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THE 
 
 LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 g Mnm, 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT, Wvfc > 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 HENRY CAREY BAIRD, 
 
 (successor to E. L. CAREY,) 
 No. 7 HAETS BUILDINGS, SIXTH STREET, ABOVE CHESTNUT. 
 
 1854. 
 
f^^^^STEBu 
 
 
 j m s •--- 
 
 
 PrriT^y ijr H. .£^ ic r. G. CoHma. 
 
41-43693 
 
 THE MOST NOBLE 
 
 JOHN JAMES, MARQUIS OF ABERCOBX, 
 
 ETC., ETC., ETC., 
 
 THIS POEM IS INSCRIBED 
 
 FY THE AUTHOR. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 FIRST CANTO THE CHASE. 
 
 SECOND CANTO THE ISLAND. 
 
 THIRD CANTO THE GATHERING. 
 
 FOURTH CANTO THE PROPHECY. 
 
 FIFTH CANTO THE COMBAT. 
 
 SIXTH CANTO THE GUARD-ROOM 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 The scene of the following Poem is laid chiefly in the vicinity 
 of Loch-Katrine, in the Western Highlands of Perthshire. The 
 time of action includes six days, and the transactions of each 
 day occupy a canto. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 CANTO FIRST. 
 
 STUe G"!)nsc 
 
 Harp of the North! that mouldering long hast hung 
 
 On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring, 
 And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, 
 
 Till envious ivy did around thee cling. 
 Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — 
 
 minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep ? 
 Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring, 
 
 Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, 
 Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep ? 
 
 Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, 
 
 Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd, 
 
 When lay of hopeless love, or glory won. 
 Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud. 
 
14 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 At each according pause was heard aloud 
 
 Thine ardent symphony, sublime and high ! 
 Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bow'd ; 
 For still the burden of thy minstrelsy 
 Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye. 
 
 wake once more ! how rude soe'er the hand 
 
 That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; 
 wake once more ! though scarce my skill command 
 
 Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay: 
 Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, 
 
 And all unwoithy of thy nobler strain. 
 Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, 
 
 The wizard note has not been touch'd in vain. 
 Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again ; 
 
THE CHASE. 15 
 
 I. 
 
 The Stag at eve had drunk his fill, 
 
 Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, 
 
 And deep his midnight lair had made 
 
 In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; 
 
 But, when the sun his beacon red 
 
 Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, 
 
 The deep-mouth'd blood-hound's heavy bay 
 
 Resounded up the rocky way. 
 
 And faint, from farther distance borne. 
 
 Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 
 
 II. 
 
 As Chief, who hears his warder call, 
 
 « To arms ! the foemen storm the wall," 
 
 The antler'd monarch of the waste 
 
 Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 
 
 But, ere his fleet career he took, 
 
 The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; 
 
 Like crested leader proud and high, 
 
 Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky ; 
 
 A moment gazed adown the dale, 
 
 A moment snufT'd the tainted gale, 
 
 A moment listen'd to the cry. 
 
 That thicken'd as the chase drew nigh ; 
 
16 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Then, as the headmost foes appear'd, 
 With one brave bound the copse he clear'd, 
 And, stretching forward free and far. 
 Sought the wild heaths of Uam-"V ar. 
 
 III. 
 
 Yell'd on the view the opening pack. 
 Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back ; 
 To many a mingled sound at once 
 The awaken'd mountain gave response. 
 An hundred dogs bay'd deep and strong, 
 Clatter'd an hundred steeds along, 
 Their peal the merry horns rung out, 
 An hundred voices join'd the shout ; 
 With hark and whoop and wild halloo, 
 No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. 
 Far from the tumult fled the roe, 
 Close in her covert cower'd the doe, 
 The falcon, from her cairn on high, 
 Cast on the rout a v/ondering eye, 
 Till far beyond her piercing ken 
 The hurricane had swept the glen. 
 Faint, and more faint, its failing din 
 Return' d from cavern, cliff, and linn, 
 And silence settled, wide and still, 
 On the lone wood and mighty hill. 
 
THE CHASE. 17 
 
 IV. 
 
 Less loud the sounds of sylvan war 
 Disturb'd the heights of Uam-Var, 
 And roused the cavern, where 'tis told 
 A giant made his den of old ; 
 For ere that steep ascent was won, 
 High in his pathway hung the sun, 
 And many a gallant, stay'd perforce, 
 Was fain to breathe his faltering horse ; 
 And of the trackers of the deer 
 Scarce half the lessening pack was near ; 
 So shrewdly, on the mountain side. 
 Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 
 
 V. 
 
 The noble Stag was pausing now 
 Upon the mountain's southern brow, 
 Where broad extended, far beneath, 
 The varied ealms of fair Menteith. 
 With anxious eye he wander'd o'er 
 Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, 
 And ponder'd refuge from his toil. 
 By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 
 But nearer was the copse- wood gray, 
 That waved and wept on Loch-Achray, 
 And mingled with the pine-trees blue 
 On the bold clifis of Ben- venue. 
 
18 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Fresh vigour with the hope returir(], 
 With flying foot the heath he spurn'd 
 Held westward with unwearied race, 
 And left behind the panting chase. 
 
 'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, 
 As swept the hunt through Cambus-More ; 
 What reins were tighten'd in despair, 
 When rose Benledi's ridge in air ; 
 Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath, 
 Who shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith, — 
 For twice, that day, from shore to shore, 
 The gallant Stag swam stoutly o'er. 
 Few were the stragglers, following far. 
 That reach'd tlie lake of Vennachar ; 
 And when the Brigg of Turk was won, 
 The headmost horseman rode alone. 
 
 Alone, but with unbated zeal, 
 That horseman plied the scourge and steel 
 For, jaded now, and spent with toil, 
 Emboss'd with foam, and dark with soil, 
 "\Miile every gasp with sobs he drew. 
 The lab'ring Stag strain'd full in view. 
 
THE CHASE. 19 
 
 Two dogs of black St. IIuLerl's breed, 
 
 Unmatch'd for courage, breath, and speed, 
 
 Fast on his flying traces came. 
 
 And all but won that desperate game ; 
 
 For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, 
 
 Vindictive toil'd the blood-hounds staunch ; 
 
 Nor nearer might the dogs attain, 
 
 Nor farther might the quarry strain. 
 
 Thus up the margin of the lake. 
 
 Between the precipice and brake. 
 
 O'er stock and rock their race they take. 
 
 viir. 
 The hunter mark'd that mountain high, 
 The lone lake's western boundary. 
 And deem'd the Stag must turn to bay, 
 Where that huge rampart barr'd the way ; 
 Already glorying in the prize, 
 Measured his antlers with his eyes ; 
 For the death- wound, and death-halloo, 
 Muster'd his breath, his whinyard drew ; 
 But thundering as he came prepared, 
 With ready arm and weapon bared, 
 The wily quarry shunn'd the shock, 
 And turn'd him from th' opposing rock ; 
 Then, dashing down a darksome glen, 
 Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken, 
 
'>l^ THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 In the tleep Trosachs' wildest noolc 
 
 His solitary refuge took. 
 
 There, while close couch'd, the tliicket shed 
 
 Cold dews and wild flowers on his head, 
 
 He heard the baffled dogs in vain 
 
 Rave through the hollow pass amain, 
 
 Chiding the rocks tliat yell'd again. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Close on the hounds the hunter came, 
 To cheer them on the vanish'd game ; 
 But, stumbling in the rugged dell, 
 The gallant horse exhausted fell. 
 The impatient rider strove in vain 
 To rouse him with the spur and rein. 
 For tlie good steed, his labours o'er, 
 Stretch'd his stifl;' limbs to rise no mcve ; 
 Then, touch'd with pity and remorse. 
 He sorrowM o'er the expiring horse. 
 << I little thought, when first thy rein 
 I slack'd upon the banks of Seine, 
 That Highland eagle e'er should feed 
 On tliy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! 
 Wo worth the chase, wo worth the day. 
 That costs thy life, my gallant gray!" — 
 
THE CHASE. 21 
 
 X, 
 
 Then through the dell his horn resounds, 
 From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 
 Back limp'd, with slow and crippled pace. 
 The sulky leaders of the chase ; 
 Close to their master's side they press'd, 
 With drooping tail and humbled crest ; 
 But still the dingle's hollow throat 
 Prolong'd the swelling bugle note. 
 The owlets started from their dream, 
 The eagles answer'd with their scream ; 
 Round and around the sounds were cast, 
 Till echo seem'd an answering blast ; 
 And on the hunter hied his way, 
 To join some comrades of the day ; 
 Yet often paused, so strange the road. 
 So wondrous were the scenes it show'd. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The western waves of ebbing day 
 Roll'd o'er the glen their level way ; 
 Each purple peak, each flinty spire. 
 Was bathed in floods of living fire. 
 But not a settinof beam could How 
 Within the dark ravines below, 
 Wliere twined the path, in shadow hid. 
 Round many a rocky pyramid, 
 
22 THELADYOFTHELAKE. 
 
 Shooting abruptly from the dell 
 
 Its thunder-splinter'd pinnacle 
 
 Round many an insulated mass, 
 
 The native bulwarks of the pass, 
 
 Huge as the tower which builders vain 
 
 Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 
 
 The rocky summits, split and rent, 
 
 Form'd turret, dome, or battlement, 
 
 Or seem'd fantastically set 
 
 With cupola or minaret ; 
 
 Wild crests as pagod ever deck'd, 
 
 Or mosque of Eastern architect. 
 
 Nor were these earthborn castles bare, 
 
 Nor lack'd they many a banner fair ; 
 
 For, from their shiver'd brows displayed, 
 
 Far o'er the unfathomable glade, 
 
 All twinkling with the dew-drop sheen. 
 
 The briar-rose fell in streamers green. 
 
 And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, 
 
 Waved in the west- wind's summer sighs. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Boon nature scatter'd, free and wild, 
 Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. 
 Here eglantine embalm'd the air, 
 Hawthorn and hazel mingled there ; 
 
THECIIASE. 23 
 
 The primrose pale, and violet flower, 
 Found in each cliff a narrow bower; 
 Foxglove and nightshade, side by side, 
 Emblems of punishment and pride. 
 Group 'd their dark hues with every stain 
 The weather-beaten crags retain. 
 With boughs that quaked at every breath, 
 Gray birch and aspen wept beneath ; 
 Aloft, the ash and w'arrior oak 
 Cast anchor in the rifted rock; 
 And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 
 His shatter'd trunk, and frequent flung, 
 Where seem'd the cliffs to meet on high, 
 His boughs athwart the narrow'd sky. 
 Highest of all where white peaks glanced. 
 Where glist'ning streamers waved and danced 
 The wanderer's eye could barely view 
 The summer heaven's delicious blue ; 
 So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 
 The scenery of a fairy dreeim. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Onward, amid the copse, 'gan peep 
 A narrow inlet, still and deep, 
 Affording scarce such breadth of brim, 
 As served the wild-duck's brood to swim 
 
24 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Lost for a space, through thickets veering. 
 But broader when again appearing, 
 Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 
 Could on the dark-blue mirror trace ; 
 And, farther, as the hunter stray'd, 
 Still broader sweep its channels made. 
 The shaggy mounds no longer stood 
 Emerging from entangled wood, 
 But, wave-encircled, seem'd to float, 
 Like castle girdled with its moat ; 
 Yet broader floods extending still. 
 Divide them from their parent hill, 
 Till each, retiring, claims to be 
 An islet in an inland sea. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And now, to issue from the glen, 
 
 No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, 
 
 Unless he climb, with footing nice, 
 
 A far projecting precipice. 
 
 The broom's tough roots his ladder made, 
 
 The hazel saplings lent their aid ; 
 
 And thus an airy point he won. 
 
 Where, gleaming with the setting sun, 
 
 One burnish'd sheet of living gold. 
 
 Loch- Katrine low beneath him roll'd ; 
 
THE CHASE. 
 
 In all her length far winding lay, 
 
 With promontory, creek, and bay, 
 
 And islands that, empurpled bright, 
 
 Floated amid the livelier light ; 
 
 And mountains, that like giants stand, 
 
 To sentinel enchanted land. 
 
 High on the south huge Ben-venue 
 
 Down on the lake in masses threw 
 
 Crags, knolls, and mounds, confus'dly hurl'd, 
 
 The fragments of an earlier world. 
 
 A wildering forest feather'd o'er 
 
 His ruin'd sides and summit hoar, 
 
 Wliile on the north, through middle air, 
 
 Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. 
 
 XV. 
 
 From the steep promontory gazed 
 
 The stranger, raptured and amazed. 
 
 And, " What a scene were here," he cried, 
 
 " For princely pomp or churchman's pride ! 
 
 On this bold brow a lordly tower ; 
 
 In that soft vale a lady's bower ; 
 
 On yonder meadow, far away, 
 
 The turrets of a cloister gray. 
 
 How blithely might the bugle horn 
 
 Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn ! 
 
23 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute 
 
 Chime, when the groves were still and mute ! 
 
 And, when the midnight moon should lave 
 
 Her forehead in the silver wave, 
 
 How solemn on the ear would come 
 
 The holy matin's distant hum, 
 
 WTiile the deep peal's commanding tone 
 
 Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 
 
 A sainted hermit from his cell. 
 
 To drop a bead with every knell — 
 
 And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, 
 
 Should each bewilder'd stranger call 
 
 To friendly feast, and lighted hall. 
 
 " Blithe were it then to wander here ! 
 But now, — beshrew yon nimble deer, — 
 Like that same hermit's, thin and spare, 
 The copse must give my evening fare ; 
 Some mossy bank my couch must be. 
 Some rustling oak my canopy. 
 Yet pass we that ; — the war and chase 
 Give little choice of resting-place; — 
 A summer night, in green-wood spent, 
 Were but to-morrow's merriment ; 
 But hosts may in these wilds abound, 
 Such as are better miss'd than found. 
 
THE CHASE. 27 
 
 To meet with Highland plunderers here 
 Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — 
 I am alone ; my bugle strain 
 May call some straggler of the train ; 
 Or, fall the worst that may betide, 
 Ere now this faulchion has been tried." 
 
 xvn. 
 
 But scarce again his horn he wound, 
 
 When lo ! forth starting at the sound, 
 
 From underneath an aged oak, 
 
 That slanted from the islet rock, 
 
 A Damsel, guider of its way, 
 
 A little skiff shot to the bay, 
 
 That round the promontorj- steep 
 
 Led its deep line in graceful sweep, 
 
 Eddying, in almost \-iewless wave. 
 
 The weeping willow twig to lave. 
 
 And kiss, with whispering sound and slow. 
 
 The beach of pebbles bright as snow. 
 
 The boat had touch'd this silver strand. 
 
 Just as the hunter left his stand, 
 
 And stood conceal'd amid the brake. 
 
 To view this Lady of the Lake. 
 
 The maiden paused, as if again 
 
 She thought to catch the distant strain. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 With head upraised, and look intent. 
 And eye and ear attentive bent, 
 And locks flung back, and lips apart, 
 Like monument of Grecian art, 
 In list'ning mood, she seem'd to stand 
 The guardian Naiad of the strand. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 
 
 A nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 
 
 Of finer form, or lovelier face ! 
 
 What though the sun, with ardent frown. 
 
 Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — 
 
 The sportive toil, which, short and light, 
 
 Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, 
 
 Served too in hastier swell to show 
 
 Short glimpses of a breast of snow. 
 
 What though no rule of courtly grace 
 
 To measured mood had train'd her pace, — 
 
 A foot more light, a step more true. 
 
 Ne'er from the heath-flower dash'd the dew ; 
 
 E'en the slight hare-bell raised its head, 
 
 Elastic from her airy tread. 
 
 What though upon her speech there hung 
 
 The accents of the mountain tongue, — 
 
 Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, 
 
 The list'ner held his breath to hear. 
 
THE CHASE. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 A chieftain's daughter seem'd the maid ; 
 
 Her satin snood, her silken plaid, 
 
 Her golden brooch, such birth betray'd. 
 
 And seldom was a snood amid 
 
 Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, 
 
 Whose glossy black to shame might bring 
 
 The plumage of the raven's wing ; 
 
 And seldom o'er a breast so fair 
 
 Mantled a plaid with modest care, 
 
 And never brooch the fold combined 
 
 Above a heart more good and kind. 
 
 Her kindness and her worth to spy, 
 
 You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; 
 
 Not Katrine, in her mirror blue, 
 
 Gives back the shaggy banks more true, 
 
 Than every free-born glance confess'd 
 
 The guileless movements of her breast ; 
 
 Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 
 
 Or wo or pity claim'd a sigh, 
 
 Or filial love was glowing there. 
 
 Or meek devotion pour'd a prayer, 
 
 Or tale of injury call'd forth 
 
 The indignant spirit of the north. 
 
 One only passion, unreveal'd. 
 
 With maiden pride the maid conceal'd, 
 
30 THELADYOFTHELAKE. 
 
 Yet not less purely felt the flame ; — 
 need I tell that passion's name ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 Impatient of the silent horn, 
 
 Now on the gale her voice was borne : 
 
 ''Father!" she cried; the rocks around 
 
 Loved to prolong the gentle sound. 
 
 Awhile she paused, no answer came. — 
 
 <' Malcolm, was thine the blast ?" The name 
 
 Less resolutely utter'd fell, 
 
 The echoes could not catch the swell. 
 
 " A stranger I," the Huntsman said, 
 
 Advancing from the hazel shade. 
 
 The maid, alarm'd, with hasty oar 
 
 Push'd her light shallop from the shore, 
 
 And when a space was gain'd between, 
 
 Closer she drew her bosom screen, 
 
 (So forth the startled swan would swing. 
 
 So turn to prune his ruffled wing ;) 
 
 Then safe, though flutter'd and amazed, 
 
 She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 
 
 Not his the form, nor his the eye. 
 
 That youthful maidens wont to fly. 
 
THE CHASE. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 On his bold visage middle age 
 
 Had slightly press'd its signet sage, 
 
 Yet had not quench'd the open truth, 
 
 And fiery vehemence of youth ; 
 
 Forward and frolic glee was there, 
 
 The will to do, the soul to dare. 
 
 The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 
 
 Of hasty love, or headlong ire. 
 
 His limbs w^ere cast in manly mould. 
 
 For hardy sports, or contest bold ; 
 
 And though in peaceful garb array'd, 
 
 And weaponless, except his blade, 
 
 His stately mien as w^ell implied 
 
 A high-born heart, a martial pride, 
 
 As if a baron's crest he wore. 
 
 And sheathed in armour trod the shore. 
 
 Slighting the petty need he show^'d. 
 
 He told of his benighted road ; 
 
 His ready speech flow'd fair and free, 
 
 In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; 
 
 Yet seem'd that tone, and gesture bland. 
 
 Less used to sue than to command. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Awhile the maid the Stranger eyed. 
 And, reassured, at length replied. 
 
32 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 That Highland halls were open still 
 To wilder'd wanderers of the hill. 
 " Nor think you unexpected come 
 To yon lone Isle, our desert home ; 
 Before the heath had lost the dew, 
 This morn, a couch was pull'd for you ; 
 On yonder mountain's purple head 
 Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled. 
 And our broad nets have swept the mere, 
 To furnish forth your evening cheer." — 
 <<Now, by the rood, my lovely maid. 
 Your courtesy has err'd," he said: 
 " No right have I to claim, misplaced, 
 The welcome of expected guest. 
 A wanderer here, by fortune tost, 
 My way, my friends, my courser lost, 
 I ne'er before, believe me, fair, 
 Have ever drawn your mountain air. 
 Till on this lake's romantic strand, 
 I found a fay in fairy land." — 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " I well believe," the maid replied. 
 As her light skiff approach' d the side, — 
 « I well believe, that ne'er before 
 Your foot has trod Loch-Katrine's shore ; 
 
THE CHASE. 
 
 But yet, as far as yesternight, 
 
 Old Allan-bane foretold your plight, — 
 
 A gray-hair' d sire, whose eye intent 
 
 Was on the vision'd future bent. 
 
 He saw your steed, a dappled gray, 
 
 Lie dead beneath the birchen way ; 
 
 Painted exact your form and mien. 
 
 Your hunting suit of Lincoln green, 
 
 That tassell'd horn so gaily gilt, 
 
 That faulchion's crooked blade and hilt, 
 
 That cap with heron plumage trim, 
 
 And yon two hounds so dark and grim. 
 
 He bade them all should ready be. 
 
 To grace a guest of fair degree ; 
 
 But light I held his prophecy. 
 
 And deem'd it was my father's horn. 
 
 Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne." — 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The Stranger smiled :■ — " Since to your home 
 A destined errant knight I come, 
 Announced by prophet sooth and old, 
 Doom'd, doubtless, for achievement bold, 
 I'll lightly front each high emprise, 
 For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 
 Permit me, first, the task to guide 
 Your fairy frigate o'er the tide." — 
 
34 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The maid, with smile suppress'd and sly, 
 
 The toil unwonted saw him try ; 
 
 For seldom, sure, if e'er before. 
 
 His noble hand had grasp'd an oar : 
 
 Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, 
 
 And o'er the lake the shallop flew; 
 
 With heads erect, and whimpering cry, 
 
 The hounds behind their passage ply. 
 
 Nor frequent does the bright oar break 
 
 The darkening mirror of the lake, 
 
 Until the rocky isle they reach. 
 
 And moor their shallop on the beach. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The Stranger view'd the shore around ; 
 'Twas all so close with copse-wood bound, 
 Nor track nor pathway might declare 
 That human foot frequented there. 
 Until the mountain-maiden show'd 
 A clambering unsuspected road, 
 That winded through the tangled screen. 
 And open'd on a narrow green, 
 Where weeping birch and willow round 
 With their long fibres swept the ground. 
 Here, for retreat in dangerous hour. 
 Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 
 
THECHASE. 35 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 It was a lodge of ample size, 
 
 But strange of structure and device ; 
 
 Of such materials as around 
 
 The workman's hand had readiest found. 
 
 Lopp'd of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, 
 
 And by the hatchet rudely squared, 
 
 To give the walls their destined height, 
 
 The sturdy oak and ash unite ; 
 
 While moss and clay and leaves combined 
 
 To fence each crevice from the wind. 
 
 The lighter pine-trees, over head, 
 
 Their slender length for rafters spread, 
 
 And wither'd heath and rushes dry 
 
 Supplied a russet canopy. 
 
 Due westward, fronting to the green, 
 
 A rural portico was seen, 
 
 Aloft on native pillars borne, 
 
 Of mountain fir with bark unshorn, 
 
 Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine 
 
 The ivy and Idsean vine, 
 
 The clematis, the favour'd flower 
 
 Wliich boasts the name of virgin-bower, 
 
 And every hardy plant could bear 
 
 Loch-Katrine's keen and searching air. 
 
 An instant in this porch she stay'd. 
 
 And gaily to the Stranger said, 
 
36 THE LADY OF THE LAK 
 
 «' On heaven and on thy lady call, 
 And enter the enchanted hall!" — 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 « My hope, my heaven, my trust must be. 
 My gentle guide, in following thee." — 
 He cross'd the threshold — and a clang 
 Of angry steel that instant rang. 
 To his bold brow his spirit rush'd, 
 But soon for vain alarm he blush'd, 
 When on the floor he saw display'd, 
 Cause of the din, a naked blade, 
 Dropp'd from the sheath, that careless flung 
 Upon a stag's huge antlers swung ; 
 For all around, the walls to grace. 
 Hung trophies of the fight or chase : 
 A target there, a bugle here, 
 A battle-axe, a hunting spear. 
 And broad-swords, bows, and arrows store, 
 "With the tusk'd trophies of the boar. 
 Here grins the wolf as when he died, 
 And there the wild cat's brindled hide 
 The frontlet of the elk adorns. 
 Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ; 
 Pennons and flags defaced and stain'd, 
 That blackening streaks of blood retain'd, 
 
THECHASE. 37 
 
 And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, 
 With otter's fur and seal's, unite, 
 In rude and uncouth tapestry all. 
 To garnish forth the sylvan hall. 
 
 xxriii. 
 The wondering Stranger round him gazed. 
 And next the fallen weapon raised ; — 
 Few were the arms whose sinew^y strength 
 Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. 
 And as the brand he pois'd and sway'd, 
 " I never knew but one," he said, 
 '( Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield 
 A blade like this in battle-field." — 
 Sne sigh'dj then smiled and took the word; 
 « You see the guardian champion's sword ; 
 As light it trembles in his hand. 
 As m my grasp a hazel wand ; 
 My sire's tall form might grace the part 
 Of Ferragus, or Ascabart ; 
 But in the absent giant's hold 
 Are women now, and menials old." — 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The mistress of the mansion came, 
 Mature of age, a graceful dame ; 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Whose easy step and stately port 
 
 Had well become a princely court, 
 
 To whom though more than kindrea knew, 
 
 Young Ellen gave a mother's due. 
 
 Meet welcome to her guest she made, 
 
 And every courteous rite was paid 
 
 That hospitality could claim, 
 
 Though all unask'd his birth and name. 
 
 Such then the reverence to a guest, 
 
 That fellest foe might join the feast. 
 
 And from his deadliest foeman's door 
 
 Unquestion'd turn, the banquet o'er. 
 
 At length his rank the Stranger names, 
 
 "The knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz- James 
 
 Lord of a barren heritage, 
 
 VNTiich his brave sires, from age to age. 
 
 By their good swords had held with toil ; 
 
 His sire had fallen in such turmoil. 
 
 And he, God wot, was forced to stand 
 
 Oft for his right with blade in hand. 
 
 This morning with Lord Moray's tram 
 
 He chased a stalwart stag in vain, 
 
 Outstripp'd his comrades, miss'd the deer, 
 
 Lost his good steed, and wander'd here." — 
 
THE CHASE. 39 
 
 Fain would the Knight in turn require 
 The name and state of Ellen's sire ; 
 Well show'd the elder lady's mien, 
 That courts and cities she had seen : 
 Ellen, though more her looks display'd 
 The simple grace of sylvan maid, 
 In speech and gesture, form and face, 
 Show'd she was come of gentle race ; 
 'Twere strange in ruder rank to find 
 Such looks, such manners, and such mind. 
 Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave. 
 Dame Margaret heard with silence grave ; 
 Or Ellen, innocently gay, 
 Turn'd all inquiry light away ; 
 "Wierd women we ! by dale and down 
 We dwell, afar from tower and town. 
 We stem the flood, we ride the blast. 
 On wandering knights our spells we cast ; 
 While viewless minstrels touch the string, 
 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing." — 
 She sung, and still a harp unseen 
 Fill'd up the symphony between. 
 
40 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XXXI. 
 SONG. 
 
 " Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, 
 
 Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; 
 Dream of battled fields no more, 
 
 Days of danger, nights of waking. 
 In our isle's enchanted hall, 
 
 Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, 
 Fairy strains of music fall, 
 
 Every sense in slumber dewing. 
 Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, 
 Dream of fighting fields no more ; 
 Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
 Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 
 
 " No rude sound shall reach thine ear, 
 
 Armour's clang, or war-steed champing. 
 Trump nor pibroch summon here 
 
 Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. 
 Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 
 
 At the daybreak from the fallow. 
 And the bittern sound his drum. 
 
 Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
 Ruder sounds shall none be near. 
 Guards nor warders challenge here, 
 Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, 
 Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping." 
 
THE CHASE. 
 
 41 
 
 xxxn. 
 She paused — then, blushing, led the lay 
 To grace the stranger of the day. 
 Her mellow notes awhile prolong 
 The cadence of the flowing song, 
 Till to her lips in measured frame 
 The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 
 
 SONG CONTINUED. 
 
 ' Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, 
 
 While our slumbrous spells assail ye, 
 Dream not, with the rising sun. 
 
 Bugles here shall sound reveillie. 
 Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; 
 
 Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying ; 
 Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen. 
 
 How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
 Huntsman, rest ; thy chase is done, 
 Think not of the rising sun. 
 For at dawning to assail ye, 
 Here no bugles sound reveillie." 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The hall was clear'd— the Stranger's bed 
 Was there of mountain heather spread, 
 Where oft an hundred guests had lain. 
 And dream'd their forest sports again. 
 
12 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 But vainly did the heath-flower shed 
 
 Its moorland fragrance round his head ; 
 
 Not Ellen's spell had lull'd to rest 
 
 The fever of his troubled breast. 
 
 In broken dreams the image rose 
 
 Of varied perils, pains, and woes ; 
 
 His steed now flounders in the brake, 
 
 Now sinks his barge upon the lake ; 
 
 Now leader of a broken host, 
 
 His standard falls, his honour's lost. 
 
 Then, — from my couch may heavenly might 
 
 Chase that worse phantom of the night ! — 
 
 Again return'd the scenes of youth. 
 
 Of confident undoubting truth ; 
 
 Again his soul he interchanged 
 
 With friends whose hearts were long estranged. 
 
 They come, in dim procession led. 
 
 The cold, the faithless, and the dead ; 
 
 As warm each hand, each brow as gay, 
 
 As if they parted yesterday. 
 
 And doubt distracts him at the view, 
 
 were his senses false or true ! 
 
 Dream'd he of death, or broken vow, 
 
 Or is it all a vision now ! 
 
THE CHASE. 43 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 At length with Ellen in a grove 
 
 He seem'd to walk, and speak of love ; 
 
 She listen'd with a blush and sigh, 
 
 His suit was warm, his hopes were high. 
 
 He sought her yielded hand to clasp, 
 
 And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : 
 
 The phantom's sex was changed and gone, 
 
 Upon its head a helmet shone ; 
 
 Slowly enlarged to giant size, 
 
 With darken'd cheek and threatening eyes. 
 
 The grisly visage, stern and hoar, 
 
 To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 
 
 He woke, and, panting with affright, 
 
 Recall'd the vision of the night. 
 
 The hearth's decaying brands were red, 
 
 And deep and dusky lustre shed. 
 
 Half showing, half concealing all 
 
 The uncouth trophies of the hall. 
 
 Mid those the Stranger fixed his eye 
 
 Where that huge faulchion hung on high, 
 
 And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, 
 
 Rush'd, chasing countless thoughts along, 
 
 Until, the giddy whirl to cure, 
 
 He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. 
 
44 THE LADYOFTHE LAKE. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 The wild rose, eglantine, and broom. 
 Wasted around their rich perfume ; 
 The birch trees wept in fragrant balm, 
 The aspen slept beneath the calm ; 
 The silver light, wdth quivering glance, 
 Play'd on the water's still expanse, — 
 Wild were the heart whose passion's sway 
 Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 
 He felt its calm, that warrior guest, 
 While thus he communed with his breast : 
 " Why is it at each turn I trace 
 Some memory of that exiled race ? 
 Can I not mountain maiden spy, 
 But she must bear the Douglas eye ? 
 Can I not view a Highland brand. 
 But it must match the Douglas hand ? 
 Can I not frame a fever'd dream. 
 But still the Douglas is the theme ?~- 
 I'll dream no more — by manly mind 
 Not even in sleep is will re^ign'd. 
 My midnight orisons said o'er, 
 I'll turn to rest, and dream no more." — 
 His midnight orison he told, 
 A prayer with every bead of gold, 
 
THE CHASE. 45 
 
 Consign'd to heaven his cares and woes, 
 And sunk in undisturb'd repose ; 
 Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, 
 And morning dawn'd on Ben-venue. 
 
 END t^F CANTO FIRST. 
 
CANTO SECOND, 
 
 EJe EsIaiiU. 
 
 I. 
 
 At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 
 
 'Tis morning prompts the linnets blithest lay, 
 All Nature's children feel the matin spring 
 
 Of life reviving, with reviving day ; 
 And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 
 
 Wafting the Stranger on his way again, 
 Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray, 
 
 And sweetly o'er the lake w^as heard thy strain, 
 Mix'd with the sounding harp, white-hair'd Allan-Bane ! 
 
 II. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 « Not faster yonder rowers' might 
 
 Fling from their oars the spray. 
 Not faster yonder rippling bright, 
 That tracks the shallop's course in light, 
 
 Melts in the lake away, 
 
 % 46 
 
THE ISLAND. 
 
 Than men from memory erase 
 
 The benefits of former days ; 
 
 Then, Stranger, go ! good speed the while, 
 
 Nor think again of the lonely isle. 
 
 High place to thee in royal court, 
 
 High place in battled line. 
 Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport, 
 Where Beauty sees the brave resort 
 
 The honour'd meed be thine ! 
 True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, 
 Thy lady constant, kind and dear, 
 And lost in love's and friendship's smile, 
 Be memory of the lonely isle." 
 
 SONG CONTINUED. 
 
 « But if beneath yon southern sky 
 
 A plaided stranger roam, 
 Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh. 
 And sunken cheek and heavy eye. 
 
 Pine for his Highland home ; 
 Then, warrior, then be thine to show 
 The care that soothes a wanderer's wo ; 
 Remember then thy hap erewhile, 
 A stranger in the lonely isle. 
 
48 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 «' Or if on life's uncertain main 
 
 Mishap shall mar thy sail ; 
 If, faithful, wise, and brave in vain, 
 Wo, want, and exile thou sustain 
 
 Beneath the fickle gale ; 
 Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, 
 On thankless courts, or friends estranged, 
 But come where kindred worth shall smile, 
 To greet thee in the lonely isle." — 
 
 As died the sounds upon the tide. 
 The shallop reach'd the main-land side, 
 And ere his onward way he took. 
 The Stranger cast a lingering look, 
 Where easily his eye might reach 
 The Harper on the islet beach, 
 Reclined against a blighted tree. 
 As wasted, gray, and worn as he. 
 To minstrel meditation given. 
 His reverend brow was raised to heaven, 
 As from the rising sun to claim 
 A sparkle of inspiring flame. 
 His hand, reclined upon the wire, 
 Seem'd watching the awakening fire ; 
 So still he sate, as those who wait 
 Till judgment speak the doom of fate ; 
 
THE ISLAND. 
 
 So still, as if no breeze might dare 
 To lift one lock of hoary hair ; 
 So still, as life itself were fled, 
 In the last sound his harp had sped. 
 
 V. 
 
 Upon a rock with lichens wild. 
 Beside him Ellen sate and smiled. 
 Smiled she to see the stately drake 
 Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, 
 While her vex'd spaniel, from the beach, 
 Bay'd at the prize beyond his reach ? 
 Yet tell me then the maid who knows, 
 Why deepen'd on her cheek the rose ? — 
 Forgive, forgive. Fidelity ! 
 Perchance the maiden smiled to see 
 Yon parting lingerer wave adieu. 
 And stop and turn to wave anew ; 
 And, lovely ladies, ere your ire 
 Condemn the heroine of my lyre, 
 Show me the fair would scorn to spy 
 And prize such conquest of her eye ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 While yet he loiter'd on the spot, 
 It seem'd as Ellen mark'd him not , 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 But when he turn'd him to the glade, 
 One courteous parting sign she made ; 
 And after, oft the Knight would say, 
 That not when prize of festal day 
 Was dealt him by the brightest fair, 
 Who e'er wore jewel in her hair. 
 So highly did his bosom swell, 
 As at that simple, mute farewell. 
 Now with a trusty mountain guide. 
 And his dark stag-hounds by his side, 
 He parts — the maid, unconscious still, 
 Watch'd him wind slowly round the hill ; 
 But when his stately form was hid, 
 The guardian in her bosom chid — 
 << Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid !" 
 'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said, 
 " Not so had Malcolm idly hung 
 On the smooth phrase of southern tongue : 
 Not so had Malcolm strain 'd his eye. 
 Another step than thine to spy. — 
 Wake, Allan-bane," aloud she cried, 
 To the old Minstrel by her side, 
 « Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! 
 I'll give thy harp heroic theme, 
 And warm thee with a noble name ; 
 Pour forth the glory of the Graeme." 
 
THE ISLAND. « 
 
 Scarce from her lip the word had rush'd, 
 When deep the conscious maiden blush'd; 
 For of his clan, in hall and bower, 
 Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Minstrel waked his harp — three times 
 Arose the well-known martial chimes, 
 And thrice their high heroic pride 
 In melancholy murmurs died. 
 — "Vainly thou bid'st, noble maid," 
 Clasping his wither'd hands, he said, 
 "Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain, 
 Though all unwont to bid in vain. 
 
 Alas ! than mine a mightier hand 
 
 Has tuned my harp, my strings has spann'd ! 
 I touch the chords of joy, but low 
 
 And mournful answer notes of wo ; 
 
 And the proud march which victors tread 
 
 Sinks in the wailing for the dead. — 
 
 well for me, if mine alone 
 
 That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! 
 
 If, as my tuneful fathers said. 
 
 This harp, which erst Saint Modan sway'd, 
 
 Can thus its master's fate foretell. 
 
 Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ! 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But ah ! dear lady, thus it sigh'd 
 
 The eve thy sainted mother died ; 
 
 And such the sounds which, while I strove 
 
 To wake a lay of war or love. 
 
 Came marring all the festal mirth, 
 
 Appalling me who gave them birth, 
 
 And, disobedient to my call, 
 
 Wail'd loud through Bothwell's banner'd hall, 
 
 Ere Douglasses, to ruin driven, 
 
 Were exiled from their native heaven. — 
 
 Oh ! if yet worse mishap and wo 
 
 My master's house must undergo. 
 
 Or aught but weal to Ellen fair. 
 
 Brood in these accents of despair. 
 
 No future bard, sad Harp ! shall fling 
 
 Triumph or rapture from thy string ; 
 
 One short, one final strain shall flow, 
 
 Fraught with unutterable wo, 
 
 Then shiver'd shall thy fragments lie. 
 
 Thy master cast him down anH die." — 
 
 Mine honour'd friend, the fears of age ; 
 
 All melodies to thee are known, 
 
 That harp has rung, or pipe has blown, 
 
THE ISLAND. 53 
 
 In Lowland vale or Highland glen, 
 
 From Tweed to Spey — what marvel, then, 
 
 At times, unbidden notes should rise. 
 
 Confusedly bound in memory's ties. 
 
 Entangling, as they rush along. 
 
 The war-march with the funeral song ? — 
 
 Small ground is now for boding fear ; 
 
 Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. 
 
 My sire, in native virtue great, 
 
 Resigning lordship, lands, and state, 
 
 Not then to fortune more resign'd, 
 
 Than yonder oak might give the wund ; 
 
 The graceful foliage storms may reave, 
 
 The noble stem they cannot grieve. 
 
 For me," — she stoop'd, and, looking round, 
 
 Pluck'd a blue hare-bell from the ground, 
 
 '< For me, whose memory scarce conveys 
 
 An image of more splendid days. 
 
 This little flower that loves the lea. 
 
 May well my simple emblem be ; 
 
 It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose 
 
 That in the King's own garden grows ; 
 
 And when I place it in my hair, 
 
 Allan, a bard is bound to swear 
 
 He ne'er saw coronet so fair." — 
 
 Then playfully the chaplet wild 
 
 She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled. 
 
54 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 X. 
 
 Her smile, her speech, with winning sway. 
 
 Wiled the old harper's mood away. 
 
 With such a look as hermits throw 
 
 When angels stoop to soothe their wo, 
 
 He gazed till fond regret and pride 
 
 Thrill'd to a tear, then thus replied : 
 
 '< Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st 
 
 The rank, the honours thou hast lost ! 
 
 O might I live to see thee grace, 
 
 In Scotland's court, thy birthright place, 
 
 To see my favourite's step advance, 
 
 The lightest in the courtly dance. 
 
 The cause of every gallant's sigh. 
 
 And leading star of every eye, 
 
 And theme of every minstrel's art, 
 
 The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!"* 
 
 " Fair dreams are these," the maiden cried, 
 (Light was her accent, yet she sigh'd,) 
 «< Yet is this mossy rock to me 
 Worth splendid chair and canopy ; 
 Nor would my footstep spring more gay 
 In courtly dance than blithe strathspey, 
 
 ' The well-known cognisance of the Douglas family. 
 
THE ISLAND. 55 
 
 Nor half so pleased mine ear incline 
 To royal minstrel's lay as thine ; 
 And then for suitors proud and high, 
 To oend oefore my conquering eye, 
 Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt say, 
 That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 
 The Saxon scourge, Clan- Alpine's pride, 
 The terror of Loch-Lomond's side. 
 Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 
 A Lennox foray — for a day." 
 
 XII. 
 
 The ancient bard his glee repress'd : 
 " 111 hast thou chosen theme for jest ! 
 For who, through all this western wild, 
 Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled 
 In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; 
 I saw, when back the dirk he drew, 
 Courtiers give place before the stride 
 Of the undaunted homicide ; 
 And since, though outlaw'd, hath his hand 
 Full sternly kept his mountain land. 
 Who else dared give, — ah ! wo the day, 
 That I such hated truth should say, — 
 The Douglas, like a stricken deer, 
 Disown'd by every noble peer, 
 Even the rude refuge we have here ? 
 
56 THELADYOFTHELAKE. 
 
 Alas, this wild marauding chief 
 
 Alone might hazard our relief, 
 
 And now thy maiden charms expand, 
 
 Looks for his guerdon in thy hand ; 
 
 Full soon may dispensation sought, 
 
 To back his suit, from Rome be brought. 
 
 Then though an exile on the hill, 
 
 Thy father, as the Douglas, still 
 
 Be held in reverence and fear ; 
 
 And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear, 
 
 That thou might'st guide with silken thread, 
 
 Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread ; 
 
 Yet, loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! 
 
 Thy hand is on a lion's mane." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Minstrel," the maid replied, and high 
 Her father's soul glanced from her eye, 
 " My debts to Roderick's house I know : 
 All that a mother could bestow, 
 To Lady Margaret's care I owe. 
 Since first an orphan in the wild 
 She sorrow'd o'er her sister's child : 
 To her brave chieftain son, from ire 
 Of Scotland's King who shrouds my sire, 
 A deeper, holier debt is owed ; 
 And, could I pay it with my blood, 
 
THE ISLAND. 57 
 
 Allan ! Sir Roderick should command 
 My blood, my life, — but not my hand. 
 Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell 
 A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; 
 Rather through realms beyond the sea, 
 Seeking the world's cold charity, 
 Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, 
 And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, 
 An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 
 Than wed the man she cannot love. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 «< Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses gray — 
 
 That pleading look, what can it say 
 
 But what I own ? — I grant him brave, 
 
 But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave ; 
 
 And generous — save vindictive mood, 
 
 Or jealous transport, chafe his blood ; 
 
 I grant him true to friendly band, 
 
 As his claymore is to his hand ; 
 
 But ! that very blade of steel 
 
 More mercy for a foe would feel; 
 
 I grant him liberal, to fling 
 
 Among his clan the wealth they bring. 
 
 When back by lake and glen they wind, 
 
 And in the Lowland leave behind. 
 
58 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, 
 
 A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 
 
 The hand that for my father fought, 
 
 I honour, as his daughter ought ? 
 
 But can I clasp it reeking red, 
 
 From peasants slaughter'd in their shed ? 
 
 No ! wildly while his virtues gleam. 
 
 They make his passions darker seem. 
 
 And flash along his spirit high, 
 
 Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 
 
 While yet a child, — and children know. 
 
 Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — 
 
 I shudder'd at his brow of gloom. 
 
 His shadowy plaid, and sable plume ; 
 
 A maiden grown, I ill could bear 
 
 His haughty mien and lordly air ; 
 
 But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim, 
 
 In serious mood, to Roderick's name, 
 
 I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er 
 
 A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 
 
 To change such odious theme were best — 
 
 What think'st thou of our stranger guest ?" 
 
 XV. 
 
 "Wliat think I of him? — wo the while 
 That brought such wanderer to our isle ! 
 
THE ISLAND. 5f 
 
 Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 
 
 For Tineman forged by fairy lore, 
 
 What time he leagued, no longer foes, 
 
 His border spears with Hotspur's bows, 
 
 Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow 
 
 The footstep of a secret foe, 
 
 If courtly spy had harbour'd here, 
 
 What may ^ve for the Douglas fear ? 
 
 "VMiat for this island, deem'd of old 
 
 Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold ! 
 
 If neither spy nor foe, I pray 
 
 WTiat yet may jealous Roderick say ? 
 
 — Nay, wave not thy disdainful head ! 
 
 Bethink thee of the discord dread, 
 
 That kindled when at Beltane game 
 
 Thou led'st the dance with Malcolm Graeme ; 
 
 Still, though thy sire the peace renew'd, 
 
 Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud; 
 
 Beware ! — But hark, what sounds are these ? 
 
 My dull ears catch no faltering breeze, 
 
 No weeping birch, nor aspens wake, 
 
 Nor breath is dimpling in the lake. 
 
 Still is the canna's* hoary beard, 
 
 Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 
 
 And hark again ! — some pipe of war 
 
 Sends the bold pibroch from afar." 
 
 * Cotton-grass. 
 
60 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Far up the lengthen'd lake were spied 
 Four darkening specks upon the tide, 
 That, slow, enlarging on the view, 
 Four mann'd and masted barges grew, 
 And bearing downwards from Glengyle, 
 Steer'd full upon the lonely isle ; 
 The point of Brianchoil they pass'd, 
 And, to the wnidward as they cast, 
 Against the sun they gave to shine 
 The bold Sir Roderick's banner'd Pine. 
 Nearer and nearer as they bear, 
 Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. 
 Now might you see the tartans brave, 
 And plaids and plumage dance and wave ; 
 Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 
 As his tough oar the rower plies ; 
 See flashing at each sturdy stroke, 
 The wave ascending into smoke ; 
 See the proud pipers on the bow, 
 And mark the gaudy streamers flow 
 From their loud chanters* down, and sweep 
 The furrow'd bosom of the deep, 
 As rushing through the lake amain, 
 They plied the ancient Highland stram. 
 
 * The drone of the bag-pipe. 
 
THE ISLAND. Gl 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Ever, as on they bore, more loud 
 
 And louder rung the pibroch proud. 
 
 At first the sound, by distance tame, 
 
 Mellow'd along the waters came, 
 
 And lingering long by cape and bay, 
 
 Wail'd every harsher note away ; 
 
 Then bursting bolder on the ear, 
 
 The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear : 
 
 Those thrilling sounds, that call the might 
 
 Of old Clan- Alpine to the fight. 
 
 Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 
 
 The mustering hundreds shake the glen. 
 
 And hurrying at the signal dread, 
 
 The batter'd earth returns their tread. 
 
 Then prelude light, of livelier tone, 
 
 Express'd their merry marching on. 
 
