.NRLF » : -me ^s f:r ^ THE LADY OF THE LAKE Frontispiece (p. 40) THE LADY OF THE LAKE BY SIR WALTER SCOTT BARONET with an Introduction by ANDREW LANG and Illustrations by C. E. liROCK ? JAMES NISBET & CO., LIMITED 21 BERNERS STREET 1904 Ai .J CONTENTS Editor's Introduction, Author's Introduction, . Canto I. The Chase, II. The Island, III. The Gathering, IV. The Prophecy, . V. The Combat, . VI. The Guard-Room, Notes, PAGE ix 1 29 61 90 120 152 185 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS By C. E. brock The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide, . Frontispiece PAGE He sorrow'd o'er the expiring horse, In listening mood, she seem'd to stand,"] The guardian Naiad of the strand, J Tlie hounds behind their passage ply, ' 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing,' ' Wake, Allan-bane ! ' aloud she cried, ' Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme,' ' Grant me this maid to wife,' ' Chieftains, forego ! ' The Cross, thus form'd, he held on high, Press'd on her lips a fond adieu, 14 19 24 33 40 53 57 68 76 VUl THE LADY OF THE LAKE List of Illustrations, by C. E. Brock— continued The messenger of fear and fate, A wild and warlike group they stand, . . . With Alpine's Lord, The Hermit Monk held solemn wor J He placed the golden circlet on, The fierce avenger is behind, ' These are Clan -Alpine's warriors true,' And lock'd his arms his foeman round, And ever James was bending low, . * Back, on your lives, ye menial pack ! ' ' Hear ye, my mates,' Slow on the harp his hand he laid, . The window seeks with cautious tread. And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand, . PAGE 79 85 94 108 113 128 134 140 145 158 165 175 182 EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Scott's first con- siderable work, made him fam.ous, and Marmion seated him far above any contemporary poet in popular esteem. Byron was only known as a versifier who had turned and rent his critics in a satire ; Wordsworth, unregarded, had already written his best ; of Coleridge few had heard ; Shelley was as yet unknown ; Keats too was a schoolboy ; and if Scott could be said to have a rival, that rival was Campbell, or Crabbe. Pos- terity has reversed some of these judgments of contemporary readers : for the excellences of Wordsworth, when he chances on them, are higher in kind than those of Scott; and Cole- ridge, in his rare hours of inspiration, is, of all poets, the most wonderfully inspired. Without his still unpublished Christahel as a model, indeed, The Lay would never have taken the shape it bears. We may reckon Coleridge and Words- X THE LADY OF THE LAKE worth above Scott, but he did what they could not do — he gave the world poetry which the world could read and understand. His touches of the Harp of the North, he says, may be ' Harsh and faint, and soon to die away, Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway. The wizard note has not been touch'd in vain.' All hearts ' throbbed higher,' for Scott's simple aim was to 'stir the blood,' like Sir Phihp Sidney's favourite ballad, and his aim he did not miss. It was not his object to provoke reflection, as it was Wordsworth's, nor to en- chant by a mysterious fairy music, like Coleridge, but to make hearts beat at the revived spectacle of chivalrous energies, and of mountain beauty. Others, before Scott, had lifted u]) their eyes unto the hills, and seen that they were fair. Gray had done this, but he had not opened the sight of men to the 'mountain gloom and the mountain glory.' Captain Burt s^^oke for the English taste, about 1730, when he grumbled at the hideous brown hills, with their untidy out- lines and ' dirty purple,' particularly ugly ' when the heather is in bloom.' It was not an English- man who told Dr. Johnson that Scotland 'has EDITORS INTRODUCTION xi noble wild prospects,' thereby enabling the Doctor to place his remark about 'the road to England.' Scott enabled people to see what he saw, and this is a chief function of the poet. He added to the world's store of beauty, he made hearts throb, he told a good tale, and had every reason to be content with his success. Since Burns, no other poet had reached the world's ear : he reached a far wider world than Burns at that time commanded, and he influ- enced Germany and France. He certainly de- served the proud place which he yielded so good-humouredly to Byron's melodramatics. In The Lay Scott had glorified his own ancestral country, the Border. In Marinion he had told a tale of chivalry and of Flodden Field. He looked for a fresh theme, and found it in the ancient manners and in the scenery of the Highlands. The scenery was still only known to English sportsmen and scribbling travellers. The manners were merely regarded as waning survivals of that barbarism which, after 1745, English statesmen had been so anxious to 'improve.' A wave of Tory en- thusiasm for the Highlands did pass over parts xii THE LADY OF THE LAKE of England about 1747. The gentry, at Litch- field races, wore tartan; at Bath a Highland ballet of Prince Charles and Flora Macdonald was applauded in the playhouse. In 1754 a grieved member of Parliament told the House that he had been shocked by seeing a coloured print of a young kilted Highlander in the shop windows at Oxford. Johnson gave to the world a view, a very metropolitan view, of the Islands, where he had found modern conditions rushing in. Macpherson's Ossian, too, had interested all reading mankind in the Celt, but Macpherson's Celts were a misty kind of creatures — giants of the Brocken who had little but their country in common with the actual historic clans. Scott had a liking for Ossian derived from his early boyhood, but he thought that most of it, ' incalculably the greater part,' was pure Macpherson as it is. 'There were no real originals,' Scott wrote, at the same time as he wrote the first chapters of Waverley, that is, five years before he began The Lady of the Lake. In spite of Ossian, to the ordinary English- man the Highlanders were still a set of plaided EDITORS INTRODUCTION xiii ruffians, or beggarly peasants, more predatory or dirty than picturesque. In their clan legends, their tartans, and feuds, the Southron in general took no interest. Indeed, he still conceives Lowland Scots to be 'the language of Ossian.' But the Highlands had always been dear to Scott, and he was destined to make them fashionable. Though he had first visited the Macfarlanes' country as a writer's clerk en- gaged in an eviction, his remote strain of Campbell blood warmed to pipes, dirks, and the Fiery Cross. He himself knew Stewart of Invernahyle, who had sent the Fiery Cross through Appin in 1745. ' Yet live there still who can remember well, How when a mountain chief his bugle blew, Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell, And solitary heath, the signal knew ; And fast the faithful clan around him drew.' The poetic signal of ' the bloody cross ' meant, in fact, that the huts of the faithful clan would be burned, and their cattle driven away, if they did not turn out. By the time of Scott's friends, in 1745, they generally wished to do nothing of the sort : Lovat's and Cromarty's men were xiv THE LADY OF THE LAKE especially reluctant to stir. In Appin the Stewarts really were enthusiastic, and in Invernahyle, Scott, as a boy, luckily met one of the purest representatives of the Lost Cause in its stainless poetry. When he wrote The Lady of the Lake the last Royal Stuart had recently died : the Highlands had ceased to be the terror, and the clans had become the sword and buckler, of England. For celebrating the Celt, the hour and the man had come. As a boy of fourteen Scott had automatically drawn rein, and stopi^ed his pony, when the beauty of the Vale of Perth first broke on his view. He needed no one to open his eyes. Again, in 1793, he visited most of the countrj^ described in The Lady of the Lake and in JRoh Roy, the Macgregor country, the realm of the dispossessed Clan- Alpine. With that clan Scott had a singular sympjathy. Their excesses, from ancient days, had made the country too hot to hold them. Campbells, Grahams, Colquhouns were hounded on them by the Scots Govern- ment, which usually set a clan to catch a clan. The Macgregors lost the wide lands ruled by Roderick Dhu in the poem. Their very name EDITOR S INTRODUCTION XV was proscribed; 'The clan has a name that is nameless by day.' Many went to the Lowlands, and became, under Lowland patronymics, very honest citizens. Those who remained were outlaws and robbers. The great Macdonnell thieving company of Barisdale and Co. had a kind of branch establishment among Clan- Alpine, and cows stolen in Sutherland went by way of Rannoch to the Lennox, while cows of Campbells and Grahams travelled to Knoy- dart and Lochaber.^ The result of an outlaw thieving life on lands once their own produced those two brave but inveterate traitors, Rob Roy and his son James Mohr. James died within easy memory of Scott's own father ; and Scott, whose own ancestors had been as great cattle thieves as any Macdonnell or Macgregor of them all, became the minstrel of Clan- Alpine, now an association of most res]3ectable British subjects. But he preferred to regard them in a totally different light, though he makes Fitzjames ex- I)ress a Lowland sentiment as to the propriety 1 MS. 104, King's Collection, British Museum. L^' xvi THE LADY OF THE LAKE of plundering the peasantry. The days of reiving being by this time extinct, the handle of the picturesque was, no doubt, the proper handle whereby to take up the Macgregors. But nobody had thought of doing this before, and here lay the originality of Scott. Had he lived in Edinburgh sixty years earlier, he would probably have mounted the black, not the white cockade, and the Edinburgh Volun- teers would have had one serviceable recruit. But while ' all for law and order and that kind of thing' in the present, in the past he pre- ferred the reverse, and, in the country near Loch Katrine, collected the reiving legends as faithfully as he did later in his own Liddesdale. Unluckily he never learned Gaelic. Thus provided with materials, he set himself to his poem in 1809. He has told how a lady discouraged him : ' Do not rashly attempt to climb higher.' 'If I fail,' he said, *I will write IDrose for life: you shall see no change in my temper, nor will I eat a single meal the worse.' The first Canto of The Lady was read, at Ashestiel, to Scott of Knowesouth; and every one has heard of Knowesouth's agitation, when EDITOR S INTRODUCTION xvil 'the hounds must have been totally ruined' by swimming to Ellen's Isle after the run. This sportsman also detected Fitz-James in his dis- guise, A\ hich Scott therefore deepened. He him- ^— self made Fitz- James's ride from Loch Yennachar to Stirling, in the interests of historical accuracy, and found it feasible. The poem appeared, in May 1810, in a lordly quarto : Scott received, or should have received, 2000 guineas. But what with bills and Ballan- tynes, his guineas may have been more or less. Mr. JefPrey was kind enough to ' think more highly, on the whole, of this than of either of its author's former publications.' Not because it had greater beauties, but because ' it had fewer faults.' He liked the Highland subject, which Scott was to make more human, probable, , natural, and lifelike in Waverley, Rob Roy, and other novels. Lockhart, very justly, calls The Lay ' the most natural and original, Marinion the most power- ful and splendid, and The Lady of the Lake the most interesting, picturesque, romantic, and graceful of his poems.' It has not much antiquarianism, which the h l^ xviii THE LADY OF THE LAKE critics hated : there is httle of ' the supernatural,' except the Second Sight, and Brian's strange birth: and 'the supernatural' was a stumbling- block to criticism, even in The Ancient Mariner, to Charles Lamb. The metre was regular, not the wild mosstrooping stanzas, and the critics loved regularity as much as they hated Christahel. Scott defended octosyllabics, against the formal heroic verse, which, as he points out, is full of otiose adjectives. Ellis regretted the irregular cadences of The Lay, which suit that xDoem admirably, and are judiciously introduced by Scott into the Minstrel's description of the battle in The Lady of the Lake. But octo- syllabics were a change, and were well adapted to a rapid narrative. If we merely took The Lady of the Lake at the estimate of superior modern critics, who have read about Verlaine in the magazines, if we only rated it as 'a Waverley novel in verse,' it would still be a very good novel. Few of Scott's are so succinct, or so well constructed. The action only occupies six days. On the first we have the Chase, and Fitz-James's welcome on Ellen's Isle. In the second Malcolm and Roderick Dhu quarrel, and u- editor's introduction xix Malcolm leaves the Island. On the third the Fiery Cross is sped, and summons men from burial and bridal: the fourth day gives the Prophecy. Fitz-James returns to Clan-Alpine's realm and is sheltered by Roderick Dhu. Next day we have the scene of the maniac woman, and the combat between Roderick Dhu and Fitz-James, with the sports at Stirling, and the prowess of Douglas. The following sun brings tidings of the battle and the attack on Ellen's Isle, the death of Roderick, the eclair cissement, and the conclusion. Every judicious reader should have recognised that Scott, and Scott alone, was the author of the Waverley novels. They are built, in prose, on the same lines as The Lady of the Lake. There is the same love of Highland chivalryf- custom, and legend, the same liking for a generous king. Hero and heroine are the usual hero and heroine; a faint touch of coquetry and fickleness in Ellen is at once rebuked and mastered by her 'better self.' The hounds serve for a signature in novel and poem alike, as does the white horse of Wouvermans. The maniac woman, with her warning snatches of XX THE LADY OF THE LAKE old ballads, is Madge Wildfire with her warn- ing snatches of ancient song. The deep and ^ tender love of father and daughter is not better marked in Woodstock than in Douglas and Ellen. Humour, especially peasant humour, so pronounced a feature of the novels, the j)oem did not well admit of, but Frank Bothwell and Halliday, in Old Mortality, might liaA^e stepj)ed out of the Guard-room of Canto vi. The Scott of the novels, and of his own hidden life, is apparent in the lines on Fitz-James's dreams. ' Then, — from my couch may heavenly might Chase that worst phantom of the night !— Again return'd the scenes of youth, Of confident undoubting truth ; They come, in dim procession led, The cold, the faithless, and the dead.' He is thinking of the 'false true love' that broke his heart, though it was handsomely mended; he is always thinking of her. The whole story may be read between the lines, in a j)lace so unlikely as his Quarterly review of Miss Austen; and the Journal tells us how the name which he had cut in runic characters on the grass below the Castle of St. Andrews had editor's introduction xxi power, thirty years later, to move his heart. Thus almost all of the Scott of the novels, all, we may say, but the humour, is present in The Lady of the Lake. Critics may say that they wish he had told the story in prose, but the rapidity, and often the beauty and charm, of the verse can only be despised by a caprice of fashion. Prose could not render the spirit and magic of the opening : ' The stag at eve had drunk his fill,' nor give us the magnificent i)icture of the Trosachs. The wild hermit, Brian, and the wilder legend of his birth, are better painted and told in rhyme. The journey of the Fiery Cross is poetry of the utmost sjDeed and si)irit, and the scenes of interrupted bridal and burial are selected and drawn with a master's hand and with unfailing tact. The scene of the maniac captive could not be better than its replica in Madge Wildfire's adventure, but it only yields to that most extraordinary and Shakesi3earian effort of genius. The combat is one of Scott's best single fights ; the battle, as recited by the Minstrel, excels even among his xxii THE LADY OF THE LAKE battles. The songs, however, are by no means among the best of Sir Walter's lyrics; the exception is : ' The toils are pitch'd, and the stakes are set.' The Lady of the Lake was welcomed in the way of which everybody has heard. The world poured into the Macgregor country, and the price of coach-hire was raised. Jamieson met an old guide from the north side of Ben Lomond, who said : ' That damned Walter Scott that everybody makes such a work about, I wish I had him to ferry over Loch Lomond; I should be after sinking the boat, for ever since he wrote The Lady of the Lake, as they call it, everybody goes to see that filthy hole, Loch Katrine, then comes round by Luss, and I have had only two gentlemen to guide all this season. The devil confound his ladies and his lakes, say I.' Nobody else said so, and only an extreme of fastidious criticism is likely to bid the devil take one of the greatest romantic narratives in the literature of the world. ANDREW LANG. London, 1897. AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION After the success of Marmion, I felt inclined to exclaim with Ulysses in the Odyssey— OvTOs fx^v drj liedXos ddaros itcTeTeXearai Nui/ avre (tkotvov ciXKov. Odys. X' 1- o« ' One venturous game my hand has won to-day— Another, gallants, yet remains to play.' The ancient manners, the habits and customs of . the aboriginal race by whom the Highlands of Scot- land were inhabited, had always appeared to me peculiarly adapted to poetry. The change in their manners, too, had taken x^l^ce almost Avithin my own time, or at least I had learned many particulars concerning the ancient state of the Highlands from the old men of the last generation. I had always thought the old Scottish Gael highly adapted for poetical composition. The feuds and political dissen- sions, which, half a century earlier, would have ren- dered the richer and wealthier part of the kingdom indisposed to countenance a poem, the scene of which was laid in the Highlands, Avere now sunk in the generous compassion Avhich the English, more than any other nation, feel for the misfortunes of an honourable foe. The Poems of Ossian had, by their popularity, sufficiently slioAvn, that if Avritings on Highland subjects were qualified to interest the XXIV THE LADY OF THE LAKE reader, mere national prejudices were, in the present day, A'ery unlilcely to interfere with their success. I had also read a great deal, seen much, and heard more, of that romantic country, where I was in the habit of spending some time every autumn ; and the scenery of Loch Katrine was connected with the recollection of many a dear friend and merry expe- dition of former days. This poem, the action of which lay among scenes so beautiful, and so deeply imprinted on my recollection, was a labour of love ; and it Avas no less so to recall the manners and incidents introduced. The frequent custom of James iv., and particularly of James v., to walk through their kingdom in disguise, afforded me the hint of an incident, Avhich never fails to be inter- esting if managed with the slightest address or dexterity. I may noAV confess, however, that the employ- ment, though attended with great pleasure, was not without its doubts and anxieties. A lady, to Avhoni I was nearly related, and Avitli whom I lived, during her Avhole life, on the most brotherly terms of affec- tion, was residing Avitli me at the time Avhen the work Avas in progress, and used to ask me, Avhat I could possibly do to rise so early in the morning (that happening to be the most convenient time to me for composition). At last I told her the subject of my meditations ; and I can ncA^er forget the anxiety and affection expressed in her reply. ' Do not be so rash,' she said, ' my dearest cousin. You are already popular— more so, perhaps, than you yourself Avill belicA' e, or than exen I, or other partial friends, can fairly alloAV to your merit. You stand high— do not rashly attempt to climb higher, and incur the risk author's introduction XXV of a fall ; for, depend upon it, a favourite will not be permitted even to stumble Avith impunity.' I replied to this affectionate expostulation in the words of Montrose— ' He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch To gain or lose it all.' ' If I fail,' I said, for the dialogue is strong in my recollection, ' it is a sign that I ought never to have succeeded, and I will write prose for life : you shall see no change in my temper, nor will I eat a single meal the worse. But if I succeed, Up with the bonnie blue bonnet, The dirk, and the feather, and a' I ' AfterAvards I showed my affectionate and anxious critic the first canto of the poem, Avhich reconciled her to my imprudence. Nevertheless, although I answered thus confidently, with the obstinacy often said to be proper to those who bear my surname, I acknowledge that my confidence was considerably shaken by the warning of her excellent taste and unbiassed friendship. Nor Avas I much comforted by her retractation of the unfavourable judgment, Avhen I recollected hoAV likely a natural partiality Avas to effect that change of opinion. In such cases, affection rises like a light on the canvas, improves any favourable tints Avhich it formerly exhibited, and throws its defects into the shade. I remember that about the same time a friend started in to ' heeze up my hope,' like the ' sports- man Avith his cutty gun,' in the old song. He Avas XXVI THE LADY OF THE LAKE bred a farmer, but a man of powerful understanding, natural good taste, and warm jDoetical feeling, per- fectly competent to supply the wants of an imperfect or irregular education. He was a passionate admirer of field-sports, which we often i^ursued together. As this friend hapiiened to dine with me at Ashestiel one day, I took the opportunity of reading to him the first canto of The Lady of the Lake, in order to ascertain the efi'ect the poem was likely to produce upon a person who was but too favourable a representative of readers at large. It is, of course, to be supi)osed, that I determined rather to guide my opinion by what my friend might appear to feel, than by wdiat he might think fit to say. His reception of my recitation, or prelection, was rather singular. He placed his hand across his brow, and listened with great attention through the Avhole account of the stag-hunt, till the dogs threw them- ^ selves into the lake to folloAv their master, Avho embarks Avith Ellen Douglas. He then started up with a sudden exclamation, struck his hand on the table, and declared, in a voice of censure calculated for the occasion, that the dogs must have been totally ruined by being permitted to take the water after such a severe chase. I own I Avas much encouraged by the species of reverie Avhich had possessed so zealous a folloAAer of the sports of the ancient Nimrod, Avho had been completely surprised out of all doubts of the reality of the tale. Another of his remarks gaAe me less pleasure. He detected the identity of the King Avitli the Avandering knight, Fitz-James, Avhen he Avinds his bugle to summon his attendants. He was probably thinking of the lively, but someAvhat licentious, old ballad, in aa hich AUTHORS INTRODUCTION XXVU the denouement of a royal intrigue takes place as follows : ' He took a bugle frae his side, He blew both loud and shrill, And four-and-twenty belted knights Came skipping ower the hill ; Then he took out a little knife, Let a' his duddies fa', And he was the brawest gentleman That was amang them a'. And we '11 go no more a-roving,' etc. This discovery, as Mr. Pepys says of the rent in his camlet cloak, was but a trifle, yet it troubled me ; and I was at a good deal of pains to efface any marks by which I thought my secret could be traced before the conclusion, when I relied on it Avitli the same hope of producing effect, with Avliich the Irish post-boy is said to reserve a ' trot for the avenue.' I took uncommon pains to verify the accuracy of the local circumstances of this story. I recollect, in particular, that to ascertain whether I Avas telling a probable tale, I went into Perthshire, to see whether King James could actually have ridden from the banks of Loch Vennachar to Stirling Castle Avithin the time supposed in the Poem, and had the pleasure to satisfy myself that it Avas qiute practicable. After a considerable delay. The Lady of the Lake appeared in June 1810 ; and its success Avas certainly so extraordinary as to induce me for the moment to conclude that I had at last fixed a nail in the proA^erbially inconstant Avlieel of Fortune, Avliose stability in behalf of an individual Avho had so boldly courted her favours for three successive times xxviii THE LADY OF THE LAKE had not as yet been shaken. I had attained, perhaps, that degree of public reputation at which prudence, or certainly timidity, would have made a halt, and discontinued efforts by which I Avas far more likely to diminish my fame than to increase it. But, as the celebrated John Wilkes is said to have explained to his late Majesty, that he himself, amid his full tide of popularity, was never a Wilkite, so I can, with honest truth, exculpate myself from having been at any time a partisan of my own poetry, even when it was in the highest fashion with the million. It must not be supposed that I Avas either so ungrateful, or so superabundantly candid, as to despise or scorn the A^alue of those whose voice had elevated me so much higher than my OAvn opinion told me I deserved. I felt, on the contrary, the more grateful to the public, as receiving that from partiality to me, which I could ]iot have claimed from merit; and I endeavoured to deserve the par- tiality, by continuing such exertions as I was capable of for their amusement. It may be that I did not, in this continued course of scribbling, consult either the interest of the 13ublic or my own. But the former had effectual means of defending themselves, and could, by their coldness, sufficiently check any approach to intru- sion ; and for myself, I had now for several years dedicated my hours so much to literary labour, that I should have felt difficulty in employing myself otherwise ; and so, like Dogberry, I generously be- stoAved all my tediousness on the public, comforting myself with the reflection, that if posterity should think me undeserving of the favour with which I was regarded by my contemporaries, 'they could AUTHOR S INTRODUCTION xxix not but say I had the crown,' and had enjoyed for a time that popularity which is so much coveted. I conceived, however, that I held the distinguished situation I had obtained, however unworthily, rather like the champion of pugilism, on the condition of being always ready to show proofs of my skill, than in the manner of the champion of chivalry, Avho performs his duties only on rare and solemn occasions. I was in any case conscious that I could not long hold a situation which the caprice, rather than the judgment, of the public had bestowed upon me, and preferred being deprived of my pre- cedence by some more worthy rival, to sinking into contempt for my indolence, and losing my reputa- tion by what Scottish lawyers call the negative 'prescription. Accordingly, those who choose to look at the Introduction to Rokehy will be able to trace the steps by Avhicli I declined as a poet to figure as a novelist; as the ballad says, Queen Eleanor sunk at Charing Cross to rise again at Queenhithe. It only remains for me to say, that, during my short pre-eminence of popularity, I faithfully ob- served the rules of moderation which I had resolved to foUoAV before I began my course as a man of letters. If a man is determined to make a noise in the world, he is as sure to encounter abuse and ridicule, as he who gallops furiously through a village must reckon on being followed by the curs in full cry. Experienced persons know, that in stretching to flog the latter, the rider is very apt to catch a bad fall ; nor is an attempt to chastise a malignant critic attended with less danger to the author. On this principle, I let parody, burlesque, and squibs, find their own level ; and while the XXX THE LADY OF THE LAKE latter hissed most fiercely, I was cautious never to catch them up, as schoolboys do to throw them back against the naughty boy who fired them off, wisely remembering that they are, in such cases, apt to explode in the handling. Let me add, that my reign (since Byron has so called it) was marked by some instances of good-nature as well as patience. I never refused a literary person of merit such ser- vices in smoothing his way to the public as were in my power: and I had the advantage, rather an luicommon one with our irritable race, to enjoy general favour, without incurring permanent ill- will, so far as is known to me, among any of my contemporaries. W. S. Abbotsford, April 1830. TO THE MOST NOBLE JOHN JAMES MARQUIS OF ABERCORN ETC. ETC. ETC. THIS POEM IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR ARGUMENT The Scene of the following Poem is laid chiefly in the vicinity of Loch Katrine, in the Western Highlands of Perthshire. The time of Action includes Six Days, and the transactions of each Day occupy a Canto. THE LADY OF THE LAKE CANTO FIRST THE CHASE Harp of the North ! that mouldering long hast hung On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring, And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, Till envious ivy did around thee cling, Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep ? Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring. Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep. Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weei3 ? Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd, When lay of hopeless love, or glory won, Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud. /'^ ^ 'c^ f / .' TH 5S i; A L» ^jf O F THE LAKE Canto I At each according j)ause, was heard aloud The Chase Thine ardent symiDhony subKme and high ! Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bow'd ; For still the burden of thy minstrelsy Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye. O wake once more ! how rude soe'er the hand That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; O wake once more ! though scarce my skill command Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay : Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, And all unworthy of thy nobler strain, Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway. The wizard note has not been touch'd in vain. Then silent be no more! Enchantress, wake again ! I The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, The deej)-mouth'd bloodjioimd's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way, And faint, from farther distance borne, Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. THE CHASE Canto I II As Chief, who hears his warder call, The Chase 'To arms ! the foemen storm the wall,' The antler'd monarch of the waste Sprun gjrom liis heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took. The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; Like crested leader proud and high, Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky ; A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment siiuff'd the tainted gale, A moment listen d to the cry, That thicken'd as the chase drew nigh ; Then, as the headmost foes appear d. With one brave bound ^he copse he clear'd. And, stretching forward free and far^ Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. Ill Yell'd on the view the opening pack ; Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back ; To many a mingled sound at once The awaken'd mountain gave response. A hundred dogs bay'd deep and strong, Clatter'd a hundred steeds along. Their peal the merry horns rung out, A hundred voices join'd the shout ; With hark and whoop and wild halloo, No rest Benvoirlich's echoes kneAV. Far from the tumult fled the roe, Close in her covert cower'd the doe. 4 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto I The falcon, from her cairn on high, TheChaae Cast on the rout a wondering eye. Till far beyond her piercing ken The hurricane had swept the glen. Faint, and more faint, its failing din Return'd from cavern, cliff, and linn, And sileTice settled, wide and still. On the lone wood and mighty hill. IV Less loud the sounds of silvan war Disturb'd the heights of Uam-Var, And roused the cavern, where, 'tis told, A giant made his den of old ; For ere that steep ascent was won. High in his pathway hung the sun. And many a gallant, stay'd perforce, Was fain to breathe his faltering horse, And of the trackers of the deer, Scarce half the lessening pack was near : So shrewdly on the mountain side Had the bold burst their mettle tried. The noble stag was pausing now. Upon the mountain s southern brow. Where broad extended, far beneath, The varied realms of fair Menteith. With anxious eye he wander'd o'er Mountain and meadowy moss and moor THE CHASE 5 And ponder d refuse .from his toil, canto i By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. The Chase But nearer was the copsewood grey, That waved and wept on Loch Achray, And mingled with the pine-trees blue On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. Fresh vigour with the hope returned, With flying foot the heath he spurn'd, Held westward with unwearied race. And left behind the panting chase- VI 'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, As swei3t the hunt through Cambus-more ; What reins were tighten'd in despair. When rose Benledi's ridge in air ; Who flagg'd upon Bochastle's heath. Who shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith — For twice that day, from shore to shore. The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. Few were the stragglers, following far, That reach'd the lake of Vennachar ; And when the Brigg of Turk was won. The headmost horseman rode alone. VII Alone, but with unbated zeal. That horseman plied the scourge and steel ; For jaded now, and spent with toil, Emboss'd with foam, and dark with soil. 6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto I While every gasp with sobs he clre\v, 'he Chase The labouring stag strain d full in view. Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, Unniatch'd for courage^ breath, and sj^eed, Fast on his flying traces came. And all butjyon that desperate game ; For, scarce a spear" s length from his haunch, Vindictive toil'd the bloodhounds stanch ; j Nor nearer might the dogs attain, "^ iNor farther might the quarry strain.; Thus up the margin of the lake, Between the precipice and brake. O'er stock and rock their race they take. VIII The Hunter mark'd that mountain high, The lone lake's western boundary, x\nd deem'd the stag must turn to bay, Where that huge rampart barr'd the way; Already glorying in the prize, Measured his antlers with his eyes ; For the death-wound and death-halloo, Muster'd his breath, his whinyard drew ;- But thundering as he came prepared. With ready arm and weap)on bared. The wily quarry shunn'd the shock. And turn'd him from the opposing rock ; Then, dashing down a darksome glen. Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken, "^h f - jy-' >/ ' ' .4/ /fi :^ THE CHASE 7 In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook Canto i His solitary refuge took. The Chase There, while close couch'd, the thicket shed Cold dews and wild-flowers on his head, He heard the baffled dogs in vain Rave through the hollow j)ass amain. Chiding the rocks that yell'd again. IX Close on the hounds the hunter came, To cheer them on the vanish'd game ; But, stumbling in the rugged dell, The gallant horse exhausted fell. The impatient rider strove in vain To rouse him with the spur and rein, For the good steed, his labours o'er, Stretch'd his stiff limbs, to rise no more ; Then, touch'd with pity and remorse, He sorrow'd o'er the expiring horse. ' I little thought, when first thy rein I slack'd upon the banks of Seine, That Highland eagle e'er should feed On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, That costs thy life, my gallant grey ! ' Then through the dell his horn resounds. From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 8 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto I Back linip'd, with slow and crippled pace, 'he Chase "^^^^ sulky leaders of the chase ; Close to their master's side they press'd, With drooping tail and humbled crest ; But still the dingle's hollow throat Prolong'd the swelling bugle-note. The owlets started from their dream, The eagles answer'd with their scream. Round and around the sounds w ere cast, Till echo seem'd an answering blast ; And on the hunter hied his way. To join some conn*ades of the day ; Yet often paused, so strange the road. So wondrous were the scenes it show'd. XI The western waves of ebbing day Roird o'er the glen their level way ; Each iDurple peak, each flinty sijire. Was bathed in floods of living fire. But not a setting beam could glow Within the dark ravines below. Where twined the x)ath in shadow hid, Round many a rocky pyramid, Shooting abruptly from the dell Its thunder-splinter'd pinnacle ; Round many an insulated mass, The native bulwarks of the pass, Huge as the tower which builders vain Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. THE CHASE 9 The rocky suniiiiits, split and rent, canto i Form' d turret, dome, or battlement, fj^g qi^^^^ Or seem'd fantastically set With cuxDola or minaret, Wild crests as pagod ever deck'd, Or mosque of Eastern architect. Nor were these earth-born castles bare, Nor lack'd they many a banner fair ; For, from their shiver'd brows display d, Far o'er the unfathomable glade. All twinkling with the dewdrox)S sheen, The brier-rose fell in streamers green, And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. / XII Boon nature scatter'd, free and wild, Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. Here eglantine embalm'd the air. Hawthorn and hazel mingled there ; The primrose pale and violet flower. Found in each clifl^ a narrow bower ; Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side. Emblems of punishment and pride, Groux^'d their dark hues with every stain The weather-beaten crags retain. With boughs that quaked at every breath. Grey birch and asj)en wejDt beneath ; Aloft, the ash and warrior oak Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; lO THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto I And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung The Chase ^is shatter d trunk, and freqvient flung, Where seem'd the chfPs to meet on high, His bows athwart the narrow'd sky. Highest of all, where white x^eaks glanced. Where glist'ning streamers waved and danced, The wanderer's eye could barely view The summer heaven s delicious blue ; So wondi'ous wild, the whole might seem The scenery of a fairy dream. XIII Onward, amid the copse gan peep A narrow inlet, still and deep. Affording scarce such breadth of brim, As served the wdld-duck's brood to swim. Lost for a space, through thickets veering. But broader when again appearing, Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face Could on the dark-blue mirror trace ; And farther as the hunter stray'd, Still broader sweep its channels made. The shaggy mounds no longer stood, Emerging from entangled wood. But, wave-encircled, seem'd to float, Like castle girdled with its moat ; Yet broader floods extending still Divide them from their j)arent hill, Till each, retiring, claims to be An islet in an inland sea. THECHASE II XIV Canto I And now, to issue from the glen, The chase No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, Unless he clhnb, with footing nice, A far projecting precij)ice. The broom's tough roots his ladder made, The hazel saplings lent their aid ; And thus an airy point he won. Where, gleaming with the setting sun. One burnish'd sheet of living gold. Loch Katrine lay beneath him roll'd. In all her length far winding lay, With promontory, creek, and bay. And islands that, empurpled bright. Floated amid the livelier light. And mountains, that like giants stand. To sentinel enchanted land. High on the south, huge Benvenue Down on the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurl'd^ The fragments of an earlier world ; — ^ A wildering forest f eather'd o'er His ruin'd sides and summit hoar, While on the north, through middle air, Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. XV From the steep promontory gazed The stranger, raptured and amazed. And, ' What a scene were here,' he cried, ' For princely pomp, or churchman's pride ! 12 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto I On this bold brow, a lordly tower ; [•he Chase ^^^ *^^^^ ^^^^ Ysle, a lady's bower ; On yonder meadow, far away, The turrets of a cloister grey ; How blithely might the bugle-horn Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn I How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute Chime, when the groves were still and mute ! And, when the midnight moon should lave Her forehead in the silver wave. How solemn on the ear would come The holy matins' distant hum. While the deep peal's commanding tone Should wake in yonder islet lone, A sainted hermit from his cell, To drop a bead with every knell — And bugle, lute, and bell, and all. Should each bewilder d stranger call To friendly feast, and lighted hall. XVI ' Blithe were it then to wander here ! But now,— beshrew yon nimble deer, — Like that same hermit's, thin and spare. The copse must give my evening fare ; Some mossy bank my couch must be. Some rustling oak my canopy. Yet pass we that ; the war and chase Give little choice of resting-place ; — A summer night, in green-wood spent, Were but to-morrow's merriment : THE CHASE 13 But hosts may in these wilds abound, Canto i Such as are better miss'd than found ; ^he Chase To meet with Highland plunderers here Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — I am alone ;— my bugle-strain May call some straggler of the train ; Or, fall the worst that may betide, Ere now this falchion has been tried.' XVII But scarce again his horn he wound, When lo ! forth starting at the sound. From underneath an aged oak, That slanted from the islet rock, A damsel guider of its way, A little skifP shot to the bay. That round the promontory steep Led its deep line in graceful sweep. Eddying, in almost viewless wave. The weex)ing willov^ twig to lave, And kiss, with whispering sound and slow. The beach of pebbles bright as snow. The boat had touched the silver strand. Just as the hunter left his stand, And stood conceal'd amid the brake. To view this Lady of the Lake. The maiden jDaused, as if again She thought to catch the distant strain. With head up-raised, and look intent, And eye and ear attentive bent. 14 THE LADY OF THE LAKE And locks flung back, and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art. In listening mood, she seem'd to stand, The gviardian Naiad of the strand. XVIII And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form, or lovelier face ! What though the sun, with ardent frown. Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — The sportive toil, which, short and light, Had dyed her glowing hue so bright. Served too in hastier swell to show Short glimpses of a breast of snow : What though no rule of courtly grace To measured mood had train'd her pace, — A foot more light, a step more true. Ne'er from the heath-flower dash'd the dew ; E'en the slight harebell raised its head. Elastic from her airy tread : What though upon her speech there hung The accents of the mountain tongue, — Whose silver sounds, so soft, so dear. The list'ner held his breath to hear ! XIX A Chieftain's daughter seem'd the maid ; Her satin snood, her silken plaid. Her golden brooch such birth betray'd. And seldom was a snood amid THE CHASE 15 Sucli wild luxuriant ringlets hid, canto i Whose glossy black to shanie might bring The Chase The plumage of the raven's wing ; And seldom o'er a breast so fair, Mantled a plaid with modest care. And never brooch the folds combined Above a heart more good and kind. Her kindness and her worth to spy, You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; Not Katrine, in her mirror blue, Gives back the shaggy banks more true, Than every free-born glance conf ess'd The guileless movements of her breast ; Whether joy danced in her dark eye. Or ^voe or pity claim'd a sigh, Or filial love was glowing there. Or meek devotion pour'd a prayer. Or tale of injury called forth The indignant spirit of the North. One only passion unreveal'd. With maiden pride the maid conceal'd. Yet not less purely felt the flame ; — O need I tell that ]3assion's name ! • XX Impatient of the silent horn, Now on the gale her voice was borne : — ' Father ! ' she cried ; the rocks around Loved to prolong the gentle sound. A while she paused, no answer came, — ' Malcolm, was thine the blast ? ' the name l6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Less resolutely utter'd fell, The echoes could not catch the swell. ' A stranger I,' the huntsman said, Advancing from the hazel shade. The maid, alarm'd, with hasty oar, Push'd her light shalloj^ from the shore. And when a siDace was gain'd between. Closer she drew her bosom's screen ; (So forth the startled swan would swing. So turn to prune his ruffled wing.) Then safe, though flutter d and amazed, She paused, and on the stranger gazed. Not his the form, nor his the eye, That youthful maidens wont to fly. XXI On his bold visage middle age Had slightly press'd its signet sage, Yet had not quench'd the open truth And fiery vehemence of youth ; Forward and frolic glee was there. The will to do, the soul to dare, The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, Of hasty love, or headlong ire. His limbs were cast in manly mould, For hardy sports or contest bold ; And though in j)eacefvd garb array d. And weaponless, except his blade. His stately mien as well imi^lied A high-born heart, a martial j)ride, THECHASE 17 As if a baron's crest he wore, canto i And sheathed in armour trode the shore. Theciiase Slighting the petty need he show'd, He told of his benighted road ; His ready speech flow'd fair and free, In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; Yet seeni'd that tone, and gesture bland. Less used to sue than to command. XXII A while the maid the stranger eyed, And, reassured, at length replied, That Highland halls were open still To wilder'd wanderers of the hill. ' Nor think you unexpected come To yon lone isle, our desert home ; Before the heath had lost the dew, This morn, a couch was pull'd for you ; On yonder mountain's purple head Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled. And our broad nets have swept the mere, To furnish forth your evening cheer.'— ' Now, by the rood, my lovely maid, Your courtesy has err'd,' he said ; ' No right have I to claim, misplaced. The welcome of expected guest. A wanderer, here by fortune tost. My way, my friends, my courser lost, I ne'er before, believe me, fair, Have ever drawn your mountain air^ ^ l8 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Till on this lake's romantic strand, I found a fay in fairy land ! ' XXIII ' I well believe,' the maid rej)lied, As her light skiff api)roach'd the side, — * I well believe, that ne'er before Your foot has trod Loch Katrine s shore ; But yet, as far as yesternight. Old Allan-bane foretold your plight,— A grey-hair"d sire, whose eye intent Was on the vision'd future bent. He saw your steed, a dappled grey, Lie dead beneath the birchen w ay ; Painted exact your form and mien, Your hunting suit of Lincoln green, That tasseird horn so gaily gilt. That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, That cap with heron i^lumage trim. And yon two hounds so dark and grim. He bade that all should ready be, To grace a guest of fair degree ; But light I held his prophecy. And deem'd it was my father's horn, Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne.' — XXIV The stranger smiled : ' Since to your home A destined errant-knight I come. Announced by prophet sooth and old, Doom'd, doubtless, for achievement bold, S,i, -M\\ ar". fi,;,;ii|i«|i <3'3e- 'jourTS^ /aeijin"^ THECHASE 19 I '11 lightly front each high emprise, Canto i For one kind glance of those bright eyes. The chase Permit me, first, the task to guide Your fairy frigate o'er the tide.' The maid, with smile suppress'd and sly. The toil unwonted saw him try ; For seldom sure, if e'er before, His noble hand had grasp'd an oar : Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, And o'er the lake the shallop flew ; With heads erect, and whimpering cry, The hounds behind their passage ply. Nor frequent does the bright oar break The darkening mirror of the lake. Until the rocky isle they reach, And moor their shallop on the beach. XXV The stranger view'd the shore around ; 'Twas all so close with copsewood bound, Nor track nor pathway might declare That human foot frequented there. Until the mountain-maiden show^'d A clambering unsusjDected road. That winded through the tangled screen. And open'd on a narrow green, Where weeping birch and willow round With their long fibres swept the ground. Here, for retreat in dangerous hour. Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 20 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto I XXVI Tiie Chase ^^ ^^^^ ^ lodge of ample size, But strange of structure and device ; Of such materials, as around The workman's hand had readiest found. Lopp'd of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, And by the hatchet rudely squared, To give the walls their destined height. The sturdy oak and ash unite ; While moss and clay and leaves combined To fence each crevice from the wind. The lighter pine-trees, over-head, Their slender length for rafters spread. And wither'd heath and rushes dry Supplied a rvisset canopy. Due westward, fronting to the green, A rural j)ortico was seen. Aloft on native pillars borne, Of mountain fir with bark unshorn, Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine The ivy and Idsean vine. The clematis, the favour'd flower Which boasts the name of virgin-bower. And every hardy plant could bear Loch Katrine's keen and searching air. An instant in this porch she staid. And gaily to the stranger said, ' On heaven and on thy lady call, And enter the enchanted hall ! ' — THE CHASE XXVII ' My hope, my heaven, my trust must be My gentle guide, in following thee.' — He cross'd the threshold — and a clang Of angry steel that instant rang. To his bold brow his spirit rush'd, But soon for vain alarm he blush'd. When on the floor he saw display'd. Cause of the din, a naked blade Dropp'd from the sheath, that careless flung Upon a stag's huge antlers swung ; For all around, the walls to grace, Hung trophies of the fight or chase : A target there, a bugle here, A battle-axe, a hunting-spear, And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, With the tusk'd trophies of the boar. Here grins the wolf as when he died. And there the wild-cat's brindled hide The frontlet of the elk adorns. Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ; Pennons and flags defaced and stain'd. That blackening streaks of blood re- tain'd, And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, With otter's fur and seal's unite. In rude and uncouth tapestry all. To garnish forth the silvan hall. Canto I The Chase 22 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto I XXVIII [■he Chase The wondering stranger round him gazed, And next the fallen ^veapon raised : — Few were the arms whose sinewy strength Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. And as the brand he poised and sway'd, ' I never knew but one,' he said, ' Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield A blade like this in battle-field.' She sigh'd, then smiled and took the word ; ' You see the guardian champion's sword : As light it trembles in his hand, As in my grasp a hazel wand ; My sire's tall form might grace the part Of Ferragus, or Ascabart ; But in the absent giant's hold Are women now, and menials old. XXIX The mistress of the mansion came, Mature of age, a graceful dame ; Whose easy step and stately port Had well become a princely court. To whom, though more than kindred knew, Young Ellen gave a mother's due. Meet welcome to her guest she made, And every courteous rite was paid, That hosi3itality could claim, Thouofh all unask'd his birth and name. Such then the reverence to a guest. That fellest foe might join the feast. THE CHASE 23 And from his deadliest f oeman's door canto i Unquestion'd turn, the banquet o'er. At length his rank the stranger names, ' The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz- James ; Lord of a barren heritage. Which his brave sires, from age to age. By their good swords had held with toil ; His sire had fall'n in such turmoil. And he, God wot, was forced to stand Oft for his right with blade in hand. This morning with Lord Moray's train He chased a stalwart stag in vain, Outstripi^'d his comrades, miss'd the deer, Lost his good steed, and wander'd here.' XXX Fain would the knight in turn require The name and state of Ellen's sire. Well show'd the elder lady's mien, That courts and cities she had seen ; Ellen, though more her looks dis^Dlay'd The simple grace of silvan maid. In speech and gesture, form and face, Show'd she was come of gentle race ; 'Twere strange in ruder rank to find Such looks, such manners, and such mind. Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave. Dame Margaret heard with silence grave ; Or Ellen, innocently gay, Turn'd all enquiry light away : — 24 THE LADY OF THE LAKE ' Weird women we ! by dale and down We dwell, afar from tower and town. We stem the flood, we ride the blast, On Avandering knights our spells we cast ; While viewless minstrels touch the string, 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing.' She sung, and still a harp unseen Fill'd up the symphony between. XXXI SONG ' Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er. Sleep the sleep that knows not break- ing: Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall. Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er : Dream of fighting fields no more : Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking. ' No rude sound shall reach thine ear. Armour's clang, or war-steed champing, Trumj) nor pibroch summon here Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. ^')yr^e.s toe. ^«St^'^ THECHASE 25 Yet the lark's shrill fife may come canto i At the day-break from the fallow, The Chase And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here, Here 's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.' XXXII '- She paused — then, blushing, led the lay, To grace the stranger of the day. Her mellow notes a while prolong The cadence of the flowing song, Till to her lips in measured frame The minstrel verse spontaneous came. SONG CONTINUED ' Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done. While our slumbrous spells assail ye. Dream not, with the rising sun. Bugles here shall sound reveille. Sleep, the deer is in his den ; Sleep, thy hounds are by thee lying ; Sleep, nor dream in yonder glen. How thy gallant steed lay dying. Huntsman, rest ; thy chase is done. Think not of the rising sun. For at dawning to assail ye. Here no bugles sound reveille.' The Chase 26 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto I XXXIII The hall was clear d— the stranger's bed Was there of mountain heather spread, Where oft a hundred guests had lain, And dream'd their forest sports again. But vainly did the heath-flower shed Its moorland fragrance round his head ; Not Ellen's spell had lull'd to rest The fever of his troubled breast. In broken dreams the image rose Of varied joerils, pains, and woes ; His steed now flounders in the brake, Now sinks his barge upon the lake ; Now leader of a broken host. His standard falls, his honour 's lost. Then, — from my couch may heavenly might Chase that worst phantom of the night!— Again return'd the scenes of youth. Of confident undoubting truth ; Again his soul he interchanged With friends whose hearts were long estranged. They come, in dim procession led. The cold, the faithless, and the dead ; As warm each hand, each brow as gay, As if they parted yesterday. And doubt distracts him at the view, O were his senses false or true! Dream'd he of death, or broken vow, Or is it all a vision now! THE CHASE 27 XXXIV Canto I At length, with Ellen in a grove The Chase He seeni'd to walk, and speak of love ; She listen'd with a blush and sigh. His suit was warm, his hopes were high. He sought her yielded hand to clasi^. And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : The phantom's sex was changed and gone, Uj)on its head a helmet shone ; Slowly enlarged to giant size, With darken'd cheek and threatening eyes, The grisly visage, stern and hoar, To Ellen still a likeness bore. — He woke, and, ^Danting with affright, Recall'd the vision of the night. The hearth's decaying brands were red, x\nd deep and dusky lustre shed, Half showing, half concealing, all The uncouth trophies of the hall. Mid those the stranger fix'd his eye. Where that huge falchion hung on high, And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, Rusli'd, chasing countless thoughts along. Until, the giddy whirl to cure. He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. XXXV The wild-rose, eglantine, and broom. Wasted around their rich perfume : The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm. The aspens slept beneath the calm ; 28 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto I The Chase The silver light, with quivering glance, Play'd on the waters still expanse,^7 Wild Avere the heart whose i3assions' sway Could rage beneath the sober ray I He felt its calm, that warrior guest. While thus he communed with his breast :- ' Why is it, at each turn I trace Some memory of that exiled race ? Can I not mountain-maiden spy. But she must bear the Douglas eye ? Can I not A-iew a Highland brand, But it must match the Douglas hand ? Can I not frame a f ever'd dream, But still the Douglas is the theme ? — 1 11 dream no more — by manly mind Not even in sleei3 is will resign'd. My midnight orisons said o'er, I *11 turn to rest, and dream no more.' His midnight orisons he told, A prayer with every bead of gold, Consign'd to heaven his cares and woes, And sunk in undisturb'd repose ; Until the heath-cock shrilly crew. And morning dawn'd on Benvenue. CANTO SECOND THE ISLAND At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 'Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay, All Nature's children feel the matin spring Of life reviving, with reviving day ; And while yon little bark glides down the bay. Wafting the stranger on his way again, Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel grey, And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, Mix'd with the sounding harp, O white-hair'd Allan-bane ! II SONG ' Not faster yonder rowers' might Flings from their oars the s^Dray, Not faster yonder rippling bi'ight. That tracks the shallop's course in light, Melts in the lake away. Than men from memory erase The benefits of former days : The Island 30 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto II Then, stranger, go ! good speed the while, Nor think again of the lonely isle. ' High place to thee in royal court. High place in battle line, Good hawk and hound for silvan sport. Where beauty sees the brave resort, The honour d meed be thine ! True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, Thy lady constant, kind, and dear. And lost in love and friendship's smile Be memory of the lonely isle. Ill SONG CONTINUED ' Bvit if beneath yon southern sky A plaided stranger roam. Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh. And sunken cheek and heavy eye, Pine for his Highland home ; Then, warrior, then be thine to show The care that soothes a wanderer's woe ; Remember then thy hap ere while, A stranger in the lonely isle. ' Or if on life's uncertain main Mishap shall mar thy sail ; If faithful, wise, and brave in vain. Woe, want, and exile thovi sustain Beneath the fickle gale ; THE ISLAND 3^ Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, Canto ii On thankless courts, or friends estranged, The island But come where kindred worth shall smile, To greet thee in the lonely isle.' IV As died the sounds upon the tide. The shallop reach'd the mainland side. And ere his onward way he took. The stranger cast a lingering look. Where easily his eye might reach The harper on the islet beach, Reclined against a blighted tree. As wasted, grey, and worn as he. To minstrel meditation given, His reverend brow was raised to heaven, As from the rising sun to claim A sparkle of inspiring flame. His hand, reclined upon the wire, Seem'd watching the awakening fire ; So still he sate, as those who wait Till judgment speak the doom of fate ; So still, as if no breeze might dare To lift one lock of hoary hair ; So still, as life itself were fled. In the last sound his harp had sped. Ui)on a rock with lichens wild. Beside him Ellen sate and smiled. 32 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto II Smiled she to see the stately drake The Island Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, While her vex'd si)aniel, from the beach, Bay'd at the prize beyond his reach ? Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows, Why deepen'd on her cheek the rose ? — Forgive, forgive, Fidelity I Perchance the maiden smiled to see Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, And stop and turn to wave anew ; And, lovely ladies, ere your ire Condemn the heroine of my lyre, Show me the fair would scorn to spy, And xirize such conquest of her eye ! VI While yet he loiter d on the spot, It seem'd as Ellen mark'd him not ; But when he turn'd him to the glade, One courteous parting sign she made ; And after, oft the knight would say, That not when prize of festal day Was dealt him by the brightest fair. Who e'er wore jewel in her hair. So highly did his bosom swell. As at that simi^le mute farewell. Now with a trusty mountain-guide, And his dark stag-hounds by his side. He x^ai'ts — the maid, unconscious still, Watch'd him Avind slowly round the hill 3 3 3^3 3 4 e. thi"E. Tr>eT^ to" tui-fe) THE ISLAND 53 Nor will I here remain an hour, Canto ii To draw the lightning on thy bower ; tj^^ liand For well thou know'st, at this grey head The royal bolt were fiercest sped. For thee, who, at thy king's command. Canst aid him with a gallant band. Submission, homage, humbled pride. Shall turn the monarch's wrath aside. Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, Ellen and I will seek, apart. The refuge of some forest cell. There, like the hunted quarry, dwell. Till on the mountain and the moor. The stern pursuit be pass'd and o'er.' — XXX ' No, by mine honour,' Roderick said, ' So help me. Heaven, and my good blade ! No, never ! Blasted be yon Pine, My father's ancient crest and mine. If from its shade in danger part The lineage of the Bleeding Heart ! Hear my blunt speech : grant me this maid To wife, thy counsel to mine aid ; To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu, Will friends and allies flock enow ; Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, Will bind to us each Western Chief. When the loud pi^Des my bridal tell. The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, 54 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto II The guards shall start in Stirling's porch ; The Island And, when I light the nuiDtial torch, A thousand villages in flames, Shall scare the slunibers of King James ! — Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away, And, mother, cease these signs, I pray ; I meant not all my heart might say. — Small need of inroad, or of fight, When the sage Douglas may unite Each mountain clan in friendly band, To guard the passes of their land. Till the f oil'd king, from iDathless glen. Shall bootless turn him home agen.' XXXI There are who have, at midnight hour, In slumber scaled a dizzy tower, And, on the verge that beetled o'er The ocean tide's incessant roar, Dream'd calmly out their dangerous dream, Till waken'd by the morning beam ; When, dazzled by the eastern glow, Such startler cast his glance below, And saw unmeasured depth around. And heard unintermitted sound, And thought the battled fence so frail. It waved like cobweb in the gale ; — Amid his senses' giddy wheel. Did he not desperate impulse feel, Headlong to plunge himself below. And meet the worst his fears foreshow ? — THE ISLAND 55 Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound, canto ii As sudden ruin yawn'd around, ^j^^ ~ ^^^^ By crossing terrors wildly toss'd. Still for the Douglas fearing most, Could scarce the desperate thought withstand, To buy his safety with her hand. XXII Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy In Ellen's quivering lip and eye. And eager rose to speak— but ere His tongue could hurry forth his fear. Had Douglas mark'd the hectic strife. Where death seem'd combating with life ; For to her cheek, in feverish flood, One instant rush'd the throbbing blood, Then ebbing back, with sudden sway. Left its domain as wan as clay. ' Roderick, enough ! enough ! ' he cried, ' My daughter cannot be thy bride ; Not that the blush to wooer dear. Nor ]3aleness that of maiden fear. It may not be— forgive her. Chief, Nor hazard aught for our relief. Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er Will level a rebellious spear. 'Twas I that taught his youthful hand To rein a steed and wield a brand ; I see him yet, the princely boy ! Not Ellen more my pride and joy ; 56 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto II I love him still, despite my ^vrongs, The Island ^7 hasty TVT:'ath, and slanderous tongues. O seek the grace you w^ell may find, Without a cause to mine combined.' XXXIII Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode The waving of his tartans broad, And darken'd brow, where wounded iDricle With ire and disappointment vied, Seem'd, by the torch's gloomy light, Like the ill Demon of the night. Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway Upon the nighted pilgrim's way : But, unrequited Love I thy dart Plunged deepest its envenom'd smart, And Eoderick, with thine anguish stung, At length the hand of Douglas wrung, While eyes, that mock'd at tears before. With bitter drops were running o'er. The death-pangs of long-cherish'd hojDe Scarce in that ample breast had scope, But, struggling with his spirit proud, Convulsive heaved its chequer'd shroud, While every sob — so mute were all — Was heard distinctly through the hall. The son's despau% the mother's look, 111 might the gentle Ellen brook ; She rose, and to her side there came, To aid her parting steps, the Graeme. .\. THE ISLAND 57 XXXIV Canto II Then Roderick from the Douglas broke— ^j^^ j^j^^^j As flashes flame through sable smoke, Kindlmg its wreaths, long, dark, and low, To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, So deep the anguish of despair Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. With stalwart grasp his hand he laid On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid : ' Back, beardless boy ! ' he sternly said, ' Back, minion ! hold'st thou thus at naught The lesson I so lately taught ? This roof, the Douglas, and that maid, Thank thou for punishment delay'd.' Eager as greyhound on his game, Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. ' Perish my name, if aught afford Its Chieftain safety save his sword ! ' Thus as they strove, their desperate hand Griped to the dagger or the brand, And death had been — but Douglas rose. And thrust between the struggling foes His giant strength : — ' Chieftains, forego ! I hold the first who strikes, my foe. — Madmen, forbear your frantic jar ! What ! is the Douglas fall'n so far, His daughter's hand is doom'd the spoil Of such dishonourable broil ! ' Sullen and slowly, they unclasp. As struck with shame, their desperate grasp, 58 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto II And each upon his rival glared, The Island With foot advanced, and blade half bared. XXXV Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung. And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, As falter'd through terrific dream. Then Roderick j)lunged in sheath his sword, And veil'd his wrath in scornful word. ' Rest safe till morning ; pity 'twere Such cheek should feel the midnight air ! Then may est thou to James Stuart tell, Roderick will keep the lake and fell. Nor lackey, with his f reeborn clan. The pageant pomp of earthly man. More would he of Clan-Alpine know, Thou canst our strength and passes show. — Malise, what ho ! ' — his henchman came ; ' Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme.' Young Malcolm answer'd, calm and bold, ' Fear nothing for thy favourite hold ; The spot an angel deign'd to grace, Is bless'd, though robbers haunt the jDlace. Thy churlish courtesy for those Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. As safe to me the mountain way At midnight as in blaze of day, Though with his boldest at his back, Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. — THE ISLAND 59 Brave Douglas,— lovely Ellen,— nay, canto 11 Nought here of parting will I say. ^^^ j^^^^^ Earth does not hold a lonesome glen, So secret, but we meet agen. — Chieftain ! we too shall find an hour,'— He said, and left the silvan bower. XXXVI Old Allan followed to the strand, (Such was the Douglas's command,) And anxious told, how, on the morn. The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, The Fiery Cross should circle o'er Dale, glen, and valley, down, and moor. Much were the peril to the Grgeme, From those who to the signal came ; Far up the lake 'twere safest land, Himself would row him to the strand. He gave his counsel to the wind, While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind. Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roU'd, His ample plaid in tighten'd fold, And stripp'd his limbs to such array. As best might suit the watery way, — XXXVII Then spoke abrupt : ' Farewell to thee, Pattern of old fidelity ! ' The Minstrel's hand he kindly press'd, — ' O ! could I point a place of rest ! 6o THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto II My sovereign holds in ward my land, The Island ^^J ^^^^^^ leads my vassal band ; To tame his foes, his friends to aid. Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme, Who loves the Chieftain of his name. Not long shall honour'd Douglas dwell, Like hunted stag, in mountain cell ; Nor, ere yon pride-swoU'n robber dare, — I may not give the rest to air ! Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him nought, Not the poor service of a boat, To Tvaft me to yon mountain-side.' Then plunged he in the flashing tide ; Bold o'er the flood his head he bore, And stoutly steer'd him from the shore ; And Allan strained his anxious eye. Far 'mid the lake his form to spy. Darkening across each puny wave, To which the moon her silver gave. Fast as the cormorant could skim, The swimmer plied each active limb ; Then landing in the moonlight dell. Loud shouted of his weal to tell. The minstrel heard the far halloo. And joyful from the shore withdrew. CANTO THIRD THE GATHERING I Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore, Who danced our infancy upon their knee, And told our marvelling boyhood legends store. Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or sea, How are they blotted from the things that be ! How few, all weak and wither'd of their force. Wait on the verge of dark eternity. Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse. To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless course. Yet live there still who can remember well. How when a mountain chief his bugle blew. Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell, And solitary heath, the signal knew ; And fast the faithful clan around him drew, What time the warning note was keenly wound. What time aloft their kindred banner flew, While clamorous w^ar-pipes yell'd the gathering sound. And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round. 61 62 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto III The Gathering II The summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Loch Katrine bhie ; Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr d the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled but dimiiled not for joy; The mountain-shadows on her breast Were neither broken nor at rest ; In bright uncertainty they lie. Like future joys to Fancy's eye. The Avater-lily to the light Her chalice rear'd of silver bright ; The doe awoke, and to the lawn, Begemm'd with dewdrops, led her fawn ; The grey mist left the mountain side, The torrent show'd its glistening iDride ; Invisible in flecked sky, "xlie lark sent dowai her revelry ; The blackbird and the speckled thrush Good-morrow gave from brake and bush ; In answer coo'd the cushat dove Her notes of peace, and rest, and love. Ill No thought of peace, no thought of rest, Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. With sheathed broadsword in his hand. Abrupt he paced the islet strand, THE GATHERING 63 And eyed the rising sun, and laid Canto ill His hand on his impatient blade. ^^ Beneath a rock, his vassals' care Gathering Was j)ronipt the ritual to prepare, With deep and deathf ul meaning fraught ; For such i^ntiquity had taught Was preface meet, ere yet abroad The Cross of Fire should take its road. The shrinking band stood oft aghast At the impatient glance he cast ; — Such glance the mountain eagle threw, As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, She spread her dark sails on the wind. And, high in middle heaven reclined, With her broad shadow on the lake, Silenced the warblers of the brake. IV A heap of wither d boughs was piled. Of juniper and rowan wild, Mingled with shivers from the oak. Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. Brian, the Hermit, by it stood. Barefooted, in his frock and hood. His grisled beard and matted hair Obscured a visage of despair ; His naked arms and legs, seam'd o'er. The scars of frantic penance bore. That monk, of savage form and face. The impending danger of his race Canto III The Gathering 64 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Had drawn from deepest solitude, Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. Not his the mien of Christian priest, But Druid's, from the grave released, Whose harden'd heart and eye might brook On human sacrifice to look ; And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore Mix'd in the charms he mutterd o'er. The hallow'd creed gave only worse And deadlier emphasis of curse ; No x)easant sought that Hermit's prayer. His cave the pilgrim shunn'd with care. The eager huntsman knew his bound, And in mid chase call'd off his hound ; Or if, in lonely glen or strath. The desert-dw eller met his path, He i^ray'd, and sign'd the cross between. While terror took devotion's mien. Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. His mother watch'd a midnight fold. Built deej) within a dreary glen, Where scatter'd lay the bones of men, In some forgotten battle slain, And bleach'd by drifting wind and rain. It might have tamed a warrior's heart. To view such mockery of his art ! The knot-grass f etter'd there the hand. Which once could burst an iron band ; THE GATHERING 65 Beneath the broad and ample bone, canto ill That buckler'd heart to fear unknown, ^^ A feeble and a timorous guest. Gathering The field-fare framed her lowly nest ; There the slow blind-worm left his slime On the fleet limbs that mock'd at time : And there, too, lay the leader's skull. Still wreath'd with chaplet, flush'd and full, For heath-bell, with her purple bloom. Supplied the bonnet and the plume. All night, in this sad glen, the maid Sate, shrouded in her mantle's shade : — She said, no shepherd sought her side, No hunter's hand her snood untied. Yet ne'er again to braid her hair The virgin snood did Alice wear ; Gone was her maiden glee and sport, Her maiden girdle all too short, Nor sought she, from that fatal night. Or holy church or blessed rite, But lock'd her secret in her breast. And died in travail, unconf ess'd. VI Alone, among his young compeers, Was Brian from his infant years ; A moody and heart-broken boy. Estranged from sympathy and joy. Bearing each taunt which careless tongue On his mysterious lineage flung. 66 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto III The Gathering Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, To wood and stream his hap to wail, Till, frantic, he as truth received What of his birth the crowd believed. And sought, in mist and meteor fire. To meet and kno^v his Phantom Sire ! In vain, to soothe his wayward fate. The cloister oped her pitying gate ; In vain, the learning of the age Unclasp'd the sable-letter'd page ; Even in its treasures he could find Food for the fever of his mind. Eager he read whatever tells Of magic, cabala, and spells. And every dark pursuit allied To curiovis and presumptuous XDride ; Till with fired brain and nerves o'erstrung, And heart with mystic horrors wrung. Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, And hid him from the haunts of men. VII The desert gave him visions wild. Such as might suit the Spectre's child. Where with black clifPs the torrents toil. He watch'd the wheeling eddies boil. Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes Beheld the river Demon rise ; The mountain mist took form and limb. Of noontide hag, or goblin grim ; THE GATHERING 67 The midnight wind came wild and dread, canto iii Swell'd with the voices of the dead ; ^^ Far on the future battle-heath Gathering His eye beheld the ranks of death : Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurl'd. Shaped forth a disembodied world. One lingering sympathy of mind Still bound him to the mortal kind ; The only parent he could claim Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. Late had he heard, in prophet's dream, The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream ; Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast. Of charging steeds, careering fast Along Benharrow's shingly side. Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride ; The thunderbolt had split the i)ine, — All augur'd ill to Alpine's line. He girt his loins, and came to show The signals of impending woe, And now stood x3romj)t to bless or ban. As bade the chieftain of his clan. VIII 'Twas all prepared ;— and from the rock, A goat, the patriarch of the flock, Before the kindling pile was laid. And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. Patient the sickening victim, eyed The life-blood ebb in crimson tide. 68 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto III The Gathering Down his clogg'd beard and shaggy Ihnb, Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, A slender crosslet f orm'd with care, A cubit's length in measure due ; The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave Their shadoAVs o'er Clan- Alpine's grave, And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. The Cross, thus form'd, he held on high. With wasted hand, and haggard eye. And strange and mingled feelings woke. While his anathema he spoke. IX ' Woe to the clansman, who shall view This symbol of sepulchral yew. Forgetful that its branches grew Where weep the heavens their holiest dew On Alpine's dwelling low ! Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, He ne'er shall mingle with their dust. But, from his sires and kindred thrust. Each clansman's execration just Shall doom him wrath and woe.' He paused ;— tlie word the vassals took, With forward step and fiery look. On high their naked brands they shook ; Their clattering targets wildly strook ; And first in murmur low. Cy- <^--y t^Zs ■fen>.eS •^^ THE GATHERING 69 Then, like the billow in his course, Canto iii That far to seaward finds his source, The And flings to shore his muster'd force. Gathering Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse, ' Woe to the traitor, woe ! ' Ben-an's grey scalp the accents knew, The joyous wolf from covert drew, The exulting eagle scream'd afar, — They knew the voice of Alpine's war. X The shout was hush'd on lake and fell, The monk resumed his mutter'd spell : Dismal and low its accents came. The while he scathed the Cross with flame. And the few words that reach'd the air, Although the holiest name was there, Had more of blasphemy than prayer. But when he shook above the crowd Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : — ' Woe to the wretch, who fails to rear At this dread sign the ready spear ! For, as the flames this symbol sear. His home, the refuge of his fear, A kindred fate shall know : Far o'er its roof the volumed flame Clan- Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, While maids and matrons on his name Shall call down wretchedness and shame And infamy and woe.' Canto III The Gathering 70 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Then rose the cry of females, shrill As goss-hawk's whistle on the hill, Denouncing misery and ill. Mingled with childhood's babbling trill Of curses stammer d slow ; Answering, with imprecation dread, ' Sunk be his home in embers red ! And cursed be the meanest shed That e'er shall hide the houseless head We doom to want and woe ! ' A sharp and shrieking echo gave, Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave ! And the grey pass where birches wave. On Beala-nam-bo. XI Then deeper paused the priest anew, And hard his labouring breath he drew, While with set teeth and clenched hand. And eyes that glow'd like fiery brand, He meditated curse more dread, And deadlier, on the clansman's head, Who, summon'd to his Chieftain's aid. The signal saw and disobey'd. The crosslet's points of sparkling wood, He quench'd among the bubbling blood, And, as again the sign he rear'd, HolloAv and hoarse his voice was heard : ' Wlien flits this Cross from man to man, Vich- Alpine's summons to his clan, THE GATHERING 71 Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! Canto iii Palsied the foot that shuns to speed ! The May ravens tear the careless eyes, Gathering Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, So may his heart's-blood drench his hearth ! As dies in hissing gore the spark. Quench thou his light, Destruction dark ! And be the grace to him denied. Bought by this sign to all beside ! ' He ceased ; no echo gave agen The murmur of the deep Amen. XII Then Roderick, with impatient look. From Brian's hand the symbol took : ' Speed, Malise, speed ! ' he said, and gave The crosslet to his henchman brave. ' The muster-place be Lanrick mead — Instant the time — speed, Malise, speed ! ' Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, A barge across Loch Katrine flew ; High stood the henchman on the prow ; So rapidly the barge-men row. The bubbles, where they launch'd the boat. Were all unbroken and afloat. Dancing in foam and ripple still. When it had near'd the mainland hill ; And from the silver beach's side Still was the prow three fathom wide, Canto III The Gathering 72 THE LADY OF THE LAKE When lightly bounded to the land The messenger of blood and brand. XIII Speed, Malise, speed ! the dun deer's hide On fleeter foot was never tied. Speed, Malise, speed ! such cause of haste Thine active sinews never braced. Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, Burst down like torrent from its crest ; With short and springing footstep jyass The trembling bog and false morass ; Across the brook like roebuck bound. And thread the brake like questing hound ; The crag is high, the scaur is deep, Yet shrink not from the desperate leaj) : Parch'd are thy burning lijDs and brow. Yet by the fountain pause not now ; Herald of battle, fate, and fear, Stretch onward in thy fleet career ! The wounded hind thou track'st not now, Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough. Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace. With rivals in the mountain race ; But danger, death, and warrior deed, Are in thy course— speed, Malise, speed! XIV Fast as the fatal symbol flies, In arms the huts and hamlets rise THE GATHERING From winding glen, from upland brown, They j)our d each hardy tenant down. Nor slack'd the messenger his pace ; He show'd the sign, he named the place, And, pressing forward like the wind, Left clamour and surprise behind. The fisherman forsook the strand, The swarthy smith took dirk and brand ; With changed cheer, the mower blithe Left in the half-cut swathe the scythe ; The herds without a keeper stray'd, The plough w^as in mid-furrow staid, The falc'ner toss'd his hawk away. The hunter left the stag at bay ; Promj)t at the signal of alarms. Each son of Alpine rush'd to arms ; So swept the tumult and affray Along the margin of Achray. Alas, thou lovely lake ! that e'er Thy banks should echo sounds of fear ! The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep So stilly on thy bosom deep, The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud. Seems for the scene too gaily loud. 73 Canto III The Gathering XV Speed, Malise, speed ! the lake is past, Duncraggan's huts apfjear at last. And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, Half hidden in the copse so green ; Canto IIT The Gathering: 74 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Tliere niayst thou rest, thy labour done, Their Lord shall speed the signal on. — As stoops the hawk upon his prey, The henchman shot him down the way. — What wof ul accents load the gale ? The funeral yell, the female wail ! A gallant hunter s sport is o'er, A valiant warrior fights no more. Who, in the battle or the chase, At Roderick's side shall fill his place ! — Within the hall, where torches' ray Supplies the excluded beams of day, Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, And o'er him streams his widow's tear. His stripling son stands mournful by. His youngest weeps, but knows not why The village maids and matrons round The dismal coronach resound. XVI CORONACH He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain. When our need was the sorest. The font, reappearing. From the rain-dro^js shall borrow. But to us comes no cheering. To Duncan no morrow ! THE GATHERING The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flushing, When blighting was nearest. Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in cumber, Red hand in the foray. How sound is thy slumber ! Like the dew on the mountain. Like the foam on the river. Like the bubble on the fountain. Thou art gone, and for ever ! 75 Canto III The Gathering XVII See Stumah, who, the bier beside, His master s corpse with wonder eyed, Poor Stumah ! whom his least huUoo Could send like lightning o'er the dew. Bristles his crest, and points his ears, As if some stranger step he hears. 'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread. Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead. But headlong haste, or deadly fear. Urge the precipitate career. All stand aghast :— unheeding all, The henchman bursts into the hall ; Canto III The Gathering 76 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Before the dead man's bier he stood ; Held forth the Cross besmeard with blood ; ' The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, si)eed ! ' XVIII Angus, the heir of Duncan's line. Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. In haste the stripling to his side His father's dirk and broadsword tied ; But when he saw his mother's eye Watch him in speechless agony. Back to her open'd arms he flew, Press'd on her lips a fond adieu — ' Alas ! ' she sobb'd,^' and yet, be gone. And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son I ' One look he cast upon the bier, Dash'd from his eye the gathering tear, Breathed deep to clear his labouring breast, And toss'd aloft his bonnet crest. Then, like the high-bred colt, when, freed, First he essays his fire and speed. He vanish'd, and o'er moor and moss Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. Suspended was the widow's tear. While yet his footsteps she could hear ; And when she mark'd the henchman's eye, Wet with unwonted sympathy, * Kinsman,' she said, ' his race is run. That should have sped thine errand on ; X,rchf,eb on ]^, THE GATHERING 77 The oak has fall'ii, — the sapHng bough canto iii Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. ~ Yet trust I well, his duty done, Gathering The orphan's God will guard my son. — And you, in many a danger true. At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, To arms, and guard that orphan's head ! Let babes and women wail the dead.' Then weapon-clang, and martial call, Eesounded through the funeral hall. While from the walls the attenjlant band Snatch'd sword and targe, with hurried hand ; And short and flitting energy Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, As if the sounds to warrior dear Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. But faded soon that borrow'd force ; Grief claim'd his right, and tears their course. XIX Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. O'er dale and hill the summons flew. Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew ; The tear that gather'd in his eye He left the mountain-breeze to dry ; Until, where Teith's young waters roll, Betwixt him and a wooded knoll, That graced the sable strath with green, The chapel of Saint Bride was seen. 78 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto III Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge, Tj^g But Angus paused not on the edge ; Gathering Though the dark waves danced dizzily. Though reel'd his s^aniDathetic eye, He dash'd amid the torrent's roar : His right hand high the crosslet bore, His left the pole-axe grasp'd, to guide And «tay his footing in the tide. He stumbled twice — the foam splash'd high. With hoarser swell the stream raced by ; And had he fall'n, — for ever there. Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir ! But still, as if in parting life, Firmer he grasp'd the Cross of strife, Until the opposing bank he gain'd, And up the chapel pathway strain'd. XX A blithesome rout, that morning tide. Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. Her troth Tombea's Mary gave To Norman, heir of Armandave, And, issuing from the Gothic arch, The bridal now resumed their march. In rude, but glad procession, came Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame ; And plaided yovith, with jest and jeer, Which snooded maiden would not hear And children, that, unwitting why. Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ; THE GATHERING 79 And minstrels, that in measures vied canto iii Before the young and bonny bride, ^^ Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose Gathering The tear and blush of morning rose. With virgin step, and bashful hand, She held the 'kerchief's snowy band ; The gallant bridegroom, by her side, Beheld his prize with victor's pride, And the glad mother in her ear Was closely whispering word of cheer. XXI Who meets them at the churchyard gate ? The messenger of fear and fate ! Haste in his hurried accent lies, And grief is swimming in his eyes. All dripping from the recent flood. Panting and travel-soil'd he stood, The fatal sign of fire and sword Held forth, and spoke the appointed word : ' The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed ! ' And must he change so soon the hand. Just link'd to his by holy band, For the fell Cross of blood and brand ? And must the day, so blithe that rose. And promised rapture in the close, Before its setting hour, divide The bridegroom from the plighted bride ? O fatal doom !— it must ! it must ! Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust. Canto III The Gathering 80 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Her summons dread, brook no delay ; Stretch to the race — away ! away ! XXII Yet slow he laid his plaid aside, And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride. Until he saw the starting tear Si3eak woe he might not stop to cheer ; Then, trusting not a second look, In haste he sped him up the brook, Nor backward glanced, till on the heath Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. — What in the racer's bosom stirr'd ? The sickening pang of hope def err'd, And memory, with a torturing train Of all his morning visions vain. Mingled with love's impatience, came The manly thirst for martial fame ; The stormy joy of mountaineers, Ere yet they rush upon the spears ; And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning. And hope, from well-fought field returil- iiig, With war's red honours on his crest. To clasp his Mary to his breast. Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae. Like fire from flint he glanced away, While high resolve, and feeling strong. Burst into voluntary song. THE GATHERING XXIII SONG The heath this night must be my bed, The bracken curtain for my head, My hiUaby the warder's tread, Far, far, from love and thee, Mary ; To-morrow eve, more stilly laid. My couch may be my bloody plaid. My vesper song, thy wail, sw eet maid ! It will not waken me, Mary ! I may not, dare not, fancy now, The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, I dare not think upon thy vow. And all it promised me, Mary. No fond regret must Norman know ; When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe. His heart must be like bended bow, His foot like arrow free, Mary. A time will come with feeling fraught, For, if I fall'in battle fought. Thy hapless lover's dying thought Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. And if return'd from conquer'd foes. How blithely will the evening close, How sweet the linnet sing repose. To my young bride and me, Mary. Canto III The Gathering XXIV Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, Balquidder, si)eeds the midnight blaze, 82 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto III The Gathering Rushing, in conflagration strong, Thy deep ravines and dells along, Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow. And reddening the dark lakes below ; Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. The signal roused to martial coil The sullen margin of Loch Voil, Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source, Alarm'd, Balvaig, thy swampy course ; Thence southward turn'd its rapid road Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, Till rose in arms each man might claim A portion in Clan- Alpine's name, From the grey sire, whose trembling hand Could hardly buckle on his brand. To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow Were yet scarce terror to the crow. Each valley, each sequester d glen. Muster d its little horde of men, That met as torrents from the height In Highland dales their streams unite. Still gathering, as they pour along, A voice more loud, a tide more strong. Till at the rendezvous they stood By hundreds, prompt for blows and blood ; Each train'd to arms since life began, Owning no tie but to his clan, No oath, but by his chieftain s hand. No law, but Roderick Dhu's command. THE GATHERING 83 XXV That summer morn had Roderick Dhu Survey'd the skirts of Benvenue, And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath, To view the frontiers of Menteith. All backward came with news of truce ; Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce, In Rednock courts no horsemen wait, No banner waved on Cardross gate, On Duchray's towers no beacon shone. Nor scared the herons from Loch Con ; All seem'd at peace. — Now, wot ye why The Chieftain, with such anxious eye. Ere to the muster he repair. This western frontier scann'd with care ?- In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, A fair, though cruel, pledge Avas left : For Douglas, to his i^romise true. That morning from the isle withdrew, And in a deep sequester'd dell Had sought a low and lonely cell. By many a bard, in Celtic tongue, Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung ; A softer name the Saxons gave. And call'd the grot the Goblin-cave. Canto III The Gathering XXVI It was a wild and strange retreat, As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. The dell, upon the mountain's crest, Yawn'd like a gash on warrior's breast ; 84 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto III The Gathering Its trench had staid full many a rock, Hurld by primeval earthquake shock From Ben venue's grey summit wild, And here, in random ruin piled, They frown'd incumbent o'er the spot, And f orm'd the rugged silvan grot. The oak and birch, with mingled shade, At noontide there a twilight made, Unless when short and sudden shone Some straggling beam on cliff or stone. With such a glimpse as prophet's eye Gains on thy depth. Futurity. No murmur wak'd the solemn still. Save tinkling of a fountain rill ; But when the wind cliafed with the lake, A sullen sound would upward break, With dashing Jiollow voice, that spoke The incessant war of wave and rock. Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway, Seem'd nodding o'er the cavern grey. From such a den the wolf had sprung, In such the wild-cat leaves her young ; Yet Douglas and his daughter fair Sought for a space their safety there. Grey SuxDerstition's whisper dread Debarr'd the spot to vulgar tread ; For there, she said, did fays resort. And satyrs hold their silvan court. By moonlight tread their mystic maze, And blast the rash beholder's gaze. THE GATHERING 85 XXVII NoTV eve, TV^itli western shadows long, Floated on Katrine bright and strong. When Roderick, with a chosen few, Repass'd the heights of Benvenue. Above the Goblin-cave they go, Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo The prompt retainers speed before, To launch the shallop from the shore. For cross Loch Katrine lies his way To view the passes of Achray, And place his clansmen in array. Yet lags the chief in inusing mind, Unwonted sight, his men behind. A single page, to bear his sword. Alone attended on his lord ; The rest their way through thickets break, And soon await him l^y the lake. It was a fair and gallant sight. To view them from the neighbouring height, By the low-levell'd sunbeam's light ! For strength and stature, from the clan Each warrior was a chosen man. As even afar might well be seen. By their proud stej) and martial mien. Their feathers dance, their tartans float. Their targets gleam, as by the boat A wild and warlike group they stand, That well became such mountain-strand. Canto III The Gathering 86 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto III The Gathering XXVIIl Their Chief, with step reluctant, still Was lingering on the craggy hill, Hard by where turn'd apart the road To Douglas's obscure abode. It was but with that dawning morn, That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn, To drown his love in war's wild roar, Nor think of Ellen Douglas more ; But he who stems a stream with sand, And fetters flame \\dth flaxen band. Has yet a harder task to jDrove — By firm resolve to conquer love ! Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, Still hovering near his treasure lost ; For though his haughty heart deny A parting meeting to his eye. Still fondly strains his anxious ear, The accents of her voice to hear, And inly did he curse the breeze That waked to sound the rustling trees. But hark ! what mingles in the strain ? It is the harp of Allan-bane, That wakes its measure slow and high, Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. What melting voice attends the strings ? 'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings. THE GATHERING 87 XXIX c^^ "^ The HYMN TO THE VIRGIN Gathering Ave Maria ! maiden mild ! Listen to a maiden's prayer ! Thou canst hear though from the wild, Thou canst save amid despair. Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, Though banish'd, outcast, and reviled — Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ; Mother, hear a suppliant child ! Ave Maria ! Ave Maria ! undefiled ! The flinty couch we now must share Shall seem with down of eider piled. If thy protection hover there. The murky cavern's heavy air Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled ; Then, Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer, Mother, list a suppliant child ! Ave Maria ! Ave Mama! stainless styled ! Foul demons of the earth and air. From this their wonted haunt exiled. Shall flee before thy presence fair. We bow us to our lot of care. Beneath thy guidance reconciled ; Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer. And for a father hear a child ! Ave Maria! 88 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto III XXX The Died on the harp the closing hj^mn — Gathering Unmoved in attitude and limb, As listening still, Clan- Alpine's lord Stood leaning on his heavy sword. Until the page, with humble sign. Twice pointed to the sun's decline. Then while his plaid he round him cast, ' It is the last time— 'tis the last,' He mutter'd thrice, — ' the last time e'er That angel-voice shall Roderick hear ! ' It was a goading thought — his stride Hied hastier down the mountain-side : Sullen he flung him in the boat, And instant 'cross the lake it shot. They landed in that silver}^ bay. And eastward held their hasty way. Till, with the latest beams of light, The band arrived on Lanrick height, Where muster'd, in the vale below. Clan- Alpine's men in martial show. XXXI A various scene the clansmen made, Some sate, some stood, some slowly stray'd But most, with mantles folded round. Were couch'd to rest upon the ground. Scarce to be known by curious eye. From the deep heather where they lie. So well was match'd the tartan screen With heath-bell dark and brackens green ; THE GATHERING 89 Unless where, here and there, a blade, Canto iii Or lance's point, a glimmer made. The Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. Gathering But when, advancing through the gloom. They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume, Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide. Shook the steej) mountain's steady side. Thrice it arose, and lake and fell Three times return'd the martial yell ; It died uj)on Bochastle's x^lain, And Silence claim'd her evening reign. CANTO FOURTH THE PROPHECY * The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears. The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears. O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave. Emblem of hope and love through future years!' Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. II Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. All while he stripp'd the wild-rose spray, His axe and bow beside him lay. For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood, A wakeful sentinel he stood. Hark !— on the rock a footstep rung, And instant to his arms he sprung. ' Stand, or thou diest !— What, Mahse?— soon Art thou return'd from Braes of Doune. THE PROPHECY 91 By thy keen step and glance I know, canto iv Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe.' — The (For while the Fiery Cross hied on, Prophecy On distant scout had Malise gone.) ' Where sleeps the Chief?' the henchman said. ' Apart, in yonder misty glade ; To his lone couch I '11 be your guide.' — Then call'd a slumberer by his side, And stirr'd him with his slacken'd bow — ' Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho ! We seek the Chieftain ; on the track. Keep eagle watch till I come back.' Ill Together up the pass they sped : ' What of the f oeman ? ' Norman said. — ' Varying reports from near and far ; This certain, — that a band of war Has for two days been ready boune, At prompt command, to march from Doune ; King James, the while, with princely powers, Holds revelry in Stirling towers. Soon will this dark and gathering cloud Speak to our glens in thunder loud. Inured to bide such bitter bout, The warrior's plaid may bear it out ; But, Norman, how wilt thou provide A shelter for thy bonny bride ? ' — ' What ! know ye not that Roderick's care To the lone isle hath caused repair 92 Canto rv The Prophecy THE LADY OF THE LAKE Each maid and matron of the clan, And every child and aged man Unfit for arms ; and given his charge, Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, Upon these lakes shall float at large, But all beside the islet moor. That such dear pledge may rest secure ? '- IV ' 'Tis well advised— the Chieftain's plan Bespeaks the father of his clan. But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu Apart from all his f ollow ers true ? ' — ' It is, because last evening-tide Brian an augury hath tried. Of that dread kind which must not be Unless in dread extremity, The Taghairm call'd ; by which, afar. Our sires foresaw the events of war. Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew. MALISE ' Ah ! well the gallant brute I knew ! The choicest of the prey we had. When swept our merry-men Gallangad. His hide was snow, his horns were dark, His red eye giow'd like fiery spark ; So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet, Sore did he cumber our retreat, THE PROPHECY 93 And kept our stoutest kernes in awe, Canto iv Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. ~ But steep and flinty was the road, Prophecy And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad. And when we came to Dennan's Row, A child might scatheless stroke his brow.' - NORMAN ' That bull was slain : his reeking hide They stretch'd the cataract beside. Whose waters their wild tumult toss Adown the black and craggy boss Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. Couch'd on a shelve beneath its brink, Close where the thundering torrents sink. Rocking beneath their headlong sway. And drizzled by the ceaseless spray. Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream. The wizard waits prophetic dream. Nor distant rests the Chief ;— but hush ! See, gliding slow through mist and bush, The hermit gains yon rock, and stands To gaze upon our slumbering bands. Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost. That hovers o'er a slaughter'd host ? Or raven on the blasted oak, That, watching while the deer is broke, His morsel claims with sullen croak ? ' 94 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto IV The Prophecy MALISE — ' Peace ! peace ! to other than to me, Thy words were evil augury ; But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade Clan-Al]3ine's omen and her aid, Not aught that, glean'd from heaven or hell, Yon fiend-begotten monk can tell. The Chieftain joins him, see — and now. Together they descend the brow.' VI And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord The Hermit Monk held solemn word: ' Roderick I it is a fearful strife. For man endow'd with mortal life, Whose shroud of sentient clay can still Feel feverish pang and fainting chill. Whose eye can stare in stony trance. Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance, — 'Tis hard for such to view, unfurl'd. The curtain of the future world. Yet, witness every quaking limb, My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim, My soul with harrowing anguish torn. This for my Chieftain have I borne ! — The shapes that sought my fearful couch, An human tongue may ne'er avouch ; No mortal man, — save he, who, bred Between the living and the dead. Is gifted beyond nature's law, — Had e'er survived to say he saw. J 3 15 3 , ' '. <^K\e^^j3ermi+'^]^3QpnlcT^el5 Solemn tuor^ THE PROPHECY 95 At length the fateful answer came, Canto iv In characters of living flame ! The Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, Prophecy But borne and branded on my soul ;— Which spills the foremost foeman's life. That party conquers in the strife.'— VII ' Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care ! Good is thine augury, and fair. Clan- Alpine ne'er in battle stood. But first our broadswords tasted blood. A surer victim still I know, Self-offer'd to the auspicious blow : A spy has sought my land this morn,— No eve shall witness his return ! My followers guard each pass's mouth, To east, to westward, and to south ; Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide. Has charge to lead his steps aside. Till, in deep path or dingle brown, He light on those shall bring him down. — But see, who comes his news to show ! Malise ! what tidings of the foe ? ' VIII ' At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive Two Barons proud their banners wave. I saw the Moray's silver star. And mark'd the sable pale of Mar.' — 96 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto IV The Prophecy ' By Alpine's soul, high tidings those ! I love to hear of worthy foes. When move they on ? ' — ' To-morrow's noon Will see them here for battle boune.' — ' Then shall it see a meeting stern ! — But, for the iDlace — say, coulclst thou learn Nought of the friendly clans of Earn ? Strengthen'd hy them, we well might bide The battle on Benledi's side. Thou couldst not ? — Well ! Clan- Alpine's men Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen ; Within Loch Katrine's gorge we '11 fight. All in our maids' and matrons' sight. Each for his hearth and household fire, Father for child, and son for sire, — Lover for maid beloved !— but wliy — Is it the breeze affects mine eye ? Or dost thou come, ill-omen'd tear ! A messenger of doubt or fear ? No ! sooner may the Saxon lance Unfix Benledi from his stance, Than doubt or terror can pierce through The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu ! 'Tis stubborn as his trusty targe. — Each to his post !— all know their charge.' The pibroch sounds, the bands advance. The broadsw^ords gleam, the banners dance. Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. — I turn me from the martial roar, And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. THE PROPHECY 97 IX Where is the Douglas ? — he is gone ; And Ellen sits on the grey stone Fast by the cave, and makes her moan ; While vainly Allan's words of cheer Are pour'd on her unheeding ear. — ' He will return — Dear lady, trust ! — With joy return ;— he will— he must. Well was it time to seek, afar. Some refuge from impending war. When e'en Clan- Alpine's rugged swarm Are cow'd by the approaching storm. I saw their boats with many a light, Floating the live-long yesternight, Shifting like flashes darted forth By the red streamers of the north ; I mark'd at morn how close they ride. Thick moor'd by the lone islet's side. Like wild-ducks couching in the fen. When stoops the hawk upon the glen. Since this rude race dare not abide The peril on the mainland side, Shall not thy noble father's care Some safe retreat for thee prepare ? ' — Canto IV The Prophecy X ELLEN ' No, Allan, no ! Pretext so kind My wakeful terrors could not blind. When in such tender tone, yet grave, Douglas a parting blessing gave, 98 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto IV The Prophecy The tear that ghsten d in his eye Drown'd not his purpose fix'd on high. My soul, though feminine and weak, Can image his ; e'en as the lake, Itself disturb'd by slightest stroke. Reflects the invulnerable rock. He hears report of battle rife. He deems himself the cause of strife. I ssiW him redden, when the theme Turn'd, Allan, on thine idle dream. Of Malcolm Graeme, in fetters bound. Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. Think'st thou he trow'd thine omen aught ? Oh no ! 'twas apprehensive thought For the kind youth,— for Roderick too — (Let me be just) that friend so true ; In danger both, and in our cause ! Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. Why else that solemn warning given, ' If not on earth, we meet in heaven ! ' Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane, If eve return him not again. Am I to hie, and make me known ? Alas ! he goes to Scotland's throne. Buys his friend's safety with his own ; — He goes to do — what I had done, Had Douglas' daughter been his son ! '— XI ' Nay, lovely Ellen !— dearest, nay ! If aught should his return delay. THE PROPHECY 99 He only named yon holy fane Canto iv As fitting place to meet again. ,p~^ Be sure he 's safe ; and for the Graeme, — Prophecy Heaven's blessing on his gallant name ! — My vision'd sight may yet prove true, Nor bode of ill to him or you. When did my gifted dream beguile ? Think of the stranger at the isle, And think upon the harpings slow, That presaged this approaching woe ! Sooth was my prophecy of fear ; Believe it when it augurs cheer. Would we had left this dismal spot ! Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot. Of such a wondrous tale I know — Dear lady, change that look of woe. My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.' — ELLEN ' Well, be it as thou wilt ; I hear, But cannot stop the bursting tear.' The Minstrel tried his simple art. But distant far was Ellen's heart. XII BALLAD Alice Brand Merry it is in the good green^vood, When the mavis and merle are singing, When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, And the hunter's horn is ringing. Canto IV The Prophecy THE LADY OF THE LAKE ■ O Alice Brand, my native land Is lost for love of you ; And we must hold by wood and wold, As outlaws wont to do. ' O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright. And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, That on the night of our luckless flight. Thy brother bold 1 slew. ' Now must I teach to hew the beech The hand that held the glaive, For leaves to spread our lowly bed. And stakes to fence our cave. ' And for vest of pall, thy fingers small. That wont on harp to stray, A cloak must shear from the slaughter'd deer To keep the cold away.' — ' O Richard ! if my brother died, 'Twas but a fatal chance ; For darkling was the battle tried. And fortune sped the lance. ' If pall and vair no more I wear, Nor thou the crimson sheen, As warm, we '11 say, is the russet grey. As gay the forest-green. ' And, Richard, if our lot be hard, And lost thy native land, Still Alice has her own Richard, And he his Alice Brand.' THE PROPHECY lOI ^jjj Canto IV The BALLAD CONTINUED Prophecy 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood. So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side. Lord Richard's axe is ringing. Up spoke the moody Elfin King, Who wonn'd within the hill, — Like wind in the porch of a ruin d church, His voice was ghostly shrill. ' Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, Our moonlight circle's screen ? Or who comes here to chase the deer. Beloved of our Elfin Queen ? Or who may dare on wold to wear The fairies' fatal green ? ' Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie, For thou wert christen'd man ; For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, For mutter'd word or ban. ' Lay on him the curse of the wither'd heart. The curse of the sleepless eye ; Till he wish and pray that his life would part, Nor yet find leave to die.' THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto IV The Prophecy XIV BALLAD CONTINUED 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, Though the birds have still'd their singing The evening blaze doth Ahce raise. And Richard his fagots bringing. Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, Before Lord Richard stands. And, as he cross'd and bless'd himself, ' I fear not sign,' quoth the grisly elf, ' That is made with bloody hands.' But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, That woman void of fear, — ' And if there 's blood u^Don his hand, 'Tis but the blood of deer.' — ' Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood I It cleaves unto his hand. The stain of thine own kindly blood. The blood of Ethert Brand.' Then forward stepp'd she, Alice Brand, And made the holy sign, — ' And if there 's blood on Richard's hand, A spotless hand is mine. ' And I conjure thee. Demon elf, By Him whom Demons fear, To show us whence thou art thyself, And what thine errand here ? ' THE PROPHECY 103 XV Canto IV BALLAD CONTINUED The Prophecy ' Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, When fairy birds are singing, When the court doth ride by the monarch's side, With bit and bridle ringing : ' And gaily shines the Fairy-land — But all is glistening show. Like the idle gleam that December's beam Can dart on ice and snow. ' And fading, like that varied gleam, Is our inconstant shape, Who now like knight and lady seem. And now like dwarf and ape. ' It was between the night and day. When the Fairy King has power, That I sunk down in a sinful fray. And, 'twixt life and death, was snatch'd away To the joyless Elfin bower. ' But wist I of a woman bold. Who thrice my brow durst sign, I might regain my mortal mold, As fair a form as thine.' She cross'd him once — she cross'd him twice — That lady was so brave ; The fouler grew his goblin hue. The darker grew the cave. I04 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto IV She cross'd him thrice, that lady bold ^g He rose beneath her hand Prophecy The fairest knight on Scottish mold, Her brother, Ether t Brand I Merry it is in good greenwood. When the mavis and merle are singing, But merrier were they in Dunfermline grey When all the bells were ringing. XVI Just as the minstrel sounds were staid, A stranger climb'd the steepy glade : His martial step, his stately mien. His hunting suit of Lincoln green, His eager glance, remembrance claims — 'Tis Snowdoun's Knight,'tis James Fitz- James. Ellen beheld as in a dream. Then, starting, scarce suppress'd a scream : ' O stranger ! in such hour of fear. What evil hap has brought thee here ? ' — ' An evil hap how can it be. That bids me look again on thee ? By promise bound, my former guide Met me betimes this morning tide. And marshall'd, over bank and bourne. The happy path of my return.' — ' The happy path I — what ! said he nought Of war, of battle to be fought. THE PROPHECY Of guarded pass ? '— ' No, by my faith ! Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.' ' O haste thee, Allan, to the kern, — Yonder his tartans I discern ; Learn thou his purpose, and conjure That he will guide the stranger sure ! What prompted thee, unhappy man ? The meanest serf in Roderick's clan Had not been bribed by love or fear, Unknown to him to guide thee here.'— 05 Canto IV The Prophecy XVII ' Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, Since it is worthy care from thee ; Yet life I hold but idle breath, When love or honour's weigh'd with death, Then let me profit by my chance, And speak my purpose bold at once. I come to bear thee from a wild, Where ne'er before such blossom smiled ; By this soft hand to lead thee far From frantic scenes of feud and war. Near Bochastle my horses wait ; They bear us soon to Stirling gate. I '11 place thee in a lovely bower, I '11 guard thee like a tender flower ' ' O ! hush, Sir Knight ! 'twere female art, To say I do not read thy heart ; Too much, before, my selfish ear Was idly soothed my praise to hear. Canto IV The Prophecy 1 06 THE LADY OF THE LAKE That fatal bait hath lured thee back, In deathf ul hour, o'er dangerous track ; And how, O how, can I atone The wreck my vanity brought on ! — One way remains— I '11 tell him all— Yes ! struggling bosom, forth it shall I Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, Buy thine own pardon with thy shame ! But first — my father is a man Outlaw'd and exiled, under ban ; The price of blood is on his head, With me 'twere infamy to wed. — Still wouldst thou speak?— then hear the truth ! Fitz-James, there is a noble youth,— If yet he is ! — exposed for me And mine to dread extremity — Thou hast the secret of my heart ; Forgive, be generous, and depart ! ' XVIII Fitz-James knew every wily train A lady's fickle heart to gain. But here he knew and felt them vain. There shot no glance from Ellen's eye. To give her steadfast speech the lie ; In maiden confidence she stood, Though mantled in her cheek the blood, And told her love with such a sigh Of deep and hopeless agony, THEPROPHECY 107 As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom, canto iv And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. ^^ Hope vanish'd from Fitz-James's eye, Prophecy But not with hope fled sympathy. He proffer'd to attend her side, As brother would a sister guide. — ' O ! little know'st thou Roderick's heart ! Safer for both we go apart. O haste thee, and from Allan learn, If thou may st trust yon wily kern.' With hand upon his forehead laid, The conflict of his mind to shade, A parting step or two he made ; Then, as some thought had cross'dhis brain, He paused, and turn'd, and came again. XIX ' Hear, lady, yet a parting word ! It chanced in fight that my poor sword Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. This ring the grateful Monarch gave. And bade, when I had boon to crave, To bring it back, and boldly claim The recompense that I would name. Ellen, I am no courtly lord. But one who lives by lance and sword, Whose castle is his helm and shield. His lordship the embattled field. What from a prince can I demand. Who neither reck of state nor land ? Canto IV The Prophecy io8 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ; Each guard and usher knows the sign. Seek thou the king without delay ; This signet shall secure thy way ; And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, As ransom of his pledge to me.' He placed the golden circlet on, Paused— kiss'd her hand— and then was gone. The aged Minstrel stood aghast, So hastily Fitz-James shot past. He join'd his guide, and wending down The ridges of the mountain brown, Across the stream they took their way. That joins Loch Katrine to Achray. XX All in the Trosachs' glen was still. Noontide was sleeping on the hill : Sudden his guide whoop'd loud and high— ' Murdoch ! was that a signal cry ? ' He stammer'd forth,—' I shout to scare Yon raven from his dainty fare.' He look'd— he knew the raven's prey, His own brave steed :— ' Ah I gallant grey ! For thee — for me, perchance — 'twere well We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell.— Murdoch, move first— but silently ; Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die ! ' Jealous and sullen on they fared. Each silent, each upon his guard. 5>J J5 5> I ' 111'-.-"' ' / • 5 <> > ' ^ •, ■, ' 1 ' , ' ' • .^ THE PROPHECY 109 XXI Now wound the path its dizzy ledge Around a precipice's edge, When lo ! a wasted female form, Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, In tatter'd weeds and wild array, Stood on a cliff beside the way, And glancing round her restless eye. Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, Seem'd nought to mark, yet all to spy. Her brow was wreath'd with gaudy broom ; With gesture wild she waved a plume Of feathers, which the eagles fling To crag and cliff from dusky wing ; Such spoils her desperate step had sought. Where scarce was footing for the goat. The tartan plaid she first descried. And shriek'd till all the rocks replied ; As loud she laugh'd when near they drew, For then the Lowland garb she knew ; And then her hands she wildly wrung. And then she wept, and then she sung — She sung!— the voice, in better time, Perchance to harp or lute might chime ; And now, though strain'd and roughen'd, still Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. Canto IV The Prophecy XXII SONG They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, They say my brain is warp'd and wrung Canto IV The Prophecy no THE LADY OF THE LAKE I cannot sleep on Highland brae, I cannot pray in Highland tongue. But were I now where Allan glides, Or heard my native Devan's tides, So sweetly would I rest, and pray That Heaven would close my wintry day. 'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid, They made me to the church repair ; It was my bridal morn, they said, And my true love would meet me there. But woe betide the cruel guile. That drown'd in blood the morning smile ! And woe betide the fairy dream ! I only waked to sob and scream. XXIII ' Who is this maid, what means her lay ? She hovers o'er the hollow way. And flutters wide her mantle grey. As the lone heron spreads his wing. By twilight, o'er a haunted spring.'— ' 'Tis Blanche of Devan,' Murdoch said, ' A crazed and captive Lowland maid, Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, When Roderick foray'd Devan-side. The gay bridegroom resistance made. And felt our Chief's unconquer'd blade. I marvel she is now at large. But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge. THE PROPHECY III Hence, brain-sick fool ! '—He raised his bow :— canto iv ' Now, if thou strikes! her but one blow, — I '11 pitch thee from the clifp as far Prophecy As ever peasant pitch'd a bar ! ' — 'Thanks, champion, thanks !' the Maniac cried, And press'd her to Fitz-James's side. ' See the grey pennons I prepare. To seek my true-love through the air ! I will not lend that savage groom. To break his fall, one downy plume ! No !— deep amid disjointed stones, The wolves shall batten on his bones, And then shall his detested plaid, By bush and brier in mid air staid. Wave forth a banner fair and free. Meet signal for their revelry.' — XXIV ' Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still ! ' ' O ! thou look'st kindly, and I will.— Mine eye has dried and wasted been. But still it loves the Lincoln green ; And, though mine ear is all unstrung. Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. ' For O my sweet William was forester true, He stole poor Blanche's heart away ; His coat it was all of the greenwood hue. And so blithely he trill'd the Lowland lay! Canto IV The Prophecy 112 THE LADY OF THE LAKE ' It was not that I meant to tell . . . But thou art wise, and guessest well.' Then, in a low and broken tone, And hurried note, the song went on. Still on the Clansman, fearfully. She fix'd her apprehensive eye ; Then turn'd it on the Knight, and then Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. XXV ' The toils are pitch'd, and the stakes are set, Ever sing merrily, merrily ; The bows they bend, and the knives thej^ whet, Hunters live so cheerily. ' It was a stag, a stag of ten, Bearing his branches sturdily ; He came stately down the glen, Ever sing hardily, hardily. ' It was there he met with a wounded doe, She was bleeding deathf uUy ; She warn'd him of the toils below, O, so faithfully, faithfully ! ' He had an eye, and he could heed, Ever sing warily, warily ; He had a foot, and he could speed- Hunters watch so narrowly.' i// -■• "vV^ /" >)C He^'CC ^vcn^cr >efcA.. \» '^ii7: s bfc^jin3 THE PROPHECY 113 XXVI Fitz- James's mind was passion-toss'd, When Ellen's hints and fears were lost ; But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, And Blanche's song conviction brought. — Not like a stag that spies the snare, But lion of the hunt aware, He waved at once his blade on high, ' Disclose thy treachery, or die ! ' Forth at full speed the Clansman flew. But in his race his bow he drew. The shaft just grazed Fitz- James's crest. And thrill'd in Blanche's faded breast, — Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy sj)eed. For ne'er had Alpine's son such need ! With heart of fire, and foot of wind. The fierce avenger is behind ! Fate judges of the rapid strife — The forfeit death — the prize is life ! Thy kindred ambush lies before. Close couch'd upon the heathery moor ; Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not be— Thine ambush'd kin thou ne'er shalt see. The fiery Saxon gains on thee ! — Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, As lightning strikes the pine to dust ; With foot and hand Fitz - James must strain, Ere he can win his blade again. Bent o'er the fall'n, with falcon eye, He grimly smiled to see him die ; H Canto IV The Prophecy YT4 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto IV Then slower wended back his way, r^Q Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. Prophecy XXVII She sate beneath the birchen-tree, Her elbow resting on her knee ; She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, And gazed on it, and feebly laugh'd ; Her wreath of broom and feathers grey Daggled with blood, beside her lay. The Knight to stanch the life-stream tried, ' Stranger, it is in vain ! ' she cried. ' This hour of death has given me more Of reason's j^ower than years before ; For, as these ebbing veins decay, My frenzied visions fade away. A helpless injured wretch I die. And something tells me in thine eye, That thou wert mine avenger born. — Seest thou this tress ? — O ! still I 've worn This little tress of yellow hair, Through danger, frenzy, and despair I It once was bright and clear as thine, But blood and tears have dimm'd its shine. I will not tell thee when 'twas shred. Nor from what guiltless victim's head — My brain would turn ! — but it shall wave Like plumage on thy helmet brave, Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, And thou wilt bring it me again. — THE PROPHECY I15 I waver still. -O God ! more bright canto iv Let reason beam her parting light !— ~ O ! by thy knighthood's honoured sign, Prophecy And for thy life preserved by mine, When thou shalt see a darksome man, Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's clan, With tartans broad and shadowy plume, x\nd hand of blood, and brow of gloom. Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong! — They watch for thee by pass and fell . . . Avoid the path . . . O God ! . . . farewell.* XXVIII A kindly heart had brave Fitz- James ; Fast pour'd his eyes at pity s claims, And now, with mingled grief and ire. He saw the murder'd maid expire. ' God, in my need, be my relief, As I wreak this on yonder Chief I ' A lock from Blanche's tresses fair He blended with her bridegroom's hair ; The mingled braid in blood he dyed. And placed it on his bonnet-side : ' By Him, whose word is truth I I swear, No other favour will I wear. Till this sad token I imbrue In the best blood of Roderick Dhu ! —But hark ! what means yon faint halloo ? The chase is up,— but they shall know. The stag at bay 's a dangerous foe.' ii6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto IV The Prophecy Barrel from the known but guarded way, Through copse and chffs Fitz-Janies must stray, And oft must change his desperate track. By stream and precipice turn'd back. Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length. From lack of food and loss of strength. He couch'd him in a thicket hoar, And thought his toils and perils o'er : — ' Of all my rash adventures past. This frantic feat must prove the last ! Who e'er so mad but might have guess'd. That all this Highland hornet's nest Would muster up in swarms so soon As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ? — Like bloodhounds now they search me out, — Hark, to the whistle and the shout ! — If farther through the wilds I go, I only fall upon the foe : I '11 couch me here till evening grey, Then darkling try my dangerous way.' XXIX The shades of eve come slowly down. The woods are wrapt in deeper brown. The owl awakens from her dell, The fox is heard uj)on the fell ; Enough remains of glimmering light To guide the wanderer's steps aright. Yet not enough from far to show His figure to the watchful foe. THE PROPtlECy 117 With cautious step, and ear awake, Canto iv He climbs the crag and threads the brake ; ^^ And not the summer solstice, there. Prophecy Temper'd the midnight mountain air, But every breeze, that swept the wold, Benumb'd his drenched limbs with cold. In dread, in danger, and alone, Famish'd and chill'd, through ways unknown, Tangled and steep, he journey'd on ; Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, A watch-fire close before him burn'd. XXX Beside its embers red and clear, Bask'd, in his plaid, a mountaineer ; And up he sprung with sword in hand, — ' Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand ! ' — ' A stranger.' — ' What dost thou require ? ' — ' Rest and a guide, and food and fire. My life 's beset, my path is lost, The gale has chill'd my limbs with frost.' — ' Art thou a friend to Roderick ? ' — ' No.' — ' Thou darest not call thyself a foe ? ' — ' I dare ! to him and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand.' ' Bold words !— but, though the beast of game The privilege of chase may claim. Though space and law the stag we lend, Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend. Who ever reck'd, where, how, or when, The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain ? THE LADY OF THE LAKE Thus treacherous scouts, — 3^et sure they he, Who say thou earnest a secret spy ! ' ' They do, by Heaven ! — Come Roderick Dhu, And of his clan the boldest two, And let me but till morning rest, I write the falsehood on their crest.' — * If by the blaze I mark aright. Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight.' — ' Then by these tokens may'st thou know Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.' — ' Enough, enough ; sit down and share A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.' XXXI He gave him of his Highland cheer. The harden'd flesh of mountain deer ; Dry fuel on the fire he laid, And bade the Saxon share his plaid. He tended him like welcome guest. Then thus his further speech address'd. ' Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu A clansman born, a kinsman true ; Each word against his honovir spoke, Demands of me avenging stroke ; Yet more, — upon my fate, 'tis said, A mighty augury is laid. It rests with me to wind my horn, — Thou art with numbers overborne ; It rests with me, here, brand to brand. Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand : THE PROPHECY II9 But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause, Canto iv Will I depart from honour's laws ; _r To assail a wearied man were shame, Prophecy And stranger is a holy name ; Guidance and rest, and food and fire. In vain he never must require. Then rest thee here till dawn of day ; Myself will guide thee on the way. O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward. Till past Clan- Alpine's outmost guard. As far as Coilantogle's ford ; From thence thy warrant is thy sword.' ' I take thy courtesy, by Heaven, As freely as 'tis nobly given ! ' — ' Well, rest thee ; for the bittern's cry Sings us the lake's wild lullaby.' With that he shook the gather'd heath. And spread his inlaid upon the wreath ; And the brave f oemen, side by side, Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, And slept until the dawning beam Purpled the mountain and the stream. CANTO FIFTH THE COMBAT Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, When first, by the bewilder d pilgrim spied, It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, And lights the fearful path on mountain side ; — Fair as that beam, although the fairest far. Giving to horror grace, to danger pride. Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star, Through all the wreekful storms that cloud the brow of War. II That early beam, so fair and sheen, Was twinkling through the hazel screen, When, rousing at its glimmer red. The warriors left their lowly bed, Look'd out upon the dappled sky, Mutter'd their soldier matins by, And then awaked their fire, to steal. As short and rude, their soldier meal. That o'er, the Gael around him threw His graceful plaid of varied hue, And, true to promise, led the way, 120' THE COMBAT 121 By thicket green and mountain grey. canto v A wildering path !— they winded now The Along the precipice's brow, Combat Commanding the rich scenes beneath, The windings of the Forth and Teith, And all the vales between that lie, Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky ; Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance Gain'd not the length of horseman's lance. 'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain Assistance from the hand to gain ; So tangled oft, that, bursting through. Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew, — That diamond dew, so pure and clear. It rivals all but Beauty's tear ! Ill At length they came where, stern and steep. The hill sinks down upon the deep. Here Vennachar in silver flows. There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose ; Ever the hollow path twined on. Beneath steep bank and threatening stone ; An hundred men might hold the post With hardihood against a host. The rugged mountain's scanty cloak Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, With shingles bare, and cliffs between. And patches bright of bracken green. And heather black, that waved so high It held the copse in rivalry. 122 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V But where the lake slept deep and still, ■pj^g Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill ; Combat pAnd oft both path and hill were torn, Where wintry torrents down had borne. And heaiD'd uj)on the cuniber'd land Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. So toilsome was the road to trace, The guide, abating of his pace. Led slowly through the pass's jaws, And ask'd Fitz-James, by what strange cause He sought these wilds ? traversed by few. Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. IV ' Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried, Hangs in my belt, and by my side ; Yet, sooth to tell,' the Saxon said, ' I dreamt not now to claim its aid. When here, but three days since, I came, Bewilder'd in pursuit of game. All seem'd as peaceful and as still. As the mist slumbering on yon hill ; Thy dangerous Chief was then afar. Nor soon expected back from war. Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide, Though deep perchance the villain lied.' — ' Yet why a second venture trj^ ? ' — ' A warrior thou, and ask me why ! — Moves our free course by such fix'd cause, As gives the poor mechanic laws ? THE COMBAT 123 Enough, I sought to drive away canto v The lazy hours of peaceful day ; .^^^ Slight cause will then suffice to guide Combat A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — A falcon flow^n, a greyhound stray'd, The merry glance of mountain maid : Or, if a path be dangerous known, The danger's self is lure alone.'^ — ' Thy secret keep, I urge thee not ; — Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, Say, heard ye nought of Lowland war, Against Clan- Alpine, raised by Mar ? ' — ' No, by my word ; — of bands prepared To guard King James's si3orts I heard ; Nor doubt I ought, but, when they hear This muster of the mountaineer, Their pennons will abroad be flung, Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.' — ' Free be they flung ! for we were loth Their silken folds should feast the moth. Free be they flung ! — as free shall Avave Clan- Alpine's pine in banner brave. But, stranger, peaceful since you came, Bewilder'd in the mountain game, Whence the bold boast by which you show Vich- Alpine's vow'd and mortal foe ? ' ' Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew Nought of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 124 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V Save as an outlaw'd desperate man, T^g The chief of a rebellious elan, Combat Who, in the Eegent's court and sight, With ruffian dagger stabb'd a knight : Yet this alone might from his part Sever each true and loyal heart.' VI Wrothful at such arraignment foul, Dark lower'd the clansman's sable scowl. A space he paused, then sternly said, ' And heard'st thou why he drew his blade ? Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe ? What reck'd the Chieftain if he stood On Highland heath, or Holy-Rood ? He rights such wrong where it is given. If it were in the court of heaven.' ' Still was it outrage ; — yet, 'tis true. Not then claim'd sovereignty his due ; While Albany, with feeble hand. Held borrow'd truncheon of command, The young King, mew'd in Stirling tower, Was stranger to respect and power. But then, thy Chieftain's robber life ! Winning mean prey by causeless strife. Wrenching from ruin'd Low^land swain His herds and harvests rear'd in vain. Methinks a soul, like thine, should scorn The spoils from such foul foray borne.' THE COMBAT 125 "^11 Canto V The Gael beheld him grim the while, ~ And answer'd with disdainful smile,— combat ' Saxon, from yonder mountain high, I marked thee send delighted eye. Far to the south and east, where lay. Extended in succession gay, Deep waving fields and pastures green. With gentle slopes and groves between :— These fertile plains, that soften'd vale. Were once the birthright of the Gael ; The stranger came with iron hand, And from our fathers reft the land. Where dwell we now ! See rudely swell Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. Ask we this savage hill we tread, For fattened steer or household bread ; Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, And well the mountain might reply,— " To you, as to your sires of yore, Belong the target and claymore ! I give you shelter in my breast. Your own good blades must win the rest. Pent in this fortress of the North, Think'st thou we will not sally forth. To spoil the spoiler as we may. And from the robber rend the prey ? Ay, by my soul !— While on yon plain The Saxon rears one shock of grain ; While, of ten thousand herds, there strays But one along yon river's maze,— 26 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V The Gael, of plain and river heir, The Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. Combat Where hve the mountain Chiefs who hold That plundering Lowland field and fold Is aught but retribution true ? Seek other cause gainst Roderick Dhu.'— VIII Answer d Fitz-James,— ' And, if I sought, Think'st thou no other could be brought r What deem ye of my path waylaid ? My life given o'er to ambuscade ? — ' As of a meed to rashness due : Hadst thou sent warning fair and true,— I seek my hound, or falcon strayd, I seek, good faith, a Highland maid,— Free hadst thou been to come and go ; But secret path marks secret foe. Nor yet, for this, even as a spy, Hadst thou, unheard, been doom'd to die, Save to fulfil an augury.' — ' Well, let it pass ; nor will I now Fresh cause of enmity avow. To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. Enough, I am by promise tied To match me ^^^th this man of pride : Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine s glen In peace ; but when I come agen, I come with banner, brand, and bow, As leader seeks his mortal foe. THE COMBAT 1 27 For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower, canto v Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, ^^ As I, until before me stand combat This rebel Chieftain and his band ! ' IX ' Have, then, thy wish ! ' — he whistled shrill, And he was answer d from the hill ; Wild as the scream of the curlew, From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath, arose Bonnets, and spears, and bended bows ; On right, on left, above, below, Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; From shingles grey their lances start, The bracken bush sends forth the dart. The rushes and the willow- wand Are bristling into axe and brand, And every tuft of broom gives life To plaided warrior arm'd for strife. That whistle garrison'd the glen At once with full five hundred men. As if the yawning hill to heaven A subterranean host had given. Watching their leader's beck and will, All silent there they stood, and still. Like the loose crags whose threatening mass Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass. As if an infant's touch could urge Their headlong passage down the verge, With step and weapon forward flung, 128 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V Upon the mountain-side they hung. The The Mountaineer cast glance of pride comtoat Along Benledi's living side, Then fix'd his eye and sable brow Full on Fitz- James — ' How say'st thou now ? These are Clan- Alpine's warriors true ; And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu ! ' X Fitz-James was brave : — Though to his heart The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start, He mann d himself with dauntless air, Return'd the Chief his haughty stare. His back against a rock he bore. And firmly placed his foot before : — ' Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as 1.' Sir Roderick mark'd — and in his eyes Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In f oemen worthy of their steel. Short space he stood — then waved his hand : Down sunk the disappearing band ; Each warrior vanished where he stood. In broom or bracken, heath or wood ; Sunk brand, and spear, and bended bow, In osiers pale and copses low ; It seem'd as if their mother Earth Had swallow'd up her warlike birth. The wind's last breath had toss'd in air, Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair, — ','.'' THE COMBAT 129 The next but swept a lone hill-side, canto v Where heath and fern were waving wide : ~ The sun s last glance was glinted back, Combat From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,— The next, all unreflected, shone On bracken green, and cold grey stone. XI Fitz-James look'd round— yet scarce believed The witness that his sight received ; Such apparition well might seem Delusion of a dreadful dream. Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed. And to his look the Chief replied, ' Fear nought— nay, that I need not say- But— doubt not aught from mine array. Thou art my guest ;— I pledged my word As far as Coilantogle ford : Nor would I call a clansman's brand For aid against one vaHant hand. Though on our strife lay every vale Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. So move we on ;— I only meant To show the reed on which you leant. Deeming this path you might pursue Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.' They moved ;— I said Fitz-James was brave. As ever knight that belted glaive ; Yet dare not say, that now his blood Kept on its wont and temper'd flood. I30 Canto V The Combat THE LADY OF THE LAKE As, following Roderick's stride, he drew That seeming lonesome pathway through, Which yet, by fearful ]3roof, was rife With lances, that, to take his life, Waited but signal from a guide, So late dishonour d and defied. Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round The vanish'd guardians of the ground, And still, from copse and heather deep, Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, And in the plover s shrilly strain, The signal whistle heard again. Nor breathed he free till far behind The pass was left ; for then they wind Along a wide and level green. Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, Nor rush nor bush of broom was near, To hide a bonnet or a spear. XII The Chief in silence strode before, And reach'd that torrent's sounding shore, Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, From Vennachar in silver breaks, Sweeps through the i^lain, and ceaseless mines On Bochastle the mouldering lines, Where Rome, the Empress of the world, Of yore her eagle wings unf url'd : And here his course the Chieftain staid. Threw down his target and his plaid. THE COMBAT 131 And to the Lowland warrior said :— canto v ' Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, — Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. combat This murderous Chief, this ruthless man. This head of a rebellious clan. Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. Now, man to man, and steel to steel, A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. See, here, all vantageless I stand, Arm'd, like thyself, with single brand : For this is Coilantogle ford, And thou must keep thee with thy sword.' XIII The Saxon paused :— ' I ne'er delay'd, When f oeman bade me draw my blade ; Nay more, brave Chief, I vow'd thy death : Yet sure thy fair and generous faith. And my deep debt for life preserved, A better meed have well deserved : Can nought but blood our feud atone ? Are there no means ?'—' No, stranger, none I And hear,— to fire thy flagging zeal,— The Saxon cause rests on thy steel : For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred Between the living and the dead ; " Who spills the foremost f oeman's life, His party conquers in the strife." '— ' Then, by my word,' the Saxon said, ' Thy riddle is already read. 132 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — xS^e There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. Combat Thus Fate has solved her prophecy, Then yield to Fate, and not to me. To James, at Stirling, let us go, When, if thou wilt be still his foe. Or if the King shall not agree To grant thee grace and favour free, I plight mine honour, oath, and word. That, to thy native strengths restored. With each advantage shalt thou stand, That aids thee now to guard thy land.* XIV Dark lightning flash'd from Roderick's eye- ' Soars thy presumption, then, so high, Because a wretched kern ye slew. Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ? He yields not, he, to man nor Fate ! Thou add'st but fuel to my hate :— My clansman's blood demands revenge. — Not yet prepared ? — By Heaven, I change My thought, and hold thy valour light As that of some vain carpet knight, Who ill deserved my courteous care. And whose best boast is but to wear A braid of his fair lady's hair.' — — ' I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; For I have sworn this braid to stain In the best blood that warms thy vein. THE COMBAT 133 Now, truce, farewell ! and, ruth, begone ! canto v Yet think not that by thee alone, ^^ Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ; combat Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn. Start at my whistle clansmen stern, Of this small horn one feeble blast Would fearful odds against thee cast. But fear not— doubt not— which thou wilt— We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.' Then each at once his falchion drew, Each on the ground his scabbard threw. Each look'd to sun, and stream, and plain, As what they ne'er might see again ; Then foot, and point, and eye opposed, In dubious strife they darkly closed. XV 111 fared it then with Koderick Dhu, That on the field his targe he threw, Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide Had death so often dash'd aside ; For, train'd abroad his arms to wield, Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. He practised every pass and ward. To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; Wliile less expert, though stronger far, The Gael maintain'd unequal war. Three times in closing strife they stood, And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood ; No stinted draught, no scanty tide, The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 134 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain, r^Q And shower'd his blows like wintry rain ; Combat And, as firm rock, or castle-roof. Against the winter shower is proof, The foe, invulnerable still, Foil'd his wild rage by steady skill ; /- Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand X Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, And backward borne upon the lea. Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. XVI ' Now, yield thee, or by Him who made The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade !'- ' Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! Let recreant yield, who fears to die.' — Like adder darting from his coil, Like wolf that dashes through the toil. Like mountain-cat who guards her 3^oung, Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ; Receiv'd, but reck'd not of a wound, And lock'd his arms his foeman round. — . Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! No maiden's hand is round thee thrown ! That desperate grasp thy frame might feel, Through bars of brass and triple steel! — They tug, they strain ! down, down they go, The Gael above, Fitz-James below. The Chieftain's gripe his throat comj)ress'd, His knee was planted in his breast ; 55',', '', ', ' ' ^z-^^kiSp THE COMBAT His clotted locks he backward threw, canto v Across his brow his hand he drew, ~ From blood and mist to clear his sight, Combat Then gieam'd aloft his dagger bright ! —But hate and fury ill supplied The stream of life's exhausted tide, And all too late the advantage came, To turn the odds of deadly game ; For, while the dagger gleam'd on high, Reel'd soul and sense, reel'd brain and eye. Down came the blow ! but in the heath The erring blade found bloodless sheath. The struggling foe may now unclasp The fainting Chiefs relaxing grasp ; Un wounded from the dreadful close, But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. XVII He falter'd thanks to Heaven for life, Redeem'd, unhoped, from desperate strife ; Next on his foe his look he cast. Whose every gasp appear'd his last ; In Roderick's gore he dipp'd the braid,— ' Poor Blanche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid Yet with thy foe must die, or live. The praise that Faith and Valour give.' With that he blew a bugle-note. Undid the collar from his throat, Unbonneted, and by the wave Sat down his brow and hands to lave. ]36 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V Then faint afar are heard the feet The ^f rushing steeds in gallox) fleet ; Combat The sounds increase, and now are seen Four mounted squires in Lincohi green ; Two who bear lance, and two who lead, By loosen'd rein, a saddled steed ; Each onward held his headlong course. And by Fitz-James rein'd up his horse, — With wonder view'd the bloody spot — ' Exclaim not, gallants ! question not. — You, Herbert and LufPness, alight. And bind the wounds of yonder knight ; Let the grey palfrey bear his weight. We destined for a fairer freight. And bring him on to Stirling straight ; I will before at better speed, To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. The sun rides high ; — I must be boune. To see the archer game at noon ; But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — De Yaux and Herries, follow me. XVIII ' Stand, Bayard, stand ! ' — the steed obey'd. With arching neck and bended head, And glancing eye and quivering ear, As if he loved his lord to hear. No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid. No grasp upon the saddle laid. But wreath'd his left hand in the mane, And lightly bounded from the plain. THE COMBAT 137 Turn'd on the horse his armed heel, And stirr'd his courage with the steel. Bounded the fiery steed in air, The rider sate erect and fair. Then hke a holt from steel crossbow Forth launch'd, along the plain they go. They dash'd that rapid torrent through, And up Carhonie's hill they flew ; Still at the gallop prick'd the Knight, His merry-men f ollow'd as they might. Along thy banks, swift Teith ! they ride. And in the race they mock thy tide ; Torry and Lendrick now are past, And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; They rise, the banner'd towers of Doune, They sink in distant woodland soon ; Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire. They sweep like breeze through Ochter- tyre ; They mark just glance and disappear The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides, And on the opposing shore take ground, With splash, with scramble, and with bound. Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig- Forth ! And soon the bulwark of the North, Grey Stirling, with her towers and town. Upon their fleet career look'd down. Canto V The Combat 138 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V XIX The As up the flinty path they strain'd, Combat Sudden his steed the leader rein'd ; A signal to his sqviire he flung, Who instant to his stirrup sprung : — ' See'st thou, De Yaux, yon woodsman grey Who town- ward holds the rocky way. Of stature tall and poor array ? Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride. With which he scales the mountain-side ? Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom ? ' — ' No, by my word ; — a burly groom He seems, who in the field or chase A baron's train would nobly grace.' — ' Out, out, De Vaux ! can fear supply, And jealousy, no sharper eye ? Afar, ere to the hill he drew. That stately form and step I knew ; Like form in Scotland is not seen. Treads not such step on Scottish green. "Tis James of Douglas, by Saint Serle ! The uncle of the banish'd Earl. Away, away, to court, to show The near approach of dreaded foe. The King must stand upon his guard ; Douglas and he must meet prepared.' Then right-hand wheel'd their steeds, and straight They won the castle's postern gate. THECOMBAT 139 XX Canto V The Douglas, who had bent his way The From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey grey, Combat Now, as he climb'd the rocky shelf, Held sad communion with himself :— ' Yes ! all is true my fears could frame ; A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, And fiery Roderick soon will feel The vengeance of the royal steel. I, only I, can ward their fate,— God grant the ransom come not late ! The Abbess hath her promise given. My child shall be the bride of Heaven ;— — Be pardon'd one repining tear ! For He, who gave her, knows how dear. How excellent ! but that is by, And now my business is — to die. —Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; And thou, O sad and fatal mound ! That oft hast heard the death-axe sound, As on the noblest of the land Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand,— The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb Prepare— for Douglas seeks his doom ! —But hark ! what blithe and jolly peal Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ? And see ! upon the crowded street. In motley groups what masquers meet ! Banner and pageant, pipe and drum. And merry morrice-dancers come. I40 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V I guess, by all this quaint array, rp^g The burghers hold their sports to-day. Combat James will be there ; he loves such show, Where the good yeoman bends his bow, And the tough wrestler foils his foe, As well as where, in proud career. The high-born tilter shivers spear. I '11 follow to the Castle-park, And play my prize ; — King James shall mark, If age has tamed these sinews stark, Whose force so oft, in hajDpier days. His boyish wonder loved to praise.* XXI The Castle gates were open flung, The quivering drawbridge rock'd and rung. And echo'd loud the flinty street Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, As slowly down the steej) descent Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, While all along the crowded way Was jubilee and loud huzza. And ever James was bending low, To his white jennet's saddlebow, Doffing his cap to city dame. Who smiled and blush'd for i>ride and shame. And well the simperer might be vain, — He chose the fairest of the train. Gravely he greets each city sire, Conamends each pageant's quaint attire, /~(riS ever' rp,rr>es THE COMBAT 141 Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, Canto v And smiles and nods upon the crowd, _r Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, combat ' Long live the Commons' King, King James ! ' Behind the King throng'd peer and knight, And noble dame and damsel bright. Whose fiery steeds ill brook'd the stay Of the steep street and crowded way. — But in the train you might discern Dark lowering brow and visage stern ; There nobles mourn VI their pride restraincl. And the mean burgher's joys disdain'd ; And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan. Were each from home a banisli d man. There thought upon their own grey tower. Their waving woods, their feudal power. And deem'd themselves a shameful part Of pageant which they cursed in heart. XXII Now, in the Castle-park, drew out Their chequer'd bands the joyous rout. There morricers, with bell at heel, And blade in hand, their mazes wheel ; But chief, beside the butts, there stand Bold Robin Hood and all his band, — Friar Tuck with quart erstaff and cowl. Old Scathelocke with his surly scow 1, Maid Marion, fair as ivory bone. Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John ; 142 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V Their bugles challenge all that will, T^e In archery to prove their skill. Combat The Douglas bent a bow of might, His first shaft centred in the white. And when in turn he shot again. His second split the first in twain. From the King s hand must Douglas take A silver dart, the archer's stake ; Fondly he watch'd, with watery eye. Some answering glance of sympathy, — No kind emotion made reply I Indifferent as to archer wight. The monarch gave the arrow bright. XXIII Now, clear the ring I for, liand to hand. The manly wrestlers take their stand. Two o'er the rest superior rose. And proud demanded mightier foes. Nor callcl in vain ; for Douglas came. — For life is Hugh of Larbert lame ; Scarce better John of Alloa's fare. Whom senseless home his comrades bear. Prize of the wrestling match, the King To Douglas gave a golden ring, ^\^iile coldly glanced his eye of blue, As frozen droj) of wintry dew. Douglas would speak, but in his breast His struggling soul his words suppress'd ; Indignant then he turn'd him where THE COMBAT 143 Their arms the brawny yeomen bare, canto v To hurl the massive bar in air. The When each his utmost strength had shown, combat The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone From its deep bed, then heaved it high, And sent the fragment through the sky, A rood beyond the farthest mark ; And still in Stirling's royal park, The grey-hair'd sires, who know the past. To strangers point the Douglas-cast, And moralise on the decay Of Scottish strength in modern day. XXIV The vale with loud applauses rang. The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang. The King, with look unmoved, bestow'd A purse well filled with pieces broad. Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, And threw the gold among the crowd, Who now, with anxious wonder, scan. And sharper glance, the dark grey man : Till whispers rose among the throng, That heart so free, and hand so strong. Must to the Douglas blood belong ; The old men mark'd and shook the head, To see his hair with silver spread. And wink'd aside, and told each son. Of feats upon the English done, Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand Was exiled from his native land. 144 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V The women prais'd his stately form, 7^ Though wreck'd by many a winter s storm Combat The youth with awe and wonder saw His strength surpassing Nature's law. Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, Till murmur rose to clamours loud. But not a glance from that proud ring Of peers who circled round the King, With Douglas held communion kind, Or call'd the banish'd man to mind ; No, not from those who, at the chase, Once held his side the honourd place, Begirt his board, and, in the field. Found safety underneath his shield ; For he, whom royal eyes disown. When was his form to courtiers known ! XXV The Monarch saw the gambols flag. And bade let loose a gallant stag, Whose pride, the holiday to crown, Two favourite greyhounds should pull down That venison free, and Bourdeaux wine. Might serve the archery to dine. But Lufra,— whom from Douglas' side Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide, The fleetest hound in all the North,— Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. She left the royal hounds mid- way, And dashing on the antler' d prey. THE COMBAT 145 Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank, Canto v And deep the flowing life-blood drank. r^^ The King's stout huntsman saw the sport combat By strange intruder broken short, Came up, and with his leash unbound. In anger struck the noble hound. — The Douglas had endured, that morn, The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn. And last, and worst to spirit proud, Had borne the pity of the crowd ; But Lufra had been fondly bred, To share his board, to watch his bed. And oft would Ellen, Lufra's neck. In maiden glee, with garlands deck ; They were such playmates, that with name Of Lufra, Ellen's image came. His stifled wrath is brimming high. In darken'd brow and flashing eye ; As waves before the bark divide. The crowd gave way before his stride ; Needs but a buffet and no more. The groom lies senseless in his gore. Such blow no other hand could deal, Though gauntleted in glove of steel. XXVI Then clamour'd loud the royal train. And brandish'd swords and staves amain. But stern the Baron's warning — ' Back ! Back, on your lives, ye menial pack ! 146 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V Beware the Douglas.— Yes ! behold, T^e King James ! the Douglas, doom'd of old, Combat And vainly sought for near and far, A victim to atone the war, A willing victim now attends. Nor craves thy grace but for his friends.' — ' Thus is my clemency repaid ? Presumptuous Lord ! ' the Monarch said ; ' Of thy mis-proud ambitious clan, Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, The only man, in whom a foe My woman-mercy would not know : But shall a Monarch's presence brook Injurious blow, and haughty look?— What ho ! the Captain of our Guard ! Give the offender fitting ward.— Break off the sports ! '—for tumult rose. And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows,— ' Break off the sports ! ' he said, and f rown'd, ' And bid our horsemen clear the ground.' XXVII Then uproar wild and misarray Marr'd the fair form of festal day. The horsemen i3rick'd among the crowd, Repeird by threats and insult loud ; To earth are borne the old and weak. The timorous fly, the women shriek ; With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, The hardier urge tumultuous war. At once round Douglas darkly sweep THE COMBAT 147 The royal spears in circle deep, Canto v And slowly scale the pathway steep ; ^ While on the rear in thunder pour Combat The rabble with disorder'd roar. With grief the noble Douglas saw The Commons rise against the law, And to the leading soldier said,— ' Sir John of Hyndf ord ! 'twas my blade, That knighthood on thy shoulder laid ; For that good deed, permit me then A word with these misguided men. XXVIII ' Hear, gentle friends ! ere yet fo^^me Ye break the bands of fealty. My life, my honour, and my cause, I tender free to Scotland's laws. Are these so weak as must require The aid of your misguided ire ? Or, if I sufPer causeless wrong. Is then my selfish rage so strong, My sense of public weal so low, That, for mean vengeance on a foe. Those cords of love I should unbind. Which knit my country and my kind ? Oh no ! Believe, in yonder tower It will not soothe my captive hour, To know those spears our foes should dread, For me in kindred gore are red ; To know, in fruitless brawl begun. For me, that mother wails her son ; 148 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V For me, that widow's mate expires ; ~^ For me, that orphans weep their sires ; Combat That patriots mourn insulted laws, And curse the Douglas for the cause. O let your patience ward such ill, And keep your right to love me still ! ' XXIX The crowd's wild fury sunk again In tears, as tempests melt in rain. With lifted hands and eyes, they pray'd For blessings on his generous head. Who for his country felt alone, And prized her blood beyond his own. Old men, upon the verge of life, Bless'd him who stay'd the civil strife ; And mothers held their babes on high. The self -devoted Chief to spy. Triumphant over wrongs and ire. To whom the prattlers owed a sire : Even the rough soldier's heart was moved As if behind some bier beloved, With trailing arms and drooping head, The Douglas up the hill he led. And at the Castle's battled verge. With sighs resign d his honour'd charge. XXX The ofPended Monarch rode apart. With bitter thought and swelling heart. THE COMBAT 149 And would not now vouchsafe again canto v Through Stirling streets to lead his train. ^he ' O Lennox, who would wish to rule combat This changeling crowd, this common fool ? Hear st thou,' he said, ' the loud acclaim. With which they shout the Douglas name ? With like acclaim, the vulgar throat Strain'd for King James their morning note ; With like acclaim they hail'd the day When first 1 broke the Douglas' sway ; And like acclaim would Douglas greet. If he could hurl me from my seat. Who o'er the herd would wish to reign. Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ! Vain as the leaf upon the stream. And fickle as a changeful dream, Fantastic as a woman's mood. And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood. Thou many-headed monster-thing, who would wish to be thy king ! — XXXI ' But soft ! what messenger of speed Spurs hitherward his panting steed ? 1 guess his cognisance afar — What from our cousin, John of Mar ? ' — ' He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound Within the safe and guarded ground : For some foul purpose yet unknown, — Most sure for evil to the throne,— 15© THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto V The outlaw'd Chieftain, Roderich Dhu, ^g Has summon d his rebellious creAv ; Combat 'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid These loose banditti stand arrayd. The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune, To break their muster march'd, and soon Your grace will hear of battle fought ; But earnestly the Earl besought, Till from such danger he provide, With scanty train you will not ride/ XXXII ' Thou warn'st me I have done amiss, — I should have earlier looked to this : I lost it in this bustling day. — Retrace with speed thy former way, Spare not for spoiling of thy steed. The best of mine shall be thy meed. Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, We do forbid the intended war : Roderick, this morn, in single fight. Was made our prisoner by a knight ; And Douglas hath himself and cause Submitted to our kingdoms laws. The tidings of their leaders lost Will soon dissolve the mountain host. Nor would we that the vulgar feel, For their Chiefs crimes, avenging steel. Bear Mar our message, Braco ; fly I ' — He turn d his steed, — ' My liege, I hie, — THECOMBAT 151 Yet, ere I cross this lily lawn, canto v I fear the broadswords will be drawn.' ^^ The turf the flying courser spurn'd, combat And to his towers the King return'd. XXXIII 111 with King James's mood that day, Suited gay feast and minstrel lay ; Soon were dismiss'd the courtly throng. And soon cut short the festal song. Nor less upon the sadden'd town The evening sunk in sorrow down. The burghers spoke of civil jar. Of rumour d feuds and mountain war. Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, All up in arms : — the Douglas too. They mourn d him pent within the hold, ' Where stout Earl William was of old.' And there his word the speaker staid. And finger on his lip he laid. Or pointed to his dagger blade. But jaded horsemen, from the west. At evening to the Castle press'd ; And busy talkers said they bore Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ; At noon the deadly fray begun. And lasted till the set of sun. Thus giddy rumour shook the town. Till closed the Night her pennons brown. CANTO SIXTH THE GUARD-ROOM I The sun, awakening, through the smoky air Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, Of sinful man the sad inheritance ; Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, Scaring the x^rowling robber to his den ; Gilding on battled tower the warder s lance, And warning student pale to leave his pen, And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men. What various scenes, and, O ! what scenes of woe. Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam ! The fever'd patient from his pallet low. Through crowded hospital beholds its stream. The ruin'd maiden trembles at its gleam, The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream ; The wakeful mother, by the glimmering joale, Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail. THE GUARD-ROOM 153 II At dawn the towers of Stirling rang With soldier-step and weapon-clang, While drums, with rolling note, foretell Relief to weary sentinel. Through narrow loop and casement barr'd The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, And, struggling with the smoky air, Deadend the torches' yellow glare. In comfortless alliance shone The lights through arch of blacken'd stone, And show'd wild shapes in garb of war. Faces def orm'd with beard and scar, All haggard from the midnight watch, And f ever'd with the stern debauch ; For the oak table's massive board, Flooded with wine, with fragments stored, And beakers drain'd, and cups o'erthrown, Show'd in ^vhat sport the night had flown. Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; Some labour'd still their thirst to quench ; Some, chill'd with watching, spread their hands O'er the huge chimney's dying brands. While round them, or beside them flung. At every step their harness rung. Canto VI The Guard- room III These drew not for their fields the sword. Like tenants of a feudal lord. 154 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto VI The Guard- room Nor own'd the patriarchal claim Of Chieftain in their leader's name ; Adventurers they, from far who roved, To live by battle which they loved. There the Italian's clouded face, The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace ; The mountain-loving Switzer there More freely breath'd in mountain air ; The Fleming there despised the soil, That paid so ill the labourer's toil ; Their rolls show'd French and German name ; And merry England's exiles came. To share, with ill-conceal'd disdain. Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. All brave in arms, well train'd to wield The heavy halberd, brand, and shield ; In camps licentious, wild, and bold ; In pillage fierce and uncontroll'd ; And now, by holytide and feast. From rules of discipline released. IV They held debate of bloody fray. Fought 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achray. Fierce was their speech, and, 'mid their words, Their hands oft grappled to their swords ; Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear Of wounded comrades groaning near. Whose mangled limbs, and bodies gored, Bore token of the mountain sword. room THE GUARD -ROOM 155 Though, neighbouring to the Court of Guard, canto vi Their prayers and feverish wails were heard ; The Sad burden to the ruffian joke, G^ard- And savage oath by fury spoke ! — At length up-started John of Brent, A yeoman from the banks of Trent ; A stranger to respect or fear, In peace a chaser of the deer, In host a hardy mutineer, But still the boldest of the crew, When deed of danger was to do. He grieved, that day, their games cut short, And marr'd the dicer's brawling sport, And shouted loud, ' Renew the bowl ! And, while a merry catch I troll, Let each the buxom chorus bear. Like brethren of the brand and spear.' V soldier's song Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl. That there 's wrath and despair in the jolly black- jack. And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ; Yet whoop, Barnaby ! off with thy liquor. Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar ! Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip. 156 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto VI Says, that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly, ^~g And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black Guard- eye ; room Yet whoop. Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker, Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar ! Our vicar thus preaches — and why should he not? For the dues of his cure are the i^lacket and x^ot ; And 'tis right of his office poor laymen to lurch. Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church, Yet whoop, l)ully-boys ! off with your liquor. Sweet Marjorie 's the word, and a fig for the vicar! VI The warders challenge, heard without. Staid in mid-roar the merry shout. A soldier to the portal went, — ' Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent ; And, — beat for jubilee the drum ! A maid and minstrel with him come.' Bertram, a Fleming, grey and scarr d, Was entering now the Court of Guard. A harj)er with him, and in plaid All muffled close, a mountain maid. Who backward shrunk to 'scape the view Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. ' What news ? ' they roared : — ' I only know Fro«m noon till eve we fought with foe. As wild and as untameable As the rude mountains where they dwell ; room THE GUARD-ROOM 1 57 On both sides store of blood is lost, canto vi Nor much success can either boast.' — The ' But whence thy captives, friend ? such spoil Guard As theirs must needs reward thy toil. Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp ; Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp ! Get thee an ape and trudge the land, The leader of a juggler band.' VII ' No, comrade ; no such fortune mine. After the fight these sought our line. That aged harper and the girl, And, having audience of the Earl, Mar bade I should purvey them steed. And bring them hitherward with speed. Forbear your mirth and rude alarm. For none shall do them shame or harm.' ' Hear ye his boast ? ' cried John of Brent, Ever to strife and jangling bent ; ' Shall he strike doe beside our lodge. And yet the jealous niggard grudge To pay the forester his fee ? I '11 have my share, howe'er it be. Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee.' Bertram his forward step withstood ; And, burning in his vengeful mood, Old Allan, though unfit for strife. Laid hand upon his dagger-knife ; But Ellen boldly stepp'd between. And dropp'd at once the tartan screen : 158 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto VI The Guard- room So, from his morning cloud, appears The sun of May, through summer tears. The savage soldiery, amazed, As on descended angel gazed ; Even hard}^ Brent, abash'd and tamed. Stood half admirmg, half ashamed. VIII Boldly she spoke, — ' Soldiers, attend ; My father was the soldier's friend : Cheerd hmi in camps, in marches led, And with him in the battle bled. Not from the valiant, or the strong, Should exile's daughter suffer w^rong.' Answer'd De Brent, most forward still In every feat or good or ill, ' I shame me of the part I play'd : And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid I An outlaw I by forest laws. And merry Needwood knows the cause. Poor Rose, — if Rose be living now,' He wiiDed his iron eye and brow, ' Must bear such age, I think, as thou. Hear ye, my mates :^I go to call The Captain of our watch to hall : There lies my halbert on the floor ; And he that steps my halbert o'er, To do the maid injurious part. My shaft shall quiver in his heart I — Beware loose speech, or jesting rough : Ye all know John de Brent. Enough. e.a\* v/e, , rr»-y TT\e.te% — THE GUARD-ROOM 159 IX Their Captain came, a gallant young, — (Of Tullibardine's house he sprung,) Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight ; Gay was his mien, his humour light, And, though by courtesy controll'd. Forward his speech, his bearing bold. The high-born maiden ill could brook The scanning of his curious look And davmtless eye ;— and yet, in sooth. Young Lewis was a generous youth ; But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 111 suited to the garb and scene. Might lightly bear construction strange, And give loose fancy scope to range. ' Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid ! Come ye to seek a champion's aid, On palfrey white, with harper hoar. Like errant damosel of yore ? Does thy high quest a knight require, Or may the venture suit a squire ? '— Her dark eye flash'd ;— she paused sigh'd,— ' O what have I to do with pride ! — Through scenes of sorrow, shame, strife, A suppliant for a father s life, I crave an audience of the King. Behold, to back my suit, a ring. The royal pledge of grateful claims. Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James.' Canto VI The Guard- room and and :6o THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto VI The Guard- room The signet-ring yonng Lewis took, With deep respect and aher'd look ; And said,—' This ring our duties own ; And pardon, if to w orth unknown, In semblance mean obscurely veil'd, Lady, in aught my folly fail'd. Soon as the day flings wide his gates, The King shall know what suitor waits. Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower Eepose you till his waking hour : Female attendance shall obey Your best, for service or array. Permit I marshal you the way.' But, ere she follow"d, with the grace And open bounty of her race, She bade her slender purse be shared Among the soldiers of the guard. The rest with thanks their guerdon took ; But Brent, with shy and awkward look. On the reluctant maiden's hold Forced bluntly back the proft'er'd gold ; ' Forgive a haughty English heart. And O forget its ruder part I The vacant purse shall be my share, Which in my barret-cap I '11 bear, Perchance in jeopardy of war. Where gayer crests may keep afar.' With thanks,— 'twas all she could,— the maid His rugged courtesy repaid. THE GUARD-ROOM i6i ^^ Canto VI When Ellen forth with Lewis went, ~ Allan made suit to John of Brent :— Guard- ' My lady safe, O let your grace ^oo^ Give me to see my master s face ! His minstrel I,— to share his doom Bound from the cradle to the tomb. Tenth in descent, since first my sires Waked for his noble house their lyres, Nor one of all the race was known But prized its weal above their own. With the Chiefs birth begins our care ; Our harp must soothe the infant heir, Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace His earhest feat of field or chase ; In peace, in war, our rank we keep, We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep. Nor leave him till we pour our verse,— A doleful tribute !-o'er his hearse. Then let me share his captive lot ; It is my right— deny it not ! '— ' Little we reck,' said John of Brent, ' We southern men, of long descent ; Nor wot we how a name— a word- Makes clansmen vassals to a lord : Yet kind my noble landlord's part,— God bless the house of Beaudesert ! And, but I loved to drive the deer, More than to guide the labouring steer, I had not dwelt an outcast here. l62 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto VI The Guard- room Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ; Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see. XII Then, from a rusted iron hook, A bunch of ponderous keys he took, Lighted a torch, and Allan led Through grated arch and passage dread. Portals they pass'd, where, deep within. Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters' din : Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored, Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword, And many an hideous engine grim, For wrenching joint, and crushing limb. By artist f orm'd, who deem'd it shame And sin to give their work a name. They halted at a low-brow'd porch. And Brent to Allan gave the torch. While bolt and chain he backward roU'd, And made the bar unhasp its hold. They enter d : — 'twas a prison-room Of stern security and gloom. Yet not a dungeon ; for the day Through lofty gratings found its way. And rude and antique garniture Deck'd the sad walls and oaken floor ; Such as the rugged days of old Deem'd fit for captive noble's hold. ' Here,' said De Brent, ' thou may'st remain Till the Leech visit him again. THE GUARD-ROOM 163 Strict is his charge, the warders tell, canto vi To tend the noble prisoner well.' — Retiring then, the bolt he drew, Guard- And the lock's murmurs growl'd anew. ^°°"^ Roused at the sound, from lowly bed A captive feebly raised his head ; The wondering Minstrel look'd, and knew- Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu ! For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, They, erring, deem'd the Chief he sought. XIII As the tall ship, whose lofty prore Shall never stem the billows more. Deserted by her gallant band, Amid the breakers lies astrand. So, on his couch, lay Roderick Dhu I And oft his fever'd limbs he threw In toss abrupt, as when her sides Lie rocking in the advancing tides. That shake her frame with ceaseless beat. Yet cannot heave her from her seat ;— O ! how unlike her course at sea ! Or his free step on hill and lea !— Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, ' What of thy lady ?— of my clan ?— My mother ?— Douglas ?— tell me all ! Have they been ruin'd in my fall ? Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here I Yet speak,— speak boldly,— do not fear.'— 164 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto VI The Guard- room (For Allan, who his mood well knew, Was choked with grief and terror too.) — 'Who fought? — who fled? — Old man, be brief ; — Some might — for they had lost their Chief. Who basely live ? — who bravely died ? ' — ' O calm thee. Chief ! ' the Minstrel cried, ' Ellen is safe ' ; — ' For that thank Heaven ! ' ' And hopes are for the Douglas given ;— The Lady Margaret, too, is well. And, for thy clan, — on field or fell. Has never harp of minstrel told. Of combat fought so true and bold. Thy stately Pine is yet unbent, Though many a goodly bough is rent.' XIV The Chieftain rear'd his form on high. And fever's fire was in his eye ; But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks Chequer'd his swarthy brow and cheeks. — ' Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play. With measure bold, on festal day. In yon lone isle, . . . again where ne'er Shall harj)er play, or warrior hear ! . . . That stirring air that peals on high, O'er Dermid's race our victory. — Strike it ! — and then (for well thou canst). Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced. Fling me the picture of the fight, When met my clan the Saxon might. THE GUARD-ROOM 165 1 11 listen, till my fancy hears canto vi The clang of swords, the crash of spears ! The These grates, these walls, shall vanish then, Guard- For the fair field of fighting men, And my free spirit burst away, As if it soar'd from battle fray.' The trembling Bard with awe obey'd,— Slow on the harp his hand he laid ; But soon remembrance of the sight He witness'd from the mountain's height. With what old Bertram told at night, Awaken'd the full power of song, And bore him in career along ;— As shallop launch'd on river's tide, That slow and fearful leaves the side. But, when it feels the middle stream. Drives downward swift as lightning's beam. XV BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINE ' The Minstrel came once more to view The eastern ridge of Benvenue, For, ere he parted, he would say Farewell to lovely Loch Achray— Where shall he find, in foreign land, So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! There is no breeze upon the fern. Nor ripple on the lake. Upon her eyry nods the erne, The deer has sought the brake ; i66 THE LADY OF THE LAKE The Guard- room The small birds will not sing aloud, The springing trout lies still, So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud, That s^vathes, as with a purple shroud, Benledi's distant hill. Is it the thunder's solemn sound That mutters deep and dread, Or echoes from the groaning ground The warrior's measured tread ? Is it the lightning's quivering glance That on the thicket streams, Or do they flash on spear and lance. The sun's retiring beams ? — I see the dagger-crest of Mar, I see the Moray's silver star, Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war. That up the lake comes winding far ! To hero bound for battle-strife, Or bard of martial lay, 'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life, One glance at their array ! XVI ' Their light-arm'd archers far and near Survey'd the tangled ground. Their centre ranks, with iDike and spear, A twilight forest f rown'd, Their barbed horsemen, in the rear. The stern battalia crown'd. No cymbal clash'd, no clarion rang. Still were the pipe and drum ; THE GUARD -ROOM 167 Save heavy tread, and armour's clang, canto vi The sullen march was dumb. The There breathed no wind their crests to shake, Guard- Or wave their flags abroad ; Scarce the frail aspen seem'd to quake. That shadow'd o'er their road. Their vanward scouts no tidings bring, Can rouse no lurking foe. Nor spy a trace of living thing, Save when they stirr'd the roe : The host moves, like a deep-sea wave, Where rise no rocks its pride to brave, High-swelling, dark, and slow. The lake is pass'd, and now they gain A narrow and a broken plain. Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws ; And here the horse and spearmen pause, While, to explore the dangerous glen, Dive through the pass the archer-men. XVII ' At once there rose so wild a yell Within that dark and narrow dell. As all the fiends, from heaven that fell, Had peal'd the banner-cry of hell ! Forth from the pass in tumult driven. Like chaff before the wind of heaven. The archery appear : For life ! for life ! their plight they ply- And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, i68 THE LADY OF THE LAKE And i^laicls and bonnets waving high, And broadswords flashing to the sky, Are maddening in the rear. Onward they drive, in dreadful race, Pursuers and pursued ; Before that tide of flight and chase, How shall it keep its rooted place, The sj)earnien's tw^ilight wood ? — "Down, down," cried Mar, "your lances down I Bear back both friend and foe ! " Like reeds before the tenii^est's frown, That serried grove of lances brown At once lay levell'd low ; And closely shouldering side to side. The bristling ranks the onset bide. " We '11 quell the savage mountaineer As their Tinchel cows the game I They come as fleet as forest deer, We '11 drive them back as tame." XVIII ' Bearing before them, in their course, The relics of the archer force, Like wave with crest of sparkling foam. Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. Above the tide, each broadsword bright Was brandishing like beam of light. Each targe was dark below ; And with the ocean's mighty swing, When heaving to the tempest's wing, They hurl'd them on the foe. THE G U A R D - R O O M 169 I heard the lance's shivering crash, canto vi As when the whirlwind rends the ash ; r^^ I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, Guard- As if an hundred anvils rang ! ^°°"^ But Moray wheel'd his rearward rank Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank, — " My banner-man, advance ! I see," he cried, " their column shake. — Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake, Upon them with the lance ! " — The horsemen dash'd among the rout, As deer break through the broom ; Their steeds are stout, their swords are out. They soon make lightsome room. Clan- Alpine's best are backward borne — Where, where was Roderick then ! One blast upon his bugle-horn Were worth a thousand men. And refluent through the pass of fear The battle's tide was pour'd ; Vanish'd the Saxon's struggling spear, Vanish'd the mountain sword. As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep. Receives her roaring linn, As the dark caverns of the deep Suck the wild whirlpool in, So did the deep and darksome pass Devour the battle's mingled mass : None linger now uj)on the plain, Save those who ne'er shall fight again. lyo THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto VI The Guard- room XIX ' Now westward rolls the battle's din, That deep and doubling pass within. — Minstrel, away ! the work of fate Is bearing on : its issue wait. Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile Opens on Katrine's lake and isle.— Grey Benvenue I soon repass'd, Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. The sun is set ; — the clouds are met, The lowering scowl of heaven An inky hue of livid blue To the deep lake has given ; Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen Swept o'er the lake, then sunk agen. I heeded not the eddying surge. Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge. Mine ear but heard the sullen sound, Which like an earthquake shook the ground, And spoke the stern and desperate strife That parts not but with parting life. Seeming, to minstrel-ear, to toll The dirge of many a passing soul. Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen The martial flood disgorged agen. But not in mingled tide ; The plaided warriors of the North High on the mountain thunder forth And overhang its side ; While by the lake below appears The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears. THE GUARD-ROOM 171 At weary bay each shatter'd band, Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand ! Their banners stream like tatter'd sail, That flings its fragments to the gale. And broken arms and disarray Mark'd the fell havoc of the day. Canto VI The Guard- room XX ' Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, The Saxon stood in sullen trance. Till Moray pointed with his lance, And cried—" Behold yon isle !— See ! none are left to guard its strand, But women weak, that wring the hand : 'Tis there of yore the robber band Their booty wont to pile ; — My purse, with bonnet-piepes store, To him will swim a bow-shot o'er. And loose a shallop from the shore. Lightly we '11 tame the war- wolf then, Lords of his mate, and brood, and den.' Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung. On earth his casque and corslet rung. He plunged him in the wave ; — All saw the deed — the puriDose knew, And to their clamours Benvenue A mingled echo gave ; The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer. The helpless females scream for fear. And yells for rage the mountaineer. 172 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto VI The Guard- room Twas then, as by the outcry riven, Pour d down at once the lowering heaven ; A whirlwind 8wej)t Loch Katrine's breast, Her billows rear'd their snowy crest. Well for the swimmer swell'd they high. To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; For round him shower'd, 'mid rain and hail, The vengeful arrows of the Gael. — In vain.— He nears the isle— and lo ! His hand is on a shallop's bow. —Just then a flash of lightning came, It tinged the waves and strand with flame ;— I mark'd Duncraggan's widow'd dame, Behind an oak I saw her stand, A naked dirk gleam'd in her hand :— It darken'd, — but amid the moan Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — Another flash ! — the spearman floats A weltering corse beside the boats, And the stern Matron o'er him stood. Her hand and dagger streaming blood. XXI ' -' Revenge ! revenge ! " the Saxons cried. The Gaels' exulting shout replied. Despite the elemental rage, Again they hurried to engage ; But, ere they closed in desperate fight, Bloody with spurring came a knight, THE GUARD-ROOM 173 Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag, Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. Clarion and trumpet by his side Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, While, in the Monarch's name, afar A herald's voice forbade the war. For Bothwell's lord, and Roderick bold, Were both, he said, in captive hold.' —But here the lay made sudden stand. The harp escaped the minstrel's hand !— Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy How Roderick brook'd his minstrelsy : At first, the Chieftain, to the chime. With lifted hand, kept feeble time ; That motion ceased,— yet feeling strong Varied his look as changed the song ; At length no more his deaf en'd ear The minstrel melody can hear ; His face grows sharp,— his hands are clench'd, As if some pang his heart-strings wrench'd ; Set are his teeth, his fading eye Is sternly fixed on vacancy ; Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu !— Old Allan-bane look'd on aghast, While grim and still his spirit pass'd ; But when he saw that life was fled. He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead. Canto VI The Guard- room 174 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto VI The Guard- room XXII LAMENT ' And art thou cold and lowly laid, Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, Breadalbane's boast, Clan- Alpine's shade ! For thee shall none a requiem say ? — For thee, — who loved the minstrel's lay, For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, The shelter of her exiled line. E'en in this prison-house of thine, I '11 wail for Alpine's honour'd Pine ! ' What groans shall yonder valleys fill ! What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill ! What tears of burning rage shall thrill, When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, Thy fall before the race was won, Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! There breathes not clansman of thy line. But would have given his life for thine. — O woe for Alpine's honour'd Pine ! ' Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — The captive thrush may brook the cage, The prison d eagle dies for rage. Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! And, when its notes awake again. Even she, so long beloved in vain, Shall with my harp her voice combine. And mix her woe and tears with mine, To wail Clan- Alpine's honour'd Pine.' ^jke- u-IttSoco seeks THE GUARD-ROOM 175 XXIII Ellen, the while, with bursting heart. Remain d in lordly bower apart. Where play'd, with many-colour d gleams. Through storied pane the rising beams, In vain on gilded roof they fall. And lighten'd up a tapestried wall. And for her use a menial train A rich collation spread in vain. The banquet proud, the chamber gay, Scarce drew the curious glance astray ; Or, if she look'd, 'twas but to say. With better omen dawn'd the day In that lone isle, where waved on high The dun-deer's hide for canopy ; Where oft her noble father shared The simple meal her care prepared. While Lufra, crouching by her side, Her station claim'd with jealous pride, And Douglas, bent on woodland game. Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, Whose answer, oft at random made. The wandering of his thoughts betray'd. — Those who such simple joys have known. Are taught to prize them when they 're gone. But sudden, see, she lifts her head ! The window seeks with cautious tread. What distant music has the power To win her in this woeful hour ! 'Twas from a turret that o'erhung Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. Canto VI The Guard- room 176 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto VI The Guard- room XXIV LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN ' My hawk is tired of perch and hood, My idle greyhound loathes his food, My horse is weary of his stall, And I am sick of captive thrall. I wish I were as I have been. Hunting the hart in forest green, With bended bow and bloodhound free. For that 's the life is meet for me. I hate to learn the ebb of time. From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, Or mark it as the sunbeams cra^vl, Inch after inch, along the wall. The lark was wont my matins ring, The sable rook my vespers sing ; These towers, although a king s they be. Have not a hall of joy for me. No more at dawning morn I rise, And sun myself in Ellen's eyes. Drive the fleet deer the forest through, And homeward wend with evening dew, A blithesome welcome blithely meet, And lay my trophies at her feet. While fled the eve on wing of glee, — That life is lost to love and me ! ' XXV The heart-sick lay was hardly said. The list'ner had not turn'd her head, THE Gl^ARD-ROOM 177 It trickled still, the starting tear, Canto vi When light a footstep struck her ear, ^^ And Snowdoun s graceful Knight was near. Guard- She turn'd the hastier, lest again ^°°"^ The jDrisonei- should renew his strain. ' O welcome, brave Fitz- James ! ' she said ; ' How may an al most or j)han maid Pay the deep debt' ' O say not so ! To me no gratitude you owe. Not mine, alas ! the boon to give, And bid thy noble father live ; I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. No tyrant he, though ire and pride May lay his better mood aside. Come, Ellen, come ! — 'tis more than time, He holds his court at morning prime.' With beating heart, and bosom wrung. As to a brother s arm she clung. Gently he dried the falling tear. And gently whisper d hope and cheer ; Her faltering steps half led, half staid. Through gallery fair and high arcade, Till, at his touch, its wings of pride A portal arch unfolded wide. xxAa Within 'twas brilliant all and light, A thronging scene of figures bright : It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight, The Guard- room 78 THE LADY OF THE LAKE As when the settmg sun has given Ten thovisancl hues to summer even, And from their tissue, fancy frames Aerial knights and fairy dames. Still by Fitz- James her footing staid ; A few faint steps she forward made. Then slow her drooping head she raised, And fearful round the presence gazed. For him she sought, who own'd this state, The dreaded prince whose will was fate !— She gazed on many a princely port. Might well have ruled a royal court ; On many a splendid garb she gazed,— Then turn'd bewilder'd and amazed, For all stood bare ; and, in the room, Fitz- James alone wore cap and plume. To him each lady's look was lent ; On him each courtier's eye was bent ; Midst furs, and silks, and jewels sheen, He stood, in simple Lincoln green, The centre of the glittering ring,— And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King ! XXVII As wreath of snow, on mountain-breast, Slides from the rock that gave it rest. Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; No word her choking voice commands,— She show'd the ring— she clasp'd her hands. room THE GUARD-ROOM 179 ! not a moment could he brook, Canto vi The generous prince, that suppliant look ! r^^ Gently he raised her, — and, the while, Guard- Check'd with a glance the circle's smile ; Graceful, but grave, her brow he kiss'd, And bade her terrors be dismiss'd : — ' Yes, Fair ; the wandering poor Fitz-James The fealty of Scotland claims. To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring ; He will redeem his signet ring. Ask nought for Douglas ; — yester even, His prince and he have much forgiven : Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. We would not to the vulgar crowd Yield what they craved with clamour loud ; Calmly we heard and judged his cause. Our council aided, and our laws. 1 stanch'd thy father's death-feud stern. With stout De Vaux and Grey Glencairn ; And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own The friend and bulwark of our Throne.— But, lovely infidel, how now ? What clouds thy misbelieving brow ? Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; Thou must confirm this doubting maid,' XXVIII Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, And on his neck his daughter hung. THE LADY OF THE LAKE Canto VI The Guard- room The Monarch drank, that happy hour, The sweetest, holiest draught of Power,— When it can say, with godlike voice, Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! Yet would not James the general eye On Nature s raptures long should pry ; He stepp'd between—' Nay, Douglas, nay. Steal not my proselyte away ! The riddle 'tis my right to read, That brought this happy chance to speed.— Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray In life's more low but happier way, Tis under name which veils my power. Nor falsely veils— for Stirling's tower Of yore the name of Snowdoun clahns. And Normans call me James Fitz-James. Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, Thus learn to right the injured cause.'— Then, in a tone apart and low, — ' Ah, little trait'ress ! none must know What idle dream, what lighter thought. What vanity full dearly bought, Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew My spell-bound steiDS to Benvenue, In dangerous hour, and all but gave Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive ! '— Aloud he spoke—' Thou still dost hold That little talisman of gold. Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring— What seeks fair Ellen of the King?' THE GUARD-ROOM i8l XXIX Canto VI Full well the conscious maiden guess'd ~" He probed the weakness of her breast ; Guard But, with that consciousness, there came ^^^^ A lightening of her fears for Graeme, And more she deem'd the Monarch's ire Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire, Kebellious broadsword boldly drew ; And, to her generous feeling true, She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu.— ' Forbear thy suit :— The King of Kings Alone can stay life's parting wings ; I know his heart, I know his hand, Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand:— My fairest earldom would I give To bid Clan- Alpine's Chieftain live !— Hast thou no other boon to crave ? No other captive friend to save ? ' Blushing, she turn'd her from the King, And to the Douglas gave the ring. As if she wish'd her sire to speak The suit that stain'd her glowing cheek. ^ ' Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, And stubborn justice holds her course. Malcolm, come forth ! ' And, at the word, Down kneel'd the Graeme to Scotland's Lord. 'For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues. From thee may Vengeance claim her dues. Who, nurtured underneath our smile, Hast paid our care by treacherous wile. Canto VI The Guard- room THE LADY OF THE LAKE And sought, amid thy faithful clan, A refuge for an outlaw'd man, Dishonouring thus thy loyal name. — Fetters and warder for the Graeme I " — His chain of gold the King unstrung, The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, Then gently drew the glittering band. And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. Harp of the North, farewell I The hills grow dark. On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark. The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending. Resume thy wizard elm I the fountain lending, And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy ; Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending. With distant echo from the fold and lea. And herd-boy s evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp I Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, And little reck I of the censure sharp May idly cavil at an idle lay. Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, Through secret woes the world has never known, or\ ^lien's \\^^ THE GUARD -llOOM 183 When on the weary night dawnd wearier canto vi day, The And bitterer was the grief devour d alone. Guard- That I o'erKve such woes, Enchantress ! is thine '°°°^ own. Hark ! as my hngering footsteiDs slow retire, Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! 'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 'Tis now the brush of Fairy's fi-olic wing. Receding now, the dying numbers ring Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell, And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — And now, 'tis silent all I — Enchantress, fare thee well! NOTES Note I The heights of Uam- Var. — p. 4. Ua-var, as the name is proaounced, or more properly Uaighmor, is a mountain to the north-east of the village of Callander in Menteith, deriv- ing its name, which signifies the great den, or cavern, from a sort of retreat among the rocks on the south side, said, by tradition, to have been the abode of a giant. In latter times, it Avas the refuge of robbers and banditti, who have been only extirpated within these forty or hfty years. Strictly speaking, this stronghold is not a cave, as the name would imply, but a sort of small enclosure, or recess, surrounded with large rocks, and ojien above head. It may have been originally designed as a toil for deer, who might get in from the outside, but would find it difficult to return. This opinion prevails among the old sportsmen and deer-stalkers in tlie neighbourhood. Note II Tioo dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed. — p. 6. ' The hounds which we call Saint Hubert's hounds, are commonly all blacke, yet, neuertheless, their race is so mingled at these days, that we find them of all colours. These are the hounds which the abbots of St. Hubert haue always kept some of their race or kind, in honour or remem- brance of the saint, which was a hunter with S. Eustace. Whereupon we may conceiue that (by the grace of God) all good huntsmen shall follow them into paradise. To return vnto my former purpose, this kind of doggies hath beene dispersed through the countries of rienault, Lorayne, Flanders, and Burgone. They are mighty of body, neuertheless their leggies are low and short, likewise they are not swift, although thej' be very good of sent, hunting chases which are farre straggled, feiring neither water nor cold, and do more couet the chaces that smell, as foxes, bore, and such like, than other, because they find themselves neither of swift- ness nor courage to hunt and kill the chases that are lighter and swifter. The bloodhounds of this colour proue good, especially those that are cole blacke, but I made no great account to breede on them, or to keepe the kind, and yet 1 found a book which a hunter did dedicate to a prince of Lorayne, which seemed to loue hunting much, wherein was a blazon which the same hunter gaue to his bloodhound, called Souyllard, which was white : — " My name came first from holy Hubert's race, Souyllard my sire, a huuud of singular grace." 185 l86 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Whereupon we may presume tliat some of the kind prooue white some- times, but they are not of the kind of the Greffiers or Bouxes which we haue at these dayes.' — The noble Art of Venerie or Hunting, translated mid collected for the Use of all Sohlemen and Gentlemen. Lon Were. 6 Black. 7 Fully 8 Rouo-h. » His. 1*' Give, n The stem of a little oak-tree. 12 He hight, was called. 13 If. " Great, is He said. !« siay. i7 His. 18 My. 19 Little. 20 Lean, '-i Dwarf. -- Greater, taller-. 2^ Xen. NOTES Note VIII 191 . . . And still a harp unseen FilVd up the symphony betioeen. — p. 24. ; They ' (meaning the Higlilanders) ' delight much in musicke, but chiefly in harps and clairschoes of their own fashion. The strings of the clairschoes are made of brass wire, and the strings of the harps of sinews ; which strings they strike either with their nayles, growing long, or else with an instrument appointed for that use. They take great pleasure to decke their harps and clairschoes with silver and precious stones ; the poore ones that cannot attayne hereunto, decke them with christall. They sing verses prettily compound, contayning (for the most part) prayses of valiant men. There is not almost any other argument, whereof their rhymes intreat. They speak the ancient French language, altered a little.' ^—' The harp and clairschoes are now only heard of "in the High- lands in ancient song. At what period these instruments ceased to^e used, is not on record ; and tradition is silent on this head. But as Irish harpers occasionally visited the Highlands and Western Isles 'till lately, the harp might have been extant so late as the middle of the present century. Thus far we know, that from remote times down to the present, harpers were received as welcome guests, particularly in the Highlands of Scotland ; and so late as the latter end of the sixteenth century, as appears by the above quotation, the harp was in common use among the natives of the Western Isles. How it happened that the noisy and inharmonious bagpipe banished the soft and expres.sive harp, we can- not say ; but certain it is, that the bagpipe is now the only instrument that obtains universally in the Highland districts.'— Campbell's Journey through North Britain. London, 1808, 4to, 1. 175. Mr. Gunn, of Edinburgh, has lately published a curious Essay upon the Harp and Harp Music of the Highlands of Scotland. That the instrument was once in common use there, is most certain. Cleland numbers an acquaintance with it among the few accomplishments which his satire allows to the Highlanders : — ' In nothing they 're accounted sharp, Except in bagpipe or in harp.' Note IX Morns genial influence roused a minstrel grey. — j). 29. That Highland chieftains, to a late period, retained in their service the bard, as a I'amily officer, admits of very easy proof. The author of the Letters from the North of Scotland, an officer of Engineers, quartered at Inverness about 1720, who certainly cannot be deemed a favourable wit- ness, gives the following account of the office, and of a bard, whom he heard exercise his talent of recitation :— ' The bard is skilled in the genealogy of all the Higliland families, sometimes preceptor to the youno- laird, celebrates in Irish verse the original of the tribe, the famous warlike actions of the successive heads, and sings his own lyricks as an opiate to the chief, when indisposed for sleep ; but poets are not equally esteemed and honoured in all countries. I happened to be a witness of the dis- honour done to the muse, at the house of one of the chiefs, where two of these bards were set at a good distance, at the lower end of a long table with a parcel of Highlanders of no extraordinary appearance, over a cup 1 Vide ' Certaym Matters concealing the Realme of Scotland, etc., us they ivere Anno Do-ininil597. London, 1603.' -ito. 192 THE LADY OF THE LAKE of ale. Poor inspiration ! They were not asked to drink a glass of wine at our table, though the whole company consisted only of the great man, one of his near relations, and myself. After some little time, the chief ordered one of them to sing me a Highland song. The hard r^-adily obeyed, and with a hoarse voice, and in a tune of few various notes, began, as I was told, one of his own lyricks ; and when he had proceeded to the fourth or fifth stanza, I perceived, by the names of several persons, glens, and mountains, which I had known or heard of before, that it was an account of some clan battle. But in his going on, the chief (who piques himself upon his school-learning) at some particular passage bid him cease, and cryed out, "There 's nothing like that in Virgil or Homer." I bowed, and told him I believed so. This you may believe was very edifying and delightful.' — Letters, ii. 187. NoteX The Grceme. — p. 33. The ancient and powerful family of Graham (which, for metrical reasons, is here spelt after the Scottish pronunciation) held extensive possessions in the counties of Dumbarton and Stirling. Few families can boast of more historical renown, having claim to three of the most remarkalde characters in the Scottish annals. Sir John the Grseme, the I'aithful and undaunted partaker of the labours and jjatriotic warfare of Widlaee, fell in the unfortunate field of Falkirk, in 1298. The celebrated Marquis of Montrose, in whom De Retz saw realised his abstract idea of the heroes of antiquity, was the second of these worthies. And, notwithstanding the severity of his temper, and the rigour Avith w'hich he executed tlie oppres- sive mandates of the jtiinces whom he served, I do not hesitate to name as a third, John Grseme, of Claverhouse, Viscount of Dundee, whose heroic death, in the arms of victory, may be allowed to cancel the memory of his cruelty to the non-conformists, during the reigns of Charles 11. and James 11. Note XI This harp, which erst Saint Modan sway'd. — p. 34. I am not prepared to show that Saint Modan was a performer on the harp. It was, however, no unsaintly accomplishment ; for Saint Dunstan certainly did play upon that instrument, which, retaining, as was natural, a portion of the .sanctity attached to its master's character, announced future events by its spontaneous sound. ' But labouring once in these mechanic arts for a devout matrone that had sett him on work, his violl, that hung by him on the wall, of its own accord, without anie man's helpe, di.stinctly sounded this anthime : Gaxident in ccelis animce sanctorum qui Christi vestigia sunt secuti ; et quia pro eius amore sanguinem sunm fuderunt, ideo cum Christo gaudent mternum. Whereat all the compauie being much astonished, turned their eyes from beholding him working, to looke on that strange accident.' . . . 'Not long alter, manie of the court that hitherunto had borne a kind of fayned friendship towards him, began now greatly to envie at his progi'esse and ri.sing in goodnes, using manie crooked, backbiting nieanes to dift^ame his vertues with the black maskes of hypocrisie. And the better to authorize their calumnie they brought in this that happened in the violl, affirming it to have been done by art magick. What more? This wicked rumour encreased dayly, till the king and others of the nobilitie taking hould thereof, Dunstan grew odious in their sight. Therefore he resolued to leaue the court, and goe to NOTES 193 Elphegus, surnanu'd the Bauld, tlieu bishop of Winchester, who was his cozen. Which his eueniies imderstaiiding, they layd wayt for him in the way, and hauing throwne him oft' his horse, beate him, and dragged liim in the durt in the most miseralde manner, meaning to have slaine him, had not a companie of mastiue dogges, that came unlookit uppon them, defended and redeemed him from their crueltie. When with sorrow he was ashamed to see dogges more humane than they, and gluing thankes to Almightie God, he sensibly againe perceiued that the tunes of his violl had giuen liim a warning of future accidents.' — Flower of the Lives of the vioat renoioncd Saincts of England, Scotland, and Ireland, by the R, Father Hierome Porter. Doway, 1632. 4to. Tome I. p. 438. The same supernatural circumstance is alluded to Ijy the anonymous author of ' Gi'inj, the Collier of Croydon.' '. . . [Dnnstan'shar%) sovmU on the ivall.] ' Forest. Hark, hark, ray lords, the holy abbot's harp Sounds by itself so hanging on the wall ! ' Dunstan. Unhallow'd man, that scorn'st the sacred rede. Hark, how the testimony of my truth Sounds heavenly music with an angel's hand, To testify Dunstan's integrity, And prove thy active boast of no effect.' Note XII Fre Douglasses, to ruin driven, Were exiled from their native heaven. — p. 34. The downfall of the Douglasses of the house of Angus, during the reign of James v., is the event alluded to in the text. The Earl of Angus, "it will be remembered, had married the queen dowager, and availed himself of the right which he thus acquired, as well as of his extensive power, to retain the king in a sort of tutelage, which approached very near to captivity. Several open attempts were made to rescue James from this thraldom, with which he was well known to be deejjly disgusted ; but tlie valour of the Douglasses, and their allies, gave them the victory in every conflict. At length, the king, while residing at Falkland, contrived to escape by night out of his own court and palace, and rode full speed to Stirling Castle, where the governor, who was of the opposite faction, joyfully received him. Being thus at liberty, James speedily summoned around him such peers as lie knew to be most inimical to the domination of Angus, and laid his complaint before them, says Pitscottie, ' with great lamentations : showing to them how he was holden in subjection, thir years bygone, by the Earl of Angus, and his kin and friends, who oppressed the whole country, and spoiled it, under the pretence of justice and his authority ; and had slain many of his lieges, kinsmen, and friends, because they would have had it mended at their hands, and put him at liberty, as he ouglit to have been, at the counsel of his whole lords, and not have been subjected and corrected with no particular men, by the rest of his nobles : Therefore, said he, I desire, my lords, that I may be satisfied of the said earl, his kin, and friends ; for 1 avow, that Scotland shall not hold us both, while {i.e. till] I be revenged on him and his. ' The lords hearing the king's complaint and lamentation, and also the great rage, fury, and malice, that he bore toward the Earl of Angus, his kin, and friends, they concluded all, and thought it best that he should be summoned tounderly the law ; if he found no caution, nor yet compear himself, that he should be put to the horn, witli all Ids kin and friends, N 194 THE LADY OF THE LAKE so many as were contained in the letters. And farther, the lords ordained, by advice of his majesty, that his brother and friends should be summoned to find caution to underly the law within a certain day, or else be put to the horn. But the earl appeared not, nor none for him ; and so he was put to the horn, with all his kin and friends : so many as were contained in the summons, that compeared not, were banished, and holdeu traitors to the king.' Note XIII In Hohj-Rood a Knight he sleio. — p. 37. This was by no means an uncommon occurrence in the Court of Scot- land ; nay, the presence of the sovereign himself scarcely restrained the ferocious and inveterate feuds which were the perpetual source of blood- shed among the Scottish nobility. The following instance of the murder of Sir William Stuart of Ochiltree, called The Bloody, by the celebrated Francis, Earl of Bothwell, may be produced among many ; but as the offence given in the royal court will hardly bear a vernacular translation, I shall leave the story in Johnstone's Latin ,"^referring for farther particulars to the naked simplicity of Birrell's Diary, 30th July 1588. ' Mors improhi hominis non tarn ij)sa imvierita, quam pessimo exemplo in 2>uUicuin, /cede perpctraMi. Gidiehnus Stuartus Alkiltrius, Arani frater, naturd ac moribus, cujus sce2>ius memini, vulgo propter sitim sanguinis sanguinarius dictus, d Bothvelio, in Sander Crucis Begid, exardescente ird, mendacii prohro lacessitus, obsccenum osculum Uberius retorquebat ; Bothveliiis hanc contumelic/in tacitus iulit, sed ingent^tm irarum molem animo concepit. Utrinque postridie Edinhurgi conventimi, totidem numero comitibus o.rmatis, prcesidii causa, et acriter pugnatum est ; cceteris amicis et clientihus metu torx)entibus, aut vi absterritis, ipse Stuartus fortissime diviicat : tandem pxrusso gladio d Bothvelio, Scythicd feritate transfoditur, sine cujusquavi misericordid ; habuit itaque quern debuit exitum. Dignus erat Stuartus qui pateretur ; Bothvelius quifaceret. Vulgus sanguinem sanguine prcedicabat, et horum cruore innocuorum mani- bus egregie parentatum.' — Johnstoni Historia Rerum Britannicarum, ab anno 1572 ad annum 1628. Amstelodami, 1655, fol. p. 135. Note XIV The Douglas, like a stricken deer, Disoion'd by every noble peer. — p. 37. The exiled state of this powerful race is not exaggerated in this and subsequent passages. The hatred of James against the race of Douglas was so inveterate, that numerous as their allies were, and disregarded as the regal authority had usually been in similar cases, their nearest friends, even in the most remote parts of Scotland, durst not entertain them, unless under the strictest and closest disguise. James Douglas, son of the banished Earl of Angus, afterwards well known by the title of Earl of Morton, lurked, during the exile of his family, in the north of Scotland under the assumed name of James Innes, otherwise James the Griere {i.e. Reve or Bailiff). ' And as he bore the name,' says Godscroft, ' so did he also execute the office of a grieve or overseer of the lands and rents, the corn and cattle of him with whom he lived.' From the habits of frugality and observation which he acquired in his humble situation, the historian trace? that intimate acquaintance with popular character, which enabled him to rise so high in the state, and that honourable economy by which NOTES 195 he repaired aud established the shattered estates of Angus and Morton. — History of the House of Douglas, Edinburgh, 1743, vol. ii. p. 160. Note XV For Tine-man forged hy fairy lore. — p. 40. Archibald, the third Earl of Douglas, was so unfortunate in all his enterprises, that he acquired the epithet of Tine-man, because he tined, or lost, his followers in every battle which he fought. He was vanquished, as every reader must remember, in the bloody battle of Homildon-hill, near Wooler, where he himself lost an eye, and was made prisoner by Hotspur. He was no less unfortunate when allied with Percy, being wounded and taken at the battle of Shrewsbury. He was so unsuccessful in an attempt to besiege Koxburgh Castle, that it was called the Foul Raid, or disgraceful expedition. His ill fortune left him indeed at the battle of Beauge, in France ; but it was only to return with double emphasis at the subsequent action of Vernoil, the last and most unlucky of his encounters, in which he fell, with the flower of the Scottish chivalry, then serving as auxiliaries in France, and about two thousand common soldiers, a.d. 1424. Note XVI Did, self-imscahharded, foresliow The footstep of a secret foe. — p. 40. The ancient waiTiors, whose hope and confidence rested chiefly in their blades, were accustomed to deduce omens from them, especially from such as were supposed to have been fabricated by enchanted skill, of which we have various instances in the romances and legends of the time. The wonderful sword Skofnung, wielded by the celebrated Hrolf Kraka, was of this description. It was deposited in the tomb of the monarch at his death, and taken from thence by Skeggo, a celebrated pirate, who bestowed it upon his son-in-law, Kormak, with the following curious directions: '"The manner of using it will appear strange to you. A small bag is attached to it, wUich take heed not to violate. Let not the rays of the sun touch the upper part of the handle, nor unsheatirftT un- less thou art ready for battle. But when thou comest to the place of fight, go aside from the rest, grasp and extend the sword, and breathe upon it. Then a small worm will creep out of the handle : lower the handle, that he may move easily return into it." Kormak, after having received the sword, returned home to his mother. He showed the sword, and attempted to draw it, as unnecessarily as ineftectually, for he could not pluck it out of the sheath. His mother, Dalla, exclaimed, "Do not despise the counsel given to thee, my son." Kormak, however, repeat- ing his eiforts, pressed down the handle with his feet, and tore ott' the bag, when Skofnung emitted a hollow groan ; but still he could not unsheathe the sword. Kormak then went out with Bessus, whom he had challenged to fight with him, and drew apart at the place of combat. He sat down upon the ground, and ungirding the sword, which he bore aljove his vest-' ments, did not remember to shield the hilt from the rays of the sun. In vain he endeavoured to draw it, till he placed his foot against the hilt ; then the worm issued from it. But Kormak did not rightly handle the weapon, in consequence whereof good fortune deserted it. As he un- sheathed Skofnung, it emitted a hollow murmur.' — Bartholini de Causis (Jontemptce a Danis adhuc Gentilihtis Mortis, Libri Tres. Hafnice, 1689, 4to, p. 574. 