SMI 3-^\Zo ROKEBY THE LORD OF THE ISLES THE BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, INDEXES, ETC. BY SIR WALTER SCOTT BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, I913 BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED p£ d^i'^O R^ CONTENTS ROKEBY introduction 3 canto first ii canto second 45 canto third 75 canto fourth . 108 canto fifth 141 canto sixth 183 The Lord of the Isles advertisement 225 introduction 227 canto first 23 1 canto second 259 canto third 287 canto fourth 318 canto fifth 350 canto sixth 384 Notes 425 Glossary 609 ROKEBY A POEM IN SIX CANTOS TO JOHN B. S. MORRITT, ESQ. THIS POEM, THE SCENE OF WHICH IS LAID IN HIS BEAUTIFUL DEMESNE OF ROKEBY, IS INSCRIBED, IN TOKEN OF SINCERE FRIENDSHIP, BY WALTER SCOTT INTRODUCTION Between the publication of The Lady of the Lake, which was so eminently successful, and that of Rokehy, in 1813, three years had intervened. I shall not, I believe, be accused of ever having attempted to usurp a superiority over many men of genius, my contemporaries; but, in point of popularity, not of actual talent, the caprice of the public had certainly given me such a temporary superiority over men, of whom, in regard to poetical fancy and feeling, I scarcely thought myself worthy to loose the shoe-latch. On the other hand, it would be absurd affectation in me to deny, that I conceived myself to understand, more perfectly than many of my contemporaries, the manner most likely to interest the great mass of mankind. Yet, even with this belief, I must truly and fairly say that I always considered myself rather as one who held the bets in time to be paid over to the winner, than as hav'ing any pretence to keep them in my own right. In the mean time years crept on, and not without their usual depredations on the passing generation. My sons had arrived at the age when the paternal home was no longer their best abode, as both were destined to activ^e life. The field-sports, to which I was peculiarly attached, had now less interest, and were replaced by other amusements of a more quiet character; and the means and opportunity of pursuing these were to be sought for. I had, indeed, for some years attended to farming, a knowledge of which is, or at least was then, indispensable to the comfort of a family residing in a solitary country-house; but although this was the favourite amusement of many of my friends, I have never been able to consider it as a source of pleasure. I never could think it a matter of passing importance, that my cattle or crops were better or more plentiful than those of my neighbours; and nevertheless I began to feel the necessity INTRODUCTION of some more quiet outdoor occupation, different from those I had hitherto pursued. I purchased a small farm of about one hundred acres, with the purpose of planting and improving it, to which property circumstances afterwards enabled me to make considerable additions; and thus an era took place in my life, almost equal to the important one mentioned by the Vicar of Wakefield, when he removed from the Blue-Room to the Brown. In point of neighbourhood, at least, the change of resi- dence made little more difference. Abbotsford, to which we removed, was only six or seven miles down the Tweed, and lay on the same beautiful stream. It did not possess the roman- tic character of Ashestiel, my former residence; but it had a stretch of meadow-land along the river, and possessed, in the phrase of the landscape-gardener, considerable capabilities. Above all, the land was my own, like Uncle Toby's Bowling- Green, to do what I would with. It had been, though the grati- fication was long postponed, an early wish of mine to connect myself with my mother earth, and prosecute those experiments by which a species of creative power is exercised over the face of Nature. I can trace, even to childhood, a pleasure derived from Dodsley's account of Shenstone's Leasowes, and I envied the poet much more for the pleasure of accomplishing the objects detailed in his friend's sketch of his grounds, than for the possession of pipe, crook, flock, and Phillis to boot. My memory, also, tenacious of quaint expressions, still retained a phrase which it had gathered from an old almanac of Charles the Second's time (when everything down to almanacs affected to be smart), in which the reader, in the month of June, is advised for health's sake to walk a mile or two every day before breakfast, and, if he can possibly so manage, to let his exercise be taken upon his own land. With the satisfaction of having attained the fulfillment of an early and long-cherished hope, I commenced my improve- ments, as delightful in their progress as those of the child who first makes a dress for a new doll. The nakedness of the land was in time hidden by woodlands of considerable extent — the INTRODUCTION smallest of possible cottages was progressively expanded into a sort of dream of a mansion-house, whimsical in the exterior, but convenient within. Xor did I forget what is the natural pleasure of ever\- man who has been a reader; I mean the filling the shelves of a tolerably large library-. All these objects I kept in view, to be executed as convenience should serve; and although I knew many years must elapse before they could be attained, I was of a disposition to comfort myself with the Sjjanish proverb, 'Time and I against any two.' The difficult and indispensable point of finding a permanent subject of occupation was now at length attained; but there was annexed to it the necessity of becoming again a candidate for public favour; for as I was turned improver on the earth of the ever>--day world, it was under condition that the small tenement of Parnassus, which might be accessible to my labours, should not remain uncultivated. I meditated, at first, a poem on the subject of Bruce, in which I made some progress, but afterts-ards judged it advisable to lay it aside, supposing that an English storv' might have more novelty'; in consequence, the precedence was given to Rokehy. If subject and scenery could have influenced the fate of a poem, that of Rokeby should have been eminently distinguished; for the grounds belonged to a dear friend, with whom I had lived in habits of intimacy- for many years, and the place itself united the romantic beauties of the wilds of Scotland with the rich and smiling aspect of the southern portion of the island. But the Cavaliers and Roundheads, whom I attempted to sum- mon up to tenant this beautiful region, had for the public neither the novelty nor the peculiar interest of the primitive High- landers. This, perhaps, was scarcely to be expected, considering that the general mind s>-mpathises readily and at once with the stamp which Nature herself has affixed upon the manners of a people living in a simple and patriarchal state; whereas it has more difficulty in understanding or interesting itself in man- ners founded upon those peculiar habits of thinking or acting which are produced by the progress of society. We could read INTRODUCTION with pleasure the tale of the adventures of a Cossack or a Mongol Tartar, while we only wonder and stare over those of the lovers in the Pleasing Chinese History, where the embarrass- ments turn upon difficulties arising out of unintelligible delica- cies peculiar to the customs and manners of that affected people. The cause of my failure had, however, a far deeper root. The manner, or style, which, by its novelty, attracted the public in an unusual degree, had now, after having been three times before them, exhausted the patience of the reader, and began in the fourth to lose its charms. The reviewers may be said to have apostrophised the author in the language of PsLTnelVs Edwin: And here reverse the charm, he cries. And let it fairly now suffice, The gambol has been shown. The licentious combination of rhymes, in a manner perhaps not very congenial to our language, had not been confined to the author. Indeed, in most similar cases, the inventors of such novelties have their reputation destroyed by their own imita- tors, as Actseon fell under the fury of his own dogs. The present author, like Bobadil, had taught his trick of fence to a hundred gentlemen (and ladies), who could fence very nearly or quite as well as himself. For this there was no remedy; the harmony became tiresome and ordinary, and both the original inventor and his invention must have fallen into contempt if he had not found out another road to public favour. What has been said of the metre only, must be considered to apply equally to the structure of the Poem and of the style. The very best passages of any popular style are not, perhaps, susceptible of imitation, but they may be approached by men of talent; and those who are less able to copy them, at least lay hold of their peculiar features, so as to produce a strong burlesque. In either way, the effect of the manner is rendered cheap and common; and, in the latter case, ridiculous to boot. The evil consequences to an author's reputation are at least as fatal as those which come upon the musical composer when his melody falls into the hands of the street ballad-singer. INTRODUCTION Of the unfavourable species of imitation, the author's style gave room to a very large number, owing to an appearance of facility to which some of those who used the measure unques- tionably leaned too far. The effect of the more favourable imitations, composed by persons of talent, was almost equally unfortunate to the original minstrel, by showing that they could overshoot him with his own bow. In short, the popularity which once attended the School, as it was called, was now fast decaying. Besides all this, to have kept his ground at the crisis when Rokeby appeared, its author ought to have put forth his utmost strength, and to have possessed at least all his original advan- tages, for a mighty and unexpected rival was advancing on the stage, — a rival not in poetical powers only, but in that art of attracting popularity, in which the present writer had hitherto preceded better men than himself. The reader will easily see that Byron is here meant, who, after a little velitation of no great promise, now appeared as a serious candidate, in the first two cantos of Childe Harold. I was astonished at the power evinced by that work, which neither the Hours of Idleness, nor the English Bards and Scotch Revieivers, had prepared me to expect from its author. There was a depth in his thought, an eager abundance in his diction, which argued full confidence in the inexhaustible resources of which he felt himself possessed, and there was some appearance of that labour of the file, which indicates that the author is conscious of the necessity of doing every justice to his work, that it may pass warrant. Lord Byron was also a traveller, a man whose ideas were fired by having seen, in distant scenes of difficulty and danger, the places whose very names are recorded in our bosoms as the shrines of ancient poetry. For his own misfortune, perhaps, but certainly to the high increase of his poetical character. Nature had mixed in Lord Byron's system those passions which agitate the human heart with most violence, and which may be said to have hurried his bright career to an early close. There would have been little wisdom in measuring my force with so formidable an antagonist; INTRODUCTION and I was as likely to tire of playing the second fiddle in the concert, as my audience of hearing me. Age also was advancing. I was growing insensible to those subjects of excitation by which youth is agitated. I had around me the most pleasant but least exciting of all society, that of kind friends and an affectionate family. My circle of employments was a narrow one; it occu- pied me constantly, and it became daily more difficult for me to interest myself in poetical composition : — How happily the days of Thalaba went by! Yet, though conscious that I must be, in the opinion of good judges, inferior to the place I had for four or five years held in letters, and feeling alike that the latter was one to which I had only a temporary right, I could not brook the idea of relinquish- ing literary occupation, which had been so long my chief diver- sion. Neither was I disposed to choose the alternative of sink- ing into a mere editor and commentator, though that was a species of labour which I had practised, and to which I was attached. But I could not endure to think that I might not, whether known or concealed, do something of more importance. My inmost thoughts were those of the Trojan Captain in the galley race : — Non jam prima i)eto Mnestheus, neque vincere certo, Quanquam OI — sed superent, quibus hoc, Neptune, dedist!; Extremoa pudeat redilsse: hoc vincite, cives, Et prohibete nefas.' Ain. lib. V, 194. I had, indeed, some private reasons for my 'Quanquam O!* which were not worse than those of Mnestheus. I have already hinted that the materials were collected for a poem on the sub- ject of Bruce, and fragments of it had been shown to some of my friends, and received with applause. Notwithstanding, there- fore, the eminent success of Byron, and the great chance of his • I seek not now the foremost palm to gain; Though yet — but ah! that haughty wish is vain! Let those enjoy it whom the gods ordain. But to be last, the lags of all the race! — Redeem youraelves and me from that disgrace. Drtden 8 INTRODUCTION taking the wind out of my sails, there was, I judged, a species of cowardice in desisting from the task which I had undertaken, and it was time enough to retreat when the battle should be more decidedly lost. The sale of Rokeby, excepting as compared with that of The Lady of the Lake, was in the highest degree respectable; and as it included fifteen hundred quartos, in those quarto-reading days, the trade had no reason to be dissatisfied. Abbotsford, April, 1830. ROKEBY ADVERTISEMENT The Scene of this Poem is laid at Rokeby, near Greta Bridge, in Yorkshire, and shifts to the adjacent fortress of Barnard Castle, and to other places in that Vicinity. The Time occupied by the Action is a space of Five Days, Three of which are supposed to elapse between the end of the Fifth and the beginning of the Sixth Canto. The date of the supposed events is immediately subsequent to the great Battle of Marston Moor, 3d July, 1644. This period of public confusion has been chosen without any purpose of combining the Fable with the Military or Political Events of the Civil War, but only as affording a degree of probability to the Fictitious Nar- rative now presented to the Public. CANTO FIRST I The moon is in her summer glow, But hoarse and high the breezes blow, And, racking o'er her face, the cloud Varies the tincture of her shroud ; On Barnard's towers and Tees's stream,* She changes as a guilty dream, » See Note i. II ROKEBY When Conscience with remorse and fear Goads sleeping Fancy's wild career. Her light seems now the blush of shame, Seems now fierce anger's darker flame, Shifting that shade to come and go, Like apprehension's hurried glow; Then sorrow's livery dims the air, And dies in darkness, like despair. Such varied hues the warder sees Reflected from the Woodland Tees, Then from old Baliol's tower looks forth, Sees the clouds mustering in the north, Hears upon turret-roof and wall By fits the plashing rain-drop fall. Lists to the breeze's boding sound, And wraps his shaggy mantle round. II Those towers, which in the changeful gleam Throw murky shadows on the stream. Those towers of Barnard hold a guest, The emotions of whose troubled breast, In wild and strange confusion driven. Rival the flitting rack of heaven. Ere sleep stern Oswald's senses tied, Oft had he changed his weary side. Composed his limbs, and vainly sought 12 ROKEBY By effort strong to banish thought. Sleep came at length, but with a train Of feelings true and fancies vain, Mingling, in wild disorder cast, The expected future with the past. Conscience, anticipating time, Already rues the enacted crime. And calls her furies forth to shake The sounding scourge and hissing snake; While her poor victim's outward throes Bear witness to his mental woes, And show what lesson may be read Beside a sinner's restless bed. Ill Thus Oswald's labouring feelings trace Strange changes in his sleeping face, Rapid and ominous as these With which the moonbeams tinge the Tees. There might be seen of shame the blush, There anger's dark and fiercer flush, While the perturbed sleeper's hand Seemed grasping dagger-knife or brand. Relaxed that grasp, the heavy sigh, The tear in the half-opening eye. The pallid cheek and brow, confessed That grief was busy in his breast: 13 ROKEBY Nor paused that mood — a sudden start Impelled the life-blood from the heart; Features convulsed and mutterings dread Show terror reigns in sorrow's stead. That pang the painful slumber broke, And Oswald with a start awoke. IV He woke, and feared again to close His eyelids in such dire repose; He woke, — to watch the lamp, and tell From hour to hour the castle-bell, Or listen to the owlet's cry. Or the sad breeze that whistles by, Or catch by fits the tuneless rhyme With which the warder cheats the time, And envying think how, when the sun Bids the poor soldier's watch be done. Couched on his straw and fancy-free, He sleeps like careless infancy. V Far townward sounds a distant tread. And Oswald, starting from his bed, Hath caught it, though no human ear, Unsharpened by revenge and fear, 14 ROKEBY Could e'er distinguish horse's clank, Until it reached the castle bank. Now nigh and plain the sound appears, The warder's challenge now he hears, ^ Then clanking chains and levers tell That o'er the moat the drawbridge fell, And, in the castle court below, Voices are heard, and torches glow, As marshalling the stranger's way Straight for the room where Oswald lay; The cry was, 'Tidings from the host, Of weight — a messenger comes post.' Stifling the tumult of his breast, His answer Oswald thus expressed, 'Bring food and wine, and trim the fire; Admit the stranger and retire.' VI The stranger came with heavy stride; The morion's plumes his visage hide. And the buff-coat in ample fold Mantles his form's gigantic mould.^ Full slender answer deignM he To Oswald's anxious courtesy, But marked by a disdainful smile He saw and scorned the petty wile, « See Note 2. » See Note 3. IS ROKEBY When Oswald changed the torch's place, Anxious that on the soldier's face Its partial lustre might be thrown, To show his looks yet hide his own. His guest the while laid slow aside The ponderous cloak of tough bull's hide, And to the torch glanced broad and clear The corselet of a cuirassier ; Then from his brows the casque he drew And from the dank plume dashed the dew, From gloves of mail relieved his hands And spread them to the kindling brands, And, turning to the genial board, Without a health or pledge or word Of meet and social reverence said, Deeply he drank and fiercely fed. As free from ceremony's sway As famished wolf that tears his prey. VII With deep impatience, tinged with fear, His host beheld him gorge his cheer, And quaff the full carouse that lent His brow a fiercer hardiment. Now Oswald stood a space aside, Now paced the room with hasty stride, i6 ROKEBY In feverish agony to learn Tidings of deep and dread concern, Cursing each moment that his guest Protracted o'er his ruffian feast, Yet, viewing with alarm at last The end of that uncouth repast, Almost he seemed their haste to rue As at his sign his train withdrew, And left him with the stranger, free To question of his mystery. Then did his silence long proclaim A struggle between fear and shame. VIII Much in the stranger's mien appears To justify suspicious fears. On his dark face a scorching clime And toil had done the work of time, Roughened the brow, the temples bared, And sable hairs with silver shared. Yet left — what age alone could tame — The lip of pride, the eye of flame; The full-drawn lip that upward curled. The eye that seemed to scorn the world. That lip had terror never blanched ; Ne'er in that eye had tear-drop quenched 40 17 ROKEBY The flash severe of swarthy glow That mocked at pain and knew not woe. Inured to danger's direst form, Tornado and earthquake, flood and storm, Death had he seen by sudden blow, By wasting plague, by tortures slow, By mine or breach, by steel or ball. Knew all his shapes and scorned them all.^ IX But yet, though Bertram's hardened look Unmoved could blood and danger brook, Still worse than apathy had place On his swart brow and callous face; For evil passions cherished long Had ploughed them with impressions strong. All that gives gloss to sin, all gay Light folly, past with youth away, But rooted stood in manhood's hour The weeds of vice without their flower. And yet the soil in which they grew. Had it been tamed when life was new, Had depth and vigour to bring forth The hardier fruits of virtuous worth. Not that e'en then his heart had known « See Note 4. 18 ROKEBY The gentler feelings' kindly tone; But lavish waste had been refined To bounty in his chastened mind, And lust of gold, that waste to feed. Been lost in love of glory's meed, And, frantic then no more, his pride Had ta'en fair virtue for its guide. Even now, by conscience unrestrained, Clogged by gross vice, by slaughter stained, Still knew his daring soul to soar, And mastery o'er the mind he bore; For meaner guilt or heart less hard Quailed beneath Bertram's bold regard. And this felt Oswald, while in vain He strove by many a winding train To lure his sullen guest to show Unasked the news he longed to know, While on far other subject hung His heart than faltered from his tongue. Yet nought for that his guest did deign To note or spare his secret pain. But still in stern and stubborn sort Returned him answer dark and short, Or started from the theme to range 19 ROKEBY In loose digression wild and strange, And forced the embarrassed host to buy By query close direct reply. XI Awhile he glozed upon the cause Of Commons, Covenant, and Laws, And Church reformed — but felt rebuke Beneath grim Bertram's sneering look. Then stammered — 'Has a field been fought? Has Bertram news of battle brought? For sure a soldier, famed so far In foreign fields for feats of war, On eve of fight ne'er left the host Until the field were won and lost.' 'Here, in your towers by circling Tees, You, Oswald Wycllffe, rest at ease; Why deem it strange that others come To share such safe and easy home, From fields where danger, death, and toil Are the reward of civil broil?' — 'Nay, mock not, friend! since well we know The near advances of the foe. To mar our northern army's work, Encamped before beleaguered York. Thy horse with valiant Fairfax lay. And must have fought — how went the day?' 20 ROKEBY XII 'Wouldst hear the tale? — On Marston heath* Met front to front the ranks of death ; Flourished the trumpets fierce, and now- Fired was each eye and flushed each brow; On either side loud clamours ring, "God and the Cause!" — "God and the King!" Right English all, they rushed to blows, With nought to win and all to lose. I could have laughed — but lacked the time — To see, in phrenesy sublime, How the fierce zealots fought and bled For king or state, as humour led ; Some for a dream of public good. Some for church-tippet, gown, and hood. Draining their veins, in death to claim A patriot's or a martyr's name. — Led Bertram Risingham the hearts That countered there on adverse parts, No superstitious fool had I Sought El Dorados in the sky! Chili had heard me through her states, And Lima oped her silver gates. Rich Mexico I had marched through, And sacked the splendours of Peru, > See Note S- 21 ROKEBY Till sunk Pizarro's daring name, And, Cortez, thine, in Bertram's fame.' — 'Still from the purpose wilt thou stray! Good gentle friend, how went the day?* XIII 'Good am I deemed at trumpet sound, And good where goblets dance the round, Though gentle ne'er was joined till now With rugged Bertram's breast and brow. — But I resume. The battle's rage Was like the strife which currents wage Where Orinoco in his pride Rolls to the main no tribute tide, But 'gainst broad ocean urges far A rival sea of roaring war; While, in ten thousand eddies driven, The billows fling their foam to heaven, And the pale pilot seeks in vain Where rolls the river, where the main. Even thus upon the bloody field The eddying tides of conflict wheeled Ambiguous, till that heart of flame. Hot Rupert, on our squadrons came, Hurling against our spears a line Of gallants fiery as their wine; Then ours, though stubborn in their zeal, 22 ROKEBY In zeal's despite began to reel. What vvouldst thou more? — in tumult tost, Our leaders fell, our ranks were lost. A thousand men who drew the sword For both the Houses and the Word, Preached forth from hamlet, grange, and down, To curb the crosier and the crown. Now, stark and stiff, lie stretched in gore, And ne'er shall rail at mitre more. — Thus fared it when I left the fight With the good Cause and Commons' right.' — XIV 'Disastrous news!' dark Wycliffe said; Assumed despondence bent his head. While troubled joy was in his eye. The well-feigned sorrow to belie. — * Disastrous news ! — when needed most. Told ye not that your chiefs were lost? Complete the woful tale and say Who fell upon that fatal day. What leaders of repute and name Bought by their death a deathless fame. If such my direst foeman's doom. My tears shall dew his honoured tomb. — No answer? — Friend, of all our host, Thou know'st whom I should hate the most, 23 ROKEBY Whom thou too once wert wont to hate, Yet lea vest me doubtful of his fate.' — With look unmoved — ' Of friend or foe, Aught,' answered Bertram, 'wouldst thou know, Demand in simple terms and plain, A soldier's answer shalt thou gain; For question dark or riddle high I have nor judgment nor reply.* XV The wrath his art and fear suppressed Now blazed at once in Wycliffe's breast, And brave from man so meanly born Roused his hereditary scorn. 'Wretch! hast thou paid thy bloody debt? Philip of Mortham, lives he yet? False to thy patron or thine oath, Traitorous or perjured, one or both. Slave ! hast thou kept thy promise plight, To slay thy leader in the fight?* Then from his seat the soldier sprung. And Wycliffe's hand he strongly wrung; His grasp, as hard as glove of mail, Forced the red blood-drop from the nail — * A health ! ' he cried ; and ere he quaffed Flung from him Wycliffe's hand and laughed — 'Now, Oswald Wycliffe, speaks thy heart! 24 ROKEBY Now play'st thou well thy genuine part! Worthy, but for thy craven fear, Like me to roam a buccaneer. What reck'st thou of the Cause divine, If Mortham's wealth and lands be thine? What carest thou for beleaguered York, If this good hand have done its work? Or what though Fairfax and his best Are reddening Marston's swarthy breast. If Philip Mortham with them lie. Lending his life-blood to the dye? — Sit, then! and as 'mid comrades free Carousing after victory. When tales are told of blood and fear That boys and women shrink to hear, From point to point I frankly tell The deed of death as it befell. XVI 'When purposed vengeance I forego. Term me a wretch, nor deem me foe; And when an insult I forgive. Then brand me as a slave and live ! — Philip of Mortham is with those Whom Bertram Risingham calls foes; Or whom more sure revenge attends. If numbered with ungrateful friends. 25 ROKEBY As was his wont, ere battle glowed, Along the marshalled ranks he rode, And wore his visor up the while. I saw his melancholy smile When, full opposed in front, he knew Where Rokeby's kindred banner flew. "And thus," he said, "will friends divide!" — I heard, and thought how side by side We two had turned the battle's tide In many a well-debated field Where Bertram's breast was Philip's shield. I thought on Darien's deserts pale Where death bestrides the evening gale; How o'er my friend my cloak I threw, And fenceless faced the deadly dew; I thought on Quariana's cliff Where, rescued from our foundering skiff, Through the white breakers' wrath I bore Exhausted Mortham to the shore ; And, when his side an arrow found, I sucked the Indian's venomed wound. These thoughts like torrents rushed along, To sweep away my purpose strong. XVII 'Hearts are not flint, and flints are rent; Hearts are not steel, and steel is bent. 26 ROKEBY When Mortham bade me, as of yore, Be near him in the battle's roar, I scarcely saw the spears laid low, I scarcely heard the trumpets blow; Lost was the war in inward strife. Debating Mortham's death or life. *T was then I thought how, lured to come As partner of his wealth and home, Years of piratic wandering o'er. With him I sought our native shore. But Mortham's lord grew far estranged From the bold heart with whom he ranged ; Doubts, horrors, superstitious fears, Saddened and dimmed descending years; The wily priests their victim sought. And damned each free-born deed and thought. Then must I seek another home. My license shook his sober dome ; If gold he gave, in one wild day I revelled thrice the sum away. An idle outcast then I strayed. Unfit for tillage or for trade. Deemed, like the steel of rusted lance, Useless and dangerous at once. The women feared my hardy look. At my approach the peaceful shook; The merchant saw my glance of flame, 27 ROKEBY And locked his hoards when Bertram came; Each child of coward peace kept far From the neglected son of war. XVIII 'But civil discord gave the call, And made my trade the trade of all. By Mortham urged, I came again His vassals to the fight to train. What guerdon waited on my care? I could not cant of creed or prayer; Sour fanatics each trust obtained, And I, dishonoured and disdained, Gained but the high and happy lot In these poor arms to front the shot ! — All this thou know'st, thy gestures tell; Yet hear it o'er and mark it well. 'T is honour bids me now relate Each circumstance of Mortham's fate. XIX 'Thoughts, from the tongue that slowly part, Glance quick as lightning through the heart. As my spur pressed my courser's side, Philip of Mortham's cause was tried, And ere the charging squadrons mixed His plea was cast, his doom was fixed. 28 ROKEBY I watched him through the doubtful fray, That changed as March's moody day, Till, like a stream that bursts its bank, Fierce Rupert thundered on our flank. 'T was then, 'midst tumult, smoke, and strife, Where each man fought for death or life, 'T was then I fired my petronel, And Mortham, steed and rider, fell. One dying look he upward cast, Of wrath and anguish — 't was his last. Think not that there I stopped, to view What of the battle should ensue ; But ere I cleared that bloody press, Our northern horse ran masterless; Monckton and Mitton told the news ^ How troops of Roundheads choked the Ouse, And many a bonny Scot aghast, Spurring his palfrey northward, past. Cursing the day when zeal or meed First lured their Lesley o'er the Tweed. Yet when I reached the banks of Swale, Had rumour learned another tale; With his barbed horse, fresh tidings say. Stout Cromwell has redeemed the day: * But whether false the news or true, Oswald, I reck as light as you.' « See Note 6. « See Note 7. 29 ROKEBY XX Not then by Wycliffe might be shown How his pride startled at the tone In which his complice, fierce and free, Asserted guilt's equality. In smoothest terms his speech he wove Of endless friendship, faith, and love; Promised and vowed in courteous sort. But Bertram broke professions short. 'Wycliffe, be sure not here I stay, No, scarcely till the rising day; Warned by the legends of my youth, I trust not an associate's truth. Do not my native dales prolong Of Percy Rede, the tragic song,* Trained forward to his bloody fall. By Girsonfield, that treacherous Hall? Oft by the Pringle's haunted side The shepherd sees his spectre glide. And near the spot that gave me name, The moated mound of Risingham, Where Reed upon her margin sees Sweet Woodburne's cottages and trees, Some ancient sculptor's art has shown An outlaw's image on the stone ; ^ > See Note 8. ' See Note 9. 30 ROKEBY Unmatched in strength, a giant he, With quivered back and kirtled knee. Ask how he died, that hunter bold, The tameless monarch of the wold, And age and infancy can tell By brother's treachery he fell. Thus warned by legends of my youth, I trust to no associate's truth. XXI 'When last we reasoned of this deed, Nought, I bethink me, was agreed, Or by what rule, or when, or where, The wealth of Mortham we should share; Then list while I the portion name Our differing laws give each to claim. Thou, vassal sworn to England's throne. Her rules of heritage must own ; They deal thee, as to nearest heir. Thy kinsman's lands and livings fair. And these I yield : — do thou revere The statutes of the buccaneer.^ Friend to the sea, and foeman sworn To all that on her waves are borne, When falls a mate in battle broil His comrade heirs his portioned spoil; » See Note to. 31 ROKEBY When dies in fight a daring foe He claims his wealth who struck the blow; And either rule to me assigns Those spoils of Indian seas and mines Hoarded in Mortham's caverns dark; Ingot of gold and diamond spark, Chalice and plate from churches borne, And gems from shrieking beauty torn. Each string of pearl, each silver bar, And all the wealth of western war. I go to search where, dark and deep, Those trans-Atlantic treasures sleep. Thou must along — for, lacking thee, The heir will scarce find entrance free ; And then farewell. I haste to try Each varied pleasure wealth can buy; When cloyed each wish, these wars afford Fresh work for Bertram's restless sword.' XXII An undecided answer hung On Oswald's hesitating tongue. Despite his craft, he heard with awe This ruffian stabber fix the law; While his own troubled passions veer Through hatred, joy, regret, and fear: 32 ROKEBY Joyed at the soul that Bertram flies, He grudged the murderer's mighty prize, Hated his pride's presumptuous tone. And feared to wend with him alone. At length, that middle course to steer To cowardice and craft so dear, 'His charge,' he said, 'would ill allow His absence from the fortress now; Wilfrid on Bertram should attend. His son should journey with his friend.* XXIII Contempt kept Bertram's anger down, And wreathed to savage smile his frown. 'Wilfrid, or thou — 't is one to me. Whichever bears the golden key. Yet think not but I mark, and smile To mark, thy poor and selfish wile! If injury from me you fear. What, Oswald Wycliffe, shields thee here? I 've sprung from walls more high than these, I 've swam through deeper streams than Tees. Might I not stab thee ere one yell Could rouse the distant sentinel? Start not — it is not my design. But, if it were, weak fence were thine; 49 33 ROKEBY And, trust me that in time of need This hand hath done more desperate deed. Go, haste and rouse thy slumbering son; Time calls, and I must needs be gone.' XXIV Nought of his sire's ungenerous part Polluted Wilfrid's gentle heart, A heart too soft from early life To hold with fortune needful strife. His sire, while yet a hardier race Of numerous sons were Wycliffe's grace, On Wilfrid set contemptuous brand For feeble heart and forceless hand ; But a fond mother's care and joy Were centred in her sickly boy. No touch of childhood's frolic mood Showed the elastic spring of blood ; Hour after hour he loved to pore On Shakespeare's rich and varied lore. But turned from martial scenes and light, From Falstaff's feast and Percy's fight. To ponder Jaques' moral strain, And muse with Hamlet, wise in vain. And weep himself to soft repose O'er gentle Desdemona's woes. 34 ROKEBY XXV In youth he sought not pleasures found By youth in horse and hawk and hound, But loved the quiet joys that wake By lonely stream and silent lake ; In Deepdale's solitude to lie, Where all is cliff and copse and sky ; To climb Catcastle's dizzy peak, Or lone Pendragon's mound to seek. Such was his wont ; and there his dream Soared on some wild fantastic theme Of faithful love or ceaseless spring, Till Contemplation's wearied wing The enthusiast could no more sustain, And sad he sunk to earth again. XXVI He loved — as many a lay can tell, Preserved in Stanmore's lonely dell ; For his was minstrel's skill, he caught The art unteachable, untaught ; He loved — his soul did nature frame For love, and fancy nursed the flame; Vainly he loved — for seldom swain Of such soft mould is loved again ; Silent he loved — in every gaze 35 ROKEBY Was passion, friendship in his phrase; So mused his life away — till died His brethren all, their father's pride. Wilfrid is now the only heir Of all his stratagems and care, And destined darkling to pursue Ambition's maze by Oswald's clue. XXVII Wilfrid must love and woo the bright Matilda, heir of Rokeby's knight. To love her was an easy hest, The secret empress of his breast; To woo her was a harder task To one that durst not hope or ask. Yet all Matilda could she gave In pity to her gentle slave ; Friendship, esteem, and fair regard, And praise, the poet's best reward ! She read the tales his taste approved. And sung the lays he framed or loved ; Yet, loth to nurse the fatal flame Of hopeless love in friendship's name, In kind caprice she oft withdrew The favouring glance to friendship due, Then grieved to see her victim's pain. And gave the dangerous smiles again. 36 ROKEBY XXVIII So did the suit of Wilfrid stand When war's loud summons waked the land. Three banners, floating o'er the Tees, The woe-foreboding peasant sees; In concert oft they braved of old The bordering Scot's incursion bold: Frowning defiance in their pride, Their vassals now and lords divide. From his fair hall on Greta banks. The Knight of Rokeby led his ranks, To aid the valiant northern earls Who drew the sword for royal Charles. Mortham, by marriage near allied, — His sister had been Rokeby's bride. Though long before the civil fray In peaceful grave the lady lay, — Philip of Mortham raised his band, And marched at Fairfax's command; While Wycliffe, bound by many a train Of kindred art with wily Vane, Less prompt to brave the bloody field. Made Barnard's battlements his shield. Secured them with his Lunedale powers, And for the Commons held the towers. 37 ROKEBY XXIX The lovely heir of Rokeby's Knight Waits in his halls the event of fight ; For England's war revered the claim Of every unprotected name, And spared amid its fiercest rage Childhood and womanhood and age. But Wilfrid, son to Rokeby's foe, Must the dear privilege forego, By Greta's side in evening grey, To steal upon Matilda's way. Striving with fond hypocrisy For careless step and vacant eye ; Calming each anxious look and glance, To give the meeting all to chance, Or framing as a fair excuse The book, the pencil, or the muse; Something to give, to sing, to say. Some modern tale, some ancient lay. Then, while the longed-for minutes last. Ah! minutes quickly over-past! — Recording each expression free Of kind or careless courtesy. Each friendly look, each softer tone. As food for fancy when alone. All this is o'er — but still unseen 38 ROKEBY Wilfrid may lurk in Eastwood green, To watch Matilda's wonted round, While springs his heart at every sound. She comes ! — 't is but a passing sight, • Yet serves to cheat his weary night ; She comes not — he will wait the hour When her lamp lightens in the tower; 'T is something yet if, as she past, Her shade is o'er the lattice cast. 'What is my life, my hope?' he said; 'Alas! a transitory shade.' XXX Thus wore his life, though reason strove For mastery in vain with love. Forcing upon his thoughts the sum Of present woe and ills to come. While still he turned impatient ear From Truth's intrusive voice severe. Gentle, indifferent, and subdued. In all but this unmoved he viewed Each outward change of ill and good : But Wilfrid, docile, soft, and mild. Was Fancy's spoiled and wayward child ; In her bright car she bade him ride, With one fair form to grace his side. Or, in some wild and lone retreat, 39 ROKEBY Flung her high spells around his seat, Bathed in her dews his languid head, Her fairy mantle o'er him spread, For him her opiates gave to flow, Which he who tastes can ne'er forego. And placed him in her circle, free From every stern reality. Till to the Visionary seem Her day-dreams truth, and truth a dream. XXXI Woe to the youth whom Fancy gains, Winning from Reason's hand the reins, Pity and woe ! for such a mind Is soft, contemplative, and kind ; And woe to those who train such youth, And spare to press the rights of truth, The mind to strengthen and anneal While on the stithy glows the steel ! O teach him while your lessons last To judge the present by the past; Remind him of each wish pursued. How rich it glowed with promised good; Remind him of each wish enjoyed, How soon his hopes possession cloyed! Tell him we play unequal game Whene'er we shoot by Fancy's aim ; 40 ROKEBY And, ere he strip him for her race, Show the conditions of the chase: Two sisters by the goal are set, Cold Disappointment and Regret; One disenchants the winner's eyes, And strips of all its worth the prize. While one augments its gaudy show, More to enhance the loser's woe. The victor sees his fairy gold Transformed when won to drossy mould, But still the vanquished mourns his loss, And rues as gold that glittering dross. XXXII More wouldst thou know — yon tower survey, Yon couch unpressed since parting day. Yon untrimmed lamp, whose yellow gleam Is mingling with the cold moonbeam. And yon thin form ! — the hectic red On his pale cheek unequal spread ; The head reclined, the loosened hair. The limbs relaxed, the mournful air. — See, he looks up; — a woful smile Lightens his woe-worn cheek a while, — *T is Fancy wakes some idle thought. To gild the ruin she has wrought ; For, like the bat of Indian brakes, 41 ROKEBY Her pinions fan the wound she makes, And, soothing thus the dreamer's pain, She drinks his life-blood from the vein. Now to the lattice turn his eyes, Vain hope ! to see the sun arise. The moon with clouds is still o'ercast, Still howls by fits the stormy blast ; Another hour must wear away Ere the east kindle into day, And hark ! to waste that weary hour, He tries the minstrel's magic power. XXXIII SONG TO THE MOON Hail to thy cold and clouded beam, Pale pilgrim of the troubled sky! Hail, though the mists that o'er thee stream Lend to thy brow their sullen dye! How should thy pure and peaceful eye Untroubled view our scenes below, Or how a tearless beam supply To light a world of war and woe I Fair Queen! I will not blame thee now. As once by Greta's fairy side; 42 ROKEBY Each little cloud that dimmed thy brow Did then an angel's beauty hide. And of the shades I then could chide, Still are the thoughts to memory dear, For, while a softer strain I tried, They hid my blush and calmed my fear. Then did I swear thy ray serene Was formed to light some lonely dell, By two fond lovers only seen, Reflected from the crystal well ; Or sleeping on their mossy cell, Or quivering on the lattice bright. Or glancing on their couch, to tell How swiftly wanes the summer night XXXIV He starts — a step at this lone hour! A voice ! — his father seeks the tower, With haggard look and troubled sense, Fresh from his dreadful conference. 'Wilfrid! — what, not to sleep addressed? Thou hast no cares to chase thy rest. Mortham has fallen on Marston Moor; Bertram brings warrant to secure His treasures, bought by spoil and blood. For the state's use and public good. 43 ROKEBY The menials will thy voice obey; Let his commission have its way, In every point, in every word.' Then, in a whisper, — 'Take thy sword! Bertram is — what I must not tell. I hear his hasty step — farewell ! * CANTO SECOND I Far in the chambers of the west, The gale had sighed itself to rest; The moon was cloudless now and clear, But pale and soon to disappear. The thin grey clouds waxed dimly light On Brusleton and Houghton height; And the rich dale that eastward lay Waited the wakening touch of day, To give its woods and cultured plain. And towers and spires, to light again. But, westward, Stanmore's shapeless swell. And Lunedale wild, and Kelton-fell, And rock-begirdled Gilmanscar, And Arkingarth, lay dark afar; While as a livelier twilight falls. Emerge proud Barnard's bannered walls. High crowned he sits in dawning pale, The sovereign of the lovely vale. II What prospects from his watch-tower high Gleam gradual on the warder's eye ! — 45 ROKEBY Far sweeping to the east, he sees Down his deep woods the course of Tees,^ And tracks his wanderings by the steam Of summer vapours from the stream ; And ere he pace his destined hour By Brackenbury's dungeon-tower, These silver mists shall melt away And dew the woods with glittering spray. Then in broad lustre shall be shown That mighty trench of living stone, And each huge trunk that from the side Reclines him o'er the darksome tide Where Tees, full many a fathom low, Wears with his rage no common foe; For pebbly bank, nor sand-bed here, Nor clay-mound, checks his fierce career, Condemned to mine a channelled way O'er solid sheets of marble grey. Ill Nor Tees alone in dawning bright Shall rush upon the ravished sight; But many a tributary stream Each from its own dark cell shall gleam: Staindrop, who from her sylvan bowers Salutes proud Raby's battled towers; • See Note ii, 46 ROKEBY The rural brook of Eglistone, And Balder, named from Odin's son; And Greta, to whose banks ere long We lead the lovers of the song; And silver Lune from Stanmore wild. And fairy Thorsgill's murmuring child, And last and least, but loveliest still, Romantic Deepdale's slender rill. Who in that dim-wood glen hath strayed, Yet longed for Roslin's magic glade? Who, wandering there, hath sought to change Even for that vale so stern and strange Where Cartland's crags, fantastic rent, Through her green copse like spires are sent? Yet, Albin, yet the praise be thine. Thy scenes and story to combine! Thou bid'st him who by RosHn strays List to the deeds of other days; 'Mid Cartland's crags thou show'st the cave, The refuge of thy champion brave ; Giving each rock its storied tale, Pouring a lay for every dale. Knitting, as with a moral band. Thy native legends with thy land, To lend each scene the interest high Which genius beams from Beauty's eye. 47 ROKEBY IV Bertram awaited not the sight Which sunrise shows from Barnard's height, But from the towers, preventing day, With Wilfrid took his early way, While misty dawn and moonbeam pale Still mingled in the silent dale. By Barnard's bridge of stately stone The southern bank of Tees they won ; Their winding path then eastward cast, And Eglistone's grey ruins past ; ^ Each on his own deep visions bent. Silent and sad they onward went. Well may you think that Bertram's mood To Wilfrid savage seemed and rude; Well may you think bold Risingham Held Wilfrid trivial, poor, and tame; And small the intercourse, I ween, Such uncongenial souls between. V Stern Bertram shunned the nearer way Through Rokeby's park and chase that lay, And, skirting high the valley's ridge, They crossed by Greta's ancient bridge, « See Note i2. 48 ROKEBY Descending where her waters wind Free for a space and unconfined As, 'scaped from Brignall's dark-wood glen, She seeks wild Mortham's deeper den. There, as his eye glanced o'er the mound Raised by that Legion long renowned ^ Whose votive shrine asserts their claim Of pious, faithful, conquering fame, 'Stern sons of war!' sad Wilfrid sighed, 'Behold the boast of Roman pride! What now of all your toils are known? A grassy trench, a broken stone!' — This to himself ; for moral strain To Bertram were addressed in vain. VI Of different mood a deeper sigh Awoke when Rokeby's turrets high ^ Were northward in the dawning seen To rear them o'er the thicket green. O then, though Spenser's self had strayed Beside him through the lovely glade, Lending his rich luxuriant glow Of fancy all its charms to show, Pointing the stream rejoicing free As captive set at liberty, » See Note 13. ' See Note 14. 49 49 ROKEBY Flashing her sparkling waves abroad, And clamouring joyful on her road; Pointing where, up the sunny banks, The trees retire in scattered ranks. Save where, advanced before the rest, On knoll or hillock rears his crest. Lonely and huge, the giant Oak, As champions when their band is broke Stand forth to guard the rearward post, The bulwark of the scattered host — All this and more might Spenser say. Yet waste in vain his magic lay. While Wilfrid eyed the distant tower Whose lattice lights Matilda's bower. VII The open vale is soon passed o'er, Rokeby, though nigh, is seen no more; Sinking 'mid Greta's thickets deep, A wild and darker course they keep, A stern and lone yet lovely road * As e'er the foot of minstrel trode ! Broad shadows o'er their passage fell. Deeper and narrower grew the dell ; It seemed some mountain, rent and riven, A channel for the stream had given, • See Note is. 50 ROKEBY So high the cliffs of limestone grey Hung beetling o'er the torrent's way, Yielding along their rugged base A flinty footpath's niggard space, Where he who winds 'twixt rock and wave May hear the headlong torrent rave, And like a steed in frantic fit, That flings the froth from curb and bit, May view her chafe her waves to spray O'er every rock that bars her way, Till foam-globes on her eddies ride, Thick as the schemes of human pride That down life's current drive amain, As frail, as frothy, and as vain ! VIII The cliffs that rear their haughty head High o'er the river's darksome bed Were now all naked, wild, and grey, Now waving all with greenwood spray; Here trees to every crevice clung And o'er the dell their branches hung; And there, all splintered and uneven. The shivered rocks ascend to heaven ; Oft, too, the ivy swathed their breast And wreathed its garland round their crest, Or from the spires bade loosely flare SI ROKEBY Its tendrils in the middle air. As pennons wont to wave of old O'er the high feast of baron bold, When revelled loud the feudal rout And the arched halls returned their shout, Such and more wild is Greta's roar, And such the echoes from her shore, And so the ivied banners gleam, Waved wildly o'er the brawling stream. IX Now from the stream the rocks recede, But leave between no sunny mead. No, nor the spot of pebbly sand Oft found by such a mountain strand. Forming such warm and dry retreat As fancy deems the lonely seat Where hermit, wandering from his cell, His rosary might love to tell. But here 'twixt rock and river grew A dismal grove of sable yew, With whose sad tints were mingled seen The blighted fir's sepulchral green. Seemed that the trees their shadows cast The earth that nourished them to blast; For never knew that swarthy grove The verdant hue that fairies love, 52 ROKEBY Nor wilding green nor woodland flower Arose within its baleful bower: The dank and sable earth receives Its only carpet from the leaves That, from the withering branches cast, Bestrewed the ground with every blast. Though now the sun was o'er the hill, In this dark spot 't was twilight still, Save that on Greta's farther side Some straggling beams through copsewood glide ; And wild and savage contrast made That dingle's deep and funeral shade With the bright tints of early day, Which, glimmering through the ivy spray, On the opposing summit lay. X The 'lated peasant shunned the dell ; For Superstition wont to tell Of many a grisly sound and sight. Scaring its path at dead of night. When Christmas logs blaze high and wide Such wonders speed the festal tide. While Curiosity and Fear, Pleasure and Pain, sit crouching near. Till childhood's cheek no longer glows. And village maidens lose the rose. S3 ROKEBY The thrilling interest rises higher, The circle closes nigh and nigher, And shuddering glance is cast behind, As louder moans the wintry wind. Believe that fitting scene was laid For such wild tales in Mortham glade; For who had seen on Greta's side By that dim light fierce Bertram stride, In such a spot, at such an hour, — If touched by Superstition's power, Might well have deemed that Hell had given A murderer's ghost to upper heaven. While Wilfrid's form had seemed to glide Like his pale victim by his side. XI Nor think to village swains alone Are these unearthly terrors known, For not to rank nor sex confined Is this vain ague of the mind ; Hearts firm as steel, as marble hard, 'Gainst faith and love and pity barred. Have quaked, like aspen leaves in May, Beneath its universal sway. Bertram had listed many a tale Of wonder in his native dale, That in his secret soul retained 54 ROKEBY The credence they in childhood gained : Nor less his wild adventurous youth Believed in every legend's truth; Learned when beneath the tropic gale Full swelled the vessel's steady sail, And the broad Indian moon her light Poured on the watch of middle night, When seamen love to hear and tell Of portent, prodigy, and spell : What gales are sold on Lapland's shore,* How whistle rash bids tempests roar,^ Of witch, of mermaid, and of sprite, Of Erick's cap and Elmo's light;' Or of that Phantom Ship whose form Shoots like a meteor through the storm When the dark scud comes driving hard, And lowered is every top-sail yard. And canvas wove in earthly looms No more to brave the storm presumes! Then 'mid the war of sea and sky. Top and top-gallant hoisted high, Full spread and crowded every sail. The Demon Frigate braves the gale,^ And well the doomed spectators know The harbinger of wreck and woe. « See Note i6. « See Note 17. ' See Note 18. * See Note 19. 55 ROKEBY XII Then, too, were told in stifled tone Marvels and omens all their own ; How, by some desert isle or key,^ Where Spaniards wrought their cruelty, Or where the savage pirate's mood Repaid it home in deeds of blood, Strange nightly sounds of woe and fear Appalled the listening buccaneer, Whose light-armed shallop anchored lay In ambush by the lonely bay. The groan of grief, the shriek of pain, Ring from the moonlight groves of cane; The fierce adventurer's heart they scare, Who wearies memory for a prayer, Curses the roadstead, and with gale Of early morning lifts the sail, To give, in thirst of blood and prey, A legend for another bay. XIII Thus, as a man, a youth, a child, Trained in the mystic and the wild. With this on Bertram's soul at times Rushed a dark feeling of his crimes; » See Note 20. S6 ROKEBY Such to his troubled soul their form As the pale Death-ship to the storm, And such their omen dim and dread As shrieks and voices of the dead. That pang, whose transitory force Hovered 'twixt horror and remorse — That pang, perchance, his bosom pressed As Wilfrid sudden he addressed : 'Wilfrid, this glen is never trod Until the sun rides high abroad, Yet twice have I beheld to-day A form that seemed to dog our way ; Twice from my glance it seemed to flee And shroud itself by cliff or tree. How think'st thou? — Is our path waylaid? Or hath thy sire my trust betrayed? If so' — Ere, starting from his dream That turned upon a gentler theme, Wilfrid had roused him to reply, Bertram sprung forward, shouting high, 'Whate'er thou art, thou now shalt stand!* And forth he darted, sword in hand. XIV As bursts the levin in its wrath, He shot him down the sounding path; Rock, wood, and stream rang wildly out 57 ROKEBY To his loud step and savage shout. Seems that the object of his race Hath scaled the cliffs ; his frantic chase Sidelong he turns, and now 't is bent Right up the rock's tall battlement; Straining each sinew to ascend, Foot, hand, and knee their aid must lend. Wilfrid, all dizzy with dismay, Views from beneath his dreadful way: Now to the oak's warped roots he clings, Now trusts his weight to ivy strings; Now, like the wild-goat, must he dare An unsupported leap in air; Hid in the shrubby rain-course now, You mark him by the crashing bough, And by his corselet's sullen clank, And by the stones spurned from the bank. And by the hawk scared from her nest, And raven's croaking o'er their guest, Who deem his forfeit limbs shall pay The tribute of his bold essay. XV See, he emerges ! — desperate now All farther course — yon beetling brow, In craggy nakedness sublime, What heart or foot shall dare to climb? 58 ROKEBY It bears no tendril for his clasp. Presents no angle to his grasp : Sole stay his foot may rest upon Is yon earth-bedded jetting stone. Balanced on such precarious prop, He strains his grasp to reach the top. Just as the dangerous stretch he makes, By heaven, his faithless footstool shakes! Beneath his tottering bulk it bends, It sways, it loosens, it descends. And downward holds its headlong way, Crashing o'er rock and copsewood spray! Loud thunders shake the echoing dell ! Fell it alone? — alone it fell. Just on the very verge of fate, The hardy Bertram's falling weight He trusted to his sinewy hands. And on the top, unharmed, he stands! XVI Wilfrid a safer path pursued. At intervals where, roughly hewed. Rude steps ascending from the dell Rendered the cliffs accessible. By circuit slow he thus attained The height that Risingham had gained, And when he issued from the wood 59 ROKEBY Before the gate of Mortham stood. ^ 'T was a fair scene ! the sunbeam lay On battled tower and portal grey; And from the grassy slope he sees The Greta flow to meet the Tees Where, issuing from her darksome bed, She caught the morning's eastern red, And through the softening vale below Rolled her bright waves in rosy glow, All blushing to her bridal bed, Like some shy maid in convent bred. While linnet, lark, and blackbird gay Sing forth her nuptial roundelay. XVII *T was sweetly sung that roundelay, That summer morn shone blithe and gay; But morning beam and wild-bird's call Awaked not Mortham's silent hall. No porter by the low-browed gate Took in the wonted niche his seat; To the paved court no peasant drew; Waked to their toil no menial crew; The maiden's carol was not heard, As to her morning task she fared : In the void offices around > See Note 21. 60 ROKEBY Rung not a hoof nor bayed a hound ; Nor eager steed with shrilling neigh Accused the lagging groom's delay; Untrimmed, undressed, neglected now, Was alleyed walk and orchard bough ; All spoke the master's absent care, All spoke neglect and disrepair. South of the gate an arrow flight, Two mighty elms their limbs unite, As if a canopy to spread O'er the lone dwelling of the dead ; For their huge boughs in arches bent Above a massive monument, Carved o'er in ancient Gothic wise With many a scutcheon and device: There, spent with toil and sunk in gloom, Bertram stood pondering by the tomb. XVIII *It vanished like a flitting ghost! Behind this tomb,' he said, "t was lost — This tomb where oft I deemed lies stored Of Mortham's Indian wealth the hoard. *T is true, the aged servants said Here his lamented wife is laid ; But weightier reasons may be guessed For their lord's strict and stern behest 6i ROKEBY That none should on his steps intrude Whene'er he sought this solitude. An ancient mariner I knew, What time I sailed with Morgan's crew, Who oft 'mid our carousals spake Of Raleigh, Frobisher, and Drake; Adventurous hearts! who bartered, bold, Their English steel for Spanish gold. Trust not, would his experience say. Captain or comrade with your prey^, But seek some charnel, when, at full, The moon gilds skeleton and skull : There dig and tomb your precious heap,* And bid the dead your treasure keep; Sure stewards they, if fitting spell Their service to the task compel. Lacks there such charnel? — kill a slave Or prisoner on the treasure-grave, And bid his discontented ghost Stalk nightly on his lonely post. Such was his tale. Its truth, I ween, Is in my morning vision seen.' XIX Wilfrid, who scorned the legend wild, In mingled mirth and pity smiled, • See Note 22. 62 ROKEBY Much marvelling that a breast so bold In such fond tale belief should hold, But yet of Bertram sought to know The apparition's form and show. The power within the guilty breast, Oft vanquished, never quite suppressed, That unsubdued and lurking lies To take the felon by surprise And force him, as by magic spell,^ In his despite his guilt to tell — That power in Bertram's breast awoke; Scarce conscious he was heard, he spoke: *'T was Mortham's form, from foot to head! His morion with the plume of red. His shape, his mien — 't was Mortham, right As when I slew him in the fight.' — 'Thou slay him? — thou?' — With conscious start He heard, then manned his haughty heart — * I slew him? — I ! — I had forgot Thou, stripling, knew'st not of the plot. But it is spoken — nor will I Deed done or spoken word deny. I slew him ; I ! for thankless pride ; *T was by this hand that Mortham died.* * See Note 33. 63 ROKEBY XX Wilfrid, of gentle hand and heart, Averse to every active part, But most adverse to martial broil, From danger shrunk and turned from toil ; Yet the meek lover of the lyre Nursed one brave spark of noble fire ; Against injustice, fraud, or wrong His blood beat high, his hand waxed strong. Not his the nerves that could sustain, Unshaken, danger, toil, and pain; But, when that spark blazed forth to fllame, He rose superior to his frame. And now it came, that generous mood ; And, in full current of his blood, On Bertram he laid desperate hand. Placed firm his foot, and drew his brand. ' Should every fiend to whom thou 'rt sold Rise in thine aid, I keep my hold. — Arouse there, ho ! take spear and sword ! Attach the murderer of your lord ! ' XXI A moment, fixed as by a spell, Stood Bertram — it seemed miracle, 64 ROKEBY That one so feeble, soft, and tame Set grasp on warlike Risingham. But when he felt a feeble stroke The fiend within the ruffian woke! To wrench the sword from Wilfrid's hand, To dash him headlong on the sand, Was but one moment's work, — one more Had drenched the blade in Wilfred's gore. But in the instant it arose To end his life, his love, his woes, A warlike form that marked the scene Presents his rapier sheathed between. Parries the fast-descending blow, And steps 'twixt Wilfrid and his foe; Nor then unscabbarded his brand, But, sternly pointing with his hand. With monarch's voice forbade the fight, And motioned Bertram from his sight. 'Go, and repent,' he said, 'while time Is given thee; add not crime to crime.' XXII Mute and uncertain and amazed. As on a vision Bertram gazed ! 'T was Mortham's bearing, bold and high, His sinewy frame, his falcon eye, 4d 65 ROKEBY His look and accent of command, The martial gesture of his hand, His stately form, spare-built and tall. His war-bleached locks — 't was Mortham all. Through Bertram's dizzy brain career A thousand thoughts, and all of fear; His wavering faith received not quite The form he saw as Mortham's sprite, But more he feared it if it stood His lord in living flesh and blood. What spectre can the charnel send. So dreadful as an injured friend? Then, too, the habit of command, Used by the leader of the band When Risingham for many a day Had marched and fought beneath his sway, Tamed him — and with reverted face Backwards he bore his sullen pace, Oft stopped, and oft on Mortham stared, And dark as rated mastiff glared. But when the tramp of steeds was heard Plunged in the glen and disappeared ; Nor longer there the warrior stood, Retiring eastward through the wood. But first to Wilfrid warning gives, 'Tell thou to none that Mortham lives.' 66 ROKEBY XXIII Still rung these words in Wilfrid's eart Hinting he knew not what of fear, When nearer came the coursers' tread, And, with his father at their head, Of horsemen armed a gallant power Reined up their steeds before the tower. 'Whence these pale looks, my son?' he said: 'Where's Bertram? Why that naked blade?' Wilfrid ambiguously replied — For Mortham's charge his honour tied — * Bertram is gone — the villain's word Avouched him murderer of his lord ! Even now we fought — but when your tread Announced you nigh, the felon fled.' In Wycliffe's conscious eye appear A guilty hope, a guilty fear; On his pale brow the dew-drop broke, And his lip quivered as he spoke : XXIV *A murderer! — Philip Mortham died Amid the battle's wildest tide. Wilfrid, or Bertram raves or you! Yet, grant such strange confession true. Pursuit were vain — let him fly far — 67 ROKEBY Justice must sleep in civil war.* A gallant youth rode near his side, Brave Rokeby's page, in battle tried; That morn an embassy of weight He brought to Barnard's castle-gate, And followed now in WycHffe's train An answer for his lord to gain. His steed, whose arched and sable neck An hundred wreaths of foam bedeck, Chafed not against the curb more high Than he at Oswald's cold reply; He bit his lip, implored his saint — His the old faith — then burst restraint : XXV 'Yes! I beheld his bloody fall By that base traitor's dastard ball, Just when I thought to measure sword. Presumptuous hope! with Mortham's lord. And shall the murderer 'scape who slew His leader, generous, brave, and true? Escape, while on the dew you trace The marks of his gigantic pace? No ! ere the sun that dew shall dry. False Risingham shall yield or die. — Ring out the castle larum-bell ! Arouse the peasants with the knell I 68 ROKEBY Meantime disperse — ride, gallants, ride! Beset the wood on every side. But if among you one there be That honours Mortham's memory, Let him dismount and follow me! Else on your crests sit fear and shame, And foul suspicion dog your name!' XXVI Instant to earth young Redmond sprung; Instant on earth the harness rung Of twenty men of Wycliffe's band. Who waited not their lord's command. Redmond his spurs from buskins drew, His mantle from his shoulders threw, His pistols in his belt he placed, The greenwood gained, the footsteps traced. Shouted like huntsman to his hounds. 'To cover, hark!' — and in he bounds. Scarce heard was Oswald's anxious cry, 'Suspicion! yes — pursue him — fly — But venture not in useless strife On ruffian desperate of his life; Whoever finds him shoot him dead ! Five hundred nobles for his head ! ' 69 ROKEBY XXVII The horsemen galloped to make good Each path that issued from the wood. Loud from the thickets rung the shout Of Redmond and his eager rout; With them was Wilfrid, stung with ire, And envying Redmond's martial fire, And emulous of fame. — But where Is Oswald, noble Mortham's heir? He, bound by honour, law, and faith, Avenger of his kinsman's death? — Leaning against the elmin tree, With drooping head and slackened knee. And clenched teeth, and close-clasped hands. In agony of soul he stands! His downcast eye on earth is bent. His soul to every sound is lent; For in each shout that cleaves the air May ring discovery and despair. XXVIII What 'vailed it him that brightly played The morning sun on Mortham's glade? All seems in giddy round to ride. Like objects on a stormy tide Seen eddying by the moonlight dim, 70 ROKEBY Imperfectly to sink and swim. What 'vailed it that the fair domain, Its battled mansion, hill, and plain, On which the sun so brightly shone, Envied so long, was now his own? The lowest dungeon, in that hour. Of Brackenbury's dismal tower, ^ Had been his choice, could such a doom Have opened Mortham's bloody tomb! Forced, too, to turn unwilling ear To each surmise of hope or fear. Murmured among the rustics round. Who gathered at the larum sound, He dare not turn his head away. Even to look up to heaven to pray, Or call on hell in bitter mood For one sharp death-shot from the wood ! XXIX At length o'er-past that dreadful space. Back straggling came the scattered chase; Jaded and weary, horse and man. Returned the troopers one by one. Wilfrid the last arrived to say All trace was lost of Bertram's way, Though Redmond still up Brignall wood » See Note 24. 71 ROKEBY The hopeless quest in vain pursued. O, fatal doom of human race ! What tyrant passions passions chase! Remorse from Oswald's brow is gone, Avarice and pride resume their throne; The pang of instant terror by, They dictate thus their slave's reply : XXX * Ay — let him range like hasty hound ! And if the grim wolf's lair be found, Small is my care how goes the game With Redmond or with Risingham. — Nay, answer not, thou simple boy! Thy fair Matilda, all so coy To thee, is of another mood To that bold youth of Erin's blood. Thy ditties will she freely praise, And pay thy pains with courtly phrase; In a rough path will oft command — Accept at least — thy friendly hand; His she avoids, or, urged and prayed, Unwilling takes his proffered aid. While conscious passion plainly speaks In downcast look and blushing cheeks. Whene'er he sings will she glide nigh, And all her soul is in her eye; 72 ROKEBY Yet doubts she still to tender free The wonted words of courtesy. These are strong signs! — yet wherefore sigh, And wipe, effeminate, thine eye? Thine shall she be, if thou attend The counsels of thy sire and friend. XXXI 'Scarce wert thou gone, when peep of light Brought genuine news of Marston's fight. Brave Cromwell turned the doubtful tide, And conquest blessed the rightful side ; Three thousand cavaliers lie dead, Rupert and that bold Marquis fled ; Nobles and knights, so proud of late, Must fine for freedom and estate. Of these committed to my charge Is Rokeby, prisoner at large ; Redmond his page arrived to say He reaches Barnard's towers to-day. Right heavy shall his ransom be ^ Unless that maid compound with thee! Go to her now — be bold of cheer While her soul floats 'twixt hope and fear; It is the very change of tide, When best the female heart is tried — * See Note 25. 73 ROKEBY Pride, prejudice, and modesty, Are in the current swept to sea, And the bold swain who plies his oar May lightly row his bark to shore.* CANTO THIRD I The hunting tribes of air and earth Respect the brethren of their birth ; Nature, who loves the claim of kind, Less cruel chase to each assigned. The falcon, poised on soaring wing, Watches the wild -duck by the spring; The slow-hound wakes the fox's lair; The greyhound presses on the hare ; The eagle pounces on the lamb ; [The wolf devours the fleecy dam: Even tiger fell and sullen bear Their likeness and their lineage spare; Man only mars kind Nature's plan, And turns the fierce pursuit on man, Plying war's desultory trade, Incursion, flight, and ambuscade. Since Nimrod, Cush's mighty son, At first the bloody game begun. II The Indian, prowling for his prey. Who hears the settlers track his way, 75 ROKEBY And knows in distant forest far Camp his red brethren of the war — He, when each double and disguise To baffle the pursuit he tries, Low crouching now his head to hide Where swampy streams through rushes glide, Now covering with the withered leaves ^ The footprints that the dew receives — He, skilled in every sylvan guile. Knows not, nor tries, such various wile As Risingham when on the wind Arose the loud pursuit behind. In Redesdale his youth had heard Each art her wily dalesman dared, When Rooken-edge and Redswair high To bugle rung and blood-hound's cry,^ Announcing Jedwood-axe and spear, And Lid'sdale riders in the rear; And well his venturous life had proved The lessons that his childhood loved. Ill Oft had he shown in climes afar Each attribute of roving war; The sharpened ear, the piercing eye, The quick resolve in danger nigh ; > See Note 26. ' See Note 27. 76 ROKEBY The speed that in the flight or chase Outstripped the Charib's rapid race; The steady brain, the sinewy limb, To leap, to climb, to dive, to swim ; The iron frame, inured to bear Each dire inclemency of air, Nor less confirmed to undergo Fatigue's faint chill and famine's throe. These arts he proved, his life to save, In peril oft by land and wave, On Arawaca's desert shore, Or where La Plata's billows roar, ,When oft the sons of vengeful Spain Tracked the marauder's steps in vain. These arts, in Indian warfare tried, Must save him now by Greta's side. IV *T was then, in hour of utmost need, He proved his courage, art, and speed. Now slow he stalked with stealthy pace. Now started forth in rapid race. Oft doubling back in mazy train To blind the trace the dews retain ; Now clomb the rocks projecting high To baffle the pursuer's eye ; Now sought the stream, whose brawling sound 77 ROKEBY The echo of his footsteps drowned. But if the forest verge he nears, There trample steeds, and glimmer spears; If deeper down the copse he drew, He heard the rangers' loud halloo. Beating each cover while they came, As if to start the sylvan game. 'T was then — like tiger close beset At every pass with toil and net, 'Countered where'er he turns his glare By clashing arms and torches' flare, Who meditates with furious bound To burst on hunter, horse and hound — 'T was then that Bertram's soul arose. Prompting to rush upon his foes: But as that crouching tiger, cowed By brandished steel and shouting crowd, Retreats beneath the jungle's shroud, Bertram suspends his purpose stern. And crouches in the brake and fern, Hiding his face lest foemen spy The sparkle of his swarthy eye.* V Then Bertram might the bearing trace Of the bold youth who led the chase ; > See Note 28. 78 ROKEBY Who paused to list for every sound, Climbed every height to look around, Then rushing on with naked sword. Each dingle's bosky depths explored. 'T was Redmond — by the azure eye ; 'T was Redmond — by the locks that fly Disordered from his glowing cheek ; Mien, face, and form young Redmond speak. A form more active, light, and strong, Ne'er shot the ranks of war along ; The modest yet the manly mien Might grace the court of maiden queen; A face more fair you well might find. For Redmond's knew the sun and wind, Nor boasted, from their tinge when free, The charm of regularity; But every feature had the power To aid the expression of the hour : Whether gay wit and humour sly Danced laughing in his light-blue eye. Or bended brow and glance of fire And kindling cheek spoke Erin's ire. Or soft and saddened glances show Her ready sympathy with woe ; Or in that wayward mood of mind When various feelings are combined, When joy and sorrow mingle near, 79 ROKEBY And hope's bright wings are checked by fear, And rising doubts keep transport down, And anger lends a short-lived frown ; In that strange mood which maids approve Even when they dare not call it love — With every change his features played, As aspens show the light and shade. VI Well Risingham young Redmond knew, And much he marvelled that the crew Roused to revenge bold Mortham dead Were by that Mortham 's foeman led ; For never felt his soul the woe That wails a generous foeman low, Far less that sense of justice strong That wreaks a generous foeman's wrong. But small his leisure now to pause ; Redmond is first, whate'er the cause: And twice that Redmond came so near Where Bertram couched like hunted deer, The very boughs his steps displace Rustled against the ruffian's face, Who desperate twice prepared to start, And plunge his dagger in his heart! But Redmond turned a different way. And the bent boughs resumed their sway, 80 ROKEBY And Bertram held it wise, unseen, Deeper to plunge in coppice green. Thus, circled in his coil, the snake. When roving hunters beat the brake, Watches with red and glistening eye, Prepared, if heedless step draw nigh, With forked tongue and venomed fang Instant to dart the deadly pang; But if the intruders turn aside, Away his coils unfolded glide, And through the deep savannah wind, Some undisturbed retreat to find. VII But Bertram, as he backward drew. And heard the loud pursuit renew. And Redmond's hollo on the wind, Oft muttered in his savage mind — 'Redmond O'Neale! were thou and I Alone this day's event to try. With not a second here to see But the grey cliff and oaken tree, That voice of thine that shouts so loud Should ne'er repeat its summons proud! No ! nor e'er try its melting power Again in maiden's summer bower.' Eluded, now behind him die 49 8i ROKEBY Faint and more faint each hostile cry; He stands in Scargill wood alone, Nor hears he now a harsher tone Than the hoarse cushat's plaintive cry, Or Greta's sound that murmurs by; And on the dale, so lone and wild, The summer sun in quiet smiled. VIII He listened long with anxious heart, Ear bent to hear and foot to start, And, while his stretched attention glows. Refused his weary frame repose. 'T was silence all — he laid him down. Where purple heath profusely strown, And throatwort with its azure bell,^ And moss and thyme his cushion swell. There, spent with toil, he listless eyed The course of Greta's playful tide; Beneath her banks now eddying dun. Now brightly gleaming to the sun, As, dancing over rock and stone, In yellow light her currents shone, Matching in hue the favourite gem Of Albin's mountain-diadem. Then, tired to watch the currents play, I See Note 29. 82 ROKEBY He turned his weary eyes away To where the bank opposing showed Its huge, square cliffs through shaggy wood. One, prominent above the rest, Reared to the sun its pale grey breast; Around its broken summit grew The hazel rude and sable yew ; A thousand varied lichens dyed Its waste and weather-beaten side, And round its rugged basis lay, By time or thunder rent away, Fragments that from its frontlet torn Were mantled now by verdant thorn. Such was the scene's wild majesty That filled stern Bertram's gazing eye. IX In sullen mood he lay reclined, Revolving in his stormy mind The felon deed, the fruitless guilt. His patron's blood by treason spilt; A crime, it seemed, so dire and dread That it had power to wake the dead. Then, pondering on his life betrayed By Oswald's art to Redmond's blade, In treacherous purpose to withhold, So seemed it, Mortham's promised gold, 83 ROKEBY A deep and full revenge he vowed On Redmond, forward, fierce, and proud; Revenge on Wilfrid — on his sire Redoubled vengeance, swift and dire! — If, in such mood — as legends say, And well believed that simple day — The Enemy of Man has power To profit by the evil hour, Here stood a wretch prepared to change His soul's redemption for revenge!^ But though his vows with such a fire Of earnest and intense desire For vengeance dark and fell were made As well might reach hell's lowest shade, No deeper clouds the grove embrowned, No nether thunders shook the ground ; The demon knew his vassal's heart. And spared temptation's needless art. X Oft, mingled with the direful theme, Came Mortham's form — was it a dream? Or had he seen in vision true That very Mortham whom he slew? Or had in living flesh appeared The only man on earth he feared ? — I See Note 30. 84 ROKEBY To try the mystic cause intent, His eyes that on the chff were bent 'Countered at once a dazzling glance, Like sunbeam flashed from sword or lance. At once he started as for fight. But not a foeman was in sight ; He heard the cushat's murmur hoarse, He heard the river's sounding course; The solitary woodlands lay, As slumbering in the summer ray. He gazed, like lion roused, around. Then sunk again upon the ground. 'T was but, he thought, some fitful beam. Glanced sudden from the sparkling stream ; Then plunged him in his gloomy train Of ill-connected thoughts again. Until a voice behind him cried, 'Bertram! well met on Greta-side.' XI Instant his sword was in his hand. As instant sunk the ready brand ; Yet, dubious still, opposed he stood To him that issued from the wood : 'Guy Denzil! — is it thou?' he said; ' Do we two meet in Scargill shade ! — Stand back a space ! — thy purpose show, 85 ROKEBY Whether thou comest as friend or foe. Report hath said, that Denzil's name From Rokeby's band was razed with shame' — *A shame I owe that hot O'Neale, Who told his knight in peevish zeal Of my marauding on the clowns ^ Of Calverley and Bradford downs. I reck not. In a war to strive, Where save the leaders none can thrive, Suits ill my mood ; and better game Awaits us both, if thou 'rt the same Unscrupulous, bold Risingham Who watched with me in midnight dark To snatch a deer from Rokeby Park. How think'st thou?' — 'Speak thy purpose out; I love not mystery or doubt.' — XII *Then list. — Not far there lurk a crew Of trusty comrades staunch and true. Gleaned from both factions — Roundheads, freed From cant of sermon and of creed, And Cavaliers, whose souls like mine Spurn at the bonds of discipline. Wiser, we judge, by dale and wold A warfare of our own to hold > See Note 31. 86 ROKEBY Than breathe our last on battle-down For cloak or surplice, mace or crown. Our schemes are laid, our purpose set, A chief and leader lack we yet. Thou art a wanderer, it is said, For Mortham's death thy steps waylaid, Thy head at price — so say our spies, . Who ranged the valley in disguise. Join then with us : though wild debate And wrangling rend our infant state. Each, to an equal loth to bow, Will yield to chief renowned as thou.* — XIII 'Even now,' thought Bertram, passion-stirred, *I called on hell, and hell has heard! What lack I, vengeance to command. But of staunch comrades such a band? This Denzil, vowed to every evil, Might read a lesson to the devil. Well, be it so ! each knave and fool Shall serve as my revenge's tool.' — Aloud, 'I take thy proffer, Guy, But tell me where thy comrades lie.* 'Not far from hence,' Guy Denzil said; 'Descend and cross the river's bed Where rises yonder cliff so grey.' 87 ROKEBY *Do thou,' said Bertram, 'lead the way.* Then muttered, 'It is best make sure; Guy Denzil's faith was never pure.' He followed down the steep descent. Then through the Greta's streams they went; And when they reached the farther shore They stood the lonely cliff before. XIV With wonder Bertram heard within The flinty rock a murmured din; But when Guy pulled the wilding spray And brambles from its base away, He saw appearing to the air A little entrance low and square. Like opening cell of hermit lone, Dark winding through the living stone. Here entered Denzil, Bertram here; And loud and louder on their ear, As from the bowels of the earth, Resounded shouts of boisterous mirth. Of old the cavern strait and rude In slaty rock the peasant hewed ; And Brignall's woods and Scargill's wave ' E'en now o'er many a sister cave. Where, far within the darksome rift, » See Note 33. 88 ROKEBY The wedge and lever ply their thrift. But war had silenced rural trade, And the deserted mine was made The banquet-hall and fortress too Of Denzil and his desperate crew. There Guilt his anxious revel kept, There on his sordid pallet slept Guilt-born Excess, the goblet drained Still in his slumbering grasp retained ; Regret was there, his eye still cast With vain repining on the past ; Among the feasters waited near Sorrow and unrepentant Fear, And Blasphemy, to frenzy driven, With his own crimes reproaching Heaven; While Bertram showed amid the crew The Master-Fiend that Milton drew. XV Hark ! the loud revel wakes again To greet the leader of the train. Behold the group by the pale lamp That struggles with the earthy damp. By what strange features Vice hath known To single out and mark her own ! Yet some there are whose brows retain Less deeply stamped her brand and stain. 89 ROKEBY See yon pale stripling! when a boy, A mother's pride, a father's joy! Now, 'gainst the vault's rude walls reclined, An early image fills his mind : The cottage once his sire's he sees, Embowered upon the banks of Tees ; He views sweet Winston's woodland scene, And shares the dance on Gainford green. A tear is springing — but the zest Of some wild tale or brutal jest Hath to loud laughter stirred the rest. On him they call, the aptest mate For jovial song and merry feat: Fast flies his dream — with dauntless air. As one victorious o'er despair, He bids the ruddy cup go round Till sense and sorrow both are drowned ; And soon in merry wassail he. The life of all their revelry. Peals his loud song ! — The muse has found Her blossoms on the wildest ground, *Mid noxious weeds at random strewed. Themselves all profitless and rude. — With desperate merriment he sung. The cavern to the chorus rung, Yet mingled with his reckless glee Remorse's bitter agony. 90 ROKEBY XVI SONG O, Brignall banks are wild and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer queen. And as I rode by Dalton Hall, Beneath the turrets high, A maiden on the castle wall Was singing merrily, — CHORUS *0, Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green ; I 'd rather rove with Edmund there Than reign our English queen.' * If, maiden, thou wouldst wend with me, To leave both tower and town, Thou first must guess what life lead we That dwell by dale and down? And if thou canst that riddle read, As read full well you may, Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed, As blithe as Queen of May.' 91 ROKEBY CHORUS Yet sung she, ' Brignall banks are fair," And Greta woods are green ; I 'd rather rove with Edmund there Than reign our English queen. XVII * I read you, by your bugle-horn, And by your palfrey good, I read you for a ranger sworn To keep the king's greenwood.* *A ranger, lady, winds his horn, And 't is at peep of light; His blast is heard at merry morn, And mine at dead of night.' CHORUS Yet sung she, ' Brignall banks are fair. And Greta woods are gay; I would I were with Edmund there, To reign his Queen of May ! * With burnished brand and musketoon So gallantly you come, I read you for a bold dragoon. That lists the tuck of drum.* 92 ROKEBY * I list no more the tuck of drum, No more the trumpet hear ; But when the beetle sounds his hum, My comrades take the spear. CHORUS 'And O, though Brignall banks be fair, And Greta woods be gay, Yet mickle must the maiden dare Would reign my Queen of May! XVIII 'Maiden! a nameless life I lead, A nameless death I '11 die ; The fiend whose lantern lights the mead Were better mate than 1 1 And when I 'm with my comrades met Beneath the greenwood bough, What once we were we all forget, Nor think what we are now. CHORUS 'Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair. And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer queen.' 93 ROKEBY When Edmund ceased his simple song, Was silence on the sullen throng. Till waked some ruder mate their glee With note of coarser minstrelsy. But far apart in dark divan, Denzil and Bertram many a plan Of import foul and fierce designed, While still on Bertram's grasping mind The wealth of murdered Mortham hung; Though half he feared his daring tongue. When it should give his wishes birth, Might raise a spectre from the earth ! XIX At length his wondrous tale he told ; When scornful smiled his comrade bold, For, trained in license of a court, Religion's self was Denzil's sport; Then judge in what contempt he held The visionary tales of eld ! His awe for Bertram scarce repressed The unbeliever's sneering jest ; *'T were hard,' he said, 'for sage or seer To spell the subject of your fear; Nor do I boast the art renowned Vision and omen to expound. Yet, faith if I must needs afford 94 ROKEBY To spectre watching treasured hoard, As ban-dog keeps his master's roof, Bidding the plunderer stand aloof, This doubt remains — thy goblin gaunt Hath chosen ill his ghostly haunt ; For why his guard on Mortham hold, When Rokeby Castle hath the gold Thy patron won on Indian soil By stealth, by piracy and spoil?' — XX At this he paused — for angry shame Lowered on the brow of Risingham. He blushed to think, that he should seem Asserter of an airy dream, And gave his wrath another theme. 'Denzil,' he says, 'though lowly laid. Wrong not the memory of the dead ; For while he lived at Mortham's look Thy very soul, Guy Denzil, shook! And when he taxed thy breach of word To yon fair rose of Allenford, I saw thee crouch like chastened hound Whose back the huntsman's lash hath found. Nor dare to call his foreign wealth The spoil of piracy or stealth ; He won it bravely with his brand 95 ROKEBY When Spain waged warfare with our land.* Mark, too — I brook no idle jeer, Nor couple Bertram's name with fear; Mine is but half the demon's lot, For I believe, but tremble not. Enough of this. Say, why this hoard Thou deem'st at Rokeby Castle stored; Or think'st that Mortham would bestow His treasure with his faction's foe?* XXI Soon quenched was Denzil's ill-timed mirth; Rather he would have seen the earth Give to ten thousand spectres birth Than venture to awake to flame The deadly wrath of Risingham. Submiss he answered, 'Mortham's mind, Thou know'st, to joy was ill inclined. In youth, 't is said, a gallant free, A lusty reveller was he ; But since returned from over sea, A sullen and a silent mood Hath numbed the current of his blood. Hence he refused each kindly call To Rokeby's hospitable hall. And our stout knight, at dawn or morn > See Note 33. 96 ROKEBY Who loved to hear the bugle-horn, Nor less, when eve his oaks embrowned, To see the ruddy cup go round. Took umbrage that a friend so near Refused to share his chase and cheer; Thus did the kindred barons jar Ere they divided in the war. Yet, trust me, friend, Matilda fair Of Mortham's wealth is destined heir.* XXII 'Destined to her! to yon slight maid! The prize my life had wellnigh paid When 'gainst Laroche by Cayo's wave I fought my patron's wealth to save ! — Denzil, I knew him long, yet ne'er Knew him that joyous cavalier Whom youthful friends and early fame Called soul of gallantry and game. A moody man he sought our crew, Desperate and dark, whom no one knew, And rose, as men with us must rise, By scorning life and all its ties. On each adventure rash he roved. As danger for itself he loved ; On his sad brow nor mirth nor wine Could e'er one wrinkled knot untwine; 49 97 ROKEBY 111 was the omen if he smiled, For 't was in peril stern and wild ; But when he laughed each luckless mate Might hold our fortune desperate. Foremost he fought in every broil, Then scornful turned him from the spoil, Nay, often strove to bar the way Between his comrades and their prey ; Preaching even then to such as we, Hot with our dear-bought victory, Of mercy and humanity. XXIII * I loved him well — his fearless part, His gallant leading, won my heart. And after each victorious fight, 'T was I that wrangled for his right, Redeemed his portion of the prey That greedier mates had torn away, In field and storm thrice saved his life, And once amid our comrades' strife.^ Yes, I have loved thee! Well hath proved My toil, my danger, how I loved! Yet will I mourn no more thy fate, Ingrate in life, in death ingrate. Rise if thou canst ! ' he looked around • See Note 34. 98 ROKEBY And sternly stamped upon the ground — 'Rise, with thy bearing proud and high, Even as this morn it met mine eye, And give me, if thou darest, the lie!* He paused — then, calm and passion-freed, Bade Denzil with his tale proceed. XXIV 'Bertram, to thee I need not tell, What thou hast cause to wot so well, How Superstition's nets were twined Around the Lord of Mortham's mind; But since he drove thee from his tower, A maid he found in Greta's bower Whose speech, like David's harp, had sway To charm his evil fiend away. I know not if her features moved Remembrance of the wife he loved, But he would gaze upon her eye, Till the mood softened to a sigh. He, whom no loving mortal sought To question of his secret thought, Now every thought and care confessed To his fair niece's faithful breast; Nor was there aught of rich and rare, In earth, in ocean, or in air. But it must deck Matilda's hair. 99 ROKEBY Her love still bound him unto life; But then awoke the civil strife, And menials bore by his commands Three coffers with their iron bands From Mortham's vault at midnight deep To her lone bower in Rokeby Keep, Ponderous with gold and plate of pride, His gift, if he in battle died.' XXV 'Then Denzil, as I guess, lays train These iron-banded chests to gain. Else wherefore should he hover here Where many a peril waits him near For all his fears of war and peace. For plundered boors, and harts of greese? Since through the hamlets as he fared What hearth has Guy's marauding spared, Or where the chase that hath not rung With Denzil's bow at midnight strung?' ' I hold my wont — my rangers go. Even now to track a milk-white doe.* By Rokeby Hall she takes her lair. In Greta wood she harbours fair, And when my huntsman marks her way, What think'st thou, Bertram, of the prey? » See Note 3S. 100 ROKEBY Were Rokeby's daughter in our power, We rate her ransom at her dower.' XXVI * 'T is well ! — there 's vengeance in the thought, Matilda is by Wilfrid sought; And hot-brained Redmond too, 't is said, Pays lover's homage to the maid. Bertram she scorned — if met by chance She turned from me her shuddering glance, Like a nice dame that will not brook On what she hates and loathes to look ; She told to Mortham she could ne'er Behold me without secret fear, Foreboding evil : — she may rue To find her prophecy fall true ! — The war has weeded Rokeby's train, Few followers in his halls remain ; If thy scheme miss, then, brief and bold, We are enow to storm the hold. Bear off the plunder and the dame, And leave the castle all in flame.' XXVII 'Still art thou Valour's venturous son! Yet ponder first the risk to run: The menials of the castle, true lOI ail i H (f»T f»r^ J ^-j-*^-^ b\ iiU« .•-i^;^ic ds\%o ROKEBY And stubborn to their charge, though few — The wall to scale — the moat to cross — The wicket-grate — the inner fosse ' — * Fool ! if we blench for toys like these, On what fair guerdon can we seize? Our hardiest venture, to explore Some wretched peasant's fenceless door, And the best prize we bear away, The earnings of his sordid day.