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 >/ '■ ' ■ ■' • •(!'
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 A POEM, 
 HISTORICAL AND ROMANTIC. 
 
 BY 
 
 ALEXANDER W. M. CLARK KENNEDY, 
 
 LATE CAPTAIN COLDSTREAM GUARDS. 
 ILLUSTRATED BY JAMES FAED, JUNR. 
 
 " Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
 Scots, wham Bruce has often led ! " 
 
 Burns. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, AND CO., 
 
 I, PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 
 
 1884.
 
 The rights of translation and of reproduction 
 are reserved.
 
 /5f 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It will, I sincerely trust, be believed that it has 
 been only after great doubtings of mind that this 
 poem is offered to the public. 
 
 The title explains itself, and I am quite aware 
 that I may be open to the charge of there being 
 but little of a continuous story in the poem. Well, 
 I must take my chance, as hundreds have done 
 before ; but I will honestly say that the^ book was 
 conceived, worked out, and completed merely as a 
 humble tribute to the immortal memory of our 
 glorious patriot Robert the Bruce, from whose life 
 of high principle, self-denial, courage, and endu- 
 rance, and above all, the nobleness of his private 
 character, the best amongst us may well learn a 
 lesson. 
 
 *' There is no living man," says the historian 
 Fordun, " who is able to narrate the story of those 
 complicated misfortunes which befell him in the 

 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 commencement of his war, his frequent perils, his 
 retreats, the care and weariness, the hunger and 
 thirst, the watching and fasting, the cold and naked- 
 ness, to which he exposed his person; the exile 
 into which he was driven, the snares and ambushes 
 which he escaped, the seizure, imprisonment, the 
 execution, and utter destruction of his dearest 
 friends and relatives. And if in addition to these 
 almost innumerable and untoward events, which he 
 ever bore with a cheerful and unconquered spirit, 
 any man should undertake to describe his in- 
 dividual conflicts and personal successes, those 
 courageous and single-handed combats, in which, 
 by the favour of God and by his own great strength 
 and courage, he would often penetrate into the 
 thickest of the enemy, now becoming the assailant 
 and cutting down all v/ho opposed him ; at another 
 time acting on the defensive, evincing equal talents 
 in escaping what seemed inevitable death ; if any 
 writer shall do this, he will prove, if I am not mis- 
 taken, that he had no equal in his own time either 
 in knightly prowess, or in strength and vigour of 
 body !" (Fordun and Hearne, vol. v. p. 998.) 
 
 Many friends from all parts of Scotland, England, 
 and abroad have taken the greatest interest in the 
 work, which augurs well for the poem ; and I must 
 especially thank the Marquis of Ailsa, the Earl of 
 Selkirk, Earl Brownlow, Sir Andrew Agnew, Mr. 
 McKerHe, F.S.A., and other friends, for much 
 kindly assistance; and to Mr. James Faed, junr.,
 
 PREFACE. vii 
 
 who has executed the beautiful pictures of some 
 of the most lovely scenes in his native district, 
 with that magic pencil that appears to be the 
 " heirloom " of the Galloway Faeds, I am greatly 
 indebted. And as its scenery lies in one of the most 
 gloriously beautiful districts in all Scotland (though 
 comparatively but little known or visited) and as 
 its title is, I am fully aware, the most popular to a 
 Scotchman's ear that could have been chosen, — I 
 am in hopes of the success of the attempt. If I 
 fail, I shall prove only that I have tried to climb 
 too high ; and if, on the other hand, I succeed in 
 this attempt to re-picture some of the gallant deeds 
 of those stirring times, I shall know that such good 
 fortune will be solely due, not to the writer, but to 
 that grand name, at the very mention of which 
 Scottish blood all the world over grows warm, and 
 Scottish hearts beat proudly, and Scottish eyes 
 grow brighter, — the name of our Patriot King ! 
 
 If Robert the Bruce had wanted any incentive 
 to enable him to love his country more, he had 
 but to gaze upon the glorious scenery of Galloway, 
 Ayrshire, and Dumfries, which, if any of my 
 readers have not visited, I can only advise such 
 to go at once, and enjoy a rich treat for eye and 
 mind. I wish to add that the main incidents of the 
 poem are strictly true, as will be seen by referring 
 to the notes ; in the compilation of which I have 
 studied — and in many cases read through — more 
 than sixty volumes.
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 Before dosing these few words I feel I must re- 
 cord — sad duty though it be ! — the great and kindly 
 interest taken in the production and success of this 
 poem by his late much lamented Royal Highness, 
 the Duke of Albany, one of his last letters being to 
 wish me success ! Since the author's first attempts 
 at literature when a boy at Eton, the late Prince, — 
 to whom the httle volume of the " Birds of Berks 
 and Bucks" was dedicated, by his own desire — 
 had never ceased to take the kindest possible in- 
 terest in the work attempted by one of his old boy- 
 playfellows ! Alas ! that the kindly heart is for 
 ever still, that the smile of welcome will never b6 
 seen on earth again, that the cheerful sympathy he 
 was always so ready to offer to all cannot once 
 more be ours ! How many of his friends can truly 
 feel of that noble soul, — ever forgetting self, ever 
 striving for the weal of others — 
 
 " He is gone on the mountain, 
 
 He is lost to the forest, 
 Like a summer-dried fountain, 
 
 When our need was the sorest ! " 
 
 Such a Prince as he was can ill be spared to 
 his country ! But his good deeds will long survive* 
 him ; and what more noble monument could a 
 Christian Englishman desire? 
 
 Alexander W. M. Clark Kennedy. 
 
 Knockgray, Galloway, N. B. 
 July, 1884.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Dedication I 
 
 Introduction to Canto I. . 
 
 
 
 
 5 
 
 Canto I 
 
 
 
 
 II 
 
 Introduction to Canto II, . 
 
 
 
 
 47 
 
 Canto II 
 
 
 
 
 S3 
 
 Introduction to Canto III. . 
 
 
 
 
 95 
 
 Canto III 
 
 
 
 
 lOI 
 
 Introduction to Canto IV. . 
 
 
 
 
 145 
 
 Canto IV 
 
 
 
 
 153 
 
 Notes to Introduction to Canto I. 
 
 
 
 
 199 
 
 Notes to Canto I. 
 
 
 
 
 . 204 
 
 Notes to Introduction to Canto II. 
 
 
 
 
 229 
 
 Notes to Canto II. . 
 
 
 
 
 . 234 
 
 Notes to Introduction to Canto III. 
 
 
 
 
 . 261 
 
 Notes to Canto III. . 
 
 
 
 
 265 
 
 Notes to Introduction to Canto IV. 
 
 
 
 
 • 273 
 
 Notes to Canto IV. . 
 
 
 
 
 . 283 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Garlics Castle 
 Loch Dee . 
 The Loch of Trool 
 
 Frontispiece. 
 
 To face page 96 
 
 ,, ., 141
 
 3ln memory of 
 
 HIS LATE LAMENTED 
 
 ROYAL HIGHNESS, PRINCE LEOPOLD, 
 
 Duke of Albany, Earl of Clarence, and 
 
 Baron Arklow, K.G., K.T., Etc., 
 
 10 WHOM 
 THIS VOLUME WAS TO HAVE BEEN DEDICATED. 
 
 When tinged with gold is Craigangowan's 
 crest,* 
 When on Balmoral falls the ling'ring ray, 
 And nature's world in peace is luU'd to rest, 
 
 And shades of eve proclaim the close of day, 
 Then is the curlew's cry no longer heard 
 Resounding far across the purple lea, 
 Then hush'd in sleep is voice of latest bird. 
 The owl flits noiseless 'neath the forest tree, 
 And night stands guardian o'er the lovely banks of 
 Dee. 
 
 And when in calm and peace the Castle lies. 
 And brightly gleams the firelight's cheerful ray, 
 
 * Craig-an-gowan is the beautifully-wooded, wild moun- 
 tain, at the foot of which Balmoral lies.
 
 2 DEDICATION. 
 
 'Tis then I would that some may cast their eyes 
 
 Upon the pages of my warrior lay. 
 Perchance it happen, as I trust may be, 
 Proud Scottish memories 'round their hearts 
 shall cling, 
 When deeds are told that made our nation free ; 
 And shall not Northern voices fondly sing 
 The praises of the Bruce, our country's patriot King ? 
 
 But one there was, alas ! no longer here. 
 
 Who loved of great and noble deeds to sing, 
 And all those traits a good man holds so dear — 
 
 Himself of nobleness the very spring ! 
 Yet, as that gentle spirit pass'd away 
 
 His blameless life a grand example stood ! 
 And till our glorious England's latest day 
 
 A nation's love shall cling, as meet it should. 
 Around the honour'd name of Leopold the Good.
 
 CANTO I.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO I. 
 
 Dedicated to 
 The Countess of Dalkeith.* 
 
 All hail ! my lords and ladies gay, 
 Fair damsels, place your work away ; 
 Your leisure take, my lords, I pray. 
 And hearken to a martial lay ! 
 Though sung by minstrel all untaught, 
 I crave your patience, as I ought ; 
 And grant me grace and give me time, 
 So, haply, I may suit my rhyme 
 To each brave knight and lady's ear, 
 Who loves of warrior deeds to hear. 
 I'll feats of ancient valour trace, 
 Give names of ancient fame a place ; 
 And may ye, as ye turn your glance 
 Athwart the fields of old romance, 
 Pause at my tale of Celtic strife. 
 When cheap was held each warrior's life. 
 
 * Now Duchess of Buccleuch and Queensberry. 
 b
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 The bard shall sing of knights of old, 
 And many a legend rare unfold ; 
 Of haughty deeds of arms shall tell, 
 And how the conquering gallants fell, 
 Or how their vessels stemm'd the tide. 
 And terror spread both far and wide, 
 And how, in days of Scotland's fame, 
 The Southron quaked at Bruce's name. 
 His theme is love where ladies dwell — 
 For minstrels know of love the spell ; 
 And loves the bard to find that art 
 Of his can stir a maiden's heart : 
 To mark the bosom rise and fall 
 More quickly at the harper's call. 
 And when he sings to dame or maid, 
 His feeble efforts v/ell repaid 
 Shall be, if he may haply trace 
 The crimson o'er the lovely face, 
 May note the colour come and go, 
 As turns his lay from joy to woe, 
 Until he dreams, through bodice thin. 
 He sees the beating heart within. 
 
 Fair ladies, at thy kind command 
 My harp shall feel its master's hand ; 
 An', if I have my way and will, 
 Your gentle hearts shall wildly thrill 
 At tales of knightly valour told, 
 As Scotland thrill'd in days of old ; 
 And fain would I your bosoms move,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And fill them full of patriot love ; 
 Yet let me ask you, ladies gay, 
 Ere is commenced my longer lay — 
 Can Scotland's soil again produce 
 A patriot staunch as Robert Bruce ? 
 
 Nor shall the minstrel's art be vain^ 
 Should times of danger fall again ; 
 And if our children, yet unborn, 
 Like him should love the hunter's horn, 
 And love, like him, our mountains hoar, 
 Where wander'd once the savage boar, 
 And love the foaming torrent's roar, 
 And love to roam the ocean shore. 
 And hail with joy each lovely dell 
 Where grows in pride the heather bell. 
 And fresh and lasting pleasure take 
 From river, mountain, glen and lake ; 
 And, if his songs of love or raid 
 Can move the breast of gentle maid. 
 If wreaths of bay fair dames shall twine, 
 As damsels did in olden time — 
 A tribute fit for knight and squire, 
 Who fought for love and not for hire, 
 Who rode for Scotland's name and pride, 
 For her they bled, for her they died ! 
 
 And if your sons in future time 
 Should stumble on my humble rhyme, 
 And when they hear the battle rage
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Should think upon mine ancient page, 
 And Hsten to these olden lays 
 That tell of Scotland's stormy days, 
 Proud were the bard, and fill'd with joys — 
 If verse of his can charm the boys, 
 Could send the colour mantling high, 
 Could nerve the arm and fire the eye, 
 Could point the way to deeds of fame, 
 Add lustre fresh to Scotland's name, 
 And prompt to valour yet to be, 
 And future feats of chivalry ! 
 But sooth, 'tis time to end my say, 
 And to commence the warrior's lay. 
 
 E'en should I search our Scotland o'er, 
 Her western to her eastern shore. 
 From John o' Groat's and Pentland sea, 
 To where the Tweed is flowing free, 
 I could not, gentle lady, find 
 A name more suited to my mind, 
 Or fitter for the theme than thine 
 Wherewith to grace my martial line. 
 For, when that fatal deed was wrought, 
 When Bruce in flight his safety sought. 
 When English Edward's wrath was high, 
 And Papal thunders rent the sky, 
 When Comyn's blood was running red (b), 
 And Royal Bruce from vengeance sped — 
 Where found he first secure retreat, 
 Where laid he first in slumber sweet
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 His wearied body, spent with toil, 
 But on Drumlanrig's friendly soil ? 
 And did not Tynron's woods provide 
 Asylum meet wherein to hide ? 
 And did not Bruce's spirit dream, 
 Fair Nith, beside thy winding stream ? — 
 Could fairer friend the minstrel see 
 As patron for his lay than thee ? 
 
 But would had been the happier lot 
 Of these old times — well nigh forgot. 
 And those fair scenes I fain mast try 
 To paint in fancy, 'fore your eye — 
 To be portray'd by vanish'd hand 
 Of one who's gain'd the silent land ; 
 Whose roving footsteps here have trod ; 
 Who loved our Scotland's heathy sod. 
 My Galloway, 'twere well for thee 
 Had happ'd what now may never be — 
 Oh ! could from that far distant shore 
 Our loved Sir Walter wend once more. 
 How deftly would that honour'd hand 
 Paint all thy gems, my native land ! 
 Would he had heard thy torrents roar, 
 Had wander'd 'mong thy mountains hoar ; 
 Had oft'ner trod thy verdant plains. 
 Had felt the charm thy beauty claims, 
 Had gazed upon those purple hills, 
 Had linger'd by thy trickling rills. 
 Had thought upon thy former ills, 
 
 B
 
 lo ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Till, all his patriot feelings loose, 
 He praised the mountain home of Bruce, 
 And pictured forth each famous spot 
 With master pen ! Immortal Scott !
 
 CAxNTO I. 
 
 STANZA r. 
 
 It was an eve in fair July, 
 Soft o'er the hill the breezes sigh 
 A requiem for departing light, 
 A welcome for approaching night. 
 All nature's face was bright and gay, 
 So sweet had been that summer's day. 
 Still all aglow is yonder sky 
 That points the roving stranger's eye 
 Where sank the sun in peace to rest 
 In gold and crimson in the west. 
 How swift away the daylight flies ! 
 The weary traveller homeward hies, 
 The eagle seeks the mountain crest, 
 The falcon hurries to his nest, 
 The deer have sought the forest shade, 
 And owls flit noiseless down the glade. 
 The mallard's quack is heard on high, 
 The heron's screech alarms the sky, 
 As wing they on their rapid flight 
 To some far lake to pass the night.
 
 12 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 How fast the shadows fall around, 
 And gather o'er the rocky ground, 
 As darkness casts her dusky veil 
 On lake and river, hill and dale. 
 
 II. 
 
 But soon a gentler, fairer ray 
 
 Shall chase the gathering gloom away. 
 
 The clouds disperse on every side, 
 
 And stars are twinkling far and wide ; 
 
 The summer moon, in silver dight, 
 
 Is softly shining full and bright 
 
 Upon the crest of Curleywee, 
 
 And on the bosom of Loch Dee (a). 
 
 On rugged Craigencallie's height 
 
 Plays 'mongst the rocks the fitful light 
 
 On many an ancient forest tree, 
 
 And on the slopes of high Craiglee, 
 
 On grim Cairngarroch's summit grey 
 
 The moonbeams dance in merry play ; 
 
 ^Vhere loves the prowling wolf to roam, 
 
 And where the eagle makes its home, 
 
 And where those mighty granite rocks 
 
 Are refuge for the mountain fox, 
 
 And where the "brock"* at peace may dwell 
 
 As doth the buzzard on Craignell. 
 
 For bird and beast must surely be 
 
 A paradise by wild Loch Dee (b). 
 
 * The badger.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 1 3 
 
 III. 
 
 Though every bird had sought its nest 
 And every beast had gone to rest 
 Though each gay flower its petals closed 
 And the glistening lake in peace reposed, 
 Though nature's face was calm and still, 
 And the evening air was damp and chill. 
 Though silence reign'd on the lonely hill — 
 Yet it was not silence all around ; 
 And is it a goblin or mortal sound 
 
 That falls on the listening ear ? 
 That the wind wafts over the waters bright, 
 And startles the sleeper whose dreams are light. 
 
 And who can be wandering here ? 
 For, beyond the shore of the slumbering lake, 
 And from out yon forest of briar and brake 
 Ring peals of laughter and voices gay, 
 Till echo replies mid the boulders grey, 
 And the laughter is borne on the breeze away. 
 And are those figures of mortal birth 
 Who boldly walk o'er the slumbering earth, 
 And are they warriors armed for war ? 
 Or goblin spirits from Lochricarr (c) ? 
 And what is their quest in the forest so free, 
 And for whom do they seek by the banks of the Dee ? 
 But the moon shone down on those figures tall 
 
 Where a cliff loom'd grimly high, 
 And their shadows threw on its rocky wall 
 
 As they swiftly pass'd it by ;
 
 14 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And those ghostly shadows a secret told, 
 
 'Twere plain in truth to see 
 
 They were neither goblins nor warriors bold, 
 
 But simply maidens three. 
 But why have they quitted their far-away home. 
 And whither away do those damsels roam ? 
 When elves are abroad and bad spirits have power, 
 Why wander they here at this evening hour ? 
 For a maid must be hardy and fearless and bold 
 Who travels by moonlight alone on the wold. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Those ladies fair, at the dawn of day, 
 
 Were many and many a mile away ; 
 
 They come from a wild and a distant shore, 
 
 But now their journey is well nigh o'er : 
 
 And now their labour is well nigh done, 
 
 And the goal that they seek for is nearly won. 
 
 They have waded many a stream across. 
 
 And have traversed many a yielding moss. 
 
 Where the beautiful sundew grows humbly around, 
 
 Luxuriant over the treacherous ground ; 
 
 And the eye of the traveller may readily know 
 
 That plant which creeps so fair and low. 
 
 For however hot be the summer's day. 
 
 How fierce soe'er be the noontide's ray, 
 
 What though the blistering sun may scorch 
 
 All nature bare with his flaming torch, 
 
 Though the drooping flowers be bending low,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 15 
 
 Though every blade may his fierceness show ? 
 A pearly drop of dew shall still (d) 
 The bosom of the sundew fill. 
 
 V. 
 
 They have look'd on the beautiful chasm of Ness(E), 
 Where gambols the Doon in its bonnie caress ; 
 And they quitted the glen when the glistening dew 
 The bracken had cover'd with beauty anew ; 
 They have traversed the forest of Buchan through, 
 They have come from Loch Doon, and its waters 
 
 blue (f) ; 
 From the isle where the osprey has chosen a home ; 
 From those beautiful woods where the roe-deer roam, 
 Where the black-cock basks by the sunny shore, 
 And the sea-gulls hover the wavelets o'er. 
 They have held their way by the Gala's stream, 
 And startled the deer from his noonday dream : 
 They have driven the fox from his mountainous lair, 
 They have broken the rest of the slumbering hare, 
 They have look'd on the grouse as he swiftly flew 
 
 past 
 Pursued by the peregrine following fast, 
 They have gazed on the eagle when circling on high. 
 And he seem'd but a speck in the ocean of sky 
 When he wing'd to his home on the Carlin's grey 
 
 cairn (g), 
 To the nest where he carried the warrior's bairn, 
 That he stole from its cradle one midsummer noon
 
 l6 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 As it lay 'neath the walls of the Castle of Doon (h), 
 But the mother climb'd up, and the eaglets were 
 
 slain, 
 And she won back her darling uninjured again. 
 
 VI. 
 
 They have sped o'er the heather so bonnie and free, 
 They have rested 'neath many a glorious tree, 
 They have look'd on the Millfore all dreary and 
 
 cold (i), 
 And the dark Craig of Dee so fantastic and bold. 
 In wildness and grandeur each mountain was dress'd. 
 And the raven croak'd loudly on Corserine's breast. 
 And the scream of the curlew was eerie and shrill. 
 But the locks of the Dungeon lay dreary and still \ 
 And, save for the track of the wandering boar, 
 Of life not a trace by their desolate shore. 
 Where the Dungeon of Buchan its summit uprears (j), 
 And the Merrick, gigantic, in glory appears. 
 And their footsteps to-day have been wandering far, 
 From the braes of CraigmuUoch to grim MuU- 
 
 wharchar, 
 To grey Millyea with its rampart of rocks (k), 
 The home of the badger, the wolf, and the fox. 
 And far have they stray'd by the Cooran's dark bank. 
 Through desolate marshes where rushes are rank ; 
 But those maidens, though weary, have won to 
 
 Craiglee, 
 And now they may rest by the shores of Loch Dee.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE, 17 
 
 VII. 
 
 The moon shone down on those maidens three 
 As they sat by the stem of an ancient tree, 
 And oh what a picture of beauty rare 
 They made as they silently rested there ! 
 For each was fair and in tartans dress'd, 
 But one was more lovely than all the rest, 
 And meeter for palace than mountainous wild, 
 But a maiden of impulse she was from a child, 
 ■\Vho loved by the glen and the river to roam, 
 And call'd the wild mountains her joy and her home. 
 Oh ! fair she was for the eye to see, 
 As fitted a damsel of high degree. 
 For her gentle birth you may quickly trace 
 In her open brow and her lovely face, 
 The tiny hand, the little feet. 
 The ear so small, but white and neat. 
 The parting lips as rubies red, 
 The slender neck and the noble head. 
 And ruddy cheek and raven hair 
 Combined to make her doubly fair. 
 Her lissom waist was passing small. 
 Her gently sloping figure tall, 
 Her step was light as mountain deer 
 Her voice fell sweetly on the ear. 
 And something in her deep blue eye 
 And something in her lightest sigh 
 Impression to a stranger gave 
 That she was gentle, good, and brave.
 
 i8 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And under every girlish art 
 
 She kept concealed a loving heart. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Such maids as this — if Heaven sent, 
 By Heaven's God were surely meant 
 To aid their fellows here below, 
 And strive to lessen pain and woe ; 
 To stand beside the dying bed, 
 To smooth the sufferer's fever'd head, 
 To cheer the widow's deep distress 
 With that sweet look of tenderness ; 
 To take the orphans by the hand, 
 And tell them of a better land, 
 And teach them how to fight the foe 
 As through this dreary world they go ; 
 And tell the weak to pray to Him 
 Who cheers the road when eyes are dim ; 
 How bravely they must toil and wait 
 If they would gain the golden gate ; 
 And beat the powers of darkness down, 
 If they would win a golden crown. 
 Such one as this, our peerless maid. 
 Though all in homely garb array'd, 
 More maid, more angel, who may say, 
 And yet so lovely, young, and gay ?
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. I9 
 
 IX. 
 
 Rest they awhile beside the oak 
 That guards them with its leafy cloak 
 
 Of branches spread aloft. 
 But soon the loveliest maiden spoke, 
 And the sweet silence gently broke 
 
 In accents low and soft. 
 " Haste, Mary, haste to yonder brae 
 That overlooks the little bay. 
 And, Mary, see thou quickly find 
 The shallop for our use design'd, 
 Close hid amongst the heather's bloom 
 It rests as in a purple tomb ; 
 And bracken, with its mantle green. 
 Hath o'er it spread its leafy screen. 
 Let Agnes seek the paddles three 
 Concealed beneath the Druid's tree (l), 
 And quickly launch our vessel gay, 
 And let us o'er the waves away. 
 The hour was ten that Gilbert gave 
 For the royal feast in Bruce's cave. 
 'Twould ill become us here to stay, 
 So hasten, maidens, haste away." 
 With willing hands and quiet skill 
 They haste to do their lady's will, 
 For well they love their mistress dear, 
 And they have served her many a year. 
 The paddles soon fair Agnes finds, 
 And Mary next the rope unbinds
 
 20 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 That holds the shallop to a stake 
 Amongst the heath that skirts the lake. 
 They turn the little vessel o'er, 
 And drag her gaily to the shore, 
 And now the light and graceful boat 
 Doth bravely on the waters float ; 
 And then that crew of maidens three 
 Went speeding o'er the waves of Dee. 
 
 X. 
 
 A gently sighing zephyr's breath 
 Came softly o'er the purple heath, 
 Came soft across the rippling lake, 
 And followed in the shallop's wake, 
 As speeds the boat upon her way 
 Toward the small sequester'd bay, 
 
 Upon the eastern shore. 
 And mann'd by such a fairy crew 
 The bark as if enchanted flew. 
 And seem'd to cleave the waters through 
 With proud delight, as if she knew 
 
 "WTiat lovely freight she bore. 
 As one fair maid their course doth guide 
 With paddle o'er the shallop's side, 
 The second plies with ready hand 
 The oars to speed them to the land. 
 The Lady in the bow reclines. 
 And heather 'mid her hair entwines. 
 That duty o'er, to cheer their way,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 21 
 
 She next her harp prepares to play : 
 And soon each chord melodious rings 
 Responsive to the air she sings. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Row, maidens, row ; 
 And deftly ply the oar 
 
 'Neath the waters so bright 
 
 In the merry moonlight 
 Till we win to the eastern shore. 
 
 Merrily, merrily row, 
 For our bark is stout and strong, 
 Tis made from a mighty pine that stood 
 In ancient Buchan's fairy wood 
 Full many a year and long. 
 
 Then row, sisters, row, 
 And swiftly the boat shall fly, 
 
 As our way we take 
 
 O'er the bonnie lake, 
 Beneath the starlit sky. 
 
 Then row, maidens mine 
 And cleave we the dancing wave. 
 
 For the feast is spread 
 
 And the wine runs red 
 In the royal Bruce's cave.
 
 22 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 XII. 
 Song {continued?^ 
 
 Merrily maidens row, 
 And urge our boat along 
 
 While the harp's gay sound 
 
 Is echoing round 
 In the chorus of the song. 
 
 Then merrily maidens row, 
 Let us haste to the trysting cave, 
 
 For the minstrel's art 
 
 Shall cheer the heart 
 Of Bruce and his followers brave. 
 
 Oh speed the bonnie bark, 
 Nor let our voyage be long. 
 
 We will cheer, as of old, 
 
 Those warriors bold, 
 With Scotland's patriot song ! 
 
 Maidens, cease your toil, 
 For the bark hath reach'd the strand, 
 
 Our shallop moor 
 
 To the rocky shore 
 And lightly spring to land !
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 23 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The song had ceased, but still the strain 
 Came floating o'er the waves again, 
 And echoed round the lovely bay, 
 Then died upon the breeze away. 
 The maidens quickly gain the shore, 
 Each hides amongst the heath her oar, 
 And then pursues the rocky road 
 That leads to Bruce's wild abode. 
 Amidst the boulders scatter'd round 
 No pathway had those damsels found. 
 But so familiar was the way 
 They oft had trod in glare of day ; 
 And as they breast the rugged hill 
 They hear a sudden sound and shrill ; 
 It is a blast of bugle horn 
 Across the sleeping mountain borne ; 
 And ere the notes have died away 
 A figure clad in tartans gay 
 Is swiftly hast'ning down the brae. 
 With joy he greets those ladies fair, 
 Who gladly yield them to his care 
 And as they climb the rocky height 
 The merry jest and laughter light 
 And maiden song are echoing round, 
 And hill and glen repeat the sound, 
 While converse gay the road beguiles. 
 Their youthful faces beam with smiles. 
 For each admires their warrior guide,
 
 24 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 His noble face, his stately stride, 
 And think they in their hearts with pride 
 A gallant groom for lovely bride. 
 The fairest of those damsels three 
 Seems to enjoy his company, 
 And when they reach the cavern door 
 She deems the journey quickly o'er. 
 Gilbert Haye that warrior's name (m). 
 That lady — Lady Alice Graem. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 A stranger's eye no door discerns. 
 Amazed were stranger when he learns 
 Yon boulder on its pivot turns 
 
 If press'd by hand within. 
 For did not seem yon massive block 
 But portion of the granite rock ? 
 Till, answering Gilbert's hasty knock, 
 
 They heard a merry din, 
 As open wide that boulder swung, 
 And peals of noisy laughter rung 
 
 Out on the evening air. 
 But then a voice an order gave, 
 And silence reign'd within the cave, 
 
 And all stood waiting there. 
 And next a cheer, as was their use, 
 Announced their King — it is the Bruce.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 25 
 
 XV. 
 
 That royal warrior, bending low, 
 His guest receives with courtly show, 
 And then with stately step and slow 
 He leads her to a rocky chair 
 That form'd their seat of honour there. 
 It was a rugged granite block, 
 Hewn roughly from the cavern's rock. 
 Her maidens follow close behind 
 Until a vacant seat they find. 
 Their table was a mighty oak 
 That ne'er had felt the woodman's stroke, 
 But long in Buchan's forest grown (n), 
 Until, by wintry blast o'erthrown. 
 It fell beside the cavern's door ; 
 And, dragg'd across the rocky floor 
 By sturdy arms, it lies in pride, 
 And forms a table strong and wide. 
 In fashion rough 'twas rudely shaped, 
 By many a weapon hack'd and scraped, 
 But now its surface polish'd bright 
 Reflects the torches' cheering light. 
 The mighty board is quickly spread, 
 Their hasty benison is said. 
 Then fall to work those men of might, 
 And soon the viands fade from sight. 
 For warriors need an ample feast, 
 "They fight the worst who eat the least ! " 
 It was a rough repast and rude, 
 c
 
 26 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Well fitted to that solitude 
 
 Which reign'd around the cavern hoar, 
 
 Where lately dwelt the savage boar, 
 
 Where slumbering bats had loved to rest, 
 
 And where the owl had made her nest ; 
 
 But now it serves a nobler use, 
 
 And shelter gives to gallant Bruce. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 If lonely traveller here should roam 
 And glance within this rustic home. 
 He sure would say — if guess he gave — 
 That this were mountain robbers' cave. 
 And yon the robber's numerous band, 
 And pray for mercy at their hand. 
 The cavern walls from roof to ground 
 With warlike spoils were hung around, 
 While here and there in vacant space 
 Were trophies of the merry chase. 
 There, high above the royal head. 
 Saint Andrew's banner gay is spread. 
 Its silver cross athwart the roof, 
 Of Bruce's patriot love a proof. 
 And keen and bright and sharp'd for use. 
 The mighty sword of Robert Bruce 
 Beside his massive axe was hung, 
 That many a valiant deed had done ; 
 And various weapons rest beneath, 
 And many a brand and many a sheath,
 
 ROBERl THE BRUCE. 27 
 
 While bills and spears are ranged around, 
 Or lie neglected on the ground ; 
 And flaming torches lend their light 
 To make the banquet gay and bright. 
 The ruddy firelight's ray doth dance 
 Upon each warrior's naked lance, 
 And lengthy bows of ash or yew, 
 In Caldon's woods that lately grew (o), 
 Are piled in bundles near the door, 
 Whilst sheaves of arrows deck the floor ; 
 And yonder ancient huntsman's horn 
 Hath oft been heard at early dawn 
 In Buchan's glades, when Edward gay 
 Had brought the wearied stag to bay. 
 Full many a head with antlers wide 
 Are ranged around, and side by side 
 With skull of boar and mask of fox 
 Conceal each crevice of the rocks. 
 Beside the grizzled badger's coat 
 Is shaggy skin of mountain goat, 
 And heads of wolves, of elk and roe, 
 Of gallant stag, or gentle doe. 
 Are hung suspended from the wall, 
 And deck that wild fantastic hall. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Two mighty fires are blazing high, 
 And massive logs upon them He, 
 On either side the royal cave,
 
 28 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Whose roof a common opening gave 
 As exit for the curHng smoke 
 That rises from those logs of oak. 
 And shaggy hounds of southern breed, 
 So keen of scent but slow of speed, 
 Around the blaze their vigil keep, 
 Or stretch their limbs in happy sleep, 
 And urge the woodland chase again, 
 Or hunt their quarry o'er the plain ; 
 ^Vlaile gather'd round the cheerful blaze 
 The warriors tell of ancient days, 
 How many a glorious feat was done, 
 How many a bloody field was won ; 
 While comrades love or liquor praise, 
 Or join the maidens in their lays, 
 Some by the rocky walls are resting, 
 And some are laughing, some are jesting. 
 
 XVIII, 
 
 But when the monarch lifts his hand 
 
 Obedient is that warrior band, 
 
 And all is hush'd within the cave, 
 
 As summon'd Bruce a favourite slave (p). 
 
 Who hurries, at the royal call, 
 
 From out a little inner hall 
 
 You scarce would notice, for the Avail 
 
 Appear'd unbroken there. 
 But if you would the spot explore. 
 Yon shaggy skins that hide the door,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 29 
 
 And drape the narrow entrance o'er, 
 And half conceal the rocky floor, 
 
 You need remove with care. 
 Then gazing in your curious eye 
 The Bruce's larder would espy ; 
 There hang on high two forest deer 
 All ready for the morrow's cheer. 
 And twenty salmon from the Cree, 
 (With silver painted in the sea,) 
 Upon some rushes damp appear, 
 Ta'en yesternight with torch and spear. 
 A mighty boar bereft of hide 
 Suspended swings, and side by side 
 Are moor-fowl slain by Edward Bruce, 
 Who knew of various traps the use. 
 In order due and ranged around 
 Are countless cobwebb'd barrels found, 
 A goodly store of liquor old. 
 To cheer the heart of warriors bold. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Two squires beside their master stand ; 
 Each holds a mazer * in his hand ; 
 When gives the Bruce a wonted sign, 
 Each goblet brims with ruby wine. 
 Then every warrior rises up 
 And lifts on high the festive cup. 
 And quaff they all with loud acclaim 
 A health to Lady Alice Graem : 
 
 * A large drinking-cup, with a cover.
 
 30 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And once again the echoes ring, 
 When Lady Alice toasts the King. 
 And now with merry jest and song, 
 And peals of laughter loud and long. 
 With ancient tale and roundelay 
 They speed the festive hours away, 
 And many a fearful legend old 
 In turns those bearded soldiers told. 
 And Alice, as was oft her use, 
 Held converse gay with Robert Bruce. 
 But soon requests the courteous king 
 That Lady Alice Graem shall sing. 
 Her harp a maiden quickly brought, 
 For Alice was by nature taught 
 Before her childhood pass'd away. 
 With magic hand her lyre to play, 
 And loves the maid to feel that art 
 Of hers can charm the monarch's heart. 
 
 XX. 
 
 For who like Alice Graem can sing, 
 And who such depth of feeling bring 
 From out the harp's melodious string ? 
 And who like Alice Graem can move 
 Each listener's heart to think of love ? 
 Can cheat the sense until around 
 All seems to them enchanted ground ? 
 And who like her can lull to rest 
 And calm each warrior's troubled breast,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. l\ 
 
 Can picture forth each happy home, 
 For better days must surely come 
 When Bruce hath conquer'd all his foes, 
 And Scotland may at peace repose ; 
 How each shall live a quiet life, 
 And, soothed by love of child and wife. 
 How sweetly may the warrior dwell 
 In some sequester'd highland dell ; 
 And, all his former trials forgot. 
 Enjoy till death his happy lot? 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Or who their souls can better move 
 And fill them full of patriot love ? 
 As tells her lay of deeds of old. 
 When Scotia's sons were brave and bold. 
 As when they drove the pirate Dane (q) 
 Defeated to his shores again ; 
 Or how, when sail'd the Northmen o'er. 
 And thought to land on Scottish shore. 
 They sank their galleys 'neath the wave, 
 And gave the foe a watery grave. 
 She sings of deeds of valour done. 
 And how a name their fathers won \ 
 There is a lay that wakes her lyre 
 Of which her listeners never tire. 
 It is a sad though glorious theme. 
 That tells a Scottish patriot's dream, 
 And how he strove his land to free,
 
 32 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 But then, alas ! 'twas not to be ! 
 And when the harp vibrating rings 
 As Lady Alice sweetly sings, 
 She gives a known and welcome sign, 
 And as those warriors there recline 
 In easy postures on the ground 
 Attentive silence reigns around. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 She sings of feats of valour done 
 By Wallace, Scotland's patriot son. 
 Now hearken all those soldiers bold 
 To hear a tale she oft had told 
 Of how the glorious Wallace won 
 The ancient fort of Cruggleton (r), 
 That high upon its rugged rock 
 Had long Anthstood the battle shock ; 
 How Steven and McKerlie brave, 
 With Wallace hid beside the wave. 
 And how in yonder wooded glen 
 The leader placed his valiant men, 
 Where safely may they watch and wait 
 Until his hand unbars the gate ; 
 And how, conceal'd upon the shore, 
 They pass'd the day in silence o'er. 
 And how they watch'd until the sun 
 His course that summer day had run, 
 Till from Cairnharrow's crest the ray 
 Reflected floats o'er Wigtown Bay,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 33 
 
 And bathes with floods of crimson light 
 The Isles of Fleet so fair and bright, 
 Till far beyond the Manxman's Isle * 
 Which lately bask'd in sunny smile, 
 And far beyond the Burrowhead 
 Hath sunk the sun in gold and red. 
 The seagull winging toward the shore 
 Proclaims that daylight's reign is o'er, 
 The gloom of night around is cast, 
 And evening's dusky shadows fast 
 Are gathering o'er the murmuring sea, 
 And all the sunshine's beauties flee. 
 Old Nature's face is fair and calm, 
 On yonder walls no thought of harm. 
 Or fear, the English warder knows. 
 As sinks the Castle to repose : 
 And all around is hush'd in sleep. 
 Save for the murmurs of the deep. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 The bell on fair Saint Ninian's tower 
 Had scarcely chimed the midnight hour 
 When softly swam those heroes three 
 Across the intervening sea. 
 And unobserved the rock they climb 
 All fragrant with the purple thyme, 
 Until the Castle wall they wn, 
 
 * The Isle of Man is about twenty miles distant from 
 Cruggleton.
 
 34 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And gently clamber down within, 
 And silent through the court-yard creep, 
 And 'neath the wall in shadow keep, 
 And seize the warder half asleep. 
 Sole guardian of the massive gate, 
 That sentinel hath met his fate, 
 For Wallace in his iron grasp 
 Hath gripp'd the soldier hard and fast, 
 And hurl'd his body o'er the wall : 
 Ye heavens ! what a fearful fall ! 
 Now Wallace winds a meiTy blast. 
 While brave McKerlie, hast'ning fast, 
 To Steven for assistance calls, 
 And down the mighty drawbridge falls ; 
 And in their gallant followers pour. 
 For Wallace hath unbarr'd the door, 
 And every point of vantage take 
 Before the foe are scarce awake. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 And now a loud and madd'ning din 
 Pervades the Castle yard within. 
 The arrows fly like winter hail. 
 But useless prove on coats of mail, 
 While mighty Wallace wields around 
 His sword, and fells the foe to ground. 
 And grim McKerlie forward strains 
 Until the inner yard he gains. 
 And still the Scotsmen onward dash.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 35 
 
 And still their weapons loudly clash, 
 And darkness, with her sable screen, 
 Lends terror to the awful scene. 
 The mighty axes dealing death 
 Deprive the foe of life and breath. 
 All bathed in blood is every dirk, 
 And sword and bill do ghastly work, 
 Till corpses cumber up the ground, 
 And gore is streaming all around. 
 And many a soldier's dying groans, 
 And many a wounded warrior's moans 
 Proclaim that life ebbs fast away, 
 And soon those forms are senseless clay. 
 But Wallace 'midst the bloody rout 
 Upraises high his battle shout, 
 "The foe, the foe is failing fast. 
 Charge home again, they may not last ! " 
 And penn'd like sheep above, below, 
 Down, down the brave defenders go ! 
 And then a mighty shout on high 
 Brings echoes from the midnight sky, 
 For now is waged this bloody fray, 
 Victorious Wallace gains the day. 
 All, all is o'er, the feat is done. 
 Right bravely is the Castle won ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The song is o'er, and murmurs low 
 Of praise are heard, and louder grow
 
 36 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 The shouts as Alice turns to go, 
 
 Such is her magic art. 
 For well those bearded warriors know 
 There lies beneath that breast of snow 
 
 A true and patriot heart. 
 I ween that every soldier brave 
 Now standing round the Bruce's cave 
 Would freely shed his honest blood, 
 Or gladly pass through fire and flood 
 
 For one so fair and young. 
 And as she waves her last adieus 
 Each trembling chord the song renews, 
 As if the harp were loth to lose 
 
 An air so sweetly sung. 
 The vaulted cavern sends again 
 In echoes back the lovely strain, 
 WTiich dies upon the stilly night 
 As Alice passes from their sight. 
 And swiftly wends her silent way, 
 With both her maidens, fair and gay, 
 To yon secure but lesser cave. 
 That looks on Dee's romantic wave. 
 Though small within, there yet is space 
 For gallant trophies of the chase. 
 And many a hide is on the wall, 
 And antlers deck the tiny hall, 
 And skins of roe are spread beneath 
 Their couches form'd of purple heath. 
 A highland maiden, standing by. 
 Will all their simple wants supply.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 37 
 
 A sentinel keeps watch before 
 The mighty rock that forms the door. 
 Then in this safe, though rude retreat, 
 We wish each lady slumber sweet. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 But still within the royal cave 
 
 Reigns mirth among those warriors brave. 
 
 And all around the cavern rung 
 
 The laughter loud of old and young, 
 
 And rougher jest and ruder song 
 
 The echoes of the cave prolong. 
 
 And still they fill the empty glass, 
 
 And drink a health to wife or lass, 
 
 And still they quaff the ruby wine, 
 
 Or loudly praise the southern vine. 
 
 For sail'd not yonder gallant store 
 
 Of hquor old the ocean o'er ? 
 
 And soon the soldiers round prevail 
 
 On Alan Stewart to tell the tale. 
 
 That warrior grey at length complies, 
 
 And nods his head and rubs his eyes, 
 
 Takes next a draught both deep and long. 
 
 And then trolls out his simple song.
 
 38 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 XXVII. 
 Alajis Song. 
 
 " On a lovely day in the month of May 
 
 We stood on the Carrick shore, 
 And the ocean lay so calm and gay, 
 
 For her summer dress she wore. 
 
 A mighty galleon stout and strong 
 
 Sail'd past on the waters wide, 
 And o'er the main the flag of Spain 
 
 Was borne along in pride. 
 
 But the winds they blew, and that galleon flew 
 
 Before the favouring gale, 
 I ween that never a braver crew 
 
 Had spread or furl'd a sail. 
 
 Oh, happy and gay as she sail'd away 
 
 Were the crew, but all in vain ; 
 For never more shall they see the shore 
 
 That bounds the land of Spain, 
 
 Then the sunny sky grew dark on high, 
 
 And loudly shriek'd the gale. 
 And a cruel blast dash'd howling past, 
 
 And split their only sail.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 39 
 
 Then the lightning flash'd, the thunder crash'd, 
 
 They could not win the Clyde : 
 And blast on blast came following fast, 
 
 And laid her on her side. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Song {continued). 
 
 Her timbers creak'd, the tempest shriek'd, 
 
 But the gallant, noble crew 
 Cut clear the mast, and she righted fast, 
 
 And fought for life anew. 
 
 But we saw her still at the tempest's will 
 
 Float on before the blast, 
 All useless now was human skill 
 
 When Ailsa's rock was pass'd. 
 
 For pour'd the sea o'er the vessel's lea, 
 Then came a deafening shock, 
 
 And aid was vain, for sheer in twain 
 She split on a mighty rock. 
 
 As sank the brave beneath the wave. 
 
 Their life of toil was o'er, 
 And the breakers grey have cast their prey 
 
 High up on the Carrick shore. 
 
 And o'er and o'er we search'd that shore, 
 When morning's sun did shine.
 
 40 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 But all we found were corpses drowned 
 And these kegs of ruby wine. 
 
 Then hush the laugh the while we quaff 
 
 In silence those mariners brave, 
 Where they peacefully sleep 'neath the ocean deep, 
 
 While over them mourns the wave." 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 When Alan ceased the sadden'd lay, 
 
 His hearers softly stole away, 
 
 And one by one from the table rose 
 
 To seek their couches and court repose. 
 
 For the hour of midnight had long gone by. 
 
 And weary was many a warrior's eye. 
 
 The torches were dim and were flickering low, 
 
 And the smouldering fire shed a ruddier glow 
 
 Of eerie light on those warriors brave 
 
 Who slumbering lay round the Bruce's cave. 
 
 For a hundred patriots lay on the ground, 
 
 Or resting, were peacefully sleeping around ; 
 
 A hundred deerskins, soft and tann'd, 
 
 Couches gave to that warrior band ; 
 
 And a hundred bunches of heather red 
 
 Pillows made for each warrior's head ; 
 
 A hundred breasts were beating true, 
 
 And though in sleep they rest, 
 That gallant band, in numbers i^v,', 
 
 Are all in their armour drest.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 41 
 
 And every man beside his hand 
 
 Had placed his axe and his trusty brand ; 
 
 Each soldier's helmet of burnish'd steel 
 
 Was beside his head or beside his heel. 
 
 The coat of mail on each breast shone bright 
 
 As danced on their armour the torches' light; 
 
 So if in the darkness the foe should appear, 
 
 They will readily meet with a welcome here. 
 
 The sentinel paces beside the door, 
 
 And scans the valley and mountains o'er, 
 
 And looks on the lake with its glistening shore. 
 
 But all is at peace on the desolate hill, 
 
 He hears but the sound of a murmuring rill, 
 
 All else beside is calm and still. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Now glanced around, as was his use, 
 
 With eagle eye the gallant Bruce, 
 
 Before he laid his Royal head 
 
 Upon his simple heather bed. 
 
 He look'd on the soldiers with glances mild. 
 
 As a mother would bend on her slumbering child. 
 
 For he loved those warriors, rude and grim. 
 
 For had they not risked their all for him ? 
 
 He shared their pleasures, he shared their toil, 
 
 And bade them fight on for the love of the soil ; 
 
 And to lighten their spirits he swore they sliould see 
 
 A glorious day and the patriot free. 
 
 He was first to wake and last to sleep, 
 
 And the best to laugh and the worst to weep, 
 
 D
 
 42 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And his share of the vigil the Bruce would keep. 
 What wonder then that they loved the King ? 
 What wonder through Scotland his praise should 
 
 ring ? 
 For whether good betide or ill, 
 His soldiers brave were his children still. 
 And now as he look'd on the slumbering band, 
 The patriot monarch uplifted his hand 
 To Heaven, and swore by the beautiful sky, 
 And that glorious world of the stars on high, 
 " They ne'er shall sheathe the patriot's sword 
 Till England bow to the Bruce's word, 
 Till Brucean banners are waving high 
 O'er Scotland wide on the northern sky ! 
 Until that glorious day we see — 
 Our subjects loyal and Scotland free — 
 Shall be heard the din of the patriot's fight, 
 Till Scotland's monarch regains his right ! " 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Thus spoke the Bruce, and then again 
 He strives to sleep, but strives in vain : 
 Thought follows thought across his brain, 
 
 And gentle sleep defies. 
 He now adopts a simple plan. 
 And beckons to a highlandman, 
 Who chants a brave and martial lay 
 To chase the wakeful god away, 
 
 And close his aching eyes.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 43 
 
 And as the measure rose and fell 
 King Robert loved its cadence well ; 
 But ere the wild refrain is o'er 
 His waking senses wake no more ; 
 But in his slumber soft and deep 
 May angels round our monarch keep. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Bruce' s Rallying Call. 
 
