But up there came two squires renowned;
In search of Lord Douglas they came;
And when they saw their master down,
Their spirits mounted in a flame.

And they flew upon the Tinkler wight,
Like perfect tigers on their prey:
But the Tinkler heaved his trusty sword,
And made him ready for the fray.

"Come one to one, ye coward knaves,—
Come hand to hand, and steed to steed;
I would that ye were better men,
For this is glorious work indeed!"

Before you could have counted twelve,
The Tinkler's wondrous chivalrye
Had both the squires upon the sward,
And their horses galloping o'er the lea.

The Tinkler tied them neck and heel, And mony a biting jest gave he: "O fie, for shame!" said the Tinkler lad; "Siccan fighters I did never see!"

He slit one of their bridle reins,

O, what disgrace the conquered feels!And he skelpit the squires with that good tawse, Till the blood ran off at baith their heels.

The Douglas he was forced to laugh

Till down his cheeks the salt tear ran:

"I think the deevil be come here

In the likeness of a tinkler man!"

Then he has to Lord Douglas gone,
And he raised him kindly by the hand,

And he set him on his gallant steed,
And bore him away to Henderland:

"Be not cast down, my Lord Douglas,
Nor writhe beneath a broken bane;
For the leech's art will mend the part,
And your honor lost will spring again.

"'Tis true, Jock Johnstone is my name; I'm a right good tinkler, as you see; For I can crack a casque betimes,

Or clout one, as my need may be.

"Jock Johnstone is my name, 'tis true,
But noble hearts are allied to me;
For I am the lord of Annandale,
And a knight and earl as well as thee."

Then Douglas strained the hero's hand, And took from it his sword again: "Since thou art the lord of Annandale, Thou hast eased my heart of meikle pain.

"I might have known thy noble form

In that disguise thou 'rt pleased to wear; All Scotland knows thy matchless arm, And England by experience dear.

"We have been foes as well as friends, And jealous of each other's sway; But little can I comprehend

Thy motive for these pranks to-day."

"Sooth, my good lord, the truth to tell, 'Twas I that stole your love away, And gave her to the lord of Ross

An hour before the break of day;

"For the lord of Ross is my brother,
By all the laws of chivalrye;
And I brought with me a thousand men
To guard him to my ain countrye.

"But I thought meet to stay behind,
And try your lordship to waylay,
Resolved to breed some noble sport,
By leading you so far astray.

"Judging it better some lives to spare,-
Which fancy takes me now and then,-
And settle our quarrel hand to hand,

Than each with our ten thousand men.

"God send you soon, my Lord Douglas,

To Border foray sound and haill!

But never strike a tinkler again,

If he be a Johnstone of Annandale."

James Hogg.

THE VOICES AT THE THRONE.

A little child,

A little meek-faced, quiet village child,

Sat singing by her cottage door at eve

A low, sweet Sabbath song. No human ear
Caught the faint melody,-no human eye

Beheld the upturned aspect, or the smile

That wreathed her innocent lips while they breathed The oft-repeated burden of the hymn,

"Praise God! Praise God!"

A seraph by the throne.

In full glory stood. With eager hand

He smote the golden harp-string, till a flood

Of harmony on the celestial air

Welled forth, unceasing. There, with a great voice
He sang the "Holy, holy evermore,

Lord God Almighty!" and the eternal courts
Thrilled with the rapture, and the hierarchies,

Angel, and rapt archangel, throbbed and burned
With vehement adoration.

Higher yet

Rose the majestic anthem, without pause,

Higher, with rich magnificence of sound,

To its full strength; and still the infinite heavens
Rang with the "Holy, holy evermore!"

Till, trembling with excessive awe and love,
Each sceptered spirit sank before the throne
With a mute hallelujah.

But even then,

While the ecstatic song was at its height,
Stole in an alien voice-a voice that seemed
To float, float upward from some world afar—

A meek and childlike voice, faint, but how sweet!
That blended with the spirits' rushing strain,
Even as a fountain's music with the roll

Of the reverberate thunder.

Loving smiles

Lit up the beauty of each angel's face

At that new utterance, smiles of joy that grew
More joyous yet, as ever and anon

Was heard the simple burden of the hymn,
"Praise God! Praise God!"

And when the seraph's song

Had reached its close, and o'er the golden lyre
Silence hung brooding,—when the eternal courts
Rang with the echoes of his chant sublime,

Still through the abysmal space that wandering voice
Came floating upward from its world afar,

Still murmured sweet on the celestial air, "Praise God! Praise God!"

T. Westwood.

LADY CLARE.

It was the time when lilies blow,
And clouds are highest up in air,
Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe
To give his cousin, Lady Clare.

I trow they did not part in scorn:

Lovers long-betroth'd were they:
They two will wed the morrow morn;
God's blessing on the day!

"He does not love me for my birth,

Nor for my lands so broad and fair;
He loves me for my own true worth,
And that is well," said Lady Clare.

In there came old Alice the nurse,

Said, "Who was this that went from thee?” "It was my cousin," said Lady Clare, "To-morrow he weds with me."

"O, God be thank'd!" said Alice the nurse, "That all comes round so just and fair; Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands,

And you are not the Lady Clare.

"Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse,
Said Lady Clare, "that ye speak so wild?”
"As God's above," said Alice the nurse,
"I speak the truth: you are my child.

"The old Earl's daughter died at my breast;
I speak the truth, as I live by bread!
I buried her like my own sweet child,
And put my child in her stead."

"Falsely, falsely have ye done,

O mother," she said, "if this be true;-
To keep the best man under the sun
So many years from his due."

"Nay, now, my child," said Alice the nurse,
"But keep the secret for your life,

And all you have will be Lord Ronald's,
When you are man and wife.

"If I'm a beggar born," she said,
"I will speak out, for I dare not lie.
Pull off, pull off the brooch of gold,
And fling the diamond necklace by."

"Nay, now, my child," said Alice the nurse,
"But keep the secret all ye can.

She said, "Not so; but I will know

If there be any faith in man.

"Nay, now, what faith?" said Alice the nurse; "The man will cleave unto his right." "And he shall have it," the lady replied, "Though I should die to-night.

"Yet give one kiss to your mother dear!
Alas, my child, I sinn'd for thee.
"O mother, mother, mother," she said,
"So strange it seems to me.