Felicia Hemans

“ No! brave Heart! Though cold and lone,
Kingly power is yet thine own.
Feel I not thy spirit brood
O'er the whispering solitude?
Lo! at one high thought of thee,
Fast they rise, the Bold, the Free,
Sweeping past thy lowly bed
With a mute, yet stately tread;
Shedding their pale armour's light
Forth upon the breathless night;
Bending every warlike plume
In the prayer o'er saintly tomb.
Is the noble Douglas nigh,
Arm'd to follow thee, or die? ”

“ The Roof-tree fall'n, the smouldering floor,
The blacken'd threshold-stone,
The bright hair torn and soil'd with blood,
Whose fountain was my own;
These, and the everlasting hills,
Bore witness that wild night;—
Before them rose the Avenger's soul,
In crush’d Affection's might.
The stars, the searching stars of Heaven,
With keen looks would upbraid,
If from my heart the fiery vow,
Sear'd on it then, could fade.
They have no cause!—Go, ask the streams
That by my paths have swept,
The red waves that unstain'd were born,
How hath my faith been kept? ”