196 THE LADY OF THE LAKE To tlie history of this sentient and prescient weapon, 1 beg leave to add, from memory, the following legend, for which I cannot produce any hetter authority. A young nobleman, of high hopes and fortune, chanced toiosehis way inthe town which he inhabited, the capital, if 1 mistake not of a German province. He had accidentally involved himself among the 'narrow and winding streets of a suburb, inhabited by the lowest order of the people, and an approaching thunder shower determined him to ask a short refuge in tlie most decent habitation that was near him. He knocked at the door, which was opened by a tall man, of a grisly and ferocious aspect, and sordid dress. The stranger was readily ushered to a chamber, where swords, scourges, and machines, which seemed to be implements of torture, were suspended on the wall. One of these swords dropped from its scabbard, as the nobleman, after a moment's hesitation, crossed the threshold. His host immediately stared at him with such a marked expression, that the young man coukl not help demanding his name and business, and the meaning of his looking at him so fixedly. 'I am ' answered the man, ' the public executioner of this city ; and the incident you have observed is a sure augury that I shall, in discharge of my duty, one day cut oft' your head with the weapon which has just now spontaneously unsheathed itself.' The nobleman lost no time in leaving his place of refuge ; but, engaging in some of the plots of the period, was shortly after decapitated by'tliat very man and instrument. Lord Lovat is said, by the author of the Letters from Scotland, to have affirmed, that a number'of swords that hung up in the hall of the mansion- house, leaped of themselves out of the scabbard at the instant he was born. ' The story passed current among his clan, but, like that of the story I have just quoted, proved an unfortunate oman.— Letters from Scotland, vol. ii. p. 214. Note XVII Those thrilling sounds, that call the might Of old Clan-Alinne to the fight. —T^. 42. The connoisseurs in pipe-music affect to discover in a well-composed pibroch, the imitative sounds of march, conflict, fiight, pursuit, and all the ' current of a heady fight.' To this opinion Dr. Beattie has given his suffrage, in the following elegant passage : — ' A pibroch is a species of tune peculiar, I think, to the Highlands and Western Isles of Scotland. It is performed on a bag-pipe, and differs totally from all other music. Its rhythm is so irregular, and its notes, especially in the quick movement, so mixed and huddled together, that a stranger finds it impossible to reconcile his ear to it, so as to perceive its modulation. Some of these pibrochs, being intended to represent a battle, begin with a grave motion, resen:bling a march ; then gradually quicken into the onset ; run off Avith noisy confusion, and turbulent rapidity, to imitate the confiict and pursuit ; then swell into a few flourishes of triumphant joy ; and perhaps close with the wild and slow wailings of a funeral procession.'— Essaij on Laughter and Ludicrous Composition, chap. iii. Note. Note XVIII Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe !—^. 44. Besides his ordinary name and surname, which were chiefly used in the intercourse with the Lowlands, every Highland chief had an epithet expressive of his patriarchal dignity as head of the clan, and which was NOTES 197 common to all his predecessors and successors, as Pliaraoli tu the kings of Egypt, or Arsaces to those of Parthia. This name was usually a patronymic, expressive of his descent from the founder of the family. Thus the Duke of Argyle is called IMacCallum More, or the son of Colin the Great. Sometimes, however, it is derived from armorial distinctions, or the memory of some great feat ; thus Lord Seaforth, as chief of the Mackeuzies, or Clan-Kennet, bears the epithet of Caber-fae, or Buck's Head, as representative of Colin Fitzgerald, founder of the family, who saved the Scottish king when endangered by a stag. But besides this title, which belonged to liis office and dignity, the chieftain had usually another peculiar to himself, which distinguished him from the chieftains of the same race. This was sometimes derived from complexion, as dhit or my ; sometimes from size, as heg or more ; at other times, from some peculiar exploit, or from some peculiarity of haljit or appearance. Tlie line of the text therefore signifies, Black Roderick, the descendant of Alpine. The song itself is intended as an imitation of Wiejorrajus, or boat-songs, of the Highlanders, which were usually composed in honour of a favourite chief. They are so adapted as to keep time with the sweep of tlie oars, and it is easy to distinguish between those intended to be sung to the oars of a galley, where the stroke is lengthened and doubled, as it were, and those which were timed to the rowers of an ordinary boat. Note XIX The best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. — p. 44. The Lennox, as the district is called, which encircles the lower extremity of Loch Lomond, was peculiarly exposed to the incursions of the moun- taineers, who inhabited the inaccessible fastnesses at the upper end of the lake, and the neighbouring district of Loch Katrine. These were often marked by circumstances of great ferocity, of which the noted conflict of Glen-fruin is a celebrated instance. This was a clan battle, in which the Macgregors, headed by Allaster Macgregor, chief of the clan, encountered the sept of Colquhouns, commanded by Sir Humphrey Colquhoun of Luss. It is on all hands allowed that the action was desperately fought, and that the Colquhouns were defeated with slaughter, leaving two hundred of their name dead upon the field. But popular tradition has added other horrors to the tale. It is said that Sir Humphrey Colquhoun, who was on horseback, escaped to the castle of Benechra, or Banochar, and was next day dragged out and murdered by the victorious Macgregors in cold blood. Buchanan of Auchmar, however, speaks of his slaughter as a subsequent event, and as perpetrated liy the Macfarlanes. Again, it is reported, that tlie Macgregors murdered a number of youths, whom report of the intended battle had brought to be spectators, and whom the Colquhouns, anxious for their safety, had shut up in a barn to be out of danger. One account of the Macgregors denies this circumstance entirely, another ascribes it to the savage and bloodthirsty disposition of a single individual, the bastard brother of the Laird of Macgregor, who amused himself with this second massacre of the innocents, in express disobedi- ence to the chief, by whom he was left their guardian during the pursuit of the Colquhouns. It is added that Macgregor bitterly lamented this atrocious action, and prophesied the ruin which it must bring upon their ancient clan. The following account of the conflict, which is indeed drawn up by a friend of the Clan-Gregor, is altogether silent on the 198 THE LADY OF THE LAKE murder of the youths. 'In the spring of the year 1602, there happened great dissensions and troubles between the Laird of Luss, chief of the Colquhouus, and Alexander, Laird of Macgregor. The original of these quarrels proceeded from injuries and provocations mutually given and received, not long before. Macgregor, however, wanting to have them ended in friendly conferences, marched at the head of two hundred of his clan to Leven, which borders on Luss, his country, with a view of settling matters by the mediation of friends : but Luss had no such intentions, and projected his measures with a different view ; for he privately drew together a body of 300 horse and 500 foot, composed partly of his own clan and their followers, and partly of the Buchanans, his neighbours, and resolved to cut off Macgregor and his party to a man, in case the issue of the conference did not answer his inclination. But matters fell other- wise than he expected ; and though Macgregor had previous information of his insidious design, yet, dissembling his resentment, he kept the appointment, and parted good friends in appearance. ' No sooner was he gone than Luss, thinking to surprise him and his party in full security, and without any dread or apprehension of his treachery, followed with all speed, and came up with him at a place called Glenfroon, Macgregor, upon the alarm, divided his men into two parties, the greater part whereof he commanded himself, and the other he com- mitted to the care of his brother John, who, by his orders, led them about another way, and attacked the Colquhouns in flank. Here it was fought with great bravery on both sides for a considerable time ; and, notwithstanding the vast disproportion of numbers, Macgregor, in the end, obtained an absolute victory. So great was the rout, that 2U0 of the Colquhouns were left dead upon the spot, most of the leading men were killed, and a multitude of prisoners taken. But what seemed most surprising and incredible in this defeat was, that none of the Mac- gregors Avere missing, except John, the Laird's brother, and one common fellow, though indeed many of them were wounded.' — Professor Ross's History of the Family of Sutherland, 1631. The consequences of the battle of Glen-fruin were very calamitous to the family of Macgregor, who had already been considered as an unruly clan. The widows of the slain Colquhouns, sixty, it is said, in number, appeared in doleful procession before the king at Stirling, each riding upon a white palfrey, and bearing in her hand the bloody shirt of her husband displayed upon a pike. James vi. was so much moved by the complaints of this 'choir of mourning dames,' that he let loose his vengeance against the Macgregors, without either bounds or moderation. The very name of the clan was proscribed, and those by whom it had been borne were given up to sword and lire, and absolutely hunted down by blood- hounds like wild beasts. Argyle and the Campbells, on the one hand. Montrose, with the Grahames and Buclianans, on the other, are said to have been the chief instruments in suppressing this devoted clan. The Laird of Macgregor surrendered to the former, on condition that he would take him out of Scottish ground. But, to use Birrel's expression, lie kept ' a Highlandman's promise ' ; and although he fulfilled his word to the letter, by carrying him as far as Berwick, he afterwards brought him back to Edinburgh, where he was executed with eighteen of his clan.— Birrel's Diary, 2nd Oct. 1603. The clan Gregor, being thus driven to utter despair, seem to have renounced the laws from the benefit of which they were excluded, and their depredations produced new acts of council, confirming the severity of their proscription, which had only the effect of rendering them still more united and desperate. It is a most extra- NOTES 199 ordinary proof of the ardeut and invincible spirit of clanship, that, not- withstanding the repeated proscriptions providently ordained by the legislature ' for the timeous preventing the disorders and oppression that may fall out by the said name and clan of Macgregors, and their followers,' they were, in 1715 and 1745, a potent clan, and continue to subsist as a distinct and numerous race. Note XX . . . The King's vindictive pride Boasts to have tamed the Border-side. — p. 51. In 1529, James v. made a convention at Edinburgh, for the purpose of considering the best mode of quelling the Border robbers, who, during the license of his minority, and the troubles which followed, had com- mitted many exorbitances. Accordingly, he assembled a flying army of ten thousand men, consisting of his principal nobility and their followers, who were directed to bring their hawks and dogs with them, that the monarch might refresh himself with sport during the intervals of military execution. With this array he swept through Ettrick Forest, where he hanged, over the gate of his own castle. Piers Cockburn of Henderland, who had prepared, according to tradition, a feast for his reception. He caused Adam Scott of Tushielaw also to be executed, who was distinguished by the title of King of the Border. But the most noted victim of justice, during that expedition, was John Armstrong of Gilnockie, famous in Scottish song, who, conhding in his own supposed innocence, met the King, with a retinue of thirty-six persons, all of whom were hanged at Carlenrig, near the source of the Teviot. The eft'ect of this severity was such that, as the vulgar expressed it, 'the rush-bush kept the cow,' and ' thereafter was great peace and rest a long time, wherethrough the King had great protit ; for he had ten thousand sheep going in the Ettrick Forest in keeping by Andrew Bell, who made the King as good count of them as they had gone in the bounds of Fife.'— Pitscottie's History, p. 153. Note XXI What grace for Highland chiefs, judge ye By fate of Border chivalry, —p. 52. James was, in fact, equally attentive to restrain rapine and feudal oppression in every part of his dominions. 'The king past to the Isles, and there held justice courts, and punished both thief and traitor according to their demerit. And also he caused great men to show their holdings, wherethrough he found many of the said lands in non-entry ; the which he confiscate and brought home to his own use, and afterwards annexed them to the crown, as ye shall hear. Syne brought many of the great men of the isles captive with him, such as Mudyart, M'Connel, M'Loyd of the Lewes, M'Neil, M'Lane, M'lntosh, John Mudyart, M'Kay, M'Kenzie, with many other that I cannot rehearse at this time. Some of them he put in ward and some in court, and from some he took pledges for good rule in time coming. So he brought the isles both north and south in good rule and peace ; wherefore he had great protit, service, and obedience of people a long time thereafter ; and as long as lie had the heads of the country in subjection, they lived in great peace and rest, and there was great riches and policy by the King's justice.'— Pitscottik, p. 152. 200 THE LADY OF THE LAKE Note XXII . . . Pity 'tioere Such cheek should feel the midnight air ! — p. 58. Hardihood was in every respect so essential to the character of a Highlander, that the reproach of effeminacy was the most bitter which could be thrown upon him. Yet it was sometimes hazarded on what we might presume to think slight grounds. It is reported of old Sir Ewan Cameron of Lochiel, when upwards of seventy, that he was surprised by night on a hunting or military expedition. He wrapped him in his plaid, and lay contentedly down ujion the snow, with which the ground happened to be covered. Among his attendants, wdio were preparing to take their rest in the same manner, he observed that one of his grandsons, for his better accommodation, had rolled a large snow-ball, and placed it below his head. The wrath of the ancient chief was awakened by a symptom of what he conceived to be degenerate luxury. ' Out upon thee,' said he, kicking the frozen bolster from the head which it sup- ported, ' art thou so effeminate as to need a pillow ? ' The officer of Engineers, whose curious letters from the Highlands have been more than once quoted, tells a similar story of Maedonald of Keppoch, and subjoins the following remarks : — ' This and many other stories are romantick ; but there is one thing, that at first thought might seem very romantick, of which I have been credibly assured, that when the Highlanders are con- strained to lie among the hills, in cold, dry, windy weather, they sometimes soak the plaid in some river or burn {i.e. brook), and then holding up a corner of it a little above their heads, they turn themselves round and round, till they are enveloped by the whole mantle. They then lay them- selves doAvn on the heath upon the leeward side of some hill, where the wet and the warmth of their bodies make a steam, like that of a boiling kettle. The wet, they say, keeps them warm by thickening the stuff, and keeping the wind from penetrating. I must confess I should have been apt to question this fact, had I not frequently seen them wet from morn- ing to night, and even at the beginning of the rain, not so much as stir a few yards to shelter, but continue in it without necessity, till they were, as we say, wet through and through. And that is soon effected by the looseness and spunginess of the plaiding ; but the bonnet is frecpiently taken off, and wrung like a dish-clout, and then put on again. They have been accustomed from their infancy to be often wet, and to take the water like spaniels, and this is become a second nature, and can scarcely be called a hardship to them, insomuch that I used to say, they seem to be of the duck kind, and to love water as well. Though I never saw this preparation for sleep in windy weather, yet, setting out early in a morning from one of the huts, I have seen the marks of their lodging, where the ground has been free from rime or snow, which remained all round the spot where they had Isxm.'' —Letters from Scotland, Loud., 1754, 8vo, ii. p. 108. Note XXIII . . . His henchman came. — p. 58. 'This officer is a sort of secretary, and is to be ready, upon all occasions, to venture his life in defence of his master; and at drinking-bouts he stands behind his seat, at his haunch, from whence his title is derived, NOTES 20I aud watches the couversatiou, to see if any one offends his patron. An English officer, being in company with a certain chieftain, and several other Highland gentlemen, near Killichumen, had an argument with the great man ; and both l^eing well warmed with usky, at last the dispute grew very hot. A youth who was henchman, not understanding one word of English, imagined his chief was insulted, and thereupon drew his pistol from his side, and snapped it at the officer's head : but the pistol missed fire, otherwise it is more than probable he might have suffered death from the hand of that little vermin. But it is very disagi-eeable to an Englishman over a bottle, with the Highlanders, to see every one of them have his gilly, that is, his servant, standing behind him all the while, let what will be the subject of conversation.' — Letters from Scotland, ii. 159. Note XXIV And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round.— ip. 61, Wlien a chieftain designed to summon his clan, upon any sudden or important emergency, he slew a goat, and making a cross of any light wood, seared its extremities in the fire, and extinguished them in the blood of the animal. This was called the Fiery Cross, also Crean Tarigh, or the Cross of Shame, because disobedience to wliat the symbol implied inferred infamy. It was delivered to a swift and trusty messenger, who ran full speed with it to the next hamlet, where he presented it to tlie principal person, with a single word, implying the place of rendezvous. He who received the symbol was bound to send it forward, with equal despatch, to the next village ; and thus it passed witli incredible celerity through all the district which owed allegiance to the chief, and also among his allies aud neighbours, if the danger was common to them. At sight of the Fiery Cross, every man, from sixteen years old to sixty, capable of bearing arms, was obliged instantly to repair, in his best arms and accoutrements, to the place of rendezvous. He who failed to appear suffered the extremities of fire and sword, which were emblematically denounced to the disobedient by the bloody and l^urnt marks upon this warlike signal. During the civil war of 1745-6, the Fiery Cross often made its circuit ; and upon one occasion it passed tlirough the whole dis- trict of Breadalbane, a tract of thirty-two miles, in three hours. The late Alexander Stewart, Esq. of Invernahyle, described to me his having sent round the Fiery Cross through tlie district of Appine, during the same commotion. The coast was threatened by a descent from two English frigates, and the flower of the young men w^ere with the army of Prince Charles Edward, tlien in England ; yet the summons was so efiectual, that even old age and childhood obeyed it ; and a force was collected in a few hours, so numerous and so enthusiastic, that all attempt at the intended diversion upon tlie country of the absent warriors was in prudence aban- doned, as desperate. This practice, like some others, is common to the Highlanders with the ancient Scandinavians, as will appear by the following extract from Olaus Magnus : — ' When the enemy is upon the sea-coast, or witliin the limits of northern kingdomes, then presently, by the command of the principal governours, with the counsel and consent of the old soldiers, who are notably skilled in such like business, a staff of three hands' length, in the common sight of them all, is carried, by the speedy running of some active young man, unto that village or city, with this command — that on the 3. 4, or 8. day. 202 THE LADY OF THE LAKE one, two, or three, or else ever}' man in particular, from fifteen years old, shall come with his arms and expenses for ten or twenty days, upon pain that his or their houses shall be burnt (which is intimated by the burning of the staff), or else the master to be hanged (which is signified by the cord tied to it), to appear speedily on such a bank, or field, or valley, to hear the cause he is called, and to hear orders from the said provincial governours what he shall do. Wherefore that messenger, swifter than any post or waggon, having done his commission, comes slowly back again, bringing a token with him that he hath done all legally ; and every moment one or another runs to every village, and tells those places what they must do.' . . . ' The messengers, therefore, of the footmen, that are to give warning to the people to meet for the battail, run fiercely and swiftly ; for no snow, no rain, nor heat can stop them, nor night hold them : but they Avill soon run the race they undertake. The first messenger tells it to the next village, and that to the next ; and so the hubbub runs all over till they all know it in that stiff or territory, where, when, and wherefore they must meet.'— Olaus Mag>^us, Histortj of the Goths, euglished by J. S.' Lond., 1658, book iv. chap. 3, 4. Note XXV Thai monk, of savage form and face. — p. 63. The state of religion in the middle ages afforded considerable facilities for those whose mode of life excluded them from regular worship, to secure, nevertheless, the ghostly assistance of confessors, perfectly Avilling to adapt the nature of their doctrine to the necessities and peculiar cir- cumstances of their flock. Robin Hood, it is well known, had his cele- brated domestic chaplain, Friar Tuck. And that same curtal friar was probably matched in manners and appearance by the ghostly fathers of the Tynedale robbers, who are thus described in an excommunication ful- minated against their patrons by Richard Fox, Bishop of Durham, tempore Henrici viii. ' We have further understood, that there are many chaplains in the said territories of Tynedale and Redesdale, Avho are public and open maintainers of concubinage, irregular, suspended, excom- municated, and interdicted persons, and withal so utterly ignorant of letters, that it has been found by those who objected this to them, that there were some Avho, liaving celebrated mass for ten years, were still unable to read the sacramental service. We have also understood there are persons among them who, although not ordained, do take upon them the offices of priesthood, and in contempt of God, celebrate the divine and sacred rites, and administer the sacraments, not only in sacred and dedi- cated places, but in those which are prophane and interdicted, and most wretchedlv ruinous, they themselves being attired in ragged, torn, and most filthy vestments, altogether unfit to be used in divine, or even in temporal ottices. The which said chaplains do administer sacraments and sacramental rites to the aforesaid manifest and infamous thieves, robbers, depredators, receivers of stolen goods, and plunderers, and that without restitution, or intention to restore, as evinced by the act ; and do also openly admit them to the rites of ecclesiastical sepulchre, without exact- ing security for restitution, although they are prohibited from doing so by the sacred canons, as well as by the institutes of the saints and fathers. All which infers the heavy peril of their own souls, and is a pernicious example to the other believers in Christ, as well as no slight, NOTES 203 but an aggravated injury, to the numbers despoiled and plundered of their goods, gear, herds, and chattels. '1 To tliis lively and picturesque description of the confessors and church- men of predatory tribes, there may be added some curious particulars respecting the priests attached to the several septs of native Irish, during the reign "of Queen Elizabeth. These friars had indeed to plead, that the incursions, which they not only pardoned, but even encouraged, were made upon those hostile to them, as well in religion as from national antipathy ; but by Protestant writers they are uniformly alleged to be the chief instruments of Irish insurrection, the very well-spring of all rebellion towards the English government. Lithgow, the Scottish traveller, declares the Irish wood-kerne, or predatory tribes, to be but the hounds of their hunting priests, who directed their incursions by then- pleasure, partly for sustenance, partly to gratify animosity, partly to foment general division, and always for the better security and easier domination of the friars.2 Derrick, the liveliness and minuteness of whose descriptions may frequently apologise for his doggerel verses, after de- scribing an Irish feast, and the encouragement given, by the songs of the bards, to its termination in an incursion upon the parts of the country more Immediately under the dominion of the English, records the no less powerful arguments used by the friar to excite their animosity :— ' And more t' augment the flame, and rancour of their harte, The frier, of his counsells vile, to rebelles doth imparte. Affirming that it is an almose deede to God, To make the English subjectes taste the Irish rebells' rodde. To spoile, to kill, to burne, this frier's counsell is ; And for the doing of the same he warrantes lieavenlie bUsse. He tells a holie tale ; the white lie tournes to blacke ; And through tlie pardons in his male, he workes a knavishe knacks.' The wreckful invasion of a part of the English pale is then described with some spirit ; the burning of houses, driving off cattle, and all pertain- ing to such predatory inroads, are illustrated by a rude cut. The defeat of the Irish, by a party of English soldiers from the next garrison, is then commemorated, and in like manner adorned with an engraving, m which the friar is exhibited mourning over the slain chieftain ; or, as the rubric expresses it, ' The frier then, that treacherous knave, with ough ough-hone lament, To see his cousin Devill's-son to have so foul event.' The matter is handled at great length in the text, of Avhich the follow- ing verses are more than sufficient sample : — 1 The Monition against the Robbers of Tynedale and Redesdale, with which I was favoured by my friend, Mr. Surtces of Mainsforth, may be found in tlie original Latin, in the Appendix to the Introduction to the Border Minstrelsy, No. VII., vol. i. p. 274. New Edition. '- Lithgow's Tra.vels, hrst edit. p. 431. 204 THE LADY OF THE LAKE ' TIh' flier seyng this, laineutes that lucklesse parte, And curseth to the pitte of hell the death man's sturdy harte : Yet for to quight them with the frier taketh paine, For all the synnes that ere he did remission to obtaine. And therefore serves his booke, the candell and the bell ; But thinke you that such apishe toies bring damned souls from hell? It 'longs not to my parte infernall things to kuowe ; But I believe till later dale, thei rise not from belowe. Yet hope that friers give to this rebellious rout, If that their souls sliould chaunce in hell, to bring them quicklie out, Ddeth make them lead such lives, as neither God nor man. Without revenge for their desartes, permitte or suffer can. Thus friers are the cause, the fountain, and the spring. Of luirleburles in this lande, of eche unhappie thing. Thei cause them to rebell against their soveraigne queue. And through rebellion often tymes, their lives doe vani.she clene. So as by friers meanes in wliom all follie swimme, The Irishe karne doe often lose the life, with hedde and limme.'i As the IrLsli tril)e.s, and those of the Scottish Highlanders, are much more intimately allied, by language, manners, dress, and customs, than the antiquaries of either county have been willing to admit, I flatter myself I have here produced a strong warrant for the character sketched in the text. The following picture, though of a different kind, serves to establish the existence of ascetic religionists, to a comparatively late period, in the Highlands and Western Isles. There is a great deal of simplicity in the description, for which, as for much similar information, I am obliged to Dr. John Martin, who visited the Hebrides at the sugges- tion of Sir Roliert Sibbald, a Scottish antiquarian of eminence, and early in the eighteenth century published a description of them, which procured him admi.ssion into the Royal Society. He died in London about 1719. His work is a strange mixture of learning, observation, and gross credulity. ' I remember,' says this author, ' I have seen an old lay-capuchin here (in the island of Benbecula), called in their language Brahir-hocht, that is, Poor Brother ; which is literally true ; for he answers this character, having nothing but what is given him ; he holds himself fully satisfied with food and rayment, and'lives in as great simplicity as any of his order ; his diet is very mean, and he drinks only fair Avater ; his habi!: is 1 This curious picture of Ireland was inserted by the author in the republication of Somers' Tracts, vol. i., in which the plates have been also inserted from the only impressions known to exist, belonging to the copy in the Advocates' Library. See Somers' Tracts, vol. i. p. 591, 594. NOTES 205 no less mortifying than that of his brethren elsewhere ; he wears a short coat, which conies no farther than his middle, with narrow sleeves like a waistcoat ; he wears a plad above it, girt about tlie middle, which'reaches to his knee; the plad is fastened on his breast with a wooden pin, his neck bare, and his feet often so too ; he Avears a hat for ornament, and the string about it is a bit of a fisher's line, made of horse-hair. This plad he wears instead of a gown worn by tliose of his order in other countries. I told him he wanted the flaxen girdle that men of his order usually wear : he answered me, that he wore a leathern one, which was the same thing. Upon the matter, if he is spoke to when at meat, he answers again ; which is contrary to the custom of his order. This poor man frequently diverts himself with angling of trouts ; he lies upon straw, and has no bell (as others have) to call him to his devotions, but only his conscience, as he told me,' — Martin's Description of the Western Hiyhlands, p. 82. Note XXVI Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. — p. 64. The legend which follows is not of the author's invention. It is possible he may differ from modern critics, in supposing that the records of human superstition, if peculiar to, and characteristic of, the country in winch the scene is laid, are a legitimate subject of poetry. He gives, however, a ready assent to the narrower proposition which condemns all attempts of an irregular and disordered fancy to excite terror, by accumulating a train of fantastic and incoherent horrors, wdiether borrowed from all countries, and patched upon a narrative belonging to one which knew them not, or derived from the author's own imagination. In the present case, there- fore, I appeal to the record which I have transcribed, with the variation of a very few words, from the geographical collections made by the Laird of Macfarlane. I know not whether it be necessary to remark, that the mis- cellaneous concourse of youths and maidens on the night and on the spot where the miracle is said to have taken place, might, even in a credulous age, have somewhat diminished the wonder which accompanied the con- cejjtion of Gilli-Doir-Magrevollich. ' There is hot two myles from Inverloghie, the church of Kilmalee, in Loghyeld. In ancient tyrnes there was ane church builded upon ane hill, which was above this church, which doeth now stand in this tonne ; and ancient men doeth say, that there was a battell foughten on ane litle hill not the tenth part of a myle from this church, be certaine men which they did not know what they were. And long tyme thereafter, certane herds of that tonne, and of the next tonne, called Unnatt, both wenches and youthes, did on a tyme conveen with others on that hill ; and the day being somewhat cold, did gather the bones of the dead men that were slayne long tyme before in that place, and did make a fire to warm them. At last they did all remove from the fire, except one maid or wench, which was verie cold, and she did remaine there for a space. She being quyetlie her alone, without anie other companie, took up her cloaths above her knees, or thereby, to warm her; a wind did come and caste the ashes upon her, and she was conceived of ane man chyld. Severall tymes thereafter she was verie sick, and at last she was knowne to be with chyld. And then her parents did ask at her the matter heiroff, which the wench could not weal answer which way to satisfie them. At last she resolved them with ane answer. As fortune fell upon her concei'ning this marvellous miracle, the chyld being born, his name was called Gili-dulr Muylirecullich, that is to say, the Black Child, ^'^on to the Bones. So called, his grandfather 2o6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE sent liim to «^chooll, and so he was a good schollar, and godlie. He did build this church which doeth now stand in Lochyeld, called Kilmalie.'— Macfarlane, %d siqjra, ii. 188. Note XXVII , . . The virgin snood. — p, 65. The snood, or riband, with which a Scottish lass braided her hair, had an emblematical signification, and applied to her maiden character. It was exchanged for the curch, toy, or coif, when she passed by marriage into the matron state. But if the damsel was so unfortunate as to lose pretentions to the name of maiden, without gaining a right to that of matron, she was neither permitted to use the snood, nor advanced to the graver dignity of the curch. In old Scottish songs there occur many sly allusions to such misfortune ; as in the old words to the popular tune of ' Ower the muir amang the heather.' ' Down amang the broom, the broom, Down amang the broom, my dearie, The lassie lost her silken snood, That gard her greet till she was wearie.' Note XXVIII The desert gave him visions wild, Such as might suit the Spectre's child. — p. 66. In adopting the legend concerning the birth of the Founder of the Church of Kilmalie, the author has endeavoured to trace the effects which such a belief was likely to produce, in a barbarous age, on the person to whom it related, it seems likely that he must have Ijecome a fanatic or an impostor, or that mixture of both which forms a more frequent character than either of them, as existing separately. In truth, mad persons are frequently more anxious to impress upon others a faith in their visions, than they are themselves confirmed in their reality ; as, on the other hand, it is difficult for the most cool-headed impostor lorig to personate an enthusiast, without in some degree believing what he is so eager to have believed. It was a natural attribute of such a character as the supposed hermit, that he should credit the numerous superstitions with which the minds of ordinary Highlanders are almost always imbued. A few of these are slightly alluded to in this stanza. The River Demon, or River-horse, for it is that form which he commonly assumes, is the Kelpy of the Lowlands, an evil and malicious spirit, delighting to fore- bode and to witness calamity. He frequents most Highland lakes and rivers ; and one of his most memorable exploits was performed upon the banks of Loch Vennachar, in the very district which forms the scene of our action : it consisted in the destruction of a funeral procession, with all its attendants. The 'noon-tide hag,' called in Gaelic Olas-lich, a tall, emaciated, gigantic female figure, is supposed in particular to haunt the district of Knoidart. A goblin dressed in antique armour, and having one hand covered with blood, called, from that circumstance, Lham-dearg, or Red-hand, is a tenant of the forests of Glenmore and Rothiemurcus. Other spirits of the desert, all frightful in shape and malignant in dis- position, are believed to frequent difterent mountains and glens of the Highlands, where any unusual appearance, produced by mist, or the strange lights that are sometimes thrown upon particular objects, never fails to present an apparition to the imagination of the solitary and melancholy mountaineer. NOTES 207 Note XXIX The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream. — p. 67. Most great families in the Highlands were supposed to have a tutelar, or rather a domestic spirit, attached to them, who took an interest in their prosperity, and intimated, by its wailings, any approaching disaster. That of Grant of Grant was called May MouUach, and appeared in the form of a girl, who had her arm covered with hair. Grant of Rothiemur- cus had an attendant called Bodach-an-dun, or the Ghost of the Hill], and many other examples might be mentioned. The Ban-Schie implies a female Fairy, whose lamentations were often supposed to precede the death of a chieftain of particular families. When she is visible, it is in the form of an old woman, with a blue mantle and streaming hair. A superstition of the same kind is, I believe, universally received by the inferior ranks of the native Irish. The death of the head of a Highland family is also sometimes supposed to be announced by a chain of lights of different colours, called Dr'eug, or death of the Druid. The direction which it takes, marks the place of the funeral. [See the Essay on Fairy Superstitions in the Border Minstrelsy.] Note XXX Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast, Of charging steeds, careering fast A long Beriharroiv' s shingly side,^ Where mortal horseman ne^er might ride. — p. 67. A presage of the kind alluded to in the text, is still believed to announce death to the ancient Highland family of M'Lean of Lochbuy. The spirit of an ancestor slain in battle is heard to gallop along a stony bank, and then to ride thrice around the family residence, ringing his fairy bridle, and thus intimating the approaching calamity. How easily the eye as Avell as the ear may be deceived upon such occasions, is evident from the stories of armies in the air, and other spectral phenomena with which history abounds. Such an apparition is said to have been witnessed upon the side of Southfell mountain, between Penrith and Keswick, upon the 2.3rd June 1744, by two persons, William Lancaster of Blakehills, and Daniel Stricket, his servant, whose attestation to the fact, with a full account of the apparition, dated the 21st July 1745, is printed in Clarke's Survey of the Lakes. The apparition consisted of several troops of horse moving in regular order, with a steady rapid motion, making a curved sweep around the fell, and seeming to the spectators to disappear over the ridge of the mountain. Many persons witnessed this phenomenon, and observed the last, or last but one, of the supposed troop, occasionally leave his rank, and pass, at a gallop, to the front, when he resumed the same steady pace. The curious appearance, making the necessary allowance for imagination, maybe perhaps sufficiently accounted for by optical deception. — Survey of the Lakes, p. 25. Supernatural intimations of approaching fate are not, I believe, confined to Highland families. Howel mentions having seen, at a lapidary's, in 1632, a monumental stone, prepared for four persons of the name of Oxen- ham, before the death of each of whom, the inscription stated a white bird to have appeared and fluttered around the bed, while the patient was in the last agony. Familiar Letters, edit. 1726, 247. Glanville mentions one family, the members of which received this solemn sign l^y music, the sound of which floated from the family residence, and seemed to die in a. 2o8 THE LADY OF THE LAKE neighbouringwood ; another, that of Captain Wood of Banipton, to whom the signal was given by knocking. But the most remarkable instance of the kind occurs in the MS. Memoirs of Ladj' Fanshaw, so exemplary for her con- jugal affection. Her husband, Sir Eichard, and she, chanced, during their abode in Ireland, to visit a friend, the head of a sept, who resided in his ancient baronial castle, surrounded with a moat. At midnight she was awakened by a ghastly and supernatural scream, and, looking out of bed, beheld, by the moonlight, a female face and part of the form, hovering at the window. The distance from the ground, as well as the circumstance of the moat, excluded the possilulity that what she beheld was of this world. The face was that of a young and rather handsome woman, but pale ; and the hair, wliich was reddish, was loose and dishevelled. The dress, which Lady Fanshaw's terror did not prevent her remarking accurately, was that of the ancient Irish. This apparition continued to exhibit itself for some time, and then vanished with two shrieks, similar to that which had first excited Lady Fanshaw's attention. In the morning, witli infinite terror, she communicated to her host what she had witnessed, and found him prepared not only to credit, but to account for the appari- tion. ' A near relation of my family,' said he, ' expired last night in this castle. We disgiiised our certain expectation of the event from you, lest it should throw a cloud over the cheerful reception which was due you. Now, before such an event happens in this family and castle, the female spectre Avhoni you have seen always is visible. She is believed to be the spirit of a woman of inferior rank, whom one of my ancestors degraded himself by man-ying, and whom afterwards, to expiate the dishonour done his family, he caused to be drowned in the castle moat.' Note XXXI Whose liarents in Inch-CaiUiacJi wave Their shadotvs o'er t'laa-Al^nne's grave. — p. 68. Inch-Cailliach, the Isle of Nuns, or of Old Women, is a most beautiful island at the lower extrenuty of Loch Lomond. The church belonging to the former nunnery was long used as the place of worship for the parish of Buchanan, but scarce any vestiges of it now remain. The burial-ground continues to be used, and contains the family places of sepulture of several neighbouring clans. The monuments of the lairds of Macgregor, and of other families, claiming a descent from the old Scottish King Alpine, are most remarkable. The Highlanders are as zealous of their rights of sepul- ture as may be expected from a people, whose whole laws and government, if clanship can be called so, turned upon the single principle of family de- scent. ' May his ashes be scattered on the water,' was one of the deepest and most solemn imprecations which they used against an enemy. [See a detailed description of the funeral ceremonies of a Highland chieftain in the Fair Maid of Perth, Waverley Novels, vol. 43, chaps, x. and xi. New Edition.] Note XXXII . . . The dun deer's hide On fleeter foot ivas never tied. — p. 72. The present brogue of the Highlanders is made of half-dried leather, with holes to admit and lot out the water ; for walking the moors dry-shod is a matter altogether out of cpiestion. The ancient buskin was still ruder, being made of undressed deer's hide, with the hair outwards ; a circum- stance which procured the Highlanders the well-known epithet of Bed- NOTES 209 shanks. The process is very accurately described by one Elder (himself a Highlander) in the project for a union between England and Scotland, addressed to Henry viii. — ' We go a-hunting, and after that we have slain red-deer, we flay off the skin by-and-by, and setting of our barefoot on the inside thereof, for want of cunning shoemakers, by your grace's pardon, we play the cobblers, compassing and measuring so much thereof as shall reach up to our ankles, pricking the upper part thereof with holes, that the water may repass where it enters, and stretching it up with a strong thong of the same above our said ankles. So, and please your noblegi-ace, we make our shoes. Therefore we using such manner of shoes, the rough hairy side outwards, in your grace's dominions of England, we be called Rough-footed /S'coi!