* *A while thy hasty taunt forbear: In sight of road more sure and fair Thou wouldst not choose, in blindfold wrath Or wantonness a desperate path? List, then; — for vantage or assault, From gilded vane to dungeon vault, Each pass of Rokeby House I know: There is one postern dark and low That issues at a secret spot. By most neglected or forgot. Now, could a spial of our train On fair pretext admittance gain. That sally-port might be unbarred; Then, vain were battlement and ward!' XXVIII * Now speak'st thou well : to me the same If force or art shall urge the game; 102 1 ROKEBY Indifferent if like fox I wind, Or spring like tiger on the hind. — But, hark! our merry men so gay Troll forth another roundelay.* SONG *A weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine ! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for wine! A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green, — No more of me you knew, My love! No more of me you knew. 'This morn is merry June, I trow, The rose is budding fain; But she shall bloom in winter snow Ere we two meet again.' He turned his charger as he spake Upon the river shore. He gave his bridle-reins a shake. Said, 'Adieu for evermore. My love! And adieu for evermore.' * » See Note 36. 103 ROKEBY XXIX 'What youth is this your band among The best for minstrelsy and song? In his wild notes seem aptly met A strain of pleasure and regret.' — 'Edmund of Winston is his name; The hamlet sounded with the fame Of early hopes his childhood gave, — Now centred all in Brignall cave! I watch him well — his wayward course Shows oft a tincture of remorse. Some early love-shaft grazed his heart, And oft the scar will ache and smart. Yet is he useful ; — of the rest By fits the darling and the jest, His harp, his story, and his lay, Oft aid the idle hours away: When unemployed, each fiery mate Is ripe for mutinous debate. He tuned his strings e'en now — again He wakes them with a blither strain.' XXX SONG ALLEN-A-DALE Allen-a-Dale has no faggot for burning, Allen-a-Dale has no furrow for turning, 104 ROKEBY AlIen-a-Dale has no fleece for the spinning, Yet Allen-a-Dale has red gold for the winning. Come, read me my riddle ! come, hearken my tale ! And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-Dale. The Baron of Ravensworth ^ prances in pride, And he views his domains upon Arklndale side. The mere for his net and the land for his game, The chase for the wild and the park for the tame; Yet the fish of the lake and the deer of the vale Are less free to Lord Dacre than AlIen-a-Dale! Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight, Though his spur be as sharp and his blade be as bright; Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord, Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word; And the best of our nobles his bonnet will vail. Who at Rere-cross^ on Stanmore meets Allen-a-Dale! Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come ; The mother, she asked of his household and home : 'Though the castle of Richmond stand fair on the hill. My hall,' quoth bold Allen, 'shows gallanter still; *T is the blue vault of heaven, with its crescent so pale And with all its bright spangles!' said Allen-a-Dale. » See Note 37. » See Note 38. ROKEBY The father was steel and the mother was stone; They hfted the latch and they bade him be gone; But loud on the morrow their wail and their cry : He had laughed on the lass with his bonny black eye, And she fled to the forest to hear a love-tale, And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-Dale ! XXXI 'Thou see'st that, whether sad or gay, Love mingles ever in his lay. But when his boyish wayward fit Is o'er, he hath address and wit ; O, 't is a brain of fire, can ape Each dialect, each various shape!' — *Nay then, to aid thy project, Guy — Soft ! who comes here? ' — 'My trusty spy. Speak, Hamlin! hast thou lodged our deer?'* * I have — but two fair stags are near. I watched her as she slowly strayed From Eglistone up Thorsgill glade. But Wilfrid Wycliffe sought her side. And then young Redmond in his pride Shot down to meet them on their way; Much, as it seemed, was theirs to say: There's time to pitch both toil and net Before their path be homeward set.' » See Note 39. io6 1 ROKEBY A hurried and a whispered speech Did Bertram's will to Denzil teach, Who, turning to the robber band, Bade four, the bravest, take the brand. CANTO FOURTH I When Denmark's raven soared on high, Triumphant through Northumbrian sky, The hovering near her fatal croak Bade Reged's Britons dread the yoke,* And the broad shadow of her wing Blackened each cataract and spring Where Tees in tumult leaves his source. Thundering o'er Caldron and High Force;* Beneath the shade the Northmen came. Fixed on each vale a Runic name,' Reared high their altar's rugged stone, And gave their gods the land they won. Then, Balder, one bleak garth was thine And one sweet brooklet's silver line, And Woden's Croft did title gain . From the stern Father of the Slain; But to the Monarch of the Mace, That held in fight the foremost place. To Odin's son and Sifia's spouse. Near Startforth high they paid their vows, » See Note 40. « See Note 41. » See Note 43. 108 ROKEBY Remembered Thor's victorious fame, And gave the dell the Thunderer's name. II Yet Scald or Kemper erred, I ween, Who gave that soft and quiet scene, With all its varied light and shade, And every little sunny glade, And the blithe brook that strolls along Its pebbled bed with summer song, To the grim God of blood and scar. The grisly King of Northern War. O, better were its banks assigned To spirits of a gentler kind! For where the thicket-groups recede And the rath primrose decks the mead, The velvet grass seems carpet meet For the light fairies' lively feet. Yon tufted knoll with daisies strown Might make proud Oberon a throne. While, hidden in the thicket nigh. Puck should brood o'er his frolic sly; And where profuse the wood-vetch clings Round ash and elm in verdant rings. Its pale and azure-pencilled flower Should canopy Titania's bower. 109 ROKEBY III Here rise no cliffs the vale to shade; But, skirting every sunny glade, In fair variety of green The woodland lends its sylvan screen. Hoary yet haughty, frowns the oak, Its boughs by weight of ages broke; And towers erect in sable spire The pine tree scathed by lightning-fire ; The drooping ash and birch between Hang their fair tresses o'er the green, And all beneath at random grow Each coppice dwarf of varied show, Or, round the stems profusely twined, Fling summer odours on the wind. Such varied group Urbino's hand Round Him of Tarsus nobly planned, What time he bade proud Athens own On Mars's Mount the God Unknown! Then grey Philosophy stood nigh. Though bent by age, in spirit high: There rose the scar-seamed veteran's spear, There Grecian Beauty bent to hear, While Childhood at her foot was placed. Or clung delighted to her waist. no ROKEBY IV 'And rest we here,' Matilda said, And sat her in the varying shade. * Chance-met, we well may steal an hour, To friendship due from fortune's power. Thou, Wilfrid, ever kind, must lend Thy counsel to thy sister-friend ; And, Redmond, thou, at my behest, No farther urge thy desperate quest. For to my care a charge is left. Dangerous to one of aid bereft, Wellnigh an orphan and alone. Captive her sire, her house o'erthrown.* Wilfrid, with wonted kindness graced, Beside her on the turf she placed ; Then paused with downcast look and eye, Nor bade young Redmond seat him nigh. Her conscious diffidence he saw, Drew backward as in modest awe. And sat a little space removed, Unmarked to gaze on her he loved. V Wreathed in its dark-brown rings, her hair Half hid Matilda's forehead fair. Half hid and half revealed to view III ROKEBY Her full dark eye of hazel hue. The rose with faint and feeble streak So slightly tinged the maiden's cheek That you had said her hue was pale ; But if she faced the summer gale, Or spoke, or sung, or quicker moved, Or heard the praise of those she loved, Or when of interest was expressed Aught that waked feeling in her breast, The mantling blood in ready play Rivalled the blush of rising day. There was a soft and pensive grace, A cast of thought upon her face, That suited well the forehead high. The eyelash dark and downcast eye; The mild expression spoke a mind In duty firm, composed, resigned; — 'T is that which Roman art has given, To mark their maiden Queen of Heaven. In hours of sport that mood gave way To Fancy's light and frolic play; And when the dance, or tale, or song In harmless mirth sped time along. Full oft her doting sire would call His Maud the merriest of them all. But days of war and civil crime Allowed but ill such festal time, 112 ROKEBY And her soft pensiveness of brow Had deepened into sadness now. In Marston field her father ta'en, Her friends dispersed, brave Mortham slain, While every ill her soul foretold From Oswald's thirst of power and gold, And boding thoughts that she must part With a soft vision of her heart, — All lowered around the lovely maid, To darken her dejection's shade. VI Who has not heard — while Erin yet Strove 'gainst the Saxon's iron bit — Who has not heard how brave O'Neale ^ In English blood imbrued his steel, Against St. George's cross blazed high The banners of his Tanistry, To fiery Essex gave the foil, And reigned a prince on Ulster's soil? But chief arose his victor pride When that brave Marshal fought and died,^ And Avon-Duff to ocean bore His billows red with Saxon gore. 'T was first in that disastrous fight Rokeby and Mortham proved their might. > See Note 43. « See Note 44. 49 113 ROKEBY There had they fallen amongst the rest, But pity touched a chieftain's breast; The Tanist he to great O'Neale/ He checked his followers' bloody zeal, To quarter took the kinsmen bold, And bore them to his mountain-hold, Gave them each sylvan joy to know Slieve-Donard's cliffs and woods could show, Shared with them Erin's festal cheer, Showed them the chase of wolf and deer. And, when a fitting time was come, Safe and unransomed sent them home, Loaded with many a gift to prove A generous foe's respect and love. VII Years speed away. On Rokeby's head Some touch of early snow was shed; Calm he enjoyed by Greta's wave The peace which James the Peaceful gave, While Mortham far beyond the main Waged his fierce wars on Indian Spain. — It chanced upon a wintry night That whitened Stanmore's stormy height, The chase was o'er, the stag was killed. In Rokeby Hall the cups were filled, » See Note 45. 114 ROKEBY And by the huge stone chimney sate The knight in hospitable state. Moonless the sky, the hour was late, When a loud summons shook the gate, And sore for entrance and for aid A voice of foreign accent prayed. The porter answered to the call, And instant rushed into the hall A man whose aspect and attire Startled the circle by the fire. VIII His plaited hair in elf-locks spread * Around his bare and matted head ; On leg and thigh, close stretched and trim, His vesture showed the sinewy limb; In saffron dyed, a linen vest Was frequent folded round his breast; A mantle long and loose he wore, Shaggy with ice and stained with gore. He clasped a burden to his heart. And, resting on a knotted dart, The snow from hair and beard he shook. And round him gazed with 'wildered look. Then up the hall with staggering pace He hastened by the blaze to place, > See Note 46. ROKEBY Half lifeless from the bitter air, His load, a boy of beauty rare. To Rokeby next he louted low, Then stood erect his tale to show With wild majestic port and tone, Like envoy of some barbarous throne.* 'Sir Richard, Lord of Rokeby, hear! Turlough O'Neale salutes thee dear; He graces thee, and to thy care Young Redmond gives, his grandson fair. He bids thee breed him as thy son, For Turlough 's days of joy are done, And other lords have seized his land. And faint and feeble is his hand. And all the glory of Tyrone Is like a morning vapour flown. To bind the duty on thy soul. He bids thee think on Erin's bowl ! If any wrong the young O'Neale, He bids thee think of Erin's steel. To Mortham first this charge was due, But in his absence honours you. — Now is my master's message by, And Ferraught will contented die.* > See Note 47. 116 ROKEBY IX His look grew fixed, his cheek grew pale, He sunk when he had told his tale; For, hid beneath his mantle wide, A mortal wound was in his side. Vain was all aid — in terror wild And sorrow screamed the orphan child. Poor Ferraught raised his wistful eyes, And faintly strove to soothe his cries; All reckless of his dying pain. He blest and blest him o'er again, And kissed the little hands outspread. And kissed and crossed the infant head. And in his native tongue and phrase Prayed to each saint to watch his days; Then all his strength together drew The charge to Rokeby to renew. When half was faltered from his breast, And half by dying signs expressed, 'Bless thee, O'Neale!' he faintly said, And thus the faithful spirit fled. X 'T was long ere soothing might prevail Upon the child to end the tale : And then he said that from his home 117 ROKEBY His grandsire had been forced to roam. Which had not been if Redmond's hand Had but had strength to draw the brand, The brand of Lenaugh More the Red, That hung beside the grey wolf's head. — 'T was from his broken phrase descried. His foster father was his guide,^ Who in his charge from Ulster bore Letters and gifts a goodly store; But ruffians met them in the wood, Ferraught in battle boldly stood. Till wounded and o'erpowered at length, And stripped of all, his failing strength Just bore him here — and then the child Renewed again his moaning wild. XI The tear down childhood's cheek that flows Is like the dew-drop on the rose ; When next the summer breeze comes by And waves the bush, the flower is dry. Won by their care, the orphan child Soon on his new protector smiled, With dimpled cheek and eye so fair. Through his thick curls of flaxen hair. But blithest laughed that cheek and eye, • See Note 48. 118 ROKEBY When Rokeby's little maid was nigh; 'T was his with elder brother's pride Matilda's tottering steps to guide; His native lays in Irish tongue To soothe her infant ear he sung, And primrose twined with daisy fair To form a chaplet for her hair. By lawn, by grove, by brooklet's strand, The children still were hand in hand, And good Sir Richard smiling eyed The early knot so kindly tied. XII But summer months bring wilding shoot From bud to bloom, from bloom to fruit; And years draw on our human span From child to boy, from boy to man; And soon in Rokeby's woods is seen A gallant boy in hunter's green. He loves to wake the felon boar In his dark haunt on Greta's shore. And loves against the deer so dun To draw the shaft, or lift the gun: Yet more he loves in autumn prime The hazel's spreading boughs to climb. And down its clustered stores to hail Where young Matilda holds her veil. 119 ROKEBY And she whose veil receives the shower Is altered too and knows her power, Assumes a monitress's pride Her Redmond's dangerous sports to chide, Yet listens still to hear him tell How the grim wild-boar fought and fell. How at his fall the bugle rung, Till rock and greenwood answer flung; Then blesses her that man can find A pastime of such savage kind! XIII But Redmond knew to weave his tale So well with praise of wood and dale, And knew so well each point to trace Gives living interest to the chase, And knew so well o'er all to throw His spirit's wild romantic glow. That, while she blamed and while she feared, She loved each venturous tale she heard. Oft, too, when drifted snow and rain To bower and hall their steps restrain. Together they explored the page Of glowing bard or gifted sage ; Oft, placed the evening fire beside. The minstrel art alternate tried, While gladsome harp and lively lay 120 ROKEBY Bade winter night flit fast away: Thus, from their childhood blending still Their sport, their study, and their skill, An union of the soul they prove, But must not think that it was love. But though they dared not, envious Fame Soon dared to give that union name ; And when so often side by side From year to year the pair she eyed, She sometimes blamed the good old knight As dull of ear and dim of sight, Sometimes his purpose would declare That young O'Neale should wed his heir. XIV The suit of Wilfrid rent disguise And bandage from the lovers' eyes; 'T was plain that Oswald for his son Had Rokeby's favour wellnigh won. Now must they meet with change of cheer, With mutual looks of shame and fear; Now must Matilda stray apart To school her disobedient heart. And Redmond now alone must rue The love he never can subdue. But factions rose, and Rokeby sware No rebel's son should wed his heir; 121 ROKEBY And Redmond, nurtured while a child In many a bard's traditions wild, Now sought the lonely wood or stream, To cherish there a happier dream Of maiden won by sword or lance, As in the regions of romance; And count the heroes of his line, Great Nial of the Pledges Nine,^ Shane-Dymas^ wild, and Geraldine,' And Connan-more, who vowed his race For ever to the fight and chase, And cursed him of his lineage born Should sheathe the sword to reap the corn, Or leave the mountain and the wold To shroud himself in castled hold. From such examples hope he drew, And brightened as the trumpet blew. XV If brides were won by heart and blade, Redmond had both his cause to aid, And all beside of nurture rare That might beseem a baron's heir. Turlough O'Neale in Erin's strife On Rokeby's Lord bestowed his life, And well did Rokeby's generous knight » See Note 49. * See Note 50. • See Note 51. 122 ROKEBY Young Redmond for the deed requite. Nor was his Hberal care and cost Upon the gallant stripling lost: Seek the North Riding broad and wide, Like Redmond none could steed bestride; From Tynemouth search to Cumberland, Like Redmond none could wield a brand; And then, of humour kind and free, And bearing him to each degree With frank and fearless courtesy, There never youth was formed to steal Upon the heart like brave O'Neale. XVI Sir Richard loved him as his son; And when the days of peace were done, And to the gales of war he gave The banner of his sires to wave, Redmond, distinguished by his care. He chose that honoured flag to bear,^ And named his page, the next degree In that old time to chivalry.^ In five pitched fields he well maintained The honoured place his worth obtained. And high was Redmond's youthful name Blazed in the roll of martial fame. • See Note 52. » See Note S3. 123 ROKEBY Had fortune smiled on Marston fight, The eve had seen him dubbed a knight; Twice 'mid the battle's doubtful strife Of Rokeby's Lord he saved the life, But when he saw him prisoner made, He kissed and then resigned his blade, And yielded him an easy prey To those who led the knight away. Resolved Matilda's sire should prove In prison, as in fight, his love. XVII When lovers meet in adverse hour, *T is like a sun-glimpse through a shower, A watery ray an instant seen The darkly closing clouds between. As Redmond on the turf reclined, The past and present filled his mind : 'It was not thus,' Afi"ection said, *I dreamed of my return, dear maid! Not thus when from thy trembling hand I took the banner and the brand. When round me, as the bugles blew. Their blades three hundred warriors drew, And, while the standard I unrolled. Clashed their bright arms, with clamour bold 124 ROKEBY Where is that banner now? — its pride Lies whelmed in Ouse's sullen tide! Where now these warriors? — in their gore They cumber Marston's dismal moor! And what avails a useless brand, Held by a captive's shackled hand, That only would his life retain To aid thy sire to bear his chain!' Thus Redmond to himself apart, Nor lighter was his rival's heart; For Wilfrid, while his generous soul Disdained to profit by control. By many a sign could mark too plain. Save with such aid, his hopes were vain. But now Matilda's accents stole On the dark visions of their soul, And bade their mournful musing fly, Like mist before the zephyr's sigh. XVIII *I need not to my friends recall, How Mortham shunned my father's hall, A man of silence and of woe. Yet ever anxious to bestow On my poor self whate'er could prove A kinsman's confidence and love. 125 ROKEBY My feeble aid could sometimes chase The clouds of sorrow for a space ; But oftener, fixed beyond my power, I marked his deep despondence lower. One dismal cause, by all unguessed, His fearful confidence confessed ; And twice it was my hap to see Examples of that agony Which for a season can o'erstrain And wreck the structure of the brain. He had the awful power to know The approaching mental overthrow, And while his mind had courage yet To struggle with the dreadful fit, The victim writhed against its throes, Like wretch beneath a murderer's blows. This malady, I well could mark. Sprung from some direful cause and dark, But still he kept its source concealed, Till arming for the civil field; Then in my charge he bade me hold A treasure huge of gems and gold. With this disjointed dismal scroll That tells the secret of his soul In such wild words as oft betray A mind by anguish forced astray.* 126 ROKEBY XIX mortham's history 'Matilda! thou hast seen me start, As if a dagger thrilled my heart, . When it has happed some casual phrase Waked memory of my former days. Believe that few can backward cast Their thought with pleasure on the past; But I ! — my youth was rash and vain, And blood and rage my manhood stain, And my grey hairs must now descend To my cold grave without a friend ! Even thou, Matilda, wilt disown Thy kinsman when his guilt is known. And must I lift the bloody veil That hides my dark and fatal tale? I must — I will — Pale phantom, cease! Leave me one little hour in peace! Thus haunted, think'st thou I have skill Thine own commission to fulfil? Or, while thou point'st with gesture fierce Thy blighted cheek, thy bloody hearse, How can I paint thee as thou wert, So fair in face, so warm in heart! — 127 ROKEBY XX 'Yes, she was fair! — Matilda, thou Hast a soft sadness on thy brow ; But hers was like the sunny glow, That laughs on earth and all below! We wedded secret — there was need — Differing in country and in creed; And when to Mortham's tower she came. We mentioned not her race and name. Until thy sire, who fought afar, Should turn him home from foreign war. On whose kind influence we relied To soothe her father's ire and pride. Few months we lived retired, unknown To all but one dear friend alone, One darling friend — I spare his shame, I will not write the villain's name! My trespasses I might forget, And sue in vengeance for the debt Due by a brother worm to me. Ungrateful to God's clemency. That spared me penitential time. Nor cut me off amid my crime. — 128 ROKEBY XXI *A kindly smile to all she lent, But on her husband's friend 't was bent So kind that from its harmless glee The wretch misconstrued villainy. Repulsed in his presumptuous love, A vengeful snare the traitor wove. Alone we sat — the flask had flowed. My blood with heat unwonted glowed, When through the alleyed walk we spied With hurried step my Edith glide. Cowering beneath the verdant screen. As one unwilling to be seen. Words cannot paint the fiendish smile That curled the traitor's cheek the while ! Fiercely I questioned of the cause; He made a cold and artful pause, Then prayed it might not chafe my mood "There was a gallant in the wood!" We had been shooting at the deer; My cross-bow — evil chance! — was near: That ready weapon of my wrath I caught and, hasting up the path. In the yew grove my wife I found; A stranger's arms her neck had bound ! I marked his heart — the bow I drew — 49 129 ROKEBY I loosed the shaft — 't was more than true! I found my Edith's dying charms Locked in her murdered brother's arms! He came in secret to enquire Her state and reconcile her sire. XXII 'All fled my rage — the villain first Whose craft my jealousy had nursed; He sought in far and foreign clime To 'scape the vengeance of his crime. The manner of the slaughter done Was known to few, my guilt to none; Some tale my faithful steward framed — I know not what — of shaft mis-aimed ; And even from those the act who knew He hid the hand from which it flew. Untouched by human laws I stood, But God had heard the cry of blood! There is a blank upon my mind, A fearful vision ill-defined Of raving till my flesh was torn, Of dungeon-bolts and fetters worn — And when I waked to woe more mild And questioned of my infant child — Have I not written that she bare A boy, like summer morning fair? — 130 ROKEBY With looks confused my menials tell That armed men in Mortham dell Beset the nurse's evening way, And bore her with her charge away. My faithless friend, and none but he, Could profit by this villainy; Him then I sought with purpose dread Of treble vengeance on his head ! He 'scaped me — but my bosom's wound Some faint relief from wandering found, And over distant land and sea I bore my load of misery. XXIII ' 'T was then that fate my footsteps led Among a daring crew and dread. With whom full oft my hated life I ventured in such desperate strife That even my fierce associates saw My frantic deeds with doubt and awe. Much then I learned and much can show Of human guilt and human woe. Yet ne'er have in my wanderings known A wretch whose sorrows matched my own ! It chanced that after battle fray Upon the bloody field we lay; The yellow moon her lustre shed 131 ROKEBY Upon the wounded and the dead, While, sense in toil and wassail drowned, My ruffian comrades slept around, There came a voice — its silver tone Was soft, Matilda, as thine own — "Ah, wretch!" it said, "what mak'st thou here, While unavenged my bloody bier. While unprotected lives mine heir Without a father's name and care?" XXIV * I heard — obeyed — and homeward drew ; The fiercest of our desperate crew I brought, at time of need to aid My purposed vengeance long delayed. But humble be my thanks to Heaven That better hopes and thoughts has given, And by our Lord's dear prayer has taught Mercy by mercy must be bought ! — Let me in misery rejoice — I 've seen his face — I 've heard his voice — I claimed of him my only child — As he disowned the theft, he smiled ! That very calm and callous look. That fiendish sneer his visage took, As when he said, in scornful mood, "There is a gallant in the wood!" — 132 ROKEBY I (lid not slay him as he stood — ■ All praise be to my Maker given! Long suffrance is one path to heaven.* XXV Thus far the woful tale was heard When something in the thicket stirred. Up Redmond sprung; the villain Guy — For he it was that lurked so nigh — Drew back — he durst not cross his steel A moment's space with brave O'Neale For all the treasured gold that rests In Mortham's iron-banded chests. Redmond resumed his seat ; — he said Some roe was rustling in the shade. Bertram laughed grimly when he saw His timorous comrade backward draw; 'A trusty mate art thou, to fear A single arm, and aid so near! Yet have I seen thee mark a deer. Give me thy carabine — I '11 show An art that thou wilt gladly know, How thou mayst safely quell a foe.' XXVI On hands and knees fierce Bertram drew The spreading birch and hazels through, 133 ROKEBY Till he had Redmond full in view; The gun he levelled — Mark like this Was Bertram never k;nown to miss, When fair opposed to aim there sate An object of his mortal hate. That day young Redmond's death had seen, But twice Matilda came between The carabine and Redmond's breast Just ere the spring his finger pressed. A deadly oath the ruffian swore. But yet his fell design forbore: *It ne'er,' he muttered, 'shall be said That thus I scathed thee, haughty maid!* Then moved to seek more open aim. When to his side Guy Denzil came: 'Bertram, forbear! — we are undone For ever, if thou fire the gun. By all the fiends, an armed force Descends the dell of foot and horse! We perish if they hear a shot — Madman! we have a safer plot — Nay, friend, be ruled, and bear thee back! Behold, down yonder hollow track The warlike leader of the band Comes with his broadsword in his hand.* Bertram looked up; he saw, he knew That Denzil's fears had counselled true, 134 ROKEBY Then cursed his fortune and withdrew, Threaded the woodlands undescried, And gained the cave on Greta-side. XXVII They whom dark Bertram in his wrath Doomed to captivity or death, Their thoughts to one sad subject lent. Saw not nor heard the ambushment. Heedless and unconcerned they sate While on the very verge of fate, Heedless and unconcerned remained When Heaven the murderer's arm restrain* As ships drift darkling down the tide. Nor see the shelves o'er which they glide. Uninterrupted thus they heard What Mortham's closing tale declared. He spoke of wealth as of a load By fortune on a wretch bestowed, In bitter mockery of hate. His cureless woes to aggravate; But yet he prayed Matilda's care Might save that treasure for his heir — His Edith's son — for still he raved As confident his life was saved ; In frequent vision, he averred, He saw his face, his voice he heard, 135 ROKEBY Then argued calm — had murder been, The blood, the corpses, had been seen; Some had pretended, too, to mark On Windermere a stranger bark, Whose crew, with jealous care yet mild, Guarded a female and a child. While these faint proofs he told and pressed, Hope seemed to kindle in his breast ; Though inconsistent, vague, and vain, It warped his judgment and his brain. XXVIII These solemn words his story close : — * Heaven witness for me that I chose My part in this sad civil fight Moved by no cause but England's right. My country's groans have bid me draw My sword for gospel and for law; — These righted, I fling arms aside And seek my son through Europe wide. My wealth, on which a kinsman nigh Already casts a grasping eye. With thee may unsuspected lie. When of my death Matilda hears, Let her retain her trust three years; If none from me the treasure claim. Perished is Mortham's race and name. 136 ROKEBY Then let It leave her generous hand, And flow in bounty o'er the land, Soften the wounded prisoner's lot. Rebuild the peasant's ruined cot; So spoils, acquired by fight afar, Shall mitigate domestic war.' XXIX The generous youths, who well had known Of Mortham's mind the powerful tone, To that high mind by sorrow swerved Gave sympathy his woes deserved ; But Wilfrid chief, who saw revealed Why Mortham wished his life concealed, In secret, doubtless, to pursue The schemes his 'wildered fancy drew. Thoughtful he heard Matilda tell That she would share her father's cell. His partner of captivity. Where'er his prison-house should be; Yet grieved to think that Rokeby Hall, Dismantled and forsook by all. Open to rapine and to stealth, Had now no safeguard for the wealth Entrusted by her kinsman kind And for such noble use designed. * Was Barnard Castle then her choice,* 137 ROKEBY Wilfrid enquired with hasty voice, 'Since there the victor's laws ordain Her father must a space remain? ' A fluttered hope his accent shook, A fluttered joy was in his look. Matilda hastened to reply, For anger flashed in Redmond's eye; — 'Duty,' she said, with gentle grace, 'Kind Wilfrid, has no choice of place; Else had I for my sire assigned Prison less galling to his mind Than that his wild-wood haunts which sees And hears the murmur of the Tees, Recalling thus with every glance What captive's sorrow can enhance; But where those woes are highest, there Needs Rokeby most his daughter's care.' XXX He felt the kindly check she gave. And stood abashed — then answered grave : 'I sought thy purpose, noble maid, Thy doubts to clear, thy schemes to aid. I have beneath mine own command, So wills my sire, a gallant band. And well could send some horsemen wight To bear the treasure forth by night, 138 f ROKEBY And so bestow it as you deem In these ill days may safest seem.' 'Thanks, gentle Wilfrid, thanks,' she said: * O, be it not one day delayed ! And, more thy sister-friend to aid, Be thou thyself content to hold In thine own keeping Mortham's gold. Safest with thee.' — While thus she spoke, Armed soldiers on their converse broke, The same of whose approach afraid The ruffians left their ambuscade. Their chief to Wilfrid bended low, Then looked around as for a foe. 'What mean'st thou, friend,' young Wycliffe said, 'Why thus in arms beset the glade?' 'That would I gladly learn from you; For up my squadron as I drew To exercise our martial game Upon the moor of Barninghame, A stranger told you were waylaid, Surrounded, and to death betrayed. He had a leader's voice, I ween, A falcon glance, a warrior's mien. He bade me bring you instant aid ; I doubted not and I obeyed.' 139 ROKEBY XXXI Wilfrid changed colour, and amazed Turned short and on the speaker gazed, While Redmond every thicket round Tracked earnest as a questing hound, And Denzil's carabine he found; Sure evidence by which they knew The warning was as kind as true. Wisest it seemed with cautious speed To leave the dell. It was agreed That Redmond with Matilda fair And fitting guard should home repair; Aft nightfall Wilfrid should attend With a strong band his sister-friend. To bear with her from Rokeby's bowers To Barnard Castle's lofty towers Secret and safe the banded chests In which the wealth of Mortham rests. This hasty purpose fixed, they part, Each with a grieved and anxious heart. CANTO FIFTH I The sultry summer day is done, The western hills have hid the soin, But mountain peak and village spire Retain reflection of his fire. Old Barnard's towers are purple still To those that gaze from Toller Hill ; Distant and high, the tower of Bowes Like steel upon the anvil glows; And Stanmore's ridge behind that lay Rich with the spoils of parting day, In crimson and in gold arrayed. Streaks yet awhile the closing shade. Then slow resigns to darkening heaven The tints which brighter hours had given. Thus aged men full loth and slow The vanities of life forego. And count their youthful follies o'er Till memory lends her light no more. II The eve that slow on upland fades Has darker closed on Rokeby's glades Where, sunk within their banks profound, 141 ROKEBY Her guardian streams to meeting wound. The stately oaks, whose sombre frown Of noontide made a twihght brown, Impervious now to fainter light, Of twilight make an early night. Hoarse into middle air arose The vespers of the roosting crows. And with congenial murmurs seem To wake the Genii of the stream; For louder clamoured Greta's tide, And Tees in deeper voice replied, And fitful waked the evening wind. Fitful in sighs its breath resigned. Wilfrid, whose fancy-nurtured soul Felt in the scene a soft control, With lighter footstep pressed the ground, And often paused to look around; And, though his path was to his love, Could not but linger in the grove. To drink the thrilling interest dear Of awful pleasure checked by fear. Such inconsistent moods have we, Even when our passions strike the key. Ill Now, through the wood's dark mazes past. The opening lawn he reached at last 142 ROKEBY Where, silvered by the moonlight ray, The ancient Hall before him lay. Those martial terrors long were fled That frowned of old around its head : The battlements, the turrets grey. Seemed half abandoned to decay ; ^ On barbican and keep of stone Stern Time the foeman's work had done. Where banners the invader braved. The harebell now and wallflower waved ; In the rude guard-room where of yore Their weary hours the warders wore, Now, while the cheerful faggots blaze, On the paved floor the spindle plays; The flanking guns dismounted lie. The moat is ruinous and dry, The grim portcullis gone — and all The fortress turned to peaceful Hall. IV But yet precautions lately ta'en Showed danger's day revived again; The courtyard wall showed marks of care The fall'n defences to repair, Lending such strength as might withstand The insult of marauding band. > See Note S4. ROKEBY The beams once more were taught to bear The trembling drawbridge into air, And not till questioned o'er and o'er For Wilfrid oped the jealous door, And when he entered bolt and bar Resumed their place with sullen jar; Then, as he crossed the vaulted porch, The old grey porter raised his torch, And viewed him o'er from foot to head Ere to the hall his steps he led. That huge old hall of knightly state Dismantled seemed and desolate. The moon through transom-shafts of stone Which crossed the latticed oriels shone, And by the mournful light she gave The Gothic vault seemed funeral cave. Pennon and banner waved no more O'er beams of stag and tusks of boar, Nor glimmering arms were marshalled seen To glance those sylvan spoils between. Those arms, those ensigns, borne away, Accomplished Rokeby's brave array, But all were lost on Marston's day! Yet here and there the moonbeams fall Where armour yet adorns the wall. Cumbrous of size, uncouth to sight, And useless in the modern fight, 144 ROKEBY Like veteran relic of the wars Known only by neglected scars. V Matilda soon to greet him came, And bade them light the evening flame; Said all for parting was prepared, And tarried but for Wilfrid's guard. But then, reluctant to unfold His father's avarice of gold, He hinted that lest jealous eye Should on their precious burden pry. He judged it best the castle-gate To enter when the night wore late ; And therefore he had left command With those he trusted of his band That they should be at Rokeby met What time the midnight-watch was set. Now Redmond came, whose anxious care Till then was busied to prepare All needful, meetly to arrange The mansion for its mournful change. With Wilfrid's care and kindness pleased, His cold unready hand he seized. And pressed it till his kindly strain The gentle youth returned again. Seemed as between them this was said, 49 145 ROKEBY 'Awhile let jealousy be dead, And let our contest be whose care Shall best assist this helpless fair.* VI There was no speech the truce to bind ; It was a compact of the mind, A generous thought at once impressed On either rival's generous breast. Matilda well the secret took From sudden change of mien and look, And — for not small had been her fear Of jealous ire and danger near — Felt even in her dejected state A joy beyond the reach of fate. They closed beside the chimney's blaze. And talked, and hoped for happier days, And lent their spirits' rising glow Awhile to gild impending woe — High privilege of youthful time, Worth all the pleasures of our prime! The bickering faggot sparkled bright And gave the scene of love to sight, Bade Wilfrid's cheek more lively glow. Played on Matilda's neck of snow. Her nut-brown curls and forehead high, And laughed in Redmond's azure eye. 146 ROKEBY Two lovers by the maiden sate Without a glance of jealous hate; The maid her lovers sat between With open brow and equal mien ; It is a sight but rarely spied, Thanks to man's wrath and woman's pride. VII While thus in peaceful guise they sate A knock alarmed the outer gate, And ere the tardy porter stirred The tinkling of a harp was heard. A manly voice of mellow swell Bore burden to the music well : — SONG 'Summer eve is gone and past, Summer dew is falling fast; I have wandered all the day. Do not bid me farther stray ! Gentle hearts of gentle kin. Take the wandering harper in ! * But the stern porter answer gave. With 'Get thee hence, thou strolling knave! The king wants soldiers; war, I trow. Were meeter trade for such as thou.' 147 ROKEBY At this unkind reproof again Answered the ready Minstrel's strain: — SONG RESUMED ' Bid not me, in battle-field, Buckler lift or broadsword wield! All my strength and all my art Is to touch the gentle heart With the wizard notes that ring From the peaceful minstrel-string.' The porter, all unmoved, replied, — 'Depart in peace, with Heaven to guide; If longer by the gate thou dwell, Trust me, thou shalt not part so well.* VIII With somewhat of appealing look The harper's part young Wilfrid took: 'These notes so wild and ready thrill, They show no vulgar minstrel's skill; Hard were his task to seek a home More distant, since the night is come; And for his faith I dare engage — Your Harpool's blood is soured by age; His gate, once readily displayed To greet the friend, the poor to aid, 148 ROKEBY Now even to me though known of old Did but reluctantly unfold.' — 'O blame not as poor Harpool's crime An evil of this evil time. He deems dependent on his care The safety of his patron's heir, Nor judges meet to ope the tower To guest unknown at parting hour, Urging his duty to excess Of rough and stubborn faithfulness. For this poor harper, I would fain He may relax: — hark to his strain!* IX SONG RESUMED * I have song of war for knight, Lay of love for lady bright, Fairy tale to lull the heir. Goblin grim the maids to scare. Dark the night and long till day, Do not bid me farther stray ! 'Rokeby's lords of martial fame, I can count them name by name ; * Legends of their line there be. Known to few, but known to me; • See Note S5. 149 ROKEBY If you honour Rokeby's kin, Take the wandering harper in ! * Rokeby's lords had fair regard For the harp and for the bard ; Baron's race throve never well Where the curse of minstrel fell. If you love that noble kin, Take the weary harper in ! * 'Hark! Harpool parleys — there is hope,' Said Redmond, 'that the gate will ope.' — ' For all thy brag and boast, I trow. Nought knowest thou of the Felon Sow,' ^ Quoth Harpool, 'nor how Greta-side She roamed and Rokeby forest wide; Nor how Ralph Rokeby gave the beast To Richmond's friars to make a feast. Of Gilbert Griffinson the tale Goes, and of gallant Peter Dale That well could strike with sword amain, And of the valiant son of Spain, Friar MIddleton, and blithe Sir Ralph; There were a jest to make us laugh! If thou canst tell it, in yon shed. Thou 'st won thy supper and thy bed.* > See Note 56. ISO ROKEBY X Matilda smiled; 'Cold hope,' said she, 'From Harpool's love of minstrelsy! But for this harper may we dare, Redmond, to mend his couch and fare?' - * O, ask me not ! — At minstrel-string My heart from infancy would spring; Nor can I hear its simplest strain But it brings Erin's dream again, When placed by Owen Lysagh's knee — The Filea of O'Neale was he,^ A blind and bearded man whose eld Was sacred as a prophet's held — I 've seen a ring of rugged kerne, With aspects shaggy, wild, and stern, Enchanted by the master's lay. Linger around the livelong day, Shift from wild rage to wilder glee. To love, to grief, to ecstasy. And feel each varied change of soul Obedient to the bard's control. — Ah! Clandeboy! thy friendly floor Slieve-Donard's oak shall light no more;' Nor Owen's harp beside the blaze Tell maiden's love or hero's praise ! > See Note S7. * See Note s8. ROKEBY The mantling brambles hide thy hearth, Centre of hospitable mirth ; All undistinguished in the glade, My sires' glad home is prostrate laid, Their vassals wander wide and far. Serve foreign lords in distant war, And now the stranger's sons enjoy The lovely woods of Clandeboy!' He spoke, and proudly turned aside The starting tear to dry and hide. XI Matilda's dark and softened eye Was glistening ere O'Neale's was dry. Her hand upon his arm she laid, — 'It is the will of Heaven,' she said. 'And think'st thou, Redmond, I can part From this loved home with lightsome heart, Leaving to wild neglect whate'er Even from my infancy was dear? For in this calm domestic bound Were all Matilda's pleasures found. That hearth my sire was wont to grace Full soon may be a stranger's place ; This hall in which a child I played Like thine, dear Redmond, lowly laid, The bramble and the thorn may braid ; 152 ROKEBY Or, passed for aye from me and mine, It ne'er may shelter Rokeby's line. Yet is this consolation given, My Redmond, — 't is the will of Heaven.* Her word, her action, and her phrase Were kindly as in early days; For cold reserve had lost its power In sorrow's sympathetic hour. Young Redmond dared not trust his voice; But rather had it been his choice To share that melancholy hour Than, armed with all a chieftain's power, In full possession to enjoy Slieve-Donard wide and Clandeboy. XII The blood left Wilfrid's ashen cheek, Matilda sees and hastes to speak. — 'Happy in friendship's ready aid, Let all my murmurs here be staid ! And Rokeby's maiden will not part From Rokeby's hall with moody heart. This night at least for Rokeby's fame The hospitable hearth shall flame, And ere its native heir retire Find for the wanderer rest and fire, While this poor harper by the blaze 153 ROKEBY Recounts the tale of other days. Bid Harpool ope the door with speed, Admit him and relieve each need. — Meantime, kind Wyclifife, wilt thou try Thy minstrel skill? — Nay, no reply — And look not sad! — I guess thy thought; Thy verse with laurels would be bought, And poor Matilda, landless now, Has not a garland for thy brow. True, I must leave sweet Rokeby's glades, Nor wander more in Greta shades; But sure, no rigid jailer, thou Wilt a short prison-walk allow Where summer flowers grow wild at will On Marwood Chase and Toller Hill ; ^ Then holly green and lily gay Shall twine in guerdon of thy lay.* The mournful youth a space aside To tune Matilda's harp applied. And then a low sad descant rung As prelude to the lay he sung. XIII THE CYPRESS WREATH 'O, lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress tree! > See Note S9. ROKEBY Too lively glow the lilies light, The varnished holly 's all too bright, The May-flower and the eglantine May shade a brow less sad than mine; But, lady, weave no wreath for me, Or weave it of the cypress tree ! 'Let dimpled Mirth his temples twine With tendrils of the laughing vine ; The manly oak, the pensive yew, To patriot and to sage be due; The myrtle bough bids lovers live. But that Matilda will not give; Then, lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress tree ! 'Let merry England proudly rear Her blended roses bought so dear ; Let Albin bind her bonnet blue With heath and harebell dipped in dew; On favoured Erin's crest be seen The flower she loves of emerald green — But, lady, twine no wreath for me. Or twine it of the cypress tree. 'Strike the wild harp while maids prepare The ivy meet for minstrel's hair; ROKEBY And, while his crown of laurel leaves With bloody hand the victor weaves, Let the loud trump his triumph tell; But when you hear the passing-bell, Then, lady, twine a wreath for me. And twine it of the cypress tree. *Yes! twine for me the cypress bough; But, O Matilda, twine not now! Stay till a few brief months are past, And I have looked and loved my last! When villagers my shroud bestrew With pansies, rosemary, and rue, — Then, lady, weave a wreath for liie, And weave it of the cypress tree.' XIV O'Neale observed the starting tear, And spoke with kind and blithesome cheer ' No, noble Wilfrid ! ere the day When mourns the land thy silent lay. Shall many a wreath be freely wove By hand of friendship and of love. I would not wish that rigid Fate Had doomed thee to a captive's state, Whose hands are bound by honour's law. Who wears a sword he must not draw; iS6 ROKEBY But were it so, in minstrel pride The land together would we ride On prancing steeds, like harpers old, Bound for the halls of barons bold; Each lover of the lyre we 'd seek From Michael's Mount to Skiddaw's Peak, Survey wild Albin's mountain strand, And roam green Erin's lovely land, While thou the gentler souls should move With lay of pity and of love. And I, thy mate, in rougher strain Would sing of war and warriors slain. Old England's bards were vanquished then, And Scotland's vaunted Hawthornden,^ And, silenced on lernian shore, M'Curtin's harp should charm no more!'* In lively mood he spoke to wile From Wilfrid's woe-worn cheek a smile. XV *But,' said Matilda, 'ere thy name, Good Redmond, gain its destined fame. Say, wilt thou kindly deign to call Thy brother-minstrel to the hall? Bid all the household too attend. Each in his rank a humble friend; • See Note 60. ' See Note 6r. 157 ROKEBY I know their faithful hearts will grieve When their poor mistress takes her leave; So let the horn and beaker flow To mitigate their parting woe.' The harper came; — in youth's first prime Himself ; in mode of olden time His garb was fashioned, to express The ancient English minstrel's dress/ A seemly gown of Kendal green With gorget closed of silver sheen ; His harp in silken scarf was slung, And by his side an anlace hung. It seemed some masquer's quaint array For revel or for holiday. XVI He made obeisance with a free Yet studied air of courtesy. Each look and accent framed to please Seemed to affect a playful ease; His face was of that doubtful kind That wins the eye, but not the mind ; Yet harsh it seemed to deem amiss Of brow so young and smooth as this. His was the subtle look and sly That, spying all, seems nought to spy; • See Note 62. ROKEBY Round all the group his glances stole, Unmarked themselves, to mark the whole. Yet sunk beneath Matilda's look, Nor could the eye of Redmond brook. To the suspicious or the old Subtle and dangerous and bold Had seemed this self-invited guest; But young our lovers, — and the rest, Wrapt in their sorrow and their fear At parting of their Mistress dear, Tear-blinded to the castle-hall Came as to bear her funeral pall. XVII All that expression base was gone When waked the guest his minstrel tone; It fled at Inspiration's call, As erst the demon fled from Saul. More noble glance he cast around. More free-drawn breath inspired the sound, His pulse beat bolder and more high In all the pride of minstrelsy! Alas ! too soon that pride was o'er. Sunk with the lay that bade it soar! His soul resumed with habit's chain Its vices wild and follies vain, 159 ROKEBY And gave the talent with him born To be a common curse and scorn. Such was the youth whom Rokeby's maid With condescending kindness prayed Here to renew the strains she loved, ,^ At distance heard and well approved. XVIII SONG THE HARP * I was a wild and wayward boy, My childhood scorned each childish toy; Retired from all, reserved and coy, To musing prone, I wooed my solitary joy, My Harp alone. * My youth with bold ambition's mood Despised the humble stream and wood Where my poor father's cottage stood, To fame unknown; — What should my soaring views make good? My Harp alone! * Love came with all his frantic fire, And wild romance of vain desire: i6o ROKEBY The baron's daughter heard my lyre And praised the tone; — What could presumptuous hope inspire? My Harp alone! *At manhood's touch the bubble burst, And manhood's pride the vision curst, And all that had my folly nursed Love's sway to own; Yet spared the spell that lulled me first, My Harp alone! *Woe came with war, and want with woe. And it was mine to undergo Each outrage of the rebel foe : — Can aught atone My fields laid waste, my cot laid low? My Harp alone! * Ambition's dreams I 've seen depart, Have rued of penury the smart, Have felt of love the venomed dart. When hope was flown; Yet rests one solace to my heart, — My Harp alone! * Then over mountain, moor, and hill, My faithful Harp, I'll bear thee still; 49 i6i ROKEBY And when this life of want and ill Is wellnigh gone, Thy strings mine elegy shall thrill, My Harp alone!* XIX *A pleasing lay!' Matilda said; But Harpool shook his old grey head, And took his baton and his torch To seek his guard-room in the porch. Edmund observed — with sudden change Among the strings his fingers range, Until they waked a bolder glee Of military melody; Then paused amid the martial sound, And looked with well-feigned fear around : — 'None to this noble house belong,' He said, 'that would a minstrel wrong Whose fate has been through good and ill To love his Royal Master still, And with your honoured leave would fain Rejoice you with a royal strain.* Then, as assured by sign and look, The warlike tone again he took ; And Harpool stopped and turned to hear A ditty of the Cavalier. 162 4 ROKEBY XX SONG THE CAVALIER * While the dawn on the mountain was misty and grey, My true love has mounted his steed and away, Over hill, over valley, o'er dale, and o'er down; Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the Crown ! * He has doffed the silk doublet the breastplate to bear, He has placed the steel-cap o'er his long-flowing hair, From his belt to his stirrup his broadsword hangs down, — Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the Crown ! * For the rights of fair England that broadsword he draws, Her King is his leader, her Church is his cause; His watchword is honour, his pay is renown, — God strike with the gallant that strikes for the Crown! ' They may boast of their Fairfax, their Waller, and all The roundheaded rebels of Westminster Hall ; But tell these bold traitors of London's proud town. That the spears of the North have encircled the Crown. 163 ROKEBY * There's Derby and Cavendish, dread of their foes; There's Erin's highOrmond and Scotland's Montrose! Would you match the base Skippon, and Massey, and Brown, With the Barons of England that fight for the Crown? ' Now joy to the crest of the brave Cavalier! Be his banner unconquered, resistless his spear, Till in peace and in triumph his toils he may drown, In a pledge to fair England, her Church, and her Crown.' XXI 'Alas!' Matilda said, 'that strain. Good harper, now is heard in vain! The time has been at such a sound When Rokeby's vassals gathered round. An hundred manly hearts would bound; But now, the stirring verse we hear Like trump in dying soldier's ear! Listless and sad the notes we own. The power to answer them is flown. Yet not without his meet applause Be he that sings the rightful cause. Even when the crisis of its fate To human eye seems desperate. While Rokeby's heir such power retains, 164 ROKEBY Let this slight guerdon pay thy pains: — And lend thy harp; I fain would try If my poor skill can aught supply, Ere yet I leave my fathers' hall, To mourn the cause in which we fall.' XXII The harper with a downcast look And trembling hand her bounty took. As yet the conscious pride of art Had steeled him in his treacherous part; A powerful spring of force unguessed That hath each gentler mood suppressed, And reigned in many a human breast. From his that plans the red campaign To his that wastes the woodland reign. The failing wing, the blood-shot eye The sportsman marks with apathy, Each feeling of his victim's ill Drowned in his own successful skill. The veteran, too, who now no more Aspires to head the battle's roar. Loves still the triumph of his art, And traces on the pencilled chart Some stern invader's destined way Through blood and ruin to his prey; Patriots to death, and towns to flame i6s ROKEBY He dooms, to raise another's name, And shares the guilt, though not the fame. What pays him for his span of time Spent in premeditating crime? What against pity arms his heart? It is the conscious pride of art. XXIII But principles in Edmund's mind Were baseless, vague, and undefined. His soul, like bark with rudder lost, On passion's changeful tide was tost; Nor vice nor virtue had the power Beyond the impression of the hour; And O, when Passion rules, how rare The hours that fall to Virtue's share! Yet now she roused her — for the pride That lack of sterner guilt supplied Could scarce support him when arose The lay that mourned Matilda's woes. SONG THE FAREWELL ^The sound of Rokeby's woods I hear, They mingle with the song: Dark Greta's voice is in mine ear, I must not hear them long. i66 ROKEBY From every loved and native haunt The native heir must stray, And, like a ghost whom sunbeams daunt, Must part before the day. 'Soon from the halls my fathers reared, Their 'scutcheons may descend, A line so long beloved and feared May soon obscurely end. No longer here Matilda's tone Shall bid these echoes swell ; Yet shall they hear her proudly own The cause in which we fell.' The lady paused, and then again Resumed the lay in loftier strain. — XXIV 'Let our halls and towers decay, Be our name and line forgot, Lands and manors pass away, — We but share our monarch's lot. If no more our annals show Battles won and banners taken. Still in death, defeat, and woe, Ours be loyalty unshaken! 167 ROKEBY * Constant still in danger's hour, Princes owned our fathers' aid ; Lands and honours, wealth and power, Well their loyalty repaid. Perish wealth and power and pride, Mortal boons by mortals given ! But let constancy abide, Constancy 's the gift of Heaven.' XXV While thus Matilda's lay was heard, A thousand thoughts in Edmund stirred. In peasant life he might have known As fair a face, as sweet a tone; But village notes could ne'er supply That rich and varied melody, And ne'er in cottage maid was seen The easy dignity of mien. Claiming respect yet waiving state, That marks the daughters of the great. Yet not perchance had these alone His scheme of purposed guilt o'erthrown; But while her energy of mind Superior rose to griefs combined, Lending its kindling to her eye, Giving her form new majesty, — To Edmund's thought Matilda seemed i68 ROKEBY The very object he had dreamed When, long ere guilt his soul had known, In Winston bowers he mused alone, Taxing his fancy to combine The face, the air, the voice divine, Of princess fair by cruel fate Reft of her honours, power, and state, Till to her rightful realm restored By destined hero's conquering sword. XXVI 'Such was my vision!' Edmund thought; 'And have I then the ruin wrought Of such a maid that fancy ne'er In fairest vision formed her peer? Was it my hand that could unclose The postern to her ruthless foes? Foes lost to honour, law, and faith, Their kindest mercy sudden death! Have I done this? I, who have swore That if the globe such angel bore, I would have traced its circle broad To kiss the ground on which she trode ! — And now — O, would that earth would rive And close upon me while alive ! — Is there no hope? — is all then lost? — Bertram's already on his post! 169 ROKEBY Even now beside the hall's arched door I saw his shadow cross the floor! He was to wait my signal strain — A little respite thus we gain : By what I heard the menials say, Young Wycliffe's troop are on their way Alarm precipitates the crime! My harp must wear away the time.' — And then in accents faint and low He faltered forth a tale of woe. XXVII BALLAD '"And whither would you lead me then?" Quoth the friar of orders grey; And the ruffians twain replied again, "By a dying woman to pray." — *"I see," he said, "a lovely sight, A sight bodes little harm, A lady as a lily bright With an infant on her arm." — *"Then do thine office, friar grey. And see thou shrive her free! Else shall the sprite that parts to-night Fling all its guilt on thee. 170 ROKEBY '"Let mass be said and trentals read When thou 'rt to convent gone, And bid the bell of St. Benedict Toll out its deepest tone." 'The shrift is done, the friar is gone, Blindfolded as he came — Next morning all in Littlecot Hall Were weeping for their dame. 'Wild Darrell is an altered man, The village crones can tell ; He looks pale as clay and strives to pray, If he hears the convent bell. *If prince or peer cross Durrell's way, He '11 beard him in his pride — If he meet a friar of orders grey, He droops and turns aside.* * XXVIII 'Harper! methinks thy magic lays,* Matilda said, 'can goblins raise! Wellnigh my fancy can discern Near the dark porch a visage stern; » See Note 63. ROKEBY E'en now in yonder shadowy nook I see it! — Redmond, Wilfrid, look! — A human form distinct and clear — God, for thy mercy! — It draws near!' She saw too true. Stride after stride, The centre of that chamber wide Fierce Bertram gained ; then made a stand And, proudly waving with his hand. Thundered — 'Be still, upon your lives! — He bleeds who speaks, he dies who strives.* Behind their chief the robber crew, Forth from the darkened portal drew In silence — save that echo dread Returned their heavy measured tread. The lamp's uncertain lustre gave Their arms to gleam, their plumes to wave; File after file in order pass. Like forms on Banquo's mystic glass. Then, halting at their leader's sign. At once they formed and curved their line, Hemming within its crescent drear Their victims like a herd of deer. Another sign, and to the aim Levelled at once their muskets came, As waiting but their chieftain's word To make their fatal volley heard. 172 ROKEBY XXIX Back in a heap the menials drew; Yet, even in mortal terror true, Their pale and startled group oppose Between Matilda and the foes. 'O, haste thee, Wilfrid!' Redmond cried; * Undo that wicket by thy side I Bear hence Matilda — gain the wood — The pass may be awhile made good — Thy band ere this must sure be nigh — speak not — dally not — but fly ! ' While yet the crowd their motions hide, Through the low wicket door they glide. Through vaulted passages they wind, In Gothic intricacy twined; Wilfrid half led and half he bore Matilda to the postern door, And safe beneath the forest tree, The lady stands at liberty. The moonbeams, the fresh gale's caress, Renewed suspended consciousness ; — 'Where's Redmond?' eagerly she cries: 'Thou answer'st not — he dies! he dies! And thou hast left him all bereft Of mortal aid — with murderers left ! 1 know it well — he would not yield 173 ROKEBY His sword to man — his doom is sealed ! For my scorned life, which thou hast bought At price of his, I thank thee not.' XXX The unjust reproach, the angry look, The heart of Wilfrid could not brook. *Lady,' he said, 'my band so near, In safety thou mayst rest thee here. For Redmond's death thou shalt not mourn, If mine can buy his safe return.' He turned away — his heart throbbed high, The tear was bursting from his eye; The sense of her injustice pressed Upon the maid's distracted breast, — *Stay, Wilfrid, stay! all aid is vain!' He heard but turned him not again! He reaches now the postern door, Now enters — and is seen no more. XXXI With all the agony that e'er Was gendered 'twixt suspense and fear, She watched the line of windows tall Whose Gothic lattice lights the hall, Distinguished by the paly red The lamps in dim reflection shed, 174 ROKEBY While all beside in wan moonlight Each grated casement glimmered white. No sight of harm, no sound of ill, It is a deep and midnight still. Who looked upon the scene had guessed All in the castle were at rest — When sudden on the windows shone A lightning flash just seen and gone! A shot is heard — again the flame Flashed thick and fast — a volley came ! Then echoed wildly from within Of shout and scream the mingled din, And weapon-clash and maddening cry, Of those who kill and those who die ! — As filled the hall with sulphurous smoke, More red, more dark, the death-flash broke, And forms were on the lattice cast That struck or struggled as they past. XXXII What sounds upon the midnight wind Approach so rapidly behind? It is, it is, the tramp of steeds, Matilda hears the sound, she speeds. Seizes upon the leader's rein — *0, haste to aid ere aid be vain! Fly to the postern — gain the hall ! ' 175 ROKEBY From saddle spring the troopers all ; Their gallant steeds at liberty Run wild along the moonlight lea. But ere they burst upon the scene Full stubborn had the conflict been. When Bertram marked Matilda's flight, It gave the signal for the fight; And Rokeby's veterans, seamed with scars Of Scotland's and of Erin's wars, Their momentary panic o'er, Stood to the arms which then they bore — For they were weaponed and prepared Their mistress on her way to guard. Then cheered them to the fight O'Neale, Then pealed the shot, and clashed the steel; The war-smoke soon with sable breath Darkened the scene of blood and death, While on the few defenders close The bandits with redoubled blows, And, twice driven back, yet fierce and fell Renew the charge with frantic yell. XXXIII Wilfrid has fallen — but o'er him stood Young Redmond soiled with smoke and blood, Cheering his mates with heart and hand Still to make good their desperate stand : 176 ROKEBY *Up, comrades, up! In Rokeby halls Ne'er be it said our courage falls. What! faint ye for their savage cry, Or do the smoke-wreaths daunt your eye? These rafters have returned a shout As loud at Rokeby's wassail rout, As thick a smoke these hearths have given At Hallow-tide or Christmas-even.^ Stand to it yet! renew the fight For Rokeby's and Matilda's right! These slaves! they dare not hand to hand Bide buffet from a true man's brand.' Impetuous, active, fierce, and young, Upon the advancing foes he sprung. Woe to the wretch at whom is bent His brandished falchion's sheer descent! Backward they scattered as he came, Like wolves before the levin flame. When, 'mid their howling conclave driven, Hath glanced the thunderbolt of heaven. Bertram rushed on — But Harpool clasped His knees, although in death he gasped. His falling corpse before him flung. And round the trammelled ruffian clung. Just then the soldiers filled the dome. And shouting charged the felons home I See Note 64. 49 177 ROKEBY So fiercely that in panic dread They broke, they yielded, fell, or fled, Bertram's stern voice they heed no more, Though heard above the battle's roar; While, trampling down the dying man, He strove with volleyed threat and ban In scorn of odds, in fate's despite, To rally up the desperate fight. XXXIV Soon murkier clouds the hall enfold Than e'er from battle-thunders rolled, So dense the combatants scarce know To aim or to avoid the blow. Smothering and blindfold grows the fight — But soon shall dawn a dismal light! 'Mid cries and clashing arms there came The hollow sound of rushing flame; New horrors on the tumult dire Arise — the castle is on fire ! Doubtful if chance had cast the brand Or frantic Bertram's desperate hand, Matilda saw — for frequent broke From the dim casements gusts of smoke, Yon tower, which late so clear defined On the fair hemisphere reclined That, pencilled on its azure pure, 178 ROKEBY The eye could count each embrasure, Now, swathed within the sweeping cloud, Seems giant-spectre in his shroud ; Till, from each loop-hole flashing light, A spout of fire shines ruddy bright, And, gathering to united glare. Streams high into the midnight air; A dismal beacon, far and wide That wakened Greta's slumbering side. Soon all beneath, through gallery long And pendent arch, the fire flashed strong, Snatching whatever could maintain, Raise, or extend its furious reign ; Startling with closer cause of dread The females who the conflict fled, And now rushed forth upon the plain, Filling the air with clamours vain. XXXV But ceased not yet the hall within The shriek, the shout, the carnage-din, Till bursting lattices give proof The flames have caught the raftered roof What! wait they till its beams amain Crash on the slayers and the slain? The alarm is caught — the drawbridge falls. The warriors hurry from the walls, 179 ROKEBY But by the conflagration's light Upon the lawn renew the fight. Each straggling felon down was hewed, Not one could gain the sheltering wood ; But forth the affrighted harper sprung, And to Matilda's robe he clung. Her shriek, entreaty, and command Stopped the pursuer's lifted hand. Denzil and he alive were ta'en; The rest save Bertram all are slain. XXXVI And where is Bertram? — Soaring high. The general flame ascends the sky; In gathered group the soldiers gaze Upon the broad and roaring blaze. When, like infernal demon, sent Red from his penal element. To plague and to pollute the air. His face all gore, on fire his hair, Forth from the central mass of smoke The giant form of Bertram broke! His brandished sword on high he rears, Then plunged among opposing spears; Round his left arm his mantle trussed. Received and foiled three lances' thrust; Nor these his headlong course withstood, i8o ROKEBY Like reeds he snapped the tough ashwood. In vain his foes around him clung; With matchless force aside he flung Their boldest, — as the bull at bay Tosses the ban-dogs from his way, Through forty foes his path he made, And safely gained the forest glade. XXXVII Scarce was this final conflict o'er When from the postern Redmond bore Wilfrid, who, as of life bereft. Had in the fatal hall been left, Deserted there by all his train ; But Redmond saw and turned again. Beneath an oak he laid him down That in the blaze gleamed ruddy brown, And then his mantle's clasp undid; Matilda held his drooping head, Till, given to breathe the freer air, Returning life repaid their care. He gazed on them with heavy sigh, — * I could have wished even thus to die ! ' No more he said, — for now with speed Each trooper had regained his steed ; The ready palfreys stood arrayed For Redmond and for Rokeby's maid ; i8i ROKEBY Two Wilfrid on his horse sustain, One leads his charger by the rein. But oft Matilda looked behind, As up the vale of Tees they wind, Where far the mansion of her sires Beaconed the dale with midnight fires. In gloomy arch above them spread, The clouded heaven lowered bloody red; Beneath in sombre light the flood Appeared to roll in waves of blood. Then one by one was heard to fall The tower, the donjon-keep, the hall. Each rushing down with thunder sound A space the conflagration drowned ; Till gathering strength again it rose, Announced its triumph in its close, Shook wide its light the landscape o'er, Then sunk — and Rokeby was no more! CANTO SIXTH I The summer sun, whose early power Was wont to gild Matilda's bower And rouse her with his matin ray Her duteous orisons to pay, That morning sun has three times seen The flowers unfold on Rokeby green, But sees no more the slumbers fly From fair Matilda's hazel eye ; That morning sun has three times broke On Rokeby's glades of elm and oak, But, rising from their sylvan screen, Marks no grey turrets glance between. A shapeless mass lie keep and tower. That, hissing to the morning shower. Can but with smouldering vapour pay The early smile of summer day. The peasant, to his labour bound. Pauses to view the blackened mound. Striving amid the ruined space Each well-remembered spot to trace. That length of frail and fire-scorched wall Once screened the hospitable hall; 183 ROKEBY When yonder broken arch was whole, 'T was there was dealt the weekly dole; And where yon tottering columns nod The chapel sent the hymn to God. So flits the world's uncertain span! Nor zeal for God nor love for man Gives mortal monuments a date Beyond the power of Time and Fate. The towers must share the builder's doom; Ruin is theirs, and his a tomb: But better boon benignant Heaven To Faith and Charity has given. And bids the Christian hope sublime Transcend the bounds of Fate and Time. II Now the third night of summer came Since that which witnessed Rokeby's flame. On Brignall cliff's and Scargill brake The owlet's homilies awake, The bittern screamed from rush and flag, The raven slumbered on his crag, Forth from his den the otter drew, — Grayling and trout their tyrant knew, As between reed and sedge he peers. With fierce round snout and sharpened ears, Or prowling by the moonbeam cool 184 ROKEBY Watches the stream or swims the pool ; - Perched on his wonted eyrie high, Sleep sealed the tercelet's v/earied eye, That all the day had watched so well The cushat dart across the dell. In dubious beam reflected shone That lofty cliff of pale grey stone Beside whose base the secret cave To rapine late a refuge gave. The crag's wild crest of copse and yew On Greta's breast dark shadows threw. Shadows that met or shunned the sight With every change of fitful light, As hope and fear alternate chase Our course through life's uncertain race, III Gliding by crag and copsewood green, A solitary form was seen To trace with stealthy pace the wold. Like fox that seeks the midnight fold, And pauses oft, and cowers dismayed At every breath that stirs the shade. He passes now the ivy bush, — The owl has seen him and is hush; He passes now the doddered oak, — He heard the startled raven croak ; 185 ROKEBY Lower and lower he descends, Rustle the leaves, the brushwood bends; The otter hears him tread the shore, And dives and is beheld no more; And by the cliff of pale grey stone The midnight wanderer stands alone. Methinks that by the moon we trace A well-remembered form and face! That stripling shape, that cheek so pale, Combine to tell a rueful tale, Of powers misused, of passion's force, Of guilt, of grief, and of remorse! 'T is Edmund's eye at every sound That flings that guilty glance around ; 'T is Edmund's trembling haste divides The brushwood that the cavern hides; And when its narrow porch lies bare 'T is Edmund's form that enters there. IV His flint and steel have sparkled bright, A lamp hath lent the cavern light. Fearful and quick his eye surveys Each angle of the gloomy maze. Since last he left that stern abode, It seemed as none its floor had trode; Untouched appeared the various spoil, iS6 ROKEBY The purchase of his comrades' toil ; Masks and disguises grimed with mud, Arms broken and defiled with blood, And all the nameless tools that aid Night-felons in their lawless trade, Upon the gloomy walls were hung Or lay in nooks obscurely flung. Still on the sordid board appear The relics of the noontide cheer: Flagons and emptied flasks were there, And bench o'erthrown and shattered chair; And all around the semblance showed, As when the final revel glowed, When the red sun was setting fast And parting pledge Guy Denzil past. *To Rokeby treasure-vaults!' they quaffed. And shouted loud and wildly laughed, Poured maddening from the rocky door, And parted — to return no more ! They found in Rokeby vaults their doom, — A bloody death, a burning tomb! V There his own peasant dress he spies, Doffed to assume that quaint disguise. And shuddering thought upon his glee When pranked in garb of minstrelsy. 187 ROKEBY *0, be the fatal art accurst,* He cried, ' that moved my folly first, Till, bribed by bandits' base applause, I burst through God's and Nature's laws! Three summer days are scantly past Since I have trod this cavern last, A thoughtless wretch, and prompt to err — But O, as yet no murderer! Even now I list my comrades' cheer, That general laugh is in mine ear Which raised my pulse and steeled my heart, As I rehearsed my treacherous part — And would that all since then could seem The phantom of a fever's dream ! But fatal memory notes too well The horrors of the dying yell From my despairing mates that broke When flashed the fire and rolled the smoke, When the avengers shouting came And hemmed us 'twixt the sword and flame! My frantic flight — the lifted brand — That angel's interposing hand! — If for my life from slaughter freed I yet could pay some grateful meed! Perchance this object of my quest May aid' — he turned nor spoke the rest. ROKEBY VI Due northward from the rugged hearth With paces five he meets the earth, Then toiled with mattock to explore The entrails of the cavern floor, Nor paused till deep beneath the ground His search a small steel casket found. Just as he stooped to loose its hasp His shoulder felt a giant grasp; He started and looked up aghast, Then shrieked ! — 'T was Bertram held him fast. * Fear not ! ' he said ; but who could hear That deep stern voice and cease to fear? 'Fear not! — By heaven, he shakes as much As partridge in the falcon's clutch : ' He raised him and unloosed his hold, While from the opening casket rolled A chain and reliquaire of gold. Bertram beheld it with surprise, Gazed on its fashion and device. Then, cheering Edmund as he could. Somewhat he smoothed his rugged mood, For still the youth's half-lifted eye Quivered with terror's agony, And sidelong glanced as to explore In meditated flight the door. 189 ROKEBY *Sit,' Bertram said, 'from danger free: Thou canst not and thou shalt not flee. Chance brings me hither ; hill and plain I 've sought for refuge-place in vain. And tell me now, thou aguish boy, What makest thou here? what means this toy? Denzil and thou, I marked, were ta'en; What lucky chance unbound your chain? I deemed, long since on Baliol's tower, Your heads were warped with sun and shower. Tell me the whole — and mark ! nought e'er . Chafes me like falsehood or like fear.' Gathering his courage to his aid But trembling still, the youth obeyed. VII * Denzil and I two nights passed o'er In fetters on the dungeon floor. A guest the third sad morrow brought; Our hold, dark Oswald Wycliffe sought, And eyed my comrade long askance With fixed and penetrating glance. "Guy Denzil art thou called?" — "The same." "At Court who served wild Buckinghame; Thence banished, won a keeper's place, So Villiers willed, in Marwood Chase; That lost — I need not tell thee why — 190 ROKEBY Thou madest thy wit thy wants supply, Then fought for Rokeby : — have I guessed My prisoner right?" — "At thy behest." — He paused awhile, and then went on With low and confidential tone ; — Me, as I judge, not then he saw Close nestled in my couch of straw. — "List to me, Guy. Thou know'st the great Have frequent need of what they hate; Hence, in their favour oft we see Unscrupled, useful men like thee. Were I disposed to bid thee live, What pledge of faith hast thou to give?" VIII *The ready fiend who never yet Hath failed to sharpen Denzil's wit Prompted his lie — "His only child Should rest his pledge." — The baron smiled. And turned to me — "Thou art his son?" I bowed — our fetters were undone, And we were led to hear apart A dreadful lesson of his art. Wilfrid, he said, his heir and son, Had fair Matilda's favour won; And long since had their union been But for her father's bigot spleen, 191 ROKEBY Whose brute and blindfold party-rage Would, force perforce, her hand engage To a base kern of Irish earth. Unknown his lineage and his birth, Save that a dying ruffian bore The infant brat to Rokeby door. Gentle restraint, he said, would lead Old Rokeby to enlarge his creed ; But fair occasion he must find For such restraint well meant and kind. The knight being rendered to his charge But as a prisoner at large. IX * He schooled us in a well-forged tale Of scheme the castle-walls to scale, To which was leagued each Cavalier That dwells upon the Tyne and Wear, That Rokeby, his parole forgot, Had dealt with us to aid the plot. Such was the charge which Denzil's zeal Of hate to Rokeby and O'Neale Proffered as witness to make good, Even though the forfeit were their blood. I scrupled until o'er and o'er His prisoners' safety Wycliffe swore; And then — alas! what needs there more? 192 ROKEBY I knew I should not live to say The proffer I refused that day; Ashamed to live, yet loth to die, I soiled me with their infamy!' 'Poor youth!' said Bertram, 'wavering still, Unfit alike for good or ill ! But what fell next?' — 'Soon as at large Was scrolled and signed our fatal charge, There never yet on tragic stage Was seen so well a painted rage As Oswald's showed! With loud alarm He called his garrison to arm ; From tower to tower, from post to post. He hurried as if all were lost ; Consigned to dungeon and to chain The good old knight and all his train; Warned each suspected Cavalier Within his limits to appear To-morrow at the hour of noon In the high church of Eglistone.' — X *0f Eglistone! — Even now I past,* Said Bertram, 'as the night closed fast; Torches and cressets gleamed around, I heard the saw and hammer sound, 49 193 ROKEBY And I could mark they toiled to raise A scaffold, hung with sable baize, Which the grim headsman's scene displayed, Block, axe, and sawdust ready laid. Some evil deed will there be done Unless Matilda wed his son; — She loves him not — 't is shrewdly guessed That Redmond rules the damsel's breast. This is a turn of Oswald's skill ; But I may meet, and foil him still ! — How camest thou to thy freedom?' — 'There Lies mystery more dark and rare. In midst of Wycliffe's well-feigned rage, A scroll was offered by a page, Who told a muffled horseman late Had left it at the castle-gate. He broke the seal — his cheek showed change. Sudden, portentous, wild, and strange; The mimic passion of his eye Was turned to actual agony; His hand like summer sapling shook, Terror and guilt were in his look. Denzil he judged in time of need Fit counsellor for evil deed ; And thus apart his counsel broke, While with a ghastly smile he spoke: — 194 ROKEBY XI *"As in the pageants of the stage The dead awake in this wild age, Mortham — whom all men deemed decreed In his own deadly snare to bleed, Slain by a bravo whom o'er sea He trained to aid in murdering me, — Mortham has 'scaped ! The coward shot The steed, but harmed the rider not.'" Here with an execration fell Bertram leaped up and paced the cell : — 'Thine own grey head or bosom dark,' He muttered, 'may be surer mark!' Then sat and signed to Edmund, pale With terror, to resume his tale. 'Wycliffe went on: — "Mark with what flights Of 'wildered reverie he writes : — THE LETTER '"Ruler of Mortham's destiny! Though dead, thy victim lives to thee. Once had he all that binds to life, A lovely child, a lovelier wife; Wealth, fame, and friendship were his own — Thou gavest the word and they are flown. Mark how he pays thee: to thy hand 195 ROKEBY He yields his honours and his land, One boon premised; — restore his child! And, from his native land exiled, Mortham no more returns to claim His lands, his honours, or his name; Refuse him this and from the slain Thou shalt see Mortham rise again." — XII 'This billet while the baron read, His faltering accents showed his dread ; He pressed his forehead with his palm, Then took a scornful tone and calm; "Wild as the winds, as billows wild! What wot I of his spouse or child? Hither he brought a joyous dame, Unknown her lineage or her name: Her in some frantic fit he slew; The nurse and child in fear withdrew. Heaven be my witness, wist I where To find this youth, my kinsman's heir, Unguerdoned I would give with joy The father's arms to fold his boy, And Mortham's lands and towers resign To the just heirs of Mortham's line." Thou know'st that scarcely e'en his fear Suppresses Denzil's cynic sneer; — 196 ROKEBY "Then happy is thy vassal's part," He said, "to ease his patron's heart! In thine own jailer's watchful care Lies Mortham's just and rightful heir; Thy generous wish is fully won, — Redmond O'Neale is Mortham's son." — XIII * Up starting with a frenzied look, His clenched hand the baron shook: "Is Hell at work? or dost thou rave, Or darest thou palter with me, slave! Perchance thou wot'st not, Barnard's towers Have racks of strange and ghastly powers." Denzil, who well his safety knew, Firmly rejoined, "I tell thee true. Thy racks could give thee but to know The proofs which I, untortured, show. It chanced upon a winter night When early snow made Stanmore white, That very night when first of all Redmond O'Neale saw Rokeby Hall, It was my goodly lot to gain A reliquary and a chain, Twisted and chased of massive gold. Demand not how the prize I hold 1 It was not given nor lent nor sold. 197 ROKEBY Gilt tablets to the chain were hung With letters in the Irish tongue. I hid my spoil, for there was need That I should leave the land with speed, Nor then I deemed it safe to bear On mine own person gems so rare. Small heed I of the tablets took, But since have spelled them by the book. When some sojourn in Erin's land Of their wild speech had given command. But darkling was the sense; the phrase And language those of other days. Involved of purpose, as to foil An interloper's prying toil. The words, but not the sense, I knew, Till fortune gave the guiding clue. XIV '"Three days since, was that clue revealed In Thorsgill as I lay concealed. And heard at full when Rokeby's maid Her uncle's history displayed ; And now I can interpret well Each syllable the tablets tell. Mark, then: fair Edith was the joy Of old O'Neale of Clandeboy; But from her sire and country fled 198 ROKEBY In secret Mortham's lord to wed. O'Neale, his first resentment o'er, Despatched his son to Greta's shore, Enjoining he should make him known — Until his farther will were shown — To Edith, but to her alone. What of their ill-starred meeting fell Lord Wycliffe knows, and none so well. XV '"O'Neale it was who in despair Robbed Mortham of his infant heir; He bred him in their nurture wild, And called him murdered Connel's child. Soon died the nurse ; the clan believed What from their chieftain they received. His purpose was that ne'er again The boy should cross the Irish main. But, like his mountain sires, enjoy The woods and wastes of Clandeboy. Then on the land wild troubles came, And stronger chieftains urged a claim, And wrested from the old man's hands His native towers, his father's lands. Unable then amid the strife To guard young Redmond's rights or life. Late and reluctant he restores 199 ROKEBY The infant to his native shores, With goodly gifts and letters stored, With many a deep conjuring word, To Mortham and to Rokeby's lord. Nought knew the clod of Irish earth, Who was the guide, of Redmond's birth, But deemed his chief's commands were laid On both, by both to be obeyed. How he was wounded by the way I need not, and I list not say." — XVI *"A wondrous tale! and, grant it true. What," Wycliffe answered, "might I do? Heaven knows, as willingly as now I raise the bonnet from my brow. Would I my kinsman's manors fair Restore to Mortham or his heir ; But Mortham is distraught — O'Neale Has drawn for tyranny his steel, Malignant to our rightful cause And trained in Rome's delusive laws. Hark thee apart!" They whispered long, Till Denzil's voice grew bold and strong: "My proofs! I never will," he said, "Show mortal man where they are laid. Nor hope discovery to foreclose 200 ROKEBY By giving me to feed the crows ; For I have mates at large who know Where I am wont such toys to stow. Free me from peril and from band, These tablets are at thy command ; Nor were it hard to form some train, To wile old Mortham o'er the main. Then, lunatic's nor papist's hand Should wrest from thine the goodly land." "I like thy wit," said Wycliffe, "well; But here in hostage shalt thou dwell. Thy son, unless my purpose err, May prove the trustier messenger. A scroll to Mortham shall he bear From me, and fetch these tokens rare. Gold shalt thou have, and that good store, And freedom, his commission o'er; But if his faith should chance to fail. The gibbet frees thee from the jail." XVII * Meshed in the net himself had twined. What subterfuge could Denzil find? He told me with reluctant sigh That hidden here the tokens lie. Conjured my swift return and aid. By all he scoffed and disobeyed, 201 -2 c-1 <3' /O ROKEBY And looked as if the noose were tied And I the priest who left his side. This scroll for Mortham Wycliffe gave, Whom I must seek by Greta's wave, Or in the hut where chief he hides, Where Thorsgill's forester resides. — Thence chanced it, wandering in the glade, That he descried our ambuscade. — I was dismissed as evening fell. And reached but now this rocky cell.* 'Give Oswald's letter.' — Bertram read, And tore it fiercely shred by shred : — *A11 lies and villainy! to blind His noble kinsman's generous mind, And train him on from day to day, Till he can take his life away. — And now, declare thy purpose, youth, Nor dare to answer, save the truth ; If aught I mark of Denzil's art, I '11 tear the secret from thy heart ! * — XVIII ' It needs not. I renounce,' he said, * My tutor and his deadly trade. Fixed was my purpose to declare To Mortham, Redmond is his heir; To tell him in what risk he stands, 202 ROKEBY And yield these tokens to his hands. Fixed was my purpose to atone, Far as I may, the evil done; And fixed it rests — if I survive This night, and leave this cave alive.' — 'And Denzil?' — 'Let them ply the rack, Even till his joints and sinews crack! If Oswald tear him limb from limb, What ruth can Denzil claim from him Whose thoughtless youth he led astray And damned to this unhallowed way? He schooled me, faith and vows were vain; Now let my master reap his gain.' — 'True,' answered Bertram, "t is his meed; There 's retribution in the deed. But thou — thou art not for our course, Hast fear, hast pity, hast remorse; And he with us the gale who braves Must heave such cargo to the waves. Or lag with overloaded prore While barks unburdened reach the shore.* XIX He paused and, stretching him at length, Seemed to repose his bulky strength. Communing with his secret mind. As half he sat and half reclined, 203 ROKEBY One ample hand his forehead pressed, And one was dropped across his breast. The shaggy eyebrows deeper came Above his eyes of swarthy flame ; His lip of pride awhile forebore The haughty curve till then it wore; The unaltered fierceness of his look A shade of darkened sadness took, — For dark and sad a presage pressed Resistlessly on Bertram's breast, — And when he spoke, his wonted tone, So fierce, abrupt, and brief, was gone. His voice was steady, low, and deep. Like distant waves when breezes sleep ; And sorrow mixed with Edmund's fear. Its low unbroken depth to hear. XX 'Edmund, in thy sad tale I find The woe that warped my patron's mind; 'T would wake the fountains of the eye In other men, but mine are dry. Mortham must never see the fool That sold himself base Wycliffe's tool, Yet less from thirst of sordid gain Than to avenge supposed disdain. Say Bertram rues his fault — a word 204 ROKEBY Till now from Bertram never heard : Say, too, that Mortham's lord he prays To think but on their former days ; On Quariana's beach and rock. On Cayo's bursting battle-shock. On Darien's sands and deadly dew. And on the dart Tlatzeca threw ; — Perchance my patron yet may hear More that may grace his comrade's bier. My soul hath felt a secret weight, A warning of approaching fate: A priest had said, "Return, repent!" As well to bid that rock be rent. Firm as that flint I face mine end ; My heart may burst, but cannot bend. XXI *The dawning of my youth with awe And prophecy the Dalesmen saw; For over Redesdale it came, As bodeful as their beacon-flame. Edmund, thy years were scarcely mine When, challenging the Clans of Tyne To bring their best my brand to prove, O'er Hexham's altar hung my glove ; * But Tynedale, nor in tower nor town, » See Note 6s. 20S ROKEBY Held champion meet to take it down. My noontide India may declare; Like her fierce sun, I fired the air! Like him, to wood and cave bade fly Her natives from mine angry eye. Panama's maids shall long look pale When Risingham inspires the tale ; Chili's dark matrons long shall tame The froward child with Bertram's name. And now, my race of terror run. Mine be the eve of tropic sun! No pale gradations quench his ray, No twilight dews his wrath allay ; With disk like battle-target red He rushes to his burning bed, Dyes the wide wave with bloody light, Then sinks at once — and all is night. — XXII 'Now to thy mission, Edmund. Fly, Seek Mortham out, and bid him hie To Richmond where his troops are laid. And lead his force to Redmond's aid. Say till he reaches Eglistone A friend will watch to guard his son. Now, f are-thee-well ; for night draws on. And I would rest me here alone.' 206 ROKEBY Despite his ill-dissembled fear, There swam in Edmund's eye a tear; A tribute to the courage high Which stooped not in extremity, But strove, irregularly great, To triumph o'er approaching fate! Bertram beheld the dew-drop start, It almost touched his iron heart: *I did not think there lived,' he said, 'One who would tear for Bertram shed.* He loosened then his baldric's hold, A buckle broad of massive gold ; — *0f all the spoil that paid his pains But this with Risingham remains; And this, dear Edmund, thou shalt take, And wear it long for Bertram's sake. Once more — to Mortham speed amain; Farewell! and turn thee not again.' XXIII The night has yielded to the morn. And far the hours of prime are worn. Oswald, who since the dawn of day Had cursed his messenger's delay. Impatient questioned now his train, 'Was Denzil's son returned again?' It chanced there answered of the crew 207 ROKEBY A menial who young Edmund knew: *No son of Denzil this,' he said; *A peasant boy from Winston glade, For song and minstrelsy renowned And knavish pranks the hamlets round.* *Not Denzil's son! — from Winston vale! — Then it was false, that specious tale ; Or worse — he hath despatched the youth To show to Mortham's lord its truth. Fool that I was! — But 't is too late; — This is the very turn of fate ! — The tale, or true or false, relies On Denzil's evidence! — He dies! — Ho ! Provost Marshal ! instantly Lead Denzil to the gallows-tree! Allow him not a parting word ; Short be the shrift and sure the cord I Then let his gory head appall Marauders from the castle-wall. Lead forth thy guard, that duty done, With best despatch to Eglistone. — Basil, tell Wilfrid he must straight Attend me at the castle-gate.' XXIV 'Alas!* the old domestic said, And shook his venerable head, 208 ROKEBY *AIas, my lord! full ill to-day May my young master brook the way! The leech has spoke with grave alarm Of unseen hurt, of secret harm, Of sorrow lurking at the heart, That mars and lets his healing art.