Soon as the dire lament was play'd, It waked the lurking ambuscade. The Island Lord look'd forth, and spied "By Heaven they lead the page to die, And mock me in his agony ! They shall abye it !"-On his arm Bruce laid strong grasp, "They shall not harm A ringlet of the stripling's hair; But, till I give the word, forbear. A spear above the copse display'd, Rush forward, and the passage win, Secure the drawbridge-storm the port 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. Like war-horse eager to rush on, Compell'd to wait the signal blown, Hid, and scarce hid, by green-wood bough, Trembling with rage, stands Ronald now, And in his grasp his sword gleams blue, Soon to be dyed with deadlier hue.- Now sinks the dirge's wailing sound, That slow and solemn company, While hymn mistuned and mutter'd prayer 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, 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 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 ! The castle left, and none return. XXX. Not on their flight press'd Ronald's brand, A gentler duty claim'd 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 Once, when, with life returning, came The accents in a murmuring sound; Drawn tightly o'er his labouring breast. But then the Bruce's bugle blew, For martial work was yet to do. XXXI. A harder task fierce Edward waits. Ere signal given, the castle gates His fury had assail'd; Such was his wonted reckless mood, Even by its daring, venture rude, Where prudence might have fail❜d. 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. |