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©1^0 ICakfstbe BniSB of lEttgltali IJpabmga 
 
 THE LADY OP THE LAKE 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT 
 
 EDITED AND COMPILED 
 
 WITH AX IXTRDDT'CTiny AXD XOTES 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES E. S. FIELDEN 
 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 AINSWORTH AND COMPANY 
 
 1908 
 
UttWARY of CSNGRESS: 
 IwuiiODles rteCBiiod 
 
 SEP 21 lyy^ 
 
 COPY b. 
 
 Copyright igo8 
 By Ainsworth and Company 
 
PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 The text here given is that of the standard edition of 
 I^ockhart with a few shght modifications in punctuation and 
 spelHng. Scott's notes to the edition of 1830 have been 
 drawn upon somewhat freely, by reason of their iUumina- 
 ting quaUty./^o attempt has been made to give the mean- 
 ing of such words as may be readily found in the best dic- 
 tionaries; the present editor believing that the pupil will 
 derive more benefit from acquiring the habit of frequent 
 reference than he would gain from second-hand information. 
 The author's introduction to the edition of 1830 is given 
 in full as it serves to illustrate Scott's characteristic candor 
 and modesty in speaking of his own work. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 I. Biographical vii 
 
 II. The Lady of the Lake . . .w; r?'. . .• xii 
 
 SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION. . r^. / :-^'. xvii 
 
 EXTRACT FROM SCOTT'S "TALES OF A 
 
 GRANDFATHER" xxiii 
 
 TEXT . 1 
 
 MAP 150 
 
 NOTES 151 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 I. Biographical 
 
 Walter Scott, aptly named "The Wizard of the 
 North," was born in Edinburgh, August 15, 1771. The 
 same day saw thfe nativity of Napoleon Bonaparte. A 
 parentage singularly fitted to inspire the lad with the tra- 
 ditions of his race was his inheritance. His father, kindly, 
 benevolent, and sincere, withal stern and scrupulous, yet 
 in his way affectionate, was a man of standing in the com- 
 munity in which he dwelt. He was a Writer to the Signet, 
 a court officer corresponding to the English barrister or 
 solicitor, in which profession he hoped his son Walter 
 would succeed him. His mother Avas a woman of excellent 
 taste and discrimination. She joined to a happy tempera- 
 ment a strong imaginative nature, which had a material 
 effect upon the future poet and novelist. In his infancy 
 he contracted as a result of a teething fever a lameness 
 from which he never completely recovered. By the advice 
 of his grandfather he was sent to the quiet country farm- 
 house of Sandy Knowe where it was hoped that outdoor 
 air and exercise would restore him to health. It was here 
 that the youth acquired the habit of assiduous reading 
 which never left him, and to which habit the world is 
 largely indebted for that immense knowledge which en- 
 abled him to give in rapid succession such an enormous 
 literary production. 
 
 vii 
 
viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 Many curious and interesting stories are told of Scott's 
 boyhood. At school he was often at the top and as often 
 at the bottom of his class. On one occasion it is related 
 of him that he made a sudden leap to the top. The 
 master had asked the boys "Is with ever a noun?" All 
 were silent until the question reached Walter, then nearly 
 at tlve bottom of the class, who instantly replied by quoting 
 from the seventh verse of the sixteenth chapter of the 
 Book of Judges, "And Samson said unto Delilah, If they 
 bind me with seven green withs that were never dried, 
 then shall I be weak and be as another man." This un- 
 expected answer naturally surprised the master and the 
 others but it sent him to the top of the class. 
 
 As a youth he was an ardent student of old romantic 
 tales. He studied French and Italian which enabled him 
 to read in the original those ancient tales of chivalry which 
 he later so charmingly reproduced. History, poetry, tale, 
 romance, legend all were devoured by him with ravenous 
 appetite. His mind fastened upon everything that was 
 suited to its tastes and digested it into just the kind of 
 nourishment it needed. His biographer has given us the 
 following account of how his afternoons at the age of 
 sixteen or .seventeen were spent: 
 
 Every Saturday, and more frequently during the vaca- 
 tions, we used to retire, with three or fovir books ... to 
 Salisbury Crags, Arthur's Seat, or Blackford Hill, and read 
 them together. He read faster than I, and had, on this 
 account, to wait a little at finishing every two pages, before 
 turning the leaf. The books we most deUghted in were 
 romances of knight-errantry; the "Castle of Otranto," 
 Spenser, Ariosto, and Boiardo, were great favorites. We 
 used to climb up the rocks in search of places where we 
 might sit sheltered from the wind; and the more inaccess- 
 ible they were, the better we liked them. He was very 
 
INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 expert at climbing. Sometimes we got into places where 
 we found it difficult to move either up or down and I recol- 
 lect it being proposed, on several occasions, that I should 
 go for a ladder to see and extricate him ; but I never had 
 any need really to do so, for he always managed somehow 
 either to get down or ascend to the top. The number 
 of books we thus devoured was very great. I forgot a 
 great part of what I read, but my friend, notwithstanding 
 he read with such rapidity, remained, to my surprise, 
 master of it all, and could even weeks or months afterward 
 repeat a whole page in which anything had particularly 
 struck him at the moment. After we had continued this 
 practice of reading for two years or more together, he pro- 
 posed that we should recite to each other alternately such 
 adventures of knight -errants as we could ourselves con- 
 trive; and we continued to do so a long while. He found 
 no difficulty in it, and used to recite for half an hour or 
 more at a time, while I seldom continued half that space. 
 The stories we told were, as Sir Walter has said, intermin- 
 able — for we were unwilling to have any of our favorite 
 knights killed."* 
 
 Scott finished his studies and in June 1792 was called 
 to the bar, where he practiced with only moderate success 
 for fourteen years. As a Writer to the Signet he would 
 probably never have been heard of outside of Scotland, but 
 as an author he earned a fame that was world wide, money 
 in fabulous amounts, and a title. 
 
 In 1797 Scott met Miss Charlotte Mary Carpenter (or 
 Charpentier) the daughter of a French refugee, and on 
 Christmas eve of the same year they were married. Short- 
 ly afterward he was appointe(i to the office of Sheriff of 
 Selkirkshire, at a salary of ;^300 a year, and leased a 
 country home on the Tweed called Ashcstiel. In 1806 he 
 assumed the duties of one of the Clerks of Session, although 
 
 ij. G. Loekhart, Monoirs of the Life of Scott 
 
X INTRODUCTION 
 
 lie did not receive the entire emoluments of this office, 
 which amounted to £1300 annually until 1811. 
 
 Scott began his literary career by the publication in 
 1802 of his first literary success Th Minstrelsi/ of the 
 Scottish Border, a collection of ballads'and songs which 
 brought liim some immediate reputation His other great 
 poems followed in quick succession: The Lay of the Last 
 Minstrel, 1805; Marmion, 1808; The Lady of the 
 Lake, 1810; The Vision of Don Roderick, 1811, and 
 Rokehy, 1813. These were received with acclaim by 
 the reading public and Scott's rejiutation was firmly estab- 
 lished. He found himself famous and wealthy. In 1812 
 he purchased an estate consisting of about one hundred 
 acres, near Melrose Abbey which he named Abbotsford. 
 He spent enormous sums of money in building and im- 
 provements and attained his pet ambition, that of becoming 
 a landed proprietor on an almost baronial scale. In 1820 
 King George IV conferred a baronetcy upon him, thereby 
 crowning his desire for family honors. 
 
 An unfortunate event in the life of the poet was his con- 
 nection with the publishing firm of Ballantyne & Co. 
 and with Constable the publisher of his novels. Both 
 these firms failed in 1826 and Scott found himself liable 
 for their indebtedness, which amounted to the appalling 
 . sum of ;£130,000. Instead of declaring himself bankrupt 
 Scott surrendered all his property at Abbotsford and else- 
 where, and set heroically to work to wipe out this debt. 
 In less than two years time he had earned and paid to his 
 creditors a sum equal to S200 000. But the task was 
 Idlling, and although constantly struggling with disease he 
 worked bravely on. When he was warned by his medical 
 advisers, after his first attack of apoplexy, that if he per- 
 
INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 sisterl in working his brain his malady must inevitably 
 recur with redoubled severity, he replied : "As for bidding 
 me not to work, Molly might as well put the kettle on the 
 fire, and say, 'Now don't boil.' .... I foresee distinctly 
 that if I were to be idle I should go mad." Go mad he 
 did, from excessive labor; but not till after many a warning 
 and presentiment of the attack of which he died. Years 
 before his death the reluctant conviction forced itself on 
 the mind of his son-in-law, Mr. Lockhart, that the mighty 
 magician of the pen was losing something of his energy. 
 Though the faculties were there, and occasionally blazed 
 forth with their old meridian splendor, yet his .sagacious 
 judgment and matchless memory were fret{uently at fault :- 
 
 "Amon^ the chords the fingers strayed, 
 And an uncertain warbling made." 
 
 Ever and anon he paused and looked around him, like one 
 half waking from a dream mocked with shadows. The 
 sad bewilderment of his gaze showed a momentary con- 
 sciousness that, like Samson in the lap of the Philistine, 
 "his strength was passing from him, and he was becoming 
 weak, like unto other men." Then came the strong effort 
 of aroused will The clouds dispersed as if before a re- 
 sistless current of pure air; all was bright and serene as 
 of old; and then the sky was shrouded again in yet deeper 
 darkness, till at last the night of death closed the scene. 
 He died at his beloved Abbot.sford, on September 2], 1832. 
 His remains were buried in the Abbey of Dryburgh. 
 
 Many monuments and statues have been erected to his 
 memory; that in the market-place of Selkirk bears the 
 following inscription : 
 
xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 ERECTED IN AUGUST, 1839. 
 
 IN PROUD AND AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE 
 
 OF 
 
 ■ SIR WALTER SCOTT, BARONET 
 
 SHERIFF OF THIS COUNTY 
 FROM 1800 TO 1832. 
 
 By Yarrow's stream still let me stray. 
 Though none should guide my feeble way; 
 Still feel the breeze down Ettricke break, 
 Although it chill my withered cheek. 
 
 IT. The Lady of the Lake. 
 
 The following synopsis of the story of " The Lady of 
 the Lake" is given by Lord Jeffrey in the "Edinburgh 
 Review" for August 1810, and will aid the pupil in gaining 
 a distinct idea of the perspective of the poem : 
 
 "The first canto begins with a description of a staghunt 
 in the Highlands of Perthshire, As the chase lengthens, 
 the sportsmen drop off; till at last the foremost horseman 
 is left alone; and his horse, overcome with fatigue, stumbles 
 and dies. The adventurer, climbing up a craggy eminence,, 
 discovers Loch Katrine spread out in evening glory before 
 him. The huntsman winds his horn; and sees, to his in- 
 finite surprise, a little skiff, guided by a lovely v/oman, 
 glide from beneath the tiees that overhang the w^ater, and 
 approach the shore at his feet Upon the stranger's ap- 
 proach, she pushes the shallop from the shore in alarm. 
 After a short parley, however, she carries him to a woody 
 island, where she leads him into a sort of sylvan mansion, 
 rudely constructed, and hung round with trophies of war 
 and the chast>. An elderly lady is introduced at supper; 
 and the .stranger, after disclosing himself to be 'James 
 Fitz-James, the knight of Snowdoun,' tries in vain to dis- 
 cover the name and history of the ladies. 
 
 "The second canto opens with a picture of the aged 
 harper, Allan-bane, sitting on the island beach with the 
 damsel, watching the skiff' which carries the stranger back 
 to land. A conversation ensues, from which the reader 
 
INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 gathers that the lady is a daughter of the Douglas, who, 
 being exiled by royal displeasure from court, had accepted 
 this asylum from Sir Roderick Dhu, a Highland chieftain 
 long outlawed for deeds of blood; that this dark chief is in 
 love with his fair protegee, but that her affections are 
 engaged to IVIalcolm Grteme, a younger and more amiable 
 mountaineer. The sound of distant music is heard on 
 the lake; and the barges of Sir Roderick are discovered, 
 proceeding in triumph to the island. Ellen, hearing her 
 father's horn at that instant on the opposite shore, flies to 
 meet bim and Malcolm Gramme, who is received with cold 
 and stately civility by the lord of the isle. Sir Roderick 
 informs the Douglas that his retreat has been discovered, 
 and that the King (James V), under pretence of hunting 
 has assembled a large force in the neighborhood. He 
 then proposes impetuously that they should unite their 
 fortunes by his marriage with Ellen, and rouse the whole 
 Western Highlands. The Douglas, intimating that his 
 daughter has repugnances which she cannot overcome, 
 declares that he will retire to a cave in the neighboring 
 mountains until the issue of the King's threat is seen. 
 The heart of Roderick is wrung with agony at this rejec- 
 tion; and when INIalcoIm advances to Ellen, he puslies him 
 violently back — and a scuffle ensues, which is with difh- 
 culty appeased by the giant arm of Douglas. INIalcohn 
 then withdraws in proud resentment, plunges into the 
 water, and swims over by moonlight to the mainland. 
 
 "The third canto opens with an account of the cere- 
 monies employed in summoning the clan. This is accomp- 
 lished by the consecration of a small wooden cross, which, 
 with its points scorched and dipped in blood, is carried 
 with incredible celerity through the whole territory of the 
 chieftain The eager fidelity with which this fatal signal 
 is carried on, is represented with great spirit. A youth 
 starts from the side of his father's coffin, to bear it forward 
 and, having run his stage, delivers it to a young bridegroom 
 returning from church, who instantly binds his plaid around 
 him, and rushes onward. In the meantime Douglas and 
 his daughter have taken refuge in the mountain cave; 
 
xiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 and Sir Roderick, passing near their retreat on his v.ay to 
 the muster, hears Ellen's voice singing her evening hymn 
 to the Virgin. He does not obtrude on her devotions, but 
 hurries to the place of rendezvous. 
 
 "The fourth canto begins with some ceremonies l)y a 
 wild hermit of the clan, to ascertain the issue of tiie impend- 
 ing war; and this oracle is obtained — that the party shall 
 prevail which first sheds the b'ood of its adversary. The 
 scene then shifts to the retreat of the Douglas, where the 
 minstrel is trying to soothe Ellen in her alarm at the dis- 
 appearance of her father, by singing a fairy ballad to her. 
 As the song ends, the knight of Snowdoun suddenly ap- 
 pears before her, declares his love, and urges her to put 
 herself under his protection. Ellen throws herself on his 
 generosity, confesses her attachment to Granue, and pre- 
 vails on him to seek his own safety by a speedy retreat from 
 the territory of Roderick Dhu. Before he goes, the strang- 
 er presents her with a ring, which he says he has received 
 from King James, with a promise to grant any boon asked 
 by the person producing it. As he retreats, his suspicions 
 are excited by the conduct of his guide, and confirmed by 
 the warnings of a mad woman whom they encounter. 
 His false guide discharges an arrow at him, which kills 
 the maniac. The knight slays the murderer; and learning 
 from the expiring victim that her brain has been turned 
 by the cruelty of Sir Roderick Dhu, he vows vengeance. 
 ^Vhen chilled with the midnight cold and exhausted with 
 fatigue, he suddenly comes upon a chief reposing by a 
 lonely watch-fire; and being challenged in the name of 
 Roderick Dhu, boldly avows hhnself his enemy. The 
 clansman, however, disdains to take advantage of a worn- 
 out wanderer; and pledges him safe escort out of Sir 
 Roderick's territory, when he must answer his defiance 
 with his sword. The stranger accepts these chivalrous 
 terms; and the warriors sup and sleep together. This 
 ends the fourth canto. 
 
 "At dawn, the knight and the mountaineer proceed 
 toward the Lowland frontier. A dispute arises concerning 
 the character of Roderick Dhu, and the knight expresses 
 
INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 his desire to meet in person and do vengeance upon the 
 predatory chief. ' Have then thy wish ' answers his guide ; 
 and gives a loud whistle. A whole legion of armed men 
 start up from their mountain ambush in the heath; while 
 the chief turns proudly and says, 'I am Roderick Dhu.' 
 Sir Roderick then by a signal dismisses his men to their 
 concealment. Arrived at his frontier, the chief forces the 
 knight to stand upon his defense. Roderick, after a hard 
 combat is laid wounded on the ground ; Fitz- James, sound- 
 ing his bugle, brings four squires to his side; and, after 
 giving the wounded chief into their charge, gallops rapidly 
 on towards Stilling. As he ascends the hill to the castle, 
 he descries approaching the same place the giant form of 
 Douglas, who has come to deliver himself up to the king, 
 in order to save Malcolm Graeme and Sir Roderick from 
 the impending danger. Before entering the castle, Doug- 
 las is seized with the whim to engage in the holiday sports 
 which are going forward outside; he wins prize after prize, 
 and receives his reward from the hand of the prince, who, 
 however, does not condescend to recognize his former 
 favorite. Roused at last by an insult from one of the royal 
 grooms, Douglas proclaims himself, and is ordered into 
 custody by the king. At this instant a messenger arrives 
 with tidings of an approaching battle between the clan 
 of Roderick and the King's lieutenant, the Earl of Mar; 
 and is ordered back to prevent the conflict, by announcing 
 that both Sir Roderick and Lord Douglas are in the hands 
 of their sovereign. 
 
 "The last canto opens in the guard room of the royal 
 castle at Stirling, at dawn. While the mercenaries are 
 quarrelling and singing at the close of a night of debauch, 
 the sentinels introduce Ellen and the minstrel Allan-bane 
 — who are come in search of Douglas. Ellen awes the 
 ruffian soldiery by her grace and liberality, and is at length 
 conducted to a more seemly waiting place, until she may 
 obtain audience with the king. While Allan-bane, in the 
 cell of Sir Roderick, sings to the dying chieftain of the 
 glorious battle which has just been waged by his clansmen 
 against the forces of the Earl of Mar, Ellen, in another part 
 
xvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 of the palace, hears the voice of Malcolm Graeme lament- 
 ing his captivity from an adjoining turret. Before she re- 
 covers from her agitation she is startled by the appearance 
 of Fitz-James, who comes to inform her that the court is 
 assembled, and the king at leisure to receive her suit He 
 conducts her to the hall of presence, round which Ellen 
 casts a timid and eager glance for the monarch. But all 
 the glittering figures are uncovereci, and James Fitz-James 
 alone wears his cap and plume. The Knight of Snowdoun 
 is the King of Scotland Struck with awe and terror, Ellen 
 falls speechless at his feet, pointing to the ring which he has 
 put upon her finger. The prince raises her with eager 
 kindness, declares that her father is forgiven, and bids her 
 ask a boon for some other person. The name of Grfieme 
 trembles on her lips, but she cannot trust herself to utter it. 
 The king, in playful vengeance, condemns Malcolm Graeme 
 to fetters, takes a chain of gold from his own neck, and 
 throwing it over that of the young chief, puts the clasp in 
 the hand of Ellen." 
 
THE AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION TO THE LADY 
 OF THE LAKE, EDITION OF 1830 
 
 After the success of Marmion, I felt inclined (o exclaim 
 with Ulysses in the Odyssey: — 
 
 05to9 ^lev Si] deOXo'; adaTO<i e/crereXecrrai. 
 NOy aure (TKOTtop dWov. Odys. xxii. 5. 
 
 " One ventiu'ous scame my hand has won to-day — 
 Another, gallants, yet remains to play." 
 
 The ancient manners, the habits and customs of the 
 aboriginal race by wliom the Highlands of Scotland were 
 inhabited, had always appeared to me peculiarly adapted 
 to poetry. The change in their manners, too, liad taken 
 place almost within my own time, or at least I had learned 
 many particulars concerning the ancient state of the High- 
 lands from the old men of the last generation. I had al- 
 ways thought the old Scottish Gael highly adapted for 
 poetical composition. The feuds and political dissensions 
 which, half a century earlier, would have rendered • the 
 richer and wealthier part of the kingdom indi'sposed to 
 countenance a poem the scene of which was laid in the 
 Highlands, were now sunk in the generous compassion 
 which the English, more than any other nation, feel for 
 the misfortunes of an honourable foe. The poems of 
 Ossian had, by their popularity, sufficiently shown that if 
 writings on Highland subjects were qualified to interest 
 the reader, mere national prejudices were, in the present 
 day, very unlikely to interfere with their success. 
 
 I had also read a great deal, seen much, and heard more, 
 of that romantic country, where I was in the habit of 
 spending some time every autumn; and the scenery of 
 Loch Katrine was connected with the recollection of many 
 a dear friend and merry expedition of former days. This 
 poem, the action of which lay among scenes so beautiful, 
 
 xvii 
 
xviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 and so deeply imprinted on my reeollections, was a 
 laboin- of love, and it was no less so to recall the manners 
 and incidents introduced. The frequent custom of James 
 IV., and particularly of James V., to walk through their 
 kingdom in disguise, afforded me the hint of an incident 
 which never fails to be interesting if managed with. the 
 slightest address or dexterity 
 
 I may now confess, however, that the employment, 
 though attended with great pleasure, was not without its 
 doubts and anxieties. A lady to whom I was nearly related 
 and with whom 1 lived, during her whole life, on the most 
 brotherly terms of affection, was residing with me at the 
 time when the work was in progress, and used to ask me 
 what I could possibly do to rise so early in the morning 
 (that happening to be the most convenient to me for com- 
 position). At last I told her the subject of my meditations; 
 and I can never forget the anxiety ami affection expressed 
 in her reply. "Do not be so rash," she said, "my dearest 
 cousin. You are already popular, — more so, perhaps, 
 than you yourself will believe, or than even I, or other 
 partial friends, can fairly allow to your merit. You stand 
 high — do not rashly attempt to climb higher, and incur the 
 risk of a fall; for, depend upon it, a favourite will not be 
 permitted even to stumble with impunity." I replied to 
 this affectionate expostulation in the words of Montrose — 
 
 " He either fears his fate too much, 
 
 Or his deserts are small, 
 Who dares not put it to the touch 
 
 To gain or lose it all." 
 
 "If I fail," I said, for the dialogue is strong in my recol- 
 lection, "it is a sign that I ought never to have succeeded, 
 and I will write prose for life; you sha'l see no change in my 
 temper, nor will I eat a single meal the worse. But if I 
 succeed — 
 
 ' Up with the bonnie blue bonnet, 
 The dirk, and the feather, and a'!' " 
 
 Afterwards I showed my affectionate and an.dous critic 
 the first canto of the poeni; which reconciled her to my 
 
INTRODUCTION xik 
 
 imprudence. Nevertheless, though I answered thus con- 
 fidently, with the obstinacy often said to be proper to those 
 who bear my surname, I acknowledge that my confidence 
 was considerably shaken by the warning of her excellent 
 taste and unbiased friendship. Nor was I much comforted 
 by her retraction of the unfavorable Judgment, when I 
 recollected how likely a natural partiality was to effect that 
 change of opinion. In such cases, affection rises like a 
 light on the canvas, improves any favoural:)le tints which it 
 formerly exhibited, and throws its defects into the shade. 
 
 I remember that about the same time a friend started 
 in to "heezc up my hope," like the "sportsman with his 
 cutty gun," in the old song. He was bred a farmer, but a 
 man of powerful understanding, natural good taste, and 
 warm poetical feeling, perfectly competent to supply the 
 wants of an imperfect or irregular education. He was a 
 passionate admirer of field-sports, which we often pursued 
 together. 
 
 As this friend happened to dine with me at Ashestiel 
 one day, I took the opportunity of reading to him the first 
 canto of The Lady of the Lake, in order to ascertain the 
 effect the poem was likely to produce upon a person who 
 was but too favourable a representative of readers at large. 
 Tt is of course to be supposed that I determined rather to 
 guide my opinion by what my fncnd might appear to feel, 
 than by what he might think fit to say. Plis reception of 
 my recitation, or prelection, was rather singular. He 
 placed his hand across his brow, and listened with great 
 attention through the whole account of the stag-hunt, till 
 the dogs threw themselves into the lake to follow their 
 master, who embarks with Ellen Douglas. He then 
 started up with a sudden exclamation, struck his hand on 
 the table, and declared, in a voice of censure calculated for 
 the occasion, that the dogs must have been totally ruined 
 by being permitted to take the water after such a severe 
 chase. I own I was much encouraged by the species of 
 revery which had possessed so zealous a follower of the 
 sports of the ancient Nimrod, who had been completely 
 surprised out of all doubts of the reality of the tale. An- 
 
XX INTRODUCTION 
 
 other of his remarks gave me less pleasure. lie rletected 
 the identity of the king with the wandering knight, Fitz- 
 James, when he winds his bugle to summon his attendants. 
 
 This discovery, as ]\Ir. Pepys says of the rent in his 
 candet cloak, was but a trifle, yet it troubled me; and J 
 was at a good deal of })ains to efface any marks by which 
 I thought my secret could be traced before the conclusion, 
 when i relied on it with the same hope of producing effect 
 with which the Irish post-boy is said to reserve a "(rot for 
 the avenue." 
 
 I took uncommon pains to verify the accuracy of the 
 local circumstances of this story. I recollect, in particular, 
 that to ascertain whether I was telling a probable tale I 
 went into Perthshire, to see whether King James could 
 actually have ridden from the banks of Loch Vennachar 
 to Stirling Castle within the time supposed in the poem, 
 and had the pleasure to satisfy myself that it was quite 
 practicable 
 
 After a considerable delay. The Lady of the Lake ap- 
 peared in June, 1810; and its success was certainly so 
 extraordinary as to induce me for the moment to conclude 
 that I had at last fixed a nail in the proverbially inconstant 
 A\heel of Fortime, whose stability in behalf of an individual 
 who had so boldly courted her favours for three successive 
 times had not as yet been shaken. I had attained, perhaps, 
 that degree of reputation at which prudence, or certainly 
 timidity, wonld have made a halt, and discontinued ef- 
 forts by wJiich I was far more likely to diminish my fame 
 than to increase it. But, as the celebrated John Wilkes 
 is said to have explained to his late Majesty, that he him- 
 self, amid his full tide of popularity, was never a Wilkite, 
 so I can, with honest truth, exculpate myself from having 
 been at any time a partisan of my own poetry, even when 
 it was in the highest fashion with the million. It must not 
 be supposed that I was either so ungrateful or so super- 
 abundantly candid as to despise or scorn the value of those 
 whose voice had elevated me so much higher than my own 
 opinion told me I deserved I felt, on the contrary the 
 more grateful to the public, as receiving that froiri par- 
 
INTRODUCTION xxi 
 
 tiality to me which I could not have claimed from merit; 
 and I endeavoured to deserve the partiality by continuing' 
 such exertions as I was capable of for their amusement. 
 
 It may be that I did not, in this continued course of 
 scribbling, consult either the interest of the public or my 
 own. But the former had effectual means of defending 
 themselves, and could, by their coldness, sufficiently check 
 any approach to intrusion; and for myself, I had now for 
 several years dedicated my hours so much to literary labour 
 that I should have felt difficulty in employing myself other- 
 wise; and so, like Dogberry, I generously bestowed all my 
 tedionsness on the public, comforting inyself with the re- 
 ffection that, if posterity should think nic undeserving of 
 the favour with which \ was regarded by my contempor- 
 aries, "they could not but say I had the crown," and liad 
 enjoyed for a time that popularity which is so much 
 coveted. 
 
 I conceived, however, that I held the distinguished situa- 
 tion I had obtained, however unworthily, rather like the 
 champion of pugilism, on the condition of being always 
 ready to show proofs of my skill, than in the manner of the 
 champion of chivalry, who performs his duties only on 
 rare and solemn occasions. I was in any case conscious 
 that I could not long hold a situation which the caprice, 
 rather than the judgment, of tlie public had bestowed upon 
 me, and prefei-red being deprived of my precedenc-e by 
 some more worthy rival, to sinking into contempt for my 
 indolence, and losing my reputation by what Scottish law- 
 yers call the negative prescription. Accordingly, tliose who 
 choose to look at the Introduction to Rokehy, will be able 
 to trace the steps by which I declined as a poet to figure 
 us a novelist ; as the ballad says, Queen Eleanor sunk at 
 Charing Cross to rise again at Queenhithe. 
 
 It only remains for me to say that, during my short 
 pre-eminence of popularity, I faithfully observed the rules 
 of moderation which I had resolved to follow before I began 
 my course as a man of letters. If a man is determined 
 to make a noise in the world, he is sure to encounter abuse 
 and ridicule, as he who gallops furiously through a village 
 
xxii INTRODUCTION 
 
 must reckon on being folknved by the curs in full cry. 
 Experienced persons know that in stretching to flog the 
 latter, the rider is very apt to catch a bad fall; nor is an 
 attempt to chastise a malignant critic attended with less 
 danger to the author. On this principle, I let parody, 
 burlesque, and squibs find their own level; and while the 
 latter hissed most fiercely, I was cautious never to catch 
 them up, as schoolboys do, to throw them back against 
 the naughty boy who fired them off, wisely remembering 
 that they are in such cases a])t to explode in the handling. 
 lyct me add that my reign (since Byron has so called it) 
 was marked by some instances of good-natui-e as well as 
 patience. I never refused a literary person of merit such 
 services in smoothing his way to the public as were in'my 
 power; and I had the advantage — rather an uncommon 
 one with ourinitable race — foenjo}'^ general favour without 
 incurring permanent ill-will, so far as is known to me, 
 among any of my contemporaries. 
 Abbotsford, A])ril, 1830. 
 
P^XTRACT FROM SCOTT'S "TALES OF A GRAND- 
 FATHER" 
 
 [James IV. was killed at the battle of Flodden Field and his 
 wife, Margaret, who was daughter of Henry Vll.of England, 
 conducted the regency during the minority of James V. She 
 was succeeded in the regency by the Duke of Albany, who 
 held power until 1528, when James V. assumed personal exer- 
 cise of the royal prerogatives. The period of the regency 
 was marked by much internal dissension and civil strife. The 
 following extract from Scott's "Tales of a Grandfather" will 
 illustrate better than anything else available, the historical 
 facts in the life of James V., which will help to a better under- 
 standing and appreciation of The Lady of the Lake.] 
 
 Queen Makgaret, who hated her husband Angus, as 
 I have told you, now cond^ined with his enemy Arran, to 
 call James V., her son (though then only twelve years old), 
 to the management of the public affairs; but the Earl of 
 Angus, returning at this crisis from France, speedily ob- 
 tained a superiority in the Scottish councils, and became 
 the head of those nobles who desired to maintain a friendly 
 alliance with England rather than to continue that league 
 \\\{\i France which had so often involved Sccjtland in quar- 
 rels with their powerful neighbour. 
 
 Margaret might have maintained her authoiity, for she 
 was personally much beloved; but it was the fate or the 
 folly of that Queen to form rash marriages. I^ike her 
 brother, Henry of England, who tired of his wives, Mar- 
 garet seems to havebeenaddictedtotireof herhusbands ; but 
 she had not the power of cutting the heads from the spouses 
 whom she desired to be rid of. Having obtained a divorce 
 from Angus, she married a yoimg man of little power and 
 inferior rank, named Henry Stewart, a younger son of 
 Lord Evandale. She lost her influence by that ill-advised 
 measure. Angus, therefore, rf)se to the supreme authority 
 in Scotland, obtained possession of the person of the King, 
 
xxiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 transacted every thing in the name of James, l)ut by his 
 own authority, and became in all res})ects the Kegent of 
 Scotland, though without assuming the name. 
 
 The talents of the Earl of Angus were ec{ual to the 
 charge he had assumed, and as he reconciled himself to 
 his old rival the Earl of Arran, his power seemed founded 
 on a sure basis. He was able to accomplish a treaty of 
 peace with England, which was of great advantage to the 
 kingdom. But, according to the fashion of the times, 
 Angus was much too desirous to confer all the great ofhces, 
 lands, and other advantages in the disposal of the crown, 
 upon his own friends and adherents, to the exclusion of 
 all the nobles and gentry who had either taken part against 
 him in the late struggle for power, or were not decidedly 
 his partisans. The course of justice also was shamefully 
 perverted, by the partiality of Angus for his friends, kins- 
 men, and adherents. 
 
 An old historian says, "that there dared no man strive 
 at law with a Douglas, or yet with the adherent of a 
 Douglas; for if he did, he was sure to get the worst of his 
 law-suit. And," he adds, "although Angus travelled 
 through the country under the pretence of punishing 
 thieves, robbers, and miu*derers, there were no malefactors 
 so great as those which rode in his own company." 
 
 The King, who Avas now fourteen years old, became dis- 
 gusted with the sort of restraint in which Angus detained 
 him, and desirous to free himself from his tutelage. His 
 mother had doubtless a natural influence over him, and 
 that likewise was exerted to the Earl's prejudice. The 
 Earl of Lennox, a wise and intelligent nobleman, near in 
 blood to the King, was also active in fostering his dis- 
 pleasiu'e against the Douglases, and schemes began to 
 be agitated for taking the person of the King out of the 
 hands of Angus. But Angus was so well established in the 
 government that his authority could not be destroyed ex- 
 cept by military force; and it was not easy to bring such to 
 bear against one so powerful, and of such a martial char- 
 acter. 
 
 At length it seems to have been determined to employ 
 
INTRODUCTION xxv 
 
 the agency of Sir Walter Scott of Bucclench, a man of 
 great courage and military talent, head of a num.erons and 
 powerful clan, and possessed of much influence on the 
 Border. He had been once the friend of Angus, and had 
 even scaled the walls of Edinburgh ^^'ith a great body of 
 his clan, in order to render the party of the Earl uppermost 
 in that city. But of late he had attached himself to Len- 
 nox, by whose counsel he seems to have been guided in the 
 enterprise which I am about to give you an account of. 
 
