/li^!' ?'':;' ,i...iti'l. ji'U >• . ^^'\ ' ^^^\ °-^^ .%v ^o^-i' .5>^^vr. ..T* A V..''A . .^^% v'^ , N O . *fc ^4 Q^ 'bV o > >°-n^ THE Lady of the Lake A POEM IN SIX CANTOS Sir Walter Scott, Bart. VIGNETTE EDITION. WITH ONE HUNDRED NEIV I L LUSTRA TIONS Joseph M. Gleeson NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKIIS COMTANV MUCCCXCII \' Copyright, 1892 Bv FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PUBLISHERS' NOTE. All tJic 7 'ol limes ifi tJic scries in which the *' Lady of the Lake " /> fiiblished^ are illustrated by original dra7oijii^s, made by 7vell-kiny:i.')i ar- tists ; but the publishers belie^'C that the illustrations in this 7'oluvie are ivorthy of more than ordinaiy at- tention . Mr. Joseph M. Gleeson 7oas eoni- viissioned to 7'isit Scotland^ and there he made the one hundred sLetelies 7(>hieh ha7'e been reproduced for the illustrations of this book. Mr. Cleeson\\- Toorh ctrrred a pe- riod o/' se7'eral months, and he exe- eufed it in a most aeeurate and care- ful manner. I lis sketches of scen- ery, costumes and 7ocapons, are the result of personal obsen'ation or thorough study. INTRODUCTION TO THE LADY OF THE LAKE. After the success of " Marmion," I felt inclined to exclaim with Ulysses in the " Odyssey " — Ovro^ fitv (U/ ciedTiog adarog kureTeTieoTai' 'Nvv avre gkokov ciaIov. Odys. x 5' 6. " One venturous game my hand has won to-day — Another, gallants, yet remains to l^lay." The ancient manners, the habits and cus- toms of the aboriginal race by whom the Hii>hlands of Scotland were inhabited, had always appeared to me peculiarly adapted to poetry. The chanq^e in their manners, too, had taken place almost within my own time, or at least I had learned many particudars concerning- the ancient state of the llij^hlands from the old men of the last generation. 1 had always thou.i^iit tho old ScM)ltish (iacl hiiihly adapted for poetical composition. The Iciuls and polit- Introdiidioji. ical dissensions, which half a century earUer 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 compassion which the English, more than any other nation, feel for the misfortunes of an honorable foe. The Poems of Ossian had, by their popularity, sufficiently shown that if writ- ings on Highland subjects were qualified to interest the reader, mere national prejudices were in the present day very unlikely to inter- fere 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 beautiful, and so deeply imprinted on my recollection, 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 \ ., 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 ad- dress or dexterity. I may now confess, however, that the em- ployment, though attended with great pleasure, Ijiirodiictioii, 5 was not without its doubts and anxieties. A lady, to whom I was nearly related, 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 time 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 popu- lar — 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 stum- ble with impunity." I replied to this affection- ate expostulation in the words of Montrose — " He either fears his fate too imich, Or his deserts are small. Who (lar(\s not ])ut i( to thi^ toiu^h To gain or lose it all." * The lady with wlH)m Sir Walter Scott heltl this eoiiver- sation, was, no doubt, his aunt, Miss Christian Ruther- ford ; there was no other female relation ^Av/^/ when this Introduction was written, whom I can suppose him to have consulted on liti-rary cjuestions. Lady Capulet, on seeiii}^ the corpse of Tyhalt, exclaims " Tyl'all, my cousin ! oh my hiothei 's chiKl ' " I'"'' Infrodurtion. " It 1 iaii, I said, lor me dialogue is strong in my recoliection, -it is a sign that I ought never to have succeeded, and I will write prose for Ufe : you shall see no change in my temper, nor will 1 eat a single meal the worse. But if I succeed, — ^ Up with the bonnie blue bonnet. The dirk, and the feather, and a* ! "" Afterwards I showed my affectionate and anxious critic the first canto of the poem, which reconciled her to my imprudence. Nevertheless, although I answered thus con- fidently, with the obstinacy often said to be proper to those who bear my surname, I acknowledge that my confidence was consider- ably shaken by the warning of her excellent taste and unbiassed friendship. Nor was I much comforted by her retraction of the un- favorable 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 formeriy exhibited, and throws its defects into the shade. I remember that about the same time a friend started in to "heeze up mv hope," like the *• sportsman with his cutty-gun," in the old song. He was bred a farmer, but a man of powerful understanding, natural good taste. l7ih'odiictio7i. 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 pursued together. As this friend happened to dine with me at Ashesteil 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 sup- posed, that I determined rather to guide my opinion by what my friend might appear to feel than by what he might think fit to say. His reception of my recitation, or prelection, was rather singular. 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 miit^h cMu-ouraged by the species of reverie which had possessed so zealous a follower of the sjiorts of th«," an(Ment Nimrod. who had bcHMi coni|)let(l\ sur- prised out of all doubts of tlu' realitv of the lale. Another of his remarks «»ave me less 8 Litrodnction. pleasure. He detected the identity of the King with the wandering knight, Fitz-James, when he winds his bugle to summon his attendants. He was probabl)^ thinking of the lively, but somew^hat licentious, old ballad, in which the denouement of a royal intrigue takes place as follows : — " He took a bugle frae his side, He blew both loud and slirill, And four-and-twenty belted knights Came skipping ower the hill ; Then he took out a little knife, Let a' his duddies fa'. And he was the brawest gentleman That was amang them a'. And w^e'll go no more a-roving," &c. 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 pro- ducing effect, with which the Irish post-boy is said to reserve a " trot for the avenue." I took uncommon pains to verify the accu- racy of the local circumstances of this story. I recollect, in particular, that to ascertain whether I was telling a probable tale, I went into Perth- shire, to see whether King James could actually have ridden from the banks of Loch Vennachar Introduction. to Stirling Castle within the time supposed in the Poem, and had the pleasure to satisfy my- self that it was quite pmcticable. After a considerable delay, " The Lady of the Lake" appeared in June, 1810; and its success was certainly so extraordinary as to induce me for the moment to conclude that 1 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 favor for three successive times had not as yet been shaken. I had attained, perhaps, that degree of public 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. lUit as the celebrated John Wilkes is said to have explained to his late i\Iajesty, that he himself, amid his full tide of popularity, was never a Wilkite, so 1 can, with honest truth, exculpate myself from having been at any time a partisan of niy own poetry, even when it was in the highest fashion with the million. It must not be supposed, that I was either so ungrateful, or so su[)eral)uiulantly candid, as to des[)ise (,)r scorn the \aliie of those whose voice had elevaled me so much higher than my own opinion lold me I deserved. I felt, on the contrary, the more (grateful to the public, as re(\'i\iiig thai from partiality to me, which I could not have claimcil fi'oin mc-rit ; Introduction. and I endeavored to desene the partiality, by continuing such exertions as 1 was capable of for their amusement. It may be that I did not, in this contmued course of scribbling, consult either the interest of the public or m\" own. But the former had effectual means of defending 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 literary labor, that I should have felt difficulty in employing myself otherwise ; and so, like Dogberr\', I generously bestowed all my tediousness on the public, comforting my- self with the reflection, that if posterity should think me undeserving of the favor with which I was regarded by my contemporaries, " they could but say I had the crown," and had en- joyed for a time that popularity which is so much coveted. I conceived, however, that I held the distin- guished situation I had obtained, however unworthily, rather like the champion of pugil- ism,* on the condition of being always ready to show proofs of my skill, than in the manner of the champion of chivalr\', who per- ♦ *• In twice five jears ihe * greatest liviuor poet,' Like to the champion in the fisty ring. Is called on to support his claim, or show it. Although 'tis an imaginary thing,""* etc. Don Juan^ canto xi. st. 53. Introduction. 1 1 forms his duties only on rare and solemn occasions. I was in any case conscious that I could not long hold a situation which the caprice, rather than the judgment, of the public, 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 reputation by what Scottish lawyers call the negative pre- scriptiojt. Accordingly, those who choose to look at the Introduction to Rokeby, in the present edition, will be able to trace the steps by which I decline as a poet to figure as a novelist; as the ballad says, Queen Eleanor sunk at Charing-Cross to rise again at Oucen- hithe. It only remains for me to say, that, during my short pre-eminence of popularity, I faith- fully 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 deter- mined 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 cM-y. Experienced persons know, that in stretching to flog the latter, the rider is very apt to catch a bad fall; nor is an attcm|)t to chastise a malignant critic attended with less danger to tlu' author. On this principle, I let jxirodv. binlc'S(iue, an(.l s(iuil)s liiul their own level; Introduction. and while the latter hissed most fiercely, I was cautious never to catch them up, as school-boys do, to throw them back against the naughty boy who hred 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 instances of good-nature as well as patience. I never refused 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 irritable race, to enjo}^ general favor, without incurring permanent ill-will, so far as is known to me, among any of my contemporaries. W. S. Arbotsford, April (1S30). * " Sir Walter reig-n'd before.'' etc. Don J uan^Q,^w\.o xi. st. 57. ARGUMENT. The Scene of the following Poem is laid chiefly in the vicinity of Loch Katrine, in the Western Highlands of Perthshire. The time of action includes six days, and the transac- tions of each day occupy a Canto. Ellen. 1^ THE The Lady of the Lake. CANTO FIRST. Thk Chase. Hari' of the North ! that moulderin^^- loiv^- lias huno^ On the witch-ehn that shades Saint l-'illan's sprini^, And down the litfu! breeze thy numbers tluni;. Till envious ivy (h'd around thee i^lint;. Muftlini;' with verdant rini^let every string.— () minstrel Harp, still must thine aeeents sleep ? Mid rustlin«'" leaves and fountains murmuiin'-, 1 6 The LaJy of the Lake, Still must th\- sweeter sounds their silence keep. Nor bid a warrior sniile, nor teach a maid to weep ? Xot thus, in ancient days of Caledon, Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd. When lay of hopeless love, or glory won. Aroused the fearful, or subidued the proud. At each according pause, was heard aloud. Thine ardent symphony sublime and high ! Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bovv'd For still the burden of thy minstrelsy Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye. O wake once more ! how rude soe'er the hand That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; O wake once more I though scarce my skill com- mand 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 touch'd 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. The Lady of the Lake, 17 ■^^■^<\f^^^ Till': SIACi Al \:\ i: IIAU UUl^Nk IIIS III.I.. The Lady of the Lake. And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, The deep-mouth 'd bloodhound's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way, And faint, from farther distance borne, Were heard the clanging hoof and horn, II. As Chief who hears his warder call, " To arms! the foemen storm the wall,"* The antler *d monarch of the waste Sprung from his heather}' couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took. The dewdrops from his flanks he shook ; Like crested leader proud and high, Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky; A moment gazed ad own the dale. A moment snuff'd the tainted gale, A moment listen'd to the cry, That thicken'd as the chase drew nigh ; Then, as the headmost foes appear'd, With one brave bound the copse he clear'd. And, stretching forward free and far, Sought the wild heaths of Uam-A'ar. III. Yeird on the view the opening pack ; Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back : The Lady of the Lake, 19 To many a mingled sound at once The awaken'd mountain gave response, A hundred dogs bay'd deep and strong, Clattr'd a hundred steeds along, Their peal the merry horns rung out, A hundred voices join'd the shout ; With hark and whoop and wild halloo. No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. Far from the tumult fled the roe. Close in her covert cower'd the doe, )M'; wool). The fah^on, from her (\'iiiii on hi^h. Cast on the rout a wondering eye, Till far beyond her piercing ken The luirri(\'inc had swept the glen. Faint, and more faint, its failing din Kelurn'd from cavei-n. cliff, and linn. And silence settled, wide and still. On the lone wood .ind mii^hlv hill. 20 21ie Lady of the Lake. IV. Less loud the sounds of sylvan war Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, And roused the cavern, where, 'tis told, A giant made his den of old ; For ere that steep ascent was won. High in his pathway hung the sun. And many a gallant, stayed perforce. Was fain to breathe his faltering horse And of the trackers of the deer. Scarce half the lessening pack was near ; So shrewdly on the mountain side Had the bold burst their mettle tried. Y. The noble stag was pausing now. Upon the moim tain's southern brow. F.MK Mexteith. The Lady of the Lake, 21 Where broad extended, far beneath, The varied realms of fair Menteith, With anxious eye he wander'd o'er Mountain and meadow, moss and moor. And ponder'd refuge from his toil. By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. Log HARD. lUit nearer was the copsewood i^ray. That waved and wept on Loch-Achray, And mingled with the pine-trees blue On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. Fresh vigor with the hope return'd, With Hying foot the heath he spurn'd. I Ic'ld westward with uiuvearied r.uH*. Aiul left behind the p.niling chase. 22 The Lady of the Lake. VI. 'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, As swept the hunt through Cambus-more ; What reins were tighten'd in despair, When rose Benledi's ridge in air ; Benledi. Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath, Who shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith- For twice that day, from shore to shore, The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. The Lady of the Lake, 23 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. ■^.„ J Loch Vennachar. VII. y\lonc, but witii unhaU'd zeal, That horseman plied the scourge and steel For jaded now, and spent with toil, Emboss'd with foam, and dark with soil. While every gasj) with sobs he drew. The laboring stag strain'd full in view. Two dogs of black Saint lliibeit's breed. Unmatch'd for coinage, bicaih. and speed 24 The Lady of the Lake. Fast on his flying traces came, And all but won that desperate game ; For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch Vindictive toil'd the bloodhounds stanch ; "-^c- The Bkigg of Tlrk. The Lady of tJic Lake. "%'■■ m 26 The Lady of the Lake, ''\ \ "^w*i. Nor nearer might the dogs attain. Nor farther might the quarn* strain. Thus up the margin of the lake. Between the precipice and brake. O'er stock and rock their race they take. Vindictive toil'l. the bloodhoc-nds stanch. The Lady of the Lake. 27 VIII. The Hunter mark'd that mountain high, The lone lake's western boundary, In TIM': i)i;i:i' 'i"K<>s.\( ii's wii.DKsr nook 28 The Lady of the Lake. And deem'd the stag must turn to bay, Where that huge rampart barr'd the way ; Already glorying in the prize, Measured his antlers with his eyes ; For the death-wound and death-halloo, Muster'd his breath, his whinyard drew ; — But thundering as he came prepared, With ready arm and weapon bared, The wily quarry shunn'd the shock, And turn'd him from 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 couch'd, the thicket shed Cold dews and wild-flowers on his head. He heard the baffled dogs in vain Rave through the hollow pass amain, Chiding the rocks that yell'd 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. For the good steed, his labors o'er, Stretch'd his stiff limbs, to rise no more ; Then, touch'd with pity and remorse. He sorrow'd o'er the expiring horse. 