Like deer, that, rousing from their lair,
Just shake the dewdrops from their hair,
And toss their armed crests aloft,

Such matins theirs!"-"Good mother, soft-
Where does my brother bend his way?"—
"As I have heard, for Brodick-Bay,
Across the isle-of barks a score

Lie there, 'tis said, to waft them o'er,
On sudden news, to Carrick-shore."-
"If such their purpose, deep the need,"
Said anxious Isabel, "of speed!
Call Father Augustine, good dame.”—
The nun obey'd, the Father came.

V.

"Kind Father, hie without delay,
Across the hills to Brodick-Bay.
This message to the Bruce be given;
I pray him, by his hopes of Heaven,
That, till he speak with me, he stay!
Or, if his haste brook no delay,
That he deliver, on my suit,
Into thy charge that stripling mute.
Thus
prays his sister Isabel,

For causes more than she may tell-
Away, good father! and take heed,
That life and death are on thy speed."
His cowl the good old priest did on,
Took his piked staff and sandall'd shoon,
And, like a palmer bent by eld,
O'er moss and moor his journey held.

VI.

Heavy and dull the foot of age,
And rugged was the pilgrimage;
But none was there beside, whose care
Might such important message bear.
Through birchen copse he wander'd slow,
Stunted and sapless, thin and low;
By many a mountain stream he pass'd,
From the tall cliffs in tumult cast,
Dashing to foam their waters dun,
And sparkling in the summer sun.
Round his grey head the wild curlew
In many a fearless circle flew.

O'er chasms he pass'd, where fractures wide

Craved wary eye and ample stride; 3
He cross'd his brow beside the stone
Where Druids erst heard victims groan,*
And at the cairns upon the wild,
O'er many a heathen hero piled,"
He breathed a timid prayer for those
Who died ere Shiloh's sun arose.

1 MS." Canst tell where they have bent their way?"

2 MS.-" And cross the island took his way,

O'er hill and holt, to Brodick-Bay."

8 See Appendix, Note 2 W.

4 MS." He cross'd him by the Druids' stone,

That heard of yore the victim's groan."

But though the beams of light decay,
'Twas bustle all in Brodick-Bay.
The Bruce's followers crowd the shore,
And boats and barges some unmoor,
Some raise the sail, some seize the oar;
Their eyes oft turn'd where glimmer'd far
What might have seem'd an early star
On heaven's blue arch, save that its light
Was all too flickering, fierce, and bright.
Far distant in the south, the ray
Shone pale amid retiring day,

But as, on Carrick shore,

Dim seen in outline faintly blue,
The shades of evening closer drew,7

It kindled more and more.
The monk's slow steps now press the sands,
And now amid a scene he stands,

Full strange to churchman's eye;
Warriors, who, arming for the fight,
Rivet and clasp their harness light,
And twinkling spears, and axes bright,
And helmets flashing high.
Oft, too, with unaccustom'd ears,
A language much unmeet he hears,8
While, hastening all on board,
As stormy as the swelling surge
That mix'd its roar, the leaders urge
Their followers to the ocean verge,

With many a haughty word.

VIII.

Through that wild throng the Father pass'd,
And reach'd the Royal Bruce at last.
He leant against a stranded boat,
That the approaching tide must float,
And counted every rippling wave,
As higher yet her sides they lave,
And oft the distant fire he eyed,
And closer yet his hauberk tied,
And loosen'd in its sheath his brand.
Edward and Lennox were at hand,

5 See Appendix, Note 2 X.
7 MS.

6 Ibid, Note 2 Y
The shades of even more closely drew,
It brighten'd more and more.
Now print his sandall'd feet the sands,
And now amid," &c.

8 See Appendix, Note 2 Z.

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."

IX.

""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

X.

"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.”—
"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."-

XI.

"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!

XII.

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

As up the hill his path he drew,
He turn'd his blessings to renew,
Oft turn'd, till on the darken'd coast
All traces of their course were lost;
Then slowly bent to Brodick tower,
To shelter for the evening hour.

XIII.

