the Mountain Spirit replies, that, amid the clouds and mist which veil the stars,-- "Ill may I read their high decree: But no kind influence deign they shower On Teviot's tide and Branksome's tower, Till _pride be quelled_, and _love be free_." I must here transcribe the following Section xviii.: "The unearthly voices ceased, And the heavy sound was still; It died on the river's breast, It died on the side of the hill. But round Lord David's tower, The sound still floated near, For it rung in the Ladye's bower, And it rung in the Ladye's ear, She raised her stately head, And her heart throbbed high with pride: 'Your mountains shall bend, And your streams ascend, Ere Margaret be our foeman's bride!'" In pursuance of this stern resolution, "the Ladye sought the lofty hall" where her retainers were assembled: "And from amid the armed train She called to her William of Deloraine." She then gives him the commission, well remembered by every reader, to proceed on that night to Melrose Abbey to unclose the grave of Michael {365} Scott, and to rifle it of the magical volume which was accessible only on St. Michael's night, at the precise moment when the rays of the moon should throw the reflexion of the red cross emblazoned in the eastern oriel upon the wizard's monumental stone,--expecting that the possession of this "Book of Might" would enable her to direct the destiny of her daughter according to the dictates of her own imperious nature. "Dis aliter visum." Fate and MICHAEL SCOTT had willed it otherwise. And here I must beg my readers to take notice that this far-famed wizard, Michael Scott, although dead and buried, is supposed still to exert his influence from the world of spirits as the guardian genius of the house of Buccleuch; and he had been beforehand with the Ladye of Branksome in providing Henry of Cranstoun with one of his familiar spirits, in the shape of the Goblin Page, _by whose agency alone_ (however unconscious the subordinate agent may be) a chain of events is linked together which results in the union of the two lovers. After this parenthesis I resume the thread of the narrative. Deloraine rides to Melrose in the night, presents himself to the Monk of St. Mary's aisle, opens the sepulchre of the wizard, and presumes to take "From the cold hand the Mighty Book," in spite of the _ominous frown_ which darkened the countenance of the dead. He remounts his steed and wends his way homeward "As the dawn of day Began to brighten Cheviot gray;" while the aged monk, having performed the last duty allotted to him in his earthly pilgrimage, retired to his cell and breathed his last in prayer and penitence before the cross.