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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lady of the Lake, by Sir Walter Scott
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Lady of the Lake
+
+Author: Sir Walter Scott
+
+Editor: William Vaughn Moody
+
+Release Date: March 9, 2009 [EBook #28287]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY OF THE LAKE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Brian Sogard, storm and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Obvious mistakes and punctuation errors have been corrected, but
+inconsistent spelling, punctuation and hyphenation has been retained.
+At the end of the text there is a list of the corrections that were
+made.
+
+Italic text is represented by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal
+signs=.
+
+The footnotes in the introduction have been moved to the end of their
+respective paragraphs, and have been renumbered for clarity.]
+
+
+The Lake English Classics
+
+_REVISED EDITION WITH HELPS TO STUDY_
+
+THE
+LADY OF THE LAKE
+
+BY
+
+SIR WALTER SCOTT
+
+EDITED FOR SCHOOL USE
+
+BY
+
+WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY
+
+SOMETIME ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH
+THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO
+
+
+SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY
+CHICAGO     ATLANTA     NEW YORK
+
+
+Copyright 1899, 1919
+By Scott, Foresman and Company
+
+292.46
+
+
+[Illustration: THE SCENE OF "THE LADY OF THE LAKE"]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                 PAGE
+Map                                                 6
+
+Introduction
+
+    I. Life of Scott                                9
+
+   II. Scott's Place in the Romantic Movement      39
+
+  III. The Lady of the Lake
+
+           Historical Setting                      46
+
+           General Criticism and Analysis          48
+
+Text                                               59
+
+Notes                                             251
+
+Appendix
+
+  Helps to Study                                  265
+
+  Theme Subjects                                  269
+
+  Selections for Class Reading                    270
+
+  Classes of Poetry                               271
+
+
+
+
+I. LIFE OF SCOTT
+
+
+I
+
+Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, August 15, 1771, of an ancient
+Scotch clan numbering in its time many a hard rider and good fighter,
+and more than one of these petty chieftains, half-shepherd and
+half-robber, who made good the winter inroads into their stock of beeves
+by spring forays and cattle drives across the English Border. Scott's
+great-grandfather was the famous "Beardie" of Harden, so called because
+after the exile of the Stuart sovereigns he swore never to cut his beard
+until they were reinstated; and several degrees farther back he could
+point to a still more famous figure, "Auld Wat of Harden," who with his
+fair dame, the "Flower of Yarrow," is mentioned in _The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel_. The first member of the clan to abandon country life and take
+up a sedentary profession, was Scott's father, who settled in Edinburgh
+as Writer to the Signet, a position corresponding in Scotland to that of
+attorney or solicitor in England. The character of this father, stern,
+scrupulous, Calvinistic, with a high sense of ceremonial dignity and a
+punctilious regard for the honorable conventions of life, united with
+the wilder ancestral strain to make Scott what he was. From "Auld Wat"
+and "Beardie" came his high spirit, his rugged manliness, his chivalric
+ideals; from the Writer to the Signet came that power of methodical
+labor which made him a giant among the literary workers of his day, and
+that delicate sense of responsibility which gave his private life its
+remarkable sweetness and beauty.
+
+At the age of eighteen months, Scott was seized with a teething fever
+which settled in his right leg and retarded its growth to such an extent
+that he was slightly lame for the rest of his life. Possibly this
+affliction was a blessing in disguise, since it is not improbable that
+Scott's love of active adventure would have led him into the army or the
+navy, if he had not been deterred by a bodily impediment; in which case
+English history might have been a gainer, but English literature would
+certainly have been immeasurably a loser. In spite of his lameness, the
+child grew strong enough to be sent on a long visit to his grandfather's
+farm at Sandyknowe; and here, lying among the sheep on the windy downs,
+playing about the romantic ruins of Smailholm Tower,[1] scampering
+through the heather on a tiny Shetland pony, or listening to stories of
+the thrilling past told by the old women of the farm, he drank in
+sensations which strengthened both the hardiness and the romanticism of
+his nature. A story is told of his being found in the fields during a
+thunder storm, clapping his hands at each flash of lightning, and
+shouting "Bonny! Bonny!"--a bit of infantile intrepidity which makes
+more acceptable a story of another sort illustrative of his mental
+precocity. A lady entering his mother's room found him reading aloud a
+description of a shipwreck, accompanying the words with excited comments
+and gestures. "There's the mast gone," he cried, "crash it goes; they
+will all perish!" The lady entered into his agitation with tact, and on
+her departure, he told his mother that he liked their visitor, because
+"she was a virtuoso, like himself." To her amused inquiry as to what a
+virtuoso might be, he replied: "Don't ye know? why, 'tis one who wishes
+to and will know everything."
+
+[Footnote: 1 See Scott's ballad "The Eve of St. John."]
+
+As a boy at school in Edinburgh and in Kelso, and afterwards as a
+student at the University and apprentice in his father's law office,
+Scott took his own way to become a "virtuoso"; a rather queer way it
+must sometimes have seemed to his good preceptors. He refused
+point-blank to learn Greek, and cared little for Latin. His scholarship
+was so erratic that he glanced meteor-like from the head to the foot of
+his classes and back again, according as luck gave or withheld the
+question to which his highly selective memory had retained the answer.
+But outside of school hours he was intensely at work to "know
+everything," so far as "everything" came within the bounds of his
+special tastes. Before he was ten years old he had begun to collect
+chap-books and ballads. As he grew older he read omnivorously in romance
+and history; at school he learned French for the sole purpose of knowing
+at first hand the fascinating cycles of old French romance; a little
+later he mastered Italian in order to read Dante and Ariosto, and to his
+schoolmaster's indignation stoutly championed the claim of the latter
+poet to superiority over Homer; a little later he acquired Spanish and
+read _Don Quixote_ in the original. With such efforts, however,
+considerable as they were for a boy who passionately loved a "bicker" in
+the streets and who was famed among his comrades for bravery in climbing
+the perilous "kittle nine stanes" on Castle Rock, he was not content.
+Nothing more conclusively shows the genuineness of Scott's romantic
+feeling than his willingness to undergo severe mental drudgery in
+pursuit of knowledge concerning the old storied days which had
+enthralled his imagination. It was no moonshine sentimentality which
+kept him hour after hour and day after day in the Advocate's Library,
+poring over musty manuscripts, deciphering heraldic devices, tracing
+genealogies, and unraveling obscure points of Scottish history. By the
+time he was twenty-one he had made himself, almost unconsciously, an
+expert paleographer and antiquarian, whose assistance was sought by
+professional workers in those branches of knowledge. Carlyle has charged
+against Scott that he poured out his vast floods of poetry and romance
+without preparation or forethought; that his production was always
+impromptu, and rooted in no sufficient past of acquisition. The charge
+cannot stand. From his earliest boyhood until his thirtieth year, when
+he began his brilliant career as poet and novelist, his life was one
+long preparation--very individual and erratic preparation, perhaps, but
+none the less earnest and fruitful.
+
+In 1792, Scott, then twenty-one years old, was admitted a member of the
+faculty of advocates of Edinburgh. During the five years which elapsed
+between this date and his marriage, his life was full to overflowing of
+fun and adventure, rich with genial companionship, and with experience
+of human nature in all its wild and tame varieties. Ostensibly he was a
+student of law, and he did, indeed, devote some serious attention to the
+mastery of his profession. But the dry formalities of legal life his
+keen humor would not allow him to take quite seriously. On the day when
+he was called to the bar, while waiting his turn among the other young
+advocates, he turned to his friend, William Clark, who had been called
+with him, and whispered, mimicking the Highland lasses who used to stand
+at the Cross of Edinburgh to be hired for the harvest: "We've stood here
+an hour by the Tron, hinny, and deil a ane has speered[2] our price."
+Though Scott never made a legal reputation, either as pleader at the
+bar or as an authority upon legal history and principles, it cannot be
+doubted that his experience in the Edinburgh courts was of immense
+benefit to him. In the first place, his study of the Scotch statutes,
+statutes which had taken form very gradually under the pressure of
+changing national conditions, gave him an insight into the politics and
+society of the past not otherwise to have been obtained. Of still more
+value, perhaps, was the association with his young companions in the
+profession, and daily contact with the racy personalities which
+traditionally haunt all courts of law, and particularly Scotch courts of
+law: the first association kept him from the affectation and
+sentimentality which is the bane of the youthful romanticist; and the
+second enriched his memory with many an odd figure afterward to take its
+place, clothed in the colors of a great dramatic imagination, upon the
+stage of his stories.
+
+[Footnote 2: Asked.]
+
+Added to these experiences, there were others equally calculated to
+enlarge his conception of human nature. Not the least among these he
+found in the brilliant literary and artistic society of Edinburgh, to
+which his mother's social position gave him entrance. Here, when only a
+lad, he met Robert Burns, then the pet and idol of the fashionable
+coteries of the capital. Here he heard Henry Mackenzie deliver a lecture
+on German literature which turned his attention to the romantic poetry
+of Germany and led directly to his first attempts at ballad-writing. But
+much more vital than any or all of these influences, were those endless
+walking-tours which alone or in company with a boon companion he took
+over the neighboring country-side--care-free, roystering expeditions,
+which he afterwards immortalized as Dandie Dinmont's "Liddesdale raids"
+in _Guy Mannering_. Thirty miles across country as the crow flies, with
+no objective point and no errand, a village inn or a shepherd's hut at
+night, with a crone to sing them an old ballad over the fire, or a group
+of hardy dalesmen to welcome them with stories and carousal--these were
+blithe adventurous days such as could not fail to ripen Scott's already
+ardent nature, and store his memory with genial knowledge. The account
+of Dandie Dinmont given by Mr. Shortreed may be taken as a picture, only
+too true in some of its touches, of Scott in these youthful escapades:
+"Eh me, ... sic an endless fund of humor and drollery as he had then wi'
+him. Never ten yards but we were either laughing or roaring and singing.
+Wherever we stopped how brawlie he suited himsel' to everybody! He aye
+did as the lave did; never made himsel' the great man or took ony airs
+in the company. I've seen him in a' moods in these jaunts, grave and
+gay, daft and serious, sober and drunk--(this, however, even in our
+wildest rambles, was but rare)--but drunk or sober, he was aye the
+gentleman. He looked excessively heavy and stupid when he was fou, but
+he was never out o' gude humor." After this, we are not surprised to
+hear that Scott's father told him disgustedly that he was better fitted
+to be a fiddling peddler, a "gangrel scrape-gut," than a respectable
+attorney. As a matter of fact, however, behind the mad pranks and the
+occasional excesses there was a very serious purpose in all this
+scouring of the country-side. Scott was picking up here and there, from
+the old men and women with whom he hobnobbed, antiquarian material of an
+invaluable kind, bits of local history, immemorial traditions and
+superstitions, and, above all, precious ballads which had been handed
+down for generations among the peasantry. These ballads, thus
+precariously transmitted, it was Scott's ambition to gather together and
+preserve, and he spared no pains or fatigue to come at any scrap of
+ballad literature of whose existence he had an inkling. Meanwhile, he
+was enriching heart and imagination for the work that was before him. So
+that here also, though in the hair-brained and heady way of youth, he
+was engaged in his task of preparation.
+
+Scott has told us that it was his reading of _Don Quixote_ which
+determined him to be an author, but he was first actually excited to
+composition in another way. This was by hearing recited a ballad of the
+German poet Bürger, entitled _Lenore_, in which a skeleton lover carries
+off his bride to a wedding in the land of death. Mr. Hutton remarks
+upon the curiousness of the fact that a piece of "raw supernaturalism"
+like this should have appealed so strongly to a mind as healthy and sane
+as Scott's. So it was, however. He could not rid himself of the
+fascination of the piece until he had translated it, and published it,
+together with another translation from the same author. One stanza at
+least of this first effort of Scott sounds a note characteristic of his
+poetry:
+
+  Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,
+  Splash! splash! along the sea;
+  The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,
+  The flashing pebbles flee.
+
+Here we catch the trumpet-like clang and staccato tramp of verse which
+he was soon to use in a way to thrill his generation. This tiny pamphlet
+of verse, Scott's earliest publication, appeared in 1796. Soon after, he
+met Monk Lewis, then famous as a purveyor to English palates of the
+crude horrors which German romanticism had just ceased to revel in.
+Lewis was engaged in compiling a book of supernatural stories and poems
+under the title of _Tales of Wonder_, and asked Scott to contribute.
+Scott wrote for this book three long ballads--"Glenfinlas," "Cadyow
+Castle," and "The Gray Brother." Though tainted with the conventional
+diction of eighteenth century verse, these ballads are not unimpressive
+pieces of work; the second named, especially, shows a kind and degree of
+romantic imagination such as his later poetry rather substantiated than
+newly revealed.
+
+
+II
+
+In the following year, 1797, Scott married a Miss Charpentier, daughter
+of a French refugee. She was not his first love, that place having been
+usurped by a Miss Stuart Belches, for whom Scott had felt perhaps the
+only deep passion of his life, and memory of whom was to come to the
+surface touchingly in his old age. Miss Charpentier, or Carpenter, as
+she was called, with her vivacity and quaint foreign speech "caught his
+heart on the rebound"; there can be no doubt that, in spite of a certain
+shallowness of character, she made him a good wife, and that his
+affection for her deepened steadily to the end. The young couple went to
+live at Lasswade, a village near Edinburgh, on the Esk. Scott, in whom
+the proprietary instinct was always very strong, took great pride in the
+pretty little cottage. He made a dining-table for it with his own hands,
+planted saplings in the yard, and drew together two willow-trees at the
+gate into a kind of arch, surmounted by a cross made of two sticks.
+"After I had constructed this," he says, "mamma (Mrs. Scott) and I both
+of us thought it so fine that we turned out to see it by moonlight, and
+walked backwards from it to the cottage door, in admiration of our
+magnificence and its picturesque effect." It would have been well
+indeed for them both if their pleasures of proprietorship could always
+have remained so touchingly simple.
+
+Now that he was married, Scott was forced to look a little more sharply
+to his fortunes. He applied himself with more determination to the law.
+In 1799 he became deputy-sheriff of Selkirkshire, with a salary of three
+hundred pounds, which placed him at least beyond the reach of want. He
+began to look more and more to literature as a means of supplementing
+his income. His ballads in the _Tales of Wonder_ had gained him some
+reputation; this he increased in 1802 by the publication, under the
+title _Border Minstrelsy_, of the ballads which he had for several years
+been collecting, collating, and richly annotating. Meanwhile he was
+looking about for a congenial subject upon which to try his hand in a
+larger way than he had as yet adventured. Such a subject came to him at
+last in a manner calculated to enlist all his enthusiasm in its
+treatment, for it was given him by the Countess of Dalkeith, wife of the
+heir-apparent to the dukedom of Buccleugh. The ducal house of Buccleugh
+stood at the head of the clan Scott, and toward its representative the
+poet always held himself in an attitude of feudal reverence. The Duke of
+Buccleugh was his "chief," entitled to demand from him both passive
+loyalty and active service; so, at least, Scott loved to interpret their
+relationship, making effective in his own case a feudal sentiment which
+had elsewhere somewhat lapsed. He especially loved to think of himself
+as the bard of his clan, a modern representative of those rude poets
+whom the Scottish chiefs once kept as a part of their household to chant
+the exploits of the clan. Nothing could have pleased his fancy more,
+therefore, than a request on the part of the lady of his chief to treat
+a subject of her assigning--namely, the dark mischief-making of a dwarf
+or goblin who had strayed from his unearthly master and attached himself
+as page to a human household. The subject fell in with the poet's
+reigning taste for strong supernaturalism. Gilpin Horner, the goblin
+page, though he proved in the sequel a difficult character to put to
+poetic use, was a figure grotesque and eerie enough to appeal even to
+Monk Lewis. At first Scott thought of treating the subject in
+ballad-form, but the scope of treatment was gradually enlarged by
+several circumstances. To begin with, he chanced upon a copy of Goethe's
+_Götz von Berlichingen_, and the history of that robber baron suggested
+to him the feasibility of throwing the same vivid light upon the old
+Border life of his ancestors as Goethe had thrown upon that of the Rhine
+barons. This led him to subordinate the part played by the goblin page
+in the proposed story, which was now widened to include elaborate
+pictures of medieval life and manners, and to lay the scene in the
+castle of Branksome, formerly the stronghold of Scott's and the Duke of
+Buccleugh's ancestors. The verse form into which the story was thrown
+was due to a still more accidental circumstance, i.e., Scott's
+overhearing Sir John Stoddard recite a fragment of Coleridge's
+unpublished poem "Christabel." The placing of the story in the mouth of
+an old harper fallen upon evil days, was a happy afterthought; besides
+making a beautiful framework for the main poem, it enabled the author to
+escape criticism for any violent innovations of style, since these could
+always be attributed to the rude and wild school of poetry to which the
+harper was supposed to belong. In these ways _The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel_ gradually developed in its present form. Upon its publication
+in 1805, it achieved an immediate success. The vividness of its
+descriptive passages, the buoyant rush of its meter, the deep romantic
+glow suffusing all its pages, took by storm a public familiar to
+weariness with the decorous abstractions of the eighteenth century
+poets. The first edition, a sumptuous quarto, was exhausted in a few
+weeks; an octavo edition of fifteen hundred was sold out within the
+year; and before 1830, forty-four thousand copies were needed to supply
+the popular demand. Scott received in all something under eight hundred
+pounds for the _Lay_, a small amount when contrasted with his gains from
+subsequent poems, but a sum so unusual nevertheless that he determined
+forthwith to devote as much time to literature as he could spare from
+his legal duties; those he still placed foremost, for until near the
+close of his life he clung to his adage that literature was "a good
+staff, but a poor crutch."
+
+A year before the publication of the _Lay_, Scott had removed to the
+small country seat of Ashestiel, in Selkirkshire, seven miles from the
+nearest town, Selkirk, and several miles from any neighbor. In the
+introductions to the various cantos of _Marmion_ he has given us a
+delightful picture of Ashestiel and its surroundings--the swift
+Glenkinnon dashing through the estate in a deep ravine, on its way to
+join the Tweed; behind the house the rising hills beyond which lay the
+lovely scenery of the Yarrow. The eight years (1804-1812) at Ashestiel
+were the serenest, and probably the happiest, of Scott's life. Here he
+wrote his two greatest poems, _Marmion_ and _The Lady of the Lake_. His
+mornings he spent at his desk, always with a faithful hound at his feet
+watching the tireless hand as it threw off sheet after sheet of
+manuscript to make up the day's stint. By one o'clock he was, as he
+said, "his own man," free to spend the remaining hours of light with his
+children, his horses, and his dogs, or to indulge himself in his
+life-long passion for tree-planting. His robust and healthy nature made
+him excessively fond of all out-of-door sports, especially riding, in
+which he was daring to foolhardiness. It is a curious fact, noted by
+Lockhart, that many of Scott's senses were blunt; he could scarcely,
+for instance, tell one wine from another by the taste, and once sat
+quite unconscious at his table while his guests were manifesting extreme
+uneasiness over the approach of a too-long-kept haunch of venison, but
+his sight was unusually keen, as his hunting exploits proved. His little
+son once explained his father's popularity by saying that "it was him
+that commonly saw the hare sitting." What with hunting, fishing,
+salmon-spearing by torchlight, gallops over the hills into the Yarrow
+country, planting and transplanting of his beloved trees, Scott's life
+at Ashestiel, during the hours when he was "his own man," was a very
+full and happy one.
+
+Unfortunately, he had already embarked in an enterprise which was
+destined to overthrow his fortunes just when they seemed fairest. While
+at school in Kelso he had become intimate with a school fellow named
+James Ballantyne, and later, when Ballantyne set up a small printing
+house in Kelso, he had given him his earliest poems to print. After the
+issue of the _Border Minstrelsy_, the typographical excellence of which
+attracted attention even in London, he set Ballantyne up in business in
+Edinburgh, secretly entering the firm himself as silent partner. The
+good sale of the _Lay_ had given the firm an excellent start; but more
+matter was presently needed to feed the press. To supply it, Scott
+undertook and completed at Ashestiel four enormous tasks of
+editing--the complete works of Dryden and of Swift, the Somers' Tracts,
+and the Sadler State Papers. The success of these editions, and the
+subsequent enormous sale of Scott's poems and novels, would have kept
+the concern solvent in spite of Ballantyne's complete incapacity for
+business, but in 1809 Scott plunged recklessly into another and more
+serious venture. A dispute with Constable, the veteran publisher and
+bookseller, aggravated by the harsh criticism delivered upon _Marmion_
+by Francis Jeffrey, editor of the _Edinburgh Review_, Constable's
+magazine, determined Scott to set up in connection with the Ballantyne
+press a rival bookselling concern, and a rival magazine, to be called
+the _Quarterly Review_. The project was a daring one, in view of
+Constable's great ability and resources; to make it foolhardy to madness
+Scott selected to manage the new business a brother of James Ballantyne,
+a dissipated little buffoon, with about as much business ability and
+general caliber of character as is connoted by the name which Scott
+coined for him, "Rigdumfunnidos." The selection of such a man for such a
+place betrays in Scott's eminently sane and balanced mind a curious
+strain of impracticality, to say the least; indeed, we are almost
+constrained to feel with his harsher critics that it betrays something
+worse than defective judgment--defective character. His greatest
+failing, if failing it can be called, was pride. He could not endure
+even the mild dictations of a competent publisher, as is shown by his
+answer to a letter written by one of them proposing some salaried work;
+he replied curtly that he was a "black Hussar" of literature, and not to
+be put to such tame service. Probably this haughty dislike of dictation,
+this imperious desire to patronize rather than be patronized, led him to
+choose inferior men with whom to enter into business relations. If so,
+he paid for the fault so dearly that it is hard for a biographer to
+press the issue against him.
+
+For the present, however, the wind of fortune was blowing fair, and all
+the storm clouds were below the horizon. In 1808 _Marmion_ appeared, and
+was greeted with an enthusiasm which made the unprecedented reception of
+the _Lay_ seem lukewarm in comparison. _Marmion_ contains nothing which
+was not plainly foreshadowed in the _Lay_, but the hand of the poet has
+grown more sure, his descriptive effects are less crude and amateurish,
+the narrative proceeds with a steadier march, the music has gained in
+volume and in martial vigor. An anecdote is told by Mr. Hutton which
+will serve as a type of a hundred others illustrative of the
+extraordinary hold which this poetry took upon the minds of ordinary
+men. "I have heard," he says, "of two old men--complete
+strangers--passing each other on a dark London night, when one of them
+happened to be repeating to himself, just as Campbell did to the
+hackney coachman of the North Bridge of Edinburgh, the last lines of the
+account of Flodden Field in _Marmion_, 'Charge, Chester, charge,' when
+suddenly a reply came out of the darkness, 'On, Stanley, on,' whereupon
+they finished the death of _Marmion_ between them, took off their hats
+to each other, and parted, laughing." _The Lady of the Lake_, which
+followed in little more than a year, was received with the same popular
+delight, and with even greater respect on the part of the critics. Even
+the formidable Jeffrey, who was supposed to dine off slaughtered authors
+as the Giant in "Jack and the Beanstalk" dined off young Englishmen,
+keyed his voice to unwonted praise. The influx of tourists into the
+Trossachs, where the scene of the poem was laid, was so great as
+seriously to embarrass the mail coaches, until at last the posting
+charges had to be raised in order to diminish the traffic. Far away in
+Spain, at a trying moment of the Peninsular campaign, Sir Adam Ferguson,
+posted on a point of ground exposed to the enemy's fire, read to his men
+as they lay prostrate on the ground the passage from _The Lady of the
+Lake_ describing the combat between Roderick Dhu's Highlanders and the
+forces of the Earl of Mar; and "the listening soldiers only interrupted
+him by a joyous huzza when the French shot struck the bank close above
+them." Such tributes--and they were legion--to the power of his poetry
+to move adventurous and hardy men, must have been intoxicating to
+Scott; there is small wonder that the success of his poems gave him, as
+he says, "such a _heeze_ as almost lifted him off his feet."
+
+
+III
+
+Scott's modesty was not in danger, but so far as his prudence was
+concerned, his success did really lift him off his feet. In 1812, still
+more encouraged thereto by entering upon the emoluments of the office of
+Clerk of Sessions, the duties of which he had performed for six years
+without pay, he purchased Abbotsford, an estate on the Tweed, adjoining
+that of the Duke of Buccleugh, his kinsman, and near the beautiful ruins
+of Melrose Abbey. Here he began to carry out the dream of his life, to
+found a territorial family which should augment the power and fame of
+his clan. Beginning with a modest farm house and a farm of a hundred
+acres, he gradually bought, planted, and built, until the farm became a
+manorial domain and the farm house a castle. He had not gone far in this
+work before he began to realize that the returns from his poetry would
+never suffice to meet such demands as would thus be made upon his purse.
+Byron's star was in the ascendant, and before its baleful magnificence
+Scott's milder and more genial light visibly paled. He was himself the
+first to declare, with characteristic generosity, that the younger poet
+had "bet"[3] him at his own craft. As Carlyle says, "he had held the
+sovereignty for some half-score of years, a comparatively long lease of
+it, and now the time seemed come for dethronement, for abdication. An
+unpleasant business; which, however, he held himself ready, as a brave
+man will, to transact with composure and in silence."
+
+[Footnote 3: Bested, got the better of.]
+
+But, as it proved, there was no need for resignation. The reign of
+metrical romance, brilliant but brief, was past, or nearly so. But what
+of prose romance, which long ago, in picking out _Don Quixote_ from the
+puzzling Spanish, he had promised himself he would one day attempt? With
+some such questioning of the Fates, Scott drew from his desk the sheets
+of a story begun seven years before, and abandoned because of the
+success of _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_. This story he now completed,
+and published as _Waverley_ in the spring of 1814--an event "memorable
+in the annals of British literature; in the annals of British
+bookselling thrice and four times memorable." The popularity of the
+metrical romances dwindled to insignificance before the enthusiasm with
+which this prose romance was received. A moment before quietly resolved
+to give up his place in the world's eye, and to live the life of an
+obscure country gentleman, Scott found himself launched once more on the
+tide of brave fortunes. The Ballantyne publishing and printing houses
+ceased to totter, and settled themselves on what seemed the firmest of
+foundations. At Abbotsford, buying, planting, and building began on a
+greater scale than had ever been planned in its owner's most sanguine
+moments.
+
+The history of the next eleven years in Scott's life is the history, on
+the one hand, of the rapidly-appearing novels, of a fame gradually
+spreading outward from Great Britain until it covered the civilized
+world--a fame increased rather than diminished by the _incognito_ which
+the "author of _Waverley_" took great pains to preserve even after the
+secret had become an open one; on the other hand, of the large-hearted,
+hospitable life at Abbotsford, where, in spite of the importunities of
+curious and ill-bred tourists, bent on getting a glimpse of the "Wizard
+of the North," and in spite of the enormous mass of work, literary and
+official, which Scott took upon himself to perform, the atmosphere of
+country leisure and merriment was somehow miraculously preserved. This
+life of the hearty prosperous country laird was the one toward the
+realization of which all Scott's efforts were directed; it is worth
+while, therefore, to see as vividly as may be, what kind of life that
+was, that we may the better understand what kind of man he was who cared
+for it. The following extract from Lockhart's _Life of Scott_ gives us
+at least one very characteristic aspect of the Abbotsford world:
+
+     "It was a clear, bright September morning, with a sharpness in the
+     air that doubled the animating influence of the sunshine; and all
+     was in readiness for a grand coursing-match on Newark Hill. The
+     only guest who had chalked out other sport for himself was the
+     staunchest of anglers, Mr. Rose; but he, too, was there on his
+     _shelty_, armed with his salmon-rod and landing-net.... This little
+     group of Waltonians, bound for Lord Somerville's preserve, remained
+     lounging about, to witness the start of the main cavalcade. Sir
+     Walter, mounted on Sibyl, was marshalling the order of procession
+     with a huge hunting-whip; and among a dozen frolicsome youths and
+     maidens, who seemed disposed to laugh at all discipline, appeared,
+     each on horseback, each as eager as the youngest sportsman in the
+     troop, Sir Humphrey Davy, Dr. Wollaston, and the patriarch of
+     Scottish belles-lettres, Henry Mackenzie.... Laidlow (the steward
+     of Abbotsford) on a strong-tailed wiry Highlander, yclept Hoddin
+     Grey, which carried him nimbly and stoutly, although his feet
+     almost touched the ground, was the adjutant. But the most
+     picturesque figure was the illustrious inventor of the safety-lamp
+     (Sir Humphrey Davy) ... a brown hat with flexible brim, surrounded
+     with line upon line of catgut, and innumerable fly-hooks; jackboots
+     worthy of a Dutch smuggler, and a fustian surtout dabbled with the
+     blood of salmon, made a fine contrast with the smart jacket,
+     white-cord breeches, and well-polished jockey-boots of the less
+     distinguished cavaliers about him. Dr. Wollaston was in black; and
+     with his noble serene dignity of countenance might have passed for
+     a sporting archbishop. Mr. Mackenzie, at this time in the
+     seventy-sixth year of his age, with a hat turned up with green,
+     green spectacles, green jacket, and long brown leathern gaiters
+     buttoned upon his nether anatomy, wore a dog-whistle round his
+     neck.... Tom Purdie (one of Scott's servants) and his subalterns
+     had preceded us by a few hours with all the grey-hounds that could
+     be collected at Abbotsford, Darnick, and Melrose; but the giant
+     Maida had remained as his master's orderly, and now gamboled about
+     Sibyl Grey barking for mere joy like a spaniel puppy.
+
+     "The order of march had all been settled, when Scott's daughter
+     Anne broke from the line, screaming with laughter, and exclaimed,
+     'Papa, papa, I knew you could never think of going without your
+     pet!' Scott looked round, and I rather think there was a blush as
+     well as a smile upon his face, when he perceived a little black pig
+     frisking about his pony, evidently a self-elected addition to the
+     party of the day. He tried to look stern, and cracked his whip at
+     the creature, but was in a moment obliged to join in the general
+     cheers. Poor piggy soon found a strap round its neck, and was
+     dragged into the background; Scott, watching the retreat, repeated
+     with mock pathos, the first verse of an old pastoral song--
+
+       What will I do gin my hoggie die?
+       My joy, my pride, my hoggie!
+       My only beast, I had na mae,
+       And wow, but I was vogie!
+
+     --the cheers were redoubled--and the squadron moved on."
+
+Let us supplement this with one more picture, from the same hand,
+showing Scott in a little more intimate light. The passage was written
+in 1821, after Lockhart had married Scott's eldest daughter, and gone
+to spend the summer at Chiefswood, a cottage on the Abbotsford estate:
+
+     "We were near enough Abbotsford to partake as often as we liked of
+     its brilliant and constantly varying society; yet could do so
+     without being exposed to the worry and exhaustion of spirit which
+     the daily reception of new-comers entailed upon all the family,
+     except Scott himself. But in truth, even he was not always proof
+     against the annoyances connected with such a style of open
+     house-keeping.... When sore beset at home in this way, he would
+     every now and then discover that he had some very particular
+     business to attend to on an outlying part of his estate, and
+     craving the indulgence of his guests overnight, appear at the cabin
+     in the glen before its inhabitants were astir in the morning. The
+     clatter of Sibyl Grey's hoofs, the yelping of Mustard and Spice,
+     and his own joyous shout of _réveillée_ under our windows, were the
+     signal that he had burst his toils, and meant for that day to 'take
+     his ease in his inn.' On descending, he was found to be seated with
+     all his dogs and ours about him, under a spreading ash that
+     overshadowed half the bank between the cottage and the brook,
+     pointing the edge of his woodman's axe, and listening to Tom
+     Purdie's lecture touching the plantation that most needed thinning.
+     After breakfast he would take possession of a dressing-room
+     upstairs, and write a chapter of _The Pirate_; and then, having
+     made up and despatched his packet for Mr. Ballantyne, away to join
+     Purdie wherever the foresters were at work ... until it was time to
+     rejoin his own party at Abbotsford or the quiet circle of the
+     cottage. When his guests were few and friendly, he often made them
+     come over and meet him at Chiefswood in a body towards evening....
+     He was ready with all sorts of devices to supply the wants of a
+     narrow establishment; he used to delight particularly in sinking
+     the wine in a well under the _brae_ ere he went out, and hauling up
+     the basket just before dinner was announced,--this primitive device
+     being, he said, what he had always practised when a young
+     housekeeper, and in his opinion far superior in its results to any
+     application of ice; and in the same spirit, whenever the weather
+     was sufficiently genial, he voted for dining out of doors
+     altogether."
+
+Few events of importance except the successive appearances of "our
+buiks" as Tom Purdie called his master's novels, and an occasional visit
+to London or the continent, intervened to break the busy monotony of
+this Abbotsford life. On one of these visits to London, Scott was
+invited to dine with the Prince Regent, and when the prince became King
+George IV, in 1820, almost the first act of his reign was to create
+Scott a baronet. Scott accepted the honor gratefully, as coming, he
+said, "from the original source of all honor." There can well be two
+opinions as to whether this least admirable of English kings constituted
+a very prime fountain of honor, judged by democratic standards; but to
+Scott's mind, such an imputation would have been next to sacrilege. The
+feudal bias of his mind, strong to start with, had been strengthened by
+his long sojourn among the visions of a feudal past; the ideals of
+feudalism were living realities to him; and he accepted knighthood from
+his king's hand in exactly the same spirit which determined his attitude
+of humility towards his "chief," the Duke of Buccleugh, and which
+impelled him to exhaust his genius in the effort to build up a great
+family estate.
+
+There were already signs that the enormous burden of work under which he
+seemed to move so lightly, was telling on him. _The Bride of
+Lammermoor_, _The Legend of Montrose_, and _Ivanhoe_, had all of them
+been dictated between screams of pain, wrung from his lips by a chronic
+cramp of the stomach. By the time he reached _Redgauntlet_ and _St.
+Ronan's Well_, there began to be heard faint murmurings of discontent
+from his public, hints that he was writing too fast, and that the noble
+wine he had poured them for so long was growing at last a trifle watery.
+To add to these causes of uneasiness, the commercial ventures in which
+he was interested drifted again into a precarious state. He had himself
+fallen into the bad habit of forestalling the gains from his novels by
+heavy drafts on his publishers, and the example thus set was followed
+faithfully by John Ballantyne. Scott's good humor and his partner's bad
+judgment saddled the concern with a lot of unsalable books. In 1818 the
+affairs of the book-selling business had to be closed up, Constable
+taking over the unsalable stock and assuming the outstanding liabilities
+in return for copyright privileges covering some of Scott's novels.
+This so burdened the veteran publisher that when, in 1825, a large
+London firm failed, it carried him down also--and with him James
+Ballantyne, with whom he had entered into close relations. Scott's
+secret connection with Ballantyne had continued; accordingly he woke up
+one fine day to find himself worse than beggared, being personally
+liable for one hundred and thirty thousand pounds.
+
+
+IV
+
+The years intervening between this calamity and Scott's death form one
+of the saddest and at the same time most heroic chapters in the history
+of literature. The fragile health of Lady Scott succumbed almost
+immediately to the crushing blow, and she died in a few months. Scott
+surrendered Abbotsford to his creditors and took up humble lodgings in
+Edinburgh. Here, with a pride and stoical courage as quiet as it was
+splendid, he settled down to fill with the earnings of his pen the vast
+gulf of debt for which he was morally scarcely responsible at all. In
+three years he wrote _Woodstock_, three _Chronicles of the Canongate_,
+the _Fair Maid of Perth_, _Anne of Geierstein_, the first series of the
+_Tales of a Grandfather_, and a _Life of Napoleon_, equal to thirteen
+volumes of novel size, besides editing and annotating a complete edition
+of his own works. All these together netted his creditors Ł40,000.
+Touched by the efforts he was making to settle their claims, they now
+presented him with Abbotsford, and thither he returned to spend the few
+years remaining to him. In 1830 he suffered a first stroke of paralysis;
+refusing to give up, however, he made one more desperate rally to
+recapture his old power of story-telling. _Count Robert of Paris_ and
+_Castle Dangerous_ were the pathetic result; they are not to be taken
+into account, in any estimate of his powers, for they are manifestly the
+work of a paralytic patient. The gloomy picture is darkened by an
+incident which illustrates strikingly one phase of Scott's character.
+
+The great Reform Bill was being discussed throughout Scotland, menacing
+what were really abuses, but what Scott, with his intense conservatism,
+believed to be sacred and inviolable institutions. The dying man roused
+himself to make a stand against the abominable bill. In a speech which
+he made at Jedburgh, he was hissed and hooted by the crowd, and he left
+the town with the dastardly cry of "Burk Sir Walter!" ringing in his
+ears.
+
+Nature now intervened to ease the intolerable strain. Scott's anxiety
+concerning his debt gradually gave way to an hallucination that it had
+all been paid. His friends took advantage of the quietude which followed
+to induce him to make the journey to Italy, in the fear that the severe
+winter of Scotland would prove fatal. A ship of His Majesty's fleet was
+put at his disposal, and he set sail for Malta. The youthful
+adventurousness of the man flared up again oddly for a moment, when he
+insisted on being set ashore upon a volcanic island in the Mediterranean
+which had appeared but a few days before and which sank beneath the
+surface shortly after. The climate of Malta at first appeared to benefit
+him; but when he heard, one day, of the death of Goethe at Weimar, he
+seemed seized with a sudden apprehension of his own end, and insisted
+upon hurrying back through Europe, in order that he might look once more
+on Abbotsford. On the ride from Edinburgh he remained for the first two
+stages entirely unconscious. But as the carriage entered the valley of
+the Gala he opened his eyes and murmured the name of objects as they
+passed, "Gala water, surely--Buckholm--Torwoodlee." When the towers of
+Abbotsford came in view, he was so filled with delight that he could
+scarcely be restrained from leaping out. At the gates he greeted
+faithful Laidlaw in a voice strong and hearty as of old: "Why, man, how
+often I have thought of you!" and smiled and wept over the dogs who came
+rushing as in bygone times to lick his hand. He died a few days later,
+on the afternoon of a glorious autumn day, with all the windows open, so
+that he might catch to the last the whisper of the Tweed over its
+pebbles.
+
+"And so," says Carlyle, "the curtain falls; and the strong Walter Scott
+is with us no more. A possession from him does remain; widely
+scattered; yet attainable; not inconsiderable. It can be said of him,
+when he departed, he took a Man's life along with him. No sounder piece
+of British manhood was put together in that eighteenth century of Time.
+Alas, his fine Scotch face, with its shaggy honesty, sagacity and
+goodness, when we saw it latterly on the Edinburgh streets, was all worn
+with care, the joy all fled from it--plowed deep with labor and sorrow.
+We shall never forget it; we shall never see it again. Adieu, Sir
+Walter, pride of all Scotchmen, take our proud and sad farewell."
+
+
+
+
+II. SCOTT'S PLACE IN THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT
+
+
+In order rightly to appreciate the poetry of Scott it is necessary to
+understand something of that remarkable "Romantic Movement" which took
+place toward the end of the eighteenth century, and within a space of
+twenty-five years completely changed the face of English literature.
+Both the causes and the effects of this movement were much more than
+merely literary; the "romantic revival" penetrated every crevice and
+ramification of life in those parts of Europe which it affected; its
+social, political, and religious results were all deeply significant.
+But we must here confine ourselves to such aspects of the revival as
+showed themselves in English poetry.
+
+Eighteenth century poetry had been distinguished by its polish, its
+formal correctness, or--to use a term in much favor with critics of that
+day--its "elegance." The various and wayward metrical effects of the
+Elizabethan and Jacobean poets had been discarded for a few
+well-recognized verse forms, which themselves in turn had become still
+further limited by the application to them of precise rules of
+structure. Hand in hand with this restricting process in meter, had gone
+a similar tendency in diction. The simple, concrete phrases of daily
+speech had given way to stately periphrases; the rich and riotous
+vocabulary of earlier poetry had been replaced by one more decorous,
+measured, and high-sounding. A corresponding process of selection and
+exclusion was applied to the subject matter of poetry. Passion, lyric
+exaltation, delight in the concrete life of man and nature, passed out
+of fashion; in their stead came social satire, criticism, generalized
+observation. While the classical influence, as it is usually called, was
+at its height, with such men as Dryden and Pope to exemplify it, it did
+a great work; but toward the end of the eighth decade of the eighteenth
+century it had visibly run to seed. The feeble Hayley, the silly Della
+Crusca, the arid Erasmus Darwin, were its only exemplars. England was
+ripe for a literary revolution, a return to nature and to passion; and
+such a revolution was not slow in coming.
+
+It announced itself first in George Crabbe, who turned to paint the life
+of the poor with patient realism; in Burns, who poured out in his songs
+the passion of love, the passion of sorrow, the passion of conviviality;
+in Blake, who tried to reach across the horizon of visible fact to
+mystical heavens of more enduring reality. Following close upon these
+men came the four poets destined to accomplish the revolution which the
+early comers had begun. They were born within four years of each other,
+Wordsworth in 1770, Scott in 1771, Coleridge in 1772, Southey in 1774.
+As we look at these four men now, and estimate their worth as poets, we
+see that Southey drops almost out of the account, and that Wordsworth
+and Coleridge stand, so far as the highest qualities of poetry go, far
+above Scott, as, indeed, Blake and Burns do also. But the contemporary
+judgment upon them was directly the reverse; and Scott's poetry
+exercised an influence over his age immeasurably greater than that of
+any of the other three. Let us attempt to discover what qualities this
+poetry possessed which gave it its astonishing hold upon the age when it
+was written. In so doing, we may discover indirectly some of the reasons
+why it still retains a large portion of its popularity, and perhaps
+arrive at some grounds of judgment by which we may test its right
+thereto.
+
+One reason why Scott's poetry was immediately welcomed, while that of
+Wordsworth and of Coleridge lay neglected, is to be found in the fact
+that in the matter of diction Scott was much less revolutionary than
+they. By nature and education he was conservative; he put _The Lay of
+the Last Minstrel_ into the mouth of a rude harper of the North in order
+to shield himself from the charge of "attempting to set up a new school
+in poetry," and he never throughout his life violated the conventions,
+literary or social, if he could possibly avoid doing so. This bias
+toward conservatism and conventionality shows itself particularly in
+the language of his poems. He was compelled, of course, to use much
+more concrete and vivid terms than the eighteenth century poets had
+used, because he was dealing with much more concrete and vivid matter;
+but his language, nevertheless, has a prevailing stateliness, and at
+times an artificiality, which recommended it to readers tired of the
+inanities of Hayley and Mason, but unwilling to accept the startling
+simplicity and concreteness of diction exemplified by the Lake poets at
+their best.
+
+Another peculiarity of Scott's poetry which made powerfully for its
+popularity, was its spirited meter. People were weary of the heroic
+couplet, and turned eagerly to these hurried verses, that went on their
+way with the sharp tramp of moss-troopers, and heated the blood like a
+drum. The meters of Coleridge, subtle, delicate, and poignant, had been
+passed by with indifference--had not been heard perhaps, for lack of
+ears trained to hear; but Scott's metrical effects were such as a child
+could appreciate, and a soldier could carry in his head.
+
+Analogous to this treatment of meter, though belonging to a less formal
+side of his art, was Scott's treatment of nature, the landscape setting
+of his stories. Perhaps the most obvious feature of the romantic revival
+was a reawakening of interest in out-door nature. It was as if for a
+hundred years past people had been stricken blind as soon as they passed
+from the city streets into the country. A trim garden, an artfully
+placed country house, a well-kept preserve, they might see; but for the
+great shaggy world of mountain and sea--it had been shut out of man's
+elegant vision. Before Scott began to write there had been no lack of
+prophets of the new nature-worship, but none of them of a sort to catch
+the general ear. Wordsworth's pantheism was too mystical, too delicate
+and intuitive, to recommend itself to any but chosen spirits; Crabbe's
+descriptions were too minute, Coleridge's too intense, to please. Scott
+was the first to paint nature with a broad, free touch, without raptures
+or philosophizing, but with a healthy pleasure in its obvious beauties,
+such as appeal to average men. His "scenery" seldom exists for its own
+sake, but serves, as it should, for background and setting of his story.
+As his readers followed the fortunes of William of Deloraine or Roderick
+Dhu, they traversed by sunlight and by moonlight landscapes of wild
+romantic charm, and felt their beauty quite naturally, as a part of the
+excitement of that wild life. They felt it the more readily because of a
+touch of artificial stateliness in the handling, a slight theatrical
+heightening of effect--from an absolute point of view a defect, but
+highly congenial to the taste of the time. It was the scenic side of
+nature which Scott gave, and gave inimitably, while Burns was piercing
+to the inner heart of her tenderness in his lines "To a Mountain Daisy"
+and "To a Mouse," while Wordsworth was mystically communing with her
+soul, in his "Tintern Abbey." It was the scenic side of nature for which
+the perceptions of men were ripe; so they left profounder poets to their
+musings, and followed after the poet who could give them a brilliant
+story set in a brilliant scene.
+
+Again, the emotional key to Scott's poetry was on a comprehensible
+plane. The situations with which he deals, the passions, ambitions,
+satisfactions, which he portrays, belong, in one form or another, to all
+men, or at least are easily grasped by the imaginations of all men. It
+has often been said that Scott is the most Homeric of English poets; so
+far as the claim rests on considerations of style, it is hardly to be
+granted, for nothing could be farther than the hurrying torrent of
+Scott's verse from the "long and refluent music" of Homer. But in this
+other respect, that he deals in the rudimentary stuff of human character
+in a straightforward way, without a hint of modern complexities and
+super-subtleties, he is really akin to the master poet of antiquity.
+This, added to the crude wild life which he pictures, the vigorous sweep
+of his action, the sincere glow of romance which bathes his story--all
+so tonic in their effect upon minds long used to the stuffy decorum of
+didactic poetry, completed the triumph of _The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel_, _Marmion_, and _The Lady of the Lake_, over their age.
