Wyseby

OF THE FIRST IRVINCS. 13
in those days beautiful in its strength, was the castle
of Burdock.
Descended from a long line of heroes, Brian de
Esecal ardently panted for distinction — for glory.
To the second son of a Norman baron, this was no
easy attainment in his own country. But the world
is wide ; the trumpet of Fame sounds loud ; and
Brian heard daily in his father's halls of adventurous
knights, landless and friendless, by prowess n arms
placing the laurel-wreath of glory upon their brows.
He girded on his good sword, and secretly left his
native land, where man was oppressed to fight —
to win a name — or to perish. Champion of the op-
pressed, short were thy journey couldst thou see ;
>— everywhere man is oppressed. In the sultry
East, in the glowing South, in the sunny West, in
the tempestuous North, by others and by himself
man is oppressed.
About this time — flouting the sky with their
gaudy banners, troubling the air with their loud
vaunts — at Largs lay the invading army of Acho
of Denmark. The host of King Alexander, — the
champions of freedom, the sons of the hill, — to
fight for their smiling babes, their lovely wives,
their beautiful cottage-homes, their birthright coun-
try, are assembled there. By Heaven ! it was a
glorious sight that. Rude peasant men — strong in
the might of right, — their quiet occupations far
away, — their limbs sheathed in mail — raising with
one voice the heart- born shout, fatal to tyranny.
Then closing in the grim strife — the rush — the
crash — the deadly close — the incessant clang —the
wild beat of life beating quicker then.
Thither came Sir Brian. To the presence of
c