Mad with success, and drunk with gore,
They drive the struggling foe before,
And ward on ward they win.
Unsparing was the vengeful sword,

And limbs were lopp'd and life-blood pour'd,
The cry of death and conflict roar'd,

And fearful was the din!

The startling horses plunged and flung,
Clamour'd the dogs till turrets rung,
Nor sunk the fearful cry,

Till not a foeman was there found

Alive, save those who on the ground
Groan'd in their agony!

XXXII.

The valiant Clifford is no more;

On Ronald's broadsword stream'd his gore,
But better hap had he of Lorn,'
Who, by the foeman backward borne,
Yet gain'd with slender train the port,
Where lay his bark beneath the fort,

And cut the cable loose.

Short were his shrift in that debate,
That hour of fury and of fate,

If Lorn encounter'd Bruce!
Then long and loud the victor shout
From turret and from tower rung out,
The rugged vaults replied;

And from the donjon tower on high
The men of Carrick may descry
Saint Andrew's cross, in blazonry

Of silver, waving wide!

mand,

who 30 stay e day— quise Ronald's -nor blame name her name!—

soctude

eyes

is falsehood rued! aad seen pensive mien,

--vause

might know, Edith's woe, dat revolving time Apate the crime. Josom as she said,

sterings be repaid!»-acting hour-a band utains left the land; Louis, (9) had the care Amadine to bear honour, as behoved

onarch dearly loved.

Sit, gentle friends! our hour
Is brief, we 'll spend it jov
Blithest of all the sun's'
When betwixt storm
Well is our country

But more, far mo
Speed messenge
Arouse old fri
Warn Lanar

Rouse the

Let Ettri
The fai
Call 2
To

W

of spears,

the anxious eye

rove in vain, to spy.

in the evening beam,

Lances, bills, and banners gleam; here the heaven join'd with the hill, as distant armour flashing still,

So wide, so far, the boundless host
Seem'd in the blue horizon lost.

XI.
Down from the hill the maiden pass'd,
At the wild show of war aghast;
And traversed first the rear-ward host,
Reserved for aid where needed most.
The men of Carrick and of Ayr,
Lennox and Lanark too, were there,

And all the western land;

With these the valiant of the Isles
Beneath their chieftains rank'd their files, (12)
In many a plaided band.

There, in the centre, proudly raised,
The Bruce's royal standard blazed,
And there Lord Ronald's banner bore
A galley driven by sail and oar.
A wild, yet pleasing contrast, made
Warriors in mail and plate array'd,
With the plumed bonnet and the plaid
By these Hebrideans worn;
But O! unseen for three long years,
Dear was the garb of mountaineers
To the fair Maid of Lorn!
For one she look'd-but he was far
Busied amid the ranks of war-
Yet with affection's troubled eye
She mark'd his banner boldly fly,
Gave on the countless foe a glance,
And thought on battle's desperate chance.
XII.

To centre of the va'ward line
Fitz-Louis guided Amadine.
Arm'd all on foot, that host appears
A serried mass of glimmering spears.
There stood the Marchers' warlike band,
The warriors there of Lodon's land;
Ettrick and Liddel bent the yew,

A band of archers fierce though few;

le,

<< Know'st thou,» he said, « De Argentine,

Yon knight who marshals thus their line?»-«The tokens on his helmet tell

The Bruce, my liege: I know him well.»>—
« And shall the audacious traitor brave
The presence where our banners wave?»-
«So please my liege,» said Argentine,
« Were he but horsed on steed like mine,
To give him fair and knightly chance,
Yould adventure forth my lance.>>
attle-day,» the king replied,

urney rules are set aside.
the rebel dare our wrath?
weep him from our path!»>-
vard's signal, soon

ranks Sir Henry Boune.

n, (13)

eto scan,

to range,

and fronts to change. from head to heel

ready arms of steel;

ated yet on war-horse wight,
il more near the shock of fight,
ening a palfrey low and light.
A diadem of gold was set
Above his bright steel bassinet,
And clasp'd within its glittering twine
Was seen the glove of Argentine;
Truncheon or leading-staff he lacks,
Bearing, instead, a battle-axe.
He ranged his soldiers for the fight,
Accoutred thus, in open sight
Of either host.-Three bowshots far,
Paused the deep front of England's war,
And rested on their arms awhile,
To close and rank their warlike file,
And hold high council, if that night
Should view the strife, or dawning light.

