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 bossom pass'd
The thought, but, to his purpose true,
He said not, though he sigh'd, "Adieu !”—

XXVI.

And will he keep his purpose still,

In sight of that last closing ill,

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.-

Clan-Colla's dirge is pealing wide,

The griesly headsman by his side;
Along the green-wood 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!

XXVII.

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,

"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, lead fifty of our force
Up yonder hollow water-course,
And couch thee mid-way on the wold,
Between the flyers and their Hold:
A spear above the copse display'd,
Be signal of the ambush made.

-Edward, with forty spearmen, straight
Through yonder copse approach the gate,
And, when thou hear'st the battle-din,

Rush forward, and the passage win,

Secure the drawbridge-storm the port

And man and guard the castle-court.

The rest move slowly forth with me,

In shelter of the forest tree,

Till Douglas at his post I see."

XXVIII.

Like war-horse eager to rush on,
Compell❜d to wait the signal blown,
Hid, and scarce hid, by green-wood bough,
Trembling with rage, stands Ronald now,
And in his grasp his sword gleams blue,
Soon to be dyed with deadlier hue.—
Meanwhile the Bruce, with steady eye,
Sees the dark death-train moving by,
And heedful measures oft the space,
The Douglas and his band must trace,
Ere they can reach their destined ground.
Now sinks the dirge's wailing sound,
Now cluster round the direful tree

That slow and solemn company,

While hymn mistuned and mutter'd prayer

The victim for his fate

prepare.

What glances o'er the green-wood shade?-
The spear that marks the ambuscade!

"Now, noble Chief! I leave thee loose;
Upon them, Ronald!" said The Bruce.

XXIX.

"The Bruce, The Bruce!" to well-known cry His native rocks and woods reply.

"The Bruce, The Bruce!" in that dread word

The knell of hundred deaths was heard

The astonish'd Southern gazed at first,
Where the wild tempest was to burst,
That waked in that presaging name.
Before, behind, around it came !
Half-arm'd, surprised, on every side

Hemm'd in, hew'd down, they bled and died.

Deep in the ring the Bruce engaged,

And fierce Clan-Colla's broad-sword raged!