370

On the wet sands and quiet bay.
Beneath the rocks King Robert drew
His scattered files to order due,
Till shield compact and serried spear
In the cool light shone blue and clear.
Then down a path that sought the tide
That speechless page was seen to glide;
He knelt him lowly on the sand,
And gave a scroll to Robert's hand.
'A torch,' the monarch cried,What, ho!
Now shall we Cuthbert's tidings know.'
But evil news the letters bear,

The Clifford's force was strong and ware,
Augmented too, that very morn,

By mountaineers who came with Lorn. 380
Long harrowed by oppressor's hand,
Courage and faith had fled the land,
And over Carrick, dark and deep,
Had sunk dejection's iron sleep.
Cuthbert had seen that beacon flame,
Unwitting from what source it came.
Doubtful of perilous event,
Edward's mute messenger he sent,
If Bruce deceived should venture o'er,
To warn him from the fatal shore.

XVI

890

400

As round the torch the leaders crowd, Bruce read these chilling news aloud. 'What council, nobles, have we now? To ambush us in greenwood bough, And take the chance which fate may send To bring our enterprise to end? Or shall we turn us to the main As exiles, and embark again?' Answered fierce Edward, 'Hap what may, In Carrick Carrick's lord must stay. I would not minstrels told the tale Wildfire or meteor made us quail.' Answered the Douglas, 'If my liege May win yon walls by storm or siege, Then were each brave and patriot heart Kindled of new for loyal part.' Answered Lord Ronald, Not for shame Would I that aged Torquil came And found, for all our empty boast, Without a blow we fled the coast. I will not credit that this land, So famed for warlike heart and hand, The nurse of Wallace and of Bruce, Will long with tyrants hold a truce.' Prove we our fate: the brunt we'll bide!' So Boyd and Haye and Lennox cried; So said, so vowed the leaders all; So Bruce resolved: And in my hall

410

Now ask you whence that wondrous light, Whose fairy glow beguiled their sight? It ne'er was known - yet gray-haired eld A superstitious credence held

That never did a mortal hand

Wake its broad glare on Carrick strand; 430
Nay, and that on the selfsame night
When Bruce crossed o'er still gleams the
light.

Yearly it gleams o'er mount and moor
And glittering wave and crimsoned shore —
But whether beam celestial, lent
By Heaven to aid the king's descent,
Or fire hell-kindled from beneath
To lure him to defeat and death,
Or were it but some meteor strange
Of such as oft through midnight range, 440
Startling the traveller late and lone,

I know not- and it ne'er was known.

XVIII

Now up the rocky pass they drew,
And Ronald, to his promise true,
Still made his arm the stripling's stay,
To aid him on the rugged way.
'Now cheer thee, simple Amadine !
Why throbs that silly heart of thine?'—
That name the pirates to their slave-
In Gaelic 't is the Changeling - gave-450
'Dost thou not rest thee on my arm?
Do not my plaid-folds hold thee warm?
Hath not the wild bull's treble hide
This targe for thee and me supplied?
Is not Clan-Colla's sword of steel?
And, trembler, canst thou terror feel?
Cheer thee, and still that throbbing heart;
From Ronald's guard thou shalt not
part.'-

O! many a shaft at random sent
Finds mark the archer little meant ! 460
And many a word at random spoken

May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!

Half soothed, half grieved, half terrified,
Close drew the page to Ronald's side;
A wild delirious thrill of joy

Was in that hour of agony,

As up the steepy pass he strove, Fear, toil, and sorrow, lost in love!

XIX

o'er;

And from the castle's distant wall,

480

From tower to tower the warders call: The sound swings over land and sea, And marks a watchful enemy. They gained the Chase, a wide domain Left for the castle's sylvan reign Seek not the scene; the axe, the plough, The boor's dull fence, have marred it now, But then soft swept in velvet green The plain with many a glade between, Whose tangled alleys far invade The depth of the brown forest shade. Here the tall fern obscured the lawn, Fair shelter for the sportive fawn; There, tufted close with copse wood green, Was many a swelling hillock seen; And all around was verdure meet For pressure of the fairies' feet. The glossy holly loved the park, The yew-tree lent its shadow dark, And many an old oak, worn and bare, With all its shivered boughs was there. Lovely between, the moonbeams fell On lawn and hillock, glade and dell. The gallant monarch sighed to see These glades so loved in childhood free, Bethinking that as outlaw now

He ranged beneath the forest bough.

