’"Of middle air the demons proud,
Who ride upon the racking cloud, 395
Can read, in fix’d or wandering star,
The issue of events afar;
But still their sullen aid withhold,
Save when by mightier force controll’d. 
Such late I summon’d to my hall; 400
And though so potent was the call,
That scarce the deepest nook of hell
I deem’d a refuge from the spell,
Yet, obstinate in silence still,
The haughty demon mocks my skill. 405
But thou,—­who little know’st thy might,
As born upon that blessed night
When yawning graves, and dying groan,
Proclaim’d hell’s empire overthrown,—­
With untaught valour shalt compel 410
Response denied to magic spell.”—­
“Gramercy,” quoth our Monarch free,
“Place him but front to front with me,
And, by this good and honour’d brand,
The gift of Coeur-de-Lion’s hand, 415
Soothly I swear, that, tide what tide,
The demon shall a buffet bide.”—­
His bearing bold the wizard view’d,
And thus, well pleased, his speech renew’d:—­
“There spoke the blood of Malcolm!—­mark:  420
Forth pacing hence, at midnight dark,
The rampart seek, whose circling crown
Crests the ascent of yonder down: 
A southern entrance shalt thou find;
There halt, and there thy bugle wind, 425
And trust thine elfin foe to see,
In guise of thy worst enemy: 
Couch then thy lance, and spur thy steed—­
Upon him! and Saint George to speed! 
If he go down, thou soon shalt know 430
Whate’er these airy sprites can show:—­
If thy heart fail thee in the strife,
I am no warrant for thy life.”

XXIII.

’Soon as the midnight bell did ring,
Alone, and arm’d, forth rode the King 435
To that old camp’s deserted round: 
Sir Knight, you well might mark the mound,
Left hand the town,—­the Pictish race,
The trench, long since, in blood did trace;
The moor around is brown and bare, 440
The space within is green and fair. 
The spot our village children know,
For there the earliest wild-flowers grow;
But woe betide the wandering wight,
That treads its circle in the night! 445
The breadth across, a bowshot clear,
Gives ample space for full career;
Opposed to the four points of heaven,
By four deep gaps are entrance given. 
The southernmost our Monarch past, 450
Halted, and blew a gallant blast;
And on the north, within the ring,
Appeared the form of England’s King,
Who then a thousand leagues afar,
In Palestine waged holy war:  455
Yet arms like England’s did he wield,
Alike the leopards in the shield,
Alike his Syrian courser’s frame,
The rider’s length of limb the same: 
Long afterwards did Scotland know, 460
Fell Edward was her deadliest foe.