+
+As has been already suggested, Scott cannot be put in the first rank of
+poets. No compromise can be made on this point, because upon it the
+whole theory of poetry depends. Neither on the formal nor on the
+essential sides of his art is he among the small company of the supreme.
+And no one understood this better than himself. He touched the keynote
+of his own power, though with too great modesty, when he said, "I am
+sensible that if there is anything good about my poetry ... it is a
+hurried frankness of composition which pleases soldiers, sailors, and
+young people of bold and active dispositions." The poet Campbell, who
+was so fascinated by Scott's ballad of "Cadyow Castle" that he used to
+repeat it aloud on the North Bridge of Edinburgh until "the whole
+fraternity of coachmen knew him by tongue as he passed," characterizes
+the predominant charm of Scott's poetry as lying in a "strong, pithy
+eloquence," which is perhaps only another name for "hurried frankness of
+composition." If this is not the highest quality to which poetry can
+attain, it is a very admirable one; and it will be a sad day for the
+English-speaking race when there shall not be found persons of every age
+and walk of life, to take the same delights in these stirring poems as
+their author loved to think was taken by "soldiers, sailors, and young
+people of bold and active dispositions."
+
+
+
+
+III. THE LADY OF THE LAKE
+
+
+1. HISTORICAL SETTING
+
+_The Lady of the Lake_ deals with a distinct epoch in the life of King
+James V of Scotland, and has lying back of it a considerable amount of
+historical fact, an understanding of which will help in the appreciation
+of the poem. During his minority the King was under the tutelage of
+Archibald Douglas, sixth Earl of Angus, who had married the King's
+mother. The young monarch chafed for a long time under this authority,
+but the Douglases were so powerful that he was unable to shake it off,
+in spite of several desperate attempts on the part of his sympathizers
+to rescue him. In 1528 the King, then sixteen years of age, escaped from
+his own castle of Falkland to Stirling Castle. The governor of Stirling,
+an enemy of the Douglas family, received him joyfully. There soon
+gathered about his standard a sufficient number of powerful peers to
+enable him to depose the Earl of Angus from the regency and to banish
+him and all his family to England. The Douglas who figures in the poem
+is an imaginary uncle of the banished regent, and himself under the ban,
+compelled to hide away in the shelter provided for him by Roderick Dhu
+on the lonely island in Loch Katrine. He is represented as having been
+loved and trusted by King James during the boyhood of the latter, before
+the enmity sprang up between the house of Angus and the throne. This
+enmity, to quote from the _History of the House of Douglas_, published
+at Edinburgh in 1743, "was so inveterate, that numerous as their allies
+were, their nearest friends, even in the most remote parts of Scotland,
+durst not entertain them, unless under the strictest and closest
+disguise."
+
+The outlawed border chieftain, Roderick Dhu, who gives shelter to the
+persecuted Douglas, is a fictitious character, but one entirely typical
+of the time and place. The expedition undertaken by the young King
+against the Border clans, under the guise of a hunting party, is in
+part, at least, historic. Pitscottie's History says: "In 1529 James V
+made a convention at Edinburgh for the purpose of considering the best
+mode of quelling the Border robbers, who, during the license of his
+minority and the troubles which followed, had committed many
+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."
+
+
+2. GENERAL CRITICISM AND ANALYSIS
+
+_The Lady of the Lake_ appeared in 1810. Two years before, _Marmion_ had
+vastly increased the popular enthusiasm aroused by _The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel_, and the success of his second long poem had so exhilarated
+Scott that, as he says, he "felt equal to anything and everything." To
+one of his kinswomen, who urged him not to jeopardize his fame by
+another effort in the same kind, he gaily quoted 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 win or lose it all.
+
+The result justified his confidence; for not only was _The Lady of the
+Lake_ as successful as its predecessors, but it remains the most
+sterling of Scott's poems. The somewhat cheap supernaturalism of the
+_Lay_ appears in it only for a moment; both the story and the characters
+are of a less theatrical type than in _Marmion_; and it has a glow,
+animation, and onset, which was denied to the later poems, _Rokeby_ and
+_The Lord of the Isles_.
+
+The following outline abridged from the excellent one given by Francis
+Jeffrey in the _Edinburgh Review_ for August, 1810, will be useful as a
+basis for criticism of the matter and style of the poem.
+
+     "The first canto begins with a description of a staghunt in the
+     Highlands of Perthshire. As the chase lengthens, the sportsmen drop
+     off; till at last the foremost horseman is left alone; and his
+     horse, overcome with fatigue, stumbles and dies. The adventurer,
+     climbing up a craggy eminence, discovers Loch Katrine spread out in
+     evening glory before him. The huntsman winds his horn; and sees, to
+     his infinite surprise, a little skiff, guided by a lovely woman,
+     glide from beneath the trees that overhang the water, and approach
+     the shore at his feet. Upon the stranger's approach, she pushes the
+     shallop from the shore in alarm. After a short parley, however, she
+     carries him to a woody island, where she leads him into a sort of
+     silvan mansion, rudely constructed, and hung round with trophies of
+     war and the chase. An elderly lady is introduced at supper; and the
+     stranger, after disclosing himself to be 'James Fitz-James, the
+     knight of Snowdoun,' tries in vain to discover the name and history
+     of the ladies.
+
+     "The second canto opens with a picture of the aged harper,
+     Allan-bane, sitting on the island beach with the damsel, watching
+     the skiff which carries the stranger back to land. A conversation
+     ensues, from which the reader gathers that the lady is a daughter
+     of the Douglas, who, being exiled by royal displeasure from court,
+     had accepted this asylum from Sir Roderick Dhu, a Highland
+     chieftain long outlawed for deeds of blood; that this dark chief is
+     in love with his fair _protégée_, but that her affections are
+     engaged to Malcolm Graeme, a younger and more amiable mountaineer.
+     The sound of distant music is heard on the lake; and the barges of
+     Sir Roderick are discovered, proceeding in triumph to the island.
+     Ellen, hearing her father's horn at that instant on the opposite
+     shore, flies to meet him and Malcolm Graeme, who is received with
+     cold and stately civility by the lord of the isle. Sir Roderick
+     informs the Douglas that his retreat has been discovered, and that
+     the King (James V), under pretence of hunting, has assembled a
+     large force in the neighborhood. He then proposes impetuously that
+     they should unite their fortunes by his marriage with Ellen, and
+     rouse the whole Western Highlands. The Douglas, intimating that his
+     daughter has repugnances which she cannot overcome, declares that
+     he will retire to a cave in the neighboring mountains until the
+     issue of the King's threat is seen. The heart of Roderick is wrung
+     with agony at this rejection; and when Malcolm advances to Ellen,
+     he pushes him violently back--and a scuffle ensues, which is with
+     difficulty appeased by the giant arm of Douglas. Malcolm then
+     withdraws in proud resentment, plunges into the water, and swims
+     over by moonlight to the mainland.
+
+     "The third canto opens with an account of the ceremonies employed
+     in summoning the clan. This is accomplished by the consecration of
+     a small wooden cross, which, with its points scorched and dipped in
+     blood, is carried with incredible celerity through the whole
+     territory of the chieftain. The eager fidelity with which this
+     fatal signal is carried on, is represented with great spirit. A
+     youth starts from the side of his father's coffin, to bear it
+     forward, and, having run his stage, delivers it to a young
+     bridegroom returning from church, who instantly binds his plaid
+     around him, and rushes onward. In the meantime Douglas and his
+     daughter have taken refuge in the mountain cave; and Sir Roderick,
+     passing near their retreat on his way to the muster, hears Ellen's
+     voice singing her evening hymn to the Virgin. He does not obtrude
+     on her devotions, but hurries to the place of rendezvous.
+
+     "The fourth canto begins with some ceremonies by a wild hermit of
+     the clan, to ascertain the issue of the impending war; and this
+     oracle is obtained--that the party shall prevail which first sheds
+     the blood of its adversary. The scene then shifts to the retreat of
+     the Douglas, where the minstrel is trying to soothe Ellen in her
+     alarm at the disappearance of her father by singing a fairy ballad
+     to her. As the song ends, the knight of Snowdoun suddenly appears
+     before her, declares his love, and urges her to put herself under
+     his protection. Ellen throws herself on his generosity, confesses
+     her attachment to Graeme, and prevails on him to seek his own
+     safety by a speedy retreat from the territory of Roderick Dhu.
+     Before he goes, the stranger presents her with a ring, which he
+     says he has received from King James, with a promise to grant any
+     boon asked by the person producing it. As he retreats, his
+     suspicions are excited by the conduct of his guide, and confirmed
+     by the warnings of a mad woman whom they encounter. His false guide
+     discharges an arrow at him, which kills the maniac. The knight
+     slays the murderer; and learning from the expiring victim that her
+     brain had been turned by the cruelty of Sir Roderick Dhu, he vows
+     vengeance. When chilled with the midnight cold and exhausted with
+     fatigue, he suddenly comes upon a chief reposing by a lonely
+     watch-fire; and being challenged in the name of Roderick Dhu,
+     boldly avows himself his enemy. The clansman, however, disdains to
+     take advantage of a worn-out wanderer; and pledges him safe escort
+     out of Sir Roderick's territory, when he must answer his defiance
+     with his sword. The stranger accepts these chivalrous terms; and
+     the warriors sup and sleep together. This ends the fourth canto.
+
+     "At dawn, the knight and the mountaineer proceed toward the Lowland
+     frontier. A dispute arises concerning the character of Roderick
+     Dhu, and the knight expresses his desire to meet in person and do
+     vengeance upon the predatory chief. 'Have then thy wish!' answers
+     his guide; and gives a loud whistle. A whole legion of armed men
+     start up from their mountain ambush in the heath; while the chief
+     turns proudly and says, 'I am Roderick Dhu!' Sir Roderick then by a
+     signal dismisses his men to their concealment. Arrived at his
+     frontier, the chief forces the knight to stand upon his defense.
+     Roderick, after a hard combat is laid wounded on the ground;
+     Fitz-James, sounding his bugle, brings four squires to his side;
+     and, after giving the wounded chief into their charge, gallops
+     rapidly on towards Stirling. As he ascends the hill to the castle,
+     he descries approaching the same place the giant form of Douglas,
+     who has come to deliver himself up to the King, in order to save
+     Malcolm Graeme and Sir Roderick from the impending danger. Before
+     entering the castle, Douglas is seized with the whim to engage in
+     the holiday sports which are going forward outside; he wins prize
+     after prize, and receives his reward from the hand of the prince,
+     who, however does not condescend to recognize his former favorite.
+     Roused at last by an insult from one of the royal grooms, Douglas
+     proclaims himself, and is ordered into custody by the King. At this
+     instant a messenger arrives with tidings of an approaching battle
+     between the clan of Roderick and the King's lieutenant, the Earl of
+     Mar; and is ordered back to prevent the conflict, by announcing
+     that both Sir Roderick and Lord Douglas are in the hands of their
+     sovereign.
+
+     "The last canto opens in the guard room of the royal castle at
+     Stirling, at dawn. While the mercenaries are quarreling and singing
+     at the close of a night of debauch, the sentinels introduce Ellen
+     and the minstrel Allan-bane--who are come in search of Douglas.
+     Ellen awes the ruffian soldiery by her grace and liberality, and is
+     at length conducted to a more seemly waiting place, until she may
+     obtain audience with the King. While Allan-bane, in the cell of Sir
+     Roderick, sings to the dying chieftain of the glorious battle which
+     has just been waged by his clansmen against the forces of the Earl
+     of Mar, Ellen, in another part of the palace, hears the voice of
+     Malcolm Graeme lamenting his captivity from an adjoining turret.
+     Before she recovers from her agitation she is startled by the
+     appearance of Fitz-James, who comes to inform her that the court is
+     assembled, and the King at leisure to receive her suit. He conducts
+     her to the hall of presence, round which Ellen casts a timid and
+     eager glance for the monarch. But all the glittering figures are
+     uncovered, and James Fitz-James alone wears his cap and plume. The
+     Knight of Snowdoun is the King of Scotland! Struck with awe and
+     terror, Ellen falls speechless at his feet, pointing to the ring
+     which he has put upon her finger. The prince raises her with eager
+     kindness, declares that her father is forgiven, and bids her ask
+     for a boon for some other person. The name of Graeme trembles on
+     her lips, but she cannot trust herself to utter it. The King, in
+     playful vengeance, condemns Malcolm Graeme to fetters, takes a
+     chain of gold from his own neck, and throwing it over that of the
+     young chief, puts the clasp in the hand of Ellen."
+
+From this outline, it will be evident that Scott had gained greatly in
+narrative power since the production of _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_.
+Not only are the elements of the "fable" (to use the word in its
+old-fashioned sense) harmonious and probable, but the various incidents
+grow out of each other in a natural and necessary way. The _Lay_ was at
+best a skillful bit of carpentering whereof the several parts were
+nicely juxtaposed; _The Lady of the Lake_ is an organism, and its
+several members partake of a common life. A few weaknesses may, it is
+true, be pointed out in it. The warning of Fitz-James by the mad woman's
+song makes too large a draft upon our romantic credulity. Her appearance
+is at once so accidental and so opportune that it resembles those
+supernatural interventions employed by ancient tragedy to cut the knot
+of a difficult situation, which have given rise to the phrase _deus ex
+machina_. The improbability of the episode is further increased by the
+fact that she puts her warning in the form of a song. Scott's love of
+romantic episode manifestly led him astray here. Further, the story as a
+whole shares with all stories which turn upon the revelation of a
+concealed identity, the disadvantage of being able to affect the reader
+powerfully but once, since on a second reading the element of suspense
+and surprise is lacking. In so far as _The Lady of the Lake_ is a mere
+story, or as it has been called, a "versified novelette," this is not a
+weakness; but in so far as it is a poem, with the claim which poetry
+legitimately makes to be read and reread for its intrinsic beauty, it
+constitutes a real defect.
+
+Not only does this poem, with the slight exceptions just mentioned, show
+a gain over the earlier poems in narrative power, but it also marks an
+advance in character delineation. The characters of the _Lay_ are, with
+one or two exceptions, mere lay-figures; Lord Cranstoun and Margaret are
+the most conventional of lovers; William of Deloraine is little more
+than an animated suit of armor, and the Lady of Branksome, except at one
+point, when from her walls she defies the English invaders, is nearly or
+quite featureless. With the characters of _The Lady of the Lake_ the
+case is very different. The three rivals for Ellen's hand are real men,
+with individualities which enhance and deepen the picturesqueness of
+each other by contrast. The easy grace and courtly chivalry, of the
+disguised King, the quick kindling of his fancy at sight of the
+mysterious maid of Loch Katrine, his quick generosity in relinquishing
+his suit when he finds that she loves another, make him one of the most
+life-like figures of romance. Roderick Dhu, nursing darkly his clannish
+hatreds, his hopeless love, and his bitter jealousy, with a delicate
+chivalry sending its bright thread through the tissue of his savage
+nature, is drawn with an equally convincing hand. Against his gloomy
+figure the boyish magnanimity of Malcolm Graeme, Ellen's brave
+faithfulness, made human by a surface play of coquetry, and the quiet
+nobility of the exiled Douglas, stand out in varied relief. Judged in
+connection with the more conventional character types of _Marmion_, and
+with the draped automatons of the _Lay_, the characters of _The Lady of
+the Lake_ show the gradual growth in Scott of that dramatic imagination
+which was later to fill the vast scene of his prose romances with
+unforgettable figures.
+
+But the most significant advance which this poem shows over earlier work
+is in the greater genuineness of the poetic effect. In the description,
+for example, of the approach of Roderick Dhu's boats to the island,
+there is a singular depth of race feeling. There is borne in upon us, as
+we read, the realization of a wild and peculiar civilization; we get a
+breath of poetry keen and strange, like the shrilling of the bag-pipes
+across the water. Again, in the speeding of the fiery cross there is a
+primitive depth of poetry which carries with it a sense of "old,
+unhappy, far-off things"; it appeals to latent memories in us, which
+have been handed down from an ancestral past. There is nothing in either
+_The Lay of the Last Minstrel_ or _Marmion_ to compare for natural
+dramatic force with the situation in _The Lady of the Lake_ when
+Roderick Dhu whistles for his clansmen to appear, and the astonished
+Fitz-James sees the lonely mountain side suddenly bristle with tartans
+and spears; and the fight which follows at the ford is a real fight, in
+a sense not at all to be applied to the tournaments and other
+conventional encounters of the earlier poems. Even where Scott still
+clung to supernatural devices to help along his story, he handles them
+with much greater subtlety than he had done in his earlier efforts. The
+dropping of Douglas's sword from its scabbard when his disguised enemy
+enters the room, arouses the imagination without burdening it. It has
+the same imaginative advantage over such an episode as that in the
+_Lay_, where the ghost of the wizard comes to bear off the goblin page,
+as suggestion always has over explicit statement. This gain in subtlety
+of treatment will be made still more apparent by comparing with any
+supernatural episode of the _Lay_, the account in _The Lady of the Lake_
+of the unearthly parentage of Brian the Hermit.
+
+The gain in style is less perceptible. Scott was never a great stylist;
+he struck out at the very first a nervous, hurrying meter, and a strong
+though rather commonplace diction, upon which he never substantially
+improved. Abundant action, rapid transitions, stirring descriptions,
+common sentiments and ordinary language heightened by a dash of pomp and
+novelty, above all a pervading animation, spirit, intrepidity--these are
+the constant elements of Scott's success, present here in their
+accustomed measure. In the broader sense of style, however, where the
+word is understood to include all the processes leading to a given
+poetical effect, _The Lady of the Lake_ has some advantage, even over
+_Marmion_. It contains nothing, to be sure, so fine or so typical of
+Scott's peculiar power, as the account of the Battle of Flodden in
+_Marmion_; the minstrel's recital of the battle of Beal' an Duine does
+not abide the comparison. The quieter parts of _The Lady of the Lake_,
+moreover, are sometimes disfigured by a sentimentality and "prettiness"
+happily unfrequent with Scott. But the description of the approach of
+Roderick Dhu's war-boats, already mentioned, the superb landscape
+delineation in the fifth canto, and the beautiful twilight ending of
+canto third, can well stand as prime types of Scott's stylistic power.
+
+
+
+
+THE LADY OF THE LAKE
+
+
+
+
+CANTO FIRST
+
+THE CHASE
+
+
+  Harp of the North! that moldering 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--                     5
+    O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep?
+  Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring,
+    Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep,
+  Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep?
+
+  Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon,                           10
+    Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd,
+  When lay of hopeless love, or glory won,
+    Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud.
+  At each according pause, was heard aloud
+    Thine ardent symphony sublime and high!                       15
+  Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed;
+    For still the burden of thy minstrelsy
+  Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye.
+
+  O wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand
+    That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray;                   20
+  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,                      25
+    The wizard note has not been touched 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                             30
+  In lone Glenartney's hazel shade;
+  But, when the sun his beacon red
+  Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head,
+  The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay
+  Resounded up the rocky way,                                     35
+  And faint, from farther distance borne,
+  Were heard the clanging hoof and horn.
+
+
+II
+
+  As Chief, who hears his warder call,
+  "To arms! the foemen storm the wall,"
+  The antlered monarch of the waste                               40
+  Sprung from his heathery couch in haste.
+  But ere his fleet career he took,
+  The dew-drops from his flanks he shook;
+  Like crested leader proud and high,
+  Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky;                          45
+  A moment gazed adown the dale,
+  A moment snuffed the tainted gale,
+  A moment listened to the cry,
+  That thickened as the chase drew nigh;
+  Then, as the headmost foes appeared,                            50
+  With one brave bound the copse he cleared,
+  And, stretching forward free and far,
+  Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.
+
+
+III
+
+  Yelled on the view the opening pack;
+  Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back;                         55
+  To many a mingled sound at once
+  The awakened mountain gave response.
+  A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong,
+  Clattered a hundred steeds along,
+  Their peal the merry horns rung out,                            60
+  A hundred voices joined the shout;
+  With hark and whoop and wild halloo,
+  No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew.
+  Far from the tumult fled the roe;
+  Close in her covert cowered the doe;                            65
+  The falcon, from her cairn on high,
+  Cast on the rout a wondering eye,
+  Till far beyond her piercing ken
+  The hurricane had swept the glen.
+  Faint, and more faint, its failing din                          70
+  Returned from cavern, cliff, and linn,
+  And silence settled, wide and still,
+  On the lone wood and mighty hill.
+
+
+IV
+
+  Less loud the sounds of silvan war
+  Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var,                               75
+  And roused the cavern, where, 'tis told,
+  A giant made his den of old;
+  For ere that steep ascent was won,
+  High in his pathway hung the sun,
+  And many a gallant, stayed perforce,                            80
+  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.                          85
+
+
+V
+
+  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 wandered o'er                               90
+  Mountain and meadow, moss and moor,
+  And pondered refuge from his toil,
+  By far Lochard or Aberfoyle.
+  But nearer was the copsewood grey,
+  That waved and wept on Loch-Achray,                             95
+  And mingled with the pine-trees blue
+  On the bold cliffs of Benvenue.
+  Fresh vigor with the hope returned,
+  With flying foot the heath he spurned,
+  Held westward with unwearied race,                             100
+  And left behind the panting chase.
+
+
+VI
+
+  'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er,
+  As swept the hunt through Cambusmore;
+  What reins were tightened in despair,
+  When rose Benledi's ridge in air;                              105
+  Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath,
+  Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith--
+  For twice that day, from shore to shore,
+  The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er.
+  Few were the stragglers, following far,                        110
+  That reached the lake of Vennachar;
+  And when the Brigg of Turk was won,
+  The headmost horseman rode alone.
+
+
+VII
+
+  Alone, but with unbated zeal,
+  That horseman plied the scourge and steel;                     115
+  For jaded now, and spent with toil,
+  Embossed with foam, and dark with soil,
+  While every gasp with sobs he drew,
+  The laboring stag strained full in view.
+  Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed,                        120
+  Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed,
+  Fast on his flying traces came,
+  And all but won that desperate game;
+  For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch,
+  Vindictive, toiled the bloodhounds stanch;                     125
+  Nor nearer might the dogs attain,
+  Nor farther might the quarry strain.
+  Thus up the margin of the lake,
+  Between the precipice and brake,
+  O'er stock and rock their race they take.                      130
+
+
+VIII
+
+  The Hunter marked that mountain high,
+  The lone lake's western boundary,
+  And deemed the stag must turn to bay,
+  Where that huge rampart barred the way;
+  Already glorying in the prize,                                 135
+  Measured his antlers with his eyes;
+  For the death-wound and the death-halloo,
+  Mustered his breath, his whinyard drew--
+  But thundering as he came prepared,
+  With ready arm and weapon bared,                               140
+  The wily quarry shunned the shock,
+  And turned him from the opposing rock;
+  Then, dashing down a darksome glen,
+  Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken,
+  In the deep Trossachs' wildest nook                            145
+  His solitary refuge took.
+  There, while close couched, the thicket shed
+  Cold dews and wild-flowers on his head,
+  He heard the baffled dogs in vain
+  Rave through the hollow pass amain,                            150
+  Chiding the rocks that yelled again.
+
+
+IX
+
+  Close on the hounds the Hunter came,
+  To cheer them on the vanished game;
+  But, stumbling in the rugged dell,
+  The gallant horse exhausted fell.                              155
+  The impatient rider strove in vain
+  To rouse him with the spur and rein,
+  For the good steed, his labors o'er,
+  Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more;
+  Then, touched with pity and remorse,                           160
+  He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse.
+  "I little thought, when first thy rein
+  I slacked upon the banks of Seine,
+  That Highland eagle e'er should feed
+  On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed!                        165
+  Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day,
+  That costs thy life, my gallant gray!"
+
+
+X
+
+  Then through the dell his horn resounds,
+  From vain pursuit to call the hounds.
+  Back limped, with slow and crippled pace,                      170
+  The sulky leaders of the chase;
+  Close to their master's side they pressed,
+  With drooping tail and humbled crest;
+  But still the dingle's hollow throat
+  Prolonged the swelling bugle-note.                             175
+  The owlets started from their dream,
+  The eagles answered with their scream,
+  Round and around the sounds were cast,
+  Till echo seemed an answering blast;
+  And on the Hunter hied his way,                                180
+  To join some comrades of the day;
+  Yet often paused, so strange the road,
+  So wondrous were the scenes it showed.
+
+
+XI
+
+  The western waves of ebbing day
+  Rolled o'er the glen their level way;                          185
+  Each purple peak, each flinty spire,
+  Was bathed in floods of living fire.
+  But not a setting beam could glow
+  Within the dark ravines below,
+  Where twined the path in shadow hid,                           190
+  Round many a rocky pyramid,
+  Shooting abruptly from the dell
+  Its thunder-splintered pinnacle;
+  Round many an insulated mass,
+  The native bulwarks of the pass,                               195
+  Huge as the tower which builders vain
+  Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain.
+  The rocky summits, split and rent,
+  Formed turret, dome, or battlement,
+  Or seemed fantastically set                                    200
+  With cupola or minaret,
+  Wild crests as pagod ever decked,
+  Or mosque of Eastern architect.
+  Nor were these earth-born castles bare,
+  Nor lacked they many a banner fair;                            205
+  For, from their shivered brows displayed,
+  Far o'er the unfathomable glade,
+  All twinkling with the dewdrops sheen,
+  The brier-rose fell in streamers green,
+  And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes,                         210
+  Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs.
+
+
+XII
+
+  Boon nature scattered, free and wild,
+  Each plant or flower, the mountain's child.
+  Here eglantine embalmed the air,
+  Hawthorn and hazel mingled there;                              215
+  The primrose pale and violet flower,
+  Found in each cliff a narrow bower;
+  Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side,
+  Emblems of punishment and pride,
+  Grouped their dark hues with every stain                       220
+  The weather-beaten crags retain.
+  With boughs that quaked at every breath,
+  Grey birch and aspen wept beneath;
+  Aloft, the ash and warrior oak
+  Cast anchor in the rifted rock;                                225
+  And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung
+  His shattered trunk, and frequent flung,
+  Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high,
+  His bows athwart the narrowed sky.
+  Highest of all, where white peaks glanced,                     230
+  Where glist'ning streamers waved and danced,
+  The wanderer's eye could barely view
+  The summer heaven's delicious blue;
+  So wondrous wild, the whole might seem
+  The scenery of a fairy dream.                                  235
+
+
+XIII
+
+  Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep
+  A narrow inlet, still and deep,
+  Affording scarce such breadth of brim
+  As served the wild duck's brood to swim.
+  Lost for a space, through thickets veering,                    240
+  But broader when again appearing,
+  Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face
+  Could on the dark-blue mirror trace;
+  And farther as the Hunter strayed,
+  Still broader sweep its channels made.                         245
+  The shaggy mounds no longer stood,
+  Emerging from entangled wood,
+  But, wave-encircled, seemed to float,
+  Like castle girdled with its moat;
+  Yet broader floods extending still                             250
+  Divide them from their parent hill,
+  Till each, retiring, claims to be
+  An islet in an inland sea.
+
+
+XIV
+
+  And now, to issue from the glen,
+  No pathway meets the wanderer's ken,                           255
+  Unless he climb, with footing nice,
+  A far projecting precipice.
+  The broom's tough roots his ladder made,
+  The hazel saplings lent their aid;
+  And thus an airy point he won,                                 260
+  Where, gleaming with the setting sun,
+  One burnished sheet of living gold,
+  Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled,
+  In all her length far winding lay,
+  With promontory, creek, and bay,                               265
+  And island that, empurpled bright,
+  Floated amid the livelier light,
+  And mountains, that like giants stand,
+  To sentinel enchanted land.
+  High on the south, huge Benvenue                               270
+  Down on the lake in masses threw
+  Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled,
+  The fragments of an earlier world;
+  A wildering forest feathered o'er
+  His ruined sides and summit hoar,                              275
+  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,                       280
+  "For princely pomp, or churchman's pride!
+  On this bold brow, a lordly tower;
+  In that soft vale, a lady's bower;
+  On yonder meadow, far away,
+  The turrets of a cloister gray;                                285
+  How blithely might the bugle-horn
+  Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn!
+  How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute
+  Chime, when the groves were still and mute!
+  And when the midnight moon should lave                         290
+  Her forehead in the silver wave,
+  How solemn on the ear would come
+  The holy matin's distant hum,
+  While the deep peal's commanding tone
+  Should wake, in yonder islet lone,                             295
+  A sainted hermit from his cell,
+  To drop a bead with every knell--
+  And bugle, lute, and bell, and all,
+  Should each bewildered stranger call
+  To friendly feast, and lighted hall.                           300
+
+
+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,                              305
+  Some rustling oak my canopy.
+  Yet pass we that; the war and chase
+  Give little choice of resting-place--
+  A summer night, in greenwood spent,
+  Were but tomorrow's merriment:                                 310
+  But hosts may in these wilds abound,
+  Such as are better missed than found;
+  To meet with Highland plunderers here,
+  Were worse than loss of steed or deer.
+  I am alone; my bugle-strain                                    315
+  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,                          320
+  From underneath an aged oak,
+  That slanted from the islet rock,
+  A damsel guider of its way,
+  A little skiff shot to the bay,
+  That round the promontory steep                                325
+  Led its deep line in graceful sweep,
+  Eddying, in almost viewless wave,
+  The weeping willow-twig to lave,
+  And kiss, with whispering sound and slow,
+  The beach of pebbles bright as snow.                           330
+  The boat had touched the silver strand,
+  Just as the Hunter left his stand,
+  And stood concealed amid the brake,
+  To view this Lady of the Lake.
+  The maiden paused, as if again                                 335
+  She thought to catch the distant strain.
+  With head upraised, and look intent,
+  And eye and ear attentive bent,
+  And locks flung back, and lips apart,
+  Like monument of Grecian art,                                  340
+  In listening mood, she seemed to stand,
+  The guardian Naiad of the strand.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace
+  A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace
+  Of finer form or lovelier face!                                345
+  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                            350
+  Short glimpses of a breast of snow.
+  What though no rule of courtly grace
+  To measured mood had trained her pace,--
+  A foot more light, a step more true,
+  Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew;                    355
+  E'en the slight harebell raised its head,
+  Elastic from her airy tread.
+  What though upon her speech there hung
+  The accents of the mountain tongue--
+  Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear,                         360
+  The listener held his breath to hear!
+
+
+XIX
+
+  A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid;
+  Her satin snood, her silken plaid,
+  Her golden brooch such birth betrayed.
+  And seldom was a snood amid                                    365
+  Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid,
+  Whose glossy black to shame might bring
+  The plumage of the raven's wing;
+  And seldom o'er a breast so fair,
+  Mantled a plaid with modest care,                              370
+  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,                               375
+  Gives back the shaggy banks more true,
+  Than every free-born glance confessed
+  The guileless movements of her breast;
+  Whether joy danced in her dark eye,
+  Or woe or pity claimed a sigh,                                 380
+  Or filial love was glowing there,
+  Or meek devotion poured a prayer,
+  Or tale of injury called forth
+  The indignant spirit of the North.
+  One only passion unrevealed,                                   385
+  With maiden pride the maid concealed,
+  Yet not less purely felt the flame--
+  Oh! need I tell that passion's name!
+
+
+XX
+
+  Impatient of the silent horn,
+  Now on the gale her voice was borne:                           390
+  "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
+  Less resolutely uttered fell,                                  395
+  The echoes could not catch the swell.
+  "A stranger I," the Huntsman said,
+  Advancing from the hazel shade.
+  The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar,
+  Pushed her light shallop from the shore,                       400
+  And when a space was gained between,
+  Closer she drew her bosom's screen--
+  So forth the startled swan would swing,
+  So turn to prune his ruffled wing.
+  Then safe, though fluttered and amazed,                        405
+  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 pressed its signet sage,                          410
+  Yet had not quenched 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,                      415
+  Of hasty love, or headlong ire.
+  His limbs were cast in manly mold,
+  For hardy sports or contest bold;
+  And though in peaceful garb arrayed,
+  And weaponless, except his blade,                              420
+  His stately mien as well implied
+  A high-born heart, a martial pride,
+  As if a Baron's crest he wore,
+  And sheathed in armor trod the shore.
+  Slighting the petty need he showed,                            425
+  He told of his benighted road;
+  His ready speech flowed fair and free,
+  In phrase of gentlest courtesy;
+  Yet seemed that tone, and gesture bland,
+  Less used to sue than to command.                              430
+
+
+XXII
+
+  A while the maid the stranger eyed,
+  And, reassured, at length replied,
+  That Highland halls were open still
+  To wildered wanderers of the hill.
+  "Nor think you unexpected come                                 435
+  To yon lone isle, our desert home;
+  Before the heath had lost the dew,
+  This morn, a couch was pulled for you;
+  On yonder mountain's purple head
+  Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled,                            440
+  And our broad nets have swept the mere,
+  To furnish forth your evening cheer."
+  "Now, by the rood, my lovely maid,
+  Your courtesy has erred," he said;
+  "No right have I to claim, misplaced,                          445
+  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,                             450
+  Till on this lake's romantic strand,
+  I found a fay in fairy land!"
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  "I well believe," the maid replied,
+  As her light skiff approached the side,
+  "I well believe, that ne'er before                             455
+  Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore;
+  But yet, as far as yesternight,
+  Old Allan-bane foretold your plight,
+  A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent
+  Was on the visioned future bent.                               460
+  He saw your steed, a dappled gray,
+  Lie dead beneath the birchen way;
+  Painted exact your form and mien,
+  Your hunting suit of Lincoln green,
+  That tasselled horn so gaily gilt,                             465
+  That falchion's crooked blade and hilt,
+  That cap with heron plumage trim,
+  And yon two hounds so dark and grim.
+  He bade that all should ready be,
+  To grace a guest of fair degree;                               470
+  But light I held his prophecy,
+  And deemed it was my father's horn,
+  Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne."
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  The stranger smiled: "Since to your home
+  A destined errant-knight I come,                               475
+  Announced by prophet sooth and old,
+  Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold,
+  I'll lightly front each high emprise,
+  For one kind glance of those bright eyes.
+  Permit me, first, the task to guide                            480
+  Your fairy frigate o'er the tide."
+  The maid with smile suppressed and sly,
+  The toil unwonted saw him try;
+  For seldom sure, if e'er before,
+  His noble hand had grasped an oar.                             485
+  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                         490
+  The dark'ning mirror of the lake,
+  Until the rocky isle they reach,
+  And moor their shallop on the beach.
+
+
+XXV
+
+  The stranger viewed the shore around,
+  'Twas all so close with copsewood bound,                       495
+  Nor track nor pathway might declare
+  That human foot frequented there,
+  Until the mountain-maiden showed
+  A clambering, unsuspected road,
+  That winded through the tangled screen,                        500
+  And opened on a narrow green,
+  Where weeping birch and willow round
+  With their long fibres swept the ground.
+  Here, for retreat in dangerous hour,
+  Some chief had framed a rustic bower.                          505
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  It was a lodge of ample size,
+  But strange of structure and device;
+  Of such materials as around
+  The workman's hand had readiest found.
+  Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared,               510
+  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.                           515
+  The lighter pine-trees overhead,
+  Their slender length for rafters spread,
+  And withered heath and rushes dry
+  Supplied a russet canopy.
+  Due westward, fronting to the green,                           520
+  A rural portico was seen,
+  Aloft on native pillars borne,
+  Of mountain fir with bark unshorn,
+  Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine
+  The ivy and Idaean vine,                                       525
+  The clematis, the favored 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 stayed                            530
+  And gaily to the stranger said,
+  "On heaven and on thy lady call,
+  And enter the enchanted hall!"
+
+
+XXVII
+
+  "My hope, my heaven, my trust must be,
+  My gentle guide, in following thee."                           535
+  He crossed the threshold--and a clang
+  Of angry steel that instant rang.
+  To his bold brow his spirit rushed,
+  But soon for vain alarm he blushed,
+  When on the floor he saw displayed,                            540
+  Cause of the din, a naked blade
+  Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung
+  Upon a stag's huge antlers swung;
+  For all around, the walls to grace,
+  Hung trophies of the fight or chase:                           545
+  A target there, a bugle here,
+  A battle-ax, a hunting spear,
+  And broadswords, bows, and arrows store,
+  With the tusked trophies of the boar.
+  Here grins the wolf as when he died,                           550
+  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 stained,
+  That blackening streaks of blood retained,                     555
+  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.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+  The wondering stranger round him gazed,                        560
+  And next the fallen weapon raised--
+  Few were the arms whose sinewy strength,
+  Sufficed to stretch it forth at length.
+  And as the brand he poised and swayed,
+  "I never knew but one," he said,                               565
+  "Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield
+  A blade like this in battle-field."
+  She sighed, then smiled and took the word:
+  "You see the guardian champion's sword;
+  As light it trembles in his hand,                              570
+  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."                               575
+
+
+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,                        580
+  Young Ellen gave a mother's due.
+  Meet welcome to her guest she made,
+  And every courteous rite was paid,
+  That hospitality could claim,
+  Though all unasked his birth and name.                         585
+  Such then the reverence to a guest,
+  That fellest foe might join the feast,
+  And from his deadliest foeman's door
+  Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er.
+  At length his rank the stranger names,                         590
+  "The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James;
+  Lord of a barren heritage,
+  Which his brave sires, from age to age,
+  By their good swords had held with toil;
+  His sire had fallen in such turmoil,                           595
+  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,
+  Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer,                     600
+  Lost his good steed, and wandered here."
+
+
+XXX
+
+  Fain would the Knight in turn require
+  The name and state of Ellen's sire.
+  Well showed the elder lady's mien,
+  That courts and cities she had seen;                           605
+  Ellen, though more her looks displayed
+  The simple grace of silvan maid,
+  In speech and gesture, form and face,
+  Showed she was come of gentle race.
+  'Twere strange in ruder rank to find                           610
+  Such looks, such manners, and such mind.
+  Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave,
+  Dame Margaret heard with silence grave;
+  Or Ellen, innocently gay,
+  Turned all inquiry light away:                                 615
+  "Weird women we--by dale and down
+  We dwell, afar from tower and town.
+  We stem the flood, we ride the blast,
+  On wandering knights our spells we cast;
+  While viewless minstrels touch the string,                     620
+  'Tis thus our charméd rimes we sing."
+  She sung, and still a harp unseen
+  Filled up the symphony between.
+
+
+XXXI
+
+SONG
+
+  "Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
+    Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking;                      625
+  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,                                   630
+    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.                             635
+
+  "No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
+    Armor's clang, or war-steed champing,
+  Trump nor pibroch summon here
+    Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
+  Yet the lark's shrill fife may come                            640
+    At the day-break from the fallow,
+  And the bittern sound his drum,
+    Booming from the sedgy shallow.
+  Ruder sounds shall none be near,
+  Guards nor warders challenge here,                             645
+  Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,
+  Shouting clans or squadrons stamping."
+
+
+XXXII
+
+  She paused--then, blushing, led the lay
+  To grace the stranger of the day.
+  Her mellow notes awhile prolong                                650
+  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,                        655
+  Dream not, with the rising sun,
+    Bugles here shall sound reveillé.
+  Sleep! the deer is in his den;
+    Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying;
+  Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen,                               660
+    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 reveillé."                                665
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+  The hall was cleared--the stranger's bed
+  Was there of mountain heather spread,
+  Where oft a hundred guests had lain,
+  And dreamed their forest sports again.
+  But vainly did the heath-flower shed                           670
+  Its moorland fragrance round his head;
+  Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest
+  The fever of his troubled breast.
+  In broken dreams the image rose
+  Of varied perils, pains, and woes:                             675
+  His steed now flounders in the brake,
+  Now sinks his barge upon the lake;
+  Now leader of a broken host,
+  His standard falls, his honor's lost.
+  Then--from my couch may heavenly might                         680
+  Chase that worst phantom of the night!
+  Again returned the scenes of youth,
+  Of confident undoubting truth;
+  Again his soul he interchanged
+  With friends whose hearts were long estranged.                 685
+  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--                          690
+  O were his senses false or true?
+  Dreamed he of death, or broken vow,
+  Or is it all a vision now?
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+  At length, with Ellen in a grove
+  He seemed to walk, and speak of love;                          695
+  She listened with a blush and sigh,
+  His suit was warm, his hopes were high.
+  He sought her yielded hand to clasp,
+  And a cold gauntlet met his grasp;
+  The phantom's sex was changed and gone,                        700
+  Upon its head a helmet shone;
+  Slowly enlarged to giant size,
+  With darkened cheek and threatening eyes,
+  The grisly visage, stern and hoar,
+  To Ellen still a likeness bore.                                705
+  He woke, and, panting with affright,
+  Recalled the vision of the night.
+  The hearth's decaying brands were red.
+  And deep and dusky luster shed,
+  Half showing, half concealing, all                             710
+  The uncouth trophies of the hall.
+  Mid those the stranger fixed his eye,
+  Where that huge falchion hung on high,
+  And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng,
+  Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along.                      715
+  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 swept in fragrant balm,                        720
+  The aspens slept beneath the calm;
+  The silver light, with quivering glance,
+  Played on the water's still expanse--
+  Wild were the heart whose passion's sway
+  Could rage beneath the sober ray!                              725
+  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,                                 730
+  But she must bear the Douglas eye?
+  Can I not view a Highland brand,
+  But it must match the Douglas hand?
+  Can I not frame a fevered dream,
+  But still the Douglas is the theme?                            735
+  I'll dream no more--by manly mind
+  Not even in sleep is will resigned.
+  My midnight orisons said o'er,
+  I'll turn to rest, and dream no more."
+  His midnight orisons he told,                                  740
+  A prayer with every bead of gold,
+  Consigned to heaven his cares and woes,
+  And sunk in undisturbed repose,
+  Until the heath-cock shrilly crew,
+  And morning dawned on Benvenue.                                745
+
+
+
+
+CANTO SECOND
+
+THE ISLAND
+
+
+I
+
+  At morn the blackcock 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,                   5
+    Wafting the stranger on his way again,
+  Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray,
+    And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain,
+  Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan-bane!
+
+
+II
+
+SONG
+
+  "Not faster yonder rowers' might                                10
+    Flings from their oars the spray,
+  Not faster yonder rippling bright,
+  That tracks the shallop's course in light,
+    Melts in the lake away,
+  Than men from memory erase                                      15
+  The benefits of former days;
+  Then, stranger, go! good speed the while,
+  Nor think again of the lonely isle.
+
+  "High place to thee in royal court,
+    High place in battle line,                                    20
+  Good hawk and hound for silvan sport,
+  Where beauty sees the brave resort;
+    The honored meed be thine!
+  True be thy sword, thy friend sincere,
+  Thy lady constant, kind and dear,                               25
+  And lost in love, and friendship's smile
+  Be memory of the lonely isle.
+
+
+III
+
+SONG (_Continued_)
+
+  "But if beneath yon southern sky
+    A plaided stranger roam,
+  Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh,                          30
+  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,                                35
+  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 thou sustain                               40
+    Beneath the fickle gale;
+  Waste not a sigh on fortune changed,
+  On thankless courts, or friends estranged,
+  But come where kindred worth shall smile,
+  To greet thee in the lonely isle."                              45
+
+
+IV
+
+  As died the sounds upon the tide,
+  The shallop reached the mainland side,
+  And ere his onward way he took,
+  The stranger cast a lingering look,
+  Where easily his eye might reach                                50
+  The Harper on the islet beach,
+  Reclined against a blighted tree,
+  As wasted, gray, and worn as he.
+  To minstrel meditation given,
+  His reverend brow was raised to heaven,                         55
+  As from the rising sun to claim
+  A sparkle of inspiring flame.
+  His hand, reclined upon the wire,
+  Seemed watching the awakening fire;
+  So still he sat, as those who wait                              60
+  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.                            65
+
+
+V
+
+  Upon a rock with lichens wild,
+  Beside him Ellen sat and smiled--
+  Smiled she to see the stately drake
+  Lead forth his fleet upon the lake,
+  While her vexed spaniel, from the beach                         70
+  Bayed at the prize beyond his reach?
+  Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows,
+  Why deepened on her cheek the rose?
+  Forgive, forgive, Fidelity!
+  Perchance the maiden smiled to see                              75
+  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,                            80
+  And prize such conquest of her eye!
+
+
+VI
+
+  While yet he loitered on the spot,
+  It seemed as Ellen marked him not;
+  But when he turned him to the glade,
+  One courteous parting sign she made;                            85
+  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,                                  90
+  As at that simple mute farewell.
+  Now with a trusty mountain-guide,
+  And his dark stag-hounds by his side,
+  He parts--the maid, unconscious still,
+  Watched him wind slowly round the hill;                         95
+  But when his stately form was hid,
+  The guardian in her bosom chid--
+  "Thy Malcolm! vain and selfish maid!"
+  'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said--
+  "Not so had Malcolm idly hung                                  100
+  On the smooth phrase of southern tongue;
+  Not so had Malcolm strained his eye
+  Another step than thine to spy.
+  Wake, Allan-bane," aloud she cried,
+  To the old Minstrel by her side--                              105
+  "Arouse thee from thy moody dream!
+  I'll give thy harp heroic theme,
+  And warm thee with a noble name;
+  Pour forth the glory of the Graeme!"
+  Scarce from her lip the word had rushed,                       110
+  When deep the conscious maiden blushed;
+  For of his clan, in hall and bower,
+  Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower.
+
+
+VII
+
+  The Minstrel waked his harp--three times
+  Arose the well-known martial chimes,                           115
+  And thrice their high heroic pride
+  In melancholy murmurs died.
+  "Vainly thou bid'st, O noble maid,"
+  Clasping his withered hands, he said,
+  "Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain,                        120
+  Though all unwont to bid in vain.
+  Alas! than mine a mightier hand
+  Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned!
+  I touch the chords of joy, but low
+  And mournful answer notes of woe;                              125
+  And the proud march, which victors tread,
+  Sinks in the wailing for the dead.
+  O well for me, if mine alone
+  That dirge's deep prophetic tone!
