XXXI.

Thus while they looked, a flourish proud, Where mingled trump and clarion loud, And fife and kettle-drum, And sackbut deep, and psaltery, And war-pipe with discordant cry, And cymbal clattering to the sky, Making wild music bold and high, Did up the mountain come; The whilst the bells, with distant chime, Merrily tolled the hour of prime, And thus the Lindesay spoke: “Thus clamour still the war-notes when The King to mass his way has ta’en, Or to St. Katharine’s of Sienne, Or chapel of Saint Rocque. To you they speak of martial fame; But me remind of peaceful game, When blither was their cheer, Thrilling in Falkland woods the air, In signal none his steed should spare, But strive which foremost might repair To the downfall of the deer.