 Ere peal of closing battle rose. 
 
 With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows ; 
 
 And mimic din of stroke and ward, 
 
 As broadsword upon target jarr'd ; 
 
 And groaning pause, ere yet again. 
 
 Condensed, the battle yell'd amain ; 
 
 The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 
 
 Retreat borne headlong into rout. 
 
 And bursts of triumph, to declare 
 
 Clan- Alpine's conquest — all were there. 
 
62 THE LADY OF -THE LAKE. 
 
 Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow, 
 Sunk in a moan prolonged and low, 
 And changed the conquering clarion swell. 
 For wild lament o'er those that fell. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The war-pipes ceased ; but lake and hill 
 Were busy with their echoes still ; 
 And, when they slept, a vocal strain 
 Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, 
 While loud a hundred clansmen raise 
 Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 
 Each boatmen, bending to his oar, 
 With measured sweep the burden bore. 
 In such wild cadence as the breeze 
 Makes tlirough December's leafless trees. 
 The chorus first could Allan know, 
 " Roderich Vich Alpine, ho ! iro !" 
 And near, and nearer as they row'd, 
 Distinct tlie martial ditty flow'd. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 BOAT SOXCi. 
 
 Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! 
 
 Honour'd and bless'd be the ever-green Pine ! 
 Long may the Tree in his banner that glances, 
 Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line ! 
 
THE ISLAND. 
 
 Heaven send it happy dew, 
 
 Earth lend it sap enew, 
 Gaily to bourgeon, and broadly to grow ; 
 
 While every Highland glen 
 
 Sends our shout back again, 
 " Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! ieroe !' 
 
 Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, 
 
 Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade : 
 When the whirlwind has stripp'd every leaf on the mountain, 
 The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. 
 
 Moor'd in the rifted rock, 
 
 Proof to the tempest's shock, 
 Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; 
 
 Menteith and Breadalbane, then. 
 
 Echo his praise again, 
 « Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! ieroe !" 
 
 XX. 
 
 Proudly our pibroch has trill'd in Glen Fruin, 
 
 And Banochar's groans to our Slogan replied ; 
 Glen Luss and Ross-Dhu, they are smoking in ruin. 
 And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side. 
 Widow and Saxon maid 
 Long shall lament our raid, 
 
64 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Think of Clan- Alpine with fear and with wo ; 
 
 Lennox and Leven-glen 
 
 Shake when they hear again, 
 " Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! ieroe !" 
 
 Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands ! 
 
 Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine ! 
 ! that the rose-bud that graces yon islands 
 
 Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine. 
 
 that some seedling gem, 
 
 Worthy such noble stem, 
 Honour'd and bless'd in their shadow, might grow! 
 
 Loud should Clan-Alpine then 
 
 Ring from her deepmost glen, 
 " Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! ieroe !" 
 
 XXI. 
 
 With all her joyful female band. 
 Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 
 Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, 
 And high their snowy arms they threw, 
 As echoing back with shrill acclaim. 
 And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name ; 
 Wliile, prompt to please, with mother's art, 
 The darling passion of his heart, 
 The dame call'd Ellen to the strand, 
 To greet her kinsman ere he land : 
 
THE ISLAND. 65 
 
 Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, 
 
 And shun to wreathe a victor's brow ?" 
 
 Reluctantly and slow, the maid 
 
 Th' unwelcome summoning obej'd, 
 
 And, when a distant bugle rung, 
 
 In the mid-path aside she sprung : 
 
 ii List, Allan-bane ! From main-land cast, 
 
 I hear my father's signal blast. 
 
 Be ours," she cried, '<the skiff to guide. 
 
 And waft him from the mountain side." 
 
 Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright, 
 
 She darted to her shallop light, 
 
 And, eagerly while Roderick scann'd, 
 
 For her dear form, his mother's band, 
 
 The islet far behind her lay. 
 
 And she had landed in the bay. 
 
 Some feelings are to mortals given 
 
 With less of earth in them than heaven ; 
 
 And if there be a human tear 
 
 From passion's dross refined and clear, 
 
 A tear so limpid and so meek. 
 
 It would not stain an angel's cheek, 
 
 'Tis that which pious fathers shed 
 
 Upon a duteous daughter's head! 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 And as the Douglas to his breast 
 His darling Ellen closely press'd, 
 Such holy drops her tresses steep'd, 
 Though 'twas an hero's eye that weep'd 
 Nor, while on Ellen's faltering tongue 
 Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 
 Mark'd she, that fear (affection's proof) 
 Still held a graceful youth aloof; 
 No ! not till Douglas named his name, 
 Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme. 
 
 Allan, with wistful look the while, 
 
 Mark'd Roderick landing on the isle ; 
 
 His master piteously he eyed. 
 
 Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride. 
 
 Then dash'd, with hasty hand, away 
 
 From his dimm'd eye the gathering spray ; 
 
 And Douglas, as his hand he laid 
 
 On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said, 
 
 " Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy 
 
 In my poor follower's glistening eye ? 
 
 I'll tell thee : — he recalls the day, 
 
 When in my praise he led the lay 
 
 O'er the arch'd gate of Bothwell proud, 
 
 While many a minstrel answer'd loud, 
 
THE ISLAND. 67 
 
 When Percy's Norman pennon, won 
 
 In bloody field, before me shone, 
 
 And twice ten knights, the least a name 
 
 As mighty as yon chief may claim. 
 
 Gracing my pomp, behind me came. 
 
 Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 
 
 Was I of all that marshall'd crowd, 
 
 Though the waned crescent own'd my might, 
 
 And in my train troop'd lord and knight, 
 
 Though Blantyre hymn'd her holiest lays, 
 
 And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise, 
 
 As when this old man's silent tear. 
 
 And this poor maid's affection dear, 
 
 A welcome give more kind and true 
 
 Than aught my better fortunes knew. 
 
 Forgive, my friend, a father's boast ; 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Delightful praise ! — like summer rose. 
 That brighter in the dew-drop glows. 
 The bashful maiden's cheek appear'd. 
 For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 
 The flush of shamefaced joy to hide. 
 The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide ; 
 The loved caresses of the maid 
 The dogs with crouch and whimper paid ; 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 And, at her whistle, on her hand 
 The falcon took his favourite stand. 
 Closed his dark wing, relax'd his eye, 
 Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 
 And, trust, while in such guise she stood. 
 Like fabled Goddess of the Wood, 
 That if a father's partial thought 
 O'erweigh'd her worth and beauty aught, 
 Well might the lover's judgment fail 
 To balance with a juster scale ; 
 For with each secret glance he stole, 
 The fond enthusiast sent his soul. 
 
 Of stature fair, and slender frame. 
 But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme ; 
 The belted plaid and tartan hose 
 Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose ; 
 His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, 
 Curl'd closely round his bonnet blue. 
 Train'd to the chase, his eagle eye 
 The ptarmigan in snow could spy ; 
 Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath. 
 He knew, through Lennox and Menteith ; 
 Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe. 
 When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, 
 
THE ISLAND. 
 
 And scarce that doe, though wing'd with fear, 
 
 Outstripp'd in speed the mountaineer : 
 
 Right up Ben-Lomond could he press, 
 
 And not a sob his toil confess. 
 
 His form accorded with a mind 
 
 Lively and ardent, frank and kind ; 
 
 A blither heart, till Ellen came, 
 
 Did never love nor sorrow tame. 
 
 It danced as lightsome in his breast, 
 
 As play'd the feather on his crest. 
 
 Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth, 
 
 His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, 
 
 And bards, who saw his features bold, 
 
 When kindled by the tales of old, 
 
 Said, were that youth to manhood grown. 
 
 Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown 
 
 Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, 
 
 But quail to that of Malcolm Grseme. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Now back they w'end their watery way, 
 And, " my sire !" did Ellen say, 
 «< Why urge thy chase so far astray ? 
 And why so late return'd? And why" — 
 The rest was in her speaking eye. 
 " My child, the chase I follow far, 
 'Tis mimicry of noble war ; 
 
70 THE LADYOF THE LAKE. 
 
 And with that gallant pastime reft, 
 Were all of Douglas I have left. 
 I met young Malcolm as I stray'd 
 Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade, 
 Nor stray'd I safe, for, all around, 
 Hunters and horsemen scour'd the ground. 
 This youth, though still a royal ward, 
 Risqued life and land to be my guard, 
 And through the passes of the wood 
 Guided my steps, not unpursued ; 
 And Roderick shall his welcome make, 
 Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. 
 Then must he seek Straih-Endrick glen, 
 Nor peril aught for me again." 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, 
 Redden'd at sight of Malcolm Graeme, 
 Yet, not in action, word, or eye, 
 Fail'd aught in hospitality. 
 In talk and sport they whiled away 
 The morning of that summer day ; 
 But at high noon a courier light 
 Held secret parley with the Knight, 
 Whose moody aspect soon declared. 
 That evil were the news he heard. 
 
THE ISLAND. 71 
 
 Deep thought seein'd toiling in his head ; 
 Yet was the evening banquet made. 
 Ere he assembled round the flame, 
 His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme, 
 And Ellen, too ; then cast around 
 His eyes, then fix'd them on the ground, 
 As studying phrase that might avail 
 Best to convey unpleasant tale. 
 Long with his dagger's hilt he play'd, 
 Then raised his haughty brow, and said : 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 << Short be my speech;' — nor time affords. 
 
 Nor my plain temper, glozing words. 
 
 Kinsman and father, — if such name 
 
 Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim ; 
 
 Mine honour'd mother ; Ellen — why, 
 
 My cousin, turn away thine eye ? — 
 
 And Graeme ; in whom I hope to know 
 
 Full soon a noble friend or foe. 
 
 When age shall give thee thy command, 
 
 And leading in thy native land, — 
 
 List all ! — The King's vindictive pride 
 
 Boasts to have tamed the border side, 
 
 Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came 
 
 To share their monarch's sylvan game, 
 
 Themselves in bloody toils were snared. 
 
72 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 And when the banquet they prepared, 
 
 And wide their loyal portals flung, 
 
 O'er their own gateway struggling hung. 
 
 Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead. 
 
 From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed, 
 
 Where the lone streams of Ettricke glide, 
 
 And from the silver Teviot's side ; 
 
 The dales, where martial clans did ride. 
 
 Are now" one sheepwalk waste and wide. 
 
 This tyrant of the Scottish throne, 
 
 So faithless, and so ruthless known, 
 
 Now hither comes ; his end the same, 
 
 The same pretext of sylvan game. 
 
 What grace for Highland chiefs judge ye, 
 
 By fate of Border chivalry. 
 
 Yet more ; amid Glenfinlas green, 
 
 Douglas, thy stately form was seen. 
 
 This by espial sure I know : 
 
 Your counsel in the strait I show." 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Ellen and Margaret fearfully 
 
 Sought comfort in each other's eye, 
 
 Then turn'd their ghastly look, each one, 
 
 This to her sire, that to her son. 
 
 The hasty colour went and came 
 
 In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme ; 
 
THE ISLAND. 
 
 But from his glance it well appear'd, 
 'Twas but for Ellen that he fear'd ; 
 While sorrowful, but undismay'd, 
 The Douglas thus his counsel said : 
 "Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar, 
 It may but thunder and pass o'er ; 
 Nor will I here remain an hour, 
 To draw the lightning on thy bower ; 
 For well thou know'st, at this gray head 
 The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 
 For thee, who, at thy Kmg's command, 
 Canst aid him with a gallant band, 
 Submission, homage, humbled pride, 
 Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside. 
 Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 
 Ellen and I will seek, apart. 
 The refuge of some forest cell ; 
 There, like the hunted quarry, dwell. 
 Till, on the mountain and the moor, 
 The stern pursuit be past and o'er." 
 
 XXX. 
 
 « No, by mine honour," Roderick said, 
 " So help me, heaven, and my good blade ! 
 No, never ! Blasted be yon pine. 
 My father's ancient crest, and mine, 
 
74 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 If from its shade in danger part 
 The lineage of the Bleeding Heart ! 
 Hear my blunt speech : grant me this maid 
 To wife, thy counsel to mine aid ; 
 To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu, 
 Will friends and allies flock enew. 
 Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 
 Will bind to us each western chief. 
 When the loud pipes my bridal tell, 
 The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, 
 The guards shall start in Stirling's porch ; 
 And, when I light the nuptial torch, 
 ' A thousand villages in flames, 
 
 Shall scare the slumbers of King James ? 
 — Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away, 
 And, mother, cease these signs, I pray; 
 I meant not all my heat might say. 
 Small need of inroad, or of fight, 
 When the sage Douglas may unite 
 Each mountain clan in friendly band, 
 To guard the passes of the land, 
 Till the foil'd King from pathless glen, 
 Shall bootless turn him home again." 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 There are who have, at midnight hour, 
 In slumber scaled a dizzy tower, 
 
THE ISLAND. 75 
 
 And, on the verge that beetled o'er 
 
 The ocean-tide's incessant roar, 
 
 Dream'd calmly out their dangerous dream, 
 
 Till waken'd by the morning beam ; 
 
 "When, dazzled by the eastern glow. 
 
 Such startler cast his glance below. 
 
 And saw unmeasured depth around, 
 
 And heard unintermitted sound. 
 
 And thought the battled fence so frail, 
 
 It waved like cobweb in the gale ; — 
 
 Amid his senses' giddy wheel. 
 
 Did he not desperate impulse feel, 
 
 Headlong to plunge himself below, 
 
 And meet the worst his fears foreshow ? — 
 
 Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound. 
 
 As sudden ruin yawn'd around. 
 
 By crossing terrors wildly toss'd. 
 
 Still for the Douglas fearing most, 
 
 Could scarce the desperate thought withstand, 
 
 To buy his safety with her hand. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy 
 In Ellen's quivering lip and eye, 
 And eager rose to speak — but ere 
 His tongue could hurry forth his fear, 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Had Douglas mark'd the hectic strife, 
 Where death seem'd combating with life : 
 For to her cheek, in feverish flood, 
 One instant rush'd the throbbing blood, 
 Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, 
 Left its domain as wan as clay. 
 <■<■ Roderick, enough ! enough !" he cried, 
 «< My daughter cannot be thy bride ; 
 Not that the blush to wooer dear, 
 Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 
 It may not be — forgive her. Chief, 
 Nor hazard aught for our relief. 
 Against his sovereign Douglas ne'er 
 Will level a rebellious spear. 
 'Twas I that taught his youthful hand 
 To rein a steed and wield a brand ; 
 I see him yet the princely boy ! 
 Not Ellen more my pride and joy. 
 I love him still, despite my wrongs, 
 By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues. 
 seek the grace you well may find, 
 Without a cause to mine combined." 
 
 XXXllI. 
 
 Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode 
 The waving of his tartans broad, 
 
THE ISLAND. 77 
 
 And darken'd brow, where wounded pride 
 With ire and disappointment vied, 
 Seem'd, by the torch's gloomy light, 
 Like the ill- Demon of the night. 
 Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway 
 Upon the nighted pilgrim's way: 
 But, unrequited Love ! thy dart 
 Plunged deepest its envenom'd smart. 
 And Roderick, with thine anguish stung. 
 At length the hand of Douglas wrung. 
 While eyes, that mock'd at tears before. 
 With bitter drops were running o'er. 
 The death-pangs of long-cherish'd hope 
 Scarce in that ample breast had scope. 
 But, struggling with his spirit proud, 
 Convulsive heaved its checker'd shroud. 
 While every sob — so mute were all — 
 Was heard distinctly through the hall. 
 The son's despair, the mother's look, 
 111 might the gentle Ellen brook ; 
 She rose, and to her side there came. 
 To aid her parting steps, the Graeme. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Then Roderick from the Douglas broke- 
 As flashes flame through sable smoke, 
 
78 THELADYOFTHELAKE. 
 
 Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, 
 
 To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, 
 
 So the deep anguish of despair 
 
 Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. 
 
 With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 
 
 On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid : 
 
 «' Back, beardless boy !" he sternly said, 
 
 « Back minion ! hold'st thou thus at naught 
 
 The lesson I so lately taught ? 
 
 This roof, the Douglas, and that maid. 
 
 Thank thou for punishment delay'd." 
 
 Eager as greyhound on his game, 
 
 Fiercely with Roderick grappled Grseme. 
 
 " Perish my name, if aught afford 
 
 Its chieftain safety save his sword !" 
 
 Thus as they strove, their desperate hand 
 
 Griped to the dagger or the brand. 
 
 And death had been — but Douglas rose. 
 
 And thrust between the struggling foes 
 
 His giant strength: — " Chieftains, forego ! 
 
 I hold the first who strikes, my foe. 
 
 Madmen, forbear your frantic jar ! 
 
 What ! is the Douglas fallen so far, 
 
 His daughter's hand is deem'd the spoil 
 
 Of such dishonourable broil !" 
 
 Sullen and slowly, they unclasp, 
 
 As struck with shame, their desperate grasp, 
 
THE ISLAND. 79 
 
 And each upon his rival glared, 
 
 With foot advanced, and blade half bared. 
 
 Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, 
 Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung. 
 And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream. 
 As falter'd through terrific dream. 
 Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, 
 And veil'd his wrath in scornful word. 
 « Rest safe till morning ; pity 'twere 
 Such cheek should feel the midnight air ! 
 Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell, 
 Roderick will keep the lake and fell. 
 Nor lackey, with his free-born clan. 
 The pageant pomp of earthly man. 
 More would he of Clan- Alpine know. 
 Thou canst our strength and passes show. — 
 Malise, what ho !" — his henchman came; 
 "Give our safe conduct to the Grreme." 
 Young Malcolm answer'd, calm and bold, 
 " Fear nothing for thy favourite hold ; 
 The spot, an angel deign'd to grace, 
 Is bless'd, though robbers haunt the place. 
 Thy churlish courtesy for those 
 Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 As safe to me the mountain way 
 At midnight as in blaze of day, 
 Though with his boldest at his back, 
 Even Roderick Dhu beset the track.— 
 Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay. 
 Nought here of parting will I say. 
 Earth does not hold a lonesome glen 
 So secret but we meet again. — 
 Chieftain! we too shall find an hour.' 
 He said, and left the sylvan bower. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Old Allan follow'd to the strand, 
 
 (Such was the Douglas's command,) 
 
 And anxious told, how, on the morn, 
 
 The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, 
 
 The Fiery Cross should circle o'er 
 
 Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor. 
 
 Much were the peril to the Graeme, 
 
 From those who to the signal came ; 
 
 Far up the lake 'twere safest land, 
 
 Himself would row him to the strand. 
 
 He gave his counsel to the wind. 
 
 While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind, 
 
 Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roll'd, 
 
 His ample plaid in tighten'd fold, 
 
THE ISLAND. gl 
 
 And stripp'd his limbs to such array, 
 As best might suit the watery way. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Then spoke abrupt : '« Farewell to thee, 
 Pattern of old fidelity !" 
 
 The minstrel's hand he kindly press'd, 
 
 " ! could I point a place of rest ! 
 My sovereign holds in ward my land, 
 My uncle leads my vassal band; 
 To tame his foes, his friends to aid. 
 Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. 
 Yet, if there be one faithful Grffime, 
 Who loves the Chieftain of his name. 
 Not long should honour'd Douglas dwell, 
 Like hunted stag in mountain cell ; 
 Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare, 
 I may not give the rest to air ! 
 Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him nought. 
 Not the poor service of a boat, 
 To waft me to yon mountain side." — 
 Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 
 Bold o'er the flood his head he bore. 
 And stoutly steer'd him from the shore ; 
 And Allan strain'd his anxious eye. 
 Far mid the lake his form to spy. 
 
S2 THE LADYOFTHE LAKE. 
 
 Darkening across each puny wave, 
 To which the moon her silver gave, 
 Fast as the cormorant could skim. 
 The swimmer plied each active limb ; 
 Then landing in the moonlight dell, 
 Loud shouted of his weal to tell. 
 The Minstrel heard the far halloo, 
 And joyful from the shore withdrew. 
 
 END OF CANTO SECOND. 
 
CANTO THIRD. 
 
 Srijc CJattjettixfl. 
 
 Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore 
 
 Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 
 And told our marvelling boyhood legends store, 
 
 Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or sea, 
 How are they blotted from the things that be ! 
 
 How few, all weak and wither'd of their force, 
 Wait, on the verge of dark eternity. 
 
 Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse. 
 To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless course. 
 Yet live there still who can remember well. 
 
 How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, 
 Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell. 
 
 And solitary heath, the signal knew ; 
 And fast the faithful clan around him drew, 
 
 What time the warning note was keenly wound, 
 What time aloft their kindred banner flew, 
 
 While clamorous war-pipes yell'd the gathering sound, 
 And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round, 
 
84 THE LADYOF THE LAKE. 
 
 II. 
 
 The summer dawn's reflected hue 
 
 To purple changed Loch-Katrine blue ; 
 
 Mildly and soft the western breeze 
 
 Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees, 
 
 And the pleased lake, like maiden coy 
 
 Trembled but dimpled not for joy ; 
 
 The mountain shadows on her breast 
 
 Were neither broken nor at rest ; 
 
 In bright uncertainty they lie, 
 
 Like future joys to Fancy's eye. 
 
 The water-lily to the light 
 
 Her chalice rear'd of silver bright ; 
 
 The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 
 
 Begeraro.'d with dew-drops, led her fawn ; 
 
 The gray mist left the mountain side. 
 
 The torrent show'd its glistening pride : 
 
 Invisible in flecked sky. 
 
 The lark sent down her revelry ; 
 
 The black-bird and the speckled thrush 
 
 Good-morrow gave from brake and bush; 
 
 In answer coo'd the cushat dove, 
 
 Her notes of peace, and rest, and love. 
 
 III. 
 No thought of peace, no thought of rest, 
 Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. 
 
THE GATHERING. gg 
 
 With sheathed broadsword in his hand, 
 Abrupt he naced the islet strand, 
 And eyed the rising sun, and laid 
 His hand on his impatient blade. 
 Beneath a rock, his vassals' care 
 Was prompt the ritual to prepare. 
 With deep and deathful meaning fraught ; 
 For such Antiquity had taught 
 Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 
 The Cross of Fire should take its road. 
 The shrinking band stood oft aghast 
 At the impatient glance he cast : — 
 Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 
 As, from the cliffs of Ben- venue. 
 She spread her dark sails on the wind. 
 And, high in middle heaven reclined, 
 With her broad shadow on the lake. 
 Silenced the warblers of the brake. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A heap of withered boughs was piled, 
 Of juniper and rowan wild, 
 Mingled with shivers from the oak. 
 Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. 
 Bryant, the Hermit, by it stood. 
 Barefooted, in his frock and hood, 
 
 H 
 
S6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 His grizzled beard and matted hair 
 
 Obscured a visage of despair ; 
 
 His naked arms and legs seam-'d o'er, 
 
 The scars of frantic penance bore. 
 
 That Monk, of savage form and face, 
 
 The impending danger of his race, 
 
 Had drawn from deepest solitude, 
 
 Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. 
 
 Not his the mien of Christian priest, 
 
 But Druid's, from the grave released. 
 
 Whose harden'd heart and eye might brook 
 
 On human sacrifice to look ; 
 
 And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore 
 
 Mix'd in the charms he mutter'd o'er. 
 
 The hallow'd creed gave only worse 
 
 And deadlier emphasis of curse ; 
 
 No peasant sought that hermit's prayer. 
 
 His cave the pilgrim shunn'd with care. 
 
 The eager huntsman knew his bound. 
 
 And in mid-chase call'd off his hound ; 
 
 Or if, in lonely glen or strath. 
 
 The desert dweller met his path, 
 
 He pray'd, and sign'd the cross between^ 
 
 While terror took devotion's mien. 
 
THE GATHERING. m 
 
 V. 
 
 Of Brian's birth strange tales were told, 
 His mother watch'd a midnight fold, 
 Built deep within a dreary glen, 
 Where scatter'd lay the bones of men, 
 In some forgotten battle slain, 
 And bleach'd by drifting wind and rain. 
 It might have tamed a warrior's heart, 
 To view such mockery of his art ! 
 The knot-grass fetter'd there the hand, 
 Which once could burst an iron band ; 
 Beneath the broad and ample bone. 
 That buckler'd heart to fear unknown, 
 A leeble and a timorous guest, 
 The fieldfare framed her lowly nest ; 
 There the slow blind- worm left his slime 
 On the fleet limbs that mock'd at time ; 
 And there, too, lay the leader's skull. 
 Still wreathed with chaplet flush'd and full. 
 For heath-bell, with her purple bloom, 
 Supplied the bonnet and the plume. 
 All night, in this sad glen, the maid 
 Sate, shrouded in her mantle's shade : 
 — She said, no shepherd sought her side, 
 No hunter^s hand her snood untied. 
 Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 
 The virgin snood did Alice wear ; 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Gone was her maiden glee and sport, 
 Her maiden girdle all too short, 
 Nor sought she, from that fatal night, 
 Or holy church or blessed rite. 
 But lock'd her secret in her breast, 
 And died in travail unconfess'd. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Alone, among his young compeers, 
 Was Brian, from his infant years ; 
 A moody and heart-broken boy, 
 Estranged from sympathy and joy. 
 Bearing each taunt which careless tongue 
 On his mysterious lineage flung. 
 Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, 
 To wood and stream his hap to wail, 
 Till, frantic, he as truth received 
 What of his birth the crowd believed. 
 And sought, in mist and meteor fire, 
 To meet and know his Phantom Sire ! 
 In vain, to soothe his wayward fate, 
 The cloister oped her pitying gate ; 
 In vain, the learning of the age 
 Unclasp'd the sable-letter'd page ; 
 Even in its treasures he could find 
 Food lor tne fever of his mind. 
 
THE GATHERING. S9 
 
 Eager he read whatever tells 
 
 Of magic, cabala, and spells, 
 
 And every dark pursuit allied 
 
 To curious and presumptuous pride ; 
 
 Till, with fired brain and nerves o'erstrung. 
 
 And heart with mystic horrors wrung. 
 
 Desperate he sought Benharrow's den. 
 
 And hid him from the haunts of men. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The desert gave him visions wild. 
 Such as might suit the Spectre's child. 
 Where with black cliffs the torrents toil. 
 He watch'd the wheeling eddies boil. 
 Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes 
 Beheld the river demon rise ; 
 The mountain mist took form and limb, 
 Of noontide hag, or goblin grim ; 
 The midnight wind came wild and dread, 
 Swell'd with the voices of the dead ; 
 Far on the future battle-heath 
 His eye beheld the ranks of death : 
 Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurl'd, 
 Shaped forth a disimbodied world. 
 One lingering sympathy of mind 
 Still bound him to the mortal kind ; 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The only parent he could claim 
 Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. 
 Late had he heard, in prophet's dream, 
 The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream ; 
 Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast, 
 Of charging steeds, careering fast 
 Along Benharrow's shingly side, 
 Where mortal horsemen ne'er might ride 
 The thunderbolt had split the pine, — 
 All augur'd ill to Alpine's line. 
 He girt his loins, and came to show 
 The signals of impending wo. 
 And now stood prompt to bless or ban, 
 As bade the chieftain of his clan. 
 
 'Twas all prepared ; — and from the rock, 
 A goat, the patriarch of the flock, 
 Before the kindling pile was laid. 
 And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. 
 Patient the sickening victim eyed 
 The life-blood ebb in crimson tide 
 Down his clogg'd beard and shaggy limb. 
 Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 
 The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 
 A slender crosslet form'd with care. 
 
THE GATHEillNG. 91 
 
 A cubit's length in measure due ; 
 The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, 
 Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave 
 Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave, 
 And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, 
 Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 
 The Cross, thus form'd, he held on high, 
 With wasted hand and haggard eye. 
 And strange and mingled feelings woke, 
 While his anathema he spoke. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Wo to the clansmen who s^ll view 
 This symbol of sepulchral yew, 
 Forgetful that its branches grew 
 Wliere weep the heavens their holiest dew 
 
 On Alpine's dwelling low ! 
 Deserter of his Chieftain's trust. 
 He ne'er shall mingle w^ith their dust. 
 But, from his sires and kindred thrust. 
 Each clansman's execration just 
 
 Shall doom him wrath and wo." 
 He paused ; — the word the vassals took, 
 With forward step and fiery look, 
 On high their naked brands they shook. 
 Their clattering targets wildly strook ; 
 
 And first, in murmur low, 
 
92 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Then, like the billow in his course, 
 That far to seaward finds bis source, 
 And flings to shore bis muster'd force, 
 Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse, 
 
 " Wo to the traitor, wo !" 
 Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew, 
 The joyous wolf from covert drew. 
 The exulting eagle scream'd afar, — 
 They knew the voice of Alpine's war. 
 
 X. 
 
 The shout was hush'd on lake and fell. 
 The Monk resumed bis mutter'd spell. 
 Dismal and low its accents came, 
 The while he scathed the Cross with flame 
 And the few words that reach'd the air, 
 Although the holiest name was there, 
 Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 
 But when he shook above the crowd 
 Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : 
 " Wo to the wretch, who fails to rear 
 At this dread sign the ready spear ! 
 For, as the flames tbis symbol sear, 
 His home, the refuge of his fear, 
 A kindred fate shall know ; 
 Far o'er its roof the volumed flame 
 Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, 
 
THE GATHERING. 
 
 Wliile maids and matrons on his name 
 Shall call down wretchedness and shame, 
 
 And infamy and wo." 
 Then rose the cry of females, shrill 
 As goss-hawk's whistle on the hill, 
 Denouncing misery and ill, 
 Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 
 
 Of curses stammered slow ; 
 Answering with imprecation dread, 
 << Sunk be his home in embers red ! 
 And cursed be the meanest shed 
 That e'er shall hide the houseless head 
 
 We doom to want and wo !" 
 A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
 Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave ! 
 And the gray pass where birches wave, 
 
 On Beala-nam-bo. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Then deeper paused the priest anew. 
 And hard his labouring breath he drew. 
 While, with set teeth and clenched hand, 
 And eyes that glow'd like liery brand. 
 He meditated curse more dread, 
 And deadlier, on the clansman's head. 
 Who, summon'd to his Chieftain's aid. 
 The signal saw and disobey'd. 
 
94 THELADYOFTHELAKE. 
 
 The crosslet's point of sparkling wood, 
 He quenched among the bubbling blood, 
 And, as again the sign he rear'd, 
 Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard : 
 '< When flits this Cross from man to man, 
 Vich- Alpine's summons to his clan, 
 Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! 
 Palsied the foot that shuns to speed ! 
 May ravens tear the careless eyes, 
 Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! 
 As sinks that blood-stream in the earth. 
 So may his heart's-blood drench his hearth ! 
 As dies in hissing gore the spark, 
 Quench thou his light. Destruction dark ! 
 And be the grace to him denied. 
 Bought by this sign to all beside !" 
 He ceased: no echo gave again 
 The murmur of the deep Amen. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then Roderick, with impatient look, 
 From Brian's hand the symbol took ; 
 "Speed, Malise, speed!" he said, and gave 
 The crosslet to his henchman brave. 
 " The muster-place be Lanric mead — 
 Instant the time — speed, Malise, speed !" 
 
THE GATHERING. 95 
 
 Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue. 
 A barge across Loch-Katrine flew ; 
 High stood the henchman on the prow. 
 So rapidly the bargemen row% 
 The bubbles, where they launch'd the boat, 
 Were all unbroken and afloat, 
 Dancing in foam and ripple still, 
 When it had near'd the mainland hi'ii ; 
 And from the silver beach's side 
 Still was the prow three fathom wade, 
 When lightly bounded to the land 
 The messenger of blood and brand. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Speed, Malise, speed ! the dun deer's hide 
 On fleeter foot was never tied. 
 Speed, Malise, speed ! such cause of haste 
 Thine active sinews never braced. 
 Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, 
 Burst down like torrent from its crest ; 
 With short and springing footstep pass 
 The trembling bog and false morass ; 
 Across the brook like roebuck bound. 
 And thread the brake like questing hound ; 
 The crag is high, the scaur is deep. 
 Yet shrink not from the desperate leap. 
 
96 THELADYOFTHELAKE. 
 
 Parch'd are thy burning lips and brow, 
 
 Yet by the fountain pause not now. 
 
 Herald of battle, fate, and fear, 
 
 Stretch onward in thy fleet career ! 
 
 The wounded hind thou track'st not now, 
 
 Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough, 
 
 Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace 
 
 With rivals in the mountain race ; 
 
 But danger, death, and warrior deed, 
 
 Are in thy course — Speed, Malise, speed ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Fast as the fatal symbol flies. 
 In arms the huts and hamlets rise ; 
 From winding glen, from upland brown, 
 They pour'd each hardy tenant down. 
 Nor slack'd the messenger his pace : 
 He show'd the sign, he named the place, 
 And, pressing forward like the wind, 
 Left clamour and surprise behind. 
 The fisherman forsook the strand. 
 The swarthy smith took dirk and brand. 
 With changed cheer, the mower blithe 
 Left in the half-cut swath his scythe. 
 The herds without a keeper stray'd, 
 The plough was in mid-furrow stay'd, 
 
THE GATHERING. ^. 
 
 The falc'ner toss'd his hawk away, 
 The hunter left the stag at bay ; 
 Prompt at the signal of alarms, 
 Each son of Alpine rush'd to arms ; 
 So swept the tumult and affray 
 Along the margin of Achray. 
 Alas, thou lovely lake, that e'er 
 Thy banks should echo sounds of fear ! 
 The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep 
 So stilly on thy bosom deep. 
 The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud, 
 Seems for the scene too gaily loud. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Speed, Malise, speed ! the lake is past, 
 Duncraggan's huts appear at last, 
 And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 
 Half hidden in the copse so green ; 
 There mayst thou rest, thy labour done, 
 Their Lord shall speed the signal on. — 
 As stoops the hawk upon his prey, 
 The henchman shot him down the way. 
 — What woful accents load the gale ! 
 The funeral yell, the female wail ! 
 A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, 
 A valiant warrior fights no more. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Who, in the battle or the chase, 
 
 At Roderick's side shall fill his place ! — 
 
 Within the hall, where torches' ray 
 
 Supplies the excluded beams of day, 
 
 Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, 
 
 And o'er him streams his widow's tear. 
 
 His stripling son stands mournful by, 
 
 His youngest weeps, but knows not why ; 
 
 The village maids and matrons round 
 
 The dismal coronach* resound. 
 
 XVI. 
 CORONACH. 
 
 He is gone on the mountain, 
 
 He is lost to the forest, 
 Like a summer-dried fountain, 
 
 When our need was the sorest. 
 The font, re-appearing. 
 
 From the rain drops shall borrow, 
 But to us comes no cheering, 
 
 To Duncan no morrow ! 
 
 The hand of the reaper 
 
 Takes the ears that are hoary, 
 
 But the voice of the weeper 
 Wails manhood in glory ; 
 
 * Funeral song. See note. 
 
 \ 
 
THE GATHERING. 99 
 
 The autumn winds rushing 
 
 Waft the leaves that are searest, 
 But our flower was in flushing 
 
 When blighting was nearest. 
 Fleet foot on the correi,* 
 
 Sage counsel in cumber. 
 Red hand in the foray, 
 
 How sound is thy slumber ! 
 Like the dew on the mountain, 
 
 Like the foam on the river, 
 Like the bubble on the fountain, 
 
 Thou art gone, and for ever ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 See Stumahjf who, the bier beside, 
 His master's corpse with wonder eyed, — 
 Poor Stumah ! whom his least halloo 
 Could send like lightning o'er the dew, 
 Bristles his crest, and points his ears, 
 As if some stranger step he hears. 
 'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread. 
 Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead. 
 But headlong haste, or deadly fear. 
 Urge the precipitate career. 
 
 * Or corri. The hollow side of the hill, where game usually lies, 
 f Faithful. The name of a dog-. 
 
100 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 All stand aghast : — unheeding all, 
 The henchman bursts into the hall ; 
 Before the dead man's bier he stood. 
 Held forth the Cross, besmear'd with blood 
 <' The muster-place is Lanric mead ; 
 Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, speed !" 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, 
 
 Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. 
 
 In haste the stripling to his side 
 
 His father's dirk and broadsword tied ; 
 
 But when he saw his mother's eye 
 
 Watch him in speechless agony, 
 
 Back to her open'd arms he flew, 
 
 Press'a on her lips a fond adieu — 
 
 «' Alas!" she sobb'd, — '< and yet be gone, 
 
 And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son !" 
 
 One look he cast upon the bier, 
 
 Dash'd from his eye the gathering tear, 
 
 Breathed deep, to clear his labouring breast, 
 
 And toss'd aloft his bonnet crest. 
 
 Then, like the high-bred colt when, freed, 
 
 First he essays his fire and speed, 
 
 He vanish'd, and o'er moor and moss 
 
 Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. 
 
THE GATHERING. lot 
 
 Suspended was the widow's tear, 
 
 While yet his footsteps she could hear ; 
 
 And when she mark'd the henchman's eye 
 
 Wet with unwonted sympathy, 
 
 <« Kinsman," she said, " his race is run 
 
 That should have sped thine errand on ; 
 
 The oak has fallen, — the sapling bough 
 
 Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. 
 
 Yet trust I well, his duty done, 
 
 The orphan's God will guard my son— 
 
 And you, in many a danger true. 
 
 At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, 
 
 To arms, and guard that orphan's head ! 
 
 Let babes and women wail the dead." 
 
 Then weapon-clang, and martial call, 
 
 Resounded through the funeral hall. 
 
 While from the walls the attendant band 
 
 Snatch'd sword and targe with hurried hand ; 
 
 And short and flitting energy 
 
 Glanced from the mourner's sunken eve. 
 
 As if the sounds to warrior dear 
 
 Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. 
 
 But faded soon that borrow'd force ; 
 
 Grief claim'd his right, and tears their course. 
 
102 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, 
 It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. 
 O'er dale and hill the summons flew, 
 Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew ; 
 The tear that gather'd in his eye, 
 He left the mountain-breeze to dry ; 
 Until, where Teith's young waters roll, 
 Betwixt him and a wooded knoll, 
 That graced the sable strath with green, 
 The chapel of Saint Bride was seen, 
 Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge, 
 But Angus paused not on the edge ; 
 Though the dark waves danced dizzily, 
 Though reel'd his sympathetic eye. 
 He dash'd amid the torrent's roar ; 
 His right hand high the crosslet bore, 
 His left the pole-axe grasp'd, to guide 
 And stay his footing in the tide. 
 He stumbled twice— the foam splash'd high, 
 With hoarser swell the stream raced by ; 
 And had he fallen, — for ever there. 
 Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir ! 
 But still, as if in parting life. 
 Firmer he grasp'd the Cross of strife. 
 Until the opposing bank he gain'd. 
 And up the chapel pathway strain'd. 
 
THE GATHERING. 103 
 
 XX, 
 
 A blithesome rout, that morning tide, 
 Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. 
 Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 
 To Norman, heir of Armandave, 
 And, issuing from the Gothic arch, 
 The bridal now resumed their march. 
 In rude, but glad procession, came 
 Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame ; 
 And plaided youth, with jest and jeer, 
 Which snooded maiden would not hear ; 
 And children, that, unwitting why, 
 Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ; 
 And minstrels, that in measures vied 
 Before the young and bonny bnde, 
 Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose 
 The tear and blush of morning rose. 
 With virgin step, and bashful hand. 
 She held the kerchief's snowy band ; 
 The gallant bridegroom, by her side, 
 Beheld his prize with victor's pride, 
 And the glad mother in her ear 
 Was closely whispering word of cheer. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Wlio meets them at the churchyard gate r 
 The messenger of fear and fate ! 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Haste in his hurried accent lies, 
 
 And grief is swimming in his eyes. 
 
 All dripping from the recent flood, 
 
 Panting and travel-soil'd he stood, 
 
 The fatal sign of fire and sword 
 
 Held forth, and spoke the appointed word ; 
 
 " The muster-place is Lanric mead. 
 
 Speed forth the signal! Norman, speed !" 
 
 And must he change so soon the hand, 
 
 Just linked to his by holy band, 
 
 For the fell Cross of blood and brand ? 
 
 And must the day, so blithe that rose. 
 
 And promised rapture in the close. 
 
 Before its setting hour, divide 
 
 The bridegroom from the plighted bride ? 
 
 O fatal doom ! it must ! it must ! 
 
 Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust, 
 
 Her summons dread, brook no delay ; 
 
 Stretch to the race — away ! away ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Yet slow he laid his plaid aside. 
 And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride. 
 Until he saw the starting tear 
 Speak wo he might not stop to cheer ; 
 Then, trusting not a second look, 
 In haste he sped him up the brook, 
 
THE GATHERING. 105 
 
 Nor backward glanced till on the heath 
 Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. 
 — ^What in the racer's bosom stirr'd ? 
 The sickening pang of hope deferred, 
 And memory, with a torturing train 
 Of all his morning visions vain. 
 Mingled with love's impatience, came 
 The manly thirst for martial fame ; 
 The stormy joy of mountameers, 
 Ere yet they rush upon the spears : 
 And zeal for clan and chieftain burning, 
 And hope, from well-fought field returning, 
 With war's red honours on his crest, 
 To clasp his Mary to his breast. 
 Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae, 
 Like fire from flint he glanced away, 
 While high resolve, and feeling strong, 
 Burst into voluntary song. 
 
 XXIII. 
 SONG. 
 
 The heath this night must be my bed, 
 The bracken* curtain for my head, 
 My lullaby, the warder's tread. 
 
 Far, far from love and thee, Mary ; 
 
 * Bracken, Fern, 
 
106 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, 
 My couch may be my bloody plaid. 
 My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid ! 
 
 It will not waken me, Mary ! 
 I may not, dare not, fancy now 
 The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, 
 I dare not think upon thy vow. 
 
 And all it promised me, Mary. 
 No fond regret must Norman know ; 
 When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, 
 His heart must be like bended bow, 
 
 His foot like arrow free, Mary. 
 A time will come with feeling fraught ! 
 For, if I fall in battle fought, 
 Thy hapless lover's dying thought 
 
 Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. 
 And if return'd from conquer'd foes, 
 How blithely will the evening close. 
 How sweet the linnet sing repose, 
 
 To my young bride and me, Mary ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 
 Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 
 Rushing, in conflagration strong. 
 Thy deep ravines and dells along, 
 
THE GATHERING. 107 
 
 Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, 
 
 And reddening the dark lakes below ; 
 
 Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, 
 
 As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. 
 
 The signal roused to martial coil 
 
 The sullen margin of Loch-Voil, 
 
 Waked still Loch-Doine, and to the source 
 
 Alarm'd, Balvaig, thy swampy course ; 
 
 Thence southward turn'd its rapid road 
 
 Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, 
 
 Till rose in arms each man might claim 
 
 A portion in Clan-Alpine's name ; 
 
 From the gray sire, whose trembling hand 
 
 Could hardly buckle on his brand. 
 
 To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 
 
 Were yet scarce terror to the crow. 
 
 Each valley, each sequester'd glen, 
 
 Muster'd its little horde of men. 
 
 That met as torrents from the height 
 
 In Highland dale their streams unite. 
 
 Still gathering, as they pour along, 
 
 A voice more loud, a tide more strong, 
 
 Till at the rendezvous they stood 
 
 By hundreds, prompt for blows and blood : 
 
 Each train'd to arms since life began. 
 
 Owning no tie but to his clan. 
 
109 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 No oath, but by his Chieftain's hand, 
 No law, but Roderick Dhu's coinmana. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 That summer morn had Roderick Dhu 
 Survey'd the skirts of Ben-venue, 
 And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath 
 To view the frontiers of Menteith. 
 AH backward came with news of truce ; 
 Still lay each martial Gr»me and Bruce, 
 In Rednock courts no horsemen wait, 
 No banner waved on Cardross gate. 
 On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, 
 Nor scared tlie herons from Loch-Con ; 
 All seemM at peace. — Now, wot ye why 
 The Chieftain, with such anxious eye, 
 Ere to the muster he repair, 
 This western frontier scann'd with care ?-- 
 In Ben-venue's most darksome cleft, 
 A fair, though cruel, pledge was left ; 
 For Douglas, to his promise true. 
 That morning from the isle withdrew, 
 And in a deep sequester'd dell 
 Had sought a low and lonely cell. 
 By many a bard, in Celtic tongue, 
 Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung; 
 
THE GATHERING. 109 
 
 A softer name the Saxons gave, 
 And call'd the grot the Goblin Cave. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 It was a wild and strange retreat, 
 As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. 
 The dell, upon the mountain's crest, 
 Yawn'd like a gash on warrior's breast ; 
 Its trench had stay'd full many a rock, 
 Hurl'd by primeval earthquake shock 
 From Ben-venue's gray summit wild, 
 And here, in random ruin piled, 
 They frown'd incumbent o'er the spot, 
 And form'd the rugged sylvan grot. 
 The oak and birch, with mingled shade, 
 At noontide there a twilight made. 
 Unless when short and sudden shone 
 Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, 
 With such a glimpse as prophet's eye 
 Gains on thy depths, Futurity. 
 No murmur waked the solemn still. 
 Save tinkling of a fountain rill ; 
 But when the wind chafed with the lake, 
 A sullen sound would upward break, 
 With dashing hollow voice, that spoke 
 The incessant war of wave and rock. 
 
 K 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Suspended cliffs with hideous sway, 
 Seem'd nodding o'er the cavern gray. 
 From such a den the wolf had sprung, 
 In such tlie wild-cat leaves her young. 
 Yet Douglas and his daughter fair 
 Sought for a space their safety there. 
 Gray Superstition's whisper dread 
 Debarr'd the spot to vulgar tread ; 
 For there, she said, did fays resort, 
 And satyrs* hold their sylvan court, 
 By moonlight tread their mystic maze. 
 And blast the rash beholder's gaze. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Now eve, with western shadows long. 
 Floated on Katrine bright and strong, 
 When Roderick, with a chosen few, 
 Repass'd the heights of Ben-venue. 
 Above the Goblin Cave they go. 
 Through the wild pass of Beal-nara-Bo 
 The prompt retainers speed before. 
 To launch the shallop from the shore. 
 For 'cross Loch-Katrine lies his way 
 To view the passes of Achray, 
 And place his clansmen in array, 
 
 * The Urisk, or Highland satyr. See note. 
 
THE GATHERING. 
 
 Yet lags the Chief in musing mind, 
 
 Unwonted sight, his men behind. 
 
 A single page, to bear his sword, 
 
 Alone attended on his lord ; 
 
 The rest their way through thickets break, 
 
 And soon await him by the lake. 
 
