And yet the jealous niggard grudge
To pay the forester his fee?

I'll have my share, howe'er it be,
Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee."
Bertram his forward step withstood;1
And, barning in his vengeful mood,
Old Allan, though unfit for strife,
Laid hand upon his dagger-knife;
But Ellen boldly stepp'd between,
And dropp'd at once the tartan screen :---
So, from his morning cloud, appears
The sun of May, through summer tears.
The savage soldiery, amazed,2

As on descended angel gazed;

Even hardy Brent, abash'd and tamed,
Stood half admiring, half ashamed.

VIII.

Boldly she spoke,-" Soldiers, attend!
My father was the soldier's friend;
Cheer'd him in camps, in marches led,
And with him in the battle bled.

Not from the valiant, or the strong,
Should exile's daughter suffer wrong."-
Answer'd De Brent, most forward still
In every feat or good or ill,-

1 [MS." Bertram

{such}

violence withstood."]

2 [MS." While the rude soldiery, amazed."]
8 [MS." Should Ellen Douglas suffer wrong."]

8

"I shame me of the part I play'd:
And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid!
An outlaw I by forest laws,

1

And merry Needwood knows the cause.
Poor Rose, if Rose be living now,"-
He wiped his iron eye and brow,—
"Must bear such age, I think, as thou.--
Hear ye, my mates;-I go to call
The Captain of our watch to hall:
There lies my halberd on the floor;
And he that steps my halberd o'er,
To do the maid injurious part,
My shaft shall quiver in his heart !—
Beware loose speech, or jesting rough:
Ye all know John de Brent. Enough."

IX.

Their Captain came, a gallant young,—
(Of Tullibardine's house he sprung,)
Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight;
Gay was his mien, his humour light,
And, though by courtesy controll❜d,
Forward his speech, his bearing bold.
The high-born maiden ill could brook
The scanning of his curious look
And dauntless eye;-and yet, in sooth,
Young Lewis was a generous youth;
But Ellen's lovely face and mien,

[MS. "My Rose,'--he wiped his iron eye and brow,'Poor Rose, if Rose be living now.""]

Ill suited to the garb and scene,

Might lightly bear construction strange,
And give loose fancy scope to range.
"Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid!
Come ye to seek a champion's aid,
On palfry white, with harper hoar,
Like errant damosel of yore?
Does thy high quest a knight require,
Or may the venture suit a squire?".
Her dark eye flash'd;—she paused and sigh❜d,—
"O what have I to do with pride!—
-Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife,
A suppliant for a father's life,

I crave an audience of the King.
Behold, to back my suit, a ring,

The royal pledge of grateful claims,
Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James." 1

X.

The signet-ring young Lewis took,

With deep respect and alter'd look ;

And said," This ring our duties own;
And pardon, if to worth unknown,
In semblance mean obscurely veil❜d,
Lady, in aught my folly fail'd.

Soon as the day flings wide his gates,
The King shall know what suitor waits.
Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower

[MS." The Monarch gave to James Fitz-James."]

Repose you till his waking hour;
Female attendance shall obey
Your hest, for service or array.
Permit I marshal you the way."
But, ere she follow'd, with the grace
And open bounty of her race,
She bade her slender purse be shared
Among the soldiers of the guard.

The rest with thanks their guerdon took;
But Brent, with shy and awkward look,
On the reluctant maiden's hold

-

Forced bluntly back the proffer'd gold ;-
“Forgive a haughty English heart,
And O forget its ruder part!

The vacant purse shall be my share,1
Which in my barret-cap I'll bear,

Perchance, in jeopardy of war,

Where gayer crests may keep afar.”

With thanks,—'twas all she could,—the maid

His rugged courtesy repaid.

XI.

When Ellen forth with Lewis went,
Allan made suit to John of Brent:-
"My lady safe, O let your grace
Give me to see my master's face!
His minstrel I,-to share his doom
Bound from the cradle to the tomb.

[MS." The silken purse shall serve for me,
And in my barret-cap shall flee."]

Tenth in descent, since first my sires
Waked for his noble house their lyres,
Nor one of all the race was known
But prized its weal above their own.
With the Chief's birth begins our care;
Our harp must soothe the infant heir,
Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace
His earliest feat of field or chase;
In peace, in war, our rank we keep,
We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep,
Nor leave him till we pour our verse,-
A doleful tribute!-o'er his hearse.
Then let me share his captive lot;
It is my right-deny it not!"-
"Little we reck," said John of Brent,
"We Southern men, of long descent;
Nor wot we how a name-a word-
Makes clansmen vassals to a lord:
Yet kind my noble landlord's part,-
God bless the house of Beaudesert!
And, but I loved to drive the deer,
More than to guide the labouring steer,
I had not dwelt an outcast here.
Come, good old Minstrel, follow me;
Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see."

XII.

Then from a rusted iron hook,

A bunch of ponderous keys he took,
Lighted a torch, and Allan led