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gallantry. 'Metrical Legends,' the next work by Joanna Baillie, appeared in 1821. The poems were suggested by her visit to Scotland in the previous year. The patriot Wallace is the principal personage in one poem, and Lady Griselda Baillie in another. There were also included some dramatic ballads cast in the ancient mould. 'Poetic Miscellanies,' published in 1823, contained poems by Sir Walter Scott, Miss Catherine Fanshawe, Mrs. Hemans, and others. This collection of poems, which was made with a charitable object, had a very satisfactory pecuniary result. A deep affliction overtook the sisters Baillie in 1823 by the death of their brother, Dr. Matthew Baillie, who was tended by Joanna during his last illness with the utmost solicitude. The drama of the Martyr,' by Joanna Baillie, was published in 1826, though it had been written some time before. The play relates to the martyrdom of Cordenius Maro, an officer of the imperial guard of Nero, who had been converted to the christian faith. Miss Baillie accepted the unitarian view of Christ; and in her seventieth year put forward a publication on this question, entitled 'A view of the general Tenor of the New Testament regarding the Nature and Dignity of Jesus Christ.' In this work she clearly expressed her assent to the views held by Milton and others.

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In 1836 Miss Baillie published three volumes of Miscellaneous Plays,' which, at the time of their composition, she had intended for posthumous publication. Three of these dramas were in continuation of the Plays on the Passions,' and completed the series. They consisted of a tragedy and a comedy illustrating the passion of jealousy, and a tragedy on the subject of remorse. An interesting circumstance is connected with two of the dramas. It appears that Sir Alexander Johnston, chief justice of Ceylon, being desirous of raising the minds of the inhabitants of that island, and of eradicating their vices by writings directed to that end, turned to the drama as being specially adapted to the purpose. Miss Baillie's Martyr' he had already seen and welcomed as an auxiliary, and, in response to his desire for a second drama of the same nature, the author wrote the Bride.' Both dramas were translated into the Cingalese language. In the second play the writer endeavoured to set forth the christian principle of the forgiveness of injuries. Of the miscellaneous dramas, two were brought out simultaneously at Covent Garden and Drury Lane respectively; the younger Kemble appearing in the Separation' at the former house, and Vandenhoff in the tragedy of 'Henriquez' at the latter. They had but a partial success, and it would have been strange had the result been otherwise, considering the writer's adhesion to her former principles of construction and her lack of knowledge of stage requirements.

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Miss Baillie continued to write after she had reached a very advanced age, some of the poems in her new collection of Fugitive Verses' having been produced when she was verging upon fourscore years. As the end of life approached she was prepared to meet it. On Saturday, the day preceding that of her death, which occurred February 23rd, 1851, Joanna expressed a strong desire to be released from life. She retired to bed as usual, complained of some uneasiness, and sank till the following afternoon, when, without suffering, in the full possession of her faculties, with sorrowing relations around her, in the act of devotion, she expired' (Prefatory Memoir to Collected Works). Joanna Baillie was under the middle size; but not diminutive, and her form was slender. Her countenance indicated high talent,

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worth, and decision. Her life was characterised by the purest morality.' The prominent features of her character, which impressed all with whom she came in contact, were her consummate integrity, her moral courage, her freedom from affectation, and a never-failing charity in all things.

The Maid of Llanwellyn.

I've no sheep on the mountain, nor boat on the lake,

Nor coin in my coffer to keep me awake,

Nor corn in my garner, nor fruit on my tree-
Yet the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

Soft tapping, at eve, to her window I came,

And loud bay'd the watch-dog, loud scolded the dame;
For shame, silly Lightfoot; what is it to thee,

Though the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me?

Rich Owen will tell you, with eyes full of scorn,
Threadbare is my coat, and my hosen are torn:
Scoff on, my rich Owen, for faint is thy glee
When the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

The farmer rides proudly to market or fair,

The clerk, at the alehouse, still claims the great chair;
But of all our proud fellows the proudest I'll be,
While the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

For blithe as the urchin at holiday play,

And meek as the matron in mantle of gray,

And trim as the lady of gentle degree,

Is the maid of Llanwellyn who smiles upon me.

Good Light! Good Light!

THE sun is sunk, the day is done,
E'en stars are setting one by one;
Nor torch nor taper longer may
Eke out the pleasures of the day;
And since, in social glee's despite,
It needs must be, Good night, good night!

The bride into her bower is sent
And ribbald rhyme and jesting spent ;
The lover's whisper'd words and few
Have bade the bashful maid adieu;
The dancing-floor is silent quite-

No foot bounds there, Good night, good night!

The lady in her curtain'd bed,

The herdsman in his wattled shed.
The clansman in the heather'd hall,
Sweet sleep be with you, one and all!
We part in hope of days as bright

As this now gone-Good night, good night!

Sweet sleep be with us one and all!
And if upon its stillness fall

The visions of a busy brain,

We'll have our pleasures o'er again;

To warm the heart, to charm the sight,

Gay dreams to all! Good night, good night!

Though richer Swains thy Love

persue.

THOUGH richer swains thy love persue,
In Sunday gear and bonnets new ;
And every fair before thee lay
Their silken gifts, with colours gay-
They love thee not, alas! so well
As one who sighs, and dare not tell;
Who haunts thy dwelling night and noon,
In tatter'd hose and clouted shoon.

