Only brief space-one little day-
Close hidden in her safe disguise

From all, but most from Ronald's eyes-
But once to see him more !-nor blame
Her wish-to hear him name her name!-
Then, to bear back to solitude

The thought, he had his falsehood rued!
But Isabel, who long had seen

Her pallid cheek and pensive mien,
And well herself the cause might know,
Though innocent, of Edith's woe,
Joyed, generous, that revolving time
Gave means to expiate the crime.
High glowed her bosom as she said,
"Well shall her sufferings be repaid!"-
Now came the parting hour-a band
From Arran's mountains left the land;
Their chief, Fitz-Louis, had the care
The speechless Amadine to bear
To Bruce, with honour, as behoved
To page the monarch dearly loved.

10. The King had deemed the maiden bright
Should reach him long before the fight,
But storms and fate her course delay :
It was an eve of battle-day,

When o'er the Gillie's-hill she rode.
The landscape like a furnace glowed,
And far as e'er the eye was borne,
The lances waved like autumn-corn.
In battles four beneath their eye,
The forces of King Robert lie.
And one below the hill was laid,
Reserved for rescue and for aid;

And three, advanced, formed vaward-line,
'Twixt Bannock's brook and Ninian's shrine.
Detached was each, yet each so nigh
As well might mutual aid supply.
Beyond, the Southern host appears,
A boundless wilderness of spears,
Whose verge or rear the anxious eye
Strove far, but strove in vain, to spy.
Thick flashing in the evening beam,
Glaives, lances, bills, and banners gleam;
And where the heaven joined with the hill,
Was distant armour flashing still,

So wide, so far, the boundless host
Seemed in the blue horizon lost.

II. Down from the hill the maiden passed,
At the wild show of war aghast ;
And traversed first the rearward host,
Reserved for aid where needed most.

The men of Carrick and of Ayr,
Lennox and Lanark too, were there,
And all the western land;

With these the valiant of the Isles
Beneath their chieftains ranked their files,
In many a plaided band.

There, in the centre, proudly raised,
The Bruce's royal standard blazed,
And there Lord Ronald's banner bore
A galley driven by sail and oar.
A wild yet pleasing contrast made
Warriors in mail and plate arrayed,
With the plumed bonnet and the plaid
By these Hebrideans worn;
But O! unseen for three long years,
Dear was the garb of mountaineers
To the fair Maid of Lorn!

For one she looked-but he was far
Busied amid the ranks of war-
Yet with affection's troubled eye
She marked his banner boldly fly,
Gave on the countless foe a glance,

And thought on battle's desperate chance.

12. To centre of the vaward line

Fitz-Louis guided Amadine.

Armed all on foot, that host appears
A serried mass of glimmering spears.
There stood the Marchers' warlike band.
The warriors there of Lodon's land;
Ettricke and Liddel bent the yew,
A band of archers fierce, though few;
The men of Nith and Annan's vale,
And the bold Spears of Teviotdale ;-
The dauntless Douglas these obey,
And the young Stuart's gentle sway.
North-eastward by Saint Ninian's shrine,
Beneath fierce Randolph's charge, combine
The warriors whom the hardy North
From Tay to Sutherland sent forth.
The rest of Scotland's war-array
With Edward Bruce to westward lay,
Where Bannock, with his broken bank
And deep ravine, protects their flank.
Behind them, screened by sheltering wood,
The gallant Keith, Lord Marshal, stood:
His men-at-arms bear mace and lance,
And plumes that wave, and helms that glance.
Thus fair divided by the King,

Centre, and right, and left-ward wing,
Composed his front; nor distant far

Was strong reserve to aid the war.

And 'twas to front of this array

Her guide and Edith made their way.
13. Here must they pause; for, in advance
As far as one might pitch a lance,
The Monarch rode along the van,
The foe's approaching force to scan,
His line to marshal and to range,
And ranks to square, and fronts to change.
Alone he rode-from head to heel
Sheathed in his ready arms of steel;
Nor mounted yet on war-horse wight,
But, till more near the shock of fight,
Reining a palfrey low and light.
A diadem of gold was set

Above his bright steel basinet,

And clasped within its glittering twine
Was seen the glove of Argentine;
Truncheon or leading staff he lacks,
Bearing, instead, a battle-axe.

He ranged his soldiers for the fight,
Accoutred thus, in open sight

Of either host.-Three bowshots far,
Paused the deep front of England's war,
And rested on their arms a while,
To close and rank their warlike file,
And hold high council, if that night
Should view the strife, or dawning light.