 Some excesses had taken place on the Border, probably 
 by the connivance of Buccleuch, which induced Angus to 
 ■march to Jedburgh, bringing the King in his company, lest 
 he should have made his escape during his absence. He 
 was joined by the clans of Home and Ker, both in league 
 Vxith him, and he had, besides, a considerable body of 
 chosen attendants. Angus was returning from this expe- 
 dition, and had passed the niyht at INIelrose. The Kers 
 and Homes had taken leave of the Earl, who with the King 
 and his retinue had left INIelrose, when a band of a thousand 
 horsemen suddenly appeared on the side of an eminence 
 called Halidon-hill, and, descending into the valley, inter- 
 posed between the Earl and the bridge, by which he must 
 pass the Tweed on his return northwartl. 
 
 "Sir," said Angus to the King, "yonder comes Buc- 
 cleuch, with the Border thieves of Teviotdale and Liddes- 
 dale, to interrupt yoin* Grace's passage. 1 \ow to Gc»<l 
 they shall either fight or fly. You shall halt upon this 
 knoll with my brother George, ■\\ hile we drive off these 
 banditti, and clear the road for your Grace." 
 
 The King made ]io answer, for in his heart he desired 
 that Buccleuch's undertaking might be successful; but he 
 dared not say so. 
 
 Angus, meantime, despatched a herald to charge Buc- 
 cleuch to withdraw with his forces. Scott replied, "that 
 he was come, according to the custom of the Borders, to 
 show the King his clan and followers, and invite his Grace 
 to dine at his house." To which he added, "that he knew 
 the King's mind as Avell as Angus." The Earl advanced, 
 and the Bordereis, shouting their war-cry of Bellenden 
 
xxvl INTRODUCTION 
 
 iinmcdiatcly joined battle, and fought stoutly; hut the 
 Homes and Kers, who were at no great distance, returned 
 on hearing the alarm, and coming through the little village 
 of Darnick, set upon Buccleuch's men and decided the 
 fate of the day. The Border riders fled, but Buccleuch and 
 his followers fought bravely in their retreat, and turning 
 upon the Kers, slew several of them; in particular, Ker of 
 Cessford, a chief of the name, who was killed by the lance 
 of one of the Elliots, a retainer of Buccleuch. His death 
 occasioned a deadly feud between the clans of Scott and 
 Ker, which lasted for a century, and cost much blood. 
 This skirmish took place on the 2oth of July, 1526 About 
 eighty Scottswere slain on the field of battle, and a sentence 
 was pronounced against Buccleuch and many of his clan, 
 as guilty of high treason. But after the King had shaken 
 off the yoke of the Douglases, he went in person to Parlia- 
 ment to obtain the restoration of Buccleuch, who, he de- 
 clared on his kingly word, had come to Melrose without 
 any purpose of quarrel, but merely to pay his duty to his 
 prince, and shoAV him the number of his followers In 
 evidence of which the King affirmed that the said Wat was 
 not clad in armovu-, but in a leathern coat (a buff-coat, I 
 suppose), with a black bonnet on his head. The family 
 were restored to their estates acc<n-dingly; but Sir A^'alter 
 Scott was long afterwards murdered by the Kers, at 
 Edinburgh, in revenge of the death of the I>aird of Cess- 
 ford. 
 
 The Earl of Lennox, being disappointed in j^rocuring the 
 King's release by means of Buccleuch, now resolved to at- 
 tempt it in person. He received much encouragement 
 from the Chancellor Beaton (distinguished at the skirmish 
 called Clean-the-Causeway), from the Earl of Glencairn, 
 and other noblemen, who saw with displeasure the Earl 
 of Angus confining the young King like a prisoner, and that 
 all the administration of the kingdom centred in the Doug- 
 lases. Lennox assembled an army of ten or twelve thou- 
 sand men, and advanced upon Edinburgh from Stirling. 
 Angus and Arran, who were still closely leagued together, 
 encountered Lennox, with an inferior force, near the \illage 
 
INTRODUCTION xxvii 
 
 of Newliston. The rumour that a battle was about to com- 
 mence soon reached Edinburgh, when Sir George Do viglas 
 hastened to call out the citizens in arms, to support his 
 brother, the Earl of Angus. The city bells were rung, 
 trumpets were sounded, and the King himself was obliged 
 to mount on horseback, to give countenance to the measures 
 of the Douglases, whom in his soul he detested. James 
 was so sensible of his situation that he tried, by every 
 means in his power, to delay the march of the forces which 
 were mustered at Edinburgh. When they reac-hed the 
 village of Corstorphine, they heard the thunder of the gxms ; 
 which inflamed the fierce impatience of George Douglas 
 to reach the field of battle, and also increased the delays 
 of the young King, who was in hopes Angus miglit be de- 
 feated before his brother could come up. I^ouglas, per- 
 ceiving this, addressed the King in language which James 
 never forgot nor forgave: — "Your Grace need not think to 
 escape us,' said this fierce warrior; "if om* enemies had 
 hold of you on one side, and we on the other, we would 
 tear you to pieces ere we would let you go." 
 
 Tidings now came from the field of battle that T>ennox 
 had been defeated, and that Angus had gained the victory. 
 The young King, dismayed at the news, now urged his 
 attendants to gallop forward, as much as he had formerly 
 desired them to hang back. He charged them to prevent 
 slaughter, and save lives, especially that of Lennox Sir 
 Andrew Wood, one of the King's cup-bearers, arrived in 
 the field of battle time enough to save the Earl of Glen- 
 cairn, who was still fighting gallantly by assistance of some 
 strong groimd, though he had scarce thiriy men left alive; 
 and Wootl contrived to convey him safe out of the field. 
 But Lennox, about whose safety the King was so anxious, 
 was already no more. He had been slain, in cold blood, 
 by that bloodthirsty man, Sir James Hamilton of Draphane 
 who took him from the Laird of Pardivan, to whom he had 
 surrendered himself. This deed seemed to flow from the 
 brutal nature of the perpetrator, who took such a pleasure 
 in shedding blood that he slashed with his own hand the 
 faces of many of the prisoners. Arran, the father of this 
 
xxviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 ferocious man, bitterly lamented the fate of Lennox, who 
 was his nejihew. He was found mourning beside the 
 body, over which he had spread his scarlet cloak. "The 
 hardiest, stoutest, and wisest man that Scotland bore," 
 he said, "lies here slain." 
 
 After these two victories, the Earl of Angus seemed to 
 be .so firmly established in power that his followers set no 
 bounds to their presumption, and his enemies were obliged 
 to fly and hide themselves. Chancellor Beaton, disguised 
 us a shepherd, fed sheep on Borgia n-knowe, until he made 
 his peace with the Earls of Angus and Arran, by great 
 gifts, both in money and in chin-ch lands. Angus estab- 
 lished aroimil the King's person a guard of a hundred men 
 of his own choice, commanded by Douglas of Parkhead; 
 he made his brother George, whon\ James detested. Mas- 
 ter of the Royal Household; and Archibald of Kilspindie, 
 his uncle. Lord Treasurer of the Realm. But the close 
 restraint in which the King foimd himself, only increased 
 his eager desire to be rid of all the Douglases together. 
 Force having failed in two instances, James had recourse 
 to stratagem. 
 
 He prevailed on his mother. Queen Margaret, to yield 
 up to him thecastle of Stirling, which was her jointure- 
 house, and secretly to put it into the hands of a governor 
 whom he could trust. This was done with much caution. 
 Thus prepared with a place of refuge, James watched M'ith 
 anxiety an opportunity of flying to it; and he conducted 
 himself with such apparent confidence toward Angus that 
 the Douglases were lulled into seciu'ity, and concluded 
 that the King was reconciled to his state of bondage, and 
 had despaired of making his escape. 
 
 James was then residing at Falkland, a royal palace 
 conveniently situated for hunting and hawking, in which 
 he seemed to take great pleasure. The Earl of Angus at 
 this period left the covu't for Lothian, where he had some 
 lu-gent busines.s — Archibald Douglas of Kilspindie went to 
 Dundee, to visit a lady to whom he was attached — and 
 Ceorge Douglas had gone to St. Andrews, to extort some 
 further advantages from Chancellor Beaton, who was now 
 
INTRODUCTION xxix 
 
 archbishop of that see, and primate of Scotland. There 
 was thus none of the Douglases left about the King's 
 person, except Pavkhead, with his guard of one hiuiderd 
 men, in whose vigilance the others confided. 
 
 The King thought the time favourable for his escape. 
 To lay all sus|)icion asleej), he pretended he was to rise 
 next morning at an early hour, for the ])urpose of hunting 
 the stag. Douglas of Parkhead, suspecting nothing, retirc-d 
 to bed after placing his watch. But the King was no sooner 
 in his private chamber than he called a trusty page, named 
 John Hart: — 
 
 "Jockie," said he, "dost thou love me?" 
 
 "Better than myselfy" answered the domestic. 
 
 "And will you risk any thing for me?" 
 
 "My life, with pleasure," said John Hart. 
 
 The King then explained his purpose, and dressing iiini- 
 self in the attire of a groom, he went with Hart to the 
 stable, as if for the purpose of getting the horses ready 
 for the next day's hunt. The guards, deceived by their 
 appearance, gave them no interruption. At the stables 
 three good horses were saddled and in readiness, under 
 charge of a yeoman, or groom, whom the King had en- 
 trusted with his design. 
 
 James mounted with his two servants, and galloped, 
 during the Avhole jiight, as eager as a bird just escaped 
 from a cage. At daylight he reached the bridge of Stirling, 
 which was the only mode of passing the river Poith, except 
 by boats. It was defended by gates, which the King, after 
 })assing through them, ordered to be closed, and directed 
 the passage to be watched. He was a weary man when 
 he reached Stirling castle, where he was joyfully received 
 by the governor, whom his mother had placed in that 
 strong fortress. The draw-bridges were raised, the port- 
 cullises dropt, guards set, and every measure of defence 
 and precaution resorted to. But the King Avas so much 
 afraid of again falling into the hands of the Douglases, 
 that, tired as he was, he would not go to sleep until the 
 keys of the castle were placed in his own keeping, and laid 
 underneath liis pillow. 
 
XXX INTRODUCTION 
 
 In the morning there was great alarm at Falkland. Sir 
 George Douglas had returned thither, on the night of the 
 King's departure, about eleven o'clock. On his arrival, 
 he inquired after the King, and was answered In- llie j)orter 
 as well as the watchman upon guard, that he was sleeping 
 in his chamber, as he intended to hunt early in the morn- 
 ing. Sir George therefore retired to rest in full security. 
 But the next morning he learned different tidings. One 
 Peter Carmichael, bailie of Abernethy, knocked at the 
 door of his chamber, and asked him if he knew "what the 
 King was doing that morning?" 
 
 "He is in his chamber asleep," said Sir (u-f)rge. 
 
 "You are mistaken," answered Carmichael; "he ])assed 
 the bridge of Stirling this last night." 
 
 On hearing this, Douglas started up in haste, went to 
 the King's chamber, and knocked for admittance. AMien 
 no answer was returned, he caused the door to be forced, 
 and when he found the apartment empty, he cried, "Trea- 
 son! — The King is gone, and none knows whither." 
 Then he sent post to his brother, the Earl of Angus, and 
 despatched messengers in every direction, to seek the King, 
 and to as.semble the Douglases. 
 
 When the truth became known, the adherents of Angus 
 rode in a body to Stirling, l)Ut the King was so far from 
 desiring to receive them, that he threatened, by .sound of 
 trumpet, to declare any of the name of Douglas a traitor 
 who should approach within twelve miles of his jx'rson, 
 or who should presimie to meddle with the administration 
 of government. Some of the Douglases inclined to resist 
 this proclamation; but the Earl of Angus and his brother 
 resolved to obey it, and withdrew to linlithgow. 
 
 Soon afterwards, the King assembled aroimd him the 
 numerous nobility, who envied the power of Angus and 
 Arran, or had suffered injuries at their hands; and, in open 
 ])arliament, accused them of treason, declaring, that he 
 liad never been sure of his life all the while that he was in 
 their power. A sentence of forfeiture was, therefore, 
 passed against the Earl of Angus, and he was driven into 
 exile, with all his friends and kinsmen. And thus the 
 
INTRODUCTION xxxi 
 
 Red Douglases, of the house of Angus, shared almost the 
 same fate with the Black Douglases, of the elder branch of 
 that mighty house; with this difference, that as they had 
 never risen so high, so they did not fall so irretrievably; 
 for the Earl of Angus lived to return and enjoy his estates 
 in Scotland, where he again played a distinguished part. 
 But this was not till after the death of James V., who 
 retained, during his whole life, an implacable resentment 
 against the Douglases, and never permitted one of the 
 name to settle in Scotland while he lived. 
 
 James persevered in this resolution even under circum- 
 stances which rendered his unrelenting resentment ungen- 
 erous. Archibald Douglas of Kilspindie, the Earl of 
 Angus's uncle, had been a personal favourite of the King 
 before the disgrace of his family. He was so much recom- 
 mended to James by his great strength, manly appearance, 
 and skill in every kind of warlike exercise, that he Avas 
 wont to call him his Graysteil, after the name of a champion 
 in a romance then popular. Archibald, becoming rather 
 an old man, and tired of his exile in England, resolved to 
 try the King's mercy. He thought tliat as they had been 
 so well acquainted formerly, and as he had never offended 
 James personally, he might find favour from tjieir old 
 intimacy. He therefore threw himself in the King's way 
 one day as he returned from hunting in the park at Stirling. 
 It was several years since James had seen him, but he 
 knew him at a great distance, by his firm and stately step, 
 and said, "Yonder is my Graysteil, Archibald of Kils- 
 pindie." But when they met, he showed no appearance 
 of recognizing his old servant, Douglas turned, and still 
 hoping to obtain a glance of favourable recollection, ran 
 along by the King's side; and although James trotted his 
 horse hard against the h'll, and Douglas wore a heavy 
 shirt of mail under his clothes, for fear of assassination, yet 
 Graysteil was at the castle gate as soon as the King. 
 James passed him, and entered the castle; but Douglas 
 exhausted with exertion, sat down at the gate and asked for 
 a Clip of wine. The hatred of the King against the name 
 of Douglas was so well known, that no domestic about the 
 
xxxii INTRODUCTION 
 
 court dared procure for the old warrior even this trifling 
 refreshment. The King blamed, indeed, his servants for 
 their discourtesy, and even said, that but for his oaths never 
 to employ a Douglas, he would have received Archibald 
 of Kilspindie into his service, as he had formerly known 
 him a man of great ability. Yet he sent his commands to 
 liis poor Graysteil to retire to France, where he died heart- 
 broken soon afterwards. Even Plenry VIII. of England, 
 himself of an unforgiving temper, blamed the implacability 
 of James on this occasion, and quoted an old proverb, — 
 
 " A Kin2;'s face 
 Should give grace." 
 
 Freed from the stern control of the Douglas family, 
 James V. now began to exercise the government in person, 
 and displayed most of the qualities of a wise and good 
 prince. He was handsome in his person, and resembled 
 his father in the fondness for military exercises, and the 
 spirit of chivalrous honour which James IV. loved to dis- 
 play. He also inherited his father's love of justice, and 
 liis desire to establish and enforce wise and equal laws, 
 which should protect the weak against the oppression of 
 the great. It was easy enough to make laws, but to put 
 them in vigorous exercise was of much greater difficulty; 
 and in his attempt to accomplish this laudable purpose, 
 James often incurred the ill-will of the more powerful 
 nobles. He was a well educated and accomplished manj 
 and like his ancestor, James I., was a poet and a musician. 
 He had, however, his defects. He avoided his father's 
 failing of profusion, having no hoarded treasures to employ 
 on pomp and show; but he rather fell into the opposite 
 fault, being of a temper too parsimonious; and though he 
 loved state and display, he endeavoured to gratify that 
 taste as economically as possible, so that he has been cen- 
 sured as rather close and covetous. He was also, though 
 the foibles seem inconsistent, fond of pleasure, and dis- 
 posed to too much indulgence. It must be added, that 
 when provoked, he was unrelenting even to cruelty; for 
 which he had some apology, considering the ferocity of the 
 
INTRODUCTION xxxiu 
 
 subjects over whom he reigned. But, on the whole, 
 James V. was an amiable man, and a good sovereign. 
 
 Plis first care was to bring the Borders of Scotland to 
 some degree of order. These, as you were formerly told, 
 were inhabited by tribes of men, forming each a ciifFerent 
 clan, as they were called, and obeying no orders, save those 
 which were given by their chiefs. These chiefs were sup- 
 posed to represent the first foimder of the name, or family. 
 The attachment of the clansmen to the chief was very 
 great; indeed, they paid respect to no one else. In this 
 the Borderers agreed with the Highlanders, as also in their 
 love of plunder, and neglect of the geneial laws of the 
 country. But the Border men wore no tartan dress, and 
 served almost always on horseback, wlicrcas the High- 
 landers acted always on foot. You will also remember that 
 the Borderers spoke the Scottish language, and not the 
 Gaelic tongue used by the mountaineers. 
 
 The situation of these clans on the frontiers exposed 
 them to constant war; so that they thought of nothing else 
 but of collecting bands of their followers together, and 
 making incursions, without much distinction, on the Eng- 
 lish, on the Lowland (or inland) Scots, or upon each other 
 They paid little respect either to times of truce or treaties 
 of peace, but exercised their depredations v^ithout regard 
 to either, and often occasioned wars betwixt England and 
 Scotland which would not otherwise have taken place. 
 
 It is said of a considerable family on the Borders, that 
 when they had consumed all the cattle about the castle, 
 a pair of spurs was placed on the table in a covered dish, 
 as a hint that they must ride out and fetch more. The 
 chiefs and leading men told down their daughters' portions 
 according to the plunder which they were able to collect 
 in the course of a Michaelmas moon, when its prolonged 
 hght allowed them opportunity for their free-booting ex- 
 cursions. They were very brave in battle, but in time of 
 peace they were a pest to their Scottish neighbours. As 
 their insolence had risen to a high pitch after the field 
 of Flodden had thrown the country into confusion, James 
 V. resolved to take very severe measures against them. 
 
xxxiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 His first step was to secure the persons of the principal 
 chieftains by whom these disorders were privately encour- 
 aged. The Earl of Bothwell, the Lord Home, Lord Max- 
 well, Scott of Buccleuch, Ker of Faii-niehirst, and other 
 powerful chiefs who might have opposed the King's pur- 
 poses, were seized, and imprisoned in separate fortresses 
 in the inland country. 
 
 James then assembled an army, in which warlike pur- 
 poses were united with those of silvan sport ; for he ordered 
 all the gentlemen in the wild districts which he intended to 
 visit, to bring in their best dogs, as if his only purp(jse had 
 been to hunt the deer in those desolate regions. This 
 was intended to prevent the Borderers from taking the 
 alarm, in which case they would have retreated into their 
 mountains and fastnesses, from whence it would have been 
 difficult to dislodge them. 
 
 These men had indeed no distinct idea of the offences 
 which they had committed, and consequently no appie- 
 hension of the King's displeasure against them. The laws 
 had been so long silent in that remote and disorderly 
 country, that the outrages which were practised by the 
 strong against the weak seemed to the perpetrators the 
 natural course of society, and to present nothing that was 
 worthy of punishment. 
 
 Thus, as the King, in the beginning of his expedition, 
 suddenly approached the castle of Piers Cockburn of 
 Henderland, that baron was in the act of providing a 
 great entertainment to welcome him, when James caused 
 him to be suddenly seized on, and executed. Adam Scott 
 of Tushielaw, called the King of the Border, met the same 
 fate. But an event of greater importance was the fate of 
 John Armstrong, of Gilnockie, near Langholm. 
 
 This free-booting chief had risen to great consequence, 
 and the whole neighbouring district of England paid him 
 black mail, that is, a sort of tribute, in consideration of 
 which he forebore plundering them. He had a high idea 
 of his own importance, and seems to have been unconscious 
 of having merited any severe usage at the King's hands. 
 On the contrary, he came to meet his sovereign at a place 
 
INTRODUCTION xxxv 
 
 about ten miles from Hawick, called Carlinrigg chapel, 
 richly dressed, and having with him twenty-four gentlemen, 
 his constant retinue, as well attired as himself. The King, 
 incensed to see a free-booter so gallantly equipped, com- 
 manded him instantly to be led to execution, saying, 
 "What wants this knave, save a crown, to be as magnificent 
 as a king?" John Armstrong made great offers for his 
 life, offering to maintain himself, with forty men, ready to 
 serve the King at a moment's notice, at his own expense; 
 engaging never to hurt or injure any Scottish subject, as 
 indeed had never been his practice; and undertaking, that 
 there was not a man in England, of whatever degree, duke, 
 earl, lord, or baron, but he would engage, within a short 
 time, to present him to the King, dead or alive. But 
 when the King would listen to none of his offers, the robber 
 chief said, very proudly, " I am but a fool to ask grace at a 
 graceless face; but had I guessed you would have used me 
 thus, I would have kept the Border-side, in despite of the 
 King of England and you both; for I well know that King 
 Henry would give the weight of my best horse in gold to 
 know that I am sentenced to die this day." 
 
 John Armstrong was led to execution, with all his men, 
 and hanged without mercy. The people of the inland 
 counties were glad to be rid of him ; but on the Borders he 
 was both missed and mourned, as a brave warrior, and a 
 stout man-at-arms against England. 
 
 Such were the effects of the terror struck by these general 
 executions, that James was said to have made "the rush 
 bush keep the cow;" that is to say, that even in this lawless 
 part of the country, men dared no longer make free with 
 property, and cattle might remain on their pastures un- 
 watched. James was also enabled to draw profit from the 
 lands which the crown possessed near the Borders, and is 
 said to have had ten thousand sheep at one time grazing 
 in Ettrick forest, under the keeping of one Andrew Bell, 
 who gave the King as good an account of the profits of the 
 flock as if they had been grazing in the bounds of Fife, 
 then the most civilized part of Scotland. 
 
 On the other hand, the Borders of Scotland were greatly 
 
xxxvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 weakened by tlie destruction of so many brave men, who, « 
 notwithstanding their hiwless course of Ufe, were true 
 defenders of their country; and there is reason to censure 
 the extent to which James carried his severity; as being to 
 a certain degree impohtic and beyond doubt cruel and 
 excessive. 
 
 In the hke inanner james ])roceeded against the Higli- 
 land chiefs; and by executions, forfeitures, and other severe 
 measures, lie brought the Northern mountaineers, as he 
 had already done those of the South, into comparative 
 sul)jection. He then set at liberty the Border chiefs, and 
 others whom he had imprisoned, lest they should have 
 offered any hindrance to the coin\se of his justice. 
 
 As these fiery chieftains, after this severe chastisement, 
 could no longer as formerly attack each other's castles and 
 lands, they were forced to vent their deadly animosities in 
 duels, wliich were frequently fought in the King's presence, 
 his royal permission being first obtained. Thus, Douglas 
 of Drumlanrig and Charteris of Amisfield did battle to- 
 gether in presence of the King, each having accused the 
 other of high treason. They fought on foot with huge 
 two-handed swords. Drumlanrig was somewhat blind, or 
 sh(jrt-sighted, and being in great fury, striick about him 
 without seeing where he hit, and the Laird of Amisfield 
 was not more successful, fer his sword broke in the en- 
 counter: upon this, the King caused the battle to cease, 
 and the combatants were with difficulty separated. Thus 
 the King gratified tliese unruly barons, by permitting them 
 to fight in his own presence, in order to induce them to 
 remain in peace elsewhere. 
 
 James V., like his father James IV., had a custom of 
 going about the country disguised as a private person, in 
 order that he might hear complaints which might not 
 otherwise reach his ears, and, perhaps, that he might enjoy 
 amusements which he could not have partaken of in his 
 avowed royal character. This is also said to have been a 
 custom of James IV., his father, and several adventures 
 are related of what befell them on such occasions. One 
 or two of these narratives may help to enliven our story. 
 
INTRODUCTION xxxvii 
 
 When James V. travelled in disguise, he used a name 
 which was known only to some of his principal nobility 
 and attendants. He was called the Goodman (the tenant, 
 that is) of BalJengiech. Ballengiech is a steep pass which 
 leads down behind the castle of Stirling. Once upon a time 
 when the court was feasting in Stilling, the King sent for 
 some venison from the neighbouring hills. The (leer were 
 killed, and put on horses' backs to be transported to Stir- 
 ling. Unluckily they had to pass the castle gates of Arn- 
 pryor, belonging to a chief of the Buchanans, who chanced 
 to have a considerable number of guests with him. It M'as 
 late, and the company were rather short of victuals, though 
 they had more than enough of liquor. The chief, seeing 
 so much fat venison passing his very door, seized on it; 
 and to the expostulations of the keepers, who told him it 
 belonged to King James, he answei-ed insolently, that if 
 James was King in Scotland, he, Buchanan, was King in 
 Kippen; being the name of the district in which the castle 
 of Arnpryor lay. On hearing what had happened, the 
 King got on horseback, and rode instantly from Stirling 
 to Buchanan's house, where he found a. strong fierce- 
 looking Highlander, with an axe on his shoulder, standing 
 sentinel at the door. This grim warder refused the King 
 admittance, saying, that the Laird of Arnpryor was at 
 dinner, and would not be disturbed. "Yet go up to the 
 company, my good friend," said the King, "and tell him 
 that the Goodman of Ballengiech is come to feast with the 
 King of Kippen." The porter M'ent grumbling into the 
 house, and told his master that there was a fellow with a 
 red beard at the gate, who called himself the Goodman of 
 Ballengiech, who said he was come to dine with the King 
 of Kipj)en. As soon as Buchanan heard these words, he 
 knew that the King was come in person, and hastened 
 down to kneel at James's feet, and to ask forgiveness for 
 his insolent behaviour. But the King, who only meant to 
 give him a fright, forgave him freely, and, going into the 
 castle, feasted on his own venison which Buchanan had 
 intercepted. Buchanan of Arnpryor was ever afterwards 
 called the Jving of Kippen. 
 
xxxviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 I'jion another occasion, King James, being alone and in 
 disguise, fell into a quarrel with some gypsies, or other 
 vagrants, and was assaulted by four or five of them. This 
 chanced to be very near the bridge of Cramond; so the 
 King got on the bridge, which, as it was high and narrow, 
 enabled him to defend himself with his sword against the 
 number of persons by whom he was attacked. There was 
 a poor man thrashing corn in a barn near by, who came 
 out on hearing the noise of the scuffle, and seeing one man 
 Mefending himself against numbers, gallantly took the 
 King's part with his flail, to such good purpose, that the 
 gypsi(>s were obliged to fly. The husbandman then took 
 the King into the barn, brought him a towel and water to 
 wash the blood from his face and hands, and finally walked 
 with him a little way towards Edinburgh, in case he should 
 again be attacked. On the way, the King asked his com- 
 panion what and who he was. The labourer answered, 
 that his name was John Howieson, and tliat he was a 
 bondsman on the farm of Braehead, near Cramond, which 
 belonged to the King of Scotland. James then asked the 
 poor man, if there was any wish in the w^(jrld which he 
 would particularly desire should be gratified; and honest 
 John confessed, he should think himself the happiest man 
 in Scotland were he but proprietor of the farm on which 
 he wrought as a labourer. He then asked the King, 
 in turn, who he was; and James replied, as visual, that he 
 was the Goodman of Ballengiech, a poor man who had a 
 small appointment about the palace; but he added, that 
 if John Howieson would come to see him on the next 
 Sunday, he would endeavour to repay his manful assistance, 
 and, at least, give him the pleasure of seeing the royal 
 apartments. 
 
 John put on his best clothes, as you may suppose, and 
 appearing at a postern gate of the palace, enquired for the 
 Goodman of Ballengiech. The King had given orders 
 that he should be admitted; and John found his friend, 
 the goodman, in the same disguise which he had formerly 
 worn. The King, still preserving the character of an 
 inferior officer of the household, conducted John Howieson 
 
INTRODUCTION xxxix 
 
 from one apartment of the palace to another, and was 
 amused with his wonder and his remarks. At length, 
 James asked his visitor if he should like to see the King; 
 to which John replied, nothing would delight him so 
 much, if he could do so without giving offence The 
 Goodman of Ballengiech, of course, undertook that the 
 King would not be angry. "But," said John, "how^ am 
 I to know his Grace from the nobles who will be all about 
 him?" — "Easily," replied his companion; "all the others 
 will be uncovered — the King alone wdll wear his hat or 
 bonnet." 
 
 So speaking. King James introduced the countryman 
 into a great hall, wdiich w'as filled by the nobility and 
 officers of the crown. John was a little frightened, and 
 drew close to his attendant; but v.-as still unable to dis- 
 tinguish the King. " I told yoti that you should know him 
 by his wearing his hat," said the conductor. "Then," 
 Buid John, after he had again looked round the room, 
 "it must be either you or me, for all but us two are bare- 
 headed." 
 
 The King laughed at John's fancy; and that the good 
 yeoman might have occasion for mirth also, he made him 
 a present of the farm of Braehead, which he had wished 
 so much to possess, on condition that John Howieson, 
 or his successors, should be ready to present a ewer and 
 basin for the King to wash his hands, when his Majesty 
 should come to Holyrood palace, or should pass the bridge 
 of Cramond. Accordingly, in the year 1822, when George 
 IV. came to Scotland, the descendant of John Howieson 
 of Braehead, who still possesses the estate which was given 
 to his ancestor, appeared at a solemn festival, and offered 
 his Majesty water from a silver ewer, that he might per- 
 form the service by w^hich he held his lands. 
 
 James V. was very fond of hunting, and, when he pur- 
 sued that amusement in the Highlands, he used to wear the 
 peculiar dress of that country, having a long and wide 
 Highland shirt, and a jacket of tartan velvet, with- plaid 
 hose, and every thing else corresponding. The accounts 
 for these are in the books of his chamberlain, still preserved. 
 
xl INTRODUCTION 
 
 On one occasion, when the King had an ambassador 
 of the Pope along with him, with various l'or<>ig)icrs of 
 distinction, they were splencHdly entertained by the Pkrl 
 of Athule in a huge and singular rustic ])alace It was 
 built of timber, in the nndst of a great meadowy and sur- 
 rounded by moats, or fosses, full of the most delicate fish. 
 It was enclosed and defended by towers, as if it had been 
 a regular castle, and had within it many apartments, 
 which were decked Avith flowers and branches, so that in 
 treading them one seemed to be in a garden. Here were 
 all kinds of game, and other provisions in abundance, 
 with many cooks to make them ready, and plenty of the 
 most costly spices and wines. The Italian junbassador 
 \\as greatly surprised to see, amongst rocks and wil- 
 dernesses, which seem to be the very extremity of the 
 World, such goocJ lodging a'nd so magnificent an entertain- 
 ment. But what surprised him most of all, Avas to see the 
 Highlanders set fire to the wooden castle as soon as the 
 hujiting was over, and the King in the act of departing. 
 "Such is the constant practice of our Highlanders," said 
 James to the ambassador; "however well they may be 
 lodged over night, they always burn their lodging before 
 they leave it." By this the King intimated the predatory 
 and lawless habits displayed by these mountaineers. 
 
 The reign of James V. was not alone distinguished by his 
 personal adventures and pastimes, but is honourably re- 
 membered on account of wise laws made for the govern- 
 ment of his people, and for restraining the crimes and 
 violence which were frequently practised among them; 
 espcH'ially those of assassination, burning of houses, and 
 driving of cattle, the usual and ready means by which 
 powerful chiefs avenged themselves of their feudal enemies. 
 
 For the decision of civil questions, James V. invented 
 and instituted what is called the College of Justice, being 
 the Supreme Court of Scotland in civil affairs. It consisted 
 of fourteen judges (half clergy, half laity), and a president, 
 who heard and decided causes. A certain number of 
 learned men, trained to understand the laws, were ap- 
 pointed to the task of pleading the causes of such as had 
 
INTRODUCTION xli 
 
 law-snits before these judges, who constituted what is 
 pojDularly termed the Court of Session. These men were 
 called advocates; and this was the first establishment of a 
 body, regularly educated to the law, which has ever since 
 been regarded in Scotland as an honourable profession, and 
 has produced many great men. 
 
 This active and patriotic Prince ordered the mineral 
 wealth of Scotland to be also enquired into. He obtained 
 miners from Germany, who extracted both silver and gold 
 from the mines of Leadhills, in the upper part of Clydes- 
 dale. The gold was of fine quality, and found in quantity 
 sufficient to supply metal for a very elegant gold coin, 
 which, bearing on one side the head of James V. wearing 
 a bonnet, has been thence called the Bonnet-piece. It is 
 said, that upon one occasion the King invited the ambassa- 
 dors of Spain, France, and other foreign countries, to 
 hunt with him in Crawford INIoor, the district in which lie 
 the mines I have just mentioned. They dined in the castle 
 of Crawford, a rude old fortress. The King made some 
 apology for the dinner, which was composed of the game 
 they had killed during the hunting and hawking of the day. 
 but he assured his guests that the dessert would make them 
 some amends, as he had given directions that it should 
 consist of the finest fruits which the country afforded. 
 The foreigners looked at each other in surprise, on hearing 
 the King talk of fruits being produced amidst the black 
 moors and barren mountains around them. But the des- 
 sert made its appearance in the shape of a number of 
 covered saucers, one of which was placed before each 
 guest, and being examined was found full of gold bonnet- 
 pieces which they were desired to accept as the fruit ])ro- 
 duced by the mountains of Crawford Moor. This new 
 sort of dessert was no doubt as acceptable as the most 
 delicate fruits of a southern cliniate. The mines of the 
 country are now wrought only for lead, of which they pro- 
 duce still a very large quantity. 
 
