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luge of foes. What is more, the ap line, a whisper reached his ear, that pearance of Pappenheim, which was he of whom he was in search was lynow no longer expected, reanimates ing dead on the field of battle. When the drooping courage of the imperial the truth of this report was confirmed infantry, and quickly does the Duke to him, his countenance brightened of Friedland take advantage of the fa- up, and the last fire sparkled in his vourable moment to form his line a- eyes. “Let the Duke of Friedland
The Swedish battalions, close- be told then," said he, “ that I am ly wedged together, amid a most tre- lying here without hope of life, but mendous fire, are again driven over that I die contented, since I know the ditches, and the guns, which they that the irreconcileable enemy of my had twice taken are a second time faith has fallen on the same day." wrenched from their hands. The With Pappenheim the fortune of whole yellow regiinent, the flower of the Imperialists departed from the the army, lay on the ground, and co- field. No sooner did the cavalry of vered it in the same order which they the left wing, that had been formerly had so undauntedly maintained when thrown into disorder, and which he alive. A similar fate befell a blue re- alone had rallied, miss their victorious giment, which Count Piccolomini leader, than they regarded all as lost, with the imperial cavalry, after the and in disgraceful despair took to most desperate conflict, bewed down. flight. A similar panic seized the Seven different times did this excel- right wing, a few regiments excepted, lent general repeat the attack ; seven which the gallantry of their colonels
, horses were shot under him, and six Götz, Terzky, Colloredo, and Piccomusket-balls entered his body. He did lomini, forced to maintain their ground. not, however, quit the field till the The Swedish infantry, with speedy retreat of the whole army carried him resolution, take advantage of this conalong with it. The Duke himself sternation of the enemy, To fill up was seen,
under shower of musket the breaches which death has made in and cannon-balls, coolly riding through the first line, the two lines form into his ranks, to be at hand with aid to one, which now ventures the last and the distressed, with applause to the decisive attack. For the third time brave, to the faint-hearted with a look the Swedes make their way over the of indignation. All around him his ditches, and for the third time the soldiers are falling, and his own cloak field-pieces behind them are taken. is pierced by a number of balls. But The sun is just about to go down, it is the will of heaven that, for this when the two armies rush against day, his breast be protected, for which each other. The combat becomes other weapons are already preparing. hotter at its close; the last force grapOn the bed of honour, where Gusta- ples with the last force ; dexterity and vus died, Wallenstein was not to rage do their utmost to recover, durbreathe out his polluted spirit. ing these precious minutes, the whole
Pappenheim, the Telamonian Ajax lost day: In vain; despair raises of the army, the most formidable sol- each of the hosts above itself; neither dier of the house of Austria and of the can conquer, neither will give way. Roman Catholic church, was not so Tactics exhaust their wonders on the fortunate. An ardent desire to meet one side, only to develope on the other the King himself in the battle, hur- masterpieces of art, never learned, ried the fearless hero into the blood- never practised before. At last the iest part of the field, where he thought darkness of the night puts an end to it most likely lie should find his noble the battle, to which the fury of the foe. Gustavus had also entertained a combatants wishes to put none. The wish to see this respected enemy face combat ceases, because they can no to face. These wishes were not gra- longer see the enemy. The two artified, however ; and death alone was mies separate by a tacit agreement, to bring these reconciled heroes toge- and, on hearing the gladdening trumther. Two musket-balls pierced Pap- pet, each disappears from the field, penheim's scar-covered breast, and declaring itself unconquered. with violence were those around him As the horses were not to be found, obliged to carry him out of the blcody the artillery of both armies remained tumult. While they were thus em- all night on the field, to be a prize ployed in carrying him behind the and a proof of victory to him who the
following day should carry it off; but at which he had been, as a colonel 2the Duke of Friedland, from the great long with Wallenstein, opened his haste he was in to take leave of Leip- glorious career. When dangerously zig and of all Saxony, forgot to re- wounded, he, by his irresistible coumove his part of it from the field of rage, and with a few troops, hewed battle. Not long after the termina- down a regiment of the enemy, and tion of the battle, Pappenheim's in- lay for some hours among the slain, fantry, six regiments strong, who had his horse above him, on the field of not been able to follow their general battle, until some of his men, when quickly enough, made their appear- engaged in plundering, discovered ance but the work was over. A few him. With a few troops he overcame hours earlier, this considerable rein- the rebels in Upper Austria in three forcement would probably have de- different engagements. In the battle cided the battle in favour of the Em- of Leipzig he, by his valour, retarded peror, and, even as it was, these regi- for a long time the defeat of Tilly, inents, by taking possession of the and rendered the arms of the Empefield of battle, might have saved the ror victorious on the Elbe and on the Duke's artillery, and captured that of Weser. The impetuous fire of his the Swedes. But there were no or- courage, which was not extinguished ders to direct their conduct, and, by the most imminent danger, and quite uncertain of the issue of the which scarcely yielded to impossibi-* battle, they took the road to Leipzig, lity itself, made him a most powerful where they hoped the main army instrument in the hand of a general, would be found.
