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*** Ta Duinhé-wassal might please himsell; tá áuld rudas loon had never done Callum nae ill. But here's a bit line' frae ta Cean Kinné, tat he bade me gae your honour ere I came back.” :- The letter from the Chiefcontained Flora's lines on the fate of Captain Wogan, whose enterprizing character is so well drawn by Clarendon. He had originally engaged-in the service of the Parliament, but had abjured that party upon the execution of Charles I. and upon hearing that the royal standard was set up by the Earl of Glencairn and General Middleton, in the Highlands of Scotland, took leave of Charles II. who was then at Paris, passed into England, assembled a body of cavaliers in the neighbourhood of London, traversed the kingdom, which had been so long under domination of the usurper, by marches constructed with such skill, dexterity, and spirit, that he safely united his handful of horsemen with the body of Highlanders then in arms. After several

months of desultory warfare, in which Wogan's skill and courage gained him the highest reputation, he had the misfortune to be wounded in a dangerous manner, and no surgical assistance being within reach, he terminated his short but glorious career.

There were obvious reasons why the politic Chieftain was desirous to place the example of this young hero. under the eye of Waverley, with whose romantic disposition it coincided so peculiarly. But his letter turned chiefly upon some trifting commissions which Waverley had promised to execute for him in England, and it was only toward the conclusion that Edward found these words :-" I owe Flora a grudge for refusing us her company yesterday ; and as I am giving you the trouble of reading these lines, in order to keep in your memory your promise to procure me the fishing-tackle and cross-bow from London, I will inclose her verses on the Grave of Wogan. This I know will

teaze her; for, to tell you the truth, I think her more in love with the memory of that dead hero, than she is likely to be with any living one, unless he shall tread a similar path. But English squires of our day keep their oak trees to shelter their deer parks, or repair their losses of an evening at White's, and neither invoke them to wreath their brows, or shelter graves. Let me hope for one brilliant exception in a dear friend, to whom I would gladly give a dearer title."

The verses were inscribed,

TO AN OAK TREE,

In the Church-Yard of , in the Highlands of

Scotland, said to mark the Grace of Captain Wogan, killed in 1649.

Emblem of England's ancient faith,

Full proudly may thy branches wave, .
Where loyalty lies low in death,

And valour fills a timeless grave.

And thou, brave tenant of the tomb!

Repine not if our clime deny, Above thine honour'd sod to bloom,

The flowerets of a milder sky.

These owe their birth to genial May;

Beneath a fiercer sun they pine, Before the winter storm decay“

And can their worth be type of thine ?

No! for, mid storms of Fate opposing,

Still higher swell'd thy dauntless heart, And, while Despair the scene was closing,

Commenced thy brief but brilliant part.

'Twas then thou sought'st on Albyn's hill,

(When England's sons the strife resign'd,) A rugged race resisting still, · And unsubdued though unrefined.

Thy death’s-hour heard no kindred wail,

No holy knell thy requiem rung; Thy mourners were the plaided Gael,

Thy dirge the clamorous pibroch sung.

Yet who, in Fortune's summer-shine is

To waste life's longest term away,
Would change that glorious dawn of thine,

Though darken'd ere its noontide day?

Be thine the Tree whose dauntless boughs

Brave summer's drought and winter's gloom! - Rome bound with oak her patriots' brows, .' 'And Albyn shadows Wogan's tombeii

Whatever might be the 'real merit of Flora Mac-Ivor's poetry, the enthusiasm which it intimated was well calculated to make a corresponding impression upon her lover. The lines were read-read againthen deposited in Waverley's bosom--then again drawn out, and read line by line, in a low and smothered voice, and with frequent pauses which prolonged the mental treat, as an Epicure protracts, by sipping slowly, the enjoyment of a delicious beverage. The entrance of Mrs Cruickshanks, with the sublunary articles of dinner and

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