* 'Tush! tell not me! — Romantic boys Pine themselves sick for airy toys, I will find cure for Wilfrid soon ; Bid him for Eglistone be boune. And quick! — I hear the dull death-drum Tell Denzil's hour of fate is come.' He paused with scornful smile, and then Resumed his train of thought agen. * Now comes my fortune's crisis near ! Entreaty boots not — instant fear, Nought else, can bend Matilda's pride Or win her to be Wilfrid's bride. But when she sees the scaffold placed. With axe and block and headsman graced, And when she deems that to deny Dooms Redmond and her sire to die. She must give way. — Then, were the line Of Rokeby once combined with mine, I gain the weather-gauge of fate ! If Mortham come, he comes too late, While I, allied thus and prepared, 49 209 ROKEBY Bid him defiance to his beard. — If she prove stubborn, shall I dare To drop the axe? — Soft! pause we there. Mortham still lives — yon youth may tell His tale — and Fairfax loves him well ; — Else, wherefore should I now delay To sweep this Redmond from my way? — But she to piety perforce Must yield. — Without there! Sound to horse!' XXV *T was bustle in the court below, — 'Mount, and march forward!' Forth they go; Steeds neigh and trample all around, Steel rings, spears glimmer, trumpets sound. — Just then was sung his parting hymn ; And Denzil turned his eyeballs dim, And, scarcely conscious what he sees, Follows the horsemen down the Tees ; And scarcely conscious what he hears, The trumpets tingle in his ears. O'er the long bridge they're sweeping now, The van is hid by greenwood bough ; But ere the rearward had passed o'er Guy Denzil heard and saw no more! One stroke upon the castle-bell To Oswald rung his dying knell. 2IO 1 ROKEBY XXVI O, for that pencil, erst profuse Of chivalry's emblazoned hues, That traced of old in Woodstock bower The pageant of the Leaf and Flower, And bodied forth the tourney high Held for the hand of Emily! Then might I paint the tumult broad That to the crowded abbey flowed, And poured, as with an ocean's sound, Into the church's ample bound! Then might I show each varying mien, Exulting, woful, or serene; Indifference, with his idiot stare. And Sympathy, with anxious air; Paint the dejected Cavalier, Doubtful, disarmed, and sad of cheer; And his proud foe, whose formal eye Claimed conquest now and mastery; And the brute crowd, whose envious zeal Huzzas each turn of Fortune's wheel, And loudest shouts when lowest lie Exalted worth and station high. Yet what may such a wish avail? 'T is mine to tell an onward tale. Hurrying, as best I can, along 211 ROKEBY The hearers and the hasty song; — Like traveller when approaching home, Who sees the shades of evening come, And must not now his course delay, Or choose the fair but winding way: Nay, scarcely may his pace suspend, Where o'er his head the wildings bend, To bless the breeze that cools his brow Or snatch a blossom from the bough. XXVII The reverend pile lay wild and waste, Profaned, dishonoured, and defaced. Through storied lattices no more In softened light the sunbeams pour. Gilding the Gothic sculpture rich Of shrine and monument and niche. The civil fury of the time Made sport of sacrilegious crime; For dark fanaticism rent Altar and screen and ornament, And peasant hands the tombs o'erthrew Of Bowes, of Rokeby, and Fitz-Hugh. And now was seen, unwonted sight, In holy walls a scaffold dight ! Where once the priest of grace divine Dealt to his flock the mystic sign, 212 ROKEBY There stood the block displayed, and there The headsman grim his hatchet bare, And for the word of hope and faith Resounded loud a doom of death. Thrice the fierce trumpet's breath was heard, And echoed thrice the herald's word, Dooming, for breach of martial laws And treason to the Commons' cause. The Knight of Rokeby, and O'Neale, To stoop their heads to block and steel. The trumpets flourished high and shrill, Then was a silence dead and still ; And silent prayers to Heaven were cast, And stifled sobs were bursting fast. Till from the crowd begun to rise Murmurs of sorrow or surprise. And from the distant aisles there came Deep-muttered threats with Wycliffe's name. XXVIII But Oswald, guarded by his band. Powerful in evil, waved his hand, And bade Sedition's voice be dead. On peril of the murmurer's head. Then first his glance sought Rokeby's Knight, Who gazed on the tremendous sight As calm as if he came a guest 213 ROKEBY To kindred baron's feudal feast, As calm as if that trumpet-call Were summons to the bannered hall ; Firm in his loyalty he stood, And prompt to seal it with his blood. With downcast look drew Oswald nigh, — He durst not cope with Rokeby's eye ! — And said with low and faltering breath, 'Thou know'st the terms of life and death.* The knight then turned and sternly smiled : 'The maiden is mine only child, Yet shall my blessing leave her head If with a traitor's son she wed.' Then Redmond spoke: 'The life of one Might thy malignity atone. On me be flung a double guilt ! Spare Rokeby's blood, let mine be spilt!* Wycliffe had listened to his suit, But dread prevailed and he was mute. XXIX And now he pours his choice of fear In secret on Matilda's ear; 'An union formed with me and mine Ensures the faith of Rokeby's line. Consent, and all this dread array Like morning dream shall pass away; 214 1 ROKEBY Refuse, and by my duty pressed I give the word — thou know'st the rest.* Matilda, still and motionless. With terror heard the dread address, Pale as the sheeted maid who dies To hopeless love a sacrifice; Then wrung her hands in agony, And round her cast bewildered eye. Now on the scaffold glanced, and now On Wycliffe's unrelenting brow. She veiled her face, and with a voice Scarce audible, * I make my choice ! Spare but their lives ! — for aught beside Let Wilfrid's doom my fate decide. He once was generous ! ' As she spoke. Dark Wycliffe's joy in triumph broke: 'Wilfrid, where loitered ye so late? Why upon Basil rest thy weight? — Art spell-bound by enchanter's wand? — Kneel, kneel, and take her yielded hand; Thank her with raptures, simple boy ! Should tears and trembling speak thy joy?' *0 hush, my sire! To prayer and tear Of mine thou hast refused thine ear ; But now the awiul hour draws on When Truth must speak in loftier tone.' 215 ROKEBY XXX He took Matilda's hand : ' Dear maid, Couldst thou so injure me,' he said, 'Of thy poor friend so basely deem As blend with him this barbarous scheme? Alas ! my efforts made in vain Might well have saved this added pain. But now, bear witness earth and heaven That ne'er was hope to mortal given So twisted with the strings of life As this — to call Matilda wife! I bid it now for ever part, And with the effort bursts my heart.* His feeble frame was worn so low, With wounds, with watching, and with woe That nature could no more sustain The agony of mental pain. He kneeled — his lip her hand had pressed, Just then he felt the stern arrest. Lower and lower sunk his head, — They raised him, — but the life was fled! Then first alarmed his sire and train Tried every aid, but tried in vain. The soul, too soft its ills to bear. Had left our mortal hemisphere. And sought in better world the meed To blameless life by Heaven decreed. 216 ROKEBY XXXI The wretched sire beheld aghast With Wilfrid all his projects past, All turned and centred on his son, On Wilfrid all — and he was gone. 'And I am childless now,' he said; 'Childless, through that relentless maid! A lifetime's arts in vain essayed Are bursting on their artist's head! Here lies my Wilfrid dead — and there Comes hated Mortham for his heir, Eager to knit in happy band With Rokeby's heiress Redmond's hand. And shall their triumph soar o'er all The schemes deep-laid to work their fall? No ! — deeds which prudence might not dare Appall not vengeance and despair. The murderess weeps upon his bier — I '11 change to real that feigned tear ! They all shall share destruction's shock; — Ho ! lead the captives to the block ! * But ill his provost could divine His feelings, and forbore the sign. * Slave ! to the block ! — or I or they Shall face the judgment-seat this day!' 217 ROKEBY XXXII The outmost crowd have heard a sound Like horse's hoof on hardened ground ; Nearer it came, and yet more near, — The very death's-men paused to hear. 'T is in the churchyard now — the tread Hath waked the dwelling of the dead! Fresh sod and old sepulchral stone Return the tramp in varied tone. All eyes upon the gateway hung, When through the Gothic arch there sprung A horseman armed at headlong speed — Sable his cloak, his plume, his steed. ^ Fire from the flinty floor was spurned, The vaults unwonted clang returned ! — One instant's glance around he threw, From saddlebow his pistol drew. Grimly determined was his look ! His charger with the spurs he strook — All scattered backward as he came, For all knew Bertram Risingham ! Three bounds that noble courser gave ; The first has reached the central nave, The second cleared the chancel wide. The third — he was at Wycliffe's side. « See Note 66. 2l8 ROKEBY Full levelled at the baron's head, Rung the report — the bullet sped — And to his long account and last Without a groan dark Oswald past ! All was so quick that it might seem A flash of lightning or a dream. XXXIII While yet the smoke the deed conceals, Bertram his ready charger wheels; But floundered on the pavement-floor The steed and down the rider bore, And, bursting in the headlong sway, The faithless saddle-girths gave way. 'T was while he toiled him to be freed, And with the rein to raise the steed, That from amazement's iron trance All Wycliffe's soldiers waked at once. Sword, halberd, musket-butt, their blows Hailed upon Bertram as he rose ; A score of pikes with each a wound Bore down and pinned him to the ground ; But still his struggling force he rears, 'Gainst hacking brands and stabbing spears, Thrice from assailants shook him free. Once gained his feet and twice his knee. By tenfold odds oppressed at length, , 219 ROKEBY Despite his struggles and his strength, He took a hundred mortal wounds As mute as fox 'mongst mangling hounds; And when he died his parting groan Had more of laughter than of moan! They gazed as when a lion dies, And hunters scarcely trust their eyes, But bend their weapons on the slain Lest the grim king should rouse again! Then blow and insult some renewed, And from the trunk the head had hewed, But Basil's voice the deed forbade; A mantle o'er the corse he laid : — 'Fell as he was in act and mind, He left no bolder heart behind : Then, give him, for a soldier meet, A soldier's cloak for winding sheet.* XXXIV No more of death and dying pang, No more of trump and bugle clang. Though through the sounding woods there come Banner and bugle, trump and drum. Armed with such powers as well had freed Young Redmond at his utmost need, And backed with such a band of horse As might less ample powers enforce, 220 ROKEBY Possessed of every proof and sign That gave an heir to Mortham's line, And yielded to a father's arms An image of his Edith's charms, — Mortham is come, to hear and see Of this strange morn the history. What saw he? — not the church's floor, Cumbered with dead and stained with gore; What heard he? — not the clamorous crowd. That shout their gratulations loud : Redmond he saw and heard alone, Clasped him and sobbed, 'My son! my son!' XXXV This chanced upon a summer morn, When yellow waved the heavy corn: But when brown August o'er the land Called forth the reaper's busy band, A gladsome sight the sylvan road From Eglistone to Mortham showed. Awhile the hardy rustic leaves The task to bind and pile the sheaves. And maids their sickles fling aside To gaze on bridegroom and on bride. And childhood's wondering group draws near, And from the gleaner's hands the ear Drops while she folds them for a prayer 221 ROKEBY And blessing on the lovely pair. *T was then the Maid of Rokeby gave Her plighted troth to Redmond brave; And Teesdale can remember yet How Fate to Virtue paid her debt, And for their troubles bade them prove A lengthened life of peace and love. Time and Tide had thus their sway, Yielding, like an April day, Smiling noon for sullen morrow, Years of joy for hours of sorrow ! THE LORD OF THE ISLES A POEM IN SIX CANTOS ADVERTISEMENT The Scene of this Poem lies, at first, in the Castle of Artor- nish, on the coast of Argyleshire; and, afterwards, in the Islands of Skye and Arran, and upon the coast of Ayrshire. Finally it is laid near Stirling. The story opens in the spring of the year 1307, when Bruce, who had been driven out of Scotland by the English, and the Barons who adhered to that foreign interest, returned from the Island of Rachrin on the coast of Ireland, again to assert his claims to the Scottish crown. Many of the personages and incidents introduced are of historical celeb- rity. The authorities used are chiefly those of the venerable Lord Hailes, as well entitled to be called the restorer of Scot- tish history, as Bruce the restorer of Scottish Monarchy; and of Archdeacon Barbour; a correct edition of whose Metrical History of Robert Bruce will soon, I trust, appear, under the care of my learned friend, the Rev. Dr. Jamieson. Abbotsfoed, loth December, 1814. 40 INTRODUCTION I COULD hardly have chosen a subject more popular in Scot- land than anything connected with the Bruce's history, unless I had attempted that of Wallace. But I am decidedly of opinion that a popular, or what is called a taking, title, though well qualified to ensure the publishers against loss, and clear their shelves of the original impression, is rather apt to be hazardous than otherwise to the reputation of the author. He who attempts a subject of distinguished popularity has not the privilege of awakening the enthusiasm of his audience; on the contrary, it is already awakened, and glows, it may be, more ardently than that of the author himself. In this case the warmth of the author is inferior to that of the party whom he addresses, who has therefore little chance of being, in Bayes's phrase, 'ele- vated and surprised' by what he has thought of with more enthusiasm than the writer. The sense of this risk, joined to the consciousness of striving against wind and tide, made the task of composing the proposed Poem somewhat heavy and hopeless ; but, like the prize-fighter in As You Like It, I was to wrestle for my reputation, and not neglect any advantage. In a most agreeable pleasure-voyage, which I have tried to commemorate in the Introduction to the new edition of the Pirate, I visited, in social and friendly company, the coasts and islands of Scot- land, and made myself acquainted with the localities of which I meant to treat. But this voyage, which was in every other efTect so delightful, was in its conclusion saddened by one of those strokes of fate which so often mingle themselves with our pleasures. The accomplished and excellent person who had recommended to me the subject for The Lay of the Last Minstrel [Harriet, Duchess of Buccleuch], and to whom I proposed to inscribe what I already suspected might be the close of my poetical labours, was unexpectedly removed from the world, 227 INTRODUCTION which she seemed only to have visited for purposes of kindness and benevolence. It is needless to say how the author's feelings, or the composition of his trifling work, were affected by a cir- cumstance which occasioned so many tears and so much sorrow. True it is, that The Lord of the Isles was concluded, unwillingly and in haste, under the painful feeling of one who has a task which must be finished, rather than with the ardour of one who endeavours to perform that task well. Although the Poem cannot be said to have made a favourable impression on the public, the sale of fifteen thousand copies enabled the Author to retreat from the field with the honours of war. In the mean time, what was necessarily to be considered as a failure was much reconciled to my feelings by the success attend- ing my attempt in another species of composition. Waverley had, under strict incognito, taken its flight from the press, just before I set out upon the voyage already mentioned; it had now made its way to popularity, and the success of that work and the volumes which followed was sufficient to have satisfied a greater appetite for applause than I have at any time possessed. I may as well add in this place, that, being much urged by my intimate friend, now unhappily no more, William Erskine (a Scottish judge, by the title of Lord Kinedder), I agreed to write the little romantic tale called the Bridal of Triermain; but it was on the condition that he should make no serious effort to disown the composition, if report should lay it at his door. As he was more than suspected of a taste for poetry, and as I took care, in several places, to mix something which might resemble (as far as was in my power) my friend's feeling and manner, the train easily caught, and two large editions were sold. A third being called for, Lord Kinedder became unwilling to aid any longer a deception which was going farther than he expected or desired, and the real author's name was given. Upon another occasion, I sent up another of these trifles, which, like schoolboy's kites, served to show how the wind of popular taste was setting. The manner was supposed to be that of a rude minstrel, or Scald, in opposition to the Bridal of Triermain, which was designed to 228 INTRODUCTION belong rather to the Italian school. This new fugitive piece was called Harold the Dauntless ; and I am still astonished at my having committed the gross error of selecting the very name which Lord Byron had made so famous. It encountered rather an odd fate. My ingenious friend, Mr. James Hogg, had pub- lished, about the same time, a work called the Poetic Mirror, containing imitations of the principal living poets. There was in it a very good imitation of my own style, which bore such a resemblance to Harold the Dauntless, that there was no discover- ing the original from the imitation ; and I believe that many who took the trouble of thinking upon the subject, were rather of opinion that my ingenious friend was the true, and not the fictitious Simon Pure. Since this period, which was in the year i8i6, the Author has not been an intruder on the public by any poetical work of importance. Abbotsfoed, April, 1830. CANTO FIRST Autumn departs — but still his mantle's fold Rests on the groves of noble Somerville, Beneath a shroud of russet drooped with gold Tweed and his tributaries mingle still ; Hoarser the wind and deeper sounds the rill, Yet lingering notes of sylvan music swell, The deep-toned cushat and the redbreast shrill ; And yet some tints of summer splendour tell When the broad sun sinks down on Ettrick's western fell. Autumn departs — from Gala's fields no more Come rural sounds our kindred banks to cheer; Blent with the stream and gale that wafts it o'er. No more the distant reaper's mirth we hear. The last blithe shout hath died upon our ear, And harvest-home hath hushed the clanging wain, On the waste hills no forms of life appear. Save where, sad laggard of the autumnal strain. Some age-struck wanderer gleans few ears of scattered grain. Deem'st thou these saddened scenes have pleasure still, Lov'st thou through Autumn's fading realms to stray, 231 THE LORD OF THE ISLES To see the heath-flower withered on the hill, To Hsten to the woods' expiring lay, To note the red leaf shivering on the spray, To mark the last bright tints the mountain stain, On the waste fields to trace the gleaner's way, And moralise on mortal joy and pain? — O, if such scenes thou lov'st, scorn not the minstrel strain! No! do not scorn, although its hoarser note Scarce with the cushat's homely song can vie. Though faint its beauties as the tints remote That gleam through mist in autumn's evening sky, And few as leaves that tremble, sear and dry, When wild November hath his bugle wound ; Nor mock my toil — a lonely gleaner I Through fields time-wasted, on sad inquest bound Where happier bards of yore have richer harvest found. So shalt thou list, and haply not unmoved, To a wild tale of Albyn's warrior day; In distant lands, by the rough West reproved. Still live some relics of the ancient lay. For, when on Coolin's hills the lights decay, With such the Seer of Skye the eve beguiles; 'T is known amid the pathless wastes of Reay, In Harries known and in lona's piles, Where rest from mortal coil the Mighty of the Isles. 232 THE LORD OF THE ISLES I *Wake, Maid of Lorn!' the minstrels sung. Thy rugged halls, Artornish, rung,^ And the dark seas thy towers that lave Heaved on the beach a softer wave, As 'mid the tuneful choir to keep The diapason of the deep. Lulled were the winds on Inninmore And green Loch-Alline's woodland shore, As if wild woods and waves had pleasure In listing to the lovely measure. And ne'er to symphony more sweet Gave mountain echoes answer meet Since, met from mainland and from isle, Ross, Arran, Islay, and Argyle, Each minstrel's tributary lay Paid homage to the festal day. Dull and dishonoured were the bard, "Worthless of guerdon and regard. Deaf to the hope of minstrel fame, Or lady's smiles, his noblest aim, Who on that morn's resistless call Was silent in Artornish hall. * See Note 67. 233 THE LORD OF THE ISLES II 'Wake, Maid of Lorn!' — 't was thus they sung, And yet more proud the descant rung, 'Wake, Maid of Lorn! high right is ours To charm dull sleep from Beauty's Bowers; Earth, ocean, air, have nought so shy But owns the power of minstrelsy. In Lettermore the timid deer Will pause the harp's wild chime to hear; Rude Heiskar's seal through surges dark Will long pursue the minstrel's bark;^ To list his notes the eagle proud Will poise him on Ben-Cailliach's cloud; Then let not maiden's ear disdain The summons of the minstrel train, But while our harps wild music make, Edith of Lorn, awake, awake! Ill 'O, wake while Dawn with dewy shine Wakes Nature's charms to vie with thine! She bids the mottled thrush rejoice To mate thy melody of voice ; The dew that on the violet lies Mocks the dark lustre of thine eyes; « See Note 68. 234 THE LORD OF THE ISLES But, Edith, wake, and all we see Of sweet and fair shall yield to thee ! ' — 'She comes not yet,' grey Ferrand cried; 'Brethren, let softer spell be tried. Those notes prolonged, that soothing theme, Which best may mix with Beauty's dream. And whisper with their silvery tone The hope she loves yet fears to own.' He spoke, and on the harp-strings died The strains, of flattery and of pride ; More soft, more low, more tender fell The lay of love he bade them tell. IV *Wake, Maid of Lorn! the moments fly Which yet that maiden-name allow; Wake, Maiden, wake ! the hour is nigh When love shall claim a plighted vow. By Fear, thy bosom's fluttering guest, By Hope, that soon shall fears remove, We bid thee break the bonds of rest, And wake thee at the call of Love! 'Wake, Edith, wake! in yonder bay Lies many a galley gayly manned, We hear the merry pibroch's play, We see the streamers' silken band. 235 THE LORD OF THE ISLES What chieftain's praise these pibrochs swell, What crest is on these banners wove, The harp, the minstrel, dare not tell — The riddle must be read by Love!' V Retired her maiden train among, Edith of Lorn received the song, But tamed the minstrel's pride had been That had her cold demeanour seen ; For not upon her cheek awoke The glow of pride when Flattery spoke, Nor could their tenderest numbers bring One sigh responsive to the string. As vainly had her maidens vied In skill to deck the princely bride. Her locks in dark-brown length arrayed, Cathleen of Ulne, 't was thine to braid; Young Eva with meet reverence drew On the light foot the silken shoe, While on the ankle's slender round Those strings of pearl fair Bertha wound That, bleached Lochryan's depths within, Seemed dusky still on Edith's skin. But Einion, of experience old, Had weightiest task — the mantle's fold In many an artful plait she tied 236 THE LORD OF THE ISLES To show the form it seemed to hide, Till on the floor descending rolled Its waves of crimson blent with gold. VI O, lives there now so cold a maid, Who thus in beauty's pomp arrayed. In beauty's proudest pitch of power. And conquest won — the bridal hour — With every charm that wins the heart. By Nature given, enhanced by Art, Could yet the fair reflection view In the bright mirror pictured true, And not one dimple on her cheek A telltale consciousness bespeak? — Lives still such maid? — Fair damsels, say, For further vouches not my lay Save that such lived in Britain's isle When Lorn's bright Edith scorned to smile. VII But Morag, to whose fostering care Proud Lorn had given his daughter fair, Morag, who saw a mother's aid By all a daughter's love repaid — Strict was that bond, most kind of all, Inviolate in Highland hall — 237 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Gray Morag sate a space apart, In Edith's eyes to read her heart. In vain the attendant's fond appeal To Morag's skill, to Morag's zeal; She marked her child receive their care, Cold as the image sculptured fair — Form of some sainted patroness — Which cloistered maids combine to dress ; She marked — and knew her nursling's heart In the vain pomp took little part. Wistful awhile she gazed — then pressed The maiden to her anxious breast In finished loveliness — and led To where a turret's airy head, Slender and steep and battled round, O'erlooked, dark Mull, thy mighty Sound,* Where thwarting tides with mingled roar Part thy swarth hills from Morven's shore. VIII * Daughter,' she said, 'these seas behold, Round twice a hundred islands rolled,^ From Hirt that hears their northern roar To the green Hay's fertile shore; Or mainland turn where many a tower Owns thy bold brother's feudal power, « See Note 69. ' See Note 70. 238 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Each on its own dark cape reclined And listening to its own wild wind, From where Mingarry sternly placed ^ O'erawes the woodland and the waste, To where Dunstaffnage hears the raging Of Connal with its rocks engaging. Think'st thou amid this ample round A single brow but thine has frowned, To sadden this auspicious morn That bids the daughter of high Lorn Impledge her spousal faith to wed The heir of mighty Somerled? ^ Ronald, from many a hero sprung. The fair, the valiant, and the young. Lord of the Isles, whose lofty name ' A thousand bards have given to fame, The mate of monarchs, and allied On equal terms with England's pride. — From chieftain's tower to bondsman's cot, Who hears the tale, and triumphs not? The damsel dons her best attire, The shepherd lights his beltane fire, Joy! joy! each warder's horn hath sung, Joy! joy! each matin bell hath rung; The holy priest says grateful mass. Loud shouts each hardy galla-glass, ' See Note 71. * See Note 72. » See Note 73. 239 THE LORD OF THE ISLES No mountain den holds outcast boor Of heart so dull, of soul so poor, But he hath flung his task aside, And claimed this morn for holy-tide; Yet, empress of this joyful day, Edith is sad while all are gay.' IX Proud Edith's soul came to her eye, Resentment checked the struggling sigh. Her hurrying hand indignant dried The burning tears of injured pride — 'Morag, forbear! or lend thy praise To swell yon hireling harpers' lays ; Make to yon maids thy boast of power, That they may waste a wondering hour Telling of banners proudly borne. Of pealing bell and bugle horn. Or, theme more dear, of robes of price, Crownlets and gauds of rare device. But thou, experienced as thou art, Think'st thou with these to cheat the heart That, bound in strong affection's chain, Looks for return and looks in vain? No! sum thine Edith's wretched lot In these brief words — He loves her not I 240 THE LORD OF THE ISLES X * Debate it not — too long I strove To call his cold observance love, All blinded by the league that styled Edith of Lorn — while yet a child She tripped the heath by Morag's side — The brave Lord Ronald's destined bride. Ere yet I saw him, while afar His broadsword blazed in Scotland's war, Trained to believe our fates the same, My bosom throbbed when Ronald's name Came gracing Fame's heroic tale. Like perfume on the summer gale. What pilgrim sought our halls nor told Of Ronald's deeds in battle bold; Who touched the harp to heroes' praise But his achievements swelled the lays? Even Morag — not a tale of fame Was hers but closed with Ronald's name. He came! and all that had been told Of his high worth seemed poor and cold. Tame, lifeless, void of energy. Unjust to Ronald and to me! XI 'Since then, what thought had Edith's heart And gave not plighted love its part ! — 49 241 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And what requital? cold delay — Excuse that shunned the spousal day. — It dawns and Ronald is not here ! — Hunts he Bentalla's nimble deer, Or loiters he in secret dell To bid some lighter love farewell, And swear that though he may not scorn A daughter of the House of Lorn,^ Yet, when these formal rites are o'er, Again they meet to part no more?' XII 'Hush, daughter, hush! thy doubts remove, More nobly think of Ronald's love. Look, where beneath the castle grey His fleet unmoor from Aros bay! See'st not each galley's topmast bend As on the yards the sails ascend? Hiding the dark-blue land they rise. Like the white clouds on April skies ; The shouting vassals man the oars, Behind them sink Mull's mountain shores, Onward their merry course they keep Through whistling breeze and foaming deep. And mark the headmost, seaward cast, Stoop to the freshening gale her mast, > See Note 74. 242 THE LORD OF THE ISLES As if she veiled its bannered pride To greet afar her prince's bride! Thy Ronald comes, and while in speed His galley mates the flying steed, He chides her sloth!' — Fair Edith sighed, Blushed, sadly smiled, and thus replied : XIII 'Sweet thought, but vain! — No, Morag! mark, Type of his course, yon lonely bark, That oft hath shifted helm and sail To win its way against the gale. Since peep of morn my vacant eyes Have viewed by fits the course she tries ; Now, though the darkening scud comes on, And dawn's fair promises be gone. And though the weary crew may see Our sheltering haven on their lee. Still closer to the rising wind They strive her shivering sail to bind. Still nearer to the shelves' dread verge At every tack her course they urge. As if they feared Artornish more Than adverse winds and breakers' roar.' 243 THE LORD OF THE ISLES XIV Sooth spoke the maid. Amid the tide The skiff she marked lay tossing sore, And shifted oft her stooping side, In weary tack from shore to shore. Yet on her destined course no more She gained of forward way Than what a minstrel may compare To the poor need which peasants share Who toil the livelong day; And such the risk her pilot braves That oft, before she wore. Her boltsprit kissed the broken waves, Where in white foam the ocean raves Upon the shelving shore. Yet, to their destined purpose true, Undaunted toiled her hardy crew, Nor looked where shelter lay, Nor for Artornish Castle drew. Nor steered for Aros bay. XV Thus while they strove with winds and seas. Borne onward by the willing breeze, Lord Ronald's fleet swept by, Streamered with silk and tricked with gold, 244 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Manned with the noble and the bold Of Island chivalry. Around their prows the ocean roars, And chafes beneath their thousand oars, Yet bears them on their way : So chafes the war-horse in his might That fieldward bears some valiant knight, Champs till both bit and boss are white, But foaming must obey. On each gay deck they might behold Lances of steel and crests of gold, And hauberks with their burnished fold That shimmered fair and free ; And each proud galley as she passed To the wild cadence of the blast Gave wilder minstrelsy. Full many a shrill triumphant note Saline and Scallastle bade float Their misty shores around ; And Morven's echoes answered well, And Duart heard the distant swell Come down the darksome Sound. XVI So bore they on with mirth and pride, And if that labouring bark they spied, 'T was with such idle eye 245 THE LORD OF THE ISLES As nobles cast on lowly boor When, toiling in his task obscure, They pass him careless by, Let them sweep on with heedless eyes ! But had they known what mighty prize In that frail vessel lay, The famished wolf that prowls the wold Had scathless passed the unguarded fold, Ere, drifting by these galleys bold, Unchallenged were her way ! And thou, Lord Ronald, sweep thou on With mirth and pride and minstrel tone! But hadst thou known who sailed so nigh, Far other glance were in thine eye! Far other flush were on thy brow, That, shaded by the bonnet, now Assumes but ill the blithesome cheer Of bridegroom when the bride is near! XVII Yes, sweep they on ! — We will not leave, For them that triumph, those that grieve. With that armada gay Be laughter loud and jocund shout, And bards to cheer the wassail rout With tale, romance, and lay; And of wild mirth each clamorous art, 246 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Which, if it cannot cheer the heart, May stupefy and stun its smart For one loud busy day. Yes, sweep they on! — But with that skiff Abides the minstrel tale, Where there was dread of surge and cliff, Labour that strained each sinew stiff, And one sad maiden's wail. XVIII All day with fruitless strife they toiled, With eve the ebbing currents boiled. More fierce from strait and lake ; And midway through the channel met Conflicting tides that foam and fret, And high their mingled billows jet, As spears that in the battle set Spring upward as they break. Then too the lights of eve were past, And louder sung the western blast On rocks of Inninmore; Rent was the sail, and strained the mast, And many a leak was gaping fast, And the pale steersman stood aghast And gave the conflict o'er. 247 THE LORD OF THE ISLES XIX *T was then that One whose lofty look Nor labour dulled nor terror shook Thus to the leader spoke ; — 'Brother, how hop'st thou to abide The fury of this 'wildered tide, Or how avoid the rock's rude side Until the day has broke? Didst thou not mark the vessel reel With quivering planks and groaning keel At the last billow's shock? Yet how of better counsel tell, Though here thou see'st poor Isabel Half dead with want and fear; For look on sea, or look on land, Or yon dark sky, on every hand Despair and death are near. For her alone I grieve — on me Danger sits light by land and sea, I follow where thou wilt; Either to bide the tempest's lour, Or wend to yon unfriendly tower. Or rush amid their naval power. With war-cry wake their wassail-hour. And die with hand on hilt.' 248 I THE LORD OF THE ISLES XX That elder leader's calm reply In steady voice was given, * In man's most dark extremity Oft succour dawns from heaven. Edward, trim thou the shattered sail, The helm be mine, and down the gale Let our free course be driven ; So shall we 'scape the western bay, The hostile fleet, the unequal fray, So safely hold our vessel's way Beneath the castle wall ; For if a hope of safety rest, 'T is on the sacred name of guest. Who seeks for shelter storm-distressed Within a chieftain's hall. If not — it best beseems our worth, Our name, our right, our lofty birth, By noble hands to fall.' XXI The helm, to his strong arm consigned. Gave the reefed sail to meet the wind. And on her altered way Fierce bounding forward sprung the ship, Like greyhound starting from the slip To seize his flying prey. 249 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Awaked before the rushing prow The mimic fires of ocean glow/ Those lightnings of the wave; Wild sparkles crest the broken tides, And flashing round the vessel's sides With elfish lustre lave, While far behind their livid light To the dark billows of the night A gloomy splendour gave, It seems as if old Ocean shakes From his dark brow the lucid flakes In envious pageantry, To match the meteor-light that streaks Grim Hecla's midnight sky. XXII Nor lacked they steadier light to keep Their course upon the darkened deep ; — Artornish, on her frowning steep 'Twixt cloud and ocean hung, Glanced with a thousand lights of glee, And landward far, and far to sea Her festal radiance flung. By that blithe beacon-light they steered, Whose lustre mingled well With the pale beam that now appeared, ' See Note 75. 250 THE LORD OF THE ISLES As the cold moon her head upreared Above the eastern fell. XXIII Thus guided, on their course they bore Until they neared the mainland shore, When frequent on the hollow blast Wild shouts of merriment were cast. And wind and wave and sea-birds' cry With wassail sounds in concert vie, Like funeral shrieks with revelry. Or like the battle-shout By peasants heard from clifTs on high When Triumph, Rage, and Agony Madden the fight and rout. Now nearer yet through mist and storm Dimly arose the castle's form And deepened shadow made, Far lengthened on the main below, Where dancing in reflected glow A hundred torches played, Spangling the wave with lights as vain As pleasures in this vale of pain, That dazzle as they fade. XXIV Beneath the castle's sheltering lee They staid their course in quiet sea. 251 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Hewn in the rock, a passage there Sought the dark fortress by a stair/ So strait, so high, so steep. With peasant's staff one valiant hand Might well the dizzy pass have manned 'Gainst hundreds armed with spear and brand And plunged them in the deep. His bugle then the helmsman wound : Loud answered every echo round From turret, rock, and bay; The postern's hinges crash and groan, And soon the warder's cresset shone On those rude steps of slippery stone, To light the upward way. 'Thrice welcome, holy Sire!' he said; 'Full long the spousal train have staid, And, vexed at thy delay, Feared lest amidst these 'wildering seas The darksome night and freshening breeze Had driven thy bark astray.' — XXV 'Warder,' the younger stranger said, 'Thine erring guess some mirth had made In mirthful hour; but nights like these, When the rough winds wake western seas, • See Note 76. 252 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Brook not of glee. We crave some aid And needful shelter for this maid Until the break of day ; For to ourselves the deck's rude plank Is easy as the mossy bank That's breathed upon by May. And for our storm-tossed skiff we seek Short shelter in this leeward creek, Prompt when the dawn the east shall streak Again to bear away.' Answered the warder, ' In what name Assert ye hospitable claim? Whence come or whither bound? Hath Erin seen your parting sails, Or come ye on Norweyan gales? And seek ye England's fertile vales, Or Scotland's mountain ground?* XXVI 'Warriors — for other title none For some brief space we list to own, Bound by a vow — warriors are we ; In strife by land and storm by sea We have been known to fame; And these brief words have import dear, When sounded in a noble ear, 253 THE LORD OF THE ISLES To harbour safe and friendly cheer That gives us rightful claim. Grant us the trivial boon we seek, And we in other realms will speak Fair of your courtesy; Deny — and be your niggard hold Scorned by the noble and the bold, Shunned by the pilgrim on the wold And wanderer on the lea!' XXVII * Bold stranger, no — 'gainst claim like thine No bolt revolves by hand of mine, Though urged in tone that more expressed A monarch than a suppliant guest. Be what ye will, Artornish Hall On this glad eve is free to all. Though ye had drawn a hostile sword 'Gainst our ally, great England's Lord, Or mail upon your shoulders borne To battle with the Lord of Lorn, Or outlawed dwelt by greenwood tree With the fierce Knight of Ellerslie, Or aided even the murderous strife When Comyn fell beneath the knife Of that fell homicide the Bruce, This night had been a term of truce. — 2S4 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Ho, vassals! give these guests your care, And show the narrow postern stair.* XXVIII To land these two bold brethren leapt — The weary crew their vessel kept — And, lighted by the torches' flare That seaward flung their smoky glare, The younger knight that maiden bare Half lifeless up the rock; On his strong shoulder leaned her head, And down her long dark tresses shed. As the wild vine in tendrils spread Droops from the mountain oak. Him followed close that elder lord. And in his hand a sheathed sword Such as few arms could wield ; But when he bouned him to such task Well could it cleave the strongest casque And rend the surest shield. XXIX The raised portcullis' arch they pass. The wicket with its bars of brass, The entrance long and low, Flanked at each turn by loopholes strait, 2SS THE LORD OF THE ISLES Where bowmen might in ambush wait — If force or fraud should burst the gate — To gall an entering foe. But every jealous post of ward Was now defenceless and unbarred, And all the passage free To one low-browed and vaulted room Where squire and yeoman, page and groom, Plied their loud revelry. XXX And ' Rest ye here,' the warder bade, *Till to our lord your suit is said. — And, comrades, gaze not on the maid And on these men who ask our aid, As if ye ne'er had seen A damsel tired of midnight bark Or wanderers of a moulding stark And bearing martial mien.* But not for Eachin's reproof Would page or vassal stand aloof, But crowded on to stare. As men of courtesy untaught. Till Fiery Edward roughly caught From one the foremost there His chequered plaid, and in its shroud, 256 THE LORD OF THE ISLES To hide her from the vulgar crowd, Involved his sister fair. His brother, as the clansman bent His sullen brow in discontent, Made brief and stern excuse : 'Vassal, were thine the cloak of pall That decks thy lord in bridal hall, *T were honoured by her use.' XXXI Proud was his tone but calm ; his eye Had that compelling dignity. His mien that bearing haught and high, Which common spirits fear; Needed nor word nor signal more, Nod, wink, and laughter, all were o'er; Upon each other back they bore, And gazed like startled deer. But now appeared the seneschal, Commissioned by his lord to call The strangers to the baron's hall. Where feasted fair and free That Island Prince in nuptial tide With Edith there his lovely bride. And her bold brother by her side. And many a chief, the flower and pride Of Western land and sea. 49 257 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Here pause we, gentles, for a space; And, if our tale hath won your grace, Grant us brief patience and again We will renew the minstrel strain. 1 CANTO SECOND I Fill the bright goblet, spread the festive board! Summon the gay, the noble, and the fair! Through the loud hall in joyous concert poured, Let mirth and music sound the dirge of Care! But ask thou not if Happiness be there, If the loud laugh disguise convulsive throe, Or if the brow the heart's true livery wear; Lift not the festal mask ! — enough to know, No scene of mortal life but teems with mortal woe. II With beakers' clang, with harpers' lay, With all that olden time deemed gay, The Island Chieftain feasted high; But there was in his troubled eye A gloomy fire, and on his brow Now sudden flushed and faded now Emotions such as draw their birth From deeper source than festal mirth. By fits he paused, and harper's strain And jester's tale went round in vain, Or fell but on his idle ear 259 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Like distant sounds which dreamers hear. Then would he rouse him, and employ Each art to aid the clamorous joy, And call for pledge and lay, And, for brief space, of all the crowd, As he was loudest of the loud. Seemed gayest of the gay. Ill Yet nought amiss the bridal throng Marked in brief mirth or musing long; The vacant brow, the unlistening ear, They gave to thoughts of raptures near, And his fierce starts of sudden glee Seemed bursts of bridegroom's ecstasy. Nor thus alone misjudged the crowd. Since lofty Lorn, suspicious, proud, And jealous of his honoured line, And that keen knight, De Argentine * — From England sent on errand high The western league more firm to tie — Both deemed in Ronald's mood to find A lover's transport-troubled mind. But one sad heart, one tearful eye. Pierced deeper through the mystery, > See Note 77. 260 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And watched with agony and fear Her wayward bridegroom's varied cheer. IV She watched — yet feared to meet his glance, And he shunned hers ; — till when by chance They met, the point of foeman's lance Had given a milder pang! Beneath the intolerable smart He writhed ; — then sternly manned his heart To play his hard but destined part, And from the table sprang. 'Fill me the mighty cup,' he said,^ ' Erst owned by royal Somerled ! Fill it, till on the studded brim In burning gold the bubbles swim, And every gem of varied shine Glow doubly bright in rosy wine ! To you, brave lord, and brother mine, Of Lorn, this pledge I drink — The Union of Our House with thine, By this fair bridal-link!' 'Let it pass round!' quoth he of Lorn, 'And in good time — that winded horn » See Note 78. 261 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Must of the abbot tell; The laggard monk is come at last.' Lord Ronald heard the bugle-blast, And on the floor at random cast The untasted goblet fell. But when the warder in his ear Tells other news, his blither cheer Returns like sun of May When through a thunder-cloud it beams! Lord of two hundred isles, he seems As glad of brief delay As some poor criminal might feel When from the gibbet or the wheel Respited for a day. VI 'Brother of Lorn,' with hurried voice He said, 'and you, fair lords, rejoice! Here, to augment our glee. Come wandering knights from travel far, Well proved, they say, in strife of war And tempest on the sea. — Ho ! give them at your board such place As best their presences may grace, And bid them welcome free ! ' With solemn step and silver wand, The seneschal the presence scanned 262 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Of these strange guests, and well he knew How to assign their rank its due ; ^ For though the costly furs That erst had decked their caps were torn, And their gay robes were over-worn, And soiled their gilded spurs. Yet such a high commanding grace Was in their mien and in their face As suited best the princely dais And royal canopy; And there he marshalled them their place, First of that company. « VII Then lords and ladies spake aside, And angry looks the error chide That gave to guests unnamed, unknown, A place so near their prince's throne ; But Owen Erraught said, 'For forty years a seneschal. To marshal guests in bower and hall Has been my honoured trade. Worship and birth to me are known, By look, by bearing, and by tone, Not by furred robe or broidered zone ; And 'gainst an oaken bough • See Note 79. 263 THE LORD OF THE ISLES I '11 gage my silver wand of state That these three strangers oft have sate In higher place than now.' VIII *I too,' the aged Ferrand said, *Am qualified by minstrel trade Of rank and place to tell ; — Marked ye the younger stranger's eye. My mates, how quick, how keen, how high, How fierce its flashes fell. Glancing among the noble rout As if to seek the noblest out. Because the owner might not brook On any save his peers to look? And yet it moves me more, That steady, calm, majestic brow, With which the elder chief even now Scanned the gay presence o'er. Like being of superior kind, In whose high-toned impartial mind Degrees of mortal rank and state Seem objects of indifferent weight. The lady too — though closely tied The mantle veil both face and eye. Her motions' grace it could not hide. Nor cloud her form's fair symmetry.' 264 THE LORD OF THE ISLES IX Suspicious doubt and lordly scorn Loured on the haughty front of Lorn. From underneath his brows of pride The stranger guests he sternly eyed, And whispered closely what the ear Of Argentine alone might hear; Then questioned, high and brief, If in their voyage aught they knew Of the rebellious Scottish crew Who to Rath-Erin's shelter drew With Carrick's outlawed Chief? ^ And if, their winter's exile o'er, They harbored still by Ulster's shore, Or launched their galleys on the main To vex their native land again? X That younger stranger, fierce and high, At once confronts the chieftain's eye With look of equal scorn: * Of rebels have we nought to show ; But if of royal Bruce thou'dst know, I warn thee he has sworn. Ere thrice three days shall come and go, » See Note 80. 265 THE LORD OF THE ISLES His banner Scottish winds shall blow, Despite each mean or mighty foe, From England's every bill and bow To Allaster of Lorn.' Kindled the mountain chieftain's ire, But Ronald quenched the rising fire: 'Brother, it better suits the time To chase the night with Ferrand's rhyme Than wake 'midst mirth and wine the jars That flow from these unhappy wars.' 'Content,' said Lorn; and spoke apart With Ferrand, master of his art, Then whispered Argentine, 'The lay I named will carry smart To these bold strangers' haughty heart. If right this guess of mine.' He ceased, and it was silence all Until the minstrel waked the hall. XI THE BROOCH OF LORN 'Whence the brooch of burning gold* That clasps the chieftain's mantle-fold, On the varied tartans beaming, Wrought and chased with rare device, Studded fair with gems of price,^ > See Note 8r. • See Note 8a. 266 THE LORD OF THE ISLES As, through night's pale rainbow gleaming, Fainter now, now seen afar, Fitful shines the northern star? *Gem! ne'er wrought on Highland mountain, Did the fairy of the fountain Or the mermaid of the wave Frame thee in some coral cave? Did, in Iceland's darksome mine, Dwarf's swart hands thy metal twine? Or, mortal-moulded, comest thou here From England's love or France's fear? XII SONG CONTINUED ' No ! — thy splendours nothing tell Foreign art or faery spell. Moulded thou for monarch's use, By the overweening Bruce, When the royal robe he tied O'er a heart of wrath and pride; Thence in triumph wert thou torn By the victor hand of Lorn ! 'When the gem was won and lost, Widely was the war-cry tossed ! Rung aloud Bendourish fell, 267 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Answered Douchart's sounding dell, Fled the deer from wild Teyndrum, When the homicide o'ercome Hardly 'scaped with scathe and scorn, Left the pledge with conquering Lorn! XIII SONG CONCLUDED 'Vain was then the Douglas brand,* Vain the Campbell's vaunted hand, Vain Kirkpatrick's bloody dirk,^ Making sure of murder's work; Barendown fled fast away, Fled the fiery De la Haye,' When this brooch triumphant borne Beamed upon the breast of Lorn. 'Farthest fled its former lord, Left his men to brand and cord. Bloody brand of Highland steel, English gibbet, axe, and wheel. Let him fly from coast to coast. Dogged by Comyn's vengeful ghost, While his spoils in triumph worn Long shall grace victorious Lorn!' * See Note 83. » See Note 84. » See Note 8s. 268 THE LORD OF THE ISLES iXIV As glares the tiger on his foes, Hemmed in by hunters, spears, and bows, And, ere he bounds upon the ring, Selects the object of his spring, — Now on the bard, now on his lord, So Edward glared and grasped his sword — But stern his brother spoke, ' Be still. What! art thou yet so wild of will, After high deeds and sufferings long, To chafe thee for a menial's song? — Well hast thou framed, old man, thy strains, To praise the hand that pays thy pains ! ^ Yet something might thy song have told Of Lorn's three vassals, true and bold, Who rent their lord from Bruce's hold As underneath his knee he lay. And died to save him in the fray. I Ve heard the Bruce's cloak and clasp Was clenched within their dying grasp. What time a hundred foemen more Rushed in and back the victor bore, Long after Lorn had left the strife, Full glad to 'scape with limb and life. — Enough of this — and, minstrel, hold » See Note 86. 269 THE LORD OF THE ISLES As minstrel-hire this chain of gold, For future lays a fair excuse To speak more nobly of the Bruce.' — XV 'Now, by Columba's shrine, I swear, And every saint that 's buried there, 'T is he himself!' Lorn sternly cries, 'And for my kinsman's death he dies.' As loudly Ronald calls, ' Forbear ! Not in my sight while brand I wear, O'ermatched by odds, shall warrior fall, Or blood of stranger stain my hall ! This ancient fortress of my race Shall be misfortune's resting-place, Shelter and shield of the distressed, No slaughter-house for shipwrecked guest.' 'Talk not to me,' fierce Lorn replied, * Of odds or match ! — when Comyn died, Three daggers clashed within his side 1 Talk not to me of sheltering hall. The Church of God saw Comyn fall ! On God's own altar streamed his blood, While o'er my prostrate kinsman stood The ruthless murderer — e'en as now — With armed hand and scornful brow ! — 270 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Up, all who love me! blow on blow! And lay the outlawed felons low!' XVI Then up sprang many a mainland lord, Obedient to their chieftain's word. Barcaldine's arm is high in air, And Kinloch-Alline's blade is bare, Black Murthok's dirk has left its sheath, And clenched is Dermid's hand of death. Their muttered threats of vengeance swell Into a wild and warlike yell ; Onward they press with weapons high, The affrighted females shriek and fly, And, Scotland, then thy brightest ray Had darkened ere its noon of day, But every chief of birth and fame That from the Isles of Ocean came At Ronald's side that hour withstood Fierce Lorn's relentless thirst for blood. XVII Brave Torquil from Dunvegan high. Lord of the misty hills of Skye, Mac-Niel, wild Bara's ancient thane, Duart of bold Clan-Gillian's strain, Fergus of Canna's castled bay, 271 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Mac-Duffith, Lord of Colonsay, Soon as they saw the broadswords glance, With ready weapons rose at once, More prompt that many an ancient feud, Full oft suppressed, full oft renewed. Glowed 'twixt the chieftains of Argyle, And many a lord of ocean's isle. Wild was the scene — each sword was bare, Back streamed each chieftain's shaggy hair. In gloomy opposition set. Eyes, hands, and brandished weapons met; Blue gleaming o'er the social board. Flashed to the torches many a sword ; And soon those bridal lights may shine On purple blood for rosy wine. XVIII While thus for blows and death prepared, Each heart was up, each weapon bared, Each foot advanced, — a surly pause Still reverenced hospitable laws. All menaced violence, but alike Reluctant each the first to strike — For aye accursed in minstrel line Is he who brawls 'mid song and wine, And, matched in numbers and in might, Doubtful and desperate seemed the fight. 272 I THE LORD OF THE ISLES Thus threat and murmur died away, Till on the crowded hall there lay Such silence as the deadly still Ere bursts the thunder on the hill. With blade advanced, each chieftain bold Showed like the Sworder's form of old, As wanting still the torch of life To wake the marble into strife. XIX That awful pause the stranger maid And Edith seized to pray for aid. As to De Argentine she clung, Away her veil the stranger flung. And, lovely 'mid her wild despair. Fast streamed her eyes, wide flowed her hair: *0 thou, of knighthood once the flower, Sure refuge in distressful hour. Thou who in Judah well hast fought For our dear faith and oft hast sought Renown in knightly exercise When this poor hand has dealt the prize, Say, can thy soul of honour brook On the unequal strife to look. When, butchered thus in peaceful hall, Those once thy friends, my brethren, fall!* To Argentine she turned her word, 49 273 THE LORD OF THE ISLES But her eye sought the Island Lord. A flush like evening's setting flame Glowed on his cheek ; his hardy frame As with a brief convulsion shook: With hurried voice and eager look, 'Fear not,' he said, 'my Isabel! What said I — Edith ! — all is well — Nay, fear not — I will well provide The safety of my lovely bride — My bride?' — but there the accents clung In tremor to his faltering tongue. XX Now rose De Argentine to claim The prisoners in his sovereign's name To England's crown, who, vassals sworn, 'Gainst their liege lord had weapon borne — Such speech, I ween, was but to hide His care their safety to provide ; For knight more true in thought and deed Than Argentine ne'er spurred a steed — And Ronald who his meaning guessed Seemed half to sanction the request. This purpose fiery Torquil broke: 'Somewhat we've heard of England's yoke,* He said, 'and in our islands Fame Hath whispered of a lawful claim 274 THE LORD OF THE ISLES That calls the Bruce fair Scotland's lord, Though dispossessed by foreign sword. This craves reflection — but though right And just the charge of England's Knight, Let England's crown her rebels seize Where she has power ; — in towers like these, 'Midst Scottish chieftains summoned here To bridal mirth and bridal cheer, Be sure, with no consent of mine Shall either Lorn or Argentine With chains or violence, in our sight, Oppress a brave and banished knight.* XXI Then waked the wild debate again With brawling threat and clamour vain. Vassals and menials thronging in Lent their brute rage to swell the din; When far and wide a bugle-clang From the dark ocean upward rang. ' The abbot comes ! ' they cry at once, 'The holy man, whose favoured glance Hath sainted visions known ; Angels have met him on the way, Beside the blessed martyr's bay, And by Columba's stone. 275 THE LORD OF THE ISLES His monks have heard their hymnings high Sound from the summit of Dun-Y, To cheer his penance lone, When at each cross, on girth and wold — Their number thrice a hundred-fold — His prayer he made, his beads he told, With Aves many a one — He comes our feuds to reconcile, A sainted man from sainted isle; We will his holy doom abide. The abbot shall our strife decide.' XXII Scarcely this fair accord was o'er When through the wide revolving door The black-stoled brethren wind ; Twelve sandalled monks who relics bore, With many a torch-bearer before And many a cross behind. Then sunk each fierce uplifted hand. And dagger bright and flashing brand Dropped swiftly at the sight ; They vanished from the Churchman's eye. As shooting stars that glance and die Dart from the vault of night. 276 THE LORD OF THE ISLES XXIII The abbot on the threshold stood, And in his hand the holy rood ; Back on his shoulders flowed his hood, The torch's glaring ray Showed in its red and flashing light His withered cheek and amice white, His blue eye glistening cold and bright, His tresses scant and grey. 'Fair Lords,' he said, 'Our Lady's love, And peace be with you from above, And Benedicite ! — But what means this? — no peace is here! Do dirks unsheathed suit bridal cheer? Or are these naked brands A seemly show for Churchman's sight When he comes summoned to unite Betrothed hearts and hands?' XXIV Then, cloaking hate with fiery zeal, Proud Lorn first answered the appeal: 'Thou com'st, O holy man, True sons of blessed church to greet, But little deeming here to meet A wretch beneath the ban 277 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Of Pope and Church for murder done Even on the sacred altar-stone — Well mayst thou wonder we should know Such miscreant here, nor lay him low, Or dream of greeting, peace, or truce, With excommunicated Bruce! Yet well I grant, to end debate, Thy sainted voice decide his fate.' XXV Then Ronald pled the stranger's cause, And knighthood's oath and honour's laws; And Isabel on bended knee Brought prayers and tears to back the plea; And Edith lent her generous aid, And wept, and Lorn for mercy prayed. 'Hence,' he exclaimed, 'degenerate maid! Was 't not enough to Ronald's bower ^ I brought thee, like a paramour. Or bond-maid at her master's gate, His careless cold approach to wait? But the bold Lord of Cumberland, The gallant Clifford, seeks thy hand; His it shall be — Nay, no reply! Hence I till those rebel eyes be dry.* » See Note 87. 278 THE LORD OF THE ISLES With grief the abbot heard and saw, Yet nought relaxed his brow of awe. XXVI Then Argentine, in England's name, So highly urged his sovereign's claim He waked a spark that long suppressed Had smouldered in Lord Ronald's breast; And now, as from the flint the fire. Flashed forth at once his generous ire. 'Enough of noble blood,' he said, *By English Edward had been shed, Since matchless Wallace first had been In mockery crowned with wreaths of green,* And done to death by felon hand For guarding well his father's land. Where's Nigel Bruce? and De la Haye, And valiant Seton — where are they? Where Somerville, the kind and free? And Eraser, flower of chivalry?'^ Have they not been on gibbet bound. Their quarters flung to hawk and hound, And hold we here a cold debate To yield more victims to their fate? What! can the English Leopard's mood Never be gorged with northern blood? > See Note 88. * See Note 89. 279 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Was not the life of Athole shed ^ To soothe the tyrant's sickened bed? And must his word till dying day Be nought but quarter, hang, and slay! ^ — Thou frown 'st, De Argentine, — my gage Is prompt to prove the strife I wage.' XXVII *Nor deem,' said stout Dunvegan's knight, 'That thou shalt brave alone the fight! By saints of isle and mainland both, By Woden wild — my grandsire's oath ' — Let Rome and England do their worst, Howe'er attainted or accursed, If Bruce shall e'er find friends again Once more to brave a battle-plain, If Douglas couch again his lance, Or Randolph dare another chance. Old Torquil will not be to lack With twice a thousand at his back. — Nay, chafe not at my bearing bold. Good abbot! for thou know'st of old, Torquil 's rude thought and stubborn will Smack of the wild Norwegian still ; Nor will I barter Freedom's cause For England's wealth or Rome's applause.' • See Note 90. ' See Note 91. ' See Note pa. 280 1 THE LORD OF THE ISLES XXVIII The abbot seemed with eye severe The hardy chieftain's speech to hear; Then on King Robert turned the monk, But twice his courage came and sunk, Confronted with the hero's look; Twice fell his eye, his accents shook; At length, resolved in tone and brow, Sternly he questioned him — 'And thou, Unhappy! what hast thou to plead, Why I denounce not on thy deed That awful doom which canons tell Shuts paradise and opens hell ; Anathema of power so dread It blends the living with the dead, Bids each good angel soar away And every ill one claim his prey; Expels thee from the Church's care And deafens Heaven against thy prayer; Arms every hand against thy life, Bans all who aid thee in the strife, Nay, each whose succour, cold and scant, With meanest alms relieves thy want; Haunts thee while living, — and when dead Dwells on thy yet devoted head, Rends Honour's scutcheon from thy hearse, 281 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Stills o'er thy bier the holy verse, And spurns thy corpse from hallowed ground, Flung like vile carrion to the hound ; Such is the dire and desperate doom For sacrilege, decreed by Rome: And such the well-deserved meed Of thine unhallowed, ruthless deed.' XXIX 'Abbot!' the Bruce replied, 'thy charge It boots not to dispute at large. This much, howe'er, I bid thee know. No selfish vengeance dealt the blow. For Gomyn died his country's foe. Nor blame I friends whose ill-timed speed Fulfilled my soon-repented deed, Nor censure those from whose stern tongue The dire anathema has rung. I only blame mine own wild ire. By Scotland's wrongs incensed to fire. Heaven knows my purpose to atone, Far as I may, the evil done, And hears a penitent's appeal From papal curse and prelate's zeal. My first and dearest task achieved, Fair Scotland from her thrall relieved, Shall many a priest in cope and stole 282 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Say requiem for Red Corny n's soul, While I the blessed cross advance And expiate this unhappy chance In Palestine with sword and lance.* But, while content the Church should know My conscience owns the debt I owe, Unto De Argentine and Lorn The name of traitor I return, Bid them defiance stern and high. And give them in their throats the lie! These brief words spoke, I speak no more. Do what thou wilt; my shrift is o'er.* XXX Like man by prodigy amazed. Upon the king the abbot gazed ; Then o'er his pallid features glance Convulsions of ecstatic trance. His breathing came more thick and fast, And from his pale blue eyes were cast Strange rays of wild and wandering light; Uprise his locks of silver white, Flushed is his brow, through every vein In azure tide the currents strain, And undistinguished accents broke The awful silence ere he spoke. • See Note 93. 283 THE LORD OF THE ISLES XXXI *De Bruce! I rose with purpose dread* To speak my curse upon thy head, And give thee as an outcast o'er To him who burns to shed thy gore ; — But, like the Midianite of old Who stood on Zophim, Heaven-controlled, I feel within mine aged breast A power that will not be repressed.^ It prompts my voice, it swells my veins, It burns, it maddens, it constrains! — De Bruce, thy sacrilegious blow Hath at God's altar slain thy foe: O'ermastered yet by high behest, I bless thee, and thou shalt be blessed ! * He spoke, and o'er the astonished throng Was silence, awful, deep, and long. XXXII Again that light has fired his eye, Again his form swells bold and high, The broken voice of age is gone, 'Tis vigorous manhood's lofty tone: 'Thrice vanquished on the battle-plain, Thy followers slaughtered, fled, or ta'en, • See Note 94. * See Note 95. 284 THE LORD OF THE ISLES A hunted wanderer on the wild, On foreign shores a man exiled/ Disowned, deserted, and distressed, I bless thee, and thou shalt be blessed! Blessed in the hall and in the field, Under the mantle as the shield. Avenger of thy country's shame, Restorer of her injured fame, Blessed in thy sceptre and thy sword, De Bruce, fair Scotland's rightful lord, Blessed in thy deeds and in thy fame, What lengthened honours wait thy name! In distant ages sire to son Shall tell thy tale of freedom won, And teach his infants in the use Of earliest speech to falter Bruce. Go, then, triumphant! sweep along Thy course, the theme of many a song! The Power whose dictates swell my breast Hath blessed thee, and thou shalt be blessed! Enough — my short-lived strength decays, And sinks the momentary blaze, — Heaven hath our destined purpose broke, Not here must nuptial vow be spoke; Brethren, our errand here is o'er, Our task discharged. — Unmoor, unmoor!* * See Note 96. 28s THE LORD OF THE ISLES His priests received the exhausted monk, As breathless in their arms he sunk. Punctual his orders to obey, The train refused all longer stay, Embarked, raised sail, and bore away. CANTO THIRD I Hast thou not marked when o'er thy startled head Sudden and deep the thunder-peal has rolled, How, when its echoes fell, a silence dead Sunk on the wood, the meadow, and the wold? The rye-grass shakes not on the sod-built fold, The rustling aspen's leaves are mute and still, The wall-flower waves not on the ruined hold, Till, murmuring distant first, then near and shrill, The savage whirlwind wakes and sweeps the groaning hill. II Artornish ! such a silence sunk Upon thy halls, when that grey monk His prophet-speech had spoke; And his obedient brethren's sail Was stretched to meet the southern gale Before a whisper woke. Then murmuring sounds of doubt and fear, Close poured in many an anxious ear, The solemn stillness broke; 287 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And still they gazed with eager guess Where in an oriel's deep recess The Island Prince seemed bent to press What Lorn, by his impatient cheer And gesture fierce, scarce deigned to hear. Ill Starting at length with frowning look, His hand he clenched, his head he shook, And sternly flung apart: 'And deem'st thou me so mean of mood As to forget the mortal feud, And clasp the hand with blood imbrued From my dear kinsman's heart? Is this thy rede? — a due return For ancient league and friendship sworn! But well our mountain proverb shows The faith of Islesmen ebbs and flows. Be it even so — believe ere long He that now bears shall wreak the wrong. Call Edith — call the Maid of Lorn! My sister, slaves! — for further scorn. Be sure nor she nor I will stay. — Away, De Argentine, away! — We nor ally nor brother know In Bruce's friend or England's foe.* 288 THE LORD OF THE ISLES IV But who the chieftain's rage can tell When, sought from lowest dungeon cell To highest tower the castle round, No Lady Edith was there found ! He shouted, 'Falsehood! — treachery! — Revenge and blood ! — a lordly meed To him that will avenge the deed I A baron's lands!' — His frantic mood Was scarcely by the news withstood That Morag shared his sister's flight, And that in hurry of the night, 'Scaped noteless and without remark, Two strangers sought the abbot's bark. — 'Man every galley! — fly — pursue! The priest his treachery shall rue! Aye, and the time shall quickly come When we shall hear the thanks that Rome Will pay his feigned prophecy ! ' Such was fierce Lorn's indignant cry; And Cormac Doil in haste obeyed, Hoisted his sail, his anchor weighed — For, glad of each pretext for spoil, A pirate sworn was Cormac Doil.^ But others, lingering, spoke apart, • See Note 97. 49 2S9 THE LORD OF THE ISLES 'The maid has given her maiden heart To Ronald of the Isles, And, fearful lest her brother's word Bestow her on that English lord, She seeks lona's piles, And wisely deems it best to dwell A votaress in the holy cell Until these feuds so fierce and fell The abbot reconciles.' V As, impotent of ire, the hall Echoed to Lorn's impatient call — *My horse, my mantle, and my train! Let none who honours Lorn remain!' — Courteous but stern, a bold request To Bruce De Argentine expressed : 'Lord Earl,' he said, 'I cannot chuse But yield such title to the Bruce, Though name and earldom both are gone Since he braced rebel's armour on — But, earl or serf — rude phrase was thine Of late, and launched at Argentine; Such as compels me to demand Redress of honour at thy hand. We need not to each other tell 290 THE LORD OF THE ISLES That both can wield their weapons well ; Then do me but the soldier grace This glove upon thy helm to place Where we may meet in fight ; And I will say, as still I 've said, Though by ambition far misled, Thou art a noble knight.' VI 'And I,' the princely Bruce replied, 'Might term it stain on knighthood's pride That the bright sword of Argentine Should in a tyrant's quarrel shine; But, for your brave request. Be sure the honoured pledge you gave In every battle-field shall wave Upon my helmet-crest; Believe that if my hasty tongue Hath done thine honour causeless wrong, It shall be well redressed. Not dearer to my soul was glove Bestowed in youth by lady's love Than this which thou hast given 1 Thus then my noble foe I greet; Health and high fortune till we meet, And then — what pleases Heaven.' 291 THE LORD OF THE ISLES VII Thus parted they — for now, with sound Like waves rolled back from rocky ground, The friends of Lorn retire; Each mainland chieftain with his train Draws to his mountain towers again, Pondering how mortal schemes prove vain And mortal hopes expire. But through the castle double guard By Ronald's charge kept wakeful ward, Wicket and gate were trebly barred By beam and bolt and chain ; Then of the guests in courteous sort He prayed excuse for mirth broke short, And bade them in Artornish fort In confidence remain. Now torch and menial tendance led Chieftain and knight to bower and bed, And beads were told and Aves said, And soon they sunk away Into such sleep as wont to shed Oblivion on the weary head After a toilsome day. 292 THE LORD OF THE ISLES VIII But soon uproused, the monarch cried To Edward slumbering by his side, 'Awake, or sleep for aye! Even now there jarred a secret door — A taper-light gleams on the floor — Up, Edward! up, I say! Some one glides in like midnight ghost — Nay, strike not! 't is our noble host.' Advancing then his taper's flame, Ronald stept forth, and with him came Dunvegan's chief — each bent the knee To Bruce in sign of fealty And proffered him his sword, And hailed him in a monarch's style As king of mainland and of isle And Scotland's rightful lord. 'And O,' said Ronald, 'Owned of Heaven! Say, is my erring youth forgiven. By falsehood's arts from duty driven, Who rebel falchion drew, Yet ever to thy deeds of fame, Even while I strove against thy claim, Paid homage just and true?' — 'Alas! dear youth, the unhappy time,' Answered the Bruce, ' must bear the crime 293 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Since, guiltier far than you, Even I ' — he paused ; for Falkirk's woes Upon his conscious soul arose. ^ The chieftain to his breast he pressed, And in a sigh concealed the rest. IX They proffered aid by arms and might To repossess him in his right ; But well their counsels must be weighed Ere banners raised and musters made. For English hire and Lorn's intrigues Bound many chiefs in southern leagues. In answer Bruce his purpose bold To his new vassals frankly told : 'The winter worn in exile o'er, I longed for Carrick's kindred shore. I thought upon my native Ayr And longed to see the burly fare That Clifford makes, whose lordly call Now echoes through my father's hall. But first my course to Arran led Where valiant Lennox gathers head. And on the sea by tempest tossed. Our barks dispersed, our purpose crossed, Mine own, a hostile sail to shun, » See Note 98. 294 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Far from her destined course had run, When that wise will which masters ours Compelled us to your friendly towers.* X Then Torquil spoke : ' The time craves speed ! We must not linger in our deed, But instant pray our sovereign liege To shun the perils of a siege. The vengeful Lorn with all his powers Lies but too near Artornish towers, And England's light-armed vessels ride Not distant far the waves of Clyde, Prompt at these tidings to unmoor. And sweep each strait and guard each shore. Then, till this fresh alarm pass by, Secret and safe my liege must lie In the far bounds of friendly Skye, Torquil thy pilot and thy guide.' — 'Not so, brave chieftain,' Ronald cried; 'Myself will on my sovereign wait, And raise in arms the men of Sleate, Whilst thou, renowned where chiefs debate, Shalt sway their souls by council sage And awe them by thy locks of age.' — 'And if my words in weight shall fail. This ponderous sword shall turn the scale.* 295 THE LORD OF THE ISLES XI *The scheme,* said Bruce, 'contents me well; Meantime, 't were best that Isabel For safety with my bark and crew Again to friendly Erin drew. There Edward too shall with her wend, In need to cheer her and defend And muster up each scattered friend.' Here seemed it as Lord Ronald's ear Would other counsel gladlier hear ; But, all achieved as soon as planned, Both barks, in secret armed and manned, From out the haven bore; On different voyage forth they ply, This for the coast of winged Skye And that for Erin's shore. XII With Bruce and Ronald bides the tale. — To favouring winds they gave the sail Till Mull's dark headlands scarce they knew And Ardnamurchan's hills were blue. But then the squalls blew close and hard, And, fain to strike the galley's yard And take them to the oar, With these rude seas in weary plight 296 THE LORD OF THE ISLES They strove the livelong day and night, Nor till the dawning had a sight Of Skye's romantic shore. Where Coolin stoops him to the west, They saw upon his shivered crest The sun's arising gleam ; But such the labour and delay, Ere they were moored in Scavigh bay — For calmer heaven compelled to stay — He shot a western beam. Then Ronald said, 'If true mine eye, These are the savage wilds that lie North of Strathnardill and Dunskye; ^ No human foot comes here, And, since these adverse breezes blow. If my good liege love hunter's bow. What hinders that on land we go And strike a mountain-deer? " Allan, my page, shall with us wend; A bow full deftly can he bend, And, if we meet a herd, may send A shaft shall mend our cheer.' Then each took bow and bolts in hand, Their row-boat launched and leapt to land, And left their skiff and train, Where a wild stream with headlong shock ' See Note 99. 297 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Came brawling down its bed of rock To mingle with the main. XIII Awhile their route they silent made, As men who stalk for mountain-deer, Till the good Bruce to Ronald said, 'Saint Mary! what a scene is here! I 've traversed many a mountain-strand. Abroad and in my native land, And it has been my lot to tread Where safety more than pleasure led; Thus, many a waste I 've wandered o'er, Clomb many a crag, crossed many a moor. But, by my halidome, A scene so rude, so wild as this. Yet so sublime in barrenness, Ne'er did my wandering footsteps press Where'er I happed to roam.' XIV No marvel thus the monarch spake; For rarely human eye has known A scene so stern as that dread lake With its dark ledge of barren stone. Seems that primeval earthquake's sway Hath rent a strange and shattered way 298 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Through the rude bosom of the hill, And that each naked precipice, Sable ravine, and dark abyss, Tells of the outrage still. The wildest glen but this can show Some touch of Nature's genial glow; On high Benmore green mosses grow, And heath-bells bud in deep Glencroe, And copse on Cruchan-Ben; But here, — above, around, below, On mountain or in glen. Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower, Nor aught of vegetative power, The weary eye may ken. For all is rocks at random thrown. Black waves, bare crags, and banks of stone, As if were here denied The summer sun, the spring's sweet dew, That clothe with many a varied hue The bleakest mountain-side. XV And wilder, forward as they wound. Were the proud cliffs and lake profound. Huge terraces of granite black Afforded rude and cumbered track ; For from the mountain hoar, 299 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Hurled headlong in some night of fear, When yelled the wolf and fled the deer, Loose crags had toppled o'er; And some, chance-poised and balanced, lay So that a stripling arm might sway A mass no host could raise. In Nature's rage at random thrown Yet trembling like the Druid's stone On its precarious base. The evening mists with ceaseless change Now clothed the mountains' lofty range, Now left their foreheads bare, And round the skirts their mantle furled, Or on the sable waters curled; Or on the eddying breezes whirled, Dispersed in middle air. And oft condensed at once they lower When, brief and fierce, the mountain shower Pours like a torrent down. And when return the sun's glad beams, Whitened with foam a thousand streams Leap from the mountain's crown. XVI 'This lake,* said Bruce, 'whose barriers drear Are precipices sharp and sheer, 300 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Yielding no track for goat or deer Save the black shelves we tread, How term you its dark waves? and how Yon northern mountain's pathless brow, And yonder peak of dread That to the evening sun uplifts The griesly gulfs and slaty rifts Which seam its shivered head?* — 'Coriskin call the dark lake's name, Coolin the ridge, as bards proclaim, From old Cuchullin, chief of fame. But bards, familiar in our isles Rather with Nature's frowns than smiles, Full oft their careless humours please By sportive names from scenes like these. I would old Torquil were to show His Maidens with their breasts of snow, Or that my noble liege were nigh To hear his Nurse sing lullaby! — The Maids — tall cliffs with breakers white, The Nurse — a torrent's roaring might — Or that your eye could see the mood Of Corryvrekin's whirlpool rude, When dons the Hag her whitened hood — 'T is thus our islesmen's fancy frames For scenes so stern fantastic names.' 301 THE LORD OF THE ISLES XVII Answered the Bruce, 'And musing mind Might here a graver moral find. These mighty cliffs that heave on high Their naked brows to middle sky, Indifferent to the sun or snow, Where nought can fade and nought can blow, May they not mark a monarch's fate, — Raised high 'mid storms of strife and state, Beyond life's lowlier pleasures placed, His soul a rock, his heart a waste? O'er hope and love and fear aloft High rears his crowned head — But soft! Look, underneath yon jutting crag Are hunters and a slaughtered stag. Who may they be? But late you said No steps these desert regions tread?' — XVIII *So said I — and believed in sooth,' Ronald replied, 'I spoke the truth. Yet now I spy, by yonder stone. Five men — they mark us and come on; And by their badge on bonnet borne I guess them of the land of Lorn, Foes to my liege.' — 'So let it be; 302 THE LORD OF THE ISLES I 've faced worse odds than five to three — But the poor page can little aid ; Then be our battle thus arrayed, If our free passage they contest; Cope thou with two, I 'II match the rest.' — 'Not so, my liege — for, by my life, This sword shall meet the treble strife ; My strength, my skill in arms, more small, And less the loss should Ronald fall. But islesmen soon to soldiers grow,. Allan has sword as well as bow, And were my monarch's order given. Two shafts should make our number even.' - * No ! not to save my life ! ' he said ; * Enough of blood rests on my head Too rashly spilled — we soon shall know. Whether they come as friend or foe.' XIX Nigh came the strangers and more nigh ; — Still less they pleased the monarch's eye. Men were they all of evil mien,^ Down-looked, unwilling to be seen; They moved with half-resolved pace, And bent on earth each gloomy face. The foremost two were fair arrayed « See Note lOO. THE LORD OF THE ISLES With brogue and bonnet, trews and plaid, And bore the arms of mountaineers, Daggers and broadswords, bows and spears. The three that lagged small space behind Seemed serfs of more degraded kind ; Goat-skins or deer-hides o'er them cast Made a rude fence against the blast; Their arms and feet and heads were bare. Matted their beards, unshorn their hair; For arms the caitiffs bore in hand A club, an axe, a rusty brand. XX Onward still mute, they kept the track; — 'Tell who ye be, or else stand back,' Said Bruce ; ' in deserts when they meet, Men pass not as in peaceful street.' Still at his stern command they stood. And proffered greeting brief and rude, But acted courtesy so ill As seemed of fear and not of will. 'Wanderers we are, as you may be; Men hither driven by wind and sea, Who, if you list to taste our cheer, Will share with you this fallow deer.' — 'If from the sea, where lies your bark?* 'Ten fathom deep in ocean dark! 304 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Wrecked yesternight : but we are men Who little sense of peril ken. The shades come down — the day is shut — Will you go with us to our hut?' — 'Our vessel waits us in the bay; Thanks for your proffer — have good-day.' — 'Was that your galley, then, which rode Not far from shore when evening glowed?' — *It was.' — 'Then spare your needless pain, There will she now be sought in vain. We saw her from the mountain head When, with Saint George's blazon red A southern vessel bore in sight, And yours raised sail and took to flight.' — XXI 'Now, by the rood, unwelcome news!' Thus with Lord Ronald communed Bruce; *Nor rests there light enough to show If this their tale be true or no. The men seem bred of churlish kind, Yet mellow nuts have hardest rind ; We will go with them — food and fire And sheltering roof our wants require. Sure guard 'gainst treachery will we keep, And watch by turns our comrades' sleep. — « 305 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Good fellows, thanks ; your guests we '11 be. And well will pay the courtesy. Come, lead us where your lodging lies — Nay, soft! we mix not companies. — Show us the path o'er crag and stone, And we will follow you ; — lead on.' XXII They reached the dreary cabin, made Of sails against a rock displayed. And there on entering found A slender boy, whose form and mien 111 suited with such savage scene, In cap and cloak of velvet green, Low seated on the ground. His garb was such as minstrels wear, Dark was his hue, and dark his hair, His youthful cheek was marred by care, His eyes in sorrow drowned. 'Whence this poor boy?' — As Ronald spoke, The voice his trance of anguish broke; As if awaked from ghastly dream, He raised his head with start and scream, And wildly gazed around ; Then to the wall his face he turned, And his dark neck with blushes burned. 306 THE LORD OF THE ISLES XXIII 'Whose is the boy?' again he said. *By chance of war our captive made; He may be yours, if you should hold That music has more charms than gold ; For, though from earliest childhood mute, The lad can deftly touch the lute, And on the rote and viol play, And well can drive the time away For those who love such glee ; For me the favouring breeze, when loud It pipes upon the galley's shroud. Makes blither melody.' — *Hath he, then, sense of spoken sound?* — 'Aye; so his mother bade us know, A crone in our late shipwreck drowned. And hence the silly stripling's woe. More of the youth I cannot say. Our captive but since yesterday ; When wind and weather waxed so grim, We little listed think of him. — But why waste time in idle words? Sit to your cheer — unbelt your swords.* Sudden the captive turned his head. And one quick glance to Ronald sped. It was a keen and warning look. And well the chief the signal took. 307 THE LORD OF THE ISLES XXIV 'Kind host,* he said, 'our needs require A separate hoard and separate fire; For know that on a pilgrimage Wend I, my comrade, and this page. And, sworn to vigil and to fast Long as this hallowed task shall last, We never doff the plaid or sword, Or feast us at a stranger's board. And never share one common sleep, But one must still his vigil keep. Thus, for our separate use, good friend, We'll hold this hut's remoter end.' — *A churlish vow,' the elder said, 'And hard, methinks, to be obeyed. How say you, if, to wreak the scorn That pays our kindness harsh return, We should refuse to share our meal?' -^ 'Then say we that our swords are steel! And our vow binds us not to fast Where gold or force may buy repast.' — Their host's dark brow grew keen and fell. His teeth are clenched, his features swell; Yet sunk the felon's moody ire Before Lord Ronald's glance of fire. Nor could his craven courage brook 308 THE LORD OF THE ISLES The monarch's calm and dauntless look. With laugh constrained — ' Let every man Follow the fashion of his clan I Each to his separate quarters keep, And feed or fast, or wake or sleep.' XXV Their fire at separate distance burns, By turns they eat, keep guard by turns; For evil seemed that old man's eye. Dark and designing, fierce yet shy. Still he avoided forward look. But slow and circumspectly took A circling, never-ceasing glance, By doubt and cunning marked at once, Which shot a mischief-boding ray From under eyebrows shagged and grey. The younger, too, who seemed his son. Had that dark look the timid shun ; The half-clad serfs behind them sate. And scowled a glare 'twixt fear and hate — Till all, as darkness onward crept. Couched down, and seemed to sleep or slept. Nor he, that boy, whose powerless tongue Must trust his eyes to wail his wrong, A longer watch of sorrow made, But stretched his limbs to slumber laid. 309 THE LORD OF THE ISLES XXVI Not in his dangerous host confides The king, but wary watch provides. Ronald keeps ward till midnight past, Then wakes the king, young Allan last; Thus ranked, to give the youthful page The rest required by tender age. What is Lord Ronald's wakeful thought To chase the languor toil had brought? — For deem not that he deigned to throw Much care upon such coward foe — He thinks of lovely Isabel When at her foeman's feet she fell. Nor less when, placed in princely selle, She glanced on him with favouring eyes At Woodstock when he won the prize. Nor, fair in joy, in sorrow fair. In pride of place as 'mid despair, Must she alone engross his care. His thoughts to his betrothed bride, To Edith, turn — O, how decide, When here his love and heart are given. And there his faith stands plight to Heaven! No drowsy ward 't is his to keep. For seldom lovers long for sleep. Till sung his midnight hymn the owl, 310 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Answered the dog-fox with his howl, Then waked the king — at his request, Lord Ronald stretched himself to rest. XXVII What spell was good King Robert's, say, To drive the weary night away? His was the patriot's burning thought Of freedom's battle bravely fought. Of castles stormed, of cities freed, Of deep design and daring deed, Of England's roses reft and torn. And Scotland's cross in triumph worn, Of rout and rally, war and truce, — As heroes think, so thought the Bruce. No marvel, 'mid such musings high Sleep shunned the monarch's thoughtful eye. Now over Coolin's eastern head The greyish light begins to spread, The otter to his cavern drew. And clamoured shrill the wakening mew; Then watched the page — to needful rest The king resigned his anxious breast. XXVIII To Allan's eyes was harder task The weary watch their safeties ask. 3" THE LORD OF THE ISLES He trimmed the fire and gave to shine With bickering Hght the splintered pine; Then gazed awhile where silent laid Their hosts were shrouded by the plaid. But little fear waked in his mind, For he was bred of martial kind, And, if to manhood he arrive. May match the boldest knight alive. Then thought he of his mother's tower, His little sister's greenwood bower, How there the Easter-gambols pass. And of Dan Joseph's lengthened mass. But still before his weary eye In rays prolonged the blazes die — Again he roused him — on the lake Looked forth where now the twilight-flake Of pale cold dawn began to wake. On Coolin's cliffs the mist lay furled, The morning breeze the lake had curled, The short dark waves, heaved to the land, With ceaseless plash kissed cliff or sand ; — It was a slumbrous sound — he turned To tales at which his youth had burned. Of pilgrim's path by demon crossed, Of sprightly elf or yelling ghost. Of the wild witch's baneful cot, And mermaid's alabaster grot, 312 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Who bathes her limbs in sunless well Deep in Strathaird's enchanted cell.^ Thither in fancy rapt he flies, And on his sight the vaults arise ; That hut's dark walls he sees no more, His foot is on the marble floor, And o'er his head the dazzling spars Gleam like a firmament of stars ! — Hark ! hears he not the sea-nymph speak Her anger in that thrilling shriek ! — No ! all too late, with Allan's dream Mingled the captive's warning scream. As from the ground he strives to start, A ruffian's dagger finds his heart! Upwards he casts his dizzy eyes — Murmurs his master's name — and dies! XXIX Not so awoke the king! his hand Snatched from the flame a knotted brand. The nearest weapon of his wrath ; With this he crossed the murderer's path And venged young Allan well ! The spattered brain and bubbling blood Hissed on the half-extinguished wood, The miscreant gasped and fell ! • See Note loi. THE LORD OF THE ISLES Nor rose in peace the Island Lord ; One caitiff died upon his sword, And one beneath his grasp lies prone In mortal grapple overthrown. But while Lord Ronald's dagger drank The life-blood from his panting flank, The father-rufifian of the band Behind him rears a coward hand ! — O for a moment's aid, Till Bruce, who deals no double blow, Dash to the earth another foe, Above his comrade laid ! — And it is gained — the captive sprung On the raised arm and closely clung. And, ere he shook him loose. The mastered felon pressed the ground, And gasped beneath a mortal wound. While o'er him stands the Bruce. XXX 'Miscreant! while lasts thy flitting spark. Give me to know the purpose dark That armed thy hand with murderous knife Against offenceless stranger's life?' — 'No stranger thou!' with accent fell, Murmured the wretch ; ' I know thee well, And know thee for the foeman sworn 314 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Of my high chief, the mighty Lorn.' — * Speak yet again, and speak the truth For thy soul's sake! — from whence this youth? His country, birth, and name declare, And thus one evil deed repair.' — * Vex me no more ! — my blood runs cold — No more I know than I have told. We found him in a bark we sought With different purpose — and I thought* — Fate cut him short ; in blood and broil, As he had lived, died Cormac Doil. XXXI Then resting on his bloody blade, The valiant Bruce to Ronald said, * Now shame upon us both ! — that boy Lifts his mute face to heaven And clasps his hands, to testify His gratitude to God on high For strange deliverance given. His speechless gesture thanks hath paid, Which our free tongues have left unsaid!' He raised the youth with kindly word, But marked him shudder at the sword: He cleansed it from its hue of death, And plunged the weapon in its sheath. 