XXII.

Now, in the Castle-park, drew out

Their chequered bands the joyous route.
There morricers, with bell at heel,

And blade in hand, their mazes wheel;

But chief, beside the butts, there stand

Bold Robin Hood and all his band,-
Friar Tuck with quarter-staff and cowl,
Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl,

Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone,

Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John;

Their bugles challenge all that will,
In archery to prove their skill.

The Douglas bent a bow of might,—

His first shaft centered in the white,

And when in turn he shot again,

His second split the first in twain.

From the King's hand must Douglas take
A silver dart, the archers' stake;

Fondly he watched, with watery eye,
Some answering glance of sympathy,-

No kind emotion made reply!

Indifferent as to archer wight,

The Monarch gave the arrow bright.

XXIII.

Now, clear the Ring! for, hand to hand,

The manly wrestlers take their stand.
Two o'er the rest superior rose,
And proud demanded mightier foes,
Nor called in vain; for Douglas came.
For life is Hugh of Larbert lame,

Scarce better John of Alloa's fare,

Whom senseless home his comrades bear.

Prize of the wrestling match, the King

To Douglas gave a golden ring,

While coldly glanced his eye of blue,

As frozen drop of wintry dew.

P

Douglas would speak, but in his breast

His struggling soul his words suppress'd: Indignant then he turned him where

Their arms the brawny yeomen bare,

To hurl the massive bar in air.

When each his utmost strength had shewn,
The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone

From its deep bed, then heaved it high,
And sent the fragment through the sky,
A rood beyond the farthest mark ;-
And still in Stirling's royal park,

The grey-haired sires, who know the past,

To strangers point the Douglas-cast,

And moralize on the decay

Of Scottish strength in modern day.

XXIV.

The vale with loud applauses rang,

The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang;

The King, with look unmoved, bestowed
A purse well filled with pieces broad.
Indignant smiled the Douglas proud,

And threw the gold among the crowd,
Who now, with anxious wonder, scan,
And sharper glance, the dark grey man;
Till whispers rose among the throng,
That heart so free, and hand so strong,
Must to the Douglas blood belong :

The old men mark'd, and shook the head,

To see his hair with silver spread,

And winked aside, and told each son

Of feats upon the English done,

Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand

Was exiled from his native land.

The women praised his stately form,

Though wreck'd by many a winter's storm;

The youth with awe and wonder saw

His strength surpassing Nature's law.

Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd,

Till murmur rose to clamours loud.
But not a glance from that proud ring
Of peers who circled round the King,
With Douglas held communion kind,
Or called the banished man to mind;
No, not from those who, at the chase,
Once held his side the honoured place,
Begirt his board, and, in the field,

Found safety underneath his shield;

For he, whom royal eyes disown,

When was his form to courtiers known!

XXV.

The Monarch saw the gambols flag,

And bade let loose a gallant stag,

Whose pride, the holiday to crown,

Two favourite grey-hounds should pull down,

That venison free, and Bourdeaux wine,

Might serve the archery to dine.