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And yeomen ‘gan to bend their bows,

       ‘Break off the sports!’ he said and frowned,

       ‘And bid our horsemen clear the ground.’

       XXVII

      Then uproar wild and misarray

       Marred the fair form of festal day.

       The horsemen pricked among the crowd,

       Repelled by threats and insult loud;

       To earth are borne the old and weak,

       The timorous fly, the women shriek;

       With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar,

       The hardier urge tumultuous war.

       At once round Douglas darkly sweep

       The royal spears in circle deep,

       And slowly scale the pathway steep,

       While on the rear in thunder pour

       The rabble with disordered roar

       With grief the noble Douglas saw

       The Commons rise against the law,

       And to the leading soldier said:

       ‘Sir John of Hyndford, ‘twas my blade

       That knighthood on thy shoulder laid;

       For that good deed permit me then

       A word with these misguided men.—

       XXVIII

      ‘Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me

       Ye break the bands of fealty.

       My life, my honour, and my cause,

       I tender free to Scotland’s laws.

       Are these so weak as must require

       ‘Fine aid of your misguided ire?

       Or if I suffer causeless wrong,

       Is then my selfish rage so strong,

       My sense of public weal so low,

       That, for mean vengeance on a foe,

       Those cords of love I should unbind

       Which knit my country and my kind?

       O no! Believe, in yonder tower

       It will not soothe my captive hour,

       To know those spears our foes should dread

       For me in kindred gore are red:

       ‘To know, in fruitless brawl begun,

       For me that mother wails her son,

       For me that widow’s mate expires,

       For me that orphans weep their sires,

       That patriots mourn insulted laws,

       And curse the Douglas for the cause.

       O let your patience ward such ill,

       And keep your right to love me still I’

       XXIX

      The crowd’s wild fury sunk again

       In tears, as tempests melt in rain.

       With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed

       For blessings on his generous head

       Who for his country felt alone,

       And prized her blood beyond his own.

       Old men upon the verge of life

       Blessed him who stayed the civil strife;

       And mothers held their babes on high,

       The self-devoted Chief to spy,

       Triumphant over wrongs and ire,

       To whom the prattlers owed a sire.

       Even the rough soldier’s heart was moved;

       As if behind some bier beloved,

       With trailing arms and drooping head,

       The Douglas up the hill he led,

       And at the Castle’s battled verge,

       With sighs resigned his honoured charge.

       XXX

      The offended Monarch rode apart,

       With bitter thought and swelling heart,

       And would not now vouchsafe again

       Through Stirling streets to lead his train.

       ‘O Lennox, who would wish to rule

       This changeling crowd, this common fool?

       Hear’st thou,’ he said, ‘the loud acclaim

       With which they shout the Douglas name?

       With like acclaim the vulgar throat

       Strained for King James their morning note;

       With like acclaim they hailed the day

       When first I broke the Douglas sway;

       And like acclaim would Douglas greet

       If he could hurl me from my seat.

       Who o’er the herd would wish to reign,

       Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain?

       Vain as the leaf upon the stream,

       And fickle as a changeful dream;

       Fantastic as a woman’s mood,

       And fierce as Frenzy’s fevered blood.

       Thou many-headed monster-thing,

       O who would wish to be thy king?—

       XXXI

      ‘But soft! what messenger of speed

       Spurs hitherward his panting steed?

       I guess his cognizance afar—

       What from our cousin, John of Mar?’

       ‘He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound

       Within the safe and guarded ground;

       For some foul purpose yet unknown,—

       Most sure for evil to the throne,—

       The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu,

       Has summoned his rebellious crew;

       ‘Tis said, in James of Bothwell’s aid

       These loose banditti stand arrayed.

       The Earl of Mar this morn from Doune

       To break their muster marched, and soon

       Your Grace will hear of battle fought;

       But earnestly the Earl besought,

       Till for such danger he provide,

       With scanty train you will not ride.’

       XXXII

      ‘Thou warn’st me I have done amiss,—

       I should have earlier looked to this;

       I lost it in this bustling day.—

       Retrace with speed thy former way;

       Spare not for spoiling of thy steed,

       The best of mine shall be thy meed.

       Say to our faithful Lord of Mar,

       We do forbid the intended war;

       Roderick this morn in single fight

       Was made our prisoner by a knight,

       And Douglas hath himself and cause

       Submitted to our kingdom’s laws.

       The tidings of their leaders lost

       Will soon dissolve the mountain host,

      

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