And many an old oak, worn and bare,
With all its shiver'd boughs, was there.
Lovely between, the moonbeams fell
On lawn and hillock, glade and dell.
The gallant Monarch sigh'd to see
These glades so loved in childhood free.
Bethinking that, as outlaw now,
He ranged beneath the forest bough.1
Fast o'er the moonlight Chase they sped.
Well knew the band that measured tread,
When, in retreat or in advance,
The serried warriors move at once;
And evil were the luck, if dawn
Descried them on the open lawn.
Copses they traverse, brooks they cross,
Strain up the bank and o'er the moss.
From the exhausted page's brow 2
Cold drops of toil are streaming now;
With effort faint and lengthen'd pause,
His weary step the stripling draws.
"Nay, droop not yet!"4 the warrior said;
"Come, let me give thee ease and aid!
Strong are mine arms, and little care
A weight so slight as thine to bear.-
What! wilt thou not?-capricious boy!
Then thine own limbs and strength employ.
Pass but this night, and pass thy care,
I'll place thee with a lady fair,
Where thou shalt tune thy lute to tell
How Ronald loves fair Isabel!"
Worn out, dishearten'd, and dismay'd,
Here Amadine let go the plaid;
His trembling limbs their aid refuse,5
He sunk among the midnight dews!
What may be done?-the night is gone-
The Bruce's band moves swiftly on-
Eternal shame, if at the brunt
Lord Ronald grace not battle's front!---
"See yonder oak, within whose trunk
Decay a darken'd cell hath sunk;
Enter, and rest thee there a space,
Wrap in my plaid thy limbs, thy face.?
I will not be, believe me, far;
But must not quit the ranks of war.
Well will I mark the bosky bourne,
And soon, to guard thee hence, return.-
Nay, weep not so, thou simple boy!
But sleep in peace, and wake in joy."
In silvan lodging close bestow'd,s
He placed the page, and onward strode
With strength put forth, o'er moss and brook,
And soon the marching band o'ertook.
Thus strangely left, long sobb'd and wept
The page, till, wearied out, he slept-
A rough voice waked his dream-" Nay, here,
Here by this thicket, pass'd the deer-
Beneath that oak old Ryno staid—
What have we here?-a Scottish plaid,
And in its folds a stripling laid?
Come forth thy name and business tell!-
What, silent?-then I guess thee well,
The spy that sought old Cuthbert's cell,
Wafted from Arran yester morn--
Come, comrades, we will straight return.
Our Lord may choose the rack should teach
To this young lurcher use of speech.
Thy bow-string, till I bind him fast."-
"Nay, but he weeps and stands aghast;
Unbound we'll lead him, fear it not;
"Tis a fair stripling, though a Scot."
The hunters to the castle sped,
And there the hapless captive led.
Stout Clifford in the castle-court
Prepared him for the morning sport;
And now with Lorn held deep discourse,
Now gave command for hound and horse."
War-steeds and palfreys paw'd the ground,
And many a deer-dog howl'd around.
To Amadine, Lorn's well-known word
Replying to that Southern Lord,
Mix'd with this clanging din, might seem
The phantasm of a fever'd dream.
The tone upon his ringing ears
Came like the sounds which fancy hears,
When in rude waves or roaring winds Some words of woe the muser finds, Until more loudly and more near, Their speech arrests the page's ear.1
"And was she thus," said Clifford, "lost?
The priest should rue it to his cost!
What says the monk!"-"The holy Sire
Owns, that in masquer's quaint attire
She sought his skiff, disguised, unknown
To all except to him alone.
But, says the priest, a bark from Lorn 2
Laid them aboard that very morn,
And pirates seized her for their prey.
He proffer'd ransom-gold to pay,
And they agreed-but ere told o'er,
The winds blow loud, the billows roar;
They sever'd, and they met no more.
He deems-such tempest vex'd the coast-
Ship, crew, and fugitive, were lost.
So let it be, with the disgrace
And scandal of her lofty race!3
Thrice better she had ne'er been born,
Than brought her infamy on Lorn!"
Lord Clifford now the captive spied ;-
"Whom, Herbert, hast thou there;" he cried.