^,'— Pinkerton's History, vol. ii. p. 397. Note XXXIII The dismal eoronach. — Tp. 74. The Coronach of the Highlanders, like the Uhdatus of the Romans, and the Ululoo of the Irish, was a wild expression of lamentation, poured forth by the mourners over the body of a departed friend. When the words of it were articulate, they expressed the praises of the deceased, and the loss the clan would sustain by his death. The following is a lamentation of this kind, literally translated from the Gaelic, to some of the ideas of which the text stands indebted. The tune is so popular, that it has since become the war-march, or gathering of the clan. Coronach on >'^ir Lauchlan, Chief of Maclean. ' Which of all the Seuaehies Can trace thy line from the root, up to Paradise, But Macvuirih, the son of Fergus? No sooner had thine ancient stately tree Taken hrm root in Albion, Than one of thy forefathers fell at Harlaw.— 'Twas then we lost a chief of deathless name. ' 'Tis no base weed— no planted tree, Nor a seedling of last Autumn ; Nor a sapling planted at Beltain ; 1 Wide, wide around were spread its lofty branches— But the topmost bough is lowly laid ! Thou hast forsaken us before Sawaine.2 ' Thy dwelling is the winter house ;— Loud, sad, sad, and mighty is thy death-song ! Oh ! courteous champion of Montrose ! Oh ! stately warrior of the Celtic Isles ! Thou Shalt buckle thy harness on no more ! ' The coronach has for some years past been superseded at funerals by the use of the bagpipe ; and that also is, like many other Highland peculiari- ties, falling into disuse, unless in remote districts. Note XXXIV Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, It glanced like lightning up Strath- 1 re.— p. 77. Inspection of the provincial map of Perthshire, or any large map of Scotland, will trace the progress of the signal through the small district of lakes and mountains, which, in exercise of my poetical privilege, I have Bell's lire, or Whitsunday. Hallowe'en. 2id THE LADY OF THE LAKE subjected to the authority of my imaginary chieftain, and which, at the period of my romance, was really occupied by a clan who claimed a descent from Alpine ; a clan the most unfortunate, and most persecuted, but neither the least distinguished, least powerful, nor least brave, of the tribes of the Gael, ' Slioch uon rioghridh duchaisach Bha-shios uu Dun-Staiobhinish Aig an roubh crun na Halba othus 'Slag a cheil duchas fast ris.' The first stage of the Fiery Cross is to Duucraggan, a place near the Brigg of Turk, where a short stream divides Loch Achray from Loch Vennachar. From thence, it passes towards Callender, and then, turning to the left up the pass of Leny, is consigned to Norman at the chapel of Saint Bride, which stood on a small and romantic knoll in the middle of the valley, called Strath-Ire. Tombea and Arnandave, or Ardmaudave, are names of places in the vicinity. The alarm is then supposed to pass along the lake of Lubnaig, and through the various glens in the district of Bal'iuidder, including the neighbouring tracts of Glentinlas and Strathgartney. Note XXXV Xo oath, but by his chieftain's hand. — p. 82. The deep and implicit respect paid by the Highland clansmen to their chief, rendered this both a common and a solemn oath. In other respects, they were like most savage nations, capricious in their ideas concerning the oldigatory power of oaths. One solemn mode of swearing was by kissing the dirk, imprecating upon themselves death by that, or a similiar weapon, if they broke their vow. But for oaths in the usual form, they are said to have had little respect. As for the reverence due to the chief, it may be guessed from the following odd example of a Highland point of honour : — 'The clan whereto the above-mentioned tribe belongs, is the only one I have heard of, which is v/ithout a chief; that is, being divided into families, under several chieftains, Avithout any particular patriarch of the whole name. And this is a great reproach, as may appear from an affair that fell out at my table, in the Highlands, between one of that name and a Cameron. The provocation given by the latter was— " Name your chief." The return of it at once was— "You are a fool." They went out next morning, but having early notice of it, I sent a small parly of soldiers after them, which, in all probability, pre- vented some barliarous mischief that might have ensued : for the chietless Highlander, who is himself a petty chieftain, was going to the place appointed with a small-sword and pistol, whereas the Cameron (an old man) took Avith him only his broadsword, according to the agreement. 'When all was over,' and I had, at least seemingly, reconciled them, I was told the Avords, of Avhich I seemed to think but slightly, AA-ere, to one of the clan, the greatest of all -proyoca-iions.'— Letters from ScotloAid, vol. i. p. 22. Note XXXVI . . . Coir-noji-Uriskin. — p. 83. This is a very steep and most romantic holloAv in the mountain of Ben- Venue, overhanging the south-eastern extremity of Loch Katrine. It is sur- rounded Avith stupendous rocks, and overshadowed Avith birch-trees, mingled NOTES 211 with oaks, the spontaneous production ot the mountain, even where its cliffs appear denuded of soil. A dale in so wild a situation, and amid a people whose genius bordered on tlie romantic, did not remain without appropriate deities. The name literally implies the Corri, or Den, of the Wild or Shaggy men. Perhaps this, as conjectured by Mr. Alexander Campbell,! may have originally only implied its being the haunt of a ferocious banditti. But tradition lias ascribed to the C/risk, who gives name to the cavern, a figure between a goat and a man ; in short, how- ever much the classical reader may be startled, precisely that of the Grecian Satyr. The Urisk seems not to have inherited, with the form, the petulance of the silvan deity of the classics : his occupation, on the contrary, resemljled those of Milton's Lubbar Fiend, or of the Scottish Brownie, though he differed from both in name and appearance. ' The Crisks,' says Dr. Graham, 'were a sort of lubberly supernaturals, who, like the Brownies, could be gained over l)y kind attention, to perform the drudgery of the farm, and it was believed that many families in the Highlands had one of the order attached to it. They were supposed to he dispersed over the Highlands, each in his own wild recess, but the solemn stated meetings of the order were regularly held in this Cave of Benvenue. This current snperstition, no doubt, alludes to some circumstance in the ancient history of this country.' — Scenery on the Southern Confines of Perthshire, p. 19, 1806. It must be owned that the Coir, or Den, does not, in its present state, meet our ideas of a subterraneous grotto, or cave, being only a small and narrow cavity, among huge fragments of rocks rudely piled together. But such a scene is liable to convulsions of nature, whicli a Lowlander cannot estimate, and which may have choked up wliat was originally a cavern. At least the name and tradition warrant the author of a fictitious tale, to assert its having been such at the remote period in which this scene is laid. Note XXXVII A single page, to hear his sword, Alone attended on his lord. — p. 85. A Highland chief, being as absolute in his patriarchal authority as any prince, had a corresponding numl)er of officers attached to his person. He had his body-guards, called Luichttach, picked from his clan for strength, activity, and entire devotion to his person. These, according to their deserts, were sure to share al)undantly in the rude profusion of his hospitality. It is recorded, for example, by trailition, that Allan MacLean, chief of that clan, happened upon a time to hear one of these favourite retainers observe to his comrade, that their chief grew old. — 'Whence do you infer that?' replied the other. 'When was it,' rejoined the first, 'that a soldier of Allan's was obliged, as I am now, not only to eat the flesh from the bone, but even to tear off the inner skin or filament ? ' The hint was quite sufficient, and MacLean next morning, to relieve his followers from such dire necessity, undertook an inroad on the mainland, the ravage of which altogether effaced the memory of his former expedi- tions for the like piirpose. Our officer of Engineers, so often quoted, has given us a distinct list of the domestic offices, who, independent of Luichttach, or gardes de corps, belonged to the establishment of a Higliland Chief. These are, 1. The Henchman. 2. The Bard. See preceding notes. 3. Blaider, or spokes- man. 4. Gillie^more, or sword-bearer, alluded to in the text. 5. Gillie- 1 Journey from Edinburgh, 1802, p. 109. 212 THE LADY OF THE LAKE casflicc, who carried the chief, if on fool, over the fords. 6. Gillie-con- straine, who leads the chief's horse. 7. Gillie-Trushcmarinsh, the baggage mau. 8. Tlie piper. 9. The piper's gillie, or attendant, who carried the bag-pipe.^ Although this appeared, natm-ally enough, very ridicu- lous to an English officer, who considered the master of such a retinue as no more than an English gentleman of £500 a year, j'ct in the circumstances of the chief, whose strength and importance consisted in the number and attachment of his followers, it was of the last consequence, in point of policy, to have in his gift subordinate offices, which called immediately round his person those who were most devoted to him, and, being of value in their estimation, were also the means of rewarding them. Note XXXVIII The Taghairm call'd ; hy which, afar, Our sires foresaio the events of xoar. — p. 92. The Highlanders, like all rude people, had various superstitious modes of inquiring into futurity. One of the most noted was the Taghairm, mentioned in the text. A person was wrapped up in tlie skin of a newly- slain bullock, and deposited beside a waterfall, or at the bottom of a precipice, or in some other strange, wild, and unusual situation, where the scenery around him suggested nothing but objects of horror. In tliis situation, he revolved in his mind the question proposed ; and whatever was impressed upon him by his exalted imagination, passed for the in- spiration of the disembodied spirits, who haunt the desolate recesses. In some of these Hebrides, they attributed the same oracular power to a large black stone by the sea-shore, which they approached with certain solemnities, and considered the first fancy which came into their own minds, after they did so, to be the undoubted dictate of the tutelar deity of the stone, and, as such, to be, if possible, punctually complied with. Martin has recorded the following curious modes of Highland augury, in which the Taghairm, and its effects upon the person who was subjected to it, may serve to illustrate the text. 'It was an ordinary thing among the over-curious to consult an invisible oracle, concerning the fate of families and battles, etc. This was iterformed three dift'erent ways : the first was by a company of men, one of whom, being detached by lot, was afterwards carried to a river, which was the boundary between two villages : four of the company laid hold on him, and, having shut his eyes, they took him by the legs and arms, and then, tossing him to and again, struck his hips with force against the bank. One of them cried out, "What is it you have got here?" another answers, "A log of birch-wood." The other cries again, " Let his invisible friends appear from all quarters, and let them relieve him by giving an answer to our present demands " ; and in a few minutes after, a number of little creatures came from the sea, who answered the question, and disappeared suddenly. The man was then set at liberty, and they all returned home, to take their measures according to the pre- diction of their false prophets ; but the poor deluded fools were abused, for their answer was still ambiguous. This was always practised in the night, and may literally be called the works of darkness. ' 1 had an account from the most intelligent and judicious men in the Isle of Skie, that about sixty-two years ago, the oracle was thus con- sulted only once, and that Avas in the parish of Kilmartin, on the east 1 Letters from Scotland, vol. ii. p. 15. NOTES 213 side, liy a wicked and mischievous race of people, who are now extin- guished, both root and branch. ' The second way of consulting the oracle was by a party of men, who first retired to solitary places, remote from any house, and there they singled out one of their number, and wrapt him in a big cow's hide, which they folded about him : his whole body was covered with it, except liis head, and so left in this posture all niglit, until his invisible friends relieved him, by giving a proper answer to the question in hand ; which he received, as he fancied, from several persons that he found al:)outhim all that time. His consorts returned to him at the break of day, and then he communicated his news to them ; wliicli often proved fatal to those con- cerned in such unwarrantable inquiries. ' There was a third Avay of consulting, which was a confirmation of the second above mentioned. The same company who put the man into the liide took a live cat, and put him on a spit ; one of the number was employed to turn the spit, and one of his consorts inquired of him, "What are you doing?" he answered, ''I roast this cat until his friends answer the question " ; which must be the same that was pro- posed by the man shut up in the hide. And afterwards, a very big eat 1 comes, attended by a number of lesser cats, desiring to relieve the eat turned upon the spit, and then answers the question. If this answer proved the same that was given to tlie man in the hide, then it was taken as a confirmation of the other, wliich, in this case, w^as believed infallible. ' Mr. Alexander Cooper, present minister of North-Uist, told me that one John Erach, in tlie Isle of Lewis, assured him, it was his fate to have been led by his curiosity with some who consulted this oracle, and that he was a night within the hide, as above mentioned ; during which time he felt and heard such terrible things, that he could not express them ; the impression it made on him was such as could never go ott', and lie said for a thousand worlds he would never again be concerned in the like perform- ance, for this had disordered him to a high degree. He confessed it in- genuously, and with an air of great remorse, and seemed to be very penitent under a just sense of so great a crime : he declaimed this about five years since, and is still living in the Lewis for anything I know.' — De- scription of the Western Isles, p. 110. See also Pennant's Scottish Tour, vol. ii. p. 36]. Note XXXIX The choicest of the xweaj we had, When swept our merry-men Gallangacl. — p. 92. I know not if it be worth observing, that this passage is taken almost literally from the mouth of an old Highland Kern, or Ketteran, as they were called. He used to narrate the merry doings of the good old time when he was foUow^er of Kob Eoy MacGregor. This leader, on one occasion, thought proper to make a descent upon the lower part of the Loch Lomond district, and summoned all the heritors and farmers to meet at the Kirk of Di-ymen, to pay him blackmail, i.e. tribute for forbearance and protection. As this invitation was supported by a band of thirty or forty stout fellows, only one gentleman, an ancestor, if I mistake not, of the present Mr. Grahame of Gartmore, ventured to decline compliance. Rob Roy instantly swept his land of all he could drive away, and among the spoil was a bull of the old Scottish wild breed, whose ferocity 1 The reader may have met with tlie story of the 'King of the Cats,' in Lord Littleton's Letters, It is well known in the Highlands as a nursery tale. 2 14 THE LADY OF THE LAKE occasioned great plague to the Ketterans. ' B\it ere we had reached the Row of Deiinan,' said the old man, ' a child might have scratched his ears.' i The circumstance is a minute one, but it paints the times when the poor beeve was compelled ' To hoof it o'er as many weary miles, With goading pikemen hollowing at his heels, As e'er the bravest antler of the woods.' Ethwald. Note XL Or raven on the blasted oak, That, watching while the deer is broke, His morsel claims with sullen croak. — p. 93. Quartered. — Every thing belonging to the chase was matter of solemnity among our ancestors ; but nothing was more so than the mode of cutting up, or, as it was technically called, breaking, the slaughtered stag. The forester had his allotted portion ; the hounds had a certain allowance ; and, to make the division as general as possible, the very birds had their share also. ' There is a little gristle,' says Turberville, ' which is upon the spoone of tlie brisket, which we call the raven's bone ; and I have seen in some places a raven so wont and accustomed to it, that she would never fail to croak and cry for it all the time you were in breaking up of the deer, and would not depart till she had it.' In the very ancient metrical romance of Sir Tristrem, that peerless knight, who is said to have been the very deviser of all rules of chase, did not omit the ceremony : 'The rauen he yaue his yiftes Sat on tile fourched tre.' Sir Tristrem, vol. v. New Edit. p. 160. The raven might also challenge his rights by the Book of St. Albans ; for thus says Dame Juliana Berners : . . . Slitteth anon The bely to the side, from the Corbyn bone ; That is Corby n's fee, at the death he will be.' Johnson, in ' The Sad Shepherd,' gives a more poetical account of tlie same ceremony : ' Marian. . . . He that undoes him. Doth cleave the brisket bone, upon the spoon Of which a little gristle grows— you call it — Robin Hood. The raven's bone. Marian. Now o'er head sat a raven On a sere bough, a grown, great bird, and hoarse, Who, all the while the deer was breaking up, So croaked and cried for't, as all the huntsmen. Especially old Scathlock, thought it ominous.' Note XLI Alice Brand. — p. 100. This little fairy tale is founded upon a very curious Danish ballad, which occurs in the Kanipe Viser, a collection of heroic songs, first published in 1591, and reprinted in 1695, inscribed by Anders Sofrensen, the collector 1 This anecdote was, in former editions, inaccurately ascribed to Gregor Mac- gregor of Glengyle, called Ghlune Dhu, or Black -knee, a relation of Rob Roy, but, as I have been assured, not addicted to his predatory excesses.— i^'ofe to Third Editioiu NOTES 215 and editor, to Sophia, Queen of Denmark. I have been favoured with a literal translation of the original, by my learned friend Mr. Robert Jamieson, whose deep knowledge of Scandinavian anticiuities willj 1 hope, one day be displayed in illustration of the history of Scottisli Ballad and Song, for which no man possesses more ample materials. The story will remind the readers of the Border Minstrelsy of the tale of Young Tandane. But this is only a solitary and not very marked instance of coincidence^ whereas several of the other ballads in the same collection find exact counterparts in the Kampe Viser. Which may have been the ori"-inals, will be a question for future antiquaries. Mr. Jamieson, to secure the power of literal translation, has adopted the old Scottish idiom, which approaches so near to that of the Danish, as almost to give word for word as well as line for line, and indeed in many verses the orthography alone is altered. As Wester Haf, mentioned in the first stanza of the ballad, means the West Sea, in opposition to the Baltic, ov East Sea, Mr. Jamieson inclines to be of opinion, that the scene of the disenchantment is laid in one of the Orkney, or Hebride Islands. To each verse in the original is added a burden, having a kind of meaning of its own, but not applicable, at least not uniformly applicable, to the sense of the stanza to which it is subjoined : this is very common both in Danish and Scottish song.— [See the Ballad, Sir Walter Scott's Poetical Works, vol. viii. p. 328.] Note XLII . . . The moody Elfin King. — p. 101. In a long dissertation upon the Fairy Superstitions, jniblished in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, the most valuable part of which was supplied by my learned and indefatigable friend, Dr. John Leyden, most of the circumstances are collected which can throw light upon the popular belief which even yet prevails respecting them in Scotland. Dr. Grahame, author of an entertaining work upon the scenery of the Perth- shire Highlands, already frequently quoted, has recorded, with great accuracy, the peculiar tenets held by tlu' Highlanders on this topic, in the vicinity of Loch Katrine. The learned author is inclined to deduce the whole mythology from the Druidical system,— an opinion to which there are many objections. ' The Daoine Shi', or Men of Peace of the Highlanders, though not ab- solutely malevolent, are believed to be a peevish, repining race of beings, who, possessing themselves but a scanty portion of happiness, are supposed to envy mankind their more complete and substantial enjoyments. They are supposed to enjoy, in their subterraneous recesses, a sort of shadowy happiness,— a tinsel grandeur ; wdiich, however, they Avould willingly ex- change for the more solid joys of mortality. ' They are believed to inhabit certain round grassy eminences, Avhere they celebrate their nocturnal festivities by the light of the moon. About a mile beyond the source of the Forth, above Lochcon, there is a place called Coirshi'an, or the Cove of the Men of Peace, which is still supposed to be a favourite place of their residence. In the neighbourhood are to be seen many round conical eminences ; particularly one near the head of the lake, by the skirts of which many are still afraid to pass after sunset. It is be- lieved, that if, on Hallow-eve, any person, alone, goes roimd one of these hills nine times, towards the left hand (sinistrorsum) a door shall open, by which he will be admitted into their subterraneous abodes. Many, it is said, of mortal race, have been entertained in their secret recesses. There they have been received into the most splendid apartments, and 2l6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE regaled with the most sumptuous bauquets and delicious wines. Their females surpass the daughters of men in beauty. The seemingly happy inhabitants pass their time in festivity, and in dancing to notes of the soft- est music. But unhappy is the mortal who joins in their joys, or ventures to partake of their dainties. By this indulgence, he forfeits for ever the society of men, and is bound down irrevocably to the condition of Shi'ich, or Man of Peace. ' A woman, as is reported in the Highland tradition, was conveyed, in days of yore, into the secret recesses of the Men of Peace. There she was recognised by one who had formerly been an ordinary mortal, but who had, by some fatality, become associated with the Shi'ichs. This acquaintance, still retaining some portion of human benevolence, warned her of her danger, and counselled her, as she valued her liberty, to abstain from eat- ing and drinking with them, for a certain space of time. She complied wfth the counsefof her friend ; and when the period assigned was elapsed, she found herself again upon earth, restored to the society of mortals. It is added, that Avhen she examined the viands which had been presented to her and which had appeared so tempting to the eye, they were found, now that the enchantment was removed, to consist only of the refuse of the earth.'— P. 107-111. Note XLIII Why somids yon stroke on beech and oak, Oar moonlight circle's screen 1 Or who comes here to chase the deer, Beloved of our Elfin Queen.— -p. 101. It has been already observed, that fairies, if not positively malevolent, are capricious and easily offended. They are, like other proprietors of forests, peculiarly jealous of their rights of veii and venison, as appears from the cause of offence taken, in the original Danish ballad. This jealousy was also an attribute of the northern Daergar, or dwarfs ; to many of whose distinctions the faii-ies seem to have succeeded, if, indeed, they are not the same class of beings. In the huge metrical record of German chivalry, entitled the Helden-Buch, Sir HildeVirand, and the other heroes of whom' it treats, are engaged in one of their most desperate ad- ventures, from a rash violation of the rose-garden of an Elfin, or Dwarf There are yet traces of a belief in this worst and most malicious order of Fairies, among the Border wilds. Dr. Leyden has introduced .such a dwarf into his ballad entitled the Cout of Keeldar. and has not forgot his char- acteristic detestation of the chase. ' The third blast that young Keeldar blew Still stood the limber fern, And a wee man, of swarthy hue, Upstarted by a cairn. ' His russet weeds were brown as heath, That clothes the upland fell, And the hair of his head was frizzly red As the purple heather-bell. ' An urchin, clad in prickles red, Clung cow'riug to his arm ; The hounds they howld, and backward fled, As struck by fairy charm. NOTES 217 ' " Why rises high the stag-hound's cry, Where stag-hound ne'er should be? Why wakes that horn the silent morn, Without the leave of me?"— ' " Brown Dwarf, that o'er the muirland strays, Thy name to Keeldar tell ! "— "The Brown Man of the Muirs, who stays. Beneath the heather-bell. ' " 'Tis sweet beneath the heather-bell To live in autumn brown ; And sweet to hear the lav'rock's swell, Far, far from tower and town. ' " But woe betide the shrilling horn, The chase's surly cheer ! ^ And ever that hunter is forlorn, Whom first at morn I hear." ' The poetical picture here given of the Duergar corresponds exactly with the following Northumbrian legend, Avith which I was lately favoured by my learned and kind friend, Mr. Surtees of Mainsforth, who has bestowed indelatigable labour upon the antiquities of the English Border counties. The subject is in itself so curious, that the length of the note will, I hope, be pardoned : — ' I have only one record to ofler of the appearance of our Northumbrian Duergar. My narratrix is Elizabeth Cockburn, an old wife of Offerton, in this county, whose credit, in a case of this kind, will not, I hope, be much impeached, Avhen I add, that she is, by her dull neighbours, supposed to be occasionally insane, but,. by herself, to be at those times endowed with a faculty of seeing visions, and spectral appearances, which shun the common ken. ' In the year before the great rebellion, two young men from Newcastle were sporting on the high moors above Eldson, and after pursuing their game several liours, sat down to dine in a green glen, near one of the mountain streams. After their repast, the younger lad ran to the brook for water, and after stooping to drink, was surprised, on lifting his head again, bv the appearance of a brown dwarf, who stood on^^x crag, covered with brackens, across the burn. This extraordinary personage did not appear to be above half the stature of a common man, but was un- commonly stout and broad-built, having the appearance of vast strength. His dress was entirely brown, the colour of the brackens, and his head covered with frizzled red hair. His countenance was expressive of the most savage ferocity, and his eyes glared like a bull. It seems he addressed "the young man first, threatening him with his vengeance, for having trespassed on his demesnes, and asking him if he kneAV in whose presence he stood? The youth replied, that he now supposed him to be the lord of the moors ; that he offended through ignorance ; and ottered to bring him the game he had killed. The dwarf was a little mollified by this submission, but remarked, that nothing could be more oflensiye to him than such an offer, as he considered the wild animals as his subjects, and never failed to avenge their destruction. He condescended further to inform him, that he was, like himself, mortal, though of years far exceeding the lot of common humanity ; and (what I should not have had an idea of) that he hoped for salvation. He never, he added, fed on any thing that had life, but lived, in the summer, on whortle-berries, and in winter, on nuts and apples, of which he had great store in the woods Finally, he invited his new acquaintance to accompany him home, and 2l8 THE LADY OF THE LAKE partake his hospitality ; an ofter which the youth was on the point of accepting, and was just going to .spring across the brook (which, if he had done, says Elizabeth, the dwarf would certainly have torn him in pieces), when his foot was arrested by the voice of his companion, w^ho thought he had tarried long : and on looking round again, "the wee brown man was fled. " The story adds, that he was imprudent enough to slight the admoni- tion, and to sport over the moor on his way homewards: but soon after his return, he fell into a lingering disorder, and died within the year.' Note XLIV . . . The fairies' fatal green. — p. lOL As the Daoine Slti , or Men of Peace, wore green habits, they were supposed to take oftence when any mortals ventured to assume their favourite colour. Indeed, from some reason, which has been, perhaps, originally a general superstition, ^ree?i is held in Scotland to be unlucky to particular tribes and counties. The Caithness men, who hold this belief, allege, as a reason, that their bands wore that colour w^hen they were cut off at the battle of Flodden ; and for the same reason they avoid crossing tlie Ord on a IMonday, being the day of the week on which their ill-omened array set forth. Green is also disliked by those of the name of Ogilvy ; but more especially it is held fatal to the whole clan of Grahame. It is remembered of an aged gentleman of that name, that when his horse fell in a fox-chase, he accounted for it at once, by observing that the whip-cord attached to his lash was of this unlucky colour. Note XLV For ikon wert christened man. — p. 101. The Elves were supposed greatly to envy the privileges acquired by Christian initiation, and they gave to those mortals who had fallen into their power a certain precedence, founded upon this advantageous dis- tinction. Tamlane, in the old ballad, describes his own rank in the fairy procession : — ' For I ride on a milk-white steed, And aye nearest the town ; Because I was a christen'd knight, They give me that renown.' I presume that, in the Danish ballad of The Elfin Grey [see Poetical Works, vol. viii. p. 328], the obstinacy of the ' Weiest Elf,' who would not flee for cross or sign, is to be derived from the circumstance of his having been ' christen'd man.' How eager the Elves were to obtain for their offspring the prerogatives of Christianity, will be proved by the following story : ' In the district called Haga, in Iceland, dwelt a nobleman called Sigward Forster, who had an intrigue with one of the subterranean females. The elf became pregnant, and exacted from her lover a hrm promise that he would procure the baptism of the infant. At the appointed time, the mother came to the churchyard, on the wall of which she placed a golden cup, and a stole for the priest, agreeable to the custom of making an offering at baptism. She then stood a little apart. When the priest left the church, he inquired the meaning of what he saw, and demanded of Sigward if he avowed himself the father of the child. But Sigward, ashamed of the connexion, denied the paternity. He was then in- terrogated if he desired that the child should be baptized; but this also NOTES 219 he answered in the negative, lest, by such request, he shouhl admit himself to be the father. On which the chihl was left untouched and unhaptized. Whereupon the mother, in extreme wrath, snatched up the infant and the cup and retired, leaving the priestly cope, of which fragments are still in preservation. But this female denounced and imposetl upon Sigward and his posterity, to tlie ninth generation, a singular disease, Avith which many of his descendants are afflicted at this day.' Thus wrote Einar Dudmond, pastor of the parish of Garpsdale, in Iceland, a man profoundly versed in learning, from whose manuscript it was ex- tracted 1iy the'learned Toricews.—IIistoria Hroiji Krakii, Hafnia, 1715, 2)refatio. Note XLVI A7ul gaily shines the Fairy-land — But all is glisteniny shoio. — p. 103. No fact respecting Fairy-land seems to be better ascertained than the fantastic and illusory nature of their apparent pleasure and splendour. It has been already noticed in the former quotations from Dr. CTrahame's entertaining volume, and may be confirmed by tlie following Highland tradition. ' A woman, whose new-born child had been conveyed by them into their secret al)odes, was also carried thither herself, to remain, ho\v- ever, only until she should suckle her infant. She, one day, during this period, observed the Shi'ichs busily employed in mixing various in- gredients in a boiling cauldron ; and, as soon as the composition was pre- pared, she remarked that they all carefully anointed their eyes witli it, laying the remainder aside for future use. In a moment when they w^ere all ab°sent, she also attempted to anoint her eyes with the precious drug, but had time to apply it to one eye only, when the Daoine Shi' returned. But with that eve she was henceforth enabled to see every thing as it really passed in 'their secret abodes :— She saw every ol)ject, not as she hitherto had done, in deceptive splendour and elegance, but in its genuine colours and form. The gaudy ornaments of the apartment were reduced to the walls of a gloomy cavern. Soon after, having discharged her office, she was dismissed to her own home. Still, however, she retained the faculty of seeing, with her medicated eye, every tiling that was done, any where in her presence, by the deceptive art of the order. One day, amidst a throng of people, she chanced to observe the Shi'ich, or man of peace, in whose possession she had left her child, though to every other eye invisible. Prompted by maternal aflection, she inadvertently accosted him, and began to inquire after the welfare of her child. The man of peace, astonished at being thus recognised by one of mortal race, de- manded how she had been enabled to discover him. AAved by the terrible frown of his countenance, she acknowledged what she had done. He spat in her eye and extinguished it for ever.'— Grahame's Sketches, p. 116-118. It is very remarkable that this story, translated by Dr. Grahame from popular Gaelic tradition, is to be found in the Otia Imperialia of Gervase of Tilbury. A work of great interest might be compiled upon the original of popular fiction, and the transmission of similar tales from age to a.ge, and from country to country. The mythology of one period would then appear to pass into the romance of the next century, and that iiito the nursery tale of the subsequent ages. Such an investigation, while it went greatly to diminish our ideas of the richness of human invention, would also show that these fictions, however wild and childish, possess such charms for the populace, as enable them to penetrate into countries 220 THE LADY OF THE LAKE unconnected by manners and language, and having no apparent inter- course, to afford the means of transmission. It would carry me far beyond my bounds, to produce instances of this community of fable, among nations who never borrowed from each other any thing intrinsically worth learning. Indeed, the wide diffusion of popular fictions may be compared to the facility with which straws and feathers are dispersed abroad by the wind, while valuable metals cannot be transported without trouble and labour. There lives, I believe, only one gentleman, whose unlimited acquaintance with this subject might enable him to do it justice ; I mean my friend Mr. Francis Douce, of the British Museum, whose u.sual kindness ^\'ill, I hope, pardon my mentioning his name, while on a subject so closely connected with his extensive and curious researches. Note XLVII . . . Siudched away To the joyless Eljin bower. — p. 103. The subjects of Fairy-land were recruited from the regions of humanity by a sort of crimping system, which extended to adults as well as to infants. Many of those' who were in this world supposed to have dis- charged the debt of nature, had only become denizens of the ' Londe of Faeiy.' In the beautiful Fairy Romance of Orfee and Heurodiis (Orpheus and Eurydice) in the Auchinleck MS., is the following striking enumera- tion of persons thus aljstracted from middle earth. Mr. Pdtson unfor- tunately published this romance from a copy in which tlie following, and many other highly poetical passages, do not occur :— ' Then he gan biliolde abonte al, And seighe ful liggeand within the wal, Of folk that wer thidder y-brought, And thought dede and nere nought ; Some stode withouten hedde ; And sum non amies nade ; And sum tliiucli the bodi hadde wounde ; And sum lay wode y-bounde ; And sum armed on hers sete ; And sum astrangled as thai ete ; And sum war in water adreynt ; And sum with tire al forsohreynt ; Wives ther lay on childe bedde ; Sum dede, and sum awedde ; And wonder fele ther lay besides, Right as thai slepe her undertides : Eche was thias in the warld y-nome With fairi thider y-come.' Note XLVIII Who ever reck'd, ichere, hoio, or when, The irrou-ling fox was trapped or slain ? — p. 117. St. Jolm actuallv used this illustration when engaged in confuting the plea of law proposed for the unfortunate Earl of Strafford : ' It was true, we gave laws to hares and deer, because they are beasts of chase : but it was never accounted either cruelty or foul play to knock foxes or wolves on vhe head as they can be found, because they are beasts of prey. In a word, the law and humanity were alike ; the one being more fallacious, and the other more barbarous, than in any age had been vented in such an authority.'— Clarendon's History »/ the Rebellio^i, Oxford. 1702. fol. vol. p. 183. NOTES 221 Note XLIX . . . his Highland cheer, Theharden'd flesh of mountain deer. — p. 118. The Scottish Highlanders, in former times, had a concise mode of cooking their venison, or rather of dispensing with cooking it, Avhich appears greatlj^ to have surprised the French, whom chance made acquainted with it. The Vidame of Chartres, wlien a hostage inEnghand, during the reign of Edward vi., was permitted to travel into Scotland, and penetrated as far as to the remote Highlands {au fin fond dcs Sauvages). After a great hunting party, at which a most wondertul quantity of game was destroyed, he saw these Scottish savages devour a part of their venison raw, without any farther preparation than com- pressing it between two Ijatons of wood, so as to force out the blood, and render it extremely hard. This they reckoneil a great delicacy ; and when the Vidame partook of it, his compliance with their taste rendered him extremely popular. Tliis curious trait of manners was communi- cated by Mons. de Montmorency, a great friend of the Vidame, to Brantome, by whom it is recorded in Vies des Hommes lUustres, Uiscours, Ixxxix, art. 14. The process by which the raw venison was rendered eatable is described very minutely in the romance of Perceforest, where Estonne, a Scottish knight-errant, having slain a deer, says to his companion Claudius : — ' Sire, or mangerez vous et moy aussi. Voire si nous anions de feu, dit Claudius. Par I'ame de mon pere, dist Estonne, ie vous atourneray et cuiray a la maniere de nostre pays comme pour clieualier errant, Lors tira son espee, et sen vint a la branche dung ar))re, et y fait vng grant trou, et puis fend la branche bien deux piedx, et boute la cuisse du cerf entredeux, ut puis prent le licol de son cheval, et en lye la branche, et destraint si fort, que le sang et les humeurs de la chair saillent hors, et demeure la chair doulce et seiche. Lors prent la chair et oste ins le cuir, et la chaire demeure aussi blanche comme si ce feust dung chappon. Dont dist a Claudius, Sire, ie la vous ay cuiste a la guise de mon pays, vous en pouez manger hardyement, car ie mangeray premier. Lors met sa main a sa selle en vng lieu quil y auoit, et tire hors sel et l)oudre de poiure et gingembre, mesle ensemble, et le iecte dessus, et le frote sus bien fort, puis le couppe a moytie, et en donne a Claudius I'une des pieces, et puis mort en I'autre aussi sauourensement (juil est aduis que il en feist la pouldre voller. Quant Claudius veit quil le mangeoit de tel goust, il en print grant faim, et commence a manger tresvoulentiers, et dist a Estonne : Par Fame de moy ie ne mangeay oncquesmais de chair atournee de telle guise : mais doresenauant ie ne me retourneroye pas hors de mon chemin par auoir la cuite. Sire, dist Estonne, quant ie suis en desers d'Escosse, dont ie suis seigneur, ie cheuaucheray hnit iours on quinze que ie n'entreray en chastel ne en maison, et si ne verray feu ne persone viuant fors que bestes sauuages, et de celles mangeray atournees en ceste maniere, et mienlx me plaira que la viande de I'empereur. Ainsi sen vont mangeant et cheuauchant iusques adonc quilz arriuerent sur une moult belle fontaine qui estoit en vne valee. Quant Estonne la vit il dist a Claudius, allons boire a ceste fontaine. Or beuuons, dist Estonne, du boire que le grant dieu a pourueu a toutes gens, et qui me plaist mieulx que les ceruoises d'Angleterre.' — La Treselegantc Hystoire du tresnoUe Roy Perceforest. Paris, 1531, fol. tome i. fol. Iv. vers. After all, it may be doubted Avhether la chaire noslree, for so the 222 THE LADY OF THE LAKE French called the venison thus summarily i)repared, was any thing more than a mere rude kind of deer ham. NoteL The young King, meio'd in Stirling toiver. Was stranger to respect and poioer. — p. 124. There is scarcely a more disorderly period of Scottish history than that which succeeded the battle of Flodden and occupied the minority of James v. Feuds of ancient standing broke out like old wounds, and every quarrel among the independent nobility, Avhich occurred daily and almost hourly, gave rise to fresh bloodshed. ' There arose,' said Pitscottie, ' great trouble and deadly feuds in many parts of Scotland, both in the north and west parts. The master of Forbes, in the north, slew the Laird of Meldrum, under tryst' (i.e. r/t an agreed and secure meeting). ' Likewise, the Laird of Drummelzier slew the Lord Fleming at the hawking: and, likewise, there was slaughter among many other great lords.' — p. 121. Nor was the matter much mended under the government of the Earl of Angus : for though he caused the king to ride through all Scotland, 'under the pretence and colour of justice, to punish tliief and traitor, none were found greater than were in their own company. And none at that time durst strive with a Douglas, nor yet a Douglas's man : for if they Avould, tliey got the worst. Therefore, none durst plainzie of no extortion, theft, reiff, nor slaughter, done to them by the Douglasses, or their men ; in that cause they were not heard so long as the Douglas had the Court in gmding.'