And far beneath, in lustre wan,
Old Melros' rose, and fair Tweed ran :*
Like some tall rock, with lichens gray,
Seemed, dimly huge, the dark Abbaye.
When Hawick he passed, had curfew rung,
Now midnight lauds were in Melrose sung.
The sound upon the fitful gale,

In solemn wise did rise and fail,
Like that wild harp, whose magic tone
Is wakened by the winds alone.

But when Melrose he reached, 'twas silence all;
He meetly stabled his steed in stall,

And sought the convent's lonely wall.

HERE paused the harp; and with its swell
The Master's fire and courage fell:
Dejectedly, and low, he bowed,
And, gazing timid on the crowd,
He seemed to seek, in every eye,
If they approved his minstrelsy;
And, diffident of present praise,
Somewhat he spoke of former days,
And how old age, and wandering long,
Had done his hand and harp some wrong.

The Duchess, and her daughters fair,
And every gentle ladye there,

Each after each, in due degree,

Gave praises to his melody;

His hand was true, his voice was clear,
And much they longed the rest to hear.
Encouraged thus, the Aged Man,
After meet rest, again began.

The monastery of Meirose, founded by King David I., is the finest specimen of Gothic architecture, and Gothic sculpture, which Scotland can boast. The stone of which it is built, retains perfect sharpness, so that even the most minute ornaments seem as entire as when newly wrought. In some of the cloisters, there are representations of flowers, vegetables, &c., carved in stone, with accuracy and precision so delicate, that we almost distrust our senses, when we consider the difficulty of subjecting so hard a substance to such intricate and exquisite modulation.

+ Lauds, the midnight service of the Catholic church.

CANTO SECOND.

I.

If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale moonlight;
For the gay beams of lightsome day
Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.

When the broken arches are black in night,
And each shafted oriel glimmers white;
When the cold light's uncertain shower
Streams on the ruined central tower;
When buttress and buttress, alternately,
Seem framed of ebon and ivory;
When silver edges the imagery,

And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die;*
When distant Tweed is heard to rave,

And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave,
Then go but go alone the while-
Then view St David's ruined pile:+
And, home returning, soothly swear,
Was never scene so sad and fair!

11.

Short halt did Deloraine make there;
Little recked he of the scene so fair.
With dagger's hilt, on the wicket strong,
He struck full loud, and struck full long.
The porter hurried to the gate

"Who knocks so loud, and knocks so late?"
"From Branksome I," the warrior cried;

And strait the wicket opened wide:

For Branksome's chiefs had in battle stood,
To fence the rights of fair Melrose;

The buttresses of the ruins of Melrose, are richly carved and fretted, containing niches for the statues of saints, and labelled with scrolls, bearing appropriate texts of Scripture. Most of these statues have been demolished.

+ David the first of Scotland, who was sainted for his liberality in founding and endowing Melrose, and other monasteries

And lands and livings, many a rood,

Had gifted the shrine for their souls' reposa.*

III.

Bold Deloraine his errand said;
The porter bent his humble head;
With torch in hand, and feet unshod,
And noiseless step, the path he trod;
The arched cloisters, far and wide,
Rang to the warrior's clanking stride;
Till, stooping low his lofty crest,
He entered the cell of the ancient priest,
And lifted his barred aventayle,+
To hail the Monk of St Mary's aisle.

IV.

"The Ladye of Branksome greets thee by me;
Says, that the fated hour is come,
And that to-night I shall watch with thee,
To win the treasure of the tomb."
From sackeloth couch the Monk arose,
With toil his stiffened limbs he reared;
A hundred years had flung their snows
On his thin locks and floating beard.

V.

And strangely on the Knight looked he,

And his blue eyes gleamed wild and wide;"And, dar'st thou, warrior! seek to see

What heaven and hell alike would hide?

My breast, in belt of iron pent,

With shirt of hair and scourge of thorn;
For threescore years, in penance spent,
My knees those flinty stones have worn;
Yet all too little to atone

For knowing what should ne'er be known.
Would'st thou thy every future year

In ceaseless prayer and penance drie,
Yet wait thy latter end with fear-
Then, daring warrior, follow me!"

The Buccleuch family were great benefactors to the abbey Melrose.

+ Aventayle, visor of the belmet.

VI.

"Penance, father, will I none;
Prayer know I hardly one;

For mass or prayer can I rarely tarry,
Save to patter an Ave Mary,

When I ride on a Border foray:*

Other prayer can I none;

So speed me my errand, and let me begone."

VII.

Again on the Knight looked the Churchman old,
And again he sighed heavily;

For he had himself been a warrior bold,

And fought in Spain and Italy.

And he thought on the days that were long since by, When his limbs were strong, and his courage was Now, slow and faint, he led the way,

Where, cloistered round, the garden lay;

The pillared arches were over their head,

[high:

And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead.†

VIII.

Spreading herbs, and flowerets bright,
Glistened with the dew of night;

Nor herb, nor floweret, glistened there,
But was carved in the cloister-arches as fair.
The Monk gazed long on the lovely moon,
Then into the night he looked forth;

And red and bright the streamers light
Were dancing in the glowing north.
So had he seen, in fair Castile,

The youth in glittering squadrons start;
Suddenly the flying jennet wheel,

And hurl the unexpected dart.+

The Borderers were very ignorant about religious matters But however deficient in real religion, they regularly told their beads, and never with more zeal than when going on a plundering expedition.

The cloisters were frequently used as places of sepulchre.

The warlike pastime of throwing the jerreed, has prevailed in the east from time immemorial, and was imitated in the military game called Juego de las canas, which the Spaniards borrowed from their Moorish invaders,

He knew, by the streamers that shot so bright,
That spirits were riding the northern light.

IX.

By a steel-clenched postern door,
They entered now the chancel tall;
The darkened roof rose high aloof

On pillars, lofty, and light, and small;
The key-stone, that locked each ribbed aisle.
Was a fleur-de-lys, or a quatre-feuille;
The corbells were carved grotesque and grim;
And the pillars, with clustered shafts so trim,
With base and with capital flourished around,
Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had bound.

X.

Full many a scutcheon and banner, riven,
Shook to the cold night-wind of heaven,
Around the screened altar's pale;
And there the dying lamps did burn
Before thy low and lonely urn,

O gallant Chief of Otterburne,†

And thine, dark Knight of Liddesdale!+

O fading honours of the dead!

O high ambition, lowly laid!

XI.

The moon on the east oriel shone,§
Through slender shafts of shapely stone,

Corbells, the projections from which these arches spring, usually cut in a fantastic face, or mask.

+ The famous and desperate battle of Otterburne was fought 15th August, 1888, betwixt Henry Percy, called Hotspur, and James Earl of Douglas. The Scots won the day, dearly purchased by the death of their gallant general, the Earl of Douglas, who was slain in the action. He was buried at Melrose beneath the high altar.

William Douglas, called the knight of Liddesdale, flourished during the reign of David II.; and was so distinguished by his valour, that he was called the Flower of Chivalry. He was slain while hunting in Ettrick Forest, by his own godson and chieftain, William Earl of Douglas, and was interred, with great pomp in Meirose abbey, where his tomb is still shown.

§ It is impossible to conceive a more beautiful specimen of Gothic architecture, in its purity, than the eastern window of Malrose abbey. Sir James Hall, bas traced the Gothic order