Ill with King James's mood that day, Suited gay feast and minstrel lay; Soon were dismiss'd the courtly throng, And soon cut short the festal song. Nor less upon the sadden'd town The evening sunk in sorrow down. The burghers spoke of civil jar, Of rumor'd feuds and mountain war, Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, All up in arms:--the Douglas too, They mourn'd him pent within the hold, "Where stout Earl William[322] was of old."-- And there his word the speaker stayed, And finger on his lip he laid, Or pointed to his dagger blade. But jaded horsemen, from the west, At evening to the Castle press'd; And busy talkers said they bore Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore; At noon the deadly fray begun, And lasted till the set of sun. Thus giddy rumor shook the town, Till closed the Night her pennons brown. [322] The Douglas who was stabbed by James II. CANTO SIXTH. THE GUARD ROOM. I. The sun, awakening, through the smoky air Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, Rousing each caitiff[323] to his task of care, Of sinful man the sad inheritance; Summoning revelers from the lagging dance, Scaring the prowling robber to his den; Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance, And warning student pale to leave his pen, And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men. What various scenes, and, oh! what scenes of woe, Are witness'd by that red and struggling beam! The fever'd patient, from his pallet low, Through crowded hospital beholds its stream; The ruin'd maiden trembles at its gleam, The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, The lovelorn wretch starts from tormenting dream; The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail. [323] Wretched, unfortunate man. II. At dawn the towers of Stirling rang With soldier step and weapon clang, While drums, with rolling note, foretell Relief to weary sentinel. Through narrow loop and casement barr'd, The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, And, struggling with the smoky air, Deaden'd the torches' yellow glare. In comfortless alliance shone The lights through arch of blacken'd stone, And show'd wild shapes in garb of war, Faces deform'd with beard and scar, All haggard from the midnight watch, And fever'd with the stern debauch; For the oak table's massive board, Flooded with wine, with fragments stored, And beakers drain'd, and cups o'erthrown, Show'd in what sport the night had flown. Some, weary, snored on floor and bench; Some labor'd still their thirst to quench; Some, chill'd with watching, spread their hands O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, While round them, or beside them flung, At every step their harness[324] rung. [324] Armor and other accouterments of war.