Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre; They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, 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 look'd down. XIX. As up the flinty path they strain'd, Sudden his steed the leader rein'd; A signal to his squire he flung, Who instant to his stirrup sprung : "Seest thou, De Vaux, yon 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 ?""No, by my word;-a burly groom He seems, who in the field or chase A Baron's train would nobly grace.""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 ; Away, away, to court, to show Douglas and he must meet prepared." Then right-hand wheel'd their steeds, and strait They won the castle's postern gate. XX. The Douglas, who had bent his way Now, as he climb'd the rocky shelf, Held sad communion with himself:- And fiery Roderick soon will feel I, only I, can ward their fate,- The Abbess hath her promise given, My child shall be the bride of Heaven ; -Be pardon'd 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, O sad and fatal mound !* That oft hast heard the death-axe sound, Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand,- I guess, by all this quaint array, 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. * An eminence on the north-east of the Castle, where state criminals were executed. See Note. I'll follow to the Castle-park, And play my prize ;-King James shall mark, His boyish wonder loved to praise." XXI. The Castle gates were open flung, The quivering draw-bridge rock'd and rung, And echoed loud the flinty street Beneath the courser's clattering feet, As slowly down the steep descent Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, And ever James was bending low, To his white jennet's saddle bow, Doffing his cap to city dame, Who smiled and blush'd for pride and shame. And well the simperer might be vain,— He chose the fairest of the train. |