The Dark Waggon.

I.
The Water-Wraith shrieked over Clyde,1
                        
                        The winds through high Dunbarton sighed,2
                        
                        When to the trumpet’s call replied3
                        
                        The deep drum from the square ;4
                        
                        And, in the midnight’s misty shade,5
                        
                        With helm, and cloak, and glancing blade,6
                        
                        Two hundred horsemen stood arrayed7
                        
                        Beneath the torches’ glare.8
                        II.
Around a huge sepulchral van9
                        
                        They took their stations, horse and man—10
                        
                        The outward gateway’s bolts withdrawn,11
                        
                        In haste the drawbridge fell ;12
                        
                        And out, with iron clatter, went13
                        
                        That sullen midnight armament,14
                        
                        Alone the leader knew where bent,15
                        
                        With what—he might not tell.16
                        III.
Into the darkness they are gone :—17
                        
                        The blinded waggon thundered on,18
                        
                        And, save of hoof-tramp, sound was none :—19
                        
                        Hurriedly on they scour20
                        
                        The eastward track—away—away—21
                        
                        To none they speak, brook no delay,22
                        
                        Till farm-cocks heralded the day,23
                        
                        And hour had followed hour.24
                        IV.
Behind them, mingling with the skies,25
                        
                        Westward the smoke of Glasgow dies—26
                        
                        The pastoral hills of Campsie rise27
                        
                        Northward in morning’s air—28
                        
                        By Kirkintilloc, Cumbernold,29
                        
                        And Castlecary, on they hold,30
                        
                        Till Lythgo shows, in mirror’d gold,31
                        
                        Its palaced loch so fair.*32
                        V.
Brief-baiting time :— the bugle sounds,33
                        
                        Onwards the ponderous van rebounds34
                        
                        Mid the grim squadron, which surrounds35
                        
                        Its path with spur and spear.36
                        
                        * It is mentioned by both the chroniclers, Hemingford, (i. 196) and Trivet,
(332,) that Edward the First built “ a strength ” or fort “ at Linlitcu ” in 1301,
and there enjoyed the festivities of Christmas. Lord Hailes inaccurately states
that he wintered there ; for, by dates since collected from writs, Chalmers has
proved that, although Edward was still at Linlithgow on the 12th January, he
was, on his way home, at Roxburgh on 12th February, and had reached Mor-
peth by the 24th.
                           
                           (332,) that Edward the First built “ a strength ” or fort “ at Linlitcu ” in 1301,
and there enjoyed the festivities of Christmas. Lord Hailes inaccurately states
that he wintered there ; for, by dates since collected from writs, Chalmers has
proved that, although Edward was still at Linlithgow on the 12th January, he
was, on his way home, at Roxburgh on 12th February, and had reached Mor-
peth by the 24th.
This fort, or castle, was probably the same that was, a few years afterwards,
taken by the stratagem of the patriotic yeoman, Binnock, in concealing some of
his followers in a waggon of hay ; and who was rewarded by King Robert with
an estate, which his posterity long afterwards enjoyed.
                           taken by the stratagem of the patriotic yeoman, Binnock, in concealing some of
his followers in a waggon of hay ; and who was rewarded by King Robert with
an estate, which his posterity long afterwards enjoyed.

Thy shrine, Dumanie, fades on sight,*37
                        
                        And, seen from Niddreff’s hazelly height,38
                        
                        The Forth, amid its islands bright,39
                        
                        Shimmers with lustre clear.†40
                        VI.
The Maiden Castle next surveyed,41
                        
                        Across the furzy hills of Braid,42
                        
                        By Craig-Milor, ‡through Wymet’s glade43
                        
                        To Innerese they wound ;§44
                        
                        Then o’er the Garlton crags afar,45
                        
                        Where, oft a check to England’s war,46
                        
                        Cospatrick’s stronghold of Dunbar47
                        
                        In proud defiance frowned.‖48
                        VII.
Weep, through each grove ye tearful rills !49
                        