+  If, as my tuneful fathers said,                                130
+  This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed,
+  Can thus its master's fate foretell,
+  Then welcome be the minstrel's knell!
+
+
+VIII
+
+  "But ah! dear lady, thus it sighed
+  The eve thy sainted mother died;                               135
+  And such the sounds which, while I strove
+  To wake a lay of war or love,
+  Came marring all the festal mirth,
+  Appalling me who gave them birth,
+  And, disobedient to my call,                                   140
+  Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall,
+  Ere Douglases to ruin driven,
+  Were exiled from their native heaven.
+  Oh! if yet worse mishap and woe,
+  My master's house must undergo,                                145
+  Or aught but weal to Ellen fair,
+  Brood in these accents of despair,
+  No future bard, sad Harp! shall fling
+  Triumph or rapture from thy string;
+  One short, one final strain shall flow,                        150
+  Fraught with unutterable woe,
+  Then shivered shall thy fragments lie,
+  Thy master cast him down and die!"
+
+
+IX
+
+  Soothing she answered him--"Assuage,
+  Mine honored friend, the fears of age;                         155
+  All melodies to thee are known,
+  That harp has rung, or pipe has blown,
+  In Lowland vale or Highland glen,
+  From Tweed to Spey--what marvel, then,
+  At times, unbidden notes should rise,                          160
+  Confusedly bound in memory's ties,
+  Entangling, as they rush along,
+  The war-march with the funeral song?
+  Small ground is now for boding fear;
+  Obscure, but safe, we rest us here.                            165
+  My sire, in native virtue great,
+  Resigning lordship, lands, and state,
+  Not then to fortune more resigned,
+  Than yonder oak might give the wind;
+  The graceful foliage storms may reave,                         170
+  The noble stem they cannot grieve.
+  For me,"--she stooped, and, looking round,
+  Plucked a blue hare-bell from the ground--
+  "For me, whose memory scarce conveys
+  An image of more splendid days,                                175
+  This little flower, that loves the lea,
+  May well my simple emblem be;
+  It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose
+  That in the king's own garden grows;
+  And when I place it in my hair,                                180
+  Allan, a bard is bound to swear
+  He ne'er saw coronet so fair."
+  Then playfully the chaplet wild
+  She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled.
+
+
+X
+
+  Her smile, her speech, with winning sway,                      185
+  Wiled the old harper's mood away.
+  With such a look as hermits throw,
+  When angels stoop to soothe their woe,
+  He gazed, till fond regret and pride
+  Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied:                         190
+  "Loveliest and best! thou little know'st
+  The rank, the honors, thou hast lost!
+  O might I live to see thee grace,
+  In Scotland's court, thy birth-right place,
+  To see my favorite's step advance,                             195
+  The lightest in the courtly dance,
+  The cause of every gallant's sigh,
+  And leading star of every eye,
+  And theme of every minstrel's art,
+  The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!"                               200
+
+
+XI
+
+  "Fair dreams are these," the maiden cried
+  --Light was her accent, yet she sighed--
+  "Yet is this mossy rock to me
+  Worth splendid chair and canopy;
+  Nor would my footsteps spring more gay                         205
+  In courtly dance than blithe strathspey,
+  Nor half so pleased mine ear incline
+  To royal minstrel's lay as thine.
+  And then for suitors proud and high,
+  To bend before my conquering eye--                             210
+  Thou, flattering bard! thyself wilt say,
+  That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway.
+  The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride,
+  The terror of Loch-Lomond's side,
+  Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay                         215
+  A Lennox foray--for a day."
+
+
+XII
+
+  The ancient bard his glee repressed:
+  "Ill hast thou chosen theme for jest!
+  For who, through all this western wild,
+  Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled!                     220
+  In Holy-Rood a knight he slew;
+  I saw, when back the dirk he drew,
+  Courtiers give place before the stride
+  Of the undaunted homicide;
+  And since, though outlawed, hath his hand                      225
+  Full sternly kept his mountain land.
+  Who else dared give--ah! woe the day,
+  That I such hated truth should say--
+  The Douglas, like a stricken deer,
+  Disowned by every noble peer,                                  230
+  Even the rude refuge we have here?
+  Alas, this wild marauding Chief
+  Alone might hazard our relief,
+  And now thy maiden charms expand,
+  Looks for his guerdon in thy hand;                             235
+  Full soon may dispensation sought,
+  To back his suit, from Rome he brought.
+  Then, though an exile on the hill,
+  Thy father, as the Douglas, still
+  Be held in reverence and fear;                                 240
+  And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear,
+  That thou might'st guide with silken thread,
+  Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread;
+  Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain!
+  Thy hand is on a lion's mane."                                 245
+
+
+XIII
+
+  "Minstrel," the maid replied, and high
+  Her father's soul glanced from her eye,
+  "My debts to Roderick's house I know:
+  All that a mother could bestow,
+  To Lady Margaret's care I owe,                                 250
+  Since first an orphan in the wild
+  She sorrowed o'er her sister's child;
+  To her brave chieftain son, from ire
+  Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire.                        255
+  A deeper, holier debt is owed;
+  And, could I pay it with my blood,
+  Allan! Sir Roderick should command
+  My blood, my life--but not my hand.
+  Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell
+  A votaress in Maronnan's cell;                                 260
+  Rather through realms beyond the sea,
+  Seeking the world's cold charity,
+  Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word,
+  And ne'er the name of Douglas heard,
+  An outcast pilgrim will she rove,                              265
+  Than wed the man she cannot love.
+
+
+XIV
+
+  "Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses gray--
+  That pleading look, what can it say
+  But what I own?--I grant him brave,
+  But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave;                       270
+  And generous--save vindictive mood,
+  Or jealous transport, chafe his blood;
+  I grant him true to friendly band,
+  As his claymore is to his hand;
+  But O! that very blade of steel                                275
+  More mercy for a foe would feel:
+  I grant him liberal, to fling
+  Among his clan the wealth they bring,
+  When back by lake and glen they wind,
+  And in the Lowland leave behind,                               280
+  Where once some pleasant hamlet stood,
+  A mass of ashes slaked with blood.
+  The hand that for my father fought,
+  I honor, as his daughter ought;
+  But can I clasp it reeking red,                                285
+  From peasants slaughtered in their shed?
+  No! wildly while his virtues gleam,
+  They make his passions darker seem,
+  And flash along his spirit high,
+  Like lightning o'er the midnight sky.                          290
+  While yet a child--and children know,
+  Instinctive taught, the friend and foe--
+  I shuddered at his brow of gloom,
+  His shadowy plaid, and sable plume;
+  A maiden grown, I ill could bear                               295
+  His haughty mien and lordly air;
+  But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim,
+  In serious mood, to Roderick's name,
+  I thrill with anguish! or, if e'er
+  A Douglas knew the word, with fear.                            300
+  To change such odious theme were best--
+  What think'st thou of our stranger guest?"
+
+
+XV
+
+  "What think I of him?--woe the while
+  That brought such wanderer to our isle!
+  Thy father's battle-brand, of yore                             305
+  For Tine-man forged by fairy lore.
+  What time he leagued, no longer foes,
+  His Border spears with Hotspur's bows,
+  Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow
+  The footstep of a secret foe.                                  310
+  If courtly spy hath harbored here,
+  What may we for the Douglas fear?
+  What for this island, deemed of old
+  Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold?
+  If neither spy nor foe, I pray                                 315
+  What yet may jealous Roderick say?
+  --Nay, wave not thy disdainful head,
+  Bethink thee of the discord dread,
+  That kindled when at Beltane game
+  Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme;                      320
+  Still, though thy sire the peace renewed,
+  Smolders in Roderick's breast the feud;
+  Beware!--But hark, what sounds are these?
+  My dull ears catch no faltering breeze,
+  No weeping birch, nor aspens wake,                             325
+  Nor breath is dimpling in the lake,
+  Still is the canna's hoary beard,
+  Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard--
+  And hark again! some pipe of war
+  Sends the bold pibroch from afar."                             330
+
+
+XVI
+
+  Far up the lengthened lake were spied
+  Four darkening specks upon the tide,
+  That, slow enlarging on the view,
+  Four manned and masted barges grew,
+  And, bearing downwards from Glengyle,                          335
+  Steered full upon the lonely isle;
+  The point of Brianchoil they passed,
+  And, to the windward as they cast,
+  Against the sun they gave to shine
+  The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine.                         340
+  Nearer and nearer as they bear,
+  Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air.
+  Now might you see the tartans brave,
+  And plaids and plumage dance and wave;
+  Now see the bonnets sink and rise,                             345
+  As his tough oar the rower plies;
+  See, flashing at each sturdy stroke,
+  The wave ascending into smoke;
+  See the proud pipers on the bow,
+  And mark the gaudy streamers flow                              350
+  From their loud chanters down, and sweep
+  The furrowed bosom of the deep,
+  As, rushing through the lake amain,
+  They plied the ancient Highland strain.
+
+
+XVII
+
+  Ever, as on they bore, more loud                               355
+  And louder rung the pibroch proud.
+  At first the sound, by distance tame,
+  Mellowed along the waters came,
+  And, lingering long by cape and bay,
+  Wailed every harsher note away,                                360
+  Then bursting bolder on the ear,
+  The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear;
+  Those thrilling sounds, that call the might
+  Of Old Clan-Alpine to the fight.
+  Thick beat the rapid notes, as when                            365
+  The mustering hundreds shake the glen,
+  And hurrying at the signal dread,
+  The battered earth returns their tread.
+  Then prelude light, of livelier tone,
+  Expressed their merry marching on,                             370
+  Ere peal of closing battle rose,
+  With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows;
+  And mimic din of stroke and ward,
+  As broad sword upon target jarred;
+  And groaning pause, ere yet again,                             375
+  Condensed, the battle yelled amain;
+  The rapid charge, the rallying shout,
+  Retreat borne headlong into rout,
+  And bursts of triumph, to declare
+  Clan-Alpine's conquest--all were there.                        380
+  Nor ended thus the strain; but slow
+  Sunk in a moan prolonged and low,
+  And changed the conquering clarion swell,
+  For wild lament o'er those that fell.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  The war-pipes ceased; but lake and hill                        385
+  Were busy with their echoes still;
+  And, when they slept, a vocal strain
+  Bade their hoarse chorus wake again,
+  While loud a hundred clansmen raise
+  Their voices in their Chieftain's praise.                      390
+  Each boatman, bending to his oar,
+  With measured sweep the burden bore,
+  In such wild cadence, as the breeze
+  Makes through December's leafless trees.
+  The chorus first could Allan know,                             395
+  "Roderick Vich Alpine, ho! iro!"
+  And near, and nearer as they rowed,
+  Distinct the martial ditty flowed.
+
+
+XIX
+
+BOAT SONG
+
+  Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!
+    Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine!                  400
+  Long may the tree, in his banner that glances,
+    Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line!
+          Heaven send it happy dew,
+          Earth lend it sap anew,
+    Gayly to borgeon, and broadly to grow,                       405
+          While every Highland glen
+          Sends our shout back again,
+    "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"
+
+  Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,
+    Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade;                      410
+  When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain,
+    The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade.
+          Moored in the rifted rock,
+          Proof to the tempest's shock,
+    Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;                       415
+          Menteith and Breadalbane, then,
+          Echo his praise again,
+    "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"
+
+
+XX
+
+  Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin,
+    And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied;                420
+  Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin,
+    And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side.
+          Widow and Saxon maid
+          Long shall lament our raid,
+    Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe;                 425
+          Lennox and Leven-glen
+          Shake when they hear again
+    "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"
+
+  Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the highlands!
+    Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine!               430
+  O that the rose-bud that graces yon islands,
+    Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine!
+          O that some seedling gem,
+          Worthy such noble stem,
+    Honored and blest in their shadow might grow;
+          Loud should Clan-Alpine then
+          Ring from her deepmost glen,
+    "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"
+
+
+XXI
+
+  With all her joyful female band,
+  Had Lady Margaret sought the strand.                           440
+  Loose on the breeze their tresses flew,
+  And high their snowy arms they threw,
+  As echoing back with shrill acclaim,
+  And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name;
+  While, prompt to please, with mother's art,                    445
+  The darling passion of his heart,
+  The Dame called Ellen to the strand,
+  To greet her kinsman ere he land:
+  "Come, loiterer, come! a Douglas thou,
+  And shun to wreathe a victor's brow?"                          450
+  Reluctantly and slow, the maid
+  The unwelcome summoning obeyed,
+  And, when a distant bugle rung,
+  In the mid-path aside she sprung:
+  "List Allan-bane! From mainland cast                           455
+  I hear my father's signal blast.
+  Be ours," she cried, "the skiff to guide,
+  And waft him from the mountain side."
+  Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright,
+  She darted to her shallop light,                               460
+  And, eagerly while Roderick scanned,
+  For her dear form, his mother's band,
+  The islet far behind her lay,
+  And she had landed in the bay.
+
+
+XXII
+
+  Some feelings are to mortals given,                            465
+  With less of earth in them than heaven:
+  And if there be a human tear
+  From passion's dross refined and clear,
+  A tear so limpid and so meek,
+  It would not stain an angel's cheek,                           470
+  'Tis that which pious fathers shed
+  Upon a duteous daughter's head!
+  And as the Douglas to his breast
+  His darling Ellen closely pressed,
+  Such holy drops her tresses steeped,                           475
+  Though 'twas an hero's eye that weeped.
+  Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue
+  Her filial welcomes crowded hung,
+  Marked she, that fear, affection's proof,
+  Still held a graceful youth aloof;                             480
+  No! not till Douglas named his name,
+  Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  Allan, with wistful look the while,
+  Marked Roderick landing on the isle;
+  His master piteously he eyed.                                  485
+  Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride,
+  Then dashed, with hasty hand, away
+  From his dimmed eye the gathering spray;
+  And Douglas, as his hand he laid
+  On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said,                            490
+  "Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy
+  In my poor follower's glistening eye?
+  I'll tell thee: he recalls the day,
+  When in my praise he led the lay
+  O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud,                        495
+  While many a minstrel answered loud,
+  When Percy's Norman pennon, won
+  In bloody field, before me shone,
+  And twice ten knights, the least a name
+  As mighty as yon Chief may claim,                              500
+  Gracing my pomp, behind me came.
+  Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud
+  Was I of all that marshaled crowd,
+  Though the waned crescent owned my might,
+  And in my train trooped lord and knight,                       505
+  Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays,
+  And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise,
+  As when this old man's silent tear,
+  And this poor maid's affection dear,
+  A welcome give more kind and true,                             510
+  Than aught my better fortunes knew.
+  Forgive, my friend, a father's boast,
+  Oh! it out-beggars all I lost!"
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  Delightful praise!--like summer rose,
+  That brighter in the dew-drop glows,                           515
+  The bashful maiden's cheek appeared,
+  For Douglas spoke and Malcolm heard.
+  The flush of shame-faced joy to hide,
+  The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide;
+  The loved caresses of the maid                                 520
+  The dogs with crouch and whimper paid;
+  And, at her whistle, on her hand
+  The falcon took his favorite stand,
+  Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye,
+  Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly.                           525
+  And, trust, while in such guise she stood,
+  Like fabled Goddess of the wood,
+  That if a father's partial thought
+  O'erweighed her worth, and beauty aught,
+  Well might the lover's judgment fail                           530
+  To balance with a juster scale;
+  For with each secret glance he stole,
+  The fond enthusiast sent his soul.
+
+
+XXV
+
+  Of stature tall, and slender frame,
+  But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme.                           535
+  The belted plaid and tartan hose
+  Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose;
+  His flaxen hair, of sunny hue,
+  Curled closely round his bonnet blue.
+  Trained to the chase, his eagle eye                            540
+  The ptarmigan in snow could spy;
+  Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath,
+  He knew, through Lennox and Menteith;
+  Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe,
+  When Malcolm bent his sounding bow,                            545
+  And scarce that doe, though winged with fear,
+  Outstripped in speed the mountaineer;
+  Right up Ben-Lomond could he press,
+  And not a sob his toil confess.
+  His form accorded with a mind                                  550
+  Lively and ardent, frank and kind;
+  A blither heart, till Ellen came,
+  Did never love nor sorrow tame;
+  It danced as lightsome in his breast,
+  As played the feather on his crest.                            555
+  Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth,
+  His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth,
+  And bards, who saw his features bold,
+  When kindled by the tales of old,
+  Said, were that youth to manhood grown,                        560
+  Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown
+  Be foremost voiced by mountain fame,
+  But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme.
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  Now back they wend their watery way,
+  And, "O my sire!" did Ellen say,                               565
+  "Why urge thy chase so far astray?
+  And why so late returned? And why"--
+  The rest was in her speaking eye.
+  "My child, the chase I follow far,
+  'Tis mimicry of noble war;                                     570
+  And with that gallant pastime reft
+  Were all of Douglas I have left.
+  I met young Malcolm as I strayed
+  Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade,
+  Nor strayed I safe; for all around,                            575
+  Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground.
+  This youth, though still a royal ward,
+  Risked life and land to be my guard,
+  And through the passes of the wood
+  Guided my steps, not unpursued;                                580
+  And Roderick shall his welcome make,
+  Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake.
+  Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen,
+  Nor peril aught for me again."
+
+
+XXVII
+
+  Sir Roderick, who to meet them came,                           585
+  Reddened at sight of Malcolm Graeme,
+  Yet, not in action, word, or eye,
+  Failed aught in hospitality.
+  In talk and sport they whiled away
+  The morning of that summer day;                                590
+  But at high noon a courier light
+  Held secret parley with the knight,
+  Whose moody aspect soon declared,
+  That evil were the news he heard.
+  Deep thought seemed toiling in his head;                       595
+  Yet was the evening banquet made,
+  Ere he assembled round the flame,
+  His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme,
+  And Ellen too; then cast around
+  His eyes, then fixed them on the ground,                       600
+  As studying phrase that might avail
+  Best to convey unpleasant tale.
+  Long with his dagger's hilt he played,
+  Then raised his haughty brow, and said:
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+  "Short be my speech--nor time affords,                         605
+  Nor my plain temper, glozing words.
+  Kinsman and father--if such name
+  Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim;
+  Mine honored mother--Ellen--why,
+  My cousin, turn away thine eye?--                              610
+  And Graeme, in whom I hope to know
+  Full soon a noble friend or foe,
+  When age shall give thee thy command,
+  And leading in thy native land--
+  List all--The King's vindictive pride                          615
+  Boasts to have tamed the Border-side,
+  Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came
+  To share their monarch's silvan game,
+  Themselves in bloody toils were snared;
+  And when the banquet they prepared,                            620
+  And wide their loyal portals flung,
+  O'er their own gateway struggling hung.
+  Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead,
+  From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed,
+  Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide,                       625
+  And from the silver Teviot's side;
+  The dales, where martial clans did ride,
+  Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide.
+  This tyrant of the Scottish throne,
+  So faithless, and so ruthless known,                           630
+  Now hither comes; his end the same,
+  The same pretext of silvan game.
+  What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye
+  By fate of Border chivalry.
+  Yet more; amid Glenfinlas' green,                              635
+  Douglas, thy stately form was seen.
+  This by espial sure I know:
+  Your counsel in the strait I show."
+
+
+XXIX
+
+  Ellen and Margaret fearfully
+  Sought comfort in each other's eye,                            640
+  Then turned their ghastly look, each one,
+  This to her sire, that to her son.
+  The hasty color went and came
+  In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme;
+  But from his glance it well appeared,                          645
+  'Twas but for Ellen that he feared;
+  While, sorrowful, but undismayed,
+  The Douglas thus his counsel said:
+  "Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar,
+  It may but thunder and pass o'er;                              650
+  Nor will I here remain an hour,
+  To draw the lightning on thy bower;
+  For well thou know'st, at this gray head
+  The royal bolt were fiercest sped.
+  For thee, who, at thy King's command,                          655
+  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,                                  660
+  The refuge of some forest cell,
+  There, like the hunted quarry, dwell,
+  Till on the mountain and the moor,
+  The stern pursuit be passed and o'er."
+
+
+XXX
+
+  "No, by mine honor," Roderick said,                            665
+  "So help me Heaven, and my good blade!
+  No, never! Blasted be yon Pine,
+  My fathers' ancient crest and mine,
+  If from its shade in danger part
+  The lineage of the Bleeding Heart!                             670
+  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                       675
+  Will bind to us each Western Chief.
+  When the loud pipes my bridal tell,
+  The Links of Forth shall hear the knell,
+  The guards shall start in Stirling's porch;
+  And, when I light the nuptial torch,                           680
+  A thousand villages in flames
+  Shall scare the slumbers of King James!
+  --Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away,
+  And, mother, cease these signs, I pray;
+  I meant not all my heat might say.                             685
+  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 foiled king, from pathless glen,                      690
+  Shall bootless turn him home again."
+
+
+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,                               695
+  Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream,
+  Till wakened by the morning beam;
+  When, dazzled by the eastern glow,
+  Such startler cast his glance below,
+  And saw unmeasured depth around,                               700
+  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,                             705
+  Headlong to plunge himself below,
+  And meet the worst his fears foreshow?
+  Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound,
+  As sudden ruin yawned around,
+  By crossing terrors wildly tossed,                             710
+  Still for the Douglas fearing most,
+  Could scarce the desperate thought withstand,
+  To buy his safety with her hand.
+
+
+XXXII
+
+  Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy
+  In Ellen's quivering lip and eye,                              715
+  And eager rose to speak--but ere
+  His tongue could hurry forth his fear,
+  Had Douglas marked the hectic strife,
+  Where death seemed combating with life;
+  For to her cheek, in feverish flood,                           720
+  One instant rushed 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;                              725
+  Not that the blush to wooer dear,
+  Nor paleness that of maiden fear.
+  It may not be--forgive her, Chief,
+  Nor hazard aught for our relief.
+  Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er                           730
+  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;                               735
+  I love him still, despite my wrongs,
+  By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues.
+  O seek the grace you well may find,
+  Without a cause to mine combined."
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+  Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode;                   740
+  The waving of his tartans broad,
+  And darkened brow, where wounded pride
+  With ire and disappointment vied,
+  Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light,
+  Like the ill Demon of the night,                               745
+  Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway
+  Upon the knighted pilgrim's way.
+  But, unrequited Love! thy dart
+  Plunged deepest its envenomed smart,
+  And Roderick, with thine anguish stung,                        750
+  At length the hand of Douglas wrung,
+  While eyes, that mocked at tears before,
+  With bitter drops were running o'er.
+  The death-pangs of long-cherished hope
+  Scarce in that ample breast had scope,                         755
+  But, struggling with his spirit proud,
+  Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud,
+  While every sob--so mute were all--
+  Was heard distinctly through the hall.
+  The son's despair, the mother's look,                          760
+  Ill might the gentle Ellen brook;
+  She rose, and to her side there came,
+  To aid her parting steps, the Graeme.
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+  Then Roderick from the Douglas broke--
+  As flashes flame through sable smoke,                          765
+  Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low,
+  To one broad blaze of ruddy glow,
+  So the deep anguish of despair
+  Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air.
+  With stalwart grasp his hand he laid                           770
+  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,                         775
+  Thank thou for punishment delayed."
+  Eager as a greyhound on his game
+  Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme.
+  "Perish my name, if aught afford
+  Its Chieftain's safety save his sword!"                        780
+  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!                       785
+  I hold the first who strikes, my foe.
+  Madmen, forbear your frantic jar!
+  What! is the Douglas fallen so far,
+  His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil
+  Of such dishonorable broil!"                                   790
+  Sullen and slowly they unclasp,
+  As struck with shame, their desperate grasp,
+  And each upon his rival glared,
+  With foot advanced, and blade half bared.
+
+
+XXXV
+
+  Ere yet the brands aloft were flung                            795
+  Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung,
+  And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream,
+  As faltered through terrific dream.
+  Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword
+  And veiled his wrath in scornful word:                         800
+  "Rest safe till morning; pity 'twere
+  Such cheek should feel the midnight air!
+  Then mayest thou to James Stuart tell,
+  Roderick will keep the lake and fell,
+  Nor lackey, with his freeborn clan,                            805
+  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."                         810
+  Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold,
+  "Fear nothing for thy favorite hold;
+  The spot, an angel deigned to grace,
+  Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place.
+  Thy churlish courtesy for those                                815
+  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.--                           820
+  Brave Douglas--lovely Ellen--nay,
+  Nought here of parting will I say.
+  Earth does not hold a lonesome glen
+  So secret but we meet again.--
+  Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,"                         825
+  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                          830
+  The Fiery Cross should circle o'er
+  Dale, glen, and valley, down, and moor.
+  Much were the peril to the Graeme
+  From those who to the signal came;
+  Far up the lake 'twere safest land,                            835
+  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 rolled,
+  His ample plaid in tightened fold,                             840
+  And stripped 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 pressed--                        845
+  "Oh, could I point a place of rest!
+  My sovereign holds in ward my land,
+  My uncle leads my vassal band;
+  To tame his foes, his friends to aid,
+  Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade.                          850
+  Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme,
+  Who loves the chieftain of his name,
+  Not long shall honored Douglas dwell
+  Like hunted stag in mountain cell;
+  Nor, ere yon pride-swoll'n robber dare,                        855
+  I might not give the rest to air!
+  Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him nought,
+  Not the poor service of a boat,
+  To waft me to yon mountain-side."
+  Then plunged he in the flashing tide.                          860
+  Bold o'er the flood his head he bore,
+  And stoutly steered him from the shore;
+  And Allan strained his anxious eye,
+  Far mid the lake his form to spy,
+  Darkening across each puny wave,                               865
+  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.                              870
+  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 marveling boyhood legends store
+    Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea,
+  How are they blotted from the things that be!                    5
+    How few, all weak and withered 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,                     10
+    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,                  15
+  What time aloft their kindred banner flew,
+    While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound,
+  And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round.
+
+
+II
+
+  The summer dawn's reflected hue
+  To purple changed Loch Katrine blue;                            20
+  Mildly and soft the western breeze
+  Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees,
+  And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,
+  Trembled but dimpled not for joy;
+  The mountain-shadows on her breast                              25
+  Were neither broken nor at rest;
+  In bright uncertainty they lie,
+  Like future joys to Fancy's eye.
+  The water-lily to the light
+  Her chalice reared of silver bright;                            30
+  The doe awoke, and to the lawn,
+  Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn;
+  The gray mist left the mountain side,
+  The torrent showed its glistening pride;
+  Invisible in fleckéd sky,                                       35
+  The lark sent down her revelry;
+  The blackbird and the speckled thrush,
+  Good-morrow gave from brake and bush;
+  In answer cooed the cushat dove
+  Her notes of peace, and rest, and love.                         40
+
+
+III
+
+  No thought of peace, no thought of rest,
+  Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast.
+  With sheathéd broadsword in his hand,
+  Abrupt he paced the islet strand,
+  And eyed the rising sun, and laid                               45
+  His hand on his impatient blade.
+  Beneath a rock, his vassals' care
+  Was prompt the ritual to prepare,
+  With deep and deathful meaning fraught;
+  For such Antiquity had taught                                   50
+  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,                           55
+  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.                             60
+
+
+IV
+
+  A heap of withered 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,                                 65
+  Barefooted, in his frock and hood.
+  His grizzled beard and matted hair
+  Obscured a visage of despair;
+  His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er,
+  The scars of frantic penance bore.                              70
+  That monk, of savage form and face,
+  The impending danger of his race
+  Had drawn from deepest solitude,
+  Far in Benharrow's bosom rude.
+  Not his the mien of Christian priest,                           75
+  But Druid's, from the grave released,
+  Whose hardened heart and eye might brook
+  On human sacrifice to look;
+  And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore
+  Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er.                           80
+  The hallowed creed gave only worse
+  And deadlier emphasis of curse;
+  No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer,
+  His cave the pilgrim shunned with care,
+  The eager huntsman knew his bound,                              85
+  And in mid chase called off his hound;
+  Or if, in lonely glen or strath,
+  The desert-dweller met his path,
+  He prayed, and signed the cross between,
+  While terror took devotion's mien.                              90
+
+
+V
+
+  Of Brian's birth strange tales were told.
+  His mother watched a midnight fold,
+  Built deep within a dreary glen,
+  Where scattered lay the bones of men
+  In some forgotten battle slain,                                 95
+  And bleached by drifting wind and rain.
+  It might have tamed a warrior's heart,
+  To view such mockery of his art!
+  The knot-grass fettered there the hand
+  Which once could burst an iron band;                           100
+  Beneath the broad and ample bone,
+  That bucklered heart to fear unknown,
+  A feeble and a timorous guest,
+  The fieldfare framed her lowly nest;
+  There the slow blindworm left his slime                        105
+  On the fleet limbs that mocked at time;
+  And there, too, lay the leader's skull,
+  Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full,
+  For heath-bell with her purple bloom
+  Supplied the bonnet and the plume.                             110
+  All night, in this sad glen, the maid
+  Sat, 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                              115
+  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,                                120
+  But locked her secret in her breast,
+  And died in travail, unconfessed.
+
+
+VI
+
+  Alone, among his young compeers,
+  Was Brian from his infant years;
+  A moody and heartbroken boy,                                   125
+  Estranged from sympathy and joy,
+  Bearing each taunt with careless tongue
+  On his mysterious lineage flung.
+  Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale,
+  To wood and stream his hap to wail,                            130
+  Till, frantic, he as truth received
+  What of his birth the crowd believed,
+  And sought, in mist and meteor fire,
+  To meet and know his Phantom Sire!
+  In vain, to soothe his wayward fate,                           135
+  The cloister oped her pitying gate;
+  In vain, the learning of the age
+  Unclasped the sable-lettered page;
+  Even in its treasures he could find
+  Food for the fever of his mind.                                140
+  Eager he read whatever tells
+  Of magic, cabala, and spells,
+  And every dark pursuit allied
+  To curious and presumptuous pride;
+  Till with fired brain and nerves o'erstrung,                   145
+  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 specter's child.                        150
+  Where with black cliffs the torrents toil,
+  He watched the wheeling eddies boil,
+  Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes
+  Beheld the River Demon rise;
+  The mountain mist took form and limb,                          155
+  Of noontide hag, or goblin grim;
+  The midnight wind came wild and dread,
+  Swelled with the voices of the dead;
+  Far on the future battle-heath
+  His eyes beheld the ranks of death.                            160
+  Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled,
+  Shaped forth a disembodied world.
+  One lingering sympathy of mind
+  Still bound him to the mortal kind;
+  The only parent he could claim                                 165
+  Of ancient Alpine 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                             170
+  Along Benharrow's shingly side,
+  Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride;
+  The thunderbolt had split the pine--
+  All augured ill to Alpine's line.
+  He girt his loins, and came to show                            175
+  The signals of impending woe,
+  And now stood prompt 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,                            180
+  Before the kindling pile was laid,
+  And pierced by Roderick's ready blade.
+  Patient the sickening victim eyed
+  The life-blood ebb in crimson tide,
+  Down his clogged beard and shaggy limb,                        185
+  Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim.
+  The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer,
+  A slender crosslet formed with care,
+  A cubit's length in measure due;
+  The shaft and limbs were rods of yew,                          190
+  Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave
+  Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave,
+  And, answering Lomond's breezes deep,
+  Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep.
+  The Cross, thus formed, he held on high,                       195
+  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,                                 200
+  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,                         205
+  But, from his sires and kindred thrust,
+  Each clansman's execration just
+            Shall doom him wrath and woe."
+  He paused--the word the vassals took,
+  With forward step and fiery look,                              210
+  On high their naked brands they shook,
+  Their clattering targets wildly strook;
+            And first in murmur low,
+  Then, like the billow in his course,
+  That far to seaward finds his source,                          215
+  And flings to shore his mustered force,
+  Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse,
+            "Woe to the traitor, woe!"
+  Ben-an's grey scalp the accents knew,
+  The joyous wolf from cover drew,                               220
+  The exulting eagle screamed afar--
+  They knew the voice of Alpine's war.
+
+
+X
+
+  The shout was hushed on lake and fell,
+  The Monk resumed his muttered spell;
+  Dismal and low its accents came,                               225
+  The while he scathed the Cross with flame:
+  And the few words that reached the air,
+  Although the holiest name was there,
+  Had more of blasphemy than prayer.
+  But when he shook above the crowd                              230
+  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,                              235
+          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,                        240
+          And infamy and woe."
+  Then rose the cry of females, shrill
+  As goshawk's whistle on the hill,
+  Denouncing misery and ill,
+  Mingled with childhood's babbling trill                        245
+          Of curses stammered slow;
+  Answering, with imprecation dread,
+  "Sunk be his home in embers red!
+  And curséd be the meanest shed
+  That e'er shall hide the houseless head                        250
+          We doom to want and woe!"
+  A sharp and shrieking echo gave,
+  Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave!
+  And the gray pass where birches wave,
+          On Beala-nam-bo.                                       255
+
+
+XI
+
+  Then deeper paused the priest anew,
+  And hard his laboring breath he drew,
+  While, with set teeth and clenched hand,
+  And eyes that glowed like fiery brand,
+  He meditated curse more dread,                                 260
+  And deadlier, on the clansman's head,
+  Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid,
+  The signal saw and disobeyed.
+  The crosslet's points of sparkling wood
+  He quenched among the bubbling blood,                          265
+  And, as again the sign he reared,
+  Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard:
+  "When flits this Cross from man to man,
+  Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan,
+  Burst be the ear that fails to heed!                           270
+  Palsied the foot that shuns to speed!
+  May ravens tear the careless eyes,
+  Wolves make the coward heart their prize!
+  As sinks that blood-stream in the earth,
+  So may his heart's blood drench his hearth!                    275
+  As dies in hissing gore the spark,
+  Quench thou his light, Destruction dark!
+  And be the grace to him denied,
+  Bought by this sign to all beside!"
+  He ceased; no echo gave again                                  280
+  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.                            285
+  "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,                           290
+  So rapidly the barge-men row,
+  The bubbles, where they launched the boat,
+  Were all unbroken and afloat,
+  Dancing in foam and ripple still,
+  When it had neared the mainland hill;                          295
+  And from the silver beach's side
+  Still was the prow three fathom wide,
+  When lightly bounded to the land
+  The messenger of blood and brand.
+
+
+XIII
+
+  Speed, Malise, speed! the dun deer's hide                      300
+  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;                        305
+  With short and springing footstep pass
+  The trembling bog and false morass;
+  Across the brook like roebuck bound,
+  And thread the brake like questing hound;
+  The crag is high, the scar is deep,                            310
+  Yet shrink not from the desperate leap:
+  Parched are thy burning lips and brow.
+  Yet by the fountain pause not now;
+  Herald of battle, fate, and fear,
+  Stretch onward in thy fleet career!                            315
+  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,                           320
+  Are in thy course--speed, Malise, speed!
+
+
+XIV
+
+  Fast as the fatal symbol flies,
+  In arms the huts and hamlets rise;
+  From winding glen, from upland brown,
+  They poured each hardy tenant down.                            325
+  Nor slacked the messenger his pace;
+  He showed the sign, he named the place,
+  And, pressing forward like the wind,
+  Left clamor and surprise behind.
+  The fisherman forsook the strand,                              330
+  The swarthy smith took dirk and brand;
+  With changéd cheer, the mower blithe
+  Left in the half-cut swathe the scythe;
+  The herds without a keeper strayed,
+  The plow was in mid-furrow stayed,                             335
+  The falc'ner tossed his hawk away,
+  The hunter left the stag at bay;
+  Prompt at the signal of alarms,
+  Each son of Alpine rushed to arms;
+  So swept the tumult and affray                                 340
+  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,                                   345
+  The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud
+  Seems for the scene too gaily loud.
+
+
+XV
+
+  Speed, Malise, speed! the lake is past,
+  Duncraggan's huts appear at last,
+  And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen,                    350
+  Half hidden in the copse so green;
+  There mayst thou rest, thy labor done,
+  Their Lord shall speed the signal on.
+  As stoops the hawk upon his prey,
+  The henchman shot him down the way.                            355
+  --What woeful 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,                               360
+  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.                         365
+  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,                                    370
+    He is lost to the forest,
+  Like a summer-dried fountain,
+    When our need was the sorest.
+  The font, reappearing,
+    From the raindrops shall borrow,                             375
+  But to us comes no cheering,
+    To Duncan no morrow!
+
+  The hand of the reaper
+    Takes the ears that are hoary,
+  But the voice of the weeper                                    380
+    Wails manhood in glory.
+  The autumn winds rushing
+    Waft the leaves that are searest,
+  But our flower was in flushing,
+    When blighting was nearest.                                  385
+
+  Fleet foot on the correi,
+    Sage counsel in cumber,
+  Red hand in the foray,
+    How sound is thy slumber!
+  Like dew on the mountain,                                      390
+    Like the foam on the river,
+  Like the bubble on the fountain
+    Thou art gone, and forever!
+
+
+XVII
+
+  See Stumah, who, the bier beside,
+  His master's corpse with wonder eyed--                         395
+  Poor Stumah! whom his least halloo
+  Could send like lightning o'er the dew,
+  Bristles his crest, and points his ears,
+  As if some stranger step he hears.
+  'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread,                            400
+  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;                             405
+  Before the dead man's bier he stood;
+  Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood:
+  "The muster-place is Lanrick mead;
+  Speed forth the signal! clansmen, speed!"
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  Angus, the heir of Duncan's line,                              410
+  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,                                 415
+  Back to her opened arms he flew,
+  Pressed on her lips a fond adieu--
+  "Alas!" she sobbed--"and yet be gone,
+  And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son!"
+  One look he cast upon the bier,                                420
+  Dashed from his eye the gathering tear,
+  Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast,
+  And tossed aloft his bonnet crest,
+  Then, like the high-bred colt, when, freed,
+  First he essays his fire and speed,                            425
+  He vanished, 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 marked the henchman's eye                         430
+  Wet with unwonted sympathy,
+  "Kinsman," she said, "his race is run,
+  That should have sped thine errand on;
+  The oak has fallen--the sapling bough
+  Is all Duncraggan's shelter now.                               435
+  Yet trust I well, his duty done,
+  The orphan's God will guard my son.
+  And you, in many a danger true,
+  At Duncan's hest your blades that drew,
+  To arms, and guard that orphan's head!                         440
+  Let babes and women wail the dead."
+  Then weapon-clang and martial call
+  Resounded through the funeral hall,
+  While from the walls the attendant band
+  Snatched sword and targe, with hurried hand;                   445
+  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 borrowed force;                            450
+  Grief claimed 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;                           455
+  The tear that gathered 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,                       460
+  The chapel of St. Bride was seen.
+  Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge,
+  But Angus paused not on the edge;
+  Though the dark waves danced dizzily,
+  Though reeled his sympathetic eye,                             465
+  He dashed amid the torrent's roar.
+  His right hand high the crosslet bore,
+  His left the pole-ax grasped, to guide
+  And stay his footing in the tide.
+  He stumbled twice--the foam splashed high;                     470
+  With hoarser swell the stream raced by;
+  And had he fallen--forever there,
+  Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir!
+  But still, as if in parting life,
+  Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife,                         475
+  Until the opposing bank he gained,
+  And up the chapel pathway strained.
+
+
+XX
+
+  A blithesome rout, that morning tide,
+  Had sought the chapel of St. Bride.
+  Her troth Tombea's Mary gave                                   480
+  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;                              485
+  And plaided youth, with jest and jeer,
+  Which snooden maiden would not hear:
+  And children, that, unwitting why,
+  Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry;
+  And minstrels, that in measures vied                           490
+  Before the young and bonny bride,
+  Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose
+  The tear and blush of morning rose.
+  With virgin step, and bashful hand,
+  She held the kerchief's snowy band;                            495
+  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?                         500
+  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-soiled he stood,                            505
+  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,                           510
+  Just linked 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                                515
+  The bridegroom from the plighted bride?
+  O fatal doom!--it must! it must!
+  Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust,
+  Her summons dread, brook no delay;
+  Stretch to the race--away! away!                               520
+
+
+XXII
+
+  Yet slow he laid his plaid aside,
+  And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride,
+  Until he saw the starting tear
+  Speak woe he might not stop to cheer;
+  Then, trusting not a second look,                              525
+  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 stirred?
+  The sickening pang of hope deferred,                           530
+  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,                                535
+  Ere yet they rush upon the spears;
+  And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning,
+  And hope, from well-fought field returning,
+  With war's red honors on his crest,
+  To clasp his Mary to his breast.                               540
+  Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae,
+  Like fire from flint he glanced away,
+  While high resolve, and feeling strong,
+  Burst into voluntary song.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+SONG
+
+  The heath this night must be my bed,                           545
+  The bracken curtain for my head,
+  My lullaby the warder's tread,
+        Far, far, from love and thee, Mary;
+  To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,
+  My couch may be my bloody plaid,                               550
+  My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid!
+        It will not waken me, Mary!
+  I may not, dare not, fancy now
+  The grief that clouds thy lovely brow,
+  I dare not think upon thy vow,                                 555
+        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.                          560
+
+  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 returned from conquered foes,                           565
+  How blithely will the evening close,
+  How sweet the linnet sing repose,
+        To my young bride and me, Mary!
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  Not faster o'er thy heathery braes,
+  Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze,                         570
+  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,                              575
+  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
+  Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course;                           580
+  Thence southward turned its rapid road
+  Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad,
+  Till rose in arms each man might claim
+  A portion in Clan-Alpine's name,
+  From the gray sire, whose trembling hand                       585
+  Could hardly buckle on his brand,
+  To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow
+  Were yet scarce terror to the crow.
+  Each valley, each sequestered glen,
+  Mustered its little horde of men,                              590
+  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                              595
+  By hundreds prompt for blows and blood,
+  Each trained 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.                            600
+
+
+XXV
+
+  That summer morn had Roderick Dhu
+  Surveyed the skirts of Benvenue,
+  And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath,
+  To view the frontiers of Menteith.
+  All backward came with news of truce;                          605
+  Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce;
+  In Rednoch courts no horsemen wait,
+  No banner waved on Cardross gate,
+  On Duchray's towers no beacon shone,
+  Nor scared the herons from Loch Con;                           610
+  All seemed at peace. Now wot ye why
+  The Chieftain, with such anxious eye,
+  Ere to the muster he repair,
+  This western frontier scanned with care?
+  In Benvenue's most darksome cleft,                             615
+  A fair, though cruel, pledge was left;
+  For Douglas, to his promise true,
+  That morning from the isle withdrew,
+  And in a deep sequestered dell
+  Had sought a low and lonely cell.                              620
+  By many a bard, in Celtic tongue,
+  Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung;
+  A softer name the Saxons gave,
+  And called the grot the Goblin-cave.
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  It was a wild and strange retreat,                             625
+  As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet.
+  The dell, upon the mountain's crest,
+  Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast;
+  Its trench had stayed full many a rock,
+  Hurled by primeval earthquake shock                            630
+  From Benvenue's gray summit wild,
+  And here, in random ruin piled,
+  They frowned incumbent o'er the spot,
+  And formed the rugged silvan grot.
+  The oak and birch, with mingled shade,                         635
+  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.                                  640
+  No murmur waked the solemn still,
+  Save tinkling of a fountain rill;
+  But when the wind chafed with the lake,
+  A sullen sound would upward break,
+  With dashing hollow voice, that spoke                          645
+  The incessant war of wave and rock.
+  Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway,
+  Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray.
+  From such a den the wolf had sprung,
+  In such the wild-cat leaves her young;                         650
+  Yet Douglas and his daughter fair
+  Sought for a space their safety there.
+  Gray Superstition's whisper dread
+  Debarred the spot to vulgar tread;
+  For there, she said, did fays resort,                          655
+  And satyrs hold their silvan court,
+  By moonlight tread their mystic maze,
+  And blast the rash beholder's gaze.
+
+
+XXVII
+
+  Now eve, with western shadows long,
+  Floated on Katrine bright and strong,                          660
+  When Roderick, with a chosen few,
+  Repassed the heights of Benvenue.
+  Above the Goblin-cave they go,
+  Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo:
+  The prompt retainers speed before,                             665
+  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 musing mind,                             670
+  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 by the lake.                                675
+  It was a fair and gallant sight,
+  To view them from the neighboring height,
+  By the low-leveled sunbeam's light!
+  For strength and stature, from the clan
+  Each warrior was a chosen man,                                 680
+  As even afar might well be seen,
+  By their proud step and martial mien.
+  Their feathers dance, their tartans float,
+  Their targets gleam, as by the boat
+  A wild and warlike group they stand,                           685
+  That well became such mountain-strand.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+  Their Chief, with step reluctant, still
+  Was lingering on the craggy hill,
+  Hard by where turned apart the road
+  To Douglas's obscure abode.                                    690
+  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,                           695
+  And fetters flame with flaxen band,
+  Has yet a harder task to prove--
+  By firm resolve to conquer love!
+  Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost,
+  Still hovering near his treasure lost;                         700
+  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                               705
+  That waked to sound the rustling trees.
+  But hark! what mingles in the strain?
+  It is the harp of Allan-bane,
+  That wakes its measures slow and high,
+  Attuned to sacred minstrelsy.                                  710
+  What melting voice attends the strings?
+  'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings.
+
+
+XXIX
+
+HYMN TO THE VIRGIN
+
+  _Ave Maria!_ maiden mild!
+    Listen to a maiden's prayer!
+  Thou canst hear though from the wild,                          715
+    Thou canst save amid despair.
+  Safe may we sleep beneath thy care,
+    Though banished, outcast, and reviled--
+  Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer;
+    Mother, hear a suppliant child!                              720
+                                    _Ave Maria!_
+  _Ave Maria!_ undefiled!
+    The flinty couch we now must share
+  Shall seem with down of eider piled,
+    If thy protection hover there.                               725
+  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!_                 730
+  _Ave Maria!_ stainless styled!
+    Foul demons of the earth and air,
+  From this their wonted haunt exiled,
+    Shall flee before thy presence fair.
+  We bow us to our lot of care,                                  735
+    Beneath thy guidance reconciled;
+  Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer,
+    And for a father hear a child!
