'T was then upspoke Sir Robert Græme, The bold o'ermastering man: "O King, in the name of your Three Estates I set you under their ban! "For, as your lords made oath to you Of service and fealty, Even in like wise you pledged your oath Their faithful sire to be: "Yet all we here that are nobly sprung Have mourned dear kith and kin Since first for the Scotish Barons' curse Did your bloody rule begin." With that he laid his hands on his King: "Is this not so, my lords?" But of all who had sworn to league with him Not one spake back to his words. Quoth the King: "Thou speak'st but for one Estate, Nor doth it avow thy gage. Let my liege lords hale this traitor hence!" The Græme fired dark with rage: "Who works for lesser men than himself, He earns but a witless wage!" But soon from the dungeon where he lay He won by privy plots, And forth he fled with a price on his head To the country of the Wild Scots. And word there came from Sir Robert Græme To the King at Edinbro': "No Liege of mine thou art; but I see From this day forth alone in thee God's creature, my mortal foe. "Through thee are my wife and children lost, My heritage and lands; And when my God shall show me a way, Thyself my mortal foe will I slay With these my proper hands." Against the coming of Christmastide That year the King bade call I' the Black Friars' Charterhouse of Perth A solemn festival. And we of his household rode with him In a close-ranked company; But not till the sun had sunk from his throne Did we reach the Scotish Sea. That eve was clenched for a boding storm, 'Neath a toilsome moon, half seen; The cloud stooped low and the surf rose high; And where there was a line of the sky, Wild wings loomed dark between. And on a rock of the black beach-side By the veiled moon dimly lit, There was something seemed to heave with life As the King drew nigh to it. And was it only the tossing furze Or brake of the waste sea-wold? Or was it an eagle bent to the blast? When near we came, we knew it at last For a woman tattered and old. But it seemed as though by a fire within Her writhen limbs were wrung; And as soon as the King was close to her, She stood up gaunt and strong. 'T was then the moon sailed clear of the rack On high in her hollow dome; And still as aloft with hoary crest Each clamorous wave rang home, Like fire in snow the moonlight blazed Amid the champing foam. And the woman held his eyes with her eyes: "O King, thou art come at last; But thy wraith has haunted the Scotish Sea To my sight for four years past.