"Wallace—he is an old friend of mine," said Finland. "'Sdeath! we've seen some sharp work together on the frontiers of Flanders; and with your permission, my Lords, I will take a turn of service with him to-night."
"As you please," replied the Viscount; "Dunbarton commands here, though he rides in my troop. Go—ha, ha! two heads are better than one."
"I go then; and yonder fanatical senator may beware how he comes within reach of my hand."
"Thy riding-whip, say rather."
"I volunteer also," said Walter, who was under great anxiety to have an opportunity of visiting Lilian.
"And I too," added the Reverend Jonadab Joram. "I long to encounter with bible and bilbo, yonder preacher of sedition, that urges on this unhanged rout of traitors. For know ye, gentlemen, (hiccup) that one preacher is better in Scotland than twenty drummers to find recruits for the devil's service; so, in his own phraseology, I will gird up my loins, and go forth to battle against them. Come on, gallants! Ho, for King James, and down with the whigamores! Rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub——"
"Beware, sirs, for the good cause has not many such spirits to spare," said Claver'se, as they dashed spurs into their horses, and making a detour down one narrow wynd and up another, reached without interruption the deep groined archway of the Palace Porch, an ancient gothic edifice, heavily turreted and battlemented.
CHAPTER VII.
SACK OF HOLYROOD.
'Twas a dream of the ages of darkness and blood,
When the ministers' home was the mountain and wood;
The musquets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming,
The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming;
The heavens grew dark, and the thunder was rolling,
When on Welwood's dark muirland the mighty were falling.
ANONYMOUS.