gallant fidelity weariness mischief
trusty faithful sentinels mentioned
It was now near night, and the place of meeting being a farmhouse, Bruce
went boldly into it, where he found the mistress, an old, true-hearted
Scotswoman, sitting alone. Upon seeing a stranger enter, she asked him
who he was. The king answered that he was a traveler, who was journeying
through the country.
“All travelers,” answered the good woman, “are welcome here for the sake
of one.”
“And who is that one,” said the king, “for whose sake you make all
travelers welcome?”
“It is our rightful king, Robert the Bruce,” answered the mistress, “who
is the lawful lord of this country; and although he is now pursued with
hounds and horns, I hope to live to see him king over all Scotland.”
“Since you love him so well, dame,” said the king, “know that you see him
before you. I am Robert the Bruce.”
“You!” said the good woman, “and wherefore are you thus alone?--where are
all your men?”
“I have none with me at this moment,” answered Bruce, “and therefore I
must travel alone.”
“But that shall not be,” said the brave old dame; “for I have two sons,
gallant and trusty men, who shall be your servants for life and death.”
So she brought her two sons, and though she well knew the dangers to which
she exposed them, she made them swear fidelity to the king; and they
afterward became high officers in his service.
Now the loyal old woman was getting everything ready for the king’s
supper, when suddenly there was a great trampling of horses heard round
the house. They thought it must be some of the English, or John of Lorn’s
men, and the good wife called upon her sons to fight to the last for King
Robert. But shortly after they heard the voice of the good Lord James of
Douglas, and of Edward Bruce, the king’s brother, who had come with a
hundred and fifty horsemen to this farmhouse.
Robert the Bruce, forgetting hunger and weariness, began to inquire where
the enemy who had pursued them so long had taken up their abode for the
night; “for,” said he, “as they must suppose us totally scattered and
fled, it is likely that they will think themselves quite secure, and keep
careless watch.”
“That is very true,” answered James of Douglas, “for I passed a village
where there are two hundred of them quartered, who had placed no
sentinels; and if you have a mind, we may surprise them, and do them more
mischief than they have done us.”
Then there was nothing but mount and ride; and as the Scots came by
surprise on the body of English whom Douglas had mentioned, and rushed
suddenly into the village where they were quartered, they easily dispersed
and cut them to pieces.
--SIR WALTER SCOTT.
“WHEN EVENING SHADES ARE FALLING”
When evening shades are falling
O’er ocean’s sunny sleep,
To pilgrims’ hearts recalling
Their home beyond the deep;
When rest, o’er all descending,
The shores with gladness smile,
And lutes, their echoes blending,
Are heard from isle to isle:
Then, Mary, Star of the Sea,
We pray, we pray, to thee.
The noonday tempest over
Now ocean toils no more,
And wings of halcyons hover,
Where all was strife before;
Oh, thus may life, in closing
Its short tempestuous day,
Beneath heaven’s smile reposing,
Shine all its storms away:
Thus, Mary, Star of the Sea,
We pray, we pray, to thee.
--THOMAS MOORE.