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 COPYRrCHT DEPOSrr 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
Copyright, 1910 
 The Eobbs-Mekhill Company 
 
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 ©CI, A ^75(188 
 
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 THB LADY OF THB LAKE. 
 
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r---- •-#i«*tj.a'i(ilef|[,1rrfS;ijl,;lii| 
 
 THE LADY OF THB LAKR 
 
 CANTO FIRST 
 
 THK CHASE 
 
 Harp of the North ! that mouldering long liast hung 
 
 On the witcli-clni that sliadcs Saint Fillan's spring, 
 And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, 
 
 Till envious ivy did around thee cling. 
 Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — 
 
 O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep? 
 Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring. 
 
 Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, 
 Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep? 
 
 Not thus, in ancient days of Calcdon, 
 
 Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd, 
 
 When lay of hopeless love, or glory won. 
 
 Aroused the fearful or subdued the proud. 
 
 At each according pause was heard aloud 
 
 Thine ardent symphony sublime and high. 
 Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed ; 
 
 For still the burden of thy minstrelsy 
 Was Knighthood's dauntless deed. 
 
 and Beauty's 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 ! though scarce my skill command 
 
 Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay: 
 Though harsh' and faint, and soon to die away, 
 
 And all unworthy of thy nobler strain. 
 Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, 
 
 The wizard note has not been touched in vain. 
 Tl'.en silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again ! 
 
THE LADY OF THR LAKE 
 
 ^s: 
 
 
 .-41 c 
 
 Tlie stag at eve had drunk bis fill, 
 Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, 
 And deep his midnight lair had made 
 In lone Glenartncy's hazel shade ; 
 But when the sun his beacon red 
 Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, 
 The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy 
 
 bay 
 Resounded up the rocky way, 
 And faint, from farther distance borne. 
 Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 
 
 n. 
 
 As Chief, who hears his warder call, 
 'To arms ! the f oemen storm the wall,' 
 The antlered monarch of the waste 
 Sprung from his heathery couch in 
 
 haste. 
 But ere his fleet career he took, 
 The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; 
 Like crested leader proud and high 
 Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky ; 
 A moment gazed adown the dale, 
 A moment snuffed the tainted gale, 
 A moment listened to the cry, 
 That thickened as the chase drew nigh; 
 Then, us the headmost foes appeared, 
 With one brave bound the copse he 
 
 cleared, 
 And, stretching foi-ward free and far, 
 Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 
 
 III. 
 Yelled on the view the opening pack ; 
 Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back ; 
 To many a mingled sound at once 
 The awakened mountain gave response. 
 A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong. 
 Clattered a hundred steeds along, 
 Their peal the merry horns rung out, 
 A hundred voices joined the shout; 
 With hark and whoop and wild halloo, 
 No rest Benvoirlich's eclioes knew. 
 Far from the tumult fled the roe. 
 
 Close in her covert cowered the doe, 
 The falcon, from her cairn on high, 
 Cast on the rout a wondering eye. 
 Till far beyond her jjicrcing ken 
 The hurricane had swept the glen. 
 Faint, and more faint, its failing din 
 Returned from cavern, clifi^, and linn. 
 And silence settled, wide and still, 
 On the lone wood and mighty hill. 
 
 rv. 
 
 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-sido 
 Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 
 
 The noble stag was pausing now 
 Upon the mountain's southern brow. 
 Where broad extended, far beneath. 
 The varieil realms of fair Menteith. 
 With anxious eye he wandered o'er 
 ]\Iountain and meadow, moss and moor. 
 And pondered refuge from his toil. 
 By far Lochard or Abcrfoyle. 
 But nearer was the copsewood gray 
 That waved and wept on Loch Achray, 
 And mingled with the pine-trees blue 
 On the bold cliffs of Benvcnue. 
 Fresh vigor with the hope returned. 
 With flying foot the heath he spumed. 
 Held westward with unwearied race. 
 And left behind the panting chase. 
 
 VI. 
 
 'T were long to tell what steeds gave o'er, 
 As swept tlic hunt throuti;h Cambusmore; 
 
THB CHASR 
 
 Wliat reins were tightened in despair, 
 When rose Benledi's ridge in air: 
 Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath, 
 Who shunned to stem the flooded 
 
 Teith,— 
 For twice that day, from shore to shore, 
 The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. 
 Few were the stragglers, following far. 
 That reached the lake of A^cnnachar ; 
 And when the Brigg of Turk was won. 
 The headmost horseman rode alone. 
 
 Alone, but with unbated zeal. 
 
 That horseman plied the scourge and 
 
 steel ; 
 For jaded now, and spent with toil. 
 Embossed with foam, and dark with soil, 
 While every gasp with sobs he drew. 
 The laboring stag strained full in view. 
 Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, 
 Unmatched for courage, breath, and 
 
 speed, 
 Fast on his flying traces came. 
 And all but won that desperate game : 
 For, scarce a spear'.s length from his 
 
 haunch. 
 Vindictive toiled the bloodhounds stanch ; 
 Nor nearer might the dogs attain. 
 Nor farther might the quarry strain. 
 Thus up the margin of the lake. 
 Between the precipice and brake, 
 O'er stock and rock their race they take. 
 
 Mustered his breath, his whinyard 
 
 drew : — 
 But thundering as he came prepared, 
 With ready arm and weapon bared. 
 The wily quarry shunned the shock, 
 And turned him. from- the opposing rock; 
 Tlien, dashing down a darksome glen. 
 Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken. 
 In the deep. Trosachs' wildest nook 
 His solitary refuge took. 
 There, while close couched the thicket 
 
 shed 
 Cold dews and wild flowers on his head. 
 He heard the baffled dogs in vain 
 Rave through the hollow pass amain, 
 Chiding the rocks- that yelled again. 
 
 DC. 
 
 Close on the hounds the Hunter came. 
 To cheer them on the vanished game; 
 But, stumbling in tiie rugged dell. 
 The gallant hor.se exhausted fell. 
 The impatient rider strove in vain 
 To rouse him with the spur and rein, 
 For the good steed, his labors o'er, 
 Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more; 
 Then, touched with pity and remorse, 
 He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse. 
 'I little thought, when first thy rein 
 I slacked upon the banks of Seine, 
 That Highland eagle e'er should feed 
 On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! 
 Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, 
 That costs thy life, my gallant gray !' 
 
 if- ': 
 
 
 -h. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Hunter marked that mountain high. 
 The lone lake's western boundary, 
 And deemed the stag must turn to bay. 
 Where that huge rampart barred the 
 
 way: 
 Already glorying in the prize. 
 Measured his antlers with his eyes; 
 For the death-wound and death-halloo 
 
 X. 
 
 Then through the dell liis horn resounds. 
 From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 
 Back limped, with slow and crippled 
 
 pace. 
 The sulky leaders of the chase ; 
 Close to their master's side they pressed. 
 With drooping tail and humbled crest; 
 But still the dingle's hollow throat 
 
THE LADY OF THB LAKE. 
 
 i 
 
 ^ 
 
 V^;':,* 
 
 J- 
 
 
 •^ 
 
 Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. 
 Tile owlets started from their dream. 
 The eagles answered with their scream, 
 Round and around the sounds were cast, 
 Till echo seemed an answering blast ; 
 And on the Hunter liied his way, 
 To join some comrades of the day. 
 Yet often paused, so strange the road, 
 So wondrous were the scenes it showed. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The western waves of ebbing day 
 Rolled o'er the glen their level way; 
 Each ])urj)le peak, each flinty spire. 
 Was bathed in floods of living fire. 
 But not a setting beam could glow 
 Witliin tlie dark ra\ines ixlow, 
 Wiicn- twined Hie patli in shadow hid, 
 flu Round many a rocky pyramid, 
 SliooHng abruptly from' the dell 
 :„ Its tliunder-spliutered jjirinacle: 
 Round many an insulated mass, 
 The nafive bulwarks of tjie pass. 
 Huge as tlic tower which builders vain 
 Presumptuous {)ilcd on Shinar's plain. 
 Tlie rocky summits. s])lit and rent, 
 Formi'd turret. doiiK', or battlement. 
 Or seemetl fantastically set 
 With cupola or minaret. 
 Wild crests as pagod ever decked, 
 Or iiios(|ue of l'>astern architect. 
 Nor were these earth-born castles bare, 
 Nor lacked they many a banner fair; 
 For, from their shivered brows displayed. 
 Far o'er the unfathomable glade. 
 All twinkling with the dewdrop slieen, 
 The brier-rose fell in streamers green, 
 And creeping shrubs of thousand dyes 
 Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. 
 
 xn. 
 Boon nature scattered, free and wild. 
 Each plant or flower, the mountain's 
 
 child. 
 Here eglantine embalmed the air. 
 
 Hawthorn and hazel mingled there ; 
 The primrose pale and violet flower 
 Found in each clift a narrow bower; 
 Foxglove and nightshade, side by side, 
 Emblems of punishment and pride, 
 Grouped their dark hues with every stain 
 The weather-beaten crags retain. 
 WitJi boughs that quaked at every 
 
 breath, 
 Gray birch and aspen wept beneath; 
 Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 
 Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; 
 And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 
 His shattered trunk, and frequent flung. 
 Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high. 
 His boughs athwart the narrowed sky. 
 Highest of all, where wiiite peaks 
 
 glanced. 
 Where glistening streamers waved and 
 
 danced. 
 The wanderer's eye could barely view 
 The summer heaven's delicious blue; 
 So wondrous wild, the whole might .seem 
 The scenery of a fairy dream. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Onward, amid the copse 'gan i)eep 
 A narrow inlet, still and deep. 
 Affording .scarce such breadth of brim 
 As served the wild iluck's brood to swim. 
 Lost for a space, through thickets veer- 
 ing. 
 But broader when again appearing. 
 Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 
 Could on the dark-blue mirror trace; 
 And farther as the Hunter strayed, 
 Still broader sweep its channels made. 
 The shaggy mounds no longer stood, 
 Emerging from entangled wood. 
 But, wrtve-encirclcd, seemed 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. 
 
THB CHASE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And now, to issue from tlie glen, 
 
 No pathway meets the wandei-er's ken, 
 
 Unless he climb with footing nice 
 
 A far-projecting pi'ecipice. 
 
 The broom's tough roots his ladder made. 
 
 The hazel sajjlings lent their aid ; 
 
 And thus an airy point he won. 
 
 Where, gleaming with the setting sun. 
 
 One buniislied sheet of living gold. 
 
 Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled. 
 
 In all her length far winding lay, 
 
 With promontory, creek, and bay. 
 
 And islands that, empurpled bright, 
 
 Floated amid the livelier light. 
 
 And mountains that like giants stand 
 
 To sentinel enchanted land. 
 
 High on the south, huge Benvenue 
 
 Down to the lake in masses threw 
 
 Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly 
 
 hurled. 
 The fragments of an earlier world ; 
 A wildering forest feathered o'er 
 His ruined sides and summit hoar. 
 While on the north, through middle air, 
 Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. 
 
 From the steep promontory gazed 
 The stranger, raptured and amazed, 
 And, 'What a scene were here,' he cried, 
 'For princely pomp or churchman's 
 
 pride ! 
 On this bold brow, a lordly tower ; 
 In that soft vale, a lady's bower; 
 On yonder meadow far away. 
 The turrets of a cloister gray ; 
 How blithely might the bugle-horn 
 Chide on the lake the lingering morn ! 
 How sweet at eve the lover's lute 
 Chime when the groves were still and 
 
 mute ! 
 And when the midnight moon should lave 
 Her forehead in the silver wave, 
 
 How solemn on the ear would come 
 The hoi}' matins' distant hum. 
 While the deep peal's commanding tone 
 Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 
 A sainted hermit from his cell, 
 To drop a bead with every knell ! 
 And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, 
 Should each bewildered stranger call 
 To friendly feast and liglitcd hall. 
 
 'Blithe were it then to wander here ! 
 But now — beshrcw yon nimble deer — 
 Like that same hermit's, thin and spai'e, 
 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 hut 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 wonst that may betide. 
 Ere now this falchion has been tried.' 
 
 But scarce again his horn he wound. 
 
 When lo ! forth starting at the sound. 
 
 From underneath an aged oak 
 
 That slanted from the islet rock, 
 
 A damsel gi^iider of its way, 
 
 A little skiff shot to the bay, 
 
 That round the promontory steep 
 
 Led its deep line in graceful sweep, 
 
 Eddying, in almost viewless wave. 
 
 The weeping willow twig to lave. 
 
 And kiss, with whispering sound and 
 
 slow. 
 The beach of pebbles bright as snow. 
 The boat had touched this silver strand 
 
 ■^4fi^ Wt. 
 
THB LADY OF THB LAKE. 
 
 Just as tlie Hunter left his stand. 
 
 And stood concealed amid the brake, 
 
 To view this Lady of the Lake. 
 
 Tlie maiden paused, as if again 
 
 She thought to catch the distant strain. 
 
 With head upraised, and look intent. 
 
 And eye and ear attentive l)ent, 
 
 And locks flung back, and lips apart. 
 
 Like monument of Grecian art. 
 
 In listening mood, she seemed to stand. 
 
 The guardian Naiad of the strand. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 / vVnd ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 
 A Xymph, 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 glinipse.s of a breast of snow: 
 What though no rule of courtly grace 
 To measured mood had trained her 
 
 pace, — 
 A foot more light, a step more true. 
 Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the 
 
 dew ; 
 E'en the slight harebell raised its head, 
 Elastic from her airy tread : 
 What though upon her speech there hung 
 The accents of the mountain tongue, — 
 Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear. 
 The listener held his breath to hear ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid ; 
 Her satin snood, her silken plaid, 
 Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed. 
 And seldom was a snood amid 
 Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid. 
 Whose gloss_v black to shame might 
 bring: 
 
 The plumage of the raven's wing; 
 And seldom o'er a breast so fair 
 JMantled a plaid with modest care, 
 And never brooch the folds combined 
 Above a heart more good and kind. 
 Her kindness and her worth tc sp}^, 
 You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; 
 Not Katrine in her mirror blue 
 Gives back the shaggy banks more true, 
 Than every free-born glance confessed 
 The guileless movements of her breast ; 
 Wiiether joy danced in her dark eye. 
 Or woe or pity claimed a sigh. 
 Or filial love was glowing there. 
 Or meek devotion poured a praj'cr. 
 Or tale of injury called forth 
 The intlignant spirit of the North. 
 One only passion unrcveakd 
 With maiden pride the maid concealed, 
 Yet not less purely felt the flame; — 
 O, need I tell that passion's name? 
 
 XX. 
 
 Impatient of the silent hora. 
 Now on the gale her voice was borne : — 
 'Fatiicr!' sjie cried; the rocks around 
 Ijoved to prolong the gentle sound. 
 Awhile she paused, no answer came: — - 
 ']\Ialcolm, was thine the blast?' the name 
 I-ess resolutely uttered fell. 
 The echoes could not catch the swell. 
 'A stranger I,' the Huntsman said. 
 Advancing from the hazel shade. 
 The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar 
 Pushed her light shallop from the shore. 
 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. 
 Tiien safe, though fluttered and amazed. 
 She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 
 Not his the form, nor his the eye. 
 That youthful maidens wont to fly. 
 
THB CHASE. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 On his bold visage micklle age 
 
 Had slightly pressed its signet sage, 
 
 Yet had not quenched the open truth 
 
 And fiery vehemence of youth ; 
 
 Forward and frolic glee was there, 
 
 Tlie will to do, the soul to dare. 
 
 The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire. 
 
 Of hasty love or headlong ire. 
 
 His limbs were cast in manly mould 
 
 For hardy sports or contest bold ; 
 
 And tliough in peaceful garb arrayed, 
 
 And weaponless except his blade, 
 
 His stately mien as well implied 
 
 A high-born heart, a martial pride, 
 
 As if a baron's cre.st he wore. 
 
 And sheathed in armor trode the shore. 
 
 Slighting the petty need he showed. 
 
 He told of his benighted road : 
 
 His ready speech flowed fair and free. 
 
 In phrase of gentlest courtesy. 
 
 Vet seemed that tone and gesture bland 
 
 Less used to sue than to command. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Awhile the maid the stranger eyed. 
 And, reassured, at length replied. 
 That Highland halls were open still 
 To wildcrcd wanderers of the hill. 
 'Nor tliink you unexpected come 
 To yon lone isle, our desert heme ; 
 Before the heath had lost the dew. 
 This morn, a couch was pulled for you; 
 On yonder mountain's purple head 
 Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, 
 And our broad nets have swept the mere. 
 To furnish forth your evening cheer.' — 
 'Now, by the rood, my lovely maid. 
 Your courtesy has erred.' he said ; 
 'No right have I to claim, misplaced. 
 The welcome of expected guest. 
 A wanderer, here by fortune tost, 
 My way, my friends, my courser lost, 
 I lu'er before, believe me, fair. 
 
 Have ever drawn your mountain air, 
 Till on this lake's romantic strand 
 I found a fay in fairy land !' — 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 'I well believe,' the maid replied. 
 
 As her light skiff approached the side, — ' 
 
 'I well believe, that ne'er before 
 
 Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore; 
 
 But yet, as far as yesternight. 
 
 Old Allan-banc foretold your plight, — 
 
 A gray-haired sire, whose e^'e intent 
 
 Was on the visioncd 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 tasselled horn so gayly gilt, 
 
 That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, 
 
 That cap with heron's 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 deemed it was my father's horn 
 
 Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne.' 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The stranger smiled : — 'Since to your 
 
 home 
 A destined errant-knight I come. 
 Announced by prophet sooth and old. 
 Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold, 
 I'll lightly front each high emprise 
 For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 
 Permit me first the task to guide 
 Your fairy frigate o'er the tide.' 
 The maid, with smile suppressed and sly, 
 The toil unwonted saw him try ; 
 For seldom, sure, if e'er before. 
 His noble hand had grasped an oar: 
 Yet with main sti'ength his strokes he 
 
 drew. 
 .\nd o'er the lake the shallop flew; 
 With heads erect and whimpering cry. 
 
 
 
THE LADY OF THB LAKE 
 
 The hounds behind their passage ply. 
 Nor frequent does the bright oar break 
 The darkening mirror of the lake, 
 Until the rocky isle they reach, 
 And moor their shallop on the beach. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The stranger viewed the sliore around ; 
 'T was all so close with copsewood lumnd, 
 Nor track nor pathway might declare 
 That human foot frequented there, 
 Until the mountain maiden showed 
 A clambering un.suspected road. 
 That winded through the tangled screen. 
 And opened on a narrow green, 
 Where weeping birch and willow round 
 With their long fibres swept the ground. 
 Here, for retreat in dangerous hour. 
 Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 It was a lodge of ample size, 
 
 But strange of structure and device ; 
 
 Of such materials as around 
 
 The workman's hand had readiest found. 
 
 Lopped of their boughs, their hoar 
 
 trunks bared. 
 And by the hatchet rudely squared. 
 To give the walls their destined height, 
 Tlie sturdy oak and ash unite ; 
 While moss and clay and leaves combined 
 To fence each crevice from the wind. 
 The lighter pine-trees overhead 
 Their slender length for rafters spread, 
 
 And withered heath and rushes dry 
 
 Supplied a russet canopy. 
 
 Due westward, fronting to the green, 
 
 A rural portico was seen. 
 
 Aloft on native pillars borne. 
 
 Of mountain fir with bai'k unshorn. 
 
 Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine 
 
 The ivy and Idipan vine. 
 
 The clematis, the favored flower 
 
 Which boasts the name of virgin-bower. 
 
 And every liardy plant could bear 
 Loch Katrine's keen and searching air. 
 An instant in this porcli she stayed, 
 And gayly to the stranger said : 
 'On heaven and on thy lady call, 
 •And enter the enchanted hall !' 
 
 xxvii. 
 'My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, 
 jMy gentle guide, in following thee !" — 
 He crossed the threshold, — and a clang 
 Of angry steel that instant rang. 
 To his bold brow his spirit rushed, 
 But soon f<n- vain alarm he blushed. 
 When on the floor he saw displayed. 
 Cause of the din, a naked blade 
 Dropped from the sheath, that careless 
 
 flung 
 Upon a stag's huge antlers swung; 
 For all around, the walls to grace. 
 Hung trophies of the fight or chase: 
 A target there, a bugle here, 
 A battle-axe, a hunting-spear, 
 And broad.swords, bows, and arrows store. 
 With the tusked trophies of the boar. 
 Here grins the wolf as when he died. 
 And there the wild-cat's lirindled hide 
 The frontlet of the elk adorns. 
 Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ; 
 Pennons and flags defaced and stained. 
 That blackening streaks of blood re- 
 tained, 
 And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white. 
 With otter's fur and seal's unite, 
 Li rude and uncouth tapestry all. 
 To garnish forth the sylvan hall. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 The wondering stranger round him 
 
 gazed. 
 And next the fallen weapon raised: — 
 Few were the amis whose sinewy strength 
 Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. 
 And as the brand he poised and swaj'ed, 
 
THE/ CHASB 
 
 'I never knew but one,' he said, 
 
 'Whose stalwart ann might brook to 
 
 wield 
 A blade like this in battle-field.' 
 She sighed, then smiled and took the 
 
 word : 
 'You see the guardian champion's sword ; 
 As light it trembles in his hand 
 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. 
 
 Tlie mistress of the mansion came, 
 IMature of age, a graceful dame, 
 Whose easy step and stately port 
 Had well become a princely court. 
 To wjiom, though more than kindred 
 
 knew, 
 Young Ellen gave a mother's due. 
 Meet welcome to her guest she made, 
 And every courteous rite was paid 
 That hospitality could claim. 
 Though all unasked his birth and name. 
 Such then the reverence to a guest. 
 That fellest foe might join the feast. 
 And from hi.s deadliest fooman's door 
 Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er. 
 At length his rank the stranger names, 
 'The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz- 
 
 James ; 
 Lord of a barren heritage. 
 Which his brave sires, from age to age, 
 By their good swords had held with toil ; 
 His sire had fallen in such turmoil, 
 And he, God wot, was forced to stand 
 Oft for liis right with blade in hand. 
 Tin's morning with Lord IMoray's train 
 He chased a stalwart stag in vain, 
 Outstripped his comrades, missed the 
 
 deer. 
 Lost his good steed, and wandered here.' 
 
 Fain would the Knight in turn require 
 The name and state of Ellon's sire. 
 Well showed the elder lad^y's mien 
 Tiiat courts and cities she had seen : 
 Ellen, though more her looks displayed 
 The simple grace of sylvan maid. 
 In speech and gesture, form and face, 
 Showed she was come of gentle race. 
 'T were strange in ruder rank to find 
 Sucii looks, such manners, and such mind 
 Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, 
 Dame Margaret heard with silence 
 
 grave ; 
 Or Ellon, innocently gay. 
 Turned all inquiry light away : — 
 'Weird women we ! by dale and down 
 We dwell, afar from tower and town. 
 Wo stem the flood, we ride the blast. 
 On wandering knights our spells we cast ; 
 While viewless minstrels touch the string, 
 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing.' 
 She sung, and still a harp unseen 
 Filled up the symphony between. 
 
