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Sleep came at length, but with a train
And to the torch glanced broad and clear of feelings true and fancies vain,
The corslet of a cuirassier: Mingling, in wild disorder cast,
Then from his brows the casque he drew, The expected future with the past
And from the dank plume dashed the dew, Conscience, anticipating time,
From groves of mail relieved his hands, Already rues the enacted crime,
And spread them to the kindling brands, And calls her furies forth, to shake
And, turning to the genial board, The sounding scourge and hissing snake;
Without a health, or pledge, or word While her poor victim's outward throes
Of meet and social reverence said, Bear witness to his mental woes.
Deeply he drank, and fiercely fed; And show what lesson may be read
As free from ceremony's sway, Beside a sinner's restless bed.
As famished wolf that tears his prey.
VII. Thus Oswald's labouring feelings trace
With deep inpatience, tinged with fear, Strange changes in his sleeping face,
His host, beheld him gorge his cheer,
And quaff the full caroase, that lent
Now Oswald stood a space aside,
Now paced the room with hasty stride, While the perturbed sleeper's hand
In feverish agony to learn Seemed grasping dagger-knife, or brand.
Tidings of deep and dread concern, Relaxed that grasp, the heavy sigh,
Cursing each moment that his guest The tear in the half-opening eye,
Protracted o'er his ruffian feast. The pallid cheek and brow confessed
Yet viewing with alarm, at last, That grief was busy in his breast;
The end of that uncouth repast, Nor paused that mood--a sudden start
Almost he seemed their haste to rue. Impelled the life-blood from the heart:
As, at his sigu, his train withdrew, Features convulsed, and mutterings dread, And left him with the stranger, free Show terror reigns in sorrow's stead.
To question of his mystery. That pang the painful slumber broke,
Then did his silence long proclaim
A struggle between fear and shame,
VIII. lle woke, and feared again to close
Much in the stranger's mien appears, llis eyelids in such dire repose;
To justify suspicions fears. He woke,-to watch the lamp, and tell
On his dark face a scorching clime, From honr to honr the castle-bell.
And toil, had done the work of time, Or listen to the owlet's cry,
Roughened the brow, the temples bared, Or the sad breeze that whistles by,
And sable hairs with silver shared, Or catch, by fits, the tuneless rhyme
Yet left--what age alone could tameWith which the warder cheats the time,
The lip of pride, the eye of flame, And envying think, how, when the sun
The full-drawn lip that upward curled, Bids the poor soldier's watch be done,
The eye, that seemed to scorn the world, Couched on his straw, and fancy-free,
That lip had terror never blenched; le sleeps like careless infancy.
Ne'er in that eye hath tear-drop quenched
The flash severe of swarthy glow, v.
That mocked at pain, and knew not woe; Far townward sounds a distant tread,
Inured to danger's direst form, And Oswald, starting from his bed,
Tornade and earthquake, flood and storm, Hath caught it, though no hunan ear,
Death had he seen by sudden blow, Insharpened by revenge and fear,
By wasting plagne, by tortures slow, Could e'er distinguish horse's clank
By mine or breach, by steel or ball, Until it reached the castle bank.
Knew all his shapes, and scorned them all. Now nigh and plain the sound appears, The warder's challenge now he hears,
IX. Then clanking chains and levers tell,
But yet, though BERTRAM's hardened look That o'er the moat the drawbridge fell,
Unmoved could blood and danger brook, And, in the castle court below,
Still worse than apathy had place Voices are heard, and torches glow.
On his swart brow and callous face; As marshalling the stranger's way,
For evil passions, cherished long, Straight for the room where Oswald lay;
Had plotighed them with impressions strong. The cry was,-"Tidings from the host,
All that gives gloss to sin, all gay Of weight-i messenger comes post."
Light folly, passed with youth away, Stifting the tumult of his breast,
But rooted stood, in manhood's hour, His answer Oswald thus expressed
The weeds of vice without their flower. "Bring food and wine, and trim the fire;
And yet the soil in which they grew, Adinit the stranger and retire."
Had it been tamed when life was new,
Had depth and vigour to bring forth
Not that, e'en then, his heart had known The morion's plumes his visage hide,
The gentler feelings' kindly tone; And the buff-coat, an ample fold.
But lavish waste had been refined Mantles his form's gigantic mould.