+                                    _Ave Maria!_
+
+
+XXX
+
+  Died on the harp the closing hymn--                            740
+  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.                            745
+  Then while his plaid he round him cast,
+  "It is the last time--'tis the last,"
+  He muttered thrice, "the last time e'er
+  That angel voice shall Roderick hear!"
+  It was a goading thought--his stride                           750
+  Hied hastier down the mountain side;
+  Sullen he flung him in the boat,
+  And instant 'cross the lake it shot.
+  They landed in that silvery bay,
+  And eastward held their hasty way,                             755
+  Till, with the latest beams of light,
+  The band arrived on Lanrick height,
+  Where mustered, in the vale below,
+  Clan-Alpine's men in martial show.
+
+
+XXXI
+
+  A various scene the clansmen made,                             760
+  Some sat, some stood, some slowly strayed;
+  But most with mantles folded round,
+  Were couched to rest upon the ground,
+  Scarce to be known by curious eye,
+  From the deep heather where they lie,                          765
+  So well was matched the tartan screen
+  With heath-bell dark and brackens green,
+  Unless where, here and there, a blade,
+  Or lance's point, a glimmer made,
+  Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade.                    770
+  But when, advancing through the gloom,
+  They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume,
+  Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide,
+  Shook the steep mountain's steady side.
+  Thrice it arose, and lake and fell                             775
+  Three times returned the martial yell;
+  It died upon Bochastle's plain,
+  And Silence claimed her evening reign.
+
+
+
+
+CANTO FOURTH
+
+THE PROPHECY
+
+
+I
+
+  "The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,
+    And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
+  The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew,
+    And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.
+    O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears,                       5
+  I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave,
+    Emblem of hope and love through future years!"
+  Thus spake young Norman, heir of Armandave,
+  What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave.
+
+
+II
+
+  Such fond conceit, half said, half sung,                        10
+  Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue.
+  All while he stripped the wild-rose spray,
+  His ax and bow beside him lay,
+  For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood,
+  A wakeful sentinel he stood.                                    15
+  Hark! on the rock a footstep rung,
+  And instant to his arms he sprung.
+  "Stand, or thou diest!--What, Malise?--soon
+  Art thou returned from Braes of Doune.
+  By thy keen step and glance I know,                             20
+  Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe."
+  For while the Fiery Cross hied on,
+  On distant scout had Malise gone.--
+  "Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchman said.
+  "Apart, in yonder misty glade;                                  25
+  To his lone couch I'll be your guide."
+  Then called a slumberer by his side,
+  And stirred him with his slackened bow--
+  "Up, up, Glantarkin! rouse thee, ho!
+  We seek the Chieftain; on the track,                            30
+  Keep eagle watch till I come back."
+
+
+III
+
+  Together up the pass they sped:
+  "What of the foeman?" Norman said.
+  "Varying reports from near and far;
+  This certain--that a band of war                                35
+  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                         40
+  Speak on our glens in thunder loud.
+  Inured to bide such bitter bout,
+  The warrior's plaid may bear it out;
+  But, Norman, how wilt thou provide
+  A shelter for thy bonny bride?"                                 45
+  "What! know ye not that Roderick's care
+  To the lone isle hath caused repair
+  Each maid and matron of the clan,
+  And every child and aged man
+  Unfit for arms; and given his charge,                           50
+  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                        55
+  Bespeaks the father of his clan.
+  But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu
+  Apart from all his followers true?"
+  "It is, because last evening-tide
+  Brian an augury hath tried,                                     60
+  Of that dread kind which must not be
+  Unless in dread extremity,
+  The Taghairm called; by which, afar,
+  Our sires foresaw the events of war.
+  Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew."                        65
+
+
+MALISE
+
+  "Ah! Well the gallant brute I knew,
+  The choicest of the prey we had,
+  When swept our merrymen Gallangad.
+  His hide was snow, his horns were dark,
+  His red eye glowed like fiery spark;                            70
+  So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet,
+  Sore did he cumber our retreat,
+  And kept our stoutest kerns in awe,
+  Even at the pass of Beal 'maha.
+  But steep and flinty was the road,                              75
+  And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad,
+  And when we came to Dennan's Row,
+  A child might scatheless stroke his brow."
+
+
+V
+
+NORMAN
+
+  "That bull was slain; his reeking hide
+  They stretched the cataract beside,                             80
+  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.
+  Couched on a shelf beneath its brink,                           85
+  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.                               90
+  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,                             95
+  That hovers o'er a slaughtered host?
+  Or raven on the blasted oak,
+  That, watching while the deer is broke,
+  His morsel claims with sullen croak?"
+
+
+MALISE
+
+  "Peace! peace! to other than to me                             100
+  Thy words were evil augury;
+  But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade
+  Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid,
+  Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell,
+  Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell.                              105
+  The Chieftain joins him, see--and now,
+  Together they descend the brow."
+
+
+VI
+
+  And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord
+  The Hermit Monk held solemn word:
+  "Roderick! it is a fearful strife,                             110
+  For man endowed with mortal life,
+  Whose shroud of sentient clay can still
+  Feel feverish pang and fainting chill,
+  Whose eye can stare in stony trance,
+  Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance--                    115
+  'Tis hard for such to view, unfurled,
+  The curtain of the future world.
+  Yet, witness every quaking limb,
+  My sunken pulse, my eyeballs dim,
+  My soul with harrowing anguish torn--                          120
+  This for my Chieftain have I borne!
+  The shapes that sought my fearful couch,
+  A human tongue may ne'er avouch;
+  No mortal man--save he, who, bred
+  Between the living and the dead,                               125
+  Is gifted beyond nature's law--
+  Had e'er survived to say he saw.
+  At length the fatal answer came,
+  In characters of living flame!
+  Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll,                       130
+  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.                                135
+  Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood,
+  But first our broadswords tasted blood.
+  A surer victim still I know,
+  Self-offered to the auspicious blow:
+  A spy has sought my land this morn--                           140
+  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,                            145
+  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                        150
+  Two Barons proud their banners wave.
+  I saw the Moray's silver star,
+  And marked the sable pale of Mar."
+  "By Alpine's soul, high tidings those!
+  I love to hear of worthy foes.                                 155
+  When move they on?" "Tomorrow's noon
+  Will see them here for battle boune."
+  "Then shall it see a meeting stern!
+  But, for the place--say, couldst thou learn
+  Nought of the friendly clans of Earn?                          160
+  Strengthened by them, we well might bide
+  The battle on Benledi's side.
+  Thou couldst not! Well! Clan-Alpine's men
+  Shall man the Trossachs' shaggy glen;
+  Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight,                       165
+  All in our maids' and matrons' sight,
+  Each for his hearth and household fire,
+  Father for child, and son for sire--
+  Lover for maid beloved! But why--
+  Is it the breeze affects mine eye?                             170
+  Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear!
+  A messenger of doubt and fear?
+  No! sooner may the Saxon lance
+  Unfix Benledi from his stance,
+  Than doubt or terror can pierce through                        175
+  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 broadswords gleam, the banners dance,                      180
+  Obedient to the Chieftain's glance.
+  --I turn me from the martial roar,
+  And seek Coir-Uriskin once more.
+
+
+IX
+
+  Where is the Douglas?--he is gone;
+  And Ellen sits on the gray stone                               185
+  Fast by the cave, and makes her moan;
+  While vainly Allan's words of cheer
+  Are poured on her unheeding ear:
+  "He will return--dear lady trust!
+  With joy return--he will--he must.                             190
+  Well was it time to seek, afar,
+  Some refuge from impending war,
+  When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm
+  Are cowed by the approaching storm.
+  I saw their boats with many a light,                           195
+  Floating the live-long yesternight,
+  Shifting like flashes darted forth
+  By the red streamers of the north;
+  I marked at morn how close they ride,
+  Thick moored by the lone islet's side,                         200
+  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                              205
+  Some safe retreat for thee prepare?"
+
+
+X
+
+ELLEN
+
+  "No, Allan, no! Pretext so kind
+  My wakeful terrors could not blind.
+  When in such tender tone, yet grave,
+  Douglas a parting blessing gave,                               210
+  The tear that glistened in his eye
+  Drowned not his purpose fixed and high.
+  My soul, though feminine and weak,
+  Can image his; e'en as the lake,
+  Itself disturbed by slightest stroke,                          215
+  Reflects the invulnerable rock.
+  He hears the report of battle rife,
+  He deems himself the cause of strife.
+  I saw him redden, when the theme
+  Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream                             220
+  Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound,
+  Which I, thou saidst, about him wound.
+  Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught?
+  Oh, no! 'twas apprehensive thought
+  For the kind youth--for Roderick too--                         225
+  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!'                          230
+  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;                         235
+  He goes to do--what I had done,
+  Had Douglas' daughter been his son!"
+
+
+XI
+
+  "Nay, lovely Ellen!--dearest, nay!
+  If aught should his return delay,
+  He only named yon holy fane                                    240
+  As fitting place to meet again.
+  Be sure he's safe; and for the Graeme--
+  Heaven's blessing on his gallant name!
+  My visioned sight may yet prove true,
+  Nor bode of ill to him or you.                                 245
+  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;                                 250
+  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,                            255
+  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.                             260
+
+
+XII
+
+BALLAD--ALICE BRAND
+
+  Merry it is in the good greenwood,
+    When the mavis and merle are singing,
+  When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,
+    And the hunter's horn is ringing.
+
+  "O Alice Brand, my native land                                 265
+    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,                        270
+  That on the night of our luckless flight,
+    Thy brother bold I slew.
+
+  "Now must I teach to hew the beech
+    The hand that held the glaive,
+  For leaves to spread our lowly bed,                            275
+    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 slaughtered deer,
+    To keep the cold away."                                      280
+
+  "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,                              285
+    Nor thou the crimson sheen,
+  As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray,
+    As gay the forest-green.
+
+  "And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
+    And lost thy native land,                                    290
+  Still Alice has her own Richard,
+    And he his Alice Brand."
+
+
+XIII
+
+BALLAD--(_Continued_)
+
+  'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,
+    So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
+  On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side,                    295
+    Lord Richard's ax is ringing.
+
+  Up spoke the moody Elfin King,
+      Who wonned within the hill,
+  Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,
+      His voice was ghostly shrill.                              300
+
+  "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                                305
+    The fairies' fatal green?
+
+  "Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,
+    For thou wert christened man;
+  For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
+    For muttered word or ban.                                    310
+
+  "Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,
+    The curse of the sleepless eye;
+  Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
+    Nor yet find leave to die."
+
+
+XIV
+
+BALLAD--(_Continued_)
+
+  'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,                     315
+    Though the birds have stilled their singing;
+  The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
+    And Richard is fagots bringing.
+
+  Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
+    Before Lord Richard stands,                                  320
+  And, as he crossed and blessed 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,                                     325
+  "And if there's blood upon his hand,
+    'Tis but the blood of deer."
+
+  "Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!
+    It cleaves unto his hand,
+  The stain of thine own kindly blood,                           330
+    The blood of Ethert Brand."
+
+  Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,
+    And made the holy sign,
+  "And if there's blood on Richard's hand,
+    A spotless hand is mine.                                     335
+
+  "And I conjure thee, Demon elf,
+    By Him whom Demons fear,
+  To show us whence thou art thyself,
+    And what thine errand here?"
+
+
+XV
+
+BALLAD--(_Continued_)
+
+  "'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairyland                          340
+    When fairy birds are singing,
+  When the court doth ride by their monarch's side
+    With bit and bridle ringing;
+
+  "And gaily shines the Fairyland--
+    But all is glistening show,                                  345
+  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,                             350
+    And now like dwarf and ape.
+
+  "It was between the night and day,
+    When the Fairy King has power,
+  That I sunk down in a sinful fray,
+  And, 'twixt life and death, was snatched away                  355
+    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."                                    360
+
+  She crossed him once--she crossed him twice--
+    That lady was so brave;
+  The fouler grew his goblin hue,
+    The darker grew the cave.
+
+  She crossed him thrice, that lady bold;                        365
+    He rose beneath her hand
+  The fairest knight on Scottish mold,
+    Her brother, Ethert Brand!
+
+  Merry it is in good greenwood,
+    When the mavis and merle are singing,                        370
+  But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray,
+    When all the bells were ringing.
+
+
+XVI
+
+  Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed,
+  A stranger climbed the steepy glade;
+  His martial step, his stately mien,                            375
+  His hunting suit of Lincoln green,
+  His eagle glance, remembrance claims--
+  'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz-James.
+  Ellen beheld as in a dream,
+  Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream                     380
+  "Oh, 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                              385
+  Met me betimes this morning tide,
+  And marshaled, over bank and bourne,
+  The happy path of my return."
+  "The happy path!--what! said he nought
+  Of war, of battle to be fought,                                390
+  Of guarded pass?" "No, by my faith!
+  Nor saw I ought could augur scathe."
+  "O haste thee, Allan, to the kern,
+  --Yonder his tartans I discern;
+  Learn thou his purpose, and conjure                            395
+  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."                            400
+
+
+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 honor's weighed with death.
+  Then let me profit by my chance,                               405
+  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.                           410
+  Near Bochastle my horses wait;
+  They bear us soon to Stirling gate.
+  I'll place thee in a lovely bower,
+  I'll guard thee like a tender flower"--
+  "O hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art                         415
+  To say I do not read thy heart;
+  Too much, before, my selfish ear
+  Was idly soothed my praise to hear.
+  That fatal bait hath lured thee back,
+  In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track;                        420
+  And how, O how, can I atone
+  The wreck my vanity brought on!--
+  One way remains--I'll tell him all--
+  Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall!
+  Thou, whose light folly bears the blame,                       425
+  Buy thine own pardon with thy shame!
+  But first--my father is a man
+  Outlawed and exiled, under ban;
+  The price of blood is on his head,
+  With me 'twere infamy to wed.                                  430
+  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;                              435
+  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,                         440
+  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,                                    445
+  As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom,
+  And she sat sorrowing on his tomb.
+  Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye,
+  But not with hope fled sympathy.
+  He proffered to attend her side,                               450
+  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."                           455
+  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 crossed his brain,
+  He paused, and turned, and came again.                         460
+
+
+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,                            465
+  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,                           470
+  His lordship the embattled field.
+  What from a prince can I demand,
+  Who neither reck of state nor land?
+  Ellen, thy hand--the ring is thine;
+  Each guard and usher knows the sign.                           475
+  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,                               480
+  Paused--kissed her hand--and then was gone.
+  The aged Minstrel stood aghast,
+  So hastily Fitz-James shot past.
+  He joined his guide, and wending down
+  The ridges of the mountain brown,                              485
+  Across the stream they took their way,
+  That joins Loch Katrine to Achray.
+
+
+XX
+
+  All in the Trossachs' glen was still,
+  Noontide was sleeping on the hill:
+  Sudden his guide whooped loud and high--                       490
+  "Murdoch! was that a signal cry?"
+  He stammered forth--"I shout to scare
+  Yon raven from his dainty fare."
+  He looked--he knew the raven's prey,
+  His own brave steed--"Ah! gallant gray!                        495
+  For thee--for me, perchance--'twere well
+  We ne'er had seen the Trossachs' dell.
+  Murdoch, move first--but silently;
+  Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!"
+  Jealous and sullen on they fared,                              500
+  Each silent, each upon his guard.
+
+
+XXI
+
+  Now wound the path its dizzy ledge
+  Around a precipice's edge,
+  When lo! a wasted female form,
+  Blighted by wrath of sun and storm,                            505
+  In tattered weeds and wild array,
+  Stood on a cliff beside the way,
+  And glancing round her restless eye,
+  Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,
+  Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy.                         510
+  Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom;
+  With gesture wild she waved a plume
+  Of feathers which the eagles fling
+  To crag and cliff from dusky wing;
+  Such spoils her desperate step had sought,                     515
+  Where scarce was footing for the goat.
+  The tartan plaid she first descried,
+  And shrieked till all the rocks replied;
+  As loud she laughed when near they drew,
+  For then the Lowland garb she knew;                            520
+  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 strained and roughened, still                  525
+  Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill.
+
+
+XXII
+
+SONG
+
+  They bid me sleep, they bid me pray,
+    They say my brain is warped and wrung--
+  I cannot sleep on Highland brae,
+    I cannot pray in Highland tongue.                            530
+  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,                         535
+    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 drowned in blood the morning smile!                       540
+  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 gray,                             545
+  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,                             550
+  When Roderick forayed Devan side.
+  The gay bridegroom resistance made,
+  And felt our Chief's unconquered blade.
+  I marvel she is now at large,
+  But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge.                     555
+  Hence, brain-sick fool!"--he raised his bow.
+  "Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow,
+  I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far
+  As ever peasant pitched a bar!"--
+  "Thanks, champion, thanks!" the maniac cried,                  560
+  And pressed her to Fitz-James's side.
+  "See the gray 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!                            565
+  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 stayed,
+  Wave forth a banner fair and free,                             570
+  Meet signal for their revelry."
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  "Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still!"
+  "Oh! thou look'st kindly and I will.
+  Mine eye has dried and wasted been,
+  But still it loves the Lincoln green;                          575
+  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,                      580
+    And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay!
+
+  "It was not that I meant to tell....
+  But thou art wise and guessest well."
+  Then, in a low and broken tone,
+  And hurried note, the song went on.                            585
+  Still on the Clansman, fearfully,
+  She fixed her apprehensive eye;
+  Then turned it on the Knight, and then
+  Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen.
+
+
+XXV
+
+  "The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set,                590
+    Ever sing merrily, merrily;
+  The bows they bend, and the knives they whet,
+    Hunters live so cheerily.
+
+  "It was a stag, a stag of ten,
+    Bearing its branches sturdily;                               595
+  He came stately down the glen,
+    Ever sing hardily, hardily.
+
+  "It was there he met with a wounded doe,
+    She was bleeding deathfully;
+  She warned him of the toils below,                             600
+    Oh, so faithfully, faithfully!
+
+  "He had an eye, and he could heed,
+    Ever sing warily, warily;
+  He had a foot, and he could speed--
+    Hunters watch so narrowly."                                  605
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed,
+  When Ellen's hints and fears were lost;
+  But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought,
+  And Blanche's song conviction brought.
+  Not like a stag that spies the snare,                          610
+  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.                               615
+  The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest,
+  And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast.
+  Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed,
+  For ne'er had Alpine's son such need!
+  With heart of fire, and foot of wind,                          620
+  The fierce avenger is behind!
+  Fate judges of the rapid strife--
+  The forfeit death--the prize is life!
+  Thy kindred ambush lies before,
+  Close couched upon the heathery moor;                          625
+  Them couldst thou reach!--it may not be--
+  Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see,
+  The fiery Saxon gains on thee!
+  Resistless speeds the deadly thrust,
+  As lightning strikes the pine to dust;                         630
+  With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain,
+  Ere he can win his blade again.
+  Bent o'er the fallen, with falcon eye,
+  He grimly smiled to see him die;
+  Then slower wended back his way,                               635
+  Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.
+
+
+XXVII
+
+  She sat beneath a birchen-tree,
+  Her elbow resting on her knee;
+  She had withdrawn the fatal shaft,
+  And gazed on it, and feebly laughed;                           640
+  Her wreath of broom and feathers gray,
+  Daggled with blood, beside her lay.
+  The Knight to staunch the life-stream tried--
+  "Stranger, it is in vain!" she cried.
+  "This hour of death has given me more                          645
+  Of reason's power than years before;
+  For, as these ebbing veins decay,
+  My frenzied visions fade away.
+  A helpless injured wretch I die,
+  And something tells me in thine eye,                           650
+  That thou wert mine avenger born.
+  Seest thou this tress?--Oh! still I've worn
+  This little tress of yellow hair,
+  Through danger, frenzy, and despair!
+  It once was bright and clear as thine,                         655
+  But blood and tears have dimmed 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,                              660
+  Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,
+  And thou wilt bring it me again.
+  I waver still--O God! more bright
+  Let reason beam her parting light!--
+  Oh! by thy knighthood's honored sign,                          665
+  And for thy life preserved by mine,
+  When thou shalt see a darksome man,
+  Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan,
+  With tartans broad and shadowy plume
+  And hand of blood, and brow of gloom,                          670
+  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;                           675
+  Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims,
+  And now, with mingled grief and ire,
+  He saw the murdered maid expire.
+  "God, in my need, be my relief,
+  As I wreak this on yonder Chief!"                              680
+  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 swear                           685
+  No other favor 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,                          690
+  The stag at bay's a dangerous foe."
+  Barred from the known but guarded way,
+  Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray,
+  And oft must change his desperate track,
+  By stream and precipice turned back.                           695
+  Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,
+  From lack of food and loss of strength,
+  He couched him in a thicket hoar,
+  And thought his toils and perils o'er:
+  "Of all my rash adventures past,                               700
+  This frantic feat must prove the last!
+  Who e'er so mad but might have guessed,
+  That all this Highland hornet's nest
+  Would muster up in swarms so soon
+  As e'er they heard of bands at Doune?                          705
+  Like bloodhounds now they search me out--
+  Hark, to the whistle and the shout!--
+  If further through the wilds I go,
+  I only fall upon the foe.
+  I'll couch me here till evening gray,                          710
+  Then darkling try my dangerous way."
+
+
+XXIX
+
+  The shades of eve come slowly down,
+  The woods are wrapped in deeper brown,
+  The owl awakens from her dell,
+  The fox is heard upon the fell;                                715
+  Enough remains of glimmering light
+  To guide the wanderer's steps aright,
+  Yet not enough from far to show
+  His figure to the watchful foe.
+  With cautious step, and ear awake,                             720
+  He climbs the crag and threads the brake;
+  And not the summer solstice, there,
+  Tempered the midnight mountain air,
+  But every breeze, that swept the wold,
+  Benumbed his drenchéd limbs with cold.                         725
+  In dread, in danger, and alone,
+  Famished and chilled, through ways unknown,
+  Tangled and steep, he journeyed on;
+  Till, as a rock's huge point he turned,
+  A watch-fire close before him burned.                          730
+
+
+XXX
+
+  Beside its embers red and clear,
+  Basked, 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?"                        735
+  "Rest and a guide, and food and fire.
+  My life's beset, my path is lost,
+  The gale has chilled my limbs with frost."
+  "Art thou a friend to Roderick?" "No."
+  "Thou darest not call thyself a foe?"                          740
+  "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,                         745
+  Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend,
+  Who ever recked, where, how, or when,
+  The prowling fox was trapped or slain?
+  Thus treacherous scouts--yet sure they lie,
+  Who say thou camest a secret spy!"                             750
+  "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,                                755
+  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."                          760
+
+
+XXXI
+
+  He gave him of his Highland cheer,
+  The hardened flesh of mountain deer;
+  Dry fuel on the fire he laid,
+  And bade the Saxon share his plaid.
+  He tended him like welcome guest,                              765
+  Then thus his further speech addressed:
+  "Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu
+  A clansman born, a kinsman true;
+  Each word against his honor spoke,
+  Demands of me avenging stroke;                                 770
+  Yet more--upon thy fate, 'tis said,
+  A mighty augury is laid.
+  It rests with me to wind my horn--
+  Thou art with numbers overborne;
+  It rests with me, here, brand to brand,                        775
+  Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand;
+  But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause,
+  Will I depart from honor's laws;
+  To assail a wearied man were shame,
+  And stranger is a holy name;                                   780
+  Guidance and rest, 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,                  785
+  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!"                                790
+  "Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry
+  Sings us the lake's wild lullaby."
+  With that he shook the gathered heath,
+  And spread his plaid upon the wreath;
+  And the brave foemen, side by side,                            795
+  Lay peaceful down like brothers tried,
+  And slept until the dawning beam
+  Purpled the mountain and the stream.
+
+
+
+
+CANTO FIFTH
+
+THE COMBAT
+
+
+I
+
+  Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light,
+    When first, by the bewildered 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;                    5
+    Fair as that beam, although the fairest far,
+  Giving to horror grace, to danger pride,
+    Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star,
+  Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War.
+
+
+II
+
+  That early beam, so fair and sheen,                             10
+  Was twinkling through the hazel screen,
+  When rousing at its glimmer red,
+  The warriors left their lowly bed,
+  Looked out upon the dappled sky,
+  Muttered their soldier matins by,                               15
+  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,                              20
+  By thicket green and mountain gray.
+  A wildering path--they winded now
+  Along the precipice's brow,
+  Commanding the rich scenes beneath,
+  The windings of the Forth and Teith,                            25
+  And all the vales between that lie,
+  Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky;
+  Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance
+  Gained not the length of horseman's lance.
+  'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain                           30
+  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!                                35
+
+
+III
+
+  At length they came where, stern and steep,
+  The hill sinks down upon the deep.
+  Here Vennachar in silver flows,
+  There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose;
+  Ever the hollow path twined on,                                 40
+  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,                           45
+  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.
+  But where the lake slept deep and still,                        50
+  Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill;
+  And oft both path and hill were torn,
+  Where wintry torrents down had borne,
+  And heaped upon the cumbered land
+  Its wreck of gravel, rocks and sand.                            55
+  So toilsome was the road to trace,
+  The guide, abating of his pace,
+  Led slowly through the pass's jaws,
+  And asked Fitz-James, by what strange cause
+  He sought these wilds, traversed by few,                        60
+  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.                             65
+  When here, but three days since, I came,
+  Bewildered in pursuit of game,
+  All seemed as peaceful and as still
+  As the mist slumbering on yon hill;
+  Thy dangerous Chief was then afar,                              70
+  Nor soon expected back from war.
+  Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide,
+  Though deep perchance the villian lied."
+  "Yet why a second venture try?"
+  "A warrior thou, and ask me why!                                75
+  Moves our free course by such fixed cause
+  As gives the poor mechanic laws?
+  Enough, I sought to drive away
+  The lazy hours of peaceful day;
+  Slight cause will then suffice to guide                         80
+  A Knight's free footsteps far and wide--
+  A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed,
+  The merry glance of mountain maid;
+  Or, if a path be dangerous known,
+  The danger's self is lure alone."                               85
+
+
+V
+
+  "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                              90
+  To guard King James's sports I heard;
+  Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear
+  This muster of the mountaineer,
+  Their pennons will abroad be flung,
+  Which else in Doune had peaceful hung."                         95
+  "Free be they flung!--for we were loath
+  Their silken folds should feast the moth.
+  Free be they flung!--as free shall wave
+  Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave.
+  But, Stranger, peaceful since you came,                        100
+  Bewildered in the mountain game,
+  Whence the bold boast by which you show
+  Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?"
+  "Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew
+  Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu,                         105
+  Save as an outlawed desperate man,
+  The chief of a rebellious clan,
+  Who, in the Regent's court and sight,
+  With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight;
+  Yet this alone might from his part                             110
+  Sever each true and loyal heart."
+
+
+VI
+
+  Wrathful at such arraignment foul,
+  Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl.
+  A space he paused, then sternly said,
+  "And heard'st thou why he drew his blade?                      115
+  Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow
+  Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe?
+  What recked the Chieftain if he stood
+  On Highland heath, or Holy-Rood?
+  He rights such wrong where it is given,                        120
+  If it were in the court of heaven."
+  "Still was it outrage--yet, 'tis true,
+  Not then claimed sovereignty his due;
+  While Albany, with feeble hand,
+  Held borrowed truncheon of command,                            125
+  The young King, mewed in Stirling tower,
+  Was stranger to respect and power.
+  But then, thy Chieftain's robber life!
+  Winning mean prey by causeless strife,
+  Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain                            130
+  His herds and harvest reared in vain--
+  Methinks a soul, like thine, should scorn
+  The spoils from such foul foray borne."
+
+
+VII
+
+  The Gael beheld him grim the while,
+  And answered with disdainful smile--                           135
+  "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,                         140
+  With gentle slopes and groves between;
+  These fertile plains, that softened vale,
+  Were once the birthright of the Gael;
+  The stranger came with iron hand,
+  And from our fathers reft the land.                            145
+  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,                          150
+  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.'                       155
+  Pent in this fortress of the North,
+  Think'st thou we will not sally forth,
+  To spoil the spoiler as we may,
+  And from the robber rend the prey?
+  Aye, by my soul! While on yon plain                            160
+  The Saxon rears one shock of grain;
+  While, of ten thousand herds, there strays
+  But one along yon river's maze,
+  The Gael, of plain and river heir,
+  Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share.                     165
+  Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold
+  That plundering Lowland field and fold
+  Is aught but retribution true?
+  Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu."
+
+
+VIII
+
+  Answered Fitz-James, "And if I sought,                         170
+  Think'st thou no other could be brought?
+  What deem ye of my path waylaid?
+  My life given o'er to ambuscade?"
+  "As of a meed to rashness due:
+  Hadst thou sent warning fair and true--                        175
+  I seek my hound, or falcon strayed,
+  I seek, good faith, a Highland maid--
+  Free hadst thou been to come and go;
+  But secret path marks secret foe.
+  Nor yet, for this, even as a spy,                              180
+  Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die.
+  Save to fulfill an augury."
+  "Well, let it pass; nor will I now
+  Fresh cause of enmity avow,
+  To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow.                          185
+  Enough, I am by promise tied
+  To match me with this man of pride:
+  Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen
+  In peace; but when I come again,
+  I come with banner, brand, and bow,                            190
+  As leader seeks his mortal foe.
+  For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower,
+  Ne'er panted for the appointed hour,
+  As I, until before me stand
+  This rebel Chieftain and his band!"                            195
+
+
+IX
+
+  "Have, then, thy wish!" He whistled shrill,
+  And he was answered from the hill;
+  Wild as the scream of the curlew,
+  From crag to crag the signal flew.
+  Instant, through copse and heath, arose                        200
+  Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
+  On right, on left, above, below,
+  Sprung up at once the lurking foe;
+  From shingles gray their lances start,
+  The bracken bush sends forth the dart,                         205
+  The rushes and the willow-wand
+  Are bristling into ax and brand,
+  And every tuft of broom gives life
+  To plaided warrior armed for strife.
+  That whistle garrisoned the glen                               210
+  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.                        215
+  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,                            220
+  Upon the mountain-side they hung.
+  The Mountaineer cast glance of pride
+  Along Benledi's living side,
+  Then fixed his eye and sable brow
+  Full on Fitz-James--"How say'st thou now?                      225
+  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 thrilled with sudden start,
+  He manned himself with dauntless air,                          230
+  Returned the Chief his haughty stare,
+  His back against a rock he bore,
+  And firmly placed his foot before:
+  "Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
+  From its firm base as soon as I."                              235
+  Sir Roderick marked--and in his eyes
+  Respect was mingled with surprise,
+  And the stern joy which warriors feel
+  In foemen worthy of their steel.
+  Short space he stood--then waved his hand;                     240
+  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;                                 245
+  It seemed as if their mother Earth
+  Had swallowed up her warlike birth.
+  The wind's last breath had tossed in air,
+  Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair;
+  The next but swept a lone hill-side,                           250
+  Where heath and fern were waving wide.
+  The sun's last glance was glinted back,
+  From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,
+  The next, all unreflected, shone
+  On bracken green, and cold gray stone.                         255
+
+
+XI
+
+  Fitz-James looked round--yet scarce believed
+  The witness that his sight received;
+  Such apparition well might seem
+  Delusion of a dreadful dream.
+  Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,                              260
+  And to his look the Chief replied,
+  "Fear naught--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;                                    265
+  Nor would I call a clansman's brand
+  For aid against one valiant hand,
+  Though on our strife lay every vale
+  Rent by the Saxon from the Gael.
+  So move we on--I only meant                                    270
+  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;                             275
+  Yet dare not say, that now his blood
+  Kept on its wont and tempered flood,
+  As, following Roderick's stride, he drew
+  That seeming lonesome pathway through,
+  Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife                          280
+  With lances, that, to take his life,
+  Waited but signal from a guide,
+  So late dishonored and defied.
+  Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round
+  The vanished guardians of the ground,                          285
+  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                           290
+  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.                                   295
+
+
+XII
+
+  The Chief in silence strode before,
+  And reached that torrent's sounding shore,
+  Which, daughter of three mighty lakes,
+  From Vennachar in silver breaks,
+  Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines                  300
+  On Bochastle the moldering lines,
+  Where Rome, the Empress of the world,
+  Of yore her eagle wings unfurled.
+  And here his course the Chieftain stayed,
+  Threw down his target and his plaid,                           305
+  And to the Lowland warrior said--
+  "Bold Saxon! to his promise just,
+  Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust.
+  This murderous Chief, this ruthless man,
+  This head of a rebellious clan,                                310
+  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,                            315
+  Armed, 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 delayed,
+  When foeman bade me draw my blade;                             320
+  Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death;
+  Yet sure thy fair and generous faith,
+  And my deep debt for life preserved,
+  A better meed have well deserved.
+  Can naught but blood our feud atone?                           325
+  Are there no means?" "No, Stranger, none!
+  And hear--to fire thy flagging zeal--
+  The Saxon cause rests on thy steel;
+  For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred
+  Between the living and the dead;                               330
+  'Who spills the foremost foeman's life,
+  His party conquers in the strife.'"
+  "Then, by my word," the Saxon said,
+  "The riddle is already read.
+  Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff--                          335
+  There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.
+  Thus Fate hath 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,                           340
+  Or if the King shall not agree
+  To grant thee grace and favor free,
+  I plight mine honor, oath, and word,
+  That, to thy native strengths restored,
+  With each advantage shalt thou stand,                          345
+  That aids thee now to guard thy land."
+
+
+XIV
+
+  Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye--
+  "Soars thy presumption, then, so high,
+  Because a wretched kern ye slew,
+  Homage to name to Roderick Dhu?                                350
+  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 valor light                           355
+  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!                         360
+  It nerves my heart, it steels my sword;
+  For I have sworn this braid to stain
+  In the best blood that warms thy vein.
+  Now, truce, farewell! and ruth, begone!--
+  Yet think not that by thee alone,                              365
+  Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown;
+  Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn,
+  Start at my whistle clansmen stern,
+  Of this small horn one feeble blast
+  Would fearful odds against thee cast.                          370
+  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 looked to sun, and stream, and plain,                     375
+  As what they ne'er might see again;
+  Then foot, and point, and eye opposed,
+  In dubious strife they darkly closed.
+
+
+XV
+
+  Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu,
+  That on the field his targe he threw,                          380
+  Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide
+  Had death so often dashed aside;
+  For, trained abroad his arms to wield,
+  Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield.
+  He practiced every pass and ward,                              385
+  To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard;
+  While less expert, though stronger far,
+  The Gael maintained unequal war.
+  Three times in closing strife they stood,
+  And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood;                        390
+  No stinted draft, no scanty tide,
+  The gushing flood the tartans dyed.
+  Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain,
+  And showered his blows like wintry rain;
+  And, as firm rock, or castle-roof,                             395
+  Against the winter shower is proof,
+  The foe, invulnerable still,
+  Foiled his wild rage by steady skill;
+  Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand
+  Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand,                        400
+  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!                               405
+  Let recreant yield, who fears to die."
+  --Like adder darting from his coil,
+  Like wolf that dashes through the toil,
+  Like mountain-cat who guards her young,
+  Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung;                         410
+  Received, but recked not of a wound,
+  And locked 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,                     415
+  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 compressed
+  His knee was planted in his breast;                            420
+  His clotted locks he backward threw,
+  Across his brow his hand he drew,
+  From blood and mist to clear his sight,
+  Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright!
+  But hate and fury ill supplied                                 425
+  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 gleamed on high,
+  Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye.                   430
+  Down came the blow! but in the heath
+  The erring blade found bloodless sheath.
+  The struggling foe may now unclasp
+  The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp;
+  Unwounded from the dreadful close,                             435
+  But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.
+
+
+XVII
+
+  He faltered thanks to Heaven for life,
+  Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife;
+  Next on his foe his look he cast,
+  Whose every gasp appeared his last;                            440
+  In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid--
+  "Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid;
+  Yet with thy foe must die, or live,
+  The praise that faith and valor give."
+  With that he blew a bugle-note,                                445
+  Undid the collar from his throat,
+  Unbonneted, and by the wave
+  Sat down his brow and hands to lave.
+  Then faint afar are heard the feet
+  Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet;                             450
+  The sounds increase, and now are seen
+  Four mounted squires in Lincoln green;
+  Two who bear lance, and two who lead,
+  By loosened rein, a saddled steed;
+  Each onward held his headlong course,                          455
+  And by Fitz-James reined up his horse--
+  With wonder viewed the bloody spot--
+  "Exclaim not, gallants! question not.
+  You, Herbert and Luffness, alight,
+  And bind the wounds of yonder knight;                          460
+  Let the gray palfrey bear his weight,
+  We destined for a fairer freight,
+  And bring him on to Stirling straight;
+  I will before at better speed,
+  To seek fresh horse and fitting weed.                          465
+  The sun rides high--I must be boune,
+  To see the archer-game at noon;
+  But lightly Bayard clears the lea--
+  De Vaux and Herries, follow me.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  "Stand, Bayard, stand!" The steed obeyed,                      470
+  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 stayed,
+  No grasp upon the saddle laid,                                 475
+  But wreathed his left hand in the mane,
+  And lightly bounded from the plain,
+  Turned on the horse his arméd heel,
+  And stirred his courage with the steel.
+  Bounded the fiery steed in air;                                480
+  The rider sat erect and fair;
+  Then like a bolt from steel crossbow
+  Forth launched, along the plain they go.
+  They dashed that rapid torrent through,
+  And up Carhonie's hill they flew;                              485
+  Still at the gallop pricked the Knight,
+  His merrymen followed as they might.
+  Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride,
+  And in the race they mock thy tide;
+  Torry and Lendrick now are past,                               490
+  And Deanstown lies behind them cast;
+  They rise, the bannered towers of Doune,
+  They sink in distant woodland soon;
+  Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire,
+  They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre;                     495
+  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,                         500
+  With plash, with scramble, and with bound.
+  Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth!
+  And soon the bulwark of the North,
+  Gray Stirling, with her towers and town,
+  Upon their fleet career looked down.                           505
+
+
+XIX
+
+  As up the flinty path they strained
+  Sudden his steed the leader reined;
+  A signal to his squire he flung,
+  Who instant to his stirrup sprung:
+  "Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray,                       510
+  Who townward 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?"                   515
+  "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?                                  520
+  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!                         525
+  The uncle of the banished Earl.
+  Away, away, to court, to show
+  The near approach of dreaded foe;
+  The King must stand upon his guard;
+  Douglas and he must meet prepared."                            530
+  Then righthand wheeled their steeds, and straight
+  They won the castle's postern gate.
+
+
+XX
+
+  The Douglas, who had bent his way
+  From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey gray,
+  Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf,                            535
+  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.                              540
+  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 pardoned one repining tear!                                 545
+  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;                               550
+  And thou, O sad and fatal mound!
+  That oft hast heard the death-ax sound,
+  As on the noblest of the land
+  Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand--
+  The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb                          555
+  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 maskers meet!                            560
+  Banner and pageant, pipe and drum,
+  And merry morris dancers come.
+  I guess, by all this quaint array,
+  The burghers hold their sports today.
+  James will be there; he loves such show,                       565
+  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'll follow to the Castle-park,                                570
+  And play my prize--King James shall mark
+  If age has tamed these sinews stark,
+  Whose force so oft, in happier days,
+  His boyish wonder loved to praise."
+
+
+XXI
+
+  The Castle gates were open flung,                              575
+  The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung,
+  And echoed loud the flinty street
+  Beneath the coursers' clattering feet,
+  As slowly down the steep descent
+  Fair Scotland's King and nobles went,                          580
+  While all along the crowded way
+  Was jubilee and loud huzza.
+  And ever James was bending low,
+  To his white jennet's saddle-bow,
+  Doffing his cap to city dame,                                  585
+  Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame.
+  And well the simperer might be vain--
+  He chose the fairest of the train.
+  Gravely he greets each city sire,
+  Commends each pageant's quaint attire.                         590
+  Gives to the dancers thanks aloud,
+  And smiles and nods upon the crowd,
+  Who rend the heavens with their acclaims,
+  "Long live the Commons' King, King James!"
+  Behind the King thronged peer and knight,                      595
+  And noble dame and damsel bright,
+  Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay
+  Of the steep street and crowded way.
+  But in the train you might discern
+  Dark lowering brow and visage stern;                           600
+  There nobles mourned their pride restrained,
+  And the mean burgher's joys disdained;
+  And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan,
+  Were each from home a banished man,
+  There thought upon their own gray tower,                       605
+  Their waving woods, their feudal power,
+  And deemed themselves a shameful part
+  Of pageant which they cursed in heart.
+
+
+XXII
+
+  Now, in the Castle-park, drew out
+  Their checkered bands the joyous rout.                         610
+  Their morricers, with bell at heel,
+  And blade in hand, their mazes wheel;
+  And chief, beside the butts, there stand
+  Bold Robin Hood and all his band--
+  Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl,                         615
+  Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl,
+  Maid Marion, fair as ivory bone,
+  Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John;
+  Their bugles challenge all that will,
+  In archery to prove their skill.                               620
+  The Douglas bent a bow of might--
+  His first shaft centered in the white,
+  And when in turn he shot again,
+  His second split the first in twain.
+  From the King's hand must Douglas take                         625
+  A silver dart, the archer's stake;
+  Fondly he watched, with watery eye,
+  Some answering glance of sympathy--
+  No kind emotion made reply!
+  Indifferent as to archer wight,                                630
+  The monarch gave the arrow bright.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  Now, clear the ring! for, hand to hand,
+  The manly wrestlers take their stand.
+  Two o'er the rest superior rose,
+  And proud demanded mightier foes,                              635
+  Nor called 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                         640
+  To Douglas gave a golden ring,
+  While coldly glanced his eye of blue,
+  As frozen drop of wintry dew.
+  Douglas would speak, but in his breast
+  His struggling soul his words suppressed;                      645
+  Indignant then he turned him where
+  Their arms the brawny yeomen bare.
+  To hurl the massive bar in air.
+  When each his utmost strength had shown,
+  The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone                           650
+  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 gray-haired sires, who know the past,                      655
+  To strangers point the Douglas-cast,
+  And moralize on the decay
+  Of Scottish strength in modern day.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  The vale with loud applauses rang,
+  The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang.                          660
+  The King, with look unmoved, bestowed
+  A purse well-filled with pieces broad.
+  Indignant smiled the Douglas proud,
+  And threw the gold among the crowd,
+  Who now, with anxious wonder, scan,                            665
+  And sharper glance, the dark gray man;
+  Till whispers rose among the throng,
+  That heart so free, and hand so strong,
+  Must to the Douglas blood belong.
+  The old men marked and shook the head,                         670
+  To see his hair with silver spread,
+  And winked aside, and told each son,
+  Of feats upon the English done,
+  Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand
+  Was exiled from his native land.                               675
+  The women praised his stately form,
+  Though wrecked by many a winter's storm;
+  The youth with awe and wonder saw
+  His strength surpassing Nature's law.
+  Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd,                      680
+  Till murmur rose to clamors loud.
+  But not a glance from that proud ring
+  Of peers who circled round the King,
+  With Douglas held communion kind,
+  Or called the banished man to mind;                            685
+  No, not from those who, at the chase,
+  Once held his side the honored place,
+  Begirt his board, and, in the field,
+  Found safety underneath his shield;
+  For he, whom royal eyes disown,                                690
+  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 favorite greyhounds should pull down,                      695
+  That venison free, and Bordeaux wine,
+  Might serve the archery to dine.
+  But Lufra--whom from Douglas' side
+  Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide,
+  The fleetest hound in all the North--                          700
+  Brave Lufra saw and darted forth.
+  She left the royal hounds mid-way,
+  And dashing on the antlered prey,
+  Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank,
+  And deep the flowing life-blood drank.                         705
+  The King's stout huntsman saw the sport
+  By strange intruder broken short,
+  Came up, and with his leash unbound,
+  In anger struck the noble hound.
+  The Douglas had endured, that morn,                            710
+  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,                          715
+  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,                            720
+  In darkened brow and flashing eye;
+  As waves before the bark divide,
+  The crowd gave way before his stride;
+  Needs but a buffet and no more,
+  The groom lies senseless in his gore.                          725
+  Such blow no other hand could deal,
+  Though gauntleted in glove of steel.
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  Then clamored loud the royal train,
+  And brandished swords and staves amain,
+  But stern the Baron's warning--"Back!                          730
+  Back, on your lives, ye menial pack!
+  Beware the Douglas.--Yes! behold,
+  King James! the Douglas, doomed of old,
+  And vainly sought for near and far,
+  A victim to atone the war,                                     735
+  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 misproud ambitious clan,                               740
+  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?                              745
+  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 frowned,                  750
+  "And bid our horsemen clear the ground."
+
+
+XXVII
+
+  Then uproar wild and misarray
+  Marred the fair form of festal day.
+  The horsemen pricked among the crowd,
+  Repelled by threats and insult loud;                           755
+  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                             760
+  The royal spears in circle deep,
+  And slowly scale the pathway steep;
+  While on the rear in thunder pour
+  The rabble with disordered roar.
+  With grief the noble Douglas saw                               765
+  The Commons rise against the law,
+  And to the leading soldier said--
+  "Sir John of Hyndford! 'twas my blade,
+  That knighthood on thy shoulder laid;
+  For that good deed, permit me then                             770
+  A word with these misguided men.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+  "Hear, gentle friends! ere yet for me,
+  Ye break the bands of fealty.
+  My life, my honor, and my cause,
+  I tender free to Scotland's laws.                              775
+  Are these so weak as must require
+  The aid of your misguided ire?
+  Or, if I suffer causeless wrong,
+  Is then my selfish rage so strong,
+  My sense of public weal so low,                                780
+  That, for mean vengeance on a foe,
+  Those cords of love I should unbind,
+  Which knit my country and my kind?
+  O no! Believe, in yonder tower
+  It will not soothe my captive hour,                            785
+  To know those spears our foes should dread,
+  For me in kindred gore are red;
+  To know, in fruitless brawl begun,
+  For me, that mother wails her son;
+  For me, that widow's mate expires;                             790
+  For me, that orphans weep their sires;
+  That patriots mourn insulted laws,
+  And curse the Douglas for the cause.
