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

530 CADYOW CASTLE.
And, reeking from the recent deed,
He dash'd his carbine on the ground.
Sternly he spoke-"'Tis sweet to hear,
In good green wood the bugle blown;
But sweeter to Revenge's ear,
To drink a tyrant's dying groan.
"Your slaughter'd quarry proudly trode,
At dawning morn, o'er dale and down,
But prouder base-born Murray rode
Through old Linlithgow's crowded town.
"From the wild Border's humbled side,
In haughty triumph, marched he,
While Knox relax'd his bigot pride,
And smil'd, the trait'rous pomp to see.
"But, can stern Pow'r, with all his vaunt,
Or Pomp, with all her courtly glare,
The settled heart of Vengeance daunt,
Or change the purpose of Despair?
"With hackbut bent, my secret stand
Dark as the purpos'd deed, I chose,
And mark'd, where, mingling in his band,
Troop'd Scottish pikes and English bowv.
"Dark Morton, girt with many a spear,
Murder's foul minion, led the van;
And clash'd their broad-swords in the rear,
The wild Macfarlanes' plaided clan.
"Glencairn and stout Parkhead were nigh,
Obsequious at their Regent's rein,
And haggard Lindesay's iron eye,
That saw fair Mary weep in vain.
"Mid pennon'd spears, a steely grove,
Proud Murray's plumage floated high;
Ecarce could his trampling charger move,
So close the minions crowded nigh.
"From the rais'd visor's shade, his eye,
Dark rolling, glanc'd the ranks along,
And his steel truncheon, wav'd on high,
Seem'd marshalling the iron throng.
" But yet his sadden'd brow confess'd
A passing shade of doubt and awe;
Some fiend was whisp'ring in his breast,'Beware of injur'd Bothwellhaughl'