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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
TWENTIETH CENTURY TEXT-BOOKS 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 A. F. NIGHTINGALE, Ph.D., LL.D. 
 
 SUPERINTENDENT OF SCHOOLS, COOK COUNTY, ILLINOIS 
 FORMERLY SUPERINTENDENT OF HIGH SCHOOLS, CHICAGO 
 
Slii WALTER SCOTT. 
 
TWENTIETH CENTURY TEXT-BOOKS 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 BY 
 
 WALTER SCOTT 
 
 EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
 BY 
 
 JAMES CHALMERS, Ph.D., LL.D. 
 
 PRESIDENT, SOUTH DAKOTA STATE COLLEGE ; SOMETIME FELLOW 
 OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREWS, SCOTLAND 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1903 
 
A) 
 
 ? z 
 
 THt LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRESS, 
 
 Two Cof/ies Received 
 
 SEP 22 1903 
 
 Copyiight tntry 
 
 CLASS CO XXc, No 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 Copyright, 1903. by 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The preparing of this little book by the editor has 
 been a rare delight. He is as familiar with every scene 
 described in the poem as is any householder with his own 
 backyard or flower-garden. There is probably no richer 
 or more beautiful natural scenery in the world than the 
 Loch Katrine country. It is simple, sublime, grandly 
 mysterious, richly diversified. This romantic and pic- 
 turesque scenery makes a fitting background for Scott's 
 romantic and picturesque story. A more poetic setting 
 for a thrilling tale of love, outlawry, and chivalry could 
 scarcely be found anywhere. There is a freshness and 
 charm to Scottish Highland scenery equalled only by the 
 freshness and charm of Scott's matchless descriptions. 
 So that the best substitute for an actual visit to the Tro- 
 sachs is a careful reading of The Lady of the Lake. 
 
 This book is intended especially for eighth and ninth 
 grade pupils. It has therefore been prepared along 
 simple lines. For such pupils there is no need of an 
 elaborate introduction. What is much better for young 
 students is provided, namely, a brief but clear and at- 
 tractive outline of the story, with an explanation of the 
 setting, location, and environments — all this for the pur- 
 pose of making the poem, the country, and the people 
 more real. The main thing after all is to get the pupils 
 to read the poem with relish and real enjoyment. 
 
IV PREFACE 
 
 The notes, which will be found at the end of the 
 book, are few in number, and only such as will illumi- 
 nate the poem; allusions are explained, difficult words 
 commented on, and hidden meanings revealed. It is 
 taken for granted that pupils will have ready access to 
 the usual books of reference, such as the standard dic- 
 tionaries, encyclopedias, histories, and biographies. The 
 ability to use such books of reference repeatedly and with 
 the minimum loss of time is one of the chief evidences 
 of scholarly equipment; and pupils should early be 
 trained in this most important part of their education. 
 
 James Chalmers. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 The Lady of the Lake was first published in 1810, when. 
 Scott was thirty-nine, and it was dedicated to " the most 
 noble John James, Marquis of Abercorn." Eight thou- 
 sand copies were sold between June 3 and September 
 22, 1810, and repeated editions were subsequently called 
 for. In 1830, the following " Introduction " was prefixed 
 to the poem by the author: 
 
 After the success of Marmion, I felt inclined to ex- 
 claim with Ulysses in the Odyssey: — 
 
 OEtos luei* 5^ &(Q\o^ aaa/ros fKrirtXecrrat.' 
 tivv oSre ffKoirhv &.Wov. 
 
 Odys. X- 3. 
 
 " One venturous game my hand has won to-day — 
 Another, gallants, yet remains to play." 
 
 The ancient manners, the habits and customs of the 
 aboriginal race by whom the Highlands of Scotland were 
 inhabited, had always appeared to me peculiarly adapted 
 to poetry. The change in their manners, too, had taken 
 place almost within my own time, or at least I had 
 learned many particulars concerning the ancient state of 
 the Highlands from the old men of the last generation. 
 I had always thought the old Scottish Gael highly adapted 
 for poetical composition. The feuds and political dissen- 
 sions which, half a century earlier, would have rendered 
 the richer and wealthier part of the kingdom indisposed 
 to countenance a poem, the scene of which was laid in 
 the Highlands, were now sunk in the generous compas- 
 sion which the English, more than any other nation, feel 
 for the misfortunes of an honorable foe. The Poems of 
 
Vi INTRODUCTION 
 
 Ossian had by their popularity sufficiently shown that, 
 if writings on Highland subjects were qualified to interest 
 the reader, mere national prejudices were, in the present 
 day, very unlikely to interfere with their success. 
 
 I had also read a great deal, seen much, and heard 
 more, of that romantic country where I was in the habit 
 of spending some time every autumn; and the scenery 
 of Loch Katrine was connected with the recollection of 
 many a dear friend and merry expedition of former days. 
 This poem, the action of which lay among scenes so beau- 
 tiful and so deeply imprinted on my recollections, was 
 a labor of love, and it was no less so to recall the manners 
 and incidents introduced. The frequent custom of James 
 IV., and particularly of James V., to walk through their 
 kingdom in disguise, afforded me the hint of an, incident 
 which never fails to be interesting if managed with the 
 slightest address or dexterity. 
 
 I may now confess, however, that the employment, 
 though attended with great pleasure, was not without its 
 doubts and anxieties. A lady, to whom I was nearly re- 
 lated, and with whom I lived, during her whole life, on 
 the most brotherly terms of affection, was residing with 
 me at the time when the work was in progress, and used 
 to ask me, what I could possibly do to rise so early in 
 the morning (that happening to be the most convenient 
 to me for composition). At last I told her the subject 
 of my meditations; and I can never forget the anxiety 
 and affection expressed in her reply. " Do not be so 
 rash," she said, " my dearest cousin.^ You are already 
 
 ' Lockhart says : " The lady with whom Sir Walter Scott held this 
 conversation was, no douht, his aunt, Miss Christian Rutherford ; there 
 was no other female relation dead when this Introduction was written, 
 whom I can suppose him to have consulted on literary questions. Lady 
 Capulet, on seeing the corpse of Tybalt, exclaims, — 
 
 ' Tybalt, my cousin ! O my brother's child ! ' " 
 
INTRODUCTION vii 
 
 popular, — more so, perhaps, than you yourself will believe, 
 or than even I, or other partial friends, can fairly allow- 
 to your merit. You stand high, — do not rashly attempt 
 to climb higher, and incur the risk of a fall; for, depend 
 upon it, a favorite will not be permitted even to stumble 
 with impunity." I replied to this affectionate expostula- 
 tion in the words of Montrose, — 
 
 " ' Ho either fears his fate too much, 
 Or his deserts are small, 
 Who dares not put it to the touch 
 To gain or lose it all.' 
 
 " If I fail," I said, for the dialogue is strong in my 
 recollection, " it is a sign that I ought never to have suc- 
 ceeded, and I will write prose for life: you shall see no 
 change in my temper, nor will I eat a single meal the 
 worse. But if I succeed, 
 
 ' Up with the bonnie blue bonnet, 
 
 The dirk, and the feather, and a' ! ' " 
 
 Afterward I showed my affectionate and anxious 
 critic the first canto of the poem, which reconciled her 
 to my imprudence. Nevertheless, although I answered 
 thus confidently, with the obstinacy often said to be 
 proper to those who bear my surname, I acknowledge 
 that my confidence was considerably shaken by the warn- 
 ing of her excellent taste and unbiased friendship. Nor 
 was I much comforted by her retractation of the unfa- 
 vorable judgment, when I recollected how likely a natural 
 partiality was to effect that change of opinion. In such 
 cases, affection rises like a light on the canvas, improves 
 any favorable tints which it formerly exhibited, and 
 throws its defects into the shade. 
 
 I remember that about the same time a friend started 
 in to " heeze up my hope," like the " sportsman with his 
 cutty gun," in the old song. He was bred a farmer, but 
 2 
 
Viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 a man of powerful understanding, natural good taste, and 
 warm poetical feeling, perfectly competent to supply the 
 wants of an imperfect or irregular education. He was 
 a passionate admirer of field-sports, which we often pur- 
 sued together. 
 
 As this friend happened to dine with me at Ashestiel 
 one day, I took the opportunity of reading to him the 
 first canto of The Lady of the Lake, in order to ascertain 
 the effect the poem was likely to produce upon a person 
 who was but too favorable a representative of readers at 
 large. It is, of course, to be supposed that I determined 
 rather to guide my opinion by what my friend might ap- 
 pear to feel, than by what he might think fit to say. His 
 reception of my recitation, or prelection, was rather sin- 
 gular. He placed his hand across his brow, and listened 
 with great attention through the whole account of the 
 stag-hunt, till the dogs threw themselves into the lake 
 to follow their master, who embarks with Ellen Douglas. 
 He then started up with a sudden exclamation, struck 
 his hand on the table, and declared, in a voice of censure 
 calculated for the occasion, that the dogs must have been 
 totally ruined by being permitted to take the water after 
 such a severe chase. I own I was much encouraged by 
 the species of revery which had possessed so zealous a 
 follower of the sports of the ancient Nimrod, who had 
 been completely surprised out of all doubts of the reality 
 of the tale. Another of his remarks gave me less pleas- 
 ure. He detected the identity of the King with the wan- 
 dering knight, Fitz-James, when he winds his bugle to 
 summon his attendants. He was probably thinking of 
 the lively, but somewhat licentious, old ballad, in which 
 the denouement of a royal intrigue takes place as follows: 
 
 ' He took a bugle frae his side 
 He l)lcw both loud and whrill, 
 And four and twenty belted knights 
 Came skipping ower the hill ; 
 
INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 Then he took out a little knife, 
 
 Let a' bis duddies fa', 
 And he was the brawest gentleman 
 
 That was amang them a'. 
 
 And we '11 go no more a-roving," etc. 
 
 This discovery, as Mr. Pepys says of the rent in his 
 camlet cloak, was but a trifle, yet it troubled me; and I 
 was at a good deal of pains to efface any marks by which 
 I thought my secret could be traced before the conclusion, 
 when I relied on it with the same hope of producing effect, 
 with which the Irish post-boy is said to reserve a " trot 
 for the avenue." 
 
 I took uncommon pains to verify the accuracy of the 
 local circumstances of this story. I recollect, in particu- 
 lar, that to ascertain whether I was telling a probable 
 tale, I went into Perthshire, to see whether King James 
 could actually have ridden from the banks of Loch Ven- 
 nachar to Stirling Castle within the time supposed in the 
 poem, and had the pleasure to satisfy myself that it was 
 quite practicable. 
 
 After a considerable delay, Tlie Lady of the Lake ap- 
 peared in June, 1810; and its success was certainly so 
 extraordinary as to induce me for the moment to conclude 
 that I had at last fixed a nail in the proverbially incon- 
 stant wheel of Fortune, whose stability in behalf of an 
 individual who had so boldly courted her favors for three 
 successive times had not as yet been shaken. I had 
 attained, perhaps, that degree of reputation at which 
 prudence, or certainly timidity, would have made a halt, 
 and discontinued efforts by which I was far more likely 
 to diminish my fame than to increase it. But, as the 
 celebrated John Wilkes is said to have explained to his 
 late Majesty, that he himself, amid his full tide of pop- 
 ularity, was never a Wilkite, so I can, with honest truth, 
 exculpate myself from having been at any time a partisan 
 of my own poetry, even when it was in the highest fash- 
 
X INTRODUCTION 
 
 ion with the million. It must not be supposed that I 
 was either so ungrateful, or so superabundantly candid, 
 as to despise or scorn the value of those whose voice had 
 elevated me so much higher than my own opinion told 
 me I deserved. I felt, on the contrary, the more grateful 
 to the public, as receiving that from partiality to me, 
 which I could not have claimed from merit; and I en- 
 deavored to deserve the partiality, by continuing such 
 exertions as I was capable of for their amusement. 
 
 It may be that I did not, in this continued course of 
 scribbling, consult either the interest of the public or 
 my own. But the former had effectual means of defend- 
 ing themselves, and could, by their coldness, sufficiently 
 check any approach to intrusion; and for myself, I had 
 now for several years dedicated my hours so much to lit- 
 erary labor that I should have felt difficulty in employing 
 myself otherwise; and so, like Dogberry, I generously 
 bestowed all my tediousness on the public, comforting 
 myself with the reflection that, if posterity should think 
 me undeserving of the favor with which I was regarded 
 by my contemporaries, " they could not but say I had 
 the crown," and had enjoyed for a time that popularity 
 which is so much coveted. 
 
 I conceived, however, that I held the distinguished 
 situation I had obtained, however unworthily, rather like 
 the champion of pugilism,^ on the condition of being 
 always ready to show proofs of my skill, than in the 
 manner of the champion of chivalry, who performs his 
 duties only on rare and solemn occasions. I was in any 
 case conscious that I could not long hold a situation 
 
 ' Lockhart quotes Byron, Don .hian, xi. 55 : 
 
 " In twice five years the ' pfrcatest living: poet,' 
 Lilce to the champion in the fisty ring, 
 Is called on to support his claim, or show it, 
 . Although 't is an imaginary thing," etc. 
 
INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 which the caprice, rather than the judgment, of the pub- 
 lic, had bestowed upon me, and preferred being deprived 
 of my precedence by some more worthy rival, to sinking 
 into contempt for my indolence, and losing my reputa- 
 tion by what Scottish lawyers call the negative prescrip- 
 tion. Accordingly, those who choose to look at the In- 
 troduction to Rokeby, will be able to trace the steps by 
 which I declined as a poet to figure as a novelist; as the 
 ballad says, Queen Eleanor sunk at Charing Cross to rise 
 again at Queenhithe. 
 
 It only remains for me to say that, during my short 
 pre-eminence of popularity, I faithfully observed the 
 rules of moderation which I had resolved to follow before 
 I began my course as a man of letters. If a man is de- 
 termined to make a noise in the world, he is as sure to 
 encounter abuse and ridicule, as he who gallops furiously 
 through a village must reckon on being followed by the 
 curs in full cry. Experienced persons know that in 
 stretching to flog the latter, the rider is very apt to catch 
 a bad fall; nor is an attempt to chastise a malignant 
 critic attended with less danger to the author. On this 
 principle, I let parody, burlesque, and squibs find their 
 own level; and while the latter hissed most fiercely, I was 
 cautious never to catch them up, as schoolboys do, to 
 throw them back against the naughty boy who fired them 
 off, wisely remembering that they are in such cases apt 
 to explode in the handling. Let me add, that my reign 
 (since Byron has so called it) was marked by some in- 
 stances of good-nature as well as patience. I never re- 
 fused a literary person of merit such services in smoothing 
 his way to the public as were in my power; and I had 
 the advantage, rather an uncommon one with our irri- 
 table race, to enjoy general favor without incurring per- 
 manent ill-will, so far as is known to me, among any of 
 my contemporaries. -yy g 
 
 Abbotsfoed, April, 1830. 
 
Xll 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The Setting, Locatioj^, and Environments of the 
 
 Stoky 
 
 (It is hoped that this brief outline, abridged from Scott's " Tales of 
 a Grandfather," may not only enable the reader to gain a better knowl- 
 edge of the poem, but also awaken an interest in this important epoch 
 of Henry the Eighth, and Elizabeth of England, and James V. and 
 Mary Queen of Scots, and her son, James VI., under whom both king- 
 doms were united.) 
 
 There were two great divisions of the country, 
 namely, the Highlands and the Borders, which were so 
 much wilder and more barbarous than the others, that 
 they might be said to be altogether without law; and, 
 although they were nominally subjected to the King of 
 Scotland, yet when he desired to execute any justice in 
 either of these great districts, he could not do so other- 
 wise than by marching there in person, at the head of 
 a strong body of forces, and seizing upon the offenders, 
 and putting them to death with little or no form of trial. 
 Such a rough course of justice, perhaps, made these dis- 
 orderly countries quiet for a short time, but it rendered 
 them still more averse to the royal government in their 
 hearts, and disposed on the slightest occasion to break 
 out, either into disorders among themselves, or into open 
 rebellion. I must give you some more particular account 
 of these wild and uncivilized districts of Scotland, and 
 of the particular sort of people who were their inhabi- 
 tants, that you may know what I mean when I speak of 
 Highlanders and Borderers. 
 
 The Highlands of Scotland, so called from the rocky 
 and mountainous character of the country, consist of a 
 very large proportion of the northern parts of that king- 
 dom. It was into these pathless wildernesses that the 
 Eomans drove the ancient inhabitants of Great Britain; 
 
INTRODUCTION xiu 
 
 and it was from these that they afterward sallied to 
 invade and distress that part of Britain which the Ko- 
 mans had conquered, and in some degree civilized. The 
 inhabitants of the Highlands spoke, and still speak, a. 
 language totally diiferent from the Lowland Scots. 
 That last language does not greatly differ from English, 
 and the inhabitants of both countries easily understand 
 each other, though neither of them comprehend the 
 Gaelic, which is the language of the Highlanders. The 
 dress of these mountaineers was also different from that 
 of the Lowlanders. They wore a plaid, or mantle of 
 frieze, or of a striped stuff called tartan, one end of which 
 being wrapt round the waist, formed a short petti- 
 coat, which descended to the knee, while the rest was 
 folded round them like a sort of cloak. They had 
 buskins made of rawhide; and those who could get a 
 bonnet had that covering for their heads, though many 
 never wore one during their whole lives, but had only 
 their own shaggy hair tied back by a leathern strap. 
 They went always armed, carrying bows and arrows, 
 large swords, which they wielded with both hands, called 
 claymores, poleaxes, and daggers, for close fight. For 
 defense, they had a round wooden shield, or target, stuck 
 full of nails; and their great men had shirts of mail, not 
 unlike the flannel shirts now worn, only composed of 
 links of iron instead of threads of worsted; but the com- 
 mon men wore so far from desiring armor that they 
 sometimes threw their plaids away, and fought in their 
 shirts, which they wore very long and large, after the 
 Irish fashion. 
 
 This part of the Scottish nation was divided into 
 clans, that is, tribes. The persons composing each of 
 these clans believed themselves all to be descended, at 
 some distant period, from the same common ancestor, 
 whose name they usually bore. Thus, one tribe was 
 
Xiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 called MacDonald, which signifies the sons of Donald; 
 another, MacGregor, or the sons of Gregor; MacNeil, the 
 sons of Neil, and so on. Every one of these tribes had 
 its own separate chief, or commander, whom they sup- 
 posed to be the immediate representative of the great 
 father of the tribe from whom they were all descended. 
 To this chief they paid the most unlimited obedience, 
 and willingly followed his commands in peace or war; 
 not caring, although in doing so they transgressed the 
 laws of the King, or went into rebellion against the King 
 himself. Each tribe lived in a valley, or district of the 
 mountains, separated from the others; and they often 
 made war upon, and fought desperately with, each other. 
 But with Lowlanders they were always at war. They dif- 
 fered from them in language, in dress, and in manners; 
 and they believed that the richer grounds of the low 
 country had formerly belonged to their ancestors, and 
 therefore they made incursions upon it, and plundered 
 it without mercy. The Lowlanders, on the other hand, 
 equal in courage, and superior in discipline, gave many 
 severe checks to the Highlanders; and thus there was 
 almost constant war or discord between them, though 
 natives of the same country. 
 
 Some of the most powerful of the Highland chiefs 
 set themselves up as independent sovereigns. Such were 
 the famous Lords of the Isles, called MacDonald, to whom 
 the islands, called the Hebrides, lying on the northwest 
 of Scotland, might be said to belong in property. These 
 petty sovereigns made alliances with the English in their 
 own name. They took the part of Eobert of Bruce in 
 the wars, and joined him with their forces. We shall 
 find that, after his time, they gave great disturbance to 
 Scotland. The Lords of Lorn, MacDougals by name, 
 were also extremely powerful; and were able to give 
 battle to Bruce, and to defeat him; and place him in the 
 
INTRODUCTION XV 
 
 greatest jeopardy. He revenged himself afterward by- 
 driving John of Lorn out of the country, and by giving 
 great part of his possessions to his own nephew, Sir Colin 
 Campbell, who became the first of the great family of 
 Argyll, which afterward enjoyed such power in the 
 Highlands. 
 
 Upon the whole, you can easily understand that these 
 Highland clans, living among such high and inaccessible 
 mountains, and paying obedience to no one save their 
 own chiefs, should have been very instrumental in dis- 
 turbing the tranquillity of the kingdom of Scotland. 
 They had many virtues, being -a kind, brave, and hospi- 
 table people, and remarkable for their fidelity to their 
 chiefs; but they were restless, revengeful, fond of plun- 
 der, and delighting rather in war than in peace, in dis- 
 order than in repose. 
 
 The Border counties were in a state little more fa- 
 vorable to a quiet or peaceful government. In some 
 respects the inhabitants of the counties of Scotland lying 
 opposite to England greatly resembled the Highlanders, 
 and particularly in their being, like them, divided into 
 clans, and having chiefs, whom they obeyed in prefer- 
 ence to the King, or the officers whom he placed among 
 them. How clanship came to prevail in the Highlands 
 and Borders, and not in the provinces which separated 
 the^n from each other, it is not easy to conjecture, but 
 the fact was so. The Borders are not, indeed, so moun- 
 tainous and inaccessible a country as the Highlands; but 
 they also are full of hills, especially on the more western 
 part of the frontier, and were in early times covered 
 with forests, and divided by small rivers and morasses 
 into dales and valleys, where the different clans lived, 
 making war sometimes on the English, sometimes on 
 each other, and sometimes on the more civilized country 
 which lav behind them. 
 
Xvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 But though the Borderers resembled the Highlanders 
 in their mode of government and habits of plundering, 
 and, as it may be truly added, in their disobedience to 
 the general government of Scotland, yet they differed in 
 many particulars. The Highlanders fought always on 
 foot; the Borderers were all horsemen. The Borderers 
 spoke the same language with the Lowlanders, wore the 
 same sort of dress, and carried the same arms. Being 
 accustomed to fight against the English, they were also 
 much better disciplined than the Highlanders. But in 
 point of obedience to the Scottish government they were 
 not much different from the clans of the north. 
 
 Military officers, called Wardens, were appointed 
 along the Borders, to keep these unruly people in order; 
 but as these wardens were generally themselves chiefs 
 of clans, they did not do much to mend the evil. Eobert 
 the Bruce committed great part of the charge of the 
 Borders to the good Lord James of Douglas, who fulfilled 
 his trust with great fidelity. But the power which the 
 family of Douglas thus acquired proved afterward, in the 
 hands of his successors, very dangerous to the crown of 
 Scotland. 
 
 The Highlanders continued to lead this same maraud- 
 ing kind of life, owning no allegiance to any power except 
 that of their chief, until about the year 1745, when 
 Charles Edward, the last of the Stuarts, made a most 
 desperate attempt to regain the throne of his grand- 
 father, James II. 
 
 The Highland clans had remained loyal to the Stu- 
 arts during all their misfortunes, and when this brave 
 young prince, trusting to their fidelity, landed almost 
 alone upon their shores, they flocked to his standard in 
 great numbers. 
 
 They were successful in the earlier engagements, but 
 finally, in the battle of Culloden, were utterly defeated. 
 
INTRODUCTION Xvii 
 
 the bravest of the elans, together with their chiefs, being 
 slain on the field. The government followed up its 
 victory with unrelenting cruelty, slaughtering the fugi- 
 tives, executing the prisoners, and laying waste the coun- 
 try, being determined to crush out the last spark of this 
 power that had for so many centuries disturbed the peace 
 of both kingdoms. 
 
 Fine military roads were built into those inaccessible 
 glens and wild mountains, enabling the government to 
 execute the laws throughout the realm. Severe laws, 
 also, were passed, forbidding the wearing of the plaid, 
 the national costume, and the bearing of arms. 
 
 These measures were entirely successful in breaking 
 down this patriarchal system; and, although they seemed 
 unnecessarily harsh at the time, in the end they proved 
 wise and beneficent. The Highlanders, no longer able 
 to subsist on plundering the Lowlanders, were obliged to 
 turn their attention to some other means of gaining a 
 living. Some emigrated to America, others enlisted in 
 foreign armies, but the great majority settled down to 
 an agricultural life. Mingling together in peaceful pur- 
 suits, the difference between Highlander and Lowlander 
 soon disappeared, and they became one people, prosper- 
 ous and happy. 
 
 James V. (James Fitz-James of the poem) was the 
 son of James the Fourth of Scotland, and Margaret, sis- 
 ter of Henry the Eighth of England. His father lost 
 his life on the battle-field of Flodden, and the son be- 
 came King when but a child of less than two years of 
 age. For a while his mother managed the affairs of the 
 kingdom as regent; but, becoming unpopular, she not 
 only lost the regency, but also the control of her son, 
 who fell into the hands of the powerful family of the 
 Douglases, who, although governing in the name of the 
 young King, nevertheless kept him under such careful 
 
Xviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 guard that the restraint became very irksome to him, 
 and he determined to escape from their power. In two 
 attempts by force he was unsuccessful; but finally, on 
 pretense of going hunting, he escaped from his captivity, 
 and fled into the strong fortress of Stirling Castle, whose 
 governor was friendly to him. Here he assembled around 
 him the numerous nobility favorable to him, and threat- 
 ened to declare a traitor any of the name of Douglas who 
 should approach within twelve miles of his person, or 
 who should attempt to meddle with the administration 
 of the government. He retained, ever after, this im- 
 placable resentment against the Douglases, not permit- 
 ting one of the name to settle in Scotland while he lived. 
 James was especially ungenerous to one Archibald 
 Douglas of Kilspindie, the one mentioned in the poem 
 who had been a favorite of the young King. He was 
 noted for great strength, manly appearance, and skill in 
 all kinds of exercises. When an old man, becoming tired 
 of his exile in England, he resolved to try the King's 
 mercy, thinking that, as he had not personally offended 
 James, he might find favor on account of their old in- 
 timacy. He therefore threw himself in the King's way 
 one day as he returned from hunting in the Park at 
 Stirling. Although it was several years since James had 
 seen him, he knew him at a great distance by his firm 
 and stately step. When they met he showed no sign of 
 recognizing his old servant. Douglas turned, hoping still 
 to obtain a glance of favorable recollection, and ran 
 along by the King's side; and, although James trotted 
 his horse hard, and Douglas wore a heavy shirt of mail, 
 yet he reached the castle gate as soon as the King. 
 James passed by him without the slightest sign of rec- 
 ognition, and entered the castle. Douglas, exhausted, sat 
 down at the gate and asked for a cup of wine; but no 
 domestic dared to offer it. The King, however, blamed 
 
INTRODUCTION XJX 
 
 this discourtesy in his servants, saying that, but for 
 his oath, he would have received Archibald into his 
 service. Yet he sent his command for him to retire 
 to France, where the old man soon died of a broken 
 heart. 
 
