Old men, upon the verge of life,
Blessed him who stayed the civil strife;
And mothers held their babes on high
The self-devoted chief to spy,
Triumphant over wrong and ire,
To whom the prattlers owed a sire:
Even the rough soldier's heart was moved,
As if behind some bier beloved,
With trailing arms and drooping head,
The Douglas up the hil! they led,
And at the castle's battled verge,
With sighs, resigned their honoured charge.
XXX.
The oflended monarch rode apart,
With bitter thought and swelling heart,
And would not now vouchsafe again
Through Stirling streets to lead his train.
"O Lennox, who would wish to rule
This changeling crowd, this common fool!
Hear'st thou," he said, "the loud acclaim,
With which they shout the Douglas name?
With like acclaim, the vulgar throat
Strained for King James their morning note;
With like acclaim they hail the day
When first I broke the Douglas sway;
And like acclaim would Douglas greet,
If he could hurl me from my seat.
Who o'er the herd would wish to reign,
Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain?
Vain as the leaf upon the stream,
And fickle as a changeful dream;
Fantastic as a woman's mood,
And fierce as frenzy's fevered blood.
Thou many-headed monster-thing
O who would wish o be thy king!-
But soft! what messenger of speed Spurs hitherward his panting steed?
I guess his cognizance afar
What from our cousin, John of Mar?"
"He prays my liege, your sports keep bound
Within the safe and guarded ground:
For some foul purpose yet unknown,-
Most sure for evil to the throne,-
The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Db",
Ilas summoned his rebellious crew;
'T'is said, in James of Bothwell's aid
These loose banditti stand arrayed.
The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune,
To break their muster marched, and soon
Your grace will hear of battle fought;
But earnestly the Earl besought,
Till for such danger he provide,
With scanty train you will not ride."-
'Thou warn'st me I have done amiss,-
I should have earlier looked to this;
I lost it in this bustling day.
-Retrace with speed thy former way;
Spare not for spoiling of thy steed,
The best of mine shall be thy meed.
Say to our faithful Lord of Mar,
We do forbid the intended war;
Roderick this morn, in single fight,
Was made our prisoner by a knight,
And Douglas hath himself and cause
Submitted to our kingdom's laws.
The tidings of their leaders lost
Will soon dissolve the mountain host,
Nor would we that the vulgar feel,
For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel.
Bear Mar our message, Braco, fly.'
He turned his steed," My liege, I hie,
Yet, ere I cross this lily lawn,
I fear the broad-swords will be drawn."-
The turf the flying courser spurned,
And to his towers the king returned.
l with King James's mood that day,
Suited gay feast and minstrel lay;
Soon were dismissed the courtly throng,
And soon cut short the festal song.
Nor less upon the saddened town
The evening sunk in sorrow down:
The burghers spoke of civil jar,
Of rumoured feuds and mountain war,
Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu,
All up in arms:-the Douglas too,
They mourned him pent within the hold,
"Where stout Earl William was of old,"*
And there his word the speaker stayed,
And finger on his lip he laid,
Or pointed to his dagger blade.
But jaded horseman from the west,
At evening to the castle pressed;
And busy talkers said they bore
Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore;
At noon the deadly fray begun,
And lasted till the set of sun.
Thus giddy rumour shook the town,
Till closed the Night her pennons brown.
*Stabbed by James I. in Stirling Castle
THE sun, awakening, through the smoky air
Of the dark city casts a sullen glance,
Rousing each caitiff to his task of care,
Of sinful man the sad inheritance;
Summoning revellers from the lagging dance,
And scaring prowling robbers to their den;"
Gliding on battled tower the warder's lance,
And warning student pale to leave his pen,
And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men.
What various scenes, and, O! what scenes of wo, Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam: The fevered patient, from his pallet low,
Through crowded hospitals beholds it stream; The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam,
The debtor wakes to thoughts of gyve and jail, The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream; The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, Trims her sick infant's couch and sooths his fee ble wail.
At dawn the towers of Stirling rang,
With soldier-step and weapon clang,
While drums, with rolling note, foretell
Relief to weary sentinel.
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