LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. | 
 
 Shelf .-..A..... 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
THE 
 
 Lady OF THE Lake 
 
 A POEM IN SIX CANTOS. 
 
 By SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. 
 
 STEREOGRAPHED IN THE ADVANCED CORRESPONDING STYLE 
 OF STANDARD PHONOGRAPHY. 
 
 With Common-Print Key Interfaced. With N 
 
 edition prepared and published by 
 
 ANDREW J. GRAHAM, 
 
 744 Broadway, New York. 
 
 1890. 
 
,Ai 
 
 g^t. 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, iu the year 1890, 
 BY ANDREW J. GRAHAM, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
 /^-3?y// 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE, 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 The scene of the following Poem is laid chiefly in the vicinity of 
 Loch-Katrine, in the Western Highlands of Perthshire. The time 
 of the action includes six days, and the transactions of each day 
 occupy a Canto. 
 
 CANTO FIRST. 
 
 THE CHASE. 
 Harp of the North ! that mouldering long hast hung 
 
 On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring, 
 And down the fitful hreeze thy numhers flung, 
 
 Till envious ivy did arormd thee cling. 
 Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — 
 
 minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep? 
 ' Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmiuing, 
 
 Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep. 
 Nor Lid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep? 
 
 Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, 
 
 Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd, 
 
 AVhen lay of hopeless love, or glory won, 
 Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 
 CI 
 
 LNTO FIRST. 
 
 
 THE CHASE. 
 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 2 
 
 At each according i pause was heard aloud 
 
 Thine ardent symphony sublime and high ! 
 Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed; 
 
 For still the burthen of thy minstrelsy 
 Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye 
 
 wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand 
 
 That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray; 
 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 touch' d in vain. 
 Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again ! 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 I. 
 
 The Stag at eve had drunk his fill, 
 
 Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, 
 
 And deep his midnight lair had made 
 
 In lone Glenartney's hazel shade; 
 
 But, when the sun his beacon red 
 
 Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, 
 
 The deep-mouthed blood-hounds heavy bay 
 
 Eesounded up the rocky way. 
 
 And faint, from farther distance borne. 
 
 Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 
 
 II. 
 
 As Chief, who hears his warder call, 
 
 "To arms ! the foemen storm the wall," 
 The antlered monarch of the waste 
 Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 But, ere his fleet career he took, 
 
 The dew-drops from liis 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, as the headmost foes appeared, 
 With one brave bound the copse he cleared, 
 And, stretching forward free and far. 
 
 Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.* 
 
 III. 
 Yelled on the view the opening pack. 
 
 Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back; 
 
 To many a mingled sound at once 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The awakened mountain gave response. 
 A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong, 
 Clattered a hundred steeds along, 
 Their peal the merry horns rang out, 
 A hundred voices joined the shout; 
 With hark and whoop and wild halloo, 
 No rest Benvoirlich's i echoes knew. 
 Far from the tumult fled the roe, 
 Close in her covert cowered, the doe, 
 The falcon, from her cairn 2 on high. 
 Cast on the rout a wondering eye, 
 Till far beyond her piercing ken 
 The hurricane had swept the glen. 
 Faint, and more faint, its failing din 
 Keturned from cavern, cliff, and linn, 3 
 And silence settled wide and still 
 On the lone Avood and mighty hill. 
 
 IV. 
 Less loud the sounds of sylvan war 
 Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 
 And roused the cavern, where ' tis told 
 A giant made his den of old; 
 For ere that steep ascent was won, 
 High on his pathway hung the sun. 
 And many a gallant, stayed per-force, 
 Was fain to breathe his faltering horse: 
 And of the trackers of the deer 
 Scarce half the lessening pack was near; 
 So shrewdly, on the mountain side. 
 Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 
 
 V. 
 
 The noble Stag was pausing now 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Upon the mountain's southern brow, 
 Where broad extended, far beneath. 
 The varied realms of fair Menteith. 
 With anxious eye he wandered o'er 
 Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, 
 And pondered refuge from his toil. 
 By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 
 But nearer was the copse-wood grey. 
 That waved and wept on Loch-Achray, 
 And mingled with the pine-trees blue 
 On the bold cliffs of Ben-venue. 
 Fresh vigor with the hope returned, 
 With flying foot the heath he spurned, 
 Held westward with unwearied race. 
 And left behind the panting chase. 
 
 VI 
 Twere long to tell wliat steeds gave o'er, 
 As swept the hunt through Cambus-more; 
 What reins were tightened in despair. 
 When rose Benledi's ridge in air; 
 Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath. 
 Who shunned to stem the flooded leith,— 
 For twice tliat day, from shore to shore, 
 The gallant Stag swam stoutly o'er. 
 Few were the stragglers, following far. 
 That reached the lake of Vennachar; 
 And when the Brigg of Turk was won, 
 The headmost horseman rode alone. 
 
 VII 
 
 Alone, but with unbated zeal. 
 That horseman plied the scourge and steel; 
 For, jaded now, and spent with toil, 
 Embossed with foam, and dark with soil. 
 While every gasp with sobs he drew, 
 The laboring Stag strained full in view. 
 Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed,' 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed, 
 
 Fast on his flymg traces came, 
 
 And all but won that desperate game; 
 
 For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, 
 
 Vindictive toiled the blood-hoimds stanch ;i 
 
 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. 
 
 YIII. 
 The Hunter marked that mountain high, 
 The lone lake's western boundary, 
 And deemed the Stag must turn to bay, 
 Where that huge rampart barred the way; 
 Already glorying in the prize, 
 Measured his antlers with his eyes; 
 For the death- wound, and death-halloo, 
 Mustered his breath, his whinyard drew;^ 
 But- thundering as he came prepared. 
 With ready arm and weapon bared. 
 The ynly quarry shunned the shock, 
 And turned him from the opposing rock; 
 Then, dashing down a darksome glen, 
 Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken. 
 In the deep Trosach's 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 
 Kave through the hollow pass amain. 
 Chiding the rocks that yelled again. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Close on the hounds the hunter came. 
 To cheer them on the vanished game; 
 But, stumbling in the nigged dell, 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The gallant horse exhausted fell. 
 The impatient rider strove in vain 
 To rouse him with the spur and rein, 
 For the good steed, his labors o'er, 
 Stretched his stilt 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, 
 'ihat costs thy life, my gallant gray !" 
 
 X. 
 
 Then through the dell his horn resounds. 
 From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 
 Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, 
 The sulky leader of the chase; 
 Close to their master's side they pressed, 
 With drooping tail and humbled crest; 
 But still the dingle's hollow throat 
 Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. 
 The owlets started from their dream, 
 The eagles answered with their scream, 
 Round and around the sounds were cast. 
 Till echo seemed an answering blast; 
 And on the hunter hied his way, 
 To join some comrades of the day; 
 Yet often paused, so strange the road. 
 So wondrous were the scenes it showed. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The western waves of ebbing day 
 Rolled o'er the glen their level way; 
 Each purple peak, each flinty spire. 
 Was bathed in floods of living fire 
 But not a setting beam could glow, 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Within the dark ravines below, 
 
 Where twined the path, in shadow hid, 
 
 Round many a rocky pyramid, 
 
 Shooting abruptly from the dell 
 
 Its thunder-splintered pinnacle, 
 
 Round many an insulated mass, 
 
 The native bulwarks of the pass. 
 
 Huge as the tower which builders vain 
 
 Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 
 
 The rocky summits, split and rent, 
 
 Formed turret, dome, or battlement, 
 
 Or seemed fantastically set 
 
 With cupola or minaret, 
 
 Wild crests as pagod ever decked. 
 
 Or mosque of Eastern architect. 
 
 Nor were these earth-born castles bare, 
 
 Nor lacked they many a banner fair; 
 
 For, from their shivered brows displayed. 
 
 Far o'er the unfathomable glade, 
 
 All twinkling with the dew-drop sheen. 
 
 The briar-rose fell in streamers green. 
 
 And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, 
 
 Waved in the w^est-wind's summer sighs. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Boon nature scattered, free and wild, 
 Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. 
 Here eglantine embalmed the air, 
 Hawthorn and hazel mingled there; 
 The primrose pale, and violet flower, 
 Found in each cliff 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. 
 With boughs that quaked at every breath, 
 Gray birch and aspen wept beneath; 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 10 
 
 Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 
 Cast anchor in the rifted roclv; 
 And, higlier yet, tlie pine-tree hung 
 His sliattercd trunk, and frequent flung, 
 Where seemed the clifts to meet on high, 
 His boughs athwart the narrowed sky, 
 Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, 
 Where glistening streamers waved and danced, 
 The wanderer's eye could barely view 
 The summer heaven's delicious blue; 
 So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 
 The scenery of a fairy dream. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Onward, anud the copse ' gan peep 
 A narrow inlet, still and deep. 
 Affording scarce such breadth of brim, 
 As served the wild-ducks brood to swim; 
 Lost for a space, through thickets veering, 
 But broader when again appearing, 
 Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 
 Could on the dark-blue mirror trace; 
 And farther as the Hunter strayed. 
 Still broader sweep its channels made. 
 The shaggy mounds no longer stood. 
 Emerging from entangled wood, 
 But, wave-encircled, seemed to float, 
 Like castle girdled with its moat; 
 Yet broader floods extending still. 
 Divide them from their parent hill, 
 Till each, retiring, claims to be 
 An islet in an inland sea. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And now, to issue from the glen. 
 No pathway meets the wanderer's ken,^ 
 Unless he climb, with footing nice, 
 A far projecting precipice. 
 
11 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The broom's tough roots his ladder luadc, 
 
 The liazel saplings lent their aid; 
 
 And thus an airy point he won, 
 
 Where, gleaming with the setting sun, 
 
 One burnished sheet of living gold, 
 
 Loch-Katrine lay beneath him rolled, 
 
 In all her length for winding lay, 
 
 With promontory, creek, and bay. 
 
 And islands that, empurpled bright. 
 
 Floated amid the livelier light; 
 
 And moutains, that like giants stand, 
 
 To sentinel enchanted land. 
 
 High on the south, huge Ben-venue 
 
 Down on the lake in masses threw 
 
 Craggs, 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 hiirh his forehead bare. 
 
 XV. 
 
 From the steep promontory gazed 
 
 The stranger raptured and amazed. 
 
 And, " What a scene were here," he cried, 
 
 " For princely pomp or churchman's pride ! 
 
 On this bold brow, a lordly tower; 
 
 In that soft vale, a lady's bower: 
 
 On yonder meadow, far away, 
 
 The turrets of a cloister gray. 
 
 How blithely might the bugle-horn 
 
 Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn ! 
 
 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 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 12 
 
 The holy matin's 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 lighted hall. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Blithe were it then to wander here ! 
 But now — beshrew yon nimble deer, — 
 Like that same hermit's, thin and spare, 
 The copse must give my evening fare; 
 Some mossy bank my couch must be, 
 Some rustling oak my canopy. 
 Yet pass we that; — the war and chase 
 Give little choice of resting-place ;-- 
 A summer night, in greenwood spent, 
 Were but to-morrow's merriment; 
 But hosts may in these wilds abound, 
 Such as are better missed than found; 
 To meet with Highland plunderers here ' 
 Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — 
 I am alone; my bugle strain 
 May call some straggler of the train; 
 Or, fall the worst that may betide. 
 Ere now this falchion has been tried." — 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But scarce again his horn he wound. 
 When lo ! forth starting at the sound, 
 From underneath an aged oak. 
 That slanted from the islet rock, 
 A damsel, guider of its way, 
 A little skiff shot to the bay, 
 That round the promontory steep 
 Led its deep line in graceful sweep, 
 
13 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 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, 
 
 Just as the Hunter left his stand, 
 
 And stood concealed amid the brake. 
 
 To view this Lady of the Lake. 
 
 The maiden paused, as if again 
 
 She thought to catch the distant strain. 
 
 With head upraised, and look intent, 
 
 And eye and ear attentive bent, 
 
 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. 
 
 . XYIII. 
 
 And ne' er did Grecian chisel trace 
 
 A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 
 
 Of finer form, or lovelier face ! 
 
 What though the sun, with ardent frown, 
 
 Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — 
 
 The sportive toil, which, short an(^ light, 
 
 Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, 
 
 Served too in hastier swell to show 
 
 Short glimpses of a breast of snow: 
 
 What though no rule of courtly grace 
 
 To measured mood had trained her pace, — 
 
 A foot more light, a step more true, 
 
 Ne' er from the heath-flower dashed the dew; 
 
 E' en the slight hare-l)ell 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, 
 
 Tlie list'ner held his breath to hear. 
 

 13 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 14 
 
 XIX. 
 
 A Chieftain's daughter seemed the maid; 
 
 Her satin snood, her silken plaid, 
 
 Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed. 
 
 And seldom was a snood amid 
 
 Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid. 
 
 Whose glossy black to shame might bring 
 
 The plumage of the raven's wing; 
 
 And seldom o'er a breast so fair, 
 
 Mantled a plaid with modest care, 
 
 And never brooch the folds combined 
 
 Above a heart more good and kind. 
 
 Her kindness and her worth to spy, 
 
 You need but gaze on Ellen's eye; 
 
 Not Katrine, in her mirror blue. 
 
 Gives back the shaggy banks more true, 
 
 Than every free-born glance confessed 
 
 The guileless movements of her breast; 
 
 Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 
 
 Or woe or pity claimed a sigh, 
 
 Or filial love was glowing there, 
 
 Or meek devotion poured a prayer, 
 
 Or tale of injury called forth 
 
 The indignant spirit of the north. 
 
 One only passion, unrevealed. 
 
 With maiden pride the maid concealed. 
 
 Yet not less purely felt the flame: — 
 
 Oh need I tell that passion's name ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 Impatient of the silent horn. 
 
 Now on the gale her voice was borne: — 
 
 "Father!" she cried; the rocks around 
 
 Loved to prolong the gentle sound. 
 
 Awhile she paused, no answer came, — 
 
 " Malcolm, was thine the blast?" the name 
 
 Less resolutely uttered fell. 
 
15 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The echoes could nut catch the swell. 
 "A stranger I, " the Huntsman said, 
 Advancing from the hazel shade. 
 The maid alarm'ci, with hasty oar, 
 Push' d her light shallop from the shore. 
 And when a space was gain' d hetween, 
 Closer she drew her bosom screen; 
 (So forth the startled swan would swing, 
 So turn to prune his ruffled wing;) 
 Then safe, though flutter' d and amazed, 
 She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 
 Not his the form, nor his the eye, 
 That youthful maidens wont to fly. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 On his bold visage middle age 
 
 Had slightly press' d its signet sage. 
 
 Yet had not quench' d the open truth, 
 
 And fiery vehemence of youth; 
 
 Forward and frolic glee was there. 
 
 The will to do, the soul to dare, 
 
 The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 
 
 Of hasty love or headlong ii-e. 
 
 His limbs were cast in manly mould. 
 
 For hardy sports, or contest bold; 
 
 And though in peaceful garb array'd, 
 
 And weaponless, except his blade. 
 
 His stately mien as well implied 
 
 A high-born heart, a martial pride, 
 
 As if a baron's crest he wore, 
 
 And sheathed in armor trod the shore. 
 
 Slighting the petty need he show'd. 
 
 He told of his benighted road: 
 
 His ready speech flow'd fair and free. 
 
 In phrase of gentlest courtesy; 
 
 Yet seem'd tliat tone and gesture bland. 
 
 Less used to sue than to command. 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 16 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Awhile tlie maid the stranger eyed, 
 And, reassured, at length replied. 
 That Highland halls were open still 
 To wilder' d wanderers of the hill. 
 " Nor think you unexpected come 
 To yon lone isle, our desert home; 
 Before the heath had lost the dew, 
 This morn a couch was pull'd for you; 
 On yonder mountain's purple head 
 Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled. 
 And our broad nets have swept the mere, 
 To furnish forth your evening cheer. " 
 "Now, by the rood, my lovely maid. 
 Your courtesy has err'd, " he said; 
 " No right have I to claim, misplaced, 
 The welcome of expected guest. 
 A wanderer, here by fortune tost, 
 My way, my friends, my courser lost, 
 I ne'er before, believe me, fair. 
 Have ever drawn your mountain air 
 Till on this lake's romantic strand, 
 I found a fay in fairy land. " — 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " I well believe, " the maid replied. 
 As her light skiff approach' d the side, — 
 " I well believe, that ne'er before 
 Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore; 
 But yet, as far as yesternight, 
 Old Allan- bane foretold your plight,— 
 A gray-hair' d sire, whose eye intent 
 Was on the vision' d future bent.i 
 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, 
 
17 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 That tassel' d horn so gayly gilt, 
 
 That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, 
 
 That cap with heron plumage trim, 
 
 And yon two hounds so dark and grim. 
 
 He bade that all should ready be. 
 
 To grace a guest of fair degree; 
 
 But light I held his prophecy, 
 
 And deem'd it was my father's horn. 
 
 Whose echoes o'er the lake v/ere borne.' 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The stranger smiled: — "Since to your home, 
 A destined errant-knight I come, 
 Announced by prophet sooth and old, 
 Doom'd, doubtless, for achievement bold, 
 I'll lightly front each high emprize, 
 For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 
 Permit me, first, the task to guide 
 Your fairy frigate o'er the tide. " — 
 The maid, with smile suppress' d and sly, 
 The toil unwonted saw him try; 
 For seldom, sure, if e'er before. 
 His noble hand had grasp' d an oar. 
 Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, 
 And o'er the lake the shallop flew; 
 With heads erect and whimpering cry. 
 The hounds behind their passage ply. 
 Nor frequent does the bright oar break 
 The dark'ning mirror of the lake, 
 Until the rocky isle they reach. 
 And moor their shallop on the beach. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The stranger view'd the shore around; 
 'Twas all so close with copse-wood bound, 
 Nor track nor pathway might declare 
 That human foot frequented there, 
 Until the mountain-maiden show'd 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 A claniueiing, unsuspected 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 devise ; 
 
 Of such materials as around 
 
 The workman's hand had readiest found. 
 
 Lopp'd of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, 
 
 And by the hatchet rudely squared, 
 
 To give the walls their destined height, 
 
 The sturdy oak and ash unite ; 
 
 Wliile moss, and clay, and leaves combined 
 
 To fence each crevice from the wind. 
 
 The lighter pine-trees overhead. 
 
 Then- slender length for rafters spread, 
 
 And wither' d heath and rushes dry 
 
 Supplied a russet canopy. 
 
 Due westward, fronting to the green, 
 
 A rural portico was seen. 
 
 Aloft on native pillars borne. 
 
 Of mountain tir with bark unshorn. 
 
 Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine 
 
 The Ivy and Idee an vine ; 
 
 Tlie clematis, the favored flower. 
 
 Which boasts the name of virgin-bower, i 
 
 And every hardy plant could bear 
 
 Locli Katrine's keen and searching air. 
 
 An instant in this porch she stay 'd, 
 
 And gayly to the stranger said, 
 
 "On heaven and on thy lady call. 
 
 And enter the enchanted hall ! "— 
 
 18 
 
19 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " My bope, my heaven, my trust must be, 
 
 My /gentle guide, iu following tbee. " — 
 
 He cross d the threshold— and a clang 
 
 Of angry steel that instant lang. 
 
 To his bold brow bis spirit rush'd, 
 
 But soon for vain alarm he blush' d, 
 
 When on the floor he saw display' d, 
 
 Cause of the din, a naked Made 
 
 Dropp'd from the sheath, that careless flung 
 
 Upon a stag's huge antlers swung; 
 
 For all around, the walls to grace. 
 
 Hung trophies of the fight or chase: 
 
 A target there, a bugle here, 
 
 A battle-axe, a hunting-spear, 
 
 And broadswords, b(jws, and arrows sore, 
 
 With the tusk'd trophies of the boar. 
 
 Here grins the wolf as when he died. 
 
 And there the wild-cat's brindhd hide 
 
 The frontlet of the elk adorns, 
 
 Or mantles o'er the bison's horns; 
 
 Pennons and flags defaced and stain' d. 
 
 That blackening streaks of blood retain'd. 
 
 And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, 
 
 With otter's fur and seal's unite. 
 
 In rude and uncouth tapestry all. 
 
 To garnish forth the sylvan hall. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 The wondering stranger round him gazed, 
 And next the fallen weapon raised; — 
 Few were the arms whose sinewy s'rength 
 Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. 
 And as the brand he poised and swayd, 
 " I never knew but one, " he said, 
 "Whose stalwart arm might brook to wi« Id 
 A blade like this in battle-field. " — 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 20 
 
 She sighed, then smiled and took the word; 
 
 " You see the guardiim champion's sword: 
 
 As light it trembles in his hand, 
 
 As in my grasp a hazel wand; 
 
 My sire's tall form might grace tie part 
 
 Of Ferragus , or Ascabart;i 
 
 But in the absent giant's hold 
 
 Are women now, and menials old. " — 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The mistress of the nifinsion came, 
 
 Mature of age, a graceful dame; 
 
 Whose easy step and stately port 
 
 Had well become a princely court, 
 
 To whom, though more than kindred knuw, 
 
 Young Ellen gave a mother's due. 
 
 Meet welcome to her guest she made, 
 
 And every courteous rite was paid, 
 
 That hospitality could claim, 
 
 Though all unask'd his birth and nt/me.» 
 
 Such tlien the reverence to a guest. 
 
 That fellest foe might join the feast. 
 
 And from his deadliest foeman's d' or 
 
 Unquestion'd turn the banquet o'er. 
 
 At length his rank the stranger names, 
 
 "The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James; 
 
 Lord of a barren heritage. 
 
 Which his brave sires, from Jige to age, 
 
 By their good swords had held with toil; 
 
 His sire had fall'n in such turmoil, 
 
 And he, God wot, was forced to stand 
 
 Oft for his right with blade in hand. 
 
 This morning with Lord Moray's train 
 
 He chased a stalwart stag in vain, 
 
 Outstripp'd his comrades, miss'd the deer. 
 
 Lost his good steed, and wander'd here. "— . 
 
21 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Fain would the Kniglit in turn re(iuire 
 The name and btate of Ellen's sire, 
 Well show'd the elder lady's mien, 
 That courts and cities she had se^n; 
 Ellen, though moie her looks display'd 
 The simple grace of sylvan maid, 
 In speech and gesture, form and face, 
 Show'd she was come of gentle race; 
 'Twere strange in ruder rank to find 
 Such looks, such manners, and such mii d. 
 Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, 
 Dame Margaret heard with silence grave: 
 Or Ellen, innocently gay, 
 Turn'd all inquiry light away:— 
 "Weird wom^n we ! by dale and down, 
 We dwell, afar from tower and town 
 We stem the flood, we ride the blast, 
 On wandering knights our spells we cast; 
 While viewless minstrels touch the string, 
 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing. " — 
 She sung, and still a liaip unseen 
 Fill'd up the symphony between.* 
 
 XXXI 
 
 "Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, 
 
 Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking; 
 Dream of battle 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 wnrfare o'er, 
 Dream of fighting fields no more; 
 Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
 
..Ill 
 
 21 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 22 
 
 Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 
 
 " No nide sound shall reach thine ear, 
 
 Armor's clang or war-steed champing, 
 Trump nor pibroch summon here 
 
 Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. 
 Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 
 
 At the daybreak from the fallow, 
 And the bittern sound his drum, 
 
 Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
 Ruder sounds shall none be near, 
 Guards nor wardens challenge here. 
 Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, 
 Shouting clans or squadrons stamping. " — 
 
 XXXII 
 
 She paused— then, blushing, led the lay 
 To grace the Stranger of the day; 
 Her mellow notes awhile prolong 
 The cadence of the flowing song, 
 Till to her lips in measured frame, 
 The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 
 
 SONG CONTINUED. 
 
 " Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, 
 
 While our slumb'rous spells iissail ye, 
 Dream not, with the rising sun. 
 
 Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
 Sleep ! the deer is in his den; 
 
 Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying, - 
 Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen. 
 
 How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
 Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, 
 Think, not of the rising sun. 
 For at dawning to assail ye. 
 Here no bugles sound reveille. " — 
 
23 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The hall was clear' d— the stranger's bed 
 
 Was there of mountahi heather spread, 
 
 Where oft a hundred guests had lain, 
 
 And dream d their forest sports again. 
 
 But vainly did the heath-flower shed 
 
 Its moorland fragrance round his head; 
 
 Not Ellen's spell had lull'd to rest 
 
 The fever of his troubled breast. 
 
 In broken dreams the image rose 
 
 Of varied perils, pains, and woes: 
 
 His steed now flounders in the brake, 
 
 Now sinks his barge upon the lake; 
 
 Now leader of a broken host, 
 
 His standard falls, his honor's lost 
 
 Then,— from my couch may heavenly might 
 
 Chase that worse phantom of the night ! — • 
 
 Again return 'd the scenes of youth, 
 
 Of confident, undoubting truth; 
 
 Again his soul he ititercha>^ged 
 
 "With friends whose hearts were long ostr inged; 
 
 They come, in dim procession led, 
 
 The cold, the faithless, and the dead: 
 
 As warm each hand, < ach brow as gay, 
 
 As if they parted yesterday. 
 
 And doubt distracts him at the view, 
 
 Oh, were his senses false or true ! 
 
 Dream' d he of death or broken vow, 
 
 Or is it all a vision now ? 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 At length, with Ellen in a grove 
 He seem'd to walk, and speak of love: 
 She listen' d with a blush and sigh; 
 His suit was warm, his hopes were high. 
 He sought her yielded hand to clasp, 
 And a cold gaimtlet met his grasp; 
 

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 XXXEL. 
 
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 The phantom's sex was changed and gone, 
 
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 With darken 'd cheek and threatening eyes, 
 
 The grisly visage, stern and hoar, 
 
 To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 
 
 He woke, and, panting with affright, 
 
 Recall' d the vision of the night. 
 
 The hearth's decaying brands were red, 
 
 And deep and dusky lustre shed. 
 
 Half showing, half concealing all 
 
 The uncouth trophies of the hall. 
 
 Mid those the stranger fix'd his eye, 
 
 Where that huge falchion hung on high. 
 
 And thoughts on thoughts, a countless t])rong, 
 
 Rush'd, chasing countless thoughts along, 
 
 Until the giddy whirl to cure. 
 
 He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 The wild-rose, eglantine, and broom, 
 Wasted around their lich perfume; 
 The birch -trees wept in fragrant balm, 
 The aspens slept beneath the calm; 
 The silver light, with quivering glance, 
 Play'd on the water's still expanse- 
 Wild were the heart whose passions' sway 
 Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 
 He felt its calm, that warrior guest, 
 While thus he communed with his breat-t: — 
 " 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 1 not frame a fever'd dream. 
 
 24 
 
25 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 But still the Douglas is the theme ? — 
 
 I'll dream no more — by manly mind 
 
 Not even in sleep is will resign' d. 
 
 My midnight orison said o'er, 
 
 I'll turn to rest, and dream no more. " — 
 
 His midnight orison he told , 
 
 A prayer with every bead of gold, 
 
 Consign' d to heaven his cares and woes, 
 
 And sunk in undisturb'd repose: 
 
 Until the heath-cock shrilly crew. 
 
 And morning dawn'd on Ben-venue. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 26 
 
 CANTO SECOND. 
 
 THE ISLAND. 
 
 I. 
 
 At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 
 
 'Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay, 
 All nature's children feel the matin spring 
 
 Of life reviving, with reviving day; 
 And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 
 
 Wafting the stranger on his way again, 
 Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray,^ 
 
 And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, 
 Mix'd with the sounding harp, white-haird Allan- 
 bane ! 
 
 SONG. 
 
 *' Not faster yonder rowers' might 
 Flings from their oars the spray. 
 
 Not faster yonder rippling bright, 
 
 That tracks the shallop's course in light, 
 Melts in the lake away, 
 
 Than men from memory erase 
 
 The benefits of former days; 
 
 Then, Stranger, go! good speed tlie while, 
 
 Nor think again of the lonely isle. 
 "High place to thee in royal court, 
 
27 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 High place in battle line, 
 Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport, 
 Where Beauty sees the brave resoit, 
 
 The honor'd meed be thhie ! 
 True be thy sword, thy friend t^incere, 
 Thy lady constant, kuid, and dear, 
 And lost in love's and friendship's smile, 
 Be memory of the lonely isle. 
 III. 
 
 SONG CONTINUED. 
 
 *' But if beneath yon southern sky 
 
 A plaided strange r 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 in life's uncertain main 
 
 Mishap shall mar thy 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 kindled worth shall smile 
 To greet thee in the lonely isle. " 
 
 IV. 
 
 As died the sounds upon the tide, 
 The shallop reach' d the main-land side, 
 And ere his onward way he took, 
 The stranger cast a lingering look, 
 Where easily his eye might reach 
 The Harper on the islet beach, 
 Reclined against a blighted tree, 
 As wasted, gray, and worn as he. 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 28 
 
 To minstrel meditation given, 
 
 His reverend brow v^as raised to lieaven, 
 
 As from tlie rising smi to claim 
 
 A sparkle of inspiring flame. 
 
 His liand, reclined upon the wire, 
 
 Seem'd watching the awakening fire; 
 
 So still he sate, as those who wait 
 
 Till judgment speak the doom of fate; 
 
 So still, as if no breeze might dare 
 
 To lift one lock of hoary hair; 
 
 So still, as life itself were fled, 
 
 In the last sound his harp had sped. 
 
 V. 
 Upon a rock with lichens wild, 
 Beside him Ellen sate and smiled. — 
 Smiled she to see the stately drake 
 Lead forth his fleet upon the lake. 
 While her vexed spaniel, from the beach, 
 Bay'd at the prize beyond his reach! 
 Yet tell me then the maid who knows. 
 Why deepn'd on her cheek the rose ? — 
 Forgive, forgive. Fidelity ! 
 Perchance the maiden smiled to see 
 Yon parting lingerer wave adieu. 
 And stop and turn to wave anew; 
 And, lovely ladies, ere your ire 
 Condemn the heroine of my lyre, 
 Show me the fair would scorn to spy 
 And prize such conquest of her eye ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 While yet he loiter' d on the spot. 
 It seem'd as Ellen mark'd him not. 
 But when he turn'd him to the glade. 
 One courteous parting sign she made; 
 And after, oft the knight would say. 
 That not when prize of festal day 
 
29 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Was dealt him by the brightest fair 
 
 Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, 
 
 So highly did his bosom swell, 
 
 As at that simple mute farewell. 
 
 Now with a trusty mountain guide, 
 
 And his dark stag- hounds by his side, 
 
 He parts — the maid, unconscious still. 
 
 Watch' d him wind slowly round the hill; 
 
 But when his stately form was bid. 
 
 The guardian in her bosom chid — 
 
 "Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid ?" 
 
 'Twasthus upbraiding conscience said: — 
 
 " Not so had Malcolm idly hung 
 
 On the smooth phrase of southern tongue; 
 
 Not so had Malcolm strain' d his eye 
 
 Another step than thine to spy. " 
 
 "Wake, Allan-bane ! ' aloud she cried 
 
 To the old Minstrel by her side, — 
 
 "Arouse thee from thy moody dream! 
 
 I'll give thy harp heroic theme, 
 
 And warm thee with a noble name; 
 
 Pour forth the glory of the Gra?me. "i 
 
 Scarce from her lips the word had rush'd, 
 
 When deep the conscious maiden blush'd; 
 
 For of his clan, in hall and bower. 
 
 Young Malcolm Gramme was held the flower. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Minstrel waked his harp— three times 
 Arose the well-known martial chimes. 
 And thrice their high heroic pride 
 In melancholy murmurs died. 
 "Vainly thou bid'st, noble maid' " 
 Clasping his wither' d hands, he said, 
 " Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain, 
 Tliough all unwont to bid in vain 
 Alas ! than mine a mightier hand 
 
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I 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 30 i 
 
 Has timed my harp, my strings has spaun'd; 
 
 I touch the chords of joy, but low 
 
 And mournful answer notes of woe; 
 
 And the proud march, which victois tread, 
 
 Sinks in the wailing for the dead. 
 
 well for me, if mine alone, 
 
 That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! 
 
 If, as my tuneful fathers said. 
 
