‘He stepp’d before the Monarch’s chair, And stood with rustic plainness there, And little reverence made; Nor head, nor body, bow’d nor bent, But on the desk his arm he leant, And words like these he said, In a low voice,-but never tone So thrill’d through vein, and nerve, and bone:- “My mother sent me from afar, Sir King, to warn thee not to war,- Woe waits on thine array; If war thou wilt, of woman fair, Her witching wiles and wanton snare, James Stuart, doubly warn’d, beware: God keep thee as He may!”- The wondering monarch seem’d to seek For answer, and found none; And when he raised his head to speak, The monitor was gone.The Marshal and myself had cast To stop him as he outward pass’d;But, lighter than the whirlwind’s blast, He vanish’d from our eyes, Like sunbeam on the billow cast, That glances but, and dies.’
XVIII.
While Lindesay told his marvel strange, The twilight was so pale, He mark’d not Marmion’s colour change, While listening to the tale: But, after a suspended pause, The Baron spoke:-‘Of Nature’s laws So strong I held the force, That never superhuman cause Could e’er control their course;And, three days since, had judged your aim Was but to make your guest your game.But I have seen, since past the Tweed, What much has changed my sceptic creed, And made me credit aught.’-He staid, And seem’d to wish his words unsaid:But, by that strong emotion press’d, Which prompts us to unload our breast, Even when discovery’s pain, To Lindesay did at length unfold The tale his village host had told, At Gifford, to his train.Nought of the Palmer says he there, And nought of Constance, or of Clare; The thoughts, which broke his sleep, he seems To mention but as feverish dreams.
XIX.
‘In vain,’ said he, ‘to rest I spread My burning limbs, and couch’d my head: Fantastic thoughts return’d; And, by their wild dominion led, My heart within me burn’d.
