so bright, and the lady so fair, and the soldier so handsome, that when he talked of love Daphne was pleased to hear it, and long before lay light appeared, and in that very place they agreed, to marry in the morning. But covered, in which the youth of several noble families! 1 were implicated, and suffered capital punishments The bodies of three of the ringleaders, were hanging sat a short distance from the 2 sepulchre under the guardianship of a soldier. This punishment was con-now the soldier collected his duty, ¿sidered so disgraceful, that formerly, on a similar occasion, the friends of the Culprits, had during the night, aistolen the bodies and interred them privately. To prevent in future such gan occurrence, a law was passed that should a body be stolen, when placed ander the care of a soldier, that soldier y should immediately be hung in its bplace. * The Guardian of the dead, attracted by the light of the sepulchre, drew bgently towards it, and never had he zuséen loveliness so interesting. The - tears still flowed from the dark eyes of Daphne, and her deep sighs, and throbbing bosom, witnessed the intenbrity of her suffering. But the night - was cold, and after having gazed for a long time with rapture on a creature 3 so lovely and in tears, he at last yabethought himself of a bottle of wine and a portion of bread which he car20 ried along with him. His pity had cbeen long awakened, and the first ydraught of the wine, encouraged him stovask, if she would drink? Worn and not without anxiety returned: so REVIEW. BY SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. Ecce iterum Crispinus! The ink of the Fortunes of Nigel, is scarcely dry and lo! forth from the press, bearing the redoubted name of Sir W. Scott, comes, HALIDON HILL shioutysin body and mind, and melted Halidon Hill; a Dramatic Sketch-rwith such unexpected kindness, she Tot accepted his offer, and the light dancmoed again in her eyes, and her sighs here less frequent, and the soldier sudseeing all this continued to talk kindly xoto ber, and persuaded her to eat and -renton vorher mourning Daphne adthok the cordial, and looked kindly in Halidon Hill is a dramatic sketch, Vertheisoldier's face, while the music of very properly so called, for it is noen her voice was so fascinating, that the thing more; written in two acts, and nosoldier began to rejoice in the fair designed, as we are informed, to illustocreative thus restored to animation; trate military antiquities, and the man2nd the approached nearer, and beganners of chivalry. We are not the less bo talk: amorously, and the wine was pleased with this very spirited sketch because we think that the general character of the manners of chivalry are but little illustrated by it; nor does it seem to us a matter of import, whether it was or was not designed for the stage. The author, however, seems to anticipate the possibility of an attempt, on the part of the managers of our theatres, to produce it on the stage; and he declares that if this takes place, it shall be solely at the peril of those who make such an experiment. This disclaimer does not very well accord with the motto borne on the title-page: Knights, Squires, and Steeds shall enter on the stage. our pro The army of England, under King Ed ward, is descried, and the Scottish leaders, being summoned to meet the Regent, disagree about the array of battle. In the midst of their quarrel, intelligence arrives that the English army is within a mile of their position. Even then their madness continues, and they brawl about the lead of the van. Advised by Swinton, they retire to debate in the Regent's tent; but the knight is himself excluded, on account of the small number of his followers. Young Gordon, not knowing him, resolves to remain with him. On learning his name from Vipont, he is with difficulty restrained from rushing, sword in hand, on the man by whom his father fell. Maxwell issues from the Regent's tent, announcing that all is confusion and uproar within; and Gordon learns that Swinton is the only man in the host, who can put the Scottish army on an equality with the enemy. The Regent and Chiefs now come forth, and Douglas finds a remedy for their contention about the command of the van, in the senseless expedient of waiting the attack of the enemy, as the army stands on the hill, utterly exposed to the English arrow-shot. The madness of this resolve is shown by Swinton, who asks permission to lead a body of horse to attack the English bowmen, and implores the chiefs to lay side their feuds in this hour of need. Douglas denies this request, and calls for the youths who expect knighthood from his sword. When Gordon is named, he refuses to be knighted by any but Sir Alan Swinton. The Lords Lennox a and Maxwell, recommended the consiature and great deration of Swinton's counsel; but the Regent tauntingly replies, that he may attack the English bowmen, with his fair threescore horsemen. Gordon, however, declares his resolution to join him with all his followers. Gordon and Swinton are entirely reconciled, But we think that the managers of theatres will not undertake such costly peril, as might seriously alarm the maiden bashfulness of our apprehensive writer; for the only part of this drama, which seems calculated to duce much effect on the stage the scene in which the Abbot appears-is not very probable. We should make this assertion, even if it had actually occurred. But it seems that Lord Byron and Sir W. S., may write dramas and disclaim that responsibility which less popular writers are obliged to court; while they may reap the advantage of whatever success attends the experiment of the managers The following is a Programme of the -piece...... The scene opens with the arrival of Adam de Vipont, a Knight Templar, under the guidance of the Prior of Maison-Dieu, (after an absence of 12 years in the wars of Palestine) before Halidon Hill, which is occupied by the Regent Douglas. Sir Alan Swinton, knight of gigantic prowess, relates to Vipont the reduced number of his followers, and the loss of his four sons in a feud with the Gor dons, the vengeance taken for their deaths, and the increased power of the present youthful head of the Gordons. and in Hob Hattely, a notorious cattle reaver, Swinton finds