No. XXI.

THE EVE OF SAINT JOHN.

ORIGINAL. -WALTER SCOTT.

Smaylho'me, or Smallholm Tower, the scene of the following Ballad, is situated on the northern boundary of Roxburghshire, among a cluster of wild rocks, called Sandiknow-Crags, the property of Hugh Scott, Esq. of Harden. The tower is a high square building, surrounded by an outer wall, now ruinous. The circuit of the outer court being defended, on three sides, by precipice and morass, is only accessible from the west, by a steep and rocky path. The apartments, as usual, in a Border Keep, or fortress, are placed one above another, and communicate by a narrow stair; on the roof are two bartizans, or platforms, for defence or pleasure. The inner door of the tower is wood, the outer an iron grate; the distance between them being nine fect, the thickness, namely, of the wall. From the elevated situation of Smaylho'me Tower, it is seen many miles in every direction. Among the crags by which it is surrounded, one more eminent is called the Watchfold, and is said to have been the station of a beacon in the times of war with England. Without the towercourt is a ruined Chapel.

THE Baron of Smaylho'me rose with day,
He fpurr'd his courfer on,

Without stop or stay, down the rocky way
That leads to Brotherstone.

Ho

He went not with the bold Buccleuch,
His banner broad to rear;

He went not 'gainst the English yew

To lift the Scottish spear.

Yet his plate-jack * was braced, and his helmet was laced,
And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore ;

At his faddle-gerthe was a good steel sperthe,
Full ten pound weight and more.

The Baron return'd in three day's space,

And his looks were fad and four,

And weary was his courfer's pace

As he reached his rocky tower.

He came not from where Ancram Moor +
Ran red with English blood,

Where the Douglas true, and the bold Buccleuck,
'Gainft keen Lord Ivers ftood;

Yet was his helmet hack'd and hew'd,

His acton pierced and tore;

The plate-jack is a coat armour; the vaunt brace (avant-bras), armour for the shoulders and arms; the sperthe, a battle-axe.

A. D. 1555, was fought the battle of Ancram Moor, in which Archibald Douglas Earl of Angus, and Sir Walter Scott of Buccleuch, routed a fuperior English army, under Lord Ralph Ivers, and Sir Brian Latoun.

His axe and his dagger with blood embrued,
But it was not English gore.

He lighted at the Chapellage,

He held him close and still,

And he whistled twice for his little foot page,
His name was English Will.

"Come thou hither, my little foot page, "Come hither to my knee,

Though thou art young, and tender of age,

'

"I think thou art true to me.

"Come, tell me all that thou haft feen, "And look thou tell me true;

"Since I from Smaylho'me Tower have been, "What did thy Lady do?"—

-"My Lady each night, fought the lonely light, "That burns on the wild Watchfold;

"For from height to height, the beacons bright, "Of the English foemen told.

"The bittern clamour'd from the mofs,
"The wind blew loud and fhrill,
"Yet the craggy pathway the did cross
"To the eiry* beacon hill,

* Eiry is a Scotch expreffion, fignifying the feeling infpired by the dread

of apparitions.

"I watch'd

"I watch'd her steps, and filent came "Where she fate her on a stone

;

No watchman stood by the dreary flame, "It burned all alone.

"The fecond night I kept her in fight,

"Till to the fire fhe came;

"And by Mary's might, an armed knight "Stood by the lonely flame.

"And many a word that warlike lord "Did speak to my Lady there,

"But the rain fell faft, and loud blew the blaft, "And I heard not what they were.

"The third night there the sky was fair, "And the mountain blast was still,

"As again I watch'd the secret pair, "On the lonesome beacon hill;

"And I heard her name the midnight hour,

"And name this holy eve;

"And fay, come that night to thy Lady's bower; "Afk no bold Baron's leavë.

"He lifts his fpear with the bold Buccleuch,

"His Lady is alone ;

"The door she'll undo, to her knight fo true, "On the eve of good St. John.".

"I cannot

"I cannot come, I muft not come,

"I dare not come to thee;

"On the eve of St. John I must wander alone, "In thy bower I may not be."

"Now out on thee, faint-hearted knight !
"Thou should'ft not fay me nay,
"For the eve is fweet, and when lovers meet,

"Is worth the whole fummer's day.

"And I'll chain the blood-hound, and the warder fhall

not found,

"And rufhes fhall be ftrew'd on the stair,

"So by the rood-ftone, and by holy St. John,

"I conjure thee, my love, to be there.".

"Though the blood-hound be mute, and the rufh be

neath my foot,

"And the warder his bugle fhould not blow, "Yet there fleepeth a priest in the chamber to the east, "And my footstep he would know."--

"O fear not the priest who fleepeth to the east, "For to Dryburgh † the way he has taʼen;

* The black-rood of Melrose was a crucifix of black marble, and of fuperior fanctity.

+ Dryburgh Abbey is beautifully fituated on the banks of the Tweed. After its diffolution it became the property of the Haliburtons of Newmains, and is now the feat of the Right Honourable the Earl of Buchan.

"And