0

XIV.

gay, yet fearful to behold,

Flashing with steel and rough with gold,
And bristled o'er with bills and spears,
With plumes and pennons waving fair,
Was that bright battle-front! for there
Rode England's king and peers:
And who, that saw the monarch ride,
His kingdom battled by his side,
Could then his direful doom foretell!-
Fair was his seat in knightly selle,
And in his sprightly eye was set
Some spark of the Plantagenet.

Though light and wandering was his glance,
It flash'd at sight of shield and lance.

XV.

eford's high blood he came,

race renown'd for knightly fame. He burn'd before his monarch's eye

To do some deed of chivalry.

He spurr'd his steed, he couch'd his lance,

And darted on the Bruce at once.

-As motionless as rocks, that bide

The wrath of the advancing tide,

The Bruce stood fast.-Each breast beat high,
And dazzled was each gazing eye—
The heart had hardly time to think,

The eye-lid scarce had time to wink,
While on the king, like flash of flame,
Spurr'd to full speed the war-horse came!
The partridge may the falcon mock,

If that slight palfrey stand the shock--
But, swerving from the knight's career,
Just as they met, Bruce shunn'd the spear.
Onward the baffled warrior bore

His course-but soon his course was o'er!-
High in his stirrups stood the king,
And gave his battle-axe the swing.

Right on De Boune, the whiles he pass'd,
Fell that stern dint-the first-the last!-
Such strength upon the blow was put,
The helmet crash'd like hazel-nut;
The axe-shaft, with its brazen-clasp,
Was shiver'd to the gauntlet grasp.
Springs from the blow the startled horse,
Drops to the plain the lifeless corse;
First of that fatal field, how soon,
How sudden, fell the fierce De Boune!

XVI.

One pitying glance the monarch sped,
Where on the field his foe lay dead;
Then gently turn'd his palfrey's head,
And, pacing back his sober way,
Slowly he gain'd his own array.

There round their king the leaders crowd,
And blame his recklessness aloud,

That risk'd 'gainst each adventurous spear
A life so valued and so dear.

His broken weapon's shaft survey'd
The king, and careless answer made,—

My loss may pay my folly's tax;
I've broke my trusty battle-axe. »—

His couch my plaid, his fence my targe.»>-
He ceased; for many an eager hand
Had urged the barges from the strand.
Their number was a score and ten,
They bore thrice three-score chosen men.
With such small force did Bruce at last
The die for death or empire cast!

XII.

Now on the darkening main afloat,
Ready and mann'd rocks every boat;
Beneath their oars the ocean's might
Was dash'd to sparks of glimmering light.
Faint and more faint, as off they bore,
Their armour glanced against the shore,
And, mingled with the dashing tide,
Their murmuring voices distant died.-
« God speed them!» said the priest, as dark
On distant billows glides each bark;

« O Heaven! when swords for freedom shine,
And monarch's right, the cause is thine!
Edge doubly every patriot blow!
Beat down the banners of the foe!
And be it to the nations known,
That Victory is from God alone!»>-
As up the hill his path he drew,
He turn'd his blessings to renew,
Oft turn'd, till on the darken'd coast
All traces of their course were lost;
Then slowly bent to Brodick tower,
To shelter for the evening hour.

XIII.

In night the fairy prospects sink,

Where Cumray's isles with verdant link
Close the fair entrance of the Clyde;
The woods of Bute no more descried
Are gone-and on the placid sea
The rowers plied their task with glee,
While hands that knightly lances bore
Impatient aid the labouring oar.

