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Thrilling in Faulkland-woods the air,
To the downfal of the deer.
XXXII. « Nor less," he said," when looking forth, I view yon Empress of the North
Sit on her hilly throne;
Nor less," he said, “I moan,
Or, with their larum, call
Dun-Edin's leagured wall.-
Lord Marmion, I say nay:-
But thou thyself shalt say, When joins yon host in deadly stowre, That England's dames must weep in bower,
Her monks the dead-mass sing;
For never saw'st thou such a power
Led on by such a King." And now, down winding to the plain, The barriers of the camp they gain,
And there they made a stay. There stays the Minstrel, till he fling His hand o'er every Border string, And fit his harp the pomp to sing, Of Scotland's ancient Court and King,
In the succeeding lay.
END OF CANTO FOURTII.