II.
Artornish ! such a silence sunk
Upon thy halls, when that grey Monk
His prophet-speech had spoke;
And his obedient brethren's sail
Was stretch'd to meet the southern gale
Before a whisper woke.
Then murmuring sounds of doubt and fear,
Close pour’d in many an anxious ear,
The solemn stillness broke; . And still they gazed with eager guess, Where, in an oriel's deep recess, The Island Prince seem'd bent to press What Lorn, by his impatient cheer, And gesture fierce, scarce deign'd to hear.
Starting at length with frowning look,
His hand he clench’d, his head he shook,
And sternly flung apart;
“ And deem'st thou me so mean of mood, As to forget the mortal feud, And clasp the hand with blood embrued
From my dear Kinsman's heart? Is this thy rede?-a due return For ancient league and friendship sworn! But well our mountain proverb shows The faith of Islesmen ebbş and flows. Be it even so believe, ere long, He that now bears shall wreak the wrong.Call Edith-call the Maid of Lorn!
My sister, slaves !-for further scorn,
Be sure nor she nor I will stay.-
Away, De Argentine, away!
We nor ally nor brother know,
In Bruce's friend, or England's foe."
But who the Chieftain's rage can tell,
When, sought com lowest dungeon celļ
To highest tower the castle round,
No Lady Edith was there found !
He shouted, « Falsehood !--treachery!
Revenge and blood I-a lordly meed
To him that will avenge the deed !
A Baron's lands !"- His frantic mood
Was scarcely by the news withstood,
That Morag shared his sister's flight,
And that, in hurry of the night,
'Scaped noteless, and without-remark,
Two strangers sought the Abbot's bark.-
66 Man every galley!.fly pursue !
The priest his treachery shall rue !
Ay, and the time shall quickly come,
When we shall hear the thanks that Rome
Will pay his feigned prophecy!”-
Such was fierce Lorn's indignant cry;
And Cormac Doil in haste obey'd,
Hoisted his sail, his anchor weigh’d,
(For, gład of each prètext for spoil,
A pirate sworn was Cormac Doil.)
But others, lingering, spoke apart
6 The Maid has given her maiden heart
To Ronald of the Isles
And, fearful lest her brother's word
Bestow her on that English Lord,
She seeks Iona's piles,
And wisely deems it best to dwell
A votaress in the holy cell,
Until these feuds so fierce and fell
The Abbot reconciles.”
. V. As, impotent of ire, the hall Echoed to Lorn's impatient call, « My horse, my mantle, and my train ! Let none who honours Lorn remain !"Courteous, but stern, a bold request To Bruce de Argentine express'd.
6 Lord Earl,” he said," I cannot chuse
But yield such title to the Bruce,
Though name and earldom both are gone,.
Since he braced rebels armour on-
But, Earl or Serf-rude phrase was thine
Of late, and launch'd at Argentine;
Such as compels me to demand
Redress of honour at thy hand,
We need not to each other tell,
That both can wield their weapons well ;
Then do me but the soldier grace,
This glove upon thy helm to place
Where we may meet in fight;
And I will say, as still I've said,
Though by ambitìon far misled,
Thou art a noble knight."
“ And I,” the princely Bruce replied, 66 Might term it stain on knighthood's pride,
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