 Oh ! are there not hearts in our own bonnie land 
 As the stars in their numbers as countless as sand, 
 Who live but to strike and their country to free ? 
 And they who would fight, let them conquer with me ! 
 
 For our foes shall be driven from Scotia's land, 
 Like dogs they shall die on the Cumberland strand, 
 And the waves of the Sol way shall crimson with blood. 
 For thousands shall drown 'neath her merciless 
 flood (s). 
 
 Like the fox from the hound they in terror shall fly, 
 Like the lamb in the grasp of the wolf they shall die; 
 And many a corpse shall lie bloody and stark 
 By the shores of the Esk, on the braes of the Sark (t). 
 
 And the bells of Carlisle shall be mournfully rung, 
 Full many a mass shall in England be sung,
 
 44 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And many a maiden and many a bride 
 Shall summon her lover no more to her side. 
 
 For Englishmen's corpses shall cumber the plain, 
 And few the fair banks of the Eden shall gain ; 
 And Annan shall sweep past the dead on her shore, 
 And the moss by the Lochar be purple with gore (u). 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 In Cumberland's dales, on her mountainous rocks 
 Their slain shall be food for the wolf and the fox ; 
 And the beak of the raven with crimson be dyed, 
 x\nd the " corbie " shall join the grim feast by his 
 side. 
 
 Our patriots are true, for their spirits are high. 
 Our weapons are keen when the Southron is nigh ; 
 Thy banner, Saint Andrew, high floating, shall wave 
 And guide to the battle the valiant and brave. 
 
 Then, rally ! each son in our own bonnie land, 
 And shoulder to shoulder undaunted we'll stand ! 
 For Scotia's children will never cry " truce " 
 Till Edward of England shall bow to the Bruce ! 
 
 Then the glorious tidings of victory won 
 
 Like the flashing of lightning through Scotland shall 
 
 run, 
 And they who have fought with King Robert shall see 
 The patriot triumphant, and Scotia free !
 
 CANTO II.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO II. 
 
 Dedicated to 
 
 The Countess of Stair. 
 
 Oh ! were I but a bonnie bird, 
 And if my heart was hap'ly stin'd 
 My native land to traverse o'er, — 
 I'd scan her beauty, cull her lore, 
 And seek her gems from shore to shore. 
 I'd cleave with beating wing the sky, 
 And pierce the azure world on high ; 
 With gladsome voice I'd gaily sing. 
 On joyous pinion' upward wing. 
 And this the burden of my song, 
 As with the breeze I swept along : — 
 " Few beauteous scenes in Scotland gay 
 Are fairer than fair Galloway ; 
 And few, I ween, can well compare 
 With hill and glen in lovely Ayr. 
 In short, throughout the Bruce's land 
 Go fame and beauty hand in hand." 
 
 Then shall from Scottish memories fade
 
 4^ ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Those glorious scenes that he surveyed ? 
 And shall not thoughts of Wallace move 
 Our swelling hearts to patriot love ? 
 Say ! dweller midst the city's roar, 
 Far from the sea, the purple moor, 
 Far from the melody of birds, 
 Or lowing of the browsing herds, 
 Far distant from the pastures green, 
 Far from the forest's leafy screen, 
 Where honest labour paints the cheek 
 That healthy hue ye vainly seek, 
 Say, toiler, wouldst thou ever rue 
 
 (Were all the past a dream,) 
 Couldst thou commence thy life anew, 
 Making thy home in constant view 
 
 Of some familiar stream ? 
 Where herons stand with straining gaze, 
 As trout in murd'rous bills they raise, 
 And anglers see on summer days, 
 When the bright rays the waters glaze, 
 
 The salmon's silv'ry gleam ? 
 
 Or wouldst thou choose by some lone lake 
 Thy wand'ring way to slowly take, 
 Perchance thy steps may roam with me. 
 By ancient Castle Kennedy (a), 
 Where on the loch's fair bosom wide, 
 Ten thousand wavelets in their pride. 
 
 Are dancing in the sun. 
 And where the sea-mew loves to ride,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 49 
 
 Where 'mid the sedge the grebe may glide, 
 And waterhens may make their nest, 
 And duck and teal dt-light to rest 
 
 Secure from snare or gun. 
 Here, round each lovely tarn are seen 
 The rushes with a brighter green, 
 As nod they to the summer breeze 
 That sighs amongst the forest trees, 
 
 Which waving overhead, 
 Form many a fair and verdant arch, 
 And where the tassels of the larch 
 
 Are gay with green and red. 
 In quiet glades we here may see 
 The trusty keeper's " gibbet tree," 
 Whose victims' bodies in the breeze 
 Dance here and there among the trees. 
 There hang suspended hawk and crow, 
 And beasts who wander to and fro, 
 
 And haunt the woods by night, 
 And mountain cats that slowly prowl 
 And e'en the inoffensive owl, — 
 
 A sad but frequent sight, 
 That fell to that unerring aim 
 Which might have sought a nobler game ! (b) 
 Sadly their draggled corpses swing, 
 While zephyrs soft their requiem sing. 
 
 But wander northwards now once more, 
 And traverse fair Loch Ryan's shore, 
 Where countless vessels gaily ride,
 
 50 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 With snowy canvas on her tide, 
 
 As steer they for the Firth of Clyde, 
 
 Or to fair Erin take their way. 
 
 And anchor cast in Belfast bay. 
 
 And pause we where thy braes, Glen App (c), 
 
 Rise proudly from old ocean's lap. 
 
 Now cast thine eyes around thee where 
 
 Many of nature's beauties rare — • 
 
 All scatter'd in profusion there — 
 
 Combine to make the prospect fair 
 
 And pleasant to the eye. 
 Above yon hills, where hot beams glance 
 Athwart the sky, and seem to dance 
 For joy, his charms the sun expands, 
 Reminding you of sunny lands 
 
 Beyond the seas that lie. 
 Who would not love these mountains drear. 
 Where summer each returning year 
 
 The shepherd's heart makes glad ? 
 When lambs rejoice in every glen, 
 And when each steep hill side's again 
 
 With purple heather clad ? 
 When sings for joy each tiny stream, 
 And dances 'neath the sunny gleam, 
 And grouse take flight on hast'ning wings, 
 And where the mountain ouzle sings, 
 And where the wily partridge hides. 
 And where the hare's dark russet sides 
 Are hidden 'neath the bracken green. 
 And where Dame Nature reigns serene !
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 51 
 
 If homelier scenes you'd wander o'er, 
 Come, seek them by the Ayrshire sliore, 
 Where cottage sweet and pasture green 
 On every hand enrich the scene. 
 Where bees pursue their busy road, 
 All laden with their golden load, 
 And take a toll in nectar sweet, 
 From every bloom they hap to meet, 
 And insects of the passing hour 
 Flaunt in the sun their tiny power, 
 And butterflies, whose wings of blue 
 Shine brighter than the heaven's hue, 
 Ave flitting gay on every side, 
 Where flowers are scatter'd far and wide. 
 Or, further from old ocean's shore, 
 Wouldst thou some woody glen explore, 
 Or search for glee the forest o'er ? 
 Where, if the summer sun above 
 Compels thee in some quiet grove 
 To rest awhile, and seek the shade, 
 Thou'lt chance on many a lovely glade, 
 Where even to this day, 'tis said. 
 That elfin troops, in garments red. 
 
 Their mimic battles fight. 
 All mounted on their goblin steeds, 
 Still charge they on with bulrush reeds, 
 
 Oft in the pale moonlight. 
 And well 'tis known, each Hallow-e'en 
 Their ladies, dress'd in gold and green. 
 
 Dance gay with circling tread (d).
 
 52 ROBERT THE BRU&E. - 
 
 The marks of whom thou still may'st see, 
 If o'er the wilds thou roam'st with me, 
 
 In many a flow'ry mead. 
 Then, o'er our native land so fair, 
 Wander, I pray thee, lady fair, 
 And I'll transport thee in my lays 
 To olden scenes of olden days. 
 List to the harp, so thou may'st see 
 A glimpse of ancient chivalry. 
 And at thy kindly look and word, 
 I strike again the trembling chord !
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 STANZA I. 
 
 The peasant seeks his humble shed, 
 
 And on his pillow rests his head, 
 
 The deer have sought their forest bed, 
 
 The grouse are couch'd 'mongst heather red. 
 
 The smiling river sweetly laves 
 
 The weeping birch that o'er it vraves ; 
 
 And gently quivering aspen trees 
 
 Are bowing to the evening breeze. 
 
 The flow'rets veil their petals bright, 
 
 And close them till returning light 
 
 Proclaims the morn, and drives away 
 
 The shades of night from Wigtown Bay. 
 
 The birds are silent on the tree, 
 
 All peaceful are the banks of Cree, 
 
 Whose rippling stream so fair and wide 
 
 Rolls to the sea her silver tide.
 
 54 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 II. 
 
 Beyond those distant hills the sun 
 Once more his brief career hath run : 
 On distant Cairnsmore's hoary crest 
 The latest sunbeams love to rest. 
 Ebbs to its close the summer's day, 
 But still a ling'ring crimson ray (a) 
 
 Falls soft on Garlics tower. 
 And high upon the ivied wall, 
 On barbican and buttress tall, 
 The glowing light doth gently fall, 
 And on yon windows barr'd and small 
 
 That mark my lady's bower. 
 ^Vhile on the donjon's tow'ring height 
 The shadows point the less'ning light, 
 And on the ramparts' wall below 
 A soldier paces to and fro, 
 With spear in hand and footstep slow, 
 While on his armour falls the glow 
 
 Reflected from the skies. 
 That warder stays his measured tread, 
 And to the westward turns his head, 
 Wl^re all the sky is gold and red. 
 
 And then he deeply sighs. 
 And fondly looks with conscious pride 
 To Scotland's banner flaunting wide 
 
 High o'er the donjon's keep. 
 As dies the lingering light away 
 He lowers down that banner gay.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 55 
 
 And piles it in a heap. 
 As in his hand the flag he holds 
 He gently smooths its ruffled folds, 
 Surveys with love its silver cross, 
 Wonders if all the world be dross, 
 And thinks on Scotland's gain or loss 
 If England shall o'er Scotia reign. 
 Or Bruce shall have his own again. 
 
 III. 
 
 A tear-drop trembles in his eye, 
 He heaves a deep but inward sigh, 
 And sadly then the warrior bold 
 Addresses thus that banner old : 
 " Flag of my fathers ! thou didst wave 
 High o'er the true, the young, the brave. 
 And oft o'er many a patriot's grave. 
 And shalt thou bow to foreign knave, 
 And own thyself an English slave ? 
 Saint Andrew ! that thou shalt not do, 
 If Scotland to herself be true ! 
 Shall all our cherished hopes be vain. 
 Or shall w^e see thee wave again, 
 The emblem of the proud, the free. 
 From north to south, from sea to sea ? 
 God and Saint Andrew help the right ! 
 And bring us aid and give us might 
 To free our loved but conquered land, 
 To call our own our ocean strand.
 
 S6 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Where few may dare to raise a hand, 
 And none may think to bear a brand, 
 Save by the leave of England's lord 
 Who rules our soil by fire and sword ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 " And is that banner yet the same 
 Or shadow of its ancient fame, 
 And Scotland's emblem but in name? 
 Yet Bruce hath sworn the EngHsh yoke 
 From off our necks shall yet be broke. 
 And if that glorious day shall be, 
 May Donald Blain be there to see ! 
 For though my eyes be dim and old, 
 I trust my spirit is as bold 
 As e'er it was when life was young, 
 When lays of love I lightly sung, 
 And for my king my latest blood 
 Should welter in a crimson flood ; 
 For him my life I gladly live. 
 For him that life as freely give ! 
 And if I fall, as fall I may, 
 Beside the Bruce in battle's day, 
 Wlio then shall say the death was vain 
 Of the poor patriot Donald Blain ? " 
 
 The warder on the eastern towers 
 With one last glance the horizon scours,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 57 
 
 But now the night is falling fast, 
 
 And in the dusk the owl glides past. 
 
 As on the stair he ling'ring stays, 
 
 A distant figure meets his gaze, 
 
 He marvels if 'tis friend or foe 
 
 Who wanders through the woods below. 
 
 He sees that lonely figure turn. 
 
 And take the path from Penkill burn, 
 
 Then turn once more, and onward straight 
 
 It comes toward the castle gate. 
 
 He hurries down the winding stair 
 
 The stranger's coming to declare, 
 
 But e'er he gains the guard-room door 
 
 A din pervades the castle o'er. 
 
 The watchman's trumpet now is braying, 
 
 The bandogs loudly round are baying, 
 
 The 'larum bell is ringing loud, 
 
 While to their posts the soldiers crowd : 
 
 And pages hasten to and fro 
 
 The cause of this turmoil to know. 
 
 None stay'd to hear old Donald shout 
 
 " One lonely stranger waits without. " 
 
 Yet scarcely v/ould that stranger wait, 
 
 But struck impatient on the gate. 
 
 And rang the clanging bell. 
 And while the hast'ning warder ran 
 Through loop-hole slit the guest to scan, 
 A soldier toil'd with might and main, 
 Then creak'd and rattled many a chain. 
 
 And down the drawbridge fell. 
 
 E
 
 S8 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 As 'neath the archway grim and wide 
 
 The stranger came with hasty stride 
 
 The warder made obeisance fair, 
 
 Ask'd what might be his pleasure there ; 
 
 And wish'd he food or needed jade, 
 
 Or came he there for warrior's aid, 
 
 Or shelter sought from neighb'ring raid ? 
 
 But thus the stranger answer made : — 
 
 " From chasing the deer have I wander'd here, 
 
 I have lost my gallant hound. 
 The forest shades are dark and drear 
 
 And the night is gath'ring round. 
 And I pray for a word with your lady fair 
 
 As she sits in her maiden bower, 
 Or quickly speed and mine errand bear 
 
 To the lord of Garlics' tower. 
 And say that a stranger needs a guide 
 
 To point him out the way, 
 For he must win to the further side 
 
 Of Dee by break of day. 
 And here, beside the castle gate, 
 Till thou bring'st me tidings back, I wait." 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Not so, my lord, " the warder said, 
 
 And he look'd the stranger o'er, — 
 That flashing eye and cheek so red
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 59 
 
 He sure had seen before. 
 And he saw, though all undeck'd for fight, 
 The stranger was a stalwart knight ; — 
 " But rest thee in the inner hall, 
 Till I my lady's maidens call. 
 My lord hath gone to Saint Ninian's shrine, 
 To pray that heaven on Bruce may shine. 
 He quitted the castle at dawn of day, 
 So I bear thy request to my lady gay." 
 A minute of time had scarce flown by 
 When he heard a rustle, a step, and a sigh, 
 And a beautiful damsel both youthful and fair 
 Stept into the hall from a turret stair : 
 She carried a lyre in her graceful hand, 
 And a deerhound led by a silken band, 
 And it oft look'd up in her gentle face, 
 That told she came of a noble race. 
 She gazed at the wanderer keen and long, 
 And then broke forth in a joyous song, 
 While the stranger join'd in his turn the lay, 
 For both were youthful and both were gay. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Fair stranger, fair stranger, 
 What bringest thou here ? 
 
 Dost hail from the battle, 
 Or chasing the deer ?
 
 6o ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Though recks it but little, 
 All hail to our hall, 
 
 For the castle of Garlies • 
 Is open to all. 
 
 Dost ask me, fair maiden, 
 
 Why wander I here ? 
 I come, gentle maiden, 
 
 From chasing the deer, 
 From hunting the stag, 
 
 And from chasing the doe, 
 I came, lovely maiden ; 
 
 Fair maiden, I go. 
 
 Nay, loveliest stranger, 
 
 Thou shalt not depart ; 
 Thou art light to mine eyes, 
 
 Thou art joy to mine heart. 
 Few gallants come hither 
 
 Our time to beguile, 
 So I pray thee, fair stranger. 
 
 To linger a while. 
 
 Fair maiden, fair maiden, 
 
 I would I could stay. 
 And linger beside thee 
 
 For ever and aye, 
 To come at thy bidding. 
 
 Then ecstasy sip 
 From the beam of thine eye 
 
 And the dew of thy lip.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 6i 
 
 Thou'rt gallant, fair stranger, 
 
 But dost thou not fear 
 To wander alone when 
 
 The Southron is near? 
 And dost thou not tremble 
 
 When daylight hath flown 
 At the sprites of the wood 
 
 When they meet thee alone ? 
 
 IX. 
 
 Song {continued). 
 
 Oh ! nay, gentle lady. 
 
 No Southron I fear; 
 For keen is my broad-sword, 
 
 And trusty my spear ; 
 And phantom and spectre, 
 
 And goblin and sprite, 
 At the sign of the cross 
 
 Will betake them to flight. 
 
 Our castle, brave stranger. 
 
 Good cheer doth afford ; 
 And the banquet is ready 
 
 And spread on the board ! 
 Our wine it is ancient. 
 
 But ruddy and bright. 
 So I pray thee to linger, 
 
 For dark is the night.
 
 62 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Though the castle of Garlies 
 
 Good cheer doth afford, 
 And the banquet to tempt me 
 
 Lies spread on the board^ 
 Nor maiden nor banquet 
 
 May be my excuse 
 If on dawning of morning 
 
 I find not the Bruce. 
 
 Oh ! loveliest stranger, 
 
 If that be thy quest, 
 A heart of my own 
 
 I have found in my guest. 
 No maiden's entreaty 
 
 Shall tempt thee to stay ; 
 Then follow, fair stranger, 
 
 I point out the way. 
 
 Let us hasten, brave damsel, 
 
 Nor longer delay ; 
 The stars shall direct us 
 
 Till breaking of day, 
 When each bonnie bird 
 
 In the forest shall sing 
 The wish of our hearts in 
 
 " Success to the King." 
 
 X. 
 
 As Marg'ret Stewart quits the hall, 
 Her women, at their mistress' call.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 63 
 
 Array her quickly for the quest. 
 She then salutes her ready guest; 
 But, e'er they go, a gentle page 
 Who never heard the battle rage, 
 Whose blushing cheek and boyish gait 
 Proclaim him fit on dames to wait, 
 Offers to each, on bended knee, 
 As well bespeaks their high degree, 
 A brimming cup of ruddy hue. 
 In which they toast, as was his due, 
 The name of Scotland's patriot king, 
 While loudly round his praises ring ! 
 And then they cross the Castle yard, 
 And quickly gain the outer ward. 
 The massive gate is all unbarr'd, 
 The barbacan is swiftly pass'd ; 
 And many a turret's shadow vast 
 Upon the moat below is cast ; 
 While gaily through the summer sky 
 The silver moon is riding high. 
 The warders ply the heavy chain, 
 And raise the drawbridge up again, 
 And let the stout portcullis fall, 
 And then betake them to the hall, 
 Where gaily pass the festive hours 
 With maidens from my lady's bowers. 
 For well they know their lady gay 
 Will roam the woods till break of day, 
 In sooth — she said — till past the dawn 
 They should not hear her bugle horn.
 
 64 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 XI, 
 
 And now is Lady Margaret guide, 
 The stranger follows by her side, 
 Then up a steep ascent they wind, 
 And leave the Castle far behind, 
 And swiftly gain the woody bowers 
 That rise above the Castle's towers. 
 And through that dark and silent glade 
 No path had mortal footstep made : 
 They scarce could pierce the dusky gloom 
 Where nightshade shed its rank perfume. 
 Where human foot doth seldom roam, 
 The fierce wild boar hath made its home. 
 And darksome caverns 'mong the rocks 
 Asylum give to wolf or fox. 
 And mighty oaks of monster girth 
 Spread their gnarl'd roots upon the earth. 
 Those patriarch giants long have stood 
 As guardians o'er the neighb'ring wood. 
 They stretch their branching arms around, 
 As though to guard enchanted ground, 
 Where rays of light are seldom seen, 
 Where briony is dank and green, 
 Where grows the fungus, white and red. 
 And branches mingled overhead. 
 And all the wood seem'd fill'd with gloom, 
 As though it were some fearful tomb.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 65 
 
 XII. 
 
 Yet onward sped that maiden fair, 
 
 As if her home was ever there : 
 
 For seldom did she turn aside, 
 
 But swiftly forward seem'd to glide, 
 
 As move across some quiet lake 
 
 The bonnie duck and gallant drake. 
 
 No signs of life the eye or ear 
 
 Assail, unless perchance they hear 
 
 The prowling wolfs ferocious growl, 
 
 Or distant watch-dog's dreary howl, 
 
 Or breathing of the snoring owl, 
 
 As sleeps she by her callow brood 
 
 Deep in that wooded solitude. 
 
 As on they press'd, fair Marg'ret sang, 
 
 And sweetly round her young voice rang; 
 
 Her heart was light, her converse gay, 
 
 And so familiar seem'd the way. 
 
 The stranger asked the lady fair 
 
 If she had often wander'd there. 
 
 And then she told with simple glee 
 
 How well she loves each flowery lea ; 
 
 And how she loves each glen and stream. 
 
 And in their solitude could dream 
 
 Until the glorious summer's day 
 
 In quiet beauty glides away. 
 
 And, as he press'd for m.ore to hear, 
 
 She told to his attentive ear 
 
 How oft it happ'd at earliest dawn
 
 66 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Her brethren went with bugle horn, 
 With shaft and bow, and gallant hound, 
 To scour the woodland miles around 
 In search of boar or russet roe, 
 Of noble stag, or forest doe. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And how she join'd them in their sport, 
 And deem'd the happy day too short : 
 And how she oft had sought her bed 
 'Mongst golden broom and heather red, 
 Or how the bracken's folds of green 
 Her forest couch had often been. 
 Or how, mayhap, some ancient yew 
 Had screen'd her from the midnight dew, 
 And how she sweetly slept till dawn 
 Proclaim'd the advent of the morn. 
 How then, their early meal they took, 
 With draughts from out the crystal brook : 
 Then would the hounds the chase renew, 
 When fresh the scent lay on the dew ; 
 How she had roam'd these woodlands wild, 
 Since e'er she was a tottering child ; 
 And how she could her pathway take 
 By mountain, river, glen, and lake. 
 For m.any a mile round Garlies' tower ; 
 And how she could the country scour, 
 And win her way by day or night. 
 And pierce the woods to left or right.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 67 
 
 To north, or south, to east or west, 
 
 And gain at length the wish'd for quest ; 
 
 And how she could an arrow speed, 
 
 Or spear the sahnon at her need, 
 
 Could through the rapids guide her boat, 
 
 Or in the river swim or float ; 
 
 Or deeply dive, with bated breath, 
 
 To seek the pearls that lie beneath (b), 
 
 Hid in the fairy mussel shell, 
 
 That Scottish maidens love so well. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 She told him how she loved to ride. 
 To skim the pasture far and wide ; 
 To bear her hawk upon her glove, 
 To see him cleave the sky above, 
 And strike his quarry in the air, 
 And then to watch the falling pair. 
 But now the English loons were near 
 It were not safe to chase the deer. 
 Nor fly the hawk, nor cheer the hound, 
 For were not foemen all around ? 
 Nor was it wise for lonely maid 
 To wander through the woodland glade, 
 But — as for her — so well she knew 
 Each dark retreat — none might pursue ; 
 So through the glade she'd wend her way, 
 'Neath murk of night or glare of day.
 
 68 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Then told she how, one autumn morn, 
 Her brothers went, with hound and horn, 
 To seek a sorely stricken deer 
 Which linger'd in the forest near. 
 And how her brother Allan bade 
 Her guard the entrance to the glade ; 
 How, while their halloas rang around, 
 Replied the baying of the hound. 
 And how the stag rush'd quickly past, 
 And how the deer-hound follow'd fast ; 
 Then close behind, a savage boar 
 With foaming tusk, all streak'd with gore, 
 Broke sudden from the thickest wood. 
 And charged upon her where she stood. 
 And how she on the instant drew 
 To full extent her bow of yew (c), 
 And how her arrow pierced him through, 
 And thus that mighty boar she slew ! 
 Then, how her brothers, hastening, found 
 The monster dead upon the ground : 
 Her shaft had pierced his very heart, 
 Proud trophy of her woodland art ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And next she told, with girlish pride, 
 She acted once her brother's guide 
 To grim Craignelder's distant crest (d).
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 69 
 
 Where human footsteps never press'd, 
 For there she knew an eagle's nest. 
 They climb'd the height at break of day — 
 It was a rough and rugged way — 
 And when the top at length they gain, 
 They find the labour was not vain ; 
 Far o'er the ledge so grey and steep, 
 Where goats may scarce a footing keep, 
 A rope around her waist, she went 
 On plunder of the eerie bent. 
 How Ronald held the cord above. 
 And how, with hand encased in glove, 
 The eaglets from the nest she took, 
 And how her hempen girdle shook, 
 While all around her laughter rung, 
 And how her body swinging hung. 
 Till Ronald strain'd with might and main, 
 And brought her safely up again ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The stranger's face is wreathed in smiles 
 
 As thus the maid their way beguiles ; 
 
 For truth to tell he loved to see, 
 
 When youthful fire and ecstasy 
 
 Had brighten'd all that damsel's face, 
 
 As some rememb'rance of the chase 
 
 Pass'd quickly through her active brain, 
 
 To hear her tell the tale again. 
 
 And still they journey thro' the night,
 
 70 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 For soon the sunrise fair and bright 
 Will drive away the gloomy shade, 
 And lighten up each woodland glade. 
 He mark'd not, 'neath the veil of night 
 (Though still the stars were shining bright) 
 The blushes that unbidden came, 
 As shyly ask'd the maid his name, 
 And wondered if 'twere known to Fame, 
 And marvels who her guest may be, 
 And what might be his high degree. 
 For well that gentle damsel knew 
 That mantle slash'd with gold and blue 
 And je weird dirk were never worn 
 By Scottish soldier humbly born, 
 Such eye of fire, such noble mien. 
 In common clay were never seen. 
 Nor had she met a gallant knight 
 With face as fair, or glance as bright : 
 In short, this stranger to her eye 
 A pattern was of chivalry. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The warrior, at the maid's request, 
 His name and rank at length confess'd, 
 When she a dozen names had guess'd ; 
 For he had bid her quickly find 
 The name best suited to her mind. 
 Then to the listening lady told. 
 He sprang from lineage proud and old,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 71 
 
 And how on Scotland's roll of fame 
 
 He — Edward — hoped to write his name ; 
 
 Then, turning to the lovely maid, 
 
 He doff d his cap and gaily said : 
 
 *' And now myself I introduce 
 
 As brother to the royal Bruce ! 
 
 He will receive my fairy guide 
 
 (If still she journey by my side), 
 
 And lead her to the damsels' cave 
 
 That looks on Dee's romantic wave, 
 
 Where dames who love our monarch well 
 
 In times like these securely dwell. 
 
 There shall she meet such ready cheer 
 
 As best befits the mountaineer : 
 
 With joy they'll greet a lady fair. 
 
 And bid her doubly welcome there." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 As onward still they held their way, 
 The summer night gave place to-day. 
 Each twinkling star had veil'd its head, 
 The distant hills were tipp'd with red. 
 The sky was bright'ning when they stood 
 Beneath the shade of Caldon's wood : * 
 The morning air was soft and cool 
 When paused they by the Loch of Trool ; 
 And here the maiden made excuse, 
 And bad adieu to Edward Bruce. 
 For fair Glentrool full well he knew, 
 * See note O to Canto I.
 
 72 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And loved he well its waters blue. 
 
 "And she must be in her maiden's bower 
 
 To welcome her father to Garlies' tower, 
 
 As comes he from Saint Ninian's shrine (e) 
 
 That very eve at the hour of nine, 
 
 And she must pour him the ruby wine. 
 
 'Tis she must unfasten his buckler and sword, 
 
 And sit by his side at the festal board, 
 
 For dear is his daughter to Garlies' lord ! " 
 
 Gay Edward thank'd his lovely guide, 
 
 Who press'd his hand, then homeward hied, 
 
 And as she vanish'd from his sight 
 
 His heart went with that lady bright. 
 
 But thoughts of love must not impede 
 
 The course he onward holds mth speed, 
 
 For, by Saint Andrew, hath he need ! 
 
 And now Lord Edward skirts the lake. 
 
 And holds his way 'mid briar and brake ; 
 
 And e'er another hour hath past 
 
 He gains the Bruce's cave at last. 
 
 But man.'eird much as nigh he drew 
 
 No sentinel appear'd in view. 
 
 Nor smoke, to his observant eye, 
 
 Curl'd up, as wonted, to the sky. 
 
 He thunder'd on the cavern door, 
 
 Then stalk'd across the rocky floor. 
 
 And shouted loudly through the cave, 
 
 But only echo answer gave, 
 
 And all was silent as the grave. 
 
 In haste he quits the empty cave,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 73 
 
 And glances o'er the distant wave. 
 
 The sun is shining fair and free 
 
 Upon the lake of lovely Dee ; 
 
 And as he scans its surface o'er, 
 
 He sees upon the farther shore 
 
 A shallop in a shelter'd bay, 
 
 Which points him out at once the way 
 
 His royal brother lately took 
 
 When he the mountain cave forsook. 
 
 XX. 
 
 See now impatient Edward race (f) 
 Across the intervening space. 
 With agile step he spurns the heath, 
 Nor doth he need to stay for breath : 
 From rock to rock he lightly bounds, 
 Like mountain deer before the hounds. 
 And, leaping burn and boulder o'er. 
 He swiftly gains the heath'ry shore, 
 And quickly then he skirts the lake. 
 And wades amongst the verdant brake, 
 And dashes through the golden broom, 
 Which sheds around its sweet perfume : 
 And rudely wakes the timid hare, 
 That in her " form " was sleeping there ; 
 And many a grouse high raised its head 
 In wonder from its purple bed. 
 To see the intruder hurrying by, 
 Then took its flight with startled cry.
 
 74 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 But round the lake he wends his way 
 Until he gains the little bay 
 In which the boat forsaken lay. 
 He look'd it o'er, and search'd it well, 
 But yon frail vessel cannot tell 
 The tidings Edward hopes to know. 
 Or give him word of friend or foe, 
 And where it 'hoves him now to go. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 East, west, and south he turn'd his head. 
 Then toward the north at hazard sped, 
 But many a weary mile he trod 
 O'er rocky fell and heaving sod. 
 He breasted many a mountain steep, 
 And waded many a river deep, 
 And traversed many a sterile plain, 
 But all his search as yet was vain. 
 He wanders on o'er glen and hill, 
 And crosses many a sparkling rill ; 
 No mortal being meets his eye, 
 No creature answers to his cry, 
 Except the plover on the brae, 
 In black and golden plumage gay (g), 
 Who scares him from her nest away, 
 Or the lone curlew's plaintive wails. 
 As round his head it sadly sails. 
 Or else, perchance, the falcon's cry, 
 As speeds he through the azure sky,
 
 EGBERT THE BRUCE. 75 
 
 Falls sharp on Edward's straining ear, 
 That makes each distant sound seem near ; 
 For every bird asylum kind 
 In Carrick's wilds may surely find ; 
 And every beast that loves to roam 
 In Buchan's depths may make its home. 
 He scann'd in turn, with eagle eye, 
 Hill, glen, and dale as he pass'd by ; 
 And many a note his bugle wound 
 AVhich brought but echoes ringing round. 
 Until at length he hears a blast 
 Upon the wind borne floating past. 
 He list'ning stands, and then again 
 He hears with joy the answ'ring strain. 
 No echo now ! That note he knows, 
 'Tis only Bruce the bugle blows I 
 
 XXII. 
 
 He left the loch of Dee at morn ; 
 At eve he heard his brother's horn. 
 The shadows of the night were cast 
 Upon the mountains, when at last 
 He grasps King Robert by the hand, 
 Surrounded by his gallant band. 
 Their mutual gratulation o'er, 
 Impatient Edward quickly bore 
 His brother to a rocky stone. 
 Where they could talk awhile alone. 
 And now the monarch hears him tell
 
 76 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 How yester-eve, in bosky dell, 
 Beside the shores of silvery Cree, 
 He saw beneath a mighty tree 
 Two Southron varlets sleeping sound, 
 And how he softly crept around. 
 Then rudely woke them from their rest, 
 His sword upon their bosoms press'd. 
 And if they silent stay'd, he swore 
 That they should wake to life no more. 
 If what they knew they'd quickly tell, 
 It still, forsooth, should all be well 
 How then the rascals laugh'd, and told 
 How Clifford and De Vallance bold (h) 
 That very night had armed a band 
 Of valiant men by Minnock's strand. 
 And how they meant at break of day 
 O'er hill and vale to take their way, 
 And scour the wilds for miles around. 
 And hunt the Bruce with horse and hound, 
 And how Lord Clifford wished for chance 
 With Robert Bruce to break a lance ; 
 Hov,' then he let those traitors go. 
 And hurried here the news to show. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 King Robert now divides his band, 
 And sends them forth on either hand ; 
 The one to guard a narrow pass. 
 That lay beyond a deep morass ; 
 The other troop, 'neath Edward's care,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 77 
 
 Betake themselves to slumber there, 
 While Robert Bruce and Gilbert Haye 
 Swift to a river wend their way, 
 Where, on a height above the shore, 
 They well can scan the mountains o'er. 
 And here doth Gilbert fall asleep, 
 While Bruce the lonely watch will keep ; 
 Nor doth he wish to court repose, 
 His mind is centred on his foes, 
 How best he may their strength oppose. 
 And feelings in his bosom rose. 
 
 As when old ocean sends 
 Her surges on a rocky shore. 
 And as she rages more and more. 
 Each tow'ring wave with sullen roar 
 
 Some mighty vessel rends. 
 So was his gallant bosom torn : 
 For was not Bruce's spirit w^orn 
 
 By trials few could bear ? 
 As thought he of his gentle wife (i), 
 At once his love, his Queen, his life ; 
 And shall he see her face again ? 
 And shall he break her captive chain ? 
 
 And how, and when, and where ? 
 Now dwelt he on his sister's fate, 
 A further proof of Edward's hate, 
 Of Mary fair in Roxburgh tower, 
 Christina, in some southern bower ; 
 But what may be her doom of woe. 
 Or where conceal'd, he may not know.
 
 7S ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Next to Carlisle his memory flies, 
 Where many a Scottish patriot lies; 
 Where moulder in a felon's grave, 
 The gay, the proud, the young, the brave. 
 Then thought he of his brethren twain (j), 
 By English Edward foully slain. 
 Poor Alexander's bleeding head, 
 And Thomas Bruce's, dripping red, 
 
 Appear before his gaze : 
 And gallant Crawford's bloody fate, 
 And fierce McDowall's deadly hate, 
 
 Combine his wrath to raise. 
 Then, 'fore his eyes a vision rose. 
 Where bars of wood a cage enclose (k), 
 Secured with iron bolt and band. 
 And lock'd by servile English hand. 
 Where sorrow'd Buchan's lonely dame, 
 But still as lovely — still the same 
 As when the King at ancient Scone 
 Was sitting on his oaken throne, 
 The golden crown she took in hand, — 
 The fairest dame in all the land, — 
 While shouts of acclamation ring. 
 She crown'd her country's patriot King. 
 Such is her crime ! and such her fate : 
 Sad proof of Edward's vengeful hate. 
 And shall he vent his puny spite 
 Upon a lady fair and bright ?
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 79 
 
 What tale for future bards to tell, 
 
 How England's monarch thought it well 
 
 To treat a woman like a lion, 
 
 And fence her round with bars of iron ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And in yon fleecy clouds on high 
 That hasten through the midnight sky, 
 The sorrowing monarch e'en can trace 
 The outline dim of Nigel's face (l), 
 As, sadly bent his haughty head, 
 A prisoner from Kildrummie led, 
 His captors bear him fast away, 
 Till Berwick claims its envied prey. 
 Saw ever Scotland better knight ? 
 For Nigel fought a glorious fight ! 
 Kildrummie's walls are stain'd with blood, 
 That welter'd in a crimson flood 
 From many a Southron's ebbing life 
 Who perished in that bloody strife, 
 Where many a thrilling deed was done, 
 And hardly had the English won. 
 Where inner walls so grimly frown. 
 Or hauled Saint Andrew's banner down, 
 
 Till treason's hand within 
 Was raised for love of Southern gold. 
 And Northern hand had basely sold 
 To Hereford the citadel, 
 Which Nigel's arm had kept so well,
 
 8o ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And valour failed to win. 
 But see, upon the scafifold bare, 
 Poor Nigel stands, his streaming hair 
 
 A halo round his head, 
 Till in the morning breeze he swung, 
 Like felon thief, at Berwick hung, — 
 
 The gallant knight is dead. 
 All honour to his glorious name ! 
 So proud of heart, so free of blame, 
 So high on Scotland's roll of fame, 
 
 So gentle, though so bold ! 
 For glory rests on such as he. 
 Who die to make their country free, 
 And honour'd aye shall Nigel be, 
 
 Where'er the story's told ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Such thoughts but give the monarch might 
 To battle harder for the right. 
 And sadden'd memory arms his hand 
 For vengeance on the foeman band. 
 Such thoughts as his, like potent charm, 
 But brace the heart and nerve the arm, 
 And fire the warrior's eagle eye, 
 And give him power to do or die ! 
 His soul of madd'ning visions dreams ; 
 And yonder, where with dancing beams 
 The moonlight on the river gleams. 
 What fearful sight is there ?
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. %l 
 
 'Tis naught in truth ! — yet, to his eyes, 
 A ghastly vision seems to rise. 
 And patriot friends of former days 
 Are gath'ring fast before his gaze, 
 
 And to his side repair. 
 But, as they cross the dark'ning flood, 
 He sees their hands are red with blood, 
 As raise they up their arms on high 
 To show how Scottish warriors die, 
 Each ghastly phantom lifts its head 
 From off its shoulders, streaming red. 
 And who are all this ghostly band 
 Who near their monarch silent stand? 
 Why raised on high each bloody hand? 
 
 And seek they war or truce ? 
 Was such a group of spectre men 
 E'er seen before by mortal ken ? — 
 'Twere easy task to write each name, 
 For all are known to Scotland's fame, 
 
 And all are known to Bruce. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 There Simon Frazer waves his brand (m), 
 And Somerville hath sword in hand, 
 And brave De Boys hath taken stand 
 
 By Athole stout and bold. 
 His mighty weapon Logan bore, 
 De Morham looks his armour o'er, 
 Inchmartin stands beside the shore
 
 82 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 With Wallace, as of old ! 
 Now forward strode the King apace, 
 And look'd on each familiar face 
 Where suff'ring's seal he still may trace. 
 
 And then aloud he cried : 
 " O God ! that such a gallant band 
 Be foully slain by Edward's hand ! 
 Now cursed be Edward's cruel hate ; 
 Avenged shall be your awful fate 
 
 Who for your country died ! " 
 Thus spake the Bruce. No answering word 
 From all those silent lips he heard, 
 But dimmer grew each warrior's face 
 Until their forms he scarce could trace ; 
 Then dark and lowering grew, the sky, 
 And all bespoke a tempest nigh. 
 And then a fierce and sudden breath 
 Of heated air swept o'er the heath, 
 And next the lightning's vivid flash. 
 Amid the thunder's deaf'ning crash, 
 Illumes the mighty rocks around, 
 As if 'twere some enchanted ground, 
 And all those spectres standing there 
 Have melted on the midnight air. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 The thunder clouds have roU'd away ; 
 The moon again her silver ray 
 Hath far upon the mountains cast
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 83 
 
 (So swiftly hath the tempest past). 
 That lovely orb, whose gentle light 
 Disperses all the gloom of night. 
 And now the monarch, left alone, 
 Reclines beside a massive stone. 
 Yet not alone, for De la Haye 
 Peneath a boulder sleeping lay. 
 And see, below his wearied head 
 A pillow soft of heather red ; 
 Around his armour thrown his plaid. 
 His helm and spear beside him laid, 
 His flaxen ringlets all around 
 Were streaming wild upon the ground. 
 But still he grasps his naked brand, 
 To guard his king from hostile hand. 
 Thus, e'en in slumber vigil keeping. 
 So gently rests the warrior sleeping. 
 Now all is silent, save for cry 
 Of wildfowl from the moonlit sky. 
 Or wail of plover from the moor 
 Who doth his lonely lot deplore ; 
 Or chorus of the croaking frog, 
 That echoes o'er the neighb'ring bog, 
 Or when the gently rippling wave 
 Its music to the night wind gave. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 But, hark ! upon the Bruce's ear 
 Falls through the air of midnight clear
 
 84 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 A distant, low, and muffled cheer ; 
 While tramp of horse and clank of spear 
 
 Are borne upon the breeze. 
 To Haye the monarch softly cried, 
 And hasten'd Gilbert to his side, 
 
 And fall they on their knees. 
 They place their straining ears to ground, 
 To better catch the distant sound : 
 And Gilbert, though he nought can spy, 
 Detects the bloodhound's dreaded cry; 
 And closer yet, and nearer still 
 Come martial sounds across the hill. 
 And voices of approaching men 
 Distinctly echo up the glen : 
 While o'er the rocky fell resounds (n) 
 The baying of the savage hounds, 
 Whose ardour scarce may iron chain, 
 Held by their masters' hand, restrain. 
 As forward press, with fearsome bay, 
 Those dreaded dogs of brindled grey, 
 Their lowered muzzles sniff the scent 
 That points the way the monarch went. 
 And now again those chilling notes, 
 Re-echo from their husky throats. 
 And soon they stand, in clearer view. 
 Against the sky, a trait'rous crew, 
 And sheds the moon her tell-tale light 
 On glancing helm and weapon bright. 
 Then whispers Bruce to gallant Haye, 
 " Those traitors hail from Galloway.
 
 ROBEJiT THE BRUCE. 85 
 
 May infamy around thcni cling, 
 Yon villains would betray their king, 
 And train a hound to hunt to death (o) 
 Their monarch on his native heath. 
 But vengeance cometh soon or late, 
 Perchance to-night they meet their fate ! " 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Then answer'd gallant De la Haye : 
 " There yet is time to speed away, 
 For full two hundred men I spy. 
 And how may two a host defy ? 
 
 'Twere folly here to stay. 
 Come, liege my lord, and haste we then 
 To where we left our sleeping men, 
 And bid them rally in the glen : 
 
 Nor longer here delay." 
 " Not so, my faith ! " the Bruce replied, 
 " Who crosses o'er yon silv'ry tide — 
 
 If he would win the land — 
 Must fain this narrow path ascend, 
 Which Bruce's sword can well defend 
 
 Against that hostile band. 
 But haste thee, Gilbert, haste away. 
 And summon thou our brave array. 
 
 And bid them come with speed. 
 God aid thee now the hill to cross, 
 And bring them swiftly o'er the moss 
 
 To help us at our need.
 
 86 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 While I this narrow way will hold : 
 Who wins the brow must needs be bold ! 
 For is not Bruce's arm as strong 
 To battle 'gainst his country's wrong 
 
 As e'er in times gone by? 
 And God shall aid the Bruce's hand 
 To hold at bay yon varlet band : 
 
 Who passes here shall die ! 
 Then shall we let this 'vantage go ? 
 No, by our good Saint Andrew, no ! " 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 The monarch spoke, and De la Haye 
 Sped swiftly o'er the hills away, 
 And left alone the gallant Bruce, 
 Who now his sword prepares for use, 
 
 And grasps his pointed spear. 
 And then he climbs the rocky brae 
 That overlooks that narrow way, 
 And shouts aloud, " Who comes to-day 
 
 To taste the Bruce's cheer ? 
 An' cross ye o'er the opposing flood 
 Full many a knave shall choke in blood 
 
 Ere land be gain'd, or drown ! " 
 But girds he up his armour now. 
 And tightly o'er his throbbing brow 
 
 He shuts the vizor down, 
 And bravely on that lonely rock 
 He stands prepared for battle shock.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 87 
 
 Scarce did the foe the Bruce espy 
 When storms of hostile arrows fly, 
 And loud the savage GaU'way cry 
 
 Of vengeance rends the air. 
 But many a shaft flew passing wide, 
 His armour turns the rest aside, 
 And e'en the foe survey with pride 
 
 The Bruce undaunted there. 
 For gallant deeds of warrior art 
 Can animate the rudest heart ; 
 And feats of valour ever best 
 Impression make on savage breast. 
 
 XXXII, 
 
 But now a knight comes spurring fast 
 
 Across the glist'ning flood : 
 His comrades wildly press behind 
 
 To drink the Bruce's blood. 
 How swiftly o'er the river wide 
 
 Swim horse and hound and man, 
 But soon beneath the rippling tide 
 
 Sank he who led the van : 
 For Bruce hath sped a trusty shaft, 
 
 And pierced his helmet through ; 
 And the fierce bloodhound, ere his feet 
 touch'd ground. 
 
 Another arrow slew. 
 Upon the river's farther side, 
 
 As press they toward the stream,
 
 88 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 The moonlight, where the foemen ride, 
 
 Sheds down her silver beam. 
 The savage warriors by the shore 
 
 Cry " Onward, comrades bold, 
 And swiftly cross the river o'er ! " 
 
 But those in front cry " Hold !" 
 For see, the first to gain the land 
 Hath met his fate at Bruce's hand. 
 He was a gallant knight and gay 
 That strove to win that narrow way, 
 And never dream'd his soul of fear 
 As met his shield the Bruce's spear. 
 He strove to fell the King to ground. 
 But Bruce's sword was flashing round, 
 And Bruce's spear was long and keen, 
 And pierced the foeman's joints between, 
 Clear through his helm, and through his head 
 As sank he to the river's bed. 
 Its silvery wave turn'd crimson red ; 
 And Bruce to block the deadly way 
 That warrior's steed was fain to slay. 
 Between the rock and river's edge 
 The war-horse lay — a ghastly wedge. 
 But o'er the fallen press the foe. 
 While Bruce, above, strikes down below, 
 And wields his mighty axe around, 
 And fells the Gall'way men to ground. 
 And as they press to gain the brae, 
 His sword and spear keep all at bay. 
 While still their weapons meet and clash.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 89 
 
 And still the axes loudly crash. 
 
 What valour could has e'en been done, 
 
 But none the deadly gap have won ! 
 
 xxxrii. 
 
 Now in that pathway dark and steep 
 Are piled on high a ghastly heap 
 
 Of bodies of the slain. 
 Both man and steed lie dying there, 
 But o'er the dead the foemen bear 
 
 As dash they on again. 
 And shout they now " He may not last ! " (p) 
 As yet once more those warriors fast 
 Come spurring on the brae to gain, 
 But all their valour is in vain, 
 For Bruce's axe and Bruce's sword 
 Are still as good as Bruce's word, 
 And battle bravely for their lord, 
 As shouts the monarch o'er the flood, 
 " Avenge, ye knaves, your comrades' blood ! " 
 And still that massive sword and shield, 
 Which none but he can hold or wield (q), 
 Do glorious work, and win the field. 
 For sudden 'bove the din of fight 
 Comes from the mountain's rugged height 
 A mighty shout that shakes the sky, 
 And brings the echoes from on high 
 " The Bruce ! the Bruce ! " his followers cry, 
 " The Bruce ! the Bruce ! " the foe reply, 
 
 G
 
 90 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Then every varlet turns to fly. 
 Nor wait those trait'rous Gall'way men, 
 But scatter wildly down the glen. 
 And Edward Bruce and Gilbert Haye 
 Charge madly down the narrow way, 
 And quickly gain the river's brae. 
 With sixty followers stout and brave 
 They boldly cross the flowing wave, 
 Whilst some pursue the vanquish'd foe, 
 And drive them through the glen below. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 
 The rest around their monarch crowd, 
 And offer gratulation loud, 
 As rests the King upon the brae, 
 He casts his sword and helm away. 
 And wipes the moisture from his brow, 
 And pays to God his grateful vow. 
 Who nerved the Bruce's stalwart arm, 
 And shielded him from death and harm. 
 Now gaze we on the slaughter round : 
 Eleven corpses strew the ground 
 In varied postures, there they lie, 
 And grimly stare with glazing eye 
 All ghastly toward the moonlit sky, 
 Each in its pool of crimson blood. 
 Three warriors perish'd in the flood ; 
 As sank their steeds below the wave, 
 Together found they wat'ry grave.
 
