alive her house's fame.
And then the screeching bird of night
Would mope upon the crumbling walls,
And chirking whutthroats claim the right
To gambol in the ancient halls.

In yonder vault, deep down below,
Half choked with hoary eglantine,
Sleep side by side in lengthened row
The proud Roseallan's noble line.
The hairy wing-mouse flutters there,
The owl mopes as in days of yore,
Strange eldritch sounds salute the ear,
Unholy things crawl on the floor.

How oft alone at midnight hour
I stand within that silent tomb,
What time the moon with waning power
Is struggling through increasing gloom,
On one sole bier _his_ tears would fall,
For _her_ his groans come evermore,
Whose silver voice once filled the hall,
Whose feet once lightly tript the floor.

XIX.

THE BALLAD OF THE TOURNAY.

In the castle of Kildrennie,
Up in her chamber high,
There sat the fair Burde Annie,
And with her County Guy--
Come lately from the east,
As far as Palestine,
Where he had sent to his long rest
Many a bold Saracen.

Sir Guy his burning love hath told,
And a favour he hath won,
For lo! a ring of virgin gold
Shines there his finger on.
And they have pledged the solemn yea,
Each on the bended knee,
That on the coming Beltane day
They two shall wedded be.

Burde Annie viewed, to hide her tears,
The red sun setting still,
And lo! behold two cavaliers
Came riding up the hill:
The one he was Sir Hudibras
Come of a noble clan;
The other no less noble was--
The brave Sir Gallachan.

The first bore on his shield outspread
Two bones in cross moline,
And for his crest ane bluidy head,
Erased from Saracen.
The other carried, nobler far,
All in a field of gold,
A flaming bolt of Jupiter,
For crest ane tiger bold.

And up they rode, and up they rode,
Till they came to the lawn
Which spread before the castle broad,
And there they made a stand;
And there they spied Burde Annie
Up in her chamber high,
But for the breadth of her bodie
They could not see Sir Guy.

Burde Annie waved her lily hand,
And threw a kiss a-down--
For Hudibras or Gallachan
Was meant the priceless boon?
For sure it was a priceless boon,
When neither could espy
That when she threw that kiss a-down
She winkit to Sir Guy.

"That kiss divine, I trow, is mine,"
Cried doughty Hudibras;
"I am the man," cried Gallachan,
"And sure thou art ane ass."
Such words to hear we