The half-faced moon shone dim and pale,
And glanced against the whiten'd sail;
But on that ruddy beacon-light
Each steersman kept the helm aright,
And oft, for such the king's command,
That all at once might reach the strand,
From boat to boat loud shout and hail
Warn'd them to crowd or slacken sail.
South and by west the armada bore,
And near at length the Carrick shore.
As less and less the distance grows,
High and more high the beacon rose;
The light, that seem'd a twinkling star,
Now blazed portentous, fierce, and far.
Dark-red the heaven above it glow'd,
Dark-red the sea beneath it flow'd,
Red rose the rocks on ocean's brim,
In blood-red light her islets swim;
Wild scream the dazzled sea-fowl gave,
Dropp'd from their crags on plashing wave,
The deer to distant covert drew,
The black-cock deem'd it day, and crew.
Like some tall castle given to flame.
O'er half the land the lustre came.

«Now, good my liege, and brother sage, What think ye of mine c!fin page ?»« Row on!» the noble king replied, << We'll learn the truth whate'er betide; Yet sure the beadsman and the child Could ne'er have waked that beacon wild.»

XIV.

With that the boats approach'd the land,
But Edward's grounded on the sand;
The eager knight leap'd in the sea
Waist-deep, and first on shore was he,
Though every barge's hardy band
Contended which should gain the land,
When that strange light, which, seen afar,
Seem'd steady as the polar star,
Now, like a prophet's fiery chair,
Seem'd travelling the realms of air.
Wide o'er the sky the splendour glows,
As that portentous meteor rose;
Helm, axe, and falchion, glitter'd bright,
And in the red and dusky light
His comrade's face each warrior saw,
Nor marvell'd it was pale with awe.
Then high in air the beams were lost,
And darkness sunk upon the coast.-
Ronald to Heaven a prayer address'd,
And Douglas cross'd his dauntless breast;
« Saint James protect us!»>-Lennox cried,
But reckless Edward spoke aside,

« Deem'st thou, Kirkpatrick, in that flame
Red Comyn's angry spirit came,

Or would thy dauntless heart endure

Once more to make assurance sure?»

« Hush!» said the Bruce, « we soon shall know, If this be sorcerer's empty show,

Or stratagem of southern foe.

The moon shines out-upon the sand
Let every leader rank his band.-

XV.

Faintly the moon's pale beams supply
That ruddy light's unnatural dye;
The dubious cold reflection lay
On the wet sands and quiet bay.
Beneath the rocks King Robert drew
His scatter'd files to order due,
Till shield compact and serried spear
In the cool light shone blue and clear.
Then down a path that sought the tide,
That speechless page was seen to glide;
He knelt him lowly on the sand,
And gave a scroll to Robert's hand.

« A torch,» the monarch cried; « What ho!
Now shall we Cuthbert's tidings know.a-
But evil news the letters bare,
The Clifford's force was strong and ware,
Augmented, too, that very morn,
By mountaineers who came with Lorn.
Long harrow'd by oppressor's hand,
Courage and faith had fled the land,
And over Carrick, dark and deep,
Had sunk dejection's iron sleep.-
Cuthbert had seen that beacon-flame,
Unwitting from what source it came.

As round the torch the leaders crowd, Bruce read these chilling news aloud. What council, nobles, have we now?To ambush 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, « Hap 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 the 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 long 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 rough and rugged host
Clifford may reckon to his cost.
Meantime, through well-known bosk and dell,
I'll lead where we may shelter well.»>-

XVII.

Now ask you whence that wond'rous light,
Whose fairy glow beguiled their sight?—
It ne'er was known (6)—yet gray-hair'd eld
A superstitious credence held,
That never did a mortal hand

Wake its broad glare on Carrick strand;
Nay, and that on the self-same night
When Bruce cross'd o'er, still gleams the light.
Yearly it gleams o'er mount and moor,
And glittering wave and crimson'd shore-

But whether beam celestial, lent

By Heaven to aid the king's descent,
Or fire hell-kindled from beneath,

To lure him to defeat and death,

Or were it but some meteor strange,
Of such as oft through midnight range,
Startling the traveller late and lone,

I know not-and it ne'er was known.

« Now cheer thee, simple Amadine!
Why throbs that silly heart of thine ?>>-
-That name the pirates to their slave,
(In Gaelic 't is the Changeling) gave—
« Dost thou not rest thee on my arm?
Do not my plaid-folds hold thee warm?
Hath not the wild-bull's treble hide
This targe for thee and me supplied?
Is not Clan-Colla's sword of steel?