 Although, as we have mentioned, ,lames was a good 
 economist, he did not neglect the cultivation of the fine 
 
xlii INTRODUCTION 
 
 arts. He rebuilt the palace of lyinlithjiow, wliieh is on a 
 most maguifieent plan, and made additions to that of 
 Stirling. He encouraged several excellent poets and 
 learned men, and his usual course of life appears to have 
 been joyous and happy. He was hmiself a poet of some 
 skill, and he permitted great freedom to the rhymers of his 
 time, in addressing verses to him, some of which conveyed 
 severe censures of his govenmjent, and other satires on his 
 foibles. 
 
 I'hc disgraceful news of the battle, or rather the rout of 
 Solway, filled up the measure of the King's despair and 
 desolation. He shut himself up in the palace of Falldinid, 
 and refused to listen to any consolation. A burning fever, 
 the consequence of his grief and shame, seized on the 
 unfortunate monarch. They brought him tidings that his 
 wife had given birth to a daughter; but he only replied, 
 "Is it so?" reflecting on the alliance Avhich had placed the 
 Stewart family on the throne; "then God's will be done. 
 It came with a lass, and it will go with a lass." With 
 these words, ]-)rcsaging the extinction of his house, he made 
 a signal of adieu to his courtiers, spoke little more, but 
 turned his face to the wall, and died of the most melancholy 
 of all diseases, a broken heart. He was scarcely thirty-one 
 years old; in the very prime, therefore, of life. 
 
THE LADY OE THE LAKE 
 
 CANTO FIRST 
 
 Harp of the North! that mouldering lonp; hast hung 
 
 On the witch-ehn that shades Saint Fillan's spring, 
 And down the fitful breeze thy nimihers flung, 
 
 Till envious ivy did around thee climr, 
 5 Muffling with verdant ringlet every stiii.}.'-, — 
 
 O Minstrel Harp, still must thine aeccnts sleep? 
 Mid rustling leaves and fountains muriuuring, 
 
 Still must thy sweeter sounds their silenee keep, 
 Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep ? 
 
 10 Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, 
 
 Was thy voire mute amid the festal crowd, 
 When lay of ho|)eless love, or glory won, 
 
 Aroused the fearful, or subdued the jiroud. 
 At each according pause, was heard aloud 
 15 Thine ardent symphony sublime and high! 
 Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bow'd; 
 
 For still the burden of thy minstrelsy 
 Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's match- 
 less eye. 
 
 O wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand 
 20 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, 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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! 
 
 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; 
 5 But, when the sun his beacon red 
 Had kindled on Bcnvoirlich's head, 
 The deep-mouth'd bloodhound's hea\'v bay 
 Resounded up tiie rocky way, 
 And faint, from farther distance borne, 
 10 Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 
 
 II 
 
 As Chief, who hears his warder call, 
 "To arms! the foenien storm the wall," 
 The antler'd monarch of the waste 
 Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 
 
 6 But, ere his fleet career he took. 
 The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; 
 I.,ike crested leader proud and high, 
 Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky; 
 A moment gazed adown the dale, 
 
 10 A moment snuff'd the tainted gale, 
 A moment listen'd to the cry. 
 That tliicken'd as the chase drew nigh; 
 Then, as the headmost foes appear'd, 
 With one brave bound the copse he cleur'd, 
 
 15 And, stretching forward free and far, 
 Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 
 
CANTO FIRST 
 
 III 
 
 Yell'd on the view the opening pack; 
 Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back; 
 To many a mingled sound at once 
 The awaken'd mountain gave response. 
 5 A hundred dogs bay'd deep and strong, 
 Clatter'd a hundred steeds along, 
 Their peal the merry horns rung out, 
 A hundred voices join'd the shout; 
 With hark and whoop and wild halloo, 
 
 10 No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. 
 Far from the tumult fled the roe, 
 Close in her covert cower'd the doe, 
 The falcon, from her cairn on high, 
 Cast on the rout a wondering eye, 
 
 15 Till far beyond her piercing ken 
 The hurricane had swept the glen. 
 Faint, and more faint, its failing din 
 Return'd from cavern, cliff, and linn, 
 And silence settled, wide and still, 
 
 20 On the lone wood and mightv hill. 
 
 IV 
 
 Less loud the sounds of silvan war 
 Disturb'd the heights of Uam-Var, 
 And roused the cavern, where, 't is told 
 A giant made his den of old ; 
 
 6 For ere that steep ascent was won, 
 High in* his pathway hung the sun, 
 And many a gallant, stay'd perforce. 
 Was fain to breathe his faltering horse, 
 And of the trackers of the deer, 
 
 10 Scarce half the lessening pack was near; 
 So shrewdly on the mountain side, 
 Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 V 
 
 The noble stag was pausing now 
 Upon the mountain's southern brow, 
 Where broad extended, far Vjeneath, 
 The varied reahus of fair INIenteith. 
 
 5 With anxious eye he wander'd o'er 
 IMountain and meadow, moss and moor, 
 And ponder'd refuge from his toil, 
 By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 
 But nearer was the copsewood grey, 
 
 10 That waved and wept on Loch-Aehray, 
 And mingled with the pine-trees blue 
 ( )n the bold cliffs of Benvenue. 
 Fresh vigour with the hope rcturn'd. 
 With flying foot the heath he spurn'd, 
 
 K' Held westward with unwearied race, 
 And left behind the panting chase. 
 
 VI 
 
 'T were long to tell what steeds gave o'er, 
 As swept the hunt through Cambusmore: 
 What reins were tighten'd in despair, 
 When rose Benledi's ridge in air; 
 5 Who flagg'd upon Bochastle's heath, 
 W'ho shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith, — 
 For twice t hat day, from shore to shore , 
 The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. 
 Few were the stragglers, following far, 
 10 That reach'd 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, 
 Em boss' d with foam, and dark with soil, 
 
CANTO FIRST 
 
 5 While every gasp with sobs he drew, 
 The hibouring stag strainM full in view. 
 Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, 
 Unmatch'd for courage, breath, and speed, 
 Fast on his flying traces came, 
 
 1 And all but won that desperate game ; 
 
 For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, 
 Vindictive toil'd the bloodhounds stanch; 
 Nor nearer might tlie dogs attain. 
 Nor farther might the c|uarry strain. 
 
 15 Thus up the margin of the lake. 
 Between the precipice and brake. 
 O'er stock and rock their race they take. 
 
 VIII 
 
 The Hunter mark'd that mountain high, 
 The lone lake's western boundary, 
 And deem'd the stag must turn to bay, 
 Where that huge rampart barr'd the way; 
 5 Already glorying in the prize. 
 Measured his antlers with his eyes; 
 For the death-wound and death-halloo, 
 Muster'd his breath, his whinyard drew ; — 
 But thundering as he came prepared, 
 
 10 With ready arm and weapon bared, 
 The wily quarry shunn'd the shock, 
 And turn'd him from the opposing rock; 
 Then, dashing down a darksome glen. 
 Soon lost to hound and Himter's ken, 
 
 15 In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 
 His solitary refuge took. 
 There, while close couch'd, the thicket shed 
 Cold dews and wild-flowers on his head, 
 He heard the baffled dogs in vain 
 
 20 Rave through the hollow pass amain, 
 Chiding the rocks that yell'd again. 
 
6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 IX 
 
 Close on the hounds the Hunter came, 
 To cheer them on the vanish'd game; 
 But, stumbUng in the rugged dell, 
 The gallant horse exhausted fell. 
 5 The impatietift rider strove in vain 
 To rouse him with the spur and rein, 
 For the good steed, his labours o'er, 
 Stretch'd his stiff limbs, to rise no more; 
 Then, touch' d with pity and remorse, 
 
 10 He sorrow'd o'er the expiring horse. 
 "I little thought, when first thy rein 
 I slack'd upon the banks of Seine, 
 That Highland eagle e'er should feed 
 On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed! 
 
 15 Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, 
 That costs thv life, my gallant grev!" 
 
 X 
 
 Then through the dell his horn resounds, 
 
 From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 
 
 Back limp'd, with slow and crippled pace. 
 
 The sulky leaders of the chase { 
 5 Close to their master's side they press'd, 
 
 With drooping tail and humbled crest; 
 
 But still the dingle's hollow throat 
 
 Prolong'd the swelling bugle-note. 
 
 The owlets started from their dream, 
 10 The eagles answered with their scream, 
 
 Round and around the sounds were cast, 
 
 Till echo seem'd an answering blast; 
 
 And on the Hunter hied his way, 
 
 To join some comrades of the day; 
 15 Yet often paused, so strange the road. 
 
 So wondrous were the scenes it show'd. 
 
CANTO FIRST 
 
 XI 
 
 The western waves of ebbing day 
 Roll'd o'er the glen their level way; 
 Each purple peak, each flinty spire, 
 Was bathed in floods of living fire. 
 5 But not a setting beam could glow 
 Within the dark ravines below, 
 Where twined the path in shadow hid. 
 Round many a rocky pyramid. 
 Shooting abruptly from the dell 
 
 10 Its thunder-splinter'd pinnacle; 
 Round many an insulated mass, 
 The native bulwarks of the pass, 
 Huge as the. tower which builders vain 
 Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 
 
 15 The rocky summits, split and rent, 
 Form'd turret, dome, or battlement, 
 Or seem'd fantastically set 
 With cupola or minaret, 
 Wild crests as pagod ever deck'd, 
 
 20 Or mosque of Eastern architect. 
 
 Nor were these earth-born castles bare, 
 Nor lack'd they many a banner fair; 
 For, from their shiver'd brows display'tl. 
 Far o'er the unfathomable glade, 
 
 25 All twinkling with the dewdrops sheen, 
 The brier-rose fell in streamers green, 
 And creeping shrubs of thousand dyes. 
 Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. 
 
 XII 
 
 Boon nature scatter'd, free and wild. 
 Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. 
 Here eglantine embalm'd the air. 
 Hawthorn and hazel mingled there; 
 5 The primrose pale and violet flower, 
 Found in each cliff a narrow bower; 
 
8 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side, 
 Emblems of punishment and pride, 
 Group'd their dark hues with every stain 
 
 10 The weather-beaten crags retain. 
 
 With boughs that quaked at every breath. 
 Grey birch and aspen wept beneath; 
 Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 
 Cast anchor in the rifted rock; 
 
 15 And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 
 
 His shatter'd trunk, and frecpient flung, , 
 Where seem'd the cliffs to meet on high. 
 His bows athwart the narrow'd sky. 
 Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, 
 
 20 Where glist'ning streamers waved and danced 
 The wanderer's eye could barely view 
 The summer heaven's delicious blue; 
 So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 
 The scenery of a fairy dream. 
 
 XIII 
 
 Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep 
 A narrow inlet, still and deep. 
 Affording scarce such breadth of brim 
 As served the wild duck's brood to swim. 
 5 Lost for a space, through thickets veering, 
 But broader when again appearing, 
 Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 
 Could on the dark-blue mirror trace; 
 And farther as the Hunter stray'd, 
 
 10 Still broader sweep its channels made. 
 The shaggy mounds no longer stood, 
 Emerging from entangled wood. 
 But, wave-encircled, seem'd to float, 
 Like castle girdled with its moat ; 
 
 15 Yet broader floods extending still 
 Divide them from their parent hill, 
 Till each, retiring, claims to be 
 An islet in an inland sea. 
 
CANTO FIRST 
 
 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. 
 5 The broom's tough roots his ladder made, 
 
 The hazel saplings lent their aid; 
 
 And thus an airy point he won, 
 
 Where, gleaming with the setting sun, 
 
 One burnish'd sheet of living gold, 
 10 Loch Katrine lay beneath him roll'd. 
 
 In all her length far winding lay, 
 
 With promontory, creek, and biiy. 
 
 And islands that, empurpled bright, 
 
 Floated amid the livelier light, 
 15 And mountains, that like giants stand. 
 
 To sentinel enchanted land. 
 
 High on the south, huge Benvenue 
 
 Down to the lake in masses threw 
 
 Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurl'd, 
 20 The fragments of an earlier world; 
 
 A wildering forest feather'd o'er 
 
 His ruin'd sides and summit hoar, 
 
 While on the north, through middle air, 
 
 Beii-an heaved high his forehead bare. 
 
 XV 
 
 From the steep promontory gazed 
 The stranger, raptured and amazed. 
 And, "What a scene were here," he cried, 
 "For princely pomp, or churchman's pride! 
 5 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 grey ; 
 How blithely might the bugle-horn 
 10 Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn! 
 
10 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute 
 Chime, when the groves were still and mute! 
 And, when the midnight moon should lave 
 Her forehead in the silver wave, 
 
 15 How solemn on the ear would eome 
 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, 
 
 20 To drop a bead with every knell — 
 And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, 
 Should each bewilder'd stranger call 
 To friendly feast and lighted hall. 
 
 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; 
 5 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 s})ent, 
 
 10 Were but to-morrow's merriment: 
 But hosts may in these wilds abound, 
 Such as are better miss'd than found; 
 To meet with Plighland plunderers here 
 Were worse than loss ,of steed or deer. — 
 
 15 I am alone; — my bugle-strain 
 
 May call some straggler of the train; 
 
 Or, fall the worst that nuiy betide, 
 
 Ere now this falchion has been tried." , 
 
 xvn 
 
 But scarce again his horn he wound, 
 When lo ! forth starting at the sound, 
 
CANTO FIRST 11 
 
 From underneath an aged oak, 
 That slanted from the islet rock, 
 5 A damsel guider of its way, 
 A little skiff shot to the bay, 
 That round the promontory steep 
 Led its deep line in graceful sweep, 
 Eddying, in almost viewless wave, 
 
 10 The weeping willow twig to lave. 
 
 And kiss, with whispering sound and slow, 
 The beach of pebbles bright as snow. 
 The boat had touch'd this silver strand, 
 Just as the Hunter left his stand, 
 
 15 And stood conceal'd amid the brake. 
 To view this Lady of the Lake. 
 The maiden paused, as if again 
 She thought to catch the distant strain. 
 With head up-raised, and look intent, 
 
 20 And eye and ear attentive bent, 
 
 And locks flung back, and lips apart, 
 Like monument of Grecian art, 
 In listening mood, she seem'd to stand, 
 The guardian Naiad of the strand. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 
 A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 
 Of finer form, or lovelier face! 
 What though the sun, with ardent frown, 
 5 Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — 
 The sportive toil, which, short and light, 
 Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, 
 Served too in hastier swell to show 
 Short glimpses of a breast of^now: 
 10 What though no rule of courtly grace 
 
 To measured mood had train'd her pace, — 
 
 A foot more light, a step more true, 
 
 Ne'er from the heath-flower dash'd the dew; 
 
12 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 E'en the slight harebell raised its head, 
 15 Elastic from her airy tread: 
 
 What though upon her speech there hung 
 The accents of the mountain tongue, — 
 Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, 
 The listener held his breath to hear! 
 
 XIX 
 
 A chieftain's daughter seem'd the maid; 
 Her satin snood, her silken plaid, 
 Her golden brooch, such birth betray'd 
 And seldom was a snood amid 
 5 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, 
 INIantled a plaid with modest care, 
 
 10 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 
 
 15 Gives back the shaggy banks more true, 
 Than every free-born glance confess'd 
 The guileless movements of her breast; 
 Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 
 Or woe or pity claim' d a sigh, 
 
 20 Or filial love was glowing there. 
 Or meek devotion pour'd a prayer. 
 Or tale of injury call'd forth 
 The indignant spirit of the North. 
 One only passion unreveal'd, 
 
 25 With maiden pride the maid conceal'd. 
 Yet not less purely felt the flame ; — 
 O! need I tell that passion's name? 
 
CANTO FIRST 13 
 
 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. 
 6 Awhile she paused, no answer came; — 
 
 "Malcolm, was thine the blast?" the name 
 
 Less resolutely utter'd fell, 
 
 The echoes could not catch the swell. 
 
 "A stranger I," the Huntsman said, 
 10 Advancing from the hazel shade. 
 
 The maid, alarm'd, with hasty oar 
 
 Push'd her light shallop from the shore, 
 
 And when a space was gain'd between, 
 
 Closer she drew her bosom's screen;— 
 15 (So forth the startled swan Avould 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, 
 20 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 ; 
 
 5 Forward and frolic glee was there, 
 The will to do, the soul to dare, 
 The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 
 Of hasty love, or headlong ire. 
 His limlDs were cast in manly mould, 
 
 10 For hardy sports or contest bold; 
 And though in peaceful garb array'd, 
 And weaponless, except his blade, 
 
14 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 His stately mien as well implied 
 A high-born heart, a martial pride, 
 
 15 As if a Baron's crest he wore, 
 
 And sheathed in armour trode the shore. 
 Slighting the petty need he show'd, 
 He told of his benighted road ; 
 His ready speech flow'd fair and free, 
 20 In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; 
 
 Yet seem'd that tone, and gesture bland, 
 Less used to sue than to command y 
 
 xxn 
 
 Awhile the maid the stranger eyed. 
 And, reassured, at length replied. 
 That Highland halls were open still 
 To wilder'd wanderers of the hill. 
 5 "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 
 
 10 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; 
 
 15 "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, 
 
 -'0 Have ever drawn your mountain air, 
 Till on this lake's romantic strand, 
 I found a fay in fairy land!" — 
 
CANTO FIRST 15 
 
 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; 
 6 But yet, as far as yesternight, 
 
 Old Allan-bane foretold your plight, — 
 
 A grey-haired sire, whose eye intent 
 
 Was on the vision' d future bent. 
 
 He saw your steed, a dappled grey, 
 10 Lie dead beneath the birchen way; 
 
 Painted exact your form and mien, 
 
 Your hunting suit of Lincoln green, 
 
 That tassell'd horn so gaily gilt, 
 
 That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, 
 15 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, 
 20 And deem'd it was my father's horn. 
 
 Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne." 
 
 XXIV 
 
 The stranger smiled: — "Since to your home 
 A destined errant knight I come, 
 Announced by prophet sooth and old, 
 Doom'd, doubtless, for achievement bold, 
 5 I'll lightly front each high emprise. 
 For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 
 Permit me, first, the task to guide 
 Your fairy frigate o'er the tide." 
 The maid, with smile suppress'd and sly, 
 10 The toil unwonted saw him try; 
 For seldom, sure, if e'er before. 
 His noble hanil had grasped an oar: 
 Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, 
 And o'er the lake the shallop flew ; 
 
IG THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 15 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, 
 20 And moor their shallop on the beach. 
 
 XXV 
 
 The stranger view'd the shore aroimd ; 
 'Twas all so close with copsewood bound, 
 Nor track nor pathway might declare 
 That human foot frequented there, 
 
 5 Until the mountain-maiden show'd 
 A clambering unsuspected road. 
 
 That winded through the tangled screen. 
 And open'd on a narrow green. 
 Where weeping birch and willow round 
 10 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 structin-e and device; 
 
 Of such materials, as around 
 
 The workman's hand had readiest found. 
 
 6 Lopp'd of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, 
 And by the hatchet rudely squared. 
 
 To give the walls their destined height. 
 The sturdy oak and ash unite; 
 While moss and clay and leaves combined 
 10 To fence each crevice from the wind. 
 The lighter pine-trees overhead, 
 Their slender length for rafters spread, 
 And wither'd heath and rushes dry 
 Supplied a russet canopy. 
 
CANTO FIRST 17 
 
 15 Due westward, fronting to the green, 
 
 A rural portico was seen, 
 
 Aloft on native pillars borne, 
 
 Of mountain fir with bark unshorn. 
 
 Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine 
 20 The ivy and Idtean vine, 
 
 The clematis, the favour'd flower 
 
 Which boasts the name of virgin-bower 
 
 And every hardy plant could bear 
 
 Loch Katrine's keen and searching air 
 25 An instant in this porch she staid. 
 
 And gaily to the stranger said, 
 "On heaven and on thy lady call, 
 
 And enter the enchanted hall!" 
 
 XXVII 
 
 "My hope, my heaven, my trust must be. 
 
 My gentle guide, in following thee." — 
 
 He cross'd the threshold— and a clang 
 
 Of angry steel that instant rang. 
 5 To his bold brow his spirit rush'd, 
 
 But soon for vain alarm he blush'd, 
 
 When on the floor he saw display'd, 
 
 Cause of the din, a naked blade 
 
 Dropp'd from the sheath, that careless flung 
 10 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, 
 15 And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, 
 
 With the tusk'd trophies of the l)oar. 
 
 Here grins the wolf as when he died, 
 
 And there the wild-cat's brindled hide 
 
 The frontlet of the elk adorns, 
 20 Or mantles o'er the bison's horns; 
 
 Pennons and flags defaced and stain'd. 
 
 That blackening streaks of blood retain'd, 
 
18 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, 
 With otter's fur and seal's unite, 
 25 In rude and uncouth tapestry all, 
 To garnish forth the silvan hall. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 The wondering stranger round him gazed, 
 And next the fallen weapon raised : — 
 Few were the arms whose sinewy strengtli, 
 Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. 
 5 And as the brand he poised and sway'd, 
 "I never knew but one," he said, 
 "Whose stalwart arm might l^rook to wield 
 A blade like this in battle-field." 
 She sigh'd, then smiled and took the word ; 
 
 10 "You see the guardian champion's sword: 
 As light it trembles in his hand, 
 As in my grasp a hazel wand ; 
 My sire's tall form might grace the part 
 Of Ferragus, or Ascabart ; 
 
 15 But in the absent giant's hold 
 Are women now, and menials old." 
 
 XXIX 
 
 The mistress of the mansion came, 
 Mature of age, a graceful dame; 
 Whose easy step and stately port 
 Had Avell become a princely court, 
 5 To whom, though more than kindred knew, 
 Young Ellen gave a mother's due. 
 Meet welcome to her guest she made, 
 And every courteous rite was paid. 
 That hospitality could claim, 
 10 Though all unask'd his birth and name. 
 Such then the reverence to a guest, 
 That fellest foe might join the feast, 
 And from his deadliest foeman's door 
 Unquestion'd turn, the banquet o'er. 
 
CANTO FIRST 19 
 
 15 At length his rank the stranger names, 
 "The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz- James; 
 
 Lord of a barren heritage, 
 
 Which his brave sires, from age to age, 
 
 By their good swords liad held with toil ; 
 20 His sire had fallen in such turmoil, 
 
 And he, God wot, was forced to stand 
 
 Oft for his right with blade in hand. 
 
 This morning, with Lord Moray's train 
 
 He chased a stalwart stag in vain, 
 25 Outstripp'd his comrades, miss'd the deer, 
 
 Lost his good steed, and wander'd here." 
 
 XXX 
 
 Fain would the Knight in turn require 
 The name and state of Ellen's sire. 
 Well show'd the elder lady's mien, 
 That courts and cities she had seen ; 
 5 Ellen, though more her looks display'd 
 The simple grace of silvan maid. 
 In speech and gesture, form and face, 
 Show'd she was come of gentle race. 
 'Twere strange in ruder rank to find 
 
 10 Such looks, such manners, and such mind. 
 Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, 
 Dame Margaret heard with silence grave; 
 Or Ellen, innocently gay, 
 Turn'd all inquiry light away: — 
 
 15 "Weird women we! by dale and down 
 We dwell, afar from tower and town. 
 We stem the flood, we ride the blast, 
 On wandering knights our spells we cast; 
 While viewless minstrels touch the string, 
 
 20 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing." 
 She sung , and still a harp unseen 
 Fill'd up the symphony between. 
 
20 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXXI 
 
 "Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, 
 
 Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking; 
 Dream of battled fields no more, 
 Days of danger, nights of waking. 
 5 In our isle's enchanted hall, 
 
 Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, 
 Fairy strains of music fall, 
 
 Every sense in slumber dewing. 
 Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, 
 10 Dream of fighting fields no more: 
 
 Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
 Morn of toil, nor night of Avaking. 
 
 "No rude sound shall reach thine ear, 
 
 Armour's clang, or war-steed champing, 
 15 Trump nor pibroch summon here 
 
 Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. 
 Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 
 
 At the daybreak f)om the fallow. 
 And the bittern sound his drum, 
 20 Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
 Ruder sounds shall none be near. 
 Guards nor warders challenge here, 
 Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing. 
 Shouting clans or squadrons stamping." 
 
 XXXII 
 
 She paused — then, blushing, led the lay 
 To grace the stranger of the day. 
 Her mellow notes awhile prolong 
 The cadence of a flowing song, 
 5 Till to her lips in measured frame 
 The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 
 
CANTO FIRST 2] 
 
 ^nng — (SnnttituflJ 
 
 "Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, 
 While our slumbrous spells assail ye, 
 Dream not, with the rising sun, 
 10 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. 
 15 Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, 
 Think not of the rising svm. 
 For at dawning to assail ye. 
 Here no bugles sound reveille." 
 
 xxxni 
 
 The hall was clear' d — the stranger's l)ed 
 
 Was there of mountain heather spread, 
 
 W'here oft a hundred guests had lain, 
 
 And dream'd their forest sports again. 
 5 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 
 10 Of varied perils, pains, and woes: 
 
 His steed now flounders in the brake, 
 
 Now sinks his barge upon the lake; 
 
 Now leader of a broken host. 
 
 His standard falls, his honour's lost. 
 15 Then, — from my couch may heavenly might 
 
 Chase that worst phantom of the night! — 
 
 Again return' d the scenes of youth, 
 
 Of confident undoubting truth ; 
 
 Again his soul he interchanged 
 20 With friends whose hearts were long estranged. 
 
 They come, in dim procession led, 
 
 The cold, the faithless, and the dead; 
 
22 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 As warm each hand, each brow as gay, 
 As if they parted yesterday. 
 25 And doubt distracts him at the view, — 
 O were his senses false or true ? 
 Dream'd he of death, or broken vow, 
 Or is it all a vision now ? 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 At length, with Ellen in a grove 
 He seem'd to walk, and speak of love; 
 She listened with a blush and sigh, ' 
 His suit was warm, his hopes were high. 
 5 He sought her yielded hand to clasp, 
 And a cold gauntlet met his grasp: 
 The phantom's sex was changed and gone, 
 Upon its head a helmet shone; 
 Slowly enlarged to giant size, 
 
 10 With darken'd cheek and threatening eyes, 
 The grisly visage, stern and hoar, 
 To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 
 He woke, and, panting with aft'right, 
 Recall'd the vision of the night. 
 
 15 The hearth's decaying brands were red. 
 And deep and dusky lustre shed, 
 Half showing, half concealing, all 
 The uncouth trophies of the hall. 
 Mid those the stranger fixed his eye 
 
 20 Where that huge falchion hung on high. 
 
 And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, 
 Rush'd, chasing countless thoughts along. 
 Until, the giddy whirl to cure, 
 He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 The wild-rose, eglantine, and broom, 
 Wasted around their rich perfume; 
 The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm. 
 The aspens slept beneath the calm ; 
 
CANTO FIRST 23 
 
 5 The silver light, with quivering glance, 
 
 Play'd on the water's still expanse, — 
 
 Wild were the heart whose passion's sway 
 
 Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 
 
 He felt its calm, that warrior guest, 
 10 While thus he communed with his breast: — 
 
 " Wliy 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 ? 
 15 Can I not view a Highland brand, 
 
 But it must match the Douglas hand ? 
 
 Can I not frame a fever'd dream. 
 
 But still the Douglas is the theme? 
 
 I'll dream no more — by manly mind i 
 20 Not even in sleep is will resign' d. 
 
 My miilnight orisons said o'er, 
 
 I'll turn to rest, and dream no more." 
 
 His midniglit orisons he told, 
 
 A prayer with every bead of gold, 
 25 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 Benvenue. 
 
THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 CANTO SECOND 
 
 ©Ijr Salanb 
 
 At morn the black-cock trims his jetiy wing, 
 
 'T is morning prompts the hnnet's bUthest lay, 
 All Nature's children feel the matin spring 
 
 Of life reviving, with reviving day; 
 5 And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 
 
 Wafting the stranger on his way again, 
 Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel grey, 
 
 And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, 
 Mix'd with the sounding harp, O white-hair'd Allan 
 bane ! 
 
 II 
 
 "Not faster yonder rowers' might 
 Flings from their oars the spray, 
 Not faster yonder rippling bright. 
 That tracks the shallop's course in light, 
 5 Melts in the lake away, 
 Than men from memory erase 
 The benefits of former days ; 
 Then, stranger, go! good speed the while. 
 Nor think again of the lonely isle. 
 
 10 "High place to thee in royal court. 
 High place in battle line, 
 Good hawk and hound for silvan spart, 
 Where beauty sees the brave resort, 
 The honour'd meed be thine! 
 15 True be thy sword, thy friend sincere. 
 Thy lady constant, kind, and dear. 
 
CANTO FIRST 23 
 
 5 The silver light, with quivering glance, 
 
 Play'd on the water's still expanse, — 
 
 Wild were the heart whose passion's sway 
 
 Could rage beneath the sober ray! 
 
 He felt its calm, that warrior guest, 
 10 While thus he communed with his breast: — 
 
 "Why is it, at each turn I trace 
 
 Some memory of that exiled race ? 
 
 Can I not mountain-maiden spy. 
 
 But she must bear the Douglas eye? 
 15 Can I not view a Highland brand, 
 
 But it must match the Douglas hand ? 
 
 Can I not frame a fever'd dream. 
 
 But still the Douglas is the theme? 
 
 I'll dream no more — by manly mind 
 20 Not even in sleep is will resign'd. 
 
 My midnight orisons said o'er, 
 
 I'll turn to rest, and dream no more." 
 
 His midnight orisons he told, 
 
 A prayer with every bead of gold, 
 25 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. 
 
24 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 CANTO SECOND 
 
 QIljp ^Bimh 
 
 At morn the black-cock trims his jetiy wing, 
 
 'T is morning prompts the hnnet's bUthest lay, 
 All Nature's children feel the matin spring 
 
 Of life reviving, with reviving day; 
 5 And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 
 
 Wafting the stranger on his way again. 
 Morn's genial influence, roused a minstrel grey, 
 
 And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, 
 Mix'd with the sounding harp, O white-hair'd Allan 
 bane! 
 
 II 
 
 "Not faster yonder rowers' might 
 Flings from their oars the spray, 
 Not faster yonder rippling bright. 
 That tracks the shallop's course in light, 
 5 Melts in the lake away. 
 Than men from memory erase 
 The benefits of former clays ; 
 Then, stranger, go! good speed the while, 
 Nor think again of the lonely isle. 
 
 10 "High place to thee in royal court. 
 High place in battle line. 
 Good hawk and hound for silvan sport. 
 Where beauty sees the brave resort, 
 The honour'd meed be thine! 
 15 True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, 
 Thy lady constant, kind, and dear. 
 
CANTO SECOND 25 
 
 ^OttQ — (Ennttttupti 
 
 And lost in love, and friendship's smile 
 Be memory of the lonely isle. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "But if beneath yon southern sky 
 
 A plaided stranger roam, 
 Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh. 
 And sunken check and heavy eye, 
 5 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. 
 
 10 "Or if on life's uncertain main 
 Mishap shall mar thy sail; 
 If faithful, wise, and brave in vain, 
 Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 
 Beneath the fickle gale ; 
 15 Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, 
 On thankless courts, or friends estranged, 
 But come where kindred worth shall smile. 
 To greet thee in the lonely isle." 
 
 IV 
 
 As died the sounds upon the tide. 
 The shallop reach'd the mainland side, 
 And ere his onward way he took, 
 The stranger cast a lingering look, 
 5 Where easily his eye might reach 
 The Harper on the islet beach. 
 Reclined against a blighted tree, 
 As wasted, grey, and worn as he. 
 To minstel meditation given, 
 10 His reverend brow was raised to heaven, 
 As from the rising sun to claim 
 A sparkle of inspiring flame. 
 
26 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 His hand, reclined upon the Mire, 
 Seem'd watching the awakening fire; 
 
 15 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, 
 
 20 In the last sound his harp had sped. 
 
 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, 
 5 While her vex'd spaniel, from the beach, 
 Bay'd at the prize beyond his reach ? 
 Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows. 
 Why deepen 'd on her cheek the rose ? — 
 Forgive, forgive. Fidelity! 
 loPerchance 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, 
 15 Show me the fair would scorn to sjjy, 
 And prize such conquest of her eye! 
 
 VI 
 
 Wliile 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; 
 5 And after, oft the knight would say, 
 That not when prize of festal day 
 Was dealt him by the brightest fair. 
 Who e'er wore jewel in her hair. 
 
CANTO SECOND 25 
 
 And lost in love, and friendship's smile 
 Be memory of the lonely isle. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "But if beneath yon southern sky 
 
 A plaided stranger roam, 
 Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, 
 And sunken cheek and heavy eye, 
 5 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. 
 
 10 "Or if on life's uncertain main 
 Mishap shall mar thy sail; 
 If faithful, wise, and brave in vain, 
 Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 
 Beneath the fickle gale ; 
 15 Waste not a sigh on fortime changed, 
 On thankless courts, or friends estranged, 
 But come where kindred worth shall smile, 
 To greet thee in the lonely isle." 
 