 Freed from the stern control of the Douglas family, 
 James V. now began to exercise the government in per- 
 son, and displayed most of the quq,lities of a wise and 
 good prince. He was handsome in his person, and re- 
 sembled his father in the fondness for military exercises, 
 and the spirit of chivalrous honor which James IV. loved 
 to display. He also inherited his father's love of justice, 
 and his desire to establish and enforce wise and equal 
 laws, which should protect the weak against the oppres- 
 sion of the great. It was easy enough to make laws, but 
 to put them in vigorous exercise was of much greater 
 difficulty; and, in his attempt to accomplish this laudable 
 purpose, James often incurred the ill-will of the more 
 powerful nobles. He was a well-educated and accom- 
 plished man, and, like his ancestor, James I., was a poet 
 and musician. He had, however, his defects. He avoid- 
 ed his father's failing of profusion, having no hoarded 
 treasures to employ on pomp and show; but he rather fell 
 into the opposite fault, being of a temper too parsimo- 
 nious; and, though he loved state and display, he en- 
 deavored to gratify that taste as economically as possible, 
 so that he has been censured as rather close and covetous. 
 He was also, though the foibles seem inconsistent, fond 
 of pleasure, and disposed to too much indulgence. It 
 must be added that, when provoked, he was unrelenting 
 even to cruelty; for which he had some apology, consid- 
 ering the ferocity of the subjects over whom he reigned. 
 But, on the whole, James V. was an amiable man and 
 a good sovereign. 
 
 His first care was to bring the Borders of Scotland 
 
XX 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 to some degree of order. As before stated, these were 
 inhabited by tribes of men, forming each a different clan, 
 as they were called, and obeying no orders, save those 
 which were given by their chiefs. These chiefs were 
 supposed to represent the first founder of the name or 
 family. The attachment of the clansmen to the chief 
 was very great; indeed, they paid respect to no one else. 
 In this the Borderers agreed with the Highlanders, as 
 also in their love of plunder and neglect of the general 
 laws of the country. But the Border men wore no 
 tartan dress, and served almost always on horseback, 
 whereas the Highlanders acted always on foot. The 
 Borderers spoke the Scottish language, and not the 
 Gaelic tongue used by the mountaineers. 
 
 The situation of these clans on the frontiers exposed 
 them to constant war; so that they thought of nothing 
 else but of collecting bands of their followers together, 
 and making incursions, without much distinction, on the 
 English, on the Lowland (or inland) Scots, or upon each 
 other. They paid little respect either to times of truce 
 or treaties of peace, but exercised their depredations 
 without regard to either, and often occasioned wars be- 
 twixt England and Scotland which would not otherwise 
 have taken place. 
 
 James's first step was to secure the persons of the 
 principal chieftains by whom these disorders were pri- 
 vately encouraged, and who might have opposed his 
 purposes, and imprison them in separate fortresses. 
 
 He then assembled an army, in which warlike pur- 
 poses were united with those of sylvan sport ; for he 
 ordered all the gentlemen, in the wild districts which he 
 intended to visit, to bring in their best dogs, as if his 
 only purpose had been to hunt the deer in those desolate 
 regions. This was intended to prevent the Borderers 
 from taking the alarm, in which case they would have 
 
INTRODUCTION XXi 
 
 retreated into their mountains and fastnesses, whence it 
 would have been difficult to dislodge them. 
 
 These men had indeed no distinct idea of the offenses 
 which they had committed, and consequently no appre- 
 hension of the King's displeasure against them. The 
 laws had been so long silent in that remote and disorderly 
 country, that the outrages which were practised by the 
 strong against the weak seemed to the perpetrators the 
 natural course of society, and to present nothing that was 
 worthy of punishment. Thus the King suddenly ap- 
 proached the castles of these great lords and barons, 
 while they were preparing a great entertainment to wel- 
 come him, and caused them to be seized and executed. 
 
 There is reason to censure the extent to which James 
 carried his severity, as being to a certain degree impolitic, 
 and beyond doubt cruel and excessive. 
 
 In the like manner, James proceeded against the 
 Highland chiefs; and, by executions, forfeitures, and 
 other severe measures, he brought the northern moun- 
 taineers, as he had already done those of the south, into 
 comparative subjection. 
 
 Such were the effects of the terror struck by these 
 general executions, that James was said to have made 
 "the rush bush keep the cow"; that is to say, that, even 
 in this lawless part of the country, men dared no longer 
 make free with property, and cattle might remain on 
 their pastures unwatched. James was also enabled to 
 draw profit from the lands which the crown possessed 
 near the Borders, and is said to have had ten thousand 
 sheep at one time grazing in Ettrick forest, under the 
 keeping of one Andrew Bell, who gave the King as good 
 an account of the fiock as if they had been grazing in the 
 bounds of Fife, then the most civilized part of Scotland. 
 
 James V. had a custom of going about the country 
 disguised as a private person, in order that he might hear 
 
Xxii INTRODUCTION 
 
 complaints which might not otherwise reach his ears, and 
 perhaps that he might enjoy amusement which he could 
 not have partaken of in his avowed royal character. 
 
 He was also very fond of hunting, and, when he pur- 
 sued that amusement in the Highlands, he used to wear 
 the peculiar dress of that country, having a long and wide 
 Highland shirt, and a jacket of tartan velvet, with plaid 
 hose, and everything else corresponding. 
 
 The reign of James V. was not alone distinguished 
 by his personal adventures and pastimes, but is honorably 
 remembered on account of wise laws made for the gov- 
 ernment of his people, and for restraining the crimes and 
 violence which were frequently practised among them; 
 especially those of assassination, burning of houses, and 
 driving (stealing) of cattle, the usual and ready means 
 by which powerful chiefs avenged themselves on their 
 feudal enemies. 
 
 Had not James become involved in a war with Henry 
 the Eighth of England, he might have been as fortunate 
 a prince as his many good qualities deserved; but, the 
 war going against him, in despair and desolation he shut 
 himself up in his palace, refusing to listen to consolation. 
 A burning fever, the consequence of his grief and shame, 
 seized on the unfortunate monarch. When they brought 
 him tidings that his wife had given birth to a daughter, 
 who afterward became the brilliant, but most unfortu- 
 nate, Mary Queen of Scots, he only replied, " Is it so ? " 
 reflecting on the alliance which had placed the Stuart 
 family on the throne ; " then God's will be done. It 
 came with a lass, and it will go with a lass." With these 
 words, presaging the extinction of his house, he made a 
 signal of adieu to his courtiers, spoke little more, but 
 turned his face to the wall, and, when scarcely thirty-one 
 years old, in the very prime of life, he died of the most 
 melancholy of all diseases, a broken heart. 
 
INTRODUCTION xxiii 
 
 Scott's Domestic Affections 
 
 EXTRACTS from LOCKHART'S LIFE OF SCOTT 
 
 "I am drawing near to the close of my career; I am 
 fast shuffling off the stage. I have been perhaps the most 
 voluminous author of the clay; and it is a comfort to me 
 to think that I have tried to unsettle no man's faith, 
 to corrupt no man's principle." 
 
 In the social relations of life, where men are most 
 effectually tried, no spot can be detected in him. He 
 was a patient, dutiful, reverent son; a generous, compas- 
 sionate, tender husband; an honest, careful, and most 
 affectionate father. Never was a more virtuous or a hap- 
 pier fireside than his. The influence of his mighty 
 genius shadowed it imperceptibly; his calm good sense, 
 and his angelic sweetness of heart and temper, regulated 
 and softened a strict but paternal discipline. His chil- 
 dren, as they grew up, understood by degrees the high 
 privilege of their birth; but their profoundest sense of 
 his greatness never disturbed their confidence in his 
 goodness. 
 
 Perhaps the most touching evidence of the lasting 
 tenderness of his early domestic feelings was exhibited 
 to his executors, when they opened his repositories in 
 search of his testament, the evening after his burial. On 
 lifting up his desk, we found arranged in careful order 
 a series of little objects, which had obviously been so 
 placed there that his eye might rest on them every morn- 
 ing before he began his tasks. These were the old-fash- 
 ioned boxes that had garnished his mother's toilet, when 
 he, a sickly child, slept in her dressing-room; the silver 
 taper-stand which the young advocate had bought for 
 her with his first five-guinea fee; a row of small packets 
 inscribed with her hand, and containing the hair of those 
 
xxiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 of her ofPspring that had died before her; his father's 
 snuff-box and etui-case; and more things of the like sort, 
 recalling the " old familiar faces." The same feeling 
 was apparent in all the arrangement of his private apart- 
 ment. Pictures of his father and mother were the only 
 ones in his dressing-room. The clumsy antique cabinets 
 that stood there, things of a very different class from the 
 beautiful and costly productions in the public rooms 
 below, had all belonged to the furniture of George's 
 Square. Even his father's rickety washing-stand, with 
 all its cramped appurtenances, though exceedingly un- 
 like what a man of his very scrupulous habits would have 
 selected in these days, kept its ground. The whole place 
 seemed fitted up like a little chapel of the Lares. 
 
 Such a son and parent could hardly fail in any of 
 the other social relations. No man was a firmer or more 
 indefatigable friend. I knew not that he ever lost one; 
 and a few, with whom, during the energetic middle 
 stage of life, from political differences or other accidental 
 circumstances, he lived less familiarly, had all gathered 
 round him, and renewed the full warmth of early affec- 
 tion in his later days. There was enough to dignify the 
 connection in their eyes, but nothing to chill it on either 
 side. The imagination that so completely mastered him, 
 when he chose to give her the rein, was kept under most 
 determined control when any of the positive obligations 
 of active life came into question. A high and pure sense 
 of duty presided over whatever he had to do as a citizen 
 and a magistrate; and, as a landlord, he considered his 
 estate as an extension of his hearth. 
 
 But his moral, political, and religious character has 
 sufficiently impressed itself upon the great body of his 
 writings. He is indeed one of the few great authors of 
 modern Europe who stand acquitted of having written a 
 line that ought to have embittered the bed of death. 
 
INTRODUCTION XXV 
 
 His works teacli the practical lessons of moralit}' and 
 Christianity in the most captivating form — unobtrusively 
 and unaffectedly. 
 
 The race that grew up under the influence of that in- 
 tellect can hardly be expected to appreciate fully their 
 own obligations to it; and yet, if we consider what were 
 the tendencies of the minds and works that, but for his, 
 must have been unrivaled in the power and opportunity 
 to mold young ideas, we may picture to ourselves in some 
 measure the magnitude of the debt we owe to a perpetual 
 succession, through thirty years, of publications unap- 
 proached in charm, and all instilling a high and healthy 
 code; a bracing, invigorating spirit; a contempt of mean 
 passions, whether vindictive or voluptuous; humane 
 charity, as distinct from moral laxity as from unsympa- 
 thizing austerity; sagacity too deep for cynicism, and 
 tenderness never degenerating into sentimentality: ani- 
 mated throughout in thought, opinion, feeling, and style, 
 by one and the same pure energetic principle — a pith 
 and savor of manhood; appealing to whatever is good 
 and loyal in our natures, and rebuking whatever is low 
 and selfish. 
 
 I have no doubt that, the more details of his personal 
 history are revealed and studied, the more powerfully will 
 that be found to inculcate the same great lessons with 
 his works. Where else shall we be taught better how 
 prosperity may be extended by beneficence, and adversity 
 confronted by exertion ? Where can we see the " follies 
 of the wise " more strikingly rebuked, and a character 
 more beautifully purified and exalted in the passage 
 through affliction to death? 
 
 Scott's Works 
 
 Scott began his literary career as a writer of ballads. 
 He won considerable reputation by his translations 
 
xxvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 from Biirger and Goethe, and by his Border Ballads. 
 After the ballads came The Lay of the Last Minstrel, in 
 1805; Marmion, in 1808; and The Lady of the Lake, the 
 most popular of all, in 1810. Scott was paid two thou- 
 sand guineas for The Lady of the Lake. Waverley, the first 
 part of the Waverley Novels, appeared in 1814, followed 
 by Guy Mannering in 1815, and others at the rate of 
 nearly two each year. The last two. Count Robert of 
 Paris and Castle Dangerous, did not appear till 1831, the 
 year of Scott's death. 
 
 Some conception of how prolific a writer Scott was 
 may be had from the following table of his works : 
 
 I. Translations, 1796-1800. 
 
 II. Ballads. 
 
 Glenfinlas 1799 Cadyow Castle 1810 
 
 Eve of St. John 1799 English Minstrelsy 1810 
 
 The Grey Brothers 1799 Tlie Battle of Sempach 1818 
 
 Border Minstrelsy 1802-1803 The Noble Moringer 1819 
 
 III. Poems of Romance. 
 
 The Lay of the Last Minstrel 1805 Kokeby 1812 
 
 Marmion 1808 The Bridal of Triermain. . . 1813 
 
 The Lady of the Lake 1810 The Lord of the Isles 1815 
 
 Vision of Don Roderick. ,. . 1811 
 
 IV. Waverley Novels. 
 
 Waverley 1814 Peveril of the Peak 1823 
 
 Guy Mannering 1815 Quentin Durward 1823 
 
 The Antiquary 1816 St. Ronan's Well 1824 
 
 The Black Dwarf 1816 Redgauntlet 1824 
 
 Old Mortality 1816 The Betrothed 1825 
 
 Rob Roy 1818 The Talisman 1825 
 
 The Heart of Mid-Lothian. ,1818 Woodstock 1826 
 
 The Bride of Lammermoor. 1819 The Two Drovers 1827 
 
 The Legend of Montrose. . . 1819 Tlie Highland AVidow 1827 
 
 Ivanhoe 1820 Tlie Surgeon's Daughter. . . 1827 
 
 The Monastery 1820 The Fair Maid of Perth 1828 
 
 The Abbot 1820 Anne of Geierstein 1829 
 
 Kenilworth 1821 Count Robert of Paris 1831 
 
 The Pirate 1822 Castle Dangerous 1831 
 
 The Fortunes of Nigel 1822 
 
INTRODUCTION XXvii 
 
 Books for Reference 
 
 Lockhart's Life of Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 Hutton' s Life of Sir Walter Scott ) „ , j • n -j 
 
 Minto-s Life of Sir Walter Scott \ EncyclopcBdia Britmimca. 
 
 Jeffrey's Contributions to the Edinburgh Review. 
 Leslie Stephen's Hours in a Library (First Series). 
 Essays by Carlyle, Hazlitt, Douglas Jerrold, and W. H. Prescott. 
 Mrs. Oliphant's Literary History of England in the Eighteenth 
 and Nineteenth Centuries. 
 
 Hunnewell's Lands of Scott. 
 
 Howitt's Homes and Haunts of the British Poets. 
 
 Washington Irving's Visit to Abbotsford. 
 
 C. R. Leslie's Autobiographical Recollections. 
 
 Wordsworth's Yarrow Revisited. 
 
 Ruskin's Modern Painters, Vol. III. 
 
 Bagehot's Literary Studies., Vol. II. 
 
 Hogg's Familiar Anecdotes. 
 
 Jerdan's Men I Have Known. 
 
 Phillips's Popular Manual of English Literature. 
 
 Pancoast's Representative English Literature. 
 
 Painter's Introduction to English Literature. 
 
 Parson's English Versification. 
 
 The Outline of the Story 
 
 The first canto begins with a description of a stag-hunt 
 in the Highlands of Perthshire. As the chase lengthens, 
 the sportsmen drop off; till at last the foremost horse- 
 man is left alone; and his horse, overcome with fatigue, 
 stumbles and dies. The adventurer, climbing up a craggy 
 eminence, discovers Loch Katrine spread out in evening 
 glory before him. The huntsman winds his horn; and 
 sees, to his infinite surprise, a little skiff, guided by a 
 lovely woman, glide from beneath the trees that over- 
 hang the water, and approach the shore at his feet. 
 Upon the stranger's approach, she pushes the shallop 
 from the shore in alarm. After a short parley, however. 
 
xxviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 she carries him to a woody island, where she leads him 
 into a sort of sylvan mansion, rudely constructed, and 
 hung round with trophies of war and the chase. An el- 
 derly lady is introduced at supper; and the stranger, after 
 disclosing himself to be "James Fitz-James, the knight 
 of Snowdoun," tries in vain to discover the name and 
 history of the ladies. 
 
 The second canto opens with a picture of the aged 
 harper, Allan-bane, sitting on the island beach with the 
 damsel, watching the skiff which carries the stranger back 
 to land. A conversation ensues, from which the reader 
 gathers that the lady is a daughter of the Douglas, who, 
 being exiled by royal displeasure from court, had ac- 
 cepted this asylum from Sir Eoderick Dhu, a Highland 
 chieftain long outlawed for deeds of blood; that this dark 
 chief is in love with his fair protegee, but that her affec- 
 tions are engaged to Malcolm Graeme, a younger and more 
 amiable mountaineer. The sound of distant music is 
 heard on the lake; and the barges of Sir Eoderick Dhu 
 are discovered, proceeding in triumph to the island. 
 Ellen, hearing her father's horn at that instant on the 
 opposite shore, flies to meet him and Malcolm Graeme, 
 who is received with cold and stately civility by the lord 
 of the isle. Sir Eoderick informs the Douglas that his 
 retreat has been discovered, and that the King (James 
 V.) under pretense of hunting, has assembled a large 
 force in the neighborhood. He then proposes impetu- 
 ously that they should unite their fortunes by his mar- 
 riage with Ellen, and rouse the whole Western High- 
 lands. The Douglas, intimating that his daughter has 
 repugnances which she cannot overcome, declares that he 
 will retire to a cave in the neighboring mountains until 
 the issue of the King's threat is seen. The heart of Eod- 
 erick is wrung with agony at this rejection; and when 
 ]\[alcolm advances to Ellen, he pushes him violently 
 
INTRODUCTION xxix 
 
 back — and a scuffle ensues, which is with difficulty ap- 
 peased by the giant arm of Douglas. Malcolm then with- 
 draws in proud resentment, plunges into the water, and 
 swims over by moonlight to the mainland. 
 
 The third canto opens with an account of the cere- 
 monies employed in summoning the clan. This is accom- 
 plished by the consecration of a small wooden cross, 
 which, with its points scorched and dipped in blood, is 
 carried with incredible celerity through the whole terri- 
 tory of the chieftain. The eager fidelity with which this 
 fatal signal is carried on, is represented with great spirit. 
 A youth starts from the side of his father's coffin, to 
 bear it forward, and, having run his stage, delivers it to 
 a young bridegroom returning from church, who instantly 
 binds his plaid around him, and rushes onward. In the 
 meantime Douglas and his daughter have taken refuge 
 in the mountain cave; and Sir Roderick, passing near 
 their retreat on his way to the muster, hears Ellen's 
 voice singing her evening hymn to the Virgin. He does 
 not obtrude on her devotions, but hurries to the place 
 of rendezvous. 
 
 The fourth canto begins with some ceremonies by a 
 wild hermit of the clan, to ascertain the issue of the 
 impending war; and this oracle is obtained — that the 
 party shall prevail which first sheds the blood of its ad- 
 versary. The scene then shifts to the retreat of the 
 Douglas, where the minstrel is trying to soothe Ellen in 
 her alarm at the disappearance of her father, by singing 
 a fairy ballad to her. As the song ends, the knight of 
 Snowdoun suddenly appears before her, declares his love, 
 and urges her to put herself under his protection. Ellen 
 throws , herself on his generosity, confesses her attach- 
 ment to Graeme, and prevails on him to seek his own 
 safety by a speedy retreat from the territory of Roderick 
 Dhu, Before he goes, the stranger presents her with a 
 
XXX INTRODUCTION 
 
 ring, which he says he has received from King James, 
 with a promise to grant any boon asked by the person 
 producing it. As he retreats, his suspicions are excited 
 by the conduct of his guide, and confirmed by the warn- 
 ing of a mad woman whom they encounter. His false 
 guide discharges an arrow at him, which kills the maniac. 
 The knight slays the murderer; and learning from the 
 expiring victim that her brain had been turned by the 
 cruelty of Sir Roderick Dhu, he vows vengeance. When 
 chilled with the midnight cold and exhausted with fa- 
 tigue, he suddenly comes upon a chief reposing by a 
 lonely watch-fire; and being challenged in the name of 
 Roderick Dhu, boldly avows himself his enemy. The 
 clansman, however, disdains to take advantage of a worn- 
 out wanderer, and pledges him safe escort out of Sir 
 Roderick's territory, when he must answer his defiance 
 with his sword. The stranger accepts these chivalrous 
 terms, and the warriors sup and sleep together. This 
 ends the fourth canto. 
 
 At dawn, the knight and the mountaineer proceed 
 toward the Lowland frontier. A dispute arises concern- 
 ing the character of Roderick Dhu, and the knight ex- 
 presses his desire to meet in person and do vengeance 
 upon the predatory chief. " Have then thy wish ! '' an- 
 swers his guide; and gives a loud whistle. A whole 
 legion of armed men start up from the mountain ambush 
 in the heath; while the chief turns proudly and says, "I 
 am Roderick Dhu ! " Sir Roderick then by a signal dis- 
 misses his men to their concealment. Arrived at his 
 frontier, the chief forces the knight to stand upon his 
 defense. Roderick, after a hard combat is laid wounded 
 on the ground ; Fitz-James, sounding his bugle, brings 
 four squires to his side; and, after giving the wounded 
 chief into their charge, gallops rapidly on toward Stirling. 
 As he ascends the hill to the castle, he descries approach- 
 
INTRODUCTION XXXi 
 
 ing the same place the giant form of Douglas, who has 
 come to deliver himself up to the King, in order to save 
 Malcolm Graeme and Sir Roderick from the impending 
 danger. Before entering the castle, Douglas is seized 
 with the whim to engage in the holiday sports which are 
 going forward outside; he wins prize after prize, and re- 
 ceives his reward from the hand of the Prince, who, 
 however, does not condescend to recognize his former 
 favorite. Roused at last by an insult from one of the 
 royal grooms, Douglas proclaims himself, and is ordered 
 into custody by the King. At this instant a messenger 
 arrives with tidings of an approaching battle between 
 the clan of Roderick and the King's lieutenant, the Earl 
 of Mar; and is ordered back to prevent the conflict, by 
 announcing that Sir Roderick and Lord Douglas are in 
 the hands of their sovereign. 
 
 The last canto opens in the guard-room of the royal 
 castle at Stirling, at dawn. While the mercenaries are 
 quarreling and singing at the close of a night of debauch, 
 the sentinels introduce Ellen and the minstrel Allan- 
 bane — who are come in search of Douglas. Ellen awes 
 the ruffian soldiery by her grace and liberality, and is at 
 length conducted to a more seemly waiting-place, until 
 she may obtain audience with the King. While Allan- 
 bane, in the cell of Sir Roderick, sings to the dying chief- 
 tain of the glorious battle which has just been waged by 
 his clansmen against the forces of the Earl of Mar, Ellen, 
 in another part of the palace, hears the voice of Malcolm 
 Graeme lamenting his captivity from an adjoining: tur- 
 ret. Before she recovers from her agitation, she is 
 startled by the ar»T>earance of Fitz- James, who comes to 
 inform her that the court is assembled, and the King at 
 leisure to receive her suit. He conducts her to the hall 
 of presence, round which Ellen casts a timid and eager 
 glance for the monarch. But all the glittering figures 
 3 
 J 
 
XXXii INTRODUCTION 
 
 are uncovered, and James Fitz-James alone wears his cap 
 and plume! The Knight of Snowdoun is the King of 
 Scotland! Struck with awe and terror, Ellen falls 
 speechless at his feet, pointing to the ring which he has 
 put upon her finger. The Prince raises her with eager 
 kindness, declares that her father is forgiven, and bids 
 her ask a boon for some other person. The name of 
 Graeme trembles on her lips, but she cannot trust her- 
 self to utter it. The King, in playful vengeance, con- 
 demns Malcolm Graeme to fetters, takes a chain of gold 
 from his own neck, and throwing it over that of the 
 young chief, puts the clasp in the hand of Ellen. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 A POEM 
 
 IN SIX CANTOS 
 
AEGUMENT 
 
 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 
 
 THE CHASE 
 
 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 ? 
 
2 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, lo 
 
 Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd, 
 When lay of hopeless love, or glory won, 
 
 Aroused the fearful or subdued the proud. 
 At each according pause was heard aloud 
 
 Thine ardent symphony sublime and high! 
 Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed; 
 
 For still the burden of thy minstrelsy 
 Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's match- 
 less eye. 
 
 0, wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand 
 
 That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray; a 
 
 0, 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 unworthy of thy nobler strain, 
 Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, 
 
 The wizard note has not been touched in vain. 
 Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again ! 
 
 The stag at eve had drunk his fill. 
 
 Where danced the moon on Monan's rill. 
 
 And deep his midnight lair had made so- 
 
 In lone Glenartney's hazel shade; 
 
 But when the sun his beacon red 
 
 Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head. 
 
 The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay 
 
 Eesounded up the rocky way. 
 
 And faint, from farther distance borne. 
 
 Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 
 
CANTO FIRST 
 
 n 
 
 As Chief, who hears his warder call, 
 " To arms ! the f oemen storm the wall," 
 
 40 The antlered 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 
 
 Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky; 
 
 A moment gazed adown the dale, 
 
 A moment snuffed the tainted gale, 
 
 A moment listened to the cry. 
 
