Now, good my Licge, and brother sage, What think ye of mine elfin page ?'

Row on the noble King replied, "We'll learn the truth whate'er betide; Yet sure the beadsman and the child Could ne'er have waked that beacon wild!'

XIV.

With that the boats approach'd the land,
But Edward's grounded on the sand;
The eager knight leap'd in the sea
Waist-deep, and first on shore was he,
Though every barge's hardy band
Contended which should gain the land,
When that strange light, which, seen afar,
Seem'd steady as the polar star,
Now, like a prophet's fiery chair,
Seem'd travelling the realms of air.
Wide o'er the sky the splendour glows,
As that portentous meteor rose;
Helm, axe, and falchion glitterd'd bright,
And in the red and dusky light
His comrade's face each warrior saw,
Nor marvell'd it was pale with awe.
Then high in air the beams were lost,
And darkness sunk upon the coast.-
Ronald to Heaven a prayer address'd,
And Douglas crossed his dauntless breast;,
Saint James protect us! Lennox cried,
But reckless Edward spoke aside,
Deem'st thou, Kirkpatrick, in that flame
Red Comyn's angry spirit came,
Or would thy dauntless heart endure
Once more to make assurance sure?"

The attack and capture of the fortress is also admirable for the energy and briefness with which it is described. It will be remembered that Douglas was to give the signal upon his reaching the copse-covered path, between the party that attended the execution of the dumb page, and the castle.

What glances o'er the green-wood shade?-The spear that marks the ambuscade! Now, noble chief! I leave thee loose; Upon them, Ronald!' said the Bruce.

XXIX.

The Bruce, the Bruce!' to well-known cry His native rocks and woods reply.

The Bruce, the Bruce!' in that dread word The knell of hundred deaths was heard. The astonish'd Southern gazed at first, Where the wild tempest was to burst, That waked in that presaging name. Before, behind, around it came! Half-arm'd, surprised, on every side Hemm'd in, hew'd down, they bled and died. Deep in the ring the Bruce engaged, And tierce Clan-Colla's broadsword raged! Full soon the few who fought were sped, Nor better was their lot who fled, And met, 'mid terror's wild career,

The Douglas's redoubted spear!

Two hundred yeomen on that morn
The castle left, and none return."

the prince, with that customary recklessness which

"oft made good,

Even by its daring, venture rude,

Where prudence might have fail'd,"

has march'd to the assault before the ap pointed signal;

"Upon the bridge his strength he threw, And struck the iron chain in two

By which its planks arose;

The warder next his axe's edge
Struck down upon the threshold ledge,
"Twixt door and post a ghastly wedge!
The gate they may not close.
Well fought the Southern in the fray,
Clifford and Lorn fought well that day,
But stubborn Edward forced his way
Against an hundred foes.

Loud came the cry, The Bruce, the Bruce
No hope or in defence or truce,

Fresh combatants pour in;
Mad with success, and drunk with gore,
They drive the struggling foe before,

And ward on ward they win.
Unsparing was the vengeful sword,
And limbs were lopp'd and life-blood pour'd,
The cry of death and conflict roar'd,

And fearful was the din;

The startling horses plunged and flung,
Clamour'd the dogs till turrets rung,

Nor sunk the fearful cry,

Till not a foeman was there found
Alive, save those who on the ground
Groan'd in their agony!

פין

When the king hath "won his father's hall," himself and his friends take a short repast. The Bruce, while the wine is circling, gives the pledge, "FAIR SCOTLAND'S RIGHTS RESTORED,"

"And he whose lip shall touch the wine,
Without a vow as true as mine,
To hold both lands and life at nought,
Until her freedom shall be bought,-
Be brand of a disloyal Scot,
And lasting infamy his lot!
Sit, gentle friends! our hour of glee
Is brief, we'll spend it joyously!
Blithest of all the sun's bright beams,
When betwixt storm and storm he gleams.
Well is our country's work begun,
But more, far more, must yet be done!
Speed messengers the country through;
Arouse old friends, and gather new;
Warn Lanark's knights to gird their mail,
Rouse the brave sons of Teviotdale,
Let Ettrick's archers sharp their darts,
The fairest forms, the truest hearts!
Call all, call all! from Reedswair path,
To the wild confines of Cape-Wrath;
Wide let the news through Scotland ring,
The Northern Eagle claps his wing!'-

The dream and death of Allan struck us, both in conception and execution, as one of the sweetest passages in the poem. When his turn of watching arrives, the

poor page soon begins to feel the approach of sleep.

