16. "Nor deem," said Dunnegan's knight, "That thou shalt brave alone the fight! By saints of isle and mainland both, By woden wild--my grandsire's oath-- Let Rome and England do their worst; Rowe'er attainted and accursed, If Bruce shall e'er find friends again, Once more to brave a battle-plain, If Douglas couch again his lance, Or Randolph dare another chance, Old Torquil will not be to lack With twice a thousand at his back; Nay, chafe not at my bearing bold, Good abbot! for thou knowest of old, Torquil's rude thought and stubborn will Smack of the wild Norwegian still Nor will I barter freedom's cause For England's wealth or Rome's applause!" 17. The abbot seemed with eye severe, The hardy chieftain's speech to hear; Then on King Robert turned the monk, But twice his courage came and sunk, Confronted with the hero's look; Twice fell his eye, his accents shook; At length resolved in tone and brow, Sternly he questioned him, "And thou Unhappy, what hast thou to plead, Why I denounce not on thy deed That awful doom which canons tell Shuts paradise and opens hell? Anathema of power so dread, It blends the living with the dead, Bids each good angel soar away, And every ill one claim his prey; Expels thee from the church's care, And deafens Heaven against thy prayer; Arms every hand against thy life, Bans all who aid thee in the strife; Nay, each whose succor, cold and scant, With meanest alms relieves thy want; Haunts thee when living; and, when dead, Dwells on thy yet devoted head, Rends honor's 'scutcheon from thy hearse, Stills o'er thy bier the holy verse, And spurns thy corpse from hallowed ground Flung like vile carrion to the hound; Such is the dire and desperate doom For sacrilege, decreed by Rome; And such the well-deserved meed Of thine unhallowed, ruthless deed."