 That thickened as the chase drew nigh; 
 
 60 Then, as the headmost foes appeared, 
 
 With one brave bound the copse he cleared. 
 And, stretching forward free and far. 
 Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Yelled on the view the opening pack; 
 Eock, glen, and cavern paid them back; 
 To many a mingled sound at once 
 The awakened mountain gave response. 
 A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong. 
 Clattered a hundred steeds along, 
 60 Their peal the merry horns rung out, 
 A hundred voices joined 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 cowered the doe, 
 The falcon, from her cairn on high. 
 Cast on the rout a wondering eye. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Till far beyond her piercing ken 
 
 The hurricane had swept the glen. 
 
 Faint, and more faint, its failing din ™ 
 
 Eeturned from cavern, cliff, and linn. 
 
 And silence settled, wide and still, 
 
 On the lone wood and mighty hill. 
 
 IV 
 
 Less loud the sounds of sylvan war 
 
 Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 
 
 And roused the cavern where, 't is 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, stayed perforce, 80 
 
 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. 
 
 The noble stag was pausing now 
 
 Upon the mountain's southern brow, 
 
 Where broad extended, far beneath. 
 
 The varied realms of fair Menteith. 
 
 With anxious eye he wandered o'er so 
 
 Mountain and meadow, moss and moor. 
 
 And pondered refuge from his toil, 
 
 By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 
 
 But nearer was the copsewood gray 
 
 That waved and wept on Loch Achray, 
 
 And mingled with the pine-trees blue 
 
 On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. 
 
CANTO FIRST 
 
 Fresh vigor with the hope returned, 
 With flying foot the heath he spurned, 
 K'O Held westward with unwearied race, 
 And left behind the panting chase. 
 
 VI 
 
 'T were long to tell what steeds gave o'er, 
 As swept the hunt through Cambusmore; 
 What reins were tightened in despair, 
 When rose Benledi's ridge in air; 
 Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath, 
 Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith, — 
 For twice that day, from shore to shore. 
 The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. 
 110 Few were the stragglers, following far, 
 That reached the lake of Vennachar; 
 And when the Brigg of Turk was won. 
 The headmost horseman rode alone. 
 
 VII 
 
 Alone, but with unbated zeal, 
 That horseman plied the scourge and steel; 
 For jaded now, and spent with toil, 
 Embossed with foam, and dark with soil, 
 While every gasp with sobs he drew. 
 The laboring stag strained full in view. 
 120 Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed. 
 
 Unmatched 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 toiled the bloodhounds stanch; 
 Nor nearer might the dogs attain, 
 Nor farther might the quarry strain. 
 4 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Thus up the margin of the lake. 
 
 Between the precipice and brake. 
 
 O'er stock and rock their race they take. ^^o 
 
 VIII 
 
 The Hunter marked that mountain high. 
 
 The lone lake's western boundary. 
 
 And deemed the stag must turn to bay, 
 
 Where that huge rampart barred the way; 
 
 Already glorying in the prize. 
 
 Measured his antlers with his eyes; 
 
 For the death-wound and death-halloo 
 
 Mustered his breath, his whinyard drew: — 
 
 But thundering as he came prepared, 
 
 With ready arm and weapon bared, MO 
 
 The wily quarry shunned the shock. 
 
 And turned him from the opposing rock; 
 
 Then, dashing down a darksome glen. 
 
 Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken. 
 
 In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 
 
 His solitary refuge took. 
 
 There, while close couched the thicket shed 
 
 Cold dews and wild flowers on his head. 
 
 He heard the baffled dogs in vain 
 
 Eave through the hollow pass amain, uo 
 
 Chiding the rocks that yelled again. 
 
 IX 
 
 Close on the hounds the Hunter came. 
 To cheer them on the vanished 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. 
 
CANTO FIRST 
 
 For the good steed, his labors o'er, 
 Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more; 
 160 Then, touched with pity and remorse. 
 He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse. 
 " I little thought, when first thy rein 
 I slacked upon the banks of Seine, 
 That Highland eagle e'er should feed 
 On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! 
 Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, 
 That costs thy life, my gallant gray ! " 
 
 X 
 
 Then through the dell his horn resounds, 
 From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 
 
 iTO Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, 
 The sulky leaders of the chase; 
 Close to their master's side they pressed, 
 With drooping tail and humbled crest; 
 But still the dingle's hollow throat 
 Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. 
 The owlets started from their dream. 
 The eagles answered with their scream. 
 Round and around the sounds were cast. 
 Till echo seemed an answering blast; 
 
 180 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 showed. 
 
 XI 
 
 The western waves of ebbing day 
 Eolled o'er the glen their level way; 
 Each purple peak, each flinty spire. 
 Was bathed in floods of living fire. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 But not a setting beam could glow 
 
 Within the dark ravines below, 
 
 Where twined the path in shadow hid, 190 
 
 Bound many a rocky pyramid, 
 
 Shooting abruptly from the dell 
 
 Its thunder-splintered pinnacle; 
 
 Eound 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, 
 
 Formed turret, dome, or battlement. 
 
 Or seemed fantastically set 28^ 
 
 With cupola or minaret. 
 
 Wild crests as pagod ever decked. 
 
 Or mosque of Eastern architect. 
 
 Nor were these earth-born castles bare. 
 
 Nor lacked they many a banner fair; 
 
 For, from their shivered brows displayed. 
 
 Far o'er the unfathomable glade, 
 
 All twinkling with the dewdrop sheen. 
 
 The brier-rose fell in streamers green. 
 
 And creeping shrubs of thousand dyes 810 
 
 Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. 
 
 XII 
 
 Boon nature scattered, free and wild, 
 Each plant or flower, the mountain's child- 
 Here eglantine embalmed the air. 
 Hawthorn and hazel mingled there; 
 The primrose pale and violet flower 
 Found in each clift a narrow bower; 
 Foxglove and nightshade, side by side. 
 Emblems of punishment and pride, 
 
CANTO FIRST 
 
 220 Grouped 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 warrior oak 
 Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; 
 And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 
 His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, 
 Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high, 
 His boughs athwart the narrowed sky. 
 
 230 Highest of all, where white peaks glanced. 
 
 Where glistening: 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 dream. 
 
 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. 
 
 240 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 strayed, 
 Still broader sweep its channels made. 
 The shaggy mounds no longer stood, 
 Emerging from entangled wood, 
 But, wave-encircled, seemed to float, 
 Like castle girdled with its moat; 
 
 ggg Yet broader floods extending still 
 Divide them from their parent hill, 
 
10 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Till each, retiring, claims to be 
 An islet in an inland sea. 
 
 XIV 
 
 And now, to issiie 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, sco 
 
 Where, gleaming with the setting sun, 
 
 One burnished sheet of living gold. 
 
 Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled. 
 
 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 Benvenue 270 
 
 Down to the lake in masses threw 
 
 Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled. 
 
 The fragments of an earlier world; 
 
 A wildering forest feathered o'er 
 
 His ruined sides and summit hoar, 
 
 While on the north, through middle air, 
 
 Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. 
 
 XV 
 
 From the steep promontory gazed 
 The stranger, raptured and amazed. 
 
CANTO FIRST 11 
 
 280 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! 
 
 How sweet at eve the lover's lute 
 
 Chime when the groves were still and mute! 
 290 And when the midnight moon should lave 
 
 Her forehead in the silver wave, 
 
 How solemn on the ear would come 
 
 The holy matins' distant hum. 
 
 While 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 bewildered stranger call 
 300 To friendly feast and lighted hall. 
 
 XVI 
 
 " 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 greenwood spent 
 310 Were but to-morrow's merriment: 
 
12 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 But hosts may in these wilds abound, 
 Such as are better missed than found; 
 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 falchion has been tried." 
 
 XVII 
 
 But scarce again his horn he wound. 
 
 When lo! forth starting at the sound, 320 
 
 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 promontory steep 
 
 Led its deep line in graceful sweep. 
 
 Eddying, in almost viewless wave. 
 
 The weeping willow twig to lave. 
 
 And kiss, with whispering sound and slow. 
 
 The beach of pebbles bright as snow. S30 
 
 The boat had touched this silver strand 
 
 Just as the Hunter left his stand, 
 
 And stood concealed amid the brake. 
 
 To view this Lady of the Lake. 
 
 The maiden paused, as if again 
 
 She thought to catch the distant strain. 
 
 With head upraised, and look intent. 
 
 An eye and ear attentive bent, 
 
 And locks flung back, and lips apart. 
 
 Like monument of Grecian art, 840 
 
 In listening mood, she seemed to stand, 
 
 The guardian Naiad of the strand. 
 
CANTO FIRST 13 
 
 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, 
 
 350 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 trained her pace, — 
 A foot more light, a step more true, 
 Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew; 
 E'en the slight harebell raised its head. 
 Elastic from her airy tread: 
 What though upon her speech there hung 
 The accents of the mountain tongue, — 
 
 360 Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, 
 The listener held his breath to hear! 
 
 XIX 
 
 A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid; 
 Her satin snood, her silken plaid. 
 Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed. 
 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 
 370 Mantled a plaid with modest care, 
 
 And never brooch the folds combined 
 Above a heart more good and kind. 
 
14 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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 confessed 
 
 The guileless movements of her breast; 
 
 Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 
 
 Or woe or pity claimed a sigh, '^o 
 
 Or filial love was glowing there. 
 
 Or meek devotion poured a prayer. 
 
 Or tale of injury called forth 
 
 The indignant spirit of the North. 
 
 One only passion unrevealed 
 
 With maiden pride the maid concealed. 
 
 Yet not less purely felt the flame; — 
 
 0, need I tell that passion's name ? 
 
 XX 
 
 Impatient of the silent horn. 
 
 Now on the gale her voice was borne: — 890 
 
 " 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 uttered fell. 
 
 The echoes could not catch the swell. 
 
 " A stranger I," the Huntsman said. 
 
 Advancing from the hazel shade. 
 
 The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar 
 
 Pushed her light shallop from the shore, 40o 
 
 And when a space was gained between, 
 
 Closer she drew her bosom's screen; — 
 
 So forth the startled swan would swings 
 
 So turn to prune his ruffled wing. 
 
CANTO FIRST 15 
 
 Then safe, though fluttered and amazed. 
 She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 
 Not his the form, nor his the eye. 
 That youthful maidens wont to fly. 
 
 XXI 
 
 On his bold visage middle age 
 
 Had slightly pressed its signet sage, 
 
 Yet had not quenched 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 were cast in manly mould 
 
 For hardy sports or contest bold; 
 
 And though in peaceful garb arrayed. 
 
 And weaponless except his blade, 
 
 His stately mien as well implied 
 
 A high-born heart, a martial pride. 
 
 As if a baron's crest he v/ore. 
 
 And sheathed in armor trode the shore. 
 
 Slighting the petty need he showed. 
 
 He told of his benighted road; 
 
 His ready speech flowed fair and free. 
 
 In phrase of gentlest courtesy. 
 
 Yet seemed that tone and gesture bland 
 
 Less used to sue than to command. 
 
 XXII 
 
 Awhile the maid the stranger eyed. 
 And, reassured, at length replied. 
 That Highland halls were open still 
 To wildered wanderers of the hill. 
 
16 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 " Nor think you unexpected come 
 
 To yon lone isle, our desert home; 
 
 Before the heath had lost the dew, 
 
 This morn, a couch was pulled for you; 
 
 On yonder mountain's purple head 
 
 Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, 440 
 
 And our broad nets have swept the mere, 
 
 To furnish forth your evening cheer." — 
 
 " Now, by the rood, my lovely maid. 
 
 Your courtesy has erred," 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, 460 
 
 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 approached the side, — 
 
 " I well believe, that ne'er before 
 
 Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore; 
 
 But yet, as far as yesternight. 
 
 Old Allan-bane foretold your plight, — 
 
 A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent 
 
 Was on the visioned future bent, 4eo 
 
 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 tasselled horn so gayly gilt. 
 
 That falchion's crooked blade and hilt. 
 
CANTO FIRST 17 
 
 That cap with heron plumage trim, 
 And yon two hounds so dark and grim. 
 He bade that all should ready be 
 470 To grace a guest of fair degree; 
 But light I held his prophecy, 
 And deemed 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, 
 Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold, 
 I '11 lightly front each high emprise 
 For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 
 
 480 Permit me first the task to guide 
 Your fairy frigate o'er the tide." 
 The maid, with smile suppressed and sly, 
 The toil unwonted saw him try; 
 For seldom, sure, if e'er before, 
 His noble hand had grasped 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. 
 
 490 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 viewed the shore around; 
 'T was all so close with copsewood bound. 
 
18 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Nor track nor pathway might declare 
 
 That human foot frequented there, 
 
 Until the mountain maiden showed 
 
 A clambering unsuspected road, 
 
 That winded through the tangled screen, wo 
 
 And opened 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, 51c 
 
 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 overhead 
 
 Their slender length for rafters spread, 
 
 And withered heath and rushes dry 
 
 Supplied a russet canopy. 
 
 Due westward, fronting to the green, 58C 
 
 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 Ida^an vine. 
 
 The clematis, the favored flower 
 
 Which boasts the name of virgin-bower. 
 
CANTO FIRST 19 
 
 Aird every hardy plant could bear 
 Loch Katrine's keen and searching air. 
 An instant in this porch she stayed, 
 And gayly to the stranger said: 
 " 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 crossed the threshold, — and a clang 
 
 Of angry steel that instant rang. 
 
 To his bold brow his spirit rushed. 
 
 But soon for vain alarm he blushed. 
 
 When on the floor he saw displayed, 
 
 Cause of the din, a naked blade 
 
 Dropped 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 broadswords, bows, and arrows store. 
 
 With the tusked 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 stained. 
 
 That blackening streaks of blood retained. 
 
 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. 
 
20 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 The wondering stranger round him gazed, 66o 
 
 And next the fallen weapon raised : — 
 
 Few were the arms whose sinewy strength 
 
 Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. 
 
 And as the brand he poised and swayed, 
 
 " I never knew but one," he said, 
 
 " Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield 
 
 A blade like this in battle-field." 
 
 She sighed, then smiled and took the word : 
 
 " You see the guardian champion's sword ; 
 
 As light it trembles in his hand 6TO 
 
 As in 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, 
 
 Whose easy step and stately port 
 
 Had well become a princely court. 
 
 To whom, though more than kindred knew, seo 
 
 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 unasked 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 
 
 Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er. 
 
 At length his rank the stranger names, em 
 
CANTO FIRST 21 
 
 " The Kright of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James; 
 
 Lord of a barren heritage, 
 
 Which 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 train 
 
 He chased a stalwart stag in vain, 
 
 Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer. 
 
 Lost his good steed, and wandered here." 
 
 XXX 
 
 Fain would the Knight in turn require 
 The name and state of Ellen's sire. 
 Well showed the elder lady's mien 
 That courts and cities she had seen; 
 Ellen, though more her looks displayed 
 The simple grace of sylvan maid, 
 In speech and gesture, form and face. 
 Showed she was come of gentle race. 
 'T were 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, 
 Turned all inquiry light away: — 
 " Weird 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, 
 T is thus our charmed rhymes we sing.'* 
 She sung, and still a harp unseen 
 Filled up the symphony between. 
 
22 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, 680 
 
 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, 
 
 Armor's clang or war-steed champing, 
 Trump nor pibroch summon here 
 
 Mustering clan or squadron tramping. 
 Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 640 
 
 At the daybreak from the fallow, 
 And the bittern sound his drum. 
 
 Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
 Euder sounds shall none be near. 
 Guards nor warders challenge here. 
 Here '& no war-steed's neigh and champing. 
 Shouting clans or squadrons stamping." 
 
 XXXII 
 
 She paused, — then, blushing, led the lay. 
 
 To grace the stranger of the day. 
 
 Her mellow notes awhile prolong 650 
 
 The cadence of the flowing song. 
 
 Till to her lips in measured frame 
 
 The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 
 
CANTO FIRST 23 
 
 SONG CONTINUED 
 
 " Huntsman, rest I thy chase is done ; 
 
 While our slumbrous spells assail ye. 
 Dream not, with the rising sun, 
 
 Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
 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 reveille." 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 The hall was cleared, — the stranger's bed, 
 Was there of mountain heather spread, 
 Where oft a hundred guests had lain. 
 And dreamed their forest sports again. 
 But vainly did the heath-flower shed 
 Its moorland fragrance round his head; 
 Not Ellen's spell had lulled 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 honor 's lost. 
 Then, — from my couch may heavenly might 
 Chase that worst phantom of the night! — 
 Again returned the scenes of youth, 
 Of confident, undoubting truth; 
 
690 
 
 24 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Dreamed he of death or broken vow, , 
 
 Or is it all a vision now ? 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 At length, with Ellen in a grove 
 
 He seemed to walk and speak of love; 
 
 She listened 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, roo 
 
 Upon its head a helmet shone; 
 
 Slowly enlarged to giant size. 
 
 With darkened cheek and threatening eyes. 
 
 The grisly visage, stern and hoar. 
 
 To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 
 
 He woke, and, panting with affright. 
 
 Recalled the vision of the night. 
 
 The hearth's decaying brands were red. 
 
 And deep and dusky lustre shed, 
 
 Half showing, half concealing, all 7io 
 
 The uncouth trophies of the hall. 
 
 Mid those the stranger fixed his eye 
 
 Where that huge falchion hung on high, 
 
 And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, 
 
 Bushed, chasing countless thoughts along. 
 
CANTO FIRST 25 
 
 Until, the giddy whirl to cure, 
 
 He rose and sought the moonshine pure. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 The wild rose, eglantine, and broom 
 
 Wasted around their rich perfume; 
 720 The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm; 
 
 The aspens slept beneath the calm; 
 
 The silver light, with quivering glance, 
 
 Played 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 ? 
 730 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 fevered dream, 
 
 But still the Douglas is the theme? 
 
 I '11 dream no more, — by manly mind 
 
 Not even in sleep is will resigned. 
 
 My midnight orisons said o'er, 
 
 I '11 turn to rest, and dream no more." 
 740 His midnight orisons he told, 
 
 A prayer with every bead of gold. 
 
 Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, 
 
 And sunk in undisturbed repose, 
 
 Until the heath-cock shrilly crew. 
 
 And morning dawned on Benvenue. 
 
CAKTO SECOND 
 
 THE ISLAND 
 
 At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 
 
 'T is morning prompts the linnet's 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 was heard thy strain, 
 Mixed with the sounding harp, white-haired Allan- 
 bane! 
 
10 
 
 20 
 
 CANTO SECOND 27 
 
 II 
 
 SONG 
 
 " Not faster yonder rowers' might 
 Flings from their oars the spray, 
 
 Not faster yonder rippling bright, 
 
 That tracks the shallop's course in light. 
 Melts in the lake away, 
 
 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 honored 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! 
 
 Ill 
 
 SONG CONTINUED 
 
 " But if beneath yon southern sky 
 A plaided stranger roam, 
 30 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 woe; 
 Eemember then thy hap erewhile, 
 A stranger in the lonely isle. 
 
28 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 " Or if on life's uncertain main 
 
 Mishap shall mar thy sail; 
 If faithful, wise, and brave in vain, 
 Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 40 
 
 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." 
 
 IV 
 
 As died the sounds upon the tide, 
 
 The shallop reached the mainland side. 
 
 And ere his onward way he took. 
 
 The stranger cast a lingering look, w 
 
 Where easily his eye might reach 
 
 The Harper on the islet beach, 
 
 Eeclined 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. 
 
 Seemed watching the awakening fire; 
 
 So still he sat as those who wait fio 
 
 Till judgment speak the doom of fate; 
 
 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 sat and smiled. — 
 
CANTO SECOND 29 
 
 Smiled she to see the stately drake 
 Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, 
 While her vexed spaniel from the beach 
 Bayed at the prize beyond his reach ? 
 Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows. 
 Why deepened 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 loitered on the spot, 
 It seemed as Ellen marked him not; 
 But when he turned 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, 
 Watched 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!'* 
 'T was thus upbraiding conscience said, — 
 5 
 
30 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 " Not so had Malcolm idly hung lOO 
 
 On the smooth phrase of Southern tongue; 
 
 Not so had Malcolm strained 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 '11 give thy harp heroic theme. 
 
 And warm thee with a noble name; 
 
 Pour forth the glory of the Gramme! " 
 
 Scarce from her lip the word had rushed, iio 
 
 When deep the conscious maiden blushed; 
 
 For of his clan, in hall and bower, 
 
 Young Malcolm Gramme 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 bidst, noble maid," 
 
 Clasping his withered hands, he said, 
 
 " Vainly thou bidst me wake the strain, 120 
 
 Though all unwont to bid in vain. 
 
 Alas ! than mine a mightier hand 
 
 Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned! 
 
 I touch the chords of joy, but low 
 
 And mournful answer notes of woe; 
 
 And the proud march which victors tread 
 
 Sinks in the wailing for the dead. 
 
 0, well for me, if mine alone 
 
 That dirge's deep prophetic tone! 
 
 If, as my tuneful fathers said, 130 
 
 This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed, 
 
CANTO SECOND 31 
 
 Can thus its master's fate foretell, 
 Then welcome be the minstrel's knell! 
 
 VIII 
 
 " But ah ! dear lady, thus it sighed. 
 
 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, 
 
 Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall. 
 
 Ere Douglases, to ruin driven. 
 
 Were exiled from their native heaven. — 
 
 ! if yet worse mishap and woe 
 
 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 woe. 
 
 Then shivered shall thy fragments lie, 
 
 Thy master cast him down and die ! " 
 
 IX 
 
 Soothing she answered him: "Assuage, 
 Mine honored friend, the fears of age; 
 All melodies to thee are known 
 That harp has rung or pipe has blown. 
 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. 
 
32 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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 resigned 
 
 Than yonder oak might give the wind; 
 
 The graceful foliage storms may reave, I'O 
 
 The noble stem they cannot grieve. 
 
 For me " — she stooped, and, looking round, 
 
 Plucked a blue harebell 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, iso 
 
 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. 
 
 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 woe. 
 
 He gazed, till fond regret and pride 
 
 Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied : 190 
 
 " Loveliest and best! thou little know'st 
 
 The rank, the honors, thou hast lost! 
 
 0, might I live to see thee grace. 
 
 In Scotland's court, thy birthright place. 
 
2UU 
 
 CANTO SECOND 33 
 
 To see my favorite'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!" 
 
 XI 
 
 " Fair dreams are these," the maiden cried, — • 
 
 Light vi'as her accent, yet she sighed, — 
 
 " 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, 
 
 Nor half so pleased mine ear incline 
 
 To royal minstrel's lay as thine. 
 
 And then for suitors proud and high, 
 
 To bend before my conquering eye, — 
 
 Thou, flattering bard! thyself wilt say. 
 
 That grim Sir Eoderick 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 her glee repressed: 
 "111 hast thou chosen theme for jest! 
 For who, through all this western wild, 
 Named Black Sir Eoderick e'er, and smiled? 
 In Holy-Kood 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 outlawed, hath his hand 
 Full sternly kept his mountain land. 
 
34 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Who else dared give — ah ! woe the day, 
 
 That I siich hated truth should say! — 
 
 The Douglas, like a stricken deer. 
 
 Disowned by every noble peer, 230 
 
 Even the rude refuge we have here? 
 
 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; 240 
 
 And though to Roderick thou 'rt so dear 
 
 That thou mightst 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, 250 
 
 Since first an orphan in the wild 
 
 She sorrowed 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, 
 
 Allan! Sir Roderick should command 
 
 My blood, my life, — but not my hand. 
 
CANTO SECOND 35 
 
 Eather will Ellen Douglas dwell 
 260 A votaress in Maronnan's cell; 
 
 Eather 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 shak'st, good friend, thy tresses gray, — 
 
 That pleading look, what can it say 
 
 But what I own? — I grant him brave, 
 270 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, 
 280 And in the Lowland leave behind, 
 
 Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, 
 
 A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 
 
 The hand that for my father fought 
 
 I honor, as his daughter ought; 
 
 But can I clasp it reeking red 
 
 From peasants slaughtered in their shed? 
 
 No! wildly while his virtues gleam. 
 
 They make his passions darker seem. 
 
 And flash along his spirit high, 
 890 Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 
 
36 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 While yet a child, — and children know, 
 
 Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — 
 
 I shuddered 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 Eoderick's name, 
 
 I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er 
 
 A Douglas knew the word, with fear. soo 
 
 To change such odious theme were best, — 
 
 What think'st thou of our stranger guest ? "-^ 
 
 XV 
 
 " What think I of him ? — woe the while 
 
 That brought such wanderer to our isle! 
 
 Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 
 
 For Tine-man 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. 310 
 
 If courtly spy hath harbored here. 
 
 What may we for the Douglas fear? 
 
 What for this island, deemed of old 
 
 Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold? 
 
 If neither spy nor foe, I pray 
 
 What yet may jealous Roderick say? — 
 
 Nay, wave not thy disdainful head! 
 
 Bethink thee of the discord dread 
 
 That kindled when at Beltane game 
 
 Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme; 320 
 
 Still, though thy sire the peace renewed, 
 
 Smoulders in Eoderick's breast the feud: 
 
CANTO SECOND 37 
 
 Beware! — But hark! what sounds are these." 
 M}'^ 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.'* 
 
 XVI 
 
 Far up the lengthened lake were spied 
 Four darkening specks upon the tide. 
 That, slow enlarging on the view, 
 Four manned and masted barges grew, 
 And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, 
 Steered full upon the lonely isle; 
 The point of Brianchoil they passed. 
 And, to the windward as they cast. 
 Against the sun they gave to shine 
 The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine. 
 Nearer and nearer as they bear, 
 Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. 
 Now might you sec 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 furrowed bosom of the deep, 
 As, rushincf through the lake amain, 
 They plied the ancient Highland strain. 
 6 
 
38 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XVII 
 
 Ever, as on they bore, more loud 
 
 And louder rung the pibroch proud. 
 
 At first the sounds, by distance tame. 
 
 Mellowed along the waters came, 
 
 And, lingering long by cape and bay. 
 
 Wailed every harsher note away, 36u 
 
 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 battered earth returns their tread. 
 
 Then prelude light, of livelier tone. 
 
 Expressed their merry marching on, 87o 
 
 Ere peal of closing battle rose. 
 
 With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows; 
 
 And mimic din of stroke and ward. 
 
 As broadsword upon target jarred; 
 
 And groaning pause, ere yet again. 
 
 Condensed, the battle yelled amain: 
 
 The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 
 
 Eetreat borne headlong into rout. 
 
 And bursts of triumph, to declare 
 
 Clan-Alpine's conquest — all were there. 380 
 
 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. 
 
CANTO SECOND 39 
 
 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 
 390 Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 
 
 Each boatman, bending to his oar, 
 With measured sweep the burden bore. 
 In such wild cadence as the breeze 
 Makes through December's leafless trees. 
 The chorus first could Allan know, 
 " Eoderick Vich Alpine, ho ! iro ! " 
 And near, and nearer as they rowed, 
 Distinct the martial ditty flowed, 
 
 XIX 
 
 BOAT SONG 
 
 Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances! 
 400 Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine! 
 Long may the tree, in his banner that glances. 
 Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! 
 Heaven send it happy dew. 
 Earth lend it sap anew, 
 Gayly 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, 
 410 Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; 
 
 When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the 
 mountain, 
 The more shall Clan- Alpine exult in her shade. 
 
40 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Moored 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 thrilled in Glen Fruin, 
 
 And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied; 420 
 
 Glen Luss and Eoss-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, 
 Think of Clan- Alpine with fear and with woe; 
 
 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 ! 430 
 
 that the rosebud that graces yon islands 
 
 Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine ! 
 
 that some seedling gem. 
 
 Worthy such noble stem. 
 Honored and blessed in their shadow might grow! 
 
 Loud should Clan-Alpine then 
 
 Ring from her deepmost glen, 
 " Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho I ieroe ! " 
 
 XXI 
 
 With all her joyful female band 
 
 Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. ' 440 
 
 Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, 
 
 And high their snowy armsr they threw. 
 
CANTO SECOND 41 
 
 As echoing back with shrill acclaim. 
 
 And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name; 
 
 While, prompt to please, with mother's art, 
 
 The darling passion of his heart. 
 
 The Dame called Ellen to the strand, 
 
 To greet her kinsman ere he land: 
 
 " Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou. 
 
 And shun to wreathe a victor's brow ? " 
 
 Eeluctantly and slow, the maid 
 
 The unwelcome summoning obeyed. 
 
 And when a distant bugle rung. 
 
 In the mid-path aside she sprung: — 
 
 " List, Allan-bane ! From mainland east 
 
 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 scanned. 
 
 For her dear form, his mother's band. 
 
 The islet far behind her lay, 
 
 And she had landed in the bay. 
 
 XXII 
 
 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, 
 
 'T is that which pious fathers shed 
 
 Upon a duteous daughter's head! 
 
 And as the Douglas to his breast 
 
 His darling Ellen closely pressed, 
 
42 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Such holy drops her tresses steeped, 
 
 Though 't was an hero's eye that weeped. 
 
 Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 
 
 Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 
 
 Marked she that fear — affection's proof — 
 
 Still held a graceful youth aloof; 480 
 
 No ! not till Douglas named his name, 
 
 Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Allan, with wistful look the while. 
 
 Marked Eoderick landing on the isle; 
 
 His master piteously he eyed. 
 
 Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride. 
 
 Then dashed with hasty hand away 
 
 From his dimmed eye the gathering spray; 
 
 And Douglas, as his hand he laid 
 
 On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said: 490 
 
 " Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy 
 
 In my poor follower's glistening eye? 
 
 I '11 tell thee: — he recalls the day 
 
 When in my praise he led the lay 
 
 O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud. 
 
 While many a minstrel answered loud. 
 
 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, soo 
 
 Gracing my pomp, behind me came. 
 
 Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 
 
 Was I of all that marshalled crowd, 
 
 Though the waned crescent owned my might, 
 
 And in my train trooped lord and knight, 
 
CANTO SECOND 43 
 
 Though Blantyre hymned 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, 
 510 A welcome give more kind and true 
 Than aught my better fortunes knew. 
 Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, — 
 0, it out-beggars all I lost ! " 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Delightful praise! — like summer rose, 
 That brighter in the dew-drop glows. 
 The bashful maiden's cheek appeared, 
 For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 
 The flush of shame-faced joy to hide. 
 The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide; 
 
 52Q The loved caresses of the maid 
 
 The dogs with crouch and whimper paid; 
 And, at her whistle, on her hand 
 The falcon took his favorite stand. 
 Closed his dark wing, relaxed 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'erweighed her worth and beauty aught, 
 
 630 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. 
 
 XXV 
 
 Of stature fair, and slender frame. 
 But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. 
 
44- THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 The belted plaid and tartan hose 
 
 Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose; 
 
 His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, 
 
 Curled closely round his bonnet blue. 
 
 Trained to the chase, his eagle eye mo 
 
 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. 
 
 And scarce that doe, though winged with fear. 
 
 Outstripped in speed the mountaineer: 
 
 Right up Ben Lomond could he press. 
 
 And not a sob his toil confess. 
 
 His form accorded with a mind 650 
 
 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 played 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, 660 
 
 Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown 
 
 Be foremost voiced by mountain fame. 
 
 But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 Now back they wend their watery way, 
 And, " my sire ! " did Ellen say, 
 " Why urge thy chase so far astray ? 
 And why so late returned ? And why " — 
 The rest was in her speaking eye. 
 
CANTO SECOND 45 
 
 " My child, the chase I follow far, 
 570 'T is mimicry of noble war; 
 
 And with that gallant pastime reft 
 
 Were all of Douglas I have left. 
 
 I met young Malcolm as I strayed 
 
 Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade; 
 
 Nor strayed I safe, for all around 
 
 Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground. 
 
 This youth, though still a royal ward, 
 
 Eisked life and land to be my guard, 
 
 And through the passes of the wood 
 680 Guided my steps, not unpursued; 
 
 And Roderick shall his welcome make, 
 
 Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. 
 
 Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen. 
 
 Nor peril aught for me again." 
 
 XXVII 
 
 Sir Roderick, who to meet them came. 
 
 Reddened at sight of Malcolm Graeme, 
 
 Yet, not in action, word, or eye. 
 
 Failed aught in hospitality. 
 
 In talk and sport they whiled away 
 690 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. 
 
 Deep thought seemed 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 
 600 His eyes, then fixed them on the ground. 
 
46 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 As studying phrase that might avail 
 Best to convey unpleasant tale. 
 Long with his dagger's hilt he played, 
 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 Eoderick's claim; 
 
 Mine honored mother; — Ellen, — why, 
 
 My cousin, turn away thine eye ? — «io 
 
 And Grseme, 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. 
 
 And when the banquet they prepared, 620 
 
 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 Ettrick glide. 
 
 And from the silver Teviot's side; 
 
 The dales, where martial clans did ride. 
 
 Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 
 
 This tyrant of the Scottish throne, 
 
 So faithless and so ruthless known, 630 
 
 Now hither comes; his end the same. 
 
 The same pretext of sylvan game. 
 
640 
 
 CANTO SECOND 47 
 
 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 streight I show.'* 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Ellen and Margaret fearfully 
 
 Sought comfort in each other's eye, 
 
 Then turned their ghastly look, each one. 
 
 This to her sire, that to her son. 
 
 The hasty color went and came 
 
 In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme, 
 
 But from his glance it well appeared 
 
 'T was but for Ellen that he feared; 
 
 While, sorrowful, but undismayed, 
 
 The Douglas thus his counsel said: 
 
 " Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar, 
 
 650 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 King'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, 
 
 660 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 passed and o'er," — 
 
48 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXX 
 
 " No, by mine honor," Roderick said, 
 
 " So help me Heaven, and my good blade ! 
 
 No, never! Blasted be yon Pine, 
 
 My father's ancient crest and mine, 
 
 If from its shade in danger part 
 
 The lineage of the Bleeding Heart! 67o 
 
 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 enow; 
 
 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, sso 
 
 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 their land, 
 
 Till the foiled King from pathless glen e9o 
 
 Shall bootless turn him home again." 
 
 XXXI 
 
 There are who have, at midnight hour. 
 In slumber scaled a dizzy tower. 
 And, on the verge that beetled o'er 
 The ocean tide's incessant roar. 
 
CANTO SECOND 49 
 
 Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream, 
 
 Till wakened by the morning beam; 
 
 When, dazzled by the eastern glow, 
 
 Such startler cast his glance below, 
 700 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 yawned around, 
 710 By crossing terrors wildly tossed. 
 
 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. 
 Had Douglas marked the hectic strife. 
 Where death seemed combating with life; 
 720 For to her cheek, in feverish flood. 
 
 One instant rushed the throbbing blood. 
 Then ebbing back, with sudden sway. 
 Left its domain as wan as clay. 
 " Eoderick, enough ! enough ! " he cried, 
 " My daughter cannot be thy bride ; 
 Not that the blush to wooer dear. 
 Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 
 
60 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 It may not be, — forgive her, Chief, 
 
 Nor hazard aught for our relief. 
 
 Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 780 
 
 Will level a rebellious spear, 
 
 'T was 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. 
 
 0, seek the grace you well may find, 
 
 .Without a cause to mine combined ! '' 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode; 740 
 
 The waving of his tartans broad. 
 
 And darkened brow, where wounded pride 
 
 With ire and disappointment vied. 
 
 Seemed, 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 envenomed smart. 
 
 And Eoderick, with thine anguish stung, fso 
 
 At length the hand of Douglas wrung. 
 
 While eyes that mocked at tears before 
 
 With bitter drops were running o'er. 
 
 The death-pangs of long-cherished hope 
 
 Scarce in that ample breast had scope. 
 
 But, struggling with his spirit proud. 
 
 Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud. 
 
 While every sob — so mute were all — 
 
 Was heard distinctly through the hall. 
 
CANTO SECOND 51 
 
 760 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 Eoderick from the Douglas broke — 
 As flashes flame through sable smoke. 
 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. 
 
 770 With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 
 On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid : 
 " Back, beardless boy ! " he sternly said, 
 "Back, minion! holdst thou thus at naught 
 The lesson I so lately taught ? 
 This roof, the Douglas, and that maid. 
 Thank thou for punishment delayed," 
 Eager as greyhound on his game, 
 Fiercely with Eoderick grappled Graeme. 
 " Perish my name, if aught afford 
 
 780 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 deemed the spoil 
 
 ^^ Of such dishonorable broil ? " 
 
62 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Sullen and slowl)'^ they unclasp, 
 
 As struck with shame, their desperate grasp. 
 
 And each upon his rival glared, 
 
 With foot advanced and blade half bared. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, 
 
 Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung. 
 
 And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, 
 
 As faltered through terrific dream. 
 
 Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, 
 
 And veiled his wrath in scornful word : sw 
 
 " Rest safe till morning ; pity 't were 
 
 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 freeborn 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 Grseme." gio 
 
 Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold : 
 
 "Fear nothing for thy favorite hold; 
 
 The spot an angel deigned to grace 
 
 Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place. 
 
 Thy churlish courtesy for those 
 
 Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 
 
 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. — • 820 
 
 Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay. 
 
 Naught here of parting will I say. 
 
CANTO SECOND 53 
 
 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 followed to the strand — 
 Such was the Douglas's command — 
 And anxious told, how, on the morn, 
 
 830 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 't were 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 rolled, 
 
 810 His ample plaid in tightened fold. 
 
 And stripped 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 pressed, — 
 " 0, 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, 
 850 Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. 
 Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme 
 Who loves the chieftain of his name. 
 
54 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Not long shall honored 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 naught, 
 
 Not the poor service of a boat, 
 
 To waft me to yon mountain-side." 
 
 Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 860 
 
 Bold o'er the flood his head he bore, 
 
 And stoutly steered him from the shore; 
 
 And Allan strained his anxious eye. 
 
 Far mid the lake his form to spy, 
 
 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. 8TO 
 
 The Minstrel heard the far halloo. 
 
 And joyful from the shore withdrew. 
 
CANTO THIRD 
 
 THE GATHERING 
 I 
 
 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 happed by land or sea. 
 
 How are they blotted from the things that be ! 
 
56 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 How few, all weak and withered 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 cease- 
 less course. 
 
 Yet live there still who can remember well, lo 
 
 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 yelled the gathering 
 sound. 
 And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, 
 round. 
 
 II 
 
 The Summer dawn's reflected hue 
 
 To purple changed Loch Katrine blue; 20 
 
 Mildly and soft the western breeze 
 
 Just kissed the lake, just stirred 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 reared of silver bright; so 
 
 The doe awoke, and to the lawn. 
 
 Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn; 
 
 The gray mist left the mountain-side, 
 
 The torrent showed its glistening pride; 
 
 Invisible in flecked sky 
 
 The lark sent down her revelry; 
 
CANTO THIRD 57 
 
 The blackbird and the speckled thrush 
 Good-morrow gave from brake and bush; 
 In answer cooed the cushat dove 
 40 Her notes of peace and rest and love. 
 
 Ill 
 
 No thought of peace, jio thought of rest. 
 Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. 
 With sheathed broadsword in his hand, 
 Abrupt he paced 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; 
 
 50 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 Benvenue, 
 She spread her dark sails on the wind. 
 And, high in middle heaven reclined. 
 With her broad shadow on the lake, 
 
 60 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, 
 Eent by the lightning's recent stroke. 
 Brian the Hermit by it stood, 
 Barefooted, in his frock and hood. 
 
58 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 His grizzled beard and matted hair 
 
 Obscured a visage of despair; 
 
 His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er. 
 
 The scars of frantic penance bore. TO- 
 
 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 hardened heart and eye might brook 
 
 On human sacrifice to look; 
 
 And much, 't was said, of heathen lore 
 
 Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er. so 
 
 The hallowed creed gave only worse 
 
 And deadlier emphasis of curse. 
 
 No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer, 
 
 His cave the pilgrim shunned with care; 
 
 The eager huntsman knew his bound, 
 
 And in mid chase called off his hound; 
 
 Or if, in lonely glen or strath, 
 
 The desert-dweller met his path. 
 
 He prayed, and signed the cross between. 
 
 While terror took devotion's mien. 90 
 
 Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. 
 His mother watched a midnight fold. 
 Built deep within a dreary glen. 
 Where scattered lay the bones of men 
 In some forgotten battle slain. 
 And bleached by drifting wind and rain. 
 It might have tamed a warrior's heart 
 To view such mockery of his art ! 
 
CANTO THIRD 59 
 
 The knot-grass fettered there the hand 
 
 Which once could burst an iron band; 
 
 Beneath the broad and ample bone, 
 
 That bucklered heart to fear unknown, 
 
 A feeble and a timorous guest, 
 
 The fieldfare framed her lowly nest; 
 
 There the slow blindworm left his slime 
 
 On the fleet limbs that mocked at time; 
 
 And there, too, lay the leader's skull. 
 
 Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full. 
 
 For heath-bell with her purple bloom 
 
 Supplied the bonnet and the plume. 
 
 All night, in this sad glen, the maid 
 
 Sat shrouded in her mantle's shade: 
 
 She said no shepherd sought her side, 
 
 No hunter's hands her snood untied. 
 
 Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 
 
 The virgin snood did Alice wear; 
 
 Nor sought she, from that fatal night. 
 Or holy church or blessed rite. 
 But locked her secret in her breast. 
 And died in travail, unconf essed. 
 
 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. 
 W^hole nights he spent by moonlight pale. 
 To wood and stream his hap to wail, 
 
60 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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 
 
 Unclasped the sable-lettered page ; 
 
 Even in its treasures he could find 
 
 Food for the fever of his mind. 140 
 
 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. 150 
 
 Where with black clifl^s the torrents toil, 
 
 He watched 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, 
 
 Swelled with the voices of the dead ; 
 
 Far on the future battle-heath 
 
 His eye beheld the ranks of death : leo 
 
 Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled, 
 
 Shaped forth a disembodied world. 
 
CANTO THIRD 61 
 
 One lingering sympathy of mind 
 Still bound him to the mortal kind; 
 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 horseman ne'er might ride; 
 The thunderbolt had split the pine, — 
 All augured ill to Alpine's line. 
 He girt his loins, and came to show 
 The signals of impending Avoe, 
 And now stood prompt to bless or ban. 
 As bade the Chieftain of his clan. 
 
 VIII 
 
 'T was 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 clogged beard and shaggy limb, 
 Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 
 The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 
 A slender crosslet framed with care, 
 A cubit's length in measure due; 
 The shaft and limbs were rods of yew. 
 Whose parents in Inch-Cailliaeh wave 
 Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave. 
 And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, 
 Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 
 7 
 
200 
 
 62 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 The Cross thus formed he held on high. 
 With wasted hand and haggard eye, 
 And strange and mingled feelings woke. 
 While his anathema he spoke: — 
 
 IX 
 
 " Woe to the clansman who shall view 
 This s3^mbol of sepulchral yew, 
 Forgetful that its branches grew 
 Where Aveep the heavens their holiest dew 
 
 On Alpine's dwelling low! 
 Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, 
 He ne'er shall mingle with their dust, 
 But, from his sires and kindred thrust. 
 Each clansman's execration Just 
 
 Shall doom him wrath and woe." 
 He paused; — the word the vassals took, 
 With forward step and fiery look, 210 
 
 On high their naked brands they shook, 
 Their clattering targets wildly strook; 
 
 And first in murmur low. 
 Then, like the billow in his course, 
 That far to seaward finds his source. 
 And flings to shore his mustered force. 
 Burst with loud roar their answer hoarse, 
 
 " Woe to the traitor, woe ! " 
 Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew. 
 The joyous wolf from covert drew, 220 
 
 The exulting eagle screamed afar, — 
 They knew the voice of Alpine's war. 
 
 X 
 
 The shout was hushed on lake and fell. 
 The Monk resumed his muttered spell: 
 
CANTO THIRD 63 
 
 Dismal and low its accents came, 
 The while he scathed the Cross with flame; 
 And the few words that reached 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: — 
 " Woe to the wretch who fails to rear 
 At this dread sign the ready spear! 
 For, as the flames this 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. 
 While maids and matrons on his name 
 Shall call down wretchedness and shame. 
 
 And infamy and woe." 
 Then rose the cry of females, shrill 
 As goshawk'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 woe ! " 
 A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
 Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave! 
 And the gray pass Avhere birches wave 
 
 On Beala-nam-bo. 
 
 XI 
 
 Then deeper paused the priest anew. 
 And hard his laboring breath he drew, 
 
64 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 While, with set teeth and clenched hand, 
 
 And eyes that gloM-ed like fiery brand. 
 
 He meditated curse more dread, seo 
 
 And deadlier, on the clansman's head 
 
 Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid, 
 
 The signal saw and disobeyed. 
 
 The crosslet's points of sparkling wood 
 
 He quenched among the bubbling blood, 
 
 And, as again the sign he reared, 
 
 Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard: 
 
 " When flits this Cross from man to man, 
 
 Vich-Alpine's summons to his elan. 
 
 Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! 87o 
 
 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 . 280 
 
 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 Lanrick mead — 
 Instant the time — speed, Malise, speed!" 
 Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, 
 A barge across Loch Katrine flew: 
 
CANTO THIRD 65 
 
 290 High stood the henchman on the prow; 
 So rapidly the barge-men row, 
 The bubbles, where they launched the boat, 
 Were all unbroken and afloat. 
 Dancing in foam and ripple still, 
 When it had neared the mainland hill; 
 And from the silver beach's side 
 Still was the prow three fathom wide. 
 When lightly bounded to the land 
 The messenger of blood and brand. 
 
 XIII 
 
 300 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 doM^n 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; 
 310 The crag is high, the scaur is deep. 
 
 Yet shrink not from the desperate leap: 
 
 Parched 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; 
 320 But danger, death, and warrior deed 
 
 Are in thy course — speed, Malise, speed! 
 
QQ THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XIV 
 
 Fast as the fatal symbol flies, 
 
 In arms the huts and hamlets rise; 
 
 From winding glen, from upland brown, 
 
 They poured each hardy tenant down. 
 
 Nor slacked the messenger his pace; 
 
 He showed the sign, he named the place, 
 
 And, pressing forward like the wind, 
 
 Left clamor and surprise behind. 
 
 The fisherman forsook the strand, S3o 
 
 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 strayed, 
 
 The plough was in mid-furrow stayed. 
 
 The falconer tossed his hawk away. 
 
 The hunter left the stag at bay; 
 
 Prompt at the signal of alarms. 
 
 Each son of Alpine rushed to arms; 
 
 So swept the tumult and affray 840 
 
 Along the margin of Aehray. 
 
 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 gayly loud. 
 
 XV 
 
 Speed, Malise, speed ! The lake is past, 
 Duncraggan's huts appear at last, 
 And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, sso 
 
 Half hidden in the copse so green; 
 
CANTO THIRD 67 
 
 There maj'st thou rest, thy labor done. 
 Their lord shall speed the signal on. — 
 As stoops the hawk npon 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. 
 Who, in the battle or the chase, 
 At Eoderick's side shall fill his place! — 
 Within the hall, where torch's ray 
 Supplies the^xcluded 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 
 
 COKO^TACH 
 
 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, reappearing, 
 
 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. 
 
68 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 The autumn winds rurihing 
 
 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, 300 
 
 Like the foam on the river. 
 Like the bubble on the fountain. 
 
 Thou art gone, and forevei^ 
 
 XVII 
 
 See Stumah, 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. 
 
 'T is not a mourner's muffled tread, 400 
 
 Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead. 
 
 But headlong haste or deadly fear 
 
 Urge the precipitate career. 
 
 All stand aghast: — unheeding all, 
 
 The henchman bursts into the hall ; 
 
 Before the dead man's bier he stood, 
 
 Held forth the Cross besmeared witli blood; 
 
 " The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; 
 
 Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, speed ! " 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, 410 
 
 Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. 
 
CANTO THIRD 69 
 
 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 opened arms he flew, 
 Pressed on her lips a fond adieu, — 
 " Alas ! " she sobbed, — " and yet be gone, 
 And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son ! " 
 One look he cast upon the bier, 
 Dashed from his eye the gathering tear. 
 Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast, 
 And tossed aloft his bonnet crest, 
 Then, like the high-bred colt when, freed. 
 First he essays his fire and speed, 
 He vanished, and o'er moor and moss 
 Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. 
 Suspended was the widow's tear 
 While yet his footsteps she could hear; 
 And when she marked 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 best 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 
 Snatched sword and targe with hurried hand; 
 8 
 
70 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 And short and flitting energy 
 
 Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye. 
 
 As if the sounds to warrior dear 
 
 Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. 
 
 But faded soon that borrowed force; 450 
 
 Grief claimed his right, and tears their course. 
 
 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 gathered 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, 46o 
 
 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 reeled his sympathetic eye. 
 
 He dashed amid the torrent's roar: 
 
 His right hand high the crosslet bore, 
 
 His left the pole-axe grasped, to guide 
 
 And stay his footing in the tide. 
 
 He stumbled twice, — the foam splashed high, 470 
 
 With hoarser swell the stream raced by; 
 
 And had he fallen, — forever there. 
 
 Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir! 
 
 But still, as if in parting life. 
 
 Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife. 
 
 Until the opposing bank he gained, 
 
 And up the chapel pathway strained. 
 
CANTO THIRD 7I 
 
 XX 
 
 A blithesome rout that morning-tide 
 Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. 
 
 480 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; 
 
 490 And minstrels, that in measures vied 
 Before the young and bonny bride. 
 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 
 
 500 Who meets them at the churchyard gate? 
 The messenger of fear and fate ! 
 Haste in his hurried accent lies. 
 And grief is swimming in his eyes. 
 All dripping from the recent flood, 
 Panting and travel-soiled he stood. 
 The fatal sign of fire and sword 
 Held forth, and spoke the appointed word: 
 
72 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 "The muster-place is Lanrick mead; 
 
 Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed ! " 
 
 And must he change so soon the hand 510 
 
 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? 
 
 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! B20 
 
 XXII 
 
 Yet slow he laid his plaid aside. 
 
 And lingering eyed his lovely bride. 
 
 Until he saw the starting tear 
 
 Speak woe he might not stop to cheer; 
 
 Then, trusting not a second look, 
 
 In haste he sped him up the brook. 
 
 Nor backward glanced till on the heath 
 
 Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. — 
 
 What in the racer's bosom stirred? 
 
 The sickening pang of hope deferred, eao 
 
 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 mountaineers 
 
 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 honors on his crest, 
 
 To clasp his Mary to his breast. B40 
 
CANTO THIRD ^3 
 
 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; 
 To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, 
 B50 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, 
 560 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 returned from conquered foes, 
 How blithely will the evening close. 
 How sweet the linnet sing repose. 
 
 To my young bride and me, Mary! 
 
74 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 
 
 Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 570 
 
 Eushing in conflagration strong 
 
 Thy deep ravines and dells along, 
 
 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 
 
 Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course; 58o 
 
 Thence southward turned 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 sequestered glen. 
 
 Mustered its little horde of men, ^^o 
 
 That met as torrents from the height 
 
 In Highland dales 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 trained to arms since life began, 
 
 Owning no tie but to his clan, 
 
 No oath but by his chieftain's hand, 
 
 No law but Eoderick Dhu's command. 600 
 
CANTO THIRD 75 
 
 XXV 
 
 That summer morn had Eoderick Dhu 
 Survej'ed the skirts of Benvenue, 
 And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath. 
 To view the frontiers of Menteith. 
 All backward came with news of truce; 
 Still lay each martial Gramme and Bruce, 
 In Eednock courts no horsemen wait. 
 No banner waved on Cardross gate, 
 On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, 
 
 610 j^or scared the herons from Loch Con; 
 All seemed at peace. — Now wot ye why 
 The Chieftain with such anxious eye. 
 Ere to the muster he repair. 
 This western frontier scanned with care?- 
 In Benvenue'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 sequestered dell 
 
 620 Had sought a low and lonely cell. 
 By many a bard in Celtic tongue 
 Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung; 
 A softer name the Saxons gave, 
 And called 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, 
 Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast; 
 Its trench had stayed full many a rock, 
 B30 Hurled by primeval earthquake shock 
 
76 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 From Benvenue's gray summit wild. 
 
 And here, in random ruin piled, 
 
 They frowned incumbent o'er the spot. 
 
 And formed 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 depth, Futurity. 640 
 
 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. 
 
 Suspended cliffs with hideous sway 
 
 Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray. 
 
 From such a den the wolf had sprung. 
 
 In such the wild-cat leaves her young; 6B0 
 
 Yet Douglas and his daughter fair 
 
 Sought for a space their safety there. 
 
