Page:The Professor (1857 Volume 2).djvu/159

 From Bewley's bog, with slaughter red, A wanderer hither drew; And oft he stopped and turned his head. As by fits the night-winds blew. For trampling round by Cheviot-edge, Were heard the troopers keen; And frequent from the Whitelaw ridge The death-shot flashed between." &c., &c.

The old Scotch ballad was partly recited, then dropt; a pause ensued; then another strain followed, in French, of which the purport, translated, ran as follows:—

I gave, at first, attention close; Then interest warm ensued; From interest as improvement rose, Succeeded gratitude. Obedience was no effort soon, And labour was no pain; If tired, a word, a glance alone Would give me strength again.