And soon cut short the festal song.
Nor less upon the sadden'd town
The evening sunk in sorrow down.
The burghers spoke of civil jar,
Of rumour'd feuds and mountain war,
Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu,
All up in arms :-the Douglas too,

They mourn'd him pent within the hold,
"Where stout Earl William was of old,"―t

And there his word the speaker staid,
And finger on his lip he laid,

Or pointed to his dagger blade.
But jaded horsemen, from the west,
At evening to the Castle press'd;
And busy talkers said they bore
Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore;
At noon the deadly fray begun,
And lasted till the set of sun.

Thus giddy rumour shook the town,
Till closed the night her pennons brown.

Canto Sixth.

The Guard-Room.

I.

HE sun, awakening, through the smoky air

Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, Of sinful man the sad inheritance; Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, Scaring the prowling robber to his den; Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance, And warning student pale to leave his pen,

And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men.

What various scenes, and, O! what scenes of woe,

Are witness'd by that red and struggling

beam !

The fever'd patient, from his pallet low, Through crowded hospitals beholds its

stream;

The ruin'd maiden trembles at its gleam, The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail,

The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream;

The wakeful mother, by the glimmering

pale,

Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail.

II.

T dawn the towers of Stirling rang With soldier-step and weapon-clang, While drums, with rolling note, foretell Relief to weary sentinels,

Through narrow loop and casement barr'd, The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, And, struggling with the smoky air, Deaden'd the torches' yellow glare.

In comfortless alliance shone

The lights through arch of blacken’d stone,
And show'd wild shapes in garb of war,
Faces deform'd with beard and scar,
All haggard from the midnight watch,
And fever'd with the stern debauch;
For the oak table's massive board,
Flooded with wine, with fragments stored,
And beakers drain'd, and cups o'erthrown,
Show'd in what sport the night had flown.
Some, weary, snored on floor and bench;
Some labour'd still their thirst to quench;
Some, chill'd with watching, spread their
hands

O'er the huge chimney's dying brands,
While round them, or beside them flung,
At every step their harness rung.

III.

HESE drew not for their fields the sword,
Like tenants of a feudal lord,+

Nor own'd the patriarchal claim

Of Chieftain in their leader's name ;
Adventurers they, from far who roved,

To live by battle which they loved.
There the Italian's clouded face,

The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace;
The mountain-loving Switzer there

More freely breathed in mountain air ;

The Fleming there despised the soil,

That paid so ill the labourer's toil;

Their rolls show'd French and German

name;

And merry England's exiles came,
To share, with ill-conceal'd disdain,
Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain.
All brave in arms, well train'd to wield
The heavy halbert, brand, and shield;
In camps licentious, wild, and bold;
In pillage, fierce and uncontroll'd;
And now, by holytide and feast,
From rules of discipline released.

IV.

HEY held debate of bloody fray,

Fought 'twixt Loch-Katrine and Achray. Fierce was their speech, and, 'mid their words,