XX

490

Fast o'er the moonlight Chase they sped. Well knew the band that measured tread

When, in retreat or in advance,
The serried warriors move at once;
And evil were the luck if dawn
Descried them on the open lawn.
Copses they traverse, brooks they cross,
Strain up the bank and o'er the moss.
From the exhausted page's brow
Cold drops of toil are streaming now;
With effort faint and lengthened pause,
His weary step the stripling draws.

Nay, droop not yet!' the warrior said;
Come, let me give thee ease and aid!
Strong are mine arms, and little care
A weight so slight as thine to bear.

500

510

What! wilt thou not? - capricious boy!Then thine own limbs and strength employ Pass but this night and pass thy care, I'll place thee with a lady fair, Where thou shalt tune thy lute to tell How Ronald loves fair Isabel!' Worn out, disheartened, and dismayed, Here Amadine let go the plaid; His trembling limbs their aid refuse, He sunk among the midnight dews!

XXI

What may be done?- the night is gone — The Bruce's band moves swiftly onEternal shame if at the brunt Lord Ronald grace not battle's front!See yonder oak within whose trunk Decay a darkened cell hath sunk; Enter and rest thee there a space, Wrap in my plaid thy limbs, thy face. I will not be, believe me, far, But must not quit the ranks of war. Well will I mark the bosky bourne, And soon, to guard thee hence, return. — Nay, weep not so, thou simple boy! But sleep in peace and wake in joy.' In sylvan lodging close bestowed, He placed the page and onward strode 54 With strength put forth o'er moss and brook,

And soon the marching band o'ertook.

tell!

550

What, silent? — then I guess thee well, The spy that sought old Cuthbert's cell, Wafted from Arran yester morn Come, comrades, we will straight return. Our lord may choose the rack should teach To this young lurcher use of speech. Thy bow-string, till I bind him fast.'Nay, but he weeps and stands aghast; Unbound we'll lead him, fear it not; 'Tis a fair stripling, though a Scot.' The hunters to the castle sped, And there the hapless captive led.

XXIII

Stout Clifford in the castle-court
Prepared him for the morning sport;
And now with Lorn held deep discourse,
Now gave command for hound and horse.
War-steeds and palfreys pawed the ground,
And many a deer-dog howled around.
To Amadine Lorn's well-known word
Replying to that Southern lord,
Mixed with this clanging din, might seem
The phantasm of a fevered dream.
The tone upon his ringing ears

Came like the sounds which fancy hears
When in rude waves or roaring winds
Some words of woe the muser finds,
Until more loudly and more near
Their speech arrests the page's ear.

XXIV

And was she thus,' said Clifford, 'lost?
The priest should rue it to his cost!
What says the monk?'— 'The holy sire
Owns that in masquer's quaint attire
She sought his skiff disguised, unknown
To all except to him alone.

But, says the priest, a bark from Lorn
Laid them aboard that very morn,
And pirates seized her for their prey.
He proffered ransom gold to pay
And they agreed - but ere told o'er,
The winds blow loud, the billows roar;
They severed and they met no more.
He deems such tempests vexed

coast

Ship, crew, and fugitive were lost.
So let it be, with the disgrace
And scandal of her lofty race!
Thrice better she had ne'er been born
Than brought her infamy on Lorn!'

XXV

570

580

590

the

Lord Clifford now the captive spied;-
Whom, Herbert, hast thou there?' he

cried.

A spy we seized within the Chase, A hollow oak his lurking-place.' What tidings can the youth afford? 'He plays the mute.'

cord

600

'Then noose a

Unless brave Lorn reverse the doom
For his plaid's sake.' - 'Clan - Colla's

loom,'

Said Lorn, whose careless glances trace Rather the vesture than the face,

'Clan-Colla's dames such tartans twine;
Wearer nor plaid claims care of mine.
Give him, if my advice you crave,
His own scathed oak; and let him wave
In air unless, by terror wrung,
A frank confession find his tongue.
Nor shall he die without his rite;
Thou, Angus Roy, attend the sight,
And give Clan-Colla's dirge thy breath
As they convey him to his death.'.
"O brother! cruel to the last !'
Through the poor captive's bosom passed
The thought, but, to his purpose true,
He said not, though he sighed, ‘Adieu !'