                        Ye ivied caves, which Echo fills50
                        
                        With voice, lament !  Ye proud, free hills,51
                        
                        Where eagles whee! and soar,52
                        
                        Bid noontide o’er your summits throw53
                        
                        Storm’s murkiest cloud !  Ye vales below,54
                        
                        Let all your wild-flowers cease to blow,55
                        
                        And with bent heads deplore !56
                        * Dalmeny Church is unquestionably of very great antiquity. From the style
of its architecture, which a most competent authority, Mr. Billings, ( “ Baronial
and Ecclesiastical Antiquities,” vol. i) has pronounced to be of the purest Nor-
man, it is referred, at least, to the tenth or eleventh centuries. There is extant
a charter of Waldeve, Earl of Dunbar, from 1166 to 1182, witnessed by the
parson of Dumanie.
                        of its architecture, which a most competent authority, Mr. Billings, ( “ Baronial
and Ecclesiastical Antiquities,” vol. i) has pronounced to be of the purest Nor-
man, it is referred, at least, to the tenth or eleventh centuries. There is extant
a charter of Waldeve, Earl of Dunbar, from 1166 to 1182, witnessed by the
parson of Dumanie.
† On these banks a castle was afterwards erected by the Earls of Wintoun,
the picturesque ruins of which are yet a prominent object, by the edge of the
Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway, to the west of Kirkliston. Queen Mary is
said to have slept there, on her flight from Lochleven to Hamilton, 2d May, 1568.
                        the picturesque ruins of which are yet a prominent object, by the edge of the
Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway, to the west of Kirkliston. Queen Mary is
said to have slept there, on her flight from Lochleven to Hamilton, 2d May, 1568.
‡ The name has for centuries been vulgarised into Craigmillar. Adam de
Cardonnel, in his “ Picturesque Antiquities,’ adheres to the spelling in the
text ; although it is generally now admitted that the appellation is Gaelic—
Craig-moil-ard, or the high bare rock running out into a plain. The original
structure is of unknown antiquity.
                        Cardonnel, in his “ Picturesque Antiquities,’ adheres to the spelling in the
text ; although it is generally now admitted that the appellation is Gaelic—
Craig-moil-ard, or the high bare rock running out into a plain. The original
structure is of unknown antiquity.
§ Woolmet, or Wymet, and Innerese, were granted by charter of David the
First to the Abbey of Dunfermline; the latter in confirmation of a previous grant
by Malcolm Canmore and Queen Margaret, (‘* Registrum de Dunformlyn,” Imp.
Edin. 1842, p. 5,6.) A small mausoleum of the Wauchope family now occupies
the site of the chapel of Wymet; and the venerable pile of St. Michael the Arch-
angel, at Inneresc, was ruthlessly demolished in 1804. The house in which the
great Randolph died, which was about half a mile distant, was also hewn down,
about ten years afterwards, to make way for a shabby masonic lodge.
                        First to the Abbey of Dunfermline; the latter in confirmation of a previous grant
by Malcolm Canmore and Queen Margaret, (‘* Registrum de Dunformlyn,” Imp.
Edin. 1842, p. 5,6.) A small mausoleum of the Wauchope family now occupies
the site of the chapel of Wymet; and the venerable pile of St. Michael the Arch-
angel, at Inneresc, was ruthlessly demolished in 1804. The house in which the
great Randolph died, which was about half a mile distant, was also hewn down,
about ten years afterwards, to make way for a shabby masonic lodge.
‖ The family of Cospatrick, a powerful Northumbrian nobleman, took refuge
in Scotland after the death of Harold at Hastings, and in 1072 had extensive
lands in the Merse and Lothian gifted them by Maleolm Canmore. They con-
tinued to be one of the most opulent and powerful houses in the east of Scotland
for a considerable period, as evidenced by their donations, noted in the chartu-
laries of Coldingham, Newbottle, Dryburg, Kelso, Melrose, and Soltra. Found-
ed on a steep rugged rock, within sea-mark, and communicating with the land
through a covered passage, the castle of Dunbar might well, before the invention
of gunpowder, have been deemed impregnable. It was often the theatre of war-
like contention, and two great battles were fought in its immediate neighbour-
hood,—the first in 1296, when Earl Warenne defeated the army of Scotland sent
for its relief; and the second in 1650, when Leslie was overthrown by Crom-
well. It was often besieged, and as often bravely defended ; but perhaps never
so brilliantly as by Black Agnes against the Earl of Salisbury in 1337.
                        in Scotland after the death of Harold at Hastings, and in 1072 had extensive
lands in the Merse and Lothian gifted them by Maleolm Canmore. They con-
tinued to be one of the most opulent and powerful houses in the east of Scotland
for a considerable period, as evidenced by their donations, noted in the chartu-
laries of Coldingham, Newbottle, Dryburg, Kelso, Melrose, and Soltra. Found-
ed on a steep rugged rock, within sea-mark, and communicating with the land
through a covered passage, the castle of Dunbar might well, before the invention
of gunpowder, have been deemed impregnable. It was often the theatre of war-
like contention, and two great battles were fought in its immediate neighbour-
hood,—the first in 1296, when Earl Warenne defeated the army of Scotland sent
for its relief; and the second in 1650, when Leslie was overthrown by Crom-
well. It was often besieged, and as often bravely defended ; but perhaps never
so brilliantly as by Black Agnes against the Earl of Salisbury in 1337.

