« 前へ次へ »
Doubtful of perilous event,
« Now cheer 'thee, simple Amadine!
– That name the pirates to their slave,
XVI. As round the torch the leaders crowd, Bruce read these chilling news aloud. « What council, nobles, have we now ?To amhush us in green-wood bough, And take the chance which fate may send To bring our enterprise to end; Or shall we turn us to the main As exiles, and embark again?»Answer'd fierce Edward, « llap what may, In Carrick, Carrick's lord must stay. I would not minstrels told the tale, Wild-fire or meteor made us quail.» Answer'd ibe Douglas, « If my liege May win yon walls by storm or siege, Then were each brave and patriot heart Kindled of new for loyal part. » Answer'd Lord Ronald, « Not for shame, Would i that aged Torquil came, And found, for all our empty boast, Without a blow we fled the coast. I will not credit that this land, So famed for warlike heart and hand, The nurse of Wallace and of Bruce, Will loog with tyrants hold a truce.» « Prove we our fate--the brunt we'll bide!» So Boyd and Haye and Lennox cried; So said, so vow'd, the leaders all; So Bruce resolved: « And in my hall Since the bold southern make their home, The hour of payment soon shall come, When with a rongh and rugged bost Clifford may reckon te luis cost. Meantime, through well-known bosk and dell, I'll lead where we may shelter well.
XIX. The barrier of that iron shore, The rock's steep ledge, is now climb'd o'er; And from the castle's distant wall, From tower to lower the warders call : The sound swings over land and sea, And marks a watchful enemy. They gaind the chase, a wide domain Left for the castle's sylvan reign (7) (Seek not the scene-the axe, the plough, The boor's dull fence; have marr'd it now), But then, soft swept in velyet green The plain with many a glade between, Whose tangled alleys far invade The depth of the brown forest shade. Here the tall fern obscured the lawn, Fair shelter for the sportive faun: There, tafted close with copse-wood green, Was many a swelling hillock seen ; And all around was verdure meet For pressure of the fairies' feet. The glossy holly loved the park, The yew-tree lent its shadow dark, And many an old oak, worn and bare, With all its shiver'd boughs,' was there. Lovely between, the moon-beams fell On lawn and hillock, glade and dell. The gallade monarch sigli'd to see Those glades so loved in childhood free, Bethinking that, as outlaw now, He ranged beneath the forest bougli.
XX. Fast o'er the moon-light chase they sped. Well know the band that measured tread, When in retreat or in advance, The serried warriors move at once; And evil were the luck, if dawn Descried them on the open lawn. Copses they traverse, brooks they cross, Straid up the bank and o'er the moss. From the exhausted page's brow Cold drops of toil are streaming now;
With effort faint and lengthen'd pause,
Nay, droop not yet!» the warrior said;
To Amadine, Lorn's well-known word
XXI. What may be done ?-the night is gone The Bruce's band moves swiftly onEternal shame, if at the brunt Lord Ronald grace not battle's front! « See yonder oak, within whose trunk Decay a darken'd cell hath sunkEnter, and rest thee there a space, Wrap in my plaid thy limbs, thy face. I will not be, believe me, far; But must not quit the raoks of war. Well will I mark the bosky bourne, And soon to guard thee hence, return.Nay, weep not so, thou simple boy! But sleep in peace, and wake in joy.» In sylvan lodging close bestow'd, He placed the page, and onward strode With strength put forth, o'er moss and brook, And soon the marching band o'ertook.
XXIV. « And was she thus,» said Clifford, « lost! The priest will rue it to his cost! What says the monk?»-« The holy sire Owns that, ia masquer's quaint attire, She sought bis skiff, disguised, unknown To all except to him alone. But, says the priest, a bark from Lorn Laid them aboard that very morn, And pirales seized her for their prey. He proffer'd ransom-gold to pay, And they agreed-but e'er told o'er, The winds blow loud, the billows roar; They sever'd, and they met no more. He deems-such tempest vex'd the coastShip, crew, and fugitive, were lost. -So let it be, with the disgrace And scandal of her lofty race! Thrice better she had ne'er been born, Than brought her infamy on Lorą!»
XXII. Thus strangely left, long sobb'd and wepe The page, till, wearied out, he slept.A rough voice waked his dream-« « Nay, here, Here by this thicket, pass'd the deerBeneath that oak old Ryno staidWhat have we here? a Scottish plaid, And in its folds a stripliog laid?Come forth ! thy name and business tell !What, silent ?-then I guess thee well, The spy that sought old Cuthbert's cell, Wafted from Annan yester mornCome, comrades, we will strait return. Our lord chuse the rack should teach To this young lurcher use of speech. Thy bow-string, till I bind him fast.» « Nay, but he weeps and stands aghast; Unbound we 'H lead him, fear it not; 'T is a fair stripling, though a Scot.» The hunters to the castle sped, And there the hapless captive led.
Whom, Herbert, hast thou there?» he cried.
XXIII. Stout Clifford in the castle-court Prepared bim for the morning sport; And now with Lorn held deep discourse, Now gave command for hound and horse. War-steeds and palfreys paw'd the ground, And many a deer-dog howld around.
XXVI. And will he keep his purpose still, In sight of that last closing ill, a When one poor breath, ope single word, May freedom, safety, life, afford ? Can he resist the instinctive call, For life that bids us barter all?