 It was a fair and gallant sight, 
 
 To view them from the neighbouring height. 
 
 By the low-levell'd sunbeams' light ; 
 
 For strength and stature, from the clan. 
 
 Each warrior was a chosen man. 
 
 As even afar might well be seen, 
 
 By their proud step and martial mien. 
 
 Their feathers dance, their tartans float. 
 
 Their targets gleam, as by the boat 
 
 A wild and warlike group they stand. 
 
 That well became such mountain-strand. 
 
 Their Chief, with step reluctant, still 
 Was lingering on the craggy hill, 
 Hard by where turn'd apart the road 
 To Douglas's obscure abode. 
 It was but with that dawning morn 
 That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn, 
 To drown his love in war's wild roar, 
 Nor thmk of Ellen Douglas more : 
 
113 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 But he who stems a stream with sand, 
 
 And fetters flame with flaxen band, 
 
 Has yet a harder task to prove — 
 
 By firm resolve to conquer love ! 
 
 Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, 
 
 Still hovering near his treasure lost ; 
 
 For though his haughty heart deny 
 
 A parting meeting to his eye. 
 
 Still fondly strains his anxious ear, 
 
 The accents of her voice to hear. 
 
 And inly did he curse the breeze 
 
 That waked to sound the rustling trees. 
 
 But hark ! what mingles in the strain ? 
 
 It is the harp of Allan-bane, 
 
 That wakes its measure slow and high, 
 
 Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 
 
 What melting voice attends the strings ? 
 
 'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. 
 
 i/it'e Mana ! Maiden mild ! 
 
 Listen to a maiden's prayer! 
 Thou canst hear though from the wild, 
 
 Thou canst save amid despair. 
 Safe may we sleep beneath thy care. 
 
 Though banish'd, outcast, and reviled- 
 
THE G A r HE KING. 113 
 
 Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ; 
 Mother, hear a suppliant child ! 
 
 Ave Maria ! 
 
 Ave Maria ! Undefiled ! 
 
 The flinty couch we now must share 
 Shall seem with down of eider piled, 
 
 If thy protection hover there. 
 The murky cavern's heavy air 
 
 Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled ; 
 Then, Maiden, hear a maiden's prayer, 
 
 Mother, list a suppliant child ! 
 
 Ave Maria ! 
 
 Ave Maiia ! Stainless styled ! 
 
 Foul demons of the earth and air, 
 From this their wonted haunt exiled, 
 
 Shall flee before thy presence fair. 
 We bow us to our lot of care, 
 
 Beneath thy guidance reconciled ; 
 Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, 
 
 And for a father hear a child! 
 
 Ave Maria ! 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Died on the harp the closing hymn — 
 Unmoved in attitude and limb, 
 
 k2 
 
14 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 As list'ning still, Clan-Alpine's lord 
 Stood leaning on his heavy sword, 
 Until the page, with humble sign, 
 Twice pointed to the sun's decline. 
 Then while his plaid he round him cast, 
 " It is the last time — 'tis the last," 
 He mutter'd thrice,' — "the last time e'er 
 That angel-voice shall Roderick hear!" 
 It was a goading thought — his stride 
 Hied hastier down the mountain side ; 
 Sullen he flung him in the boat, 
 And instant 'cross the lake it shot. 
 They landed in that silvery bay, 
 And eastward held their hasty way. 
 Till, with the latest beams of light, 
 The band arrived on Lanric height. 
 Where muster'd in the vale below, 
 Clan- Alpine's men in martial show. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 A various scene the clansmen made, 
 Some sate, some stood, some slowly stray'd ; 
 But most, with mantles folded round. 
 Were couch'd to rest upon the ground, 
 Scarce to be known, by curious eye, 
 From the deep heather where they lie, 
 
THE GATHERING. 115 
 
 So well was matcli'd the tartan screen 
 
 With heath-bell dark and brackens green ; 
 
 Unless where, here and there, a blade, 
 
 Or lance's point, a glimmer made, 
 
 Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. 
 
 But when, advancing through the gloom. 
 
 They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume. 
 
 Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide. 
 
 Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 
 
 Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 
 
 Three times return'd the martial yell. 
 
 It died upon Bochastle's plain, 
 
 And Silence claim'd her evening reign. 
 
 END OF CANTO THIRD. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 << The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new. 
 
 And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; 
 The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, 
 
 And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears. 
 wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 
 
 I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, 
 Emblem of hope and love through future years!" 
 
 Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, 
 What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. 
 
 Such fond conceit, half said, half sung. 
 Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. 
 All while he stripp'd the wild-rose spray, 
 His axe and bow beside him lay. 
 For, on a pass 'twixt lake and wood, 
 A wakeful sentinel he stood. 
 Hark ! on the rock a footstep rung, 
 And instant to his arms he sprung. 
 
THE PROPHECY. 117 
 
 " Stand, or thou diest ! — What, Malise ? — soon 
 
 Art thou return'd from Braes of Doune. 
 
 By thy keen step and glance I know 
 
 Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe." 
 
 (For while the Fiery Cross hied on, 
 
 On distant scout had Malise gone.) 
 
 a Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchman said. 
 
 « Apart, in yonder misty glade ; 
 
 To his lone couch I'll be your guide." 
 
 Then call'd a slumberer by his side, 
 
 And stirr'd him with his slacken'd bow — 
 
 *' Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho ! 
 
 We seek the Chieftain ; on the track 
 
 Keep eagle watch till I come back." 
 
 III. 
 
 Together up the pass they sped : 
 
 " What of the foeman ?" Norman said. 
 
 " Varying reports from near and far ; 
 
 This certain, — that a band of war 
 
 Has for two days been ready boune, 
 
 At prompt command, to march from Doune ; 
 
 King James, the while, with princely powers, 
 
 Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 
 
 Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 
 
 Speak on our glens in thunder loud. 
 
118 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Inured to bide such bitter bout, 
 
 The warrior's plaid may bear it out ; 
 
 But, Norman, how wilt thou provide 
 
 A shelter lor thy bonny bride ?" 
 
 <' ^Vhat! know ye not that Roderick's care 
 
 To the lone isle hath caused repair 
 
 Each maid and matron of the clan, 
 
 And every child and aged man 
 
 Unfit for arras ? and given his charge, 
 
 Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge. 
 
 Upon these lakes shall float at large, 
 
 But all beside the islet moor, 
 
 That such dear pledge may rest secure?" 
 
 IV. 
 
 <' 'Tis well advised — the Chieftain's plan 
 
 Bespeaks the father of his clan. 
 
 But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dim 
 
 Apart from all his followers true?" 
 
 "It is, because last evening-tide 
 
 Brian an augury hath tried, 
 
 Of that dread kind which must not be 
 
 Unless in dread extremity, 
 
 The Taghairm call'd; by which, afar, 
 
 Our sires foresaw the events of war. 
 
 Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew.' 
 
THE PROPHECY. 119 
 
 MALISE. 
 
 "Ah! well Uie gallant brute I knew! 
 The choicest of the prey we had, 
 When swept our merry-men Gallangad. 
 His hide was snow, his horns w^ere dark. 
 His red eye glow'd like fiery spark ; 
 So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet. 
 Sore did he cumber our retreat, 
 And kept our stoutest kernes in awe, 
 Even at the pass of Beal'maha. 
 But steep and flinty was the road, 
 And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad, 
 And when we came to Denman's Row, 
 A child might scatheless stroke his brow." 
 
 V. 
 
 NORMAN. 
 
 " That bull was slain : his reeking hide 
 They stretch'd the cataract beside. 
 Whose waters their wild tumult toss 
 Adown the black and craggy boss 
 Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge 
 Tradition calls the hero's Targe. 
 Couched on a shelve beneath its brink:, 
 Close where the thundering torrents sink, 
 Rocking beneath their headlong sway. 
 And drizzled by the ceaseless spray, 
 
120 THE LADYOFTHE LAKE. 
 
 Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream, 
 The wizard waits prophetic dream. 
 Nor distant rests the chief; — but hush! 
 See, gliding slow through mist and bush, 
 The hermit gains yon rock, and stands 
 To gaze upon our slumbering bands. 
 Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost. 
 That hovers o'er a slaughtered host ? 
 Or raven on the blasted oak, 
 That, watching while the deer is broke,* 
 His morsel claims with sullen croak?" 
 
 MALISE. 
 
 << Peace ! peace ! to other than to me 
 
 Thy words were evil augury ; 
 
 But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade 
 
 Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid. 
 
 Not aught that, glean'd from heaven or hell. 
 
 You fiend-begotten Monk can tell. 
 
 The Chieftain joins him, see — and now, 
 
 Together they descend the brow." 
 
 VI. 
 
 And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord 
 The Hermit Monk held solemn word : 
 
 * Quaitered. See note» 
 
THE PROPHECY. 121 
 
 (( Roderick! it is a fearful strife, 
 For man endow'd with mortal life, 
 Whose shroud of sentient clay can still 
 Feel feverish pang and fainting chill, 
 Whose eye can stare in stony trance. 
 Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance, — 
 'Tis hard for such to view, unfurl'd. 
 The curtain of the future world. 
 Yet, witness every quaking limb. 
 My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim, 
 My soul with harrowing anguish torn. 
 This for my Chieftain have I borne ! — 
 The shapes that sought my fearful couch, 
 A human tongue may ne'er avouch ; 
 No mortal man, — save he, who, bred 
 Between the living and the dead. 
 Is gifted beyond nature's law, — 
 Had e'er survived to say he saw. 
 At length the fateful answer came, 
 In characters of living flame ! 
 Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, 
 But borne and branded on my soul ; 
 Which spills the foremost foeman's life, 
 That party conquers in the strife." 
 
l«3 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 VII. 
 
 *' Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal ami care ! 
 Good is thine augury, and fair. 
 Clan- Alpine ne'er in battle stood, 
 But first our broadswords tasted blood. 
 A surer victim still I know, 
 Self-offer'd to tlie auspicious blow : 
 A spy has sought my land this morn, — 
 No eve sliall witness his return ! 
 My followers guard each pass's mouth, 
 To east, to westward, and to south ; 
 Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide. 
 Has charge to lead his steps aside, 
 Till, in deep path or dingle brown. 
 He light on those shall bring him down. 
 — But see, who comes his news to sliow ! 
 Malise ! what tidings of tlie foe ?" 
 
 nil. 
 " At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive, 
 Two Barons proud their banners wave. 
 I saw tlie Moray's silver star. 
 And mark'd the sable pale of Mar." 
 " By Alpine's soul, high tidings those I 
 I love to hear of worthy foes. 
 \Mien move they on ?" — " To-morrow's noon 
 Will see them here for battle boune." 
 
THE PROPHECY. 1188 
 
 << Then shall it see a meeting stern ! — 
 
 But, for the place — say, couldst thou learn 
 
 Nought of the friendly clans of Earn ? 
 
 Strengthen'd by them, we well might bide 
 
 The battle on Benledi's side. 
 
 Thou couldst not ? — well ! Clan- Alpine's men 
 
 Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen ; 
 
 Within Loch-Katrine's gorge we'll fight 
 
 All in our maids' and matrons' sight, 
 
 Each for his hearth and household fire, 
 
 Father for child, and son for sire, — 
 
 Lover for maid beloved ! — but why — 
 
 Is it the breeze affects mine eye ? 
 
 Or dost thou come, ill-omen'd tear! 
 
 A messenger of doubt or fear ? 
 
 No ! sooner may the Saxon lance 
 
 Unfix Benledi from his stance, 
 
 Than doubt or terror can pierce through 
 
 The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu ! 
 
 'Tis stubborn as his trusty targe. — 
 
 Each to his post ! — all know their charge." 
 
 The pibroch sounds, the bands advance. 
 
 The broadswords gleam, the banners dance, 
 
 Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. 
 
 — I turn me from the martial roar, 
 
 And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. 
 
i34 THE LADYOFTHE LAKE. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Where is the Douglas ? — he is gone ; 
 And Ellen sits on the gray stone 
 Fast by the cave, and makes her moan ; 
 While vainly Allan's words of cheer 
 Are pour'd on her unheeding ear. — 
 " He will return — Dear lady, trust ! — 
 With joy return ; — he will — he must. 
 Well was it time to seek, afar, 
 Some refuge from impending war, 
 When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm 
 Are cow'd by the approaching storm. 
 I saw their boats, with many a light, 
 Floating the live-long yesternight, 
 Shifting like flashes darted forth 
 By the red streamers of the north ; 
 I mark'd at morn how close they ride, 
 Thick moor'd by the lone islet's side, 
 Like wild ducks couching in the fen. 
 When stoops the hawk upon the glen. 
 Since this rude race dare not abide 
 The peril on the main-land side. 
 Shall not thy noble father's care 
 Some safe retreat for thee prepare ?" 
 
THE PROPHECY. 125 
 
 X. 
 
 ELLEN. 
 
 <<No, Allan, no ! Pretext so kind 
 My wakeful terrors could not blind. 
 When in such tender tone, yet grave, 
 Douglas a parting blessing gave. 
 The tear that glisten'd in his eye 
 Drown'd not his purpose, fix'd and high. 
 My soul, though feminine and weak, 
 Can image his ; e'en as the lake. 
 Itself disturb'd by slightest stroke. 
 Reflects the invulnerable rock. 
 He hears report of battle rife, 
 He deems himself the cause of strife. 
 I saw him redden, when the theme 
 Turn'd, Allan, on thine idle dream, 
 Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound, 
 Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. 
 Think'st thou he trow'd thine omen aught ? 
 Oh no ! 'twas apprehensive thought 
 For the kind youth, — for Roderick too — 
 (Let me be just) that friend so true ; 
 In danger both, and in our cause ! 
 Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. 
 Why else that solemn warning given, 
 < If not on earth, we meet in heaven ?' 
 
126 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Why else, to Cambus Kenneth's fane, 
 If eve return him not again, 
 Am I to hie, and make me known ? 
 Alas ' he goes to Scotland's throne, 
 Buys his friends' safety with his own, — 
 He goes to do — what I had done, 
 Had Douglas' daughter been his son !" 
 
 XI. 
 
 Nay, lovely Ellen ! — dearest, nay ! 
 If aught should his return delay. 
 He only named yon holy fane 
 As fitting place to meet again. 
 Be sure he's safe ; and for the Graeme, — 
 Heaven's blessing on his gallant name I— 
 My vision'd sight may yet prove true, 
 Nor bode of ill to him or you. 
 ^^^len did my gifted dream beguile ? 
 Think of the stranger at the isle, 
 And think upon the harpings slow, 
 That presaged this approaching wo ! 
 Sooth was my prophecy of fear ; 
 Believe it when it augurs cheer. 
 Would we had left this dismal spot ! 
 Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot. 
 
THE P R O P H E C Y. 127 
 
 Of such a wondrous tale I know — 
 Dear lady, change that look of wo ! 
 My harp was wont thy grief to cheer." 
 
 ELLEN. 
 
 Well, be it as thou wilt ; I hear, 
 But cannot stop the bursting tear." 
 
 The minstrel tried his simple art, 
 But distant far was Ellen's heart. * 
 
 BALLAD.— ALICE BRAND. 
 
 Merry is it in the good greenwood, 
 
 When the mavis* and merlef are singing. 
 
 When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, 
 And the hunter's horn is ringing. 
 
 << Alice Brand, ray native land 
 Is lost for love of you ; 
 And we must hold by wood and wold, 
 As outlaws wont to do. 
 
 << Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright, 
 And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, 
 
 * Thrush. f Blackbird. 
 
I-JS THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 That on the night of our hickless flight, 
 Thy brother bold I slew. 
 
 "Now must I teach to hew the beech 
 The hand that held the glaive, 
 For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 
 And stakes to fence our cave. 
 
 " And for vest of pall, thy lingers small, 
 That wont on harp to stray, 
 A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer 
 To keep the cold away." 
 
 «< 0, Richard ! if my brother died, 
 'Twas but a fatal chance ; 
 For darkling was the battle tried. 
 And fortune sped the lance. 
 
 <* If pall and vair no more I wear, 
 
 Nor thou the crimson sheen. 
 As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray. 
 
 As gay the forest-green. 
 
 " And, Richard, if our lot be hard, 
 And lost tliy native land, 
 Still Alice "has her own Richard, 
 And he his Alice Brand." 
 
THE PROPHECY. 129 
 
 xiir. 
 
 BALLAD CONTINUED. 
 
 'Tis merry, 'tismerr)', in good greenwood, 
 So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; 
 
 On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, 
 Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 
 
 Up spoke the moody Elfin King, 
 Who wonn'd within the hill, — 
 
 Like wind in the porch of a ruin'd church. 
 His voice was ghostly shrill. 
 
 <' Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, 
 Our moonlight circle's screen ? 
 Or who comes here to chase the deer, 
 
 Beloved of our Elfin Queen ? 
 Or who may dare on wold to wear 
 The fairie's fatal green ? 
 
 " Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie, 
 For thou wert christen'd man ; 
 For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, 
 For mutter'd word or ban. 
 
 '<Lay on him the curse of the wither'd heart, 
 The curse of the sleepless eye ; 
 
180 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Till he wish and pray that his life would part, 
 Nor yet find leave to die." 
 
 XIV. 
 BALLAD CONTINUED. 
 
 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood. 
 Though the birds have still'd their singing ; 
 
 The evening blaze doth Alice raise, 
 And Richard is fagots bringing. 
 
 Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf. 
 
 Before Lord Richard stands. 
 And, as he cross'd and bless'd himself, 
 " I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf, 
 
 a That is made with bloody hands." 
 
 But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 
 That woman void of fear, — 
 " And if there's blood upon his hand, 
 'Tis but the blood of deer." 
 
 " Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood! 
 It cleaves unto his hand, 
 The stain of thine own kindly blood, 
 The blood of Ethert Brand." 
 
THE PROPHECY. 131 
 
 Then forward stepp'd she, Alice Brand, 
 
 And made the holy sign, — 
 : And if there's blood on Richard's hand, 
 
 A spotless hand is mine. 
 
 And I conjure thee, demon elf, 
 
 By Him whom demons fear, 
 To show us whence thou art thyself, 
 
 And what thine errand here ?" 
 
 XV. 
 
 BALLAD CONTINUED. 
 
 " 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, 
 When fairy birds are singing. 
 When the court doth ride by their monarch's side. 
 With bit and bridle ringing : 
 
 << And gaily shines the Fairy-land — 
 But all is glistening show. 
 Like the idle gleam that December's beam 
 Can dart on ice and snow. 
 
 " And fading, like that varied gleam 
 Is our inconstant shape, 
 Who now like knight and lady seem, 
 And now like dwarf and ape. 
 
133 THE LADYOF THE LAKE. 
 
 <<It was between the night and day, 
 When the Fairy King has power, 
 That I sunk down in a sinful fray, 
 And, 'twixt life and death, was snatch'd away 
 To the joyless Elfin bower. 
 
 " But wist I of a woman bold. 
 
 Who thrice my brow durst sign, 
 I might regain my mortal mould, 
 As fair a form as thine." 
 
 She cross'd him once — she cross'd him twice— 
 
 That lady was so brave ; 
 The fouler grew his goblin hue, 
 
 The darker grew the cave. 
 
 She cross'd him thrice, that lady bold ; 
 
 He rose beneath her hand 
 The fairest knight on Scottish mould, 
 
 Her brother, Ethert Brand! 
 
 Merry it is in good greenwood, 
 
 When the mavis and merle are singing. 
 
 But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray, 
 When all the bells were ringing. 
 
THE PROPHECY. 133 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Just as the minstrel sounds were stay'd, 
 
 A stranger climb'd the steepy glade : 
 
 His martial step, his stately mien, 
 
 His hunting suit of Lincoln green, 
 
 His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 
 
 'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz-James. 
 
 Ellen beheld as in a dream, 
 
 Then, starting, scarce suppress'd a scream — 
 
 <' stranger! in such hour of fear, 
 
 What evil hap has brought thee here ?" 
 
 <« An evil hap, how can it be, 
 
 That bids me look again on thee ? 
 
 By promise bound, my former guide 
 
 Met me betimes this morning tide. 
 
 And marshall'd, over bank and bourne. 
 
 The happy path of my return." 
 
 <' The happy path ! —what ! said he nought 
 
 Of war, of battle to be fought, 
 
 Of guarded pass ?" — <' No, by my faith ! 
 
 Nor saw I aught could augur scathe." 
 
 "Oh haste thee, Allan, to the kern, 
 
 — Yonder his tartans I discern ; 
 
 Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 
 
 That he will guide the stranger sure ! — 
 
 What prompted thee, unhappy man ! 
 
 The meanest serf in Roderick's clan 
 
134 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Had not been bribed by love or fear, 
 Unknown to him, to guide thee here. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 «' Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, 
 
 Since it is worthy care from thee ; 
 
 Yet life I hold but idle breath, 
 
 "When love or honour's weigh'd with death. 
 
 Then let me profit by my chance, 
 
 And speak my purpose bold at once. 
 
 I come to bear thee from a wild, 
 
 Where ne'er before such blossom smiled; 
 
 By this soft hand to lead thee far 
 
 From frantic scenes of feud and war. 
 
 Near Bochastle my horses wait ; 
 
 They bear us soon to Stirling gate. 
 
 I'll place thee in a lovely bower, 
 
 I'll guard thee like a tender flower — " 
 
 " Oh ! hush, Sir Knight ! 'twere female art, 
 
 To say I do not read thy heart ; 
 
 Too much, before, my selfish ear 
 
 Was idly soothed my praise to hear. 
 
 That fatal bait hath lured thee back, 
 
 In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track ; 
 
 And how, how, can I atone 
 
 The wreck my vanity brought on ! — 
 
THE PROPHECY. 13& 
 
 One way remains — I'll tell him all — 
 
 Yes ! struggling bosom, forth it shall ! 
 
 Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, 
 
 Buy thine own pardon with thy shame ! 
 
 But first, — ray father is a man 
 
 Outlaw'd and exiled, under ban ; 
 
 The price of blood is on his head, 
 
 With me 'twere infamy to wed. 
 
 Still wouldst thou speak ? — then hear the truth ! 
 
 Fitz-James, there is a noble youth, — 
 
 If yet he is ! — exposed for me 
 
 And mine to dread extremity — 
 
 Thou hast the secret of my heart ; 
 
 Forgive, be generous, and depart !" 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Fitz-James knew every wily train 
 
 A lady's fickle heart to gain, 
 
 But here he knew and felt them vain. 
 
 There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, 
 
 To give her steadfast speech the lie ; 
 
 In maiden confidence she stood, 
 
 Though mantled in her cheek the blood. 
 
 And told her love with such a sigh 
 
 Of deep and hopeless agony. 
 
 As death had seal'd her Malcolm's doom, 
 
 And she. sat sorrowing on his tomb. 
 
136 THE LADYOF THE LAKE. 
 
 Hope vanish'd from Fitz-James's eye, 
 
 But not with hope fled sympathy. 
 
 He proffer'd to attend her side, 
 
 As brother would a sister guide. — 
 
 '< ! little know'st thou Roderick's heart ! 
 
 Safer for both we go apart. 
 
 haste thee, and from Allan learn, 
 
 If thou mayst trust yon wily kern." 
 
 With hand upon his forehead laid, 
 
 The conflict of his mind to shade, 
 
 A parting step or two he made ; 
 
 Then, as some thought had cross'd his brain, 
 
 He paused, and turn'd, and came again. 
 
 « Hear, lady, yet, a parting word ! 
 It chanced in fight that my poor sword 
 Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. 
 This ring the grateful Monarch gave. 
 And bade, when I had boon to crave, 
 To bring it back, and boldly claim 
 The recompense that I would name. 
 Ellen, I am no courtly lord, 
 But one who lives by lance and sword. 
 Whose castle is his helm and shield, 
 His lordship, the embattled field. 
 
THE PROPHECY. 137 
 
 Wliat from a prince cau I demand, 
 
 Who neither reck of state nor land ? 
 
 Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ; 
 
 Each guard and usher knows the sign. 
 
 Seek thou the king without delay ; 
 
 This signet shall secure thy way ; 
 
 And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, 
 
 As ransom of his pledge to me." 
 
 He placed the golden circlet on, 
 
 Paused — kiss'd her hand— and then was gone. 
 
 The aged Minstrel stood aghast, 
 
 So hastily Fitz-James shot past. 
 
 He join'd his guide, and wending down 
 
 The ridges of the mountain brown. 
 
 Across the stream they took their way, 
 
 That joins Loch-Katrine to Achray. 
 
 XX. 
 
 All in the Trosach's glen was still. 
 Noontide was sleeping on the hill : 
 Sudden his guide whoop'd loud and high — 
 << Murdoch ! was that a signal cry ?" 
 He stammer'd forth, — '< I shout to scare 
 Yon raven from his dainty fare." — • 
 He look'd — he knew the raven's prey. 
 His own brave steed :;— « Ah ! gallant gray ! 
 
138 THE LADY OV THE LAKE. 
 
 For thee — for me, perchance — 'twere well 
 We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. — 
 Murdoch, move first — but silently ; 
 Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die !" 
 Jealous and sullen on they fared, 
 Each silent, each upon his guard. 
 
 Now wound the path its dizzy ledge 
 Around a precipice's edge, 
 When lo ! a wasted female form, 
 Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, 
 In tatter'd weeds and wild array. 
 Stood on a cliff beside the way, 
 And glancing round her restless eye. 
 Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, 
 Seem'd nought to mark, yet all to spy. 
 Her brow was WTealhed with gaudy broom 
 With gesture wild she waved a plume 
 Of feathers, which the eagles fling 
 To crag and cliff from dusky wing; 
 Such spoils her desperate step had sought, 
 "VMiere scarce was footing for the goat. 
 The tartan plaid she first descried, 
 And shriek'd, till all the rocks replied ; 
 As loud she laugh'd when near they drew, 
 For then the Lowland garb she knew ; 
 
THE TROPILECY. 139 
 
 And then her hands she wildly wrung, 
 And then she wept, and then she sung — 
 She sung! — the voice in better time, 
 Perchance to harp or lute might chime ; 
 And now, though strain'd and roughen'd, still 
 Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. 
 
 <' They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, 
 
 They say my brain is warp'd and wrung- 
 I cannot sleep on Highland brae, 
 
 I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 
 But were I now where Allan glides, 
 Or heard my native Devan's tides, 
 So sweetly would I rest, and pray 
 That heaven would close my wintry day ! 
 
 " 'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid, 
 They bade me to the church repair ; 
 
 It was my bridal morn they said, 
 
 And my true love would meet me there. 
 
 But wo betide the cruel guile, 
 
 That drown'd in blood the morning smile ! 
 
 And wo betide the fairy dream ! 
 
 I only waked to sob and scream." 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 <' Who is this maid ? what means her lay ? 
 
 She hovers o'er the hollow way, 
 
 And flutters wide her mantle gray, 
 
 As the lone heron spreads his wing. 
 
 By twilight, o'er a haunted spring." 
 
 « 'Tis Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said, 
 
 '< A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 
 
 Ta'en on the morn she was a bride. 
 
 When Roderick foray'd Devan-side. 
 
 The gay bridegroom resistance made. 
 
 And felt our Chief's unconquer'd blade. 
 
 I marvel she is now at large, 
 
 But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge. — 
 
 Hence, brain-sick fool!" — He raised his bow: — 
 
 " Now, if thou strikest her but one blow, 
 
 I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far 
 
 As ever peasant pitch'd a bar!" 
 
 "Thanks, champion, thanks!" the Maniac cried. 
 
 And press'd her to Fitz-James's side. 
 
 i'See the gray pennons I prepare. 
 
 To seek my true-love through the air ! 
 
 I will not lend that savage groom. 
 
 To break his fall, one downy plume ! 
 
 No ! — deep amid disjointed stones. 
 
 The wolves shall batten on his bones, 
 
THE PROPHECY. 141 
 
 And then shall his detested plaid, 
 By bush and brier in mid air stay'd, 
 Wave forth a banner fair and free, 
 Meet signal for their revelry." 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 « Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still !" 
 "0\ thou look'st kindly, and I will. 
 Mine eye has dried and wasted been, 
 But still it loves the Lincoln green ; 
 And, though mine ear is all unstrung. 
 Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 
 
 « For my sweet William was forester true, 
 He stole poor Blanche's heart away ! 
 His coat it was all of the greenwood hue. 
 And so blithely he trill'd the Lowland lay ! 
 
 « It was not that I meant to tell . . . . , 
 But thou art wise and guessest well." 
 Then, in a low and broken tone, 
 And hurried note, the song went on. 
 Still on the clansman, fearfully, 
 She fixed her apprehensive eye ; 
 Then turn'd it on the Knight, and then 
 Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. 
 
142 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XXV, 
 
 " The toils are pitchVl, and the stakes are set, 
 Ever sing merrily, merrily ; 
 The bows they bend, and the knives tliey whet, 
 Hunters live so cheerily. 
 
 " It was a stag, a stag of ten,* 
 Bearing his branches sturdily ; 
 He came stately down the glen, 
 Ever sing hardily, hardily. 
 
 <« It was there he met with a wounded doe, 
 She was bleeding deathfully ; 
 She warn'd him of the toils below, 
 so faithfully, faithfully! 
 
 " He had an eye, and he could heed. 
 Ever sing warily, warily ; 
 He had a foot, and he could speed — 
 Hunters watch so narrowly." 
 
 Fitz-James's mind was passion-toss'd, 
 When Ellen's hints and fears were lost ; 
 
 * Having ten branches on his antlers. 
 
THE PROPHECY. 143 
 
 But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, 
 
 And Blanche's song conviction brought. 
 
 Not like a stag that spies the snare, 
 
 But lion of the hunt aware, 
 
 He waved at once his blade on high, 
 
 " Disclose thy treachery or die !" 
 
 Forth at full speed the clansman flew, 
 
 But in his race his bow he drew. 
 
 The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest, 
 
 And thrill'd in Blanche's faded breast. 
 
 Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed, 
 
 For ne'er had Alpine's son such need ! 
 
 With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 
 
 The fierce avenger is behind ! 
 
 Fate judges of the rapid strife — 
 
 The forfeit death — the prize is life ! 
 
 Thy kindred ambush lies before, 
 
 Close couch'd upon the heathery moor ; 
 
 Them could'st thou reach ! — it may not be — 
 
 Thine ambush'd kin thou ne'er shalt see, 
 
 The fiery Saxon gains on thee ! 
 
 — Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, 
 
 As lightning strikes the pine to dust ; 
 
 With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain, 
 
 Ere he can win his blade again. 
 
 Bent o'er the fall'n, with falcon eye, 
 
 He grimly smiled to see him die ; 
 
14 THELADYOFTIIELAK 
 
 Then slower wended back his way, 
 Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 She sale beneath the birchen tree, 
 Her elbow resting on her knee ; 
 She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, 
 And gazed on it, and feebly laugh'd ; 
 Her wreath of broom and feathers gray, 
 Daggled with blood, beside her lay. 
 The knight to staunch the life-stream tried. 
 " Stranger, it is in vain !" she cried. 
 " This hour of death has given me more 
 Of reason's power than years before ; 
 For, as these ebbing veins decay. 
 My frenzied visions fade away. 
 A helpless injured wretch I die. 
 And something tells me in thine eye, 
 That thou wert mine avenger born. 
 Seest thou this tress ? — ! still I've worn 
 This little tress of yellow hair, 
 Through danger, frenzy, and despair ! 
 It once was bright and clear as thine, 
 But blood and tears have dimm'd its shine. 
 I will not tell thee when 'twas shred. 
 Nor from what guiltless victim's head — 
 
THE PROPHECY, 145 
 
 My brain would turn ! — but it shall wave 
 Like plumage on thy helmet brave, 
 Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, 
 And thou wilt bring- it me again. 
 I waver still. — God ! more bright 
 Let reason beam her parting light ! — 
 O ! by thy knighthood's honour'd sign, 
 And for thy life preserved by mine, 
 When thou shalt see a darksome man. 
 Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's clan, 
 With tartans broad and shadowy plume, 
 And hand of blood, and brow of gloom. 
 Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, 
 And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong! — 
 They w^atch for thee by pass and fell . . . 
 Avoid the path ... God! . . . Farewell." 
 
 A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James ; 
 Fast pour'd his eye at pity's claims, 
 And now, with mingled grief and ire, 
 He saw the murder'd maid expire. 
 <' God, in my need, be my relief, 
 As I wreak this on yonder Chief!" 
 A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 
 He blended with her bridegroom's hair 
 
146 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The mingled braid in blood he dyed, 
 
 And placed it on his bonnet-side : 
 
 «' By Him whose word is truth ! I swear, 
 
 No other favour will I wear, 
 
 Till this sad token I imbrue 
 
 In the best blood of Roderick Dhu ! 
 
 — But hark ! what means yon faint halloo ? 
 
 The chase is up, — but they shall know. 
 
 The stag at bay's a dangerous foe." 
 
 Barr'd from the known but guarded way, 
 
 Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray, 
 
 And oft must change his desperate track, 
 
 By stream and precipice turn'd back. 
 
 Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length, 
 
 From lack of food and loss of strength. 
 
 He couch'd him in a thicket hoar, 
 
 And thought his toils and perils o'er : — 
 
 '< Of all my rash adventures past. 
 
 This frantic feat must prove the last ! 
 
 Who e'er so mad but might have guess'd. 
 
 That all this Highland hornet's nest 
 
 Would muster up in swarms so soon 
 
 As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ? — 
 
 Like bloodhounds now they search me out, — 
 
 Hark, to the whistle and the shout ! — 
 
 If farther through the wilds I go, 
 
 I only fall upon the foe ; 
 
THE PROPHECY. 147 
 
 I'll couch me here till evening' gray, 
 Then darkling try my dangerous way." 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The shades of eve come slowly down, 
 
 The woods are wrapp'd in deeper brown, 
 
 The owl awakens from her dell, 
 
 The fox is heard upon the fell ; 
 
 Enough remains of glimmering light 
 
 To guide the wanderer's steps aright, 
 
 Yet not enough from far to show 
 
 His figure to the watchful foe. 
 
 With cautious step, and ear awake, 
 
 He climbs the crag and threads the brake ; 
 
 And not the summer solstice, there, 
 
 Temper'd the midnight mountain air, 
 
 But every breeze, that swept the wold, 
 
 Benumb'd his drenched limbs with cold. 
 
 In dread, in danger, and alone, 
 
 Famish'd and chill'd, through ways unknown, 
 
 Tangled and steep, he journey'd on ; 
 
 Till, as a rock's huge point he turn'd, 
 
 A watch-fire close before him burn'd. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Beside its embers red and clear, 
 Bask'd, in his plaid, a mountaineer ; 
 
148 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 And up he sprung with sword in hand, — 
 
 '< Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand !" 
 
 " A stranger," — " What dost thou require ?" 
 
 '< Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 
 
 My life's beset, my path is lost, 
 
 The gale has chill'd my limbs with frost." 
 
 « Art thou a friend to Roderick?" — "No." 
 
 " Thou darest not call thyself a foe ?" 
 
 " I dare ! to him and all the band 
 
 He brings to aid his murderous hand." 
 
 "Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game 
 
 The privilege of chase may claim. 
 
 Though space and law the stag we lend. 
 
 Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, 
 
 Who ever reck'd, w^here, how, or when, 
 
 The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain ? 
 
 Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie, 
 
 Who say thou earnest a secret spy !" 
 
 " They do, by heaven ! — Come Roderick Dhu, 
 
 And of his clan the boldest two, 
 
 And let me but till morning rest, 
 
 I write the falsehood on their crest." 
 
 " If by the blaze I mark aright, 
 
 Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight." 
 
 " Then by these tokens mayst thou know 
 
 Each proud oppressor's mortal foe." 
 
T H E P R P H E C Y. 149 
 
 <' Enough, enough ; sit down and share 
 A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 He gave him of his Highland cheer, 
 The harden'd flesh of mountain deer ; 
 Dry fuel on the fire he laid, 
 And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 
 He tended him like welcome guest, 
 Then thus his farther speech address'd. 
 « Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu 
 A clansman born, a kinsman true ; 
 Each word against his honour spoke, 
 Demands of me avenging stroke ; 
 Yet more, — upon thy fate, 'tis said, 
 A mighty augury is laid. 
 It rests with me to wind my horn, — 
 Thou art with numbers overborne ; 
 It rests with me, here, brand to brand, 
 Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand : 
 But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause. 
 Will I depart from honour's laws : 
 To assail a wearied man were shame. 
 And stranger is a holy name ; 
 Guidance and rest, and food and fire, 
 In vain he never must require. 
 
150 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Then rest thee here till dawn of day ; 
 
 Myself will guide thee on the way, 
 
 O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward, 
 
 Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard, 
 
 As far as Coilantogle's ford : 
 
 From thence thy warrant is thy sword." 
 
 <' I take thy courtesy, by Heaven, 
 
 As freely as 'tis nobly given !" 
 
 " Well, rest thee : for the bittern's cry 
 
 Sings us the lake's wild lullaby." 
 
 With that he shook the gather'd heath, 
 
 And spread his plaid upon the wreath : 
 
 And the brave foemen, side by side, 
 
 Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, 
 
 And slept until the dawning beam 
 
 Purpled the mountain and the stream. 
 
 END OF CANTO FOURTH. 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 Ei)e donttat 
 
 I. 
 
 Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, 
 
 When first, by the bewilder'd pilgrim spied. 
 It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, 
 
 And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide. 
 And lights the fearful path on mountain side ; — 
 
 Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, 
 Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, 
 
 Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star, 
 Throuffh all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War. 
 
 That early beam, so fair and sheen. 
 Was twinkling through the hazel screen, 
 When, rousing at its glimmer red. 
 The warriors left their lowly bed, 
 Look'd out upon the dappled sky, 
 Mutter'd their soldier matins by. 
 
15'2 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 And tlien awaked tlieir fire, to steal, 
 As short aud rude, tlieir soldier meal. 
 That o'er, the Gael* around him threw 
 His graceful plaid of varied hue. 
 And true to promise, led the way, 
 By thicket green and mountain gray. 
 A wildering patli ! — they winded now 
 Along the precipice's brow, 
 Commanding the rich scenes beneath, 
 The windings of the Forth and Teith, 
 And all the vales between that lie, 
 Till Stirling's turrets melt in sk}- ; 
 Then, sunk in copse, tlieir farthest glance 
 Gain'd not the length of horseman's lance. 
 'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain 
 Assistance from the hand to gain ; 
 So tangled oft, that, bursting through, 
 Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew, — 
 That diamond dew, so pure and clear, 
 It rivals all but Beauty's tear ! 
 
 III. 
 At lengdi they came where, stern and steep, 
 The hill sinks down upon the deep. 
 
 * The Scottish Highlander calls himself Gael, or Gaul, and terras the 
 Lowlanders Sassenach, or Saxons. 
 
THE COMBAT. 153 
 
 Here Vennachar in silver flows, 
 
 There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose, 
 
 Ever the hollow path twined on, 
 
 Beneath steep bank and threatening stone ; 
 
 A hundred men might hold the post 
 
 With hardihood against a host. 
 
 The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 
 
 Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, 
 
 With shingles bare, and cliffs between, 
 
 And patches bright of bracken green. 
 
 And heather black, that waved so high, 
 
 It held the copse in rivalry. 
 
 But where the lake slept deep and still, 
 
 Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill ; 
 
 And oft both path and hill were torn, 
 
 Where wintry torrent down had borne; 
 
 And heap'd upon the cumber'd land 
 
 Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 
 
 So toilsome was the road to trace. 
 
 The guide, abating of his pace. 
 
 Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 
 
 And ask'd Fitz-James, by what strange cause 
 
 He sought these wilds ? traversed by few, 
 
 Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 
 
154 THE LADYOFTHE LAKE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried, 
 Hangs in my belt, and by my side ; 
 Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said, 
 " I drcam'd not now to claim its aid. 
 When here, but three days since, I came, 
 Bewilder'd in pursuit of game, 
 All seem'd as peaceful and as still 
 As the mist slumbering on yon hill ; 
 Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, 
 Nor soon expected back from war. 
 Thus said, at least, my mountain guide, 
 Though deep, perchance, the villain lied." 
 " Yet why a second venture try?" 
 " A warrior thou, and ask me why ! — 
 Moves our free course by such fix'd cause, 
 As gives the poor mechanic laws ? 
 Enough, I sought to drive away 
 The lazy hours of peaceful day ; 
 Slight cause will then suffice to guide 
 A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — 
 A falcon flown, a greyhound stray'd, 
 The merry glance of mountain maid ; 
 Or, if a path be dangerous known. 
 The danger's self is lure alone." 
 
THE COMBAT. 155 
 
 V. 
 
 « Thy secret keep, I urge thee not ; — 
 Yet, ere again ye sought this spot. 
 Say, heard ye nought of Lowland war. 
 Against Clan- Alpine raised by Mar ?" 
 " No, by my word ; — of bands prepared 
 To guard King James's sports I heard ; 
 Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear 
 T)iis muster of the mountaineer, 
 Their pennons will abroad be flung, 
 Which else in Doune had peaceful hung." 
 «< Free be they flung ! for we were loth 
 Their silken folds should feast the moth. 
 Free be they flung ! — as free shall wave 
 Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave. 
 But, Stranger, peaceful since you came, 
 Bewilder'd in the mountain game. 
 Whence the bold boast by which you show, 
 Vich- Alpine's vow'd and mortal foe ?" 
 << Warrior, but yestermorn, I knew 
 Nought of thy chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 
 Save as an outlaw'd desperate man, 
 The chief of a rebellious clan. 
 Who, in the Regent's court and sight. 
 With ruffian dagger stabb'd a knight ; 
 Yet this alone might from his part 
 Sever each true and loyal heart." 
 
156 THE LADYOF THE LAKE. 
 
 VI. • 
 
 Wrothful at such arraignment foul, 
 Dark lower'd the clansman's sable scowl. 
 A space he paused, then sternly said,— 
 " And heardst thou why he drew his blade? 
 Heardst thou that shameful word and blow 
 Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe ? 
 What reck'd the Chieftain if he stood 
 On Highland heath or Holy-Rood ? 
 He rights such wrong where it is given, 
 If it were in the court of heaven." 
 '< Still was it outrage ; — yet, 'tis true. 
 Not then claim'd sovereignty his due ; 
 While Albany, with feeble hand, 
 Held borrow'd truncheon of command. 
 The young King, mew'd in Stirling tower, 
 Was stranger to respect and power. 
 But then, thy Chieftain's robber life ! — 
 Winning mean prey by causeless strife, 
 Wrenching from ruin'd Lowland swain 
 His herds and harvest, rear'd in vain, — 
 Methinks a soul like thine should scorn 
 The spoils from such foul foray borne." 
 
 The Gael beheld him grim the while, 
 And answer'd with disdainful smile, — 
 
THE COMBAT. 157 
 
 "Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
 I mark'd thee send delighted eye 
 Far to the south and east, where lay, 
 Extended in succession gay. 
 Deep waving fields and pastures green, 
 With gentle slopes and groves between : — 
 These fertile plains, that soften'd vale, 
 Were once the birthright of the Gael ; 
 The stranger came with iron hand. 
 And from our fathers reft the land. 
 Where dwell we now ! See, rudely swell 
 Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 
 Ask we this savage hill we tread, 
 For fatten'd steer or household bread ; 
 Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 
 And well the mountain might reply, — 
 ' To you, as to your sires of yore, 
 Belong the target and claymore ! 
 I give you shelter in my breast. 
 Your own good blades must win the rest.' 
 Pent in this fortress of the North, 
 Think'st thou we will not sally forth, 
 To spoil the spoiler as we may. 
 And from the robber rend the prey ? 
 Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain 
 The Saxon rears one shock of grain ; 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 While, often thousand herds, there strays 
 But one along yon river's maze, — 
 The Gael, of plain and river heir. 
 Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. 
 Where live the mountain chiefs who hold, 
 That plundering Lowland field and fold 
 Is aught but retribution true ? 
 Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu." 
 
 Answer'd Fitz- James, — <' And, if I sought, 
 
 Think'st thou no other could be brought ? 
 
 What deem ye of my path waylaid ? 
 
 My life given o'er to ambuscade ?" 
 
 <' As of a meed to rashness due : 
 
 Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 
 
 I seek my hound, or falcon stray'd, 
 
 I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, — 
 
 Free hadst thou been to come and go ; 
 
 But secret path marks secret foe. 
 
 Nor yet, for this, even as a spy, 
 
 Hadst thou, unheard, been doom'd to die, 
 
 Save to fulfil an augury." 
 
 « Well, let it pass ; nor will I now 
 
 Fresh cause of enmity avow. 
 
 To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. 
 
THE COMBAT. 159 
 
 Enough, I am by promise tied 
 
 To match me with this man of pride : 
 
 Twice have I sought Clan- Alpine's glen 
 
 In peace ; but when I come again, 
 
 I come with banner, brand, and bow, 
 
 As leader seeks his mortal foe. 
 
 For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower, 
 
 Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, 
 
 As I, until before me stand 
 
 This rebel Chieftain and his band." 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Have, then, thy wish !" — He whistled shrill, 
 
 And he was answer'd from the hill ; 
 
 Wild as the scream of the curlew, 
 
 From crag to crag the signal flew. 
 
 Instant, through copse and heath, arose 
 
 Bonnets and spears and bended bows ; 
 
 On right, on left, above, below, 
 
 Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; 
 
 From shingles gray their lances start, 
 
 The bracken bush sends forth the dart, 
 
 The rushes and the willow-w^and 
 
 Are bristling into axe and brand. 
 
 And every tuft of broom gives life 
 
 To plaided warrior arm'd for strife. 
 
160 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 That whistle garrison'd the glen 
 
 At once with full five hundred men, 
 
 As if the yawning hill to heaven 
 
 A subterranean host had given. 
 
 Watching their leader's beck and will, 
 
 All silent there they stood, and still, 
 
 Like the loose crags whose threatening mass 
 
 Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 
 
 As if an infant's touch could urge 
 
 Their headlong passage down the verge, 
 
 With step and weapon forward flung. 
 
 Upon the mountain-side they hung. 
 
 The mountaineer cast glance of pride 
 
 Along Benledi's living side. 
 
 Then fix'd his eye and sable brow 
 
 Full on Fitz- James — "How say'st thou now.-* 
 
 These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true ; 
 
 And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu!" 
 