 ROBEKT THE BRUCE. 91 
 
 On every hand lies martial gear, 
 
 With shattcr'd mail and broken spear. 
 
 Six gallant steeds, the brae beneath, 
 
 Lie silent in the sleep of death. 
 
 And all around, to left, to right, 
 
 Are relics of that bloody fight. 
 But, heard ye ever, gallants, such a deed of valour 
 
 done ? 
 What think ye of two hundred men discomfited by 
 one? 
 
 Awhile, brave lords, fair ladies, rest; 
 The pause, maybe, shall lend you zest 
 To gaze upon an alter'd scene, 
 Where Nature wears her mantle green, 
 And holds her sway as Nature's Queen.
 
 CANTO III.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO III. 
 
 Dedicated to 
 The Countess of Galloway. 
 
 Say, lov'st thou, lady fair, to see 
 The page of ancient history, 
 To read of glorious days of yore. 
 And cull the gems from olden lore, 
 To reap reward from curious store ? 
 And lov'st thou not the soil to tread 
 Where Scotland's bravest blood was shed, 
 To think on days of glory flown, 
 The name of Scot to proudly own ? 
 To read how valiant deeds were done. 
 How gory fields were fought and won, 
 When Bruce our country strove to free ? 
 Then, gentle lady, roam with me. 
 And I will paint thee in my lay 
 The fairest scenes of Galloway. 
 
 Go search the land from south to north, 
 And wheresoe'er thou roamest forth 
 Look well around on every side,
 
 96 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Scan each fair scene through Scotland wide. 
 Then, lady, thy far wanderings o'er, 
 Thou pausest by the Solway's shore, 
 And gladly tak'st awhile thy stand 
 Beside its wild though bonnie strand. 
 Survey the scene around that lies. 
 Or to the northward cast thine eyes, 
 Where gloriously the mountains rise. 
 And lose their summits in the skies. 
 With countless beauties nature rare 
 Combines to make the prospect fair. 
 Then, lady, with the minstrel say, 
 "There is no land like Galloway ! " 
 
 Say, where could nature fairer be 
 
 Than by the shores of silv'ry Dee, 
 
 Or by the windings of the Cree ? 
 
 Or where old Criffel guards the sea (a) 
 
 That rolls her tide on Solway's strand, 
 
 Then backward hastes to Cumberland ? 
 
 Where air more sweet, or breeze more cool, 
 
 Than in the lonely glen of Trool ? 
 
 Can highland scene more lovely be 
 
 Than by the shores of dark loch Dee ? * 
 
 The Bruce's bard hath wander'd far, 
 
 In arctic lands, 'neath tropic star, 
 
 Hath gazed upon the classic tide 
 
 Of Nile's dark waters flowing wide ; 
 
 Hath stood on Afric's sunny lea, 
 
 * See note a to Canto I.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 97 
 
 And traced the Danube to the sea, 
 And through its "iron portals" pass'd 
 Where madly rush'd the current fast. 
 Hath stood on Jordan's sacred shore, 
 And Sinai's desert traversed o'er, 
 And fair St. Catherine's mount did climb, 
 Where Moses stood in olden time ! 
 And though he traversed land and sea, 
 Saw wondrous beauties blooming free, — 
 Where'er the wanderer chanced to be, 
 His heart, fair Scotland, turn'd to thee ! 
 
 How oft, when straying far away. 
 
 His thoughts would turn to Galloway ! 
 
 And oft upon some foreign strand 
 
 In dreams he saw his native land. 
 
 And happy were those visions bright. 
 
 Those fleeting fancies of the night. 
 
 When young and gay once more he stood 
 
 At home in some sequester'd wood, 
 
 And dreams before the mind would raise 
 
 Fair forms beloved in other days ; 
 
 And paint before his backward view 
 
 The early love so loyal, so true ; 
 
 The very spot whereon she stood, 
 
 The very day, the very wood, 
 
 And e'en the blushing damsel's mood. 
 
 When, 'neath those happy shades were paid 
 
 The lover's vow to lovely maid ! 
 
 Again is seen the deep blue eye
 
 98 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Ablaze with all love's ecstasy. 
 And dreams recall each feature's grace, 
 And once again her figure trace ; 
 And earth around, and sky above 
 Are fill'd with peace, for all is love ! 
 
 No foreign forest e'er shall please 
 
 A Scotsman's eye like rowan trees ; 
 
 Nor Gallic nor Italian glade 
 
 Can charm him like the firs' dark shade ; 
 
 Nor Nile nor Danube e'er can be 
 
 As fair to him as bonnie Dee. 
 
 Nor Rhine nor other alien stream 
 
 Can sparkle with as bright a gleam, 
 
 Or round his heart such memories bind 
 
 As where the Nith's fair waters wind, 
 
 Or where old Bladenoch wends his way 
 
 To meet the sea in Wigtown Bay ; 
 
 Or where, 'neath woods of dark'ning fir (b), 
 
 By grey Dalbeattie flov/s the Urr, 
 
 Or by the banks of fairy Luce 
 
 We dream of Wallace and of Bruce ! 
 
 And should thy wand'ring footstep tread 
 Where lordly Merrick rears his head. 
 Thou could'st not, lady, find, I ween. 
 On Scotland's soil a wilder scene, 
 Where mighty mountains tow'ring vast, 
 Haphazard in profusion cast. 
 Show many a quiet glen between,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 99 
 
 While lake and river grace the scene ; 
 
 For Galloway's wild mountain field 
 
 The palm to none shall ever yield. 
 
 If homelier beauties to thy mind 
 
 More pleasing be, then, lady kind, 
 
 Thy roving footsteps homeward turn 
 
 Where sweetly by the Penkill burn (c) 
 
 Cumloden hides her forest bower. 
 
 Where smiles old (larlies' ruined tower, 
 
 Or Castle Stewart's ivied side (d). 
 
 Sad relic of its former pride. 
 
 Yet all such beauties to the eye 
 
 Are lovely as we pass them by. 
 
 Now as I bid thee fair adieu. 
 
 And once again my tale renew, — 
 
 Though strath and stream on every side. 
 
 Boast glorious scenes, through Scotland wide, — 
 
 " For loveliness," I hear thee say, 
 
 "The palm be thine, my Galloway 1 "
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 STANZA 1. 
 
 Where waves above the torrent's bed 
 The weeping birch her graceful head, 
 Where shines her stem of silver grey, 
 Where devious is the rugged way ; 
 Where greenest grass below one's feet 
 Affords the roebuck pasture sweet ; 
 x^nd where the rowan's berries red 
 Are sweetly clustering over-head ; 
 Where Scotia's firs, in native pride, 
 Spread forth their branches far and wide. 
 Their rugged stems all glorious rise, 
 And redly stand 'gainst sunny skies : 
 Where 'mongst the rocks below they lave 
 Their twisted rootlets in the wave. 
 Where in the burn the spotted trout 
 Beneath the brae darts in and out ; 
 And where the stately foxglove red, 
 Nods to the golden broom her head ; 
 And where earth's fragrance rich and rare, 
 With sweetness fills the morning air.
 
 I02 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Where bows the dipper * on her stone, 
 Where glorious nature reigns alone, 
 And holds her sway o'er forest shade, 
 O'er heath'ry hill, o'er verdant glade, 
 O'er rapid stream, o'er quiet pool, — 
 There sweetly lies the glen of Trool. 
 
 II. 
 
 Where soars the eagle in the height 
 When dawn succeeds the summer night ; 
 And where, among the boulders grey, 
 The mountain goat pursues his way ; 
 Where falcons poise on hov'ring wing, 
 'Where merle and mavis f sweetly sing. 
 And flowers, to cheer the wanderer's sight, 
 Bedeck the earth with blossoms bright. 
 Where all around to greet his eyes 
 The tow'ring mountains grimly rise, 
 And high uprear their summits grey, 
 To welcome the approach of day. 
 With melody the forest rings 
 Whene'er the sun his radiance flings 
 Upon the narrow vale of Trool, 
 Where play the morning breezes cool. 
 And where the pearly drops of dew- 
 Shine brightly on the harebell blue. 
 Where to its very topmost height 
 Each hill is clad with heather bright ; 
 While streamlets o'er each rugged crest 
 * Or water-ouzle. f The blackbird and thnish.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Are sparkling on the mountain's breast, 
 
 Like streaks of silver down they gUde, 
 
 And grace each lofty mountain side, 
 
 As ribbons deck a bonnie bride. 
 
 Where grouse from grim Muldonnoch take 
 
 Their rapid flight across the lake. 
 
 And 'mid the purple heather rest 
 
 That grows upon Eschoncan's breast. 
 
 III. 
 
 Say, wanderer to this rugged glen, 
 
 Far from the haunts of toiling men, — • 
 
 But ere thou giv'st me back reply 
 
 Survey the scene with critic's eye — 
 
 If flows young blood around thine heart, 
 
 Thou here may'st learn the poet's art ; 
 
 For lovers bless the glen of Trool 
 
 When suns are bright and zephyrs cool. 
 
 As stray they through the lovely vale, 
 
 And tell again the lovers' tale — 
 
 Could nature be more wildly grand 
 
 Than here in Scotia's fairy land ? 
 
 What scene than this could lovelier be. 
 
 Or nature's face more fair to see ? 
 
 Or could one draw a sweeter breath 
 
 Than from the breeze that sweeps the heath? 
 
 Wouldst thou, if old, feel young again ? 
 
 Then come to nature's own domain. 
 
 I pray thee, stranger, turn thine eyes
 
 104 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Toward the glen, the hills, the skies, 
 The woods that skirt yon lake around, 
 The flowers that hide the rocky ground : 
 Survey the scene ; then say with me, 
 " I give, Glen Trool, the palm to thee ! " 
 
 IV. 
 
 This glorious scene before our view, 
 We will our simple tale renew. 
 And now Apollo's bright'ning rays 
 Hath pierced the valley's devious ways, 
 The mountain sides are all ablaze. 
 A lovely sea of purple heath, 
 Down stretches to the lake beneath, 
 And decks it as with bridal wreath. 
 Eschoncan's aged and hoary head 
 Rises above that sea of red. 
 While at the rugged mountain's feet 
 The lake is bathed in slumber sweet. 
 Its surface sparkles in the light 
 With countless wavelets dancing bright. 
 The grouse-cock crows upon the hill, 
 The trout are leaping in the rill, 
 The mountain blackbird * tunes his lay 
 Of welcome to the opening day. 
 The wild duck follows close the drake. 
 And steers her way across the lake. 
 Her tiny offspring swim around 
 To seek another feeding ground, 
 * The ring-ouzle.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 105 
 
 The snipe is crouching 'mid the sedge, 
 The bittern guards the waters' edge, 
 And yonder alder's whitening leaves 
 Scarce quiver in the western breeze ; 
 While stately her'ns as sentry stand, 
 Or slowly stalk along the strand. 
 The blackcock struts in lonely state, 
 The bracken hides his russet mate. 
 Where leafy boughs give pleasant shade^ 
 And pastures sweet the opening glade, 
 There you may see the gentle roe 
 Browsing beside the timid doe. 
 And butterflies, with colours gay, 
 Flit brightly 'neath the sunny ray. 
 And hail with joy returning day. 
 
 V. 
 
 When Trool's fair water wends its way 
 
 From out the parent lake, 
 It flows through groves with birches gay. 
 Where forest oaks maintain their sway ; 
 It leaps o'er boulders torn and grey. 
 And hastens on 'mid showers of spray 
 
 Its rapid course to take. 
 Its hurried race is quickly o'er, 
 Its waters lave the Minnock's shore, 
 And Minnock joins at length the Cree, 
 Then roll they onward to the sea. 
 Betwixt the Minnock and the lake, 
 
 H
 
 lo6 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Engirt with fern, and heath, and brake, 
 
 Hard by the water side, 
 A giant oak uprears its head, 
 And seems to guard the river's bed. 
 Spreading its stahvart arms around, 
 Till here and there they sweep the ground, 
 
 And form an umbrage wide. 
 Here doth a warrior vigil keep, 
 Where all around the birches weep, 
 And as their branches wave aside 
 He keenly scans the prospect wide, 
 And glances at the mountains vast, 
 Then up the glen his looks are cast, 
 He gazes on each sunny gleam 
 That dances o'er the rippling stream. 
 At intervals he lifts his eye 
 From off the water rushing by. 
 Searches the distant country far 
 For sign of England's sons of war. 
 Right well he knew Earl Pembroke's band 
 Of Southron " loons" was near at hand. 
 And mark his ever restless eye, 
 Like that of falcon soaring high. 
 Such roving gaze we oft may see 
 In huntsman coursing o'er the lea, 
 In stalker of the mountain deer 
 As to the quarry draws he near, 
 Or in the soldier's visage rife. 
 Familiar with the field of strife.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 107 
 
 VI. 
 
 He is a warrior old, I ween, 
 But brave as though his youth were green. 
 Full well can he be blithe and gay, 
 Though 'neath his helm the locks of grey 
 
 Stream down his shoulders far, 
 'Tis one of Bruce's patriot band 
 Who watches by that rugged strand, 
 And he holds his axe in his stout right hand, 
 And he wears at his side his trusty brand, 
 
 Well known to border war. 
 That trusty blade and massive axe 
 Have levied bloody toll and tax 
 
 On many an angry field. 
 Full many a knight of fame can tell 
 How when brave Ronald on them fell, 
 V/ith mighty strength and fearful yell, 
 
 Down, down went guard and shield. 
 And oft hath Moorish chieftain felt 
 That lusty blows so grimly dealt 
 
 Meant death to all around : 
 And many an English eye hath seen 
 The cheek of knight of gallant mien 
 Grow pale with fear, and think to fly 
 When first was heard the dreaded cry, 
 
 " Grim Ronald's on the ground."
 
 io8 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 VII. 
 
 His brow is scarr'd by spear and brand, 
 For once he fought in Holy Land ; 
 And blows from many an alien hand 
 
 Have been his lot to bear. 
 But every blow he well repaid, 
 And many a bloody corpse he made, 
 
 And many an oath he sware. 
 As swung his mighty axe around. 
 And struck the Moslem foe to ground. 
 And Ronald's comrades oft have told, 
 In camp and hall, of Ronald bold, 
 When the Crusaders strove to reach 
 The Holy City through the breach, 
 
 Led by a red-cross knight, 
 Of how the red-cross heroes fell. 
 And how the Moslem hordes repel 
 The Christians from that gate of hell. 
 
 As madly raged the fight ; 
 Till Ronald strode the corpses o'er, 
 A banner waving high he bore. 
 But ever with his stout right hand 
 He wielded well his bloody brand. 
 
 And dealt out death to all. 
 Then charging on the heathen band, 
 Bold Ronald quickly took his stand 
 
 Upon the city wall. 
 And when the crimson cross waved out 
 High o'er the breach a mighty shout
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. log 
 
 Of victory rent the air, 
 And in the brave Crusaders rush'd, 
 'Mid curses, groans, and clouds of dust. 
 
 And gain'd the heathen lair. 
 Then was the deed of glory done. 
 The Holy Citadel was won ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Now 'neath the oak by Trool's glad wave. 
 Stands Ronald Stewart, that warrior brave, 
 Conceal'd amongst the nodding fern 
 That grows luxuriant by the burn, 
 And watching like yon patient her'n, 
 The south, the east, and west in turn 
 
 He scans with eagle eye. 
 But neither east nor west appear, 
 Nor south, the gleam of English spear ; 
 He strains in vain his listening ear : 
 'Tis silence all ; he naught can hear 
 
 But water babbling by. 
 For here old nature holds her sway 
 As did she in primeval day, 
 
 When hill and glen were made ; 
 When, at the great Creator's word, 
 With life the face of nature stirr'd, 
 When first broke forth the song of bird, 
 And earliest roar of beast was heard 
 
 Resounding through the shade. 
 And now to while the hours away, 
 He sings aloud a martial lay,
 
 no ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 That tells of Wallace' glorious day. 
 He dreams of what must yet be done 
 AVhen foes are slain, when fields are won. 
 But when he thinks of England's hate, 
 Of many a Scottish leader's fate, 
 Of many a northern patriot's death, 
 A sadder lay rings o'er the heath. 
 
 IX. 
 SOXG. 
 
 Lament for the Brave. 
 
 Peace, peace to the noble and brave, 
 
 Ye gallant hearts gone to your rest ! 
 Full many a tear shall be shed by the grave 
 
 Of Scotia's bravest and best. 
 
 For, comrades, shall not the sons of the brave 
 
 Who fall in the van of the fight, 
 Have a glorious rest in a warrior's grave, 
 
 Their mem'ries be cherish'd and bright ? 
 
 While our chiefs that have fallen on Scotia's sod 
 
 Lie low where the heather is red, 
 We know their brave spirits have flown to their God 
 
 And sing we the praise of the dead. 
 
 Though at Athole and Wallace all London may 
 stare. 
 Then away with the tear and the sigh,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. iii 
 
 For what though the body lies mouldering there, 
 If the soul hath ascended on high ? 
 
 Though England be stain'd with our patriot gore, 
 And Edward foul vengeance may take, 
 
 There are thousands of hearts beating true on our 
 shore 
 By mountain, and river, and lake. 
 
 But we who are spared to continue the fight 
 
 Will bravely strive on to the end ; 
 So long as we battle for country and right 
 
 Our God shall the victory send. 
 
 All praise to the brave, and where'er they may lie 
 May the heather bloom bonnily o'er them, 
 
 For Caledon's sons who for fatherland die 
 Have the glories of heaven before them ! 
 
 Then patriots shoulder to shoulder shall stand. 
 
 Nor seek we with England a truce, 
 So long as we boast in our own bonnie land 
 
 Such mem'ries as Wallace and Bruce ! 
 
 Peace, peace to the noble and brave. 
 Ye gallant hearts gone to your rest ! 
 
 Full many a tear shall be shed by the grave 
 Of Scotia's bravest and best. 
 
 Silence resumes her wonted reign 
 As Ronald ceased his martial strain ;
 
 112 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 But hark, what distant sound doth greet 
 That watcher in his lone retreat 
 Beside the rocky burn ? 
 Or doth the mountain echo cheat 
 His ears ? Or was it distant bleat 
 Of shaggy goat on Craigenbae (c), 
 Calling its young to point the way 
 How best they may return 
 From Craigencallie's summit hoar ? 
 Or e'en perchance the savage boar, 
 The prowling wolf, or mountain fox, 
 Pursues his way among the rocks ; 
 Perchance the stag's defiant note 
 Hath sounded from his husky throat. 
 And glen and mountain echoing round 
 Distort and change that distant sound. 
 Or else, mayhap, 'twas eagle's cry, 
 As' soaring in yon azure sky 
 The bird is lost to human eye, 
 
 But earthward floats its voice. 
 Or croak'd the raven on its way 
 To distant Cairnsmore's summit grey, 
 Bearing along the bleeding prey. 
 To bid its young rejoice ? 
 Or perhaps that sound he heard on high (d) 
 Was but the gyre-carling's cry ? 
 Mayhap the lordly elk is dashing (e) 
 The forest through, and grimly crashing 
 His angry way through briar and brake, 
 And onward thund'ring toward the lake.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 113 
 
 His morning bath to gain ? 
 Yet Ronald lays an ear to ground, 
 And lists to catch a passing sound 
 
 Of that wild cry in vain. 
 But now that sound is heard no more, 
 And silence rests on lake and shore ; 
 All, all is still as lonely grave, 
 Except the rippling of the wave 
 That softly breaks upon the sand 
 In kisses for that lonely strand. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But scarcely had old Ronald sought 
 A calm repose in martial thought 
 That best can please his warlike brain, 
 For war is all poor Ronald's aim ; 
 And scarcely had he careless flung 
 His sword and axe the fern among, 
 And scarce his wearied body lain 
 Amongst the purple heath again, 
 When Ronald hears that eerie cry 
 Resounding through the summer sky. 
 And echoing from the mountain high 
 It sounds again, and yet once more, 
 Above the distant torrent's roar. 
 Where foams the river o'er the ledge, 
 It echoes near the water's edge. 
 Bold Ronald knew no thought of fear. 
 But never on his wondering ear 
 Had fallen such a sound before ;
 
 114 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And as he cons the matter o'er 
 He marvels will he need to fight 
 A spectre grim or goblin sprite ? 
 Perchance 'tis but a Southron foe ; 
 What meaneth, then, that cry of woe ? 
 Debates he long, at length his choice 
 Decides it is but mortal's voice. 
 
 XII. 
 
 A hastening step approaching near 
 
 Strikes upon Ronald's listening ear. 
 
 That watching soldier wondering sees 
 
 A woman's figure through the trees. 
 
 As draws the stranger on apace, 
 
 He sees no lovely maiden's face, 
 
 But 'tis a face he knows full well, 
 
 And hideous as the fiend of hell. 
 
 That grinning hag he oft had seen 
 
 Wending her way, when woods were green, 
 
 To lonely graves beside the lake, 
 
 Men's bones to steal, some charm to make. 
 
 And how 'twas said, full well he knew 
 
 That if the dreaded witch-wife threw 
 
 Her curses on a traveller's head 
 
 He soon would lie on dying bed, 
 
 Or if she blasted ship from shore 
 
 That vessel would return no more, 
 
 But if she bless'd a warrior's son. 
 
 The victory would soon be won !
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 115 
 
 Now, passing 'neath the Druids' tree, 
 She onward strides, foul sight to see — 
 The witch-wife of Loch Ochiltree (f), 
 And as she sees the warrior there 
 She mumbles many a mutter'd prayer, 
 And shakes her locks of tangled hair, 
 As on a rock she silent stands, 
 Then sudden lifts her bony hands 
 And skinny arms toward the sky, 
 And then again that eerie cry 
 Rings shrilly out on Ronald's ear, 
 Who marvels what she iisteth here. 
 But to her side he wends his way, 
 And quickly Ronald says his say. 
 And asks her can he be of use. 
 Or doth she seek the royal Bruce ? 
 
 XIII. 
 
 She quickly tells, with stifled groans, 
 And strangely weird unnatural moans. 
 How, as she stray'd by Minnock's shore 
 Yest're'en, the English varlets bore 
 Her little god-child far away ; 
 And how she search'd till break of day, 
 Until their camp she chanced to find ; 
 How thoughts of vengeance fill'd her mind ; 
 And when she saw their numbers few, 
 Her hostile plans she quickly drew ; 
 Then swiftly sped her to the glen,
 
 Il6 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 To seek for Bruce's valiant men ; 
 And how King Robert soon should see 
 The English camp beside the Cree, 
 For she will show the Bruce the way 
 To where the loons unguarded lay, 
 And how the King of Scotland may 
 Drive all his foes to Wigtown Bay, 
 And sink their bodies in the sea, 
 Or slay them on the banks of Cree ! 
 His post stout Ronald may not leave 
 Till lowly sinks the sun at eve, 
 So to the witch-wife's eager ken 
 He points the way towards the glen 
 Where she may find the Bruce's men. 
 And as she onward took her way, 
 He hums again a martial lay. 
 At intervals her dreary cry, 
 Ascending sadly to the sky, 
 Comes floating back on Ronald's ear 
 And wonder fills the forest deer. 
 Up starts the roebuck from the brake 
 That grows beside the placid lake, 
 And e'en the lordly elk his head 
 Uprears from off his mossy bed. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 King Robert heard the distant sound, 
 Loud growl'd with rage each shaggy hound. 
 His followers grasp the ready arm, 
 And marvel at the fresh alarm.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 117 
 
 With sword in hand and axe and bill 
 They muster on the heathery hill. 
 But unattended Robert goes : 
 He fears no treason from his foes, — 
 No Southron knave could gain the glen 
 Unseen by one of Uruce's men; 
 And Ronald Stewart guards the way, 
 So none can pass by night or day. 
 Hurries the monarch from his cave, 
 And seeks the lake's romantic wave, 
 And meets the witch-wife by the pool 
 Of alders near the head of Trool. 
 Now bows the hag toward the ground 
 For joy she hath King Robert found, 
 And then she tells the Bruce her name — 
 Not all unknown to Scotland's fame — 
 Her neighbours call her Grizell Graem. 
 How by Loch Ochiltree she dwells : 
 Slowly the hag her story tells. 
 With curses low and mutter'd prayer, 
 What brought her to her monarch there. 
 How glares her keen but sunken eye 
 As lifts she both her hands on high, 
 And then looks upward to the sky, 
 And swears that when at early dawn 
 She heard the foeman's mustering horn. 
 She swiftly hasten'd up the glen 
 In search of valiant Bruce's men, — 
 Declares she comes the truth to tell, 
 " For, faith ! she loves her monarch well ! "
 
 Il8 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 XV. 
 
 When Grizell Graem has had her say, 
 A soldier leads the hag away, 
 And takes her struggling up the hill, 
 For troth she goes against her will ; 
 She begs the King to grant her leave 
 To wend her home before the eve. 
 But Gilbert Haye, who standing near 
 Had whisper'd in King Robert's ear, 
 An order to the soldier gave 
 To take old Grizell to the cave, 
 And keep her safely 'neath his eye, 
 And bind her, should she dare to fly. 
 Now 'cross the lake comes swiftly o'er 
 A boat from off the further shore, 
 And in it sits a lovely maid, 
 In simple lowland garb array'd : 
 A silver-mounted bugle horn 
 Was o'er her shoulder gaily worn, 
 And on her head a bonnet blue 
 Confined her locks of golden hue. 
 Beside her in the boat were laid 
 Her bow, her arrows, and her plaid. 
 And as she lightly leapt to land, 
 And drew the shallop up the strand, 
 Edward his royal brother told, 
 " Yon maiden with those locks of gold 
 Doth hail from loyal Garlics' tower. 
 For well he knew this forest flower."
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 119 
 
 Then Edward Bruce and Malcolm Haye 
 Haste quickly to the shore away, 
 Receive the maid with jealous care, 
 And to her royal message bear, 
 Whereby the King doth humbly crave 
 Her presence in the royal cave : — 
 "The mountain home of Robert Bruce 
 Would e'en be honoured by her use." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 While in the cave the feast was spread, 
 
 WTiile mirth was high and wine ran red, 
 
 While loud the laughter echoed round, 
 
 When Lady Alice Graem had found 
 
 In Marg'ret Stewart a friend of youth, 
 
 Desired the King to learn the truth, 
 
 Why Lady Margaret left her bower. 
 
 Why wander'd she from Garlics' tower ? 
 
 Though, by his faith, he loved to see 
 
 A lady fair, of high degree, 
 
 And when she wish'd his cheer to share, 
 
 She would be ever welcome there. 
 
 Replying to the King's request, 
 
 Fair Margaret tells with loyal zest 
 
 How Grizell Graem with lying tongue 
 
 Had been the English foe among. 
 
 And how 'twas known Earl Pembroke * bold 
 
 By silver won the witch-wife old 
 
 To draw King Robert from the glen, 
 
 * See note H to Canto II.
 
 I20 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 When fifteen hundred vaUant men, 
 The pick of all the Southron force 
 Would on him fall with foot and horse. 
 And how could Bruce's patriot band 
 Against the numerous foemen stand? 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Now, lady, by my royal word 
 And by the feelings thou hast stirr'd 
 Within my breast, the witch hath err'd. 
 But many a hero hath been sold, 
 And many a glorious patriot bold, 
 And many a life for love of gold 
 
 Ere now hath pass'd away. 
 Then shall the Bruce his vengeance take. 
 Example of a woman make, 
 And drown the witch-wife in the lake ? 
 
 Nay ! gentle lady, nay ! 
 I would not be like England's king, 
 And on my name dishonour bring ! 
 When rings the Bruce's bugle horn 
 Upon the hills to-morrow morn, 
 That lying hag shall surely be 
 Again beside the shores of Cree, 
 Back to De Valance shall she go, 
 And bear our message to the foe, 
 That Bruce, with his three hundred men, 
 Awaits his coming in the glen. 
 And come they soon, or come they late,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. I2I 
 
 They there shall meet the invader's fate. 
 And if the English venture here, 
 We give them, ladies, royal cheer ! " 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 A warrior then the monarch sends, 
 Who with the witch-wife swiftly wends 
 His way to Minnock's rocky shore, 
 And helps her wade the river o'er. 
 Then where the English army lay 
 Alone she sought her rapid way, 
 And to the gallant Pembroke bold 
 How few were with the Bruce she told, 
 And if to Trool he swiftly sped 
 He might obtain the traitor's head. — 
 " How can that puny monarch boast ? 
 How dare defy Lord Pembroke's host ? 
 How could he hope to hold the glen. 
 With bare two hundred mountain men, 
 Against that gallant English band ? 
 'Gainst southern bow and Enghsh brand ? 
 'Gainst many a knight who trod the strand 
 Of battle in the Holy Land ? 
 When Clifford lets his archers loose, 
 Short be the shrift of outlaw'd Bruce ! 
 When trump and drum resounding far, 
 And all the pomp of southern war, 
 Go echoing up the lonely glen, 
 'Twill doom to death the Brace's men ! " 
 
 I
 
 122 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Old Grizell's speech Lord Pembroke hears, 
 And falls it bravely on his ears. 
 He with his leaders counsel holds, 
 And ere the gloom of evening folds 
 The English camp with misty veil, 
 Their plans are form'd, and each detail 
 'With thoughtful care is wisely laid, 
 And all their converse bravely made 
 Of how the victory shall be won 
 Ere on the morrow sets the sun. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 When Grizell left the patriot's cave, 
 
 How pass'd the time those warriors brave ? 
 
 Did they the royal feast prolong ? 
 
 Cheer'd they the eve with joyous song? 
 
 Or danced the maids their favourite reels 
 
 While loud the merry music peals ? 
 
 Lasted the revel till the light 
 
 Of morn dispell'd the murk of night ? 
 
 Ah ! no, far other task employs 
 
 The patriot's hand than festive joys, 
 
 Far more the warrior's noble art 
 
 Than pleasure fills each northern heart ! 
 
 As evening shadows gathering round 
 
 Are cast upon that rocky ground, 
 
 Three hundred men stand muster'd there, 
 
 With Bruce and with those damsels fair : 
 
 And all that gallant loyal band.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 123 
 
 With bill and sword and axe in hand, 
 
 Betake their way, as falls the night, 
 
 To grim Muldonnoch's lofty height, 
 
 That overlooks the deepest pool 
 
 Far, far below, of bonnie Trool. 
 
 Three hundred warriors arm'd for fight, 
 
 Toil'd bravely through that summer night. 
 
 Three hundred mighty granite blocks (g) 
 
 Are loosen'd from their parent rocks, 
 
 With stalwart arms and iron bars 
 
 They toil beneath the twinkling stars. 
 
 When o'er the scene the moon doth shine, 
 
 Of massive boulders many a line 
 
 Is rear'd upon Muldonnoch's crest, 
 
 Or poised upon its rugged breast, 
 
 And ready for the morning light 
 
 To usher in the coming fight. 
 
 Though each upon their pivots rest, 
 
 A stranger glancing up had guess'd 
 
 That nought disturb'd the mountain's breast. 
 
 The Bruce surveys the work with care 
 
 The deadly trap to well prepare. 
 
 And many a loyal Scottish air 
 
 To cheer the workers toiling there 
 
 The Lady AUce Graem doth sing. 
 
 And through the night rude voices ring 
 
 A lusty chorus to her song, 
 
 Which echoing loud the hills prolong.
 
 124 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 XX. 
 
 The snare is baited : all is done, 
 Ere in the east appear'd the sun, 
 Then called the King his followers bold, 
 The plan of fight to each he told, 
 How they will on INIuldonnoch wait 
 While ride the foe toward their fate ; 
 How he to other vantage ground, 
 Whence he can scan the country round, 
 Would wend his way, so he may view 
 The coming of the Southron crew. 
 Then bless'd the King his warriors brave, 
 And to them parting mandate gave : 
 " Our royal orders now obey. 
 So that the Bruce may win the day ! 
 When first ye hear our bugle horn 
 Awake the silence of the morn. 
 Then shall ye know our searching eye 
 The squadrons of the foe can spy. 
 Then grasp each brother by the hand, 
 And swear to free our bonnie land 
 From English Edward's hated yoke, 
 And see our tyrant fetters broke ! 
 ^Vho would not love his native land, 
 Would not defend her cherish'd strand 
 
 Whene'er occasion came, 
 When hearth and home and every band 
 Unite her children hand in hand 
 
 To die for Scotland's fame ?
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 125 
 
 Who would not love the purple heath ? 
 Who doth not love the scented breath 
 From fir and birch and rowan trees, 
 That floats upon the summer breeze 
 From woods on every hand ? 
 Where branches shield the sun's hot ray 
 The roebuck doth his doe survey, 
 While round the pair their offspring play, 
 Or list'ning silent stand ? 
 
 If so ye think,— the varlets slay ! 
 
 With corpses bar the invaders' way, 
 
 And fill the windings of the glen 
 
 With mangled heaps of Pembroke's men ! " 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " When next aloud the bugle blast 
 (The second time but not the last) 
 Is wafted past your listening ears. 
 Then learn that nearer come the spears. 
 And know ye that the foremost foe 
 Hath reach'd the lake of Trool below, 
 Think then of Scotia's days of fame, 
 And times of olden glory name, 
 And dream ye of her ancient kings, 
 While yet the bugle echoing rings, 
 And lift ye all your eyes on high, 
 And pray to conquer or to die. 
 Make once again your children free. 
 And fight for them, and think on me !
 
 126 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Crouch low beside each tottering rock, 
 Be ready for that awful shock, 
 When ye, my trusty Carrick men (h). 
 Shall hurl the mountain down the glen ! 
 And, royal brother, thine the care 
 No sign of this our deadly snare 
 Can meet the searching eye below. 
 When toward the lake approach the foe ; 
 See ne'er a follower's bonnet blue 
 Contrasts the heather's russet hue. 
 Let knife, and bow, and shaft be laid 
 Amid the verdant bracken's shade ; 
 Your ready pikes be all conceal'd, 
 And hidden every warrior's shield : 
 Let ne'er a naked weapon's gleam 
 Be dancing in some sunny beam. 
 And glitter on the mountain side, 
 And warn the foemen as they ride, 
 A gallant gay and warlike band, 
 Along Trool's fair but deadly strand ! 
 And make each soldier lowly crouch, 
 Or lie full-length on heathy couch. 
 Be sure that not a point of lance 
 May shining meet their upward glance ; 
 But silence as the depth profound 
 Of ocean cave must reign around, 
 So naught but granite, heath, and sky 
 Be there to meet the enquiring eye."
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 127 
 
 XXII. 
 
 '* With bray of trump and beat of drum, 
 I would my lord of Pembroke come 
 
 To taste our Scottish cheer. 
 For if he pierce our lone retreat, 
 And dare once more the Bruce to greet, 
 By good Saint Andrew he shall meet 
 
 A royal welcome here ! 
 Reproach 'twould be upon our name 
 Did we not greet the gallant Vane (i) 
 
 With martial pomp and pride ! 
 Their welcome with my bugle horn 
 Shall wake the echoes of the morn. 
 And e'en the rocks shall cry aloud 
 In welcome to those warriors proud, 
 
 ■When up the glen they ride. 
 But when ye hear the third blast sound, 
 Then make ye all the rocks rebound, 
 
 And give your welcome then ! 
 For by my soul, such kingly cheer 
 As they receive who venture here. 
 
 They scarce shall wish again ! 
 For grace before the banquet's spread 
 They'll hear resounding over head 
 
 The slogan's deadly yell (j). 
 For priest the benison to say, 
 The Bruce shall wind his bugle gay 
 
 On fair Eschoncan's fell. 
 And at the Bruce's mountain meal
 
 128 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 They'll learn the taste of Scottish steel. 
 Nor shall the varlets want for wine, 
 Though 'tis not press'd from Gallic vine, 
 Nor trod by foot of Spanish maids, 
 Nor from Italia's sunny glades. 
 Our liquor here, both white and red, 
 Is made in ghastly form and dread : 
 'Tis brew'd, in sooth, of southern gore. 
 And they who drink it, drink no more ! 
 But they shall quaff, and deeply too, 
 Nor shall they lack the ruddy hue. 
 But take it from the swirling pool 
 As sink they 'neath the waves of Trool, 
 When mixes with the crystal flood 
 The English yeoman's crimson blood ! " 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 When once again the sun rose high. 
 When sought the lark the azure sky, 
 When mists of night were rising still. 
 From Trool to grim Muldonnoch's hill. 
 Then Robert Bruce, and Gilbert Haye, 
 And Malcolm took their hasty way 
 Across the bosom of the lake, 
 And upward climb'd 'mid heath and brake 
 To fair Eschoncan's lofty crest. 
 Whence gazed they on Muldonnoch's breast. 
 Studded with many a massive rock, 
 And many a towering granite block
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 129 
 
 Which grimly guard the glen below, 
 And wait the coming of the foe. 
 And Lady Alice Graem is there, 
 And Margaret Stewart, gay and fair, 
 In silence sits beside the King, 
 While gaily round the ouzels sing. 
 Their maidens rest amongst the brake. 
 And gaze upon the quiet lake, 
 That sweetly sleei)ing far below 
 Shone in the sunlight's early glow. 
 But when across the lake they cast 
 Their eyes, they saw but boulders vast, 
 Where now the northern warriors lurk, 
 All eager for their deadly work. 
 But all around the song of bird 
 This summer morn is blithely heard. 
 Old nature guards the lovely vale, 
 And holds her sway o'er hill and dale. 
 How sad such happy scene as this, 
 Where all is steep'd in perfect bliss, 
 So soon should be a field of strife, 
 With human passion fiercely rife ; 
 That all too soon the limpid flood 
 Of fair loch Trool be stain'd with blood, 
 And while man's anger holds its sway, 
 God's creatures haste in fear away !
 
 I30 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 While still the early sunbeams rest 
 
 Upon Eschoncan's highest crest, 
 
 Ere melts beneath its rays the dew, 
 
 Appear'd upon the Bruce's view 
 
 The English army far away, 
 
 But onward marching, brave and gay. 
 
 The summer sun in golden sheen. 
 
 Shone down upon that warlike stream, 
 
 As nearer still the foeman drew 
 
 More gallant from the hill the view. 
 
 Such sight, I trow, had fired the heart 
 
 Of him who loves the warrior's art. 
 
 Of him who loves the war-horse tramp, 
 
 Who loves to dwell in tented camp ! — 
 
 Would quit a peaceful dwelling for 
 
 The glorious panoply of war ! 
 
 Who well could charge with streaming crest. 
 
 Who foremost in the battle press'd ; 
 
 Would please who loves, like Bruce, to see 
 
 The gallant pride of chivalry. 
 
 He watch'd from off his 'vantage rock, 
 
 (Which soon shall hear the battle shock,) 
 
 The unsuspecting foemen come, 
 
 With flare of trump and beat of drum, 
 
 With England's banner flaunting high. 
 
 An insult to the northern sky ! 
 
 But soon Saint Andrew's cross shall wave 
 
 Victorious o'er the Southron's grave !
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 131 
 
 The army like some monster snake 
 Slow winds its way toward the lake, 
 Fold after fold appearing still, 
 As creeps a serpent up the hill. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 But hark ! a blast both loud and clear 
 
 Falls on Lord Pembroke's listening ear ; 
 
 With bugle horn each mountain rings, 
 
 And countless answers echo brings. 
 
 As pressing on the soldiers crowd, 
 
 The haughty Pembroke cries aloud, 
 
 " That bugle blast full well I know 
 
 Is blown by Bruce, our mortal foe : 
 
 Press on, press on, my trusty men, 
 
 And hasten from this loathsome glen ! 
 
 I would that traitor king espy, 
 
 And make the rebel yield or die. 
 
 And when the Scottish knave be dead, 
 
 Our courier, with the traitor's head, 
 
 Shall post full speed to fair CarUsle, 
 
 Where will the bloody gift beguile 
 
 Our good King Edward's hours of pain (k). 
 
 And prove that traitors strive in vain. 
 
 Then shall our praises loudly ring, 
 
 Of Pembroke every bard shall sing ! 
 
 Then shall be raised, all ghastly red. 
 
 On naked pike the traitor's head ; 
 
 His fate a lesson grim shall be
 
 132 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 O'er Carlisle gate for all to see ! (l) 
 A princely sum, my merry men, we set upon his 
 
 head, 
 A thousand crowns to him who takes the Bruce 
 alive or dead ! " 
 Now every knight uplifts his hand, 
 And every warrior bares his brand. 
 And every soldier lifts his bill, 
 And every archer on the hill 
 
 His bow prepares for use. 
 A mighty shout goes up on high, 
 And wakes the echoes in the sky ; 
 The startled fowl flit screaming by, 
 And thrice five hundred voices cry 
 
 " Death ! death ! to Robert Bruce ! " 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 My faith ! but 'twas a glorious sight 
 As Bruce from off the mountain height, 
 
 Conceal'd from English ken, 
 Surve/d the foe with fierce delight, 
 As thought he on the woeful plight 
 
 AVould 'fall them in the glen. 
 Full well he knew the dappled horse 
 Of him who led that valiant force 
 
 Of fifteen hundred men. 
 Full well he knew his helm and crest, 
 That oft in foremost rank had prest 
 
 On many a bloody field.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 133 
 
 And then Saint George's cross he saw 
 Borne stately 'mid the ranks of war, 
 
 On banner as on shield. 
 A patriot light shone in his eye, 
 And Lady Margaret hears him cry, 
 " The northern eagle may disgorge, 
 But good Saint Andrew to Saint George 
 
 The Bruce will never yield ! " 
 He sees below Lord Clifford ride, 
 Of Cumberland the flower and pride ; 
 While close beside him gallant Vane 
 His charger spurs, and plies his rein. 
 The entrance of the glen to gain. 
 And many a stalwart knight is there. 
 And many a pennon floating fair. 
 And two by two the horsemen gay 
 Press onward up the narrow way. 
 While archers breast the mountain side, 
 And safety for the flanks provide, 
 The southern horsemen proudly ride, 
 Their streaming banners floating wide 
 
 In serried ranks beneath. 
 While clouds of men, with pike and bill, 
 Hover behind them on the hill. 
 
 Half hid amongst the heath. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 But still more narrow grows the way, 
 And winds beside a quiet bay.
 
 134 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Now onward press the knights amain, 
 
 When ringing o'er the hills again 
 
 Once more the King his bugle blows, 
 
 And strikes fresh terror on his foes. 
 
 From all the vanguard rose a cry, 
 
 " The Bruce ! the Bruce ! " And every eye 
 
 Was turn'd toward the northern sky, 
 
 From whence appear'd to sound the blast 
 
 That on the breeze went floating past. 
 
 But though their eyes could sweep the glen, « 
 
 No sign of Bruce or Bmce's men 
 
 Could Clifford or De Valance spy, | 
 
 But rock and heather met their eye, 
 
 And clumps of fern and boulders rude, 
 
 As well became that solitude. 
 
 But still the Southrons may not know 
 
 What doom awaits them : on they go. 
 
 For what shall hap to make them stay ? 
 
 And who may dare to bar their way ? 
 
 The horsemen two abreast march on 
 
 Until the steps of Trool they won (m). 
 
 The archers now must quit the flanks. 
 
 And join in rear the English ranks. 
 
 The battle surging round the lake 
 
 Shall soon the mountain echoes wake. 
 
 And now no longer side by side 
 
 Along the path the horsemen ride ; 
 
 In single file they forward strain, 
 
 And stoutly press they on again.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 135 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 And looking on Muldonnoch's height 
 The Bruce surveys a wondrous sight. 
 Beside each mighty granite rock — 
 
 Stand waiting there his gallant men, 
 Who may withstand the awful shock 
 
 When rolls the mountain down the glen ? — 
 Now gleams with fire each patriot's eye, 
 And patriot hearts are beating high, 
 As once again the mountains vast 
 Re-echo to the bugle's blast ! 
 A fearful shout at once is heard. 
 And greets the ears of beast and bird. 
 Muldonoch's side doth heave and quake, 
 The very earth appears to shake : 
 And fragments fill the air on high, 
 And clouds of dust the summer sky! 
 Quick starts the dipper from his rest ; 
 Quick swims the diver from her nest 
 Upon her rushy islet lone : 
 The osprey from his rock hath flown : 
 The falcon courses through the sky : 
 The buzzard's voice resounds on high. 
 Listens the wild boar in his lair. 
 And Hstening sits the silent hare. 
 All wondering stands the gentle roe 
 The cause of this turmoil to know. 
 The mountain fox his slumber breaks, 
 And in his den the wolf awakes.
 
 136 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And deeper in the forest shade, 
 Where owls sit dreaming by the glade, 
 Birds scream and chatter at the sound 
 That fills the woods for miles around, 
 And marvel at the din of war 
 That echoes o'er the hills afar. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Down, down upon that fated band, 
 Like angry ocean on the strand. 
 Or whirlwind o'er the desert sand, 
 
 The mighty mountain rolls ! 
 A yell of fear ascends on high, 
 And prayers for mercy rend the sky, 
 Alas ! no human aid is nigh. 
 
 Ye poor, predestined souls ! 
 Now awful curses fill the air. 
 And all around is wild despair, 
 And they who lead that gallant van 
 Press m.adly forward, horse and man ; 
 And urge their steeds with spur and rein 
 The entrance of the pass to gain. 
 While some to turn their chargers strive, 
 And some to gain the lake contrive. 
 And through the waters swim or dive. 
 Now England's warriors in the glen, — 
 A host of panic-stricken men, — 
 Look upward with despairing eye. 
 And see there is no time to fly ;
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. \yi 
 
 What may they do but bravely die ? 
 And yet 'tis hard to perish so, 
 To part with life without a blow ! 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Far louder than the deafening roar 
 
 Of torrent swollen wide, 
 Far swifter than the squadrons pour, 
 
 As charge they in their pride, 
 As whirlwinds sweep the moorland o'er, 
 
 So, with gigantic stride, 
 Speeds downward, leaping t'ward the shore, 
 
 The very mountain side ! 
 Down, down the massive boulders go 
 Toward the path, far, far below. 
 Where squire and knight still proudly ride. 
 And strive their prancing steeds to guide 
 In safety by that devious way. 
 Alas ! poor souls, an easy prey 
 To Bruce, who watches from above 
 The avalanche upon you move. 
 Now all is terror by the wave, 
 And none are there to help or save ! 
 "Onward !" the foremost soldiers cry, 
 " Ride back !" the knights in rear reply. 
 Warriors, alas 1 too late ! too late ! 
 The invader meets his destined fate ! 
 Do\vn must ye sink beneath the wave. 
 And find in Trool your silent grave ! 
 
