Classic Poem

A FRAGMENT OF BRUCE, BOOK II .

" Demand'st thou, mighty Bruce, to know from whence
My lineage I derive; then hear a tale
Well known through fair Stirlina's fruitful bounds,
My native land; of ancient Scotish Kings,
Thy royal ancestry, O Bruce! am I
Undoubted offspring; and, forgive the boast,
From the same fount my blood united flows,
Allied to thine. As yet Cameldoun's walls
By Forth, delightful stream! encircled stood
The seat of Edenuther, Pictish King;
To whose destruction, eager to revenge
The breach of faith and hospitable laws
Insulted; his embattled host
Fierce Corbred led; for from Dunstaffnage towers,
Pretending love, and hymeneal rite.
The treacherous Pict with meditated force,
Bore Ethelind, her country's justest pride,
Peerless and fair; a thousand heroes fought
For her to death, fierce raging round the walls
Of lofty Cameldoun: the guilty prince
Had dearly paid the price of faith forsworn,
But, studious of new frauds, within his walls
He' invites the Scotish train, friendly to meet
In amicable talk; fair Ethelind
To be the pledge of future peace, and join
The warring nations, in eternal league
Of love connubial: the unweeting King
Enter'd the hostile gates; with feast and song
The towers resound, till the dark midnight hour
Awake the murderers: in sleep he fell
With all his peers, in early life, and left
His vow'd revenge, and sister unredeem'd.
" Now was the royal virgin left expos'd
To the fell victor's lust, no friend to aid,
Her brother slain, and fierce and mighty Chiefs
That warr'd in her defence: how could, alas!
Unshelter'd helpless Innocence resist
The infernal ravisher? with stedfast mind
She scorn'd his proffer'd love; by virtue's aid
Triumphant o'er his lust. In vain with tears
And rough complaint that spoke a savage heart,
Strove he to gain and woo her to his will:
In vain, enrag'd and ruthless in his love,
He threaten'd. Death disdain'd, force was the last,
But that her arm oppos'd, resolv'd to strike
The poniard in her breast, her virtue's guard.
All arts thus tried in vain, at last incens'd
Deep in a dungeon, from the cheerful light
Far, far remov'd, the wretched maid he threw
Deplorable; doom'd in that dwelling drear
To waste her anxious days and sleepless nights,
Anguish extreme! ah, how unlike those hours
That in her father's palace wont to pass
In festival and dance. Her piteous shrieks
Mov'd her stern keeper's heart, secret he frees
The' imprison'd maid; and to the king relates
Her death, dissembling. Then with fell despite
And rage, inflam'd for unenjoyed love,
The Monarch storm'd, he loath'd his food, and fled
All human converse, frustrate of his will.
" Meanwhile the nymph forsakes the hostile walls
Flying by night; through pathless wilds unknown.
Guideless she wanders, in her frighted ears
Still hears the tyrant's voice, in fancy views
His form terrific, and his dreaded front
Severe in frowns; her tender heart is vex'd
With every fear, and oft desires to die.
Now day return'd, and cheerful light began
To' adorn the Heav'ns; lost in the hills she knew
No certain path; around the dreary waste
Sending her weeping eye, in vain requir'd
Her native fields, Dunstaffnage' well-known tow'rs.
And high Edesta's walls, her father's reign.
" Three days the royal wanderer bore the heat
Intensely fervent, and three lonesome nights
Wet with the chilling dews; the forest oak
Supplied her food, and at the running stream,
Patient, she slak'd her thirst. But when the fourth
Arose; descending from the Ochell height,
The flowery fields beneath, she wander'd long
Erroneous, disconsolate, forlorn.
Jerne's stream she pass'd, a rising hill
Stood on the bank oppos'd, adorn'd with trees,
A silvan scene! thither she bent her flight,
O'ercome with toil, and gently laid her down
In the embowering shade: the dew of sleep
Fell on her weary eyes; then pleasing dreams
Began to lay the tempest in her mind,
Calming from troubled thoughts: to regal pomp
She seems restor'd, her brother's fate reveng'd,
The tyrant slain: she dream'd till morn arose,
The fifth that rose, since from Cameldoun's walls
She bent her flight; the cheerful day invites,
From fair Dundalgan's ever-sunny towers,
Mildred to' arise, who oft in fields of death
Victorious, led the Picts embattled race,
Illustrious Chief! he to the hilly height,
His morning walk, pleas'd with the season fair,
Betakes him musing, there it was he saw
Fair Ethelind, surpriz'd as Hengist's son
Elfred asleep beheld, when as she fled
From Saxony, to shun a step-dame's rage
That sought her life, he with prevailing words
Woo'd the consenting maid: nor less amaz'd
The Pictish leader saw the beauteous form,
Fixt in surprise, and ardent gaze, he stood
Wondering! his beating heart with joy o'erflow'd.