VIII.
Ye passions, that, with holy fire,57
                        
                        Illume man’s bosom—that inspire58
                        
                        To daring deed, or proud desire,59
                        
                        With indignation burn !60
                        
                        Ye household charities, that keep61
                        
                        Watch over childhood’s rosy sleep,62
                        
                        Ashes bestrew the hearthstone,—weep63
                        
                        As o’er a funeral urn !64
                        IX.
On—on they speed. Oh dreary day,65
                        
                        That, like a vampire, drained away66
                        
                        The blood from Scotland’s heart—delay,67
                        
                        Thou lingering sun to set !68
                        
                        Rain, twilight !  rain down bloody dews69
                        
                        O’er all the eye far northward views ;70
                        
                        Nor do thou, night of nights !  refuse71
                        
                        A darkness black as jet.72
                        X.
Heroic spirits of the dead !73
                        
                        That in the body nobly bled,74
                        
                        By whom the battle-field for bed75
                        
                        Was chosen, look ye down,—76
                        
                        And see if hearts are all grown cold,—77
                        
                        If for their just rights none are bold,—78
                        
                        If servile earth one bosom hold,79
                        
                        Worthy of old renown ?80
                        XI.
The pass-word given, o’er bridge of Tweed81
                        
                        The cavalcade, with slackened speed,82
                        
                        Rolled on, like one from night-mare freed,83
                        
                        That draws an easier breath ;84
                        
                        But o’er and round it hung the gloom85
                        
                        As of some dark, mysterious doom,86
                        
                        Shadows cast forward from-the tomb,87
                        
                        And auguries of death.88
                        XII.
Scotland receded from the view,89
                        
                        And, on the far horizon blue,90
                        
                        Faded her last, dear hills—the mew91
                        
                        Screamed to its sea-isle near.92
                        
                        As day-beams ceased the west to flout,93
                        
                        Each after each the stars came out,94
                        
                        Like camp-fires heaven’s high hosts about,95
                        
                        With lustre calm and clear.96
                        XIII.
And on, through many a Saxon town97
                        
                        Northumbrian, and of quaint renown,98
                        
                        Before the morning star went down,99
                        
                        With thunderous reel they hied ;100
                        
                        While from the lattices aloof,101
                        
                        Of many an angled, gray-stone roof,102
                        
                        Rose sudden heads, as sound of hoof103
                        
                        And wheel to southward died.104
                        
XIV.
Like Hope’s voice preaching to Despair,105
                        
                        Sweetly the chimes for matin prayer106
                        
                        Melted upon the dewy air107
                        
                        From Hexham’s holy pile ;108
                        
                        But, like the adder deaf, no sound,109
                        
                        Or stern or sweet, an echo found110
                        
                        ’Mid that dark squadron, as it wound111
                        
                        Still onwards, mile on mile.112
                        XV.
Streamers, and booths, and country games,113
                        
                        And brawny churls, with rustic names,114
                        
                        And blooming maids, and buxom dames,—115
                        
                        A boisterous village fair !116
                        
                        On stage his sleights the jongleur shows,117
                        
                        Like strutting cock the jester crows,118
                        
                        And high the morrice-dancer throws119
                        
                        His antic heels in air.120
                        XVI.
Why pause at reel each lad and lass ?121
                        
                        A solemn awe pervades the mass ;122
                        
                        Wondering they see the travellers pass,123
                        
                        The horsemen journey-worn,124
                        
                        And, in the midst, that blinded van125
                        
                        So hearse-like ;  while, from man to man,126
                        
                        “ Is it of Death”—in whispers ran—127
                        
                        “ This spectacle forlorn ?”128
                        XVII.
Bright are thy shadowy forest-bowers,129
                        
                        Fair Ashby-de-la-Zouche !  with flowers ;130
                        
                        The wild-deer in its covert cowers,131
                        
                        And, from its pine-tree old,132
                        
                        The startled cushat, in unrest,133
                        
                        Circles around its airy nest,134
                        
                        As forward, on its route unblest,135
                        
                        Aye on that waggon rolled.136
                        XVIII.
And many a grove-encircled town,137
                        