+  O let your patience ward such ill,
+  And keep your right to love me still!"                         795
+
+
+XXIX
+
+  The crowd's wild fury sunk again
+  In tears, as tempests melt in rain.
+  With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed
+  For blessings on his generous head,
+  Who for his country felt alone,                                800
+  And prized her blood beyond his own.
+  Old men, upon the verge of life,
+  Blessed him who stayed the civil strife;
+  And mothers held their babes on high,
+  The self-devoted Chief to spy,                                 805
+  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,                          810
+  The Douglas up the hill he led,
+  And at the Castle's battled verge,
+  With sighs resigned his honored charge.
+
+
+XXX
+
+  The offended Monarch rode apart,
+  With bitter thought and swelling heart,                        815
+  And would not now vouchsafe again
+  Through Stirling streets to lead his train.
+  "O Lennox, who would wish to rule
+  This changeling crowd, this common fool?
+  Hear'st thou," he said, "the loud acclaim,                     820
+  With which they shout the Douglas name?
+  With like acclaim, the vulgar throat
+  Strained for King James their morning note;
+  With like acclaim they hailed the day
+  When first I broke the Douglas' sway;                          825
+  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,                              830
+  And fickle as a changeful dream;
+  Fantastic as a woman's mood,
+  And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood.
+  Thou many-headed monster-thing,
+  O who could wish to be thy king!                               835
+
+
+XXXI
+
+  "But soft! what messenger of speed
+  Spurs hitherward his panting steed?
+  I guess his cognizance afar--
+  What from our cousin, John of Mar?"--
+  "He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound                    840
+  Within the safe and guarded ground;
+  For some foul purpose yet unknown--
+  Most sure for evil to the throne--
+  The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu,
+  Has summoned his rebellious crew;                              845
+  'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid
+  These loose banditti stand arrayed.
+  The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune,
+  To break their muster marched, and soon
+  Your Grace will hear of battle fought;                         850
+  But earnestly the Earl besought,
+  Till for such danger he provide,
+  With scanty train you will not ride."
+
+
+XXXII
+
+  "Thou warn'st me I have done amiss--
+  I should have earlier looked to this;                          855
+  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,                               860
+  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 kingdom's laws.                               865
+  The tidings of their leaders lost
+  Will soon dissolve the mountain host,
+  Nor would we that the vulgar feel
+  For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel.
+  Bear Mar our message, Braco; fly!"                             870
+  He turned his steed--"My liege, I hie,
+  Yet, ere I cross this lily lawn,
+  I fear the broadswords will be drawn."
+  The turf the flying courser spurned,
+  And to his towers the King returned.                           875
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+  Ill with King James's mood that day,
+  Suited gay feast and minstrel lay;
+  Soon were dismissed the courtly throng,
+  And soon cut short the festal song.
+  Nor less upon the saddened town                                880
+  The evening sunk in sorrow down.
+  The burghers spoke of civil jar,
+  Of rumored feuds and mountain war,
+  Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu,
+  All up in arms--The Douglas too,                               885
+  They mourned him pent within the hold,
+  "Where stout Earl William was of old."
+  And there his word the speaker stayed,
+  And finger on his lip he laid,
+  Or pointed to his dagger blade.                                890
+  But jaded horsemen, from the west,
+  At evening to the Castle pressed;
+  And busy talkers said they bore
+  Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore;
+  At noon the deadly fray begun,                                 895
+  And lasted till the set of sun.
+  Thus giddy rumor shook the town,
+  Till closed the Night her pennons brown.
+
+
+
+
+CANTO SIXTH
+
+THE GUARD-ROOM
+
+
+I
+
+  The sun, awakening, through the smoky air
+    Of the dark city casts a sullen glance,
+  Rousing each caitiff to his task of care,
+    Of sinful man the sad inheritance;
+  Summoning revelers from the lagging dance,                       5
+    Scaring the prowling robber to his den;
+  Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance,
+    And warning student pale to leave his pen,
+  And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men.
+
+  What various scenes, and, Oh! what scenes of woe,               10
+    Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam!
+  The fevered patient, from his pallet low,
+    Through crowded hospital beholds its stream;
+  The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam;
+    The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail;                 15
+  The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream;
+    The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale,
+  Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail.
+
+
+II
+
+  At dawn the towers of Stirling rang
+  With soldier-step and weapon-clang,                             20
+  While drums, with rolling note, foretell
+  Relief to weary sentinel.
+  Through narrow loop and casement barred,
+  The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard,
+  And, struggling with the smoky air,                             25
+  Deadened the torches' yellow glare.
+  In comfortless alliance shone
+  The lights through arch of blackened stone,
+  And showed wild shapes in garb of war,
+  Faces deformed with beard and scar,                             30
+  All haggard from the midnight watch,
+  And fevered with the stern debauch;
+  For the oak table's massive board,
+  Flooded with wine, with fragments stored,
+  And beakers drained, and cups o'erthrown,                       35
+  Showed in what sport the night had flown.
+  Some, weary, snored on floor and bench;
+  Some labored still their thirst to quench;
+  Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands
+  O'er the huge chimney's dying brands,                           40
+  While round them, or beside them flung,
+  At every step their harness rung.
+
+
+III
+
+  These drew not for their fields the sword,
+  Like tenants of a feudal lord,
+  Nor owned the patriarchal claim                                 45
+  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;                         50
+  The mountain-loving Switzer there
+  More freely breathed in mountain-air;
+  The Fleming there despised the soil,
+  That paid so ill the laborer's toil;
+  Their rolls showed French and German name;                      55
+  And merry England's exiles came,
+  To share, with ill-concealed disdain,
+  Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain.
+  All brave in arms, well trained to wield
+  The heavy halberd, brand, and shield;                           60
+  In camps licentious, wild and bold;
+  In pillage fierce and uncontrolled;
+  And now, by holytide and feast,
+  From rules of discipline released.
+
+
+IV
+
+  They held debate of bloody fray,                                65
+  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,                              70
+  Whose mangled limbs, and bodies gored,
+  Bore token of the mountain sword,
+  Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard,
+  Their prayers and feverish wails were heard;
+  Sad burden to the ruffian joke,                                 75
+  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,                                  80
+  In host a hardy mutineer,
+  But still the boldest of the crew,
+  When deed of danger was to do.
+  He grieved, that day, their games cut short,
+  And marred the dicer's brawling sport,                          85
+  And shouted loud, "Renew the bowl!
+  And, while in 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                   90
+  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!                      95
+
+  Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip
+  The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip,
+  Says, that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly,
+  And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye;
+  Yet whoop, Jack! kiss Gillian the quicker,                     100
+  Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar!
+
+  Our vicar thus preaches--and why should he not?
+  For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot;
+  And 'tis right of his office poor laymen to lurch,
+  Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church.            105
+  Yet whoop, bully-boys! off with your liquor,
+  Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the Vicar!
+
+
+VI
+
+  The warder's challenge, heard without,
+  Stayed in mid-roar the merry shout.
+  A soldier to the portal went--                                 110
+  "Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent;
+  And--beat for jubilee the drum!
+  A maid and minstrel with him come."
+  Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred,
+  Was entering now the Court of Guard,                           115
+  A harper 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,                        120
+  From noon till eve we fought with foe,
+  As wild and as untamable
+  As the rude mountains where they dwell;
+  On both sides store of blood is lost,
+  Nor much success can either boast."                            125
+  "But whence thy captives, friend? Such spoil
+  As theirs must needs reward thy toil.
+  Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp;
+  Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp!
+  Get thee an ape, and trudge the land,                          130
+  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,                              135
+  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,                      140
+  Ever to strife and jangling bent;
+  "Shall he strike doe beside our lodge,
+  And yet the jealous niggard grudge
+  To pay the forester his fee?
+  I'll have my share, howe'er it be,                             145
+  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;                               150
+  But Ellen boldly stepped between,
+  And dropped at once the tartan screen.
+  So, from his morning cloud, appears
+  The sun of May, through summer tears.
+  The savage soldiery, amazed,                                   155
+  As on descended angel gazed;
+  Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed,
+  Stood half admiring, half ashamed.
+
+
+VIII
+
+  Boldly she spoke--"Soldiers, attend!
+  My father was the soldier's friend;                            160
+  Cheered him in camps, in marches led,
+  And with him in the battle bled.
+  Not from the valiant, or the strong,
+  Should exile's daughter suffer wrong."
+  Answered De Brent, most forward still                          165
+  In every feat of good or ill:
+  "I shame me of the part I played;
+  And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid!
+  An outlaw I by forest laws,
+  And merry Needwood knows the cause.                            170
+  Poor Rose--if Rose be living now"--
+  He wiped his iron eye and brow--
+  "Must bear such age, I think, as thou.
+  Hear ye, my mates; I go to call
+  The Captain of our watch to hall.                              175
+  There lies my halberd on the floor;
+  And he that steps my halberd o'er,
+  To do the maid injurious part,
+  My shaft shall quiver in his heart!
+  Beware loose speech, or jesting rough;                         180
+  Ye all know John de Brent. Enough."
+
+
+IX
+
+  Their Captain came, a gallant young--
+  Of Tullibardine's house he sprung--
+  Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight;
+  Gay was his mien, his humor light,                             185
+  And, though by courtesy controlled,
+  Forward his speech, his bearing bold.
+  The high-born maiden ill could brook
+  The scanning of his curious look
+  And dauntless eye; and yet, in sooth,                          190
+  Young Lewis was a generous youth;
+  But Ellen's lovely face and mien,
+  Ill suited to the garb and scene,
+  Might lightly bear construction strange,
+  And give loose fancy scope to range.                           195
+  "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,                          200
+  Or may the venture suit a squire?"
+  Her dark eye flashed--she paused and sighed--
+  "O what have I to do with pride!
+  Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife,
+  A suppliant for a father's life,                               205
+  I crave an audience of the King.
+  Behold, to back my suit, a ring,
+  The royal pledge of grateful claims,
+  Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James."
+
+
+X
+
+  The signet ring young Lewis took,                              210
+  With deep respect and altered look;
+  And said--"This ring our duties own;
+  And pardon, if to worth unknown,
+  In semblance mean obscurely veiled,
+  Lady, in aught my folly failed.                                215
+  Soon as the day flings wide his gates,
+  The King shall know what suitor waits.
+  Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower
+  Repose you till his waking hour;
+  Female attendance shall obey                                   220
+  Your hest, for service or array.
+  Permit I marshal you the way."
+  But, ere she followed, with the grace
+  And open bounty of her race,
+  She bade her slender purse be shared                           225
+  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 proffered gold:                        230
+  "Forgive a haughty English heart,
+  And O forget its ruder part!
+  The vacant purse shall be my share,
+  Which in my barret-cap I'll bear.
+  Perchance, in jeopardy of war,                                 235
+  Where gayer crests may keep afar."
+  With thanks--'twas all she could--the maid
+  His rugged courtesy repaid.
+
+
+XI
+
+  When Ellen forth with Lewis went,
+  Allan made suit to John of Brent:                              240
+  "My lady safe, O let your grace
+  Give me to see my master's face!
+  His minstrel I--to share his doom
+  Bound from the cradle to the tomb.
+  Tenth in descent, since first my sires                         245
+  Waked for his noble house their lyres,
+  Nor one of all the race was known
+  But prized its weal above their own.
+  With the Chief's birth begins our care;
+  Our harp must soothe the infant heir,                          250
+  Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace
+  His earliest feat of field or chase;
+  In peace, in war, our ranks we keep,
+  We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep,
+  Nor leave him till we pour our verse--                         255
+  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;                             260
+  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,                            265
+  More than to guide the laboring steer,
+  I had not dwelt an outcast here.
+  Come, good old Minstrel, follow me;
+  Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see."
+
+
+XII
+
+  Then, from a rusted iron hook,                                 270
+  A bunch of ponderous keys he took,
+  Lighted a torch, and Allan led
+  Through grated arch and passage dread.
+  Portals they passed, where, deep within,
+  Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters' din;                       275
+  Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored,
+  Lay wheel, and ax, and headsman's sword,
+  And many an hideous engine grim,
+  For wrenching joint, and crushing limb,
+  By artist formed, who deemed it shame                          280
+  And sin to give their work a name.
+  They halted at a low-browed porch,
+  And Brent to Allan gave the torch,
+  While bolt and chain he backward rolled
+  And made the bar unhasp its hold.                              285
+  They entered--'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                                 290
+  Decked the sad walls and oaken floor;
+  Such as the rugged days of old
+  Deemed fit for captive noble's hold.
+  "Here," said De Brent, "thou mayst remain
+  Till the Leech visit him again.                                295
+  Strict is his charge, the warders tell,
+  To tend the noble prisoner well."
+  Retiring then the bolt he drew,
+  And the lock's murmurings growled anew.
+  Roused at the sound, from lowly bed                            300
+  A captive feebly raised his head;
+  The wondering Minstrel looked, and knew--
+  Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu!
+  For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought,
+  They, erring, deemed the Chief he sought.                      305
+
+
+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!                            310
+  And oft his fevered 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--                           315
+  Oh! 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?                             320
+  Have they been ruined in my fall?
+  Ah, yes! or wherefore art thou here!
+  Yet speak--speak boldly--do not fear."
+  For Allan, who his mood well knew,
+  Was choked with grief and terror too.                          325
+  "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!"                      330
+  "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.                             335
+  Thy stately Pine is yet unbent,
+  Though many a goodly bough is rent."
+
+
+XIV
+
+  The Chieftain reared his form on high,
+  And fever's fire was in his eye;
+  But ghastly pale, and livid streaks                            340
+  Checkered 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 harper play, or warrior hear!...                         345
+  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,                             350
+  When met my clan the Saxon might.
+  I'll listen, till my fancy hears
+  The clang of swords, the crash of spears!
+  These grates, these walls, shall vanish then,
+  For the fair field of fighting men,                            355
+  And my free spirit burst away,
+  As if it soared from battle fray."
+  The trembling Bard with awe obeyed--
+  Slow on the harp his hand he laid;
+  But soon remembrance of the sight                              360
+  He witnessed from the mountain's height,
+  With what old Bertram told at night,
+  Awakened the full power of song,
+  And bore him in career along;
+  As shallop launched on river's side,                           365
+  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,                                 370
+  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,                            375
+      Nor ripple on the lake,
+    Upon her eyry nods the erne,
+      The deer has sought the brake;
+    The small birds will not sing aloud,
+      The springing trout lies still,                            380
+    So darkly glooms yon thunder cloud,
+    That swathes, as with a purple shroud,
+      Benledi's distant hill.
+    Is it the thunder's solemn sound
+      That mutters deep and dread,                               385
+    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                          390
+      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!                            395
+  To hero boune for battle-strife,
+    Or bard of martial lay,
+  'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life,
+    One glance at their array!
+
+
+XVI
+
+  "Their light-armed archers far and near                        400
+    Surveyed the tangled ground,
+  Their center ranks, with pike and spear,
+    A twilight forest frowned,
+  Their barded horsemen, in the rear,
+    The stern battalia crowned.                                  405
+  No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang,
+    Still were the pipe and drum;
+  Save heavy tread, and armor's clang,
+    The sullen march was dumb.
+  There breathed no wind their crests to shake,                  410
+    Or wave their flags abroad;
+  Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake,
+    That shadowed o'er their road.
+  Their vaward scouts no tidings bring,
+    Can rouse no lurking foe,                                    415
+  Nor spy a trace of living thing,
+    Save when they stirred the roe;
+    The host moves, like a deep-sea wave,
+    Where rise no rocks its pride to brave,
+      High-swelling, dark, and slow.                             420
+  The lake is passed, and now they gain
+  A narrow and a broken plain,
+  Before the Trossachs' rugged jaws;
+  And here the horse and spearmen pause,
+  While, to explore the dangerous glen,                          425
+  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 pealed the banner-cry of hell!                             430
+  Forth from the pass in tumult driven,
+  Like chaff before the wind of heaven,
+    The archery appear;
+  For life! for life! their flight they ply--
+  And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry,                         435
+  And plaids and bonnets waving high,
+  And broadswords flashing to the sky,
+    Are maddening in the rear.
+  Onward they drive, in dreadful race,
+    Pursuers and pursued;                                        440
+  Before that tide of flight and chase,
+  How shall it keep its rooted place,
+    The spearmen's twilight wood?
+  'Down, down,' cried Mar, 'your lances down!
+    Bear back both friend and foe!'                              445
+  Like reeds before the tempest's frown,
+  That serried grove of lances brown
+    At once lay leveled low;
+  And closely shouldering side to side,
+  The bristling ranks the onset bide.                            450
+  'We'll quell the savage mountaineer,
+    As their Tinchel cows the game!
+  They come as fleet as forest deer,
+    We'll drive them back as tame.'
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  "Bearing before them, in their course,                         455
+  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,                          460
+      Each targe was dark below;
+    And with the ocean's mighty swing,
+    When heaving to the tempest's wing,
+      They hurled them on the foe.
+  I heard the lance's shivering crash,                           465
+  As when the whirlwind rends the ash;
+  I heard the broadsword's deadly clang,
+  As if an hundred anvils rang!
+  But Moray wheeled his rearward rank
+  Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank,                            470
+      'My banner-man advance!
+    I see,' he cried, 'their column shake.
+    Now, gallants! for your ladies' sake,
+      Upon them with the lance!'
+    The horsemen dashed among the rout,                          475
+      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!                            480
+    One blast upon his bugle-horn
+      Were worth a thousand men.
+    And refluent through the pass of fear
+      The battle's tide was poured;
+    Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear,                       485
+      Vanished the mountain-sword.
+    As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep,
+      Receives her roaring linn,
+    As the dark caverns of the deep
+      Suck the wild whirlpool in,                                490
+  So did the deep and darksome pass
+  Devour the battle's mingled mass;
+  None linger now upon the plain,
+  Save those who ne'er shall fight again.
+
+
+XIX
+
+  "Now westward rolls the battle's din,                          495
+  That deep and doubling pass within.--
+  Minstrel, away! the work of fate
+  Is bearing on; its issue wait,
+  Where the rude Trossachs' dread defile
+  Opens on Katrine's lake and isle.--                            500
+  Gray Benvenue I soon repassed,
+  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                                    505
+      To the deep lake has given;
+  Strange gusts of wind from mountain-glen
+  Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again.
+  I heeded not the eddying surge,
+  Mine eye but saw the Trossachs' gorge,                         510
+  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                              515
+  The dirge of many a passing soul.
+  Nearer it comes--the dim-wood glen
+  The martial flood disgorged again,
+    But not in mingled tide;
+  The plaided warriors of the North                              520
+  High on the mountain thunder forth
+    And overhang its side;
+  While by the lake below appears
+  The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears.
+  At weary bay each shattered band,                              525
+  Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand;
+  Their banners stream like tattered sail,
+  That flings its fragments to the gale,
+  And broken arms and disarray
+  Marked the fell havoc of the day.                              530
+
+
+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,                        535
+  But women weak, that wring the hand;
+  'Tis there of yore the robber band
+      Their booty wont to pile.
+  My purse, with bonnet-pieces store,
+  To him will swim a bow-shot o'er,                              540
+  And loose a shallop from the shore.
+  Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then,
+  Lords of his mate, and brood, and den.'
+  Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung,
+  On earth his casque and corselet rung,                         545
+      He plunged him in the wave;
+  All saw the deed--the purpose knew,
+  And to their clamors Benvenue
+      A mingled echo gave;
+  The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer,                         550
+  The helpless females scream for fear,
+  And yells for rage the mountaineer.
+  'Twas then, as by the outcry riven,
+  Poured down at once the lowering heaven;
+  A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast,                       555
+  Her billows reared their snowy crest.
+  Well for the swimmer swelled they high,
+  To mar the Highland marksman's eye;
+  For round him showered, 'mid rain and hail,
+  The vengeful arrows of the Gael.                               560
+  In vain--he nears the isle--and lo!
+  His hand is on a shallop's bow.
+  Just then a flash of lightning came,
+  It tinged the waves and strand with flame;
+  I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame,                            565
+  Behind an oak I saw her stand,
+  A naked dirk gleamed in her hand;
+  It darkened--but, amid the moan
+  Of waves, I heard a dying groan;
+  Another flash!--the spearman floats                            570
+  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.                             575
+  Despite the elemental rage,
+  Again they hurried to engage;
+  But, ere they closed in desperate fight,
+  Bloody with spurring came a knight,
+  Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag,                       580
+  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
+  An herald's voice forbade the war,                             585
+  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                             590
+  How Roderick brooked 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;                           595
+  At length, no more his deafened ear
+  The minstrel melody can hear;
+  His face grows sharp--his hands are clenched,
+  As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched;
+  Set are his teeth, his fading eye                              600
+  Is sternly fixed on vacancy;
+  Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew
+  His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu!
+  Old Allan-bane looked on aghast,
+  While grim and still his spirit passed;                        605
+  But when he saw that life was fled,
+  He poured his wailing o'er the dead.
+
+
+XXII
+
+LAMENT
+
+  "And art thou cold and lowly laid,
+  Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid,
+  Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade!                      610
+  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                             615
+  I'll wail for Alpine's honored 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,                        620
+  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 honored Pine!                               625
+
+  "Sad was thy lot on mortal stage!
+  The captive thrush may brook the cage,
+  The prisoned eagle dies for rage.
+  Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain!
+  And, when its notes awake again,                               630
+  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 honored Pine."
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  Ellen, the while, with bursting heart,                         635
+  Remained in lordly bower apart,
+  Where played, with many colored gleams,
+  Through storied pane the rising beams.
+  In vain on gilded roof they fall,
+  And lightened up a tapestried wall,                            640
+  And for her use a menial train
+  A rich collation spread in vain.
+  The banquet proud, the chamber gay,
+  Scarce drew one curious glance astray;
+  Or if she looked, 'twas but to say,                            645
+  With better omen dawned 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,                             650
+  While Lufra, crouching by her side,
+  Her station claimed with jealous pride,
+  And Douglas, bent on woodland game,
+  Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme,
+  Whose answer, oft at random made,                              655
+  The wandering of his thoughts betrayed.
+  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.                          660
+  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.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN
+
+  "My hawk is tired of perch and hood,                           665
+  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,                              670
+  With bended bow and bloodhound free,
+  For that's the life is meet for me.
+
+  "I hate to learn the ebb of time,
+  From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime,
+  Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl,                              675
+  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.                                 680
+
+  "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,                            685
+  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 heartsick lay was hardly said,
+  The list'ner had not turned her head,                          690
+  It trickled still, the starting tear,
+  When light a footstep struck her ear,
+  And Snowdoun's graceful knight was near.
+  She turned the hastier, lest again
+  The prisoner should renew his strain.                          695
+  "O welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said;
+  "How may an almost orphan maid
+  Pay the deep debt"--"O say not so!
+  To me no gratitude you owe.
+  Not mine, alas! the boon to give,                              700
+  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.                                 705
+  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,                              710
+  And gently whispered hope and cheer;
+  Her faltering steps, half led, half stayed,
+  Through gallery fair, and high arcade,
+  Till, at his touch, its wings of pride
+  A portal arch unfolded wide.                                   715
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  Within 'twas brilliant all and light,
+  A thronging scene of figures bright;
+  It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight,
+  As when the setting sun has given
+  Ten thousand hues to summer even,                              720
+  And from their tissue, fancy frames
+  Aërial knights and fairy dames.
+  Still by Fitz-James her footing stayed;
+  A few faint steps she forward made,
+  Then slow her drooping head she raised,                        725
+  And fearful round the presence gazed;
+  For him she sought, who owned this state,
+  The dreaded Prince whose will was fate!--
+  She gazed on many a princely port,
+  Might well have ruled a royal court;                           730
+  On many a splendid garb she gazed--
+  Then turned bewildered and amazed,
+  For all stood bare; and, in the room,
+  Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume.
+  To him each lady's look was lent;                              735
+  On him each courtier's eye was bent;
+  Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen,
+  He stood, in simple Lincoln green,
+  The center of the glittering ring--
+  And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King.                      740
+
+
+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--                           745
+  She showed the ring--she clasped her hands.
+  Oh! not a moment could he brook,
+  The generous Prince, that suppliant look!
+  Gently he raised her--and, the while,
+  Checked with a glance the circle's smile;                      750
+  Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed,
+  And bade her terrors be dismissed:
+  "Yes, Fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James
+  The fealty of Scotland claims.
+  To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring;                            755
+  He will redeem his signet-ring.
+  Ask naught for Douglas; yester even
+  His prince and he have much forgiven.
+  Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue,
+  I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong.                              760
+  We would not, to the vulgar crowd,
+  Yield what they craved with clamor loud;
+  Calmly we heard and judged his cause,
+  Our council aided, and our laws.
+  I stanched thy father's death-feud stern,                      765
+  With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn;
+  And Bothwell's lord henceforth we own
+  The friend and bulwark of our throne.
+  But, lovely infidel, how now?
+  What clouds thy misbelieving brow?                             770
+  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 Monarch drank, that happy hour,                            775
+  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;                          780
+  He stepped 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                           785
+  In life's more low but happier way,
+  'Tis under name which veils my power,
+  Nor falsely veils--for Stirling's tower
+  Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims,
+  And Normans call me James Fitz-James.                          790
+  Thus watch I o'er insulted laws,
+  Thus learn to right the injured cause."
+  Then, in a tone apart and low--
+  "Ah, little traitress! none must know
+  What idle dream, what lighter thought,                         795
+  What vanity full dearly bought,
+  Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew
+  My spell-bound steps to Benvenue,
+  In dangerous hour, and all but gave
+  Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive!"--                      800
+  Aloud he spoke, "Thou still dost hold
+  That little talisman of gold,
+  Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring--
+  What seeks fair Ellen of the King?"
+
+
+XXIX
+
+  Full well the conscious maiden guessed                         805
+  He probed the weakness of her breast;
+  But, with that consciousness, there came
+  A lightening of her fears for Graeme,
+  And more she deemed the Monarch's ire
+  Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire                         810
+  Rebellious 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.                           815
+  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?                              820
+  No other captive friend to save?"
+  Blushing, she turned her from the King,
+  And to the Douglas gave the ring,
+  As if she wished her sire to speak
+  The suit that stained her glowing cheek.                       825
+  "Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force,
+  And stubborn justice holds her course.
+  Malcolm, come forth!"--and, at the word,
+  Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's lord.
+  "For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues,                      830
+  From thee may Vengeance claim her dues,
+  Who, nurtured underneath our smile,
+  Hast paid our care by treacherous wile,
+  And sought, amid thy faithful clan,
+  A refuge for an outlawed man,                                  835
+  Dishonoring thus thy loyal name.
+  Fetters and warder for the Graeme!"
+  His chain of gold the King unstrung,
+  The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung,
+  Then gently drew the glittering band,                          840
+  And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand.
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+  Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark,
+    On purple peaks a deeper shade descending;
+  In twilight copse the glowworm lights her spark,
+    The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending.              845
+  Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending,
+    And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy;
+  Thy slumbers sweet with Nature's vespers blending,
+    With distant echo from the fold and lea,
+  And herdboy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee.            850
+
+  Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel harp!
+    Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway,
+  And little reck I of the censure sharp
+    May idly cavil at an idle lay.
+  Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way,               855
+    Through secret woes the world has never known,
+  When on the weary night dawned wearier day,
+    And bitterer was the grief devoured alone.
+  That I o'erlived such woes, Enchantress! is thine own.
+
+  Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire,                   860
+    Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string!
+  'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire,
+    'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing.
+  Receding now, the dying numbers ring
+    Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell,                    865
+  And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring
+    A wandering witch-note of the distant spell--
+  And now, 'tis silent all!--Enchantress, fare thee well!
+
+
+
+
+NOTES
+
+
+CANTO FIRST
+
+2. =witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring.= The well or spring of
+St. Fillan is on the summit of a hill near Loch Earn, some miles
+northeast of the scene of the poem. The reason why Scott places the
+"Harp of the North" here is that St. Fillan was the favorite saint of
+Robert Bruce, and a relic of the saint had been borne in a shrine by a
+warlike abbot at the battle of Bannockburn. The word "witch" (more
+properly spelled "wych") is connected with "wicker" and means "bending,"
+"drooping."
+
+10. =Caledon.= Caledonia, poetic name for Scotland.
+
+29. =Monan's rill.= Scott takes the liberty of assigning a "rill" to
+this Scottish martyr of the fourth century on his own authority, unless
+his editors have been at fault in failing to discover the stream
+indicated.
+
+31. =Glenartney's.= Glen Artney or Valley of the Artney. The Artney is a
+small river northeast of the main scene of the poem.
+
+33. =Benvoirlich.= "Ben" is Scottish for mountain. Benvoirlich is near
+the western end of Glenartney.
+
+53. =Uam-Var.= A mountain between Glenartney and the Braes of Doune. The
+name signifies "great den," and is derived from a rocky enclosure on the
+mountain-side, believed to have been used in primitive times as a toil
+or trap for deer. As told in Stanza IV a giant was fabled to have
+inhabited this den.
+
+71. =linn.= This word means either "waterfall" or "steep ravine." The
+latter is probably the meaning here.
+
+89. =Menteith.= A village and district southeast of the line of
+lakes--Loch Katrine, Loch Achray, and Loch Vennachar--about which the
+main action of the poem moves.
+
+93. =Lochard.= Loch Ard, a small lake south of Loch Katrine.
+=Aberfoyle.= A village east of Loch Ard.
+
+95. =Loch-Achray.= See note on 89.
+
+97. =Benvenue.= A mountain on the south bank of Loch Katrine.
+
+103. =Cambusmore.= An estate owned by Scott's friends, the Buchanans, on
+the border of the Braes of Doune.
+
+105. =Benledi.= A majestic mountain shutting in the horizon to the north
+of Loch Vennachar.
+
+106. =Bochastle's heath.= The plain between Loch Vennachar and the river
+Teith.
+
+112. =Brigg of Turk.= A romantic bridge, still in existence, between
+Loch Vennachar and Loch Achray.
+
+120. =dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed.= A breed of dogs, usually
+black in color, very keen of scent and powerful in build, were kept by
+the abbots of St. Hubert in commemoration of their patron saint, who was
+a hunter.
+
+138. =whinyard.= Obsolete term for _sword_.
+
+145. =Trossachs.= A wild and beautiful defile between Loch Katrine and
+Loch Achray. The word signifies "rough or bristled country."
+
+166. =Woe worth the chase.= "Woe worth" is an exclamation, equivalent to
+"alack!"
+
+178. =Round and around the sounds were cast.= Notice the mimicry of the
+echo in the vowel sounds of the line.
+
+196. =tower ... on Shinar's plain.= The Tower of Babel.
+
+208. =dewdrops sheen.= What part of speech is _sheen_? Is this use of
+the word obsolete in prose?
+
+227. =frequent flung.= "Frequent" is used in the original Latin sense
+(Lat. _frequens_) of "crowded together," "numerous."
+
+256. =Unless he climb, with footing nice.= Scott says: "Until the
+present road was made through the romantic pass I have presumptuously
+attempted to describe, there was no mode of issuing out of the defile
+called the Trossachs, excepting by a sort of ladder, composed of the
+branches and roots of trees." What is the meaning of "nice" here? What
+other meanings has the word had?
+
+313. =Highland plunderers.= The clans inhabiting the region about Loch
+Katrine were in the habit of making incursions into the neighboring
+Lowlands to plunder and lay waste the country. Their warlike habits were
+fostered by the rugged and almost inaccessible character of the country,
+which prevented the Lowlanders from retaliating upon them, and enabled
+them also to resist the royal authority.
+
+363. =snood.= A ribbon worn by Scotch lassies and upon marriage replaced
+by the matron's "curch" or cap. =plaid.= A rectangular shawl-like
+garment made of the checkered cloth called tartan.
+
+438. =couch was pulled.= Freshly pulled heather was the most luxurious
+bedding known to the Highlander.
+
+440. =ptarmigan and heath-cock.= These birds are a species of grouse,
+the one red, the other black.
+
+460. =on the visioned future bent.= The gift of second-sight was
+universally believed in at this period in the Highlands.
+
+504. =retreat in dangerous hour.= "The Celtic chieftains, whose lives
+were continually exposed to peril, had usually, in the most retired spot
+of their domain, some place of retreat for the hour of necessity ... a
+tower, a cavern, or a rustic hut." (Scott's note in edition of 1830.)
+
+546. =target.= What is the connection of this word with that used in
+archery and gun-practice?
+
+566. =brook to wield.= "Brook" commonly means "endure." What is its
+exact meaning here?
+
+573. =Ferragus, or Ascabart.= Two giants whose names appear frequently
+in medieval romances of chivalry. The first is better known as Ferran,
+under which name he figures in the _Orlando Furioso_ of Ariosto.
+Ascabart plays a part in the old English metrical romance of Sir Bevis
+of Hampton.
+
+580. =To whom, though more than kindred knew.= This is a very obscure
+expression for Scott, who is usually so careful to make himself clear.
+The meaning seems to be: Ellen regarded her as a mother, though that was
+more than the actual kinship of the two justified (literally "knew how
+to recognize").
+
+591. =Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James.= As appears later in the
+poem, these were not his true name and title, though he was entitled to
+bear them.
+
+622. =a harp unseen.= In modern Scotland the bagpipe has altogether
+taken the place of the harp. A writer of the sixteenth century says:
+"They (the Highlanders) take great delight to deck their harps with
+silver and precious stones; the poor ones that cannot attain thereunto
+deck them with crystal. They sing verses prettily compounded (i.e.,
+composed) containing for the most part praises of valiant men."
+
+638. =pibroch.= (Pronounced pee-brock.) A wild tumultuous tune played on
+the bagpipes in the onset of battle.
+
+642. =bittern.= A wading bird, allied to the heron.
+
+657. =reveillé.= As the rhyme shows, this word is pronounced
+_reh-vail'yah_ here. The common pronunciation in the United States is
+_rev-a-lee'_. It is the drum-beat or bugle-call at dawn to arouse
+soldiers.
+
+
+CANTO SECOND
+
+1. =blackcock.= See note to I, 440.
+
+7. =minstrel grey.= Until well on in the eighteenth century it was
+customary for Highland chieftains to keep in their service a bard, whose
+chief duty it was to sing the exploits of the ancestors of the line.
+
+69. =Lead forth his fleet.= What kind of figure is contained in the word
+_fleet_ as applied to the flock of ducks?
+
+131. =harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed.= St. Modan was not a harper,
+as Scott elsewhere ingenuously confesses, adding, however, that "Saint
+Dunstan certainly did play upon that instrument."
+
+141. =Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall.= The minstrel tries
+to account for the strange way in which his harp gives back mournful
+sounds instead of the joyous ones he is trying to evoke, by calling to
+Ellen's mind two other occasions when it behaved similarly. One of these
+was when it foreboded the death of Ellen's mother; the other when it
+foreboded the exile of the Douglasses during the minority of James V.
+For particulars, see the introduction on the historical setting of the
+poem. Bothwell Castle is on the Clyde, a few miles from Glasgow.
+
+159. =From Tweed to Spey.= The Tweed is in the extreme southern part,
+the Spey in the northern part, of Scotland.
+
+200. =Lady of the Bleeding Heart.= The minstrel calls Ellen so because a
+bleeding heart was the heraldic emblem of the Douglas family.
+
+206. =strathspey.= A dance, named from the district of Strath Spey, in
+the north of Scotland. It resembled the reel, but was slower.
+
+213. =Clan-Alpine's pride.= Clan Alpine was the collective name of the
+followers of Roderick Dhu, who figures later in the poem as Ellen's
+rejected suitor and the enemy of the mysterious "Knight of Snowdoun" who
+has just taken his departure from the island.
+
+216. =Lennox foray.= Lennox is the district south of Menteith, in the
+Lowlands. It was the scene of innumerable forays and "cattle-drives."
+
+221. =In Holy-Rood a knight he slew.= Holyrood is the royal castle at
+Edinburgh, where the court usually was held. It was deemed a heinous and
+desperate offense to commit an act of blood in the royal residence or
+its immediate neighborhood, since such an act was an indirect violation
+of the majesty of the king, and a breaking of "the king's peace." It was
+for this offense that Roderick Dhu was exiled, and compelled to live
+like an outlaw in his mountain fastness.
+
+227. =Who else dared give.= Notice how skilfully Scott manages to give
+us the relations of the chief characters of the poem to each other, and
+to show that Ellen's father, pursued by the hatred of James V, has been
+given the island shelter in Loch Katrine by Roderick Dhu who is about to
+make his appearance in the story.
+
+236. =Full soon may dispensation sought.= A papal dispensation was
+necessary, because Ellen and Roderick Dhu were cousins. See next note.
+
+249. =All that a mother could bestow.= Here again the poet takes the
+indirect way of making clear his point, namely that the matron
+introduced in the first canto is the mother of Roderick Dhu. The phrase
+"an orphan in the wild," is in apposition with the following phrase "her
+sister's child"--i.e., Ellen herself. From this it appears that Lady
+Margaret is Ellen's aunt, and that Roderick Dhu is, therefore, Ellen's
+cousin.
+
+260. =Maronnan's cell.= A chapel at the eastern extremity of Loch
+Lomond, dedicated to the rather obscure saint here named.
+
+270. =Bracklinn's thundering wave.= The reference is to a cascade made
+by a mountain torrent at the Bridge of Bracklinn, near the village of
+Callender in Menteith. Notice how Scott's numerous references to places
+in the region where the poem is laid tend gradually to give us an idea
+of the richness and diversity of the landscape.
+
+274. =claymore.= A large two-handed sword.
+
+305. =Thy father's battle-brand.= Some swords, especially those which
+had been magically forged, were held to possess the property of drawing
+themselves from their scabbard at the approach of their owner's deadly
+enemy. This is the first vague hint which Scott gives us as to the real
+identity of the "Knight of Snowdoun." To throw a further glamor of
+romance about the prophetical weapon, he tells us that it was given by
+fairies to an ancestor of its present owner, namely, to Archibald, third
+Duke of Angus, called Tine-man (Loseman) because he always lost his men
+in battle, and that this gift was made while Archibald was in league
+with Harry Hotspur.
+
+319. =Beltane game.= The sports of May Day.
+
+327. =canna.= Cotton grass.
+
+Stanza XVI. In this and the two following stanzas notice how skillfully
+description and narrative are woven together, and how the picture gains
+in detail and distinctness as the boats approach.
+
+334. =barges.= What change has occurred in the use of this word?
+
+335. =Glengyle ... Brianchoil.= Why does the poet introduce these proper
+names? Are they of any value as information?
+
+343. =tartans.= See note to I, xix, 363.
+
+395. =The chorus first could Allan know.= The chorus was the first part
+of the song which the harper, listening from the shore, could distinctly
+make out.
+
+408. =Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu.= The words _vich_ and _dhu_ are Gaelic,
+the first meaning "descendant of," the second "black or swarthy." King
+Alpine was the half-mythical ancestor from whom the clan of Alpine
+sprung. The line means, therefore, "Black Roderick, descendant of
+Alpine." Compare II, xii, 220, where Allan-bane calls the chieftain
+"Black Sir Roderick."
+
+410. =Blooming at Beltane.= See note to II, 319.
+
+416. =Breadalbane.= A large district in the western part of the county
+of Perth.
+
+419-426. =Glen Fruin, Bannochar, Glenn Luss, Ross-dhu, Leven-glen.=
+What, in simple language, should you say was the value of this array of
+obscure names in the song?
+
+431. =the rose-bud that graces yon islands.= To whom do the singers
+metaphorically refer?
+
+497. =Percy's Norman pennon.= Captured by the Douglas in the raid which
+led to the battle of Otterburn, as celebrated in the old ballad of Chevy
+Chase. (Sprague.)
+
+504. =The waned crescent.= This may be taken as referring to some
+victory over the Turkish armies in the East, or to the defeat of
+Scott's ancestor, Sir Walter Scott of Buccleugh, who was defeated in an
+attempt to set the young king free from the Douglas. The shield of Sir
+Walter bore a crescent moon.
+
+506. =Blantyre.= A priory on the banks of the Clyde near Bothwell
+castle, of which ruins still remain.
+
+574. =Glenfinlas.= A valley to the northeast of Loch Katrine, between
+Ben-An and Ben-Ledi.
+
+577. =royal ward.= Malcolm, as a minor, was still under the king's
+guardianship.
+
+583. =Strath-Endrick glen.= A valley on the southeast of Loch Lomond,
+presumably Malcolm's home.
+
+623-625. =The Meggat=, the =Yarrow=, and the =Ettrick= are successive
+tributaries, the waters of which eventually reach the Tweed. The Teviot
+is also a tributary of the Tweed. All five rivers are in the southern
+part of Scotland.
+
+678. =Links of Forth.= Banks of the river Forth. In general the word
+"links" means flat or undulating stretches of sandy soil, partially
+covered with grass or heather.
+
+692. =There are who have.= How does this differ from the prose idiom?
+
+801. =pity 'twere such cheek should feel the midnight air.= Was there
+anything in the Highland character and training which would make these
+words seem particularly cutting? Notice how the insult is deepened later
+by the assumption on Rhoderick Dhu's part that Malcolm is capable of
+treachery toward Douglas and the Clan of Alpine.
+
+809. =henchman.= This word is said to have been originally "haunch-man"
+because it was the duty of this retainer to stand beside his master's
+chair (at his haunches as it were) at the feast, in readiness to do his
+bidding or to defend him if attacked.
+
+831. =Fiery Cross.= The signal for the gathering of the clan to war. The
+preparation and carrying abroad of this cross is described in the next
+canto.
+
+
+CANTO THIRD
+
+39. =cushat dove.= Better known as the ringdove.
+
+63. =shivers.= "Slivers" is the more common word, but the verb "to
+shiver," meaning to break in pieces, keeps the original meaning.
+
+74. =Benharrow.= This mountain is near the north end of Loch Lomond.
+
+87. =strath.= A wide open valley, distinguished from a glen, which is
+narrow.
+
+104. =fieldfare.= A species of thrush.
+
+116. =virgin snood.= See note to I, 363.
+
+154. =River Demon.= Concerning this creature Scott gives the current
+observation: "The River Demon, or River-horse, is an evil spirit,
+delighting to forebode and witness calamity. He frequents most Highland
+lakes and rivers; and one of his most memorable exploits was performed
+upon the banks of Loch Vennachar: it consisted in the destruction of a
+bridal party with all its attendants."
+
+156. =noontide hag.= A gigantic emaciated female figure which, contrary
+to the general rule of ghostly creatures, appeared in the full blaze of
+noon.
+
+168. =Ben-Shie's boding scream.= The ben-shie or banshee was a tutelar
+spirit, supposed to forebode by midnight howlings the death of a member
+of a family to which it was attached. The superstition is still
+prevalent in Ireland.
+
+191. =Inch-Cailliach.= An island in Loch Lomond, used as a place of
+burial for several neighboring clans, of whom the descendants of King
+Alpine were the chief. The name means "Isle of Nuns," or "Isle of Old
+Women."
+
+Stanza IX. Notice the change in the rime system which marks the break
+from flowing narrative to solemn dramatic speech, and is continued
+through the stanza to increase the effect of solemnity.
+
+253. =Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave.= This cave and the pass of
+Beala-nam-bo were on the slopes of Ben Venue, a mountain near Loch
+Katrine. See notes to 622 and 664.
+
+286. =Lanrick mead.= This meadow is still pointed out to the traveler on
+the road from Loch Vennachar to the Trossachs.
+
+300. =dun deer's hide.= It was their shoes made of untanned deer's hide,
+with the hair outwards, which gave the Highlander's their nickname,
+"Red-shanks."
+
+349. =Duncraggan.= A village between Loch Achray and Loch Vennachar.
+
+369. =coronach.= Death-song.
+
+386. =correi.= Scott explains this as "the hollow side of the hill,
+where game usually lies."
+
+387. =cumber.= Trouble, perplexity.
+
+394. =Stumah.= The name of a dog, signifying "faithful."
+
+461. =chapel of St. Bride.= This chapel stood on the knoll of
+Strath-Ire, mentioned at the beginning of the stanza, halfway up the
+pass of Leny. Scott is singularly careful not to take liberties with the
+geography of the localities where his story is laid.
+
+468. =pole-ax.= An old weapon consisting of a broad ax-head fastened to
+a long pole, with a prick at the back.
+
+480. =Tombea's Mary.= Tombea and Armandave are names of places in the
+vicinity of Strath-Ire.
+
+546. =bracken.= Fern.
+
+570. =Balquidder.= The braes of Balquidder extended west from Loch Voil,
+to the northward of the scene of the poem. =midnight blaze.= The heather
+on the moorlands is often set on fire by the shepherds in order that new
+herbage may spring up.
+
+578. =Loch Voil=, etc. This and the following names are of poetic value
+in suggesting tangibly the rapid passage of the runner from place to
+place.
+
+622. =Coir-nan-Uriskin.= Scott says that this name, signifying "Den of
+the Shaggy Men," was derived from the mythical inhabitants of the place,
+creatures half man and half goat, resembling the satyrs of classical
+mythology.
+
+641. =still=, stillness. Can you instance other cases of the use of
+adjective for noun?
+
+656. =satyrs.= See note to 622.
+
+664. =Beal-nam-bo.= The name signifies "Pass of cattle." It is described
+as a "most magnificent glade, overhung with aged birch-trees, a little
+higher up the mountains than the Coir-nan-Uriskin."
+
+672. =A single page, to bear his sword.= The sword bearer, like the
+henchman and the bard, was a regular officer attached to the person of a
+Highland Chief. He was called in Gaelic "Gilliemore," or sword-man.
+
+
+CANTO FOURTH
+
+19. =Braes of Doune.= Doune is a village on the Teith, a few miles
+northwest of Stirling. The word "brae" means slope or declivity; the
+braes of Doune stretch away east and north from the village.
+
+36. =boune.= An obsolete word meaning "prepared."
+
+63. =Taghairm.= The word means "Augury of the Hide."
