XV. "Young Lord," the Royal Bruce replied, "That question must the Church decide; Yet seems it hard, since rumours state Edith takes Clifford for her mate, The very tie, which she hath broke, The mood of woman who can tell? I guess the Champion of the Rock, That knight unknown, to whom the prize She dealt,-had favour in her eyes; But since our brother Nigel's fate, Our ruin'd house and hapless state, From worldly joy and hope estranged, Much is the hapless mourner changed. Perchance," here smiled the noble King, "This tale may other musings bring. 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, But through his fingers, long and slight, 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, Or speed on errand to my love; For well I wot thou wilt not tell 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. Thou art a patron all too wild And thoughtless, for this orphan child. Fitter by far in yon calm cell To tend our sister Isabel, With father Augustin to share The peaceful change of convent prayer, Than wander wild adventures through, With such a reckless guide as you.”— "Thanks, brother!" Edward answer'd gay, "For the high laud thy words convey ! But we may learn some future day, If thou or I can this poor boy Protect the best, or best employ. Meanwhile, our vessel nears the strand; Launch we the boat, and seek the land." XVIII. To land King Robert lightly sprung, And thrice aloud his bugle rung With note prolong'd and varied strain, Till bold Ben-ghoil replied again. 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 |