 This harp, which erst St. Modan sway'd, 
 
 Can thus its master's fate foretell, 
 
 Then welcome be the minstrel's knell! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 "But ah! dear lady, thus it sigh'd 
 
 The eve tliy sainted mother died; 
 
 And such the sounds which, while I strove 
 
 To wake a lay of war or love, 
 
 Came marring all the festal mirth. 
 
 Appalling me who gave them hirth. 
 
 And, disobedient to my call, 
 
 Wail'd loud through Both well's banner' d hall, 
 
 Ere Douglases, to ruin driven. 
 
 Were exiled from their native heaven. » — 
 
 Oh! if yet worse mishap and woe 
 
 My master's house must undergo, 
 
 Or aught but weal to Ellen fair. 
 
 Brood ill these accents of despair. 
 
 No future bard, sad Harp ! shall fling 
 
 Triumph or rapture from thy string; 
 
 One short, one final strain shall flow, 
 
 Fraught with unutterable woe. 
 
 Then shiver' d shall thy fragments lie, 
 
 Thy master cast him down and die. " 
 
 IX. 
 
 Soothing she answer' d him, " Assuage, 
 Mine honor' d friend, the fears of age; 
 All melodies to thee are known, 
 
31 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The 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. 
 
 My sire, in native virtue great, 
 
 Resigning lordship, lands, and state, 
 
 Not then to fortune more resign' d, 
 
 Than yonder oak might give the wind; 
 
 The graceful foliage storms may reave, 
 
 The noble stem they cannot grieve. 
 
 For me" — she stoop'd, and, looking round. 
 
 Plucked a blue hare-bell from the ground, 
 
 '' For me, whose memory scarce conveys 
 
 An image of more splendid days. 
 
 This little flower, that loves the lea, 
 
 May well my simple emblem be; 
 
 It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose 
 
 That in the king's own garden grows, 
 
 And when I place it in my hair, 
 
 Allan, a bard is bound to swear 
 
 He ne'er saw coronet so fair." — 
 
 Then playfully the chap let wild 
 
 She wreath' d in her dark locks, and smiled. 
 
 Her smile, her speech, with winning sway, 
 Wiled the old harper's mood away. 
 With such a look as hermits throw 
 When angels stoop to soothe their woe. 
 He gazed, till fond regret and pride 
 Thrill'd to a tear, then thus replied: 
 " Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. ^2 
 
 The rank, the honors thou has lost ! 
 Oh might I live to see thee grace, 
 In Scotland's court, thy hirthiight place, 
 To see my favorite's step advance, 
 The lightest in, the courtly dance, 
 The cause of every gallant's sigh, 
 And leading star of every eye, 
 And theme of every minstrel's art, 
 The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!" i— 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Fair dreams are these, " the maiden cried, 
 (Light was her accent, yet she sighed;) 
 " Yet is this mossy rock to me 
 Worth splendid chair and canopy; 
 Nor would my footsteps spring more gay 
 In courtly dance than blithe strathspey. 
 Nor half so pleased mine ear incline 
 To royal minstrel's lay as thine; 
 And then for suitors proud and high, 
 To head before my conquering eye, — 
 Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt say, 
 That grim Sir Koderick owns its sway. 
 The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride, 
 The terror of Loch Lomond's side, 
 "Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 
 A Lennox foray— for a day. " — 
 
 XII. 
 
 The ancient bard his glee repress'd: 
 **I'll 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;2 
 I saw, when back the dirk he drew, 
 Courtiers give place before the stride 
 Of the undaunted homicide; 
 And since, though outlaw' d, hath his hand 
 
33 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 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, 
 
 Disown'd by every noble peer, 
 
 Even the rude refuge we have here? 
 
 Alas, this wild marauding Chief 
 
 Alone might hazard our rtlief, 
 
 And now thy maiden charms expand, 
 
 Looks for his guerdon in thy hand; 
 
 Full soon may d ispensation sought, 
 
 To back his sui t, 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' 1 1 so dear, 
 
 That thou might'st guide with silken thread, 
 
 Slave of thy will, this chirftain dread; 
 
 Yet, loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! 
 
 Thy hand is on a lion's mane, " — 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Minstrel, " the maid rei lied, and high 
 Her ftither's soul glanced from her eye^ 
 " My debts to Roderick's house I know: 
 All that a mother could bestow. 
 To Lady Margaret's care I owe. 
 Since first an orphan in the wild, 
 She sorrow'd o'er her si^ter's child; 
 To her brave chieftain son, from ire 
 Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, 
 A deeper, holier debt is owed. 
 And, could I pay it with my blood, 
 Allan ! Sir Roderick should command 
 My blood, my life— but not my hand. 
 Rather with Ellen Douglas dwell 
 A votaress In Maronnan's cell;' 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 M 1 
 
 Kntlicr tliiougli realms beyoud the sea, 
 Seeking the world's cold charity, 
 Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, 
 And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, 
 An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 
 Than wed the man she cannot love. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 "Thou shakest, go d friend, thy Iresses 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 ji^alous transport, chafe his blood: 
 I grant him true to friendly band, 
 As is his claymore to his hand: 
 But oh ! 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 my father fought, 
 I honor, as his daughter ought; 
 But can I clasp it leeking red. 
 From peasmts slaughter'd in their shed? 
 No! wildly while his virtues gleam. 
 They make his passions darker seem. 
 And flash along his spirit high, 
 Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 
 While yet a child, — and children know, 
 Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — 
 Ishudder'd at his brow of gloom, 
 His shadowy inlaid, and sable plume; 
 A maiden grown, I ill could bear 
 4 
 
35 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 His hauglity mien and lorldly air; 
 
 But, if thou joia'st a suitor's claim, 
 
 In serious mood, to Roderick's name, 
 
 I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er 
 
 A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 
 
 To change such odious iheme were best, 
 
 What think' st thou of our stranger guest ?" 
 
 XV. 
 
 " What think I of him ?— woe the while 
 
 That brought such wanderer to our isle ! 
 
 Thy father's battle-brand of yore 
 
 For Tine-man forged by fairy lore,i 
 
 What time he leagued, no longer foes, 
 
 His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, 
 
 Did, self-unscabbered, foreshow 
 
 The footstep of a secret foe. 2 
 
 If courtly spy had harbor'd here, 
 
 What may we for the Douglas fear ? 
 
 What for this island, deem'd of old, 
 
 Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold ! 
 
 If neitlier spy nor foe, I pray 
 
 What yet may jealous Roderick say ? 
 
 — Nay, wave not thy disdainful head ! 
 
 Bethink thee of the discord dread 
 
 That kindled when a Beltane game 
 
 Thou led'st the dance wdth Malcolm Grffime; 
 
 Still, though thy sire the peace renew' d. 
 
 Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud; 
 
 Beware !— But ha-k, what sounds are these? 
 
 My dull ears catch no faltering breeze, 
 
 No weeping birch, nor aspens wake, 
 
 Nor breath is dimpling in the lake. 
 
 Still is the canna's^ hoary beard, 
 
 Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 
 
 And hark again ! some pipe of war 
 

 35 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 36 
 
 Sends the bold pibroch from afar. " — 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Far up the lengthen 'd lake were spied 
 
 Four darkening specks upon the tide, 
 
 That, slow enlarging on the view. 
 
 Four mann'd and masted barges grew, 
 
 And hearing downwards from Glengyle, 
 
 Steered full upon the lonely isle; 
 
 The point of Brianchoil they pass'd. 
 
 And, to the windward as they cast. 
 
 Against the sun they gave to shine 
 
 The bold Sir Roderick's banner'd Pine. 
 
 Nearer and nearer as they bear. 
 
 Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. 
 
 Now might you see the tartans brave. 
 
 And plaids and plumage dance and wave; 
 
 Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 
 
 As his tough oar the rower plies; 
 
 See, flashing at each sturdy stroke, 
 
 The wave ascending into smoke; 
 
 See the proud pipers on the bow. 
 
 And mark the gaudy .streamers flow 
 
 From their loud chanters^ down, and sweep 
 
 The furrow' d bosom of the deep. 
 
 As. rushing through the lake amain, 
 
 They plied the ancient Highland strain. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Ever, as on they bore, more loud 
 
 And louder rung the pibroch proud. 2 
 
 At first the sound, by distance tame, 
 
 Mellow' d along the waters came, 
 
 And, lingering long by cape and bay, 
 
 Wail'd every harsher note away ; 
 
 Then, bursting bolder on the ear, 
 
 The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear; 
 
37 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Those thrilling sounds, that call the might 
 Of old Clan- Alpine to the tight. 
 Thick heat the rapid notes, as when 
 The mustering hundreds shake the glen, 
 And, hurrying at the signal dread, 
 The hatter' d earth returns (heir tread. 
 Then prelude light, of livelier tone, 
 Express' d their merry marching on, 
 Ere peal of closing battle rose, 
 With mingled outcry, bhrieks, and blows; 
 And mimic din of stroke and ward. 
 As broadsword upon target jnrr'd; 
 And groaning pause, ere yet again. 
 Condensed, the battle yell'd amain 
 The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 
 Retreat borne headlong into rout. 
 And bursts of triumpli, to declare 
 Clan- Alpine's conquest— all were there. 
 Nor ended thus the strain; but slow, 
 Sunk in a moan prolong' d and low. 
 And changed the conquering clarion swell, 
 For wild lament o'er those that fell. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The war-pipes ceased; but lake and hill 
 Were busy with their echoes still; 
 And, when they slept, a vocal strain 
 Bade their hoarse chorus wake again. 
 While loud a hundred clansmen raise 
 Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 
 Each boatman, bending to his oar, 
 With measured sweep the burthen bore, 
 III such wild cadence, as the breeze 
 Makes through December's leafless trees. 
 The chorus first covdd Allan know, 
 " Roderigh Vich Alpine, ho ! ieroe!" 
 And near, and nearer as they row'd, 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 38 
 
 DistiDct the martial ditty flow'd. 
 XIX. 
 
 BOAT SONG, 
 
 Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! 
 
 Honor' d and bless' d be the ever-green Pine ! 
 Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
 Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line ! 
 
 Heaven send it happy dew, 
 
 Earth lend it sap anew, 
 Gayly to bourgeon, and proudly to grow, 
 
 While every Highland glen 
 
 Sends our shout back agen, 
 " Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe !" » 
 
 Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, 
 
 Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; 
 When the whirlwind has stripp'd every leaf on the mountain, 
 The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. 
 
 Moor'd in the rifted rock, 
 
 Proof to the tempest's shock. 
 Firmer he j'oots him the ruder it blow; 
 
 Menteith and Breadalbane, then. 
 
 Echo his praise again, 
 " Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe !" 
 
 XX 
 
 Proudly our pibroch has thrill'd in Glen Fruin, 
 
 And Banuochar's groans to our slogan replied; 
 Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, 
 And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side.i 
 
 Widow and Saxon maid 
 
 Long shall lament our raid, 
 Think of Clan-Alpine, with fear and with woe; 
 
 Lennox andLeven-glen. 
 
 Shake when they hear again, 
 " Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe !" 
 
39 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands ! 
 
 Stretch to your oars for the ever-greeu Pine ! 
 ! that the rose-bud that giaces yon islands, 
 
 Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine ! 
 
 that some seedling gem, 
 
 Worthy such noble stem, 
 Honor'd and bless'd in their shadow might grow, 
 
 Loud should Clan-Alpine then 
 
 Ring from her deepmost glen, 
 "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroel" 
 
 XXI. 
 
 With all her joyful female band, 
 Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 
 Loose on the breeze their tresses flew. 
 And high their snowy arms they threw. 
 As echoing back with shrill acclaim 
 And chorus wild the Chieftain's name; 
 While, prompt to please, with mother's art. 
 The darling passion of his heart. 
 The Dame called Ellen to the strand. 
 To greet her kinsman ere he land; 
 " Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, 
 And shun to wreath a victor's brow?" 
 Reluctantly and slow, the maid 
 The unwelcome summoning obey'd, 
 And, when a distant bugle rung, 
 In the mid-path aside she sprung :— 
 "List, Allan-bane ! from main-land cast, 
 I hear my father's signal blast. 
 Be ours," she cried, " the skiff to guide, 
 And waft him from the mountain-side. " — 
 Then, like a sunbeam swift and bright, 
 She darted to her shallop light, 
 And, eagerly while Roderick scanti'd, 
 For her dear form, his mother's band, 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 40 
 
 The islet far behind her lay, 
 And she had landed in the bay. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Some feelings are to mortals given, 
 
 With less of earth in them than heaven; 
 
 And if there be a human tear 
 
 From passion's dross refined and clear, 
 
 A tear so limpid and so meek, 
 
 It would not stain an angel's cheek, 
 
 'Tis that which pious fathers shed 
 
 Upon a duteous daughter's head ! 
 
 And as the Douglas t o his breast 
 
 His darling Ellen closely press' d, 
 
 Such holy drops her tresses steep' d, 
 
 Though 'twas a hero's eye that weep'd. 
 
 Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 
 
 Her filial welcomes crowded iiung, 
 
 Mark'd she, that fear (affection's proof) 
 
 Still held a graceful youth aloof; 
 
 No ! not till Douglas named his name, 
 
 Although the youth was Malcolm Gramme. 
 
 XXIII. 
 Allan, with wi-tful look the while, 
 Mark'd Roderick landing on the isle; 
 His master piteously he eyed, 
 Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride, 
 1hen dash'd, with hasty hand, away 
 From his dimm'd eye the gathering spray; 
 And Douglas, as his hand he laid 
 On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said, 
 " Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy 
 In my poor follower's glistening eye ? 
 I'll tell thee:— he recalls the day, 
 When in my praise he led the lay 
 O'er the arch'd gate of Both well proud, 
 While many a minstrel answer'd loud, 
 
 I 
 
41 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 When Percy's Norman ptnnon, 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 i>roud 
 
 Was I of all that marshall'd crowd, 
 
 Though the waned crescent own'd my might, 
 
 And in my train troop'd lord and knight, 
 
 Though Blantyre bymn'd her holiest lays. 
 
 And Both well's bards flung batk my praise, 
 
 As when this old man's silent tear, 
 
 And this poor maid's affection dear, 
 
 A welcome give more kind and true 
 
 Than aught my better fortunes knew. 
 
 Forgive, my friend, a father's boast; 
 
 ! it out-begga? all I lost !" — 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Deliglitful praise ! — Like summer rose, 
 That brighter in the dew-drop glows, 
 The bashful maiden's cheek appear'd. 
 For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 
 The flush of shamefaced joy to hide. 
 The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide; 
 The loved caresses of the maid 
 The dogs with crouch and whimper paid; 
 And, at her whistle, on her hand 
 The falcon took his favorite stand, 
 Closed his dark wing, relax' d his eye. 
 Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 
 And trust, while in such guise she stood. 
 Like fabled Goddess of the Wood, 
 That if a father's partial thought 
 O'erweigh'd her worth and beauty aught, 
 Well might the lover's judgment fail. 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 42 
 
 To balance with a juster scale; 
 
 For with each secret glance he stole, 
 
 The fond enthusiast sent his soul. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Of stature fair, and slender frame, 
 
 But firmly knit, was Malcolm Grccme. 
 
 The belted plaid and tartan hose 
 
 Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose; 
 
 His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, 
 
 Curl'd closely round his bonnet blue; 
 
 Train 'd to the chase, his eagle eye 
 
 The ptarmigan in snow could spy; 
 
 Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, 
 
 He knew, through Lennox and Menteith; 
 
 Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe, 
 
 When Malcolm bent his sounding bow. 
 
 And scarce that doe, though wing'd with fear, 
 
 Outstripp'd in speed the moiuitaineer; 
 
 Right up Ben-Lomond could he press. 
 
 And not a sob his toil confess. 
 
 His form accorded with a mind 
 
 Lively and ardent, frank and kind; 
 
 A blither heart, till Ellen came, 
 
 Did never love nor sorrow tame; 
 
 It danced as lightsome in his breast 
 
 As play'd the feather on his crest. 
 
 Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth. 
 
 His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth. 
 
 And bards, who saw his features bold, 
 
 When kindled by the tales of old. 
 
 Said, were that youth to manhood grown. 
 
 Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown 
 
 Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, 
 
 But qnail to that of Malcolm Gra?me. 
 
 XXVT. 
 
 Now back they wend their watery way. 
 
43 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 And, " my sire !" did Ellen say, 
 
 * ' Why urge thy chase so far astray ? 
 
 And why so late return 'd ? And why " — 
 
 The rest was in her speaking eye. 
 
 " My child, the chase I follow far, 
 
 'Tis mimicry of noble war; 
 
 And with that gallant pastime reft ■ 
 
 Where all of Douglas I have left. 
 
 I met young Malcolm as I stray'd 
 
 Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade; 
 
 Nor stray'd I safe; for, all around, 
 
 Hunters and horsemen scour' d the ground. 
 
 This youth, though still a royal ward, 
 
 Kisk'd 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. 
 
 Thin must he seek Strath-Endrick glen, 
 
 Nor peril aught for me agen. " — 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, 
 Redden' d at sight of Malcolm Grseme, 
 Yet not in action, word, or eye, 
 Fail'd aught in hospitality. 
 In talk and sport they whiled away 
 The morning of that summer day ; 
 But at high noon a courier light 
 Held secret parley with the knight, 
 AVhose moody aspect soon declared 
 That evil were the news he heard. 
 Deep thought seem'd toiling in his head ; 
 Yet was the evening banquet made. 
 Ere he assembled round the flame, 
 His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme, 
 And Ellen too ; then cast around 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
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 His eyes, then fixed tliem on tlie ground, 
 As studying phrase that might avail 
 Best to convey unpleasant tale. 
 Long with his dagger's hilt he play'd, 
 Then raised his haughty brow, and said: 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Short be my speech; — nor time affords, 
 
 Nor my plain temper, glozing words. 
 
 Kinsman and father,- if such name 
 
 Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim; 
 
 Mine honor' d mother;— Ellen — why, 
 
 My cousin, turn away thine eye? — 
 
 And Grteme; in whom I hope to know 
 
 Full soon a noble friend or foe. 
 
 When age shall give thee thy command. 
 
 And leading in thy native land, — 
 
 List all ! — The King's vindictive pride 
 
 Boasts to have tamed the Border-side,' 
 
 Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came 
 
 To share their monarch's sylvan game. 
 
 Themselves in bloody toils were snared; 
 
 And when the banquet they prepaied, 
 
 And wide their loyal portals flung, 
 
 O'er tlu-ir own gate-way struggling hung. 
 
 Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead, 
 
 From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed, 
 
 Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide, 
 
 AMd from the silver Teviot's side; 
 
 The dales, where martial clans did ride. 
 
 Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 
 
 This tvrant of the Scottish throne. 
 
 So faithless, and so ruthless known, 
 
 Now hither comes; his end the same. 
 
 The same pretext of sylvan game 
 
 What grace for Highland Chief-*, judge ye 
 
 By fate of Border chivalry. 2 
 
45 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Yet more; amid Gleufiulas green, 
 Douglas, thy stately form was seen. 
 This by espial sure I know: 
 Your counsel in the straight I show. " — 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Ellen and Margaret fearfully 
 
 Sought comfort in each other' s eye, 
 
 Then turn'd their ghastly look, each one, 
 
 This to her sire, that to her son. 
 
 The hasty color went and came 
 
 In the bold cheek of Malcolm Grseme; 
 
 But from his glance it well appear' d, 
 
 'Twas but for Ellen that he fear'd; 
 
 While sorrowful, but undismay'd, 
 
 The Douglas thus his couubcl said: 
 
 "Brave Koderick, though the tempest roar, 
 
 It may but thunder and pass o'er; 
 
 Nor will I here remain an hour. 
 
 To draw the lightning on thy bower. 
 
 For well thou know'st, at this gray heafl 
 
 The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 
 
 For thee, who, at thy King's command, 
 
 Canst aid him with a gallant band. 
 
 Submission, homage, humbled pride, 
 
 Shall turn the monarch's wrath aside. 
 
 Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 
 
 Ellen and I will seek, apart. 
 
 The refuge of some forest cell; 
 
 There, like the hunted quarry, dwell. 
 
 Till, on the mountain and the moor. 
 
 The stern pursuit be pass'd and o'er. " — 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " No, by mine honor !" Roderick said, 
 " So help me Heaven, and my good blade ! 
 No, never ! Blasted be yon Pine, 
 My fathers' ancient crest and mine, 
 

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THE LADY OF THE L.\KE. 
 
 4G 
 
 If from its shade iu danger part 
 
 The lineage of the Bleeding Heart ! 
 
 Hear my blunt speech Grant me this maid 
 
 To wife, thy counsel to mine aid; 
 
 To Douglas, leagued with Eoderick Dhu, 
 
 Will friends and allies flock enow; 
 
 Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 
 
 Will bind to us each Western Chief. 
 
 When the loud pipes my bridal tell. 
 
 The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, 
 
 The guards shall start in Stirling's porch; 
 
 And, when I light the nuptial torch, 
 
 A thousand villages in flames 
 
 Shall scare the slumbers of King James ! 
 
 — Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away, 
 
 And, mother, cease these signs, I pray; 
 
 I meant not all my heat might say, — 
 
 Small need of inroad, or of fight, 
 
 When the sage Douglas may unite 
 
 Each mountain clan in friendly band, 
 
 To guard the passes of their land, 
 
 Till the foil'd King, fiom pathltss glen, 
 
 Shall bootless turn him home agen. " 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 There are who have, at midnight hour, 
 
 In slumber scaled a dizzy tower, 
 
 And. on the verge that beetled o'er 
 
 The ocean-tide's incessant roar, 
 
 Dream 'd calmly out their dangerous dream, 
 
 Till vvaken'd by the morning beam; 
 
 When dazzled by the eastern glow, 
 
 Such startler cast his glance below, 
 
 And saw unmeasured- depth around, 
 
 And heard unintermitted sound, 
 
 And thought the battled fence so frail, 
 
 It waved like cobweb in the gale; — 
 
41 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Amid his senses' giddy wlieel, 
 
 Did he not desperate impulse feel, 
 
 Headlong to plunge himself below, 
 
 And meet the woist his fears foreshow ? — 
 
 Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound, 
 
 As sudden ruin yawn'd around, 
 
 By crossing terrors wildly toss'd. 
 
 Still for the Douglas fearing most, 
 
 Could sc.irce the desperate thought withstand, 
 
 To buy his safety with her hand. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy 
 
 In Ellen's quivering lip and eye, 
 
 And eager rose to speak — but ere 
 
 His tongue could hurry forth his fear. 
 
 Had Douglas mark'd the hectic strife. 
 
 Where death seem'd combating with life, 
 
 For to her cheek, in feverish flood, 
 
 One instant rush'd the throbbing blood. 
 
 Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, 
 
 Left its domain as wan as clay. 
 
 " Roderick, enough ! enough !" he cried, 
 
 " My daughter cannot be thy bride; 
 
 Not that the blush to wooer dear. 
 
 Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 
 
 It may not be — forgive her, Chief, 
 
 Nor hazard aught for our relief. 
 
 Against his sovereign, Doulgas ne'er 
 
 Will level a rebellious spear. 
 
 'Twas I that taught his youthful hand 
 
 To rein a steed and wield a brand. 
 
 I see him yet, the princely boy ! 
 
 Not Ellen more my pride and joy; 
 
 I love him still, despite my wrongs, 
 
 By hasty wrath and slanderous tongues. 
 
 O seek the grace you well may find. 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. tt8 
 
 Without a cause to mine combined. " 
 
 XXXIII 
 Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode; 
 The waving of his tartans broad, 
 And darken' d brow, where wounded pride 
 With ire and disappointment vied. 
 Seem'd, by the torch's gloomy light, 
 Like the ill demon of the night, 
 Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway 
 Upon the nighted pilgrim's way; 
 But, unrequited Love ! thy dart 
 Plunged deepest its envenom 'd smart, 
 And Koderick, with thine anguish stung, 
 At length the hand of Douglas wrung, 
 While eyes, that mock'd at tears before. 
 With bitter drops were running o'er. 
 The death-pangs of long-cheiish'd hope 
 Scarce in that ample breast had scope. 
 But, struggling with his spirit proud, 
 Convulsive heav'd its checkei'd shroud, 
 While every sob — so mute were all- 
 Was heard distinctly through the hall; 
 The son's despair, the mother's look, 
 111 might the gentle Ellen brook; 
 She rose, and to her side there came, 
 To aid her parting steps, the Grame. 
 
 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 inlaid: — 
 '• Back, beardless boy !" he sternly said, 
 
49 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 "Back, minioa ! holdst thou thus at naught 
 The lesson I so lately taught ? 
 This roof, the Douglas, and that maid. 
 Thank thou for punishment delayd. " — 
 Eager as greyhound on his game. 
 Fiercely with Roderick grappled Grseme. 
 " Perish my name, if aught afford 
 Its chieftain safety, save his sword!" 
 Thus as they strove, their desperate hand 
 'Griped to the dagger or the hrand, 
 And death had been— but Douglas rose, 
 And thrust between the struggling foes 
 His giant strength:—'" Chieftains, forego ! 
 I bold the first who strikes, my foe — 
 Madmen, forbear your frantic jar ! 
 What ! is the Douglas fallen so far, 
 His daughter's hand is doom'd 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, 
 
 Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung, 
 
 And Malcolm heard bis Ellen's scream, 
 
 As falter'd through terrific dream. 
 
 Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, 
 
 And veil'd his wrath in scornful word. 
 
 " Rest safe till moraing, pity 'twere 
 
 Such cheek should feel the midnight air !" ^ 
 
 Then may est thou to James Stuart tell, 
 
 Roderick will keep the lake and fell, 
 
 Nor lackey, with his free-bom clan, 
 
 The pageant pomp of earthly man. 
 
 ■More would he of Clan-Alpine know. 
 

 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 50 
 
 Thou canst our strength and passes show.— 
 
 Malise, what ho !"- — his henchman 2 came ; 
 
 " Give our safe-conduct to the Grteme. " 
 
 Young Malcolm answer' d, cahn and bold, 
 
 " Fear nothing for thy favorite hold. 
 
 The spot an angel deigned to grace, 
 
 Is bless' d, though robbers haunt the place ; 
 
 Thy churlish courtesy for those 
 
 Keserve, who fear to be thy foes. 
 
 As safe to me the mountain way 
 
 At midnight, as in blaze of day. 
 
 Though, with his boldest at his back, 
 
 Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. — 
 
 Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen,— nay, 
 
 Naught here of parting will I say. 
 
 Earth does not hold a lonesome glen. 
 
 So secret, but we meet agen — 
 
 Chieftain ! we too shall find an hour. ' '— 
 
 He said, and left the sylvan bower. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Old Allan follow'd to the strand, 
 
 (Such was the Douglas's command,) 
 
 And anxious told, how, on the morn, 
 
 The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, 
 
 The Fiery Cross should circle o'er 
 
 Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor. 
 
 Much were the peril to the Grgeme, 
 
 From those who to the signal came ; 
 
 Far up the lake 'twere safest land, 
 
 Himself would row him to the strand. 
 
 He gave his counsel to the wind, 
 
 While Malcolm did, imheeding bind. 
 
 Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roll'd, 
 
 His ample plaid in tighten' d fold, 
 
 And stripp'd his limbs to such array 
 
 As best might suit the watery way. 
 
51 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Then spoke abrupt : " Farewell to thee, 
 Pattern of old fidelity !' ' 
 'J'he minstrel's hand he kindly press'd, — 
 " ! could I point a place of rest ! 
 My sovereign holds in ward my land, 
 My uncle leads my vassal band ; 
 To tame his foes, his friends to aid, 
 Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade ; 
 Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme, 
 Who loves the Chieftain of his name, 
 Not long ishall honored Douglas dwell, 
 Like hunted stag, in mountain cell ; 
 Nor, ere yon pride-swoll'n robber dare, — 
 I may not give the rest to air ! — 
 Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him naught, 
 Not the poor service of a boat, 
 To waft me to yon mountain-side :" 
 Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 
 Bold o'er the flood his head he bore, 
 And stoutly steer' d him from the shore ; 
 And Allan s train' d his anxious eye, 
 Far 'mid the lake his form to spy. 
 Darkening across each puny wave. 
 To which the moon her silver gave, 
 Fast as the cormorant could skim, 
 The swimmer plied each active limb ; 
 Then landing in the moonlight dell. 
 Loud shouted of his weal to tell. 
 The Minstrel heard the far halloo, 
 And joyful from the shore withdrew. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 52 
 
 CANTO THIED. 
 
 THE GATHERING. 
 I. 
 
 Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore, 
 
 Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 
 And told our marvelling boyhood legends store, 
 
 Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or sea, 
 How are they blotted from the things that be ! 
 
 How few, all weak and wither' d of their force. 
 Wait, on the verge of dark eternity. 
 
 Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, 
 To sweep them from our sight ! Time rolls his 
 
 ceaseless course. 
 Yet live there still who can remember well. 
 
 How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, 
 Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell, 
 
 And solitary heath, the signal knew ; 
 And fast the faithful clan around him drew, 
 
 What time the warning note was keenly wound, 
 What time aloft their kindred banner flew. 
 
 While clamorous war-pipes yell'd the gathering 
 sound, 
 And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, 
 round. ' 
 
 II. 
 
 The summer dawn's reflected hue 
 
 To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ; 
 
 Mildly and soft the western breeze 
 
 Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees, 
 
53 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, 
 
 Trembled, but dimpled not, for joy ; 
 
 The momitain shadows on her breast 
 
 Were neither broken nor at rest ; 
 
 In bright uncertainty they lie, 
 
 Like future joys to Fancy's eye. 
 
 The water-lily to the light 
 
 Her chalice rear'd of silver bright ; 
 
 The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 
 
 Begemm'd with dew-drops, led her fawn ; 
 
 The gray mist left the mountain-side. 
 
 The torrent show'd its glistening pride; 
 
 Invisible in flecked sky, 
 
 The lark sent down her revelry ; 
 
 The blackbird and the speckled thrush 
 
 Good morrow gave from brake and bush ; 
 
 In answer coo'd the cushat dove 
 
 Her notes of peace, and rest, and love. 
 
 III. 
 
 No thought of peace, no thought of rest, 
 
 Assuaged the storm in Koderick's breast. 
 
 "With sheathed broadsword in bis hand. 
 
 Abrupt he paced the islet strand. 
 
 And eyed the rising sun, and laid 
 
 His hand on his impatient blade. 
 
 Beneath a rock, his vassals' care 
 
 Was prompt the ritual to prepare, 
 
 With deep and deathful meaning fraught ; 
 
 For such Antiquity had taught 
 
 Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 
 
 The Cross of F'ire should take its road. 
 
 The shrinking band stood oft aghast 
 
 At the impatient glance he cast ;— 
 
 Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 
 
 As, from the cliffs of Ben venue. 
 
 She spread her dark sails on the wind. 
 
 And high in middle heaven reclined, 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 54 
 
 With her broad shadows on the lake, 
 Silenced the warblers of the brake. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A heap of wither' d boughs was piled, 
 
 Of juniper and rowau wild, 
 
 Mingled 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 dispair ; 
 
 His naked arms and legs, seam'd o'er, 
 
 The scars of frantic penance bore. 
 
 That monk, of savage form and face. 
 
 The impending danger of his race 
 
 Had diawn from deepest solitude, 
 
 Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. 
 
 Not his the mien of Christian priest. 
 
 But Druid's, from the grave released 
 
 Whose harden'd heart and eye might bro 
 
 Oil human sacrifice to look. 
 
 And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore 
 
 Mix'd in the charms he mutter'd o'er ; 
 
 The hallow'd creed gave only worse 
 
 And deadlier emphasis of curse. 
 
 No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer, 
 
 His cave the pilgrim shunn'd with care, 
 
 Tl)e eager huntsman knew his bound, 
 
 And in mid chase call'd off his hound ; 
 
 Or if, in lonely glen or strath, 
 
 The desert-dweller met his path, 
 
 He pray'd, ami sign'd the cross between, 
 
 While terror took devotion's mien. 
 
 Of Brian's birth strange tales were told.^ 
 His mother watch'd a midnight fold, 
 
55 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Built deep within a dieary glen, 
 
 Where scatter' d lay the bones of men, 
 
 In some forgotten battle slain, 
 
 And bleach'd by drifting wind and rain. 
 
 It might have tamed a warrior's heart, 
 
 To view such mockery of his art ! 
 