'Alas, poor child! unfitting part 315 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Fate doomed when with so soft a heart And form so slight as thine She made thee first a pirate's slave, Then in his stead a patron gave Of wayward lot like mine ; A landless prince, whose wandering life Is but one scene of blood and strife — Yet scant of friends the Bruce shall be, But he'll find resting-place for thee. — Come, noble Ronald! o'er the dead Enough thy generous grief is paid, And well has Allan's fate been wroke; Come, wend we hence — the day has broke. Seek we our bark — I trust the tale Was false that she had hoisted sail.' XXXII Yet, ere they left that charnel-cell, The Island Lord bade sad farewell To Allan: 'Who shall tell this tale,' He said, 'in halls of Donagaile? O, who his widowed mother tell That, ere his bloom, her fairest fell? — • Rest thee, poor youth ! and trust my care For mass and knell and funeral prayer; While o'er those caitiffs where they lie The wolf shall snarl , the raven cry ! * 316 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And now the eastern mountain's head On the dark lake threw lustre red ; Bright gleams of gold and purple streak Ravine and precipice and peak — So earthly power at distance shows ; Reveals his splendour, hides his woes. O'er sheets of granite, dark and broad, Rent and unequal, lay the road. In sad discourse the warriors wind, And the mute captive moves behind. CANTO FOURTH I Stranger ! if e'er thine ardent step hath traced The northern realms of ancient Caledon, Where the proud Queen of Wilderness hath placed By lake and cataract her lonely throne, Sublime but sad delight thy soul hath known, Gazing on pathless glen and mountain high, Listing where from the cliffs the torrents thrown Mingle their echoes with the eagle's cry. And with the sounding lake and with the moaning sky. Yes! 't was sublime, but sad. — The loneliness Loaded thy heart, the desert tired thine eye; And strange and awful fears began to press Thy bosom with a stern solemnity. Then hast thou wished some woodman's cottage nigh, Something that showed of life, though low and mean; Glad sight, its curling wreath of smoke to spy, Glad sound, its cock's blithe carol would have been, Or children whooping wild beneath the willows green. Such are the scenes where savage grandeur wakes An awful thrill that softens into sighs; 318 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Such feelings rouse them by dim Rannoch's lakes, In dark Glencoe such gloomy raptures rise: Or farther, where beneath the northern skies Chides wild Loch-Eribol his caverns hoar — But, be the minstrel judge, they yield the prize Of desert dignity to that dread shore That sees grim Coolin rise and hears Coriskin roar. II Through such wild scenes the champion passed. When bold halloo and bugle-blast Upon the breeze came loud and fast. 'There,' said the Bruce, 'rung Edward's horn! What can have caused such brief return? And see, brave Ronald, — see him dart O'er stock and stone like hunted hart. Precipitate, as is the use. In war or sport, of Edward Bruce. He marks us, and his eager cry Will tell his news ere he be nigh.' Ill Loud Edward shouts, 'What make ye here, Warring upon the mountain-deer. When Scotland wants her king? A bark from Lennox crossed our track, With her in speed I hurried back, 319 THE LORD OF THE ISLES These joyful news to bring — The Stuart stirs in Teviotdale, And Douglas wakes his native vale ; Thy storm-tossed fleet hath won its way With little loss to Brodick-Bay, And Lennox with a gallant band Waits but thy coming and command To waft them o'er to Carrick strand. There are blithe news! — but mark the close! Edward, the deadliest of our foes, As with his host he northward passed, Hath on the borders breathed his last.' rv Still stood the Bruce — his steady cheek Was little wont his joy to speak, But then his colour rose: — 'Now, Scotland! shortly shalt thou see, With God's high will, thy children free And vengeance on thy foes! Yet to no sense of selfish wrongs,* Bear witness with me, Heaven, belongs My joy o'er Edward's bier; I took my knighthood at his hand, And lordship held of him and land, And well may vouch it here, • See Note 102. THE LORD OF THE ISLES That, blot the story from his page Of Scotland ruined in his rage, You read a monarch brave and sage And to his people dear.' — 'Let London's burghers mourn her lord And Croydon monks his praise record,* The eager Edward said; 'Eternal as his own, my hate Surmounts the bounds of mortal fate And dies not with the dead ! Such hate was his on Solway's strand When vengeance clenched his palsied hand, That pointed yet to Scotland's land,^ As his last accents prayed Disgrace and curse upon his heir If he one Scottish head should spare Till stretched upon the bloody lair Each rebel corpse was laid ! Such hate was his when his last breath Renounced the peaceful house of death, And bade his bones to Scotland's coast Be borne by his remorseless host, As if his dead and stony eye Could still enjoy her misery! Such hate was his — dark, deadly, long; Mine — as enduring, deep, and strong!' — • See Note 103. 49 321 THE LORD OF THE ISLES V 'Let women, Edward, war with words, • With curses monks, but men with swords: Nor doubt of living foes to sate Deepest revenge and deadliest hate. Now to the sea! Behold the beach, And see the galley's pendants stretch Their fluttering length down favouring gale! Aboard, aboard! and hoist the sail. Hold we our way for Arran first. Where meet in arms our friends dispersed ; Lennox the loyal, De la Haye, And Boyd the bold in battle fray. I long the hardy band to head, And see once more my standard spread. — Does noble Ronald share our course, Or stay to raise his island force?' — 'Come weal, come woe, by Bruce 's side,* Replied the chief, 'will Ronald bide. And since two galleys yonder ride, Be mine, so please my liege, dismissed To wake to arms the clans of Uist, And all who hear the Minche's roar On the Long Island's lonely shore. The nearer Isles with slight delay Ourselves may summon in our way; 322 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And soon on Arran's shore shall meet With Torquil's aid a gallant fleet, If aught avails their chieftain's hest Among the islesmen of the west.' VI Thus was their venturous council said. But, ere their sails the galleys spread, Coriskin dark and Coolin high Echoed the dirge's doleful cry. Along that sable lake passed slow — Fit scene for such a sight of woe — The sorrowing islesmen as they bore The murdered Allan to the shore. At every pause with dismal shout Their coronach of grief rung out, And ever when they moved again The pipes resumed their clamorous strain, And with the pibroch's shrilling wail Mourned the young heir of Donagaile. Round and around, from cliff and cave His answer stern old Coolin gave, Till high upon his misty side Languished the mournful notes and died. For never sounds by mortal made Attained his high and haggard head, 323 THE LORD OF THE ISLES That echoes but the tempest's moan Or the deep thunder's rending groan. VII Merrily, merrily bounds the bark, She bounds before the gale, The mountain breeze from Ben-na-darch Is joyous in her sail! With fluttering sound like laughter hoarse The cords and canvas strain, The waves, divided by her force, In rippling eddies chased her course, As if they laughed again. Not down the breeze more blithely flew, Skimming the wave, the light sea-mew Than the gay galley bore Her course upon that favouring wind. And Coolin's crest has sunk behind And Slapin's caverned shore. 'T was then that warlike signals wake Dunscaith's dark towers and Eisord's lake, And soon from Cavilgarrigh's head Thick wreaths of eddying smoke were spread ; A summons these of war and wrath To the brave clans of Sleat and Strath, And ready at the sight Each warrior to his weapon sprung 324 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And targe upon his shoulder flung, Impatient for the fight. Mac-Kinnon's chief, in warfare grey, Had charge to muster their anay And guide their barks to Brodick Bay. VIII Signal of Ronald's high command, A beacon gleamed o'er sea and land From Canna's tower, that, steep and grey,^ Like falcon-nest o'erhangs the bay. Seek not the giddy crag to climb To view the turret scathed by time; It is a task of doubt and fear To aught but goat or mountain-deer. But rest thee on the silver beach. And let the aged herdsman teach His tale of former day; His cur's wild clamour he shall chide, And for thy seat by ocean's side His varied plaid display ; Then tell how with their chieftain came In ancient times a foreign dame To yonder turret grey. Stern was her lord's suspicious mind Who in so rude a jail confined * See Note 104. THE LORD OF THE ISLES So soft and fair a thrall ! And oft when moon on ocean slept That lovely lady sate and wept Upon the castle-wall, And turned her eye to southern climes, And thought perchance of happier times, And touched her lute by fits, and sung Wild ditties in her native tongue. And still, when on the cliff and bay Placid and pale the moonbeams play. And every breeze is mute. Upon the lone Hebridean's ear Steals a strange pleasure mixed with fear, While from that cliff he seems to hear The murmur of a lute And sounds as of a captive lone That mourns her woes in tongue unknown. Strange is the tale — but all too long Already hath it staid the song — Yet who may pass them by. That crag and tower in ruins grey, Nor to their hapless tenant pay The tribute of a sigh? IX Merrily, merrily bounds the bark O'er the broad ocean driven, 326 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Her path by Ronin's mountains dark^ The steersman's hand hath given. And Ronin's mountains dark have sent Their hunters to the shore, And each his ashen bow unbent, And gave his pastime o'er, And at the Island Lord's command For hunting spear took warrior's brand. On Scooreigg next a warning light ^ Summoned her warriors to the fight ; A numerous race ere stern MacLeod O'er their bleak shores in vengeance strode, When all in vain the ocean-cave Its refuge to his victims gave. The chief, relentless in his wrath. With blazing heath blockades the path ; In dense and stifling volumes rolled. The vapour filled the caverned hold ! The warrior-threat, the infant's plain, The mother's screams, were heard in vain; The vengeful chief maintains his fires Till in the vault a tribe expires! The bones which strew that cavern's gloom Too well attest their dismal doom. • See Note los. * See Note io6. 327 THE LORD OF THE ISLES X Merrily, merrily goes the bark On a breeze from the northward free, So shoots through the morning sky the lark, Or the swan through the summer sea. The shores of Mull on the eastward lay, And Ulva dark and Colonsay, And all the group of islets gay That guard famed Staffa round. Then all unknown its columns rose Where dark and undisturbed repose The cormorant had found, And the shy seal had quiet home And weltered in that wondrous dome Where, as to shame the temples decked By skill of earthly architect. Nature herself, it seemed, would raise A minster to her Maker's praise ! ^ Not for a meaner use ascend Her columns or her arches bend ; Nor of a theme less solemn tells That mighty surge that ebbs and swells, And still, between each awful pause, From the high vault an answer draws In varied tone prolonged and high > See Note 107. 328 THE LORD OF THE ISLES That mocks the organ's melody. Nor doth its entrance front in vain To old lona's holy fane, That Nature's voice might seem to say, 'Well hast thou done, frail child of clay! Thy humble powers that stately shrine Tasked high and hard — but witness mine ! * XI Merrily, merrily goes the bark, Before the gale she bounds ; So darts the dolphin from the shark, Or the deer before the hounds. They left Loch-Tua on their lee, And they wakened the men of the wild Tiree, And the chief of the sandy Coll ; They paused not at Columba's isle. Though pealed the bells from the holy pile, With long and measured toll ; No time for matin or for mass, And the sounds of the holy summons pass Away in the billows' roll. Lochbuie's fierce and warlike lord Their signal saw and grasped his sword, And verdant Islay called her host. And the clans of Jura's rugged coast Lord Ronald's call obey, 329 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And Scarba's isle, whose tortured shore Still rings to Corrievreken's roar, And lonely Colonsay ; — Scenes sung by him who sings no more! His bright and brief career is o'er, And mute his tuneful strains; Quenched is his lamp of varied lore That loved the light of song to pour; A distant and a deadly shore Has Leyden's cold remains!* XII Ever the breeze blows merrily, But the galley ploughs no more the sea. Lest, rounding wild Cantyre, they meet The southern foeman's watchful fleet, They held unwonted way; Up Tarbat's western lake they bore,^ Then dragged their bark the isthmus o'er, As far as Kilmaconnel's shore Upon the eastern bay. It was a wondrous sight to see Topmast and pennon glitter free, High raised above the greenwood tree, As on dry land the galley moves By cliff and copse and alder groves. » See Note io8. ■ See Note 109. THE LORD OF THE ISLES Deep import from that selcouth sign Did many a mountain seer divine, For ancient legends told the Gael That when a royal bark should sail O'er Kilmaconnel moss Old Albyn should in fight prevail, And every foe should faint and quail Before her silver Cross. XIII Now launched once more, the inland sea They furrow with fair augury, And steer for Arran's isle; The sun, ere yet he sunk behind Ben-Ghoil, 'the Mountain of the Wind,'* Gave his grim peaks a greeting kind. And bade Loch Ranza smile. Thither their destined course they drew; It seemed the isle her monarch knew. So brilliant was the landward view. The ocean so serene; Each puny wave in diamonds rolled O'er the calm deep where hues of gold With azure strove and green. The hill, the vale, the tree, the tower, Glowed with the tints of evening's hour, > See Note no. THE LORD OF THE ISLES The beach was silver sheen, The wind breathed soft as lover's sigh, And oft renewed seemed oft to die, With breathless pause between. O, who with speech of war and woes Would wish to break the soft repose Of such enchanting scene? XIV Is it of war Lord Ronald speaks? The blush that dyes his manly cheeks, The timid look, and downcast eye, And faltering voice the theme deny. And good King Robert's brow expressed He pondered o'er some high request, As doubtful to approve ; Yet in his eye and lip the while, Dwelt the half-pitying glance and smile Which manhood's graver mood beguile When lovers talk of love. Anxious his suit Lord Ronald pled ; 'And for my bride betrothed,' he said, * My liege has heard the rumour spread Of Edith from Artornish fled. Too hard her fate — I claim no right To blame her for her hasty flight; Be joy and happiness her lot! — 332 THE LORD OF THE ISLES But she hath fled the bridal-knot, And Lorn recalled his promised plight In the assembled chieftains' sight. — When, to fulfil our fathers' band, I proffered all I could — my hand — I was repulsed with scorn; Mine honour I should ill assert, And worse the feelings of my heart, If I should play a suitor's part Again to pleasure Lorn.* XV 'Young Lord,' the royal Bruce replied, 'That question must the Church decide; Yet seems it hard, since rumours state Edith takes Clifford for her mate, The very tie which she hath broke To thee should still be binding yoke. But, for my sister Isabel — The mood of woman who can tell? I guess the Champion of the Rock, Victorious in the tourney shock, That knight unknown to whom the prize She dealt, — had favour in her eyes; But since our brother Nigel's fate, Our ruined house and hapless state. From worldly joy and hope estranged, 333 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Much is the hapless mourner changed. Perchance,' here smiled the noble King, 'This tale may other musings bring. Soon shall we know — yon mountains hide The little convent of Saint Bride; There, sent by Edward, she must stay Till fate shall give more prosperous day ; And thither will I bear thy suit, Nor will thine advocate be mute.' XVI As thus they talked in earnest mood, That speechless boy beside them stood. He stooped his head against the mast, And bitter sobs came thick and fast, A grief that would not be repressed But seemed to burst his youthful breast. His hands against his forehead held As if by force his tears repelled. But through his fingers long and slight Fast trilled the drops of crystal bright. Edward, who walked the deck apart, First spied this conflict of the heart. Thoughtless as brave, with bluntness kind He sought to cheer the sorrower's mind ; By force the slender hand he drew From those poor eyes that streamed with dew. 334 THE LORD OF THE ISLES As in his hold the stripHng strove — 'T was a rough grasp, though meant in love — Away his tears the warrior swept, And bade shame on him that he wept. * I would to Heaven thy helpless tongue Could tell me who hath wrought thee wrong ! For, were he of our crew the best, The insult went not unredressed. Come, cheer thee ; thou art now of age To be a warrior's gallant page ; Thou shalt be mine ! — a palfrey fair O'er hill and holt my boy shall bear, To hold my bow in hunting grove, Or speed on errand to my love ; For well I wot thou wilt not tell The temple where my wishes dwell.' XVII Bruce interposed, 'Gay Edward, no, This is no youth to hold thy bow, To fill thy goblet, or to bear Thy message light to lighter fair. Thou art a patron all too wild And thoughtless for this orphan child. See'st thou not how apart he steals, Keeps lonely couch, and lonely meals? Fitter by far in yon calm cell 335 THE LORD OF THE ISLES To tend our sister Isabel, With father Augustine to share The peaceful change of convent prayer, Than wander wild adventures through With such a reckless guide as you.' — * Thanks, brother ! ' Edward answered gay, 'For the high laud thy words convey! But we may learn some future day, If thou or I can this poor boy Protect the best or best employ. Meanwhile, our vessel nears the strand ; Launch we the boat and seek the land.* XVIII To land King Robert lightly sprung, And thrice aloud his bugle rung With note prolonged and varied strain Till bold Ben-Ghoil replied again. Good Douglas then and De la Haye Had in a glen a hart at bay, And Lennox cheered the laggard hounds, When waked that horn the greenwood bound *It is the foe!' cried Boyd, who came In breathless haste with eye of flame, — *It is the foe! — Each valiant lord Fling by his bow and grasp his sword ! ' 'Not so,' replied the good Lord James, 336 THE LORD OF THE ISLES 'That blast no English bugle claims. Oft have I heard it fire the fight, Cheer the pursuit, or stop the flight. Dead were my heart and deaf mine ear, If Bruce should call nor Douglas hear! Each to Loch Ranza's margin spring; That blast was winded by the king!' * XIX Fast to their mates the tidings spread, And fast to shore the warriors sped. Bursting from glen and greenwood tree, High waked their loyal jubilee! Around the royal Bruce they crowd. And clasped his hands, and wept aloud. Veterans of early fields were there, Whose helmets pressed their hoary hair. Whose swords and axes bore a stain From life-blood of the red-haired Dane; And boys whose hands scarce brooked to wield The heavy sword or bossy shield. Men too were there that bore the scars Impressed in Albyn's woful wars, At Falkirk's fierce and fatal fight, Teyndrum's dread rout, and Methven's flight; The might of Douglas there was seen, * See Note iii. « 337 THE LORD OF THE ISLES There Lennox with his graceful mien; Kirkpa trick, Closeburn's dreaded Knight; The Lindsay, fiery, fierce, and light; The heir of murdered De la Haye, And Boyd the grave, and Seton gay. Around their king regained they pressed, , Wept, shouted, clasped him to their breast, And young and old, and serf and lord, And he who ne'er unsheathed a sword. And he in many a peril tried, Alike resolved the brunt to bide. And live or die by Bruce's side! XX O War! thou hast thy fierce delight, Thy gleams of joy, intensely bright! Such gleams as from thy polished shield Fly dazzling o'er the battle-field ! Such transports wake, severe and high. Amid the pealing conquest cry ; Scarce less, when after battle lost Muster the remnants of a host, And as each comrade's name they tell Who in the well-fought conflict fell. Knitting stern brow o'er flashing eye. Vow to avenge them or to die I — Warriors! — and where are warriors found, 338 THE LORD OF THE ISLES If not on martial Britain's ground? And who, when waked with note of fire, Love more than they the British lyre? — Know ye not, — hearts to honour dear! That joy, deep-thrilling, stern, severe, At which the heartstrings vibrate high, And wake the fountains of the eye? And blame ye then the Bruce if trace Of tear is on his manly face When, scanty relics of the train That hailed at Scone his early reign, This patriot band around him hung, And to his knees and bosom clung? — Blame ye the Bruce? — His brother blamed,* But shared the weakness, while ashamed With haughty laugh his head he turned, And dashed away the tear he scorned. XXI 'T is morning, and the convent bell Long time had ceased its matin knell Within thy walls, Saint Bride! An aged sister sought the cell Assigned to Lady Isabel, And hurriedly she cried, 'Haste, gentle Lady, haste ! — there waits • See Note iia. 339 THE LORD OF THE ISLES A noble stranger at the gates; Saint Bride's poor votaress ne'er has seen A knight of such a princely mien; His errand, as he bade me tell, Is with the Lady Isabel.' The princess rose, — for on her knee Low bent she told her rosary, — 'Let him by thee his purpose teach; I may not give a stranger speech.' — 'Saint Bride forefend, thou royal maid!' The portress crossed herself and said, 'Not to be Prioress might I Debate his will, his suit deny.' — 'Has earthly show then, simple fool, Power o'er a sister of thy rule? And art thou, like the worldly train, Subdued by splendours light and vain?* XXII 'No, lady! in old eyes like mine, Gauds have no glitter, gems no shine; Nor grace his rank attendants vain, One youthful page is all his train. It is the form, the eye, the word, The bearing of that stranger lord ; His stature, manly, bold, and tall. Built like a castle's battled wall, 340 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Yet moulded in such just degrees, His giant-strength seems lightsome ease. Close as the tendrils of the vine His locks upon his forehead twine, Jet-black save where some touch of grey Has ta'en the youthful hue away. Weather and war their rougher trace Have left on that majestic face ; — But 't is his dignity of eye ! There, if a suppliant, would I fly. Secure, 'mid danger, wrongs, and grief, Of sympathy, redress, relief — That glance, if guilty, would I dread More than the doom that spoke me dead ! * 'Enough, enough,' the Princess cried, *'T is Scotland's hope, her joy, her pride! To meaner front was ne'er assigned Such mastery o'er the common mind — Bestowed thy high designs to aid. How long, O Heaven! how long delayed! — Haste, Mona, haste, to introduce My darling brother, royal Bruce!' XXIII They met like friends who part in pain, And meet in doubtful hope again. But when subdued that fitful swell, 341 THE LORD OF THE ISLES The Bruce surveyed the humble cell — 'And this is thine, poor Isabel! — That pallet-couch and naked wall, For room of state and bed of pall ; For costly robes and jewels rare, A string of beads and zone of hair ; And for the trumpet's sprightly call To sport or banquet, grove or hall, The bell's grim voice divides thy care, 'Twixt hours of penitence and prayer ! — O ill for thee, my royal claim From the First David's sainted name! O woe for thee, that while he sought His right, thy brother feebly fought!' XXIV 'Now lay these vain regrets aside. And be the unshaken Bruce ! ' she cried ; * For more I glory to have shared The woes thy venturous spirit dared, When raising first thy valiant band In rescue of thy native land, Than had fair Fortune set me down The partner of an empire's crown. And grieve not that on pleasure's stream No more I drive in giddy dream, For Heaven the erring pilot knew, 34a THE LORD OF THE ISLES And from the gulf the vessel drew, Tried me with judgments stern and great, My house's ruin, thy defeat, Poor Nigel's death, till tamed I own My hopes are fixed on Heaven alone; Nor e'er shall earthly prospects win My heart to this vain world of sin.* XXV *Nay, Isabel, for such stern choice First wilt thou wait thy brother's voice ; Then ponder if in convent scene No softer thoughts might intervene — Say they were of that unknown knight, Victor in Woodstock's tourney-fight — Nay, if his name such blush you owe, Victorious o'er a fairer foe ! ' Truly his penetrating eye Hath caught that blush's passing dye, — Like the last beam of evening thrown On a white cloud, — just seen and gone. Soon with calm cheek and steady eye The princess made composed reply: ' I guess my brother's meaning well ; For not so silent is the cell But we have heard the islesmen all Arm in thy cause at Ronald's call, 343 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And mine eye proves that knight unknown And the brave Island Lord are one. Had then his suit been earlier made, In his own name with thee to aid — But that his plighted faith forbade — I know not — But thy page so near? — This is no tale for menial's ear.' XXVI Still stood that page, as far apart As the small cell would space afford; With dizzy eye and bursting heart He leant his weight on Bruce's sword. The monarch's mantle too he bore, And drew the fold his visage o'er. 'Fear not for him — in murderous strife,* Said Bruce, 'his warning saved my life; Full seldom parts he from my side, And in his silence I confide, Since he can tell no tale again. He is a boy of gentle strain. And I have purposed he shall dwell In Augustine the chaplain's cell And wait on thee, my Isabel. — Mind not his tears; I've seen them flow. As in the thaw dissolves the snow. *T is a kind youth, but fanciful, 344 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Unfit against the tide to pull, And those that with the Bruce would sail Must learn to strive with stream and gale. But forward, gentle Isabel — My answer for Lord Ronald tell.' XXVII *This answer be to Ronald given — The heart he asks is fixed on heaven. My love was like a summer flower That withered in the wintry hour, Born but of vanity and pride, And with these sunny visions died. If further press his suit — then say He should his plighted troth obey. Troth plighted both with ring and word, And sworn on crucifix and sword. — O, shame thee, Robert! I have seen Thou hast a woman's guardian been! Even in extremity's dread hour, When pressed on thee the Southern power, And safety, to all human sight. Was only found in rapid flight. Thou heard 'st a wretched female plain In agony of travail-pain. And thou didst bid thy little band 345 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Upon the instant turn and stand, ^ And dare the worst the foe might do Rather than, like a knight untrue, Leave to pursuers merciless A woman in her last distress. And wilt thou now deny thine aid To an oppressed and injured maid, Even plead for Ronald's perfidy And press his fickle faith on me? — So witness Heaven, as true I vow, Had I those earthly feelings now Which could my former bosom move Ere taught to set its hopes above, I 'd spurn each proffer he could bring Till at my feet he laid the ring. The ring and spousal contract both, And fair acquittal of his oath. By her who brooks his perjured scorn, The ill-requited Maid of Lorn!* XXVIII With sudden impulse forward sprung The page, and on her neck he hung ; Then, recollected instantly, His head he stooped and bent his knee, Kissed twice the hand of Isabel, • See Note 113. THE LORD OF THE ISLES Arose, and sudden left the cell, — The princess, loosened from his hold, Blushed angry at his bearing bold ; But good King Robert cried, * Chafe not — by signs he speaks his mind, He heard the plan my care designed, Nor could his transports hide. — But, sister, now bethink thee well ; No easy choice the convent cell ; Trust, I shall play no tyrant part, Either to force thy hand or heart, Or suffer that Lord Ronald scorn Or wrong for thee the Maid of Lorn. But think, — not long the time has been. That thou wert wont to sigh unseen, And wouldst the ditties best approve That told some lay of hapless love. Now are thy wishes in thy power, And thou art bent on cloister bower! O, if our Edward knew the change. How would his busy satire range, With many a sarcasm varied still On woman's wish and woman's will ! ' — XXIX 'Brother, I well believe,' she said, 'Even so would Edward's part be played. 347 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Kindly in heart, in word severe, A foe to thought and grief and fear, He holds his humour uncontrolled ; But thou art of another mould. Say then to Ronald, as I say, Unless before my feet he lay The ring which bound the faith he swore, By Edith freely yielded o'er, He moves his suit to me no more. Nor do I promise, even if now He stood absolved of spousal vow, That I would change my purpose made To shelter me in holy shade. — Brother, for little space, farewell! To other duties warns the bell.' XXX 'Lost to the world,' King Robert said, When he had left the royal maid, * Lost to the world by lot severe, O, what a gem lies buried here, Nipped by misfortune's cruel frost, The buds of fair affection lost ! — But what have I with love to do? Far sterner cares my lot pursue. Pent in this isle we may not lie, Nor would it long our wants supply. 348 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Right opposite, the mainland towers Of my own Turnberry court our powers — Might not my father's beadsman hoar, Cuthbert, who dwells upon the shore, Kindle a signal-flame to show The time propitious for the blow? It shall be so — some friend shall bear Our mandate with despatch and care; Edward shall find the messenger. That fortress ours, the island fleet May on the coast of Carrick meet. — O Scotland ! shall it e'er be mine To wreak thy wrongs in battle-line, To raise my victor-head, and see Thy hills, thy dales, thy people free, — That glance of bliss is all I crave Betwixt my labours and my grave!* Then down the hill he slowly went, Oft pausing on the steep descent, And reached the spot where his bold train Held rustic camp upon the plain. CANTO FIFTH I On fair Loch-Ranza streamed the early day, Thin wreaths of cottage-smoke are upward curled From the lone hamlet which her inland bay And circling mountains sever from the world. And there the fisherman his sail unfurled, The goat-herd drove his kids to steep Ben-Ghoil, Before the hut the dame her spindle twirled, Courting the sunbeam as she plied her toil, — For, wake where'er he may, man wakes to care and coil. But other duties called each convent maid, Roused by the summons of the moss-grown bell; Sung were the matins and the mass was said. And every sister sought her separate cell. Such was the rule, her rosary to tell. And Isabel has knelt in lonely prayer; The sunbeam through the narrow lattice fell Upon the snowy neck and long dark hair. As stooped her gentle head in meek devotion there. II She raised her eyes, that duty done, When glanced upon the pavement-stone, 3SO THE LORD OF THE ISLES Gemmed and enchased, a golden ring, Bound to a scroll with silken string, With few brief words inscribed to tell, ''This for the Lady Isabel.' Within the writing farther bore, ' 'T was with this ring his plight he swore, With this his promise I restore ; To her who can the heart command Well may I yield the plighted hand. And O, for better fortune born, Grudge not a passing sigh to mourn Her who was Edith once of Lorn!' One single flash of glad surprise Just glanced from Isabel's dark eyes, But vanished in the blush of shame That as its penance instant came. ' O thought unworthy of my race ! Selfish, ungenerous, mean, and base, A moment's throb of joy to own That rose upon her hopes o'erthrown! — Thou pledge of vows too well believed, Of man ingrate and majd deceived, Think not thy lustre here shall gain Another heart to hope in vain ! For thou shalt rest, thou tempting gaud. Where worldly thoughts are overawed. 351 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And worldly splendours sink debased/ Then by the cross the ring she placed. Ill Next rose the thought, — its owner far, How came it here through bolt and bar? — But the dim lattice is ajar. She looks abroad, — the morning dew A light short step had brushed anew, And there were footprints seen On the carved buttress rising still, Till on the mossy window-sill Their track effaced the green. The ivy twigs were torn and frayed, As if some climber's steps to aid. — But who the hardy messenger Whose venturous path these signs infer? — 'Strange doubts are mine! — Mona, draw nigh; Nought 'scapes old Mona's curious eye — What strangers, gentle mother, say. Have sought these holy walls to-day?* 'None, lady, none of note or name; Only your brother's foot-page came At peep of dawn — I prayed him pass To chapel where they said the mass ; But like an arrow he shot by. And tears seemed bursting from his eye.* 352 THE LORD OF THE ISLES IV The truth at once on Isabel As darted by a sunbeam fell : "T is Edith's self! — her speechless woe, Her form, her looks, the secret show! — Instant, good Mona, to the bay, And to my royal brother say, I do conjure him seelc my cell With that mute page he loves so well.' 'What! know'st thou not his warlike host At break of day has left our coast? My old eyes saw them from the tower. At eve they couched in greenwood bower, At dawn a bugle signal made By their bold lord their ranks arrayed ; Up sprung the spears through bush and tree. No time for benedicite ! Like deer that, rousing from their lair, Just shake the dew-drops from their hair And toss their arm^d crest aloft. Such matins theirs ! ' — ' Good mother, soft — Where does my brother bend his way?' — *As I have heard, for Brodick Bay, Across the isle — of barks a score Lie there, 't is said, to waft them o'er. On sudden news, to Carrick shore.' — « 353 THE LORD OF THE ISLES *If such their purpose, deep the need,* Said anxious Isabel, 'of speed! Call Father Augustine, good dame.' — The nun obeyed, the father came. V 'Kind father, hie without delay Across the hills to Brodick Bay. This message to the Bruce be given; I pray him, by his hopes of Heaven, That till he speak with me he stay ! Or, if his haste brook no delay, That he deliver on my suit Into thy charge that stripling mute. Thus prays his sister Isabel For causes more than she may tell — • Away, good father! and take heed That life and death are on thy speed.* His cowl the good old priest did on, Took his piked staff and sandalled shoon, And, like a palmer bent by eld. O'er moss and moor his journey held. VI Heavy and dull the foot of age. And rugged was the pilgrimage; But none were there beside whose care 354 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Might such important message bear. Through birchen copse he wandered slow, Stunted and sapless, thin and low; By many a mountain stream he passed, From the tall cliffs in tumult cast, Dashing to foam their waters dun And sparkling in the summer sun. Round his grey head the wild curlew In many a fearless circle flew. O'er chasms he passed where fractures wide Craved wary eye and ample stride ; ^ He crossed his brow beside the stone Where Druids erst heard victims groan, ^ And at the cairns upon the wild O'er many a heathen hero piled. He breathed a timid prayer for those Who died ere Shiloh's sun arose. Beside Macfarlane's Cross he staid, There told his hours within the shade And at the stream his thirst allayed. Thence onward journeying slowly still. As evening closed he reached the hill Where, rising through the woodland green, Old Brodick's Gothic towers were seen.' From Hastings late, their English lord, Douglas had won them by the sword. * See Note 114. * See Note 115. • See Note n6. 355 THE LORD OF THE ISLES The sun that sunk behind the isle Now tinged them with a parting smile. VII But though the beams of light decay 'T was bustle all in Brodick Bay. The Bruce's followers crowd the shore, And boats and barges some unmoor, Some raise the sail, some seize the oar; Their eyes oft turned where glimmered far What might have seemed an early star On heaven's blue arch save that its light Was all too flickering, fierce, and bright. Far distant in the south the ray Shone pale amid retiring day, But as, on Carrick shore, Dim seen in outline faintly blue, The shades of evening closer drew, It kindled more and more. The monk's slow steps now press the sands, And now amid a scene he stands Full strange to churchman's eye; Warriors, who, arming for the fight, Rivet and clasp their harness light, And twinkling spears, and axes bright. And helmets flashing high. Oft too with unaccustomed ears 356 THE LORD OF THE ISLES A language much unmeet he hears,^ While, hastening all on board, As stormy as the swelling surge That mixed its roar, the leaders urge Their followers to the ocean verge With many a haughty word. VIII Through that wild throng the father passed, And reached the royal Bruce at last. He leant against a stranded boat That the approaching tide must float, And counted every rippling wave As higher yet her sides they lave. And oft the distant fire he eyed, And closer yet his hauberk tied. And loosened in its sheath his brand. Edward and Lennox were at hand, Douglas and Ronald had the care The soldiers to the barks to share. — The monk approached and homage paid; 'And art thou come,' King Robert said, 'So far to bless us ere we part?' — 'My liege, and with a loyal heart! — But other charge I have to tell,' — » See Note 117, 357 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And spoke the hest of Isabel. 'Now by Saint Giles,' the monarch cried, 'This moves me much! — this morning tide I sent the stripling to Saint Bride With my commandment there to bide.' 'Thither he came the portress showed, But there, my liege, made brief abode.* — IX "T was I,' said Edward, 'found employ Of nobler import for the boy. Deep pondering in my anxious mind, A fitting messenger to find To bear thy written mandate o'er To Cuthbert on the Carrick shore, I chanced at early dawn to pass The chapel gate to snatch a mass. I found the stripling on a tomb Low-seated, weeping for the doom That gave his youth to convent gloom. I told my purpose, and his eyes Flashed joyful at the glad surprise. He bounded to the skiff, the sail Was spread before a prosperous gale, And well my charge he hath obeyed ; For see ! the ruddy signal made 358 THE LORD OF THE ISLES That Clifford with his merry-men all Guards carelessly our father's hall,' ^ 'O wild of thought and hard of heart!* Answered the monarch, *on a part Of such deep danger to employ A mute, an orphan, and a boy! Unfit for flight, unfit for strife. Without a tongue to plead for life! Now, were my right restored by Heaven, Edward, my crown I would have given Ere, thrust on such adventure wild, I perilled thus the helpless child.' Offended half and half submiss, — 'Brother and liege, of blame like this,* Edward replied, 'I little dreamed. A stranger messenger, I deemed. Might safest seek the beadsman's cell Where all thy squires are known so well. Noteless his presence, sharp his sense, His imperfection his defence. If seen, none can his errand guess; If ta'en, his words no tale express — Methinks, too, yonder beacon's shine Might expiate greater fault than mine.* t See Note ii8. 359 THE LORD OF THE ISLES 'Rash,' said King Robert, 'was the deed — But it is done. Embark with speed ! — Good father, say to Isabel How this unhappy chance befell; If well we thrive on yonder shore, Soon shall my care her page restore. Our greeting to our sister bear, And think of us in mass and prayer.' XI 'Aye!' said the priest, 'while this poor hand Can chalice raise or cross command. While my old voice has accents' use, Can Augustine forget the Bruce!' Then to his side Lord Ronald pressed, And whispered, 'Bear thou this request, That when by Bruce's side I fight For Scotland's crown and freedom's right, The princess grace her knight to bear Some token of her favouring care ; It shall be shown where England's best May shrink to see it on my crest. And for the boy — since weightier care For royal Bruce the times prepare. The helpless youth is Ronald's charge, His couch my plaid, his fence my targe.' He ceased ; for many an eager hand 360 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Had urged the barges from the strand. Their number was a score and ten, They bore thrice threescore chosen men. With such small force did Bruce at last The die for death or empire cast! XII Now on the darkening main afloat, Ready and manned rocks every boat ; Beneath their oars the ocean's might Was dashed to sparks of glimmering light. Faint and more faint, as off they bore, Their armour glanced against the shore, And, mingled with the dashing tide, Their murmuring voices distant died. — *God speed them!' said the priest, as dark On distant billows glides each bark; *0 Heaven! when swords for freedom shine And monarch's right, the cause is thine! Edge doubly every patriot blow! Beat down the banners of the foe ! And be it to the nations known. That victory is from God alone!* As up the hill his path he drew, He turned his blessings to renew, Oft turned till on the darkened coast All traces of their course were lost ; 361 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Then slowly bent to Brodick tower To shelter for the evening hour. XIII In night the fairy prospects sink Where Cumray's isles with verdant link Close the fair entrance of the Clyde ; The woods of Bute, no more descried, Are gone — and on the placid sea The rowers ply their task with glee, While hands that knightly lances bore Impatient aid the labouring oar. The half-faced moon shone dim and pale, And glanced against the whitened sail; But on that ruddy beacon-light Each steersman kept the helm aright. And oft, for such the king's command. That all at once might reach the strand, From boat to boat loud shout and hail Warned them to crowd or slacken sail. South and by west the armada bore. And near at length the Carrick shore. As less and less the distance grows. High and more high the beacon rose; The light that seemed a twinkling star Now blazed portentous, fierce, and far. Dark-red the heaven above it glowed, 362 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Dark-red the sea beneath it flowed, Red rose the rocks on ocean's brim, In blood-red light her islets swim ; Wild scream the dazzled sea-fowl gave, Dropped from their crags on plashing wave. The deer to distant covert drew, The black-cock deemed it day and crew. Like some tall castle given to flame, O'er half the land the lustre came. 'Now, good my liege and brother sage, What think ye of mine elfin page?' — 'Row on!' the noble king replied, 'We'll learn the truth, whate'er betide; Yet sure the beadsman and the child Could ne'er have waked that beacon wild.' XIV With that the boats approached the land, But Edward's grounded on the sand; The eager knight leaped in the sea Waist-deep, and first on shore was he, Though every barge's hardy band Contended which should gain the land, When that strange light, which seen afar Seemed steady as the polar star, Now, like a prophet's fiery chair, 363 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Seemed travelling the realms of air. Wide o'er the sky the splendour glows As that portentous meteor rose ; Helm, axe, and falchion glittered bright, And in the red and dusky light His comrade's face each warrior saw, Nor marvelled it was pale with awe. Then high in air the beams were lost. And darkness sunk upon the coast. — Ronald to Heaven a prayer addressed. And Douglas crossed his dauntless breast; 'Saint James protect us!' Lennox cried, But reckless Edward spoke aside, 'Deem'st thou, Kirkpatrick, in that flame Red Corny n's angry spirit came. Or would thy dauntless heart endure Once more to make assurance sure?* 'Hush!' said the Bruce; *we soon shall know If this be sorcerer's empty show Or stratagem of southern foe. The moon shines out — upon the sand Let every leader rank his band.* XV Faintly the moon's pale beams supply That ruddy light's unnatural dye; 364 THE LORD OF THE ISLES The dubious cold reflection lay On the wet sands and quiet bay. Beneath the rocks King Robert drew His scattered files to order due, Till shield compact and serried spear In the cool light shone blue and clear. Then down a path that sought the tide That speechless page was seen to glide ; He knelt him lowly on the sand, And gave a scroll to Robert's hand. 'A torch,' the monarch cried. 'What, ho! Now shall we Cuthbert's tidings know.' But evil news the letters bear, The Clifford's force was strong and ware, Augmented too, that very morn. By mountaineers who came with Lorn. Long harrowed by oppressor's hand, Courage and faith had fled the land, And over Carrick, dark and deep, Had sunk dejection's iron sleep. — Cuthbert had seen that beacon flame, Unwitting from what source it came. Doubtful of perilous event, Edward's mute messenger he sent. If Bruce deceived should venture o'er, To warn him from the fatal shore. 36s THE LORD OF THE ISLES XVI As round the torch the leaders crowd, Bruce read these chilling news aloud. 'What council, nobles, have we now? — To ambush us in greenwood bough. And take the chance which fate may send To bring our enterprise to end? Or shall we turn us to the main As exiles, and embark again?* Answered fierce Edward, 'Hap what may, In Carrick Carrick's lord must stay. I would not minstrels told the tale Wildfire or meteor made us quail.' Answered the Douglas, ' If my liege May win yon walls by storm or siege. Then were each brave and patriot heart Kindled of new for loyal part.' Answered Lord Ronald, 'Not for shame Would I that aged Torquil came And found, for all our empty boast, Without a blow we fled the coast. I will not credit that this land, So famed for warlike heart and hand, The nurse of Wallace and of Bruce, Will long with tyrants hold a truce.' *Prove we our fate: the brunt we'll bide!* 366 THE LORD OF THE ISLES So Boyd and Haye and Lennox cried ; So said, so vowed the leaders all ; So Bruce resolved : ' And in my hall Since the bold Southern make their home, The hour of payment soon shall come, When with a rough and rugged host Clifford may reckon to his cost. Meantime, through well-known bosk and dell I '11 lead where we may shelter well.* XVII Now ask you whence that wondrous light,* Whose fairy glow beguiled their sight? — It ne'er was known — yet grey-haired eld A superstitious credence held That never did a mortal hand Wake its broad glare on Carrick strand ; Nay, and that on the selfsame night When Bruce crossed o'er still gleams the light. Yearly it gleams o'er mount and moor And glittering wave and crimsoned shore — But whether beam celestial, lent By Heaven to aid the king's descent, Or fire hell-kindled from beneath To lure him to defeat and death. Or were it but some meteor strange » See Note 119. THE LORD OF THE ISLES Of such as oft through midnight range, Startling the traveller late and lone, I know not — and it ne'er was known. XVIII Now up the rocky pass they drew, And Ronald, to his promise true, Still made his arm the stripling's stay. To aid him on the rugged way. * Now cheer thee, simple Amadine ! Why throbs that silly heart of thine?' — That name the pirates to their slave — In Gaelic 't is the Changeling — gave — 'Dost thou not rest thee on my arm? Do not my plaid-folds hold thee warm? Hath not the wild bull's treble hide This targe for thee and me supplied? Is not Clan-Colla's sword of steel? And, trembler, canst thou terror feel? Cheer thee, and still that throbbing heart; From Ronald's guard thou shalt not part.' — O! many a shaft at random sent Finds mark the archer little meant ! And many a word at random spoken May soothe or wound a heart that's broken! Half soothed, half grieved, half terrified, Close drew the page to Ronald's side; 368 THE LORD OF THE ISLES A wild delirious thrill of joy Was in that hour of agony, As up the steepy pass he strove, Fear, toil, and sorrow lost in love! XIX The barrier of that iron shore, The rock's steep ledge, is now climbed o'er; And from the castle's distant wall,^ From tower to tower the warders call : The sound swings over land and sea, And marks a watchful enemy. — They gained the Chase, a wide domain Left for the castle's sylvan reign — Seek not the scene; the axe, the plough. The boor's dull fence, have marred it now, But then soft swept in velvet green The plain with many a glade between, Whose tangled alleys far invade The depth of the brown forest shade. Here the tall fern obscured the lawn, Fair shelter for the sportive fawn; There, tufted close with copsewood green, Was many a swelling hillock seen ; And all around was verdure meet For pressure of the fairies' feet. * See Note 120. 49 369 THE LORD OF THE ISLES The glossy holly loved the park, The yew-tree lent its shadow dark, And many an old oak, worn and bare, With all its shivered boughs was there. Lovely between, the moonbeams fell On lawn and hillock, glade and dell. The gallant monarch sighed to see These glades so loved in childhood free, Bethinking that as outlaw now He ranged beneath the forest bough. XX Fast o'er the moonlight Chase they sped. Well knew the band that measured tread When, in retreat or in advance. The serried warriors move at once; And evil were the luck if dawn Descried them on the open lawn. Copses they traverse, brooks they cross, Strain up the bank and o'er the moss. From the exhausted page's brow Cold drops of toil are streaming now; With effort faint and lengthened pause, His weary step the stripling draws. ' Nay, droop not yet ! ' the warrior said ; 'Come, let me give thee ease and aid! Strong are mine arms, and little care 370 THE LORD OF THE ISLES A weight so slight as thine to bear. — What! wilt thou not? — capricious boy! — Then thine own limbs and strength employ. Pass but this night and pass thy care, I '11 place thee with a lady fair, Where thou shalt tune thy lute to tell How Ronald loves fair Isabel!' Worn out, disheartened, and dismayed, Here Amadine let go the plaid ; His trembling limbs their aid refuse, He sunk among the midnight dews! XXI What may be done? — the night is gone — The Bruce's band moves swiftly on — Eternal shame if at the brunt Lord Ronald grace not battle's front! — 'See yonder oak within whose trunk Decay a darkened cell hath sunk ; Enter and rest thee there a space, Wrap in my plaid thy limbs, thy face. I will not be, believe me, far, But must not quit the ranks of war. Well will I mark the bosky bourne. And soon, to guard thee hence, return. — Nay, weep not so, thou simple boy! But sleep in peace and wake in joy.' 371 THE LORD OF THE ISLES In sylvan lodging close bestowed, He placed the page and onward strode With strength put forth o'er moss and brook, And soon the marching band o'ertook. XXII Thus strangely left, long sobbed and wept The page till wearied out he slept — A rough voice waked his dream — ' Nay, here, Here by this thicket passed the deer — Beneath that oak old Ryno staid — What have we here? — A Scottish plaid And in its folds a stripling laid? — • Come forth! thy name and business tell! What, silent? — then I guess thee well, The spy that sought old Cuthbert's cell. Wafted from Arran yester morn — Come, comrades, we will straight return. Our lord may choose the rack should teach To this young lurcher use of speech. Thy bow-string, till I bind him fast.* -^ ' Nay, but he weeps and stands aghast ; Unbound we'll lead him, fear it not; 'T is a fair stripling, though a Scot.' The hunters to the castle sped. And there the hapless captive led. 372 THE LORD OF THE ISLES XXIII Stout Clifford in the castle-court Prepared him for the morning sport; And now with Lorn held deep discourse, Now gave command for hound and horse. War-steeds and palfreys pawed the ground, And many a deer-dog howled around. To Amadine Lorn's well-known word Replying to that Southern lord, Mixed with this clanging din, might seem The phantasm of a fevered dream. The tone upon his ringing ears Came like the sounds which fancy hears When in rude waves or roaring winds Some words of woe the muser finds, Until more loudly and more near Their speech arrests the page's ear. XXIV 'And was she thus,' said Clifford, 'lost? The priest should rue it to his cost! What says the monk?' — 'The holy sire Owns that in masquer's quaint attire She sought his skiff disguised, unknown To all except to him alone. But, says the priest, a bark from Lorn 373 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Laid them aboard that very morn, And pirates seized her for their prey. He proffered ransom gold to pay And they agreed — but ere told o'er, The winds blow loud, the billows roar ; They severed and they met no more. He deems — such tempests vexed the coast — Ship, crew, and fugitive were lost. So let it be, with the disgrace And scandal of her lofty race! Thrice better she had ne'er been born Than brought her infamy on Lorn ! * XXV Lord Clifford now the captive spied ; — 'Whom, Herbert, hast thou there?' he cried. *A spy we seized within the Chase, A hollow oak his lurking-place.' — 'What tidings can the youth afford? ' — 'He plays the mute.' — 'Then noose a cord — Unless brave Lorn reverse the doom For his plaid's sake.' — 'Clan-Colla's loom,* Said Lorn, whose careless glances trace Rather the vesture than the face, 'Clan-Colla's dames such tartans twine; Wearer nor plaid claims care of mine. Give him, if my advice you crave, 374 THE LORD OF THE ISLES His own scathed oak ; and let him wave In air unless, by terror wrung, A frank confession find his tongue. — - Nor shall he die without his rite; Thou, Angus Roy, attend the sight, And give Clan-Colla's dirge thy breath As they convey him to his death.' — *0 brother! cruel to the last!' Through the poor captive's bosom passed The thought, but, to his purpose true. He said not, though he sighed, 'Adieu!' XXVI And will he keep his purpose still In sight of that last closing ill. When one poor breath, one single word, May freedom, safety, life, afford? Can he resist the instinctive call For life that bids us barter all? — Love, strong as death, his heart hath steeled, His nerves hath strung — he will not yield ! Since that poor breath, that little word. May yield Lord Ronald to the sword. — Clan-Colla's dirge is pealing wide. The griesly headsman 's by his side ; Along the greenwood Chase they bend, And now their march has ghastly end! 375 THE LORD OF THE ISLES That old and shattered oak beneath, They destine for the place of death. What thoughts are his, while all in vain His eye for aid explores the plain? What thoughts, while with a dizzy ear He hears the death-prayer muttered near? And must he die such death accurst, Or will that bosom-secret burst? Cold on his brow breaks terror's dew, His trembling lips are livid blue; The agony of parting life Has nought to match that moment's strife! XXVII But other witnesses are nigh, Who mock at fear, and death defy! Soon as the dire lament was played It waked the lurking ambuscade. The Island Lord looked forth and spied The cause, and loud in fury cried, * By Heaven, they lead the page to die. And mock me in his agony! They shall abye it!' — On his arm Bruce laid strong grasp, ' They shall not harm A ringlet of the stripling's hair; But till I give the word, forbear. — Douglas, lead fifty of our force 376 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Up yonder hollow water-course, And couch thee midway on the wold, Between the flyers and their hold : A spear above the copse displayed. Be signal of the ambush made. — Edward, with forty spearmen straight Through yonder copse approach the gate. And when thou hear'st the battle-din, Rush forward and the passage win. Secure the drawbridge, storm the port, And man and guard the castle-court. — The rest move slowly forth with me, In shelter of the forest-tree, Till Douglas at his post I see.' XXVIII Like war-horse eager to rush on. Compelled to wait the signal blown. Hid, and scarce hid, by greenwood bough, Trembling with rage stands Ronald now, And in his grasp his sword gleams blue. Soon to be dyed with deadlier hue. — Meanwhile the Bruce with steady eye Sees the dark death-train moving by, And heedful measures oft the space The Douglas and his band must trace. Ere they can reach their destined ground. 377 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Now sinks the dirge's wailing sound, Now cluster round the direful tree That slow and solemn company, While hymn mistuned and muttered prayer The victim for his fate prepare. — What glances o'er the greenwood shade? The spear that marks the ambuscade ! — * Now, noble chief ! I leave thee loose ; Upon them, Ronald!' said the Bruce. XXIX 'The Bruce! the Bruce!' to well-known cry His native rocks and woods reply. 'The Bruce! the Bruce!' in that dread word The knell of hundred deaths was heard. The astonished Southern gazed at first Where the wild tempest was to burst That waked in that presaging name. Before, behind, around it came! Half-armed, surprised, on every side Hemmed in, hewed down, they bled and died. Deep in the ring the Bruce engaged, And fierce Clan-Colla's broadsword raged! Full soon the few who fought were sped, Nor better was their lot who fled And met 'mid terror's wild career The Douglas's redoubted spear! 378 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Two hundred yeomen on that morn The castle left, and none return. XXX Not on their flight pressed Ronald's brand, A gentler duty claimed his hand. He raised the page where on the plain His fear had sunk him with the slain : And twice that morn surprise well near Betrayed the secret kept by fear; Once when with life returning came To the boy's lip Lord Ronald's name, And hardly recollection drowned The accents in a murmuring sound ; And once when scarce he could resist The chieftain's care to loose the vest Drawn tightly o'er his labouring breast. But then the Bruce's bugle blew, For martial work was yet to do. XXXI A harder task fierce Edward waits. Ere signal given the castle gates His fury had assailed ; Such was his wonted reckless mood, Yet desperate valour oft made good, 379 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Even by its daring, venture rude Where prudence might have failed. Upon the bridge his strength he threw, And struck the iron chain in two, By which its planks arose; The warder next his axe's edge Struck down upon the threshold ledge, 'Twixt door and post a ghastly wedge ! The gate they may not close. Well fought the Southern in the fray, ClifiFord and Lorn fought well that day, But stubborn Edward forced his way Against a hundred foes. Loud came the cry, 'The Bruce! the Bruce!' No hope or in defence or truce, — Fresh combatants pour in; Mad with success and drunk with gore, They drive the struggling foe before And ward on ward they win. Unsparing was the vengeful sword, And limbs were lopped and life-blood poured, The cry of death and conflict roared, And fearful was the din ! The startling horses plunged and flung, Clamoured the dogs till turrets rung, Nor sunk the fearful cry Till not a foeman was there found 380 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Alive save those who on the ground Groaned in their agony! XXXII The valiant Cliflford is no more; On Ronald's broadsword streamed his gore. But better hap had he of Lorn, Who, by the foeman backward borne, Yet gained with slender train the port Where lay his bark beneath the fort. And cut the cable loose. Short were his shrift in that debate. That hour of fury and of fate, If Lorn encountered Bruce! Then long and loud the victor shout From turret and from tower rung out, The rugged vaults replied ; And from the donjon tower on high The men of Carrick may descry Saint Andrew's cross in blazonry Of silver waving wide ! XXXIII The Bruce hath won his father's hall ! ^ 'Welcome, brave friends and comrades all, Welcome to mirth and joy! • See Note 121. 381 THE LORD OF THE ISLES The first, the last, is welcome here, From lord and chieftain, prince and peer, To this poor speechless boy. Great God ! once more my sire's abode Is mine — behold the floor I trode In tottering infancy! And there the vaulted arch whose sound Echoed my joyous shout and bound In boyhood, and that rung around To youth's unthinking glee! O, first to thee, all-gracious Heaven, Then to my friends, my thanks be given ! * - He paused a space, his brow he crossed — • Then on the board his sword he tossed. Yet steaming hot ; with Southern gore From hilt to point 't was crimsoned o'er. XXXIV 'Bring here,' he said, 'the mazers four^ My noble fathers loved of yore. Thrice let them circle round the board, The pledge, fair Scotland's rights restored! And he whose lip shall touch the wine Without a vow as true as mine. To hold both lands and life at nought Until her freedom shall be bought, — > See Note 122. 382 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Be brand of a disloyal Scot And lasting infamy his lot! Sit, gentle friends! our hour of glee Is brief, we'll spend it joyously! Blithest of all the sun's bright beams, When betwixt storm and storm he gleams. Well is our country's work begun, But more, far more, must yet be done. Speed messengers the country through ; Arouse old friends and gather new ; ^ Warn Lanark's knights to gird their mail, Rouse the brave sons of Teviotdale, Let Ettrick's archers sharp their darts, The fairest forms, the truest hearts!^ Call all, call all! from Reedswair-Path To the wild confines of Cape-Wrath ; Wide let the news through Scotland ring, - The Northern Eagle claps his wing!' » See Note 123. • See Note 124. CANTO SIXTH I O WHO that shared them ever shall forget The emotions of the spirit-rousing time, When breathless in the mart the couriers met Early and late, at evening and at prime; When the loud cannon and the merry chime Hailed news on news, as field on field was won, When Hope, long doubtful, soared at length sublime, And our glad eyes, awake as day begun. Watched Joy's broad banner rise to meet the rising sun! O these were hours when thrilling joy repaid A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears! The heart-sick faintness of the hope delayed. The waste, the woe, the bloodshed, and the tears, That tracked with terror twenty rolling years, All was forgot in that blithe jubilee! Her downcast eye even pale Affliction rears, To sigh a thankful prayer amid the glee That hailed the Despot's fall, and peace and liberty! Such news o'er Scotland's hills triumphant rode When 'gainst the invaders turned the battle's scale, 384 THE LORD OF THE ISLES When Bruce 's banner had victorious flowed O'er Loudoun's mountain and in Ury's vale;^ When English blood oft deluged Douglas-dale,^ And fiery Edward routed stout Saint John,^ When Randolph's war-cry swelled the southern gale, * And many a fortress, town, and tower was won, And Fame still sounded forth fresh deeds of glory done. 11 Blithe tidings flew from baron's tower To peasant's cot, to forest-bower, And waked the solitary cell Where lone Saint Bride's recluses dwell. Princess no more, fair Isabel, A votaress of the order now, Say, did the rule that bid thee wear Dim veil and woollen scapulare, And reft thy locks of dark-brown hair, That stern and rigid vow. Did it condemn the transport high Which glistened in thy watery eye When minstrel or when palmer told Each fresh exploit of Bruce the bold? — And whose the lovely form that shares Thy anxious hopes, thy fears, thy prayers? No sister she of convent shade ; • See Note 125. • See Note 126. » See Note 127. * See Note 128. 49 385 THE LORD OF THE ISLES So say these locks in lengthened braid, So say the blushes and the sighs, The tremors that unbidden rise. When, mingled with the Bruce's fame. The brave Lord Ronald's praises came. Ill Believe, his father's castle won And his bold enterprise begun. That Bruce's earliest cares restore The speechless page to Arran's shore: Nor think that long the quaint disguise Concealed her from a sister's eyes; And sister-like in love they dwell In that lone convent's silent cell. There Bruce's slow assent allows Fair Isabel the veil and vows; And there, her sex's dress regained. The lovely Maid of Lorn remained. Unnamed, unknown, while Scotland far Resounded with the din of war ; And many a month and many a day In calm seclusion wore away. IV These days, these months, to years had worn When tidings of high weight were borne 386 THE LORD OF THE ISLES To that lone island's shore; Of all the Scottish conquests made By the First Edward's ruthless blade His son retained no more, Northward of Tweed, but Stirling's towers,* Beleaguered by King Robert's powers; And they took term of truce, If England's king should not relieve The siege ere John the Baptist's eve. To yield them to the Bruce. England was roused — on every side Courier and post and herald hied To summon prince and peer. At Berwick-bounds to meet their liege,^ Prepared to raise fair Stirling's siege With buckler, brand, and spear. The term was nigh — they mustered fast, By beacon and by bugle-blast Forth marshalled for the field; There rode each knight of noble name, There England's hardy archers came. The land they trode seemed all on flame With banner, blade, and shield! And not famed England's powers alone, Renowned in arms, the summons own ; For Neustria's knights obeyed, > See Note 129. * See Note 130. THE LORD OF THE ISLES Gascogne hath lent her horsemen good, And Cambria, but of late subdued, Sent forth her mountain-multitude,^ And Connoght poured from waste and wood Her hundred tribes, whose sceptre rude Dark Eth O'Connor swayed.^ V Right to devoted Caledon The storm of war rolls slowly on With menace deep and dread ; So the dark clouds with gathering power Suspend awhile the threatened shower, Till every peak and summit lower Round the pale pilgrim's head. Not with such pilgrim's startled eye King Robert marked the tempest nigh! Resolved the brunt to bide. His royal summons warned the land That all who owned their king's command Should instant take the spear and brand To combat at his side. O, who may tell the sons of fame That at King Robert's bidding came To battle for the right! From Cheviot to the shores of Ross, > See Note 131. ' See Note 13a. 388 THE LORD OF THE ISLES From Solway-Sands to Marshal's-Moss, All bouned them for the fight. Such news the royal courier tells Who came to rouse dark Arran's dells; But farther tidings must the ear Of Isabel in secret hear. These in her cloister walk next morn Thus shared she with the Maid of Lorn: — VI 'My Edith, can I tell how dear Our intercourse of hearts sincere Hath been to Isabel? — Judge then the sorrow of my heart When I must say the words, We part ! The cheerless convent-cell Was not, sweet maiden, made for thee; Go thou where thy vocation free On happier fortunes fell. Nor, Edith, judge thyself betrayed, Though Robert knows that Lorn's high maid And his poor silent page were one. Versed in the fickle heart of man, Earnest and anxious hath he looked How Ronald's heart the message brooked That gave him with her last farewell The charge of Sister Isabel, 389 THE LORD OF THE ISLES To think upon thy better right And keep the faith his promise pHght. Forgive him for thy sister's sake At first if vain repinings wake — Long since that mood is gone: Now dwells he on thy juster claims, And oft his breach of faith he blames — Forgive him for thine own ! ' — VII *No! never to Lord Ronald's bower Will I again as paramour ' — 'Nay, hush thee, too impatient maid, Until my final tale be said ! — The good King Robert would engage Edith once more his elfin page, By her own heart and her own eye Her lover's penitence to try — Safe in his royal charge and free, Should such thy final purpose be, Again unknown to seek the cell. And live and die with Isabel.' Thus spoke the maid — King Robert's eye Might have some glance of policy; Dunstaffnage had the monarch ta'en. And Lorn had owned King Robert's reign; Her brother had to England fled, 390 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And there in banishment was dead ; Ample, through exile, death, and flight, O'er tower and land was Edith's right; This ample right o'er tower and land Were safe in Ronald's faithful hand. VIII Embarrassed eye and blushing cheek Pleasure and shame and fear bespeak! Yet much the reasoning Edith made: 'Her sister's faith she must upbraid, Who gave such secret, dark and dear, In council to another's ear. Why should she leave the peaceful cell? — How should she part with Isabel ? — How wear that strange attire agen? — How risk herself 'midst martial men? — And how be guarded on the way? — At least she might entreat delay.' Kind Isabel with secret smile Saw and forgave the maiden's wile, Reluctant to be thought to move At the first call of truant love. IX O, blame her not! — when zephyrs wake The aspen's trembling leaves must shake; 391 THE LORD OF THE ISLES When beams the sun through April's shower It needs must bloom, the violet flower; And Love, howe'er the maiden strive, Must with reviving hope revive! A thousand soft excuses came To plead his cause 'gainst virgin shame. Pledged by their sires in earliest youth, He had her plighted faith and truth — Then, 't was her liege's strict command, And she beneath his royal hand A ward in person and in land : — And, last, she was resolved to stay Only brief space — one little day — Close hidden in her safe disguise From all, but most from Ronald's eyes — But once to see him more ! — nor blame Her wish — to hear him name her name ! — Then to bear back to solitude The thought he had his falsehood rued! But Isabel, who long had seen Her pallid cheek and pensive mien, And well herself the cause might know, Though innocent, of Edith's woe. Joyed, generous, that revolving time Gave means to expiate the crime. High glowed her bosom as she said, 'Well shall her sufferings be repaid!' 392 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Now came the parting hour — a band From Arran's mountains left the land; Their chief, Fitz-Louis,^ had the care The speechless Amadine to bear To Bruce with honour, as behoved To page the monarch dearly loved. X The king had deemed the maiden bright Should reach him long before the fight, But storms and fate her course delay; It was on eve of battle-day When o'er the Gillie's-hill she rode. The landscape like a furnace glowed, And far as e'er the eye was borne The lances waved like autumn-corn. In battles four beneath their eye The forces of King Robert lie.^ And one below the hill was laid. Reserved for rescue and for aid ; And three advanced formed vaward-line, 'Twixt Bannock's brook and Ninian's shrine. Detached was each, yet each so nigh As well might mutual aid supply. Beyond, the Southern host appears,' A boundless wilderness of spears, » See Note 133. « See Note 134. • See Note 13s. 393 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Whose verge or rear the anxious eye Strove far, but strove in vain, to spy. Thick flashing in the evening beam, Glaives, lances, bills, and banners gleam; And where the heaven joined with the hill, Was distant armour flashing still, So wide, so far, the boundless host Seemed in the blue horizon lost. XI Down from the hill the maiden passed, At the wild show of war aghast; And traversed first the rearward host, Reserved for aid where needed most. The men of Carrick and of Ayr, Lennox and Lanark too, were there, And all the western land ; With these the valiant of the Isles Beneath their chieftains ranked their files * In many a plaided band. There in the centre proudly raised, The Bruce's royal standard blazed, And there Lord Ronald's banner bore A galley driven by sail and oar. A wild yet pleasing contrast made Warriors in mail and plate arrayed • See Note 136. 394 THE LORD OF THE ISLES With the plumed bonnet and the plaid By these Hebrideans worn; But O, unseen for three long years, Dear was the garb of mountaineers To the fair Maid of Lorn! For one she looked — but he was far Busied amid the ranks of war — Yet with affection's troubled eye She marked his banner boldly fly, Gave on the countless foe a glance. And thought on battle's desperate chance. XII To centre of the vaward-line Fitz-Louis guided Amadine. Armed all on foot, that host appears A serried mass of glimmering spears. There stood the Marchers' warlike band, The warriors there of Lodon's land ; Ettrick and Liddell bent the yew, A band of archers fierce though few; The men of Nith and Annan's vale. And the bold Spears of Teviotdale ; — The dauntless Douglas these obey, And the young Stuart's gentle sway. Northeastward by Saint Ninian's shrine. Beneath fierce Randolph's charge, combine 395 THE LORD OF THE ISLES The warriors whom the hardy North From Tay to Sutherland sent forth. The rest of Scotland's war-array With Edward Bruce to westward lay, Where Bannock with his broken bank And deep ravine protects their flank. Behind them, screened by sheltering wood, The gallant Keith, Lord Marshal, stood: His men-at-arms bare mace and lance, And plumes that wave and helms that glance. Thus fair divided by the king. Centre and right and leftward wing Composed his front ; nor distant far Was strong reserve to aid the war. And 't was to front of this array Her guide and Edith made their way. XIII Here must they pause; for, in advance As far as one might pitch a lance, The monarch rode along the van,^ The foe's approaching force to scan. His line to marshal and to range. And ranks to square, and fronts to change. Alone he rode — from head to heel Sheathed in his ready arms of steel ; > See Note 137. \ THE LORD OF THE ISLES Nor mounted yet on war-horse wight, But, till more near the shock of fight, Reining a palfrey low and light. A diadem of gold was set Above his bright steel basinet. And clasped within its glittering twine Was seen the glove of Argentine ; Truncheon or leading staff he lacks, Bearing instead a battle-axe. He ranged his soldiers for the fight Accoutred thus, in open sight Of either host. — Three bowshots far. Paused the deep front of England's war, And rested on their arms awhile, To close and rank their warlike file. And hold high council if that night Should view the strife or dawning light. XIV 0» gay yet fearful to behold. Flashing with steel and rough with gold. And bristled o'er with bills and spears, With plumes and pennons waving fair, Was that bright battle-front! for there Rode England's king and peers: And who, that saw that monarch ride, His kingdom battled by his side, 397 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Could then his direful doom foretell ! — Fair was his seat in knightly selle, And in his sprightly eye was set Some spark of the Plantagenet. Though light and wandering was his glance, It flashed at sight of shield and lance. 'Know'st thou,' he said, 'De Argentine, Yon knight who marshals thus their line?' — 'The tokens on his helmet tell The Bruce, my liege: I know him well.' — 'And shall the audacious traitor brave The presence where our banners wave?' — 'So please my liege,' said Argentine, 'Were he but horsed on steed like mine. To give him fair and knightly chance, I would adventure forth my lance.' — 'In battle-day,' the king replied, ' Nice tourney rules are set aside. — Still must the rebel dare our wrath? Set on him — Sweep him from our path ! * And at King Edward's signal soon Dashed from the ranks Sir Henry Boune. XV Of Hereford's high blood he came, A race renowned for knightly fame. He burned before his monarch's eye 398 THE LORD OF THE ISLES To do some deed of chivalry. He spurred his steed, he couched his lance, And darted on the Bruce at once. As motionless as rocks that bide The wrath of the advancing ride, The Bruce stood fast. — Each breast beat high And dazzled was each gazing eye — The heart had hardly time to think, The eyelid scarce had time to wink, While on the king, like flash of flame, Spurred to full speed the war-horse came! The partridge may the falcon mock, If that slight palfrey stand the shock — But, swerving from the knight's career. Just as they met, Bruce shunned the spear. Onward the baffled warrior bore His course — but soon his course was o'er ! — High in his stirrups stood the king. And gave his battle-axe the swing. Right on De Boune, the whiles he passed. Fell that stern dint — the first — the last ! — Such strength upon the blow was put The helmet crashed like hazel-nut ; The axe-shaft with its brazen clasp Was shivered to the gauntlet grasp. Springs from the blow the startled horse, Drops to the plain the lifeless corse ; 399 THE LORD OF THE ISLES First of that fatal field, how soon, How sudden, fell the fierce De Boune! XVI One pitying glance the monarch sped Where on the field his foe lay dead ; Then gently turned his palfrey's head, And, pacing back his sober way, Slowly he gained his own array. There round their king the leaders crowd, And blame his recklessness aloud That risked 'gainst each adventurous spear A life so valued and so dear. His broken weapon's shaft surveyed The king, and careless answer made, *My loss may pay my folly's tax; I've broke my trusty battle-axe.' *T was then Fitz-Louis bending low Did Isabel's commission show; Edith disguised at distance stands, And hides her blushes with her hands. The monarch's brow has changed its hue, Away the gory axe he threw, While to the seeming page he drew, Clearing war's terrors from his eye. Her hand with gentle ease he took With such a kind protecting look 400 THE LORD OF THE ISLES As to a weak and timid boy Might speak that elder brother's care And elder brother's love were there. XVII 'Fear not,' he said, 'young Amadine!' Then whispered, 'Still that name be thine. Fate plays her wonted fantasy, Kind Amadine, with thee and me, And sends thee here in doubtful hour. But soon we are beyond her power; For on this chosen battle-plain, Victor or vanquished, I remain. Do thou to yonder hill repair ; The followers of our host are there, And all who may not weapons bear. — Fitz-Louis, have him in thy care. — Joyful we meet, if all go well ; If not, in Arran's holy cell Thou must take part with Isabel; For brave Lord Ronald too hath sworn, Not to regain the Maid of Lorn — The bliss on earth he covets most — Would he forsake his battle-post. Or shun the fortune that may fall To Bruce, to Scotland, and to all. — But, hark! some news these trumpets tell; 40 401 m\u mc'"-. sii^E mm umr i See Note 147. » See Note 148. 416 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Cried, ' Fight ! ' to terror and despair, Menaced and wept and tore his hair, And cursed their caitiff fears; Till Pembroke turned his bridle rein And forced him from the fatal plain. With them rode Argentine until They gained the summit of the hill, But quitted there the train: — * In yonder field a gage I left, I must not live of fame bereft ; I needs must turn again. Speed hence, my liege, for on your trace The fiery Douglas takes the chase, I know his banner well. God send my sovereign joy and bliss, And many a happier field than this ! — Once more, my liege, farewell ! ' XXXII Again he faced the battle-field, — Wildly they fly, are slain, or yield. 'Now then,' he said, and couched his spear, 'My course is run, the goal is near; One effort more, one brave career. Must close this race of mine.' Then in his stirrups rising high, He shouted loud his battle-cry, 40 417 THE LORD OF THE ISLES * Saint James for Argentine ! * And of the bold pursuers four The gallant knight from saddle bore; But not unharmed — a lance's point Has found his breastplate's loosened joint. An axe has razed his crest ; Yet still on Colonsay's fierce lord, Who pressed the chase with gory sword, He rode with spear in rest, And through his bloody tartans bored And through his gallant breast. Nailed to the earth, the mountaineer Yet writhed him up against the spear. And swung his broadsword round ! Stirrup, steel-boot, and cuish gave way Beneath that blow's tremendous sway, The blood gushed from the wound; And the grim Lord of Colonsay Hath turned him on the ground. And laughed in death-pang that his blade The mortal thrust so well repaid. XXXIII Now toiled the Bruce, the battle done, To use his conquest boldly won ; And gave command for horse and spear To press the Southern's scattered rear, 418 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Nor let his broken force combine, When the war-cry of Argentine Fell faintly on his ear; 'Save, save his life,' he cried, 'O, save The kind, the noble, and the brave!' The squadrons round free passage gave, The wounded knight drew near; He raised his red-cross shield no more, Helm, cuish, and breastplate streamed with gore, Yet, as he saw the king advance. He strove even then to couch his lance — The effort was in vain! The spur-stroke failed to rouse the horse; Wounded and weary, in mid course He stumbled on the plain. Then foremost was the generous Bruce To raise his head, his helm to loose; — 'Lord Earl, the day is thine! My sovereign's charge and adverse fate Have made our meeting all too late ; Yet this may Argentine As boon from ancient comrade crave — A Christian's mass, a soldier's grave.* XXXIV Bruce pressed his dying hand — its grasp Kindly replied ; but, in his clasp, 419 THE LORD OF THE ISLES It stiffened and grew cold — 'And, O farewell!' the victor cried, /Of chivalry the flower and pride, The arm in battle bold, The courteous mien, the noble race, The stainless faith, the manly face! — Bid Ninian's convent light their shrine For late-wake of De Argentine. O'er better knight on death-bier laid Torch never gleamed nor mass was said ! * XXXV Nor for De Argentine alone Through Ninian's church these torches shone And rose the death-prayer's awful tone.^ That yellow lustre glimmered pale On broken plate and bloodied mail. Rent crest and shattered coronet, Of baron, earl, and banneret; And the best names that England knew Claimed in the death-prayer dismal due. Yet mourn not, Land of Fame! Though ne'er the Leopards on thy shield Retreated from so sad a field Since Norman William came. Oft may thine annals justly boast » See Note 149. 420 THE LORD OF THE ISLES Of battles stern by Scotland lost; Grudge not her victory When for her freeborn rights she strove; Rights dear to all who freedom love, To none so dear as thee ! XXXVI Turn we to Bruce, whose curious ear Must from Fitz-Louis tidings hear; With him a hundred voices tell Of prodigy and miracle, 'For the mute page had spoke.' — 'Page!* said Fitz-Louis, 'rather say An angel sent from realms of day To burst the English yoke. I saw his plume and bonnet drop When hurrying from the mountain top; A lovely brow, dark locks that wave, To his bright eyes new lustre gave, A step as light upon the green, As if his pinions waved unseen ! ' 'Spoke he with none?' — 'With none — one word Burst when he saw the Island Lord Returning from the battle-field.' — 'What answer made the chief?' — 'He kneeled, Durst not look up, but muttered low Some mingled sounds that none might know, 421 THE LORD OF THE ISLES And greeted him 'twixt joy and fear As being of superior sphere.' XXXVII Even upon Bannock's bloody plain, Heaped then with thousands of the slain, 'Mid victor monarch's musings high, Mirth laughed in good King Robert's eye: *And bore he such angelic air, Such noble front, such waving hair? Hath Ronald kneeled to him?' he said; 'Then must we call the Church to aid — Our will be to the abbot known Ere these strange news are wider blown, To Cambuskenneth straight he pass And deck the church for solemn mass, To pay for high deliverance given A nation's thanks to gracious Heaven. Let him array besides such state. As should on princes' nuptials wait. Ourself the cause, through fortune's spite, That once broke short that spousal rite, Ourself will grace with early morn The bridal of the Maid of Lorn.* CONCLUSION Go forth, my Song, upon thy venturous way; Go boldly forth ; nor yet thy master blame Who chose no patron for his humble lay. And graced thy numbers with no friendly name Whose partial zeal might smooth thy path to fame. There was — and O, how many sorrows crowd Into these two brief words ! — there was a claim By generous friendship given — had fate allowed, It well had bid thee rank the proudest of the proud ! All angel now — yet little less than all While still a pilgrim in our world below! What 'vails it us that patience to recall Which hid its own to soothe all other woes; What 'vails to tell how Virtue's purest glow Shone yet more lovely in a form so fair : And, least of all, what 'vails the world should know That one poor garland, twined to deck thy hair. Is hung upon thy hearse, to droop and wither there! NOTES AND GLOSSARY NOTES Note i, p. ii 'Barnard Castle,' saith old Leland, 'standeth stately upon Tees.' It is founded upon a very high bank, and its ruins im- pend over the river, including within the area a circuit of six acres and upwards. This once magnificent fortress derives its name from its founder, Barnard Baliol, the ancestor of the short and unfortunate dynasty of that name, which succeeded to the Scottish throne under the patronage of Edward I and Edward III. Baliol's Tower, afterwards mentioned in the poem, is a round tower of great size, situated at the western extremity of the building. It bears marks of great antiquity, and was remark- able for the curious construction of its vaulted roof, which has been lately greatly injured by the operations of some persons, to whom the tower has been leased for the purpose of making patent shot! The prospect from the top of Baliol's Tower com- mands a rich and magnificent view of the wooded valley of the Tees. Barnard Castle often changed masters during the Middle Ages. Upon the forfeiture of the unfortunate John Baliol, the first King of Scotland of that family, Edward I seized this for- tress among the other English estates of his refractory vassal. It was afterwards vested in the Beauchamps of Warwick, and in the Staffords of Buckingham, and was also sometimes in the possession of the Bishops of Durham, and sometimes in that of the Crown. Richard III is said to have enlarged and strength- ened its fortifications, and to have made it for some time his principal residence, for the purpose of bridling and suppressing the Lancastrian faction in the northern counties. From the Staffords, Barnard Castle passed, probably by marriage, into the possession of the powerful Nevilles, Earls of Westmoreland, 427 NOTES and belonged to the last representative of that family when he engaged with the Earl of Northumberland in the ill-concerted insurrection of the twelfth of Queen Elizabeth. Upon this occa- sion, however, Sir George Bowes, of Sheatlam, who held great possessions in the neighbourhood, anticipated the two insurgent earls, by seizing upon and garrisoning Barnard Castle, which he held out for ten days against all their forces, and then surren- dered it upon honourable terms. (See Sadler's State Papers, ii, 330.) In a ballad, contained in Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry, 1, the siege is thus commemorated: — Then Sir George Bowes he straight way rose, i After them some spoyle to make; These noble erles turned back againe. And aye they vowed that knight to take. That baron he to his castle fled : To Barnard Castle then fled he; The uttermost walles were eathe to won, The erles have won them presentlie. The uttermost walles were lime and brick; But though they won them soon anone, Lang ere they wan the innermost walles. For they were cut in rock and stone. By the suppression of this rebellion, and the consequent for- feiture of the Earl of Westmoreland, Barnard Castle reverted to the Crown, and was sold or leased out to Car, Earl of Somerset, the guilty and unhappy favourite of James I. It was afterwards granted to Sir Henry Vane the elder, and was therefore, in all probability, occupied for the Parliament, whose interest during the Civil War was so keenly espoused by the Vanes. It is now, with the other estates of that family, the property of the Right Honourable the Earl of Darlington. Note 2, p. 15 I have had occasion to remark, in real life, the effect of keen and fervent anxiety in giving acuteness to the organs of sense. My gifted friend, Miss Joanna Baillie, whose dramatic works dis- 428 NOTES play such intimate acquaintance with the operations of human passion, has not omitted this remarkable circumstance: — De Montfort (off his guard). 'T is Rezenvelt: I heard his well-known foot, From the first staircase mounting step by step. Freb. How quick an ear thou hast for distant sound 1 I heard him not. [De Montfort looks embarrassed, and is silent.] Note 3, p. 15 The use of complete suits of armour was fallen into disuse during the Civil War, though they were still worn by leaders of rank and importance. ' In the reign of King James I,' says our military antiquary,' no great alterations were made in the article of defensive armour, except that the buff-coat, or jerkin, which was originally worn under the cuirass, now became frequently a substitute for it, it having been found that a good buff leather would of itself resist the stroke of a sword ; this, however, only occasionally took place among the light-armed cavalry and infantry, complete suits of armour being still used among the heavy horse. Buff-coats continued to be worn by the city- trained-bands till within the memory of persons now living, so that defensive armour may, in some measure, be said to have terminated in the same materials with which it began, that is, the skins of animals, or leather.' (Grose's Military Antiquities, London, 1801, 4to, 11, 323.) Of the buff-coats, which were worn over the corselets, several are yet preserved ; and Captain Grose has given an engraving of one which was used in the time of Charles I by Sir Francis Rhodes, Baronet, of Balbrough-Hall, Derbyshire. They were usually lined with silk or linen, secured before by buttons, or by a lace, and often richly decorated with gold or silver embroidery. From the following curious account of a dispute respecting a buff-coat between an old roundhead captain and a justice of peace, by whom his arms were seized after the Restoration, we learn that the value and importance of this defensive garment were considerable : — 429 NOTES 'A party of horse came to my house, commanded by Mr. Peebles, and he told me he was come for my arms, and that I must deliver them. I asked him for his order. He told me he had a better order than Oliver used to give: and, clapping his hand upon his sword-hilt, he said, that was his order. I told him, if he had none but that, it was not sufficient to take my arms; and then he pulled out his warrant, and I read it. It was signed by Wentworth Armitage, a general warrant to search all persons they suspected, and so left the power to the soldiers at their plea- sure. They came to us at Coalley-Hall, about sun-setting; and I caused a candle to be lighted, and conveyed Peebles into the room where my arms were. My arms were near the kitchen fire; and there they took away fowling-pieces, pistols, muskets, carbines, and such like, better than 20/. Then Mr. Peebles asked me for my buff-coat; and I told them they had no order to take away my apparel. He told me I was not to dispute their orders; but if I would not deliver it, he would carry me away prisoner, and had me out of doors. Yet he let me alone unto the next morning, that I must wait upon Sir John, at Halifax; and, coming before him, he threatened me, and said, if I did not send the coat, for it was too good for me to keep. I told him it was not in his power to demand my apparel; and he, growing into a fit, called me rebel and traitor, and said, if I did not send the coat with all speed, he would send me where I did not like well. I told him I was no rebel, and he did not well to call me so before these soldiers and gentlemen, to make me the mark for every one to shoot at. I departed the room; yet, notwithstanding all the threatenings, did not send the coat. But the next day he sent John Lyster, the son of Mr. Thomas Lyster, of Shipden- Hall, for this coat, with a letter, verbatim thus: " Mr. Hodson, I admire you will play the child so with me as you have done, in writing such an inconsiderate letter. Let me have the buff- coat sent forthwith, otherwise you shall so hear from me as will not very well please you." I was not at home when this mes- senger came; but I had ordered my wife not to deliver it, but, if they would take it, let them look to it: and he took it away; 430 NOTES and one of Sir John's brethren wore it many years after. They sent Captain Butt to compound with my wife about it; but I sent word I would have my own again: but he advised me to take a price for it, and make no more ado. I said, it was hard to take my arms and apparel too; I had laid out a great deal of money for them ; I hoped they did not mean to destroy me, by taking my goods illegally from me. He said he would make up the matter, if I pleased, betwixt us; and, it seems, had brought Sir John to a price for my coat. I would not have taken lol. for it; he would have given about 4/.; but, wanting my receipt for the money, he kept both sides, and I had never satisfaction.' (Memoirs of Captain Hodgson, Edinburgh, 1806, p. 178.) Note 4, p. 18 In this character, I have attempted to sketch one of those West-Indian adventurers, who, during the course of the seven- teenth century, were popularly known by the name of Bucaniers. The successes of the English in the predatory incursions upon Spanish America, during the reign of Elizabeth, had never been forgotten; and, from that period downward, the exploits of Drake and Raleigh were imitated, upon a smaller scale indeed, but with equally desperate valour, by small bands of pirates, gathered from all nations, but chiefly French and English. The engrossing policy of the Spaniards tended greatly to increase the number of these freebooters, from whom their commerce and colonies suffered, in the issue, dreadful calamity. The Wind- ward Islands, which the Spaniards did not deem worthy their own occupation, had been gradually settled by adventurers of the French and English nations. But Frederic of Toledo, who was despatched in 1630, with a powerful fleet against the Dutch, had orders from the Court of Madrid to destroy these colonies, whose vicinity at once offended the pride and excited the jealous suspicions of their Spanish neighbours. This order the Spanish Admiral executed with sufificient rigour; but the only conse- quence was, that the planters, being rendered desperate by 431 NOTES persecution, began, under the well-known name of Bucam'ers, to commence a retaliation so horridly savage, that the perusal makes the reader shudder. When they carried on their depreda- tions at sea, they boarded, without respect to disparity of num- ber, every Spanish vessel that came in their way; and, demean- ing themselves, both in the battle and after the conquest, more like demons than human beings, they succeeded in impressing their enemies with a sort of superstitious terror, which rendered them incapable of offering effectual resistance. From piracy at sea, they advanced to making predatory descents on the Spanish territories; in which they displayed the same furious and irresist- ible valour, the same thirst of spoil and the same brutal inhu- manity to their captives. The large treasures which they acquired in their adventures, they dissipated by the most un- bounded licentiousness in gaming, women, wine, and debauch- ery of every species. When their spoils were thus wasted, they entered into some new association, and undertook new adven- tures. For further particulars concerning these extraordinary banditti, the reader may consult Raynal, or the common and popular book called The History of the Bucaniers. Note 5, p. 21 The well-known and desperate battle of Long-Marston Moor, which terminated so unfortunately for the cause of Charles, commenced under very different auspices. Prince Rupert had marched with an army of 20,000 men for the relief of York, then besieged by Sir Thomas Fairfax, at the head of the Parliamen- tary army, and the Earl of Leven, with the Scottish auxiliary forces. In this he so completely succeeded, that he compelled the besiegers to retreat to Marston Moor, a large open plain, about eight miles distant from the city. Thither they were fol- lowed by the Prince, who had now united to his army the garri- son of York, probably not less than ten thousand men strong, under the gallant Marquis (then Earl) of Newcastle. W'hitelocke has recorded, with much impartiality, the following particulars of this eventful day: — 432 NOTES ' The right wing of the Parliament was commanded by Sir Thomas Fairfax, and consisted of all his horse and three regi- ments of the Scots horse; the left wing was commanded by the Earl of Manchester and Colonel Cromwell. One body of their foot was commanded by Lord Fairfax, and consisted of his foot, and two brigades of the Scots foot for reserve; and the main body of the rest of the foot was commanded by General Leven. 