These Angus gave-his armourer's care,
Ere morn, shall every breach repair ;
For nought, he said, was in his halls,
But ancient armour on the walls,

And aged chargers in the stalls,

And women, priests, and grey-hair’d men ;
The rest were all in Twisel glen.t
And now I watch my armour here,
By law of arms, till midnight's near;
Then, once again a belted knight,
Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of light.

X.

HERE soon again we meet, my Clare!

This Baron means to guide thee there: Douglas reveres his King's command, Else would he take thee from his band. And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too, Will give De Wilton justice due. Now meeter far for martial broil,

Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil,

Once more"-"O Wilton ! must we then

Risk new-found happiness again,

Trust fate of arms once more?

And is there not an humble glen,
Where we, content and poor,
Might build a cottage in the shade,
A shepherd thou, and I to aid

Thy task on dale and moor?

That reddening brow !--too well I know,
Not even thy Clare can peace bestow,
While falsehood stains thy name :
Go then to fight! Clare bids thee go!
Clare can a warrior's feelings know,
And weep a warrior's shame;
Can Red Earl Gilbert's spirit feel,
Buckle the spurs upon thy heel,

And belt thee with thy brand of steel,
And send thee forth to fame !"—

XI.

HAT night, upon the rocks and bay,

The midnight moon-beam slumbering

lay,

And pour'd its silver light, and pure,
Through loop-hole, and through embrazure,
Upon Tantallon tower and hall;
But chief where arched windows wide

Illuminate the chapel's pride,

The sober glances fall.

Much was there need; though, seam'd with

scars,

Two veterans of the Douglas' wars,
Though two grey priests were there,
And each a blazing torch held high,
You could not by their blaze descry
The chapel's carving fair.

Amid that dim and smoky light,
Chequering the silvery moon-shine bright,
A bishop by the altar stood,+

A noble lord of Douglas blood,

With mitre sheen, and rocquet white.
Yet show'd his meek and thoughtful eye
But little pride of prelacy;

More pleased that, in a barbarous age,
He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page,

Than that beneath his rule he held
The bishopric of fair Dunkeld.
Beside him ancient Angus stood,

Doff'd his furr'd gown, and sable hood:
O'er his huge form and visage pale,