Walter Scott - The Complete Poems of Sir Walter Scott

Till murmurs rose to clamours loud.

But not a glance from that proud ring

Of peers who circled round the King

With Douglas held communion kind,

Or called the banished man to mind;

No, not from those who at the chase

Once held his side the honoured place,

Begirt his board, and in the field

Found safety underneath his shield;

For he whom royal eyes disown,

When was his form to courtiers known!

XXV

The Monarch saw the gambols flag

And bade let loose a gallant stag,

Whose pride, the holiday to crown,

Two favorite greyhounds should pull down,

That venison free and Bourdeaux wine

Might serve the archery to dine.

But Lufra,—whom from Douglas’ side

Nor bribe nor threat could e’er divide,

The fleetest hound in all the North,—

Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth.

She left the royal hounds midway,

And dashing on the antlered prey,

Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank,

And deep the flowing lifeblood drank.

The King’s stout huntsman saw the sport

By strange intruder broken short,

Came up, and with his leash unbound

In anger struck the noble hound.

The Douglas had endured, that morn,

The King’s cold look, the nobles’ scorn,

And last, and worst to spirit proud,

Had borne the pity of the crowd;

But Lufra had been fondly bred,

To share his board, to watch his bed,

And oft would Ellen Lufra’s neck

In maiden glee with garlands deck;

They were such playmates that with name

Of Lufra Ellen’s image came.

His stifled wrath is brimming high,

In darkened brow and flashing eye;

As waves before the bark divide,

The crowd gave way before his stride;

Needs but a buffet and no more,

The groom lies senseless in his gore.

Such blow no other hand could deal,

Though gauntleted in glove of steel.

XXVI

Then clamored loud the royal train,

And brandished swords and staves amain,

But stern the Baron’s warning:

‘Back! Back, on your lives, ye menial pack!

Beware the Douglas.—Yes! behold,

King James! The Douglas, doomed of old,

And vainly sought for near and far,

A victim to atone the war,

A willing victim, now attends,

Nor craves thy grace but for his friends.—’

‘Thus is my clemency repaid?

Presumptuous Lord!’ the Monarch said:

‘Of thy misproud ambitious clan,

Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man,

The only man, in whom a foe

My woman-mercy would not know;

But shall a Monarch’s presence brook

Injurious blow and haughty look?—

What ho! the Captain of our Guard!

Give the offender fitting ward.—

Break off the sports!’—for tumult rose,

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