"Again he rous'd him-on the lake
Look'd forth, where now the twilight-flake
Of pale cold dawn began to wake.
On Coolin's cliffs the mist lay furl'd,
The morning breeze the lake had curl'd,
The short dark waves, heaved to the land,
With ceaseless plash kiss'd cliff or sand;-
It was a slumb'rous sound-he turn'd
To tales at which his youth had burn'd,
Of pilgrim's path by demon cross'd,
Of sprightly elf or yelling ghost,
Of the wild witch's baneful cot,
And mermaid's alabaster grot,
Who bathes her limbs in sunless well
Deep in Strathaird's enchanted cell.
Thither in fancy rapt he flies,
And on his sight the vaults arise;
That hut's dark walls he sees no more,
His foot is on the marble floor,
And o'er his head the dazzling spars
Gleam like a firmament of stars!
-Hark! hears he not the sea-nymph speak
Her anger in that thrilling shriek ?—
No! all too late, with Allan's dream
Mingled the captive's warning scream!
As from the ground he strives to start,
A ruthian's dagger finds his heart!
Upward he casts his dizzy eyes, . · ·
Murmurs his master's name,... and dies!"

The battle is given with Mr. Scott's usual felicity in scenes of this nature. Indeed, the animation and truly martial spirit with which the whole is narrated, bring the varying incidents of the combat full before our eyes, and cannot fail to inspire in the reader a corresponding glow. While the numerous and gay host of the enemy are preparing for the attack, the Bruce orders mass to be performed, and when the Scottish army supplicate on their knees the assistance and protection of heaven in the coming conflict, the English monarch interprets their devotional attitude into a signal of submission. When his mistake is corrected by De Argentine, he directs the archers under Gloucester to begin the fight!

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 gray-goose wing,
As the wild hail-stones pelt and ring
Adown December's blast.

Nor mountain targe of tongh 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;-
-With foot in stirrup, hand on mane,
Fierce Edward Bruce can scarce restrait
His own keen heart, his eager train,
Until the archers gain'd the plain;

Then, Mount, ye galants free!'
He cried; and, vaulting from the ground,
His saddle every horseman found.
On high their glittering crests they toss,
As springs the wild fire from the moss;
The shield hangs down on every breast.
Each ready lance is in the rest,

And loud shouts Edward Bruce,'Forth Marshal, on the peasant foe! We'll tame the terrors of their bow,

And cut the bow-string loose !-
XXIII.

Then spurs were dash'd in chargers' flanks.
They rush'd among the archer ranks,
No spears were there the shock to let,
No stakes to turn the charge were set,
And how shall yeoman's armour slight
Stand the long lance and mace of might
Or what may their short swords avail,
'Gainst barbed horse and shirt of mail?
Amid their ranks the chargers sprung,
High o'er their heads the weapons swung,
And shriek and groan and vengeful shout
Give note of triumph and of rou!

Awhile, with stubborn hardihood,
Their English hearts the strife made good;
Borne down at length on every side,
Compell'd to flight they scatter wide.-
Let stags of Sherwood leap for glee,
And bound the deer of Dallom-Lee!

The broken bows of Bannock's shore
Shall in the green-wood ring no more!
Round Wakefield's merry may-pole now,
The maids may twine the summer bough,
May northward look with longing glance,
For those that wont to lead the dance,
For the blithe archers look in vain!
Broken, dispersed, in flight o'erta'en,
Pierced through, trode down, by thousands slain,
They cumber Bannock's bloody plain.
XXIV.

The King with scorn beheld their flight.

Are these,' he said, our yeomen wight?
Each braggart churi could boast before,
Twelve Scottish lives his baldric bore!
Fitter to plunder chase or park,
Than make a manly foe their mark.-
Forward, each gentleman and knight !
Let gentle blood show generous might,
And chivalry redeem the fight!'—

To rightward of the wild affray,
The field show'd fair and level way;
But, in mid space, the Bruce's care
Had bored the ground with many a pit,
With turf and brush wood hidden yet,

That form'd a ghastly snare.
Rushing, ten thousand horsemen came,
With spears in rest, and hearts on flame,
That panted for the shock!
With blazing crests and bauners spread,
And trumpet-clang and clamour dread,
The wide plain thunder'd to their tread.
As far as Stirling rock