'The right wing of the Prince's army was commanded by the Earl of Newcastle; the left wing by the Prince himself; and the main body by General Goring, Sir Charles Lucas, and Major- General Porter; — thus were both sides drawn up into battalia. 'July 3d, 1644. In this posture both armies faced each other, and about seven o'clock in the morning the fight began between them. The Prince, with his left wing, fell on the Parliament's right wing, routed them, and pursued them a great way; the like did General Goring, Lucas, and Porter, upon the Parlia- ment's main body. The three generals, giving all for lost, hasted out of the field, and many of their soldiers fled, and threw down their arms; the King's forces too eagerly following them, the victory, now almost achieved by them, was again snatched out of their hands. For Colonel Cromwell, with the brave regiment of his countrv'men, and Sir Thomas Fairfax, having rallied some of his horse, fell upon the Prince's right wing, where the Earl of Newcastle was, and routed them; and the rest of their com- panions rallying, they fell altogether upon the divided bodies of Rupert and Goring, and totally dispersed them, and obtained a complete victory, after three hours' fight. * From this battle and the pursuit, some reckon were buried 7000 Englishmen; all agree that above 3000 of the Prince's men were slain in the battle, besides those in the chase, and 3000 pri- soners taken, many of their chief ofificers, twenty-five pieces of ordnance, forty-seven colours, 10,000 arms, two waggons of carabins and pistols, 130 barrels of powder, and all their bag and baggage.' (Whitelocke's Memoirs, London, 1682, fol. p. 89.) Lord Clarendon informs us, that the King, previous to receiv- ing the true account of the battle, had been informed, by an " 433 NOTES ; express from Oxford, 'that Prince Rupert had not only relieved York, but totally defeated the Scots, with many particulars to confirm it, all which was so much believed there, that they had made public fires of joy for the victory.' Note 6, p. 29 Monckton and Mitton are villages near the river Ouse, and not very distant from the field of battle. The particulars of the action were violently disputed at the time; but the following extract, from the Manuscript History of the Baronial House of Somerville, is decisive as to the flight of the Scottish General, the Earl of Leven. The particulars are given by the author of the history on the authority of his father, then the representa- tive of the family. This curious manuscript has been published by consent of my noble friend, the present Lord Somerville. 'The order of this great battell, wherin both armies was neer of ane equall number, consisting, to the best calculatione, neer to three score thousand men upon both sydes, I shall not take upon me to discryve; albeit, from the draughts then taken upon the place, and information I receaved from this gentleman, who being then a volunteer, as having no command, had opportunitie and libertie to ryde from the one wing of the armie to the other, to view all ther several squadrons of horse and battallions of foot, how formed, and in what manner drawn up, with every other circumstance relating to the fight, and that both as to the King's armies and that of the Parliament's, amongst whom, untill the engadgment, he went from statione to statione to observe ther order and forme; but that the descriptione of this battell, with the various success on both sides at the beginning, with the loss of the royal armie, and the sad effects that followed that misfor- tune as to his Majestie's interest, hes been so often done already by English authors, little to our commendatione, how justly I shall not dispute, seing the truth is, as our principall generall fled that night neer fourtie mylles from the place of the fight, that part of the armie where he commanded being totallie routed ; but 434 NOTES it is as true, that much of the victorie is attributed to the good conduct of David Lesselie, lievetennent-generall of our horse. Cromwell himself, that minione of fortune, but the rod of God's wrath, to punish eftirward three rebellious nations, disdained not to take orders from him, albeit then in the same qualitie of command for the Parliament, as being lievetennent-general to the Earl of Manchester's horse, whom, with the assistance of the Scots horse, haveing routed the Prince's right wing, as he had done that of the Parliament's. These two commanders of the horse upon that wing, wisely restrained the great bodies of their horse from persuing these brocken troups, but, wheelling to the left-hand, falls in upon the naked flanks of the Prince's main battallion of foot, car>'ing them doune with great violence; nether mett they with any great resistance untill they came to the Marques of Newcastle his battallione of White Coats, who, first peppering them soundly with ther shott, when they came to charge, stoutly boor them up with their picks that they could not enter to break them. Here the Parliament's horse of that wing receaved ther greatest losse, and a stop for sometyme putt to ther hoped-for victorie ; and that only by the stout resistance of this gallant battalione, which consisted neer of four thousand foot, untill at length a Scots regiment of dragouns, commanded by Collonell Frizeall, with other two, was brought to open them upon some hand, which at length they did, when all the ammu- nitione was spent. Having refused quarters, every man fell in the same order and ranke wherin he had foughten. 'Be this execution was done, the Prince returned from the persuite of the right wing of the Parliament's horse, which he had beatten and followed too farre, to the losse of the battell, which certanely, in all men's opinions, he might have caryed if he had not been too violent upon the persuite; which gave his enemies upon the left-hand opportunitie to disperse and cut doune his in- fantrie, who, haveing cleared the field of all the standing bodies of foot, were now, with many of their oune, stand- ing ready to receave the charge of his allmost spent horses, if he should attempt it; which the Prince observeing, and seing all 435 NOTES lost, he retreated to Yorke with two thousand horse. Notwith- standing of this, ther was that night such a consternatione in the Parliament armies, that it 's believed by most of those that wer there present, that if the Prince, haveing so great a body of horse inteire, had made ane onfall that night, or the ensueing morning be-tyme, he had carryed the victorie out of ther hands; for it's certane, by the morning's light, he had rallyed a body of ten thousand men, wherof ther was neer three thousand gallant horse. These, with the assistance of the toune and garrisoune of Yorke, might have done much to have recovered the victory, for the losse of this battell in effect lost the King and his interest in the three kingdomes; his Majestic never being able eftir this to make head in the North, but lost his garrisons every day. 'As for Generall Lesselie, in the beginning of this flight have- ing that part of the army quite brocken, whare he had placed himself, by the valour of the Prince, he imagined and was con- fermed by the opinione of others then upon the place with him, that the battell was irrecoverably lost, seeing they wer fleeing upon all hands; theirfore they humblie entreated his exxellence to reteir and wait his better fortune, which, without farder advyseing, he did; and never drew bridle untill he came the lenth of Leads, having ridden all that night with a cloak of drap de berrie about him, belonging to this gentleman of whom I write, then in his retinue, with many other ofificers of good qualitie. It was neer twelve the next day befor they had the certanety who was master of the field, when at length ther arryves ane expresse, sent by David Lesselie, to acquaint the general they had obtained a most glorious victory, and that the Prince, with his brocken troupes, was fled from Yorke. This intelligence was somewhat amazeing to these gentlemen that had been eye-witnesses to the disorder of the armie befor ther re tearing, and had then accompanyed the General in his flight; who, being much wear>'ed that evening of the battell with order- ing of his armie, and now quite spent with his long journey in the night, had casten himselfe doune upon a bed to rest, when this gentleman comeing quyetly into his chamber, he awoke, and 436 NOTES hastily cryes out, "Lievetennent-collonell, what newes?" "All is safe, may it please your Excellence; the Parliament's armie hes obtained a great victory " ; and then dely\'ers the letter. The Generall, upon the hearing of this, knocked upon his breast, and sayes, "I would to God I had dyed upon the place!" and then opens the letter, which, in a few lines, gave ane account of the victory, and in the close pressed his speedy returne to the armie, which he did the next day, being accompanyed some mylles back by this gentleman, who then takes his leave of him, and receaved at parting many expressions of kyndenesse, with promises that he would never be unmyndful of his care and respect towards him ; and in the end he entreats him to present his service to all his friends and acquaintances in Scotland. Thereftir the Generall sets forward in his journey for the armie, as this gentleman did for , in order to his transportatione for Scotland, where he arryved sex dayes eftir the fight of Mestoune Muir, and gave the first true account and descriptione of that great battell, wherin the Covenanters then gloryed soe much, that they impiously boasted the Lord had now signally appeared for his cause and people; it being ordinary for them, dureing the whole time of this warre, to attribute the greatnes of their suc- cess to the goodnes and justice of ther cause, untill Divine Jus- tice trysted them with some crosse dispensatione, and then you might have heard this language from them, "That it pleases the Lord to give his oune the heavyest end of the tree to bear, that the saints and the people of God must still be sufferers while they are here away, that the malignant party was God's rod to punish them for ther unthankfullnesse, which in the end he will cast into the fire": with a thousand other expressions and Scrip- ture citations prophanely and blasphemously uttered by them, to palliate ther villainie and rebellion.' {Memorie of the Somer- villes, Edinburgh, 1815.) Note 7, p. 29. Cromwell, with his regiment of cuirassiers, had a principal share in turning the fate of the day at Marston Moor; which was 437 NOTES equally matter of triumph to the Independents, and of grief and heart-burning to the Presbyterians and to the Scottish. Prin- cipal Baillie expresses his dissatisfaction as follows: — 'The Independents sent up one quickly to assure that all the glory of that night was theirs; and they and their Major-General Cromwell had done it all there alone; but Captain Stuart after- ward shewed the vanity and falsehood of their disgraceful rela- tion. God gave us that victory wonderfully. There were three generals on each side, Lesley, Fairfax, and Manchester; Rupert, Newcastle, and King. Within half an hour and less, all six took them to their heels ; — this to you alone. The disadvantage of the ground, and violence of the flower of Prince Rupert's horse, carried all our right-wing down; only Eglinton kept ground, to his great loss; his lieutenant-crowner, a brave man, I fear shall die, and his son Robert be mutilated of an arm. Lindsay had the greatest hazard of any; but the beginning of the victory was from David Lesley, who before was much suspected of evil de- signs: he, with the Scots and Cromwell's horse, having the ad- vantage of the ground, did dissipate all before them. (Baillie's Letters and Joitrnalsi Edinburgh, 1785, 8vo, 11, 36.) Note 8, p. 30 In a poem, entitled The Lay of the Reedwater Minstrel, New- castle, 1809, this tale, with many others peculiar to the valley of the Reed, is commemorated: — 'The particulars of the traditional story of Parcy Reed of Troughend, and the Halls of Girsonfield, the author had from a descendant of the family of Reed. From his account, it appears that Percival Reed, Esquire, a keeper of Reedsdale, was be- trayed by the Halls (hence denominated the false-hearted Ha's) to a band of moss-troopers of the name of Crosier, who slew him at Batinghope, near the source of the Reed. 'The Halls were, after the murder of Parcy Reed, held in such universal abhorrence and contempt by the inhabitants of Reedsdale, for their cowardly and treacherous behaviour, that they were obliged to leave the country.' 438 NOTES In another passage, we are informed that the ghost of the injured borderer is supposed to haunt the banks of a brook called the Pringle. These Redes of Troughend were a very ancient family, as may be conjectured from their deriving their sur- name from the river on which they had their mansion. An epi- taph on one of their tombs afhrms, that the family held their lands of Troughend, which are situated on the Reed, nearly opposite to Otterburn, for the incredible space of nine hundred years. Note 9, p. 30 Risingham, upon the river Reed, near the beautiful hamlet of VVoodburn, is an ancient Roman station, formerly called Habi- tancum. Camden says, that in his time the popular account bore that it had been the abode of a deity, or giant, called Magon; and appeals, in support of this tradition, as well as to the ety- mology of Risingham, or Reisenham, which signifies, in German, the habitation of the giants, to two Roman altars taken out of the river, inscribed, Deo Mogonti Cadenorum. About half a mile distant from Risingham, upon an eminence covered with scattered birch-trees and fragments of rock, there is cut upon a large rock, in alto relievo, a remarkable figure, called Robin of Risingham, or Robin of Reedsdale. It presents a hunter, with his bow raised in one hand, and in the other what seems to be a hare. There is a quiver at the back of the figure, and he is dressed in a long coat, or kirtle, coming down to the knees, and meeting close, with a girdle bound round him. Dr. Horseley, who saw all monuments of antiquity with Roman eyes, inclines to think this figure a Roman archer: and certainly the bow is rather of the ancient size than of that which was so formidable in the hand of the English archers of the Middle Ages. But the rudeness of the whole figure prevents our founding strongly upon mere inaccuracy of proportion. The popular tradition is, that it represents a giant, whose brother resided at Woodburn, and he himself at Risingham. It adds, that they subsisted by hunting, and that one of them, finding the game become too 439 NOTES scarce to support them, poisoned his companion, in whose memory the monument was engraved. What strange and tragic circumstance may be concealed under this legend, or whether it is utterly apocryphal, it is now impossible to dis- cover. The name of Robin of Redesdale was given to one of the Umfravilles, Lords of Prudhoe, and afterwards to one Hillard, a friend and follower of the king-making Earl of Warwick. This person commanded an army of Northamptonshire and northern men, who seized on and beheaded the Earl Rivers, father to Edward the Fourth's queen, and his son, Sir John Woodville. (See Holinshed, ad annum, 1469.) Note 10, p. 31 The 'statutes of the bucaniers' were, in reality, more equitable than could have been expected from the state of society under which they had been formed. They chiefly related, as may readily be conjectured, to the distribution and the inheritance of their plunder. When the expedition was completed, the fund of prize-money acquired was thrown together, each party taking his oath that he had retained or concealed no part of the common stock. If any one transgressed in this important particular, the punish- ment was, his being set ashore on some desert key or island, to shift for himself as he could. The owners of the vessel had then their share assigned for the expenses of the outfit. These were generally old pirates, settled at Tobago, Jamaica, St. Domingo, or some other French and English settlement. The surgeon's and carpenter's salaries, with the price of provisions and ammu- nition, were also defrayed. Then followed the compensation due to the maimed and wounded, rated according to the damage they had sustained; as six hundred pieces of eight, or six slaves, for the loss of an arm or leg, and so in proportion. 'After this act of justice and humanity, the remainder of the booty was divided into as many shares as there were Bucaniers, 440 NOTES The commander could only lay claim to a single share, as the rest; but they complimented him with two or three, in propor- tion as he had acquitted himself to their satisfaction. When the vessel was not the property of the whole company, the person who had fitted it out, and furnished it with necessary arms and ammunition, was entitled to a third of all the prizes. Favour had never any influence in the division of the booty, for every share was determined by lot. Instances of such rigid justice as this are not easily met with, and they extended even to the dead. Their share was gi\en to the man who was known to be their companion when ali\"e, and therefore their heir. If the person who had been killed had no intimate, his part was sent to his relations, when they were known. If there were no friends nor relations, it was distributed in charity to the poor and to churches, which were to pray for the person in whose name these benefactions were given, the fruits of inhuman, but necessary piratical plunders.' (Raynal's History of European Settlements in the East and West Indies, by Justamond, London, 1776, 8vo, iii, 41.) Note ii, p. 46 The view from Barnard Castle commands the rich and mag- nificent valley of Tees. Immediately adjacent to the river, the banks are very thickly wooded ; at a little distance they are more open and cultivated; but, being interspersed with hedgerows, and with isolated trees of great size and age, they still retain the richness of woodland scenery. The river itself flows in a deep trench of solid rock, chiefly limestone and marble. The finest view of its romantic course is from a handsome modern-built bridge over the Tees, by the late Mr. Morritt of Rokeby. In Leland's time, the marble quarries seem to have been of some value. 'Hard under the cliff by Egleston, is found on eche side of Tese very fair marble, wont to be taken up booth by marbelers of Barnardes Castelle and of Egleston, and partly to have been wrought by them, and partly sold onwrought to others.' {Itiner- ary, Oxford, 1768, Bvo, p. 88.) 441 NOTES Note 12, p. 48 The ruins of this abbey, or priory (for Tanner calls it the former, and Leland the latter), are beautifully situated upon the angle formed by a little dell called Thorsgill, at its junction with the Tees. A good part of the religious house is still in some degree habitable, but the church is in ruins. Eglistone was dedicated to St. Mary and St. John the Baptist, and is supposed to have been founded by Ralph de Multon about the end of Henry II's reign. There were formerly the tombs of the families of Rokeby, Bowes, and Fitz-Hugh. Note 13, p. 49 Close behind the George Inn at Greta Bridge, there is a well- preserved Roman encampment, surrounded with a triple ditch, lying between the river Greta and a brook called the Tutta. The four entrances are easily to be discerned. Very many Roman altars and monuments have been found in the vicinity, most of which are preserved at Rokeby by my friend Mr. Morritt. Among others is a small votive altar, with the inscription, LEG. VI. VIC. P. F. F., which has been rendered, Legio. Sexia. Victrix. Pia. Fortis. Fidelis. Note 14, p. 49 This ancient manor long gave name to a family by whom it is said to have been possessed from the Conquest downward, and who are at different times distinguished in history. It was the Baron of Rokeby who finally defeated the insurrection of the Earl of Northumberland, tempore Hen. IV, of which Holinshed gives the following account: — 'The King, advertised hereof, caused a great armie to be assembled, and came forward with the same towards his ene- mies: but yer the King came to Nottingham, Sir Thomas or (as other copies haue) Sir Rafe Rokesbie, Shiriffe of Yorkeshire, assembled the forces of the countrie to resist the Earle and his 442 NOTES power; coming to Grimbautbrigs, beside Knaresborough, there to stop them the passage; but they returning aside, got to VVeatherbie, and so to Tadcaster, and finally came forward unto Bramham-moor, near to Haizlewood, where they chose their ground meet to fight upon. The Shiriffe was as readie to giue battell as the Erie to receiue it; and so with a standard of S. George spread, set fiercelie vpon the Earle, who, vnder a stand- ard of his own armes, encountered his aduersaries with great manhood. There was a sore incounter and cruell conflict betwixt the parties, but in the end the victorie fell to the Shiriffe. The Lord Bardolfe was taken, but sore wounded, so that he shortlie after died of the hurts. As for the Earle of Northum- berland, he was slain outright; so that now the prophecy was fulfilled, which gaue an inkling of this his heauy hap long before, namelie, — Stiips Persitina periet confusa ruina. For this Earle was the stocke and maine root of all that were left aliue, called by the name of Persie; and of manie more by diuers slaughters dispatched. For whose misfortune the people were not a little sorrie, making report of the gentleman's valiant- nesse, renowne, and honour, and applieing vnto him certeine lamentable verses out of Lucaine, saieng, — Sed nos nee sanguis, nee tantum vulnera nostri Afifecere senis: quantum gestata per urbem Ora duels, quae transfixo deformia pilo Vidimus. For his head, full of siluer horie haires, being put upon a stake, was openlie carried through London, and set vpon the bridge of the same citie: in like manner was the Lord Bardolfes.' (Holin- shed's Chronicles, London, 1808, 4to, iii, 45.) The Rokeby, or Rokesby, family continued to be distinguished until the great Civil War, when, having embraced the cause of Charles I, they suffered severely by fines and confiscations. The estate then passed from its ancient possessors to the family of the Robinsons, from whom it was purchased by the father of my valued friend, the present proprietor. 443 NOTES Note 15, p. 50 What follows is an attempt to describe the romantic glen, or rather ravine, through which the Greta finds a passage between Rokeby and Mortham; the former situated upon the left bank of Greta, the latter on the right bank, about half a mile nearer to its junction with the Tees. The river runs with very great rapidity over a bed of solid rock, broken by many shelving descents, down which the stream dashes with great noise and impetuosity, vindicating its etymology, which has been derived from the Gothic, Gridan, to clamour. The banks partake of the same wild and romantic character, being chiefly lofty cliffs of limestone rock, whose grey colour contrasts admirably with the various trees and shrubs which find root among their crevices, as well as with the hue of the ivy, which clings around them in profusion, and hangs down from their projections in long sweep- ing tendrils. At other points the rocks give place to precipitous banks of earth, bearing large trees intermixed with copsewood. In one spot the dell, which is elsewhere very narrow, widens for a space to leave room for a dark grove of yew-trees, intermixed here and there with aged pines of uncommon size. Directly opposite to this sombre thicket, the cliffs on the other side of the Greta are tall, white, and fringed with all kinds of deciduous shrubs. The whole scenery of this spot is so much adapted to the ideas of superstition, that it has acquired the name of Blockula, from the place where the Swedish witches were sup- posed to hold their Sabbath. The dell, however, has supersti- tions of its own growth, for it is supposed to be haunted by a female spectre, called the Dobie of Mortham. The cause assigned for her appearance is a lady's having been whilom murdered in the wood, in evidence of which, her blood is shown upon the stairs of the old tower at Mortham. But whether she was slain by a jealous husband, or by savage banditti, or by an uncle who coveted her estate, or by a rejected lover, are points upon which the traditions of Rokeby do not enable us to decide. 444 NOTES Note i6, p. 55 'Also I shall shew very briefly what force conjurers and witches have in constraining the elements enchanted by them or others, that they may exceed or fall short of their natural order: premising this, that the extream land of North Finland and Lap- land was so taught witchcraft formerely in heathenish times, as if they had learned this cursed art from Zoroastres the Persian; though other inhabitants by the sea-coasts are reported to be bewitched with the same madness; for they exercise this divelish art, of all the arts of the world, to admiration; and in this, or other such like mischief, they commonly agree. The Finland- ers were wont formerly, amongst their other errors of gentilisme, to sell winds to merchants that were stopt on their coasts by contrary' weather; and when they had their price, they knit three magical knots, not like to the laws of Cassius, bound up with a thong, and they gave them unto the merchants; observing that rule, that when they unloosed the first, they should have a good gale of wind; when the second, a stronger wind; but when they untied the third, they should have such cruel tempests, that they should not be able to look out of the forecastle to avoid the rocks, nor move a foot to pull down the sails, nor stand at the helm to govern the ship; and they made an unhappy trial of the truth of it who denied that there was any such power in those knots.* (Olaus Magnus's History of the Goths, Swedes, and Vandals, London, 1658, fol. p. 7.) Note 17, p. 55 That this is a general superstition, is well known to all who have been on shipboard, or who have conversed with seamen. The most formidable whistler that I remember to have met with was the apparition of a certain Mrs. Leakey, who, about 1636, resided, we are told, at Mynehead, in Somerset, where her only son drove a considerable trade between that port and Waterford, and was owner of several vessels. This old gentle- woman was of a social disposition, and so acceptable to her friends, that they used to say to her and to each other, it were 445 NOTES pity such an excellent good-natured old lady should die; to which she was wont to reply, that whatever pleasure they might find in her company just now, they would not greatly like to see or converse with her after death, which nevertheless she was apt to think might happen. Accordingly, after her death and funeral, she began to appear to various persons by night and by noonday, in her own house, in the town and fields, at sea and upon shore. So far had she departed from her former urbanity, that she is recorded to have kicked a doctor of medicine for his impolite negligence in omitting to hand her over a stile. It was also her humour to appear upon the quay, and call for a boat. But especially so soon as any of her son's ships approached the harbour, * this ghost would appear in the same garb and likeness as when she was alive, and, standing at the mainmast, would blow with a whistle, and though it were never so great a calm, yet immediately there would arise a most dreadful storm, that would break, wreck, and drown ship and goods.' When she had thus proceeded until her son had neither credit to freight a vessel, nor could have procured men to sail it, she began to attack the persons of his family, and actually strangled their only child in the cradle. The rest of her story, showing how the spectre looked over the shoulder of her daughter-in-law while dressing her hair at a looking-glass, and how Mrs. Leakey the younger took courage to address her, and how the beldam despatched her to an Irish prelate, famous for his crimes and misfortunes, to exhort him to repentance, and to apprize him that otherwise he would be hanged, and how the bishop was satisfied with replying, that if he was born to be hanged, he should not be drowned ; — all these, with many more particu- lars, may be found at the end of one of John Dunton's publica- tions, called Athenianism (London, 1 710), where the tale is engrossed under the title of The Apparition Evidence. Note 18, p. 55 'This Ericus, King of Sweden, in his time was held second to none in the magical art; and he was so familiar with the evil 446 [NOTES spirits, which he exceedingly adored, that which way soever he turned his cap, the wind would presently blow that way. From this occasion he was called Windy Cap ; and many men believed that Regnerus, King of Denmark, by the conduct of this Ericus, who was his nephew, did happily extend his piracy into the most remote parts of the earth, and conquered many countries and fenced cities by his cunning, and at last was his coadjutor; that by the consent of the nobles he should be chosen King of Sweden, which continued a long time with him very happily, until he died of old age.' (Olaus, ut supra, p. 45.) Note 19, p. 55 This is an allusion to a well-known nautical superstition con- cerning a fantastic vessel, called by sailors the Flying Dutch- man, and supposed to be seen about the latitude of the Cape of Good Hope. She is distinguished from earthly vessels by bear- ing a press of sail when all others are unable, from stress of weather, to show an inch of canvass. The cause of her wander- ing is not altogether certain; but the general account is, that she was originally a vessel loaded with great wealth, on board of which some horrid act of murder and piracy had been com- mitted; that the plague broke out among the wicked crew who had perpetrated the crime, and that they sailed in vain from port to port, offering, as the price of shelter, the whole of their ill- gotten wealth; that they were excluded from every harbour for fear of the contagion which was devouring them; and that, as a punishment of their crimes, the apparition of the ship still continues to haunt those seas in which the catastrophe took place, and is considered by the mariners as the worst of all possible omens. My late lamented friend. Dr. John Leyden, has introduced this phenomenon into his Scenes of Infancy, imputing, with poetical ingenuity, the dreadful judgment to the first ship which com- menced the slave trade : — Stout was the ship, from Benin's palmy shore That first the weight of barter'd captives bore; 447 m NOTES Bedimm'd with blood, the sun with shrinking beams Beheld her bounding o'er the ocean streams; But, ere the moon her silver horns had rear'd. Amid the crew the specified plague appear'd. Faint and despairing on their watery bier, To every friendly shore the sailors steer; Repell'd from port to port, they sue in vain. And track with slow unsteady sail the main. Where ne'er the bright and buoyant wave is seen To streak with wandering foam the sea-weeds green. Towers the tall mast a lone and leafless tree. Till self-impell'd amid the waveless sea; Where summer breezes ne'er were heard to sing. Nor hovering snow-birds spread the downy wing, Fix'd as a rock amid the boundless plain, The yellow stream pollutes the stagnant main. Till far through night the funeral flames aspire. As the red lightning smites the ghastly pyre. Still doom'd by fate on weltering billows roU'd, Along the deep their restless course to hold. Scenting the storm, the shadowy sailors guide The prow with sails opposed to wind and tide; The Spectre Ship, in livid glimpsing light. Glares baleful on the shuddering watch at night, Unblest of God and man! — Till time shall end, Its view strange horror to the storm shall lend. Note 20, p. 56 What contributed much to the security of the Bucaniers about the Windward Islands was the great number of little islets called in that country 'keys.' These are small sandy patches, appearing just above the surface of the ocean, covered only with a few bushes and weeds, but sometimes affording springs of water, and, in general, much frequented by turtle. Such little uninhabited spots afforded the pirates good harbours, either for refitting or for the purpose of ambush; they were occa- sionally the hiding-place of their treasure, and often afforded a shelter to themselves. As many of the atrocities which they practised on their prisoners were committed in such spots, there are some of these keys which even now have an indifferent reputation among seamen, and where they are with difficulty prevailed on to remain ashore at night, on account of the vision- ary terrors incident to places which have been thus contamin- ated. 448 NOTES Note 21, p. 6o The castle of Mortham, which Leland terms ' Mr. Rokesby's Place, in ripa citer, scant a quarter of a mile from Greta Bridge, and not a quarter of a mile beneath into Tees,' is a picturesque tower, surrounded by buildings of different ages, now converted into a farmhouse and offices. The battlements of the tower itself are singularly elegant, the architect having broken them at regular intervals into different heights; while those at the corners of the tower project into octangular turrets. They are also from space to space covered with stones laid across them, as in modern embrasures, the whole forming an uncommon and beautiful effect. The surrounding buildings are of a less happy form, being pointed into high and steep roofs. A wall, with embrasures, encloses the southern front, where a low portal arch affords an entry to what was the castle-court. At some distance is most happily placed, between the stems of two magnificent elms, the monument alluded to in the text. It is said to have been brought from the ruins of Eglistone Priory, and, from the armoury with which it is richly carved, appears to have been a tomb of the Fitz-Hughs. The situation of Mortham is eminently beautiful, occupying a high bank, at the bottom of which the Greta winds out of the dark, narrow, and romantic dell, which the text has attempted to describe, and flows onward through a more open valley to meet the Tees about a quarter of a mile from the castle. Mort- ham is surrounded by old trees, happily and widely grouped with Mr. Morritt's new plantations. Note 22, p. 62 If time did not permit the Bucaniers to lavish away their plunder in their usual debaucheries, they were wont to hide it, with many superstitious solemnities, in the desert islands and keys which they frequented, and where much treasure, whose lawless owners perished without reclaiming it, is still supposed to be concealed. The most cruel of mankind are often the most 49 449 NOTES superstitious; and these pirates are said to have had recourse to a horrid ritual, in order to secure an unearthly guardian to their treasures. They killed a Negro or Spaniard, and buried him with the treasure, believing that his spirit would haunt the spot, and terrify away all intruders. I cannot produce any other authority on which this custom is ascribed to them than that of maritime tradition, which is, however, amply sufificient for the purposes of poetry. Note 23, p. 63 All who are conversant with the administration of criminal justice, must remember many occasions in which malefactors appear to have conducted themselves with a species of infatua- tion, either by making unnecessary confidences respecting their guilt, or by sudden and involuntary allusions to circumstances by which it could not fail to be exposed. A remarkable instance occurred in the celebrated case of Eugene Aram. A skeleton being found near Knaresborough, was supposed, by the persons who gathered around the spot, to be the remains of one Clarke, who had disappeared some years before, under circumstances leading to a suspicion of his having been murdered. One Houseman, who had mingled in the crowd, suddenly said, while looking at the skeleton, and hearing the opinion which was buzzed around, 'That is no more Dan Clarke's bone than it is mine!' — a sentiment expressed so positively, and with such peculiarity of manner, as to lead all who heard him to infer that he must necessarily know where the real body had been interred. Accordingly, being apprehended, he confessed having assisted Eugene Aram to murder Clarke, and to hide his body in Saint Robert's Cave. It happened to the author himself, while con- versing with a person accused of an atrocious crime, for the pur- pose of rendering him professional assistance upon his trial, to hear the prisoner, after the most solemn and reiterated protesta- tions that he was guiltless, suddenly, and, as it were, involun- tarily, in the course of his communications, make such an admission as was altogether incompatible with innocence. 450 NOTES Note 24, p. 71 This tower has been already mentioned. It is situated near the northeastern extremity of the wall which encloses Barnard Castle, and is traditionally said to have been the prison. By an odd Qoincidence, it bears a name which we naturally connect with imprisonment, from its being that of Sir Robert Brackenbury, lieutenant of the Tower of London under Edward IV and Richard III. There is, indeed, some reason to conclude that the tower may actually have derived the name from that family, for Sir Robert Brackenbury himself possessed considerable property not far from Barnard Castle. Note 25, p. 73 After the battle of Marston Moor, the Earl of Newcastle retired beyond sea in disgust, and many of his followers laid down their arms, and made the best composition they could with the Committees of Parliament. Fines were imposed upon them in proportion to their estates and degrees of delinquency, and these fines were often bestowed upon such persons as had deserved well of the Commons. In some circumstances it hap- pened, that the oppressed cavaliers were fain to form family alliances with some powerful person among the triumphant party. The whole of Sir Robert Howard's excellent comedy of The Committee turns upon the plot of Mr. and Mrs. Day to enrich their family, by compelling Arabella, whose estate was under sequestration, to marry their son Abel, as the price by which she was to compound with Parliament for delinquency; that is, for attachment to the royal cause. Note 26, p. 76 The patience, abstinence, and ingenuity exerted by the North American Indians, when in pursuit of plunder or ven- geance, is the most distinguished feature in their character; and the activity and address which they display in their retreat is 451 NOTES equally surprising. Adair, whose absurd hypothesis and turgid style do not affect the general authenticity of his anecdotes, has recorded an instance which seems incredible. 'When the Chickasah nation was engaged in a former war with the Muskohge, one of their young warriors set off against them to revenge the blood of a near relation. . . . He went through the most unfrequented and thick parts of the woods, as such a dangerous enterprise required, till he arrived opposite the great and old-beloved town of refuge, Koosah, which stands high on the eastern side of a bold river, about two hundred and fifty yards broad, that runs by the late dangerous Albehama- Fort, down to the black poisoning Mobille, and so into the Gulf of Mexico. There he concealed himself under cover of the top of a fallen pine-tree, in view of the ford of the old trading path, where the enemy now and then pass the river in their light poplar canoes. All his war-store of provisions consisted in three stands of barbicued venison, till he had an opportunity to revenge blood, and return home. He waited with watchfulness and patience almost three days, when a young man, a woman, and a girl, passed a little wide of him about an hour before sunset. The former he shot down, tomahawked the other two, and scalped each of them in a trice, in full view of the town. By way of bravado, he shaked the scalps before them, sounding the awful death-whoop, and set off along the trading-path, trusting to his heels, while a great many of the enemy ran to their arms and gave chase. Seven miles from thence he entered the great blue ridge of the Apalahche Mountains. About an hour before day he had run over seventy miles of that mountainous tract; then, after sleeping two hours in a sitting posture, leaning his back against a tree, he set off again with fresh speed. As he threw away the venison when he found himself pursued by the enemy, he was obliged to support nature with such herbs, roots, and nuts, as his sharp eyes, with a running glance, directed him to snatch up in his course. Though I often have rode that war- path alone, when delay might have proved dangerous, and with as fine and strong horses as any in America, it took me five days 452 NOTES to ride from the aforesaid Koosah to this sprightly warrior's place in the Chickasah country, the distance of three hundred computed miles; yet he ran it, and got home safe and well at about eleven o'clock of the third day, which was only one day and a half and two nights.' (Adair's History of the American Indians, London, 1775, 4to, p. 395.) Note 27, p. 76 'What manner of cattle-stealers they are that inhabit these valleys in the marches of both kingdoms, John Lesley, a Scotche man himself, and Bishop of Ross, will inform you. They sally out of their own borders in the night, in troops, through unfre- quented by-ways and many intricate windings. All the daytime they refresh themselves and their horses in lurking holes they had pitched upon before, till they arrive in the dark in those places they have a design upon. As soon as they have seized upon the booty, they, in like manner, return home in the night, through blind ways, and fetching many a compass. The more skilful any captain is to pass through those wild deserts, crooked turnings, and deep precipices, in the thickest mists, his reputa- tion is the greater, and he is looked upon as a man of an excellent head. And they are so very cunning, that they seldom have their booty taken from them, unless sometimes when, by the help of bloodhounds following them exactly upon the tract, they may chance to fall into the hands of their adversaries. When being taken, they have so much persuasive eloquence, and so many smooth insinuating words at command, that if they do not move their judges, nay, and even their adversaries (notwithstanding the severity of their natures) to have mercy, yet they incite them to admiration and compassion.' (Camden's Britannia.) The inhabitants of the valleys of Tyne and Reed were, in ancient times, so inordinately addicted to these depredations, that in 1564, the Incorporated Merchant Adventurers of New- castle made a law that none born in these districts should be admitted apprentice. The inhabitants are stated to be so gener- 453 NOTES ally addicted to rapine, that no faith should be reposed in those proceeding from 'such lewde and wicked progenitors.' This regulation continued to stand unrepealed until 1771. A beggar, in an old play, describes himself as 'born in Redesdale, in North- umberland, and come of a wight-riding surname, called the Robsons, good honest men and true, saving a little shifting for their living, God help them !' — a description which would have applied to most Borderers on both sides. Reidswair, famed for a skirmish to which it gives name, is on the very edge of the Carter-Fell, which divides England from Scotland. The Rooken is a place upon Reedwater. Bertram, being described as a native of these dales, where the habits of hostile depredation long survived the union of the crowns, may have been, in some degree, prepared by education for the exer- cise of a similar trade in the wars of the Bucaniers. Note 28, p. 78 After one of the recent battles, in which the Irish rebels were defeated, one of their most active leaders was found in a bog, in which he was immersed up to the shoulders, while his head was concealed by an impending ledge of turf. Being detected and seized, notwithstanding his precaution, he became solicitous to know how his retreat had been discovered. ' I caught,' answered the Sutherland Highlander, by whom he was taken, ' the sparkle of your eye.' Those who are accustomed to mark hares upon their form usually discover them by the same circumstance. Note 29, p. 82 The Campanula Latifolia, grand throatwort, or Canterbury bells, grows in profusion upon the beautiful banks of the river Greta, where it divides the manors of Brignall and Scargill, about three miles above Greta Bridge. Note 30, p. 84 It is agreed, by all the writers upon magic and witchcraft, that revenge was the most common motive for the pretended 454 NOTES compact between Satan and his vassals. The ingenuity of Regi- nald Scot has very happily stated how such an opinion came to root itself, not only in the minds of the public and of the judges, but even in that of the poor wretches themselves who were accused of sorcery, and were often firm believers in their own power and their own guilt, 'One sort of such as are said to be witches, are women which be commonly old, lame, blear-eyed, pale, foul, and full of wrinkles; poor, sullen, superstitious, or papists, or such as know no religion ; in whose drowsie minds the devil hath gotten a fine seat; so as what mischief, mischance, calamity, or slaughter is brought to pass, they are easily perswaded the same is done by themselves, imprinting in their minds an earnest and constant imagination thereof. . . . These go from house to house, and from door to door, for a pot of milk, yest, drink, pottage, or some such relief, without the which they could hardly live; neither obtaining for their service or pains, nor yet by their art, nor yet at the devil's hands (with whom they are said to make a perfect and visible bargain), either beauty, money, promotion, wealth, pleasure, honour, knowledge, learning, or any other benefit whatsoever. 'It falleth out many a time, that neither their necessities nor their expectation is answered or served in those places where they beg or borrow, but rather their lewdness is by their neigh- bours reproved. And farther, in tract of time the witch waxeth odious and tedious to her neighbours, and they again are despised and despited of her; so as sometimes she curseth one, and sometimes another, and that from the master of the house, his wife, children, cattle, etc., to the little pig that lieth in the stie. Thus, in process of time, they have all displeased her, and she hath wished evil luck unto them all; perhaps with curses and imprecations made in form. Doubtless (at length) some of her neighbours die or fall sick, or some of their children are visited with diseases that vex them strangely, as apoplexies, epilepsies, convulsions, hot fevers, worms, etc., which, by igno- rant parents, are supposed to be the vengeance of witches. . . . 455 NOTES 'The witch on the other side, expecting her neighbours' mis- chances, and seeing things sometimes come to pass according to her wishes,- curses, and incantations (for Bodin himself con- fesses, that not above two in a hundred of their witchings or wishings take effect), being called before a justice, by due exam- ination of the circumstances, is driven to see her imprecations and desires, and her neighbours' harms and losses, to concur, and, as it were, to take effect; and so confesseth that she (as a goddess), hath brought such things to pass. Wherein not only she, but the accuser, and also the justice, are foully deceived and abused, as being, through her confession, and other circum- stances, perswaded (to the injury of God's glory) that she hath done, or can do, that which is proper only to God himself,' (Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft, London, 1655, fol. pp. 4, 5.) Note 31, p. 86 The troops of the King, when they first took the field, were as well disciplined as could be expected from circumstances. But as the circumstances of Charles became less favourable, and his funds for regularly paying his forces decreased, habits of military license prevailed among them in greater excess. Lacy the player, who served his master during the Civil War, brought out, after the Restoration, a piece called The Old Troop, in which he seems to have commemorated some real incidents which occurred in his military career. The names of the officers of the Troop sufficiently express their habits. We have Flea- Flint Plunder-Master-General, Captain Ferret-Farm, and Quar- ter-Master Burn-Drop. The officers of the Troop are in league with these worthies, and connive at their plundering the country for a suitable share in the booty. All this was undoubtedly drawn from the life, which Lacy had an opportunity to study. The moral of the whole is comprehended in a rebuke given to the lieutenant, whose disorders in the country are said to preju- dice the King's cause more than his courage in the field could recompense. The piece is by no means void of farcical humour. 456 NOTES Note 32, p. 88 The banks of the Greta, below Rutherford Bridge, abound in seams of greyish slate, which are wrought in some places to a very great depth under ground, thus forming artificial caverns, which, when the seam has been exhausted, are gradually hidden by the underwood which grows in profusion upon the romantic banks of the river. In times of public confusion, they might be well adapted to the purposes of banditti. Note 33, p. 96 There was a short war with Spain in 1625-26, which will be found to agree pretty well with the chronology of the poem. But probably Bertram held an opinion very common among the maritime heroes of the age, that ' there was no peace beyond the Line.' The Spanish guarda-costas were constantly employed in aggressions upon the trade and settlements of the English and French ; and by their own severities, gave room for the system of bucaniering, at first adopted in self-defence and retaliation, and afterwards persevered in from habit and thirst of plunder. Note 34, p. 98 The laws of the Bucaniers, and their successors the Pirates, however severe and equitable, were, like other laws, often set aside by the stronger party. Their quarrels about the division of the spoil fill their history, and they as frequently arose out of mere frolic, or the tyrannical humour of their chiefs. An anec- dote of Teach (called Blackbeard) shews that their habitual in- difference for human life extended to their companions, as well as their enemies and captives. 'One night, drinking in his cabin with Hands, the pilot, and another man, Blackbeard, without any provocation, privately draws out a small pair of pistols, and cocks them under the table. which, being perceived by the man, he withdrew upon deck, 457 NOTES leaving Hands, the pilot, and the captain together. When the pistols were ready, he blew out the candles, and, crossing his hands, discharged them at his company. Hands, the master, was shot through the knee, and lamed for life ; the other pistol did no execution.' (Johnson's History of Pirates, London, 1724, 8vo, I, 38.) Another anecdote of this worthy may be also mentioned. ' The hero of whom we are writing was thoroughly accomplished this way, and some of his frolics of wickedness were so extravagant, as if he aimed at making his men believe he was a devil incarnate ; for, being one day at sea, and a little flushed with drink, "Come," says he, "let us make a hell of our own, and try how long we can bear it." Accordingly, he, with two or three others, went down into the hold, and, closing up all the hatches, filled several pots full of brimstone and other combustible matter, and set it on fire, and so continued till they were almost suffo- cated, when some of the men cried out for air. At length he opened the hatches, not a little pleased that he held out the longest.' {Ibid. 90.) Note 35, p. 100 'Immediately after supper, the huntsman should go to his master's chamber, and if he serve a king, then let him go to the master of the game's chamber, to know in what quarter he determineth to hunt the day following, that he may know his own quarter; that done, he may go to bed, to the end that he may rise the earlier in the morning, according to the time and season, and according to the place where he must hunt: then when he is up and ready, let him drinke a good draught, and fetch his hound to make him breake his fast a little: and let him not forget to fill his bottel with good wine: that done, let him take a little vinegar into the palme of his hand, and put it in the nostrils of his hound, for to make him snuffe, to the end his scent may be the perfecter, then let him go to the wood. . . . When the huntsman perceiveth that it is time to begin to beat, let him put his hound before him, and beat the outsides of springs 458 NOTES or thickets; and if he find an hart or deer that likes him, let him mark well whether it be fresh or not, which he may know as well by the maner of his hounds drawing, as also by the eye. . . . When he hath well considered what maner of hart it may be, and hath marked every thing to judge by, then let him draw till he come to the couert where he is gone to; and let him har- bour him if he can, still marking all his tokens, as well by the slot as by the entries, foyles, or such-like. That done, let him plash or bruse down small twigges, some aloft and some below, as the art requireth, and therewithal!, whilest his hound is hote, let him beat the outsides, and make his ring-walkes twice or thrice about the wood.' {The Noble Art of Venerie or Hunting, London, 1611, 4to, pp. 76, 77.) Note 36, p. 103 The last verse of this song is taken from the fragment of an old Scottish ballad, of which I only recollected two verses when the first edition of Rokehy was published. Mr. Thomas Sheridan kindly pointed out to me an entire copy of this beautiful song, which seems to express the fortunes of some follower of the Stuart family : — It was a' for our rightful king That we left fair Scotland's strand. It was a' for our rightful king That we e'er saw Irish land. My dear, That we e'er saw Irish land. Now all is done that man can do, And all is done in vain! My love! my native land, adieul For I must cross the main. My dear, For I must cross the main. He tum'd him round and right about. All on the Irish shore. He gave his bridle-reins a shake, With, Adieu for evermore, My dear, Adieu for evermore! 459 NOTES The soldier frae the war returns. And the merchant frae the main, But I hae parted wi' my love. And ne'er to meet again, My dear. And ne'er to meet again. When day is gone and night is come. And a' are boun' to sleep, I think on them that 's far awa The lee-lang night, and weep. My dear. The lee-lang night, and weep. Note 37, p. 105 The ruins of Ravensworth Castle stand in the North Riding of Yorkshire, about three miles from the town of Richmond, and adjoining to the waste called the Forest of Arkingarth. It belonged originally to the powerful family of Fitz-Hugh, from whom it passed to the Lords Dacre of the South. Note 38, p. 105 This is a fragment of an old cross, with its pediment, sur- rounded by an intrenchment, upon the very summit of the waste ridge of Stanmore, near a small house of entertainment called the Spittal. It is called Rere-Cross, or Ree-Cross, of which Holinshed gives us the following explanation: — 'At length a peace was concluded betwixt the two kings vnder these conditions, that Malcome should enjoy that part ot Northumberland which lieth betwixt Tweed, Cumberland, and Stainmore, and doo homage to the Kinge of England for the same. In the midst of Stainmore there shall be a crosse set up, with the Kinge of England's image on the one side, and the Kinge of Scotland's on the other, to signifie that one is march to England, and the other to Scotland. This crosse was called the Roi-crosse, that is, the cross of the Kinge.' (Holinshed, Chronicles, London, 1808, 4to, v, 280.) Holinshed's sole authority seems to have been Boethius. But it is not improbable that his account may be the true one, 460 NOTES although the circumstance does not occur in Wintoun's Chronicle. The situation of the cross, and the pains taken to defend it, seem to indicate that it was intended for a landmark of importance. Note 39, p. 106 The duty of the ranger, or pricker, was first to lodge, or harbour the deer; i.e., to discover his retreat, as described at length in Note 35, p. 458, and then to make his report to his prince or master : — Before the King I come report to make. Then husht and peace for noble Tristrame's sake . . . My liege, I went this morning on my quest. My hound did stick, and seera'd to vent some beast. I held him short, and drawing after him, I might behold the hart was feeding tryra; His head was high, and large in each degree. Well paulmed eke, and seem'd full sound to be. Of colour browne, he beareth eight and tenne, Of stately height, and long he seemed then. His beam seem'd great, in good proportion led. Well barred and round, well pearled neare his head. He seemed fayre tweene blacke and berrie brounde, He seemes well fed by all the signes I found. For when I had well marked him with eye, I stept aside, to watch where he would lye. And when I had so wayted full an houre. That he might be at layre and in his boure, I cast about to harbour him full sure; My hound by sent did me thereof assure . . . Then if he ask what slot or view I found, I say the slot or view was long on ground; The toes were great, the joynt bones round and short. The shinne bones large, the dew-claws close in port: Short ioynted was he, hollow-footed eke. An hart to hunt as any man can seeke. The Art of Verier ie, ut supra, p. 97. Note 40, p. 108 About the year of God 866, the Danes, under their celebrated leaders Inguar (more properly Agnar) and Hubba, sons, it is said, of the still more celebrated Regnar Lodbrog, invaded Northumberland, bringing with them the magical standard, so often mentioned in poetry, called Reafen, or Rumfan, from its bearing the figure of a raven : — 461 I NOTES i Wrought by the sisters of the Danish king. Of furious Ivar in a midnight hour: While the sick moon, at their enchanted song Wrapt in pale tempest, labour'd through the clouds, The demons of destruction then, they say, Were all abroad, and mixing with the woof Their baleful power: The sisters ever sung. Shake, standard, shake this ruin on our foes. Thomson and Mallet's Alfred. The Danes renewed and extended their incursions, and began to colonise, establishing a kind of capital at York, from which they spread their conquests and incursions in every direction. Stanmore, which divides the mountains of Westmoreland and Cumberland, was probably the boundary of the Danish kingdom in that direction. The district to the west, known in ancient British history by the name of Reged, had never been conquered by the Saxons, and continued to maintain a precarious independ- ence until it was ceded to Malcolm, King of Scots, by William the Conqueror, probably on account of its similarity in language and manners to the neighbouring British kingdom of Strath- Clyde. Upon the extent and duration of the Danish sovereignty in Northumberland, the curious may consult the various authori- ties quoted in the Gesta et Vestigia Danorum extra Daniam (ii, 40). The most powerful of their Northumbrian leaders seems to have been Ivar, called, from the extent of his conquests, 'Widfam,' that is, 'The Strider.' Note 41, p. 108 The Tees rises about the skirts of Crossfell, and falls over the cataracts named in the text before it leaves the mountains which divide the North-Riding from Cumberland. High Force is seventy-five feet in height. Note 42, p. 108 The Heathen Danes have left several traces of their religion in the upper part of Teesdale. Balder-garth, which derives its 462 NOTES name from the unfortunate son of Odin, is a tract of waste land on the very ridge of Stanmore; and a brook, which falls into the Tees near Barnard Castle, is named after the same deity. A field upon the banks of the Tees is also termed Woden-Croft, from the supreme deity of the Edda. Thorsgill, of which a description is attempted in stanza ii, is a beautiful little brook and dell, running up behind the ruins of Eglistone Abbey. Thor was the Hercules of the Scandinavian mythology, a dreadful giant-queller, and in that capacity the champion of the gods, and the defender of iAtSgard, the northern Olympus, against the fre- quent attacks of the inhabitants of Jotunhem. There is an old poem in the Edda of Soemund, called the Song of Thrym, which turns upon the loss and recovery of the mace, or hammer, which was Thor's principal weapon, and on which much of his power seems to have depended. It may be read to great advantage in a version equally spirited and literal, among the Miscellaneous Translations and Poems of the Honourable William Herbert. Note 43, p. 113 The O'Neale here meant, for more than one succeeded to the chieftainship during the reign of Elizabeth, was Hugh, the grand- son of Con O'Neale, called Con Bacco, or the Lame. His father, Matthew O'Kelly, was illegitimate, and, being the son of a blacksmith's wife, was usually called Matthew the Blacksmith. His father, nevertheless, destined his succession to him; and he was created, by Elizabeth, Baron of Dungannon. Upon the death of Con Bacco, this Matthew was slain by his brother. Hugh narrowly escaped the same fate, and was protected by the English. Shane O'Neale, his uncle, called Shane Dymas, was succeeded by Turlough Lynogh O'Neale; after whose death Hugh, having assumed the chieftainship, became nearly as formidable to the English as any by whom it had been possessed. He rebelled repeatedly, and as often made submissions, of which it was usually a condition that he should not any longer assume the title of O'Neale; in lieu of which he was created Earl 463 NOTES of Tyrone. But this condition he never observed longer than until the pressure of superior force was withdrawn. His baffling the gallant Earl of Essex in the field, and overreaching him in a treaty, was the induction to that nobleman's tragedy. Lord Mountjoy succeeded in finally subjugating O'Neale; but it was not till the succession of James, to whom he made personal sub- mission, and was received with civility at court. Yet, according to Morrison, 'no respect to him could containe many weomen in those parts, who had lost husbands and children in the Irish warres, from flinging durt and stones at the earle as he passed, and from reuiling him with bitter words; yea, when the earle had been at court, and there obtaining his majestie's direction for his pardon and performance of all conditions promised him by the Lord Mountjoy, was about September to returne, hee durst not pass by those parts without direction to the shiriffes, to convey him, with troopes of horse from place to place, till he was safely imbarked and put to sea for Ireland.* (Itinerary, p. 269.) Note 44, p. 113 The chief victory which Tyrone obtained over the English was in a battle fought near Blackwater, while he besieged a fort garrisoned by the English, which commanded the passes into his country. ' This captain and his few warders did with no less courage suffer hunger, and, having eaten the few horses they had, lived vpon hearbes growing in the ditches and wals, suffering all extremities, till the lord-lieutenant, in the moneth of August, sent Sir Henry Bagnal, marshall of Ireland, with the most choice companies of foote and horse-troopes of the English army to victual this fort, and to raise the rebels' siege. When the English entered the place and thicke woods beyond Armagh, on the east side, Tyrone (with all the rebels assembled to him) pricked for- ward with rage, enuy, and settled rancour against the marshall, assayled the English, and turning his full force against the mar- shall 's person, had the successe to kill him, valiantly fighting 464 NOTES among the thickest oi the rebels. Whereupon the English being dismayed with his death, the rebels obtained a great victory against them. I terme it great, since the English, from their first arriual in that kingdome, neuer had received so great an ouer- throw as this, commonly called the Defeat of Blackewater; thirteene valiant captaines and 1500 common souldiers (whereof many were of the old companies which had serued in Brittany vnder General Norreys) were slain in the field. The yielding of the fort of Blackewater followed this disaster, when the assaulted guard saw no hope of relief; but especially vpon messages sent to Captain Williams from our broken forces, retired to Armagh, professing that all their safety depended vpon his yielding the fort into the hands of Tyrone, without which danger Captaine Williams professed that no want or miserie should have induced him thereunto.' (Fynes Moryson's Itinerary, London, 1617, fol. part II, p. 24.) Tyrone is said to have entertained a personal animosity against the knight-marshal. Sir Henry Bagnal, whom he accused of detaining the letters which he sent to Queen Elizabeth, explana- tory of his conduct, and off'ering terms of submission. The river, called by the English, Blackwater, is termed in Irish, Avon-DufT, which has the same signification. Both names are mentioned by Spenser in his ' Marriage of the Thames and the Medway.' But I understand that his verses relate not to the Blackwater of Ulster, but to a river of the same name in the south of Ireland: — Swift Avon-Duff, which of the Englishmen Is called Blackwater. Note 45, p. 114 Etidox. What is that which you call Tanist and Tanistry? These be names and terms never heard of nor known to us. Iren. It is a custom amongst all the Irish, that presently after the death of one of their chiefe lords or captaines, they doe presently assemble themselves to a place generally appointed and knowne unto them, to choose another in his stead, wher*^ 49 465 NOTES they do nominate and elect, for the most part not the eldest Sonne, nor any of the children of the lord deceased, but the next to him in blood, that is, the eldest and worthiest, as commonly the next brother unto him, if he have any, or the next cousin, or so forth, as any is elder in that kindred or sept ; and then next to them doe they choose the next of the blood to be Tanist, who shall next succeed him in the said captainry, if he live there- unto. Eiidox. Do they not use any ceremony in this election, for all barbarous nations are commonly great observers of cere- monies and superstitious rites? Iren. They use to place him that shall be their captaine upon a stone, always reserved to that purpose, and placed commonly upon a hill. In some of which I have seen formed and engraven a foot, which they say was the measure of their first captaine's foot; whereon hee standing, receives an oath to preserve all the ancient former customes of the countrey inviolable, and to deliver up the succession peaceably to his Tanist, and then hath a wand delivered unto him by some whose proper office that is; after which, descending from the stone, he turneth himself round, thrice forwards and thrice backwards. Eudox. But how is the Tanist chosen? Iren. They say he setteth but one foot upon the stone, and receiveth the like oath that the captaine did. (Spenser's View of the State of Ireland, apud Works, London, 1805, 8vo, viii, 306.) The Tanist, therefore, of O'Neale, was the heir-apparent of his power. This kind of succession appears also to have regu- lated, in very remote times, the succession to the crown of Scot- land. It would have been imprudent, if not impossible, to have asserted a minor's right of succession in those stormy days, when the principles of policy were summed up in my friend Mr. Wordsworth's lines: — the good old rule Sufliceth them; the simple plan. That they should take who have the power. And they should keep who can. 466 NOTES Note 46, p. 115 There is here an attempt to describe the ancient Irish dress, of which a poet of Queen Elizabeth's day has given us the follow- ing particulars: — I marvailde in my mynde, and thereupon did muse. To see a bride of heavenlie hewe an ouglie fere to chuse. This bride it is the soile, the bridegroome is the karne. With writhed glibbes, like wicked sprits, with visage rough and stearne; With sculles upon their poalles, instead of civill cappes; With speares in hand and swordes besydes, to beare off after clappes: With jackettes long and large, which shroud simplicitie. Though spitfull dartes which they do beare importe iniquitie. Their shirtes be very strange, not reaching past the thie: With pleates on pleates thei pleated are as thick as pleates may lye. Whose slea ves hang trailing douae almost unto the shoe; And with a mantell commonlie the Irish karne do goe. Now some amongst the reste do use another weede; A coate I meane, of strange devise, which fancy first did breade. His skirts be very shorte, with pleates set thick about. And Irish trouzes raoe to put their strange protactours out. Derrick's Image of Ireland, apud Somers' Tracts, Edinburgh, 1809, 4to, i, 585' Some curious wooden engravings accompany this poem, from which it would seem, that the ancient Irish dress was (the bon- net excepted) very similar to that of the Scottish Highlanders. The want of a covering on the head was supplied by the mode of plaiting and arranging the hair, which was called the 'glibbe.* These glibbes, according to Spenser, were fit marks for a thief, since, when he wished to disguise himself, he could either cut it off entirely, or so pull it over his eyes as to render it very hard to 467 NOTES recognise him. This, however, is nothing to the reprobation with which the same poet regards that favourite part of the Irish dress, the mantle. 'It is a fit house for an outlaw, a meet bed for a rebel, and an apt cloke for a thief. First, the outlaw being for his many crimes and villanyes banished from the townes and houses of honest men, and wandring in waste places far from danger of law, maketh his mantle his house, and under it covereth himself from the wrath of heaven, from the offence of the earth, and from the sight of men. When it raineth, it is his pent-house; when it bloweth it is his tent; when it freezeth, it is his tabernacle. In summer he can wear it loose, in winter he can wrap it close; at all times he can use it, never heavy, never cumbersome. Like- wise for a rebel it is as serviceable; for in his warre that he maketh (if at least it deserve the name of warre), when he still flyeth from his foe, and lurketh in the thicke woods and straite passages, waiting for advantages, it is his bed, yea, and almost his household stuff. For the wood is his house against all weathers, and his mantle is his couch to sleep in. Therein he wrappeth himself round, and coucheth himself strongly against the gnats, which, in that country, doe more annoy the naked rebels while they keep the woods, and doe more sharply wound them, than all their enemies swords or speares, which can seldom come nigh them : yea, and oftentimes their mantle serveth them when they are neere driven, being wrapped about their left arme, instead of a target, for it is hard to cut through with a sword; besides, it is light to beare, light to throw away, and being (as they commonly are) naked, it is to them all in all. Lastly, for a thiefe it is so handsome as it may seem it was first invented for him; for under it he may cleanly convey any fit pillage that cometh handsomely in his way, and when he goeth abroad in the night in freebooting, it is his best and surest friend; for lying, as they often do, two or three nights together abroad to watch for their booty, with that they can prettily shroud themselves under a bush or bankside till they may conveniently do their errand; and when all is over, he can in his mantle passe through any 468 NOTES town or company, being close-hooded over his head, as he useth, from knowledge of any to whom he is indangered. Besides 'tis, he or any man els that is disposed to mischief or villany, may, under his mantle, goe privily armed without suspicion of any, carry his head-piece, his skean, or pistol, if he please, to be always in readiness.' (Spenser's View of the State of Ireland, apud Works, ut supra, viii, 367.) The javelins, or darts, of the Irish, which they threw it with great dexterity, appear, from one of the prints already men- tioned, to have been about four feet long, with a strong steel head and thick knotted shaft. Note 47, p. 116 The Irish chiefs, in their intercourse with the English, and with each other, were wont to assume the language and style of independent royalty. Morrison has preserved a summons from Tyrone to a neighbouring chieftain, which runs in the following terms : — 'O'Neale commendeth him unto you, Morish Fitz-Thomas; O'Neale requesteth you, in God's name, to take part with him, and fight for your conscience and right; and in so doing, O'Neale will spend to sea you righted in all your affaires, and will help you. And if you come not at O'Xeale betwixt this and to-morrow at twelve of the clocke and take his part, O'Neale is not behold- ing to you, and will doe to the uttermost of his power to over- throw you, if you come not to him at furthest by Satturday noone. From Knocke Dumayne in Calrie, the fourth of February, 1599. 'O'Neale requesteth you to come speake with him, and doth giue you his word that you shall receive no harme neither in comming nor going from him, whether you be friend or not, and bring with you to O'Neale Gerat Fitzgerald. (Subscribed) 'O'Neale.' Nor did the royalty of O'Neale consist in words alone. Sir John Harrington paid him a visit at the time of his truce with 469 NOTES Essex, and after mentioning his 'fern table, and fern forms, spread under the stately canopy of heaven,' he notices what constitutes the real power of every monarch, the love, namely, and allegiance of his subjects. 'His guards, for the most part, were beardless boys without shirts; who in the frost wade as familiarly through rivers as water-spaniels. With what charm such a master makes them love him, I know not; but if he bid come, they come; if go, they do go; if he say do this, they do it. ' {NugCB AnliqucB, London, 1784, 8vo, I, 251.) Note 48, p. 118 There was no tie more sacred among the Irish than that which connected the foster-father, as well as the nurse herself, with the child they brought up. ' Foster-fathers spend much more time, money, and affection on their foster-children than their own; and in return take from them clothes, money for their several professions, and arms, and even for any vicious purposes, fortunes and cattle, not so much by a claim of right as by extortion ; and they will even carry those things off as plunder. All who have been nursed by the same person preserve a greater mutual affection and confidence in each other than if they were natural brothers, whom they will even hate for the sake of these. When chid by their parents, they fly to their foster-fathers, who frequently encourage them to make open war on their parents, train them up to every excess of wickedness, and make them most abandoned miscre- ants, as, on the other hand, the nurses make the young women, whom they bring up for every excess. If a foster-child is sick, it is incredible how soon the nurses hear of it, however distant, and with what solicitude they attend it by day and night.' {Giraldus Cambrensis, quoted by Camden, iv, 368.) This custom, like many other Irish usages, prevailed till of late in the Scottish Highlands, and was cherished by the chiefs as an easy mode of extending their influence and connexion; and even in the Lowlands, during the last century, the con- 470 NOTES nexion between the nurse and foster-child was seldom dissolved but by the death of one party. Note 49, p. 122 Neal Naighvallach, or of the Nine Hostages, is said to have been monarch of all Ireland, during the end of the fourth or beginning of the fifth century. He exercised a predatory warfare on the coast of England and of Bretagne, or Armorica; and from the latter country brought off the celebrated Saint Patrick, a youth of sixteen, among other captives, whom he transported to Ireland. Neal derived his epithet from nine nations, or tribes, whom he held under his subjection, and from whom he took hostages. From one of Neal's sons were derived the Kineleoguin, or Race of Tyrone, which afforded monarchs both to Ireland and to Ulster. Neal (according to O'Flaherty's Ogygia) was killed by a poisoned arrow, in one of his descents on the coast of Bretagne. Note 50, p. 122 This Shane-Dymas, or John the Wanton, held the title and power of O'Neale in the earlier part of Elizabeth's reign, against whom he rebelled repeatedly. 'This chieftain is handed down to us as the most proud and profligate man on earth. He was immoderately addicted to women and wine. He is said to have had two hundred tons of wine at once in his cellar at Dandram, but usquebaugh was his favourite liquor. He spared neither age nor condition of the fair sex. Altho' so illiterate that he could not write, he was not desti- tute of address; his understanding was strong, and his courage daring. He had six hundred men for his guard; four thousand foot, one thousand horse for the field. He claimed superiority over all the lords of Ulster, and called himself king thereof. When commissioners were sent to treat with him, he said, "That, tho' the Queen were his sovereign lady, he never made peace with her but at her lodging; that she had made a wise Earl of 471 NOTES Macartymore, but that he kept as good a man as he: that he cared not for so mean a title as Earl ; that his blood and power were better than the best ; that his ancestors were Kings of Ulster ; and that he would give place to none." His kinsman, the Earl of Kildare, having persuaded him of the folly of contending with the crown of England, he resolved to attend the Queen, but in a style suited to his princely dignity. He appeared in London with a magnificent train of Irish Galloglasses, arrayed in the richest habiliments of their country, their heads bare, their hair flowing on their shoulders, with their long and open sleeves dyed with saffron. Thus dressed and surcharged with military harness, and armed with battle-axes, they afforded an astonishing spectacle to the citizens, who regarded them as the intruders of some very distant part of the globe. But at Court his versatility now prevailed; his title to the sovereignty of Tyrone was pleaded from English laws and Irish institutions, and his allegations were so specious, that the Queen dismissed him with presents and assurances of favour. In England this transaction was looked on as the humiliation of a repenting rebel ; in Tyrone it was considered as a treaty of peace between two potentates.* (Camden's Brittania, by Gough, London, 1806, fol. IV, 442.) When reduced to extremity by the English, and forsaken by his allies, this Shane-Dymas fled to Clandeboy, then occupied by a colony of Scottish Highlanders of the family of MacDonell. He was at first courteously received ; but by degrees they began to quarrel about the slaughter of some of their friends whom Shane-Dymas had put to death, and advancing from words to deeds, fell upon him with their broadswords, and cut him to pieces. After his death a law was made that none should presume to take the name and title of O'Neale. Note 51, p. 122 The O'Neales were closely allied with this powerful and war- like family; for Henry Owen O'Neale married the daughter of 472 NOTES Thomas, Earl of Kildare, and their son Con-More married his cousin-german, a daughter of Gerald, Earl of Kildare. This Con-More cursed any of his posterity who should learn the English language, sow corn, or build houses, so as to invite the English to settle in their country. Others ascribe this anathema to his son Con-Bacco. Fearflatha O'Gnive, bard to the O'Neales of Clannaboy, complains in the same spirit of the towers and ramparts with which the strangers had disfigured the fair sport- ing fields of Erin. (See Walker's Irish Bards, p. 140.) Note 52, p. 123 Lacy informs us, in the old play already quoted, how the cavalry raised by the country gentlemen for Charles's service were usually officered. 'You, cornet, have a name that's proper for all cornets to be called by, for they are all beardless boys in our army. The most part of our horse were raised thus: The honest country gentleman raises the troop at his own charge; then he gets a Low-country lieutenant to fight his troop safely; then he sends for his son from school to be his cornet; and then he puts off his child's coat to put on a buff-coat: and this is the constitution of our army.' Note 53, p. 123 Originally the order of chivalr>' embraced three ranks: (i) the page; (2) the squire; (3) the knight; — a gradation which seems to have been imitated in the mystery of freemasonry. But, before the reign of Charles I the custom of serving as a squire had fallen into disuse, though the order of the page was still, to a certain degree, in observance. This state of servitude was so far from inferring anything degrading, that it was considered as the regular school for acquiring every quality necessary for future distinction. The proper nature, and the decay of the institution, are pointed out by old Ben Jonson, with his own forcible moral colouring. The dialogue occurs between Lovell, 473 NOTES 'a compleat gentleman, a soldier, and a scholar, known to have been page to the old Lord Beaufort, and so to have followed him in the French wars, after companion of his studies, and left guardian to his son,' and the facetious Goodstock, host of the Light Heart. Lovell had offered to take Goodstock's son for his page, which the latter, in reference to the recent abuse of the establishment, declares as 'a desperate course of life': — Lovell, Call you that desperate, which by a line Of institution, from our ancestors. Hath been derived down to us, and received In a succession, for the noblest way Of breeding up our youth, in letters, arms, Fair mien, discourses, civil exercise. And all the blazon of a gentleman? Where can he learn to vault, to ride, to fence, To move his body gracefuUer; to speak His language purer; or to tune his mind. Or manners, more to the harmony of nature, Than in the nurseries of nobility? Hosl. Ay, that was when the nursery's self was noble, And only virtue made it. not the market. That titles were not vented at the drum, Or common outcry. Goodness gave the greatness, And greatness worship: every house became An academy of honour; and those parts We see departed, in the practice, now. Quite from the institution. Lovell. Why do you say so? Or think so enviously? Do they not still Learn there the Centaur's skill, the art of Thrace, To ride? or, Pollux' mystery, to fence? The Pyrrhic gestures, both to dance and spring In armour, to be active in the wars? To study figures, numbers, and proportions. May yield them great in counsels, and the arts .,: Grave Nestor and the wise Ulysses practised? ''f To make their English sweet upon their tongue, ' As reverend Chaucer says? Host. Sir, you mistake; To play Sir Pandarus, my copy hath it. And carry messages to Madame Cressida; Instead of backing the brave steed o' mornings, To court the chambermaid; and for a leap O' the vaulting horse, to ply the vaulting house: For exercise of arms, a bale of dice. Or two or three packs of cards to show the cheat, And nimbleness of hand; mistake a cloak Upon my Lord's back, and pawn it; ease his pocket Of a superfluous watch; or geld a jewel Of an odd stone or so; twinge two or three buttons 474 I 4 NOTES From off my lady's gown: These are the arts Or seven liberal deadly sciences Of pagery, or rather paganism. As the tides run; to which if he apply him. He may perhaps take a degree at Tyburn A year the earlier; come to take a lecture Upon Aquinas at St. Thomas a Watering's, And so go forth a laureat in hemp circle! Ben Jonson's New Inn, Act I, Scene iii. Note 54, p. 143 The ancient castle of Rokeby stood exactly upon the site of the present mansion, by which a part of its walls is enclosed. It is surrounded by a profusion of fine wood, and the park in which it stands is adorned by the junction of the Greta and of the Tees. The title of Baron Rokeby of Armagh was, in 1777, conferred on the Right Reverend Richard Robinson, Primate of Ireland, descended of the Robinsons, formerly of Rokeby, in Yorkshire. Note 55, p. 149 The following brief pedigree of this very ancient and once powerful family, was kindly supplied to the author by Mr. Rokeby, of Northamptonshire, descended of the ancient Barons of Rokeby : — Pedigree of the House of Rokeby 1. Sir Alex. Rokeby, Knt. married to Sir Hump. Liftle's* daughter. 2. Ralph Rokeby, Esq. to Tho. Lumley's daughter, 3. Sir Tho. Rokeby, Knt. to Tho. Hubborn's daughter. 4. Sir Ralph Rokeby, Knt. to Sir Ralph Biggot's daughter. 5. Sir Thos. Rokeby, Knt. to Sir John de IMelsass' daughter of Bennet-hall in Holderness. 6. Ralph Rokeby, Esq. to Sir Brian Stapleton's daughter of Weighill. 7. Sir Thos. Rokeby, Knt. to Sir Ralph Ur>''s daughter. 2 8. Ralph Rokeby, Esq. to daughter of Mansfield, heir of Morton.' ' Lisle. » Temp. Edw. 2di. • Temp. Edw. 3til. 475 NOTES 1 9. Sir Tho. Rokeby, Knt. to Stroode's daughter and heir, 10. Sir Ralph Rokeby, Knt. to Sir Jas. Strangwayes' daughter. _ 11. Sir Thos. Rokeby, Knt. to Sir John Hotham's daughter, ■ 12. Ralph Rokeby, Esq, to Danby of Yafforth's daughter and heir.* 13. Tho, Rokeby, Esq, to Rob, Constable's daughter of Cliff, serjt at law. 14. Christopher Rokeby, Esq. to Lasscells of Brackenburgh's daughter. '^ , \ 15. Thos. Rokeby, Esq, to the daughter of Thweng. 16. Sir Thomas Rokeby, Knt. to Sir Ralph Lawson's daughter of Brough. 17. Frans. Rokeby, Esq. to Faucett's daughter, citizen of Lon- don. 18. Thos. Rokeby, Esq. to the daughter of Wickliffe of Gales. High Sheriffs of Yorkshire 1337. II Edw. 3. Ralph Hastings and Thos. de Rokeby. 1343. 17 Edw. 3. Thos. de Rokeby, pro sept, annis. 1358. 25 Edw. 3. Sir Thomas Rokeby, Justiciary of Ireland for six years; died at the castle of Kilka. 1407. 8 Hen. 4. Thos. Rokeby Miles, defeated and slew the Duke of Northumberland at the Battle of Bramham Moor. 141 1. 12 Hen. 4. Thos. Rokeby Miles. i486 Thomas Rokeby, Esq. 1539 Robert Holgate, Bish. of Landaff, afterwards P. of York, Ld. President of the Council for the Preservation of Peace in the North. 1564. 6 Eliz. Thomas Younge, Archbishop of Yorke, Ld. President. 30 Hen. 8. Tho. Rokeby, LL.D. one of the Council. Jn. Rokeby, LLD. one of the Council. * Temp. Henr. ymi, and from him is the house of Skyers, of a fourth brother. » From him is the house of Hotham, and of the second brother that had issua 476 NOTES 1572. 15 Eliz. Henry Hastings, Earl of Huntingdon, Ld. President. Jo. Rokeby, Esq. one of the Council. Jo. Rokeby, LLD. ditto. Ralph Rokeby, Esq. one of the Secretaries. 1574. 17 Eliz. Jo. Rokeby, Precentor of York. 7 Will. 3. Sir J. Rokeby, Knt. one of the Justices of the King's Bench. 'The family of De Rokeby came over with the Conqueror. 'The old motto belonging to the family is In Bivio Dextra. 'The arms, argent, chevron sable, between three rooks proper. 'There is somewhat more to be found in our family in the Scottish History about the affairs of Dun-Bretton town, but what it is, and in what time, I know not, nor can have convenient leisure to search. But Parson Blackwood, the Scottish chaplain to the Lord of Shrewsbury, recited to me once a piece of a Scot- tish song, wherein was mentioned, that William Wallis, the great deliverer of the Scots from the English bondage, should, at Dun-Bretton, have been brought up under a Rokeby, captain then of the place; and as he walked on a cliff, should thrust him on a sudden into the sea, and thereby have gotten that hold, which, I think, was about the 33d of Edw. I, or before. Thus, leaving our ancestors of record, we must also with them leave the Chronicle of Malmesbury Abbey, called Eulogium His tori- arum, out of which Mr. Leland reporteth this history, and coppy down unwritten story, the which have yet the testimony of latter times, and the fresh memory of men yet alive, for their warrant and creditt, of whom I haye learned it that in K. Henry the 7th's reign, one Ralph Rokeby, Esq., was owner of Morton, and I guess that this was he that deceived the fryars of Richmond with his felon swine, on which a jargon was made.' The above is a quotation from a manuscript written by Ralph Rokeby; when he lived is uncertain. 