but, at the same time, unfit to be the The Duke of Friedland had made general himself. The battle of Leiphis retreat to that town, and, without zig, if we inay believe Tilly, was lost artillery, without colours, and almost by his impetuous ardour. He, among without arms, the remains of his dis- others, dipped his hands in blood at persed troops followed him on the the destruction of Magdeburg. His day after the battle. The Duke of mind, which, in his youth, had been Weimar, it appears, allowed the Swed- formed by the best education, and was ish army, after the exertions of that afterwards adorned by travel, became bloody day, to take repose and re- rank and wild under arms. On his freshment between Lützen and Weis- forehead were seen two red streaks, senfels, near enough the field to have resembling swords, with which Nait in his power to frustrate any at- ture had marked him from his birth. tempt of the enemy to take posses- Even in later years these marks apsion of it. Of the two armies, there peared as soon as any passion put his lay above 9000 dead on the plain; blood in motion; and superstition the number of the wounded was much was easily persuaded that the future more considerable ; and among the vocation of the man had been inImperialists, in particular, there was printed on the forehead of the child. scarcely one who escaped without in- Such a servant had the best-founded jury. The wliole plain from Lützen pretensions to the gratitude of both to the Flossgraben was covered by the the Austrian lines; but a most howounded, the dying, and the dead. nourable proof of that gratitude he did Many of the highest nobility had fall- not live to see. A courier was already en on both sides; among others, the on the road to bring hiin the Golden Abbot of Fulda, who as a spectator Fleece, when death carried him off at had mixed in the battle, atoned for Leipzig. his curiosity and his ill-timed zeal by Although Te Deum was sung in all his death. History says nothing of the Austrian and Spanish dominions prisoners,-a further proof of the for the victory obtained, yet Wallenhighly exalted and exasperated state stein himself, by the haste with which of men's minds in both armies, when he quitted Leipzig, and soon after the quarter would neither be given nor whole of Saxony, no longer pretendreceived.
ing to winter-quarters in that counPappenheim died next day at Leip- try, publicly and loudly confessed his zig of his wounds,-an irreparable loss defeat. He made, indeed, a feeble at-, for the Imperial army, which that tempt to seize the honour of the vicdistinguished warrior had so often led tory, as it were on the wing. He to victory. At the battle of Prague, sent off next morning his Croats to
hover round the plain, but the sight An' the croun on her brow was the sunny of the Swedish army, drawn up in ore
rainbow, der of battle, scared away in a mo
Ower Stanebyres lin that glows. ment these flighty bands, and the The marmaid sat on the Carlio-stane, Duke of Weimar took, by the con
Sae sweetly as she sang, quest of the field, soon after which while through aiken wud'an” birken shax
The winsome echoes rang. followed the surrender of Leipzig, unquestionable possession of all the sweetly sings the mavis mild, rights of the conqueror.
An' the merl on the thorn;
Mare sweetly still the laverock sings, But a dear-bought victory, a me
Abune the ee o' morn. lancholy triumph it was ! It is now, The lintie's blithe on the gowden whin, when the rage of the combat is cooled,
An' the gowdspink on the spray ; that the Swedes feel the full magni- But blither far was the marmaid's sang, tude of the loss they have sustained, Aichan frae bank to brae. and the shout of joy dics away in a
My father is lord o' bonnie Clyde, silent gloomy despair. He who led them out to the battle has not return
And o' craigie Avon's shaws, ed. His body is lying on the field he An' my mither is lady o’ Nethan water,
An' wons in Craignethan ha's. has won, undistinguished from those And I clad mysell in the cramesie, of the meanest warriors under which
But-an' the silken pall ; it is buried. After searching a long And I was serv'd be seven maidens, time in vain, they at last discover the Whaneer I sat in hall. royal corpse not far from the large
“ The buck and doe, the hart and roe, stone, which for ages before had been
We huntit ower the lea, observed between the Flossgraben and An' the goss-hawks flew wi’ the mornin' Lützen, and which, from the heavy
dew, baisfortune of that day, now bears the
Whill the day had clos'd his ec. name of the Swedish Stone. Covered O fleetly ran the coalblack steeds, with blood and disfigured by wounds, Mare Alcetly the steeds o' snaw; so as hardly to be recognized, hideous. But the dappi'd grey on whilk I rade, ly mangled by the hoots of horses, and Had the heels afore them a'. entirely stript of dress and ornament by plundering hands, the body is “ We huntit the stag ower the Hawkshaw drawn from under heaps of the slain,
hills, conveyed to Weissenfels, and there while sare forridden my merry menyie,
And doun to the Carlin-stane, delivered, amid the loud lamentations of the troops, to the last embraces of The bulleran' waves o' bludie Clyde,
Left me my livan' lane. the disconsolate Queen. Revenge had Swash't by wi' rowt and rair, demanded the first tribute, and blood An' the mune rasc dim through the mist o' behoved to flow as an atonement to the lin, the monarch. Now love claims its Wi' cauld and ecrie glare. rights, and tears of affection are poured out for the man. The general af
“ Ower wud an’ wauld, the rowkis cauld, fiction swallows up every
Spread like a siller sea ;
While a fairy inch seem't the lauly's aik, suffering. Still stupified by the stunning blow, the leaders of the army Aula Cairnie castle ower the rowk,
Sae lancly still an' wee. stand around the bier in gloomy re Raise like a giant grim; verie, and no one ventures to imagine An' the wilcat yowi't through its dowie the full extent of the loss.
