ll cliff and cavern lone
For the departed bard make moan;
That mountains weep in crystal rill;
That flowers in tears of balm distil;
Through his loved groves that breezes sigh,
And oaks, in deeper groan, reply;
And rivers teach their rushing wave
To murmur dirges round his grave."

"Melrose!" said the loud voice of the conductor; and starting, I looked
up and saw quite a flourishing village, in the midst of which rose the
old, gray, mouldering walls of the abbey. Now, this was somewhat of a
disappointment to me. I had been somehow expecting to find the building
standing alone in the middle of a great heath, far from all abodes of
men, and with no companions more hilarious than the owls. However, it
was no use complaining; the fact was, there was a village, and what was
more, a hotel, and to this hotel we were to go to get a guide for the
places we were to visit; for it was understood that we were to "_do_"
Melrose, Dryburgh, and Abbotsford, all in one day. There was no time for
sentiment; it was a business affair, that must be looked in the face
promptly, if we meant to get through. Ejaculations and quotations of
poetry could, of course, be thrown in, as William, of Deloraine pattered
his prayers, while riding.

We all alighted at a very comfortable hotel, and were ushered into as
snug a little parlor as one's heart could desire.

[Illustration: East Window of Melrose Abbey.]

The next thing was to hire a coachman to take us, in the rain,--for the
mist had now swelled into a rain,--through the whole appropriate round.
I stood by and heard names which I had never heard before, except in
song, brought into view in their commercial relations; so much for
Abbotsford; and so much for Dryburgh; and then, if we would like to
throw in Thomas the Rhymer's Tower, why, that would be something extra.

"Thomas the Rhymer?" said one of the party, not exactly posted up. "Was
he any thing remarkable? Well, is it worth while to go to his tower? It
will cost something extra, and take more time."

Weighed in such a sacrilegious balance, Thomas was found wanting, of
course: the idea of driving three or four miles farther to see an old
tower, supposed to have belonged to a man who is supposed to have
existed and to have been carried off by a supposititious Queen of the
Fairies into Elfland, was too absurd for reasonable people; in fact, I
made believe myself that I did not care much about it, particularly as
the landl