— Ibid. p. 133. Note LI The Gael, of plain (nid river heir, Shall, loith strong hand, redeemhis share. — p. 126. The ancient Highlanders verified in their practice the lines of Gray :— 'An iron race the mountain clifts maintain, Foes to the gentler genius of the plain ; For where unwearied sinews must be found, With side-long plough to quell the flmty ground ; To turn the torrent's swift descending flood ; To tame the savage rushing from the wood ; What wonder if, to patient valour train'd, They guard with spirit v.hat by strength they gain'd ; And while their rocky ramparts round they see The rough abode of want and liberty, (As lawless force from confidence will grow,) Insult the plenty of the vales below?' Fragment on the Alliance of Education and Government. So far, indeed, Avas a Creagh, or foray, from being held disgraceful, that a young chief was always expected to show his talents for command so soon as he assumed it, by leading his clan on a successful enterprise of this nature, either against a neighbouring sept, for which constant fends usually furnished an apology, or against the Sassenach, Saxons, or Lowlanders. for which no apology was necessary. The Gael, great traditional historians, never forgot that the Lowlands had, at some remote period, been the property of their Celtic forefathers, which furnished an ample vindication of all the ravages that they could make on the unfortunate districts which lay within their reach. Sir James Grant of Grant is in possession of a letter of apology from Cameron of Lochiel, whose men had committed some depredation upon a farm called NOTES 223 Moines, occupied by one ol' the Grauto. Locliiel assures Grant that, however the mistake had happened, his instructions were precise, that the party shoukl foray the province of Moray (a Lowland district), where, as he coolly observes, ' all men take their prey.' Note LII . . . I vnlij meant To shoio the reed on which you leant, Deeming this path you might 2}ti.r sue Without a pass from Roderick Dim.— \^. 129. This incident, like some other passages in the poem, illustrative of the character of the ancient Gael, is not imaginary, but borrowed from fact. The Highlanders, with the inconsistency of most nations in the same state, were alternately capable of great exertions of generosity, and of cruel revenge and pertidy. The following story I can only quote from tradition, but witli such an assurance from those by whom it was communicated, as permits me little doubt of its authenticity. Early in the last century, John Gunn, a noted Cateran, or Highland robber, infested Inverness-shire, and levied hlack-mail up to the walls of the pro- vincial capital. A garrison was then maintained in the castle of that town, and their pay (country banks being unknown) was usually transmitted in specie, under the guard of a small escort. It chanced that the officer who commanded this little party was unexpectedly obliged to halt, about thirty miles from Inverness, at a miserable inn. About nightfall, a stranger in the Highland dress, and of very prepossessing appearance, entered the same house. Separate accommodation being impossible, the Englishman offered the newly arrived guest a part of his supper, which was accepted with reluctance. By the conversation he found his new acquaintance knew well all the passes of the country, which induced him eagerly to request his company on the ensuing morning. He neither disguised his business and charge, nor his aiiprehensions of that celebrated freebooter, John Gunn. The Highlander hesitated a moment, and then frankly consented to be his guide. Forth they set in the morning ; and, in travelling through a solitary and dreary glen, the discourse again turned on John Gunn. ' Would you like to see him ? ' said the guide ; and. without waiting an answer to this alarming question, he whistled, and' the English officer, with his small party, were surrounded by a body of Highlanders, whose numbers put resistance out of (piestion, and who were all well armed. 'Stranger,' resumed the guide, 'I am that very John Gunn by whom you feared to be intercepted, and not without cause: for I came to the inn last night with the express purpose of learning your route, that I and my followers might ease you of your charge by the road. But I am incapable of betraying the trust you reposed in rne, and having convinced you that you were in my power. I can only dismiss you unplundered and uninjured.' He then gave the officer directions for his journey, and disappeared with his party, as suddenly as they had presented themselves. Note LIII Bochastle.—^. 130. The torrent which discharges itself from Loch Vennachar, the lowest and eastmost of the three lakes which form the scenery adjoining to the Trosachs, sweeps through a flat and extensive moor, called Bochastle. Upon a small eminence, called the Du)i of Bochastle, and indeed on the 224 THE LADY OF THE LAKE plain itself, are some intrencliments, which have beeu thought Roman. There is adjacent to Callender, a sweet villa, the residence of Captain Fairfoiil, entitled the Roman Camp, Note LIV See, here, all cantageless I stand, Arm'd, like thyself, v:ith single brand. — p. 131. The duellists of former times did not always stand upon those punctilios respecting equality of arms, which are now judged essential to fair combat. It is true, that in formal combats in the lists, the parties were, by the judges of the field, put as nearly as possible in the same circum- stances. But in private duel it was often otherwise. In that desperate combat which was fought between Quelus, a minion of Henry iii. of France, and Antraguet, with two seconds on each side, from which only two persons escaped alive, Quelus complained that his antagonist had over him the advantage of a poniard which he used in parrying, while his left hand, which he was forced to employ for the same jnirpose, was cruelly mangletl. When he charged Antraguet with this odds, ' Thou hast done wrong,' answered he, ' to forget thy dagger at home. We are here to fight, and not to settle punctilios of arms.' In a similar duel, however, a young brother of the house of Aubayue, in Angoidesme, behaved more generously on the like occasion, and at once threw away his dagger when his enemy challenged it as an undue advantage. But at this time hardly any thing can be conceived more horridly brutal and savage, than the mode in which private quarrels were conducted in France. Those who were most jealous of the point of honour, and acquired the title of Paiffines, did not scruple to take every advantage of strength, numbers, surprise, and arms, to accomplish^heir revenge. The Sieur de Brantome, to whose discourse on duels I am obliged for these particulars, gives the following account of the death and principles of his friend, the Baron de Vitaux : — ' J'ay oui confer a un Tireur d'armes, (jui apprit a Millaud a en tirer, lequel s'appelloit Seigneur le Jacques FerroD, de la ville d'Ast, qui avoit este ii moy, 11 fut despuis tue a Saincte-Basille en Gascogne, lors que I\Ionsieiir du Mayne I'assiegea, lui servant d'Ingenieur ; et de malheur, je I'avois addresse audit Baron quelques trois mois auparavant, pour I'exercer a tirer, bien qu'il en s^eust prou ; mais il n'en fit compte : et le laissant, Millaud s'eu servit, et le rendit fort adroit. Ce Seigneur Jacques done me raconta, qu'il s'estoit monte sur un noyer, assez loing, pour en voir le combat, et qu'il ne vist jamais homme y aller plus brave- ment, ny plus resolument, ny de grace plus asseuree ny determinee. II commen^a de marcher de cinquante pas vers son ennemy, relevant souvent ses moustaches en haut d'une main ; et estant a vingt pas de son ennemy (non plustost). il niit la main a I'espee qu'il tenoit en la main, non qu'il I'eust tiree encore ; mais en marchant, il fit voller le fourreau en I'air, en le secouant, ce qui est le beau de cela, et (pi monstroit bien une grace de combat bien assuree et froide, et nullement temeraire, conime il y en a qui tirent leurs espees de cinq cents pas de I'ennemy, voire de ndlle, comme j'en ay veu aucuns. Ainsi mourut ce brave Baron, le paragon de France, qu'on nommoit tel, a bien venger ses querelles, par grandes et determinees resolutions. II n'estoit pas seulement estime en France, mais en Italic, Espaigne, Allemaigne, en Boulogne et Angleterre ; et desiroient fort les Etrangers, venant en France, le voir ; car je I'ay veu, tant sa renommee volloit. II estoit NOTES 225 fort petit de corps, mais fort grand de courage. Ses ennemis disoient qu'il ne tuoit pas bien ses gens, que par advantages et superclieries. Certes, je tiens de grands capitaines, et mesme d'ltaliens, qui ont estez d'autres fois les premiers vengeurs du nionde, in ogni mudo, disoient ils, qui ont tenu cette maxime, qu'une supercherie ne se devoit payer que par semblable monnoj'e, et n'y alloit point la de deshonneur. — Oeuvres de Brantome, Paris, 1787-8. Tome viii. p. 90-92. It may be necessary to inform the reader, that this paragon of France was the most foul assassin of his time, and had committed many desperate murders, chielly by the assistance of his hired banditti ; from Avhich it may be conceived how little the point of honour of the period deserved its name. I have chosen to give my heroes, who are indeed of an earlier period, a stronger tincture of the spirit of chivalry. Note LV III fared it then loith Roderick Bhu, That on the field his targe he threw. For, trained abroad his arms to wield, Fitz- James's blade loas sword and shield. — p. 133. A round target of light wood, covered with strong leather, and studded with brass or iron, was a necessary part of a Highlander's equipment. In charging regular troops they received the thrust of the bayonet in this buckler, twisted it aside, and used the broadsword against the encumbered soldier. In the civil war of 1745, most of the front rank of the clans Vere thus armed ; and Captain Grose informs us, that in 1747, the privates of the 42d regiment, then in Flanders, were for the most part permitted to carry targets. — Military Antiquities, vol. i. p. 164. A person thus armed had a considerable advantage in private fray. Among verses between Swift and Sheridan, lately published by Dr. Barrett, there is an accoimt of such an encounter, in which the circumstances, and consequently the relative superiority of the com- batants, are pi-ecisely the reverse of those in the text. 'A Highlander once fought a Frenchman at Margate, The weapons, a rapier, a backsword, and target ; Brisk Monsieur advanced as fast as he could. But all his line pushes were caught in the wood. And Sawny, with backsword, did slash him and nick him. While t'other, enraged that he could not once prick him, Cried, "Sirrah, you rascal, you son of a whore, Me will fight you, be gar ! if you '11 come from your door." ' The use of defensive armour, and particularly of the buckler, or target, was general in Queen Elizabeth's time, although that of the single rapier seems to have been occasionally practised much earliei'. Rowland Yorke, however, who betrayed the fort of Zutphen to the Spaniards, for which good service he was afterwards poisoned by them, is said to have been the first who brought the rapier-fight into general use. Fuller, speaking of the swash-bucklers, or bullies, of Queen Elizabeth's time, says, 'West Smithfield was formerly called Ruffians' Hall, where such men usually met, casually or otherwise, to try masteries with sword and buckler. More were frightened than hurt, more hurt than killed therewith, it being accounted unmanly to strike beneath the knee. P 226 THE LADY OF THE LAKE But since that desperate traitor Rowland Yorke first introduced thrusting with rapiers, sword and buckler are disused.' In The Ttoo Angry Women of Abingdon, a comedy, printed in 1599, we have a pathetic complaint : — ' Sword and buckler fight begins to grow out of use. I am sorry for it : I shall never see good manhood again. If it be once gone, this poking fight of rapier and dagger will come up ; then a tall man, and a good sword and buckler man, will be spitted like a cat or rabbit.' But the rapier had upon the continent long superseded, in private duel, the use of sword and shield. The masters of the noble science of defence were chiefly Italians, Thej' made great mystery of their art and mode of instruction, never sufi"ered any person to be present but the scholar who was to be taught, and even examined closets, beds, and other places of possible concealment. Their lessons often gave the most treacherous advantages ; for the challenged, having the right to choose his weapons, frequently selected some strange, unusual, and inconvenient kind of arms, the use of which he practised under his instructors, and thus killed at his ease his antagonist, to whom it was presented for the first time on the field of battle. See Brantome's Discourse on Duels, and the work on the same subject, 'si gentement ecriV by the venerable Dr. Paris de Puteo. The Highlanders con- tinued to use broadsword and target until disarmed after the affair of 1745-6. Note LVI Let recreant yield, who fears to die. — p. 134. I have not ventured to render this duel so savagely desperate as that of the celebrated Sir Ewan of Lochiel, chief of the clan Cameron, called, from his sable complexion, Ewan Dhu. He was the last man in Scotland who maintained the royal cause during the great Civil War, and his constant incursions rendered him a very unpleasant neighbour to the republic garrison at Inverlochy, now Fort William. The governor of the fort detached a party of three hundred men to lay waste Lochiel's possessions, and cut down his trees ; but, in a sudden and desperate attack made upon them by the chieftain, with very inferior numbers, they were almost all cut to pieces. Tlie skirmish is detailed in a curious memoir of Sir Ewan's life, printed in the Appendix of Pennant's Scottish Tour. ' In this engagement, Lochiel himself had several wonderful escapes. In the retreat of the English, one of the strongest and bravest of the oflftcers retired behind a bush, when h& observed Lochiel pursuing, and seeing him unaccompanied with any, he leapt out and thought him his prey. They met one another with equal fury. The combat was long and doubtful : the English gentleman had by far the advantage in strength and size ; but Lochiel, exceeding him in nimbleness and agility, in the end tript the sword out of his hand ; they closed and Avrestled, till both fell to the ground in each other's arms. The English officer got above Lochiel, and pressed him hard, but stretching forth his neck, by attempting to disengage himself, Lochiel, who by this time had .'his hands at liberty, with his left hand seized him by the collar, and jumping at his extended throat, he bit it with his teeth quite through, and kept such a hold of his grasp, that he brought away his mouthful : this, he said, was the svjcetest hit he ever had in his lifetime.'— Vol. i. p. 375. NOTES 227 Note LVII Ye toioers! witliin whose circuit dread A Douglas hij his sovereign hied ; And thou, sad and fatal mound/ That oft hast heard the death-axe sound.— 11. 139. An emiueuce ou the north-east of the Castle, where state crimiiuils were executed. Stirling was often polluted with noble blood. It is thus apostrophised by J. Johnstone : '. . . Discordia tristis Heu quoties procerum sanguine tinxit humuni ! Hoc uno infelix, et felix cetera ; nusquam Lfctior aut cceli frons geuiusve soli.' The fate of William, eighth Earl of Douglas, whom James ii. stabbed in Stirling Castle with his own hand, and while under his royal safe- conduct, is familiar to all who read Scottish history. Murdack, Duke of Albany, Duncan, Earl of Lennox, his father-in-law, and his two sons, Walter and Alexander Stuart, were executed at Stirling, in 1425. They were beheaded upon an eminence without the castle walls, but making part of the same hill, from whence they could behold their strong castle of Doune, and their extensive possessions. This ' heading hill,' as it was sometimes termed, bears commonly the less terrible name of Hurly-hacket, from its having been the scene of a courtly amusement alluded to by Sir David Lindsay, who says of the pastimes in which the young King was engaged, ' Some liarled him to the Hurly-hacket ' ; which consisted in sliding, in some sort of chair, it may be supposed, from top to bottom of a smooth bank. The boys of Edinburgh, about twenty years ago, used to play at the hurly-hacket, on the Calton-hill, using for their seat a horse's skull. Note LVIII Theburghers hold their sports to-day.— i^. 140. Every burgh of Scotland, of the least note, but more especially the considerable towns, had their solemn iJ^ay, or festival, when feats of archery were exhibited, and prizes distributed to those who excelled in Avrestling, hurling the bar, and other gymnastic exercises of the period. Stirling, a usual place of royal residence, was not likely to be deficient in pomp iipou such occasions, especially since James v. was very partial to them. His ready participation in these popular amusements was one cause of his acquiring the title of the King of the Commons, or Bex Plebeiorum, as Lesly has latinised it. The usual prize to the best shooter was a silver arrow. Such a one is preserved at Selkirk and at Peebles. At Dumfries, a silver gun was substituted, and the contention transferred to tire-arms. The ceremony, as there performed, is the subject of an excellent Scottish poem, by Mr. John Mayne, entitled The Siller Gun, 1808, which surpasses the efl'orts of Fergusson, and comes near those of Burns. Of James's attachment to archery, Pitscottie, the faithful though rude recorder of the manners of that period, has given us evidence. 'In this year there came an ambassador out of England, named Lord William Howard, with a bishop with him, with many other gentlemen, to the number of threescore horse, which were all able men and waled [picked] men for all kind of games and pastimes, shooting. 228 THE LADY OF THE LAKE louping, running, wrestling, and casting of the stone, but they were well 'sayed [essayed or tried] ere they passed out of Scotland, and that by their own provocation; but ever they tint; till at last, the Queen of Scotland, the King's mother, favoured the English-men, because she was the King of England's sister : and therefore she took an en- terprise of archery upon the English-men's hands, contrary her sou the king, and any six in Scotland that he would wale, either gentlemen or yeomen, that the English-men should shoot against them either at pricks, ■ revers, or buts, as the Scots pleased. 'The king, hearing this of his mother, was content, and gart her pawn a hundred crowns, and a tun of wine upon the English-men's hands ; and he incontinent laid down as much for the Scottish-men. The field and ground was chosen in St. Andrews, and three landed men and three yeomen chosen to shoot against the English-men, to wit, David Wemyss of that ilk, David Arnot of that ilk, and Mr. John Wedderburn, vicar of Dundee ; the yeomen, John Tliomson, in Leith, Steven Taburner, with a piper, called Alexander Baillie ; they shot very near, and warred [worsted] the English -men of the enterprise, and wan the hundred crowns and the tun of wine, which made the king very merry that his men wan the victory.' — P. 147. Note LIX Robin Hood. — p. 141. The exhibition of this renowned outlaw and his band was a favourite frolic at such festivals as we are describing. Tliis sporting, in which kings did not disdain to be actors, was prohibited m Scotland upon the Ftcformation, by a statute of the sixth Parliament of Queen Mary, c. 61, A.D. 1555, which ordered, under heavy penalties, that, 'na manner of person be chosen Robert Hude, nor Little John, Abbot of Unreason, Queen of May, nor otherwise.' But in 1561, the 'rascal multitude,' says John Knox, 'were stirred up to make a Robin Hude, whilk enormity was of many years left and damned by statute and act of Parliament ; yet would they not be forbidden.' Accordingly they raised a very serious tumult, and at length made prisoners the magistrates who endeavoured to suppress it, and would not release them till they ex- torted a formal promise that no one should be punished for his share of the disturbance. It would seem, from the complaints of the General Assembly of the Kirk, that these profane festivities were continued down to 1592.1 Bold Robin was, to say the least, equally successful in maintaining his ground against the reformed clergy of England : for the simple and evangelical Latimer complains of coming to a country church, where the people refused to hear him, because it was Robin Hood's day ; and his mitre and rochet were fain to give way to the village pastime. Much curious information on this subject may be found in the Preliminary Dissertation to the late Mr. Ritson's edition of the songs respecting this memorable outlaw. The game of Robin Hood was visually acted in May ; and he was associated with the morrice- dancers, on whom so much illustration has been bestowed by the com- mentators on Shakespeare. A very lively picture of these festivities, containing a great deal of curious information on the subject of the private life and amusements of om' ancestors, was thrown, by the late ingenious Mr. Strutt, into his romance entitled Queen-hoo Hall, published after his death, in lb08, 1 Bool: of the Universal KirJc, p. 414. NOTES 229 LX Indifferent as to archer wight, The monarch gave the arrow bright.— i^. 142. The Douglas of the poem is an imaginary person, a supposed uncle of the Earl of Angus. But the king's behaviour during an unexpected interview with the Laird of Kilspindie, one of the banished Douglasses, under circumstances similar to those in the text, is imitated from a real story told by Hume of Godscroft. I would have availed myself more fully of the simple and affecting circumstances of the old history, had they not been already woven into a pathetic ballad by my friend Mr. Finlay.i ' His (the king's) implacability (towards the family of Douglas) did also appear in his carriage towards Archibald of Kilspindie, whom he, when he was a child, loved singularly well for his ability of body, and was wont to call him his Gray-Bteill.'- Archibald, being banished into England, could not well comport with the humour of tliat nation, which he thought to be too proud, and that they had too high a conceit of themselves, joined with a contempt and despising of all others. Wherefore, being wearied of that life, and remembering the king's favour of old towards him, he determined to try the king's mercifulness and clemency. So he comes into Scotland, and taking occasion ot the king's hunting in the park at Stirling, he casts himself to be in his way, as he was coming home to the castle. So soon as the king saw him afar off, ere he came near, he guessed it was he, and said to one of his courtiers, yonder is my Gray-Steill, Archibald of Kilspindie, if he be alive. The other answered, that it could not be he, and that he durst not come into the king's presence. The king approaching, he fell upon his knees and craved pardon, and promised from thenceforward to abstain from meddling in public affairs, and to lead a quiet and private life. The king went by, without giving him any answer, and trotted a good round pace up the hill. Kilspindie followed, and, though he wore on hmi a secret, or shirt of mail, for his particular enemies, was as soon at the castle gate as the king. There he sat him down upon a stone without, and entreated some of the king's servants for a cup of drink, being weary and thirsty ; but they, fearing the king's displeasure, durst give liim none. When the king was set at his dinner, he asked what he had done, what he had said, and whither he had gone? It was told him that he had desired a cup of drink, and had gotten none. The king reproved them very sharply for their discourtesy, and told them, tliat if he had not taken an oath that no Douglas should ever serve him, he would have received him into his service, for he had seen him some- time a man of great ability. Then he sent him word to go to Leith, and expect his further pleasure. Then some kinsmen of David Falconer, the canonier, that was slain at Tantallon, began to quarrel with Archibald about the matter, wherewith the king showed himself not well pleased when he heard of it. Then he commanded him to go to France for a certain space, till he heard further from him. And he did so, and died shortly after. This gave occasion to the king of England (Henry viii) to blame his nephew, alleging the old saying, That a king's iace should give tjrace. For this Archibald (whatsoever were Angus's or Sir George s fault) had not Ijeeu principal actor of any thing, nor no counsellor nor 1 See Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads. Glasgow, 180S, vol. ii. p. 117. .' 2 A champion of popular romance. See Ellis's Romances, vol. in. 230 THE LADY OF THE LAKE stirrer \ip, but only a follower of his friends, and that noways cruelly disposed.' — Hume of Godscroft, ii. 107. Note LXI Prize of the lorestling match, the King To Douglas gave a golden ring. — p. 142, The usual prize of a wrestling was a ram and a ring, but the animal would have embarrassed my story. Thus, in the Cokes Tale of Gamelyn, ascribed to Chaucer : ' There happed to be there beside Tryed a wrestling ; And therefore there was y setten A ram and als a ring.' Again the Litil Geste of Eobin Hood : '. . . By a bridge was a wrestling, And there tarried was he, And there was all the best yeuien •• Of all the west countrey. A full fayre game there was set up, A white bull up y-pight, A greater coiuser with saddle and brydle, With gold burnished full bryght ; A payre of gloves, a red golde ringe, A pipe of wine, good fay ; What man bereth him best, I wis, The prise shall bear away.' Ritson's Rohin Hood, vol. i. Note LXII Tliese drexo not for their fields the sword, Like tenants of a feudal lord, ' Nor own'd the patria/rchal claim Of Chieftain in their leaderrs name; Adventurers they . . . — p. 153. The Scottish armies consisted chiefly of the nobility and barons, with their vassals, who held lauds under them, for military service by them- selves and their tenants. The patriarchal influence exercised by the heads of clans in the Highlands and Borders was of a diflerent nature, and sometimes at variance with feudal principles. It flowed from the Fatria Potestas, exercised by the chieftain as representing the original father of the whole name, and was often obeyed in contradiction to the feudal superior. James v. seems flrst to have introduced, in addition to the militia furnished from these sources, the service of a small number of mercenaries, who formed a body-guard, called the Foot-Band. The satirical poet, Sir David Lindsay (or the person who wrote the prologue to his play of the Three -Estaites), has introduced Finlay of the Foot- Band, who, after much swaggering tipon the stage, is at length put to flight by the Fool, who terrifles him by means of a sheep's skull upon a pole. I have rather chosen to give them the harsh features of the mercenary soldiers of the period, than of this Scottish Thraso. These partook of the character of the Adventurous Companions of Froissart or the Condottieri of Italy. One of the best and liveliest traits of such manners is the last will of a leader, called Geflroy Tete Noir, who having been slightly wounded in a skirmish, his intemperance brought on a mortal disease. When he NOTES 231 found himself dying, ho summoned to his bedside the adventurers whom he commanded, and thus addressed them : — * Fayre sirs, quod Geffray, I knowe well ye have always served and honoured me as men ought to serve their soveraygne and capitayne, and I shal be the gladder if ye wyll agre to have to your capitayne one that is discended of my blode. Beholde here Aleyne Roux, my cosyn, and Peter his brother, who are men of armes and of my blode. I require you to make Aleyne youre capitayne, and to swere to hym faythe, obeysaunce, love, and loyalte, here in my presence, and also to his brother : howe be it, I wyll that Aleyne have the soverayne charge. Sir, quod they, we are well content, for ye hauve ryght well chosen. There all the companyons made them breke no poynt of that ye have ordayned and commaunded.' — Lord Bkrners' Froissart. Note LXIII Get thee an ape and trudge the land, The leader of a juggler hand. — p. 157. The jongleurs, or jugglers, as we learn from the elaborate work of the late Mr. Strutt, on the sports and pastimes of the people of England, used to call in the aid of various assistants, to render these performances as captivating as possible. The glee-maiden was a necessary attendant. Her duty was tumbling and dancing ; and therefore the Anglo-Saxon version of Saint Mark's Gospel states Herodias to have vaulted or tumbled before King Herod. In Scotland, these poor creatures seem, even at a late period, to have been bondswomen to their masters, as appears from a case reported by Fountainhall. ' Reid the mountebank pursues Scot of Harden and his lady, for stealing away from him a little girl, called the tumbling lassie, that danced upon his stage ; and he claimed damages, and produced a contract, whereby he bought her from her mother for £30 Scots. But we have no slaves in Scotland, and mothers cannot sell their bairns ; and physicians attested the employment of tumbling would kill her ; and her joints were now grown stiff, and she declined to return ; though she was at least a 'prentice, and so could not run away from her master ; yet some cited Moses's law, that if a servant shelter himself with thee, against his master's cruelty, thou shalt surely not deliver him up. The Lords, renitente cancellario, assoilzied Harden, on the 27th of January (1687).'— Fountainhall's Decisions, vol. i. p. 439.1 Note LXIV That stirring air that peals on high, O'er Dermid's race our victory, — Strike it! . . .—p. 164. There are several instances, at least in tradition, of persons so much attached to particular tunes, as to require to hear them on their death- bed. Such an anecdote is mentioned by the late Mr. Riddel of Glen- 1 Though less to my purpose, I cannot help noticing a circumstance re- specting another of this Mr. Raid's attendants, which occurred during James 11. '3 zeal for Catholic proselytism, and it is told by Fountainhall, with dry Scottish irony. ^January 17th, 1687. — Reid the mountebank is received into the Popish church, and one of his blackamores was persuaded to accept of baptism from the Popish priests, and to turn Christian Papist : which was a great trophy ; he was called James,- after the king and chancellor, and the Apostle James.'— 7&id, p. 440. 232 THE LADY OF THE LAKE riddel, in his collection of Border tunes, respecting an air called the ' Dandling of the Bairns,' for which a certain Gallovidian laird is said to have evinced this strong mark of partiality. It is popularly told of a famous freebooter, that he composed the tune known by the name of Macpherson's Rant while under sentence of death, and played it at the gallows-tree. Some spirited words have been adapted to it by Burns. A similar story is recounted of a Welsh bard, who composed and played on his death-bed the air called Dofyddy Garregg Wen. But the most curious example is given by Brantome, of a maid of honour at the court of France, entitled. Mademoiselle de Limeuil. ' Durant sa maladie, dont elle trespassa, jamais elle ne cessa, ains causa tousjours ; car elle estoit fort grande parleuse, l)rocardeuse, et tres-bien et fort a propos, et tres- belle avec cela. Quand I'heure de sa fin fut venue, elle tit venir a soy son valet (ainsi que les filles de la cour en out chacune un), qui s'appelloit Julien, et scavoit tres-bien joiier du violon. " Julien," luy dit elle, "prenez vostre violon, et sounez nioy tousjours jusques a ce que yous me voyez morte (car je m'y en vais) la defaite des Suisses, et le mieux que vous pourrez, et quand vous serez sur la mot, "Tout est perdu," sonnez le par quatre ou cing fois, le plus piteusement que vous pourrez," ce qui fit I'autre, et elle-mesme luy aidoit de la voix, et quand ce vint "tout est perdu," elle le reitera par deux fois ; et se tournant de I'autre coste du chevet, elle dit a ses compagnes : " Tout est perdu a ce coup, et a bon escient " ; et ainsi deceda. Voila une mort joyeuse et plaisante._ Je tiens ce conte de deux de ses compagnes, dignes de foi, qui virent jotter ce mystere. '—Ofwrrfs de Brantome, iii. 507. The tune to which this fair lady chose to make her final exit was composed on the defeat of the Swiss at Marignano. The burden is quoted by Panurge, in Rabelais, and consists of these words, imitating the jargon of the Swiss, which is a mixture of French and German : ' Tout est verlore, La Tintelore, Tout est verlore bi Got I' Note LXV Battle of BeaV an Buine.—^. 165. A skirmish actually took place at a pass thus called in the Trosachs, and closed with the remarkable incident mentioned in the text. It was greatly posterior in date to the reign of James v. 'In this roughly-wooded island,^ the country people secreted their wives and children, and their valuable effects, from the rapacity of Cromwell's soldiers, during their inroad into this country in the time of the republic. These invaders, not venturing to ascend by the ladders, along the side of the lake, took a more circuitous road, through the heart of the Trosachs, the most frequented path at that time, which penetrates the wilderness about half way between Binean and the lake, by a tract called Yea-chilleach, or the Old Wife's Bog. ' In one of the defiles of this by-road, the men of the country at that time hung upon the rear of the invading enemy, and shot one of Cromwell's men, whose grave marks the scene of action, and gives name to that pass. In revenge of this insult the soldiers resolved to plunder the island, to violate the women, and put the children to death. With this brutal intention, one of the party, more expert than the rest, »■ That at the eastern extremity of Loch Katrine, so often mentioned in the text. NOTES 233 swam towards the island, to fetch the boat to his comrades, which liad carried the women to their asylum, and lay moored in one of the creeks. His companions stood on the shore of the mainland, in full view of all that was to pass, waiting anxiously for his return with the lioat. But just as the swimmer had got to the nearest point of the island, and was laying hold of a black rock, to get on shore, a heroine, who stood on the very point where he meant to land, hastily snatching a dagger from below her apron, with one stroke severed his head from the body. His party seeing this disaster, and relinquishing all future hope of revenge or conquest, made the best of their way out of their perilous situation. The amazon's great-grandson lives at Bridge of Turk, who, besides others, attests the anecdote.'— ^'/cc^c/i of the Scenery near CallemUr. Stirling, 1806, p. 20. I have only to add to this account, that the heroine's name was Helen Stuart. Note LXVI And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King. — p. 178. This discovery will probably remind the reader of the beautiful Arabian tale of 11 Dondocani. Yet the incident is not borrowed from that elegant story, but from Scottish tradition. James v., of whom we are treating, was a monarch whose good and benevolent intentions often rendered his romantic freaks venial, if not respectable, since, from his anxious attention to the interests of the lower and most oppressed class of his subjects, he was, as we have seen, popularly termed the King of the Commons. For the purpose of seeing that justice was regularly administered, and frequently from the less justifiable motive of gallantry, he used to traverse the vicinage of his several palaces in various disguises. Two excellent comic songs, entitled, ' The Gaberlunzie Man,' and ' We '11 gang nae mair a roving,' are said to have been founded upon the success of his amorous adventures when travelling in the disguise of a beggar. The latter is perhaps the best comic ballad in any language. Another adventure, which had nearly cost James his life, is said to have taken place at the village of Cramond, near Edinburgh, where he had ren- dered his addresses acceptable to a pretty girl of the lower rank. Four or live persons, whether relations or lovers of his mistress is uncertain, beset the disguised monarch, as he returned from his rendezvous. Naturally gallant, and an admirable master of his weapon, the king took post on the high and narrow bridge over the Almond river, and defended himself bravely with his sword. A peasant, who was thrashing in a neighbouring barn, came out upon the noise, and, whether moved by compassion or by natural gallantry, took the weaker side, and Laid about with his fiail so effec- tually, as to disperse the assailants, well threshed, even according to the letter. He then conducted the king into his barn, where his guest re(iuested a basin and a towel, to remove the stains of the broil. This being procured with difficulty, James employed himself in learning what was the summit of his deliverer's earthly wishes, and found that they were bounded by the desire of possessing, in property, the farm of Braehead, upon which he laboured as a bondsman. The lands chanced to belong to the crown ; and James directed him to come to the palace of Holyrood, and inquire for the Guidman {i.e. farmer) of Ballengeich, a name by which he was known in his excursions, and which answered to the II Bondoeani of Haroun Alraschid. He presented himself accordingly, and found, with due astonishment, that he had saved his monarch's life, and that he was to be gratified with a crown-charter of the lauds of Braehead, under the Q 234 THE LADY OF THE LAKE service of presenting a ewer, basin, and towel, for the king to wash his hands, when lie shall happen to pass the bridge of Cramond. This person was ancestor of the Howisons of Braehead, in Mid-Lothian, a respectable family, Avho continue to hold the lands (now passed into the female line) under the same tenure. Another of James's frolics is thus narrated by Mr. Campbell, from the Statistical Account : ' Being once benighted when out a-huuting, and separated from his attendants, he happened to enter a cottage in the midst of a moor, at the foot of the Ochil hills, near Alloa, where, unknown, he was kindly received. In order to regale their unexpected guest, the gudeman {i.e. landlord, farmer) desired the gudeivife to fetch the hen that roosted nearest the cock, which is always the plumpest, for the stranger's supper. The king, highly pleased with his night's lodging and hospitable entertainment, told mine host, at parting, that he should be glad to return his civility, and requested that the first time he came to Stirling he would call at the castle, and inquire for the Gudevian of Ballenguich. Donaldson, the landlord, did not fail to call on the Gudeman of Bcdlenguich, when his astonishment at finding that the king had been his guest aff"orded no small amusement to the merry monarch and his courtiers ; and, to carry on the pleasantry, he was thenceforth designated by James with the title of King of the Moors, which name and designation have descended from father to son ever since, and they have continued in possession of the identical spot, the property of Mr. Erskine of Mar, till very lately, when this gentleman, with reluctance, turned out the descendant and representative of the King of the Moors, on account of his majesty's invincible indolence, and great dislike to reform or innova- tion of any kind, although, from the spirited example of his neighbour tenants on the same estate, he is convinced similar exertion would pro- mote his advantage.' The author requests permission yet farther to verify the subject of his poem, by an extract from the genealogical work of Buchanan of Auchmar. upon Scottish surnames. ' This John Buchanan of Auchmar and Arnpryor was afterwards termed King of Kippen, upon the following account: King James v., a very sociable, debonair prince, residing at Stirling, in Buchanan of Arnpryor's time, carriers were very fre([uently passing along the common road, being near Arnpryor's house, with necessaries for the use of the king's family ; and he having some extraordinary occasion, ordered one of these carriers to leave his load at his house, and he would pay him for it ; wluch the carrier refused to do, telling him be was the king's carrier, and his load for his majesty's use ; to which Arnpryor seemed to have small regard, compelling the carrier, in the end, to leave his load ; telling him, if King James was King of Scotland, he was King of Kippen, so that it was reasonable he should share with his neighbour king in some of these loads, so frequently earned that road. The carrier representing this usage, and telling the story, as Arnpryor spoke it, to some of the king's servants, it came at length to his majesty's ears, who, shortly thereafter, with a few attendants, came to visit his neighbour king, who was in the meantime at dinner. King James, having sent a servant to demand access, was denied the same by a tall fellow Avith a battle-axe, who stood porter at the gate, telling, there could be no access till dinner was over. This answer not satisfying the king, he sent to demand access a second time ; upon which he was desired by the porter to desist, otherwise he would find cause to repent his rudeness. His majesty finding this method would not do, desired the porter to tell his NOTES 235 master that the Goodman of Ballnageigh desired to speak with the King of Kippen. The porter telling Arnpryor so much, he, in all humble manner, came and received the king, and having entertained him with much sumptuousness and jollity, became so agreeable to King James, that he allowed him to take so much of any provision he found carrying that road as he had occasion for; and seeing he made the first visit^ desired Arnpryor in a few days to return him a second to Stirling, which he performed, and continued in very much favour with the king, always thereafter being termed King of Kippen while he lived.'— Buchanan's Essay upon the Family of Buchanan. Edin., 1775, 8vo, p. 74. The readers of Ariosto must give credit for the amiable features with Avhich he is represented, since he is generally considered as the prototype of Zerbino, the most interesting hero of the Orlando Furioso. Note LXVII . . . Stirling's tower Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims. — p. 180. William of Worcester, who wrote about the middle of the fifteenth century, calls Stirling Castle, Snoudoun. Sir David Lindsay bestows the same epithet upon it in his Comjilaint of the Fapingo: 'Adieu, fair Snawdoun, with thy towers high, Thy chapel-ioyal, park, and table round ; May, June, and July, woukl I dwell in thee, Were I a man, to hear the birdis sound, Whilk doth againe thy royal rock rebound.' Mr. Chalmers, in his late excellent edition of Sir David Lindsay's works, has refuted the chimerical derivation of Snawdoun from snedding, or cutting. It was probably derived from the romantic legend which connected Stirling with King Arthur, to which the mention of the Round Table gives countenance. The ring within which jousts were formerly practised, in the castle park, is still called the Round Table. Snawdoun is the official title of one of the Scottish heralds, whose epithets seem in all countries to have been fantastically adopted from ancient history or romance. It appears from the preceding note, that the real name by which James was actually distinguished in his private excursions, was the Goodman of Ballenguich; derived from a steep pass leading up to the Castle of Stirling, so called. But the epithet would not have suited poetry, and would besides at once, and prematurely, have announced the plot to many of my countrymen, among whom the traditional stories above mentioned are still current. Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press RETURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT TO— ^ 202 Main Library LOAN PERIOD 1 HOME USE 2 3 4 5 6 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTJEI17„PAYS l-month foans may be renewed by calfng 642-3405 l.yea' 'oans may be recharged by bringing the books to the G rculat.on Des^ Rer>ewa:s and recharges may be made 4 days orior to cue date DUE AS STAMPED BELOW c--- •->'.' ic^es FEB 2?j1985 RLC.Cm. FEB'^^'S^ APRl* ZQ07 FORM NO. 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