 The knot-grass fetter' d there the hand 
 
 Which once could burst an iron band ; 
 
 Beneath the broad and ample bone, 
 
 That buckler 'd heart to fear unknown, 
 
 A feeble and a timorous guest, 
 
 The fieldfare framed her lowly nest ; 
 
 There the slow blindworm left his slime 
 
 On the fleet limbs that mock'd at time ; 
 
 And there, too, lay the leader's skull, 
 
 Still wreathed with chaplet flushed and full, 
 
 For heath-bell, with her purple bloom, 
 
 Supplied the bonnet and the plume. 
 
 All night, in this sad glen, the maid 
 
 Sate shrouded in her mantle's shade : 
 
 — She said, no shepherd sought her side, 
 
 No hunter's hand her snood untied. 
 
 Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 
 
 The virgin snood did Alice wear ; 2 
 
 Gone was her maiden glee and sport, 
 
 Her maiden girdle all too short, 
 
 Nor sought she, from that fatal night, 
 
 Or holy Church or blessed rite. 
 
 But lock'd her secret in her breast, 
 
 And died in travail, unconfess'd. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Alone, among his young compeers. 
 Was Brian from his infant years ; 
 A moody and heart-broken boy, 
 Estranged from sympathy and joy, 
 Bearing each taunt wliich careless tongue 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 56 
 
 On his mysterious liuefige fluug. 
 
 Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, 
 
 To wood and stream his hap to wail, 
 
 Till, frantic, he as truth received 
 
 What of his birth the crowd believed, 
 
 And sought, in mist and meteor fire. 
 
 To meet and know his Phantom Sire ! 
 
 In vain to soothe his wayward fate, 
 
 The cloister oped her pitying gate ; 
 
 III vain the learning of the age 
 
 Unclasp'd the sable -letter'd page ; 
 
 Even in its treasures he could 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'erstrung, 
 
 And heart with mystic horrors wrung, 
 
 Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, 
 
 And hid him from the haunts of men. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The desert gave him visions wild, 
 
 Such as might suit the Spectre's child. » 
 
 Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, 
 
 He watch 'd the wheeling eddies boil, 
 
 Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes 
 
 Beheld the river demon rise ; 
 
 The mountain mist took form and limb 
 
 Of noontide hag, or goblin grim ; 
 
 The midnight wind came wild and dread. 
 
 Swell' d with the voices of the dead ; 
 
 Far on the future battle-heath 
 
 His eye beheld the ranks of death : 
 
 Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurl'd. 
 
 Shaped forth a disembodied world. 
 
57 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 One lingeiina: syinpatliy of mind 
 Still bound him to the mortal kind ; 
 'i'lie only parent he could claim 
 Of ancient Alpine's liiieage 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 thunder-bolt had split the pine — 
 All augur'd 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. 
 
 'Twas all prepar'd ;— and from the rock, 
 A goat, the patriarch of the flock, 
 Before the kindling pile was laid, 
 And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. 
 Patient the sickening victim eyed 
 The life-blood ebb in crimson tide, 
 Down his clogg'd beard and shaggy limb, 
 Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 
 The grisly priest, with mrn-rnuring prayer, 
 A slender crosslet formed with care, 
 A cubit's length in measure due ; 
 The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, 
 Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave 
 Their shadows o'er Clan- Alpine's grave, 3 
 And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, 
 Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 
 The Cross, thus formed, he held on high. 
 With wasted hand and haggard eye. 
 And strange and mingled feelings woke, 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 58 
 
 While his anathema he spoke. 
 
 IX. 
 
 *' Woe to the clansman, who shall view 
 This symbol of sepulchral yew, 
 Forgetful that its branches grew 
 Where weep the heavens their holiest dew 
 
 On Alpine 's dwelling low ! 
 Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, 
 He ne'er Fhall mingle with their dust, 
 But from his sires and kindred thrust, 
 Each clansman's execration just 
 
 Shall doom him wrath and woe. " 
 He paused ; — the word the vassals took, 
 With forward step and fiery look, 
 On high their naked brands they shook. 
 Their clattering targets wildly strook ; 
 
 And first, in murmur low, 
 Then, like'the billow in his course. 
 That far to seaward finds his source, 
 And flings to shore his muster'd force, 
 Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse, 
 
 " Woe to the traitor, woe !" 
 Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew, 
 The joyous wolf from covert drew, 
 The exulting eagle scream'd afar,— 
 They knew the voice of Alpine's war. 
 
 X. 
 
 The shout was hush'd on lake and fell, 
 The Monk resumed his mutter'd spell : 
 Dismal and low its accents came. 
 The while he scathed the Cross with flame ; 
 And the few words that reach 'd the air 
 Although the holiest name was there, 
 Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 
 
 But when he shook above the crowd 
 6 
 
59 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Its kindled points, he spoke aloud :— 
 " Woe to the wretch, who fails to rear, 
 At this dread sign, the ready spear ! 
 For, as the flames this symbol sear, 
 His home, the refuge of his fear, 
 
 A kindred fate shall know ; 
 Far o'er its roof the volumed flame 
 Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, 
 While maids and matrons on his name 
 Shall call down wretchedness and shame, 
 
 And infamy and woe !" — 
 Then rose the cry of females, shrill 
 As goss- hawk's whistle on the hill, 
 Denouncing misery and ill, 
 Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 
 
 Of curses stammer' d slow ; 
 Answering, with imprecation dread, 
 ' ' Sunk be his home in embers red ! 
 And cursed be the meanest shed 
 That e'er shall hide the houseless head 
 
 We doom to want and woe !" 
 A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
 Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave ! 
 And the gray pass where birches wave, 
 
 On Beala-nam-bo. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Then deeper paused the priest anew, 
 
 And hard his laboring breath he drew. 
 
 While, with set teeth and clinched hand, 
 
 And eyes that glow'd like fiery brand, 
 
 He meditated curse more dread, 
 
 And deadlier, on that clansman's head, 
 
 Who, summon'd to his Chieftain's aid. 
 
 The signal saw and disobey'd. 
 
 The crosslet's points of sparkling wood, 
 
 He quench 'd among the bubbling blood. 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 60 
 
 And, as again the sign he reav'd, 
 Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard : 
 '• When flits this Cross from man to man, 
 Vich-AJpine's summons to his cUiu, 
 Burst he the ear that fails to heed ! 
 Palsied the foot that shuns to speed ! 
 May ravens tear the careless eyes ! 
 Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! 
 As sinks that hi ood -stream in the earth, 
 So may his heart's Wood drench his hearth ! 
 As dies in hissing gore the spark, 
 Quench thou his light, Destruction dark! 
 And he the grace to him denied, 
 Bought hy this sign to all heside !" 
 He ceased ; no echo gave agen 
 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 Lan rick 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 pi ow ; 
 
 So rapidly the bargemen row, 
 
 The bubbles, where they launch'd the boat. 
 
 Were all unbroken and afloat, 
 
 Dancing in foam and ripple still. 
 
 When it had near'd the main land 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 biand. 
 
61 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XIII. 
 Speed, Malise, speed ! the dun deer's hide 
 On fleeter foot was never tied ' 
 Speed, Malise, speed! such cnuse of haste 
 Thine active sinews never braced. 
 Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, 
 Burst down like torrent from its crest ; 
 With short and springing footstep pass 
 The trembling bog and false morass ; 
 Across the brook like roebuck bound, 
 And thread the brake like questing hound ; 
 The crag is high, the scaur is deep. 
 Yet shrink not from the desperate leap : 
 Parch' d are thy burning lips and brow, 
 Yet by the fountain pause not now ; 
 Herald of battle, fate, and fear, 
 Stretch onward in thy fleet career ! 
 The wounded hind thou track' st not now, 
 Pnrsuest not maid through greenwood bough, 
 Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace 
 With rivals in the mountain race ; 
 But danger, death, and warrior deed 
 Are in thy course — speed, Malise, speed! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Fast as the fatal symbol flies, 
 In arms the huts and hamlets rise ; 
 From winding glen, from upland brown, 
 They pour'd each hardy tenant down. 
 Nor slack 'd the messenger his pace ; 
 He show'd the sign, he named the place. 
 And, pressing forward like the wind, 
 Left clamor and surprise behind. 
 The fisherman forsook the strand. 
 The swarthy smith took dirk and brand ; 
 With changed cheer, the mower blithe 
 Loft in the half-cut swathe his scythe ; 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 62 
 
 The herds without a keeper stray 'd, 
 The plough was in mid-furrow stay'd, 
 The falc'ner tossed his hawk away, 
 The hunter left the stag at hay ; 
 Prompt at the signal of alarms, 
 Each son of Alpine rush'd to arms ; 
 So swept the tumult and affray 
 Along the margin of Achray. 
 Alas, thou lovely lake ! that e'er 
 Thy hanks should echo sounds of fear ! 
 The rocks, the hosky thickets, sleep 
 So stilly on thy bosom deep. 
 The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud, 
 Seems for the scene too gayly loud. 
 
 XY. 
 
 Speed, Malise, speed ! the lake is past, 
 
 Duncraggan's huts appear at last, 
 
 And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 
 
 Half hidden in the copse so green ; 
 
 There mayest thou rest, thy labor done. 
 
 Their Lord shall speed the signal on.— 
 
 As stoops the hawk upon his prey. 
 
 The henchman shot him down the way. 
 
 — What woful accents load the gale ? 
 
 The funeral yell, the female wail ! 
 
 A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, 
 
 A valiant warrior fights no more. 
 
 Who, in the battle or the chase. 
 
 At Roderick's side shall fill his place ! — 
 
 Within the hall, where torches' ray 
 
 Supplies the excluded beams of day, 
 
 Lies Duncan on his lowly bier. 
 
 And o'er him streams his widow's tear. 
 
 His stripling son stands mournful by. 
 
 His youngest weeps, but knows not why ; 
 
 The village maids and matrons round, 
 
 The dismal corouacli' resound. 
 
63 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XVI. 
 CORONACH, 
 
 He is gone on the mountain, 
 
 He is lost to the forest, 
 Like a summer-dried fountain, 
 
 When our need was the sorest 
 The font, re-appearing, 
 
 From the rain-drops shall borrow, 
 But to us conies no cheering, 
 
 To Duncan no morrow ? 
 
 The hand of the reaper 
 
 Takes the ears that are hoary, 
 But the voice of the weeper 
 
 Wails manhood in glory ; 
 The autumn winds rushing. 
 
 Waft the leaves that are searest. 
 But our flower was in flushing, 
 
 When blighting was nearest. 
 
 Fleet foot on the correi, » 
 Sage counsel in cumber, 
 
 Red hand in the foray, 
 • How sound is thy clumber ! 
 
 Like the dew on the mountain. 
 Like the foam on the river. 
 
 Like the bubble on the fountain, 
 Thou art gone, and forever ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 See Stumah, 2 who, the bier beside. 
 His master's corpse with wonder eyed. 
 Poor Stumah ! whom his least halloo 
 Could send like lightning o'er the dew. 
 Bristles his crest, and points his ears. 
 As if some stranger step he hears, 
 
63 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 64 
 
 'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread, 
 
 Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, 
 
 But headlong haste, or deadly fear, 
 
 Urge the precipitate career. 
 
 All stand aghast :— unheeding all, 
 
 The henchman bursts into the hall ; 
 
 Before the dead man's biei^he stood, 
 
 Held forth the Cross besmear' d with blood! 
 
 "The muster-place is Lanrick 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 be saw his mother's eye 
 
 Watch him in speechless agony, 
 
 Back to her open'd arms he flew, 
 
 Press' d on her lips a fond adieu. 
 
 " Alas !" she sobbed—" and yet, be gone. 
 
 And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son 1" 
 
 One look he cast upon the bier, 
 
 Dash'd from his eye the gathering tear, 
 
 Breathed deep, to clear his laboring breast. 
 
 And toss'd aloft his bonnet crest, 
 
 Then, like the high-bred colt, when, freed. 
 
 First he essays his fire and speed. 
 
 He vanish' d, and o'er moor and moss 
 
 Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. 
 
 Suspended was the widow's tear. 
 
 While yet his footsteps she could hear ; 
 
 And when she mark'd the henchman's eye 
 
 Wet with unwonted sympathy, 
 
 " Kinsman, " she said, " his race is run. 
 
 That should have sped thine errand on ; 
 
 The oak has fall' n— the sapling bough 
 
65 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Is all Duncraggan's shelter now ; 
 
 Yet trust I well, his duty done, 
 
 The orphan's God will guard my son.— 
 
 And you, in many a danger true. 
 
 At Duncan's hest your blades that drew. 
 
 To arms, and guard that orphan's head ! 
 
 Let babes and women wail the dead. " 
 
 Then weapon-clang, and martial call. 
 
 Resounded through the funeral hall. 
 
 While from the walls the attendant band 
 
 Snatch'd sword and targe, with hurried hand ; 
 
 And short and flitting energy 
 
 Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, 
 
 As if the sounds to warrior dear 
 
 Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. 
 
 But faded soon that borrow'd force ; 
 
 Grief claim' d his right, and tears their course. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, 
 It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. 
 O'er dale and hill the summons flew, 
 Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew ; 
 The tear that gather'd in his eye 
 He left the mountain breeze to dry ; 
 Until, where Teith's young waters roll, 
 Betwixt him and a wooded knoll, 
 That graced the sable strath with green, 
 The chapel of Saint Bride was seen. 
 Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge. 
 But Angus paused not on the edge ; 
 Though the dark waves danced dizzily, 
 Though reel'd his sympathetic eye, 
 He dash'd amid the torrent's roar ; 
 His right hand high the croslet bore, 
 His left the pole-axe grasp' d, to guide 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 66 
 
 And stay his footing in the tide. 
 He stumbled twice— the foa^ splash'd high, 
 With hoarser swell the stream raced by ; 
 And had he fall'n, — forever there, 
 Farewell Duncraggans orphan heir ! 
 But still, as if in parting life, 
 Firmer he grasp'd the Cross of strife, 
 Until the opposmg bank he gain'd, 
 And up the chapel pathway strain'd. 
 
 XX. 
 
 A blithesome rout, that morning tide. 
 Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. 
 Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 
 To Norman, heir of Armandave, 
 And, issuing from the Gothic arch, 
 The bridal now resumed their march. 
 In rude, but glad procession, came 
 Bonneted sire, and coif-clad dame ; 
 And plaided youth, with jest and jeer, 
 Which snooded maiden would not hear ; 
 And children , that, unwitting why, 
 Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ; 
 And minstrels, that in measures vied 
 Before the young and bonny bride, 
 Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose 
 The tear and blush of morning rose. 
 With virgin step, and bashful hand. 
 She held the 'kerchief's snowy band ; 
 The gallant bridegroom by her side, 
 Beheld his prize with victor's pride, 
 And the glad mother in her ear 
 Was closely whispering word of cheer. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Who meets them at the church-yard gate 
 The messenger of fear and fate ! 
 Haste in his hurried accent lies, 
 
67 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 And grief is swimming in his eyes. 
 All dripping from the recent flood, 
 Panting and travel-soil' d he stood, 
 The fatal sign of fire and sword 
 Held forth, and spoke the appointed word 
 " The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; 
 Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed !" 
 And must he change so soon the hand, 
 Just link'd to his by holy band, 
 For the fell cross of blood and brand ? 
 And must the day, so blithe that rose, 
 And promised rapture in the close. 
 Before its setting hour, divide 
 The bridegroom from tbe plighted bride ? 
 fatal doom ! — it must ! it must ! 
 Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust, 
 Her summons dread, brook no delay ; 
 Stretch to the race — away ! away ! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Yet slow he laid his plaid aside. 
 And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride, 
 Until he saw the starting tear 
 Speak woe he might not stop to cheer ; 
 Then, trusting not a second look, 
 In haste he sped him up the brook, 
 Nor bo,ck\vard glanced, till on the heath 
 Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. 
 — What in the racer's bosom stirr'd? 
 The sickening pang of hope deferr'd ; 
 And memory, with a torturing train 
 Of all his morning visions vain. 
 Mingled with love's impatience, came 
 The manly thirst for martial fame ; 
 The stormy joy of mountaineers, 
 Ere yet tliey rush upon the spears ; 
 And zeal for clan and chieftain burning. 
 
67 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 G8 
 
 And hope, from well-fought field returning, 
 
 With war's red honors on his crest, 
 
 To clasp his Mary to his breast. 
 
 Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae, 
 
 Like fire from flint he glanced away, 
 
 While high resolve, and feeling strong, 
 
 Burst into voluntary song. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 The heath this night must be my bed, 
 The bracken' curtain for my head, 
 My lullaby the warder's tread. 
 Far, far from love and thee Mary ; 
 
 To-morrow ev^e, more stilly laid, 
 My couch may be my bloody plaid, 
 My vesper-song, thy wail, sweet maid! 
 It will not waken me, Mary ! 
 
 I may not, dare not, fancy now 
 The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, 
 I dare not think upon thy vow, 
 And all it promised me, Mary ! 
 
 No fond regret must Norman know ; 
 When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, 
 His heart must be like bended bow. 
 His foot like arrow free, Mary. 
 
 A time will come with feeling fraught ! 
 For, if I fall in battle fought. 
 Thy hapless lover's dying thought 
 Shall be a thought on thee, Mary ! 
 
 And if return'd from conquer'd foes. 
 How blithely will the evening close. 
 How sweet the linnet sing repose 
 To my young bride and me, Mary ! 
 
G9 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 
 
 Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, i 
 
 Rushing, in conflagration strong. 
 
 Thy deep ravines and dells along. 
 
 Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, 
 
 And reddening the dark lakes below ; 
 
 Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, 
 
 As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. 
 
 The signal roused to martial coil 
 
 The sullen margin of Loch Voil, 
 
 AVaked still Loch Doine, and to the source 
 
 Alarm'd, Balvaig, thy swampy course : 
 
 Thence southward turn'd its rapid road 
 
 Adown Strath Gartney's valley broad, 
 
 Till rose in arms each man might claim 
 
 A portion in Clan -Alpine's name ; 
 
 From the gray sire, whose trembling hand 
 
 Could hardly buckle on his brand. 
 
 To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 
 
 Were yet scarce terror to the crow. 
 
 Each valley, each sequester' d glen, 
 
 Muster'd its little horde of men. 
 
 That met as torrents from the height 
 
 In Highland dales their streams unite, 
 
 Still gathering, as they pour along, 
 
 A voice more loud, a tide more strong, 
 
 Till at the rendezvous they stood 
 
 By hundreds prompt for blows and blood; 
 
 Each train' d to arms since life began. 
 
 Owning no tie but to his clan, 
 
 No oath, but by his Chieftain's hand, 2 
 
 No law, but Roderick Dhu's command. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 That summer morn had Roderick Dhu 
 Survey'd the skirts of Ben-venue, 
 
! 
 
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 60 
 
 XXIV 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 70 
 
 And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath, 
 
 To view the frontiers of Menteith. 
 
 All backward came with news of truce ; 
 
 iStill lay each martial Gramme and Bruce, 
 
 In Eednoch coiirts no horsemen wait, 
 
 No banner waved on Cardross gate. 
 
 On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, 
 
 Nor scared the herons from Loch-Con ; 
 
 All seem'd at peace. — Now, wot ye why 
 
 The Chieftain, with such anxious eye. 
 
 Ere to the muster he repair. 
 
 This western frontier scann'd with care ? — 
 
 In Ben-venue's most darksome cleft, 
 
 A fair, though cruel, pledge was left ; 
 
 For Douglas, to his promise true, 
 
 That morning from the isle withdrew, 
 
 And in a deep sequester' d dell 
 
 Had sought a low and lonely cell. 
 
 By many a bard, in Celtic tongue. 
 
 Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung ; 
 
 A softer name the Saxons gave, 
 
 And call'd the grot the Goblin-cave. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 It was a wild and strange retreat, 
 As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. 
 The dell upon the mountain's crest, 
 Yawn'd like a gash on warrior s breast; 
 Its trench had stay 'd full many a rock, 
 Hurl'd by primeval earthquake shock 
 From Ben- venue's gray summit wild, 
 And here, in random ruin piled, 
 They frown' d incumbent o'er the spot. 
 And forni'd the rugged sylvan grot. 
 The oak and birch, with mingled shade, 
 At noontide there a twilight made, 
 Unless when short and sudden shone 
 
71 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Some straggling beam oti cliff or stone, 
 With such a glimpse as prophet's eye 
 Gains on thy depth, Futuiity. 
 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, tl.at spoke 
 The incessant war of wave and rock. 
 Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway, 
 Seem'd nodding o'er the cavern gray, 
 From such a den the wolf had sprung, 
 In such the wild-cat leaves her ycung ; 
 Yet Douglas and his daughter fair 
 Sought, for a space, their safety there. 
 Gray Superstition's whisper dread 
 Debarr'd the spot to vulgar tread ; 
 For there, she said, did fays resort. 
 And satyrs! hold their sylvan court. 
 By moonlight tread their mystic maze, 
 And blast the rash beholder's gaze. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Now Eve, with western shadows long, 
 Floated on Katrine bright and strong. 
 When Roderick with a chosen few, 
 Repass' d the heights of Ben- venue. 
 Above the Goblin-cave they go. 
 Through the wild pa^s of Beal-nam-bo ;2 
 'Ihe prompt retainers speed before. 
 To launch the shallop from the shore, 
 For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way 
 To view the passes of Achray, 
 And place his clansmen in array. 
 Yet lags the Chief in \uusing mind, 
 Unwonted sight, his men behind. 
 A single page to bear his sword. 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 72 
 
 Alone attended ou his lord ; 
 
 The rest their way through thickets break, 
 
 And soon await him by the lake 
 
 It was a fair and gallant sight, 
 
 To view them from the neighboring height, 
 
 By the low-levell'd sunbeam's light! 
 
 For strength and stature, from the dan 
 
 Each warrior was a chosen man. 
 
 As even afar might well be seen, 
 
 By their proud step and martial mien. 
 
 Their feathers dance, their tartans float, 
 
 Their targets gleam, as by the boat 
 
 A wild and warlike group they stand, 
 
 That well became such mountain-strand. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 Their Chief, with step reluctant, still 
 Was lingering on the craggy hill. 
 Hard by where turn'd apart the road 
 To Douglas's obscure abode. 
 It was but with that dawning morn, 
 That Koderick 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 the rustling trees. 
 But, hark ! what minsfles in the strain ? 
 
73 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 It is the harp of AUan-haue, 
 
 That wakes its measures slow and high, 
 
 Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 
 
 What melting voice attends the strings? 
 
 'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings. 
 
 XXTX. 
 
 HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. 
 
 Ave Maria ! Maiden mild ! 
 
 Listen to a maiden's prayer ; 
 Thou canst hear though from the wild, 
 
 Thou canst save amid despair. 
 Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, 
 
 Though banish' d outcast, and rev i led— 
 Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer; 
 
 Mother, hear a suppliant child ! 
 
 Ave Maria ! 
 
 Ave Maria ! undefiled ! 
 
 The flinty couch we now must share, 
 Shall seem with down of eider piled, 
 
 If thy protection hover there. 
 The murky cavern's heavy air 
 
 Shall bieathe of balm if thou hast smiled 
 Then, Maiden ! hear a maiden' s prayer, 
 
 Mother, list a suppliant child ! 
 
 Ave Maria ! 
 
 Ave Maria ! stainless styled ! 
 
 Foul demons of the earth and air, 
 From this their wonted haunt exiled. 
 
 Shall flee before thy presence fair. 
 We bow us to our lot of care, 
 
 Beneath thy guidance reconciled ; 
 Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, 
 
 And for a father hear a child ! 
 
 Ave Maria! 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Died on the harp the closing hymn — 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 74: 
 
 Unmoved in attitude and limb, 
 As list'ning still, Clan-Alpine's lord 
 Stood leaning on his heavy sword, 
 Until the page, with humble sign, 
 Twice pointed to the snn's decline. 
 Then, while his plaid he round him cast, 
 " It is the last time— 'tis the last, " 
 He mutter' d thrice, — " the last time e'er 
 That angel-voice shall Roderick hear!" 
 It was a goading thought— his stride 
 Hied hastier down the mountain-side ; 
 Sullen he flung him in the boat. 
 And instant cross the lake it shot. 
 They landed in that silvery bay, 
 And eastward held their hasty way, 
 Till with the latest beams of light, 
 The band arrived on Lanrick height, 
 Where muster' d in the vale below, 
 Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 A various scene the clansmen made. 
 Some sate, some stood, some slowly stray'd ; 
 But most, with mantles folded ronnd, 
 Were couch' d to rest upon the ground, 
 Scarce to be known by curious eye. 
 From the deep heather where they lie. 
 So well was match' d the tartan screen 
 With heath-bell dark and brackens green ; 
 Unless where, here and there, a blade, 
 Or lance's point, a glimmer made, 
 Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. 
 But, when, advancing through the gloom. 
 They saw the Chieftain's eagle phmie, 
 Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide. 
 Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 
 Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 
 
75 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Three times return' d the martial yell. 
 
 It died upon Bochastle's plain, 
 
 And Silence claimed her evening reign. 
 
 CANTO FOUMH. 
 
 THE PROPHECY. 
 I. 
 
 *' The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, 
 
 And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears 
 The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, 
 
 And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears. 
 wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears. 
 
 Ibid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, 
 Emblem of hope and love through future 
 years !" 
 
 Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armhndave, 
 What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad 
 wave. 
 
 II. 
 
 Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, 
 
 Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. 
 
 All while he stripp'd the wild-rose spray, 
 
 His axe and bow beside him lay, 
 
 For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood, 
 
 A wakeful sentinel he stood. 
 
 Hark ! — on the rock a footstep rung, 
 
 And instant to his arms he sprung. 
 
 " Stand, or thou diest ! — What, Malise ! — soon 
 
 Art thou return' d from P)raes of Doune. 
 
 By thy keen step and glance I know, 
 

 ^ 
 
 75 
 
 Canto Fourth. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 76 
 
 Thou bring'st us tidiugs of the foe. " — 
 
 (For while the Fiery Cross hied on, 
 
 On distant scout had Malisegone.) 
 
 " Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchman 
 
 said. 
 "Apart, in yonder misty glade ; 
 To his lone couch I'll be yoin- guide. " — 
 Then call'd a slumberer by his side, 
 And stirr'd him with his slacken'd bow — 
 "Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho! 
 We seek the Chieftain ; on the track, 
 Keep eagle watch till I come back. " 
 
 III- 
 
 Together up the pass they sped : 
 
 " What of the foemen ?" Norman said. — 
 
 " Varying reports from near and far ; 
 
 This certain, — that a band of war 
 
 Has for two days been ready boune, 
 
 At prompt command, to march from Doune ; 
 
 King James, the while, with princely powers 
 
 Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 
 
 Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 
 
 Speak on our glens in thunder loud. 
 
 Inured to bide such bitter bout. 
 
 The 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 secure?" — 
 
77 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " 'Tis 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 Taghairm' call'd ; 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 ! 
 'Jhe choicest of the prey we had, 
 When swept our merry-men Gallangad.2 
 His hide was snow, his horns were dark, 
 His red eye glow'd like fiery spark ; 
 So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet, 
 Sore did he cumber our retreat. 
 And kept our stoutest kernes in awe, 
 Even at the pass of Beal'maha. 
 But steep and flinty was the road. 
 And sharp the hurrying pike men's goad, 
 And when we came to Dennan's Row, 
 A child might scatheless stroke his brow. 
 Y. 
 
 NORMAN. 
 " That bull was slain : his reeking hide 
 They stretch' d the cataract beside, 
 Whose waters their wild tumult toss 
 Adown the black and craggy boss 
 Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge 
 Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. ^ 
 Couch'd on a shelf beneath its brink. 
 Close where the thundering torrents sink, 
 Rocking beneath their headlong -sway. 
 And drizzled by the ceaseless spray. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 78 
 
 'Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream, 
 
 The wizard waits prophetic dream. 
 
 Nor distant rests the Chief ;- but hush ! 
 
 See, gliding slow through mist and bush, 
 
 The Hermit gains yon rock, and stands 
 
 To gaze upon our slumbering bands. 
 
 Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost. 
 
 That hovers o'er a slaughterd host ? 
 
 Or raven on the blasted oak. 
 
 That, watching while the deer is broke, 
 
 His morsel claims with sullen croak ?"i 
 
 ' ' Peace ! peace ! to other than to me 
 
 Thy words were evil augury ; 
 
 But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade 
 
 Clan- Alpine's omen and her aid, 
 
 Not aught that, glean'd from heaven or hell, 
 
 Yon fiend-begotten monk can tell. 
 
 The Chieftain joins him, see— and now 
 
 Together they descend the brow. " — 
 
 VI. 
 
 And, as they came, with Alpine' s Lord 
 The Hermit Monk held solemn word : 
 " Roderick ! it is a fearful strife. 
 For man endow'd with mortal life, 
 Whose shroud of sentient clay can still 
 Feel feverish pang and fainting chill, 
 "Whose eye can stare in stony trance, 
 Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance, 
 'Tis hard for such to view, unfurl'd, 
 The curtain of the future world. 
 Yet witness every quaking limb. 
 My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim, 
 My soul with harrowing anguish torn, 
 This for my Chieftain have I borne ! — 
 The shapes that sought my fearful couch, 
 A human tongue may ne'er avouch ; 
 
79 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 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 ilame ! 
 Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll 
 But borne and branded on my soul ; — 
 Which spills the foremost foeman's life, 
 That party conquers in the strife. "' 
 
 VII. 
 
 "Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care ! 
 Good is thine augury and fair. 
 Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood, 
 But first our broad-swords tasted blood. 
 A surer victim still I know, 
 Self-offer'd to the auspicious blow : 
 A spy has sought my land this morn, — 
 No eve shall witness Ins return ! 
 My followers guard each pass's mouth, 
 To east, to westward, and to south : 
 Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide. 
 Has charge to lead his steps aside. 
 Till, in deep path or dingle brown, 
 He light on those shall bring him down ; 
 — But see, who comes his news to shew ! 
 Malise ! what tidings of the foe ?' 
 
 VIII. 
 
 "At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive 
 
 Two barons proud their banners wave. 
 
 I saw the Moray's silver star. 
 
 And mark'd the sable pale of Mar. ' ' — 
 
 " By Alpine's soul, high tidings those ! 
 
 I love to hear of worthy foes. 
 
 When move they on ?" — " To-morrow's noon 
 
 Will see them here for battle boune. " — 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 '•Then it sliall see a meeting stern ! 
 But, for the place— say, couldst thou learn 
 Nought of the friendly clans of Earn ? 
 Strengthen'd by them we well might bide 
 The battle on Benledi's side. 
 Thou couldst not?— well ! Clan-Alpine's men 
 Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen ; 
 Within Loch-Katrine's gorge we'll tight, 
 All in our maids' and matrons' sight, 
 Each for his hearth and household fire, 
 Father for child and son for sire,— 
 Lover for maid beloved !— but why- 
 Is it the breeze affects mine eye ? 
 Or dost thou come, ill omen'd tear ! 
 A messenger of doubt or fear ? 
 No ! sooner may the Saxon lance, 
 Unfix Benledi from his stance, 
 Than doubt or terror can pierce through 
 The unyielding heart of Eoderick Dim ! 
 'Tis stubborn as his trusty targe. — 
 Each to his post '.—all know tlieir charge. "— 
 The pibroch sounds, the bands advance, 
 The broad-swords gleam, the banners dance, 
 Obedient to the Chieftain's glance, 
 — I turn me from the martial roar, 
 And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Where is the Douglas?— he is gone ; 
 And Ellen sits on the grey stone 
 Fast by the cave, and makes her moan ; 
 While vainly Allan's words of cheer 
 Are pour'd on her unheeding ear.— 
 "He will return— dear lady, trust!— 
 With joy return ;— he will— he must. 
 Well was it time to seek, afar, 
 Some refuge from impending war, 
 
 80 
 
81 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm 
 Are cow'd by the approaching stunn. 
 I saw their boats, with many a light, 
 Floating the live-long yesternight, 
 Shifting like flashes darted forth 
 By the red streamers of the north ; 
 I mark'd at morn how close they ride 
 Thick moor'd by the lone islet's side, 
 Like wild ducks couching in the fen, 
 When stoops the hawk upon the glen. 
 Since this rude race dare not abide 
 The peril on the main-land side, 
 Shall not thy noble father's care 
 Some safe retreat for thee prepare?" — 
 
 X. 
 
