The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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King Edward's Dream.
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
King Edward's Dream.
THE FIFTEENTH BARD'S SONG.
The heath-cock had whirred at the break of the morn,
The moon of her tassels of silver was shorn,
When hoary King Edward lay tossing in ire,
His blood in a ferment, his bosom on fire:
His battle-files, stretched o'er the valley, were still
As Eden's pine forests that darkened the hill.
The moon of her tassels of silver was shorn,
When hoary King Edward lay tossing in ire,
His blood in a ferment, his bosom on fire:
His battle-files, stretched o'er the valley, were still
As Eden's pine forests that darkened the hill.
He slept—but his visions were loathly and grim;
How quivered his lip! and how quaked every limb!
His dull-moving eye showed how troubled his rest,
And deep were the throbs of his labouring breast.
How quivered his lip! and how quaked every limb!
His dull-moving eye showed how troubled his rest,
And deep were the throbs of his labouring breast.
He saw the Scot's banner red streaming on high;
The fierce Scottish warriors determined and nigh;
Their columns of steel, and, bright gleaming before,
The lance, the broad target, and Highland claymore.
And, lo! at their head, in stern glory appeared
That hero of heroes so hated and feared;
'Twas the exile of Rachrin that led the array,
And Wallace's spirit was pointing the way:
His eye was a torch, beaming ruin and wrath,
And graved on his helmet was—Vengeance or Death!
The fierce Scottish warriors determined and nigh;
Their columns of steel, and, bright gleaming before,
The lance, the broad target, and Highland claymore.
And, lo! at their head, in stern glory appeared
That hero of heroes so hated and feared;
'Twas the exile of Rachrin that led the array,
And Wallace's spirit was pointing the way:
His eye was a torch, beaming ruin and wrath,
And graved on his helmet was—Vengeance or Death!
In far Ethiopia's desert domain,
Where whirlwinds new mountains up-pile on the plain,
Their crested brown billows, fierce curling on high,
O'ershadow the sun, and are tossed to the sky;
But, meeting each other, they burst and recoil,
Mix, thunder, and sink, with a reeling turmoil:
As dreadful the onset that Edward beheld,
As fast his brave legions were heaped on the field.
Where whirlwinds new mountains up-pile on the plain,
Their crested brown billows, fierce curling on high,
O'ershadow the sun, and are tossed to the sky;
But, meeting each other, they burst and recoil,
Mix, thunder, and sink, with a reeling turmoil:
As dreadful the onset that Edward beheld,
As fast his brave legions were heaped on the field.
The plaided blue Highlander, swift as the wind,
Spread terror before him, and ruin behind:
Thick clouds of blood-vapour brood over the slain,
And Pembroke and Howard are stretched on the plain.
Spread terror before him, and ruin behind:
Thick clouds of blood-vapour brood over the slain,
And Pembroke and Howard are stretched on the plain.
The chieftain he hated, all covered with blood,
Still nearer and nearer approached where he stood;
He could not retreat, and no succour was near—
“Die, scorpion!” he cried, and pursued his career.
The king felt the iron retreat from the wound,
No hand to uphold him, he sunk on the ground:
His spirit, escaped on the wings of the wind,
Left terror, confusion, and carnage behind,
Till on the green Pentland he thought he sat lone,
And pondered on troubles and times that were gone.
Still nearer and nearer approached where he stood;
He could not retreat, and no succour was near—
“Die, scorpion!” he cried, and pursued his career.
The king felt the iron retreat from the wound,
No hand to uphold him, he sunk on the ground:
His spirit, escaped on the wings of the wind,
Left terror, confusion, and carnage behind,
Till on the green Pentland he thought he sat lone,
And pondered on troubles and times that were gone.
He looked over meadow, broad river, and downe,
From Ochil's fair mountains to Lammermore brown;
He still found his heart and desires were the same;
He wished to leave Scotland nor sceptre nor name.
From Ochil's fair mountains to Lammermore brown;
He still found his heart and desires were the same;
He wished to leave Scotland nor sceptre nor name.
He thought as he lay on the green mountain thyme,
A spirit approached him in manner sublime:
At first she appeared like a streamer of light,
But still, as she neared, she was formed to his sight.
Her robe was the blue silken veil of the sky,
The drop of the amethyst deepened its dye;
Her crown was a helmet, emblazoned with pearl;
Her mantle the sunbeam, her bracelets the beryl;
Her hands and her feet like the bright burning levin;
Her face was the face of an angel from heaven:
Around her the winds and the echoes grew still,
And rainbows were formed in the cloud of the hill.
A spirit approached him in manner sublime:
At first she appeared like a streamer of light,
But still, as she neared, she was formed to his sight.
Her robe was the blue silken veil of the sky,
The drop of the amethyst deepened its dye;
Her crown was a helmet, emblazoned with pearl;
Her mantle the sunbeam, her bracelets the beryl;
Her hands and her feet like the bright burning levin;
Her face was the face of an angel from heaven:
Around her the winds and the echoes grew still,
And rainbows were formed in the cloud of the hill.
Like music that floats o'er the soft heaving deep,
When twilight has lulled all the breezes asleep,
The wild fairy airs in our forests that rung,
Or hymn of the sky by a seraph when sung;
So sweet were the tones on the fancy that broke,
When the Guardian of Scotland's proud mountains thus spoke:—
When twilight has lulled all the breezes asleep,
The wild fairy airs in our forests that rung,
Or hymn of the sky by a seraph when sung;
So sweet were the tones on the fancy that broke,
When the Guardian of Scotland's proud mountains thus spoke:—
46
“What boots, mighty Edward, thy victories won?
'Tis over—thy sand of existence is run;
Thy laurels are faded, dispersed in the blast;
Thy soul from the bar of Omnipotence cast,
To wander bewildered o'er mountain and plain,
O'er lands thou hast steeped with the blood of the slain.
'Tis over—thy sand of existence is run;
Thy laurels are faded, dispersed in the blast;
Thy soul from the bar of Omnipotence cast,
To wander bewildered o'er mountain and plain,
O'er lands thou hast steeped with the blood of the slain.
“I heard of thy guerdon, I heard it on high:
Thou'rt doomed on these mountains to linger and lie,
The mark of the tempest, the sport of the wind—
The tempest of conscience, the storm of the mind—
Till people thou'st hated, and sworn to subdue,
Triumphant from bondage shall burst in thy view,
Their sceptre and liberty bravely regain,
And climb to renown over mountains of slain.
Thou'rt doomed on these mountains to linger and lie,
The mark of the tempest, the sport of the wind—
The tempest of conscience, the storm of the mind—
Till people thou'st hated, and sworn to subdue,
Triumphant from bondage shall burst in thy view,
Their sceptre and liberty bravely regain,
And climb to renown over mountains of slain.
“I thought (and I joined my endeavours to thine),
The time was arrived when the two should combine;
For 'tis known that they will 'mong the hosts of the sky,
And we thought that blest era of concord was nigh.
But ages unborn yet shall flit on the wing,
And Scotland to England ere then give a king;
A father to monarchs, whose flourishing sway
The ocean and ends of the earth shall obey.
The time was arrived when the two should combine;
For 'tis known that they will 'mong the hosts of the sky,
And we thought that blest era of concord was nigh.
But ages unborn yet shall flit on the wing,
And Scotland to England ere then give a king;
A father to monarchs, whose flourishing sway
The ocean and ends of the earth shall obey.
“See yon little hamlet o'ershadowed with smoke,
See yon hoary battlement throned on the rock,
Even there shall a city in splendour break forth,
The haughty Dunedin, the Queen of the North;
There learning shall flourish, and liberty smile,
The awe of the world, and the pride of the isle.
See yon hoary battlement throned on the rock,
Even there shall a city in splendour break forth,
The haughty Dunedin, the Queen of the North;
There learning shall flourish, and liberty smile,
The awe of the world, and the pride of the isle.
“But thy lonely spirit shall roam in dismay,
And weep o'er thy labours so soon to decay.
In yon western plain, where thy power overthrew
The bulwarks of Caledon, valiant and few;
Where beamed the red falchion of ravage and wrath;
Where tyranny, horsed on the dragons of death,
Rode ruthless through blood of the honoured and just,
When Græme and brave Stuart lay bleeding in dust—
The wailings of liberty pierced the sky;
The Eternal, in pity, averted his eye!
And weep o'er thy labours so soon to decay.
In yon western plain, where thy power overthrew
The bulwarks of Caledon, valiant and few;
Where beamed the red falchion of ravage and wrath;
Where tyranny, horsed on the dragons of death,
Rode ruthless through blood of the honoured and just,
When Græme and brave Stuart lay bleeding in dust—
The wailings of liberty pierced the sky;
The Eternal, in pity, averted his eye!
“Even there the dread power of thy nations combined,
Proud England, green Erin, and Normandy joined,
Exulting in numbers, and dreadful array,
Led on by Carnarvon, to Scotland away,
As thick as the snow-flakes that pour from the pole,
Or silver-maned waves on the ocean that roll:
By a handful of heroes, all desperate driven,
Impelled by the might and the vengeance of Heaven—
By them shall these legions be all overborne,
And melt from the field like the mist of the morn.
The Thistle shall rear her rough front to the sky,
And the Rose and the Shamrock at Carron shall die.
Proud England, green Erin, and Normandy joined,
Exulting in numbers, and dreadful array,
Led on by Carnarvon, to Scotland away,
As thick as the snow-flakes that pour from the pole,
Or silver-maned waves on the ocean that roll:
By a handful of heroes, all desperate driven,
Impelled by the might and the vengeance of Heaven—
By them shall these legions be all overborne,
And melt from the field like the mist of the morn.
The Thistle shall rear her rough front to the sky,
And the Rose and the Shamrock at Carron shall die.
“How couldst thou imagine those spirits of flame
Would stoop to oppression, to slavery, and shame?
Ah! never; the lion may couch to thy sway,
The mighty leviathan bend and obey;
But the Scots, round their king and broad banner unfurled,
Their mountains will keep against thee and the world.”
Would stoop to oppression, to slavery, and shame?
Ah! never; the lion may couch to thy sway,
The mighty leviathan bend and obey;
But the Scots, round their king and broad banner unfurled,
Their mountains will keep against thee and the world.”
King Edward awoke with a groan and a start,
The vision was vanished, but not from his heart!
His courage was high, but his vigour was gone;
He cursed the Scots nation, and bade them lead on.
His legions moved on like a cloud of the west;
But fierce was the fever that boiled in his breast:
On sand of the Solway they rested his bed,
Where the soul of the king and the warrior fled.
He heard not the sound of the evening curfew;
But the whisper that died on his tongue was—“Subdue!”
The vision was vanished, but not from his heart!
His courage was high, but his vigour was gone;
He cursed the Scots nation, and bade them lead on.
His legions moved on like a cloud of the west;
But fierce was the fever that boiled in his breast:
On sand of the Solway they rested his bed,
Where the soul of the king and the warrior fled.
He heard not the sound of the evening curfew;
But the whisper that died on his tongue was—“Subdue!”
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |