That the bright sword of Argentine Should in a tyrant's quarrel shine; But, for your brave request, Be sure the honour'd pledge you gave In every battle-field shall wave Upon my helmet-crest ; Believe, that if my hasty tongue Hath done thine honour causeless It shall be well redress'd. Not dearer to my soul was glove, wrong, Than this which thou hast given ! Thus, then, my noble foe I greet; And then-what pleases Heaven.”— VII. Thus parted they-for now, with sound Like waves roll'd back from rocky ground, The friends of Lorn retire; Each mainland chieftain, with his train, Draws to his mountain towers again, Pondering how mortal schemes prove vain, And mortal hopes expire. But through the castle double guard, By Ronald's charge, kept wakeful ward, By beam and bolt and chain; Then of the guests, in courteous sort, He pray'd excuse for mirth broke short, And bade them in Artornish fort In confidence remain. Now torch and menial tendance led Chieftain and knight to bower and bed, And beads were told, and aves said, And soon they sunk away Into such sleep, as wont to shed Oblivion on the weary head, After a toilsome day. VIII. But soon up-roused, the Monarch cried To Edward slumbering by his side, "Awake, or sleep for aye! Even now there jarr'd a secret door- Up, Edward, up, I say! Some one glides in like midnight ghost -Nay, strike not ! 'tis our noble Host."- Advancing then his taper's flame, Ronald stept forth, and with him came To Bruce in sign of fealty, And proffer'd him his sword, And hail'd him, in a monarch's stile, As king of mainland and of isle, And Scotland's rightful lord. "And O," said Ronald, " Own'd of Heaven! Say, is my erring youth forgiven, By falsehood's arts from duty driven, Who rebel falchion drew, Yet ever to thy deeds of fame, Even while I strove against thy claim, Paid homage just and true?"— "Alas! dear youth, the unhappy time," Answer'd the Bruce, " must bear the crime, Since, guiltier far than you, Even I"-he paused; for Falkirk's woes Upon his conscious soul arose. The Chieftain to his breast he press'd, And in a sigh conceal'd the rest. IX. They proffer'd aid, by arms and might, But well their counsels must be weigh'd, In answer, Bruce his purpose bold "The winter worn in exile o'er, I thought upon my native Ayr, Where valiant Lennox gathers head, And on the sea, by tempest toss'd, Our barks dispersed, our purpose cross'd, Far from her destined course had run, Compell❜d us to your friendly towers." X. Then Torquil spoke: "The time craves speed! We must not linger in our deed, |