Fair Edith heard the Southern shout,
Beheld them turning from the rout,
Heard the wild call their trumpets sent,
In notes 'twixt triumph and lament.
That rallying force, combined anew,
Appear'd, in her distracted view,

To hem the isles-men round; "O God! the combat they renew,

And is no rescue found!

And ye that look thus tamely on,

And see your native land o'erthrown,

O! are your hearts of flesh or stone?"

xxx.

The multitude that watch'd afar,

Rejected from the ranks of war,

Had not unmoved beheld the fight,

When strove the Bruce for Scotland's right;

Each heart had caught the patriot spark,

Old man and stripling, priest and clerk,

Bondsman and serf; even female hand

Stretch'd to the hatchet or the brand;

But, when mute Amadine they heard
Give to their zeal his signal-word,

A frenzy fired the throng;

"Portents and miracles impeach

Our sloth-the dumb our duties teach

And he that gives the mute his speech,

Can bid the weak be strong.

To us, as to our lords, are given

A native earth, a promised heaven;

To us, as to our lords, belongs

The

vengeance

for our nation's wrongs;

The choice, 'twixt death or freedom, warms Our breasts as theirs-To arms, to arms !". To arms they flew,-axe, club, or spear,

And mimic ensigns high they rear,

And, like a banner'd host afar,

Bear down on England's wearied war.

XXXI.

Already scatter'd o'er the plain,

Reproof, command, and counsel vain,
The rearward squadrons fled amain,

Or made but doubtful stay;

But when they mark'd the seeming show

Of fresh and fierce and marshall'd foe,

The boldest broke array.

O give their hapless prince his due!
In vain the royal Edward threw

His person 'mid the spears,

Cried "Fight!" to terror and despair,
Menaced, and wept, and tore his hair,

And cursed their caitiff fears;

Till Pembroke turned his bridle rein,
And forced him from the fatal plain.

With them rode Argentine, until
They gained the summit of the hill,
But quitted there the train :---

1

"In yonder field a gage I left,—

I must not live of fame bereft ;

I needs must turn again.

Speed hence, my Liege, for on your trace

The fiery Douglas takes the chace,

I know his banner well.

God send my Sovereign joy and bliss,
And many a happier field than this!---

Once more, my Liege, farewell."

XXXII.

Again he faced the battle-field,

Wildly they fly, are slain, or yield.

"Now then," he said, and couch'd his spear, • My course is run, the goal is near ; One effort more, one brave career,

Must close this race of mine."

Then in his stirrups rising high,
He shouted loud his battle-cry,
"Saint James for Argentine !"

And, of the bold pursuers, four

The gallant knight from saddle bore;

But not unharm'd-a lance's point

Has found his breast-plate's loosen'd joint,

An axe has razed his crest;

Yet still on Colonsay's fierce lord,

Who press'd the chace with gory sword,
He rode with spear in rest,

And through his bloody tartans bored,
And through his gallant breast.

Nail'd to the earth, the mountaineer

Yet writhed him up against the spear,

And swung

his broad-sword round!

-Stirrup, steel-boot, and cuish gave way,

Beneath that blow's tremendous sway,

The blood gush'd from the wound;

And the grim Lord of Colonsay

Hath turn'd him on the ground,

And laugh'd in death-pang, that his blade

The mortal thrust so well repaid.