"I come to bear the king his bride, Here is his hand and royal seal.”

Old Erol looked the letter on,

He scarcely could believe his ee; "Our royal liege is sore misled,

I will not yield the maid to thee."

"Then by my faith I must her take
In spite of all that bars my way;
I bear my order from my king,
Which yet I never did gainsay.”

He pulled his broad sword from his thigh,
It flickered like the meteor's ray;
"Lay on them, lads," Lord Athol cried,
"I long with such to have a fray."

Clash went the swords along the van,
That onset might not be withstood,
The highland horse they were so fierce,
They bathed their hooves in lowland blood.

The king put her fair hand in his !
"Now, abbot, here thy question try."
The abbot stared and straight obeyed,
Ah, it was answered readily!

"Then join them, sire, and bless the bond,
I joy such lovers blest to see,
The one respected sovereign's will,
The other, parent's high decree.”

Lord Athol kneeled and clasped his king,
And shed the tears upon his knee;
But the fair bride hung round his neck,
And kissed his lips in extacye.

"Go with thy lover, bonny Hay,
Thou well befitt'st his manly side,
And thou shalt have the fairest dower
That ever went with highland bride.

"I ne'er saw such a lovely face,
I never looked on form so fair,
But a foolish thought rose in my breast,
-That Athol's child might be my heir!

"Go, my brave Douglas of the dale,
And bring your Madeline to me;
I oft have marked her eagle eye—
The Queen of Scotland she shall be.”

Old Douglas bowed and left the hall,
How proudly waved his locks of gray!
A sound was issuing from his breast,
Laughing or crying none could say.

O such a double bridal and feast,
And such a time of joyful glee,
And such a wise and worthy king,
Dumbarton town shall never see.

BARNARD.

A MONASTIC LEGEND.

WHEN first our convent settled there,
Green Ulster was but savage ground;
They barred the doors at eve with care,
And heard the forests whistle round.
Barnard, a monk of stedfast look,
One night our abbey's hearth forsook,
And, stung with grief, unwitting came
Down some wild glen without a name.
It was a strange and savage place;
The grey stones scattered o'er its face
With hoary glimmer shone :

The night was wild; the moon o'ercast
With clouds careering thick and fast;
But still her light, in streaks of white,
Burst out, as rapidly she passed
Through her dark path alone.
A wilder'd panic urged him back,
And searching for his former track,
A ring of stones he found;
'Twas piled of yore, by Druids grim,
And 'mong its lights and shadows dim
An aged man of boney limb

Lay gasping on the ground.

"The hand of death is o'er my head,My soul is full of doubt and dread,— Surely my groans have brought thee nigh! Then stop, and watch me till I die." "I will-but wherefore art thou here, Why thus alone, when death's so near?" "Alone! alone! The human race May well avoid this bloody place. But troops of spectres come again, And infants whom my sires have slain.

Round those dark stones they used to play,

And tell me of my dying day."

"Old man, thou ravest, clear thy brow; What were thy sires, and who art thou?" "Behold around those scattered heaps, In each of these a Druid sleeps; These were my sires; but I have none, To do my rites, as their's were done. This glen has been my sires' abode,