 IV 
 
 As died the sounds upon the tide. 
 The shallop reach'd the mainland side, 
 And ere his onward way he took, 
 The stranger cast a lingering look, 
 5 Where easily his eye might reach 
 The Harper on the islet beach. 
 Reclined against a blighted tree. 
 As wasted, grey, and woni as he. 
 To minstel meditation given, 
 10 His reverend brow was raised to heaven, 
 As from the rising sun to claim 
 A sparkle of inspiring flame. 
 
26 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 His hand, reclined upon the wire, 
 Seem'd watching the awakening fire; 
 
 15 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 hfe itself were fled, 
 
 20 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, 
 5 While her vex'd spaniel, from the beach, 
 Bay'd at the prize beyond his reach ? 
 Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows, 
 Why deepen 'd on her cheek the rose? — 
 Forgive, forgive, Fidelity! 
 loPerchance 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, 
 15 Show me the fair would scorn to spy. 
 And prize such conquest of her eye I 
 
 VI 
 
 Wliile yet he loiter'd on the spot, 
 It seem'd as Ellen mark'd him not; 
 But wdien he turn'il him to the glade, 
 One courteous ])arting sign she made; 
 5 And after, oft the knight would say, 
 That not when prize of festal day 
 Was dealt him by the brightest fair, 
 Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, 
 
CANTO SECOND 27 
 
 So liigWy did his bosom swell, 
 10 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 ; 
 lo But when his stately form was hid. 
 
 The guardian in her bosom chid — 
 
 "Thy jNIalcolm! vain and selfish maid!'' 
 
 'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said, — 
 
 "Not so had Malcolm idly hung 
 20 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, — 
 25 "Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! 
 
 I'll give thy harp heroic theme. 
 
 And warm thee with a nol)le name; 
 
 Pour forth the glory of the Gneme!" 
 
 Scarce from her lip the word had rush'd, 
 30 When deep the conscious maiden blush'd; 
 
 For of his clan, in hall and bower, 
 
 Young Malcolm Grseme 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. 
 5 "Vainly thoubid'st, O noble maid," 
 Clasping his wither'd hands, he said, 
 "Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain, 
 Though all unwont to bid in vain. 
 Alas ! than mine a mightier hand 
 10 Has tuned my harp, my strings has spann'd ! 
 I touch the chords of joy, but low 
 And mournful answer notes of woe ; 
 
28 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 And the proud march, wlilch victors tread, 
 Sinks in the waihng for the dead. 
 
 15 O well for me, if mine alone 
 That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! 
 If, as my tuneful fathers said. 
 This harp, which erst Saint Modan sway'd, 
 Can thus its master's fate foretell, 
 
 20 Then welcome be the minstrel's knell! 
 
 VIII 
 
 "But ah! dear lady, thus it sigh'd 
 
 The eve thy sainted mother died ; 
 
 And suchthesoundswhich, while Istrove 
 
 To wake a lay of war or love, 
 5 Came marring all the festal mirth, 
 
 Appalling me wdio gave them birtli, 
 
 And, disobedient to my call, 
 
 Wail'd loud through Bothwell's banner'd hall. 
 
 Ere Douglasses, to ruin driven, 
 10 Were exiled from their native heaven. — 
 
 Oh! if yet Avorse mishap and woe, 
 
 My master's house must undergo, 
 
 Or aught but weal to Ellen fair, 
 
 Brood in these accents of despair, 
 15 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, 
 20 Thy master cast him down and die!" 
 
 IX 
 
 Soothing she answer'd him: — "Assuage, 
 Mine honour'd friend, the fears of age; 
 All melodies to thee are known. 
 That harp has rung, or pipe has blown, 
 
CANTO SECOND 27 
 
 So liigWy did his bosom swell, 
 10 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 ; 
 15 But when his stately form was hid. 
 
 The guardian in her bosom chid — 
 
 "Thy ISIalcolm! vain and selfish maid!" 
 
 'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said, — 
 
 "Not so had Malcolm idly hung 
 20 (3n 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 INIinstrel by her side,^ 
 25 "Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! 
 
 I'll give thy harp heroic theme. 
 
 And warm thee with a noble name ; 
 
 Pour forth the glory of the Graeme!" 
 
 Scarce from her lip the word had rush'd, 
 30 When deep the conscious maiden blush'd; 
 
 For of his clan, in hall and bower, 
 
 Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower. 
 
 VII 
 
 The Minstrel waked his harp — three times 
 Arose the well-known martial chimes, 
 And thrice their high heroic pride 
 In melancholy murmurs died. 
 5 "Vainly thou bid'st, O noble maid," 
 Clasping his wither'd hands, he said, 
 "Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain. 
 Though all unwont to bid in vain. 
 Alas! than mine a mightier hand 
 10 Has tuned my harp, my strings has spann'd! 
 I touch the chords of joy, but low 
 And mournful answer notes of woe ; 
 
28 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 And the proud march, which victors tread, 
 
 Sinks in the waihno; for the dead. 
 15 O well for me, if mine alone 
 
 That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! 
 
 If, as ray tuneful fathers said, 
 
 This harp, which erst Saint INlodan sway'd, 
 
 Can thus its master's fate foretell, 
 20 Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ! 
 
 VIII 
 
 "But ah! dear lady, thus it sigh'd 
 
 The eve thy sainted mother died ; 
 
 And such the sounds which, while I strove 
 
 To wake a lay of war or love, 
 5 Came marring all the festal mirth, 
 
 Appalling me who gave them birth. 
 
 And, disobedient to my call, 
 
 Wail'd loud through Bothwell's banner'd hall, 
 
 Ere Douglasses, to ruin driven, 
 10 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 in these accents of despair, 
 15 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, 
 20 Thv master cast him down and die!" 
 
 IX 
 
 Soothing she answer'd him: — "Assuage, 
 Mine honour'd friend, the fears of age; 
 All melodies to thee are known. 
 That harp has rung, or pipe has blown, 
 
CANTO SECOND 29 
 
 5 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, 
 10 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, 
 
 Kesigning lordship, lands, and state, 
 15 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, 
 20 Pluck'd a blue hare-bell from the ground, — 
 
 "Forme, whose memory scarce conveys 
 
 An image of more splendid days, 
 
 This little flower, that loves the lea, 
 
 May well my simple emblem be ; 
 25 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." 
 30 Then playfully the chaplet wild 
 
 She wreath'd in her dark locks, and smiled. 
 
 X 
 
 Her smile, her speech, with winning sway. 
 Wiled the old harper's mood away. 
 With such a look as hermits throw. 
 When angels stoop to soothe their woe, 
 He gazed, till fond regret and pride 
 Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied : 
 "Loveliest and best! thou little know'st 
 The rank, the honours, thou hast lost ! 
 
30 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 O might I live to see thee grace, 
 10 In Scotland's court, thy birth- right place, 
 To see ray favourite's step advance, 
 The lightest in the courtly dance, 
 The cause of every gallant's sigh. 
 And leading star of every eve, 
 15 And theme of every minstrel's art, 
 The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!" 
 
 XI 
 
 "Fair dreams are these," the maiden cried, 
 Light was her accent, yet she sigh'd ; 
 "Yet is this mossy rock to me 
 Worth splendid chair and canopy; 
 5 Nor would my footstep spring more gay 
 In courtly dance than blithe strathspey. 
 Nor half so pleased mine ear incline 
 To royal minstrel's lay as thine. 
 And then for suitors proud and high, 
 
 10 To bend before my conquering eye, — 
 Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt say, 
 That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 
 The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride, 
 The terror of Loch-Lomond's side, 
 
 15 Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 
 A Lennox foray — for a day." — 
 
 XII 
 
 The ancient bard his glee re])ress'd : 
 "III hast thou chosen theme for jest! 
 For who, through all this western wild. 
 Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled ! 
 5 In Holy-Rood a knight he slew; 
 I saw, when back the dirk he drew. 
 Courtiers give place before the stride 
 Of the undaunted homicide ; 
 
CANTO SECOND 29 
 
 5 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, 
 10 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, 
 15 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, 
 20 Pluck'd a blue hare-bell from the ground, — 
 
 "For me, whose memory scarce conveys 
 
 An image of more splendid days, 
 
 This little flower, that loves the lea. 
 
 May well my simple emblem be ; 
 25 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." 
 30 Then playfully the chaplet wild 
 
 She wreath'd in her dark locks, and smiled. 
 
 X 
 
 Her smile, her speech, with winning sway. 
 Wiled the old harper's mood away. 
 With such a look as hermits throw. 
 When angels stoop to soothe their woe, 
 5 He gazed, till fond regret and pride 
 Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied : 
 "Loveliest and best! thou little know'st 
 The rank, the honours, thou hast lost! 
 
30 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 O might I live to see thee grace, 
 10 In Scotland's court, thy birth- right place, 
 To see my favourite's step advance. 
 The lightest in the courtly dance. 
 The cause of every gallant's sigh, 
 And leading star of every eve, 
 15 And theme of every minstrel's art, 
 The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!" 
 
 XI 
 
 "Fair dreams are these," the maiden cried, 
 Light was her accent, yet she sigh'd ; 
 "Yet is this mossy rock to me 
 Worth splendid chair and canopy; 
 5 Nor would my footstep spring more gay 
 In courtly dance than blithe strathspey. 
 Nor half so pleased mine ear incline 
 To royal minstrel's lay as thine. 
 And then for suitors proud and high, 
 
 10 To bend before my conquering eye, — 
 Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt say, 
 That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 
 The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride, 
 The terror of Loch-Lomond's side, 
 
 15 Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 
 A Lennox foray — for a day." — 
 
 XII 
 
 The ancient bard his glee repress'd : 
 "111 hast thou chosen theme for jest! 
 For who, through all this western wild, 
 Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled I 
 5 In Holy-Rood a knight he slew; 
 I saw, when back the dirk he drew. 
 Courtiers give place before the stride 
 Of the undaunted homicide ; 
 
CANTO SECOND 31 
 
 And since, though outlaw'd, hath his hand 
 10 p'ull 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, 
 15 Even the rude refuge we have here ? 
 
 Alas, this wild marauding Chief 
 
 Alone might hazard our relief, 
 
 And now th}' maiden charms expand, 
 
 Looks for his guerdon in thy hand ; 
 20 Full soon may dispensation sought, » 
 
 To back his suit, from Rome be brought. 
 
 Then, though an exile on the hill, 
 
 Thy father, as the Douglas, still 
 
 Be held in reverence and fear; 
 25 And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear, 
 
 That thou might'st guide with silken thread, 
 
 Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread ; 
 
 "^'et, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! 
 
 Thy hand is on a lion's mane." — 
 
 XIII 
 
 "Minstrel," the maid replied, and high 
 
 Her father's soul glanced from her eye, 
 
 "INIy debts to Rotlerick's house I know: 
 
 All that a mother could bestow, 
 5 To Lady Margaret's care I owe. 
 
 Since first an orphan in the wild 
 
 She sorrow 'd o'er her sister's child; 
 
 To her brave chieftain son, from ire 
 
 Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, 
 10 A deeper, holier debt is owed; 
 
 And, could I pay it with my blood, 
 
 Allan! Sir Roderick should command 
 
 INIy blood, my life, — but not my hand. 
 
 Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell 
 15 A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; 
 
32 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Rather through realms beyond tlie sea, 
 Seeking the world's cold charity, 
 Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, 
 And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, 
 20 An outcast pilgrim will she rove. 
 Than wed the man she cannot love. 
 
 XIV 
 
 "Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses grey- 
 That pleading look, what can it say 
 But what I own ? — I grant him brave. 
 But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave; 
 5 And generous — save vindictive mood. 
 Or jealous transport, chafe his blood: 
 I grant him true to friendly band. 
 As his claymore is to his hand ; 
 But O ! that very blade of steel 
 
 10 INIore 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 lyowland leave behind, 
 
 15 Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, 
 A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 
 The hand that for my father fought, 
 I honour, as, his daughter ought; 
 But can I clasp it reeking red, 
 
 20 From peasants slaughter'd in their shed ? 
 No! wildly while his virtues gleam, 
 They make his passions darker seem, 
 And flash along his spirit high, 
 like lightning o'er the midnight sky 
 
 25 AVhile yet a child, — and children know. 
 Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — 
 I shudder'd at his brow of gloom, 
 His shadowy plaid, and sable plume; 
 A maiden grown, I ill could bear 
 
 30 His haughty mien and lordly air: 
 
CANTO SECOND 31 
 
 And since, though outlaw'd, hath his hand 
 10 Full sternly kept his mountain land. 
 
 Who else dared give — ah ! woe the day, 
 
 That I such hated trutii should say — 
 
 The Douglas, hke a stricken deer, 
 
 Disown'd by every noble peer, 
 15 Even the rude refuge we have here ? 
 
 Alas, this wild marauding Chief 
 
 Alone might hazard our relief, 
 
 x\nd now thy maiden charms expand. 
 
 Looks for his guerdon in thy hand ; 
 20 p^ull soon may dispensation sought, 
 
 To back his suit, from Rome be brought. 
 
 Then, though an exile on the hill, 
 
 Thy father, as the Douglas, still 
 
 Be held in reverence and fear; 
 25 And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear. 
 
 That thou might'st guide with silken thread. 
 
 Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread; 
 
 Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! 
 
 Thy hand is on a lion's mane." — 
 
 XIII 
 
 "Minstrel," the maid replied, and high 
 
 Her father's soul glanced from her eye, 
 
 "My debts to Roderick's house I know : 
 
 All that a mother could bestow, 
 5 To Lady Margaret's care I owe. 
 
 Since first an orphan in the wild 
 
 She sorrow 'd o'er her sister's child; ■ 
 
 To her brave chieftain son, from ire 
 
 Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, 
 10 A deeper, holier debt is owed; 
 
 And, could I pay it with my blood, 
 
 Allan ! Sir Roderick should command 
 
 ]My blood, my life, — but not my hand. 
 
 Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell 
 15 A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; 
 
32 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Rather through realms beyond the sea, 
 Seeking the world's cold charity, 
 Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, 
 And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, 
 20 An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 
 Than wed the man she cannot love. 
 
 XIV 
 
 "Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses grey- 
 That pleading look, what can it say 
 But what 1 own ? — I grant him brave, 
 But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave; 
 5 And generous — save vindictive mood. 
 Or jealous transport, chafe his blood: 
 I grant him true to friendly band, 
 As his claymore is to his hand; 
 But (3 ! that very blade of steel 
 
 10 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, 
 
 15 Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, 
 A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 
 The hand that for my father fought, 
 I honour, as his daughter ought ; 
 But can I clasp it reeking red, 
 
 20 From peasants slaughter'd in their shed ? 
 No! wildly while his virtues gleam, 
 They make his passions darker seem, 
 And flash along his spirit high. 
 Like lightning o'er the midnight sky 
 
 25 AVhile yet a child, — and children know. 
 Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — 
 I shudder'd at his brow of gloom, 
 His shadowy plaid, and sable plume; 
 A maiden grown, I ill could bear 
 
 30 His haughty mien and lordly air: 
 
CANTO SECOND 33 
 
 But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim, 
 In serious mood, to Roderick's name, 
 I thrill with anguish! or, if e'er 
 A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 
 ;« To change such odious theme were best, — 
 What think'st thou of our sti-anger 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, 
 5 What time he leagued, no longer foes, 
 His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, 
 Did, self-unscabbariled, foreshow 
 The footstep of a secret foe. 
 If courtly spy hath harbour'd here, 
 
 10 What may we for the Douglas fear ? 
 What for this island, deem'd of old 
 Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold ? 
 If neither spy nor foe, 1 pray 
 What yet may jealous Roderick say? 
 
 15 — Nay, wave not thy disdainful head, 
 Bethink thee of the discord dread. 
 That kindled when at Beltane game 
 Thou ledst the dance with JNIalccrlm Grpeme; 
 Still, though thy sire the peace renew'd, 
 
 20 Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud; 
 Beware! — But hark, what sounds are these? 
 My dull ears catch no faltering breeze. 
 No weeping birch nor aspens wake, 
 Nor breath is dimpling in the lake, 
 
 25 Still is the canna's hoary beard, 
 Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 
 And hark again! some pipe of war 
 Sends the bold pibroch from afar." 
 
34 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XVI 
 
 Far up the lengthen'd lake were spied 
 Four darkening specks upon the tide, 
 That, slow enlarging on the view, 
 Four mann'd and masted barges grew, 
 6 And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, 
 Steer'd full upon the lonely isle; 
 The point of Brianchoil they pass'd. 
 And, to the windward as they cast, 
 Against the sun they gave to shine 
 
 10 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: 
 
 15 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, 
 
 20 And mark the gaudy streamers flow 
 From their loud chanters down, and sweep 
 The furrow'd bosom of the deep, 
 As, rushing through the lake amain, 
 They plied the ancient Highland strain 
 
 XVII 
 
 Ever, as on they bore, more loud 
 And louder rung the pibroch proud. 
 At first the sound, by distance tame, 
 Mellow'd along the waters came, 
 5 And, lingering long by cape and bay, 
 Wail'd every harsher note away. 
 Then bursting bolder on the ear, 
 The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear; 
 Those thrilling sounds, that call the might 
 10 Of Old Clan-Alpine to the fight. 
 
CANTO SECOND . 33 
 
 But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim, 
 In serious mood, to Roderick's name, 
 I thrill with anguish! or, if e'er 
 A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 
 .'« To change such odious theme were best, — 
 What thiuk'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, 
 5 What time he leagued, no longer foes, 
 Ilis Border sj)ears with Hotspur's bows, 
 Did, self-unscalibarded, foreshow 
 The footstep of a secret foe. 
 If courtly spy hath harbovu''d here, 
 
 10 What may we for the Douglas fear ? 
 W^hat for this island, deem'd of old 
 Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold ? 
 If neither spy nor foe, I pray 
 What yet may jealous Roderick say? 
 
 15 — Nay, wave not thy disdainful head. 
 Bethink thee of the discord dread, 
 That kindled when at Beltane game 
 Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Grpeme; 
 Still, though thy sire the peace renew'd, 
 
 20 Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud; 
 Beware! — But hark, what sounds are these? 
 My fiull ears catch no faltering breeze, 
 No weeping birch nor aspens wake, 
 Nor breath is dimpling in the lake, 
 
 25 Still is the canna's hoary beard. 
 Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 
 And hark again! some pipe of war 
 Sends the bold pibroch from afar." 
 
34 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XVI . 
 
 Far up the lengthen'd lake were spied 
 Four darkening specks upon the tide, 
 That, slow enlarging on the view. 
 Four mann'd and masted barges grew, 
 5 And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, 
 Steer'd full upon the lonely isle; 
 The point of Brianchoil they pass'd. 
 And, to the windward as they cast, 
 Against the sun they gave to shine 
 
 10 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: 
 
 15 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, 
 
 20 And mark the gaudy streamers flow 
 From their loud chanters down, and sweep 
 The furrow'd bosom of the deep, 
 As, rushing through the lake amain, 
 They plied the ancient Highland strain. 
 
 XVII 
 
 Ever, as on they bore, more loud 
 And louder rung the pibroch proud. 
 At first the sound, by distance tame, 
 Mellow'd along the waters came, 
 5 And, lingering long by cape and bay, 
 Wail'd every harsher note away. 
 Then bursting bolder on the ear. 
 The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear; 
 Those thrilling sounds, that call the might 
 10 Of Old Clan -Alpine to the fight. 
 
CANTO SECOND 35 
 
 Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 
 The mustering hundreds shake the glen, 
 And hurry at the signal dread, 
 The batter'd earth returns their tread. 
 
 15 Then prelude light, of livelier tone, 
 Express'd their merry marching on, 
 Ere peal of closing battle rose. 
 With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows; 
 And mimic din of stroke and ward, 
 
 I'O As bnmd sword upon target jarr'd ; 
 And groaning ])ause, ere yet again, 
 Condensed, the battle yell'd amain; 
 The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 
 Retreat borne headlong into rout, 
 
 25 And bursts of triumph, to declare 
 
 Clan-Alpine's concjuest — all were there. 
 Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow 
 Sunk in a moan prolong'd and low. 
 And changed the concjuering clarion swell, 
 
 30 For wild lament o'er those that fell. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 The \\ar-j)i})es ceased ; but lake and hill 
 Were busy with their echoes still; 
 And, when they sle])t, a vocal strain 
 Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, 
 5 While loud a hundred clansmen raise 
 Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 
 Each boatman, bending to his oar. 
 With measured sweep the burden bore. 
 In such wild cadence as the breeze 
 10 INIakes through December's leafless trees. 
 The chorus first could Allan know, 
 "Roderick Vich Alpine, ho! iro!" 
 And near, and nearer as they row'd, 
 Distinct the martial ditty flow'd. 
 
36 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XIX 
 Mont S»nug 
 
 Hail to the cliicf who in triumph advances! 
 
 Honoiir'd and ble.ss'd be the ever-green Pine! 
 Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
 Flourish, the sheher and grace of our hue! 
 5 Heaven send it happy dew, 
 
 Earth lend it sap anew, 
 Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to groA\-, 
 While every Highland glen 
 Sends our shout back agen, 
 10 "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. 
 15 Moor'd in the rifted rock. 
 
 Proof to the tempest's shock, 
 P^irmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; 
 
 Menteith and Breadalbane, then. 
 Echo his praise agen, 
 20 "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!" 
 
 XX 
 
 I'roudly our pibroch has thrill'd in Glen Friiin, 
 
 And Bannochar'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. 
 5 Widow and Saxon maid 
 
 Long shall lament our raid, 
 Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe;. 
 Lennox and Leven-glen 
 Shake when they hear agen 
 10 "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!" 
 
CANTO SECOND 35 
 
 Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 
 
 The mustering hundreds shake the glen, 
 
 And hurry at the signal dread, 
 
 The batter'd earth returns their tread. 
 15 Then prelude hght, of Hveher tone, 
 
 Express'd their merry marching on, 
 
 Ere peal of closing battle rose. 
 
 With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows; 
 
 And mimic din of stroke and ward, 
 20 As broad sword upon target jarr'd ; 
 
 And groaning ])ause, ere yet again, 
 
 Condensed, the battle ycll'd amain ; 
 
 The rapid charge, the rallying sliont, 
 
 Retreat borne headlong into rout, 
 25 And bursts of triumph, to declare 
 
 Clan-Alpine's conquest — all w'ere there. 
 
 Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow 
 
 Sunk in a moan prolong'd and low, 
 
 And changed the conquering clarion swell, 
 30 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 slei)t, a vocal strain 
 Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, 
 5 While loud a hundred clansmen raise 
 Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 
 Each boatman, bending to his oar, 
 With measured sweep the. burden bore. 
 In such wild cadence as the breeze 
 10 Makes through December's leafless trees. 
 The chorus first could Allan know, 
 "Roderick Vich Alpine, ho! iro!" 
 And near, and nearer as they row'd. 
 Distinct the martial ditty flow'd. 
 
36 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XIX 
 
 Mant S'nttg 
 
 Hail to the chief who in triumph advances ! 
 
 Honour'cl and bless'd be the ever-green Pine! 
 Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
 Flourish, the sheUer and grace of our hnc! 
 5 Heaven send it happy dew, 
 
 Earth lend it sap anew, 
 Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow. 
 While every Highland glen 
 Sends our shout back agen, 
 10 "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! icroc!" 
 
 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. 
 15 Moor'd in the rifted rock. 
 
 Proof to the tempest's shock, 
 Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; 
 
 Menteith and Breadalbane, then, 
 Echo his praise agen, 
 20 "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, hoi ieroe!" 
 
 XX 
 
 Proudly our pibroch has thrill'd in Glen Fruin, 
 
 And Bannochar'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. 
 5 Widow and Saxon maid 
 
 Long shall lament our raid. 
 Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe; 
 Lennox and Leven-glen 
 Shake when they hear agen 
 10 "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!" 
 
CANTO SECOND S7 
 
 Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands ! 
 
 Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine ! 
 O, that the rose-bud that graces yon islands, 
 Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine ! 
 15 O that some seedling gem, 
 
 Worthy such noble stem, 
 Honour'd and blessed in their shadow might grow ! 
 Loud should Clan-Alpine then 
 Ring from her decpmost glen, 
 20 "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!" 
 
 XXI 
 
 With all her joyful female band, 
 
 Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 
 
 Loose on the breeze their tresses flew. 
 
 And high their snowy arms they threw, 
 5 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, 
 10 To greet her kinsman ere he land : 
 
 " Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, 
 
 And shun to wreathe a victor's brow ?" 
 
 Reluctantly and slow, the maid 
 
 The unwelcome sumhioning obey'd, 
 15 And, when a distant bugle rung. 
 
 In the mid-path aside she sprung: — 
 
 "List, Allan-bane! From mainland cast 
 
 1 hear my father's signal blast. 
 
 Be ours," she cried, "the skiff to guide, 
 20 And waft him from the mountain side." 
 
 Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright. 
 
 She darted to her shallop light. 
 
 And, eagerly while Roderick scann'd. 
 
 For her dear form, his mother's band, 
 
38 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 25 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, 
 5 A tear so limpid and soVneek, 
 It would not stain an angel's cheek, 
 'T is that which pious fathers shed 
 Upon a duteous daughter's head ! 
 And as the Douglas to his breast 
 
 10 His darling Ellen closely press'd, 
 Such holy drops her tresses steep'd, 
 Though 't was an hero's eye that weep'd. 
 Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 
 Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 
 
 15 Mark'd she, that fear (affection's proof) 
 Still held a graceful youth aloof; 
 No! not till Douglas named his name. 
 Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Allan, with wistful look the while, 
 Mark'd Roderick landing on the isle; 
 His master piteously he eyed, 
 Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride, 
 
 5 Then dash'd, with hasty hand, away 
 From his dimni'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 
 
 10 In my poor follower's glistening eye ? 
 I'll tell thee : — he recalls the day. 
 When in my praise he led the lay 
 
CANTO SECOND 37 
 
 Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands ! 
 
 Stretch to yotir oars, for the ever-green Pine ! 
 (3, that the rose-bud that graces yon islands, 
 Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine ! 
 15 O that some seedling gem. 
 
 Worthy such noble stem, 
 Honour'd and blessed in their shadow might grow ! 
 Loud should Clan-Alpine then 
 Ring from her deepmost glen, 
 20 "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!" 
 
 XXI 
 
 With all her joyful female band. 
 
 Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 
 
 Loose on the breeze their tresses flew. 
 
 And high their snowy arms they threw, 
 6 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, 
 10 To greet her kinsman ere he land : 
 
 " Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, 
 
 And shun to wreathe a victor's brow?" 
 
 Reluctantly and slow, the maid 
 
 The unwelcome summoning obey'd, 
 15 And, when a distant bugle rung, 
 
 In the mid-path aside she sprung: — 
 
 "List, Allan-bane! From mainland cast 
 
 I hear my father's signal blast. 
 
 Be ours," she cried, "the skifl' to guide, 
 20 And waft him from the movmtain side." 
 
 Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright, 
 
 She darted to her shallop light, 
 
 And, eagerly while Roderick scann'd. 
 
 For her dear form, his mother's band, 
 
38 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 25 The islet far behind her lay, 
 And she had hxnded 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 fl(>ar, 
 5 A tear so limpid and so meek, 
 It would not stain an angel's cheek, 
 'T is that whiqh pious fathers shed 
 Upon a duteous daughter's head! 
 And as the Douglas to his breast 
 
 10 His darling Ellen closely press'd, 
 Such holy drops her tresses steep'd. 
 Though 't was an hero's eye that weep'd. 
 Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 
 Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 
 
 15 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 Grseme. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Allan, with wistful look the while, 
 Mark'd Roderick landing on the isle; 
 His master piteously he eyed. 
 Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride, 
 
 5 Then dash'd, with hasty hand, away 
 From his dimm'd eye the gathering spray; 
 And Douglas, as his hand he laid 
 On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said, 
 "Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy 
 
 10 In my poor follower's glistening eye ? 
 I'll tell thee : — he recalls the day, 
 When in my praise he led the lay 
 
CANTO SECOND 39 
 
 O'er the arch'd gate of Bothwell proud, 
 
 While many a minstrel answer'd loud, 
 15 When Percy's Norman pennon, won 
 
 In bloody field, before me shone, 
 
 And twice ten knights, the least a name 
 
 As mighty as yon Chief may claim, 
 
 Gracing my pomp, behind nie came. 
 20 Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 
 
 Was I of all that marshall'd crowd, 
 
 Though the waned crescent own'd my might. 
 
 And in my train troop'd lord and knight, 
 
 Though Blantyre hymn'd her holiest lays, 
 25 And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise, 
 
 As when this old man's silent tear, 
 
 And this poor maid's affection dear, 
 
 A welcome give more kind and true 
 
 Than aught my better fortunes knew. 
 30 Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, 
 
 O! it out-beggars all 1 lost ! " 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Delightful praise ! — like sunmier rose, 
 
 That brighter in the dew-drop glows, 
 
 The bashful maiden's cheek appear'd, 
 
 For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 
 5 The flush of shame-faced joy to hide, 
 
 The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide; 
 
 The loved caresses of the maid 
 
 The dogs with crouch and whimper pttid ; 
 
 And, at her whistle, on her hand 
 10 The falcon took her favourite stand, 
 
 Closed his dark wing, relax'd his eye, 
 
 Nor, though un hooded, sought to fly. 
 
 And, trust, while in such guise she stood. 
 
 Like fabled Goddess of the wood, 
 15 That if a father's partial thought 
 
 O'erweigh'd her worth, and beauty aught, 
 
40 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Well might the lover's judgment fail 
 To balance with a juster scale ; 
 For with each secret glance he stole, 
 20 The fond enthusiast sent his soul. 
 
 XXV 
 
 Of stature tall, and slender frame, 
 But firmly knit, was Malcolm Grteme. 
 The belted plaid and tartan hose 
 Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose; 
 5 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, 
 
 10 He knew, through Lennox and Menteith; 
 Vain was the bountl of dark-brown doe, 
 When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, 
 And scarce that doe, though wing'd with fear, 
 Outstripp'd in speed the mountaineer: 
 
 15 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, 
 
 20 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, 
 
 25 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, 
 
 30 But quail to that of INIalcolm Gramme. 
 
CANTO SECOND 41 
 
 XXVI 
 
 Now back they wend their watery way, 
 
 And, "O my sire!" did Ellen say, 
 
 "Why urge thy chase so far astray? 
 
 And why so late return 'd ? And why" — 
 5 The I'est was in her speaking eye. 
 
 "My child, the chase I follow far, 
 
 'T is mimicry of noble war; 
 
 And with that gallant pastime reft 
 
 Were all of Douglas I have left. 
 10 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, 
 15 Risk'd life and land to be my guard, 
 
 And through the passes of the wood 
 
 Cjuideil my steps, not unpursued; 
 
 And Roderick shall his welcome niake, 
 
 Despite old spleen, for Douglas' .sake. 
 20 Then must he seek Strath-End rick glen, 
 
 Nor peril aught for me agen." 
 
 XXVII 
 
 Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, 
 Redden 'd at sight of Malcolm Graeme, 
 Yet, not in action, word, or eye, 
 Fail'd aught in hospitality. 
 5 'In talk and sport they whiled away 
 The morning of that summer day; 
 But at high noon a courier light 
 Held secret parley with the knight. 
 Whose moody aspect soon declared 
 10 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, 
 
42 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 15 And Ellen, too; then cast around 
 
 His eyes, then fix'd them on the ground, 
 As studying phrase that might avail 
 Best to convey unpleasant tale. 
 Long with his dagger's hilt he play'd, 
 
 20 Then raised his haughty brov.-, and said: — 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 "Short be my speech; — nor time aft'ords, 
 Nor my plain temper, glozing words. 
 Kinsman and father, — if such name 
 Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim; 
 5 Mine honour'd mother: — Ellen, — why, 
 jMy cousin, turn away thine eye ? — 
 And Graeme, in whom I hope to know 
 Full soon a noble friend or foe. 
 When age shall give thee thy command, 
 
 10 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 silvan game, 
 
 15 Themselves in bloody toils were snared. 
 And when the banquet they prepared, 
 And Avide their loyal portals flung, 
 O'er their own gateway struggling hung. 
 Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead, 
 
 20 From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed, 
 Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide, 
 And from the silver Teviot's side ; 
 The dales, where martial clans did ride, 
 Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 
 
 25 This tyrant of the Scottish throne, 
 So faithless, and so ruthless known, 
 Now hither comes; his end the same, 
 The same pretext of silvan game. 
 What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye 
 
 30 By fate of Border chivalry. 
 
CANTO SECOND 43 
 
 Yet more; amid Gleiifinlas' green, 
 Douglas, thy stately form was seen. 
 This by espial sure I know : 
 Your counsel in the streight I show." 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Ellen and Margaret fearfully 
 
 Sought comfort in each other's eye. 
 
 Then turn'd their ghastly look, each one, 
 
 This to her sire, that to her son. 
 5 The hasty colour went and came 
 
 In the bold cheek of IMalcolm Gra?me; 
 
 But from his glance it well appear'd, 
 
 'T was but for Ellen that he fear'd ; 
 
 While, sorrowful, but imdismay'd, 
 10 The Douglas thus his counsel said: — 
 
 "Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar. 
 