14. O gay, yet fearful to behold,

Flashing with steel and rough with gold,

And bristled o'er with bills and spears,
With plumes and pennons waving fair,
Was that bright battle-front! for there
Rode England's King and peers:
And who, that saw that monarch ride,
His kingdom battled by his side,

Could then his direful doom foretell !

Fair was his seat in knightly selle,

And in his sprightly eye was set
Some spark of the Plantagenet.

Though light and wandering was his glance,
It flashed at sight of shield and lance.
"Know'st thou," he said, "De Argentine,
Yon knight who marshals thus their line?"-
"The tokens on his helmet tell

The Bruce, my Liege: I know him well."-
"And shall the audacious traitor brave
The presence where our banners wave?"-

So please my Liege," said Argentine,
"Were he but horsed on steed like mine,
To give him fair and knightly chance,
I would adventure forth my lance."-

"In battle-day," the King replied,
"Nice tourney rules are set aside.

Still must the rebel dare our wrath?
Set on him-sweep him from our path !"-
And, at King Edward's signal, soon
Dashed from the ranks Sir Henry Boune.

15. Of Hereford's high blood he came,
A race renowned for knightly fame.
He burned before his Monarch's eye
To do some deed of chivalry.

He spurred his steed, he couched his lance,
And darted on the Bruce at once.

-As motionless as rocks, that bide
The wrath of the advancing tide,

The Bruce stood fast.-Each breast beat high,
And dazzled was each gazing eye-
The heart had hardly time to think,
The eyelid scarce had time to wink,
While on the King, like flash of flame,
Spurred to full speed the war-horse came !
The partridge may the falcon mock,
If that slight palfrey stand the shock-
But, swerving from the Knight's career,
Just as they met, Bruce shunned the spear.
Onward the baffled warrior bore

His course-but soon his course was o'er !-
High in his stirrups stood the King,
And gave his battle-axe the swing.
Right on De Boune, the whiles he passed,
Fell that stern dint-the first-the last!-
Such strength upon the blow was put,
The helmet crashed like hazel-nut;
The axe-shaft, with its brazen clasp,
Was shivered to the gauntlet grasp.
Springs from the blow the startled horse,
Drops to the plain the lifeless corse;
-First of that fatal field, how soon,
How sudden, fell the fierce De Boune!

16. One pitying glance the Monarch sped,
Where on the field his foe lay dead;
Then gently turned his palfrey's head,
And, pacing back his sober way,
Slowly he gained his own array.

There round their King the leaders crowd,
And blame his recklessness aloud,

That risked 'gainst each adventurous spear
A life so valued and so dear.

His broken weapon's shaft surveyed
The King, and careless answer made,—
"My loss may pay my folly's tax;
I've broke my trusty battle-axe.".

'Twas then Fitz-Louis, bending low,
Did Isabel's commission show;
Edith, disguised, at distance stands,
And hides her blushes with her hands.
The monarch's brow has changed its hue,
Away the gory axe he threw,

While to the seeming page he drew,

Clearing war's terrors from his eye.
Her hand with gentle ease he took,
With such a kind protecting look,
As to a weak and timid boy
Might speak that elder brother's care
And elder brother's love were there.

17. "Fear not," he said, "young Amadine!" Then whispered, “Still that name be thine. Fate plays her wonted fantasy,

Kind Amadine, with thee and me,
And sends thee here in doubtful hour,
But soon we are beyond her power;
For on this chosen battle-plain,
Victor or vanquished, I remain.
Do thou to yonder hill repair;
The followers of our host are there,
And all who may not weapons bear.-
Fitz-Louis, have him in thy care.-
Joyful we meet, if all go well;
If not, in Arran's holy cell

Thou must take part with Isabel;

For brave Lord Ronald, too, hath sworn

Not to regain the Maid of Lorn,
(The bliss on earth he covets most,)
Would he forsake his battle-post,

Or shun the fortune that may fall
To Bruce, to Scotland, and to all.-
But hark! some news these trumpets tell;
Forgive my haste-farewell-farewell."
And in a lower voice he said,

"Be of good cheer-farewell, sweet maid !”

18. "What train of dust, with trumpet-sound And glimmering spears, is wheeling round Our leftward flank?"-the Monarch cried. To Moray's Earl, who rode beside : "Lo! round thy station pass the foes! Randolph, thy wreath has lost a rose. The Earl his visor closed, and said, "My wreath shall bloom, or life shall fade.Follow, my household!"-And they go Like lightning on the advancing foe. "My Liege," said noble Douglas then, "Earl Randolph has but one to ten: Let me go forth his band to aid!"—