 K
 
 138 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Down, down, must horse and horsemen go, 
 As Scotland triumphs o'er her foe ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Down, do\vn ! those awful boulders grey 
 Have thunder'd to the narrow way. 
 And on the foe their vengeance take. 
 And crush or hurl them in the lake 
 Whose waters yield them to the blow, 
 As sink they to the depth below ! 
 The quiet lake is fury lash'd, 
 Its sparkling waters high are dash'd, 
 The sun above 'mid showers of spray 
 In rainbow colours paints his ray. 
 And all around the streaming blood 
 Is mingling with the limpid flood, 
 'Midst piercing yell and dying groan, 
 And shouts of hate and drowning moan. 
 Ye heavens ! what a ghastly strife 
 Of human passions fiercely rife ! 
 The frighted chargers upward rear, 
 For you, poor steeds, no help is near, 
 And gallant horses soon or late 
 May meet in war the warrior's fate. 
 But deem me not like woman weak 
 If rests the tear upon my cheek, 
 And sorrow dims my eye, 
 Whene'er a favourite steed hath pass'd 
 His life's short span, and o'er him fast
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 139 
 
 The shadows of the grave are cast, 
 
 And he lies down to die. 
 Then well I know my steed no more 
 Shall skim the verdant pastures o'er, 
 No more shall hear with joy the sound 
 Of hunter's horn and cry of hound, 
 Nor charge where gory fields are won. 
 Poor gallant horse ! his race is run ! 
 And when he heaves his dying sigh, 
 And gently turns his faithful eye 
 To mine, as though he wish'd to say, 
 " Adieu, dear Master, and for aye." — 
 'Tis then I feel my heart would break 
 In honest sorrow for his sake. 
 And all my wealth I'd freely give 
 If once again that steed might live. 
 And bend him to the yielding rein, 
 While yet once more we scour the plain. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 But what of Bruce's val'rous band, — 
 Still do they on Muldonnoch stand, 
 And watch the scene of blood beneath ? 
 Nay, down they speed o'er rock and heath, 
 Soon as they hasted on its way 
 The avalanche upon the prey. 
 Now rush those warriors down below, 
 And hurl themselves upon the foe 
 With shouts of rage and savage yell,
 
 140 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And cries that of the victory tell, 
 
 And swift pursue Lord Pembroke's men, 
 
 Who speed in terror down the glen. 
 
 The few who are alive to flee 
 
 Are spurring madly toward the Cree. 
 
 But hark ! of fear another cry 
 
 In rear goes upward to the sky, 
 
 And faster still the Southrons fly : 
 
 And what fresh foemen hotly pour 
 
 With rush as of the torrent's roar 
 
 Upon the English flanks ? 
 Those horsemen issued from the wood, 
 Where well conceal'd they silent stood, 
 
 Hid from the southern ranks. 
 When march'd their army up the glen : 
 But few shall see the Cree again ! 
 Brave Edward's band of horsemen true 
 Burst from the wood in numbers few. 
 But press'd they on their flying foes, 
 Down many an archer lifeless goes, 
 And many a Scottish patriot's brand 
 Well wielded by accustom'd hand. 
 Took speedy vengeance as it pass'd 
 On those who, breathless, loiter'd last. 
 Well do the northern horsemen know — 
 However brave or fierce the foe, — 
 No knight could win that mountain glen, 
 Nor one of all Lord Pembroke's men 
 
 Could pierce their phalanx through. 
 For who may brook Lord Edward's charge.
 
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 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 141 
 
 Of what avail is English targe 
 
 'Gainst lance of Scottish yew ? 
 Nor steel cuirass, nor coat of mail, 
 May brook grim Edward's first assail ! 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 How fared that gallant arrny now, 
 And how hath Pembroke kept his vow 
 To take the Bruce alive or dead, 
 And send his king the patriot's head ? 
 That army scant asylum found 
 Amongst the thick'ning woods around, 
 Fell many on the banks of Cree, 
 Some struggled onward to the sea, 
 And some to England sped their way, 
 Some gave their lives by Wigtown Bay, 
 While in fair Trool's romantic glen 
 The vict'ry shout of Bruce's men 
 Was loudly ringing far and wide 
 Till on the passing breeze it died, 
 But only to be heard again 
 As joy the conqu'rors o'er the slain ; 
 And yet once more that victor shout 
 Upon the ear peals grandly out. 
 In every crevice wild it rings, 
 And countless answers quickly brings ; 
 And loud the notes of triumph swell, 
 And echo far o'er wild Craignell. 
 It sounded from Cairngarroch high,
 
 142 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And grim Craignelder sent reply ; 
 It came from Craigencallie's height, 
 Where lonely sat the brooding kite. 
 That mighty shout of victory told, 
 As wildly up the glen it roll'd, 
 
 And on to lone Loch Dee ; 
 Whose wavelets round her lovely shore. 
 The notes of triumph onward bore, 
 
 And danced and leapt for glee ! 
 And onward still through Buchan's shades, 
 O'er mountains bare, through verdant glades, 
 The news of Bruce's victory went. 
 By favouring breezes onward sent !
 
 CANTO IV.
 
 INTRODUCTION TO CANTO IV. 
 
 Dedicated to 
 
 The Countess of Selkirk. 
 
 By mountain wild, by stream and sea, 
 Oh ! wander, lady fair, with me ! 
 And I will show thee many a glen 
 Far distant from the haunts of men ; 
 Where broom is golden, heather red, 
 The bluebell rears its lovely head, 
 And where the thick'ning boughs above 
 A shelter give the gentle dove, 
 Where birds' glad voices fill the air, 
 And wild flowers shed their fragrance rare. 
 The course we'll trace of Ken and Dee, 
 From hills of Ayr to Sohvay's sea. 
 And many a gem shall please thine eye 
 As each glad scene in turn glides by, 
 'Mid nature's glimpses wild and rare, 
 For Galloway is passing fair. 
 
 Our wand'ring way we'll gaily take 
 By placid Ken's romantic lake ;
 
 146 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 The landscape round is fair and sweet, 
 Where Ken and Dee together meet. 
 All verdant is the flow'ry lea 
 By Michael's Cross and Balmaghie. 
 While openings in the woods reveal 
 The wild fantastic hill of Screel ; 
 And, crested by its rocky cairn. 
 Lies close beside the high Bengairn. 
 We'll dream of Douglas as we leave (a) 
 The lonely tower of ancient Threave, 
 And seawards with the river wind 
 Till Tongueland's bridge is left behind (b), 
 Where the first Edward's health was drunk 
 In olden time by prior and monk. 
 And quit we then the silver Dee, 
 Where its bright waters flowing free 
 Glide on to meet the advancing sea ; 
 Past old Kirkcudbright's ivied tower, 
 I'll leave thee in thy favourite bower, 
 And bid thee rest, with grateful smile (c). 
 In sweet Saint Mary's lovely isle. 
 
 ***** 
 
 When summer's bright and azure sky 
 Is streak'd by ne'er a cloud ; 
 And sweet Carsphairn nestles nigh 
 The Deugh, that flows so gently by, 
 And curlews circle round on high, 
 And whistle clear and loud, 
 Then rest a while, and scan the scene.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 147 
 
 In yonder fields so rich and green 
 
 The cattle basking lie : 
 Yon heights are clad in heathy sheen, 
 And countless burns with silver gleam 
 
 Gladden the straining eye. 
 ^Vhat varying sights these mountains bold 
 Have look'd upon, in days of old ! 
 For 'neath the sod are many laid 
 Who, man or matron, boy or maid," 
 
 Here happ'ly dwelt for years. 
 Secure, and free from border raid, 
 Their reels they danced with lightsome tread, 
 
 Nor thought they then of tears ! 
 But they are gone. Their offspring now 
 People the smiling plain below 
 
 Their sires had loved so well. 
 And as the strangers come and go. 
 Full many a one hath marvell'd how 
 
 A shepherd here can dwell ! 
 For lonely 'tis : indeed, the eye 
 Meets nought but mountains tow'ring high 
 
 Where clouds each other chase, 
 That with the wild birds seem to vie 
 Who first shall reach the azure sky, 
 
 Or lose themselves in space. 
 
 Look we on scenes their fathers saw, 
 Those distant precipices hoar 
 Are just as fearsome as of yore, 
 
 And quite as steep and grey.
 
 148 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And still the eagles proudly soar, 
 Scanning each glen and hillside o'er, 
 
 Watching in search of prey. 
 And still we see the roedeer come, 
 As from the woods they sportive run 
 And onward wend their silent way, 
 When slowly with expiring ray 
 Amidst the Kells the sinking sun (d), 
 Its shadows' o'er the mountains flung, 
 Proclaims the closing of the light, 
 And heralds in the coming night. 
 
 There Cairnsmore still gigantic stands (e) ; 
 Its cairn, though piled by human hands 
 
 In ages long bygone, 
 Looks weird, and hasty prayer demands 
 From any wild marauding bands 
 
 Who thither chance to roam, 
 For shepherds oft lost life and way 
 Among those massive boulders grey, 
 Where white grouse once in safety lay. 
 And where, secure from sleuth-hound's bay. 
 
 The foxes make their home. 
 And yonder seaward flows the Deugh, 
 That cleav€s the purple valley through. 
 Far past Marscalloch's mountain see. 
 Above the pine trees round Glenlee, 
 
 Crown'd with a blue cloud--wTeath, 
 A pointed summit fair to see, — 
 The famous " Black Craig o' the Dee " (f).
 
 ROBERT^ THE BRUCE. 149 
 
 That guards the stream beneath, 
 Which dark and sullen swiftly creeps, 
 Where willows wave o'er wat'ry deeps. 
 
 Past many a dark'ning lea. 
 And then with quaint, fantastic sweeps, 
 O'er mighty rocks unbridled leaps. 
 
 It thunders toward the sea, 
 And past Dalshangan and Dun-deugh 
 Spreads softly out in fairer view (g) 
 
 The lovely vale of Ken, 
 Engirt with mountains gaunt and high, 
 Where o'er the rocks the breezes sigh, 
 Where oft is heard the plover's cry, 
 And russet-plumaged moorfowl fly 
 
 Far from the haunts of men. 
 
 But if we leave these mountains wild, 
 Full many a rosy labourer's child, 
 
 With countenance serene. 
 We'll meet with as our way we take 
 O'er moss and fell, through briar and brake, 
 
 To view a homely scene. 
 Hemm'd in by cottage gardens neat, 
 A long and straight old-fashioned street, 
 
 Where plays the summer breeze, 
 Environ'd sweet by many a hill, 
 New Galloway there nestles still. 
 
 Half hid amongst the trees. 
 And further on the turrets high 
 Of Kenmure Castle meet the eye,
 
 ISO ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And 'gainst the sky stand clear, 
 And looking o'er the lime tree tops, 
 One wonders, if one loudly knocks 
 
 A warder would appear ! 
 
 No, gentle dame ; those days are past 
 When the portcullis gloomy cast 
 
 Around its shadow drear. 
 No sentinels the courtyard tread, 
 No banner proudly floats o'erhead, 
 
 No hounds the sleepers wake. 
 No beacon casts its ruddy light 
 From off the watch tower's giddy height, 
 
 Reflected in the lake. 
 We never more shall see the day 
 When Kenmure's powers in bright array, 
 
 To battle issue forth. 
 For Gordon's men were widely known 
 And fear'd in many a mountain home, 
 
 East, south, and west and north ! 
 
 No knights hold revel in the halls, 
 Nor use the armour on the walls 
 
 That glanced in many a fight. 
 Those ancient swords, all rusty now, 
 Fell "dour"* on many a southern "pow" t 
 
 In days when might was right. 
 When cross'd the Solway's yellow strand 
 Full many a Scotch marauding band 
 
 * Hard. \ Head.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 151 
 
 To " lift the English kye." * 
 Victorious oft, — if put to rout, 
 They northward turn'd their steeds about, 
 And though they fly, their battle shout 
 Upon the air rings loudly out, 
 
 " No Gordon fears to die ! " 
 
 Then climb we now grey Bennan's side (h). 
 And view a panorama wide 
 
 North, south, and left and right, 
 Beneath our feet, far far below 
 Loch Ken's fair bosom seems to glow 
 
 And sparkle in the light. 
 Beyond the lakes are fields of corn, 
 And many a farm whose verdant lawn 
 
 Touches the shelving shore. 
 And gently sweeping hills above, 
 Where still the sportsman loves to rove 
 
 And search the heather o'er. 
 Strange sights yon mountain view'd, I ween, 
 When glitt'ring bright in armour's sheen 
 
 The Southrons came from far. 
 And all around fair memory teems. 
 With Bruce and Douglas, patriot themes ; 
 On Lowran's braes one fondly dreams 
 
 Of young lord Lochinvar (i) ! 
 Now to the northward cast your eyes, 
 And fairer scene you'd scarce devise, 
 
 E'en with magician's aid ! 
 
 * To " capture the English cattle."
 
 152 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Yon mountains where the breezes mourn. 
 Whose fissured sides all waterworn, 
 And mighty crests by whirlwinds torn, 
 
 The Bruce hath oft survey'd. 
 While, toward the south, where fields are green, 
 Gladdens the eye a sweeter scene, 
 And pastures dot the prospect o'er, 
 Far stretching to the Solway's shore, 
 And bring to mind brave days of yore, 
 
 When, foremost in the fight. 
 The grim Black Douglas scour'd the plain ; 
 And Edward Bruce, his charger's rein (j) 
 
 Check'd by yon rocky height. 
 And as he scann'd the country o'er, 
 His royal brother Edward swore 
 Should o'er this lovely district reign 
 "When Scotland won her own again. 
 
 But now descend we to the vale. 
 And once again resume our tale.
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 STANZA I. 
 
 The wintry night was closing round 
 
 The fairy lake of Ken, 
 A snow-white mantle clothed the ground, 
 The frosty shore was iron bound ; 
 
 The wild fowl sought the fen. 
 And Kenmure's Castle proudly stood (a) 
 As guardian o'er the neighbouring wood, 
 All peaceful on a rising mound, 
 As if she knew no martial sound, 
 
 Nor tramp of arming men. 
 And 'gainst the sky shone full and clear 
 The sentinel with bow and spear, 
 As gazed he on the distant hill. 
 Or spoke the challenge loud and shrill. 
 And on its turrets worn and grey 
 The pale sweet moon had shed her ray, 
 As daylight's beauties fled away. 
 Yet moans the wintry wind on high, 
 And fleeting through the angry sky
 
 154 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 The hurrying clouds each other chase, 
 And through the heavens seem to race. 
 As often hid the moon her face, 
 At intervals when waned the light, 
 A sombre darkness veil'd the night. 
 
 II. 
 
 But when the moon shone forth once more, 
 Then brightly gleam'd the frosty shore, 
 And strangely grim the oak trees stood 
 Like spectres in the leafless wood. 
 And yonder boulders scatter'd round 
 Seem'd monster creatures on the ground ; 
 And blasted firs and ancient thorns 
 Seem'd all possess'd of heads and horns. 
 As in the moonlight waved each limb 
 Appear'd like phantoms foul and grim, 
 And yonder row of giant elms 
 A rank of knights with waving helms, 
 As stretch'd they each a trembling arm 
 To shield the castle from alarm : 
 And many a league that Castle round 
 Was strangely weird, fantastic ground. 
 Again the moon obscures her light, 
 Once more the scene is murky night. 
 Colder and stronger blows the breeze. 
 And fiercely swirls among the trees. 
 It sweeps o'er Lowran's rocky brae, 
 And scatters from the linn * the spray, 
 * A cascade.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 155 
 
 And shivers o'er the mountain rill, 
 
 And stirs the copse on Bennan's hill. 
 
 Though fierce the blast on Kennnire's wall, 
 
 As madly raves the wintry squall. 
 
 It may not harm those turrets tall, 
 
 Nor sweep the sumptuous banquet hall. 
 
 It howls around the outer gate. 
 
 Where wakeful warders watch and wait ; 
 
 It eddies round the dungeon tower, 
 
 And storms upon the maiden's bower. 
 
 And now the tempest's sullen roar 
 
 Is borne above the mountains hoar, 
 
 And shakes the castle to its core, 
 
 And beats on casement, tower, and door. 
 
 As gust on gust sweeps wildly past, 
 
 And bears the snow-drift following fast. 
 
 III. 
 
 Blow, blow, ye winds, your mighty will 
 
 On lake, on river, glen and hill ! 
 
 Though may ye in the greenwood wreak 
 
 The savage vengeance that ye seek. 
 
 And forest monarchs on the ground 
 
 Attest your fury all around, 
 
 Yet can ye not, with savage power. 
 
 Assert your sway beyond the tower, 
 
 Or pierce yon festal hall within, 
 
 Or quell the warriors' merry din. 
 
 For Kenmure's Lord has gather'd there
 
 156 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 The young, the old, the brave, the fair ! 
 Those bearded veterans proudly tell 
 Of valiant deeds by flood and fell, 
 While victory's voice on every side 
 Was ringing over Scotland wide. 
 Five rapid years their course had sped, 
 And many a field of strife had shed 
 Victorious glories o'er the head 
 
 And name of gallant Bruce ! 
 And many chieftains stout and bold 
 Who sword and fame had basely sold 
 To England's king for England's gold, 
 And play'd, as victory northward roll'd, 
 
 With honour fast and loose, 
 Now England's monarch gladly spurn — 
 Again to Scotland's aid they turn, 
 And cast their lot with Scotland's king, 
 And loudly of his praises sing, 
 And swear to drive from Scottish shore 
 The English despot home once more, 
 And to defend their native land 
 From grasping England's cruel hand ! 
 And noble Bruce, with loud acclaim, 
 Those recreant spirits hails again, 
 As sit they round the festal board 
 Of Douglas, Kenmure's latest lord (b). 
 Though wildly raves the gale without. 
 It cannot stay the joyous shout, 
 When approbation loudly rings, 
 As lady fair or gallant sings
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 157 
 
 Some song of love, or warrior lay, 
 In honour of that festal day. 
 
 IV. 
 
 For, faith ! the Castle's turrets grey 
 Have never known a braver day. 
 On Kenmure lea had never been 
 A merrier or more glorious scene. 
 Ne'er trod before thy banks, Loch Ken, 
 Such loyal bands of patriot men ! 
 For Robert Bruce that very day 
 'Mid beat of drum and trumpet's bray, 
 With conquering banners streaming gay, 
 Had ridden up the rocky way 
 
 That leads to Kenmure tower. 
 And with him rode a gallant band, 
 The pride of Scottish western land, 
 Where stalwart heart and loyal hand 
 
 Upheld the Bruce's power. 
 Right proudly Scotland's banner waved 
 
 Upon the Castle keep. 
 Its folds of silver gaily braved (c) 
 The wintry blast that round it raved. 
 And loud the acclamations rung. 
 The minstrels grey their welcome sung, 
 And casques of steel in air were flung. 
 
 From casement maidens peep, 
 As royal Robert pass'd the guard, 
 That lined the Castle's outer ward.
 
 158 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And reach'd at length the inner yard. 
 And when dismounted, paused the King, 
 Louder the notes of welcome ring, 
 When Douglas kneeling on the sward, 
 Bids welcome fair to Scotland's lord. 
 And as he rises from his knee 
 He swears the Castle aye shall be, 
 In times of strife a loyal tower, 
 In days of peace a quiet bower ! 
 
 The ladies gay their kerchiefs wave. 
 And welcome Bruce's warriors brave. 
 The clarion's notes high sounding peal. 
 And drums are beat with loyal zeal. 
 And ancient bards were there to sing 
 Their lays in honour of the King; 
 And high upraise their martial strain, 
 And roof and rafter ring again 
 As swells on high the loud acclaim. 
 Such welcome never Ken mure saw 
 In varying days of northern war : 
 And Kenmure's halls shall never see 
 Like welcome paid to chivalry ! 
 Now raves the gale around the tower. 
 The damsels leave their secret bower, 
 And haste them to the banquet hall, 
 Where ready on the feast to fall 
 Full many a knight was standing there,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. J 59 
 
 And many a lord and lady fair. 
 When comes the monarch in his pride 
 And seats him by the Douglas' side. 
 When Whithorn's Prior grace had said, 
 With folded hand and bended head, 
 Then all the mighty feast begin, 
 While round them rings a merry din. 
 And while the guests hold converse gay. 
 The minstrels warlike snatches play 
 Or chant some merry, roundelay. 
 
 VI. 
 
 More sumptuous feast on royal board 
 Was never spread for Scotland's lord. 
 Ne'er smiled those ancient halls, I ween, 
 On fairer or more gallant scene. 
 Full many a brave old Scottish lord 
 Is there to grace the Douglas' board, 
 And many a laird of Galloway, 
 Who strove with Bruce in former day. 
 And many a belted knight is there. 
 And gentle dames with braided hair. 
 And merry maidens blooming fair, 
 Amongst whose locks the jewels bright 
 GHsten'd beneath the torches' light. 
 While pages near their masters wait 
 And carve the fare, and hand the plate, 
 And fill the goblet brimming high. 
 And all their varying wants supply. 
 Brave knights are here from banks of Clyde,
 
 i6o ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And others from the border wide, 
 Some left their castles in the north, 
 And some have come from Tay and Forth, 
 Some spurr'd from Nith and Annan's shore, 
 And some have cross'd the mountains o'er, 
 From Cunninghame and rocky Kyle, 
 From many a barren western isle, 
 From many a distant highland glen 
 Come southward hastening gallant men, — 
 Their trysting-place the banks of Ken. 
 And Alice Graem, with flowing hair, 
 And Margaret Stewart too was there, 
 Dress'd just as Edward saw her stand 
 By fair Loch Trool, with oar in hand. 
 When sped the mountain to the glen, 
 And slew the flower of Pembroke's men. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The oaken table wide is spread, 
 And foreign wine is running red. 
 A mighty head of monster boar, 
 With salmon from the Ayrshire shore. 
 And swan and goose from bonnie Ken, 
 And wild fowl from the neighbouring fen, 
 And many a heron around the board, 
 Form dainty dish for dame or lord. 
 In honour's place, as meet should be, 
 A sturgeon* from the Solway sea. 
 And monster joints from o'er the border, 
 
 * The sturgeon was always considered a truly " Royal" fish.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. i6i 
 
 The table grace in proper order. 
 While circles round the joyous laugh, 
 And gallant knights their liquor quaff, 
 And Edward, gay by festal board 
 As brave in field with lance and sword, 
 O'er Galloway and Carrick lord (d), 
 Smiled proudly on the damsels round, 
 And in each face fresh beauties found j 
 And Malcolm bold, and Gilbert Haye, 
 At camp and feast a trusted stay, 
 With many a maid made gallant play. 
 My faith, a pleasant sight to see 
 Was that fair scene of revelry ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Now is the royal banquet o'er. 
 As from the board the menials bore 
 The relics of the mighty feast, 
 A blessing craved that hoary priest ; 
 And when the benison was said, 
 He pray'd for grace on Bruce's head. 
 And now hath come the minstrels' time 
 To aid the feast with merry rhyme, 
 Or olden tale from lands afar, 
 Or lays of Scotland's patriot war. 
 Now beckons Douglas with his hand 
 The oldest of the minstrel band, 
 And royal Bruce with wine fill'd up 
 And gave the bard the flowing cup,
 
 1 62 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And bade him sing of tented field, 
 Or how fair maids to lovers yield. 
 As o'er his harp the minstrel hung, 
 And strains melodious from it wrung, 
 His voice, though slightly trembling, rings 
 Right proudly out, as thus he sings. 
 
 Song. 
 Ballad of the Spider. 
 
 Oh ! wearily sails the sad wee bark. 
 
 As wearily as she may, 
 For she bears on board a Scottish lord 
 
 As she sails to the west away (e), 
 
 Oh ! the skies are dark o'er that tiny bark, 
 
 And gruesome is the sea ; 
 The wild winds howl, and the thunders growl 
 
 Aloud in their awful glee. 
 
 And he hears the cry of the wild birds high, 
 
 As these words they sadly sing : 
 " Thou never shalt be of thy birthright free, 
 
 And never of Scotland King ! " 
 
 Now the voyage it is done, and the ship it hath won 
 
 To Rathlin's rock-bound isle. 
 In that lonely land, with its exiled band. 
 
 King Robert must hide him awhile.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 163 
 
 IX. 
 
 One night he laid, all wrapp'd in plaid, 
 
 His head on his helmet placed, 
 In a tottering shed, and a heathery bed 
 
 His royal form embraced. 
 
 As he wakeful lay, a spider grey 
 
 Essay'd to climb in vain (f) ; 
 And once and twice, ay, even thrice, 
 
 It fell to earth again. 
 
 Then he watch'd, as he lay, that spider grey, 
 
 Four times, and five, and six, 
 Still try in vain the roof to gain 
 
 Whereon its web to fix. 
 
 His gallant heart quail'd, for as oft had he fail'd 
 In the fight, like that insect grey — 
 
 *' If yon spider fail at the next assail, 
 I will speed to the east away. " 
 
 'Twas thus he spake for conscience sake, 
 Yet he hopes that the spider grey 
 
 At the seventh time the beam shall climb, 
 And spread its net for prey ! 
 
 Oh ! the feat it is done, and the spider hath won, 
 And light is the heart of the Bruce, 
 
 And he swears till he reign in fair Scotland again, 
 There shall never be treaty nor truce !
 
 l64 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 He hath winded a blast, and his merry men fast 
 
 Come hastening over the lea ; 
 " Oh ! I see my fate— though come full late— 
 
 And Scotland shall be free ! " 
 
 Oh ! merrily comes the bonnie wee bark, 
 
 As merrily as she may, 
 For our rightful lord she bears on board, 
 
 As she comes from the west away ! 
 
 And he hears the cry of those birds on high, 
 
 Right cheerily now they sing, 
 " We welcome thee o'er to thine own gay shore. 
 
 For thou art of Scotland King ! " 
 
 Nor shall he forget, in a grateful debt, 
 When he kneels a prayer to pray, 
 
 That tottering shed, that heathery bed. 
 And the deeds of that spider grey ! 
 
 X. 
 
 The strains die slowly through the hall : 
 The list'ning guests enraptured all 
 Applaud the bard ; and royal cheers 
 Fall grateful on the minstrel's ears. 
 As the last notes were ringing high, 
 A tear was in the minstrel's eye, 
 And trickled down his wither'd cheek. 
 As James of Douglas rose to speak, —
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 165 
 
 A wine-cup on the minstrel press'd, 
 And thus the harper old addressed : 
 " Oh ! Cuthbert Grey, of bards the sire, 
 Thou well hast tuned thy merry lyre, 
 Oft hast thou sung at festal board, 
 But ne'er before to Scotland's lord. 
 Yet, by my faith, thou singest well, 
 And prithee take another spell. 
 And please thy Monarch's list'ning ear. 
 But, minstrel, shed no woman's tear ! 
 It ill becomes the minstrel's art 
 To sing such lay with woman's heart." 
 The taunt that gifted harper felt. 
 And as on bended knee he knelt. 
 What deep emotion shook his frame, 
 His trembling words and looks proclaim. 
 For ill can simple minstrel brook 
 A stern rebuke, or sterner look ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 " I would, my lords, be ill at ease, 
 Did I not strive my best to please 
 Each gallant knight and lady gay 
 With the rude measure of my lay. 
 What though this heart Avere made of iron, 
 And were my courage as the lion, 
 'Twould ill become the harper old 
 To march to war with warriors bold. 
 There was a time when, 'mong the rest.
 
 166 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 The first in battle oft I press'd, 
 
 And martial measures loudly play'd, 
 
 As we th' approaching foe survey'd ; 
 
 And oft upraised the cheering strain, 
 
 As on their ranks we charged again, 
 
 But now my race is nearly run ; 
 
 Yet many a deed of glory done, 
 
 And many a field of victory won, 
 
 These proudly flashing eyes have seen 
 
 In days gone by, when youth was green ! 
 
 And when such theme as ye have heard 
 
 The minstrel's patriot breast hath stirr'd, 
 
 An all unwonted youthful fire 
 
 Imbues him as he strikes the lyre. 
 
 'Tis then the tears unbidden rise, 
 
 To dim his old and failing eyes. 
 
 Times are there when, 'mong mortals here, 
 
 The bravest shed a manly tear : 
 
 All honour to them when the heart 
 
 Is tuned by nature, not by art ! 
 
 'Tis far beyond my simple power 
 
 To boast of youth in age's hour. 
 
 Yet though my trembling hand full soon 
 
 Will never win a loyal tune 
 
 Again from out my fav'rite lyre, 
 
 A slumbering but a patriot fire 
 
 Dwells buried in mine ancient breast, 
 
 E'en when my spirit is at rest. 
 
 That burns unquenching when I sing 
 
 Of glorious Bruce, the patriot's king ! "'
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 167 
 
 XII. 
 
 The minstrel ceased : then backward shrank, 
 
 And with his fellow bards took rank. 
 
 But modest air and loyal speech 
 
 A monarch's kindly heart can reach. 
 
 Again old Cuthbert's breast is stirr'd 
 
 As lists he to the royal word. 
 
 When smiled the King the minstrel took 
 
 Fresh heart of grace at Bruce's look. 
 
 " Now, by my royal crown, full well 
 
 The Douglas' taunt thou didst repel, 
 
 Would all our courtiers here could say 
 
 Such loyal speech as Cuthbert Grey, 
 
 And would that ever}' knight possess'd 
 
 The courage high of Cuthbert's breast j 
 
 And would we might by magic art 
 
 Snch feelings soft to all impart 
 
 As reign in Cuthbert's tender heart ! 
 
 Then let our words thy spirit cheer : 
 
 And now, Lord Douglas, lend thine ear : 
 
 As thou didst taunt that minstrel grey, 
 
 A penalty thou needst must pay ! 
 
 So, noble host, upraise thy voice, 
 
 And bid us all again rejoice." 
 
 The band of minstrels smiled to see, 
 
 Smiled all that goodly company — 
 
 When slowly from the festive board 
 
 Rose grim and sullen Kenmure's lord, 
 
 And glanced around that merry throng,
 
 1 68 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And then began his welcome song ; 
 And soon his anger meUs away, 
 As on him smiled the ladies gay, 
 For well could Douglas blithely sing, 
 And oft his lays had pleased the King. 
 In deeds of valour who may yield 
 To Douglas on the battle field ? 
 And shall not maids with rapture hear 
 When Douglas charms the listening ear? 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Kennmre^s Welcome to Bruce. 
 
 Come, clink your glasses, merrily shout. 
 
 And may the roof tree ring ; 
 What ho ! ye varlets, there without. 
 
 Some more good liquor bring ! 
 For Kenmure's walls are strong and stout, 
 
 And Kenmure's board is free, 
 An' come ye here for feast or rout, 
 
 Aye welcome shall ye be ! 
 
 When Edward next the Sol way fords. 
 
 Our castles to reduce, 
 If we have strength to wield our swords 
 
 We'll wield them for the Bruce ! 
 Bid all our vassals watchful be. 
 
 And keep our armour bright, 
 For good King Robert's men are we, 
 
 And bravely will we fight.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 169 
 
 And when our Northern horsemen pour 
 
 Like lightning on the foe, 
 Each Scottish spear shall drink their gore, 
 
 As down the varlets go. 
 If Southron wolves to Kenmure come, 
 
 An' come they day or night, 
 They'll hear the Northern lion growl, 
 
 And feel his deadly bite ! 
 
 Our Scottish swords are keen and long, 
 
 And Northern hearts are bold, 
 Our brawny arms are just as strong 
 
 As e'er in days of old. 
 And foot to foot, and side by side, 
 
 Each knight and squire shall stand. 
 And strike for Bruce our king and pride. 
 
 And for our native land ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 When Kenmure's bugle winds a blast 
 
 From Kenmure's castle wall, 
 Spur, gallants, spur your chargers fast, 
 
 And head for Kenmure's hall ! 
 And should ye come, ye trusty knights, 
 
 Our castle to defend, 
 We'll show those braggart English wights 
 
 How Scottish bows shall bend. 
 
 And while our archers on the wall 
 Have strength to bend a bow, 
 
 M
 
 I70 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 We'll give a welcome here to all, 
 
 And death to every foe ! 
 When burst our knights of gentle birth 
 
 Like tempest on the foes, 
 Each Southron knave shall bite the earth 
 
 Who meets their deadly blows. 
 
 Then shall King Edward rue the day 
 
 He o'er the border came, 
 Each soldier made of English clay 
 
 Shall quake at Kenmure's name. 
 And ladies bright shall grace the ball 
 
 When vict'ry shines on Bruce, 
 With knights of fame in Kenmure's hall— 
 
 As oft is Kenmure's use. 
 
 Fill up ! fill up ! with blood-red wine, 
 
 And let the rafters ring ; 
 And clink with me, and drink with me, 
 
 A health unto the King ! 
 A health to bonnie Scotland's lord ! 
 
 Nor will we call a truce 
 Till all shall cry at camp and board 
 
 " Long live King Robert Bruce ! " 
 
 XV. 
 
 When Douglas' martial air was done. 
 And other bards their praise had won, 
 The monarch called the ladies fair
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 171 
 
 To Strike the chord or sing an air. 
 A simple ditty then began 
 A lady of an ancient clan — 
 A gentle dame, whose husband gay 
 Was o'er the seas and far away, 
 One of a small but noble band 
 Who battled in the Holy Land, 
 And who the pilgrimage had ta'en 
 To expiate some olden stain 
 That on his father's memory lay — 
 So he his valour needs display. 
 And he hath left his lady fair, 
 And with her is the youthful heir 
 To his proud name and lineage high, 
 And thus she sings his lullaby. 
 For now her harp a minstrel brings, 
 And as that lady sweetly sings 
 Her gentle voice full richly rings 
 
 Out on the stilly night. 
 Close to her bosom, soft and warm, 
 Secure from human ill or harm. 
 And guarded by one lily arm, 
 
 Her infant slumbers light. 
 And as the harper strikes the chord, 
 In thought she joins her absent lord, 
 Who with the faithful wields his sword 
 
 In that far distant land. 
 Her heart, so far beyond the sea. 
 Pours forth an air both wild and free ; 
 The little form upon her knee
 
 172 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Holds up a tiny hand. 
 She scarce may heed her sleeping child, 
 For love like hers is fresh and wild, 
 And love hath all her youth beguiled, 
 
 And louder swells the strain, 
 Like waves upon a rocky shore 
 The harp sends forth a sullen roar, 
 And then, its strength and passion o'er, 
 
 It sinks to rest again. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The Crusadcf^s Child's Lullaby. 
 
 Hush, hush thee to rest, though the dreary winds 
 
 blow. 
 And the world is asleep in its mantle of snow ; 
 Though leafless the branches, and silent the bird. 
 Though the howl of the wolf in the forest is heard, 
 Though sad be my heart, I rejoice in thy birth. 
 It is night, but not dark on this beautiful earth. 
 God's lights of the north I can see in the sky, 
 So rest thee, sweet babe, for thy mother is nigh. 
 
 When summer returns in her glory again. 
 When primrose and daisy lie thick on the plain, 
 And bluebells are nodding their heads in the glade. 
 And we fancy all nature too lovely to fade ; 
 When the voice of the cuckoo is heard on the weald, 
 Then, then with my babe will I wander a-field.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 173 
 
 Then hush thee, my child of the bonnie blue eye, 
 Sleep soundly, my darling, thy mother is nigh. 
 
 Thy father, sweet babe, with the best of the brave 
 Has sail'd far away o'er the turbulent wave, 
 To the Araby shore, where the infidel band 
 Of the Turk 'neath the crescent hath taken its stand. 
 He stoutly, sweet infant, hath chosen his part. 
 With our noble crusaders so gallant of heart; 
 Lest evils assail him, and danger be nigh, 
 A prayer let us raise to our Father on high ! 
 
 On the wall of the castle the warder I hear, 
 
 And the bay of the blood-hound rings loudly and 
 
 clear 
 As he howls to the moon, which, far up in the height 
 Of the heavens looks earthward to bid us good-night. 
 And little stars twinkle, their numbers as sand 
 Of the ocean as countless, a glorious band. 
 So hush thee to sleep, gently rock'd on my knee, 
 For the bonnie wee stars gaily twinkle for thee. 
 
 Though the scream of the her'n as he wings to the 
 
 mere. 
 And the hoot of the owlet we often may hear, 
 And the moan of the wind, as it rattles the pane. 
 From slumber may waken my darling again — 
 Thy curly wee head, it shall lie on my breast, 
 Like a sweet bonnie bird in its own httle nest. 
 So rest thee, sweet babe, in my bosom until 
 The sun with its beauty our chamber shall fill.
 
 174 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 When homeward they haste from the infidel land, 
 'Mid the foremost in valour thy father shall stand ; 
 And he promised to bring with him over the sea, 
 Rich gems of the east for ray baby and me. 
 Then the pearl of the ocean thy neck shall adorn, 
 On thy wrist shall the coral of scarlet be worn ; 
 With jewels as rare shall be deck'd thine attire, 
 So rest thee, sweet infant, and dream of thy sire ! 
 
 « * « # # 
 
 The feast is done: 'tis the midnight hour, 
 And each fair lady hath sought her bower, 
 And save for the sentinel on the tower, 
 And his steady tramp by the outer wall, 
 On Kenmure's castle doth silence fall. 
 And each brave lord doth sleep in hall, 
 Till the trumpet sounds reveille call. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 A few short weeks have pass'd away 
 At Kenmure since that festal day: 
 The latest wintry snow is o'er. 
 And banks are green by Kenmure's shore, 
 And frost and ice hold sway no more. 
 With merry notes the woodlands ring, 
 And Nature hails the welcome spring. 
 But good King Robert doth not stand 
 To-day by Kenmure's flower)' strand,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 175 
 
 No knights are there, no ladies gay, 
 No bugle rings on Lowran's brae, 
 Grim silence reigns on Bennan's hill, 
 Save for the sound of distant rill. 
 And in the castle all is still. 
 No form but of the sentry tall 
 Appears upon the battled wall, 
 No sound is heard of human cheer 
 But when the warder clinks his spear, 
 Or bark of bloodhound keeping ward 
 And watch within the castle yard. 
 But Kenmure's lord is far away, 
 And Scotland's King hath sped to-day 
 Upon a mission bright and gay. 
 At early dawn he left Loch Dee 
 With all his gallant company, 
 Each knight and page and warrior dress'd 
 In gayest garb that each possess'd, 
 And southward by the river's bank. 
 O'er boulders vast, 'mid sedges rank, 
 'Neath Craigencallie winds their way (g), 
 Where on the hill the sunbeams play. 
 And cairns of warriors meet their sight, 
 And mark the scene of Raploch fight. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The scene around appears to Bruce 
 More grandly savage than its use. 
 And Bruce's spirit takes its flight
 
 176 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 In thought to Craigencallie's height. 
 Again he sees his troops below 
 With sword and pike repulse the foe, 
 But still the Southern warriors pour 
 Upon their ranks, like mighty roar 
 Of river rushing down in flood, 
 So come they on athirst for blood ! 
 Though Scottish shafts, like sheets of hail, 
 Are beating on their coats of mail, 
 Though loudly sounds the Gall'way flail (h), 
 That gallant onset who may stand ? 
 Now what can save the Northern band ? 
 And backward Bruce's soldiers go. 
 While onward dash the numerous foe ; 
 And archers shower upon their flank, 
 And shake the Shiltrums' treble rank (i). 
 Now who shall stem the tide of war ? 
 When, hark ! a fearful sound afar 
 Is borne upon the mountain gale, 
 And loudly echoes down the vale. 
 The English turn their upward sight 
 To CraigencalUe's dizzy height, 
 Whence other force in proud array 
 Is madly hastening to the fray ; 
 Scarce can they see for blinding sun 
 The numerous foemen downward run. 
 But warrior shout and bugle clear 
 Fall fiercely on the English ear, 
 Nor for the onslaught wait they there. 
 While cries and curses rend the air,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 177 
 
 Proud England's knights and warriors flee 
 
 For safety o'er the heathery lea, 
 
 And Bruce's followers chase them well 
 
 By mountain wild, by bosky dell, 
 
 And few escape the tale to tell. 
 
 Then loudly laugh'd the King with glee, 
 
 Nor fail'd to thank the gallant three — 
 
 McLurg, and Murdoch, and McKie, 
 
 Who play'd the foe such glorious pranks, 
 
 And spread confusion in their ranks. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But onward holds the Bruce his way, 
 'Mid massive rocks all torn and grey, 
 Which heaven in a bygone day 
 
 Hurl'd down the mountain's breast, 
 And stone on stone upheaved they lie, 
 And breezes o'er them gently sigh 
 
 Where now at peace they rest. 
 And here sounds forth the plover's cry, 
 And russet-plumaged moorfowl fly 
 
 Far from the haunts of men. 
 And where no mortal feet may scare 
 From heathy couch the timid hare, 
 
 Nor bittern from the fen. 
 When mists roll up the mountain side, 
 Each rock and cleft with purple dyed 
 
 The sun's first rays reveal. 
 And foxes hurry o'er the brae.
 
 178 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And ravens speed upon their way, 
 Croaking to see the light of day, 
 
 And seek their morning meal. 
 The peewit tumbles through the air 
 The stranger from her brood to scare, 
 The noisy curlew circles round, 
 And all is wild and sterile ground. 
 And here the wandering foot shall tread 
 Where sweetly bends its graceful head 
 That lovely flower which poets told 
 On Mount Parnassus grew of old (j), 
 And opens to the sunshine bright 
 Its petals fair of creamy white, 
 While tangled tufts of golden broom 
 Around them shed a rich perfume. 
 And side by side with heather bell 
 The gold and scarlet asphodel 
 The beauties of old Nature tell. 
 Then may the traveller turn his eye 
 To where old Merrick towering high 
 
 Uprears his rugged crest. 
 All glorious, as who should say, 
 " I all the hills around defy ! " 
 He seems to meet the azure sky, 
 
 And rules o'er all the rest ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 To gaze on such a scene as this 
 The Bruce accounts his greatest bliss,
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 179 
 
 Though wild indeed it be. 
 For where is that romantic land, 
 Or where is that enchanted strand, 
 
 And lies it o'er the sea, 
 That could this prospect fair excel, 
 Which Bruce hath learn'd to love so well, 
 And patriot love with magic spell 
 Hath twined around his kindly heart ? 
 Oh ! may not patriot love impart 
 To erring mortals here below 
 Desire a better land to know, 
 And stimulate to noble deeds. 
 To aid the stranger when he needs, 
 Relieve the sick, uphold the weak, 
 And welfare for our fellows seek ? 
 The mavis tunes his happiest lay 
 In rapture to this glorious day : 
 The wild flowers bloom in every glen 
 Far from the haunts of toiling men. 
 And brightly shines a sunny gleam 
 On hill and dale, on lake and stream, 
 And Bruce's eyes delight to rest 
 Upon the mountain's rugged crest. 
 How dear to him the bonnie bell 
 Of blue that grows in yonder dell, 
 How dear the purple heather wild, 
 Whose flowers he pluck'd while yet a child. 
 How sweet the breeze from off the hill. 
 And tinkle of the distant rill, 
 Whose gentle murmur lulls to rest
 
 i8o ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 The raging passions of the breast. 
 Above his head is heaven's blue, 
 And all around a glorious view 
 
 Is spread before the eye. 
 Oh ! were he free from martial toil, 
 The treasures of his native soil 
 
 Could every need supply. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 But when old Nature's face is stirr'd, 
 And turmoil's angry voice is heard, 
 When surges lash the sounding shores, 
 Or when the foaming torrent roars, 
 When o'er the mountain sweeps the gale. 
 And rolling thunder fills the vale, 
 A ruder spirit wakes his heart, 
 As better fits the warrior's art ; 
 Then martial ardour fires his eye, 
 'Tis then his soul would soar on high, 
 And dream of glorious times to be, 
 That yet shall make his country free ! 
 And now in thought he's borne again, 
 Where hostile armies throng the plain, 
 Where Scotia's banners waving high 
 Proclaim her sons must do or die ! 
 His gallant charger bears him far, 
 Amid those stately ranks of war, 
 Where yeomen bold and valiant knight. 
 All eager to commence the fight.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. i8l 
 
 Are onward spurring 'gainst the foe, 
 With lances couch'd and pointed low. 
 While yells of rage and hate and spite, 
 The clash of arms, the din of fight, 
 The wounded soldiers' stifled groan, 
 The dying war-horse' bitter moan, 
 And then the victor's ringing cheers 
 Are loudly sounding in his ears ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But now the royal travellers' band 
 Have left behind that mountain land, 
 And onward by the smiling Dee 
 Still spur they southward toward the sea. 
 And in the rear they quickly leave 
 The lonesome tower of stately Threave. 
 The summer's day was well nigh o'er, 
 Ere met their gaze the Solway shore, 
 Where far away the galleon's sail 
 Is spread to catch the favouring gale. 
 The lark was resting on the lea : 
 The gull was sleeping on the sea : 
 The shadows deepened in the west. 
 The sun was sinking to his rest. 
 And on the sea his crimson light 
 Had tinged the waves with colour bright, 
 And bade to each a fair good night, 
 When Bruce's party slowly wound 
 A gently sloping hill around,
 
 i82 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 With twisted thorns and verdure crown'd. 
 A worn and rugged path they found, 
 That led them through a leafy wood, 
 Where giants of the forest stood. 
 Their twisted rootlets spread around 
 In quaint device upon the ground. 
 The shades of eve were closing fast, 
 When Bruce from out the thicket pass'd, 
 Then cross'd the path a trickling rill, 
 Then led beneath a wooded hill, 
 Then climb'd his steed a gentle rise, 
 And then befalls a sweet surprise : — 
 In mellow light before his eyes 
 Dundrennan's Abbey calmly lies (k). 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Now with the minstrel change the scene, 
 And quit Dundrennan's slopes of green, 
 Where bells a merry welcome ring 
 In honour of their noble king, 
 And many a monk around them prest, 
 And hail'd with joy their royal guest. 
 But haste we to Kirkcudbright's tower, 
 Where underneath an ivied bower 
 There looks a casement toward the Dee, 
 A knight and lady fair we see ! 
 The damsel, near the window low, 
 Is standing in the moonbeams' glow. 
 While Gilbert Haye, for such the knight, 
 Holds converse with the lady bright.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. i8j 
 
 Sweet was the lover's midnight say, 
 For, gentles, at the break of day, 
 The Lady Alice wends her way, 
 With all her maids in bride array, 
 To old Dundrennan's Abbey grey. 
 A gallant sight, i' faith, 'twill be, 
 May all good folk be there to see ! 
 Now Gilbert turns to gain his steed, 
 Who browses safely o'er the mead, 
 But ere he leaves the lady there. 
 He sings a ditty to his fair. 
 She oft had heard that simple strain, 
 But loves to hear it once again. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Song. 
 The Banks of Dee. 
 
 The banks of Dee are wild and free, 
 
 There purple heather grows. 
 Those bonnie braes are fair to see, 
 
 A balm for all thy woes. 
 Then, lady, leave thine own fair land, 
 
 And come to gaze on mine. 
 The mountain breeze shall fan thy cheek. 
 
 The brightest sun shall shine. 
 
 The banks of Dee are grey and steep, 
 
 The river rushes past, 
 The pools beneath are blue and deep, 
 
 'Mid rocky boulders vast ;
 
 1 84 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Then, maiden, other pastures seek, 
 And come to look on mine. 
 
 The breeze shall love to fan thy cheek, 
 The sun shall love to shine. 
 