I grieve not for my wayward lot,
My empty folds, my roofless cot;
Nor hateful pity, proudly shown,
Nor alter'd looks, nor friendship flown ;
Nor yet my dog, with lanken sides,
Who by his master still abides;
But how wilt thou prefer my boon,
In tatter'd hose and clouted shoon?

ARCHDEACON JOHN BARBOUR.

1316-1395.

BY ROBERT CHAMBERS, LL.D.

AUTHOR OF "TRADITIONS OF EDINBURGH," "POPULAR RHYMES OF SCOTLAND," "DICTIONARY OF EMINENT SCOTSMEN," CYCLOPEDIA OF ENGLISH LITERATURE," "LIFE OF ROBERT BURNS," ETC., ETC., ETC.

CONTEMPORARY with Chaucer and Gower was the northern minstrel, JOHN BARBOUR. The date of his birth is unknown, but he is found exercising the duties of Archdeacon of Aberdeen in 1357. That he was a man of talent and learning may be assumed from his having been chosen by the Bishop of Aberdeen to act as his commissioner at Edinburgh when the ransom of David II. was debated; and also from the circumstance that he twice visited England with scholars, for the purpose of studying at Oxford (1357 and 1364); that in 1365 he obtained a passport to 'travel through England with six companions on horseback towards St. Denis and other sacred places;' and that in 1368 he again received permission to travel through England with two servants. At home, Barbour enjoyed royal favour. In 1373, he was clerk of audit of the household of King Robert II. and one of the auditors of exchequer. In 1375, his epic poem, The Bruce, was in progress. In 1377, a sum of ten pounds was paid to Barbour by the king's command, as the first reward, it would seem, for the composition of the poem. This gift was followed, at the interval of a few months, by a grant to Barbour from the king of a perpetual annuity of twenty shillings. Barbour wrote another poem, now lost, called The Brut, relating the descent and history of the Stuarts from the fabulous King Brut, or Brutus. His reward for this second work seems to have been a pension for life of ten pounds a year. The pension was payable in two moities-one at Whitsunday, the other at Martinmas. The last payment which Barbour received was at Martinmas 1394-so that he must have died between that date and Whitsunday 1395. The precise day of his death was probably the 13th of March, on which day Barbour's anniversary continued to be celebrated in the cathedral church of St. Machar, at Aberdeen, until the Reformation-the expense of the service being defrayed from the perpetual annuity granted to the father of Scottish poetry by the first of the Stuart kings, in 1378, pro compilacione Libri de Gestis illustrissimi principis quondam Domini Regis Roberti de Brus,' Barbour's poem of The Bruce is valuable as a monument of our early language, and as a storehouse of historical incidents. But though he set himself to write a soothfast story,' the poet begins by departing widely from history. He confounds Bruce the grandfather with Bruce the grandson, and makes him reject the crown said to have been offered to him by Edward I.! Of course, he also conceals the fact that the grandson had sworn fealty to Edward, and done homage to Baliol. He desired to present in Bruce a true hero and patriot tramping down oppression and vindicating the sacred rights of his country, and all that could militate

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against this design was excluded. Almost all the personal traits and adventures of Bruce-whatever gives individuality, life, and colour to his history— will be found in the pages of Barbour. The old poet's narrative of the wanderings, trials, sufferings, and fortitude of the monarch; the homely touches of tenderness and domestic feeling interspersed, as well as the knightly courtesy and royal, intrepid bearing, which he paints in lively colours, have tended greatly to endear and perpetuate the name of the Scottish sovereign. The character and exploits of Bruce's brave associates, Randolph and Douglas are also finely drawn; and the poem contains many vividly descriptive passages, and abounds in dignified and pathetic sentiment. Humour it has none. The language is fully as intelligible as that of Chaucer. It does not appear that the Scottish poet had seen the works of his southern contemporary. One would have wished that the bards had met, each the representative of his country's literature, and each enjoying the favour and bounty of his sovereign. Barbour's poem, we may add, is in the octo-syllabic verse, and consists of about 14,000 lines. It has been well edited by Dr. Jamieson (1820), and by Professor Cosmo Innes (1856).

Barbour makes no mention of Wallace. So ardent a worshipper of freedom might have been expected to strike a note in honour of one who sacrificed life itself in pure devotion to that cause. But to recall Wallace would have jarred with his unqualified eulogy of Bruce, and was not necessary towards the unity of his design. His poem begins with the story of the Bruce, and ends with the burial of his heart at Melrose.

Apostrophe to Freedom.

A! FREDOME is a nobill thing!
Fredome mayse man to haiff liking!
Fredome all solace to man giffis :
He levys at ese that frely levys!
A noble hart may haiff nane ese,
Na ellys nocht that may him plese,
Gyff fredome failythe: for fre liking
Is yearnyt our all othir thing
Na he, that ay hase levyt fre,
May nocht knaw weill the propyrte,1
The angyr, na the wrechyt dome,
That is cowplyt to foule thyrldome.2
Bot gyff he had assayit it,
Than all perquer3 he suld it wyt ;
And suld think fredome mar to pryse
Than all the gold in warld that is.

1 Quality or Nature.

3 Exactly (Fr. par cœur, by heart).

2 Thraldom.

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