Wyseby
(44) Page 36
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36 WYSKBY ' A LEGEND
ward I fled. Ever bursting into the future, that
terrible silence. Onward I rushed. At length, out
of the thick darkness of night evolved the rosy morn,
slowly ripening into the rich beauty of day. Then
the stern, free hills infused a portion of their strength
into my soul ; — for oh ! sister, pleasant is the grey,
mist-crowned hills to him who fights for a country.
Onward I went.
" 'Twas noon. The weariness of a long flight sat
Upon my limbs. A clear solitary spring — a hospi-
table dweller of the waste — rose in my path. I
knelt, and drank of its refreshing abundance. I sat
by its fresh margin, and the past rose before me,
and my soul grew proud. ' The usurper,' cried I,
exultingly, ' may hold the castles of my land, — the
barons may own his authority, — the peasantry may
bow beneath his sway; but 1 — by this clear spring,
at the foot of that heavenward-pointing mountain,
under that broad cloudless sky — I am free !' I felt it
was so, and a quiet gladness stole upon me. Now
the mountains vanished from my sight, and the song
of the spring died upon my ear. Then other sights
and sounds came. I stood on the floor of my own
glad home again ; I felt the smile of our sainted
mother ; I heard the voice of our brave father ; thou,
my sister, and he, the absent one, rejoiced at my re-
turn I slept.
" The jar of arms awoke me. I started to my feet.
The blue steel of Nairin the traitor, the inveterate
foe of our father, gleamed above my head. An in-
stant, and this fair world had vanished from my view.
' Hold !' shouted a bold voice. A warrior dashed
from a neighbouring thicket, where, like me, he had
sought rest. He caught the descending blade upon
ward I fled. Ever bursting into the future, that
terrible silence. Onward I rushed. At length, out
of the thick darkness of night evolved the rosy morn,
slowly ripening into the rich beauty of day. Then
the stern, free hills infused a portion of their strength
into my soul ; — for oh ! sister, pleasant is the grey,
mist-crowned hills to him who fights for a country.
Onward I went.
" 'Twas noon. The weariness of a long flight sat
Upon my limbs. A clear solitary spring — a hospi-
table dweller of the waste — rose in my path. I
knelt, and drank of its refreshing abundance. I sat
by its fresh margin, and the past rose before me,
and my soul grew proud. ' The usurper,' cried I,
exultingly, ' may hold the castles of my land, — the
barons may own his authority, — the peasantry may
bow beneath his sway; but 1 — by this clear spring,
at the foot of that heavenward-pointing mountain,
under that broad cloudless sky — I am free !' I felt it
was so, and a quiet gladness stole upon me. Now
the mountains vanished from my sight, and the song
of the spring died upon my ear. Then other sights
and sounds came. I stood on the floor of my own
glad home again ; I felt the smile of our sainted
mother ; I heard the voice of our brave father ; thou,
my sister, and he, the absent one, rejoiced at my re-
turn I slept.
" The jar of arms awoke me. I started to my feet.
The blue steel of Nairin the traitor, the inveterate
foe of our father, gleamed above my head. An in-
stant, and this fair world had vanished from my view.
' Hold !' shouted a bold voice. A warrior dashed
from a neighbouring thicket, where, like me, he had
sought rest. He caught the descending blade upon
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Histories of Scottish families > Wyseby > (44) Page 36 |
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Permanent URL | https://digital.nls.uk/95179714 |
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Description | A selection of almost 400 printed items relating to the history of Scottish families, mostly dating from the 19th and early 20th centuries. Includes memoirs, genealogies and clan histories, with a few produced by emigrant families. The earliest family history goes back to AD 916. |
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