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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519601" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Bruce and the Abbot</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Abbot on the threshold stood,<br>And in his hand the holy rood:<br>Then, cloaking hate with fiery zeal,<br>Proud Lorn first answered the appeal; -<br>'Thou comest, O holy man,<br>True sons of blessed church to greet,<br>But little deeming here to meet <br>A wretch, beneath the ban <br>Of Pope and Church, for murder done<br>Even on the sacred altar-stone!-<br>Well mayst thou wonder we should know<br>Such miscreant here, nor lay him low,<br>Or dream of greeting, peace, or truce,<br>With excommunicated Bruce!<br>Yet will I grant to end debate,<br>Thy sainted voice decide his fate.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Abbot seemed with eye severe<br>The hardy chieftain's speech to hear;<br>Then on King Robert turned the Monk, -<br>But twice his courage came and sunk,<br>Confronted with the hero's look;<br>Twice fell his eye, his accents shook;<br>Like man by prodigy amazed,<br>Upon the King the Abbot gazed:<br>Then o'er his pallid features glance<br>Convulsions of ecstatic trance;<br>His breathing came more thick and fast,<br>And from his pale blue eyes were cast<br>Strange rays of wild and wandering light;<br>Uprise his locks of silver white,<br>Flushed is his brow; through every vein<br>In azure tide the currents strain,<br>And undistinguished accents broke<br>The awful silence ere he spoke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'De Bruce! I rose with purpose dread<br>To speak my curse upon thy head,<br>And give thee as an outcast o'er<br>To him who burns to shed thy gore; -<br>But, like the Midianite of old,<br>Who stood on Zophim, heaven-controlled,<br>I feel within mine aged breast<br>A power that will not be repressed.<br>It prompts my voice, it swells my veins,<br>It burns, it maddens, it constrains! -<br>De Bruce, thy sacrilegious blow<br>Hath at God's altar slain thy foe:<br>O'er mastered yet by high behest,<br>I bless thee, and thou shalt be blessed!'<br>He spoke, and o'er the astonished throng<br>Was silence, awful, deep, and long.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Again that light has fired his eye,<br>Again his form swells bold and high,<br>The broken voice of age is gone,<br>'Tis vigorous manhood's lofty tone: -<br>'Thrice vanquished on the battle plain, -<br>Thy followers slaughtered, fled, or ta'en, -<br>A hunted wanderer on the wild,<br>On foreign shores a man exiled,<br>Disowned, deserted, and distressed, -<br>I bless thee, and thou shalt be blessed!<br>Blessed in the hall and in the field,<br>Under the mantle as the shield.<br>Avenger of thy country's shame,<br>Restorer of her injured fame,<br>Blessed in thy sceptre and thy sword, -<br>De Bruce, fair Scotland's rightful Lord,<br>Blessed in thy deeds and in thy fame,<br>What lengthened honors wait thy name!<br>In distant ages, sire to son<br>Shall tell thy tale of freedom won,<br>And teach his infants, in the use<br>Of earliest speech, to falter Bruce.<br>Go, then, triumphant! sweep along<br>Thy course, the theme of many a song!<br>The Power, whose dictates swell my breast,<br>Hath blessed thee, and thou shalt be blessed!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Walter+Scott">Sir Walter Scott</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519601" data-title="Bruce and the Abbot de Sir Walter Scott" data-description="The Abbot on the threshold stood,
And in his hand the holy rood:
Then, cloaking hate with fiery zeal,
Proud Lorn first answered the appeal; -
'Thou comest, O holy man,
True sons of blessed church to greet,
But little deeming here to meet 
A wretch..."></div>
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