ns of his strength, he tossed his arms wildly to
heaven, and uttered a cry of indignation, horror, and despair, which,
tradition says, was heard to a preternatural distance, and resembled the
cry of a dying lion more than a human sound.

His friends received him in their arms as he sank utterly exhausted by
the effort, and bore him back to his castle in mute sorrow; while his
daughter at once wept for her brother, and endeavoured to mitigate and
soothe the despair of her father. But this was impossible; the old man's
only tie to life was rent rudely asunder, and his heart had broken with
it. The death of his son had no part in his sorrow. If he thought of
him at all, it was as the degenerate boy through whom the honour of his
country and clan had been lost; and he died in the course of three
days, never even mentioning his name, but pouring out unintermitted
lamentations for the loss of his noble sword.

I conceive that the moment when the disabled chief was roused into a
last exertion by the agony of the moment is favourable to the object of
a painter. He might obtain the full advantage of contrasting the form
of the rugged old man, in the extremity of furious despair, with the
softness and beauty of the female form. The fatal field might be thrown
into perspective, so as to give full effect to these two principal
figures, and with the single explanation that the piece represented a
soldier beholding his son slain, and the honour of his country lost, the
picture would be sufficiently intelligible at the first glance. If it
was thought necessary to show more clearly the nature of the conflict,
it might be indicated by the pennon of Saint George being displayed at
one end of the lists, and that of Saint Andrew at the other.

I remain, sir,

Your obedient servant,

THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tapestried Chamber, and Death of
the Laird's Jock, by Sir Walter Scott

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