 It may but thunder and pass o'er; 
 
 Nor will I here remain an hour, 
 
 To draw the lightning on thy bower; 
 15 For well thou know'st, at this grey head 
 
 The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 
 
 For thee, who, at thy King's command, 
 
 Can,st aid him with a gallant band, 
 
 Submission, homage, humbled pride, 
 20 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, 
 25 Till on the mountain and the moor, 
 
 The stern pursuit be pass'd and o'er." — 
 
 XXX 
 
 "No, by mine honour," Roderick said, 
 "So help me Heaven, and my good blade! 
 No, never! Blasted be yon Pine, 
 My fathers' ancient crest and mine, - 
 
44 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 5 If from its shade in danger part 
 The Hneage of the Bleeding Heart ! 
 Hear my blunt speech: Grant me this maid 
 To wife, thy counsel to mine aid ; 
 To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu, 
 
 10 Will friends and allies flock enow; 
 Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 
 Will bind to us each W^estern Chief. 
 When the loud pipes my bridal tell. 
 The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, 
 
 15 The guards shall start in Stirling's porch; 
 And, when I light thenuptial torch, ' 
 A thousand villages in flames 
 Shall scare the slumbers of King James! 
 — Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away, 
 
 20 And, mother, cease these signs, I pray; 
 I meant not all my heart might say. — 
 Small need of inroad, or of fight. 
 When the sage Douglas may unite 
 Each mountain clan in friendly band, 
 
 25 To guard the passes of their land. 
 Till the foil'd king, from pathless 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, 
 5 Dream 'd calmly out their dangerous dream, 
 Till waken'd by the morning beam ; 
 When, dazzled by the eastern glow. 
 Such startler cast his glance below, 
 And saw unmeasured depth around, 
 10 And heard unintermitted sound. 
 And thought the battled fence so frail, 
 It waved like cobweb in the gale ; — 
 
CANTO SECOND 45 
 
 Amid his senses' giddy wheel, 
 
 Did he not desperate impulse feel, 
 15 Headlong to plunge himself below, 
 
 And meet the worst his fears foreshow ? — 
 
 Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound. 
 
 As sudden ruin yawn'd around, 
 
 By crossing terrors wildly toss'd, 
 20 Still for the Douglas fearing most, 
 
 Could scarce the desperate thought withstand. 
 
 To buy his safety with her hand. 
 
 XXXII 
 
 Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy 
 
 In Ellen's quivering lip and eye. 
 
 And eager rose to speak — but ere 
 
 His tongue could hurry forth his fear, 
 5 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, 
 10 Left its domain as wan as clay. 
 
 "Roderick, enough! enough!" l)e cried, 
 
 "My daughter cannot be thy bride; 
 
 Not that the blush to wooer dear. 
 
 Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 
 15 It may not be — forgive her, Chief, 
 
 Nor hazard aught for our relief. 
 
 Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 
 
 Will level a rebellious spear. 
 
 'T was I that taught his youthful hand 
 20 To rein a steed and wield a brand ; 
 
 I see liim yet, the princely boy ! 
 
 Not Ellen more my pride and joy; 
 
 I love him still, despite my wrongs, 
 
 By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues. 
 25 O seek the grace you well may find. 
 
 Without a cause to mine combined." 
 
46 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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, 
 5 Seeni'd, by the torch's gloomy light, 
 Like the ill Demon of the night. 
 Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway 
 Upon the knighted pilgrim's way: 
 But, unrequited Love ! thy dart 
 
 10 Plunged deepest its envenom'd smart. 
 And Roderick, with thine anguish stung, 
 At length the hand of Douglas wrung, 
 While eyes, that mock'd at tears before. 
 With bitter drops were running o'er. 
 
 15 The death-pangs of long-cherish'd hope 
 Scarce in that ample breast had scope, 
 But, struggling with his spirit proud, 
 Convulsive heaved its chequer'd shroud, 
 While every sob — so mute were all — 
 
 20 Was heard distinctly through the hall. 
 The son's despair, the mother's look, 
 111 might the gentle Ellen brook; 
 She rose, and to her side there came, 
 To aid her parting steps, the Graeme. 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 Then Roderick from the Douglas broke — 
 As flashes flame through sable smoke, 
 Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, 
 To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, 
 5 So the deep anguish of despair 
 Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. 
 With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 
 On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid: 
 "Back, beardless boy!" he sternly said, 
 
CANTO SECOND 47 
 
 10 " Back, minion ! hold'st thou thus at naught 
 
 The lesson I so lately taught ? 
 
 This roof, the Douglas, and that maid, 
 
 Thank thou for punishment delay'd." 
 
 Eager as greyhound on his game, 
 15 Fiercely with Roderick grappled Grteme. 
 
 "Perish my name, if aught afford 
 
 Its Chieftain's safety save his sword!" 
 
 Thus as they strove, their desperate hand 
 
 Griped to the dagger or the brand, 
 20 And death had been — but Douglas rose, 
 
 And thrust between the struggling foes 
 
 His giant strength: — "Chieftains, forego! 
 
 I hold the first who strikes, my foe. — 
 
 Madmen, forbear your frantic jar! 
 25 What! is the Douglas fall'n so far. 
 
 His daughter's hand is doom'd the spoil 
 
 Of such dishonourable broil !" 
 • Sullen and slowly they unclasp, 
 
 As struck with shame, their desperate grasp, 
 30 And each upon his rival glared, 
 
 With foot advanced, and blade half bared. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 Ere yet the brands aloft were flung 
 Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung, 
 And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream. 
 As falter'd through terrific dream. 
 5 Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword 
 And veil'd his wrath in scornful word: 
 "Rest safe till morning; pity 't were 
 Such cheek should feel the midnight air! 
 Then mayest thou to James Stuart tell, 
 10 Roderick will keep the lake and fell, 
 Nor lackey, with his freeborn clan, 
 The pageant pomp of earthy man. 
 More would he of Clan-Alpine know. 
 Thou canst our strength and passes show. — 
 
48 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 15 Malise, what ho!" — his henchman came: 
 "Give our safe-conduct to the Gneme." 
 Young Malcolm answer'd, calm and bold, 
 "Fear nothing for thy favourite hold; 
 The spot, an angel deigned to grace, 
 
 20 Is bless'd, though robbers haunt the place. 
 Thy churlish courtesy for those 
 Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 
 As safe to me the mountain way 
 At midnight as in blaze of day, 
 
 25 Though with his boldest at his back 
 Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. — 
 Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay. 
 Nought here of parting will I say. 
 Earth does not hold a lonesome glen, 
 
 30 So secret, but we meet agen. — 
 
 Chieftain! we too shall find an hour," — 
 He said, and left the silvan bower. 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 Old Allan follow VI to the strand, 
 (Such was the Douglas's command) , 
 And anxious told, how, on the morn, 
 The stern Sir Roderick deep had swf)rn, 
 
 5 The Fiery Gross should circle o'er 
 Dale, glen, and valley, down, and moor. 
 Much were the peril to the Grseme, 
 From those who to the signal came ; 
 Far up the lake 't were safest land, 
 
 10 Himself would row him to the strand. 
 He gave his counsel to the wind, 
 AVhile Malcolm did, unheeding, bind. 
 Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roU'd, 
 His ample plaid in tighten'd fold, 
 
 15 And stripp'd his limbs to such array 
 As best might suit the watery way, — 
 
CANTO SECOND 49 
 
 XXXVIT 
 
 Then spoke abrupt: "Farewell to thee, 
 Pattern of old fidelity!" 
 The Mhistrel's hand he kindly press'd,- 
 "()! could I point a place of rest! 
 5 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. 
 Vet, if there be one faithful Gr?eme, 
 
 10 Who loves the chieftain of his name, 
 Not long shall honour'd Douglas dwell. 
 Like hunted stag in mountain cell; 
 Nor, ere yon pride-swoll'n robber tlai'c,- 
 I may not give the rest to air! 
 
 IT) Tell Roderick l)hu, I owed him nought, 
 Not the poor service of a boat, 
 To waft me to yon mountain-side." 
 Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 
 Bold o'er the flood bis head he bore, 
 
 20 And stoutly steer'd him from the shore; 
 And i\llan strain'd his anxious eye. 
 Far 'mid the lake his form to spy. 
 Darkening across each puny wave, 
 To which the moon her silver gave, 
 
 25 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, 
 
 30 And joyful from the shore withdrew. 
 
50 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 CANTO THIRD 
 
 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, 
 5 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 cease- 
 less course. 
 
 10 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, 
 15 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, 
 5 And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, 
 Trembled but dimpled not for joy; 
 The mountain-shadows on her breast 
 Were neither broken nor at rest; 
 
CANTO THIRD 51 
 
 In bright uncertainty they he, 
 10 Like future joys to Fancy's eye. 
 The water-hly to the light 
 Her chahce rear'cl of silver bright; 
 The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 
 Begemm'd with dew-drops, led her fawn ; 
 15 The grey 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 ^ 
 20 Good-morrow gave from brake and bush; 
 In answer coo'd the cushat dove 
 Her notes of peace, and rest, and love. 
 
 Ill 
 
 No thought of peace, no thought of rest, 
 Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. 
 With sheathed broadsword in his hand, 
 Abrupt he paced the islet strand, 
 5 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; 
 
 10 For such Anti(|uity had taught 
 Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 
 The Cross of Fire should take its road. 
 The shrinking band stood oft aghast 
 At the impatient glance he cast; — 
 
 15 Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 
 As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, 
 She spread her dark sails on the wind, 
 And, high in middle heaven reclined. 
 With her broad shadow on the lake, 
 
 20 Silenced the warblers of the brake. 
 
52 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 IV 
 
 A heap of wither'd Ijoughs was jailed, 
 Of juniper and rowan wild, 
 Mingled with shivers from the oai<, 
 Rent by the Hghtning's recent stroke. 
 5 Brian the Hermit by it stood, 
 Barefooted, in his frock and hood. 
 His grisled beard and matted hair 
 Obscured a visage of despair; 
 His naked arms and legs, seam'd o'er, 
 
 10 The scars of frantic penan'c boi''\ 
 That monk, of savage form and face, 
 The impending danger of his race 
 Had drawn from deepest solitude, 
 Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. 
 
 15 Not his the mien of Christian priest, 
 But Druid's, from the grave released, 
 Whose harden 'd heart and eye might brook 
 On human sacrifice to look; 
 And much, 't was said, of heathen lore 
 
 20 Mix'd in the charms he mutter'd o'er. 
 The ha How 'd creed gave only worse 
 And deadlier emphasis of ciu'se. 
 No peasant sought that Hermit's })raycr. 
 His cave the pilgrim shunn'd with care; 
 
 25 The eager huntsman knew his bound, 
 And in mid cha-se call'd ofl' his hound ; 
 Or if, in lonely glen or strath. 
 The desert-dweller met his path. 
 He pray'd, and sign'd the cross between, 
 
 30 While terror took devotion's mien. 
 
 Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. 
 His mother watch'd a midnight fold. 
 Built deep within a dreary glen. 
 Where scatter'd lav the bones of men, 
 
CANTO THIRD 53 
 
 5 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 
 10 Which once could burst an iron band; 
 
 Beneath the broad and ample bone, 
 
 That bucklerVl heart to fear unknown, 
 
 A feeble and a timorous guest, 
 
 The fieldfare framed her lowly nest; 
 15 There the slow blintl-worm left his slime 
 
 On the fleet limbs that mock'd at time; 
 
 And there, too, lay the leader's skull. 
 
 Still wreathed with chaplet, flush'd and full, 
 
 For heath-bell with her purple bloom , 
 20 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, 
 25 Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 
 
 The virgin snood did Alice wear; 
 
 Gone was her maiden glee and sport, 
 
 Her maiden girdle all too short, 
 
 Nor sought she, from that fatal night, 
 30 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, 
 5 Bearing each taunt which careless tongue 
 On his mysterious lineage flung. 
 Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, 
 To wood and stream his hap to wail, 
 
54 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Till, frantic, he as truth received 
 'lo 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; 
 15 In 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 
 20 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, 
 25 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 clifi^'s the torrents toil, 
 
 He watch'd the wheeling eddies boil, ^^ ^ t/ 
 
 5 Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes j^Jo vioH -lO os 
 
 Beheld the River Demon rise; ^^ ^-j i/^j^^^i j„g 
 
 The mountain mist took form and }.}}]ilp\ p,; [^gjj, \^^j. 
 
 Of noontide hag, or goblin grim ; 
 
 The midnight wind came wild and dread, 
 10 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. 
 15 One Hngering sympathy of mind 
 
 Still bound him to the mortal kind ; 
 
 The only parent he could claim 
 
 Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. 
 
Canto third s5 
 
 Late had he heard, in prophet's dream, 
 20 The fatal Ben-Shie's boding seream ; 
 Sounds, too, had come in midnight bhist, 
 Of charging steeds, careering fast 
 Along Benharrow's shingly side, 
 Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride; 
 25 The thunderbolt had split the pine, — 
 All augur'd ill to Alpine's line. 
 He girt his loins, and came to show 
 The signals of impending woe, 
 And now stood prompt to bless or ban, 
 30 As bade the Chieftain of his clan . 
 
 VITI 
 
 'T was all prepared; — and from the rock, 
 A goat, the patriarch of the flock. 
 Before the kindling pile was laid. 
 And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. 
 5 Patient the sickening victim eyed 
 The life-blood ebb in crimson tide, 
 Down his clogg'd beard and shaggy limb, 
 Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 
 The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 
 
 10 A slender crosslet framed with care, 
 A cubit's length in measure due; 
 The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, 
 Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave 
 Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave, 
 
 15 And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, 
 Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 
 The Cross, thus form'd, he held on high, 
 With wasted hand, and haggard eye. 
 And strange and mingled feelings woke, 
 
 20 While his anathema he spoke. 
 
 IX 
 
 "Woe to the clansman, who shall view 
 This symbol of sepulchral yew, 
 
5G THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Forgetful that its branches grew 
 Where weep the heavens their hoUest dew 
 5 On Alpine's dwelhng low! 
 
 Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, 
 He ne'er shall mingle with their dust, 
 But, from his sires and kindred thrust, 
 Each clansman's execration just 
 
 10 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; 
 
 15 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, 
 
 20 "Woe to the traitor, woe!" 
 
 Ben-an's grey 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; 
 5 And the few words that reach'd the air. 
 Although the holiest name was there. 
 Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 
 But when he shook above the crowd 
 Its kindled points, he spoke aloud: — 
 10 "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; 
 
CANTO THIRD 57 
 
 15 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." 
 20 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; 
 25 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!" 
 30 A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
 Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave! 
 And the gray pass where birches wave, 
 On Beala-nam-bo. 
 
 XI 
 
 Then deeper paused the priest anew. 
 And hard his labouring breath he drew. 
 While, with set teeth and clenched hand. 
 And eyes that glow'd like fiery brand, 
 
 5 He meditated curse more dread, 
 And deadlier, on the clansman's head, 
 Who, summon 'd to his chieftain's aid 
 The signal saw and disobey'd. 
 The crosslet's points of sparkling wood 
 
 10 He quench'd among the bubbling blood, 
 And, as again the sign he rear'd, 
 HolloAV and hoarse his voice was heard : 
 "When flits this Cross from man to man, 
 Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan, 
 
 15 Burst be the ear that fails to heed! 
 Palsied the foot that shuns to speed! 
 
58 THE LADY OF THE LAKE ' 
 
 May ravens tear the careless eyes, 
 Wolves make the coward heart their prize! 
 As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, 
 
 20 So may his heart's blood drench his heartii! 
 As dies in hissing gore the spark, 
 Quench thou his light, Destruction dark! 
 And be the grace to him denied, 
 Bought by this sign to all beside!" 
 
 25 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. 
 
 5 "The muster-place be lyanrick 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 pro\A-, 
 
 10 So rapidly the barge-men row. 
 
 The bubbles, where they launched the boat. 
 Were all unbroken and afloat. 
 Dancing in foam and ripj)le still, 
 W^hen it had near'd the maiidand hill; 
 
 15 And from the sih'cr lieach's side 
 Still was the prow three fathom wide, 
 When lightly bounded to the land 
 The messenger of blood and brand. 
 
 XIII 
 
 Speed, Malise, speed! the dun deer's hide 
 On fleeter foot was never tied. 
 Speed, Malise, speed ! such cause of haste 
 Thine active sinews never braced. 
 5 Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, 
 Burst down like torrent from its crest ; 
 
CANTO THIRD 59 
 
 With short and springing footstep pass 
 
 The trembUng bog and false morass; 
 
 Across the brook Uke roebuck bound, 
 10 And thread the brake hke 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 ; 
 15 Herald of battle, fate, and fear. 
 
 Stretch onward in thy fleet career! 
 
 The wounded hind thou track'st not now, 
 
 Pursuest not maid through greenwocjd bough. 
 
 Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace 
 20 With rivals in tlie 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. 
 5 Nor slack'd the messenger his pace ; 
 
 He show'd the sign, he named the place, 
 
 And, pressing forward like the wind. 
 
 Left clamour and surprise behind. 
 
 The fisherman forsook the strand, 
 10 The swarthy smith took dirk and brand; 
 
 With changed cheer, the mower blithe 
 
 Left in the half-cut swathe the scythe ; 
 
 The herds without a keeper stray'd, 
 
 The plough was in mid-furrow staid, 
 15 The falconer toss'd his hawk away. 
 
 The hunter left the stag at bay; 
 
 Prompt at the sigiial of alarms. 
 
 Each son of Alpine rush'd to arms; 
 
 So swept the tumult and aft'ray 
 20 Along the margin of Achray. 
 
60 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Alas, thou lovely lake! that e'er 
 Thy banks should echo sounds of fear! 
 The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleej) 
 So stilly on thy bosom deep, 
 25 The lark's blithe carol from the cloud, 
 Seems for the scene too gaily loud. 
 
 XV 
 
 Speed, Malise, speed! the lake is past, 
 Duncraggan's huts appear at last, 
 And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 
 Half hidden in the copse so green ; 
 5 There mayst thou rest, thy labour done, 
 Their Lord shall speed the signal on. — 
 As stoops the hawk upon his prey. 
 The henchmftn shot him down the way. 
 — ^What woeful accents load the gale ? 
 
 10 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 ! — 
 
 15 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, 
 
 20 His youngest weeps, but knows not why; 
 The village maids and matrons round 
 The dismal coronach resound. 
 
 XVI 
 (Havanutl) 
 
 He is gone on the mountain, 
 He is lost to the forest. 
 
 Like a summer-dried fountain, 
 When our need was the sorest. 
 
CANTO THIRD 61 
 
 5 The font, reappearing, 
 
 From the rain-drops shall borrow, 
 But to us comes no cheering, 
 
 To Duncan no morrow ! 
 The hand of the reaper 
 10 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 scarest, 
 15 But our flower was in flushing. 
 
 When blighting was nearest. 
 Fleet foot on the correi, 
 
 Sage counsel in cumber, 
 Red hand in the foray, 
 20 How sound is thy slumber! 
 
 Like the dew on the mountain. 
 
 Like the foam on the river. 
 Like the bubble on the fountain. 
 
 Thou art gone, and for ever! 
 
 XVII 
 
 See Stumah, who, the bier beside, 
 
 His master's corpse with wonder eyed, 
 
 Poor Stumah! whom his least halloo 
 
 Could send like lightning o'er the dew, 
 5 Bristles his crest, and points his ears. 
 
 As if some stranger step he hears. 
 
 'T is not a mourner's muffled tread. 
 
 Who conies to sorrow o'er the dead, 
 
 But headlong haste, or deadly fear, 
 10 Urge the precipitate career. 
 
 All stand aghast: — imhecding all, 
 
 The henchman bursts into the hall; 
 
 Before the dead man's bier he stood, 
 
 Held forth the Cross besmear'd with blood; 
 15 "The muster-place is Lanrick mead; 
 
 Speed forth the signal! clansmen, speed!" 
 
62 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Angus, the heir of Duncan's Hne, 
 Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. 
 In haste the striphng to his side 
 Ilis father's dirk and broadsword tied; 
 5 But when he saw his mother's eye 
 Watch him in speechless agony, 
 Back to her open'd arms he flew, 
 Press'd on her lips a fond adieu — 
 "Alas!" she sobb'd, — "and yet be gone, 
 
 10 And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son!" 
 One look he cast upon the bier, 
 Dash'd from his eye the gathering tear. 
 Breathed deep to clear his labouring breast, 
 And toss'd aloft his bonnet crest, 
 
 15 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, 
 
 20 While 3^et his footsteps she could hear; 
 And when she mark'd the hencliman's eye 
 Wet with unwonted sympathy, 
 "Kinsman," she said, "his race is run. 
 That should have sped thine errand on ; 
 
 25 The oak has fall'n, — the sapling bough 
 Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. 
 Yet trust I well, his duty done, 
 The orphan's God will guard my son. — 
 And you, in many a danger true, 
 
 30 At Duncan's best your blades that drew, 
 To arms, and guard that orphan's head ! 
 Let babes and women wail the dead." 
 Then weapon-clang, and martial call. 
 Resounded through the funeral hall, 
 
 35 While from the walls the attendant band 
 Snatch'd sword and targe, with hurried hand ; 
 
CANTO THIRD 63 
 
 And short and flitting energy 
 Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, 
 As if the sounds to warrior dear 
 40 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 sumjnons flew, 
 
 Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew ; 
 5 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, 
 10 The chapel of St. 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, 
 15 He dash'd amid the torrent's roar: 
 
 His right hand high the crosslet bore. 
 
 His left the pole-axe grasp'd, to guide 
 
 And stay his footing in the tide. 
 
 He stumbled twice — the foam splash'd high, 
 20 AYith hoarser swell the stream raced by; 
 
 And had he fall'n, — for ever there, 
 
 Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir! 
 
 But still, as if in parting life. 
 
 Firmer he grasp'd the Cross of strife, 
 25 Until the opposing bank he gain'd, 
 
 And up the chapel pathway strain'd. 
 
 XX 
 
 A blithesome rout, that morning tide. 
 Had sought the chapel of St. Bride. 
 
64 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 
 To Norman, heir of Armanflave. 
 5 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, 
 
 10 Which snooded maiden \^^ould 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, 
 
 15 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, 
 
 20 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 churchyard gate ? 
 The messenger of fear and fate ! 
 Haste in his hurried accent lies, 
 And grief is swimming in his eyes. 
 
 5 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 ; 
 
 10 Speed forth the signal! Norman, sjieed!" 
 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, 
 
 15 And promised rapture in the close. 
 
CANTO THIRD 65 
 
 Before its setting hour, divide 
 The bridegroom from the plighted bride ? 
 O fatal doom ! — it must ! it must ! 
 Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust, 
 20 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; 
 5 Then, trusting not a second look, 
 
 In haste he sped him up the brook, 
 
 Nor backward glanced, till on the heath 
 
 Where Lubnaig's lake supj)Ues the Tcith. 
 
 — What in the racer's bosom stirr'd ? 
 10 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; 
 15 The stormy joy of mountaineers, 
 
 Ere yet they rush upon the spears; 
 
 And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning, 
 
 And hope, from well-fought field returning, 
 
 W'ith war's red honours on his crest, 
 20 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. 
 
66 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXIII 
 
 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, jNIary; 
 5 To-morrow eve, more stilly laid. 
 My couch m.ay be my bloody plaid, 
 My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid ! 
 
 It will not waken me, Mary! 
 
 I may not, dare not, fancy now 
 10 The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, 
 I dare not think upon thy vow, 
 
 x\nd all it promised me, Mary. 
 No fond regret must Norman know; 
 When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, 
 15 His heart must be like bended bow, 
 
 His foot like arrow £ree, Mary. 
 
 A time will come with feeling fraught, 
 For, if I fall in battle fought. 
 Thy hapless lover's dying thought 
 20 Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. 
 
 And if return'd from concjuer'd foes, 
 How blithely will the evening close. 
 How sweet the linnet sing repose. 
 
 To my young bride and me, jSIary! 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 
 Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze. 
 Rushing in conflagration strong. 
 Thy deep ravines and dells along, 
 5 Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, 
 And reddening the dark lakes below; 
 
CANTO THIRD 67 
 
 Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, 
 
 As o'er tliy heaths the voiee of war. 
 
 The signal roused to martial coil, 
 10 The sullen margin of Loch Voil, 
 
 Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source 
 
 Alarm'd, Balvaig, thy swampy course; 
 
 Thence southward turn'd its rapid road 
 
 Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, 
 15 Till rose in arms each man might claim 
 
 A portion in Clan-Alpine's name. 
 
 From the grey sire, whose trembling hand 
 
 Could hardly buckle on his brand. 
 
 To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 
 20 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 
 
 Li Highland dales their streams unite, 
 25 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, 
 30 Owning no tie but to his clan. 
 
 No oath, but by his chieftain's hand, 
 
 No law, but Roderick Dhu's command. 
 
 XXV 
 
 That summer morn had Roderick Dhu 
 Survey'd the skirts of Benvcnue, 
 And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath, 
 To view the frontiers of Menteith. 
 5 All backward came with news of truce; 
 Still lay each martial Grj^me and Bruce, 
 In Rednoch courts no horsemen wait, 
 No banner waved on Cardross gate. 
 On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, 
 10 Nor scared the herons from Loch Con; 
 
68 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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 ?- 
 
 15 Jn Benvenue's most darksome cleft, 
 A fair, though cruel, pledge was left ; 
 For Douglas, to his promise true, 
 That morning from the isle withdrew. 
 And in a deep sequester'd dell 
 
 20 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 Avarrior's breast; 
 5 Its trench had staid full many a rock, 
 Hurl'd by primeval earthquake shock 
 From Benvenue's grey summit wild, 
 And here, in random ruin piled, 
 They frown'd incumbent o'er the spot, 
 
 10 And form'd the rugged silvan grot. 
 
 The oak and birch, with mingled shade. 
 At noontide there a twilight made, 
 Unless when short and sudden shone 
 Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, 
 
 15 With such a glimpse as prophet's eye 
 Gains on thy depth. Futurity. 
 No murmur waked the solemn still. 
 Save tinkling of a fountain rill; 
 But when the wind chafed with the lake, 
 
 20 A sullen sound would upward break, 
 With dashing hollow voice, that spoke 
 The incessant war of wave and rock. 
 
CANTO THIRD 69 
 
 Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway, 
 
 Seem'd nodding o'er the cavern grey. 
 25 From such a den the wolf had sprung, 
 
 In such the wild-cat leaves her young; 
 
 Yet Douglas and his daughter fair 
 
 Sought for a space their safety there. 
 
 Grey Superstition's whisper dread 
 30 Debarr'd the spot to vulgar tread; 
 
 For there, she said, did fays resort. 
 
 And satyrs hold their silvan 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 Benvenue. 
 5 Above the Goblin-cave they go. 
 
 Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo- 
 
 The prompt retainers speed before. 
 
 To launch the shallop from the shore, 
 
 For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way 
 10 To view the passes of Achray, 
 
 And place his clansmen in array. 
 
 Yet lags the Chief in musing mind. 
 
 Unwonted sight, his men behind. 
 
 A single page, to bear his sword, 
 15 Alone attended on his lord; 
 
 The rest their way through thickets break, 
 
 And soon await him by the lake. 
 
 It was a fair and gallant sight. 
 
 To view them from the neighbouring height, 
 20 By the low-levell'd sunbeam's light! 
 
 For strength and stature, from the clan 
 
 Each warrior was a chosen man. 
 
 As even afar might well be seen, 
 
 Bv their proud step and martial mien. 
 
70 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 25 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. 
 5 It was but with that dawning morn 
 That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn 
 To drown his love in war's wild roar, 
 Nor think of Ellen Douglas more ; 
 But he who stems a stream with sand, 
 
 10 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; 
 
 15 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 
 
 20 That waked to sound the rustling trees 
 But hark ! what mingles in the strain ? 
 It is the harp of Allan-bane, 
 That wakes its measure slow and high, 
 Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 
 
 25 What melting voice attends the strings ? 
 'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings. 
 
CANTO THIRD 71 
 
 XXIX 
 
 %mn tn tl|p Utrgin 
 
 Ave Maria! maiden mild! 
 
 Listen to a maiden's prayer! 
 Thou canst hear though from the wild, 
 Thou canst save amid despair. 
 5 Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, 
 
 Though banish'd, outcast, and reviled — 
 Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer; 
 Mother, hear a suppliant child ! 
 
 Aiv Maria! 
 10 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 
 15 Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled ; 
 Then, Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer; 
 Mother, list a suppliant child! 
 
 Aiv Maria! 
 
 Ave Maria! stainless styled! 
 20 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; 
 25 Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, 
 And for a father hear a child ! 
 
 Ave Maria! 
 
 XXX 
 
 Died on the harp the closing hymn — 
 Unmoved in attitude and limb. 
 As hst'ning still, Clan-Alpine's lord 
 Stood leaning on his heavy sword, 
 5 Until the page, with humble sign. 
 Twice pointed to the sun's decline. 
 
72 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Then while his plaid he round him cast, 
 
 "It is the last time — 'tis the last," 
 
 He muttered thrice, — "the last time e'er 
 
 10 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. 
 
 15 They landed in that silvery bay. 
 And eastward held their hasty way. 
 Till, with the lat-est beams of light, 
 The band arrived on Lanrick height. 
 Where muster'd in the vale below, 
 
 20 Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 A various scene the clansmen made. 
 Some sate, some stood, some slowly stray'd; 
 But most, with mantles folded round, 
 Were couch'd to rest upon the ground, 
 5 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, 
 
 10 Or lance's point, a glimmer made, 
 
 Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. 
 But when, advancing through the gloom. 
 They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume. 
 Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide, 
 
 15 Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 
 Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 
 Three times return'd the martial yell; 
 It died upon Bochastle's plain. 
 And Silence claim'd her evening reign. 
 
CANTO FOURTH 73 
 
 CANTO FOURTH 
 
 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, 
 x\nd love is lovehest when embahii'd in tears. 
 5 O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 
 
 I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, 
 
 Emblem of hope and love through future years!" — 
 
 Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, 
 
 What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave 
 
 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, 
 5 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 
 10 Art thou return'd from Braes of Douue. 
 
 By thy keen step and glance I know. 
 
 Thou bring' st us tidings of the foe." — 
 
 (For while the Fiery Cross hied on, 
 
 On distant scout had Malise gone.) 
 15 "Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchman said. 
 
 "Apart, in yonder misty glade; 
 
 To his lone couch I'll be your guide."— 
 
 Then call'd a slumberer by his side. 
 
74 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 And stirr'd liiiii witli his slacken'd l)()\v— 
 20 "Up, up, Glentarkin! rouse thee, ho! 
 We seek the Chieftain; on the track. 
 Keep eagle watch till I come back." 
 
 Ill 
 
 Together up the pass they sped: 
 
 "What of the foeman?" Norman said. — 
 
 "Varying reports from near and far; 
 
 This certain, — that a band of war 
 5 Has for two days been ready bounc, 
 
 At prompt command, to march to Douiic; 
 
 King James, the while, with princely jjowers. 
 
 Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 
 
 Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 
 10 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 V — 
 15 "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, 
 20 Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, 
 
 Upon these lakes shall float at large, 
 
 But all beside the islet moor. 
 
 That such dear pledge may rest secure?" — 
 
 IV 
 
 "'T is well advised — the Chieftain's plan 
 Bespeaks the father of his clan. 
 But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu 
 Apart from all his followers true?" — 
 5 "It is, because last evening-tide 
 Brian an augury hath tried, 
 
CANTO FOURTH 75 
 
 Of that dread kind which must not be 
 Unless in dread extremity, 
 The Taghairm call'd; by which, afar, 
 10 Our sires foresaw the events of war. 
 
 Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew." 
 
 MALISE 
 
 "Ah! well the gallant brute I knew, 
 
 The choicest of the prey we had. 
 
 When swept our merry-men Gallangad. 
 15 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, 
 20 Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. 
 
 But steep and flinty was the road, 
 
 And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad, 
 
 And when we came to Dennan's Row, 
 
 A child might scatheless stroke his brow." — 
 
 V 
 
 NORMAN 
 
 "That bull was slain: his reeking hide 
 They stretch'd the cataract beside. 
 Whose waters their wild tumult toss 
 Adown the black and craggy boss 
 5 Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge 
 Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. 
 Couch'd on a shelve beneath its brink. 
 Close where the thundering torrents sink, 
 Rocking beneath their headlong sway, 
 10 And drizzled by the ceaseless spray. 
 Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream, 
 The wizard waits prophetic dream. 
 Nor distant rests the Chief ; — but hush ! 
 See, gliding slow through mist and bush, 
 
76 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 15 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 slaughter'd host ? 
 Or raven on the blasted oak, 
 
 20 That, watching while the deer is broke, 
 His morsel claims with sullen croak?" 
 
 MALISE 
 
 — "Peace! peace! to other than to me, 
 Thy words were evil angury; 
 But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade 
 25 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, 
 5 Whose shroud of sentient clay can still 
 Feel feverish pang and fainting chill. 
 Whose eye can stare in stony trance. 
 Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance, — 
 'T is hard for such to view, unfurl'd, 
 
 10 The curtain of the future world. 
 Yet, witness every quaking limb. 
 My sunken pulse, my eyeballs dim. 
 My soul with harrowing anguish torn, — 
 This for my Chieftain have I borne! — 
 
 15 The shapes that sought my fearful couch, 
 A human tongue may ne'er avouch; 
 No mortal man,— save he, who, bred 
 
CANTO FOURTH 77 
 
 Between the living and the dead, 
 
 Is gifted beyond nature's law, — 
 20 Had e'er survived to say he saw. 
 
 At length the fatal answer came, 
 
 In characters of living flame! 
 
 Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll. 
 
 But borne and branded on my soul; — 
 25 Which spills the foremost foeman's life, 
 
 That party conquers in the strife." — 
 
 VII 
 
 "Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care! 
 