 ELLEN. 
 ' ' No, Allan, No ! Pretext so kind 
 My wakeful terrors could not blind. 
 When in such tender tone, yet grave, 
 Douglas a parting blessing gave. 
 The tear that glisten' d in his eye 
 Drown'dnot his purpose fix'd and high. 
 My soul, though feminine and weak, 
 Can image his ; e'en as the lake. 
 Itself disturb' d by slightest stroke. 
 Reflects the invulnerable rock. 
 He hears report of battle rife, 
 He deems himself the cause of strife. 
 I saw him redden, when the theme 
 Tuin'd, Allan, on thine idle dream. 
 Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bonnd, 
 Which I, thou said'st, about him wound. 
 Think'st thou he trow'd thine omen aught? 
 Oh no! 'twas apprehensive thought 
 For the kind youth,— for Roderick too — 
 (Let me be just) that friend so true ; 
 In danger both, and in our cause ! 
 Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 8 '2 
 
 Why else that solemn waiiiing given, 
 ' If not on earth, we meet in heaven ?' 
 Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane, 
 If eve return him not again. 
 Am I to hie and make me known ? 
 Alas ! he goes to Scotland's throne, 
 Buys his friends' safety with his own ; — 
 He goes to do — what I had done, 
 Had Douglas' daughter been his son!" 
 
 XI. 
 
 "Nay, lovely Ellen !— dearest, nay ! 
 If aught should his return delay, 
 He only named yon holy fane 
 As fitting place to meet again. 
 Be sure he's safe : and for the Gra?me,- 
 Heaven's blessing on his gallant name 
 My vision' d 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 harpiugs slow, 
 That presaged this approaching woe ! 
 Sootli was my prophecy of fear , 
 Believe it when it augurs cheer. 
 Would we had kft this d'smal 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. ' 
 The minstrel tried his simple art, 
 But distant far was Ellen's heart. " 
 
 8 
 
83 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XII. 
 
 BALLAD. 
 
 ALICE BRAND. 
 
 Merry is it in the good green wood, 
 
 When the mavisi and merlie^ are singing ; 
 
 When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are 
 in cry, 
 And the hunter's horn is ringing. 
 
 " Alice Brand,3 my native land 
 
 Is lost for love of you ; 
 And we must hold by wood and wold, 
 
 As outlaws wont to do. 
 
 " Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright, 
 And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, 
 
 That on the night of our luckless flight, 
 Tliy brother bold I slew. 
 
 "Now must I teach to hew the beech, 
 
 The hand that held the glaive, 
 For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 
 
 And stakes to fence our cave. 
 
 "And for vest of pall, thy fingers small, 
 
 That wont on harp to stray, 
 A cloak must sheer from the slaughter' d deer, 
 
 To keep the cold away. " — 
 
 " Richard ! if my brother died, 
 
 'Twas but a fatal chance ; 
 For darkling was the battle tried. 
 
 And fortune sped the lance. 
 
 " If pall and vair no more I wear, 
 
 Nor thou the crimson sheen. 
 As warm, we'll say, is the russet grey, 
 
 As gay the forest green. 
 
XII. 
 
 3AluhA'D . 
 
 Alice Beaistd. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 84 
 
 " And, Richard, if our lot be hard, 
 And lost thy native land, 
 
 Still Alice has her own Eichard, 
 And he his Alice Brand. " — 
 
 XIII. 
 
 BALLAD CONTINUED. 
 
 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good green wood, 
 
 S(j blithe Lady Alice is singing ; 
 On the beech's pride, and the oak's brown side 
 
 Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 
 
 Up spoke the moody Elfin king, 
 
 Who wound within the hill,i — 
 Like wind in the porch of rnin'd church, 
 
 His voice was ghostly shrill. 
 
 " Why sounds yon stroke on beach and oak, 
 
 Our moonlight circle's screen? 
 Or who comes here to chase the deer, 
 
 Beloved of our Elfin Queen ?2 
 Or who may dare on wold to wear 
 
 Thefairie's fatal green ?3 
 
 "Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie, 
 
 For thou wert christen' d man ;4 
 For cross or sign thoii wilt not fly, 
 
 For mutter' d word or ban. 
 
 "Lay on him the curse of the wither' d heart, 
 
 The curse of the sleepless eye ; 
 Till he wish and pray that his life would part, 
 
 Nor yet find leave to die. " — 
 
 XIV. 
 
 BALLAD CONTINUED. 
 
 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good green wood. 
 Though the birds have still'd their singiug ; 
 
85 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The evening blaze doth Alice raise, 
 And Richard his faggots bringing. 
 
 Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, 
 
 Before Lord Richard stands. 
 And, as he cross' d and bless' d himself, 
 
 " I fear not sign, " quoth the grisly elf, 
 " That is made with bloody hands. "— 
 
 But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 
 That woman void of fear, — 
 
 "And if there's blood upon lis hand, 
 'Tis but the blood of deer. "— 
 
 " Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood ! 
 
 It cleaves unto his hand, 
 The stain of thine own kindly blood, 
 
 The blood of Ethert Brand. "— 
 
 Then forward stepp'd she Alice Brand, 
 
 And made the holy sign, — 
 " And if there's blood on Richard's hand 
 A spotless hand is mine. 
 
 " And I conjure thee, demon elf, 
 
 By Him whom demons fear, 
 To show us whence thou art thyself, 
 
 And what thine errand here?" — 
 
 XV. 
 
 BALLAD CONTINUED. 
 
 "'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in fairy land. 
 
 When fairy birds are singing. 
 When the court doth ride by their monarch' 
 side. 
 
 With bit and bridle ringing : 
 
 " And gaily shines the fairy land — 
 But all is glistening show,i 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 86 
 
 L'ke the idle gleam that December's beam 
 Can dart on ice and snow. 
 
 "And fading like that varied gleam, 
 
 Is our inconstant ghape, 
 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 snateh'd away 
 
 To the joyless Elfin bower, i 
 
 " But wist I of a woman bold, 
 
 Who thrice my brow durst sign, 
 I might regain my mortal mould, 
 
 As fair a form as thine. "— - 
 
 She cross'd him once — she cross'd him twice — 
 
 That lady was so brave ; 
 The fouler grew his goblin hue. 
 
 The darker grew the cave. 
 
 She cross'd him thrice, that lady bold ; 
 
 He rose beneath her hand 
 The fairest knight on Scottish mould, 
 
 Her Brother, Ethert Brand ! 
 
 Merry it is in good green wo( d, 
 
 When the Mavis and Merle are singing, 
 But merrier were they in Dunfermline grey. 
 
 When all the bells were ringing. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Just as the minstrel sounds were staid, 
 A stranger climb'd the steepy glade ; 
 His martial step, his stately mien, 
 
87 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 His hunting suit of Lincoln green, 
 
 His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 
 
 'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz-James. 
 
 Ellen beheld as in a dream, 
 
 Then, staring, scarce suppress 'd a scream : 
 
 '•0 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 by times this morning tide. 
 
 And marshall'd, over bank and bourne, 
 
 The happy path of my return. " 
 
 "The happy path !— what ! said he nought 
 
 Of war, of battle to be fought, 
 
 Of guarded pass?" — " No, by my faith ! 
 
 Nor saw I aught could augur scathe. " — 
 
 " Oh haste thee, Allan, to the kern, 
 
 — Yonder his tartans I discern ; 
 
 Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 
 
 That he will guide the stranger sure ! — 
 
 What prompted thee, unhappy man ? 
 
 The meanest serf in Koderick's clan 
 
 Had not been bribed by love or fear. 
 
 Unknown to him to guide thee here. " — 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be 
 
 Since it is worthy care from thee ; 
 
 Yet life I hold but idle breath. 
 
 When love or honour's weigh 'd with death. 
 
 Then let me profit by my chance. 
 
 And speak my purpose bold at once. 
 
 I come to bear thee from a wild, 
 
 Where ne'er before such blossom smiled ; 
 
 By this soft hand to lead thee far 
 
 From frantic scenes of feud and war. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 88 
 
 Near Bochastle my borses wait ; 
 
 They bear us soon to Stirling gate. 
 
 I'll place thee in a lovely bower, 
 
 I'll guard thee like a tender flower. " — 
 
 "Oh! hush. Sir Knight! 'twere female art 
 
 To say I do not read thy heart ; 
 
 Too much, before, my selfish ear 
 
 Was idly soothed my praise to hear 
 
 That fatal bait hath lured thee back, 
 
 In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track ; 
 
 And how, how, can I atone 
 
 The wreck my vanity brought on ! — 
 
 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 I 
 
 But first — my father is a man 
 
 Outlaw' d and exiled, under ban ; 
 
 The price of blood is on his head. 
 
 With me 'twere infamy to wed. — 
 
 Still would'st thou speak ! — then hear the truth ! 
 
 Fitz-James, there is a noble youth, — 
 
 If yet he is ! — exposed for me 
 
 And mine to dread extremity — 
 
 Thou hast the secret of my heart; 
 
 Forgive, be generous, and depart. " — 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Pi tz- James knew every wily train 
 A lady's fickle heart to gain, 
 But here he knew and felt them vain. 
 There shot no glance from Ellen's eye. 
 To give her steadfast speech the lie ; 
 In maiden confidence she stood, 
 Though mantled in her cheek the blood. 
 And told her love with such a sigh 
 Of deep and hopeless agony. 
 
89 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 As death had seal'd her Malcolm's doom, 
 
 And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. 
 
 Hope vanish' d from Fitz-James's eye, 
 
 But not with hope fled sympathy. 
 
 He proffer' d to attend her side, 
 
 As brother would a sister guide. — 
 
 "0! little know'st thou Eoderick's heart! 
 
 Safer for both we go apart. 
 
 haste thee, and from Allan learn, 
 
 If thou may'st trust yon wily kern. " — 
 
 With hand^ upon his forehead laid, 
 
 The conflict of his mind to shade, 
 
 A parting step or two he made ; 
 
 Then, as some thought had cross' d his brain, 
 
 He paused, and turn'd, and came again. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 "Hear, lady, yet a parting word! — 
 It chanced in. fight that my poor sword 
 Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. 
 This ring the grateful Monarch gave. 
 And bade, when I had boon to crave, 
 To bring it back, and boldly claim 
 The recompense that I would nanie. 
 Ellen, I am no courtly lord, 
 But one who lives by lance and sword, 
 Whose castle is his belm 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, 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Paused— kiss' d lier hand— and then was gone. 
 
 The aged mmstrel stood aghast, 
 
 So hastily Fitz- James shot past. 
 
 He join'd his guide, and wending down 
 
 The ridges of the mountain brown, 
 
 Across the stream they took their way, 
 
 Tliat joins Loch-Katrine to Achray. 
 
 XX. 
 
 All in the Trosach's glen was still, 
 Noontide was sleeping on the hill : 
 Sudden his guide whoop' d loud and high— 
 " Murdoch ! was that a signal cry ?" — 
 He stammer'd forth,—' ' I shout to scare 
 Yon raven from his dainty fare. " 
 He look'd— he knew the raven's prey, 
 His own brave steed :— " Ah ! gallant grey! 
 For thee— for me perchance— 'twere well 
 We ne'er had seen the Trosach's dell.— 
 Murdoch, move first — but silently ; 
 Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die. " — 
 Jealous and sullen on they fared. 
 Each silent, each upon his guard. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Now wound the path its dizzy ledge 
 
 Around a precipice's edge. 
 
 When lo ! a wasted Female form, 
 
 Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, 
 
 In tatter' d weeds and wild array. 
 
 Stood on a cliff beside the way, 
 
 And glancing round her restless eye, 
 
 Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, 
 
 Seem'd nought to mark, yet all to spy, 
 
 Her brow was wreath' d 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, 
 
 90 
 
91 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Where scarce was footing for the goat, 
 The tartan plaid she first descried, 
 And shriek'd till all the rocks replied. 
 As loud she laugh'd when near they drew 
 For then the lowland garb she knew ; 
 And then her hands she wildly wrung, 
 And then she wept, and then she sung. — 
 She sung ! the voice, in better time. 
 Perchance to harp or lute might chime ; 
 And now, though strain 'd and roughen' d, 
 Euug Avildly sweet to dale and hill 
 
 still 
 
 XXIT. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 "They bid me sleep, they bid me pray. 
 
 They say my brain is warp'd and wrung — 
 I cannot sleep on Highland brae, 
 
 I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 
 But were I now wbere Allan glides. 
 Or heard my native Devan's tides. 
 So sweetly would I rest, and pray 
 That heaven would close my wintry day ! 
 
 " 'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid, 
 They bade me to the cburch repair ; 
 
 It was my bridal morn they said, 
 
 And my true love would meet me there. 
 
 But woe betide the cruel guile, 
 
 That drown' d in blood the morning smile ! 
 
 And woe betide the fairy dream ! 
 
 I only waked to sob and scream. " — 
 
 XXIII. 
 " Who is this maid ! what means her lay? 
 She hovers o'er the hollow way, 
 And flutters wide her mantle grey, 
 As the lone heron spreads his wing. 
 By twilight, o'er a haimted spring, " — 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 92 
 
 " 'Tis Blanch of Devon," Murdoch said, 
 
 ' ' A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 
 
 Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, 
 
 When Roderick foray' d Devan-side. 
 
 The gay bridegroom resistance made, 
 
 And felt our Chief's unconquer'd blade. 
 
 I marvel she is now at large, 
 
 But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge. 
 
 Hence, braia-sick fool ! "—He raised his bow;— 
 
 " Now, if thou strikest her but one blow, 
 
 I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far 
 
 As ever peasant pitched a bar. " — 
 
 "Thanks, champion, thanks! " the maniac 
 
 cried 
 And press' d her to Fitz-James's side. 
 " See the gray pennons I prepare, 
 To seek thy true-love through the air ! 
 I will not lend that savage groom, 
 To break his fall, one downy plume ! 
 No ! deep amid disjointed stones, 
 The wolves shall batten on his bones, 
 And then shall his detested plaid, 
 By bush and brier in mid-air stay'd, 
 Wave forth a banner fair and free. 
 Meet signal for their revelry." — 
 
 XXIV. 
 " Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still ! " 
 " ! thou look'st kindly, and I will.— 
 Mine eye has dried and wasted been. 
 But still it loves the Lincoln-green; 
 And, though mine ear is all unstrung. 
 Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 
 " For oh my sweet William was forester true, 
 
 He stole poor Blanche's heart away ! 
 His coat it was all of the greenwood hue 
 And so blithely he trilled the Lowland 
 lay! 
 
93 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 " It was not what 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, feaifully, 
 She fixed her apprehensive eye; 
 Then turn'd it on the Knight, and then 
 Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 "The toils are pitch'd, 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 his branches sturdily; 
 He came stately down the glen. 
 
 Ever sing hardily, hardily. 
 
 " It was there he met with a wounded doe, 
 
 She was bleeding deathfully; 
 She warn'd him of the toils below, 
 
 Oh so faithfully, faithfully ! 
 
 " He had an eye, and he could heed, 
 
 Ever sing warily, warily; 
 He had a foot, and he could speed — 
 
 Hunters watch so narrowly." — 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Fitz-James's mind was passion-toss' d, 
 When Ellen's hints and fears were lost; 
 But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, 
 And Blanche's song conviction brought — 
 Not like a stag that spies the snare, 
 But lion of the hunt aware, 
 He waved at once his blade on high, 
 " Disclose thy treachery, or die ! " 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 94 
 
 Forth at full speed the Clans-man flew, 
 But in his race his bow he drew. 
 The shaft just grazed Fitz- James's crest, 
 And thrill' d in Blanche's faded breast. — 
 Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed, 
 For ne'er had Alpine' s son such need ! 
 With heart of tire, and foot of wind. 
 The fierce avenger is behind ! 
 Fate judges of the rapid strife — 
 The forfeit death— the prize is life ! 
 Thy kindred ambush lies before, 
 Close couch'd upon the heathery moor ; 
 
 Them could'st thou reach !- it may not be- 
 Thine ambush' d kin thou ne'er shalt sef^. 
 The fiery Saxon gains on thee ! 
 — Kesistless speeds the deadly thrust. 
 As lightning strikes the pine to dust ; 
 With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain, 
 Ere he can win his blade again. 
 Bent o'er the fall'n, with falcon eye, 
 He grimly smiled to see him die ; 
 Then slower wended back his way, 
 Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 She sate beneath the birchen tree. 
 
 Her elbow resting on her knee ; 
 
 She had withdrawn the fatal shaft. 
 
 And gazed on it, and feebly laughed ; 
 
 Her wreath of broom and feathers grey. 
 
 Daggled with blood, beside her lay. 
 
 The knight to staunch the life-stream tried, - 
 
 "Stranger, it is in vain !" she cried. 
 
 " This hour of death has given me more 
 
 Of reason's power than years before ; 
 
 For, as these ebbing veins decay, 
 9 
 
95 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 My phrenzied visions fade away. 
 A helpless injured wretch I die, 
 And something tells me in thine eye, 
 That thou wert mine avenger born.— 
 Seest thou this tress? — 0, still I've worn 
 This little tress of yellow hair, 
 Through danger, phrenzy, and despair ! 
 It once was bright and clear as thine, 
 But blood and tears have diium'd its shine. 
 I will not tell thee when 'twas 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 ! — 
 ! by thy knighthood's honour'd sign, 
 And for thy life preserved by mine. 
 When thou shalt see a darksome man, 
 Who boasts him chief of Alpine's clan. 
 With tartans broad, and shadowy plume. 
 And hand of blood, and brow of gloom. 
 Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong. 
 And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong 
 They watch for thee by pass and fell .... 
 Avoid the path God ! farewell. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James ; 
 Fast pour'd his eye at pity's claims. 
 And now, with mingled grief and ire. 
 He saw the murder' d maid expire. 
 " God, in my need, be my relief, 
 As I wreak this on yonder Chief!" — 
 A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 
 He blended with the bridegroom's hair ; 
 The mingled braid in blood he dyed, 
 

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 XXIX. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 96 
 
 And placed it on his bonnet's side ; 
 
 ' ' By him whose words is truth ! I swear, 
 
 No other favour will I wear, 
 
 Till this sad token I embrue 
 
 In the best blood of Roderick Dhu ! 
 
 — But hark ! what means yon faint halloo ? 
 
 The chase is up, — but they shall know. 
 
 The stag at bay's a dangerous foe. " — 
 
 Barr'd from the known but guarded way, 
 
 Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray. 
 
 And oft must change his desperate track. 
 
 By stream and precipice turn'd back. 
 
 Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length. 
 
 From lack of food and loss of strength, 
 
 He couch'd him in a thicket hoar, 
 
 And thought his toils and perils o'er : 
 
 " Of all my rash adventures past. 
 
 This frantic feat must prove the last! 
 
 Who e'er so mad but might have guess'd, 
 
 That all this Highland hornet's nest, 
 
 Would muster up in swarms so soon 
 
 As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ? — 
 
 Like blood-hounds 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 grey 
 
 Then darkling try my dangerous way. " — 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The shades of eve come slowly down, 
 The woods are wrapp'd in deeper brown, 
 The owl awakens from her dell. 
 The fox is heard upon the fell ; 
 Enough remains of glimmering light 
 To guide the wanderer's steps aright, 
 Yet not enough from far to show 
 
97 THE LADY OF THE luAKE. 
 
 His figure to the watchful foe 
 
 With cautious step, and ear awake, 
 
 He climbs the crag and threads the brake ; 
 
 And not the summer solstice, there, 
 
 Temper'd the midnight mountain air. 
 
 But every breeze that swept the wold, 
 
 Benumb' d his drench' d limbs with cold. 
 
 In dread, in danger, and alone, 
 
 Famish'd and chill'd, through ways unknown, 
 
 Tangled and steep, he journey 'd on ; 
 
 Till as a rock's huge point he turn'd, 
 
 A watch-fire close before him burn'd. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Beside its embers red and clear, 
 
 Bask'd, in his plaid, a mountaineer; 
 
 And up he sprung with sword in hand, — 
 
 "Thy name and purpose ? Saxon, stand !" — 
 
 " A stranger. " — " What dost thou require ?" — 
 
 " Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 
 
 My life's beset, my path is lost. 
 
 The gale has chill'd my limbs with frost. " — 
 
 "Art thou a friend to Roderick ?" — "No. " — 
 
 " Thou darest not call thyself a foe ?" — 
 
 " I dare ! to him and all the band 
 
 He brings to aid his murderous hand. " — 
 
 " Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game 
 
 The privilege of chase may claim. 
 
 Though space and law the stag we lend. 
 
 Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend. 
 
 Who ever reck'd, where, how, or when. 
 
 The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain P 
 
 Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie, 
 
 Who say thou camest a secret spy !" — 
 
 "They do, by Heaven ! — Come, Roderick Dhu, i 
 
 And of his clnn the boldest two, I 
 
 And let me but till morning lest, j 
 

 91 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 98 
 
 I write the falsehood on their crest." — 
 
 " If by the blaze I mark aright, 
 
 Thou bear'st the belt and spurs of Knight." — 
 
 " Then, by these tokens mayest thou know 
 
 Each proud oppressor's mortal foe." — 
 
 " Enough, enough ; sit down and share 
 
 A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 He gave him of his Highland cheer, 
 The harden'd flesh of mountain deer;i 
 Dry fuel on the fire he laid, 
 And bade the Saxon share liis plaid. 
 He tended him like welcome guest, 
 Then thus his further speech address'd 
 " Stranger, I am to Roderick Dim 
 A clansman born, a kinsman true; 
 Each word against his honor spoke. 
 Demands of me avenging stroke; 
 Yet more — upon thy fate, 'tis said, 
 A mighty augury is laid. 
 It rests with me to wind my horn, — 
 Thou art with numbers overborne; 
 It rests with me, here, brand to brand, 
 Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand: 
 But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause. 
 Will I depart from honor's laws; 
 To assail a wearied man were shame, 
 And stranger is a holy name; 
 Guidance, and rest, and food and fire. 
 In vain he never must require. 
 Then rest thee here till dawn of day, 
 Myself will guide thee on the way 
 O'er stock and stone, through watch and 
 
 ward. 
 Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard, 
 As far as Coilantogle's ford ; 
 From thence thy warrant is thy sword." 
 
99 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 " I take thy courtesy, "by Heaven, 
 As freely as 'tis nobly given !" 
 " Well, rest thee ; for the bittern's cry 
 Sings us the lake's wild lullaby. "— 
 With that he shook the gather' d heath, 
 And spread his plaid upon the wreath ; 
 And the brave foemen, side by side. 
 Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, 
 And slept until the dawning beam 
 Purpled the mountain and the stream. 
 
 CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 THE COMBAT. 
 I. 
 
 Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, 
 
 When first, by the bewilder' d pilgrim spied, 
 It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, 
 
 And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, 
 And lights the fearful path on mountain side ; — 
 
 Fair as that beam, although the fairest far. 
 Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, 
 
 Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright 
 star, 
 Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the 
 brow of War. 
 
 II. 
 
 That early beam, so fair and sheen, 
 
 Was twinkling through the hazel screen. 
 
 When, rousing at its glimmer red. 
 
 The warriors left their lowly bed, 
 
 Look'd out upon the dappled sky, 
 
 Mutter'd their soldier matins by, 
 
 And then awaked their fire to steal, 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 100 
 
 As short and rude, their soldier meal. 
 That o'er, the Gael' around him threw 
 His graceful plaid of varied hue, 
 And, true to promise, led the way, 
 By thicket green and mountain grey. 
 A wildering path ! they winded now 
 Along the precipice's brow, 
 Commanding the rich scenes beneath. 
 The windings of the Forth, and Teith, 
 And all the vales between that lie, 
 Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky ; 
 Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance 
 Gain'd not the length of horseman's lance. 
 'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain 
 Assistance from the hand to gain ; 
 So tangled oft, that, bursting through, 
 Each hawthorne shed her showers of dew,- 
 That diamond dew, so pure and clear, 
 It rivals all but Beauty's tear ! 
 
 III. 
 
 At length they came where, stern and steep, 
 The hill sinks down upon the deep. 
 Here Vennachar in silver flows, 
 There, ridge, on ridge, Benledi rose ; 
 Ever the hollow path twined on, 
 Beneath steep bank and threatening stone : 
 An hundred men might hold the post 
 With hardihood against a host. 
 The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 
 Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, 
 With shingles bare and cliffs between. 
 And patches bright of bracken green, 
 And heather black, that waved so high. 
 It held the copse in rivalry. 
 
101 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, 
 
 But where the lake slept deep and still, 
 Dank osier fringed the swamp and hill ; 
 And oft both path and hill were torn, 
 Where wintry torrent down had borne, 
 And heap'd upon the cumber' d land 
 Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 
 So toilsome was the road to trace, 
 The guide, abating of his pace, 
 Let slowly through the pass's jaws. 
 And ask'd Fitz-James by what strange cause 
 He sought these wilds, traversed by few, 
 Without a pass from Koderick 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 dream' d not now to claim its aid. 
 When here, but three days since, I came, 
 Bewilder'd in pursuit of game. 
 All seem'd as peaceful and as still, 
 As the mist slumbering on yon hill, 
 Thy dangei ous Chief was then afar. 
 Nor soon expected back from war. 
 Thus said, at least, niy mountain guide, 
 Though deep, perchance, the villain lied. 
 "Yet w]iy a second venture try ?" — 
 " A warrior thou, and ask me why ! — 
 Moves our free course by such fix'd cause, 
 As gives the poor mechanic laws? 
 Enough, I sought to drive away 
 The lazy hours of peaceful day ; 
 Slight cause will then suffice to guide 
 A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — 
 A falcon flown, a greyhound stray' d, 
 The merry glance of mountain maid ; 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 102 
 
 Or, if a path be dangerous known, 
 The danger's self is hu-e alone. '' — 
 
 V. 
 
 "Thy secret keep, I urge thee not : — 
 Yet, ere again you sought this spot, 
 Say, heard ye nought of lowland war, 
 Against Clan- Alpine raised by Mar ? 
 " — No, by my word ;— of bands prepared 
 To guard King James's sports I heard ; 
 Nor doubt I aught, but when they hear 
 This muster of the mountaineer, 
 Their pennons will abroad be flung, 
 Which else in Doune had peaceful hung, " — 
 ** Free be they flung ! for we were loth 
 Their silken folds should feast the moth. 
 Free be they flung ! — as free shall wave 
 Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave. 
 But, Stranger, peaceful since you came, 
 Bewilder' d in the mountain game, 
 Whence the bold boast by which you show 
 Vich-Alpine's vow'd and mortal foe ?" 
 "Wariior, but yester-morn, I knew 
 Nought of thy Chieftain Koderick Dhu, 
 Save as an outlaw 'd desperate man. 
 The chief of a rebellious clan, 
 Who, in the Regent's court and sight, 
 With ruffian dagger stabb'd a knight ; 
 Yet this alone might from his part 
 Sever each true and loyal heart- " — 
 
 VI. 
 
 Wrothfnl at such arraignment foul. 
 Dark lower'd the clans-man's sable scowl, 
 A space he paused, then sternly said, — 
 " And heard'st thou why he drew his blade? 
 Heard'st thou tliat shameful word and blow 
 Brought Eoderick's vengeance on his foe? 
 
103 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 What reck'd the Chieftain if he stood 
 On Highland heath, or Holy-Hood ? 
 He rights such wrong where it is given, 
 If it were in the court of heaven. " 
 " Still it was outrage ; — yet, 'tis true, 
 Not then claim' d sovereignty his due ; 
 While Albany, with feehle hand, 
 Held borrow'd truncheon of command, ^ 
 The young King, mew'd in Stirling bower, 
 Was stranger to respect and power. 
 But then, thy Chieftain's robber life !^- 
 Winning mean prey by causeless strife. 
 Wrenching from ruin'd lowland swain 
 His herds and harvest rear'd in vain, — 
 Methinks a soul, like thine, should scorn 
 The spoils from such foul foray borne. " — 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Gael beheld him grim the while, 
 And aoswer'd with disdainful smile, — 
 "Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
 I mark'd thee send delighted eye. 
 Far to the south and east, where lay, 
 Extended in succession gay. 
 Deep waving fields and pastures green. 
 With gentle slopes and groves between :- 
 These fertile plains, that soften' d vale, 
 Were onee the birthright of the Gael ; 
 The stranger came with iron hand, 
 And from our fathers reft the land. 
 Where dwell we now ! See, rudely swell 
 Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 
 Ask we this savage hill we tread. 
 For fatten'd steer or household bread ; 
 Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 
 And well the mountain might reply,— 
 " To you, as to your sires of yore, 
 

 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 104 
 
 Belong the target and ciaymore ! 
 
 I give you shelter in my breast, 
 
 Your own good blades must win the rest. ' — 
 
 Pent in this fortress of the North, 
 
 Think'st thou we will not sally forth, 
 
 To spoil the spoiler as we may 
 
 And from the robber rend the prey ! 
 
 Aye, by my soul ! While on yon plain 
 
 The Saxon rears one shock of grain ; 
 
 While, of ten thousand herds, there strays 
 
 But one along yon river's maze, — 
 
 The Gael, of plain and river heir, 
 
 Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share, i 
 
 Where live the mountain chiefs who hold, 
 
 That plundering lowland field and fold 
 
 Is aught but retribution true ? 
 
 Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu. " — 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Answer' d Fitz- James, — " And, if I sought, 
 
 Think'st thou no other could be brought? 
 
 What deem ye of my path waylaid ? 
 
 My life given o'er to ambuscade?" 
 
 " As of a meed to rashness due ; 
 
 Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 
 
 " I seek my hound or falcon stray 'd, 
 
 I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, — 
 
 Free hadst thou been to come and go ; 
 
 But secret path marks secret foe. 
 
 Nor yet, for this, even as a spy, 
 
 Hadst thoa unheard been doom'd to die, 
 
 Save to fulfil an augury. " — 
 
 " Well, let it pass ; nor will I now 
 
 Fresh cause of enmity avow, 
 
 To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. 
 
 Enough, I am by promise tied 
 
105 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 To match me with this man of pride : 
 
 Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen 
 
 la peace ; but when I come agen, 
 
 I come with banner, brand and bow, 
 
 As leader seeks his mortal foe. 
 
 For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower, 
 
 Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, 
 
 As I, until before me stand 
 
 This rebel chieftain and his band. " — 
 
 IX. 
 
 ''Have, then, thy wish !"— he whistled shrill, 
 
 And he was answer'd from the hill ; 
 
 Wild as the scream of the curlew, 
 
 From crag to crag, the signal flew. 
 
 Instant, through copse and heath, arose 
 
 Bonnets and spears and bended bows ; 
 
 On right, on left, above, below. 
 
 Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; 
 
 From shingles grey their lances start, 
 
 The bracken brush 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 garrison d the glen 
 
 At once with full five hundred men. 
 
 As if the yawning hill to heaven 
 
 A subterranean host had given. 
 
 Watching their leader's beck and will, 
 
 All silent there they stood and still. 
 
 Like the loose crags whose threatening mass 
 
 Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass. 
 
 As if an infant's touch could urge 
 
 Their headlong passage down the verge, 
 
 With step and weapon forward flung. 
 
 Upon the mountain-side they hung. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
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 The mountaineer cast glance of pride 
 
 Along Benledi's living side, 
 
 Then fix'd his eye and sable brow 
 
 Full on Fitz-James — " How say'st thou now? 
 
 These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true ; 
 
 And, Saxon, — I am Koderick Dhu!" 
 
 X. 
 