 O'erhead, beyond the fleecy cloud. 
 
 The mighty mountains rise ; 
 In air the skylark carols loud, 
 
 The plover shrilly cries. 
 To see thee smile on banks of Dee 
 
 Shall flower the golden broom ; 
 The purple foxglove all for thee, 
 
 And gay bluebell shall bloom. 
 
 The heathery hills that bound the Dee, 
 
 East, west, and south, and north, 
 Shall in thy face new beauties see 
 
 Whene'er thou roamest forth. 
 The little birds of thee shall sing 
 
 In every verdant glade ; 
 With rapture shall the forest ring 
 
 For thee, my lovely maid ! 
 
 Then, darling, leave thine own sweet glen, 
 
 And quit thy native lea ; 
 Love Galloway and banks of Ken, 
 
 Love them as I love thee ! 
 For Dee and Ken are calm and still. 
 
 Where blooms the purple heath ; 
 I'll love thee there, my darling, till 
 
 We separate in death !
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 185 
 
 XXV, 
 
 Now mounted Gilbert Haye his steed, 
 
 And prick'd across the velvet mead ; 
 
 And then that fair but wearied maid 
 
 Her head upon her pillow laid. 
 
 But vainly courts the damsel sleep. 
 
 Though heavy languors o'er her creep ; 
 
 She could not win a calm repose, 
 
 For sleep and love are deadly foes. 
 
 But thoughts go coursing through her brain, 
 
 She lives her youthful days again. 
 
 And will she be as blithe, as gay. 
 
 As then, when match'd Avith Gilbert Haye ? 
 
 Alas ! fair Alice, who may know ? 
 
 Sweet maiden, time alone can show ! 
 
 From out the shadows of the past 
 
 Dim vanish'd forms will gather fast. 
 
 And in the ever active brain 
 
 They live, and move, and speak again. 
 
 Who hath not felt at time like this, 
 
 When dwelt the mind on perish'd bliss, 
 
 When those we love were far away. 
 
 Or vanish'd from the scene for aye, 
 
 Their forms once more can play in sleep 
 
 The part that once was theirs to keep, 
 
 And distant scenes we love to see 
 
 In sleep may often with us be ? 
 
 Sweet memory loves fair scenes to twine 
 
 Around the heart, as loves to climb 
 
 N
 
 1 86 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 The tendrils round their parent vine, 
 When comes sweet sleep to aching head, 
 As tossing wild on restless bed 
 
 The wearied body lies. 
 Oh ! give the sufferer slumbers deep. 
 And calm refreshment, gentle sleep ! 
 Beneath thy spell the maiden keep. 
 
 And close the aching eyes. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Yet when fair Alice thinks of home, 
 And weary memories northward roam, 
 At length a calm refreshing sleep 
 Her fairy form doth gently steep, 
 And happy thoughts and happy dreams 
 Glide through her brain like fairy gleams. 
 Sleep summons forth, in fair array, 
 The forms we love, the young, the gay ; 
 And once again in sleep we roam 
 The pastures of our own sweet home. 
 Brief happiness the spirit knows 
 As sinks the body to repose. 
 Thus thinks the soldier in his dreams 
 Beside the watchfire's ruddy gleams 
 
 That guard the sleeping camp : 
 Fair slumber wafts him home once more, 
 He stands again on British shore 
 
 Far, far from martial tramp ; 
 He treads again the village street.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 187 
 
 And, hastening on his wife to greet, 
 He hears his children's pattering feet 
 
 Instead of horse's stamp. 
 Again he hears the song of birds, 
 And lowing of returning herds 
 
 When eve is gath'ring fast. 
 He hears again the noisy mill, 
 And bleat of sheep on distant hill, 
 And mountain streamlet's tinkling rill, 
 
 In place of trumpet blast. 
 He plucks with pride the monthly rose 
 That through the year so sweetly grows 
 
 Against his cottage wall. 
 His children cull the simple flowers 
 That flourish 'mid those humble bowers 
 
 That make his all in all. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Thus thinks the sailor when his bark 
 Is wildly toss'd by tempest dark 
 
 Upon an angry sea. 
 And oft his mind is fixed on love, 
 When mast and rigging groan above. 
 
 And shouts the storm for glee. 
 His thoughts are many a league away 
 When watching for that streak of grey 
 That heralds forth approaching day, 
 
 He walks the lonely deck. 
 As strains his eye to pierce the night,
 
 l88 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 He looks on scenes beyond the sight, 
 Nor thinks of storm or wreck. 
 Betwixt the sheets of blinding foam 
 He sees again his cottage home, 
 And now he hears the hum of bees 
 That cluster round the linden trees. 
 And sees the lovely chestnuts bloom, 
 And scents again their rich perfume, 
 While yonder in the balmy air, 
 
 Beside the little door. 
 His mother mth her silver hair 
 Is busy knitting in her chair, 
 As oft in days of yore. 
 And in the sighing of the gale 
 He hears once more the plovers wail 
 On Scotland's bonnie shore. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Fair broke the morn ; soft blew the breeze, 
 And gently shook Dundrennan's trees ; 
 The summer sun smiled fresh and gay 
 On flow'ry mead and abbey grey. 
 'Twas such a day you would declare 
 Was made for knight and lady fair : 
 If heaven design'd the match to bless 
 With smile of heavenly tenderness, 
 That glorious orb, that azure sky. 
 Were surely smiling from on high. 
 Now every face was bright and gay :
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 189 
 
 Dundrennan's monks kept holiday: 
 And merrily was the Abbey bell 
 Sent echoing forth o'er hill and dell. 
 Right gaily smiled each jolly monk 
 As on that festal morn they drunk 
 A health in liquor old and rare 
 To bridegroom brave and lady fair, 
 Then to the abbey went their way 
 To welcome there the bridal gay. 
 Then loudly forth the trumpets peal, 
 The people shout with loyal zeal, 
 For Bruce shall give the bride away 
 To that brave warrior Gilbert Haye. 
 As to the altar walks the bride 
 Strode gallant Robert by her side, 
 The monks a mighty anthem raise, 
 And loudly swell'd the notes of praise. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Never did sun more brightly shine 
 AVhen toll'd the bell the hour of nine ; 
 Never did braver warrior band 
 In aisle of church or abbey stand. 
 Those airy columns grand and old 
 A gallant line of soldiers bold, 
 A glorious rank of knights behold. 
 With helm and waving plume in hand 
 The bravest knights in Scotland stand ; 
 And many a lady's lovely face
 
 I90 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 Shone brightly there the scene to grace ; 
 On either side, along the floor 
 From the high altar to the door 
 They line the way the bride must tread, 
 While pennons flutter overhead, 
 And silks and satins rustle gay, 
 And gUsten in each sunny ray 
 Flung from the windows down below, 
 Which steeps them in a holy glow : 
 And jingling spur and armour bright 
 Lend martial colour to the sight. 
 Each dame and damsel curtseys low. 
 Obeisance makes with courtly show, 
 As past the bridal party go, 
 And gallants who for country bled 
 To that fair maid bend low the head. 
 Her silken train her pages four 
 With stately stride behind her bore. 
 And as proud Gilbert turn'd his eye 
 On all that goodly company, 
 A happy light shone in his glance 
 As round his head the sunbeams dance. 
 As moved the bridal up the aisle 
 Appear'd each sculptur'd face to smile 
 Of knight and lady lying there 
 In welcome to the maiden fair, 
 And many a grinning stony face 
 That crowns those pillars' lofty grace, 
 Who on the scene below looks down, 
 Seem'd to relax its wonted frown.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 191 
 
 The ancient abbot grave and grim 
 Smiled as he sang the bridal hymn, 
 And when to gallant Gilbert Haye 
 King Robert gave the bride away, 
 The abbot by the altar stands, 
 And joins in one their loving hands ; 
 And then the monks an anthem sung, 
 And grandly loud the music rung 
 And echoed through the stately pile, 
 And peal'd along the pillar'd aisle, 
 And through Dundrennan's sacred fane 
 RoU'd high the notes of praise again. 
 Ne'er saw Dundrennan such a scene ; 
 Nor monk nor abbot shall, I ween, 
 Lay eyes again on sight as gay 
 Till crumble thy old walls away, 
 And naught be left but lichen grey 
 O'er mouldering ruins in decay. 
 To tell of all thy glories fled, 
 To tell of all thy vanish'd dead, — 
 Until the thrush his carol sings 
 Where now the sacred music rings, 
 And daws hold undisputed sway 
 Over Dundrennan's abbey grey ! 
 
 XXX. 
 
 The abbot benediction gave, 
 
 And bride and bridegroom knelt to crave 
 
 A blessing at the monarch's hand,
 
 192 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 And thus the King his answer plann'd : 
 " Now, Gilbert, to thy bride be true, 
 For fairer maid we never knew; 
 And better wife 'twere hard to name 
 For stalwart knight than Alice Graem. 
 And, Lady Alice, lend thine ear 
 One word of praise from Bruce to hear, 
 In favour of thy gallant mate 
 Who meets in thee his happy fate. 
 'Mong all the loyal hearts and brave 
 Who sail'd with Bruce across the wave. 
 From Rathlin's islet years ago, 
 'Mong all who fought our tyrant foe. 
 Who shared our dangers and our toil, 
 Who strove to free our native soil. 
 We could not, lovely lady, say 
 A braver name than Gilbert Haye 1 " 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 But now the minstrel well may cease 
 His lay, and wend him home in peace. 
 His ancient harp may silent be. 
 For now his native land is free ! 
 And how that gallant task was done. 
 How Bruce the whole of Scotland won, 
 Each noble lord, each lady sage, 
 May read on northern history's page, 
 That better far than bard shall show
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 193 
 
 How Scotland triumph'd o'er the foe. 
 What boots it more for him to tell, 
 What every Scotsman knows full well, 
 How Scotland's bravest champions fell 
 
 On Bannock's famous field ? 
 Or how they charged the Southern ranks, 
 And thundered on the archers' flanks, 
 And bore the hated foe to ground. 
 And how the wounded knights around 
 
 Were forced to die or yield ? 
 For is not stamp'd upon the soul 
 Of Scotia's sons a glorious scroll, 
 
 In letters formed of gold. 
 Of those who fell that bloody day, 
 Who freely gave their lives away. 
 And those who foremost 'mid the fray, 
 
 Were fierce and stout and bold ? 
 Each gallant knight whose noble name 
 Adorns that splendid roll of fame 
 Shall live in Scottish bosoms still, 
 And Northern hearts with ardour fill, 
 
 Throughout all future time ; 
 While praises of their patriot king 
 Fair Scottish maids shall ever sing 
 
 In this romantic clime. 
 But now the weary strife is o'er, 
 All, all is joy on Scotland's shore !
 
 «94 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Saint Andrew's Cross in conscious pride 
 
 From sea to sea is waving wide ; 
 
 From Orkney's Isles and wild Cape Wrath, 
 
 And southwards past the Tay and Forth. 
 
 It floats upon the northern breeze, 
 
 O'er castle walls, o'er flowery leas. 
 
 It graces Stirling's martial bowers, 
 
 It floats on fair Dunedin's towers. 
 
 It waves o'er Berwick's border gate, 
 
 Where Nigel met his fearful fate ; 
 
 On Berwick Castle's highest tower, 
 
 Where English Edward's hate and power 
 
 In Lady Buchan's cage was shown, 
 
 Though now that lovely bird be flown. 
 
 It waves o'er Ross and wild Argyle, 
 
 O'er towers in many a western isle ; 
 
 In Arran fair it floats on high, 
 
 In Bute it flaunts the summer sky. 
 
 Upon Dumbarton's Castle wall 
 
 Its folds of silver proudly fall. 
 
 It floats o'er many a vessel side, 
 
 Reflected in the waves of Clyde, 
 
 O'er Lanark's hills, in Gala's dale. 
 
 It floats upon the favouring gale. 
 
 Where smiling Teviot's banks are green, 
 
 The Bruce's banner gay is seen. 
 
 And convent bells, with loyal hail. 
 
 Are cla.iging forth, o'er hill and dale.
 
 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 19S 
 
 The glorious news from sea to sea, 
 That Bruce is King, and Scotland free ! 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Proud Brucean banners waving gay 
 Deck every tower in Galloway, 
 While vaunts with pride his native Ayr 
 The fame of good King Robert there ; 
 And Conynghame and loyal Kyle 
 Upon the Lord of Carrick smile. 
 And fair Dumfries and Solway's strand, 
 And all that patriot border land, 
 From Esk and Liddle to the Tweed, 
 Hail Bruce their saviour in their need. 
 In Forfar, Perth, and Aberdeen 
 Rejoicing far and near is seen, 
 And patriot heads are proudly raised, 
 And eyes with patriot valour dazed ; 
 And tears of hope and joy are shed. 
 And blessing shower'd on Bruce's head 
 By dames who scarce can stand for age. 
 By blushing maid and gentle page ; 
 And children lisp his kingly name, 
 And shouting youths with loud acclaim 
 Their glad young voices raise on high, 
 And swear with Bruce to win or die !
 
 196 ROBERT THE BRUCE. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Now warriors grey with age and toil 
 Survey with pride their native soil, 
 Forget those days so lately o'er 
 When tyrants reign'd on Scotland's shore, 
 
 And fear on every side ; 
 When Edward ruled with iron hand, 
 And clouds of war their bonnie land 
 
 O'ershadow'd far and wide. 
 When hill and glen with gore was red, 
 And Scotland's noblest blood was shed ! 
 All, all the fearful past forgot, 
 In present joy ! — Their future lot 
 They trust to Him Who faileth not ; 
 And thousands humbly bend the knee 
 To God, Who spared them thus to see 
 Victorious Bruce and Scotland free ! 
 
 THE END.
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES TO INTRODUCTION TO 
 CANTO I. 
 
 Note A. 
 
 '^ And love, like him, those mowttains hoar. 
 Where wander d once the savage boar. " 
 
 Wild boars, in common with large red deer (of a species 
 probably far larger than those now met with in the Scottish 
 highlands), wolves, and other fierce wild animals, were very 
 numerous in the south and south-west of Scotland, and doubt- 
 less also throughout the country generally. With regard to 
 boars in Galloway, the veiy ancient tradition of the manner 
 in which the family of Gordon obtained their name, though 
 probably incorrect, is amusing, and may not be out of place 
 here. 
 
 " The ancestor of the Gordons, in Alexander the Third's 
 reign, was known as Adam of Lochinvar. In those days a 
 certain enormous wild boar had ravaged the whole district, 
 had done such an amount of damage, and killed and disem- 
 bowelled with its mighty tusks so many of its pursuers, that 
 at length the King offered to give a rich piece of land, near 
 the town of Kirkcudbright, to whoever should slay the 
 animal. Thereupon Adam de Lochinvar sought out the said 
 boar, whose depredations had principally been in the wild 
 district of the Glenkens, and after a very hard struggle, was 
 so successful as to kill it ; but such had been his exertions,
 
 200 NOTES. 
 
 that he was thoroughly worn out in body, and lying down 
 beside the carcass of the slain, he soon fell into a sound sleep. 
 
 "As he slept, a neighbouring laird, named Maxwell, 
 passed by, and seeing at a glance how matters stood, he cut 
 off the boar's head and made away with the prize. No sooner 
 had Adam awoke than he discovered, of course, the unworthy 
 trick that had been played, but — careful man that he was — 
 before he had settled down to his nap he had cut out the 
 monster's tongue and secured it in his pouch. He felt that 
 he had no time to lose, so hurrj'ing home, he mounted his 
 fleetest horse, and rode so fast to the capital that Maxwell, on 
 his nefarious errand, had only anticipated him by an hour. 
 Already, however. Maxwell had obtained an audience of the 
 King ; the boar's head lay before him, and he was confidently 
 claiming the broad acres as his reward. It was at this 
 moment that Lochinvar rushed into the royal presence and 
 claimed a hearing. The King listened patiently while each 
 gave the other the lie direct. 
 
 •' ' Maxwell has shown us the head,' said the monarch ; 
 * how, then, can you ask us to believe you ? ' 
 
 " ' Sire,' rejoined Lochinvar, ' a part only of the head is 
 there.' 
 
 "' He lies again,' cried Maxwell; 'you, sire, can judge 
 whether he is to be believed.' 
 
 " Adam s\\'ung round his leathern pouch. He produced a 
 tongue, and triumphantly exclaimed, as the false baron turned 
 deadly pale, ' Unless that tongue fits into its own socket, let 
 me be branded as a liar ! ' 
 
 "The jaws were forced open — no tongue lay between those 
 terrible tusks — truth asserted her power. A few moments 
 later and the trembling IMaxwell was led forth a prisoner, 
 and his own lands were added by the King to those which had 
 been so gallantly earned by the man he had endeavoured to 
 supplant. 
 
 " 'What is your name?' said the monarch, interested in 
 the young hunter. 
 
 " 'Sire, I am called Adam of Lochinvar.' 
 
 " ' And how came you to slay this boar ? '
 
 NOTES. 201 
 
 " ' As he turned upon me furiously, sire, I ran my sword 
 into his open mouth, and gored him do~iOn ! ' 
 
 " 'You have this day won yourself lands and a name,' 
 rejoined Alexander ; 'kneel.' The youth knelt, and the King, 
 striking him with his sword, cried, ' Rise up. Sir Adam de 
 Goredown ! Go and enjoy your properties, and take for the 
 future a boar's head as your achievement.' 
 
 " De Goredown returned a man of mark. The lands which 
 he acquired by royal grant, lying between the Taiff and the 
 Dee, still bear the name of Totigtieland ; and three boars' 
 heads have ever since been carried by his descendants, the 
 senior branch of which are the Gordons of Lochinvar." 
 
 Sir Andrew Agnew, from whom (" Hereditary SheriiTs of 
 Galloway," p. Ii6) I have quoted the above, gives it as his 
 opinion that notwithstanding this pretty story, it is probable 
 that the Gordons came from Nomiandy originally, where 
 there is a manor of that name, a scion of the house having 
 been Bertrand de Goredoun, the archer who slew Richard 
 the First at the siege of Chalos.* However, for the honour 
 of our ancient traditions, I fain hope I may be excused for 
 believing the more interesting account of the origin of the 
 name, whose chief in later times, the gallant Lord Kenmure, 
 was — 
 
 " The bravest lord that ever Galloway saw ! " 
 
 Some, who would discredit our story, hold that the origin 
 of Tongueland parish is from the shape being somewhat of 
 the form of a tongue of land, but there can be no question 
 that the Gordons of Lochinvar were once owners of lands in 
 this parish of some extent. Tradition hath it, that on Adam 
 de Gordoun's triumphant return home from the capital, he 
 gathered together all his retainers, and erected a monster 
 cairn of stones on the very spot where the boar was slain. 
 There is, so far as I can ascertain, no idea now of the spot 
 where this cairn existed. 
 
 * Or Chaluz, in Normandy.
 
 202 NOTES. 
 
 Note B. 
 
 " When Coniyjt's blood ruas rimningred. 
 And Royal Bruce fro7n vengeance sped — 
 Where fotmd he first secure retreat. 
 Where laid he first in shimber siveet 
 His wearied body, spent with toil. 
 But on Drurnlanrig' s frieiidly soil? 
 And did not Tynron^s woods provide 
 Asylum tneet wherein to hide ? " 
 
 Immediately after the murder of the Red Comyn by Robert 
 the Bruce, before the high altar in the church of the Minorites, 
 or Grey Friars, at Dumfries, and when Bruce rushed to the 
 door, he met his two powerful friends, Roger Kirkpatrick, of 
 Closeburn, and James de Lindsay, who asked with eagerness 
 what had happened, and what tidings he bore. " Bad tidings, 
 for I doubt I have slain Comyn," replied Bruce. " Doubtest 
 thou? " replied Kirkpatrick ; " I make siccar " (meaning he 
 would make sure), and rushing together with Lindsay into 
 the church, they at once despatched the wounded Comyn. In 
 memory of this bloody deed the Closeburn Kirkpatricks have 
 ever since held for crest a hand holding a dagger, and for 
 motto the words, "I mak' sicker." 
 
 From the manuscript account of the Presbytery of the 
 parish of Penpont (on the Nith, and close to Drumlanrig 
 Castle), I take the following extract referring to the ancient 
 tradition, and which, whether true or not, is implicitly 
 believed by all the inhabitants of Nithsdale to the present 
 day :— "The steep hill, called the Dune of Tynron, is of a con- 
 siderable height, upon the top of which there hath been some 
 habitation or fort. There have been in ancient times, on all 
 hands of it, very thick woods and great about that place, 
 which made it the more inaccessible, into which K. Robert 
 Bruce is said to have been conducted by Roger Kirkpatrick 
 of Closeburn, after they had killed the Cumin at Dumfriess,
 
 NOTES. 203 
 
 which is nine miles from this place, whereabout it is probable 
 that he did abide for some time hereafter ; and it is reported, 
 that during his abode there he did often divert to a poor man's 
 cottage, named Brownrig, situate in a small parcel of stoney 
 ground, incompassed with thick woods, where he was content 
 sometimes with such mean accommodation as the place could 
 afford. The poor man's wife being advised to petition the 
 King for somewhat, was so modest in her desires, that she 
 sought no more but security for the croft in her husband's 
 possession, and a liberty of pasturage for a very few cattle of 
 different kinds on the hill, and the rest of the bounds of which 
 priviledge that ancient family by the injury of time, hath a 
 long time been, and is, deprived : but the croft continues in 
 the possession of the heirs and successours lineally descended 
 of this Brownrig and his wife ; so that this family, being more 
 ancient than rich, doth yet continue in the name, and, as they 
 say, retains the old charter." 
 
 Now, though some have discredited this old tradition, I 
 must confess that I can see no reason whatever for disbelieving 
 its accuracy. What more likely than the Bruce, pursued by 
 the vengeance of those who were his declared enemies, should 
 have been led by his friend and brother-soldier, Kirkpatrick, 
 to this inaccessible forest retreat, for such Tynron hill must 
 have then been, and which the knight of Closeburn must 
 have been well acquainted with, on account of its being only 
 about three miles from Closeburn, of which estate probably it 
 then formed a portion ? The present owner is His Grace of 
 Buccleuch and Queensberry. I have often ascended the 
 Doon of Tynron, and a glorious view over Nithsdale is ob- 
 tained therefrom, and we have evidence of there undoubtedly 
 having been a strong fortress on its summit. The mountain 
 is very steep and of a curious pyramidal shape, its slopes 
 being clothed with natural wood, doubtless the offspring of 
 those veiy trees which clothed it in the Brace's time, which 
 adds to its great beauty, and makes it undoubtedly one of the 
 most lovely features of Dumfriesshire ; indeed, I have ever 
 looked upon it as the finest wild-looking hill in the south of 
 Scotland. Upon its summit is a small level piece of "table
 
 204 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 land," and it was here the Castle of Tynron must have stood ; 
 and by the appearance of what stones are still left they must 
 have been procured from a distance of some four and a half 
 miles, and carried up the precipitous ascent with infinite 
 labour : some were removed rather over a century ago for 
 building purposes, which was a great pity. I have traced 
 ditches around the summit distinctly, and what must have 
 been a Roman road leads from the Doon along the hill-side 
 for a considerable distance, and this is in excellent preserva- 
 tion in many parts. There exists on one face of this remark- 
 ably interesting hill, a curious projection, which considerably 
 resembles a man's nose. This is the origin, no doubt, of the 
 name Tin-droyn in old British, and of Dun-ron in Irish, 
 changed again into Tinron, or Tynron — Dune, signifying the 
 mount with a nose. 
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 Note A. 
 
 " Upon the crest of Ctirleyivee^ 
 And on the bosom of Loch Dee, 
 On rugged Craigencallie'' s height 
 Plays ^mongst the rocks the fitful light." 
 
 The Loch of Dee is a lonely, but very lovely sheet of water, 
 situated in the wildest part of the parish of Minnigaff, the 
 largest parish in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, where few 
 travellers penetrate, but which abounds in glorious scenery 
 and historical reminiscences, and which but requires to be 
 more widely known to be as highly appreciated as any part 
 of Scotland's finest scenery. 
 
 Loch Dee, like the Loch of Trool, is rich in interest to the 
 geologist, and traces of the volcanic and glacial periods abound
 
 AZOTES. 205 
 
 around hotli these glorious lakes. Loch Dee is about one and 
 a half miles in length, and a little more than three-quarters 
 of a mile broad, its shores being wild and barren in the 
 extreme. Amongst the volcanic hills in its vicinity are 
 several caves, or caverns, of various sizes, and no doubt in 
 more remote days many others existed, whose entrances have 
 long since been stopped up, perhaps by human hand, or more 
 probably by nature's agency in the shape of periodical 
 avalanches of masses of rock from the mountain crests, and 
 their very existence now is forgotten. 
 
 From the summit of the mountain called Curleywee 
 (2,212 feet high) a grand view is obtained of the surrounding 
 wilds, which were all included in the ancient "forest of 
 Buchan," which stretched, in the Bruce's time, for many and 
 many a mile around. And Craigencallie, a towering and 
 rugged mountain to the north-eastward of the Loch of Dee, 
 will ever be remembered as the scene of the celebrated 
 conflict between Robert the Bruce's followers and the English, 
 and which is described in a subsequent note. 
 
 Note B, 
 
 " For bird and beast must surely be 
 A paradise by wild Loch Dee. " 
 
 Around the lake, and amongst the grand, wild, and solitary 
 hills in its immediate neighbourhood, where the lonely shep- 
 herd, and in autumn the grouse-shooter, are the only signs of 
 human life to be met with, it is not remarkable that many of 
 the rarer birds and animals, long since killed down in more 
 frequented parts of the country, still exist. Amongst these 
 the lordly eagle holds first rank, and often have I seen it in 
 the forest of Buchan, winging its way to some high crag over 
 the Loch of Dee or Doon. The buzzard, the peregrine falcon, 
 the raven, the badger, or "brock," as the folk of the country 
 call it (as they do in the north of Ireland also), the otter, and 
 the mountain fox, are still common, and a few real wild cats
 
 2o6 NOTES. 
 
 (nearly extinct in Scotland now) still hold their own, in wilds 
 where of old the savage wolf wandered over the mountains, 
 the red deer made his abode in the forest, and the wild boar 
 was numerous in the marshes. The osprey, or "fishing 
 eagle," is also still to be met with, and still, I believe, breeds 
 annually in Ayrshire and Galloway : at all events, it did so 
 since 1871, and is often to be observed by the sea-shore, and 
 sometimes also inland, by the more sequestered of the many 
 mountain lakes. In Brace's time the wilds of Loch Dee 
 must have been a very paradise for ihefai-a nahn-a:. 
 
 Note C. 
 
 " Or goblin spirits from LocJiricarr t " 
 
 Lochricarr, or as it is often written, Lochricawr, is a wildly- 
 situated mountain lake in the Ayrshire portion of the ancient 
 forest of Buchan, a few miles to the northward of Loch Doon. 
 Its shores, in common with those of numerous other mountain 
 lochs, were supposed to be haunted by goblins or sprites. 
 The author has heard shepherds tell, within the last few 
 years, wonderful stories of the " mer-ladies " that are still to 
 be seen on bright moonlight nights in summer time, sitting on 
 the shores of some of the wilder lakes, combing their long 
 hair ; but, if disturbed, the fair apparition at once melts away 
 into thin air. But many of the mountain people still devoutly 
 believe in these lake goblins. 
 
 Note D. 
 
 " ^ pearly drop of dew shall still 
 The bosom of the sundew fill." 
 
 The creeping sundew, of which there are several species 
 known in Great Britain, and of which the commonest are the 
 " long-leaved " and the "round-leaved," is an inconspicuous 
 but very lovely little bog-plant. It is especially common in
 
 NOTES. 207 
 
 Galloway, the mountainous parts of Ayrshire and Dumfries- 
 shire, and, indeed, probably in every Scottish county where 
 heather and bog abound. The tiny plant is but two or three 
 inches in height, and its oddly-shaped thick leaves are densely 
 covered with curious thick hairs, each one of which is tipped 
 by a drop of viscid fluid, which, however bright the day, 
 gives to the plant itself the appearance of having a drop of 
 dew in its centre. Little flies, gnats, and the like insects are 
 attracted by the sweet taste of this fluid, and, becoming en- 
 tangled amongst the clammy hairs, die upon the leaves. The 
 plant is carnivorous, and, mirahile dicta ! will and does ac- 
 tually eat up the victims upon its leaves. This anyone can 
 prove, as the author has often done, by placing a sundew 
 plant in a shallow plate, and, taking care to keep it damp 
 and supply it with gnats and small flies, the observer will 
 perceive the insects gradually but surely are sucked in by the 
 plant. In former days the sundew, or drosera, was used by 
 the natives of Galloway as a medicine, and its juice, mingled 
 with milk, is still used as a good cosmetic for ladies. 
 
 Note E. 
 
 " They have look'd on the beautiful chasm of Ness, 
 Where gambols the Doon, in its bonnie ca^-ess.'''' 
 
 The river Doon — that "bonnie Doon" immortalized by 
 Bums — flows out of the lake of the same name, and at once, 
 on leaving the lake, takes its rapid course down a most lovely 
 rocky glen, known as the " Glen of Ness," which is enclosed 
 within the beautiful policies of Berbeth, the seat of the late 
 Hon. Mrs. McAdam Cathcart, of Craigengillan. The current 
 of the Doon flows with such fearful strength down the glen, 
 that when I have hunted it with my pack of otter hounds, as I 
 frequently have done, the very strongest hounds were often 
 unable to keep a footing in the stream even where it was 
 only a foot in depth, the pent up force of the lake seeming to 
 burst itself forth violently over great masses of volcanic rock,
 
 2o8 NOTES. 
 
 through the wooded chasm, until after a course of about a 
 mile the river reaches the verdant meadows and wooded 
 policies near the Bogton loch. 
 
 Note F. 
 
 " They have come from Loch Doon and its waters bhu. 
 From the isle where the osprey has chosen a home. 
 From those beautiful woods where the roedeer roam." 
 
 Loch Doon is a very fine sheet of remarkably clear water, 
 and extends for some seven miles in length, by about a mile 
 or less in breadth. It divides the stewartry of Kirkcudbright 
 from the county of Ayr, and was anciently nearly in the 
 centre of the great forest of Buchan, so famous for royal 
 sport. On the Carrick, or Ayrshire side of the lake, the 
 mountains are remarkably wild in appearance, and abound in 
 rock and heather, v.'hilst the range of hills, known as the 
 " Kells range," to the southward of the loch, are remarkably 
 green and bright-looking to the eye. 
 
 There are two or three islets in the loch, one of which 
 used to be known as the " Osprey's Isle," from the fact of 
 the fishing eagle having built its nest there from time im- 
 memorial. During the last twenty years, however, the birds 
 have disappeared, the island now passing under the name of 
 the " Gulls' Isle," because the blackheaded gulls [lants ridi- 
 bundus),* the only species of seagull that nests far from the 
 sea, now breed upon it. They are protected by the Marquis 
 of Ailsa, the proprietor. Roedeer are exceedingly numerous 
 in the Ness Glen and the woods of Berbeth, where the author 
 has often seen from twenty to thirty of them in one wood, on 
 an autumn evening, going to drink at the loch. 
 
 In the dry summer of 1826, nine canoes or boats, several 
 of which are to this day preserved sunk in a little pond in 
 the wood at the head of the Ness Glen, were discovered in 
 
 * These gulls are locally termed " peck-mires," as they follow the 
 plough in search of food.
 
 NOTES. 209 
 
 Loch Doon by a party of fishers. The canoes, which I have 
 seen, were observed beneath the water, sunk not far from 
 the ' ' Castle Island. " Each was formed of a single oak tree, 
 hollowed out (doubtless by " Celts ") by hand, and shaped 
 somewhat like a fishing-coble. I have little reason to doubt 
 that these boats were once used by the people who inhabited 
 the castle. One of them measured twenty feet in length by 
 three feet three inches in breadth ; a second was sixteen and 
 a half feet long, by two feet six inches ; a third being twenty- 
 two feet long by three feet ten inches. One of them still 
 exists in Glasgow Museum. A battle-axe, and a portion of 
 a lady's shoe, the sole of the latter being entire, were found 
 at the bottom of one of the boats. This relic was long in the 
 possession of the late Mr. Train, of Newtown Stewart, who 
 was a valued correspondent and friend of Sir Walter Scott. 
 The boats are supposed to have lain in the loch for 800 or 
 900 years, so this leads me to think they were used by a still 
 earlier people than the castle inmates. 
 
 Note G. 
 
 " WJien he wing' d to his home on the Carlin's p-ey cairn. 
 To the nest where he carried the warrior's bairn. " 
 
 The lofty and rugged hill, known as the "Carlin's (or 
 Witches') Cairn," is a noticeable mountain of the Kells 
 Range, of 2,650 feet in height, on the Galloway side of the 
 lake, and whence an extensive view embracing the Irish 
 coast, the Isle of Man, Ailsa Craig, the Cumberland hills, 
 and the Highlands nearly as far as Stirling, is obtained : it 
 is, however, a rugged climb to the summit. Here is erected 
 a fine cairn of rocks and large stones, to which a tradition 
 attaches. According to the " Unique Traditions of Gallo- 
 way," and the present belief of the neighbouring shepherds 
 and cottars, this cairn was erected by the good wife of the 
 miller of the farm of Polmaddy, towards the end of Robert 
 the Bi-uce's reign. The King, it would appear, was, at the
 
 2IO NOTES. 
 
 time of his meeting this good woman, a fugitive from the 
 English, and was hotly pursued by them. He sought shelter 
 at the mill, where the good-wife concealed her royal guest 
 behind the "happer" of the mill amongst the com sacks. 
 The soldiers came up shortly afterwards, but failed to find 
 the Bruce. In happier days the King was able to reward his 
 kind protectress with a grant of land near Polmaddy. In 
 return for this the good dame wished to raise a monument to 
 the memor}^ of the King ; so she brought together all her 
 loyal neighbours and acquaintances, and caused them to 
 collect and carry up to the highest part of the " Kells 
 Rhynns," in full view over Carrick, large stones, with which 
 they built the Carlin's Cairn, in memory of the Bruce's 
 kindness to the miller's dame of Polmaddy. 
 
 There is an old tradition on the banks of Loch Doon that 
 an eagle once carried off a child from the castle island, or 
 from the shores, and bore it away to its eerie on the Carlin's 
 Cairn, whence it was eventually rescued by its almost des- 
 perate mother. 
 
 Note H. 
 " 'Neath the walls of the Castle of Doon:" 
 
 About midway between the Carrick and the Galloway 
 shores, toward the western extremity of the lake, is a small 
 island, on which are the remains, though in a sadly 
 dilapidated state, of an ancient castle. The castle is built in 
 octagonal form, and being erected on a veiy rocky foundation 
 and surrounded as it was by the deep waters of the loch, it 
 must have been a fortalice of much strength, if not indeed, 
 before the invention of artillerj', impregnable. It goes by 
 the name of Bruce's Castle, or sometimes Baliol Castle, but 
 there appears to be no very satisfactory account of the date 
 of its erection, nor of its original owners. 
 
 There is, however, little doubt but that it was a fortress of 
 the ancient rulers, or "lords" of Carrick, and it was held
 
 NOTES. 211 
 
 for the Bruce's cause against llie Englisb, on one, if not on 
 two occasions. On one of these, the defenders of the Castle 
 of Doon sallied forth, and valiantly attacked and defeated 
 the enemy upon a hill, nearly opposite the Castle, which to 
 this day is called by the peasantry the " Brucean hill." 
 
 Tytler ("History of Scotland," vol. i. p. 214, 215) says 
 that shortly after the disastrous battle of Methven, in 1306, 
 the troops of the Earl of Pembroke took prisoners, whilst 
 scouring the country far and wide, many of the Scottish 
 leaders, amongst whom were Lamberton, bishop of St. 
 Andrew's, and tlie Abbot of Scone, who were discovered clad 
 in their armour, in which they were conveyed to England. 
 One of the next victims was Christopher de Seton, " who had 
 married a sister of Bruce, and had rendered essential service 
 to the king," and who now "took refuge in his castle of 
 Loch Don, in Ayrshire, which is said to have been pusillani- 
 mously given up to the English by Sir Gilbert de Carrick." 
 (Robertson's " Index," pp. 135 — 8 : notes and illustrations, 
 letter X.) Seton, who was a great favourite with the people, 
 was especially obnoxious to Edward, as he had been 
 personally present at the death of Comyn. He was imme- 
 diately hurried to Dumfries, and condemned and hanged as 
 a traitor. So dear to King Robert was the memory of this 
 faithful friend and fellow-warrior, that he afterwards erected 
 on the spot where he was executed a little chapel, where 
 mass was said for his soul. ("Statistical Accunt," vol. v., 
 pp. 141 — 142.) Sir Christopher's brother, John de Seton, 
 was taken about the same time, and put to death at New- 
 castle. Sir Christopher de Seton was ordered to be hanged 
 and then beheaded, at Dumfries, where "the dread apparatus 
 of death was erected on a high natural eminence situated 
 beyond the walls, on the north-east of the Burgh, so that the 
 inhabitants might have an opportunity of seeing how the 
 usurper rewarded what his judges called rebellion, and of 
 profiting by the spectacle." (McDowall's " Hist, of Dum- 
 fries," p. 106.) Whether Seton's widow. Christian Bruce, 
 or her royal brother the King himself, built the chapel, wall 
 never be known for certain, but, at any rate. Christian
 
 212 NOTES. 
 
 " founded " it, as set forth by Robert the Eruce's charter, 
 dated Xovember 31, 1323, when he was undisputed monarch 
 of Scotland. The charter (General Hutton's Manuscript, 
 in Advocates' Library, Edinburgh), commences : " Charta 
 Capellani celebrantis pro anima Christopheris de Seton. 
 Robertas, Dei gratia Rex Scotorum," &c., and sets forth 
 that, whereas " Christopher de Seton, our beloved soldier, 
 having been put to death in our service, and our dear sister 
 Christian, his spouse, having on the place where he suffered 
 death, near Dumfries, founded a certain chapel in honour of 
 the Holy Rood, be it known unto her, that for the favour 
 and affection borne by us to the said Christopher in his life, 
 we have given and continned to a chaplain, in the same 
 chapel, to celebrate mass for ever for the soul of the said 
 Christopher, one hundred shillings sterling (centum solidos 
 striviling), of annual value ; the same to be payable by the 
 hands of our Sheriff of Dumfries and his bailies from the rents 
 of Carlaverock, at Witsunday and Alartinmas, in equal pro- 
 portions." St. Christopher's chapel is stated to have been 
 " A beautiful little gothic building of oblong shape, cornered 
 by pointed buttresses, and having a richly decorated oriel 
 window." (McDowall, 1. c.) 
 
 Note I. 
 
 " They have looked on the Millfoi-e, all dreary and cold. 
 And the dark Craig of Dee, so fantastic and bold ." 
 
 The mountains in this desolate region are of great beauty, 
 but the scenery around them is wild in the extreme, as much 
 so as in any part of the highlands proper with which I am 
 acquainted. These mountains have, for the most part, purely 
 Gallic names, as for instance, the Millfore (Gallic, Meall 
 Fuar), signifying "the cold hill." Caimgarrock, Curley- 
 wee, Benyellary, and Brockloch are all of Gallic origin. The 
 Black Craig o' Dee, or Cairnsmore o' Dee (as it is also called), 
 is clad with dark heather to its very summit, giving the moun-
 
 NOTES. 213 
 
 tain a peculiarly sombre appearance, relieved, however, by 
 the numerous crystals on its crest, which, after a shower of 
 rain, sparkle brightly in the rays of the sun. 
 
 Note J. 
 
 " Where the Dungeon of Bnchan its sumfttit uprears, 
 And the Merrick gigantic, in glory appears." 
 
 Sir Andrew Agnew, of Lochnaw, speaking of these wild 
 solitudes, says : " The Dungeon of Buchan and the Mearoch 
 were the most prominent features in these mountain scenes, 
 among whose wild retreats, as late as 1684, Symson writes, 
 •are very large red -deer, and about the top thereof that fine 
 bird called the mountain partridge, or, by the commonalty 
 the tar 7?iachan, about the size of a red cock, and its flesh 
 much of the same nature ; it feeds, as that bird doth, on the 
 seeds of the bulrush, and makes its protection in the chinks 
 and hollow-places of thick stones from the insults of the 
 eagles, which are in plenty, both the large grey and the 
 black, about that mountain.' A ptarmigan is said to have 
 been shot upon this hill, now the property of the Earl of 
 Galloway, as late as the year 1820 (Agnew's " Hereditary 
 Sheriffs of Galloway," pp. 138, 139). The Merrick is the 
 most lofty hill, not only in Galloway or Ayrshire, but south 
 of the Grampians, its height being 2,760 feet. To the 
 geologist this whole district is wonderfully interesting, and 
 curiously enough, the "till" or "boulder clay," is abundant 
 in this region ; the Merrick itself is a notable example of a 
 clay-covered mountain, a thick covering, or layer, of till 
 extending to its summit ! Mr. Jolly, in describing the glacier 
 debris found in this, the highest district of the south of 
 Scotland, states (Harper's "Rambles in Galloway") that a 
 deep deposit of this boulder-clay is to be seen upon the 
 shoulder of the Merrick, just " behind the shepherd's hut at 
 Culsharg, the highest inhabited dwelling in Galloway, re- 
 markable as occurring so near the highest point of the
 
 214 NOTES. 
 
 southern highlands. Here a deposit of great thickness fills 
 up a pre-glacial valley, through which the present streamlet 
 has cut a deep gulley, the banks of debris rising at an acute 
 angle from the water, several fine ' morasses ' are to be seen 
 here, and extraordinary' numbers of large boulders, or 
 'perched' blocks of rock, especially around Loch Valley, 
 and also upon the very highest crest of the Merrick. These 
 ' rocking stones,' as many of them are, and which sway to and 
 fro when touched by the hand of man, are regarded (by the 
 geologist before alluded to) as poised naturally, their exquisite 
 balance being due to weathering of the rock, motion by the 
 winds, and the necessary keeping of the centre of gravity 
 where the mass has been sufficient to resist the tempests." 
 
 Note K. 
 
 " To grey Millyca with its rainpart of rocks. 
 The home of the badger, the wolf and thefox.'^ 
 
 The steep hill of Millyea to this day gives a safe asylum to 
 both the badger, the fox, the buzzard, and the raven. The 
 Gallic name of this mountain is " Meall Liath," which 
 signifies the "grey hill." 
 
 Note L. 
 
 ^' Let Agnes seek the paddles three, 
 ConceaVd beneath the Druids'' tree. " 
 
 There is no doubt, notwithstanding the opinion of some 
 writers to the contrary, that the Druids were spread over the 
 whole of Galloway and Ayrshire, in common with many 
 other parts of Scotland, Wales, and the south of England. 
 The ancient Roman historians, to whom we are chiefly 
 indebted for anything we know upon this subject, do not 
 mention Galloway especially, but their writings lead one to 
 believe that Druidism was the religion of all Scotland at that
 
 NOTES. 215 
 
 period of history. Even royal princes (according to Hollin- 
 shed, "Scot: Chronicles," sixteenth century) brought up 
 their sons to learn the doctrines of this religion ; this historian 
 instancing a prince who sent his sons for that purpose to the 
 Isle of Man. A course of Druidical education embraced all 
 the sciences, and often occupied twenty years before the 
 pupil became certified. ("Caledonia.") 
 
 In proof of the assertion that Druidism was veiy wide- 
 spread, the following may be quoted from Dr. Bryce- 
 Johnston's account of the parish of Holywood, in Dumfries- 
 shire. " Statistical Account, " vol. i. p. 18. " Holywood is 
 evidently derived from the holy wood, or grove of oak trees, 
 which surrounded a large Druidical temple, still standing 
 within half a mile of the parish church. It is formed of 
 twelve very large whin or moor stones, as they are called, 
 which inclose a circular piece of ground, of about eighty yards 
 in diameter. The oaks have all now perished ; but there is 
 a tradition of their existing in the last age. Many of their 
 roots have been dug out of the ground by the present minister, 
 and he has still one of them in his possession." 
 
 On Captain Basil Hall's asking Sir Walter Scott, at 
 Abbotsford, in 1824, the name of a certain spot, the poet 
 replied it was called " Haxel Cleugh," and added that he 
 was long puzzled to find the etymology of the name, and all 
 that was known regarding the spot was the tradition which 
 existed of there having been a Druidical temple there once. 
 "At length," to use Sir Walter's own words, "when I was 
 reading very early one fine summer's morning, I accidentally 
 lighted on a passage in some German book, which stated 
 Haxa was the old German term for a Druidess. Here, then, 
 was the mystery solved " (" Lockhart's Life of Scott," vol. v. 
 p. 377)- He.xe is the modern German for a witch. 
 
 Tumuli and cairns are to be seen in nearly eveiy parish of 
 Ayr, Dumfries, and Galloway ; such, for instance, having their 
 names perpetuated, as Cairn-holy, Grey-cairn, White-cairn, 
 and Cairn-narran, in Inch parish, Wigtonshire, where are no 
 less than nine grey cairns. In the parishes of Parton and 
 Dairy and Carsphairn, Kirkcudbrightshire, are very fine
 
 2i6 NOTES. 
 
 examples of either cairns or of circles of "standing stones." 
 But perhaps the finest in the district exists at Tarhouse, some 
 three miles from the town of Wigtown. This circle of huge 
 stones consists of nineteen separate blocks, with three others 
 in its centre, standing in a line from east to west. Symson, 
 "A large Description of Galloway," p. 56, writing about 
 two hundred years ago, says : "There is a plaine called the 
 Moor, or standing-stones of Tarhouse, in which there is a 
 monument of three large whinstones, call'd King Galdus's 
 tomb, surrounded at about twenty foot distance with nineteen 
 great stones (but none of them so great as the three first 
 mentioned) erected in the circumference." Most writers and 
 also the majority of the antiquaries regard the circle as of 
 Druidical origin. It may be mentioned, however, that King 
 Galdus fell in battle with the Romans, so that it may have 
 been erected as a memorial to him, and afterwards have 
 served the purposes of the Druids. Oaks, still called 
 " Druids' trees," exist in many parts of the country, but of 
 course cannot be the originals under which the wild orgies 
 and sacrifices of the priests were held. 
 
 Note M. 
 
 " Gilbert Haye, that warrior's name. 
 That lady— Lady Alice Graem." 
 
 The ancient family of Hay, or De la Haye, were amongst 
 the most devoted of the Bruce's followers, and shared the 
 King's confidence and love. At the commencement of the 
 struggle for independence, there were with Robert Bruce, in 
 the island of Rathlin, in the winter of 1306-7, the two brothers, 
 Gilbert de la Haye of Errol, and Hugh de la Haye, together 
 with many others. Hugh de la Haye, with Thomas Somer- 
 ville of Lintoun, ancestor of Lord Somerville, were both 
 taken prisoners by the English at the disastrous battle of 
 Methven, but neither were executed at the time. 
 
 Barbour speaks of Gilbert as 
 
 " SchjT Gilbert de la Haye alsua."
 
 NOTES. 217 
 
 Robert Bruce rewarded him by creating him the hereditary 
 Lord High Constable of Scotland, "a title which he used 
 l6th March, 1308, where, in a letter from the peers of Scot- 
 land to Philip the Fair of France, he is designed Gilhcrtiis de 
 Hay, Constabtilarius Scotia:. He was slain at the battle of 
 Halidoun hill." (Notes to " Lord of the Isles," Canto H.) 
 