 X. 
 
 Fitz-James was brave : — Though to his heart 
 The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start, 
 He mann'd himself with dauntless air, 
 Return'd the Chief his haughty stare, 
 His back against a rock he bore. 
 And firmly placed his foot before : — 
 
THE COMBAT. 161 
 
 "Come one, come all! this rock shall fly 
 
 From its firm base as soon as I." 
 
 Sir Roderick mark'd — and in his eyes 
 
 Respect was mingled with surprise, 
 
 And the stern joy which warriors feel 
 
 In foeraen worthy of their steel. 
 
 Short space he stood — then waved his hand : 
 
 Down sunk the disappearing band ; 
 
 Each warrior vanish'd where he stood, 
 
 In broom or bracken, heath or wood ; 
 
 Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 
 
 In osiers pale and copses low ; 
 
 It seem'd as if their mother Earth 
 
 Had swallow'd up her warlike birth. 
 
 The wind's last breath had toss'd in air 
 
 Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair, — 
 
 The next but swept a lone hill-side, 
 
 Where heath and fern were waving wide ; 
 
 The sun's last glance was glinted back 
 
 From spear and glaive, from targe and jack, — 
 
 The next, all unreflected, shone 
 
 On bracken green, and cold gray stone. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Fitz-James look'd round — yet scarce believed 
 The witness that his sight received ; 
 
162 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Such apparition well might seem 
 
 Delusion of a dreadful dream. 
 
 Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 
 
 And to his look the Chief replied, 
 
 " Fear nought — nay, that I need not say — 
 
 But — doubt not aught from mine array. 
 
 Thou art my guest ;• — I pledged my word 
 
 As far as Coilantogle ford : 
 
 Nor would I call a clansman's brand 
 
 For aid against one valiant hand, 
 
 Though on our strife lay every vale 
 
 Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 
 
 So move we on ; — I only meant 
 
 To show the reed on which you leant, 
 
 Deeming this path you might pursue 
 
 "Without a pass from Roderick Dhu." 
 
 They moved : — I said Fitz- James was brave, 
 
 As ever knight that belted glaive ; 
 
 Yet dare not say, that now his blood 
 
 Kept on its wont and temper'd flood. 
 
 As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 
 
 That seeming lonesome pathway through. 
 
 Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife 
 
 With lances, that, to take his life. 
 
 Waited but signal from a guide. 
 
 So late dishonour'd and defied. 
 
T li E C O M B A T. 163 
 
 Ever, by stealih, Lis eye sought round 
 The vanish'd guardians of the ground, 
 And still, from copse and heather deep, 
 Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, 
 And in the plover's shrilly strain, 
 The signal whistle heard again. 
 Nor breathed he free till far behind 
 The pass was left ; for then they wind 
 Along a wide and level green, 
 Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, 
 Nor rush, nor brush of broom was near, 
 To hide a bonnet or a spear. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The Chief in silence strode before, 
 
 And reach'd that torrent's sounding shore. 
 
 Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, 
 
 From Vennachar in silver breaks, 
 
 Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 
 
 On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 
 
 Wliere Rome, the Empress of the world. 
 
 Of yore her eagle wings unfurl'd. 
 
 And here his course the Chieftain stay'd. 
 
 Threw down his target and his plaid, 
 
 And to the Lowland warrior said : — 
 
 « Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, 
 
 Vich- Alpine has discharged his trust. 
 
164 THE LADY OFTHE LAKE. 
 
 This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, 
 
 This head of a rebellious clan, 
 
 Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, 
 
 Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 
 
 Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 
 
 A chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 
 
 See, here, all vantageless I stand, 
 
 Arm'd, like thyself, with single brand ; 
 
 For this is Coilantogle ford. 
 
 And thou must keep thee with thy sword." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The Saxon paused : — " I ne'er delay'd, 
 
 When foeman bade me draw my blade ; 
 
 Nay more, brave Chief, I vow'd thy death : 
 
 Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, 
 
 And my deep debt for life preserved, 
 
 A better meed have well deserved : 
 
 Can nought but blood our feud atone ? 
 
 Are there no means ?" — "No, Stranger, none! 
 
 And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal,— 
 
 The Saxon cause rests on thy steel ; 
 
 For thus spoke Fate by prophet bred 
 
 Between the living and the dead : 
 
 « WTio spills the foremost foeman's life, 
 
 His party conquers in the strife.'" 
 
THE COMBAT. 165 
 
 "Then, by my word," the Saxon said, 
 <' The riddle is already read. 
 Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — 
 There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. 
 Thus Fate has solved her prophecy, 
 Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 
 To James, at Stirling, let us go, 
 When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 
 Or if the King shall not agree 
 To grant thee grace and favour free, 
 I plight mine honour, oath, and word, 
 That, to thy native strength restored, 
 With each advantage shalt thou stand. 
 That aids thee now to guard thy land." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Dark lightning flash'd from Roderick's eye — 
 
 « Soars thy presumption then so high. 
 
 Because a wretched kern ye slew, 
 
 Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ? 
 
 He yields not, he, to man or Fate ! 
 
 Thou add'st but fuel to my hate : 
 
 My clansman's blood demands revenge. 
 
 Not yet prepared ? — By heaven, I change 
 
 My thought, and hold thy valor light 
 
 As that of some vain carpet knight. 
 
166 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Who ill deserved my courteous care, 
 And whose best boast is but to wear 
 A braid of his fair lady's hair." 
 — "I thank thee, Roderick for the word ! 
 It nerves my heart, it steels my sword, 
 For I have sworn this braid to stain 
 In the best blood that warms thy vein. 
 Now, truce, farewell! and ruth, begone ' — 
 Yet think not that by thee alone. 
 Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown ; 
 Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn. 
 Start at my whistle clansmen stern. 
 Of this small horn one feeble blast 
 Would fearful odds against thee cast. 
 But fear not — doubt not — Vv^hich thou wilt — 
 We try this quarrel hilt to hilt." 
 Then each at once his faulchion drew, 
 Each on the ground his scabbard threw. 
 Each look'd to sun, and stream, and plain, 
 As what they ne'er might see again ; 
 Then foot, and point, and eye opposed. 
 In dubious strife they darkly closed. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Ill fared it then w^ith Roderick Dhu, 
 That on the field his targe he threw, 
 
THE COMBAT. 167 
 
 Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
 Had death so often dash'd aside ; 
 For, train'd abroad his arms to wield, 
 Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 
 He practised every pass and ward. 
 To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; 
 While less expert, though stronger far, 
 The Gael maintain'd unequal war. 
 Three times in closing strife they stood. 
 And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood ; 
 No stinted draught, no scanty tide, 
 The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 
 Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain, 
 And shower'd his blows like wintry rain ; 
 And, as firm rock, or castle roof. 
 Against the winter shower is proof. 
 The foe, invulnerable still, 
 Foil'd his wild rage by steady skill ; 
 Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 
 Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand. 
 And, backward borne upon the lea, 
 Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Now, yield thee, or by Him who made 
 The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade !" 
 
168 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 " Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 
 
 Let recreant yield who fears to die." 
 
 Like adder darting from his coil, 
 
 Like wolf that dashes through the toil, 
 
 Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 
 
 Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ; 
 
 Received, but reck'd not of a wound. 
 
 And lock'd his arms his foeraan round. — 
 
 Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! 
 
 No maiden's hand is round thee thrown ! 
 
 That desperate grasp thy frame might feel. 
 
 Through bars of brass and triple steel ! — 
 
 They tug, they strain ! — down, down they go, 
 
 The Gael above, Fitz-James below. 
 
 The Chieftain's gripe his throat compress'd, 
 
 His knee was planted in his breast ; 
 
 His clotted locks he backward threw, 
 
 Across his brow his hand he drew, 
 
 From blood and mist to clear his sight, 
 
 Then gleam'd aloft his dagger bright! 
 
 — But hate and fury ill supphed 
 
 The stream of life's exhausted tide. 
 
 And all too late the advantage came, 
 
 To turn the odds of deadly game ; 
 
 For, while the dagger gleam'd on high, 
 
 Reel'd soul and sense, reel'd brain and eye. 
 
THE COMBAT. 16£ 
 
 Down came the blow ! but in the heath 
 The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 
 The struggling foe may now unclasp 
 The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp ; 
 Unwounded from the dreadful close, 
 But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 He falter'd thanks to Heaven for life, 
 
 Redeem'd, unhoped, from desperate strife ; 
 
 Next on his foe his look he cast, 
 
 Whose every gasp appear'd his last ; 
 
 In Roderick's gore he dipp'd the braid, — 
 
 « Poor Blanche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid 
 
 Yet with thy foe must die, or live. 
 
 The praise that Faith and Valour give." 
 
 With that he blew a bugle-note. 
 
 Undid the collar from his throat, 
 
 Unbonneted, and by the wave 
 
 Sate down his brow and hands to lave. 
 
 Then faint afar are heard the feet 
 
 Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 
 
 The sounds increase, and now are seen 
 
 Four mounted squires in Lincoln green ; 
 
 Two who bear lance, and two who lead. 
 
 By loosen'd rein, a saddled steed ; 
 
170 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Each onward held his headlong course, 
 And by Fitz-James rein'd up his horse, — 
 With wonder view'd the bloody spot — 
 " Exclaim not, gallants ! question not. — 
 You, Herbert and Luffness, alight, 
 And bind the wounds of yonder knight ; 
 Let the gray palfrey bear his weight, 
 We destined for a fairer freight, 
 And bring him on to Stirling straight : 
 I will before at better speed, 
 To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 
 The sun rides high ; — I must be boune 
 To see the archer-game at noon ; 
 But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — 
 De Vaux and Herries, follow me. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 "Stand, Bayard, stand!"— The steed obey'd. 
 
 With arching neck and bended head. 
 
 And glancing eye, and quivering ear, 
 
 As if he loved his lord to hear. 
 
 No foot Fitz-James in stirrup stay'd. 
 
 No grasp upon the saddle laid, 
 
 But wreathed his left hand in the mane, 
 
 And lightly bounded from the plain, 
 
 Turn'd on the horse his armed heel. 
 
 And stirr'd his courage with the steel. 
 
THE COMBAT. 171 
 
 Bounded the fiery steed in air, 
 The rider sate erect and fair, 
 Then, like a bolt from steel crossbow 
 Forth launch'd, along the plain they go. 
 They dash'd that rapid torrent through, 
 And up Carhonie's hill they flew; 
 Still at the gallop prick'd the Knight, 
 His merry-men follow'd as they might. 
 Along thy banks, swift Teith ! they ride, 
 And in the race they mock thy tide ; 
 Torry and Lendrick now are past, 
 And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; 
 They rise, the banner'd towers of Doune, 
 They sink in distant woodland soon ; 
 Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, 
 They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre ; 
 They mark just glance and disappear 
 The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; 
 They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides. 
 Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides, 
 And on the opposing shore take ground, 
 With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 
 Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth ! 
 And soon the bulwark of the North, 
 Gray Stirling, with her towers and town, 
 Upon their fleet career look'd down. 
 
i72 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 As up the flinty path they strainM, 
 
 Sudden his steed the leader rein'd ; 
 
 A signal to his squire he flung, 
 
 ^^^lO instcmt to his stirrup sprung : 
 
 " Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray, 
 
 Who townward holds the rocky way. 
 
 Of stature tall and poor array ? 
 
 INIark'st thou the firm, yet active stride, 
 
 "With which he scales the mountain side ? 
 
 Know'st thou jfrom whence he comes, or whom .'*'* 
 
 " No, by my word ; — a burly groom 
 
 He seems, who in the field or chase 
 
 A baron's train would nobly grace." 
 
 " Out, out, De Vaux ! can fear supply, 
 
 And jealousy, no sharper eye ? 
 
 Afar, ere to the hill he drew. 
 
 That stately form and step I knew ; 
 
 Like form in Scotland is not seen, 
 
 Treads not such step on Scottish green. 
 
 'Tis James of Douglas, by Saint Serle ! 
 
 The uncle of the banish'd Earl. 
 
 Away, away, to court, to show 
 
 The near approach of dreaded foe : 
 
 The King must stand upon his guard ; 
 
 Douglas and he must meet prepared." 
 
THE COMBAT. 173 
 
 Yhen right-hand wheel'd their steeds, and straight 
 They won the castle's postern gate. 
 
 XX. 
 
 The Douglas, who had bent his way 
 
 From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey gray, 
 
 Now, as he climb'd the rocky shelf, 
 
 Held sad communion with himself: 
 
 "Yes! all is true my fears could frame : 
 
 A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, 
 
 And fiery Roderick soon will feel 
 
 The vengeance of the royal steel. 
 
 I, only I, can ward their fate, — 
 
 God grant the ransom come not late ! 
 
 The Abbess hath her promise given, 
 
 My child shall be the bride of Heaven ; — 
 
 — Be pardon'd one repining tear ! 
 
 For He, who gave her, knows how dear. 
 
 How excellent ! — but that is by, 
 
 And now my buiness is — to die. 
 
 — Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread 
 
 A Douglas by his sovereign bled, 
 
 And thou, sad and fatal mound !* 
 
 That oft hast heard the death-axe sound. 
 
 • An eminence on the northeast of the castle, where state criminals 
 were executed. See note. 
 
174 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 As on the noblest of the land 
 
 Fell the stem headsman's bloody hand, — 
 
 The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 
 
 Prepare, — for Douglas seeks his doom ! 
 
 — But hark! what blithe and jolly peal 
 
 Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ? 
 
 And see ! upon the crowded street, 
 
 In motley groups what masquers meet ! 
 
 Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, 
 
 And merry morrice-dancers come. 
 
 I guess, by all this quaint array, 
 
 The burghers hold their sports to-day. 
 
 James will be there ; — he loves such show, 
 
 Where the good yeoman bends his bow. 
 
 And the tough wrestler foils his foe. 
 
 As well as where, in proud career. 
 
 The high-born tilter shivers spear. 
 
 I'll follow to the Castle-park, 
 
 And play my prize : — King James shall mark. 
 
 If age has tamed these sinews stark, 
 
 Whose force so oft, in happier days, 
 
 His boyish wonder loved to praise." 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The Castle gates were open flung, 
 
 The quivering drawbridge rock'd and rung, 
 
THE COMBAT. 175 
 
 And echo'd loud the flinty street 
 
 Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, 
 
 As slowly down the steep descent 
 
 Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, 
 
 While all along the crowded w^ay 
 
 Was jubilee and loud huzza. 
 
 And ever James w^as bending low, 
 
 To his white jennet's saddle bow. 
 
 Doffing his cap to city dame, 
 
 Who smiled and blush'd for pride and shame. 
 
 And well the simperer might be vam, — 
 
 He chose the fairest of the train. 
 
 Gravely he greets each city sire, 
 
 Commends each pageant's quaint attire, 
 
 Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, 
 
 And smiles and nods upon the crowd, 
 
 Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, 
 
 << Long live the Commons' King, King James!' 
 
 Behind the King throng'd peer and knight, 
 
 And noble dame and damsel bright. 
 
 Whose fiery steeds ill brook'd the stay 
 
 Of the steep street and crowded way. 
 
 — But in the train you might discern 
 
 Dark lowering brow and visage stern ; 
 
 There nobles mourn'd their pride restrain'd, 
 
 And the mean burgher's joys disdain'd ; 
 
176 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, 
 Were each from home a banish'd man, 
 There thought upon their own gray tower, 
 Their waving woods, their feudal power, 
 And deem'd themselves a shameful part 
 Of pageant which they cursed in heart. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Now, in the Castle-park, drew out 
 Their chequer'd bands the joyous rout. 
 There morricers, with bell at heel, 
 And blade in hand, their mazes wheel ; 
 But chief, beside the butts, there stana 
 Bold Robin Hood and all his band, — 
 Friar Tuck with quarter-staff and cowl, 
 Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, 
 Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone, 
 Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John ; 
 Their bugles challenge all that will, 
 In archery to prove their skill. 
 The Douglas bent a bow of might, — 
 His first shaft center'd in the white, 
 And when in turn he shot again, 
 His second split the first in twain. 
 From the King's hand must Douglas take 
 A silver dart, the archers' stake j 
 
THE COMBAT. 177 
 
 Fondly he watch'd, with watery eye, 
 Some answering glance of sympathy, — 
 No kind emotion made reply ! 
 Indifferent as to archer wight, 
 The Monarch gave the arrow bright. 
 
 xxin. 
 Now, clear the Ring! for, hand to hand, 
 The manly wrestlers take their stand. 
 Two o'er the rest superior rose. 
 And proud demanded mightier foes, 
 Nor call'd in vain ; for Douglas came. 
 — For life is Hugh of Larbert lame ; 
 Scarce better John of Alloa's fare. 
 Whom senseless home his comrades bear. 
 Prize of the wrestling match, the King 
 To Douglas gave a golden ring, 
 Wliile coldly glanced his eye of blue, ^ 
 As frozen drop of wintry dew. 
 Douglas would speak, but in his breast 
 His struggling soul his words suppress'd : 
 Indignant then he turn'd him where 
 Their arms the brawny yeomen bare. 
 To hurl the massive bar in air. 
 WTien each his utmost strength had shown, 
 The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 
 
178 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 From its deep bed, tlien heaved it high, 
 And sent the fragment through the sky, 
 A rood beyond the fartliest mark ; — 
 And still in Stirling's royal park, 
 The gray-hairM sires who know the past. 
 To strangers point the Douglas-cast, 
 And moralize on the decay 
 Of Scottish strength in modern day. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The vale with loud applauses rang, 
 The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang ; 
 The King, with look unmoved, bestow'd 
 A purse well fill'd with pieces broad. 
 Indignant smiled the Douglas proud. 
 And threw the gold among the crowd, 
 \Mio now, with anxious wonder, scan, 
 And sharper glance, the dark gray man ; 
 Till whispers rose among the throng, 
 That heart so free, and hand so strong. 
 Must to the Douglas blood belong : 
 The old men mark'd and shook the head. 
 To see his hair with silver spread. 
 And wink'd aside, and told each son 
 Of feats upon the English done. 
 Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 
 Was exiled from his native land. 
 
THE COMBAT. 179 
 
 The women praised his stately form, 
 Though wreck'd by many a winter's storm ; 
 The youth with awe and wonder saw 
 His strength surpassing Nature's law. 
 Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, 
 Till murmur rose to clamours loud. 
 But not a glance from that proud ring 
 Of peers who circled round the King, 
 With Douglas held communion kind, 
 Or call'd the banish'd man to mind ; 
 No, not from those, who, at the chase, 
 Once held his side the honour'd place, 
 Begirt his board, and, in the field. 
 Found safety underneath his shield ; 
 For he, whom royal eyes disown, 
 When was his form to courtiers known ! 
 
 The Monarch saw the gambols flag, 
 
 And bade let loose a gallant stag, 
 
 Whose pride, the holiday to crown, 
 
 Two favourite greyhounds should pull down, 
 
 That venison free, and Bordeaux wine, 
 
 Might serve the archery to dine. 
 
 But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side 
 
 Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide, 
 
f8a THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The fleetest hound in all the North, — 
 
 Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. 
 
 She left the royal hounds midway, 
 
 And, dashing on the antler'd prey, 
 
 Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank, 
 
 And deep the flowing life-blood drank. 
 
 The King's stout huntsman saw the sport 
 
 By strange intruder broken short, 
 
 Came up, and, with his leash unbound, 
 
 In anger struck the noble hound. 
 
 — The Douglas had endured, that morn, 
 
 The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, 
 
 And last, and worst to spirit proud. 
 
 Had borne the pity of the crowd ; 
 
 But Lufra had been fondly bred. 
 
 To wshare his board, to watch his bed. 
 
 And oft would Ellen, Lufra's neck, 
 
 In maiden glee, with garlands deck ; 
 
 They were such playmates, that with name 
 
 Of Lufra, Ellen's image came. 
 
 His stifled wrath is brimming high. 
 
 In darken'd brow and flashing eye ; 
 
 As waves before the bark divide, 
 
 The crowd gave way before his stride , 
 
 Needs but a buffet and no more. 
 
 The groom lies senseless in his gore. 
 
THE COMBAT. 181 
 
 Such blow no other hand could deal, 
 Though gauntleted in glove of steel. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Then clamour'd loud the royal train, 
 And brandish'd swords and staves amain. 
 But stern the Baron's warning — " Back! 
 Back, on your lives, ye menial pack ! 
 Beware the Douglas. — Yes ! behold, 
 King James, the Douglas, doom'd of old. 
 And vainly sought for near and far, 
 A victim to atone the war, 
 A willing victim, now attends. 
 Nor craves thy grace but for his friends." 
 — << Thus is my clemency repaid? 
 Presumptuous Lord !" the Monarch said ; 
 « Of thy mis-proud ambitious clan. 
 Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, 
 The only man, in whom a foe 
 My woman-mercy would not know : 
 But shall a monarch's presence brook 
 Injurious blow, and haughty look.-' — 
 What ho ! the Captain of our Guard ! 
 Give the offender fitting ward. — 
 Break off the sports !" — for tumult rose. 
 And yeoman 'gan to bend their bows ! — 
 Q 
 
185J THE LADYOF THE LAKE. 
 
 "Break off the sports!" — he said, and frown'd, 
 << And bid our horsemen clear the ground." 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Then uproar wild and misarray 
 Marr'd the fair form of festal day. 
 The horsemen prick'd among the crowd, 
 Repell'd by threats and insult loud : 
 To earth are borne the old and weak. 
 The timorous fly, the women shriek; 
 With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, 
 The hardier urge tumultuous war. 
 At once round Douglas darkly svreep 
 The royal spears in circle deep. 
 And slowly scale the pathway steep ; 
 While on the rear in thunder pour 
 The rabble with disorder'd roar. 
 With grief the noble Douglas saw 
 The Commons rise against the law, 
 And to the leading soldier said, — 
 " Sir John of Hyndford ! 'twas my blade 
 That knighthood on thy shoulder laid ; 
 For that good deed, permit me then 
 A word with these misguided men. 
 
THE COMBAT. 183 
 
 " Hear, gentle friends! ere yet, for me, 
 
 Ye break the bands of fealty. 
 
 My life, my honour, and my cause, 
 
 I tender free to Scotland's laws. 
 
 Are these so weak as must require 
 
 The aid of your misguided ire ? 
 
 Or, if I suffer causeless wrong. 
 
 Is then my selfish rage so strong, 
 
 My sense of public w^eal so low. 
 
 That, for mean vengeance on a foe. 
 
 Those cords of love I should unbind. 
 
 Which knit my country and my kind ? 
 
 Oh no ! Believe, in yonder tower, 
 
 It will not soothe my captive hour, 
 
 To know those spears our foes should dread, 
 
 For me in kindred gore are red ; 
 
 To know, in fruitless brawl begun. 
 
 For me, that mother wails her son ; 
 
 For me, that widow's mate expires. 
 
 For me, that orphans weep their sires. 
 
 That patriots mourn insulted laws. 
 
 And curse the Douglas for the cause. 
 
 O let your patience ward such ill. 
 
 And keep your right to love me still!" 
 
184 THE LADYOFTHE LAKE. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The crowd's wild fury sunk again 
 
 In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 
 
 With lifted hands and eyes, they pray'd 
 
 For blessings on his generous head, 
 
 Who for his country felt alone, 
 
 And prized her blood beyond his own. 
 
 Old men, upon the verge of life, 
 
 Bless'd him who stay'd the civil strife ; 
 
 And mothers held their babes on high, 
 
 The self-devoted Chief to spy. 
 
 Triumphant over wrong and ire. 
 
 To whom the prattlers owed a sire : 
 
 Even the rough soldier's heart was moved ; 
 
 As if behind some bier beloved. 
 
 With trailing arms and drooping head, 
 
 The Douglas up the hill he led, 
 
 And at the Castle's battled verge, 
 
 With sighs, resign'd his honour'd charge. 
 
 The offended Monarch rode apart, 
 With bitter thought and swelling heart, 
 And would not now vouchsafe again 
 Throucrh Stirling: streets to lead his train. 
 
THE COMBAT. 185 
 
 << Lennox, who would wish to rule 
 This changeling crowd, this common fool ? 
 Hear'st thou," he said, " the loud acclaim, 
 With which they shout the Douglas' name ? 
 With like acclaim, the vulgar throat 
 Strain'd for King James their morning note ; 
 With like acclaim they hail'd the day 
 When first I broke the Douglas' sway ; 
 And like acclaim would Douglas greet, 
 If he could hurl me from my seat. 
 Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, 
 Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ! 
 Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 
 And fickle as a changeful dream ; 
 Fantastic as a woman's mood, 
 And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood. 
 Thou many-headed monster-thing, 
 who would wish to be thy king ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " But soft ! what messenger of speed 
 Spurs hitherward his panting steed? 
 I guess his cognisance afar — 
 What from our cousin, John of Mar?" 
 "He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound 
 Within the safe and guarded ground : 
 q3 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 For some foul purpose yet unknown, — 
 Most sure for evil to the throne, — 
 The outlaw'd Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 
 Has summon'd his rebellious crew : 
 'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid 
 These loose banditti stand array'd. 
 The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune, 
 To break their muster march'd, and soon 
 Your grace will hear of battle fought ; 
 But earnestly the Earl besought, 
 Till for such danger he provide, 
 With scanty train you will not ride." 
 
 " Thou warn'st me I have done amiss, — 
 I should have earlier look'd to this : 
 I lost it in this bustling day. 
 — Retrace with speed thy former way ; 
 Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, 
 The best of mine shall be thy meed. 
 Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 
 We do forbid the intended war ; 
 Roderick, this morn, in single fight, 
 Was made our prisoner by a knight, 
 And Douglas hath himself and cause 
 Submitted to our Kingdom's laws. 
 
THE COMBAT. 187 
 
 The tidings of their leaders lost 
 
 Will soon dissolve the mountain host, 
 
 Nor would we that the vulgar feel, 
 
 For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. 
 
 Bear Mar our message, Braco ; fly!" 
 
 He turn'd his steed, — <■<■ My liege, I hie. 
 
 Yet ere I cross this lily lawn, 
 
 I fear the broadswords will be drawn." 
 
 The turf the flying courser spurn'd. 
 
 And to his towers the King return'a 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Ill with King James's mood that day, 
 Suited gay feast and minstrel lay ; 
 Soon were dismiss'd the courtly throng, 
 And soon cut short the festal song. 
 Nor less upon the sadden'd town 
 The evening sunk in sorrow down. 
 The burghers spoke of civil jar, 
 Of rumour'd feuds and mountain war ; 
 Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, 
 All up in arms : — the Douglas too. 
 They mourn'd him pent within the hold, 
 '< Where stout Earl William was of old"- 
 
 * Stabbed by James II. in Stirling Castle. 
 
188 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 And there his word the speaker stay'd, 
 
 And jfinger on his lip he laid, 
 
 Or pointed to his dagger blade. 
 
 But jaded horsemen from the west, 
 
 At evening to the Castle press'd ; 
 
 And busy talkers said they bore 
 
 Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ; 
 
 At noon the deadly fray begun, 
 
 And lasted till tlie set of sun. 
 
 Thus giddy Rumour shook the town, 
 
 Till closed the Night her pennons brown. 
 
 END OF CANTO FIFTH. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 Srje ©fuarlr^aSloont. 
 
 1. 
 
 The sun, awakening, through the smoky air 
 
 Of the dark city cast a sullen glance, 
 Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, 
 
 Of sinful man the sad inheritance ; 
 Summoning revellers from the lagging dance. 
 
 Scaring the prowling robber to his den ; 
 Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance, 
 
 And warning student pale to leave his pen, 
 And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men. 
 
 What various scenes, and ! what scenes of wo. 
 
 Are witness'd by that red and struggling beam ! 
 The fever'd patient, from his pallet low. 
 
 Through crowded hospital beholds its stream ; 
 The ruin'd maiden trembles at its gleam. 
 
 The debtor wakes to thought of gj've and jail, 
 The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream ; 
 
 The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale. 
 Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail. 
 
190 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 II. 
 
 At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 
 
 With soldier-step and weapon-clang, 
 
 While drums, with rolling note, foretell 
 
 Relief to weary sentinel. 
 
 Through narrow loop and casement barr'ds 
 
 The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, 
 
 And, struggling with the smoky air, 
 
 Deaden'd the torches' yellow glare. 
 
 In comfortless alliance shone 
 
 The lights through arch of blacken'd .'^^one. 
 
 And show'd wild shapes in garb of war. 
 
 Faces deform'd with beard and scar, 
 
 All haggard from the midnight watch, 
 
 And fever'd with the stern debauch ; 
 
 For the oak table's massive board. 
 
 Flooded with wine, with fragments stored, 
 
 And beakers drain'd, and cups o'erthrown, 
 
 Show'd in what sport the night had flown. 
 
 Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; 
 
 Some labour'd still their thirst to quench : 
 
 Some, chill'd with watching, spread their hands 
 
 O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 
 
 While round them, or beside them flung, 
 
 At every step their harness rung. 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 191 
 
 III. 
 
 These drew not for their fields the sword, 
 
 Like tenants of a feudal lord, 
 
 Nor own'd the patriarchal claim 
 
 Of chieftain in their leader's name ; 
 
 Adventurers they from far, who roved. 
 
 To live by battle which they loved. 
 
 There the Italian's clouded face. 
 
 The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace ; 
 
 The mountain-loving Switzer there 
 
 More freely breathed in mountain air ; 
 
 The Fleming there despised the soil, 
 
 That paid so ill the labourer's toil ; 
 
 Their rolls show'd French and German name ; 
 
 And merry England's exiles came, 
 
 To share, with ill-conceal'd disdain. 
 
 Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. 
 
 All brave in arms, well train'd to wield 
 
 The heavy halberd, brand, and shield ; 
 
 In camps licentious, wild, and bold ; 
 
 In pillage fierce and uncontroll'd ; 
 
 And now by holytide and feast, 
 
 From rules of discipline released. 
 
192 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 They held debate of bloody fray, 
 
 Fought 'twixt Loch- Katrine and Achny. 
 
 Fierce was their speech, and, 'mid their words, 
 
 Their hands oft grappled to their swords ; 
 
 Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear 
 
 Of wounded comrades groaning near, 
 
 Wliose mangled limbs, and bodies gored, 
 
 Bore token of the mountain sword, 
 
 Though, neighbouring to the Court of Guard, 
 
 Their prayers and feverish wails werf; heard : 
 
 Sad burden to the ruffian joke. 
 
 And savage oath by fury spoke ! — 
 
 At length up started John of Brent ; 
 
 A yeoman from the banks of Trent ; 
 
 A stranger to respect or fear. 
 
 In peace a chaser of the deer. 
 
 In host a hardy mutineer. 
 
 But still the boldest of the crew, 
 
 "\Mien deed of danger was to do. 
 
 He grieved, that day, their games cut short, 
 
 And marr'd the dicer's brawling sport, 
 
 And shouted loud, " Renew the bowl ! 
 
 And, while a merry catch I troll. 
 
 Let each the buxom chorus bear. 
 
 Like brethren of the brand and spear." 
 
THE GUARD -ROOM. 19f 
 
 SOLDIER'S SONG. 
 
 Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule 
 
 Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl, 
 
 That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack, 
 
 And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ; 
 
 Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor, 
 
 Drink upsees* out, and a fig for the vicar ! 
 
 Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 
 
 The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip ; 
 
 Says, that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly. 
 
 And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye ; 
 
 Yet whoop. Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker, 
 
 Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar ! 
 
 Our vicar thus preaches — and why should he not ? 
 For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot ; 
 And 'tis right of his office poor laymen to lurch, 
 Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church 
 Yet whoop, bully-boys ! off with your liquor. 
 Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the vicar ! 
 
 * A Bacchanalian interjection, borrowed from the Dutch. 
 
194 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The warder's challenge, heard without, 
 
 Stay'd in mid-roar the merry shout, 
 
 A soldier to the portal went, — 
 
 <' Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent ; 
 
 And, beat for jubilee the drum ! 
 
 A maid and minstrel with him come." 
 
 Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarr'd, 
 
 Was entering now the Court of Guard, 
 
 A harper with him, and, in plaid 
 
 All muffled close, a mountain maid. 
 
 Who backward shrunk to 'scape the view 
 
 Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 
 
 '< What news?" they roar'd. — '< I only know, 
 
 From noon till eve we fought with foe. 
 
 As wild and as untameable. 
 
 As the rude mountains where they dwell. 
 
 On both sides store of blood is lost. 
 
 Nor much success can either boast." 
 
 "But whence thy captives, friend? such spoil 
 
 As theirs must needs reward thy toil. 
 
 Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp ; 
 
 Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp ! 
 
 Get thee an ape, and trudge the land. 
 
 The leader of a juggler band." 
 
THE GUARD -ROOM. 195 
 
 VII. 
 
 <' No, comrade ; — no such fortune mine. 
 
 After the fight, these sought our line, 
 
 That aged harper and the girl. 
 
 And, having audience of the Earl, 
 
 Mar bade I should purvey them steed. 
 
 And bring them hitherward with speed. 
 
 Forbear your mirth and rude alarm, 
 
 For none shall do them shame or harm." 
 
 «< Hear ye his boast!" cried John of Brent, 
 
 Ever to strife and jangling bent ; 
 
 << Shall he strike doe beside our lodge, 
 
 And yet the jealous niggard grudge 
 
 To pay the forester his fee ! 
 
 I'll have my share howe'er it be. 
 
 Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee." 
 
 Bertram his forward step withstood ; 
 
 And, burning in his vengeful mood, 
 
 Old Allan, though unfit for strife. 
 
 Laid hand upon his dagger-knife ; 
 
 But Ellen boldly stepp'd between. 
 
 And dropp'd at once the tartan screen ! — 
 
 So, from his morning cloud, appears 
 
 The son of May, through summer tears. 
 
 The savage soldiery, amazed. 
 
 As on descended angel gazed ; 
 
196 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Even hardy Brent, abash 'd and tamed, 
 Stood half admiring', half ashamed. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Boldly she spoke, — <' Soldiers, attend ! 
 My father was the soldier's friend ; 
 Cheer'd him in camps, in marches led, 
 And with him in the battle bled. 
 Not from tlie valiant, or the strong, 
 Should exile's daughter suffer wrong." 
 Answer'd De Brent, most forward still 
 In every feat, or good or ill, — 
 " I shame me of the part I play'd : 
 And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ! 
 An outlaw I by forest laws. 
 And merry Needwood knows the cause. 
 Poor Rose, — if Rose be living now," 
 He wiped his iron eye and brow, 
 " ]\Iust bear such age, I think, as thou. 
 Hear ye, my mates ; — I go to call 
 The Captain of our watch to hall : 
 There lies my halberd on the floor ; 
 And he that steps my halberd o'er, 
 To do the maid injurious part, 
 My shaft shall quiver in his heart ! — 
 Beware loose speech, or jesting rough: 
 Ye all know John de Brent. Enough." 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 197 
 
 IX. 
 
 Their Captain came, a gallant young, — 
 
 (Of Tullibardine's house he sprung,"* 
 
 Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight ; 
 
 Gay was his mien, his humour light, 
 
 And, though by courtesy controll'd, 
 
 Forward his speech, his bearing bold. 
 
 The high-born maiden ill could brook 
 
 The scanning of his curious look 
 
 And dauntless eye ; — and yet, in sooth. 
 
 Young Lewis was a generous youth ; 
 
 But Ellen's lovely face and mien. 
 
 Ill-suited to the garb and scene. 
 
 Might lightly bear construction strange, 
 
 And give loose fancy scope to range. 
 
 '< Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid ! 
 
 Come ye to seek a champion's aid, 
 
 On palfrey white, with harper hoar, 
 
 Like errant damosel of yore ? 
 
 Does thy high quest a knight require. 
 
 Or may the venture suit a squire ?" 
 
 Her dark eye flash'd: — she paused and sigh'd, — 
 
 " what have I to do with pride ! — 
 
 — Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, 
 
 A suppliant for a father's life, 
 
 I crave an audience of the King. 
 
 Behold, to back my suit, a ring, 
 
198 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The royal pledge of grateful claims, 
 Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James. 
 
 The signet-ring young Lewis took, 
 
 With deep respect and aher'd look ; 
 
 And said, — " This ring our duties own ; 
 
 And pardon, if to w^orth unknown. 
 
 In semblance mean obscurely veil'd. 
 
 Lady, in aught my folly faiPd. 
 
 Soon as the day flings wide his gates, 
 
 The King shall know what suitor waits. 
 
 Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower 
 
 Repose you till his waking hour ; 
 
 Female attendance shall obey 
 
 Your best, for service or array. 
 
 Permit, I marshal you the way." 
 
 But, ere she follow'd, with the grace 
 
 And open bounty of her race, 
 
 She bade her slender purse be shared 
 
 Among the soldiers of the guard. 
 
 The rest with thanks their guerdon took , 
 
 But Brent, with shy and awkward look. 
 
 On the reluctant maiden's hold 
 
 Forced bluntly back the profTer'd gold :— 
 
 " Forgive a haughty English heart, 
 
 And forget its ruder part ! 
 
THE GUARU-ROOM. 199 
 
 The vacant purse shall be my share, 
 
 Which in my barret-cap I'll bear, 
 
 Perchance, in jeopardy of war, 
 
 Where gayer crests may keep afar." 
 
 With thanks, — 'twas all she could, — the maid 
 
 His rugged courtesy repaid. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Wlien Ellen forth with Lewis went, 
 Allan made suit to John of Brent: — 
 " My lady safe, let your grace 
 Give me to see my master's face ! 
 His minstrel I, — to share his doom, 
 Bound from the cradle to the tomb. 
 Tenth in descent, since first my sires 
 Waked for his noble house their lyres, 
 Nor one of all the race was known 
 But prized its weal above their own. 
 With the Chiefs birth begins our care ; 
 Our harp must soothe the infant heir, 
 Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace 
 His earliest feat of field or chase ; 
 In peace, in war, our rank we keep, 
 We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep. 
 Nor leave him till we pour our verse, — 
 A doleful tribute ! — o'er his hearse. 
 
200 THE LADYOFTHE LAKE. 
 
 Then let me share his captive lot ; 
 It is my right — deny it not !" 
 " Little we reck," said John of Brent, 
 " We Southern men, of long descent : 
 Nor wot we how a name — a word — 
 Makes clansmen vassals to a lord : 
 Yet kind my noble landlord's part, — 
 God bless the house of Beaudesert ! 
 And, but I loved to drive the deer. 
 More than to guide the labouring steer, 
 I had not dwelt an outcast here. 
 Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ; 
 Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see." 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then, from a rusted iron hook, 
 A bunch of ponderous keys he took, 
 Lighted a torch, and Allan led 
 Through grated arch and passage dread. 
 Portals they passed, where, deep within, 
 Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters' din ; 
 Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored. 
 Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword, 
 And many a hideous engine grim, 
 For wrenching joint and crushing limb, 
 By artists form'd, who deem'd it shame 
 And sin to give their work a name. 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 201 
 
 They halted at a low-brow'd porch. 
 
 And Brent to Allan gave the torch, 
 
 While bolt and chain he backward roli'd, 
 
 And made the bar unhasp its hold. 
 
 They enter'd : 'twas a prison-room 
 
 Of stern security and gloom, 
 
 Yet not a dungeon ; for the day 
 
 Through lofty gratings found its way, 
 
 And rude and antique garniture 
 
 Deck'd the sad walls and oaken floor ; 
 
 Such as the rugged days of old 
 
 Deem'd fit for captive noble's hold. 
 
 " Here," said De Brent, " thou mayst remain 
 
 Till the Leech visit him again. 
 
 Strict is his charge, the warders tell, 
 
 To tend the noble prisoner well." 
 
 Retiring then the bolt he drew. 
 
 And the lock's murmurs growl'd anew. 
 
 Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 
 
 A captive feebly raised his head ; 
 
 The wondering Minstrel look'd, and knew. 
 
 Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu ! 
 
 For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, 
 
 They, erring, deem'd the Chief he sought. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 As the tall ship, whose lofty prore 
 
 Shall never stem the billows more, 
 
 Deserted by her gallant band, 
 
 Amid the breakers lies astrand, — 
 
 So, on his couch, lay Roderick Dhu ! 
 
 And oft his fever'd limbs he threw 
 
 In toss abrupt, as when her sides 
 
 Lie rocking in the advancing tides, 
 
 That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, 
 
 Yet cannot heave her from her seat ; — 
 
 O, how unlike her course at sea, 
 
 Or his free step on hill and lea ! — 
 
 Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, 
 
 — '< What of thy lady ? — of my clan ? — 
 
 My mother ? — Douglas ? — tell me all ! 
 
 Have they been ruin'd in my fall ? 
 
 Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here ? 
 
 Yet speak, speak boldly, — do not fear." 
 
 (For Allan, who his mood well knew, 
 
 Was choked with grief and terror too.) — 
 
 « Who fought — who fled ? — Old man, be brief; — 
 
 Some might — for they had lost their Chief. 
 
 Who basely live ? — who bravely died?" — 
 
 <<0, calm thee, Chief!" the Minstrel cried, 
 
 '< Ellen is safe !" — " For that, thank Heaven!" 
 
 «< And hopes are for the Douglas given ; — 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 203 
 
 The Lady Margaret too is well, 
 And, for thy clan, — on field or fell, 
 Has never harp of minstrel told 
 Of combat fought so true and bold. 
 Thy stately Pine is yet unbent, 
 Though many a goodly bough is rent." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The Chieftain rear'd his form on high, 
 
 And fever's fire was in his eye ; 
 
 But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 
 
 Chequer'd his swarthy brow and cheeks. 
 
 — " Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play, 
 
 With measure bold, on festal day, 
 
 In yon lone isle, . . . again where ne'er 
 
 Shall harper play, or warrior hear ! . . . 
 
 That stirring air that peals on high. 
 
 O'er Dermid's race our victory. 
 
 Strike it !— and then, (for well thou canst,) 
 
 Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced, 
 
 Fling me the picture of the fight, 
 
 When met my clan the Saxon might. 
 
 I'll listen, till my fancy hears 
 
 The clang of swords, the crash of spears ! 
 
 These grates, these walls, shall vanish then, 
 
 For the fair field of fighting men, 
 
204 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 And my free spirit burst away, 
 
 As if it soarVl from battle-fray." 
 
 The trembling Bard with awe obey'd, 
 
 Slow on the harp his hand he laid ; 
 
 But soon remembrance of the sight 
 
 He witness'd from the mountain's height, 
 
 With what old Bertram told at night, 
 
 Awaken'd the full power of song. 
 
 And bore him in career along ; 
 
 As shallop launched on river's tide, 
 
 That slow and fearful leaves the side^ 
 
 But when it feels the middle stream. 
 
 Drives downward swift as lightning's beam. 
 
 BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINE. 
 
 " The Minstrel came once more to view 
 The eastern ridge of Ben-venue, 
 For, ere he parted, he would say 
 Farewell to lovely Loch-Achray — 
 Where shall he find, in foreign land, 
 So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! — 
 There is no breeze upon the fern. 
 
 No ripple on the lake, 
 Upon her eyrie nods the erne, 
 The deer has sought the brake ; 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 205 
 
 The small birds will not sing aloud, 
 
 The springing trout lies still, 
 So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud. 
 That swathes, as with a purple shroud, 
 
 Benledi's distant hill. 
 Is it the thunder's solemn sound 
 That mutters deep and dread, 
 Or echoes from the groaning ground 
 
 The warrior's measured tread ? 
 Is it the lightning's quivering glance 
 
 That on the thicket streams, 
 Or do they flash on spear and lance 
 The sun's retiring beams ? 
 — I see the dagger-crest of Mar, 
 I see the Moray's silver star, 
 Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon Avar, 
 That up the lake comes winding far ! 
 To hero boune for battle-strife. 
 
 Or bard of martial lay, 
 'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life, 
 One glance at their array ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Their light-arm'd archers far and near 
 Survey'd the tangled ground. 
 Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 
 A twilight forest frown'd ; 
 
206 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Their barbed horsemen, in the rear, 
 
 The stem battalia crown'd. 
 No cymbal clash'd, no clarion rang, 
 
 )Still were the pipe and drum ; 
 Save heavy tread, and armour's clang, 
 
 The sullen march was dumb. 
 There breathed no wind their crests to shake, 
 
 Or wave their flags abroad ; 
 Scarce the frail aspen seem'd to quake. 
 
 That shadow'd o'er their road. 
 Their vanward scouts no tidings bring, 
 
 Can rouse no lurking foe, 
 Nor spy a trace of living thing, 
 
 Save when they stirr'd the roe. 
 The host moves like a deep-sea wave, 
 Where rise no rocks its pride to brave. 
 
 High-swelling, dark, and slow. 
 The lake is pass'd, and now they gain 
 A narrow and a broken plain, 
 Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws ; 
 And here the horse and spearmen pause, 
 While, to explore the dangerous glen, 
 Dive through the pass the archer-men. 
 
 <' At once there rose so wild a yell 
 Within that dark and narrow dell, 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 207 
 
 As all the fiends, from heaven that fell, 
 
 Had peal'd the banner-cry of hell ! 
 Forth from the pass in tumult driven. 
 Like chaff before the wind of heaven, 
 
 The archery appear : 
 For life ! for life ! their flight they ply — 
 And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, 
 And plaids and bonnets waving high, 
 And broadswords flashing to the sk}', 
 
 Are maddening in the rear. 
 Onward they drive, in dreadful race, 
 Pursuers and pursued ; 
 
 Before that tide of flight and chase, 
 
 How shall it keep its rooted place, 
 The spearmen's twilight wood ? 
 
 — 'Down, down,' cried Mar, 'your lances down! 
 Bear back both friend and foe !' 
 
 Like reeds before the tempest's frown, 
 
 That serried grove of lances brown 
 At once lay levell'd low ; 
 
 And closely shouldering side to side, 
 
 The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 
 
 — « We'll quell the savage mountaineer, 
 As their Tinchel* cows the game ! 
 
 * A circle of sportsmen, who, by surrounding a great space, and gra- 
 dually narrowing, brought immense quantities of deer together, which 
 usually made desperate efforts to break through the Tinchel. 
 
808 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 They come as fleet as forest deer, 
 We'll drive them back as tame.' 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Bearing before them, in their course, 
 The relics of the archer force, 
 Like wave with crest of sparkling- foam. 
 Right onward did Clan- Alpine come. 
 Above the tide, each broadsword bright 
 Was brandishing like beam of light. 
 