21ie Lady of the Lake. 29 X . ^ Thai (oms iiis i.ii i-, mv (.ai.i.ani <.\<.\\. The LcJifv of the Lake. " I little thought, when hrst thy rein I slack'd 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. Back limp'd, with slow and crippled pace. The sulky leaders of the chase ; Close to their master s side they press'd With drooping tail, and humbled crest ; But still the dingle's hollow throat Prolong'd the swelling bugle-note. The owlets started from their dream. The eagles answer 'd with their scream. Round and around the sounds were cast. Till echo seem'd an answering blast ; And on the Hunter hied his way. To join some comrades of the day ; Yet often paused, so strange the road. So wondrous were the scenes it show'd. XI. The wesierrx waves of ebbing dav RoH'd 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. Was bathed im floods of living fire. Rut not a setting beam could glow Within the dark ravines below, Where twined the path in shadow hid, Round many a rocky pyramid. Shooting abruptly from the dell Its thunder-s[)linter'd pinnacle ; Round many an insulated mass, The native bulwarks of the pass, Huge as the tower which builders vain Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. The rocky summits, split and rent, Form'd turret, dome, or battlement. Or seem'd fantastically set With cuj^ola or minaret, Wild crests as pagod ever deck'd, Or moscjue of I'^astern architect. Nor were these earth-born castles bare, Nor lack'd they many a !)anncr fair; Vox, from their shi\'ci''(l brow.^; displaxed h'ar, o'er the unfathomable glade, All twinkling with the dewdrop sheen. The hi'iar-rose lelt \\\ sti'eamei's ''reen, The Ladx ,^f th:: Lah: And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes. Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. XII. Boon nature scatter *d free and wild. Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. Here eglantine embalm'd the air. Hawthorn and hazel mingled there ; The primrose pale and violet flower. Found in each clift a narrow bower ; Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side. Emblems of punishment and pride, Group'd their dark hues with ever\- 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 ; The Lady oj t/ie Lake. 33 And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung His shatter'd trunk, and frequent flung, Where seem'd the cliffs to meet on high, His boughs athwart the narrow'd sky. Highest of all, where white peaks glanced. Where glist'ning stream- ers waved and danced. The wanderer's eye could barely view The summer heaven's de- licious 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 s(\irce s u c h brcadlh of brim, As served the wild (hu^k's brood to swim. Lost for a sp.'UH-. through thickets veering. lUit broader w iuii again appearing. Tall rocks and tnltcd knolls tluii" fare Conld on llic dark-bhu- mirror tract- ; His lun (.MS A I HW AKT 'IIII-: NAKKOU'l) SKW 34 ^^^^' Lady of tJie Lake. And farther as the Hunter stray'cl, Still broader sweep its channels made. The shaggy mounds no longer stood. Emerging from entangled wood, But, wave-encircled, seem'd to float, Like castle girdled with its moat ; Yet broader floods extending still Divide them from their parent hill, Till each, retiring, claims to be An islet in an inland sea. XIV. And now, to issue from the glen, • No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, Unless he climb, with' footing nice, A far projecting precipice. The broom's tough roots his ladder made, The hazel saplings lent their aid ; And thus an airy point he won, Where, gleaming with the setting sun. One burnish'd sheet of living gold, Loch Katrine lay beneath him roll'd, In all her length far winding lay, With promontory, creek, and bay, And islands that, empurpled bright, Floated amid the livelier light, And mountains, that like giants stand. To sentinel enchanted land. High on the south, huge Ben venue Down on the lake in masses threw The Lady of the Lake. 35 Nf) I'ATMWAY MEETS IHK WANDEKER's KEN, Crai;s, knolls, and inouiuls. roiifuscilly luni'd, The frag^mcnts of an earlier world ; A wilderini^- forest feather'd o'er I lis ruiii'd sides and snininit hoar. While on the north, throni^h middle air. Ben-an heaved high liis forehead bare. o 6 The Lady of ihe Lake. XV. From the steep promontory gazed The stranger, raptured and amazed. And, " What a scene were here/' he cried. " For princely pomp, or churchman's pride I 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 I And, when the midnight moon shall 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 bewilder'd stranger call To friendlv feast and lio^hted hall. X\T. " Blithe were it then to wander here I But now — beshrew von nimble deer,- T/ic Lady of t/ic Lake. 37 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. Were but to-morrow's merriment :• 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, From uiulcriiCcUh an aged oak, That slanted from the islet rock, A damsel guider of iis way, A little skill shot to the bay. That round ihe j^romontorv steep Led its deep line in graceful sweep. Eddying, in almost viewless wa\t\ The weeping willow twig to la\-e, .And kiss, with whispci^iiig soiiiul :ind The hcicli of pebbles l)i"i">hl as snow. 38 Th3 Lady of the LaJze. Mv BUGLE-STRAIN MAY CALL SOME STRAGGLER OF THE TRALV. 27ie Lady of the Lake. 39 The boat had touch'd this silver strand, Just as the Hunter left his stand, And stood conceal'd amid the brake, To view this Lady of the Lake. The maiden paused, as if again She thought to catch the distant strain. With head up-raised, and look intent, And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back, and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art. In listening mood, she seem'd to stand The guardian Naiad of the strand. XVTIL And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form, or lovelier face ! What though the sun with ardent frown, Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — The sportive toil, which, short and light. Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, Served too in hastier swell to show Short glimpses of a breast of snow: What though no rule of courtly grace To measured mood had train'd her pace, — A foot more light, a step more true. Ne'er from the hcath-llowcr dash'd the dew ; E'en the slight harebell raiscnl its head. Elastic from her airy tread : What though upon Ium* spcci^h there hung The accents of the moiuUain toui-ui. 40 The LaJy of the Lake, Those silver sounds, so soft, so clear. The Hst'ner held his breath to hear ! XIX. A Chieftain's daughter seem'd the maid ; Her satin snood, her silken plaid. Her golden brooch, such birth betray 'd. And seldom was a snood amid Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid. Whose glossy black to shame might bring The plumage of the raven's wing ; And seldom o'er a breast so fair, Mantled a plaid with modest care, And never brooch the folds combined Above a heart more good and kind. Her kindness and her worth to spy You need but gaze on Ellen's eye : Not Katrine, in her mirror blue, Gives back the shaggy banks more true. Than every free-born glance confess'd The guileless movements of her breast ; Whether joy danced in her dark eye, Or woe or pity claim'd a sigh, 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 unreveal'd, With maiden pride the maid conceal'd. Yet not less purely felt the flame ; — O need I tell that passion's name ! The Lady of the Lake. XX. Impatient of the silent horn, Now on the gale her voice was borne : — *' Father ! " she cried ; the rocks around Loved to prolong the gentle sound. A while she paused, no answer came,- " Malcolm, was thine the blast ? " the name Less resolutely utter'd fell, The echoes could not catch the swell. "A stranger I," the Huntsman said, Advancing from the hazel shade. The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar Pushed her light shallop from the shore, And when a space was gained between. Closer she drew her bosom's screen ; (So forth the startled swan would swing. So turn to prune his ruffled wing), 'Jlien safe, though Ikitter'd and amazed, She paused, and on the stranger gazed. Not his the form, nor his the eye, That youthful maidens wont to tly. XXL On his bold visage middle age Had slightly press'd its signet sage, Yet had not quench'd thr open truth And fiery vehemence of youth; Korwai'd and h'olic glee was tlici'c, The will to do. the soul to kVwv, llie Lady of tlu Lake. 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 array'd, And weaponless, except his blade, His stately mien as well impHed A high-born heart, a martial pride, As if a Baron's crest he wore, And sheathed in armor trode the shore, Slighting the petty need he show'd He told of his benighted road ; His ready speech flow'd fair and free, In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; Yet seem'd that tone, and gesture bland. Less used to sue than to command. XXII. A while the maid the stranger eyed. And, reassured, at length replied, That Highland halls were open still To wilder'd wanderers of the hill. '* Nor think you unexpected come To yon lone isle, or desert home ; Before the heath had lost the dew. This morn, a couch was puU'd for you ; On yonder mountain's purple head Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled. And our broad nets have swept the mere, '!'() furnish forth vour evening- cheer." The Lady of the Lake. 43. " Now, by the rood, my lovely maid, Your courtesy has err'd," he said ; " No right have I to claim, misplaced. The welcome of expected guest. A wanderer here by fortune tost, My way, my friends, my courser lost, I ne'er before, believe me, fair, Have ever drawn your mountain air, Till on this lake's romantic strand, I found a fay in fairy land I " ^'V. THIS l.AKK S ROMAN I IC SKKAND. Will. " 1 well hclicvc," the maid rcpliid. As her \v^\\\ skiff appio.iilu'd llu- side. 44 '^fi^ Lady of the Lake. " 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-hair'd sire, whose eye intent Was on the vision'd future bent. He saw your steed, a dappled gray, Lie dead beneath the birchen way ; Painted exact your form and mien, Your hunting-suit of Lincoln green, That tassell'd horn so gayly gilt. That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, That cap with heron plumage trim, And yon two hounds so dark and grim. He bade that all should ready be. To grace a guest of fair degree ; But light I held his prophecy. And deem'd it was my father's horn, Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne. " XXIV. The stranger smiled : " Since to your home A destined errant-knight I come, Announced by prophet sooth and old, Doom'd, doubtless, for achievement bold, ni lightly front each high emprise, For one kind glance of those bright eyes. Permit me, first, the task to guide Your fairy frigate o'er the tide." The maid, with smile suppress'd and sly. The toil unwonted saw him trv ; I'/ie Lady of the Lake, 45 For seldom sure, if e'er before, His noble hand had grasp'd an oar ; Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, And o'er the lake the shallop flew ; With heads erect, and w-himpering cry. The hounds behind their passage ply. Nor frequent does the bright oar break The dark'ning mirror of the lake. Until the rocky isle they reach. And moor their shallop on the beach. XXV. The stranger view'd the shore around ; 'T was all so close with copsewood bound. Nor track nor pathway might declare That human foot frequented there, Until the mountain-maiden show'd A clambering unsuspected road, That winded through the tangled screen, And open'd on a narrow green, Where weeping birch and willow round With their long fibres swept the grcnuvl. Here, for retreat in dangerous hour, Some chief had framed a rustic bower. \X\T. It was a Iodide of ample si/e. 1)111 straiigr of striicUire and drvKX- ; nf such mad-rials, as around 'Hie workman's hand had rradicsl found. 46 The L(T(iy of the Lake. lA-..-^ \ '%Vo The Lady of the Lake. 47 - W^ ¥ Some chief had framed a rustic bovver. Lopp'd of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared , And by the hatchet rudely squared, To give the walls their destined height, I'he sturdy oak and ash unite; While moss and clay and leaves conibined To fence each crevice from the wind. The lighter pine-trees, overhead, Their slender length for rafters sj-jread, And wither'd heath and rushes dry Supplied a russet canopy. Due westward, fronting to the green, A rural portico was seen. Aloft on native })illars borne, Of mountain fir with bark unshorn. Where I-'Jlen's hand liad taught to twine The ivy and Ida-an \ iiie, 48 The Lady of the Lake. The clematis, the favor'd flower Which boasts the name of vir^^in-bower, And 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 I" XXVII. "■ My hope, my heaven, my trust must be My gentle guide, in following thee." He cross'd the threshold — and a clang Of angry steel that instant rang. To his bold brow his spirit rush'd, But soon for vain alarm he blush'd. When on the floor he saw display'd. Cause of the din, a naked blade Dropp'd from the sheath, that careless flung Upon a Slag'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 tusk'd trophies of the boar. Here grins the wolf as when he died, And there the wild-cat's brindled hide The frontlet of the elk adorns, Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ; The Lady of the Lake. 49 '^.r U. ^ I Tkophies of the fight ok chase. Pennons and flags defaced and stain'd That blackening streaks of blood retain'd And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, With otter's furs and seal's unite, In rude and uncouth tapestry all, To garnish forth the sylvan hall. XXVIII. The woii(l(M-ini;- stranger round him ga/cd And next the fallen weapon raised : — 5© The Lady of t/u Lake. Few were the arms whose sinewy strength Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. And as the brand he poised and sway'd, '' I never knew but one," he said, *• Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield A blade like this in battle-field." She sigh'd, then smiled, and took the word ; ** You see the guardian champion's sword ; As light it trembles in his hand. 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, ]\Iature of age, a graceful dame ; Whose easy step and stately port Had well become a princely court, To whom, though more than kindred knew, Young Ellen gave a mother's due. ]\Ieet welcome to her guest she made, And every courteous rite was paid. That hospitalit}^ could claim. Though all unask'd his birth and name. Such then the reverence of a guest, That fellest foe might join the feast, And from his deadliest foeman's door Unquestion'd turn, the banquet o'er. The Lady of the Lake. 5 i I NK\ I'.k KNKW lu r oMC," III-: SAID, "\\iii>sh: sr.M.\v\Kr ARM MILilir HKOOK-TO WIKLU A MLADE I. IKK IHIS IN BATTLE-KIELD." 52 The Lady of the Lake. 1 HE MISTRESS OF THE jMANSION CAIME. At length his rank the stranger names, " The Knight of Snowdoun, James 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 fall'n in such turmoil, And he, God wot, was forced to stand Oft for his right with blade in hand. Fitz- 21ie Lady of the Lake. 53 This morning with Lord Moray's train He chased a stalwart stag- in vain, Outstripp'd his comrades, miss'd the deer, Lost his good steed, and wander'd here." XXX. Fain would the Knight in turn require The name and state of Ellen's sire. Well show'd the elder lady's mien, That courts and cities she had seen ; Ellen, though more her looks display'd The simple grace of sylvan maid, In speech and gesture, form and face, Show'd she was come of gentle race. ' 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, Turn'd 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 V\\\\\ up the symphony brtween. 54 ^'/^^' Lady of the Lake. XXXI. SOXG. •* Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking ; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall. Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more ; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking. '' Xo 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 At the daybreak from the fallow, And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near. Guards nor warders challenge here, Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping." The Lady of the Lake. 55 XXXII. She paused — then, blushing, led the lay To grace the stranger of the day. Her mellow notes awhile prolong The cadence of the flowing song, Till to her lips in measured frame The minstrel verse spontaneous came. SONG CONTINUED. " Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done. While our slumbrous spells assail ye, Dream not, with the rising sun, Bugles here shall sound 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 c^iear'd — the stranger's bin! Was there of mountain heathiM* spread. Where oft a hundred guests had lain, And drcam'd their forest sports again. I)Ul vainly did the lu-ath-llowcr slu'd Us moorland fragrance louiul his lu\ul ; 5 6 The Lady of the Lake. Not Ellen's spell had luU'd to rest The fever of his troubled breast. In broken dreams the image rose Of varied perils, pains, and woes : His steed now flounders in the brake, Now sinks his barge upon the lake ; Now leader of a broken host, His standard falls, his honor's lost. Then, — from my couch may heavenly might Chase that worst phantom of the night I — Again return 'd the scenes of youth, Of confident undoubting truth ; Again his soul he interchanged With friends whose hearts were long estranged. They come, in dim procession led. The cold, the faithless, and the dead ; As warm each hand, each brow as gay, As if they parted yesterday. And doubt distracts him at the view, O were his senses false or true ! Dream'd he of death, or broken vow, Or is it all a vision now ! XXXIV. At length, with Ellen in a grove He seem'd to walk, and speak of love ; She listen'd with a flush and sigh, His suit was w^arm, his hopes were high. He sought her yielded hand to clasp, And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : The Lady of the Lake. 57 The phantom's sex was changed and gone, Upon its head a helmet shone ; Slowly enlarged to giant size, With darkened cheek and threatening eyes, .^^ t/^'- UroN lis IIKAI) A MHLMKI- SIIONli. The grisly visage, stern and hoar. To Kllen still a likeiuss bore. — He woke, and, panting with affright. Kc'call'd the vision of the night. 58 The Lady of the Lake. The hearth's decaying brands were red, And deep and dusky lustre shed, Half showing, half concealing, all The uncouth trophies of the hall. Mid those the stranger fix'd his eye. Where that huge falchion hung on high, And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, Rush'd, chasing countless thoughts along, Until, the giddy whirl to cure, He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. XXXV. The wild-rose, eglantine, and broom. Wasted around their rich perfume : . The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm. The aspens slept beneath the calm ; The silver light, with quivering glance, Play'd on the w^ater's still expanse, — Wild were the heart whose passions' 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 exil'd race } Can I not mountain-maiden spy. But she must bear the Douglas eye ? Can I not view a Highland brand. But it must match the Douglas hand ? Can I not frame a fever'd dream. But still the Douglas is the theme } The Lady of the Lake. 59 And moumng dawnku on Blnvenue. I'll dream no iiiorc^ by manly mind Not even in sleep is will resign *d.. My midnii^-ht orisons said o'er, I'll turn to rest, and dream no more." His midnit^'lit orisons he told, A prayer with every bead of gold, Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, And sunk in undisturb'd repose; Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, And morniii'*" daw ii'd on iuMU'eiuie. 6o The Lady of ilie Lake CANTO SECOND. The Island. I. At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 'Tis morning prompts the Hnnet's blithest lay. All Nature's children feel the matin spring Of life reviving, with reviving day ; And while yon httle bark glides down the bay. Wafting the stranger on his way again. Morn's genial intiuence roused a minstrel gra)^ And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, ]\Iix'd with the sounding harp, O white-hair'd Allan-Bane I II. SONG. •* Not faster yonder rowers' might Flings from their oars the spray. Not faster yonder rippling bright That tracts the shallop's course in light, ]\Ielts in the lake away. Than man from memory erase The benefits of former days ; Then, stranger, go ! good speed the while, Nor think aq;ain of the lonelv isle. The Lady of the Lake. 6i ' High place to thee in royal court, High place in battle line, Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport, Where beauty sees the brave resort, The honor'd meed be thine ! True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, And lost in love and friendship's smile Be memory of the lonely isle. HI. SONG CONTINUED. ' But if beneath yon southern sky A plaided stranger roam. Whose drooping crest and stilled 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 ; Kcmember then thy hap ere while, A stranger in the lonely isle. ' 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 lieneath the fickle gale ; Waste not a sigh on fortune changed. ( )n thanklc-ss courts, or friends estranged. But eoine wlierc kiii'lrcd worth shaU smile. To '-rcrt thee in the loiuh' isle." 62 The Lady of the Lake. IV. As died the sounds upon the tide, The shallop reach'd the mainland side, And ere his onward way he took, The stranger cast a lingering look, If beneath yon southern sky a plaided stranger roam. Where easily his eye might reach The Harper on the islet beach, Reclined against a blighted tree, As wasted, gray, and worn as he. 77/ J Lady of the Lake. 63 To minstrel meditation given, His reverend brow was raised to heaven, As from tlie rising- sun to claim A sparkle of inspiring flame. His hand reclined upon the wire, Seem'd watching the awakening fire ; So still he sate, as those who wait Till judgment speak the doom of fate ; 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 r.pcd. V. Upon a rock with lichens wild, lieside him Ellen sate and smiled, — Smiled she to see the stately drake Lead forth his Heet upon the lake, While her vexed spaniel, from the beach, Hay'd at the prize beyond his reach ? Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows, Why deepen'd on her cheek the rose ? Forgive, forgive, I'ldelity ! Perchance the maiden smiled lo sec Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, And stoj) and turn to wave anew ; And. lowly ladies, crc youi' ire Condemn llu- luToiiie of my l\re. Show me ihe fair would scorn lo spv. And pri/.f SLich conciuoi of hrr eye ! 64 llie Lady of the Lake. VI. While yet he loiter'd on the spot, It seem'd as Ellen mark'd him not ; But when he turn'd him to the glade, One courteous parting sign she made : ■\ 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. The Lady of the Lake. Now with a trusty mountain-guide, And his dark stag-hounds by his side, He parts — the maid unconscious still, Watch'd him wind slowly round the hill ; But when his stately form was hid, The guardian in her bosom chid — " Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid ! " 'T was thus upbraiding conscience said, — " Not so had Malcolm idly hung On the smooth phrase of southern tongue ; Not so had Malcolm strain'd his eye, Another step than thine to spy. Wake, Allan-Bane," aloud she cried. To the old Minstrel by her side, — " Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! I'll give thy harp heroic theme, And warm thee with a noble name ; Voiw forth the glory of the Gramme ! " Scarce from her lips the word had rush'd, When deep the conscious maiden blush'd : For of his c^lan, in hall and bower, ^^)ung Malcolm (jraMne was held the llowcr. VII. The Minstrel waked his harp thi'ee times Arose the well-known niai'lial ehiines. And thrice their high hei-oii^ j^ride In melancholy inuiinni's died. " \'ainly thou bid's!. ( ) noble maid," Clasping his wilheicd hands, he said. 66 The Lady of the Lake, " Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain, Though all unwont to bid in vain. Alas ! than mine a mightier hand Has tuned my harp, my strings has spann'd ! 1 touch the cords of joy, but low And mournful answer notes of woe ; And the proud march, which victors tread, Sinks in the wailing for the dead. O well for me, if mine alone That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! If, as my tuneful fathers said. This harp, which erst Saint Modan sway'd, Can thus its master's fate foretell. Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ! VIIT. " But ah ! dear lady, thus it sigh'd The eve thy sainted mother died ; And such the sounds which, while I strove To. wake a lay of war or love, •Came marring all the festal mirth, Appalling m"e who gave them birth, And, disobedient to my call, Wail'd loud through Bothwell's banner'd hall Ere Douglasses, to ruin driven. Were exiled from their native heaven. Oh ! if yet w^orse mishap and woe. My master's house must undergo, Or aught but weal to Ellen fair, Brood in these accents of despair. The Lady of the Lake. (^1 Then shivered shall thy fka(;ments lie. No future bard, sad Harp I shall fling Triumph or rapture from thy striiii^-; One short, one final strain shall tlow, Fraught with unutterable woe, Then shiver'd shall thy fragments lie, Thy master cast him down and die ! " IX. Soothing she answer'd him. " Assuage. Mine honor'd friend, the fears of age ; All melodies to thee are known. That harp has rung, or pipe has blown. In Lowland vale or I Highland glen. From Tweed to Spey — what marvel, ilun, At times, unbidden notes should rise. Confusedly bound in memory's ties. Kntangiing as they rush along. 'l"he war-march with \\w funeral son;^ " Small ground is now foi- boding fear; Obscure, but safe, we icst us here. 68 The Lady of the Lake. Aly sire, in native virtue great, Resigning- lordship, lands, and state, Not then to fortune more resign 'd, Than yonder oak might give the wind ; The graceful foliage storms may reave. The noble stem they cannot grieve. For me," — shestoop'd, and,~ looking round Pluck'd a blue hare-bell from the ground,- " For me, whose memory scarce conveys An image of more splendid days, A BLTE HAKE-BELL. This little flower that loves the lea, May well my simple emblem be ; It drinks heaven's due as blithe as rose That in the king's own garden grows ; And when I place it in my hair, Allan, a bard is bound to swear He ne'er saw coronet so fair." Then playfully the.chaplet wild She wreath'd in her dark locks, and smiled. The Lady of tnc Lake, 69 Sill'. W ICI' A I Itl- I> IN IIIK 1>.\UK l.t»t KS 70 The Lady of fJie Lake. X. Her smile, her speech, with winning sway, Wiled the old harper's mood away, With such a look as hermits throw. When angels stoop to soothe their woe, He gazed, till fond regret and pride Thrill'd to a tear, then thus replied : " Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st The rank, the honors, thou hast lost ! O might I live to see thee grace, In Scotland's court, thy birth-right place. 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 I " XL " Fair dreams are these, " the maiden cried. . (Light was her accent, yet she sighed ; ) " Yet is this mossy rock to me Worth splendid chair and canopy ; Nor would my footsteps spring more gay \\\ courtly dance than blithe strathspey, Xor 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, — - The Lady of the Lake. 7 r Thou, flattering- bard ! thyself wilt say, That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. The Saxon scourge. Clan -Alpine's pride, The terror of Loch Lomond's side, Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay A Lennox foray — for a day." XIL The ancient bard her glee repress'd : " 111 hast thou chosen theme for jest ! For who, through all this western wild. Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled ! In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; I saw, when back the dirk he drew. Courtiers give place Before the stride Of the undaunted homicide ; And since, though outlaw'd, hath his hand, l^\ill sternly kept "his mountain land. Who else dare give — ah,! woe the day. That I such hated truth should say— The Douglas, like a stricken deer, Disowned by every noble peer, Even the rude refuge we have here ? Alas, this wild marauding Chief Alone might hazard oiu' relief, And now thy maiden charms expand. Looks for his guci'don in thy hand ; P^ill soon may dispensation sought. To back his suit fioni Rome be brought. Then, though an exile on the hill. Thv father, as the Don-las, si ill 72 27ie Lady of the Lake. Be held in reverence and fear ; And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear, That thou mightst guide with silken thread, Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread ; Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! Thy hand is on a lion's marie. "— 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 bestov\', To Lady Margaret's care I owe. Since first an orphan in the wild She sorrow'd o'er her sister's child ; To her brave chieftain son, from ire Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire. A deeper, holier debt is owed ; And, could I pay it with my blood, Allan ! Sir Roderick should command My blood, my life, — but not my hand. Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; Rather through realms beyond the sea, Seeking the world's cold charity. Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, An outcast pilgrim will she rove, Than wed the man she cannot love. I'/ie Lady of t/ic Lake. 73 XIV. " Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses gray — That pleading look, what can it say But what I own ? — I grant him brave, But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave ; And generous — save vindictive mood, Or jealous transport, chafe his blood : I grant him true to friendly band, As his claymore is to his hand ; But O ! 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 w ind. 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 1 clasi) it reeking red, From peasants slaughter'd in their shed } No ! wildly while his virtues gleam. They make his passions darker seem. And flash along his spirit high, Like lightning o'er the midniL^ht sky. While yet a (^hild, and iMiiUht-n know. Instinctive taught, the frit-nd and foe. - I shudder'd at his brow of gloom. His shadowy plaid, and sable plume ! 74 The Lady of the Lake. A maiden grown, I iii couid bear His haughty mien and lordly air ; But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim. In serious mood, to Roderick's name, I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er A Douglas knew the word, with fear. To change such odious theme were best, — What think'st thou of our stranger oaiest ^ A 51 ASS OF ASHES SLAKED WITH BLOOD. 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. The Lady of the Lake. 75 What time he leagued, no longer foes, His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow The footstep of a secret foe. If courtly spy hath harbor'd here, What may we for the Douglas fear ? What for this island, deem'd 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 ; Still, though thy sire the peace renew'd, Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud ; Beware ! — But hark, what sounds are these ? My dull ears catch no faltering breeze. No weeping birch, nor aspens wake. Nor breath is dimpling in the lake. Still is the canna's hoary beard, Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — And hark again ! some pij^e of war Sends the bold pibroch from afar." XVI. l'\'ir up the k'ngllu'n'd lakr were spird i""()ur (larkt-ning spec^ks uj^on ihr tide. Thai, slow enlarging on the \ic\\, I''oiii- inanu'd and masted barges grew, 76 The Lady of the Lake. And, bearing downwards from Glengylc, Steer'd full upon the lonely isle ; The point of Brianchoil they pass'd, And, to the windward as they cast. Against the sun they gave^to shine The bold Sir Roderick's banner'd Pine. Nearer and nearer as they bear, Spear, pikes, and axes flash in air. Now might you see the tartans brave, And plaids and plumage dance and wave : Now see the bonnets sink and rise, As his tough oar the rower plies ; See, flashing at each sturdy stroke. The wave ascending into smoke ; See the proud pipers on the bow. And mark the gaudy streamers flow From their loud chanters down, and sweep The furrow'd bosom of the deep, As, rushing through the lake amain, They plied the ancient Highland strain. XVII. Ever, as on they bore, more loud And louder rung the pibroch proud. At first the sound, by distance tame, Mellow'd along the waters came. And, lingering long by cape and bay Wail'd every harsher note away ; Then, bursting bolder on the ear, The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear; 17ie Lady of the Lake. 77 Those thrilling' sounds, that call the might Of old Clan-Alpine to the tight. Thick beat the rapid notes^ as when The mustering hundreds shake the glen, Si'-.i-; Till': I'Koin iin-.Ns on ihk iu)\v. .