The Last Attempt:

THE LAST ATTEMPT :

BEING THE FINAL EFFORT OF BUO . SIR WALTER SCOTT AT METRICAL COMPOSITION BY W . FRED . VERNON , R . W . M . NO . 58 , KELSO , S . O . SOME months ago there was placed in my hands , by Bro . J . B . Kerr , of the Commercial Bank at Kelso , some manuscript which had lately come into his possession , with a request that I would decipher it . The task was not a

very difficult one , although one or two words were almost illegible ; the characters were cramped , not careless ; in fact , the effort was only too apparent , and though sadly differing from many specimens I had seen from the same pen , but some peculiarities or characteristics I had noted in the writer ' s style under happier circumstances were distinctly recognisable . The manuscript I refer to was the last attempt of the hand that had filled thousands of folios with charming , clear , running , ready writing which had delighted millions of

readers , and shall yet deli ght many more . It was the last effort of the hand of the minstrel who had struck the lyre of his country with no uncertain sound , to once more make its chords vibrate to tuneful measure . It was , in fact , the last attempt of the mighty magician of the North , Bro . Sir Walter Scott , at metrical composition . The verses which follow were written by him when in Italy , in the spring of 1832 . They were written at the request of the " Countess of Wallingluss , a

Russian lady . " In that finest of biographies , written by the loving hand of his son-in-law , Lockhart does not mention this lad y by name , but there is an allusion to a lad y having requested him to do something to which he had a great repugnance , but to which request he , nevertheless , promised compliance . On being asked why he had promised to comply with her request , he gave the pathetic answer that as he was not good for much now he thought he should try and oblige everybody . The following is the result of the attempt : —

" Lady , they say thy native land , Unlike this clime of . fruits and flowers , Loves , like the minstrel's northern strand , The sterner share oE Nature's powers ; Even Beauty ' s powers of empiry Decay in the decaying hours , "Until even you may set a task Too hsavy for the poet ' s powers .

" Mortals in vain—so says the text—Seek grapes from briars , from thistles corn : Say , can fair Wollenluss expect Fruit from a withered Scottish thorn ? Time once there was , alas , but now That hour returns not , ne'er again ; Tho shades upon the dial oast

Proceed , but pass not back again . " Yet in this land of lengthened day , Where April wears the Autumn ' s hue , Awakened by the genial ray , Thoughts of past visions strive to . flow ; The blood grows warm , the nerves expand , The stiffened fingers take the pen , And . "

These are the very last words ever penned by the great wizard , our illus- ' trious brother , * ere his mighty instrument " dropped from his nerveless grasp . "