 Gray Superstition's whisper dread 
 
 Debarred 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, *60 
 
 When Roderick with a chosen few 
 
 Repassed the heights of Benvenue. 
 
CANTO THIRD 77 
 
 Above the Goblin Cave they go, 
 
 Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-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. 
 
 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 neighboring height, 
 
 By the low-levelled sunbeam's 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. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 Their Chief with step reluctant still 
 Was lingering on the craggy hill. 
 Hard by where turned 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 think of Ellen Douglas more ; 
 
78 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; 700 
 
 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. '10 
 
 What melting voice attends the strings? 
 
 'T is Ellen, or an angel, sings. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 HYMN TO THE VIRGIN 
 
 Ave Maria! 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 banished, outcast, and reviled — 
 Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer; 
 
 Mother, hear a suppliant child! 720 
 
 Ave 31 aria! 
 
 Ave Maria! undefiled! 
 
 The fiinty couch we now must share 
 Shall seem with down of eider piled, 
 
 If thy j^rotection hover there. 
 
CANTO THIRD 79 
 
 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 Maria! stainless styled! 
 730 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. 
 
 As listening still, Clan-Alpine's lord 
 
 740 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 — 't is the last," 
 He muttered thrice, — " the last time e'er 
 That angel-voice shall Eoderick hear ! " 
 It was a goading thought, — his stride 
 Hied hastier down the mountain-side; 
 Sullen he flung him in the boat, 
 
 750 An instant 'cross the lake it shot. 
 They landed in that silvery bay. 
 And eastward held their hasty way, 
 
80 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Till, with the latest beams of light, 
 The band arrived on Lanrick height. 
 Where mustered in the vale below 
 Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 A various scene the clansmen made: 
 
 Some sat, some stood, some slowly strayed; 
 
 But most, with mantles folded round, 
 
 Were couched to rest upon the ground, '*" 
 
 Scarce to be known by curious eye 
 
 From the deep heather where they lie. 
 
 So well was matched 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, "^o 
 
 Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 
 
 Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 
 
 Three times returned the martial yell; 
 
 It died upon Bochastle's plain, 
 
 And Silence claimed her evening reign. 
 
CANTO FOURTH 
 
 THE PROPHECY 
 I 
 
 " The rose is fairest when 't is budding new, 
 
 And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; 
 
 The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, 
 And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears. 
 
82 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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 Vennaehar's broad wave. 
 
 II 
 
 Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, lo 
 
 Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. 
 
 All while he stripped 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. 
 
 " Stand, or thou diest ! — What, Malise ? — soon 
 
 Art thou returned from Braes of Doune. 
 
 By thy keen step and glance I know, 20 
 
 Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe." — 
 
 For while the Fiery Cross hied on. 
 
 On distant scout had Malise gone. — 
 
 " Where sleeps the Chief ? " the henchman said. 
 
 " Apart, in yonder misty glade ; 
 
 To his lone couch I '11 be your guide." — 
 
 Then called a slumberer by his side. 
 
 And stirred him with his slackened bow, — 
 
 " Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho ! 
 
 We seek the Chieftain; on the track 30 
 
 Keep eagle watch till I come back." 
 
 Ill 
 
 Together up the pass they sped: 
 " What of the f oeman ? " Norman said. — 
 "Varying reports from near and far; 
 This certain, — that a band of war 
 
CANTO FOURTH 83 
 
 Has for two days been ready boime, 
 
 At prompt command to march from Doune; 
 
 King James the while, with princely powers, 
 
 Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 
 40 Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 
 
 Speak on our glens in thunder loud. 
 
 Inured to bide such bitter bout. 
 
 The warrior's plaid may bear it out; 
 
 But, ISTorman, how wilt thou provide 
 
 A shelter for thy bonny bride ? " — 
 
 " What ! 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 
 BO Unfit for arms ; 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 
 
 " 'T is well advised, — the Chieftain's plan 
 Bespeaks the father of his clan. 
 But wherefore sleeps Sir Eoderick Dhu 
 Apart from all his followers true ? " 
 " It is because last evening-tide 
 60 Brian an augury hath tried. 
 
 Of that dread kind which must not be 
 Unless in dread extremity, 
 The Taghairm called; by which, afar. 
 Our sires foresaw the events of war. 
 Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew,'' — 
 
 MALISE 
 
 " Ah ! well the gallant brute I knew ! 
 The choicest of the prey we had 
 
84 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 When swept our merr3'men Gallangad. 
 
 His hide was snow, his horns were dark, 
 
 His red eye glowed like fiery spark; to 
 
 So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet, 
 
 Sore did he cumber our retreat. 
 
 And kept our stoutest kerns 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 Dennan's Eow 
 
 A child might scathless stroke his brow." 
 
 V 
 
 NORMAN 
 
 "That bull was slain; his reeking hide 
 
 They stretched the cataract beside, so 
 
 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 shelf beneath its brink, 
 
 Close where the thundering torrents sink, 
 
 Eocking beneath their headlong sway, 
 
 And drizzled by the ceaseless spray, 
 
 Midst groan of rock and roar of stream, 
 
 The wizard waits prophetic dream. 90 
 
 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 ? " 
 
CANTO FOURTH 85 
 
 MALISE 
 
 100 " Peace ! peace ! to other than to me 
 Thy words were evil augury; 
 But still I hold Sir Eoderiek's blade 
 Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid, 
 Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell. 
 Yon 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: — 
 
 110 " Eoderick ! it is a fearful strife, 
 
 For man endowed 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, — 
 'T is hard for such to view, unfurled. 
 The curtain of the future world. 
 Yet, witness every quaking limb. 
 My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim, 
 
 120 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 ! 
 
86 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, i3o 
 
 But borne and branded on my soul : — 
 Which spills the foremost foeman's life, 
 That party conquers in the strife." 
 
 VII 
 
 " Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and 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-offered to the avispicious blow: 
 
 A spy has sought my land this morn, — 140 
 
 No eve shall witness his return! 
 
 My followers guard each pass's mouth. 
 
 To east, to westward, and to south; 
 
 Eed 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 show! 
 
 Malise! what tidings of the foe? " 
 
 VIII 
 
 " At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive 150 
 
 Two Barons proud their banners wave. 
 
 I saw the Moray's silver star, 
 
 And marked the sable pale of Mar." 
 
 " By Alpine's soul, high tidings those ! 
 
 I love to hear of worthy foes. 
 
 When move they on ? " " To-morrow's noon 
 
 Will see them here for battle boune." 
 
 " Then shall it see a meeting stern ! 
 
 But, for the place, — say, eouldst thou learn 
 
 Nought of the friendly clans of Earn? leo 
 
CANTO FOURTH 87 
 
 Strengthened 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 '11 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 — 
 
 170 Is it the breeze affects mine eye? 
 
 Or dost thou come, ill-omened 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! 
 
 'T is stubborn as his trusty targe. 
 
 Each to his post ! — all know their charge." 
 
 The pibroch sounds, the bands advance, 
 
 180 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. 
 
 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 poured on her unheeding ear. 
 " He will return — dear lady, trust ! — 
 190 With joy return; — he will — he must. 
 
 Well was it time to seek afar 
 Some refuge from impending war. 
 
88 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarni 
 
 Are cowed by the approaching storm. 
 
 I saw their boats with many a light, 
 
 Floating the livelong yesternight, 
 
 Shifting like flashes darted forth 
 
 By the red streamers of the north; 
 
 I marked at morn how close they ride, 
 
 Thick moored by the lone islet's side, 800 
 
 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 mainland side, 
 
 Shall not thy noble father's care 
 
 Some safe retreat for thee prepare ? " 
 
 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, 210 
 
 The tear that glistened in his eye 
 
 Drowned not his purpose fixed and high. 
 
 My soul, though feminine and weak. 
 
 Can image his; e'en as the lake. 
 
 Itself disturbed by slightest stroke. 
 
 Reflects the invulnerable ^ock. 
 
 He hears report of battle rife, 
 
 He deems himself the cause of strife. 
 
 I saw him redden when the theme 
 
 Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream 220 
 
 Of Malcolm Grseme in fetters bound, 
 
 Which I, thou saidst, about, him wound. 
 
 Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught? 
 
 no ! 't was apprehensive thought . 
 
CANTO FOURTH 89 
 
 For the kind youth, — for Koderick 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, 
 230 ' If not on earth, we meet in heaven ! ' 
 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, 
 240 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!— 
 
 My visioned sight may yet prove true, 
 
 Nor bode of ill to him or you. 
 
 When did my gifted dream beguile? 
 
 Think of the stranger at the isle, 
 
 And think upon the harpings slow 
 
 That presaged this approaching woe! 
 250 vSooth 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. 
 
 Of such a wondrous tale I know — 
 
 Dear lady, change that look of woe. 
 
 My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.'* 
 
00 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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. seo 
 
 XII 
 
 BALLAD 
 ALICE BRAND 
 
 Merry it is in the good greenwood, 
 
 When the mavis and merle are singing, 
 When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, 
 
 And the hunter's horn is ringing. 
 
 " Alice Brand, my native land 
 
 Is lost for love of you ; 
 And we must hold by wood and wold. 
 
 As outlaws wont to do. 
 
 " Alice, 't was all for thy locks so bright, 
 
 And 't was all for thine eyes so blue, 270 
 
 That on the night of our luckless 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 fingers small, 
 
 That wont on harp to stray, 
 A cloak must shear from the slaughtered doer, 
 
 To keep the cold away." 2so 
 
CANTO FOURTH 91 
 
 " Kiehard ! if my brother died, 
 'T was 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 '11 say, is the russet gray. 
 As gay the forest-green. 
 
 " And, Eichard, if our lot be hard, 
 wo And lost thy native land. 
 
 Still Alice has her own Richard, 
 And he his Alice Brand." 
 
 XIII 
 
 BALLAD CONTINUED 
 
 'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood; 
 
 So blithe Lady Alice is singing; 
 On the beeches pride, and oak's brown side. 
 
 Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 
 
 Up spoke the moody Elfin King, 
 Who woned within the hill, — 
 Like wind in the porch of a ruined church, 
 MO 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 fairies' fatal green? 
 
92 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 " Up, Urgan, up ! to 3-011 mortal hie. 
 
 For thou wert christened man; 
 For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, 
 
 For muttered word or ban. 3io 
 
 " Lay on him the curse of the withered heart, 
 
 The curse of the sleepless eye; 
 Till he wish and pray that his life would part. 
 
 Nor yet find leave to die.'^ 
 
 XIV 
 
 BALLAD CONTINUED 
 
 'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood. 
 Though the birds have stilled their singing; 
 
 The evening blaze doth Alice raise, 
 And Richard is fagots bringing. 
 
 Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, 
 
 Before Lord Eichard stands, 820 
 
 And, as he crossed and blessed himself, 
 " I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf, 
 
 " 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, 
 
 'T is 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, 330 
 
 The blood of Ethert Brand." 
 
 Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand, 
 
 And made the holy sign, — 
 " And if there 's blood on Richard's hand, 
 
 A spotless hand is mine. 
 
CANTO FOURTH 93 
 
 " And I conjure thee, demon elf, 
 
 By Him whom demons fear, 
 To show us whence thou art th3'self, 
 
 And what thme errand here ? " 
 
 XV 
 
 BALLAD CONTINUED 
 
 340 " 'T is merry, 't is 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 gayly 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, 
 350 Who now like knight and lady seem. 
 And now like dwarf and ape. 
 
 " 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 snatched 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, 
 360 As fair a form as thine." 
 
 She crossed him once — she crossed him twice — 
 
 That lady was so brave ; 
 The fouler grew his goblin hue. 
 
 The darker grew the cave. 
 9 
 
94 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 She crossed 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, 370 
 
 But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray. 
 
 When all the bells were ringing. 
 
 XVI 
 
 Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed, 
 
 A stranger climbed the steepy glade; 
 
 His martial step, his stately mien. 
 
 His hunting-suit of Lincoln green. 
 
 His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 
 
 'T is Snowdoun's Knight, 't is James Fitz-James. 
 
 Ellen beheld as in a dream. 
 
 Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream : sso 
 
 " 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 marshalled over bank and bourne 
 
 The happy path of my return." 
 
 " The happy path ! — what ! said he naught 
 
 Of war, of battle to be fought, 390 
 
 Of guarded pass ? " " No, by my faith ! 
 
 Nor saw I aught could augur scathe." 
 
 "0 haste thee, Allan, to the kern: 
 
 Yonder his tartans I discern; 
 
 Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 
 
 That he will guide the stranger sure! — 
 
CANTO FOURTH 95 
 
 What prompted thee, unhappy man? 
 The meanest serf in Roderick's clan 
 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 honor's weighed 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 '11 place thee in a lovely bower, 
 I '11 guard thee like a tender flower — " 
 " hush, Sir Knight ! 't were female art. 
 To say I do not read thy heart; 
 Too muchj 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! — 
 One way remains — I '11 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 — my father is a man 
 Outlawed and exiled, under ban; 
 
^96 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 The price of blood is on his head. 
 
 With me 't were infamy to wed. 430 
 
 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, 440 
 
 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 agon}^ 
 
 As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom 
 
 And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. 
 
 Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye. 
 
 But not with hope fled sympathy. 
 
 He proffered to attend her side, 450 
 
 As brother would a sister guide. 
 
 "0 little know'st thou Eoderick'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 crossed his brain, 
 
 He paused, and turned, and came again. 460 
 
CANTO FOURTH 97 
 
 XIX 
 
 "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, 
 
 •170 Whose castle is his helm and shield, 
 His lordship the embattled field. 
 What from a prince can 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." 
 
 480 He placed the golden circlet on. 
 
 Paused — kissed her hand — and then was gone. 
 
 The aged Minstrel stood aghast, 
 
 So hastily Fitz-James shot past. 
 
 He joined 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 Trosaehs' glen was still. 
 Noontide was sleeping on the hill: 
 490 Sudden his guide whooped loud and high — 
 " Murdoch ! was that a signal cry ? " — 
 
98 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 He stammered forth, " I shout to scare 
 
 Yon raven from his dainty fare."' 
 
 He looked — he knew the raven's prey, 
 
 His own brave steed: "Ah! gallant gray! 
 
 For thee — for me, perchance — 't were 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, 500 
 
 Each silent, each upon his guard. 
 
 XXI 
 
 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 tattered weeds and wild array. 
 
 Stood on a cliff beside the way. 
 
 And glancing round her restless eye. 
 
 Upon the wood, the rock, the sky. 
 
 Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy. 5io 
 
 Her brow was wreathed 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. 
 
 Where scarce was footing for the goat. 
 
 The tartan plaid she first descried, 
 
 And shrieked till all the rocks replied; 
 
 As loud she laughed when near they drew. 
 
 For then the Lowland garb she knew; 520 
 
 And then her hands she wildly wrung. 
 
 And then she wept, and then she sung — 
 
CANTO FOURTH 99 
 
 She sung! — the voice, in better time, 
 Perchance to harp or lute might chime; 
 And now, though strained and roughened, still 
 Eung wildly sweet to dale and hill. 
 
 XXII 
 
 SONG 
 
 They bid me sleep, they bid me pray. 
 
 They say my brain is warped 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! 
 
 'T was thus my hair they bade me braid. 
 They made me to the church repair; 
 
 It was my bridal morn they said, 
 
 And my true love would meet me there. 
 
 But woe betide the cruel guile 
 
 That drowned in blood the morning smile! 
 
 And woe betide the fairy dream! 
 
 I only waked to sob and scream. 
 
 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, 
 Bv twilight, o'er a haunted spring." 
 
100 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 " 'T is Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said, 
 
 " A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 
 
 Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, ^'^ 
 
 When Roderick forayed Devan-side. 
 
 The gay bridegroom resistance made. 
 
 And felt our Chief's unconquered 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 strik'st her but one blow, 
 
 I '11 pitch thee from the cliff as far 
 
 As ever peasant pitched a bar ! " 
 
 " Thanks, champion, thanks ! " the Maniac cried, 5«o 
 
 And pressed her to Fitz-James's side. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 And then shall his detested plaid. 
 
 By bush and brier in mid-air stayed. 
 
 Wave forth a banner fair and free, 570 
 
 Meet signal for their revelry." 
 
 XXIV 
 
 " Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still ! " 
 " ! 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! 
 
CANTO FOURTH 101 
 
 580 His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, 
 
 And so blithely he trilled 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 turned it on the Knight, and then 
 Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. 
 
 XXV 
 
 590 " The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set,- 
 Ever sing merrily, merrily; 
 The bows they bend, and the knives they whet. 
 Hunters live so cheerily. 
 
 " It was a stag, a stag of ten, 
 
 Bearing its 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; 
 600 She warned him of the toils below, 
 0, 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." 
 10 
 
102 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXVI 
 
 610 
 
 Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed. 
 
 When Ellen's hints and fears were lost; 
 
 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 hlade 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 thrilled 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, 620 
 
 The fierce avenger is behind ! 
 
 Fate judges of the rapid strife — 
 
 The forfeit death — the prize is life; 
 
 Thy kindred ambush lies before. 
 
 Close couched upon the heathery moor; 
 
 Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not be — 
 
 Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see. 
 
 The fiery Saxon gains on thee! — 
 
 Eesistless speeds the deadly thrust. 
 
 As lightning strikes the pine to dust; eso 
 
 With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain 
 
 Ere he can win his hlade again. 
 
 Bent o'er the fallen with falcon eye. 
 
 He grimly smiled to see him die, 
 
 Then slower wended back his way. 
 
 Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 
 
CANTO FOURTH 103 
 
 XXVII 
 
 She sat beneath the birchen tree. 
 Her elbow resting on her knee; 
 She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, 
 
 640 And gazed on it, and feebly laughed; 
 
 Her wreath of broom and feathers gray. 
 Daggled with blood, beside her lay. 
 The Knight to stanch 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, 
 
 650 And something tells me in thine eye 
 That thou wert mine avenger born. 
 Seest thou this tress ? — 0, 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 dimmed its shine. 
 I will not tell thee when 't was shred. 
 Nor from what guiltless victim's head, — 
 My brain would turn! — but it shall wave 
 
 600 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 ! — 
 0, by thy knighthood's honored sign. 
 And for thy life preserved by mine. 
 When thou shalt see a darksome man. 
 Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan, 
 
104 THE LADY OF THE LAKE • 
 
 With tartans broad and shadowy plume. 
 
 And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, 670 
 
 Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, 
 
 And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong ! — 
 
 They watch for thee by pass and fell . . . 
 
 Avoid the path . . . OGod! . . . farewell." 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James; 
 
 Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims; 
 
 And now, with mingled grief and ire. 
 
 He saw the murdered maid expire, 
 
 " God, in my need, be my relief, 
 
 As I wreak this on yonder Chief ! " eso 
 
 A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 
 
 He blended with her bridegroom's hair; 
 
 The mingled braid in blood he dyed. 
 
 And placed it on his bonnet-side: 
 
 " By Him whose w^ord is truth, I swear. 
 
 No other favor will I wear, 
 
 Till this sad token I imbrue 
 
 In the best blood of Eoderick Dhu ! — 
 
 But hark! what means yon faint halloo? 
 
 The chase is up, — but they shall know, 6S)0 
 
 The stag at bay 's a dangerous foe." 
 
 Barred 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 turned back. 
 
 Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length, 
 
 From lack of food and loss of strength. 
 
 He couched him in a thicket hoar, 
 
 And thought his toils and perils o'er: — 
 
CANTO FOURTH 105 
 
 700 • " Of all my rash adventures past, 
 
 This frantic feat must prove the last ! 
 Who e'er so mad but might have guessed 
 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: 
 
 no I 'II couch me here till evening gray. 
 Then darkling try my dangerous way." 
 
 XXIX 
 
 The shades of eve come slowly down. 
 The woods are wrapt 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. 
 
 720 With cautious step and ear awake, 
 
 He climbs the crag and threads the brake; 
 And not the summer solstice there 
 Tempered the midnight mountain air, 
 But every breeze that swept the wold 
 Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. 
 In dread, in danger, and alone, 
 Famished and chilled, through ways unknown, 
 Tangled and steep, he journeyed on; 
 Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, 
 
 730 A watch-fire close before him burned. 
 
106 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXX 
 
 Beside its embers red and clear. 
 
 Basked in his plaid a mountaineer; 
 
 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 chilled my limbs with frost." 
 
 " Art thou a friend to Eoderiek ? " " No." 
 
 " Thou dar'st not call thyself a foe ? " 740 
 
 " 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 recked, where, how, or when. 
 
 The prowling fox was trapped or slain ? 
 
 Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie, 
 
 Who say thou cam'st a secret spy ! " — 750 
 
 " They do, by heaven ! — come Eoderiek 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." 
 
 "Enough, enough; sit down and share 
 
 A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." 7eo 
 
 XXXI 
 
 He gave him of his Highland cheer, 
 The hardened flesh of mountain deer; 
 
CANTO FOURTH 107 
 
 Dry fuel on the fire he laid. 
 
 And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 
 
 He tended him like welcome guest, 
 
 Then thus his further speech addressed: — 
 
 " Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu 
 
 A clansman born, a kinsman true; 
 
 Each word against his honor spoke 
 
 770 Demands of me avenging stroke; 
 
 Yet more, — upon thy fate, 't is 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 honor's laws; 
 To assail a wearied man were shame, 
 
 TOO And stranger is a holy name; 
 
 Guidance and rest, and food and fire, 
 
 In vain he never must require. 
 
 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, 
 
 7i»o As freely as 't is nobly given ! " 
 
 " Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry 
 Sings us the lake's wild lullaby." 
 With that he shook the gathered 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. 
 
CANTO FIFTH 
 
 THE COMBAT 
 
 Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, 
 
 When first, by the bewildered 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. 
 Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow 
 of War. 
 
 II 
 
 That early beam, so fair and sheen, lo 
 
 Was twinkling through the hazel screen. 
 
so 
 
 CANTO FIFTH 109 
 
 When, rousing at its glimmer red. 
 The warriors left their lowly bed. 
 Looked out upon the dappled sky, 
 Muttered their soldier matins by, 
 And then awaked their fire, to steal. 
 As short and rude, their 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 path! — 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 sky; 
 Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance 
 Gained not the length of horseman's lance. 
 'T was 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! 
 
 Ill 
 
 At length they came where, stern and steep. 
 The hill sinks down upon the deep. 
 Here Vennachar in silver flows, 
 There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose; 
 40 Ever the hollow path twined on, 
 
 Beneath steep bank and threatening stone; 
 A hundred men might hold the post 
 With hardihood against a host. 
 
110 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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, 60 
 
 Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill; 
 
 And oft both path and hill were torn, 
 
 Where wintry torrent down had borne. 
 
 And heaped upon the cumbered 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 asked Fitz-James by what strange cause 
 
 He sought these wilds, traversed by few, eo 
 
 Without a pass from Eoderick Dhu. 
 
 IV 
 
 " Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried. 
 
 Hangs in my belt and by my side ; 
 
 Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said, 
 
 " I dreamt not now to claim its aid. 
 
 When here, but three days since, I came, 
 
 Bewildered in pursuit of game. 
 
 All seemed as peaceful and as still 
 
 As the mist slumbering on yon hill; 
 
 Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, 'o 
 
 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 ! — 
 
CANTO FIFTH 111 
 
 Moves our free course by such fixed cause 
 As gives the poor meciianic laws? 
 Enough, I souglit to drive away 
 The lazy hours of peaceful day; 
 80 Slight cause will then suffice to guide 
 
 A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — 
 A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed. 
 The merry glance of mountain maid; 
 Or, if a path be dangerous known. 
 The danger's self is lure alone." 
 
 "Thy secret keep, I urge thee not; — 
 Yet, ere again ye sought this spot. 
 Say, heard ye naught of Lowland war, 
 Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar ? " 
 " No, by my word ; — of bands prepared 
 To guard King James's sports I heard ; 
 'Not doubt I aught, but, when they hear 
 This muster of the mountaineer, 
 Their pennons will abroad be flung. 
 Which else in Doune had peaceful hung," 
 " Free be they flung ! for we were loath 
 Their silken folds should feast the moth. 
 Free be they flung! — as free shall wave 
 Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave. 
 100 But, stranger, peaceful since you came. 
 Bewildered in the mountain-game. 
 Whence the bold boast by which you show 
 Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe ? " 
 " Warrior, but yester-morn I knew 
 Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 
 Save as an outlawed desperate man, 
 The chief of a rebellious clan, 
 
 90 
 
112 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Who, in the Eegent's court and sight. 
 
 With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight; 
 
 Yet this alone might from his part ^^^ 
 
 Sever each true and loyal heart." 
 
 VI 
 
 Wrathful at such arraignment foul, 
 
 Dark lowered 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 Eoderick's vengeance on his foe? 
 
 What recked the Chieftain if he stood 
 
 On Highland heath or Holy-Eood? 
 
 He rights such wrong where it is given, ^20 
 
 If it were in the court of heaven." 
 
 " Still was it outrage; — yet, 't is true, 
 
 Not then claimed sovereignty his due; 
 
 While Albany with feeble hand 
 
 Held borrowed truncheon of command, 
 
 The young King, mewed in Stirling tower. 
 
 Was stranger to respect and power. 
 
 But then, thy Chieftain's robber life! — 
 
 Winning mean prey by causeless strife, 
 
 Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain lao 
 
 His herds and harvest reared in vain, — 
 
 Methinks a soul like thine should scorn 
 
 The spoils from such foul foray borne." 
 
 VII 
 
 The Gael beheld him grim the while. 
 And answered with disdainful smile: 
 " Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
 I marked thee send delighted eye 
 
CANTO FIFTH 113 
 
 Far to the south and east, where lay. 
 Extended in succession ga}', 
 
 140 Deep wa\dng fields and pastures green, 
 
 With gentle slopes and groves between: — 
 These fertile plains, that softened 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 fattened steer or household bread, 
 
 150 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? 
 
 160 Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain 
 The Saxon rears one shock of grain, 
 While of ten 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 Eoderick Dhu." 
 
 VIII 
 
 170 Answered Fitz-James : " And, if I sought, 
 Think'st thou no other could be brought ? 
 
114 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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 strayed, 
 
 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, iso 
 
 Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed 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. 
 
 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, i^" 
 
 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 answered from the hill; 
 
 Wild as the scream of the curlew. 
 
