XXVI.
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Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer,Whose names I now shall call,Scottish, or foreigner, give ear!Subjects of him who sent me here,At his tribunal to appearI summon one and all:I cite you by each deadly sinThat e’er hath soiled your hearts within;I cite you by each brutal lustThat e’er defiled your earthly dust—By wrath, by pride, by fear;By each o’er-mastering passion’s tone,By the dark grave and dying groan!When forty days are passed and gone,I cite you, at your monarch’s throne,To answer and appear.”Then thundered forth a roll of names;The first was thine, unhappy James!Then all thy nobles came:—Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle,Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle—Why should I tell their separate style?Each chief of birth and fame,Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle,Foredoomed to Flodden’s carnage pile,Was cited there by name;And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye,Of Lutterward and Scrivelbaye;De Wilton, erst of Aberley,The self-same thundering voice did say.But then another spoke:“Thy fatal summons I deny,And thine infernal lord defy,Appealing me to Him on high,Who burst the sinner’s yoke.”At that dread accent, with a scream.Parted the pageant like a dream,The summoner was gone.Prone on her face the Abbess fell,And fast and fast her beads did tell;Her nuns came, startled by the yell,And found her there alone.She marked not, at the scene aghast,What time, or how, the Palmer passed.
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