And yet the jealous niggard grudge
To pay the forester his fee?
I’ll have my share, howe’er it be,
Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee.”
Bertram his forward step withstood;
And, burning in his vengeful mood,
Old Allan, though unfit for strife,
Laid hand upon his dagger knife;
But Ellen boldly stepp’d between,
And dropp’d at once the tartan screen:—