And, I bethink me, by St. Stephen,
But e'en this morn to me was given
A prize, the first fruits of the war,
Ta'en by a galley from Dunbar,
A bevy of the maids of Heaven.
Under your guard these holy maids
Shall safe return to cloister shades.'"
The proud heart of Douglas felt the keen thrust. It was true, he would
not, even for the King he devotedly loved, draw sword in an unholy
cause. As a burning tear stole down his scarred cheek, he turned aside
to conceal what might seem weakness. This sight the king could not bear,
and seizing the hand of Angus, exclaimed:
"'Now, by the Bruce's soul,
Angus, my hasty speech forgive!
I well may say of you,--
That never king did subject hold,
In speech more free, in war more bold,
More tender and more true:
Forgive me, Douglas, once again!'"
While monarch and man embraced, while the aged noble's tears fell like
rain, Marmion seized the moment to restore himself to favor with both,
and whispered half aloud to the King:
"'Oh! let such tears unwonted plead
For respite short from dubious deed!
A child will weep a bramble's smart,
A maid to see her sparrow part,
A stripling for a woman's heart:
But woe awaits a country when
She sees the tears of bearded men.
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