Old Stirling's towers arose in light,
And, twined in links of silver bright,

Her winding river lay.
Ah, gentle planet ! other sight
Shall greet thee, next returning night,
Of broken arms and banners tore,
And marshes dark with human gore,
And piles of slaughter'd men and horse,
And Forth that floats the frequent corse,
And many a wounded wretch to plain
Beneath thy silver light in vain !
But now, from England's host, the cry
Thou hear'st of wassail revelry,
While from the Scottish legions pass
The murmur'd

prayer, the early mass !Here, numbers had presumption given ; There, bands o'er-match'd sought aid from Heaven.

XX.

On Gillie’s-hill, whose height commands
The battle-field, fair Edith stands,

With serf and page unfit for war,

Το eye

the conflict from afar.

O! with what doubtful agony

She sees the dawning tint the sky !
Now on the Ochils gleams the sun,
And glistens now Demayet dun ;
Is it the lark that carols shrill,

Is it the bittern's early hum?
No !_distant, but increasing still,
The trumpet's sound swells up the hill,

With the deep murmur of the drum.
Responsive from the Scottish host,
Pipe-clang and bugle-sound were toss'd,
His breast and brow each soldier cross'd,

And started from the ground; Arm’d and array'd for instant fight, Rose archer, spearman, squire and knight, And in the pomp of battle bright

The dread battalia frown'd.

XXI.

Now onward, and in open view,

1

The countless ranks of England drew,

Dark rolling like the ocean-tide,
When the rough west hath chafed his pride,
And his deep roar sends challenge wide

To all that bars his way!
In front the gallant archers trode,
The men-at-arms behind them rode,
And midmost of the phalanx broad

The Monarch held his sway.
Beside him many a war-horse fumes,
Around him waves a sea of plumes,
Where many a knight in battle known,
And

spurs

had first braced on,
And deem'd that fight should see them won,

King Edward's hests obey.
De Argentine attends his side,
With stout De Valence, Pembroke's pride,

some who

Selected champions from the train,
To wait upon his bridle-rein.
Upon the Scottish foe he gazed-
-At once, before his sight amazed,

Sunk banner, spear, and shield;
Each weapon-point is downward sent,
Each warrior to the ground is bent.
“ The rebels, Argentine, repent !

For pardon they have kneelid.”-
“ Aye !— but they bend to other powers,
And other pardon sue than ours !
See where yon bare-foot Abbot stands,
And blesses them with lifted hands!

Upon the spot where they have kneeld,

These men will die, or win the field.”—

.66 Then prove we if they die or win ! Bid Gloster's Earl the fight begin.”

XXII.

Earl Gilbert waved his truncheon high,

Just as the Northern ranks arose,

Signal for England's archery

To halt and bend their bows.

Then stepp'd each yeoman forth a pace,
Glanced at the intervening space,

And raised his left hand high ; To the right ear the cords they bring- At once ten thousand bow-strings ring,

Ten thousand arrows fly!

Nor paused on the devoted Scot

The ceaseless fury of their shot;

As fiercely and as fast, Forth whistling came the grey-goose wing, As the wild hail-stones pelt and ring

Adown December's blast.

Nor mountain targe of tough bull-hide, Nor lowland mail, that storm may bide; Woe, woe to Scotland's banner'd pride,

If the fell shower may last ! Upon the right, behind the wood, Each by his steed dismounted, stood

The Scottish chivalry ;