 XXXI. 
 SONG. 
 
 'Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, 
 
 Sleep the sleep that knows not break- 
 ing; 
 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, 
 IMorn of toil, nor night of waking. 
 
 'No rude sound shall reach thine ear. 
 
 Armor's clang or war-stocd champing. 
 Trump nor pibroch summon liore 
 
 |>*1'CU|»UUI^' H 
 
THE LADY OF THB LAKE 
 
 Mustering clan or squadron tramping. 
 Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 
 
 At tiie 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 champ- 
 in ff, 
 Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.' 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 She paused. — then, blushing, led the lay, 
 To grace the stranger of the day. 
 Her mellow notes awhile prolong 
 The cadence of the flowing song, 
 Till to her lips in measured frame 
 The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 
 'Huntsman, rest ! thy cliase i.s done; 
 
 While our slumbrous spells assail ye. 
 Dream not, with the rising sun. 
 
 Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
 Sleej) ! the deer is in his den ; 
 
 Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying ; 
 Sleeji ! nor dream in yonder glen 
 
 How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
 Huntsman, rest! tjiy chase is done; 
 "^riiiiik not of the rising sun, 
 For at dawning to assail ye 
 Here no busies sound reveille.' 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The hall was cleared. — the stranger's 
 
 bed. 
 Was there of mountain heather spread, 
 Where oft a hundred guests had lain. 
 And dreamed their forest sports again. 
 But vainly did the heath-flower shed 
 Its moorland fragrance round his head; 
 Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest 
 The fever of his troubled breast. 
 In broken dreams the image rose 
 Of varied perils, pains, and woes: 
 His steed now flounders in the brake. 
 
 Now sinks his barge upon the lake; 
 
 Now leader of a broken host, 
 
 His standard falls, his honor's lost. 
 
 Then, — from my couch may heavenly 
 might 
 
 Chase that worst phantom of the 
 night ! — 
 
 Again returned the scenes of youth, 
 
 Of confident, undoubting truth ; 
 
 Again his soul he interchanged 
 
 With friends whose hearts weri' long es- 
 tranged. 
 
 Tliev 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.' 
 
 Dreamed he of death or broken vow, 
 
 Or is it all a vision now? 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 At length, witli Ellen in a grove 
 He seemed to walk and speak of love ; 
 She listened with a blush and sigh, 
 His suit was warm, his hopes were high. 
 He sought her yielded hand to chusp. 
 And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : 
 The phantom's sex was changed and 
 
 gone. 
 Upon its head a helmet shone; 
 Slowly enlarged to giant size. 
 With darkened cheek and threatening 
 
 eyes, 
 The grisly visage, stern and hoar, 
 To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 
 He woke, and, panting with affright. 
 Recalled the vision of the night. 
 The hearth's decaying brands were red, 
 And deep and dusky lustre shed, 
 Half showing, half concealing, all 
 The uncouth trophies of the hall. 
 Mid those the stranger fixed his eye 
 Where that huge falchion hung on high, 
 
THB CHASR 
 
 And thoughts on thoughts, a countless 
 
 throng. 
 Rushed, 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, 
 Played on the water's still expanse, — 
 Wild were the heart whose passion's sway 
 Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 
 He felt its calm, that warrior guest, 
 While thus he connnuned with his 
 breast : — 
 
 'Why is it, at each turn I trace 
 Some memory of that exiled race.' 
 Can I not mountain maiden spy. 
 But she must bear the Douglas eye.'' 
 Can I not view a Highland brand. 
 But it must match the Douglas hand.'' 
 Can I not frame a fevered dream. 
 But still the Douglas is the theme? 
 I'll dream no more, — by manly mind 
 Not even in sleep is will resigned. 
 My midnight orisons said o'er, 
 I'll turn to rest, and dream no more.' 
 His midnight orisons he told, 
 A prayer with every bead of gold, 
 Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, 
 And sunk in undisturbed repose. 
 Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, 
 And morning dawned on Benvenue. 
 
 
 <f=^ 
 
 ^,^=^iu,i;|ll»(.tj.-illll<;«| |,)l 
 
^^J'^^ 
 
 
 
 CANTO SECOND 
 
 THE ISLAND 
 
 At morn the black-cock trims liis jetty 
 wing, 
 'T is morningf prompts tlie linnet's 
 blithest lav, 
 All Nature's diildrcn feel the matin 
 sjjring 
 Of life reviving, with reviving day : 
 And while yon little bark glides down the 
 bay, 
 Wafting the stranger on his way' 
 again, 
 Mom's genial influence roused a' minstrel 
 gray, 
 And sweetly o'er the lake was heard 
 thy strain, 
 Mixed with the sounding hai-p, O white- 
 haiiTd Allan-bane ! 
 
 II. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 'Not faster }-ondcr rowers' might 
 Flings from tlieir oars the spray. 
 
 Not faster yonder rippling bright. 
 
 That tracks the shallop's course in light, 
 Melts in the lake away. 
 
 Than men from memory erase 
 
 The benefits of fonner days ; 
 
 Then, stranger, go ; good speed the 
 while. 
 
 Nor think again of the lonely isle. 
 
 'High place to thee in royal court, 
 
 High place in battled line. 
 Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport ! 
 Where beauty sees the brave resort, 
 
 The honored meed be thine ! 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
THB ISLAND 
 
 True be tliy sword, thy friend sincere, 
 Tliy lady constant, kind, and dear. 
 And lost in love's and friendship's smile 
 Be memory of the lonely isle ! 
 
 m. 
 
 SONG CONTIXIED. 
 
 'But if beneath yon southern sky 
 
 A plaided stranger roam, 
 Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, 
 And sunken cheek and heavy eye, 
 
 Pine for his Highland home; 
 Then, warrior, then be thine to show 
 The care that soothes a wanderer's woe; 
 Remember then thy hap erewhile, 
 A stranger in the lonely isle. 
 
 'Or if on life's uncertain main 
 
 ]Mishap shall mar th3' sail ; 
 If faithful, wise, and brave in vain, 
 Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 
 
 Beneath the fickle gale ; 
 Waste not a sigh on fortune changed. 
 On thankless courts, or friends estranged. 
 But come where kindred worth shall smile. 
 To greet thee in the lonely isle.' 
 
 IV. 
 
 As died the sounds upon the tide, 
 
 The shallop reached the mainland side. 
 
 And ere his onward way he took, 
 
 The stranger cast a lingering look, 
 
 Where easily his ej'e might reach 
 
 The Harper on the islet beach, 
 
 Reclined against a blighted tree, 
 
 As wasted, gray, and worn as he. 
 
 To minstrel meditation given. 
 
 His reverend brow was raised to heaven. 
 
 As from the rising sun to claim 
 
 A sparkle of inspiring flame. 
 
 His hand, reclined upon the wire. 
 
 Seemed watching the awakening fire; 
 
 So still he sat as those who wait 
 
 Till judgment speak the doom of fate; 
 
 So still, as if no breeze mi"'ht dare 
 
 To lift one lock of hoary hair ; 
 
 So still, as life itself were fled 
 
 In the last sound his harji had sped. 
 
 V. 
 
 Upon a rock with lichens wild, 
 Beside him Ellen sat and smiled. — 
 Smiled she to see the stately drake 
 Lead forth his fleet upon the lake. 
 While her vexed spaniel from the beach 
 Bayed at the prize beyond his reach.'' 
 Yet tell me, then, the }nai(l who know.s, 
 Why deepened on her cheek the rose.' — 
 Forgive, forgive. Fidelity ! 
 P'rchance the maiden smiled to see 
 Yon })arting lingerer wave adieu. 
 And stop and turn to wave anew ; 
 And, lovely ladies, ere your ire 
 Condcnni the heroine of my lyre. 
 Show me the fair would scorn to spy 
 And jirize such conquest of her eye! 
 
 While yet he loitered on the spot, 
 It seemed as Ellen marked him not; 
 But when he turned him to the glade. 
 One courteous parting sign she made ; 
 And after, oft the knight would say, 
 That not when prize of festal day 
 Was dealt him by the brightest fair 
 Whiy e'er wore jewel in her hair, 
 So highly did his bosom swell 
 As at that .simple mute farewell. 
 ^ow with a trusty mountain-guide, 
 And his dark stag-hounds by his side, 
 He parts, — the maid, unconscious still. 
 Watched him wind slowly round the hill ; 
 But when his statel}' form was hid. 
 The guardian in her bosom chid. — 
 'Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid !' 
 'T was thus upbraiding conscience 
 
 said, — 
 'Not so had ]\Ialcolni idlv hung 
 On the smooth phrase of Southern 
 
 tongue ; 
 
 ^J-^' T;., 
 .^.^-. ^.5. 
 
 
THB LADY OF THB LAKE/ 
 
 '^4^ 
 
 X 
 
 (._.- 
 
 
 
 Not so had Miilcolm strained his eye 
 Another step than thine to spy-' — • 
 'Wake, Allan-bane,' aloud siie cried 
 To the old minstrel by her side, — 
 'Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! 
 I'll give thy harp heroic theme, 
 And warm thee with a noble name ; 
 Pour forth the glory of the Gra?me !' 
 Scarce from her lip the word had rushed. 
 When deep the conscious maiden blushed ; 
 For of his clan, in hall and bower, 
 Young jMalcolm Gra?me was held the 
 flower. 
 
 vn. 
 The minstrel waked his harp, — three 
 
 times 
 Arose the well-known martial chimes, 
 And thrice their high heroic pride 
 In melancholy nuirmurs died. 
 'A'ainly thou bidst, O noble maid,' 
 Clasping liis witlicred hands, he said, 
 'Vainly thou bidst me wake the strain, 
 Though all unwont to bid in vain. 
 Alas ! than mine a mightier hand 
 Has tuned my harp, my strings has 
 
 spanned ! 
 I touch the chords of joy, but low 
 And mournful answer notes of woe; 
 And the proud march Avhich 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 
 
 swayed, , 
 Can thus its master's fate foretell, 
 Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ! 
 
 Yin. 
 'But ah ! dear lady, thus it sighed, 
 The eve thy sainted mother died ; 
 And such the sounds which, while I 
 strove 
 
 To wake a lay of war or love, 
 
 Came marring all the festal mirth, 
 
 Aijpalling me who gave them birth, 
 
 And, disobedient to my call. 
 
 Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered 
 
 hall, 
 Ere Douglases, to ruin driven. 
 Were exiled from their native heaven. — 
 O ! if yet worse mishap and woe 
 My master's house must undei-go. 
 Or aught but weal to Ellen fair 
 Brood in these accents of despair. 
 No future bard, sad Harj) ! shall fling 
 Triumph or rapture from thy string; 
 One short, one final strain shall flow. 
 Fraught with unutterable woe. 
 Then siiivcred shall thy fragments lie, 
 Thy master cast him down and die !' 
 
 IX. 
 
 Soothing she answered him: 'Assuage, 
 Mine honored friend, the fears of age; 
 All melodies to thee are known 
 niat harp has rung or pipe has blown. 
 In Lowland vale or Highland glen, 
 From Tweed to Spey — what marvel, 
 
 then, 
 At times unbidden notes should rise. 
 Confusedly bound in memory's ties. 
 Entangling, as they rush along. 
 The war-march with the funeral song? — 
 Small ground is now for boding fear; 
 Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. 
 Mv sire, in native virtue great. 
 Resigning lordship, lands, and state, 
 Not then to fortune more resigned 
 Than yonder oak might give the wind ; 
 The graceful foliage storms may reave, 
 The noble stem they cannot grieve. 
 For me' — she stooped, and, looking 
 
 round, 
 Plucked a blue harebell from the 
 
 ground, — 
 'For me, whose memory scarce conveys 
 
 I 
 
THB ISLAND 
 
 An image of more splendid days, 
 This little flower that loves the lea 
 May well my simple emblem Ije ; 
 It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose 
 That in the King's own garden grows ; 
 And when I place it in my hair, 
 Allan, a bard is bound to swear 
 He ne'er saw coronet so fair.' 
 Then pla3'fully the chaplet wild 
 She wreathed in her dark locks, and 
 smiled. 
 
 Her smile, her speech, with winning 
 
 sway. 
 Wiled the old Harper's mood away. 
 With such a look as hermits throw, 
 When angels stoop to sooth their woe, 
 He gazed, till fond regret and pride 
 Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied : 
 'Loveliest and be.st ! thou little know'st 
 Tlie rank, the honors, thou hast lost ! 
 O, might I live to see thee grace. 
 In Scotland's court, thy birthright place. 
 To see my favorite's step advance 
 The lightest in tiie courtly dance, 
 The cause of every gallant's sigh, 
 And leading star of every eye, 
 And theme of every minstrel's art. 
 The Lady of the Bleeding Heart !' 
 
 XI. 
 
 'Fair dreams are these,' the maiden 
 
 cried, — 
 Light was her accent, 3'et she sighed, — 
 'Yet is this mossy rock to me 
 Worth splendid ciiair and canopy ; 
 Nor would my footstep spring more gay 
 In courtly dance than blithe strathspey, 
 Nor half so pleased mine car incline 
 To royal minstrel's lay as thine. 
 And then for suitors proud and high. 
 To bend before my conquering eye, — 
 Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt say, 
 
 That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 
 The Saxon scourge. Clan- Alpine's pride, 
 The teri'or of Loch Lomond's side. 
 Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 
 A Lennox foray — for a da_v.' — 
 
 XII. 
 
 The ancient bard her glee repressed : 
 '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, «hen back the dirk he drew. 
 Courtiers give place before the stride 
 Of the undaunted homicide ; 
 And since, though outlawed, hath his 
 
 hand 
 Full sternly kept his mountain land. 
 Who else dared 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 our relief, 
 And now thy maiden charms expand, 
 Looks for his guerdon in thy hand ; 
 Full soon may dispensation sought. 
 To back his suit, from Rome be brought. 
 Then, though an exile on the hill. 
 Thy father, as the Douglas, still 
 Be held in reverence and fear ; 
 And though to Roderick thou 'rt so dear 
 That thou mightst guide with silken 
 
 thread. 
 Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread. 
 Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! 
 Thv hand is on a lion's mane.' — 
 
 'Minstrel,' the maid replied, and high 
 Her father's soul glanced from her eye, 
 ']My debts to Roderick's house I know: 
 
^^, 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 
 A. 
 
 All tlmt a mother could bestow 
 To Lady JMarjitaret's care I owe, 
 Since first an orphan in the wild 
 She sorrowed o'er her sister's child ; 
 To her brave chieftain son, from ire 
 Of Scotland's kintr who shrouds my sire, 
 A deeper, holier debt is owed ; 
 And, could I pay it with my blood, 
 Allan ! Sir Roderick should command 
 ]\Iy blood, my life, — but not my hand. 
 Ratiicr will Kllcn Douglas dwell 
 A votaress in ]Maronnan's cell ; 
 Rather through realms beyond the sea. 
 Socking the world's cold charity. 
 Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word. 
 And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, 
 An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 
 Than wed the man she cannot love. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 'Thou shak'st, good friend, thy tresses 
 
 gray,— 
 That pleading look, what can it say 
 But what I own? — I grant him brave. 
 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 wind. 
 And in the Lowland leave behind. 
 Where once .some pleasant hamlet stood, 
 A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 
 The hand that for n>y father fought 
 I honor, as his daughter ought : 
 Rut can I clasp it reeking red 
 From peasants slaughtered in their 
 
 shed ? 
 No ! wildly while his virtues gleam. 
 
 They make his passions darker seem. 
 And flash along his spirit high. 
 Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 
 While yet a child, — and children know, 
 Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — 
 I shuddered at his brow of gloom, 
 His shadowy jilaid and sable plume; 
 A maiden grown, I ill could bear 
 His haughty mien and lordly air: 
 But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim, 
 In serious mood, to Roderick's name, 
 I thrill with anguish ! or. if e'er 
 A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 
 To change sucii odious theme were 
 
 best, — 
 What think'.st thou of our stranger 
 
 guest ?' — 
 
 'What think I of him.'' — woe the while 
 That brought such wanderer to our isle ! 
 Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 
 For Tine-man forged by fairy lore. 
 What time he leagued, no longer foes. 
 His Border spears with Hotspur's bows. 
 Did, sclf-unscabbercd, foreshow 
 The footstep of a secret foe. 
 If courtly spy hath harbored here, 
 What may we for the Douglas fear? 
 What for this island, deemed of old 
 Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold? 
 If neither spy nor foe. I pray 
 What yet may jealous Roderick say? — 
 Xay. wave not thy disdainful head! 
 Bethink thee of the discord dread 
 That kindled when at Beltane game 
 Tliou ledst the dance with Malcolm 
 
 Gramme : 
 Still, though thy sire the peace renewed, 
 Smoidders in Roderick's breast the feud : 
 Beware! — But hark! what sounds arc 
 
 these? 
 My dull ears catch no faltering breeze. 
 No weeping birch nor aspens wake. 
 
THE. ISLAND 
 
 Nor breatli is dimpling in the lake; 
 Still is tlie cunna's hoary beard. 
 Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 
 And hark aoajn ! some pijie of war 
 Sends the bold jjibroch from afar.' 
 
 Far up the lengthened lake were spied 
 Four darkening specks upon the tide, 
 That, slow enlarging on tlie view. 
 Four maimed and masted barges grew, 
 And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, 
 Steered full upon the lonely isle; 
 The point of IJrianchoil they passed. 
 And, to the windward as they cast. 
 Against the sun tlicy gave to shine 
 The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine. 
 Nearer and nearer as they bear. 
 Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. 
 Now might you see the tartans brave, 
 And plaids and plumage dance and wave: 
 Now see the lionnets sink and rise. 
 As his tough oar the rower plies ; 
 See, fla.shing at each sturdy stroke. 
 The wave ascending into smoke; 
 Sec the proud pipers on tlie bow. 
 And mark the gaudy streamers flow 
 From tlieir loud chanters down, and 
 
 sweep 
 Tile furrowed bosom of the deep. 
 As, rushing through tlie lake amain, 
 They plied the ancient Higiiland strain. 
 
 xvn. 
 
 Ever, as on they bore, more loud 
 And louder rung the pibroch proud. 
 At first the sounds, by distance tame, 
 IMellowcd along the waters came, 
 And, lingering long by cape and bay. 
 Wailed every harsher note away, 
 Then Inirsting bolder on the ear. 
 The clan's shrill Gathering they could 
 liear. 
 
 Those thrilling sounds that call the 
 
 might 
 Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight. 
 Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 
 The mustering iiundreds shake the glen, 
 And hurrying at the signal dread. 
 The battered earth returns their tread. 
 Then prelude light, of livelier tone. 
 Expressed their merry marching on. 
 Ere peal of closing battle rose, 
 Witli mingled outcry, shrieks and blows; 
 And mimic din of stroke and ward. 
 As broadsword a])on target jarred ; 
 And groaning pause, ere yet again. 
 Condensed, the battle yelled amain : 
 The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 
 Retreat horiic 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 prolonged and low. 
 And changed the conquering clarion swell 
 For wild lament o'er those that fell. 
 
 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, bending to his oar. 
 With measured sweep the burden bore. 
 In such wild cadence as the breeze 
 Makes through December's leafless trees. 
 Tlie chorus first could Allan know, 
 'Roderick 'N'ich Alpine, ho ! iro !' 
 And near, and nearer as they rowed. 
 Distinct the martial ditty flowed. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 BOAT SOXG. 
 
 Ilail to tlie Chief who in triumph ad- 
 vances ! 
 
THE LADY OF THB LAKE 
 
 
 
 V" 
 
 ^ 
 
 Honored and blessed be tbc cvcr-ftrecn 
 Tine ! 
 Lon<;- may tlie tree, in bis banner tbat 
 glances, 
 rioiirisb, the sbeltcr and grace of our 
 line! 
 
 Heaven send it liappy dew, 
 Eartli lend it sap anew, 
 Ga_vly to bourgeon and broadly to 
 grow, 
 
 Wbile every Highland glen 
 
 Sends our shout back again, 
 
 'Rodcrigh Vich Alpine dim, bo! ieroc!' 
 
 Ours is no sapling, cliance-sown by the 
 fountain, 
 Blooming at Beltane, in winter to 
 fade; 
 When the whirlwind has stripped every 
 leaf on the mountain, 
 The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in 
 her shade. 
 
 ISIoored in the rifted rock, 
 Proof to the tempest's shock. 
 Firmer he roots bim the ruder it blow; 
 IVIenteith and Breadalbanc, then, 
 Echo his praise again, 
 'Rodcrigh A'ich Alpine dim, ho ! ieroe !' 
 
 XX. 
 
 Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen 
 Fniin, 
 And Bannochar's groans to our slogan 
 replied ; 
 Glen Luss and Ross-dbu, they are .smok- 
 ing in ruin. 
 And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead 
 on her side. 
 
 Widow and Saxon maid 
 T>ong shall lament oiu' raid. 
 Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and 
 with woe ; 
 
 Lennox and Leven-glen 
 Shake when they bear again, 
 'Rodcrigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe !' 
 
 Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the 
 Highlands ! 
 Stretch to your oars for the ever-green 
 Pine ! 
 O tbat the rosebud that graces yon is- 
 lands 
 Were wreathed in a garland around 
 him to twine ! 
 
 O tbat some seedling gem. 
 Worthy such noble stem. 
 Honored and blessed in their shadow 
 might grow ! 
 
 Loud should Clan-Al])inc then 
 
 Ring from her deejmiost glen, 
 
 'Rodcrigh A'icb Alpine dim, ho ! ieroe !' 
 
 XXI. 
 
 With all her joyfid female band 
 Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 
 Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, 
 And high their snowy arms they threw. 
 As echoing back with shrill acclaim, 
 And chorus wild, tjie Chieftain's name; 
 While, prompt to ])lease, 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 obeyed. 
 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, 
 Sl'.c darted to her shallop light. 
 And, eagerly while Roderick scanned. 
 For her dear fomi, his mother's band, 
 Tlie islet far behind her lay. 
 And she had landed in the bay. 
 
