The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

814 WAVERL EY NOVELS.
ought, perhaps, to be ascribed as much to the character of the times as to
that of individuals. The naked facts of the case (unaided by the wild and
plaintive notes in which the maidens of the isle were wont to bewail "the*
heart-rending death of fair-haired JWilliam") are sufficient of themselves to
awaken the sympathy of every generous mind; and it were a more worthy
exercise of that despotic power over the imagination, so eminently possessed
by the Great Unknown, to embalm the remembrance of two such men in
his immortal pages, than to load their memories with crimes, such as no
human being ever committed.
I am enabled to add the translation of the lament over the fair-haired
William Christian. It is originally composed in the Manx language, and
consists of a series of imprecations of evil upon the enemies of Christian,
and prophecies to the same purpose:ON THE DEATH AND MURDER OF RECEIVER-GENERAL WILLIAM CHRISTIAN, OF
RONALDSWAY, WHO WAS SHOT NEAR.IANGO HILL, JANUARY 2, 1662.
1. 10.
In so shifting a scene, who would confidence place Ballaclogh and the Crigeans mark stronmly their sin,
In familu power, youth, or in personal grace? Not a soul of the name's there to welcome you in,
No character's proof nsiinrst enmity foul; In the power of the strangers is centred the whole
And thy fate, William Dhone, sickens our soul. And thy fate, &c.
2. 11.
You are Derby's receiver of patriot zeal, The opulent Scarlett on which the sea flows,
RIeplete with good sense, and reputed genteel, Is piecemeal disposed of to) whom the Lord knows;
Your justice applauded by the young and the old; It is here without bread or defence from the cold;
And thy fate, &c. And thy fate, &c.
3. 12.
A kind, able patron both to church and to state- They assert then in vain that the law soueht thy blood,
What roused their resentment but talents so great? For all aiding the massacre never did good;
No character's proof against enmity loul; Like the rooted-up golding deprived of its gold,
And thy fate, &c. They languish'd, were blasted, grew wither'd and old.
4. 13.
T'hy pardon,'tis rumour'd, came over the main, When the shoots of a tree so corrupted remain,
Nor late, but conceal'd by a villain t in grain; Like the briar or thistle they goad us with pain;'Twas fear forced the jury to a sentence so foul; Deep, darl, undermininig, they mimic the mole;
And thy fate, &c. And thy fate, &c.
5. 14.
Triumphant stood Colcott, he wish'd for no more, Round the infamous wretches who spilt C'esar's blood,
When the prilde of the Chsristians-lay welt'ring in gore, Dead spectres and conscience in sad array stood,
To malice a victim, though steady and bold; Not a man of the gang reaclh'd lil's utmost goal
Alnd thy fate, &c. And thy fate, &c.
6. 15.
With adultery staiin'd, and polluted with gore, Perdition, too, seized themn who caused thee to bleed,
le Ronaldsway eyed, as Lo:ghuecolly before, To decay fell their houses, their ]nclds andl their seed
[l'was tile land sought the culprit, as Ahab before; Disappear'd like the vapour when nlorn's tinged with
And thy fate, &c. And thy fate, &c. [gold;
7. 16.
Proceed to the oine fmined abode of the Nuns, From grief all colrrodling, to hope I'll repair, [chair,
Call the Colcotts aloud, till you torture your lungs, T'hat a branch of the Cisristiarns will soon grace the
Their short triumph's ended, extinct is tile wihole; With royal instructions his foes to console;
And thy fate, &c. And thy fate, &c.
8. 17.
For years could Robert lay crippled in bed, With a book for my pillow, I dreamt as I lay, [way;
Nor knew the world peace while he held up his head, That a branch of the Christians would hold RonaldsThe neighborhood's scourge in iniquity bold; His conquests his topic with friends o'er a bowl,
And thy fate, &c. Arid thy fate, &c.
9. 18.
Not one's heard to grieve, seek the country all through, And now for a wish in conaluding my song,- [wrong;
Nor lament for the namne that Bemacan once knew; lMay the Almighty withhoil men from doing what's
The poor rather load it with curses untold; Protect every omortal from enmity foul,
And thy fate, &c. For thy fate, Willianim Dhone, sickens our soul!:
~ The literal translation given to me by a young lady.
i A person named in the next stanza is said to have intercepted a pardon sent fiomn England for William
Christian, found, it is alleged, in the firsoot of an old woman's stocking. The tradition is highly improbable.
If Christian had been executed against the tenor of a pardon actually granted, it would not have failed to be
charged as a high aggravation in the subsequent proceedings of the Privy Council.
It may be recollected, t!at these verses are given through the medium of a meagre translation, and are
deprived of the raid of the music, otherwise we would certainly think the memory of William Dhone hlttls
honoured by his native bard.