+
+68. =When swept our merrymen Gallangad.= The reference is to one of the
+forays or "cattledrives" which the Highland chiefs were fond of making
+at the expense of their neighbors. The situation of Gallangad is now
+unknown, but it was presumably a portion of the Lennox district.
+
+73. =kerns.= The kern or cateran of the Highlands was a light-armed
+infantryman, as opposed to the heavy-armed "gallowglass."
+
+78. =scatheless.= Without fear of injury, because of the weariness of
+the animal after the march.
+
+82. =boss.= The word means knob or protuberance, especially that in the
+center of a shield. What the boss of a cliff can be it is a little
+difficult to understand.
+
+98. =watching while the deer is broke.= The cutting up of the deer and
+allotting of the various portions was technically known as the
+"breaking" of the deer. A certain gristly portion was given, by long
+custom, to the birds, and came to be known as "the raven's bone."
+
+140. =A spy has sought my land.= Roderick refers, as appears later, to
+the "Knight of Snowdoun" of Canto I.
+
+150. =glaive=, sword.
+
+153. =sable pale.= An heraldic term, applied to a black perpendicular
+stripe in a coat of arms.
+
+174. =stance=, station, foundation.
+
+231. =Cambus-kenneth's fane.= The ruins of Cambus-kenneth Abbey are
+still to be seen on the banks of the Forth near Stirling.
+
+262. =mavis and merle=, thrush and blackbird.
+
+283. =darkling was the battle tried.= Scott first wrote "blindfold" in
+place of "darkling."
+
+285. =pall.= A rich cloth, from which mantles of noblemen were made.
+=Vair.= A fur much used for the garments of nobility in medieval times.
+
+298. =wonn'd=, an obsolete equivalent of "dwelt."
+
+306. =fairies' fatal green.= The elves or gnomes wore green, and were
+angered when any mortal ventured to wear that color. For this or some
+other reason green was held an unlucky color in many parts of Scotland.
+
+308. =thou wert christened man.= Urgan, as appears later, was a mortal,
+who had fallen under the spell of the elves and lived their life, but
+who still retained some of the privileges and immunities which belonged,
+according to medieval belief, to all persons who had been baptized into
+the Christian church.
+
+371. =Dunfermline.= An Abbey sixteen miles northwest of Edinburgh.
+
+385. =my former guide.= This is Red Murdoch, of whom Roderick Dhu
+speaks, see 144 ff.
+
+531. The =Allan= and the =Devan= are two streams which descend from the
+hills of Perthshire into the lowland plain.
+
+555. =from Maudlin's charge.= Maudlin, as a proper name, is a corruption
+of Magdalen. The curious development of meaning which has taken place in
+the word should be looked out in the dictionary.
+
+559. =peasant pitched a bar.= "Pitching the bar" was a feat of strength
+like the modern "putting the shot." It was usually indulged in by the
+peasantry at fairs and on the village greens.
+
+564. =that savage groom.= The mad woman refers to Red Murdoch, the
+guide.
+
+594. =a stag of ten.= With ten branches on his antlers.
+
+
+CANTO FIFTH
+
+46. =shingles=, declivities or "slides" of small broken stone.
+
+124. =While Albany with feeble hand.= After the death of James IV at
+Flodden Field the regency was held first by the mother of the young
+king, and then by the Duke of Albany. The latter was forced by the
+Estates to leave Scotland in 1624, and soon after the regency fell
+practically, though, not constitutionally, into the hands of the king's
+step-father, Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus. See introduction on the
+historical setting of the poem.
+
+198. =curlew.= A shore-bird, with a long curved bill.
+
+253. =jack.= A coat of mail made of leather or heavy padded cloth.
+
+301. =On Bochastle the moldering lines, etc.= East of Lake Vennachar, in
+the moor of Bochastle, are some traces of the Roman occupation, in the
+form of mounds and intrenchments.
+
+409. =mountain-cat.= "Catamount" is the common name in America.
+
+461. =palfrey.= A saddle-horse as distinguished from a war-horse.
+
+465. =weed=, garment. The word is now restricted to the phrase "widow's
+weeds."
+
+490-497. =Torry=, =Lendrick=, =Deanstown=, =Doune=, =Blair-Drummond=,
+=Ochtertyre=, and =Kier=, are all on the Teith, between Bochastle and
+Sterling.
+
+525. =by Saint Serle.= The necessities of rime compel the poet to choose
+a very obscure saint from the calendar.
+
+532. =postern gate=, the small rear gate of a castle, generally used by
+the servants only.
+
+584. =jennet.= A small Spanish horse, originally a cross between native
+and Arabian stock.
+
+611. =morricers=, morrice dancers. The morrice or morris was an old
+dance, imported into England from Spain. Believed to be a corruption of
+"Moorish."
+
+613. =butts=, the targets for archery practice.
+
+614. =Bold Robin Hood and all his band.= It is of course not meant that
+the renowned outlaw himself and his followers were there, but
+masqueraders representing these traditional characters. All the names
+that follow occur in one or other of the legends and ballads which
+gathered about Robin Hood's name.
+
+622. =the white=, i.e., the white center of the target.
+
+660. =Ladies Rock.= A hillock between the Castle and Grayfriar's church,
+from which the court ladies viewed the games.
+
+872. =lily lawn.= A conventional phrase in old ballad poetry, without
+any very definite meaning.
+
+
+CANTO SIXTH
+
+42. =harness=, armor and other war gear.
+
+60. =halberd=, a weapon consisting of a battle-ax and pike at the end of
+a long staff. =brand=, a poetical word for sword.
+
+92. =black-jack=, a large drinking can of tarred or waxed leather.
+
+95. =Drink upsees out.= "Upsees" is a corruption of a Dutch Bacchanalian
+interjection.
+
+103. =cure.= Parish or charge. =placket.= Petticoat.
+
+104. =lurch=, swindle, leave in difficulty.
+
+306. =prore=, poetical form of "prow."
+
+377. =erne=, eagle.
+
+Stanza XVII. Notice how both rime and rhythm mirror the growing
+excitement of the conflict.
+
+452. =As their Tinchel cows the game.= The "Tinchel" was a circle of
+hunters, surrounding a herd of deer and gradually closing in on them.
+
+488. =linn=, the word here means waterfall.
+
+586. =Bothwell's lord=, Douglas. See note to II, xiii, 141.
+
+591. =How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy.= "Brooked" is not used in its
+strong sense of "endured," but in the weaker one of "received"; we
+should say colloquially "how he took it."
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX
+
+(Adapted, and enlarged, from the _Manual for the Study of English
+Classics_, by George L. Marsh)
+
+
+HELPS TO STUDY
+
+
+LIFE OF SCOTT
+
+What prominent traits of Scott's character can be traced to his
+ancestors (pp. 9, 10)?
+
+How did he regard the members of his clan, especially the chief (pp. 19,
+20)?
+
+What characteristic is represented in his refusal to learn Latin and
+Greek at school?
+
+What was his own method of obtaining an education? In what did he become
+proficient (p. 12)?
+
+How did he regard his legal studies? How did they benefit him in his
+later work?
+
+How was he first interested in ballad-writing?
+
+Tell of the composition, publication, and popularity of his first poems
+(pp. 20 ff.).
+
+In what business venture did he become involved, and what was the final
+outcome? What defect in his character is it charged that his business
+relations brought to light (pp. 24, 25)?
+
+Tell of the composition of his novels. Why were they published
+incognito?
+
+What can you say of his last years and his struggle to pay off the debts
+incurred by his connection with Ballantyne?
+
+
+SCOTT AND THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT
+
+What is meant by the "Romantic Movement"? What four men were chiefly
+instrumental in bringing about this revolution in English poetry (p.
+40)?
+
+What was the influence of Scott's poetry on the age in comparison with
+that of his chief contemporaries? Give the reasons (p. 41).
+
+What were the distinguishing qualities of the literature of the
+eighteenth century? Illustrate these by examples from Pope or any other
+poet that you choose from that period, and put them into contrast with
+the qualities of the romantic poets. Does Scott's style differ greatly
+from that of the poets of the preceding century?
+
+
+THE LADY OF THE LAKE--CONSTRUCTION
+
+Is there anything that has taken place before the opening of the poem
+that has to be understood for a thorough appreciation of the story (p.
+46)? How are the previous fortunes of the Douglas family related (pp.
+96-98)?
+
+What purpose in the plot does the Minstrel serve throughout?
+
+What do you think of the opening?
+
+Does the chase serve merely to furnish an opportunity for the
+description?
+
+Is the action rapid or slow? How is it often retarded?
+
+For what are the songs introduced?
+
+Note the transition from stanza X to XI (p. 66); from XVI to XVII (p.
+71); from XXIV to XXV (p. 144); and many others.
+
+How many cases of concealed identity are there in the poem? Does this
+turning of the plot on mistaken identity make it seem unreal? Show in
+each case where the identity is exposed and where hints have been given
+beforehand of the real identity.
+
+Is there any intimation of the identity of Ellen and her father in lines
+565-7, page 81; lines 728-39, page 87?
+
+What is the purpose of Fitz-James's dream (p. 86)?
+
+What is the first hint of Ellen's love story and the name of her lover
+(pp. 74, 92)?
+
+When is Roderick Dhu first mentioned (p. 96)? In what light?
+
+Where are the relations of Ellen with Roderick and with Malcolm further
+discussed (p. 98)?
+
+To whom is the reference in lines 732-34, page 116?
+
+What action does the struggle between Roderick and Malcolm motive?
+
+How does Canto Third advance the plot? What is its poetical value (p.
+56)?
+
+What purpose does Brian serve?
+
+Does the prophecy (p. 157) heighten the dramatic effect of the following
+scene (see p. 196)?
+
+For what are lines 138-47, page 157, a preparation (p. 168)?
+
+What is the purpose of the Ballad of Alice Brand (pp. 162 ff.)?
+
+What other results of Scott's early interest in ballad literature can
+you point out in _The Lady of the Lake_?
+
+Does the warning of James by the song of mad Blanche seem improbable?
+
+What is the purpose of the long speeches between James and Roderick in
+the dramatic scene following Roderick's calling of his men?
+
+Does the combat between James and Roderick (pp. 198, 199) seem a real
+fight?
+
+Why was Roderick preserved to die in the castle at Stirling?
+
+Are lines 519-30, page 203, an artistic preparation for the following
+scene?
+
+How do the games in the Castle park hasten the plot to its end?
+
+How is the fight between Clan-Alpine and the Earl of Mar described?
+
+How much of the action takes place outside the poem and is related?
+
+Note the use of the supernatural (p. 239). Does it seem impressive?
+
+Is the conclusion sustained and dramatic?
+
+
+DESCRIPTION
+
+Are the nature descriptions given for scenic effect, or do they serve as
+a background and setting for the story?
+
+Does Scott employ incidents of plot for the sake of dragging in
+descriptions?
+
+Which is the best in the poem: nature description, plot construction,
+character, description, or the portrayal of old life and customs?
+
+Is the descriptive language suggestive?
+
+Are the landscape scenes given minutely, or are they drawn broadly, with
+a free hand?
+
+Does Scott keep closely to the geography of the region of his tale (see
+map, p. 6, and note 461, p. 259)?
+
+Perry Pictures 912-17 (from Landseer's paintings of deer) and 1511 (Ben
+Lomond) may be used in illustration of _The Lady of the Lake_.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+Are the characters distinctly drawn--do they seem real people of flesh
+and blood?
+
+How is Ellen's character displayed?
+
+Do you feel any sympathy for Roderick Dhu? Does your impression of his
+character improve (pp. 96, 98, 99, 182, 188, 195, and 241)?
+
+Was Douglas an historical character?
+
+Is the character of James Fitz-James true to James V of Scotland?
+
+Is Allan-bane representative of the place in the ancient Scottish clan
+which the minstrel had?
+
+
+THEME SUBJECTS
+
+1. Scott's boyhood (with emphasis on the cultivation of characteristics
+displayed in his poems; pp. 10-12).
+
+2. Scott as a landed proprietor (pp. 27-33). This may well take the form
+of an imaginary visit to Abbotsford.
+
+3. Scott in business (pp. 23-25, 34-36). Compare his struggle against
+debt with Mark Twain's.
+
+4. The historical setting of _The Lady of the Lake_ (pp. 46-48).
+
+5. A visit to the scene of _The Lady of the Lake_.
+
+6. Summary of the action; as a whole, or by parts (cantos or other
+logical divisions).
+
+7. Character sketches of Fitz-James, Roderick Dhu, Ellen, Malcolm,
+Douglas.
+
+8. Highland customs reflected in the poem (pp. 129 ff., 253, 254, etc.).
+
+9. The use of the Minstrel in the poem.
+
+10. The interpolated lyrics--what purposes do they, respectively, serve?
+
+11. Descriptions of scenes resembling, in one way or another, attractive
+scenes depicted in _The Lady of the Lake_.
+
+12. Soldier life in Stirling Castle (pp. 219 ff.).
+
+13. Contrast feudal warfare (especially as shown on pp. 81, 182) with
+modern warfare.
+
+14. Show, by selected passages, Scott's veneration for the ideals of
+feudalism (pp. 81, 228, etc.).
+
+15. Rewrite the scene of the combat between Roderick and Fitz-James (pp.
+198-200) in the prose style of Scott as in the tournament scene in
+_Ivanhoe_.
+
+
+SELECTIONS FOR CLASS READING
+
+1. The chase (pp. 60-65).
+
+2. The Trossachs (pp. 66-68).
+
+3. Ellen (pp. 72-74).
+
+4. Ellen's song (pp. 83-85).
+
+5. Roderick's arrival (pp. 100-105).
+
+6. Roderick's proposal (pp. 113-118).
+
+7. The consecration of the bloody cross (pp. 128-132).
+
+8. The summoning of the clan (pp. 132-135).
+
+9. The Coronach (pp. 136, 137).
+
+10. Roderick overhears Ellen's song (pp. 148-149).
+
+11. The ballad of Alice Brand (pp. 162-167).
+
+12. Fitz-James and the mad woman (pp. 172-178).
+
+13. The hospitality of a Highlander (pp. 180-183).
+
+14. The hidden army (pp. 191-192).
+
+15. The combat (pp. 195-200).
+
+16. Douglas at the games (pp. 207-211).
+
+17. The speech of Douglas (pp. 212, 213).
+
+18. The Battle of Beal' an Duine (pp. 232-240).
+
+19. Fitz-James reveals himself to Ellen (pp. 244-249).
+
+
+CLASSES OF POETRY
+
+It is important for the student of poetry to know the principal classes
+into which poems are divided. The following brief explanations do not
+pretend to be exhaustive, but they should be of practical aid. It must
+be remembered that a long poem is sometimes not very definitely of any
+one class, but combines characteristics of different classes.
+
+_Narrative_ poetry, like narrative prose, aims primarily to tell a
+story.
+
+The _epic_ is the most pretentious kind of narrative poetry; it tells in
+serious verse of the great deeds of a popular hero. The _Iliad_, the
+_Aeneid_, _Beowulf_, _Paradise Lost_ are important epics. The _Idylls of
+the King_ is in the main an epic poem.
+
+The _metrical romance_ is a rather long story in verse, of a less
+exalted and heroic character than the true epic. Scott's _Lady of the
+Lake_ is a familiar example.
+
+The _verse tale_ is shorter and likely to be less dignified and serious
+than the metrical romance. The stories in Chaucer's _Canterbury Tales_,
+or Burns's _Tam O'Shanter_, may serve as examples.
+
+The _ballad_ is a narrative poem, usually rather short and in such form
+as to be sung. It is distinguished from a song by the fact that it tells
+a story. _Popular_ or _folk_ ballads are ancient and of unknown
+authorship--handed down by word of mouth and varied by the transmitters.
+_Artistic_ ballads are imitations, by known poets, of traditional
+ballads.
+
+_Descriptive_ and _reflective_ poems have characteristics sufficiently
+indicated by the adjectives in italics.
+
+The _pastoral_ is a particular kind of descriptive and narrative poem in
+which the scene is laid in the country.
+
+The _idyll_ is, according to the etymology of its name, a "little
+picture." Tennyson's _Idylls of the King_ are rather more epic than
+idyllic in the strict sense of the term. The terms _idyll_ and
+_pastoral_ are not definitely discriminated.
+
+_Lyric_ poetry is poetry expressing personal feeling or emotion and in
+tuneful form. _Songs_ are the simplest examples of lyric poetry; formal
+_odes_, such as Wordsworth's on "Immortality," the most elaborate. A
+lyric does not primarily tell a story, but it may imply one or refer to
+one.
+
+The _elegy_ is a reflective lyric prompted by the death of some one.
+Tennyson's _In Memoriam_ is a collection of elegiac lyrics.
+
+A _hymn_ is a religious lyric.
+
+_Dramatic_ poetry presents human life in speech and action.
+
+A _tragedy_ is a serious drama which presents its hero in a losing
+struggle ending in his death.
+
+A _comedy_ does not end in death, and is usually cheerful and humorous.
+
+The _dramatic monologue_ is a poem in which a dramatic situation is
+presented, or perhaps a story is told, by one speaker.
+
+_Satire_ in verse aims to correct abuses, to ridicule persons, etc.
+
+_Didactic_ poetry has the purpose of teaching.
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+The following errors have been corrected in this text:
+
+Page 41: added period after "Southey in 1774"
+
+Page 89: put blank line between lines 18 and 19 of Canto Second
+
+Page 98: moved line number 255 of Canto Second to correct position (in
+the original the line number was at line 254)
+
+Page 165: changed "by their monarch's si" to "... side"
+
+Page 196: changed "by" to "my" in "When foeman bade me draw my blade;"
+
+Page 212: changed "shreik" to "shriek" in "the women shriek;"
+
+Page 253: changed comma to period after "a harp unseen"
+
+Page 256: changed "364" to "363" in note on line 343 of Canto Second
+
+Page 258: changed "364" to "363" in note on line 116 of Canto Third
+
+Page 260: added period after "150" in note on line 150 of Canto Fourth
+
+Page 262: added period after "from the calendar"
+
+Page 262: changed "Robinhood" to "Robin Hood" in "Bold Robin Hood and
+all his band."
+
+Page 268: changed "p. 5" to "p. 6" in question "Does Scott keep ..."]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lady of the Lake, by Sir Walter Scott
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY OF THE LAKE ***
+
+***** This file should be named 28287-8.txt or 28287-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Lady of the Lake, by Sir Walter Scott.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lady of the Lake, by Sir Walter Scott
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Lady of the Lake
+
+Author: Sir Walter Scott
+
+Editor: William Vaughn Moody
+
+Release Date: March 9, 2009 [EBook #28287]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY OF THE LAKE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Brian Sogard, storm and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="tn">
+<h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3>
+
+<p>Obvious mistakes and punctuation errors have been corrected, but
+inconsistent spelling, punctuation and hyphenation has been retained.
+At the end of the text there is a <a href="#corrections">list</a> of the corrections that were
+made.</p>
+
+<p>The footnotes in the introduction have been moved to the end of the
+chapter, and have been renumbered for clarity.</p>
+
+<p>Note links for the poem have been added to this version.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="title">The Lake English Classics</p>
+
+<p class="title"><small><span class="italic">REVISED EDITION WITH HELPS TO STUDY</span></small></p>
+
+<h1>THE<br />
+LADY OF THE LAKE</h1>
+
+<p class="title"><small>BY</small><br />
+SIR WALTER SCOTT<br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="title"><small>EDITED FOR SCHOOL USE<br />
+BY</small><br />
+WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY<br />
+<small>SOMETIME ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH<br />
+THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO</small><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="title">SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY<br />
+CHICAGO ATLANTA NEW YORK<br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p class="title"><small><span class="smcap">Copyright 1899, 1919<br />
+By Scott, Foresman and Company<br />
+292.46</span></small><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"><a name="MAP" id="MAP"></a>
+<img src="images/illus-map.png" width="700" height="466" alt="Map of the area where the poem takes place"
+title="THE SCENE OF &quot;THE LADY OF THE LAKE&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">THE SCENE OF &quot;THE LADY OF THE LAKE&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table summary="table of contents" border="0" cellpadding="4"
+cellspacing="2" style="width: 60%;">
+
+<colgroup span="5">
+  <col style="width: 5%;"></col>
+  <col style="width: 5%;"></col>
+  <col style="width: 5%;"></col>
+  <col style="width: 75%;"></col>
+  <col style="width: 10%;"></col>
+</colgroup>
+
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+<td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td colspan="4" class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Map</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#MAP">6</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td colspan="5" class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td class="tdr">I.</td>
+<td colspan="2" class="tdl">Life of Scott</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#I_LIFE_OF_SCOTT">9</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td class="tdr">II.</td>
+<td colspan="2" class="tdl">Scott's Place in the Romantic Movement</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#II_SCOTTS_PLACE_IN_THE_ROMANTIC_MOVEMENT">39</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td class="tdr">III.</td>
+<td colspan="2" class="tdl">The Lady of the Lake</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+<td class="tdl">Historical Setting</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#HISTORICAL_SETTING">46</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+<td class="tdl">General Criticism and Analysis</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#GENERAL_CRITICISM_AND_ANALYSIS">48</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td colspan="4" class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Text</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_LADY_OF_THE_LAKE">59</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td colspan="4" class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Notes</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#NOTES">251</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td colspan="5" class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Appendix</span></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td colspan="3" class="tdl">Helps to Study</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#HELPS_TO_STUDY">265</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td colspan="3" class="tdl">Theme Subjects</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#THEME_SUBJECTS">269</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td colspan="3" class="tdl">Selections for Class Reading</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#SELECTIONS_FOR_CLASS_READING">270</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td></td>
+<td colspan="3" class="tdl">Classes of Poetry</td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#CLASSES_OF_POETRY">271</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
+<a name="I_LIFE_OF_SCOTT" id="I_LIFE_OF_SCOTT"></a>I. LIFE OF SCOTT</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<p>Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, August 15, 1771, of an ancient
+Scotch clan numbering in its time many a hard rider and good fighter,
+and more than one of these petty chieftains, half-shepherd and
+half-robber, who made good the winter inroads into their stock of beeves
+by spring forays and cattle drives across the English Border. Scott's
+great-grandfather was the famous "Beardie" of Harden, so called because
+after the exile of the Stuart sovereigns he swore never to cut his beard
+until they were reinstated; and several degrees farther back he could
+point to a still more famous figure, "Auld Wat of Harden," who with his
+fair dame, the "Flower of Yarrow," is mentioned in <span class="italic">The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel</span>. The first member of the clan to abandon country life and take
+up a sedentary profession, was Scott's father, who settled in Edinburgh
+as Writer to the Signet, a position corresponding in Scotland to that of
+attorney or solicitor in England. The character of this father, stern,
+scrupulous, Calvinistic, with a high sense of ceremonial dignity and a
+punctilious regard for the honorable conventions of life, united with
+the wilder ancestral strain to make Scott what he was. From "Auld Wat"
+and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> "Beardie" came his high spirit, his rugged manliness, his chivalric
+ideals; from the Writer to the Signet came that power of methodical
+labor which made him a giant among the literary workers of his day, and
+that delicate sense of responsibility which gave his private life its
+remarkable sweetness and beauty.</p>
+
+<p>At the age of eighteen months, Scott was seized with a teething fever
+which settled in his right leg and retarded its growth to such an extent
+that he was slightly lame for the rest of his life. Possibly this
+affliction was a blessing in disguise, since it is not improbable that
+Scott's love of active adventure would have led him into the army or the
+navy, if he had not been deterred by a bodily impediment; in which case
+English history might have been a gainer, but English literature would
+certainly have been immeasurably a loser. In spite of his lameness, the
+child grew strong enough to be sent on a long visit to his grandfather's
+farm at Sandyknowe; and here, lying among the sheep on the windy downs,
+playing about the romantic ruins of Smailholm Tower,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> scampering
+through the heather on a tiny Shetland pony, or listening to stories of
+the thrilling past told by the old women of the farm, he drank in
+sensations which strengthened both the hardiness and the romanticism of
+his nature. A story is told of his being found in the fields during a
+thunder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> storm, clapping his hands at each flash of lightning, and
+shouting "Bonny! Bonny!"&mdash;a bit of infantile intrepidity which makes
+more acceptable a story of another sort illustrative of his mental
+precocity. A lady entering his mother's room found him reading aloud a
+description of a shipwreck, accompanying the words with excited comments
+and gestures. "There's the mast gone," he cried, "crash it goes; they
+will all perish!" The lady entered into his agitation with tact, and on
+her departure, he told his mother that he liked their visitor, because
+"she was a virtuoso, like himself." To her amused inquiry as to what a
+virtuoso might be, he replied: "Don't ye know? why, 'tis one who wishes
+to and will know everything."</p>
+
+<p>As a boy at school in Edinburgh and in Kelso, and afterwards as a
+student at the University and apprentice in his father's law office,
+Scott took his own way to become a "virtuoso"; a rather queer way it
+must sometimes have seemed to his good preceptors. He refused
+point-blank to learn Greek, and cared little for Latin. His scholarship
+was so erratic that he glanced meteor-like from the head to the foot of
+his classes and back again, according as luck gave or withheld the
+question to which his highly selective memory had retained the answer.
+But outside of school hours he was intensely at work to "know
+everything," so far as "everything" came within the bounds of his
+special tastes. Before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> he was ten years old he had begun to collect
+chap-books and ballads. As he grew older he read omnivorously in romance
+and history; at school he learned French for the sole purpose of knowing
+at first hand the fascinating cycles of old French romance; a little
+later he mastered Italian in order to read Dante and Ariosto, and to his
+schoolmaster's indignation stoutly championed the claim of the latter
+poet to superiority over Homer; a little later he acquired Spanish and
+read <span class="italic">Don Quixote</span> in the original. With such efforts, however,
+considerable as they were for a boy who passionately loved a "bicker" in
+the streets and who was famed among his comrades for bravery in climbing
+the perilous "kittle nine stanes" on Castle Rock, he was not content.
+Nothing more conclusively shows the genuineness of Scott's romantic
+feeling than his willingness to undergo severe mental drudgery in
+pursuit of knowledge concerning the old storied days which had
+enthralled his imagination. It was no moonshine sentimentality which
+kept him hour after hour and day after day in the Advocate's Library,
+poring over musty manuscripts, deciphering heraldic devices, tracing
+genealogies, and unraveling obscure points of Scottish history. By the
+time he was twenty-one he had made himself, almost unconsciously, an
+expert paleographer and antiquarian, whose assistance was sought by
+professional workers in those branches of knowledge. Carlyle has charged
+against Scott that he poured out his vast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> floods of poetry and romance
+without preparation or forethought; that his production was always
+impromptu, and rooted in no sufficient past of acquisition. The charge
+cannot stand. From his earliest boyhood until his thirtieth year, when
+he began his brilliant career as poet and novelist, his life was one
+long preparation&mdash;very individual and erratic preparation, perhaps, but
+none the less earnest and fruitful.</p>
+
+<p>In 1792, Scott, then twenty-one years old, was admitted a member of the
+faculty of advocates of Edinburgh. During the five years which elapsed
+between this date and his marriage, his life was full to overflowing of
+fun and adventure, rich with genial companionship, and with experience
+of human nature in all its wild and tame varieties. Ostensibly he was a
+student of law, and he did, indeed, devote some serious attention to the
+mastery of his profession. But the dry formalities of legal life his
+keen humor would not allow him to take quite seriously. On the day when
+he was called to the bar, while waiting his turn among the other young
+advocates, he turned to his friend, William Clark, who had been called
+with him, and whispered, mimicking the Highland lasses who used to stand
+at the Cross of Edinburgh to be hired for the harvest: "We've stood here
+an hour by the Tron, hinny, and deil a ane has speered<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> our price."
+Though Scott never made a legal reputation, either<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> as pleader at the
+bar or as an authority upon legal history and principles, it cannot be
+doubted that his experience in the Edinburgh courts was of immense
+benefit to him. In the first place, his study of the Scotch statutes,
+statutes which had taken form very gradually under the pressure of
+changing national conditions, gave him an insight into the politics and
+society of the past not otherwise to have been obtained. Of still more
+value, perhaps, was the association with his young companions in the
+profession, and daily contact with the racy personalities which
+traditionally haunt all courts of law, and particularly Scotch courts of
+law: the first association kept him from the affectation and
+sentimentality which is the bane of the youthful romanticist; and the
+second enriched his memory with many an odd figure afterward to take its
+place, clothed in the colors of a great dramatic imagination, upon the
+stage of his stories.</p>
+
+<p>Added to these experiences, there were others equally calculated to
+enlarge his conception of human nature. Not the least among these he
+found in the brilliant literary and artistic society of Edinburgh, to
+which his mother's social position gave him entrance. Here, when only a
+lad, he met Robert Burns, then the pet and idol of the fashionable
+coteries of the capital. Here he heard Henry Mackenzie deliver a lecture
+on German literature which turned his attention to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> romantic poetry
+of Germany and led directly to his first attempts at ballad-writing. But
+much more vital than any or all of these influences, were those endless
+walking-tours which alone or in company with a boon companion he took
+over the neighboring country-side&mdash;care-free, roystering expeditions,
+which he afterwards immortalized as Dandie Dinmont's "Liddesdale raids"
+in <span class="italic">Guy Mannering</span>. Thirty miles across country as the crow flies, with
+no objective point and no errand, a village inn or a shepherd's hut at
+night, with a crone to sing them an old ballad over the fire, or a group
+of hardy dalesmen to welcome them with stories and carousal&mdash;these were
+blithe adventurous days such as could not fail to ripen Scott's already
+ardent nature, and store his memory with genial knowledge. The account
+of Dandie Dinmont given by Mr. Shortreed may be taken as a picture, only
+too true in some of its touches, of Scott in these youthful escapades:
+"Eh me, ... sic an endless fund of humor and drollery as he had then wi'
+him. Never ten yards but we were either laughing or roaring and singing.
+Wherever we stopped how brawlie he suited himsel' to everybody! He aye
+did as the lave did; never made himsel' the great man or took ony airs
+in the company. I've seen him in a' moods in these jaunts, grave and
+gay, daft and serious, sober and drunk&mdash;(this, however, even in our
+wildest rambles, was but rare)&mdash;but drunk or sober, he was aye the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
+gentleman. He looked excessively heavy and stupid when he was fou, but
+he was never out o' gude humor." After this, we are not surprised to
+hear that Scott's father told him disgustedly that he was better fitted
+to be a fiddling peddler, a "gangrel scrape-gut," than a respectable
+attorney. As a matter of fact, however, behind the mad pranks and the
+occasional excesses there was a very serious purpose in all this
+scouring of the country-side. Scott was picking up here and there, from
+the old men and women with whom he hobnobbed, antiquarian material of an
+invaluable kind, bits of local history, immemorial traditions and
+superstitions, and, above all, precious ballads which had been handed
+down for generations among the peasantry. These ballads, thus
+precariously transmitted, it was Scott's ambition to gather together and
+preserve, and he spared no pains or fatigue to come at any scrap of
+ballad literature of whose existence he had an inkling. Meanwhile, he
+was enriching heart and imagination for the work that was before him. So
+that here also, though in the hair-brained and heady way of youth, he
+was engaged in his task of preparation.</p>
+
+<p>Scott has told us that it was his reading of <span class="italic">Don Quixote</span> which
+determined him to be an author, but he was first actually excited to
+composition in another way. This was by hearing recited a ballad of the
+German poet Bürger, entitled <span class="italic">Lenore</span>, in which a skeleton lover carries
+off his bride to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> wedding in the land of death. Mr. Hutton remarks
+upon the curiousness of the fact that a piece of "raw supernaturalism"
+like this should have appealed so strongly to a mind as healthy and sane
+as Scott's. So it was, however. He could not rid himself of the
+fascination of the piece until he had translated it, and published it,
+together with another translation from the same author. One stanza at
+least of this first effort of Scott sounds a note characteristic of his
+poetry:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Splash! splash! along the sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flashing pebbles flee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Here we catch the trumpet-like clang and staccato tramp of verse which
+he was soon to use in a way to thrill his generation. This tiny pamphlet
+of verse, Scott's earliest publication, appeared in 1796. Soon after, he
+met Monk Lewis, then famous as a purveyor to English palates of the
+crude horrors which German romanticism had just ceased to revel in.
+Lewis was engaged in compiling a book of supernatural stories and poems
+under the title of <span class="italic">Tales of Wonder</span>, and asked Scott to contribute.
+Scott wrote for this book three long ballads&mdash;"Glenfinlas," "Cadyow
+Castle," and "The Gray Brother." Though tainted with the conventional
+diction of eighteenth century verse, these ballads are not unimpressive
+pieces of work; the second named, especially, shows a kind and degree of
+romantic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> imagination such as his later poetry rather substantiated than
+newly revealed.</p>
+
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<p>In the following year, 1797, Scott married a Miss Charpentier, daughter
+of a French refugee. She was not his first love, that place having been
+usurped by a Miss Stuart Belches, for whom Scott had felt perhaps the
+only deep passion of his life, and memory of whom was to come to the
+surface touchingly in his old age. Miss Charpentier, or Carpenter, as
+she was called, with her vivacity and quaint foreign speech "caught his
+heart on the rebound"; there can be no doubt that, in spite of a certain
+shallowness of character, she made him a good wife, and that his
+affection for her deepened steadily to the end. The young couple went to
+live at Lasswade, a village near Edinburgh, on the Esk. Scott, in whom
+the proprietary instinct was always very strong, took great pride in the
+pretty little cottage. He made a dining-table for it with his own hands,
+planted saplings in the yard, and drew together two willow-trees at the
+gate into a kind of arch, surmounted by a cross made of two sticks.
+"After I had constructed this," he says, "mamma (Mrs. Scott) and I both
+of us thought it so fine that we turned out to see it by moonlight, and
+walked backwards from it to the cottage door, in admiration of our
+magnificence and its picturesque effect." It would have been well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
+indeed for them both if their pleasures of proprietorship could always
+have remained so touchingly simple.</p>
+
+<p>Now that he was married, Scott was forced to look a little more sharply
+to his fortunes. He applied himself with more determination to the law.
+In 1799 he became deputy-sheriff of Selkirkshire, with a salary of three
+hundred pounds, which placed him at least beyond the reach of want. He
+began to look more and more to literature as a means of supplementing
+his income. His ballads in the <span class="italic">Tales of Wonder</span> had gained him some
+reputation; this he increased in 1802 by the publication, under the
+title <span class="italic">Border Minstrelsy</span>, of the ballads which he had for several years
+been collecting, collating, and richly annotating. Meanwhile he was
+looking about for a congenial subject upon which to try his hand in a
+larger way than he had as yet adventured. Such a subject came to him at
+last in a manner calculated to enlist all his enthusiasm in its
+treatment, for it was given him by the Countess of Dalkeith, wife of the
+heir-apparent to the dukedom of Buccleugh. The ducal house of Buccleugh
+stood at the head of the clan Scott, and toward its representative the
+poet always held himself in an attitude of feudal reverence. The Duke of
+Buccleugh was his "chief," entitled to demand from him both passive
+loyalty and active service; so, at least, Scott loved to interpret their
+relationship, making effective in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> his own case a feudal sentiment which
+had elsewhere somewhat lapsed. He especially loved to think of himself
+as the bard of his clan, a modern representative of those rude poets
+whom the Scottish chiefs once kept as a part of their household to chant
+the exploits of the clan. Nothing could have pleased his fancy more,
+therefore, than a request on the part of the lady of his chief to treat
+a subject of her assigning&mdash;namely, the dark mischief-making of a dwarf
+or goblin who had strayed from his unearthly master and attached himself
+as page to a human household. The subject fell in with the poet's
+reigning taste for strong supernaturalism. Gilpin Horner, the goblin
+page, though he proved in the sequel a difficult character to put to
+poetic use, was a figure grotesque and eerie enough to appeal even to
+Monk Lewis. At first Scott thought of treating the subject in
+ballad-form, but the scope of treatment was gradually enlarged by
+several circumstances. To begin with, he chanced upon a copy of Goethe's
+<span class="italic">Götz von Berlichingen</span>, and the history of that robber baron suggested
+to him the feasibility of throwing the same vivid light upon the old
+Border life of his ancestors as Goethe had thrown upon that of the Rhine
+barons. This led him to subordinate the part played by the goblin page
+in the proposed story, which was now widened to include elaborate
+pictures of medieval life and manners, and to lay the scene in the
+castle of Branksome, formerly the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> stronghold of Scott's and the Duke of
+Buccleugh's ancestors. The verse form into which the story was thrown
+was due to a still more accidental circumstance, i.e., Scott's
+overhearing Sir John Stoddard recite a fragment of Coleridge's
+unpublished poem "Christabel." The placing of the story in the mouth of
+an old harper fallen upon evil days, was a happy afterthought; besides
+making a beautiful framework for the main poem, it enabled the author to
+escape criticism for any violent innovations of style, since these could
+always be attributed to the rude and wild school of poetry to which the
+harper was supposed to belong. In these ways <span class="italic">The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel</span> gradually developed in its present form. Upon its publication
+in 1805, it achieved an immediate success. The vividness of its
+descriptive passages, the buoyant rush of its meter, the deep romantic
+glow suffusing all its pages, took by storm a public familiar to
+weariness with the decorous abstractions of the eighteenth century
+poets. The first edition, a sumptuous quarto, was exhausted in a few
+weeks; an octavo edition of fifteen hundred was sold out within the
+year; and before 1830, forty-four thousand copies were needed to supply
+the popular demand. Scott received in all something under eight hundred
+pounds for the <span class="italic">Lay</span>, a small amount when contrasted with his gains from
+subsequent poems, but a sum so unusual nevertheless that he determined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
+forthwith to devote as much time to literature as he could spare from
+his legal duties; those he still placed foremost, for until near the
+close of his life he clung to his adage that literature was "a good
+staff, but a poor crutch."</p>
+
+<p>A year before the publication of the <span class="italic">Lay</span>, Scott had removed to the
+small country seat of Ashestiel, in Selkirkshire, seven miles from the
+nearest town, Selkirk, and several miles from any neighbor. In the
+introductions to the various cantos of <span class="italic">Marmion</span> he has given us a
+delightful picture of Ashestiel and its surroundings&mdash;the swift
+Glenkinnon dashing through the estate in a deep ravine, on its way to
+join the Tweed; behind the house the rising hills beyond which lay the
+lovely scenery of the Yarrow. The eight years (1804&ndash;1812) at Ashestiel
+were the serenest, and probably the happiest, of Scott's life. Here he
+wrote his two greatest poems, <span class="italic">Marmion</span> and <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span>. His
+mornings he spent at his desk, always with a faithful hound at his feet
+watching the tireless hand as it threw off sheet after sheet of
+manuscript to make up the day's stint. By one o'clock he was, as he
+said, "his own man," free to spend the remaining hours of light with his
+children, his horses, and his dogs, or to indulge himself in his
+life-long passion for tree-planting. His robust and healthy nature made
+him excessively fond of all out-of-door sports, especially riding, in
+which he was daring to foolhardiness. It is a curious fact, noted by
+Lockhart,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> that many of Scott's senses were blunt; he could scarcely,
+for instance, tell one wine from another by the taste, and once sat
+quite unconscious at his table while his guests were manifesting extreme
+uneasiness over the approach of a too-long-kept haunch of venison, but
+his sight was unusually keen, as his hunting exploits proved. His little
+son once explained his father's popularity by saying that "it was him
+that commonly saw the hare sitting." What with hunting, fishing,
+salmon-spearing by torchlight, gallops over the hills into the Yarrow
+country, planting and transplanting of his beloved trees, Scott's life
+at Ashestiel, during the hours when he was "his own man," was a very
+full and happy one.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, he had already embarked in an enterprise which was
+destined to overthrow his fortunes just when they seemed fairest. While
+at school in Kelso he had become intimate with a school fellow named
+James Ballantyne, and later, when Ballantyne set up a small printing
+house in Kelso, he had given him his earliest poems to print. After the
+issue of the <span class="italic">Border Minstrelsy</span>, the typographical excellence of which
+attracted attention even in London, he set Ballantyne up in business in
+Edinburgh, secretly entering the firm himself as silent partner. The
+good sale of the <span class="italic">Lay</span> had given the firm an excellent start; but more
+matter was presently needed to feed the press. To supply it, Scott
+undertook and completed at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> Ashestiel four enormous tasks of
+editing&mdash;the complete works of Dryden and of Swift, the Somers' Tracts,
+and the Sadler State Papers. The success of these editions, and the
+subsequent enormous sale of Scott's poems and novels, would have kept
+the concern solvent in spite of Ballantyne's complete incapacity for
+business, but in 1809 Scott plunged recklessly into another and more
+serious venture. A dispute with Constable, the veteran publisher and
+bookseller, aggravated by the harsh criticism delivered upon <span class="italic">Marmion</span>
+by Francis Jeffrey, editor of the <span class="italic">Edinburgh Review</span>, Constable's
+magazine, determined Scott to set up in connection with the Ballantyne
+press a rival bookselling concern, and a rival magazine, to be called
+the <span class="italic">Quarterly Review</span>. The project was a daring one, in view of
+Constable's great ability and resources; to make it foolhardy to madness
+Scott selected to manage the new business a brother of James Ballantyne,
+a dissipated little buffoon, with about as much business ability and
+general caliber of character as is connoted by the name which Scott
+coined for him, "Rigdumfunnidos." The selection of such a man for such a
+place betrays in Scott's eminently sane and balanced mind a curious
+strain of impracticality, to say the least; indeed, we are almost
+constrained to feel with his harsher critics that it betrays something
+worse than defective judgment&mdash;defective character. His greatest
+failing, if failing it can be called, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> pride. He could not endure
+even the mild dictations of a competent publisher, as is shown by his
+answer to a letter written by one of them proposing some salaried work;
+he replied curtly that he was a "black Hussar" of literature, and not to
+be put to such tame service. Probably this haughty dislike of dictation,
+this imperious desire to patronize rather than be patronized, led him to
+choose inferior men with whom to enter into business relations. If so,
+he paid for the fault so dearly that it is hard for a biographer to
+press the issue against him.</p>
+
+<p>For the present, however, the wind of fortune was blowing fair, and all
+the storm clouds were below the horizon. In 1808 <span class="italic">Marmion</span> appeared, and
+was greeted with an enthusiasm which made the unprecedented reception of
+the <span class="italic">Lay</span> seem lukewarm in comparison. <span class="italic">Marmion</span> contains nothing which
+was not plainly foreshadowed in the <span class="italic">Lay</span>, but the hand of the poet has
+grown more sure, his descriptive effects are less crude and amateurish,
+the narrative proceeds with a steadier march, the music has gained in
+volume and in martial vigor. An anecdote is told by Mr. Hutton which
+will serve as a type of a hundred others illustrative of the
+extraordinary hold which this poetry took upon the minds of ordinary
+men. "I have heard," he says, "of two old men&mdash;complete
+strangers&mdash;passing each other on a dark London night, when one of them
+happened to be repeating to himself, just as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> Campbell did to the
+hackney coachman of the North Bridge of Edinburgh, the last lines of the
+account of Flodden Field in <span class="italic">Marmion</span>, 'Charge, Chester, charge,' when
+suddenly a reply came out of the darkness, 'On, Stanley, on,' whereupon
+they finished the death of <span class="italic">Marmion</span> between them, took off their hats
+to each other, and parted, laughing." <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span>, which
+followed in little more than a year, was received with the same popular
+delight, and with even greater respect on the part of the critics. Even
+the formidable Jeffrey, who was supposed to dine off slaughtered authors
+as the Giant in "Jack and the Beanstalk" dined off young Englishmen,
+keyed his voice to unwonted praise. The influx of tourists into the
+Trossachs, where the scene of the poem was laid, was so great as
+seriously to embarrass the mail coaches, until at last the posting
+charges had to be raised in order to diminish the traffic. Far away in
+Spain, at a trying moment of the Peninsular campaign, Sir Adam Ferguson,
+posted on a point of ground exposed to the enemy's fire, read to his men
+as they lay prostrate on the ground the passage from <span class="italic">The Lady of the
+Lake</span> describing the combat between Roderick Dhu's Highlanders and the
+forces of the Earl of Mar; and "the listening soldiers only interrupted
+him by a joyous huzza when the French shot struck the bank close above
+them." Such tributes&mdash;and they were legion&mdash;to the power of his poetry
+to move adventurous and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> hardy men, must have been intoxicating to
+Scott; there is small wonder that the success of his poems gave him, as
+he says, "such a <span class="italic">heeze</span> as almost lifted him off his feet."</p>
+
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<p>Scott's modesty was not in danger, but so far as his prudence was
+concerned, his success did really lift him off his feet. In 1812, still
+more encouraged thereto by entering upon the emoluments of the office of
+Clerk of Sessions, the duties of which he had performed for six years
+without pay, he purchased Abbotsford, an estate on the Tweed, adjoining
+that of the Duke of Buccleugh, his kinsman, and near the beautiful ruins
+of Melrose Abbey. Here he began to carry out the dream of his life, to
+found a territorial family which should augment the power and fame of
+his clan. Beginning with a modest farm house and a farm of a hundred
+acres, he gradually bought, planted, and built, until the farm became a
+manorial domain and the farm house a castle. He had not gone far in this
+work before he began to realize that the returns from his poetry would
+never suffice to meet such demands as would thus be made upon his purse.
