To Argentine she turn'd her word, The safety of my lovely bride My bride ?"--but there the accents clung In tremor to his fault'ring tongue. XX. Now rose De Argentine, to claim The prisoners in his sovereign's name, To England's crown, who, vassals sworn, 'Gainst their liege lord had weapon borne→→ (Such speech, I ween, was but to hide His care their safety to provide; For knight more true in thought and deed. Than Argentine ne'er spurr'd a steed) And Ronald, who his meaning guess'd, Seem'd half to sanction the request...! Hath whisper'd of a lawful claim, That calls the Bruce fair Scotland's Lord, This craves reflection-but though right Where she has power;-in towers like these, 'Midst Scottish Chieftains summon'd here. To bridal mirth and bridal cheer, Be sure, with no consent of mine, Shall either Lorn or Argentine With chains or violence, in our sight, Oppress a brave and banish'd knight." XXI. Then waked the wild debate again, With brawling threat and clamour vain. Lent their brute rage to swell the din; Angels have met him on the way, And by Columba's stone. His monks have heard their hymnings high Sound from the summit of Dun-Y, To cheer his penance lone, When at each cross, on girth and wold, (Their number thrice an hundred-fold,) His prayer he made, his beads he told, E With Aves many a one He comes our feuds to reconcile, A sainted man from sainted isle; The Abbot shall our strife decide.". XXII. Scarcely this fair accord was o'er, When through the wide revolving door The black-stoled brethren wind; Twelve sandall'd monks, who reliques bore, With many a torch-bearer before, And many a cross behind. Then sunk each fierce up-lifted hand, And dagger bright and flashing brand Dropp'd swiftly at the sight; They vanish'd from the Churchman's eye, As shooting stars, that glance and die, Dart from the vault of night. XXIII. The Abbot on the threshold stood, And in his hand the holy rood; Back on his shoulders flow'd his hood, Shew'd, in its red and flashing light,. His wither'd cheek and amice white, His blue eye glistening cold and bright, His tresses scant and grey. "Fair Lords," he said, " Our Lady's love, And peace be with you from above, And Benedicite! -But what means this? no peace is here !— Do dirks unsheathed suit bridal cheer? Or are these naked brands A seemly shew for Churchman's sight, 'Betrothed hearts and hands ?” |