477 NOTES '] To what metrical Scottish tradition Parson Blackwood alluded, it would be now in vain to enquire. But in Blind Harry's His- tory of Sir William Wallace, we find a legend of one Rukbie, whom he makes keeper of Stirling Castle under the English usurpation, and whom Wallace slays with his own hand: — In the great press Wallace and Rukbie met, With his good sword a stroke upon him set; Derfly to death the old Rukbie he drave, But his two sons escaped among the lave. These sons, according to the romantic Minstrel, surrendered the castle on conditions, and went back to England, but returned to Scotland in the days of Bruce, when one of them became again keeper of Stirling Castle. Immediately after this achievement follows another engagement, between Wallace and those Western Highlanders who embraced the English interest, at a pass in Glendonchart, where many were precipitated into the lake over a precipice. These circumstances may have been confused in the narrative of Parson Blackwood, or in the recollection of Mr. Rokeby. In the old ballad of Chevy Chase, there is mentioned, among the English warriors, 'Sir Raflf the ryche Rugbe,' which may SHj apply to Sir Ralph Rokeby, the tenth baron in the pedigree. The more modern copy of the ballad runs thus: — Good Sir Ralph Raby ther was slain, Whose prowess did surmount. This would rather seem to relate to one of the Nevilles of Raby. But as the whole ballad is romantic, accuracy is not to be looked for. Note 56, p. 150 The ancient minstrels had a comic as well as a serious strain of romance; and although the examples of the latter are by far the most numerous, they are, perhaps, the less valuable. The comic romance was a sort of parody upon the usual subjects of minstrel poetry. If the latter described deeds of heroic achieve- ment, and the events of the battle, the tourney, and the chase, 478 P NOTES the former, as in the Tournament of Tottenham, introduced a set of clowns debating in the field, with all the assumed circum- stances of chivalry ; or, as in the Hunting of the Hare (see Weber's Metrical Romances, iii), persons of the same description fol- lowing the chase, with all the grievous mistakes and blunders incident to such unpractised sportsmen. The idea, therefore, of Don Quixote's frenzy, although inimitably embodied and brought out, was not, perhaps, in the abstract, altogether origi- nal. One of the very best of these mock romances, and which has no small portion of comic humour, is the Hunting of the Felon Sow of Rokeby by the Friars of Richmond. Ralph Rokeby, who (for the jest's sake apparently) bestowed this intractable animal on the convent of Richmond, seems to have flourished in the time of Henry VII, which, since we know not the date of Friar Theobald's wardenship, to which the poem refers us, may indi- cate that of the composition itself. Morton, the Mortham of the text, is mentioned as being this facetious baron's place of resi- dence: accordingly, Leland notices, that 'Mr. Rokeby hath a place called Mortham, a little beneath Grentey-Bridge, almost on the mouth of Grentey.' That no information may be lacking which is in my power to supply, I have to notice, that the Mis- tress Rokeby of the romance, who so charitably refreshed the sow after she had discomfited Friar Middleton and his auxilia- ries, was, as appears from the pedigree of the Rokeby family, daughter and heir of Danby of Yafforth. This curious poem was first published in Mr. Whitaker's His- tory of Craven, but from an inaccurate manuscript, not corrected very happily. It was transferred by Mr. Evans to the new edi- tion of his Ballads, with some well-judged conjectural improve- ments. I have been induced to give a more authentic and full, though still an imperfect, edition of this humorous composition, from being furnished with a copy from a manuscript in the pos- session of Mr. Rokeby, to whom I have acknowledged my obli- gations in the last Note. It has three or four stanzas more than that of Mr. Whitaker, and the language seems, where they differ, to have the more ancient and genuine readings. 479 NOTES THE FELON SOW OF ROKEBY AND THE FRIARS OF RICHMOND Ye men that will of aunters ' winne, That late within this land hath beene, Of one I will you tell; And of a sew ' that was sea ' Strang, Alas! that ever she lived sea lang, For fell * folk did she whell. « She was mare • than other three. The grisliest beast that ere might be. Her head was great and gray: She was bred in Rokeby wood. There were few that thither goed,' That came on live ' away. Her walk was endlong ' Greta side: ' There was no bren 'o that durst her bide, That was froe '' heaven to hell; Nor never man that had that might. That ever durst come in her sight. Her force it was so fell. Ralph of Rokeby, with good will, The Fryers of Richmond gave her till'* Full well to garre '^ them fare: Fryar Middleton by his name, He was sent to fetch her hame. That rued him sine '* full sare. With him tooke he wicht men two, Peter Dale was one of thoe. That ever was brim as beare; *' And well durst strike with sword and knife. And fight full manly for his life. What time as mister ware." These three men went at God's will. This wicked sew while they came till, Liggan " under a tree; Rugg and rusty was her haire; She raise up with a felon fare,'* To fight against the three. » Both MS. and Mr. Whitaker's copy read ' ancestors,' evidently a corruption of ' aunters,' adventures, as corrected by Mr. Evans. « Sow, according to provincial pronunciation. ' So; Yorkshire dialect. « Fele, many; Sax. ' A corruption of ' quell,' to kill. e More, greater. » Went. » Alive. » Along the side of Greta. " Bam, child, man in general. 11 From. " To. " Make. " Since. >5 Fierce as a bear. Mr. Whitaker's copy reads, perhaps in consequence of mistaking the MS., ' T'other was Bryan of Bear.' 18 Need were. Mr. Whitaker reads ' musters.' " Lying. »8 A fierce countenance or manner. 480 NOTES • Saw. ' Wight, brave 'auncestors.' ' Assaulted. • Dare. She was so grisely for to meete, She rave the earth up with her feete. And bark came fro the tree; When Fryar Middleton her saugh,* Weet ye well he might not laugh, Full earnestly look't hee. These men of aunters that was so wight,' They bound them bauldly ' for to fight, And strike at her full sare: Until a kiln they garred her flee. Wold God send them the victory. They wold ask him noa mare. The sew was in the kiln hole down, As they were on the balke aboon,* For ' hurting of their feet; They were so saulted ' with this sew. That among them was a stalworth stew. The kiln began to reeke. Durst noe man neigh her with his hand, But put a rape ' down with his wand, And haltered her full meete; They hurled her forth against her will. Whiles they came into a hill A little fro the street.' And there she made them such a fray. If they should live to Doomes-day, They tharrow ' it ne'er forgett; She braded '" upon every side. And ran on them gaping full wide, For nothing would she lett." She gave such brades '^ at the band That Peter Dale had in his hand. He might not hold his feet. She chafed them to and fro, The wight men was never soe woe. Their measure was not so meete. She bound her boldly to abide; To Peter Dale she came aside. With many a hideous yell; She gaped soe wide and cried soe hee, The Fryar seid, ' I conjure thee," Thou art a fiend of hell. The Rokeby MS. reads ' incouriters,' and Mr. Whitaker, Boldly. * On the beam above. ' To prevent. ' Rope. 8 VVatling Street. See the .sequel. »« Rushed. » Leave it. " Pulls. *' This line is wanting in Mr. Whitaker's copy, whence it has been conjectured that something is wanting after this stanza, which now there is no occasion to suppose. 49 481 NOTES * Thou art come hither for some traine,* I conjure thee to go agaiae Where thou was wont to dwell.' He sayned ^ him with crosse and creede Took forth a book, began to reade In St. John his gospell. The sew she would not Latin heare, But rudely rushed at the Frear, That blinked all his blee; » And when she would have taken her hold The Fryar leaped as Jesus wold. And bealed him * with a tree. She was as brim » as any beare. For all their raeete to labour there.' To them it was no boote: Upon trees and bushes that by her stood She ranged as she was wood,' And rave them up by roote. He sayd, ' Alas, that I was Frear! And I shall be rugged s in sunder here. Hard is my destiniel Wist » my brethren in this houre. That I was sett in such a stoure," They would pray for me." This wicked beast that wrought this woe, Tooke that rape from the other two. And then they fledd all three; Then fledd away by Watling-street, They had no succour but their feet. It was the more pity. The feild it was both lost and wonne; " The sew went hame, and that full soone. To Morton on the Greene: When Ralph of Rokeby saw the rape,*' He wist " that there had been debate, Whereat the sew had beene. • Evil device. ' Blessed, Fr. ' Lost his colour. < Sheltered himself. ' Fierce. •The MS. reads, ' to labour weere.' The text seems to mean, that all their abour to obtain their intended meat was of no use to them. Mr. Whitaker reads, — She was brim as any boar. And gave a grisly hideous roar, To them it was no boot. Besides the want of connexion between the last line and the two former, the second has a very modern sound, and the reading of the Rokeby MS. with the slight alteration in the text, is much better. ' Mad. 8 Torn, pulled. » Knew. '" Combat, perilous fight. u This stanza, with the two following, and the fragment of a fourth, are not in Mr. Whitaker's edition. " The rope about the sow's neck. " Knew. 482 NOTES He bade them stand out of her way; For she had had a sudden fray, — ' I saw never so keene; Some new things shall we heare Of her and Middleton the Frear, Some battel! hath there beene.' But all that served him for nought, Had they not better succour sought. They were served therefore loe. Then Mistress Rokeby came anon, And for her brought shee meate full soone. The sew came her unto. She gave her meate upon the flower, 1 [Hiatus valde deflendus.] When Fryar Middleton came home, His brethren was full faine ilkone,' And thanked God of his life; He told them all unto the end. How he had foughten with a fiend. And hved through mickle strife. • We gave her battell half a day. And sithen' was fain to fly away. For saving of our life; * And Pater Dale would never blinn, » But as fast as he could rj'n, » Till he came to his wife.' The warden said, ' I am full of woe. That ever ye should be torment so. But wee with you had beene! Had we been there your brethren all. Wee should have garred the warle ' fall, That wrought you all this teyne.' » Fryar Middleton said soon, ' Nay, In faith you would have fled away. When most mister » had been ; You will all speake words at hame, A man would ding'" you every ilk ane. And if it be as I weine.' He look't so griesly all that night. The warden said, • Yon man will fight » This line is almost iUegible. 2 Each one. ' Since then, after that. « The above lines are wanting in Mr. Whitaker's copy. 6 Cease, stop. ' Run. 1 Warlock, or wizard. « Harm. » Need. " Beat. The copy in Mr. Whitaker's History of Craven reads, perhaps better, - The fiend would ding you down ilk one. 483 NOTES If you'say ought but good; Yon guest ' hath grieved him so sare, Hold your tongues and speake noe mare. He looks as he were woode.' The warden waged ' on the morne. Two boldest men that ever were borne, I weine, or ever shall be; The one was Gibbert Griffin's son. Full mickle worship has he wonne. Both by land and sea. The other was a bastard son of Spain, Many a Sarazin hath he slain, His dint' hath gart them die. These two men the battle undertooke, Against the sew, as says the booke. And sealed security, That they should boldly bide and fight; And skomfit her in maine and might, Or therefore should they die. The warden sealed to them againe. And said, ' In feild if ye be slain. This condition make I: • We shall for you pray, sing, and read To doomesday with hearty speede. With all our progeny.' Then the letters well was made. Bands bound with seales brade,< As deedes of armes should be. These men of armes that weere so wight. With armour and with brandes bright. They went this sew to see; She made on them slike a rerd,^ • That for her they were sare afer'd. And almost bound to flee. She came roving them egaine; That saw the bastard son of Spaine, He braded' out his brand: Full spiteously at her he strake, For all the fence that he could make. She gat sword out of hand : And rave in sunder half his shielde. And bare him backward in the fielde. He might not her gainstand. I 'Yon guest,' may be 'yon gesl.' i.e., that adventure: or it may mean 'yon ghaisl,' or apparition, which in old poems is applied sometimes to what is super- naturally hideous. The printed copy reads, ' The beast hath,' etc. J Hired, a Yorkshire phrase. ' Blow. « Broad, large. 6 Such like a roar. • Drew out. 484 NOTES She would have riven his privich geare. But Gilbert with his sword of werre. He strake at her full strong. On her shoulder till she held the swerd; Then was good Gilbert sore afer'd, When the blade brake in throng.* Since in his hands he hath her tane. She tooke him by the shoulder bane,* And held her hold full fast. She strave so stiffly in that stower,' That through all his rich armour The blood came at the last. Then Gilbert grieved was sea sare, That he rave off both hide and haire. The flesh came fro the bone; And with all force he felled her there. And wann her worthily in werre. And band her him alone. And lift her on a horse sea hee. Into two panniers well made of a tre, And to Richmond they did hay; * When they saw her come, They sang merrily Te Deum, The Fryers on that day.' They thanked God and St. Francis, As they had won the best of pris,« And never a man was slain: There did never a man more manly. Knight Marcus, nor yett Sir Gui, Nor Loth of Louthyane.' If ye will any more of this, In the Fr>'ers of Richmond 't is In parchment good and fine; And how Fryar Middleton that was so kend,* At Greta Bridge conjured a fiend In likeness of a swine. It is well known to many a man. That Fryar Theobald was warden than. And this fell in his time; And Christ them bless both farre and neare. All that for solace list this to heare. And him that made the rhime. • In the combat. ' Bone. ' Meeting, battle. « Hie, hasten. ' The MS. reads, mistakenly. ' every day.' ' Price. ' The father of Sir Gawain, in the romance of Arthur and Merlin. The MS. is thus corrupted, — More loth of Louth Ryme. ' Well known, or perhaps kind, well disposed. NOTES Ralph Rokeby with full good will, The Fryers of Richmond he gave her till, This sew to mend their fare; Fryar Middleton by his name. Would needs bring the fat sew hamet That rued him since full sare. Note 57, p. 151 The Filea, or Ollamh Re Dan, was the proper bard, or, as the name literally implies, poet. Each chieftain of distinction had one or more in his service, whose office was usually hereditary. The late ingenious Mr. Cooper Walker has assembled a curious collection of particulars concerning this order of men, in his Historical Memoirs of the Irish Bards. There were itinerant bards of less elevated rank, but all were held in the highest ven- eration. The English, who considered them as chief supporters of the spirit of national independence, were much disposed to proscribe this race of poets, as Edward I is said to have done in Wales. Spenser, while he admits the merit of their wild poetry, as 'savouring of sweet wit and good invention, and sprinkled with some pretty flowers of their natural device,' yet rigorously condemns the whole application of their poetry, as abased to 'the gracing of wickedness and vice.' The household minstrel was admitted even to the feast of the prince whom he served, and sat at the same table. It was one of the customs of which Sir Richard Sewry, to whose charge Richard II committed the instruction of four Irish monarchs in the civilisation of the period, found it most difficult to break his royal disciples, though he had also much ado to subject them to other English rules, and particularly to reconcile them to wear breeches. 'The kyng, my souerevigne lord's entent was, that in maner, countenaunce, and apparell of clothyng, they sholde use according to the man- ner of Englande, for the kynge thought to make them all four knyghtes: they had a fayre house to lodge in, in Duvelyn, and I was charged to abyde styll with them, and not to departe; and so two or three dayes I suffered them to do as they lyst, and sayde nothyng to them, but followed their owne appetytes: 486 « NOTES they wolde sitte at the table, and make countenance nother good nor fayre. Than I thought I shulde cause them to chaunge that maner; they wolde cause their mynstrells, their seruantes, and varieties to sytte with them, and to eate in their owne dyssche, and to drinke of their cuppes; and they shewed me that the usage of their cuntre was good, for they sayd in all thyngs (except their beddes) they were and lyved as comen. So the fourthe day I ordayned other tables to be couered in the hall, after the usage of Englande, and I made these four knyghtes to sytte at the hyghe table, and their mynstrels at another borde, and their seruauntes and varieties at another byneth them, whereof by semynge they were displeased, and beheld each other, and wolde not eate, and sayde, how I wolde take fro them their good usage, wherin they had been norished. Then I answered them, smylyng, to apeace them, that it was not hon- ourable for their estates to do as they dyde before, and that they must leave it, and use the custom of Englande, and that it was the kynge's pleasure they shulde so do, and how he was charged so to order them. When they harde that, they suffred it, bycause they had putte themselfe under the obeysance of the Kynge of England, and parceuered in the same as long as I was with them ; yet they had one use which I knew was well used in their cuntre, and that was, they dyde were no breches; I caused breches of lynen clothe to be made for them. Whyle I was with them I caused them to leaue many rude thynges, as well in clothyng as in other causes. Moche ado I had at the fyrst to cause them to weare gownes of sylke, furred with myneuere and gray; for before these kynges thought themselfe well apparelled whan they had on a mantell. They rode alwayes without saddles and styropes, and with great payne I made them to ride after our usage.' (Lord Berners' Froissart, London, 1812, 4to, 11, 621.) The influence of these bards upon their patrons, and their admitted title to interfere in matters of the weightiest concern, may be also proved from the behaviour of one of them at an interview between Thomas Fitzgerald, son of the Earl of Kildare, then about to renounce the English allegiance, and the Lord 487 NOTES Chancellor Cromer, who made a long and goodly oration to dis- suade him from his purpose. The young lord had come to the council 'armed and weaponed,' and attended by seven score horsemen in their shirts of mail; and we are assured that the chancellor, having set forth his oration 'with such a lamentable action as his cheekes were all beblubbered with teares, the horsemen, namelie, such as understood not English, began to diuine what the lord-chancellor meant with all this long circum- stance; some of them reporting that he was preaching a sermon, others said that he stood making of some heroicall poetry in the praise of the Lord Thomas. And thus as every idiot shot his foolish bolt at the wise chancellor his discourse, who in effect had nought else but drop pretious stones before hogs, one Bard de Nelan, an Irish rithmour, and a rotten sheepe to infect a whole flocke, was chatting of Irish verses, as though his toong had run on pattens, in commendation of the Lord Thomas, investing him with the title of Silken Thomas, bicause his horse- mens jacks were gorgeously imbroidered with silke; and in the end he told him that he lingered there ouer long; whereat the Lord Thomas being quickened,' ^ as Holinshed expresses it, bid defiance to the chancellor, threw down contemptuously the sword of office, which, in his father's absence, he held as deputy, and rushed forth to engage in open insurrection. Note 58, p. 151 •; Clandeboy is a district of Ulster, formerly possessed by the sept of the O'Neales, and Slieve-Donard a romantic mountain in the same province. The clan was ruined after Tyrone's great rebellion, and their places of abode laid desolate. The ancient Irish, wild and uncultivated in other respects, did not yield even to their descendants in practising the most free and extended hospitality; and doubtless the bards mourned the decay of the mansion of their chiefs in strains similar to the verses of the British Llywarch Hen on a similar occasion, which are affect- I Holinshed, London, 1808, 4to, vi, 291. 488 NOTES ing, even through the discouraging medium of a literal trans- lation : — Silent-breathing gale, long wilt thou be heard' There is scarcely another deserving praise, Since Urien is no more. Many a dog that scented well the prey, and aerial hawk. Have been trained on this floor Before Erlleon became polluted . . . This hearth, ah, will it not be covered with nettlesl Whilst its defender lived. More congenial to it was the foot of the needy petitioner. This hearth, will it not be covered with green sod I In the lifetime of Owain and Elphin, Its ample caldron boiled the prey taken from the foe. . This hearth, will it not be covered with toad-stoolsl Around the viand it prepared, more cheering was The clattering sword of the fierce dauntless warrior. This hearth, will it not be overgrown with spreading bramblesl Till now, logs of burning wood lay on it. Accustomed to prepare the gifts of Reged I This hearth, will it not be covered with thorns! More congenial on it would have been the mixed group Of Owain's social friends united in harmony. This hearth, will it not be covered over with ants! More adapted to it would have been the bright torches And harmless festivities I This hearth, will it not be covered with dock-leaves! More congenial on its floor would have been The mead, and the talking of wine-cheered warriors. This hearth, will it not be turned up by the swinel More congenial to it would have been the clamour of men, And the circling horns of the banquet.' Heroic Elegies of Llywarc Hen, by Owen, London, 1792, 8vo, p. 41 The hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night. Without fire, without bed — I must weep a while, and then be silent! The hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night, Without fire, without candle — Except God doth, who will endue me with patience! The hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night. Without fire, without being lighted — Be thou encircled with spreading silence! 489 NOTES The hall of Cynddylan, gloomy seems its roof Since the sweet smile of humanity is no more — Woe to him that saw it, if he neglects to do goodl The hall of Cynddylan, art thou not bereft of thy appearance Thy shield is in the grave; Whilst he lived there was no broken roof! The hall of Cynddylan is without love this night, Since he that owned it is no more — Ah, death: it will be but a short time he will leave met The hall of Cynddylan is not easy this night. On the top of the rock of Hydwith, Without its lord, without company, without the circling feasts! The hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this night, , Without fire, without songs — Tears aiflict the cheeks! The hall of Cynddylan is gloomy this nigbti Without fire, without family — My overflowing tears gush out! The hall of Cynddylan pierces me to see it. Without a covering, without fire — My general dead, and I alive myself! The hall of Cynddylan is the seat of chill grief this night, After the respect I experienced; Without the men, without the women, who reside there! The hall of Cynddylan is silent this night. After losing its master — The great merciful God, what shall I do! Heroic Elegies of Llywarc Hen, by Owen, London, 1792, 8vo, p. 77. Note 59, p. 154 Marwood Chase is the old park extending along the Durham side of the Tees, attached to Barnard Castle. Toller Hill is an eminence on the Yorkshire side of the river, commanding a superb view of the ruins. Note 60, p. 157 Drummond of Hawthornden was in the zenith of his reputa- tion as a poet during the Civil Wars. He died in 1649. 490 NOTES Note 6i, p. 157 'MacCurtin, hereditary Ollamh of North Munster, and Filea to Donough, Earle of Thomond, and President of Munster. This nobleman was amongst those who were prevailed upon to join Elizabeth's forces. Soon as it was known that he had basely abandoned the interests of his country, MacCurtin presented an adulatory poem to MacCarthy, chief of South Munster, and of the Eugenian line, who, with O'Neil, O'Donnel, Lacy, and others, were deeply engaged in protecting their violated coun- try. In this poem he dwells with rapture on the courage and patriotism of MacCarthy, but the verse that should (according to an established law of the order of the bards) be introduced in the praise of O'Brien, he turns into severe satire; "How am I afflicted (says he) that the descendant of the great Brion Boiromh cannot furnish me with a theme worthy the honour and glory of his exalted race!" Lord Thomond, hearing this, vowed vengeance on the spirited bard, who fled for refuge to the county of Cork. One day, observing the exasperated nobleman and his equipage at a small distance, he thought it was in vain to fly, and pretended to be suddenly seized with the pangs of death; directing his wife to lament over him, and tell his lordship, that the sight of him, by awakening the sense of his ingratitude, had so much affected him that he could not support it; and desired her at the same time to tell his lordship, that he entreated, as a dying request, his forgiveness. Soon as Lord Thomond arrived, the feigned tale was related to him. That nobleman was moved to compassion, and not only declared that he most heartily for- gave him, but, opening his purse, presented the fair mourner with some pieces to inter him. This instance of his lordship's pity and generosity gave courage to the trembling bard ; who, suddenly springing up, recited an extemporaneous ode in praise of Donough, and, reentering into his service, became once more his favourite.' — (Walker's Memoirs of the Irish Bards, London, 1786, 4to, p. 141.) 491 i NOTES Note 62, p. 158 Among the entertainments presented to Elizabeth at Kenil- worth Castle, was the introduction of a person designed to repre- sent a travelling minstrel, who entertained her with a solemn story out of the Acts of King Arthur. Of this person's dress and appearance Mr. Laneham has given us a very accurate account, transferred by Bishop Percy to the preliminary Dissertation on Minstrels, prefixed to his Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. I. Note 63, p. 171 The tradition from which the ballad is founded was supplied by a friend (the late Lord Webb Seymour), whose account I will not do the injustice to abridge, as it contains an admirable pic- ture of an old English hall: — 'Littlecote House stands in a low and lonely situation. On three sides it is surrounded by a park that spreads over the adjoining hill ; on the fourth, by meadows which are watered by J the river Kennet. Close on one side of the house is a thick grove of lofty trees, along the verge of which runs one of the principal avenues to it through the park. It is an irregular building of great antiquity, and was probably erected about the time of the termination of feudal warfare, when defence came no longer to be an object in a country mansion. Many circumstances, how- ever, in the interior of the house, seem appropriate to feudal times. The hall is very spacious, floored with stones, and lighted by large transom windows, that are clothed with casements. Its walls are hung with old military accoutrements, that have long been left a prey to rust. At one end of the hall is a range of coats of mail and helmets, and there is on every side abundance of old-fashioned pistols and guns, many of them with matchlocks. Immediately below the cornice hangs a row of leathern jerkins, made in the form of a shirt, supposed to have been worn as armour by the vassals. A large oak table, reaching nearly from one end of the room to the other, might have feasted the whole 492 NOTES neighbourhood, and an appendage to one end of it made it answer at other times for the old game of shufifleboard. The rest of the furniture is in a suitable style, particularly an arm- chair of cumbrous workmanship, constructed of wood, curiously turned, with a high back and triangular seat, said to have been used by Judge Popham in the reign of Elizabeth. The entrance into the hall is at one end, by a low door, communicating with a passage that leads from the outer door in the front of the house to a quadrangle ^ within; at the other, it opens upon a gloomy staircase, by which you ascend to the first floor, and, passing the doors of some bedchambers, enter a narrow gallery, which extends along the back front of the house from one end to the other of it, and looks upon an old garden. This gallery is hung with portraits, chiefly in the Spanish dresses of the sixteenth century. In one of the bedchambers, which you pass in going towards the gallery, is a bedstead with blue furniture, which time has now made dingy and threadbare, and in the bottom of one of the bed curtains you are shown a place where a small piece has been cut out and sewn in again, — a circumstance which serves to identify the scene of the following story: — ' It was on a dark rainj' night in the month of November, that an old midwife sat musing by her cottage fire-side, when on a sudden she was startled by a loud knocking at the door. On opening it she found a horseman, who told her that her assist- ance was required immediately by a person of rank, and that she should be handsomely rewarded; but that there were reasons for keeping the affair a strict secret, and, therefore, she must sub- mit to be blindfolded, and to be conducted in that condition to the bedchamber of the lady. With some hesitation the midwife consented ; the horseman bound her eyes, and placed her on a pillion behind him. After proceeding in silence for many miles through rough and dirty lanes, they stopped, and the midwife was led into a house, which, from the length of her walk through the apartments, as well as the sounds about her, she discovered to be the seat of wealth and power. When the bandage was » I think there is a chapel on one side of it, but am not quite sure. 493 NOTES removed from her eyes, she found herself in a bed-chamber, in which were the lady on whose account she had been sent for, and a man of a haughty and ferocious aspect. The lady was delivered of a fine boy. Immediately the man commanded the midwife to give him the child, and catching it from her, he hurried across the room, and threw it on the back of the fire, that was blazing in the chimney. The child, however, was strong, and by its struggles rolled itself upon the hearth, when the ruffian again seized it with fury, and in spite of the interces- sion of the midwife, and the more piteous entreaties of the mother, thrust it under the grate, and raking the live coals upon it, soon put an end to its life. The midwife, after spending some time in affording all the relief in her power to the wretched mother, was told that she must be gone. Her former conductor appeared, who again bound her eyes, and conveyed her behind him to her own home; he then paid her handsomely, and departed. The midwife was strongly agitated by the horrors of the preceding night; and she immediately made a deposition of the facts before a magistrate. Two circumstances afforded hopes of detecting the house in which the crime had been com- mitted; one was, that the midwife, as she sat by the bedside, had, with a view to discover the place, cut out a piece of the bed curtain, and sewn it in again; the other was, that as she had descended the staircase she had counted the steps. Some suspi- cions fell upon one Darrell, at that time the proprietor of Little- cote House, and the domain around it. The house wasexamined, and identified by the midwife, and Darrell was tried at Salisbury for the murder. By corrupting his judge, he escaped the sen- tence of the law; but broke his neck by a fall from his horse in hunting, in a few months after. The place where this happened is still known by the name of Darrell's Style, — a spot to be dreaded by the peasant whom the shades of evening have over- taken on his way. 'Littlecote House is two miles from Hungerford, in Berkshire, through which the Bath road passes. The fact occurred in the reign of Elizabeth. All the important circumstances I have 494 1 I I k|i NOTES given exactly as they are told in the country; some trifles only are added, either to render the whole connected, or to increase the impression.' To Lord Webb's edition of this singular story the author can now add the following account, extracted from Aubrey's Corre- spondence. It occurs among other particulars respecting Sir John Popham: — ' Sir Dayrell, of Littlecote, in Corn. Wilts, having gott his lady's waiting-woman with child, when her travell came, sent a servant with a horse for a midwife, whom he was to bring hoodwinked. She was brought, and layd the woman, but as soon as the child was born, she sawe the knight take the child and murther it, and burn it in the fire in the chamber. She having done her businesse, was extraordinarily rewarded for her paines, and sent blindfolded away. This horrid action did much run in her mind, and she had a desire to discover it, but knew not where 't was. She considered with herself the time that she was riding, and how many miles she might have rode at that rate in that time, and that it must be some great person's house, for the roome was 12 foot high ; and she should know the chamber if she sawe it. She went to a Justice of Peace, and search was made. The very chamber found. The Knight was brought to his tryall ; and to be short, this judge had this noble house, parke and manner, and (I thinke) more, for a bribe to save his life. 'Sir John Popham. gave sentence according to lawe, but being a great person, and a favourite, he procured a noli prosequi.' With this tale of terror the author has combined some circum- stances of a similar legend, which was current at Edinburgh during his childhood. About the beginning of the eighteenth century, when the large castles of the Scottish nobles, and even the secluded hotels, like those of the French noblesse, which they possessed in Edin- burgh, were sometimes the scenes of strange and mysterious transactions, a divine of singular sanctity was called up at mid- night to pray with a person at the point of death. This was no unusual summons; but what followed was alarming: He was put 495 NOTES into a sedan-chair, and after he had been transported to a remote part of the town, the bearers insisted upon his being blindfolded. The request was enforced by a cocked pistol, and submitted to; but in the course of the discussion, he conjectured, from the phrases employed by the chairmen, and from some part of their dress, not completely concealed by their cloaks, that they were greatly above the menial station they had assumed. After many turns and windings, the chair was carried up stairs into a lodg- ing, where his eyes were uncovered, and he was introduced into a bedroom, where he found a lady, newly delivered of an infant. He was commanded by his attendants to say such prayers by her bedside as were fitting for a person not expected to survive a mortal disorder. He ventured to remonstrate, and observe, that her safe delivery warranted better hopes. But he was sternly commanded to obey the orders first given, and with difficulty recollected himself sufficiently to acquit himself of the task imposed on him. He was then again hurried into the chair; but as they conducted him down stairs, he heard the report of a pistol. He was safely conducted home; a purse of gold was forced upon him ; but he was warned, at the same time, that the least allusion to this dark transaction would cost him his life. He betook himself to rest, and, after long and broken musing, fell into a deep sleep. From this he was awakened by his servant, with the dismal news that a fire of uncommon fury had broken out in the house of , near the head of the Canongate, and that it was totally consumed; with the shocking addition, that the daughter of the proprietor, a young lady eminent for beauty and accomplishments, had perished in the flames. The clergy- man had his suspicions, but to have made them public would have availed nothing. He was timid; the family was of the first distinction; above all, the deed was done, and could not be amended. Time wore away, however, and with it his terrors. He became unhappy at being the solitary depositary of this fearful mystery, and mentioned it to some of his brethren, through whom the anecdote acquired a sort of publicity. The divine, however, had been long dead, and the story in some 496 NOTES degree forgotten, when a fire broke out again on the very same spot where the house of had formerly stood, and which was now occupied by buildings of an inferior description. When the flames were at their height, the tumult, which usually attends such a scene, was suddenly suspended by an unexpected apparition. A beautiful female, in a night dress, extremely rich, but at least half a century old, appeared in the very midst of the fire, and uttered these tremendous words in her vernacular idiom: ' Anes burned, twice burned; the third time I '11 scare you all!' The belief in this story was formerly so strong, that on a fire breaking out, and seeming to approach the fatal spot, there was a good deal of anxiety testified, lest the apparition should make good her denunciation. Note 64, p. 177 Such an exhortation was, in similar circumstances, actually given to his followers by a Welsh chieftain: — 'Enmity did continue betweene Howell ap Rys ap Howell Vaughan and the sonnes of John ap Meredith. After the death of Even ap Rebert, Griffith ap Gronw (cosen german to John ap Meredith's sonnes of Gwynfryn, who had long served in France, and had charge there) comeing home to live in the countrey, it happened that a servant of his, comeing to fish in Stymllyn, his fish was taken away, and the fellow beaten by Howell ap Rys his servants, and by his commandment. Griffith ap John ap Gronw took the matter in such dudgeon that he challenged Howell ap Rys to the field, which he refusing, assembling his cosins John ap Meredith's sonnes and his friends together, assaulted Howell in his own house, after the maner he had scene in the French warres, and consumed with fire his barnes and his out-houses. Whilst he was thus assaulting the hall, which Howel ap Rys and many other people kept, being a very strong house, he was shot, out of a crevice of the house, through the sight of his beaver into the head, and slayne outright, being otherwise armed at all points. Notwithstanding his death, the 49 497 NOTES } I assault of the house was continued with great vehemence, the doores fired with great burthens of straw; besides this, the smoake of the out-houses and barnes not farre distant annoyed greatly the defendants, for that most of them lay under boordes and benches upon the fioore, in the hall, the better to avoyd the smoake. During this scene of confusion onely the old man, Howell ap Rys, never stooped, but stood valiantly in the mid- dest of the fioore, armed with a gleve in his hand, and called unto them, and bid "them arise like men, for shame, for he had knowne there as great a smoake in that hall upon Christmas- even." In the end, seeing the house could noe longer defend them, being overlayed with a multitude, upon parley betweene them, Howell ap Rys was content to yeald himself prisoner to Morris ap John ap Meredith, John ap Meredith's eldest sonne, soe as he would swear unto him to bring him safe to Carnarvon Castle, to abide the triall of the law for the death of Graff' ap John ap Gronw, who was cosen-german removed to the said Howell ap Rys, and of the very same house he was of. Which Morris ap John ap Meredith undertaking, did put a guard about the said Howell of his trustiest friends and servants, who kept and defended him from the rage of his kindred, and especially of Owen ap John ap Meredith, his brother, who was very eager against him. They passed by leisure thence like a campe to Carnarvon: the whole countrie being assembled, Howell his , friends posted a horseback from one place or other by the way, J Hj who brought word that he was come thither safe, for they were in great fear lest he should be murthered, and that Morris ap John ap Meredith could not be able to defend him, neither durst any of Howell's friends be there, for fear of the kindred. In the end, being delivered by Morris ap John ap Meredith to the constable of Carnarvon Castle, and there kept safely in ward untill the assises, it fell out by law, that the burning of Howell's houses, and assaulting him in his owne house, was a more haynous offence in Morris ap John ap Meredith and the' rest, than the death of Graff' ap John ap Gronw in Howell, who did it in his own defence; whereupon Morris ap John ap Mere- 498 4 NOTES dith, with thirty-five more, were indicted of felony, as appeareth by the copie of the indictment, which I had from the records.' — (Sir John Wynne's History of the Gwydir Family, London, 1770, 8vo, p. 116.) Note 65, p. 205 This custom among the Redesdale and Tynedale Borderers is mentioned in the interesting Life of Barnard Gilpin, where some account is given of these wild districts, which it was the custom of that excellent man regularly to visit. 'This custom (of duels) still prevailed on the Borders, where Saxon barbarism held its latest possession. These wild North- umbrians, indeed, w'ent beyond the ferocity of their ancestors. They were not content with a duel: each contending party used to muster what adherents he could, and commence a kind of petty war. So that a private grudge would often occasion much bloodshed. ' It happened that a quarrel of this kind was on foot when Mr. Gilpin was at Rothbury, in those parts. During the two or three first days of his preaching, the contending parties observed some decorum, and never appeared at church together. At length, however, they met. One party had been early at church, and just as Mr. Gilpin began his sermon the other entered. They stood not long silent. Inflamed at the sight of each other, they began to clash their weapons, for they were all armed with jave- lins and swords, and mutually approached. Awed, however, by the sacredness of the place, the tumult in some degree ceased. Mr. Gilpin proceeded: when again the combatants began to brandish their weapons, and draw towards each other. As a fray seemed near, Mr. Gilpin stepped from the pulpit, went between them, and addressed the leaders, put an end to the quarrel for the present, but could not effect an entire reconciliation. They promised him, however, that till the sermon was over they would make no more disturbance. He then went again into the pulpit, and spent the rest of the time in endeavouring to make them ashamed of what they had done. His behaviour and discourse 499 NOTES affected them so much, that, at his farther entreaty, they pro- mised to forbear all acts of hostility while he continued in the country. And so much respected was he among them, that whoever was in fear of his enemy used to resort where IVIr. Gilpin was, esteeming his presence the best protection. 'One Sunday morning, coming to a church in those parts, before the people were assembled, he observed a glove hanging up, and was informed by the sexton, that it was meant as a chal- lenge to any one who should take it down. Mr. Gilpin ordered the sexton to reach it him; but upon his utterly refusing to touch it, he took it down himself, and put it into his breast. When the people were assembled, he went into the pulpit, and, before he concluded his sermon, took occasion to rebuke them severely for these inhuman challenges. "I hear," saith he, "that one among you hath hanged up a glove, even in this sacred place, threatening to fight any one who taketh it down: see, I have taken it down;" and, pulling out the glove, he held it up to the congregation, and then showed them how unsuitable such sav- age practices were to the profession of Christianity, using such persuasives to mutual love as he thought would most affect them.' {Life oj Barnard Gilpin, London, 1753, 8vo, p. 177.) Note 66, p. 218 This, and what follows, is taken from a real achievement of Major Robert Philipson, called, from his desperate and adven- turous courage, Robin the Devil; which, as being very inaccu- rately noticed in this note upon the first edition, shall be now given in a more authentic form. The chief place of his retreat was not Lord's Island, in Derwentwater, but Curwen's Island, in the Lake of Windermere. 'This island formerly belonged to the Philipsons, a family of note in Westmoreland. During the Civil Wars, two of them, an elder and a younger brother, served the King. The former, who was the proprietor of it, commanded a regiment; the latter was a major. 500 NOTES 'The major, whose name was Robert, was a man of great spirit and enterprise ; and for his many feats of personal bravery had obtained, among the Oliverians of those parts, the appella- tion of Robin the Devil. 'After the war had subsided, and the direful effects of public opposition had ceased, revenge and malice long kept alive the animosity of individuals. Colonel Briggs, a steady friend to usurpation, resided at this time at Kendal, and, under the double character of a leading magistrate (for he was a Justice-of- Peace) and an active commander, held the country in awe. This person having heard that Major Philipson was at his brother's house on the island in Windermere, resolved, if possible, to seize and pun- ish a man who had made himself so particularly obnoxious. How it was conducted, my authority ^ does not inform us — whether he got together the navigation of the lake, and blockaded the place by sea, or whether he landed and carried on his approaches in form. Neither do we learn the strength of the garrison within, nor of the works without. All we learn is, that Major Philipson endured a siege of eight months with great gallantry, till his brother, the Colonel, raised a party and relieved him. * It was now the Major's turn to make reprisals. He put him- self, therefore, at the head of a little troop of horse, and rode to Kendal. Here, being informed that Colonel Briggs was at prayers (for it was on a Sunday morning), he stationed his men properly in the avenues, and himself armed, rode directly into the church. It probably was not a regular church, but some large place of meeting. It is said he intended to seize the Colonel and carry him off; but as this seems to have been totally impracti- cable, it is rather probable that his intention was to kill him on the spot, and in the midst of the confusion to escape. Whatever his intention was, it was frustrated, for Briggs happened to be elsewhere. 'The congregation, as might be expected, was thrown into great confusion on seeing an armed man on horseback make hi- appearance among them; and the Major, taking advantage ol ' Dr. Burn's History of Westmoreland. m^h '"'"'''^" STfJE COllIil LIBRA NOTES Note 67, p. 233 The ruins of the Castle of Artornish are situated upon a promontory, on the Morven, or mainland side of the Sound of Mull, a name given to the deep arm of the sea, which divides that island from the continent. The situation is wild and roman- tic in the highest degree, having on the one hand a high and precipitous chain of rocks overhanging the sea, and on the other the narrow entrance to the beautiful salt-water lake, called Loch Alline, which is in many places finely fringed with copse- wood. The ruins of Artornish are not now very considerable, and consist chiefly of the remains of an old keep, or tower, with fragments of outward defences. But, in former days, it was a place of great consequence, being one of the principal strong- holds which the Lords of the Isles, during the period of their stormy independence, possessed upon the mainland of Argyle- shire. Here they assembled what popular tradition calls their parliaments, meaning, I suppose, their coiir plenihe, or assem- bly of feudal and patriarchal vassals and dependents. From this Castle of Artornish, upon the 19th day of October, 1461, John de Yle, designing himself Earl of Ross and Lord of the Isles, granted, in the style of an independent sovereign, a commission to his trusty and well-beloved cousins, Ronald of the 502 n their astonishment, turned his horse round, and rode quietly out. But having given an alarm, he was presently assaulted as he left the assembly, and being seized, his girths were cut, and he was unhorsed. J 'At this instant his party made a furious attack on the assail- ants, and the Major killed with his own hand the man who had seized him, clapped the saddle, ungirthed as it was, upon his horse, and, vaulting into it, rode full speed through the streets of Kendal, calling his men to follow him; and, with his whole H party, made a safe retreat to his asylum in the lake. The action ' marked the man. Many knew him: and they who did not, knew as well from the exploit that it could be nobody but Robin the Devil.' I NOTES Isles, and Duncan, Arch-Dean of the Isles, for empowering them to enter into a treaty with the most excellent Prince Edward, by the grace of God, King of France and England, and Lord of Ire- land. Edward IV, on his part, named Laurence, Bishop of Dur- ham, the Earl of Worcester, the Prior of St. John's, Lord Wen- lock, and Mr. Robert Stillington, keeper of the privy seal, his deputies and commissioners, to confer with those named by the Lord of the Isles. The conference terminated in a treaty, by which the Lord of the Isles agreed to become a vassal to the crown of England, and to assist Edward IV and James Earl of Douglas, then in banishment, in subduing the realm of Scot- land. The first article provides, that John de Isle, Earl of Ross, with his son Donald Balloch, and his grandson John de Isle, with all their subjects, men, people, and inhabitants, become vassals and liegemen to Edward IV of England, and assist him in his wars in Scotland or Ireland; and then follow the allowances to be made to the Lord of the Isles, in recompense of his military service, and the provisions for dividing such conquests as their united arms should make upon the mainland of Scotland among the confederates. These appear such curious illustrations of the period, that they are here subjoined: — 'Item, The seid John Erie of Rosse shall, from the seid fest of Whittesontyde next comyng, yerely, durying his lyf, have and take, for fees and wages in tyme of peas, of the seid most high and Christien prince c. marc sterlyng of Englysh money; and in tyme of werre, as long as he shall entende with his myght and power in the said werres, in manner and fourme abovesaid, he shall have wages of cc. lb. sterlyng of English money yearly ; and after the rate of the tyme that he shall be occupied in the seid werres. 'Item, The seid Donald shall, from the seid feste of Whitte- sontyde, have and take, during his lyf, yerly, in tyme of peas, for his fees and wages, xx /. sterlyng of Englysh money; and, when he shall be occupied and intend to the werre,with his myght and power, and in manner and fourme aboveseid, he shall have and II 503 NOTES take, for his wages yearly, xl /. sterlynge of Englysh money; or for the rate of the tyme of werre — * Item, The seid John, sonn and heire apparant of the said Donald, shall have and take, yerely, from the seid fest, for his fees and wages, in the tyme of peas, x I. sterlynge of Englysh money; and for tyme of werre, and his intendyng thereto, in manner and fourme aboveseid, he shall have, for his fees and wages, yearly xx /. sterlynge of Englysh money; or after the rate of the tyme that he shall be occupied in the werre: And the seid John, th' Erie Donald and John, and eche of them, shall have good and sufhciaunt paiment of the seid fees and wages, as wel for tyme of peas as of werre, accordyng to thees articules and appoyntements. Item, it is appointed, accorded, concluded, and finally determined, that, if it so be that hereafter the seid reaume of Scotlande, or the more part thereof, be conquered, subdued, and brought to the obeissance of the seid most high and Chris- tien prince, and his heires, or successoures, of the seid Lionell, in fourme aboveseid descendyng, be the assistance, helpe, and aide of the seid John Erie of Rosse, and Donald, and of James Erie of Douglas, then, the seid fees and wages for the tyme of peas cessying, the same erles and Donald shall have, by the graunte of the same most Christien prince, all the possessions of the seid reaume beyonde Scottishe see, they to be departed equally betwix them: eche of them, his heires and successours, to holde his parte of the seid most Christien prince, his heires and successours, for evermore, in right of his croune of England, by homage and feaute to be done therefore. 'Item, If so be that, by th' aide and assistence of the seid James Erie of Douglas, the saide reaume of Scotlande be con- quered and subdued as above, then he shall have, enjoie, and inherite all his own possessions, landes, and inheritaunce, on this syde the Scottish see; that is to saye, betwixt the seid Scottishe see and Englande, such he hath rejoiced and be possessed of before this; there to holde them of the seid most high and Christien prince, his heires, and successours, as is abovesaid, for evermore, in right of the coroune of Englonde, as 504 » NOTES weel the seid Erie of Douglas, as his helres and successours, by homage and feaute to be done therefore.' (Rymer's Fcedera Conventiones LitercE et cujuscunque generis Acta Puhlica, fol. v, 1741.) Such was the treaty of Artornish; but it does not appear that the allies ever made any very active efTort to realize their ambi- tious designs. It will ser\e to show both the power of these reguli, and their independence upon the Crown of Scotland. It is only farther necessary to say of the Castle of Artornish, that it is almost opposite to the Bay of Aros, in the Island of Mull, where there was another castle, the occasional residence of the Lord of the Isles. Note 68, p. 234 The seal displays a taste for music, which could scarcely be expected from his habits and local predilections. They will long follow a boat in which any musical instrument is played, and even a tune simply whistled has attractions for them. The Dean of the Isles says of Heiskar, a small uninhabited rock, about twelve (Scottish) miles from the isle of Uist, that an infinite slaughter of seals takes place there. Note 69, p. 238 The Sound of Mull, which divides that island from the con- tinent of Scotland, is one of the most striking scenes which the Hebrides afford to the traveller. Sailing from Oban to Aros, or Tobermory, through a narrow channel, yet deep enough to bear vessels of the largest burden, he has on his left the bold and mountainous shores of Mull ; on the right those of that district of Argyleshire, called Morven, or Morvern, successively indented by deep salt-water lochs, running up many miles inland. To the southeastward arise a prodigious range of mountains, among which Cruachan Ben is preeminent. And to the northeast is the no less huge and picturesque range of the Ardnamurchan hills. 50s NOTES Many ruinous castles, situated generally upon cliffs overhanging the ocean, add interest to the scene. Those of Donolly and Dunstaffnage are first passed, then that of Duart, formerly belonging to the chief of the warlike and powerful sept of MacLeans, and the scene of Miss Baillie's beautiful tragedy, entitled the Family Legend. Still passing on to the northward, Artornish and Aros become visible upon the opposite shores; and, lastly, Mingarry, and other ruins of less distinguished note. In fine weather, a grander and more impressive scene, both from its natural beauties, and associations with ancient history and tradition, can hardly be imagined. When the weather is rough, the passage is both difficult and dangerous, from the narrowness of the channel, and in part from the number of inland lakes, out of which sally forth a number of conflicting and thwarting tides, making the navigation perilous to open boats. The sudden flaws and gusts of wind which issue without a moment's warn- ing from the mountain glens, are equally formidable. So that in unsettled weather, a stranger, if not much accustomed to the sea, may sometimes add to the other sublime sensations excited by the scene, that feeling of dignity which arises from a sense of danger. Note 70, p. 238 The number of the western isles of Scotland exceeds two hundred, of which St. Kilda is the most northerly, anciently called Hirth, or Hirt, probably from 'earth,' being in fact the whole globe to its inhabitants. Hay, which now belongs almost entirely to Walter Campbell, Esq., of Shawfield, is by far the most fertile of the Hebrides, and has been greatly improved under the spirited and sagacious management of the present proprietor. This was in ancient times the principal abode of the Lords of the Isles, being, if not the largest, the most important island of their archipelago. In Martin's time, some relics of their grandeur were yet extant. *Loch-Finlagan, about three miles in circumference, affords salmon, trouts, and eels: this lake lies in the centre of the isle. The Isle Finlagan, from which this lake 506 NOTES hath its name, is in it. It's famous for being once the court in which the great AlacDonald, King of the Isles, had his residence; his houses, chapel, etc., are now ruinous. His guards de corps, called Lucht-tach, kept guard on the lakeside nearest to the isle; the walls of their houses are still to be seen there. The high court of judicature, consisting of fourteen, sat always here; and there was an appeal to them from all the courts in the isles: the eleventh share of the sum in debate was due to the principal judge. There was a big stone of seven foot square, in which there was a deep impression made to receive the feet of MacDonald; for he was crowned King of the Isles standing in this stone, and swore that he would continue his vassals in the possession of their lands, and do exact justice to all his subjects: and then his father's sword was put into his hand. The Bishop of Argyle and seven priests anointed him king, in presence of all the heads of the tribes in the isles and continent, and were his vassals; at which time the orator rehearsed a catalogue of his ancestors,' etc. (Martin's Account of the Western Isles, 8vo, London, 1716, p. 240.) Note 71, p. 239 The castle of Mingarry is situated on the seacoast of the dis- trict of Ardnamurchan. The ruins, which are tolerably entire, are surrounded by a very high wall, forming a kind of polygon, for the purpose of adapting itself to the projecting angles of a precipice overhanging the sea, on which the castle stands. It was anciently the residence of the Maclans, a clan of Macdonalds descended from Ian, or John, a grandson of Angus Og, Lord of the Isles. The last time that Mingarr>' was of military import- ance, occurs in the celebrated Leabhar dearg, or Red-Book of Clanronald, a MS. renowned in the Ossianic controversy. Allaster MacDonald, commonly called Colquitto, who com- manded the Irish auxiliaries, sent over by the Earl of Antrim during the great civil war to the assistance of Montrose, began his enterprise in 1644, by taking the castles of Kinloch-Alline, 507 i NOTES and Mingarry, the last of which made considerable resistance, as might, from the strength of the situation, be expected. In the meanwhile, AUaster MacDonald's ships, which had brought him over, were attacked in Loch Eisord, in Skye, by an armament sent round by the covenanting parliament, and his own vessel was taken. This circumstance is said chiefly to have induced him to continue in Scotland, where there seemed little prospect of raising an army in behalf of the king. He had no sooner moved eastward to join Montrose, a junction which he effected in the braes of Athole, than the Marquis of Argyle besieged the castle of Mingarry, but without success. Among other warriors and chiefs whom Argyle summoned to his camp to assist upon this occasion, was John of Moidart, the Captain of Clanronald. Clanronald appeared; but, far from yielding effectual assistance to Argyle, he took the opportunity of being in arms to lay waste the district of Sunart, then belonging to the adherents of Argyle, and sent part of the spoil to relieve the castle of Mingarry. Thus the castle was maintained until relieved by AUaster MacDonald (Colquitto), who had been detached for the purpose by Mon- trose. These particulars are hardly worth mentioning, were they not connected with the memorable successes of Montrose, related by an eyewitness, and hitherto unknown to Scottish historians. Note 72, p. 239 Somerled was thane of Argyle and Lord of the Isles, about the middle of the twelfth century. He seems to have exercised his authority in both capacities, independent of the Crown of Scotland, against which he often stood in hostility. He made various incursions upon the western lowlands during the reign of Malcolm IV, and seems to have made peace with him upon the terms of an independent prince, about the year 1157. In 1 1 64, he resumed the war against Malcolm, and invaded Scot- land with a large but probably a tumultuary army, collected in the isles, in the mainland of Argyleshire, and in the neighbour- ing provinces of Ireland. He was defeated and ^ain in an en- 508 « NOTES gagement with a very inferior force, near Renfrew. His son Gillicolane fell in the same battle. This mighty chieftain married a daughter of Olaus, King of Man. From him our genealogists deduce two dynasties, distinguished in the stormy history of the middle ages; the Lords of the Isles descended from his elder son Ronald, — and the Lords of Lorn, who took their surname of M'Dougal, as descended of his second son Dougal. That Somerled's territories upon the mainland, and upon the islands, should have been thus divided between his two sons, instead of passing to the elder exclusively, may illustrate the uncertainty of descent among the great Highland families, which we shall presently notice. Note 73, p. 239 The representative of this independent principality, for such it seems to have been, though acknowledging occasionally the preeminence of the Scottish Crown, was, at the period of the poem, Angus, called Angus Og; but the name has been, euphonice gratia, exchanged for that of Ronald, which frequently occurs in the genealogy. Angus was a protector of Robert Bruce, whom he received in his castle of Dunnaverty, during the time of his greatest distress. As I shall be equally liable to censure for attempting to decide a controversy which has long existed between three distinguished chieftains of this family, who have long disputed the representation of the Lord of the Isles, or for leaving a question of such importance altogether untouched, I choose, in the first place, to give such information as I have been able to derive from Highland genealogists, and which, for those who have patience to investigate such subjects, really contains some curious information concerning the historj' of the Isles. In the second place, I shall ofTer a few remarks upon the rules of succession at that period, without pretending to decide their bearing upon the question at issue, which must depend upon evidence which I have had no opportunity to examine. 'Angus Og,' says an ancient manuscript translated from the Gaelic, 'son of Angus Mor, son of Donald, son of Ronald, son 509 f NOTES of Somerled, high chief and superior Lord of Innisgall (or the Isles of the Gael, the general name given to the Hebrides), he married a daughter of Cumbui, namely, Cathan ; she was mother to John, son of Angus, and with her came an unusual portion from Ireland, viz. twenty-four clans, of whom twenty-four families in Scotland are descended. Angus had another son, namely, young John Fraoch, whose descendants are called Clan- Ean of Glencoe, and the MacDonalds of Fraoch. This Angus Og died in Isla, where his body was interred. His son John succeeded to the inheritance of Innisgall. He had good descend- ants, namely, three sons procreate of Ann, daughter of Rodric, high chief of Lorn, and one daughter, Mary, married to John Maclean, Laird of Duart, and Lauchlan, his brother, Laird of Coll; she was interred in the church of the Black Nuns. The eldest sons of John were Ronald, Godfrey, and Angus. . . . He gave Ronald a great inheritance. These were the lands which he gave him, viz., from Kilcumin in Abertarf to the river Seil, and from thence to Beilli, north of Eig and Rum, and the two Uists, and from thence to the foot of the river Glaichan, and threescore long ships. John married afterwards Margaret Stewart, daughter to Robert Stewart, King of Scotland, called John Fernyear; she bore him three good sons, Donald of the Isles, the heir, John the Tainister (i.e., Thane), the second son, and Alexander Carrach. John had another son called Marcus, of whom the clan Macdonald of Cnoc, in Tirowen, are descended. This John lived long, and made donations to Icolumkill; he covered the chapel of Eorsay-Elan, the chapel of Finlagam, and the chapel of the Isle of Tsuibhne, and gave the proper furniture for the service of God, upholding the clergy and monks; he built or repaired the church of the Holy Cross immediately before his death. He died at his own castle of Ardtorinish, many priests and monks took the sacrament at his funeral, and they embalmed the body of this dear man, and brought it to Icolumkill ; the abbot, monks, and vicar, came as they ought to meet the King of Fiongal,^ and out of great ' Western Isles and adjacent coast. 510 II NOTES respect to his memory mourned eight days and nights over it, and laid it in the same grave with his father, in the church of Oran, 1380. ' Ronald, son of John, was chief ruler of the Isles in his father's lifetime, and was old in the government at his father's death. 'He assembled the gentry of the Isles, brought the sceptre from Kildonan in Eig, and delivered it to his brother Donald, who was thereupon called MacDonald, and Donald Lord of the Isles,^ contrary to the opinion of the men of the Isles. ' Ronald, son of John, son of Angus Og, was a great supporter of the church and clergy; his descendants are called Clanronald. He gave the lands of Tiruma, in Uist, to the minister of it for ever, for the honour of God and Columkill ; he was proprietor of all the lands of the north along the coast and the isles ; he died in the year of Christ 1386, in his own mansion of Castle Tirim, leaving five children. Donald of the Isles, son of John, son of Angus Og, the brother of Ronald, took possession of Inisgall by the consent of his brother and the gentry thereof; they were all obedient to him : he married Mary Lesley, daughter to the Earl of Ross, and by her came the earldom of Ross to the MacDonalds. After his succession to that earldom, he was called MacDonald, Lord of the Isles and Earl of Ross. There are many things writ- ten of him in other places. 'He fought the battle of Garioch (i.e., Harlaw) against Duke Murdoch, the governor, the Earl of Mar commanded the army, in support of his claim to the earldom of Ross: which was ceded to him by King James the First, after his release from the King of England, and Duke Murdoch, his two sons and retainers, were beheaded: he gave lands in Mull and Isla to the minister of Hi, and every privilege which the minister of lona had formerly, besides vessels of gold and silver to Columkill for the monastery, and became himself one of the fraternity. He left issue, a lawful heir to Innisgall and Ross, namely, Alexander, the son of Donald: he died in Isla, and his body was interred in the south side of the temple of Oran. Alexander, called John ' Innisgal. NOTES of the Isles, son of Alexander of the Isles, son of Donald of the Isles. Angus, the third son of John, son of Angus Og, married the daughter of John, the son of Allan, which connexion caused some disagreement betwixt the two families about their marches and division of lands, the one party adhering to Angus, and the other to John: the differences increased so much, that John obtained from Allan all the lands betwixt "Abhan Fahda " (i.e., the long river) and "old na sionnach" (i.e., the fox-burn brook), in the upper part of Cantyre. Allan went to the king to complain of his son-in-law; in a short time thereafter, there happened to be a great meeting about this young Angus's lands to the north of Inverness, where he was murdered by his own harper MacCairbre, by cutting his throat with a long knife. He ^ lived a year thereafter, and many of those concerned were delivered up to the king. Angus's wife was pregnant at the time of his murder, and she bore him a son who was named Donald, and called Donald Du. He was kept in confinement until he was thirty years of age, when he was released by the men of Glenco, by the strong hand. After this enlargement, he came to the Isles, and convened the gentry thereof. There happened great feuds betwixt these families while Donald Du was in con- finement, insomuch that MacCean of Ardnamurchan destroyed the greatest part of the posterity of John Mor of the Isles and Cantyre. For John Cathanach, son of John, son of Donald Balloch, son of John Mor, son of John, son of Angus Og (the chief of the descendants of John Mor), and John Mor, son of John Cathanach, and young John, son of John Cathanach, and young Donald Balloch, son of John Cathanach, were treacher- ously taken by MacCean in the island of Finlagan, in Isla, and carried to Edinburgh, where he got them hanged at the Burrow- Muir, and their bodies were buried in the church of St. Anthony, called the New Church. There were none left alive at that time of the children of John Cathanach, except Alexander, the son of John Cathanach, and Agnes Flach, who concealed themselves in the glens of Ireland. MacCean, hearing of their hiding- * The murderer, I presume, not the man who was murdered. NOTES places, went to cut down the woods of these glens, in order to destroy Alexander, and extirpate the whole race. At length MacCean and Alexander met, were reconciled, and a marriage alliance took place; Alexander married MacCean's daughter, and she brought him good children. The MacDonalds of the north had also descendants; for, after the death of John, Lord of the Isles, and Earl of Ross, and the murder of Angus, Alex- ander, the son of Archibald, the son of Alexander of the Isles, took possession, and John was in possession of the earldom of Ross, and the north bordering country; he married a daughter of the Earl of Moray, of whom some of the men of the north had descended. The MacKenzies rose against Alexander, and fought the battle called " Blar na Paire." Alexander had only a few of the men of Ross at the battle. He went after that battle to take possession of the Isles, and sailed in a ship to the south to see if he could find any of the posterity of John Mor alive, to rise along with him; but MacCean of Ardnamurchan watched him as he sailed past, followed him to Oransay and Colonsay, went to the house where he was, and he and Alexander, son of John Cathanach, murdered him there. 'A good while after these things fell out, Donald Galda, son of Alexander, son of Archibald, became major; he, with the advice and direction of the Earl of Moray, came to the Isles, and MacLeod of the Lewis, and many of the gentry of the Isles, rose with him : they went by the promontory of Ardnamurchan, where they met Alexander, the son of John Cathanach, were reconciled to him, he joined his men with theirs against MacCean of Ardnamurchan, came upon him at a place called the Silver Craig, where he and his three sons, and a great num- ber of his people, were killed, and Donald Galda was immedi- ately declared MacDonald: And, after the affair of Ardnamur- chan, all the men of the Isles yielded to him, but he did not live above seven or eight weeks after it ; he died at Carnaborg, in Mull, without issue. He had three sisters, daughters of Alexan- der, son of Archibald, who were portioned in the north upon the continent, but the earldom of Ross was kept for them. Alex- ia 513 NOTES ander, the son of Archibald, had a natural son, called John Cam, of whom is descended Achnacoichan, in Ramoeh, and Donald Gorm, son of Ronald, son of Alexander Duson, of John Cam. Donald Du, son of Angus, son of John of the Isles, son of Alex- ander of the Isles, son of Donald of the Isles, son of John of the Isles, son of Angus Og, namely, the true heir of the Isles and Ross, came after his release from captivity to the Isles, and convened the men thereof, and he and the Earl of Lennox agreed to raise a great army for the purpose of taking possession, and a ship came from England with a supply of money to carry on the war, which landed at Mull, and the money was given to MacLean of Duart to be distributed among the commanders of the army, which they not receiving in propor- tion as it should have been distributed among them, caused the army to disperse, which, when the Earl of Lennox heard, he disbanded his own men, and made it up with the King. Mac- Donald went to Ireland to raise men, but he died on his way to Dublin, at Drogheda, of a fever, without issue of either sons or daughters.' In this history may be traced, though the Bard, or Seanna- chie, touches such a delicate discussion with a gentle hand, the point of difference between the three principal septs descended from the Lords of the Isles. The first question, and one of no easy solution, where so little evidence is produced, respects the nature of the connexion of John, called by the Archdean of the Isles 'the Good John of Ila,' and 'the last Lord of the Isles,' with Anne, daughter of Roderick MacDougal, high chief of Lorn. In the absence of positive evidence, presumptive must be resorted to, and I own it appears to render it in the highest degree improbable that this connexion was otherwise than legitimate. In the wars between David II and Edward Baliol, John of the Isles espoused the Baliol interest, to which he was probably determined by his alliance with Roderick of Lorn, who was, from every family predilection, friendly to Baliol and hostile to Bruce. It seems absurd to suppose, that between two chiefs of the same descent, and nearly equal power and rank 514 n NOTES (though the MacDougals had been much crushed by Robert Bruce), such a connexion should have been that of concubinage; and it appears more likely that the tempting offer of an alliance with the Bruce family, when they had obtained the decided superiority in Scotland, induced 'the good John of Ila,' to dis- inherit, to a certain extent, his eldest son Ronald, who came of a stock so unpopular as the MacDougals, and to call to his suc- cession his younger family, born of Margaret Stuart, daughter of Robert, afterwards King of Scotland. The setting aside of this elder branch of his family, was most probably a condition of his new alliance, and his being received into favour with the dynasty he had always opposed. Nor were the laws of succession at this early period so clearly understood as to bar such trans- actions. The numerous and strange claims set up to the crown of Scotland, when vacant by the death of Alexander III, make it manifest how very little the indefeasible hereditary right of primogeniture was valued at that period. In fact, the title of the Bruces themselves to the crown, though justly the most popular, when assumed with the determination of asserting the independence of Scotland, was, upon pure principle, greatly inferior to that of Baliol. For Bruce, the competitor, claimed as son of Isabella, second daughter of David, Earl of Huntingdon ; and John Baliol, as grandson of Margaret, the elder daughter of that same earl. So that the plea of Bruce was founded upon the very loose idea, that as the great grandson of David I, King of Scotland, and the nearest collateral relation of Alexander III, he was entitled to succeed in exclusion of the great great grandson of the same David, though by an elder daughter. This maxim savoured of the ancient practice of Scotland, which often called a brother to succeed to the crown as nearer in blood than a grand-child, or even a son of a deceased monarch. But, in truth, the maxims of inheritance in Scotland were sometimes departed from at periods when they were much more distinctly understood. Such a transposition took place in the family of Hamilton, in 1513, when the descendants of James, third Lord, by Lady Janet Home, were set aside, with an appanage of great 515 NOTES value indeed, in order to call to the succession those which he had by a subsequent marriage with Janet Beatoun. In short, many other examples might be quoted to show that the ques- tion of legitimacy is not always determined by the fact of succession; and there seems reason to believe that Ronald, descendant of 'John of Ila,' by Ann of Lorn, was legitimate, and therefore Lord of the Isles de jure, though de facto his younger half-brother Donald, son of his father's second marriage with the Princess of Scotland, superseded him in his right, and apparently by his own consent. From this Donald so preferred is descended the family of Sleat, now Lords MacDonald. On the other hand, from Ronald, the excluded heir, upon whom a very large appanage was settled, descended the chiefs of Glen- gary and Clanronald, each of whom had large possessions, and a numerous vassalage, and boasted a long descent of warlike ancestry. Their common ancestor Ronald was murdered by the Earl of Ross, at the Monastery of Elcho, A.D. 1346. I believe it has been subject of fierce dispute, whether Donald, who carried on the line of Glengary, or Allan of Moidart, the ancestor of the captains of Clanronald, was the eldest son of Ronald, the son of John of Isla. A humble Lowlander may be permitted to waive the discussion, since a Sennachie of no small note, who wrote in the sixteenth century, expresses himself upon this delicate topic in the following words: — 'I have now given you an account of every thing you can expect of the descendants of the clan Colla, (i.e., the MacDon- alds,) to the death of Donald Du at Drogheda, namely, the true line of those who possessed the Isles, Ross, and the mountainous countries of Scotland. It was Donald, the son of Angus, that was killed at Inverness, by his (own harper Mac-i'Cairbre,) son of John of the Isles, son of Alexander, son of Donald, son of John, son of Angus Og. And I know not which of his kindred or relations is the true heir, except these five sons of John, the son of Angus Og, whom I here set down for you, namely, Ronald and Godfrey, the two sons of the daughter of MacDon- ald of Lorn, and Donald and John Mor, and Alexander Carrach, 516 NOTES the three sons of Margaret Stewart, daughter of Robert Stewart, King of Scotland.' {Leahhar Dearg.) Note 74, p. 242 The House of Lorn, as we observed in a former note, was, like the Lord of the Isles, descended from a son of Somerled, slain at Renfrew, in 1164. This son obtained the succession of his mainland territories, comprehending the greater part of the three districts of Lorn, in Argyleshire, and of course might rather be considered as petty princes than feudal barons. They assumed the patronymic appellation of MacDougal, by which they are distinguished in the history of the Middle Ages. The Lord of Lorn, who flourished during the wars of Bruce, was Allaster (or Alexander) MacDougal, called Allaster of Argyle. He had married the third daughter of John, called the Red Comyn,^ who was slain by Bruce in the Dominican Church at Dumfries, and hence he was a mortal enemy of that prince, and more than once reduced him to great straits during the early and distressed period of his reign, as we shall have repeated occasion to notice. Bruce, when he began to obtain an ascend- ency in Scotland, took the first opportunity in his power to requite these injuries. He marched into Argyleshire to lay waste the country'. John of Lorn, son of the chieftain, was posted with his followers in the formidable pass between Dal- mally and Bunawe. It is a narrow path along the verge of the huge and precipitous mountain, called Cruachan-Ben, and guarded on the other side by a precipice overhanging Loch Awe. The pass seems to the eye of a soldier as strong, as it is ' The aunt, according to Lord Hailes. But the genealogy Is distinctly given by Wyntoun: — The thryd douchtyr of Red Cwmyn, Alysawndyr of Argayle syne Tuk, and weddyt til hys wyf. And on hyr he gat in-til hys K-fe Jhon of Lome, the quhilk gat Ewyn of Lome eftyr that. Wyntoun's Chronide, book viii, chap, vi, 1. 206. NOTES wild and romantic to that of an ordinary traveller. But the skill of Bruce had anticipated this difficulty. While his main body, engaged in a skirmish with the men of Lorn, detained their attention to the front of their position, James of Douglas, with Sir Alexander Fraser, Sir William Wiseman, and Sir Andrew Grey, ascended the mountain with a select body of archery, and obtained possession of the heights which commanded the pass. A volley of arrows descending upon them directly warned the Argyleshire men of their perilous situation, and their resistance, which had hitherto been bold and manly, was changed into a precipitate flight. The deep and rapid river of Awe was then (we learn the fact from Barbour with some surprise) crossed by a bridge. This bridge the mountaineers attempted to demolish, but Bruce's followers were too close upon their rear; they were therefore, without refuge and defence, and were dispersed with great slaughter. John of Lorn, suspicious of the event, had early betaken himself to the galleys which he had upon the lake; but the feelings which Barbour assigns to him, while witnessing the rout and slaughter of his followers, excul- pate him from the charge of cowardice. To Jhone off Lome it suld displese I trow, Quhen he his men mycht se, Ovvte off his schippis fra the se, Be slayne and chassyt in the hill. That he mycht set na help thar till. Bot it angrys als gretumly, To gud hartis that ar worthi, To se thair fayis fulfill thair will .'^s to thaim selff to thole the ill. — Book vii, v. 394. After this decisive engagement, Bruce laid waste Argyleshire, and besieged Dunstaffnage Castle, on the western shore of Lorn, compelled it to surrender, and placed in that principal strong- hold of the MacDougals a garrison and governor of his own. The elder MacDougal, now wearied with the contest, submitted to the victor; but his son, 'rebellious,' says Barbour, 'as he wont to be,' fled to England by sea. When the wars between the Bruce and Baliol factions again broke out in the reign of David II, the Lords of Lorn were again found upon the losing side, 518 NOTES owing to their hereditary enmity to the house of Bruce. Ac- cordingly, upon the issue of that contest, they were deprived by David II and his successor of by far the greater part of their extensive territories, which were conferred upon Stewart, called the Knight of Lorn. The house of MacDougal continued, how- ever, to survive the loss of power, and affords a very rare, if not a unique, instance of a family of such unlimited power, and so distinguished during the Middle Ages, surviving the decay of their grandeur, and flourishing in a private station. The Castle of Dunolly, near Oban, with its dependencies, was the principal part of what remained to them, with their right of chieftainship over the families of their name and blood. These they continued to enjoy until the year 1715, when the representative incurred the penalty of forfeiture, for his accession to the insurrection of that period ; thus losing the remains of his inheritance, to replace upon the throne the descendants of those princes, whose acces- sion his ancestors had opposed at the expense of their feudal grandeur. The estate was, however, restored about 1745, to the father of the present proprietor, whom family experience had taught the hazard of interfering with the established govern- ment, and who remained quiet upon that occasion. He therefore regained his property when many Highland chiefs lost theirs. Nothing can be more wildly beautiful than the situation of Dunolly. The ruins are situated upon a bold and precipitous promontory, overhanging Loch Etive, and distant about a mile from the village and port of Oban. The principal part which remains is the donjon or keep; but fragments of other buildings, overgrown with ivy, attest that it had been once a place of importance, as large apparently as Artornish or Dunstaffnage. These fragments enclose a courtyard, of which the keep probably formed one side; the entrance being by a steep ascent from the neck of the isthmus, formerly cut across by a moat, and defended doubtless by outworks and a draw- bridge. Beneath the castle stands the present mansion of the family, having on the one hand Loch Etive, with its islands and mountains, on the other two romantic eminences tufted with 519 NOTES copsewood. There are other accompaniments suited to the scene; in particular, a huge upright pillar, or detached fragment of that sort of rock called plum-pudding stone, upon the shore, about a quarter of a mile from the castle. It is called * Clachna- cau,' or the Dog's Pillar, because Fingal is said to have used it as a stake to which he bound his celebrated dog Bran. Others say, that when the Lord of the Isles came upon a visit to the Lord of Lorn, the dogs brought for his sport were kept beside this pillar. Upon the whole, a more delightful and romantic spot can scarce be conceived; and it receives a moral interest from the considerations attached to the residence of a family once powerful enough to confront and defeat Robert Bruce, and now sunk into the shade of private life. It is at present pos- sessed by Patrick MacDougal, Esq., the lineal and undisputed representative of the ancient Lords of Lorn. The heir of Dunolly fell lately in Spain, fighting under the Duke of Well- ington, — a death well becoming his ancestry. Note 75, p. 250 The phenomenon called by sailors ' Sea-Fire ' is one of the most beautiful and interesting which is witnessed in the Hebrides. At times the ocean appears entirely illuminated around the vessel, and a long train of lambent coruscations are perpetually bursting upon the sides of the vessel, or pursuing her wake through the darkness. These phosphoric appearances, concern- ing the origin of which naturalists are not agreed in opinion, seem to be called into action by the rapid motion of the ship through the water, and are probably owing to the water being saturated with fish-spawn, or other animal substances. They remind one strongly of the description of the sea-snakes in Mr. Coleridge's wild, but highly poetical ballad of the Ancient Mariner : — Beyond the shadow of the ship I watch'd the water-snakes, They moved in tracks of shining white. And when they rear'd, the elvish Hght Fell off in hoary flakes. 520 I NOTES Note 76, p. 252 The fortress of a Hebridean chief was almost always on the sea-shore, for the facility of communication which the ocean afforded. Nothing can be more wild than the situations which they chose, and the devices by which the architects endeavoured to defend them. Narrow stairs and arched vaults were the usual mode of access; and the drawbridge appears at Dunstaff- nage, and elsewhere, to have fallen from the gate of the building to the top of such a staircase; so that any one advancing with hostile purpose, found himself in a state of exposed and pre- carious elevation, with a gulf between him and the object of his attack. These fortresses were guarded with equal care. The duty of the watch devolved chiefly upon an ofificer called the Cockman, who had the charge of challenging all who approached the castle. The very ancient family of MacNiel of Barra kept this attendant at their castle about a hundred years ago. Martin gives the following account of the difficulty which attended his procuring entrance there: 'The little island Kismul lies about a quarter of a mile from the south of this isle (Barra) ; it is the seat of Mackneil of Barra; there is a stone wall round it two stories high, reaching the sea; and within the wall there is an old tower and an hall, with other houses about it. There is a little magazine in the tower, to which no stranger has access. I saw the ofificer called the Cockman, and an old cock he is; when I bid him ferry me over the water to the island, he told me that he was but an inferior ofificer, his business being to attend in the tower; but if (says he) the constable, who then stood on the wall, will give you access, I '11 ferry you over. I desired him to procure me the constable's permission, and I would reward him; but having waited some hours for the con- stable's answer, and not receiving any, I was obliged to return without seeing this famous fort. Mackneil and his lady being absent, was the cause of this difficulty, and of my not seeing the place. I was told some weeks after, that the constable was very 521 NOTES apprehensive of some design I might have in viewing the fort, and thereby to expose it to the conquest of a foreign power; of which I supposed there was no great cause of fear.' Note 77, p. 260 Sir Egidius, or Giles de Argentine, was one of the most accomplished knights of the period. He had served in the wars of Henry of Luxemburg with such high reputation, that he was, in popular estimation, the third worthy of the age. Those to whom fame assigned precedence over him were, Henry of Luxemburg himself, and Robert Bruce. Argentine had warred in Palestine, encountered thrice with the Saracens, and had slain two antagonists in each engagement: — an easy matter, he said, for one Christian knight to slay two Pagan dogs. His death corresponded with his high character. With Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, he was appointed to attend immedi- ately upon the person of Edward II at Bannockburn. When the day was utterly lost they forced the king from the field. De Argentine saw the king safe from immediate danger, and then took his leave of him; 'God be with you, sir,' he said, 'it is not my wont to fly.' So saying, he turned his horse, cried his war- cry, plunged into the midst of the combatants, and was slain. Baston, a rhyming monk who had been brought by Edward to celebrate his expected triumph, and who was compelled by the victors to compose a poem on his defeat, mentions with some feeling the death of Sir Giles de Argentine: — Nobilis Argenten, pugil inclyte, dulcis Egidi, Vix scieram mentem cum te succumbere vidi. 'The first line mentions the three chief requisites of a true knight, noble birth, valour, and courteousness. Few Leonine couplets can be produced that have so much sentiment. I wish that I could have collected more ample memorials concerning a character altogether different from modern manners. Sir Giles d'Argentine was a hero of romance in real life.' So observes the excellent Lord Hailes. 522 NOTES Note 78, p. 261 A Hebridean drinking-cup, of the most ancient and curious workmanship, has been long preserved in the Castle of Dun- vegan, in Skye, the romantic seat of MacLeod of MacLeod, the chief of that ancient and powerful clan. The horn of Rorie More, preserved in the same family, and recorded by Dr. Johnson, is not to be compared with this piece of antiquity, which is one of the greatest curiosities in Scotland. The follow- ing is a pretty accurate description of its shape and dimensions, but cannot, I fear, be perfectly understood without a drawing. This very curious piece of antiquity is nine inches and three quarters in inside depth, and ten and a half in height on the out- side, the extreme measure over the lips being four inches and a half. The cup is divided into two parts by a wrought ledge, beautifully ornamented, about three-fourths of an inch in breadth. Beneath this ledge the shape of the cup is rounded off, and terminates in a fiat circle, like that of a teacup; four short feet support the whole. Above the projecting ledge the shape of the cup is nearly square, projecting outward at the brim. The cup is made of wood (oak to all appearance), but most curiously wrought and embossed with silver work, which projects from the vessel. There are a number of regular projecting sockets, which appear to have been set with stones; two or three of them still hold pieces of coral, the rest are empty. At the four corners of the projecting ledge, or cornice, are four sockets, much larger, probably for pebbles or precious stones. The workmanship of the silver is extremely elegant, and appears to have been highly gilded. The ledge, brim, and legs of the cup, are of silver. The family tradition bears that it was the property of Neil Ghlune- dhu, or Black-knee. But who this Neil was, no one pretends to say. Around the edge of the cup is a legend, perfectly legible, in the Saxon black-letter, which seems to run thus: — afo : laW : JUaicft : || iHiign : pncipi^ : ©c : 11 $?r : Q^anae : SEicb : 11 Hiabia : MQtiJntil : 11 €t : ;§>pat : ©0 : Jhu : ©a : 11 Cica : JUDra Jpa : || /Fecit : ?tno : 53i : Jr : 93o <©nili : ©imi : 11 523 NOTES The inscription may run thus at length: Ufo Johanis Mich Magni Principis de Ilr Manae Vich Liahia Magryneil et sperat Domino Ihesu dari clementiam illorum opera. Fecit Anno Domini QQj Onili Oimi. Which may run in English: Ufo, the son of John, the son of Magnus, Prince of Man, the grandson of Liahia Macgryneil, trusts in the Lord Jesus that their works (i.e., his own and those of his ancestors) will obtain mercy. Oneil Oimi made this in the year of God nine hundred and ninety-three. But this version does not include the puzzling letters hr before the word Manae. Within the mouth of the cup the let- ters SW» (Jesus) are repeated four times. From this and other circumstances it would seem to have been a chalice. This cir- cumstance may perhaps account for the use of the two Arabic numerals 93. These figures were introduced by Pope Sylvester, A.D. 991, and might be used in a vessel formed for church service so early as 993. The workmanship of the whole cup is extremely elegant, and resembles, I am told, antiques of the same nature preserved in Ireland. The cups, thus elegantly formed, and highly valued, were by no means utensils of mere show. Martin gives the following account of the festivals of his time, and I have heard similar instances of brutality in the Lowlands at no very distant period. 