In night the fairy prospects sink,
Where Cumray's isles with verdant link
Close the fair entrance of the Clyde ;
The woods of Bute, no more descried,
Are gone1-and on the placid sea
The rowers ply their task with glee,
While hands that knightly lances bore
Impatient aid the labouring oar.

The half-faced moon shone dim and pale,
And glanced against the whiten'd sail;
But on that ruddy beacon-light
Each steersman kept the helm aright,
And oft, for such the King's command,
That all at once might reach the strand,
From boat to boat loud shout and hail
Warn'd them to crowd or slacken sail.
South and by west the armada bore,
And near at length the Carrick shore.
As less and less the distance grows,
High and more high the beacon rose;
The light, that seem'd a twinkling star,
Now blazed portentous, fierce, and far.
Dark-red the heaven above it glow'd,
Dark-red the sea beneath it flow'd,
Red rose the rocks on ocean's brim,
In blood-red light her islets swim;
Wild scream the dazzled sea-fowl gave,
Dropp'd from their crags on plashing
wave.2

The deer to distant covert drew, The black-cock deem'd it day, and crew. Like some tall castle given to flame, O'er half the land the lustre came. "Now, good my Liege, and brother sage, What think ye of mine elfin page ?"— "Row on!" the noble King replied, "We'll learn the truth whate'er betide; Yet sure the beadsman and the child Could ne'er have waked that beacon wild."

XIV.

With that the boats approach'd the land,3
But Edward's grounded on the sand;
The eager Knight leap'd in the sea
Waist-deep, and first on shore was he,
Though every barge's hardy band
Contended which should gain the land,

When that strange light, which, seen afar,
Seem'd steady as the polar star,
Now, like a prophet's fiery chair,
Seem'd travelling the realms of air.
Wide o'er the sky the splendour glows,
As that portentous meteor rose;
Helm, axe, and falchion glitter'd bright,
And in the red and dusky light

His comrade's face each warrior saw,
Nor marvell'd it was pale with awe.
Then high in air the beams were lost,
And darkness sunk upon the coast.-
Ronald to Heaven a prayer address'd,
And Douglas cross'd his dauntless breast;
"Saint James protect us!" Lennox cried,
But reckless Edward spoke aside,
"Deem'st thou, Kirkpatrick, in that flame
Red Comyn's angry spirit came,

Or would thy dauntless heart endure
Once more to make assurance sure?"-

"Hush!" said the Bruce, "we soon shall know,

If this be sorcerer's empty show,"

Or stratagem of southern foe.

The moon shines out-upon the sand

Let every leader rank his band."

6

XV.

Faintly the moon's pale beams supply That ruddy light's unnatural dye; The dubious cold reflection lay On the wet sands and quiet bay. Beneath the rocks King Robert drew His scatter'd files to order due, Till shield compact and serried spear In the cool light shone blue and clear. Then down a path that sought the tide, That speechless page was seen to glide; He knelt him lowly on the sand, And gave a scroll to Robert's hand. "A torch," the Monarch cried, "What, ho! Now shall we Cuthbert's tidings know." But evil news the letters bare, The Clifford's force was strong and ware,7 Augmented, too, that very morn, By mountaineers who came with Lorn. Long harrow'd by oppressor's hand, Courage and faith had fled the land, And over Carrick, dark and deep, Had sunk dejection's iron sleep.Cuthbert had seen that beacon-flame, Unwitting from what source it came. Doubtful of perilous event, Edward's mute messenger he sent, If Bruce deceived should venture o'er, To warn him from the fatal shore.

1 MS.-"Have sunk."

2 MS." And from their crags plash'd in the wave."

8 MS." With that the barges near'd the land." 4 MS.-"A wizard's."

5 MS.-"Gallants be hush'd; we soon shall know,' Said Bruce, if this be sorcerer's show.'' 6 MS. -" on the moisten'd sand." 7 MS." That Clifford's force in watch were ware."

