Imágenes de páginas


The Monarch saw the gambols flag,
And bade let loose a gallant stag,
Whose pride, the holiday to crown,
Two favorite greyhounds should pull down,
That venison free and Bourdeaux wine
Might serve the archery to dine.

But Lufra, whom from Douglas' side
Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide,
The fleetest hound in all the North, -
Brave Lufra saw and darted forth.
She left the royal hounds midway,
And dashing on the antler'd prey,
Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank,
And deep the flowing life-blood drank.
The King's stout huntsman saw the sport
By strange intruder broken short,
Came up, and with his leash unbound,
In anger struck the noble hound.
The Douglas had endured, that morn,
The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn,
And last, and worst to spirit proud,
Had borne the pity of the crowd;
But Lufra had been fondly bred
To share his board, to watch his bed,
And oft would Ellen Lufra's neck

In maiden glee with garlands deck;

They were such playmates, that, with name
Of Lufra, Ellen's image came.

His stifled wrath is brimming high
In darken'd brow and flashing eye;
As waves before the bark divide,

The crowd gave way before his stride;
Needs but a buffet, and no more:
The groom lies senseless in his gore.
Such blow no other hand could deal,
Though gauntleted in glove of steel.


Then clamor'd loud the royal train,
And brandish'd swords and staves amain;
But stern the Baron's warning: "Back!
Back, on your lives, ye menial pack!
Beware the Douglas. - Yes! behold,
King James! the Douglas, doom'd of old,
And vainly sought for near and far,
A victim to atone the war,

A willing victim, now attends,

Nor craves thy grace but for his friends.". "Thus is my clemency repaid?

Presumptuous Lord!" the Monarch said:
"Of thy misproud ambitious clan,
Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man,
The only man, in whom a foe

My woman-mercy would not know;


But shall a Monarch's presence brook
Injurious blow and haughty look? —
What ho! the Captain of our Guard!
Give the offender fitting ward.
Break off the sports!". - for tumult rose,
And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows,

[ocr errors]

"Break off the sports!" he said, and frown'd, "And bid our horsemen clear the ground."


Then uproar wild and misarray
Marr'd the fair form of festal day
The horsemen prick'd among the crowd,
Repell'd by threats and insult loud;
To earth are borne the old and weak,
The timorous fly, the women shriek;
With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar,
The hardier urge tumultuous war
At once round Douglas darkly sweep
The royal spears in circle deep,
And slowly scale the pathway steep,
While on the rear in thunder pour
The rabble with disorder'd roar.
With grief the noble Douglas saw
The Commons rise against the law,
And to the leading soldier said:

"Sir John of Hyndford, 't was my blade
That knighthood on thy shoulder laid
For that good deed permit me then
A word with these misguided men.


"Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me
Ye break the bands of fealty.
My life, my honor, and my cause,
I tender free to Scotland's laws.
Are these so weak as must require
The aid of your misguided ire?
Or if I suffer causeless wrong,
Is then my selfish rage so strong,
My sense of public weal so low,
That, for mean vengeance on a foe,
Those cords of love I should unbind
Which knit my country and my kind?
O, no! Believe, in yonder tower
It will not soothe my captive hour,

To know those spears our foes should dread
For me in kindred gore are red:

To know, in fruitless brawl begun
For me that mother wails her son,
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!"


The crowd's wild fury sunk again
In tears, as tempests melt in rain.
With lifted hands and eyes, they pray'd
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
Bless'd him who stay'd the civil strife;
And mothers held their babes on high,
The self-devoted Chief to spy,
Triumphant over wrongs 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 resign'd his honor'd charge.


The offended Monarch rode apart

With bitter thought and swelling heart,

« AnteriorContinuar »