To bounty in his chastened mind, Full slender answer deigned he
And lust of gold, that waste to feed, To Oswald's anxious courtesy,
Been lost in love of glory's meed, But marked, by a disdainful smile,
And, frantie then no more, his pride
Had ta'en fair virtue for its guide.
Even now, by conscience unrestrained,
Clogged by gross vice, by slaughter stained, His guest, the while, laid slow aside
Still knew his daring soul to soar, The ponderous cloak of tough bull's hide,
And mastery o'er the mind he bore;
Ponds, the Oks Jeht be's tacs place
For meaner guilt, or heart less hard,
And the pale pilot seeks in vain, Quailed beneath Bertram's bold regard.
Where rolls the river, where the main. And this felt Oswald, while in vain
Even thus, upon the bloody field, He strove, by many a winding train,
The eddying tides of conflict wheeled To lure nis sullen guest to show,
Ambiguous, till that heart of fiame, Unasked, the news he longed to know,
Hot Rupert, on our squadrons came, While on far other subject hung
Hurling against our spears a line His heart, than faltered from his tongue.
Of gallants, fiery as their wine; Yet nonght for that his guest did deign
Then ours, though stubborn in their zeal, To note or spare his secret pain,
In zeal's despite began to reel. But still, in stern and stubborn sort,
What wouldst thou more?-in tumult tossed, Returned him answer dark and short,
Our leaders fell, our ranks were lost. Or started from the theme, to range
A thousand men, who drew the sword In loose digression wild and strange,
For beth the Houses and the Word, And forced the embarrassed host to buy,
Preached forth from hamlet, grange, and down, By query close, direct reply.
To curb the crosier and the crown.
Now, stark and stiff, lie stretched in gore,
And ne'er shall rail at mitre more.-
Thus fared it, when I left the fight, Of Commons, Covenant, and Laws,
With the good Cause and Commons' right," And Church reformed-but felt rebuke Beneath grim Bertram's sneering look.
XIV. Then stammered-" Has a field been fought?
** Disastrous news !" dark Wycliffe said; Has Bertram news of battle brought?
Assumed despondence bent his head, For sure a soldier, famed so far
While troubled joy was in his eye, In foreign fields for feats of war,
The well-feigned sorrow to belie. --On eve of fight ne'er left the host,
“Disastrous news!when needed most, Until the field were won or lost."
Told ye not that your chiefs were lost? "Here, in your towers by circling Tees,
Complete the woeful tale, and say, You, Oswald Wycliffe, rest at ease:
Who fell upon that fatal day; Why deem it strange that others come
What leaders of repute and name To share such safe and easy home,
Bought by their death a deathless fame! From fields where danger, death, and toil,
If such my direst foeman's doom, Are the reward of civil broil?"
My tears shall dew his honoured tomb. "Nay, mock not, friend !-since well we know
No answer?-Friend, of all oth host, The near advances of the foe,
Thou know'st whom I should hate the most, To mar our northern army's work,
Whom thou too, once, wert wont to hate, Encamped before beleaguered York;
Yet leavest me doubtful of his fate." Thy horse with valiant Fairfax lay,
With look unmoved," Of friend or foe, And must have fought-how went the day?"
Aught," answered Bertram, "wouldst thou
Demand in simple terms and plain, “Wouldst hear the tale?-On Marston heath A soldier's answer shalt thou gain; Met, front to front, the ranks of death;
For question dark, or riddle high, Flourished the trumpets fierce, and now
I have not judgment nor reply." Fired was each eye, and flushed each brow;
XV. On either side lorid clamours ring,
The wrath his art and fear suppressed, *God and the Cause!'-'God and the King!'
Now blazed at once in Wycliffe,s breast; Bight English all, they rushed to blows,
And brave, from man so meanly born, With nought to win, and all to lose.
Roused his hereditary scorn. I could have laughed--but lacked the time
"Wretch! hast thon paid thy bloody debt? To see, in phrenesy sublime,
PHILIP OF MORTHAM, lives he yet? How the fierce zealots fought and bled,
False to thy patron or thine oath, For king or state, as hamour led;
Trait'rous or prejured. one or both. Some for a dream of public good,
Slave! hast thou kept thy promise plight, Some for church-tippet, gown and hood,
To slay thy leader in the fight?"Draining their veins, in death to claim
Then from his seat the soldier sprung, A patriot's or a martyr's name.-
And Wycliffe's hand he strongly wrung ; Led Bertram Risingham the hearts,
His grasp, as hard as glove of mail, That countered there on adverse parts,
Forced the red blood-drop from the nailNo superstitious fool had I
"A health!" he cried; and, ere he quaffed, Sought Di Dorados in the sky!
