Crags, the property of Hugh Scott, Esq. of Harden. The tower is a high square building, surrounded by an outer wall, now ruinous. The circuit of the outer court being defended, on three sides, by a precipice and morass, is only accessible from the west, by a steep and rocky path, The apartments, as usual, in a Border Keep, or fortress, are placed one above another, and communicate by a narrow stair; on the roof are two bartizans, or platforms, for defence or pleasure. The inner door of the tower is wood, the outer an iron grate; the distance between them being nine feet, the thickness, namely, of the wall. From the elevated situation of Smaylho'me Tower, it is seen many miles in every direction, Among the crags by which it is surrounded, one more eminent called the Watchfold, and is said to have been the station of a beacon in the times of war with England. Without the towercourt is a ruined Chapel.

A

THE Baron of Smaylho'me rofe with day,

He fpurr'd his courser on,

Without stop or stay, down the rocky way.
That leads to Brotherstone.

He went not with the bold Buccleuch,
His banner broad to rear;

He went not 'gainst the English yew

To lift the Scottish spear.

Yet his plate-jack* was braced, and his helmet was laced,
And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore;

At his faddle-gerthe was a good steel sperthe,
Full ten pound weight and more.

The Baron return'd in three day's fpace,

And his looks were fad and four,

And weary was his courfer's pace

As he reached his rocky tower,

He came not from where Ancram Moor +
Ran red with English blood,

Where the Douglas true, and the bold Buccleuch,
'Gainst keen Lord Ivers ftood;

Yet was his helmet hack'd and hew'd,

His acton pierced and tere;

*The plate-jack is a coat armour; the vaunt brace (avant-bras), armour for the fhoulders and arms; the fperthe, a battle-axe.

A. D. 1555, was fought the battle of Ancram Moor, in which Archibald Douglas Earl of Angus, and Sir Walter Scott of Buccleuch, routed a fuperior English army, under Lord Ralph Ivers, and Sir Brian Latoun.