 Each targe was dark below ; 
 And with the ocean's mighty swing, 
 When heaving to the tempest's wing, 
 
 They hurl'd them on the foe. 
 I heard the lance's shivering crash, 
 As when the whirlwind rends the ash; 
 I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, 
 As if a hundred anvils rang ! 
 But Moray wheel'd his rearward rank 
 Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank, — 
 
 — < My banner-man advance ! 
 I see,' he cried, < their column shake. — 
 
 Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake, 
 
 Upon them with the lance !' — 
 The horsemen dash'd among the rout, 
 
 As deer break throu2:h the broom ; 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 20f 
 
 Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, 
 
 They soon make lightsome room. 
 Clan-Alpine's best are backward borne — 
 
 WTiere, where was Roderick then ! 
 One blast upon his bugle-horn 
 
 Were worth a thousand men. 
 And refluent through the pass of fear 
 
 The battle's tide was pour'd ; 
 Vanish'd the Saxon's struggling spear, 
 
 Vanish'd the mountain sword. 
 As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep, 
 
 Receives her roaring linn, 
 As the dark caverns of the deep 
 
 Suck the wild whirlpool in, 
 So did the deep and darksome pass 
 Devour the battle's mingled mass ; 
 None linger now upon the plain. 
 Save those who ne'er shall fight again. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Now westward rolls the battle's din, 
 That deep and doubling pass within. 
 — Minstrel, away! the work of fate 
 Is bearing on : its issue wait, 
 Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile 
 Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. 
 
210 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Gray Ben-venue I soon repass'd, 
 Loch-Katrine lay beneath mc cast. 
 The sun is set ; — the clouds are met, 
 The lowering scowl of heaven 
 ^ An inky hue of livid blue 
 
 To the deep lake has given ; 
 Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
 Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. 
 I heeded not the eddying surge, 
 Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge. 
 Mine ear but heard the sullen sound, 
 Which like an earthquake shook the ground, 
 And spoke the stern and desperate strife 
 That parts not but with parting life. 
 Seeming, to minstrel-ear, to toll 
 The dirge of many a passing soul. 
 Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen 
 The martial flood disgorged again. 
 
 But not in mingled tide ; 
 The plaided warriors of the North 
 High on the mountain thunder forth, 
 And overhang its side ; 
 While by the lake below appears 
 The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears. 
 At weary bay each shatter'd band. 
 Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand ; 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 211 
 
 Their banners stream like taKer'd sail, 
 That flings its fragments to the gale, 
 And broken arms and disarray 
 Mark'd the fell havoc of the day. 
 
 XX. 
 
 "Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, 
 The Saxons stood in sullen trance, 
 Till Moray pointed with his lance, 
 
 And cried — ' Behold yon isle ! — 
 See ! none are left to guard its strand, 
 But women weak that wring the hand : 
 'Tis there of yore the robber band 
 
 Their booty wont to pile ; — 
 My purse, with bonnet-pieces store. 
 To him will swim a bow-shot o'er. 
 And loose a shallop from the shore. 
 Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then, 
 Lords of his mate, and brood, and den.'— 
 Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung. 
 On earth his casque and corslet rung, 
 
 He plunged him in the wave : — 
 All saw the deed — the purpose knew, 
 And to their clamours Ben- venue 
 
 A mingled echo gave ; 
 The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 
 
212 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The helpless females scream lor fear, 
 
 And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
 
 'Twas then, as by the outcry riven, 
 
 Pour'd down at once the lowering heaven ; 
 
 A whirlwind swept Loch-Katrine's breast, 
 
 Her billows reared their snowy crest. 
 
 Well for the swimmer swell'd they high. 
 
 To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; 
 
 For round him shower'd, 'mid rain and hail, 
 
 The vengeful arrows of the Gael. — 
 
 In vain. — He nears the isle — and lo ! 
 
 His hand is on a shallop's bow. 
 
 — Just then a flash of lightning came. 
 
 It tinged the waves and strand with flame ; — 
 
 I mark'd Duncraggan's widow'd dame. 
 
 Behind an oak I saw her stand — 
 
 A naked dirk gleara'd in her hand : — 
 
 It darken'd, — but amid the moan 
 
 Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — 
 
 Another flash ! — the spearmen floats 
 
 A weltering corse beside the boats, 
 
 And the stern Matron o'er him stood, 
 
 XXI. 
 
 <« < Revenge ! revenge !' the Saxons cried ; 
 The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 213 
 
 Despite the elemental rage, 
 
 Again tliey hurried to engage ; 
 
 But, ere they closed in desperate fight, 
 
 Bloody with spurring came a knight, 
 
 Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag. 
 
 Waved 'tvvixt the hosts a milkwhite flag. 
 
 Clarion and trumpet by his side 
 
 Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, 
 
 While, in the Monarch's name, afar, 
 
 A herald's voice forbade the war, 
 
 For Bothwell's lord, and Roderick bold, 
 
 Were both, he said, in captive hold." 
 
 — But here the lay made sudden stand, 
 
 The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand ! — 
 
 Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 
 
 How Roderick brook'd his minstrelsy : 
 
 At first, the Chieftain, to the chime. 
 
 With lifted hand, kept feeble time ; 
 
 That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 
 
 Varied his look as changed the song ; 
 
 At length, no more his deafen'd ear 
 
 The minstrel melody can hear; 
 
 His face grows sharp, — his hands are clench'd, 
 
 As if some pang his heart-strings wrench'd ; 
 
 Set are his teeth ; his fading eye 
 
 Is sternly fix'd on vacancy: — 
 
214 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew 
 His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu !- 
 Old Allan-Bane look'd on aghast, 
 While grim and still his spirit pass'd ; 
 But when he saw that life was fled, 
 He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 LAMENT. 
 
 " And art thou cold, and lowly laid, 
 Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 
 Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade ! 
 For thee shall none a requiem say ? 
 — For thee, — who loved the minstrel's lay, 
 For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, 
 The shelter of her exiled line, 
 E'en in this prison-house of thine, 
 I'll wail for Alpine's honour'd Pine ! 
 
 " What groans shall yonder valleys fill ! 
 What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill ! 
 What tears of burning rage shall thrill, 
 When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 
 Thy fall before the race was won. 
 Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 215 
 
 There breathes not clansman of thy line, 
 But would have given his life for thine — 
 wo for Alpine's honour'd Pine ! 
 
 « Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — 
 The captive thrush may brook the cage, 
 The prison'd eagle dies for rage. 
 Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! 
 And, when its notes awake again, 
 Even she, so long beloved in vain, 
 Shall with my harp her voice combine, 
 And mix her wo and tears with mine. 
 To wail Clan-Alpine's honour'd Pine." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Ellen, the while, with bursting heart, 
 Remain'd in lordly bower apart, 
 Where play'd, with many-colour'd gleams, 
 Through storied pane, the rising beams. 
 In vain on gilded roof they fall. 
 And lighten'd up a tapestried wall, 
 And for her use a menial train 
 A rich collation spread in vain. 
 The banquet proud, the chamber gay, 
 Scarce drew one curious glance astray ; 
 Or, if she look'd, 'twas but to say. 
 With better omen dawn'd the day 
 
316 THE LADY OFTHE LAKE. 
 
 In that lone isle, where waved on high 
 
 The dun deer's hide for canopy ; 
 
 Where oft her noble father shared 
 
 The simple meal her care prepared, 
 
 While Liifra, crouching by her side, 
 
 Her station claim'd with jealous pride, 
 
 And Douglas, bent on woodland game. 
 
 Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, 
 
 Whose answer, oft at random made. 
 
 The wandering of his thoughts betray'd. 
 
 Those who such simple joys have known, 
 
 Are taught to prize them when they're gone. 
 
 But sudden, see, she lifts her head ! 
 
 The window seeks wuth cautious tread ! 
 
 What distant music has the power 
 
 To win her in this woful hour ! 
 
 'Twas from a turret that o'erhung 
 
 Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. 
 
 XXIV. 
 LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN. 
 
 «< My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 
 My idle greyhound loathes his food, 
 My horse is weary of his stall, 
 And I am sick of captive thrall. 
 I wish I were as I have been, 
 Hunting the hart in forest green, 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 217 
 
 With bended bow and bloodhound free, 
 For that's the hfe is meet for me. 
 
 « I hate to learn the ebb of time, 
 From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, 
 Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 
 Inch after inch, along the wall. 
 The lark was wont my matins ring, 
 The sable rook my vespers sing ; 
 These towers, although a king's they be, 
 Have not a hall of joy for me. 
 
 " No more at dawning morn I rise, 
 And sun myself in Ellen's eyes. 
 Drive the fleet deer the forest through, 
 And homeward wend with evening dew ; 
 A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 
 And lay my trophies at her feet. 
 While fled the eve on wing of glee, — 
 That life is lost to love and me !" 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The heart-sick lay was hardly said. 
 The list'ner had not turn'd her head. 
 It trickled still, the starting tear, 
 When light a footstep struck her ear, 
 And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near. 
 
318 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 She turn'd the hastier, lest again 
 The prisoner should renew his strain. 
 " welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said; 
 t' How may an almost orphan maid 
 
 Pay the deep debt" " say not so ' 
 
 To me no gratitude you owe. 
 
 Not mine, alas ! the boon to give, 
 
 And bid thy noble father live ; 
 
 I can but be thy guide, sweet maid. 
 
 With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 
 
 No tyrant he, though ire and pride 
 
 May lead his better mood aside. 
 
 Come, Ellen, come ! — 'tis more than time. 
 
 He holds his court at morning prime." 
 
 With beating heart, and bosom rung. 
 
 As to a brother's arm she clung. 
 
 Gently he dried the falling tear. 
 
 And gently whisper'd hope and cheer ; 
 
 Her faltering steps half led, half stay'd. 
 
 Through gallery fair and high arcade. 
 
 Till, at his touch, its wings of pride 
 
 A portal arch unfolded wide. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Within ^twas brilliant all and light, 
 A thronging scene of figures bright ; 
 It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight. 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 219 
 
 As when the setting sun has given 
 Ten thousand hues to summer even, 
 And, from their tissue, fancy frames 
 Aerial knights and fairy dames. 
 Still by Fitz-James her footing stay'd ; 
 A few faint steps she forward made, 
 Then slow her drooping head she raised. 
 And fearful round the presence gazed ; 
 For him she sought, who own'd this state, 
 The dreaded prince whose will was fate ! — 
 She gazed on many a princely port, 
 Might well have ruled a royal court ; 
 On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 
 Then turn'd bewilder'd and amazed. 
 For all stood bare ; and, in the room, 
 Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume- 
 To him each lady's look was lent ; 
 On him each courtier's eye was bent ; 
 Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen. 
 He stood in simple Lincoln green. 
 The centre of the glittering ring, — 
 And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's Kin^! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 As wreath of snow, on mountain breast. 
 Slides from the rock that gave it rest, 
 
220 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Poor Ellen glided from her stay, 
 
 And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; 
 
 No word her choking voice commands, — 
 
 She show'd the ring — she clasp'd her hands. 
 
 ! not a moment could he brook, 
 
 The generous prince, that suppliant look! 
 
 Gently he raised her, and the while, 
 
 Check'd with a glance the circle's smile ; 
 
 Graceful, but grave, her brow he kiss'd, 
 
 And bade her terrors be dismiss'd : — 
 
 << Yes, Fair ; the wandering poor Fitz-James 
 
 The fealty of Scotland claims. 
 
 To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring ; 
 
 He will redeem his signet ring. 
 
 Ask nought for Douglas; — yestereven. 
 
 His prince and he have much forgiven : 
 
 Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 
 
 I, from^ his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 
 
 We would not to the vulgar crowd 
 
 Yield what they craved with clamour loud ; 
 
 Calmly we heard and judged his cause, 
 
 Our council aided, and our laws. 
 
 1 staunch'd thy father's death-feud stern, 
 With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairne ; 
 And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own 
 The friend and bulwark of our Throne. 
 
THE GU ARD-ROOxM. 221 
 
 But lovely infidel, how now ? 
 What clouds thy misbelieving brow ? 
 Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; 
 Thou must confirm this doubting maid." 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Then fi^rth the noble Douglas sprung, 
 
 And on his neck his daughter hung. 
 
 The Monarch drank, that happy hour. 
 
 The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — 
 
 When it can say, with godlike voice, 
 
 Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! 
 
 Yet would not James the general eye 
 
 On nature's raptures long should pry ; 
 
 He stepp'd between — " Nay, Douglas, nay. 
 
 Steal not my proselyte away ! 
 
 The riddle 'tis my right to read. 
 
 That brought this happy chance to speed. 
 
 Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 
 
 In life's more low but happier way, 
 
 'Tis under name which veils my power, 
 
 Nor falsely veils — for Stirling's tower. 
 
 Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims. 
 
 And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 
 
 Thus watch I o'er insulted laws. 
 
 Thus learn to right the injured cause.'* 
 
223 THE LADYOFTHE LAKE. 
 
 Then, in a tone apart and low, 
 
 — " Ah, little trait'ress ! none must know 
 
 What idle dream, what lighter thought, 
 
 What vanity full dearly bought, 
 
 Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 
 
 My spellbound steps to Ben-venue, 
 
 In dangerous hour, and all but gave 
 
 Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive !" 
 
 Aloud he spoke — " Thou still dost hold 
 
 That little talisman of gold, 
 
 Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring — 
 
 What seeks fair Ellen of the King !" 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Full well the conscious maiden guess'd, 
 
 He probed the weakness of her breast ; 
 
 But, with that consciousness, there came 
 
 A lightening of her fears for Graeme, 
 
 And more she deem'd the Monarch's ire 
 
 Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire, 
 
 Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; 
 
 And to her generous feeling true. 
 
 She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. 
 
 " Forbear thy suit ; — the King of kings 
 
 Alone can stay life's parting wings. 
 
 I know his heart, I know his hand, 
 
 Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand ;- 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 223 
 
 My fairest earldom would I give 
 To bid Clan- Alpine's Chieftain live ! — 
 Hast thou no other boon to crave ? 
 No other captive friend to save?" 
 Blushing, she turn'd her from the King, 
 And to the Douglas gave the ring, 
 Ao if she wish'd her sire to speak 
 The suit that stain'd her glowing cheek. — 
 «<Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, 
 And stubborn justice holds her course. 
 Malcolm, come forth!" — And, at the word, 
 Dow^n kneePd the Grasme to Scotland's Lord. 
 « For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues. 
 From thee may Vengeance claim her dues, 
 Who, nurtured underneath our smile. 
 Hast paid our care by treahcerous wile, 
 And sought, amid thy faithful clan, 
 A refuge for an outlaw'd man. 
 Dishonouring thus thy loyal name. 
 Fetters and warder for the Graeme !" — 
 His chain of gold the King unstrung. 
 The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, 
 Then gently drew the glittering band. 
 And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 
 
224 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Harp of the North, farewell ! The hills grow dark, 
 
 On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; 
 In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark. 
 
 The deer, half-seen, are to tlie covert wending. 
 Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending, 
 
 And tlie wild breeze, thy ^Yilder minstrelsy ; 
 Thy numbers sweet with Nature's vespers blending, 
 
 With distant echo from the fold and lea, 
 And herdboy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. 
 
 Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp! 
 
 Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, 
 And little reck I of the censure sharp 
 
 May idly cavil at an idle lay. 
 Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, 
 
 Through secret woes tlie world has never known, 
 ^^^len on the weary night dawn'd wearier day. 
 
 And bitterer was the grief devour'd alone. 
 That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress ! is thine own. 
 
 Hark ! as my lingering footsteps slow retire. 
 Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! 
 
THE GUARD-ROOM. 225 
 
 'Tis now a Seraph bold, with touch of fire, 
 'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. 
 
 Receding now, the dying numbers ring 
 Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell, 
 
 And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 
 A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — 
 
 And now, 'tis silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well ! 
 
 END OF CANTO SIXTH 
 
>' T I S. 
 
JVOTES TO CA^^TO FIEST, 
 
 NOTE I. 
 
 The heights of Uam-var. 
 
 St. iv. p. 17. 
 
 Ua-var, as the name is pronounced, or more properly Uaigh- 
 mor, is a mountain to the northeast of the village of Callender 
 in Menteilh, deriving its name, which signifies the great den, or 
 cavern, from a sort of retreat among the rocks on the south side, 
 said, by tradition, to have been the abode of a giant. In latter 
 times it was the refuge of robbers and banditti, who have been 
 only extirpated within these forty or fifty years. Strictly speak- 
 ing, this stronghold is not a cave, as the name woold imply, 
 but a sort of small enclosure, or recess, surrounded \vith large 
 rocks, and open above head. It may have been originally 
 designed as a toil for deer, who might get in from the outside, 
 but would find it difficult to return. This opinion prevails among 
 the old sportsmen and deer-stalkers in the neighbourhood. 
 
 U 229 
 
230 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 NOTE II. 
 
 Two dogs of black St. HuberCs breed. 
 
 St. vii. p. 19. 
 
 " The hounds which we call Saint Hubert's hounds are com- 
 monly all blacke, yet neuertheless, their race is so mingled at 
 these days, that we find them of all colours. These are the 
 hounds which the abbots of St. Hubert haue always kept some 
 of their race or kind, in honour or remembrance of the saint, 
 which was a hunter with S. Eustace. Whereupon Ave may 
 conceiue that (by the grace of God) all good huntsmen shall 
 follow them into paradise. To returne vnto my former purpose, 
 this kind of dogges hath beene dispersed thorough the countries 
 of Henault, Lorayne, Flaunders, and Burgoyne. They are 
 mighty of body, neuertheless their legges are low and short, 
 likewise they are not swift, although they be very good of scent, 
 hunting chaces which are farre straggled, fearing neither water 
 nor cold, and doe more couet the chaces that smell, as foxes, 
 bore, and such hke, than other, because they find themselues 
 neither of swiftness nor courage to hunt and kill the chaces that 
 {ire lighter and swifter. The bloodhounds of this colour prooue 
 good, especially those that are cole-blacke, but I made no great 
 account to breede on them, or to keepe the kind, and yet I found 
 a booke which a hunter did dedicate to a prince of Lorayne, 
 Avhich seemed to loue hunting much, wherein was a blason which 
 the same hunter gaue to his bloodhound, called Souyllard, which 
 was white : 
 
 My name came first from holy Hubert's race, 
 Souyllard my sire, a hound of singular grace. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 231 
 
 Whereupon we may presume that some of the kind prooue white 
 sometimes, but they are not of the kind of the Greffiers or Bouxes, 
 which we haue at these dayes." — The noble art of Venerie or 
 Hunting, translated and collected for the use of all Noblemen 
 and Gentlemen. — Lond. 1611, 4to, p. 15. 
 
 NOTE III. 
 
 For the death-wound and death-halloo. 
 Muster'' d his breath, his whinyard dretv. 
 
 St. viii. p. 19. 
 
 When the stag turned to bay, the ancient hunter had the 
 perilous task of going in upon, and killing or disabling the des- 
 perate animal. At all times, the task was dangerous, and to be 
 adventured upon wisely and warily, either by getting behind the 
 stag while he Avas gazing on the hounds, or by watching an 
 opportunity to gallop roundly in upon him, and kill him with the 
 sword. See many directions to this purpose in the Booke of 
 Hunting, chap. 41. Wilson, the historian, has recorded a provi- 
 dential escape which befell him in this hazardous sport, while a 
 youth and follower of the Earl of Essex. 
 
 "Sir Peter Lee, of Lime, in Cheshire, invited my lord one 
 summer to hunt the stagg. And having a great stagg in chase, 
 and many gentlemen in the pursuit, the stagg took soyle. And 
 divers, whereof I was one, alighted, and stood with swords 
 drawne, to have a cut at him, at his coming out of the water. 
 The staggs there being wonderfully fierce and dangerous, made 
 us youths more eager to be at him. But he escaped us all. And 
 it was my misfortune to be hindered of my coming nere him, the 
 
t32 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 way being sliperie, by a falle ; which gave occasion to some, who 
 did not know mee, to speak as if I bad fahie for feare, AVhicb 
 being told mee, I left the slagg, and followed the gentleman who 
 [first] spake it. But I found him of that cold temper, that it 
 seems his words made an escape from him ; as by his denial and 
 repentance it appeared. But this made mee more violent in pur- 
 suit of the stagg, to recover my reputation. And I happened to 
 be the only horseman in, when the dogs sett him up at bay ; and 
 approaching near him on horsebacke, he broke through the dogs, 
 and run at mee, and tore my horse's side with his homes, close 
 by my thigh. Then I quitted my horse, and grew more cunning 
 (for the dogs had sette him up againe), stealing behind him with 
 my sword, and cut his hamstrings ; and then got upon his back, 
 and cut his throate ; which, as I was doing, the company came 
 in, and blamed my rashness for running such a hazard." — 
 Peck's Desiderata Curiosa, ii. 464. 
 
 NOTE IV. 
 
 Xo pathicay meets the icanderer'' s ken. 
 
 St. xiv. p. 24. 
 
 Until the present road was made through this romantic pass, 
 there was no mode of issuing out of the defile, called the Trosachs. 
 excepting by a sort of ladder, composed of the branches and roots 
 of the trees. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 233 
 
 NOTE V. 
 
 To meet with Highland plunderers here, 
 Were worse than loss of steed or deer. 
 
 St. xvi. p. 27. 
 
 The clans who inhabited the romantic regions in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Loch-Katrine, were, even until a late period, much 
 addicted to predatory excursions upon their Lowland neighbours. 
 
 " In former times, those parts of this district which are 
 situated beyond the Grampian range, were rendered almost inac- 
 cessible, by strong barriers of rocks, and mountains, and lakes. 
 It was a border country, and though on the very verge of the low 
 country, it was almost totally sequestered from the world, and, as 
 it were, insulated with respect to society. 
 
 " 'Tis well known, that, in the Highlands, it was, in former 
 times, accounted not only lawful, but honourable, among hostile 
 tribes, to commit depredations on one another; and these habits 
 of the age were perhaps strengthened in this district, by the cir- 
 cumstances which have been mentioned. It bordered on a 
 countr}', the inhabitants of which, while they were richer, were 
 less warlike than they, and Avidely differenced by language and 
 manners." — Graham's Sketches of Scenery in Perthshire. Edin. 
 180G, p. 97. 
 
 The reader will therefore be pleased to remember that the; 
 scene of this poem is laid in a time. 
 
 When looming faulds, or sweeping of a glen, 
 Had still been held the deed of gallant men. 
 
234 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 NOTE VI. 
 
 Ji gray-hair'' d sire, whose eye intent 
 Was on the vision' d future bent. 
 
 St. xxiii. p 35. 
 
 If force of evidence could authorize us to believe facts incon- 
 sistent with the general laws of nature, enough might be produced 
 in favour of the existence of the second-sight. It is called in 
 Gaelic Taishitaraugh, from Taish, an unreal or shadowy ap- 
 pearance ; and those possessed of the faculty are called Taisha- 
 trin, which may be aptly translated visionaries. Martin, a steady 
 believer in the second-sight, gives the following account of it: 
 
 " The second-sight is a singular faculty of seeing an otherwise 
 invisible object, without any previous means used by the person 
 that uses it for that end ; the vision makes such a lively impres- 
 sion upon the seers, that they neither see, nor think of any thing 
 else, except the vision, as long as it continues ; and then they 
 appear pensive or jovial, according to the object which was 
 represented to them. 
 
 "At the sight of a vision, the eyelids of the person are erected, 
 and the eyes continue staring until the object vanish. This is 
 obvious to others who are bj', when the persons happen to see a 
 vit^ion, and occurred more than once to my own observation, 
 and to others that were with me. 
 
 "There is one in Skie, of whom his acquaintance observed, 
 that when he sees a vision, the inner part of his eyelids turns so 
 far upwards, that after the object disappears he must draw them 
 down with his fingers, and sometimes employ others to draw 
 them down, which he finds to be the much easier way. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 235 
 
 '•This faculty of the sccoiid-sight does not hneally descend 
 in a family, as some imagine, for I know several parents who 
 are endowed Avith it, but their children not, and vice versa; 
 neither is it acquired by any previous compact. And, after a 
 strict inquiry, I could never learn that this faculty was com- 
 niunicable any way whatsoever. 
 
 " The seer knows neither the object, time, nor place of a 
 vision, before it appears ; and the same object is often seen by 
 different persons, living at a considerable distance from one 
 another. The true way of judging as to the time and circum- 
 stance of an object, is by observation ; for several persons of 
 judgment, without this faculty, are more capable to judge of the 
 design of a vision, than a novice that is a seer. If an object 
 appear in the day or night, it will come to pass sooner or later 
 accordingly. 
 
 "If an object is seen early in the morning (which is not 
 frequent), it will be accomplished in a few hours afterwards. 
 If at noon, it will commonly be accomplished that very day. 
 If in the evening, perhaps that night; if after candles be lighted, 
 it will be accomplished that night : the later always in accom- 
 plishment, by weeks, months, and sometimes years, according 
 to the time of night the vision is seen. 
 
 " When a shroud is perceived about one, it is a sure prognos- 
 tic of death : the time is judged according to the height of it 
 about the person ; for if it is seen above the middle, death is not 
 to be expected for the space of a year, and perhaps some months 
 longer; and as it is frequently seen to ascend higher towards 
 the head, death is concluded to be at hand within a few days, 
 if not hours, as dailj^ experience confirms. Examples of this 
 kind were shown me, when the persons of whom the observa- 
 tions were then made enjoyed perfect health. 
 
236 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 " One instance was lately foretold by a seer that was a 
 novice, concerning the death of one of my acquaintance ; this 
 Avas communicated to a few only, and with great confidence : I, 
 being one of the number, did not in the least regard it, until 
 the death of the person, about the time foretold, did confirm me 
 of the certainty of the prediction. The novice mentioned above 
 is now a skilful seer, as appears from many late instances : ho 
 lives in the parish of St. Mary's, the most northern in Skie. 
 
 " If a woman is seen standing at a man's left hand, it is a 
 presage that she will be his wife, whether they be married to 
 others, or unmarried, at the time of the apparition. 
 
 "If two or three women are seen at once near a man's left 
 hand, she that is next him will undoubtedly be his wife first, and 
 so on, whether all three, or the man, be single or married at 
 the time of the vision or not : of which there are several late 
 instances among those of my acquaintance. It is an ordinary 
 thing for them to see a man that is to come to the house shortly 
 afier : and if he is not of the seer's acquaintance, yet he gives 
 such a lively description of his stature, complexion, habit, &c., that 
 upon his arrival he answers the character given him in all respects. 
 
 "If the person so appearing be one of the seer's acquaintance, 
 he will tell his name, as well as other particulars ; and he can tell 
 by his countenance whether he comes in a good or bad humour. 
 
 " I have been seen thus myself by seers of both sexes, at some 
 hundred miles' distance; some that saw me in this manner had 
 never seen me personally, and it happened according to their 
 visions, without any previous design of mine to go to those places, 
 my coming there being purely accidental. 
 
 " It is ordinary with them to see houses, gardens, and trees in 
 places void of all three ; and this in progress of time uses to be 
 accomplished : as at Mogshot, in the Isle of Skie, where there 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 237 
 
 were but a few sorry cow-houses, thatched with straw, yet in a 
 very few years after, the vision, which appeared often, was accom- 
 plished, by the building of several good houses on the very spot 
 represented by the seers, and by the planting of orchards there. 
 
 " To see a spark of fire fall upon one's arm or breast is a fore- 
 runner of a dead child to be seen in the arms of those persons ; of 
 which there are several fresh instances. 
 
 " To see a seat empty at the time of one's sitting in it, is a pre- 
 sage of that person's death soon after. 
 
 " When a novice, or one that has lately obtained the second- 
 sight, sees a vision in the night-time without doors, and comes 
 near a fire, he presently falls into a swoon. 
 
 " Some find themselves as it were in a crowd of people, having 
 a corpse which they carry along with them ; and after such visions 
 the seers come in sweating, and describe the people that appeared : 
 if there be any of their acquaintance among 'em, they give an 
 account of their names, as also of the bearers, but they know 
 nothing concerning the corpse. 
 
 " All those who have the second-sight do not always see these 
 visions at once, though they be together at the time. But if one 
 who has this faculty designedly touch his fellow-seer at the instant 
 of a vision's appearing, then the second sees it as well as the first ; 
 and this is sometimes discerned by those that are near them on 
 such occasions." — Martin's Description of the Western Islands, 
 1716, 8vo, p. 300, et seq. 
 
 To these particulars innumerable examples might be added, all 
 attested by grave and credible authors. But, in despite of evidence, 
 wliich neither Bacon, Boyle, nor Johnson, were able to resist, the 
 Taisch, with all its visionary properties, seems to be now univer- 
 sally abandoned to the use of poetry. The exquisitely beautiful 
 poem of Lochiel will at once occur to the recollection of every reader 
 
»3S NOTES TO CANTO FIRST, 
 
 xNOTE A II. 
 
 Here, for retreat in dangerous hour, 
 Some chief had framed a rustic bower 
 
 St. XXV. p. 34. 
 
 The Celtic chieftains, whose hves were continually exposed lo 
 peril, had usually, in the most retired spot of their domains, some 
 place of retreat for the hour of necessity, which, as circumstances 
 would admit, was a tower, a cavern, or a rustic hut, in a strong 
 and secluded situation. One of these last gave refuge to the un- 
 fortunate Charles Edward, in his perilous wanderings after the 
 battle of Culloden. 
 
 " It was situated in the face of a very rough, high, and rocky 
 mountain, called Letternilichk, still a part of Benalder, full of great 
 stones and crevices, and some scattered wood interspersed. The 
 habitation called the Cage, in the face of that mountain, was within 
 a small thick bush of wood. There were first some rows of trees 
 laid down, in order to level a floor for a habitation ; and as the 
 place was steep, this raised the lower side to an equal height with 
 the other ; and these trees, in the way of joists or planks, were 
 levelled with earth and gravel. There were betwixt the trees, 
 growing naturally on their own roots, some stakes fixed in the 
 earth, which, with the trees, were interwoven with ropes, made 
 of heath and birch twigs, up to the top of the Cage, it being a 
 round or rather oval shape ; and the whole thatched and covered 
 over with fog. The whole fabric hung, as it were, by a large tree, 
 which reclined from the one end, all along the roof, to the other, 
 and which gave it the name of the Cage ; and by chance there 
 happened to be two stones at a small distance from one another, in 
 the side next the precipice, resembling the pillars of a chimne)^ 
 
NOTES TO CANTO T I R S T. 239 
 
 where the fire was placed. The smoke had its vent out here, all 
 along the fall of the rock, which was so much of the same colour, 
 that one could discover no difference in the clearest day." — Home's 
 Historij of the Rebellion, Lond. 1802, 4to, p. 381. 
 
 NOTE VIII. 
 
 My sirens tall form might grace the part 
 Of Ferragus, or Jlseahart. 
 
 St. xxviii. p. 37. 
 
 These two sons of Anak flourished in romantic fable. The first 
 is well known to the admirers of Ariosto, by the name of Ferrau. 
 He was an antagonist of Orlando, and was at length slain by him 
 in single combat. There is a romance in the Auchinleck MS., in 
 which Ferragus is thus described : 
 
 " On a day come tiding 
 Unto Charls the King, 
 
 Al of a doughti knight 
 Was comen to Navers, 
 Stout he was and fers, 
 
 Veruagu he hight. 
 Of Babiloun the soudan 
 Thider him sende gan. 
 
 With King Charls to fight. 
 So hard he was to-fond* 
 That no dint of brond 
 
 No greued him, a phght. 
 
 ' Found, proved. 
 
240 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 " He hadde twenti men strengthe, 
 And forti fet of lengthe, 
 
 Thilke painim hede,* 
 And four feet in the face, 
 Y-meten'^ in the place, 
 
 And fiften in brede.^ 
 His nose was a fot and more ; 
 His brow, as brestles wore ;* 
 
 He that it seighe it sede. 
 He loked lotheliche 
 And was swart^ as any piche 
 
 Of him men might advede." 
 Romance of Charlemagne, i. 461-484. .^uchinleck MS. ,M. 265. 
 
 Ascapart, or Ascabart, makes a very material figure in the His- 
 tory of Bevis of Hampton, by whom he was conquered. — See 
 Aiichinleck MS., fol. 169. His effigies may be seen guarding 
 one side of a gate at Southampton, while the other is occupied by 
 Sir Bevis himself. The dimensions of Ascapart were little inferior 
 to those of Ferragus, if the following description be correct : 
 
 " They metten with, a geaunt, 
 With a lotheliche semblaunt, 
 He was wonderliche strong, 
 Rome" thretti fote long. 
 His berd was bot gret and rowe ;^ 
 A space of a fot between is^ browe ; 
 
 •Had. "Were. ^ Rough. 
 
 2 Measured. ^'Qlz.ck. *His. 
 
 3 Breadth. « Fully. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 241 
 
 His clob was, to yeue* a strok, 
 A lite bodi of an oak.^ 
 Beues hadde of him wonder gret, 
 And askede him what a het,^ 
 And yaf^ men of his contre 
 Were ase meche^ ase was he. 
 Me name,' a sede," ' is Ascopard, 
 Garci me sent hiderward, 
 For to bring this quene ayen, 
 And the Beues her of-slen.^ 
 Icham Garci is^ champioun. 
 And was i-driue out of me^ toun 
 Al for that ich was so lite.^" 
 Eueri man me wolde smite, 
 Ich was so lite and so merrugh," 
 Eueri man me clepede dwerugh.^ 
 And now icham in this londe, 
 I wax mor'^ ich understonde, 
 And strangere than other tene ;^* 
 And that schel on us be sene.' " 
 Sir Bevis of Hampton, i. 2512. Auchinhck MS., fol. 189. 
 
 ' Give. * He said. " Lean. 
 
 2 The stem of a little oak tree. ' Slay. '^ Dwarf. 
 
 " He hight, was called. ^ His. '^ Greater, taller. 
 
 *If. 9 My. "Ten. 
 
 * Great. 'o Little. 
 
242 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 NOTE IX. 
 
 Though all unask'd his birth and name. 
 
 St. xxix. p. 38. 
 
 The Highlanders, who carried hospitality to a punctilious excess, 
 are said to have considered it as churlish, to ask a stranger his 
 name or lineage, before he had taken refreshment. Feuds were 
 so frequent among them, that a contrary rule would, in many cases, 
 have produced the discovery of some circumstance which might 
 have excluded the guest from the benefit of the assistance he stood 
 in need of. 
 
 NOTE X. 
 
 A harp unseen 
 
 FilVd vp the symphony between. 
 
 St. XXX, p. 39. 
 
 "They (meaning the Highlanders) delight much in musicke, 
 but chiefly in harps and clairschoes of their own fashion. The 
 strings of the clairschoes are made of brasse wire, and the strings 
 of the harps of sinews; which strings they strike either with their 
 nayles, growing long, or else with an instrument appointed for 
 that use. They take great pleasure to decke their harps and 
 clairschoes with silver and precious stones ; the poore ones that 
 cannot attayne hereunto, deck them with christall. They sing 
 verses prettily compound, contayning (for the most part) prayses 
 of vahant men. There is not almost any other argument, whereof 
 their rhymes intreat. They speak the ancient French language, 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 243 
 
 altered a little."^ — " The harp and clairschoes are now only heard 
 of in the Highlands in ancient song. At what period these instru- 
 ments ceased to be used, is not on record ; and tradition is silent 
 on this head. But, as Irish harpers occasionally visited the High- 
 lands and Western Isles till lately, the harp might have been 
 extant so late as the middle of the present century. Thus far we 
 know, that from remote times down to the present, harpers were 
 received as welcome guests, particularly in the Highlands of Scot- 
 land ; and so late as the latter end of the sixteenth century, as 
 appears by the above quotation, the harp was in common use 
 among the natives of the Western Isles. How it happened that 
 the noisy and inharmonious bagpipe banished the soft and expres- 
 sive harp, we cannot say ; but certain it is, that the bagpipe is 
 now the only instrument that obtains universally in the Highknid 
 districts." — Cabipbell's Journey through North Britain. Lond. 
 1803, 4to, i. 175. 
 
 Mr. Gunn, of Edinburgh, has lately published a curious essay 
 upon the harp and harp music of the Highlands of Scotland. That 
 the instrument was once in common use there, is most certain. 
 Cleland numbers an acquaintance with it among the few accom- 
 plishments which his satire allows to the Highlanders : 
 
 In nothing they're accounted sharp 
 Except in bagpipe or in harp. 
 
 ' Vide " Certayne Matters concerning the Reaime of Scotland, &c., 
 as they were Anno Domini, 1597. Lond. 1603." 4to. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 NOTE I. 
 
 Modi's genial influence roused a minstrel gray. 
 
 St. i. p. 46. 
 
 The Highland chieftains, to a late period, retained in their 
 service the bard, as a family officer. The author of the Letters 
 from Scotland, an officer of engineers, quartered at Inverness about 
 1720, gives a minute account of the office, and of a bard, whom he 
 heard exercise his talent of recitation. 
 
 "The bard is skilled in the genealogy of all the Highland fami- 
 lies, sometimes preceptor to the j'oung laird, celebrates in Irish 
 verse the original of the tribe, the famous warlike actions of the 
 successive heads, and sings his own lyricks as an opiate to the 
 chief, when indisposed for sleep ; but poets are not equally 
 esteemed and honoured in all countries, I happened to be a wit- 
 ness of the dishonour done to the muse, at the house of one of the 
 chiefs, where two of these bards were set at a good distance, at the 
 lower end of a long table, with a parcel of Highlanders of no extra- 
 ordinary appearance, over a cup of ale. Poor inspiration ! 
 
 •'They were not asked to drink a glass of wine at our table, 
 though the whole company consisted only of the great man, one 
 of his near relations, and myself. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 245 
 
 "After some little time, tlio chit-f ordered one of them to sing 
 me a Highland song. The bard readily obej^ed, and with a hoarse 
 voice, and in a tune of kw various notes, began, as I was told, one 
 of his own lyricks ; and when he had proceeded to the fourth or 
 fifth stanza, I perceived, by the names of several persons, glens, 
 and mountains, which I had known or heard of before, that it was 
 an account of some clan battle. But in his going on, the chief 
 (who piques himself upon his school-learning) at some particular 
 passage, bid him cease, and cryed out, ' There's nothing like that 
 in Virgil or Homer.' I bowed, and told him I believed so. This 
 you may believe was very edifying and delightful." — Letters 
 from Scotland, ii. 1G7. 
 
 NOTE II. 
 
 The Graeme. 
 
 St. vi. p. 50. 
 
 The ancient and powerful family of Graham, (which, for metri- 
 cal reasons, is here spelt after the Scottish pronunciation,) anciently 
 held extensive possessions in the counties of Dumbarton and Stir- 
 ling. Few families can boast of more historical renown, having 
 claim to three of the most remarkable characters in the Scottish 
 annals. Sir John the Gra;me, the faithful and undaunted partaker 
 of the labours and patriotic warfare of Wallace, fell in the unfor- 
 tunate field of Falkirk, in 1298. The celebrated Marquis of 
 Montrose, in whom De Retz saw realized his abstract idea of the 
 heroes of antiquity, was the second of these worthies. And, not- 
 withstanding the severity of his temper, and the rigour with which 
 he executed the oppressive mandates of the princes whom he 
 served, I do not hesitate to name as the third, John Graeme, of 
 
246 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 Claverhouse, Viscount of Dundee, whose heroic death, in the arms 
 of victory, may be allowed to cancel the memory of his cruelty to 
 the non-conformists, during the reigns of Charles II. and James II. 
 
 NOTE III. 
 
 This harp, which erst Saint Modan sivay\l. 
 
 St. vii. p. 51. 
 
 I am not prepared to show that Saint Modan was a performer 
 on the harp. It was, however, no unsaintly accomplishment ; for 
 Saint Dunstan certainly did play upon that instrument, which, 
 retaining, as was natural, a portion of the sanctity attached to its 
 master's character, announced future events by its spontaneous 
 sound. " But labouring once in these mechanic arts for a devoute 
 matrone that had sett him on work, his violl, that hung by him on 
 the wall, of its own accord, without anie man's helpe, distinctly 
 sounded this anthime : Gaudent in ccelis animal sanctorum qui 
 Christi vestigia sunt secuti ; et quia pro ejus amore sanguinem 
 suum fuderunt, ideo cum Christo gaudent scternum. Whereat 
 all the companie being much astonished, turned their eyes from 
 behoulding him working, to looke on that strange accident." .... 
 " Not long after, manie of the court that hitherunto had borne a 
 kind of fayned friendship towards him, began now greatly to envie 
 at his progresse and rising in goodness, using many crooked, 
 backbiting meanes to diffame his vertues with the black marlces 
 of hypocrisie. And the better to authorize their calumnie, they 
 brought in this that happened in the violl, affirming it to have 
 been done by art magick. What more ! this wicked rumour en- 
 creased dayly, till the king and others of the nobilitie taking hould 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 247 
 
 thereof, Dunstan grew odious in their sight. Therefore he rcsolued 
 to leaue the court and goe to Elphegus, surnamed the Bauld, then 
 bishop of Winchester, who was his cozen. Which his enemies 
 understanding, they layd vvayte for him in the way, and hauing 
 throwne him off his horse, beate him, and dragged him in the dirt 
 in the most miserable manner, meaning to haue slain him, had not 
 a companie of mastiue dogges, that came unlookt upon them, 
 defended and redeemed him from their crueltie. When with 
 sorrow he was ashamed to see dogges more humane than they. 
 And giuing thankes to Almightie God, he sensibly againe per- 
 ceiued that the tunes of his vioU had giuen him a warning of 
 future accidents." — Flower of the Lives of the most renoivned 
 Saincts of England, Scotland, and Ireland, by the R. Father 
 HiEROME Porter. Doway, 1632, 4to, tome i. p. 438. 
 
 The same supernatural circumstance is alluded to by the ano- 
 nymous author of "Grim, the Collier of Croydon." 
 
 " \_Dunstan's harp sounds on the wcdl.'] 
 
 Forest. Hark, hark, my lord, the holy abbot's harp 
 
 Sounds by itself so hanging on the wall ! 
 
 Dunstan. Unhallow'd man, that scorn'st the sacred rode. 
 
 Hark, how the testimony of my truth 
 
 Sounds heavenly music with an angel's hand, 
 
 To testify Dunslan's integrity, 
 
 And prove thy active boast of no efTect." 
 
248 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 NOTE IV. 
 
 Ere Douglasses, to ruin driven. 
 Were exiled from their native heaven. 
 
 St. viii. p. 52. 
 
 The downfall of the Douglasses of the house of Angus, dLiring 
 the reign of James Y., is the event alluded to in the text. The 
 Earl of Angus, it will be remembered, had married the queen 
 dowager, and availed himself of the right which he thus acquired, 
 as well as of his extensive power, to retain the king in a sort of 
 tutelage, which approached very near to captivity. Several open 
 attempts were made to rescue James from this thraldom, with 
 which he was well known to be deeply disgusted ; but the valour 
 of the Douglasses and their allies gave them the victory in every 
 conflict. At length, the king, while residing at Falkland, contrived 
 to escape by night out of his own court and palace, and rode full 
 speed to Stirhng Castle, where the governor, who was of the 
 opposite faction, joyfully received him. Being thus at liberty, 
 James speedily summ.oned around him such peers as he knew to 
 be most inimical to the domination of Angus, and laid his com- 
 plaint before them, says Pitscottie, "with great lamentations; 
 showing to them how he was holden in subjection thir years 
 bygone, by the Earl of Angus, and his kin and friends, who 
 oppressed the whole country, and spoiled it, under the pretence 
 of justice and his authority ; and had slain many of his lieges, 
 kinsmen, and friends, because they would have it mended at their 
 hands, and put him at liberty, as he ought to have been, at the 
 counsel of his own lords, and not have been subjected and con- 
 nected with no particular men, by the rest of his nobles : There- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 249 
 
 fore, said he, I desire, my lords, that I ma}' be satisfied of the said 
 earl, his kin, and friends ; for I avow, that Scotland shall not hold 
 us both, while (i. e., till) I be revenged on him and his. 
 
 "The lords hearing the king's complaint and lamentation, and 
 also the great rage, fury, and malice, that he bore toward the Earl 
 of Angus, his kin and friends, they concluded all, and thought it 
 best, that he should be summoned to underly the law ; if he fand 
 not caution, nor yet compear himself, that he should be put to the 
 horn, with all his kin and friends, so many as were contained in 
 the letters. And further, the lords ordained, by advice of his 
 majesty, that his brother and friends should be summoned to find 
 caution to underly the law within a certain day, or else be put to 
 the horn. But the earl appeared not, nor none for him ; and so 
 he was put to the horn, with all his kin and friends ; so many as 
 were contained in the summons, that compeared not, Avere 
 banished, and holden traitors to the king." — Lindsay of Pit- 
 scottie's History of Scotland. Edinburgh, fol. p. 142. 
 
 NOTE V. 
 
 In Holyrood a knight he slew. 
 
 St. xii. p. 55. 
 
 This was by no means an uncommon occurrence in the court 
 of Scotland ; nay the presence of the sovereign himself scarcely 
 restrained the ferocious and inveterate feuds which were the per- 
 petual source of bloodshed among the Scottish nobility. The 
 following instance of the murder of Sir WiUiam Stuart of Ochil- 
 tree, called The Bloody, by the celebrated Francis, Earl of Both- 
 well, may be produced among many ; but, as the offence given in 
 
250 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 the royal court will hardly bear a vernacular translation, I shall 
 leave the story in Johnstone's Latin, referring for particulars to the 
 naked simplicity of BirroU's Diary, 30th July, 1588. 
 