Flung from 'him Wycliffe's hand, and laughed: Chili had heard me through her states,
-"Now, Oswald Wycliffe, aks thy heart! And Lima oped her silver gates,
Now play'st thou well thy genuine part! Rich Mexico I had marched through,
Worthy, but for thy craven fear, And sacked the splendours of Peru,
Like me to roam a buccaneer. Till sunk Pizarro's daring name,
What reck'st thou of the Cause divine. And, Cortez, thine, in Bertram's fame."
If Mortham's wealth and lands be thine ? - Still from the purpose wilt thou stray !
What carest thou for beleaguered York,
If this good hand have done its work?
Or what, though Fairfax and his best
Are reddening Marston's swarthy breast, _"Good am I deemed at trumpet-sound,
If Philip Mortham with them lie, And good where goblets dance the round,
Lending his life-blood to the dye? Thongh gentle ne'er was joined, till now,
Sit, then! and as 'mid comrades free With rugged Bertram's breast and brow.
Caronsing after victory, Bat I resume. The battle's rage
When tales are told of blood and fear, Was like the strife which currents wage,
That boys and women shrink to hear, Where Orinoco, in his pride,
From point to point I frankly tell
The deed of death as it befell,
" When purposed vengeance I forego, The billows fling their foam to heaven,
| Term me a wretch, nor deem me foe;
sit: 011sines are soment franken.
ist 1832% wiser
And when an insult I forgive.
As my spur pressed my courser's side, Then brand me as a slave, and live!
Philip of Mortham's cause was tried. Philip of Mortham is with those
And, ere the charging squadrons mixed, Whoin Bertram Risingham calls foes;
His plea was cast, his doom was fixed. Or whom more sure revenge attends,
I watched him through the doubtful fray. If numbered with ungrateful friends.
That changed as Mareh's moody day, As was his wont, ere battle glowed,
Till, like a stream that burst its bank, Along the marshalled ranks he rode,
Fierce Rupert thundered on our flank. And wore his visor up the while.
'Twas then, 'midst tumult, smoke, and strife, I saw his inelancholy smile,
Where each man fought for death or life, When, full opposed in front, he knew
'Twas then I fired my petronel, Where ROKEBY's kindred banner flew.
And Mortham, steed and rider, fell. And thus,' he said, 'will friends divide!'
One dying look he upward cast, I heard, and thought how, side by side,
Of wrath and anguish-'twas his last. We two had turned the battle's tide,
Think not that there I stopped to view In many a well debated field,
What of the battle should ensue; Where Bertram's breast was Philip's shield. But ere I cleared that bloody press, I thought on Darien's deserts pale,
Our northern horse ran masterless; Where death bestrides the evening gule,
Monckton and Mitton told the news, How o'er my friend my cloak I threw,
How troops of Roundheads choked the Ouse, And fencless faced the deadly dew:
And many a bonny Scot, aghast, I thought on Quarium's cliff,
Spurring his palfrey northward, passed, Where, rescued from our foundering skill,
Cursing the day when zeal or meed Through the white breakers' wrath I bore
First lured their Lesley o'er the Tweed. Exhausted Mortham to the shore;
Yet when I reached the banks of Swale, And when his side an arrow found,
Had rumour learned another tale; I sucked the Indian's venomed wound.
With his barbed horse, fresh tidings say, These thoughts like torrents rushed along,
Stout Cromwell has redeemed the day; To sweep away my purpose strong.
But whether false the news, or true,
Oswald, I reck as light as you." XVII. "Hearts are not fiint, and fints are rent:
XX. Hearts are not steel, and steel is bent.
Not then by Wycliffe might be shown, When Mortham bade me, as of yore,
How his pride startled at the tone Be near him in the battle's roar,
In which his complice, fierce and free, I scarcely saw the spears laid low,
Asserted guilt's equality. I scarcely heard the trumpets blow;
In smoothest terms his speech he wove, Lost was the war in inward strife,
Of endless friendship, faith, and love ; Debating Mortham's death or life.
Promised and vowed in courteous sort, 'Twas then I thought, how, lured to come,
But Bertram broke professions short. As partner of his wealth and home,
“Wycliffe, be sure not here I stay, Years of piratic wandering o'er,
No, scarcely till the rising day: With him I sought our native shore.