THB ISLAND 
 
 Some feelings are to mortals given 
 Willi less of earth in them than lieaven ; 
 And if tliere be a human tear 
 From passion's dross refined and clear, 
 A tear so limpid and so meek 
 It would not stain an angel's cheek, 
 'T is that which pious fathers shed 
 Upon a duteous daughter's head ! 
 And as the Douglas to his breast 
 His darling Ellen closcl}' pressed, 
 Such holy drops her tresses steeped, 
 Though 't was an hero's eye that weeped. 
 Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 
 Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 
 Marked she that fear — affection's 
 
 proof — 
 Still held a graceful jouth aloof; 
 No ! not till Douglas named his name. 
 Although the youth was ^Malcolm Gra?me. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Allan, with wistful look the while, 
 Marked Roderick landing on the isle ; 
 His master piteously he eyed. 
 Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride. 
 Then dashed with hasty hand away 
 From his dimmed eye the gathering 
 
 spray ; 
 And Douglas, as his hand he laid 
 On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said : 
 'Canst thou, young friend, no meaning 
 
 spy 
 
 In my poor follower's glistening eye? 
 I'll tell thee : — he recalls the day 
 When in my praise he led the lay 
 O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, 
 While many a minstrel answered loud, 
 When Percy's Norman pennon, won 
 In bloody field, before me shone. 
 And twice ten knights, the least a name 
 As mighty as yon Chief may claim. 
 Gracing my pomp, behind me came. 
 Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 
 
 Was I of all that marshalled crowd. 
 Though the waned crescent owned my 
 
 might. 
 And in my train trooped lord and knight. 
 Though Blantyre hj'mned 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 ni}' 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 check appeared. 
 For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 
 The flash 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, relaxed his eye. 
 Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 
 And, trust, while in such guise she stood, 
 Like fabled Goddess of the wood, 
 Tliat if a father's partial thought 
 O'erweighed her worth and beauty aught, 
 Well might the lover's judgment fail 
 To balance with a juster scale ; 
 For with each secret glance he stole. 
 The fond enthusiast sent his soul. 
 
 Of stature fair, and slender frame, 
 But firmly knit, was Malcolm Gramme. 
 The belted plaid and tartan hose 
 Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose ; 
 His flaxen hair, of sunnv hue. 
 Curled closclv round his bonnet blue. 
 
THB LADY OF THB LAKE. 
 
 Tniincd to tlic chase, his eagle eye 
 The ptarmigan in snow could spy; 
 Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath. 
 He knew, through Lennox and JMenteith ; 
 Vain was the bound of dark-brown doc 
 When Malcolm bent his sounding bow. 
 And scarce that doe, though winged witli 
 
 fear. 
 Outstripped in speed the mountaineer : 
 Right up Ben Lomond could he press. 
 And not a sob his toil confess. 
 His form accorded with a mind 
 Lively and ardent, frank and kind ; 
 A blither heart, till Ellen came. 
 Did never love nor sorrow tame ; 
 It danced as lightsome in his breast 
 As plaved the feather on his crest. 
 Yet friends, who nearest knew the viiutli. 
 His scorn of wrong, his zial for truth. 
 And bard.s, who saw his features bold 
 When kindled by the tales of old. 
 Said, were that youth to manhood grown. 
 Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown 
 Re foremost voiced by mountain fame, 
 But quail to that of ]\Ialcolni Grjcnie. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Now back they wend their watery way. 
 And, 'O my sire!' did Ellen say, 
 'Why urge thy chase so far astray? 
 And why so late returned? And why' — 
 The rest was in her speaking eve. 
 'My child, the chase I follow far, 
 'T is minn'cry of noble war; 
 And with that gallant pastime reft 
 Were all of Douglas I have left. 
 I met young IVLdcolm as I .strayed 
 Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade ; 
 Nor strayed I safe, for all around 
 Hunters and horsemen scoured the 
 
 ground. 
 This youth, though still a roval ward. 
 Risked life and land to be my guard. 
 And through the passes of the wood 
 
 Guided my steps, not unpursued ; 
 And Roderick shall his welcome make, 
 Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. 
 Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen, 
 Xor peril aught for me again.' 
 
 Sir Roderick, who to meet them came. 
 Reddened at sight of .Malcolm Gra'me, 
 Vet, not in action, word, or eye. 
 Failed auglit in hospitality. 
 In talk and sport tliey while awav 
 The morning of that sunmier day; 
 But at high noon a courier light 
 Held secret parley with the knight, 
 Whose moody aspect soon declared 
 That evil were the news he heard. 
 Deep thought seemed toiling in his head; 
 Vet was the evening banquet made 
 Ere he assembled round the flame 
 His mother, Douglas, and the Gra-me, 
 .\nd Ellen too: then cast around 
 His eyes, then fixed them on the ground, 
 .As studying phrase that might avail 
 Best to convey unpleasant tale. 
 Long with his dagger's hilt he plaved. 
 Then raised his haughty brow, and 
 said : — 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 'Short be my speech ; — nor time affords, 
 Nor my plain temper, glozing words. 
 Kinsman and father, — if such name 
 Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim ; 
 Mine honored mother; — Ellen, — why. 
 My cousin, turn away thine eye.' — 
 And Gra-me, in whom I hope to know 
 Full soon a noble friend or foe. 
 When age shall give thee thy command. 
 And leading in thy native land, — 
 List all ! — The King's vindictive pride 
 Boasts to have tamed tlic Border-side, 
 Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who 
 came 
 
THB ISLAND 
 
 To share tlieir monarcli's sylvan game, 
 Themselves in bloody toils were snared, 
 And wlicn tlie banquet they prepared, 
 And wide their loyal jTOrtals flung, 
 O'er their own gateway struggling hung. 
 Loud cries their blood from Meggat's 
 
 mead. 
 From Yarrow braes and banks of Tweed, 
 Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide. 
 And from the silver Teviot's side : 
 Tiie dales, where martial clans did ride, 
 Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 
 This tyrant of the Scottish throne. 
 So faitliless and so ruthless known. 
 Now hither comes; liis end the same. 
 The same pretext of sylvan game. 
 What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge 
 
 ye 
 
 By fate of Border chivalry. 
 
 Yet more ; amid Gienfinlas' green, 
 
 Douglas, thy stately form was seen. 
 
 This by espial sure I know : 
 
 Your counsel in the streight I show.' 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Ellen and Margaret fearfully 
 Sought comfort in each other's eye. 
 Then turnrd tlieir ghastly look, each one. 
 This to her sire, that to her son. 
 The hasty color went and came 
 In tlie bold cheek of Alalcolm Gra^ne, 
 But from his glance it well apjieared 
 'T was but for Ellen that he feared ; 
 While, sorrowful, but undismayed. 
 The Douglas thus his counsel said : 
 'Brave Roderick, tliough the tempest 
 roar, 
 
 It may but thunder and pass o'er ; 
 Nor will I licre remain an hour. 
 
 To draw the lightning on thy bower ; 
 For well thou know'st, at this gray head 
 The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 
 For thee, who, at thy King's command. 
 Canst aid iiim with a gallant band, 
 
 Submission, homage, humbled pride. 
 Shall turn the Monarcli's wratli aside. 
 Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 
 Ellen and I will seek apart 
 The refuge of some forest coll, 
 Tiiere, like tiie liunted quarry, dwell. 
 Till on the mountain and the moor 
 Tlie stern pursuit be passed and o'er,' — 
 
 'No, by mine honor,' Roderick said, 
 
 'So help me Heaven, and my good blade ! 
 
 No, never! Blasted be yon Pine, 
 
 My father's ancient crest and mine. 
 
 If from its shade in danger part 
 
 Tile lineage of tiic Bleeding Heart! 
 
 Hear my blunt speech : grant me this 
 
 mail! 
 To wife, thy counsel to mine aid ; 
 To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu 
 Will friends and allies flock enow ; 
 Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief. 
 Will bind to us eacii Western Chief. 
 When the loud pipes my bridal tell. 
 The Links of Forth shall hear the knell. 
 The guards shall start in Stirling's 
 
 porch ; 
 And when I light the nuptial torch, 
 A tiiousand villages in flames 
 Shall scare the slumbers of King 
 
 James ! — 
 Nay, Ellen, blench not tlius away, 
 And, mother, cease these signs, I pray ; 
 I meant not all my heat might sa}'. — 
 Small need of inroad or of fight. 
 When the sage Douglas may unite 
 Eacl) mountain clan in friendly band, 
 To guard the passes of their land. 
 Till the foiled King from pathless glen 
 Shall bootless turn him home again.' 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 There are who have, at midnight hour. 
 In .slumber scaled a dizzy tower. 
 
 ^'^ 
 
THE LADY OF THB LAKE. 
 
 And, on the verge that beetled o'er 
 The ocean tide's incessant roar, 
 Dreamed calmly out tlieir dangerous 
 
 dream. 
 Till wakened by the moniing beam; 
 When, dazzled by the eastern glow, 
 Such startler cast his glance below, 
 And saw unmeasured depth around, 
 And heard unintermitted sound. 
 And thought the battled fence so frail, 
 It waved like cobweb in the gale ; — 
 Amid his senses' giddy wheel. 
 Did he not desperate impulse feel, 
 Headlong to plunge himself below. 
 And meet the worst his fears foreshow? 
 Thus Ellen, dizz_v and astound, 
 As sudden ruin 3'awned around. 
 By crossing terrors wildlv tossed. 
 Still for the Douglas fearing most, 
 Could scarce the desperate thought with- 
 stand, 
 To buy his safety with her hand. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Such purpose dread could IVIalcolm spy 
 In Ellen's quivering lip and eye, 
 And eager rose to speak, — but ere 
 His tongue could hurry forth his fear. 
 Had Douglas marked the hectic strife. 
 Where death seemed combating with life ; 
 Tor to her cheek, in feverish flood, 
 One instant rushed the throbbing blood, 
 Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, 
 Left its domain as wan as clay. 
 'Roderick, enough ! enough !' he cried, 
 'IMy daughter cannot be thy bride; 
 Not that the blush to wooer dear, 
 Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 
 It may not be, — forgive her, Chief, 
 Nor hazard aught for our relief. 
 Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 
 Will level a rebellious spear. 
 'T was I that taught his youthful hand 
 To rein a steed and wield a brand ; 
 
 I see him yet, the princely- boy ! 
 Not Ellen more my pride and joy; 
 I love him still, despite my wrongs 
 By hasty wrath and slanderous tongues. 
 O, seek the grace you well may find, 
 Without a cause to mine combined !' 
 
 xxxni. 
 Twice through the hall the Chieftain 
 
 strode ; 
 The waving of his tartans broad. 
 And darkened brow, where wounded 
 
 pride 
 With ire and disappointment vied, 
 Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light. 
 Like the ill Demon of the night. 
 Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway 
 Up)on the nightcd pilgrim's wa}' : 
 But. unrequited Love! thy dart 
 Plunged deepest its envenomed smart 
 And Roderick, with thine anguish stung, 
 .\t length the hand of Douglas wrung. 
 While eyes that mocked at tears before 
 With bitter drops wore running o'er. 
 The death-pangs of long-cherished hope 
 Scarce in that amj)le breast had scope, 
 But, struggling with his spirit proud, 
 Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud. 
 While every sob — so nnite were all — 
 Was heard distinctly through the hall. 
 The son's despair, the mother's look, 
 111 might the gentle Ellen brook ; 
 She rose, and to her side there came. 
 To aid her parting steps, the Grsme. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Then Roderick from the Douglas broke — 
 As flashes flame through sable smoke. 
 Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, 
 To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, 
 So the deep anguish of despair 
 Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. 
 With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 
 On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid : 
 
t- ■ 
 
THB ISLAND 
 
 'Back, beardless boy !' he sternly said, 
 'Back, minion ! lioldst thou thus at 
 
 nauglit 
 The lesson I so lately taught? 
 This roof, the Douglas, and that maid. 
 Thank thou for punishment delayed.' 
 Eager as greyhound on his game. 
 Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. 
 •Perish my name, if aught afford 
 Its Chieftain safety save his sword !' 
 Tims as thcv strove their desperate hand 
 Griped to the dagger or the brand, 
 And death had been — but Douglas rose, 
 And thrust between the struggling foes 
 His giant strength: — 'Chieftains, fore- 
 go! 
 I hold the first who strikes my foe. — 
 ]\Iadmen, forbear your fiantic jar! 
 What ! is the Douglas fallen so far. 
 His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil 
 Of such dishonorable broil ?' 
 Sullen and slowly they unclasp. 
 As struck with shame, their desperate 
 
 grasp. 
 And each upon his rival glared. 
 With foot advanced and blade half bared. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, 
 IVIargaret on Roderick's mantle hung, 
 And ]\Ialcolm heard his Ellen's scream, 
 As faltered through terrific dream. 
 Then Roderick plunged in sheath his 
 
 sword. 
 And veiled liis wrath in scornful word: 
 'Rest safe till morning; pity 't were 
 Such cheek should feel the midnight air ! 
 Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell, 
 Roderick will keep the lake and fell. 
 Nor lackey with his freeborn clan 
 The pageant pomp of earthly man. 
 INIorc would he of Clan-Alpine know, 
 Tliou canst our strength and passes 
 
 show. — 
 
 ]Mulise. what ho!' — his henchman came: 
 'Give our safe-conduct to the Gra'me.' 
 Young ;\Ialcolm answered, calm and 
 
 bold : 
 'Fear nothing for thy favorite hold; 
 The spot an angel deigned to grace 
 Is blessed, though robbers haunt the 
 
 place. 
 Thy churlish courtesy for those 
 Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 
 As safe to nic the mountain way 
 At midnight as in blaze of day. 
 Though with his boldest at his back 
 Even Roderick Dim beset the track. — 
 Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay, 
 Naught here of ])arting will I say. 
 Earth does not hold a lonesome glen 
 So secret but we meet again. — 
 Chieftain ! we too shall find an hour,' — 
 He said, and left the sylvan bower. 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 Old Allan followed to the strand — - 
 Such was the Douglas's connnand — 
 And anxious told, how, on the morn. 
 The stern Sir Roderick deep had swom. 
 The Fiery Cross should circle o'er 
 Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor. 
 Much were the peril to the Gra'me 
 From those who to the signal came ; 
 Far up the lake 't were safest land. 
 Himself would row him to the strand. 
 Ho gave' his counsel to the wind, 
 While ]\Ialcolni did, unheeding, bind. 
 Round dirk and pouch and broadsword 
 
 rolled. 
 His ample plaid in tightened fold. 
 And stripped his limbs to such an-ay 
 As best might suit the watery way, — 
 
 xxxvii. 
 
 Then spoke abrupt : 'Farewell to thee, 
 Pattern of old fidelity!' 
 
 n^^ K\ 
 
 ^ 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 The Minstrcrs hand he kindly pressed,— 
 'O, could I point a place of rest ! 
 My sovereign holds in ward my land, 
 My uncle leads my vassal band ; 
 To tame his foes, his friends to aid. 
 Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. 
 Yet, if there be one faithful Gra-me 
 Who loves the chieftain of liis name, 
 Not long shall honored Douglas dwell 
 Like hunted stag in mountain cell ; 
 Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare,— 
 I may not give the rest to air ! 
 Tell Roderick Dhu I owed him naught, 
 Not the poor service of a boat, 
 
 To waft me to yon mountain-srde.' 
 Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 
 Bold o'er the flood his head he bore. 
 And stoutly steered him from the shore; 
 And Allan strained his anxious eye, 
 Far nu'd tlie lake his form to spy. 
 Darkening across each puny wave. 
 To which the moon her silver gave. 
 Fast as the cormorant could skim, 
 The swimmer plied each active limb ; 
 Then landing in the moonlight dell. 
 Loud sliouted of his weal to tell. 
 The Minstrel heard tlie far lialloo. 
 And joyful from the shore witlidrew. 
 
CANTO THIRD 
 
 THE CATHKRING. 
 
 Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race 
 of yore, 
 Wlio danced our infancy upon their 
 knee, 
 And told our marvelling boyhood legends 
 store 
 Of their strange ventures happed by 
 land or sea. 
 How are they blotted from the things 
 that be ! 
 How few, all weak and withered of 
 their force. 
 Wait on the verge of dark eternity, 
 Like stranded wrecks, the tide return- 
 ing hoarse. 
 To sweep tliem from- our sight ! Time 
 rolls his ceaseless course. 
 
 Yet live there still wlio can remember 
 well. 
 How, when a mountain cliief liis bugle 
 blew, 
 Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and 
 dell, 
 And solitary heath, the signal knew; 
 
 And fast the faithful clan, around him 
 drew, 
 Wliat time the warning note was keen- 
 ly wound. 
 
 What time aloft their kindred banner 
 
 flew, -.,-^;^ 
 
 While clamorous war-pipes veiled the 
 gathering sound. 
 And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like 
 a meteor, round. 
 
 n. 
 
 The Sunmier dawn's reflected hue 
 
 To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ; 
 
 Mildly and soft the western breeze 
 
 Just kissed the lake, just stirred the 
 
 trees, 
 And the pleased lake, like maiden coy. 
 Trembled but dimpled not for joy: 
 The mountain-shadow.s on her breast 
 Were neither broken nor at rest ; 
 In bright uncertainty they lie, 
 Like future joys to Fancy's eye. 
 The water-lily to the light 
 Her chalice reared of silver bright ; 
 The doc awoke, and to the lawn. 
 
i I 
 
 ^"^ 
 
 THE LADY OF THB LAKE 
 
 i 
 
 Begemmed with dew-drops, led licr fawn ; 
 
 The gray mist left the mountain-side, 
 
 The torrent showed its glistening pride ; 
 
 Invisible in flecked sky 
 
 The lark sent down her revelry : 
 
 The blackbird and the speckled thrush 
 
 Good-morrow gave from brake anil bush ; 
 
 In answer cooed the cushat dove 
 
 Her notes of peace and rest and love. 
 
 III. 
 No thought of peace, no thought of rest. 
 Afsuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. 
 With sheathed broadswoid in his hand. 
 Abrupt he paced the islet strand. 
 And eyed the rising sun. and laid 
 His hand on his impatient blade. 
 Beneath a rock, his vassals' care 
 Wu.s prompt the ritual to ]irepare, 
 With deep and deathful meaning 
 
 fraught ; 
 For such Antiquity had taught 
 Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 
 The Cross of Fire should take its road. 
 The shrinking band stood oft aghast 
 At the impatient glance he cast ; — 
 Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 
 As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, 
 She spread her dark sails on the wind, 
 And, high in middle heaven reclined. 
 With her broad shadow on the lake. 
 Silenced the warblers of the brake. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A heap of withered boughs was piled, 
 Of juniper and rowan wild, 
 IVIingled with .shivers from the oak, 
 Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. 
 Brian the Hermit by it stood, 
 Barefooted, in his frock and hood. 
 His grizzled beard and matted hair 
 Obscured a visage of despair: 
 His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er, 
 
 The scars of frantic penance bore. 
 That monk, of savage form and face, 
 The impentiing danger of his race 
 Had drawn from deepest solitude. 
 Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. 
 Not his the mien of Christian priest. 
 But Druid's, from the gnive released. 
 Whose hardeiud heart and eyu might 
 
 brook 
 On human sacrifice to look ; 
 And much, 't was said, of heathen lore 
 Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er. 
 The hallowed creed gave only «orse 
 And deadlier emphasis of curse. 
 No peasant sought that Hennit's prayer, 
 His cave the pilgrim .shunned with care; 
 The eager huntsman knew his bound. 
 And in mid chase called off his hound ; 
 Or if, in lonely glen or strath. 
 The desert-dweller met his path. 
 He prayed, and signed the cross be- 
 tween. 
 While terror took devotion's mien. 
 
 Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. 
 His mother watched a midnight fold, 
 Built deep within a dreary glen, 
 Where scattered lay the bones of men 
 In some forgotten battle .slain. 
 And bleached by drifting wind and rain. 
 It might have tamed a warrior's heart 
 To view such mockery of his art ! 
 The knot-grass fettered there the hand 
 Wliich once could burst an iron band; 
 Beneath the broad and ample bone. 
 That bucklered heart to fear unknown, 
 A feeble and a timorous guest. 
 The fieldfare framed her lowly nest; 
 Tliere the slow blindworm left his slime 
 On the fleet limbs that mocked at time ; 
 And there, too, lay the leader's .skull, 
 Still wreathed with chaplct. flushed and 
 full. 
 
THE, GATHBRING 
 
 For heath-bell with her purple bloom 
 Supplied tlic bonnet and the plume. 
 All night, in this sad glen, the maid 
 Sat shrouded in her mantle's shade: 
 She said no shepherd souglit lu'r side, 
 No hunters hand her snood untied. 
 Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 
 The virgin snood did Alice wear; 
 Gone was licr maiden glee and sport, 
 Her maiden girdle all too short. 
 Nor sought she, from tliat fatal night. 
 Or holy church or blessed rite. 
 But locked her secret in her breast, 
 And died in travail, unconfessed. 
 
 Alone, among his young compeers, 
 Was Brian from his infant years; 
 A moody and heart-broken boy, 
 Estranged from sympathy and joy. 
 Bearing each taunt which careless 
 
 tongue 
 On his mysterious lineage flung. 
 Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, 
 To wood and stream his hap to wail. 
 Till, frantic, he as truth received 
 What of his birtli the crowd believed, 
 And sought, in mist and meteor fire. 
 To mpct and know his Pliantom Sire! 
 In vain, to soothe his wayward fate. 
 The cloister oped her pitying gate ; 
 In vain the learning of the age 
 Unclasped the sable-lettered page; 
 Even in its treasures he cculd find 
 Food for the fever of his mind. 
 Eager he read whatever tells 
 Of magic, cabala, and spells. 
 And every dark pursuit allied 
 To curious and presumptuous pride ; 
 Till with fired brain and nerves o'er 
 
 strung. 
 And heart witii mystic horrors wrung. 
 Desperate he sought Benharrow's den. 
 And hid him from the haunts of men. 
 
 vu. 
 The desert gave him visions wild, 
 Such as might suit the spectre's child. 
 Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, 
 He watched the wheeling eddies boil. 
 Till from their foam his dazzled eyes 
 Beheld the River Demon rise : 
 Tlie mountain mist took form and limb 
 Of noontide hag or goblin grim ; 
 The midnight wind came wild and dread, 
 Swelled with the voices of the dead ; 
 Far on the future battle-heath 
 His eye beheld the ranks of death: 
 Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled. 
 Shaped forth a disembodied world. 
 One lingering sympathy of mind 
 Still bound him to the mortal kind ; 
 The only parent he could claim 
 Of ancient Al])ine's lineage came. 
 Late had he heard, in prophet's dream. 
 The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream ; 
 Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast 
 Of charging steeds, careering fast 
 Along Benharrow's shingly side. 
 Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride ; 
 The thunderbolt had split the pine, — 
 All augured ill to Alpine's line. 
 He girt his loins, and came to show 
 The signals of impending woe. 
 And now stood prompt to bless or ban. 
 As bade the Chieftain of his clan. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 'T was all prepared ; — and from the rock 
 A goat, the patriarch of the flock, 
 Before the kindling pile was laid. 
 And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. 
 Patient the sickening victim eyed 
 The life-blood ebb in crimson tide 
 Down his clogged beard and shaggy 
 
 limb. 
 Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 
 The grisly priest, with murmuring 
 
 prayer, 
 
THB LADY OF THB LAKE. 
 
 '^iiSi jr 
 
 A slender crosslct framed with care, 
 A cubit's length in measure due ; 
 Tlie shaft and limbs were rods of 3'cw, 
 Wliose 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 formed lie held on high, 
 With wasted hand and haggard eye, 
 And strange and mingled feelings woke. 
 While his anathema he spoke: — 
 
 rs. 
 
