DRYBURGH ABBEY. — SIR WALTER SCOTT. 39 



Tlie poet's song anJ sanctifying dust 

 Here left, and living, stamp upon the soil 

 The seal of immortality ; though bust 

 Nor monument of man's elaborate toil, 

 Nor precious bronze, nor sculptured urn encrust 

 The haunted precincts: what no time can spoil 

 Nor man impair — traits of immortal mind — 

 Claim for that dust the homage of mankind. 



It is the perfect freedom from all the aUoys of genius that makes us turn 

 with such delight to Scott, whose mighty mind was unsullied by a single 

 example of envy, hatred, or jealousy. Placed on an eminence to which all 

 eyes were directed, even the Argus optics of envy could discover no blemish 

 in him. Unspoilt by praise, and unscathed by censure, his was indeed a 

 briUiant career, and the admiration accorded to the author seemed but to 

 increase the affection felt towards the man. . . . What a profound knowledge of 

 human nature did he evince, when, for years, he concealed that he was the 

 author of the Waverley Novels! The praise so justly — so universally bestoWed 

 on these admirable works, could not have failed to raise up a host of jealous 

 foes against an avowed author, however faultless his life, and however brilliant 

 his genius. But Scott fought for, and won the high guerdon of renown, like 

 the heroes of chivalry, vnth his visor down; and the victory was won before 

 the •victor was kno-\vn. . . . Scott had no need to look for consolation from post- 

 humous fame ; the whole of Europe were his admirers, and his admirers could 

 not fail to be his friends.* 



The following particulars, abridged fi-om an account of the funeral procession 

 from Abbotsford to Dryburgh, as recorded by an eye-witness, vnll be read 

 with melancholy interest by all admirers of the illustrious author. 



When all were in their places, the bearers moved slowly forward, preceded 

 by two mutes in long cloaks, carrying poles covered with crape ; and no sooner 

 had the coffin passed through the double Hne formed by the company, than 

 the whole broke up and followed in a thick press. There was a solemnity, 

 as well as a simplicity, in the whole of this spectacle, which we had never 

 witnessed on any former occasion. The long robed mutes — the body, with 

 its devotedly attached and deeply afflicted supporters and attendants — the 

 clergyman, whose presence indicated the christian belief and immortal hopes 

 of those assembled; and the throng of uncovered and reverential mourners, 

 stole along beneath the tall and umbrageous trees with a silence equal to that 



• " Tlie Two Friends," by the elegant and accomplished author of " Conversations with Lord Byron." 



