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That he had seen right certainly,
A shape with amice wrapped around,
With a wrought Spanish baldric bound,
Like pilgrim from beyond the sea—
And knew—but how it mattered not—
It was the wizard, Michael Scott.
A shape with amice wrapped around,
With a wrought Spanish baldric bound,
Like pilgrim from beyond the sea—
And knew—but how it mattered not—
It was the wizard, Michael Scott.
XXVIII.
The anxious crowd, with horror pale,
All trembling, heard the wondrous tale;
No sound was made, no word was spoke,
Till noble Angus silence broke;
And he a solemn sacred plight
Did to St Bride of Douglas make,
That he a pilgrimage would take
To Melrose Abbey, for the sake
Of Michael's restless sprite.
Then each to ease his troubled breast,
To some blessed saint his prayers addressed:
The anxious crowd, with horror pale,
All trembling, heard the wondrous tale;
No sound was made, no word was spoke,
Till noble Angus silence broke;
And he a solemn sacred plight
Did to St Bride of Douglas make,
That he a pilgrimage would take
To Melrose Abbey, for the sake
Of Michael's restless sprite.
Then each to ease his troubled breast,
To some blessed saint his prayers addressed:
