th trout so much of a size that the
country people took them for herrings.

The grave of Piers Cockburn is still not desecrated: hard by it lies,
within a little wood; and beneath that slab of old sandstone, and the
graven letters, and the sword and shield, sleep 'Piers Cockburn and
Marjory his wife.' Not a hundred yards off was the castle door where
they hanged him; this is the tomb of the ballad, and the lady that
buried him rests now with her wild lord.

Oh, wat ye no my heart was sair,
When I happit the mouls on his yellow hair;
Oh, wat ye no my heart was wae,
When I turned about and went my way! (1)

Here too hearts have broken, and there is a sacredness in the shadow and
beneath these clustering berries of the rowan-trees. That sacredness,
that reverent memory of our old land, it is always and inextricably
blended with our memories, with our thoughts, with our love of you.
Scotchmen, methinks, who owe so much to you, owe you most for the
example you gave of the beauty of a life of honour, showing them what,
by Heaven's blessing, a Scotchman still might be.

(1) Lord Napier and Ettrick points out to me that, unluckily, the
tradition is erroneous. Piers was not executed at all. William Cockburn
suffered in Edinburgh. But the _Border Minstrelsy_ overrides history.

_Criminal Trials in Scotland_ by Robert Pitcairn, Esq. Vol. i. part I.
p. 144, A. D. 1530. 17 Jac. V.

May 16. William Cokburne of Henderland, convicted (in presence of the
King) of high treason committed by him in bringing Alexander Forestare
and his son, Englishmen, to the plundering of Archibald Somervile; and
for treasunably bringing certain Englishmen to the lands of Glenquhome;
and for common theft, common reset of theft, out-putting and in-putting
thereof. Sentence. For which causes and crimes he has forfeited his
life, lands, and goods, movable and immovable; which shall be escheated
to the King. Beheaded.

Words, empty and unavailing--for what words of ours can speak our
thoughts or interpret our affections! From you first, as we followed the
deer with King James, or rode with William of Deloraine on his midnight
errand, did we learn what Poetry means and ali the happiness that is in
the gift of song. This and more than may be told you gave us, that
are not forgetful, not ungrateful, though our praise be unequal to our
gratitude. _Fungor inani munere!_

XVI. To Eusebius of Caesarea.

(Concerning the Gods of the He