CANTO SIXTH

I

O WHO that shared them ever shall forget
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
Hailed news on news, as field on field was won,

When Hope, long doubtful, soared at length sublime,
And our glad eyes, awake as day begun,

Watched Joy's broad banner rise to meet the rising sun!

O these were hours when thrilling joy repaid
A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears!
The heart-sick faintness of the hope delayed,
The waste, the woe, the bloodshed, and the tears,
That tracked 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 hailed the Despot's fall, and peace and liberty!

Such news o'er Scotland's hills triumphant rode When 'gainst the invaders turned the battle's scale,

When Bruce's banner had victorious flowed
O'er Loudoun's mountain and in Ury's vale;1
When English blood oft deluged Douglas-dale,2
And fiery Edward routed stout Saint John,

When Randolph's war-cry swelled the southern gale,'
And many a fortress, town, and tower was won,
And Fame still sounded forth fresh deeds of glory done.

II

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 votaress of the order now,

Say, did the rule that bid thee wear
Dim veil and woollen scapulare,

And reft thy locks of dark-brown hair,
That stern and rigid vow,

Did it condemn the transport high
Which glistened 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;

See Note 125.

See Note 126.

See Note 127. • See Note 128.

So say these locks in lengthened 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.

III

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
Concealed her from a sister's eyes;
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 regained,
The lovely Maid of Lorn remained,
Unnamed, unknown, while Scotland far
Resounded with the din of war;

And many a month and many a day

In calm seclusion wore away.

IV

These days, these months, to years had worn 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 retained no more,

Northward of Tweed, but Stirling's towers,1
Beleaguered 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.

Courier and post and herald hied

To summon prince and peer,

At Berwick-bounds to meet their liege,2
Prepared to raise fair Stirling's siege
With buckler, brand, and spear.

The term was nigh- they mustered fast,
By beacon and by bugle-blast

Forth marshalled for the field;

There rode each knight of noble name,
There England's hardy archers came,
The land they trode seemed all on flame
With banner, blade, and shield!

And not famed England's powers alone,
Renowned in arms, the summons own;
For Neustria's knights obeyed,

1 See Note 129.

See Note 130.

Gascogne hath lent her horsemen good,

And Cambria, but of late subdued,

Sent forth her mountain-multitude,'

And Connoght poured from waste and wood Her hundred tribes, whose sceptre rude

Dark Eth O'Connor swayed."

V

Right to devoted Caledon

The storm of war rolls slowly on
With menace deep and dread;

So the dark clouds with gathering power
Suspend awhile the threatened shower,
Till every peak and summit lower
Round the pale pilgrim's head.
Not with such pilgrim's startled eye
King Robert marked the tempest nigh!
Resolved the brunt to bide,

His royal summons warned the land
That all who owned their king's command
Should instant take the spear and brand

To combat at his side.

O, who may tell the sons of fame

That at King Robert's bidding came

To battle for the right!

From Cheviot to the shores of Ross,

1 See Note 131.

See Note 132.