"A spy we seized within the Chase,
A hollow oak his lurking place."—__1
"What udings can the youth afford?"-
"He plays the mute."" Then noose a cord-
Unless brave Lorn reverse the doom
For his plaid's sake."--" Clan-Colla's loom,"
Said Lorn, whose careless glances trace
Rather the vesture than the face,
"Clan-Colla's dames such tartans twine;
Wearer nor plaid claims care of mine.
Give him, if my advice you crave,
His own scathed oak; and let him wave
In air, unless, by terror wrung,
A frank confession find his tongue.-6
Nor shall he die without his rite;
-Thou, Angus Roy, attend the sight,
And give Clan-Colla's dirge thy breath,
As they convey him to his death."-
"O brother! cruel to the last!"
Through the poor captive's bosom pass'd
The thought, but, to his purpose true
He said not, though he sigh'd," Adieu!"
And will he keep his purpose still,
In sight of that last closing ill,7
When one poor breath, one single word,
May freedom, safety, life, afford?
Can he resist the instinctive call,
For life that bids us barter all?—
Love, strong as death, his heart hath steel'd,
His nerves hath strung-he will not yield!
Since that poor breath, that little word,
May yield Lord Ronald to the sword.-8
Clan-Colla's dirge is pealing wide,
The griesly headsman 's by his side;
Along the greenwood Chase they bend,
And now their march has ghastly end!
That old and shatter'd oak beneath,
They destine for the place of death."
-What thoughts are his, while all in vain
His eye for aid explores the plain?
What thoughts, while, with a dizzy ear,
He hears the death-prayer mutter'd near?
And must he die such death accurst,
Or will that bosom-secret burst?
Cold on his brow breaks terror's dew,
His trembling lips are livid blue;
The agony of parting life
Has nought to match that moment's strife!
But other witnesses are nigh,
Who mock at fear, and death defy!
Soon as the dire lament was play'd,
It waked the lurking ambuscade.
The Island Lord look'd forth, and spied
The cause, and loud in fury cried,10
"By Heaven, they lead the page to die,
And mock me in his agony !
They shall abye it!"-On his arm
Bruce laid strong grasp, "They shall not harm
A ringlet of the stripling's hair;
But, till I give the word, forbear.
Douglas and Ronald had the care
The soldiers to the barks to share.-
The Monk approach'd and homage paid;
"And art thou come," King Robert said,
"So far to bless us ere we part?"-
"My Liege, and with a loyal heart!—
But other charge I have to tell,”—
And spoke the hest of Isabel.
-"Now by Saint Giles," the monarch cried, "This moves me much!-this morning tide, I sent the stripling to Saint Bride, With my commandment there to bide.""Thither he came the portress show'd, But there, my Liege, made brief abode."
""Twas I," said Edward, "found employ
Of nobler import for the boy.
Deep pondering in my anxious mind,
A fitting messenger to find,
To bear thy written mandate o'er
To Cuthbert on the Carrick shore,
I chanced, at early dawn, to pass
The chapel gate to snatch a mass.
I found the stripling on a tomb
Low-seated, weeping for the doom
That gave his youth to convent gloom.
I told my purpose, and his eyes
Flash'd joyful at the glad surprise.
He bounded to the skiff, the sail
Was spread before a prosperous gale,
And well my charge he hath obey'd;
For, see! the ruddy signal made,
That Clifford, with his merry-men all,
Guards carelessly our father's hall."-1
"O wild of thought, and hard of heart!"
Answer'd the Monarch, " on a part
Of such deep danger to employ
A mute, an orphan, and a boy!?
Unfit for flight, unfit for strife,
Without a tongue to plead for life!
Now, were my right restored by Heaven,
Edward, my crown I would have given,
Ere, thrust on such adventure wild,
I peril'd thus the helpless child."-
-Offended half, and half submiss,
"Brother and Liege, of blame like this,"
Edward replied, " I little dream'd.
A stranger messenger, I deem'd,
Might safest seek the beadsman's cell,
Where all thy squires are known so well.
Noteless his presence, sharp his sense,
His imperfection his defence.
If seen, none can his errand guess;
If ta'en, his words no tale express—
Methinks, too, yonder beacon's shine
Might expiate greater fault than mine.”—
66 Rash,"
," said King Robert, "was the deed-
But it is done.-Embark with speed!—
Good Father, say to Isabel
How this unhappy chance befell;
If well we thrive on yonder shore,
Soon shall my care her page restore.
Our greeting to our sister bear,
And think of us in mass and prayer."
