rican come to study the fine arts in Rome; and that such an event furnished a new and magnificent theme.

"Homer took possession of the thought with the ardour of inspiration. He immediately unslung his guitar, and began to draw his fingers rapidly over the strings, swinging his body from side to side, and striking fine and impressive chords. When he had thus brought his motions and his feelings into unison with the instrument, he began an extemporaneous ode in a manner so dignified, so pathetic, and so enthusiastic, that Mr. West was scarcely less interested by his appearance than those who enjoyed the subject and melody of his numbers.

:

"He sung the darkness which for so many ages veiled America from the eyes of science. He described the fullness of time, when the purposes for which it had been raised from the deep were to be manifested. He painted the seraph of knowledge descending from heaven, and directing Columbus to undertake the discovery and he related the leading incidents of the voyage. He invoked the fancy of the auditors to contemplate the wild magnificence of mountain, lake, and wood, in the new world; and he raised, as it were, in vivid perspective, the Indians in the chase, and at their horrible sacrifices. But,' he continued,' the beneficent spirit of improvement is ever on the wing, and, like the ray from the throne of God, it has descended on this youth, and the hope which ushered in its new miracle, like the star that guided the magi to Bethlehem, has led him to Rome.

Methinks I behold in him an instrument chosen by heaven, to raise in America the taste for those arts which elevate the nature of man—an assurance that his country will afford a refuge to science and knowledge, when in the old age of Europe they shall have forsaken her shores. But all things of heavenly origin, like the glorious sun, move westward; and truth and art have their periods of shining and of night. Rejoice then, O venerable Rome, in thy divine destiny; for though darkness overshadow thy seats, and though thy mitred head must descend into the dust, as deep as the earth that now covers thy ancient helmet and imperial diadem, thy spirit, immortal and undecayed, already reaches towards a new world, where, like the soul of man in paradise, it will be perfected in virtue and beauty more and more.' "The highest efforts of the greatest actors, even of Garrick himself delivering the poetry of Shakspeare, never produced a more immediate and inspiring effect than this rapid burst of genius. When the applause had abated, Mr. West, being the stranger, and the party addressed, according to the common practice, made the bard a present. Mr. Hamilton explained the subject

of the ode though with the weakness of a verbal translation, and the imperfection of an indistinct echo, it was so connected with the appearance which the author made in the recital, that the incident was never obliterated from Mr. West's recollection."

THE CHILD OF BRANKSOME.

Among the inmates of castles, and the attendants of the Knights, were the Dwarfs—little deformed persons who made sport for the idle, and who were sometimes favourites of young and beautiful ladies. The old romances describe dwarfs as possessing supernatural powers. In the Lay of the Last Minstrel, a mischievous Dwarf is introduced, who had the power to deceive others, by making objects appear to be different from themselves —so as to make a rider and his horse seem to be a load of hay— a child to be a dog, &c. This dwarf of Sir Walter Scott's enters the castle of Buccleuch, and entices from it a little boy, the heir of Branksome. He leads the child into the woods, and leaves him; here the boy is scented by a blood-hound, and taken by one of the retainers of Lord Dacre, an Englishman, who was an enemy of the Scotts, the boy's father's Clan. Clan signifies, a large number of tenants who acknowledge one lord, who live upon his estate, and who, in former times, fought the Lord's battles with his neighbours—the application of this word is chiefly to the Scotts. The spirit of this little Scott is a fine specimen of the manners of the young chiefs of the Scottish clans, who were trained from their infancy to protect their father's dependants, and to regard his enemies without fear,

"As passed the Dwarf the outer court,
He spied the fair young child at sport:
He thought to train him to the wood;
For, at a word, be it understood,
He was always for ill, and never for good.
Seemed to the boy, some comrade gay
Led him forth to the woods to play;
On the drawbridge the warders stout
Saw a terrier and larcher passing out.
He led the boy o'er bank and fell,
Until they came to a woodland brook;
The running stream dissolved the spell,
And his old elvish shape he took.
Could he have had his pleasure vilde,
He had crippled the joints of the noble child

Or, with his fingers long and lean,
Had strangled him in fiendish spleen :
But his awful mother he had in dread,
And also his power was limited;

So he but scowled on the startled child,
And darted through the forest wild;

The woodland brook he bounding crossed,
And laughed, and shouted, 'Lost! lost! lost!"