 'Woe to the clansman who shall view 
 This symbol of sepulchral yew. 
 Forgetful that its branches grew 
 Wliore weep the Iieavens their holiest dew 
 
 On Alpine's dwelling low ! 
 Deserter of his Chieftain's trust. 
 He ne'er shall mingle witli their dust, 
 But, from his sires and kindred thrust. 
 Each clansman's execration just 
 
 Shall doom him wrath and woe.' 
 He paused : — the word the vassals took. 
 With forward stej) 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 mustered force. 
 Burst with loud roar their answer hoarse, 
 
 'Woe to the traitor, woe !' 
 Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew, 
 The joyous wolf from covert drew, 
 Tlie exulting eagle screamed afar. — 
 They knew the voice of Alpine's war. 
 
 X. 
 
 The shout was hushed on lake and fell. 
 The Monk resumed his muttered spell : 
 Dismal and low its accents came, 
 Tiie while he scathed the Cross with 
 
 flame; 
 And the few words that reached the air. 
 
 Although the holiest name was there, 
 Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 
 But when he shook above the crowd 
 Its kintiled points, he spoke alouil : — ■ 
 'Woe to the wretch who fails to rear 
 At this dread sign the ready spear! 
 For, as the flames this symbol sear, 
 His home, tiie refuge of his fear, 
 
 A kindred fate shall know ; 
 Far o'er it.s roof the volunscd flame 
 Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, 
 Wliili' maids and matrons on his name 
 Shall call down wretchedness and shame, 
 
 And infamy and woe.' 
 Tlien rose tiie cry of females, shrill 
 As goshawk's whistle on the hill. 
 Denouncing misery and i!l, 
 ^lingled with childhood's babbling trill 
 
 Of curses stammered slow ; 
 Answering with imprecation dread, 
 'Sunk be his home in embers red ! 
 And cursed be the meanest shed 
 That e'er shall hide the houseless head 
 
 We doom to want and woe !' 
 A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
 Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave ! 
 And the gray pass 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 eye.s that glowed like fiery brand. 
 He meditated curse more dread. 
 And deadlier, on the clansman's head 
 Who, summoned to liis chieftain's aid. 
 The signal saw and disobeyed. 
 The crosslet's points of sparkling wood 
 He quenched among the Iiubbling blood. 
 And, as again the sign he reared. 
 Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard : 
 'Wlion flits this Cross from man to man, 
 ^'ich-Alpine's summons to his elan, 
 
THE, GATH BRING 
 
 Burst be the oar that fails to heed ! 
 Palsied the foot that shuns to speed ! 
 May ravens tear tlie careless eyes, 
 Wolves make the coward heart their 
 
 prize ! 
 As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, 
 So may his heart's-blood drench his 
 
 hearth ! 
 As dies in hissing gore the spark. 
 Quench thou his light. Destruction dark ! 
 And be the grace to him denied. 
 Bought by this sign to all beside !' 
 He ceased : no echo gave again 
 The murmur of the deep Amen. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then Roderick with impatient look 
 From Brian's hand the symbol took : 
 'Speed, ;Malise, speed !' he said, and gave 
 The crosslet to his henchman brave. 
 'The muster-place be 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 launched the 
 
 boat. 
 Were all unbroken and afloat. 
 Dancing in foam and ripple still. 
 When it had neared the mainland hill ; 
 And from the silver beach's side 
 Still was the prow three fathom wide, 
 When lightly bounded to the land 
 The messenger of blood and brand. 
 
 xni. 
 
 Speed, ]\Lalise, speed ! the dun deer's hide 
 On fleeter foot was never tied. 
 Speed, ^Malise, speed ! such cause of haste 
 Tliine 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: 
 Parched are thy burning lips and brow, 
 Yet by the fountain pause not now ; 
 Herald of battle, fate, and fear, 
 Stretch onward in thy fleet career ! 
 The wounded hind thou track'st not now, 
 Pursucst not maid through greenwood 
 
 bough, 
 Nor pliest thou now tliy 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, 
 
 L) arms the huts and hamlets rise; 
 
 From winding glen, from upland brown, 
 
 They poured each hardy tenant down. 
 
 Nor slacked the messenger his pace ; 
 
 He showed the sign, he named the place. 
 
 And, pressing forward like the wind. 
 
 Left clamor and surprise behind. 
 
 The fisherman forsook the strand, 
 
 The swai-thy smith took dirk and brand; 
 
 With changed cheer, the mower blithe 
 
 Left in the half-cut swath bis scythe; 
 
 The herds without a keeper strayed, 
 
 The plough was in mid-furrow stayed, 
 
 The falconer to.ssed his hawk away, 
 
 The hunter left the stag at bay ; 
 
 Prompt at the signal of alarms. 
 
 Each son of Alpine rushed to arms ; 
 
 So swept the tumult and affray 
 
 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 ga_yly loud. 
 
 I' ! 
 
 ^ cW'""^ 
 
THB LADY OF TUB LAKB 
 
 .-\ 
 
 ^ 
 
 XV. 
 
 Speed, Malise, speed ! Tlic lake is past, 
 Duncraggan's huts appear at last, 
 And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half 
 
 seen, 
 Half liiddcn in the copse so green ; 
 There mayst thou rest, thv labor done, 
 Their lord shall speed the signal on. — 
 As .stoops tlie hawk upon his prey, 
 Tiie henchman shot him down the way. 
 Wliat woful accents load the gale.' 
 Tlic funeral yell, the female wail ! 
 A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, 
 A valiant warrior fights no more. 
 Who, in the battle or the chase, 
 At Roderick's side shall fill his place ! — 
 Within tlie hall, where torch's ray 
 Suj)plii's the excluded beams of day, 
 Lies Duncan on his lowly bier. 
 And o'er him streams hi.s widow's tear. 
 His stripling son stands ninuriiful by. 
 His youngest weeps, but knows not why: 
 Tlic village maids and matrons round 
 The dismal coronach resound. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 CORONACH. 
 
 He is gone on the mountain, 
 
 He is lo.st to the forest. 
 Like a sunnner-dricd 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 arc hoary. 
 But the voice of the weeper 
 
 Wails manhood in glory. 
 The autumn winds rushing 
 
 Waft the leaves that are searest, 
 But our flower was in flu.shing. 
 
 When blightinff was nearest. 
 
 Fleet foot on the correi. 
 
 Sage coun.sel in cumber, 
 Red hand in the foray. 
 
 How sound is thy slumber ! 
 Like the dew on the mountain. 
 
 Like the foam on the river. 
 Like the bubble on the fountain, 
 
 Tliou art gone, and forever! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 See Stuniah, who, the bier beside, 
 His master's corpse with wonder eyed, 
 Poor StumaJi ! 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 nniffled 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 besmeared with 
 
 blood ; 
 'The muster-place is I^anrick mead : 
 Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, .speed!' 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Angus, the heir of Duncan's line. 
 Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. 
 In haste the stripling to his side 
 His father's dirk and broadsword tied : 
 But when he saw his mother's eye 
 Watch him in speechless agony. 
 Back to her opened arms he flew, 
 Pressed on her lips a fond adieu, — 
 'Alas !' she sobbed, — 'and yet be gone. 
 And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son !' 
 One look he cast upon the bier, 
 Da.shed from his eve the gathering tear. 
 Breathed deep to clear his laboring 
 
 breast. 
 And tossed aloft his bonnet crest. 
 
THE, GATHBRING 
 
 Then, likf the liigh-brcd colt wlicn, freed, 
 First he essays liis fire and speed. 
 He vanislicd, and o'er moor and moss 
 Sped forward with tb.e Fiery Cross. 
 Suspended was the widow's tear 
 Wliile yet liis footsteps slie could hear ; 
 And when she marked the heirchman's eye 
 Wet with unwonted synijiathy, 
 'Kinsman,' she Niid, 'his race is run 
 That should have sped tiiine errand on ; 
 The oak has fallen, — the sapling bough 
 Is all Dmicraggan's shelter now. 
 Yet trust I well, his duty done. 
 The orphan's God will guard my son. — 
 And vou. in many a danger true. 
 At Duncan's hest your blades that drew. 
 To arms, and guard that orphan's head 1 
 Let babes and women wail the dead.' 
 Then weapon-clang and martial call 
 Resounded through the funeral hall. 
 While from the walls the attendant band 
 Snatched sword and targe with hurried 
 
 hand ; 
 And short and flitting energy 
 Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, 
 As if the sounds to warrior dear 
 ]\Iight rouse her Duncan from his bier. 
 But faded soon that borrowed force; 
 Grief claimed his right, and tears their 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Bcnledi saw the Cross of Fire, 
 It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. 
 O'er dale and hill the sunnuons flew. 
 Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew ; 
 The tear that gathered in his eye 
 He left the mountain-breeze to dry; 
 Until, where Tcith's young waters roll 
 Betwixt him and a wooded knoll 
 That graced the sable strath with green, 
 Tb.e chapel of Saint Bride was seen. 
 Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge. 
 But Angus paused not on the edge; 
 
 Though the dark waves danced dizzily, 
 Though reeled his sympathetic eye, 
 He dashed amid the torrent'.s roar: 
 His right hand high the crosslet bore, 
 His left the pole-axe grasped, to o;uide 
 And stay his footing in the tide. 
 He stumbled twice, — the foam splashed 
 
 high. 
 With hoarser swell the stream raced by ; 
 And had he fallen, — forever there, 
 Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir! 
 But still, as if in parting life. 
 Firmer he gra.sped the Cross of strife, 
 T'^ntil the opposing bank he gained. 
 .\nd up the chapel pathway strained. 
 
 A blithesome rout that morning-tide 
 Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. 
 Her troth Tombea's iMary gave 
 To Norman, heir of Armandave, 
 And, is.suing from the Gothic arch. 
 The bridal now resumed their march. 
 In rude but glad procession came 
 Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame; 
 And plaided youth, with jest and jeer. 
 Which snooded maiden would not hear; 
 And children, that, unwitting why, 
 Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ; 
 And minstrels, that in measures vied 
 Before the young and bonny bride. 
 Whose downcast eye and check disclose 
 The tear and blush of morning rose. 
 With virgin .step and bashful hand 
 She held the kerchief's snowy hand. 
 The gallant bridegroom by her side 
 Beheld his ])rize with victor's pride, 
 And the glad mother in her ear 
 Was closely whispering word of cheer. 
 
 Who meets them at the churchyard gate? 
 The messenger of fear and fate ! 
 Haste in his hurried accent lies, 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 
 ^' 'Mm. 
 
 And pfrief is swimming in his eyes. 
 All (Iripj)ing from the recent flood, 
 I';uitin<4' and travel-soiled he stood, 
 'I'he fatal sign of fire and sword 
 Held forth, and spoke the appointed 
 
 word : 
 'The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; 
 Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed !' 
 And must he change so soon the hand 
 Just linked to his b3' holy band, 
 F(n- the fell Cross of blood and brand? 
 And must till' day so blitjie that rose, 
 And promised rapture in the close. 
 Before its setting hour, divide 
 The bridegroom from the plighted l)ride? 
 O fatal doom ! — it must ! it must ! 
 Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's 
 
 trust. 
 Her sununons dread, brook no delay ; 
 Stretch to the race, — ^away ! away! 
 
 Yet slow he laid his plaid aside. 
 And lingering eyctl his lovely bride, 
 Until he saw the starting tear 
 Speak woe he might not stop to cheer; 
 Then, trusting not a second look, 
 In iiaste he sped him up the brook. 
 Nor backward glanced till on the heath 
 Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the 
 
 Teith.— 
 What in the racer's bosom stirred? 
 The sickening pang of hope deferred. 
 And memory with a torturing train 
 Of all his morning visions vain. 
 Mingled with love's impatience, came 
 The manly thirst for martial fame; 
 The storni3' joy of mountaineers 
 Ere yet they rush upon the spears ; 
 And zeal for Clan and Chieftain Imrn- 
 
 And' hope, from- well-fought field rcturn- 
 
 With war's red honors on his crest. 
 
 To clasp liis ;\Iar3' to his breast. 
 
 Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank andl 
 
 brae. 
 Like fire from flint he glanced away. 
 While high resolve and feeling strong 
 Burst into voluntary song. 
 
 XXIII. 
 SOXG. 
 
 The heath this night must be my bed. 
 The bracken curtain for my head, 
 ^ly lullaby the warder's tri'ad. 
 
 Far, far, from love and thee, Mary ; 
 To-ninri-ow eve, more .stillv laid, 
 My couch may be my bloody plaid, 
 iSIy vesper song thy wail, sweet maid ! 
 
 It will not waken- me, IVIarv ! 
 
 I may not, dare not, fancy now 
 
 The grief that clouds thy lovely l)row, 
 
 I dare not think ujion thy vow. 
 
 And all it promised me, Mary. 
 No fond regret must Norman know ; 
 When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe. 
 His heart must be like bended bow, 
 
 His foot like arrow free. Marv. 
 
 A time will come with feeling fraught, 
 For, if I fall in battle fought. 
 Thy hapless lover's dying thought 
 
 Sliall be a thought on tliee, Mary. 
 ^\n(l if returned from enncjuered foes, 
 How blithely will the evening close. 
 How sweet the linnet sing repose. 
 
 To niv vouns bride and me, ]\Iarv! 
 
 Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 
 Balquidder, speeds the niiihiight blaze. 
 Bushing in conflagration strong 
 Thy deep ravines and dells along, 
 Wrapping thy cliffs in ])urple glow. 
 And reddening the dark lakes below; 
 Nor faster speeds it, nor so far. 
 As o'er thv heaths the voice of war. 
 
THE, GATH BRING 
 
 The signal roused to martial coil 
 The sullen margin of Loch Veil, 
 Waked still Loch Doine, and to the 
 
 source 
 Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course; 
 Thence southward turned its rapid road 
 Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, 
 Till rose in arms each man might claim 
 A portion in Clan-Alpine's name. 
 From the gray sire, whose trembling 
 
 hand 
 Could hardly buckle on his brand. 
 To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 
 Were yet scarce terror to the crow. 
 Each valley, each sequestered glen. 
 Mustered its little horde of men. 
 That met as torrents from the height 
 In Highland dales their streams unite. 
 Still gatliering, as they pour along, 
 A voice more loud, a tide more strong, 
 Till at the rendezvous they stood 
 By hundreds prompt for blows and 
 
 blood. 
 Each trained to arms since life began. 
 Owning no tic 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 
 Surveyed the skirts of Benvenue, 
 And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath. 
 To view the frontiers of Mentcith. 
 All backward came with news of tnice : 
 Still lay each martial Gramme and Bmce, 
 In Rednock courts no horsemen wait. 
 No banner waved on Cardross gate. 
 On Duchray's towers no beacon shone. 
 Nor scared the herons from Loch Con ; 
 All seemed at peace. — Now wot ye why 
 The Chieftain with such anxious eye, 
 Ere to the nuister he repair. 
 This western frontier scanned with 
 care ? — 
 
 In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, 
 A fair though cruel pledge was left ; 
 For Douglas, to his promise true, 
 That morning from the isle withdrew, 
 And in a deep sequestered dell 
 Had sought a low and lonely cell. 
 By many a bard in Celtic tongue 
 Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung ; 
 A softer name the Saxons gave. 
 And called the grot the Goblin Cave. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 It was a wild and strange retreat, 
 As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. 
 Tlie dell, upon the mountain's crest, 
 Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast; 
 Its trench had stayed full many a rock, 
 Hurled by jirinicval earthquake shock 
 From Benvenue's gray summit wild. 
 And here, in random ruin piled. 
 They frowned in incumbent o'er the spot, 
 And formed the rugged sylvan grot. 
 The oak and bii'ch with mingled shade 
 At noontide there a twilight made, 
 L'^nless 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 with the lake, 
 A sullen sound would upward break, 
 With dashing hollow voice, that spoke 
 The incessant war of wave and rock. 
 Suspended cliffs with hideous sway 
 Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray. 
 From such a den the wolf had sprung, 
 In such the wild-cat leaves her young; 
 Yet Douglas and bis daughter fair 
 Sought for a space their safety there. 
 Gray Superstition's whisper dread 
 Debarred the spot to vulgar tread : 
 For there, she said, did fays resort. 
 And satyrs hold their sylvan court. 
 
 \. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 By nioonliglit 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 
 Repassed the heights of Benvenue. 
 Above the Goblin Cave they go, 
 Tlirough the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo; 
 The prompt retainers speed before, 
 To launch tiie shallop from the shore, 
 For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way 
 To view the passes of Achray, 
 And place his clansmen in array- 
 Yet lags the Chief in musing mind. 
 Unwonted sight, his men behind. 
 A single page, to bear his sword, 
 Alone attended on his lord ; 
 The rest their way tlir(mj.ili thickets 
 
 break. 
 And soon await him by the lake. 
 It was a fair and gallant sight. 
 To view them from the neighboring 
 
 height, 
 By the low-levelled sunbeam's light ! 
 For strength and stature, from the clan 
 Each warrior was a chosen man. 
 As even afar might well be seen. 
 By their proud step and martial nuVn. 
 Their feathers dance, their tartans float, 
 Their targets gleam, as by the boat 
 A wild and warlike group they stand, 
 Tliat well became such mountain-strand. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Their Chief with step reluctant still 
 Was lingering on the cr/iggy hill, 
 Hard by where turned apart the road 
 To Douglas's obscure abode. 
 It was but with that dawning mom 
 That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn 
 To drown his love in war's wild roar. 
 Nor think of Ellen Douglas more : 
 But he who stems a stream with sand. 
 
 And fetters flame with flaxen band. 
 
 Has yet a harder task to prove, — 
 
 By firm resolve to conquer love ! 
 
 Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, 
 
 Still hovering near his treasure lost; 
 
 For though his haughty heart deny 
 
 A parting meeting to his eye. 
 
 Still fondly strains his anxious ear 
 
 The accents of her voice to hear, 
 
 And inly did he curse the breeze 
 
 That waked to sound tlie rustling trees. 
 
 But hark! what mingles in the strain? 
 
 It is the harp of Allan-bane, 
 
 Tliat wakes its measure .slow and high. 
 
 Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 
 
 What melting voice attends the strings? 
 
 'T is Ellen, or an angel, sings. 
 
 XXIX. 
 HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. 
 
 Ave Maria! maiden mild! 
 
 Listen to a maiden's praver! 
 Thou canst hear though from the wild. 
 
 Thou canst save amid despair. 
 Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, 
 
 Though bani.shed, outcast, and re- 
 viled — 
 Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ; 
 
 Mother, liear a suppliant child ! 
 Ave Maria! 
 
 Ave Maria! undefiled ! 
 
 Tlie flinty couch we now must share 
 Shall seem with down of eider piled. 
 
 If thy protection hover there. 
 The murky cavern's heavv air 
 
 Shall breathe of balm if thou hast 
 smiled ; 
 Then, ]\Iaiden ! hear a maiden's prayer, 
 
 Mother, list a suppliant child ! 
 Ave Maria! 
 
 Are Maria; stainless styled! 
 
 Foul (lemons of the earth and air. 
 From this their wonted haunt exiled, 
 
THE, GATHBRING 
 
 .U4^ 
 
 Shall flee before thy presence fair. 
 Wc i)()\v lis to our lot of care. 
 
 Beneath th}' guidance reconciled: 
 Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, 
 
 And for a father hear a child ! 
 Ave Maria! 
 
 Died on the harp the closing hymn, — 
 Unmoved in attitude and limb. 
 As listening still, Clan-Alpine's lord 
 Stood leaning on his heavy sword. 
 Until the page with humble sign 
 Twice pointed to the sun's decline. 
 Then while his plaid he round him cast, 
 'It is the last time — 't is the last,' 
 He muttered thrice. — 'the last time e'er 
 That angel-voice shall Roderick hear!' 
 It was a goading thought. — hi.s stride 
 Hied hastier down the mountain-side ; 
 Sullen he flung him in the boat. 
 An instant 'cross the lake it shot. 
 They landed in that silvery bay. 
 And eastward held their hasty way, 
 Till, with the latest beams of light. 
 The band arrived on Lanrick height. 
 
 Where mustered in the vale below 
 Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 A various scene the clansmen made : 
 
 Some sat, some stood, some slowly ._ 
 
 strayed ; 
 But most, with mantles folded round, 
 Were couched to rest upon the ground, 
 Scai'ce to be known by curious ev'e 
 From the deep heather where they lie. 
 So well was matched the tartan screen 
 With heath-bell dark and brackens 
 
 green : 
 Unless where, here and there, a blade 
 Or lance's point a glimmer made, 
 Like glow-worm twinkling through the 
 
 shade. 
 But when, advancing through the gloom. 
 They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume, 
 Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide, ; 
 Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 
 Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 
 Three times returned the martial yell ; 
 It died upon Bochastle's plain. 
 And silence claimed her evening reign. 
 
 H V 
 
 
 :V 
 
 ■c? 
 

 POURTH 
 
 THE PROPIIKCY. 
 
 'The rose is fairest when 't is budding 
 new, 
 And liope is brightest when it dawns 
 from fears ; 
 
 ^^' '^'""' ™'*'^ "^ sweetest washed witli morning 
 dew, 
 And love is loveliest when embalmed in 
 tears. 
 
 %rf'^^^!^. O wildmg rose, whom fancy tlms endears, 
 I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave. 
 Emblem of jinpe and love through future 
 years !' 
 Thus spoke young Norman, heir of 
 Armandave, 
 What time the sun arose on Vennachar's 
 broad wave. 
 
 n. 
 
 Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, 
 Love prompted to the bridegroom's 
 tongue. 
 
 Ail wiiile he stripped the wild-rose spray, 
 
 His axe and bow beside him lay, 
 
 For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood 
 
 A wakeful sentinel he stood. 
 
 Hark ! — on the rock a footstcj) rung, — 
 
 And instant to his arms he sprung. 
 
 'Stand, or thou diest ! — What, Malise? — 
 
 soon 
 Art thou returned from Braes of Doune. 
 By tliy keen step and glance I know, 
 Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe.' — 
 For while the Fiery Cross hied on, 
 On distant scout had Malise gone. — 
 'Where sleeps the Chief.?' the henchman 
 
 said. 
 'Apart, in yonder misty glade; 
 To his lone couch I'll be your guide.' — 
 Then called a .slumbcrer by his side, 
 And stirred him with his slackened 
 
 bow, — 
 'Up, up, Glcntarkin ! rouse thee, ho ! 
 We seek the Cln"cftain ; on the track 
 Keep eagle watch till I come back.' 
 
THE. PROPHRCV 
 
 Together up the pass they sped : 
 'What of the foeman?" Norman said. — 
 'Varyinw reports from near and far; 
 This certain, — that a band of war 
 Has for two days been ready bounc, 
 At prompt command to march froni 
 
 Doune ; 
 King James the while, with princely 
 
 powers, 
 Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 
 Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 
 Speak on our glens in thunder loud. 
 Inured to bide such bitter bout, 
 Tlie warrior's plaid may bear it out ; 
 But, Norman, how wilt thou provide 
 A shelter for thy bonny bride?' — 
 'What ! know ye not that Roderick's care 
 To the lone isle hath caused repair 
 Each maid and matron of the clan, 
 And every child and aged man 
 Unfit for arms ; and given his charge. 
 Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge. 
 Upon these lakes shall float at large, 
 But all beside the islet moor, 
 That such dear pledge may rest se- 
 cure .'" — 
 
 IV. 
 