 Hew de la Haye was the brother, as previously mentioned, 
 of the Earl of Errol ; and, says Dr. Jamieson (notes to Bar- 
 bour's " Bruce, " book II., p. 429), this family " was palpably 
 of Norman extract, De la Haye, * of the hedge,' in spite of 
 Boyce's fables concerning it and Douglas. The story of the 
 name having originated from the old man crying out from 
 fatigue, after the battle of Loncarty, Hay, hay ! is evidently 
 absurd. But from the lands, armorial bearings, &c., it seems 
 probable that some person of this name distinguished himself 
 in that memorable action." 
 
 With regard to Lady Alice Graem, I have to admit that I 
 have created this personage in the poem, because many ladies, 
 whose names were not presen'ed to History, were with the 
 Bruce during his wanderings in 1306-7-8, in Galloway, Ayr, 
 and also in the Highlands. " There was," says Fraser Tytler 
 (" History of Scotland," vol. i. p. 220), "a romantic interest 
 about Bruce's fortunes, which had a powerful effect upon the 
 female mind, and the hero seems to have availed himself of 
 this influence.* He had already received assistance from the 
 Countess of Buchan and Christina of the Isles ; and now, on 
 hearing of his success in Carrick, he was joined by a lady, 
 nearly related to him, but whose name has been lost. She 
 brought him, however, a seasonable supply of money and 
 provisions, and a reinforcement of forty men. From her, too, 
 he first learnt the miserable fate of Seton, Athole, and the 
 garrison of Kildrummie, and, during the recital, is said to have 
 vowed deeply that their deaths should not go unrevenged." 
 There is thus little reason for our doubting that ladies were 
 with the patriot during these troublous years, and dwelt in 
 the numerous mountain caves. 
 
 * Barbour, Jamieson's edition (Book IV., luie 541, ei seij.). 
 
 P
 
 2i8 NOTES. 
 
 Note N. 
 
 '^ Btii long in Buchan' s forest grown. 
 Until by wintry blast o'erthrown." 
 
 The far-stretching tract of land known in the Bruce's time 
 as the "forest of Buchan," lay partly in Kirkcudbrightshire 
 and partly in Ayrshire. It "occupied an immense area, in- 
 cluding large tracts in the parishes of Straiten, Dalmellington, 
 Carsphairn, Muinigaff, and New Galloway. From Loch 
 Doon it extended by Carsphairn and Loch Dee to Loch 
 Trool, and thence to the water of Cree. The following 
 modern farms were, a.d. 1500, all included in the forest : — 
 The farm of Buchan (the house of which stands on Loch 
 Trool), of 9,999 acres in extent ; the shepherds call it the 
 "four nines." There were also Portmark, Arrow, Lamloch, 
 Lochhead, the Star, Shalloch o' Muinoch, Tarfessoch, Pal- 
 gowan, Stroan, Dungeon of Buchan, Glenhead, Garrarj', 
 Castle Maddy, the Bush, the Cowering Lane, Poomaddy,* 
 and others, over which the Cassilis family then ranged as 
 undisputed owners. Much of the so-called forest was bare, 
 rocky heath, but there was also a great extent of wood. There 
 were in it also some rich and well-sheltei'ed pasturages, and 
 many beautiful glens, the whole abounding in game. 
 
 "Lord Kennedy delighted in the title of 'Ranger of the 
 Forest of Buchan, ' and a nobler field for the wild sports of 
 the chiefs of former days could hardly be imagined. Many 
 hunting-lodges were here kept up for his convenience, of 
 which, to this day, there are numerous remains. Of these, 
 his favourite stood under the Dungeon of Buchan, on a pretty 
 green knoll surrounded by three small lakes ; it was called 
 Hunt Hall, and a choice spot it was for a sporting rendezvous. 
 Garrary was another of his haunts, and also Poomaddy, where 
 shepherds still tell the tale that the food for Cassilis's hounds 
 was prepared in former days. 
 
 " The limits of the forest gradually contracted, and, in the 
 seventeenth century, that part lying in the parish of Muinigaff 
 
 * Now Po'.maddy.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 219 
 
 alone retained the name. There is a procuratory of resig- 
 nation by which ' the free Forest of Buchan, is granted l>y 
 John, sixth Earl of Cassilis, to John Gordon of Lochinvar, 
 dated nth February, 1628,* all of which is now the property 
 of the Earl of Galloway. In the days of which we write, the 
 forest existed (about the year 1500) in its full glory, and its 
 borders marched with many of the lands of the Laird of 
 Lochinvar ; causes for feud were seldom wanting between the 
 Gordons and the Kennedys (Agnew's ' Hereditary Sheriffs,' 
 p. 138). The forest held very large red deer, wild boars, 
 roedeer, foxes, wolves, otters, white and red grouse, black 
 game, and probably the mighty elk, horns approaching the 
 shape and size of wliich have from time to time been found 
 amongst the peat-bogs, little the worse for their long immersion 
 in the soft soil. 
 
 " So powerful were the Earls of Cassilis in former days, 
 and so numerous tlie various branches of the Kennedy clan, 
 that the following rhyme was used as a proverb throughout 
 the south of Scotland in connection with their great power : — 
 
 " ' 'Twixt Wigton and the town of Air, 
 Portpatrick and the Cruives + of Cree, 
 No man need think for to 'bide there 
 Unless he court with Kennedie.' " 
 
 Svmson's Large Description 0/ Galloway, p. 80. 
 
 As may be well imagined, a good deal of litigation used to 
 take place as to the ownership of some of these wild forest 
 lands, and tradition hath it that at a certain trial one of Lord 
 Ailsa's witnesses, who was a Maybole weaver, distinguished 
 himself by swearing that, on the disputed spot, he was standing 
 on Lord Ailsa's ground. The only truth in the statement was 
 that he had placed some earth in the boots he had on his feet, 
 and swore on his sole! 
 
 Note O. 
 " In Cala'on's woods thai lately gt-ew. " 
 The beautiful woods of Caldons, close to the loch of Trool, 
 formed anciently part of the forest of Buchan, and abound in 
 
 • Mackenzie. t " Cruives "— windinrrs.
 
 220 NOTES. 
 
 memorials of the times of the persecution of the Covenanters. 
 In a small open clearing amongst the oaks and silver birches, 
 where once a dwelling-house stood, whose stones still lie in a 
 heap, is the grave of the six heroic martyrs who fell on the 
 spot. " Where they fell they were buried. Quite a melan- 
 choly interest invests the lone sequestered spot. Nothing 
 marked their place of sepulture until, about the middle of 
 last century. Old Mortality erected over their common grave 
 the first monumental stone of his chisel. It is a small stone 
 about three feet high by two feet broad, and is carved in the 
 usual primitive rudeness which distinguishes the most of his 
 works. Its whole style, however, accords well with the 
 scene and the association. It bears the following inscription, 
 the letters being carved in the antique connected style : — 
 
 " Here lyes 
 
 James and Robert 
 
 Duns, Thomas and 
 
 John Stevensons, 
 
 James McClive, 
 
 Andreu McCall, who 
 
 were surprised 
 
 at prayer in this 
 
 House, by Colnell 
 
 Douglas, Lievtnant 
 
 Livingston and " 
 
 Turning to the back of the stone the inscription proceeds : — 
 
 " Cornet 
 
 James Douglas, and 
 
 by them most impious- 
 
 -ly and cruelly 
 
 niurthered for their 
 
 adherence to Scot- 
 
 -lands Reformation 
 
 Covenants National 
 
 and Solemn League, 
 
 1685.'" 
 
 Waugh's Calloivay Glimpses, p. 20.
 
 NOTES. ::i\ 
 
 These six unfortunate martyrs were thus cruelly slain Ly the 
 troop of dragoons, but one of their party managed to effect 
 an escape in a marvellous manner, by jumping into the lake, 
 and keeping his body concealed below the surface, while he 
 covered his head with a bush of lieather, so that he was un- 
 seen by the infuriated soldiers, two of whom were also killed. 
 One of their officers, a Captain Urquhart, was slain, according 
 to the tradition, under rather curious circumstances. On the 
 way to the Loch of Trool, the same morning, the difficulties 
 of the road had so exasperated him that he swore a fearful 
 oath to be revenged on the unlucky Covenanters. He dreamed 
 that he would meet his fate at a spot called the " Caldons," 
 and it was whilst he was riding up to a cottage of a shepherd 
 to inquire the whereabouts of the fugitives, that he asked the 
 name by which the place went. On receiving the reply, he 
 drew up his charger, uncertain whether to retire or advance, 
 at the same time uttering a loud oath, and at this instant a 
 shot fired from a window told on him with fatal effect. 
 
 Symson (1. c.) observes " that morning Captain Orchar had 
 that expression, that being so angry with the badness of the 
 way, he wished the Devil might make his ribs a boiling iron 
 to his soul, if he should not be revenged on the Whigges ! " 
 
 Note P. 
 
 *' As swnnion\i Britce a favourite slave. 
 Who hur7-ies, at the royal call. 
 From out a little inner hall. " 
 
 In the time in which the story of the poem is laid, every 
 baron was surrounded by lesser officers, soldiers, and retainers, 
 and all possessed slaves. Slaves, or bondmen, as they were 
 also termed, were either those prisoners captured in battle, or 
 the posterity of those who had been so taken, and who had 
 died in captivity. "They were often bought and sold with 
 the land on which they resided, but sometimes without it. 
 Their master possessed the same right of property over their 
 persons that he had over the cattle that belonged to his estate. 
 They could not remove without his permission, and his right
 
 222 NOTES. 
 
 of properly continued attached to them wherever they went ; 
 he could reclaim them with as much facility as he could seize 
 upon the animals which had strayed from his domain. The 
 whole effects of slaves belonged to their masters. This 
 degraded class of men were never allowed to arm, and they 
 could not hold any ofiice. The lav/s of the country protected 
 their lives, but in every other respect they remained at the 
 absolute disposal, and entirely at the mercy of their lords. A 
 bondman received his liberty after having possessed unques- 
 tioned freedom upon any estate in the country for seven years, 
 and within any burgh for a year and a day. Slavery continued 
 in full force in England until so late as the year 1536 ; though 
 in Scotland it appears to have been abolished at an earlier 
 date ("Hist, of Galloway," vol. i. pp. 238, 239). 
 
 One of these superior barons in truth was, in these days, a 
 miniature king, and also invariably acted in the capacity of 
 criminal judge, and imposed all penalties upon his own people, 
 even to the immuring them in dungeons, and awarding capital 
 punishment. Every baron possessed his gallows and "mur- 
 der-hole," the former for hanging male offenders, the latter 
 for drowning women. These pits were filled with water. 
 Some of the mti7-de>-- holes or pits, are said to be eighty feet 
 deep, from which human bones have been brought forth, and 
 their origin has been referred to the feudal grants, which were 
 conferred on so many barons, of having and using " pit and 
 gallows." " Pit," says Skene, " is a hole, wherein the Scots 
 used to drown women thieves." (" Caledonia.") 
 
 Note Q. 
 
 "As when they drove the pirate Dane 
 Defeated to his shores again ; 
 Or how, tvhen saiPd the Northtnan o'er, 
 Ajid thought to land on Scottish shore, 
 They sank their galleys ^neath the wave. 
 And gave the foe a watery grave." 
 
 The district of Galloway, with the coast of Carrick, was, 
 from its position by the sea-shore, very favourable for the
 
 NOTES. 223 
 
 landing of an enemy, and of this the Norsemen often took 
 advantage. Magnus, King of Norway, landed in the year 
 1098, and erected on the precipitous shore the Castles of 
 Burgh-head r.nd Castle-feather, with others whose names are 
 lost sight of, and from the magnitude of these buildings it was 
 evident the Norsemen intended to keep possession of the 
 country. His rule was not a long one, however, as he met 
 with the fate due to his crimes in 1103, in the North. The 
 Danes also from time to time made piratical descents upon 
 the coasts of south-western Scotland, but King Haco of Nor- 
 way, and Olave the "swarthy," or "black King of Man," 
 joined their forces about 1260, and invaded Cantire, taking 
 the Castle of Bute, and laying the people under heavy contri- 
 butions. In this engagement the Noi-wegians and the 
 Islanders together lost several ships and over three hundred 
 men (Abercromby's "Martial Achievements of the Scots"). 
 There are to this day abundant evidences of the Danish 
 occupation of this part of the country, temporary though it 
 generally seems to have been. The words still remaining in 
 use, and which are undoubtedly Danish, are fell (a hill), and 
 scuii (discernment), derived from skoe7t (judgment). 
 
 The great battle on the sea-shore at Largs, in Ayrshire, 
 fought between Haco of Norway and Alexander III. of 
 Scotland, took place on October 2nd, 1263, in which (the 
 fine fleet of the Norwegians having been terribly beaten about 
 on the night preceding the battle), the invaders were driven 
 from the shore back to their vessels, with terrible slaughter, 
 and with the loss of most of their bravest leaders. 
 
 Note R. • 
 
 " How the glorious Wallace won 
 The ancient fort of Cruggleton, 
 That high upott its rugged rock 
 Had long withstood the battle shock. " 
 
 The taking of the Castle of Cruggleton, a very strong 
 fortress built upon a massive rock overlooking Wigtown Bay, 
 forms one of the most gallant and exciting episodes in the
 
 224 NOTES. 
 
 great patriot William Wallace's history. The Castle was 
 built in the course of the twelfth century, or perhaps at a far 
 earlier date. There can be little doubt that it was erected by 
 the Sea-Kings, and the materials of which it is built must 
 have been brought from a distance, no similar stone being 
 found in Galloway. Greater enlightenment on the subject 
 can be obtained by reference to Professor Munch, of 
 Christiania, in his "Chronica Regum Mannice and Insularum" 
 (published in i860, with accounts taken from the long lost 
 " Codex Flateyensis"). There can be'no question that Earl 
 Malcolm (there were two Earls of this name, both called 
 kings of Scotland) resided in about the middle of the 
 eleventh century in one of the large castles built by the 
 Norsemen " near Whitherne" {vide the work referred to). 
 
 lam indebted to Mr. P. H. Mc.Kerlie, F.S.A. Scot., a 
 representative of one of the most ancient families in Galloway, 
 for obligingly giving me these particulars concerning the 
 Castle of Cruggleton, in the taking of which by Wallace, 
 Steven and Kerlie (or Mc.Kerlie), the latter of which heroes 
 was his ancestor, this gentleman is naturally much interested. 
 From every point of view, then, taking into consideration 
 the size and extent of Cruggleton Castle, there is every pro- 
 bability for believing that it was occupied by Malcolm. The 
 precipice, immediately overlooking the ocean beneath, is fully 
 200 feet in height, and the castle, which stood upon its brow, 
 occupied about one and a half acres of ground. "Within 
 the walls, which were battlemented, there was a courtyard, 
 and buildings with eight towers. Another wall lined the 
 interior side of the fosse or moat, fifty feet wide, and very 
 deep, over which there was a drawbridge. The gate was 
 strongly fortified, with a guardhouse over it, and portcullis. 
 Landward it was thus, in these times, considered impregnable. 
 On the other side the sea made it equally so. Immediately 
 under the Castle there was a landing-place where vessels of 
 small burden could be drawn up and secured in tempestuous 
 weather. The means of communication was by a path up the 
 precipice, intersected at the harbour by a gate, having a small 
 guardhouse over it, and defended by a portcullis, &c. The
 
 NOTES. 225 
 
 path then ascended in a winding direction, and at the battle- 
 mented wall was another gate, fortified in the same way. 
 There is every reason to believe that Carolton and Crug- 
 gleton were both possessed for some time together, and that 
 the latter was taken from the Norsemen by the Carrols. 
 Different attempts by the Norsemen to retake the Castle 
 appear to have been made, but all without success. 
 
 "After the death of King David, a desperate descent was 
 made Ijy the Norsemen to recover their supremacy in Gallo- 
 way, but they were defeated by tlie Gahveygians." This is 
 supposed to have occurred in 1154. It was during one of 
 these sudden attacks of the Northern warriors tliat gave rise 
 to the interesting tradition of the old boatman. "As related, 
 the Norsemen, finding it impossible to retake the Castle of 
 Cruggleton by open assault, tried to do so by strategy. The 
 fleet kept hovering about the coast, and on what was thought 
 a favourable opportunity an old man stealthily approached 
 the castle in a boat, bearing the dreaded flag of Denmark. 
 This was the famous Reafen, or enchanted standard, in the 
 powers of which the Norsemen implicitely believed as 
 carrying conquest. It contained the figure of a raven, which 
 had been inwoven by the three sisters of Hingnar and Hubba, 
 with many incantations. The object was to gain access close 
 to, or if possible, on the ramparts, unfurl and wave the standard 
 when the garrison would have become powerless, and those 
 in ambush would have immediately taken the fortress. The 
 Carrols were, however, too much on the alert to allow of this, 
 and before the boatman could perform his perilous task, he 
 and his standard were seized, and the latter committed to the 
 flames in the courtyard. For long afterwards, as these super- 
 stitious times have handed down, the old boatman, with his 
 standard, annually appeared on the ramparts, and after 
 waving it, they both vanished in thin air. About three 
 centuries previously. King Alfred of England is said to have 
 captured a similar standard in Devonshire. From our 
 Galloway tradition, the Danes must have recovered it, or got 
 another." 
 
 The Carrols, or Kerlies, seem to have possessed the castle
 
 226 NOTES. 
 
 for about two centuries, defying the Norsemen the while, when 
 in or about the year 1282, Lord Soulis (probably Sir John) 
 visited William Carrol, the then possessor, upon an ostensibly 
 friendly footing. He, however, treacherously brought a large 
 armed force inside the walls, overpowered the garrison, 
 and took the castle, Carrol effecting his escape. John Comyn, 
 the Earl of Buchan, held the castle in 1292, in the name 
 of Edward I. of England, and in 1296, Henry de Percy was 
 the owner, followed in the next year by John of Hoddleston. 
 In 1297, the glorious Wallace, accompanied by William 
 Kerlie (or Carrol) and Stephen of Ireland, two of his most 
 devoted followers, was successful in capturing the Castle of 
 Wigtown from the English. The popular tradition I have 
 always heard in the immediate vicinity of the Castle of Cruggle- 
 ton is to the effect that these three gallant men szvain over to 
 the castle-rock, under cover of darkness, and then chmbed 
 the precipice. However that may be, I will transcribe Mr. 
 McKerlie's account. " They must have approached the Castle 
 from the bay of Cniggleton or Rigge, in a boat, the promon- 
 tory concealing their approach. This was at nightfall. 
 Previously a body of men had been placed in ambush on the 
 landward side. Wallace, Kerlie, and Stephen of Ireland 
 went by themselves, and evidently got out of the boat on to 
 the precipice, where the water is deep, for the description 
 given states 'the water under.' Further to the west, at very 
 low tides, there is a little space left where men could walk 
 on the rocks, and get to a part easier to climb ; but then at 
 that time discovery was certain, and the assault would have 
 failed. Besides, it is dangerous, from the rapidity with which 
 the tides rise on that coast. The place where the gallant trio 
 must have climbed shows what men they were. The apparent 
 impossibility was the cause of their success, for it could not 
 have been guarded like the other parts of the ramparts. How- 
 ever, they not only climbed the dangerous precipice in safety, 
 but got over the ramparts, killed the warder, raised the port- 
 cullis, let down the drawbridge, and opened the gate, when 
 Wallace blew his horn and those in ambush rushed in." 
 ' ' The English garrison of sixty men were thus surprised, over-
 
 NOTES. 227 
 
 powered, and all put to the sword, a priest and two women 
 only having been spared." 
 
 Note S. 
 
 " And the waves of the Sohuay shall crunson with blood, 
 For thousands shall drown ^neath her merciless flood. " 
 
 From the very earliest times the Solway Firth has been 
 dreaded for the extraordinary rapidity with which the strong 
 tides ebb and flow over its wide-stretching sands, where quick- 
 sands are by no means rare. The numerous and conflicting 
 currents which meet near the mouth of the rivers Esk, Nith, 
 and Annan, combine to keep up a perpetual and ever-changing 
 tumult of its waters. " Twice in every twenty-four hours the 
 tidal flow, suddenly raised above its ordinary level, rendered 
 fierce by the tumult, seeks an outvent at the estuary, through 
 which it rushes with a speed that is nowhei'e rivalled in the 
 United Kingdom, or perhaps in the world. It hurries on, carry- 
 ing a head four to six feet high, filling up the tortuous channels, 
 and sweeping over the broad level beds of the Frith with a 
 rapidity that has earned for its foam-crested billows the title 
 of the 'white steeds of the Solway.'" (McDowall's "History 
 of Dumfries," p. 523.) Many and many a life has been 
 thrown away on its dangerous sands, and I have often heard 
 the peasants on the Solway shores say, that the tide comes 
 in as fast as a good horse can gallop, and I believe it some- 
 times to be the case. When serious floods, especially in 
 winter time, take place in the rivers, the Solway is propor- 
 tionately swelled, and high tides cause disastrous inundations 
 on the low-lying lands. Well might Sir Walter Scott say, 
 
 " Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide." 
 
 Martnion. 
 
 Note T. 
 
 " On the braes of the Sarh." 
 
 A little stream flowing into the Solway, and dividing the 
 two countries of England and Scotland. From its thus form-
 
 228 NOTES. 
 
 ing debatable land, many a bloody fight took place in old days 
 upon its steep banks. In a very diy summer it almost ceases 
 to exist ; taking its rise about ten miles from the sea, its 
 source lying amongst the lower slopes of the Eskdale hills. 
 In 1449, the engagement knowm as the battle of Sark was 
 fought between the English army, some 20,000 or perhaps 
 more in number, commanded by the Earl of Northumberland 
 and his son, and the Scotch under Douglas's brother, George, 
 Earl of Ormond, in number 12,000 men. It was the greatest 
 and most bloody battle ever fought in Dumfriesshire since the 
 Scottish monarchy had been formed. Most of the Scotch 
 were armed with spikes and spears, the national weapon at 
 that period, whilst their foe were mainly archers. Over three 
 thousand English were slaughtered on the field, and more than 
 this number fell by the sword of the pursuers when they fled 
 to the banks of the Sark, which Vv'as now swollen by the in- 
 coming of the tide of the Solway, and beneath whose fiercely- 
 flowing waters hundreds found a watery grave. The English 
 had held, on the previous day, high wassail on its shores. 
 A full and gi'aphic account ofthis battle will be found in 
 Buchanan and Pitscottie's works. 
 
 Note U. 
 
 "And the tnoss by the Lochar be purple with gore.^' 
 
 The well-known morass that goes by the name of Lochar- 
 moss is a widely stretching flat of some ten miles in length, 
 by two or three in breadth, which lies alongside the Solway 
 in a northerly direction, stretching towards the towoi of Dum- 
 fries. It is nearly a dead level, and takes its name from a 
 very sluggish stream, called the Lochar, flowing as nearly as 
 possible through its centre. According to tradition it was 
 in very ancient days an immense forest ; next, the ocean flows 
 over it, converting it into a bay up which vessels could sail almost 
 to its head. Then it is supposed to have become choked by the 
 wreck of vegetation, and by the sands deposited by the tides 
 of the Solway, thus eventually being transformed into a bog,
 
 N07ES. 229 
 
 which it remains, though cultivated here and there on its out- 
 skirts, to the present day, A very thick stratum of sea-sand 
 lies below the surface of the moss, mixed with shells ; and 
 many large fragments of ancient ships and canoes have been 
 dug from this stratum, as well as iron anchors and grapples, 
 proving it once to have been navigable. Large trees have 
 been excavated from the bog ; chiefly fir, but also hazel, oaks, 
 and birches. The Nith is supposed to have once flowed over 
 this morass, and the old couplet of the peasants in the vicinity 
 of the bog runs thus : — 
 
 " Once a wood, and then a sea ; 
 Now a moss and aye shall be." 
 
 Robert the Bruce, says tradition, was unable to cross the 
 Locharmoss, when on his way to meet the Comyn at Dumfries, 
 and was compelled to travel round by the Tinwald hills. 
 
 NOTES TO INTRODUCTION TO 
 CANTO II. 
 
 Note A. 
 
 '■'Perchance thy steps may roam ivith me 
 By ancient Castle Kennedy, 
 Where on the loch's fair bosom wide 
 Ten thousand wavelets in their pride 
 Are dancing in the snn." 
 
 The very ancient building known as Castle Kennedy, not 
 far distant from Stranraer, now in ruins, is the property of 
 the Earl of Stair ; the beautifully kept grounds around it, 
 combined with its romantic site, and the natural beauty of 
 the surrounding scenery, together make it one of the most 
 beautiful and attractive spots in Galloway. 
 
 The first record of the property of Loch Inch, or Castle
 
 230 NOTES. 
 
 Kennedy, is in the year 1482, when John, Lord Kennedy, 
 who was son of Gilbert, by Catherine, daughter of the first 
 Lord Maxwell of Caerlaverock, was appointed the "keeper of 
 the manor, place, and loch of Inch." This Lord Kennedy's 
 only son was afterwards created first Earl of Cassilis ; hence, 
 doubtless, the name of Castle Kennedy. The Castle itself 
 was not finished in the year 1607, though there is, so far as I 
 can find, no record of when it was commenced. 
 
 Symson, in his old "Galloway Description," observes 
 that the castle " hath also gardens and orchards environed 
 with the loch. On the other side of the loch, towards the 
 north-west, stands the parish Kirk of the Inch, so-called from 
 a little island, 'situated in the loch, a little way from the kirk ; 
 within this little island, also planted with trees, is a little 
 house built, into which the late Earl of Cassilis used to retire 
 himself betivixt sermons, having a boat for that purpose." 
 Probably this was the sixth Earl of Cassilis, whose good 
 lady was a daughter of the Earl of Haddington, and who 
 is generally (though quite erroneously) supposed to be the 
 heroine of the old ballad of " Johnie Faa," when the "hero," 
 — in the shape of Sir John Faw, her old lover, — comes to the 
 Castle disguised as a gipsy, and persuades Cassilis's bride to 
 elope with him. 
 
 " The gypsies came to our good lord's gate, 
 
 And, wow, but they sang sweetly ; 
 They sang sae sweet and sae very complete. 
 
 That down came the fair lady. 
 
 O, come with me,' says Johnie Faw, 
 ' O come with me, my dearie ; 
 For I vow and I swear by the hilt of my sword, 
 That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.' " 
 
 The Earl, however, returned before the fugitives got far 
 away, and having collected his vassals, he followed and came 
 up with them, near the English border, when all were slain 
 but one ; — 
 
 " And we were fifteen weel-made men, 
 
 Altho' we were na bonny ; 
 And we were a' put down but ane, 
 
 For a fair young wanton lady."
 
 NOTES. 231 
 
 • The Earl, on bringing back the fair fugitive, banished her 
 mensdct thord, and, it is said, confined her for life in a tower 
 at the village of Maybole, in Ayrshire, built for that purpose. 
 (Finlay's "Scottish Ballads," vol ii.) 
 
 The Marquis of Ailsa informs me that this account, which 
 has appeared in so many volumes of Scottish ballads, is en- 
 tirely erroneous. The result of a search amongst the Kennedy 
 family archives at Culzean Castle a few years ago established 
 beyond a doubt that the Tady Cassilis in question never be- 
 haved as represented in the ballad, but lived and died at peace 
 with her lord. The true story of "Johnnie Faa" will be 
 found, on reference to the "Memorials of the Montgomeries, 
 Earls of Eglinton," by my friend Mr. W. Eraser, LL.D., 
 deputy keeper ofthe records at Edinburgh (Preface, pp. ix-xii). 
 
 The Dalrymples afterwards obtained possession of Loch 
 Inch, and other lands, and in 1677, John Dalrj'mple, styled 
 Sir John of Stair, got possession of a large tract of Wigtown- 
 shire lands that had belonged to the Kennedies. Castle 
 Kennedy is historically interesting, for there King William 
 took up his quarters, when he brought his fleet to Lochrj'an, 
 on his way over to Ireland, where he soon after fought the 
 famous battle of the Boyne. 
 
 In the year 1715, Castle Kennedy was accidentally burned, 
 when valuable family papers were destroyed. The walls, 
 still standing, are about seventy feet in height, and very 
 picturesque. 
 
 Note B. 
 
 " And e'en the inoffensive awl, — 
 
 A sad but frequent sight. 
 That fell to that unerring ai?n 
 Which might have sought a nobler game ! " 
 
 It has ever been utterly incomprehensible to myself to 
 observe the extraordinary conduct of the majority of game- 
 keepers, Scottish, English, and Irish, with regard to the poor
 
 lyi 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 harmless owl ! Everyone, I conclude, is aware that the owl 
 seeks its prey at night, when all game-birds are, or ought to 
 be, safely asleep ; very rarely being abroad by day. Their 
 food, too, is principally mice, small rats, beetles, and the 
 like ; yet does one see these unfortunate, persecuted birds 
 swinging in the breeze, strung up on every '•' keeper's gibbet 
 tree ! " Personally, I am fully convinced of their utility. 
 Let me be forgiven if I offer one instance of this. 
 
 When I was residing, in 1879, at Dunskey, in Wigtown- 
 shire, I knew, personally, of no less than sixteen nests, with 
 eggs or young, in the month of April, in the one large wood 
 surrounding the house, and of the shooting of which I was 
 the tenant. These were all nests of the short-eared owl, 
 which is brown in colour. There were, no doubt, many other 
 nests of owls which I did not discover. Under the trees on 
 which their nests were built, were countless pellets ejected 
 by the birds, and each one of which contained the skulls, 
 bones, and hair of several mice ! I constantly watched the 
 pair of old owls carrying mice to their young, of which there 
 was an average of six to each nest. As far as I could count 
 each pair of birds would kill twenty mice per day, and as 
 they fed their young for a period of about three months, the 
 number of mice destroyed on that portion of the estate alone 
 would amount in that time to some 28,800 mice ! Who, I 
 ask, would shoot an owl again? 
 
 Note C. 
 
 " And pause we where thy braes, Glen App, 
 Rise proudly from old ocean's lap" 
 
 The beautifully picturesque valley, with its surrounding hills 
 or rather heath-clad mountains, known as Glen App, rises 
 from the sea-shore, at the very northern end of Loch Ryan, 
 and may be said to form the division between Ayrshire and 
 the district of Galloway. An ancient and favourite after- 
 dinner toast in assemblies of Gallovidians in all parts of the
 
 NOTES. 233 
 
 world is, "The heallh of a' the wives, weans, an lassies o' 
 Galloway frae the Brig en' o' Dumfries to the Braes o' Glen 
 App!" 
 
 Glen App is also celebrated for the famous and wondrous 
 featsof Saint Patrick ! "Once, when al^oul to revisit liis native 
 land, he crossed the channel at a stride, leaving the mark of 
 his foot distinctly impressed on one of the rocks of the harbour 
 (of Port Patrick) : unfortunately, in making a new jetty, this 
 interesting memento was destroyed. " He, however, performed 
 on returning to Scotland, a far more wonderful feat. 
 " Plaving preached to an assembly on the borders of Ayrshire, 
 the barbarous people seized him, and, amidst shouts of savage 
 glee, struck his head from his body in Glen App : the good 
 man submitted meekly to the operation ; but no sooner was it 
 over than he picked up his own head, and passing through the 
 crowd, walked back to Port Patrick ; but finding no boat 
 ready to sail, he boldly breasted the waves and swam across 
 to the opposite shore, where he safely arrived (according to 
 the unanimous testimony of Irishmen innumerable) holding 
 his head bettveen his teeth!" (Sir Andrew Agnew's "Hereditary 
 Sheriffs.") 
 
 • Note D. 
 
 " And well ''tis knmvn, each Halloiu-e'en 
 Their ladies, dress'' d ifi gold and green, 
 
 Dance gay with circling tread. 
 T7ie marks of whom thoti still mayi'st see. 
 If o'er the wilds thou roam'st with me. 
 
 In many aflowWy mead." 
 
 The belief in fairies, goblins, and the "little folk," was 
 universal in the South of Scotland, and to a great extent still 
 exists. They hold their special feasts and dances at Hallow- 
 e'en. Everyone is familiar with those large circles in woods, 
 pastures, and even on the moors, with rows of toadstools grow- 
 ing around them. These are supposed to be made by the 
 fairies dancing. 
 
 Q
 
 234 NOTES. 
 
 NOTES TO CANTO II. 
 
 Note A. 
 
 " Btit still a ling' ring crimson ray 
 Falls soft on Garlics' Tower.'''' 
 
 The Stewarts of Garlies are one of the most ancient families 
 in the south-west of Scotland, and one of their first, if not the 
 first, residences in Galloway appears to have been the tower or 
 castle of Garlies, a short distance from the river Cree, where 
 the modern town of Newton Stewart (originally New-town 
 Douglas, but changed to its present designation soon after it 
 was founded) now stands. This little towm occupies one of 
 the most beautiful situations in the land, environed as it is 
 by the most glorious mountains, situated in a wann and plea- 
 sant valley, and enjoying a genial and comparatively warm 
 climate. 
 
 The fii"st known of the family of Stewart is supposed to 
 have been one Alan, a Norman, son of Flaad, who obtained 
 the barony of Oswestry, in Shropshire, from William the Con- 
 queror. From his second son the Royal family of Scotland 
 descend : he was appointed steward, or meat-bearer, to the 
 Royal household by David I., and from this individual de- 
 scended Alexander, sixth lord High Steward of Scotland, 
 who obtained a gi-ant of the Barony of Garlies on 30th 
 November, 1263, in reward, probably, for having shortly before 
 gr-eatly distinguished himself in the victory at Largs, in Ayr- 
 shire, over the Norsemen. He married Jean, daughterof James, 
 grandson of Somerled, Earl of Bute ; and their issue were as 
 follows : (l) James, seventh Lord High Steward of Scotland, 
 grandfather of King Robert II., and ancestor consequently 
 of the entire royal line of Stewart or Stuart. (2) John, 
 who obtained the lands of Garlies from his father, and 
 who was eventually slain at the battle of Falkirk, fighting
 
 NOTES. 235 
 
 under the patriot William Wallace. His issue were: — Sir 
 Alexander, first Earl of Angus ; Sir Alan, ancestor of the 
 Stewards of Darnley, Earls and Uukes of Lennox ; and 
 Sir Walter, who obtained the lands of Dalswinton, in Nilhs- 
 dale, by charter from Robert the Bruce, in reward for his 
 war-services. 
 
 I have mentioned these in some detail, as I would wish to 
 point out that there is strictly historical truth underlying the 
 poem ; and although it does not appear quite certain which 
 of the above possessed the castle of Garlics in Bruce's day, 
 yet it must have been one of the Stewarts last mentioned, some 
 of whom, if not all, had issue. 
 
 The Castle, which has been a ruin for some centuries, must 
 have been a place of considerable strength, and occupies a site 
 of great natural beauty. Symson, writing in 1684, in reference 
 to the parish of IMinnigaff (Monnygaffc, as it was anciently 
 termed) says that ' ' the principal edifice in that district is Garlics, 
 the ancient residence of the Lairds of Garlics, before that 
 family were nobilitated ; it doth yet furnish a title to the Earl 
 of Galloway, his eldest son, who is Lord Garlics. This house, 
 being about a mile to the northward of the kirk and town, 
 stands in the midst of a very fine oak wood, pertaining to the 
 said Earl, who also hath another excellent oak wood in this 
 parish, lying upon the water of Cree." ("Large Descrip. 
 tion,"p. 50.) 
 
 Note B. 
 
 " To seek the pearls that lie beneath. 
 Hid in the fairy mussel shell. 
 That Scottish maidens love so well," 
 
 The fresh-water mussel, in which pearls, often of considerable 
 size, are found, is to this day common in many of the rivers in 
 the south of Scotland, and also in the north of Ireland, where 
 I have seen very good pearls taken from the shells of mussels. 
 The rivers Cree, and Dee in Galloway, as well as the Dum- 
 friesshire Nith and the Aysrhire streams, used to be all famous
 
 236 NOTES. 
 
 for these mussels, and I have myself taken no less than five 
 pearls in one afteraoon from shells obtained by wading in the 
 Dee near New Galloway : one of these pearls was very white 
 and good, and of the size of a large pea. In olden days they 
 were probably much more numerous, and Scottish pearls 
 were much sought after by ladies of rank, to deck themselves 
 with. 
 
 In the more northern rivers, as the Tay and Teith, larger 
 pearls exist, and sometimes are worth as much as £2. each. 
 The scientific designation of the pearl-bearing mussel is Unio 
 via7-garitifer^ and many rivers throughout the land in former 
 days had their pearl fisheries, many of which were conducted 
 upon a large scale. It is said, as we learn from old historians, 
 that the original invasion of Britain by the Romans took place 
 in consequence of the tales which had reached that warlike 
 people concerning the excellent quality of the precious pearls 
 to be found in English rivers, and of their wondrous abun- 
 dance. 
 
 Note C. 
 
 '■^ And how she on the instant drew 
 To full extent her bow of yew." 
 
 The bows of the time of Bruce were probably principally 
 formed of the yew tree. In the grasp of the archer, the long 
 yew bow was a most formidable weapon, and the springiness 
 of the wood and the great length of the bow caused a shaft to 
 be propelled to a great distance, and with wonderful power 
 of penetration. To the English bows of yew, we owe some 
 of our proudest victories, as Cressy and Poictiers, and 
 Agincourt. It causes, then, little reason for our surprise 
 when we read in old chronicles that so valued was this tree, 
 that every care was taken, until Elizabeth's reign (when 
 fire-arms were introduced) to preserve the yew, to foster its 
 growth, and to form new plantations of it, and many statutes 
 were passed, during various reigns, for the purpose of pro-
 
 NOTES. 237 
 
 tecting the yew, and of forbidding its exportation. Archery 
 is of great antiquity, its first known introduction into Britain 
 being previous to a.d. 440. 
 
 Note D. 
 
 " To grim Craignelder's distant crest, 
 Wlure human footstep never pressed." 
 
 Craignelder, or Craignilder, is a precipitous and wild 
 mountain to the northward of Cairnsmore of Fleet. Local 
 tradition attaches to the immediate vicinity of this hill, as 
 having been the scene of a fierce conflict between the Gordons 
 of Lochinvar, and Archibald Douglas, Lord of Galloway, 
 who seems to have been a gloomy warrior of a retiring, cruel, 
 and savage nature, and whose stronghold was the Castle of 
 Threave, at that time the most formidable strength in 
 Galloway. 
 
 The late Captain Denniston, to whose veracity, however, I 
 fear one is hardly justified in giving an undoubting credence, 
 published in 1832 a little poem, called the "Battle of Craig- 
 nilder," which purports to tell the story, which it does at 
 some length and in local phraseology, of the fight. It com- 
 mences as follows ; and is said to have been sung by an old 
 woman in the Glenkens district a hundred years ago. 
 
 " O heard ye o' that gallant fray, 
 
 Was fought on Nildet's Scar, man, 
 Whare Douglass met in fell array, 
 
 The fiery Lochinvar, man ? 
 For Galloway's Lord had sworn an aith. 
 In vengeance for his nephew's death ; 
 That he would spend his dearest breath, 
 Wi' Sword and Spear in harness graith,* 
 And a' the means o' working scaith,t 
 Culled out o' ruin's store, man ! 
 That in the van 
 He'd lead his Clan 
 And harry Machermore, man ! 
 
 * Armour. t 111-
 
 238 NOTES. 
 
 Then round he sent the fiery cross, 
 
 It flash'd thro' wild Disdeer, man. 
 And flickering through ilk dale and moss. 
 
 It waken'd up Troqueer, man. 
 The Maxwells heard the martial tread, 
 As round Loch Kinder's waves it sped, — 
 Each buckled on his trusty blade. 
 And frae the stall the charger led ; 
 Their Clans, in doughty harness clad. 
 Sang out wi' merry glee, man. 
 As fast they trode 
 The winding road, 
 Awa to bormy Dee, man ! 
 
 Drumlanrich sent twa halted knights. 
 
 And vassals five times ten, man, 
 
 Kilpatrick's twenty plaided wights 
 
 Came rankin * down the glen, man. 
 » » # » 
 
 Then IMachermore he started up. 
 
 His cheeks inflamed wi' wrath, man, 
 
 Toss'd in the fire his wassail cup. 
 And buckled on his graith, man. 
 
 He roused McKie and warn'd McKill 
 
 To bring their forces from the hill ; 
 
 And Garlics famed for weapon skill, 
 
 Brought in his power wi' right good will. 
 
 And Castle Stewart led bye the Gill 
 O' glancing spears a score, man. 
 And Skeonchan's laird, t 
 And brave Glencaird, 
 
 Bore down on Machermore, man ! " 
 
 Then follows the graphic description of all the brave friends 
 of Lochinvar who gathered round his banner from the Glen- 
 kens, including the lairds of Earlston, Glenlee, Stroncastle, 
 Barskeoh, Portmark, Knockgray, Dundeugh, Knochsting, 
 Castlemaddy, Brochloch, Todston, LugwjTie, and others, 
 including Stewarts, Gordons, Maxwells, and Kennedies. 
 At or near the mountain of Craignilder they encountered 
 the foe, and after a most sanguinaiy engagement in which 
 some half of the combatants fell on either side, until at 
 
 * Hurrying. + Eschonchan mountain.
 
 NOTES. 239 
 
 length Douglas' men withdrew under cover of night, leaving 
 the Kensmen masters of the field. Then 
 
 "The ruddy wine flowed in the cog, 
 An' the' they had na mickle prog, 
 They piled the gleed wi' mony a log, 
 Till rangers came wi' steer an' hog. 
 Then soon the feast was spread, man. 
 The watch gaed roun ', 
 The host lay doun. 
 Each belted in his plaid, man.'" 
 
 The raid of the Douglasses, which seems to have led to 
 this battle, was apparently directed against the family of 
 Machermore. This house, according to Symson (" Description 
 of Galloway ") was of considerable standing in Galloway, the 
 first of the family being the youngest son, by name M 'Clurg, 
 of the woman known as the "gude wife of Craigencallie," 
 the lands in question fomiing part of tlie original grant by 
 King Robert Bruce to her three sons, a fuller account of 
 whom and of their services to the monarch will be found in a 
 subsequent note. 
 
 Note E. 
 
 "As comes he from Saint Nmian^s shrine 
 That very eve at the hour of nine, ''^ 
 
 It is supposed that Saint Ninian was of Saxon origin, and 
 that he hailed originally from Northumberland, and was bom 
 in the year 368, and was a direct emanation from the Roman 
 See, whereas the missionaries of lona, called "Culdees," 
 were independent of the Papal authority, and were spread 
 all over Scotland. According to Symson and other writers 
 this Saint Ninian erected, at the Isle of Whithorn, a chapel, 
 which was called the '* chapel of the Isle ;" it was surrounded, 
 however, by a burial-ground, from which one would think 
 the chapel was built as a chapel of ease to the monastery of
 
 240 NOTES. 
 
 Candida Casa, only three miles distant, in which case the 
 date of its erection would be considerably later. 
 
 St. Ninian is, however, said to have expired i6th Septem- 
 ber, 432, that day becoming ever afterwards his festival, and 
 his body was interred in his chapel, where many miracles 
 were afterwards wrought by his means. It would seem the 
 saint was his own bishop, and for more than three hundred 
 years after his death, the Picts of Galloway owned no ecclesias- 
 tical head whatever. From 723, when Pickthelme, the first 
 bishop, was consecrated, there was a regular succession of 
 bishops till the twelfth century, when King David I. of Scot- 
 land instituted the diocese of Candida Casa, which included 
 all Wigtownshire and the Stewartry of ICirkcudbright, with 
 the one exception of the lands lying betwixt the Urr and the 
 Nith rivers, which were included in Glasgow diocese. 
 
 On August 28th, 1292, Thomas, the then bishop of Gallo- 
 way or Candida Casa, and the Prior, one Morice, swore alle- 
 giance to Edward the First of England. Soon afterwards, 
 however, they changed with the times, and were high in the 
 favour of the Bruce, who gave very large grants of lands, 
 salmon-fishery rights, and other concessions to the Priory. 
 The shrine of St. Ninian was famous for the number of 
 pilgrimages that were made to it annually, and many persons 
 of high rank, including kings and queens, visited it. 
 
 Amongst these, King Kenneth the Third, who died 994, did 
 so, and the queen Margaret, wife of James the Third, did the 
 same. King James the Fourth made annual pilgrimages, and 
 oftentimes twice a year, to the shrine of St. Ninian, and 
 generally took with him his minstrels, and a costly retinue. 
 At Whithorn he gave, besides his usual offerings, £10 for ten 
 " trentates" (or thirty masses) to be offered up for himself: 
 this was in 1497. " In Feb. 1506, when the queen was 
 delivered of her first son, who died next year, she was not 
 expected to live. The king made a pilgrimage on foot, from 
 Edinburgh to Whithorn, in March following. The king had 
 with him four Italian minstrels, who seem" (by the treasurer's 
 book-accounts) " to have got tired, for horses were engaged 
 to carry them from Whithorn to Tungland." The following
 
 NOTES. 241 
 
 entries in the Royal account book concerning this journey 
 are curious : — " Item (9th March) to the wif of the Mureal- 
 houss, quhair the king brealcfastcd, vj. shillings. Item, that 
 nycht in Dolpliingtoun to the priest for fae, candill, and 
 belcheir (good entertainment) quhair the king lay, xviij. s. 
 Item, to a pure man in Dolpliingtoun hed a kow slane, xviij. s. 
 Item (13th March) to anc Irisch man that had Ills silver 
 stollin avv'ay, be the king is command, v. s. Item, to three 
 pure folkis at the water of Nyth, ij. s. Item, to twa trum- 
 petis that were at Quhitherne with the king, xxviiij. s. Item, 
 to long Jok and another cheld to led two hors to Edinburgh, 
 xiiij. s." There are many other quaint entries, and it was 
 during this pilgrimage that the king fell in love with Lady 
 Janet Kennedy, a daughter of John, second Lord Kennedy, 
 father of the first Earl of Cassilis. This lady became his mis- 
 tress, and usually passed by the name of Lady Bothwell, her son 
 being created, in 1591, Earl of Moray {vide " Lands and their 
 Owners in Galloway," vol. i. p. 469). The many thousands 
 of pilgrims who annually visited Saint Ninian's shrine were the 
 means of putting large sums of money into the hands of the 
 priors of Candida Casa, as well as into the coffers of the good 
 people of the town of Whithorn, which then appears to have 
 been in a much more flourishing condition than it is now ; 
 indeed, since the Reformation, previously to which it carried 
 on a good trade with the French, the burgh has become 
 merely an agricultural village. 
 
 Note F. 
 
 " See now impatient Edward race 
 Across the intervening space. " 
 
 The character of Edward Bruce, the brother and gallant 
 helpmate of King Robert, has been handed down to us by 
 Barbour and all contemporary historians as having been most 
 noble in itself, while his valour was glorious, but rash to a 
 degree which often nearly led to serious consequences, while
 
 242 NOTES. 
 
 his impatience was remarkable. As Scott says of him, when 
 the Bnice sees his brother coming towards him : 
 
 " See, brave Ronald,— see him dart 
 O'er stock and stone like hunted hart. 
 Precipitate, as is the use, 
 In war or sport, of Edward Bruce." 
 
 (" Lord of the Isles," Canto IV.) 
 