 " Mors improbi hotninis non tam ipsa immerita, quam pessimo 
 exemplo in publicum foed6 perpetrata. Gulielmus Stuartus Alkil- 
 trius, Arani frater, natura ac moribus cujus soepius memini, vulgo 
 propter silim sanguinis sanguinarius dictus, a Bothvelio, in Sanctae 
 Crucis Regia exardescente ira, mendacii probo lacessitus, obsca?- 
 num osculum libcrius retorquebat ; Bothvelius hanc contumeliam 
 tacitus tulit, sed ingentem irarum molem animo concepit. Utrin- 
 que postridi6 Edinburgi conventum, totidem numcro comitibus 
 armatis, prassidii causa, et acriter pugnatum est ; ca;teris amicis et 
 clientibus metu torpentibus, aut vi absterritis, ipse, Stuartus fortis- 
 simo dimicat, tandem excusso gladio a Bothvelio, Scythicu feritate 
 transfoditur, sine cujusquam misericordia ; habuit itaque quern 
 debuit exitum. Dignus erat Stuartus qui pateretur ; Bothvelius 
 qui faceret. Vulgus sanguinem sanguine prajdicabat, et horum 
 cruore innocuorum manibus egregiii parentatum." — R, Joiinstoni 
 Historia Rerum Britannic arum, ab anno 1572 ad annum 1028. 
 Amstelodami, 1G55, fol. p. 135. 
 
 NOTE VI. 
 
 The Douglas, like a stricken deer, 
 Disowned by every noble peer. 
 
 St. xii. p. 55. 
 
 The exiled state of this powerful race is not exaggerated in this 
 and subsequent passages. The hatred of James against the race 
 of Douglas was so inveterate that, numerous as their allies were, 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 251 
 
 and disregarded as the regal authority had usually been in similar 
 cases, their nearest friends, even in the most remote parts of Scot- 
 land, durst not entertain them, unless under the strictest and closest 
 disguise. James Douglas, son of the banished Earl of Angus, 
 afterwards well known by the title of Earl of Morton, lurked, 
 during the exile of his family, in the north of Scotland, under the 
 assumed name of James Innes, otherwise James the Grieve, (i. e., 
 Reve or Bailiff.) "And as he bore the name," says Godscroft, 
 " so did he also execute the office of a grieve or overseer of the 
 lands and rents, the corn and cattle, of him with whom he lived." 
 From the iiabits of frugality and observation which he acquired in 
 this humble situation, the historian traces that intimate acquaint- 
 ance with popular character, which enabled him to rise so high in 
 the state, and that honourable economy by which he repaired and 
 established the shattered estates of Angus and Morton. — History 
 of the House of Douglas. Edinburgh, 1743, vol. ii. p. IGO. 
 
 NOTE VII. 
 
 Maronnari's cell. 
 
 St. xiii. p. 57. 
 
 The parish of Kilmarnock, at the eastern extremity of Loch- 
 Lomond, derives its name from a cell or chapel, dedicated to Saint 
 Maronock, or Marnock, or Maronnan, about whose sanctity very 
 little is now remembered. There is a fountain devoted to him in 
 the same parish, but its virtues, like the merits of its patron, have 
 fallen into oblivion. 
 
252 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 NOTE VIII. 
 
 Bracklinn's thundering wave. 
 
 St. xiv. p. 57. 
 
 This is a beautiful cascade made at a place called the Bridge 
 of Bracklinn, by a mountain stream called the Keltic, about a mile 
 from the village of Callender, in Menteith. Above a chasm, where 
 the brook precipitates itself from a height of at least fifty feet, there 
 is thrown, for the convenience of the neighbourhood, a rustic foot- 
 bridge, of about three feet in breadth, and without ledges, which is 
 scarcely to be crossed by a stranger without awe and apprehension. 
 
 NOTE IX. 
 
 For Tineman forged by fairy lore. 
 
 St. XV. p. 59. 
 
 Archibald, the third Earl of Douglas, was so unfortunate in all 
 his enterprises, that he acquired the epithet of Tineman, because 
 he lined, or lost, his followers in«very battle which he fought. He 
 was vanquished, as every reader must remember, in the bloody 
 battle of Homildon Hill, near Wooler, where he himself lost an 
 eye, and was made a prisoner by Hotspur. He was no less un- 
 fortunate when allied with Percy, being wounded and taken at the 
 battle of Shrewsbury. He was so unsuccessful in an attempt to 
 besiege Roxburgh Castle, that it was called the Fold Eaid, or dis- 
 graceful expedition. His ill fortune left him indeed at the battle 
 of Beauge, in France ; but it was only to return with double 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 253 
 
 jmphasis at the subsequent action of Verneuil, the last and most 
 unlucky of his encounters, in which he fell, with the flower of the 
 Scottish chivalry, then serving as auxiliaries in France, and about 
 two thousand common soldiers, A. D. 1424. 
 
 NOTE X. 
 
 Did, self-unscabharded, foreshow 
 The footstep of a secret foe. 
 
 St. XV. p. 59. 
 
 The ancient warriors, whose hope and confidence rested chiefly 
 in their blades, were accustomed to deduce omens from them, 
 especially from such as were supposed to have been fabricated by 
 enchanted skill, of which we have various instances in the ro- 
 mances and legends of the time. The wonderful sword Skof- 
 NUNG, wielded by the celebrated Hrolf Kraka, was of this descrip- 
 tion. It was deposited in the tomb of the monarch at his death, 
 and taken from thence by Skeggo, a celebrated pirate, who be- 
 stowed it upon his son-in-law, Kormak, with the following curious 
 directions : "The manner of using it will appear strange to you. 
 A small bag is attached to it, which take heed not to violate. Let 
 not the rays of the sun touch the upper part of the handle, nor 
 unsheathe it, unless thou art ready for battle. But when thou 
 comest to the place of fight, go aside from the rest, grasp and 
 extend the sword, and breathe upon it. Then a small worm will 
 creep out of the handle : lower the handle, that he may more 
 easily return into it." Kormak, after having received the sword, 
 returned home to his mother. He showed the sword, and attempted 
 to draw it, as unnecessarily as ineffectually, for he could not pluck 
 
254 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 it out of the sheath. His mother, Dalla, exclaimed, "Do not 
 despise the comisel given to thee, my son." Kormak, however, 
 repeating his efforts, pressed down the handle with his feet, and 
 tore off the bag, when Skofnung emitted a hollow groan : but still 
 he could not unsheathe the sword. Kormak then went out with 
 Bessus, whom he had challenged to fight with him, and drew 
 apart at the place of combat. He sat down upon the ground, and 
 ungirding the sword, which he bore above his vestments, did not 
 remember to shield the hilt from the rays of the sun. In vain he 
 endeavoured to draw it, till he placed his foot against the hilt ; 
 then the worm issued from it. But Kormak did not rightly handle 
 the weapon, in consequence whereof good fortune deserted it. As 
 he unsheathed Skofnung, it emitted a hollow murmur. — Bartholini 
 de Causis Contemvtx a Danis adhuc Gentilibiis Mortis, Libri 
 Tres. Hafniae, 16S9, 4to, p. 574. 
 
 To the history of this sentient and prescient weapon, I beg leave 
 to add, from memory, the following legend, for which I cannot 
 produce any better authority. A young nobleman, of high hopes 
 and fortune, chanced to lose his way in the town which he inha- 
 bited, the. capital, if I mistake not, of a German province. He 
 had accidentally involved himself among the narrow and winding 
 streets of a suburb, inhabited by the lowest order of the people, 
 and an approaching thunder-shower determined him to ask a short 
 refuge in the most decent habitation that was near him. He 
 knocked at the door, w^hich was opened by a tall man, of a grisly 
 and ferocious aspect, and sordid dress. The stranger was readily 
 ushered to a chamber, where swords, scourges, and machines, 
 which seemed to be implements of torture, were suspended on the 
 wall. One of these swords dropped from its scabbard, as the no- 
 bleman, after a moment's hesitation, crossed the threshold. His 
 host immediately stared at him with such a marked expression, 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 255 
 
 that the young man could not help demanding his name and busi- 
 ness, and the meaning of his looking at him so fixedly. " I am," 
 answered the man, " the public executioner of this city ; and the 
 incident you have observed is a sure augury, that I shall, in dis- 
 charge of my duty, one day cut off your head with the weapon 
 which has just now spontaneously unsheathed itself." The noble- 
 man lost no time in leaving his place of refuge ; but, engaging in 
 some of the plots of the period, was shortly after decapitated by 
 that very man and instrument. 
 
 Lord Lovat is said, by the author of the Letters from Scotland, 
 to have affirmed, that a number of swords, that hung up in the 
 hall of the mansion-house, leaped of themselves out of the scabbard 
 at the instant he was born. This story passed current among his 
 clan, but, Hke that of the story I have just quoted, proved an un- 
 fortunate omen. — Letters from Scotland, vol. ii. p. 214. 
 
 NOTE XI. 
 
 The pibroch proud. 
 
 St. xvii. p. 61. 
 
 The connoisseurs in pipe-music affect to discover, in a well- 
 composed pibroch, the imitative sounds of march, conflict, flight, 
 pursuit, and all the "current of a heady fight." To this opinion, 
 Dr. Beattie has given his suffrage in the following elegant pas- 
 sage : — " A pibroch is a species of tune, pecuhar, I think, to the 
 Highlands and Western Isles of Scotland. It is performed on a 
 bagpipe, and differs totally from all other music. Its rhythm is 
 so irregular, and its notes, especially in the quick movement, so 
 mixed and huddled together, that a stranger finds it impossible to 
 
256* NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 reconcile his ear to it, so as to perceive its modulation. Some of 
 these pibrochs, being intended to represent a battle, begin with a 
 g'rave motion, resembUng a march ; then gradually quicken into 
 the onset; run off with noisy confusion and turbulent rapidity, to 
 imitate the conflict and pursuit; then swell into a few flourishes 
 of triumphant joy ; and perhaps close with the wild and slow wail- 
 ings of a funeral procession." — Essay on Laughter and Ludicrous 
 Composition, chap. iii. Note. 
 
 NOTE XII. 
 
 Roderigh vich .Alpine Dhv, ho ! ieroe ! 
 
 St. xix. p. 63. 
 
 Besides his ordinary name and surname, which were chiefly 
 used in the intercourse with the Lowlands, every Highland chief 
 had an epithet expressive of his patriarchal dignity as head of the 
 clan, and which was common to all his predecessors and succes- 
 sors, as Pharaoh to the kings of Egypt, or Arsaces to those of Par- 
 thia. This name was usually a patronymic, expressive of his 
 descent from the founder of the family. Thus the Duke of Argyle 
 is called Mac Callanmore, or the Son of Colin the Great. Some- 
 times, however, it is derived from armorial distinctions, or the 
 memory of some great feat ; thus Lord Seaforth, as chief of the 
 Mackenzies, or Clan-Kennet, bears the epithet of Caber-fae, or 
 Buck's Head, as representative of Colin Fitzgerald, founder of the 
 family, who saved the Scottish king, when endangered by a stag. 
 But besides this title, which belonged to his office and dignity, the 
 chieftain had usually another peculiar to himself, which distin- 
 guished him from the chieftains of the same race. This was 
 sometimes derived from complexion, as dhu or roy ; sometimes 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 257 
 
 from size, as beg ox more ; at other times, from some particular 
 exploit, or from some peculiarity of habit or appearance. The line 
 of the text therefore signifies, " Black Roderick, the descendant of 
 Alpine." 
 
 The song itself is intended as an imitation of the jorrams, or 
 boat-songs of the Highlanders, which were usually composed in 
 honour of a favourite chief. They are so adapted as to keep time 
 with the sweep of the oars, and it is easy to distinguish between 
 those intended to be sung to the oars of a galley, where the stroke 
 is lengthened and doubled as it Avere, and those which were timed 
 to the rowers of an ordinary boat. 
 
 NOTE XIII. 
 
 The best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side. 
 
 St. XX, p. 63. 
 
 The Lennox, as the district is called, which encircles the lower 
 extremity of Loch-Lomond, was pecuharly exposed to the incur- 
 sions of mountaineers, Avho inhabited the inaccessible fastnesses at 
 the upper end of the lake, and the neighbouring district of Loch- 
 Katrine. These were often marked by circumstances of great 
 ferocity, of which the noted conflict of Glenfruin is a celebrated 
 instance. This was a clan-battle, in which the Macgregors, headed 
 by AUaster Macgregor, chief of the clan, encountered the sept of 
 Colquhouns, commanded by Sir Humphry Colquhoun of Luss. 
 It is on all hands allowed, that the action was desperately fought, 
 and that the Colquhouns were defeated with slaughter, leaving 
 two hundred of their name dead upon the field. But popular tra- 
 dition has added other horrors to the tale. It is said, that Sir 
 Humphry Colquhoun, who was on horseback, escaped to the 
 
258 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 castle of Benechra, or Banochar, and was next day dragged out 
 and murdered by the victorious Macgregors in cold blood. Bucha- 
 nan of Auchmar, however, speaks of his slaughter as a subsequent 
 event, and as perpetrated by the Macfarlanes. Again it is re- 
 ported, that the Macgregors murdered a number of youths, whom 
 report of the intended battle had brought to be spectators, and 
 whom the Colquhouns, anxious for their safety, had shut up in a 
 barn, to be out of danger. One account of the Macgregors denies 
 this circumstance entirely : another ascribes it to the savage and 
 blood-thirsty disposition of a single individual, the bastard brother 
 of the Laird of Macgregor, who amused himself with this second 
 massacre of the innocents, in express disobedience to the chief, by 
 whom he was left their guardian during the pursuit of the Colqu- 
 houns. It is added, that Macgregor bitterly lamented this atrocious 
 action, and prophesied the ruin which it must bring upon their 
 ancient clan. The following account of the conflict, which is 
 indeed drawn up by a friend of the Clan Gregor, is altogether 
 silent on the murder of the youths. " In the spring of the year 
 1602, there happened great dissensions and troubles between the 
 Laird of Luss, chief of the Colquhouns, and Alexander, Laird of 
 Macgregor. The original of these quarrels proceeded from inju- 
 ries and provocations mutually given and received, not long before. 
 Macgregor, however, wanting to have them ended in friendly 
 conferences, marched, at the head of two hundred of his clan, to 
 Leven, which borders on Luss, his country, with a view of setthng 
 matters by the mediation of friends : but Luss had no such inten- 
 tions, and projected his measures with a different view ; for he 
 privately drew together a body of three hundred horse, and five 
 hundred foot, composed partly of his own c'an and their followers, 
 and partly of the Buchanans, his neighbours, and resolved to cut 
 off Macgregor and his party to a man, in case the issue of the con- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 259 
 
 ference did not answer his inclination. But matters fell otherwise 
 than he expected ; and though Macgregor had previous informa- 
 tion of his insidious design, yet, dissembling his resentment, he 
 kept the appointment, and parted good friends in appearance. 
 
 "No sooner was he gone, than Luss, thinking to surprise him 
 and his party in full security, and without any dread or apprehen- 
 sion of his treacher)% followed with all speed, and came up with 
 him at a place called Glenfroon. Macgregor, upon the alarm, 
 divided his men into tvA-o parties, the greatest part whereof he 
 commanded himself, and the other he committed to the care of his 
 brother John, who, by his orders, led them about another way, and 
 attacked the Colquhouns in flank. Here it was fought wuth great 
 bravery on both sides for a considerable time ; and, notwithstand- 
 ing the vast disproportion of numbers, Macgregor, in the end, 
 obtained an absolute victory. So great was the rout, that two 
 hundred of the Colquhouns were left dead upon the spot, most of 
 the leading men were killed, and a multitude of prisoners taken. 
 But what seemed most surprising and incredible in this defeat, 
 was, that none of the Macgregors were missing, except John, the 
 laird's brother, and one common fellow, though indeed many of 
 them were wounded." — Professor Ross's History of the Family 
 of Sutherland, 1631. 
 
 The consequences of the battle of Glen-fruin were verj' cala- 
 mitous to the family of Macgregor, who had already been consi- 
 dered as an unruly clan. The widows of the slain Colquhouns, 
 sixty, it is said, in number, appeared in doleful procession before 
 the king at StirUng, each riding upon a white palfry, and bearing 
 in her hand the bloody shirt of her husband displayed upon a 
 pike. James VI. was so much moved by the complaints of this 
 "choir of mourning dames," that he let loose his vengeance 
 against the Macgregors, without either bounds or moderation. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 The very name of the clan was proscribed, and those by whom h 
 had been borne were given up to sword and fire, and absolutely 
 hunted down by bloodhounds, like wild beasts. Argyle and the 
 Campbells, on the one hand, Montrose, with the Grahames and 
 Buchanans, on the other, are said to have been the chief instru- 
 ments in suppressing this devoted clan. The Laird of Macgregor 
 surrendered to the former, on condition that he would take him out 
 of Scottish ground. But, to use Birrel's expression, he kept "a 
 Highlandman's promise ;" and, although he fulfilled his word to 
 the letter, by carrying him as far as Berwick, he afterwards brought 
 him back to Edinburgh, where he was executed with eighteen of 
 his clan. — Birrel's Diary, 2d Oct., 1003. The Clan Gregor 
 being thus driven to utter despair, seemed to have renounced the 
 laws from the benefit of v»'hich they were excluded, and their 
 depredations produced new acts of council, confirming the severity 
 of their proscription, which had only the efiect of rendering them 
 still more united and desperate. It is a most extraordinary proof 
 of the ardent and invincible spirit of clanship, that, notwithstanding 
 the repeated proscriptions providently ordained by the legislature, 
 " for the thneous preventing the disorders and oppression that 
 may fall out by the said name and clan of Macgregors, and their 
 followers," they were, in 1715 and 1745, a potent clan, and con- 
 tinue to subsist as a distinct and numerous race. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 261 
 
 NOTE XIV. 
 
 The King's vindictive pride 
 Boasts to have tamed the Border side. 
 
 St. xxviii. p. 71. 
 
 In 1529, James V. made a convention at Edinburgh, for the 
 purpose of considering the best mode of quelhng the Border 
 robbers, who, during the license of his minority, and the troubles 
 which followed, had committed many exorbitances. Accordingly, 
 he assembled a flying army of ten thousand men, consisting of his 
 principal nobility and their followers, who were directed to bring 
 their hawks and dogs Avith them, that the monarch might refresh 
 himself with sport during the intervals of military execution. 
 With this array he swept through Ettricke Forest, where he 
 hanged, over the gate of his own castle, Piers Cockburn of Hen- 
 derland, who had prepared, according to tradition, a feast for his 
 reception. He caused Adam Scott of Tushielaw also to be exe- 
 cuted, who was distinguished by the title of King of the Border. 
 But the most noted victim of justice, during that expedition, was 
 John Armstrong of Gilnokie, famous in Scottish song, who, con- 
 fiding in his own supposed innocence, met the king, with a retinue 
 of thirty-six persons, all of whom were hanged at Carlenrig, near 
 the source of the Teviot. The effect of this severity was such, 
 that, as the vulgar expressed it, " the rush-bush kept the cow," 
 and " thereafter was great peace and rest a long time, where- 
 through the king had great profit ; for he had ten thousand sheep 
 going in the Ettricke Forest in keeping by Andrew Bell, who 
 made the king as good count of them as they had gone in the 
 bounds of Fife." — Pitscottif.'s History, p. 153, 
 
262 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 NOTE XV. 
 
 JVhat grace for Highland chiefs judge ye. 
 By fate of Border chicalry. 
 
 St. xxviii. p. 72. 
 
 James was, in fact, equally attentive to restrain rapine and feud; 
 oppression in every part of his dominions. ''The king past 1 
 the Isles, and there held justice courts, and punished both thit 
 and traitor according to their demerit. And, also, he caused gre; 
 men to show their holdings, wherethrough he found many of th 
 said lands in non-entry ; the which he confiscate and brought horn 
 to his own use, and afterwards annexed them to the crown, as y 
 shall hear. Syne brought many of the great men of the Isk 
 captive with him, such as Mud3^art, M-Connel, M'Loyd of th 
 Lewes, M'Neil, M'Lane, M'Intosh, John Mudyard, M'Kaj 
 M'Kenzie, with many other that I cannot rehearse at this tinu 
 Some of them he put in ward and some in court, and some he too 
 pledges for good rule in time coming. So he brought the Isles 
 both north and south, in good rule and peace ; wherefore he ha 
 great profit, service, and obedience of people a long time hereafter 
 and as long as he had the heads of the country in subjection, the^ 
 lived in great peace and rest, and there was great riches and polic; 
 by the king's justice." — Pitscottie, p. 152. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 2G3 
 
 NOTE XVI. 
 
 Best safe till morning — pity Uivere 
 Such cheek should feel the midnight air. 
 
 St. XXXV. p. 79. 
 
 Hardihood was in every respect so essential to the character of 
 a Highlander, that the reproach of effeminacy was the most bittei 
 which could be thrown upon him. Yet it was sometimes hazarded 
 on what Ave might presume to think slight grounds. It is reported 
 of old Sir Ewen Cameron of Lochiel, when upwards of seventy, 
 that he was surprised by night on a hunting or military expedition. 
 He wrapped him in his plaid, and lay contentedly down upon the 
 snow, with which the ground happened to be covered. Among 
 his attendants, who were preparing to take their rest in the same 
 manner, he observed that one of his grandsons, for his better 
 accommodation^ had rolled a large snow-ball, and placed it below 
 his head. The wrath of the ancient chief was awakened by a 
 symptom of what he conceived to be degenerate luxury. " Out 
 upon thee," said he, kicking the frozen bolster from the head 
 which it supported, "art thou so effeminate as to need a pillow ?" 
 The officer of engineers, whose curious letters from the Highlands 
 have been more than once quoted, tells a similar story of Mac- 
 donald of Keppoch, and subjoins the following remarks : 
 
 " This and many other stories are romantick ; but there is one 
 thing, that at first thought might seem very romantick, of which I 
 have been credibly assured, that when the Highlanders are con- 
 strained to he among the hills, in cold dry windy weather, they 
 sometimes soak the plaid in some river or burn, {i. e., brook ;) and 
 then, holding up a corner of it a little above their heads, they turn 
 
264 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 themselves round and round, till they are enveloped by the whole 
 mantle. They then lie themselves down on the heath, upon the 
 leeward side of some hill, Avhere the wet and the warmth of their 
 bodies make a steam, like that of a boiling kettle. The wet, they 
 say, keeps them warm by thickening the stuff, and keeping the 
 wind from penetrating. 
 
 " I must confess I should have been apt to question this fact, 
 had I not frequently seen them wet from morning to night ; and. 
 even at the beginning of the rain, not so much as stir a few yards 
 to shelter, but continue in it without necessity, till they were, as 
 we say, wet through and through. And that is soon effected by 
 the looseness and spunginess of the plaiding ; but the bonnet is 
 frequently taken off, and wrung Hke a dishclout, and then pui 
 on again. 
 
 " They have been accustomed from their infancy to be ofter 
 wet, and to take the water like spaniels, and this is become £ 
 second nature, and can scarcely be called a hardship to them, inso 
 much that I used to say, they seemed to be of the duck-kind, anc 
 to love water as w^ell. Though I never saw this preparation foi 
 sleep in windy weather, yet, setting out early in a morning froiT 
 one of the huts, I have seen the marks of their lodging, where th( 
 ground has been free from rime or snow, which remained al 
 around the spot where they had lain." — Letters from Scotland 
 Lond. 1754, 8vo, ii. p. lOS. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 265 
 
 NOTE XVII. 
 
 His henchman came. 
 
 St. XXXV. p. 79. 
 
 " This officer is a sort of secretary, and is to be ready, upon 
 all occasions, to venture his life in defence of his master ; and at 
 drinking-bouts he stands behind his seat, at his haunch, from 
 whence his title is de,rived, and watches the conversation, to see if 
 any one offends his patron. 
 
 " An English officer being in company with a certain chieftain, 
 and several other Highland gentlemen, near Kilhchumen, had an 
 argument with the great man; and both being well warmed with 
 usky, at last the dispute grew very hot. 
 
 "A youth, who was henchman, not understanding one word of 
 English, imagined his chief was insulted, and thereupon drew his 
 pistol from his side, and snapped it at the officer's head ; but the 
 pistol missed fire, otherwise it is more than probable he might 
 have suffered death from the hand of that little vermin. 
 
 " But it is very disagreeable to an Englishman over a bottle, 
 with the Highlanders, to see every one of them have his gilly, 
 that is, his servant, standing behind him all the while, let what 
 will be the subject of conversation." — Letters from Scotland, 
 ii. 159. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIED. 
 
 NOTE I. 
 
 The Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round. 
 
 St. i. p. 83. 
 
 When a chieftain desired to summon his clan, upon any sudden 
 or important emergency, he slew a goat, and making a cross of 
 any light wood, seared its extremities in the fire, and extinguished 
 them in the blood of the animal. This was called the Fiery Cross, 
 also Crcan Tarigh, or the Cross of Shame, because disobedience 
 to what the symbol implied inferred infamy. It was delivered to 
 a swift and trusty messenger, who ran full speed with it to the 
 next hamlet, where he presented it to the principal person, with a 
 single word, implying the place of rendezvous. He who received 
 the symbol was bound to send it forward, with equal despatch, to 
 the next village ; and thus it passed, with incredible celerity, 
 through all the district which owed allegiance to the chief, and 
 also among his allies and neighbours, if the danger was common 
 to them. At sight of the Fiery Cross, every man from sixteen 
 years old to sixty, capable of bearing arms, was obliged instantly 
 to repair, in his best arms and accoutrements, to the place of ren- 
 dezvous. He who failed to appear suffered the extremities of fire 
 and sword, which were emblematically denounced to the disobe- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 267 
 
 dient by the bloody and burnt marks upon this warlike signal 
 During the civil war of 1745-6, the Fiery Cross often made its 
 circuit ; and upon one occasion it passed through the whole dis 
 trict of Breadalbane, a tract of thirty-two miles, in three hours 
 The late Alexander Stewart, Esq., of Invernahyle, described to 
 me his having sent round the Fiery Cross through the district of 
 Appine, during the same commotion. The coast was threatened 
 by a descent from two English frigates, and the flower of the 
 young men were with the army of Prince Charles Edward, then 
 in England : yet the summons was so effectual, that even old age 
 and childhood obeyed it; and a force was collected in a few hours, 
 so numerous and so enthusiastic, that all attempt at the intended 
 diversion upon the country of the absent warriors was in prudence 
 abandoned as desperate. 
 
 This practice, like some others, is common to the Highlanders 
 with the ancient Scandinavians, as will appear by the following 
 extract from Olaus Magnus : 
 
 " When the enemy is upon the sea-coast, or within the limits of 
 northern kingdomes, then presently, by the command of the pro- 
 vincial governours, with the counsel and consent of the old soldiers 
 who are notably skilled in such like business, a staff of three hands' 
 length, in the common sight of them all, is carried by the speedy 
 running of some active young man unto that village or city, with 
 this command, — that on the 3. 4. or 8. day, one, two, or three, or 
 else every man in particular, from 15 years old, shall come with 
 his arms, and expences for ten or twenty days, upon pain that his' 
 or their houses shall be burnt (which is intimated by the burning 
 of the staff), or else the master to be hanged (which is signified 
 by the cord tied to it), to appear speedily on such a bank, or field, 
 or valley, to hear the cause he is called, and to receive orders from 
 the said provincial governours what he shall do. Wherefore th.. 
 
268 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 messenger, swifter than any post or waofgon, having done his 
 connmission, comes slowly back again, bringing a token with him 
 that he hath done all legally ; and every moment one or another 
 runs to another village, and tells those places what they must 
 do." .... "The messengers, therefore, of the footmen, that are 
 to give warning to the people to meet for the battail, run fiercely 
 and swiftly ; for no snow, nor rain, nor heat can stop them, nor 
 night hold them ; but they will soon run the race they undertake. 
 The first messenger tells it to the next village, and that to the 
 next ; and so the hubbub runs all over till they all know it in that 
 stift or territory, where, when, and wherefore they must meet." — 
 Olaus Magnus's History of the Goths, Enghshed by J. S., Lond. 
 1658, book iv. chap. 3, 4. 
 
 NOTE II. 
 
 That Monh, of savage form and face. 
 
 St. iv. p. 86. 
 
 The state of religion in the middle ages afforded considerable 
 facilities for those whose mode of life excluded them from regular 
 Avorship, to secure, nevertheless, the ghostly assistance of confess- 
 ors, perfectly willing to adapt the nature of their doctrine to the 
 necessities and peculiar circumstances of their flock. Robin Hood, 
 it is well known, had his celebrated domestic chaplain Friar Tuck. 
 And that same curtal friar was probably matched in manners and 
 appearance by the ghostly fathers of the Tynedale robbers, who 
 are thus described in an excommunication fulminated against their 
 patrons by Richard Fox, Bishop of Durham, tempore Henrici VIII. 
 " We have further understood, that there are many chaplains in 
 the said territories of Tynedale and Redesdale, who are pubHc 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 269 
 
 and open maintainers of concubinage, irregular, suspended, excom- 
 municated, and interdicted persons, and withal so utterly ignorant 
 of letters, that it has been found by those who objected this to 
 them, that there were some who, having celebrated mass for ten 
 years, were still unable to read the sacramental service. We 
 have also understood there are persons among them who, although 
 not ordained, do take upon them the offices of priesthood ; and in 
 contempt of God, celebrate the divine and sacred rites, and ad- 
 minister the sacraments, not only in sacred and dedicated places, 
 but in those which are profane and interdicted, and most wretch- 
 edly ruinous ; they themselves being attired in ragged, torn, and 
 most filthy vestments, altogether unfit to be used in divine or even 
 in temporal offices. The which said chaplains do administer 
 sacraments and sacramental rites to the aforesaid manifest and 
 infamous thieves, robbers, depredators, receivers of stolen goods, 
 and plunderers, and that without restitution, or intention to restore, 
 as evinced by the fact ; and do also openly admit them to the rites 
 of ecclesiastical sepulchre, without exacting security for restitution, 
 although they are prohibited from doing so by the sacred canons as 
 well as by the institutes of the saints and fathers. All which infers 
 the heavy peril of their own souls, and is a pernicious example to 
 the other believers in Christ, as well as no slight, but an aggra- 
 vated injury to the numbers despoiled and plundered of their 
 goods, gear, herds, and chattels."* 
 
 To this lively and picturesque description of the confessors and 
 churchmen of predatory tribes, there may be added some curious 
 
 ' The Monition against the Robbers of Tynedale and Redesdale with 
 which I was favoured by my friend Mr. Surtees, of Mainsforth, may be 
 found in the original Latin, in the Appendix to the Introduction to the 
 Border Minstrelsy, No. vii. fourth edition. 
 z2 
 
270 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 particulars respecting the priests attached to the several septs of 
 native Irish, during the reign of dueen EHzabeth. These friars 
 had indeed to plead, that the incursions, which they not only par- 
 doned, but even encouraged, were made upon those hostile to 
 them, as well in religion as from national antipathy. But by Pro- 
 testant writers they are uniformly alleged to be the chief instru- 
 ments of Irish insurrection, the very well-spring of all rebellion 
 towards the English government. Lithgow, the Scottish traveller, 
 declares the Irish wood-kerne, or predatory tribes, to be but the 
 hounds of their hunting priests, who directed their incursions 
 by their pleasure, partly for sustenance, partly to gratify ani- 
 mosity, partly to foment general division, and always for the 
 better security and easier domination of the friars.* Derrick, the 
 liveliness and minuteness of whose descriptions may frequently 
 apologize for his doggerel verses, after describing an Irish feast, 
 and the encouragement given, by the songs of the bards, to its 
 termination in an incursion upon the parts of the country more 
 immediately under the dominion of the English, records the no 
 less powerful arguments used by the friar to excite their ani- 
 mosity : 
 
 " And more t' augment the flame 
 
 and rancour of their harte, 
 The friar, of his counsells vile, 
 
 to rebelles doth imparte, 
 Affirming that it is 
 
 an almose deede to God, 
 To make the English subjects taste 
 
 the Irish rebells' rodde. 
 
 ' Lithgow's Travels, first edit. p. 431. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO TIIIIID. 271 
 
 To spoile, to kill, to burne, 
 
 this frier's counsell is ; 
 And for the doing of the same, 
 
 he warrantes heavenlie blisse. 
 He tells a holie tale ; 
 
 the white he tournes to blacke : 
 And through the pardons in his male, 
 
 he workes a knavishe knacke." 
 
 The wreckful invasion of a part of the English pale is then 
 described with some spirit; the burning of houses, driving off 
 cattle, and all pertaining to such predatory inroads, is illustrated 
 by a rude cut. The defeat of the Irish, by a party of English 
 soldiers from the next garrison, is then commemorated, and in 
 like manner adorned with an engraving, in which the friar is 
 exhibited mourning over the slain chieftain ; or, as the rubric 
 expresses it, 
 
 " The frier then, that treacherous knave, with ough ough-hone 
 lament, 
 To see his cousin Devill's-son to have so foul event." 
 
 The matter is handled at great length in the text, of which the 
 following verses are more than sufficient sample : 
 
 " The frier seying this, 
 
 laments that lucklesse parte, 
 And curseth to the pitte of hell 
 
 the death man's sturdie harte : 
 Yet for to quight them with 
 
 the frier taketh paine. 
 
272 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 For all the synnes that ere he did 
 
 remission to obtains. 
 And therefore serves his booke, 
 
 the candeli and the bell ; 
 But thinke you that such apishe toies 
 
 bring damned souls from hell ? 
 It 'longs not to my parte 
 
 infernall things to knowe ; 
 But I beleve till later daie, 
 
 thei rise not from belovve. 
 Yet hope that friers give 
 
 to this rebellious rout, 
 If that their soules should chaunce in heil, 
 
 to bringe them quicklie out, 
 Doeth make them lead suche lives, 
 
 as neither God nor man, 
 Without revenge for their desartes, 
 
 perraitte or suffer can. 
 Thus friers are the cause, 
 
 the fountain, and the spring. 
 Of hurleburles in this lande, 
 
 of eche unhappie thing. 
 Thei cause them to rebell 
 
 against their soveraigne queene ; 
 And through rebellion often tymes, 
 
 their lives doe vanish cleane. 
 So as by friers meanes, 
 
 in whom all follies swimme. 
 The Irishe karne doc often lose 
 
 the life, with hedde and limme." 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 273 
 
 As the Irish tribes, and those of the Scottish Highlands, are 
 much more intimately allied by language, manners, dress, and 
 customs, than the antiquaries of either country have been willing 
 to admit, I flatter myself I have here produced a strong warrant 
 for the character sketched in the text.* 
 
 The following picture, though of a different kind, serves to 
 establish the existence of ascetic religionists, to a comparatively 
 late period, in the Highlands and Western Isles. There is a 
 great deal of simplicity in the description, for which, as for much 
 similar information, I am obliged to Dr. John Martin, who visited 
 the Hebrides at the suggestion of Sir Robert Sibbald, a Scottish 
 antiquary of eminence, and early in the eighteenth century pub- 
 lished a description of them, which procured him admission 
 into the Royal Society. He died in London about 1719. His 
 Avork is a strange mixture of learning, observation, and gross 
 credulity. 
 
 "I remember," says this author, "I have seen an old lay- 
 capuchin here (in the island of Benbecula), called in their lan- 
 guage Brahir-Bocht, that is. Poor Brother ; which is literally 
 true ; for he answers this character, having nothing but what is 
 given him : he holds himself fully satisfied with food and raiment, 
 and lives in as great simplicity as any of his order ; his diet is 
 very mean, and he drinks only fair water : his habit is no less 
 mortifying than that of his brethren elsewhere; he wears a short 
 coat, which comes no farther than his middle, with narrow 
 sleeves like a waistcoat : he wears a plaid before it, girt about 
 
 ' This curious picture of Ireland was inserted by the author in the 
 republication of Somers' Tracts, vol. i., in which the plates have been 
 also inserted, from the only impressions known to exist, belonging to the 
 copy in the Advocates' Library. See Somers' Tracts, vol. i. pp. 591, 594 
 
274 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 the middle, which reaches to his knee : the plaid is fastened on 
 his breast with a wooden pin, his neck bare, and his feet often so 
 too : he wears a hat for ornament, and the string about it is a 
 bit of a fisher's line, made of horse-hair. This plaid he wears 
 instead of a gown worn by those of his order in other countries. 
 I told him he wanted the flaxen girdle that men of his order 
 usuallj'^ wear : he ansAvered me, that he wore a leathern one. 
 which was the same thing. Upon the matter, if he is spoke to 
 when at meat, he answers again : which is contrary to the 
 custom of his order. This poor man frequently diverts himself 
 with angling of trouts ; he lies upon straw, and has no bell (as 
 others have) to call him to his devotion, but only his conscience, 
 as he told me." — Martin's Description of the. Western Islands, 
 p. 82. 
 
 NOTE III. 
 
 Of Brian'' s birth strange talcs were told. 
 
 St. V. p. 87. 
 
 The legend which follows is not of the author's invention. It 
 is possible he may differ from modern critics in supposing that 
 the records of human superstition, if peculiar to, and charac- 
 teristic of, the country in which the scene is laid, are a legitimate 
 subject of poetry. He gives, however, a ready assent to the 
 narrower proposition, which condemns all attempts of an irre- 
 gular and disordered fancy to excite terror, by accumulating a 
 train of fantastic and incoherent horrors, whether borrowed from 
 all countries, and patched upon a narrative belonging to one 
 which knew them not, or derived from the author's own ima- 
 gination. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 275 
 
 In the present case, therefore, I appeal to the record which I 
 have transcribed, with the variation of a very few words, from 
 the geographical collections made by the Laird of Macfarlane. I 
 know not whether it be necessary to remark, that the miscella- 
 neous concourse of youths and maidens on the night, and on the 
 spot where the miracle is said to have taken place, might, in an 
 incredulous age, have somewhat diminished the wonder which 
 accompanied the conception of Gilli-Doir-Mag-revollich. 
 
 "There is bot two myles from Inverloghie, the church of 
 Kilmalee, in Loghyeld. In ancient tymes there was ane church 
 builded upon ane hill, which Avas above this church, which doeth 
 now stand in this toune ; and ancient men doeth say, that there 
 was a battell foughten on ane little hill not the tenth part of a 
 myle from this church, be certaine men which they did not know 
 what they were. And long tyme thereafter, certaine herds of 
 that toune, and of the next toune, called Unnatt, both wenches 
 and youthes, did on a tyme conveen with others on that hill; 
 and the daj'- being somewhat cold, did gather the bones of dead 
 men that were slayne long tyme before in that place, and did 
 make a fire to warm them. At last they did all remove from 
 the fire, except one maid or wench, which was verie cold, and 
 she did remaine there for a space. She being quiethe her alone, 
 without anie other companie, took up her cloaths above her 
 knees, or thereby, to warm her ; a wind did come and caste the 
 ashes upon her, and she was conceived of ane man-chyld. 
 Several tymes thereafter she was verie sick, and at last she was 
 knowne to be with chyld. And then her parents did ask at her 
 the matter heiroff, which the wench could not weel answer 
 which way to satisfie ihem. At last she resolved them with ane 
 answer. As fortune fell upon her concerning this marvellous 
 miracle, the chyld being borne, his name Avas called Gili-doir 
 
276 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 Magh-revoUkh, that is to say, the Black Child, Son to the 
 Bones. So called, his grandfather sent him to school!, and so 
 he was a good schollar, and godlie. He did build this church 
 which doeth now stand in Lochyeld called Kilmahe." — Mac- 
 
 FARLANE, lit SUpl'tt, ii. 188. 
 
 NOTE IV. 
 
 Yet nr^er again to braid her hair, 
 The virgin snood did Jllice ivear. 
 
 St. V. p. 87. 
 
 The snood or riband, with which a Scottish lass braided her 
 hair, had an emblematical signification, and applied to her 
 maiden character. It was exchanged for the curch, toy, or coif, 
 when she passed, by marriage, into the matron state. But if the 
 damsel was so unfortunate as to lose pretensions to the name of 
 maiden without gaining a right to that of matron, she was 
 neither permitted to use the snood nor advanced to the graver 
 dignity of the curch. In old Scottish songs there occur many sly 
 allusions to such misfortune, as in the old words to the popular 
 tune of " Ovver the muir amang the heather :" 
 
 " Down amang the broom, the broom, 
 Down amang the broom, my dearie. 
 The lassie lost her silken snood. 
 
 That gard her greet till she was wearie." 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 277 
 
 NOTE V. 
 
 The desert gave him visions wild. 
 Such as might suit the spectre'' s child. 
 
 St. vii. p. 89. 
 
 In adopting the legend concerning the birth of the Founder 
 of the Church of Kilmallie, the author has endeavoured to trace 
 the effects which such a beUef was Hkely to produce, in a barba- 
 rous age, on the person to whom it related. It seems hkely that 
 he must have become a fanatic or an impostor, or that mixture 
 of both which forms a more frequent character than either of 
 them, as existing separately. In truth, mad persons are fre- 
 quently more anxious to impress upon others a faith in their 
 visions, than they are themselves confirmed in their reality : as, 
 on the other hand, it is difficult for the most cool-headed impostor 
 long to personate an enthusiast, without in some degree believing 
 what he is so eager to have believed. It was a natural attribute 
 of such a character as the supposed hermit, that he should credit 
 the numerous superstitions with which the minds of ordinary 
 Highlanders are almost always imbued. A ^qw of these are 
 sHghtly alluded to in this stanza. The River Demon, or River- 
 horse, for it is that form which he commonly assumes, is the 
 Kelpy of the Lowlands, an evil and malicious spirit, delighting 
 to forebode and witness calamity. He frequents most Highland 
 lakes and rivers ; and one of his most memorable exploits was 
 performed on the banks of Loch Vennachar, in the very district 
 which forms the scene of our action ; it consisted in the destruc- 
 tion of a funeral procession, with all its attendants. The " noon- 
 
 2 A 
 
278 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 tide hag," called in Gaelic Glas-Hch, a tall, emaciated, gigantic 
 female figure, is supposed in particular to haunt the district of 
 Knoidart. A goblin dressed in antique armour, and having one 
 hand covered with blood, called, from that circumstance, Lliam- 
 Dearg, or Red-hand, is a tenant of the forests of Glenmore and 
 Rothemurcus. Other spirits of the desert, all frightful in shape, 
 and malignant in disposition, are believed to frequent different 
 mountains and glens of the Highlands, where any unusual ap- 
 pearance, produced by mist, or the strange lights that are some- 
 times thrown upon particular objects, never fails to present an 
 apparition to the imagination of the solitary and melancholy 
 mountaineer. 
 
 NOTE VI. 
 
 The fatal Bcn-Shie's boding scream. 
 
 St. vii. p. 90. 
 
 Most great families in the Highlands were supposed to have a 
 tutelar, or rather a domestic spirit, attached to them, who took 
 an interest in their prosperity, and intimated, by its wailings, any 
 approaching disaster. That of Grant of Grant was called May 
 3Ioullach, and appeared in the form of a girl, who had her arm 
 covered with hair. Grant of Rothemurcus had an attendant 
 called Bodach-an-dun, or the Ghost of the Hill : and many 
 other examples might be mentioned. The Ben-Shie imphes the 
 female Fairy, whose lamentations were often supposed to precede 
 the death of a chieftain of particular families. When she is 
 visible, it is in the form of an old woman, with a blue mantle, 
 8md streaming hair. A superstition of the same kind is, I 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 279 
 
 believe, universally received by the inferior ranks of the native 
 Irish. 
 
 The death of the head of a Highland family is also sometimes 
 supposed to be announced by a chain of hghts of different colours, 
 called Dr'eug, or death of the Druid. The direction which it 
 takes marks the place of the funeral. 
 
 NOTE VII. 
 
 Along Benharroiv-s shingly side, 
 TTliere mortal horseman ne'er might ride. 
 
 St. vii, p. 90. 
 
 A presage of the kind alluded to in the text is still believed to 
 announce death to the ancient Highland family of M-Lean of 
 Lochbuy. The spirit of an ancestor slain in battle is heard to 
 gallop along a stony bank, and then to ride thrice around the 
 family residence, ringing his fairy bridle, and thus intimating 
 the approaching calamity. How easily the eye as well as the 
 ear may be deceived upon such occasions, is evident from the 
 stories of armies in the air, and other spectral phenomena with 
 which history abounds. Such an apparition is said to have been 
 witnessed upon the side of Southerfell mountain, between Penrith 
 and Keswick, upon the 23d June, 1744, by two persons, William 
 Lancaster of Blakehills, and Daniel Stricket his servant, whose 
 attestation to the fact, with a full account of the apparition, dated 
 the 2!st July, 1745, is printed in Clarke's Survey of the Lakes. 
 The apparition consisted of several troops of horse moving in 
 regular order, with a steady rapid motion, making a curved 
 sweep around the fell, and seeming to the spectators to disappear 
 
280 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 over the ridge of the mountain. Many persons witnessed this 
 phenomenon, and observed the last or last but one, of the sup- 
 posed troop, occasionally leave his rank, and pass, at a gallop, to 
 the front, when he resumed the same steady pace. This curious 
 appearance, making the necessary allowance for imagination, 
 may be perhaps sufficiently accounted for -by optical deception. — 
 Survey of the Lakes, p. 25. 
 
 Superaatural intimations of approaching fate are not, I believe, 
 confined to Highland families. Howell mentions having seen at 
 a lapidary's, in 1632, a monumental stone, prepared for four 
 persons of the name of Oxenham, before the death of each of 
 whom, the inscription stated a white bird to have appeared and 
 fluttered around the bed, while the patient was in the last agony. 
 Familiar Letters, edit. 1726, 247. Glanville mentions one 
 family, the members of which received this solemn sign by 
 music, the sound of which floated from the family residence, and 
 seemed to die in a neighbouring wood ; another, that of Captain 
 Wood, of Bampton, to whom the signal was given by knocking. 
 But the most remarkable instance of the kind occurs in the MS. 
 Memoirs of Lady Fanshaw, so exemplary for her conjugal affec- 
 tion. Her husband, Sir Richard, and she, chanced during their 
 abode in Ireland to visit a friend, the head of a sept, who resided 
 in his ancient baronial castle, surrounded with a moat. At mid- 
 night, she was awakened by a ghastly and supernatural scream, 
 and looking out of bed, beheld, by the moonlight, a female face, 
 and part of the form, hovering at the window. The distance 
 from the ground, as well as the circumstance of the moat, ex- 
 cluded the possibility that what she beheld was of this world. 
 The face was that of a young and rather handsome woman, but 
 pale, and the hair, which was reddish, was loose and dishevelled. 
 The dress, w-hich Lady Fanshaw's terror did not prevent her 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 281 
 
 remarking accurately, was that of the ancient Irish. This appa- 
 rition continued to exhibit itself for some time, and then vanished 
 with two shrieks similar to that which had first excited Lady 
 Fanshaw's attention. In the morning, with infinite terror, she 
 communicated to her host what she had witnessed, and found 
 him prepared not only to credit but to account for the apparition. 
 "A near relation of my family," said he, "expired last night in 
 this castle. We disguised our certain expectation of the event 
 from you, lest it should throw a cloud over the cheerful reception 
 which was your due. Now, before such an event happens in 
 this family and castle, the female spectre whom you have seen 
 always is visible. She is believed to be the spirit of a woman of 
 inferior rank, whom one of my ancestors degraded himself by 
 marrying, and whom afterwards, to expiate the dishonour done 
 his family, he caused to be drowned in the castle moat." 
 
