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... XIX. . . The barrier of that iron shore, The rock’s steep ledge, is now climb'd o'er; And from the castle's distant wall, !! From tower to tower the warders call: The sound swings 'over land and sea, . And marks a watchful enemy.- . . They gain'd the Chase, a wide domain Left for the Castle's sylvan reign, -i. (Seek not the scene-the axe, the plough, The boor's dull fence, have marr'd 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 faun; . 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 shiver'd boughs, was there.
Lovely between, the moon-beams fell
On lawn and hillock, glade and dell.
The gallant Monarch sigh'd to see
These glades so loved in childhood free,
Bethinking that, as outlaw now,
He ranged beneath the forest bough.

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Fast o'er the moon-light 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 lengthen'd pause,
His weary step the stripling draws.
5 Nay, droop not yet !" the warrior said;
66 Come, let me give thee ease and aid ! ,'
Strong are mine arms, and little care
A weight so slight as thine to bear.
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, dishearten'd, and dismayd,
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 on-
Eternal shame, if at the brunt
Lord Ronald grace not battle's front !-
66 See yonder oak, within whose trunk
Decay' a darken’d 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 bestow'd,
He placed the page, and onward strode
With strength put forth, o'er moss and brook,
And soon the marching band o'ertook.

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XXII. Thus strangely left, long sobb’d and wept . The page, till, wearied out, he sleptA rough voice waked his dream-“ Nay, here, Here by this thicket, pass'd the deerBeneath that oak old Ryno staidWhat have we here ?-a Scottish plaid, And in its folds a stripling laid ?Come forth! thy name and business tell ! What, silent?-then I guess thee well, The spy that sought old Cuthbert's cell, Wafted from Arran yester mornCome, comrades, we will strait 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.”—

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