"Aye!" said the Priest, "while this poor hand
Can chalice raise or cross command,
While my old voice has accents' use,
Can Augustine forget the Bruce!"
Then to his side Lord Ronald press'd,
And whisper'd, "Bear thou this request,
That when by Bruce's side I fight,
For Scotland's crown and freedom's right,
The princess grace her knight to bear
Some token of her favouring care;
It shall be shown where England's best
May shrink to see it on my crest.
And for the boy-since weightier care
For royal Bruce the times prepare,
The helpless youth is Ronald's charge,
His couch my plaid, his fence my targe."
He ceased; for many an eager hand
Had urged the barges from the strand.
Their number was a score and ten,
They bore thrice threescore chosen men.
With such small force did Bruce at last
The die for death or empire cast!
Now on the darkening main afloat,
Ready and mann'd rocks every boat;
Beneath their oars the ocean's might
Was dash'd to sparks of glimmering light.
Faint and more faint, as off they bore,
Their armour glanced against the shore,
And, mingled with the dashing tide,
Their murmuring voices distant died.—
"God speed them!" said the Priest, as dark
On distant billows glides each bark;
"O Heaven! when swords for freedom shine,
And monarch's right, the cause is thine!
Edge doubly every patriot blow!
Beat down the banners of the foe!
And be it to the nations known,
That Victory is from God alone!" 3
2 MS." Said Robert, to assign a part Of such deep peril, to employ A mute, a stranger, and a boy!' " thine alone!""
"Keeps careless guard in Turnberry hall."
The startling horses plunged and flung,
Clamour'd the dogs till turrets rung,
Nor sunk the fearful cry,
Till not a foeman was there found
Alive, save those who on the ground
Groan'd in their agony!1
The valiant Clifford is no more;2
On Ronald's broadsword stream'd his gore.
But better hap had he of Lorn,
Who, by the foemen backward borne,
Yet gain'd with slender train the port,
Where lay his bark beneath the fort,
And cut the cable loose.3
Short were his shrift in that debate,
That hour of fury and of fate,
If Lorn encounter'd Bruce !4
Then long and loud the victor shout
From turret and from tower rung out,
The rugged vaults replied;
And from the donjon tower on high,
The men of Carrick may descry
Saint Andrew's cross, in blazonry
Of silver, waving wide!
Yet steaming hot; with Southern gore From hilt to point 'twas crimson'd o'er.
"Bring here," he said, "the mazers four, My noble fathers loved of yore.7
Thrice let them circle round the board,
The pledge, fair Scotland's rights restored!
And he whose lip shall touch the wine,
Without a vow as true as mine,
To hold both lands and life at nought,
Until her freedom shall be bought,-
Be brand of a disloyal Scot,
And lasting infamy his lot!8
Sit, gentle friends! our hour of glee
Is brief, we'll spend it joyously!
Blithest of all the sun's bright beams,
When betwixt storm and storm he gleams.
Well is our country's work begun,
But more, far more, must yet be done.
Speed messengers the country through;
Arouse old friends, and gather new ;9
Warn Lanark's knights to gird their mail,
Rouse the brave sons of Teviotdale,
Let Ettrick's archers sharp their darts,
The fairest forms, the truest hearts!
Call all, call all! from Reedswair-Path,
To the wild confines of Cape-Wrath;
Wide let the news through Scotland ring,
The Northern Eagle claps his wing!"
O WHO, that shared them, ever shall forget 10
The emotions of the spirit-rousing time,
When breathless in the mart the couriers met,
Early and late, at evening and at prime;
When the loud cannon and the merry chime
Hail'd news on news, as field on field was won,11
The concluding stanza of "The Siege of Corinth" contains an obvious, though, no doubt, an unconscious imitation of the preceding nine lines, magnificently expanded through an extent of about thirty couplets:
"All the living things that heard
That deadly earth-shock disappear'd;
The wild birds flew; the wild dogs fled,
And howling left the unburied dead;
The camels from their keepers broke;
The distant steer forsook the yoke-
The nearer steed plunged o'er the plain,
And burst his girth, and tore his rein," &c.
2 In point of fact, Clifford fell at Bannockburn.
a MS." And swiftly hoisted sail."
MS.-"Short were his shrift, if in that hour
Of fate, of fury, and of power,
He 'counter'd Edward Bruce!"