 The gallant Edward Bruce's indomitable bravery was 
 coupled with such recklessness that it led at length to his 
 own death. After he had been proclaimed King of Ireland, 
 he insisted, contrary to the advice of all his friends and 
 officers, in engaging a vastly stronger and altogether superior 
 force of the enemy, on the 5th of October, 13 18, at Fagher, 
 near Dundalk. He was slain by one John Maupas, who him- 
 self feU dead upon Edward's body, both dying at the same 
 instant. The English would here appear to have forgotten 
 the generous and noble conduct of Robert the Bruce after the 
 battle of Bannockbum, only five years previously ; for, to their 
 disgrace be it recorded, the dead body of the brave Edward 
 was treated with the most revolting indignity, it being cut 
 into quarters, which were publicly exposed to view in four 
 separate districts of Ireland, while his head was carried over 
 to England by the general of the victorious army as an 
 acceptable gift to King Edward II. 
 
 ]S^OTE G. 
 
 " Except the plover 07i the brae, 
 In black and golden plumage gay, ^'' 
 
 This refers to the golden plover (Charadrius pluvialis), 
 than which no more lovely bird can be seen in Scotland, when 
 gay in its summer dress. It is a handsome bird in the winter 
 time, with its pretty golden back and head and its white 
 breast ; but when occupied with its eggs or young on the 
 mountains, or by the shores of some quiet lake amongst the 
 hills, its garb of black and white and golden is exceedingly
 
 NOTES. 243 
 
 beautiful, while its sweet, but saddened and plaintive cry, as 
 it flits around an intruder, cannot fail to be associated by the 
 hearer with the wild scenes of lonely grandeur amid which 
 the plover loves to dwell. The green plover, or peewit 
 {vaneUus cristatus), is a far commoner bird, beautiful too, but 
 very noisy, and better known than its golden relative. 
 
 Note H. 
 
 ^' And then the rascals laughed, and told 
 HcTM Clifford and De Valance bold. 
 That very night had ar?)ied a band 
 Of valiant men by Minnock\ strafid." 
 
 De Valance, or as Archdeacon Barbour, writing five hun- 
 dred years back, calls him, "Aymer de Vallange," was the 
 Earl of Pembroke, then commanding Edward the First's forces 
 in Scotland, of which country the English king had nominated 
 him custodian. 
 
 There seems to be some difficulty about his name, Barbour 
 describing him thus, and quaintly chronicles the manner of 
 Comyn's death : 
 
 " And quhen to King Eduuard wes tauld 
 How at the Brwyss, that wes sa bauld. 
 Had broucht the Cumyn till ending, 
 And how he syne had maid him king, 
 Owt oflfhis wyt he went weill ner ;* 
 And callit till him Schir A incr 
 The IVallang, that wes wyss and wycht t 
 And off his hand a worthy knycht, 
 And bad him men off armys ta, 
 And in hy X till Scotland ga. 
 And bym, and slay, and raiss dragoun." 
 
 Dr. Jameson's Barbour's Bruce, bk. ii. p. 29. 
 
 Then we find Aymer de St. John mentioned as having com- 
 manded the English, so that the two Aymers have been by 
 
 *" He very nearly went out of his wits ! " t Valiant. I Haste.
 
 244 NOTES. 
 
 some previous writers been supposed to be one and the same 
 individual, but evidently this was not the case. In Pinkerton's 
 edition of " Barbour " (1790) we read (book vi. line 475) : 
 
 "The King spak upon this raaner, 
 And off Walence Schyr Ayvier 
 Assemblyt a gret cumpany." 
 
 And after the battle of Glentrool, in the autumn or late 
 summer of 1307, when Bruce defeated the enemy, we read, 
 
 " But Schyr Ainer, that wis wyss, 
 Departyt thaim with mekill pain. 
 And went till Ingland home again !" 
 
 And a few lines before this (p. 205, line 560) — 
 
 " Tauld how that Schyr Amery 
 With the Clyffurd in cumpany 
 With the flour off Northummyrland 
 Was cummand on thaim at thair hand." 
 
 Note I. 
 
 " As thought he of his gentle wife. 
 At once his love, his Queen, his life." 
 
 Robert the Bruce's queen, after the disastrous defeat of the 
 Scots at Methven, had shared in company with other faithful 
 and brave ladies, the greatest privations and hardships in the 
 wild district of Breadalbane (" Barbour," p. 41), where they 
 often had only roots and berries of shrubs to eat, added to 
 what game could be captured or fish obtained in the forests 
 and from the streams. After many very narrow escapes from 
 John of Lorn and his active highlanders, it was at length, to 
 Bruce's great sorrow, decided to send all the women to the 
 strong castle of Kildrummie, in Mar, which was done, under 
 a heavy escort, commanded by the King's youngest brother, 
 Nigel Bruce. The poor Queen, who was a daughter of the 
 Earl of Ulster, with Marjorie Bruce, the King's daughter, and 
 Aymer de Burgh, thinking themselves insecure in Kildrummie 
 Castle, which was soon threatened by the enemy, sought a
 
 NOTES. 245 
 
 shelter in the sanctuary of St. Duthac, at Tain, in the county 
 of Ross. The Queen and her daughter, however, were most 
 treacherously given up by the Earl of Ross to the English, 
 who violated the sanctuary and made prisoners of the ladies 
 and of all the knights who accompanied them. The latter 
 were executed by order of the English King, while Bruce's 
 Queen, who was his second wife, and Princess Marjorie, were 
 closely confined in various English prisons for eight long 
 years. 
 
 Note J. 
 
 "Then thought he of his brethren twain, 
 By English Edward foully slain. 
 Poor Alexander' s bleeding head. 
 And Thomas Bruce's, dripping red. 
 
 Appear before his gaze ; 
 And gallant Crawford'' s bloody fate. 
 And fierce McDoi-vaWs deadly hate, 
 
 Coinbitte his wrath to raise." 
 
 In the very outset of the Bruce's career of the glorious 
 struggle for his countiy's independence, sorrows innumerable, 
 disappointments without an end, defeats in battle, loss of his 
 most valued friends by death, and the barbarous executions of 
 many of his nearest and dearest blood-relations, would have 
 thrown a less gallant spirit into the depth of despair. Not 
 so, however, with Robert Bruce, whose terrible trials only 
 seemed to prompt his manly heart to fresh endeavours and to 
 new attempts to wrest his country from the Usurper. One of 
 the most grievous blows that befell the patriot king early in 
 the year 1307, was this : 
 
 " He had despatched his two brothers, Thomas and 
 Alexander, into Ireland, where they had the good fortune to 
 collect a force of seven hundred men, with which they crossed 
 over to Loch Ryan in Galloway. But their approach to the 
 coast had been watched by Macdowall, a chieftain of that 
 country, who was in the English interest, and as they attempted
 
 246 NOTES. 
 
 to make good a landing, he attacked, and completely routed 
 their little army. Many perished in the sea, and the rest 
 were either slain or taken prisoners. Of the prisoners, those 
 of note were Bntce's brothers, Thomas and Alexander, with 
 Sir Reginald Crawford, who were all grievously wounded. 
 Malcolm Mackail, lord of Kentire, along with two Irish reguli 
 or chiefs, were found amongst the slain. Macdowall, with 
 savage exultation, cut off their heads, and presented them, 
 and his illustrious prisoners, bleeding and almost dead, to the 
 King at Carlisle." ("Math. Westminster," pp. 457, 458, 
 and "Heningford," p. 225.) Edward commanded the two 
 Bruces and Crawford to be instantly executed. Thus within 
 a few short months had the King to lament the cruel death 
 of three brothers (see note L to following canto), that of his 
 dear friends Seton, Athole and Frazer (see note M, stanza 
 xxvii. ), besides the imprisonment of his queen and his daughter. 
 Langtoft, the historian, asserts in his account of the capture 
 of the Bruce's two brethren, that MacDowall surprised and 
 took them when returning from a church wdth their soldiers 
 upon Ash Wednesday, 1307 ("Langtoft," vol. ii, page 337), 
 but this is not at all probable. The MacDowalls were in 
 olden times the most powerful clan in Galloway, one of their 
 number, Roland Macdowall, being in the year 1190 called 
 "Princeps Gallovidiae" (Dugdale's "Monasticon," vol ii. 
 p. 1057). The modern representative is William MacDowall 
 of Logan. 
 
 Note K, 
 
 " Then Yore his eyes a vision rose. 
 Where bars of wood a cage enclose. 
 Secured with iron bolt and band, 
 And locked by servile English hand. 
 Where sorrowed Biichan's lovely da7Jie. " 
 
 Shortly after the taking of Kildnimmie Castle by the Earl of 
 Hereford, and the capture of Bruce's Queen, and the Princess
 
 NOTES. 247 
 
 Marjory, Isabella, Countess of Buchan, was also taken by 
 the English. King Edward had a terrible and vindictive 
 spite against this brave dame, whose beauty was the talk of 
 Scotland, but who had dared to beard the English monarch 
 by actually placing the golden crown upon the brow of King 
 Robert the Bruce as he sat upon his oaken throne at Scone, 
 the original famous stone chair on which all previous monarchs 
 had been crowned having been taken away to Westminster 
 Abbey (where it still remains) by Ed ward of England, whoalso 
 carried off the regalia of Scotland. Robert Bruce was solemnly 
 crowned on Friday, March the 27th, 1305, with a slight coro- 
 net of gold. (Rymer, " Foedera," vol. ii. p. 1048.) T\\\% coro- 
 nella aurea appears to have come into the hands of Geffrey de 
 Coigners, who concealed and preserved it, which gave great 
 offence to Edward. (Langtoft's " Chronicle," vol. ii. p. 331.) 
 It was, by all accounts, not expressly made for Robert's coro- 
 nation. A banner, wrought with the arms of Baliol, 
 was delivered to tlie new King hy the Bishop of Glasgow, 
 Wishart by name, and under its folds he received the allegiance 
 of all the barons, knights, and other leaders who were faithful 
 to his cause. 
 
 Two days, however, after the coronation, and before Bruce 
 left Scone, "they were surprised by the sudden arrival of 
 Isabella, Countess of Buchan, sister of the Earl of Fife, who 
 immediately claimed the privilege of placing the King upon 
 the throne. It was a right which had undoubtedly belonged 
 to the Earls of Fife from the days of Malcolm Canmore ; and 
 as the Earl of Fife was at this time of the English party, the 
 Countess, a high-spirited woman, leaving her home, joined 
 Bruce at Scone, bringing with her the war-horses of her 
 husband. The new King was not in a condition to think 
 lightly of anything of this nature. To have refused Isabella's 
 request, might give to his enemies some colour for alleging 
 that an essential part of the ancient solemnity had been omitted 
 at his coronation. The English historians would have us 
 believe that the lady was influenced by tenderer feelings 
 than ambition or policy : but this is doubtful. It is 
 certain that the King was a second time installed in the
 
 248 NOTES. 
 
 regal chair by the hands of the Countess." (" Tytler," vol. i. 
 p. 202.) 
 
 The relentless and vindictive Edward was delighted at the 
 news of the capture of the Lady Buchan, and he at once gave 
 orders for the construction of a large " cage," latticed with 
 wood and cross-barred, and strongly secured with iron, in one 
 of the highest turrets of the Castle at Berwick. 
 
 Grose, in his "History of the English Army" (pp. 116, 
 117), describes this cruel act of Edward's thus : — "For the 
 confinement of the Countess of Baghun, or Buchan, a Scotch 
 prisoner, the chamberlain of Scotland, or his lieutenant, 
 were by a writ of privy-seal, 34 Edward I., A.D. 1306, 
 directed to fit up one of the turrets of the Castle of Berwick- 
 upon-Tweed, and therein to build a strong cage of lattice 
 work, constructed with stout posts and barres, and well 
 strengthened with iron ; this cage to be so contrived, that 
 the countess might have the convenience of a privy, proper 
 care being taken that it did not lessen the security of her 
 person. In this cage the countess was to be kept, without 
 being suffered to go out on any account whatever, and also 
 to be prevented speaking with any person, Scotch or English, 
 except the keeper of llie castle, and a woman or two of the 
 town of Berwick, appointed by him to deliver her food, the 
 keeper to be answerable for the safe keeping of her body. 
 The sister of Robert Bruce was prisoner at the same time, and 
 treated in the same mannerr. (She was confined in a cage 
 built for her in a turret of Roxburgh Castle. ) 
 
 " In the directions given by Edward I., A.D. 1306, respect- 
 ing the confinement of the wife of Robert Bruce, among the 
 servants allowed is the following : — ' And also let her have 
 a foot-boy to remain in her chamber ; one that shall be sober, 
 and not a riotous one, to make her bed, and to do other 
 things required for her chamber.'" 
 
 Some of the contemporary historians state that, in order 
 to remind Lady Buchan of the cause of her confinement, 
 Edward ordered the cage to be made in the shape of a crown, 
 with gilded points. In this cage the fair prisoner was 
 confined for more than eight years.
 
 NOTES. 249 
 
 Note L. 
 
 " The sorrowing monarch /en can trace 
 The ojtiline dim of NigeV s face. 
 As, sadly bent his haughty head, 
 A prisoner from Kildrummie led." 
 
 These and the following lines of the stanza refer to Nigel 
 Bruce, the King's brother, and his gallant defence of the 
 castle of Kildrummie, which he and his brave fellow-patriots 
 defended against a powerful English army under the Earls of 
 Hereford and Lancaster for a long time. So glorious were 
 the feats of valour of the defenders of the place, so highly did 
 they trust Nigel, and so downcast by their constant defeats in 
 various sallies of the garrison were the enemy, that it is more 
 than probable the English army would have withdrawn. This 
 however, they did not do, on account of the treachery of one 
 of the garrison (said to have been a woman), who, bribed by 
 a large sum by the enemy, set fire to the magazine contain- 
 ing all the corn and other supplies, which compelled the 
 Scotch to suiTender. A vast number of the enemy were 
 slain during the long siege, which will ever reflect honour 
 on the name of the unfortunate Nigel Bruce. He appears 
 to have been a veiy beautiful young man, and is described 
 as " miles pulcherrim3ejuventutis"{" Math. Westminster," p. 
 456) and his fate excited universal pity in England, except- 
 ing in the heart of Edward, who had him conveyed to 
 Berwick, tried and condemned by a special "mock" com- 
 mission, hanged (it is said within sight of the Countess of 
 Buchan's cage) and afterwards beheaded. Other gallant 
 soldiers and knights at the same time suffered a similar fate 
 ("Scala Chronica," p. 131). Barbour, speaking of Nigel's 
 bravery says : — 
 
 " How Neill the Bruce held Kildromy, 
 He gadrj't gret chewalry." 
 
 (" The Bruce," bk. iii. v. 413.)
 
 250 NOTES. 
 
 Note M. 
 
 " There Simon Frazer waves his brand, 
 And Somerville hath sword in hand. 
 And brave De Boys hath taken stand 
 
 By Athole stotit and bold. 
 His mighty weapon Logan bore, 
 De Morham looks his armour o'er, 
 Inchmartin stands beside the shore 
 
 With Wallace, as of old!" 
 
 When the castle of Kildrummie fell, and the prisoners 
 captured there were brought to Carlisle, King Edward I. 
 was almost in a dying state, and the folk about the monarch 
 told him that the prisoners were there, and asked what was 
 to be done with them. The King, in a violent rage, but 
 grinning savagely, said, "Hang and draw!" Such was 
 his vindictiveness, although he knew he himself would not 
 live long. 
 
 Barbour thus describes this incident :— 
 
 " And quhen he to the dede wes ner, 
 
 The folk, that at Kyldromy wer, 
 
 Come with prisoneris that thai had tane, 
 
 And syne to the king ar gane. 
 
 And for to confort him thai tauld 
 
 How thai to them the castell yauld, 
 
 And how they to his will war broucht. 
 
 To do off that quhat euir he thoucht ; 
 
 And askyt quhat men suld off thaim do. 
 
 Then lukyt he angrily thaim to, 
 
 And said grynnand, " Hyngis and drawys ! " 
 
 And then those that stood around the King marvelled much 
 
 " That he, that to the dede was ner, 
 Suld answer apon sic maner." 
 
 The ghastly royal commands, however, were duly carried 
 out. The Earl of Athole, though allied to the King of 
 England, had fought with Bruce at Methven and was present
 
 NOTES. 251 
 
 at his coronation at Scone, and escaped on board ship, but 
 was driven back by a tempest and fell into Edward's hands, 
 whereat the latter expressed great exultation. Many English 
 nobles interceded for Athole, on account of the royal blood 
 in his veins, but Edward swore that the only difference in his 
 execution should be that his gallows should be loftier than 
 those of his fellow traitors I No empty threat was Edward's : 
 for Athole, on being conveyed to London, was tried at West- 
 minster Hall, condemned, as a matter of course, and hanged 
 upon a gallows of fifty feet in height. Having been then 
 barbarously cut down when but half dead, his bowels were 
 taken out by his executioners and burnt before his very face. 
 The patriot was next beheaded, and the head placed upon 
 London Bridge, beside those of other knights and patriots. 
 ("Math. Westminster," p. 456, Tytler's "Hist. Scot.") 
 
 Sir Simon Frazer, who was remarkably popular hi Scot- 
 land, being one of the last surviving followers of the great 
 Wallace, was free for a long time, but at length was routed 
 near Stirling and taken to London very heavily ironed, his 
 legs tied beneath his horse's belly, and as he passed through 
 the city, the crowds loudly derided him and placed a garland 
 of periwinkle, in mockery upon his head. He was then 
 incarcerated in the Tower, and with him were Thomas de 
 Boys, and Sir Herbert de Morham, a Scottish knight of 
 French extraction. Poor Frazer, having been condemned, 
 was executed with more than usual barbarity, owing to the 
 part he had played in W^allace's fight for freedom. He was 
 hung, cut down while living, his entrails torn out and 
 burned ; his head cut off, and placed on a pole beside his 
 great chief and comrade, Wallace, on London Bridge. It 
 was considered necessary to hang the trunk in iron chains, 
 lest his friends might remove it. 
 
 Sir Herbert de Morham (not de Norham, as Lord Hailes 
 erroneously calls him), who had been imprisoned and forfeited 
 in 1297, but liberated under promise to serve in Edward's 
 Flemish war, was the next victim, and with him Thomas 
 de Boys. "To these victims of Edward's resentment we 
 may add the names of Sir David Inchmartin, Sir John de
 
 252 NOTES. 
 
 Soraerville, Sir V/alter Logan, and many others of inferior 
 note. After the disgusting details of these executions, the 
 reader will be disposed to smile at the remark of a late acute 
 historian, that the execution of the Scottish prisoners is 
 insufficient to load Edward's memory with the charge of 
 cruelty!" (Tytler, " History of Scotland," vol. i. p. 217.) The 
 fate of Wallace himself, that glorious pioneer of his country's 
 struggle for freedom, was very tragic, being most treacherously 
 betrayed to the English by Sir John iSIenteith, a name for 
 ever disgraced among succeeding generations of his country- 
 men. Wallace, "suspecting no evil, was fraudulently and 
 treacherously seized at Glasgow by Lord John de Menteith." 
 (Bower, " Scotichron," xii. 8.) Great was Edward's joy when 
 he learned of the success of the base and treacherous Menteith. 
 The gallant patriot was seized while in his bed, by Menteith, 
 who is stated to have obtained all the information he required 
 from a servant who waited on Wallace. Having been car- 
 ried to London, he was treated with the most refined cruelty 
 by Edward, and, indeed, were not the facts narrated by the 
 English as well as by the Scotch historians, we could 
 scarcely credit such barbarity. He was brought with much 
 pomp to Westminster Hall, and there arraigned of treason. 
 A crown of laurel, in mockery placed, was on his head, 
 because Wallace had been heard to boast that, he deserved to 
 wear a crown in that hall ! Sir Peter Mallorie, the king's 
 justice, then impeached him as a traitor to the king of England 
 (Stow, " Chron. " p. 209,) as having burned the villages and 
 abbeys, stormed the castles, and slain and tortured the liege 
 subjects of his master the king. Wallace indignantly and 
 truly repelled the charge of treason, as he never had sworn 
 fealty to Edward ; but to the other articles of accusation he 
 pleaded no defence. They were notorious, and he was con- 
 demned to death. The sentence v/as can-ied out on August 
 23rd, 1305. Discrowned and chained, he was now dragged 
 at the tails of horses through the streets, to the foot of a high 
 gallows, placed at the elms in Smithfield. (Winton, vol. ii. 
 notes, p. 502.) This spot is now occupied by Cow Lane. 
 After being hanged, but not to death, he was cut down yet
 
 NO TES. 253 
 
 breathing, his bowels taken out and burnt before his face. 
 (" Math. Westminster," p. 451.) His head was then struck 
 off, and his body divided into four quarters. The head was 
 placed on a pole on London Bridge, his right arm above the 
 bridge at Newcastle, his left arm was sent to Berwick, his 
 right foot and limb to Perth, and his left quarter to Aberdeen. 
 (MS. "Chronicle of Lanercost," p. 203.) "' These, ' says 
 an old English historian, * were the trophies of their favorite 
 hero, which the Scots had now to contemplate, instead of his 
 banners and gonfanons, which they had once proudly 
 followed.' But he might have added, that they were trophies 
 more glorious than the richest banner that had ever been 
 borne before him, and if Wallace already had been the idol 
 of the people, it may well be conceived — now that the muti- 
 lated limbs of this martyr to liberty were brought amongst 
 them — how deep and inextinguishable were their feelings of 
 pity and revenge." ("Tytler," vol. i. pp. 186, 187.) 
 
 In the Harleian Manuscripts (No. 2,253, fo^- 59> ^'^• 
 Reign of Edward II.) appears a most curious "song "upon 
 the execution of Sir Simon Frazer. It has been lately (1884) 
 republished under the care of Mr. Edmund Goldsmid, 
 F.R.H.S., andforms one of the "political songs of England" 
 in his series of " Bibliotheca Curiosa." It is evidently written 
 by an English partisan. One of the "verses" sets forth 
 that :— 
 
 " Sir Edward of Caernarvon (Jesus save him and have him in regard !) 
 
 And Aymer de Valence, a gentle knight and liberal, 
 They have sworn their oath that, by the grace of God ! 
 They will deliver us from that false coimtry. 
 If they can 
 Much hath Scotland lost, 
 What latterly, and what before. 
 And little praise won ! 
 It was before St. Bartholomew's mass — that Frazer was taken ! " 
 
 * « « jf « 
 
 " Soon afterwards the tidings came to the king ; 
 They sent him to London with many an armed man ; 
 He came in at Newgate, I tell it you faithfully, 
 A garland of leaves placed 
 Oa his head of green,
 
 254 NOTES. 
 
 Because he should be known 
 Both by high and by low 
 As a traitor, I ween ! 
 Fettered were his legs, under his horse's belly, 
 Both with iron and steel manacled were his hands ; 
 
 » * » » » 
 
 " When he came to the gallows, first he was hanged. 
 Beheaded all alive, though it seemed to him long. 
 Afterwards he was opened, his bowels burnt. 
 The head to London bridge was sent 
 For disgrace ! 
 As I may ever thrive ! 
 At one time he thought 
 Little there to stand ! " 
 » * * « » 
 
 " And the body hangs fast on the gallows, 
 
 With iron clasps long to last. 
 To guard well the body, and the Scotch to drive away, 
 Four-and-twenty there are for sooth at least 
 By night. 
 If anyone were so hardy 
 The body to remove 
 
 Immediately to attack them ! " 
 
 These are quaint "verses," but characteristic of the times ; 
 and all point to the trath of the accounts of the contemporary 
 historians of these bloody executions. 
 
 Note N. 
 
 " While o'er the rocky fell resounds 
 The haying of the savage hounds 
 Whose ardour scarce tnay iron chain, 
 Held by their masters' hand, restrain." 
 
 These dogs were, as a rule, bloodhounds, generally of a 
 grey or brindled colour, and were originally of Southern 
 European breed, probably from Spain, or at all events par- 
 taking somewhat of the appearance and fierceness of the 
 Pyrrenean wolf-hound of our own times. It was the custom 
 of those who held them, whilst they pressed upon the scent 
 of a fugitive, for their masters to hold them in a leash, their
 
 NOTES. 255 
 
 speed being as a rule comparatively slow, so that men on foot 
 could keep up with them. 
 
 Note O. 
 
 " Yon villains "would betray their king. 
 And train a hound to hunt to death 
 Their monarch on his native heath." 
 
 On several occassions Robert Bruce was actually hunted 
 with bloodhounds, and, as Walter Scott says (notes to " Lord 
 of the Isles "), "The echoes of Scotland did actually 
 
 ring 
 
 With the bloodhounds that bayed for her fugitive king." 
 
 A very curious and romantic tale is told by Barbour, which 
 may be abridged as follows : — 
 
 When Bruce had again got footing in Scotland in the 
 spring of 1306, he continued to be in a very weak and pre- 
 carious condition, obliged to fly before his enemies whenever 
 they assembled in force. Upon one occasion, while he was 
 lying with a small party in the wilds of Cumnoch, in Ayrshire, 
 Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, with John of Lorn 
 and eight hundred highlanders, besides a large body of men 
 at arms, came suddenly upon him. They brought a blood- 
 hound, or " slough-dog," with them, said to have once been 
 a great favourite with Bruce himself. Bruce, having less 
 than half the number of men, divided his force into three 
 parts, and retreated by three separate routes. When John 
 of Lorn arrived at the spot, he caused the hound to be put upon 
 the trace, which immediately directed him to the pursuit of the 
 party wliich Bruce headed. The King again subdivided his 
 small body, with a like result. Lorn attaching himself ex- 
 clusively to that party followed by the hound, and which he 
 knew was commanded by Bruce. Lorn now sent five of his 
 most active attendants to intercept the King, who, on seeing 
 his enemies come up with him, said to his single attendant, 
 '• What aid wilt thou make ? " — " The best I_can," replied his
 
 256 NOTES. 
 
 foster-brother. " Then here," said Bruce, " I take my stand ! "^ 
 The King took three to himself, leaving the other two to his 
 foster-brother. He slew the first who encountered him, but 
 observing his foster-brother hard pressed, he sprung to his 
 assistance, and despatched one of his assailants. Leaving 
 him to deal with the survivor, he returned upon the other two, 
 both of whom he slew before his foster-brother had de- 
 spatched his single antagonist ! In the meanwhile Lom's 
 party approached rapidly, and the King and his foster-brother 
 betook themselves to a neighbouring wood. There they sat 
 down, for Bnice was exhausted by fatigue, until the cry of 
 the slough-hound came so near, that his foster-brother 
 entreated Bruce to provide for his safety by retreating farther. 
 "I have heard," answered the King, " that whosoever will 
 wade a bow-shot length down a running stream, shall make 
 the slough-hound lose scent. Let us try the experiment, 
 for were yon devilish hound silenced, I should care little for 
 the rest." 
 
 Lorn in the meanwhile advanced and found the bodies of 
 his slain vassals, over whom he made his moan, and 
 tlireatened the most deadly vengeance. Then he followed the 
 hound to the side of the brook, down which the King had 
 waded a great way. Here the hound was at fault, and John 
 of Lorn, after long attempting in vain to recover Bruce's 
 trace, relinquished the pursuit. (Scott.) The English his- 
 torians also agree with Barbour as to the pursuing of Bruce 
 with hounds. 
 
 Note P. 
 
 "And shmit they now, ' He may not last ! ' 
 As yet oiice more those warriors fast 
 Come spurring on the brae to gain." 
 
 Many of the people of Galloway were unfriendly to Bruce, 
 and did all that lay in their power to capture him, and deliver 
 him over to Edward, and that district was one of the very last
 
 NOTES. 257 
 
 in Scotland to acknowledge Bruce as sovereign— that is, as an 
 entire province, for there had always been a large body of 
 Gallovidians in arms with the King. On one occasion, not 
 very long after the defeat of Bruce at the battle of Dairy, the 
 fugitive king was in the wilds of Galloway (probably near 
 Loch Dee, or the neighbouring mountains of Ayrshire), with 
 only about sixty followers. 
 
 I cannot do better than transcribe the account (taken mainly 
 from Archdeacon Barbour's " Bruce ") in Scott's " Tales of a 
 Grandfather." "These Galloway men," says he, "resolved 
 to attack him by surprise, and for this purpose they got two 
 hundred men together, and brought with them two or three 
 bloodhounds." The good King Robert Bruce had received 
 some information of the intention of this party to come upon 
 him suddenly and by night. Accordingly he quartered his 
 little troop of sixty men on the side of a deep and swift-run- 
 ning river, that had very steep and rocky banks. There was 
 but one ford by which this river could be crossed in that 
 neighbourhood, and that ford was deep and narrow, so that 
 two men could scarcely get through abreast. The ground on 
 which they were to land on the side where the King was, was 
 steep, and the path which led upwards from the water's edge 
 to the top of the bank, extremely narrow and difficult. 
 
 Bruce caused his men to lie down to take some sleep, at a 
 place about half a mile distant from the river, while he him- 
 self wth two attendants* went down to watch the ford, 
 through which the enemy must needs pass before they could 
 come to the place where King Robert's men w-ere lying. He 
 stood for some time looking at the ford, and thinking how 
 easily the enemy might be kept from passing there, providing 
 it was bravely defended, when he heard at a distance the 
 baying of a hound, which was always coming nearer and 
 nearer. This was the bloodhound which was tracing the 
 King's steps to the ford where he had crossed, and the two 
 hundred Galloway men were along with the animal, and 
 guided by it. Bruce at first thought of going back to awaken 
 
 * " Barbour " says one attendant, and that was Sir Gilbert de la 
 Haye ; also "Tj^ler," vol. i. p. 223.
 
 258 NOTES. 
 
 his men ; but then he reflected that it might be only some 
 shepherd's dog. "My men," he said, "are sorely tired ; I 
 will not disturb their sleep for the yelping of a cur, till I know 
 something more of the matter. So he stood and listened, 
 and bye and bye, as the cry of the hound came nearer, he 
 began to hear a trampling of horses, and the voices of men, 
 and the ringing and clattering of armour, and then he was 
 sure that the enemy were coming to the river side. Then the 
 King thought, ' If I go back to give my men the alarm, these 
 Galloway men will get through the ford without opposition ; 
 and that would be a pity since the place is so advantageous 
 to make a defence against them.' So he looked again on the 
 steep path, and the deep river, and he thought that they gave 
 him so much advantage, that he himself could defend the 
 passage with his own hand until his men came to assist him. 
 His armour was so good and strong that he had no fear of 
 arrows, and therefore the combat was not so very unequal as 
 it would otherwise have been." (Scott.) "He instantly 
 despatched De la Haye to rouse and bring up his little force, 
 whilst he remained alone to defend the pass." (Tytler.) 
 
 " In the meanwhile the noise and trampling of the horses 
 increased ; and the moon being bright, Bruce beheld the 
 glancing arms of about two hundred men, who came down to 
 the opposite bank of the river. The men of Galloway, on 
 their part, saw but one solitary figure guarding the ford, and 
 the foremost of them plunged into the river without minding 
 him. But as they could only pass the ford one by one, the 
 Bruce, who stood high above them on the bank where they 
 were to land, killed the foremost man with a thrast of his 
 long spear, and with a second thrust stabbed the horse, which 
 fell down, kicking and plunging in its agonies, on the narrow 
 path, and so prevented the others who were following from 
 getting out of the river. Bruce had thus an opportunity of 
 dealing his blows at pleasure among them, while they could 
 not strike at him again." (Scott.) The horse, borne down 
 to the earth, and instantly stabbed, blocked up the path in 
 such a way, that the next soldier must charge over his body. 
 He, too, with many of his companions, successively, but
 
 NOTES. 259 
 
 vainly, endeavoured to carry the pass. They were met by 
 the dreadful sword of the King, which swept round on every 
 side. Numbers now fell, and formed a gliastly barrier around 
 him ; so that on the approach of liis men, the Galwegians 
 drew off, and gave up the pursuit. When the soldiers came 
 up they found Bruce wearied, but unwoundcd, and sitting on 
 a bank, where he had cast off his helmet to wipe his brow, 
 and cool himself in the night air. (" Tytler," vol. i. p. 224.) 
 Archdeacon Barbour ("Bruce," Book iv.) relates, in great 
 detail, this occurrence, and having described the fight (as 
 above), comes to the point where the King has slain several 
 of the Gallovidians, when they are evidently ashamed to be 
 held at bay by one man. 
 
 " Then said one ; ' Certes, we ar to blame. 
 Quhat sail we say quhen we cum hame, 
 Quhen a man fechtis agane us all ? 
 Quha wyst our men sa fi)ully fall 
 As us, if that we thus gat leve ? ' 
 With that all haile a schout thai geve ; 
 And cryit, ' On him ! he may nocht last.' 
 With tliat thai pressyt hyra sa fast." 
 
 And when the King's men approach to his aid, Barbour 
 observes : — 
 
 " The Gallowaymen hard thar cummyng ; 
 And fled, and durst abid no mar." 
 
 And Robert the Bruce tells his followers how God had helped 
 his hand to defeat his foes, and his men looked to see how 
 many of them 
 
 " warded ; 
 
 And thai found lying, in that sted, 
 Fourtene, that war slayne with his hand." 
 
 Other accounts also agree that fourteen was the exact 
 number of the enemy, besides horses, whom the King slew 
 on this memorable night. There is, unluckily, no precise 
 record of the river on whose banks the encounter actually 
 took place, but, as I previously observed, it was doubtless 
 somewhere in the old forest of Buchan, and I have in my
 
 26o NOTES. 
 
 mind's eye, a certain spot (where I have often hunted a pack 
 of otter hounds that I once kept in Galloway) in a river 
 which would well coincide with Barbour's description of the 
 locality. 
 
 Note Q. 
 
 " And still that massive sword and shield, 
 Which none but he can hold or wield, 
 Do glorioxis work, and win the field." 
 
 The mighty strength of King Robert was spoken of by all 
 the historians of his time. Few could carry his sword, of 
 such great weight and length was it, and none but the King 
 himself could use it with any ease. All accounts agree that 
 no man in the country was a match for him in strength and 
 in the use of the sword, excepting Sir William Wallace. 
 The battle axe was also a favourite weapon of Bruce's, he 
 having carried one at Bannockbum, which broke in his hand 
 when he slew Henry de Bohun, a gallant English knight, in 
 single combat. Bruce's two-handed sword and his helmet were 
 for long ages preserved at Clackmannan Castle, and passed 
 into possession of the Earl of Elgin and Kincardine, they 
 having been bequeathed to him, together with the family-tree, 
 by the widow of John de Bruce, a younger son of Robert, the 
 fifth lord of Annandale, and uncle to King Robert the Bruce.
 
 NOTES. 261 
 
 NOTES TO INTRODUCTION TO 
 CANTO III. 
 
 Note A. 
 
 " Or by the windings of the Cree ? 
 Or where old Ciiffel guards the sea, 
 That rolls her tide on Sohuay s sira/td, 
 Then backward hastes to Cumberland! " 
 
 The river Cree, which flows through some of the most 
 lovely scenery in Scotland, flows into Wigtown Bay a short 
 distance from the modern town of Newton-Stewart (originally 
 Newtown-Douglas). This beautiful stream possesses many 
 windings, which are described in old works by the name of 
 "The cruives of Cree." This we notice in the ancient 
 verse, alluding to the great power of the family of Kennedy 
 in the south-west of Scotland, when the Cassilis clan were all 
 dominant. 
 
 " 'Twixt Wigtown an' the toon o* Ayr, 
 
 Portpatrick an' the Cmives 0' Cree ; 
 No man need hope I'or to bide there. 
 
 Unless he court wi' Kennedie." 
 
 Criffel is a fine and picturesque mountain, on the Kirkcud- 
 brightshire side of the river Nith, and commanding a splendid 
 view of the Solway and the English mountains. 
 
 Note B. 
 
 " Or, where, ^neath woods of darkening fir, 
 By grey Dalbeattie flows the Urr." 
 
 Dalbeattie is a modem town, and standing on the pretty 
 river of Urr, has a picturesque appearance. It is famous for
 
 262 NOTES. 
 
 the excellence of its granite, which is hewn principally from 
 Craigaair quarries, and which is of a fine texture and grey in 
 colour. Various large public buildings in England have been 
 constructed of this stone, including the Thames Embankment, 
 and it is even sent abroad, a fine lighthouse on the island of 
 Ceylon being built of it. 
 
 There is an interesting, and doubtless a true, legend con- 
 nected with Bruce and the banks of the river Urr, which may 
 not be out of place here. — One morning early, when the King 
 was wandering, as was his habit, with only one or two 
 attendants, about the year 1306, he was suddenly attacked 
 near the Urr by a small party of the English under one Sir 
 Walter Selby. The combat was fierce and £till undecided, 
 and the warriors had been reduced to only three on each side, 
 when the noise reached the ears of one Dame Sprotte, the 
 spouse of Mark Sprotte, who was getting the good man's 
 breakfast ready in her cottage hard by. She came upon the 
 scene, and saw several men lying wounded, and two knights, 
 with vizors closed, contending in mortal strife. One of these 
 at length had no alternative but to yield himself to the other ; 
 and both having washed their blood-stained hands in the Urr, 
 accompanied the woman to her house. " Bring some food," 
 said the Scottish knight ; " I have tasted no food for nearly 
 two days, else Sir Walter Selby, renowned in arms as he is, 
 had not resisted Robert Bruce so long." The good dame 
 now placed a small oaken table before the King, and filled a 
 large wooden bowl (said to be still preserved by her descend- 
 ants) with the favourite breakfast at the time of Scotsmen, and 
 put one spoon beside it. " Bring another spoon," said the 
 King, "and let this gentle knight partake with me." She 
 answered, " I should be no true subject if I feasted our mortal 
 foe : I have vowed that a Southron shall never eat within my 
 door in my presence." "To reward thy loyalty," said the 
 Bruce, " I make thee lady of as much land around thy cot- 
 tage as thou canst encompass by running, whilst I take my 
 breakfast." As the King lifted the first spoon to his mouth, 
 she flew to the door, and Robert and his late antagonist laid 
 aside their helmets and took alternate spoonfuls of the hot but
 
 NOTES. 263 
 
 homely fare. After running around the hill — now called the 
 King's Mount — and encompassing the holm, the King and 
 Selby heard her thus communing with herself, as she entered 
 the house : " I shall be called the lady of the Mount, and my 
 husband shall be called the lord o'nt. We shall, nae doubt, 
 be called the Sprottes o' the Mount o' Urr, while Dalbeattie 
 wood grows, an' while Urr runs ! Our sons an' daughters 
 will be given in maiTiage to the mighty ones o' the land, an' 
 to wed one o' the Sprottes of Urr may be the toast of barons ! 
 We shall grow honoured and great, an' the tenure by which 
 our heritage will be held shall be the presenting o' butter- 
 brose in a lordly dish to the kings o' Scotland, when they 
 chance to pass the Urr !" 
 
 " On thine own tenure," said King Robert, " so loyally and 
 characteristically spoken, my heroic dame of Galloway, shall 
 the Sprottes of Urr hold their heritage ! This mount shall be 
 called the King's Mount, and when the kings of Scotland pass 
 the Urr, they shall partake of brose from King Robert Bruce's 
 bowl, and from no other, presented by the fair and loyal 
 hands of a Sprotte ! Be wise, be valiant, be loyal and faith- 
 ful, and possess this land free of paying plack or penny till 
 the name of Bruce perish in tale, in song, and in history ; and 
 so I render it to thee." 
 
 And for over five hundred years did the good dame's off- 
 spring possess the land. 
 
 Note C. 
 
 " IVhcre sweetly by the Penkill burn 
 Cumloden hides her forest bower. ^' 
 
 Cumloden is a very pretty and romantically situated cottage 
 residence of the Earls of Galloway, built close to the stream 
 of the Penkill burn. It is not very far from the ruins of 
 Garlics Castle, the original " tower of strength" of the 
 Stewarts in Bruce's time. Glorious scenery exists on every
 
 264 - NOTES. 
 
 side ; and associations of olden days, and memories of ancient 
 deeds of valour meet one at every step for miles around. 
 Penkill was anciently spelt Polkil. 
 
 Note D. 
 
 ' ' Or Castle Stccuarfs ivied side. 
 Sad relic of its former pride." 
 
 This was once the residence of the Stewarts of Castle- 
 Stewart : its walls are ivy-grown, and picturesque ; but still 
 it can be seen of what vast thickness and strength the tower 
 must once have been. It appears that Viscount Kenmure, in 
 May, 1646, had the principal "sasine" of the lands and 
 barony, and the next owner was Colonel William Stewart, 
 descended from the Stewarts of Garlics, and a valiant soldier 
 who fought under King GustaAois Adolphus of Sweden, in 
 the German wars. No doubt this person built the castle, 
 which now belongs to Mr, Stopford Blair, of Penninghame. 
 Whether or not the family of Lord Castle- Stewart had any- 
 thing to do with this castle does not appear to have been 
 satisfactorily determined. 
 
 There is one legend connected with Castle-Stewart, which 
 I think is worthy of record, and I shall repeat it in honest 
 old Andrew Symson's own words ("Description of Galloway," 
 p. 59) : — " Of this Col'onell Stewart's lady, grandmother to 
 the present (1660) Lady Castle-Stewart, I have heard a 
 strange passage, which I think fit to insert, viz., that the said 
 lady, before her husband went to the wars, one day combing 
 her hair in the sun, her sight wholly departed from her ; 
 after which her husband betook himself to the wars in 
 Germany, and was there advanced to be a Collonell, his lady 
 in the meantime remaining at home blind ; at length she 
 resolves, Vjlind as she was, to visit her husband, and taking 
 a servant with her, took shipping for Holland, from whence, 
 after a tedious journey, she came to Germany, and enquiring
 
 NOTES. 265 
 
 after the army, and among them the Scots regiments, met 
 there wiih her Iiusband, who owned and received her. The 
 lady being there, and, some say seaven years after her bhnd- 
 ness, combing her hair, some report in the sun also, yea, and 
 the same day of the month that it departed from her, her 
 sight was restored as perfectly as at the first ! And since 
 I've related a passage of the wife, I'le add a passage of the 
 husband, of the which a very judicious person assures me 
 he was an eye-witness, viz., the said Collonell Stewart, being 
 at home here in Galloway, was affected with a palsie for 
 the space of about a year and a halfe, which affected the 
 one side from head to foot, occasioned, perhaps, through 
 loss of blood in the wars j and yet he fell into a most violent 
 feaver, which affected the other side only. He recovered of 
 the feaver in a month's time or thereby, and lived near two 
 years after that, but the palsie continued till liis dying day." 
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 
 
 Note A. 
 
 " WTiere grouse from grim Muldonnoch take 
 Their rapid flight across the lake, 
 And ^77iid the purple heather rest 
 That grows upon Eschoncan's breast." 
 
 The famous loch of Trool is situated in a deep glen, on 
 either side of which rise lofty mountains, some grey with large 
 boulders of granite rocks, others green with bracken and 
 fringed below with birches and alders, and some purple 
 with heather. The hill of Muldonnoch rises above the lake 
 to the height of 1,827 feet on one side of the water ; while on 
 
 S
 
 266 NOTES. 
 
 the opposite bank is the fell of Eschoncan, or Esconchan, or 
 as it used anciently to be spelt by Blaeu, in his Atlas, by the 
 terribly jaw-breaking name of Eshsheskewackan ! This hill 
 is 1,142 feet high. 
 
 Note B. 
 
 " The bittern guards the waters' edge,"" 
 
 The bittern, which was veiy common throughout both 
 England, Ireland, and Scotland a hundred years ago, was, 
 no doubt, very common in the time of Bruce in Galloway, 
 where its deep hollow-sounding "boom " often must have re- 
 sounded from the wide-stretching marshes by those solitary 
 lakes and streams. It is now hardly ever found in Great 
 Britain, being quite a rara atis, although common in Holland 
 and other parts of the Continent. 
 
 Note C. 
 
 " Or was it distant bleat 
 
 Of shaggy goat on Craigenbae, 
 
 Calling its young to point the way" 
 
 Wild goats were numerous in those days throughout 
 Scotland, and even to the present time there are some goats 
 in a state of wildness in the mountains around Loch Dee, and 
 Trool, and especially on the farm of Craigencallie, amongst 
 whose precipices I have occasionally observed the wild goats 
 with their shaggy beards and long horns. They are very hard 
 to approach, but can sometimes be killed with the rifle. 
 Many of these so-called "wild goats" were originally tame, 
 but have become shy by reason of their wild habits, and the 
 ease with which they find their sustenance, even in heavy 
 snow.
 
 NOTES. 267 
 
 Note D. 
 
 " Or perhaps that sound he heard on high 
 Was but the gyre-carling's cry." 
 
 The g}'re-carling, or carlin, was the old name for the gyr 
 falcon, once fairly numerous in Scotland, and still common in 
 Norway. Its cry was supposed to be like that said to be made 
 by witches ; hence the name of the Carlins' cairn, applied to 
 one of the lofty mountains composing the range of the Kells, 
 in the forest of Buchan, and to which a witch-wife, or carlin, 
 was supposed to resort. 
 
 According to Dr. Leyden, the gyre-carling is the name 
 used by the Scottish peasantry for Hecate, or the "Mother- 
 witch," sometimes also identified with the "queen of the 
 fairies," or the "great hag." (Lang's "Ancient Pop. 
 Poetiy.") 
 
 Note E. 
 
 " Mayhap the lordly elk is dashing 
 The forest through, and grimly crashing 
 His angry zuay through briar and brake. " 
 
 This grand deer is also extinct in Scotland, as it is in 
 Ireland, where it was once so common. Large horns and 
 skulls of immense size have often been dug up both in the 
 bogs of Scotland and Ireland, but more often in the latter 
 country, especially in counties Kilkenny, Waterford, and 
 Limerick, from the latter of which I possess some very fine 
 horns and skulls, which must have reached to a span of from 
 five to six feet from tip to tip of the horns, when the creature 
 was alive. And many of a far greater size have been found. 
 
 Note F. 
 
 " The witch-ivife of Loch Ochiltree." 
 
 The belief in witches, dwarfs who could do deadly harm, 
 wizards, and fairies, was universal in Scotland up to a %'ery
 
 26S NOTES. 
 
 late period, and doubtless in the time of Bruce was very pre- 
 valent. This is, of course, an imaginary individual, but 
 Barbour tells us that an old woman, dressed as a beggar, was 
 actually sent by the Earl of Pembroke up the Glen of Trool, 
 to find out from Bruce the number of his men, and, under 
 pretence of asking charity, to get all information possible, 
 and return to tell the news to the English. 
 
 " The woman has he sene alswyth. 
 
 He saw her uncouth and for thy, 
 
 He beheld her mar encrely ; 
 
 And by her countenance hym thocht 
 
 That for gud cummyn was sche nocht. 
 
 Then gert he men in by her ta, 
 
 And sche, that dred men suld her sta, 
 
 Tauld how that Schye Amery, 
 
 With the ClyfFurd in cumpany, 
 
 With the flour of Northumberland 
 
 Waar cummand on thaim at thair hand. 
 
 Barbour's Bruce. 
 
 Note G. 
 