 From crag to crag the signal flew. 
 
 Instant, through copse and heath, arose 200 
 
 Bonnets and spears and bended bows; 
 
 On right, on left, above, below. 
 
 Sprung up at once the lurking foe; 
 
CANTO FIFTH 115 
 
 From shingles gray their lances start, 
 
 The bracken bush sends forth the dart, 
 
 The rushes and the willow-wand 
 
 Are bristling into axe and brand, 
 
 And every tuft of broom gives life 
 
 To plaided warrior armed for strife. 
 210 That whistle garrisoned 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 M'hose threatening mass 
 
 Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass. 
 
 As if an infant's touch could urge 
 
 Their headlong passage down the verge, 
 230 With step and weapon forward flung. 
 
 Upon the mountain-side they hung. 
 
 The Mountaineer cast glance of pride 
 
 Along Benledi's living side. 
 
 Then fixed 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 thrilled with sudden start, 
 230 He manned himself with dauntless air, 
 Eeturned the Chief his haughty stare, 
 His back against a rock he bore, 
 And firmly placed his foot before: — 
 " Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 
 From its firm base as soon as I." 
 
lie THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Sir Eoderick marked, — and in his eyes 
 
 Eespect was mingled with surprise, 
 
 And the stern joy which warriors feel 
 
 In focman Avorthy of their steel. 
 
 Short space he stood — then waved his hand : 240 
 
 Down sunk the disappearing band; 
 
 Each warrior vanished where he stood, 
 
 In broom or bracken, heath or wood; 
 
 Sunk brand and spear and bended bow. 
 
 In osiers pale and copses low; 
 
 It seemed as if their mother Earth 
 
 Had swallowed up her warlike birth. 
 
 The wind's last breath had tossed in air 
 
 Pennon and plaid and plumage fair, — 
 
 The next but swept a lone hill-side, 250 
 
 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 looked round, — yet scarce believed 
 
 The witness that his sight received; 
 
 Such apparition well might seem 
 
 Delusion of a dreadful dream. 
 
 Sir Eoderick in suspense he eyed, sco 
 
 And to his look the Chief replied: 
 
 " Fear naught — 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. 
 
CANTO FIFTH 117 
 
 Though on our strife lay every vale 
 Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 
 
 270 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 tempered flood, 
 As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 
 That seeming lonesome pathway through, 
 
 280 Which yet by fearful proof was rife 
 With lances, that, to take his life. 
 Waited but signal from a guide. 
 So late dishonored and defied. 
 Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 
 The vanished 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. 
 
 200 ISTor 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 bush of broom was near. 
 To hide a bonnet or a spear. 
 
 XII 
 
 The Chief in silence strode before, 
 And reached that torrent's sounding shore. 
 Which, daughter of three mighty lakes. 
 From Vennachar in silver breaks. 
 
118 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Sweeps through the phiin, and ceaseless mines 300 
 
 On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 
 
 Where Eome, the Empress of the world, 
 
 Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. 
 
 And here his course the Chieftain stayed. 
 
 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. 
 
 This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, 
 
 This head of a rebellious clan, sio 
 
 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. 
 
 Armed like th3^self with single brand; 
 
 For this is Coilantogle ford. 
 
 And thou must keep thee with thy sword." 
 
 XIII 
 
 The Saxon paused : " I ne'er delayed, 
 
 When foeman bade me draw my blade; 320 
 
 Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death; 
 
 Yet sure thy fair and generous faith. 
 
 And my deep debt for life preserved, 
 
 A better meed have well deserved: 
 
 Can naught 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 : 330 
 
 * Who spills the foremost foeman's life, 
 
 His party conquers in the strife.' " 
 
CANTO FIFTH 119 
 
 " 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 hath solved her prophecy; 
 Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 
 To James at Stirling let us go, 
 340 When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 
 Or if the King shall not agree 
 To grant thee grace and favor free, 
 I plight mine honor, oath, and word 
 That, to thy native strengths restored, 
 With each advantage shalt thou stand 
 That aids thee now to guard thy land." 
 
 Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye: 
 " Soars thy presumption, then, so high, 
 Because a wretched kern ye slew, 
 
 350 Homage to name to Roderick Dhu? 
 He yields not, he, to man nor 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, 
 Who ill deserved my courteous care, 
 And whose best boast is but to wear 
 A braid of his fair lady's hair." 
 
 3C0 " 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 ! — 
 
120 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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. 370 
 
 But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt — 
 
 We try this quarrel hilt to hilt." 
 
 Then each at once his falchion drew. 
 
 Each on the ground his scabbard threw. 
 
 Each looked 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 
 
 380 
 
 111 fared it then with Eoderick Dhu, 
 
 That on the field his targe he threw. 
 
 Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
 
 Had death so often dashed aside; 
 
 For, trained 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 maintained unequal war. 
 
 Three times in closing strife the}^ stood. 
 
 And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood; sm 
 
 No stinted draught, no scanty tide. 
 
 The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 
 
 Fierce Eoderick felt the fatal drain. 
 
 And showered his blows like wintry rain; 
 
 And, as firm rock or castle-roof 
 
 Against the winter shower is proof. 
 
CANTO FIFTH 121 
 
 The foe, invulnerable still, 
 Foiled his wild rage by steady skill; 
 Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 
 •400 Forced Eoderick's weapon from his hand, 
 And backward borne npon the lea, 
 Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 
 
 XVI 
 
 " Now jaeld thee, or by Him who made 
 
 The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade ! " 
 
 " Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 
 
 Let recreant yield, who fears to die." 
 
 Like adder darting from his coil, 
 
 liike wolf that dashes through the toil, 
 
 Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 
 
 410 Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung; 
 Received, but recked not of a wound, 
 And locked his arms his foeman round. — 
 Xow, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! 
 Ko 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 compressed, 
 
 420 His knee was planted on his breast; 
 His clotted locks he backward threw. 
 Across his brow his hand he drew, 
 From blood and mist to clear his sight, 
 Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright! 
 But hate and fury ill supplied 
 The stream of life's exhausted tide. 
 And all too late the advantage came, 
 To turn the odds of deadly game: 
 
122 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 For, while the dagger gleamed on high, 
 
 Eeeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. 430 
 
 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; 
 
 TJnwounded from the dreadful close. 
 
 But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 
 
 XVII 
 
 He faltered thanks to Heaven for life, 
 
 Eedeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife; 
 
 Next on his foe his look he cast. 
 
 Whose every gasp appeared his last; 440 
 
 In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid, — 
 
 " Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid; 
 
 Yet with thy foe must die, or live. 
 
 The praise that faith and valor give." 
 
 With that he blew a bugle note. 
 
 Undid the collar from his throat, 
 
 Unbonneted, and by the wave 
 
 Sat down his brow and hands to lave. 
 
 Then faint afar are heard the feet 
 
 Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet; 450 
 
 The sounds increase, and now are seen 
 
 Four mounted squires in Lincoln green; 
 
 Two who bear lance, and two who lead 
 
 By loosened rein a saddled steed; 
 
 Each onward held his headlong course, 
 
 And by Fitz-James reined up his horse, — 
 
 With wonder viewed the bloody spot, — 
 
 "Exclaim not, gallants! question not. — 
 
 You, Herbert and Ijuffness, alight. 
 
 And bind the wounds of yonder knight; 46o 
 
CANTO FIFTH 123 
 
 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 bo boune 
 To see the archer-game at noon; 
 But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — 
 De Vaux and Herries, follow me. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 4~o " Stand, Bayard, stand ! " — the steed obeyed. 
 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 stayed. 
 No grasp upon the saddle laid, 
 But wreathed his left hand in the mane. 
 And lightly bounded from the plain, 
 Turned on the horse his armed heel. 
 And stirred his courage with the steel. 
 Bounded the fiery steed in air. 
 The rider sat erect and fair. 
 Then like a bolt from steel crossbow 
 Forth launched, along the plain they go. 
 They dashed that rapid torrent through. 
 And up Carhonie's hill they flew; 
 Still at the gallop pricked the Knight, 
 His merrymen followed 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 bannered towers of Doune, 
 They sink in distant woodland soon; 
 
 4S0 
 
 490 
 
124 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Blair-Drumniond 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, ^O" 
 
 With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 
 Eight-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 looked down. 
 
 XIX 
 
 As up the flint}' path they strained, 
 
 Sudden his steed the leader reined; 
 
 A signal to his squire he flung, 
 
 Who instant to his stirrup sprung: — 
 
 " Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray, 5io 
 
 Who townward holds the rocky way. 
 
 Of stature tall and poor array ? 
 
 Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride. 
 
 With which he scales the mountain-side? 
 
 Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom ? " 
 
 " Xo, 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 ? 620 
 
 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. 
 
 'T is James of Douglas, by Saint Serle ! 
 
 The uncle of the banished Earl. 
 
CANTO FIFTH 125 
 
 Away, awa3% to court, to show 
 The near approach of dreaded foe : 
 The King must stand upon his guard; 
 530 Douglas and he must meet prepared." 
 
 Then right-hand wheeled 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 climbed the rocky shelf. 
 Held sad communion with himself: — 
 " Yes! all is true my fears could frame; 
 A prisoner lies the noble Grsme, 
 And fiery Eoderick soon will feel 
 
 640 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 pardoned one repining tear ! 
 For He who gave her knows how dear. 
 How excellent! — but that is by. 
 And now my business is — to die. — 
 Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread 
 
 650 A Douglas by his sovereign bled; 
 And thou, sad and fatal mound! 
 That oft hast heard the death-axe sound. 
 As on the noblest of the land 
 Fell the stern 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 ? 
 11 
 
126 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 And see ! upon the crowded street, 
 
 In motley groups what masquers meet! 560 
 
 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; ho 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 '11 follow to the Castle-park, 670 
 
 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 rocked and rung, 
 
 And echoed loud the flinty street 
 
 Beneath the coursers' clattering feet. 
 
 As slowly down the steep descent 
 
 Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, seo 
 
 While all along the crowded way 
 
 AVas jubilee and loud huzza. 
 
 And ever James was bending low 
 
 To his white jennet's saddle-bow. 
 
 Doffing his cap to city dame, 
 
 Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame. 
 
 And well the simperer might be vain, — 
 
 He chose the fairest of the train. 
 
 Gravely he greets each city sire. 
 
 Commends each pageant's quaint attire, 590 
 
CANTO FIFTH 127 
 
 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 thronged peer and knight, 
 And noble dame and damsel bright. 
 Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay 
 Of the steep street and crowded way. 
 But in the train you might discern 
 600 Dark lowering brow and visage stern; 
 
 There nobles mourned their pride restrained, 
 And the mean burgher's joys disdained; 
 And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan. 
 Were each from home a banished man. 
 There thought upon their own gray tower. 
 Their waving woods, their feudal power. 
 And deemed themselves a shameful part 
 Of pageant which they cursed in heart. 
 
 XXII 
 
 Now, in the Castle-park, drew out 
 CIO Their checkered bands the joyous rout. 
 There morricers, with bell at heel 
 And blade in hand, their mazes wheel; 
 But chief, beside the butts, there stand 
 Bold Eobin Hood and all his band, — 
 Friar Tuck with quarterstaff 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, 
 620 In archery to prove their skill. 
 
 The Douglas bent a bow of might, — 
 His first shaft centred in the white, 
 
128 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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; 
 
 Fondly he watched, with watery eye, 
 
 Some answering glance of sympathy, — 
 
 No kind emotion made reply! 
 
 Indifferent as to archer wight, esu 
 
 The monarch gave the arrow bright. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 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 called in vain, for Douglas came. — 
 
 For life is Hugh of Larbert lame; 
 
 Scarce better John of Alloa's fare, 
 
 Whom senseless home his comrades bare. 
 
 Prize of the wrestling match, the King 640 
 
 To Douglas gave a golden ring, 
 
 While coldly glanced his eye of blue. 
 
 As frozen drop of wintry dew. 
 
 Douglas would speak, but in his breast 
 
 His struggling soul his words suppressed; 
 
 Indignant then he turned him where 
 
 Their arms the brawny yeomen bare. 
 
 To hurl the massive bar in air. 
 
 Wlien each his utmost strength had shown. 
 
 The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 650 
 
 From its deep bed, then heaved it high, 
 
 And sent the fragment through the sky 
 
 A rood beyond the farthest mark; 
 
 And still in Stirling's royal park, 
 
660 
 
 CANTO FIFTH 129 
 
 The gray-haired sires, who know the past. 
 To strangers point the Doiighis cast, 
 And moralize on the decay 
 Of Scottish strength in modern day. 
 
 XXIV 
 
 The vale with loud applauses rang, 
 The Ladies' Eock sent back the clang. 
 The King, with look unmoved, bestowed 
 A purse well filled with pieces broad. 
 Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, 
 And threw the gold among the crowd. 
 Who 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 marked and shook the head. 
 To see his hair with silver spread. 
 And winked aside, and told each son 
 Of feats upon the English done, 
 Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 
 Was exiled from his native land. 
 The women praised his stately form. 
 Though wrecked by many a winter's storm; 
 The youth with awe and wonder saw 
 His strength surpassing Nature's law. 
 680 Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd. 
 Till murmurs rose to clamors loud. 
 But not a glance from that proud ring 
 Of peers who circled round the King 
 With Douglas held communion kind, 
 Or called the banished man to mind; 
 No, not from those who at the chase 
 Once held his side the honored place. 
 
 670 
 
700 
 
 130 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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 ! 
 
 XXV 
 
 The Monarch saw the gambols flag, 
 
 And bade let loose a gallant stag. 
 
 Whose pride, the holiday to crown. 
 
 Two favorite greyhounds should pull down. 
 
 That venison free and Bourdeaux wine 
 
 Might serve the archery to dine. 
 
 But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side 
 
 Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide. 
 
 The fleetest hound in all the North, — 
 
 Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. 
 
 She left the royal hounds midway. 
 
 And dashing on the antlered 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, 710 
 
 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 share 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. 
 
CANTO FIFTH 131 
 
 720 His stifled wrath is brimming high, 
 In darkened 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. 
 Such blow no other hand could deal, 
 Though gauntleted in glove of steel. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 Then clamored loud the royal train, 
 And brandished swords and staves amain, 
 
 T30 But stern the Baron's warning : "■ Back ! 
 Back, on your lives, ye menial pack ! 
 Beware the Douglas. — Yes! behold, 
 King James ! The Douglas, doomed 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 : 
 
 740 " Of thy misproud 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 yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, — 
 
 750 " Break off the sports ! " he said and frowned, 
 " And bid our horsemen clear the ground." 
 
132 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXVII 
 
 Then uproar wild and misarray 
 
 Marred the fair form of festal day. 
 
 The horsemen pricked among the crowd, 
 
 Eepelled by threats and insult loud; 
 
 To earth are borne the old and weak, 
 
 The timorous fly, the women shriek; 
 
 With flint, with shaft, with stafi", with bar. 
 
 The hardier urge tumultuous war. 
 
 At once round Douglas darkly sweep ™o 
 
 The royal spears in circle deep, 
 
 And slowly scale the pathway steep. 
 
 While on the rear in thunder pour 
 
 The rabble with disordered roar. 
 
 With grief the noble Douglas saw 
 
 The Commons rise against the law. 
 
 And to the leading soldier said: 
 
 " Sir John of Hyndford, 't was my blade 
 
 That knighthood on thy shoulder laid; 
 
 For that good deed permit me then 770 
 
 A word with these misguided men. — 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 "Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me 
 
 Ye break the bands of fealty. 
 
 My life, my honor, 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 weal so low, 78o 
 
 That, for mean vengeance on a foe. 
 
CANTO FIFTH 133 
 
 Those cords of love I should unbind 
 Which knit my country and my kind ? 
 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, 
 790 ■ 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. 
 let your patience ward such ill, 
 And keep your right to love me still ! " 
 
 XXIX 
 
 The crowd's wild fury sunk again 
 
 In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 
 
 With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed 
 
 For blessings on his generous head 
 800 Who for his country felt alone. 
 
 And prized her blood beyond his own. 
 
 Old men upon the verge of life 
 
 Blessed him who stayed the civil strife; 
 
 And mothers held their babes on high. 
 
 The self-devoted Chief to spy. 
 
 Triumphant over wrongs and ire. 
 
 To whom the prattlers owed a sire. 
 
 Even the rough soldier's heart was moved; 
 
 As if behind some bier beloved, 
 810 With trailing arms and drooping head. 
 
 The Douglas up the hill he led. 
 
 And at the Castle's battled verge. 
 
 With sighs resigned his honored charge. 
 12 
 
134 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXX 
 
 The offended Monarch rode apart, 
 
 With hitter thought and swelling heart. 
 
 And would not now vouchsafe again 
 
 Through Stirling streets to lead his train. 
 
 " Lennox, who would wish to rule 
 
 This changeling crowd, this common fool? 
 
 Hear'st thou," he said, " the loud acclaim ^^o 
 
 With which they shout the Douglas name ? 
 
 With like acclaim the vulgar throat 
 
 Strained for King James their morning note; 
 
 With like acclaim they hailed the day 
 
 When first I hroke 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, 880 
 
 And fickle as a changeful dream; 
 
 Fantastic as a woman's mood, 
 
 And fierce as Frenzy's fevered hlood. 
 
 Thou many-headed monster-thing, 
 
 who would wish to be thy king ? — 
 
 XXXI 
 
 " But soft ! what messenger of speed 
 Spurs hitherward his panting steed? 
 
 1 guess his cognizance afar — 
 
 What from our cousin, John of Mar ? " 
 
 " He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound 840 
 
 Within the safe and guarded ground; 
 
 For some foul purpose yet unknown, — 
 
 Most sure for evil to the throne, — 
 
CANTO FIFTH 135 
 
 The outlawed Chieftain, Eoderick Dhu, 
 Has summoned his rebellious crew; 
 'T is said, in James of Bothwell's aid 
 These loose banditti stand arrayed. 
 The Earl of Mar this morn from Doune 
 To break their muster marched, and soon 
 8B0 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." 
 
 XXXII 
 
 " Thou warn'st me I have done amiss, — 
 I should have earlier looked to this; 
 I lost it in this bustling day. — 
 Eetrace with speed thy former way; 
 Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, 
 The best of mine shall be thy meed. 
 
 860 Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 
 We do forbid the intended war; 
 Eoderick 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 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. 
 
 870 Bear Mar our message, Braco, fly ! " 
 
 He turned 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 spurned. 
 And to his towers the King returned. 
 
136 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 111 with King James's mood that day 
 
 Suited gay feast and minstrel lay; 
 
 Soon were dismissed the courtly throng. 
 
 And soon cut short the festal song. 
 
 Nor less upon the saddened town 
 
 The evening sunk in sorrow down. 
 
 The burghers spoke of civil jar, 
 
 Of rumored feuds and mountain war. 
 
 Of Moray, Mar, and Eoderick Dhu, 
 
 All up in arms; — the Douglas too, 
 
 They mourned him pent within the hold, 
 
 " Where stout Earl William was of old."— 
 
 And there his word the speaker stayed. 
 
 And finger on his lip he laid, 
 
 Or pointed to his dagger blade. 
 
 But jaded horsemen from the west 
 
 At evening to the Castle pressed, 
 
 And busy talkers said they bore 
 
 Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore; 
 
 At noon the deadly fray begun, 
 
 And lasted till the set of sun. 
 
 Thus giddy rumor shook the town, 
 
 Till closed the Night her pennons brown. 
 
 890 
 
CANTO SIXTH 
 
 THE GUAED-KOOM 
 
 The sun, awakening, through the smoky air 
 
 Of the dark city casts 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. 
 
138 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 What various scenes, and 0, what scenes of woe, lo 
 
 Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam! 
 The fevered patient, from his pallet low, 
 
 Through crowded hospital beholds it stream; 
 The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam, 
 
 The debtor wakes to thought of gyve 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. 
 
 n 
 
 At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 
 
 With soldier-step and weapon-clang, 20 
 
 While drums with rolling note foretell 
 
 Eelief to weary sentinel. 
 
 Through narrow loop and casement barred, 
 
 The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, 
 
 And, struggling with the smoky air. 
 
 Deadened the torches' yellow glare. 
 
 In comfortless alliance shone 
 
 The lights through arch of blackened stone. 
 
 And showed wild shapes in garb of war. 
 
 Faces deformed with beard and scar, 30 
 
 All haggard from the midnight watch. 
 
 And fevered with the stern debauch; 
 
 For the oak table's massive board. 
 
 Flooded with wine, with fragments stored. 
 
 And beakers drained, and cups o'erthrown. 
 
 Showed in what sport the night had flown. 
 
 Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; 
 
 Some labored still their thirst to quench; 
 
 Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands 
 
 O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 40 
 
 While round them, or beside them flung, 
 
 At every step their harness rung. 
 
CANTO SIXTH I39 
 
 III 
 
 These drew not for their fields the sword. 
 Like tenants of a feudal lord, 
 Nor owned 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, 
 
 BO 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 laborer's toil ; 
 Their rolls showed French and German name; 
 And merry England's exiles came, 
 To share, with ill-concealed disdain, 
 Of Scotland^ pay the scanty gain. 
 All brave in arms, well trained to wield 
 
 60 The heavy halberd, brand, and shield; 
 In camps licentious, wild, and bold; 
 In pillage fierce and uncontrolled; 
 And now, by holy'tide and feast. 
 From rules of discipline released. 
 
 IV 
 
 They held debate of bloody fray, 
 Fought 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achray, 
 Fierce was their speech, and mid their words 
 Their hands oft grappled to their swords; 
 Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear 
 70 Of wounded comrades groaning near, 
 
 Whose mangled limbs and bodies gored 
 Bore token of the mountain sword. 
 
140 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard, 
 
 Their prayers and feverish wails were 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, so 
 
 In host a hardy mutineer, 
 
 But still the boldest of the crew 
 
 When deed of danger was to do. 
 
 He grieved that day their games cut short. 
 
 And marred the dicer's brawling sport, 
 
 And shouted loud, " Eenew the bowl! 
 
 And, while a merry catch I troll. 
 
 Let each the buxom chorus bear. 
 
 Like brethren of the brand and spear." 
 
 VI 
 
 The warder's challenge, heard without. 
 
 Stayed 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 scarred. 
 
 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 roared: — "I only know, ^^o 
 
 From noon till eve we fought with foe. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 141 
 
 As wild and as untamable 
 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 ! 
 130 Get thee an ape, and trudge the land. 
 The leader of a juggler band/^ 
 
 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. — " 
 
 140 " 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 '11 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, 
 
 150 Laid hand upon his dagger-knife; 
 But Ellen boldly stepped between. 
 And dropped at once the tartan screen: — 
 
142 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 So, from his morning cloud, appears 
 
 The sun of May through summer tears. 
 
 The savage soldiery, amazed. 
 
 As on descended angel gazed; 
 
 Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed. 
 
 Stood half admiring, half ashamed. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Boldly she spoke: "Soldiers, attend! 
 
 My father was the soldier's friend, i^o 
 
 Cheered him in camps, in marches led. 
 
 And with him in the battle bled. 
 
 Not from the valiant or the strong 
 
 Should exile's daughter suffer wrong." 
 
 Answered De Brent, most forward still 
 
 In every feat or good or ill : 
 
 " I shame me of the part I played ; 
 
 And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid! 
 
 An outlaw I by forest laws, 
 
 And merry Needwood knows the cause. I'^'O 
 
 Poor Eose, — if Eose be living now/' — 
 
 He wiped his iron eye and brow, — 
 
 " Must 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; 
 
 y§ all know John de Brent. Enough." 
 
 IX 
 
 Their Captain came, a gallant young, — 
 Of Tullibardine's house he sprung, — 
 
 ISO 
 
CANTO SIXTH 143 
 
 Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight; 
 Gay was his mien, his humor light, 
 And, though by courtesy controlled, 
 Forward his speech, his bearing bold. 
 The high-born maiden ill could brook 
 The scanning of his curious look 
 
 190 And dauntless eye : — and yet, in sooth. 
 Young Lewis was a generous youth ; 
 But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 
 111 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? 
 
 200 Does thy high quest a knight require, 
 Or may the venture suit a squire ? " 
 Her dark eye flashed; — she paused and sighed: — 
 " 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, 
 The royal pledge of grateful claims. 
 Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James.'* 
 
 210 The signet-ring young Lewis took 
 With deep respect and altered look. 
 And said : " This ring our duties own ; 
 And pardon, if to worth unknown, 
 In semblance mean obscurely veiled. 
 Lady, in aught my folly failed. 
 
144 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Soon as the day flings wide liis gates, 
 
 The King shall know what suitor waits. 
 
 Please you meanwhile in fitting bower 
 
 Eepose you till his waking hour; 
 
 Female attendance shall obey 220 
 
 Your best, for service or array. 
 
 Permit I marshal you the way." 
 
 But, ere she followed, 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 profl^ered gold : — 230 
 
 " Forgive a haughty English heart, 
 
 And 0, forget its ruder part ! 
 
 The vacant purse shall be my share. 
 
 Which in my barret-cap I '11 bear, 
 
 Perchance, in jeopardy of war. 
 
 Where gayer crests may keep afar." 
 
 With thanks — 't was all she could — the maid 
 
 His rugged courtesy repaid. 
 
 XI 
 
 When Ellen forth with Lewis went, 
 
 Allan made suit to John of Brent : — 240 
 
 " 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. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 145 
 
 With the Chief's birth begins our care; 
 250 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. 
 
 Then let me share his captive lot; 
 
 It is my right, — deny it not ! " 
 
 " Little we reck," said John of Brent, 
 260 " We Southern men, of long descent ; 
 
 jSTor 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 laboring steer, 
 
 I had not dwelt an outcast here. 
 
 Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ; 
 
 Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see." 
 
 XII 
 
 370 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, 
 
 280 By artists formed who deemed it shame 
 And sin to give their work a name. 
 
146 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 They halted at a low-browed porch. 
 
 And Brent to Allan gave the torch, 
 
 While bolt and chain he backward rolled. 
 
 And made the bar unhasp its hold. 
 
 They entered : — 't was 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 290 
 
 Decked the sad walls and oaken floor. 
 
 Such as the rugged days of old 
 
 Deemed 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." 
 
 Eetiring then the bolt he drew. 
 