+Byron's star was in the ascendant, and before its baleful magnificence
+Scott's milder and more genial light visibly paled. He was himself the
+first to declare, with characteristic generosity,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> that the younger poet
+had "bet"<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> him at his own craft. As Carlyle says, "he had held the
+sovereignty for some half-score of years, a comparatively long lease of
+it, and now the time seemed come for dethronement, for abdication. An
+unpleasant business; which, however, he held himself ready, as a brave
+man will, to transact with composure and in silence."</p>
+
+<p>But, as it proved, there was no need for resignation. The reign of
+metrical romance, brilliant but brief, was past, or nearly so. But what
+of prose romance, which long ago, in picking out <span class="italic">Don Quixote</span> from the
+puzzling Spanish, he had promised himself he would one day attempt? With
+some such questioning of the Fates, Scott drew from his desk the sheets
+of a story begun seven years before, and abandoned because of the
+success of <span class="italic">The Lay of the Last Minstrel</span>. This story he now completed,
+and published as <span class="italic">Waverley</span> in the spring of 1814&mdash;an event "memorable
+in the annals of British literature; in the annals of British
+bookselling thrice and four times memorable." The popularity of the
+metrical romances dwindled to insignificance before the enthusiasm with
+which this prose romance was received. A moment before quietly resolved
+to give up his place in the world's eye, and to live the life of an
+obscure country gentleman, Scott found himself launched once more on the
+tide of brave fortunes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> The Ballantyne publishing and printing houses
+ceased to totter, and settled themselves on what seemed the firmest of
+foundations. At Abbotsford, buying, planting, and building began on a
+greater scale than had ever been planned in its owner's most sanguine
+moments.</p>
+
+<p>The history of the next eleven years in Scott's life is the history, on
+the one hand, of the rapidly-appearing novels, of a fame gradually
+spreading outward from Great Britain until it covered the civilized
+world&mdash;a fame increased rather than diminished by the <span class="italic">incognito</span> which
+the "author of <span class="italic">Waverley</span>" took great pains to preserve even after the
+secret had become an open one; on the other hand, of the large-hearted,
+hospitable life at Abbotsford, where, in spite of the importunities of
+curious and ill-bred tourists, bent on getting a glimpse of the "Wizard
+of the North," and in spite of the enormous mass of work, literary and
+official, which Scott took upon himself to perform, the atmosphere of
+country leisure and merriment was somehow miraculously preserved. This
+life of the hearty prosperous country laird was the one toward the
+realization of which all Scott's efforts were directed; it is worth
+while, therefore, to see as vividly as may be, what kind of life that
+was, that we may the better understand what kind of man he was who cared
+for it. The following extract from Lockhart's <span class="italic">Life of Scott</span> gives us
+at least one very characteristic aspect of the Abbotsford world:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>"It was a clear, bright September morning, with a sharpness in the
+air that doubled the animating influence of the sunshine; and all
+was in readiness for a grand coursing-match on Newark Hill. The
+only guest who had chalked out other sport for himself was the
+staunchest of anglers, Mr. Rose; but he, too, was there on his
+<span class="italic">shelty</span>, armed with his salmon-rod and landing-net.... This little
+group of Waltonians, bound for Lord Somerville's preserve, remained
+lounging about, to witness the start of the main cavalcade. Sir
+Walter, mounted on Sibyl, was marshalling the order of procession
+with a huge hunting-whip; and among a dozen frolicsome youths and
+maidens, who seemed disposed to laugh at all discipline, appeared,
+each on horseback, each as eager as the youngest sportsman in the
+troop, Sir Humphrey Davy, Dr. Wollaston, and the patriarch of
+Scottish belles-lettres, Henry Mackenzie.... Laidlow (the steward
+of Abbotsford) on a strong-tailed wiry Highlander, yclept Hoddin
+Grey, which carried him nimbly and stoutly, although his feet
+almost touched the ground, was the adjutant. But the most
+picturesque figure was the illustrious inventor of the safety-lamp
+(Sir Humphrey Davy) ... a brown hat with flexible brim, surrounded
+with line upon line of catgut, and innumerable fly-hooks; jackboots
+worthy of a Dutch smuggler, and a fustian surtout dabbled with the
+blood of salmon, made a fine contrast with the smart jacket,
+white-cord breeches, and well-polished jockey-boots of the less
+distinguished cavaliers about him. Dr. Wollaston was in black; and
+with his noble serene dignity of countenance might have passed for
+a sporting archbishop. Mr. Mackenzie, at this time in the
+seventy-sixth year of his age, with a hat turned up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> with green,
+green spectacles, green jacket, and long brown leathern gaiters
+buttoned upon his nether anatomy, wore a dog-whistle round his
+neck.... Tom Purdie (one of Scott's servants) and his subalterns
+had preceded us by a few hours with all the grey-hounds that could
+be collected at Abbotsford, Darnick, and Melrose; but the giant
+Maida had remained as his master's orderly, and now gamboled about
+Sibyl Grey barking for mere joy like a spaniel puppy.</p>
+
+<p>"The order of march had all been settled, when Scott's daughter
+Anne broke from the line, screaming with laughter, and exclaimed,
+'Papa, papa, I knew you could never think of going without your
+pet!' Scott looked round, and I rather think there was a blush as
+well as a smile upon his face, when he perceived a little black pig
+frisking about his pony, evidently a self-elected addition to the
+party of the day. He tried to look stern, and cracked his whip at
+the creature, but was in a moment obliged to join in the general
+cheers. Poor piggy soon found a strap round its neck, and was
+dragged into the background; Scott, watching the retreat, repeated
+with mock pathos, the first verse of an old pastoral song&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What will I do gin my hoggie die?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My joy, my pride, my hoggie!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My only beast, I had na mae,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wow, but I was vogie!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>&mdash;the cheers were redoubled&mdash;and the squadron moved on."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Let us supplement this with one more picture, from the same hand,
+showing Scott in a little more intimate light. The passage was written
+in 1821, after Lockhart had married Scott's eldest daughter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> and gone
+to spend the summer at Chiefswood, a cottage on the Abbotsford estate:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"We were near enough Abbotsford to partake as often as we liked of
+its brilliant and constantly varying society; yet could do so
+without being exposed to the worry and exhaustion of spirit which
+the daily reception of new-comers entailed upon all the family,
+except Scott himself. But in truth, even he was not always proof
+against the annoyances connected with such a style of open
+house-keeping.... When sore beset at home in this way, he would
+every now and then discover that he had some very particular
+business to attend to on an outlying part of his estate, and
+craving the indulgence of his guests overnight, appear at the cabin
+in the glen before its inhabitants were astir in the morning. The
+clatter of Sibyl Grey's hoofs, the yelping of Mustard and Spice,
+and his own joyous shout of <span class="italic">réveillée</span> under our windows, were the
+signal that he had burst his toils, and meant for that day to 'take
+his ease in his inn.' On descending, he was found to be seated with
+all his dogs and ours about him, under a spreading ash that
+overshadowed half the bank between the cottage and the brook,
+pointing the edge of his woodman's axe, and listening to Tom
+Purdie's lecture touching the plantation that most needed thinning.
+After breakfast he would take possession of a dressing-room
+upstairs, and write a chapter of <span class="italic">The Pirate</span>; and then, having
+made up and despatched his packet for Mr. Ballantyne, away to join
+Purdie wherever the foresters were at work ... until it was time to
+rejoin his own party at Abbotsford or the quiet circle of the
+cottage. When his guests were few and friendly, he often<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> made them
+come over and meet him at Chiefswood in a body towards evening....
+He was ready with all sorts of devices to supply the wants of a
+narrow establishment; he used to delight particularly in sinking
+the wine in a well under the <span class="italic">brae</span> ere he went out, and hauling up
+the basket just before dinner was announced,&mdash;this primitive device
+being, he said, what he had always practised when a young
+housekeeper, and in his opinion far superior in its results to any
+application of ice; and in the same spirit, whenever the weather
+was sufficiently genial, he voted for dining out of doors
+altogether."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Few events of importance except the successive appearances of "our
+buiks" as Tom Purdie called his master's novels, and an occasional visit
+to London or the continent, intervened to break the busy monotony of
+this Abbotsford life. On one of these visits to London, Scott was
+invited to dine with the Prince Regent, and when the prince became King
+George IV, in 1820, almost the first act of his reign was to create
+Scott a baronet. Scott accepted the honor gratefully, as coming, he
+said, "from the original source of all honor." There can well be two
+opinions as to whether this least admirable of English kings constituted
+a very prime fountain of honor, judged by democratic standards; but to
+Scott's mind, such an imputation would have been next to sacrilege. The
+feudal bias of his mind, strong to start with, had been strengthened by
+his long sojourn among the visions of a feudal past; the ideals of
+feudalism were living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> realities to him; and he accepted knighthood from
+his king's hand in exactly the same spirit which determined his attitude
+of humility towards his "chief," the Duke of Buccleugh, and which
+impelled him to exhaust his genius in the effort to build up a great
+family estate.</p>
+
+<p>There were already signs that the enormous burden of work under which he
+seemed to move so lightly, was telling on him. <span class="italic">The Bride of
+Lammermoor</span>, <span class="italic">The Legend of Montrose</span>, and <span class="italic">Ivanhoe</span>, had all of them
+been dictated between screams of pain, wrung from his lips by a chronic
+cramp of the stomach. By the time he reached <span class="italic">Redgauntlet</span> and <span class="italic">St.
+Ronan's Well</span>, there began to be heard faint murmurings of discontent
+from his public, hints that he was writing too fast, and that the noble
+wine he had poured them for so long was growing at last a trifle watery.
+To add to these causes of uneasiness, the commercial ventures in which
+he was interested drifted again into a precarious state. He had himself
+fallen into the bad habit of forestalling the gains from his novels by
+heavy drafts on his publishers, and the example thus set was followed
+faithfully by John Ballantyne. Scott's good humor and his partner's bad
+judgment saddled the concern with a lot of unsalable books. In 1818 the
+affairs of the book-selling business had to be closed up, Constable
+taking over the unsalable stock and assuming the outstanding liabilities
+in return for copyright privileges covering some of Scott's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> novels.
+This so burdened the veteran publisher that when, in 1825, a large
+London firm failed, it carried him down also&mdash;and with him James
+Ballantyne, with whom he had entered into close relations. Scott's
+secret connection with Ballantyne had continued; accordingly he woke up
+one fine day to find himself worse than beggared, being personally
+liable for one hundred and thirty thousand pounds.</p>
+
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<p>The years intervening between this calamity and Scott's death form one
+of the saddest and at the same time most heroic chapters in the history
+of literature. The fragile health of Lady Scott succumbed almost
+immediately to the crushing blow, and she died in a few months. Scott
+surrendered Abbotsford to his creditors and took up humble lodgings in
+Edinburgh. Here, with a pride and stoical courage as quiet as it was
+splendid, he settled down to fill with the earnings of his pen the vast
+gulf of debt for which he was morally scarcely responsible at all. In
+three years he wrote <span class="italic">Woodstock</span>, three <span class="italic">Chronicles of the Canongate</span>,
+the <span class="italic">Fair Maid of Perth</span>, <span class="italic">Anne of Geierstein</span>, the first series of the
+<span class="italic">Tales of a Grandfather</span>, and a <span class="italic">Life of Napoleon</span>, equal to thirteen
+volumes of novel size, besides editing and annotating a complete edition
+of his own works. All these together netted his creditors Ł40,000.
+Touched by the efforts he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> making to settle their claims, they now
+presented him with Abbotsford, and thither he returned to spend the few
+years remaining to him. In 1830 he suffered a first stroke of paralysis;
+refusing to give up, however, he made one more desperate rally to
+recapture his old power of story-telling. <span class="italic">Count Robert of Paris</span> and
+<span class="italic">Castle Dangerous</span> were the pathetic result; they are not to be taken
+into account, in any estimate of his powers, for they are manifestly the
+work of a paralytic patient. The gloomy picture is darkened by an
+incident which illustrates strikingly one phase of Scott's character.</p>
+
+<p>The great Reform Bill was being discussed throughout Scotland, menacing
+what were really abuses, but what Scott, with his intense conservatism,
+believed to be sacred and inviolable institutions. The dying man roused
+himself to make a stand against the abominable bill. In a speech which
+he made at Jedburgh, he was hissed and hooted by the crowd, and he left
+the town with the dastardly cry of "Burk Sir Walter!" ringing in his
+ears.</p>
+
+<p>Nature now intervened to ease the intolerable strain. Scott's anxiety
+concerning his debt gradually gave way to an hallucination that it had
+all been paid. His friends took advantage of the quietude which followed
+to induce him to make the journey to Italy, in the fear that the severe
+winter of Scotland would prove fatal. A ship of His Majesty's fleet was
+put at his disposal, and he set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> sail for Malta. The youthful
+adventurousness of the man flared up again oddly for a moment, when he
+insisted on being set ashore upon a volcanic island in the Mediterranean
+which had appeared but a few days before and which sank beneath the
+surface shortly after. The climate of Malta at first appeared to benefit
+him; but when he heard, one day, of the death of Goethe at Weimar, he
+seemed seized with a sudden apprehension of his own end, and insisted
+upon hurrying back through Europe, in order that he might look once more
+on Abbotsford. On the ride from Edinburgh he remained for the first two
+stages entirely unconscious. But as the carriage entered the valley of
+the Gala he opened his eyes and murmured the name of objects as they
+passed, "Gala water, surely&mdash;Buckholm&mdash;Torwoodlee." When the towers of
+Abbotsford came in view, he was so filled with delight that he could
+scarcely be restrained from leaping out. At the gates he greeted
+faithful Laidlaw in a voice strong and hearty as of old: "Why, man, how
+often I have thought of you!" and smiled and wept over the dogs who came
+rushing as in bygone times to lick his hand. He died a few days later,
+on the afternoon of a glorious autumn day, with all the windows open, so
+that he might catch to the last the whisper of the Tweed over its
+pebbles.</p>
+
+<p>"And so," says Carlyle, "the curtain falls; and the strong Walter Scott
+is with us no more. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> possession from him does remain; widely
+scattered; yet attainable; not inconsiderable. It can be said of him,
+when he departed, he took a Man's life along with him. No sounder piece
+of British manhood was put together in that eighteenth century of Time.
+Alas, his fine Scotch face, with its shaggy honesty, sagacity and
+goodness, when we saw it latterly on the Edinburgh streets, was all worn
+with care, the joy all fled from it&mdash;plowed deep with labor and sorrow.
+We shall never forget it; we shall never see it again. Adieu, Sir
+Walter, pride of all Scotchmen, take our proud and sad farewell."</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See Scott's ballad "The Eve of St. John."</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Asked.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Bested, got the better of.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
+<a name="II_SCOTTS_PLACE_IN_THE_ROMANTIC_MOVEMENT" id="II_SCOTTS_PLACE_IN_THE_ROMANTIC_MOVEMENT"></a>II. SCOTT'S PLACE IN THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT</h2>
+
+
+<p>In order rightly to appreciate the poetry of Scott it is necessary to
+understand something of that remarkable "Romantic Movement" which took
+place toward the end of the eighteenth century, and within a space of
+twenty-five years completely changed the face of English literature.
+Both the causes and the effects of this movement were much more than
+merely literary; the "romantic revival" penetrated every crevice and
+ramification of life in those parts of Europe which it affected; its
+social, political, and religious results were all deeply significant.
+But we must here confine ourselves to such aspects of the revival as
+showed themselves in English poetry.</p>
+
+<p>Eighteenth century poetry had been distinguished by its polish, its
+formal correctness, or&mdash;to use a term in much favor with critics of that
+day&mdash;its "elegance." The various and wayward metrical effects of the
+Elizabethan and Jacobean poets had been discarded for a few
+well-recognized verse forms, which themselves in turn had become still
+further limited by the application to them of precise rules of
+structure. Hand in hand with this restricting process in meter, had gone
+a similar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> tendency in diction. The simple, concrete phrases of daily
+speech had given way to stately periphrases; the rich and riotous
+vocabulary of earlier poetry had been replaced by one more decorous,
+measured, and high-sounding. A corresponding process of selection and
+exclusion was applied to the subject matter of poetry. Passion, lyric
+exaltation, delight in the concrete life of man and nature, passed out
+of fashion; in their stead came social satire, criticism, generalized
+observation. While the classical influence, as it is usually called, was
+at its height, with such men as Dryden and Pope to exemplify it, it did
+a great work; but toward the end of the eighth decade of the eighteenth
+century it had visibly run to seed. The feeble Hayley, the silly Della
+Crusca, the arid Erasmus Darwin, were its only exemplars. England was
+ripe for a literary revolution, a return to nature and to passion; and
+such a revolution was not slow in coming.</p>
+
+<p>It announced itself first in George Crabbe, who turned to paint the life
+of the poor with patient realism; in Burns, who poured out in his songs
+the passion of love, the passion of sorrow, the passion of conviviality;
+in Blake, who tried to reach across the horizon of visible fact to
+mystical heavens of more enduring reality. Following close upon these
+men came the four poets destined to accomplish the revolution which the
+early comers had begun. They were born within four years of each other,
+Wordsworth in 1770, Scott in 1771, Coleridge in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> 1772, Southey in 1774.
+As we look at these four men now, and estimate their worth as poets, we
+see that Southey drops almost out of the account, and that Wordsworth
+and Coleridge stand, so far as the highest qualities of poetry go, far
+above Scott, as, indeed, Blake and Burns do also. But the contemporary
+judgment upon them was directly the reverse; and Scott's poetry
+exercised an influence over his age immeasurably greater than that of
+any of the other three. Let us attempt to discover what qualities this
+poetry possessed which gave it its astonishing hold upon the age when it
+was written. In so doing, we may discover indirectly some of the reasons
+why it still retains a large portion of its popularity, and perhaps
+arrive at some grounds of judgment by which we may test its right
+thereto.</p>
+
+<p>One reason why Scott's poetry was immediately welcomed, while that of
+Wordsworth and of Coleridge lay neglected, is to be found in the fact
+that in the matter of diction Scott was much less revolutionary than
+they. By nature and education he was conservative; he put <span class="italic">The Lay of
+the Last Minstrel</span> into the mouth of a rude harper of the North in order
+to shield himself from the charge of "attempting to set up a new school
+in poetry," and he never throughout his life violated the conventions,
+literary or social, if he could possibly avoid doing so. This bias
+toward conservatism and conventionality shows itself particularly in
+the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> language of his poems. He was compelled, of course, to use much
+more concrete and vivid terms than the eighteenth century poets had
+used, because he was dealing with much more concrete and vivid matter;
+but his language, nevertheless, has a prevailing stateliness, and at
+times an artificiality, which recommended it to readers tired of the
+inanities of Hayley and Mason, but unwilling to accept the startling
+simplicity and concreteness of diction exemplified by the Lake poets at
+their best.</p>
+
+<p>Another peculiarity of Scott's poetry which made powerfully for its
+popularity, was its spirited meter. People were weary of the heroic
+couplet, and turned eagerly to these hurried verses, that went on their
+way with the sharp tramp of moss-troopers, and heated the blood like a
+drum. The meters of Coleridge, subtle, delicate, and poignant, had been
+passed by with indifference&mdash;had not been heard perhaps, for lack of
+ears trained to hear; but Scott's metrical effects were such as a child
+could appreciate, and a soldier could carry in his head.</p>
+
+<p>Analogous to this treatment of meter, though belonging to a less formal
+side of his art, was Scott's treatment of nature, the landscape setting
+of his stories. Perhaps the most obvious feature of the romantic revival
+was a reawakening of interest in out-door nature. It was as if for a
+hundred years past people had been stricken blind as soon as they passed
+from the city streets into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> the country. A trim garden, an artfully
+placed country house, a well-kept preserve, they might see; but for the
+great shaggy world of mountain and sea&mdash;it had been shut out of man's
+elegant vision. Before Scott began to write there had been no lack of
+prophets of the new nature-worship, but none of them of a sort to catch
+the general ear. Wordsworth's pantheism was too mystical, too delicate
+and intuitive, to recommend itself to any but chosen spirits; Crabbe's
+descriptions were too minute, Coleridge's too intense, to please. Scott
+was the first to paint nature with a broad, free touch, without raptures
+or philosophizing, but with a healthy pleasure in its obvious beauties,
+such as appeal to average men. His "scenery" seldom exists for its own
+sake, but serves, as it should, for background and setting of his story.
+As his readers followed the fortunes of William of Deloraine or Roderick
+Dhu, they traversed by sunlight and by moonlight landscapes of wild
+romantic charm, and felt their beauty quite naturally, as a part of the
+excitement of that wild life. They felt it the more readily because of a
+touch of artificial stateliness in the handling, a slight theatrical
+heightening of effect&mdash;from an absolute point of view a defect, but
+highly congenial to the taste of the time. It was the scenic side of
+nature which Scott gave, and gave inimitably, while Burns was piercing
+to the inner heart of her tenderness in his lines "To a Mountain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> Daisy"
+and "To a Mouse," while Wordsworth was mystically communing with her
+soul, in his "Tintern Abbey." It was the scenic side of nature for which
+the perceptions of men were ripe; so they left profounder poets to their
+musings, and followed after the poet who could give them a brilliant
+story set in a brilliant scene.</p>
+
+<p>Again, the emotional key to Scott's poetry was on a comprehensible
+plane. The situations with which he deals, the passions, ambitions,
+satisfactions, which he portrays, belong, in one form or another, to all
+men, or at least are easily grasped by the imaginations of all men. It
+has often been said that Scott is the most Homeric of English poets; so
+far as the claim rests on considerations of style, it is hardly to be
+granted, for nothing could be farther than the hurrying torrent of
+Scott's verse from the "long and refluent music" of Homer. But in this
+other respect, that he deals in the rudimentary stuff of human character
+in a straightforward way, without a hint of modern complexities and
+super-subtleties, he is really akin to the master poet of antiquity.
+This, added to the crude wild life which he pictures, the vigorous sweep
+of his action, the sincere glow of romance which bathes his story&mdash;all
+so tonic in their effect upon minds long used to the stuffy decorum of
+didactic poetry, completed the triumph of <span class="italic">The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel</span>, <span class="italic">Marmion</span>, and <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span>, over their age.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>As has been already suggested, Scott cannot be put in the first rank of
+poets. No compromise can be made on this point, because upon it the
+whole theory of poetry depends. Neither on the formal nor on the
+essential sides of his art is he among the small company of the supreme.
+And no one understood this better than himself. He touched the keynote
+of his own power, though with too great modesty, when he said, "I am
+sensible that if there is anything good about my poetry ... it is a
+hurried frankness of composition which pleases soldiers, sailors, and
+young people of bold and active dispositions." The poet Campbell, who
+was so fascinated by Scott's ballad of "Cadyow Castle" that he used to
+repeat it aloud on the North Bridge of Edinburgh until "the whole
+fraternity of coachmen knew him by tongue as he passed," characterizes
+the predominant charm of Scott's poetry as lying in a "strong, pithy
+eloquence," which is perhaps only another name for "hurried frankness of
+composition." If this is not the highest quality to which poetry can
+attain, it is a very admirable one; and it will be a sad day for the
+English-speaking race when there shall not be found persons of every age
+and walk of life, to take the same delights in these stirring poems as
+their author loved to think was taken by "soldiers, sailors, and young
+people of bold and active dispositions."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
+III. THE LADY OF THE LAKE</h2>
+
+
+<h3><a name="HISTORICAL_SETTING" id="HISTORICAL_SETTING"></a>1. HISTORICAL SETTING</h3>
+
+<p><span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span> deals with a distinct epoch in the life of King
+James V of Scotland, and has lying back of it a considerable amount of
+historical fact, an understanding of which will help in the appreciation
+of the poem. During his minority the King was under the tutelage of
+Archibald Douglas, sixth Earl of Angus, who had married the King's
+mother. The young monarch chafed for a long time under this authority,
+but the Douglases were so powerful that he was unable to shake it off,
+in spite of several desperate attempts on the part of his sympathizers
+to rescue him. In 1528 the King, then sixteen years of age, escaped from
+his own castle of Falkland to Stirling Castle. The governor of Stirling,
+an enemy of the Douglas family, received him joyfully. There soon
+gathered about his standard a sufficient number of powerful peers to
+enable him to depose the Earl of Angus from the regency and to banish
+him and all his family to England. The Douglas who figures in the poem
+is an imaginary uncle of the banished regent, and himself under the ban,
+compelled to hide away in the shelter provided for him by Roderick Dhu
+on the lonely island in Loch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> Katrine. He is represented as having been
+loved and trusted by King James during the boyhood of the latter, before
+the enmity sprang up between the house of Angus and the throne. This
+enmity, to quote from the <span class="italic">History of the House of Douglas</span>, published
+at Edinburgh in 1743, "was so inveterate, that numerous as their allies
+were, their nearest friends, even in the most remote parts of Scotland,
+durst not entertain them, unless under the strictest and closest
+disguise."</p>
+
+<p>The outlawed border chieftain, Roderick Dhu, who gives shelter to the
+persecuted Douglas, is a fictitious character, but one entirely typical
+of the time and place. The expedition undertaken by the young King
+against the Border clans, under the guise of a hunting party, is in
+part, at least, historic. Pitscottie's History says: "In 1529 James V
+made a convention at Edinburgh for the purpose of considering the best
+mode of quelling the Border robbers, who, during the license of his
+minority and the troubles which followed, had committed many
+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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> Henderland, who had
+prepared, according to tradition, a feast for his reception."</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="GENERAL_CRITICISM_AND_ANALYSIS" id="GENERAL_CRITICISM_AND_ANALYSIS"></a>2. GENERAL CRITICISM AND ANALYSIS</h3>
+
+<p><span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span> appeared in 1810. Two years before, <span class="italic">Marmion</span> had
+vastly increased the popular enthusiasm aroused by <span class="italic">The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel</span>, and the success of his second long poem had so exhilarated
+Scott that, as he says, he "felt equal to anything and everything." To
+one of his kinswomen, who urged him not to jeopardize his fame by
+another effort in the same kind, he gaily quoted the words of Montrose:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He either fears his fate too much<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or his deserts are small,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who dares not put it to the touch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To win or lose it all.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The result justified his confidence; for not only was <span class="italic">The Lady of the
+Lake</span> as successful as its predecessors, but it remains the most
+sterling of Scott's poems. The somewhat cheap supernaturalism of the
+<span class="italic">Lay</span> appears in it only for a moment; both the story and the characters
+are of a less theatrical type than in <span class="italic">Marmion</span>; and it has a glow,
+animation, and onset, which was denied to the later poems, <span class="italic">Rokeby</span> and
+<span class="italic">The Lord of the Isles</span>.</p>
+
+<p>The following outline abridged from the excellent one given by Francis
+Jeffrey in the <span class="italic">Edinburgh</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span><span class="italic"> Review</span> for August, 1810, will be useful as a
+basis for criticism of the matter and style of the poem.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"The first canto begins with a description of a staghunt in the
+Highlands of Perthshire. As the chase lengthens, the sportsmen drop
+off; till at last the foremost horseman is left alone; and his
+horse, overcome with fatigue, stumbles and dies. The adventurer,
+climbing up a craggy eminence, discovers Loch Katrine spread out in
+evening glory before him. The huntsman winds his horn; and sees, to
+his infinite surprise, a little skiff, guided by a lovely woman,
+glide from beneath the trees that overhang the water, and approach
+the shore at his feet. Upon the stranger's approach, she pushes the
+shallop from the shore in alarm. After a short parley, however, she
+carries him to a woody island, where she leads him into a sort of
+silvan mansion, rudely constructed, and hung round with trophies of
+war and the chase. An elderly lady is introduced at supper; and the
+stranger, after disclosing himself to be 'James Fitz-James, the
+knight of Snowdoun,' tries in vain to discover the name and history
+of the ladies.</p>
+
+<p>"The second canto opens with a picture of the aged harper,
+Allan-bane, sitting on the island beach with the damsel, watching
+the skiff which carries the stranger back to land. A conversation
+ensues, from which the reader gathers that the lady is a daughter
+of the Douglas, who, being exiled by royal displeasure from court,
+had accepted this asylum from Sir Roderick Dhu, a Highland
+chieftain long outlawed for deeds of blood; that this dark chief is
+in love with his fair <span class="italic">protégée</span>, but that her affections are
+engaged to Malcolm Graeme, a younger and more amiable mountaineer.
+The sound of distant music is heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> on the lake; and the barges of
+Sir Roderick are discovered, proceeding in triumph to the island.
+Ellen, hearing her father's horn at that instant on the opposite
+shore, flies to meet him and Malcolm Graeme, who is received with
+cold and stately civility by the lord of the isle. Sir Roderick
+informs the Douglas that his retreat has been discovered, and that
+the King (James V), under pretence of hunting, has assembled a
+large force in the neighborhood. He then proposes impetuously that
+they should unite their fortunes by his marriage with Ellen, and
+rouse the whole Western Highlands. The Douglas, intimating that his
+daughter has repugnances which she cannot overcome, declares that
+he will retire to a cave in the neighboring mountains until the
+issue of the King's threat is seen. The heart of Roderick is wrung
+with agony at this rejection; and when Malcolm advances to Ellen,
+he pushes him violently back&mdash;and a scuffle ensues, which is with
+difficulty appeased by the giant arm of Douglas. Malcolm then
+withdraws in proud resentment, plunges into the water, and swims
+over by moonlight to the mainland.</p>
+
+<p>"The third canto opens with an account of the ceremonies employed
+in summoning the clan. This is accomplished by the consecration of
+a small wooden cross, which, with its points scorched and dipped in
+blood, is carried with incredible celerity through the whole
+territory of the chieftain. The eager fidelity with which this
+fatal signal is carried on, is represented with great spirit. A
+youth starts from the side of his father's coffin, to bear it
+forward, and, having run his stage, delivers it to a young
+bridegroom returning from church, who instantly binds his plaid
+around him, and rushes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> onward. In the meantime Douglas and his
+daughter have taken refuge in the mountain cave; and Sir Roderick,
+passing near their retreat on his way to the muster, hears Ellen's
+voice singing her evening hymn to the Virgin. He does not obtrude
+on her devotions, but hurries to the place of rendezvous.</p>
+
+<p>"The fourth canto begins with some ceremonies by a wild hermit of
+the clan, to ascertain the issue of the impending war; and this
+oracle is obtained&mdash;that the party shall prevail which first sheds
+the blood of its adversary. The scene then shifts to the retreat of
+the Douglas, where the minstrel is trying to soothe Ellen in her
+alarm at the disappearance of her father by singing a fairy ballad
+to her. As the song ends, the knight of Snowdoun suddenly appears
+before her, declares his love, and urges her to put herself under
+his protection. Ellen throws herself on his generosity, confesses
+her attachment to Graeme, and prevails on him to seek his own
+safety by a speedy retreat from the territory of Roderick Dhu.
+Before he goes, the stranger presents her with a ring, which he
+says he has received from King James, with a promise to grant any
+boon asked by the person producing it. As he retreats, his
+suspicions are excited by the conduct of his guide, and confirmed
+by the warnings of a mad woman whom they encounter. His false guide
+discharges an arrow at him, which kills the maniac. The knight
+slays the murderer; and learning from the expiring victim that her
+brain had been turned by the cruelty of Sir Roderick Dhu, he vows
+vengeance. When chilled with the midnight cold and exhausted with
+fatigue, he suddenly comes upon a chief reposing by a lonely
+watch-fire; and being challenged in the name of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> Roderick Dhu,
+boldly avows himself his enemy. The clansman, however, disdains to
+take advantage of a worn-out wanderer; and pledges him safe escort
+out of Sir Roderick's territory, when he must answer his defiance
+with his sword. The stranger accepts these chivalrous terms; and
+the warriors sup and sleep together. This ends the fourth canto.</p>
+
+<p>"At dawn, the knight and the mountaineer proceed toward the Lowland
+frontier. A dispute arises concerning the character of Roderick
+Dhu, and the knight expresses his desire to meet in person and do
+vengeance upon the predatory chief. 'Have then thy wish!' answers
+his guide; and gives a loud whistle. A whole legion of armed men
+start up from their mountain ambush in the heath; while the chief
+turns proudly and says, 'I am Roderick Dhu!' Sir Roderick then by a
+signal dismisses his men to their concealment. Arrived at his
+frontier, the chief forces the knight to stand upon his defense.
+Roderick, after a hard combat is laid wounded on the ground;
+Fitz-James, sounding his bugle, brings four squires to his side;
+and, after giving the wounded chief into their charge, gallops
+rapidly on towards Stirling. As he ascends the hill to the castle,
+he descries approaching the same place the giant form of Douglas,
+who has come to deliver himself up to the King, in order to save
+Malcolm Graeme and Sir Roderick from the impending danger. Before
+entering the castle, Douglas is seized with the whim to engage in
+the holiday sports which are going forward outside; he wins prize
+after prize, and receives his reward from the hand of the prince,
+who, however does not condescend to recognize his former favorite.
+Roused at last by an insult from one of the royal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> grooms, Douglas
+proclaims himself, and is ordered into custody by the King. At this
+instant a messenger arrives with tidings of an approaching battle
+between the clan of Roderick and the King's lieutenant, the Earl of
+Mar; and is ordered back to prevent the conflict, by announcing
+that both Sir Roderick and Lord Douglas are in the hands of their
+sovereign.</p>
+
+<p>"The last canto opens in the guard room of the royal castle at
+Stirling, at dawn. While the mercenaries are quarreling and singing
+at the close of a night of debauch, the sentinels introduce Ellen
+and the minstrel Allan-bane&mdash;who are come in search of Douglas.
+Ellen awes the ruffian soldiery by her grace and liberality, and is
+at length conducted to a more seemly waiting place, until she may
+obtain audience with the King. While Allan-bane, in the cell of Sir
+Roderick, sings to the dying chieftain of the glorious battle which
+has just been waged by his clansmen against the forces of the Earl
+of Mar, Ellen, in another part of the palace, hears the voice of
+Malcolm Graeme lamenting his captivity from an adjoining turret.
+Before she recovers from her agitation she is startled by the
+appearance of Fitz-James, who comes to inform her that the court is
+assembled, and the King at leisure to receive her suit. He conducts
+her to the hall of presence, round which Ellen casts a timid and
+eager glance for the monarch. But all the glittering figures are
+uncovered, and James Fitz-James alone wears his cap and plume. The
+Knight of Snowdoun is the King of Scotland! Struck with awe and
+terror, Ellen falls speechless at his feet, pointing to the ring
+which he has put upon her finger. The prince raises her with eager
+kindness, declares that her father is forgiven, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> bids her ask
+for a boon for some other person. The name of Graeme trembles on
+her lips, but she cannot trust herself to utter it. The King, in
+playful vengeance, condemns Malcolm Graeme to fetters, takes a
+chain of gold from his own neck, and throwing it over that of the
+young chief, puts the clasp in the hand of Ellen."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>From this outline, it will be evident that Scott had gained greatly in
+narrative power since the production of <span class="italic">The Lay of the Last Minstrel</span>.