 Fitz-James was brave : — Though to his heart 
 The life-blood thrill' d with sudden start, 
 He mann'd himself with dauntless air, 
 Keturn'd 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 mark'd — and in his eyes 
 Eespect was mingled with surprise. 
 And the stern joy which warriors feel 
 In foemen worthy of their steel. 
 Short space he stood — then waved his hand : 
 Down sunk the disappearing band ; 
 Each warrior vanish 'd where he stood. 
 In broom or bracken, heath or wood ; 
 Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 
 In osieis pale and copses low ; 
 It seem'd as if their mother Earth 
 Had swallow'd up her warlike birth. 
 Tlie wind's last breath had toss'd in air, 
 Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair,— - 
 The next but swept a lone hill-side. 
 Where heath and fern were waving wide ; 
 The sun's last glance was glinted back. 
 From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,- 
 The next, all unreflected, shone 
 On bracken green, and cold grey stone. 
 10 
 
107 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Fitz-James looked round— yet scarce believed 
 The witness that his sight received ; 
 Such apparition well might seem 
 Delusion of a dreadful dream. 
 Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 
 And to his look the Chief replied, 
 "Fear nought— nay, that I need not say- 
 But — doubt not aught from mine array. 
 Thou art my guest ;— I pledged my word 
 As far as Coilantogle's ford : 
 Nor would I call a clans-man's brand 
 For aid against one valiant hand, 
 Though on our strife lay every vale 
 Rent by the Saxon from the Gael, 
 So move we on ; — I only meant 
 To shew the reed on which you leant, 
 Deeming this path you might pursue 
 Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. "— ' 
 They moved : — I said Fitz-James was brave, 
 As ever knight that belted glaive ; 
 Yet dare not say that now his blood 
 Kept on its wont and temper'd flood. 
 As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 
 That seeming lonesome pathway through. 
 Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife 
 With lances, that to take his life 
 Waited but signal from a guide, 
 So late dishonour' d and defied. 
 Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 
 The vanish' d guardians of the ground. 
 And still from copse and heather deep. 
 Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, 
 And in the plover's shrilly strain, 
 The signal whistle heard again. 
 Nor breathed he free till far behind 
 
XI 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 108 
 
 The pass was left; for then they wind 
 Along a wide and level green, 
 Where neither tree nor tuft was seen. 
 Nor rush, nor bush of broom was near, 
 To hide a bonnet or a spear. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The Chief in silence strode before, 
 
 And reach' d that torrent's sounding shore, 
 
 Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, 
 
 From Vennachar in silver breaks. 
 
 Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 
 
 On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 
 
 Where Rome, the Empress of the world, 
 
 Of yore her eagle wings unfurl'd.' 
 
 And here his course the Chieftain staid, 
 
 Threw down his target and his plaid, 
 
 And to the Lowland warrior said: — 
 
 " Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, 
 
 Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. 
 
 This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, 
 
 This head of a rebellious clan, 
 
 Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward. 
 
 Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 
 
 Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 
 
 A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 
 
 See, here, all vantageless I stand, 
 
 Arm'd, like thyself, with single brand;2 
 
 For this is Coilantogle ford, 
 
 And thou must keep thee with thy sword." — ■ 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The Saxon paused: — " I ne'er delay'd, 
 When foeman bade me draw my blade; 
 Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed tliy death: 
 Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, 
 And my deep debt for life preserved, 
 A better meed have well deserved: 
 Can naught but blood our feud atone ? 
 
109 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 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 foenian's life, 
 
 His party conquers in the strife.' " — 
 
 "Then, by my word, " the Saxon said, 
 
 " The riddle is already read. 
 
 Seek yonder brake beneath the cliflf, 
 
 There lies Ked Murdoch, stark and stiff. 
 
 Thus Fate has solved her prophecy, 
 
 Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 
 
 To James, at Stirling, let us go, 
 
 When, if thou wilt be stiJ] 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 flash'd from Eoderick's eye — 
 
 " Soars thy presumption then so high. 
 
 Because a wi'etched kern ye slew, 
 
 Homage to name to Roderick Dhu? 
 
 He yields not, he, to man nor Fate ! 
 
 Thou add'st but fuel to my hate : — 
 
 My clans-man's blood demands revenge. — 
 
 Not yet prepared ? — By Heaven, I change 
 
 My thought, and hold thy valour light 
 
 As that of some vain carpet knight, 
 
 Who ill deserved my courteous care, 
 
 And whose best boast is but to wear 
 
 A braid of his fair lady's hair. " — 
 
 — "I thank thee, Roderick, for the woid ! 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 110 
 
 It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; 
 For I have sworn this braid to stain 
 In the best blood that warms thy vein. 
 Now, truce, farewell! and ruth begone! — 
 Yet think not that by thee alone, 
 Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ; 
 Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, 
 Start at my whistle clans-men 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, 
 Each on the ground his scabbard threw, 
 Each look'd to sun, and stream, and plain, 
 As what they ne'er might see again ; 
 Then foot, and point, and eye opposed. 
 In dubious strife they darkly closed. 
 
 XV. 
 Ill fared it then with Koderick Dhu, 
 That on the field his targe he threw,' 
 AVhose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
 Had death so often dash'd aside ; 
 For, train" d abroad his arms to wield 
 Fitz- James's blade was sword and shield. 2 
 He practiced every pass and ward, 
 To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; 
 While less expert though stronger far, 
 The Gael maintain'd unequal war. 
 Thi'ee 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 Eoderick felt the fatal drain, 
 And showered his blows like wintry rain ; 
 And, as firm rock, or castle roof. 
 
Ill 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Agaiust the winter shower is proof, 
 The foe invuhierable still 
 Foil'd his wild rage by steady skill ; 
 Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 
 Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 
 And, backwards borne npon 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 lier young, 
 Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ;' 
 Keceived, but reck'd not of a wound. 
 And lock'd his arms his foeman round. — 
 Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! 
 No maiden's band is round thee thrown ! 
 That desperate grasp thy frame might feel. 
 Through bars of brass and triple steel !— 
 They tug, they strain !— down, down, they go, 
 The Gael above, Fitz-James below, 
 The Chieftain's gripe his throat compress' d, 
 His knee was planted in his breast ; 
 His clotted locks he backward threw, 
 Across his brow his hand he drew. 
 From blood and mist to clear his sight, 
 Then gleam' d aloft his dagger bright! 
 But hate and fury ill supplied 
 The stream of life's exhausted tide. 
 And all too late the advantage came, 
 To turn the odds of deadly game ; 
 For, while the dagger gleam 'd on high, 
 Eeel'd soul and sense, reel'd brain and eye. 
 

 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 112 
 
 Down came the blow ! but in the heath 
 The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 
 The struggling foe may now unclasp 
 The fainting Chiefs relaxing grasp ; 
 Unwounded from the dreadful close, 
 But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 
 
 XVII. 
 He falter'd thanks to Heaven for life, 
 Kedeem'd, unhop'd, from desperate strife ; 
 Next on his foe his look he cast. 
 Whose every gasp appear'd his last ; 
 In Roderick' s gore he dipp'd the braid, — 
 " Poor Blanche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid 
 Yet with thy foe must die, or live, 
 The praise that Faith and Valor give. " — 
 With that he blew a bugle-note, 
 Undid the collar from his throat, 
 Unbonneted, and by the wave 
 Sate down his brow and hands to lave. 
 Then faint afar are heard the feet 
 Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 
 The sounds increase, and now are seen 
 Four mounted squires in Lincoln green ; 
 Two who bear lance, and two who lead, 
 By loosen'd rein, a saddled steed ; 
 Each onward held his headlong course. 
 And by Fitz-James rein'd up his horse,— 
 With wonder view'd the bloody spot — 
 — " Exclaim not, gallants ! question not. — 
 You, Herbert and Lufness, alight. 
 And bind the wounds of yonder knight ; 
 Let the grey 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. 
 
113 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The sun rides high ;— I must be boune 
 To see the archer-game at noon ; 
 But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — 
 De Vaux and Herries follow me. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Stand, Bayard, stand ! " — the steed obey'd, 
 
 With arching neck and bended head, 
 
 And glancing eye, and quivering ear, 
 
 As if he loved his lord to hear. 
 
 No foot Fitz- James in stirrup staid, 
 
 No grasp upon the saddle laid, 
 
 But wreathed his left hand in the mane, 
 
 And lightly bounded from the plain, 
 
 Turn'd on the horse his armed heel. 
 
 And stirred his courage with the steel. 
 
 Bounded the fiery steed in air, 
 
 The rider sat erect and fair. 
 
 Then, like a bolt from steel cross-bow 
 
 Forth launch' d, along the plain they go. 
 
 They dash'd that rapid torrent through, 
 
 And up Carhonie's hill they flew ; 
 
 Still at the gallop prick' d the Knight, 
 
 His merry-men follow' d as they might. 
 
 Along thy banks, swift Teith !they ride. 
 
 And in the race they mock thy tide ; 
 
 Torry and Lendrick now are past. 
 
 And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; 
 
 They rise, the banner' d towers of Doune, 
 
 They sink in distant woodland soon ; 
 
 Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire. 
 
 They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre ; 
 
 They mark just glance and disappear 
 
 The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; 
 
 They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides. 
 
 Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides, 
 
 And on the opposing shore take ground, 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 114 
 
 With splash, with scramble, and with bound. 
 Right-hand they leave thy clilis, Craig- Forth ! 
 And soon the bulwark of the North, 
 Grey Stirling, with her towers and town, 
 Upon their fleet career look'd down 
 
 XIX. 
 
 As up the flinty path they strain'd. 
 
 Sudden his steed the leader rein'd ; 
 
 A signal to his squire he flung, 
 
 Wlio instant to his stirrup sprung : — 
 
 " Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman grey, 
 
 Who town- ward holds the rocky way ; 
 
 Of stature tall and poor array ? 
 
 Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride. 
 
 With which he scales the mountain side ? 
 
 Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom ?"-- 
 
 " No, by my word ; — a burly groom 
 
 He seems, who in the field or chase 
 
 A baron's train would nobly grace. " — 
 
 "Out, out, De Vaux ! can fear supply, 
 
 And jealousy, no sharper eye? 
 
 Afar, ere to the hill he drew, 
 
 That stately form and step I knew ; 
 
 Like form in Scotland is not seen, 
 
 Treads not such step on Scottish green. 
 
 'Ti? James of Douglas, by St. Serle ! 
 
 The uncle of the banish'd Earl, 
 
 Away, away, to court, to show 
 
 The near approach of dreaded foe ; 
 
 The King must stand upon his guard ; 
 
 Douglas and he must meet prepared. " — 
 
 Then right-hand wheel' d their steeds, and straight 
 
 They won the castle's postern gate. 
 
 XX. 
 
 The Douglas, who had bent his way 
 From Cambus-Kennetli's abbey grey. 
 
115 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Now, as be climb' d tbe rocky sbelf, 
 
 Held sad communion witb bimself: — 
 
 " Yes ! all is true my fears could frame; 
 
 A prisoner lies tbe noble Grasme, 
 
 And fiery Roderick soon must feel 
 
 The vengeance of tbe royal steel. 
 
 I, only I, can ward tbeir fate, — 
 
 God grant tbe ransom come not late ! 
 
 Tbe Abbess batb ber promise given, 
 
 My cbild sball be tbe bride of Heaven ;- 
 
 — Be pardon'd one repining tear! 
 
 For He wbo gave ber, knows bow dear, 
 
 How excellent ! — but that is by, 
 
 And now my business is to die. 
 
 — Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread 
 
 A Douglas by bis sovereiga bled, 
 
 And thou, oh sad and fatal mound [i 
 
 That oft has heard tbe death-axe sound, 
 
 As on tbe noblest of tbe land 
 
 Fell tbe stearn headsman's bloody band,- 
 
 Tbe dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 
 
 Prepare— for Douglas seeks his doom! 
 
 — But hark ! what blithe and jolly peal 
 
 Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ? 
 
 And see ! upon tbe crowded street, 
 
 In motly groups what maskers meet 
 
 Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, 
 
 And merry m or rice-dancers come. 
 
 I guess, by all this quaint array, 
 
 Tbe burghers bold tbeir sports to-day. 
 
 James will be there; — he loves such show, 
 
 Where tbe good yeoman bends his bow, 
 
 And tbe tough wrestler foils bis foe. 
 
 As well as where, in proud career. 
 
 The bigb-born filter shivers spear. 
 
 Ill follow to tbe Castle-park, 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
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 And play my prize ;— King James shall mark 
 If age has tamed these sinews stark, 
 Whose force so oft, in happier days, 
 His boyish wonder loved to praise. " — 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The castle-gates were open flung, 
 
 The quivering draw- bridge rock'd and rung, 
 
 And echoed loud the flinty street 
 
 Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, 
 
 As slowly down the steep descent 
 
 Fail- Scotland's king and nobles went, 
 
 While all along the crowded way 
 
 Was jubilee and loud huzza. 
 
 And ever James was bending low, 
 
 To his white jennet's saddle bow. 
 
 Doffing his cap to city dame, 
 
 Who smil'd and blush' d for pride and shame. 
 
 And well the simperer might be vain, — 
 
 He chose the fairest of the train. 
 Gravely he greets each city sire, 
 
 Commends each pageant's quaint attire. 
 Gives to the dancers thanks aloud. 
 And smiles and nods upon the crowd, 
 Who rend the heaven with their acclaims, 
 " Long live the Commons' King, King James !' 
 Behind the King throng' d peer and knight, 
 And noble dame and damsel bright. 
 Whose fiery steeds ill brook'd the stay 
 Of the steep street and crowded way. 
 — But in the train you might discern 
 Dark lowering brow and visage stern ; 
 There nobles mourn'd their pride restrain'd, 
 And the mean burgher's joys disdain'd ; 
 And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan. 
 Were each from home a banish'd man. 
 There thought upon their own grey tower. 
 
117 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Their waving woods, their feudal power, 
 And deem'd themselves a shameful part 
 Of pageant which they cursed in heart 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Now in the Castle-paik drew out 
 Their checquer'd bands the joyous rout. 
 Their 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 quarter-staff and cowl. 
 Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, 
 Maid Marion, fair as ivory bone, 
 Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John; 
 Their bugles challenge all that will, 
 In archery to prove their skill. 
 The Douglas bent a bow of might,— 
 His first shaft centered 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 archer's stake, 
 Fondly he watch' d, with watery eye, 
 Some answering glance of sympathy, — 
 No kind emotion made reply ! 
 Indifferent as to archer wight, 
 The monarch gave the arrow bright.2 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Now, clear the ring ! for, hand to hand, 
 The manly wrestlers take their stand. 
 Two o'er the rest superior rose, 
 And proud demanded mightier foes. 
 Nor call'd in vain; for Douglas came 
 — For life is Hugh of Larbert lame; 
 Scarce better John of Alloa's fare, 
 "Whom senseless home his comrades bear. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 118 
 
 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. 
 
 Douglas would speak, but in his breast 
 
 His struggling soul his words suppress' d : 
 
 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 grey-hair' d sires who know the past. 
 
 To strangers point the Douglas-cast, 
 
 And moralize on the decay 
 
 Of Scottish strength in modern day. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The vale with loud applauses rang. 
 
 The Ladies' Kock sent back the clang : 
 
 The King, with look unmoved, bestow'd 
 
 A purse well fill'd with pieces broad. 
 
 Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, 
 
 And threw the gold among the crowd, 
 
 Who now, with anxious wonder, scan, 
 
 And sharper glance, the dark grey man ; 
 
 Till whispers rose among the throng, 
 
 That heart so free, and hand so strong. 
 
 Must to the Douglas blood belong ; 
 
 The old men mark'd, and shook the head. 
 
 To see his hair with silver spread. 
 
 And wink'd aside, and told each son 
 
 Of feats upon the English done. 
 
 Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 
 11 
 
119 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Was exiled from his native land. 
 The women prais'd his stately form, 
 Though wreck'd hy many a winter's storm 
 The youth with awe and wonder saw 
 His strength surpassing Nature's law. 
 Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, 
 Till murmur rose to clamors loud. 
 But not a glance from that proud ring 
 Of peers who circled round the King, 
 With Douglas held communion kind, 
 Or call'd the banish 'd man to mind ; 
 No, not from those who, at the chase, 
 Once held his side the honor' d place. 
 Begirt his board, and, in the field, 
 Found safety underneath his shield ; 
 For he, whom royal eyes disown. 
 When was his form to courtiers known ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The Monarch saw the gambols flag, 
 
 And bade let loose a gallant stag. 
 
 Whose pride, the holiday to crown. 
 
 Two favourite grey-hounds should pull down. 
 
 That venison free, and Bordeaux wine. 
 
 Might serve the archery to dine. 
 
 But Lufra — whom from Douglas' side 
 
 Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide, 
 
 The fleetest hound in all the North, — 
 
 Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. 
 
 She left the royal hounds mid-way. 
 
 And, dashing on the antler'd prey. 
 
 Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank. 
 
 And deep the flowing life-blood drank. 
 
 The King's stout huntsman saw the sport 
 
 By strange intruder broken short, 
 
 Came up, and with his leash unbound, 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 120 
 
 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 sphit proud, 
 
 Had borne the pity of the crowd ; 
 
 ButLufrahad been fondly bred, 
 
 To share his board, to watch his bed. 
 
 And oft would Ellen, Lufra's neck, 
 
 In maiden glee, with garlands deck ; 
 
 They were such play-mates, that with name 
 
 Of Lufra, Ellen's image came 
 
 His stifled wrath is brimming high. 
 
 In darken 'd brow and flashing eye : 
 
 As waves before the bark divide. 
 
 The crowd gave way before his stride ; 
 
 Needs bnt a buffet and no more. 
 
 The groom lies senseless in his gore. 
 
 Such blow no other hand could deal, 
 
 Though gauntleted in glove of steel. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Then clamor' d loud the royal train, 
 And brandish' d swords and staves amain. 
 But stern the Baron's warning — '' Back ! 
 Back ! on your lives, ye mmiial pack ! 
 Beware the Douglas, — Yes! behold 
 King James, the Douglas, doom'd of old, 
 And vainly sought for near and far, 
 A victim to atone the war, 
 A willing victim, now attends, 
 Nor craves thy grace but for his friends. " — 
 — "Thus is my clemency repaid? 
 Presumptions Lord !" the Monarch said ; 
 "Of thy mis-proud, ambitious clan. 
 Thou, James of Both well, wert the man, 
 The only man, in whom a foe 
 My woman mercy would not know ; 
 
121 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 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 off the sports!"— he said, and frown'd, 
 And bid our horsemen clear the ground. " — 
 
 XXVII. 
 Then uproar wild and misarray 
 Marr'd the fair form of festal day. 
 The horsemen prick' d among the crowd, 
 Eepell'd by threats and insult loud ; 
 To earth are borne the old and weak, 
 The timorous fly, the women shriek ; 
 With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, 
 The hardier urge tumultuous war. 
 At once round Douglas darkly sweep 
 The royal spears in circle deep. 
 And slowly scale the path- way steep ; 
 While on the rear in thunder pour 
 The rabble with disorder' d roar. 
 With grief the noble Douglas saw 
 The commons rise against the law, 
 And to the leading soldier said, 
 '• Sir John of Hyndford ! 'twas my blade, 
 That knighthood on thy shoulder laid ; 
 For that good deed, permit me then 
 A word with these misguided men. — 
 
 XXYIII. 
 "Hear, gentle friends, ere yet, for me, 
 Ye break the bands of fealty. 
 My life, my honor, and my cause, 
 I tender free to Scotland's laws. 
 Are these so weak as must require 
 The aid of your misguided ire ? 
 

 XXVII. 
 
 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 122 
 
 Or, if I suffer causeless wrong, 
 
 Is then my selfish rage so strong. 
 
 My sense of public weal so low, 
 
 That, for mean vengeance on a foe. 
 
 Those chords of love I should unbind, 
 
 Which knit my country and my kind ? 
 
 no ! believe, in yonder lower 
 
 It will not soothe my captive hour, 
 
 To know those spears our foes should dread, 
 
 For me in kindred gore are red ; 
 
 To know, in fruitless brawl begun, 
 
 For me, that mother w^ails her son ; 
 
 For me that widow's mate expires. 
 
 For me, that orphans weep their sires, 
 
 That patriots mourn insulted laws. 
 
 And curse the Douglas for the cause. 
 
 let your patience ward such ill, 
 
 And keep your right to love me still!" — 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The crowd's wild fury sunk again 
 In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 
 With lifted hands and eyes, they pray'd 
 For blessings on his generous head, 
 Who for his country felt alone, 
 And prized her blood beyond his own 
 Old men, upon the verge of life, 
 Bless'd him who stay'd the civil strife. 
 And mothers held their babes on high, 
 The self-devoted Chief to spy. 
 Triumphant over wrohg 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, 
 
123 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 With sighs, resign' d his honor' d charge. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 The offended Monarch rode apart, 
 With bitter thoughts and swelling heart, 
 And would not now vouchsafe again 
 Through Stirling's streets to lead his train. 
 " Lennox, who would wish to rule 
 This changeling crowd, this common fool ? 
 Hear'st thou, " he said, " the loud acclaim 
 With which they shout the Douglas name ? 
 With like acclaim, the vulgar throat 
 Strain' d for King James their morning note ; 
 With like acclaim they hail'd the day 
 When first I broke the Douglas sway ; 
 And like acclaim would Douglas greet, 
 If he could hurl me from my seat. 
 Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, 
 Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ! 
 Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 
 And fickle as a changeful dream ; 
 Fantastic as a woman's mood. 
 And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood. 
 Thou many-headed monster thing, 
 who would wish to be thy king ! — 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " But soft ! what messenger of speed 
 
 Spurs hitherward his panting steed ? 
 
 I guess his cognizance afar — 
 
 What from our cousin, John of Mar ? — 
 
 ' ' He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound 
 
 Within the safe and guarded ground : 
 
 For some foul purpose yet unknown,— - 
 
 Most sure for evil to the throne, — 
 
 The outlaw' d Chieftain, Roderick Dhu 
 
 Has summon'd his rebellious crevv^ ; 
 
 'Tis said, in James of Both well's aid 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 124 
 
 These loose banditti stand array 'd, 
 
 The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doime, 
 
 To break their muster, march' d, and soon 
 
 Your grace will hear of battle fought; 
 
 But earnestly the Earl besought, 
 
 Till for such danger he provide. 
 
 With scanty train you will not ride." 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 '* Thou warn'st me, I have done amiss, — 
 I should have earlier looked to this: 
 I lost it in this bustling day. 
 — Ketrace with speed thy former way ; 
 Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, 
 The best of mine shall be thy meed. 
 Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 
 We do forbid the intended war: 
 Eoderick, this morn, in single fight, 
 Was made our prisoner by a knight, 
 And Douglas hath himself and cause 
 Submitted to our kingdom's laws. 
 The tidings of their leaders lost 
 Will soon disolve the mountain host; 
 Nor would we that the vulgar feel, 
 For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. 
 Bear Mar our message, Braco, fly." 
 He turn'd his steed, — " My liege, I hie, — 
 Yet, ere I cross this lily lawn, 
 I fear the broadswords will be drawn." — 
 The turf the flying courser spurn'd. 
 And to his towers the King return' d. 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 111 with King James's mood that day 
 Suited gay feast and minstral lay; 
 Soon were dismiss' d the courtly throng, 
 And soon cut short the festal song. 
 Nor less upon the sadden' d town 
 
125 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The evening sunk in sorrow down. 
 The burghers spoke of civil jar. 
 Of rumor'd feuds and mountain war, 
 Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, 
 All up in arms : — the Douglas too, 
 They mourn'd him pent within the hold, 
 " Where stout Earl William was of old, " 
 And there his words the speaker staid. 
 And finger on his lip he laid. 
 Or pointed to his dagger blade. 
 But jaded horsemen, from the west, 
 At evening to the Castle press' d ; 
 And busy talkers said they bore 
 Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ; 
 At noon the deadly fray begun. 
 And lasted till the set of sun. 
 Thus giddy rumor shook the town. 
 Till closed the Night her pennons brown. 
 
 CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 THE GUARD-ROOM. 
 I 
 
 The sun, awakening through the smoky air, 
 
 Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, 
 Rousing each caitiff to his task of care. 
 
 Of sinful man the sad inheritance ; 
 Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, 
 
 Scaring the prowling robber to his den ; 
 Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance, 
 
 And warning student pale to leave his pen, 
 And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 126 
 
 What various scenes, and, I wliat scenes of woe, 
 
 Are witness' d by that red and struggling beam ! 
 The fever' d patient from his pallet low, 
 
 Through crowded hospital beholds its stream ; 
 The ruin'd maiden trembles at its gleam, 
 
 The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, 
 The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream : 
 
 The wakeful mother by the glimmering pale, 
 Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail. 
 
 II. 
 
 At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 
 With soldier-step and weapon clang, 
 While drums, with rolling note, foretell 
 Relief to weary sentinel. 
 Through narrow loop and casement barr'd 
 The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard. 
 And struggling with the smoky air, 
 Deaden'd the torches' yellow glare. 
 In comfortless alliance shone 
 • The lights through arch of blacken' d stone, 
 And show'd wild shapes in garb of war, 
 Faces deform 'd with beard and scar, 
 All haggard from the midnight watch, 
 And fever'd with the stern debauch ; 
 For the oak table's massive board. 
 Flooded with wine, with fragments stored, 
 And beakers drain'd, and cups o'erthrown, 
 Show'd in what sport the night had flown. 
 Some, weary, snored on floor and bench, 
 Some labor'd still their thirst to quench : 
 Some, chill 'd with Avatching, spread their hands 
 O'er the huge chimney's dying brands. 
 While round them, or beside them flung. 
 At every step their harness rung. 
 
 III. 
 These drew not fov their fields the sword. 
 
127 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Like tenants of a feudal lord,* 
 
 Nor own'd the patriarchal claim 
 
 Of Chieftain in their leader's name; 
 
 Adventurers they, from far who roved, 
 
 To live by battle which they loved. 
 
 There the Italian's clouded face, 
 
 The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace; 
 
 The mountain-loving Switzer there 
 
 More freely breathed in mountain air ; 
 
 The Fleming there despised the soil, 
 
 That paid so ill the laborer's toil; 
 
 Their rolls show'd French and German name; 
 
 And merry England's exiles came, 
 
 To share with ill-conceal'd disdain, 
 
 Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. 
 
 All brave in arms, well train' d to wield 
 
 The heavy halberd, brand, and shield; 
 
 In camps, licentious, wild, and bold; 
 
 In pillage, fierce, and uncontroll'd; 
 
 And now by, holytide and feast, 
 
 From rules of discipline released. 
 
 IV. 
 
 They held debate of bloody fray. 
 Fought 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achray. 
 Fierce was their speech, and, 'mid their words, 
 Their hands oft grappled to their swords; 
 Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear 
 Of wounded comrades groaning near, 
 Whose mangled limbs and bodies gored, 
 Bore token of the mountain sword. 
 Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard, 
 Their prayers and feverish wails were heard ; 
 Sad burden to the ruffian joke. 
 And savage oath by fury spoke ! — 
 At length upstarted John of r>i-ent, 
 A yeoman from the banks of Trent; 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 128 
 
 A stranger to respect or fear, 
 
 In peace, a chaser of the deer, 
 
 In host a hardy mutineer, 
 
 But still the boldest of the crew, 
 
 When deed of danger was to do. 
 
 He grieved, that day their games cut short, 
 
 And marr'd the dicer's brawling sport, 
 
 And shouted loud, " Eenew the bowl !" 
 
 And while a merry catch I troll. 
 
 Let each the buxom chorus bear, 
 
 Like brethren of the brand and spear. " — 
 
 soldier's song. 
 Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule 
 Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl, 
 That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black jack. 
 And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ; 
 Yet, whoop, Barnaby ! off with thy liquor. 
 Drink upsees^ out, and a fig for the vicar ! 
 Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 
 The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip ; 
 Says, that Belzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly 
 And Appollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye ; 
 Yet whoop, Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker, 
 Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar ! 
 Our vicar thus preaches — and why should he not ? 
 For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot ; 
 And 'tis right of his office poor laymen to lurch. 
 Who infringe the domains of our good mother Church. 
 Yet, whoop, bully-boys! oft^ with your liquor, 
 Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the vicar ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 The warder's challenge, heard without, 
 Staid in mid-roar the merry shout. 
 
129 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 A soldier to the portal went, — 
 
 Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent ; 
 
 And, beat for jubilee the drum ! 
 
 A maid and a minstrel with him come. " — 
 
 Bertram, a Fleming, grey and scarr'd, 
 
 Was entering now the Court of Guard, 
 
 A harper with him, and, in plaid. 
 
 All muffled close, a moimtain maid, 
 
 Who backward shrunk to scape the view 
 
 Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 
 
 "What news?" they roar' d : — "I only know, 
 
 From noon till eve we fought with foe, 
 
 As wild and as untameable 
 
 As the rude mountains where they dwell. 
 
 On both sides store of blood is lost. 
 
 Nor much success can either boast. " 
 
 "But whence thy captives, friend ? such spoil 
 
 As theirs must needs reward thy toil. 
 
 Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp 
 
 Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp, 
 
 Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, 
 
 The leader of a juggler band. "' — 
 
 VII. 
 
 " No, comrade ; — no such fortune mine. 
 
 After the fight, these sought our line. 
 
 That aged harper and the girl. 
 
 And, having audience of the Earl, 
 
 Mar bade I should purvey them steed, 
 
 And bring them hitherward with speed. 
 
 Forbear your mirth and rude alarm, 
 
 For none shall do Ihem 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 ! 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 130 
 
 I'll have my share howe'er it be, 
 
 Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee. " — 
 
 Bertram his forward step withstood ; 
 
 And, burning in his vengeful mood, 
 
 Old Allan, though unfit for strife, 
 
 Laid hand upon his dagger knife ; 
 
 But Ellen boldly stepp'd between. 
 
 And dropp'd at once the Tartan screen ; — 
 
 So, from his morning cloud, appears 
 
 The sun of May, through summer tears. 
 
 The savage soldiery, amazed, 
 
 As on descended angel gazed : 
 
 Even hardy Brent, abash'd and tamed, 
 
 Stood half admiring, half ashamed. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Boldly she spoke, — " Soldiers, attend! 
 My father was the soldier's friend ; 
 Cheer' d him in camps, in marches led, 
 And with him in the battle bled. 
 Not from the valiant, or the strong, 
 Should exile's daughter suffer wrong. " 
 Answer'd De Brent, most forward still 
 In every feat of good or ill, — 
 " I shame me of the part I play'd ; 
 And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ! 
 An outlaw I by forest laws. 
 And merry Needwood knows the cause. 
 Poor Kose, — if Rose be living now, " — 
 He wiped his iron eye and brow, 
 "Must bear such age, I think, as thou. — 
 Hear ye, my mates ; — I go to call 
 The Captain of our watch to ball : 
 There lies my halbert on the floor ; 
 And he that steps my halbert o'er. 
 To do the maid injurious part. 
 My shaft shall quiver in his heart ! 
 12 
 
131 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Beware loose speech, or jesting rough : 
 Ye all know John De Brent. Enough. " 
 
 IX. 
 
 Their Captain came, a gallant young, — 
 
 (Of Tullihardine's house he sprung,) 
 
 Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight ; 
 
 Gay was his mien, his humor light, 
 
 And, though by courtesy controll'd, 
 
 Forward his speech, his hearing hold. 
 
 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 hoar. 
 
 Like errant damosel of yore ? 
 
 Does thy high quest a knight require, 
 
 Or may the venture suit a squire ? — ■" 
 
 Her dark eye flash'd ;— she paused and sigh'd, 
 
 " what have I to do with pride ! — 
 
 Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, 
 
 A suppliant for a father's life, 
 
 I crave an audience of the King. 
 
 Behold, to back my suit, a ring. 
 
 The royal pledge of grateful claims, 
 
 Given by the monarch to Fitz-James. " 
 
 X. 
 
 The signet ring young Lewis took. 
 With deep respect and alter'd look ; 
 And said, — '' This ring our duties own ; 
 And, pardon, if to worth unknown, 
 
IX. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 132 
 
 In semblance mean obscurely veil'd, 
 
 Lady, in aught my folly fail'd. 
 
 Soon as the day flings wide his gates, 
 
 The King shall know what suitor waits. 
 
 Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower 
 
 Eepose you till his waking hour; 
 
 Female attendance shall obey 
 
 Your hest, for service or array. 
 
 Permit I marshal you the way." 
 
 But, ere she follow' d, with the grace 
 
 And open bounty of her race. 
 
 She bade her slender purse be shared 
 
 Among the soldiers of the guaid. 
 
 The rest with thanks their guerdon took; 
 
 But Brent, with shy and awkward look, 
 
 On the reluctant maiden's hold 
 
 Forced bluntly back the proffer' d gold; — 
 
 " Forgive a haughty English heart, 
 
 And oh, forget its ruder part ! 
 