 And the lock's murmurs growled anew. 
 
 Eoused at the sound, from lowly bed soo 
 
 A captive feebly raised his head; 
 
 The wondering Minstrel looked, and knew — 
 
 Not his dear lord, but Eoderick Dim ! 
 
 For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought. 
 
 They, erring, deemed the Chief he sought. 
 
 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 ! sio 
 
 And oft his fevered limbs he threw 
 In toss abrupt, as when her sides 
 Lie rocking in the advancing tides. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 147 
 
 That shake her frame with ceaseless beat. 
 Yet cannot heave her from her seat; — 
 0, 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 ? — 
 
 320 My mother ? — Douglas ? — tell me all ! 
 Have they been ruined 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, 
 
 330 " Ellen is safe ! " " For that thank Heaven ! " 
 " And hopes are for the Douglas given; — 
 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 reared his form on high. 
 And fever's fire was in his eye; 
 340 But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 
 
 Checkered his swarthy brow and cheeks. 
 " Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee plaj^. 
 With measure bold on festal day. 
 In yon lone isle, — again where ne'er 
 Shall harper play or warrior hear ! — 
 
14S THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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, ^so 
 
 When met my clan the Saxon might. 
 
 I '11 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. 
 
 And my free spirit burst away, 
 
 As if it soared from battle fray.'' 
 
 The trembling Bard with awe obeyed, — 
 
 Slow on the harp his hand he laid; 
 
 But soon remembrance of the sight 36o 
 
 He witnessed from the mountain's height. 
 
 With what old Bertram told at night, 
 
 Awakened 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. 
 
 XV 
 
 BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINE 
 
 " The Minstrel came once more to view 
 
 The eastern ridge of Benvenue, 370 
 
 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! — 
 
CANTO SIXTH 149 
 
 There is no breeze upon the fern, 
 
 No ripple on the lake. 
 Upon her eyry nods the erne, 
 
 The deer has sought the brake; 
 The small birds will not sing aloud, 
 880 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, 
 390 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 war. 
 That up the lake comes winding far ! 
 To hero boune for battle-strife. 
 
 Or bard of martial lay, 
 'T were worth ten years of peaceful life. 
 One glance at their array ! 
 
 XVI 
 
 400 " Their light-armed archers far and near 
 
 Surveyed the tangled ground. 
 Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 
 
 A twilight forest frowned, 
 Their barded horsemen in the rear 
 
 The stern battalia crowned. 
 No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang. 
 
 Still were the pipe and drum; 
 
150 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Save heavy tread, and armor's clang, 
 
 The sullen march was dumb. 
 There breathed no wind their crests to shake, ^^^. 
 
 Or wave their flags abroad ; 
 Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake. 
 
 That shadowed o'er their, road. 
 Their vaward scouts no tidings bring. 
 
 Can rouse no lurking foe, 
 Nor spy a trace of living thing. 
 
 Save when they stirred the roe; 
 The host moves like a deep-sea wave. 
 Where rise no rocks its pride to brave. 
 
 High-swelling, dark, and slow. *20 
 
 The lake is passed, 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. 
 
 XVII 
 
 " At once there rose so wild a yell 
 Within that dark and narrow dell. 
 As all the fiends from heaven that fell 
 Had pealed the banner-cry of hell ! 430 
 
 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 sky. 
 
 Are maddening in the rear. 
 Onward they drive in dreadful race. 
 
 Pursuers and pursued; 440 
 
CANTO SIXTH 151 
 
 Before that tide of flight and chase, 
 How shall it keep its rooted place, 
 
 The spearmen's twilight wood ? — 
 ' Down, down,' cried Mar, ' 3^our lances down ! 
 
 Bear back both friend and foe ! '— 
 Like reeds before the tempest's frown. 
 That serried grove of lances brown 
 
 At once lay levelled low; 
 And closely shouldering side to side, 
 450 The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 
 ' We '11 quell the savage mountaineer. 
 
 As their Tinchel cows the game ! 
 They come as fleet as forest deer. 
 
 We '11 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 , 
 460 \Yas 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 hurled 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 wheeled his rearward rank 
 470 Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank, — 
 
 ' My banner-man, advance ! 
 I see,' he cried, ' their column shake. 
 Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake, 
 
 LTpon them with the lance ! ' — 
 
-152 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 The horsemen dashed among the rout, 
 
 As deer break through the broom; 
 Their steeds are stout, their swords are out. 
 
 They soon make lightsome room. 
 Clan-Alpine's best are backward borne — 
 
 Where, where was EoderieJc then ! 48o 
 
 One blast upon his bugle-horn 
 
 Were worth a thousand men. 
 And refluent through the pass of fear 
 
 The battle's tide was poured; 
 Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, 
 
 Vanished the mountain-sword. 
 As Braeklinn's chasm, so black and steep, 
 
 Eeceives her roaring linn. 
 As the dark caverns of the deep 
 
 Suck the wild whirlpool in, 49o 
 
 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. BW* 
 
 Gray Benvenue I soon repassed. 
 
 Loch Katrine lay beneath me 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; 
 
CANTO SIXTH 153 
 
 Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
 Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. 
 I heeded not the eddying surge, 
 510 Mine eye but saw the Trosaehs' gorge. 
 Mine ear but heard that 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 toil 
 The dirge of many a passing soul. 
 Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen 
 The martial flood disgorged again, 
 But not in mingled tide; 
 520 The plaided warriors of the North 
 
 High on the mountain thunder forth 
 
 And overhang its side, 
 While by the lake below appears 
 The darkening cloud of Saxon spears. 
 At weary bay each shattered band, 
 Eying their foemen, sternly stand; 
 Their banners stream like tattered sail. 
 That flings its fragments to the gale, 
 And broken arms and disarray 
 530 Marked 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: 
 'T is there of yore the robber band 
 
 Their booty wont to pile; — 
 
154 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 My purse, with bonnet-pieces store. 
 
 To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, ^'^ 
 
 And loose a shallop from the shore. 
 
 Lightly we '11 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 corselet rung. 
 
 He plunged him in the wave : — 
 All saw the deed, — the purpose knew. 
 And to their clamors Benvenue 
 
 A mingled echo gave; 
 The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 650 
 
 The helpless females scream for fear. 
 And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
 'T was then, as by the outcry riven, 
 Poured down at once the lowering heaven. 
 A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast. 
 Her billows reared their snowy crest. 
 Well for the swimmer swelled they high, 
 To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; 
 For round him showered, mid rain and hail. 
 The vengeful arrows of the Gael. 56o 
 
 In vain. — He ncars 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 marked Duncraggan's widowed dame. 
 Behind an oak I saw her stand, 
 A naked dirk gleamed in her hand : — 
 It darkened, — but amid the moan 
 Of waves I heard a dying groan; — 
 Another flash ! — the spearman floats 570 
 
 A weltering corse beside the boats. 
 And the stern matron o'er him stood, 
 Her hand and dagger streaming blood. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 155 
 
 XXI 
 
 " ' Revenge ! revenge ! ' the Saxons cried, 
 
 The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 
 
 Despite the elemental rage, 
 
 Again they hurried to engage; 
 
 But, ere they closed in desperate fight. 
 
 Bloody with spurring came a knight, 
 580 Sprung from his horse, and from a crag 
 
 Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. 
 
 Clarion and trumpet by his side 
 
 Eung forth a truce-note high and wide, 
 
 While, in the Monarch's name, afar 
 
 A herald's voice forbade the war. 
 
 For BothwelFs 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! 
 590 Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 
 
 How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy: 
 
 x4t first, the Chieftain, to the chime. 
 
 With lifted hand kept feeble time ; 
 
 That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 
 
 A'^aried his look as changed the song; 
 
 At length, no more his deafened ear 
 
 The minstrel melody can hear; 
 
 His face grows sharp, — his hands are clenched, 
 
 As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched; 
 6U0 Set are his teeth, his fading eye 
 
 Is sternly fixed on vacancy; 
 
 Thus, motionless and moanless, drew 
 
 His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu! — 
 
 Old Allan-bane looked on aghast, 
 
 While grim and still his spirit passed; 
 
 But when he saw that life was fled. 
 
 He poured his wailing o'er the dead. 
 
156 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXII 
 
 LAMENT 
 
 " And art thou cold and lowly laid, 
 
 Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 
 
 Breadalbane's boast, Clan- Alpine's shade! w^* 
 
 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 '11 wail for Alpine's honored 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, 620 
 
 Thy fall before the race was won, 
 
 Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun! 
 
 There breathes not clansman of thy line. 
 
 But would have given his life for thine. 
 
 0, woe for Alpine's honored Pine ! 
 
 " Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — 
 
 The captive thrush may brook the cage, 
 
 The prisoned eagle dies for rage. 
 
 Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain! 
 
 And, when its notes awake again, 630 
 
 Even she, so long beloved in vain. 
 
 Shall with my harp her voice combine. 
 
 And mix her woe and tears with mine. 
 
 To wail Clan-Alpine's honored Pine." 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Ellen the while, with bursting heart, 
 Rerriained in lordly bower.apart. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 157 
 
 Where played, with many-colored gleams. 
 
 Through storied pane the rising beams. 
 
 In vain on gilded roof they fall. 
 
 And lightened 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 looked, 't was but to say. 
 
 With better omen dawned the day 
 
 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 Lufra, crouching by her side. 
 
 Her station claimed 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 betrayed. 
 
 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 with cautious tread. 
 
 What distant music has the power 
 
 To win her in this woful hour ? 
 
 'T was 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. 
 13 
 
158 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 I wish I were as I have been. 
 
 Hunting the hart in forest green, er,o 
 
 With bended bow and bloodhound free. 
 
 For that 's the life 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. 680 
 
 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 listener had not turned her head, 690 
 
 It trickled still, the starting tear, 
 
 When light a footstep struck her ear, 
 
 And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near. 
 
 She turned the hastier, lest again 
 
 The prisoner should renew his strain. 
 
 "0 welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said; 
 
 " How may an almost orphan maid 
 
 Pay the deep debt — " " say not so ! 
 
 To me no gratitude you owe. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 159 
 
 700 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 lay his better mood aside. 
 
 Come, Ellen, come! 't is more than time. 
 
 He holds his court at morning prime." 
 
 With beating heart, and bosom wrung. 
 
 As to a brother's arm she clung. 
 '^^'^ Gently he dried the falling tear, 
 
 And gently whispered hope and cheer; 
 
 Her faltering steps half led, half stayed. 
 
 Through gallery fair and high arcade, 
 
 Till at his touch its wings of pride 
 
 A portal arch unfolded wide. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 Within 't was brilliant all and light, 
 
 A thronging scene of figures bright; 
 
 It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight, 
 
 As when the setting sun has given 
 720 Ten thousand hues to summer even. 
 
 And from their tissue fancy frames 
 
 Aerial knights and fairy dames. 
 
 Still by Fitz- James her footing staid; 
 
 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 owned this state. 
 
 The dreaded Prince whose will was fate! — 
 
 She gazed on many a princely port 
 T30 Might well have ruled a royal court; 
 
 On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 
 
 Then turned bewildered and amazed. 
 
160 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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 King! '^o 
 
 XXVII 
 
 As wreath of snow on mountain-breast 
 
 Slides from the rock that gave it rest. 
 
 Poor Ellen glided from her stay, 
 
 And at the Monarch's feet she lay; 
 
 No word her choking voice commands, — 
 
 She showed the ring, — she clasped her hands. 
 
 0, not a moment could he brook. 
 
 The generous Prince, that suppliant look! 
 
 Gently he raised her, — and, the while. 
 
 Checked with a glance the circle's smile; 760 
 
 Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, 
 
 And bade her terrors be dismissed : — 
 
 " 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 naught for Douglas; — yester even, 
 
 His Prince and he have much forgiven ; 
 
 Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 
 
 1, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 7go 
 We would not, to the vulgar crowd, 
 
 Yield what they craved with clamor loud; 
 Calmly we heard and judged his cause, 
 Our council aided and our laws. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 161 
 
 I stanched thy father's death-feud stern 
 With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn ; 
 And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own 
 The friend and bulwark of our throne. — 
 But, lovely infidel, how now? 
 770 What clouds thy misbelieving brow ? 
 
 Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid; 
 Thou must confirm this doubting maid." 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 Then forth 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 
 
 780 On nature's raptures long should pry ; 
 
 He stepped between — " Nay, Douglas, nay. 
 
 Steal not my proselyte away ! 
 
 The riddle 't is 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, 
 
 'T is under name which veils my power, 
 
 Nor falsely veils, — for Stirling's tower 
 
 Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, 
 
 790 And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 
 Thus watch I o'er insulted laws. 
 Thus learn to right the injured cause." 
 Then, in a tone apart and low, — 
 "Ah, little traitress! none must know 
 What idle dream, what lighter thought. 
 What vanity full dearly bought, 
 
162 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 
 
 My spell-bound steps to Benvenue 
 
 In dangerous hour, and all but gave 
 
 Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive ! aoo 
 
 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 guessed 
 
 He probed the weakness of her breast; 
 
 But with that consciousness there came 
 
 A lightening of her fears for Graeme, 
 
 And more she deemed the Monarch's ire 
 
 Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire 810 
 
 Eebellious 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; — 
 
 My fairest earldom would I give 
 
 To bid Clan- Alpine's Chieftain live! — 
 
 Hast thou no other boon to crave ? sso 
 
 No other captive friend to save ? " 
 
 Blushing, she turned her from the King, 
 
 And to the Douglas gave the ring, 
 
 As if she wished her sire to speak 
 
 The suit that stained her glowing cheek. 
 
 " Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force. 
 
 And stubborn justice holds her course. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 163 
 
 Malcolm, come forth ! " — and, at the word, 
 Down kneeled the Grame to Scotland's Lord. 
 
 830 " For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues. 
 
 From thee may Vengeance claim her dues. 
 Who, nurtured underneath our smile. 
 Hast paid our care by treacherous wile. 
 And sought amid thy faithful clan 
 A refuge for an outlawed man, V 
 
 Dishonoring thus thy loyal name. — ^^ 
 
 Fetters and warder for the Grceme ! " 
 His chain of gold the King unstrung. 
 The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, 
 
 840 Then gently drew the glittering band, 
 
 And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 
 
 Haep 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 the covert wending. 
 Eesume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending. 
 
 And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy ; 
 Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending. 
 
 With distant echo from the fold and lea, 
 850 And herd-boy'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 the world has never known. 
 When on the weary night dawned wearier day. 
 
 And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. — 
 That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own. 
 
164 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Hark ! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, seo 
 
 Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string! 
 'T is now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 
 
 'T is now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. 
 Eeceding 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, 't is silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well ! 
 
NOTES 
 
 CANTO FIRST 
 
 THE CHASE 
 
 Each canto begins with one or more Spenserian stanzas, so called 
 DPcause first used by Edmund Spenser. The Spenserian stanza con- 
 sists of nine lines, the prevailing foot being the iambus (two syllables, 
 with the accent on the second). The first eight lines have five feet 
 (iambic pentameter) ; the ninth line has six feet (iambic hexameter), 
 and is called an Alexandrine. The first and third lines rhyme, the 
 second, fourth, fifth and seventh, and the sixth, eighth and ninth. 
 The metre of the poem proper is iambic tetrameter ; that is, the pre- 
 vailing foot is the iambus, and there are four feet in the line. (See 
 Parson's " English Versification.") 
 
 Line 2 Witch-elm. The drooping broad-leaved elm of Scotland, 
 whose twigs were formerly used as divining-rods. 
 
 Saint Fillan was a famous Scotch saint of the seventh century. 
 
 " Thence to Saint Flllan's blessed well. 
 Whose springs can frenzied dreams dispel. 
 And the crazed brain restore."— Afarmion, 1-29. 
 
 4. Envious ivy. Envious of the musical powers of the harp. 
 
 10. Caledon. Caledonia was the ancient name of Scotland. 
 
 14. According pause. Each pause in the song was filled by the ac- 
 cording music of the harp. 
 
 17. Burden; i.e., the subject. 
 
 20. Thy magic maze. Maze, labyrinth. Applied to the harp on ac- 
 count of the confusing variety of sounds. 
 
 29. Monan's rill. Saint Monan was a Scotch martyr of the fourth 
 century. 
 
 31. Glenartney's. A glen along the Artney River, between Benvoir- 
 lich on the north and Uam-Var on the south. 
 
 14 165 
 
166 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 33. Benvoirlich. Ben is Gaelic for mountain. 
 
 34. Deep-mouthed. Cf. Shakespeare, 1 Henry VI , " Between two 
 dogs, which hath the deeper moutli." 
 
 38-4L As . . . haste. Notice the simile. Have you seen 
 Landseer's picture, " The Monarch of the Glen " ? 
 
 45. Beamed frontlet. Antlered forehead. 
 
 4(>. Adown. A poetic word not permitted in prose. 
 
 63. Uam-Var. An ancient robber stronghold. 
 
 54. Yelled . . . pack. Notice the intensive force of the inversion. 
 
 71. Linn. A cascade or waterfall. 
 
 89. Menteith. The borders of the river Teith. 
 
 93. Lochard. Loch Ard. 
 
 95. Loch Achray. The eastern outlet of the Trosachs Pass. 
 
 115. Scourge and steel. Whip and spur. In sieelior spur {elsewhere 
 for sword) we have material put for the thing,— metonymy. 
 
 120. Saint Hubert's breed. The abbots of Saint Hubert kept some 
 of this black breed in honor of the saint, who was a hunter. 
 
 122. Flying traces. Notice the transferrence of the epithet flying 
 from the stag to the track that he leaves behind him. 
 
 127. Quarry. The hunted animal. 
 
 133. Turn to bay. Turn and face the hounds. 
 
 137. Death-wound. " When the stag turned to bay, the ancient 
 himter had the perilous task of going in upon, and killing or disabling, 
 the desperate animal. At certain times of the year this was held par- 
 ticularly dangerous, a wound received from a stag's horn being then 
 deemed poisonous, and more dangerous than one from the tusks of a 
 boar. ... At all times, however, the task was dangerous, and to 
 be adventured upon wisely and warily, either by getting behind the 
 stag while he was gazing on the hounds, or by watching an opportunity 
 to gallop roundly in upon him, and kill him with the sword." — Scott. 
 
 138. Whinyard. A short sword. Cf. whinger and hanger. 
 142. Turn'd him would be turned himself in prose. 
 
 145. Trosachs, or Tross?chs, means "the rough or bristled territory," 
 especially the pass between Loch Katrine and Loch Vennachar. 
 
 150. Amain. With main force. Cf. might and main. 
 
 163. Banks of Seine. James visited France in 1536. 
 
 166. Woe worth. Woe be to. 
 
 184, etc. Notice the accurate and minute description. " Landscape 
 Painting in Poetry." 
 
 " He sees everything with a painter's eye. Whatever he representg 
 
NOTES 167 
 
 ha8 a character of individuality, and ia drawn with an accuracy and 
 minuteness of discrimination which we are not accustomed to expect 
 from mere verbal description. It is because Mr. Scott usually deline- 
 ates those objects with wliich he is perfectly familiar that his touch 
 is so easy, correct, and animated. The rocks, ravines, and the torrents 
 which he exhibits are not the imperfect sketches of a hurried traveller, 
 but the finished studies of a resident a.Ttiiit."—Qua7-terly Review, May, 
 1810. 
 
 218. Foxglove and nightshade. Mr. Ruskin, in his Modern Painters, 
 III., refers to Scott's habit of draAving a slight moral from every scene 
 — and that this slight moral is almost always melancholy. " He 
 seems to have been constantly rebuking his own worldly pride and 
 vanity, but purposefully." 
 
 254-260. And now . . . won. True until the present road was 
 made. 
 
 2G2. Living gold. "Why living ? Study a photograph of Loch 
 Katrine. 
 
 269. Sentinel enchanted land. Did Scott suspect that he himself was 
 to be the enchanter ? Derivation and history of enchanted. 
 
 274. Wildering. Poetic contraction. 
 
 285. Cloister. Here a monastery, not the inner covered walk. 
 
 302. Beshrew. Curse (mildly). 
 
 317. Fall. Befall, happen. 
 
 319. Wound. Winded would be the better form. 
 
 322. Islet and isle in poetry ; island in prose. 
 
 342. Naiad. Water-nymph. 
 
 377. Confess'd. Bore witness to. Not the modern meaning. 
 
 389. Silent Horn. Silence of the horn; impatient because the horn 
 is silent. 
 
 408. Wont. Are wont, or accustomed. Now obsolete as a verb. 
 
 409. Middle age. .James was only thirty when he died. 
 413. Frolic. The adjective is now /rofesome. 
 
 420. Blade. Sword. A part for the whole,— synecdoche. 
 
 434. Wilder'd. Bewildered ; lost in the wilds, or wilderness. 
 
 441. Mere. Lake. Cf. Windermere. 
 
 443. Rood. Cross; crucifix. 
 
 457. Yesternight. Obsolete ; but we still have fortnight and yester- 
 day. 
 
 464. Lincoln green. Green cloth made in Lincoln. 
 
 475. Errant-Knight. Knight-errant is the correct form now. 
 
168 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 476. Sooth. Here an adjective meaning true. Cf . forsooth, in sooth. 
 
 478. Front. Confront, face. Emprise. Enterprise. 
 
 492. Rocky isle. " It is a little island, but very famous in Romance- 
 land as ' Ellen's Isle' ; for Ellen, as almost everybody knows, was the 
 name of the Lady of the Lake. . . . It is mostly composed of dark 
 gray rocks, mottled with pale and gray lichens, peeping out here and 
 there amid trees that mantle them, . . . chiefly light, graceful 
 birches, intermingled with red-berried mountain ashes, and a few dark- 
 green spiry pines. ... A more poetic, romantic retreat could 
 liardly be imagined ; it is unique. It is completely hidden, not only 
 by the trees, but also by an undergrowth of beautiful and abundant 
 ferns, and the loveliest of heather." — Hunnewell's Lands of Scott. 
 
 504. Here, for retreat. Scott says in a note : " The Celtic chief- 
 tains . . . had usually, in the most retired spot of their domain, 
 some place of retreat ... a tower, a cavern, or a rustic hut in a 
 strong and secluded situation. One of these last gave refuge to the 
 unfortunate Charles Edward, in his perilous wanderings after the bat- 
 tle of CuUoden." 
 
 525. Idsean vine. Id^ean is derived from Mount Ida near Troy. 
 Read the opening stanza of Tennyson's Oenone for the description of 
 the home of another " fay in fairy land." 
 
 528. Plant . . . bear. Ellipsis. Common in Shakespeare. 
 
 545. Trophies. An interesting word. Find its cousins. This whole 
 description might have applied to a room in one of Scott's own resi- 
 dences. 
 
 573. Ferragus or Ascabart (Ascapart). Two fabulous sons of the 
 giant Anak. See Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. 
 
 587. Fellest. Most dreadful. 
 
 591. Snowdoun. Former name for Stirling Castle. 
 
 596. Wot. Knows. We still use " to wit," the noun wit, etc. 
 
 602. Require. Ask, merely, as always in Jllizabethan English. 
 
 622. Harp uaseen. " They (the Highlanders) delight much in music, 
 but chiefly in harps and clairschoes of their own fashion ; the strings 
 of the harps (are made) of sinews. . . . They take great pleasure 
 to deck their hari)s and clairschoes with silver and precious stones." — 
 Scott. 
 
 631. Dewing. Bedewing. 
 
 638. Pibroch. Strictly a highland air, usually played on the bagpipe ; 
 but here it means the bagpipe. 
 
 642. Bittern. A marsh bird ; small heron. 
 
NOTES 169 
 
 646. Here's. Would be here are in prose. 
 
 648. Led the lay. Gave the song a new turn. 
 
 657. Notice the ellipsis of that. Reveille. Awakening. 
 
 664. Ye is properly nominative case, but is used here instead of you 
 for the sake of rhyme. 
 
 672. Not. Not even. 
 
 6t)4, etc. " Such a strange and romantic dream as may be naturally 
 expected to flow from the extraordinary events of the past day. It 
 might, perhaps, be quoted as one of Mr. Scott's most successful efforts 
 in descriptive poetry. Some few lines of it are indeed unrivalled for 
 delicacy and melancholy tenderness." — Critical Review. 
 
 704. Grisly. Horrible, frightful. 
 
 738. Orisons. Prayers. 
 
 740. Told. To tell is to count; e.g., "to tell one's beads." Cf. 
 teller and tally. 
 
 CANTO SECOND 
 
 THE ISLxVND 
 
 1. Jetty. Black as jet. 
 
 7. Uinstrel, "Higldand chieftains, to a late period, retained in their 
 service the bard, as a family officer." — Scott. 
 
 19. High place. Supply 6e after ^/ace. 
 
 37. Main. Principal body of water. Cf. mainland. 
 
 74. Was it a breach of fidelity to Malcolm that Ellen showed some 
 interest in the stranger ? 
 
 86. After should be afterward in prose. After is properly a prepo- 
 sition or a conjunction, but no longer an adverb. 
 
 87. Prize of festal day. Refers to tournaments. 
 
 94. Parts. Departs. Common in our older English. 
 
 109. Greeme. So spelled for the measure. Usually Graham. An 
 ancient and powerful family who held large tracts in the counties of 
 Dumbarton and Stirling. It included Wallace's comrade, Sir John 
 the Graeme, who fell at Falkirk in 1298 ; the Marquis of Montrose, 
 sung by Aytoun ; and Claverhouse, Viscount of Dundee, the hero of 
 Old Mortality. 
 
 115. Martial. Derivation. What month is named from the same 
 source ? 
 
170 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 130. Tuneful fathers. Earlier bards. 
 
 131. Erst. Formerly. 
 
 Saint Modan. One of the numerous Scotch abbots. He lived in the 
 seventh century. 
 
 141. Bothwell's bannered hall. A beautiful ruined castle nine miles 
 above Glasgow on the Clyde. 
 
 142. Ere Douglases to ruin driven, ''The Earl of Angus had mar- 
 ried the queen dowager, and availed himself of the right which he thus 
 acquired, as well as of his extensive power, to retain the king (James 
 V.) 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 valor 
 of the Douglases and their allies gave them the victory in every con- 
 flict. At length the king, while residing at Falkland, contrived to es- 
 cape by night out of his own court and palace, and rode full speed 
 to Stirling Castle, where the governor, who was of the opposite fac- 
 tion, joyfully received him." Scott goes on to tell how James then 
 summoned such peers as were hostile to the Douglas, and they de- 
 cided to call the great earl, his brother and other kin, to appear before 
 a certain day, or be banished. " 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, were 
 banished, and were holden traitors to the king." 
 
