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De Bruce, thy sacrilegious blow
Hath at God's altar slain thy foe:
O’ermaster'd yet by high behest,
I bless thee, and thou shalt be bless'd !"-
He spoke, and o’er the astonish'd throng
Was silence, awful, deep, and long.

XXXII.

Again that light has fired his eye,
Again his form swells bold and high,
The broken voice of

age

is

gone, 'Tis vigorous manhood's lofty tone :“Thrice vanquish'd on the battle-plain, Thy followers slaughter'd, fled, or ta’en, A hunted wanderer on the wild, On foreign shores a man exiled, Disown'd, deserted, and distress'd, I bless thee, and thou shalt be bless'd ; Bless'd in the hall and in the field,

Under the mantle as the shield.

Avenger of thy country's shame,
Restorer of her injured fame,
Bless'd in thy sceptre and thy sword,
De Bruce, fair Scotland's rightful Lord,
Bless'd in thy deeds and in thy fame,
What lengthen'd honours wait thy name!
In distant ages, sire to son
Shall tell thy tale of freedom won,
And teach his infants, in the use
Of earliest speech, to faulter Bruce.
Go, then, triumphant! sweep along
Thy course, the theme of many a song !
The Power, whose dictates swell my breast,
Hath bless'd thee, and thou shalt be bless'd !-
Enough-my short-lived strength decays,
And sinks the momentary blaze.-
Heaven hath our destined purpose broke,
Not here must nuptial vow be spoke;
Brethren, our errand here is o'er,
Our task discharged.-Unmoor, unmoor !"-

His priests received the exhausted Monk, As breathless in their arms he sunk.

Punctual his orders to obey,
The train refused all longer stay,
Embark’d, raised sail, and bore away.

END OF CANTO SECOND.

THE

LORD OF THE ISLES.

CANTO THIRD.

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