Soon shall we know-yon mountains hide The little convent of Saint Bride; There, sent by Edward, she must stay, Till fate shall give more prosperous day; And thither will I bear thy suit, Nor will thine advocate be mute." XVI. As thus they talk'd in earnest mood, Thoughtless as brave, with bluntness kind He sought to cheer the sorrower's mind; From those poor eyes that stream'd with dew. ('Twas a rough grasp, though meant in love,) Away his tears the warrior swept, And bade shame on him that he wept. "I would to Heaven, thy helpless tongue Could tell me who hath wrought thee wrong! For, were he of our crew the best, The insult went not unredress'd. Come, cheer thee; thou art now of age To be a warrior's gallant page; Thou shalt be mine!-a palfrey fair O'er hill and holt my boy shall bear, To hold my bow in hunting grove, The temple where my wishes dwell.”. XVII. Bruce interposed," Gay Edward, no, This is no youth to hold thy bow, To fill thy goblet, or to bear Thy message light to lighter fair. And thoughtless, for this orphan child. Keeps lonely couch, and lonely meals? To tend our sister Isabel, With father Augustin to share The peaceful change of convent prayer, gay, If thou or I can this poor boy Protect the best, or best employ. Meanwhile, our vessel nears the strand; XVIII. To land King Robert lightly sprung, With note prolong'd, and varied strain, Good Douglas then, and De la Haye, Had in a glen a hart at bay, And Lennox cheer'd the laggard hounds, When waked that horn the green-wood bounds. "It is the foe!" cried Boyd, who came In breathless haste with eye on flame,"It is the foe!-Each valiant lord Fling by his bow, and grasp his sword!""Not so," replied the good Lord James, "That blast no English bugle claims. Oft have I heard it fire the fight, XIX. Fast to their mates the tidings spread, Whose helmets press'd their hoary hair, From life-blood of the red-hair'd Dane; And boys, whose hands scarce brook'd to wield The heavy sword or bossy shield. |