 Good is thine augury, and fair. 
 
 Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood, 
 
 But first our broadswords tasted blood. 
 5 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 his return! 
 
 My followers guard each pass's moutii, 
 10 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. 
 15 — But see, who comes his news to show! 
 
 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." — 
 5 " 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." — 
 
78 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 "Then shall it see a meeting stern! — 
 10 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 
 15 Shall man the Trosaf'hs' shaggy glen; 
 
 Within Tvoch Katrine's gorge we'll fight, 
 
 All in our maids' and matrons' sight. 
 
 Each for his hearth and household fire, 
 
 Father for child, and son for sire, — 
 20 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 and fear? 
 
 No! sooner may the Saxon lance 
 25 Unfix Benledi from his stance. 
 
 Than doubt or terror can pierce through 
 
 The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu! 
 
 'T is stubborn as his trusty targe. — 
 
 Each to his post — all know their charge." 
 30 The pibroch sounds, the bands advance, 
 
 The broadswords gleam, the banners dance, 
 
 Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. 
 
 — I turn me from the martial roar, . 
 
 And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. 
 
 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, 
 
CANTO FOURTH 79 
 
 10 When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm 
 
 Are cow'd by the approaching storm. 
 
 I saw their boats with many a light, 
 
 Floating the live-long yesternight, 
 
 Shifting like flashes darted forth 
 15 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. 
 20 Since this rude race dare not abide 
 
 The peril on the mainland side. 
 
 Shall not thy noble father's care 
 
 Some safe retreat for thee prepare?" — 
 
 X 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 "No, Allan, no! Pretext so kind 
 
 My wakeful terrors could not blind. 
 
 When in such tender tone, yet grave, 
 
 Douglas a parting blessing gave, 
 5 The tear that glisten'd in his eye 
 
 Drown'd not his purpose fix'd and high. 
 
 My soul, though feminine and weak. 
 
 Can image his; e'en as the lake. 
 
 Itself disturb'd by slightest stroke, 
 10 Reflects the invulnerable rock. 
 
 He hears report of battle rife, 
 
 He deems himself the cause of strife. 
 
 I saw him redden, when the theme 
 
 Turn'd, Allan, on thine idle dream 
 15 Of Malcolm Grajme in fetters bound, 
 
 Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. 
 
 Think'st thou he trow'd thine omen aught? 
 
 Oh no! 't was apprehensive thought 
 
 For the kind youth, — ^for Roderick too — 
 20 (Let me be just) that friend so true; 
 
80 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 In danger both, and in our cause! 
 Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. 
 Why else that solemn warning given, 
 ' If not on earth, we meet in heaven ! ' 
 
 25 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 friend's safety with his own; — 
 
 30 He goes to do — what I had done. 
 
 Had Douglas' daughter been his son!" — 
 
 XI 
 
 "Nay, lovely Ellen! — dearest, nayl 
 
 If aught should his return delay, 
 
 He only named yon holy fane 
 
 As fitting place to meet again. 
 5 Be sure he's safe; and for the Graeme, — 
 
 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? 
 10 Think of the stranger at the isle. 
 
 And think upon the harpings slow. 
 
 That presaged this approaching woe! 
 
 Sooth was my prophecy of fear; 
 
 Believe it when it augurs cheer. 
 15 Would we had left this dismal spot! 
 
 Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot. 
 
 Of such a wondrous tale I know — 
 
 Dear lady, change that look of woe, 
 
 My harp was wont thy grief to cheer." 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 20 "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. 
 
CANTO FOURTH 81 
 
 ALICE BRAND 
 
 Merry it is in the good greenwood, 
 
 When the mavis and merle are singing, 
 
 When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, 
 And the hunter's horn is ringing. 
 
 5 "O AHce Brand, my native land 
 Is lost for love of you; 
 And we must hold by wood and wold. 
 As outlaws wont to do. 
 
 "O Alice, 't was all for thy locks so bright, 
 10 And 't was all for thine eyes so blue. 
 That on the night of our luckless flight, 
 Thy brother bold I slew. 
 
 "Now must I teach to hew the beech 
 The hand that held the glaive, 
 15 For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 
 And stakes to fence our cave. 
 
 "And for vest of pall, thy fingers small, 
 
 That wont on harp to stray, 
 A cloak must shear from the slaughter'd deer, 
 20 To keep the cold away." — 
 
 "O Richard! if my brother died, 
 
 'T was but a fatal chance; 
 For darkling was the battle tried, 
 
 And fortune sped the lance. 
 
 25 "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. 
 
82 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 "And, Richard, if our lot be heard, 
 30 And lost thy native land, 
 Still Alice has her own Richard, 
 And he his Alice Brand." 
 
 XIII 
 IBallab — Qlmttttiup& 
 
 'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood, 
 So blithe Lady Alice is singing; 
 
 On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, 
 Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 
 
 5 Up spoke the moody Elfin King, 
 Who wonn'd within the hill, — 
 Like wind in the porch of a ruin'd church, 
 His voice was ghostly shrill. 
 
 "Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, 
 10 Our moonlight circle's screen ? 
 Or who comes here to chase the deer, 
 
 Beloved of our Elfin Queen? 
 Or who may dare on wold to wear 
 
 The fairies' fatal green ? 
 
 15 "Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie. 
 For thou wert christen'd man; 
 For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, 
 For mutter'd word or ban. 
 
 "Lay on him the curse of the wither'd heart, 
 20 The curse of the sleepless eye; 
 
 Till he wish and pray that his life would part. 
 Nor yet find leave to die." 
 
CANTO FOURTH 83 
 
 XIV 
 iHallttb — Qlonttttupb 
 
 'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood, 
 Though the birds have still'd their singing; 
 
 The evening blaze doth Ahce raise. 
 And Richard is fagots bringing. 
 
 5 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." 
 
 10 But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 
 That woman void of fear, — 
 "And if there's blood upon his hand, 
 'T is but the blood of deer." — 
 
 "Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood! 
 15 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, — 
 20 "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, 
 25 And what thine errand here?" — 
 
 XV 
 
 ^allab — OInnlinufli 
 
 "'T is merry, 't is merry, in Fairy-land 
 When fairy birds are singing, 
 
84 ' THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 When the court doth ride by their monarch's side, 
 With bit and bridle ringing: 
 
 5 "And gaily shines the Fairy-land — 
 But all is glistening show, 
 Like the idle gleam that December's beam 
 Can dart on ice and snow. 
 
 "And fading, like that varied gleam, 
 10 Is our inconstant shape, 
 
 Who now like knight and lady seem. 
 And now like dwarf and ape. 
 
 "It was between the night and day, 
 
 When the Fairy King has power, 
 
 15 That I sunk down in a sinful fray. 
 
 And, 'twixt life and death, was snatch'd away 
 To the joyless Elfin bower. 
 
 "But wist I of a woman bold. 
 Who thrice my brow durst sign, 
 20 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, 
 25 The darker grew the cave. 
 
 She cross'd him trice, that lady bold; 
 
 He rose beneath her hand 
 The fairest knight on Scottish mould. 
 
 Her brother, Ethert Brand! 
 
 30 Merry it is in good greenwood. 
 
 When the mavis and merle are singing, 
 But merrier were they in Dunfermline grey. 
 When all the bells were ringing. 
 
CANTO FOURTH 85 
 
 XVI 
 
 Just as the minstrel sounds were staid, 
 
 A stranger climb'd the steepy glade; 
 
 His martial step, his stately mien, 
 
 His hunting suit of Lincoln green, 
 5 His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 
 
 'T is Snowdoun's Knight, 't is James Fitz-James. 
 
 Ellen beheld as in a dream. 
 
 Then, starting, scarce suppress'd a scream: 
 
 "O stranger! in such hour of fear, 
 10 What evil hap has brought thee here?" — 
 
 "An evil hap how can it be. 
 
 That bids me look again on thee? 
 
 By promise bound, my former guide 
 
 Met me betimes this morning tide, 
 15 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! 
 20 Nor saw I aught could augur scathe." — 
 
 "O haste thee, Allan, to the kern, 
 
 — Yonder his tartans I discern; 
 
 Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 
 
 That he will guide the stranger sure! — 
 25 What prompted thee, unhappy man? 
 
 The meanest serf in Roderick's clan 
 
 Had not been bribed by love or fear. 
 
 Unknown to him to guide thee here." — 
 
 xvn 
 
 "Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be 
 vSince it is worthy care from thee; 
 Yet life I hold but idle breath, 
 When love or honour's weigh'd with death. 
 5 Then let me profit by my chance. 
 And speak my purpose bold at once. 
 
86 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 I come to bear thee from a wild, 
 
 Where ne'er before such blossom smiled; 
 
 By this soft hand to lead thee far 
 10 From frantic scenes of feud and war. 
 
 Near Bochastle my horses wait; 
 
 They bear us soon to Stirling gate. 
 
 I'll place thee in a lovely bower, 
 
 I'll guard thee like a tender flower" — 
 15 "O! 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, 
 20 In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track; 
 
 And how, O how, can I atone 
 
 The wreck my vanity brought on ! — 
 
 One way remains — I'll tell him all — 
 
 Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall! 
 25 Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, 
 
 Buy thine own pardon with thy shame! 
 
 But first — my father is a man 
 
 Outlaw'd and exiled, under ban; 
 
 The price of blood is on his head, 
 30 With me 'twere infamy to wed. — 
 
 Still wouldst thou speak ? — then hear the truth ! 
 
 Fitz-James, there is a noble youth, — 
 
 If yet he is ! — exposed for me 
 
 And mine to dread extremity — 
 35 Thou hast the secret of my heart; 
 
 Forgive, be generous, and depart!" 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Fitz-James knew every wily train 
 A lady's fickle heart to gain. 
 But here he knew and felt them vain. 
 There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, 
 5 To give her steadfast speech the lie; 
 
CANTO FOURTH 87 
 
 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, 
 10 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, 
 15 As brother would a sister guide. — 
 
 "O! little know'st thou Roderick's hearti 
 
 Safer for both we go apart. 
 
 O haste thee, and from Allan learn, 
 
 If thou may'st trust yon wily kern." 
 20 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, 
 5 And bade, when I had boon to crave, 
 
 To bring it back, and boldly claim 
 
 The recompense that I would name. 
 
 Ellen, I am no courtly lord. 
 
 But one who lives by lance and sword, 
 10 Whose castle is his helm and shield. 
 
 His lordship the embattled field. 
 
 What from a prince can I demand, 
 
 Who neither reck of state nor land ? 
 
 Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine; 
 15 Each guard and usher knows the sign. 
 
 Seek thou the king without delay; 
 
 This signet shall secure thy way; 
 
88 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, 
 
 As ransom of his pledge to me." 
 20 He placed the golden circlet on, 
 
 Paused — kiss'd her hand — and then was gone. 
 
 The aged Minstrel stood aghast, 
 
 So hastily Fitz-James shot past. 
 
 He join'd his guide, and wending down 
 25 The ridges of the mountain brown. 
 
 Across the stream they took their way, 
 
 That joins Loch Katrine to Achray. 
 
 XX 
 
 All in the Trosachs' glen was still, 
 Noontide was sleeping on the hill: 
 Sudden his guide whoop'd loud and high — 
 "Murdoch! was that a signal cry?" — 
 5 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 
 10 We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. — 
 Murdoch, move first — but silently; 
 Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!" 
 Jealous and sullen on they fared, 
 Each silent, each upon his guard. 
 
 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, 
 5 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. 
 
CANTO FOU'RTH 80 
 
 10 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, 
 15 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 ; 
 20 And then her hands she wildly wrung. 
 
 And then she wept, and then she sung — 
 
 She sung! — the voice, in better time. 
 
 Perchance to harp or lute might chime; 
 
 And now, though strain'd and roughen'd, still 
 25 Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. 
 
 XXII 
 
 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. 
 5 But were I now where Allan glides, 
 
 Or heard my native Devan's tides. 
 
 So sweetly would I rest, and pray 
 
 That Heaven would close my wintry dayl 
 
 'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid, 
 10 They made me to the church repair; 
 It was my bridal morn they said. 
 
 And my true love would meet me there. 
 But woe betide the cruel guile. 
 That drown'd in blood the morning smile ! 
 15 And woe betide the fairy dream ! 
 I only waked to sob and scream. 
 
90 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXIII 
 
 "Who is this maid ? what means her lay? 
 
 She hovers o'er the hollow way, 
 
 And flutters wide her mantle grey, 
 
 As the lone heron spreads his wing, 
 5 By twilight, o'er a haunted spring." 
 
 '"T is Blanche of Devan," Murdioch said, 
 
 "A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 
 
 Ta'en on the morn she was a bride. 
 
 When Roderick foray'd Devan-side. 
 10 The gay bridegroom resistance made. 
 
 And felt our Chief's unconquer'd blade. 
 
 I marvel she is now at large 
 
 But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin'.s charge. — 
 
 Hence, brain-sick fool!" — He raised his bow: — 
 15 "Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow, 
 
 I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far 
 
 As ever peasant pitch'd a bar!" — 
 
 "Thanks, champion, thanks!" the INIaniac cried. 
 
 And press'd her to Fitz-James's side. 
 20 "See the grey pennons I prepare. 
 
 To seek my true love through the air! 
 
 I will not lend that savage groom. 
 
 To break his fall, one tlowny plume! 
 
 No! — deep amid disjointed stones, 
 25 The wolves shall batten on his bones. 
 
 And then shall his detested plaid. 
 
 By bush and brier in mid air staid, 
 
 Wave forth a banner fair and free. 
 
 Meet signal for their revelry." — 
 
 XXIV 
 
 "Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still!" — 
 "O! thou look'st kindly, and I will. — 
 Mine eye has dried and wasted been, 
 But still it loves the Lincoln green ; 
 5 And, though mine ear is all unstrung, 
 Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 
 
CANTO FOURIH 91 
 
 "For O my sweet William was forester true. 
 
 He stole poor Blanche's heart away! 
 
 His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, 
 
 10 And so blithely he trill'd the Lowland lay! 
 
 "It was not that I meant to tell . . . 
 But thou art wise and guessest well." 
 Then, in a low and broken tone. 
 And hurried note, the song went on. 
 15 Still on the Clansman, fearfully, 
 She fix'd 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. 
 
 5 "It was a stag, a stag of ten. 
 Bearing its branches sturdily; 
 He came stately down the glen. 
 Ever sing hardily, hardily. 
 
 "It was there he met with a wounded doe, 
 10 She was bleeding deathfully; 
 She warn'd him of the toils below, 
 O, so faithfully, faithfully! 
 
 "He had an eye, and he could heed, 
 Ever sing warily, warily; 
 15 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; 
 
92 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, 
 And Blanche's song conviction brought. — 
 5 Not hke a stag that spies the snare, 
 But Hon of the hunt aware, 
 He waved at once his blade on high, 
 "Disclose thy treachery, or die!" 
 Forth at full speed the Clansman flew, 
 
 10 But in his race his bow he drew. 
 
 The shaft just grazed Fitz- James's crest. 
 And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast.— 
 Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed, 
 For ne'er had Alpine's son such need! 
 
 15 With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 
 The fierce avenger is behind ! 
 Fate judges of the rapid strife — 
 The forfeit death — the prize is life! 
 Thy kindred ambush lies before, 
 
 20 Close couch'd upon the heathery moor; 
 Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not be — 
 Thine ambush'd kin thou ne'er shalt see, 
 The fiery Saxon gains on thee! 
 — Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, 
 
 25 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; 
 
 30 Then slower wended back his way. 
 Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 
 
 XXVII 
 
 She sate beneath a birchen-tree, 
 Her elbow resting on her knee; * 
 She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, 
 And gazed on it, and feebly laugh'd ; 
 5 Her wreath of broom and feathers grey. 
 Daggled with blood, beside her lay. 
 
CANTO FOURTH 93 
 
 The Knight to staunch the life-stream tried, — 
 
 "Stranger, it is in vain!" she cried. 
 
 "This hour of death has given me more 
 10 Of reason's power than years before; 
 
 For, as these ebbing veins decay, 
 
 My frenzied visions fade away. 
 
 A helpless injured wretch I die. 
 
 And something tells me in thine eye, 
 15 That thou wert mine avenger born. — 
 
 Seest thou this tress? — O! still I've worn 
 
 This little tress of yellow hair, 
 
 Through danger, frenzy, and despair! 
 
 It once was bright and clear as thine, 
 20 But blood and tears have dimm'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, 
 25 Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, 
 
 And thou wilt bring it me again. — 
 
 I waver still. — O God! more bright 
 
 Let reason beam her parting light! — 
 
 O ! by thy knighthood's honour'd sign, 
 30 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, 
 35 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 . . . O God! . . . farewell." 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 A kindly heart had brave Fitz- James; 
 Fast pour'd his eyes at pity's claims, 
 And now, with mingled grief and ire. 
 He saw the murder'd maid expire. 
 
94 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 5 "God, in my need, be my relief, 
 As I wreak this on yonder Chief!" 
 A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 
 He blended with her bridegroom's hair; 
 The mingled braid in blood he dyed, 
 
 10 And placed it on his bonnet-side: 
 
 "By Him whose word is truth! I swear, 
 
 No other favour will I wear. 
 
 Till this sad token I imbrue 
 
 In the best blood of Roderick Dhu! 
 
 15 — 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, 
 
 20 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, 
 
 25 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 
 
 30 Would muster up in swarms so soon 
 As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ? — 
 Like bloodhounds now they search me out, — 
 Hark, to the whistle and the shout ! — 
 K further through the wilds I go, 
 
 35 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 wrapped in deeper brown, 
 The owl awakens from her dell, 
 The fox is heard upon the fell ; 
 
CANTO FOURTH 95 
 
 5 Enough remains of glimmering light 
 
 To guide the wanderer's steps aright, 
 
 Yet not enough from far to show 
 
 His figure to the watchful foe. 
 
 With cautious step, and ear awake, 
 10 He climbs the crag and threads the brake; 
 
 And not the summer solstice, there. 
 
 Tempered the midnight mountain air, 
 
 But every breeze, that swept the wold, 
 
 Benumb'd his drenched limbs with cold. 
 15 In dread, in danger, and alone, 
 
 Famish'd and chill'd, through ways unknown, 
 
 Tangled and steep, be 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!" 
 5 "A stranger." "What dost thou require?" — 
 "Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 
 My life's be>et, my path is lost, 
 The gale has chill'd my limbs with frost." — 
 "Art thou a friend to Roderick?" "No." 
 
 10 "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, 
 
 15 Though space and law the stag we lend. 
 Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend. 
 Who ever reck'd, where, how, or when. 
 The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain ? 
 Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie, 
 
 20 Who say thou camest a secret spy!" — 
 
96 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 "They do, by heaven! — Come Roderick Dhu, 
 
 And of his clan the boldest two, 
 
 And let me but till morning rest, 
 
 I write the falsehood on their crest." 
 
 25 "If by the blaze I mark aright. 
 
 Thou bearest the belt and spur of Knight." 
 "Then by these tokens may'st thou know 
 Each proud oppressor's mortal foe." — 
 "Enough, enough; sit down and share 
 
 30 A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." 
 
 XXXI 
 
 He gave him of his Highland cheer, 
 The harden'd flesh of mountain deer; 
 Dry fuel on the fire he laid. 
 And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 
 5 He tended him like welcome guest. 
 Then thus his further speech address'd: — 
 "Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu 
 A clansman born, a kinsman true; 
 Each word against his honour spoke, 
 
 10 Demands of me avenging stroke; 
 Yet more, — upon thy fate, 't is said, 
 A mighty augury is laid. 
 It rests with me to wind my horn, — 
 Thou art with numbers overborne; 
 
 15 It rests with me, here, brand to brand 
 Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand : 
 But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause, 
 Will I depart from honour's laws; 
 To assail a wearied man were shame, 
 
 20 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, 
 
 25 O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward. 
 Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard, 
 
CANTO FOURTH 07 
 
 As far as Coilantogle's ford; 
 
 From thence thy warrant is thy sword." 
 
 "I take thy courtesy, by heaven, 
 
 30 As freely as 't is nobly given!" 
 
 "Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry 
 Sings us the lake's wild lullaby." 
 With that he shook the gather'd heath, 
 And spread his plaid upon the wreath; 
 
 35 And the brave foenien, side by side. 
 Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, 
 And slept until the dawning beam 
 Purpled the mountain and the stream. 
 
98 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 CANTO FIFTH 
 
 Sltjp Qlnmbat 
 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, 
 5 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, 
 5 Look'd out upon the dappled sky, 
 
 Mutter'd their soldier matins by. 
 
 And then awaked their fire, to steal, 
 
 As short and rude, their soldier meal. 
 
 That o'er, the Gael around him threw 
 10 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, 
 15 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; 
 
CANTO FIFTH 
 
 Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance 
 20 Gain'd not the length of horseman's lance. 
 'T was oft so steep, the foot was fain 
 Assistance from the hand to gain ; 
 So tangled oft, that, bursting through. 
 Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew, — 
 25 That diamond dew, so pure and clear, 
 It rivals all but Beauty's tear! 
 
 Ill 
 
 At length they came where, stern and steep, 
 The hill sinks down upon the deep. 
 Here Vennachar in silver flows. 
 There, ridge on ridge, Bcnledi rose; 
 5 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 
 
 10 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. 
 
 15 But where the lake slept deep and still. 
 Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill; 
 And oft both path and hill were torn, 
 Where wintry torrents down had borne, 
 And heap'd upon the cumber'd land 
 
 20 Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 
 So toilsome was the road to trace, 
 The guide, abating of his pace. 
 Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 
 And ask'd Fitz-James, by what strange cause 
 
 25 He sought these wilds ? traversed by few. 
 Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 
 
 99 
 
100 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 IV 
 
 "Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried, 
 Hangs in my belt, and by my side; 
 Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said, 
 "I dreamt not now to claim its aid. 
 5 When here, but three days since, I came, 
 Bewilder'd in pursuit of game. 
 All seem'd as peaceful and as still. 
 As the mist slumbering on yon hill; 
 Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, 
 
 10 Nor soon expected back from war. 
 
 Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide, 
 Though deep perchance the villain lied."- 
 "Yet why a second venture try?" — 
 "A warrior thou, and ask me why! — 
 
 15 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 
 
 20 A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — 
 A falcon flown, a greyhound stray'd. 
 The merry glance of mountain maid: 
 Or, if a path be dangerous known. 
 The danger's self is lure alone." — 
 
 "Thy secret keep, I urge thee not; — 
 Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, 
 Say, heard ye nought of Lowland war. 
 Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar?" 
 
 5 — "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, 
 
 10 Which else in Doune had peaceful hung."- 
 
CANTO FIFTH 101 
 
 "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. 
 15 But, Stranger, peaceful since you came, 
 
 Bewilder'd in the mountain game, 
 
 Whence the bold boast by which yon show 
 
 Vich-Alpine's vow'd and mortal foe?" — 
 
 "Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew 
 20 Nought of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 
 
 Save as an outlaw'd desperate man. 
 
 The chief of a rebellious clan. 
 
 Who, in the Regent's court and sight. 
 
 With ruffian dagger stabb'd a knight: 
 25 Yet this alone might from his part 
 
 Sever each true and loyal heart." 
 
 VI 
 
 Wrothful at such arraignment foul. 
 
 Dark lower'd the clansman's sable scowl. 
 
 A space he paused, then sternly said, 
 
 "And heard'st thou why he drew his blade? 
 5 Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow 
 
 Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe ? 
 
 What reck'd the Chieftain if he stood 
 
 On Highland heath, or Holy-Rood? 
 
 He rights such wrong where it is given, 
 10 If it were in the court of heaven." — 
 
 "Still was it outrage; — yet, 't is true, 
 
 Not then claim'd sovereignty his due; 
 
 While Albany, with feeble hand, 
 
 Held borrow'd truncheon of command, 
 15 The young King, mew'd in Stirling tower, 
 
 Was stranger to respect and power. 
 
 But then, thy Chieftain's robber life! — 
 
 Winning mean prey by causeless strife, 
 
 Wrenching from ruin'd Lowland swain 
 20 His herds and harvest reared in vain. — 
 
102 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Methinks a soul, like thine, should scorn 
 The spoils from such foul foray borne." 
 
 VII 
 
 The Gael beheld him grim the while, 
 And answer'd with disdainful smile, — 
 "Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
 I mark'd thee send delighted eye, 
 5 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, 
 
 10 Were once the birthright of the Gael ; 
 The stranger came with iron hand. 
 And from our fathers reft the land. 
 Where dwell we now! See, rudely swell 
 Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 
 
 15 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, 
 
 20 Belong the target and claymore! 
 I give you shelter in my breast. 
 Your own good blades must win the rest.' 
 Pent in this fortress of the North, 
 Think'st thou we will not sally forth, 
 
 25 To spoil the spoiler as we may. 
 And from the robber rend the prey? 
 Ay, by my soul ! — W^hile on yon plain 
 The Saxon rears one shock of grain; 
 While, of ten thousand herds, there strays 
 
 30 But one along yon river's maze, — 
 The Gael, of plain and river heir. 
 Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. 
 Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold 
 That plundering Lowland field and fold 
 
CANTO FIFTH 103 
 
 35 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?" — 
 5 "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; 
 10 But secret path marks secret foe. 
 
 Nor yet, for this, even as a spy, 
 
 Hadst thou, unheard, been doom'd to die. 
 
 Save to fulfil an augury. "^ — 
 
 "Well, let it pass; nor will I now 
 15 Fresh cause of enmity avow. 
 
 To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. 
 
 Enough, I am by promise tied 
 
 To match me with this man of pride: 
 
 Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen 
 20 In 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, 
 25 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. 
 
104 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 5 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, 
 10 The bracken bush sends forth the dart, 
 
 The rushes and willow-wand 
 
 Are bristling into axe and brand. 
 
 And every tuft of broom gives life 
 
 To plaided warrior arm'd for strife. 
 15 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, 
 20 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, 
 25 With step and weapon forward flung. 
 
 Upon the mountain-side they hung. 
 
 The Mountaineer cast glance of pride 
 
 Along Benledi's living side. 
 
 Then fix'd his eye and sable brow 
 30 Full on Fitz- James — "How say'st thou now? 
 
 These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true; 
 
 And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu!" 
 
 X 
 
 Fitz- James was brave: — Though to his heart 
 The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start. 
 He mann'd himself with dauntless air, 
 Return'd the Chief his haughty stare, 
 5 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 L" 
 
CANTO FIFTH IO5 
 
 Sir Roderick mark'd — and in his eyes 
 10 Respect 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; 
 15 Each warrior vanish'd where he stood, 
 
 In broom or bracken, heath or wood; 
 
 Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 
 
 In osiers pale and copses low; 
 
 It seemed as if their mother Earth 
 20 Had swallow'd up her warlike birth. 
 
 The wind's last breath had toss'd in air, 
 
 Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair, — 
 
 The next but swept a lone hill-side, 
 
 Where heath and fern were waving wide: 
 25 The sun's last glance was glinted back, 
 
 From spear and glaive, from targe and jack, — 
 
 The ne.xt, all unreflected,, shone 
 
 On bracken green, and cold grey stone. 
 
 XI 
 
 Fitz-James look'd round — yet scarce believed 
 
 The witness that his sight received; 
 
 Such apparition well might seem 
 
 Delusion of a dreadful dream. 
 5 Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 
 
 x\nd 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 
 10 As far as Coilantogje ford: 
 
 Nor would I call a clansman's brand 
 
 For aid against one valiant hand, 
 
 Though on our strife lay every vale 
 
 Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 
 15 So move we on; — I only meant 
 
 To show the reed on which you leant, 
 
106 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Deeming this path you might pursue 
 Without a pass from Roderick Dhu." 
 They moved : — I said Fitz-James was brave, 
 
 20 As ever knight that behed 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, 
 
 25 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 
 
 30 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. 
 
 35 Nor breathed he free till far behind 
 The pass was left; for then they wind • 
 Along'a wide and level green. 
 Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, 
 Nor rush nor bush of broom was near, 
 
 40 To hide a bonnet or a spear. 
 
 XII 
 
 The Chief in silence strode before. 
 And reached that torrent's sounding shore, 
 Which, daughter of three mighty lake.'^. 
 From Vennachar in silver breaks, 
 
 5 Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 
 On Bochastle the mouldering Unes, 
 Where Rome, the Empress of the world. 
 Of yore her eagle wings unfurl'd. 
 And here his course the Chieftain staid, 
 
 10 Threw down his target and his plaid. 
 And to the Lowland warrior said — 
 
CANTO FIFTH 107 
 
 "Bold Saxon! to his promise just, 
 
 Vich-Alpine has discharged his trvist. 
 
 This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, 
 15 This head of a rebelHous elan. 
 
 Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward. 
 
 Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 
 
 Now, man to man, and steel to sted, 
 
 A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 
 20 See, here, all vantageless I stand, 
 
 Arm'd, like thyself, with single brand: 
 
 For this is Coilantogle ford, 
 
 And thou must keep thee with thy sword." 
 
 XIII 
 
 The Saxon paused: — "I ne'er delay 'd, 
 
 When foeman bade me draw my blade; 
 
 Nay more, brave Chief, I vow'd thy deatli: 
 
 Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, 
 5 And my deep debt for life preserved, 
 
 A better meed have well deserved: 
 
 Can nought but blood our feud atone? 
 
 Are there no means?" — "No, Stranger, none! 
 
 And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal, — 
 10 The Saxon cause rests on thy steel; 
 
 For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred 
 
 Between the living and the dead; 
 
 'Who spills the foremost foeman's life. 
 
 His party conquers in the strife.'" 
 15 "Then, by my word," the Saxon said, 
 
 "The riddle is already read. 
 
 Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — 
 
 There lies Red INIurdoch, stark and stitf. 
 
 Thus Fate has solved her prophecy; 
 20 Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 
 
 To James, at Stirling, let us go. 
 
 When, if thou wilt be still his foe. 
 
 Or if the King shall not agree 
 
 To grant thee grace and favour free, 
 
108 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 25 I plight mine honour, oath, and word, 
 That, to thy native strengths restored, 
 With each advantage shalt thou stand. 
 That aids thee now to guard thy hmd." 
 
 XIV 
 
 Dark Hghtning flash'd from Roderick's eye — 
 "Soars thy presumption, then, so high, 
 Because a wretched kern ye slew, 
 Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ? 
 
 5 He yields not, he, to man nor Fate ! 
 Thou add'st but fuel to my hate: — 
 My clansman's blood demands revenge. 
 Not yet prepared ? — By heaven, I change 
 My thought, and hold thy valour light 
 
 10 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 word 
 
 15 It nerves my heart, it steels my sword 
 For I have sworn this braid to stain 
 In the best blood that wanns thy vein. 
 Now, truce, farewell! and, ruth, begone! — 
 Yet think not that by thee alone, 
 
 20 Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown; 
 
 Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn. 
 Start at my whistle clansmen stern. 
 Of this small horn one feeble blast 
 Would fearful odds against thee cast. 
 
 25 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, 
 
 30 As what they ne'er might see again; 
 Then foot, and point, and eye opposed. 
 In dubious strife they darkly closed. 
 
CANTO FIFTH 109 
 
 XV 
 
 111 fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 
 
 That on the field his targe he threw, 
 
 Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
 
 Had death so often dash'd aside; 
 5 For, train'd abroad his arms to wield, 
 
 Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 
 
 He practised every pass and ward, 
 
 To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; 
 
 While less expert, though stronger far, 
 10 The Gael maintain'd unequal war. 
 
 Three times in closing strife they stood. 
 
 And thrice the vSaxon blade drank blood; 
 
 No stinted draught, no scanty tide, 
 
 The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 
 15 Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain. 
 
 And shower'd his blows like wintry rain; 
 
 And, as firm rock, or castle-roof. 
 
 Against the winter shower is proof, 
 
 The foe, invulnerable still, 
 20 Foil'd his wild rage by steady skill; 
 
 Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 
 
 Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 
 
 And backward borne upon the lea, 
 
 Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 
 
 XVI 
 
 "Now, yield thee, or by Him who made 
 
 The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!" — 
 
 "Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! 
 
 Let recreant yield, who fears to die." 
 5 — Like adder darting from his coil. 
 
 Like wolf that dashes through the toil. 
 
 Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 
 
 Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung* 
 
 Received, but reck'd not of a wound, 
 10 And lock'd his arms his foeman round.— 
 
no THj: LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! 
 No maiden's hand is round thee thrown! 
 That desperate grasp thy frame might feci, 
 Through bars of brass and triple steel! — 
 
 15 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, 
 
 20 Across his brow his hand he drew. 
 From blood and mist to clear his sight, 
 Then gleam'd aloft his dagger briglit! — 
 — But hate and fury ill supplied 
 The stream of life's exhausted tide, 
 
 25 And all too late the advantage came. 
 To turn the odds of deadly game; 
 For, while the dagger gleam'd on high, 
 Reel'd soul and sense, reel'd brain and eye. 
 Down came the blow! but in the heath 
 
 30 The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 
 The struggling foe may now unclasp 
 The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp; 
 Unwounded from the dreadful close. 
 But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 
 
 xvn 
 
 He falter'd thanks to Heaven for life, 
 Redeem'd, unhoped, from desperate strife; 
 Next on his foe his look he cast. 
 Whose every gasp appear'd his last; 
 
 5 In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid, — 
 "Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid: 
 Yet with thy foe must die, or live, 
 The praise that faith and valour give." 
 With that he blew a bugle-note, 
 
 10 Undid the collar from his throat, 
 Unbonneted, and by the wave 
 Sate down his brow and hands to lave. 
 
CANTO FIFTH m 
 
 Then faint afar are heard the feet 
 Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet; 
 
 15 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, 
 
 20 And by Fitz-James rein'd up his horse, — 
 With wonder view'd the bloody spot — 
 — "Exclaim not, gallants! question not. — 
 You, Herbert and Lufi'ness, alight. 
 And bind the wounds of yonder knight; 
 
 25 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. 
 