 " Three hundred mighty granite blocks 
 Are loosened from their parent rocks. 
 With stalwart arms and iron bars 
 They toil beneath the twinkling stars. " 
 
 The encounter at Glentrool has, to my mind, ever formed 
 one of the wildest and most romantic, as well as exciting, of 
 all the deeds of Bruce. It seems, however, to have been to 
 some extent overlooked by the historians, and although all of 
 them do allude to it, they pass it over by merely stating that 
 some 1,500 men of the southern forces, under the Earl of 
 Pembroke, Lord Clifford, and Vane, were completely defeated 
 by the Bruce's men, who numbered but 300, or rather less. 
 Any visitor to the Glen of Trool, however, on surveying the 
 ground, would not fail to see with what comparative ease this 
 gallant deed could have been done. Though some, I am fully 
 aware, have seen proper to doubt that this was the manner in 
 which the Scotch defeated Pembroke, I think one is fully
 
 NOTES. 269 
 
 justified in taking the romantic view of the way in which the 
 fight was probably waged ; and tliis I have done. Besides, it 
 is the tradition of the district itself. Tradition, then, informs 
 us that the Bruce retreated in the month of June or July, 
 1307, into the mountain fastnesses, at the head of Loch 
 Trool, a wild and lovely lake in the parish of Minnigaff. 
 Bruce, like a wary and experienced general, saw at a single 
 glance the great advantages he might reap from his present 
 position, and determined to avail himself of them to the utter- 
 most. The path that wound up the margin of the lake was 
 so narrow, that two men could not walk, much less ride, 
 abreast, while a steep hill — in several places precipitous — 
 arose from the very margin of the water, and skirted it for 
 nearly a mile. About the centre of this path the hill pushes 
 forth a precipitous abutment, called still by the inhabitants of 
 this sequestered glen the " Steps of Trool." The pathway 
 here is about twenty feet pei-pendicular above the surface of 
 the water, while the hill above is almost the same for a few 
 hundred yards, and very steep for a quarter of a mile higher. 
 It was this spot that Bruce fixed on for the scene of his 
 operations. His slender body of troops consisted of a few 
 hardy, tried veterans, who had stood by him in many a well- 
 contested field, — who had braved every vicissitude of season, 
 and suffered evei"y privation with their undaunted leader. 
 The rest were a body of half-armed and undisciplined 
 peasantry, who had been induced to join him in his hasty 
 marches through the country ; and whilst they added to his 
 numerical force, were often a drawback on his slender re- 
 sources, and even impeded the rapidity of the forced marches, 
 which his frequent defeats rendered necessary. Fully aware 
 that the English would follow, he sent his peasants up the 
 hill, with orders to loosen as many of the detached blocks of 
 granite as they were able to do during the night, and to hurl 
 them down on the enemy at a preconcerted signal, which was 
 to be three blasts on his bugle, should they attempt the pass. 
 The reversion of his little band he drew up in a strong 
 position at the head of the lake, and having completed his 
 arrangements, he took one or two of his most confidential
 
 270 NOTES. 
 
 warriors, and ascending a small eminence on the opposite side 
 of the lake, watched the success of his plans. All night his 
 friends laboured with unabated vigour, and in silence, so that, 
 by the aid of levers and crowbars, at earliest dawn, he was 
 delighted with a view of the formidable reception they had 
 prepared for his enemies. And his eye kindled with pleasure 
 at sight of the huge fragments, like the ruins of a wall, ex- 
 tending along the face of the hill for almost half a mile in 
 length, and his men on the alert, and waiting for the signal. A 
 glance down the lake showed him the English army in full 
 march up the defile : a body of choice cavalry led the van, a 
 division of heavy-armed hillmen followed to support them, 
 and the face of the hill was covered with a cloud of archers to 
 protect their flanks. Onwards they came in single files : the 
 leading horsemen had nearly reached the fatal " Step, "when, 
 hark ! a prolonged note from the bugle awakens the mountain 
 echoes, and arouses the slumbering wild-boar from his leafy 
 bed. Hark ! again it is followed by another blast, louder and 
 shriller than the first. Again it sounds, deep, loud, and 
 portentous, like the first note of the coming tempest, as it 
 hurtles through the sky ! 
 
 A moment before this, the hill lay smiling in all the soft 
 repose of a summer morning, and in another instant it seemed 
 to have been rent asunder by the surge of a volcano, and its 
 entrails tossed in shapeless masses into the dell beneath. 
 Down, down ! the dreadful avalanche descends, leaping and 
 bounding, and tearing up, and breaking down everything that 
 obstructs its fatal progress ; but woe to the predestined 
 wretches that were penned up for slaughter in the pathway 
 beneath. In vain were their screams for mercy, where no 
 mercy would be shown them. Let us not spin out a tale of 
 horror, nor gloat over the wreck of the human race ! The 
 whole of the English vanguard are said to have perished in 
 the defile, and the rest to have become so intimidated, that 
 they retired beyond the Cree, into the county of Wigtown, to 
 await a reinforcement before they resumed offensive opera- 
 tions. (Note to Symson's " Gall-oway.") 
 
 There is also a poetical account of the battle of Glentrool
 
 NOTES. 271 
 
 by one Harvey, where he makes Bnice and Douglas leave 
 Carrick, and 
 
 " To Glentrool's thick woody shades repair. 
 And now from Carlisle on the South'ron coast, 
 Pembroke, and Vanes and Clifford, lead their host. 
 Swift to Glentrool the squadrons shape their way. 
 And fifteen hundred sliields reflect the day," ifcc. &c. 
 
 Note H. 
 
 " When ye, my trusty Carrick men. 
 Shall hurl the mountain down the glen ! " 
 
 The Bruce, being Earl of Carrick, was of course of great 
 influence in that district of Ayrshire, and was held in more 
 esteem in Carrick than probably in any other part of Scotland. 
 He could not have had very many Gallovidians with him at 
 Glentrool, as doubtless the majority at all events were friends 
 of John of Lorn, and of McDowall, so it is natural to suppose 
 the monarch would place greater trust in the men who hailed 
 from his own province than in any others. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 " Reproach ^t would be upon our tiame. 
 Did we not greet the gallant Vane 
 
 IVith martial pomp and pride ! " 
 
 I am unable to give a satisfactory account of this Vane, 
 but he was no doubt a baron, or knight of Cumberland, where 
 the family of Vane still exists in the person of Sir Henry 
 Vane, of Hutton in the forest, near Penrith. He is mentioned 
 more than once by Archdeacon Barbour, but his name does 
 not appear in the list of the slain, or of the prisoners taken at 
 Bannockburn, where Clifford was killed.
 
 272 NOTES. 
 
 Note J. 
 
 " They'll hear resounding crverhead. 
 The slogatis deadly yell," 
 
 The slogan was a wild dirge played upon the bagpipes, as 
 either a lament, or as an incentive to battle. 
 
 Note K. 
 
 " Where will the bloody gift beguile 
 Our good King Edzvard's hours of pain, 
 And prove that traitors strive in vain." 
 
 Just about the time of, or rather more probably a few days 
 after, the defeat of Pembroke at Glentrool, King Edward I. 
 died at Burgh-on-the-sands, a village on the shores of the 
 Solway, whither he insisted on being taken from Carlisle, 
 though so sick and in such pain that he was unable to travel 
 more than six miles in four days. He had suffered great pain 
 during his sojourn at Carlisle ; but persuading himself that 
 the virulence of his disease was abated, he was so anxious to 
 proceed in person at once against Bruce in Galloway, that he 
 offered up in the Cathedral at Carlisle, the horse-litter on 
 which he had previously been carried, and started lor Scotland 
 on his war-horse. On the 7th of July, 1307, he breathed his 
 last, and probably the encounter of Glentrool was fought 
 much about that very date. King Edward's last request was 
 that his body might be reduced to a skeleton, by a process 
 described by Edward himself, and that it should be borne at 
 the head of his armies against the Scotch, there to remain 
 without burial until that land was entirely conquered.
 
 NOTES. 273 
 
 Note L. 
 
 *^ His fate a lesson grim shall be. 
 O'er Carlisle gate for all to see." 
 
 It was Edward's habit to place the heads of all traitors over 
 the gates of towns, and this generally either in London or in 
 the north of England, as a warning to the people. Berwick, 
 Roxburgh, Newcastle, and Carlisle were all favourite places 
 for these ghastly exhibitions. 
 
 Note M. 
 
 " 77ie horsemen two abreast march on. 
 Until the 'Steps of TrooV they 'coon." 
 
 For description of the "Steps," see note "G" to this 
 Canto. 
 
 NOTES TO INTRODUCTION TO 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 Note A. 
 
 " We^ll dream of Douglas as we leave 
 The lonely t07ver of ancient Threave." 
 
 The strength, or tower of Threave, now a remarkably 
 picturesque ruin standing on an island in the river Dee, about 
 three miles from the modern town of Castle Douglas, was once 
 an almost impregnable place ; and the entire district teems, 
 as its name points out to this day, with memories of the 
 Douglases.
 
 274 • N0 7'£S. 
 
 Not far from the town is a beautiful piece of water called 
 Carlinwark Loch, of about a hundred acres in extent, the 
 surface dotted with very picturesque islands ; the most inte- 
 resting of which goes by the name of the "Fir Island," and 
 on it may to this day be traced the remains of an iron forge, 
 which tradition — often the best historian — assigns to the time 
 of Edward I., about the year 1300, when he penetrated into 
 Galloway, and here the horses of his cavalry were shod ; and 
 at times of great drought, a road can be seen which led to this 
 island from the mainland. 
 
 The Castle of Threave is in itself a magnificent ruin ; and 
 for solitary grandeur and romantic associations, stands second 
 to none in all Scotland. Here dwelt the doughty, and often 
 cruel, Douglases, and to this fortress they retired when pressed 
 by their enemies. When held by William, the eighth Earl of 
 Douglas, in 145 1, as a Royal Castle, it is said that everything 
 about the household was conducted with regal magnificence, 
 a I'etinue of over one thousand armed men being kept in the 
 castle. Immediately over the principal gateway of Threave 
 Castle may be seen a huge block of granite, which projects 
 from the wall, and which went by the name of the ' ' Gallows 
 Knob, " or hanging stone. And in case it could be ever said 
 by Douglas' foes, that this emblem of their great power 
 wanted its "decoration " in the shape of a victim, it is stated 
 by old writers that many an unoffending servant or labourer 
 was swung up on the " Knob," when a prisoner taken in war 
 or foray was not to be got ! The Castle consists mainly of a 
 fine square tower, minus the roof, surrounded by what 
 must have been a very strong barbacan, flanked by four round 
 towers, one at each angle ; and it was probably built about 
 the beginning of the fourteenth century, on the supposed site 
 of a fortress belonging to Alan, the last native Prince of 
 Galloway. 
 
 The last fortress in Scotland which held out for the 
 Douglases against King James II., after the great rebellion 
 in 1453, was the Castle of Threave. The monarch deter- 
 mined to reduce it, and for this purpose he set out for Gallo- 
 way, in person, at the head of a large force. The army took
 
 NOTES. 275 
 
 up its position at a spot known as the "three thoms of 
 Cailinwark," and whilst preparations were made for opcninr;; 
 the siege, each of the inhabitants of Kirkcudl^right contributed 
 an iron bar for the manufacture of a monster gim, which a 
 blaclcsmith of the name of " Brawney Kim," * and his seven 
 sons, had offered to construct for the King, who was only too 
 glad to accept their proposal. The making of this extra- 
 ordinary piece of ordnance took some time, and was carried 
 on at Buchan's Croft, close to the " three thorns." It was 
 composed of a quantity of separate bars, held together by 
 hoops of iron, after the form of a cask, and its calibre was 
 19^ inches, and its weight 6\ tons. It was with the gi-catest 
 difficulty dragged by strong men and horses into a command- 
 ing position (since called Knockcannon) opposite the Castle. 
 The charge was one peck of gunpowder, and a stone ball 
 which weighed as much as a " Carsphairn cow." t Such was 
 the celebrated cannon, now known as Alons Meg, and which 
 graces the ramparts of Edinburgh Castle. The siege having 
 commenced, the monster gun was fired with such effect, that 
 it became evident that the gi-eatest terror had been caused 
 amongst the people in the Castle. The second shot went 
 right through the massive walls, and carried away the right 
 hand from the arm of the celebrated " Fair maid of Galloway," 
 as she was at table in the large banquet hall, and as her hand 
 was just raising the wine-cup to her lips. This was, of course, 
 regarded by the people as the direct manifestation of the 
 vengeance of God, because that very hand had been given in 
 marriage to two brothers, whilst the lawful wife of one of them 
 was still alive. The large garrison, in a state of terror at 
 such unheard-of artillery, at once surrendered, and so de- 
 lighted was King James, that he gave the estate of Mollance, 
 hard by, to the blacksmith, after whom (or I'ather after whose 
 land, as is the custom in Scotland) the monster gun was 
 christened. Its original name was Mollance Meg, contracted 
 in time into Mons Meg. 
 
 • Or M'Kim, or M'Min. 
 
 t Carsphairn is the most northerly parish of Kirkcudbright.
 
 276 NOTES. 
 
 In the summer of 1841, when some repairs were going on 
 at the Isle of Threave farm, a large stone ball, of a circular 
 form, was found under a heap of rubbish ; and which, besides 
 almost exactly fitting the cahbre of "Meg, "at Edinburgh, 
 lay in a direct line with the breach in the wall, and with the 
 line of fire from the mound at Knockcannon. Here, then, is 
 a charming authentication of the ancient legend. When 
 Threave Castle was being repaired, to accommodate the 
 French prisoners taken in the Peninsula, early in the present 
 century, one of the workmen discovered a gold ring of very 
 massive workmanship, and inscribed " Margaret de Douglas," 
 and probably was the very ring that was worn on the hand of 
 this fair lady when Mons' ball deprived her of it ! 
 
 Note B. 
 
 " Till Tongzidand'' s bridge is left behiiia 
 Where the first Edward's health was drunk 
 In olden titne by prior and monk.'''' 
 
 At Tongueland, * or Tongland, was in ancient times, when 
 the monasteries where scattered far and wide over Scotland, 
 the seat of a priory of friars of the order of Premontre, and 
 were brought here from Cockerland, in Lancashire. This 
 priory was built by Fergus, Lord of Galloway, in the 1 2th 
 century, and its prior and monks were always — when it suited 
 their interests — very loyal to the English monarch, and 
 especially so when Edward I. visited Galloway. The monks 
 of Dundrennan, however, and of other Galloway priories, 
 obtained large benefits in the shape of grants of land, salmon 
 fisheries, and the like, from Robert the Bruce, after the 
 battle of Bannockbum ; but previous to the peace, the monks 
 were, for the most part, in favour of England. 
 
 The well-known old poem, by Dunbar, of the ' ' Feignet 
 Friar of Tongueland," tells of how the then abbot (in 
 James IV.'s reign) was an Italian, and also a chemist and 
 
 * See Note A to Introduction to Canto I.
 
 NOTES. 277 
 
 alchemist, and how he said he could fly, which he — in the 
 presence of the King and his courtiers — attempted to do, 
 "flying "from off" the lofty battlements of Stirling Castle, 
 having attached to his legs and arms long feathers from all 
 kinds of fowls. The abbot boasted that he would fly to 
 France, where he would arrive before the ambassadors who 
 were then leaving Stirling. It is needless to say that the 
 rash abbot broke his thigh by the fall, and sank deep down 
 into a dunghill, where he was covered with filth, as his name 
 ever after was with disgrace ! 
 
 Note C. 
 
 ^' Past old Kirkcudbrighf s ivied tower, 
 ril leave thee in thy favourite bower, 
 And old thee rest, with grateful smile. 
 In sweet Saint Mary's lovely isle." 
 
 Saint Mary's Isle, the seat of the Earls of Selkirk, lies about 
 a mile to the southward of the town of Kirkcudbright ; and is, 
 in reality, a peninsula, and not an island, being joined to the 
 mainland by a narrow neck of land : it was, indeed, at no 
 very distant period completely surrounded by water. 
 
 It is a most beautiful spot, the house being embosomed in 
 lovely green woods, the gardens almost touching the sea- 
 shore ; while the screams of the herons in their nests over- 
 head, the cries of the curlews, gulls, and seafowl, take one's 
 thoughts away to the wildness of nature, at the same time the 
 great beauty of the park and woodland walks would almost 
 make one believe one was walking in a peaceful English policy. 
 The principal interest attaching to Saint Mary's Isle (so called 
 from its ancient priory dedicated to that saint), lies in the 
 legend of Paul Jones, the celebrated privateer, who, in the year 
 1778, landed on the island with the intention of carrying ofT 
 the Earl of Selkirk, who fortunately was absent in England. 
 Disappointed in his quest, in order to satisfy his men that they
 
 278 NOTES. 
 
 had not landed for nothing, he told them to demand from the 
 Countess, who was at home, what silver plate they could ob- 
 tain. Lady Selkirk delivered up all the plate that was in the 
 house, and it was conveyed to Paul Jones's vessel, that lay in the 
 ofting. Mr. Benjamin Franklin, who was at that time on a com- 
 mission to try to get the European Powers to acknowledge the 
 independence of the United States, demanded the plate from 
 Jones, and sent it back to Lord Selkirk with an apology. 
 
 John Paul was the man's real name, and he was a son of the 
 gardener at Arbigland, and was sent to school at Kirkcud- 
 bright, where there is a tradition that he had maltreated some 
 other boy, and was brought before the magistrates, who ad- 
 vised his being flogged. He then ran away to sea, quickly 
 became a master of a vessel, and on his way to Tobago, was 
 unfortunate enough to murder his mate. For fear of being 
 hung, he concealed himself at Tobago, and eventually re- 
 appeared as a privateersman on the Scottish coast. 
 
 I am indebted to the present Earl of Selkirk for the above 
 account, which is the correct story, many erroneous accounts 
 having been published at various times. Lord Selkirk in- 
 forms me that, when the plate was sent back, the tea-leaves 
 were still in the teapot ! 
 
 Note D. 
 
 " When, slo'uly, with expiring ray,^ 
 
 Amidst the Kclls the sinking sun 
 
 Its shadows o'er the mountains flung.'''' 
 
 The range of lofty hills, known as the " Kell's range," 
 embraces some of the most picturesque mountains in the 
 Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, the best view of them being 
 obtainable from Carsphairn village, where sometimes the 
 sunset effects are most beautiful. The principal hills forming 
 the Kells range are Corserine, the Carline's Cairn, Meaul, 
 Millfire, Milldown, Little Millyea, Meikle Millyea, and 
 Portmark Hill, the whole making a splendid range of rugged 
 mountains, averaging from 2,000 feet to 2,670 feet ui height.
 
 NOTES. 279 
 
 Note E. 
 " There Cairnsmore still gigantic stands." 
 
 This alludes to the lofty mountain known as Caimsmore, 
 of Carsphairn, on the Knockgray property ; and which is the 
 highest of the three mountains bearing the same name in the 
 county of Kirkcudbright. It is 2,612 feet in height, while 
 Cairnsmore of Fleet is 2,331 feet, and Cairnsmore of Dee only 
 1,616 feet higli. There exists a very ancient doggerel rhyme 
 with reference to the three Cairnsmores : — 
 
 " There's Cairnsmore of Fleet, 
 
 An' there's Cairnsmore of Dee ; 
 But Caimsmore of Carsphairn 
 Is the highest o' a' three 1 j" 
 
 Note F. 
 
 " The famous ' Black Craig 0' the Dee ' 
 That guards its streatn beneath. " 
 
 This most picturesque mountain is also called Caimsmore 
 of Dee, and is the same hill alluded to in the previous note 
 as being the smallest of the three hills. It is covered with 
 heather almost to its summit, where I have often found the 
 most beautiful crystals, and it is said agates also exist. 
 
 Note G. 
 
 " And past Dalshangan and Dundeiigh 
 Spreads softly out in fairer viexo 
 The lovely vale of Ken." 
 
 The valley of the Ken, generally known as the district of 
 the Glenkcns, is one of the most beautiful parts of the South 
 of Scotland. The Glenkens are formed of four large parishes, 
 namely, Carsphairn, Kells, Dairy, and New Galloway, and 
 some of the most pleasing, as well as the most romantic and 
 historically interesting scenery, is here to be found. The
 
 28o NOTES. 
 
 ancient castle of Dundeugh, situated below the hill of the 
 same name on the banks of the river Deugh, is now in ruins, 
 but was once a stronghold of the Gordons, a branch of the 
 family of Kenmure, and one of the owners was the deputy 
 ranger, under the Earl of Cassilis, of the forest of Buchan, 
 of which the hill of Dundeugh, or Dundeuch, formed a part. 
 It is romantically built close to the water. 
 
 Note H. 
 
 ' ' Th£7i clitnb we now grey Bennan's side, 
 And vicdj a panorama 'udde." 
 
 Bennan is a mountain, the lower slopes of which are 
 beautifully clothed with birches and fir, and which rises above 
 the loch of Ken, not far north of New Galloway station, and 
 whence a very pretty and extensive panoramic view is 
 obtained. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 " On Lcnvrans braes one fondly dreams 
 Of young Lord Lochinvar." 
 
 Sir Walter's Scott's familiar lines scarcely need repeating, 
 for they are " household words " wherever the Scotch 
 language is spoken, and Lady Heron's song in "Marmion" 
 is well known, viz. : — 
 
 " O, young Lochinvar Ls come out of the nest. 
 Through all the wide border his steed was the best ; 
 
 And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, 
 He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. 
 
 So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
 There never was knight like the young Lochinvar ! " 
 
 Lochinvar is a lake of some three miles in circumference, 
 and is about six miles distant from loch Ken. It belonged 
 to the Gordons of Lochinvar, nearly related to the Gordons 
 of Kenmure. On a lonely isle in the loch was once an old 
 castle.
 
 NOTES. 281 
 
 Note J. 
 
 " When grim Black Douglas scoured the flain, 
 And Ediuard JBnice, his charger's rein 
 
 Chcck\l by yon rocky height. 
 And as he scann'd the country o'er 
 His royal brother Edward s'lvore 
 Should o'er this lovely district reign. 
 When Scotland won her own again. " 
 
 The famous grim Lord Douglas, who always went by the 
 sol>rii/uet of the " Black " Douglas, owing to the swarthy 
 hue of his complexion, was doubtless very often in Galloway. 
 One of his greatest feats was the daring and gallant capture 
 of the strong castle of Roxburgh. It was on a shrove-night, 
 when most of the Roman Catholic garrison of the castle were 
 keeping high holiday, but their watches were as usual on the 
 ramparts, as it was known that Douglas was in the vicinity. 
 The wife of one of the English officers was sitting upon the 
 battlements that night, with her little child in her arms, and 
 whilst she was looking out over the country she happened to 
 observe in the fields below the castle, several small black 
 figures, like a herd of cattle, but apparently approaching the 
 foot of the wall. She called the sentinel's attention to the 
 fact, but he merely observed, " Pooh ! pooh ! it's only farmer 
 such-a-one's cattle : the good man is keeping a jolly shrove- 
 tide, and has forgot to shut up his bullocks in their yard ; but 
 if the Douglas come across them before morning, he is likely 
 to rue his negligence." But these creeping objects that they 
 had seen were no cattle, but Douglas and his soldiers, who 
 had covered their armour with black clothes, and were creep- 
 ing on all fours, with scaling ladders, under cover of the 
 darkness, to the castle walls. The poor lady knew nothing 
 of this danger, so began to sing to the infant, and to tell it of 
 the Douglas, for, when English children were naughty, their 
 mothers and nurses were used to tell them that the Black 
 
 T
 
 282 NOTES. 
 
 Douglas would carry them off. So the soldier's wife 
 sang :— 
 
 " Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye. 
 Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye ! 
 The Black Douglas shall not get ye ! " 
 
 " You are not so sure of that," said a voice close beside her ; 
 and she felt at the same time a heavy iron glove laid on her 
 shoulder, and when she looked round, she saw the very Black 
 Douglas she had been singing about, a tall, swarthy, strong 
 man. At the same time another Scotsman was seen ascend- 
 ing the walls, near to the sentinel. The soldier gave the 
 alarm, and rushed at the Scotsman, whose name was Simon 
 Ledehouse, with his lance ; but Simon parried the stroke, 
 and closing with the sentinel struck him a deadly blow with 
 his dagger. The rest of the Scots followed up the ladders, 
 and the castle was taken. Many of the soldiers were put to 
 death, but Douglas spared and protected the woman and 
 child. She probably made no more songs about the Black 
 Douglas ! ("Tales of a Grandfather.") 
 
 After Robert Brace's victoiy over the Earl of Buchan, near 
 Inverary, his brother Edward gained a very decisive victory 
 over John de St. John and Ingram de Umphaville, and a large 
 party of English at Craignell, near the Dee, in Galloway. 
 The engagement was a very bloody one, Edward gaining a 
 complete victoiy, and pursuing the Southrons in every 
 direction. (Kerr's " Histoiy of Scotland.") During the 
 pursuit, Edward reached the summit of the range of mountains 
 which divides the Ken from the Dee, when so delighted was 
 he with the beauty of the scene, that he declared to those 
 around him, " That beautiful country must be mine." This 
 wish was literally fulfilled, on Robert Bruce m.aking his 
 brother Edward Lord of Carrick and Galloway. The spot 
 became famous, and a large cairn, or heap, of stones was 
 raised upon it, which still goes by the name of Cairn Edward.
 
 NOTES. 283 
 
 NOTES TO CANTO IV. 
 
 Note A. 
 
 " And JCenmure's castle proudly stood 
 As guardian o'er the neighbouring wood. 
 All peaceful on a rising mound." 
 
 The ancient castle of Kenmure, as it stands at this moment 
 on the beautiful banks of Loch Ken, is not the same building 
 which existed at the period of the present poem. The castle 
 which now exists is finely placed upon a lofty mound close to 
 the head of the lake : this mound appears to be of very old 
 date, and possesses a moat. It may have possibly been a 
 stronghold of the aboriginal inhabitants, before the castle 
 was erected, but in any case, a finer site could hardly have 
 been chosen by its builders. It is not known by whom it was 
 built, although the Hon. Mrs. Bellamy-Gordon, the present 
 proprietor, has written to inform me that it is said to have 
 been built by the ancient lords of Galloway, and that it was 
 undoubtedly once the home of the Lady Devorgilla (who 
 married John Baliol, the father of the John Baliol that Ro- 
 bert Bruce fought with), who was born at Kenmure. The said 
 John Baliol himself, tradition affirms, was also born there. 
 The Lady Devorgilla built New Abbey, or Sweetheart Abbey, 
 near Dumfries, also the " old bridge " of Dumfries, and 
 endowed Baliol College at Oxford. It appears not very easy 
 to trace the origin of the Gordons, but Mrs. Bellamy-Gordon 
 tells me, "The Gordons came originally from Berwickshire, 
 and got their estates in Galloway in 1297, but did not live 
 there till Charles I.'s time." The old castle passed through 
 many stirring times, having been burnt in Mary's reign, and
 
 284 NOTES. 
 
 again by Cromwell's soldiers, and in the rebellion of 1715, 
 William, the sixth Viscount, was beheaded on Tower Hill, 
 forfeiting the estates. 
 
 Viscount Kenmure was very conspicuous as a Loyalist in 
 this great civil war, where he held command of a party of 
 horse, and it was "looked upon as not the worst point of his 
 military character, or rather discipline, that he constantly 
 carried a large cask of brandy at the head of the corps for the 
 use of his men ; which cask, says an old historian, was well 
 known to the whole army by the merry appellation of 
 Kenmure's drum." (Chambers' " Picture of Scotland," vol. i. 
 p. 266.) 
 
 The older of the two castles, that is the one probably 
 standing during Bruce's time, was built close to the loch, 
 about a mile to the southward of the present castle, and upon 
 the same bank (the western). 
 
 Note B. 
 
 " Of Douglas, Kenmure^ s latest lord.'''' 
 
 As far as I can ascertain, from inquiry and by diligent 
 research into all the ancient histories that relate to the sub- 
 ject, it seems very probable that James, Lord of Douglas, 
 possessed the Castle of Kenmure at that time, at all events, 
 which immediately preceded the battle of Bannockburn. 
 There is no doubt, in any case, that the Douglases once 
 possessed this castle, and as a grant of land in Galloway was 
 given to Lord James Douglas by Robert Bruce, it was not 
 surprising to me when I found, in two separate old volumes, 
 the statement that Douglas was lord of Kenmure at the begin- 
 ning of the fourteenth century.
 
 NOTES. 285 
 
 Note C. 
 
 " Right proudly Scotland's banner -waved 
 Upon the Castle keep. 
 
 Its folds of silver gaily braved 
 
 The wintry blast that round it 7-aved" 
 
 The Royal Banner of Scotland, in Bruce's reign, was, of 
 course, the silver cross of Saint Andrew, upon a blue ground, 
 which blue and white cross can now be seen blended in the 
 familiar " Union Jack." 
 
 Note D. 
 
 "And Edward, gay by festal board. 
 As brave in f eld with lance and swoi'd, 
 O'er Galloway and Carrick lord." 
 
 Edward Bnicc, whose intrepidity and valour had made his 
 very name a terror to his enemies, performed numerous feats 
 of valour in Galloway. It is stated by Archdeacon Barbour 
 (p. 186) that this prince took in the course of one single year, 
 no less than thirteen castles, or " strengths," in Galloway, 
 which completely reduced that part of Scotland under his 
 brother's dominion. His great gallantry, amounting often 
 to rashness, is the theme of admiration in Barbour's work over 
 and over again. As a reward for his gallant services, Robert 
 created him Lord of Galloway and Carrick. 
 
 Note E. 
 
 ^^ Oh! wearily sails the sad luce bark 
 
 As wearily as she may. 
 For she bears on board a Scottish lord. 
 
 As she sails to the west away." 
 
 The story of Robert Bruce and the spider is well known, 
 but I feel it necessary to reproduce it again in this place, as 
 a poem, having the hero as its title, would scarcely be com-
 
 286 NOTES. 
 
 plete without the legend. During the winter of 1305-06, 
 Bruce, with some few of those who were still faithful to the 
 cause of liberty, passed some months in the lonely Isle of 
 Rathlin, or Rachrin, about five miles from the mainland of 
 County Antrim, on the northern coast of Ireland. On this 
 island, now the property of Mr. Gage, there exist many 
 stories concerning the patriot king, and there is also a con- 
 siderable ruin, which goes by the name of Bruce's Castle. 
 
 One day, during that miserable winter, when his resources 
 appeared almost exhausted, his men disheartened, and when 
 all around seemed black and his prospects wretched, he 
 betook himself to a small shed, and laid his wearied body 
 down upon a handful of straw. His meditations were 
 melancholy, and he thought over his defeats in the field of 
 battle, where he had now been four times decisively beaten. 
 He had almost made up his mind to give up all hope of 
 continuing, against fortune herself as it appeared to him, the 
 glorious struggle for the independence of his beloved country ; 
 and his mind was fixed on a pilgrimage to the Hoi)' Land, 
 where he might, in some measure, expiate the murder of the 
 red Comyn, which ever preyed upon his mind. As he thus 
 lay thinking, he chanced to observe a spider which was 
 endeavouring, unsuccessfully, to swing itself on to a lofty 
 beam, where it evidently wished to fix its web. Bruce 
 amused himself for some time by watching the insect, which 
 still persisted in its difficult attempt, after having failed no 
 less than six times. It now occurred to him that he would 
 regulate his own future course on the success or failure of the 
 spider. At the next attempt, — the seventh — the little insect 
 succeeded in its plucky endeavour, and Bruce, leaping off his 
 straw (or more probably heather) pallet, swore to himself 
 that he, too, would try and try again, till he won his lost 
 kingdom, and triumphantly freed his suffering countrymen ! 
 
 Since that day — more than five hundred and fifty long years 
 ago — it has ever been deemed unfortunate for a person of the 
 name of Bruce to kill a spider ; and, indeed, the superstition 
 has extended to nearly every Scotchman, few of whom would 
 wantonly put to death one of these harmless insects.
 
 NOTES. 287 
 
 Note F. 
 
 "As he ivakeful lay, a spider grey 
 Essayed to clivib in vain" 
 
 With regard to the way in which " Bruce's spider" 
 endeavoured to gain a lofty beam, I have been compelled to 
 make use of the word climb, which I, of course, only do on 
 account of the rhyme, as a spider cannot be exactly said to 
 climb a beam, but rather to hang Ijy its thread, and to either 
 ascend by its means to the desired point, or to swing itself 
 backwards and forwards until it gains its object. I have 
 received an obliging communication on this subject, from 
 my friend, the Rev. O. Pickard Cambridge, of Bloxworth, 
 Dorset, than whom probably no living naturalist has had 
 better opportunities of studying the habits of spiders, and I 
 feel certain few scientific men know more about these insects. 
 Mr. Cambridge writes as follows: — "I observe," he says, 
 "in your 'Ballad of the Spider,' that you speak of the insect 
 as endeavouring to climb the wall, and falling to the ground, 
 after the manner, I suppose, of a wasp on a window pane ! 
 Of course, the gist of the anecdote lies in the success of the 
 spider after its repeated failures, and therefore a criticism of 
 the exact method of the insect might be thought hypercritical. 
 I have, however, always thought that the spider in question, 
 hung by its thread, was trying to swing itself to a distant 
 point, in order to fix the main-line of its snare, which would 
 be in accordance with a spider's habits, whereas no spider 
 would be detained a moment in endeavouring to climb to the 
 roof or ceiling by the wall. For, if the surface were too 
 smooth for immediate adhesion of the tarsi, a spider has the 
 means immediately at hand to gum it over with an adhesive 
 silk, and so form its own ladder as it goes. I have seen a 
 spider ascending a window pane in this way. 
 
 "When in Scotland, some years ago, I made many 
 inquiries about Robert Bruce and the spider, but, of course, 
 could not arrive at anything definite with respect to its
 
 288 NOTES. 
 
 species ; but all accounts I heard were to the effect that it 
 \\as tryiiig to swing itself from one point to another. The 
 only published account I can lay my hands upon just now is 
 in one of the Society for Promoting Chnstian Knowledge 
 volumes, which details it in the way I have mentioned. I 
 have, under these circumstances, always set Bruce's spider 
 down as one of the Epereirida, and most probably Meta 
 Menancz Scopoli, which is abundant in dark places, and in 
 old or ruinous buildings all over Scotland, and whose habit is 
 to spin a snare on a foundation line frequently fixed in the 
 manner above detailed." 
 
 Note G. 
 
 * ' ^ Neath Craigeiuallie 'vind their way, 
 Where on the hill the sunbeams play, 
 And cairns of warriors meet their sight, 
 A7id mark the scene of Raploch fight" 
 
 The peasantry in the immediate vicinity of Loch Dee, Loch 
 Trool, and the wilder parts of the northern Galloway moun- 
 tain region, were, for the most part, friendly to the cause of 
 Bioice and freedom ; and one of the most ancient and 
 interesting of the traditions relating to the love of the hum- 
 blest in Scotland for their patriot monarch is the story of 
 the Battle of Craigencallie, or, as it is also called. Moss 
 Raploch. Good old Andrew Symson, in his " Description 
 of Galloway," which, though written more than two hundred 
 years ago, is the most reliable of local histories I know 
 of, gives the account of the battle in quaint language, as 
 follows. He states that King Robert the Bruce, "being by 
 a part of the English army defeated in Carrick, fled into the 
 head of Lochdie, to a few of his broken partie, and lodging 
 in a widow's house, in Craigencallie, in the morning she, 
 observing some of his princely ornaments, suspected him to 
 be a person of eminence, and modestly asked him in the 
 morning if he was her Leidge Lord. He told her Yes, and
 
 NOTES. 289 
 
 was come to pay her a visit ; and asited her if she had any 
 sons to serve him in his distress. Her answer was that she 
 had three sons to three severall husbands ; and that, if she 
 was confirmed in the truth of his being her sovereign, they 
 should be at his service. He askt her farther, if she could 
 give him anything to eat. Her answer was that there was 
 little in the house, but a grist meal and goats' milk, which 
 should be prepared for him ; and while it was making ready 
 her three sons did appear, all lusty men. The King asked 
 them if they wou'd chcarfully engage in his service, which 
 they willingly assented to ; and when the King had done 
 eating, he asked them what weapons they had, and if they 
 could use them ; they told him they were used to none but 
 bow and arrow. So the King went out to see what was 
 become of his followers, all being beat from him but 300 
 men, who had lodged that night in a neighbouring glen, he 
 asked them if they could make use of their bows. Mclvie, 
 the eldest son, let fly an arrow at two ravens, perching upon 
 the pinnacle of a rock above the house, and shot them 
 through both their heads. At which the King smiled, saying, 
 I would not wish he aimed at him. Murdoch, the second 
 son, let fly at one upon the wing, and shot him through the 
 body, but M'Lurg, the third son, had not so good success." 
 
 Another account says :— The appointed place of meeting 
 was a farmhouse (supposed to have been Craigencallie), which 
 the King boldly entered ; the mistress of it, a generous and 
 high-spirited woman, was sitting alone, and upon seeing a 
 stranger enter she inquired his name and his business. The 
 King replied that he was a traveller proceeding through the 
 country. "All travellers," said the good woman, "are 
 welcome for the sake of one ! " 
 
 " And who is that one?" asked Robert. 
 
 " It is our own lawful sovereign, King Robert the Bruce," 
 replied she, " who is Lord of this country, and though his 
 foes have now the ascendency, yet I hope soon to see him 
 Lord and King over all Scotland ! " 
 
 "Dame, do you really love him so sincerely?" asked the 
 King.
 
 290 NOTES. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " as God is my witness ! " 
 
 " Then, it is Robert Bruce who now addresses you." 
 
 " Ah ! Sir," said she in much surprise. "Where are your 
 men, and why are you thus alone ? " 
 
 " I have none near me at this time," replied the King, 
 " therefore I must travel alone." 
 
 " This must not be the case," observed the dame, " for I 
 have three sons, gallant and faithful, and who shall be your 
 trusty sei-vants." 
 
 They were absent at the moment, but on their return, she 
 made them all promise fidelity to the King. [The rest of this 
 version then proceeds as that just quoted.] 
 
 " In the meantime the English, upon the pursuit of King 
 Robert, were encamped in Moss Raploch, a great flow* on 
 the other side of Dee. The King observing them, makes 
 the young men understand that his forces were much inferior, 
 upon which they advised the King to a stratagem, that they would 
 gather all the horses, wild and tame, in the neighbourhood, 
 with all the goats that cou'd be found, and let them be sur- 
 rounded and kept all in a body by his soldiers, in the after- 
 noon of the day, which was accordingly done. The neighing 
 of the horses, with the horns of the goats, made the English 
 at so great a distance apprehend them to be a great army, so 
 durst not venture out of their camp that night. And by the 
 break of day the King, with his small army, attacked them 
 with such fury that they fled precipitately, a great number 
 being killed ; and there is a very big stone in the centre of 
 the flow, -which is called the King's Stone to this day, to 
 which he lean'd his back while his men gathered up the 
 spoil ; [and within these thirty years (about i,6oo), there 
 were broken swords and heads of picks got in the flow, as they 
 were digging out peats.] 
 
 " The three young men followed close to him in all his wars 
 to the English in which he was so successful, that at last they 
 were all turned out of the kingdom, and marchest established 
 
 This " flow " is a bog in the parish of Kells, close to the Dee. 
 f i.e. boundaries.
 
 NOTES. 291 
 
 'twixt the two nations ; and the soldiers and officers who fol- 
 lowed him were put into possession of what lands were in the 
 English hands, according to their merite. The three brothers, 
 •who had stuck close to the King's interest, and followed him 
 thro' all dangers, being askt by the King what reward they 
 expected? answered very modestly, that they never had a 
 prospect of great things; but if his Majesty would bestow 
 upon them the thirty-pound land of the Hassock and Com- 
 lodan, they would be very thankful ; to which the King 
 cheerfully assented, and they kept it long in possession." It 
 is generally supposed that the fight at Raploch was com- 
 menced before the English army was aware of the presence 
 of the corps d'armee of horses, sheep, and goats, which the 
 three brothers drove up to the summit of the hill of Craigen- 
 callie, where they blew horns and trumpets, and beat drums, 
 ■when the enemy, in whose faces (say some of the old accounts) 
 the sun was shining, with blinding brightness, thinking a 
 large reserve was coming up to the attack, turned and fled. 
 
 The late Mr. Train, who was an excise officer at Newton- 
 Stewart, and a zealous antiquaiy, and a friend and valued 
 correspondent of Sir Walter Scott, interested himself to as- 
 certain the truth as to these royal grants of land to the widow's 
 three sons. Their descendants undoubtedly possessed the 
 lands for some centuries. Mr. Train says, however :— ' ' There 
 are no lands called Hassock in the grant made by the King. 
 The oral tradition of the country is, that Annabel, the widow, 
 solicited and received the ' bit hassock ' of land that lies be- 
 tween the bum of Palnure and the burn of Penkill. This 
 hassock of land is an isosceles triangle, the base of which runs 
 for three miles along the Cree, and the sides formed by the 
 streams of Palnure and Penkill, run five miles into the 
 country." 
 
 Murdoch, according to Symson, had that part of the grant 
 ■which contained the farm of Risk, about two miles and a 
 half from Newton-Stewart ; McKie had the Larg, near 
 Kirrouchtree ; while M'Lurg was given, for his share, 
 Machermore, about one mile below Newton-Stewart. This 
 speck of land has been the birthplace or the residence of
 
 292 NOTES. 
 
 perhaps, more distinguished individuals than any rural district 
 of a similar small extent in Scotland. Macmillan, founder 
 of that sect that bears his name, was born at Barncachla. 
 Murdoch, the last of the descendants of old Annabel, who 
 was settled in Kirrouchtree, was famed over Europe as a 
 botanist. Dr. William M'Gill, minister of Ayr, whose cele- 
 brated essay on our Saviour's death caused such a controversy 
 at the close of the last century, was educated at Minnigaff 
 school. Professor Alexander Murray, the well-known oriental 
 scholar, was born at Cowar. Patrick Heron, whose banking 
 scheme ruined so many gentlemen in the south and west of 
 Scotland, lived at Kirrouchtree, where Burns often was a 
 welcome guest. General Sir William Stewart, who saw 
 much service in the Peninsular war, possessed Comloddan, 
 all within the King's grant to Annabel. 
 
 In the flat stone which stands to this day in the middle of 
 the flow at Raploch, there is a hole, where it is said the 
 royal standard was planted during the battle. The hill and 
 farm of Craigencallie are now the property of my friend Mr. 
 James Drew, who writes to me that in his opinion, " the 
 configuration of the country near Craigencallie is in keeping 
 with the description of the battle given by tradition, and the 
 remains of the walls of an old cottage are still pointed out as 
 'the Bruce's wa'as,' the small park (or field) in which this 
 cottage formerly stood being known by the name of ' The 
 Bruce's Park.' " 
 
 A very similar ruse was used, in after years, by Bruce at 
 the great battle of Bannockburn, which may be said to have 
 almost decided that battle, and the idea of which was possibly 
 taken from Craigencallie fight. 
 
 Note H. 
 
 " Though Scottish shafts, like sheets of hail, 
 Are beating on their coats of mail. 
 Though loudly sounds the GalPway flail." 
 
 One of the most effective weapons, as one of the most 
 dreaded, appears in the days of Bruce, and for many years
 
 NOTES. 293 
 
 subsequently, to have been the famous "Galloway flail." 
 Harry the minstrel, popularly known as " Blind Harry," the 
 author of " The Wallace," describes this weapon in his poem 
 as being peculiar to Galloway ; and evidently, by the opinions 
 of other old authorities, little known elsewhere. A good 
 specimen was, a few years since, in existence in a museum in' 
 Edinburgh, the "staff" of which was some five feet in length, 
 and made of stout but very pliable wood, while its "souple " 
 {i.e. the loose top) was from three and a half to four foot long, 
 jointed with heavy iron rings in several places, to enable the 
 man who used the weapon to "double" it about an enemy's 
 shoulders with resistless force. 
 
 Note I. 
 
 " And shake the ShiltncnUs treble rank." 
 
 The military formation, or evolution, whichever it may 
 have been, and which is so often alluded to in the pages of 
 Barbour's "Bruce" and of Blind Hai-ry's "Wallace," seems 
 to have been a complete puzzle to most historians, and none 
 of them have, so far as I know, attempted to describe it. At 
 the battle of Stirling, and again at disastrous Flodden Field, 
 the Shiltrum was used, and with the worst results to the 
 Scotch, who seem to have been proud of this formation, but 
 only as a last resource in cases of dire extremity. The old 
 historian Maitland called it "the fatal ring "at the battle of 
 Flodden ; and Barbour, describing one of Bruce's engage- 
 ments, says that : — 
 
 " Horse and man 
 Round about the Shiltrum ran." 
 
 It thus appears that this formation was a circle, or rather 
 more probably a regular series of concentric circles, somewhat 
 similar to our double rank in the modern "square." The 
 square, of course, can be marched forward, or backward, or 
 in any given direction, whereas the Shiltrum, being a regular
 
 294 NOTES. 
 
 circle, could probably hardly have been able to move at all, 
 but having taken its post, had to conquer or die upon the 
 same piece of ground. 
 
 Note J. 
 
 " Where nveetly bends its graceful head, 
 That lovely fliyivcr which poets told 
 On Alouttt Parnassus grew of old." 
 
 One of the most beautiful of all wild flowers, in boggy 
 mountainous wilds, especially in the north of England and in 
 many parts of Scotland, is the grass of Parnassus {Farnassia 
 palustris), which is stated by the ancients to have grown 
 luxuriantly upon the lower slopes of Mount Parnassus, in 
 Greece, and in the bogs around its base. It is a lovely little 
 plant, from eight to ten inches in height, and has solitary 
 creamy-white flowers, delicately veined. The nectaries are 
 fan-like scales, fringed by white hairs, and ending in yellow 
 wax-like glands. 
 
 Note K. 
 
 ' ' In mello'co light before his eyes 
 Dzindrennan' s Abbey calmly lies." 
 
 Far-famed Dundrennan Abbey is one of the finest ruins in 
 the south of Scotland, lying in a peaceful glen, through which 
 flows towards the sea, which is but a short distance away, a 
 sparkling stream, and sheltered on north, east, and west by 
 gently sloping hills of gi-eennest grass, on which here and there 
 old gnarled thorn-trees stand. On the south is the Solway 
 shore. The ruins are very romantic in appearance, and are now 
 covered with a pale moss of a light greyish colour, which adds 
 to the picturesqueness of the whole place. The abbey is very 
 ancient, and according to Holinshed (" History of Scotia," 
 1577), was founded by David I., or at all events in his reign
 
 NOTES. 295 
 
 (A.D. 1 124 — 1153). Chambers, in his " Caledonia," on the 
 other hand, states that Fergus, Lord of Galloway, who was 
 by marriage allied to the throne, emulated royalty in the 
 munificence of his foundations, one of the most remarkable of 
 which was Dundrennan. 
 
 There are few finer examples in the whole of Scotland of 
 Gothic architecture than this fine abbey, which was inhabited 
 by Cistercian monks. The monks who lived here were 
 instituted in France by Robert, Abbot of Molesme, in 1098, 
 and were called also Monachi Albi, or white monks, because 
 they wore white garments with the exception of their cowl 
 and scapular, which was black, the Benedictines being entirely 
 robed in black. I know not who was abbot in Bruce's time, 
 but, at all events, immediately before Bannockburn, all the 
 clergy with but few exceptions were in his favour, and would 
 have welcomed a visit from their King. Close to the Abbey 
 is Port Mary, whence the unfortunate Queen Mary embarked 
 for England after the disaster at Langside. 
 
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