5 See Appendix, Note 3 D.
6 MS." And see the vaulted arch," &c.
7 See Appendix, Note 3 E.
8 MS. Be lasting infamy his lot,
And brand of a disloyal Scot!"
9 See Appendix, Note 3 F.
10 MS." Hast thou forgot?-No! who can e'er forget." 11 "Who can avoid conjuring up the idea of men with broad sheets of foolscap scored with victories rolled round their hats, and horns blowing loud defiance in each other's mouth, from the top to the bottom of Pall-Mall, or the Haymarket, when he reads such a passage? We actually hear the Park and Tower guns, and the clattering of ten thousand bells, as we read, and stop our ears from the close and sudden intrusion of the clamours of some hot and hornfisted patriot, blowing ourselves, as well as Bonaparte, to the devil! And what has all this to do with Bannockburn?"-Monthly Review.
When Hope, long doubtful,soar'd at length sabume, And our glad eyes, awake as day begun, Watch'd Joy's broad banner rise, to meet the rising sun! 1
O these were hours, when thrilling joy repaid A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears! The heart-sick faintness of the hope delay'd, The waste, the woe, the bloodshed, and the tears That track'd with terror twenty rolling years, All was forgot in that blithe jubilee! Her downcast eye even pale Affliction rears, To sigh a thankful prayer, amid the glee, That hail'd the Despot's fall, and peace and liberty!
Such news o'er Scotland's hills triumphant rode, When 'gainst the invaders turn'd the battle's scale, When Bruce's banner had victorious flow'd O'er Loudoun's mountain, and in Ury's vale;2 When English blood oft deluged Douglas-dale,3 And fiery Edward routed stout St. John,* When Randolph's war-cry swell'd the southern gale,5 And many a fortress, town, and tower, was won, And Fame still sounded forth fresh deeds of glory done.
Blithe tidings flew from baron's tower,
To peasant's cot, to forest-bower,
And waked the solitary cell,
Where lone Saint Bride's recluses dwell. Princess no more, fair Isabel,
A vot'ress of the order now,
Say, did the rule that bid thee wear
Dim veil and woollen scapulaire,
And reft thy locks of dark-brown hair,
That stern and rigid vow,
Did it condemn the transport high,
Which glisten'd in thy watery eye,
When minstrel or when palmer told
Each fresh exploit of Bruce the bold?
And whose the lovely form, that shares
Thy anxious hopes, thy fears, thy prayers?
No sister she of convent shade;
So say these locks in lengthen'd braid,
So say the blushes and the sighs,
The tremors that unbidden rise,
When, mingled with the Bruce's fame,
The brave Lord Ronald's praises came.
Believe, his father's castle won,
And his bold enterprise begun,
That Bruce's earliest cares restore
The speechless page to Arran's shore:
Nor think that long the quaint disguise
Conceal'd her from a sister's eyes;
MS.-" Watch'd Joy's broad banner rise, watch'd
And sister-like in love they dwell
In that lone convent's silent cell.
There Bruce's slow assent allows
Fair Isabel the veil and vows;
And there, her sex's dress regain'd,
The lovely Maid of Lorn remain'd,
Unnamed, unknown, while Scotland far
Resounded with the din of war;
And many a month, and many a day,
In calm seclusion wore away.
These days, these months, to years had
When tidings of high weight were borne
To that lone island's shore;
Of all the Scottish conquests made
By the First Edward's ruthless blade,
His son retain'd no more,
Northward of Tweed, but Stirling's towers,
Beleaguer'd by King Robert's powers;
And they took term of truce,
If England's King should not relieve
The siege ere John the Baptist's eve,
To yield them to the Bruce.
England was roused-on every side
Courier and post and herald hied,
To summon prince and peer,
At Berwick-bounds to meet their Liege,7
Prepared to raise fair Stirling's siege,
With buckler, brand, and spear.
The term was nigh-they muster'd fast,
By beacon and by bugle-blast
Forth marshall'd for the field; There rode each knight of noble name, There England's hardy archers came, The land they trode seem'd all on flame, With banner, blade, and shield! And not famed England's powers alone, Renown'd in arms, the summons own; For Neustria's knights obey'd, Gascogne hath lent her horsemen good, And Cambria, but of late subdued, Sent forth her mountain-multitude, And Connoght pour'd from waste and wood Her hundred tribes, whose sceptre rude Dark Eth O'Connor sway'd.10
|