To us, as to our lords, are given
A native earth, a promised heaven;
To us, as to our lords, belongs

The vengeance for our nation's wrongs;
The choice, 'twixt death or freedom, warms
Our breasts as theirs-To arms, to arms!"-
To arms they flew,-axe, club, or spear,
And mimic ensigns high they rear,
And, like a bannered host afar,
Bear down on England's wearied war.

XXXI

Already scattered o'er the plain,
Reproof, command, and counsel vain,
The rearward squadrons fled amain,
Or made but doubtful stay ;-
But when they marked the seeming show
Of fresh and fierce and marshalled foe,
The boldest broke array.

O give their hapless prince his due!
In vain the royal Edward threw y
His person 'mid the spears,
Cried "Fight!" to terror and despair,
Menaced, and wept, and tore his hair,
And cursed their caitiff fears;
Till Pembroke turned his bridle rein,
And forced him from the fatal plain.
With them rode Argentine, until
They gained the summit of the hill,
But quitted there the train:—
"In yonder field a gage I left,-
I must not live of fame bereft;
I needs must turn again.

Speed hence, my Liege, for on your trace
The fiery Douglas takes the chase,

I know his banner well.

God send my Sovereign joy and bliss,
And many a happier field than this!-

Once more, my Liege, farewell."

The followers of the Scottish camp observed, from the Gillies'-hill in the rear, the impression produced upon the English army by the bringing up of the Scottish reserve, and, prompted by the enthusiasm of the moment, or the desire of plunder, assumed, in a tumultuary manner, such arms as they found nearest, fastened sheets to tent-poles and lances, and showed themselves like a new army advancing to battle.

y Edward II., according to the best authorities, showed, in the fatal field of Bannockburn, personal gallantry not unworthy of his great sire and greater son. He remained on the field till forced away by the earl of Pembroke, when all was lost. He then rode to the castle of Stirling, and demanded admittance; but the governor remonstrating upon the imprudence of shutting himself up in that fortress, which must so soon surrender, he assembled around his person five hundred men-at-arms, and, avoiding the field of battle and the victorious army, ed towards Linlithgow, pursued by Douglas with about sixty horse.

XXXII

Again he faced the battle-field,
Wildly they fly, are slain, or yield.

"Now then," he said, and couched his spear,
My course is run, the goal is near;
One effort more, one brave career,

Must close this race of mine."
Then in his stirrups rising high,
He shouted loud his battle-cry,

"Saint James for Argentine!"
And, of the bold pursuers, four
The gallant knight from saddle bore;
But not unharmed-a lance's point
Has found his breast-plate's loosened joint,
An axe has razed his crest;
Yet still on Colonsay's fierce lord,
Who pressed the chase with gory sword,
He rode with spear in rest,

And through his bloody tartans bored,
And through his gallant breast.
Nailed to the earth, the mountaineer
Yet writhed him up against the spear,

And swung his broad-sword round!
-Stirrup, steel-boot, and cuish gave way,
Beneath that blow's tremendous sway,

The blood gushed from the wound;
And the grim Lord of Colonsay

Hath turned him on the ground,
And laughed in death-pang, that his blade
The mortal thrust so well repaid.

XXXIII

Now toiled the Bruce, the battle done,
To use his conquest boldly won;
And gave command for horse and spear
To press the Southron's scattered rear,
Nor let his broken force combine,

-When the war-cry of Argentine
Fell faintly on his ear!

"Save, save his life," he cried, "O save
The kind, the noble, and the brave!"-
The squadrons round free passage gave,
The wounded knight drew near.
He raised his red-cross shield no more,
Helm, cuish, and breastplate streamed with gore,
Yet, as he saw the King advance,

He strove even then to couch his lance

The effort was in vain!

The spur-stroke failed to rouse the horse;
Wounded and weary, in mid course

He stumbled on the plain.

Then foremost was the generous Bruce
To raise his head, his helm to loose:-

"Lord Earl, the day is thine!
My Sovereign's charge, and adverse fate,
Have made our meeting all too late:
Yet this may Argentine,

As boon from ancient comrade, crave-
A Christian's mass, a soldier's grave."-

XXXIV

Bruce pressed his dying hand-its grasp
Kindly replied; but, in his clasp,
It stiffened and grew cold-

And, "O farewell!" the victor cried,
"Of chivalry the flower and pride,
The arm in battle bold,

The courteous mien, the noble race,
The stainless faith, the manly face!-
Bid Ninian's convent light their shrine,
For late-wake of De Argentine.

O'er better knight on death-bier laid,
Torch never gleamed nor mass was said!"-

XXXV

Nor for De Argentine alone,

Through Ninian's church these torches shone, And rose the death-prayer's awful tone.

That yellow lustre glimmered pale,

On broken plate and bloodied mail,
Rent crest and shattered coronet,
Of Baron, Earl, and Banneret;

And the best names that England knew,
Claimed in the death-prayer dismal due.
Yet mourn not, Land of Fame!
Though ne'er the leopards on thy shield
Retreated from so sad a field,

Since Norman William came.

Oft may thine annals justly boast
Of battles stern by Scotland lost;
Grudge not her victory,

When for her free-born rights she strove;
Rights dear to all who freedom love,
To none so dear as thee!

XXXVI

Turn we to Bruce, whose curious ear
Must from Fitz-Louis tidings hear;
With him, a hundred voices tell

Of prodigy and miracle,

66

For the mute Page had spoke."

"Page!" said Fitz-Louis, "rather say, An angel sent from realms of day,

To burst the English yoke.

I saw his plume and bonnet drop,.

When hurrying from the mountain top;
A lovely brow, dark locks that wave,
To his bright eyes new lustre gave,
A step as light upon the green,

As if his pinions waved unseen!"

Spoke he with none ?"-" With none-one word Burst when he saw the Island Lord,

Returning from the battle field."

"What answer made the Chief?"-" He kneeled,
Durst not look up, but muttered low,

Some mingled sounds that none might know,
And greeted him 'twixt joy and fear,
As being of superior sphere."-

XXXVII

Even upon Bannock's bloody plain,
Heaped then with thousands of the slain,
'Mid victor monarch's musings high,
Mirth laughed in good King Robert's eye.
"And bore he such angelic air,
Such noble front, such waving hair?
Hath Ronald kneeled to him?" he said,
"Then must we call the church to aid-
Our will be to the Abbot known,
Ere these strange news are wider blown,
To Cambuskenneth straight he pass,
And deck the church for solemn mass,
To pay, for high deliverance given,
A nation's thanks to gracious Heaven.
Let him array, besides, such state
As should on princes' nuptials wait.
Ourself the cause, through fortune's spite,
That once broke short that spousal rite,
Ourself will grace, with early morn,
The bridal of the Maid of Lorn."

CONCLUSION.

Go forth, my Song, upon thy venturous way;
Go boldly forth; nor yet thy master blame,
Who chose no patron for his humble lay,

And graced thy numbers with no friendly name,
Whose partial zeal might smooth thy path to fame.
There was and O! how many sorrows crowd
Into these two brief words!-there was a claim

By generous friendship given-had fate allowed, It well had bid thee rank the proudest of the proud!

All angel now-yet little less than all,

While still a pilgrim in our world below! What 'vails it us that patience to recall,

Which hid its own, to soothe all other woe; What 'vails to tell, how VIRTUE's purest glow Shone yet more lovely in a form so fair;And, least of all, what 'vails the world should know, That one poor garland, twined to deck thy hair, is hung upon thy hearse, to droop and wither there!