 The vacant purse shall be my share. 
 
 Which in my barret-cap I'll bear. 
 
 Perchance, in jeopardy of war, 
 
 Where gayer crests may keep afar." — 
 
 With thanks, — 'twas all she could, — the maid 
 
 His rugged courtesy repaid. 
 
 XI. 
 
 When Ellen forth with Lewis went, 
 Allen made suit to John of Brent: — 
 "My lady safe, oh 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. 
 
133 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 With the chiefs birth begins our care ; 
 Our harp must sootlie the infant heii-, 
 Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace 
 His earliest feats of field or chase ; 
 In peace, in war our rank we keep, 
 We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep, 
 Nor leave bim till w^e pour our verse, 
 A doleful tribute ! o'er his hearse. 
 Then let me share his captive lot ; 
 It is my right— deny it not !" — 
 " Little we reck, " said John of Brent, 
 " We Southern men, of long descent ; 
 Nor wot we how a name- -a word — 
 Makes clans-men vassals to a lord ; 
 Yet kind my noble landlord's jiart, — 
 God bless the house of Beaudesert ! 
 And, but I loved to drive the deer, 
 More than to guide the laboring steer, 
 I had not dwelt an. outcast here. 
 Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ; 
 Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt tliou see. "- 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then, from a rusted iron hook, 
 
 A bunch of ponderous keys he took, 
 
 Lighted a torch, and Allan led 
 
 Through grated arch and passage dread. 
 
 Portals they pass'd, where, deep within. 
 
 Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters' din ; 
 
 Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored, 
 
 Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword. 
 
 And many a hideous engine grim. 
 
 For wrenching joint, and crushing limb, 
 
 By artists forni'd, who deem'd it shame 
 
 And sin to give their work a name. 
 
 They halted at a low-brow' d porch. 
 
 And Brent to Allan gave the torch. 
 

 133 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 134 
 
 While bolt and chain he backward roll'd, 
 
 And made the bar imhasp its hold. 
 
 They enter' d : — 'twas a prison-room 
 
 Of stern security and gloom 
 
 Yet not a dungeon ; for the day 
 
 Through lofty gratings found its way, 
 
 And rude and antique garniture 
 
 Deck'd the sad walls and oaken floor ; 
 
 Such as the rugged days of old 
 
 Deemed fit for captive noble's hold. 
 
 •' Here, " said De Brent, " Thou niay'st remain 
 
 Till the leech visit him again. 
 
 Strict is his charge, the warders tell, 
 
 To tend the noble prisoner well. " — 
 
 Retiring then the bolt he drew. 
 
 And the lock's murmurs growl'd anew. 
 
 Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 
 
 A captive feebly raised his head ; 
 
 The wondering Minstrel look'd, and knew 
 
 Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu ! 
 
 For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, 
 
 They, erring, deem'd the Chief he sought. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 As the tall ship whose lofty prore 
 
 Shall never stem the billows more. 
 
 Deserted by her gallant band, 
 
 Amid the breakers lies astrand, — 
 
 So, on his couch, lay Roderick Dhu ! 
 
 And oft his fever' d limbs he threw 
 
 In toss abrupt, as when her sides 
 
 Lie rocking in the advancing tides. 
 
 That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, 
 
 Yet cannot heave her from her seat ; — 
 
 ! how unlike her course on sea ! 
 
 Or his free step on hill and lea ! 
 
 Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, 
 
135 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 — " What of thy Lady ?— of my clan?— 
 
 My mother ? — Douglas ?— tell me all ! 
 
 Have they been riiiu'd in my fall ? 
 
 Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here ! 
 
 Yet speak, — speak boldly, — do not fear, " 
 
 (For Allan, who his mood well kne^v, 
 
 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?" — 
 
 " calm thee. Chief!" the minstrel cried, 
 
 " Ellen is safe ; — " For that, thank Heaven !"— 
 
 "And hopes are for the Douglas given :— 
 
 The Lady Margaret too is well. 
 
 And, for thy clan, — on field or fell, 
 
 Has never harp of minstrel told, 
 
 Of combat fought so true and bold. 
 
 Thy stately pine is yet unbent, 
 
 Though many a goodly bough is rent. " — 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The Chieftain rear'd his form on high, 
 
 And fever's fire was in his eye ; 
 
 But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 
 
 Chequer' d his swarthy brow and cheeks 
 
 —"Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play, 
 
 With measures bold on festal day. 
 
 In yon lone isle, . . . again where ne'er 
 
 Shall harper play, or warrior hear ! . . . . 
 
 That stirring air that peals on high, 
 
 O'er Dermid's race our victory. i — 
 
 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 ! 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 These grates, these walls, shall vanish then. 
 
 For the fan* field of fighting men, 
 
 And my free spirit burst away, 
 
 As if it soar'd from battle-fray. " — 
 
 The trembling bard with awe obey'd, — 
 
 Slow on the harp his hand he laid ; 
 
 But soon remembrance of the sight 
 
 He witness'd from the mountain's height, 
 
 With what old Bertr am told at night, 
 
 Awaken'd the full power of song, 
 
 And bore him in career along ; 
 
 A shallop launch' d on river's tide, 
 
 That slow and fearful leaves the side, 
 
 But, when it feels the middle stream, 
 
 Drives down as swift as lightning's beam. 
 
 XV. 
 
 BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINE.^ 
 
 "The Minstrel came once more to view 
 The eastern ridge of Ben-venue, 
 For, ere he parted, he would say 
 Farewell to lovely Loch-Achray— 
 Where shall he find, in foreign land, 
 So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! — 
 There is no breeze upon the fern, 
 
 No ripple on the lake, 
 Upon her eyrie nods the erne. 
 
 The deer has sought the brake ; 
 The 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. 
 
 13G 
 
137 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Is it the thunder's solemn sound 
 That mutters deep and dread, 
 Or echos from the groaning ground 
 
 The warrior's measured tread? 
 Is it the lightning's quivering glance 
 
 That on the thicket streams, 
 Or do they flash, on spear and lance, 
 The sun's retiring beams? 
 — I see the dagger -crest of Mar, 
 I see the Moray's silver star, 
 Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war. 
 That up the lake comes winding far ! 
 To hero boune for battle strife, 
 
 Or bard of martial lay, 
 'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life, 
 One glance at their array. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 "Their light-arm' d archers far and near 
 
 Survey' d the tangled ground, 
 Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 
 
 A twilight forest frown' d. 
 Their barded horsemen, in the rear. 
 
 The stern battalia crown' d. 
 No cymbal clash' d, no clarion rang, 
 
 Still were the pipe and drum ; 
 Save heavy tread, and armor's clang, 
 
 The sullen march was dumb. 
 There breathed no wind their crests to shake, 
 
 Or wave their flags abroad ; 
 Scarce the frail aspen ^seem'd to quake, 
 
 That shadow' d o'er their road. 
 Their vaward scouts no tidings bring, 
 
 Can rouse no lurking foe, 
 Or spy a trace of living thing, 
 
 Save when they stirr'd the roe. 
 The host moves, like a deep-sea wave. 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 138 
 
 Where rise no rocks its pride to brave, 
 
 High-swelling, dark, and slow. 
 The lake is pass'd, and now they gain 
 A narrow and a broken plain. 
 Before the Trosach's rugged jaws ; 
 And hear the horse and spearmen pause, 
 While to explore the dangerous glen, 
 Dive through the pass the archer-men. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 ' ' At once there rose so wild a yell 
 Within that dark and narrow dell, 
 As all the fiends from heaven that fell, 
 Had peal'd the banner-cry of hell ! 
 
 Forth from the pass in tumult driven, 
 
 Like chaff before the wind of heaven, 
 The archery appear: 
 
 For life ! for life ! their flight they i)ly — 
 
 And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, 
 
 And plaids and bonnets waving high. 
 
 And broad-swords flashing to the sky 
 Are maddening in the rear. 
 Onward they drive, in dreadful race. 
 
 Pursuers and pursued ; 
 Before that tide of flight and chase, 
 How shall it keep its rooted place, 
 
 The spearmen's twilight wood? 
 — ' Down, down, ' cried Mar, 'your lances down ! 
 
 Bear back both friend and foe ! ' 
 Like reeds before the tempest's frown. 
 That serried grove of lances brown 
 
 At once lay levell'd low ; 
 And closely shouldering side to side. 
 The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 
 — 'We'll (luell the savage mountaineer. 
 
 As their TincheP cows the game ! 
 They come as fleet as forest deer, 
 
139 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 We'll drive them back as tame.' — 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 * ' Bearing before them , in their course, 
 The relics of the archer force, 
 Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, 
 Right onward did Clan- Alpine come. 
 
 Above the tide, each broadsword bright 
 
 Was brandishing like beam of light, 
 Each targe was dark below; 
 
 And with the ocean's mighty swing, 
 
 When heaving to the tempest's wing, 
 They hurl'd them on the foe. 
 I heard the lance's shivering crash. 
 As when the whirlwind rends the ash; 
 I heard the broadsword's deadly clang. 
 As if a hundred anvils rang ! 
 But Moray wheel' d his rearward rank 
 Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank, — 
 
 — ' My banner-man, advance ! 
 I see,' he cried, ' their column shake.— 
 Now, gallants ! for your ladies ' sake, 
 
 Upon them with the lance ! ' — 
 The horsemen dash'd among the rout, 
 
 As deer break through the broom; 
 Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, 
 
 They soon make lightsome room. 
 Clan-Alpine's best are backward borne— 
 
 Where, where was Roderick then ! 
 One blast upon his bugle-horn 
 
 Were worth a thousand men. 
 And refluent through the pass of fear 
 
 The battle's tide was pour'd; 
 Vanish'd the Saxon's struggling spear. 
 
 Vanish "d the mountain sword. 
 As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep. 
 
 Receives her roaring linn. 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 140 
 
 As the (lark caverns of the deep 
 
 Suck the wild whirlpool in, 
 So did the deep and darksome pass 
 Devour the battle's mingled mass ; 
 None linger now upon the plain, 
 Save those who ne'er shall fight again. 
 
 XIX 
 
 " Now westward rolls the battle's din, 
 That deep and doubling pass within. 
 — Minstrel, away ! the work of fate 
 Is bearing on : its issue wait. 
 Where the rude Trosach's dread defile 
 Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. — 
 Grey Ben- venue I soon repass' d, 
 Loch-Katrine lay before me cast. 
 
 The sun is set ; — the clouds are met, 
 The lowering scowl of heaven 
 
 An inky hue of livid blue 
 To the deep lake has given ; 
 Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
 Swept o'er the lake, then sunk agen. 
 I heeded not the eddying surge, 
 Mine eye but saw the Trosach's gorge, 
 Mine ear but heard that sullen sound, 
 Which like an earthquake shook the ground, 
 And spoke the stern and desperate strife 
 That parts not but with parting life, 
 Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 
 The dirge of many a passing soul. 
 
 Nearer it comes— the dim -wood glen 
 
 The martial flood disgorged agen, 
 But not in mingled tide ; 
 
 The plaided warriors of the North 
 
 High on the mountain thunder forth. 
 And overhang its side ; 
 
 While by the lake below appears 
 
14:1 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 The dark'uing cloud of Saxon spears. 
 At weary bay each shatter' d band, 
 Eyeing then* foemen sternly stand ; 
 Then- banners stream like tatter'd sail, 
 That flings its fragments to the gale. 
 And broken arms and disarray 
 Mark'd the fell havoc of the day. 
 
 XX. 
 
 "Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, 
 The Saxons stood in sullen trance, 
 Till Moray pointed with his lance. 
 
 And cried — ' Behold yon isle ! — 
 See ! none are left to guard its strand. 
 But women weak, that wring the hand ; 
 'Tis there of yore the robber band 
 
 Their booty wont to pile ; — 
 My purse, with bonnet-pieces store. 
 To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, 
 And loose a shallop from the shore. 
 Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then. 
 Lords of his mate, and brood, and den. " — 
 Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung, 
 On earth his casque and corslet rung. 
 
 He plunged him in the wave : — 
 All saw the deed -the purpose knew. 
 And to their clamors Ben-venue 
 
 A mingled echo gave ; 
 The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 
 The helpless females scream for fear, 
 And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
 'Twas then, as by the outcry riven, 
 Pour'd down at once the lowering heaven ; 
 A whirlwind swept Loch-Katrine's breast, 
 Her billows rear'd their snowy crest. 
 Well for the swimmer swell' d they high. 
 To mar the Highland marksmen's eye ; 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 142 
 
 For round liim shower' d, mid rain and liail, 
 
 The vengeful arrows of the Gael. — 
 
 In vain. —He nears the isle — and lo ! 
 
 His hand is on a shallop's bow. 
 
 —Just then a flash of lightning came, 
 
 It tinged the waves and strand with flame ; — 
 
 I mark'd Duncraggan's widow'd dame, 
 
 Behind an oak I saw her stand, 
 
 A naked dirk gleam 'd in her hand : — 
 
 It darken' d, — but amid the moan 
 
 Of waves I heard a dying groan ;— 
 
 Another flash ! — the spearman floats 
 
 A weltering corse beside the boats. 
 
 And the stern Matron o'er him stood, 
 
 Her hand and dagger streaming blood. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " ' Revenge ! revenge !' the Saxons cried 
 The Gael's exulting shout replied. 
 Despite the elemental rage. 
 Again they hurried to engage ; 
 But, e'er Ihey closed in desperate fight, 
 Bloo:ly 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 minstrel's hand ! — 
 Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 
 How Roderick brook' d his minstrelsy : 
 At first, the Chieftain, to the chime, 
 With lifted hand, kept feeble time ; 
 13 
 
143 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 
 
 Varied his look as changed the song 
 
 At length, no moie his deafen' d ear 
 
 The minstrel melody can hear ; 
 
 His face grows sharp, — his hands are clench' d. 
 
 As if some pang his heart-strings wrench'd ; 
 
 Set are his teeth, his fading eye 
 
 Is sternly fix'd on vacancy ; — 
 
 Thus, motionless, and raoanloss, drew 
 
 His parting breath, stout Eoderick Dhu ! — 
 
 Old Allan-bane look'd on aghast, 
 
 While grim and still his spirit pass'd ; 
 
 But when he saw that life was fled, 
 
 He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 "And art thou cold, and lowly laid, 
 Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 
 Breadal bane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade 
 For thee shall none a requiem say ? 
 — For thee, — who loved the minstrel's lay, 
 For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay. 
 The shelter of her exiled line. 
 E'en in this prison-house of thine, 
 I'll wail for Alpine's honor' d pine ! 
 
 " What groans shall yonder valleys fill ! 
 What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill ! 
 What tears of burning rage shall thrill, 
 When mourns thy tribe thy battles done. 
 Thy fall before the race was won, 
 Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! 
 There breathes not clans-man of thy line, 
 But would have given his life for thine. 
 woe for Alpine's honor'd pine ! 
 

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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 144 
 
 " Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — 
 The captive thrush may brook the cage, 
 The prison' d eagle dies for rage. 
 Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! 
 And, when its notes awake again, 
 Even she. so long beloved in vain, 
 Shall with my harp her voice combine, 
 And mix her woe and tears with mine. 
 To wail Clan-Alpine's honor'd pine. " — 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Ellen, the while, with bursting heart 
 
 Remain' d in lordly bower apart. 
 
 Where play'd, with many-color'd gleams, 
 
 Through storied pane the rising beams. 
 
 In vain on gilded roof they fall, 
 
 And lighten'd up a tapestried wall, 
 
 And for her use a menial train 
 
 A rich collation spread in vain. 
 
 The banquet proud, the chamber gay, 
 
 Scarce drew one curious glance astray, 
 
 Or, if she look'd, 'twas but to say, 
 
 "With better omen dawn'd the day 
 
 In that lone isle, where waved on high 
 
 The dun deer's hide for canopy ; 
 
 Where oft her noble father shared 
 
 The simple meal her care prepared. 
 
 While Lufra, crouching by her side. 
 
 Her station claim'd with jealous pride. 
 
 And Douglas, bent on wood-land game. 
 
 Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, 
 
 Whose answer, oft at random made. 
 
 The wandering of his thoughts betray'd — 
 
 Those who such simple joys have known 
 
 Are taught to prize them when they're gone. 
 
 But sudden, see! she lifts her head ! 
 
 The window seeks with cautious tread. 
 
145 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 What distant music has the power 
 To win her iu this woeful hour ! 
 'Twas from a turret that o'erhung 
 Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN. 
 
 «'My hawk is tired of perch and liood, 
 My idle greyhound loathes his food, 
 My horse is weary of his stall, 
 And I am sick of captive thrall. 
 I wish I were as I have been. 
 Hunting the hart in forests green. 
 With bended bow and blood-hound 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 sunbeam's crawl, 
 Inch after inch, along the wall. 
 The lark was wont my matins ring, 
 The sable rook my vespers sing ; 
 These towers, although a king's they be 
 Have not a hall of joy for me. 
 
 " No more at dawning morn I rise, 
 And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, 
 Drive the fleet deer the forest through, 
 And homeward wend with evening dew ; 
 A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 
 And lay my trophies at her feet. 
 While fled the eve on wings of glee, — 
 That life is lost to love and me !" — 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The heart-sick lay was hardly said. 
 The list'ner had not turn'd her head, 
 It trickled still, the starting tear, 
 
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TPIE LADY OF THE LAKE. 146 
 
 When light a footstep struck her ear, 
 
 And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near. 
 
 She turn'd the hastier, lest again 
 
 The prisoner should renew his strain. 
 
 "Oh welcome, brave Fitz-James ! " she said; 
 
 " How may an almost orphan maid 
 
 Pay the deep debt " " Oh say not so! 
 
 To me no gratitude you owe. 
 Not mine, alas ! the boon to give, 
 And bid thy noble father live; 
 I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, 
 With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 
 No tyrant he, though ire and pride 
 May lead his better mood aside. 
 Come, Ellen, come ! -'tis more than time; 
 He holds his court at morning prime." 
 With beating heart, and bosom wrung, 
 As to a brother's arm she clung. 
 Gently he dried the falling tear. 
 And gently whisper' d hope and cheer; 
 Her faltering steps half led, half stay'd, 
 Through gallery fair and high arcade, 
 Till, at his touch, its wings of pride 
 A portal arch unfolded wide. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Within 'twas brilliant all and light, 
 A thronging scene of figures bright; 
 It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight, 
 As when the setting sim has given 
 Ten thousand hues to summer even. 
 And, from their tissue, fancy frames 
 Aerial knights and fairy dames. 
 Still by Fitz- James her footing stay'd; 
 A few faint steps she forward made. 
 Then slow her drooping head she raised, 
 And fearful round the presence gazed; 
 
147 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 For him she sought, who own'd this state, 
 
 The dreaded prince whose will was fate ! — 
 
 She gazed on many a princely port, 
 
 Might well have ruled a royal court ; 
 
 On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 
 
 Then turn'd bewilder'd and amazed, 
 
 For all stood hare ; and in the room, 
 
 Fitz-Janies 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, iTi simple Lincoln green, 
 
 The centre of the glittering ring, — 
 
 And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King! ' 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 As wreath of snow, on mountain breast. 
 
 Slides from the rock that gave it rest, 
 
 Poor Ellen glided from her stay, 
 
 And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; 
 
 No word her choking voice commands, — 
 
 She show'd the ring— she clasp'd her hands. 
 
 ! not a moment could he brook. 
 
 The generous prince, that suppliant look ! 
 
 Gently he raised her, — and, the while. 
 
 Check' d with a glance the circle's smile : 
 
 Graceful, but grave, her brow he kiss'd. 
 
 And bade her terrors be dismiss' d : — 
 
 " Yes, Fair ; the wandering poor Fitz-James 
 
 The fealty of Scotland claims : 
 
 To hiin thy woes, thy wishes bring ; 
 
 He will redeem his signet ring. 
 
 Ask nought for Douglas ; — ^^ester even. 
 
 His prince and he have much forgiven : 
 
 Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 
 
 I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 
 
 We would not to the vulgar crowd 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE, 148 
 
 Yield wliat they craved with clamor loud; 
 Calmly we heard and judged his cause, 
 Our council aided, and our laws. 
 I staunch'd thy father's death-feud stern, 
 With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn; 
 And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own 
 The friend and bulwark of our Throne. — 
 But lovely infidel ! how now ? 
 What clouds thy misbelieving brow ? 
 Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid; 
 Thou must confirm this doubting maid." 
 
 XXVIIL 
 
 Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, 
 
 And on his neck his daughter hung. 
 
 The Monarch drank, that happy hour, 
 
 The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — 
 
 When it can say, with godhke voice, 
 
 Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! 
 
 Yet would not James the general eye 
 
 On Nature's raptures long should pry; 
 
 He stepp'd between— " Nay, Douglas, nay. 
 
 Steal not my proselyte away ! 
 
 The riddle 'tis my right to read. 
 
 That brought this happy chance to speed. — 
 
 Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 
 
 In life's more low but happier way, 
 
 'Tis under name which veils my power, 
 
 Nor falsely veils -for Stirling's tower 
 
 Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims.* 
 
 And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 
 
 Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, 
 
 Thus learn to right the injured cause." — 
 
 Then in a tone apart and low, 
 
 —''Ah, little trait'ress ! none must know 
 
 What idle dream, what lighter thought, 
 
 What vanity full dearly bought, 
 
1J:9 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 
 
 My spell-bound steps to Ben-venue, 
 
 In dangerous hour, and all but gave 
 
 Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive !" — 
 
 Aloud he spoke — "Thou still dost hold 
 
 That little talisman of gold, 
 
 Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring — 
 
 What seeks fair Ellen of the King?" 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Full well the conscious maiden guess'd 
 
 He probed the weakness of her breast ; 
 
 But, with that consciousness, there came 
 
 A light' ning of her fears for Graeme, 
 
 And more she deem'd the Monarch's ire 
 
 Kindled 'gainst him, who for her sire, 
 
 Rebellious broad-sword boldly drew, 
 
 And, to her generous feeling true. 
 
 She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. — 
 
 " Forbear thy suit :— the King of Kings 
 
 Alone can stay life's parting wings. 
 
 I know his heart, I know his hand, 
 
 Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand 
 
 My fairest earldom ^vonld I give 
 
 To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live ! — 
 
 Hast thou no other boon to crave ? 
 
 No other captive friend to save ? " — 
 
 Blushing, she tuvn'd her from the King, 
 
 And to the Douglas gave the ring, 
 
 As if she wish'd her sire to speak 
 
 The suit that stain'd her glowing cheek. — 
 
 " Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, 
 
 And stubborn justice holds her course. 
 
 Malcolm, come forth ! " — And at the word 
 
 Down kneel' d the Gramme to Scotland's Lord. 
 
 " For thee, rash youth, no sui)pliant sues, 
 
 From thee may A^engeance claim her dues. 
 
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THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 150 
 
 Who, iiiirtured underneath our smile, 
 Hast paid our care hy treacherous wile, 
 And sought, amid thy faithful clan, 
 A refuge for an outlaw' d mnn. 
 Dishonoring thus thy loyal name, — 
 Fetters and warder for the Grseme ! " — 
 His chain of gold the King unstrung, 
 The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, 
 Then gently drew the glittering band, 
 And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 
 
 Harp of the North, farewell ! The hills grow dark. 
 
 On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; 
 In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, 
 
 The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending, 
 Kesume 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 
 
 May idly cavil at an idle lay. 
 Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, 
 
 Through secret woes the world has never known, 
 When on the weary night dawn'd wearier day, 
 
 And bitterer was the grief devour'd alone. 
 That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own. 
 
151 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Hark ! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, 
 
 Some spirit of the Air has waked thy string 
 'Tis now a Seraph bold, with touch of fire, 
 
 'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. 
 Keceding now, the dying numbers ring 
 
 Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell. 
 And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 
 
 A wandering witch-note of the distant spell - 
 And now, 'tis silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well ! 
 
JSi 
 
 
 \ 
 
 ^: ij. \^ ~- 
 
 
NOTES. 
 
 METHOD OF READTNa AND PRACTICE. 
 
 1. Read, by the aid of the Key, a page of the engraving, or so 
 much as may have been assigned as an exercise, reading the notes 
 carefully 
 
 2. As soon as a page or exercise can be read easily icithout reference to 
 the Key, the engraving should be placed in view as a "copy, " and 
 copied several times, with a pen, until all the characters can be 
 easily and gracefully formed, and es[^;ecially until the foim and 
 position of each word-sign, contraction, and phrase-sign are carefully 
 impressed upon the memory. 
 
 3. That the preceding requirement has been well complied with, 
 will be demonstrated if the pnpil can then phonograph the words of 
 the Key, and a comparison of the writing with the engraving 
 should reveal no errors. 
 
 4. It sbould be observed that the references throughout these 
 notes, unless otherwise specified, are to the Compendium Part II. 
 of the Hand-Book. C. o\ Co\\\\i. ^Compendium. 
 
 5. It will be assumed that the pupil will be acquainted with the 
 Standard-Phonographic nomenclature, or system of naming the 
 shoithand letters, fiom previous study of the Hand-Book, Synopsis, 
 or Little Teacher. 
 
 6. The notes will be referred to by superior figures in the key. 
 
 7. The advanced corresponding style of Standard Phonography 
 is characterized : 
 
 a. By the use of Mel, Nel, and Rel. See the Hand Book, §161, 
 R. 2. 
 
 h. By the occasional omission of unaccented vowels, and even of 
 accented vowels, of well-known forms. See Hand-Book, §234. 
 
304 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 c. By the use of 
 corresponding style, 
 
 few word-signs in addition to those of tlie 
 such us are intlicated in the Plionographic 
 
 Dictionary for the ac=^advanced correspondiny [style] ; such as the h- 
 
 tick on the line for he. 
 
 Page 2 (a). According used prepositionally as in according to, is rep- 
 resented by Kred', as a word-sign, the dot for ing being omitted, so 
 that dependent words may be joined. But the word is hee u^ed 
 adjectively, and is best written in full. The termination ing is gen- 
 erally best represented by the Ing stroke in adjectives and nouns ; 
 while in participles it is generally best written by the dot. 
 
 Page 4. [1]. <7am- Far. —This name is phonographed according to 
 the orthography. When the pronunciation is unknown, and some- 
 times the better to note the spelling, it is best to write the more 
 natural or general value of the common orthography. One author- 
 ity says this name, Uam-Var, is pronounced Ua-Var ; but this pro- 
 nouncing key is itself doubtful. Uam-Var, or more properly Uaigh- 
 mar, is a mountain to the north-east of the village of Callender in 
 Menteith. deriving its name, which signifies the great den, or cav- 
 ern, from a sort of retreat an)ong the rocks on the south side, said, 
 by tradition, to have been the abode of a giant. In latter times, it 
 was the refuge of robbers and banditti, who have been only extir- 
 pated within these forty or fifty years. 
 
 Page 5. [1] BenvoirlicJi s.—T\\e diphthong oi, in Scottish orthog- 
 raphy, is said to represent the sound of long i. The ch, in Scotch 
 orthography, represents an h sound pronounced in the back of 
 the mouth It is piobably sound No. 76 in §24 and §25, p. 206 and 
 p. 211 of the Appendix of Part II. of the Hand-Book. §24 just re 
 ferredto, is "An Extended Alphabet "—phonotypic and phono- 
 graphic. According to this alphabet, sound 76=Scotch ch. might 
 be represented by Kay shaded at the end ; but, practically, it is bet- 
 ter to represent it by Kay, k being the sound that is most likely to 
 be substituted for this ch. 
 
 Page 5. [2], Ca^rn.— A heap of loose stones. The vowel here is 
 the true long quantity of a in at. Commonly the second-place heavy 
 dot is used to represent either a (as in ale) or re {ai as in air) : but for 
 occasionally, as here, to insure correct pronunciation, it is better to 
 represent the vowel of air, cairn, by its distinct sign— a third-place 
 heavy parallel dash— as given in the optional vowel-scheme, §48 of 
 Part II. of the Hand-Book. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 305 
 
 Paj^e 5. p]. Linn.~~ dtHned iiH '' a waterfall ; a precipice. " 
 
 Page G. [1]. Tu-o dogs of black St. Hubert's breed.— '-The hounda 
 which we call Saint Hiihert's hounds, are commonly all black, yet 
 nevertheless, their race is so mingled at these days, that we find 
 them of all colors. These are the hounds of which the abhots of St. 
 Hubert have always kept some of the race or kind, in honor or 
 remembrance of the saint, which was a hunter with S. Eustace. "-- 
 The noble Art of Venerie, Lond. 1611. 
 
 Page 7. [']. To sharpen the angle between Bled and Ends and 
 therefore to make the junction easier, the Bled is made quite slant- 
 ing, and the Ends is made quite curved. 
 
 Page 7. [2]. For the death-wound, and death halloo; Muster d his breath, 
 his whinyard drew. — When the stag turned to bay, the ardent hunt- 
 er had the perilous task of going in upon, and killing or disabling 
 the desperate animal. At all times the task was dangerous, and to 
 be adventured upon wisely and warily, either by getting behind the 
 stag while he was gazing on the hounds, or by watching an opf or- 
 tunity to gallop roundly in upon him, and kill him with the sword. 
 
 Page 10. \}]. Nopathumj meets the wanderer' s ken.— VntW the present 
 road was made through the romantic pass, there was no mode of 
 issuing out of the defile, called the Trosachs, excepting by a sort of 
 ladder, composed of the branches and roots of the trees. 
 
 Page 12. [1]. Tomeeticith Highland plunderers here ; Were 7vorse than 
 loss of steed or deer.— The clans who inhabited the romantic regions in 
 the neighborhood of Loch-Katrine, were, even until a late period, 
 much addicted to predatory excursions upon their lowland neigh- 
 bors. 
 
 The reader will therefore be pleased to remember, that the scene 
 of this poem is laid in a time, 
 
 When tooming faulds. or sweeping of a glen, 
 Had still been held the deed of gallant men. 
 
 Piige le. [1]. A greg-hair'd sire, ichose eye intent. Was on the vision' d 
 futurehent.—li force of evidence could authorize us to believe facts 
 inconsistent with the general laws of nature, enough might be I'ro- 
 duced in favor of the existence of the Second-Sight. It is called in 
 Gaelic Taishitaraugh from Taish. an unreal or shadowy appearance ; 
 and those possessed of the faculty are called Taishatrin, which may 
 be aptly translated visionaries. 
 
306 NOTES. 
 
 Page 18. [ij. Here, for retreat in danger oils hour ; Some chief had 
 framed a rustic bmcer. — The Celtic chieftains, whose lives were contin- 
 ually exposed to peril, had usually, in the most retired spot of tlieir 
 domains, some place cf retreat for the hour of necessity, which, as 
 circumstances would admit, was a tower, a cavern, or a rustic hut, 
 in a strong and secluded situation. One of these last gave refuge to 
 the unfortunate Charles Edward, in his perilous wanderings after 
 the battle of Culloden. 
 
 Page 20 ['J. My sires tall form might grace the part, Of Ferragus, or 
 Ascahart. — Tliese two sons of Anak flourished in romantic fable. The 
 first is well known to the admirers of Ariosto, by the name of Fer- 
 rau. 
 
 Ascapart, or Ascabart, makes a very matedal figure in the His- 
 tory of Bevis of Hampton, by whom he was conquered. See Auch- 
 inleckMs.Jol. 189 
 
 Pa'ie 20. [2]. Though all unask'd his birth and name.— The Highlaxid- 
 ers, who carried hospitality to a punctilious excess, are said to have 
 considered it as churlish, to ask a stranger his name or lineage, be- 
 fore he had taken refreshment. Feuds were so frequent among 
 them, that a contrary rule would, in many cases, have produced 
 the discovery of some circumstance which might have excluded 
 the guest from the benefit of the assistance he stood in need of. 
 
