A conceit current from Caithness to Capo d'Istria. "Serenade," from the Romancero General of 1604, is certainly not peasant work. For his translation of this Lockhart deserves high praise. Its music is reminiscent of Shelley's "Skylark," though of course it lacks the almost intolerable keenness of that song most magical. All the stars are glowing In the gorgeous sky, In the stream scarce flowing Mimic lustres lie: Blow, gentle, gentle breeze, But bring no cloud to hide Their dear resplendencies; Nor chase from Zara's side Dreams bright and pure as these. It is inspired by a chaste and natural music all its own, beyond the conscious artistry of the material man. To do Lockhart justice, he loved the art of letters for itself alone. His was that natural modesty which is content to sing in the shadow; nor can one recall the memory of that fine and upright spirit, his labour and his sacrifice, without praise and gratitude gladly bestowed. In this poem I seem to see the real Lockhart--a man with the heart of a child. "Minguela's Chiding" tells of the woe of a rustic maid who loved to her destruction. "The Captive Knight and the Blackbird" is the prison plaint of a warrior who knows not how the seasons pass, or the moons wax and wane: Woe dwells with me in spite of thee, thou gladsome month of May; I cannot see what stars there be, I know not night from day. There was a bird whose voice I heard, oh, sweet my small bird sung, I heard its tune when night was gone, and up the morning sprung. Some cruel hand had slain the blackbird which was wont to delight the poor prisoner's heart. But the King heard his plaint while passing beneath his dungeon window, and set him free. We may pass over the rather sepulchral "Valladolid," which tells of the visit of a knight to the tomb of his lady-love in that city. "The Ill-Married Lady" recounts the grief of a dame whose husband is faithless to her, and who consoles herself with another cavalier. They are surprised by her lord, and she artlessly asks: "Must I, must I die to-day?" and requests to be buried in the orange garden. The romance does not tell us if her last wishes were complied with, or even if her life was forfeited, but to a Spanish public of the seventeenth century it was probably a supererogation even to allude to such a sequel. "Dragut" tells the story of a famous corsair whose ship was sunk by a vessel belonging to the Knights of Malta. Dragut saved himself by swimming ashore, but the Christian captives with whom his barque was laden were all drowned save one, to whom the Maltese threw a rope. It was a Spanish knight, who had long been in Algiers, From ladies high descended and noble cavaliers, But forced for a season a false Moor's slave to be, Upon the shore his gardener, and his galley-slave at sea. We have already recounted the tale of the Count Alarcos, and with it Lockhart's collection comes to an end.