 ' 'T is well advised, — the Chieftain's plan 
 Bespeaks the father of his clan. 
 But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu 
 Apart from all his followers true.'" 
 'It is because last evening-tide 
 Brian an augury hath tried. 
 Of that dread kind which must not be 
 Unless in dread extremity. 
 The Taghainn called ; by which, afar. 
 Our sires foresaw the events of war. 
 Duncraggan's milk-white bull they 
 slew,' — 
 
 MALISE. 
 
 'Ah ! well the gallant brute I knew ! 
 The choicest of the prey we had 
 
 When swept our morrymen Gallangad 
 Hi.s hide was snow, his horns were dark, 
 His red eye glowed like iiery spark ; 
 So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet. 
 Sore did he cumber our retreat, 
 And kept our stoutest kerns in awe, 
 Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. 
 But steep and flinty was the road. 
 And sharp the hurrying pikcman's goad. 
 And when we came to Dcnnan's Row 
 A child might scathless stroke his brow.' 
 
 NORMAN. 
 
 'That bull was slain ; his reeking hide 
 They stretched the cataract beside. 
 Whose waters their wild tumult toss 
 Adown the black and craggy boss 
 Of that huge cliflT whose ample verge 
 Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. 
 Couched on a shelf beneath its brink, 
 Close where the thundering torrents sink, 
 Rocking beneath their headlong sway, 
 And drizzled by the ccaseles.s spray, 
 Midst groan of rock and roar of stream. 
 The wizard waits prophetic dream. 
 Nor distant rests the Chief ; — but hush ! 
 See, gliding slow through mist and bush. 
 The hermit gains yon rock, and stands 
 To gaze upon our slumbering bands. 
 Seem.s he not, Malise, like a ghost, 
 That hovers o'er a slaughtered host? 
 Or raven on the blasted oak, 
 That, watching while the deer is broke, 
 His morsel claims with sullen croak.?' 
 
 MALISE. 
 
 'Peace ! peace ! to other than to me 
 
 Thy words were evil augury ; 
 
 But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade 
 
 Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid, 
 
 Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or 
 
 hell. 
 Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell. 
 
 
THB LADY OF THB LAKB 
 
 The C'liicftain join.s him, sec — and now 
 Toiicther thev (iesccnd the brow.' 
 
 And, as they came, with Alpine's I.nril 
 The Hermit Monk held solemn word: — 
 'Roderick ! it is a fearful strife, 
 For man endowed with mortal life. 
 Whose shroud of sentient clay can .still 
 Feel feverish pang and fainting chill, 
 Whose eye can stare in stony trance. 
 Whose hair can rouse like warrior's 
 
 lance, — 
 'T is hard for such to view, imfurled. 
 The curtain of the future world. 
 Yet, witness every quakino' linih. 
 My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim, 
 IMy soul witii harrowing anguish torn, 
 Tliis for my Chieftain liave I borne ! — 
 The sliapcs that sought my fearful couch 
 A human tongue may ne'er avouch : 
 No mortal man — save he, who, bred 
 Between the living and the dead, 
 Is gifted beyond nature's law — 
 Had e'er survived to say he saw. 
 At length the fateful answer came 
 In characters of living flame ! 
 Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, 
 But borne and branded on my soul : — 
 Which spills the foremost foeman's 
 
 LIFE, 
 Th.\T P.MITV COXatTERS IX THE STRIFE. 
 
 VII. 
 
 'Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care! 
 
 Good is thine augury, and fair. 
 
 C'lan-Alpinc ne'er in battle stood 
 
 But first our broadswords tasted blood. 
 
 A surer victim still I know, 
 
 Self-offered to the auspicious blow : 
 
 A spy has sought my land this morn, — • 
 
 No eve sliall witness his return ! 
 
 IMy followers guard each pa.ss's mouth, 
 
 To east, to westward, and to south ; 
 
 Red Murdoch, hribtd to be his guide. 
 Has charge to lead his steps aside, 
 Till in deep path or dingle brown 
 He light on those shall bring him 
 
 down. — 
 But see, who comes his news to show ! 
 Malise ! what tidings of the foe?' 
 
 'At Doune. o'er many a spear and glaive 
 
 Two Barons proud their banners wave. 
 
 I saw the ^Moray's silver star, 
 
 ^\nd marked tl:e sable pale of Mar.' 
 
 'By Alpine's soul, high tidings those! 
 
 I love to hear of worthy foes. 
 
 When move they on ?' 'To-morrow's 
 
 noon 
 Will see them here for battle boune.' 
 'Then shall it see a meeting .stern ! 
 But, for the place, — say, couldst thou 
 
 learn 
 Nought of the friendly clans of Earn? 
 Strengthened by them, we well might 
 
 bide 
 The battle on Benledi's side. 
 Thou couldst not? — well! Clan-Alpine's 
 
 men 
 Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen ; 
 Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight. 
 All in our maids' and matrons' sight, 
 Each for his hearth and household fire, 
 Fatlicr for child, and son for sire, 
 Lover for maid beloved ! — But why — 
 Is it the breeze affects mine cvf ? 
 Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear! 
 A messenger of doubt or fear? 
 No ! sooner may the Saxon lance 
 T^nfix Bcnledi from his stance. 
 Than doubt or terror can pierce through 
 The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu ! 
 'T is stubborn as his trusty targe. 
 Each to his post ! — all know their 
 
 charge.' 
 The pibroch sounds, the bands advance, 
 
THE. PROPHBCY 
 
 The broadswords gleam, the banners 
 
 dance, 
 Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. — 
 I turn nie from the martial roar, 
 And seek Coir-Uriskiii once more. 
 
 i\. 
 
 Where is the Douglas? — he is gone; 
 And Ellen sits on the gray stone 
 Fast by the cave, and makes her moan, 
 While vainly Allan's words of cheer 
 Are poured on her unheeding ear. 
 He will return — dear lady, trust! — 
 With joy return; — he will — lie must 
 Well was it time to seek afar 
 Some refuge from impending war. 
 When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm 
 Are cowed by the approaching storm. 
 I saw their boats with many a light. 
 Floating the livelong yesternight, 
 Shifting like flashes darted forth 
 By the red streamers of the north ; 
 I marked at morn how close they ride. 
 Thick moored by the lone islet's side, 
 Like wild ducks couching in the fen 
 When stoops the hawk upon the glen. 
 Since this rude race dare not abide 
 The peril on the mainland side. 
 Shall not thy noble father's care 
 Some safe retreat for thee prepare?' 
 
 ELLEN. 
 
 'No, Allan, no ! Pretext so kind 
 My wakeful terrors could not blind. 
 When in such tender tone, yet grave, 
 Douglas a parting blessing gave. 
 The tear that glistened in his eye 
 Drowned not iiis purpose fixed and high. 
 My soul, though feminine and weak, 
 Can image his ; e'en as tlic lake, 
 Itself disturbed by slightest stroke, 
 Reflects the invulnerable rock. 
 He iiears report of l)attU' rife. 
 He deems himself tiie cau.se of strife. 
 
 I saw him redden when the theme 
 Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream 
 Of Malcolm Gramme in fetters bound. 
 Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. 
 Tliiiik'st thou he trowed thine omen 
 
 aught ? 
 () no I 't was ajiprehensive thought 
 For tlie kind youth, — for Roderick too — 
 Let me be just — that friend so true; 
 In danger both, and in our cause ! 
 :\Iinstrel, tlie Douglas dare not pause. 
 Why else that solemn warning given, 
 'If not on earth, we meet in heaven !" 
 Why else, to Cambus-kennetli's fane, 
 If eve return him not again. 
 Am I to hie and make me known ? 
 Alas ! lie goes to Scotland's throne. 
 Buys his friends' safety witli liis own ; 
 He goes to do — what I had done. 
 Had Douglas' daughter been his son !' 
 
 XI. 
 
 'Nay, lovely Ellen ! — dearest, nay ! 
 If aught should his return delay. 
 He only named yon holy fane 
 As fitting place to meet again. 
 Be .sure he's safe ; and for the Gr.-pme, — 
 Heaven's blessing on his gallant name ! — 
 I\Iy visioneil sight may yet prove true, 
 Nor bode of ill to him or you. 
 When did my gifted dream beguile? 
 Think of the stranger at the isle. 
 And think upon the harpings slow 
 That presaged this approaching woe ! 
 
 Sooth was my prophecy of fear ; 
 
 Believe it wlien it augurs cheer. 
 
 Would we had left this dismal spot ! 
 
 Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot. 
 
 Of such a wondrous tale I know — 
 
 Dear lady, change that look of woe. 
 
 My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.' 
 
 ELLEN. 
 
 'Well, be it as thou wilt ; I hear. 
 But cannot stop the bursting tear.' 
 
■ V ^ 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 The ]\Iinstrel tried his .simple art, 
 But distant far was Ellen's heart. 
 
 XII. 
 
 BALLAD. 
 ALICE BRAND. 
 
 Merry it is in the gooil greenwood, 
 
 When the mavis and niurle are singing, 
 
 When the deer sweeps by, and tlie 
 hounds are in cry, 
 And the hunter's horn is ringing. 
 
 'O Alice Brand, my native land 
 
 Is lost for love of you ; 
 And we must hold by wood and wold, 
 
 As outlaws wont to do. 
 
 'O Alice, 't was all for thy locks so 
 bright, 
 
 And 't was all for thine eyes so blue. 
 That on the night of our luckless flight 
 
 Thy Ijrother hold I slew. 
 
 'Now must I teach to hew the beech 
 The hand that held the glaive, 
 
 T'or leaves to s])read our lowly bed. 
 And stakes to fence our cave. 
 
 'And for vest of pall, thy fingers small. 
 That wont on harp to straj', 
 
 A cloak niu.st sliear from the slaughtered 
 deer, 
 To keep the cold away.' 
 
 'O Richard ! if my brother died, 
 
 'T was but a fatal chance: 
 For darkling was the battle tried. 
 
 And fortune sjjed the lance. 
 
 'If pall and vair no more I wear. 
 
 Nor thou the crimson sheen. 
 As warm, we'll sa}', is the russet gray. 
 
 As gay the forest-green. 
 
 'And, Richard, if our lot be hard. 
 
 And lost thy native land. 
 Still Alice has her own Richard, 
 
 And he his Alice Brand.' 
 
 xni. 
 
 BALLAD CONTINUED. 
 
 'T is merry, 't is mcn-y, in good green- 
 wood ; 
 So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; 
 On the beech's pride, and oak's brown 
 side. 
 Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 
 
 LTp spoke the moody Elfin King, 
 Who woncd within the hill, — 
 
 Like wind in the porch of a rained 
 church. 
 His voice was ghostly shrill. 
 
 'Why sounds yon stroke on beech and 
 oak. 
 
 Our moonlight circle's screen? 
 Or who comes here to chase the deer, 
 
 Beloved of our Elfin Queen.'' 
 Or who may dare on wold to wear 
 
 The fairies' fatal green.'' 
 
 'Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie. 
 For thou wert christened man ; 
 
 For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, 
 For muttered word or l)an. 
 
 'Lay on him the curse of the withered 
 heart. 
 The curse of the sleepless eye; 
 Till he wish and pray that his life would 
 part. 
 Nor yet find leave to die.' 
 
 BALLAD CONTINUED. 
 
 'T is mcrrj', 't is merry, in good green- 
 wood. 
 
THR PROPHBCY 
 
 Though tlie birds liave stilled their 
 singing; 
 The evening blaze doth Alice raise, 
 And Richard is fagots bringing. 
 
 Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, 
 
 Before Lord Richard stands. 
 And, as he crossed and blessed liimself, 
 'I fear not sign,' quoth the grisly elf, 
 'Tliat is made with bloody hands.' 
 
 But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 
 That woman void of fear, — 
 
 'And if there's blood upon his hand, 
 'T is but the blood of doer.' 
 
 'Now loud thou lic.st, thou bold of mood ! 
 
 It cleaves unto his hand, 
 The stain of thine own kindly blood, 
 
 The blood of Ethert Brand.' 
 
 Tiien forward stepped slic, Alice Brand, 
 
 And made the holy sign, — 
 'And if there's blood on Richard's hand, 
 
 A spotless hand is mine. 
 
 'And I conjure thee, demon elf, 
 
 By Him whom demons fear, 
 To show us whence thou art thyself. 
 
 And what thine errand here.'" 
 
 XV. 
 
 BALLAD CONTINUED. 
 
 ' 'T is merry, 't is merry, in Fairy-land, 
 When fairy birds are singing. 
 
 When the court doth ride by tlicir mon- 
 arch's side, 
 With bit and bridle ringing: 
 
 'And gayly shines the Fairy-land — 
 
 But all is glistening show, 
 Like the idle gleam that December's 
 beam 
 
 Can dart on ice and snow. 
 
 'And fading, like that varied gleam. 
 
 Is our inconstant shape. 
 Who now like knight and lady seem. 
 
 And now like dwarf and ape. 
 
 'It was between the night and day, 
 
 When the Fairy King has power. 
 That I sunk down in a sinful fray. 
 And 'twixt life and death was snatched 
 away 
 To the joyless Elfin bower. 
 
 'But wist I of a woman bold. 
 
 Who thrice my brow durst sign, 
 
 I might regain my mortal mould. 
 As fair a form as thine.' 
 
 She crossed him once — she crossed him 
 twice — 
 
 That lady was so brave ; 
 The fouler grew hi.s goblin hue. 
 
 The darker grew the cave. 
 
 She crossed him thrice, that lady bold; 
 
 He rose beneath her hand 
 The fairest knight on Scottish mould. 
 
 Her brother, Ethert Brand ! 
 
 IMerry it is in good greenwood. 
 
 When the mavis and merle are singing, 
 
 But mcrriir were tliey in Dunfermline 
 gray. 
 When all tlie bells were ringing. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed, 
 A stranger climbed the steepy glade; 
 His martial step, his stately mien. 
 His hunting-suit of Lincoln green. 
 His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 
 'T is Snowdoun's Knight, 't is James 
 
 Fitz-James. 
 Ellen beheld as in a dream. 
 Then, starting, scarce suppressed a 
 
 scream : 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 HCM«C 
 
 'O stranger ! in such hour of fear 
 
 What evil hap has brought thee here ?' 
 
 ■An evil hap how can it be 
 
 That bids me look again on thee? 
 
 By promise bound, my former guide 
 
 Met me betimes this morning-tide. 
 
 And marshalled over bank and bourne 
 
 The happy patii of my return.' 
 
 'The happy path ! — what ! said he 
 
 naught 
 Of war, of battle to be fought, 
 Of guarded jjass?' 'No, by my faith! 
 Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.' 
 'O haste thee, Allan, to the kern : 
 Yonder his tartans I discern ; 
 Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 
 That I'.c will guido tlie str;inger sure! — • 
 What [ironipted thee, unha])|)y man? 
 Tile meanest serf in Roderick's clan 
 Had not been bribed, by love or fear, 
 Unknown to him to guide thee here.' 
 
 'Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, 
 Since it is worthy care from thee; 
 Yet life I hold but idle breath 
 When love or iionor's weighed with death. 
 Then let nie profit by my chance. 
 And speak my purpose bold at once. 
 I come to bear thee from a wiki 
 Where ne'er before .such blossom smiled. 
 By this soft hand to lead thee far 
 From frantic scenes of feud and war. 
 Near Bochastie my horses wait ; 
 They bear us soon to Stirling gate. 
 I'll place thee in a lovely bower, 
 I'll guard thee like a tender flower — ' 
 '() iuish, Sir Knight ! 't were female art. 
 To say I do not read thy heart ; 
 Too much, before, my selfish ear 
 Was idly soothed my praise to hear. 
 That fatal bait hath lured thee back. 
 In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track ; 
 And how, O how, can I atone 
 
 The wreck my vanity brought on ! — 
 One way remains — I'll tell him all — 
 Yes ! struggling bosom, forth it shall ! 
 Thou, whose light folly bears the blame. 
 Buy thine own pardon with thy shame! 
 But first — my father is a man 
 Outlawed and exiled, under ban ; 
 The price of blood is on his head, 
 With me 't were infamy to wed. 
 Still wouldst thou speak? — then hear 
 
 the truth ! 
 Fitz-James, there is a noble youth — 
 If 3'et he is ! — exposed for me 
 And mine to dread extremity — 
 Thou hast the secret of my heart ; 
 Forgive, be generous, and depart !' 
 
 Fitz-James knew every wily train 
 A lady'.s fickle heart to gain. 
 But here he knew and felt them vain. 
 There shot no glance from Ellen's eye. 
 To give her steadfast speech the lie; 
 In maiden confidence she stood. 
 Though mantled in her check the blood. 
 And told her love with such a sic:h 
 
 o 
 
 Of deep and hopeless agony. 
 
 As death had sealed her ^lalcolm's doom 
 
 x\nd she sat sorrowing on his tomb. 
 
 Hope vani.shed from Fitz-James's eye. 
 
 But not with hope fled sympathj'. 
 
 He profl^crcd to attend her side. 
 
 As brother would a sister guide. 
 
 'O little know'st thou Roderick's heart! 
 
 Safer for both we go apart. 
 
 O haste thee, and from Allan learn 
 
 If thou mayst trust yon wily kern.' 
 
 With hand ujion his forehead laid. 
 
 The conflict of his mind to shade, 
 
 A parting step or two he made ; 
 
 Then, as some thought had crossed his 
 
 brain. 
 He paused, and turned, and came again. 
 
\ 
 
 !./■ 
 
THB PROPHBCY 
 
 ■r'-a) 
 
 'Hoar, lady, yet a partiny word! — 
 It chanced in fight tliat niv jxior sword 
 Preserved the Ht'e of Scotland's lord. 
 This ring the grateful ^lonarch gave, 
 And bade, when I had boon to crave. 
 To bring it iiack, and boldly claim 
 The recompense that I would name. 
 Ellen, I am no courtly lord, 
 But one who lives by lance and sword, 
 Whose castle is his helm and shield. 
 His lordship the embattled field. 
 What from a prince can I demand. 
 Who neither reck of state nor land.' 
 Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ; 
 Each guard and usher knows the sign. 
 Seek thou the King without delay ; 
 This signet shall secure thy way : 
 And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, 
 As ransom of his pledge to me.' 
 He placed the golden circlet on, 
 Paused — kissed her hand — and then was 
 
 gone. 
 Tlie aged Minstrel stood aghast, 
 So hastily Fitz-James shot past. 
 He joined his guide, and wending down 
 The ridges of the mountain brown, 
 Aci-oss the stream they took their way 
 That joins Loch Katrine to Achray. 
 
 XX. 
 
 All in the Trosachs' glen was still, 
 Noontide was sleeping on the hill : 
 Sudden his guide whooped loud and 
 
 Murdoch, move first — but silently ; 
 Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die 1' 
 Jealous and sullen on they fared, 
 Each silent, each upon his guard. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Now wound the jiath its dizzy ledge 
 Around a preci})ice's edge. 
 When lo ! a wasted female fonn. 
 Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, 
 In tattered weeds and wild arra^', 
 Stood on a cliff beside the way. 
 And glancing, round her restless eye. 
 Upon the wood, the rock, the sky. 
 Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy. 
 Her brow was wreathed with gaudy 
 
 broom ; 
 With gesture wild she waved a plume 
 Of feathers, which the eagles fling 
 To crag and cliff" from dusky wing; 
 Such spoils her desperate step had 
 
 sought. 
 Where scarce was footing for the goat. 
 The tartan plaid she first descried. 
 And shrieked till all the rocks replied; 
 As loud she laughed when near they drew, 
 For tlien the Lowland garb slie knew ; 
 And then her bands she wildly wrung. 
 And then she wept, and then she sung — ■ 
 She sung ! — the voice, in better time. 
 Perchance to harp or lute might chime; 
 And now, though strained and rough- 
 ened, still 
 Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. 
 
 'Murdoch ! was that a signal cry.'' — 
 He stanmiercd forth, 'I shout to scare 
 Yon raven from his dainty fare.' 
 He looked — he knew the raven's prey. 
 His own brave steed : 'Ah ! gallant 
 
 gray ! 
 For thee — for me, perchance — 't were 
 
 well 
 We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. — 
 
 XXII. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 They bid me sleep, they bid me pray. 
 They say mj' brain is warped and 
 wrung — 
 
 I cannot sleep on Highland brae, 
 I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 
 
 But were I now where Allan glides, 
 
 Or heard mv native Devan's tides. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 So sweetly- would I rest, and pray 
 That Huavcn would close my wintry 
 day! 
 
 'T was thus my liair they bade me braid, 
 They made me to the church repair; 
 
 It was my bridal morn they said, 
 
 And my true love would meet nie there. 
 
 But woe betide the cruel guile 
 
 That drowned in blood the mornintr 
 smile ! 
 
 And woe betide the fairy dream! 
 
 T only waked to sob and scream. 
 
 xxni. 
 
 'Who is this maid.' what means her lay.? 
 She hovers o'er the hollow way, 
 And flutters wide her mantle gray, 
 As the lone heron spreads iiis wing, 
 By twilight, o'er a haunted spring.' 
 ' 'T is Blanche of Devan.' .Murdoch said, 
 A crazed and captive Lowhuid maid, 
 Ta'cn on the morn she wa.s a bride, 
 When Roderick forayed Devan-side. 
 The gay bridegroom resistance made, 
 And felt our Chief's unconquered blade. 
 I marvel she is now at large, 
 But oft she 'scapes from :\rau(llin's 
 
 charge. — 
 Hence, brain-sick fool !' — He raised liis 
 
 bow : — 
 'Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow, 
 I'll pitch thee from tlie cliff as far 
 As ever peasant pitched a bar !' 
 'Thanks, champion, thanks!' the Maniac 
 
 cried. 
 And pressed her to Fitz-James's side. 
 'See the gray pennons I jireparc. 
 To seek my true love tlu-ough the air! 
 I will not lend that savage groom. 
 To break his fall, one downy plume! 
 No! — deep amid disjointed stones. 
 The wolves shall batten on hi.s bones. 
 And then shall his detested plaid. 
 
 By bush and brier in mid-air stayed, 
 Wave forth a banner fair and free, 
 Meet signal for their revelry.' 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 'Husli thee, poor maiden, and be still!' 
 'O ! thou look'st kindly, and I will. 
 ^line eye has dried and wasted been, 
 But still it loves tlie Lincoln green ; 
 And, though mine car is all unstrung, 
 Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 
 
 'For O my sweet William was forester 
 true. 
 He stole poor Blanche's iieart away ! 
 His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, 
 And so blithely he trilled the Lowland 
 lay ! 
 
