Kirkpatrick of Closeburn

OF CLOSEBURN. «0
Death flashes from bis keen blue eye,
As to bis feet is brought,
Unarmed and bound, the sentry found
On guard o'er him they sought.
" Traitor!" and glancing high in air,
The Earl's bright falchion quivers,
It falls, but checked and dashed aside,
In the firm oak beam shivers.
Why failed his arm, so firm and true ?
It rarely failed till now :
And what hath blanched that iron cheek
And tamed the threatening brow ?
A gentle form has glided 'tween
The victim and the blow,
Margaret's fair neck it slightly grazed —
The red drops trickling flow.
Tes, there she knelt, his daughter dear,
In penitent's array,
Her feet were bare, and her long dark hair
On the stone pavement lay.
All stood aghast ; her eye was firm,
But her cheek and lip were pale,
Yet lovely shewed, through the waving cloud
Of her dark mourning veil.
" Father, behold the Traitor here :"
The silvery tone was heard,
By each and all, in that crowded hall,
And every heart is stirred.
E