 30 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. 
 
 XVIIl 
 
 "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. 
 
 5 No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid. 
 No grasp upon the saddle laid. 
 But wreath'd his left hand in the mane, 
 And lightly bounded from the plain, 
 Turn'd on the horse his armed heel, 
 
 10 And stirr'd his courage with the steel. 
 Bounded the fiery steed in air, 
 The rider sate erect and fair, 
 Then like a bolt from steel crossbow 
 Forth launch'd, along the plain they go. 
 
112 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 15 They dasli'd that rapid torrent through, 
 And up Carhonie's hill they flew; 
 Still at the gallop prick'd the Knight, 
 His merry-men i'ollow'd as they might. 
 Along thy banks, swift Teith ! they ride, 
 
 20 And in the raee they mock thy tide; 
 Torry and Lendrick now are })ast, 
 And Deanstown lies behind them cast; 
 They rise, the banner'd towers of Doune, 
 They sink in distant woodland soon ; 
 
 25 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 courser's sweltering sides, 
 
 30 Dark Forth! amid thy sluggish tides, 
 And on the opposing shore take ground, 
 With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 
 Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-ForthI 
 And soon the bulwark of the North, 
 
 35 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 signed to his squire he flung, 
 
 Who instant to his stirrup sprung: — 
 5 "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 ? 
 10 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." — 
 
CANTO FIFTH 113 
 
 "Out, out, De Vaux! can fear supply. 
 15 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. 
 20 'T is James of Douglas, by Saint Serlel 
 
 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; 
 25 Douglas and he must meet preparetl." 
 
 Then right-hand wheel'd their steeds, and straight 
 
 They won the castle's postern gate. 
 
 XX 
 
 The Douglas, who had bent his way 
 
 From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey grey, 
 
 Now, as he climb'd the rocky shelf, 
 
 Held sad communion with himself: — 
 5 "Yes! all is true my fears could frame; 
 
 A prisoner lies the noble Grseme, 
 
 -\nd fiery Roderick soon will feel 
 
 The vengeance of the royal steel. 
 
 I, only I, can ward their fate, — 
 10 God grant the ransom come not latel 
 
 The Abbess hath her promise given, 
 
 My child shall be the bride of heaven; — 
 
 — Be pardon'd one repining tear! 
 
 For He, who gave her, knows how dear, 
 15 How excellent! — but that is by. 
 
 And now my business is — to die. 
 
 Ye tow^ers! within whose circuit dread 
 
 A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; 
 
 And thou, O sad and fatal mound! 
 20 That oft has heard the death-axe sound, 
 
 As on the noblest of the land 
 
 Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand, — 
 
114 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 
 Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom ! 
 
 25 — But hark! what blithe and jolly peal 
 Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ? 
 And see! uj^on the crowded street, 
 In motley groups \\'hat masquers meet! 
 Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, 
 
 30 And merry morrice-dancers come. 
 I guess, by all this quaint array, 
 The burghers hold their sports to-day. 
 James will be there; he loves such show, 
 Where the good yeoman bends his bow, 
 
 35 And the tough wrestler foils his foe. 
 As well as where, in proud career. 
 The high-born tilter shivers spear. 
 I'll follow to the Castle-park, 
 And play my prize; — King James shall mark, 
 
 40 If age has tamed these sinews stark. 
 Whose force so oft, in happier days. 
 His boyish wonder loved to praise." 
 
 XXI 
 
 The Castle gates were open flung. 
 
 The quivering drawbridge rock'd and rung. 
 
 And echo'd loud the flinty street 
 
 Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, 
 5 As slowly down the steep descent 
 
 Fair Scotland's King and nobles went. 
 
 While all along the crowded way 
 
 Was jubilee and loud huzza, 
 
 And ever James was bending low, 
 10 To his white jennet's saddle-bow, 
 
 Doffing his cap to city dame. 
 
 Who smiled and blush'd for priile and shame. 
 
 And well the simperer might be vain, — 
 
 He chose the fairest of the train. 
 15 Gravely he greets each city sire. 
 
 Commends each pageant's quaint attire, 
 
CANTO FIFTH 
 
 Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, 
 And smiles and nods upon the crowd, 
 Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, 
 
 20 "Long hve 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. 
 
 25 — But in the train you might discern 
 Dark lowering brow and visage stern ; 
 There nobles inourn'd their pride rcstrain'd, 
 And the mean burgher's joys disdain'd; 
 And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, 
 
 30 Were each from home a banish'd man, 
 There thought upon their own grey tower, 
 Their waving woods, their feudal power. 
 And deem'd themselves a shameful part 
 Of pageant which they cursed in heart. 
 
 XXII 
 
 Now, in the Castle-park, drew out 
 
 Their chetjuer'd bands the joyous rout. 
 
 There morricers, with bell at heel. 
 
 And blade in hand, their mazes wheel ; 
 5 But chief, beside the butts, there stand 
 
 Bold Robin Hood and all his band, — 
 
 Friar Tuck with cjuarterstaff and cowl, 
 
 Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, 
 
 Maid Marion, fair as ivory bone, 
 10 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 centred iri the white, 
 15 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; 
 
 115 
 
116 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Fondly he watch'd, with watery eye, 
 20 Some answering glance of sympathy, — 
 No kind emotion made reply! 
 Indifferent as to archer wight, 
 The monarch gave the arrow bright. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Now, clear the ring I for, hand to hand, 
 The manly wrestlers take their stand. 
 Two o'er the rest superior rose, 
 And proud demanded mightier foes, • 
 5 Nor call'd in vain; for Douglas came. 
 — For life is Hugh of Larbert lame ; 
 Scarce better John of Allpa's fare, 
 Whom senseless home his comrades bear. 
 Prize of the wrestling match, the King 
 
 10 To Douglas gave a golden ring, 
 While coldly glancecl his eye of blue, 
 As frozen drop of wintry dew. 
 Douglas would speak, but in his breast 
 His struggling soul his words suppress'd; 
 
 15 Indignant than he turn'd him where 
 Their arms the brawny yeomen bare. 
 To hurl the massive bar in air. 
 When each his utmost strength had shown. 
 The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 
 
 20 From its deep bed, then heav'd 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, 
 
 25 To strangers point the Douglas-cast, 
 And moralize on the decay 
 Of Scottish strength in modern day. 
 
 XXIV 
 
 The vale with loud applauses rang. 
 The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang. 
 
CANTO FIFTH 117 
 
 The King, with look unmoved, bestow'd 
 
 A purse well-fill'd with pieces broad. 
 5 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, 
 10 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, 
 15 Of feats upon the English done. 
 
 Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 
 
 Was exiled from his native land. 
 
 The women praised his stately form, 
 
 Though wreck'd by many a winter's storm; 
 20 The yovith with awe and wonder saw 
 
 His strength surpassing Nature's law. 
 
 Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, 
 
 Till murmur rose to clamours loud. 
 
 But not a glance from that proud ring 
 25 Of peers who circled round the King 
 
 With Douglas held communion kind. 
 
 Or call'd the banish'd man to mind; 
 
 No, not from those who, at the chase, 
 
 Once held his side the honour'd place, 
 30 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 I 
 
 XXV 
 
 The Monarch saw the gambols flag. 
 
 And bade let loose a gallant stag. 
 
 Whose pride, the holiday to crown, 
 
 Two favourite greyhounds should pull down, 
 
118 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 5 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, — 
 
 10 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. 
 
 15 The King's stout huntsman saw the sport 
 By strange intruder broken short. 
 Came up, and with his leash unbound, 
 In anger struck the noble hound. 
 — The Douglas had endured, that morn, 
 
 20 The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn. 
 And last, and worst to spirit proud, 
 Had borne the pity of the crowd; 
 But Lufra had been fondly bred. 
 To share his board, to watch his bed, 
 
 25 And oft would Ellen Lufra's neck 
 In maiden glee with garlands deck; 
 They were such playmates, that with name 
 Of Lufra, Ellen's image came. 
 His stifled wrath is brimming high, 
 
 30 In darken'd brow and flashing eye; 
 As waves before the bark divide, 
 The crowd gave way before his stride; 
 Needs but a buffet and no more. 
 The groom lies senseless in his gore. 
 
 35 Such blow no other hand could deal, . 
 Though gauntleted in glove of steel. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 Then clamour'd loud the royal train. 
 And brandish'd swords and staves amain, 
 But stern the Baron's warning — "Back! 
 Back, on your lives, ye menial pack! 
 
CANTO FIFTH 119 
 
 5 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, 
 10 Nor craves thy grace but for his friends." — 
 
 "Thus in my clemency repaid? 
 
 Presumptuous Lord!" the monarch said; 
 
 "Of thy mis-proud ambitious clan, 
 
 Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, 
 15 The only man, in whom a foe 
 
 My woman-mercy would not know: 
 
 But shall a Monarch's presence brook 
 
 Injurious blow, and haughty look? — 
 
 What ho! the Captain of our (iuard! 
 20 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, 
 Repell'd-by threats and insult loud; 
 
 5 To earth are borne the old antl 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 
 
 10 The royal spears in circle deep. 
 And slowly scale the pathway steep; 
 W^hile on the rear in thunder pour 
 The rabble with disorder'd roar. 
 With grief the noble Douglas saw 
 
 15 The Commons rise against the law, 
 
120 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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 
 20 A word with these misguided men. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 "Hear, gentle friends! ere yet for me, 
 Ye break the bands of fealty. 
 My life, my honour, and my cause, 
 I tender free to Scotland's laws. 
 5 Are these so weak as must require 
 The aid of your misguided ire ? 
 Or, if I suffer causeless wrong. 
 Is then my selfish rage so strong. 
 My sense of public weal so low, 
 
 10 That, for mean vengeance on a foe. 
 Those cords of love I should unbind, 
 Which knit my country and my kind ? 
 Oh no! Believe, in yonder tower 
 It will not soothe my captive hour, 
 
 15 To know those spears our foes should dread, 
 For me in kindred gore are red; 
 To know, in fruitless brawl begun, 
 For me, that mother wails her son ; 
 For me, that widow's mate expires ; 
 
 20 For me, that orphans weep their sires; 
 That patriots mourn insulted laws, 
 And curse the Douglas for the cause. 
 O let your patience ward such ill. 
 And keep your right to love me still!" 
 
 XXIX 
 
 The crowd's wild fury sunk again 
 In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 
 With Ufted hands and eyes, they pray'd 
 For blessings on his generous head, 
 
CANTO FIFTH 121 
 
 5 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, 
 10 The self-devoted Chief to spy. 
 
 Triumphant over wrongs and ire. 
 
 To whom the prattlers owed a sire: 
 
 Even the rough soldier's heart was moved ; 
 
 As if behind some bier beloved, 
 15 With trailing arms and drooping head, 
 
 The Douglas up the hill he led. 
 
 And at the castle's battled verge. 
 
 With sighs resign'd his honour'd charge. 
 
 XXX 
 
 -The offended Monarch rode apart. 
 
 With bitter thought and swelling heart, 
 
 And would not now vouchsafe again 
 
 Through Stirling streets to lead his train. 
 5 "O Lennox, who would wish to rule 
 
 This changeling crowd, this common fool ? 
 
 Hear'st thou," he said, "the loud acclaim. 
 
 With which they shout the Douglas name ? 
 
 With like acclaim, the vulgar throat 
 10 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 iny seat. 
 15 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, 
 20 And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood. 
 
 Thou many-headed monster-thing, 
 
 O who could wish to be thy king! 
 
122 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXXI 
 
 "But soft! what messenger of speed 
 Spurs hitherward his panting steed ? 
 I guess his cognizance afar — 
 What from our cousin, John of Mar?" — 
 5 "He prays, my hege, 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, 
 
 10 Has summon'd his rebellious crew; 
 'T is said, in James of Bothwell's aid 
 These loose banditti stand array'd. 
 The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Dounc, 
 To break their muster march'd, and soon 
 
 15 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 look'd to this: 
 
 I lost it in this bustling day. 
 
 — Retrace with speed thy former way; 
 5 Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, 
 
 The best of mine shall be thy meed. 
 
 Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 
 
 We do forbid the intended war: 
 
 Roderick, this morning, in single fight, 
 10 Was made our prisoner by a knight; 
 
 And Douglas hath himself and cause 
 
 Submitted to our kingdom's laws. 
 
 The tidings of their leaders lost 
 
 Will soon dissolve the mountain host, 
 15 Nor would we that the vulgar feel, 
 
 For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. 
 
CANTO FIFTH 123 
 
 Bear Mar our message, Braco; flv!'' — 
 He turn'd his steed, — "My liege, I hie- 
 Yet, ere I cross this Uly lawn, 
 20 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 minstrel lay; 
 Soon were dismiss'd the courtly throng. 
 And soon cut short the festal song. 
 T) Nor less upon the sadden'd town 
 The evening sunk in sorrow down. 
 The burghers spoke of civil jar, 
 Of rumour'd feuds and mountain war, 
 Of INloray, IMar, and Roderick Dhu, 
 
 10 All up in arms: — the Douglas too. 
 
 They mourn'd him pent within the hold, 
 "Where stout Earl William was of old." 
 And there his word the speaker staid, 
 And finger on his lip he laid, 
 
 15 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; 
 
 20 At noon the deadly fray begun. 
 And lasted till the set of sun. 
 Thus giddy rumour shook the town. 
 Till closed the Night her pennons brown. 
 
124 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 CANTO SIXTH 
 
 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; 
 6 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. 
 
 10 What various scenes, and, 1 what scenes of woe, 
 Are witness'd by that red and struggling beam ! 
 The fever'd patient, from his pallet low, 
 
 Through crowded hospital beholds its stream ; 
 The ruin'd maiden trembles at its gleam, 
 15 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. 
 5 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. 
 
CANTO SIXTH I25 
 
 In comfortless alliance shone 
 10 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; 
 15 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; 
 20 Same labour'd still their thirst to quench; 
 
 Some, chill'd with watching, spread their hands 
 
 O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 
 
 While round them, or beside them flung, 
 
 At every step their harness rung. 
 
 Ill 
 
 These drew not for their fields the sword. 
 
 Like tenants of a feudal lord. 
 
 Nor own'd the patriarchal claim 
 
 Of Chieftain in their leader's name; 
 5 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 
 10 More freely breathed in mountain-air; 
 
 The Fleming there despised the soil. 
 
 That paid so ill the labourer's toil; 
 
 Their rolls show'd French and German name; 
 
 And merry England's exiles came, 
 15 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; 
 20 In pillage fierce and uncontroll'd; 
 
126 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 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; 
 5 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, neighbouring to the Court of Guard, 
 10 Their prayers and feverish wails were heard; 
 
 Sad burden to the ruffian joke, 
 
 And savage oath by fury spoke! — 
 
 At length up-started John of Brent, 
 
 A yeoman from the banks of Trent; 
 15 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. 
 20 He grieved, that day, their games cut short. 
 
 And marr'd the dicer's l^rawling sjiort. 
 
 And shouted loud, "Renew the bowl! 
 
 And, while a merry catch I troll. 
 
 Let each the buxom chorus bear, 
 25 Like brethren of the brand and spear." 
 
 V 
 
 Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule 
 Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny Ijrown bowl, 
 That there's wrath and despair in the jolly blackjack, 
 And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack; 
 
CANTO SIXTH 127 
 
 5 Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy Hquor, 
 Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar! 
 
 Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 
 The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip, 
 Says, that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so siv, 
 10 And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye; 
 Yet whoop, Jack! kiss Gillian the quicker, 
 Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar! 
 
 Our vicar thus preaches — and why should he not ? 
 For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot ; 
 15 And 't is right of his office poor laymen to lurch, 
 
 Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church. 
 Yet whoop, bully-boys! off with your liquor, 
 Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the vicar! 
 
 VI 
 
 The warder's challenge, hearu without, 
 
 Staid in mid-roar the merry shout. 
 
 A soldier to the portal went, — 
 
 "Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent; 
 5 And, — beat for jubilee the drum ! 
 
 A maid and 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 
 10 All muffled close, a mountain maid. 
 
 Who backward shrunk, to 'scape the view 
 
 Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 
 
 "What news?" they roar'd: — -"I only know, 
 
 From noon till eve we fought with foe, 
 15 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 
 20 As their must needs reward thy toil. 
 
128 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp; 
 Thou now hast glee-maidon 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, 
 
 5 Mar bade I should purvey them steed, 
 And bring them hitherward with speed. 
 Forbear your mirth and rude alarm. 
 For none shall do them shame or harm."- 
 " Hear ye his boast?" cried John of Brent, 
 
 10 Ever to strife and jangling bent; 
 
 "Shall he strike doe beside our lodge, 
 And yet the jealous niggard grudge 
 To pay the forester his fee ? 
 I'll have my share, howe'er it be, 
 
 15 Despite of INIoray, INIar, 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; 
 
 20 But Ellen boldly stepp'd bet\veen, 
 
 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, 
 
 25 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; 
 
CANTO SIXTH 129 
 
 Cheer'd him in camps, in marches led, 
 And with him in the battle bled. 
 5 Not from the valiant, or the strong, 
 Should exile's daughter suffer wrong." — 
 Answer'd De Brent, most foi*ward still 
 In every feat or good or ill, — 
 "I shame me of the part I play'd: 
 
 10 And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid! 
 An outlaw I by forest laws. 
 And merry Needwood knows the cause. 
 Poor Rose, — if Hose be living now," — 
 He wiped his iron eye and brow, — 
 
 15 "Must bear such age, 1 think, as thou. 
 Hear ye, my mates; — I go to call 
 The Captain of our watch to hall: 
 There lies my halberd on the floor; 
 And he that steps my lialberd o'er, 
 
 20 To do the nuiid injurious part, 
 
 My shaft shall quiver in his heart! — 
 Beware loose speech, or jesting rough: 
 Ye all know John de Brent. Enough." 
 
 IX 
 
 Their Captain came, a gallant young, — 
 (Of Tullibardine's house he sprung,) 
 Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight; 
 Gay was his mien, his humour light, 
 5 And, though by courtesy controll'd. 
 Forward hi.s speech, his bearing bold. 
 The high-born maiden ill could brook 
 The scanning of his curious look 
 And dauntless eye; — and yet, in sooth, 
 10 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. 
 
130 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 15 "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, 
 
 20 Or may the venture suit a squire ?" — 
 
 Her dark eye flash'd; — she paused arid sigh'd, 
 "O what have I to do with pride! — 
 — Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, 
 A suppliant for a father's life, 
 
 25 I crave an audience of the King. 
 Behold, to back my suit, a ring. 
 The royal pledge of greatful 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, 
 5 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 
 10 Repose you till his waking hour; 
 
 Female attendance shall obey 
 
 Your hest, for service or array. 
 
 Permit I marshal you the way." 
 
 But, ere she followed, with the grace 
 15 And open bounty of her race, 
 
 She bade her slender purse be shared 
 
 Among the soldiers of the guard. 
 
 The rest with thanks their guerdon took; 
 
 But Brent, with shy and awkward look, 
 20 On the reluctant maiden's hold 
 
 Forced bluntly back the profifer'd gold; — 
 
CANTO SIXTH 131 
 
 "Forgive a haughty English heart, 
 And O forget its ruder part! 
 The vacant purse shall be my share, 
 25 Which in my barret-cap I'll bear, 
 Perchance, in jeopardy of war, 
 Where gayer crests may keep afar." 
 With thanks, — 't was all she could — the nuiid 
 His rugged courtesy repaid. 
 
 XI 
 
 When Ellen forth with Lewis went, 
 Allan made suit to John of Brent; — 
 " My lady safe, O let your grace 
 Give me to see my master's face! 
 5 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 
 
 10 But prized its weal above their own. 
 With the Chief's birth begins our care; 
 Our harp must soothe the infant heir. 
 Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace 
 His earliest feat of field or chase ; 
 
 15 In peace, in war, our rank we keep. 
 We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep, 
 Nor leave hiiii till we pour our verse, — 
 A doleful tribute! — o'er his hearse. 
 Then let me share his captive lot; 
 
 20 It is my right — deny it not!" — 
 "Little we reck," said John of Brent, 
 "We Southern men, of long descent; 
 Nor wot we how a name — a word — 
 Makes clansmen vassals to a lord: 
 
 25 Yet kind my noble landlord's part, — 
 God bless the house of Beaudesert! 
 
132 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 And, but I loved to drive the deer, 
 More than to guide the labouring steer, 
 I had not dwelt an outcast here 
 30 Come, good old Minstrel, follow me; 
 Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see." 
 
 XII 
 
 Then, from a rusted iron hook, 
 A bunch of ponderous keys he tooK, 
 Lighted a torch, and Allan led 
 Through grated arch and passage dread. 
 5 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 an hideous engine grim, 
 
 10 For wrenching joint, and crushing limb, 
 By artist form'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, 
 
 15 While bolt and chain he backward roll'd, 
 And made the bar unhasp its hold. 
 They enter'd: — 'twas a prison-room 
 Of stern security and gloom, 
 Yet not a dungeon; for the day 
 
 20 Through lofty gratings found its way, 
 And rude and antique garniture 
 Deck'd the sad walls and oaken floor; 
 Such as the rugged days of old 
 Deem'd fit for captive noble's hold. 
 
 25 "Here," said De Brent, "thou mayst remain 
 Till the Leech visit him again, 
 Strict is his charge, the warders tell, 
 To tend the noble prisoner well." 
 Retiring then the bolt he drew, 
 
 30 And the lock's murmurs growl'd anew. 
 
CANTO SIXTH I33 
 
 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! 
 35 For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, 
 They, erring, deem'd the Chief he sought. 
 
 XIII 
 
 As the tall snip, whose lofty prore 
 
 Shall never stem the billows more, 
 
 Deserted by her gallant band. 
 
 Amid the breakers lies astrand, — 
 5 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, 
 10 Yet cannot heave her from her seat: — 
 
 O! how unlike her coiu'se at sea! 
 
 Or his free step on hill and lea! — 
 
 Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, 
 
 — "What of thy lady? — of my clan? — 
 15 My mother? — Douglas? — tell me all? 
 
 Have they been ruin'd in my fall? 
 
 Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here 
 
 Yet speak, — speak boldly, — do not fear." — 
 
 (For Allan, who his mood well knew, 
 20 Was choked with grief and terror too.) 
 
 "Who fought— who fled ?— (31d man, be brief;— 
 
 Some might — for they had lost their Chief. 
 
 Who basely live? — who bravely died?" 
 
 "O, calm thee, Chief!" the Minstrel cried, ^ 
 25 "Ellen is safe;" — "For that thank Heaven 1"— 
 
 "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, 
 30 Of combat fought so true and bold. 
 
134 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Thy stately Pine Ls 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. 
 5 — "Hark, Minstrel! I have heard thee J^lay, 
 With measure bold, on festal day, 
 In yon lone isle, . . . again where ne'er 
 Shall harper play, or warrior hear! . . . 
 That stirring air that peals on high, 
 
 10 O'er Dermid's race our victory. — 
 
 Strike it ! — and then, for well thou canst, 
 Free from thy minstrel spirit glanced, 
 Fling me the picture of the fight. 
 When met my clan the Saxon might. 
 
 15 I'll listen, till my fancy hears 
 
 The clang of swords, the crash of spears ! 
 These grates, these walls, shall vanish then, 
 For the fair field of fighting men. 
 And my free spirit burst away, 
 
 20 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 
 
 25 With what old Bertram told at night, 
 Awaken'd the full power of song, 
 And bore hini in career along; — 
 As shallop launch'd on river's tide, 
 That slow and fearful leaves the side, 
 
 30 But, when it feels the middle stream, 
 
 Drives downward swift as lishtnino-'s beam. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 
 
 XV 
 Sattlf of Iral' an iuittp 
 
 "The Minstrel came once more to view 
 The eastern ridge of Benvenue, 
 For ere he parted, he would say 
 Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — 
 5 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 eyry nods the erne, 
 10 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, 
 15 Benledi's distant hill. 
 
 Is it the thunder's solemn sound 
 That mutters deep and dread, 
 Or echoes from the groaning ground 
 The warrior's measured tread ? 
 20 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, 
 25 I see the Moray's silver star. 
 Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war, 
 That up the lake comes winding far! 
 To hero bound for battle-strife, 
 Or bard of martial lay, 
 30 'T were worth ten years of peaceful life, 
 One glance at their array! 
 
 XVI 
 
 'Their light-arm'd archers far and near 
 Survey'd the tangled ground, 
 
130 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 
 A twihght forest frown'd, 
 5 Their barbed horsemen, in the rear, 
 The stern battaha crown'd. 
 No cymbal clash'd, no clarion rang, 
 
 Still were the pipe and drum ; 
 Save heavy tread, and armour's clang, 
 10 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. 
 15 Their vaward scouts no tidings bring, 
 Can rouse no lurking foe, 
 Nor spy a trace of living thing. 
 
 Save when they stirr'd the roe; 
 The host moves, like a deep-sea wave, 
 20 Where rise no rocks its pride to brave, 
 High-swelling, dark, and slow. 
 The lake is pass'd, and now they gain 
 A narrow and a broken plain. 
 Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws; 
 25 And here the horse and spearmen pause. 
 While, to explore the dangerous glen, • 
 Dive through the pass the archer-men. 
 
 XVII 
 
 "At once there rose so wild a yell 
 Within that dark and narrow dell. 
 As all the fiends, from heaven that fell, 
 Had peal'd the banner-cry of hell! 
 5 Forth from the pass in tumult driven. 
 Like chaff before the wind of heaven. 
 
 The archery appear: 
 For life! for life! their flight they ply — 
 And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, 
 10 And plaids and bonnets waving high, 
 And broadswords flashing to the sky, 
 
CANTO SIXTH I37 
 
 Are maddening in the rear. 
 Onward they drive, in dreadful race, 
 
 Pursuers and pursued; 
 15 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 ! ' — 
 20 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. — 
 25 'We'll quell the savage mountaineer. 
 
 As their Tinchel cows the game! 
 They come as fleet as forest deer, ■ 
 
 We'll drive them back as tame.' — 
 
 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. 
 5 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, 
 10 They hurl'd them on the foe. 
 
 I heard the lance's shivering crash. 
 As when the whirlwind rends the ash ; 
 I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, 
 As if an hundred anvils rang ! 
 15 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. 
 
138 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 20 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 Ughtsome room. 
 25 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 
 30 The battle's tide was pour'd; 
 
 Vanish'd the Saxon's struggling speai-, 
 
 Vanish'd the mountain-sword. 
 As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep, 
 Receives her roaring linn, 
 35 As the dark caverns of the deep 
 Suck the wild whirlpool in. 
 So did the deep and darksome pass 
 Devour the battle's mingled mass: 
 None linger now upon the plain, 
 40 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, 
 
 5 Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile 
 Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. — 
 Grey Benvenue I soon repass'd. 
 Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. 
 The sun is set;— the clouds are met, 
 
 10 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. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 139 
 
 15 I heeded not the eddying surge, 
 
 Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, 
 
 Mine ear but heard the sullen sound, 
 
 Which like an earthquake shook the ground, 
 
 And spoke the stern and desperate strife 
 20 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, 
 25 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 
 30 The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears. 
 
 At weary bay each shatter'd band, 
 
 Eyeing their foeman, sternly stand; 
 
 Their banners stream like tatter'd sail, 
 
 That flings its fragments to the gale, 
 35 And broken arms and disarray 
 
 Mark'd the fell havoc of the day. 
 
 XX 
 
 . "Viewing the mountain's ridge askance. 
 The Saxon stood in sullen trance. 
 Till Moray pointed with his lance, 
 x\nd cried — 'Behold yon isle! — 
 5 See! none are left to guard its strand. 
 But women weak, that wring the hand : 
 'T is there of yore the robber band 
 
 Their booty wont to pile; — 
 My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, 
 10 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.' 
 
140 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung, 
 
 15 On earth his casque and corselet rung, 
 He plunged him in the wave: — 
 All saw the deed — the purpose knew, 
 And to their clamours Benveniie 
 A mingled echo gave; 
 
 20 The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 
 The helpless females scream for fear, 
 And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
 'T was then, as by the outcry riven, 
 Pour'd down at once the lowering heaven; 
 
 25 A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast, 
 Her billows rear'd their snowy crest. 
 Well for the swimmer swell'd they high. 
 To mar the Highland marksman's eye; 
 For round him shower'd, 'mid rain and hail, 
 
 30 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;— 
 
 35 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; — 
 
 40 Another flash! — the spearman floats 
 A weltering corse beside the boats. 
 And the stern matron o'er him stood, 
 Her hand and dagger streaming blood. 
 
 XXI 
 
 "'Revenge! revenge!' the Saxons cried, 
 The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 
 Despite tlie elemental rage. 
 Again they hurried to engage; 
 5 But, ere they closed in desperate fight. 
 Bloody with spurring came a knight, 
 
CANTO SIXTH 141 
 
 Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag, 
 
 Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. 
 
 Clarion and trumpet by his side 
 10 Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, 
 
 While, in the Monarch's name, afar 
 
 An herald's voice forbade the war, 
 
 For Bothwell's lord, and Roderick bold. 
 
 Were both, he said, in captive hold." 
 15 — 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, 
 20 With lifted hand, kept feeble time; 
 
 That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 
 
 Varied his look as changed the song; 
 
 At length, no more his deafen'd ear 
 
 The minstrel melody can hear; 
 25 His face grows sharp, — his hands are clenrh'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 moanless, drew 
 30 His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu! — 
 
 Old Allan-bane look'd on aghast, 
 
 While grim and still his spirit pass'd; 
 
 But when he saw that life was fled, 
 
 He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead. 
 
 xxn 
 
 Hamrnt 
 
 "And art thou cold and lowly laid, 
 Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid," 
 Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade! 
 For thee. shall none a requiem say? 
 5 — For thee, — who loved the minstrel's lay, 
 For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, 
 
142 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 The shelter of her exiled line, 
 E'en in this prison-house of thine 
 I'll wail for Alpine's honour'd Pine ! 
 
 10 "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, 
 
 15 Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun! 
 
 There breathes not clansman of thy line, 
 But would have given his life for thine. — 
 O woe for Alpine's honour'd Pine! 
 
 "Sad was thy lot on mortal stage! — 
 20 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, 
 25 Shall with my harp her voice combine. 
 
 And mix her woe and tears with mine. 
 
 To wail Clan- Alpine's honour'd Pine."— 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Ellen, the while, with bursting heart, 
 Remain'd in lordly bower apart, 
 Where play'd, with many colour'd gleams, 
 Through storied pane the rising beams. 
 5 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, 
 10 Scarce drew one curious glance astray; 
 Or if she look'd, 't was but to say. 
 With better omen dawn'd the day 
 
CANTO SIXTH 143 
 
 In that lone isle, where waved on high 
 
 The dun-deer's hide for canopy; 
 15 Where oft her noble father shared 
 
 The simple meal her care prepared, 
 
 While Lufra, crouching by her side, 
 
 Her station clann'd with jealous pride, 
 
 And Douglas, bent on woodland game, 
 20 Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Grseme, 
 
 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. 
 25 But sudden, see, she lifts her head! 
 
 The window seeks with cautious tread. 
 
 What distant music has the power 
 
 To win her in this woeful hour! 
 
 'T was from a turret that o'erhung 
 30 Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. 
 
 XXIV 
 Hag of ll)r 31m;irt0otiri» l^mttHmah 
 
 "My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 
 
 INIy idle greyhound loathes his food. 
 
 My horse is weary of his stall, 
 
 And I am sick of captive thrall. 
 5 I wish I were as I have been. 
 
 Hunting the hart in forest green. 
 
 With bendetl bow and bloodhoimd free, 
 
 For that's the life is meet for me. 
 
 I hate to learn the ebb of time, 
 10 From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, 
 
 Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 
 
 Inch after inch, along the wall. 
 
 The lark was wont my matins ring, 
 
 The sable rook my vespers sing ; 
 15 These towers, although a king's they be. 
 
 Have not a hall of joy for me. 
 
1.44 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 No more at dawning morn I rise, 
 And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, 
 Drive the fleet deer the forest through, 
 20 And homeward wend with evening dew; 
 A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 
 And lay my trophies at her feet. 
 While fled the eve on wing of glee, — 
 That life is lost to love and me!" 
 
 XXV 
 
 The heart-sick lay was hardly said. 
 
 The Hst'ner had not turn'd her head, 
 
 It trickled still, the starting tear. 
 
 When light a footstep struck her ear, 
 5 And Snowdoun's graceful knight was near. 
 
 She turn'd the hastier, lest again 
 
 The prisoner should renew his strain. 
 
 "O welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said; 
 
 "How may an almost orphan maid 
 10 Pay the deep debt" — "O 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, 
 15 With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 
 
 No tyrant he, though ire and pride 
 
 INIay lay his better mood aside. 
 
 Come, Ellen, come! 'tis more than time, 
 
 He holds his court at morning prime." 
 20 With beating heart, and bosom wrung, 
 
 As to brother's arm she clung. 
 
 Gently he dried the falling tear. 
 
 And gently whisper'd hope and cheer; 
 
 Her faltering steps, half led, half staid, 
 25 Through gallery fair, and high arcade. 
 