Warned by the legends of my youth, But Mortham's iord grew far estranged
I trust not an associate's truth. From the bold heart with whom he ranged;
Do not my native dales prolong Doubts, horrors, superstitious fears,
Of Percy Rede the tragic song, Saddened and dimmed descending years;
Trained forward to his bloody fall, The wily priests their victim sought,
By Girsonfield, that treacherous Hall ? And damned each free-born deed and thought.
oft, by the Pringle's hannted side, Then must I seek another home,
The shepherd sees his spect re glide. My licence shook his sober dome :
And near the spot that gave me naine, If gold he gave, in one wild day
The moated mound of Risingham, I revelled thrice the sum away.
Where Reed upon her margin sees An idle outcast then I strayed,
Sweet Woodburn's cottages and trees, Unfit for tillage or for trade.
Some ancient sculptor's art has shown Deemed, like the steel of rusted lance,
An outlaw's image on the stone: Useless and dangerous at once.
Unmatched in strength, a giant he, The women feared my hardy look,
With quivered back, and kirtled knee. At my approach the peaceful shook :
Ask how he died, that hunter bold, The merchant saw my glance of flame,
The tameless monarch of the wold, And locked his hoards when Bertram came;
And age and infancy can tell, Each child of coward peace kept far
By brother's treachery he fell.-
Thus warned by legends of my youth,
I trust to no associate's truth. " But civil discord gave the call,
"When last we reasoned of this leed, His vassals to the fight to train.
Nought, I bethink me, was agreed, What guerdon waited on my care?
Or by what rule, or when, or where, I could not cant of creed or prayer;
The wealth of Mortham we should share; Sour fanatics each trust obtained,
Then list, while I the portion name, And I, dishonoured and disdained,
Our differing laws give cach to claim. Gained but the high and happy lot,
Thou, vassal sworn to England's throne, In these poor arms to front the shot!
Her rules of heritage must own; All this thou know'st, thy gestures tell;
They deal thee, as to nearest heir, Yet hear it o'er, and mark it well.
Thy kinsman's lands and livings fair, 'Tis honour bids me now relate
And these I yield:do thon revere Each circumstance of Mortham's fate.
The statutes of the buccaneer.
Friend to the sea, and foeman sworn
To all that on her waves are borne,
When dies in fight a daring foe,
In Deepdale's solitude to lie, He claims his wealth who struck the blow; Where all is cliff, and copse, and sky; And either rule to me assigns
To climb Catcastle's dizzy peak, Those spoils of Indian seas and mines
Or lone Pendragon's mound to seek. Hoarded in Mortham's caverns dark:
Such was he wont; and there his dream Ingot of gold and diamond spark,
Soared on some wild fantastic theme, Chalice and plate from churches borne,
Of faithful love, or ceaseless Spring, And gems from shrieking beauty torn,
Till Contemplation's wearied wing Each string of pearl, each silver bar,
The enthusiast could no more sustain, And all the wealth of western war.
And sad he sunk to earth again.
He loved-as many a lay can tell, The heir will scarce find entrance free;
Preserved in Stanmore's lonely dell; And then farewell. I haste to try
For his was minstrel's skill, he caught Each wearied pleasure wealth can buy:
The art unteachable, untaught; When cloyed each wish, these wars afford
He loved his soul did nature frame Fresh work for Betram's restless sword."
For love, and fancy nursed the flame;
Vainly he loved-for seldom swain
Of such soft mould is loved again;
Silent he loved-in every gaze On Oswald's hesitating tongue.
Was passion, friendship in his phrase. Despite his craft, he heard with awe
So mused his life away-till dled This ruffian stabber fix the law:
His brethren all, their father's pride. While his own troubled pussions veer,
Wilfrid is now the only heir Through hatred, joy, regret, and fear;
Of all his stratagems and care, Joyed at the soul that Bertram flies,
And destined, darkling, to pursue
Ambition's maze by Oswald's clue.
Wilfrid must love and woo the bright To cowardice and craft so dear,
Matilda, heir of Rokeby's knight. "His charge," he said, “would ill allow
To love her was an easy hest, His absence from the fortress now:
The secret empress of his breast; WILFRID on Bertram should attend,
To woo her was a harder task His son should journey with his friend."
To one that durst not hope or ask.
Yet all Matilda could, she gave
In pity to her gentle slave;
Friendship, esteem, and fair regard, And wreathed to savage smile his frown.