                        And many a keep of old renown,138
                        
                        That grimly watched o’er dale and down,139
                        
                        They passed unheeding by :140
                        
                        Prone from the rocks the waters streamed,141
                        
                        And, ’mid the yellow harvests, gleamed142
                        
                        The reapers’ sickles, but all seemed,143
                        
                        Mere pictures to the eye.144
                        XIX.
Behold a tournay on the green !145
                        
                        The tents are pitched—the tilters keen146
                        
                        Gambol the listed lines between—147
                        
                        The motley crowds around148
                        
                        For jibe, and jest, and wanton play149
                        
                        Are met—a merry holiday ;150
                        
                        And glide the lightsome hours away151
                        
                        In mirth, to music’s sound.152
                        
XX.
And hark !  the exulting shouts that rise,153
                        
                        As, cynosure of circling eyes,154
                        
                        Beauty’s fair queen awards the prize155
                        
                        To knight that lowly kneels.156
                        
                        “ Make way—make way !”  is heard aloud—157
                        
                        Like Red Sea waters part the crowd,158
                        
                        And, scornful of that pageant proud,159
                        
                        On grinding rush the wheels !160
                        XXI.
Hundreds and Hamlets far from sight,161
                        
                        By lonely granges through the night162
                        
                        They camped ;  and, ere the morning light163
                        
                        Crimsoned the orient, they164
                        
                        By royal road or baron’s park,165
                        
                        Waking the watchful ban-dog’s bark,166
                        
                        Before the first song of the lark,167
                        
                        Were on their southward way.168
                        XXII.
By Althorpe, and by Oxendon,169
                        
                        Without a halt they hurried on,170
                        
                        Nor paused by that fair cross of stone,171
                        
                        Now for the first time seen,172
                        
                        (For death’s dark billows overwhelm173
                        
                        Both jewelled braid, and knightly helm !)174
                        
                        Raised by the monarch of the realm,175
                        
                        To Eleanor his queen.*176
                        XXII.
Five times through darkness and through day,177
                        
                        Since crossing Tweed, with fresh relay178
                        
                        Ever in wait, their forward way179
                        
                        That cavalcade had held ;180
                        
                        Now joy !  ! !  for, on the weary wights,181
                        
                        Loomed London from the Hampstead heights,182
                        
                        As, by the opal morning, Night’s183
                        
                        Thin vapors were dispell’d.184
                        XXIV.
With spur on heel, and spear in rest,185
                        
                        And buckler’d arm, and trellised breast,186
                        
                        Closer around their charge they press’d—187
                        
                        On whirled, with livelier roll,188
                        
                        The wheels begirt with prancing feet,189
                        
                        And arms,—a serried mass complete,190
                        
                        Until, by many a stately street,191
                        
                        They reached their destined goal.192
                        * This venerable memorial, which gives the name of  “ Queen’s Cross” to the
neighbouring locality in Northamptonshire, is a beautiful specimen of architec-
ture, although much defaced by time, and the efforts of renovators.
                        
                        neighbouring locality in Northamptonshire, is a beautiful specimen of architec-
ture, although much defaced by time, and the efforts of renovators.
The  “ trellised” vest, mentioned in stanza XXIV., was a species of armour, so
called by contemporary, Norman writers ; and consisted of a cloth coat, reach-
ing only to the haunches. This was intersected by broad straps of leather, so
laid on as to cross each other, and leave small intervening squares of cloth,
in the middle of which was a knob of steel. (Vide Meyrick’s Ancient Armour, vol. i. p. 11.)
                        called by contemporary, Norman writers ; and consisted of a cloth coat, reach-
ing only to the haunches. This was intersected by broad straps of leather, so
laid on as to cross each other, and leave small intervening squares of cloth,
in the middle of which was a knob of steel. (Vide Meyrick’s Ancient Armour, vol. i. p. 11.)

XXV.
Grim Westminster !  thy pile severe193
                        
                        Struck to the heart like sudden fear ;—194
                        
                        “ Hope flies from all that enter here !”195
                        
                        Seemed graven on its crest.196
                        
                        The moat o’erpassed, at warn of bell,197
                        
                        Down thundering the portcullis fell,198
                        
                        And clang’d the studded gates,—a knell199
                        
                        Despairing and unblest.200
                        XXVI.
Ye guardian angels !  that fulfil201
                        
                        Heaven’s high decrees, and work its will—202
                        
                        Ye thunderbolts !  launched forth to kill,—203
                        
                        Where was it then ye slept—204
                        
                        When, foe-bemocked, in prison square,205
                        
                        To death fore-doomed, with dauntless air,206
                        
                        From out that van,207
                        
                        A shackled man—208
                        
                        Sir William Wallace stept !209