 159. From Tweed to Spey. The southern and northern border rivers 
 of Scotland, respectively. 
 
 170. Reave. Tear away. "We still use participle reft. Cf. bereave 
 and hereft. 
 
 200. Bleeding heart. The cognizance of the Douglas, because 
 Robert Bruce, dying, bequeathed his heart to his friend, Lord James 
 Douglas. The story of its adventure with the Moslems is familiar. 
 The heart is now in Melrose Abbey. 
 
 200. Strathspey. A Highland dance. 
 
 214. Loch Lomond. The largest lake in Scotland, about twenty- 
 three miles by five. 
 
 210. Lennox foray. The Lennox family lived south of Loch Lo- 
 mond. This means a foray into their territory. 
 
 220. Black Sir Boderick. Dhu is Gaelic for Black. 
 
 221. Holy-Rood. The royal palace at Edinburgh. 
 
 227-231. This is not an exaggeration. Woe the day— may woe be 
 to the day. 
 
NOTES 171 
 
 235. Guerdon. Reward. 
 
 236. Dispensation. This was necessarj' because Roderick and Ellen 
 were cousins. 
 
 251. Orphan, from its position, would seem to be in apposition to 
 she, but it is in apposition to child. 
 
 271. Save — except when, unless. In prose save is not good either as 
 conjunction or as preposition. 
 
 275, 276. The sword itself would feel more mercy than would 
 Roderick. 
 
 306. Tine-man. " Archibald, the third Earl of Douglas, was so 
 unfortunate in all his enterprises, that he acquired the epithet of Tine- 
 man, because he tiued, or lost, his followers in every battle which he 
 fought." — Scott. 
 
 311. Harbored — taken shelter. Rare as an intransitive verb. 
 
 319. Beltane. A May-day Celtic festival. 
 
 327. Canna. Cotton-grass. 
 
 335. Olengyle. A valley at the upper end of Loch Katrine. 
 
 337. Brianchoil. On the north shore of Loch Katrine. 
 
 340. Pine. The emblem of Clan- Alpine. 
 
 343. Tartans brave. Gay plaids. 
 
 345. Bonnets. Here means men's caps. 
 
 351. Chanters. Pipes of the bagpipes. 
 
 362. Gathering. The tune for summoning the clans to gather to- 
 gether for war. 
 
 368. Battered earth. Why called battered? 
 
 392. Burden. Chorus. 
 
 405. Bourgeon. Bud. 
 
 408. Boderigh Vich Alpine dhu. " Black Roderick, the descendant 
 of Alpine," an epithet belonging to him as the head of the clan. 
 
 Breadalbane. A district between Lochs Lomond and Tay. 
 
 419. Glen Fruin. Southwest of Loch Lomond, and overhung by 
 Bannochar Castle. See next line. 
 
 420. Slogan. War cry. 
 
 421. Glen Lass and Boss-dhu. Valleys near Glen Fruin. 
 423. Saxon. Lowland. 
 
 426. Leven-glen. Toward the Clyde. 
 
 497. Percy's Norman pennon. Captured in the foray which led to 
 the battle of Otterburn, in 1388. See ballads of Chevy Chase. 
 
 504. Waned crescent. An allusion to the author's friends of the 
 
172 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 house of Buccleugh. This family was defeated in its efforts to restore 
 James V. to his power. 
 
 506. Blantyre. A priory near Bothwell Castle. 
 
 541. Ptarmigan. White grouse. 
 
 548. Ben Lomond. The highest mountain near Loch Lomond. 
 
 571, 572. If I were deprived of that gallant pastime, all that I have 
 left of the characteristics of Douglas would be reft from me. 
 
 574, Glenfinlas. " Glen of the green women." 
 
 577. Eoyal ward. Under the guardianship of the king, because 
 without natural guardians and under age. 
 
 578. Bisked. By assisting Douglas, an outlaw. 
 
 582. Spleen. Anger. For the cause of the spleen, see 315-322. 
 
 591. Light — light armed. 
 
 594. Were the news. News is singular now. 
 
 616. In ir)29 .lames swept through Ettrick forest with an army of 
 ten thousand men, and " tamed the Border-side." 
 
 623. Loud cries their blood. For vengeance. The Meggat flows 
 into the Yarrow, the Yarrow into the Ettrick, the Ettrick into the 
 Tweed. The Teviot also flows into the Tweed. 
 
 638. Give me your counsel in the diflSculties that I disclose. 
 
 642. This. Ellen. That. Margaret. 
 
 679. Stirling's porch. Stirling Castle was a favorite residence of 
 the Scotch kings. 
 
 702. Battled. Battlemented. 
 
 708. Astound, Shortened from astounded for the metre. 
 
 747. Nighted — benighted. 
 
 763. Farting — departing. 
 
 786. I shall regard as my foe the first who strikes. 
 
 801. Addressed to Malcolm. " Hardihood was in every respect so 
 essential to the character of a Highlander, that the reproach of effemi- 
 nacy was the most bitter that could be thrown upon him." — Scott. 
 
 CANTO THIRD 
 
 THE GATHERING 
 
 4. Happed. Chanced. 
 
 17. Gathering sound. Sound to call the gathering. 
 
 18. The Fiery Cross. Scott says : " When a chieftain designed to 
 
NOTES 173 
 
 summon his clan, upon any sudden or important emergency, he slew 
 a goat, and making a cross of any light wood, seared the extremities 
 in the fire, and extinguished them in the blood of the animal. This 
 was called the Fiery Cross, also Crean Tarigh, or the Cross of Shame, 
 because disobedience to what the symbol implied, inferred infamy." 
 This was carried by relays of swift messengers, and every able-bodied 
 man, between sixteen years and sixty, on sight of it was obliged to 
 hasten to the meeting-place. "During the civil war of 1745-46, the 
 Fiery Cross often made its circuit ; and upon one occasion it passed 
 through the district of Breadalbane, a tract of thirty-two miles, in three 
 hours." 
 30. Chalice. Cup. 
 
 39. Cushat dove. Ring-dove. 
 
 40. In speaking of Scott's use of color, Ruskin quotes the above 
 passage, which he says " has no form in it at all exi;ept in one word 
 (chalice), but wholly composes its imagery either of color, or of that 
 delicate half-believed life which we have seen to be so important an 
 element in modern landscape." 
 
 47. Vassals. Dependants of a feudal lord. 
 
 51. Preface meet. Fitting preparation. 
 
 62. Rowan. Mountain ash. 
 
 83. Shivers. Slivers. 
 
 74. Benharrow. Mountain at head of Loch Lomond. 
 
 76. Druid. See early British history. 
 
 81. Hallowed. Christian. 
 
 87. Strath. A broad river valley. Watch for its compounds. 
 
 102. That served as buckler to a heart unknown to fear, or to which 
 fear was unknown. 
 
 104. Fieldfare. A kind of thrush. 
 
 108. Full— full blown. 
 
 114-116. Snood. " The Snood, or riband with which a Scottish lass 
 braided her hair, had an emblematical signification, and applied to her 
 maiden ch.aracter. 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." — Scott. 
 
 120. In prose we should have either . . . or . . . 
 
 130. Hap. Lot, fate. Cf. happen^ haply ^ perhaps. To wail — in 
 wailing. 
 
174 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 136. Cloister. Literally an enclosed place ; hence, monastery. 
 
 138. Sable-letter'd. Old English type is sometimes called " black 
 letter." 
 
 142. Cabala. Mysteries. 
 
 149. "In adopting the legend concerning the birth of the founder 
 of the church of Kilmalie, the author has endeavored to trace the 
 effects such a belief was likely to produce, in a barbarous age, on the 
 person to whom it was related." — Scott. 
 
 154. River Demon. "The River Demon, or River-horse, for it is 
 that form Avhich he commonly assumes, is the Kelpy of the Lowlands, 
 an evil and malicious spirit, delighting to forbode and to witness 
 calamity. He frequents most Highland lakes and rivers ; and one of 
 his most memorable exploits was performed upon the banks of Loch 
 Vennachar, in the very district which forms the scene of our action. 
 It consisted in the destruction of a funeral procession, with all its at- 
 tendants." — Scott. 
 
 156. Noontide hag or goblin grim. " The 'noontide hag,' called in 
 Gaelic Glas-lich, a tall, emaciated, gigantic female figure, is supposed 
 in particular to haunt the district of Knoidart. A goblin dressed in 
 antique armor, and having one hand covered with blood, called, from 
 that circumstance, Lham-dearg, or Red-hand, is a tenant of the forests 
 of Glennore and Rothiemurcus." — Scott. 
 
 168. Ben-Sbie. " Woman of the fairies." 
 
 " Most great families in the Highlands were supposed to have a 
 tutelar, or rather a domestic, spirit, attached to them, who took an in- 
 terest in their prosperity, and intimated, by its wailings, any approach- 
 ing disaster. . . . The Ben-Shie implies the female fairy whose lam- 
 entations 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 and streaming hair." — Scott. 
 
 171. Shingly. Gravelly. 
 
 177. Ban. Curse. 
 
 189. A cubit's length— 18 inches. 
 
 191. Inch-Cailliach. '^ Isle of Nuns," or of "Old Women," at tlie 
 lower extremity of Loch Lomond. 
 
 194. " The burial-ground continues to be used, and contains the 
 family places of sepulture of several neighboring clans." — Scott. 
 
 198. Anathema. Curse. 
 
 203. Dwelling low. Grave. 
 
 208. Him in the indirect object. '■ Shall doom him to wrath and 
 woe," would be the common construction. 
 
NOTES 175 
 
 212. Strook — struck; used for the rhyme. 
 
 237. Volumed — voluminous. 
 
 243. Goshawk — goose-hawk. 
 
 247. Answering goes with cry, 242. 
 
 253. Coir-Uriskin. '' This is a very steep and most romantic hollow 
 in the mountain of Benvenue, overhanging the southeastern extremity 
 of Loch Katrine. 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. . . . Tradition has ascribed to the Urisk, who 
 gives name to the cavern, a figure between a goat and a man ; in short, 
 however much the classical reader may be startled, precisely that of 
 the Grecian satyr. ... It must be owned that the Coir, or Den, does 
 not, in its present state, meet our ideas of a subterraneous 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 convulsions 
 of nature which a Lowlander cannot estimate, and which may have 
 choked up what was originally a cavern. At least the name and tra- 
 dition warrant the author of a fictitious tale to assert its having been 
 such at the remote period in which this scene is laid." — Scott. 
 
 288 et seq. Note the various touches by which the feeling of 
 breathless speed is produced. 
 
 300. Dun deer's hide. A sort of buskin or moccasin. 
 
 304. Steepy. Steep ; poetic. 
 
 310. Scaur. Cliff. Same as scar. Cf. Scarborough, and Tenny- 
 son's Bugle Song, '' sweet and far, from cliff and scar." 
 
 332. Cheer. Look. 
 
 344. Bosky. Woody. 
 
 349. Duncraggan. Near Brigg of Turk. 
 
 369. Coronach. A funeral lamentation, mingled with praise of the 
 dead. 
 
 384. Flushing. With its full color and beauty. 
 
 38(5. Correi. Hollow frequented by game. 
 
 394. Stumah. " Faithful," the dog. 
 
 425. Essays. Tries. 
 
 439. Hest. Command. 
 
 440. To arms. Notice the omission of the verb from this imperative 
 exclamation. 
 
 447. Mourner's. The widow's. 
 
 450. Borrow'd force. The energy from, or caused by, the *' weapon- 
 clang and martial call." 
 
176 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 453. Strath-Ire. The valley between Loch Voil and Loch Lubnaig. 
 
 458. Teith's young waters. The branches of the Teith, especially 
 the Leny, on the bank of which stood the Chapel of Saint Bride. 
 
 461. Saint Bride, or Saint Bridget, was an Irish nun of the fifth 
 century. 
 
 465. Sympathetic; i.e., in sympathy with the dancing waves, dizzy. 
 
 472, 473. Instead of the fully expressed conclusion, we have the ex- 
 clamation. If he had fallen there, we should have had to say farewell 
 forever to Duucraggan's orphan heir. 
 
 475. Firmer. Should be more firmly in prose. 
 
 480, 481. Tombea, Armandave. Places in the neighborhood of 
 Strath-Ire. 
 
 483. Bridal, here a noun — a wedding-party. 
 
 633. Incumbent. Overhanging; used literally. This grotto was 
 supposed to be inhabited by a sort of Scottish Satyr or lubberly 
 Brownie. 
 
 641. Still. Noun, stillness. 
 
 643. Chafed with. Blew over the surface, roughening it. Cf. 
 Julius CcBsar, 1. ii. 101, " The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores." 
 Originally chafe meant " to warm " (chafing-dish); then "to warm by 
 rubbing"; finally, "to fret " 
 
 672. Single page. According to Scott, the regular officers attached 
 to a Highland chief were: (1) the henchman; (2) the bard; (3) the 
 bladier, or spokesman; (4) the gillie-more, or sword-bearer (alluded to 
 in this line) ; (5) a gillie, who bore the chief across the fords ; (6) 
 a gillie to lead the horse ; (7) a baggageman ; (8) a piper; (9) a piper's 
 gillie. 
 
 CANTO FOURTH 
 
 THE PROPHECY 
 
 10. Fond conceit. Idle or foolisli conception. 
 
 19. Braes of Doune. The hills near Doune, a town on the Teith. 
 
 23. Scont — scouting expedition. 
 
 36. Boune. Ready, prepared. 
 
 42. Bide. Endure. Bout. Turn. 
 
 63. The Taghairm. " The Highlanders, like all rude people, had 
 various superstitious modes of inquiring into futurity. One of the 
 most noted was the Taghairm, mentioned in the text. A person was 
 
NOTES. 177 
 
 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 scenery 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 disem- 
 bodied spirits, who haunt these desolate recesses." — Scott. 
 68. Gallangad. In the Loch Lomond district. 
 
 73. Kernes. Light-armed soldiers. 
 
 74. Bealmaha. " The pass of the plain," east of Loch Lomond, 
 
 77. Dennan's Kow. At the foot of Ben Lomond. 
 
 78. Scatheless. Harmless. 
 82. Boss. Knob. 
 
 84. Hero's Targe. A rock in the forest of Glenfinlas. 
 
 99. Morsel. "•There is a little gristle upon the spoone of the 
 brisket, which we call the raven's bone." 
 
 115. Rouse — rise. 
 
 124. Save he would be except him in prose. 
 
 130. Blazed — emblazoned. 
 
 139. Self-oflfered. Offered by himself. 
 
 1.50. Glaive. Sword. 
 
 153. Sable pale. Heraldic terms. A broad perpendicular stripe of 
 black in the middle of tlie shield. 
 
 164. Shaggy glen. Tlie word Trosachs itself means " bristling 
 country." 
 
 174. Stance. Station. 
 
 217. Rife. Everywhere prevalent. 
 
 223. Trowed. Believed. 
 
 231. Cambus-kenneth's fane. Cambus-kenneth Abbey, near Stirling. 
 
 245. Bode of. Forebode. 
 
 262. Mavis and merle. Thrush and blackbird. 
 
 267. Wold. Open country. The word wold is from the Anglo- 
 Saxon weald and originally meant forest, then waste ground, then 
 plain or upland. 
 
 277. "Vest of pall. Rich crimson or purple stuff of which palls 
 (mantles) were made. 
 
 285. Vair. Squirrel's fur. 
 
 298. Woned. Dwelt. 
 
 377. Claims. The rhyme requires the singular form ; perhaps the 
 subjects are taken singly. 
 
178 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 387. Bourne. Limit, boundary. 
 
 417. Before, i.e., when he visited the Island. 
 
 419. That fatal bait. The knowledge that my selfish ear was 
 soothed to hear my praise. 
 
 421. Atone is here a transitive verb — atone for. 
 
 425. Thou means herself. 
 
 437. Train. Device, snare. 
 
 471. Lordship. Land held by a lord. 
 
 473. I who reck of (care for) neither state nor land. 
 
 506. Weeds. Garments. 
 
 531, 532. These two streams join in the Forth near Stirling. 
 
 555. Maudlin. A corruption of Magdalene. 
 
 565. To break his fall. When he is pitched from the cliff. 
 
 567. Batten. Fatten. 
 
 590, 605. Blanche warns Fitz-James of the ambush that was set for 
 him. 
 
 590. Toils. Nets. 
 
 594. Fitz-James is the " stag." Ten. Ten branches on his antlers. 
 
 598. Wounded doe, r. e. , Blanche. 
 
 642. Daggled. Moistened, wet. 
 
 734, 735. Notice the omissions of verbs. There is no time for 
 words that may be easily supplied. 
 
 CANTO FIFTH 
 
 THE COMBAT 
 
 44. Rugged mountain's scanty cloak. Note the resemblance between 
 the mountain and the Highlanders. 
 
 46. Shingles. Coarse gravel and broken stone. 
 
 64. Sooth to tell. To tell tlie truth. 
 
 86, 111. What fatal mistake did Roderick make? 
 
 108. Regent's court. The Regent was Albany, a cousin of James 
 IX., whom the Scottish nobles called home from France to assume 
 the reins of government after that monarch was slain at Flodden 
 Field. It was a disorderl}' time, full of feuds. 
 
 125. Truncheon. Sceptre or baton. 
 
 126. Mewed. Confined, as in a cage. 
 
NOTES 179 
 
 152-153. Sires . . , claymore. The target and claymore were weap- 
 ons of the Britons from earliest times. 
 
 16!). Seek other cause. A foray was considered by the Highlanders 
 an lionorablf nndertaking. Scott says that the Gael never forgot that 
 the Lowlands at some remote period had belonged to his ancestors, 
 and so were fair prey. 
 
 19G, 227. This incident is founded on fact. The most dramatic 
 situation in the poem. 
 
 252. Glinted. Flashed. 
 
 2G8. Though every valley, etc., depended on our strife. 
 
 298. Katrine, Achray, and Vennachar. 
 
 309. This murderous chief, as you call me. 
 
 344. Strengths — strongliolds. 
 
 3G4. Ruth. Pity. 
 
 380. Targe. ''A round target of light wood, covered with strong 
 leather and studded with brass or iron, was a necessary part of a 
 Highlander's equipment. . . . A person thus armed had a consider- 
 able advantage in private fray."— Scott. 
 
 452. Squires. The attendants of a knight. 
 
 462. Fairer freight. Ellen. 
 
 496. Mark just glance. Perceive, quickly to meet the eye and then 
 to disappear. 
 
 525. Saint Serle. A very obscure saint, but the only one whose 
 name rhymes with earl. 
 
 532. Postern gate. Rear gate. 
 
 544. Bride of heaven. A nun. The convent was the common haven 
 of high-born maidens. 
 
 551. Fatal mound. The place where many state criminals had been 
 executed, situated on the northeast of the castle. 
 
 558. Franciscan steeple. Grayfriar's Church, built by James IX. 
 Here John Knox preached the sermon for the coronation of James VI. 
 
 562. Horrice-dancers. The morrice, or morris, dance was one origi- 
 nally borrowed from the Moors. It is described in Scott's Abbot. 
 
 838. Cognizance. Badge. 
 
 856. Lost (sight of) it. Forgot it. 
 
 866. Leaders Lost — loss of their leaders. 
 
 868, 869. I do not wish to have the common people feel avenging 
 steel on account of their Chief's crimes. 
 
180 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 CANTO SIXTH 
 
 THE GUARD-ROOM 
 
 3. Caitiff. Strictly a captive ; hence a wretched man. 
 
 15. Gyve. Fetter. 
 
 63. Holytide — holy time, holiday. 
 
 92. Black-jack. A leather pitcher. 
 
 93 Seven deadly sins. Pride, idleness, gluttony, lust, avarice, envy, 
 wrath. 
 
 95. Upsees. "Bacchanalian interjection borrowed from tlie Dutch." 
 —Scott. 
 
 100. Gillian. A corruption of Juliana. The shorter form is Gill, 
 or Jill. 
 
 103. Cure Office of Parish priest. Placket and pot. Women and 
 wine. 
 
 104. Lurch. Swindle, cheat. 
 144. Fee. A kiss. 
 
 167. I shame me — I am ashamed. 
 
 170. Needwood. A forest in Staffordshire. 
 
 183. TuUibardine. In Perthshire, where the Murray s lived. 
 
 208. The King's pledge of claims on his gratitude. 
 
 221. Hest — behest, command. 
 
 234. Barret-cap. Flat cap. 
 
 295. Leech. Physician. 
 
 306. Prore — prow. 
 
 347. Dermid's race. The Campbells. 
 
 369. Beal' an Duine. " The pass of the man." 
 
 " A skirmish actually took place at the pass thus called, in the Tro- 
 sachs, and closed with the remarkable incident mentioned in the text. 
 It was greatly posterior in date to the reign of James V." — Scott. 
 
 377. Eyrie. Nest of a bird of prey. 
 
 404. Barded. Armored. 
 
 405. Battalia. Army. 
 414. Vaward. Vanguard. 
 447. Serried. Closely packed. 
 
 452. Tinchel. A circle of hunters surrounding the deer. 
 496. Doubling pass. Winding pass. 
 
 539. Bonnet-pieces. Gold coins on which the King's head wore a 
 bonnet instead of a crown. 
 
NOTES 181 
 
 583. Truce-note. Signal for stay of battle. 
 
 638. Stoned pane. Stained glass windows on which scenes were de- 
 picted. 
 
 665. Percli and hood. Confinement from the hunt. 
 
 712. Stayed. Supported. 
 
 740. And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King. James V. was 
 fond of such incognito escapades. 
 
 769. Infidel. Unbeliever, distrustful one. 
 
 802. Talisman. Spell, or magic charm. 
 
 849. Fold and lea. Sheepfold and meadow. 
 
 Go back and re-read the first three stanzas of the poem, comparing 
 them with the last three stanzas — the introduction with the conclusion. 
 
 (1) 
 
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 " Likely to attract a rather special degree of attention." — New York 
 Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NP:W YORK. 
 
LITERATURES OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Edited by EDMUND GOSSE, Hon. M.A. of Trinity College, 
 Cambridge. l2mo. Cloth, $1.50 each. 
 
 Modern English Literature. 
 
 By Edmund Gosse. 
 
 " The bibliographical list is of extreme value, as is the bibliographical work gen- 
 erally. It is just one of these books which every reader will want to place among his 
 working books." — New York Times. 
 
 " A book which in soundness of learning, sanity of judgment, and attractiveness of 
 manner has not been equaled by the work of any other author who has sought to 
 analyze the elements of English literature in a concise and authoritative way." — 
 Boston Beacon. 
 
 "That he has been a careful student, however, in many departments, the most 
 unrelated and recondite, is evident on every page, in the orderly arrangement of his 
 multitudinous materials, in the accuracy of his statements, in the acuteness of his 
 critical observations, and in the large originality of most of his verdicts." — Ne7u 
 York Mail and Express. 
 
 " Thoroughly enjoyable from first to last. It traces the growth of a literature so 
 clearly and simply, that one is apt to underrate the magnitude of the undertaking. 
 Mr Gosse's charming personality pervades it all, and his happy manner illuminates 
 matter that has been worked over and over until one might imagine all its freshness 
 gone." — Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 " Mr. Gosse's most ambitious book and probably his best._ Itbears on every page 
 the traces of a genuine love for his subject and of a lively critical intelligence. More- 
 over, it is extremely readable — more readable, in fact, than any other single volume 
 dealing with this same vast subject that we can call to mind. . . . Really a remark- 
 able performance." — London Times. 
 
 "Probably no living man is more competent than Mr. Gosse to write a popular 
 and yet scholarly history of English literature. . . . The greater part of his life has 
 been given up to the study and criticism of English literature of the past, and he has 
 1 learned and balanced enthusiasm for every writer who has written excellently in 
 English." — London Saturday Review. 
 
 "The hook is lucid, readable, and interesting, and a marvel of condensed infor- 
 mation, without its seeming to be so. It can be read by nine out of ten intelligent 
 people, not only without fatigue, but with pleasure ; and when it is finished the 
 reader will have a comprehensive and intelligent view of the subject which will not 
 only enable him to talk with some ease and confidence upon the merits of the prin- 
 cipal creators of English literature, but will also point the way to the right sources 
 if he wishes to supplement the knowledge which he has derived from this book." — 
 Pittsburg Times. 
 
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TWENTIETH CENTURY TEXT-BOOKS. 
 
 A History of Ancient Greek Literature. 
 
 By Harold N. Fowler, Ph. D., Professor of 
 Greek, Western Reserve University. i2mo. Cloth, 
 $1.40. 
 
 A complete history of ancient Greek literature from 
 its beginning to Justinian ; hence more comprehensive 
 than any other similar history in the English language. 
 While primarily a text-book, it is not a dry compilation 
 of facts, but an entertaining and delightful story of one of 
 the world's great literatures, enriched with many extracts 
 from Greek authors. The book contains nothing that 
 should not be familiar to every educated man and woman. 
 The style is easy and interesting ; proportion and per- 
 spective are well preserved ; the scholarship is modern 
 and accurate. This history will commend itself to a large 
 class of readers, and especially to students of Greek and 
 of comparative literature.' 
 
 A History of Roman Literature. 
 
 By Harold N. Fowler, Ph. D., Professor in the 
 College for Women of Western Reserve University. 
 i2mo. Cloth, $1.40. 
 
 It contains a continuous account of the progress of 
 Roman literature, with biographical sketches of the wri- 
 ters, from Livius Andronicus to Boethius. This is done, 
 not in order to burden the reader's memory with useless 
 details, but the aim has been to make the book useful as 
 a book of reference, as well as to convey to the reader a 
 sense of the wide range and the continuity of Roman lit- 
 erature. As compared with other short histories of 
 Roman literature, this book is distinguished for its com- 
 pleteness and for the large number of selections from the 
 works of the ancient authors. 
 
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