XVI.
As round the torch the leaders crowd,
Bruce read these chilling news aloud.
"What council, nobles, have we now?—
To ambush us in greenwood bough,

And take the chance which fate may send
To bring our enterprize to end,
Or shall we turn us to the main
As exiles, and embark again?"-
Answer'd fierce Edward," Hap what may,
In Carrick, Carrick's Lord must stay.
I would not minstrels told the tale,
Wildfire or meteor1 made us quail."-
Answer'd the Douglas, " If my Liege
May win yon walls by storm or siege,
Then were each brave and patriot heart
Kindled of new for loyal part."-
Answer'd Lord Ronald, "Not for shame
Would I that aged Torquil came,
And found, for all our empty boast,
Without a blow we fled the coast.
I will not credit that this land,

So famed for warlike heart and hand,
The nurse of Wallace and of Bruce,
Will long with tyrants hold a truce.”—
"Prove we our fate-the brunt we'll bide!"
So Boyd and Haye and Lennox cried;
So said, so vow'd, the leaders all;
So Bruce resolved: "And in my hall
Since the Bold Southern make their home,
The hour of payment soon shall come,3
When with a rough and rugged host
Clifford may reckon to his cost.
Meantime, through well-known bosk and dell,
I'll lead where we may shelter well."

XVII.

Now ask you whence that wondrous light,
Whose fairy glow beguiled their sight?—
It ne'er was known3-yet grey-hair'd eld
A superstitious credence held,
That never did a mortal hand
Wake its broad glare on Carrick strand;
Nay, and that on the self-same night
When Bruce cross'd o'er, still gleams the
light.

Yearly it gleams o'er mount and moor,
And glittering wave and crimson'd shore-
But whether beam celestial, lent
By Heaven to aid the King's descent,
Or fire hell-kindled from beneath,
To lure him to defeat and death,
Or were it but some meteor strange,
Of such as oft through midnight range,

Startling the traveller late and lone, I know not-and it ne'er was known.

XVIII.

Now up the rocky pass they drew, And Ronald, to his promise true, Still made his arm the stripling's stay, To aid him on the rugged way. "Now cheer thee, simple Amadine! Why throbs that silly heart of thine?"-That name the pirates to their slave (In Gaelic 'tis the Changeling) gave— "Dost thou not rest thee on my arm? Do not my plaid-folds hold thee warm? Hath not the wild bull's treble hide This targe for thee and me supplied? Is not Clan-Colla's sword of steel? And, trembler, canst thou terror feel? Cheer thee, and still that throbbing heart; From Ronald's guard thou shalt not part." -O! many a shaft, at random sent,

Finds mark the archer little meant!

And many a word, at random spoken,

May soothe or wound a heart that's broken! Half soothed, half grieved, half terrified, Close drew the page to Ronald's side;

A wild delirious thrill of joy

Was in that hour of agony,

As up the steepy pass he strove,
Fear, toil, and sorrow, lost in love!

XIX.

The barrier of that iron shore,

The rock's steep ledge, is now climb'd o'er;
And from the castle's distant wall,
From tower to tower the warders call:
The sound swings over land and sea,7
And marks a watchful enemy.-
They gain'd the Chase, a wide domain
Left for the Castle's silvan reign,8
(Seek not the scene-the axe, the plough,
The boor's dull fence, have marr'd it now,)
But then, soft swept in velvet green
The plain with many a glade between,
Whose tangled alleys far invade
The depth of the brown forest shade.
Here the tall fern obscured the lawn,
Fair shelter for the sportive fawn;
There, tufted close with copsewood green,
Was many a swelling hillock seen;
And all around was verdure meet
For pressure of the fairies' feet.
The glossy holly loved the park,
The yew-tree lent its shadow dark,

6 MS.-"Such as through midnight ether range, Affrightening oft the traveller lone."

7 MS." Sounds sadly over land and sea.”

8 See Appendix, Note 3 C.

9 MS." The dark-green holly loved the down,

The yew-tree lent its shadow brown."

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.'

XX.

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 3 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,"
He sunk among the midnight dews!"

XXI.

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.7

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,

He placed the page, and onward strode
With strength put forth, o'er moss and brook,
And soon the marching band o'ertook.

XXII.

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.

XXIII.

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,