But merrier were they in Dunfermline[252] gray,
When all the bells were ringing.
XVI.
Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed,
A stranger climb’d the steepy glade;
His martial step, his stately mien,
His hunting suit of Lincoln green,
His eagle glance, remembrance claims—
’Tis Snowdoun’s Knight, ’tis James Fitz-James.
Ellen beheld as in a dream,