a guide to a flank attack on the English. In Act II. while the English chiefs are impatiently waiting the sounding of the charge, the Abbot of Walthamstow enters, to demand certain tithes withheld from his house by Lord Chandos; and, on the entrance of the King, informs him that Chandos had termed his grace a rat-catcher. Chandos, in return, tells the King that the Abbot had declared it was sinful in the King's chaplain to have caught up a secular weapon, and so to have secured the life and liberty of Edward, when he was in great peril from Swinton in a night attack; and that the chaplain's soul is therefore in purgatory. The King questions the Abbot sharply, who is glad to compound with Chandos for his tithes, so he will take off the King. Chandos iminediately sees, in front of the army, that which induces Edward to command the attack to be made instantly. Great havoc is made by the English bowmen, when Swinton and Gordon are descried rushing forward from a thicket under the hill, and the King rushes out crying to the rescue Gordon rushing on them with Vipont, is made prisoner, and immediately after sinks down and dies. There is something grand in the devoted spirit in which Gordon follows Swinton, surrendering his hereditary hatred to the exigencies of his country, But the incident, as related, seems altogether beyond our nature. It were indeed a sublime spectacle, to behold. a young man performing the last pious offices, and closing, with a friendly hand, the dying eyes of him by whom his father fell: but that man is not the individual to whom he would in any situation, much less in the midst of carnage, discourse of the power possessed by his mistress to move the feelings by her skill in music. The clamor made by the Abbot for his tithes, in the front of two armies on the very point of engaging, is altogether improbable. And this incident is the more objectionable, not only as it involves none of those sublime sentiments which accompany the other, as proper to the sacrifice of deadly hatred; but as it borders on the ridiculous. We shall insert a few extracts for the gratification of our readers : when I parted hence for Palestine, Lords, to the rescue! ha, St. George, St. The brows of most were free from grizzled Edward. Swinton and Gordon are victorious over the English vanguard; and Gordon felates his love, and the accomplishments of the lady of whom he is enamoured. Vipont enters, and they learn that no aid is sent to them from the main army. Swinton would fain proide for the safety of Gordon by sendng him to the Regent; but he refuses to go, and they once more charge the enemy. They fall, desperately woundedthe English pass over them, and they see the light of their countrymen, Synton dies Edward enters atredded by the British leaders and Bahol, the pretender to the Scottish crown. hair. ali yet, in earnest, pray De. Vipont, you would join the Gordon, In this high Battle. Tis a noble youth, fame doth vouch him,—amorous, quick, and valiant ;... So His spurs too rashly in the wish to win them, And temper it with prudence:-'tis the Teaches his brood to gaze upon the sun, Why, be it so! I look for nothing else: If it should find my heart, can ne'er inflict While youthful modesty, and the embar rassment Of curiosity, combined with wonder, Into revenge's glow. How slow is Vipont! Deserts, that he may wreak a private wrong Look to the Regent he is Scotland's ge- He hath come here to brave me!-Off! Thou can'st not be my father's ancient friend VIPONT (to GORDON.) When the slow gunner, with his lighted Thou hast perused him at more leisure now. match, Approach'd the charged cannon, in the act Enter GORDON, withheld by VIPONT. GORDON. I see the giant form which all men speak of, To him that made me orphan. I shall need Yet my hand clenches on my falchion-bilt, When Gordon and Swinton are about to commence their attack on the English bows, the following scene takes place LENNOX Farewell, brave friend!—and farewell, Whose sun will be eclipsed even as it rises! SWINTON. We will so bear us, that as soon the bloodhound [comrade Shall halt, and take no part, what time his Bracebridge Hall; or the Humorists. LENNOX Alas! thou dost not know how mean his pride is, How strong his envy, SWINTON. [him. Then will we die, and leave the shame with [Erit LENNOX. VIPONT (to GORDON.) What ails thee, noble youth? What means this pause?- Thou dost not rue thy generosity? GORDON. I have been hurried on by a strong impulse, coast, SWINTON. Gordon, no; For while we live, I am a father to thee. SWINTON. Then change the phrase, and say, that Gordon, BY GEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT. No sooner has Mr. W. Irving made himself deservedly popular in Britain, and acquired that reputation which mixes much pleasure with our expectations of a new work from him, than he prepares to leave us; bearing with him, across the depths of the Atlantic, the good wishes of all who can be conciliated by an amiable disposition, or interested in the fate of genius. Were all American and British authors actuated by a spirit conciliatory as that which breathes in the writings of Mr. W. I., much acrimony and much violence would be spared; and many a prejudice would be softened, which we lament to see yet flourishing in rancorous vigor, and maturing the seeds of future bickerings and long-lived ani Thou, Swinton ?-no! that cannot, can-mosities. We are grieved to learn, from an authority so respectable as Mr. I., that though among all the liberal and enlightened minds of his countrymen— among all those which eventually give atone to national opinion-there exists a cordial desire to be on terms of courtesy and friendship there exists, unfortunately in those very minds, a distrust of reciprocal good-will on the part of England. Mr. I. intimates, indeed, pretty plainly, that there is danger of being suspected of regarding Great Britain with a partial eye: not, surely by those liberal and enlightened minds of whom he writes but in such terms as would induce us to despair of To smoulder on, and wait a time for waking. stem guish'd, Hoar oak, nor sapling-not to be extinTill Heaven, in mercy, sends down all her waters, ever; But, once subqued, its flame is quench'd for And Spring shall hide the track of devas tation, |