Who with ready weapon bare, Fronting to the troopers there, Cried aloud: 'God save us, Call ye coward him who stood Ankle deep in Lützen's[322] blood, 35 With the brave Gustavus?' 'Nay, I do not need thy sword, Comrade mine,' said Ury's lord; 'Put it up, I pray thee: Passive to his holy will, 40 Trust I in my Master still, Even though He slay me. 'Pledges of thy love and faith, Proved on many a field of death, Not by me are needed.' 45 Marvelled much that henchman bold, That his laird, so stout of old, Now so meekly pleaded. 'Woe's the day!' he sadly said, With a slowly shaking head, 50 And a look of pity; 'Ury's honest lord reviled, Mock of knave and sport of child, In his own good city! 'Speak the word, and, master mine, 55 As we charged on Tilly's[323] line, And his Walloon[324] lancers, Smiting through their midst we'll teach Civil look and decent speech To these boyish prancers!' 60 'Marvel not, mine ancient friend, Like beginning, like the end,' Quoth the Laird of Ury; 'Is the sinful servant more Than his gracious Lord who bore 65 Bonds and stripes in Jewry? 'Give me joy that in his name I can bear, with patient frame, All these vain ones offer; While for them He suffereth long, 70 Shall I answer wrong with wrong, Scoffing with the scoffer? 'Happier I, with loss of all, Hunted, outlawed, held in thrall, With few friends to greet me, 75 Than when reeve and squire were seen, Riding out from Aberdeen, With bared heads to meet me. 'When each goodwife, o'er and o'er, Blessed me as I passed her door; 80 And the snooded[325] daughter, Through her casement glancing down, Smiled on him who bore renown From red fields of slaughter. 'Hard to feel the stranger's scoff, 85 Hard the old friend's falling off, Hard to learn forgiving; But the Lord his own rewards, And his love with theirs accords, Warm and fresh and living. 90 'Through this dark and stormy night Faith beholds a feeble light Up the blackness streaking; Knowing God's own time is best, In a patient hope I rest 95 For the full day-breaking!'