 NOTE YIII. 
 
 Ifliose parents in Inch-CaiUiach ivave 
 Their shadows o'er Clan- Alpine' s grave. 
 
 St. viii. p. 91. 
 
 Inch-Cailliach, the Isle of Nuns, or of Old Women, is a most 
 beautiful island at the lower extremity of Loch-Lomond. The 
 church belonging to the former nunnery was long used as the 
 place of worship for the parish of Buchanan, but scarcely any 
 vestiges of it now remain. The burial-ground continues to be 
 used, and contains the family places of sepulture of several 
 neighbouring clans. The monuments of the lairds of Macgregor, 
 and of other families, claiming a descent from the old Scottish 
 King Alpine, are most remarkable. The Highlanders are as 
 
283 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 jealous of their rights of sepulture, as may be expected from a 
 people whose whole laws and government, if clanship can be 
 called so, turned upon the single principle of family descent. 
 "May his ashes be scattered on the water," was one of the 
 deepest and most solemn imprecations which they used against 
 an enemy. 
 
 NOTE IX. 
 
 The dun deer^s hide 
 
 On Jleeterfoot was never tied. 
 
 St, xiii, p. 95. 
 
 The present brogue of the Highlanders is made of half-dried 
 leather, with holes to admit and let out the water ; for walking 
 the moors dry-shod is a matter altogether out of the question. 
 The ancient buskin was still ruder, being made of undressed 
 deer's hide, with the hair outwards, a circumstance which pro- 
 cured the Highlanders the well-known epithet of Red-shanks. 
 The process is very accurately described by one Elder (himself 
 a Highlander), in the project for a union between Enw-land and 
 Scotland, addressed to Henry VIII. " We go a hunting, and 
 after that we have slain red deer, we flay off the skin b)' and by, 
 and setting of our bare foot on the inside thereof, for want of 
 cunning shoemakers, by your grace's pardon, we play the 
 cobblers, compassing and measuring so much thereof as shall 
 reach up to our ankles, pricking the upper part thereof with 
 holes, that the water may repass where it enters, and stretching it 
 up with a strong thong of the same above our said ankles. So, 
 and please your noble grace, we make our shoes. Therefore, we 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 283 
 
 using such manner of slioes, the rough hairy side outwards, in 
 your grace's dominions of England, we be called Rough-footed 
 Scots." — Pinkerton's History, vol. ii. p. 397. 
 
 NOTE X. 
 
 The dismal Coronach. 
 
 St. XV. p. 98. 
 
 The Coronach of the Highlanders, like the Ululatus of the 
 Romans, and the Ululoo of the Irish, was a wild expression of 
 lamentation poured forth by the mourners over the body of a 
 departed friend. When the words of it were articulate, they 
 expressed the praises of the deceased, and the loss the clan would 
 sustain by his death. The following is a lamentation of this 
 kind, literally translated from the Gaelic, to some of the ideas of 
 which the text stands indebted. The tune is so popular, that it 
 has since become the war-march, or Gathering, of the clan 
 
 Coronach on Sir Lauchlan, Chief of Maclean. 
 
 Which of ail the Seanachies 
 
 Can trace thy line from the root, up to Paradise, 
 
 But Macvuirih, the son of Fergus ? 
 
 No sooner had thine ancient stately tree 
 
 Taken firm root in Albin, 
 
 Than one of thy forefathers fell at Harlaw. — 
 
 'Tv/as then we lost a chief of deathless name. 
 
284 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 'Tis no base weed — no planted tree, 
 
 Nor a seedling of last autumn ; 
 
 Nor a sapling planted at Beltain ;^ 
 
 Wide, wide around were spread its lofty branches — 
 
 But the topmost bough is lowly laid ! 
 
 Thou hast forsaken us before Sawaine,^ 
 
 Thy dwelling is the winter house ; 
 Loud, sad, and mighty is thy death-song ! 
 Oh ! courteous champion of Montrose ! 
 Oh ! stately warrior of the Celtic Isles ! 
 Thou shalt buckle thy harness on no more ! 
 
 The coronach has for some years past been superseded at 
 funerals by the use of the bagpipe, and that also is, like many 
 other Highland peculiarities, falling into disuse, unless in remote 
 districts. 
 
 NOTE XI. 
 
 Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, 
 
 It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. 
 
 St. xix. p. 102. 
 
 A glance at the provincial map of Perthshire, or at any large 
 map of Scotland, will trace the progress of the signal through 
 the small district of lakes and mountains, which, in exercise of 
 my poetical privilege, I have subjected to the authority of my 
 imaginary chieftain ; and which, at the period of my romance, 
 
 » Bel's fire, or Whitsunday. ^ Halloween. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 285 
 
 was really occupied by a clan who claimed a descent from 
 Alpine, a clan the most unfortunate, and most persecuted, but 
 neither the least distinguished, least powerful, or least brave of 
 the tribes of Gael. 
 
 Slioch non rioghridh duchaisach 
 Bha-shios an Dun Staiobhinish 
 Aig an roubh crun na Halba othus 
 'Stag a cheil duchas fast ris. 
 
 The first stage of the Fiery Cross is to Duncraggan, a place 
 near the Brigg of Turk, where a short stream divides Loch- 
 Achray from Loch-Vennachar. From thence it passes towards 
 Callender, and then, turning to the left up the pass of Leniiie, is 
 consigned to Norman at the chapel of Saint Bride, which stood 
 on a small and romantic knoll in the middle of the valley, called 
 Strath-Ire. Tombea and Arnandave, or Ardmandave, are names 
 of places in the vicinity. The alarm is then supposed to pass 
 along the lake of Lubnaig, and through the various glens in the 
 district of Balquidder, including the neighbouring tracts of Glen- 
 finlas and Strathgarlney. 
 
 NOTE XII. 
 
 Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 
 Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze. 
 
 St. xxiv. p. 106. 
 
 It may be necessary to inform the southern reader, that the 
 heath on the Scottish moorlands is often set fire to, that the 
 sheep may have the advantage of the young herbage produced in 
 
286 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 room of the tough old heather plants. This custom, (execrated 
 by sportsmen) produces occasionally the most beautiful nocturnal 
 appearances, similar almost to the discharge of a volcano. The 
 simile is not new to poetry. The charge of a warrior, in the fine 
 ballad of Hardyknule, is said to be " like a fire to heather set." 
 
 NOTE XIII. 
 
 By his ch'ieftahi's hand. 
 
 St. xxiv. p. 108. 
 
 The deep and implicit respect paid by the Highland clansmen 
 to their chief, rendered this both a common and a solemn oath. 
 In other respects, they were like most savage nations, capricious 
 in thfir ideas concerning the obligatory power of oaths. One 
 solemn mode of swearing was by kissing the dirl::, imprecating 
 upon themselves death by that, or a similar weapon, if they 
 broke their vow. But for oaths in the usual form, they are said 
 to have had little respect. As for the reverence due to the chief, 
 it may be guessed from the following odd example of a Highland 
 point of honour : 
 
 '•The clan whereto the above-mentioned tribe belongs is the 
 only one I have heard of, which is without a chief: that is, being 
 divided into families, under several chieftains, without any parti- 
 cular patriarch of the whole name. And this is a great reproach, 
 as may appear from an affair that fell out at my table, in the 
 Highlands, between one of that name and a Cameron. The 
 provocation given by the latter was, ' Name your chief.' The 
 return of it at once was, ' You are a fool.' They went out next 
 morning, but having early notice of it, I sent a small party of 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 287 
 
 soldiers after them, which, in all probabihty, prevented some 
 barbarous mischief that might have ensued ; for the chiefless 
 Highlander, who is himself a petty chieftain, was going to th-j 
 place appointed with a smallsword and pistol, whereas the 
 Cameron (an old man) took with him only his broadsword, 
 according to agreement. 
 
 " When all was over, and I had, at least seemingly, recon- 
 ciled them, I was told the words, of which I seemed to think but 
 slightly, were, to one of the clan, the greatest of all provoca- 
 tions." — Letters from the North of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 221. 
 
 NOTE XIV. 
 
 Coir-nan- Uriskin . 
 
 St. XXV. p. 108. 
 
 This is a very steep and most romantic hollow in the mountain 
 of Ben-venue, overhanging the southeastern extremity of Loch- 
 Katrine. It is surrounded with stupendous rocks, and over- 
 shadowed with birch trees, mingled with oaks, the spontaneous 
 production of the mountain, even where its cliffs appear denuded 
 of soil. A dale in so wild a situation, and amid a people whose 
 genius bordered on the romantic, did not remain without appro- 
 priate deities. The name literally implies the Corri, or Den, of 
 the Wild or Shaggy Men. Perhaps this, as conjectured by Mr. 
 Alexander Campbell,^ may have originally only implied its 
 being the haunt of a ferocious banditti. But tradition has 
 ascribed to the Urisk, who gives name to the cavern, a figure 
 
 'Journey from Edinburgh, 1802, p. 109. 
 
588 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 between a goat and a man ; in short, however much the classical 
 reader may be startled, precisely that of the Grecian Satyr. 
 The Urisk seems not to have inherited, with the form, the petu- 
 lance of the sylvan deity of the classics : his occupations, on the 
 contrary, resembled those of Milton's Lubbar Fiend, or of the 
 Scottish Brownie, though he difTered from both in name and 
 appearance. " The Urisks,^^ says Dr. Graham, " were a sort of 
 lubberly supernatural, who, like the Brownies, could be gained 
 over by kind attention, to perform the drudgery of the farm, and 
 it was believed that many of the families in the Highlands had 
 one of the order attached to it. They were supposed to be dis- 
 persed over the Highlands, each in his own wild recess, but the 
 solemn stated meetings of the order were regularly held in this 
 cave of Ben-venue. This current superstition, no doubt, alludes 
 to some circumstance in the ancient history of this country." — 
 Scenery on the Southern Confines of Perthshire. 1806. p. 19. 
 
 It must be owned that the Coir, or Den, does not, in its pre- 
 sent state, meet our ideas of a subterranean grotto, or cave, 
 being only a small and narrow cavity, among huge fragments of 
 rocks, rudely piled together. But such a scene is liable to con- 
 vulsions of nature, which a Lowlander cannot estimate, and 
 which, may have choked up what was originally a cavern. At 
 least the name and tradition warrant the author of a fictitious tale, 
 to assert its having been such at the remote period in which this 
 bcene is laid. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 289 
 
 NOTE XV. 
 
 The wild pass of Beal-nam-Bo. 
 
 St. xxvii. p. '110. 
 
 Bealach-nam-Bo, or the pass of cattle, is a most magnificent 
 glade, overhung with aged birch trees, a little higher up the 
 mountain than the Coir-nan-Uriskin, treated of in the last note. 
 The whole composes the most subhme piece of scenery that 
 imagination can conceive. 
 
 NOTE XVI. 
 
 A single page, to bear his sword., 
 Alone attended on his lord. 
 
 St. xxvii. p. 111. 
 
 A Highland chief being as absolute in his patriarchal autho- 
 rity as any prince, had a corresponding number of officers 
 attached to his person. He had his body-guards, called Luicht- 
 tach, picked from his clan for strength, activity, and entire 
 devotion to his person. These, according to their deserts, were 
 sure to share abundantly in the rude profusion of his hospitality. 
 It is recorded, for example, by tradition, that Allan Mac Lean, 
 chief of that clan, happened upon a time to hear one of these 
 favourite retainers observe to his comrade, that their chief grew 
 old. " Whence do you infer that ?" replied the other. " When 
 was it," rejoined the first, " that a soldier of Allan's was obliged, 
 as I am now, not only to eat the flesh from this bone, but evea 
 
290 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 to tear off the inner skin, or filament ?" The hint was sufficient, 
 and Mac Lean next morning, to relieve his followers from such 
 dire necessity, undertook an inroad on the mainland, the ravage 
 of which altogether effaced the memory of his former expeditions 
 for the like purpose. 
 
 Our officer of Engineers, so often quoted, has given us a dis- 
 tinct list of the domestic officers, who, independent of Liiicht- 
 fach, or gardes de corps, belonged to the cstabhshment of a 
 Highland chief. These are, 1. The Henchman. (See these 
 notes, page 265.) 2. The Bard. (See p. 244.) 3. Bladier, or 
 spokesman. 4. Gillie-more, or sword-bearer, alluded to in the 
 text. 5. Gillie-CasJJue, who carried the chief, if on foot, over 
 the fords. 6, Gillie-comstraine, who leads the chief's horse. 
 7. Gillie -Thrusha-narinsh, the baggage-man. 8. The Piper. 
 9. The piper's gillie, or attendant who carries the bagpipe.* 
 Although this appeared, naturally enough, very ridiculous to an 
 English officer, who considered the master of such a retinue as 
 no more than an English gentleman of 500/. a year, yet, in the 
 circumstance of the chief, whose strength and importance con- 
 sisted in the number and attachment of his followers, it was of 
 the last consequence, in point of policy, to have in his gift sub- 
 ordinate offices, which called immediately round his person those 
 who were most devoted to him, and, being of value in their esti- 
 mation, were also the means of rewarding them. 
 
 ' Letters from Scotland, vol. ii. p. 158. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOUKTH. 
 
 NOTE I. 
 
 The Taghairm calVd, by which, afar. 
 Our sires foresaw the events of war. 
 
 St. iv. p. 118. 
 
 The Highlanders, like all rude people, had various supersti- 
 tious modes of inquiring into futurity. One of the most noted 
 was the Taghairm, mentioned in the text. A person was 
 wrapped up in the skin of a newly-slain bullock, and deposited 
 beside a waterfall, or at the bottom of a precipice, or in some 
 other strange, wild, and unusual situation, where the scemry 
 around him suggested nothing but objects of horror. In this 
 situation he revolved in his mind the question proposed, and 
 whatever was impressed upon him by his exalted imagination, 
 passed for the inspiration of the disimbodied spirits, who haunt 
 these desolate recesses. In some of the Hebrides, they attributed 
 the same oracular power to a large black stone by the sea-shore, 
 which they approached with certain solemnities, and considered 
 the first fancy which came into their own minds after they did 
 so, to be the undoubted dictate of the tutelar deity of the stone, 
 and as such to be, if possible, punctually complied with. Martin 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 has recorded the following curious modes of Highland augury, 
 in which the Taghairm, and its effects upon the person who was 
 subjected to it, may serve to illustrate the text. 
 
 " It was an ordinary thing among the over-curious to consult 
 an invisible oracle, concerning the fate of families and battles, 
 &c. This was performed three different Avays : the first was by 
 a company of men, one of whom, being detached by lot, was 
 afterwards carried to a river, which was the boundary between 
 two villages ; four of the company laid hold on him, and, having 
 shut his eyes, they took him by the legs and arms, and then, 
 tossing him to and again, struck his hips with force against the 
 bank. One of them cried out. What is it you have got here ? 
 another answers, A log of birch-wood. The other cries again, 
 Let his invisible friends appear from all quarters, and let them 
 relieve him by giving an answer to our present demands ; and in 
 a few minutes after, a number of little creatures came from the 
 sea, who answered the question, and disappeared suddenly. The 
 man was then set at liberty, and they all returned home, to take 
 their measures according to the prediction of their false prophets ; 
 but the poor deluded fools were abused, for the answer was still 
 ambiguous. This was always practised in the night, and may 
 literally be called the works of darkness. 
 
 "I had an account from the most intelligent and judicious 
 men in the Isle of Skie, that about sixty-two years ago, the 
 oracle was thus consulted only once, and that was in the parish 
 of Kilmartin, on the east side, by a wicked and mischievous 
 race of people, who are now extinguished both root and branch. 
 
 " The second way of consulting the oracle was by a party of 
 men, who first retired to solitary places, remote from any house, 
 and there they singled out one of their number, and wrapt him 
 in a big cow's hide, which they folded about him ; his whole 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 293 
 
 liody was covered with it, except his head, and so left in this 
 posture all night, until his invisible friends relieved him, by- 
 giving a proper answer to the question in hand; which he 
 received, as he fancied, from several persons that he found about 
 him all that time. His consorts returned to him at the break of 
 day, and then he communicated his news to them ; which often 
 proved fatal to those concerned in such unwarrantable inquiries. 
 
 " There was a third way of consulting, which was a confirma- 
 tion of the second above-mentioned. The same company who 
 put the man into the hide, took a live cat, and put him on a spit ; 
 one of the number was employed to turn the spit, and one of his 
 consorts inquired of him, What are you doing? he answered, I 
 roast this cat until his friends answer the question ; which must 
 be the same that was proposed by the man shut up in the hide. 
 And afterwards, a very big cat* comes attended by a number of 
 lesser cats, desiring to relieve the cat turned upon the spit, and 
 then answers the question. If this answer proved the same that 
 was given to the man in the hide, then it was taken as a con- 
 firmation of the other, which, in this case, was believed infallible. 
 
 " Mr. Alexander Cooper, present minister of North Vist, told 
 me that one John Erach, in the Isle of Lewis, assured him, it 
 was his fate to have been led by his curiosity with some who 
 consulted this oracle, and that he was a night within the hide, as 
 above-mentioned ; during which time he felt and heard such 
 terrible things, that he could not express them ; the impression 
 it made on him was such as could never go off, and he said for 
 a thousand worlds he would never again be concerned in the like 
 
 ' The reader may have met with the story of the " King of the Cats," 
 in Lord Littleton's Letters. It is well known in the Highlands as a 
 nursery tale. 
 
 8b3 
 
294 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 performance, for this had di.sorJercil liim to a high degree. He 
 confessed it ingenuously, and with an air of great remorse, and 
 seemed to be very penitent under a just sense of so great a 
 crime ; he declared this about five years since, and is still living 
 in the Lewis, for any thing I know." — Description of the 
 Western Isles, p. 110. See also Pennant's Scottish Tour, vol. 
 ii. p. 361. 
 
 NOTE II. 
 
 The choicest of the prey we had, 
 
 When swept our merry-men Gallangad. 
 
 St, iv. p. 119. 
 
 I know not if it be worth observing, that this passage is taken 
 almost literally from the mouth of an old Highland Kern, or 
 Ketteran, as they were called. He used to narrate the merry 
 doings of the good old time when he was a follower of Rob Roy 
 Macgregor. This leader, on one occasion, thought proper to 
 make a descent upon the lower part of the Loch-Lomond district, 
 and summoned all the heritors and farmers to meet at the Kirk 
 of Drymen, to pay him black-mail, i. e., tribute of forbearance 
 and protection. As this invitation was supported by a band of 
 thirty or forty stout fellows, only one gentleman, an ancestor, if 
 I mistake not, of the present Mr. Grahame of Gartmore, ventured 
 to decline compHance. Rob Roy instantly swept his land of all 
 he could drive away, and among the spoil was a bull of the old 
 Scottish wuld breed, whose ferocity occasioned great plague to 
 the Ketterans. "But ere we reached the Row of Dennan," 
 said the old man, "a child might have scratched his ears." 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 295 
 
 The circumstance is a minute one, but it paints the times when 
 the poor beeve was compelled 
 
 To hoof it o'er as many weary miles, 
 
 With goading pilcemen hollowing at his heels. 
 
 As e'er the bravest antler of the woods, — Ethwald. 
 
 NOTE III. 
 
 That huge cliff, whose ample verge 
 
 Tradition calls the Heroes Targe. 
 
 St. V. p. 119. 
 
 There is a rock so named in the forest of Glenfinlas, by which 
 a tumuUuary cataract takes its course. This wild place is said 
 in former times to have afforded refuge to an outlaw, who was 
 supplied with provisions by a woman, who lowered them down 
 om the brink of the precipice above. Water he procured for 
 himself, by letting down a flagon lied to a string, into the black 
 pool beneath tlie fall. 
 
 NOTE IV. 
 
 Or raven on the blasted oak, 
 
 That, vxitching ivhile the deer is broke. 
 
 His morsel claims with sidlen croak. 
 
 St. V. p. 120. 
 
 Every thing belonging to the chase was matter of solemnity 
 among our ancestors, but nothinsr was more so than the mode of 
 
296 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 cutting up, or, as it was technically called, breaking the slaugh- 
 tered stag. The forester had his allotted portion ; the hounds had 
 a certain allowance ; and, to make the division as general as 
 possible, the very birds had their share also. " There is a little 
 gristle," says Turberville, "which is upon the spoone of the 
 brisket, which we call the raven's bone ; and I have seen in 
 some places a raven so wont and accustomed to it, that she would 
 never fail to croak and cry for it all the time you were in break- 
 ing up of the deer, and would not depart till she had it." In the 
 very ancient metrical romance of Sir Tristrem, that peerless 
 Knight, who is said to have been the very deviser of all rules of 
 chase, did not omit this ceremony : 
 
 The raven he yaf his yiftes 
 Sat on the fourched tre. 
 
 Sir Tristrem, 2d edition, p. 34. 
 
 The raven might also challenge his rights by the Book of St. 
 Albans : for thus says Dame Juliana Berners : 
 
 Slilteth anon 
 
 The bcly to the side, from the corbyn bone ; 
 That is corbyn's fee, at the death he will be. 
 
 Jonson, in "The Sad Shepherd," gives a more poetical account 
 of the same ceremony. 
 
 Marian. -He that undoes him, 
 
 Doth cleave the brisket bone, upon the spoon 
 Of which a little gristle grows — you call it — 
 
 Robin Hood. The raven's bone. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 297 
 
 Marian. Now o'er head sat a raven 
 
 On a sere bough, a grown, great bird, and hoarse, 
 Who, all the while the deer was breaking up, 
 So croaked and cried for't, as all the huntsmen. 
 Especially old Scathlocke, thought it ominous. 
 
 NOTE V. 
 
 JVhich spills the foremost foeman^ s life. 
 That party conquers in the strife. 
 
 St. vi. p. 121. 
 
 Though this be in the text described as a response of the 
 Taghairm, or Oracle of the Hide, it was of itself an augury fre- 
 quently attended to. The fate of the battle was often anticipated 
 in the imagination of the combatants, by observing which party 
 first shed blood. It is said that the Highlanders under Montrose 
 were so deeply imbued with this notion, that, on the morning of 
 the battle of Tippermoor, they murdered a defenceless herdsman, 
 whom they found in the fields, merely to secure an advantage of 
 so much consequence to their party. 
 
 NOTE VI. 
 
 Alice Brand. 
 
 St. xii. p. 127. 
 
 This little fairy tale is founded upon a very curious Danish 
 ballad, which occurs in K^mpe Viser, a collection of heroic 
 
298 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 songs, first published in 1591, and reprinted in 1695, inscribed 
 by Anders Sofrensen, the collector and editor, to Sophia, Queen 
 of Denmark. 
 
 NOTE VII. 
 
 Up spoke the moody Elfin King, 
 Who wonn\l within the hill. 
 
 St. xiii. p. 129. 
 
 In a long dissertation upon the Fairy Superstitions, published 
 in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, the most valuable part 
 of which was supplied by my learned and indefatigible friend, 
 Dr. John Leyden, most of the circumstances are collected which 
 can throw light upon the popular belief which even yet prevails 
 respecting them in Scotland. Dr. Grahame, author of an enter- 
 taining work upon the Scenery of the Perthshire Highlands, 
 already frequently quoted, has recorded, with great accuracy, 
 the pecuhar tenets held by the Highlanders on this topic, in the 
 vicinity of Loch-Katrine. The learned author is inclined to 
 deduce the whole mythology from the Druidical s)'stem — an 
 opinion to which there are many objections. 
 
 "The Daione ShV, or Men of Peace, of the Highlanders, 
 though not absolutely malevolent, are believed to be a peevish, 
 repining race of beings, who, possessing themselves but a scanty 
 portion of happiness, are supposed to envy mankind their more 
 complete and substantial enjoyment. They are supposed to 
 enjoy, in their subterranean recesses, a sort of shadowy happi- 
 ness — a tinsel grandeur : which, however, they would willingly 
 exchange for the more solid joys of mortality. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 299 
 
 "They are believed to inhlibit CL-rlain round grassy emi- 
 nences, where ihey celebrate their nocturnal festivities by the 
 light of the moon. About a mile beyond the source of the Forth, 
 above Lochcon, there is a place called CoirshV an, or the Cove 
 of the Men of Peace, which is still supposed to be a favourite 
 place of their residence. In the neighbourhood are to be seen 
 many round conical eminences ; particularly one, near the head 
 of the lake, by the skirts of which many are still afraid to pass 
 after sunset. It is believed, that if, on Hallow-eve, any person, 
 alone, goes round one of these hills nine times, towards the left 
 hand [sinistrorsum) a door shall open, by which he will be 
 admitted into their subterraneous abodes. Many, it is said, of 
 mortal race have been entertained in their secret recesses. 
 There they have been received into the most splendid apart- 
 ments, and regaled with the most sumptuous banquets and de- 
 licious wines. Their females surpass the daughters of men in 
 beauty. The seemingly happy inhabitants pass their time in 
 festivity, and in dancing to notes of the softest music. But un- 
 happy is the mortal who joins in their joys, or ventures to par- 
 take of their dainties. By this indulgence, he forfeits for ever 
 the society of men, and is bound down irrevocably to the condi- 
 tion of a Shi'ich, or Man of Peace. 
 
 "A woman, as is reported in the Highland tradition, was con- 
 veyed, in days of yore, into the secret recesses of the Men of 
 Peace. There she was recognised by one who had formerly been 
 an ordinary mortal, but who had, by some fatality, become asso- 
 ciated with the Shi'ichs. This acquaintance, still retaining some 
 portion of human benevolence, warned her of her danger, and 
 counselled her, as she valued her liberty, to abstain from eating 
 and drinking with them for a certain space of time. She com- 
 plied with the counsel of her friend ; and when the period as- 
 
300 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 signed was elapsed, she found hefself again upon earth, restored 
 to the society of mortals. It is added, that when she examined 
 the viands which had been presented to her, and which had 
 appeared so tempting to the eye, they were found, now that the 
 enchantment was removed, to consist only of the refuse of the' 
 earth."— p. 107, 111. 
 
 NOTE VIII. 
 
 Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, 
 
 Our moonlight circle's screen ? 
 Or who comes here to chase the deer, 
 Beloved of our Eljin Queen? 
 
 St. xiii. p. 129. 
 
 It has been already observed, that fairies, if not positively 
 malevolent, are capricious, and easily offended. They are, like 
 other proprietors of forests, peculiarly jealous of their rights of 
 vert and venison, as appears from the cause of offence taken, in 
 the original Danish ballad. This jealousy was also an attribute 
 of the northern JDuergar, or dwarfs ; to many of whose dis- 
 tinctions the fairies seem to have succeeded, if, indeed, they are 
 not the same class of beings. In the huge metrical record of 
 German chivalry, entitled the Helden-Buch, Sir Hildebrand, and 
 the other heroes of whom it treats, are engaged in one of their 
 most desperate adventures, from a rash violation of the rose- 
 garden of an Elfin, or Dwarf King. 
 
 There are yet traces of a belief in this worst and most mali- 
 cious order of Fairies among the Border wilds. Dr. Leyden has 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 301 
 
 introduced such a dwarf into his ballad entitled the Cout of 
 Keeldar, and has not forgot his characteristic detestation of the 
 chase, 
 
 "The third blast that young Keeldar blew, 
 Still stood the limber fern, 
 And a wee man, of swarthy hue 
 Upstarted by a cairn. 
 
 " His russet weeds were brown as heath. 
 That clothes the upland fell ; 
 And the hair of his head was frizzle red 
 As the purple heather-bell. 
 
 "An urchin, clad in prickles red. 
 Clung cow'ring to his arm ; 
 The hounds they howl'd, and backward fled, 
 As struck by fairy charm. 
 
 " ' Why rises high the stag-hound's cry, 
 Where stag-hound ne'er should be ? 
 Why wakes that horn the silent morn. 
 Without the leave of me ?' 
 
 " ' Brown dwarf that o'er the muirland strays, 
 Thy name to Keeldar tell !' — 
 The Brown Man of the Muirs, who stays 
 Beneath the heather-bell. 
 
 " ' 'Tis sweet beneath the heather-bell, 
 To live in autumn brown ; 
 
 2C 
 
302 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 And sweet to hear the kv'rock's swell, 
 Far, far from tower and town. 
 
 "'But wo betide the shrilling horn, 
 The chase's surly cheer ! 
 And ever that hunter is forlorn. 
 Whom first at morn I hear.' " 
 
 The poetical picture here given of the Duergar corresponds 
 exactly with the following Northumbrian legend, with which I 
 was lately favoured by my learned and kind friend, Mr. Surtees, 
 of Mainsforth, who has bestowed indefatigable labour upon the 
 antiquities of the EngHsh Border counties. The subject is in 
 itself so curious that the length of the note will, I hope, be 
 pardoned. 
 
 "I have only one record to offer of the appearance of our 
 Northumbrian Duergar. My narratrix is Elizabeth Cockburn, 
 an old wife of Offerton, in this county, whose credit, in a case 
 of this kind, will not, I hope, be much impeached, when I add, 
 that she is, by her dull neighbours, supposed to be occasionally 
 insane, but, by herself, to be at those times endowed vi'ith a 
 faculty of seeing visions, and spectral appearances, which shun 
 the common ken. 
 
 " In the year before the great rebellion, two young men from 
 Newcastle were sporting on the high moors above Elsdon, and 
 after pursuing their game several hours, sat down to dine, in a 
 green glen, near one of the mountain streams. After their 
 repast, the younger lad ran to the brook for water, and after 
 stooping to drink, was surprised, on hfting his head again, by 
 the appearance of a brown dwarf, who stood on a crag covered 
 with brackens, across the burn. This extraordinary personage 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 303 
 
 did not appear to be above half the stature of a common man, 
 but was uncommonly stout and broad built, having the appear- 
 ance of vast strength. His dress was entirely brown, the colour 
 of the brackens, and his head covered with frizzled red hair. 
 His countenance was expressive of the most savage ferocity, and 
 his eyes glared like a bull. It seems, he addressed the young 
 man first, threatening him with his vengeance, for having tres- 
 passed on his demesnes, and asking him, if he knew in whose 
 presence he stood ? The youth replied, that he now supposed 
 him to be the lord of the moors ; that he ofTended through igno- 
 rance ; and offered to bring him the game he had killed. The 
 dwarf was a little mollified by this submission, but remarked that 
 nothing could be more ofTensivc to him than such an offer, as he 
 considered the wild animals as his subjects, and never failed to 
 avenge their destruction. He condescended further to inform 
 hitn, that he was, like himself, mortal, though of years far exceed- 
 ing the lot of common humanity ; and (what I should not have 
 had an idea of) that he hoped for salvation. He never, he added, 
 fed on any thing that had life, but lived, in the summer, on 
 whortleberries, and in winter, on nuts and apples, of which he 
 had great store in the woods. Finally, he invited his new 
 acquaintance to accompany him home, and partake his hospi- 
 tality ; an offer which the youth was on the point of accepting, 
 and was just going to spring across the brook, (which if he had 
 done, says Elizabeth, the dwarf would certainly have torn him in 
 pieces,) when his foot was arrested by the voice of his companion, 
 who thought he had tarried long ; and, on looking round again, 
 'the wee brown man was fled.' The story adds, that he was 
 imprudent enough to slight the admonition, and to sport over the 
 moors, on his way homewards ; but soon after his return, he fell 
 into a hngering disorder, and died within the year." 
 
304 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 NOTE IX. 
 
 Or tcho may dare on wold to ivear 
 The fairies^ fatal green. 
 
 St. xiii. p. 129. 
 
 As the Daoine Shi, or Men of Peace, wore green habits, they 
 were supposed to take offence when any mortals ventured to 
 assume their favourite colour. Indeed, from some reason, which 
 has been, perhaps, originally a general superstition, green is held 
 in Scotland to be unlucky to particular tribes and counties. The 
 Caithness men, who hold this belief, allege, as a reason, that 
 their bands wore that colour when they were cut off at the battle 
 of Flodden ; an4 for the same reason they avoid crossing the Ord 
 on a Monday, being the day of the week on which their ill- 
 omened array set forth. Green is also disliked by those of the 
 name of Ogilvy ; but more e.specially is it held fatal to the w^hole 
 clan of Grahame. It is remembered of an aged gentleman of 
 that name, that when his horse fell in a fox-chase, he accounted 
 for it at once, by observing, that the whip-cord attached to his 
 lash was of this unlucky colour. 
 
 NOTE X. 
 
 For thou wert christen^l man. 
 
 St. xiii. p. 129. 
 
 The Elves were supposed greatly to envy the privileges 
 acquired by Christian initiation, and they gave to those mortals 
 who fell into their power a certain precedence, founded upon this 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 305 
 
 advantageous distinction. Tamlane, in the old ballad, describes 
 his own rank in the fairy procession : 
 
 "For I ride on a milk-white steed, 
 
 And aye nearest the town ; 
 Because I was a christen'd knight, 
 
 They gie me that renown." 
 
 I presume, that, in the Danish ballad, the obstinacy of the 
 "Weiest Elf," who would not flee for cross or sign, is to be 
 derived from the circumstance of his having been " christened 
 man." 
 
 How eager the elves were to obtain for their offspring the pre- 
 rogatives of Christianity, will be proved by the following story : 
 " In the district called Haga, in Iceland, dweh a nobleman called 
 Sigward Forster, who had an intrigue M-ith one of the subter- 
 ranean females. The elf became pregnant, and exacted from 
 her lover a firm promise that he would procure the baptism of 
 the infant. At the appointed time, the mother came to the 
 churchyard, on the wall of which she placed a golden cup, and 
 a stole for the priest, agreeable to the custom of making an 
 offering at baptism. She then stood a little apart. When the 
 priest left the church, he inquired the meaning of what he saw, 
 and demanded of Sigward if he avowed himself the father of the 
 child. But Sigward, ashamed of the connection, denied the 
 paternity. He was then interrogated if he desired that the child 
 should be baptized ; but this also he answered in the negative, 
 lest, by such request, he should admit himself to be the father. 
 On which the child was left untouched and unbaptizcd. Where- 
 upon the mother, in extreme wrath, snatched up the infant and 
 the cup, and retired, leaving the priestly cope, of which fragments 
 
306 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 are still in preservation. But this female denounced and imposed 
 upon Sigward, and his posterity, to the ninth generation, a singular 
 disease, with which many of his descendants are afflicted at this 
 day." Thus wrote Einar Gudmund, pastor of the parish ot 
 Garpsdale, in Iceland, a man profoundly versed in learning, from 
 whose manuscript it was extracted by the learned Torfseus. — 
 Historia Hrolfi Krahii, Hafniae, 1715, prefatio. 
 
 NOTE XI. 
 
 And gaily shines the Fairy-land — 
 But all is glistening show. 
 
 St. XV. p. i:n. 
 
 No fact respecting Fairy-land seems to be better ascertained 
 than the fantastic and illusory nature of their apparent pleasure 
 and splendour. It has been already noticed, in the former 
 quotations from Dr. Grahame's entertaining volume, and may be 
 confirmed by the following Highland tradition: "A woman, 
 whose new-born child had been conveyed by them into their 
 secret abodes, was also carried thither herself, to remain, how- 
 ever, only until she should suckle her infant. She, one day, 
 during this period, observed the Shi'ichs busily emplo3^ed in 
 mixing various ingredients in a boiling cauldron ; and, as soon 
 as the composition was prepared, she remarked that they all 
 carefully anointed their eyes with it, laying the remainder aside 
 for future use. In a moment when they were all absent, she 
 also attempted to anoint her eyes with the precious drug, but had 
 time to apply it to one eye only, when the Daoine Shi returned. 
 But with that eye she was henceforth enabled to see every thing 
 as it really passed in their secret abodes : — she saw every object, 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 807 
 
 not as she hilliv-rio had done, in deceptive splendour and elegance, 
 but in its genuine colours and form. The gaudy ornaments of 
 the apartment were reduced to the walls of a gloomy cavern. 
 Soon after, having discharged her office, she was dismissed to 
 her own home. Still, liowever, she retained the faculty of seeing, 
 with her medicated eye, every thing that was done, anywhere 
 in her presence, by the deceptive art of the order. One day, 
 amidst a throng of people, she chanced to observe the ShVich, 
 or man of peace, in whose possession she had left her child ; 
 though to every other eye invisible. Prompted by maternal 
 affection, she inadvertently accosted him, and began to inquire 
 after the welfare of her child. The man of peace, astonished at 
 being thus recognised by one of mortal race, demanded how she 
 had been enabled to discover him. Awed by the terrible frown 
 of his countenance, she acknowledged what she had done. He 
 spat in her eye, and extinguished it for ever." — Grahame's 
 Sketches, p. llG-118. It is very remarkable, that this story, 
 translated by Dr. Grahame from popular Gaelic tradition, is to 
 be found in the Otia Imperiaha of Gervase of Tilbury. A work 
 of great interest might be compiled upon the origin of popular 
 fiction, and the transmission of similar tales from age to age, 
 and from country to country. The mythology of one period 
 would then appear to pass into the romance of the next centurjs 
 and that into the nursery-tale of the subsequent ages. Such an 
 investigation, while it went greatly to diminish our ideas of the 
 richness of human invention, Avould also show, that these fictions, 
 however wild and childish, possess such charms for the popu- 
 lace, as enable them to penetrate into countries unconnected by 
 manners and language, and having no apparent intercourse, to 
 afford the means of transmission. It would carry me far beyond 
 my bounds, to produce instances of this community of fable. 
 
308 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 among nations who never borrowed from each other any thing 
 intrinsically worth learning. Indeed the wide diffusion of popu- 
 lar fictions may be compared to the facility with which straws 
 and feathers are dispersed abroad by the wind, while valuable 
 metals cannot be transported without trouble and labour. There 
 lives, I beheve, only one gentleman, whose unlimited acquaint- 
 ance with this subject might enable him to do it justice ; I mean 
 my friend Mr. Francis Douce, of the British Museum, whose 
 usual kindness will, I hope, pardon my mentioning his name, 
 while on a subject so closely connected with his extensive and 
 curious researches. 
 
 NOTE XII. 
 
 / sunk down in a sinful fray, 
 £nd, ^twixt life and death, ivas snotcWd array 
 To the joyless Elfin bower. 
 
 St. XV. p. 132. 
 
 The subjects of Fairy-land were recruited from the regions of 
 humanity b)-^ a sort of crimping system, which extended to 
 adults as well as to infants. Many of those who were in this 
 world supposed to have discharged the debt of nature, had only 
 become denizens of the " Londe of Faery." In the beautiful 
 Fairy Romance of Orfee and Heurodiis (Orpheus and Eurydice) 
 in the Auchinleck MS., is a striking enumeration of persons thus 
 abstracted from middle earth. Mr. Ritson unfortunately pub- 
 lished this romance from a copy in which this and many other 
 highly poetical passages do not occur. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 309 
 
 ■Then he gan biholde aboute al, 
 And scighe Tul liggeand within the wal 
 Of folk that were thidder y-brought, 
 And thought dede and nere nought ; 
 Some stode withouten hadde ; 
 And sum none armes nade ; 
 And sum thurch the bodi hadde wounde 
 And sum lay wode y-bounde ; 
 And sum armed on hors sete ; 
 And sum astrangled as thai ete ; 
 And sum war in water adreynt ; 
 And sum with fire al for-schreynt ; 
 Wives there lay on childe bedde ; 
 Sum dede, and sum awedde ; 
 And wonder fele ther lay besides, 
 Right as thai slepe her undertides ; 
 Eche was thus in this warld y-nome, 
 With fairi thidor y-come," 
 
 NOTE XIII. 
 
 TVho ever reck\l where, how, or when. 
 The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain? 
 
 St. XXX. p. 148. 
 
 St. John actually used this illustration when engaged in con- 
 futing the plea of law proposed for the unfortunate Eari of 
 Strafford : " It was true, we gave laws to hares and deer, because 
 they are beasts of chase ; but it was never accounted either 
 cruelty or foul play to knock foxes or wolves on the head as they 
 can be found, because they are beasts of prey. In a word, the 
 
310 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 law and humanity were alike ; the one being more fallacious, and 
 the other more barbarous, than in any age had been vented in 
 such an authority." — Clarendon's History of the Rebellion. 
 
 NOTE XIV. 
 
 His Highland cheer. 
 The harden'' d Jlcsh of mountain-deer. 
 
 St. xxxi. p. 149. 
 
 The Scottish Highlanders, in former times, had a concise 
 mode of cooking their venison, or rather of dispensing with 
 cooking it, which appears greatly to have surprised the French, 
 whom chance made acquainted with it. The Vidanie of Chartres, 
 when a hostage in England, during the reign of Edward VI., 
 was permitted to travel into Scotland, and penetrated as far as to 
 the remote Highlands, [cm. fin fond des Sanvages.) After a 
 great hunting party, at which a most wonderful quantity of 
 game was destroyed, he saw these Scottish Savages devour a 
 part of their venison raw, without any further preparation than 
 compressing it between two battens of wood, so as to force out 
 the blood, and render it extremely hard. This they reckoned a 
 great delicacy ; and when the Vidame partook of it, his com- 
 pliance with their taste rendered him extremely popular. This 
 curious trait of manners was communicated by Mons. de Mont- 
 morenc}^, a great friend of the Vidame, to Brantome, by whom 
 it is recorded in Vies des Hommes Illustres, Discoicrs Ixxxix., 
 art. 14. The process by which the raw venison was rendered 
 eatable is described very minutely in the romance of Perceforest, 
 where Estonne, a Scottish knight-errant, having slain a deer, 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 311 
 
 says to his companion Claudiiis : "Sire, or inangerez vous et 
 rnoy aussi. Voire si nous auions de feu, dit Claudius. Pur 
 Tame de mon pere, dist Estonne, ie vous atourneray et cuiray a 
 la maniere de nostre pays comme pour cheualier errant. Lors 
 lira son espee, et sen vint a la branche dung arbre, et y fait vng- 
 grant trou, et puis fend la branche bien deux piedz, et boute, la 
 cuisse du curf entredeux, et puis prent le licol de son cheval, et 
 en lye la branche, et destraint si fort, que le sang et les hunieurs 
 de la chair saillent hors et demeure la chair doulce et seiche. 
 Lors prent la chair, et oste ius le cuir, et la chaire demeure aussi 
 blanche comme si ce feust dung chappon. Dont dist a Claudius, 
 Sire, ie la vous ay cuiste a la guise de mon pays, vous en pouez 
 manger hardyement, car ie mangeray premier. Lors met sa 
 main a sa selle en vng Ueu quil y auoit, et tire hors sel et poudre 
 de poiure et gingembre, mesle ensemble, et le iecte dessus, et le 
 frote sus bien fort, puis le couppe a moytie, et en donne a Claudius 
 I'une des pieces, et puis mort en I'autre aussi sauoureusement 
 quil est aduis que il en feist le pouldre voUer. Quant Claudius 
 veit quil le mangeoit de tel goust, il en print grant faim et com- 
 mence a manger tresvoulenliers, et dist a Estonne ; Par Tame de 
 moy, ie ne mangeay oncquesmais de chair atournee de telle 
 guise : mais doresenauant ie ne me retourneroye pas hors de 
 mon chemin par auoir la cuite. Sire, dist Estonne, quant ie 
 suis en desers d'Escosse, donl ie suis seigneur, ie cheuaucheray 
 huit iours ou quinze que ie n'entreray en chastel ne en maison, 
 et si ne verray feu ne personne viuant fors que bestes sauuages, 
 et de celles mangeray atournees en ceste maniere, et mieulx me 
 plaira que la viande de I'empereur. Ainsi sen vont mangeant et 
 cheuauchant iusques adonc quilz arriuerent sur une moult belle 
 fontaine qui estoit en vne valee. Quant Estonne la vit il dist a 
 Claudius, allons boire a ceste fontaine. Or beuuons, dist Estonne, 
 
312 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 du boire que le grant dieu a pourueu a toutes gens, et que me 
 plaist mieulx que les ceruoises d'Angleterre." — La Treselegante 
 Hystoire du Iresnoble Roy Peixeforcst. Paris, 1531, fol. tome i. 
 fol. Iv. vers. 
 
 After all, it may be doubted whether la chaire nosfree, for so 
 the French called the venison thus summarily prepared, was any 
 thing more than a mere rude kind of deer-ham. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 NOTE I. 
 
 Not then claim' d sovereignty his dues 
 While Albany, with feeble hand. 
 Held borrowed truncheon of command. 
 
 St. vi. p. 156. 
 
 There is scarcely a more disorderly period in Scottish history 
 than that which succeeded the battle of Flodden, and occupied 
 the minority of James V. Feuds of ancient standing broke out 
 hke old wounds, and every quarrel among the independent nobi- 
 lity, which occurred daily, and almost hourly, gave rise to fresh 
 bloodshed. "There arose," says Pitscottie, "great trouble and 
 deadly feuds in many parts of Scotland, both in the north and 
 west parts. The Master of Forbes, in the north, slew the Laird 
 of Meldrum under tryst, (i. e. at an agreed and secure meet- 
 ing.) Likewise, the Laird of Drummelzier slew the Lord Fle- 
 ming at the hawking; and, likewise, there was slaughter among 
 many other great lords." p. 121. Nor Avas the matter much 
 mended under the government of the Earl of Angus : for though 
 he caused the King to ride through all Scotland, " under pre- 
 tence and colour of justice, to punish thief and traitor, none 
 
314 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 were found greater than were in their own company. And none 
 at that time durst strive with a Douglas, nor j-et with a Douglas's 
 man, for if they did, they got the worse. Therefore, none durst 
 plainzie of no extortion, theft, reiff, nor slaughter, done to them 
 by the Douglasses, or their men ; in that cause they were not 
 heard, so long as the Douglasses had the court in guiding." — 
 Ibid. p. 133. 
 
