XXV.

Dunedin’s Cross, a pillared stone, Rose on a turret octagon; (But now is razed that monument Whence royal edict rang, And voice of Scotland’s law was sent In glorious trumpet-clang. Oh! be his tomb as lead to lead Upon its dull destroyer’s head!— A minstrel’s malison is said). Then on its battlements they saw A vision, passing Nature’s law, Strange, wild, and dimly seen— Figures that seemed to rise and die, Gibber and sign, advance and fly, While nought confirmed could ear or eye Discern of sound or mien. Yet darkly did it seem, as there Heralds and pursuivants prepare, With trumpet sound and blazon fair, A summons to proclaim; But indistinct the pageant proud, As fancy-forms of midnight cloud, When flings the moon upon her shroud A wavering tinge of flame; It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud, From midmost of the spectre crowd, This awful summons came:—