Full sore amazed at the wonderous change.
And frightened, as a child might be,
At the wild yell, and visage strange,
And the dark words of gramarye,
The child, amidst the forest bower,
Stood rooted like a lilye flower;

And when at length, with trembling pace,
He sought to find where Branksome lay,
He feared to see that grisly face

Glare from some thicket on his way.

Thus, starting oft, he journeyed on,
And deeper in the wood is gone,—
For aye the more he sought his way,
The further still he went astray,
Until he heard the mountains round
Ring to the baying of a hound.

And hark! and hark! the deep-mouthed bark
Comes nigher still, and nigher;
Bursts on the path a dark blood-hound,
His tawny muzzle tracked the ground,
As his red eye shot fire.

Soon as the wildered child saw he,

He flew at him right furiouslie.

I ween you would have seen with joy
The bearing of the gallant boy,
When worthy of this noble sire,

His wet cheek glowed 'twixt fear and ire!
He faced the blood-hound manfully,

And held his little bat on high;

So fierce he struck, the dog, afraid,

At cautious distance hoarsely bayed,

But still in act to spring;

When dashed an archer through the glade,
And when he saw the hound was stayed,
He drew big tough bow-string;

But a rough voice cried,' Shoot not, hoy!
Ho! shoot not Edward—'tis a boy!'

The speaker issued from the wood,
And checked his fellow's surly mood,
And quelled the ban-dog's ire,
He would not do the fair child harm,
But held him with his powerful arm,
That he might neither fight nor flee;
For when the red cross spied he,
The boy strove long and violently.
Now, by St. George,' the archer cries,
Edward, methinks we have a prize!
This boy's fair face and courage free,
Shows he is come of high degree.'—
'Yes, I am come of high degree,

For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch ;
And, if thou dost not set me free,

False southron, thou shalt dearly rue!
For Walter of Harden shall come with speed,
And William of Deloraine, good at need,
And every Scot from Eske to Tweed!
And if thou dost not let me go,
Despite thy arrows, and thy bow,
I'll have thee hanged to feed the crow!'
Gramercy, for thy good will, fair boy!
My mind was never set so high;
But if thou art chief of such a clan,
And art the son of such a man,
And ever com'st to thy command,

Our wardens had need to keep good order :

My bow of yew to a hazel wand,

Thou'lt make them work upon the Border.
Meantime, be pleased to come with me,
For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see;
I think our work is well begun,

When we have taken thy father's son.'

His old elvish shape he took. Those who describe the power of witches and dwarfs, pretend that they cannot cross a brook in their assumed form. The dwarf had appeared to the deceived boy to be a companion of his own age. When he took his own shape, and darted away, yelling as he disappeared, the child was

frightened—but the real danger from the blood-hound does not terrify him.

His awful mother he had in dread. The dwarf was afraid of the child's mother. She was more skilled in necromancy, or gramarye, than he was.

THE GALLIARD'S WHITE HORSE.

Under the feudal system, the vassals were considered as cattle. A man was not valued at so much as a war-horse. At length, however, the vassals began to feel their importance, and they did not always comply with the demands of their Lord, who might, if he would, punish them for their disobedience, or give them with the lands they cultivated, to another master. The tenants under this system were superior to mere labourers, they held lands in fief—as the grant, under certain conditions, of their lord. These were called feudatories, and their property was called a fief.

When a man received his fief, he became the liegeman of the liege or lord; and when he acknowledged the relation subsisting between himself and the lord, the liegeman offered the lord homage. He then knelt before him, and placing his hands upon the lord's knees, said, “Sire, I become your liegeman for such a fief, and I promise to guard and defend you against all people." The lord answered, "I receive you; and your lands I will defend as my own:" and he then kissed his tenant as a pledge of faith.

One instance of the spirit of resistance to feudal power, and its consequences, is told by Sir Walter Scott:

Earl Morton was lord of that valley* fair,
The Beattisons were his vassals there.

The Earl was gentle, and mild of mood,

The vassals were warlike, and fierce, and rude;

High of heart, and haughty of word,

Little they reeked of a tame liege lord.

The Earl to fair Eskdale came,

Homage and Seignory to claim:

Of Gilbert the Galliard, a heriot† he sought,
Saying, 'Give thy best steed as a vassal ought.

• Eskdale.

† The feudal superior, in certain cases, was entitled to the best horse of the vassal, in name of Heriot, or Herezeld, a gift due from the tenant to his lord at certain times.