which must come, will come; and we shall stride gallantly over many a field of victory, ere we reach yon fatal slaughter-place, or tread yon sable scaffolds." "What slaughter-place? what scaffolds?" exclaimed several voices; for Allan's renown as a seer was generally established in the Highlands. "You will know that but too soon," answered Allan. "Speak to me no more, I am weary of your questions." He then pressed his hand against his brow, rested his elbow upon his knee, and sunk into a deep reverie. "Send for Annot Lyle and the harp," said Angus, in a whisper, to his servant, "and let those gentlemen follow me who do not fear a Highland breakfast." All accompanied their hospitable landlord, excepting only Lord Menteith, who lingered in one of the deep embrasures formed by the windows of the hall. Annot Lyle shortly after glided into the room, not ill described by Lord Menteith as being the lightest and most fairy figure that ever trod the turf by moonlight. Her stature, considerably less than the ordinary size of women, gave her the appearance of extreme youth, insomuch, that although she was near eighteen, she might have passed for four years younger. Her figure, hands, and feet were formed upon a model of exquisite symmetry with the size and lightness of her person, so that Titania herself could scarce have found a more fitting representative. Her hair was a dark shade of the colour usually termed flaxen, whose clustering ringlets suited admirably with her fair complexion, and with the playful, yet simple, expression of her features. When we add to these charms, that Annot, in her orphan state, seemed the gayest and happiest of maidens, the reader must allow us to claim for her the interest of almost all who looked on her. In fact it was impossible to find a more universal favourite, and she often came among the rude inhabitants of the castle, as Allan himself, in a poetical mood, expressed it, " 'like a sunbeam on a sullen sea," communicating to all others the cheerfulness that filled her own mind. Annot, such as we have described her, smiled and blushed, when, on entering the apartment, Lord Menteith came from his place of retirement, and kindly wished her good-morning. "And good-morning to you, my lord," returned she, extending her hand to her friend, we have seldom seen you of late at the castle, and now I fear it is with no peaceful purpose." "At least, let me not interrupt your harmony, Annot," said Lord Menteith, "though my arrival may breed discord elsewhere. My cousin Allan needs the assistance of your voice and music." "My preserver," said Annot Lyle, has a right to my poor exertions; and you, too, my lord,-you, too, are my preserver, and were the most active to save a life that is worthless enough, unless it can benefit my protectors.' " So saying, she sate down at a little distance upon the bench on which Allan M'Aulay was placed, and tuning her clairshach, a small harp, about thirty inches in height, she accompanied it with her voice. The air was an ancient Gaelic melody, and the words which were supposed to be very old, were in the same language; but we subjoin a translation of them, by Secundus Macpherson, Esq., of Glenforgen, which, although submitted to the fetters of English rhythm, we trust will be found nearly as genuine as the version of Ossian by his celebrated namesake. THE RISING SUN. I. "Birds of omen, dark and foul, Haste to cave and ruin'd tower, There to wink and mope, for, hark! II. "Hie to moorish gills and rocks, And on distant echo borne, III. "The moon's wan crescent scarcely gleams, IV. "Wild thoughts, that sinful, dark, and deep, Thou darest not face the godlike sun." As the strain proceeded, Allan M'Aulay gradually gave signs of recovering his presence of mind, and attention to the objects around him. The deep-knit furrows of his brow relaxed and smoothed themselves; and the rest of his features, which had seemed contorted with internal agony, relapsed into a more natural state. When he raised his head and sat upright, his countenance, though still deeply melancholy, was divested of its wildness and ferocity; and in its composed state, although by no means handsome, the expression of his features was striking, manly, and even noble. His thick, brown eyebrows, which had hitherto been drawn close together, were now slightly separated, as in the natural state; and his grey eyes, which had rolled and flashed from under them with an unnatural and portentous gleam, now recovered a steady and determined expression. "Thank God!" he said, after sitting silent for about a minute, until the very last sounds of the harp had ceased to vibrate, 'my soul is no longer darkened-the mist hath passed from my spirit." "You owe thanks, Cousin Allan," said Lord Menteith, coming forward, "to Annot Lyle, as well as to Heaven, for this happy change in your melancholy mood." "My noble cousin Menteith," said Allan, rising and greeting him very respectfully, as well as kindly, "has known my unhappy circumstances so long, that his goodness will require no excuse for my being thus late in bidding him welcome to the castle." "We are too old acquaintances, Allan," said Lord Menteith, "and too good friends, to stand on the ceremonial of outward greeting; but half the Highlands will be here to-day, and you know, with our mountain Chiefs, ceremony must not be neglected. What will you give little Annot for making you fit company to meet Evan Dhu, and I know not how many bonnets and feathers?" "What will he give me?" said Annot, smiling; "nothing less, I hope, than the best ribbon at the Fair of Doune." "The Fair of Doune, Annot?" said Allan sadly; "there will be bloody work before that day, and I may never see it; but you have well reminded me of what I have long intended to do.' Having said this he left the room. "Should he talk long in this manner," said Lord Menteith, "you must keep your harp in tune, my dear Annot." " 'I hope not," said Annot, anxiously; "this fit has been a long one, and probably will not soon return. It is fearful to see a mind, naturally generous and affectionate, afflicted by this constitutional malady." As she spoke in a low and confidential tone, Lord Menteith naturally drew close, and stooped forward, that he might the better catch the sense of what she said. When Allan suddenly entered the apartment, they as naturally drew back from each other with a manner expressive of consciousness, as if surprised in a conversation which they wished to keep secret from him. This did not escape Allan's observation; he stopt short at the door of the apartment-his brows were contracted-his eyes rolled; but it was only the paroxysm of a moment. He passed his broad sinewy hand across his brow, as if to obliterate these signs of emotion, and advanced towards Annot, holding in his hand a very small box, made of oak-wood, curiously inlaid. "I take you to witness," he said, "cousin Menteith, that I give this box and its contents to Annot Lyle. It contains a few ornaments that belonged to my poor mother-of trifling value, you may guess, for the wife of a Highland laird has seldom a rich jewel-casket." "But these ornaments," said Annot Lyle, gently and timidly refusing the box, "belong to the family-I cannot accept "They belong to me alone, Annot," said Allan, interrupting her; 'they were my mother's dying bequest. They are all I can call my own, except my plaid and my aymore. Take them, therefore-they are to me value |