But it stood on the highway between Dunfermline and London, between English and Scottish ambitions. And it fell before them. Edward I spared it because the Abbots gave him fealty. But Edward II, less royal in power and in taste, destroyed it. The Bruce rebuilded it again, greater splendour rising out of complete ruin. When Richard II came to Scotland he caused the Abbey to be pillaged and burned. And when Hertford came for Henry VIII, after the Thirty Nine Articles had annulled respect for buildings under the protection of Rome, the final ruin came to St. David's church-palace. Yet, late as 1810, church service, reformed, of course, was held in a roofed-over part of the Abbey ruin. To-day it is under the protection of the Dukes of Buccleuch. And, we remember as we stand here, while the beams of lightsome day gild the ruin, the mottoes of the great family of the Border, _Luna Cornua Reparabit_, which being interpreted is, "There'll be moonlight again." Then to light the raids, the reiving that refilled the larder. But to-morrow for scenic effect. Examined in this daylight, the beauty of Melrose surely loses very little. It is one of the most exquisite ruins in the United Kingdom, perhaps second to Tintern, but why compare? It is of finest Gothic, out of France, not out of England. In its general aspect it is nobly magnificent-- "The darken'd roof rose high aloof On pillars, lofty, light and small; The keystone that locked each ribbed aisle Was a fleur de lys or a quatre feuille, The corbels were carved grotesque and grim; And the pillars with clustered shafts so trim, With base and with capital flourish'd around Seem'd bundles of lances which garlands had bound." And, as a chief detail which yields not to Tintern or any other, is the east window over the high altar, through which the moon and sun shines on those buried hearts-- "The moon on the east oriel shone Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined. Thou would'st have thought some fairy'd hand 'Twixt poplars straight the osier wand In many a freakish knot had twined, Then framed a spell when the work was done, And changed the willow wreaths to stone. The silver light, so pale and faint, Showed many a prophet and many a saint, Whose image on the glass was dyed, Full in the midst his cross of red Triumphant Michael brandish'd, And trampled on the Apostate's pride; The moonbeams kissed the holy pane, And threw on the pavement a bloody stain." _Abbotsford_ If "Scott restored Scotland," he built the "keep" which centers all the Scott-land of the Border side.