II. Blithe tidings flew from Baron's tower, To peasant's cot, to forest-bower, And waked the solitary cell, Where lone Saint Bride's recluses dwell. Princess no more, fair Isabel, A vot'ress of the order now, Say, did the rule that bid thee wear Dim veil and woollen scapulare, And reft thy locks of dark-brown hair, Did it condemn the transport high, And whose the lovely form, that shares No sister she of convent shade; So say these locks in lengthen'd braid, 1 So say the blushes and the sighs, The tremors that unbidden rise, When, mingled with the Bruce's fame, The brave Lord Ronald's praises came. III. Believe, his father's castle won, And his bold enterprise begun, That Bruce's earliest cares restore The speechless page to Arran's shore; Unnamed, unknown, while Scotland far Resounded with the din of war ; And many a month, and many a day, In calm seclusion wore away. IV. These days, these months, to years had worn, When tidings of high weight were borne To that lone island's shore; Of all the Scottish conquests made By the first Edward's ruthless blade, His son retain❜d no more, Northward of Tweed, but Stirling's towers, Beleaguer'd by King Robert's powers; And they took term of truce, If England's King should not relieve The siege ere John the Baptist's eve, England was roused-on every side To summon prince and peer, P At Berwick-bounds to meet their Liege, Prepared to raise fair Stirling's siege, With buckler, brand, and spear. The term was nigh-they muster'd fast, Forth marshall'd for the field; And not famed England's powers alone, For Neustria's knights obey'd, And Cambria, but of late subdued, Sent forth her mountain-multitude, And Connoght pour'd from waste and wood Her hundred tribes, whose sceptre rude Dark Eth O'Connor sway'd. V. Right to devoted Caledon The storm of war rolls slowly on, With menace deep and dread; So the dark clouds, with gathering power, Suspend a while the threaten'd shower, Till every peak and summit lower Round the pale pilgrim's head. Not with such pilgrim's startled eye Resolved the brunt to bide, His royal summons warn'd the land, That all who own'd their King's command Should instant take the spear and brand, To combat at his side. O who may tell the sons of fame, That at King Robert's bidding came, To battle for the right! |