 Till, at his touch, its wings of pride 
 
 A portal arch unfolded wide. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 145 
 
 XXVI 
 
 Within 't was brilliant all and light, 
 
 A thronging scene of figures bright; 
 
 It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight, 
 
 As when the setting sun has given 
 5 Ten thousand hues to summer even, 
 
 And from their tissue fancy frames 
 
 Aerial knights and fairy dames. 
 
 Still by Fitz- James her footing staid; 
 
 A few faint steps she fonvard made, 
 10 Then slow her drooping head she raised, 
 
 And fearful round the presence gazed; 
 
 For him she sought, who own'd this state. 
 
 The dreaded Prince whose will was fate! — 
 
 She gazed on many a princely port, 
 15 Might well have ruled a royal court; 
 
 On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 
 
 Then turn'd bewildered and amazed, 
 
 For all stood bare; and, in the room, 
 
 Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. 
 20 To him each lady's look was lent; 
 
 On him each courtier's eye was bent; 
 
 Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen, 
 
 He stood, in simple Lincoln green. 
 
 The centre of the glittering ring, — 
 25 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; 
 5 No word her choking voice commands, — 
 She show'd the ring— she clasped her hands. 
 O ! not a moment could he brook, 
 The generous Prince, that suppliant look! 
 
146 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Gently he raised her, — and, the while, 
 10 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. 
 15 To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring; 
 
 He will redeem his signet-ring. 
 
 Ask nought for Douglas ; — yester even, 
 
 His prince and he have much forgiven. 
 
 Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 
 20 I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 
 
 We would not, to the vulgar crowd, 
 
 Yield what they craved with clamour loud; 
 
 Calmly we heard and judged his cause, 
 
 Our council aided, and our laws. 
 25 I stanch'd thy father's death-feud stern. 
 
 With Stout De Vaux and Grey Glencairn; 
 
 And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own 
 
 The friend and bulwark of our Throne.— 
 
 But, lovely infidel, how now? 
 30 What clouds thy misbelieving brow? 
 
 Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid; 
 
 Thou must confirm this doubting maid." 
 
 xxvni 
 
 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, — 
 
 5 When it can say, with godlike voice. 
 Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice! 
 Yet w^ould not James the general eye 
 On Nature's raptures long should pry; 
 He stepp'd between — "Nay, Douglas, nay, 
 
 10 Steal not my proselyte away! 
 The riddle 't is my right to read, 
 That brought this happy chance to speed. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 147 
 
 — Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 
 
 In life's more low but happier way, 
 15 'T is under name which veils my power, 
 
 Nor falsely veils — for Stirling's tower 
 
 Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, 
 
 And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 
 
 Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, 
 20 Thus learn to right the injured cause." — 
 
 Then, in a tone apart and low, — 
 
 "Ah, little traitress! none must know 
 
 What idle dream, what lighter thought. 
 
 What vanity full dearly bought, 
 25 Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 
 
 My spell-bound steps to Benvenue, 
 
 In dangerous hour, and all but gave 
 
 Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive!" — 
 
 Aloud he spoke — "Thou still dost hold 
 30 That little talisman of gold, 
 
 Pledge of my faith, Fit z- James's ring — 
 
 What seeks fair Ellen of the King?" 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Full well the conscious maiden guess'd 
 He probed the weakness of her breast; 
 But, with that consciousness, there came 
 A lightening of her fears for Grieme, 
 
 5 And more the deera'd the^lNIonarch's ire 
 Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire 
 Rebellious broadsword boldly drew; 
 And, to her generous feeling true. 
 She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. 
 
 10 "Forbear thy suit:— the King of kings 
 Alone can stay life's parting wings. 
 I know his heart, I know his hand. 
 Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand: 
 My fairest earldom would I give 
 
 15 To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live!— 
 
148 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 Hast thou no other boon to crave ? 
 No other captive friend to save?" 
 Blushing, she turn'd her from the King, 
 And to the Douglas gave the ring, 
 
 20 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, 
 
 25 Down kneel'd the Graeme to Scotland's Lord. 
 "For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues. 
 From thee may Vengeance claim her dues, 
 Who, nurtur'd underneath our smile. 
 Hast paid our care by treacherous wile, 
 
 30 And sought, amid thy faithful clan, 
 A refuge for an outlaw'd man, 
 Dishonouring thus thy loyal name — 
 Fetters and warder for the Graeme!" — 
 His chain of gold the King unstrung, 
 
 35 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; 
 40 In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark. 
 The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending. 
 Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending. 
 And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy; 
 Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending, 
 45 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 
 50 May idly cavil at an idle lay. 
 
CANTO SIXTH 149 
 
 Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, 
 Through secret woes tlie world has never known, 
 
 When on the weary night dawn'd wearier day. 
 And bitterer was the grief devour'd alone. 
 55 That I o'er lived such woes, Enchantress! is thine own. 
 
 Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire. 
 
 Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! 
 'T is now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 
 
 'T is now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. 
 60 Receding now, the dying numbers ring 
 
 Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell, 
 And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 
 
 A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — 
 And now, 't is silent all! — Enchantress, fare thee well! 
 
NOTES 
 
 CANTO FIRST 
 
 Int. 2. Witch elm. The long leaved or drooping elm. 
 
 Saint Fillan. A Scottish abbot who flourished in the 
 
 seventh century. 
 10. Caledon. Caledonia was an old name for Scotland 
 
 and is still used poetically. 
 I, 2. Monan's rill. Monan was a Scottish martyr of the 
 
 fourth century. The stream does not appear to have 
 
 been identified. 
 4. Glenartney A vale in Perthshire. 
 
 Benvoirlich. See map. Ben means mountain. 
 
 Uam-Var. A mountain near Menteith. See map. 
 
 Linn. Here means "steep ravine." 
 
 Menteith, See note to II. 16. 
 
 Lochard, Aberfoyle. See map. 
 
 Loch Achray. A small lake lying at the foot of 
 
 Benvenue, between Loch Katrine and Loch ^'cn- 
 
 nachar. 
 
 Benvenue, meaning "Central mountain," near Loch 
 
 Katrine. 
 
 Cambusmore. A family seat about two miles from 
 
 Callander on the Keltic. — scott. 
 
 Benledi. A mountain near Callander. Its name 
 
 signifies "the mountain of God." 
 
 Bochastle's heath. A plain lying between the east 
 
 end of Loch Vennachar and the river Teith. 
 
 Brigg of Turk. A bridge about a mile above Loch 
 
 Vennachar. — scott. 
 
 St. Hubert's breed. A breed of powerful hounds, 
 
 usually black, kept by the abbots of St. Hubert, the 
 
 patron saint of hunters. 
 14. Quarry. Prey, now used only poetically. 
 
 151 
 
 
 6. 
 
 II, 
 
 16. 
 
 III, 
 
 18. 
 
 V, 
 
 4. 
 
 
 8. 
 
 
 10. 
 
 
 12. 
 
 VI, 
 
 2. 
 
 
 4. 
 
 
 5. 
 
 
 11. 
 
 VII 
 
 ,7. 
 
152 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 VIII, 7. Death-wound. When the stag turned to bay, the 
 ancient hunter had the perilous task of going in upon, 
 and kilHng or disabling the desperate animal. At 
 certain times of the year this was held particularly 
 dangerous, a wound received from a stag's horn 
 being then deemed poisonous, and more dangerous 
 than one from the tusks of a boar. — scott. 
 Death-halloo. A shout uttered by the hunter after 
 having killed the deer. 
 8. Whinyard. A short hanger used as a knife at meals, 
 and as a sword in broils. — jamieson. 
 15. Trosachs. A wild picturesque region between Loch 
 Katrine and Loch Achray. 
 
 XI, 13. Tower ... on Shinar's plain. This refers to the 
 
 Tower of Babel. 
 25. Sheen = glittering. 
 
 XII, 3. Eglantine. Sweet-brier. 
 
 20. Glist'ning streamers. Spreading branches of the 
 rose and ivy. 
 
 XIV, 10. Loch Katrine. The lake referred to in the title of 
 
 this poem, which is situated in the southwestern part 
 of Perthshire. 
 24. Ben-an. A mountain at the north of Loch Katrine. 
 
 XV, 8. Cloister. Convent or monastery. 
 
 XVI, 2. Beshrew. A mild imprecation. 
 
 13. Highland plunderers. The clans who inhabited the 
 romantic regions in the neighborhood of Loch Katrine, 
 were, even until a late period, much addicted to pred- 
 atory excursions upon their lowland neighbors. — 
 
 SCOTT. 
 
 18. Falchion. A short curved sword. 
 
 XVII, 24. Naiad. Goddess of rivers and springs. 
 
 XIX, 2. Snood. A ribbon worn in the hair by Scottish 
 maidens until their marriage. 
 
 Plaid. A striped or variegated woolen cloth, worn as 
 an over-garment by .the Scottish Highlanders. 
 .1. Brooch. An ornament used to fasten the plaid. 
 
 XXII, 4 Wildered = bewildered. 
 
NOTES ON CANTO I 153 
 
 8. Couch was puU'd. A Highlander's couch often con- 
 sisted of freshly pulled heather. 
 
 11. Mere. Small lake. 
 
 i;^. By the rood. By the cross. 
 XXIII, 8. Visioned future. If force of evidence could autJior- 
 ize us to believe things inconsistent with the general 
 laws of nature, enough might be produced in favor 
 of the existence of the Second Sight. — Scott. 
 
 12. Lincoln green. A woolen cloth made at Lincoln, and 
 much worn by hunters. 
 
 XXV, 11. Retreat in dangerous hour. The Celtic chieftains, 
 whose lives were continually exposed to peril, had 
 usually, in the most retired spot of their domains, 
 some jilace of retreat for the hour of necessity, 
 which, as circumstances would admit, was a tower, 
 a cavern, or a rustic hut in a strong and secluded 
 situation. — soott. 
 
 XXVIIT,7. Brook to wield. Brook here means "was able." 
 14. Ferragus or Ascabart. In medieval romances the 
 names of these two fabled giants of enormous strength 
 frequently appear. 
 
 XXIX, 5. To whom, though more than kindred knew. The 
 meaning of this somewhat obscure expression seems 
 to be that Ellen loved her aunt. Lady Margaret, as 
 she would her own mother. 
 10. Unasked his birth and name. The Highlanders are 
 said to have considered it as churlish to ask a stranger 
 his name and lineage, before he had taken refresh- 
 ment. 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 assist- 
 ance he stood in need of. — scott. 
 
 XXXI, 15. Pibroch. A wild Highland air played upon the 
 bagpipes. 
 19. Bittern. A species of heron. 
 
154 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 CANTO SECOND 
 
 I, 1. Black-cock, The black grouse. 
 
 7. Minstrel grey. The Highland chieftain maintained as 
 an officer in his household, a bard or minstrel, whose 
 duty it was to extol in song, the triumphs of the clan. 
 
 VII, IS. Harp which erst Saint Modan sway'd. "I am not 
 prepared to show that Saint Modan was a performer 
 on the harp. It was, however, no unsaintly accom- 
 plishment, for Saint Dunstan certainly did play upon 
 that instrument, which retaining, as was natural, a 
 portion of the sanctity attached to its master's 
 character, announced future events by its spontaneous 
 sound." — SCOTT 
 
 VIIL 9. Douglasses. The event referred to is the exile of 
 the Douglasses during the reign of James V. 
 
 IX, 6. Tweed to Spey. The northern and southern boun- 
 
 daries of Scotland. Compare Judges xx : i. "From 
 Dan even to Beersheba." 
 
 X, IG. Lady of the Bleeding Heart. The Bleeding Heart , 
 
 was the cognizance of the house of Douglas assumed 
 when one of their number received from Robert Bruce 
 the solemn commission to carry his heart to the Holy 
 Land. 
 
 XI, 6. Strathspey. A Scottish dance of a lively nature. 
 
 14. Loch Lomond. See map. 
 
 16. Lennox foray. A raid for plunder into the territory 
 of the Lennox family. 
 
 XII, 5. Holy Rood. The royal castle at Edinburgh, named 
 
 from the Abbey of Holyrood. 
 20. Dispensation. A special dispensation of the Pope to 
 enable Roderick to marry Ellen, was necessary on 
 account of their cousinship. 
 
 XIII, 4. All that a mother could bestow, 
 
 To Lady Margaret's care I owe. 
 These lines emphasize the fact that Lady Margaret is 
 the mother of Roderick Dhu, therefore Ellen and 
 Roderick Dhu are cousins. 
 
 15. Maronnan's cell. The parish of Kilmaronock, at the 
 eastern extremity of Loch Lomond, derives its name 
 
NOTES ON CANTO II 155 
 
 from a cell or chapel, dedicated to Saint Maronoch, or 
 Marnoch, or Maronnan, about whose sanctity very- 
 little is now remembered. — Scott. 
 
 XIV, 4. Bracklinn. This is a beautiful cascade made at a 
 
 place called the Bridge of Bracklinn, by a mountain 
 stream called the Keltie, about a mile from the village 
 of Callander, in Menteith. — scott. 
 S. Claymore. The broadsword used by the High- 
 landers. 
 
 XV, 4. Tine-man. Tine is a Scotticism for "lost;" the refer- 
 
 ence according to Scott is to the fact that Archibald, 
 the third earl of Douglas was so unfortunate in all 
 his enterprises that he acquired the epithet of Tine- 
 man, because he lined, or lost, his followers in every 
 battle which he fought. 
 17. Beltane game. May-day sports. 
 
 XVI, 5. Glengyle. A valley at the extreme western end of 
 
 Loch Katrine. 
 7. Brianchoil. Situated on the southern side of Loch 
 
 Katrine. 
 10. Bannered Pine. Clan-Alpine's emblem or badge. 
 21. Chanters. The pipe which sounds the tenor or treble 
 
 in a bagpipe. 
 
 XVIII, 11. The chorus first could Allan know. The chorus 
 
 was the first part of the boat-song that was distinguish- 
 able to the minstrel. 
 
 XIX, 7. To bourgeon. To sprout or blossom. 
 9. Agen = again (obsolete). 
 
 10. Vich. Gaelic for "descendant of." dhu== black. The 
 line "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu" means therefore 
 "Roderick the Black, descendant of Alpine." 
 
 XX, 1. Glen Fruin. A clan battle between the Macgregors 
 
 and the Colquhouns. — scott. 
 2-8. Bannochar, Glen Luss, Ross-dhu, Leven-glen. 
 
 These are the names of different valleys bordering 
 
 upon Loch Lomond. 
 2. Slogan. The war-cry of a Highland clan. 
 13. The rose-bud that graces yon islands. The metaphor 
 
 in this line refers to Ellen. 
 
156 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXIII, 15. Percy's Norman pennon. A trophy captured by 
 
 the Douglas in a raid (L388) which led to the battle of 
 Otterburn. 
 
 22. The waned crescent. The real meaning of this is 
 rather obscure. It may mean the failure of Sir Walter 
 Scott of Buccleugh (one of Scott's ancestors whose 
 shield bore a crescent moon) who made an unsuccess- 
 ful attempt to free the young king from the domina- 
 tion of the Douglas, or it possibly refers to some 
 previous victory over Turkish armies in the East. 
 
 24. Blantyre. Ancient abbey or priory near Bothwell 
 Castle. 
 
 XXIV, 14. Goddess of the wood. Diana. 
 
 XXVI, 11. Glenfinlas. A wooded valley to the northeast of 
 Loch Katrine. 
 
 14. Royal ward. Under the guardianship of the king. 
 20. Strath-Endrick glen. A valley, southeast of Loch 
 
 Lomond, which is watered by the Endrick. 
 XXVIII, 12. Tamed the Border-side. In 1529 James V. 
 made a convention at pdinburgh, 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 ex- 
 orbitances. An expedition was accordingly formed, 
 and many of the most noted freebooters were seized 
 and executed. — scott. 
 19-22. Meggat, Yarrow, Tweed, Ettrick, Teviot. These 
 streams are in the southern part of Scotland. The 
 waters of the Meggat, Yarrow, Ettrick and Teviot 
 flow into the Tweed. 
 
 XXX, 14. Links of Forth. The windings of the River Forth 
 
 and the ground lying along them. 
 
 15. Stirling's Porch. From early times the Scottish 
 kings resided at Stirhng Castle. 
 
 XXXI, 11. Battled fence. A strong wall or battlement built 
 
 for defence, having at intervals, openings from which 
 to discharge missiles. 
 
 XXXV, 7 pity t'were. 
 
 Such cheek should feel the midnight air. 
 
NOTES ON CANTO II 157 
 
 A charge of effeminacy against Malcolm. A taunt 
 of this nature was particularly bitter and insulting to 
 the hardy Highland character. 
 15. Henchman. This officer was a sort of secretary, who 
 was expected to be ready on all occasions to hazard 
 his life for his master. At drinking-bouts he stood 
 behind his seat, at his haunch, whence the title is de- 
 rived, and watched the conversation, to see if any one 
 offended his patron. — scott. 
 XXXVI, 5. Fiery Cross. When a chieftain designed to 
 summon his clan, upon any sudden or important 
 emergency, he slew a goat, and making a cross of any 
 light wood, seared its extremities in the fire, and ex- 
 tinguished them in the blood of the animal. This 
 was called the Fienj Cross, also Crcan Tarigh, or the 
 Cross of Shame, because disobedience to what the 
 symbol implied, inferred infamy. It was delivered 
 to a swift and trusty messenger, who ran full speed 
 with it to the next hamlet, where he presented it to the 
 principal person, with a single word, implying the 
 place of rendezvous. He who received the symbol 
 was bound to send it forward with equal despatch to 
 the next village; and thus it passed with incredible 
 celerity through all the district which owed allegiance 
 to the chief, and also among his allies and 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 appear suf- 
 fered the extremities of fire and sword, which were 
 emblematically denounced to the disobedient by the 
 bloody and burnt marks upon this warhke 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 Bredalbane, a tract of 
 thirty-two miles, in three hours.— scott. 
 
158 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 CANTO THIRD 
 
 II, 2L Cushat dove. The ring-dove or wood-pigeon. 
 IV, 3. Shivers. Splinters is a more generally used terni. 
 
 14. Benharrow. A mountain to the north of Loch 
 Lomond. 
 
 16. Druid. A priest of the ancient religion of the Celtic 
 races in Britain and Gaul, which taught the doctrine 
 of the transmigration of souls, and kept up the tra- 
 ditional belief, that in order to please the gods, human 
 sacrifices must be made. 
 
 27. Strath. A broad valley. 
 
 VI, 20. Cabala. An ancient belief, or mysterious kind of 
 
 science, supposed to have been revealed to the ancient 
 Jews, by which hidden Scripture meanings are inter- 
 preted. Its followers pretended even to foretell 
 future events by the study of this doctrine. 
 
 VII, 6. River Demon. The river demon, or river-horse, for 
 
 it is that form which he commonly assumes, is the 
 Kelpy of the Lowlands, an evil and malicious spirit, 
 delighting to forebode and to witness calamity. He 
 frequents most Highland lakes and rivers; and one of 
 his most memorable exploits was performed upon the 
 banks of Loch Vennachar, in the very district which 
 forms the scene of our action: it consisted in the de- 
 struction of a funeral procession, with all its atten- 
 dants. — SCOTT. 
 8. "Noontide hag." Called in Gaelic Glas-Kch, a tall, 
 emaciated, gigantic female figure, is supposed in par- 
 ticular to haunt the district of Knoidart. — scott. 
 20. Ben-Shie. A ben-shie or banshee was a supernatural 
 spirit or being, which many Highland families were 
 supposed to have attached to them. It presaged an 
 approaching calamity, or more especially a death in 
 the family, by dismal midnight bowlings. 
 
 VIII, 13. Inch-Cailliach. The Isle of Nuns, or of Old Women, 
 
 is a most beautiful island at the lower extremity of 
 Loch Lomond. — scott. 
 X, 31. Coir Uriskin. See note to XXV, 22. 
 
NOTES ON CANTO III 159 
 
 XII, 5. Lanrick mead. A meadow or plain to the west of 
 Loch Vennachar. 
 
 XV, 2. Duncraggan. A small village or hamlet situated 
 
 near the Brigg of Turk, between Loch Achray and 
 Loch Vennachar. 
 22. Coronach. A wild dirge of lamentation, sung by mem- 
 bers of the clan over the body of a deceased friend. 
 
 XVI, 17. Correi. The hollow side of the hill, where game 
 
 usually lies. — scott. 
 
 XVII, 1. Stumah. Means faithful. Here it is the name 
 
 of a dog. 
 
 XIX, 2. Strath- Ire. A valley to the east of Ben Ledi. 
 
 10. Chapel of St. Bride. A chapel, which stood in the 
 middle of Strath-Ire. 
 
 XX, 3, 4. Tombea and Armandave, are the names of places in 
 
 the neighborhood of Strath-Ire. 
 8. Coif. A head-covering worn by the Scottish matron. 
 
 XXIV, 2. Midnight blaze. Frequently the shepherds set fire 
 
 to the dry heather on the Scottish moorland, that 
 their flocks might have advantage of the fresh herb- 
 age. 
 
 XXV, 7. Rednoch. A lordly castle just east of Lake Men- 
 
 teith. 
 
 8. Cardross. A castle on the river Forth, a little south 
 of Rednoch. 
 
 9. Duchray's towers. Duchray Castle. This was an 
 ancient stronghold. 
 
 22. Coir-nan-Uriskin. This is a very steep and most 
 romantic hollow in the mountain of Benvenue, over- 
 hanging the southeastern extremity of Loch Katrine. 
 The name literally imphes the Corri, or Den, of the 
 wild or shaggy men. Tradition has ascribed to the 
 Urisk, who gives name to the cavern, a figure between 
 a goat and a man; in short, however much the classi- 
 cal reader may be startled, precisely that of the 
 Grecian satyr. — scott. 
 
 XXVI, 32. Satyrs. See note immediately preceding. 
 
 XXVII, 6. Beal-nam-bo. Bealach-nam-Bo, or the pass of 
 cattle, is a most magnificent glade, overhung with 
 
T, 
 
 .'). 
 
 II, 
 
 1. 
 
 
 10. 
 
 III, 
 
 5. 
 
 IV, 
 
 9. 
 
 160 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 aged birch-trees, a little higher up the mountain tlian 
 C'oir-nan-Uriskin. The whole composes the most 
 sublime piece of scenery that imagination can con- 
 ceive. SCOTT. 
 
 XXIX, 1. Ave Maria. The first two words of a Latin prayer 
 to the Virgin, meaning Hail Mary. 
 
 CANTO FOURTH 
 
 Wilding. Wild. 
 Conceit. Fanciful idea. 
 
 Braes of Doune. Sloping hill-sides near Doune Castle 
 on the north side of the Teith. 
 Boune. To make ready; to prepare. 
 Taghairm. The Highlanders, like all rude peoi)lo, luul 
 various superstitious modes of inquiring into futurity. 
 One of the most noted was the Taghairm, mentioned 
 in the text. A person v/as wrapped in the skin of a 
 newly-slain bullock, and deposited beside a waterfall, 
 or at the bottom of a precipice^ or in some other 
 strange, wild, and unusual situation, where the scen- 
 ery around him suggested nothing but objects of hor- 
 ror. In this situation he revolved in his mind the 
 question proposed, and whatever was impressed upon 
 him by his exalted imagination, passed for the ins[)i- 
 ration of the disembodied spirits who haunt these 
 desolate recesses. — scott (abridged). 
 
 11. Gallangad. Evidently the scene of a raid or foray. 
 The exact location of the place has been lost sight of. 
 
 I'J. Kernes. Light armed infantry soldiers. 
 
 120. Beal'maha. "The pass of the plain" near Loch Lo- 
 mond. 
 
 23. Dennan's Row. The starting point for asccndii:g 
 Ben Lomond. 
 '\', 1. Boss. Knob; protuberance. 
 
 G. Hero's Targe. A rock in the Forest of Glenfinlas. 
 
 20. Watching while the deer is broke. Everything be- 
 longing 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 technically called, breaking 
 
NOTES ON CANTO IV 161 
 
 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 also. — scott. 
 YI, 25-26. Which spills the foremost foeman's life, 
 That party conquers in the strife. 
 Though this be in the text described as the response 
 of the Taghairm, or Oracle of the Hide, it was of itself 
 an augury frequently attended to. The fate of the 
 battle was often anticipated, in the imagination of 
 the combatants, by observing which party first shed 
 
 blood. SCOTT. 
 
 VIII, 1 . Doune. A castle on the Teitli, above Stirling. 
 
 1. Sable pale. A black perpendicular stripe, upon a 
 family coat-of-arms. 
 
 IX, 15. Red streamers of the north. Northern lights or 
 
 Aurora Borealis. 
 X, 25. Cambus-kenneth. An abbey situated on the Forth 
 near Stirling, the ruins of which still may be seen. 
 
 XII, 25. Pall. A costly material from which the outer gar- 
 
 ments of the nobility were made. 
 Vair. A fur employed in making garments for per- 
 sons of rank, in medieval times. 
 
 XIII, G. Wonn'd. Lived or dwelt. (Obsolete.) 
 
 It. Fairies' fatal green. Green was considered an un- 
 lucky color in many parts of Scotland, for the reason 
 that elves or gnomes assumed this color, and became 
 enraged should a mortal presume to wear it. 
 
 16. Thou wert christen'd man. According to medieval 
 belief, a baptized Christian possessed many privileges. 
 Should he, therefore, fall under the spell of the elves, 
 he was granted by them, certain rights and liberties 
 because of this distinction. 
 
 XV, 32. Dunfermline. A town near Edinburgh, Scotland's 
 
 kings' residence in early times. 
 
 XVI, 15. Bourne. Stream. 
 
 20. Augur scathe. Foretell injury. 
 XIX, 11. Lordship. Estate. 
 
162 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXII, 5-6. Allan, Devan. Two streams of Perthshire, which 
 
 flow into the Forth. 
 
 XXIII, 13. From Maudlin's charge. Maudlin is a diminu- 
 
 tive, or corruption of the proper name Magdalen. 
 17. Peasant pitch'd a bar. Tossing a heavy hammer, a 
 feat of strength, practiced by the peasants on public 
 occasions or holidays. 
 25. Batten. Fatten. 
 XXV, 5. A stag of ten. Having ten branches on his antlers, 
 
 consequently full grown 
 XXXI, 27. Coilantogle's ford. A ford near the eastern end 
 of Loch Vennachar. See map. 
 
 CANTO KIFTH 
 
 III, 11. Shingles. Gravel; pebbles. 
 
 VI, 13. While Albany, with feeble hand, 
 
 Held borrow'd truncheon of command. 
 
 The Duke of Albany was Regent while James V. was in 
 his minority. Albany was a cousin of the King. 
 " There is scarcely a more disorderly period in Scottish 
 history than that which succeeded the battle of Flod- 
 den and occupied the minority of James V. Feuds 
 of ancient standing broke out like old wounds, and 
 every quarrel among the independent nobility, which 
 cccurred daily, and almost hourly, gave rise to fresh 
 bloodshed." — scott. 
 15. Mewed. Confinea. 
 X, 26. Targe. Shield. 
 
 Jack. A coat of defensive armor quilted and covered 
 with leather. 
 XI, 17, 18. Deeming this path you might pursue 
 Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 
 This incident, like some other passages in the poem, 
 illustrative 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 perfidy. — scott. 
 
NOTES ON CANTO V 163 
 
 XII, 6, 7. On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 
 
 Where Rome, the Empress of the world 
 The torrent which discharges itself from Loch Ven- 
 nachar, the lowest and eastmost of the three lakes 
 which form the scenery adjoining to the Trosachs, 
 sweeps through a flat and extensive moor, called 
 Bochastle. l^pon a small eminence, called the Dun 
 of Bochastle, and, indeed, on the plain itself, are some 
 intrenchments which have been thought Roman. 
 There is, adjacent to Callander, a sweet villa, the 
 residence of Captain Fairfoul, entitled the Roman 
 Camp. — SCOTT. 
 
 XIV, 10. Carpet knight. More of a courtier than a fighter. 
 
 XV, 2. 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 equip- 
 ment. In charging regular troops, they received the 
 thrust of the bayonet in the buckler, twisted it aside, 
 and used the broadsword against the encumbered 
 soldier. — scott. 
 
 XVII, 25. Palfrey. A saddle horse used by ladies. 
 
 XVIII, 17. Pricked. Spurred. 
 
 21 to 28. Torry, Lendrick, Deanstown, Doune, Blair-Drum- 
 mond, Ochtertyre, Kier. All the.se are situated on 
 the banks of the Teith. 
 35. Stirling. Stirling Castle, the residence of James V., 
 was the principal stronghold of Scotland. 
 
 XIX, 20. By Saint Serle. A minor and almost forgotten Scot- 
 
 tish Saint. 
 
 XX, 12. Bride of Heaven. One who devotes her life to the 
 
 service of the Church. 
 
 19. Oh sad and fatal mound. An eminence on the north- 
 east of the castle, where state criminals were executed. 
 Stirling was often polluted with noble blood. — scott. 
 
 30. Mortice-dancers. The morrice dance was of Moorish 
 origin, and was a popular form of amusement.^ 
 
 32. The burghers hold their sports to-day. Every burgh 
 of Scotland, of the least note, but more especially 
 the considerable towns, had their solemn play or 
 
164 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 festival, when feats of archery were exhibited, and 
 prizes distributed to those who excelled in wrestling, 
 hurling the bar, and the other gymnastic exercises of 
 the period. Stirling, a usual place of royal residence, 
 was not likely to be deficient in pomp upon such occa- 
 sions, especially since James V. was very partial to 
 them. His ready participation in these popular 
 amusements was one cause of his acquiring the title 
 of King of the Commons. — scott. 
 
 XXL 10. Jennet. A small horse originally bred in Spain. 
 20. Commons' King. See note on XX. 32. 
 
 XXIL 0. Bold Robin . . . band. The exhibition of this re- 
 nowned Ovitlaw and his band was a favourite frolic 
 at such festivals as we are describing. It would seem, 
 from the complaints of the General Assembly of the 
 Kirk, that these profane festivities were continued 
 down to L592. Bold Robin was, to say the least, 
 equally successful in maintaining his ground against 
 ■ the reformed clergy of England, for the simple and 
 evangelical Latimer complains of coming to a country 
 church, where the people refused to hear him, because 
 it was Robin Hood's day; and his mitre and rochet 
 were fain to give way to the village pastime. — scott. 
 
 XXII, 7. Friar Tuck, Scathelocke, Maid Marian, Scarlet, 
 Mutch, and Little John. Members of Robin Hood's 
 famous band of outlaws. In Ivmihoe Sir Walter Scott 
 gives a stirring account of the achievements of this 
 medieval outlaw and his followers. 
 
 XXIV, 2. Ladies' Rock. An eminence between the Castle 
 and Grey-friars church from which the ladies of the 
 Court witnes.sed the games. 
 
 XXXI, 3. Cognizance. The badge or distinguishing mark by 
 which a knight or his dependants were recognized. 
 
 CANTO SIXTH 
 
 I, 15. Gyve. Fetter; shackle. 
 II, 17. Beakers. Drinking goblets of generous size. 
 
 24. Harness. Defensive armor and accoutrements worn 
 by knights and soldiers. 
 
NOTES ON CANTO VI 165 
 
 III, 5. Adventurers. Mercenary soldiers; mainly foreigners, 
 who sold their services to the highest bidder. 
 18. Halberd. A weapon formed of a shaft of wood, a 
 head armed with a steel point and a cross-piece flat 
 and pointed at both ends. 
 V, 6. Upsees. A Bacchanial interjection borrowed from 
 the Dutch. — scott. 
 
 14. Cure. Priestly charge. Placket. Petticoat. 
 
 15. Lurch, IK t. To defeat; to disappoint; to evade. 
 
 VI, 24. Juggler The jugglers used to call in the aid of 
 various assistants to render these performances as 
 captivating as possible. The glee-maiden was a neces- 
 sary attendant. Her duty was tumbling and dancing, 
 and therefore the Anglo-Saxon version of St. Mark's 
 Gospel states Herodias to have vaulted or tum))lod 
 before King Herod. — scott. 
 
 VTII, 12. Needwood. A royal forest in one of Die midland 
 
 counties of England. 
 X, 25. Barret-cap. A kind of head-piece or cap formerly 
 worn by soldiers. 
 
 XII, 26. Leech. Physician. 
 
 XIII, 1. Prore. Prow. 
 " XV, 9. Erne. Eagle. 
 
 XVI, 15. Vaward. Vanguard. The troops who march in 
 front of an army; the first line. 
 
 X^VII, 26. TincheL A circle of sportsmen, who, by surround- 
 ing an extensive space, and gradually closing in, bring 
 a number of deer or other game within a narrow com- 
 pass. 
 
 XVIII, 34. Linn. Waterfall. 
 
 XX, 9. Bonnet-pieces. A gold coin on wliich the king's head 
 
 was represented with a bonnet instead of a crown, 
 coined by the "Commons' King." — Taylor. 
 
 XXI, IS. Brooked. Here means bore. 
 
 XXIII, 4. Storied pane. A window painted with historical 
 or legendary scenes. Compare Gray's Elegy 
 
 "Can storied urn or animated bust" 
 also, Milton's II Petifternfto 
 
 "Storied windows richly dight." 
 
166 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 
 
 XXVI, 25. Snowdoun's Knight, etc. James V. 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 justice was 
 regularly administered he used to traverse the vicinage 
 of his several palaces in various disguises. — scott. 
 
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