"Last night the gifted Seer did view

A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay; Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch: Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?”—

"Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir
To-night at Roslin leads the ball,
But that my ladye-mother there
Sits lonely in her castle-hall.

"Tis not because the ring they ride,
And Lindesay at the ring rides well,
But that my sire the wine will chide,
If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle.—"

O'er Roslin all that dreary night,

A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam; "Twas broader than the watch-fire's light, And redder than the bright moonbeam.

It glared on Roslin's castled rock,
It ruddied all the copse-wood glen;
'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,
And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.

Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud,

Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie, Each Baron, for a sable shroud, Sheathed in his iron panoply. 1 Island.

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XIII

'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, So blithe Lady Alice is singing;

On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, 33
Lord Richard's axe is ringing.

Up spoke the moody Elfin King,
Who won'd' within the hill,-

Like wind in the porch of a ruin'd church,
His voice was ghostly shrill.

"Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, Our moonlight circle's screen?

Or who comes here to chase the deer,
Beloved of our Elfin Queen?
Or who may dare on wold to wear
The fairies' fatal green?

"Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,
For thou wert christen'd man;

For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
For mutter'd word or ban.

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"Lay on him the curse of the wither'd heart, The curse of the sleepless eye;

Till he wish and pray that his life would part, Nor yet find leave to die."

XIV

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'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,
Though the birds have still'd their singing;
The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
And Richard is fagots bringing.

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
Before Lord Richard stands,
And, as he cross'd and bless'd himself,
"I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf,
"That is made with bloody hands.'
But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,
That woman void of fear,—
"And if there's blood upon his hand,

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For leaves to spread our lowly bed,

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'Tis but the blood of deer."

A cloak must shear from the slaughter'd deer,

The blood of Ethert Brand."

'Twas but a fatal chance;

"And if there's blood on Richard's hand,

For darkling was the battle tried,

A spotless hand is mine.

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And fortune sped the lance.

"If pall and vair1 no more I wear, Nor thou the crimson sheen,

As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray, As gay the forest green.

"And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
And lost thy native land,

Still Alice has her own Richard,
And he his Alice Brand."

1 Thrush and blackbird.

2 Sword.

A kind of fine cloth worn by the upper classes.

A kind of fur.

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By Him whom Demons fear,

To show us whence thou art thyself, And what thine errand here?"