 'It was not that I meant to tell . . . 
 But thou art wise and guessest well.' 
 Then, in a low and broken tone. 
 And hurried note, the song went on. 
 Still on the Clansman fearfully 
 She fixed her apprehensive eye. 
 Then turned it on the Knight, and then 
 Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. 
 
 'The toils are pitched, and the stakes are 
 
 set, — 
 
 Ever sing merrily, merrily : 
 The bows they bend, and the knives they 
 whet. 
 
 Hunters live so cheerily. 
 
 'It was a stag, a stag of ten. 
 Bearing its branches sturdily ; 
 
 He came stately down the glen, — 
 Ever sing hardily, hardily. 
 
 'It was there he met with a wounded doc. 
 She was bleeding deathfullv; 
 
THB PROPHBCY 
 
 She warned liiin of tlic toils below, 
 O, so faithfully, faithfully! 
 
 'He had an eye, and he could heed, — 
 Ever sing' warily, warilv ; 
 
 He had a foot, and he could speed, — 
 Hunters watch so narrowly.' 
 
 Fitz-Janies's mind was passion-tossed, 
 When Ellen's hints and fears were lost ; 
 But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, 
 And Blanche's song conviction brought. 
 Not like a stag that spies the snare, 
 But lion of the hunt aware. 
 He waved at once his 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 thrilled in Blanche's faded breast. — 
 Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed. 
 For ne'er had Alpine's son such need ; 
 With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 
 The fierce avenger is behind ! 
 Fate judges of the rapid strife — 
 The forfeit death — the prize is life; 
 Thy kindred ambush lies before, 
 Close couched upon the heathery moor; 
 Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not 
 
 be— 
 Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see. 
 The fiery Saxon gains on thee ! — 
 Resistless speeds the deadly thiiist. 
 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 fallen with falcon eye, 
 He grimly smiled to see him die, 
 Then slower wended back his way, 
 Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 
 
 xxvn. 
 She sat beneath the birchen tree. 
 
 Her elbow resting on her knee; 
 She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, 
 And gazed on it, and feebly laughed ; 
 Her wreath of broom and feathers gray. 
 Daggled with blood, beside her lay. 
 The Knight to stanch the life-stream 
 
 tried, — 
 'Stranger, it is in vain I' she cried. 
 'This hour of death has given me more 
 Of reason's power than years before ; 
 For, as these ebbing veins decay, 
 ^ly frenzied visions fade away. 
 A helpless injured wretch I die. 
 And something tells me in thine eye 
 That thou wcrt mine avenger born. 
 Scest thou this tress? — O, still I've worn 
 This little tress of yellow hair. 
 Through danger, frenzy, and despair ! 
 It once was bright and clear as thine. 
 But blood and tears have dimmed its 
 
 shine. 
 I will not tell thee when 't was shred, 
 Nor from what guiltless victim's head, — 
 My brain would turn ! — but it shall wave 
 Like plumage on thy helmet brave. 
 Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain. 
 And thou wilt bring it me again. 
 I waver still. — God ! more bright 
 Let reason beam her parting light ! — 
 O, by thy knighthood's honored sign. 
 And for thy life preserved by mine. 
 When thou shalt see a darksome man. 
 Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan, 
 With tartans broad and shadowy plume. 
 And hand of blood, and brow of gloom. 
 Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong. 
 And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's 
 
 wro7ig ! — 
 They watch for thee by pass and fell . . . 
 Avoid the path . . . O God I . . . farewell.' 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James ; 
 Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims; 
 
 A 
 
 r^' 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 And now, with mingled grief and ire, 
 He saw the murdered maid expire. 
 'God. in my need, be my relief, 
 As I wreak thi.s on yonder Chief!' 
 A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 
 He blended with her bridegroom's hair; 
 The mingled braid in blood he dyed, 
 And placed it on his bonnet-side: 
 'Bv Him whose word is truth, I swear. 
 No other favor will I wear, 
 Till this sad token I imbrue 
 In the best blood of Roderick Dhu ! — 
 But iiark ! what means yon faint halloo? 
 The chase is up, — but they shall know, 
 The stag at bay's a dangerous foe.' 
 Barred from the known but guarded way, 
 Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James 
 
 nnist stray, 
 And oft must change his desperate track. 
 By stream and precipice turned back. 
 Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at lengtli, 
 From lack of food and loss of strength. 
 He couched 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 guessed 
 That all this Highland hornet's nest 
 Would muster up in swarms so soon 
 As e'er thev heard of bands at Doune.' — 
 I>ike bloodhoinids 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 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 sunnncr solstice there 
 Tempered the midnight mountain air. 
 But every breeze that swept the wold 
 Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. 
 In dread, in danger, and alone. 
 Famished and chilled, through ways un- 
 known. 
 Tangled and steep, he journeyed on ; 
 Till, as a rock's huge point he tunicd, 
 A watch-fire close before him burned. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Beside its embers red and clear. 
 Basked in his plaid a mountaineer; 
 And up he sjirung witli sword in hand, — • 
 'Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand !' 
 'A stranger.' 'What dost thou require?' 
 'Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 
 IMy life's beset, my path is lost. 
 The gale ha.s chilled my limbs with frost.' 
 'Art thou a friend to Roderick?' 'No.' 
 'Thou dar'st not call thyself a foe?' 
 'I dare ! to him and all the band 
 He brings to aid his nuirderous hand.' 
 'Bold words ! — but, though the beast of 
 
 game 
 The privilege of chase may claim. 
 Though space and law the stag we lend, 
 Ere hound we slip or bow we bend. 
 Who ever recked, where, how, or when. 
 The prowling fox was trapped or slain? 
 Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they 
 
 lie. 
 Who say thou cani'st a secret spy !' — 
 'They do, by heaven ! — come Roderick 
 
 Dhu, 
 And of his clan the boldest two. 
 And let me but till morning rest. 
 
THB PROPHBCY 
 
 I write the falseliood on their crest.' 
 
 'If by the blaze I mark ariglit, 
 
 Thou bear'st the belt and spur of 
 
 Knight.' 
 'Then by these tokens niayst thou know 
 Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.' 
 'Enou<>h, enough : sit down and share 
 A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.' 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 He gave him of his Highland cheer, 
 The liardened flesh of mountain deer; 
 Dry fuel on the fire he laid, 
 And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 
 He tended him like welcome guest, 
 Then thus his further speech ad- 
 dressed : — 
 '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 niv 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, 
 jVnd 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 ; 
 ^lysclf will guide thee on the way. 
 O'er stock and stone, through watch and 
 
 ward, 
 Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 
 As far as Coilantogle's ford ; 
 From thence thy warrant is thy sword.' 
 'I take thy courtesy, by heaven. 
 As freely as 't is nobly given !' 
 'Well, rest thee ; for the bittern's cry 
 Sings us the lake's wild lullaby.' 
 With that he shook the gathered licath, 
 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. 
 
J^t^ 
 
 CANTO FIFTH 
 
 TIIK COMIIAT. 
 
 Fair as tlie earliest beam of eastern light, 
 Wlii'ii (ir.st, Iiy tlie bewildered pilgrim 
 spied. 
 It smiles upon tlie dreary brow of night, 
 And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming 
 tide. 
 And lights the fearful ])atli on mountain- 
 side, — 
 Fair as that beam, althougli tlie fairest 
 far, 
 Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, 
 Slu'ne martial Faith, and Courtesy's 
 bright star, 
 Through all the wreckful storms that 
 cloud the brow of War. 
 
 That earlv beam, so fair and sheen. 
 Was twinkling through the hazel screen, 
 
 When, rousing at its glimmer red, 
 The warriors left their lowly bed, 
 Looked out upon the dappled sky, 
 Muttered their soldier matins by, 
 And tlicn awaked their fire, to steal, 
 As short anil rude, their soldier meal. 
 Tliat o'er, the Gael around liim threw 
 His graceful plaid of varied hue. 
 And, true to promise, led the wa}'. 
 By tliicket green and mountain gray. 
 A wildering path! — they winded now 
 Along the precipice's brow, 
 Connnanding tiic ricli semes beneath, 
 Tiie windings of tlie Fortii and Teith, 
 And all the vales between that lie, 
 Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky ; 
 Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance 
 Gained not the Icngtli of horseman's 
 
 lance. 
 'T was oft so steep, the foot was fain 
 
THR COMBAT 
 
 Assistance from the hand to gain ; 
 
 So tangled oft that, bursting through, 
 
 Eacii iiawthorn siied her showers of 
 
 dew, — 
 That diamond dew, so pure and clear. 
 It rivals all hut Beauty's tear ! 
 
 At length they came where, stern and 
 
 steep. 
 The hill sinks down upon the deep. 
 Here Vennachar in silver flows, 
 There, ridge on ridge, Benlcdi rose ; 
 Ever the hollow path twined on. 
 Beneath steep bank and threatening 
 
 stone ; 
 A hundred men might hold the post 
 With hardihood against a host. 
 The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 
 Was dwarfish shrub.s of birch and oak. 
 With shingles bai-e, and cliffs between. 
 And patches bright of bracken green. 
 And heather black, that waved so high. 
 It held the copse in rivalry. 
 But where the lake slept deep and still. 
 Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill ; 
 And oft both path and hill were torn, 
 Where wintry torrent down had borne, 
 And heaped upon the cumbered land 
 Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 
 So toilsome was the road to trace, 
 The guide, abating of his pace, 
 Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 
 And asked Fitz-James by what strange 
 
 cause 
 He sought these wilds, traversed by few, 
 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. 
 
 Bewildered in pursuit of game. 
 All seemed as peaceful and as still 
 As the mist slumbering on yon hill ; 
 Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, 
 Nor soon expected back from war. 
 Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide. 
 Though deep perchance the villain lied.' 
 'Yet why a second venture try.^" 
 'A warrior thou, and ask me why ! — 
 Moves our free course by such fixed 
 
 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 strayed. 
 The merry glance of mountain maid ; 
 Or, if a path be dangerous known, 
 The danger's self is lure alone.' 
 
 'Thy secret keep, I urge thee not ; — 
 Yet, ere again ye sought this spot. 
 Say, heard ye naught of Lowland war. 
 Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar.*" 
 'No, by my word ; — of bands prepared 
 To guard King James's sports I heard; 
 Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear 
 This muster of the mountaineer. 
 Their pennons will abroad be fliuig. 
 Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.' 
 'Free be they flung ! for we were loath 
 Their silken folds should feast the moth. 
 Free be they flung ! — as free shall wave 
 Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave. 
 But, stranger, peaceful since you came. 
 Bewildered in the mountain-game. 
 Whence the bold boast by which you 
 
 show 
 Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?' 
 'Warrior, but yester-morn I knew 
 Naught of thv Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 
 
 ■ ■■■*,'«• .'■■. ^ ■ ■ ■■■■<"■ 
 
 >^ ^u[ 
 
 
 <'?'..' 
 
 
 
 #■ 
 
 \'^- 
 
 
THB LADY OF THB LAKE 
 
 Save as an outlawed desperate man, 
 The chief of a rebellious clan, 
 Who. in tlie Regent's court and sight. 
 With rufHan dagger stal)l)cd a kniglit ; 
 Yet this alone might from his part 
 Sever each true and loyal heart.' 
 
 VI. » 
 
 Wrathful at such arraignment foul, 
 Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl. 
 A space he paused, then sternly said, 
 'And hcardst tliou why lie (h-ew his blade? 
 Hcardst thou that shameful word and 
 
 blow 
 Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe.' 
 AVhat recked the Chieftain if he stood 
 On Highland heath or Holy-Rood.'' 
 He rights such wrong where it is given. 
 If it wei-e in the court of heaven.' 
 'Still was it outrage ; — yet, 't is true. 
 Not then claimed sovereignty liis due; 
 While Albany witli feeble hand 
 Held borrowed truncheon of command. 
 The 3'oung King, mewed in Stirling 
 
 tower. 
 Was stranger to respect and power. 
 But then, thy Chieftain's robber life! — 
 Winning mean prey by causeless strife. 
 Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain 
 His herds and harvest reared in vain, — 
 Mcthinks a soul like thine should scorn 
 The spoils from such foul foray borne.' 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Gael beheld him grim the while. 
 And answered with disdainful smile: 
 'Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
 I marked thee send delighted eye 
 Far to the south and east, where lay, 
 Extended in succession gay, 
 Deep waving fields and pastures green, 
 With gentle slopes and groves be- 
 tween : — 
 These fertile plains, that softened vale, 
 
 Were once the birthright of the Gael; 
 The stranger came with iron hand, 
 And from our fathers reft the land. 
 Where dwell we now? See, rudelv swell 
 Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 
 Ask we this savage hill we tread 
 For fattened steer or household liread. 
 Ask we for flocks these shingles drv. 
 And well the mountain might reply, — 
 "To you, as to your sires of yore. 
 Belong the target and claymore ! 
 I give you shelter in my breast, 
 Your own good blades must win the 
 
 rest." 
 Pent in this fortress of the North, 
 Think'st thou we will not sally forth. 
 To spoil the spoiler as we may. 
 And from the robber rend the prev? 
 Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain 
 The Saxon rears one shock of grain. 
 While of ten tiiousand herds there stravs 
 But one along yon river's maze, — 
 The Gael, of plain and river heir. 
 Shall with strong hand redeem his share. 
 Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold 
 That plundering Lowland field and fold 
 Is aught but retribution true? 
 Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu.' 
 
 vm. 
 
 .\nswered Fitz-James: 'And, if I sought. 
 
 Think'st thou no other could be brought? 
 
 Wiiat deem ye of my path waylaid? 
 
 My life given o'er to ambuscade?' 
 
 'As of a meed to rashness due : 
 
 Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 
 
 I seek my hound or falcon strayed, 
 
 I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, — 
 
 Free hadst thou been to come and go. 
 
 But secret path marks secret foe. 
 
 Nor yet for this, even as a spy, 
 
 Hadst thou, unheard, beeir doomed to die, 
 
 Save to fulfil an augury.' 
 
 'Well, let it pass ; nor will I now 
 
 .;• 
 
THR COMBAT 
 
 Fresh cause of enmity avow, 
 
 To cliafe thv mood and cloud thy brow. 
 
 Enougli, I am by promise tied 
 
 To niatcli me with tiiis man of pride: 
 
 Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen 
 
 In peace; but when I come again, 
 
 I come with banner, brand, and bow, 
 
 As leader seeks his mortal foe. 
 
 For love-lorn swain in lady's bower 
 
 Ne'er panted for the appointed hour. 
 
 As I, until before me stand 
 
 This rebel Chieftain and his band !' 
 
 rx. 
 'Have then thy wish!' — He whistled 
 
 shrill. 
 And he was answered from the hill ; 
 Wild as the scream of the curlew. 
 From crag to crag the signal flew. 
 Instant, through copse and heath, arose 
 Bonnets and spears and bended bows ; 
 On right, on left, above, below. 
 Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; 
 From shingles gray their lances start. 
 The bracken bush sends forth the dart. 
 The rushes and the willow-wand 
 Are bristling into axe and brand. 
 And every tuft of broom gives life 
 To plaided warrior armed for strife. 
 That whistle garrisoned the glen 
 At once with full five hundred men, 
 As if the yawning hill to heaven 
 A subterranean host had given. 
 Watching their leader's beck and will. 
 All silent there they stood and still. 
 Like the loose crags whose threatening 
 
 mass 
 Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 
 As if an infant's touch could ui'ge 
 Their headlong passage down the verge. 
 With step and weapon forward flung. 
 Upon the mountain-side they hung. 
 The ]Mountainecr cast glance of pride 
 Along Bcnledi's living side, 
 
 Then fixed iiis eye and sable brow 
 
 Full on Fitz-James: 'How say'st thou 
 
 now .'' 
 These are Clan-Alpine's wan-iors true ; 
 And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu !' 
 
 X. 
 
 Fitz-James was brave: — though to his 
 
 heart 
 The life-blood thrilled with sudden start. 
 He manned himself with dauntless air. 
 Returned the Chief his haughty stare, 
 His back against a rock he bore, 
 And firmly placed his foot before : — 
 'Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 
 From its firm base as soon as I.' 
 Sir Roderick marked, — and in his eyes 
 Respect was mingled with surprise, 
 And the stern joy which warriors feel 
 In foeman worthy of their steel. 
 Short space he stood — then waved his 
 
 hand : 
 Down sunk the disappearing band; 
 Each warrior vanished where he stood. 
 In broom or bracken, heath or wood ; 
 Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 
 In osiers pale and copses low ; 
 It seemed as if their mother Earth 
 Had swallowed up her warlike birth. 
 The wind's last breath had tossed in air 
 Pennon and plaid and plumage fair, — 
 The next but swept a lone hill-side. 
 Where heath and fern were waving wide : 
 The sun's last glance was glinted back 
 From spear and glaive, from targe and 
 
 jack,— 
 The next, all unrcflected, shone 
 On bracken green and cold gray stone. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Fitz-James looked round, — yet scarce be- 
 lieved 
 The witness that his sight received ; 
 Such apparition well might seem 
 
THE LADY OF THB LAKE 
 
 Delusion of a dreadful dream. 
 Sir Roderick in suspense lie eyed, 
 And to his look the Chief replied: 
 'Fear naught — nay, that I need not 
 
 say — 
 But — doubt not aught from mine array. 
 Tliou art my guest ; — I pledged my word 
 
 C^ As far as Coilantogle ford : 
 
 Nor would I call a clansman's brand 
 For aid against one valiant liand, 
 Though on our strife lay every vale 
 Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 
 So move we on ; — I only meant 
 
 '^ To show the reed on which you leant. 
 Deeming tliis path you nn'ght j)ursue 
 Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.' 
 They moved ; — I said Fitz-James was 
 
 brave 
 As e\Tr knigjit that belted glaive, 
 Yet dare not say that now lils blood 
 Kept on its wont and tempered flood. 
 As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 
 That sccnn'ng lonesome pathway 
 
 through. 
 Which yet by fearful proof was rife 
 With lances, that, to take his life. 
 Waited but signal from a guide, 
 So late dishonored and defied. 
 Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 
 The vanished guardians of the ground. 
 And still from copse and heather deep 
 Fancy saw spear and l)roadsword peep. 
 And in the jilover's shrilly strain 
 The signal wliistle heard again. 
 Nor breathed he free till far behind 
 The pass was left ; for then they wind 
 Along a wide and level green. 
 Where neither tree nor tuft was seen. 
 Nor ru.sh nor bush of broom was near. 
 To hide a bonnet or a spear. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The Chief in silence strode before, 
 
 And reached tiiat torrent's sounding 
 
 shore. 
 Which, daughter of three mighty lakes. 
 From Vennachar in silver breaks. 
 Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless 
 
 mines 
 On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 
 Where Rome, the Empress of the world, 
 Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. 
 And here his course the Chieftain stayed, 
 Threw down his target and bis plaid, 
 And to the I>owland warrior said: 
 'Bold Saxon ! to his pronu'se just, 
 A'ich-Alpine has discharged his trust. 
 This murderous Chief, this ruthless man. 
 This head of a rebellious clan, 
 Hath 1«1 thee safe, through watch and 
 
 ward, 
 Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 
 Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 
 A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 
 See, here all vantageless I stand. 
 Armed like thyself with single brand; 
 For this is Coilantogle ford, 
 And thou nnist keej) tlioo with thv sword.' 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The Saxon paused : 'I ne'er delayed. 
 When foeman bade me draw my blade ; 
 Nay more, i)rave Chief, I vowed thy 
 
 death ; 
 Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, 
 And my deep debt for life preserved, 
 A better meed have well deserved : 
 Can nauglit but l)l(iod our feud atone.' 
 Are there no means?' — 'No, stranger, 
 
 none ! 
 And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal, — 
 The Saxon cause rests on thy steel ; 
 For thus spoke Fate by prophet bred 
 Between the living and the dead : 
 "Who spills the foremost focman's h'fe, 
 His party conquers in the strife." ' 
 'Then, bv mv word,' tlie Saxon said. 
 

 i-.uiu.,4 i Iw'llllet^t'Jlrl^-ty, l^iii. 
 
 ^-v 
 
THE. COMBAT 
 
 'The riddle is already' read. 
 Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — 
 There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. 
 Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy ; 
 Then 3'ield to Fate, and not to me. 
 To James at Stirling let us go. 
 When, if thou wilt be still his foe. 
 Or if the King shall not agree 
 To grant thee grace and favor free, 
 I plight mine honor, oath, and word 
 That, to thy native strengths restored. 
 With each advantage shalt thou stand 
 That aids thee now to guard thy land.' 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's 
 
 eye: 
 'Soars thy presumption, then, so high, 
 Because a wretched kern ye slew. 
 Homage to name to Roderick Dim.'' 
 He yields not, he, to man nor Fate! 
 Thou add'st hut fuel to my hate ; — 
 My clansman's blood demands revenge. 
 Not yet prepared.'' — By heaven, I change 
 IMy thought, and hold thy valor light 
 As that of some vain carpet knight, 
 Who ill deserved my courteou.s care. 
 And whose best boast is but to wear 
 A braid of his fair lady's hair.' 
 'I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! 
 It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; 
 For I have sworn this braid to stain 
 In the best blood that warms thy vein. 
 Now, truce, farewell ! and, ruth, be- 
 gone ! — 
 Yet think not that bv thee alone, 
 Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ; 
 Though not from copse, or heath, or 
 
 cairn. 
 Start at my whistle clansmen stern. 
 Of this small horn one feeble blast 
 Would fearful odds against thee cast. 
 But fear not — doubt not — which thou 
 wilt— 
 
 We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.' 
 Then each at once his falchion drew, 
 Kach on the ground his scabbard threw. 
 Each looked to sun and stream and plain 
 As what they ne'er might see again ; 
 Then foot and point and eye opj)osed, 
 In dubiou.s strife they darkly closed. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 
 That on' the field his targe he threw. 
 Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
 Had death so often dashed aside ; 
 For, trained abroad his arms to wield, 
 Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 
 He practised every pass and ward. 
 To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard; 
 While less expert, though stronger far. 
 The Gael maintained unequal war. 
 Three times in closing strife they stood. 
 And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood; 
 No stinted draught, no scanty tide. 
 The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 
 Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain. 
 And showered his blows like wintrj' rain; 
 And, as firm- rock or castle-roof 
 Against the winter shower is proof. 
 The foe, invulnerable still. 
 Foiled his wild rage by steady skill ; 
 Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 
 Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand. 
 And backward home upon the lea. 
 Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 'Now yield thee, or by Him who made 
 The world, thy heart's blood dyes my 
 
 blade !' 
 'Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 
 Let recreant yield, who fears to die.' 
 Like adder darting from his coil. 
 Like wolf that dashes through the toil, 
 Like mountain-cat who guards her 
 
 young. 
 
