At length, upon the harp, with glee,
Mingled with arch fimplicity,
A foft, yet lively, air fhe rung,
While thus the wily lady fung.

O, young Lochinvar is come out of the weft,
Through all the wide Border his fteed was the beft;
And, fave his good broad-sword, he weapons
had none,
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and fo dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He ftaid not for brake, and he flopped not for ftone
He fwam the Efke river where ford there was none;
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had confented, the gallant came late:
For a laggard in love, and a daftard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall,

Among bridefmen, and kinfmen, and brothers, and all
Then fpoke the bride's father, his hand on his fword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom faid 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 fuit you denied ;-
Love fwells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide-
And now am I come, with this loft 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 kiffed 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 figh,
With a fmile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her foft hand, ere ber mother could bar-
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.
So ftately his form, and fo lovely her face,
That never a hall fuch a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom ftood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whispered, ""Twere better by far
To have matched our fair coufin 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 fwung!

So light to the saddle before her he sprung !-
"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;

They'll have fleet fteeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

Thre

There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;
Forters, Fenwicks, and Mufgraves, they rode and they ran:
There was racing, and chafing, on Cannobie Lee,

But the loft bride of Netherby ne'er did they fee.

So daring in love, and fo dauntlefs in war,

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ?
The monarch o'er the fyren hung,

And beat the measure as the fung;
And, preffing clofer, and more near,
He whispered praises in her ear.
In loud applause the courtiers vied;
And ladies winked, and fpoke afide.
The witching dame to Marmion threw
A glance, where feemed to reign
The pride that claims applaufes duc,
And of her royal conqueft, too,

A real or a feigned difdain. p. 257-261.

The description of the battle, and of the death of Marmion, in the Sixth Canto, are, in our opinion, by far the finest passages in the poem. But before closing our extracts with a part of that admirable description, we must treat our readers with the following fine sketch of an ancient Scotish baron, Douglas Earl of Angus, in his old age.

His giant-form, like ruined tower,

Though fallen its mufcles' brawny vaunt,

Huge-boned, and tall, and grim, and gaunt,
Seemed o'er the gaudy scene to lower :

His locks and beard in filver grew;

His eye-brows kept their sable hue.' p. 263, 264.
O'er his huge form, and vifage pale,
He wore a cap and fhirt of mail,
And lean'd his large and wrinkled hand
Upon the huge and fweeping brand,
Which wont, of yore, in battle-fray,
His foeman's limbs to fhred away,
As wood-knife lops the fapling fpray.
He feemed as, from the tombs around
Rifing at judgment-day,

Some giant Douglas may be found
In all his old array ;

So pale his face, fo huge his limb,

So old his arms, his look fo grim.' p. 333.

We shall begin our extracts from the Flodden scenes, with the following moving picture of the passage of the English host through the deep vale of the Till, and of the fatal inactivity of the Scotish army.

High fight it is, and haughty, while
They dive into the deep defile;
Beneath the caverned cliff they fall,
Beneath the caftle's airy wall.

By rock, by oak, by hawthorn tree,
Troop after troop is difappearing;
Troop after troop their banners rearing,
Upon the eastern bank you fee.
Still pouring down the rocky den,
Where flows the fullen Till,
And rifing from the dim-wood glen,
Standards on ftandards, men on men,
In flow fucceffion ftill,

And bending o'er the Gothic arch,
And prefling on, in ceafelefs march
To gain th' oppofing hill.

، And why ftands Scotland idly now,
Dark Flodden! on thy airy brow,
Since England gains the pass the while,
And ftruggles through the deep defile?
What checks the fiery foul of James?
Why fits that champion of the dames.
Inactive on his fteed,

And fees, between him and his land,
Between him and Tweed's fouthern ftrand,
His hoft Lord Surrey lead?

What vails the vain knight-errant's brand?—
O, Douglas, for thy leading wand!

