But the far mind was absent in pursuit
Of him, her love, in fields where foes contested
The bloody harvest, and a crown the fruit,
Dread fruit, with cares and dangerous joys invested!
Her mind was absent in the distant war.
PEDRO OF CASTILE.
"Whither awa', Clermistonlee, ye mad buckie?" exclaimed Lord Mersington, as his friend jostled past him under the great pillars or arcade near the cross, one forenoon, when all the city were abroad enjoying the sunshine; "whatna way is that to gliff folk? is a dun or the deil after ye?"
"I crave pardon, my Lord, but did not observe you; for what is all this crowd collected?"
"The heralds have been proclaiming the ratification of the new Protestant league against Louis of France."
"A league," added Clermistonlee scornfully, "which our pious and glorious William hath tinkered up, that the treasure and blood of his two British kingdoms may be wasted in defence of the rascally Hollanders and thick-pated Flemings. By all the devils, my Lord, we have brought our political pigs to a pretty market!" and he began to whistle a cavalier air.
"Wheesht!" said Mersington, glancing furtively around him; "this is clean contrary to the Act of Council; and mind ye, my braw billy, if ye aye strut with that long feather and cocked beaver, your pinkit mantle, and lace o'erlay, like a ruffling buck o' King Charles' time, instead o' wearing the sad-coloured garb and sober demeanour of these our present days, when naething but psalm-singing, swearing in low Dutch, and mortifying the spirit, are in vogue, you'll sune hae the eyes o' the Council upon ye, as a Jacobite in disguise, a hatcher o' plots, conspiracies, and the deil kens what mair—he, he!"
"Crush me, if I will lessen one curl of my peruke, or one slash in my doublet, to please any Dutch king or clown that ever wore breeches!"
"You seem in a braw mood this morning. I warrant you'll hae pouched a round sum at shovel-board last night in the Covenant Close."
"A messenger from the court of St. Germain has just been arrested by Muclutchy, the macer of Council," replied Clermistonlee, watching keenly the sharp visage of the senator; "by Jove, you change colour, my gossip!—any correspondence in that quarter, hah?"
"I trow not," said the other, resuming his immovable aspect; "d'ye tak' me for a gomeral? What is that we see above the Tolbooth-gable?"