Love, strong as death, his heart hath steeld, His nerves hath strung-he will not yield! Since that poor breath, that little word, May yield Lord Ronald to the sword. Clan-Colla's dirge is pealing wide, The grisly headsman 's by his side; Along the green-wood chase they bend, And now their march has ghasily end! That old and shatter'd oak beneath They destine for the place of death. -What thoughts are his, while all in vain His eye for aid explores the plain? What thoughts, while, with a dizzy ear, He hears the death-prayer mutter'd near? And must he die such death accurst, Or will that bosom-secret burst? Cold on his brow breaks terror's dew, His trembling lips are livid blue; The agony of parting life Has nought to match that moment's strife!
XXIX. « The Bruce, the Bruce!» to well-known cry His native rocks and woods reply. « The Bruce, the Bruce !» in that dread word The knell of hundred deaths was heard. The astonish'd southern gazed at first, Where the wild tempest was to burst, That waked in that presaging name! Before, behind, around it came ! Half-armd, surprised, on every side Hemm'd in, hew'd down, they bled and died. Deep in the ring the Bruce engaged, And fierce Clan-Colla's broadsword raged! Full soon the few who fought were sped, Nor better was their lot who fled, And met, 'mid terror's wild career, The Douglas's redoubted spear! Two hundred yeomen on that morn The castle left, and none return.
--Edward ith forty spearmen, straight
XXX. Not on their flight press'd Ronald's brand, A gentler duty claim'd his hand. He raised the page, where on the plain His fear had sunk him with the slain; And, twice that morn, surprise well near Betray'd the secret kept by fear. Once, when, with life returning, came
To the boy's lip lord Ronald's name, ? And hardly recollection drown'd
The accents in a murmuring sound;
*XXVIII. Like war-horse eager to rush on, Compelld to wait the signal blown, Hid, and scarce hid, by green-wood bough, Trembling with rage, stands Ronald now, And in his grasp bis sword gleams blue, Soon to be dyed with deadlier hue.-Meanwhile the Bruce, with steady eye, Sees the dark death-train moving by, And heedful measures oft the space, The Douglas and his band must trace, Ere they can reach their destined ground. Now sinks the dirge's wailing sound, Now cluster round the direful tree That slow and solemn company,
His fury had assail'd;
Where prudence might have fail'd.
By which its planks arose ;
The gate they may not close.
Against an hundred foes.
Mad with success, and drunk with gore,
And ward on ward they win.
And fearful was the din!
Nor sunk the fearful cry,
Groand in their agony!
Sit, gentle friends! our hour of glee
And cut the cable loose.
If Lorn encounter'd Bruce!
The rugged vaults replied;
Of silver, waving wide!
The emotions of the spirit-rousing time,
Early and late, at evening and at prime; When the loud cannon and the merry chime
Hail'd news on news, as field on field was won, When hope, long doubtful, soar'd at length sublime,
And our glad eyes, awake as day begun, Watch'd Joy's broad banner rise, to meet the rising sun!
O these were hours, when thrilling joy repaid
A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears ! The heart-sick faintness of the hope delay'd,
The waste, the woe, the bloodstied, and the tears, That track'd with terror twenty rolling years,
All was forgot in that blithe jubilee!
To sighi a thankful prayer, amid the glee,
XXXIII. The Bruce hath won his fathers' hal! (8) -«Welcome, brave friends and comrades all,
Welcome to mirth and joy!
To this poor speechless boy.
In tottering infancy!
To youth's unthinking glee !
Such news o'er Scotland's hills triumphant rode,
When 'gainst the invaders turn d the battle's scale, When Bruce's banner had victorious flow'd
O'er Loudoun's mountain, and in Ury's vale; (1) When English blood oft deluged Douglas-dale, (2)
And fiery Edward routed stout St John, (3) When Randolph's war-cry swelld the southern gale, (4)
And many a fortress, town, and tower, was won, And Fame still sounded forth fresh deeds of glory done.
XXXIV. « Bring here,» he said, « the mazers four, My noble fathers loved of yore. (9) Thrice let them circle round the board, The pledge, fair Scotland's rights restored ! And he whose lip shall touch the wine, Without a vow as true as mine, To hold both lands and life at nought, Until her freedom shall be bought,Be brand of a disloyal Scot, And lasting infamy his lot!
II. Blithe tidings flew from baron's tower, To peasani's cot, to forest bower, And waked the solitary cell, Where lone Saint Bride's recluses dwell. Princess no more, fair Isabel,
A vot'ress of the order now, Say, did the rule that bid thee wear Dim veil and woollen scapulaire, And reft thy locks of dark-brown hair,
That stern and rigid vow,
Did it condemn the transport high,
The speechless page to Arran's shore ; • Nor think that long the quaint disguise
Conceald her from a sister's eyes;
With menace deep and dread;
Round the pale pilgrim's head.
Resolved the brunt to bide,
To combat at his side,
To battle for the right!
All bound them for the fight.
To that lone island's shore;-
His son retain'd do more,
And they took term of truce, (5)
To yield them to the Bruce.
To summon prince and peer,
With buckler, brand, and spear.
Forth marshalld for the field;
With banner, blade, and shield!
For Neustria's knigbes obey'd,
rude Dark Ech O'Connor sway'd. (8)
Hath been to Isabel -
The cheerless convent-cell
On happier fortunes fell.
Long since that mood is gone:
Forgive him for thine own!»—
VII. « No! never lo Lord Ronald's bower Will I again as paramour--»
Nay, hush thee, too impatient maid, Until my final tale be said ! The good King Robert would engage Edith once more his elfin page, By her own heart, and her own eye, Her lover's penitence to trySafe in his royal charge, and free, Should such thy final purpose be,