"'Twas in spring, when winter tide
With his blasts, terrible to bide
Was overcome; and birdies small,
As throstle and the nightingale,
Began right merrily to sing,
And to make in their singing
Sundrie notes, and varied sounds,
And melody pleasant to hear,
And the trees began to blow
With buds, and bright blossom also,
To win the covering of their heads
Which wicked winter had them riven,
And every grove began to spring."

It was in spring that Bruce and his men gathered to the island of
Arran, off the west coast of Scotland, and there Bruce made up
his mind to make another fight for the crown. A messenger was
therefore sent over to the mainland, and it was arranged that if
he found friends there, if he thought it was safe for the King to
come, he should, at a certain place, light a great fire as a
signal. Anxiously Bruce watched for the light, and at last he
saw it. Then joyfully the men launched their boat, and the King
and his few faithful followers set out.

"They rowed fast with all their might,
Till that upon them fell the night,
That it wox mirk* in great manner
So that they wist not where they were,
For they no needle had, nor stone,