Wyseby

6 wyseby: a legend
" A boon, my liege," cried a youth, springing for-
ward, and throwing himself at the king's feet ; " a
boon of the Bruce."
Who may this be ? Twenty summers he has not
seen, yet his dark eye meets the eye of the king,
steady as the eye of a veteran ; his voice is firm, as
though for half a century he had known command.
With kingly eyes the royal Bruce scanned him.
" Rise, boy," said he ; " what wouldst thou of us ?''
The youth arose. " My liege," said he, proudly,
" my father served the Bruce faithfully, as his son
would do. In the service of his sovereign he died.
The army of Edward marched northward. Of the
Border barons, some fled, some owned the authority
of the invader. Douglas raised the standard of the
Bruce, and to my father, as to the bravest of his
host, by the good earl was the ensign given, to be
borne, as they fondly believed, on the field of victory.
On Solway Sands they met the proud war-array of
England. What brave men could do was done. But
the arms of the foe prevailed. Long over the dubi-
ous conflict the banner floated aloft. 'Twas marked
by the knights of England as a proud prize. Around
it gathered the bravest warriors of the Border.
Hundreds bide the onset of thousands. It falls, it
rises. It is encompassed by a living mass of valour ;
a living ocean-tide of valour dashes against that;
night closed in ; a path is hewn through close co-
lumns of foes : — it is safe. But of all its brave de-
fenders, its bearer alone is left. Wounded he is,
grievously wounded. Through night he flies. The
moon and the stars witness his solitary flight. Ran-
dolph is advancing. With him the banner will be
safe. But Randolph he will never see. The hand