'The manner of drinking used by the chief men of the Isles is called in their language Streah, i.e., a Round; for the company sat in a circle, the cup-bearer fill'd the drink round to them, and all was drank out, whatever the liquor was, whether strong or weak; they continued drinking sometimes twenty-four, some- times forty-eight hours: It was reckoned a piece of manhood to drink until they became drunk, and there were two men with a barrow attending punctually on such occasions. They stood at the door until some became drunk, and they carry 'd them upon the barrow to bed, and returned again to their post as long as any continued fresh, and so carried off the whole company, one by one, as they became drunk. Several of my acquaintance have beenwitnesses to thiscustomof drinking, but it is now abolished.' This savage custom was not entirely done away within this 524 NOTES last generation. I have heard of a gentleman who happened to be a water-drinker, and was permitted to abstain from the strong potations of the company. The bearers carried away one man after another, till no one was left but this Scottish Mirglip. They then came to do him the same good ofhce, which, however, he declined as unnecessary, and proposed to walk to his bedroom. It was a permission he could not obtain. Never such a thing had happened, they said, in the castle! that it was impossible but he must require their assistance, at any rate he must submit to receive it; and carried him off in the barrow accordingly. A classical penalty was sometimes imposed on those who baulked the rules of good fellowship by evading their share of the ban- quet. The same author continues: — 'Among persons of distinction it was reckoned an affront put upon any company to broach a piece of wine, ale, or aquavitae, and not to see it all drank out at one meeting. If any man chance to go out from the company, though but for a few min- utes, he is obliged, upon his return, and before he take his seat, to make an apology for his absence in rhyme ; which if he cannot perform, he is liable to such a share of the reckoning as the company thinks fit to impose: which custom obtains in many places still, and is called Bianchiz Bard, which, in their language, signifies the poet's congratulating the company.' Few cups were better, at least more actively, employed in the rude hospitality' of the period, than those of Dunvegan; one of which we have just described. There is in the Leabhar Dearg, a song, intimating the overflowing gratitude of a bard of Clan- Ronald, after the exuberance of a Hebridean festival at the patriarchal fortress of MacLeod. The translation being obvi- ously very literal, has greatly flattened, as I am informed, the enthusiastic gratitude of the ancient bard; and it must be owned that the works of Homer or Virgil, to say nothing of MacVuirich, might have suffered by their transfusion through such a medium. It is pretty plain, that when the tribute of poetical praise was bestowed, the horn of Rorie More had not been inactive. 525 NOTES Upon Sir Roderic Mor Macleod, by Niall Mor Mac Vuirich. 'The six nights I remained in the Dunvegan, it was not a show of hospitality I met with there, but a plentiful feast in thy fair hall among thy numerous host of heroes. 'The family placed all around under the protection of their great chief, raised by his prosperity and respect for his warlike feats, now enjoying the company of his friends at the feast, — Amidst the sound of harps, overflowing cups, and happy youth unaccustomed to guile, or feud, partaking of the generous fare by a flaming fire. 'Mighty Chief, liberal to all in your princely mansion, filled with your numerous warlike host, whose generous wine would overcome the hardiest heroes, yet we continued to enjoy the feast, so happy our host, so generous our fare.' (Translated by D. Macintosh.) It would be unpardonable in a modern bard, who has experi- enced the hospitality of Dunvegan Castle in the present day, to omit paying his own tribute of gratitude for a reception more elegant indeed, but not less kindly sincere, than Sir Roderick More himself could have aflforded. But Johnson has already described a similar scene in the same ancient patriarchal resi- dence of the Lords of MacLeod: 'Whatever is imaged in the wildest tales, if giants, dragons, and enchantment be excepted, would be felt by him, who, wandering in the mountains without a guide, or upon the sea without a pilot, should be carried, amidst his terror and uncertainty, to the hospitality and ele- gance of Raasay or Dunvegan.' Note 79, p. 263 The Sewer, to whom, rather than the Seneschal, the office of arranging the guests of an island chief appertained, was an officer of importance in the family of a Hebridean chief. ' Every family had commonly two stewards, which, in their language, were called Marischal Tach: the first of these served always at 526 NOTES home, and was obliged to be versed in the pedigree of all the tribes in the isles, and in the highlands of Scotland ; for it was his province to assign every man at table his seat according to his quality; and this was done without one word speaking, only by drawing a score with a white rod, which this Marischal had in his hand, before the person who was bid by him to sit down: and this was necessary to prevent disorder and contention ; and though the Marischal might sometimes be mistaken, the master of the family incurred no censure by such an escape; but this custom has been laid aside of late. They had also cup-bearers, who always filled and carried the cup round the company, and he himself always drank off the first draught. They had like- wise purse-masters, who kept their money. Both these officers had an hereditary right to their office in writing, and each of them had a town and land for his service : some of those rights I have seen fairly written on good parchment.' (Martin's Western Isles.) Note 8o, p. 265 It must be remembered by all who have read the Scottish history, that after he had slain Comyn at Dumfries, and asserted his right to the Scottish crown, Robert Bruce was reduced to the greatest extremity by the English and their adherents. He was crowned at Scone by the general consent of the Scottish barons, but his authority endured but a short time. According to the phrase said to have been used by his wife, he was for that year 'a summer king, but not a winter one.' On the 29th March, 1306, he was crowned king at Scone. Upon the 19th June, in the same year, he was totally defeated at Methven, near Perth; and his most important adherents, with few exceptions, were either executed or compelled to embrace the English interest, for safety of their lives and fortunes. After this disaster, his life was that of an outlaw, rather than a candi- date for monarchy. He separated himself from the females of his retinue, whom he sent for safety to the Castle of Kildrummie, in Aberdeenshire, where they afterward became captives to 527 NOTES England. From Aberdeenshire, Bruce retreated to the moun- tainous parts of Breadalbane, and approached the borders of Argyleshire. There, as mentioned in Note 74, and more fully in Note 81, he was defeated by the Lord of Lorn, who had assumed arms against him in revenge of the death of his relative, John the Red Comyn. Escaped from this peril, Bruce, with his few attendants, subsisted by hunting and fishing, until the weather compelled them to seek better sustenance and shelter than the Highland mountains afforded. With great difficulty they crossed, from Rowardennan probably, to the western banks of Lochlomond, partly in a miserable boat, and partly by swimming. The valiant and loyal Earl of Lennox, to whose territories they had now found their way, welcomed them with tears, but was unable to assist them to make an effectual head. The Lord of the Isles, then in possession of great part of Cantyre, received the fugitive monarch and future restorer of his coun- try's independence, in his Castle of Dunnaverty, in that district. But treason, says Barbour, was so general, that the King durst not abide there. Accordingly, with the remnant of his followers, Bruce embarked for Rath-Erin, or Rachrine, the Recina of Ptolemy, a small island, lying almost opposite to the shores of Ballycastle, on the coast of Ireland. The islanders at first fled from their new and armed guests, but upon some explanation submitted themselves to Bruce's sovereignty. He resided among them until'the approach of spring, [1306,] when he again returned to Scotland, with the desperate resolution to reconquer his kingdom, or perish in the attempt. The progress of his success, from its commencement to its completion, forms the brightest period in Scottish history. Note 81, p. 266 It has been generally mentioned in the preceding notes, that Robert Bruce, after his defeat at Methven, being hard pressed by the English, endeavoured, with the dispirited remnant of his followers, to escape from Breadalbane and the mountains of 528 NOTES Perthshire into the Argyleshire Highlands. But he was encoun- tered and repulsed, after a very severe engagement, by the Lord of Lorn. Bruce's personal strength and courage were never dis- played to greater advantage than in this conflict. There is a tradition in the family of the MacDougals of Lorn, that their chieftain engaged in personal battle with Bruce himself, while the latter was employed in protecting the retreat of his men ; that MacDougal was struck down by the king, whose strength of body was equal to his vigour of mind, and would have been slain on the spot, had not two of Lorn's vassals, a father and son, whom tradition terms MacKeoch, rescued him, by seizing the mantle of the monarch, and dragging him from above his adversary. Bruce rid himself of these foes by two blows of his redoubted battle-axe, but was so closely pressed by the other followers of Lorn, that he was forced to abandon the mantle, and broach which fastened it, clasped in the dying grasp of the MacKeochs. A studded broach, said to have been that which King Robert lost upon this occasion, was long preserved in the family of MacDougal, and was lost in a fire which consumed their temporary' residence. The metrical history of Barbour throws an air of credibility upon the tradition, although it does not entirely coincide either in the names or number of the vassals by whom Bruce was assailed, and makes no mention of the personal danger of Lorn, or of the loss of Bruce's mantle. The last circumstance, indeed, might be warrantably omitted. According to Barbour, the King, with his handful of follow- ers, not amounting probably to three hundred men, encountered Lorn with about a thousand Argyleshire men, in Glen-Douchart, at the head of Breadalbane, near Teyndrum. The place of action is still called Dairy, or the King's Field. The field of battle was unfavourable to Bruce's adherents, who were chiefly men-at-arms. Many of the horses were slain by the long pole- axes, of which the Argyleshire Scottish had learned the use from the Norwegians. At length Bruce commanded a retreat up a narrow and difficult pass, he himself bringing up the rear, and 49 529 NOTES repeatedly turning and driving back the more venturous assailants. Lorn, observing the skill and valour used by his enemy in protecting the retreat of his followers, 'Methinks, Murthokson,' said he, addressing one of his followers, 'he resembles Gol Mak-morn, protecting his followers from Fingal.' 'A most unworthy comparison,' observes the Archdeacon of Aberdeen, unsuspicious of the future fame of these names; ' he might with more propriety have compared the King to Sir Gaudefer de Layrs, protecting the foragers of Gadyrs against the attacks of Alexander.'^ Two brothers, the strongest among Lorn's followers, whose names Barbour calls Mackyn-Drosser (interpreted Durward, or Porterson), resolved to rid their chief of this formidable foe. A third person (perhaps the MacKeoch of the family tradition) associated himself with them for this purpose. They watched their opportunity until Bruce's party had entered a pass between a lake (Loch Dochart probably) and a precipice, where the King, who was the last of the party, had scarce room to manage his steed. Here his three foes sprung upon him at once. One seized his bridle, but received a wound which hewed off his arm; a second grasped Bruce by the stirrup and leg, and endeavoured to dismount him, but the King, put- ting spurs to his horse, threw him down, still holding by the stirrup. The third, taking advantage of an acclivity, sprung up behind him upon his horse. Bruce, however, whose personal strength is uniformly mentioned as exceeding that of most men, extricated himself from his grasp, threw him to the ground, and cleft his skull with his sword. By similar exertion he drew the stirrup from his grasp whom he had overthrown, and killed him also with his sword as he lay among the horse's feet. The story seems romantic, but this was the age of romantic exploit; and it must be remembered that Bruce was armed cap-a-pie, and the * * This is a very curious passage, and has been often quoted in the Ossianic controversy. That it refers to ancient Celtic tradition, there can be no doubt, and as httle that it refers to no incident in the poems published by Mr. Macpherson as from the Gaelic. The hero of romance, whom Barbour thinks a more proper prototype for the Bruce, occurs in the romance of Alexander, of which there is a unique translation into Scottish verse, in the library of the Honourable Mr. Maule of Panmure.' (See Weber's Romances, i, Appendi.^ to Introduction, Ixxiii.) NOTES assailants were half-clad mountaineers. Barbour adds the following circumstance, highly characteristic of the sentiments of chivalry. MacNaughton, a Baron of Cowal, pointed out to the Lord of Lorn the deeds of valour which Bruce performed in this memorable retreat, with the highest expressions of admira- tion. ' It seems to give thee pleasure,' said Lorn, * that he makes such havoc among our friends.' 'Not so, by my faith,' replied MacNaughton; 'but be he friend or foe who achieves high deeds of chivalry, men should bear faithful witness to his valour; and never have I heard of one, who, by his knightly feats, has extri- cated himself from such dangers as have this day surrounded Bruce.' Note 82, p. 266 Great art and expense was bestowed upon the fibula, or broach, which secured the plaid, when the wearer was a person of import- ance. Martin mentions having seen a silver broach of a hun- dred marks value. * It was broad as any ordinary pewter plate, the whole curiously engraven with various animals, etc. There was a lesser buckle, which was wore in the middle of the larger, and above two ounces weight; it had in the centre a large piece of cr>'stal, or some finer stone, and this was set all round with several finer stones of a lesser size.' {Western Islands.) Pennant has given an engraving of such a broach as Martin describes, and the workmanship of which is very elegant. It is said to have belonged to the family of Lochbuy. (See Pennant's Tour, iii, 14.) Note 83, p. 268 The gallant Sir James, called the Good Lord Douglas, the most faithful and valiant of Bruce's adherents, was wounded at the battle of Dairy. Sir Nigel, or Niel Campbell, was also in that unfortunate skirmish. He married Marjorie, sister to Robert Bruce, and was among his most faithful followers. In a manuscript account of the house of Argyle, supplied, it would seem, as materials for Archbishop Spottiswoode's History of 531 NOTES the Church of Scotland, I find the following passage concerning Sir Niel Campbell : ' Moreover, when all the nobles in Scotland had left King Robert after his hard success, yet this noble knight was most faithful, and shrinked not, as it is to be seen in an indenture bearing these words: " Memorandum quod cum ab incarnatione Domini ijo8 conventum fuit et concordatum inter nobiles viros Dominum Alexandrum de Seatoun militem et Domi'num Gilbertum de Haye militem et Dominum Nigellum Campbell militem apud monasterium de Cambuskenneth g° Septembris qui tacta sancta eucharista, magnoque juramento facto, jurarunt se debere libertatem regni et Robertum nuper regem coronatum contra omnes mortales Francos Anglos Scotos defendere usque ad ultimum terminum vitae ipsorum." Their sealles are appended to the indenture in greene wax, togithir with the seal of Gulfrid, Abbot of Cambuskenneth.' Note 84, p. 268 Every reader must recollect that the proximate cause of Bruce's asserting his right to the crown of Scotland, was the death of John, called the Red Comyn. The causes of this act of violence, equally extraordinary from the high rank both of the perpetrator and sufferer, and from the place where the slaughter was committed, are variously related by the Scottish and Eng- lish historians, and cannot now be ascertained. The fact that they met at the high altar of the Minorites, or Greyfriars Church in Dumfries, that their difference broke out into high and insult- ing language, and that Bruce drew his dagger and stabbed Comyn, is certain. Rushing to the door of the church, Bruce met two powerful barons, Kirkpatrick of Closeburn, and James de Lindsay, who eagerly asked him what tidings? ' Bad tidings,' answered Bruce, ' I doubt I have slain Comyn.' ' Doubtest thou?' said Kirkpatrick; *I make sicker' (i.e., sure). With these words, he and Lindsay rushed into the church, and despatched the wounded Comyn. The Kirkpatricks of Close- burn assumed, in memory of this deed, a hand holding a dagger, 532 NOTES with the memorable words, ' I make sicker.' Some doubt having been started by the late Lord Hailes as to the identity of the Kirkpatrick who completed this day's work with Sir Roger, then representative of the ancient family of Closeburn, my kind and ingenious friend, Mr. Charles Kirkpatricke Sharpe, has furnished me with the following memorandum, which appears to fix the deed with his ancestor: — 'The circumstances of the Regent Cummin's murder, from which the family of Kirkpatrick, in Nithsdale, is said to have derived its crest and motto, are well known to all conversant with Scottish history; but Lord Hailes has started a doubt as to the authenticity of this tradition, when recording the murder of Roger Kirkpatrick, in his own Castle of Caerlaverock, by Sir James Lindsay. "Fordun," says his Lordship, "remarks that Lindsay and Kirkpatrick were the heirs of the two men who accompanied Robert Brus at the fatal conference with Comyn. If Fordun was rightly informed as to this particular, an argu- ment arises, in support of a notion which I have long entertained, that the person who struck his dagger in Comyn's heart, was not the representative of the honourable family of Kirkpatrick in Nithsdale. Roger de K. was made prisoner at the battle of Durham, in 1346. Roger de Kirkpatrick was alive on the 6th of August, 1357; for, on that day, Humphry, the son and heir of Roger de K., is proposed as one of the young gentlemen who were to be hostages for David Bruce. Roger de K. Miles was present at the Parliament held at Edinburgh, 25th September, 1357, and he is mentioned as alive 3d October, 1357, (Fcedera;) it follows, of necessary consequence, that Roger de K., murdered in June, 1357, must have been a different person." {Annals of Scotland, 11, 242.) 'To this it may be answered, that at the period of the regent's murder, there were only two families of the name of Kirkpatrick (nearly allied to each other) in existence — Stephen Kirk- patrick, styled in the Chartulary of Kelso (1278) Dominus viUce de Closeburn, Filius et hceres Domini Ade de Kirkpatrick, Mililis (whose father, Ivone de Kirkpatrick, witnesses a charter of 533 NOTES Robert Brus, Lord of Annandale, before the year 1141), had two sons, Sir Roger, who carried on the line of Closeburn, and Duncan, who married Isobel, daughter and heiress of Sir David Torthorwald of that Ilk; they had a charter of the lands of Torthorwald from King Robert Brus, dated loth August, the year being omitted — Umphray, the son of Duncan and Isobel, got a charter of Torthorwald from the king, i6th July, 1322 — his son, Roger of Torthorwald, got a charter from John the Grahame, son of Sir John Grahame of Mosskessen, of an annual rent of 40 shillings, out of the lands of Overdryft, 1355 — his son, William Kirkpatrick, grants a charter to John of Garroch, of the twa merk land of Glengip and Garvellgill, within the tene- ment of Wamphray, 22d April, 1372. From this, it appears that the Torthorwald branch was not concerned in the aflfair of Comyn's murder, and the inflictions of Providence which ensued: Duncan Kirkpatrick, if we are to believe the Blind Minstrel, was the firm friend of Wallace, to whom he was related ; — Ane Kyrk Patrick, that cruel was and keyne. In Esdaill vvod that half yer he had beyne; With Ingliss men he couth nocht weyll accord. Off Torthorowald he Barron was and Lord, Off kyn he was, and Wallace modyr ner; etc. Book V, V. 920. But this Baron seems to have had no share in the adventures of King Robert; the crest of his. family, as it still remains on a carved stone built into a cottage wall, in the village of Torthor- wald, bears some resemblance, says Grose, to a rose. * Universal tradition, and all our later historians, have attrib- uted the regent's death-blow to Sir Roger K. of Closeburn. The author of the MS. History of the Presbytery of Penpont, in the Advocates' Library, afhrms. that the crest and motto were given by the king on that occasion; and proceeds to relate some cir- cumstances respecting a grant to a cottager and his wife in the vicinity of Closeburn Castle, which are certainly authentic, and strongly vouch for the truth of the other report. "The steep hill" (says he), "called the Dune of Tynron, of a considerable 534 NOTES height, upon the top of which there hath been some habitation or fort. There have been in ancient times, on all hands of it, very thick woods, and great about that place, which made it the more inaccessible, into which K. Ro. Bruce is said to have been conducted by Roger Kirkpatrick of Closeburn, after they had killed the Cumin at Dumfriess, which is nine miles from this place, whereabout it is probable that he did abide for some time hereafter; and it is reported, that during his abode there, he did often divert to a poor man's cottage, named Brownrig, situate in a small parcel of stoney ground, incompassed with thick woods, where he was content sometimes with such mean accommodation as the place could afford. The poor man's wife being advised to petition the king for somewhat, was so modest in her desires, that she sought no more but security for the croft in her husband's possession, and a liberty of pasturage for a very few cattle of different kinds on the hill, and the rest of the bounds. Of which priviledge that ancient family, by the injury of time, hath a long time been, and is, deprived : but the croft continues in the possession of the heirs and successours lineally descended of this Brownrig and his wife; so that this family, being more ancient than rich, doth yet continue in the name, and, as they say, retains the old charter." ' (MS. History of the Presbytery of Penpont, in the Advocates' Library of Edinburgh.) Note 85, p. 268 These knights are enumerated by Barbour among the small number of Bruce's adherents, who remained in arms with him after the battle of Methven. With him was a bold baron, Schyr William the Barouadoun; Schyr Gilbert de la Haye Eilsua. There were more than one of the noble family of Hay engaged in Bruce's cause; but the principal was Gilbert de la Haye, Lord of Errol, a stanch adherent to King Robert's interest, and whom 535 NOTES he rewarded by creating him hereditary Lord High Constable of Scotland, a title which he used i6th March, 1308, where, in a letter from the peers of Scotland to Philip the Fair of France, he is designed Gilbertus de Hay Constabularius Scotice. He was slain at the battle of Halidoun-Hill. Hugh de la Haye, his brother, was made prisoner at the battle of Methven. Note 86, p. 269 The character of the Highland bards, however high in an earlier period of society, seems soon to have degenerated. The Irish affirm, that in their kindred tribes severe laws became necessary to restrain their avarice. In the Highlands they seem gradually to have sunk into contempt, as well as the orators, or men of speech, with whose office that of family poet was often united. 'The orators, in their language called Isdane, were in high esteem both in these islands and the continent; until within these forty years, they sat always among the nobles and chiefs of families in the streah, or circle. Their houses and little villages were sanctuaries, as well as churches, and they took place before doctors of physick. The orators, after the Druids were extinct, were brought in to preserve the genealogy of families, and to repeat the same at every succession of chiefs; and upon the occasion of marriages and births, they made epithalamiums and panegyricks, which the poet or bard pronounced. The orators, by the force of their eloquence, had a powerful ascendant over the greatest men in their time; for if any orator did but ask the habit, arms, horse, or any other thing belonging to the greatest man in these islands, it was readily granted them, sometimes out of respect, and sometimes for fear of being exclaimed against by a satyre, which, in those days, was reckoned a great dishon- our. But these gentlemen becoming insolent, lost ever since both the profit and esteem which was formerly due to their char- acter; for neither their panegyricks nor satyres are regarded to what they have been, and they are now allowed but a small salary. I must not omit to relate their way of study, which is 536 NOTES very singular: They shut their doors and windows for a day's time, and lie on their backs, with a stone upon their belly, and plads about their heads, and their eyes being covered, they pump their brains for rhetorical encomium or panegyrick; and indeed they furnish such a style from this dark cell as is under- stood by very few; and if they purchase a couple of horses as the reward of their meditation, they think they have done a great matter. The poet, or bard, had a title to the bridegroom's upper garb, that is, the plad and bonnet; but now he is satisfyed with what the bridegroom pleases to give him on such occasions.' (Martin's Western Isles.) Note 87, p. 278 It was anciently customary in the Highlands to bring the bride to the house of the husband. Nay, in some cases the com- plaisance was stretched so far, she remained there upon trial for a twelvemonth; and the bridegroom, even after this period of cohabitation, retained an option of refusing to fulfil his engage- ment. It is said that a desperate feud ensued between the clans of MacDonald of Sleate and MacLeod, owing to the former chief having availed himself of this license to send back to Dunvegan a sister, or daughter of the latter. MacLeod, resent- ing the indignity, observed, that since there was no wedding bonfire, there should be one to solemnize the divorce. Accord- ingly, he burned and laid waste the territories of MacDonald, who retaliated, and a deadly feud, with all its accompaniments, took place in form. Note 88, p. 279. Stow gives the following curious account of the trial and execution of this celebrated patriot: 'William Wallace, who had oft-times set Scotland in great trouble, was taken and brought to London, with great numbers of men and women wondering upon him. He was lodged in the house of William Delect, a citizen of London, in Fenchurch Street. On the morrow, being the eve of St. Bartholomew, he was brought on horseback to 537 NOTES Westminster. John Legrave and Geffrey, knights, the mayor, sheriffs, and aldermen of London, and many others, both on horseback and on foot, accompanying him; and in the great hall at Westminster, he being placed on the south bench, crowned with laurel, for that he had said in times past that he ought to bear a crown in that hall, as it was commonly reported; and being appeached for a traitor by Sir Peter Malorie, the king's justice, he answered, that he was never traitor to the King of England; but for other things whereof he was accused he confessed them ; and was after headed and quartered.' (Stow, Chronicles, p. 209.) There is something singularly doubtful about the mode in which Wallace was taken. That he was betrayed to the English is indubitable; and popular fame charges Sir John Menteith with the indelible infamy. 'Accursed,' says Arnold Blair, 'be the day of nativity of John de Menteith, and may his name be struck out of the book of life.' But John de Menteith was all along a zealous favourer of the English interest, and was governor of Dumbarton Castle by commission from Edward the First; and therefore, as the accurate Lord Hailes has observed, could not be the friend and confidant of Wallace, as tradition states him to be. The truth seems to be, that Menteith, thoroughly engaged in the English interest, pursued Wallace closely, and made him prisoner through the treachery of an attendant, whom Peter Langtoft calls Jack Short. William Waleis is nomen that master was of theves, Tiding to the king is comen that robbery mischeives. Sir John of Menetest sued William so nigh. He tok him when he ween'd least, on night, his leman him by, That was through treason of Jack Short, his man, He was the encheson that Sir John so him ran. Jack's brother had he slain, the Walleis that is said. The more Jack was fain to do William that braid. From this it would appear that the infamy of seizing Wallace, must rest between a degenerate Scottish nobleman, the vassal of England, and a domestic, the obscure agent of his treachery; between Sir John Menteith, son of Walter, Earl of Menteith, and the traitor Jack Short. NOTES Note 89, p. 279 When these lines were written, the author was remote from the means of correcting his indistinct recollection concerning the individual fate of Bruce's followers, after the battle of Methven. Hugh de la Haye, and Thomas Somerville, of Lintoun and Cowdally, ancestor of Lord Somerville, were both made prisoners at that defeat, but neither was executed. Sir Nigel Bruce was the younger brother of Robert, to whom he committed the charge of his wife and daughter, Marjorie, and the defense of his strong castle of Kildrummie, near the head of the Don, in Aberdeenshire. Kildrummie long resisted the arms of the Earls of Lancaster and Hereford, until the magazine was treacherously burnt. The garrison was then compelled to surrender at discretion, and Nigel Bruce, a youth remarkable for personal beauty, as well as for gallantry, fell into the hands of the unrelenting Edward. He was tried by a special commission at Berwick, was condemned, and executed. Christopher Seatoun shared the same unfortunate fate. He also was distinguished by personal valour, and signalised him- self in the fatal battle of Methven. Robert Bruce adventured his person in that battle like a knight of romance. He dis- mounted Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, but was in his turn dismounted by Sir Philip Mowbray. In this emergence Seatoun came to his aid, and remounted him. Langtoft men- tions, that in this battle the Scottish wore white surplices, or shirts, over their armour, that those of rank might not be known. In this manner both Bruce and Seatoun escaped. But the latter was afterwards betrayed to the English, through means, accord- ing to Barbour, of one MacNab, 'a disciple of Judas,' in whom the unfortunate knight reposed entire confidence. There was some peculiarity respecting his punishment; because, according to Matthew of Westminster, he was considered not as a Scot- tish subject, but an Englishman. He was therefore taken to Dumfries, where he was tried, condemned, and executed, for the murder of a soldier slain by him. His brother, John de Seton, 539 NOTES had the same fate at Newcastle; both were considered as accomplices in the slaughter of Comyn, but in what manner they were particularly accessary to that deed does not appear. The fate of Sir Simon Frazer, or Frizel, ancestor of the family of Lovat, is dwelt upon at great length, and with savage exulta- tion, by the English historians. This knight, who was renowned for personal gallantry, and high deeds of chivalry, was also made prisoner, after a gallant defence, in the battle of Methven. Some stanzas of a ballad of the times, which, for the sake of rendering it intelligible, I have translated out of its rude ortho- graphy, give minute particulars of his fate. It was written immediately at the period, for it mentions the Earl of Athole as not yet in custody. It was first published by the indefatigable Mr. Ritson, but with so many contractions and peculiarities of character, as to render it illegible, excepting by antiquaries. This was before Saint Bartholomew's mass. That Frizel was y-taken, were it more other less, To Sir Thomas of Multon, gentil baron and free. And to Sir Johan Jose be-take tho was he To hand He was y-fettered wele Both with iron and with steel To bringen of Scotland. Soon thereafter the tiding to the king come. He sent him to London, with mony armed groom, He came in at Newgate, I tell you it on a-plight, A garland of leaves on his head y-dight Of green. For he should be y-know Both of high and of low, For traitour I ween. Y-fettered were his legs under his horse's wombe, Both with iron and with steel mancled were his bond, A garland of pervynk' set upon his heved,^ Much was the power that him was bereved. In land. So God me amend, Little he ween'd So to be brought in hand. This was upon our lady's even, forsooth I understand, The justices sate for the knights of Scotland, « Periwinckle. ' Head. S40 NOTES Sir Thomas of Multon, an kinde knyght and wise, And Sir Ralpli of Sandwich that mickle is told in price, And Sir Johan Abel, Moe I might tell by tale Both of great and of small Ye know sooth well. Then said the justice, that gentil is and free. Sir Simond Frizel the king's traiter hast thou be; In water and in land that mony mighten see, What sayst thou thereto, how will thou quite thee. Do say. So foul he him wist, Nede war on trust For to say nay. With fetters and with gives * y-hot he was to-draw From the Tower of London that many men might know. In a kirtle of burel, a selcouth wise. And a garland on his head of the new guise. Through Cheape Many men of England For to see Symond Thitherward can leap. Though he cam to the gallows first he was on hung. All quick beheaded that him thought long; Then he was y-opened, his bowels y-brend,' The heved to London-bridge was send To shende. So evermore mote I the. Some while weened he Thus httle to stand.' He rideth through the city, as I tell may. With gamen and with solace that was their play. To London-bridge he took the way, Mony was the wives child that thereon lacketh a day,* And said, alas! That he was y-born And so vilely forlorn. So fair man he was.' Now standeth the heved above the tu-brigge. Fast by Wallace sooth for to segge; After succour of Scotland long may he pry, And after help of France what halt it to lie, I ween. Better him were in Scotland, With his axe in his hand. To play on the green, etc. • He was condemned to be drawn. ' Burned. ' Meaning, at one time he little thought to stand thus. * Namely, Saith Lack-a-day. » The gallant knight, like others in the same situation, was pitied by the female apectators as ' a proper young man.' S4I NOTES The preceding stanzas contain probably as minute an account as can be found of the trial and execution of state criminals of the period. Superstition mingled its horrors with those of a ferocious state policy, as appears from the following singular narrative. 'The Friday next, before the assumption of Our Lady, King Edward met Robert the Bruce at Saint Johnstoune, in Scotland, and with his company, of which company King Edward quelde seven thousand. When Robert the Bruce saw this mischief, and gan to flee, and hov'd him that men might not him find; but S. Simond Frisell pursued was so sore, so that he turned again and abode bataille, for he was a worthy knight and a bolde of bodye, and the Englishmen pursuede him sore on every side, and quelde the steed that Sir Simon Frisell rode upon, and then toke him and led him to the host. And S. Symond began for to flatter and speke fair, and saide, Lordys, I shall give you four thousand markes of silver, and myne horse and harness, and all my armoure and income. Tho' answered Thobaude of Pevenes, that was the kinges archer. Now, God me so helpe, it is for nought that thou speakest, for all the gold of England I would not let thee go without commandment of King Edward. And tho' he was led to the King, and the King would not see him, but commanded to lead him away to his doom in London, on Our Lady's even nativity. And he was hung and drawn, and his head smitten off, and hanged again with chains of iron upon the gallows, and his head was set at London-bridge upon a spear, and against Christmas the body was burnt, for encheson (reason) that the men that keeped the body saw many devils ramping with iron crooks, running upon the gallows, and hor- ribly tormenting the body. And many that them saw, anon thereafter died for dread, or waxen mad, or sore sickness they had.' (MS. Chronicle in the British Museum, quoted by Ritson.) Note 90, p. 280 John de Strathbogie, Earl of Athole, had attempted to escape out of the kingdom, but a storm cast him upon the coast, when 542 i NOTES he was taken, sent to London, and executed, with circumstances of great barbarity, being first half strangled, then let down from the gallows while yet alive, barbarously dismembered, and his body burnt. It may surprise the reader to learn, that this was a mitigated punishment; for in respect that his mother was a grand-daughter of King John, by his natural son Richard, he was not drawn on a sledge to execution, 'that point was for- given,' and he made the passage on horseback. Matthew of Westminster tells us that King Edward, then extremely ill, received great ease from the news that his relative was appre- hended. 'Quo audita, Rex Anglice, etsi gravissimo morbo tunc langueret, levius tamen tulit dolorem.' To this singular expression the text alludes. Note 91, p. 280 This alludes to a passage in Barbour, singularly expressive of the vindictive spirit of Edward I. The prisoners taken at the castle of Kildrummie had surrendered upon condition that they should be at King Edward's disposal. 'But his will,' says Bar- bour, 'was always evil towards Scottishmen.' The news of the surrender of Kildrummie arrived when he was in his mortal sickness at Burgh-upon-Sands. And when he to the death was near. The folk that at Kyldromy wer Come with prisoners that they had tane. And syne to the king are gane. And for to comfort him they tauld How they the castell to them yauld; And how they till his will were brought. To do off that whatever he thought; And ask'd what men should off them do. Then look'd he angryly them to, He said, grinning, ' hangs and draws.' That was wonder of sic saws, That he, that to the death was near. Should answer upon sic maner, Forouten moaning and mercy; How might he trust on him to cry. That sooth-fastly dooms all thing To have mercy for his crying, Off him that, throw his felony. Into sic point had no mercy? 543 NOTES There was much truth in the Leonine couplet, with which Mat- thew of Westminster concludes his encomium on the first Edward : — Scotos Edwardus, dum vixit, suppeditavit, Tenuit, aiflixit, depressit, dilaniavit. Note 92, p. 280 The MacLeods, and most other distinguished Hebridean families, were of Scandinavian extraction, and some were late or imperfect converts to Christianity. The family names of Torquil, Thormod, etc., are all Norwegian. Note 93, p. 283 Bruce uniformly professed, and probably felt, compunction for having violated the sanctuary of the church by the slaughter of Comyn; and finally, in his last hours, in testimony of his faith, penitence, and zeal, he requested James Lord Douglas, to carry his heart to Jerusalem, to be there deposited in the Holy Sepulchre. Note 94, p. 284 So soon as the notice of Comyn's slaughter reached Rome, Bruce and his adherents were excommunicated. It was published first by the Archbishop of York, and renewed at different times, particularly by Lambyrton, Bishop of Saint Andrews, in 1308; but it does not appear to have answered the purpose which the English monarch expected. Indeed, for reasons which it may be difficult to trace, the thunders of Rome descended upon the Scottish mountains with less eflfect than in more fertile countries. Probably the comparative poverty of the benefices occasioned that fewer foreign clergy settled in Scotland ; and the interests of the native churchmen were linked with that of their country. Many of the Scottish prelates, Lambyrton the primate particu- larly, declared for Bruce, while he was yet under the ban of the church, although he afterwards again changed sides. 544 NOTES Note 95, p. 284 Bruce, like other heroes, observed omens, and one is recorded by tradition. After he had retreated to one of the miserable places of shelter, in which he could venture to take some repose after his disasters, he lay stretched upon a handful of straw, and abandoned himself to his melancholy meditations. He had now been defeated four times, and was upon the point of resolv- ing to abandon all hopes of further opposition to his fate, and to go to the Holy Land. It chanced his eye, while he was thus pondering, was attracted by the exertions of a spider, who, in order to fix his web, endeavoured to swing himself from one beam to another above his head. Involuntarily he became interested in the pertinacity with which the insect renewed his exertions, after failing six times; and it occurred to him that he would decide his own course according to the success or failure of the spider. At the seventh effort the insect gained his object: and Bruce, in like manner, persevered and carried his own. Hence it has been held unlucky or ungrateful, or both, in one of the name of Bruce to kill a spider. The archdeacon of Aberdeen, instead of the abbot of this tale, introduces an Irish Pythoness, who not only predicted his good fortune as he left the is'and of Rachrin, but sent her two sons along with him, to ensure her own family a share in it. Then in schort time men mycht thaim se Schute all thair galayis to the se. And ber to se baith ayr and ster, And othyr thingis that mystir * wer. And as the king apon the sand Wes gangand wp and doun, bidand' Till that his menye redy war. His ost come rycht till him thar. And quhen that scho him halyst had. And priwe spek till him scho made; And said, ' Takis gud kep till my saw: For or ye pass I sail yow schaw, Off your fortoun a gret party. Bot our all speceally A wyttring her I sail yow ma, Quhat end that your purposs sail ta. 1 Need. » Abiding. " 545 NOTES For in this land is nane trewly Wate thingis to cum sa weill as I. Ye pass now forth on your wiage, To wenge the harme, and the owtrag, That Ingliss men has to yow done; Bot ye wat nocht quhatkyne forton Ye mon drey in your werraying. Bot wyt ye weill, with outyn lesing, That fra ye now haifif takyn land, Nane sa mychty, na sa strenth thi of hand. Sail ger yow pass owt of your countre Till all to yow abandownyt be. With in schort tyme ye sail be king. And haiff the land at your liking, And ourcum your fayis all. Bot fele anoyis thole ye sail. Or that your purposs end haiff tane: Bot ye sail thaim ourdryve ilkane. And, that ye trow this sekyrly. My twa sonnys with yow sail I Send to tak part of your trawaill; For I wate weill thai sail nocht faill To be rewardyt weill at rycht, Quhen ye ar heyit to yowr mycht.' Barbour's Bruce, book in, v. 856. Note 96, p. 285 This is not metaphorical. The echoes of Scotland did actually With the bloodhounds that bayed for her fugitive king. A very curious and romantic tale is told by Barbour upon this subject, which may be abridged as follows: — When Bruce had again got footing in Scotland in the spring of 1306, he continued to be in a very weak and precarious con- dition, gaining, indeed, occasional advantages, but obliged to fly before his enemies whenever they assembled in force. Upon one occasion, while he was lying with a small party in the wilds of Cumnock, in Ayrshire, Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, with his inveterate foe John of Lorn, came against him suddenly with eight hundred Highlanders, besides a large body of men- at-arms. They brought with them a slough-dog, or bloodhound, which, some say, had been once a favourite with the Bruce him- self, and therefore was least likely to lose the trace. 546 NOTES Bruce, whose force was under four hundred men, continued to make head against the cavalry, till the men of Lorn had nearly cut off his retreat. Perceiving the danger of his situation, he acted as the celebrated and ill-requited Mina is said to have done in similar circumstances. He divided his force into three parts, appointed a place of rendezvous, and commanded them to retreat by different routes. But when John of Lorn arrived at the spot where they divided, he caused the hound to be put upon the trace, which immediately directed him to the pursuit of that party which Bruce headed. This, therefore, Lorn pur- sued with his whole force, paying no attention to the others. The king again subdivided his small body into three parts, and with the same result, for the pursuers attached themselves exclusively to that which he led in person. He then paused his followers to disperse, and retained only his foster-brother in his company. The slough-dog followed the trace, and, neglecting the others, attached himself and his attendants to pursuit of the king. Lorn became convinced that his enemy was nearly in his power, and detached five of his most active attendants to follow him, and interrupt his flight. They did so with all the agility of mountaineers. 'What aid wilt thou make?' said Bruce to his single attendant, when he saw the five men gain ground on him. 'The best I can,' replied his foster-brother. 'Then,' said Bruce, 'here I make my stand.' The five pursuers came up fast. The king took three to himself, leaving the other two to his foster- brother. He slew the first who encountered him; but observing his foster-brother hard pressed, he sprung to his assistance, and despatched one of his assailants. Leaving him to deal with the survivor, he returned upon the other two, both of whom he slew before his foster-brother had despatched his single antagonist. When this hard encounter was over, with a courtesy, which in the whole work marks Bruce's character, he thanked his foster- brother for his aid. ' It likes you to say so,' answered his follower; 'but you yourself slew four of the five.' 'True,' said the King, 'but only because I had better opportunity than you. They were not apprehensive of me when they saw me encounter three, 547 NOTES so I had a moment's time to spring to thy aid, and to return equally unexpectedly upon my own opponents.' In the meanwhile Lorn's party approached rapidly, and the king and his foster-brother betook themselves to a neighbouring wood. Here they sat down, for Bruce was exhausted by fatigue, until the cry of the slough-hound came so near, that his foster- brother entreated Bruce to provide for his safety by retreating further. 'I have heard,' answered the King, 'that whosoever will wade a bow-shot length down a running stream, shall make the slough-hound lose scent. — Let us try the experiment, for were yon devilish hound silenced, I should care little for the rest.' Lorn in the meanwhile advanced, and found the bodies of his slain vassals, over whom he made his moan, and threatened the most deadly vengeance. Then he followed the hound to the side of the brook, down which the King had waded a great way. Here the hound was at fault, and John of Lorn, after long at- tempting in vain to recover Bruce's trace, relinquished the pursuit. 'Others,' says Barbour, 'afifirm, that upon this occasion the king's life was saved by an excellent archer who accompanied him, and who perceiving they would be finally taken by means of the blood-hound, hid himself in a thicket, and shot him with an arrow. In which way,' adds the metrical biographer, 'this escape happened I am uncertain, but at that brook the king escaped from his pursuers.' Quhen the chasseris relyit war, And Jhon of Lorn had met thaim thar. He tauld Schyr Aymer all the cass How that the king eschapyt wass; And how that he his five men slew, And syne to the wode him drew. Quhen Schyr Aymer herd this, in hy He sanyt him for the ferly: And said; ' He is gretly to pryss; For I knaw nane that liffand is. That at myscheyff gan help him swa. I trow he suld be hard to sla, And he war bodyn' ewynly.' : On this wiss spak Schyr Aymery. Barbour's Bruce, book v, v. 39i- * Matched. NOTES The English historians agree with Barbour as to the mode in which the English pursued Bruce and his followers, and the dexterity with which he evaded them. The following is the testimony of Harding, a great enemy to the Scottish nation: — The King Edward with hoost hym sought full sore. But ay he fled into woodes and strayte forest. And slewe his men at staytes and daungers thore, And at marreys and mires was ay full prest Englyshmen to kyll withoutyn any rest; In the mountaynes and cragges he slew ay where, And in the nyght his foes he frayed full sere: The King Edward with homes and houndes him soght. With menne on fote, through marris, mosse, and myre, Through wodes also, and mountens (wher thei fought,) And euer the Kyng Edward hight men greate hyre, Hym for to take and by myght conquere; But thei might hym not gette by force ne by train, He satte by the fyre when thei went in the rain. Hardyng's Chronicle, pp. 303-04. Peter Langtoft has also a passage concerning the extremities to which King Robert was reduced, which he entitles De Roberto Brus etfuga circum circa fit And wele I understode that the Kyng Robyn Has drunken of that blode the drink of Dan Waryn. Dan Waryn he les tounes that he held, With wrong he mad a res, and misberyng of scheld, Sithen into the forest he yede naked and wode, Als a wild beast, ete of the gres that stode. Thus of Dan Waryn in his boke men rede, God gyf the King Robyn, that alle his kynde so spede, Sir Robynet the Brus he durst noure abide. That thei mad him restus, both in more and wod-side. To while he mad this train, and did umwhile outrage, etc. Peter Langtoft's Chronicle, 8vo, London, 1810, 11, 335. Note 97, p. 289 A sort of persons common in the isles, as may be easily be- lieved, until the introduction of civil polity. Witness the Dean of the Isles' account of Ronay. 'At the north end of Raarsay, be half myle of sea frae it, layes ane ile callit Ronay, maire then a myle in lengthe, full of wood and heddir, with ane ha vein for 549 NOTES heiland galeys in the middis of it, and the same havein is guid for fostering of theives, ruggairs and reivairs, till a nail, upon the peilling and spulzeing of poor peopill. This ile perteins to M'Gillychallan of Raarsay by force, and to the bishope of the lies be heritage.' (Sir Donald Monro's Description of the Western Islands of Scotland, Edinburgh, 1805, p. 22.) Note 98, p. 294 I have followed the vulgar and inaccurate tradition, that Bruce fought against Wallace, and the array of Scotland, at the fatal battle of Falkirk, The story, which seems to have no better authority than that of Blind Harry, bears, that having made much slaughter during the engagement, he sat down to dine with the conquerors without washing the filthy witness from his hands. Fasting he was, and had been in great need. Blooded were all his weapons and his weed; Southeron lords scorn'd him in terms rude. And said, Behold yon Scot eats his own blood. Then rued he sore, for reason bad be known. That blood and land alike should be his own; With them he long was, ere he got away. But contrair Scots he fought not from that day. The account given by most of our historians, of the conversation between Bruce and Wallace over the Carron River, is equally apocryphal. There is full evidence that Bruce was not at that time on the English side, nor present at the battle of Falkirk; nay, that he acted as a guardian of Scotland, along with John Comyn, in the name of Baliol, and in opposition to the English, He was the grandson of the competitor, with whom he has been sometimes confounded. Lord Hailes has well described, and in some degree apologised for, the earlier part of his life. 'His grandfather, the competitor, had patiently acquiesced in the award of Edward. His father, yielding to the times, had served under the English banners. But young Bruce had more ambi- tion, and a more restless spirit. In his earlier years he acted NOTES upon no regular plan. By turns the partisan of Edward, and the vicegerent of Baliol, he seems to have forgotten or stifled his pretensions to the crown. But his character developed itself by degrees, and in maturer age became firm and consistent.' {Annals of Scotland, p. 290, quarto, London, 1776.) Note 99, p. 297. The extraordinary piece of scenery which I have here attempted to describe, is, I think, unparalleled in any part of Scotland, at least in any which I have happened to visit. It lies just upon the frontier of the Laird of MacLeod's country, which is thereabouts divided from the estate of Mr. Maccallister of Strath-Aird, called Strathnardill by the Dean of the Isles. The following account of it is extracted from a journal kept during a tour through the Scottish islands: — 'The western coast of Sky is highly romantic, and at the same time displays a richness of vegetation in the lower grounds to which we have hitherto been strangers. We passed three salt- water lochs, or deep embayments, called Loch Bracadale, Loch Einort, and Loch , and about 1 1 o'clock opened Loch Slavig. We were now under the western termination of the high ridge of mountains called Guillen, or Quillin, or Coolin, whose weatherbeaten and serrated peaks we had admired at a distance from Dunvegan. They sunk here upon the sea, but with the same bold and peremptory aspect which their distant appear- ance indicated. They appeared to consist of precipitous sheets of naked rock, down which the torrents were leaping in a hun- dred lines of foam. The tops of the ridge, apparently inaccessi- ble to human foot, were rent and split into the most tremendous pinnacles. Towards the base of these bare and precipitous crags, the ground, enriched by the soil washed down from them, is comparatively verdant and productive. Where we passed within the small isle of Soa, we entered Loch Slavig, under the shoulder of one of these grisly mountains, and observed that the oppo- site side of the loch was of a milder character, the mountains 551 NOTES being softened down into steep green declivities. From the bottom of the bay advanced a headland of high rocks, which divided its depth into two recesses, from each of which a brook issued. Here it had been intimated to us we would find some romantic scenery; but we were uncertain up which inlet we should proceed in search of it. We chose, against our better judgment, the southerly dip of the bay, where we saw a house which might afford us information. We found, upon enquiry, that there is a lake adjoining to each branch of the bay; and walked a couple of miles to see that near the farm-house, merely because the honest highlander seemed jealous of the honour of his own loch, though we were speedily convinced it was not that which we were recommended to examine. It had no particular merit, excepting from its neighbourhood to a very high cliff, or precipitous mountain, otherwise the sheet of water had nothing differing from any ordinary low-country lake. We returned and re-embarked in our boat, for our guide shook his head at our proposal to climb over the peninsula, or rocky headland which divided the two lakes. In rowing round the headland, we were surprised at the infinite number of sea-fowl, then busy appar- ently with a shoal of fish. 'Arrived at the depth of the bay, we found that the discharge from this second lake forms a sort of waterfall, or rather a rapid stream, which rushes down to the sea with great fury and pre- cipitation. Round this place were assembled hundreds of trouts and salmon, struggling to get up into the fresh water: with a net we might have had twenty salmon at a haul; and a sailor, with no better hook than a crooked pin, caught a dish of trouts during our absence. Advancing up this huddling and riotous brook, we found ourselves in a most extraordinary scene; we lost sight of the sea almost immediately after we had climbed over a low ridge of crags, and were surrounded by mountains of naked rock, of the boldest and most precipitous character. The ground on which we walked was the margin of a lake, which seemed to have sustained the constant ravage of torrents from these rude neighbours. The shores consisted of huge strata 552 NOTES of naked granite, here and there intermixed with bogs, and heaps of gravel and sand piled in the empty watercourses. Vegetation there was little or none; and the mountains rose so perpendicularly from the water edge, that Borrowdale, or even Glencoe, is a jest to them. We proceeded a mile and a half up this deep, dark, and solitary lake, which was about two miles long, half a mile broad, and is, as we learned, of extreme depth. The murky vapours which enveloped the mountain ridges, obliged us by assuming a thousand varied shapes, changing their drapery into all sorts of forms, and sometimes clearing off all together. It is true, the mist made us pay the penalty by some heavy and downright showers, from the frequency of which a Highland boy, whom we brought from the farm, told us the lake was popularly called the Water-kettle. The proper name is Loch Corriskin, from the deep corrie, or hollow, in the moun- tains of Cuilin, which affords the basin for this wonderful sheet of water. It is as exquisite a savage scene as Loch Katrine is a scene of romantic beauty. After having penetrated so far as distinctly to observe the termination of the lake under an immense precipice, which rises abruptly from the water, we returned, and often stopped to admire the ravages which storms must have made in these recesses, where all human witnesses were driven to places of more shelter and security. Stones, or rather large masses and fragments of rocks of a com- posite kind, perfectly different from the strata of the lake, were scattered upon the bare rocky beach, in the strangest and most precarious situations, as if abandoned by the torrents which had borne them down from above. Some lay loose and tottering upon the ledges of the natural rock, with so little security, that the slightest push moved them, though their weight might exceed many tons. These detached rocks, or stones, were chiefly what is called plum-pudding stones. The bare rocks, which formed the shore of the lakes, were a species of granite. The opposite side of the lake seemed quite pathless and inaccessible, as a huge mountain, one of the detached ridges of the Guillen hills, sinks in a profound and perpendicular precipice down to 553 NOTES the water. On the left-hand side, which we traversed, rose a higher and equally inaccessible mountain, the top of which strongly resembled the shivered crater of an exhausted volcano. I never saw a spot in which there was less appearance of vegeta- tion of any kind. The eye rested on nothing but barren and naked crags, and the rocks on which we walked by the side of the loch, were as bare as the pavements of Cheapside. There are one or two small islets in the loch, which seem to bear juniper, or some such low bushy shrub. Upon the whole, though I have seen many scenes of more extensive desolation, I never witnessed any in which it pressed more deeply upon the eye and the heart than at Loch Corriskin ; at the same time that its grandeur elevated and redeemed it from the wild and dreary character of utter barrenness.' Note igo, p. 303 The story of Bruce's meeting the banditti is copied, with such alterations as the fictitious narrative rendered necessary, from a striking incident in the monarch's history, told by Barbour, and which I shall give in the words of the hero's biographer. It is the sequel to the adventure of the bloodhound, narrated in Note 96. It will be remembered that the narrative broke off, leaving the Bruce escaped from his pursuers, but worn out with fatigue, and having no other attendant but his foster-brother. And the gud king held forth his way, Betuix him and his man, quhill thai Passyt owt throw the forest war; Syne in the more thai entryt thar. It wes bathe hey, and lang, and braid; And or thai halff it passyt had. Thai saw on syd thre men cummand, Lik to lycht men and wauerand. Swerdis thai had, and axys als; And ane off thaim, apon his hals,' A mekill boundyn wethir bar. Thai met the king, and halist 2 him thar: And the king thaim thar liailsing yauld;' And askyt thaim quethir tliai wauld. « Neck. « Saluted. ' Returned their salutt. 554 ■ll NOTES Thai said, Robert the Bruyss thai soucht;? For mete with him giff that thai moucht, Thar duelling with him wauld thai ma.* The king said, ' Giff that ye will swa, Haldys furth your way with me, /\nd I sail ger yow sone him se.' Thai persawyt, be his speking. That he wes the selwyn Robert king. And chaungyt contenance and late;' And held nocht in the fyrst state. For thai war fayis to the king; And thoucht to cum in to sculking. And duell with him, quhill that thai saw Thar poynt, and bryng him than off daw.* Thai grantyt till his spek forthi.* Bot the king, that wes witty, Persawyt weill, by thar hawing. That thai luffyt him na thing: And said, ' Falowis, ye mon, all thrCi Forthir aqwent till that we be, All be your selwyn furth ga; And, on the samyn wyss, we twa Sail folow behind weill ner." Quoth thai, ' Schyr, it is na myster ' To trow in ws ony ill.' 'Nane do I,' said he; 'bot I will. That yhe ga fourth thus, quhill we Better with othyr knawin be.' 'We grant,' thai said, ' sen ye will swa:! And furth apon thair gate gan ga. Thus yeid thai till the nycht wes ner. And than the formast cummyn wer Till a waist housband houss; ' and that Thai slew the wethir that thai bar: And slew fyr for to rost thar mete; And askyt the king giff he wald ete. And rest him till the mete war dycht. The king, that hungry was, Ik hycht, Assentyt till thair spek in hy. Bot he said, he wald anerly ' At a fyr; and thai all thre On na wyss with thaim till gyddre be. In the end off the houss thai suld ma Ane othyr fyr: and thai did swa. Thai drew thaim in the houss end, And halff the wethir till him send. And thai rostyt in hy thair mete; And fell rycht freschly for till ete. For the king weill lang fastyt had; And had rycht mekill trawaill mad: Tharfor he eyt full egrely. And quhen he had etyn hastily, • Make. « Gesture or manner. ' Kill him. « Therefore. • There is no need. ' Husbandman's house, cottage. ' Alone. 555 NOTES He had to slep sa mekill will, That he moucht set na let thar till. For quhen the vvanys' fillyt ar, .Men worthys^ hewy euirmar; And to slepe drawys hewynes. The king, that all fortrawaillyt ' wes. Saw that him worthyt slep nedwayia. Till his fostyr-brodyr he sayis; 'May I traist in the, me to walk. Till Ik a litill sleping tak? ' • Ya, Schyr,' he said. ' till I may drey.'* The king then wynkyt a litill wey; And slepyt nocht full encrely; Bot gliffnyt wp oft sodanly. For he had dreid off thai thre men. That at the tothyr fyr war then. That thai his fais war he wyst; Tharfor he slepyt as foule on twyst.' The king slepyt bot a litill than; Quhen sic slep fell on his man, That he mycht nocht hald wp his ey, Bot fell in slep, and rowtyt hey. Now is the king in gret perile; For slep he swa a litill quhile. He sail be ded, for owtyn dreid. For the thre tratouris tuk gud held. That he on slep wes, and his man. In full gret hy thai raiss wp than, And drew thair suerdi*! hastily; And went towart the king in hy, Quhen that thai saw him sleip swa. And slepand thoucht thai wald him sla. The king wp blenkit hastily. And saw his man slepand him by; And saw cummand the tothyr thre. Deliuerly on fute gat he; And drew his suerd owt, and thaim mete. And, as he yude, his fute he set Apon his man, weill hewyly. He waknyt, and raiss disily: For the slep maistryt hym sway. That or he gat wp, ane off thai, That com for to sla the king, Gaiff hym a strak in his rysing, Swa that he mycht help him no mar. The king sa straitly stad ' wes thar. That he wes neuir yeyt sa stad. Ne war the armyng ' that he had. He had bene dede, for owtyn wer. But nocht for thi s on sic maner He helpyt him, in that bargayne,' « Bellies. ' Becomes. ' Fatigued. * Endure. b Bird on bough. « So dangerously situated. ' Had it not been for the armour he wore. • Nevertheless. ' Fray, or dispute. 556 NOTES That thai thre tratowris he has slan. Throw Goddis grace, and his manheid. His fostyr-brothyr thar wes dede. Then wes he wondre will of wayn,* Quhen he saw him left allane. His fostyr-brodyr menyt he; And waryit 2 all the tothyr thre. And syne hys way tuk him allane. And rycht towart bis tryst ' is gane. The Bruce, book v, v. 403. Note ioi, p. 313 Imagination can hardly conceive any thing more beautiful than the extraordinary grotto discovered not many years since upon the estate of Alexander MacAUister, Esq., of Strathaird. It has since been much and deservedly celebrated, and a full account of its beauties has been published by Dr. MacLeay of Oban. The general impression may perhaps be gathered from the following extract from a journal, which, written under the feelings of the moment, is likely to be more accurate than any attempt to recollect the impressions then received. 'The first entrance to this celebrated cave is rude and unpromising; but the light of the torches, with which we were provided, was soon reflected from the roof, floor, and walls, which seem as if they were sheeted with marble, partly smooth, partly rough with frost-work and rustic ornaments, and partly seeming to be wrought into statuary. The floor forms a steep and difficult ascent, and might be fancifully compared to a sheet of water, which, while it rushed whitening and foaming down a declivity, had been suddenly arrested and consolidated by the spell of an enchanter. Upon attaining the summit of this ascent, the cave opens into a splendid gallery, adorned with the most dazzling crystallizations, and finally descends with rapidity to the brink of a pool, of the most limpid water, about four or five yards broad. There opens beyond this pool a portal arch, formed by two columns of white spar, with beautiful chasing upon the sides, which promises a continuation of the cave. One of our > Much afflicted. ' Cursed. • The place of rendezvous appointed for his soldiers. 557 NOTES sailors swam across, for there is no other mode of passing, and informed us (as indeed we partly saw by the light he carried) that the enchantment of Maccalister's cave terminates with this portal, a little beyond which there was only a rude cavern, speedily choked with stones and earth. But the pool, on the brink of which we stood, surrounded by the most fanciful mouldings, in a substance resembling white marble, and dis- tinguished by the depth and purity of its waters, might have been the bathing grotto of a naiad. The groups of combined figures projecting, or embossed, by which the pool is surrounded, are exquisitely elegant and fanciful. A statuary might catch beautiful hints from the singular and romantic disposition of those stalactites. There is scarce a form, or group, on which active fancy may not trace figures or grotesque ornaments, which have been gradually moulded in this cavern by the dropping of the calcareous water hardening into petrifactions. Many of those fine groups have been injured by the senseless rage of appropriation of recent tourists; and the grotto has lost (I am informed), through the smoke of torches, something of that vivid silver tint which was originally one of its chief dis- tinctions. But enough of beauty remains to compensate for all that may be lost.' Mr. MacAllister of Straithaird has, with great propriety, built up the exterior entrance to this cave, in order that strangers may enter properly attended by a guide, to prevent any repetition of the wanton and selfish injury which this singular scene has already sustained. Note 102, p. 320 The generosity which does justice to the character of an enemy, often marks Bruce's sentiments, as recorded by the faithful Barbour. He seldom mentions a fallen enemy without praising such good qualities as he might possess. I shall only take one instance. Shortly after Bruce landed in Carrick, in 1306, Sir Ingram Bell, the English governor of Ayr, engaged a wealthy yeoman, who had hitherto been a follower of Bruce, 558 NOTES to undertake the task of assassinating him. The King learned this treachery, as he is said to have done other secrets of the enemy, by means of a female with whom he had an intrigue. Shortly after he was possessed of this information, Bruce, resorting to a small thicket at a distance from his men, with only a single page to attend him, met the traitor, accompanied by two of his sons. They approached him with their wonted familiarity, but Bruce, taking his page's bow and arrow, com- manded them to keep at a distance. As they still pressed for- ward with professions of zeal for his person and service, he, after a second warning, shot the father with the arrow; and being as- saulted successively by the two sons, despatched first one, who was armed with an axe, thenastheother charged himwithaspear, avoided the thrust, struck the head from the spear, and cleft the skull of the assassin with a blow of his two-handed sword. He rushed down of blood all red, And when the king saw they were dead, All three lying, he wiped his brand. With that his boy came fast running. And said, ' Our lord might lowyt' be, That granted you might and poweste ' To fell the felony and the pride, Of three in so little tide.' The king said, 'So our lord me see, They have been worthy men all three, Had they not been full of treason: But that made their confusion." Barbour's Bruce, book v, p. isa. Note 103, p. 321 To establish his dominion in Scotland had been a favourite object of Edward's ambition, and nothing could exceed the pertinacity with which he pursued it, unless his inveterate resentment against the insurgents, who so frequently broke the English yoke when he deemed it most firmly riveted. After the battles of Falkirk and Methven, and the dreadful examples which he had made of Wallace and other champions of national independence, he probably concluded every chance of insurrec- • Lauded. » Power. 5.S9 NOTES tion was completely annihilated. This was in 1306, when Bruce, as we have seen, was utterly expelled from Scotland: yet, in the conclusion of the same year, Bruce was again in arms and for- midable; and in 1307, Edward, though exhausted by a long and wasting malady, put himself at the head of the army destined to destroy him utterly. This was, perhaps, partly in conse- quence of a vow which he had taken upon him, with all the pomp of chivalry, upon the day in which he dubbed his son a knight, for which see a subsequent note. But even his spirit of vengeance was unable to restore his exhausted strength. He reached Burgh-upon-Sands, a petty village of Cumberland, on the shores of the Solway Firth, and there, 6th July, 1307, expired in sight of the detested and devoted country of Scotland. His dying injunctions to his son required him to continue the Scottish war, and never to recall Gaveston. Edward H disobeyed both charges. Yet, more to mark his animosity, the dying mon- arch ordered his bones to be carried with the invading army, Froissart, who probably had the authority of eyewitnesses, has given us the following account of this remarkable charge: — ' In the said forest, the old King Robert of Scotland dyd kepe hymselfe, whan King Edward the Fyrst conquered nygh all Scotland ; for he was so often chased, that none durst loge him in castell, nor fortresse, for feare of the said Kyng. 'And ever whan the King was returned into Ingland, than he would gather together agayn his people, and conquere townes, castells, and fortresses, iuste to Berwick, some by battle, and some by fair speech and love: and when the said King Edward heard thereof, than would he assemble his power, and wyn the realme of Scotland again; thus the chance went between these two foresaid Kings. It was shewed me, how that this King Robert wan and lost his realme v. times. So this continued till the said King Edward died at Berwick: and when he saw that he should die, he called before him his eldest son, who was King after him, and there, before all the barones, he caused him to swear, that as soon as he were dead, that he should take his body, and boyle it in a cauldron, till the flesh departed clean 560 NOTES from the bones, and than to bury the flesh, and keep still the bones; and that as often as the Scotts should rebell against him, he should assemble the people against them, and carry with him the bones of his father; for he believed verily, that if they had his bones with them, that the Scotts should never attain any victory against them. The which thing was not accomplished, for when the King died his son carried him to London.' (Ber- ners' Froissart's Chronicle, London, 1812, pp. 39, 40.) Edward's commands were not obeyed, for he was interred in Westminster Abbey, with the appropriate inscription : — 'Edwardus Primus Scotorum malleus hic est. Pactum Serva.' Yet some steps seem to have been taken towards rendering his body capable of occasional transportation, for it was exqui- sitely embalmed, as was ascertained when his tomb was opened some years ago. Edward II judged wisely in not carrying the dead body of his father into Scotland, since he would not obey his living counsels. It ought to be observed, that though the order of the incidents is reversed in the poem, yet, in point of historical accuracy, Bruce had landed in Scotland, and obtained some successes of consequence, before the death of Edward I. Note 104, p. 325 The little island of Canna, or Cannay, adjoins to those of Rum and Muick, with which it forms one parish. In a pretty bay opening towards the east, there is a lofty and slender rock detached from the shore. Upon the summit are the ruins of a very small tower, scarcely accessible by a steep and precipitous path. Here it is said one of the kings, or Lords of the Isles, con- fined a beautiful lady, of whom he was jealous. The ruins are of course haunted by her restless spirit, and many romantic stories are told by the aged people of the island concerning her fate in life, and her appearances after death. 40 561 NOTES Note 105, p. 327 Ronin (popularly called Rum, a name which a poet may be pardoned for avoiding if possible, is a very rough and moun- tainous island, adjacent to those of Eigg and Cannay. There is almost no arable ground upon it, so that, except in the plenty of the deer, which of course are now nearly extirpated, it still deserves the description bestowed by the archdean of the Isles. * Ronin, sixteen myle north-wast from the ile of Coll, lyes ane ile callit Ronin Ile, of sixteen myle long, and six in bredthe in the narrowest, ane forest of heigh mountains, and abundance of little deir in it, quhilk deir will never be slane dounewith, but the principal saittis man be in the height of the hill, because the deir will be callit upwart ay be the tainchell, or without tynchel they will pass upwart perforce. In this ile will be gotten about Britane als many wild nests upon the plane mure as men pleasis to gadder, and yet by resson the fowls hes few to start them except deir. This ile lyes from the west to the eist in lenth, and pertains to M'Kenabrey of Colla. Many solan geese are in this ile.' (Monro's Description of the Western Isles, p. 18.) Note 106, p. 327 These, and the following lines of the stanza, refer to a dreadful tale of feudal vengeance, of which unfortunately there are relics that still attest the truth. Scoor-Eigg is a high peak in the centre of the small Isle of Eigg, or Egg. It is well known to mineralogists, as afifording many interesting specimens, and to others whom chance or curiosity may lead to the island, for the astonishing view of the mainland and neighbouring isles, which it commands. I shall again avail myself of the journal I have quoted. '26th August, 18 1 4. — At seven this morning we were in the Sound which divides the Isle of Rum from that of Egg. The lat- ter, although hilly and rocky, and traversed by a remarkably high and barren ridge, called Scoor-Eigg, has, in point of soil, 562 NOTES a much more promising appearance. Southward of both h'es the Isle of Muich, or Muck, a low and fertile island, and though the least, yet probably the most valuable of the three. We manned the boat, and rowed along the shore of Egg in quest of a cavern, which had been the memorable scene of a horrid feudal ven- geance. We had rounded more than half the island, admiring the entrance of many a bold natural cave, which its rocks exhibited, without finding that which we sought, until we pro- cured a guide. Nor, indeed, was it surprising that it should have escaped the search of strangers, as there are no outward indica- tions more than might distinguish the entrance of a fox-earth. This noted cave has a very narrow opening, through which one can hardly creep on his knees and hands. It rises steep and lofty within, and runs into the bowels of the rock to the depth of two hundred and fifty-five measured feet; the height at the entrance may be about three feet, but rises within to eighteen or twenty, and the breadth may vary in the same proportion. The rude and stony bottom of this cave is strewed with the bones of men, women, and children, the sad relics of the ancient inhabitants of the island, two hundred in number, who were slain on the following occasion: The MacDonalds of the Isle of Egg, a people dependent on Clan-Ranald, had done some injury to the Laird of MacLeod. The tradition of the isle says, that it was by a personal attack on the chieftain, in which his back was broken. But that of the other isles bears, more probably, that the injury was offered to two or three of the MacLeods, who, land- ing upon Eigg, and using some freedom with the young women, were seized by the islanders, bound hand and foot, and turned adrift in a boat, which the winds and waves safely conducted to Skye. To avenge the offence given, MacLeod sailed with such a body of men, as rendered resistance hopeless. The natives, fearing his vengeance, concealed themselves in this cavern, and, after a strict search, the MacLeods went on board their galleys, after doing what mischief they could, concluding the inhabitants had left the isle, and betaken themseh-es to the Long Island, or some of Clan-Ranald's other possessions. But next morning 563 NOTES they espied from the vessels a man upon the island, and imme- diately landing again, they traced his retreat by the marks of his footsteps, a light snow being unhappily on the ground. MacLeod then surrounded the cavern, summoned the subterranean gar- rison, and demanded that the individuals who had offended him should be delivered up to him. This was peremptorily refused. The chieftain then caused his people to divert the course of a rill of water, which, falling over the entrance of the cave, would have prevented his purposed vengeance. He then kindled at the entrance of the cavern a huge fire, composed of turf and fern, and maintained it with unrelenting assiduity, until all within were destroyed by suffocation. The date of this dreadful deed must have been recent, if one may judge from the fresh appear- ance of those relics. I brought off, in spite of the prejudice of our sailors, a skull from among the numerous specim.ens of mortality which the cavern afforded. Before reembarking we visited another cave, opening to the sea, but of a character entirely different, being a large open vault as high as that of a cathedral, and running back a great way into the rock at the same height. The height and width of the opening gives ample light to the whole. Here, after 1745, when the Catholic priests were scarcely tolerated, the priest of Eigg used to perform the Roman Catholic service, most of the islanders being of that persuasion. A huge ledge of rocks rising about half-way up one side of the vault, served for altar and pulpit; and the appear- ance of a priest and Highland congregation in such an extraor- dinary place of worship, might have engaged the pencil of Sal va tor.' Note 107, p. 328 It would be unpardonable to detain the reader upon a wonder so often described, and yet so incapable of being understood by description. This palace of Neptune is even grander upon a second than the first view. The stupendous columns which form the sides of the cave, the depth and strength of the tide which rolls its deep and heavy swell up to the extremity of the vault — 564 NOTES the variety of tints formed by white, crimson, and yellow stalactites, or petrifactions, which occupy the vacancies between the base of the broken pillars which form the roof, and intersect them with a rich, curious, and variegated chasing, occupying each interstice — the corresponding variety below water, where the ocean rolls over a dark-red or violet-coloured rock, from which, as from a base, the basaltic columns arise — the tremen- dous noise of the swelling tide, mingling with the deep-toned echoes of the vault — are circumstances elsewhere unparalleled. Nothing can be more interesting than the varied appearance of the little archipelago of islets, of which Staffa is the most remarkable. This group, called in Gaelic Tresharnish, affords a thousand varied views to the voyager, as they appear in different positions with reference to his course. The variety of their shape contributes much to the beauty of these effects. Note io8, p. 330 The ballad, entitled Macphail of Colonsay, and the Mermaid of Corrievrekin, was composed by John Leyden, from a tradition which he found while making a tour through the Hebrides about 1801, soon before his fatal departure for India, where, after having made farther progress in Oriental literature than any man of letters who had embraced those studies, he died a martyr to his zeal for knowledge, in the island of Java, immediately after the landing of our forces near Batavia, in August, 181 1. Note 109, p. 330 The peninsula of Cantire is joined to South Knapdale by a very narrow isthmus, formed by the western and eastern Loch of Tarbat. These two saltwater lakes, or bays, encroach so far upon the land, and the extremities come so near to each other, that there is not above a mile of land to divide them. 'It is not long,' says Pennant, 'since vessels of nine or ten tons were drawn by horses out of the west loch into that of the 565 NOTES east, to avoid the dangers of the Mull of Cantyre, so dreaded and so little known was the navigation round that promontory. It is the opinion of many, that these little isthmuses, so frequently styled Tarbat in North Britain, took their name from the above circumstance; Tarruing, signifying to draw, and Bata, a boat. This too might be called, by way of preeminence, the Tarbat, from a very singular circumstance related by Torfceus. When Magnus, the barefooted king of Norway, obtained from Donald- bane of Scotland the cession of the Western Isles, or all those places that could be surrounded in a boat, he added to them the peninsula of Cantyre by this fraud: he placed himself in the stern of a boat, held the rudder, was drawn over this narrow track, and by this species of navigation wrested the country from his brother monarch.' (Pennant's Scotland, London, 1790, p. 190.) But that Bruce also made this passage, although at a period two or three years later than in the poem, appears from the evidence of Barbour, who mentions also the effect produced upon the minds of the Highlanders, from the prophecies current amongst them : — Bot to King Robert will we gang, That we haff left wnspokyn of lang. Quhen he had conwoyit to the se His brodyr Eduuard, and his menye. And othyr men off gret noblay. To Tarbart thai held thair way. In galayis ordanyt for thair far. Bot thaim worthyt i draw thair schippis thar: And a myle wes betuix the seys; Bot that wes lompnyt ^ all with treis. The King his schippis thar gert ' draw. And for the wynd couth * stoutly blaw Apon thair bak, as thai wald ga, He gert men rapys and mastis ta, And set thaim in the schippis hey, And sayllis to the toppis tey; And gert men gang thar by drawand. The wynd thaim helpyt, that was blawand; Swa that, in a litill space, Thair fiote all our drawin was. And quhen thai, that in the His war. Hard tell how the gud King had thar « Were obliged to. ' Laid with trees. » Caused. * Could. 566 NOTES Gert hys schlppis with saillis ga Owt our betuix [the] Tarbart[isl twa, Thai war abaysit ' sa wtrely. For thai wyst, throw auld prophecy, That he that suld ger^ schippis sua Betuix thai seis with saillis ga, Suld wyne the His sua till hand. That nane with strenth suld him withstand. Tharfor thai come all to the King. Wes nane withstud his bidding, Owtakyn' Jhone of Lome allayne. Bot Weill sone eftre wes he tayne; And present rycht to the King. And thai that war of his leding, That till the King had brokyn lay,* War all dede, and destroyit away. Barbour's Bruce, book x, v. 821. Note iio, p. 331 Loch Ranza is a beautiful bay, on the northern extremity of Arran, opening towards East Tarbat Loch. It is well described by Pennant : ' The approach was magnificent ; a fine bay in front, about a mile deep, having a ruined castle near the lower end, on a low far projecting neck of land, that forms another harbour, with a narrow passage; but within has three fathom of water, even at the lowest ebb. Beyond is a little plain watered by a stream, and inhabited by the people of a small village. The whole is environed with a theatre of mountains; and in the background the serrated crags of Grianan-Athol soar above.* (Pennant's Tour to the Western Isles, pp. 191-92.) Ben-Ghaoil, 'the mountain of the winds,' is generally known by its English, and less poetical name, of Goatfield. Note hi, p. 337 The passage in Barbour, describing the landing of Bruce, and his being recognised by Douglas and those of his followers who had preceded him, by the sound of his horn, is in the original singularly simple and affecting. The King arrived in Arran with thirty-three small row-boats. He interrogated a female if there • Confounded. ' Make. ' Excepting. « Faith. NOTES had arrived any warlike men of late in that country. 'Surely, sir,' she replied, ' I can tell you of many who lately came hither, discomfited the English governor, and blockaded his castle of Brodick. They maintain themselves in a wood at no great distance.' The king, truly conceiving that this must be Douglas and his followers, who had lately set forth to try their fortune in Arran, desired the woman to conduct him to the wood. She obeyed. The king then blew his horn on high; And gert his men that were him by, Hold them still, and all privy; And syne again his home blew he. James of Dowglas heard him blow, And at the last alone gan know. And said, ' Soothly yon is the king; I know long while since his blowing.' The third time therewithall he blew. And then Sir Robert Boid it knew; And said, ' Yon is the king, but dread, Go we forth till him, better speed.' Then went they till the king in hye. And him inclined courteously. And blithly welcomed them the king. And was joyful of their meeting. And kissed them; and speared* syne How they had fared in hunting? And they him told all, but lesing:' Syne laud they God of their meeting. Syne with the king till his harbourye Went both joyfu' and jolly. Barbour's Bruce, book V, pp. lis, ii6« Note 112, p. 339 The kind, and yet fiery character of Edward Bruce, is well painted by Barbour, in the account of his behaviour after the battle of Bannockburn. Sir Walter Ross, one of the very few Scottish nobles who fell in that battle, was so dearly beloved by Edward, that he wished the victory had been lost, so Ross had lived. Out-taken him, men has not seen Where he for any men made moaning. And here the venerable Archdeacon intimates a piece of scandal. Sir Edward Bruce, it seems, loved Ross's sister, par amours, to » Asked. ' Without lying. 568 NOTES the neglect of his own lady, sister to David de Strathbogie, Earl of Athole. This criminal passion had evil consequences; for, in resentment of the affront done to his sister, Athole attacked the guard which Bruce had left at Cambuskenneth, during the battle of Bannockburn, to protect his magazine of provisions, and slew Sir William Keith, the commander. For which treason he was forfeited. In like manner, when in a sally from Carrickfergus, Neil Fleming, and the guards whom he commanded, had fallen, after the protracted resistance which saved the rest of Edward Bruce 's army, he made such moan as surprised his followers: — Sic moan he made men had ferly,* For he was not customably Wont for to moan men any thing, Nor would not hear men make moaning. Such are the nice traits of character so often lost in general history. Note 113, p. 346 This incident, which illustrates so happily the chivalrous generosity of Bruce's character, is one of the many simple and natural traits recorded by Barbour. It occurred during the expedition which Bruce made to Ireland, to support the preten- sions of his brother Edward to the throne of that kingdom Bruce was about to retreat, and his host was arrayed for moving. The king has heard a woman cry. He asked what that was in hy.' 