 Page 21. [1]. A harp imseen, Fill'd up the harmony heticeen.— 
 
 •'The harp and clairschoes are now only heard of in the Highlands 
 in ancient song. At what period these instruments ceased to be 
 used, is not on record ; and tradition is silent on this head. How 
 it happened that the noisy and inharmonious bagpipe banished the 
 soft and expressive harp, we cannot say ; but certain it is, that th'- 
 bagpipe is now the only insfrument that obtains universally in the 
 Highland districts. "—Campbell's Journey through North Britain, 
 Lond. 1808 
 
 Page 26. [i] Morn's genial influence u-aJced a minstrel grey. — The High- 
 land chieftains to a late period, retained in their service the bard, 
 as a family officer. The author of the letters from Scotland, an of- 
 ficer of engineers, quartered at Inverness about 1720, gives a minute 
 account of the office, and of a bard, whom he heard exercise his 
 talent of recitation. 
 
 Page 29. [i]. The Grcpme.—The ancient and powerful family 
 
 of Graham (which, for metrical reasons, is here spelt after the 
 
NOTES. 307 
 
 Scottish pronunciation) anciently Ijokl extensive possessions in the 
 counties of Dumbarton and Stirling. Few families can boiist of 
 more historical renown, having claim to three of the most remark- 
 able characters in the Scottish annals. 
 
 Page 30. [1] This harp which erst St. Modem sway'd.-l am not pre- 
 pared to show that Saint Modan was a performer on the harp. It 
 was, however, no unsaintly accomplishment ; for St. Dunstan cer- 
 tainly did play upon that instrument, which, retaining, as was nat- 
 ural, a portion of the sanctity attached to its master's character, 
 announced future events hy its f-pontaneous sound. 
 
 Page 30. [2]. Ere Douglasses, to ruiii driven, Were exiled from their 
 native heaven. — The downfall of the Douglasses of the house of An- 
 gus, during the reign of James V , is the event alluded to in the 
 text. 
 
 Page 32. [i]. The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!" — The well-known 
 cognizance of the Douglas family. 
 
 Page 32 p]. In Holy-Rood a hiight he slew. — This was by no means 
 an uncommon occurrence in the court of Scotland ; nay, the pres- 
 ence of the sovereign himself scarcely restrained the ferocious and 
 inveterate feuds which were the perpetual source of bloodshed 
 among the Scottish nobility. The instance of the murder of Sir 
 George Stuart of Ochiltree, called The Bloody, by the celebrated 
 Francis, Earl of Bothwell, may be produced among many. See the 
 Historia rerum Brittanicarum R. Johnstoni, ad annum 1628 ; re- 
 ferring for particulars to the naked simplicity of Birrel's Diary, 30th 
 July, 1588. 
 
 Page 34. [']. Br acklinn s thundering icave. — Tbis is a beauti- 
 ful cascade made at a place called the Bridge of Bracklinn, by a 
 mountain stream called the Keltic, about a mile from the village 
 of Callander, in Menteith. Above a chasm, where the brook pre- 
 cipitates itself from a height of at least fifty feet, there is thrown, 
 for the convenience of the neighborhood, a rustic foot-bridge, of 
 about three feet in breadth, and without ledges, which is scarcely 
 to be crossed by a stranger without awe and apprehension. 
 
 Page 33. [>]. — The Douglas like a .stricken deer, Disowned hy every noble 
 peer.— The exiled state of tbis powerful race is not exaggerated in 
 this and subsequent passages. The hatred of James against the 
 race of Douglas was so inveterate, that numerous as their allies 
 were, and disregarded as the regal authority had usually been in 
 
308 NOTES. 
 
 similar cases, their nearest friends, even in the most remote parts of 
 Scotland, durst not entertain them, unless under the strictest and 
 closest disguises. 
 
 Page 83. [2]. J/aronnan's ceZZ.— The parish of Kilmarnock, at the 
 eastern extremity of Loch Lomond, derives its name from a cell or 
 chapel, dedicated to Saint Maronoch, or Marnoch, or Maronan, 
 about whose sanctity very little is now remembered. There is a 
 fountain devoted to him in the same parish, but its virtues, like 
 the merits of its patron, have fallen into oblivion. 
 
 Page 35. [1]. For Tine-man forged hy fairy lore. — Archibald, the 
 third Earl of Douglas, was so unfortunate in all his enterprises, that 
 he acquired the epithet of Tineman, because he lined, or lost, his fol- 
 lowers in every battle which he fought. He fell at the battle of 
 Verneuil, with the flower of the Scottish chivalry, then serving as 
 auxiliaries in France, and about two thousand common soldiers, A. 
 D. 1424. 
 
 Page 35. [2]. Did, self-imscabbarded, foreshoiv The footstep of a secret 
 foe. — The ancient warriors, whose hope and confidence rested chief- 
 ly in their blades, were accustomed to deduce omens from them, es- 
 pecially from such as were supposed to have been fabricated by en- 
 chanted skill, of which we have various instances in the romances 
 and legends of the time 
 
 Lord Lovat is said, by the author of the Letters from Scotland, to 
 have affirmed, that a number of sw^ords that hung up in the hall of 
 the mansion-house, leaped of themselves out of the scabbard at the 
 instant he was born. This story passed current among his clan, but 
 proved an unfortunate omen. — Lettei-s from Scotland, vol. ii, p. 214. 
 
 Page 85. p]. Canwa=Cotton-grass 
 
 Page 36. [']. 67ian^ers=The drone of the bagpipe 
 
 Page 36. \f[. The pibroch proud — The connoisseurs in pipe- 
 music affect to discover in a Avell-composed pibroch, the imitative 
 sounds of march, conflict, flight, jnu-suit, and all the "current of a 
 heady fight. " 
 
 Page 37. [^]. Roderick Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! iei-oe !~ Besides his ord- 
 inary name and surname, which were chiefly used in the intercourse 
 with the Lowlands, every Highland chief had an epithet expressive 
 of his patriarchal dignitj' as head of the clan, and Avhich was com- 
 mon to all his predecessors and successors, as Pharaoh to the kings 
 of Egypt, or Arsace to those of Parthia. This name was usually a 
 
NOTES. 
 
 309 
 
 patronj'mic, expressive of liis descent from the founder of the fam- 
 ily. But besides this title, which belonged to his office and dignity, 
 the chieftain had usually another peculiar to himself, which dis- 
 tinguished him from the chieftains of the same race. This was 
 sometimes derived from complexion, as dhu or roy ; sometimes from 
 size, as heg or more; at other times, from some particular exploit or 
 from some peculiarity of habit or appearance. The line of the text 
 therefore signifies. 
 
 Black Roderick, the descendant of Alpine. 
 
 The song itself is intended as an imitation of the jorrams, or boat- 
 songs of the Highlanders, which were usually composed in honor 
 of a favorite chief. They are so adapted as to keep time with the 
 sweep of the oars ; and it is easy to distinguish betw^een those in- 
 tended to be sung to the oars of a galley, where the stroke is length- 
 ened and doubled as it were, and those which were timed to the 
 rowers of an ordinary boat. 
 
 Page 38. [i]. The he'^t of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. — The Len- 
 nox, as the district is called, which encircles the lower extremity of 
 Loch Lomond, was peculiarly exposed to the incursions of the 
 mountaineers, who inhabited the inaccessible fastnesses at the upper 
 end of the lake, and the neighboring district of Loch Katrine 
 These were often marked by circums tances of great ferocity, of 
 which the noted conflict of Glen-Fruin is a celebrated instance. 
 This was a clan-battle, in which the Macgregors, headed by Allas- 
 ter Macgregor, chief of the clan, encountered the sept of Colqu- 
 houns, commanded by Sir Humphrey Colquhoim of Luss. It is on 
 all hands allowed, that the action was desperately fought, and that 
 the Colquhouns [r-=Kohumz] were defeated with slaughter, leaving 
 two hundred of their name dead upon the field. 
 
 Page 44. [i]. The hing s vindictive pride Boasts to have tamed the 
 
 Border side.— In 1529, James V. made a convention at Edinburgh, 
 for the purpose of considering the best mode of quelling the Border 
 robbers, who, during the license of his minority, and the troubles 
 which followed, had committed many exorbitancies Accordingly 
 he assembled a flying army of ten thousand men, consisting of his 
 principal nobility and their followers, who were directed to bring 
 their hawks and dogs with them, that the monarch might refresh 
 himself with sport during the intervals of military execution. 
 With this army he swept through Ettrick forest, where he hanged 
 
310 NOTES. 
 
 over the gate of his own castle, Piers Cockburn of Hendeiiand, who 
 had prepared, according to tradition, a feast for liis icception. He 
 caused Adam Scott of Tnshielaw also to he executed, who was dis- 
 tinguished by the title of King of the Border. But the most noted 
 victim of justice, during that expedition, was John Armstrong of 
 Gihiockie, famous in Scottish song, who, confiding in his own sup- 
 posed innocence, met the King, with a retinue of thirty-six persons, 
 all of whom were hanged at Carlenrig, near the source of the Tev- 
 iot. The effect of this severity was such, that, as the vulgar ex- 
 pressed it, "the rush-bush kept the cow," and thereafter was 
 great peace and rest a long time, wherethrough the king had great 
 profit ; for he had ten thousand sheep going in the Ettrick forest in 
 keeping by Andrew Bell, who made the king as good count of them 
 as they had gone in the bounds of Fife. " — Pittscotie s History , p. 153. 
 
 Page 44. p] What grace for Ilighland Chiefs, judge ye, By fate of 
 Border chivalry. — James was, in fact, equally attentive to restrain 
 rapine and feudal oppression in every part of liis dominions. ''The 
 king past to the Isles, and there held justice courts, and punished 
 both thief and trtiitor according to their demerit. And also he 
 caused great men to show their holdiegs, wherethrough he found 
 many of the said lands in non-entry ; the which he confiscated and 
 brought home to his own use, and afterwards annexed them to the 
 crown. " 
 
 Page 49. [i]. Rest safe till morning, pity 'twere Such cheek shoidd feel 
 the midnight air. — Hardihood was in every respect so essential to the 
 cliaracter of a Highlander, that the reproach of effeminacy was the 
 most bitter which could be thrown upon him. Yet it was sometimes 
 hazarded on what we might presume to think slight grounds. It is 
 reported of old Sir Ewen Cameron of Lochiel, when upwards of sev- 
 enty, that he was surprised by night on a hunting or military ex- 
 pedition. He wrapped him in his plaid, and lay contentedly down 
 upon the snow, with which the ground happened to be covered. 
 Among his attendants, who were preparing to take their rest in the 
 same manner, he observed that one of his grandsons, for his better 
 accommodation, had rolled a large snowball, and placed it below 
 his head. The wrath of the ancient chief was awakened by a symp- 
 tom of what he conceived to be degenerate luxury. "Out upon 
 thee, " said he, kicking the frozen bolster from the head which it 
 supported, " art thou so effeminate as to need a pillow? " 
 
NOTES. 311 
 
 Page 50. [1]. His henchman came. — " This officer is a sort of 
 
 secretary, and is to be ready, upon all occasions, to venture his life 
 in defence of his master ; and at drinkiug-bonts he stands behind 
 his seat, at his hainich, from whence his title is derived, and watch- 
 es the conversation, to see if any one offends his patron. " — Letters 
 from Scotland. 
 
 Page 52 [']. The Fiery Cross glanced like a meteor round — When a 
 chieftain designed to summon his clan, upon any sudden or impor- 
 tant emergency, he slew a goat, and making a cross of any light 
 wood, seared its extremities in the fire, and extinguished them in 
 the blood of the animal. This was called the Fiery Cross, also Crean 
 Tarigh, or the Cross of Shame, because disobedience to what the sym- 
 bol implied, inferred infamy. It was delivered to a swift and trusty 
 messenger, who ran full speed with it to the next hamlet, where he 
 presented it to the principal person, with a single word, implying 
 the place of rendezvous. He who received the symbol was bound 
 to send it forward with equal despatch, to the next village : and 
 thus it passed with incredible celerity through all the district 
 which owed allegiance to the chief, and also among his allies and 
 neighbors, if the danger was common to them. At sight of the 
 Fiery Cross, every man, from sixteen years old to sixty, capable of 
 bearing arms, was obliged instantly to repair, in his best arms and 
 accoutrements, to the place of rendezvous. He who failed to ap- 
 pear suffered the extremities of fire and sword, which were em- 
 blematically denounced to the disobedi( nt by the bloody and burnt 
 marks upon this warlike signal During the civil war of 1745-6, 
 the Fiery Cross often made its circuit ; and upon one occasion it 
 passed through the whole district of Breadalbane, a tract of thirty- 
 two miles, in three hours. The late Alexander Stewart, Esq., of 
 Invernahyle, described to me his having sent the Fiery Cross 
 through the district of Appin, during the same commotion. The 
 coast was threatened by a descent from two English frigates, and 
 the flower of the young men were with the army of Prince Charles 
 Edward, then in England : yet the summons was so effectual, that 
 even old age and childhood obeyed it ; and a force was collected in 
 a few hours, so numerous and so enthusiastic, that all attempt at 
 the intended diversion upon the country of the absent warriors was 
 in prudence abandoned, as desperate 
 
 Page 54. [']. That monk of savage form and face. — The state of re- 
 ligion in the middle ages afforded considerable facilities for those 
 
312 NOTES. 
 
 whose mode of life excluded them from regular worship, to secure, 
 nevertheless, the ghostly assistaace of confessors, perfectly wiHiug 
 to adapt the nature of their doctrines to the necessities and peculiar 
 circumstances of their flock. Robin Hood, it is well known, had 
 liis celebrated domestic chaplain, Friar Tuck. And the same cur- 
 tail friar was probably matched in manner and appearance by the 
 ghostly fathers of the Tynedale robbers, who are thus described in 
 an excommunication fulminated against their patrons by Eichard 
 Fox, Bishop of Durham, tempore Henrici YIII. "We have further 
 understood, that there are many chaplains in the said territories of 
 Tynedale and Redesdale, who are public and open maintainers of 
 concubinage, irregular, suspended, excommunicated and interdicted 
 persons, and withal so utterly ignorant of letters, that it has been 
 found by those who objected this to them, that there are some who 
 having celebrated mass for ten years, were still unable to read the 
 sacramental service. We have also understood there are persons 
 among them who, although not ordained, do take upon them the 
 offices of priest-hood ; and, in contempt of God, celebrate the divine 
 and sacred rites, and administer the sacraments, not only in sacred 
 and dedicated places, but in those which are profane and interdict- 
 ed, and most wretchedly ruinous ; they themselves being attired 
 in ragged, torn, and most filthy vestments, altogether unfit to be 
 used in divine or even temporal offices. The which said chaplains 
 do administer sacraments and sacramental rites to the aforesaid 
 manifest and infamous thieves, robbers, depredators, receivers of 
 stolen goods, and piund erers, and that without restitution, or in- 
 tention to restore, as evinced by the fact ; and do also openly ad- 
 mit them to the rites of ecclesiastical sepulture, without exacting 
 security for restitution, although they are prohibited from doing so 
 by the sacred canons as well as by the institutes <'f the saints and 
 fathers. All which infers the heavy peril of their own souls, and is 
 a pernicious example to the other believers in Christ, as well as no 
 slight, but an aggravated injury to the numbers despoiled and 
 plundered of their goods, gear, herds, and chattels. " See Minstrelsy 
 of the Scottish Border. 
 
 Page 54. [•]. Of Brian's birth strange tales icere told. — The legend of 
 Brian's birth is not of the author's invention. Tt is possible he 
 may differ from modern critics in supposing that the records of hu- 
 man superstition, if peculiar to. and cliaracteristic of, the country 
 in which tht- scene is laid, are a legitimate subject of poetry. He 
 
NOTES. 313 
 
 gives, however, a ready assent to the narrower proposition, which 
 condemns all attempts of an irregular and disordered fancy to ex- 
 cite terror, by accumnlating a train of fantastic and incoherent hor- 
 rors, whether borrowed from all countries, and patched upon a nar- 
 rative belonging to one which knew them not, or derived from the 
 author's own imagination. 
 
 Page 55. [']. Yet ne'er again to braid her hair, The Virgin snood did 
 Alice wear. —The snood, or riband, with which a Scottish lass braided 
 her hair, had an emblematical signification, and applied to her 
 maiden character. It was exchanged for the curch, toy, or coif, 
 when she passed by marriage, into the matron state. But if the 
 damsel was so unfortunate as to lose pretensions to the name of 
 maiden, without gaining a right to that of matron, she was neither 
 permitted to use the snood, nor advanced to the graver dignity of 
 the curch. In old Scottish songs there occur many sly allusions to 
 such misfortune, as in the old words to the popular tune of " Ower 
 the muir amang the heather :" 
 
 Down amang the broom, the broom, 
 Down amang the broom, my dearie, 
 
 The lassie lost her silken snood. 
 
 That gard her greet till she was wearie. 
 
 Page 56. [']. Tlie desert gave him visions wild, Such as might suit the 
 spectre's child. — In adopting the legend concerning the birth of the 
 founder of the Church of Kilmallie, the author has endeavored to 
 trace the effects which such a belief was likely to produce, in a bar- 
 barous age, on the person to whom it related. It seems likely that 
 he must have become a fanatic or an impostor, or that mixture of 
 both which forms a more frequent character than either of them, as 
 existing separately. In truth, mad persons are frequently more 
 anxious to impress upon others a faith in their visions, than they 
 are themselves confirmed in their reality ; as, on the other hand, it 
 is difficult for the most cool-headed impostor long to personate an 
 enthusiast, without in some degree believing what he is eager to 
 have believed. It was a natural attribute of such a character as 
 the supposed hermit, that he should credit the numerous super- 
 stitions with which the minds of the Highlanders are almost always 
 cmbued. A few of these are slightly alluded to in this stanza. The 
 River Demon, or River-horse, for it is that form which he common- 
 ly assumes, is the Kelpy of the Lowlands, an evil and malicious 
 
314 NOTES. 
 
 spirit, deliglititig to forbode and to witness calamity. He frequents 
 most Highland lakes and rivers ; and one of his most memorable 
 exploits was performed upon the banks of Loch-Yennachar, in the 
 very district which forms the scene of our action : it consisted in the 
 destruction of a funeral procession, with all its attendants. The 
 " noon-tide hag, " called in Gaelic G'Zas-Z/c^, a tall, emaciated, gi- 
 gantic female tigure, is supposed in particular to haunt the district 
 of Knoidart. A goblin dressed in antique armor, and having one 
 hand covered with blood, called, from that circumstance, Lham- 
 dearg, or Ked-hand, is a tenant of the forests of Glenmore and Roth- 
 emurcus. Other spirits of the desert, all frightful in shape, and 
 malignant in disposition, are believed to frequent different moun- 
 tains and glens of ihe Highlands, where any unusual appearance, 
 produced by mist, or the strange lights that are sometimes thrown 
 upon particular objects, never fails to present an apparition to the 
 imagination of the solitary and melancholy mountaineer. 
 
 Page 57. [^] The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream. — Most great fam- 
 ilies in the Highlands were supposed to have a tutelar or rather a 
 domestic spirit attached to them, who took an interest in their 
 prosperity, and intimated, by its wailings, any approaching disaster. 
 That of Grant of Grant was called 3Iay Moullach, and appeared in 
 the form of a girl, who had her arm covered with hair. Grant of 
 Rothemurcus had an attendant called Bodach-an-dun, or the Ghost 
 of the Hill : and many other examples might be mentioned. The 
 Ben-Shie implies the female Fairy, whose lamentations were often 
 supposed to precede the death of a chieftain of particular families. 
 When she is visible, it is in the form of an old woman, wdth a blue 
 mantle, and streaming hair. A superstition of the same kind is, I 
 believe, universally received by the inferior ranks of the native 
 Irish. 
 
 Page 57 [2]. Along Benharrow' s shingly side, Where mortal horseman 
 ne'er might ride. — A presage of the kind alluded to in the text, is still 
 believed to announce death to the ancient Highland family of 
 M'Lean of Lochbuy. The spirit of an ancestor slain in battle is 
 heard to gallop along a stony bank, and tlien to ride thrice around 
 the family residence, ringing his fairy bridle, and thus intimating 
 the approaching calamity. How easily the eye as well as the ear 
 may be deceived upon such occasions, is evident from the stories of 
 armies in the air, and other spectral phenomena, with which history 
 abounds. Such an apparition is said to have been witnessed upon 
 
NOTES. 315 
 
 the side of Southerfell mountain, between Penrith and Keswick, 
 upon 23d of June, 1744, by two persons, William Lancaster of Blake- 
 hills, and Daniel Stricket, his servant, whose attestation to the 
 fact, with a full account of the apparition, dated the 21st July, 
 1785, is printed in Clarke's survey of the Lakes. The apparition 
 consisted of several troops of horses moving in regular order, with 
 a steady rapid motion, making a curved sweep arourd the fell, and 
 seeming to the f>pectators to disappear over the ridge of the moun- 
 tain. Many persons witnessed this phenomenon, a}id observed the 
 last, or last but one, of the supposed troop, occasionally leave his 
 rank, and pass at a gallop to the front, when he resumed the ?ame 
 steady pace. This curious appearance, making the necessary allow- 
 ance for imagination, may be perhaps sufficit ntly accounted for by 
 optical deception. ^ — Survey of the Lakes, p. 25. 
 
 Page 57. p]. Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach ivave Their shadows o er 
 Clan-Alpine's grave. — Inch-Cailliach, the Isle of Nuns, or of Old 
 Women, is a most beautiful island at the lower extremity of Loch- 
 Lomond. The church belonging to the former nunnery was long 
 used as the place of worship for the parii-hof Buchannan, but scarce- 
 ly any vestiges of it now remain. The burial ground continues to 
 be used, and contains the family places of sepulture of several neigh- 
 boring clans. The monuments of the lairds of Macgregor, and of 
 other families, claiming adesctntfrom the old Scottish King Alpine, 
 are most remarkable. The Highlanders are as zealous of their rights 
 of sepulture, as may be expected from a people whose whole laws 
 and government, if clanship can be called so, turned upon the single 
 principle of family descent. " May his ashes be scattered on the 
 water, " was one of the deepest and most solemn imprecations 
 which they used .against an enemy. 
 
 Page 61. [>]. The dun deer's hide On fleeter foot was never tied. 
 
 — The present brogue of the Highlanders is made of half-dried leather, 
 with holes to admit and let our the water ; for walking the moors 
 dry-shod is a matter altogether out of question. The ancient buskin 
 was still ruder, being made of undressed deer's hide, with the hair 
 outwards, a circumstance which procured the Highlanders the well- 
 known epithet of Redshanks. The process is very accurately de- 
 scribed by one Elder (himself a Highlander), in the project for a 
 imion between England and Scotland, addressed to Henry VIII. 
 "We go a hunting, and after that we have slain rein-deer, we flay 
 off the skin by and by, and setting off our bare-foot on the inside 
 
316 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 thereof, for want of cunning shoe-makers, by your grace's pardon, we 
 play the- cobblers, compassing and measuring so much thereof as sliall 
 reach up to our ancles, pricking the upper part thereof with holes, 
 that the water may repass where it enters, and stretchhig it up Avith 
 a strong thong of the same above our said ancles. So, and please 
 your noble grace, we make our shoes. Therefore, we using such 
 manner of shoes, the rough hairy side outwards, in your grace's do- 
 minions of England, we be called Rough-footed /Scott's. "—Plnker- 
 ton's History^ vol. ii p. 397. 
 
 Page 62. [i]. The dismal coronach. — The coronach (or funeral song) 
 of the Highlanders, like the Ululatus of the Romans, and the Ulidoo 
 of the Irish, was a wild expression of lamentation poured forth by 
 the mourners over the body of a departed friend When the words 
 of it were articulate, they expressed the praises of the deceased, 
 and the loss the clan would sustain by his death. 
 
 The coronach has for some years past been superseded at funerals 
 by the use of the bag-pipe ; and that also is, like many other High- 
 land peculiarities, falling into disuse, unless in remote districts. 
 
 Page 65. [i]. Benledi saiv the Cross of Fire, It glanced like lightning up 
 Strath-ire. —A glance at the provincial map of Perthshire, or at any 
 large map of Scotland, will trace the progress of the signal through 
 the small district of lakes and mountains which, in exercise of my 
 poetical privilege, I have subjected to the authority of my imagin- 
 ary chieftain ; and which, at the period of my romance, was really 
 occupied by a clan who claimed a descent from Alpine, a clan the 
 most unfortunate, and most persecuted, but neither the least dis- 
 tinguished, least powerful, or least brave, of the tribes of the Gael. 
 
 The first stage of the Fiery Cross is to Duncraggan, a place near 
 the Brigg of Turk, where a short stream divides Loch-Achray from 
 Loch-Yennachar. From thence, it passes towards Callender, and 
 then turning to the left up the pass of Lennie, is consigned to Nor- 
 man at the chapel of Saint Bride, which stood on a small and ro- 
 mantic knoll in the middle of the valley, called Strath-Ire Tom- 
 bea and Arnandave. or Ardmandave, are names of places in the 
 vicinity. The alarm is then supposed to pass along the lake of 
 Lubnaig, and through the various glens in the district of Balquid- 
 der, including the neighboring tracts of Glenfinlas and Strath-gart- 
 ney. 
 
 Page 60. [']. Not faster o'er thg heath erj/ braes, Balquidder, speeds the 
 midnight blaze. — It may be necessary to inform the southern reader 
 
NOTES. 
 
 317 
 
 tliat the heath on the Scottish moor-lands is often set fire to, that 
 the sheep may have the advantage of the yovmg herbage produced 
 in room of the tough old heather plants. This custom (execrated 
 by sportsmen) produces occasionally the most beautiful nocturnal 
 appearances, similar almost to the discharge of a volcano. The 
 simile is not new to poetry. The charge of a warrior, in the fine 
 ballad of Hardyknute, is said to be " like a fire to heather set. " 
 
 — By his Chieftain's hand. — The deep and implicit 
 
 Page 69. [2]. - 
 
 respect paid by the Highland clans-men to their chief, rendered 
 this both a common and a solemn oath. In other respects, they 
 were like most savage nations, capricious in their ideas concerning 
 the obligatory power of oaths. One solemn mode of swearing was 
 by kissing the di7-k, imprecating upon themselves death by that, or 
 a similar weapon if they broke their vow. But for oaths in the 
 usual form, they are said to have had little repect. 
 
 Page 70. [1]. 
 
 Coi7--na?i- Uriskin.— -This is a very steep and 
 
 most romantic hollow in the mountain of Ben-Venue, overhanging 
 the south-eastern extremity of Loch-Katrine. It is surrounded 
 with stupendous rocks, and overshadowed with birch-trees, mingled 
 with oaks, the spontaneous production of the mountain, even where 
 its cliffs appear denuded of soil. A dale in so wild a situation, and 
 amid a people whose genius bordered on the romantic, did not re- 
 main without appropriate deities. The name literally implies the 
 Corri, or Den of the Wild or Shaggy Men. Perhaps this, as conjec- 
 tured by Mr. Alexander Campbell, may have originally only im- 
 plied its being the haunt of a ferocious banditti. But tradition has 
 ascribed to the Urisk, who gives name to the cavern, a figure be- 
 tween a goat and a man ; in short, however much the classical 
 reader may be startled, precisely that of the Grecian Satyr. The 
 Urisk seems not to have inherited, with the form, the petulance of 
 the sylvan deity of the classics : his occupations, on the contrary, 
 resembled those of Milton's Lubbar Fiend, or of the Scottish 
 Brownie, though he differed from both in name and appearance. 
 "The Urisks, " says Dr. Grahame, " were a sort of lubberly super- 
 naturals, who, like the Brownies, could be gained over by kind at- 
 tention, to perform the drudgery of the farm, and it vi'as believed 
 that many of the families in the Highlands had one of the order at- 
 tached to it. They were supposed to be dispersed over the High- 
 lands, each in his own wild recess, but the solemn stated meetings 
 of the order were regularly held in this cave of Bonvenew. This 
 
818 NOTES. 
 
 ancient history of this coxmtry. ' — Scenery on the Southern Confines of 
 Perthshire. 1806. p. 19. 
 
 Page 71. [']. The loild pass of BeaV-nam-Bo. — Bealach-nam-Bo, or 
 the pass of cattle, is a most magnificent glade, overhung with aged 
 birch-trees, a little higher up the mountain than the Coir-nan- 
 Uriskin, treated of in the last note. The whole composes the most 
 sublime piece of scenery that imagination can conceive. 
 
 Page 72. [']. A single page to hear his sword, Alone attended on his 
 lord. — A Highland chief being as absolute in his patriarchal author- 
 ity as any prince, had a corresponding number of officers attached 
 to his person He had his body-guards, called Luicht-tach, picked 
 from his clan for strength, activity, and entire devotion to his per- 
 son. These, according to their deserts, were sure to share abund- 
 antly in the rude profusion of his hospitality. It is recorded for ex- 
 ample by tradition, that Allan MacLeau, chief of that clan, hap- 
 pened upon a time to hear one of these favorite retainers observe to 
 his comrade, that their chief grew old—" Whence do your infer 
 that?" replied the other. "When was il, " rejoined the first, 
 " that a soldier of Allan's was obliged, as I am now, not only to 
 eat the flesh from this bone, but even to tear off the inner skin or 
 filament?" The hint was sufficient, and MacLean next morning, to 
 relieve his followers from such dire necessity, undertook an inroad 
 on the mainland, the ravage of which altogether effaced the mem- 
 ory of his former expeditions for the like purpose. 
 
 Page 77. [i]. The Tag hairm call' d, by which, afar, Our sires foresaw 
 the events of war.— The Highlanders, like all rude people, had va- 
 rious superstitious modes of inquiring into futurity. One of the most 
 noted was the Taghairm, mentioned in the text. A person was 
 wrapped up in the skin of a newly-slain bullock, and deposited be- 
 side a waterfall, or at the bottom of a precipice, or in some other 
 strange, wild, and unusual'situation, where the scenery around him 
 suggested nothing but objects of horror In this situation he re- 
 volved in his mind the question proposed, and whatever was im- 
 pressed upon him by his exalted imagination, passed for the inspi- 
 ration of the disembodied spirits, who haunt these desolate recesses. 
 In some of the Hebrides, they attributed the same oracular power 
 to a large black stone by the ?ea-shore, which they approached witli 
 certain solemnities, and considered the first fancy which came into 
 their own minds, after they did so, to be the undoubted dictate of 
 
NOTES. 319 
 
 the tutelar deity of the stone, and as such, to be, if possible, punc- 
 tually complied with. 
 
 Page 77. [^J. The choicest of the prey tee had, When swept our merry- 
 mm Gallan-gad. — \ know not if it be worth observing, that this pas- 
 sage is taken almost literally from the mouth of an old Highland 
 Kern, or Ketteran, as they were called He used to narrate the 
 merry doings of the good old times when he was follower of Rob 
 Roy Macgregor. This leader, on one occasion, thought proper to 
 make a descent upon the lower part of the Loch-Loinond district, 
 and summoned all the heritors and farmers to meet at the Kirk of 
 Drymen, to pay him black-mail, i. e , tribute for forbearance and 
 protection. As this invitation was supported by a band of thirty or 
 forty stout fellows, oniy one gentleman, an ancestor, if I mistake 
 not, of the present Mr. Grahame of Gartmore, ventured to decline 
 compliance. Rob Roy instantly swept his land of all he could drive 
 away, and among the spoil was a bull of the old Scottish wild 
 breed, whose ferocity occasioned great plague to the Ketterans. 
 "But ere we had reached the Row of Dennan, " said the old man, 
 " A child might have scratched his ears." The circumstance is a 
 minute one, but it paints the times when the poor beeve was com- 
 pelled 
 
 To hoof it o'er as many weary miles. 
 
 With goading pikemen hollowing at his heels, 
 
 As e'er the bravest antler of the woods. 
 
 — Ethwald. 
 
 Page 77. p]. that huge cliff, whose ample verge, Tradition calls 
 
 the Hero's Targe. — There is a rock so named in the forest of Glenfin- 
 las, by which a tumultuary cataract takes its course. This wild place 
 is said in former times to have afforded refuge to an outlaw, who 
 was supplied with provisions by a woman, who lowered them down 
 from the brink of the precipice above. Water he procured for him- 
 self by letting down a flaggon tied to a string, into the black pool 
 beneath the fall. 
 
