`ancient enemies of England had crossed the Tweed'!

I am the most peaceful person in the world, but the Castle was too
much for my imagination. I was mounted and off and away from the
first moment I gazed upon its embattled towers, heard the pipers in
the distance, and saw the Black Watch swinging up the green steps
where the huge fortress `holds its state.' The modern world had
vanished, and my steed was galloping, galloping, galloping back into
the place-of-the-things-that-are-past, traversing centuries at every
leap.

`To arms! Let every banner in Scotland float defiance to the
breeze!' (So I heard my new-born imaginary spirit say to my real
one.) `Yes, and let the Deacon Convener unfurl the sacred Blue
Blanket, under which every liege burgher of the kingdom is bound to
answer summons! The bale-fires are gleaming, giving alarm to Hume,
Haddington, Dunbar, Dalkeith, and Eggerhope. Rise, Stirling, Fife,
and the North! All Scotland will be under arms in two hours. One
bale-fire: the English are in motion! Two: they are advancing!
Four in a row: they are of great strength! All men in arms west of
Edinburgh muster there! All eastward, at Haddington! And every
Englishman caught in Scotland is lawfully the prisoner of whoever
takes him!' (What am I saying? I love Englishmen, but the spell is
upon me!) `Come on, Macduff!' (The only suitable and familiar
challenge my warlike tenant can summon at the moment.) `I am the
son of a Gael! My dagger is in my belt, and with the guid
broadsword at my side I can with one blow cut a man in twain! My
bow is cut from the wood of the yews of Glenure; the shaft is from
the wood of Lochetive, the feathers from the great golden eagles of
Locktreigside! My arrowhead was made by the smiths of the race of