His Shepherd's staff; for midway in the cliff,
It had been caught; and there for many years
It hung-and moulder'd there.

The Priest here ended

The Stranger would have thank'd him, but he felt
Tears rushing in; both left the spot in silence,
And Leonard, when they reach'd the church-yard gate,
As the Priest lifted up the latch, turn'd round,

And, looking at the grave, he said, "My Brother."
The Vicar did not hear the words: and now,
Pointing towards the Cottage, he entreated
That Leonard would partake his homely fare :
The other thank'd him with a fervent voice,
But added, that, the evening being calm,
He would pursue his journey. So they parted.

It was not long ere Leonard reach'd a grove
That overhung the road: he there stopp'd short,
And, sitting down beneath the trees, review'd
All that the Priest had said: his early years

Were with him in his heart: his cherish'd hopes,
And thoughts which had been his an hour before,
All press'd on him with such a weight, that now,
This vale, where he had been so happy, seem'd
A place in which he could not bear to live:
So he relinquish'd all his purposes.

He travell'd on to Egremont: and thence,
That night, he wrote a letter to the Priest
Reminding him of what had pass'd between them;
And adding, with a hope to be forgiven,

That it was from the weakness of his heart,
He had not dared to tell him who he was.

This done, he went on shipboard, and is now
A Seaman, a grey headed Mariner,

ELLEN IRWIN,

Or the BRAES of KIRTLE

Fair Ellen Irwin, when she sate
Upon the Braes of Kirtle,

Was lovely as a Grecian Maid
Adorn'd with wreaths of myrtle.

Young Adam Bruce beside her lay;
And there did they beguile the day
With love and gentle speeches,

Beneath the budding beeches.

*The Kirtle is a River in the Southern part of Scotland, on whose banks the events here related took place.

From many Knights and many Squires

The Bruce had been selected;

And Gordon, fairest of them all,

By Ellen was rejected.

Sad tidings to that noble Youth!

For it may be proclaim'd with truth, If Bruce hath lov'd sincerely,

The Gordon loves as dearly.

But what is Gordon's beauteous face?

And what are Gordon's crosses

To them who sit by Kirtle's Braes

Upon the verdant mosses ?

Alas that ever he was born!

The Gordon, couch'd behind a thorn,

Sees them and their caressing,

Beholds them bless'd and blessing.

Proud Gordon cannot bear the thoughts

That through his brain are travelling,

And, starting up, to Bruce's heart

He launch'd a deadly jav'lin!

Fair Ellen saw it when it came,

And, stepping forth to meet the same,

Did with her body cover

The Youth her chosen lover.

And, falling into Bruce's arms,

Thus died the beauteous Ellen,

Thus from the heart of her true-love

The mortal spear repelling.

And Bruce, as soon as he had slain

The Gordon, sail'd away to Spain;

And fought with rage incessant
Against the Moorish Crescent.