'It is the layndar,' sir,' sai ane, 'That her child -ilM right now has ta'en: And must leave now behind us here. Therefore she makes an evil cheer.' ' The king said, ' Certes,' it were pity That she in that point left should be. For certes I trow there is no man That he no will rue' a woman than.' His hosts all there arested he, And gerts a tent soon stintit' be, And gert her gang in hastily. And other women to be her by. > Wonder. » Haste. » Laundress. « Child-bed. » Stop. • Certainly. » Pity. 8 Caused. » Pitched. NOTES While she was delivered he bade; And syne forth on his ways rade. And how she forth should carried be, Or he forth fure,' ordained he. This was a full great courtesy. That swilk a king and so mighty, Gert his men dwell on this manner, But for a poor lavender." Barbour's Bruce, book XVI, pp. 39, 40. Note 114, p. 355 The interior of the island of Arran abounds with beautiful highland scenery. The hills, being very rocky and precipitous, aflford some cataracts of great height, though of inconsiderable breadth. There is one pass over the river Machrai, renowned for the dilemma of a poor woman, who, being tempted by the narrowness of the ravine to step across, succeeded in making the first movement, but took fright when it became necessary to move the other foot, and remained in a posture equally ludi- crous and dangerous, until some chance passenger assisted her to extricate herself. It is said she remained there some hours. Note 115, p. 355 The isle of Arran, like those of Man and Anglesea, abounds with many relics of heathen, and probably Druidical, supersti- tion. There are high erect columns of unhewn stone, the most early of all monuments, the circles of rude stones, commonly entitled Druidical, and the cairns, or sepulchral piles, within which are usually found urns enclosing ashes. Much doubt necessarily rests upon the history of such monuments, nor is it possible to consider them as exclusively Celtic, or Druidical. By much the finest circles of standing stones, excepting Stone- henge.are those of Stenhouse,at Stennis,in the island of Pomona, the principal isle of the Orcades. These, of course, are neither Celtic nor Druidical; and we are assured that many circles of the kind occur both in Sweden and Norway. » Moved. NOTES Note ii6, p. 355 Brodick or Brathwick Castle, in the Isle of Arran, is an ancient fortress, near an open roadstead called Brodick Bay, and not far distant from a tolerable harbour, closed in by the island of Lamlash. This important place had been assailed a short time before Bruce's arrival in the island. James Lord Douglas, who accompanied Bruce to his retreat in Rachrine, seems, in the spring of 1306, to have tired of his abode there, and set out accordingly, in the phrase of the times, to see what adventure God would send him. Sir Robert Boyd accompanied him; and his knowledge of the localities of Arran appears to have directed his course thither. They landed in the island privately, and appear to have laid an ambush for Sir John Hastings, the Eng- lish governor of Brodwick, and surprised a considerable supply of arms and provisions, and nearly took the castle itself. Indeed, that they actually did so, has been generally averred by histo- rians, although it does not appear from the narrative of Barbour. On the contrary, it would seem that they took shelter within a fortification of the ancient inhabitants, a rampart called 'Tor an Schian.' When they were joined by Bruce, it seems probable that they had gained Brodick Castle. At least tradition says, that from the battlements of the tower he saw the supposed signal-fire on Turnberry-nook. . . . The castle is now much modernised, but has a dignified appearance, being surrounded by flourishing plantations. Note 117, P- 357 Barbour, with great simplicity, gives an anecdote, from which it would seem that the vice of profane swearing, afterwards too general among the Scottish nation, was, at this time, confined to military men. As Douglas, after Bruce's return to Scotland, was roving about the mountainous country of Tweeddale, near the water of Line, he chanced to hear some persons in a farm- house say 'the devil.' Concluding, from this hardy expression, 571 NOTES that the house contained warlike guests, he immediately assailed it, and had the good fortune to make prisoners Thomas Randolph, afterwards the famous Earl of Murray, and Alex- ander Stuart, Lord Bonkle. Both were then in the English interest, and had come into that country with the purpose of driving out Douglas. They afterwards ranked among Bruce's most zealous adherents. Note ii8, p. 359 The remarkable circumstances by which Bruce was induced to enter Scotland, under the false idea that a signal-fire was lighted upon the shore near his maternal castle of Turnberry — the disappointment which he met with, and the train of success which arose out of that very disappointment, are too curious to be passed over unnoticed. The following is the narrative of Barbour. The introduction is a favourable specimen of his style, which seems to be in some degree the model for that of Gawain Douglas: — This wes in ver,* quhen wynter tid. With his blastis hidwyss to bid. Was our drywn: and byrdis smale. As turturis and the nychtyngale, Begouth^ rycht sariely ^ to syng; And for to mak in thair singyng Swete notis, and sownys ser,* And melodys plesand to her. And the treis begouth to ma s Burgeans,' and brycht blomys alsua. To wyn the helyng' off thair hewid, That wykkyt wyntir had thaim rewid.' And all gressys beguth to spryng. In to that tyme the nobill king, With his flote, and a few menye,* Thre hundyr I trow thai mycht be. Is to the se, owte off Arane A litill forouth,'" ewyn gane. Thai rowit fast, with all thair mycht, Till that apon thaim fell the nycht. That woux myrk" apon gret maner, Swa that thai wyst nocht quhar thai wer. « Spring. » Began. ' Loftily. * Several. « Make. « Buds. » Covering. » Bereaved. » Men. "> Before. " Dark. 572 NOTES For thai na nedill had, na stane; Bot rowyt alwayis in till ane, Sterand all tyme apon the fyr. That thai saw brynnand lycht and schyr.* It wes bot auentur 2 thaim led: And thai in schort tyme sa thaim sped. That at the fyr arywyt thai; And went to land bot mar delay. And Cuthbert, that has sene the fyr. Was full off angyr, and off ire: For he durst nocht do it away; And wes alsua dowtand ay That his lord suld pass to se. Tharfor thair cummyn waytit he; And met thaim at thair arywing. He wes wele sone broucht to the King, That speryt at him how he had done. And he with sar hart tauld him sone. How that he fand nane weill luffand; Bot all war fayis, that he fand : And that the lord the Persy, With ner thre hundre in cumpany. Was in the castell thar besid, Fullfillyt off dispyt and prid. Bot ma than twa partis off his rowt War herberyt in the toune without; ' And dyspytyt yow mar, Schir King, Than men may dispyt ony thing.' Than said the King, in full gret ire; ' Tratour, quhy maid thow than the fyr?' • A! Schyr,' said he, ' sa God me sel The fyr wes newyr maid for me. Na, or the nycht, I wyst it nocht; Bot fra I wyst it, weill I thocht That ye, and haly your menye. In hy' suld put yow to the se. For thi I cum to mete yow her. To tell perellys that may aper.' The King wes off his spek angry. And askyt his prywe men, in hy, Quhat at thaim thoucht wes best to do. Schyr Edward fryst answert thar to, Hys brodyr that wes swa hardy. And said; ' I say yow sekyrly Thar sail na perell, that may be. Dry ve me eftsonys * to the se. Myne auentur her tak will I, Quhethir it be esfuU or angry.' • Brothyr," he said, ' sen thou will sua. It is gud that we samyn ta Dissese or ese, or payne or play, Eftyr as God will ws purway.* * Clear. ' Adventure. • Haste. • Soon after. " Prepare. 573 NOTES And sen men sayis that the Persy Myn heretage will occupy; And his menye sa ner ws lyis. That ws dispytis mony wyss; Ga we and wenge ' sum off the dispyte And that may we haiff done alss tite;' For thai ly traistly,^ but dreding Off ws, or off our her cummyng. And thoucht we slepand slew thaim all, Repruff tharof na man sail. For werrayour na forss suld ma, i Quhethir he mycht ourcom his fa Throw strenth, or throw sutelte; '. Bot that gud faith ay haldyn be.' Barbour's Bruce, book iv, v. I. Note 119, p. 367 The following are the words of an ingenious correspondent, to whom I am obliged for much information respecting Turnberry and its neighbourhood, 'The only tradition now remembered of the landing of Robert the Bruce in Carrick, relates to the fire seen by him from the Isle of Arran. It is still generally reported, and religiously believed by many, that this fire was really the work of supernatural power, unassisted by the hand of any mortal being; and it is said, that, for several centuries, the flame rose yearly on the same hour of the same night of the year, on which the king first saw it from the turrets of Brodick castle; and some go so far as to say, that if the exact time were known, it would be still seen. That this superstitious notion is very ancient, is evident from the place where the fire is said to have appeared, being called the Bogles' Brae, beyond the remem- brance of man. In support of this curious belief, it is said that the practice of burning heath for the improvement of land was then unknown; that a spunkie (Jack o' lanthorn) could not have been seen across the breadth of the Forth of Clyde, between Ayrshire and Arran; and that the courier of Bruce was his kins- man, and never suspected of treachery.' (Letter from Mr. Joseph Train, of Newton Stuart, author of an ingenious Col- lection of Poems, illustrative of many ancient Traditions in Galloway and Ayrshire, Edinburgh, 18 14.) • Avenge. ' Quickly. > Confidently, 574 NOTES Note 120, p. 369 The Castle of Turnberry, on the coast of Ayrshire, was the property of Robert Bruce, in right of his mother. Lord Hailes mentions the following remarkable circumstance concerning the mode in which he became proprietor of it : ' Martha, Countess of Carrick in her own right, the wife of Robert Bruce, Lord of Annandale, bare him a son, afterwards Robert I (nth July, 1274). The circumstances of her marriage were singular: hap- pening to meet Robert Bruce in her domains, she became enamoured of him, and with some violence led him to her castle of Turnberry. A few days after she married him, without the knowledge of the relations of either party, and without the requisite consent of the king. The king instantly seized her castle and whole estates: She afterwards atoned by a fine for her feudal delinquency. Little did Alexander foresee, that, from this union, the restorer of the Scottish monarchy was to arise.' (Annals of Scotland, 11, 180.) The same obliging correspondent, whom I have quoted in the preceding note, gives me the follow- ing account of the present state of the ruins of Turnberry: 'Turnberry Point is a rock projecting into the sea; the top of it is about eighteen feet above highwater mark. Upon this rock was built the castle. There is about twenty-five feet high of the wall next to the sea yet standing. Upon the land-side the wall is only about four feet high ; the length has been sixty feet, and the breadth forty -five: It was surrounded by a ditch, but that is now nearly filled up. The top of the ruin, rising between forty and fifty feet above the water, has a majestic appearance from the sea. There is not much local tradition in the vicinity connected v/ith Bruce or his history. In front, however, of the rock, upon which stands Culzean Castle, is the mouth of a romantic cavern, called the Cove of Colean, in which it is said Bruce and his fol- lowers concealed themselves immediately after landing, till they arranged matters for their farther enterprises. Burns mentions it in the poem of Hallowe'en. The only place to the south of Turnberry worth mentioning, with reference to Bruce's 575 NOTES history, is the Weary Nuik, a little romantic green hill, where he and his party are said to have rested, after assaulting the castle.' Around the Castle of Turnberry was a level plain of about two miles in extent, forming the castle park. There could be nothing, I am informed, more beautiful than the copsewood and verdure of this extensive meadow, before it was invaded by the ploughshare. Note 121, p. 381 I have followed the flattering and pleasing tradition, that the Bruce, after his descent upon the coast of Ayrshire, actually gained possession of his maternal castle. But the tradition is not accurate. The fact is, that he was only strong enough to alarm and drive in the outposts of the English garrison, then commanded, not by Clifford, as assumed in the text, but by Percy. Neither was Clifford slain upon this occasion, though he had several skirmishes with Bruce. He fell afterwards in the battle of Bannockburn. Bruce, after alarming the castle of Turnberry, and surprising some part of the garrison, who were quartered without the walls of the fortress, retreated into the mountainous part of Carrick, and there made himself so strong, that the English were obliged to evacuate Turnberry, and at length the Castle of Ayr. Many of his benefactions and royal gifts attest his attachment to the hereditary followers of his house, in this part of the country. It is generally known, that Bruce, in consequence of his distresses after the battle of Methven, was affected by a scorbutic disorder, which was then called a leprosy. It is said he experienced benefit from the use of a medicinal spring, about a mile north of the town of Ayr, called from that circumstance King's Case. The following is the tradition of the country, collected by Mr. Train: 'After Robert ascended the throne, he founded the priory of Dominican monks, every one of whom was under the obligation of putting up to Heaven a prayer once every week-day, and twice in holydays, for the recovery of the king; and, after his death, these masses were continued for the saving NOTES of his soul. The ruins of this old monastery are now nearly level with the ground. Robert likewise caused houses to be built round the well of King's Case, for eight lepers, and allowed eight bolls of oatmeal, and 28/. Scotch money, per annum, to each person. These donations were laid upon the lands of Fullarton, and are now payable by the Duke of Portland. The farm of Shiels, in the neighbourhood of Ayr, has to give, if required, a certain quantity of straw for the lepers' beds, and so much to thatch their houses annually. Each leprous person had a drinking-horn provided him by the king, which continued to be hereditary in the house to which it was first granted. One of those identical horns, of very curious workmanship, was in the possession of the late Colonel Fullarton of that Ilk.' My correspondent proceeds to mention some curious rem- nants of antiquity respecting this foundation. ' In compliment to Sir William Wallace, the great deliverer of his country. King Robert Bruce invested the descendants of that hero with the right of placing all the lepers upon the establishment of King's Case. This patronage continued in the family of Craigie, till it was sold along with the lands of the late Sir Thomas Wallace. The burgh of Ayr then purchased the right of applying the dona- tions of King's Case to the support of the poor-house of Ayr. The lepers' charter-stone was a basaltic block, exactly the shape of a sheep's kidney, and weighing an Ayrshire boll of meal. The surface of this stone being as smooth as glass, there was not any other way of lifting it than by turning the hollow to the ground, there extending the arms along each side of the stone, and clasp- ing the hands in the cavity. Young lads were always considered as deserving to be ranked among men, when they could lift the blue stone of King's Case. It always lay beside the well, till a few years ago, when some English dragoons encamped at that place wantonly broke it, since which the fragments have been kept by the freemen of Prestwick in a place of security. There is one of these charter-stones at the village of Old Daily, in Carrick, which has become more celebrated by the following event, which happened only a very few years ago: The village 49 577 NOTES of New Daily being now larger than the old place of the same name, the inhabitants insisted that the charter-stone should be removed from the old town to the new, but the people of Old Daily were unwilling to part with their ancient right. Demands and remonstrances were made on each side without effect, till at last man, woman, and child, of both villages, marched out, and by one desperate engagement put an end to a war, the com- mencement of which no person then living remembered. Jus- tice and victory, in this instance, being of the same party, the villagers of the old town of Daily now enjoy the pleasure of keeping the bliie-stane unmolested. Ideal privileges are often attached to some of these stones. In Girvan, if a man can set his back against one of the above description, he is supposed not liable to be arrested for debt, nor can cattle, it is imagined, be poinded as long as they are fastened to the same stone. That stones were often used as symbols to denote the right of possess- ing land, before the use of written documents became general in Scotland, is, I think, exceedingly probable. The charter- stone of Inverness is still kept with great care, set in a frame, and hooped with iron, at the market-place of that town. It is called by the inhabitants of that district Clack na Couddin. I think it is very likely that Carey has mentioned this stone in his poem of Craig Phaderick. This is only a conjecture, as I have never seen that work. While the famous marble chair was allowed to remain at Scoon, it was considered as the charter- stone of the kingdom of Scotland.' Note 122, p. 382 These mazers were large drinking-cups, or goblets. Mention of them occurs in a curious inventory of the treasure and jewels of James III, which will be published, with other curious docu- ments of antiquity, by my friend, Mr. Thomas Thomson, D. Register of Scotland, under the title of *A Collection of Inven- tories, and other Records of the Royal Wardrobe, Jewel-House,' etc. I copy the passage, in which mention is made of the mazers, 578 NOTES and also of a habiliment, called 'King Robert Bruce's serk,' i.e. shirt, meaning, perhaps, his shirt of mail; although no other arms are mentioned in the inventory. It might have been a relic of more sanctified description, a penance shirt perhaps. Extract from 'Inventare of ane Parte of the Gold and Silver conyeit and unconyeit, Jowellis, and uther Stuff perteining to Umquhile oure Soverane Lords Fader, that he had in Depots the Tyme of his Deceis, and that come to the Handis of oure Soverane Lord that now is, M.cccc.LXXXViii.' 'Memorandum fundin in a bandit kist like a gardeviant,^ in the fyrst the grete chen>'e ^ of gold, contenand sevin score sex linkis. Item, thre platis of silver. Item, tuelf salfatis.^ Item, fyftene discheis ^ ouregilt. Item, a grete gilt plate. Item, twa grete bassingis ^ ouregilt. Item, FOUR Masaris, called King Robert the Brocis, with a cover. Item, a grete cok maid of silver. Item, the hede of silver of ane of the coveris of masar. Item, a fare dialle.® Item, twa kasis of knyffis.' Item, a pare of auld knifhs. Itetn, takin be the smyth that opinnit the lokkis, in gold fourty demyis. Item, in Inglys grotis ^ . . . xxiiii li. and the said silver given again to the takaris of hym. Item, ressavit in the cloissat of Davidis tour, ane haly water-fat of silver, twa boxis, a cageat tume, a glas with rois-water, a dosoune of torchis, King Robert Brucis Serk.' The real use of the antiquarian's studies is to bring the minute information which he collects to bear upon points of history. For ' Garde-vin, or wine-cooler. * Chain. ' Salt-cellars, anciently the object of much curious workmanship. ♦ Dishes. ' Basins. ' Dial. ' Cases of knives. ' English groats. 579 NOTES example, in the inventory I have just quoted, there is given the contents of the black kist, or chest, belonging to James III, which was his strong box, and contained a quantity of treasure, in money and jewels, surpassing what might have been at the period expected of 'poor Scotland's gear.' This illustrates and authenticates a striking passage in the history of the house of Douglas, by Hume of Godscroft. The last Earl of Douglas (of the elder branch) had been reduced to monastic seclusion in the Abbey of Lindores, by James II. James III, in his distresses, would willingly have recalled him to public life, and made him his lieutenant. 'But he,' says Godscroft, 'laden with years and old age, and weary of troubles, refused, saying. Sir, you have keept mee, and your black coffer in Sterling, too long, neither of us can doe you any good: I, because my friends have forsaken me, and my followers and dependers are fallen from me, betak- ing themselves to other masters; and your black trunk is too farre from you, and your enemies are between you and it: or (as others say) because there was in it a sort of black coyne, that the king had caused to be coyned by the advice of his cour- tiers; which moneyes (saith he) sir, if you had put out at the first, the people would have taken it; and if you had employed mee in due time I might have done you service. But now there is none that will take notice of me, nor meddle with your money.' (Hume's History of the House oj Douglas, fol. Edinburgh, 1644, p. 206.) Note 123, p. 383 As soon as it was known in Kyle, says ancient tradition, that Robert Bruce had landed in Carrick, with the intention of recovering the crown of Scotland, the Laird of Craigie, and forty- eight men in his immediate neighbourhood, declared in favour of their legitimate prince. Bruce granted them a tract of land, still retained by the freemen of Newton to this day. The original charter was lost when the pestilence was raging at Ayr; but it was renewed by one of the Jameses, and is dated at Faulkland. The freemen of Newton were formerly ofificers by rotation. The 580 NOTES Provost of Ayr at one time was a freeman of Newton, and it happened to be his turn, while provost in Ayr, to be officer in Newton, both of which offices he discharged at the same time. Note 124, p. 383 The forest of Selkirk, or Ettrick, at this period, occupied all the district which retains that denomination, and embraced the neighbouring dales of Tweeddale, and at least the Upper Ward of Clydesdale. All that tract was probably as waste as it is mountainous, and covered with the remains of the ancient Cale- donian Forest, which is supposed to have stretched from Cheviot Hills as far as Hamilton, and to have comprehended even a part of Ayrshire. At the fatal battle of Falkirk, Sir John Stewart of Bonkill, brother to the Steward of Scotland, com- manded the archers of Selkirk Forest, who fell around the dead body of their leader. The English historians have commemo- rated the tall and stately persons, as well as the unswerving faith, of these foresters. Nor has their interesting fall escaped the notice of an elegant modern poetess, whose subject led her to treat of that calamitous engagement. The glance of the mom had sparkled bright On their plumage green and their actons light; The bugle was strung at each hunter's side, As they had been bound to the chase to ride; But the bugle is mute, and the shafts are spent. The arm unnerved and the bow unbent, And the tired forester is laid Far, far from the clustering greenwood shade! Sore have they toil'd — they are fallen asleep. And their slumber is heavy, and dull, and deep! When over their bones the grass shall wave. When the wild winds over their tombs shall rave, Memory shall lean on their graves, and tell How Selkirk's hunters bold around old Stewart fell! Wallace, or the Fight of Falkirk [by Miss Holford], London, 4to, 1809, pp. 170, 171. Note 125, p. 385 The first important advantage gained by Bruce, after landing at Turnberry, was over Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, 581 NOTES the same by whom he had been defeated near Methven. They met, as has been said, by appointment, at Loudonhill, in the west of Scotland. Pembroke sustained a defeat ; and from that time Bruce was at the head of a considerable flying army. Yet he was subsequently obliged to retreat into Aberdeenshire, and was there assailed by Comyn, Earl of Buchan, desirous to avenge the death of his relative, the Red Comyn, and supported by a body of English troops under Philip de Moubray. Bruce was ill at the time of a scrofulous disorder, but took horse to meet his enemies, although obliged to be supported on either side. He was victorious, and it is said that the agitation of his spirits restored his health. Note 126, p. 385 The 'good Lord James of Douglas,' during these commotions, often took from the English his own castle of Douglas, but being unable to garrison it, contented himself with destroying the fortifications, and retiring into the mountains. As a reward to his patriotism, it is said to have been prophesied, that how often soever Douglas Castle should be destroyed, it should always again arise more magnificent from its ruins. Upon one of these occasions he used fearful cruelty, causing all the store of provi- sions, which the English had laid up in his castle, to be heaped together, bursting the wine and beer-casks among the wheat and flour, slaughtering the cattle upon the same spot, and upon the top of the whole cutting the throats of the English prisoners. This pleasantry of the 'good Lord James' is commemorate(3 under the name of the ' Douglas's Larder.' A more pleasing tale of chivalry is recorded by Godscroft. 'By this means, and such other exploits, he so afifrighted the enemy, that it was counted a matter of great jeopardie to keep this castle, which began to be called the " adventurous " (or hazardous) " Castle of Douglas "; whereupon Sir John Walton being in suit of an English lady, she wrote to him, that when he had kept the adventurous Castle of Douglas seven years, then he might think himself worthy to be 582 NOTES a suitor to her. Upon this occasion Walton took upon him the keeping of it, and succeeded to Thruswall, but he ran the same fortune with the rest that were before him. For Sir James, having first dressed an ambuscado near unto the place, he made fourteen of his men take so many sacks, and fill them with grass, as though it had been corn, which they carried in the way to Lanark, the chief market town in that county: so hoping to draw forth the captain by that bait, and either to take him or the castle, or both. Neither was this expectation frustrated, for the captain did bite, and came forth to have taken this victual (as he supposed.) But ere he could reach these carriers. Sir James, with his company, had gotten between the castle and him; and these disguised carriers, seeing the captain following after them, did quickly cast off their sacks, mounted themselves on horseback, and met the captain with a sharp encounter, being so much the more amazed, as it was unlooked for: where- fore, when he saw these carriers metamorphosed into warriors, and ready to assault him, fearing that which was, that there was some train laid for them, he turned about to have retired to his castle, but there he also met with his enemies; between which two companies he and his whole followers were slain, so that none escaped: the captain afterwards being searched, they found (as it is reported) his mistress's letter about him.' (Hume's History of the House of Douglas, fol. pp. 29, 30,) Note 127, p. 385 'John de St. John, with 15,000 horsemen, had advanced to oppose the inroad of the Scots. By a forced march he endeav- oured to surprise them, but intelligence of his motions was timeously received. The courage of Edward Bruce, approaching to temerity, frequently enabled him to achieve what men of more judicious valour would never have attempted. He ordered the infantry, and the meaner sort of his army, to intrench them- selves in strong narrow ground. He himself, with fifty horsemen well harnessed, issued forth under cover of a thick mist, sur- 583 NOTES prised the English on their march, attacked and dispersed them.' (Dalrymple's Annals of Scotland, quarto, Edinburgh, 1779, p. 25.) Note 128, p. 385 Thomas Randolph, Bruce's sister's son, a renowned Scottish chief, was in the early part of his life not more remarkable for consistency than Bruce himself. He espoused his uncle's party when Bruce first assumed the crown, and was made prisoner at the fatal battle of Methven, in which his relative's hopes appeared to be ruined. Randolph accordingly not only sub- mitted to the English, but took an active part against Bruce, appeared in arms against him, and in the skirmish where he was so closely pursued by the bloodhound, it is said his nephew took his standard with his own hand. But Randolph was after- wards made prisoner by Douglas in Tweeddale, and brought before King Robert. Some harsh language was exchanged between the uncle and nephew, and the latter was committed for a time to close custody. Afterwards, however, they were reconciled, and Randolph was created Earl of Moray about 1312. After this period he eminently distinguished himself, first by the surprise of Edinburgh Castle, and afterwards by many similar enterprises, conducted with equal courage and ability. Note 129, p. 387 When a long train of success, actively improved by Robert Bruce, had made him master of almost all Scotland, Stirling Castle continued to hold out. The care of the blockade was committed by the King to his brother Edward, who concluded a treaty with Sir Philip Mowbray, the governor, that he should surrender the fortress, if it were not succoured by the King of England before St. John the Baptist's day. The King severely blamed his brother for the impolicy of a treaty, which gave time to the King of England to advance to the relief of the castle with all his assembled forces, and obliged himself either to meet them in battle with an inferior force, or to retreat with dis- 584 NOTES honour. 'Let all England come,' answered the reckless Edward; 'we will fight them were they more.' The consequence was, of course, that each kingdom mustered its strength for the expected battle; and as the space agreed upon reached from Lent to Midsummer, full time was allowed for that purpose. Note 130, p. 387 There is printed in Rymer's Fcedera the summons issued upon this occasion to the sheriff of York; and he mentions eighteen other persons to whom similar ordinances were issued. It seems to respect the infantry alone, for it is entitled, De peditibtis ad recussum Castri de Stryvelin a Scotis obsessi, properare faciendis. This circumstance is also clear from the reasoning of the writ, which states: 'We have understood that our Scottish enemies and rebels are endeavouring to collect as strong a force as pos- sible of infantry, in strong and marshy grounds, where the ap- proach of cavalry would be difficult, between us and the castle of Stirling.' It then sets forth Mowbray's agreement to sur- render the castle, if not relieved before St. John the Baptist's day, and the King's determination, with divine grace, to raise the siege. 'Therefore,' the summons further bears, 'to remove our said enemies and rebels from such places as above mentioned, it is necessary for us to have a strong force of infantry fit for arms.' And accordingly the sheriff of York is commanded to equip and send forth a body of four thousand infantry, to be assembled at Werk, upon the tenth day of June first, under pain of the royal displeasure, etc. Note 131, p. 388 Edward I, with the usual policy of a conqueror, employed the Welsh, whom he had subdued, to assist him in his Scottish wars, for which their habits, as mountaineers, particularly fitted them. But this policy was not without its risks. Previous to the battle of Falkirk, the Welsh quarrelled with the English men-at-arms, and after bloodshed on both parts, separated 585 NOTES themselves from his army, and the feud between them, at so dangerous and critical a juncture, was reconciled with difficulty. Edward II followed his father's example in this particular, and with no better success. They could not be brought to exert themselves in the cause of their conquerors. But they had an indifferent reward for their forbearance. Without arms, and clad only in scanty dresses of linen cloth, they appeared naked in the eyes even of the Scottish peasantry; and after the rout of Bannockburn, were massacred by them in great numbers, as they retired in confusion towards their own country. They were under command of Sir Maurice de Berkeley. Note 132, p. 388 There is in the Fcedera an invitation to Eth O'Connor, chief of the Irish of Connaught, setting forth that the king was about to move against his Scottish rebels, and therefore requesting the attendance of all the force he could muster, either commanded by himself in person, or by some nobleman of his race. These auxiliaries were to be commanded by Richard de Burgh, Earl of Ulster. Similar mandates were issued to the following Irish chiefs, whose names may astonish the unlearned, and amuse the antiquary. Eth O Donnuld, Duci Hibernicorum de Tyconil; Demod O Kahan, Duci Hibernicorum de Fernetrew; Doneval O Neel, Duci Hibernicorum de Tryowyn; Neel Macbreen, Duci Hibernicorum de Kynallewan; Eth. Offyn, Duci Hibernicorum de Turtery; Admely Mac Anegus, Duci Hibernicorum de Onehagh; Neel O Hanlan, Duci Hibernicorum de Erthere; Bien Mac Mahun, Duci Hibernicorum de Uriel; Lauercagh Mac Wyr, Duci Hibernicorum de Lougherin; Gillys O Railly, Duci Hibernicorum de Bresfeny; Geffrey O Fergy, Duci Hibernicorum de Montiragwil; Felyn O Honughur, Duci Hibernicorum de Connach; 586 4 NOTES Donethuth O Bien, Duci Hibernicorum de Tothmund ; Dermod Mac Arthy, Duci Hibernicorum de Dessemound; Denenol Carbragh; Maur. Kenenagh Mac Murgh; Murghugh O Bryn; David OTothvill; Dermod O Tonoghur, Doffaly; Fyn O Dymsy; Souethuth Mac Gillephatrick ; Leyssagh O Morth; Gilbertus Ekelly, Duci Hibernicorum de Omany; Mac Ethelau ; Omalan Helyn, Duci Hibernicorum Midie.' Rymer's Fcedera, ill, 476, 477. Note 133, p. 393 Fitz-Louis, or Mac-Louis, otherwise called Fullarton, is a family of ancient descent in the Isle of Arran. They are said to be of French origin, as the name intimates. They attached themselves to Bruce upon his first landing; and Fergus Mac- Louis, or Fullarton, received from the grateful monarch a charter, dated 26th November, in the second year of his reign (1307). for the lands of Kilmichel, and others, which still remain in this very ancient and respectable family. Note 134, p. 393 The arrangements adopted by King Robert for the decisive battle of Bannockburn are given very distinctly by Barbour, and form an edifying lesson to tacticians. Yet, till commented upon by Lord Hailes, this important passage of history has been generally and strangely misunderstood by historians. I will here endeavour to detail it fully. Two days before the battle, Bruce selected the field of action, and took post there with his army, consisting of about 30,000 587 NOTES disciplined men, and about half the number of disorderly attend- ants upon the camp. The ground was called the New Park of Stirling; it was partly open, and partly broken by copses of wood and marshy ground. He divided his regular forces into Jour divisions. Three of these occupied a front line, separated from each other, yet sufficiently near for the purposes of com- munication. The fourth division formed a reserve. The line extended in a north-easterly direction from the brook of Ban- nock, which was so rugged and broken as to cover the right flank effectually, to the village of Saint Ninian's, probably in the line of the present road from Stirling to Kilsyth. Edward Bruce commanded the right wing, which was strengthened by a strong body of cavalry under Keith, the Mareschal of Scot- land, to whom was committed the important charge of attack- ing the English archers; Douglas, and the young Steward of Scotland, led the central wing; and Thomas Randolph, Earl of Moray, the left wing. The King himself commanded the fourth division, which lay in reserve behind the others. The royal standard was pitched, according to tradition, in a stone, having a round hole for its reception, and thence called the Bore-stone. It is still shown on the top of a small eminence, called Brock's- brae, to the south-west of St. Ninian's. His main body thus dis- posed, King Robert sent the followers of the camp, fifteen thousand and upwards in number, to the eminence in rear of his army, called from that circumstance the Gillies' (i.e., the serv- ants') Hill. The military advantages of this position were obvious. The Scottish left flank, protected by the brook of Bannock, could not be turned ; or, if that attempt were made, a movement by the reserve might have covered it. Again, the English could not pass the Scottish army, and move towards Stirling, without exposing their flank to be attacked while in march. If, on the other hand, the Scottish line had been drawn up east and west, and facing to the southward, as affirmed by Buchanan, and adopted by Mr. Nimmo, the author of the History of Stirlingshire, there appears nothing to have prevented 588 NOTES the English approaching upon the carse, or level ground, from Falkirk, either from turning the Scottish left flank, or from passing their position, if they preferred it, without coming to an action, and moving on to the relief of Stirling. And the Gillies* Hill, if this less probable hypothesis be adopted, would be situ- ated, not in the rear, as allowed by all the historians, but upon the left flank of Bruce's army. The only objection to the hypothesis above laid down, is, that the left flank of Bruce's army was thereby exposed to a sally from the garrison of Stir- ling. But, first, the garrison were bound to neutrality by terms of Mowbray's treaty; and Barbour even seems to censure, as a breach of faith, some secret assistance which they rendered their countrymen upon the eve of battle, in placing temporary bridges of doors and spars over the pools of water in the carse, to enable them to advance to the charge.^ Secondly, Had this not been the case, the strength of the garrison was probably not sufficient to excite apprehension. Thirdly, The adverse hypo- thesis leaves the rear of the Scottish army as much exposed to the Stirling garrison, as the left flank would be in the case supposed. It only remains to notice the nature of the ground in front of Bruce's line of battle. Being part of a park, or chase, it was con- siderably interrupted with trees; and an extensive marsh, still visible, in some places rendered it inaccessible, and in all of difficult approach. More to the northward, where the natural impediments were fewer, Bruce fortified his position against cavalry, by digging a number of pits so close together, says Barbour, as to resemble the cells in a honey-comb. They were a foot in breadth, and between two and three feet deep, many rows of them being placed one behind the other. They were slightly covered with brushwood and green sods, so as not to be obvious to an impetuous enemy. All the Scottish army were on foot, excepting a select body of cavalry stationed with Edward Bruce on the right wing, under ' An assistance which (by the way) could not have been rendered, had not the English approached from the south-east; since, had their march been due north, the whole Scottish army must have been between them emd the garrison. NOTES the immediate command of Sir Robert Keith, the Marshal of Scotland, who were destined for the important service of charg- ing and dispersing the English archers. Thus judiciously posted, in a situation fortified both by art and nature, Bruce awaited the attack of the English. Note 135, p. 393 Upon the 23d June, 13 14, the alarm reached the Scottish army of the approach of the enemy. Douglas and the Marshal were sent to reconnoitre with a body of cavalry; And soon the great host have they seen, Where shields shining were so sheen, And basinets burnished bright, That gave against the sun great light. They saw so fele ' brawdyne ^ baners, Standards and pennons and spears, And so fele knights upon steeds, All flaming in their weeds. And so fele bataills, and so broad. And too so great room as they rode. That the maist host, and the stoutest Of Christendom, and the greatest, Should be abaysit for to see Their foes into such quantity. The Bruce, vol. ii, p. iir. The two Scottish commanders were cautious in the account which they brought back to their camp. To the King in private they told the formidable state of the enemy; but in public reported that the English were indeed a numerous host, but ill commanded and worse disciplined. Note 136, p. 394 The men of Argyle, the islanders, and the Highlanders in general, were ranked in the rear. They must have been numer- ous, for Bruce had reconciled himself with almost all their chief- tains, excepting the obnoxious MacDougals of Lorn. The follow- ing deed, containing the submission of the potent Earl of Ross to > Many. ' Displayed. NOTES the King, was never before published. It is dated in the third year of Robert's reign, that is, 1309. 'Obligacio Comitis Rossensis per Homagium Fidelitatem et Scriphim 'Universis christi fidelibus ad quorum noticiam presentes litere peruenerint VVillielmus Comes de Ross salutem in domino sempiternam. Quia magnificus princeps Dominus Robertus dei gracia Rex Scottorum Dominus meus ex innata sibi bonitate, inspirataque clemencia, et gracia speciali remisit michi pure rancorem animi sui, et ralaxauit ac condonauit michi omni- modas transgressiones seu ofTensas contra ipsum et suos per me et meos vsque ad confeccionem literarum presencium per- petratas: Et terras meas et tenementa mea omnia graciose concessit. Et me nichilominus de terra de Dingwal et fern- croskry infra comitatum de Suthyrland de benigna liberalitate sua heriditarie infeodare curauit. Ego tantam principis beneuo- lenciam efificaciter attendens, et pro tot graciis michi factis, vicem sibi gratitudinis meis pro viribus de cetero digne . . . vite cupiens exhibere, subicio et oblige me et heredes meos et homines meos vniuersos dicto Domino meo Regi per omnia . . . erga suam regiam dignitatem, quod erimus de cetero fideles sibi et heredibus suis et fidele sibi seruicium auxilium et concilium . . . contra omnes homines et feminas qui vivere poterint aut mori, et super h . . . Ego VVillielmus pro me . . . hominibus meis vniuersis dicto domino meo Regi . . . manibus homagium sponte feci et super dei ewangelia sacramentum prestiti. . . . In quorum omnium testimonium sigillum meum, et sigilla Hugonis filii et heredis et Johannis filii mei vna cum sigillis venerabilium patrum Dominorum Dauid et Thome Moraviensis et Rossensis dei gracia episcoporum presentibus literis sunt appensa. Acta scripta et data apud Aldern in Morauia vltimo die mensis Octobris, Anno Regni dicti domini nostri Regis Roberti Tertio. Testibus venerabilibus patribus supradictis. Domino Bernardo Cancellario Regis, Dominis Willielmo de Haya, Johanne de Striuelyn, Willielmo Wysman, Johanne de 591 NOTES Ffenton, Dauid de Berkeley, et Waltero de Berkeley militibus, magistro Waltero Heroc, Decano ecclesie Morauie, magistro WilHelmo de Creswel eiusdem ecclesie precentore et multis aliis nobilibus clericis et laicis dictis die et loco congregatis.' The copy of this curious document was supplied by my friend, Mr. Thomson, Deputy Register of Scotland, whose researches into our ancient records are daily throwing new and important light upon the history of the country. Note 137, p. 396 The English vanguard, commanded by the Earls of Gloucester and Hereford, came in sight of the Scottish army upon the even- ing of the 23d of June. Bruce was then riding upon a little palfrey, in front of his foremost line, putting his host in order. It was then that the personal encounter took place betwixt him and Sir Henry de Bohun, a gallant English knight, the issue of which had a great effect upon the spirits of both armies. It is thus recorded by Barbour: — And quhen Glosyster and Herfurd war With thair bataill, approchand ner, Befor thaim all thar come o'dand. With helm on heid, and sper in hand Schyr Henry the Boune, the worth!, That wes a wycht knycht, and a hardy; And to the Erie off Herfurd cusyne: Armyt in armys gud and fyne; Come on a sted, a bow schote ner, Befor all othyr that thar wer: And knew the King, for that he saw Him swa rang his men on raw; And by the croune, that wes set Alsiia apon his bassynet. And towart him he went in hy. And [quhen] the King sua apertly Saw him cum, forouth all his feris,* In hy ' till him the hors he steris. And quhen Schyr Henry saw the King Cum on, for owtyn abaysing,' Till him he raid in full gret hy. He thoucht that he suld will lychtly » Cemrades. • Haste. • Without shrinking. NOTES Wyn him, and haf him at his will. Sen he him horsyt saw sa ill. Sprent ' thai samyn in till a ling.' Schyr Henry myssit the noble king. And he, that in his sterapys stud, With the ax that wes hard and gud. With sa gret mayne ' raucht him a dynt, That nothyr hat, na helm, mycht stynt The hewy* dusche^ that he him gave. That ner the heid till the harnys clave. The hand ax shaft fruschit' in twa; And he doune to the erd gan ga All flatlynys,' for him faillyt mycht. This wes the fryst strak off the fycht. Barbour's Bruce, book vm, v. 684. The Scottish leaders remonstrated with the King upon his temerity. He only answered, *I have broken my good battle- axe.' The English vanguard retreated after witnessing this single combat. Probably their generals did not think it advis- able to hazard an attack, while its unfavourable issue remained upon their minds. Note 138, p. 402 While the van of the English army advanced, a detached body attempted to relieve Stirling. Lord Hailes gives the following account of this manoeuvre and the result, which is accompanied by circumstances highly characteristic of the chivalrous man- ners of the age, and displays that generosity which reconciles us even to their ferocity upon other occasions. Bruce had enjoined Randolph, who commanded the left wing of his army, to be vigilant in preventing any advanced parties of the English from throwing succours into the castle of Stirling. 'Eight hundred horsemen, commanded by Sir Robert Clifford, were detached from the English army; they made a circuit by the low grounds to the east, and approached the castle. The King perceived their motions, and coming up to Randolph, angrily exclaimed, "Thoughtless man! you have suffered the enemy to pass." Randolph hasted to repair his fault, or perish. As he advanced, the English cavalry wheeled to attack him. * Spurred. » Line. « Strength, or force. « Heavy. • Clash. • Broke. ' Flat. *» 593 NOTES Randolph drew up his troops in a circular form, with their spears resting on the ground, and protended on every side. At the first onset. Sir William Daynecourt, an English commander of distinguished note, was slain. The enemy, far superior in num- bers to Randolph, environed him, and pressed hard on his little band. Douglas saw his jeopardy, and requested the king's permission to go and succour him. "You shall not move from your ground," cried the King; "let Randolph extricate himself as he best may. I will not alter my order of battle, and lose the advantage of my position." "In truth," replied Douglas, "I cannot stand by and see Randolph perish; and, therefore, with your leave, I must aid him." The King unwillingly consented, and Douglas f^ew to the assistance of his friend. While approach- ing, he perceived that the English were falling into disorder, and that the perseverance of Randolph had prevailed over their impetuous courage. "Halt," cried Douglas, "those brave men have repulsed the enemy; let us not diminish their glory by sharing it. " ' (Dalrymple's Annals of Scotland, 4to, Edinburgh, 1779, pp. 44, 45-) Two large stones erected at the north end of the village of Newhouse, about a quarter of a mile from the south part of Stirling, ascertain the place of this memorable skirmish. The circumstance tends, were confirmation necessary, to support the opinion of Lord Hailes, that the Scottish line had Stirling on its left flank. It will be remembered, that Randolph com- manded infantry, Daynecourt cavalry. Supposing, therefore, according to the vulgar hypothesis, that the Scottish line was drawn up, facing to the south, in the line of the brook of Ban- nock, and consequently that Randolph was stationed with his left flank resting upon Milntown bog, it is morally impossible that his infantry, moving from that position, with whatever celerity, could cut off" from Stirling a body of cavalry who had already passed St. Ninian's,^ or, in other words, were already between them and the town. Whereas, supposing Randolph's > Barbour says expressly, they avoided the New Park, (where Bruce 's army lay,) and held 'well neath the Kirk.' which can only mean St. Ninian's. 594 NOTES left to have approached Saint Ninian's, the short movement to Newhouse could easily be executed, so as to intercept the English in the manner described. Note 139, p. 405 There is an old tradition, that the well-known Scottish tune of 'Hey, tutti taitti,' was Bruce 's march at the battle of Bannock- burn. The late Mr. Ritson, no granter of propositions, doubts whether the Scots had any martial music, quotes Froissart's ac- count of each soldier in the host bearing a little horn, on which, at the onset, they would make such a horrible noise, as if all the devils of hell had been among them. He observes, that these horns are the only music mentioned by Barbour, and concludes, that it must remain a moot point whether Bruce's army were cheered by the sound even of a solitary bagpipe. {Historical Essay prefixed to Ritson' s Scottish Songs.) It may be observed in passing, that the Scottish of this period certainly observed some musical cadence, even in winding their horns, since Bruce was at once recognised by his followers from his mode of blowing. See Note 11 1. But the tradition, true or false, has been the means of securing to Scotland one of the finest lyrics in the language, the celebrated war-song of Burns, — 'Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled.' Note 140, p. 405 Upon the 24th of June, the English army advanced to the attack. The narrowness of the Scottish front, and the nature of the ground, did not permit them to have the full advantage of their numbers, nor is it very easy to find out what was their proposed order of battle. The vanguard, however, appeared a distinct body, consisting of archers and spearmen on foot, and commanded, as already said, by the Earls of Gloucester and Hereford. Barbour, in one place, mentions that they formed nine battles, or divisions; but from the following passage, it 595 NOTES appears that there was no room or space for them to extend themselves, so that, except the vanguard, the whole army appeared to form one solid and compact body : — The English men, on either party. That as angels shone brightly. Were not arrayed on such manner: For all their battles samyn' were In a schiltrum.2 But whether it was Through the great straitness of the place That they were in, to bide fighting; Or that it was for abaysing; ' I wete not. But in a schiltrum It seemed they were all and some; Out ta'en the vaward anerly,* That right with a great company. Be them selwyn, arrayed were. Who had been by, might have seen there That folk ourtake amekill feild On breadth, where many a shining shield, And many a burnished bright armour, And many a man of great valour. Might in that great schiltrum be seen: And many a bright banner and sheen.' Barbour's Bruce, vol. ii, p. 137. Note 141, p. 406 * 'Maurice, Abbot of Inchaffray, placing himself on an emi- nence, celebrated mass in sight of the Scottish army. He then passed along the front, barefooted, and bearing a crucifix in his hands, and exhorting the Scots in few and forcible words, to com- bat for their rights and their liberty. The Scots kneeled down. "They yield," cried Edward; "see, they implore mercy." "They > Together. « Schillrum. — This word has been variously limited or extended in its significa- tion. In general, it seems to imply a large body of men drawn up very closely to- gether. But it has been limited to imply a round or circular body of men so drawn up. I cannot understand it with this limitation in the present case. The schiltrum of the Scottish army at Falkirk was undoubtedly of a circular form, in order to resist the attacks of the English cavalry, on whatever quarter they might be charged. But it does not appear how, or why, the English, advancing to the attack at Bannockbum, should have arrayed themselves in a circular form. It seems more probable, that, by Schiltrum in the present case, Barbour means to express an irregular mass into which the English army was compressed by the unwieldiness of its numbers, and the carelessness or ignorance of its leaders. ' Frightening. * Alone. 596 NOTES do," answered Ingelram de Umfraville, "but not ours. On that field they will be victorious, or die.'" (Ajinals of Scotland, ii, 47-) Note 142, p. 408 The English archers commenced the attack with their usual bravery and dexterity. But against a force, whose importance he had learned by fatal experience, Bruce was provided. A small but select body of cavalry were detached from the right, under command of Sir Robert Keith. They rounded, as I con- ceive, the marsh called Milntown bog, and, keeping the firm ground, charged the left flank and rear of the English archers. As the bowmen had no spears, nor long weapons, fit to defend themselves against horse, they were instantly thrown into dis- order, and spread through the whole English army a confusion, from which they never fairly recovered. The Inglis archeris schot sa fast. That mycht thair schot hafi ony last, It had bene hard to Scottis men. Bot King Robert, that wele gan ken ' That thair archeris war peralouss, And thair schot rycht hard and grewouss, Ordanyt, forouth 2 the assemble, Hys marschell with a gret menye, Fyve hundre armyt in to stele, That on lycht horss war horsyt welle, For to pryk' amang the archeris; And swa assaile thaim with thair speris. That thai na layser haiff to schute. This marschell that Ik of mute,* That Schyr Robert of Keyth was cauld. As Ik befor her has yow tauld, Quhen he saw the bataillis sua Assembill, and to gidder ga, And saw the archeris schoyt stoutly; With all thaim off his cumpany, In hy apon thaim gan he rid; And our tuk thaim at a sid;6 And ruschyt amang thaim sa rudly, Stekand thaim sa dispitously, And in sic fusoun^ berand doun. And slayand thaim, for owtyn ransoun;^ That thai thaim scaly t^ euirilkane.' • Know. ' Disjoined from the main body. ' Spur. * That I speak of. " Set upon their flank. ' Numbers. ' Ransom, ' Dispersed. » Every one. 597 NOTES And fra that tyme furth thar wes nane That assemblyt schot to ma.' Quhen Scottis archeris saw that thai sua War rebutyt,^ thai woux hardy, And with all thair mycht schot egrely Amang the horss men, that thar raid; And woundis wid to thaim thai maid; And slew of thaim a full gret dele. Barbour's Bruce, book ix, v. 228 Although the success of this manoeuvre was evident, it is very remarkable that the Scottish generals do not appear to have profited by the lesson. Almost every subsequent battle which they lost against England, was decided by the archers, to whom the close and compact array of the Scottish phalanx afforded an exposed and unresisting mark. The bloody battle of Hali- doun Hill, fought scarce twenty years afterwards, was so com- pletely gained by the archers, that the English are said to have lost only one knight, one esquire, and a few foot-soldiers. At the battle of Neville's Cross, in 1346, where David II was defeated and made prisoner, John de Graham, observing the loss which the Scots sustained from the English bowmen, offered to charge and disperse them, if a hundred men-at-arms were put under his command. 'But, to confess the truth,' says Fordun, * he could not procure a single horseman for the service proposed.' Of such little use is experience in war, where its results are opposed by habit or prejudice. Note 143, p. 409 Roger Ascham quotes a similar Scottish proverb, 'whereby they give the whole praise of shooting honestly to Englishmen, saying thus, "that every English archer beareth under his girdle twenty-four Scottes." Indeed Toxophilus says before, and truly of the Scottish nation, "The Scottes surely be good men of warre in theyre owne feates as can be; but as for shoot- inge, they can neither use it to any profite, nor yet challenge it for any praise."' {Works of Ascham, edited by Bennet, 4to, p. no.) > Make. ' Driven back. NOTES It is said, I trust incorrectly, by an ancient English historian, that the ' good Lord James of Douglas ' dreaded the superiority of the English archers so much, that when he made any of them prisoner, he gave him the option of losing the forefinger of his right hand, or his right eye, either species of mutilation render- ing him incapable to use the bow. I have mislaid the reference to this singular passage. Note 144, p. 410 It is generally alleged by historians, that the English men-at- arms fell into the hidden snare which Bruce had prepared for them. Barbour does not mention the circumstance. According to his account, Randolph, seeing the slaughter made by the cavalry on the right wing among the archers, advanced cour- ageously against the main body of the English, and entered into close combat with them. Douglas and Stuart, who com- manded the Scottish centre, led their division also to the charge, and the battle becoming general along the whole line, was obstinately maintained on both sides for a long space of time; the Scottish archers doing great execution among the English men-at-arms, after the bowmen of England were dispersed. Note 145, p. 410 I have been told that this line requires an explanatory note; and, indeed, those who witness the silent patience with which horses submit to the most cruel usage, may be permitted to doubt, that, in moments of sudden or intolerable anguish, they utter a most melancholy cry. Lord Erskine, in a speech made in the House of Lords, upon a bill for enforcing humanity towards animals, noticed this remarkable fact, in language which I will not mutilate by attempting to repeat it. It was my fortune, upon one occasion, to hear a horse, in a moment of agony, utter a thrilling scream, which I still consider the most melancholy sound I ever heard. 599 NOTES Note 146, p. 414 When the engagement between the main bodies had lasted some time, Bruce made a decisive movement, by bringing up the Scottish reserve. It is traditionally said, that at this crisis, he addressed the Lord of the Isles in a phrase used as a motto by some of his descendants, ' My trust is constant in thee.' Barbour intimates, that the reserve 'assembled on one field,' that is, on the same line with the Scottish forces already engaged; which leads Lord Hailes to conjecture that the Scottish ranks must have been much thinned by slaughter, since, in that circum- scribed ground, there was room for the reserve to fall into the line. But the advance of the Scottish cavalry must have con- tributed a good deal to form the vacancy occupied by the reserve. Note 147, p. 416 The followers of the Scottish camp observed, from the Gillies' Hill in the rear, the impression produced upon the English army by the bringing up of the Scottish reserve, and, prompted by the enthusiasm of the moment, or the desire of plunder, assumed, in a tumultuary manner, such arms as they found nearest, fastened sheets to tent-poles and lances, and showed themselves like a new army advancing to battle. Yomen, and swanys,» and pitaill,' That in the Park yemyt wictaill,' War left; quhen thai wyst but lesing,* That thair lordis, with fell fechtyng, On thair fayis assemblyt wer; Ane off thaim selwyn ' that war thar Capitane of thaim all thai maid. And schetis, that war sumedele' brad, Thai festnyt in steid off baneris, Apon lang treys and speris: And said that thai wald se the fycht; And help thair lordis at thair mycht. Quhen her till all assentyt wer. In a rout assemblit er; ' Fyftene thowsand thai war, or ma. And than in gret hy gan thai ga, ' Swains. ' Rabble. » Kept the provisions. * Lying. ' Selves. • Somewhat. ' Are. 600 NOTES With thair baneris, all in a rout. As thai had men bene styth ' and stout. Thai come, with all that assembl6, Rycht quhill thai mycht the bataill se; Than all at anys thai gave a cry, 'Slai Sla! Apon thaim hastily!' Barbour's Bruce, Book IX, v. 410. \ The unexpected apparition, of what seemed a new army, com- pleted the confusion which already prevailed among the Eng- lish, who fled in every direction, and were pursued with immense slaughter. The brook of Bannock, according to Barbour, was so choked with the bodies of men and horses, that it might have been passed dry-shod. The followers of the Scottish camp fell upon the disheartened fugitives, and added to the confusion and slaughter. Many were driven into the Forth, and perished there, which, by the way, could hardly have happened, had the armies been drawn up east and west, since, in that case, to get at the river, the English fugitives must have fled through the victorious army. About a short mile from the field of battle is a place called the Bloody Folds. Here the Earl of Gloucester is said to have made a stand, and died gallantly at the head of his own military tenants and vassals. He was much regretted by both sides ; and it is said the Scottish would gladly have saved his life, but, neglecting to wear his surcoat with armorial bear- ings over his armour, he fell unknown, after his horse had been stabbed with spears. Sir Marmaduke Twenge, an English knight, contrived to con- ceal himself during the fury of the pursuit, and when it was somewhat slackened, approached King Robert. 'Whose pris- oner are you. Sir Marmaduke? ' said Bruce, to whom he was per- sonally known. 'Yours, sir,' answered the knight. 'I receive you,' answered the King, and, treating him with the utmost courtesy, loaded him with gifts, and dismissed him without ransom. The other prisoners were all well treated. There might be policy in this, as Bruce would naturally wish to acquire the good opinion of the English barons, who were at this time at great variance with their king. But it also well accords with his high chivalrous character. « Stifi. 6oi NOTES Note 148, p. 416 Edward II, according to the best authorities, showed, in the fatal field of Bannockburn, personal gallantry not unworthy of his great sire and greater son. He remained on the field till forced away by the Earl of Pembroke, when all was lost. He then rode to the Castle of Stirling, and demanded admittance; but the governor, remonstrating upon the imprudence of shut- ting himself up in that fortress, which must so soon surrender, he assembled around his person five hundred men-at-arms, and, avoiding the field of battle and the victorious army, fled towards Linlithgow, pursued by Douglas with about sixty horse. They were augmented by Sir Lawrence Abernethy with twenty more, whom Douglas met in the Torwood upon their way to join the English army, and whom he easily persuaded to desert the defeated monarch, and to assist in the pursuit. They hung upon Edward's flight as far as Dunbar, too few in number to assail him with effect, but enough to harass his retreat so con- stantly, that whoever fell an instant behind, was instantly slain, or made prisoner. Edward's ignominious flight terminated at Dunbar, where the Earl of March, who still professed allegiance | to him, 'received him full gently.' From thence, the monarch v of so great an empire, and the late commander of so gallant and .' numerous an army, escaped to Bamborough in a fishing vessel. . Bruce, as will appear from the following document, lost no time in directing the thunders of parliamentary censure against such part of his subjects as did not return to their natural allegiance after the battle of Bannockburn. Apud Monasterium de Cambuskenneth, ■ vi die novembris, m,ccc,xiv. Judicium Reditum apud Kamhuskinet contra omnes illos qui tunc fuerunt contra fidem et pacem Domini Regis. Anno grade millesimo tricentisimo quarto decimo sexto die Novembris tenente parliamentum suum Excellentissimo prin- 602 NOTES cipe Domino Roberto Dei gracia Rege Scottorum Illustri In monasterio de Cambuskyneth concordatum fuit finaliter Judicatum [ac super] hoc statutum de Concilio et Assensu Episcoporum et ceterorum Prelatorum Comitum Baronum et aliorum nobilium regni Scocie nee non et tocius communitatis regni predicti quod omnes qui contra fidem et pacem dicti domini regis in bello seu alibi mortui sunt [vel qui die] to die ad pacem ejus et fidem non venerant licet sepius vocati et legitime expectati fuissent de terris et tenementis et omni alio statu infra regnum Scocie perpetuo sint exheredati et habeantur de cetero tanquam inimici Regis et Regni ab omni vendicacione juris hereditarii vel juris alterius cujuscunque in posterum pro se et heredibus suis in perpetuum privati Ad perpetuam igitur rei memoriam et evidentem probacionem hujus Judicii et Statuti sigilla Episcoporum et aliorum Prelatorum nee non et comitum Baronum ac ceterorum nobilium dicti Regni present! ordina- cioni Judicio et statuto sunt appensa. Sigillum Domini Regis Sigillum Willelmi Episcopi Sancti Andree Sigillum Roberti Episcopi Glascuensis Sigillum Willelmi Episcopi Dunkeldensis . . . Episcopi . . . Episcopi . . . Episcopi . Sigillum Alani Episcopi Sodorensis Sigillum Johannis Episcopi Brechynensis Sigillum Andree Episcopi Ergadiensis Sigillum Frechardi Episcopi Cathanensis Sigillum Abbatis de Scona Sigillum Abbatis de Calco Sigillum Abbatis de Abirbrothok Sigillum Abbatis de Sancta Cruce Sigillum Abbatis de Londoris Sigillum Abbatis de Newbotill Sigillum Abbatis de Cupro Sigillum Abbatis de Paslet 603 NOTES Sigillum Abbatis de Dunfermelyn Sigillum Abbatis de Lincluden Sigillum Abbatis de Insula Missarum Sigillum Abbatis de Sancto Columba Sigillum Abbatis de Deer Sigillum Abbatis de Dulce Corde Sigillum Prions de Coldinghame Sigillum Prioris de Rostynot Sigillum Prioris Sancte Andree Sigillum Prioris de Pettinwem Sigillum Prioris de Insula de Lochlevin Sigillum Senescalli Scocie Sigillum Willelmi Comitis de Ros Sigillum Gilbert! de la Haya Constabularii Scocie Sigillum Roberti de Keth Mariscalli Scocie Sigillum Hugonis de Ros Sigillum Jacobi de Duglas Sigillum Johannis de Sancto Clare Sigillum Thome de Ros Sigillum Alexandri de Settone Sigillum Walteri Haliburtone Sigillum Davidis de Balfour Sigillum Duncani de Wallays Sigillum Thome de Dischingtone Sigillum Andree de Moravia Sigillum Archibald! de Betun Sigillum Ranulphi de Lyill Sigilium Malcomi de Balfour Sigillum Normanni de Lesley Sigillum Nigelli de Campo bello Sigillum Morni de Musco Campo i I 604 NOTES Note 149, p. 420 The remarkable circumstances attending the death of De Argentine have been already noticed (Note 77). Besides this renowned warrior, there fell many representatives of the noblest houses in England, which never sustained a more bloody and dis- astrous defeat. Barbour says that two hundred pairs of gilded spurs were taken from the field of battle ; and that some were left the author can bear witness, who has in his possession a curious antique spur, dug up in the morass, not long since. It wes forsuth a gret ferly. To se samyni sa fele dede lie. Twa hundre payr of spuria reid,' War tane of knichtis that war deid. I am now to take my leave of Barbour, not without a sincere wish that the public may encourage the undertaking of my friend Dr. Jamieson, who has issued proposals for publishing an accu- rate edition of his poem, and of Blind Harry's Wallace. The only good edition of The Bruce was published by Mr. Pinkerton, in 3 vols., in 1790; and, the learned editor having had no per- sonal access to consult the manuscript, it is not without errors; and it has besides become scarce. Of Wallace there is no toler- able edition; yet these two poems do no small honour to the early state of Scottish poetry, and The Bruce is justly regarded as containing authentic historical facts. The following list of the slain at Bannockburn, extracted from the continuator of Trivet's Annals, will show the extent of the national calamity. List of the Slain Barons and Knights Bannerets Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, John de Montfort, Robert de Clifford, Nicolas de Hasteleigh, Payan Tybetot, William Dayncourt, William Le Mareschal, iEgidius de Argenteyne, John Comyn, Edmond Comyn, William de Vescey, John Lovel (the rich), « Together. « Red, or gilded. 605 NOTES Edmund de Hastynge, Milo de Stapleton, Simon Ward, Henry de Boun, Thomas de Ufford, John de Elsingfelde, John de Harcourt, Walter de Hakelut, Philip de Courtenay, Robert de Felton, Michael Poyning, Edmund Maulley. Knights Hugo de Scales, Radulph de Beauchamp, John de Penbrigge, With thirty-three others of the same rank, not named. Prisoners Barons and Baronets Henry de Boun, Earl of Hereford, Lord John Giffard, William de Latimer, Maurice de Berkley, Ingelram de Umfraville, Marmaduke de Twenge, John de Wyletone, Robert de Maulee, Henry Fitz-Hugh, Thomas de Gray, Walter de Beauchamp, Thomas de Berkeley, The son of Roger Tyrrel, Anselm de Mareschal, Giles de Beauchamp, John de Cyfrewast, John Bluwet, Roger Corbet, Gilbert de Boun, Bartholomew de Enefeld, Thomas de Ferrers, Radulph and Thomas Bottetort, John and Nicholas de Kingstoae (brothers), , Richard de Charon, John de Wevelmton, Robert de Nevil, John de Segrave, Gilbert Peeche, John de Clavering, Antony de Lucy, Radulph de Caraya, John de Evere, Andrew de Abremhyn. Knights William Lovel, Henry de Wileton, Baldwin de Fevrill, John de Clivedon,> Adomar la Zouche, John de Merewode, John Maufe,2 Thomas and Odo Lele Ercedekene, Robert Beaupel (the son), John Mautravers (the son), William and William Giffard, and thirty-four other knights, not named by the historian. And in sum there were there slain, along with the Earl of Gloucester, forty-two barons and bannerets. The number of earls, barons, and bannerets made captive, was twenty-two, and sixty-eight knights. Many clerks and esquires were also there slain or taken. Roger de Northburge, keeper of the King's * Supposed Clinton. > Maule. 606 NOTES signet (Custos TargicB Domini Regis), was made prisoner with his two clerks, Roger de VVakenfelde and Thomas de Switon, upon which the King caused a seal to be made, and entitled it his 'privy seal,' to distinguish the same from the signet so lost. The Earl of Hereford was exchanged against Bruce's queen, who had been detained in captivity ever since the year 1306. The Targia, or signet, was restored to England, through the intercession of Ralph de Monthermer, ancestor of Lord Moira, who is said to have found favour in the eyes of the Scottish king. (Continuation of Trivet's Annals, Hall's edit. Oxford, 1712, II, p. 14.) Such were the immediate consequences of the field of Ban- nockburn. Its more remote effects, in completely establishing the national independence of Scotland, afford a boundless field for speculation. GLOSSARY abbaye, an abbey. aboon, above. abye, atone for. acton, a buckram vest worn ander armour. ain, own. air, a sand-bank. airn, iron. almagest, an astronomical or astro- logical treatise. Almayn, German. amice, an ecclesiastical vestment. amrie, ambry, a cupboard, a locker. an, if. ance, once. ane, one. anerly, alone. aneugh, enough. angel, an old English gold coin. arquebus, a hagbut, or heavy musket. assagay, a slender spear or lance. atabal, a kind of kettle-drum. auld, old; auld Reekie, Edinburgh. aventayle, the movable front of a helmet. avoid thee, begone. bairn, a child. baith, both. baldric, a belt. bale, a beacon-fire. ballium, a fortified court. bandelier, a belt for carrying ammu- nition. ban-dog, a watch-dog. bandrol, a kind of banner or ensign. banes, bones. bang, strike violently, beat, surpass. barbican, the fortification at a castle- gate. barded, armoured (said of horses). barding, horse-armour. barret-cap, a cloth cap. bartizan, a small overhanging turret. basnet, basinet, a light helmet, bassened, having a white stripe down the face. battalia, a battalion, an army {not a plural), battle, an army. beadsman, one hired to offer prayers for another. beamed, having a horn of the fourth year. beaver, the movable front of a helmet. Beltane, the first of May (a Celtic festival). bend, bind. bend (noun), a heraldic term, bent, a slope; also, aimed, beshrew, may evil befall, confound, bicker, a cup, a wooden vessel, bickering, quivering, flashing. bill, a kind of battle-axe or halberd, billmen, troops armed with the bill, black-jack, a leather jug or pitcher, blaze, blazon, proclaim, blink, a glimpse. bluidy, bloody. bonaU, i. e., bonallez, a god-speed, parting with a friend. bonnet-pieces, gold coins with the king's cap (bonnet) on them, boot and bale, help and hurt. boune, bowne, prepare, make ready, boune, ready, prepared. bountith, a gratuity. bourd, a jest. bow o' kye, a herd of cattle, bower, a chamber, a lodging-place, a lady's apartments. bra', braw, brave. brach, a bitch-hound, bracken, fern. brae, a hillside. braid, broad. branking, prancing, i brast, burst. 49 609 GLOSSARY bratchet, a slowhound. brigantine, a kind of body armour. brigg, a bridge. brock, a badger. broke, quartered (the cutting up of a deer). brose, broth, brotikins, buskins, bufif, a thick cloth. burn, burnie, a brook, busk, dress, prepare. buxom, lively. by times, betimes, early. caird, a tinker. cairn, a heap of stones, a rocky point. canna, cotton-grass. cantle, the crown. canty, cheerful, lively. cap of maintenance, a cap worn by the king-at-arms or chief herald. carle, a fellow. carline, a woman, a witch. carp, talk. cast, a pair (of hawks). causey, a causeway. chanters, the pipes of the bagpipe. check at, meditate attack (in fal- conry). cheer, face, countenance. claymore, a large sword. clerk, a scholar. clip, clasp, embrace. clout, mend. cogie, a small wooden bowl. combust, an astrological term. corbel, a bracket. coronach, a dirge. correi, a hollow in a hillside, a resort of game. crabs, crab-apples. craig, the head. crenell, an aperture for shooting ar- rows through. cresset, a hanging lamp or chande- lier. crouse, bold. cuish, a thigh-piece of armour. culver, a small cannon. ciunber, trouble. cummer, a gossip, an intimate friend, curch, a matron's coif, or head-dress, cushat-dove, a wood-pigeon, cutty, short. daggled, bespattered. darkling, in the dark. daunder, saunter, wander. daunton, subdue, tame. deas, a dais, a platform. deft, skilful. demi-volt, a movement in horseman- ship. dem, hid. dight, decked, dressed, prepared. dingle, a closely wooded hollow. dinna, do not. dinnle, tinkle, thrill. dint, strike, knock. dirdum, an uproar. donjon, the main tower or keep of a castle. doom, judgment, arbitration. double tressure, a kind of border in heraldry. dought, was able, could. down, a hill. downa, do not. dramock, meal and water. drie, suffer, endure. drouth, thirst. duddies, rags, tatters. dwam, a swoon, a fainting fit. earn, erne, an eagle, ebiu-nine, made of ivory, een, eyes. embossed,exhausted by running, foam- ing at the mouth (hunter's term), emprise, enterprise. ensenzie, an ensign, a war-cry. even, spotless, pure. failzie, failure. falcon, a kind of small cannon. fand, found. fang, to catch. far yaud, the signal made by a shep- herd to his dog, when he is to drive away some sheep at a distance. 1 6lO GLOSSARY Pastern's night, Shrove Tuesday. fauld, a sheepfold. fay, faith. ferlie, a marvel. fieldfare, a species of thrush. fleech, flatter, cajole. flemens-firth, an asylum for outlaws. foray, a predatory inroad. force, a waterfall. fosse, a ditch, a moat. fou, full, tipsy. frae, from. fretted, adorned with raised work. fro, from. frounced, flounced, plaited. gae, go; gaed, went, gaitling, a young child. galUard, a lively dance, gallowglasses, heavy-armed soldiers (Celtic). gane, gone, gang, go. gar, make. gazehound, a hound that pursues by sight rather than scent. gear, goods, possessions. gent, high-born, vahant and courteous, gest, a deed, an exploit, ghast, ghastly. gie, give. gin, if. gipon, a doublet or jacket worn under armour. glaive, a broadsword, glamour, a magical illusion, glee-maiden, a dancing-girl, gleg, quick, sharp, lively, glidders, slippery stones, glozing, flattering. gonfalone, a banner or ensign, gorged, having the throat cut. gorget, armour for the throat, graith, armour, gramarye, magic, gramercy, great thanks (French, grand merci). gree, grie, prize. greese, fat; hart of greese, a fat hart, greet and grane, weep and groan. gripple, grasping, miserly, grisly, horrible, grim. guarded, edged, trimmed. gude, good. gules, red (heraldic). gylte, a young sow. hackbuteer, a soldier armed with hackbut or hagbut, a musketeer. hae't, haet, an atom. haffets, cheeks. hag, broken ground in a bog. hagbut (hackbut, haquebut, arque- bus, harquebuss, etc.), a heavy musket. halberd, halbert, a combined spear and battle-axe. hale, haul, drag. hame, home. handsel, a gift, earnest money. hanger, a short broadsword. harried, plundered, sacked. baud, hold. hearse, a canopy over a tomb, or the tomb itself. heeze, heise, hoist, raise. hent, seize. heriot, tribute due to a lord from a vassal. heron-shew, a young heron. hight, called, named, promised. holt, wood, woodland. hosen, hose (old plural). howf, howff, a haunt, a resort. idlesse, idleness. ilka, each, every. imp, a child. inch, an island. jack, a leather Jacket, a kind of ar- mour for the body. jennet, a small Spanish horse. jerkin, a kind of short coat. jerrid, a wooden javelin about five feet long. jowing, ringing or tolling. kale, broth, kebbuck, cheese. 6ii GLOSSARY keek, peep. ken, know. kern, a light-armed soldier (Celtic). kill, a cell. kipper, salmon or sea trout. kirk, a church. kirn, the Scottish harvest-home. kirtle, a skirt, a gown. kist, a chest. kittle, ticklish, delicate. knosp, a knob (architectural). knowe, a knoll, a hillock. kye, cows. lair, learning. lair, to stick in the mud. largesse, largess, liberality, gift. lauds, psalms. launcegay, a kind of spear. laverock, a lark. leading-staff, a staff carried by a commanding officer. leaguer, a camp. leal-fast, loyal, faithful. leash, a thong for leading a grey- hound; also the hounds so led. leister, to spear. leven, a lawn, an open space between or among woods. leveret, a young hare. levin, lightning, thunderbolt. libbard, a leopard. Lincoln green, a cloth worn by hunts- men. linn, a waterfall, a pool below a fall, a precipice. linstock, lintstock, a handle for the lint or match used in firing cannon. lists, the enclosure for a tournament. litherlie, mischievous, vicious. loon, a rogue, a strumpet. loot, let. lorn, lost. loup, leap. lourd, rather. lout, bend, stoop. lurch, rob. lurcher, a dog that lurches (lurks), or lies in wait for game. lurdane, a blockhead. lyke-wake, the watching of a corpse before burial. lyme-dog, a bloodhound. mair, more. make, do. malison, a malediction, a curse. Malvoisie, Malmsey wine. march, a border, a frontier. march-treason, offences committed on the Border, massy, massive, maukin, a hare, maun, must, mavis, the thrush. mazers, large drinking cups or goblets, meikle, much, great. mell, melle, meddle. merk, a Scottish coin worth about merle, the blackbird, merlin, a species of falcon, mewed, shut up, confined. mickle, much, great. minion, favourite, miniver, a kind of fur. mirk, dark. mony, many. moonlight, smuggled spirits, morion, a steel cap, a helmet, morrice-pike, a long heavy spear, morris, a kind of dance, morsing-homs, powder-flasks, moss, a morass, a bog. mot, mote, must, might, muckle, much, large, muir, a moor, a heath, mullet, a figure of a star, usually with five straight points. nae, no. need-fire, a beacon-fire. neist, next. nese, a nose. oe, an island. O hone, alas! Omrahs, nobles (Turkish). or, gold (heraldic). orra, odd, occasional. 6l2 GLOSSARY owches, jewels, ower, over, too. pall, fine or rich cloth. pallioun, a pavilion. palmer, a pilgrim to the Holy Land. pardoner, a seller of priestly indul- gences. partisan, a halberd, a combination of spear and battle-axe. peel, a Border tower. pensils, small pennons or streamers. pentacle, a magic diagram. pibroch, a Highland air on the bag- pipe. pied, variegated. pike, pick. pinnet, a pinnacle. pirn, a spool, a reel. placket, a stomacher, a petticoat, a slit in a petticoat, etc. plate-jack, coat-armour. plump, a body of cavalry, a group, a company. poke, a sack, a pocket. port, a lively tune, a catch. post and pair, an old game at cards. pow, a head. pranked, dressed up, adorned. presence, the royal presence-chamber. pricked, spurred. pricker, a horseman, a mounted soldier. propine, a present. prore, the prow. pryse, the note blown at the death of the game. puir, poor. pursuivant, an attendant on a herald. quaigh, a wooden cup, composed of staves hooped together. quarry, game (hunter's term), quatre-feuille, quatrefoil (Gothic ornament). qtiit, requite. rack, a floating cloud. racking, flying, like a breaking cloud. rade, rode. rais, the master of a vessel. reads, counsels. reave, tear away. rebeck, an ancient musical instru- ment, an early form of the fiddle. rede, a story, counsel, advice. reiver, a plunderer, a robber. reliquaire, a repository for relics. retrograde, an astrological term. rie, a prince or chief; O hone a rie, alas for the chief 1 rin, run. risp, creak. rive, tear. rochet, a bishop's short surplice. rokelay, a short cloak. rood, a cross (as in Holy-Rood). room, a piece of land. rowan, the mountain-ash. runnel, a small stream of water. ruth, pity, compassion. sack. Sherry or Canary wine. sackless, innocent. sae, so. saga, a Scandinavian epic. sained, blessed. sair, sore, very. sail, shall. saltier, in heraldry an ordinary in the form of a St. Andrew's cross. salvo-shot, a salute of artillery, sark, a shirt. saye, say, assertion. scalds, Scandinavian minstrels, scallop, a pilgrim's cockle-shell worn as an emblem, scapular, an ecclesiastical scarf or short cloak, scathe, harm, injury. scaur, a cliS, a precipitous bank of earth. scaur'd, scared, scrae, a bank of loose stones, scrogg, a stunted tree, underwood, sea-dog, a seal, seguidille, a Spanish dance, selcouth, strange, uncouth, selle, a saddle. seneschal, the steward of a castle. 613 GLOSSARY sewer, an ofiBcer who serves up a feast. shalm, a shawm, a musical instru- ment, sheeling, a shepherd's hut. sheen, bright, shining. shent, shamed. shirra, a sheriff. shrieve, shrive, absolve. shroud, a garment, a plaid. sic, such. siller, silver. skirl, scream, sound shrilly. sleights, tricks, stratagems. slogan, the war-cry or gathering word of a Border clan. snood, a maiden's hair-band or fillet. soland, solan-goose, gannet. sooth, true, truth. sped, despatched, 'done for.' speer, speir, ask. speerings, tidings. spell, make out, study out. sperthe, a battle-axe. splent, a splinter. springlet, a small spring. spule, a shoulder. spurn, kick. stag of ten, one having ten branches on his antlers. stamock, the stomach. stance, a station. stane, stone. stark, stout, stalwart. stern, a star. sterte, started. stirrup-cup, a parting cup. stole, an ecclesiastical scarf (some- times a robe). stoled, wearing the stole. store, stored up. stoun, stown, stolen. stour, severe. stowre, battle, tumult. strain, stock, race. strath, a broad river-valley. strathspey, a Highland dance. streight, strait. strook, struck, stricken. stumah, faithful. swith, haste, quickly. syde, long. syne, since; lang syne, long ago. tabard, a herald's coat. tait, a tuft. targe, a shield. tarn, a mountain lake. tartan, the full Highland dress, made of the chequered stuff so termed, tett, a plait or plaited knot. throstle, a thrush. tide, time. tine, lose ; tint, lost. tire, a head-dress. toom, empty, tottered, tattered, ragged. toun, a town, train, allure, entice. trental, a service of thirty masses for a deceased person. tressure, a border (heraldic). trews. Highland trousers. trine, threefold, an astrological term, trow, believe, trust. trowls, passes round. truncheon, a staff, the shaft of a spear, twa, two. tyke, a dog. tyne, lose. uncouth, strange, unknown. uneath, not easily, with difficulty, imsparred, unbarred. upsees, a Bacchanalian cry or inter- jection, borrowed from the Dutch. urchin, an elf. vail, avail. vail, lower, let fall. vair, a kind of fur, probably of the squirrel. vantage-coign, an advantageous po- sition. vaunt-brace, or wam-brace, armour for the forearm. vaward, van, front. vilde, vile. wad, would, wan, won. 614 GLOSSARY Warden-raid, a raid commanded by a Border Warden in person. ware, beware of. warlock, a wizard. warped, frozen. warre, worse. warrison, a note of assault. warstle, wrestle. wassail, spiced ale, a drinking-bout. wauk, wake. waur, worse. weapon-schaw, a military array of a county, a muster. weed, a garment. weird, fate, doom. whenas, when. whilere, while-ere, erewhile, a while ago. whiles, sometimes. whilom, whilome, formerly. whin, gorse, furze. whingers, knives, poniards, whinyard, a hunter's knife. wight, active, gallant, war-like, wildering, bewildering. wimple, a veil. woe-worth, woe be to. woned, dwelt. wraith, an apparition, a spectre, wreak, avenge. wud, would. wuddie, the gallows. yare, ready, yate, a gate. yaud, see far yaud. yerk, jerk. yode, went. CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A THE BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN MISCELLANEOUS POEMS BY SIR WALTER SCOTT BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1913 BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED CONTENTS The Bridal of Triermain; or, the Vale of St. John preface to the first edition 3 introduction 9 canto first i6 canto second 34 CANTO third 66 conclusion no Miscellaneous Poems the dying bard ii5 the norman horse-shoe ii7 the maid of toro ii9 the palmer 121 the maid of neidpath 1 23 wandering willie i25 health to lord melville 1 28 hunting song i32 song: *o say not, my love' 134 the resolve i35 epitaph designed for a monument in lich- field cathedral, at the burial-place of the family of miss seward 138 V CONTENTS PROLOGUE TO MISS BAILLIE'S PLAY OF 'THE FAMILY legend' 139 THE POACHER 141 THE BOLD dragoon; OR, THE PLAIN OF BA- DAJOS 148 ON THE MASSACRE OF GLENCOE 151 SONG FOR THE ANNIVERSARY MEETING OF THE PITT CLUB OF SCOTLAND 1 54 LINES ADDRESSED TO RANALD MACDONALD, ESQ., OF STAFFA 156 PHAROS LOQUITUR 157 LETTER IN VERSE ON THE VOYAGE WITH THE COMMISSIONERS OF NORTHERN LIGHTS TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BUCCLEUCH . . 158 POSTSCRIPTUM 162 SONGS AND VERSES FROM WAVERLEY I. 'and DID YE NOT HEAR OF A MIRTH befell' 165 II. 'late, when the autumn EVENING fell' 166 ni. 'the knight's to the mountain' . i68 IV. 'it 's UP GLENBARCHAN'S BRAES I gaed' 169 V. 'hie away, hie away' 169 VI. ST. swithin's chair 170 VII. 'young men will love thee more FAIR and more fast' 1 72 vi CONTENTS vm. FLORA mac-ivor's song 173 DC. TO AN OAK TREE I76 X. 'we are BOUND TO DRIVE THE BUL- LOCKS' 178 XI. 'but follow, FOLLOW ME' . . . . 178 FOR a' that an' a' that 179 FAREWELL TO MACKENZIE, HIGH CHIEF OF KIN- TAIL 181 IMITATION OF THE PRECEDING SONG , . . . 183 WAR-SONG OF LACHLAN, HIGH CHIEF OF MAC- LEAN 185 SAINT CLOUD 187 THE DANCE OF DEATH 189 ROMANCE OF DUNOIS I96 THE TROUBADOUR I98 *IT CHANCED THAT CUPID ON A SEASON' . . 200 SONG ON THE LIFTING OF THE BANNER OF THE HOUSE OF BUCCLEUCH AT A GREAT FOOT-BALL MATCH ON CARTER HAUGH 20I SONGS FROM GUY MANNERING I. 'canny MOMENT, LUCKY FIT*. . . . 203 II. 'twist ye, TWINE YE! EVEN SO' . . 204 in. 'wasted, weary, wherefore stay' . 205 IV. 'dark shall be light' 206 lullaby of an infant chief 207 the return to ulster 208 jock of hazeldean 210 vii CONTENTS pibroch of donald dhu 212 nora's vow 215 macgregor's gathering 217 verses sung at the dinner given to the grand-duke nicholas of russia and his suite, i9th december, 1816 219 verses from the antiquary I. 'he came, but valour so HAD FIRED HIS eye' 221 II. 'why sit'st thou by that ruined hall' 221 III. EPITAPH 222 IV. 'the herring loves THE MERRY MOON- LIGHT' 223 VERSES FROM OLD MORTALITY I. 'and what THOUGH WINTER WILL PINCH severe' ......... 226 n. VERSES FOUND, WITH A LOCK OF HAIR, IN bothwell's pocket-book .... 226 III. epitaph on BALFOUR OF BURLEY . .228 THE search after HAPPINESS 229 lines written for MISS SMITH 245 MR. KEMBLE's farewell ADDRESS ON TAKING LEAVE OF THE EDINBURGH STAGE . . . .247 THE SUN UPON THE WEIRDLAW HILL . . . . 25O SONG FROM ROB ROY, TO THE MEMORY OF EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE 252 viii CONTENTS THE MONKS OF BANGOR's MARCH 254 EPILOGUE TO 'the APPEAL' 256 mackrimmon's lament 258 DONALD Cairo's come again 260 MADGE wildfire's SONGS 263 THE BATTLE OF SEMPACH 267 THE NOBLE MORINGER 275 EPITAPH ON MRS. ERSKINE 289 SONGS FROM THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR I. 'look not thou on beauty's charm- ing' 290 II. 'the monk must arise when the matins ring' 290 in, 'when the last laird of ravens- wood to ravens wood shall ride ' . 291 songs from the legend of montrose i. ancient gaelic melody 292 ii. the orphan maid 293 verses from ivanhoe I. THE crusader's RETURN 296 II. THE BAREFOOTED FRIAR 298 III. ' NORMAN SAW ON ENGLISH OAK' . . 299 IV. WAR-SONG 300 V. Rebecca's hymn 302 VI. THE BLACK KNIGHT AND WAMBA . . .304 VII. ANOTHER CAROL BY THE SAME . . . 305 VIII. FUNERAL HYMN 306 ix CONTENTS VERSES FROM THE MONASTERY I. ANSWER TO INTRODUCTORY EPISTLE . 308 II. BORDER SONG 308 III. SONGS OF THE WHITE LADY OF AVENEL 309 IV. TO THE SUB-PRIOR 31I V. HALBERT's INCANTATION 313 VI. TO HALBERT 313 VII. TO THE SAME 318 Vni. TO THE SAME 322 IX. TO MARY AVENEL 323 X. TO EDWARD GLENDINNING . . . .323 XI. THE WHITE LADY'S FAREWELL . . .324 GOLDTHRED's SONG FROM KENILWORTH . . .326 VERSES FROM THE PIRATE I. THE SONG OF THE TEMPEST . . . .327 II. HALCRO'S SONG 33O in. SONG OF HAROLD HARFAGER . . • 33I IV. SONG OF THE MERMAIDS AND MERMEN 333 V. NORNA'S VERSES 335 VI. HALCRO AND NORNA 338 VII. THE fishermen's SONG 343 VIII. CLEVELAND'S SONGS 344 DC. HALCRO'S VERSES 345 X. NORNA'S INCANTATIONS 347 XI. THE SAME, AT THE MEETING WITH MINNA 349 xn. bryce snailsfoot's advertisement 353 X CONTENTS 'on ettrick forest's mountains dun' . .354 the maid of isla 356 farewell to the muse 358 Nigel's initiation at whitefriars . . . .360 'carle, now the king's come' 363 THE BANNATYNE CLUB 372 county guy 375 epilogue to the drama founded on 'saint ronan's well' 376 epilogue 380 verses from redgauntlet I. A CATCH OF COWLEY's ALTERED . . . 382 II. 'as lords their labourers' hire delay ' 383 LINES ADDRESSED TO MONSIEUR ALEXANDRE, THE CELEBRATED VENTRILOQUIST . . . .384 TO J. G. LOCKEIART, ESQ., ON THE COMPOSITION OF MAIDA'S EPITAPH 385 SONGS FROM THE BETROTHED I. 'soldier, wake!' 387 II. woman's faith 388 III. 'l ASKED OF MY HARP' 389 IV. 'widowed wife and wedded maid' .391 VERSES FROM THE TALISMAN I. 'dark AHRIMAN, whom IRAK STILL' .392 II. 'WTIAT BRAVE CHIEF SHALL HEAD THE forces' 394 m. THE BLOODY VEST 395 xi CONTENTS verses from woodstock i. *by pathless march, by greenwood tree' . ' 400 ii. glee for king charles 40o ni. *AN HOUR WITH THEE' 402 IV. 'son of a witch' 403 LINES TO SIR CUTHBERT SHARP 404 verses from CHRONICLES OF THE CANONGATE I. OLD SONG 405 II. THE LAY OF POOR LOUISE 405 III. DEATH CHANT 407 IV. SONG OF THE GLEE-MAIDEN . . . .408 THE DEATH OF KEELDAR 4 10 THE SECRET TRIBUNAL 414 THE FORAY 416 INSCRIPTION FOR THE MONUMENT OF THE REV. GEORGE SCOTT 418 SONGS FROM THE DOOM OF DEVORGOIL I. 'the SUN UPON THE LAKE' .... 419 II. 'we love the SHRILL TRUMPET' . . 42O III. 'admire not that I GAINED THE PRIZE' 42 1 rv. 'when the tempest' 421 v. bonny dundee 422 vi. '^vhen friends are met* 425 'hither we come' 427 the death of don pedro 428 lines on fortune 43° xii CONTENTS Notes 433 Glossary 445 Index of First Lines 455 Index of Titles 462 THE BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN OR THE VALE OF ST. JOHN A LOVER'S TALE PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION In the Edinburgh Annual Register for the year 1809, Three Fragments were inserted, written in imitation of Li\-ing Poets. It must have been apparent that by these prolusions nothing burlesque or disrespectful to the authors was intended, but that they were offered to the public as serious, though certainly very imperfect, imitations of that style of composition by which each of the writers is supposed to be distinguished. As these exercises attracted a greater degree of attention than the author antici- pated, he has been induced to complete one of them and present it as a separate publication. It is not in this place that an examination of the works of the master whom he has here adopted as his model, can, with pro- priety, be introduced; since his general acquiescence in the favourable suffrage of the public must necessarily be inferred from the attempt he has now made. He is induced, by the na- ture of his subject, to offer a few remarks on what has been called romantic poetry; the popularity of which has been revived in the present day, under the auspices, and by the unparalleled success, of one individual. The original purpose of poetry is either religious or historical, or, as must frequently happen, a mixture of both. To modern readers the poems of Homer have many of the features of pure romance; but in the estimation of his contemporaries, they prob- ably derived their chief value from their supposed historical au- thenticity. The same may be generally said of the poetry of all early ages. The marvels and miracles which the poet blends with his song do not exceed in number or extravagance the fig- ments of the historians of the same period of society ; and indeed, the difference betwixt poetry and prose, as the vehicles of his- torical truth, is always of late introduction. Poets, under various denominations of Bards, Scalds, Chroniclers, and so forth, are PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION the first historians of all nations. Their intention is to relate the events they have witnessed, or the traditions that have reached them; and they clothe the relation in rhyme, merely as the means of rendering it more solemn in the narrative, or more easily committed to memory. But as the poetical historian im- proves in the art of conveying information, the authenticity of his narrative unavoidably declines. He is tempted to dilate and dwell upon the events that are interesting to his imagination, and, conscious how indifferent his audience is to the naked truth of his poem, his history gradually becomes a romance. It is in this situation that those epics are found, which have been generally regarded the standards of poetry; and it has happened somewhat strangely that the moderns have pointed out as the characteristics and peculiar excellencies of narrative poetry, the very circumstances which the authors themselves adopted, only because their art involved the duties of the his- torian as well as the poet. It cannot be believed, for example, that Homer selected the siege of Troy as the most appropriate subject for poetry; his purpose was to write the early history of his country; the event he has chosen, though not very fruitful in varied incident, nor perfectly well adapted for poetry, was nevertheless combined with traditionary and genealogical anec- dotes extremely interesting to those who were to listen to him; and this he has adorned by the exertions of a genius which, if it has been equalled, has certainly been never surpassed. It was not till comparatively a late period that the general accuracy of his narrative, or his purpose in composing it, was brought into question. Ao^ei Trpwros [o 'Ava^ayopas^ (/ca^a cfyrjcn ^ajSoptvo? iv Tj-avToSaTTTJ 'Icrropttt) riyr 'Ofxiqpov TrOLrjcriv a.Tro^rjva