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Porter, Jane, 1776-1850

"The Scottish Chiefs"

And my peasantry of Lanark, how many
of you have found untimely graves in the bosom of your vainly rescued
country!"
A few steps forward, and he stood on a mound of moldering fragments,
heaped over the pavement of what had been the hall.
"My wife's blood marks the stones beneath!" cried he.
He flung himself on the ruins, and a groan burst from his heart. It
echoed mournfully from the opposite rock. He started and gazed around.
"Solitude!" cried he, with a faint smile; "naught is here, but Wallace
and his sorrow. Marion! I call, and even thou dost not answer me;
thou, who didst ever fly at the sound of my voice! Look on me, love!"
exclaimed he, stretching his arms toward the sky; "look on me, and for
once, till ever, cheer thy lonely, heart-stricken Wallace!"
Tears choked his further utterance; and once more laying his head upon
the stones, he wept in silence, till exhausted natured found repose in
sleep.
The sun was gilding the gray summits of the ruined tower under whose
shadow he lay, when Wallace slowly opened his eyes; looking around him,
he smote his breast, and with a heavy groan sunk back upon the stones.
In the silence which succeeded this burst of memory, he thought he
heard a rustling near him, and a half-suppressed sigh.


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