THE LADY OF THB LAKE 
 
 Full at Fitz- James's throat he sprung; 
 Received, but recked not of a wound, 
 And locked his arms his foeman round. — 
 Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! 
 No maiden's liand is round thee thrown ! 
 That desperate grasp thy frame might 
 
 feel 
 Through bars of brass and triple steel ! 
 They tug, they strain ! down, down they 
 
 go, 
 The Gael above, Fitz-James below. 
 The Chieftain's gripe his throat com- 
 pressed, 
 His knee was planted on his breast; 
 His clotted locks he backward threw. 
 Across his brow his hand he drew. 
 From blood and mist to clear his sight, 
 Tiicn gleamed aloft his dagger bright ! 
 But hate and fury ill sup])iicd 
 Tiie stream of life's cxiiausted tide. 
 And all too late the advantage came. 
 To turn tlie odds of deadly game: 
 For, while the dagger gleamed on high, 
 Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and 
 
 eye. 
 Down came the Iilow ! but in the heath 
 The erring blade found bloodless sluatii. 
 The struggling foe may now unclasp 
 The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp ; 
 Unwounded from the (h'eadful close. 
 But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 He faltered thanks to Heaven for life. 
 Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate 
 
 strife ; 
 Next on his foe his look lie cast. 
 Whose every gasp appeared his last ; 
 In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid. — 
 'Poor Blanche ! th}- wrongs are dearly 
 
 paid ; 
 Yet with thy foe must die, or live. 
 The praise tliat faith and valor give.' 
 With that he blew a bugle note. 
 
 Undid the collar from his throat, 
 Unbonneted, and by the wave 
 Sat down his brow and hands to lave. 
 Then faint afar are heard the feet 
 Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 
 The soun<ls increase, and now are seen 
 Four mounted squires in Lincoln green ; 
 Two who bear lance, and two who lead 
 By loosened rein a saddled steed ; 
 Each onward held his headlong course. 
 And by Fitz-James reined up his 
 
 lior.sc, — 
 With wonder viewed the bloody spot, — 
 'Exclaim not, gallants ! question not. — 
 You, Herbert and laiffncss, alight. 
 And bind the wounds of vonder knight; 
 Txt the gray palfrey bear his weight. 
 We destined for a fairer freight. 
 And bring him on to Stirling straight; 
 I will before at better speed. 
 To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 
 The sun rides higli ; — I must be boune 
 To see the archer-game at noon ; 
 But ligiitly Bayard clears the lea. — 
 De Vaux and Herries, follow me. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 'Stand, Bayard, stand !' — the steed 
 
 obeyed. 
 With arcliing neck and liended head. 
 And glancing eye and (|uivering ear. 
 As if he loved his lord to hear. 
 No foot Fitz-Janus in stirrup stayed. 
 No grasp upon the saddle laid, 
 But wreathed his left hand in the mane, 
 And lightly bounded from the plain. 
 Turned on the horse his armed heel. 
 And stirred his courage with the steel. 
 Bounded the fiery steed in air. 
 The rider sat erect and fair, 
 Then like a bolt from steel crossbow 
 Forth launched, along the plain they go. 
 They dashed that rapid torrent through. 
 And up Carhonii''s hill thev flew : 
 
 J 
 

 W 
 
 n 
 
 

THE. COMBAT 
 
 Still at the gallop pricked the Knight, 
 His nicrrvmcn followed as they niight. 
 Along thy banks, swift Teitli ! they ride, 
 And in the race they mock thy tide; 
 Torry and Lendrick now are past, 
 And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; 
 They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, 
 Tliey sink in distant woodland soon ; 
 Blair Drummond sees the hoofs strike 
 
 fire, 
 Tliey sweep like breeze through Ochter- 
 
 tyre ; 
 They mark just glance and disappear 
 The lofty brow of ancient Kicr; 
 They bathe their coursers' sweltering 
 
 sides. 
 Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides. 
 And on the opposing shore take ground. 
 With plash, with scramble, and with 
 
 bound. 
 Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig- 
 
 Forth ! 
 And soon the bulwark of the North, 
 Gray Stirling, with her towers and town. 
 Upon their fleet career looked down. 
 
 As up the flinty path they strained. 
 Sudden his steed the leader reined ; 
 A signal to his squire he flung. 
 Who instant to his stirrup sprung: — 
 'Secst thou, Dc Vaux, yon woodsman 
 
 gray. 
 Who townward holds the rocky way. 
 Of stature tall and j)oor arra}'.'' 
 Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride, 
 Witli which he scales the mountain-side.' 
 Know'st thou from whence he comes, or 
 
 whom .'" 
 'No, by my word ; — a burly groom 
 He seems, who in the field or chase 
 A baron's train would nobly grace — ' 
 'Out, out, De A'aux ! can fear supply. 
 And jealousy, no sharper eye.'' 
 
 Afar, ere to the hill he drew, 
 That stately form and step I knew ; 
 Like form in Scotland is not seen. 
 Treads not such step on Scottish green. 
 'T is James of Douglas, b>' 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 wheeled their steeds, 
 
 and straight 
 They won the Castle's postern gate. 
 
 The Douglas, who had bent his way 
 From Canibus-kenneth's abbey gray. 
 Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf. 
 Held sad conmiunion 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, 
 ]\Iy child shall be the pride of Heaven ; — 
 Be pardoned one repining tear ! 
 For He who gave her knows how dear, 
 How excellent ! — but that is by. 
 And now my business is — to die. — 
 Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread 
 A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; 
 And thou, sad and fatal mound ! 
 That oft hast heard the death-axe sound. 
 As on the noblest of the land 
 Fell the stern lieadsman's bloody hand, — 
 The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 
 Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom ! 
 But hark! what blithe and jolly peal 
 ]\Iakes the Franciscan stee|)le reel.'' 
 And see ! ujion the crowded street. 
 In motley groups what masquers meet ! 
 Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, 
 
 (I 
 
 
 
 -■■\ 
 
 V. 
 
THE LADY OF THB LAKE 
 
 v^' 
 
 I 
 ■ 1 
 
 AX 
 
 ;^ 
 
 Ami merry morrice-diuiccrs come. 
 I guess, by all this quaint array, 
 The burghers hold their sports to-day. 
 James will be there; he loves such show. 
 Where the good yeoman bends his bow, 
 And the tough wrestler foils his foe, 
 As well as where, in jjroud career, 
 'l"he high-born tilter shivers spear. 
 I'll follow to the Castle-park, 
 And jilay my jirize ; — King James shall 
 
 mark 
 If age has tamed these sinews stark. 
 Whose force so oft in happier days 
 His boyish wonder loved to praise.' 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The Castle gates were open flung. 
 
 The quivering drawbridge rocked and 
 
 rung, 
 And echoed loud the flinty street 
 Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, 
 As slowly down the steep descent 
 Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, 
 While all along the crowded way 
 Was' jubilee and loud huzza. 
 And ever James was bending low 
 To his white jennet's saddle-bow, 
 Dofling his cap to city dame, 
 Who smiled antl blushed for pride and 
 
 shame. 
 And well the' simperer might be vain, — 
 He chose the fairest of the train. 
 Gravel}' he greets each city sire. 
 Commends each pageant's quaint attire. 
 Gives to the dancers thanks aloud. 
 And smiles and nods upon the crowd. 
 Who rend the heavens with their ac- 
 claims, — 
 'Long live the Conmions' King, King 
 
 James !' 
 Behind the King thronged peer and 
 
 knight, 
 And noble dame and damsel bright, 
 Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay 
 
 Of the steep street and crowded way. 
 But in the train you might discern 
 Dark lowering brow and visage stern ; 
 There nobles mourned their pride re- 
 strained, 
 And the mean burgher's joys disdained; 
 And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan. 
 Were each from home a banished man. 
 There thought upon their own gray 
 
 tower. 
 Their waving woods, their feudal power, 
 And deemed themselves a shameful part 
 Of pageant which they cursed in heart. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Now, in the Castle-j)ark, drew out 
 Their checkered bands the joyous rout. 
 There morricers, with bell at heel 
 And blade in hand, their mazes wheel ; 
 But chief, beside the butts, there stand 
 Bold Robin Hood and all his band, — 
 Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl. 
 Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, 
 Maid ^larian, fair as ivory bone. 
 Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John; 
 Their bugles challenge all that will. 
 In archery to prove their skill. 
 The Douglas bent a bow of might, — 
 His fii-st shaft centred in the white, 
 And when in turn he shot again. 
 His second split the first in twain. 
 From the King's hand must Douglas take 
 A silver dart, the archers' stake ; 
 Fondly he watched, with watery eye. 
 Some answering glance of sympathy, — 
 Xo kind emotion made reply ! 
 Indiff'erent 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, — 
 
THR COMBAT 
 
 aM'«- 
 
 Nor called in vain, for Douglas came. — 
 For life is Hugli of Larbcrt lame ; 
 Scarce better John of Alloa's fare, 
 Whom senseless home his comrades bare. 
 Prize of the wrestling match, the King 
 To Douglas gave a golden ring. 
 While coldly glanced his eye of blue, 
 As frozen drop of wintry dew. 
 Dougla.s would speak, but in his breast 
 His struggling soul his words sup- 
 pressed ; 
 Indignant then he turned 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 graj'-haired sires, who know the 
 
 past, 
 To strangers point the Douglas cast. 
 And moralize on the decay 
 Of Scottish strength in modem day. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The vale with loud applauses rang. 
 The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang. 
 Tlie King, with look unmoved, bestowed 
 A purse well filled with pieces broad. 
 Indignant smiled the Douglas proud. 
 And threw the gold among the crowd. 
 Who now with anxious wonder scan, 
 And sharper glance, the dark gray man ; 
 Till whispers rose among the throng. 
 That heart so free, and hand so strong, 
 Must to the Douglas blood belong. 
 The old men marked and shook the head, 
 To see his hair with silver spread. 
 And winked aside, and told each son 
 Of feats upon the English done. 
 Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 
 
 Was exiled from his native land. 
 The women praised his stately form. 
 Though wrecked by many a winter's 
 
 stonii ; 
 The youth with awe and wonder saw 
 His strength sui^passing Nature's law. 
 Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd. 
 Till murmurs rose to clamors loud. 
 But not a glance from that proud ring 
 Of peers who circled round the King 
 With Douglas held communion kind. 
 Or called the banished man to mind ; 
 No, not from those who at the chase 
 Once held his side the honored place, 
 Begirt his board, and in the field 
 Found safety vmdcrneatb his shield ; 
 For he whom royal eyes disown. 
 When was his form to courtiers known ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The jMonarch saw the gambols flag, 
 And bade let loose a gallant stag, 
 WHiose pride, the holiday to crown. 
 Two favorite greyhounds should pull 
 
 down, 
 That venison free and Bourdeaux wine 
 Might serve the archery to dine. 
 But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side 
 Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide. 
 The fleetest hound in all the North, — 
 Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. 
 She left the royal hounds midway. 
 And dashing on the antlered prey. 
 Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank. 
 And deep the flowing life-blood drank. 
 Tlie King's stout huntsman saw the sport 
 By strange intruder broken short. 
 Came up, and with his leash unbound 
 In anger struck the noble hound. 
 The Douglas had endured, that morn. 
 The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, 
 And last, and worst to spirit proud. 
 Had borne the pity of the crowd ; 
 But Lufra had been fondly bred, 
 
 ^ -^ 
 
 r 
 
THE LADY OF THB LAKE 
 
 To sliarc liis board, to watcli liis bed, 
 And oft would Ellen Lufra's neck 
 In maiden glee with garlands deck ; 
 They were such playmates that with 
 
 name 
 Of I.ufra Ellen's image came. 
 His stifled wrath is brimming high. 
 In darkened brow and flashing eye; 
 As waves before the bark divide, 
 The crowd gave way before his stride-; 
 Needs but a buffet and no m<irc, 
 Tlie groom lies senseless in his gore. 
 Such blow no other hand could deal. 
 Though gauntleted in glove of steel. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Then clamored loud the royal train, 
 
 And l)randished swords and staves amain. 
 
 But stern the Baron's warning: 'Back! 
 
 Back, on your lives, ye menial pack ! 
 
 Bcw.are tlic Douglas. — Yes ! behold. 
 
 King James! The Douglas, doomed of 
 old. 
 
 And vainly sought for near and far, 
 
 A victim to atone tiie war, 
 
 A willing victim, now attends, 
 
 Nor craves thy grace but for his 
 friends. — ' 
 
 ''J'lius is my clemency repaid.'' 
 
 Presumptuous Lord !' the .Alonarch said : 
 'Of thy misprdud ambitious clan. 
 Thou, James of Botlnvell, wert tlie man. 
 The only man, in whom a foe 
 My woman-mercy would not know : 
 But shall a ;Monarch's presence brook 
 Injurious blow and haughty look.' — • 
 What ho ! the Captain of our Guard ! 
 Give the offender fitting ward. — 
 Break off the sports !" — for tumult rose. 
 And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, — 
 'Break oiF the sports!' he .said and 
 
 frowned, 
 'And bid our horsemen clear the ground.' 
 
 xxvu. 
 
 Then uproar wild and misarray 
 ^larred tlie fair form of festal dav. 
 Tlie lun'semen j)ricked among the crowd, 
 Bepelied 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 j)athway steep. 
 While on the rear in thunder pour 
 The rabble with disordered roar. 
 With grief the noble Douglas saw 
 The Commons rise against the law, 
 And to the leading soldier said: 
 'Sir John of Hyndford, 't was my blade 
 Tiiat knighthood on thy shoulder laid; 
 For that good deed permit me tlien 
 A woi-d with these misguided men. — 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 'Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me 
 
 Ye break the bands of fealty. 
 
 My life, my honor, and my cause, 
 
 I tender free to Scotlanil's laws. 
 
 Are these so weak as must require 
 
 The aid of your misguided ire.' 
 
 Or if I suffer causeless wrono-. 
 
 Is then my selfish rage so strong, 
 
 ^ly 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.' 
 
 O 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 motlicr wails her son. 
 For me that widow's mate expires, 
 
THR COMBAT 
 
 For mc tliat orphans weep their sires, 
 That patriots mourn insulted laws, 
 And curse tlie Douglas for the cause, 
 O let your patience ward such ill, 
 And keep 3'our right to love me still !' 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The crowd's wild fury sunk again 
 In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 
 With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed 
 For blessings on his generous head 
 Who for his country felt alone, 
 And prized her blood beyond his own. 
 Old men upon the verge of life 
 Blessed him who stayed the civil strife ; 
 And mothers held their babes on high, 
 The self-devoted Chief to spy, 
 Triumphant over wrongs and ire. 
 To whom the prattlers owed a sire. 
 Even the rough soldier's heart was 
 
 moved ; 
 As if behind some bier beloved, 
 With trailing arms and drooping head. 
 The Douglas up the hill he led. 
 And at the Castle's battled verge. 
 With sighs resigned his honored charge. 
 
 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 
 Strained for King James their morning 
 
 note : 
 With like acclaim they hailed the day 
 When first I broke tlie Douglas sway; 
 
 And like acclaim would Douglas greet 
 If he could hurl me from my seat. 
 Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, 
 Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain? 
 Vain as the leaf upon the stream. 
 And fickle as a changeful dream ; 
 Fantastic as a woman's mood, 
 And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood. 
 Tliou many-headed monster-thing, 
 
 who would wish to be thy king? — 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 'But soft ! what messenger of speed 
 Spurs hitherward his panting steed ? 
 
 1 guess his cognizance afar — 
 
 What from our cousin, John of Mar?' 
 'He prays, my liege, your sports keep 
 
 bound 
 Witliin the safe and guarded ground; 
 For some foul purpose yet unknown, — 
 Most sure for evil to the throne, — 
 The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dim, 
 Has summoned his rebellious crew; 
 'T is said, in James of Bothwell's aid 
 These loose banditti stand arrayed. 
 The Earl of Mar this morn from Doune 
 To break tluir muster marclied, and soon 
 Your Grace will liear 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 liave done amiss, — 
 I should have earlier looked to this ; 
 I lost it in this bustling day. — 
 Retrace witji s]iecd thy former way; 
 Spare not for spoiling of thy steed. 
 The best of mine shall be thy meed. 
 Say to our faithful T.ord of ^lar. 
 We do forliid the intended war; 
 Roderick this morn in single fight 
 Was made our prisoner by a knight. 
 And Douglas hath himself and cause 
 
 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 ^l 
 
 u 
 
 1 4 
 
 Submitti'd to our kingdom's laws. 
 The tidings of their leaders lost 
 Will soon dissolve the mountain host, 
 Nor would we that the vulgar feel, 
 For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. 
 Bear ]Mar our message, Rraco, fly !' 
 He turned his steed, — ^My liege, I hie, 
 Yet ere I cross this lily lawn 
 I fear the broadswords will be drawn.' 
 The turf the flying coui'scr spurned, 
 And to his towers the King returned. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Ill with King James's mood that day 
 Suited gay feast and minstrel lay ; 
 Soon were dismissed the courtly throng. 
 And soon cut short the festal song. 
 Nor less uj)on the saddened town 
 
 The evening sunk in sorrow down. 
 The burghers spoke of civil jar. 
 Of rumored feuds and mountain war. 
 Of Moray, ]Mar, and Roderick Dim, 
 All up in arms ; — the Douglas too. 
 They mourned him pent within the hold, 
 'Where stout Earl William was of old.' — 
 And there his word the speaker stayed, 
 And finger on his lip he laid. 
 Or pointed to his dagger blade. 
 But jaded horsemen from the west 
 At evening to the Castle pressed. 
 And busy talkers said they bore 
 Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore; 
 At noon the deadly fray begun. 
 And lasted till the set of sun. 
 Thus giddy rumor shook the town, 
 Till closed the Night her pennons brown. 
 
 

 ■I Si 
 
 ^\ 
 
 
 ^ »l Li. J!ef (.lirsty Ml) 
 
 •'.:;&,. 
 
 92»J 
 
 / '--^-^ 
 
 CANTO SIXTH 
 
 THE GUARD ROOM 
 
 '» 
 
 /.Mil 
 ,1)1? 
 
 The sun, awakening, through tlie sniok}' 
 air 
 Of the dark city casts a sullen glance. 
 Rousing each caitiff to his task of care. 
 
 Of sinful man the sad inlieritancc ; 
 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 
 per, 
 And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind 
 
 nurse of men. 
 Wliat various scenes, and O, what scenes 
 of woe. 
 Are witnessed by that red and strug- 
 gling beam ! 
 The fevered patient, from his pallet low. 
 
 Tl)rougli crowded hospital beholds it 
 stream ; 
 The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam. 
 The debtor wakes to thought of gyve 
 and jail. 
 The love-lorn wretch starts from torment- 
 ing dream ; 
 The wakeful mother, by the glimmer- 
 ing pale. 
 Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes 
 his feeble wail. 
 
 At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 
 Witli soldier-step and weapon-clang. 
 While drums with rolling note foretell 
 Relief to weary sentinel. 
 Through narrow loop and casement 
 
 barred. 
 The sunbeams sought the Court of 
 
 Guard, 
 
 
 
 
 y-ii 
 
 
 m in 4|#?^S <'^* 
 
 
 V 
 
 ^- ^ Sv^ 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 And, struggling with the smoky air, 
 Deadened the torches' yellow glare. 
 In comfortless alliance shone 
 The lights tlirough arch of blackened 
 
 stone, 
 And sjiowcd wild shapes in garb of war. 
 Faces deformed with beard and scar, 
 All haggard from the midnight watch, 
 And fevered with the stern debauch; 
 For the oak table's massive board. 
 Flooded witli wine, with fragments 
 
 stored, 
 Antl beakers drained, and cups o'er- 
 
 thrown, 
 Showed in what sport the night had 
 
 flown. 
 Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; 
 Some labored still their thirst to quench : 
 Some, chilled with watching, spread their 
 
 hands 
 O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 
 WJiile round them, or beside them flung. 
 At every step their harness rung. 
 
 not 
 
 in. 
 for 
 
 their fields the 
 
 These drew 
 
 sword, 
 I^ike tenants of a feudal lord, 
 Nor owned tiie patriarchal claim 
 Of Chieftain in their leader's name; 
 Adventurers they, from far who roved. 
 To live by battle which tiiey loved. 
 There the Italian's clouded face. 
 The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace; 
 The mountain-loving Switzer there 
 jNIore freely breathed in mountain-air; 
 The Fleming there despised the soil 
 That paid so ill the laborer's toil ; 
 Tlieir rolls sliowed French and German 
 
 name ; 
 And merry England's exiles came. 
 To share, with ill-concealed disdain, 
 Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. 
 xMl brave in arms, well trained to wield 
 
 The heavy halberd, brand, and shield; 
 In camps licentious, wild, and bold ; 
 
 In pillage fierce and uncontrolled; 
 And now, by holytide and feast, 
 From rules of discipline released. 
 
 IV. 
 
 They held debate of bloody fray, 
 Fought 'twixt Loch Katrine and Ach- 
 
 ray. 
 Fierce was their speech, and mid their 
 
 words 
 Their liands oft grappled to their 
 
 swords ; 
 Nor sunk tlieir 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, 
 Tlieir prayers and feverish wails were 
 
 heard, — 
 Sad burden to the ruflian joke. 
 And savage oath by fury spoke ! — 
 At length up started Jolm of Brent, 
 A yeoman from the hanks 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 marred the dicer's brawling sport. 
 And shouted loud, 'Renew the bowl! 
 And, while a merry catch I troll. 
 Let each the buxom chorus bear. 
 Like brethren of the brand and spear.' 
 
 SOLDIER S SOXG. 
 
 Our vicar still preaches that Peter and 
 Poule 
 
 I 
 
THR GUARD -ROOM 
 
 / 
 
 Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny 
 
 brown bowl, 
 That there's wrath and despair in the 
 
 jollj' bhick-jack, 
 And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of 
 
 sack ; 
 Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy 
 
 liquor, 
 Drink upsoes 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 ker- 
 chief so sly. 
 And Apollyon shoots darts from her 
 
 merry black ej-c ; 
 Yet whoop. Jack ! kiss Gillian the 
 
 quicker. 
 Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for 
 
 the vicar ! 
 Our vicar thus preaches, — and why 
 
 should he not? 
 For the dues of his cure are the placket 
 
 and pot ; 
 And 't is right of his oflice poor laymen 
 
 to lurch 
 Who infringe the domains of our good 
 
 jMother Cliurch. 
 Yet whoop, bully-boys ! off with your 
 
 liquor, 
 Sweet Marjoric's the word, and a fig for 
 
 the vicar ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 The warder's challenge, heard without. 
 Stayed in mid-roar the merry shout. 
 A soldier to the portal went, — 
 'Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent: 
 And — beat for jubilee the drum! — 
 A maid and minstrel with him come.' 
 Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred, 
 Was entering now the Court of Guard, 
 A harper with him, and, in plaid 
 
 All nuifflcd close, a mountain maid, 
 Wlio backward shrunk to 'scape the view 
 Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 
 'What news.'" they roared: — 'I only 
 
 know. 
 From noon till eve we fought with foe. 
 As wild and as untamable 
 As the rude mountains where they dwell ; 
 On both sides store of blood is lost, 
 Nor nuich 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.' 
 