Sae gowstie, howch, and dim. THE MARHALDEN OF CLYDE. “ The houlet hou't through the riftit rock, The marmaid sat on the Carlin-stanc,
The tod yowl't on the hill ; A caiman her yellow hair,
Whan an eldritch whish souch't through Was never maid in braid Clydesdale
the lift, Was ever half sae fair.
And a' fell deadly still. She caim't it up, an’ she caim't it doun,
The trauchl't stag i' the wan waves lap, An' she caim't it to her knee;
But huliness or hune, An' slie snudit it roun' lier lialhits white,
While in mony a row, wi' jaup an' jov, An' curl't it ower her cebree.
They shimmert in the munc. An' the marmaid's goun was green as grass,
6 An' sare be focht, an' sare he swam, In the cauld wall-ce that grows;
Whill he wan to the Carlin-stane;
Whar he streek't himsell i’ the patients o' I say't to flee, but couldnac steer dead,
Frae the stanners wharon I stude; Wi' mony a waesome main.
Whan the stalwart gome strade ower the I spurr'd my steed to tak the flude,
spait My steed he waudna steer,
An' clasp'd me in the flude.
“ Wi' sweep an' sweel, in the black Gaun " I flang the renyie on his neck,
Weel, With a wiss that souldnae been,
We ploung't i’ the wanyoch wave ; An' lap i' the pule frae my saddle-scat,
An' hcld our way, 'neth rock an' brae, Owercome wi' spite an' teen.
Till we cam till an ugsome cave. The water hadnae wat my fit,
A grousome droich at the benner en' Nor yet my siller shune;
Sat on a bink o'stanc, Whill an inky clud fell doun on the wud,
And a dowie sheen frae his austrous een An' blotted out the mune.
Gae licht to the dismal wane. " I saw nac marc, for a' the air
“ The dead blue licht skim't alang the Grew black as black could be ;
black rufe, An' bonnie Clyde, with its hills an' howme, Whar draps hang raw on raw, Was tint afore mine ec.
An'twinkl’t in the damp broun air, l' the mirk in a stound, wi rairan' sound, Whan pinkan' they can fa.' A spait the river rase,
The watcr-asks, sae cauld and saft, An' wi' swash an' swow, the angry jow, Crawld ower the glittie flure, Cam lashan' doun the braes.
And a monstrous eel, wi' twist and twecl, * I luikit richt, I luikit left,
The gapan' entrance wure;
“ An' tak my bride, my bonnie bonnic But no ae spark o' licht.
To the dwerch the wicht can say,
" An' wash awa the changefu' lite An' shaw't the black waves coman' rowan
That lives in upper day; down,
And dip her first in the Norroway sea,
She's mine for evermare ; Abreast, abune my head.
And dip her sync in the lammer-wine, "I tirn't me richt, I tirn't me left,
Alike then sea and air;
“ And dip her last in Tinto dew Saw nocht but an ugsome how.
That fell on Beltan-day, A blent o' fire soup't athort the flude, Whan a thousand years are come an' gane And ower the Carlin-stane ;
She'll be my bonnie May. In a suddentie, on the firie-flaucht, Like clattie fins war the dwerch's twae The stately stag is gane.
He laid them on my head, "A stately stag~i' the spait he sank,
The licht forhou’t my wauland een,
My brow grew cauld as lead.
" A scikenan' grou cam ower my heart, A' was dead-lown, whan in a stoun',
I swarf't amang his hands, A whirwind fell frac the air,
An' fcelless lay, while the laidlie droich And hou't through the wuds, and cloven
Perform'd his lord's commands. craigs,
I swarf't in the mirk wi' dule and pine; Wi' weary waesome rair.