He led her blushing from the sacred grove
In bashful modesty, and doubting joy
Chastis'd with fear, alternate in her breast,
Poor lovely mourner! to his parents show'd
The beauteous stranger; they, in age rever'd,
Lift up their trembling hands, and blest the maid,
Best workmanship of Heaven! the youthful Chief
Transported every day his guest beheld,
And every day beheld with new delight,
Her winning graces mild, and form divine,
That drew with soft attraction, kindling love,
Enflam'd his soul: still new delays he frames
To gain a longer stay, ere he restore
The beauteous exile to her native land,
His promis'd faith. The story of her woes,
He o'er and o'er demands; she pleas'd relates
Her past adventures sad, but, prudent, kept
Unknown her royal race; the ardent youth
Hangs on the speaker's lips, still more and more
Enamour'd of her charms, by courtly deed
He sought the virgin's love; by prayers and vows
Won to consent. The nuptial day arose,
Awak'd by music's sound; the Pow'rs invok'd
To bless the hallow'd rite, and happy night
That to his arms bestow'd the much-lov'd maid,
The gift of Heaven: then gladness fill'd his heart
Unspeakable, as when the sapient King,
The son of David, on the happy day
Of his espousals, when his mother bound
His brow in regal gold, delighted saw
His fair Egyptian bride adorn'd with all
Perfection, blooming in celestial sweets.
" While thus the royal exile liv'd remote,
In Hymen's softest joys, the Scotish Chiefs
Prepare for battle, studious to redeem
Their captive Queen, unknowing of her fate;
With just success unbless'd, discomfited
They fell in ruthless fight, their mighty men,
Unworthy bondage! helpless exiles sold
To foreign lands. The Pictish King enrag'd
Collects an host, embattled as the sands
Along the Solway coast, from all the bounds
Of his wide empire, Brica's rising towers,
And Jeda's ancient walls, once seat of Kings,
With Eden rais'd on rocks, and Canieldoun,
Send forth their chiefs and citizens to war,
Pour'd through their lofty gates. What anguish then,
O royal virgin! vex'd thy tender heart,
When thou, thy husband midst your country's foes,
Euroll'dst their leader? much did'st thou adjure
By nuptial ties, much by endearing love,
To spare thy country in the waste of war;
He too, the youthful Chief, long doubting stood
'Twixt love and duty, unresolv'd of choice,
Hard conflict! to Dunstaffnage' walls he flies,
And left the weeping Fair, intent to drown
The voice of love, soft pleading in his heart,
In sounds of battle: but, in vain! his wife,
A beauteous form, still rises to his thoughts
In supplicating tears; he grieves to see
The mingling hosts engage, and dreads to find
Amid'st the slain, his kindred new allied.
" But now the Pictish King with mighty Chief
Selected from his Peers, pursues his way
To raze the Scotish walls, Dundalgan's towers
Receive their Monarch, proud to entertain
The mighty guest: exults the haughty King
With savage joy, when first his eyes beheld
The maid so lately lost, again restor'd
Sad victim to his lust: what could she do,
Hopeless of aid? or how, alas! avert
The dire event that from the Monarch's lust
Her fears presag'd? 'twas Heav'n her thoughts inspir'd
In hour of sad extreme, she flies the dome
With two, alone of all her menial train,
Companions of her flight. The King meanwhile,
Fierce with desire and violent to enjoy,
Him nor the bowl delights, nor sprightly mirth,
Nor tale of martial Knight in ancient time
Recited: the unfinish'd feast he leaves
With wine inflam'd and ill-persuading lust,
Worst counsellors! — a secret way he found
That to the Queen's apartment led unseen;
Thither he flies through many a lofty hall,
Where heroes oft have met in wise consult,
Elate in thought; but Heavens! what fell despite,
What raging pain tore his distracted mind,
When first he knew the royal fair was fled?
Desperate in rage, he hopes his absent prey,
Intent to ravish. Hurrying to the camp
He sought the General's tent, begirt around
With noble Picts there weeping Ethelind,
In soften'd anguish, on the hero's breast
He found reclining, sad: he would have seiz'd
The trembling fair-one from her lover's arms,
Her surest refuge, miserably torn,
Victim to lust obscene, had not the youth
Withstood the dire attempt of sovereign sway.
Haughty, the Monarch rag'd and call'd his chiefs
To aid, his chiefs refuse the' unjust command:
Then, impotent of mind, he storm'd, he rav'd,
Outrageous in his ire: then wild uproar,
Tumult, and martial din, sounds o'er the camp,
While these assist the King, and these the youth,
By fearless friendship led: the clash of swords,
Through the still night, heard on the Scotish walls,
Alarms the chiefs in midnight council met:
The boldest of their warrior-train they choose
For secret ambush, sheath'd in jointed mail;
The' intrepid band beneath a bending hill,
Await the rising dawn; Mildred they seiz'd,
The royal exile and their social train,
Flying the Monarch's rage: the beauteous Queen
Rejoices to behold her native walls,
Exil'd so long her peers with lifted hands
Extoll'd the bounteous Pow'rs, their Queen return'd,
The wondrous work of Fate; now she relates
Her direful tale; the audience melt in tears.