And praise, the poet's best reward! " Wilfrid, or thou-'tis one to me,
She read the tales his taste approved, Whichever bears the golden key.
And sung the lays he framed or loved; Yet think not but I mark, and smile
Yet, loth to nurse the fatal flame To mark thy poor and selfish wile !
Of hopeless love in friendship's name, If injury from me you fear,
In kind caprice she oft withdrew What, Oswald Wycliffe, shields thee here?
The favouring glance to friendship due, I've sprung from walls more high than these, Then grieved to see her victim's pain, I've swam through deeper streams than Tees. And gave the dangerous smiles again. Might I not stab thee, ere one yell Could rouse the distant sentinel?
XXVIII. Start not-it is not my design,
So did the suit of Wilfred stand, But, if it were, weak fence were thine;
When war's loud summons waked the laná. And, trust me, that, in time of need,
Three banners, floating o'er the Tees, This hand hath done more desperate deed. The woe-foreboding peasant sees; Go, haste and rouse thy slumbering son;
In concert of they braved of old Time calls, and I must needs be gone."-
The bordering Scot's incursion bold;
Frowning defiance in their pride,
Their vassals now and lords divide.
From his fair hall on Greta banks, Polluted Wilfrid's gentle heart
The Knight of Rokeby led his ranks, A heart, too soft from early life
To aid the valiant northern Earls To hold with fortune needful strife.
Who drew the sword for royal Charles; His sire, while yet a hardier race
Mortham, by marriage near allied, Of numerous sons were Wycliffe's grace,
His sister had been Rokeby's bride, On Wilfrid set contemptuous brand,
Though long before the civil fray, For feeble heart and forceless hand;
In peaceful grave the lady lay,Bnt a fond mother's care and joy
Philip of Mortham raised his hand, Were centred in her sickly boy.
And marched at Fairfax's command: No touch of childhood's frolic mood
While Wycliffe, bound by many a train Showed the elastic spring of blood;
Of kindred heart with wily Vane, Hour after hour he loved to pore
Less prompt to brave the bloody field, On Shakspere's rich and varied lore,
Made Barnard's battlements his shield But turned from martial scenes and light,
Secured them with his Lunedale powers, From Falstaff's feast and Percy's fight,
And for the Commons held the towers. To ponder Jaques' moral strain,
XXIX. And muse with Hamlet, wise in vain;
The lovely I.eir of Rokeby's knight And weep himself to soft repose
Waits in the halls the event of fight:
For England's war revered the claim.
Of every unprotected name,
And spared, amid its fiercest rage, By youth in horse, and hawk, and hound,
Childhood and womanhood and age. But loved the quiet joys that wake
But Wilfrid, son to Rokeby's foe, By lonely stream and silent lake;
Must the dear privilege forego,
Ended him by the house to whichorns, of very | Aberdeenshirei Bachan, desea Comyn, der Phill
level to the ground. Robert likewise caused
CANTO SISTH. houses to be built round the well of King's Ease, før eight lepers, and allowed eight bowls of oat
When Bruce's banner had victorious flow'd meal, and £28 Scotch money, per annum, to each O'er Loudoun's mountains and in lry's vale. person. These donations were laid upon the
--St. 1, p. 168. lands of Fullarton, and are now payable by the The first important advantage gained by Duke of Portland. The farm of Shiels, in the Bruce, after landing at Turnberry, was over neighbourhood of Ayr, has to give, if required, a | Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, the same certain quantity of straw for the lepers' beds, by whom he had been defeated near Methven. and so much to thatch their houses annually. They met, as has been said, by appointment, at Each leprous person had a drinking-horn pro Loudonhill, in the west of Scotland. Pembroke vided him by the king, which continued to be sustained a defeat ; and from that time Bruce hereditary in the house to which it was first was at the head of a considerable flying army. granted. One of those identical horns, of very Yet he was subsequently obliged to retreat into curious workmanship, was in the possession of Aberdeenshire, and was there assailed by the late Colonel Fullarton of that Ilk."