I cam to mysell i’ the licht; « The knarlie aiks of a hunder ycars
I swarf't in wae, a mortal may Cam doupan' to the grun',
Cam back a marmaid bricht. While the brainches an' bcuchs o' frusher
" I swarf't amid an ugsome den ;
Cam back in a palace rare ;
I swart't by a fien', whan I rase be my side
Stude a stalwart knicht an' fair. mirk,
And dinna fear my winsome dear, Nor was beard the thunder's rair,
Fear nacthing now ava ; But a leadlike low spread over the craigs
You're a marmaid fair, for evermair, Wi' dull and dowie glare.
Your mortal life's awa. “ The mirk cam in gliffs-in gliff's the mirk gade
" In luve an' lee-in game and glee. While I saw frae the craigs an' caves, We'll ring ower bonnic Clyde, Wi' mop an' mowr, an' glare an' glowr, I'll ay to thee a bridegrume bc, Grim faces girn ower the waves.
You ay to me a bride.
An we'll hauld our court 'mid the roaring ance clad in mist, with a grousome beard lins,
bristling about his mou', an' his twa een And daif in the lashan' tide.
shinan' with a dowie streamerlike licht. I big my halls o' the crystal clear,
Richtlie judging this to be kelpe, Aiken And the rufe o' the gowden mine; Kent bangit fell upon the puir fiend wi' his The stateliest courts o' the richest roys club in sic a fury, that he sune gartit him Are nocht compar'd to mine.
I'll never mare come here,
Ye may douk yoursell baith late an' sune, And in the swechan' lin.
An' o' Kelpie hae nae fear." We beck oursells on the faimie heaps,
Ever since the Gaun Weel, except that Whan simmer suns are breem,
it is dangerous to inexperienced bathers Whan the year grown auld brings winter from its depth and swirling, is as safe as cauld
any other pool in Clyde. We flee till our lia's sae qaeem.
Stanza 10th. It is well known that no
thing gave evil sprites so much power as “ A hunder knichts at my behecht,
imprecatory wishes upon one's self. See The waters maun obey,
some illustrations of this opinion in a for. An' twice twae hunder maries free
T. Sall serve my winsome may. There's no ae burn in braid Clydesdale But wimples at my will,
REMARKS ON MEMOIRS OF MR JORX Nor a scridden broun that but my leave
TOBIN, AUTHOR OF THE HONEYComes tumbling doun the hill.
MOON, WITH A SELECTION FROM " Whan comes the landlash wi' rair an' HIS UNPUBLISHED WRITINGS. swash,
Miss Benger is already advantaI cowd on the rowan' spait,
geously known to the public as the inAnd airt its way by bank an' brae
teresting and agreeable biographer of Fulfillan' my luve or hate.
Mrs Elizabeth Hamilton-a name of The thochtless wicht wha scorns our micht, I visit in that hour,
greater celebrity than the subject of the But the man I save frae the raging grave,
present volume. The life of Tobin, Wha fears the marmen's power !"
however, is far from being destitute
of interest ;-he has claims to the rank Notes.
of a British poet. His assiduous perCarlin-stane. This is a huge rock stand- severance in pursuit of the great obing in the middle of the river Clyde, about ject of his ainbition, in spite of rehalf a mile below the Stonebyres-lin. iterated defeats, distinguishes his chaSome romantic traditions concerning it will racter from the greater number of the be found in a former Magazine. It has genus irritabile; and the melancholy ever been a favourite haunt of mermen and circumstances of his premature death mermaids. The Gaun Weel is a deep cannot fail to awaken sympathy in whirlpool at a little distance from the Carlin-stane, concerning which many strange The selections from the poet's writ
every breast of common sensibility. stories are told. In former times it was the chosen horof of a most malevolent wa
ings, which, together with the Meter kelpie, who dragged many a youth to
moirs of his Life, fill this volume, the bottom when bathing, till at length a consist of an analysis of the Gypsey of sturdy peasant called Aiken Kent, from a Madrid, a Spanish drama, by Don huge oaken club which he always carried, Antonio de Solis; the fragment of a resolved to encounter this dreadtul fiend. Tragedy; the Indians, a play, in five He went one summer evening to the Clyde, acts; and two operas, the one of which tirlit aff his claes, as the country narrators is entitled Your's or Mine, and the express it, grippit his aiken kent another the Fisherman's Hut. But, beploungit into the Weel.
He swam round fore we inquire into the merits of and wound, dived to the bottom,, but the these productions, or into the manner kelpie, wha, it seems, was awar o'the cha. racier o' the douker, was nae whar to be in which the fair author has executed scen. Fatigued at' length, Aiken Kent her task, it will be expedient to subcam out o' the water, pat on himsell an' mit to the reader's consideration, from sat doun to rest, when he fell soun' asleep. the materials which she has given us, He was suddenly wakenit by something a short sketch of the poet's life. pu'-pu'an' at his kent, which he had laid aneth his head, an' liftan' his een saw By Miss Benger. London, Longman, through the gloamin' an austrous appear. &c. 1820.