Fierce Randolph, for thy fpeed !
O for one hour of Wallace wight,
Or well-fkilled Bruce, to rule the fight,
And cry-" "Saint Andrew and our right! "
Another fight had feen that morn,

From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn,

And Flodden had been Bannock-bourne !. P. 345-7. The battle itself, as we have already intimated, is described as it appeared to the two squires of Lord Marmion, who were left on an eminence in the rear, as the guard of Lady Clare: And certainly, of all the poetical battles which have been fought, from the days of Homer to those of Mr Southey, there is none, in our opinion, at all comparable, for interest and animation,-for breadth of drawing, and magnificence of effect,-with this of Mr Scott's. The Scotish army set fire to its camp on the brow of the hill, and rushed down to the attack, under cover of the smoke of the conflagration.

، Volumed and vaft, and rolling far,
The cloud enveloped Scotland's war,

A

t

As down the hill they broke;
Nor martial fhout, nor minstrel tone,
Announced their march; their tread alone,
At times one warning trumpet blown,
At times a ftifled hum,

Told England, from his mountain-throne
King James did rufhing come.-
Scarce could they hear, or fee their foes,
Until at weapon-point they clofe.-
They clofe, in clouds of fmoke and duft,
With fword-fway, and with lance's thruft;
And fuch a yell was there,

Of fudden and portentous birth,

As if men fought upon the earth,
And fiends in upper air.

Long looked the anxious fquires; their eye
Could in the darkness nought defcry.

At length the freshening weftern blast
Afide the fhroud of battle caft;
And, firft, the ridge of mingled fpears
Above the brightening cloud appears;
And in the fmoke the pennons flew,
As in the ftorm the white fea-mew.
Then marked they, dafhing broad and far,
The broken billows of the war,
And plumed crefts of chieftains brave,
Floating like foam upon the wave;
But nought diftinct they fee:
Wide raged the battle on the plain;
Spears fhook, and falchions flashed amain;
Fell England's arrow-flight like rain ;
Crefts rofe, and ftooped, and rofe again,
Wild and diforderly.

Amid the fcene of tumult, high
They faw Lord Marmion's falcon fly :
And ftainlefs Tunftall's banner white,
And Edmund Howard's lion bright,
Still bear them bravely in the fight;
Although againft them come,
Of gallant Gordons many a one,
And many a ftubborn Highlandman,
And many a rugged Border clan,

With Huntley, and with Home.
Tar on the left, unfeen the while,
Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle;
Though there the western mountaineer
Rufhed with bare bofom on the fpear,

B 4

And

And flung the feeble targe afide,

And with both hands the broad-fword plied:
'Twas vain. But Fortune, on the right,
With fickle fmile, cheered Scotland's fight.
Then fell that fpotlefs banner white,
The Howard's lion fell;

Yet ftill Lord Marmion's falcon flew
With wavering flight, while fiercer grew
Around the battle yell.

The Border flogan rent the sky:
A Home! a Gordon! was the cry;
Loud were the clanging blows;
Advanced, forced back,-now low, now high,

The pennon funk and rofe;

As bends the bark's maft in the gale,

When rent are rigging, fhrouds, and fail,

It wavered mid the foes, P. 354-357

The two squires now successively desert their fair charge to fly to the relief of their Lord; and Clara is left alone on the hill a prey to terror and anxiety.

With that, ftraight up the hill there rode

Two horfemen drenched with gore,

And in their arms, a helplefs load,

A wounded knight they bore.

His hand ftill ftrained the broken brand;
His arms were smeared with blood, and fand.
Dragged from among the horfes' feet,
With dinted fhield, and helmet beat,
The falcon-creft and plumage gone,
Can that be haughty Marinion?....
Young Blount his armour did unlace,
And, gazing on his ghaftly face,

Said" By Saint George, he's gone!
That fpear-wound has our mafter fped;
And fee the deep cut on his head!
Good-night to Marmion. ".

"Unnurtured Blount! thy brawling cease:
He opes his eyes, " faid Euftace; "peace!".

When, doffed his cafque, he felt free air,
Around gan Marmion wildly ftare :-

"Where's Harry Blount? Fitz-Euftace where ?
Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare!

Redeem my pennon,-charge again!
Cry

Marmion to the rescue !'--Vain !
Laft of my race, on battle-plain
That fhout fhall ne'er be heard again!-
Yet my last thought is England's :-fly,

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