Dwarf's swart hands thy metal twine? Or, mortal-moulded, comest thou here, From England's love, or France's fear? XII. Song continued. "No!-thy splendours nothing tell Foreign art or faëry spell. Moulded thou for monarch's use, By the over-weening Bruce, When the royal robe he tied Thence in triumph wert thou torn, "When the gem was won and lost, Widely was the war-cry toss'd! Rung aloud Bendourish Fell, When the homicide, o'ercome, Hardly 'scaped with scathe and scorn, Left the pledge with conquering Lorn! XIII. Song concluded, "Vain was then the Douglas brand, Vain the Campbell's vaunted hand, Vain Kirkpatrick's bloody dirk, Making sure of murder's work; Barendown fled fast away, Fled the fiery De la Haye, When this broach, triumphant borne, Beam'd upon the breast of Lorn. "Farthest fled its former Lord, Left his men to brand and cord, Bloody brand of Highland steel, English gibbet, axe, and wheel. Let him fly from coast to coast, Dogg'd by Comyn's vengeful ghost, Long shall grace victorious Lorn !" XIV. As glares the tiger on his foes, Hemm'd in by hunters, spears, and bows, Selects the object of his spring, Now on the bard, now on his Lord, So Edward glared and grasp'd his swordBut stern his brother spoke,-"Be still. "What! art thou yet so wild of will, After high deeds and sufferings long, To chafe thee for a menial's song ? Well hast thou framed, Old Man, thy strains, To praise the hand that pays thy pains; Yet something might thy song have told As underneath his knee he lay, For future lays a fair excuse, To speak more nobly of the Bruce." XV. "Now, by Columba's shrine, I swear, And every saint that's buried there, "Tis he himself!" Lorn sternly cries, Shelter and shield of the distress'd, No slaughter-house for ship-wreck'd guest." With armed hand and scornful brow! |