\ii(l hurrying al ihc signal dread, '\'\w baltrr'd carlh ixiurns lluir ircail, Then pre hide \v^\\. ol liwliii" lone. I'Aprcss'd their UKrry in.uihing on. jS llie Lady of the Lake. Ere peal of closing battle rose, With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows ; A mimic din of stroke and ward. As broadsword upon target jarr'd ; And groaning pause, ere yet again. Condensed, the battle yell'd amain ; The rapid charge, the rallying shout, Retreat borne headlong into rout, And bursts of triumph, to declare Clan-Alpine's conquest— all were there. Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow Sunk in a moan prolong'd and low, And changed the conquering clarion swell, For wild lament o'er those that fell. XVIII. The war-pipes ceased ; but lake and hill Were busy with their echoes still ; And when they slept, a vocal strain Bade their hoarse chorus wake again. While loud a hundred clansmen raise Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. Each boatman, bendmg to his oar. With measured sweep the burden bore. In such wild cadence, as the breeze Makes through December's leafless trees. The chorus tirst could Allan know, " Roderick Vich Alpine, ho ! iro ! " And near, and nearer as they row'd, Distinct the martial ditty flow'd, The Lady of the Lake. 79 XIX. BOAT SONG. Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances I Honor'd and bless'd be the ever-green Pine I 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 Send our shout back agen, *' Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade ; When the whirlwind has stripp'd every leaf on the mountain. The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. Moor'd in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest's shock. Firmer he roots him the ruder it blows ; Menteith and Breadalbanc, then. Echo his praise agaiti, " Roderigh V'ich Al[)ine dlui. ho ! ieroe ! " XX. Proiidlv our pibroch has thrill'd in Cilru |-riiin. And Pi.-miiaehar's j-roaus lo our slogan replied ; 8o The Lady of the Lake. Glen Lus and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side. Widow and Saxon maid Long shall lament our raid, 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 High- lands Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine ! O I that the rose-bud that graces yon islands, Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine. O, that some seedling gem. Worthy such noble stem. Honor 'd and blessed in their sh-adow might grow ! Loud should Clan-Alpine then Ring from her deepest glen, " Roderigh \Mch Alpine dhu, ho I ieroe I " XXI. W^ith all her joyful female band, Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. Loose on the breeze their tresses flew. And high their snowy arms they threw, The Lady of the Lake. 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 ? " — Reluctantly and slow, the maid The unwelcome summoning obey'd. And, when a distant bugle rung. In the mid-path aside she sprung : — ** List, Allan-Bane ! From mainland cast, I hear my father's signal blast, Be ours," she cried, " the skiff to guide, And waft him from the mountain-side." Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright. She darted to her shallop light. And, eagerly while Roderick scann'd, For her dear form, his mother's band, The islet far behind her lay. And she had landed in the bay. XXII. Some feelings are to mortals given. With less of earth in them than heaven : And if there be a human tear From passion^ dross retined and clear, A tear so liini)id and so meek, it would not stain an au'-cl's clu'ck. Sz The LaJy of the Lake. She DAKTIiD TO HKK SHAF.LOF LIGH The Lady of the Lake. Z^^ 'T is that which pious fathers shed Upon a'duteous daughter's head ! And as the Douglas to his breast His darling Ellen closely press'd, Such holy drops her tresses steep'd, Though 't was an hero's eye thai weep'd. Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue Her filial welcomes crowded hung, Mark'd she, that fear (affection's proof; Still held a graceful youth aloof ; No ! not till Douglas named his name. Although the youth was Malcolm (irctme. XXIII. Allan, with wistful look the while, Mark'd Roderick landing on the isle •, His master piteously he eyed. Then gazed upon the Chieftain's j)ride, Then dash'd, with hasty hand, away From his dimm'd eye the gathering spra\- ; And Douglas, as his hand he laid On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said, "Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spv In my poor follower's glistening eye ? I'll tell thee : he recalls the day. When in my i:)raise he led the lav O'er the arch'd gate of liothwell proud. While many a minstrel answer'd loud. When I'en^y's Norman pennon won In hloodv lie Id before me shone. S4 The Lady of the Lake, And twice ten knights, the least a name As mighty as yon Chief may claim, Gracing my pomp, behind me came. Castle of the DoroLAS. Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud Was I of all that marshall'd crowd, Though the waned crescent own'd my might, And in my train troop'd lord and knight. The Lady of the Lake. 85 Though Blantyre hymn'd her holiest lays And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise As when this old man's silent tear, And this poor maid's affection dear, A welcome give more kind and true. Than aught my better fortunes knew. Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, O ! it out-beggars all I lost ! " XXIV. Delightful praise ! — Like summer rose, That brighter in the dew-drop glows. The bashful maiden's cheek appear 'd, For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. The flush of shame-faced joy to hide, The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide. 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, relaxYl 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'erwcigh'd Ium" worth and l)c\-iiiiv aiii^ht. Well miglU the lowr's judgmciit fail To balancH' w iih a justcr sc\-ilc ; For Vv'ilh each sf(MTt glance he stole, The fond ciil IiM^i.'isi sent his soul. 86 27ie Lady of the Lake. XXV. Of stature tall, and slender frame, But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. The belted plaid and tartan hose Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose ; His flaxen hair of sunny hue, Curl'd closely round his bonnet blue. Train'd to the chase, his eagle eye The ptarmigan in snow could spy : Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath. He knew, through Lennox and Menteith : Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe. When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, And scarce that doe, though wing'd with fear, Outstripp'd in speed the mountaineer : Right up Ben Lomond could he press, .And not a sob his toil confess. His form accorded with a minJ Lively and ardent, frank and kind ; A blither heart till Ellen came, Did never love or sorrow tame ; It danced as lightsome in his breast. As play'd the feather on his crest. Yet friends who nearest knew the youth. His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, And bards, who saw his features bold When kindled by the tales of old, Said, were that youth to manhood grown, Not lono^ should Roderick Dhu's renown The Lady of the Lake. 87 MaI.c dim ( I U' 1 \||.. SS The Lady of the Lake, Be foremos: voiced by n:oui::a:ii fame, But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme. XXVI. Now back the)' wend their water}' way. And, ** O my sire ! " did Ellen sa}^ *• Wh}' urge thy chase so far astray ? And wh\' so late return 'd ? And why " — The rest was in her speaking eye. ** My child, the chase I follow far, *T is mimicr\^ of noble war ; And with that gallant pastime reft Were all of Douglas I have left. I met young Malcolm as I stray 'd. Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade. Nor stra\''d I safe ; for, all around. Hunters and horsemen scour 'd the ground. This youth, though still a rojal ward, Risk'd Hfe and land to be my guard. And through the passes of the wood Guided my steps, not unpursued ; And Roderick shall his welcome make. Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen. Nor peril aught for me agen." XXVII. Sir Roderick, who to meet them came. Redden d at s\k ^^.\<;n■, c auai. a, and si-ki.ls, Thus llu- loiu" Scc-i', from inaiikiiul huiTd. Shaped loiih a (hscinbochrd woiKL 112 TJu Lady of the Lake. One lingering sympatiiy 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 neer might ride ; The thunderbolt had split the pine, — All augur 'd ill to Alpines line. He girt his loins, and came to show The signals of impending woe. And now stood prompt to bless or ban. As bade the Chieftain of his clan. VIII. 'T was all prepar d ; — 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 \ictim eyed The life-blood ebb in crimson tide, Down his clogg'd beard and shagg}' limb. Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, A slender crosslet form'd with care, A cubit's length in measure due ; The shaft and limbs were rods of vew, The Lady of the Lake. 113 Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave, And answering Lomond's breezes deep, Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. The Cross, thus form'd, he held on high, With wasted hand, and haggard eye. And strange and mingled feelings woke, While his anathema he spoke. IX. " Woe to the clansman, who shall view This symbol of sepul- chral yew, Forgetful that its branches grew Where weep the heavens their ho- liest dew On Alpine's dwel- ling low ! Deserter of his Chief- tain's trust. He ne'er shall niiu^lr with their dust. lUU. from his sires and kindred thrust. Eac^h clansman's e.\- (HM'ation just Shall (loom him wrath and woe." Tllh I urN'DKK'hOL'l 114 The Lady of the Lake The Cross, thus fokm'd, he held un high, with wasted haxmj, and haggard eve. The Lady of the Lake, 115 He paused ; — the word the vassals took, With forward step and fiery look, On high their naked brands they shook, Their clattering targets wildly strook ; • And first in murmur low, Then, like the billow in his course, That far to seaward finds his source, And flings to shore his muster'd 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. The exulting eagle scream'd afar, — They knew the voice of Alpine's war. X. The shout was hush'd on lake and fell. The monk resumed his mutter 'd spell : Dismal and low its accents came. The while he scathed the Cross with flame ; And the few words that reach'd the air, Although the holiest name was there. Had more of blasphemy than prayer. But when he shook above the crowd Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : — " Woe to the wretch who fails to rear At this dread sign the ready sjicar ! F^or, as the flames this symbol sear, His home, the refuge of his fear. A kindred fate shall know ; ii6 The Lady of the Lake, 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 goss-hawk's whistle on the hill, Denouncing misery and ill, Mingled with childhood's babbling trill Of curses stammer'd 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 where birches wave. On Beala-nam-bo. XI. Then deeper paused the priest anew, And hard his laboring breath he drew. While, with set teeth and clenched hand, And eyes that glow'd like fiery brand, He meditated curse more dread, And deadlier, on the clansman's head, Who, summon'd to his Chieftain's aid, The signal saw and disobey'd. The crosslet's points of sparkling wood, He quench'd among the bubbling blood, The Lady of the Lake, And, as again the sign he rear'd, Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard : " When flits this Cross from man to man, Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan, Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! Palsied the foot that shuns to speed ! May ravens tear the careless eyes, Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, So may his heart's-blood drench his hearth ! As dies in hissing gore the spark. Quench thou his light. Destruction dark ! And be the grace to him denied, Bought by this sign to all beside ! " He ceased ; no echo gave agen The murmur of the deep Amen. 'T.T'^-r^sHSSssaa^.^^ •g>x^ XII. Then l\()(1('ri(^k, witli impatient look, l''ro!H r)i-iairs hand tlir s\inl)ol took ; iiS The Lady of the Lake. " Speed, Malise, speed I " 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 ; High stood the henchman on the prow ; So rapidly the barge-men row. The bubbles, where they launch 'd the boat. Were all unbroken and afloat, Dancing in foam and ripple still, When it had near'd the mainland hill ; And from the silver beach's side Still was the prow three fathom wide. When lightly bounded to the land This messenger of blood and brand. XIIL Speed, Malise. speed ! the dun deer's hide On fleeter foot was never tied. Speed, Malise. speed ! such cause of haste Thine active sinews never braced. Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast. Burst down like torrent from its crest ; With short and springing footstep pass The trembling bog and false morass ; Across the brook like roebuck bound, And thread the brake like questing hound ; The crag is high, the scaur is deep, Yet shrink not from the desperate leap : The Lady of the Lake. i r 9 Wm-N i.ic.ini.Y iioi'NDi'.n in iiii- i \m> nils mkssknc.kk or ii|(M)1) ani> i»k\nh The Lady of the Lake, Parch "d are thy burning lips and brow, Yet by the fountain pause not now ; Herald of battle, fate, and fear, Stretch onward in thy fleet career ! The wounded hind thou track'st not now, Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough. Xor pliest thou now thy flying pace, With rivals in the mountain race ; But danger, death, and warrior deed, Are in thy course — speed, Malise, speed ! XIV. Fast as the fatal symbol flies. In arms the huts and hamlets rise ; From winding glen, from upland brown, They pour'd each hardy tenant down. Nor slack'd the messenger his pace ; He show'd the sign, he named the place. And pressing forward like the wind. Left clamor and surprise behind, The fisherman forsook the strand. The swarthy smith took dirk and brand ; With changed cheer, the mower blithe Left in the half-cut swathe the scythe. The herds without a keeper strayed. The plough was in mid-furrow stayed, The falc'ner toss'd his hawk away. The hunter left the stag at bay ; Prompt at the signal of alarms. Each son of Alpine rush'd to arms : 77ie Lady of the Lake. So swept the tumult and affray Along the margin of Achray. Alas, thou lovely lake ! that e'er Thy banks should echo sounds of fear ! The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep So stilly on thy bosom deep. The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud. Seems for the scene too gayly loud. Duncraggan's huts. XV. Speed, Malise, speed ! the lake is past, Duncraggan's huts appear at last, And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, Half hidden in the copse so green ; There mayest thou rest, thy labor ilonc. Their Lord shall speed the signal on. - As stoops the hawk upon his j^rev, The henchman shot him down the w av 122 The Lady of the Lake. — What woeful accents load the gale ? The funeral yell, the female wail I A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, A valiant warrior fights no more. Lies Duncan on his lowly bier. Who, in the battle or the chase, At Roderick's side shall hll his place ! — Within the hall, where torches' ray Supplies the excluded beams of day, Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, And o'er him streams his widow's tear. His stripling son stands mournful by, His youngest weeps, but knows not why ! The Lady of the Lake, 123 The village maids and matrons round The dismal coronach resound. XVI. CORONACH. He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest. The font, 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. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searcst. But our flower was in Hushing, When blighting was nearest. Fleet foot on the correi. Sage counsel in cumber. Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber I Like the dew on thr niounl.iin, Like the foam on iIk' ri\tr. Like the bubble on the fountain. Thou art gone, and for tvcr ! 124 ^/^^ Lady of the Lake. 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. 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 besmear'd with blood : " The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, speed I " xvm. Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. In haste the stripling to his side His father's dirk and broadsword tied ; But when he saw his mother's eye Watch him in speechless agony, Back to her open'd arms he flew, Press'd on her lips a fond adieu — " Alas ! " she sobb'd, — '' and yet, be gone, And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son ! " One look he cast upon the bier, Dash'd from his eye the gathering tear. llie Lady of the Lake, Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast, And toss'd aloft his bonnet crest, Then, Hke the high-bred colt, when, freed, First he essays his fire and speed, He vanish'd, and o'er moor and moss Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. Suspended was the widow's tear, While yet his footsteps she could hear ; And wlien she mark'd the henchman's eye Wet with unwonted sympathy, ** Kinsman," she said, " his race is run. That should have sped thine errand on ; The oak has fall'n — the sapling bough Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. Yet trust I well, his duty done, The orphan's God will guard my son — And you, in many a danger true, At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, To arms, and guard that orphan's head I Let babes and women wail the dead." Then weapon-clang, and martial call. Resounded through the funeral hall. While from the walls the attcndaiU band Snatch'd sword and targe, wilh hurried hand ; And short and flitting eiurgv Glanced from the mourner's sunken c\-e As if the sounds to wai^rior dear Might rouse her Duncan from his bk r. Hut faded soon that borrow'd force ; 'Grief claimM his ri'-hl. and tears their course. 126 The Lady of tlu Lake, XIX. Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. O'er dale and hill the summons flew. Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew Firmer he grasp'd the Cross of strife. 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. The chapel of St. Bride was seen. The Lady of the Lake. 1 2 7 Svvoln was the stream, remote the bridge, But Angus paused not on the edge ; Though the dark waves danced dizzily, Though reel'd his sympathetic eye, He dash'd amid the torrent's roar : His right hand high the crosslet bore, His left the pole-axe grasp'd, to guide And stay his footing in the tide. He stumbled twice — the foam splash'd high, With hoarser swell the stream raced by ; And had he fall'n, — forever there, Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir I But still, as if in parting life. Firmer he grasp'd the Cross of strife. Until the opposing bank he gain'd. And up the chapel pathway strain'd. XX. A blithesome rout, that morning tide, Had sought the chapel of St. Bride. Her troth Tombea's Mary gave To Norman, heir of Armandave, And, issuing from the (lOthic 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 snoodcd maiden would not hear; And children, that, uiiwitliiiv; why. Lent the gay shout their shrillv cr\ ; 12^ The Lady of the Lake. And minstrels, that in measures \'ied 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 words of cheer. Chapel of St. Bride. XXI. Who meets them at the churchyard gate i The messenoer of fear and fate I The Lady of the Lake. Haste in his hurried accent lies, And orief is swimming in his eyes. All drippino- from the recent flood, Panting- and travel-soil'd he stood, 129 -^ Thk I'.kium Now |v'usi'mi.:i> iiii-ik- makm 11. The fatal sj.^n of lire and swoid llrld foiih. ;md spnki' llic .ii>p()iiit cd word 130 The Lady of the Lake. " The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed I " And must he change so soon the hand, Just link'd to his by holy band, For the fell Cross of blood and brand ? And must the day, so blithe that rose. And promised rapture in the close, Before its setting hour, divide The bridegroom from the plighted bride ? O fatal doom ! — it must ! it must ! Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust. Her summons dread, brook no delay ; Stretch to the race — away ! away ! XXII. Yet slow he laid his plaid aside. And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride. Until he saw the starting tear Speak 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 stirr'd ? The sickening pang of hope deferr'd. And memory, with a torturing train. Of all his morning visions vain. Mingled w^ith love's impatience, came The manly thirst for martial fame ; The stormy joy of mountaineers, Ere yet they rush upon the spears ; The La(fy of llie Lake, 1 3 1 And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burnin;^., And hope, from well-fought field returning, With war's red honors on his crest, To clasp his Mary to his breast. Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae, Like fire from fiint 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. My couch may be my bloody plaid. My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid ! It will not waken me, Mary I I may not, dare not, fancy now The grief that clouds thy lovely brow. 1 dare not think upon thy vow. And all it promised me, Mary. No fond regret uuist Norman know; When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, His iK'arl iniisl be like briuled bow, I lis foot like ai"i'ow Iree. Mai\'. A lime will eomc with fecliui; fraiii^ht. I'or. if 1 fall in battle fought. 132 The Lady of flic Lake. Thy hapless lover's dying thought Shall be a thought on thee. Mary. And if return 'd from conquer 'd foes, How blithely will the evening close, How sweet the linnet sing repose, To mv voung bride and me, Marv XXIV. Xot faster o'er thy heathery braes, Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze. Rushing, in conflagration strong, Thy deep ravines and dells along, Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow. And reddening the dark lakes below ; Xor 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 \6\\, Waked still Loch Doine. and to the source Alarm'd, Balvaig, thy swampy course ; Then southward turn'd its rapid road Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, Till rose in arms each man might claim A portion in Clan- Alpine's name, From the gray sire, whose trembling hand Could hardly buckle on his brand. To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow Were yet scarce terror to the crow. Each valley, each sequester'd glen, Muster'd its little horde of men. l^ie Lady of the Lake. 133 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 train'd to arms since life began. Owning no tie but to his clan, No oath, but by his chieftain's hand, No law, but Roderick Dhu's command. XXV. That summer morn had Roderick Dhu Survey'd the skirts of Benvenuc, And sent his scouts o'er hill and heaih. To view the frontiers of Menteith. And backward came with news of truce ; Still lay each martial (ira'nic and I>ruce, In Rednoch courts no horsemen wait, No banner waved on Cardross gate, On Duchray's towers no l)ca(M)n shone. Nor scared the herons from Loch Con ; All seem'd at peace. — Now, wot ye why The Chieftain, with such anxious eye. Mre to the muster he repair. This westci'ii fronlici" scann'd with c\'U*e .^ — in Benveiuu''s most darksonu' elell. A fair, though cruel. i)K'(lg(' was Iclt ; l"'oi" i )()U^las, to his pi'oinisc tiiie. 'Hiat inoiiiiii'' lioni ilic isle w il hdii'W. 134 The Lady of the Lake. And in deep sequester'd dell Had sought a low and lonely cell, By many a bard, in Celtic tongue, Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung : ..^^ A softer name the Sax- ons gave, And call'd the grot the Goblin-cave. liEN VENUE. XXVI. It was a wild and strange retreat. As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. The Lady of the Lake, 135 The dell upon the mountain crest, Yawn'd like a gash on warrior's breast ; Its trench had stay'd full many a rock, Hurl'd by primeval earthquake shock From Benvenue's gray summit wild ; And here, in random ruin piled, They frown'd incumbent o'er the spot, And form'd the rugged sylvan grot. The oak and birch, with mingled shade. At noontide there a twilight made. Unless when short and sudden shone Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, With such a glimpse as prophet's eye Gains on thy depth. Futurity. No murmur waked the solemn still, Save tinkling of a fountain rill ; But when the wind chafed w^ith the lake, A sullen sound would upward break, With dashing hollow voice that spoke The incessant w^ar of wave and rock. Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway. Seem'd nodding o'er the cavern gray. From such a den the wolf had sprung. In such the wild-cat leaves her young ; Yet Douglas and his daughter fair Sought for a space their safety there. Gray Superstition's whisper dread Debarr'd the spot to vulgar tread ; For there, she said, did fays resort. And satvrs hold their svlvan (M)urt. 136 21ie Lady of t/id Lake. By moonlight tread their mystic maze, And blast the rash beholder's gaze. XXVII. Now eve with western shadows long, Floated on Katrine bright and strong. When Roderick, with a chosen few, Repass'd the heights of Benvenue. 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 Lock 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-levell'd sunbeam's light I 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 The Lady of the Lake »37 A wild and warlike group they stand, That well became such mountain-strand. A wii.i) AM) wAKi IK1-: (iuour rnKV sianu. XW'lli. 'riu'ir C'liicf, wiili step rcluclaiit. still Was lin;^c'riii;^ on the- ;ail) she knew ; 1 68 The Lady of the Lake, And then her hands she wildly wrung, And then she wept, and then she sung A WASTED FEMALE FORM. She sung ! — the voice in better time, Perchance to harp or lute might chime; And now though strain'd and roughen'd, still Runc^ wildlv sweet to dale and hill. The Lady of the Lake, 169 XXII. SONG. They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, They say my brain is warp'd and wrung — I cannot sleep on Highland brae, I cannot pray in Highland tongue. But were I now where Allan glides, Or heard my native Devan's tides, So sweetly would I rest, and pray That heaven would close my wintry day ! 'T was thus my hair they bade me braid, They bade me to the church repair ; It was my bridal morn they said, And my true love would meet me there. But woe betide the cruel guile. That drown'd 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 1 She hovers o'er the hollow way, And flutters wide her mantle gray, As the lone heron spreads his wing, By twilight, o'er a haunted spring." — **'T is Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said, " A crazed and captive Lowland maid, Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, When Roderick foray 'd Devan-side. lyo The Lady of the Lake. The gay bridegroom resistance made, And felt our Chief's unconquer'd blade. I marvel she is now at large, But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge. — Hence, brain-sick fool I " — He raised his bow : — " Now, if thou strikest her but one blow, I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far As ever peasant pitch'd a bar I " — ** Thanks, champion, thanks I " the INIaniac cried, And press'd her to Fitz-James's side. " See the gray pennons I prepare, To seek my true-love through the air I 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 brush and brier in mid air staid, Wave forth a banner fair and free, Meet signal for their revelry." — XXIV. **Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still I ' " O I 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. The Lady of the Lake. 1 7 i '' For O my sweet William was forester true, He stole poor Blanche's heart away! His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, And so blithely he trill'd the Lowland lay ! '' It was not that I meant to tell . . . But thou art wise and guessest well." Then, in a low and broken tone. And hurried note, the song went on. Still on the Clansm.an, fearfully, She fixed her apprehensive eye ; Then turn'd it on the Knight, and then Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. XXV. ** The toils are pitchVl, and the stakes are set. Ever singing merrily, merrily ; The bows they bend, and the knives they whel. 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 wouiuknl ^Vw, She was bleeding deathfnily ; Sh<- wani'd him of the toils be-low, (). so f.iiihfullv. f.iiilifullv ! 172 The Lady of the Lake. *' He had an eye, and he could heed, Ever sing warily, warily ; He had a foot and he could speed — Hunters watch so narrowly." XXVI. Fitz-James's mind was passion-toss'd. 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 blade on high. " Disclose thy treachery, or die ! " Forth at full speed the Clansman flew. But in his race his bow he drew. The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest, And thrill'd in Blanche's faded breast. — Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed, For ne'er had Alpine's son such need ! With heart of fire, and foot of wind, The fierce avenger is behind ! Fate judges of the rapid strife — The forfeit death — the prize is life ! Thy kindred ambush lies before. Close couch'd upon the heathery moor ; Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not be— Thine ambush'd kin thou ne'er shall see. The fiery Saxon gains on thee ! 21ie Lady of the Lake, 173 Ml'KDO^II (iV AlIINK. 174 The Lady of the Lake. Resistless speeds the deadly thrust. As lightning strikes the pine to dust ; With foot and hand Fitz- James must strain. Ere he can win his blade again. Bent o'er the fall'n, with falcon eye, He grimly smiled to see him die : Then slower wended back his way Where the poor maiden bleeding Jay. XXVII. She sate beneath the birchen-tree, Her elbow resting on her knee : She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, And gazed on it. and feebly laugh 'd ; Her wreath of broom and feathers gray, Daggled with blood beside her lay. The Knight to 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, And something tells me in thine eye, That thou wert mine avenger born. — Seest thou this tress } — O ! still I've w on\ This little tress of yellow hair, Through danger, frenzy, and despair ! It once was bright and clear as thine. But blood and tears have dimm'd its shine. The Lady of the Lake. i 7 5 I will not tell thee vvhen 't was shred, Nor from what guiltless victim's head — My brain would turn I — but it shall wave Like plumage on thy helmet brave, Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, And thou wilt bring it me again. — I waver still. — O God ! more bright Let reason beam her parting light ! — 01 by thy knighthood's honor'd sign, And for thy life preserved by mine, When thou shalt see a darksome man, Who boasts him Chiaf of Alpine's clan, With tartans broad and shadowy plume. And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong — They watch fo; thee by pass and fell . . . Avoid the path . . . O God ! . . . farewell." XXV II I. A kindly heart had brave Filz- James ; Fast pour'd 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 I " A lock from Blanche's tresses fair lie blended with her bridegroom's hair; The niiii'^lcd braid in blood he dvcd. And placed il on his honncl-side : 176 The Lady of the Lake. ** By Him whose word is truth I I swear No other favor will I w^ear. Till this sad token I imbrue In the best blood of Roderick Dhu! — But hark I what means yon faint halloo ? The chase is up, — but they shall know. The stag at ba3"'s a dangerous foe.'* Barr'd from the known but guarded way. Through copse and cliff Fitz-James must stray, And oft must change his desperate track, By stream and precipice turn'd back. Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length. From lack of food and loss of strength. He couch'd him in a thicket hoar, And thought his toils and perils o'er : — " Of all my rash adventures past. This frantic feat must prove the last ! Who e'er so mad but might have guess'd, That all this Highland hornet's nest Would muster up in swarms so soon As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ? — Like bloodhounds now they search me out, — Hark to the whistle and the shout ! — If farther through the wilds I go, I only fall upon the foe : I'll couch me here till evening gray. Then darkling try my dangerous way." XXIX. The shades of eve come slowly down, The woods are wrapt in deeper brown. The Lady of the Lake, 1 7 7 The owl awakens from her dell, The fox is heard upon the fell ; Enough remains of glimmering light To guide the wanderer's steps aright. Yet not enough from far to show His figure to the watchful foe. With cautious step, and ear awake, He climbs the crag and threads the brake ; And not the summer solstice, there, Temper'd the midnight mountain air, But every breeze, that swept the wold, Benumb'd his drenched limbs with cold. In dread, in danger, and alone. Famish 'd and chill'd, through ways unknown, Tangled and steep, he journey'd on ; Till, as the rock's huge point he turn'd, A watch-fire close before him burn'd. XXX. Beside its embers red and clear, Bask'd, in his plaid, a mountaineer : And up he sprung wnth sword in hand, — " Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand ! " — '* A stranger." — " What dost thou require ? " — " Rest and a guide, and food and fire. My life's beset, my path is lost, The gale has chill'd my limbs with frost.** — " Art thou a friend to Roderick ? '* — " No.'* — " Thou darest not call thyself a foe } " — " 1 dare ! to liim and all his band He brings to aid his murderous liand." — 178 The Lady of the Lake " Bold words I — but, though the beast of game The privilege of chase may claim, Though space and law the stag we lend, Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, Who ever reck'd, where, how, or when, The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain ? Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie. Who say thou camest a secret spy ! " With cautious STEP, AND EAR AWAKE. " They do, by heaven !— Come Roderick Dhu, And of his clan the boldest two. And let me but till morning rest, I write the falsehood on their crest." — " If by the blaze I mark aright. Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight." ** Then by these tokens mayest thou know Each proud oppressor's mortal foe." — The Lady of the Lake. 1 7 9 TllV NAMK AND PUUI'OSk! SaXON, SIANU!"- I So The Lady of the Lahe. "Enough, enough ; sit down and share A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." XXXI. He gave him of his Highland cheer, The harden 'd flesh of mountain deer ; Dr}' fuel on the fire he laid, And bade the Saxon share his plaid. He tended him hke welcome guest, Then thus his further speech address'd. " Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu A clansman born, a kinsman true ; Each word against his honor spoke, 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. 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, The Lady of the Lake, As far as Coilantogle's ford ; From thence thy warrant is thy sword." ** I take thy courtesy, by Heaven, 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 gather'd heath. And spread his plaid upon the wreath ; And the brave foemen, side by side, Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, And slept until the dawning beam Purpled the mountain and the stream. CANTO FIFTH. The Combat. I. Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, When first by the bewilder'd pilgrim spied It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, And lights the fearful path on mountain side ;— Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, Giving to horror grace, to danger pride. Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star, Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War. II. That early beam, so fair and sheen, W^as twinkling through the hazel screen, When, rousing at its glimmer red. The warriors left their lowly bed, Look'd out upon the dappled sky, Mutter'd their soldier matins by. And then awaked their fire, to steal, As short and rude, their soldier meal. The Lady of the Lake. 183 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 Gain'd 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 ail but Beauty's tear. III. At length they came where, stern and steep. The hill sinks down upon the deep. Here Vennachar in silver flows. There, ridge on ridge, Iknledi rose ; I'Lvcr the hollow \i-A\\\ twined on, Beneath steep bank and threatening slonc ; An hundred men might hold the post With hardihood against a host. The rugged mountain's scanty cloak Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak. 184 The Lady of the Lake. With shingles bare, and cliffs between, And patches bright of bracken green. And heather black, that waved so high, It held the copse in rivalr}^ But where the lake slept deep and still, Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill ; And oft both path and hill were torn, Where wintry torrents 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 ask'd Fitz-James by what strange cause He sought these wilds traversed by few. Without a pass from Roderick 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, Bewilder'd in pursuit of game. All seem'd as peaceful and as still, As the mist slumbering on yon hill ; Thy dangerous chief was then afar, Nor soon expected back from war. Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide. Though deep perchance the villain lied." The Lady of the Lake. 185 ** Yet why a second venture try ? " — " A warrior thou, and ask me why ! — Moves our free course by such fix'd cause As gives the poor mechanic laws? Enough, I sought to drive away The lazy hours of peaceful day ; Slight cause will then suffice to guide A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — A falcon flown, a greyhound stray'd, The merry glance of mountain maid : Or, if a path be dangerous known, The danger's self is lure alone." V. " Thy secret keep, I urge thee not ; — Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, Say, heard ye not of Lowland war, Against Clan-Alpine, rais'd by Mar ? " — ** No, by my word ; — of bands prepared To guard King James's sports I heard ; Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear This muster of the mountaineer. Their pennons will abroad be flung. Which else in Doune had peaceful hung. '- " Free be they Hung ! for we were loth Their silken fold should feast the moth. Free be they Hung ! — as free shall wave Clan-Alpine's pine in bannor bravo. lUit, Stranger, peaceful since you came. Bevvilder'd in the mountain game, iS6 ITu LaJr fif ih£ Lake. Alda Alpme's Tow'd and mona! foe ? "" — ** Wairior, bosl: ^lestier-aioiFa, I knew Xan^lii: of thy Chiefitaiii, Rodeirkk Dhio. Sa¥€ as an oadaw"d despeirate man, Ttie daief of a rdielioiis dan, Who in the R<^en£ s cooit and s%fat. With ruffian d^^^oer stabbed a Luigfai ; Yet thb akioe ni%l^ finotn his part Seller each tnie and loval heait.'" Wf^aihfiGiI at sncii arra^iinient fooL I>ark lowered the dansnaan s sabUe sooirl A i^pace he passed, then saemlysaMJL *" And beaid'st thoa why he dmeis' his bSade? Heaid'st shoo that shamdol woffd and blow BFongtA Roderic^^s i:^iagea2a'oe on has foe ? What leckM the Chieftain if he stood On Highlaaid heath, or Holy-Rood ? He rights sodi wroi^ wheie it is gii^en. If it were in the court of heamen.'" — "^ Sdfl was k outra^ ; — yet, 't is true, Xot then cJannVl soi«e^nty his due ; ^Mr^f A!baiay, with feeble hand, H ^'d truncheon of command, T ' :: mew'cl in Stir^i^ tower, V r??5iect and power. i-in's robber life ! — -^ - , I . bf cai^dess strife. 77/o6 I'lie Lady of the Lake, Gray Stirling. Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride, With which he scales the mountain-side ? Know'st thou from whence he comes, or w^hom ? " ** No, by my word ; — a burly groom He seems, who in the field or chase A baron's train would nobly grace." — " Out, out, De Vaux ! can fear supply, And jealousy, no sharper eye ? Afar, ere to the hill he drew, That stately form and step I knew ; 21ie Lady of the Lake, 207 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. Away, away, to court, to show The near approach of dreaded foe : The King must stand upon his guard ; Douglas and he must meet prepared." Then right-hand wheel'd their steeds, and straight They won the castle's postern gate. XX. The Douglas, who had bent his way From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey gray, Now, as he climb'd the rocky shelf, Held sad communion with himself : ** Yes ! all is true my fears could frame; A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, And fiery Roderick soon will feel The vengeance of the royal steel. I, only I, can ward their fate, — God grant the ransom come not late ! The Abbess hath her promise given. My child shall be the bride of Heaven ; — — Be pardon 'd one repining tear ! For He, who gave her, knows how dear, How excellent ! but that is by. And now my business is — to die. — Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; 2 08 The Lady of the Lake. And thou, O sad and fatal mound ! That oft has heard the death-axe sound, As on the noblest of the land Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand, — They v/on the castle"s postern gate. The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom ! — But hark ! what blithe and jolly peal Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ? The Lady of the Lake, 209 And see ! upon the crowded street, In motley groups what masquers meet ! >vn:. i. ^ vn -^ ,^ ""S^-^w What lu.miK and juli.y pkal makks ihi', Fkanciscan STEEl'LE KliKL? Banner and pageant, pi[)c and chum, And merry morrice-danccrs (H)nic. 2IO The Lady of the Lake, I guess, by all this quaint array, The burghers hold their sports to-day, James will be there ; he loves such show, Where the good yeoman bends his bow, And the tough wrestler foils his foe. As w^ell as where, in proud career. The high-born tilter shivers spear. I'll follow^ to the Castle-park, And play my prize ; — King James shall mark. If age has tamed these sinews stark, Whose force so oft, in happier days. His boyish wonder loved to praise." XXL The Castle gates were open flung. The quivering drawbridge rock'd and rung. And echo'd loud the flinty street Beneath the coursers' clattering feet. As slowly down the steep descent Fair Scotland's King and nobles went. While all along the crowded way Was 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, The Lady of the Lake. 211 '4 > f J< Faiu Si »)I lands Kinc; anu noiu.ks nvknt. 212 The Lady of the Lake, Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, And smiles and nods upon the crowd, Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, ** Long live the Commons' King, King James ! ' Behind the King throng'd peer and knight. And noble dame and damsel bright. Whose fiery steeds ill brook'd the stay Of the steep street and crowded way. — But in the train you might discern Dark lowering brow and visage stern ; There nobles mourn'd their pride restrain'd And the mean burgher's joys disdain'd ; And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, Were each from home a banish'd man. There thought upon their own gray tower, Their waving woods, their feudal power. And deem'd themselves a shameful part Of pageant w^hich they cursed in heart. XXII. Now, in the Castle-park drew out Their checker'd 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 Robin Hood and all his band, — Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl, Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, Maid Marion, fair as ivory bone, Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John ; The Lady of the Lake, ^13 Their bugles challenge all that will, In archery to prove their skill. The Douglas bent a bow of might, — His first shaft centered in the white, 1. 1) Ror.iN Hood and all ills UANU. And when in turn he shot again, His second split the first m twain, '^roni the King's hand must Doug- las take A silver dart, tiie archer's stake ; r'ondly he walch'd with watery eye, Sonu- answering glance of sympathy, No kind emotion m:ide reply ! 214 The Lady of the Lake. Indifferent as to archer wight, 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 call'd in vain ; for Douglas came. — For life is Hugh of Larbert lame ; Scarce better John of Alloa's fare. Whom senseless home his comrades bear. Prize of the wrestling match, the King To Douglas gave a golden ring. While coldly glanced his e3^e of blue, As frozen drop of wintry dew. Douglas would speak, but in his breast His struggling soul his words suppress'd ; Indignant then he turn'd him where Their arms the brawny yeomen bare, To hurl the massive bar in air. When each his utmost strength had shown. The Douglas rent an earth- fast stone 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. The gray-hair'd sires, who know the past. To strangers point the Douglas-cast, And moralize on the decay Of Scottish strength in modern day. The Lady of the Lake, 2 1 XXIV. The vale with loud applauses rang", The Ladies* Rock sent back the clang. THK DoP(;i.AS KI-NT AN KAKTII- KAST SIONK !• UDM US DKHP m:i). 2i6 The Lady of the Lake. The Lady of the Lake. 217 The King, with look unmov'd, bestow'd A purse well fiU'd 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 mark'd, and shook the head. To see his hair with silver spread, The Ladiks' Kock'. And wink'd aside, and told each son, Of feats upon the English done, Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand Was exiled from his native land. The women prais'd his stately form. Though wreck'd by many a winter's storm ; The youth with awe and wonder saw His strength surpassing Nature's law. 2i8 The Lady of the Lake, Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, Till murmur 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 call'd the banish'd man to mind ; No, not from those, who at the chase, Once held his side the honor'd place. Begirt his board, and in the field. Found safety underneath his shield ; For he, whom royal eyes disown. When was his form to courtiers known ! 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 Bordeaux wine. Might serve the archery to dine. But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side Nor bribe nor threat, could ere divide The fleetest hound in all the North, — Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. She left the royal hounds mid-way, And dashing on the antler'd prey. Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank. And deep the flowing life-blood drank. The King's stout huntsman saw the sport, Bv strano^e intruder broken short, The Lady of the Lake. 2 1 9 Came up, and, with his leash unbound, In anger struck the noble hound. — The Douglas had endured, that morn, The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn. And last and worst to spirit proud. Had borne the pity of the crowd ; But Lufra had been fondly bred, To 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. His stifled wrath is brimming high, In darken 'd brow and flashing eye ; As waves before the bark divide. The crowd gave way before his stride ; Needs but a buffet and no more, The groom lies senseless in his gore. Such blow no other hand could deal. Though gauntleted in glove of steel. XXVI. Then clamor'd loud the royal train, And brandish 'd swords and staves amain. But stern the Baron's warning — " Bark ! liack, on your lives, ye menial pack I Beware the Douglas. — Yes! behold, King James ! The Douglas, doom'd of old, And vainly sought for near and far. A victim to atone the war, 220 The Lady of the Lake. A willing victim, now attends, Nor craves thy grace but for his friends. "- " Thus is my clemency repaid ? Presumptuous Lord ! " the ^Monarch said; " Of thy mis-proud ambitious clan, Thou, James of Both well, wert the man. In anger struck the noble hound. 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 I The Captain of our Guard ! Give the offender fittino: ward. — llie Lady of the Lake, 221 Yks! iU'Iioii), Kinc. jxMis! nil' D.hcm.as, poom i> of oi h ! 222 The Lady of the Lake. Break off the sports I" — for tumult rose. And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, — "Break off the sports I " — he said, and frown'd, *' And bid our horsemen clear the ground." XXVII. Then uproar wild and misarray Marr'd the fair form of festal day. The horsemen prick'd among the crowd, Repeird by threats and insult loud ; To earth are borne the old and weak, The timorous fly. the women shriek ; With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, The hardier urge tumultuous war. At once round Douglas darkly sweep 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 I 't was my blade That knighthood on thy shoulder laid ; For that good deed, permit me then A word with these misguided men. XXVIII. " Hear, gentle friends I ere yet for me. Ye break the bands of fealtv. 71ie Lady of the Lake. 223 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, That, for mean vengeance on a foe, Those cords of love I should unbind, Which knit my country and my kind ? Oh no ! Believe in yonder tower It will not soothe my captive hour. To know those spears our foes should dread, For me in kindred gore are red ; To know, in fruitless brawl begun. For me, that mother wails her son ; For me, that widow's mate expires ; For me, that orphans weep their sires ; That patriots mourn insulted laws, And curse the Douglas for the cause. O let your patience ward such ill, And keep your right to love me still ! " XXIX. The crowd's wild fury sunk again In tears, as tcmju'sts melt in rain. With lifU'd hands aiul cyrs. ilu-y pray'd For blessings on his generous head. Who for his country felt alone. And pri/.cd her blood bcvoiid his own. 2 24 The Lady of the Lake. Old men, upon the verge of life, Bless'd 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. With trailing arms and drooping head, The Douglas up the hill he led. And at the castle's battled verge, With sighs resign'd his honor'd charge. XXX. The offended [Monarch rode apart, With bitter thought and swelling heart, And would not now vouchsafe again Through Stirling streets to lead his train. " O Lennox, who would wish to rule This changeling crowd, this common fool ? Hear'st thou," he said, " the loud acclaim With which they shout the Douglas name ? With like acclaim, the vulgar throat Strain'd for King James their morning note ; With like acclaim they hail'd the day W^hen first I broke the Douglas' sway ; And like acclaim would Douglas greet, If he could hurl me from my seat. Who o'er the herd would wish to reign. Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain I 2'he Lady of the Lake. Vain as the leaf upon the stream, And fickle as a chani^eful dream ; Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood. Thou many-headed monster thing, O who would wish to be thy king ! XXXI. " But soft ! what messenger of speed Spurs hitherward his panting steed ? O WHO won. I) WISH k I guess his cognizance afar What from our cousin. John of Mar ? " ** lie prays, my licgc. your sports keep bound Within the safe and <'u;iriU*(l orouiul : 226 The Lady of the Lake. For some foul purpose yet unknown, — Most sure for evil to the throne, — The outlaw'd Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, Has summon'd his rebellious crew ; 'T is said, in James of Bothwell's aid These loose banditti stand array'd. The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune, To break their muster march'd, and soon What messenger of speed. 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 : The Lady of the Lake. 227 I lost it in this bustling day. Retrace with speed thy former way ; Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, The best of mine shall be thy meed. Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, We do forbid the intended war : Roderick, this morn, in single fight, Was made our prisoner by a knight ; And Douglas hath himself and cause Submitted to our kingdom's laws. The tidings of their leaders lost WMll soon dissolve the mountain host, Nor would we that the vulgar feel, For their Chief's crimes avenging steel. Bear Mar our message, Braco : fly ! " He turn'd his steed, — " My liege, I hie, — Yet, ere I cross this lily lawn, I fear the broadswords will be drawn." The turf the flying courser spurn'd, And to his towers the King return 'd. XXXIII. Ill with King James's mood that day, Suited gay feast and mitistrel lay : Soon were dismiss'd the courtly throng. And soon cut short the festal song. Nor less upon the saddcn'd town The evenmg sunk in sorrow down. '\\\v btirghers spoke of ci\il jar. Of luinor'd feuds and nionniain war. 2 28 The Lady of the Lake. Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, All up in arms : — the Douglas, too, They mourn'd him pent within the hold, *' Where stout Earl William was of old." And there his word the speaker staid, And finger on his lip he laid, Or pointed to his dagger blade. Bu-t jaded horsemen, from the west. At evening to the Castle press'd ; And busy talkers said they bore Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ; At noon the deadly fray begun. And lasted till the set of sun. Thus giddy rumor shook the town. Till closed the Night her pennons brown. CANTO SIXTH. The Guard-Room. I. 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. What various scenes, and, O ! what scenes of woe. Are witness'd by that red and struggling beam ! The fever'd patient, from his pallet low. Through crowded hospital beholds its stream ; The ruin'd maiden trembles at its gleam, The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail. 'Hie love-lorn wretch starts from tormenlin*^ dream ; 230 The Lady of the Lake. The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail. II. At dawn the towers of Stirling rang With soldier-step and weapon-clang, While drums, with rolling note, foretell Relief to weary sentinel. Through narrow loop and casement barr'd, The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, And, struggling with the smoky air, Deaden'd the torches' yellow glare. In comfortless alliance shone The lights through arch of blacken'd stone, And show'd wild shapes in garb of war, Faces deformed with beard and scar, All haggard from the midnight watch, And fever'd with the stern debauch ; For the oak table's massive board, Flooded with wine, with fragments stored. And beakers drain'd, and cups o'erthrown, Show'd in what sport the night had flown. Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; Some labor'd still their thirst to quench ; Some, chill'd with watching, spread their hands O'er the huge chimney's dying brands. While round them, or beside them flung. At every step their harness rung. The Lady of the Lake, 231 111. These drew not for their lields the sword, Like tenants of a feudal lord, Nor own'd the patriarchal claim. Of Chieftain in their leader's name; Adventurers they, from far who roved, To live by battle which they loved. There the Italian's clouded face, The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace ; The mountain-loving Svvitzer there More freely breathed in mountain-air ; The Fleming there despised the soil, That paid so ill the laborer's toil ; Their rolls show'd French and German name ; And merry England's exiles came, To share, with ill-conceal'd disdain, Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. All brave in arms, well train'd to wield The heavy halberd, brand and shield ; In camps licentious, wild, and bold ; In pillage fierce and uncontroH'd ; And now, by holy tide and feast, From rules of discipline released. IV. They held debate of bloodx' frav. l*'()Ui;Iit 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achi'av. I''ici-(\! was their speech, and. 'mid their words riuir hands oft grappled to their swords; 232 The Lady of the Lake. Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear Of wounded comrades groaning near, Whose mangled limbs, and bodies gored, Bore token of the mountain sword, Though neighboring to the Court of Guard, Their prayers and feverish wails were heard ; Sad burden to the rufihan joke. And savage oath by fury spoke ! — At length up started John of Brent, A yeoman from the banks of Trent ; A stranger to respect or fear, In peace a chaser of the deer, In host a hardy mutineer, But still the boldest of the crew. When deed of danger was to do. He grieved, that day, their games cut short. And marr'd the dicer's brawling sport, And shouted loud, *' Renew the bowl ! And, while a merry catch I trowl, Let each the buxom chorus bear. Like brethren of the brand and spear/* V. soldier's song. Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl : That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack. And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ; The Lady of the Lake. SoIDIKk's S(>N(] 234 The Lady of the Lake. Yet whoop, Barnaby ! off with thy liquor. Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar ! Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip, Says, that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly. And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye ; Yet whoop. Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker, Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the Our vicar thus preaches — and w^hy should he not ? For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot ; And 't is right of his office poor laymen to lurch. Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church. Yet whoop, bully-boys ! off with your liquor, Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the vicar ! VI. The warder's challenge, heard without. Staid 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." The Lady of the Lake. 235 Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarr'd, Was entering now the Court of Guard, A harper with him, and, in plaid All muffled close, a mountain maid. Who backward shrank to 'scape the view Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. " What news ? " they roar'd : " I only know, From noon till eve we fought with foe, As wild and as untameable As the rude mountains where they dwell : On both sides store of blood is lost. Nor much success can either boast." — ** But whence thy captives, friend } such spoil As theirs must needs reward thy toil. Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp ; Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp ! Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, The leader of a juggler band." — VII. " No, comrade ; — no such fortune mine. After the hght these sought our line. That aged harper and the girl, And, having audience of the r'arl, Mar bade I should purvey them steed. And bring them hitherward with s[)eed. Forbear your mirth and rude alarm. For none shall do them shame or harm." '• Hear ye his boast ? " cried (ohn of i>rc"ni. I'A'er to strife and jaiigliiig bent ; 236 The Lady of the Lake. '' Shall he strike doe beside our lodge, And yet the jealous niggard grudge To pay the forester his fee ? I'll have my share howe'er it be, Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee." Bertram his forward step withstood ; And, burning in his vengeful mood, Old Allan, though unfit for strife, Laid hand upon his dagger-knife ; But Ellen boldly stepp'd between. And dropp'd at once the tartan screen : So from his morning cloud appears The sun of May, through summer tears. The savage soldiery, amazed, As on descended angel gazed ; Even hardy Brent, abash'd and tamed, Stood half admiring, half ashamed. vni. Boldly she spoke, — " Soldiers, attend ! My father was the soldier's friend ; Cheer'd him in camps, in marches led, And with him in the battle bled. Not from the valiant, or the strong, Should exile's daughter suffer wrong." — Answer'd De Brent, most forward still In every feat of good or ill, — " I shame me of the part I play'd : And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ! An outlaw I by forest laws, And merrv Xeedwood knows the cause. The Lady of the Lake. 237 Poor Rose, — if Rose 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 I — Beware loose speech, or jesting rough : Ye all know John de Brent. Enough." There lies my halberd on the floor. IX. Their Captain came, a gallant young,- (Of Tullibardine's house he sprung). Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight ; Gay was his mien, his humor light. And, though by (M)urtcsy controll'd. l-'orward his spcci^h, his bearing bold. The high-born maiden ill could brook The scanning of his curious look 238 The Lady of the Lake, 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 ? Does thy high quest a knight require, Or may the venture suit a squire ? " — Her dark eye flash'd ; — she paused and sigh'd, — '* O 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." X. The signet-ring young Lewis took, With deep respect and alter'd look ; And said, — ''This ring our duties own : And pardon, if to w^orth unknown, In semblance mean obscurely veil'd, Lady, in aught my folly fail'd. Soon as the day flings wide his gates, The King shall know what suitor waits. The Lady of the Lake. 239 Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower Repose you till his waking hour ; Female attendants shall obey Your hest, for service or array. Permit I marshal you the way." But, ere she follow'd, with the grace And open bounty of her race. She bade her slender purse be shared Among the soldiers of the guard. The rest with thanks their guerdon took ; But Brent, with shy and awkward look. On the reluctant maiden's hold Forced bluntly back the proffer'd gold ; — " Forgive a haughty English heart. And O forget its ruder part ! The vacant purse shall be my share, Which in my barret-cap Til 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 L>llen forth with I.ewis went, Allan made suit to John of Urcnt : " My lady safe, O let your grace (live me to see my master's face ! liis minstrel I, -to share his doom liound fi'oin the (M'adle to the tomb. Tenth in (Icscent, since first \\\\ sires Waked for his noble house tluir Krcs. 240 The Lady of the Lake. Nor one of all the race was known But prized its weal above their own. With the Chief's birth begins our care ; Our harp must soothe the infant heir, Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace His earliest feat of field or chase ; In peace, in war, our rank we keep, We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep, Nor leave him till we pour our verse, — A doleful tribute I — 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, ** We Southern men, of long descent ; Nor wot we how a name — a word — Makes clansmen vassals to a lord : Yet kind my noble landlord's part, — God bless the house of Beaudesert ! And, but I loved to drive the deer, More than to guide the laboring steer, I had not dwelt an outcast here. Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ; Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see." XII. Then from a rusted iron hook, A bunch of ponderous keys he took, Lighted a torch, and Allan led Through grated arch and passage dread. Portals they pass'd, where, deep within, Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters' din ; 21ie Lady of the Lake. 241 Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored, Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword. And many a hideous engine grim. For wrenching joint, and crushing limb. By artist formed, who deem'd it shame And sin to give their work a name. They halted at a low-brow'd porch. And Brent to Allan gave the torch, While bolt and chain he backward roll'd, And made the bar unhasp its hold. They enter'd : 'twas a prison room Of stern security and gloom. Yet not a dungeon ; for the day Through lofty gratings found way. Its A lUNCH OK I'ONDKKOLS KEYS HE TDUK. And rude and antique garniture Deck'd the sad walls and oaken floor ; Such as the rugged days of old Deem'd fit for captive noble's hold. " Here," said De Brent, "thou maycst remain Till the Leech visit him again. Strict is his charge the warders tell, To tend the noble prisoner well." 242 The Liiih of the Lake. Retiring then, the bolt he drew, And the lock's murmurs growl'd anew. Roused at the sound, from lowly bed A captive feebly raised his head : Thf.v enter'd : 't was a prison room. The wondering Minstrel look'd. and knew- Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu I For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, They, erring, deem'd the Chief he sought. 21ie Lady of the Lake, 243 XIII. As the tali 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 Dhii ! And oft his fever'd limbs he threw In toss abrupt, as when her sides Lie rocking in the advancing tides, That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, Yet cannot heave her from her seat ; — O ! how unlike her course at sea ! Or his free step on hill and lea ! — Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, " What of thy lady ? — of my clan ? — My mother ? — Douglas ? — tell me all ! Have they been ruin'd in my fall ? Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here ! Yet speak, — speak boldly, — do not fear." — (For Allan, who his mood well knew, Was choked with grief and terror too.) " Who fought — who lied ?— (^Id man. he brief ; — Some might — for they had lost their Chief. Who basely live } — who bravely died }'^ — • •' (), calm tiiee, Chief!" — the Minstrel cried. •' ICllen is safe ; " — *' For that, thank Heaven I ' — ** And hopes are for the Douglas gist-n ;■- The Lady Margaret too is well. And, for thy clan, — on tlcld or tell, 2 44 ^/^^' Lady of the Lake. Has nevet harp of minstrel told, Of combat fought so true and bold, Thy stately Pine is yet unbent, Though many a goodly bough is rent." XIV. The Chieftain rear'd his form on high, And fever's fire was in his eye ; But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks Checker'd his swarthy brow and cheeks. — " Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play, With measure bold, on festal day, In yon lone isle, . . . again where ne'er Shall harper play, or warrior hear I . . . That stirring air that peals on high, O'er Dermid's race our victory. — Strike it I — and then, (for well thou canst,) Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced. Fling me the picture of the fight, When met my clan the Saxon might. I'll listen till my fancy hears The clang of swords, the crash of spears ! These grates, these walls, shall vanish then. For the fair field of lighting men, And my free spirit burst away. As if it soar'd from battle fray." The trembling Bard with awe obey'd, — Slow on the harp his hand he laid ; But soon remembrance of the sight He witness'd from the mountain's height. With what old Bertram told at ni^ht, 2'he Lady of the Lake. 245 Awaken 'd the full power of song, And bore him in career along ; — As shallop launch 'd 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 BEAT/ AN DUINE. " The Minstrel came once more to view The eastern ridge of Benvenue, For ere he parted he would say Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — Where shall he find in foreign land. So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! — There is no breeze upon the fern No rip[)le on ihe lake, Ui)()n her eyry nods tiic erne. 246 The Lady of the Lake, The deer has sought the brake ; The small birds will not sing aloud The springing trout lies still, So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud, That swathes, as with a purple shroud Benledi's distant hill. Is it the thunder's solemn sound That mutters deep and dread, Or echoes from the groaning ground The warrior's measured tread ? Is it the lightning's quivering glance That on the thicket streams, Or do they flash on spear and lance The sun's retiring beams ? — I see the dagger-crest of Mar, I see the Moray's silver star. Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon 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. ** Their light-arm'd archers far and near Survey 'd the tangled ground, Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, A twilight forest frown'd, Their barbed horsemen, in the rear. The stern battalia crown'd. The Lady of the Lake. 247 No cymbal clash'd, no clarion rang. Still were the pipe and drum ; 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 seem'd to quake. That shadow'd 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 stirr'd the roe ; The host moves, like a deep sea wave, Where rise no rocks its pride to brave. High-swelling, dark, and slow. The lake is pass'd, and now they gain A narrow and a broken plain, Before the Trosach's rugged jaws : And here the horse and spearmen pause, While, to explore the dangerous glen. Dive through the pass the archcr-mcn. XVII. " At once there rose so wild a yell Within that dark and narrow del!. As all the fiends, from heaven that fell, Had pcal'd the banner-cry of hell ! Forth from the j")ass in lumiilt driven. Like chaff before the wind of lu\i\in. The archery apjHar; 248 llie Lady of the Lake, For life ! for life I 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 ; Before that tide of flight and chase. How shall it keep its rooted place, The spearmen's twilight wood ? — - ' Down, down,' crjed Mar, ' your lances down I Bear back both friend and foe I ' Like reeds before the tempest's frown, That serried grove of lances brown At once lay levell'd low ; And closely shouldering side to side. The bristhng ranks the onset bide. — * We'll quell the savage mountaineer, As their Tinchel cows the game ! They come as fleet as forest deer, We'll drive them back as tame. xvni. *' Bearing before them, in their course, The relics of the archer force. Like wave with crest of sparkling foam. Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. Above the tide each broadsword bright Was brandishing like beam of light, Each targe was dark below ; The Lady of the Lake, 249 And with the ocean's mighty swing, When heaving to the tempest's wing. They hurl'd them on the foe. I heard the lance's shivering crash, As when the whirlwind rends the ash, I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, As if an hundred anvils rang ! But Moray wheel'd his rearward rank Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank, — * My banner-man, advance ! I see,' he cried, * their column shake. Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake. Upon them with the lance ! ' — The horsemen 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 Roderick then ! One blast upon his bugle horn Were worth a thousand men. And refluent through the pass of fear The battle's tide was pour'd ; Vanish'd the Saxon's struggling spear, Vanish'd the mountain sword. As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep, Receives her roaring linn, As the dark caverns of the deep Suck the wild whirlpool in. So did the deep and darksome pass Devour tlu! battle's min«»le(l mass : 250 The Lady of the Lake. None linger now upon the plain, Save those who ne'er shall tight 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 Trosach's dread defile Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. — Gray Benvenue I soon repass'd. Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. The sun is set ; — the clouds are met The lowering scowl of heaven An inky view of vivid blue To the deep lake is given ; Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen Swept o'er the lake, then sunk agen. I heeded not the eddying surge, Mine eye but saw the Trosach's gorge. Mine ear but heard the sullen sound, Which like an earthquake shook the ground, And spoke the stern and desperate strife That parts not but with parting life, Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll The dirge of many a passing soul, Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen The martial flood disgorged agen. But not in mingled tide ; The Lady of the Lake. The plaided warriors of the North High on the mountain thunder forth And overhang its side ; While by the lake below appears The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears. At weary bay each shatter'd band, Eyeing their foeman, sternly stand ; Their banners stream like tatter'd sail, That flings its fragments to the gale. And broken arms and disarray Mark'd the fell havoc of the day. XX. " Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, The Saxon 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 ; — My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, And loose a shallop from the shore. Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then. Lords of his mate and brood, and tlcn.* Forth from the ranks a s[)carman sprung. On earth his casciue and corselet rung, lie plunged him in the wave; - All saw the (\^'v(\ -the purpose knew. 252 The Lady of the Lake, And to their clamors Benvenue A mingled echo gave ; The Saxon shout, their mate to cheer, The helpless females scream for fear, And yells for rage the mountaineer. 'T was then, as by the outcry riven, Pour'd down at once the lowering heaven ; A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast, Her billows rear'd their snowy crest. Well for the swimmer swell'd they high, To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; For round him shower'd, 'mid rain and hail The vengeful arrows of the Gael. — In vain. — He nears the isle — and lo ! His hand is on a shallop's bow. — Just then a flash of lightning came, It tinged the waves and strand with flame :- I mark'd Duncraggan's widow'd dame, Behind an oak I saw her stand, A naked dirk gleam'd in her hand ; — It darken'd, — but amid the moan Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — Another flash ! — the spearman floats A weltering corse beside the boats. And the stern Matron o'er him stood. Her hand and dagger streaming blood. XXI. " ' Revenge ! revenge ! ' the Saxons cried, The Gaels' exulting shout replied. Despite the elemental rage. The Lady of the Lake, 253 Again they hurried to engage ; But ere they closed in desperate fight, Bloody with spurring came a knight, Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag, Waved, twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. Clarion and trumpet by his side Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, A NAk-KI) niKK GLRAm'i) IN HF.R HAND. While, in the Monarch's nainc, alar A herald's voice forbade the war. For l^othwell's lord, and Roderick bo Were both, he said, in captive hold." 2 54 ^^^^ Lady of the Lake, — But here the lay made sudden stand, The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand ! — Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy How Roderick brook'd his minstrelsy : At tirst, the Chieftain, to the chime, With lifted hand kept feeble time : That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong Varied his look as changed the sound ; At length, no more his deafen'd ear The minstrel melody can hear ; His face grows sharp, — his hands are clench'd, As if some pang his heart-strings wrench'd ; Set are his teeth, his fading eye Is sternly fixed on vacancy ; Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu I — Old Allan-Bane look'd on aghast, While grim and still his spirit pass'd ; But when he saw that life was fled, He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead. xxn. LAMENT. " And art thou cold and lowly laid, Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade I For thee shall none a requiem say? — For thee, — who loved the minstrel's lay, For thee of Bothwell's house the stay, The Lady of the Lake. The shelter of her exiled line, E'en in this prison-house of thine, I'll wail for Alpine's honor'd Pine. " What groans shall yonder valleys fill ! What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill ! What tears of burning rage shall thrill, All ^-l^ Wi: LOOK I) >.N A (.11 AST. When mourns thy tribe thy battK's done. Thy fall before the race was won. 256 The Lady of the Lake, Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! There breathes not clansman of thy line, But would have given his life for thine.— O woe for Alpine's honor'd Pine ! *' Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — The captive thrush may brook the cage, The prison'd eagle dies for rage. Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! And, when its notes awake again, Even she, so long beloved in vain, Shall with my harp her voice combine, And mix her woe and tears with mine. To wail Clan Alpine's honor'd Pine.'' XXIII. Ellen, the while, with bursting heart, Remain'd in lordly bower apart, Where play'd, with many-color'd gleams, Through storied pane the rising beams. In vain on gilded roof they fall. And lighten'd up a tapestried wall, And for her use a menial train A rich collation spread in vain. The banquet proud, the chamber gray, Scarce drew one curious glance astray ; Or, if she look'd, 't was but to say, With better omen dawn'd the day In that lone isle, where waved on high The dun-deer's hide for canopy ; The Lady of the Lake. 257 Till'; WINDDW SKKKS Willi CAUrilUS IKKAI). 258 The Lady of the Lake, Where oft her noble father shared The simple meal her care prepared, While Lufra, crouching by her side, Her station claim'd with jealous pride, And Douglas, bent on woodland game, Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Gr^me, 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 I '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. I wish I were as I have been. Hunting the hart in forest green, With bended bow and bloodhound free, For that's the life is meet for me. I hate to learn the ebb of time. From von dull steeple's drowsv chime. llie Lady of the Lake, 259 Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, Inch after inch, along the wall. The lark was wont my matins ring. The sable rook my vespers sing ; These towers, although a king's they be, Have not a hall of joy for me. No more at dawming morn I rise, And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, Drive the fleet deer the forest through, And homeward wend the 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. That heart-sick lay was hardly said, The list'ner had not turn'd her head. It trickled still, the starting tear. When light a footstep struck her ear, And Snowdoun's graceful knight was near. She turn'd 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 " " O say not so ! To me no gratitude you owe. Not mine, alas ! the boon to give. And bid tin' noble father live ; I can but be thy guide, sweet maid. With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 2 6o 21u Lady of the Lake. 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 whisper'd hope and cheer ; Her faltering steps half led, half stay'd, Through gallery fair and high arcade. Till, at his touch, its wings of pride A portal arch unfolded wide. XXVI. Within 't was brilliant all and light, A thronging scene of figures bright ; It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight, As when the setting sun has given Ten thousand hues to summer even, And from their tissue, fancy frames Aerial knights and fairy dames. Still by Fitz-James her footing stay'd ; A few faint steps she forward made. Then slow her drooping head she raised. And fearful round the presence gazed ; For him she sought, who own'd this state. The dreaded prince whose will was fate ! — She gazed on many a princely port, Might well have ruled a royal court ; On many a splendid garb she gazed,— Then turn'd bewilder'd and amazed, The Lady of the Lake, 261 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 ; Midsl 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 ! 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 show'd the ring — she clasp'd her hands. O ! not a moment could he brook, The generous prince, that suppliant look ! Gently he raised her, — and, the while, Check'd with a glance the circle's smile ; (graceful, but grave, her brow he kiss'd, And bade her terrors be dismiss'd : "Yes, Fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James The fealty of Scotland claims. To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring ; He will redeem his signet-ring. Ask naught for Douglas ; — ycster oven, llis prince and he have much forgiven : Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 1, from his rebel kinsmen wrong. 262 The Lady of the Lake, 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. I stanch'd thy father's death-feud stern, With stout De Vaux and Grey Glencairn ; And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own The friend and bulwark of our Throne.— But, lovely infidel, how now.'^ What clouds thy misbelieving brow } Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; Thou must confirm this doubting maid." XXVI I L 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 On Nature's rapturis long should pry ; He stepp'd 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 The Lady of the Lake, 263 Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, And Normans call me James P^itz- James. Thus watch 1 o'er insulted laws, Thus learn to right the injured cause." — Then, in a tone apart and low, — ** Ah, little trait'ress ! none must know What idle dream, what lighter thought, What vanity full dearly bought, Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew My spell-bound steps to Benvenue, In dangerous hour, and almost gave Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive ! " — Aloud he spoke — '* Thou still dost hold That little talisman of gold, Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring — What seeks fair Ellen of the king } " XXIX. Full well the conscious maiden guess'd He probed the weakness of her breast; But, with that consciousness, there came A lightening of her fears for GraMiic. And more she deem'd the monarch's ire Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; And, to her generous feeling true. She craved the grace of Roderick Dim. " PV)rbear thy suit: the King of kings Alone can stay life's parting wings. I know his heart, 1 know his haiui. Have shared his cheer and proxcd his hiantl : — 264 The Lady of the Lake, My fairest earldom would I give To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live ! — Hast thou no other boon to crave ? No other captive friend to save ? " Blushing, she turn'd her from the King, And to the Douglas gave the ring, As if she wish'd her sire to speak The suit that stain'd her glowing cheek. — " Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, And stubborn justice holds her course. — Malcom come forth ! " — And, at the word, Down kneel'd the Graeme to Scotland's Lord. *' For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, From thee may Vengeance claim her dues. Who, nurtured underneath our smile, Hast paid our care by treacherous wile. And sought, amid thy faithful clan, A refuge for an outlaw'd man, Dishonoring thus thy royal name. — • Fetters and warder for the Grseme ! " His chain of gold the King unstrung, The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, Then gently drew the glittering band, And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. Harp of the North, farewell ! The hills grow dark, On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark. The Lady oj the Lake, 265 .i Tiiii i.iNk^ >i i.K M.\iAi)i.M*s NKCK HI- y\\ 2 66 21ie Lady of the Lake. The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wend- ing. Resume 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, And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of hous- ing bee. Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp I Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, And Httle reck I of the censure sharp May idly cavil at an idle lay. ]\Iuch have I owed thy strains on life's long way. Through secret woes the world has never known, \Yhen on the weary night dawn'd wearier day. And bitterer was the grief devour'd alone. That I o'erlive such woes. Enchantress ! is thine own. Hark I as my lingering footsteps slow retire, 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. Receding now, the dying numbers ring Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell. And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — And now, 't is silent all I — Enchantress, fare thee well ! xs*? 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