Chapter 47 No.47

"But ah! dear lady, thus it sighed

135 The eve thy sainted mother died;

And such the sounds which, while I strove

To wake a lay of war or love,

Came marring all the festal mirth,

Appalling me who gave them birth,

140 And, disobedient to my call,

Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall,note

Ere Douglases to ruin driven,