'
"One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach'd the hall door, and the charger stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
'She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They'll have fleet steeds that follow,' quoth young Lochinvar.
"There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?"
The monarch hung over the wily singer, and beat the measure as she sang.
He pressed closer, and whispered praises in her ear. The courtiers broke
in applause, the ladies whispered, and looked wise. The witching dame,
not satisfied to win a King, threw her glances at Lord Marmion. The
glances were significant, familiar, and told of confidences long and old
between the English lord and his countrywoman, guests of a Scotch King,
on the eve of a great conflict between the two countries.
The King saw their meeting eyes, saw himself treated almost with
disdain, and darkest anger shook his frame, for sovereigns illy bear
rivals in word, or smile, or look.
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