 Page 78 \}'\. Or raven on the blasted oak, That, watching while the deer 
 is broke, His morsel claims with sullen croak. " — Everything belonging 
 to the chase was matter of solemnity among our ancestors, but 
 nothing was more so than the mode of cutting up. or as it was tech- 
 nically called, breaking the slaughtered stag. The forester had his 
 allotted portion ; the hounds had a certain allowance ; and to make 
 the division as general as possible, the very birds had their share 
 
320 NOTES. 
 
 also. " There is a little gristle, " says Tuberville, " wliichis upon 
 the spoone of the brisket, which we call the raven's bone ; and I 
 have seen in some places a raven so wont and accustomed to it, that 
 she would never fail to cry and croak for it all the time you were in 
 breaking up of the deer, and would not depart till she had it. " In 
 the very ancient metrical romance of Sir Tristrem, that peerless 
 Knight, who is said to have been the very deviser of all rules cf 
 chase, did not omit this ceremony : 
 
 ' ' The raven he yaf his yiftes 
 Sat on the fourched tree. " 
 
 Sir Tristrem, Id edition, p. 34. 
 
 Page 79. [}'\. Which spills the foremost foeman's life. That party con- 
 quers in the strife. — Though this be the text described as a response of 
 the Taghaiim, or Oracle of the Hide, it was of itself an augury fre- 
 quently attended to. The fate of the battle was often anticipated 
 in the imagination of the combatants, by observing which party 
 first shed blood. It is said that the Highlanders under Montrose 
 were so deeply embued with this notion, that, on the morning of 
 the battle of Tippermoor, they murdered a defenceless herdsman, 
 whom they found in the fields, merely to secure an advantage of 
 so much consequence to their party. 
 
 Page 83. [']. i/ayjs.— Thrush. 
 
 Page 83 . [2J . Merlie . — Bl ackbird . 
 Pcige 83. [3]. Alice Brand. — This little fairy tale is founded upon a 
 very curious Danish ballad, which occurs in the Kiempe Viser, a 
 collection of heroic songs first published in 1591 , and reprinted in 
 1695, inscribed by Anders Sofrensen, the collector and editor, to 
 Sophia, Queen of Denmark. 
 
 Page 84. [i]. Up spoke the moody Elfin King, Whowonn'd within the 
 hill. — Dr. Grahame, author of an entertaining work upon the 
 Scenery of the Perthshire Highlands, has recorded, with great ac- 
 curacy, the peculiar tenets held by the Highlanders on Fairy su- 
 perstition, in the vicinity of Loch-Katrine. The learned author is 
 inclined to deduce the whole mythology from the Druidical system, 
 — an opinion to which there are many objections. 
 
 "The Daoine Shi, or 'Men of Peace ' of the Highlanders, though 
 not absolutely malevolent, are believed to be a peevish, repining 
 race of beings, who, possessing themselves but a scanty portion of 
 happiness, are supposed to envy mankind their more complete and 
 substantial onjo)ment. They are supposed to enjoy, in their sub- 
 
NOTES. 321 
 
 terraneous recesses, a sort of shadowy happiness, — a tinsel gran- 
 deur ; which, however, they would willingly exchange for the more 
 solid joys of mortality. 
 
 "They are believed to inhabit certain round grassy eminences, 
 where they celebrate their nocturnal festivities by the light of the 
 moon. About a mile beyond the source of the Forth, above Loch- 
 con, there is a place called CoirsMan, or the Cove of the Men of 
 Peace, which is still supposed to be a favorite i^lace of their resi- 
 dence. In the neighborhood are to be seen many round conical em- 
 inences ; particularly one, near the head of the lake, by the skirts 
 of which many are still afraid to pass after sunset. It is believed, 
 tliat if, on Hallow-eve, any person, alone, goes round one of these 
 hills nine times, towards the left hand, (sinistrorsum) , a door shall 
 open, by which he will be admitted into their subterraneous abodes. 
 Many, it is said, of mortal race have been entertaiiied in their secret 
 recesses. There they have been received into the most splendid 
 apartments, and regaled with the most sumptuous banquets, and 
 delicious wines. Their females surpass the daughters of men in 
 beauty. The seemingly happy inhabitants pass their time in festiv- 
 ity, and in dancing to notes of the softest music. But unhappy is 
 the mortal who joins in their joys, or ventures to partake of their 
 dainties. By this indulgence, he forfeits forever the society of men, 
 and is bound down irrevocably to the condition of a Shi'ich, or man 
 of peace. " 
 
 Page 84. [2]. Why sounds yon stroke on beach and oak, Our moonlight 
 circle s screen ? Or tvho comes here to chase the deer, Beloved of our Elfin 
 Queen?— It has heen already ob?erved, that fairies if not positively 
 malevolent, are capricious, and easily offended. They are, like 
 other proprietors of forests, peculiarly jealous of their rights of vert 
 and venison, as appears from the cause of offence taken, in the orig- 
 inal Danish ballad This jealousy was also an attribute of the 
 northern Duergar, or dwarfs ; to many of whose distinctions the 
 fairies seem to have succeeded, if, indeed, they are not the same 
 class of beings In the huge metrical record of German chivalry, 
 entitled the Helden-buch, Sir Hildebrand, and the other heroes of 
 whom it treats, are engaged in (me of their most desperate adven- 
 tures, from a rash violation of the rose-garden of an Elfin, or Dwarf 
 King. 
 
 Page 84. [3]. Or ivho may dare on ivold to wear. The fairy's fatal 
 (jrcen. — As the Daoine Shi , or Men of Peace, wore green habits, they 
 
322 NOTES. 
 
 were supposed to take offence when any mortals ventured to as- 
 sume their favorite color. Indeed, from some reason, which has 
 been, perhaps, originally a general superstition, green is held in 
 Scotland to be unlucky to particular tribes and counties The 
 Caithness men, who hold this belief, allege, as a reason, that their 
 bands wore that color when they were cut off at the battle of Flnd- 
 den ; and for the same reason they avoid crossing the Ord on a 
 Monday, being the day of the week on which their ill-omened array 
 set forth. 
 
 Page 84. [4]. For thou u-ert christen' d man. — The Elves were sup- 
 posed greatly to envy the priviliges acquired by Christian initiation, 
 and they gave to those mortals who had fallen into their power, a 
 certain precedence, founded upon this advantageous distinction. 
 Tamlane, in the old ballad, describes his own rank in the fairy pro- 
 cession : — 
 
 " For I ride on a milk-white steed, 
 
 And aye nearest the town ; 
 Because I was a christened knight, 
 They gie me that renown. " 
 
 Page 85. [']. And gaily shine'^ the fairy land; But all is glistening 
 show. — No fact respecting fairy land seems to be better ascertained 
 than the fantastic and illusory nature of their apparent pleasure 
 and splendor. It has been already noticed, in the former quo- 
 tations from Dr. Grahame's entertaining volume, and may be con- 
 firmed by the following Highland tradition. "A woman, whose 
 new-born child had been conveyed by them into their secret abodes, 
 was also carried thither herself, to remain, however, only until she 
 could suckle her infant. She, one day, during this period, observed 
 the Shi'ichs busily employed in mixing various ingredients in a 
 boiling caldron ; and, as soon as the composition was prepared, she 
 remarked that they all carefully anointed their eyes with it, laying 
 the remainder aside for future use. In a moment when they were 
 all absent, she also attempted to anoint her eyes with the precious 
 drug, but had time to apply it to one eye only, when the Daoine 
 Shi returned. But with that eye she was henceforth enabled to see 
 every thing as it really passed in their secret abodes:— she smw 
 every object, not as she hitherto had done, in deceptive splendoj- 
 iind elegance, but in its genuine colors and form. The gaudy orna- 
 ments of the apartment were reduced to the walls of a gloomy cav- 
 ern. Soon after, having discharged her office, she was dismissed to 
 
NOTES. 
 
 323 
 
 her own home. Still, however, she retained the faculty of seeing, 
 with her medicated eye, everything that was done, any where in 
 her presence, by the deceptive art of the order. One day, amidst a 
 throng of people, she chanced to observe the Shi'ich, or man of 
 peace, in whose possession she had left her child ; though to every 
 otlier eye invisible. Prompted by maternal affection, she inadvert- 
 ently accosted him, and began to inquire after the welfare of her 
 child. The man of peace, astonished at being thus recognized by 
 one of the mortal race, demanded how she had been enabled to dis- 
 cover him. Awed by the terrible frown of his countenance, she 
 acknowledged what she had done. He spat in her eye, and extin- 
 guished it for ever. "— Grahame's Sketches. 
 
 Page 86 [i]. 1 sunk down in a sinfvl fray, And, Hioixt life 
 
 and death, was snatch' d aioay To the joyless Elfin howei-. — The subjects of 
 fairy land were recruited from the regions of humanity by a sort of 
 criviping system, which extended to adults as well as to infants 
 Many of those who were in this world supposed to have discharged 
 the debt of nature, have only become denizens of the " Londe of 
 Faery." In the beautiful fairy romance of Orfee and Heurodiis 
 (Orpheus and Eurydice) in the Auchinleck MS. is a striking enumer- 
 ation of persons thus abstracted from middle earth. Mr. Pdtson un- 
 fortunately published this romance from a copy in which this, and 
 many other highly poetical passages, do not occur. 
 
 Page 97. \}'\. Who ever reck' d, where, how, or when, The proicling fox. 
 was frapp d and slain ? — St. John actually used this illustration when 
 engaged in confuting the plea of law proposed for the unfortunate 
 Earl of Strafford : " It was true, we give laws to hares and deer, be- 
 cause they are beasts of chase ; but it was never accounted either 
 cruelty or foul play to knock foxes or wolves on the head as they 
 can be found, because they are beasts of prey. " — Clarendon's His- 
 tory of the Rebellion. 
 
 Page 98. [']. his Highland cheer, The harden' d flesh of 
 
 mountain-deer. — The Scottish Highlanders, in former times, had a 
 concise mode of cooking their venison, or rather of dispensing with 
 cooking it. which appears greatly to have surprised the French, 
 whom chance made acquainted with it. The Vidame or Chartres, 
 when a hostage in England, during the reign of Edward VI., was 
 permitted to travel into Scotland, and penetrated as far as to the 
 remote Highlands {art fin fond des Sauvages). Afier a great bunting 
 party, at which a most wonderful quantity of game was destroyed, 
 
324 NOTES. 
 
 he saw these Scottish Savages devour a part ui their venison raw, 
 without any further preparation than compressing it between two 
 battons of wood, so as to force out the blood, and render it ex- 
 tremely hard. 
 
 Page 103 [']. Nor then claim d sovereignty his due, While Albany , with 
 feeble hand, Held borrowed truncheon of command. — There is scarcely a 
 more disorderly period in Scottish history, than that which suc- 
 ceeded the battle of Floddeu, and occupied the minority of James 
 V, Feuds of ancient standing broke out like old wounds, and every 
 quarrel among the independent nobility, which occurred daily, and 
 almost hourly, gave rise to fresh bloodshed. 
 
 Page 104. \}]. The Gael of plain and river heir, Shall loith strong hand 
 redeem his share. — So far, indeed, was a Creagh, or foray, from being 
 held disgraceful among the ancient Highlanders, that a young chief 
 was always expected to show his talents for command as soon as he 
 assumed it, by leading his clan on a successful enterprise of this na- 
 tm-e, either against a neighboring sept, for which constant feuds 
 usually furnished an apology, or against the Sassenach, Saxons, or 
 Lowlanders, for which no apology was necessary. The Gael, great 
 traditional historians, never forget that the Lowlands had, at some 
 remote period, been the property of their Celtic forefathers, which 
 furnished an ample vindication of all the ravages that they could 
 make on the unfortunate districts which lay within their reach. 
 
 Page 107. [^]. / only meant To sheto the reed on which yofu 
 
 leant, Deeming this path you might pursue, Without a pass from Roderick 
 Dhu. — This incident, like some other passages in the poem, illus- 
 trative of the character of the ancient Gael, is not imaginary, but 
 borrowed from fact The Highlanders, with the inconsistency of 
 most nations in the same state, were alternately capable of great 
 exertions of generosity, and of cruel revenge and pertidy. The fol- 
 lowing story I can only quote from tradition, but with such an as- 
 surance from those by whom it was communicated, as permits me 
 little doubt of its authenticity Early in the last century, John 
 Gunn, a noted Catheran, or Highland robber, infested Inverness- 
 shire, and levied black mail up to the walls of the provincial capital. 
 A garrison was then maintained in the castle of that town, and 
 their pay (country banks being unknown) was usually transmitted 
 in specie, under the guard of ii small escort. It chanced that the of- 
 ficer who commanded this little party was unexpectedly obliged to 
 
NOTES. 325 
 
 halt, about thirty miles from Inverness, at a miserable inn. About 
 nightfall, a stranger, in the Highland dress, and of very prepossess- 
 ing appearance, entered the same house. Separate accommodation 
 being impossible, the Englishman offered the newly-arrived guest a 
 part of his supper, which was accepted with reluctance By the con- 
 versation, he found his new acquaintance knew well all the passes of 
 the country, which induced him eagerly to request his company on 
 the ensuing morning. He neither disguised his business and charge, 
 nor his apprehensions of that celebrated freebooter, John Gunn. 
 The Highlander hesitated a moment, and then frankly consented to 
 be his guide. Forth they set in the morning ; and in traveling 
 through a solitary and dreary glen, the discourse again turned on 
 John Gunn. " Would you like to Fee him?" said the guide ; and 
 without waiting an answer to this alarming question, he whistled, 
 and the English officer, with his small party, was surrounded by a 
 body of Highlanders, whose numbei's put resistance out of question, 
 and who were all well armed. "Stranger," resumed the guide, 
 " I am that very John Gunn by whom you feared to be intercepted, 
 and not without cause ; for I came to the inn last night with the 
 express purpose of learning your route, that I and my followers 
 might ease you of your charge by the road. But T am incapable of 
 betraying the trust you reposed in me, and having, convinced you 
 that you were in my power, I can only dismiss you unplundered 
 and uninjured. " He then gave the officer directions for his journey, 
 and disappeared with his party as suddenly as they had presented 
 themselves. 
 
 Page 108. [^]. 0?i Bochastle the mouldering lines, Where Rome, 
 
 the empress of the world, Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. — The torrent 
 which discharges itself from Loch-Vennachar, the lowest and east- 
 most of the three lakes which form the scenery adjoining to the 
 Trosachs, sweeps through a flat and extensive moor, called Bo- 
 chastle. Upon a small eminence called the Dun of Bochastle, and in- 
 deed on the plain itself, are some entrenchments which have been 
 thought Roman. There is, adjacent to Callender, a sweet villa, the 
 residence of Captain Fairfoul, entitled the Roman Camp. 
 
 Page 108. [2] See here, all vantageless I stand, Arm'd, liJce thyself, 
 with single brand. — The duellists of former times did not always 
 stand upon those punctilios respecting equality of arms, which are 
 now judged essential to ftiir combat. It is true, that, in formal com- 
 bats in the lists, the parties were, by the judges of the field, put as 
 
326 NOTES. 
 
 nearly as possible in the same circumstances. But in private duel 
 it was often otherwise. See (Euvres de Brantome, torn. viii. 
 
 Page 110. [•]. Ill fared it then tvith Roderick Bhu, That on the field 
 his targe he threw. — A round target of light wood, covered with strong 
 leather, and studded with brass or iron, was a necessary part of a 
 Highlander's equipment. In charging regular troops they received 
 the thrust of the bayonet in this buckler, twisted it aside, and used 
 the broad-sword against the encumbered soldier. In the civil war 
 of 1745, most of the front rank of the clans were thus armed. 
 
 Page 110. [2]. For, trained abroad his arms to wield, Fitz- James' s blade 
 was sword ayid shield. — The use of defensive armor, and particularly 
 of the buckler or target, was general in Queen Elizabeth's time, al- 
 though that of the single rapier seems to have been occasionally 
 practised much earlier. Rowland Yoi'ke, however, who betrayed 
 the fort of Zutplien to the Spaniards, for which good service he was 
 afterwards poisoned by them, is said to have been the first who 
 brought the rapier-fight into general use. 
 
 Page 111 {}]. Like mountain-cat, that guards her young, Fidl at Fitz- 
 James's throat he sprung — I have not ventured to render this duel so 
 savagely desperate as that of the celebrated Sir Ewan of Lochiel, 
 chief of the clan Cameron, called, from his sable complexion, Ewan 
 Dhu. See a curious memoir of Sir Ewan's life, printed in the Ap- 
 pendix of Pennant's Scottish Tour. 
 
 Page 115. [1]. And thou, sad and fatal mound. — An eminence on 
 the north-east of the Castle, where state criminals were executed. 
 
 Page "J 15 [1]. And thou, sad and fatal mound ! That oft hast heard 
 the death-axe sound ! — Stirling was often polluted with noble blood. 
 The fate of William, eighth Earl of Douglas, whom James II. stabbed 
 in Stilling Castle with his own hand, and while under his royal safe- 
 conduct, is familiar to all who read Scottish history. Murdack, 
 Duke of Albany, Duncan, Earl of Lennox, his father-in-law, and 
 his two sons, Walter and Alexander Stuart, were executed at Stir- 
 ling, in 1425. They were beheaded upon a eminence without the 
 Castle walls, but making part of the same hill, from whence they 
 could behold their strong castle of Doune, and their extensive 
 possessions. 
 
 Page 115. [2]. The burghers hold their sports to-day. — Every buvgl) of 
 Scotland, of the least note, but more especially the considerable 
 
NOTES. 327 
 
 towns, had their solemn ^^Za?/ or festival, when feats of arcliery were 
 exhibited, and prizes distributed to tliose wlio excelled in wrestling, 
 hurling- the bar, and the other gynuiastic exercises of the jieriod. 
 The usual prize to the best shooter was a silver arrow 
 
 Page 117. [']. Robin Hood. — The exhibition of this re- 
 nowned outlaw and his band was a favorite frolic at such festivals 
 as we are describing. This sporting, in which kings did not disdain 
 to be actors, was prohibited in Scotland upon the Reformation, by 
 a statute of the 6th parliament of Queen Mary, c. 61, A. D. 1555, 
 which ordered, under heavy penalties, that, " na manner of person 
 be chosen Robert Hude, nor Little John, Abbot of unreason, Queen 
 of May. nor otherwise " It would seem, from complaints of the 
 General Assembly of the Kirk, that those profane festivities were 
 continued down to 1592. 
 
 Page 117. [2]. Indifferent as to archer ivight, The Monarch gave the ar- 
 roio bright. — The Douglas of the poem is an imaginary person, a sup- 
 posed uncle of the earl of Angus. But the King's behavior during 
 an unexpected interview with the Laird of Kilspindie, one of the 
 banished Douglasses, under circumstances similar to those in the 
 text, is imitated from a real story told by Hume of Godscroft. 
 
 Page 118. [1]. Prize of the wrestling match, the king To Douglas gave 
 a golden ring — The usual prize of a wrestling was a ram and a ring, 
 but the animal would have embarrassed my story. 
 
 Page 127. [']. These drew not for their fields the sword, Like tenants of 
 a feudal lord. — The Scottish armies consisted chiefly of the nobility 
 and barons, with their vassals, who held lands under them, for mil- 
 itary service by themselves and their tenants. The patriarchal in- 
 fluence exerted by the heads of clans in the Highlands and Borders 
 was of a diff"erent nature, and sometimes at variance with feudal 
 principles. It flowed from the Patria Potestas, exercised by the chief- 
 tain as representing the original father of the whole name, and was 
 often obeyed in contradiction to the feudal superior. 
 
 Page 129. \}'\. Get thee an ape, and trudge the land. The leader of a 
 juggler band.~The jongleurs, or jugglers, as we learn from the elab- 
 orate work of the late Mr Strutt, on the sports and pastimes of the 
 people of England, used to call in the aid of various assistants, to 
 render these performances as captivating as possible. The glee- 
 maiden was a necessary attendant. Her duty was tumbling and 
 dancing ; and therefore the Anglo-Saxon version of Saint Mark's 
 
828 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Gospel states Herodias to have vaulted or tumbled before King 
 Herod. In Scotland, these poor creatures seem, even at a late per- 
 iod, to have been bonds- women to their masters, as appears from a 
 case reported by Fountainhall. —Z^ecmons, vol. i. p. 439. 
 
 Page 135. [']. That stirring air which peals on high, O'er Dermid's 
 race oiir victory.— There are several instances, at least in tradition, 
 of persons so much attached to particular tunes, as to require to 
 hear them on their death-bed. It is popularly told of a famous free- 
 booter, that he composed the tune kjiown by the name of Mac- 
 pherson's Rant, while under sentence of death, and played it at the 
 gallows-tree. Some spirited words have been adapted to it by Burns. 
 
 Page 136. [i]. Battle of BeaV an Duine. — A .^kiimish actually took 
 place at a pass thus called in the Trosachs, and closed with the re- 
 markable incident mentioned in the text. It was greatly po^terior 
 in date to the reign of James V. 
 
 Page 147. [']. And Snowdoun's knight is Scotland's king. — This dis- 
 covery will probibly remind the reader of the beautiful Aiabian 
 taleof./Z Bondocani. Yet this incident is not borrowed from that 
 elegant story, but from Scottish tradition. James Y., of whom we 
 are treating, was a monarch whose good and benevolent intentions 
 often rendered his romantic freaks venial, if not respectable, since, 
 from his anxious attention to the interests of the lower and most 
 oppressed class of his subjects, he was, as we have seen, popularly 
 termed the King of the Commons For the purpose of seeing that jus- 
 tice was regularly administered, and frequently from the less justi- 
 fiable motive of gallantry, he used to traver.-^e the vicinage of his 
 several palaces in various disguises. 
 
 Page 148. [f]. Stirling's Toioer, Of yore the name of 
 
 Snoivdoun claims. — William of Worcester, who wrote about the middle 
 of the fifteenth century, calls Stirling Castle Snowdoun. Sir David 
 Lindsay bestows the same epithet upon it in his Complaint of the 
 Papingo. 
 
GRAHAM'S 
 WORK AND WORKS. 
 
 With reference to these, 
 
 it may be said — 
 
 BRIEFLY, 
 
 That the STANDARD-PHONOGRAPHIC SERIES greatly surpasses any other se- 
 ries of Shorthand woiks in the whole history of Stenography, as — 
 By the great Superiority — 
 
 1. Of its text-book of PRINCIPLES, or ELEMENTS : THE HAND-BOOK. 
 
 2. Of its text-books of ILLUSTRATIONS : THE FIRST READER and 
 
 THE SECOND READER. 
 
 3. Of its text-book of REFERENCE : THE DICTIONARY. 
 
 4. Of the SYSTEM, as demonstrated by " comparisons " and by all other 
 modes of scientific shorthand criticism, — speedy, and as legible as 
 print, for correspondence, etc., and of adequate speed for reporting, 
 enabling many, by its superior brevity, to become reporters who other- 
 ■wise could not. 
 
 0. Of its NOMENCLATURE— definite and practical, and unfailing — 
 answering as no other system does for either Conversation, Oral Instruc- 
 tion, or for indicating in print shorthand outlines, or forms, as in a 
 Phonographic Dictionary— all very imijortant objects. 
 6. In combining all these grccd2ioints o/ superiority. 
 That his brief LONGHAND i)resents the longhand writer the best means of ex- 
 pediting writing without the use of shorthand signs. 
 
 MO BE EXFLICITLY. 
 
 1. THE TEXT-BOOK OF PRINCIPLES— THE HAND-BOOK— is superior to 
 all other shorthand text-books, in presenting the instruction in Pbinciples, or 
 Elements, in Scientific Form and Manner — with Logical Analysis and Treat- 
 ment OF Subject— with Superior Completeness of Illustration, together with 
 questions for the Teacher or Private Student ; and with various points of 
 Unique Merit too numerous to mention. 
 
 2. THE TEXT-BOOKS OF ILLUSTRATION— THE FIRST, and the SEC- 
 OND, READER— are superior to all other books of the sort, by giving the most 
 Ample and Beautiful and Diversified Illustrations of the Corresponding and Re- 
 porting Styles, accompanied by Keys, and with great fullness and wealth of 
 instruction in the way of notes, and by frequent references to the principles 
 illustrated. 
 
 3. THE TEXT-BOOK OF REFERENCE— THE DICTIONARY— is vastly su- 
 perior to any other work of proximate kind, embracing a much larger Vocabu- 
 lary, or list of Words, than any other shorthand dictionary, together with the 
 Pronunciation (unmistakably indicated—as the PItonograpker, or writer according 
 to Sound, especially needs— by a practical pronouncing alphabet), and with Out- 
 lines for the Corresponding, Advanced Corresponding, Reporting and Advanced 
 Reporting styles (when they are difl"erent), clearly shown by the use of the Standard- 
 Phonographic Nomenclature ; and presenting also, with their reporting out- 
 lines, a list of Phrases, far more extended than ever before or since published. 
 
4. THE SYSTEM— STANDARD PHONOGRAPHY— founded upon tho best 
 form of the Old " EuglLsh Phonography, " presents many remai^kable Impeove- 
 MENTs upon that system, and is far supei'ior to any current shorthand system, as 
 iemonstrated by comparisons of required strokes and liftings of the pen (see 
 pages 7, 8, 9, of this pamphlet) and by all other modes of scientific shorthand 
 comparison and criticism, and by a great volume of testimonials (see Haud-Book, 
 Visitors, and Journals) from manj' of tho best shorthand writers (many of whom 
 had previously studied other systems), and by repeated plagiarizing, or pirating, 
 from tiie Standard-Phonographic Works, And this system is so based upon the 
 Author's newly-evolved science of Phonographic Orthography, presented in Part 
 V. of his Hand-Book, that a scientific Stability has been secured for the Phono- 
 graphic Art, without which there can be assured neither the Diflfusion of the Art, 
 the great benefits of Uniformity, nor a respectable and valuable Phonographic 
 Literature ; yet there is the same need for a Uniform system of shorthand as for 
 a Uniform Language, instead of contemptible dialects. 
 
 5. THENOMENCLATURE— or Name-System— is the only Complete, Practi- 
 cal, Definite, and Precise one ever published, answering perfectly for Conversa- 
 tion, as between Teacher and Pupil ( a most important need not previously 
 met), and serving also to indicate in print, with entire precision, the Outlines, 
 or Forms, of "Words and Phrases, and rendering a Shorthand Dictionary of de- 
 sired Completeness, practicable, and reasonably cheap. 
 
 6. THE COMBINATION OP ALL THESE MERITS constitutes the crown- 
 ing excellence of Standard Phonography, necessitating and explaining its wide 
 adoption both by amateurs and by all the best reporters who have learned report- 
 ing since the publication of the system, over thirty years ago. 
 
 7. THE ADEQUACY OF STAND A.RD PHONOGRAPHY is a very important 
 feature of its superioritv, providing as it does for the wants of correspondence, 
 annotating, composition, etc., a style called (from its principal use) the corres- 
 ponding style, as legible as common print or longhand, and fully equaling the 
 reporting style of any other system (as shown by comparisons ; see pages 7, 
 8, 9, of this pamphlet) ; and providing also— hy a few additional principles, etc.— a 
 Reporting stale, adapted not only for moderate speaking (as some of the other 
 systems are), but also to the most rapid speaking ; and hence, by principles of 
 superior brevity, compactness, and speed, enabling many to become reporters 
 who otherwise could not, and securing complete reports of many rapid utteran- 
 ces that would otherwise be unreported or " slaughtered." 
 
 THE STANDARD-PHONOGRAPHIC SERIES. 
 
 •' A more complete series of works on any subject than Mr. Graham's Standard- 
 Phonographic Series has never been published. These Text-Books are the only 
 ones that are perfect in themselves ; and, in no respect, could I suggest an im- 
 provement in the manner of bringing the subject before even the dullest stu- 
 dent ; and the introduction of them into all institutions of learning, where Pho- 
 nography is taught, is the highest compliment that can be paid to their merit."— 
 Charles Flowers, a superior reporter. 
 
 Tlie Outline. — In Miniature Book-form, bound in paper, 5 cents. One 
 Dozen 36 cents. 
 
 The Little Teacher.— Comprises : 1. The Outline, presenting all the 
 chief elements of Standard Phonography in eight primer-sized pages ; 2. The 
 Little Reading Exercises- furnishing in 16 little pages an exercise on each sec- 
 tion of the Outline. 3. Miniature edition of The Correspondent's List of Word- 
 Signs, Contractions, Phrase-Signs, Prefixes, and Aflixes of the Corresponding 
 Style. Jgtg=-The Little Teacher is a useful pocket companion for students of the 
 Synopsis or Hand-Book. Price 40 cents. 
 
Xlie Synopsis,— New and improved edition.— Comprises : 1. The Synopsis 
 (in 16 duodecimo pages) of all the principles of the Corresponding Style, unmis- 
 takably presented, with numerous engraved illustrations. 2. The Reading Exer 
 cises— in which there is an extended illustration and application of each section 
 of the text ; followed by several pages of connected reading matter ; with an in- 
 terlined translation. 3. " The Correspondent's List." — 12mo edition— comprising 
 an alphabetical list of Corresponding Word-Signs, Contractions, Phrase Signs* 
 Prefixes, and Affixes. This edition is well adapted to the use of either Classes or 
 Private Students. Price, 50 cents. jgf^Thisisa highly Kseful book lor Stu- 
 dent's of the Hand-Book, in making frequent reviews of tho elements. 
 
 Tlie Hand-Book,— Presents every principle of every style of the Art- 
 commencing with tho analysis of words, and proceeding to the most rapid lie- 
 porting Style— in such a Form and Manner, with such Fullness of Explanation 
 and Completeness of Illustration and with such other features as to fully adapt 
 the work to the use of Schools and to Self-Instruction, 366 duodecimo pages. 
 Price, bound in muslin, with embossed side-title, $2.00 ; postpaid, $2.10. 
 
 First Reader. — Engraved in the Corresponding Style, with Key and 
 Questions and Notes ; embracing a great amount of useful reading. $1.75 ; 
 postpaid, $1.81. 
 
 Second Reader. — Engraved in the Reporting Style, with Key and Notes. 
 To be Studied in Connection with theReporting-Style chapter of the Hand-Book. 
 $1,75 ; postpaid, $1.81. 
 
 Standard-Plionograpliic Dictionary,— "The last great crowning 
 work of the Standard Series " — gives the pronunciation, and the best outlines 
 (Corresponding, Advanced-Corresponding, and Reporting) of about 60,000 words, 
 and the forms for about 60,000 phrases. Beyond comparison with any shorthand 
 dictionary or vocabulary ever published. Invaluable to writers of either style. 
 Cloth, $5 ; leather, $6 ; genuine morocco, $7. Octavo-form (from the same plates, 
 with wide margins) cloth, $3 ; leather, C^B ; morocco, C9. 
 
 Practice-Boolt Series,— UCS= Unvocalized Corresponding-Style. En- 
 graved in the Advanced-Corresponding Style, with Key and Questions and Notes. 
 Very useful for practice in reading or writing without the vowels. Composed of 
 short articles of scientific and literary matters. Very interesting and instructive. 
 12mo, 122 pages. Cloth. Price, $1.25. 
 
 \C'R=Intercolum.n Reporting-Stjle. A series of Business Letters engraved in the 
 Eeporting-Style, in one column, and in the adjoining column (most convenient 
 for reference) Key. Notes and Questions. A large portion of these letters was 
 received from phonogi-aphers to whom they had been dictated by their employ- 
 ers, and thus furnish a great variety of subjects and styles of composition. This 
 book will prove invaluable to the student preparing for office work. 12mo, 122 
 pages. Cloth. Price, $1.25. 
 
 The Reporter's List. — With engraved forms and explanations— in 
 pocket-size pages. It combines, in one list, all the Word-Signs and Contractions 
 and Phrase-Signs of the Corresponding-Style and Reporting Style Lists of the 
 Hand-Book, with someadditions from the Dictionary, arranged in phonographic- 
 alphabetical order. In preparation. 
 
 Standard-Phonograpliic Visitor (Vol. I., 1863, to Vol. V., 1871). Out of 
 
 print. 
 
 The Student's Journal.— (Vol. I. 1872, to Vol. XIX., 1890)— A continuous 
 monthly publication of 16 quarto pages, 8 of them in shorthand — is invaluable 
 to all student's of the Art. Price, $1 per year.