Comyn, Earl of Buchan, desirons to avenge the
death of his relative, the Red Comyn, and sup“ Bring here," he said, "the mazers four, ported by a body of English troops under Philip My noble father's loved of yore."
de Moubray. Bruce was ill at the time of a -St. XXXIV, p. 168. scrofulous disorder, but took horse to meet his
enemies, although obliged to be supported on - These mazes were large drinking-cups, or gob
either side. He was victorious, and it is said lets. Mention of them occurs in a curious inven
that the agitation of his spirits restored his tory of the treasure and jewels of James III,
health. which will be published, with other curious documents of antiquity, by my friend, Mr. Thomas When English blood oft deluged Douglas-dale. Thomson, D. Register of Scotland, under the
-St. I, p. 168. title of "A Collection of Inventories, and other
The "good Lord James of Douglas," during Records of the Royal Wardrobe, Jewel-House,"
these commotions, often took from the English his own castle of Doug las, but being unable to
garrison it, contented himself with destroying Arouse old friends, and gather new.
the fortifications, and retiring into the moun
--St. xxxiv, p. 168. tains. As a reward to his patriotism, it is said As soon as it was known in Kyle, says ancient
to have been prophesied, that how often soever tradition, that Robert Bruce had landed in Car
Douglas Castle should be destroyed, it should rick, with the intention of recovering the crown
always again arise more magnificent from its of Scotland, the Laird of Craigie, and forty-eight
ruins. Upon one of these occasions he used men in his immediate neighbourhood, declared in
fearful cruelty, causing all the store of profavour of their legitimate prince. Bruce granted
visions, which the English had laid up in his them a tract of land, still retained by the free
castle, to be heaped together, bursting the wine men of Newton to this day.
and beer casks among the wheat and four, The forest of Selkirk, or Ettrick, at this period,
slaughtering the cattle upon the same spot, and occupied all the district which retains that de
upon the top of the whole cutting the throats nomination, and embraced the neighbouring
I of the English prisoners. This pleasantry dales of Tweeddale, and at least the Upper Ward
of the “good Lord James" is commemorated
under the name of the Douglas's Larder. A of Clydesdale. All that tract was probably as
more pleasing tale of chivalry is recorded by waste as it is mountainous, and covered with the remains of the ancient Caledonian Forest, which
Godscroft.-"By this means, and such other is supposed to have stretched from Cheviot Hills
exploits, he so affrighted the enemy, that it was as far as Hamilton, and to have comprehended
counted a matter of great jeopardie to keep this even a part of Ayrshire. At the fatal battle of
castle, which began to be called the adventurous Falkirk, Sir John Stewart of Bonkill, brother to
(or hazardous) Castle of Douglas; whereupon Sir the Stewart of Scotland, commanded the archers
John Walton being in suit of an English lady, of Selkirk Forest, whio fell around the dead body
she wrote to him, that when he had kept the
adventurous Castle of Douglas seven years, then of their leader. The English historians have commemorated the tall and stately persons, as
he might think himself worthy to be a suitor to well as the answerving faith, of these foresters.
her. Upon this occasion Walton took upon him Nor has their interesting fall escaped the notice
the keeping of it, and succeeded to Thruswall,
but he ran the same fortune with the rest that of an elegant modern poetess, whose subject led
were before him. For Sir James, having first her to treat of that calamitous engagement:
dressed an ambuscado near unto the place, he * The glance of the morn had sparkled bright made fourteen of his men take so many sacks, On their plumage green and their actons and fill them with grass, as though it had been light;
corn, which they carried in the way to Lanark, The bugle was strung at each hunter's side, the chief market town in that county: so hoping As they had been bound to the chase to ride; to draw forth the captain by that bait, and But the bugle is mute, and the shafts are either to take him or the castle, or both. Neither spent,
was this expectation frustrated, for the captain The arm innerved and the bow unbent,
did bite, and came forth fo have taken this And the tired forester is laid
victual (as he supposed). But ere he could Far, far from the clustering greenwood reach these carriers, Sir James, with his comshade!
pany, had gotten between the castle and him; Sore have they toil'd! they are fallen asleep, and these disguised carriers, seeing the captain And their slumber is heavy, and dull, and following after them, did quickly cast off their deep!
sacks, mounted themselves on horseback, and When over their bones the grass shall wave, met the captain with a sharp encounter, being When the wild winds over their tombs shall so much the more amazed, as it was unlooked rave,
for: wherefore, when he saw these carriers Memory shall be in on their graves, and tell metamorphosed into warriors, and ready to How Selkirk's unters bold around old Stewart assault him, fearing that which was, that there fell!"
was some train laid for them, he turned about - Wallace, or the Fight of Falkirk, by to have retired to his castle, but there he also
Miss HOLFORD. I met with his enemies; between which two com