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And, backwards borne upon the lea,
Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee.

XVL

"Now, yield thee, or, by Him who made The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade! "Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! Let recreant yield who fears to die." Like adder darting from his coil, Like wolf that dashes through the toil, Like mountain-cat who guards her young, Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung, Received, but reck'd not of a wound, And locked his arms his foeman round. Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! No maiden's hand is round thee thrown! That desperate grasp thy frame might feel Through bars of brass and triple steel! They tug, they strain!-down, down, they so, The Gacl above, Fitz-James below! The Chieftain's gripe his throat compress'd, His knee was planted in his breast; His clotted locks he backward threw, Across his brow his hand he drew, From blood and mist to clear his sight, Then gleam'd aloft his dagger bright! But hate and fury ill supplied The stream of life's exhausted tide, And all too late the advantage came, To turn the odds of deadly game; For, while the dagger gleamed on high. Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye Down came the blow! but in the heath The erring blade found bloodless sheath. The struggling foe may now unclasp The fainting Chiet's relaxing grasp; Unwounded from the dreadful close, But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.

XVIL

He faltered thanks to Heaven for life,
Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife;

Next on his foe his look he cast,

Whose every gasp appeared his last;

In Roderick's gore he dipp'd the braid,
"Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid;
Yet with thy foe must die, or live,

The praise that Faith and Valour give.”
With that he blew a bugle-note,
Undid the collar from his throat,
Unbonneted, and by the waye

Sate down his brow and hands to lave.
Then faint afar are heard the feet
Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet;
The sounds increase, and now are seen
Four mounted squires in Lincoln green;
Two who bear lance, and two who lead,
By loosened rein, a saddled steed;
Each onward held his headlong course,
And by Fitz-James rein'd up his horse,
With wonder viewed the bloody spot-
"Exclaim not, gallants! question not
You, Herbert and Luffness, alight,
And bind the wounds of yonder knights
Let the grey palfrey bear his weight,
We destined for a fairer freight,
And bring him on to Stirling straight;
I will before at better speed,
To seek fresh horse and fitting weed.
The sun rides high; I must be boune
To see the archer-game at noon;
But lightly Bayard clears the lea.
De Vaux and Herries, follow me!

XVIII

"Stand, Bayard, stand!" the steed obeyed,
With arching neck and bended head,
And glancing eye, and quivering ear,

As if he loved his lord to hear.
No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid,
No grasp upon the saddle laid,

But wreathed his left hand in the mane,
And lightly bounded from the plain,
Turned on the horse his armed heel,
And stirred his courage with the steel
Bounded the fiery steed in air,
The rider sate erect and fair,

Then, like a bolt, from steel cross-bow
Forth launched, along the plain they go.
They dashed that rapid torrent through,
And up Carbonie's hill they flew;

N

Still at the gallop pricked the Knight,
His merry-men followed as they might.
Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride,
And in the race they mock thy tide;
Torry and Lendrick now are past,
And Deanstown lies behind them cast?
They rise, the bannered towers of Doune,
They sink in distant woodland soon;
Blair-Drummond sees the boofs strike fire,
They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre;
They mark just glance and disappear
The lofty brow of ancient Keir;

They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides,
DarkForth! amid thy sluggish tides,
And on the opposing shore take ground,
With plash, with scramble, and with bound.
Right hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-forth,
And soon the bulwark of the North,
Grey Stirling, with her towers and town,
Upon their fleet career looked down.

XIX.

As up the flinty path they strained,
Sudden his steed the leader reined;
A signal to his squire he flung,

Who instant to his stirrup sprung:

"Seest thou, De Vaux, that woodsman grey,

Who town-ward holds the rocky way,

Of stature tall and poor array?

Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride,

With which he scales the mountain side?

Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom?"

66

'No, by my word;-a burly groom

He seems, who in the field or chase

A Baron's train would nobly grace."

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Out, out, De Vaux! can fear supply
And jealousy, no sharper eye?

Afar, ere to the hill he drew,.
That stately form and step I knew;
Like form in Scotland is not seen,
Treads not such step on Scottish green.
'Tis James of Douglas, by saint Serle!
The uncle of the banished Earl.
Away, away, to court, to show
The near approach of dreaded foe:
The king must stand upon his guard;
Douglas and he must meet prepared."

Then right hand wheeled their steeds, and straight They won the castle's postern gate.

XX.

The Douglas, who had bent his way
From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey grey,
Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf,
Held sad communion with himself:-
"Yes! all is true my fears could frame;
A prisoner lies the noble Græme,
And fiery Roderick soon will feel
The vengeance of the royal steel
I, only I, can ward their fate-
God grant the ransom come not late!
The Abbesshath her promise given,
My child shall be the bride of heaven;-
Be pardoned one repining tear!
For He who gave her, knows how dear,
How excellent-but that is by,
And now my business is to die.
Ye towers! within whose circuit dread
A Douglas by his sovereign bled,
And thou, oh sad and fatal mound!
That oft has heard the death-axe sound,
As on the noblest of the land

Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand-
The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb
Prepare-for Douglas seeks his doom!
But hark! what blithe and jolly peal
Makes the Franciscan steeple reel?
And see! upon the crowded street,
In motley groups what masquers meet!
Banner and pageant, pipe and drum,
And merry morrice-dancers come.
I guess, by all this quaint array,
The burghers hold their sports to-day.
James will be there he loves such show,
Where the good yeoman bends his bow,
And the tough wrestler foils his foe,
As well as where, in proud career,
The high-born tilter shivers spear.
I'll follow to the Castle-park,

And play my prize-King James shall mark,
If age has tamed these sinews stark,
Whose force so oft, in happier days,
His boyish wonder loved to praise."

XXI.

The Castle gates were open flung,
The quivering draw-bridge rocked and rung,
And echoed loud the flinty street
Beneath the coursers' clattering feet,
As slowly down the deep descent
Fair Scotland's King and nobles went,
While all along the crowded way.
Was jubilee and loud huzza.
And ever James was bending low,
To his white jennet's saddle bow,
Doffing his cap to city dame,

Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame,
And well the simperer might be vain-
He chose the fairest of the train.

Gravely he greets each city sire,
Commends each pageant's quaint attire,
Gives to the dancers thanks aloud,
And smiles and nods upon the crowd,
Who rend the heavens with their acclaims,
"Long live the Commons' King, King James!"
Behind the King thronged peer and knight,
And noble dame and damsel bright,.
Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay
Of the steep street and crowded way.
But in the train you might discern
Dark lowering brow and visage stern:
There nobles mourned their pride restrained,
And the mean burghers' joys disdained,
And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan,
Were each from home a banished man,
There thought upon their own grey tower,
Their waving woods, their feudal power,
And deemed themselves a shameful part
Of pageant, which they cursed in heart

XXII

Now in the Castle-park, drew out
Their chequered bands the joyous rout.
There morricers, with bell at heel,
And blade in hand, their mazes wheele
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;

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