Solemn and grave, “Monkbarns” approached, amidst that burial line;
  And “Ochiltree” leant o’er his staff, and mourn’d for “Auld lang syne!”
  Slow march’d the gallant “McIntyre,” whilst “Lovel” mused alone;
  For once, “Miss Wardour’s” image left that bosom’s faithful throne!

  With coronach, and arms reversed, forth came “MacGregor’s” clan—­
  Red “Dougal’s” cry peal’d shrill and wild—­“Rob Roy’s” bold brow
          look’d wan;
  The fair “Diana” kissed her cross, and bless’d its sainted ray;
  And “Wae is me!” the “Bailie” sighed, “that I should see this day!”

  Next rode in melancholy guise, with sombre vest and scarf,
  Sir Edward, Laird of Ellieslaw, the far-renowned “Black Dwarf;”
  Upon his left, in bonnet blue, and white locks flowing free—­
  The pious sculptor of the grave—­stood “Old Mortality!”

  “Balfour of Burley,” of “Claverhouse,” the “Lord of Evandale,”
  And stately “Lady Margaret,” whose woe might naught avail! 
  Fierce “Bothwell” on his charger black, as from the conflict won;
  And pale “Habakuk Mucklewrath,” who cried, “God’s will be done!”

  And like a rose, a young white rose, that blooms mid wildest scenes,
  Passed she,—­the modest, eloquent, and virtuous “Jeanie Deans;”
  And “Dumbedikes,” that silent laird, with love too deep to smile,
  And “Effie,” with her noble friend, the good “Duke of Argyle.”

  With lofty brow, and bearing high, dark “Ravenswood” advanced,
  Who on the false “Lord Keeper’s” mien with eye indignant glanced;
  Whilst graceful as a lonely fawn, ’neath covert close and sure,
  Approached the beauty of all hearts—­the “Bride of Lammermoor!”

  Then “Annot Lyle,” the fairy queen of light and song, stepped near,
  The “Knight of Ardenvohr,” and he, the gifted Hieland Seer: 
  “Dalgetty,” “Duncan,” “Lord Monteith,” and “Ranald,” met my view—­
  The hapless “Children of the Mist,” and bold “Mhich-Connel-Dhu!”

  On swept “Bois Guilbert”—­“Front de Boeuf”—­“De Bracy’s” plume of woe;
  And “Coeur de Lion’s” crest shone near the valiant “Ivanhoe;”
  While soft as glides a summer cloud “Rowena” closer drew,
  With beautiful “Rebecca”—­peerless daughter of the Jew!

  Still onward like the gathering night advanced that funeral train—­
  Like billows when the tempest sweeps across the shadowy main;
  Where’er the eager gaze might reach, in noble ranks were seen,
  Dark plume, and glittering mail and crest, and woman’s beauteous mien!

  A sound thrilled through that lengthening host! methought the vault
          was closed,
  Where in his glory and renown fair Scotia’s bard reposed!—­
  A sound thrilled through that length’ning host! and forth my vision fled! 
  But, ah! that mournful dream proved true,—­the immortal Scott was dead!

Literary Gazette.