 'No, comrade ; — no such fortune mine. 
 After the fight these sought our line. 
 That aged harper and the girl. 
 And, having audience of the Earl, 
 ]\Iar bade I should purvey them steed. 
 And bring them hitherward with speed. 
 Forbear vour mirth and rude alarm. 
 For none shall do them shame or harm. — ' 
 'Hear ye his boast?' cried John of Brent, 
 Ever to strife and jangling bent; 
 'Shall he strike doe beside our lodge, 
 And yet the jealous niggard grudge 
 To pay the forester his fee? 
 I'll have my share howe'er it be. 
 Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee.' 
 Bertram his forward step withstood ; 
 And, burning in his vengeful mood, 
 Old Allan, though unfit for strife, 
 Laid hand upon his dagger-knife, 
 But Ellen boldly stepped between. 
 And dropped at once the tartan 
 
 screen : — 
 So, from his morning cloud, appears 
 The sun of ^lav through summer tears. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 The savage soldiery, amazed, 
 
 As on descended angel gazed ; 
 
 Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed, 
 
 Stood half adnnring, half ashamed. 
 
 vm. 
 
 Boldly she spoke: 'Soldiers, attend! 
 My father was the soldier's friend, 
 Cheered hin» in camps, in ■marches led. 
 And with him in the battle bled. 
 Not from the valiant or the strong 
 Should exile's daughter suffer wrong.' 
 Answered De Brent, most forward still 
 In every feat or good or ill : 
 'I shame me of the part I played ; 
 And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ! 
 An outlaw I by forest laws. 
 And merry Need\5'ood knows the cause. 
 Poor Rose, — if Ro.se 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 sliall quiver in his heart! 
 Beware loose speech, or jesting rough: 
 Vc all know John de Brent. Enouiili.' 
 
 IX. 
 
 Their Captain came, a gallant young, — 
 Of Tullibardine's house he sprung, — 
 Nor wore he yet the spurs of kniglit ; 
 Gay was his mien, his humor light, 
 And, though by courtesy controlled. 
 Forward his speech, his Ijcaring bold. 
 The high-born maiden ill could brook 
 The scanning of his curious look 
 And dauntless eye: — and yet, in sooth. 
 Young Lewis was a generous youth ; 
 But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 
 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 b.oar. 
 Like errant damosel of yore.' 
 Does thy high quest a knight require, 
 Or may the venture suit a squire.'" 
 Her dark eye flashed; — she paused and 
 
 sighed : — 
 '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.' 
 
 The signet-ring young Lewis took 
 With deep respect and altered look. 
 And said : 'This ring our duties own ; 
 And pardon, if to worth unknown, 
 In semblance mean obscurely veiled. 
 Lady, in aught my folly failed. 
 Soon as the day flings wide his gates, 
 The King shall know what suitor waits. 
 Please you meanwhile in fitting bower 
 Rc])osc you till his waking hour ; 
 Female attendance shall obey 
 Your best, for sen-ice or an'ay. 
 Permit I marshal you the way.' 
 But, ere she followed, with the grace 
 And open bounty of her race. 
 She bade her slender purse be shared 
 Among the soldiers of the guard. 
 The rest with thanks their guerdon took. 
 But Brent, witli shy and awkward look, 
 On the reluctant maiden's liold 
 Forced i)luntly back the profl^ered 
 
 gold : — 
 'Forgive a haughty Engli.sh heart. 
 And O, forget its ruder part ! 
 Tlie vacant purse shall be my share. 
 
ft. ^. ■.w.--*^-._' 
 
w 
 
THB GUARD -ROOM 
 
 Which in my barrct-cap I'll bear, 
 Perchance, in jeopardy of war. 
 Where gayer crests may keep afar.' 
 With thanks — 't was all she could — tlie 
 
 maid 
 His rugged courtesy repaid. 
 
 XI. 
 
 When Ellen forth with Lewis went, 
 Allan made suit to John of Brent : — 
 'My lady safe, O let your grace 
 Give me to see my master'.s face ! 
 His minstrel I, — to share his doom 
 Bound from the cradle to the tomb. 
 Tenth in descent, since first my sires 
 Waked for his noble house their lyres, 
 Nor one of all the race was known 
 But prized its weal above their own. 
 With the 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 ! — o'er his hearse. 
 Then let me share his captive lot ; 
 It is my right, — deny it not !' 
 'I>ittle we reck,' said John of Brent. 
 'We Southern men, of long descent ; 
 Nor wot wc 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 ]\Iinstrel, follow me; 
 Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see.' 
 
 Through grated arch and passage dread. 
 Portals they passed, where, deep within, 
 Spoke prisoner's moan and fetters' din; 
 Through ruggetl vaults, where, loosely 
 
 stored, 
 Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's 
 
 sword. 
 And many a hideous engine grim. 
 For wrenching joint and crushing limb. 
 By artists formed who deemed it shame 
 And sin to give their work a name. 
 They halted at a low-browed porch. 
 And Brent to Allan gave the torch. 
 While bolt and chain he backward rolled. 
 And made the bar unhasp its hold. 
 They entered: — 't was a prison-room 
 Of stem security and gloom. 
 Yet not a dungeon; for the day 
 Through lofty gratings found its way, 
 And rude and antique garniture 
 Decked the sad walls and oaken floor. 
 Such as the rugged days of old 
 Deemed fit for captive noble's hold. 
 'Here,' said De Brent, 'thou mayst re- 
 main 
 Till the Leech visit him again. 
 Strict is his charge, the warders tell, 
 To tend the noble prisoner well.' 
 Retiring then the bolt he drew. 
 And the lock's murmurs growled anew. 
 Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 
 A captive feebly raised his head ; 
 The wondering IMinstrel looked, and 
 
 knew — 
 Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dim ! 
 For, come from where Clan-Alpine 
 
 fought. 
 They, erring, deemed the Chief he 
 sought. 
 
 XII. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Then, from a rusted iron hook, 
 
 A I)unch of ponderous keys he took, 
 
 Lighted a torch, and Allan led 
 
 As the tall ship, whose lofty prore 
 Shall never stem the billows more. 
 Deserted by her gallant band, 
 
THE LADY OF THB LAKB 
 
 Amid tlie breakers lies astrand, — 
 So on liis couch lay Roderick Dim ! 
 And oft his fevered limbs he threw 
 In toss abrupt, as when her sides 
 Lie rocking in the advancing tides. 
 That sliake lier 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 tlie ]\Iinstrel he could scan, — 
 'What of thy lady?--of my clan?— 
 My mother? — Douglas? — tell nic all! 
 Have they been ruined in my fall ? 
 Ah, yes! or wherefore art thou here? 
 Yet speak, — speak boldlj^ — do not 
 
 fear.' — 
 For Allan, who his mood well knew. 
 Was choked with grief and terror too. — 
 'Who fought?— who fled?— Old man, be 
 
 brief ; — 
 Some might, — for they had lost their 
 
 Chief. 
 Who basely live.'' — who bravely died?' 
 'O, calm thee, Chief!' the Minstrel cried, 
 'Kll.li is safe!' 'For that thank Heaven !' 
 'And hopes are for the Douglas given: — 
 The Lady ^largarct, too, is well ; 
 And, for thy clan, — on field or fell, 
 Has never harp of minstrel told 
 Of combat fought .so true and bold. 
 Thy stately Pine is yet unbent. 
 Though many a goodly bough is rent.' 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The Chieftain reared his fomi on high, 
 And fever's fire was in his eye ; 
 But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 
 Checkered his swarthy brow and cheeks. 
 'Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play. 
 With measure bold on festal day. 
 In yon lone isle, — again whei'e ne'er 
 Shall harper play or warrior hear ! — 
 That stirring air that peaks on high, 
 O'er Dcrmid's race our victory. — 
 
 Strike it ! — and then, — for well thou 
 
 canst, — 
 Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced. 
 Fling me the picture of the fight, 
 When met my clan the Saxon might. 
 I'll listen, till my fancy hears 
 The clang of swords, the crash of spears ! 
 These grates, these walls, shall vanish 
 
 then 
 For the fair field of fighting men, 
 And my free spirit burst away. 
 As if it soared from battle fray.' 
 The trembling Bard with awe obeyed, — 
 Slow on the harp his hand he laid; 
 But soon remembrance of the sight 
 He witnessed from the mountain's height, 
 With what old Bertram told at night, 
 Awakened the full power of song, 
 And bore him in career along; — 
 As shallop launched on river's tide. 
 That slow and fearful leaves the side. 
 But, when it feels the middle stream. 
 Drives downward swift as lightning's 
 
 beam. 
 
 XV. 
 
 BATTLE OF BEAT.' AN DUINE. 
 
 'The Minstrel came once more to view 
 The eastern ridge of Benvenue, 
 For ere he parted he \\ouI(l say 
 Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — 
 Where shall lie find, in foreign land. 
 So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! — 
 There is no breeze ujion the fern. 
 
 No ripple on tlie lake, 
 LTpon her eyry nods the erne. 
 
 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, 
 
THE LADY OF THB LAKE. 
 
 Was brandishing like beam of light, 
 
 Each targe was dark below ; 
 And with the ocean's mighty swing, 
 When heaving to the tempest's wing. 
 They hurled them on the foe. 
 I heard the lance's quivering crash, 
 As when the whirlwind rends the ash ; 
 I heard the broadsword's deadly clang. 
 As if a hundred anvils rang ! 
 But Moray wheeled his rearward rank 
 Of horsemen on Clan-Aljjine's flank, — 
 
 '"My baiincr-nian, advance! 
 I sec," he cried, "their column shake. 
 Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake, 
 T'pon them with the lance !" — 
 The horsemen dashed among the rout, 
 
 As deer break through the broom ; 
 Their steeds arc stout, their swords are 
 out. 
 They soon make lightsome room. 
 Clan-Alpine's best are backward 
 borne — 
 Where, where wa.s 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 ])oured ; 
 Vanished the Saxon's stiniggling 
 spear, 
 Vanished the mountain-sword. 
 As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and 
 steep. 
 Receives her roaring linn, 
 As the dark caverns of the deep 
 Suck the wild whirlpool in. 
 So did the deep and darksome pass 
 Devour the battle's mingled mass ; 
 None linger now upon the plain. 
 Save those who ne'er shall fight again. 
 
 xrx. 
 
 'Now westward rolls the battle's din, 
 That deep and doubling pass within. — 
 Minstrel, away ! the work of fate 
 
 Is bearing on; its issue wait, 
 Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile 
 Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. 
 Gray Bcnvenue I soon repassed, 
 Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. 
 The sun is set; — the clouds are met, 
 
 Tlie lowering scowl of heaven 
 An inky hue of livid blue 
 
 To the deep lake has given ; 
 Strange gusts of wind from mountain 
 
 glen 
 Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. 
 I heeded not the eddying surge, 
 IMine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge. 
 Mine ear but heard that sullen sound. 
 Which like an earthquake shook the 
 
 ground. 
 And spoke the stera and desperate strife 
 That ])arts not but with parting life. 
 Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 
 The dirge of many a passing soul. 
 Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen 
 The martial flood disgorged again. 
 
 But not in mingled tide ; 
 The plaided warriors of the North 
 High on the mountain thunder forth 
 
 And overhang its side, 
 AVhile by the lake below appears 
 The darkening cloud of Saxon spears. 
 At weary bay each shattered band, 
 Eying their foemen, sternly stand ; 
 Their banners stream like tattered sail. 
 That flings its fragments to the gale. 
 And broken arms and disan-ay 
 Marked the fell havoc of the day. 
 
 XX. 
 
 'Viewing the mountain's ridge askance. 
 The Saxons stood in sullen trance. 
 Till ]Moray pointed with his lance, 
 And cried: "Behold yon isle! — 
 See ! none are left to guard its strand 
 But women weak, that wring the hand: 
 'T is there of vore the robber band 
 
THB GUARD -ROOM 
 
 Their booty wont to pile ; — 
 My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, 
 To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, 
 And loose a shallop from the shore. 
 Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then, 
 Lords of his mate, and brood, and den." 
 Forth from the ranks a spearman 
 
 sprung, 
 On earth his casque and corselet rung, 
 
 He plunged him in the wave : — 
 All saw the deed, — the purpose knew, 
 And to their clamors Benvcnue 
 
 A mingled echo gave ; 
 The Saxons 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. 
 Poured down at once the lowering 
 
 heavert: 
 A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast. 
 Her billows reared their snowy crest. 
 Well for the swimmer swelled they high, 
 To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; 
 For round him showered, mid rain and 
 
 hail. 
 The vengeful arrows of the Gael. 
 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 marked Duncraggan's widowed dame. 
 Behind an oak I saw her stand, 
 A naked dirk gleamed in her hand : — 
 It darkened, — but amid the moan 
 Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — 
 Another flash ! — the spearman floats 
 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. 
 
 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, 
 
 While, in the Monarch's name, afar 
 
 A herald's voice forbade the war, 
 
 For Bothwell's lord and Roderick bold 
 
 Were both, he said, in captive hold.' — 
 
 But here the lay made sudden stand, 
 
 The harp escaped the Minstrcl'.s hand ! 
 
 Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 
 
 How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy: 
 
 At flrst, the Chieftain, to the chime. 
 
 With lifted hand kept feeble time ; 
 
 That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 
 
 Varied his look as changed th.e song ; 
 
 At length, no more his deafened ear 
 
 The minstrel melody can hear; 
 
 His face grows sharp, — his hands are 
 
 clenched, 
 As if some pang his heart-strings 
 
 wrenched ; 
 Set are his teeth, his fading eye 
 Is sternly fixed on vacancy ; 
 Thus, motionless and nioanlcss, drew 
 His parting breath stout Roderick 
 
 Dim !— 
 Old Allan-bane looked on aghast, 
 While grim and still his spirit passed ; 
 But when he saw that life was fled. 
 He poured his wailing o'er the dead. 
 
 XXII. 
 I.AMENT. 
 
 'And art thou cold and lowly laid. 
 Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid. 
 Breadalbane's boast, Clan-A 1 p i n c ' s 
 
 shade ! 
 For thee shall none a requiem say.' — - 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 For tlice, who loved the minstrel's lay, 
 */ For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, 
 The sliclter of her exiled line, 
 '^ E'en in this prison-house of tliinc, 
 , I'll wail for Alpine's honored Pine! 
 
 'What fi-roans shall _yonder valleys fill ! 
 What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill ! 
 Wiiat tears of burning rage shall thrill, 
 Wlien mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 
 Tiiy fall before the race was won, 
 Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! 
 There breathes not clansman of thy line, 
 But would have given his life for tliine. 
 O, woo for Alpine's honored Pine ! 
 
 'Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — 
 The captive thrush may brook the cage, 
 The prisoned eagle dies for rage. 
 Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! 
 And, wlien its notes awake again. 
 Even she, so long beloved in vain, 
 Siiall with my harp her voice combine. 
 And mix her woe and tears with mine. 
 To wail Clan-Alpine's honored Pine.' 
 
 XXIIl. 
 
 Ellen the while, with bursting heart, 
 Remained in lordly bower apart, 
 Wlierc played, with many - colored 
 
 gleams. 
 Through storied pane the rising beams. 
 In vain on gilded roof they fall. 
 And lightened up a tapestried wall. 
 And for her use a menial train 
 A rich collation spread in vain. 
 The banquet proud, the chamber gay. 
 Scarce drew one curious glance astray ; 
 Or if she looked, 't was but to say, 
 With better omen dawned the day 
 In that lone isle, where waved on hish 
 The dun-deer's hide for canopy ; 
 ^Vhere oft her noble father shared 
 The simple meal her care prepared. 
 
 While I.ufra, crouching by her side. 
 Her station claimed with jealous pride, 
 And Douglas, bent on woodland game. 
 Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, 
 Whose answer, oft at random made. 
 The wandering of his thoughts betrayed. 
 Tliose 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 tlie power 
 To win her in this woful hour.'' 
 'T was from a turret that o'erhung 
 Her latticed bower, the strain was .sung. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN. 
 
 'My hawk is tired of perch and hood. 
 My idle grejdiound 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 yon dull steeple's drowsy chime. 
 
 Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl. 
 
 Inch after inch, along the wall. 
 
 The lai'k was wont my matins ring. 
 
 The sable rook my vespers sing ; 
 
 These towers, although a king's they be. 
 
 Have not a hall of joy for me. 
 
 No more at dawning mom I rise, 
 And sun myself in Ellen's e3'es. 
 Drive the fleet deer the forest through.. 
 And homeward wend with evening dew; 
 A blithesome welcome blithely meet. 
 And lay my trophies at her feet, 
 ^^^^i]c fled the eve on wing of glee, — 
 That life is lost to love and me!' 
 
THB GUARD -ROOM 
 
 Prince wliose will was 
 
 The hc,irt-sick la}' was liai'dly said, 
 The listener had not turned her head, 
 It trickled still, the startinf^ tear, 
 Wlicn lioht a footstc}) struck her car. 
 And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was 
 
 near. 
 She turned tiie hastier, lest again 
 The prisoner should renew liis strain. 
 'O welcome, hrave Fitz-Janies !' 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 ! tiic boon to give, 
 And bid thy noble father live ; 
 I can but be th}' guide, sweet maid. 
 With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 
 No tyrant he, though ire and pride 
 ]\Iay lay his better mood aside. 
 Come, Ellen, come ! 't is more than time, 
 He hold.s his court at morning prime.' 
 Witli beating heart, and bosom wrung. 
 As to a brother's arm she clung. 
 Gently he dried the falling tear. 
 And gently whispered hope and cheer ; 
 Her faltering steps lialf led, half stayed. 
 Through gallery fair and high arcade. 
 Till at his touch its wings of pride 
 A portal arcii unfolded wide. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Within 't was brilliant all and light, 
 A thronging scene of figures bright; 
 It glowed on Ellon'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 staid ; 
 A few faint steps she forward made, 
 Tiien slow her droo])ing iicad she raised, 
 And fearful round tlie presence gazed : 
 For him she sought v.ho owned this state, 
 
 The dreaded 
 
 fate !— 
 She gazed on many a princrly port 
 Might well have ruled a royal court ; 
 On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 
 Then turned bewildered and amazed. 
 For all stood bare ; and in the room 
 Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. 
 To him each lady's look was lent. 
 On him each courtier's eye was bent ; 
 Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen, 
 He stood, in simple Lincoln green. 
 The centre of the glittering ring, — • 
 And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's 
 
 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 showed the ring, — she clasped her 
 hands. 
 
 0, not a moment could he brook, 
 
 The generous Prince, that suppliant 
 
 look! 
 Gently he raised her, — and, the while, 
 Checked with a glance the circle's smile; 
 Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed. 
 And bade he'r terrors be dismissed: — 
 'Yes, fair; the wandering poor Fitz- 
 James 
 The fealty of Scotland claims. 
 To him thy woes, tliy wishes, bring ; 
 He will redeem his signet ring. 
 Ask naught for Douglas ; — yestcr even. 
 His Prince and he have much forgiven; 
 Wrong hath he had from slanderous 
 tongue, 
 
 1, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 
 We would not, to the vulgar crowd, 
 Yield what they craved witli clamor loud ; 
 Calmlv we lieard and judged his cause. 
 Our council aided and our laws. 
 
THE LADY OF THR LAKE 
 
 |<^rM|„dTOyw 
 
 I stanched tlij' father's death-feud stem 
 Witli stout De Vaux and gray Glen- 
 cairn ; 
 And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own 
 Tlie 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.' 
 
 XXVUI. 
 
 Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, 
 And on his neck his daughter hung. 
 The Monarch drank, that happy hour, 
 The sweetest, holiest draught of 
 
 P(n\er, — 
 When it can say with godlike voice, 
 Arise, sad Mrtue, and rejoice! 
 Yet would not James the general eye 
 On nature's raptures long should pry ; 
 He stepped between — 'Nay, Douglas, 
 
 nay. 
 Steal not my proselyte awaj' ! 
 The riddle 't is my right to read. 
 That brought this happy chance to 
 
 speed . 
 Yes, Ellen, « hen disguised I stray 
 In life's more low hut happier way, 
 'T is under name which veils my power, 
 Nor falsely veils, — for Stirling's tower 
 Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims. 
 And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 
 Thus watch I o'er insulted laws. 
 Thus learn to right the injured cause.' 
 Then, in a tone apart and low, — 
 'Ah, little traitress! none mu.st know 
 What idle dream, what lighter thought, 
 Wiiat vanity full dearly bought. 
 Joined to thine ej'e's dark witchcraft, 
 
 drew 
 ]My spell-hound steps to Bcnvenue 
 In dangerous hour, and all hut 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 Kins?' 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Full well the con.scious maiden guessed 
 He probed the weakness of her breast ; 
 But with that consciousness there came 
 A lightening of her fears for Gra-me, 
 And more she deemed the ^lonarch's ire 
 Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire 
 Rebellious broadsword boldly drew; 
 And, to her generous feeling true, 
 She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. 
 'Forbear th}' suit ; — the King of kings 
 Alone can .stay life's parting wings. 
 I know his heart, I know his hand. 
 Have shared his cheer, and proved his 
 
 brand ; — 
 ]My fairest earldom would I give 
 To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live ! — 
 Hast thou no other boon to crave? 
 No other captive friend to save?' 
 Blushing, she turned her from the King, 
 And to tiie Douglas gave the ring. 
 As if she wished her sire to speak 
 The suit that stained her glowing cheek. 
 'Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force. 
 And stubborn justice holds her course. 
 Malcolm, come forth !' — and, at the word, 
 Down kneeled the GriEme 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 outlawed man. 
 Dishonoring thus thy royal name. — 
 Fetters and warder for the Graeme!' 
 His chain of gold the King unstrung, 
 The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung. 
 Then gently drew the glittering band. 
 And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 
 
THE. QUARD-ROOM 
 
 Harp of the North, farewell ! The hills orow dark, 
 
 On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; 
 In twilight copse tiie glow-worm lights her spark, 
 
 The deer, lialf seen, are to the covert wending. 
 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 housing bee. 
 
 Yet, once again, farewell, thou ^Minstrel Harp ! 
 
 Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, 
 And little reck I of the censure .sharp 
 
 JMay idly cavil at an idle lay. 
 
 ]Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, 
 Througli secret woes the world has never known. 
 
 When on the weary night dawned wearier day. 
 And liitterer was the grief devoured alone. — 
 
 That I o'erlive such woes. Enchantress ! is thine own. 
 
 Hark ! as my lingering footsteps slow retire. 
 
 Some Spirit of the air has waked thy string ! 
 'T is now a serajjli bold, with touch of fire, 
 
 'T is now the binisli of Fairy's frolic wing. 
 Receding now, the dying numbers ring 
 
 Fainter and fainter down tlie rugged dell ; 
 And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 
 
 A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — 
 And now, 't is silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well 1 
 
 THE END. 
 
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