XXVI

And will he keep his purpose still In sight of that last closing ill,

610

620

When one poor breath, one single word,
May freedom, safety, life, afford?
Can he resist the instinctive call
For life that bids us barter all ? —
Love, strong as death, his heart hath
steeled,

Since that poor breath, that little word, 630
May yield Lord Ronald to the sword.
Clan-Colla's dirge is pealing wide,
The griesly headsman's by his side;
Along the greenwood Chase they bend,
And now their march has ghastly end!
That old and shattered oak beneath,
They destine for the place of death.
What thoughts are his, while all in vain
His eye for aid explores the plain?
What thoughts, while with a dizzy ear 640
He hears the death-prayer muttered near?
And must he die such death accurst,

Or will that bosom-secret burst?

Cold on his brow breaks terror's dew,
His trembling lips are livid blue;
The agony of parting life

Has nought to match that moment's strife!

A ringlet of the stripling's hair; But till I give the word forbear. Douglas, lead fifty of our force Up yonder hollow water-course, And couch thee midway on the wold, Between the flyers and their hold: A spear above the copse displayed, Be signal of the ambush made. Edward, with forty spearmen straight Through yonder copse approach the gate, And when thou hear'st the battle-din Rush forward and the passage win, Secure the drawbridge, storm the port, 670 And man and guard the castle-court. The rest move slowly forth with me, In shelter of the forest-tree, Till Douglas at his post I see.'

XXVIII

680

Like war-horse eager to rush on,
Compelled to wait the signal blown,
Hid, and scarce hid, by greenwood bough,
Trembling with rage stands Ronald now,
And in his grasp his sword gleams blue,
Soon to be dyed with deadlier hue.
Meanwhile the Bruce with steady eye
Sees the dark death-train moving by,
And heedful measures oft the space
The Douglas and his band must trace,
Ere they can reach their destined ground.
Now sinks the dirge's wailing sound,
Now cluster round the direful tree
That slow and solemn company,
While hymn mistuned and muttered

Hemmed in, hewed down, they bled and died.

Deep in the ring the Bruce engaged, And fierce 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.

XXX

,

Not on their flight pressed Ronald's brand, A gentler duty claimed his hand. He raised the page where on the plain His fear had sunk him with the slain: And twice that morn surprise well near Betrayed the secret kept by fear; Once when with life returning came To the boy's lip Lord Ronald's name, 720 And hardly recollection drowned The accents in a murmuring sound; And once when scarce he could resist The chieftain's care to loose the vest Drawn tightly o'er his laboring breast. But then the Bruce's bugle blew, For martial work was yet to do.

The valiant Clifford is no more;
On Ronald's broadsword streamed his gore.
But better hap had he of Lorn,
Who, by the foeman backward borne,
Yet gained with slender train the port
Where lay his bark beneath the fort,
And cut the cable loose.

Short were his shrift in that debate,
That hour of fury and of fate,

If Lorn encountered Bruce!
Then long and loud the victor shout
From turret and from tower rung out,
The rugged vaults replied;
And from the donjon tower on high
The men of Carrick may descry
Saint Andrew's cross in blazonry
Of silver waving wide!

XXXIII

770

781

The Bruce hath won his father's hall! —
'Welcome, brave friends and comrades all,
Welcome to mirth and joy!
The first, the last, is welcome here,
From lord and chieftain, prince and peer,
To this poor speechless boy.

Great God! once more my sire's abode
Is mine-behold the floor I trode

In tottering infancy!

790

And there the vaulted arch whose sound Echoed my joyous shout and bound In boyhood, and that rung around To youth's unthinking glee! 0, first to thee, all-gracious Heaven, Then to my friends, my thanks be given !'

He paused a space, his brow he crossed Then on the board his sword he tossed, Yet steaming hot; with Southern gore From hilt to point 't was crimsoned o'er.

810

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 820
To the wild confines of Cape-Wrath;
Wide let the news through Scotland
ring,-

The Northern Eagle claps his wing!'