Broken cross, a legend of Douglas

10 THE BROKEN CROSS.
Cut from the o'erhanging bank, and shaded in
By the dense foliage of the sombre pine,
And that sad tree, whosefdark and pendent bough [i
Weeps to its image in the sullen pool.
Night ceaseless holds her solitary sway.
The wood dove flies from" that unhallowed glen,
Nor with her love-note soothes the chafing stream ;
But there the moody owl his palace builds,
And on th' intruder casts his glaring gaze ;
Whilst on the lowering rocks' high pinnacle,
The hungry raven chides with ominous croak,
And to the idle winds that pass, foretells
His evil prophesy, his tale of blood.
Within these ample shades the border men
Draw up their weary steeds, and from the woods
Fresh provender they bring ; and next their arms
They criticise with careful eye, and place
Beside them on the ground. The sentry next
With cautious pace, peers through the woodland glades,
And hearkens to each distant sound, that floats
Upon his ear, borne by the lazy breeze.
On the soft mossy bank the Troopers rest ;
In murmurs low relate their deeds of yore,
Or patient slumber the long hours away.