For me, that widow's mate expires, For me, that orphans weep their sires, That patriots mourn insulted laws, And curse the Douglas for the cause. O let your patience ward such ill, And keep your right to love me still!" XXIX. The crowd's wild fury sunk again In tears, as tempests melt in rain. For blessings on his generous head, Who for his country felt alone, And prized her blood beyond his own. 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 hill he led, And at the Castle's battled verge, With sighs, resigned his honoured charge. 235 XXX. The offended Monarch rode apart, With bitter thought and swelling heart, With like acclaim they hailed 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. O who would wish to be thy king!— XXXI. "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 Dhu, Has summoned his rebellious crew; 'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune, Till for such danger he provide, With scanty train you will not ride." XXXII. "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; We do forbid the intended war; Roderick, this morn, in single fight, 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. XXXIII. Ill 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. |