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To the right of this dome, and in front of the burial-place of Queen Catharine of Aragon, Mary of Scotland's sepulchre had been dug: it was a grave of brick, arranged to be covered later with a slab or a marble tomb, and in which was to be deposited the coffin, which the Bishop of Peterborough, in his episcopal robes, but without his mitre, cross, or cope, was awaiting at the door, accompanied by his dean and several other clergy.
On her way north she stopped in Edinburgh over night to see how the work on the fountain had progressed. It was in Scotland's best season, most of the days dry and bright and sharp.
Hence, an invasion of Scotland by the Danes is rather a cause of excitement than disgust to my lord, who rushes to meet the foe, and forgets the dreariness of his domestic circumstances. Welcome, Vikings and Norsemen! Blow, northern blasts, the invaders' keels to Scotland's shore! Randolph and other heroes will be on the beach to give the foemen a welcome!
No tibi soli shall henceforth be the impress on my shield; to thee alone will I ever turn; and till your beams restore your country and revive me, the springing laurels of Edwin Ruthven shall whither where they grew!" Wallace folded him to his heart; a tear stood in his eyes, while he said in a low voice: "If thou art mine, thou art Scotland's. Me, she rejects.
In this great emigration movement, there were great new world interests involved, and champions of the rival parties concerned were two stalwart chieftains, of Scotland's best blood, both with great powers of leadership and both backed up with abundant means and strongest influence. It was a duel indeed a fight, as old Sir Walter Scott would say, "a l'outrance" to the bitter end.
Within the last decade some of the Gothic openings had been filled with beautiful memorial windows. Despite the horrors and absurdities and mutilation of much of the funeral sculpturing, the kirkyard had a sad distinction, such as became its fame as Scotland's Westminster. And, there was one heavenward outlook and heavenly view.
You know: "'Scotland's burning! Scotland's burning! Where, where? Where, where? Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! Pour on water! Pour on water! Fire's out! Fire's out!" Nan laughed. "I've heard that, too," she said. "But it was another Scotland." Then: "So your name is Llewellen?" "Marg'ret Llewellen."
But while his chieftains pursued their gallant chase, he turned his steps from warlike triumph, to pay his heart's honors to the remains of the hero whose blood had so often bathed Scotland's fields of victory. His vigils were again beneath that sacred pall for so long had been the conflict, that night closed in before the last squadrons left the banks of Bannockburn.
Campbell was staring at the wall like one who sees a vision but cannot make out its meaning. The voice of Black McTee swelled high and strong: "Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freemen stand and freemen fa', Let him on wi' me!" And the glass dropped from the lips of the Scotchman. It crashed against the hard floor. Broad Scotch was on his tongue.
All the world knows that it was through the vicarious suffering of one of Scotland's noblest heroes. And why is it that Curtis says that there are three American orations that will live in history Patrick Henry's at Williamsburg, Abraham Lincoln's at Gettysburg and Wendell Philips' at Faneuil Hall?
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