Bothwell A Poem In Six Parts: By William Edmondstoune Aytoun: Third Edition, Revised |
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| 3. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
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| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. | XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
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 | Bothwell |  |
XV.
I passed beyond the city wall;No light there was in hut or bield,
I scarce could find the narrow lane
That led me to the Kirk-of-Field.
Three men were speeding from the door;
They ran against me in the way—
“Who's that?” “'Tis I!” “Lord Bothwell? Back,
Back, back—my Lord! make no delay!
The doors are locked, the match is lit—
A moment more, and all is done—
Let's 'void the ground!” “He sleeps then sound?”
“Within that house shall waken none!”
Shortly we paused. I strained my sight
To trace the outline of the pile;
But neither moon nor stars gave light,
And so we waited for a while.
| Bothwell | |