Men too were there, that bore the scars Impress'd in Albyn's woeful wars, At Falkirk's fierce and fatal fight, And he in many a peril tried, Alike resolved the brunt to bide, And live or die by Bruce's side! XX. Oh, War! thou hast thy fierce delight, Thy gleams of joy, intensely bright! Such gleams, as from thy polish'd shield Fly dazzling o'er the battle-field! Such transports wake, severe and high, Amid the pealing conquest-cry; Scarce less, when, after battle lost, And as each comrade's name they tell, And who, when waked with note of fire, When, scanty reliques of the train XXI. 'Tis morning, and the Convent bell Long time had ceased its matin knell, Within thy walls, Saint Bride! An aged Sister sought the cell Assign'd to Lady Isabel, And hurriedly she cried, "Haste, gentle Lady, haste-there waits A noble stranger at the gates; Saint Bride's poor vot'ress ne'er has seen A Knight of such a princely mien ; His errand, as he bade me tell, Is with the Lady Isabel." The princess rose,-for on her knee "Let him by thee his purpose teach; I may not give a stranger speech." "Saint Bride forefend, thou royal Maid!" The portress cross'd herself, and said, "Not to be prioress might I Debate his will, his suit deny." "Has earthly show then, simple fool, Power o'er a sister of thy rule, And art thou, like the worldly train, Subdued by splendours light and vain ?” XXII. "No, Lady! in old eyes like mine, It is the form, the eye, the word, His giant-strength seems lightsome ease. His locks upon his forehead twine, Has ta'en the youthful hue away. Weather and war their rougher trace Have left on that majestic face ; But 'tis his dignity of eye! There, if a suppliant, would I fly, Secure, 'mid danger, wrongs, and grief, Of sympathy, redress, relief That glance, if guilty, would I dread More than the doom that spoke me dead!” Enough, enough," the princess cried, " "Tis Scotland's hope, her joy, her pride! |