Who suffers scathe, and faces death, God speed his end, the poor man's friend, Now lowly lies, &c. "His bosom here, a treasure dere. To wield his sword, and keep his worde, Now lowly lies, &c. "Pray as is meet, my brethern sweet, The maiden Mary's son, The infant fair, our noble heir, In grace to guide him on. I will not name the habit's* claym, But for Jesus' love, that sits above, For churchmen ever pray. Now lowly lies, &c. "Seek not to see, of chivalrye, Or count, or baron bold; Each gallant knight, and squire of might They all are bought and sold; For loyaltie and veritie, They now are done awaye The losel vile may reign by guile, The fool by his foleye. Now lowly lies, &c. "Sir Simon wight, that gallant knight, To heaven above, and joye and love. And endless life, are gone. May He on rood who bought our good, And God, their paine relieve, Who, captive ta’en, are kept in chaine, And depe in dungeon grieve! * The clerical habit is obviously alluded to; and it seems to be cautiously and obscurely hinted, that the church was endangered by the defence of De Montfort.-M. OD. "Now lowly lies the flower of pries, That could so much of weir; Erle Montfort's scathe, and heavy death, Shall cost the world a tear. 11% On the whole, the really good songs of Ritson might be gathered into a single volume. His preliminary dissertation is pleasant enough, and might be retained with improvements. Another volume of additional songs might be collected, and then it would be tolerably complete. I should agree with Ritson as to the propriety of rejecting all political songs, for I think they should make a separate work, which is a desideratum in our literature. Songs of free-masonry also I should exclude, though I do not think with him (p. x.) that they would disgrace the collection, some of them being pretty good, but because they are not intelligible to the uninitiated. The only one in favour of which I should break my rule, that I recollect just now, is Burns's Adieu, a heartwarm fond adieu, dear brethren of the mystic tie." Some time or other, what I propose will be effected. Blackwood should publish it.-M. OD. * It was the object of the translator to imitate, as literally as possible, the style of the original, even in its rudeness, abrupt transitions, and obscurity. Such being the particular request of Mr. Ritson, who supplied the old French of this ballad minstrelsy.- Note by Sir Walter Scott, Lament for Lord Byron.* Air-The Last Rose of Summer. LAMENT for Lord Byron, In full flow of grief, As a sept of Milesians Would mourn o'er their chief! Though in far Missolunghi His body is laid; Though the hands of the stranger His lone grave have made; Its surface will tread, Nor the sun of Old England Shine over its head; Yet, bard of the Corsair, High-spirited Childe; Thou who sang'st of Lord Manfred The destiny wild! Thou star, whose bright radiance Illumined our verse, Our souls cross the blue seas, Thy faults and thy follies, No reproaches from me On thy course shall be thrown, Let the man who is sinless Uplift the first stone. In thy vigor of manhood Small praise from my tongue * Written immediately after Byron's death; sung by Odoherty at THE NOCTES; published in Blackwood for June, 1824.- M Had thy fame or thy talents, For that Church, and that State, and Or rash laughter moved. But I hoped in my bosom That moment would come, For that soul, O lost Byron! In brillianter hours, Must have turn'd to its country- Now slumber, bright spirit! Sleeps with heroes and sages, And poets of Greece; Is embalm'd till the mountains Odoherty's Dirge.* Oh! when I am departed and passed away, Down, derry down. If my darling girl pass, gently bid her come in, To join the libation she'll think it no sin; Though she choose a new sweetheart, and doff the black gown, Down, derry down. * Chanted by Odoherty, at THE NOCTES, and published in Blackwood for June, 1824.- M. |