" Meanwhile the Monarch raging in the camp,
Forsook of all his peers, for fierce assault
Prepar'd, attended with a desperate crew
Of men, that shar'd in partnership of crimes,
March'd forward to his fate; the ambush'd train
Rise sudden, round them spread the slaughter'd foe.
Himself, as furious in the front he warr'd
Bled by a well-aim'd spear; to punish'd ghosts
Of Kings perfidious, fled his guilty soul.
" The Monarch slain, the Pictish Chiefs that late
Forsook the noisy camp, convene within
The Scotish walls, the Princes joyful plight
In leagues of mutual peace; in every fane
Each grateful altar blaz'd; to Heaven they paid
Their vows, their Queen restor'd, and with her peace,
The purchase of her love: through all the town
Public rejoicings reign'd, the voice of mirth
Was heard in every street, that blazing shone
Illuminated bright. The diadem
Instar'd with diamond gems and flaming gold,
Magnificent! by Scotia's Monarchs worn
From eldest times, upon her beauteous brow
Plac'd by a mitred priest, in rich array,
Encircling, shines; her native peers around,
Mix'd with the Pictish Chiefs, admiring stand,
Pleas'd with her heavenly smiles, her gentle look,
The type of softer rule: then next they gave
The sceptre to her hands; the precious stones
Blaz'd on the beaming point; " Hail! Queen of Scots; "
Joyful they cry, " hail! to thy own return'd,
Safe from a thousand toils, beyond our hopes,
Crown'd where thy fathers reign'd: " Thus past the night
In celebrated rites; when morn arose
The assembl'd senate partner of her throne
Elect the noble youth, in times of peace
To aid by counsel, and in war to lead
Her marshall'd chiefs: — thus ended all her woes.
" Bless'd in her husband's, and her subjects' love,
Peace flourish'd in her reign: three sons she bore,
All men of valour known; well could they bend
The bow in time of need. Her eldest, grac'd
With all the train of beauties that adorn
A Prince, succeeded to the Scotish rule
His mother's kingdom; in his happy days
The Scotish prowess twice o'erthrew the Dane
In bloody conflict, from our fatal shore
Repuls'd with ignominious rout, disgrac'd.
Her second hope born to unluckier fate,
Matchless in fight and every gallant deed,
The terror of his foes, his country's hope,
In ruthless battle by ignoble hands
Fell in his prime of youth, for ever wept,
For ever honour'd. Athingart, the last,
For prudence far renown'd, Elgidra's charms
The hero fir'd, as in her father's court
A peaceful legate by his brother sent
To Pictland's Monarch; there the royal youth
Graceful, in warlike tournament above
His equals shone, and won the princely maid
Courted by rival kings: from that embrace
Descend a thousand Chiefs, that lineal heir'd
The virtues of their Sire, witness the fields
Of Loncart, and the streams that purple ran
With stain of Danish blood: the brazen spears
And crested helms, and antique shields, the spoils
Of chiefs in battle slain, hung on the roof;
Eternal trophies of their martial deeds,
From son to son preserv'd with jealous care.
My father in his country's quarrel met
A glorious fate, when godlike Wallace fought;
He, firm adherer to the nobler cause,
Shar'd all his toils, and bled in all his fights,
Till Falkirk saw him fall; with Graham he fell,
Wallace his bold compeer, whom, great in arms,
Wallace alone surpast. With martial thoughts
He fir'd my youthful mind, and taught betimes
To build my glory on my country's love,
His great example! To thy native reign
If thee, thy fate propitious to the good,
Restor'd, he' enjoin'd me to unite my force,
From foreign victors to retrieve again
Thy ravish'd kingdoms: then this sword he gave
In dangers ever faithful to his arm,
Pledge of paternal love; nor shall the foe
Exult, I ween, to find the dastard son
Degenerate from his Sire, to wield in vain
A father's gift. In me, O Bruce! behold
A willing warrior, from Bodotria's stream
I lead my native bands, hardy and bold,
In fight distinguish'd by superior deed."
He said and ceas'd; the arm'd assembly stood
Silent in thought, till from his lofty seat
Great Bruce arose — — " O noble youth!" he cry'd,
" Descended from a line of noble Sires,
Accept thy Monarch's thanks — — Welcome thyself,
Welcome thy sequent Chiefs, thy country sore
Oppress'd by dire usurpers, now demands
Warriors like thee, where death and bloodshed reign
In conflict stern; do thou approve thy might
Above thy fellows, by transcendent acts
To Fame endear'd; She, on thy praise well-pleas'd
Constant to dwell, shall rear thee up on high
The loftiest branch, to adorn thy ancient stem."
He spake, and gave the youth his plighted hand,
Pledge of benevolence and kind intent;
The Chiefs around embrace and glad receive
The youthful champion, worthy of his race.