The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott ... Notes & life of the author.

498 ROKEBY. CANTO VI.
Hlow he was wounded by the way
I need not, and I list not say.'
XVL
"' A wond'rous talel and, grant it true,
What, * Wycliffe answer'd,'might I do?
Heav'n knows, as willingly as now
I raise the bonnet from my brow,
Would I my kinsman's manors fair,
Restore to Mortham or his heir;
But Mortham is distraught-O'Neale
Has drawn for tyranny his steel,
Malignant to our rightful cause,
And train'd in Rome's delusive laws.
Hark thee apartl'-They whisper'd long
TillDenzil's voice grew bold aud strong. —'My proofsi I never will,' he said,'Show mortal man where they are laidl
Nor hope discovery to foreclose,
By giving me to feed the crows;
For I have mates at large, who know
Where I am wont such toys to stow.
Free me from peril and from band,
These tablets are at thy command;
Nor were it hard to form some train,
To wile old Mortham o'er the main.
Then, lunatic's nor papist's hand
Should wrest from thine the goodly land.'-' I like thy wit,' said Wycliffe,'well;
But here in hostage shall thou dwell.
Thy son, unless thy purpose err,
May prove the trustier messenger.
A scroll to Mortham shall he bear
From me, and fetch these tokens rare.
Gold shalt thou have, and that good stord,
And freedom, his commission o'er;
But if his faith should chance to fail,
The gibbet frees thee from the jail'
XVIL' Mesh'd in the net himself had twin'd,
What subterfuge could Denzil find?
He told me, with reluctant sigh,
That hidden here the tokens lie;
Conjur'd my swift return and aid,
By all he scoff'd and disobey'd,