And, trembler, canst thou terror feel?
Cheer thee, and still that throbbing heart;
From Ronald's guard thou shalt not part.»>—
-O! many a shaft, at random sent,
Finds mark the archer little meant!
And many a word, at random spoken,
May sooth or wound a heart that's broken!
Half sooth'd, half grieved, half terrified,
Close drew the page to Ronald's side;
A wild delirious thrill of joy
Was in that hour of agony,

As up the steepy pass he strove,
Fear, toil, and sorrow, lost in love!

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 tower the warders call: The sound swings over land and sea, And marks a watchful enemy.— They gain'd 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 velvet 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, tufted 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 gallant monarch sigh'd to see Those glades so loved in childhood free, Bethinking that, as outlaw now,

He ranged beneath the forest bough.

XX.

Fast o'er the moon-light chase they sped.
Well knew 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,
Strain 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,
His weary step the stripling draws.

« Nay, droop not yet!» the warrior said;
« Come, let me give thee ease and aid!
Strong are mine arms, and little care
A weight so slight as thine to bear.-
What! wilt thou not?-capricious boy!-
Then thine own limbs and strength employ.
Pass but this night, and pass thy care,
I'll place thee with a lady fair,
Where thou shalt tune thy lute to tell
How Ronald loves fair Isabel!»-
Worn out, dishearten'd and dismay'd,
Here Amadine let go the plaid;

His trembling limbs their aid refuse,
He sunk among the midnight dews!

may

XXI.

What be done?—the night is gone-
The Bruce's band moves swiftly on-
Eternal shame, if at the brunt
Lord Ronald grace not battle's front!-
« See yonder oak, within whose trunk
Decay a darken'd cell hath sunk—
Enter, 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 ranks 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.

XXII.

Thus strangely left, long sobb'd and wept
The page, till, wearied out, he slept.-
A rough voice waked his dream-« Nay, here,
Here by this thicket, pass'd the deer-
Beneath that oak old Ryno staid—
What have we here? a Scottish plaid,
And in its folds a stripling 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 morn―
Come, comrades, we will strait return.
Our lord may chuse the rack should teach
To this young lurcher use of speech.
Thy bow-string, till I bind him fast. »>-

To Amadine, Lorn's well-known word
Replying to that southern lord,
Mix'd with this clanging din, might seem
The phantasm of a fever'd dream.
The tone upon his ringing ears
Came like the sounds which fancy hears,
When in rude waves or roaring winds
Some words of woe the muser finds,
Until more loudly and more near,
Their speech arrests the page's ear.

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, in masquer's quaint attire,
She sought his skiff, disguised, unknown
To all except to him alone.

But, says the priest, a bark from Lora
Laid them aboard that very morn,
And pirates 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 coast-
Ship, 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 Lorn!»

XXV.

Lord Clifford now the captive spied;

« Whom, Herbert, hast thou there?» he cried.

« A spy was seized within the chase, An hollow oak his lurking-place.»>

« What tidings can the youth afford?»

<< He plays the mute.»>«< Then noose a cord-
Unless brave Lorn reverse the doom
For his plaid's sake.»-« Clan-Colla's loom,»
Said Lorn, whose careless glances trace
Rather the vesture than the face,

<< Clan-Colla's dames such tartans twine;
Wearer nor plaid claims care of mine.
Give him, if my advice you crave,
His own scathed oak; and let him wave
In air, unless, by terror wrung,
A frank confession find his tongue-
Nor shall he die without his rite;
-Thou, Angus Roy, attend the sight,
And give Clan-Colla's dirge thy breath,
As they convey him to his death.»—
« O brother! cruel to the last!»-
Through the poor captive's bosom pass'd
The thought, but, to his purpose true,
He said not, though he sigli'd, «< Adieu !»—

XXVI.

And will he keep his purpose still,
In sight of that last closing ill,

When one poor breath, one single word,
May freedom, safety, life, afford?
Can he resist the instinctive call,
For life that bids us barter all!-