Bore many a planetary sign,
Combust, and retrogade, and trine;
And in his hand he held prepared,
A naked sword without a guard.
Dire dealings with the fiendish race
Had marked strange lines upon his face;
Vigil, and fast, had worn him grim,
His eyesight dazzled seemed, and dim,
As one unused to upper day;
Even his own menials with dismay
Beheld, Sir Knight, the griesly sire,
In this unwonted wild attire ;
Unwonted, for traditions run,
He seldom thus beheld the sun.
"I know," he said, his voice was hoarse, And broken seemed its hollow force,"I know the cause, although untold, Why the king seeks his vassal's hold:
Vainly from me my liege would know
His kingdom's future weal or woe;
But yet, if strong his arm and heart,
His courage may do more than art.
"Of middle air the demons proud,
Who ride upon the racking cloud,
Can read in fixed, or wandering star,
The issue of events afar;
But still their sullen aid withhold,
Save when by mightier force controuled.
Such late I summoned to my hall;
And though so potent was the call,
That scarce the deepest nook of hell
I deemed a refuge from the spell,
Yet, obstinate in silence still,
The haughty demon mocks my skill.
But thou,-who little knowest thy might,
As born upon that blessed night,
When yawning graves, and dying groan,
Proclaimed hell's empire overthrown,—
With untaught valour shalt compel
Response denied to magic spell."
Gramercy," quoth our monarch free, "Place him but front to front with me, And, by this good and honoured brand, The gift of Coeur-de-Lion's hand, Soothly I swear, that tide what tide, The demon shall a buffet bide."
His bearing bold the wizard viewed,
And thus, well pleased, his speech renewed.
"There spoke the blood of Malcolm !—mark :
Forth pacing hence, at midnight dark,
The rampart seek, whose circling crown
Crests the ascent of yonder down;
A southern entrance shalt thou find :
There halt, and there thy bugle wind,
And trust thine elfin foe to see,
In guise of thy worst enemy:
Couch then thy lance, and spur thy steed―
Upon him! and Saint George to speed!
If he go down, thou soon shalt know,
Whate'er these airy sprites can shew ;—
If thy heart fail thee in the strife,
I am no warrant for thy life.”
Soon as the midnight bell did ring,
Alone, and armed, rode forth the king
To that old camp's deserted round :
Sir Knight, you well might mark the mound,
Left hand the town,-the Pictish race
The trench, long since, in blood did trace;
The moor around is brown and bare,
The space within is green and fair.
The spot our village children know,
For there the earliest wild flowers grow;
But woe betide the wandering wight,
That treads its circle in the night.
The breadth across, a bowshot clear,
Gives ample space for full career;
Opposed to the four points of heaven,
By four deep gaps are entrance given.
The southernmost our monarch past,
Halted, and blew a gallant blast;
And on the north, within the ring,
Appeared the form of England's king;
Who then, a thousand leagues afar,
In Palestine waged holy war :
Yet arms like England's did he wield,
Alike the leopards in the shield,
Alike his Syrian courser's frame,
The rider's length of limb the same:
Long afterwards did Scotland know,
Fell Edwarda was her deadliest foe.
The vision made our monarch start, But soon he mann'd his noble heart,
a Edward I., surnamed Longshanks.
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