The minstrels were not, indeed, in those days at least, a very elevated race of beings; their poetical powers, if they ever in this country possessed any, had entirely merged in the musical; and, though they occasionally did sing to their own instruments, or to those of others, the verses were generally either old ballads, or pieces of poetry composed by persons of a higher education than themselves. Nearly opposite the old dwelling of the kings of Scotland, Woodville's ear caught the tones of a very sweet voice singing; and, approaching the group of people that had gathered round, he saw an old man playing on an instrument somewhat like, but greatly inferior to a modern guitar, while a girl by his side, with fine features, and apparently--for the light was faint--a beautiful complexion, dressed in somewhat strange costume, was pouring forth her lay to the delighted ears of youths and maidens. She had nearly finished the song, when the young gentleman approached; and, in a moment or two after, she went round with a cap in her hand, asking the donations of the listeners. Woodville had been pleased, and he threw in some small silver coin, more than equal to all that the rest had given; and, resuming her place by the old man's side, she whispered a word in his ear, upon which he immediately struck his instrument again, and she began another ditty in honour, it would appear, of her generous auditor:-- SONG. The bark is at the shore, The wind is in the sail, Fear not the tempest's roar, There's fortune in the gale; For the true heart and kind, Its recompence shall find, Shall win praise, And golden days, And live in many a tale. Oh, go'st thou far or nigh, To Palestine or France, For thee soft hearts shall sigh, And glory wreath thy lance; For the true heart and kind, Its recompence shall find, Shall win praise, And golden days, And five in many a tale. The courtly hall or field, Still luck shall thee afford; Thy heart shall be thy shield, And love shall edge thy sword; For the true heart and kind, Its recompence shall find Shall win praise, And golden days, And live in many a tale. The lark shall sing on high. Whatever shores thou rov'st; The nightingale shall try, To call up her thou lov'st; For the true heart and kind, Its recompence shall find, Shall win praise, And golden days, And live in many a tale.