Down! down! in headlong overthrow,
Horseman and horse, the foremost go,

Wild floundering on the field!
The first are in destruction's gorge,
Their followers wildly o'er them urge;-
The knightly helm and shield,
The mail, the acton, and the spear,
Strong hand, high heart, are useless here! .
Loud from the mass confused the cry
Of dying warriors swells on high,
And steeds that shriek in agony!
They came like mountain-torrent
That thunders o'er its rocky bed;
They broke like that same torrent's wave,
When swallow'd by a darksome cave.
Billows on billows burst and boil,
Mantaining still the stern turmoil,
And to their wild and tortured groan
Each adds new terrors of his own;
XXV.

red,

Too strong in courage and in might
Was England yet, to yield the fight.
Her noblest all are here;
Names that to fear were never known,
Bold Norfolk's Earl De Brotherton,

And Oxford's famed De Vere.
There Gloster plied the bloody sword,
And Berkley, Grey, and Hereford,

Bottetourt and Sanzavere,

Ross, Montague, and Mauley, came,
And Courtenay s pride, and Percy's fame-
Names known too well in Scotland's war,
At Falkirk, Methven, and Dunbar,
Blazed broader yet in after years,
At Cressy red and fell Poitiers.
Pembroke with these, and Argentine,
Brought up the rearward battle-line.
With caution o'er the ground they tread,
Slippery with blood and piled with dead,
Till hand to hand in battle set,

The bills with spears and axes met,
And, closing dark on every side,
Raged the full contest far and wide."
Then was the strength of Douglas tried,
Then proved was Randolph's generous pride,
And well did Stewart's actions grace
The sire of Scotland's royal race!

Firmly they kept their ground;
As firmly England onward press'd,
And down went many a noble crest,
And rent was many a valiant breast,
And Slaughter revell'd round.
XXVI.
Unflinching foot 'gainst foot was set,
Unceasing blow by blow was met;

The groans of those who fell
Were drown'd amid the shriller clang,
That from the blades and harness rang,

And in the battle-yell.
Yet fast they fell, unheard, forgot,
Both Southern fierce and hardy Scot;-
And O! amid that waste of life,
What various motives fired the strife!
The aspiring Noble bled for fame,
The Patriot for his country's claim;
This Knight his youthful strength to prove,
And that to win his lady's love;
Some fought from ruffian thirst of blood,
From habit some, or hardihood.
But ruffian stern and soldier good

The noble and the slave,

From various cause the same wild road,
On the same bloody morning, trode,
To that dark inn the Grave!

XXVII.

The tug of strife to flag begins,
Though neither loses yet nor wins,
High rides the sun, thick rolls the dust,
And feebler speeds the blow and thrust.
Douglas leans on his war-sword now,
And Randolph wipes his bloody brow,
Nor less had toil'd each Southern knight,
From morn till mid-day in the fight.
Strong Egremont for air must gasp,
Beauchamp undoes his visor-clasp,
And Montague must quit his spear,
And sinks thy falchion bold De Vere!
The blows of Berkley fall less fast,
And Gallant Pembroke's bugle blast
Hath lost its lively tone;

Sinks, Argentine, thy battle-word,
And Percy's shout was fainter heard,
'My merry-men, fight on!--
XXVIII.

Bruce with the pilot's wary eye,
The slack ning of the storm could spy.
'One effort more, and Scotland's free!
Lord of the isles my trust in thee

Is firm as Ailsa-rock:
Rush on with Highland sword and targe,
I, with my Carrick spearmen, charge;
Now, forward to the shock!"

At once the spears were forward thrown,
Against the sun the broad-swords shone;
The pibroch lent its maddening tone,
And loud King Robert's voice was known-
'Carrick press on-they fail, they fail!
Press on, brave sons of Innisgail,

The foe is fainting fast!

Each strike for parent, child and wife,
For Scotland, liberty, and life,-

The battle cannot last!

Edith, stationed on the hill with the camp-followers, hears the cry of the rallying host, and the notes of their trumpets, 'twixt triumph and lament;" and fearful of the event, passionately calls upon them to join their countrymen in the field.

66

"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."

To each canto are prefixed introductory verses. Of these the best are those opening the first, fourth, and fifth cantos. Those of the second are passable; of the third we may say the same-while those of the sixth are decidedly very inferior. We quote those of the fourth canto-a lofty tribute of admiration to the stupendous and solitary scenery of Scotland. "Stranger! if e'er thine ardent step hath traced

The northern realms of ancient Caledon, Where the proud Queen of Wilderness hath placed,

By lake and cataract, her lonely throne; Sublime but sad delight thy soul hath known, Gazing on pathless glen and mountain high, Listing where from the cliffs the torrents thrown Mingle their echoes with the eagle's cry, And with the sounding lake, and with the moan. ing sky.