"Let's drink, and rant, and merry make,

And he that spares, ne'er mote be thee."

They ranted, drank, and merry made,

Till all his gold it waxèd thin; And then his friends they slunk away;

They left the unthrifty heir of Linne.

He had never a penny left in his purse,

Never a penny left but three,
And one was brass, another was lead,
And another it was white monéy.

"Now_well-a-day" said the heir of Linne,

"Now well-a-day, and woe is me, For when I was the lord of Linne, I never wanted gold nor fee.

"But many a trusty friend have I,
And why should I feel dole or care?
I'll borrow of them all by turns,
So need I not be never bare."

But one I wis, was not at home; Another had paid his gold away; Another called him thriftless loon, And bade him sharply wend his way.

"Now_well-a-day," said the heir of Linne,

"Now well-a-day, and woe is me; For when I had my landes so broad, On me they lived right merrily.

"To beg my bread from door to door,
I wis, it were a burning shame;
To rob and steal it were a sin;
To work, my limbs I cannot frame.

"Now I'll away to the lonesome lodge, For there my father bade me wend: When all the world should frown on

me

I there should find a trusty friend."

PART THE SECOND.

Away then hied the heir of Linne, O'er hill and holt, and moor and fen, Until he came to the lonesome lodge, That stood so low in a lonely glen.

Two were full of the beaten golde, The third was full of white monéy; And over them in broad letters These words were written so plain to see.

"Once more, my sonne, I set thee clere;

Amend thy life and follies past;
For but thou amend thee of thy life,
That rope must be thy end at last."

"And let it be" said the heire of Linne,

"And let it be, but if I amend: For here I will make mine avow, This reade shall guide me to the end."

Away then went with a merry cheare,

Away then went the heire of Linne; I wis, he neither ceased ne blanne, Till John o' the Scales house he did winne.

And when he came to John o' the Scales,

Up at the speere then lookèd he: There sate three lords upon a rowe, Were drinking of the wine so free.

And John himself sate at the bordhead,

Because now lord of Linne was he; "I pray thee" he said, "good John o' the Scales,

One forty pence for to lend me."

"Away, away, thou thriftless loone; Away, away, this may not be: For Christ's curse on my head" he said,

"If ever I trust thee one pennie."

Then bespake the heir of Linne, To John o' the Scales' wife then spake he:

"Madame, some almes on me bestowe,

I pray for sweet saint Charitie."

"Away, away, thou thriftless loone, I sweare thou gettest no almes of

me;

For if we should hang any losel here, The first we wold begin with thee."

Then bespake a good fellówe, Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord;

Said, "Turn again, thou heir of Linne;

Some time thou wast a well good lord.

"Some time a good fellow thou hast been,

And sparedst not thy gold and fee; Therefore I'll lend thee forty pence, And other forty if need be.

"And ever I pray thee, John o' the Scales,

To let him sit in thy companie:
For well I wot thou hadst his land,
And a good bargain it was to thee."

Up then spake him John o' the Scales,
All wood he answered him againe:
'Now Christ's curse on my head"
he said,

66

"But I did lose by that bargáine.

And here I proffer thee, heir of Linne,

Before these lords so faire and free, Thou shalt have it backe again bet

ter cheape

"Friends! ye have, alas! to know
Of a most disastrous blow,
That the Christians, stern and bold,
Have obtained Alhama's hold."
Woe is me, Alhama!

Out then spake old Alfaqui,
With his beard so white to see,
"Good king, thou art justly served,
Good king, this thou hast deserved.
Woe is me, Alhama!

"By thee were slain, in evil hour,
The Abencerrage, Granada's flower;
And strangers were received by thee
Of Cordova the chivalry.

Woe is me, Alhama!

"And for this, O king! is sent On thee a double chastisement, Thee and thine, thy crown and realm,

One last wreck shall overwhelm. Woe is me, Alhama!"

Fire flashed from out the old Moor's eyes,

The monarch's wrath began to rise, Because he answered, and because He spake exceeding well of laws. Woe is me, Alhama!

"There is no law to say such things As may disgust the ear of kings:". Thus, snorting with his choler, said The Moorish king, and doomed him dead.

Woe is me, Almaha!

Moor Alfaqui! Moor Alfaqui!
Though thy beard so hoary be,
The king hath sent to have thee
seized,
For Alhama's loss displeased.
Woe is me, Alhama!

And to fix thy head upon
High Alhambra's loftiest stone;
That this for thee should be the

law,

And others tremble when they saw.
Woe is me, Alhama!

"Cavalier! and man of worth!
Let these words of mine go forth;
Let the Moorish monarch know,
That to him I nothing owe.
Woe is me, Alhama!

It was not long ere it made its way,-
A thriling, ceaseless sound:
It was no noise from the strife afar,
Or the sappers under ground.

It was the pipes of the Highlanders! And now they played Auld Lang Syne.

It came to our men like the voice of God,

And they shouted along the line.

And they wept, and shook one an

other's hands,

And the women sobbed in a crowd; And every one knelt down where he stood,

And we all thanked God aloud.

That happy time, when we welcomed them,

Our men put Jessie first; And the general gave her his hand,

and cheers

Like a storm from the soldiers burst.

And the pipers' ribbons and tartan streamed,

Marching round and round our line;

And our joyful cheers were broken with tears,

As the pipes played Auld Lang Syne.

ROBERT Lowell.

SIR ANDREW BARTON.

THE FIRST PART.

WHEN Flora with her fragrant flow

er's

Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye,

And Neptune with his dainty show

ers

Came to present the month of
Maye,

King Henry rode to take the air,

Over the River Thames past he; When eighty merchants of London came,

And down they knelt upon their knee.

“O ye are welcome, rich merchants, Good saylors, welcome unto me: They swore by the rood, they were saylors good,

But rich merchants they could not be.

"To France nor Flanders dare we pass,

Nor Bordeaux voyage dare we fare, And all for a robber that lyes on the seas,

Who robs us of our merchant ware.'

King Henry frowned, and turned him round,

And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might,

"I thought he had not been in the world,

Durst have wrought England such unright."

The merchants sighed and said, "Alas!"

And thus they did their answer