 NOTE II. 
 
 Tlie Gael, of plain and river heir, 
 
 Shall, wilh strong hand, redeem his share. 
 
 St. vii. p. 158. 
 
 The ancient Highlanders verified in their practice the lines of 
 Gray : 
 
 "An iron race the mountain cliffs maintain. 
 Foes to the gentler genius of the plain ; 
 For where unwearied sinews must be found, 
 Wilh sidelong plough to quell the flinty ground ; 
 To turn the torrent's swift-descending flood. 
 To tame the savage, rushing from the wood ; 
 What wonder if, to patient valour train'd. 
 The}' guard with spirit what by strength the}' gain'd; 
 And while their rocky ramparts round they see 
 The rough abode of want and liberty, 
 (As lawless force from confidence will grow,) 
 Insult the plenty of the vales below." 
 
 So far, indeed, Avas a Creagh, or foray, from being held dis- 
 graceful among the ancient Highlanders, that a young chief was 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 315 
 
 always expected to show his talents for command so soon as he 
 assumed it, by leading his clan on a successful enterprise of this 
 nature, either against a neighbouring sept, for which constant 
 feuds usually furnished an apology, or against the Sassenacli, 
 Saxons, or Lowlanders, for which no apology was necessary. 
 The Gael, great traditional historians, never forgot that the Low- 
 lands had, at some remote period, been the property of their 
 Celtic forefathers, which furnished an ample vindication of all 
 the ravages that they could make on the unfortunate districts 
 which lay within their reach. Sir James Grant of Grant is in 
 possession of a letter of apology from Cameron of Lochiel, 
 whose men had committed some depredation upon a farm called 
 Moines, occupied by one of the Grants. Lochiel assures Grant, 
 that, however the mistake had happened, his instructions were 
 precise, that the party should foray the province of Moray, (a 
 Lowland district,) where, as he coolly observes, " all men take 
 their prey." 
 
 NOTE in. 
 
 / onJjj meant 
 
 To show the reed on which you leant, 
 Deeming this path you might pursue 
 Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 
 
 St. xi. p. 162. 
 
 This incident, like some other passages in the poem, illustra- 
 tive of the character of the ancient Gael, is not imaginary, but 
 borrowed from fact. The Highlanders, with the inconsistency 
 of most nations in the same state, were alternately capable of 
 
316 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 great exertions of generosity, and of cruel revenge and perfidy. 
 The following story I can only quote from tradition, but with 
 such an assurance from those by whom it was communicated, as 
 permits me little doubt of its authenticity. Early in the last 
 century, John Gunn, a noted Cateran, or Highland robber, 
 infested Inverness-shire, and levied black mail up to the walls 
 of the provincial capital. A garrison was then maintained in 
 the castle of that town, and their pay (country banks being 
 unknown) was usually transmitted in specie, under the guard of 
 a small escort. It chanced that the officer who commanded this 
 little party was unexpectedly obliged to halt, about thirty miles 
 from Inverness, at a miserable inn. About nightfall, a stranger, 
 in the Highland dress, and of very prepossessing appearance, 
 entered the same house. Separate accommodation being impos- 
 sible, the Englishman offered the newly-arrived guest a part of 
 his supper, which was accepted with reluctance. By the con- 
 versation, he found his new acquaintance knew well all the 
 passes of the country, which induced him eagerly to request his 
 company on the ensuing morning. He neither disguised his 
 business and charge, nor his apprehensions of that celebrated 
 freebooter, John Gunn. The Highlander hesitated a moment, 
 and then frankly consented to be his guide. Forth they set in 
 the morning ; and in travelling through a solitary and dreary 
 glen, the discourse again turned on John Gunn. " Would you 
 like to see him?" said the guide; and, without waiting an answer 
 to this alarming question, he whistled, and the EngHsh officer, 
 with his small party, was surrounded by a body of Highlanders, 
 whose numbers put resistance out of question, and who were all 
 well armed. " Stranger," resumed the guide, " I am that very 
 John Gunn by whom you feared to be intercepted, and not 
 without cause ; for I came to the inn last night with the express 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 317 
 
 purpose of learning your route, that I and my followers might 
 ease you of your charge by the road. But I am incapable of 
 betraying the trust you reposed in me, and having convinced 
 you that you are in my power, I can only dismiss you un- 
 plundered and uninjured." He then gave the officer directions 
 for his journey, and disappeared with his party, as suddenly as 
 they had presented themselves. 
 
 NOTE IV. 
 
 On Bochastlejhe mouldering lines. 
 Where Borne, the empress of the world. 
 Of yore her eagle icings imfurVd. 
 
 St. xii. p. 163. 
 
 The torrent which discharges itself from Loch Vennachar, the 
 lowest and eastmost of the three lakes which form the scenery 
 adjoining to the Trosachs, sweeps through a flat and extensive 
 moor, called Bochastle. Upon a small eminence, called the 
 Dun of Bochastle, and indeed on the plain itself, are some 
 entrenchments which have been thought Roman. There is, 
 adjacent to Callander, a sweet villa, the residence of Captain 
 Fairfoul, entitled the Roman Camp. 
 
 8i>3 
 
318 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 NOTE V. 
 
 See, here, all vantageless 1 stand, 
 JintCd like thyself, with single brand. 
 
 St. xii. p. 164. 
 
 The duellists of former times did not always stand upon those 
 punctilios respecting equality of arms, which are now judged 
 essential to fair combat. It is true, that in formal combats in 
 the lists, the parties were, by the judges of the field, put as nearly 
 as possible in the same circumstances. But in private duel it 
 was often otherwise. In that desperate combat which was fought 
 between Quelus, a minion of Henry III. of France, and Antra- 
 guet, with two seconds on each side, from which only two persons 
 escaped ahve, Gluelus complained that his antagonist had over 
 him the advantage of a poniard which he used in parrying, while 
 his left hand, which he was forced to employ for the saine pur- 
 pose, was cruelly mangled. When he charged Antraguet with 
 this odds, "Thou hast done wrong," answered he, "to forget 
 thy dagger at home. We are here to fight, and not to settle 
 punctihos of arms." In a similar duel, however, a younger 
 brother of the house of Aubayne, in Angoulesme, behaved more 
 generously on the like occasion, and at once threw away his 
 dagger Avhen his enemy challenged it as an undue advantage. 
 But at this time hardly any thing can be conceived more horridly 
 brutal and savage, than the mode in which private quarrels were 
 conducted in France. Those who were most jealous of the point 
 of honour, and acquired the title of JRiiffines, did not scruple to 
 take every advantage of strength, numbers, surprise, and arms, 
 to accompHsh their revenge. The Sieur de Brantome, to whose 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 319 
 
 discourse on duels I am obliged for these particulars, gives the 
 following account of the death and principles of his friend, the 
 Baron de Vitaux. 
 
 "J'ay oui conter a un Tireur d'armes, qui apprit a Millaud a 
 en tirer, lequel s'appelloit le Seigneur Jacques Ferron, de \a. ville 
 d'Ast, qui avoit este a moy, il fut despuis tue a Saincte-Basille 
 en Gascogne, lors que Monsieur du Mayne I'assiegea, lui servant 
 d'Ingeuieur ; et de malheur, je I'avois adresse audit Baron 
 quelques trois mois auparavant, pour I'exercer a tirer, bien qu'il 
 en s^eust prou ; mais il n'en fit conte : et le laissant, Millaud s'en 
 servit, et le rendit fort adroit. Ce Seigneur Jacques done me 
 raconta, qu'il s'estoit monte sur un noyer, assez loing, pour en 
 voir le combat, et qu'il ne vist jamais homme y aller plus brave- 
 ment, ny plus resolument, nj'^ de grace plus asseuree, ny deter- 
 minee. II commenga de marcher de cinquante pas vers son 
 ennemy, relevant, souvent ses moustaches en haut d'une main ; 
 et estant a vingt pas de son ennemy (non plustost), il mit la main 
 a I'espee qu'il tenoit en la main, non qu'il I'eust tiree encore ; 
 mais en marchant, il fit voller le fourreau en I'air, en le secouant, 
 ce qui est le beau de cela, et qui monstroit bien une grace de 
 combat bien asseuree et froide, et nullement temera'ire, comme 
 il y en a qui tirent leurs espees de cinq cents pas de I'ennemy, 
 voire de mille, comme j'en ay veu aucuns. Ainsi mourut ce 
 brave Baron, le paragon de France, qu'on nommoit tel, a bien 
 venger ses querelles, par grandes et determinees resolutions. 
 II n'estoit pas seulement estime en France, mais en Italie, 
 Espaigne, AUemaigne, en Boulogne et Angleterre ; et desiroient 
 fort les Estrangers, venant en France, le voir ; car je I'ay veu, 
 tant sa renommee voUoit. II estoit fort petit de corps, mais fort 
 grand de courage. Ses ennemis disoient qu'il ne tuoit pas bien 
 ses gens, que par advantages et supercheries. Certes, je tiens 
 
320 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 de grandes capitaines, et mesme d'ltaliens, qui sont estez d'autres 
 fois les premiers vengeurs du monde, in ogni modo, disoient ils, 
 qui ont tenu cette maxime, qu'une supercherie ne se devoit payer 
 que par semblable monnoye, et n'y alloit point la de deshonneur." 
 — Oeuvres de Brantome, Paris, 1767-8, tome viii. p. 90-92. It 
 may be necessary to inform the reader, that this paragon of 
 France was the most foul assassin of his time, and had committed 
 many desperate murders, chiefly by the assistance of his hired 
 banditti ; from which it may be conceived how little the point of 
 honour of the period deserved its name. I have chosen to give 
 the heroes, who are indeed of an earlier period, a stronger tincture 
 of the spirit of chivalry. 
 
 NOTE VI. 
 
 Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 
 That on the field his targe he threvj. 
 
 St. XV. p. 166. 
 
 A round target of light wood, covered with strong leather, 
 and studded with brass or iron, was a necessary part of a High- 
 lander's equipment. In charging regular troops they received 
 the thrust of the bayonet in this buckler, twisted it aside, and 
 used the broadsword against the encumbered soldier. In the 
 civil war of 1745, most of the front rank of the clans were thus 
 armed ; and Captain Grose informs us, that in 1747, the privates 
 of the 42d regiment, then in Flanders, were for the most part 
 permitted to carry targets. — Military Antiquities, vol. i. p. 164. 
 A person thus armed had a considerable advantage in private 
 fray. Among verses between Swift and Sheridan, lately pub- 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 321 
 
 lished by Dr. Barrett, there is an account of such an encounter, 
 in which the circumstances, and consequently the relative 
 superiority of the combatants, are precisely the reverse of those 
 in the text : 
 
 " A Highlander once fought a Frenchman at Margate, 
 The weapons, a rapier, a backsword, and target ; 
 Brisk Monsieur advanced as fast as he could, 
 But all his fine pushes were caught in the wood. 
 And Sawney, with backsword, did slash him and nick him. 
 While t'other, enraged that he could not once prick him, 
 Cried, ' Sirrah, you rascal, you son of a whore. 
 Me will fight you, be gar ! if you'll come from your door.' " 
 
 NOTE VII. 
 
 For, trained abroad his arms to wield, 
 Fitz-James^s blade was sword and shield. 
 
 St. XV. p. 167. 
 
 The use of defensive armour, and particularly of the buckler 
 or target, was general in dueen Elizabeth's time, although that 
 of the single rapier seems to have been occasionally practised 
 much earlier.* Rowland Yorke, however, who betrayed the fort 
 of Zutphen to the Spaniards, for which good service he was 
 afterwards poisoned by them, is said to have been the first who 
 brought the rapier-fight into general use. Fuller, speaking of 
 
 ' See Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. Gl. 
 
822 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 the swash-bucklers, or bulHes, of Q,ueen Elizabeth's time, says, 
 "West Smilhfield was formerly called Ruffian's Hall, where 
 such men usually met, casually or otherwise, to try masteries 
 with sword and buckler. More were frightened than hurt, more 
 hurt than killed therewith, it being accounted unmanly to strike 
 beneath the knee. But since that desperate traitor Rowland 
 Yorke first introduced thrusting with rapiers, sword and buckler 
 are disused." In " The Two Angry Women of Abingdon," a 
 comedy, printed in 1599, we have a pathetic complaint : — 
 " Sword and buckler fight begins to grow out of use. I am 
 sorry for it : I shall never see good manhood again. If it be 
 once gone, this poking fight of rapier and dagger will come up ; 
 then a tall man and a good sword and buckler man will be spitted 
 like a cat or rabbit." But the rapier had, upon the continent, 
 long superseded, in private duel, the use of sword and shield. 
 The masters of the noble science of defence were chiefly Italians. 
 They made great mystery of their art and mode of instruction, 
 never suffered any person to be present but the scholar who was 
 to be taught, and even examined closets, beds, and other places 
 of possible concealment. Their lessons often gave the most 
 treacherous advantages ; for the challenger, having the right to 
 choose his weapons, frequently selected some strange, unusual, 
 and inconvenient kind of arms, the use of which he practised 
 under these instructers, and thus killed at his ease his antagonist, 
 to whom it was presented for the first time on the field of battle. 
 Sec Brantome's Discourse on Duels, and the work on the same 
 subject, " si gentcmcnt ecrit" by the venerable Dr. Paris de 
 Puteo. The Highlanders continued to use broadsword and target 
 until disarmed after the affair of 1745-6. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 323 
 
 NOTE VIII. 
 
 Like mountain-cat ivho guards her young, 
 Full at Fit z- James's throat he sprung. 
 
 St. xvi. p. 168. 
 
 I have not ventured to render this duel so savagely desperate 
 as that of the celebrated Sir Ewan of Lochiel, chief of the clan 
 Cameron, called, from his sable complexion, Ewan Dhu. He 
 was the last man in Scotland who maintained the royal cause 
 during the great civil war, and his constant incursions rendered 
 him a very unpleasant neighbour to the republican garrison at 
 Inverlochy, now Fort William. The governor of the fort de- 
 tached a party of three hundred men to lay waste Lochiel's 
 possessions, and cut down his trees ; but, in a sudden and despe- 
 rate attack, made upon them by the chieftain, with very inferior 
 numbers, they were almost all cut to pieces. The skirmish is 
 detailed in a curious memoir of Sir Ewan's life, printed in the 
 Appendix of Pennant's Scottish Tour. 
 
 "In this engagement, Lochiel himself had several wonderful 
 escapes. In the retreat of the English, one of the strongest and 
 bravest of the officers retired behind a bush, when he observed 
 Lochiel pursuing, and seeing him unaccompanied with anj', he 
 leaped out, and thought him his prey. They met one another 
 with equal fury. The combat was long and doubtful ; the Eng- 
 lish gentleman had by far the advantage in strength and size ; 
 but Lochiel exceeding him in nimbleness and agility, in the end 
 tript the sword out of his hand : they closed, and wrestled, till 
 both fell to the ground, in each other's arms. The English 
 officer got above Lochiel, and pressed him hard, but stretching 
 
324 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 forth his neck, by attempting to disengage himself, Lochiel, who 
 by this time had his hands at liberty, with his left hand seized 
 him by the collar, and jumping at his extended throat, he bit it 
 with his teeth quite through, and kept such a hold of his grasp, 
 that he brought away his mouthful : this, he said, was the sweetest 
 bit he ever had in his lifetime.^^ — Vol. i. p. 375. 
 
 NOTE IX. 
 
 And thou, sad and fatal mound! 
 That oft hast heard the death-axe sound. 
 
 St. XX. p. 173. 
 
 Stirling was often polluted with noble blood. The fate of 
 WiUiam, eighth Earl of Douglas, whom James II. stabbed in 
 Stirling Castle with his own hand, and while under his royal 
 safe-conduct, is familiar to all who read Scottish history. Mur- 
 dack, Duke of Albany, Duncan, Earl of Lenox, his father-in- 
 law, and his two sons, Walter and Alexander Stuart, Avere 
 executed at Stirling, in 1425. They were beheaded upon an 
 eminence without the castle walls, but making part of the same 
 hill, from whence they could behold their strong castle of Doune, 
 and their extensive possessions. This " heading-hill," as it was 
 sometimes termed, bears commonly the less terrible name of 
 Hurly-hacket, from its having been the scene of a courtly amuse- 
 ment alluded to by Sir David Lindsay, who says of the pastimes 
 in which the young king was engaged, 
 
 " Some harled him to the Hurly-hacket ;" 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 325 
 
 which consisted in sliding, in some sort of chair it may be sup- 
 posed, from top to bottom of a smooth bank. The boys of Edin- 
 burgh, about twenty years ago, used to play at the Hurly-hacket 
 on the Calton Hill, using for their seat a horse's skull. 
 
 NOTE X. 
 
 The burghers hold their sports to-day. 
 
 St. XX. p. 174. 
 
 Every burgh of Scotland, of the least note, but more espe- 
 cially the considerable towns, had their solemn Jjlay, or festival, 
 when feats of archery were exhibited, and prizes distributed to 
 those who excelled in wrestling, hurling the bar, and other gym- 
 nastic exercises of the period. Stirling, a usual place of royal 
 residence, was not likely to be deficient in pomp upon such occa- 
 sions, especially since James V. was very partial to them. His 
 ready participation in these popular amusements Avas one cause 
 of his acquiring the title of King of the Commons, or Bex 
 Plebeiorum, as Leslie has Latinized it. The usual prize to the 
 best shooter was a silver arrow. Such a one is preserved at 
 Selkirk and at Peebles. At Dumfries, a silver gun was substi- 
 tuted, and the contention transferred to fire-arms. The ceremony, 
 as there performed, is the subject of an excellent Scottish poem, 
 by Mr. John Mayne, entitled the Siller Gun, Avhich surpasses the 
 efforts of Ferguson, and comes near those of Burns. 
 
 Of James's attachment to archery, Pitscottie, the faithful, 
 though rude recorder of the manners of that period, has given us 
 evidence : 
 
 2E 
 
326 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 "In this year there came an embassador out of England, 
 named Lord William Howard, with a bishop with him, with 
 many other gentlemen, to the luunber of threescore horse, 
 which were all the able men and waled (picked) men for all 
 kind of games and pastimes, shooting, louping, running, wrest- 
 ling, and casting of the stone, but they were well 'sayed (essayed 
 or tried) ere they pust out of Scotland, and that by their own pro- 
 vocation ; but ever they tint : till at last, the Q,ueen of Scotland, 
 the king's mother, favoured the Englishmen, because she was 
 the King of England's sister : and therefore she took an enter- 
 prise of archery on the Englishmen's hands, contrary her son 
 the king, and any six in Scotland that he would wale, either 
 gentlemen or yeomen, that the Englishmen should shoot against 
 them, either at pricks, revers, or buts, as the Scots pleased. 
 
 " The king hearing this of his mother, was content, and gart 
 her pawn a hundred crowns, and a tun of wine, upon the 
 Englishmen's hands; and he incontinent laid down as much for 
 the Scottish men. The field and ground was chosen in St. 
 Andrews, and three landed men and three yeomen chosen to 
 shoot against the Englishmen, to wit, David Wemyss of that 
 ilk, David Arnot of that ilk, and ^Ir. John WedJerburn, vicar 
 of Dundee ; the yeomen, John Thomson, in Leith, Stephen 
 Taburner, with a piper, called Alexander Bailie ; they shot very 
 near, and warred (worsted) the Englishmen of the enterprise, 
 and wan the hundred crowns and the tun of wine, which made 
 the king very merry that his men wan the victory.'* — p. 147. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 327 
 
 NOTE XL 
 liobin Hood. 
 
 St. xxii. p. 170. 
 
 The exhibition of this renowned outlaw and his band was a 
 favourite frohc at such festivals as we are describing. This 
 sporting, in which kings did not disdain to be actors, was prohi- 
 bited in Scotland upon the Reformation, by a statute of the Gth 
 Parliament of Q,ueen Mary, c. 01, A. D. 1555, which ordered, 
 under heavy penalties, that, " na manner of person be chosen 
 Robert Hude, nor Little John, Abbot of Unreason, Q,ueen of May, 
 nor otherwise." But, 1501, "the rascal multitude," saj^s John 
 Knox, " were stirred up to make a Robin Hude, wbilk enormity 
 was of mony years left and damned by statute and act of Parlia- 
 ment ; yet would they not be forbidden." Accordingly, they 
 raised a very serious tumult, and at length made prisoners the 
 magistrates who endeavoured to suppress it, and would not 
 release them till they extorted a formal promise that no one 
 should be punished for his share of the disturbance. It would 
 seem, from the complaints of the General Assembly of the Kirk, 
 that these profane festivities were continued down to 1592.* 
 Bold Robin was, to say the least, equally successful in main- 
 taining his ground against the reformed clergy of England : for 
 the simple and evangelical Latimer complains of coming to a 
 country church, where the people refused to hear him, because 
 it was Robin Hood's day ; and his mitre and rochet were fain to 
 give way to the village pastime. Much curious information on 
 this subject may be found in the Preliminary Dissertation to the 
 
 ■ Book of the Universal Kirk, p. 414. 
 
328 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 late Mr. Ritson's edition of the songs respecting this memorable 
 outlaw. The game of Robin Hood was usually acted in May ; 
 and he was associated with the morrice-dancers, on whom so 
 much illustration has been bestowed by the commentators on 
 Shakspeare. A very lively picture of these festivities, containing 
 a great deal of curious information on the subject of the private 
 hfe and amusements of our ancestors, was thrown, by the late 
 ingenious Mr. Strutt, into his romance entitled Q,ueen-hoo Hall, 
 published after his death, in 1808. 
 
 NOTE XII. 
 
 Indifferent as to archer ivight. 
 
 The Monarch gave the arrorv bright. 
 
 St. xxii. p. 177. 
 
 The Douglas of the poem is an imaginary person, a supposed 
 uncle of the Earl of Angus. But the king's behaviour during an 
 unexpected interview with the Laird of Kilspindie, one of the 
 banished Douglasses, under circumstances similar to those in 
 the text, is imitated from a real story told by Hume of Gods- 
 croft. I would have availed myself more fully of the simple and 
 aflecling circumstances of the old history, had they not been 
 already woven into a pathetic ballad by my friend Mr. Finlay.* 
 
 " His (the king's) implacability (towards the family of Dou- 
 glas) did also appear in his carriage towards Archibald of Kils- 
 pindie, whom he, when he was a child, loved singularly well for 
 
 ' See Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads. Glasgow, 1808, 
 vol. ii. p. 117. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 329 
 
 his ability of body, and was wont to call him his Gray-SteilL* 
 Archibald, being banished into England, could not well comport 
 with the humour of that nation, which he thought to be too 
 proud, and that they had too high a conceit of themselves, 
 joined with a contempt and despising of all others. Wherefore, 
 being wearied of that life, and remembering the king's favour of 
 old towards him, he determined to try the king's mercifulness 
 and clemency. So he comes into Scotland, and taking occasion 
 of the king's hunting in the park at Stirling, he casts himself to 
 be in his way, as he was coming home to the castle. So soon 
 as the king saw him afar off, ere he came near, he guessed it 
 was he, and said to one of his courtiers, yonder is my Gray- 
 Steill, Archibald of Kinspindie, if he be alive. The other 
 answered, that it could not be he, and that he durst not come 
 into the king's presence. The king approaching, he fell upon 
 his knees and craved pardon, and promised from thenceforward 
 to abstain from meddling in public affairs, and to lead a quiet 
 and private life. The king went by, without giving him any 
 answer, and trotted a good round pace up the hill. Kilspindie 
 followed, and, though he wore on him a secret, or shirt of mail, 
 for his particular enemies, was as soon at the castle-gate as the 
 king. There he sat him down upon a stone without, and 
 entreated some of the king's servants for a cup of drink, being 
 weary and thirsty ; but they, fearing the king's displeasure, durst 
 give him none. When the king was set at his dinner, he asked 
 what he had done, what he had said, and whither he had gone ? 
 It was told him that he had desired a cup of drink, and had 
 gotten none. The king reproved them very sharply for their 
 discourtesy, and told them, that if he had not taken an oath ihnt 
 
 'A champion of popular romance. Sec Ellis's Romnnccs, vol. iii. 
 
 2f. :> 
 
330 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 no Douglas should ever serve him, he would have received him 
 into his service, for he had seen him some time a man of great 
 ability. Then he sent him word to go to Leith, and expect his 
 further pleasure. Then some kinsmen of David Falconer, the 
 cannonier, that was slain at Tantallon, began to quarrel with 
 Archibald about the matter, wherewith the king showed himself 
 not well pleased when he heard of it. Then he commanded him 
 to go to France for a certain space, till he heard further from 
 him. And so he did, and died shortly after. This gave occa- 
 sion to the King of England (Henry VIII.) to blame his nephew, 
 alleging the old saying, ' that a king's face should give grace.' 
 For this Archibald (whatsoever were Angus's or Sir George's 
 fault) had not been principal actor of any thing, nor no coun- 
 sellor nor stirrer up, but only a follower of his friends, and that 
 noways cruelly disposed." — Hume of Godscroft, ii. 107. 
 
 NOTE XIII. 
 
 Prize of the wrestling match, the King 
 To Douglas gave a golden ring. 
 
 St. xxiil. p. 177. 
 
 The usual prize of a wrestling was a ram and a ring, but the 
 animal would have embarrassed my story. Thus, in the Cokes 
 Tale of Gamelyn, ascribed to Chaucer : 
 
 " There happed to be there beside 
 Tryed a wrestling ; 
 And therefore there was y-setten 
 A ram and als a ring." 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 331 
 
 Again the Litil Cjeste of Robin Hood : 
 
 " By a bridge was a wrestling, 
 
 And there tarryed was he, 
 And there was all the best yemen 
 
 Of all the west countrey. 
 A full fayre game there was set up, 
 
 A white bull up y-pight, 
 A great courser with saddle and brydle. 
 
 With gold burnished full bryght ; 
 A payre of gloves, a red golde ringe, 
 
 A pipe of wyne, good fay ; 
 What man bereth him best, I wis. 
 
 The prise shall bear away." 
 
 Ritson's Robin Hood, 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 NOTE I. 
 
 These drew not for their fields the sword, 
 Like tenants of a feuded lord. 
 
 St. iii. p. 191. 
 
 The Scoltish armies consisted chiefly of the nobility and 
 barons, with their vassals, who held lands under them, for mili- 
 tary service by themselves and their tenants. The patriarchal 
 influence exercised by the heads of clans in the Highlands and 
 Borders was of a different nature, and sometimes at variance 
 with feudal principles. It flowed from the Patrid Potestas, 
 exercised by the chieftain as representing the original father of 
 the whole name, and was often obeyed in contradiction to the 
 feudal superior. James V. seems first to have introduced, in 
 addition to the militia furnished from these sources, the service 
 of a small number of mercenaries, who formed a body-guard, 
 called the Foot Band. The satirical poet, Sir David Lindsay, 
 (or the person who wrote the prologue to his play of the " Three 
 Estates,") has introduced Finlay of the Foot Band, who, after 
 much swaggering upon the stage, is at length put to flight by 
 the Fool, who terrifies him by means of a sheep's skull upon a 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 333 
 
 pole. I have rather chosen to give them the harsh features of 
 the mercenary soldiers of the period, than of this Scottish Thraso. 
 These partook of the character of the Adventurous Companions 
 of Froissart, or the Condottieri of Italy. 
 
 One of the best and liveliest traits of such manners is the last 
 will of a leader, called Geffroy Tete Noir, who having been 
 slightly wounded in a skirmish, his intemperance brought on a 
 mortal disease. When he found himself dying he summoned to 
 his bedside the adventurers whom he commanded, and thus 
 addressed them : 
 
 "Fayre sirs, quod Geffray, I know well ye have alwayes 
 served and honoured me as men ought to serve their soveraygne 
 and capitayne, and I shal be the gladder if ye will agre to have 
 to your capitayne one that is descended of my blode. Behold 
 here Aleyne Roux, my cosyn, and Peter his brother, who are 
 men of arms and of my blode. I require you to mak Aleyne 
 your capitayne, and to swere to him faythe, obeysaunce, love, 
 and loyalte, here in my presence, and also to his brother : howe 
 be it, I wyll that Aleyne have the soverayne charge. Sir, quod 
 they, we are well content, for ye hauve ryght well chosen. 
 There all the companyons made theym servyant to Aleyne Roux 
 and to Peter his brother. Whan all that was done, then Geffraye 
 spake agayne, and sayd : Nowe, sirs, ye hauve obeyed to my 
 pleasure, I canne you great thanke ; wherefore, sirs, I wyll ye 
 have parte of that ye have holpen to conquere. I say unto you, 
 that in yonder chest that ye se stande yonder, therein is to the 
 some of XXX thousande frankes, — I wyll give them accordynge 
 to my conscyence. Wyll ye all be content to fulfil my testa- 
 ment ; howe saye ye ? Sir, quod they, we be r3^ght well 
 contente to fulfyl your commaundement. Thane first, quod he, 
 I wyll and give to the chappell of Saynte George, here in this 
 
334 NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 castell, for the reparacions thereof, a thousaade and five hundrcde 
 frankes: and I give to my lover, Avho hath truly served me, two 
 thousand and five hundrede frankes : and also give to Aleyno 
 Roux, your newe capitayne, foure thousande frankes: also to the 
 varlcttes of my chambre I gyve fyve hundrede frankes. To 
 mine offycers I gyve a thousand and five hundrede frankes. 
 The rest I gyve and bequeath as I shall shew you. Ye be upon 
 a thyrlie companyons all of one sorte : ye ought to be bretherne, 
 and all of one alyaunce, without debate, ryotte, or slryfe among 
 you. All this that I have shewed you ye shall fynde in yonder 
 cheste. I wyll that ye departe all the resydue equally and 
 truelly betvvene you thyrtic. And if ye be nat thus content, but 
 that the devyille wyll set debate bttwene you, than beliokle 
 yonder is a strong axe, breke up the coffer, and getle it who can. 
 To tho^e words every man ansuered and said, Sir, and dere 
 maister, we are and shall be all of one accorde. Sir, we have 
 so moch loved and douted you, that we will breke no cofTer, nor 
 breke no poynt of that ye have ordayned and commaunded." — 
 Lord Berners' Froissart. 
 
 NOTE II. 
 
 Get thee an ape, and trudge the land. 
 The leader of a juggler hand. 
 
 St. vi. p. 194. 
 
 The jongleurs, or jugglers, as we learn from the elaborate 
 work of the late Mr. Strutt, on the sports and pastimes of the 
 people of England, used to call in the aid of various assistants, to 
 render these performances as captivating as possible. The glee- 
 maiden was a necessary attendant. Her duty was tumbling and 
 
NOTES TO OANTO SIXTH. 335 
 
 dancing ; and therefore the Anglo-Saxon version of Saint Mark's 
 Gospel states Herodias to have vaulted or tumbled before King 
 Herod. In Scotland, these poor creatures seem, even at a late 
 period, to have been bondswomen to their masters, as appears 
 from a case reported by Fountainhall. "Reid the mountebank 
 pursues Scot of Harden and his lady, for stealing awaj^ from him 
 a little girl, called the tumbling lassie, that danced upon his 
 stage ; and he claimed damages, and produced a contract, where- 
 by he bought her from her mother for 30/. Scots. But we have 
 no slaves in Scotland, and mothers cannot sell their bairns ; and 
 physicians attested the employment of tumbling would kill her ; 
 and her joints were now grown stifT, and she declined to 
 return ; though she was at least a 'prentice, and so could not run 
 away from her master: yet some cited Moses's law, that if a 
 servant shelter himself with thee, against his master's cruelty, 
 thou shall surely not deliver him up. The lords, renitente 
 cancellario, assoilzied Harden, on the 27th of January, (10&7.)" 
 — FoLXTAiNH all's DecisioHS, vol. i. p. 439.* 
 
 The facetious qualities of the ape soon rendered him an 
 acceptable addition to the strolling band of the jongleur. Ben 
 Jonson, in his splenetic introduction to the comedy of "Bartholo- 
 mew Fair," is at pains to inform the audience "that he has 
 
 ' Though less to my purpose I cannot help noticing a circumstance 
 respecting another of this Mr. Raid's attendants, which occurred during 
 James II. 's zeal for Catholic proselytism, and is told by Fountainhall, 
 with dry Scottish irony. '■'■January 17th, 1687. — Reid the mountebank 
 is received into the Popish church, and one of his blackamoores was 
 persuaded to accept of baptism from the Popish priests, and to turn 
 Christian papist ; which was a great trophy : he was called James, after 
 the king and chancellor, and the Apostle James." — Ibid. p. 410. 
 
336 NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 ne'er a sword-and-buckler man in his Fair, nor a juggler, with a 
 well-educated ape, to come over the chaine for the King of Eng- 
 land, and back again for the prince, and sit still on his haunches 
 for the Pope and the King of Spaine." 
 
 NOTE III. 
 
 That stirring air which peals on high, 
 O'er DermicVs race our victory, 
 Strike it. 
 
 St. xiv. p. 203. 
 
 There are several instances, at least in tradition, of persons 
 so much attached to particular tunes, as to require to hear them, 
 on their death-bed. Such an anecdote is mentioned by the late 
 Mr. Riddel of Glenriddel, in his collection of Border tunes, 
 respecting an air called the " Dandling of the Bairns," for which 
 a certain Gallovidian laird is said to have evinced this strong 
 mark of partiality. It is popularly told of a famous freebooter, 
 that he composed the tune known by the name of Macpherson's 
 Rant while under sentence of death, and played it at the gallows- 
 tree. Some spirited words have been adapted to it by Burns. 
 A similar story is recounted of a Welch bard, who composed and 
 played on his death-bed the air called Dafyddy Garregg TFen. 
 
 But the most curious example is given by Brantome, of a 
 maid of honour at the court of France, entitled. Mademoiselle 
 de Limeuil. "Durant sa maladie, dont elle trespassa, jamais 
 elle ne cessa, ains causa tousjours ; car elle estoit fort grande 
 parleuse, brocardeuse, et tr6s-bien et fort a propos, et tres-belle 
 avec cela. duand I'heure de sa fin fut venue, elle fit venir a 
 soy son valet (ainsi que le filles de la cour en ont chacune 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 337 
 
 un), qui s'appelloit Julien, et scavoit tres-bien jouer du violon. 
 ' Julien,' lui dit elle, ' prenez vostre violon, et sonnez moy tousjours 
 jusques a ce que me voyez morte (car je m'y en vais), la defaite 
 des Suisses, et le mieux que vous pourrez, et quand vous serez 
 sur le mot, ' Tout est perdu,' sonnez le par quatre ou cing fois, 
 le plus piteusement que vous pourrez, ce qui fit I'autre, et elle- 
 mesme luy aidoit de la voix, et quand ce vint • tout est perdu,' 
 elle le reitera par deux fois ; et se tournant de I'autre coste du 
 chevet, elle dit a ses compagnes : ' Tout est perdu a ce coup, et 
 a bon escient ;' et ainsi deceda. Voila une morte joj'^euse et 
 plaisante. Je tiens ce conte de deux de ses compagnes, dignes 
 de foi, qui virent jouer ce mystere." — CEuvres de Brantome, 
 iii. 507. 
 
 The tune to which this fair lady chose to make her final exit, 
 was composed on the defeat of the Swiss at Marignano. The 
 burden is quoted by Panurge, in Rabelais, and consists of these 
 words, imitating the jargon of the Swiss, which is a mixture of 
 French and German : 
 
 Tout est verlore 
 La Tintelore, 
 Tout est verlore bi Got ! 
 
 NOTE IV. 
 
 Battle of BeaP an Duine. 
 
 St. XV. p. 204. 
 
 A skirmish actually took place at a pass thus called in the 
 Trosachs, and closed with the remarkable incident mentioned lu 
 the text. It is greatly posterior in date to the reign of James V. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 "In this roughly wooded island/ the country people secreted 
 their wives and children, and their most valuable effects, from 
 the rapacity of Cromwell's soldiers, during their inroad into this 
 country, in the time of the republic. These invaders, not ventur- 
 ing to ascend by the ladders, along the side of the lake, took a 
 more circuitous road, through the heart of the Trosachs, the most 
 frequented path at that time, which penetrates the wilderness 
 about half way between Binean and the lake, by a tract called 
 Yea-chilleach, or the Old Wife's Bog. 
 
 " In one of the defiles of this by-road, the men of the country 
 at that time hung upon the rear of the invading enemy, and shot 
 one of Cromwell's men, whose grave marks the scene of action, 
 and gives name to that pass.^ In revenge of this insult the 
 soldiers resolved to plunder the island, to violate the women, 
 and put the children to death. With this brutal intention, one 
 of the party, more expert than the rest, swam towards the island, 
 to fetch the boat to his comrades which had carried the women 
 to their asylum, and lay moored in one of the creeks. His 
 companions stood on the shore of the main land, in full view of 
 all that was to pass, waiting anxiously for his return with the 
 boat. But just as the swimmer had got to the nearest point of 
 the island, and was laying hold of a black rock to get on shore, 
 a heroine, who stood on the very point where he meant to land, 
 hastily snatching a dagger from below her apron, Avith one 
 stroke severed his head from the body. His party seeing this 
 disaster, and relinquishing all future hope of revenge or con- 
 quest, made the best of their way out of their perilous situation. 
 
 ' That at the eastern extremity of Loch-Katrine, so often mentioned 
 in the text. 
 
 ^ Beallach an duine. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 339 
 
 This amazon's great-grandson lives at Bridge of Turk, who, 
 besides others, attests the anecdote." — Sketch of the Scenery 
 near Cullender. Stirling, 1806, p. 20. I have only to add to 
 this account, that the heroine's name was Helen Stuart. 
 
 NOTE V. 
 
 And Snoivdoun'' s knight is Scotland's Jung. 
 
 St. xxvi. p. 219. 
 
 This discovery will probably remind the reader of the beautiful 
 Arabian tale of // Bondocani. Yet the incident is not borrowed 
 from that elegant story, but from Scottish tradition. James V., 
 of whom we are treating, was a monarch whose good and benevo- 
 lent intentions often rendered his romantic freaks venial, if not 
 respectable, since, from his anxious attention to the interests of 
 the lower and most oppressed class of his subjects, he Avas, as 
 we have seen, popularly termed the King of the Commons. 
 For the purpose of seeing that justice was regularly administered, 
 and frequently from the less justifiable motive of gallantry, he 
 used to traverse the vicinage of his several palaces in various 
 disguises. The two excellent comic songs, entitled " The Gaber- 
 lunzie Man," and "We'll gae nae mair a roving," are said to 
 have been founded upon the success of his amorous adventures 
 when travelling in the disguise of a beggar. The latter is 
 perhaps the best comic ballad in any language. 
 
 Another adventure, which had nearly cost James his life, is 
 said to have taken place at the village of Cramond, near Edin- 
 burgh, where he had rendered his addresses acceptable to a 
 pretty girl of the lower rank. Four or five persons, whether 
 relations or lovers of his mistress is uncertain, beset the dis- 
 
340 NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 guised monarch, as he returned from his rendezvous. Naturally- 
 gallant, and an admirable master of his weapon, the king took 
 post on the high and narrow bridge over the Almond river, and 
 defended himself bravely with his sword. A peasant, who was 
 thrashing in a neighbouring barn, came out upon the noise, and, 
 whether moved by compassion or by natural gallantry, took the 
 weaker side, and laid about with his flail so effectually as to 
 disperse the assailants, well thrashed, even according to the 
 letter. He then conducted the king into his barn, where his 
 guest requested a basin and towel, to remove the stains of the 
 broil. This being procured with difficulty, James employed 
 himself in learning what was the summit of his dehverer's 
 earthly wishes, and found that they were bounded by the desire 
 of possessing, in property, the farm of Braehead, upon which he 
 laboured as a bondsman. The lands chanced to belong to the 
 crown ; and James directed him to come to the palace of Holy 
 Rood, and inquire for the Guidman {i. e., farmer) of Ballan- 
 giech, a name by which he was known in his excursions, and 
 which answered to the // Bondocani of Haroun Alraschid. He 
 presented himself accordingly, and found, with due astonish- 
 ment, that he had saved his monarch's life, and that he was to 
 be gratified with a crown charter of the lands of Braehead, 
 under the service of presenting a ewer, basin, and towel, for 
 the king to wash his hands, when he shall happen to pass the 
 Bridge of Cramond. This person was ancestor of the Howisons 
 of Braehead, in Mid Lothian, a respectable family, who continue 
 to hold the lands (now passed into the female line) under the 
 same tenure. 
 
 Another of James's frolics is thus narrated by Mr. Campbell, 
 from the Statistical Account. " Being once benighted when out 
 a hunting, and separated from his attendants, he happened to 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 341 
 
 i.^nter a cottage in the midst of the moor, at the foot of the Ocliil 
 Hills, near Alloa, where, unknown, he was kindly received. In 
 order to regale their unexpected guest, the gudeman [i. e., 
 landlord, farmer) desired the giideioife to fetch the hen that 
 roosted nearest the cock, which is always the plumpest, for the 
 stranger's supper. The king, highly pleased with his night's 
 lodging and hospitable entertainment, told mine host, at parting, 
 that he should be glad to return his civility, and requested that 
 the first time he came to Stirling he would call at the castle, and 
 inquire for the Gudeman of Ballengvich. Donaldson, the land- 
 lord, did not fail to call on the Gudeman of Ballenguich, w^hen 
 his astonishment at finding that the king had been his guest 
 afforded no small amusement to the merry monarch and his 
 courtiers ; and to carry on the pleasantry, he was thenceforth 
 designated by James with the title of King of the Moors, which 
 name and designation have descended from father to son ever 
 since, and they have continued in possession of the identical 
 spot, the property of Mr. Erskine of Mar, till very lately, when 
 this gentleman, with reluctance, turned out the descendant and 
 representative of the King of the Moors, on account of his 
 majesty's invincible indolence, and great dislike to reform or 
 innovation of any kind, although, from the spirited example of 
 his neighbour tenants on the same estate, he is convinced similar 
 exertion would promote his advantage." 
 
 The author requests permission yet farther to verify the sub- 
 ject of his poem, by an extract from the genealogical work of 
 Buchanan of Auchmar, upon Scottish surnames. 
 
 " This John Buchanan of Auchmar and Arnpryor was after- 
 wards termed King of Kippen,* upon the following account. 
 
 ■ A small district of Perthshire. 
 
 2f2 
 
342 NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 King James V., a very sociable, debonair prince, residing at 
 Stirling, in Buchanan of Arnpryor's time, carriers were very 
 frequently passing along the common road, being near Arn- 
 pryor's house, with necessaries for the use of the king's family ; 
 and he, having some extraordinary occasion, ordered one of 
 these carriers to leave his load at his house, and he would pay 
 him for it ; which the carrier refused to do, telling him he was 
 the king's carrier, and his load for his Majesty's use ; to which 
 Arnpryor seemed to have small regard, compelling the carrier, 
 in the end, to leave his load; telling him if King James was 
 King of Scotland, he was King of Kippen, so that it Avas reason- 
 able he should share with his neighbour king in some of these 
 loads, so frequently carried that road. The carrier representing 
 this usage, and telling the story, as Arnpryor spoke it, to some 
 of the king's servants, it came at length to his majesty's ears, 
 who, shortly thereafter, with a few attendants, came to visit his 
 neighbour king, who was in the mean time at dinner. King 
 James having sent a servant to demand access, was denied the 
 same by a tall fellow with a battle-axe, who stood porter at the 
 gate, telling, there could be no access till dinner was over. This 
 answer not satisfying the king, he sent to demand access a second 
 time; upon which he was desired by the porter to desist, other- 
 wise he would find cause to repent his rudeness. His majesty 
 finding this method would not do, desired the porter to tell his 
 master the Goodman of Ballageigh desired to speak with the 
 King of Kippen. The porter teUing Arnpryor so much, he, in 
 all humble manner, came and received the king, and having 
 entertained him with much sumptuousness and jollity, became so 
 agreeable to King James, that he allowed him to take so much of 
 any provision he found carrying that road as he had occasion for; 
 and seeing he made the first visit, desired Arnpryor in a few 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 343 
 
 days to return him a second to Stirling, which he performed, and 
 continued in very much favour with the king, always thereafter 
 being termed King of Kippen while he hved." — Buchanan's 
 Essay upon the Family of Buchanan. Edin. 1775, 8vo, p. 74. 
 The readers of Ariosto must give credit for the amiable fea- 
 tures with which he is represented, since he is generally consi- 
 dered as the prototype of Zerbino, the most interesting hero of 
 the Orlando Furioso. 
 
 NOTE VI. 
 
 Stirling's Tower 
 
 Of yore the name of Snoivdoun claims. 
 
 St. xxviii. p. 221. 
 
 WiUiam of Worcester, who wrote about the middle of the 
 fifteenth century, calls Stirling Castle Snowdoun. Sir David 
 Lindsay bestows the same epithet upon it in his Complaint of the 
 Papingo : 
 
 "Adieu, fair Snawdoun, with thy towers high. 
 Thy chaple-royal, park, and table round : 
 May, June, and July, would I dwell in thee, 
 Were I a man, to hear the birdis sound, 
 Whilk doth againe thy royal rock rebound." 
 
 Mr. Chalmers, in his late excellent edition of Sir David Lind- 
 say's works, has refuted the chimerical derivation of Snawdoun 
 from sneclding, or cutting. It was probably derived from the 
 romantic legend which connected Stirhng whh King Arthur, to 
 
344 NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 which the mention of the Round Table gives countenance. The 
 ring within which jousts were formerly practised, in the castle 
 park, is still called the Round Table, Snawdoun is the official 
 title of one of the Scottish heralds, whose epithets seem in all 
 countries to have been fantastically adopted from ancient history 
 or romance. 
 
 It appears from the preceding note, that the real name by 
 which James was actually distinguished in his private excursions, 
 was the Goodman of Ballenguich ; derived from a steep pass 
 leading up to the Castle of Stirling, so called. But the epithet 
 would not have suited poetry, and would besides at once, and 
 prematurely, have announced the plot to man}?- of my country- 
 men, among whom the traditional stories above mentioned are 
 still current. 
 
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