It glared on Roslin's castled rock, It ruddied all the copse-wood glen; 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from caverned Hawthornden. Seemed all on fire that chapel proud, Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie; Each Baron, for a sable shroud, Sheathed in his iron panoply. Seemed all on fire within, around, Shone every pillar foliage-bound, And glimmered all the dead men's mail. Blazed battlement and pinnet high, There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold Each one the holy vault doth hold— But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle ! And each St. Clair was buried there, With candle, with book, and with knell; But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung, The dirge of lovely Rosabelle. XXV. So sweet was Harold's piteous lay, Scarce marked the guests the darkened hall, Though, long before the sinking day, A wondrous shade involved them all : It was not eddying mist or fog, Drained by the sun from fen or bog; Of no eclipse had sages told; And yet, as it came on apace, Each one could scarce his neighbour's face, Could scarce his own stretched hand behold. A secret horror checked the feast, And chilled the soul of every guest; She knew some evil on the blast ; The elfish Page fell to the ground. And, shuddering, muttered, "Found! found! found!" XXVI. Then sudden, through the darkened air A flash of lightning came; So broad, so bright, so red the glare, The castle seemed on flame; Glanced every rafter of the hall, Glanced every shield upon the wall; Each trophied beam, each sculptured stone, Full through the guests' bedazzled band Resistless flashed the levin-brand, And filled the hall with smouldering smoke, As on the elfish Page it broke. It broke, with thunder long and loud, Dismayed the brave, appalled the proud,~ On Berwick wall, and at Carlisle withal, When ended was the dreadful roar, The elfish Dwarf was seen no more! XXVII. Some heard a voice in Branksome Hall, Some saw a sight, not seen by all; That dreadful voice was heard by some, Cry, with loud summons, GYLBIN, COME !" And on the spot where burst the brand, Just where the Page had flung him down, Some saw an arm, and some a hand, · And some the waving of a gown. The guests in silence prayed and shook, And terror dimmed each lofty look. Was so dismayed as Deloraine; His blood did freeze, his brain did burn, A shape, with amice wrapped around, Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea; And knew-but how it mattered not- XXVIII. The anxious crowd, with horror pale, All trembling, heard the wondrous tale; Till noble Angus silence broke; And he a solemn, sacred plight Did to St. Bride of Douglas make, |