+Not only are the elements of the "fable" (to use the word in its
+old-fashioned sense) harmonious and probable, but the various incidents
+grow out of each other in a natural and necessary way. The <span class="italic">Lay</span> was at
+best a skillful bit of carpentering whereof the several parts were
+nicely juxtaposed; <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span> is an organism, and its
+several members partake of a common life. A few weaknesses may, it is
+true, be pointed out in it. The warning of Fitz-James by the mad woman's
+song makes too large a draft upon our romantic credulity. Her appearance
+is at once so accidental and so opportune that it resembles those
+supernatural interventions employed by ancient tragedy to cut the knot
+of a difficult situation, which have given rise to the phrase <span class="italic">deus ex
+machina</span>. The improbability of the episode is further increased by the
+fact that she puts her warning in the form of a song. Scott's love of
+romantic episode manifestly led him astray here. Further, the story as a
+whole shares with all stories which turn upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> revelation of a
+concealed identity, the disadvantage of being able to affect the reader
+powerfully but once, since on a second reading the element of suspense
+and surprise is lacking. In so far as <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span> is a mere
+story, or as it has been called, a "versified novelette," this is not a
+weakness; but in so far as it is a poem, with the claim which poetry
+legitimately makes to be read and reread for its intrinsic beauty, it
+constitutes a real defect.</p>
+
+<p>Not only does this poem, with the slight exceptions just mentioned, show
+a gain over the earlier poems in narrative power, but it also marks an
+advance in character delineation. The characters of the <span class="italic">Lay</span> are, with
+one or two exceptions, mere lay-figures; Lord Cranstoun and Margaret are
+the most conventional of lovers; William of Deloraine is little more
+than an animated suit of armor, and the Lady of Branksome, except at one
+point, when from her walls she defies the English invaders, is nearly or
+quite featureless. With the characters of <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span> the
+case is very different. The three rivals for Ellen's hand are real men,
+with individualities which enhance and deepen the picturesqueness of
+each other by contrast. The easy grace and courtly chivalry, of the
+disguised King, the quick kindling of his fancy at sight of the
+mysterious maid of Loch Katrine, his quick generosity in relinquishing
+his suit when he finds that she loves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> another, make him one of the most
+life-like figures of romance. Roderick Dhu, nursing darkly his clannish
+hatreds, his hopeless love, and his bitter jealousy, with a delicate
+chivalry sending its bright thread through the tissue of his savage
+nature, is drawn with an equally convincing hand. Against his gloomy
+figure the boyish magnanimity of Malcolm Graeme, Ellen's brave
+faithfulness, made human by a surface play of coquetry, and the quiet
+nobility of the exiled Douglas, stand out in varied relief. Judged in
+connection with the more conventional character types of <span class="italic">Marmion</span>, and
+with the draped automatons of the <span class="italic">Lay</span>, the characters of <span class="italic">The Lady of
+the Lake</span> show the gradual growth in Scott of that dramatic imagination
+which was later to fill the vast scene of his prose romances with
+unforgettable figures.</p>
+
+<p>But the most significant advance which this poem shows over earlier work
+is in the greater genuineness of the poetic effect. In the description,
+for example, of the approach of Roderick Dhu's boats to the island,
+there is a singular depth of race feeling. There is borne in upon us, as
+we read, the realization of a wild and peculiar civilization; we get a
+breath of poetry keen and strange, like the shrilling of the bag-pipes
+across the water. Again, in the speeding of the fiery cross there is a
+primitive depth of poetry which carries with it a sense of "old,
+unhappy, far-off things"; it appeals to latent memories in us,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> which
+have been handed down from an ancestral past. There is nothing in either
+<span class="italic">The Lay of the Last Minstrel</span> or <span class="italic">Marmion</span> to compare for natural
+dramatic force with the situation in <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span> when
+Roderick Dhu whistles for his clansmen to appear, and the astonished
+Fitz-James sees the lonely mountain side suddenly bristle with tartans
+and spears; and the fight which follows at the ford is a real fight, in
+a sense not at all to be applied to the tournaments and other
+conventional encounters of the earlier poems. Even where Scott still
+clung to supernatural devices to help along his story, he handles them
+with much greater subtlety than he had done in his earlier efforts. The
+dropping of Douglas's sword from its scabbard when his disguised enemy
+enters the room, arouses the imagination without burdening it. It has
+the same imaginative advantage over such an episode as that in the
+<span class="italic">Lay</span>, where the ghost of the wizard comes to bear off the goblin page,
+as suggestion always has over explicit statement. This gain in subtlety
+of treatment will be made still more apparent by comparing with any
+supernatural episode of the <span class="italic">Lay</span>, the account in <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span>
+of the unearthly parentage of Brian the Hermit.</p>
+
+<p>The gain in style is less perceptible. Scott was never a great stylist;
+he struck out at the very first a nervous, hurrying meter, and a strong
+though rather commonplace diction, upon which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> he never substantially
+improved. Abundant action, rapid transitions, stirring descriptions,
+common sentiments and ordinary language heightened by a dash of pomp and
+novelty, above all a pervading animation, spirit, intrepidity&mdash;these are
+the constant elements of Scott's success, present here in their
+accustomed measure. In the broader sense of style, however, where the
+word is understood to include all the processes leading to a given
+poetical effect, <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span> has some advantage, even over
+<span class="italic">Marmion</span>. It contains nothing, to be sure, so fine or so typical of
+Scott's peculiar power, as the account of the Battle of Flodden in
+<span class="italic">Marmion</span>; the minstrel's recital of the battle of Beal' an Duine does
+not abide the comparison. The quieter parts of <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span>,
+moreover, are sometimes disfigured by a sentimentality and "prettiness"
+happily unfrequent with Scott. But the description of the approach of
+Roderick Dhu's war-boats, already mentioned, the superb landscape
+delineation in the fifth canto, and the beautiful twilight ending of
+canto third, can well stand as prime types of Scott's stylistic power.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
+<a name="THE_LADY_OF_THE_LAKE" id="THE_LADY_OF_THE_LAKE"></a>THE LADY OF THE LAKE</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2>CANTO FIRST<br />
+<br />
+THE CHASE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Harp of the North! that moldering long hast hung<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring,<a href="#note1_2" name="line1_2" id="line1_2" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Till envious ivy did around thee cling,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">5</span>
+<span class="i0">Muffling with verdant ringlet every string&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">10</span>
+<span class="i0">Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon,<a href="#note1_10" name="line1_10" id="line1_10" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When lay of hopeless love, or glory won,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">At each according pause, was heard aloud<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">15</span>
+<span class="i1">Thine ardent symphony sublime and high!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For still the burden of thy minstrelsy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">20</span>
+<span class="i1">That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O wake once more! though scarce my skill command<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And all unworthy of thy nobler strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">25</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wizard note has not been touched in vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then silent be no more! Enchantress, wake again!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The stag at eve had drunk his fill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where danced the moon on Monan's rill,<a href="#note1_29" name="line1_29" id="line1_29" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">30</span>
+<span class="i0">And deep his midnight lair had made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In lone Glenartney's hazel shade;<a href="#note1_31" name="line1_31" id="line1_31" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, when the sun his beacon red<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head,<a href="#note1_33" name="line1_33" id="line1_33" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">35</span>
+<span class="i0">Resounded up the rocky way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And faint, from farther distance borne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were heard the clanging hoof and horn.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
+II</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As Chief, who hears his warder call<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"To arms! the foemen storm the wall,"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">40</span>
+<span class="i0">The antlered monarch of the waste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sprung from his heathery couch in haste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ere his fleet career he took,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dew-drops from his flanks he shook;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like crested leader proud and high,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">45</span>
+<span class="i0">Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A moment gazed adown the dale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A moment snuffed the tainted gale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A moment listened to the cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thickened as the chase drew nigh;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">50</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, as the headmost foes appeared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With one brave bound the copse he cleared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, stretching forward free and far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.<a href="#note1_53" name="line1_53" id="line1_53" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yelled on the view the opening pack;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">55</span>
+<span class="i0">Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To many a mingled sound at once<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The awakened mountain gave response.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clattered a hundred steeds along,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">60</span>
+<span class="i0">Their peal the merry horns rung out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A hundred voices joined the shout;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hark and whoop and wild halloo,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Far from the tumult fled the roe;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">65</span>
+<span class="i0">Close in her covert cowered the doe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The falcon, from her cairn on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cast on the rout a wondering eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till far beyond her piercing ken<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hurricane had swept the glen.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">70</span>
+<span class="i0">Faint, and more faint, its failing din<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Returned from cavern, cliff, and linn,<a href="#note1_71" name="line1_71" id="line1_71" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And silence settled, wide and still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the lone wood and mighty hill.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Less loud the sounds of silvan war<a name="line1_74" id="line1_74"></a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">75</span>
+<span class="i0">Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And roused the cavern, where, 'tis told,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A giant made his den of old;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For ere that steep ascent was won,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High in his pathway hung the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">80</span>
+<span class="i0">And many a gallant, stayed perforce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was fain to breathe his faltering horse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of the trackers of the deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce half the lessening pack was near;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So shrewdly on the mountain side,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">85</span>
+<span class="i0">Had the bold burst their mettle tried.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>V</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The noble stag was pausing now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the mountain's southern brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where broad extended, far beneath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The varied realms of fair Menteith.<a href="#note1_89" name="line1_89" id="line1_89" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">90</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">With anxious eye he wandered o'er<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mountain and meadow, moss and moor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pondered refuge from his toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By far Lochard or Aberfoyle.<a href="#note1_93" name="line1_93" id="line1_93" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But nearer was the copsewood grey,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">95</span>
+<span class="i0">That waved and wept on Loch-Achray,<a href="#note1_95" name="line1_95" id="line1_95" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mingled with the pine-trees blue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the bold cliffs of Benvenue.<a href="#note1_97" name="line1_97" id="line1_97" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fresh vigor with the hope returned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With flying foot the heath he spurned,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">100</span>
+<span class="i0">Held westward with unwearied race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And left behind the panting chase.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As swept the hunt through Cambusmore;<a href="#note1_103" name="line1_103" id="line1_103" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What reins were tightened in despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">105</span>
+<span class="i0">When rose Benledi's ridge in air;<a href="#note1_105" name="line1_105" id="line1_105" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath,<a href="#note1_106" name="line1_106" id="line1_106" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For twice that day, from shore to shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">110</span>
+<span class="i0">Few were the stragglers, following far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That reached the lake of Vennachar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when the Brigg of Turk was won,<a href="#note1_112" name="line1_112" id="line1_112" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The headmost horseman rode alone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Alone, but with unbated zeal,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">115</span>
+<span class="i0">That horseman plied the scourge and steel;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">For jaded now, and spent with toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Embossed with foam, and dark with soil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While every gasp with sobs he drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The laboring stag strained full in view.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">120</span>
+<span class="i0">Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed,<a href="#note1_120" name="line1_120" id="line1_120" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fast on his flying traces came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all but won that desperate game;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">125</span>
+<span class="i0">Vindictive, toiled the bloodhounds stanch;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor nearer might the dogs attain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor farther might the quarry strain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus up the margin of the lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Between the precipice and brake,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">130</span>
+<span class="i0">O'er stock and rock their race they take.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Hunter marked that mountain high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lone lake's western boundary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deemed the stag must turn to bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where that huge rampart barred the way;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">135</span>
+<span class="i0">Already glorying in the prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Measured his antlers with his eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the death-wound and the death-halloo,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mustered his breath, his whinyard drew&mdash;<a href="#note1_138" name="line1_138" id="line1_138" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thundering as he came prepared,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">140</span>
+<span class="i0">With ready arm and weapon bared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wily quarry shunned the shock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And turned him from the opposing rock;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, dashing down a darksome glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">145</span>
+<span class="i0">In the deep Trossachs' wildest nook<a href="#note1_145" name="line1_145" id="line1_145" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His solitary refuge took.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There, while close couched, the thicket shed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cold dews and wild-flowers on his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He heard the baffled dogs in vain<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">150</span>
+<span class="i0">Rave through the hollow pass amain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chiding the rocks that yelled again.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Close on the hounds the Hunter came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To cheer them on the vanished game;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, stumbling in the rugged dell,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">155</span>
+<span class="i0">The gallant horse exhausted fell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The impatient rider strove in vain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rouse him with the spur and rein,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the good steed, his labors o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">160</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, touched with pity and remorse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I little thought, when first thy rein<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I slacked upon the banks of Seine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Highland eagle e'er should feed<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">165</span>
+<span class="i0">On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day,<a href="#note1_166" name="line1_166" id="line1_166" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That costs thy life, my gallant gray!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
+X</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then through the dell his horn resounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From vain pursuit to call the hounds.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">170</span>
+<span class="i0">Back limped, with slow and crippled pace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sulky leaders of the chase;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Close to their master's side they pressed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With drooping tail and humbled crest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But still the dingle's hollow throat<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">175</span>
+<span class="i0">Prolonged the swelling bugle-note.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The owlets started from their dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The eagles answered with their scream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round and around the sounds were cast,<a href="#note1_178" name="line1_178" id="line1_178" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till echo seemed an answering blast;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">180</span>
+<span class="i0">And on the Hunter hied his way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To join some comrades of the day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet often paused, so strange the road,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So wondrous were the scenes it showed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The western waves of ebbing day<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">185</span>
+<span class="i0">Rolled o'er the glen their level way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each purple peak, each flinty spire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was bathed in floods of living fire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But not a setting beam could glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the dark ravines below,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">190</span>
+<span class="i0">Where twined the path in shadow hid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round many a rocky pyramid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shooting abruptly from the dell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its thunder-splintered pinnacle;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Round many an insulated mass,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">195</span>
+<span class="i0">The native bulwarks of the pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Huge as the tower which builders vain<a href="#note1_196" name="line1_196" id="line1_196" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rocky summits, split and rent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Formed turret, dome, or battlement,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">200</span>
+<span class="i0">Or seemed fantastically set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With cupola or minaret,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wild crests as pagod ever decked,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or mosque of Eastern architect.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor were these earth-born castles bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">205</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor lacked they many a banner fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, from their shivered brows displayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far o'er the unfathomable glade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All twinkling with the dewdrops sheen,<a href="#note1_208" name="line1_208" id="line1_208" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The brier-rose fell in streamers green,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">210</span>
+<span class="i0">And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Boon nature scattered, free and wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each plant or flower, the mountain's child.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here eglantine embalmed the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">215</span>
+<span class="i0">Hawthorn and hazel mingled there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The primrose pale and violet flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Found in each cliff a narrow bower;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Emblems of punishment and pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">220</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Grouped their dark hues with every stain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The weather-beaten crags retain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With boughs that quaked at every breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grey birch and aspen wept beneath;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aloft, the ash and warrior oak<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">225</span>
+<span class="i0">Cast anchor in the rifted rock;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His shattered trunk, and frequent flung,<a href="#note1_227" name="line1_227" id="line1_227" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His bows athwart the narrowed sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">230</span>
+<span class="i0">Highest of all, where white peaks glanced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where glist'ning streamers waved and danced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wanderer's eye could barely view<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The summer heaven's delicious blue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So wondrous wild, the whole might seem<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">235</span>
+<span class="i0">The scenery of a fairy dream.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A narrow inlet, still and deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Affording scarce such breadth of brim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As served the wild duck's brood to swim.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">240</span>
+<span class="i0">Lost for a space, through thickets veering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But broader when again appearing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could on the dark-blue mirror trace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And farther as the Hunter strayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">245</span>
+<span class="i0">Still broader sweep its channels made.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The shaggy mounds no longer stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Emerging from entangled wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, wave-encircled, seemed to float,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like castle girdled with its moat;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">250</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet broader floods extending still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Divide them from their parent hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till each, retiring, claims to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An islet in an inland sea.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And now, to issue from the glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">255</span>
+<span class="i0">No pathway meets the wanderer's ken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unless he climb, with footing nice,<a href="#note1_256" name="line1_256" id="line1_256" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A far projecting precipice.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The broom's tough roots his ladder made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hazel saplings lent their aid;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">260</span>
+<span class="i0">And thus an airy point he won,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where, gleaming with the setting sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One burnished sheet of living gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all her length far winding lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">265</span>
+<span class="i0">With promontory, creek, and bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And island that, empurpled bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Floated amid the livelier light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mountains, that like giants stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sentinel enchanted land.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">270</span>
+<span class="i0">High on the south, huge Benvenue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down on the lake in masses threw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The fragments of an earlier world;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A wildering forest feathered o'er<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">275</span>
+<span class="i0">His ruined sides and summit hoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While on the north, through middle air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From the steep promontory gazed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The stranger, raptured and amazed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">280</span>
+<span class="i0">And, "What a scene were here," he cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"For princely pomp, or churchman's pride!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On this bold brow, a lordly tower;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that soft vale, a lady's bower;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On yonder meadow, far away,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">285</span>
+<span class="i0">The turrets of a cloister gray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How blithely might the bugle-horn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chime, when the groves were still and mute!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">290</span>
+<span class="i0">And when the midnight moon should lave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her forehead in the silver wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How solemn on the ear would come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The holy matin's distant hum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the deep peal's commanding tone<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">295</span>
+<span class="i0">Should wake, in yonder islet lone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sainted hermit from his cell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To drop a bead with every knell&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bugle, lute, and bell, and all,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Should each bewildered stranger call<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">300</span>
+<span class="i0">To friendly feast, and lighted hall.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Blithe were it then to wander here!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now&mdash;beshrew yon nimble deer&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like that same hermit's, thin and spare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The copse must give my evening fare;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">305</span>
+<span class="i0">Some mossy bank my couch must be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some rustling oak my canopy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet pass we that; the war and chase<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give little choice of resting-place&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A summer night, in greenwood spent,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">310</span>
+<span class="i0">Were but tomorrow's merriment:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But hosts may in these wilds abound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such as are better missed than found;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To meet with Highland plunderers here,<a href="#note1_313" name="line1_313" id="line1_313" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were worse than loss of steed or deer.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">315</span>
+<span class="i0">I am alone; my bugle-strain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May call some straggler of the train;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, fall the worst that may betide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere now this falchion has been tried."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But scarce again his horn he wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">320</span>
+<span class="i0">When lo! forth starting at the sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From underneath an aged oak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That slanted from the islet rock,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">A damsel guider of its way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little skiff shot to the bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">325</span>
+<span class="i0">That round the promontory steep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Led its deep line in graceful sweep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eddying, in almost viewless wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The weeping willow-twig to lave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kiss, with whispering sound and slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">330</span>
+<span class="i0">The beach of pebbles bright as snow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The boat had touched the silver strand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just as the Hunter left his stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stood concealed amid the brake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To view this Lady of the Lake.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">335</span>
+<span class="i0">The maiden paused, as if again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She thought to catch the distant strain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With head upraised, and look intent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eye and ear attentive bent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And locks flung back, and lips apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">340</span>
+<span class="i0">Like monument of Grecian art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In listening mood, she seemed to stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The guardian Naiad of the strand.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">345</span>
+<span class="i0">Of finer form or lovelier face!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What though the sun, with ardent frown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sportive toil, which, short and light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had dyed her glowing hue so bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">350</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Served too in hastier swell to show<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Short glimpses of a breast of snow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What though no rule of courtly grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To measured mood had trained her pace,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A foot more light, a step more true,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">355</span>
+<span class="i0">Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">E'en the slight harebell raised its head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Elastic from her airy tread.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What though upon her speech there hung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The accents of the mountain tongue&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">360</span>
+<span class="i0">Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The listener held his breath to hear!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her satin snood, her silken plaid,<a href="#note1_363" name="line1_363" id="line1_363" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her golden brooch such birth betrayed.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">365</span>
+<span class="i0">And seldom was a snood amid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose glossy black to shame might bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The plumage of the raven's wing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seldom o'er a breast so fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">370</span>
+<span class="i0">Mantled a plaid with modest care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never brooch the folds combined<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above a heart more good and kind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her kindness and her worth to spy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You need but gaze on Ellen's eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">375</span>
+<span class="i0">Not Katrine, in her mirror blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gives back the shaggy banks more true,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Than every free-born glance confessed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The guileless movements of her breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whether joy danced in her dark eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">380</span>
+<span class="i0">Or woe or pity claimed a sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or filial love was glowing there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or meek devotion poured a prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or tale of injury called forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The indignant spirit of the North.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">385</span>
+<span class="i0">One only passion unrevealed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With maiden pride the maid concealed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet not less purely felt the flame&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! need I tell that passion's name!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Impatient of the silent horn,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">390</span>
+<span class="i0">Now on the gale her voice was borne:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Father!" she cried; the rocks around<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loved to prolong the gentle sound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A while she paused, no answer came&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Malcolm, was thine the blast?" the name<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">395</span>
+<span class="i0">Less resolutely uttered fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The echoes could not catch the swell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"A stranger I," the Huntsman said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Advancing from the hazel shade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">400</span>
+<span class="i0">Pushed her light shallop from the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when a space was gained between,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Closer she drew her bosom's screen&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So forth the startled swan would swing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So turn to prune his ruffled wing.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">405</span>
+<span class="i0">Then safe, though fluttered and amazed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She paused, and on the stranger gazed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not his the form, nor his the eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That youthful maidens wont to fly.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On his bold visage middle age<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">410</span>
+<span class="i0">Had slightly pressed its signet sage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet had not quenched the open truth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fiery vehemence of youth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forward and frolic glee was there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The will to do, the soul to dare,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">415</span>
+<span class="i0">The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of hasty love, or headlong ire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His limbs were cast in manly mold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For hardy sports or contest bold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And though in peaceful garb arrayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">420</span>
+<span class="i0">And weaponless, except his blade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His stately mien as well implied<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A high-born heart, a martial pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if a Baron's crest he wore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sheathed in armor trod the shore.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">425</span>
+<span class="i0">Slighting the petty need he showed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He told of his benighted road;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ready speech flowed fair and free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In phrase of gentlest courtesy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet seemed that tone, and gesture bland,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">430</span>
+<span class="i0">Less used to sue than to command.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
+XXII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A while the maid the stranger eyed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, reassured, at length replied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Highland halls were open still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wildered wanderers of the hill.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">435</span>
+<span class="i0">"Nor think you unexpected come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To yon lone isle, our desert home;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before the heath had lost the dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This morn, a couch was pulled for you;<a href="#note1_438" name="line1_438" id="line1_438" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On yonder mountain's purple head<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">440</span>
+<span class="i0">Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled,<a href="#note1_440" name="line1_440" id="line1_440" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And our broad nets have swept the mere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To furnish forth your evening cheer."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Now, by the rood, my lovely maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your courtesy has erred," he said;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">445</span>
+<span class="i0">"No right have I to claim, misplaced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The welcome of expected guest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A wanderer here, by fortune tost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My way, my friends, my courser lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I ne'er before, believe me, fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">450</span>
+<span class="i0">Have ever drawn your mountain air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till on this lake's romantic strand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I found a fay in fairy land!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I well believe," the maid replied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As her light skiff approached the side,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">455</span>
+<span class="i0">"I well believe, that ne'er before<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">But yet, as far as yesternight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old Allan-bane foretold your plight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">460</span>
+<span class="i0">Was on the visioned future bent.<a href="#note1_460" name="line1_460" id="line1_460" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He saw your steed, a dappled gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lie dead beneath the birchen way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Painted exact your form and mien,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your hunting suit of Lincoln green,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">465</span>
+<span class="i0">That tasselled horn so gaily gilt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That falchion's crooked blade and hilt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That cap with heron plumage trim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yon two hounds so dark and grim.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He bade that all should ready be,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">470</span>
+<span class="i0">To grace a guest of fair degree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But light I held his prophecy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deemed it was my father's horn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The stranger smiled: "Since to your home<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">475</span>
+<span class="i0">A destined errant-knight I come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Announced by prophet sooth and old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll lightly front each high emprise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For one kind glance of those bright eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">480</span>
+<span class="i0">Permit me, first, the task to guide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your fairy frigate o'er the tide."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The maid with smile suppressed and sly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The toil unwonted saw him try;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">For seldom sure, if e'er before,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">485</span>
+<span class="i0">His noble hand had grasped an oar.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet with main strength his strokes he drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er the lake the shallop flew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With heads erect, and whimpering cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hounds behind their passage ply.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">490</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor frequent does the bright oar break<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dark'ning mirror of the lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until the rocky isle they reach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And moor their shallop on the beach.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The stranger viewed the shore around,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">495</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas all so close with copsewood bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor track nor pathway might declare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That human foot frequented there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until the mountain-maiden showed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A clambering, unsuspected road,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">500</span>
+<span class="i0">That winded through the tangled screen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And opened on a narrow green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where weeping birch and willow round<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With their long fibres swept the ground.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here, for retreat in dangerous hour,<a href="#note1_504" name="line1_504" id="line1_504" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">505</span>
+<span class="i0">Some chief had framed a rustic bower.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was a lodge of ample size,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But strange of structure and device;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of such materials as around<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The workman's hand had readiest found.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">510</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by the hatchet rudely squared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To give the walls their destined height,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sturdy oak and ash unite;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While moss and clay and leaves combined<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">515</span>
+<span class="i0">To fence each crevice from the wind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lighter pine-trees overhead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their slender length for rafters spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And withered heath and rushes dry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Supplied a russet canopy.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">520</span>
+<span class="i0">Due westward, fronting to the green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A rural portico was seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aloft on native pillars borne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of mountain fir with bark unshorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">525</span>
+<span class="i0">The ivy and Idaean vine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clematis, the favored flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which boasts the name of virgin-bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every hardy plant could bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loch Katrine's keen and searching air.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">530</span>
+<span class="i0">An instant in this porch she stayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gaily to the stranger said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"On heaven and on thy lady call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And enter the enchanted hall!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"My hope, my heaven, my trust must be,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">535</span>
+<span class="i0">My gentle guide, in following thee."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He crossed the threshold&mdash;and a clang<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of angry steel that instant rang.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">To his bold brow his spirit rushed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But soon for vain alarm he blushed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">540</span>
+<span class="i0">When on the floor he saw displayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cause of the din, a naked blade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon a stag's huge antlers swung;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For all around, the walls to grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">545</span>
+<span class="i0">Hung trophies of the fight or chase:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A target there, a bugle here,<a href="#note1_546" name="line1_546" id="line1_546" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A battle-ax, a hunting spear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And broadswords, bows, and arrows store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the tusked trophies of the boar.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">550</span>
+<span class="i0">Here grins the wolf as when he died,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there the wild-cat's brindled hide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The frontlet of the elk adorns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or mantles o'er the bison's horns;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pennons and flags defaced and stained,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">555</span>
+<span class="i0">That blackening streaks of blood retained,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With otter's fur and seal's unite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In rude and uncouth tapestry all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To garnish forth the silvan hall.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">560</span>
+<span class="i0">The wondering stranger round him gazed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And next the fallen weapon raised&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Few were the arms whose sinewy strength,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sufficed to stretch it forth at length.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And as the brand he poised and swayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">565</span>
+<span class="i0">"I never knew but one," he said,<a name="line1_565" id="line1_565"></a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield<a href="#note1_566" name="line1_566" id="line1_566" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A blade like this in battle-field."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She sighed, then smiled and took the word:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"You see the guardian champion's sword;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">570</span>
+<span class="i0">As light it trembles in his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As in my grasp a hazel wand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My sire's tall form might grace the part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Ferragus, or Ascabart;<a href="#note1_573" name="line1_573" id="line1_573" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in the absent giant's hold<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">575</span>
+<span class="i0">Are women now, and menials old."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The mistress of the mansion came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mature of age, a graceful dame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose easy step and stately port<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had well become a princely court,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">580</span>
+<span class="i0">To whom, though more than kindred knew,<a href="#note1_580" name="line1_580" id="line1_580" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Young Ellen gave a mother's due.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meet welcome to her guest she made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every courteous rite was paid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hospitality could claim,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">585</span>
+<span class="i0">Though all unasked his birth and name.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such then the reverence to a guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fellest foe might join the feast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from his deadliest foeman's door<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">590</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">At length his rank the stranger names,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James;<a href="#note1_591" name="line1_591" id="line1_591" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord of a barren heritage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which his brave sires, from age to age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By their good swords had held with toil;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">595</span>
+<span class="i0">His sire had fallen in such turmoil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he, God wot, was forced to stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oft for his right with blade in hand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This morning, with Lord Moray's train<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He chased a stalwart stag in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">600</span>
+<span class="i0">Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lost his good steed, and wandered here."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fain would the Knight in turn require<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The name and state of Ellen's sire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well showed the elder lady's mien,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">605</span>
+<span class="i0">That courts and cities she had seen;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ellen, though more her looks displayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The simple grace of silvan maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In speech and gesture, form and face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showed she was come of gentle race.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">610</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twere strange in ruder rank to find<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such looks, such manners, and such mind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dame Margaret heard with silence grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Ellen, innocently gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">615</span>
+<span class="i0">Turned all inquiry light away:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">"Weird women we&mdash;by dale and down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We dwell, afar from tower and town.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We stem the flood, we ride the blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On wandering knights our spells we cast;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">620</span>
+<span class="i0">While viewless minstrels touch the string,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis thus our charméd rimes we sing."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She sung, and still a harp unseen<a href="#note1_622" name="line1_622" id="line1_622" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Filled up the symphony between.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXI<br />
+<br />
+SONG</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">625</span>
+<span class="i1">Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dream of battled fields no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Days of danger, nights of waking.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In our isle's enchanted hall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">630</span>
+<span class="i0">Fairy strains of music fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Every sense in slumber dewing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dream of fighting fields no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">635</span>
+<span class="i0">Morn of toil, nor night of waking.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"No rude sound shall reach thine ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Armor's clang, or war-steed champing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trump nor pibroch summon here<a href="#note1_638" name="line1_638" id="line1_638" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">640</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet the lark's shrill fife may come<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At the day-break from the fallow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the bittern sound his drum,<a href="#note1_642" name="line1_642" id="line1_642" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Booming from the sedgy shallow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ruder sounds shall none be near,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">645</span>
+<span class="i0">Guards nor warders challenge here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shouting clans or squadrons stamping."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She paused&mdash;then, blushing, led the lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To grace the stranger of the day.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">650</span>
+<span class="i0">Her mellow notes awhile prolong<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cadence of the flowing song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till to her lips in measured frame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The minstrel verse spontaneous came.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>SONG&mdash;(<span class="italic">Continued</span>)</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">655</span>
+<span class="i1">While our slumbrous spells assail ye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dream not, with the rising sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bugles here shall sound reveillé.<a href="#note1_657" name="line1_657" id="line1_657" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sleep! the deer is in his den;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">660</span>
+<span class="i0">Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How thy gallant steed lay dying.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think not of the rising sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">For at dawning to assail ye,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">665</span>
+<span class="i0">Here no bugles sound reveillé."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The hall was cleared&mdash;the stranger's bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was there of mountain heather spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where oft a hundred guests had lain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dreamed their forest sports again.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">670</span>
+<span class="i0">But vainly did the heath-flower shed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its moorland fragrance round his head;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fever of his troubled breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In broken dreams the image rose<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">675</span>
+<span class="i0">Of varied perils, pains, and woes:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His steed now flounders in the brake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now sinks his barge upon the lake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now leader of a broken host,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His standard falls, his honor's lost.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">680</span>
+<span class="i0">Then&mdash;from my couch may heavenly might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chase that worst phantom of the night!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again returned the scenes of youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of confident undoubting truth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again his soul he interchanged<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">685</span>
+<span class="i0">With friends whose hearts were long estranged.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They come, in dim procession led,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cold, the faithless, and the dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As warm each hand, each brow as gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if they parted yesterday.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">690</span>
+<span class="i0">And doubt distracts him at the view&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O were his senses false or true?<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Dreamed he of death, or broken vow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or is it all a vision now?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At length, with Ellen in a grove<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">695</span>
+<span class="i0">He seemed to walk, and speak of love;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She listened with a blush and sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His suit was warm, his hopes were high.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sought her yielded hand to clasp,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a cold gauntlet met his grasp;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">700</span>
+<span class="i0">The phantom's sex was changed and gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon its head a helmet shone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slowly enlarged to giant size,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With darkened cheek and threatening eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The grisly visage, stern and hoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">705</span>
+<span class="i0">To Ellen still a likeness bore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He woke, and, panting with affright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Recalled the vision of the night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hearth's decaying brands were red.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deep and dusky luster shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">710</span>
+<span class="i0">Half showing, half concealing, all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The uncouth trophies of the hall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mid those the stranger fixed his eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where that huge falchion hung on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">715</span>
+<span class="i0">Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until, the giddy whirl to cure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He rose, and sought the moonshine pure.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>
+XXXV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The wild-rose, eglantine, and broom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wasted around their rich perfume:<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">720</span>
+<span class="i0">The birch-trees swept in fragrant balm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The aspens slept beneath the calm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The silver light, with quivering glance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Played on the water's still expanse&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wild were the heart whose passion's sway<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">725</span>
+<span class="i0">Could rage beneath the sober ray!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He felt its calm, that warrior guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While thus he communed with his breast:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Why is it, at each turn I trace<a name="line1_728" id="line1_728"></a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some memory of that exiled race?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">730</span>
+<span class="i0">Can I not mountain-maiden spy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But she must bear the Douglas eye?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can I not view a Highland brand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But it must match the Douglas hand?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can I not frame a fevered dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">735</span>
+<span class="i0">But still the Douglas is the theme?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll dream no more&mdash;by manly mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not even in sleep is will resigned.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My midnight orisons said o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll turn to rest, and dream no more."<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">740</span>
+<span class="i0">His midnight orisons he told,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A prayer with every bead of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Consigned to heaven his cares and woes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sunk in undisturbed repose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until the heath-cock shrilly crew,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">745</span>
+<span class="i0">And morning dawned on Benvenue.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
+CANTO SECOND<br />
+<br />
+THE ISLAND</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At morn the blackcock trims his jetty wing,<a href="#note2_1" name="line2_1" id="line2_1" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All Nature's children feel the matin spring<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of life reviving, with reviving day;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">5</span>
+<span class="i0">And while yon little bark glides down the bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wafting the stranger on his way again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray,<a href="#note2_7" name="line2_7" id="line2_7" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan-bane!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>II<br />
+<br />
+SONG</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">10</span>
+<span class="i0">"Not faster yonder rowers' might<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flings from their oars the spray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not faster yonder rippling bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That tracks the shallop's course in light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Melts in the lake away,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">15</span>
+<span class="i0">Than men from memory erase<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The benefits of former days;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, stranger, go! good speed the while,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor think again of the lonely isle.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"High place to thee in royal court,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">20</span>
+<span class="i1">High place in battle line,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Good hawk and hound for silvan sport,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where beauty sees the brave resort;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The honored meed be thine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True be thy sword, thy friend sincere,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">25</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy lady constant, kind and dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lost in love, and friendship's smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be memory of the lonely isle.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>III<br />
+<br />
+SONG (<span class="italic">Continued</span>)</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But if beneath yon southern sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A plaided stranger roam<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">30</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sunken cheek and heavy eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Pine for his Highland home;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, warrior, then be thine to show<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The care that soothes a wanderer's woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">35</span>
+<span class="i0">Remember then thy hap ere while,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A stranger in the lonely isle.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Or if on life's uncertain main<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mishap shall mar thy sail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If faithful, wise, and brave in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">40</span>
+<span class="i0">Woe, want, and exile thou sustain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beneath the fickle gale;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Waste not a sigh on fortune changed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On thankless courts, or friends estranged,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But come where kindred worth shall smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">45</span>
+<span class="i0">To greet thee in the lonely isle."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As died the sounds upon the tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shallop reached the mainland side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ere his onward way he took,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The stranger cast a lingering look,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">50</span>
+<span class="i0">Where easily his eye might reach<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Harper on the islet beach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reclined against a blighted tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As wasted, gray, and worn as he.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To minstrel meditation given,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">55</span>
+<span class="i0">His reverend brow was raised to heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As from the rising sun to claim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sparkle of inspiring flame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hand, reclined upon the wire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seemed watching the awakening fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">60</span>
+<span class="i0">So still he sat, as those who wait<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till judgment speak the doom of fate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So still, as if no breeze might dare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To lift one lock of hoary hair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So still, as life itself were fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">65</span>
+<span class="i0">In the last sound his harp had sped.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>V</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Upon a rock with lichens wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside him Ellen sat and smiled&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Smiled she to see the stately drake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lead forth his fleet upon the lake,<a href="#note2_69" name="line2_69" id="line2_69" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">70</span>
+<span class="i0">While her vexed spaniel, from the beach<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bayed at the prize beyond his reach?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why deepened on her cheek the rose?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forgive, forgive, Fidelity!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">75</span>
+<span class="i0">Perchance the maiden smiled to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yon parting lingerer wave adieu,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stop and turn to wave anew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, lovely ladies, ere your ire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Condemn the heroine of my lyre,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">80</span>
+<span class="i0">Show me the fair would scorn to spy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And prize such conquest of her eye!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">While yet he loitered on the spot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It seemed as Ellen marked him not;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when he turned him to the glade,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">85</span>
+<span class="i0">One courteous parting sign she made;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after, oft the knight would say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That not when prize of festal day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was dealt him by the brightest fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who e'er wore jewel in her hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">90</span>
+<span class="i0">So highly did his bosom swell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As at that simple mute farewell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now with a trusty mountain-guide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his dark stag-hounds by his side,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">He parts&mdash;the maid, unconscious still,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">95</span>
+<span class="i0">Watched him wind slowly round the hill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when his stately form was hid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The guardian in her bosom chid&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Thy Malcolm! vain and selfish maid!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">100</span>
+<span class="i0">"Not so had Malcolm idly hung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the smooth phrase of southern tongue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not so had Malcolm strained his eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Another step than thine to spy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wake, Allan-bane," aloud she cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">105</span>
+<span class="i0">To the old Minstrel by her side&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Arouse thee from thy moody dream!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll give thy harp heroic theme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And warm thee with a noble name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pour forth the glory of the Graeme!"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">110</span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce from her lip the word had rushed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When deep the conscious maiden blushed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For of his clan, in hall and bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Minstrel waked his harp&mdash;three times<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">115</span>
+<span class="i0">Arose the well-known martial chimes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thrice their high heroic pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In melancholy murmurs died.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Vainly thou bid'st, O noble maid,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clasping his withered hands, he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">120</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">"Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though all unwont to bid in vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas! than mine a mightier hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I touch the chords of joy, but low<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">125</span>
+<span class="i0">And mournful answer notes of woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the proud march, which victors tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sinks in the wailing for the dead.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O well for me, if mine alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That dirge's deep prophetic tone!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">130</span>
+<span class="i0">If, as my tuneful fathers said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed,<a href="#note2_131" name="line2_131" id="line2_131" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can thus its master's fate foretell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then welcome be the minstrel's knell!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But ah! dear lady, thus it sighed<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">135</span>
+<span class="i0">The eve thy sainted mother died;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And such the sounds which, while I strove<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wake a lay of war or love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came marring all the festal mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Appalling me who gave them birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">140</span>
+<span class="i0">And, disobedient to my call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall,<a href="#note2_141" name="line2_141" id="line2_141" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere Douglases to ruin driven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were exiled from their native heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! if yet worse mishap and woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">145</span>
+<span class="i0">My master's house must undergo,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Or aught but weal to Ellen fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brood in these accents of despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No future bard, sad Harp! shall fling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Triumph or rapture from thy string;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">150</span>
+<span class="i0">One short, one final strain shall flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fraught with unutterable woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then shivered shall thy fragments lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy master cast him down and die!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Soothing she answered him&mdash;"Assuage,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">155</span>
+<span class="i0">Mine honored friend, the fears of age;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All melodies to thee are known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That harp has rung, or pipe has blown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Lowland vale or Highland glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Tweed to Spey&mdash;what marvel, then,<a href="#note2_159" name="line2_159" id="line2_159" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">160</span>
+<span class="i0">At times, unbidden notes should rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Confusedly bound in memory's ties,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Entangling, as they rush along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The war-march with the funeral song?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Small ground is now for boding fear;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">165</span>
+<span class="i0">Obscure, but safe, we rest us here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My sire, in native virtue great,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resigning lordship, lands, and state,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not then to fortune more resigned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than yonder oak might give the wind;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">170</span>
+<span class="i0">The graceful foliage storms may reave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The noble stem they cannot grieve.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">For me,"&mdash;she stooped, and, looking round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Plucked a blue hare-bell from the ground&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"For me, whose memory scarce conveys<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">175</span>
+<span class="i0">An image of more splendid days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This little flower, that loves the lea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May well my simple emblem be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in the king's own garden grows;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">180</span>
+<span class="i0">And when I place it in my hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Allan, a bard is bound to swear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He ne'er saw coronet so fair."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then playfully the chaplet wild<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>X</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">185</span>
+<span class="i0">Her smile, her speech, with winning sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wiled the old harper's mood away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With such a look as hermits throw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When angels stoop to soothe their woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He gazed, till fond regret and pride<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">190</span>
+<span class="i0">Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Loveliest and best! thou little know'st<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rank, the honors, thou hast lost!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O might I live to see thee grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Scotland's court, thy birth-right place,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">195</span>
+<span class="i0">To see my favorite's step advance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lightest in the courtly dance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cause of every gallant's sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leading star of every eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And theme of every minstrel's art,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">200</span>
+<span class="i0">The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!"<a href="#note2_200" name="line2_200" id="line2_200" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Fair dreams are these," the maiden cried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Light was her accent, yet she sighed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Yet is this mossy rock to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Worth splendid chair and canopy;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">205</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor would my footsteps spring more gay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In courtly dance than blithe strathspey,<a href="#note2_206" name="line2_206" id="line2_206" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor half so pleased mine ear incline<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To royal minstrel's lay as thine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then for suitors proud and high,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">210</span>
+<span class="i0">To bend before my conquering eye&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou, flattering bard! thyself wilt say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride,<a href="#note2_213" name="line2_213" id="line2_213" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The terror of Loch-Lomond's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">215</span>
+<span class="i0">Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Lennox foray&mdash;for a day."<a href="#note2_216" name="line2_216" id="line2_216" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The ancient bard his glee repressed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ill hast thou chosen theme for jest!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For who, through all this western wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">220</span>
+<span class="i0">Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled!<a name="line2_220" id="line2_220"></a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Holy-Rood a knight he slew;<a href="#note2_221" name="line2_221" id="line2_221" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw, when back the dirk he drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Courtiers give place before the stride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the undaunted homicide;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">225</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And since, though outlawed, hath his hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full sternly kept his mountain land.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who else dared give&mdash;ah! woe the day,<a href="#note2_227" name="line2_227" id="line2_227" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I such hated truth should say&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Douglas, like a stricken deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">230</span>
+<span class="i0">Disowned by every noble peer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even the rude refuge we have here?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas, this wild marauding Chief<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone might hazard our relief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now thy maiden charms expand,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">235</span>
+<span class="i0">Looks for his guerdon in thy hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full soon may dispensation sought,<a href="#note2_236" name="line2_236" id="line2_236" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To back his suit, from Rome he brought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, though an exile on the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy father, as the Douglas, still<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">240</span>
+<span class="i0">Be held in reverence and fear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thou might'st guide with silken thread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">245</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy hand is on a lion's mane."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Minstrel," the maid replied, and high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her father's soul glanced from her eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"My debts to Roderick's house I know:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All that a mother could bestow,<a href="#note2_249" name="line2_249" id="line2_249" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">250</span>
+<span class="i0">To Lady Margaret's care I owe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since first an orphan in the wild<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">She sorrowed o'er her sister's child;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To her brave chieftain son, from ire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">255</span>
+<span class="i0">A deeper, holier debt is owed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, could I pay it with my blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Allan! Sir Roderick should command<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My blood, my life&mdash;but not my hand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">260</span>
+<span class="i0">A votaress in Maronnan's cell;<a href="#note2_260" name="line2_260" id="line2_260" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rather through realms beyond the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeking the world's cold charity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ne'er the name of Douglas heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">265</span>
+<span class="i0">An outcast pilgrim will she rove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than wed the man she cannot love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses gray&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That pleading look, what can it say<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But what I own?&mdash;I grant him brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">270</span>
+<span class="i0">But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave;<a href="#note2_270" name="line2_270" id="line2_270" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And generous&mdash;save vindictive mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or jealous transport, chafe his blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I grant him true to friendly band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As his claymore is to his hand;<a href="#note2_274" name="line2_274" id="line2_274" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">275</span>
+<span class="i0">But O! that very blade of steel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More mercy for a foe would feel:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I grant him liberal, to fling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among his clan the wealth they bring,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">When back by lake and glen they wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">280</span>
+<span class="i0">And in the Lowland leave behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where once some pleasant hamlet stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mass of ashes slaked with blood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hand that for my father fought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I honor, as his daughter ought;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">285</span>
+<span class="i0">But can I clasp it reeking red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From peasants slaughtered in their shed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No! wildly while his virtues gleam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They make his passions darker seem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flash along his spirit high,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">290</span>
+<span class="i0">Like lightning o'er the midnight sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While yet a child&mdash;and children know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Instinctive taught, the friend and foe&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I shuddered at his brow of gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His shadowy plaid, and sable plume;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">295</span>
+<span class="i0">A maiden grown, I ill could bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His haughty mien and lordly air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In serious mood, to Roderick's name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I thrill with anguish! or, if e'er<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">300</span>
+<span class="i0">A Douglas knew the word, with fear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To change such odious theme were best&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What think'st thou of our stranger guest?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What think I of him?&mdash;woe the while<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That brought such wanderer to our isle!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">305</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy father's battle-brand, of yore<a href="#note2_305" name="line2_305" id="line2_305" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Tine-man forged by fairy lore.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">What time he leagued, no longer foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His Border spears with Hotspur's bows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">310</span>
+<span class="i0">The footstep of a secret foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If courtly spy hath harbored here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What may we for the Douglas fear?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What for this island, deemed of old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">315</span>
+<span class="i0">If neither spy nor foe, I pray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What yet may jealous Roderick say?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Nay, wave not thy disdainful head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bethink thee of the discord dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That kindled when at Beltane game<a href="#note2_319" name="line2_319" id="line2_319" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">320</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still, though thy sire the peace renewed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smolders in Roderick's breast the feud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beware!&mdash;But hark, what sounds are these?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My dull ears catch no faltering breeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">325</span>
+<span class="i0">No weeping birch, nor aspens wake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor breath is dimpling in the lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still is the canna's hoary beard,<a href="#note2_327" name="line2_327" id="line2_327" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hark again! some pipe of war<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">330</span>
+<span class="i0">Sends the bold pibroch from afar."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Far up the lengthened lake were spied<a href="#note2_331" name="line2_331" id="line2_331" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Four darkening specks upon the tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, slow enlarging on the view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Four manned and masted barges grew,<a href="#note2_334" name="line2_334" id="line2_334" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">335</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And, bearing downwards from Glengyle,<a href="#note2_335" name="line2_335" id="line2_335" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Steered full upon the lonely isle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The point of Brianchoil they passed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, to the windward as they cast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the sun they gave to shine<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">340</span>
+<span class="i0">The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nearer and nearer as they bear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now might you see the tartans brave,<a href="#note2_343" name="line2_343" id="line2_343" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And plaids and plumage dance and wave;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">345</span>
+<span class="i0">Now see the bonnets sink and rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As his tough oar the rower plies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See, flashing at each sturdy stroke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wave ascending into smoke;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See the proud pipers on the bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">350</span>
+<span class="i0">And mark the gaudy streamers flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From their loud chanters down, and sweep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The furrowed bosom of the deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As, rushing through the lake amain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They plied the ancient Highland strain.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">355</span>
+<span class="i0">Ever, as on they bore, more loud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And louder rung the pibroch proud.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At first the sound, by distance tame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mellowed along the waters came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, lingering long by cape and bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">360</span>
+<span class="i0">Wailed every harsher note away,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Then bursting bolder on the ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those thrilling sounds, that call the might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Old Clan-Alpine to the fight.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">365</span>
+<span class="i0">Thick beat the rapid notes, as when<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mustering hundreds shake the glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hurrying at the signal dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The battered earth returns their tread.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then prelude light, of livelier tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">370</span>
+<span class="i0">Expressed their merry marching on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere peal of closing battle rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mimic din of stroke and ward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As broad sword upon target jarred;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">375</span>
+<span class="i0">And groaning pause, ere yet again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Condensed, the battle yelled amain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rapid charge, the rallying shout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Retreat borne headlong into rout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bursts of triumph, to declare<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">380</span>
+<span class="i0">Clan-Alpine's conquest&mdash;all were there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor ended thus the strain; but slow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sunk in a moan prolonged and low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And changed the conquering clarion swell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For wild lament o'er those that fell.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">385</span>
+<span class="i0">The war-pipes ceased; but lake and hill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were busy with their echoes still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, when they slept, a vocal strain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bade their hoarse chorus wake again,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">While loud a hundred clansmen raise<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">390</span>
+<span class="i0">Their voices in their Chieftain's praise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each boatman, bending to his oar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With measured sweep the burden bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In such wild cadence, as the breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes through December's leafless trees.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">395</span>
+<span class="i0">The chorus first could Allan know,<a href="#note2_395" name="line2_395" id="line2_395" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Roderick Vich Alpine, ho! iro!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And near, and nearer as they rowed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Distinct the martial ditty flowed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIX<br />
+<br />
+BOAT SONG</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">400</span>
+<span class="i1">Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long may the tree, in his banner that glances,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Heaven send it happy dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Earth lend it sap anew,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">405</span>
+<span class="i1">Gayly to borgeon, and broadly to grow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">While every Highland glen<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sends our shout back again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"<a href="#note2_408" name="line2_408" id="line2_408" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">410</span>
+<span class="i1">Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade;<a href="#note2_410" name="line2_410" id="line2_410" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
+<span class="i4">Moored in the rifted rock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Proof to the tempest's shock,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">415</span>
+<span class="i1">Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Menteith and Breadalbane, then,<a href="#note2_416" name="line2_416" id="line2_416" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Echo his praise again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin,<a href="#note2_419" name="line2_419" id="line2_419" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">420</span>
+<span class="i1">And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Widow and Saxon maid<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Long shall lament our raid,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">425</span>
+<span class="i1">Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Lennox and Leven-glen<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Shake when they hear again<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the highlands!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">430</span>
+<span class="i1">Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O that the rose-bud that graces yon islands,<a href="#note2_431" name="line2_431" id="line2_431" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">O that some seedling gem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Worthy such noble stem,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">435</span>
+<span class="i1">Honored and blest in their shadow might grow;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
+<span class="i4">Loud should Clan-Alpine then<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Ring from her deepmost glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With all her joyful female band,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">440</span>
+<span class="i0">Had Lady Margaret sought the strand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loose on the breeze their tresses flew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And high their snowy arms they threw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As echoing back with shrill acclaim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">445</span>
+<span class="i0">While, prompt to please, with mother's art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The darling passion of his heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Dame called Ellen to the strand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To greet her kinsman ere he land:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Come, loiterer, come! a Douglas thou,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">450</span>
+<span class="i0">And shun to wreathe a victor's brow?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reluctantly and slow, the maid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The unwelcome summoning obeyed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, when a distant bugle rung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the mid-path aside she sprung:<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">455</span>
+<span class="i0">"List Allan-bane! From mainland cast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hear my father's signal blast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be ours," she cried, "the skiff to guide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And waft him from the mountain side."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">460</span>
+<span class="i0">She darted to her shallop light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, eagerly while Roderick scanned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For her dear form, his mother's band,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The islet far behind her lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she had landed in the bay.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">465</span>
+<span class="i0">Some feelings are to mortals given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With less of earth in them than heaven:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if there be a human tear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From passion's dross refined and clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A tear so limpid and so meek,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">470</span>
+<span class="i0">It would not stain an angel's cheek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis that which pious fathers shed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon a duteous daughter's head!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as the Douglas to his breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His darling Ellen closely pressed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">475</span>
+<span class="i0">Such holy drops her tresses steeped,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though 'twas an hero's eye that weeped.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her filial welcomes crowded hung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Marked she, that fear, affection's proof,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">480</span>
+<span class="i0">Still held a graceful youth aloof;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No! not till Douglas named his name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Allan, with wistful look the while,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Marked Roderick landing on the isle;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">485</span>
+<span class="i0">His master piteously he eyed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then dashed, with hasty hand, away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From his dimmed eye the gathering spray;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And Douglas, as his hand he laid<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">490</span>
+<span class="i0">On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In my poor follower's glistening eye?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll tell thee: he recalls the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When in my praise he led the lay<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">495</span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While many a minstrel answered loud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Percy's Norman pennon, won<a href="#note2_497" name="line2_497" id="line2_497" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In bloody field, before me shone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And twice ten knights, the least a name<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">500</span>
+<span class="i0">As mighty as yon Chief may claim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gracing my pomp, behind me came.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was I of all that marshaled crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though the waned crescent owned my might,<a href="#note2_504" name="line2_504" id="line2_504" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">505</span>
+<span class="i0">And in my train trooped lord and knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays,<a href="#note2_506" name="line2_506" id="line2_506" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As when this old man's silent tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And this poor maid's affection dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">510</span>
+<span class="i0">A welcome give more kind and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than aught my better fortunes knew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forgive, my friend, a father's boast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! it out-beggars all I lost!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Delightful praise!&mdash;like summer rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">515</span>
+<span class="i0">That brighter in the dew-drop glows,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The bashful maiden's cheek appeared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Douglas spoke and Malcolm heard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flush of shame-faced joy to hide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">520</span>
+<span class="i0">The loved caresses of the maid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dogs with crouch and whimper paid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, at her whistle, on her hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The falcon took his favorite stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">525</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, trust, while in such guise she stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like fabled Goddess of the wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That if a father's partial thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'erweighed her worth, and beauty aught,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">530</span>
+<span class="i0">Well might the lover's judgment fail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To balance with a juster scale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For with each secret glance he stole,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fond enthusiast sent his soul.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of stature tall, and slender frame,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">535</span>
+<span class="i0">But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The belted plaid and tartan hose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His flaxen hair, of sunny hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curled closely round his bonnet blue.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">540</span>
+<span class="i0">Trained to the chase, his eagle eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ptarmigan in snow could spy;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He knew, through Lennox and Menteith;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">545</span>
+<span class="i0">When Malcolm bent his sounding bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And scarce that doe, though winged with fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Outstripped in speed the mountaineer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Right up Ben-Lomond could he press,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not a sob his toil confess.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">550</span>
+<span class="i0">His form accorded with a mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lively and ardent, frank and kind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A blither heart, till Ellen came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did never love nor sorrow tame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It danced as lightsome in his breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">555</span>
+<span class="i0">As played the feather on his crest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bards, who saw his features bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When kindled by the tales of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">560</span>
+<span class="i0">Said, were that youth to manhood grown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be foremost voiced by mountain fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now back they wend their watery way,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">565</span>
+<span class="i0">And, "O my sire!" did Ellen say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Why urge thy chase so far astray?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And why so late returned? And why"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rest was in her speaking eye.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">"My child, the chase I follow far,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">570</span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis mimicry of noble war;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with that gallant pastime reft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were all of Douglas I have left.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I met young Malcolm as I strayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade,<a href="#note2_574" name="line2_574" id="line2_574" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">575</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor strayed I safe; for all around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This youth, though still a royal ward,<a href="#note2_577" name="line2_577" id="line2_577" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Risked life and land to be my guard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And through the passes of the wood<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">580</span>
+<span class="i0">Guided my steps, not unpursued;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Roderick shall his welcome make,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen,<a href="#note2_583" name="line2_583" id="line2_583" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor peril aught for me again."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">585</span>
+<span class="i0">Sir Roderick, who to meet them came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reddened at sight of Malcolm Graeme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, not in action, word, or eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Failed aught in hospitality.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In talk and sport they whiled away<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">590</span>
+<span class="i0">The morning of that summer day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But at high noon a courier light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Held secret parley with the knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose moody aspect soon declared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That evil were the news he heard.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">595</span>
+<span class="i0">Deep thought seemed toiling in his head;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet was the evening banquet made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere he assembled round the flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Ellen too; then cast around<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">600</span>
+<span class="i0">His eyes, then fixed them on the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As studying phrase that might avail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Best to convey unpleasant tale.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long with his dagger's hilt he played,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then raised his haughty brow, and said:<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">605</span>
+<span class="i0">"Short be my speech&mdash;nor time affords,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor my plain temper, glozing words.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kinsman and father&mdash;if such name<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mine honored mother&mdash;Ellen&mdash;why,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">610</span>
+<span class="i0">My cousin, turn away thine eye?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Graeme, in whom I hope to know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full soon a noble friend or foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When age shall give thee thy command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leading in thy native land&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">615</span>
+<span class="i0">List all&mdash;The King's vindictive pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Boasts to have tamed the Border-side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To share their monarch's silvan game,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Themselves in bloody toils were snared;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">620</span>
+<span class="i0">And when the banquet they prepared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wide their loyal portals flung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er their own gateway struggling hung.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead,<a href="#note2_623" name="line2_623" id="line2_623" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">625</span>
+<span class="i0">Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the silver Teviot's side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dales, where martial clans did ride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This tyrant of the Scottish throne,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">630</span>
+<span class="i0">So faithless, and so ruthless known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now hither comes; his end the same,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The same pretext of silvan game.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By fate of Border chivalry.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">635</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet more; amid Glenfinlas' green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Douglas, thy stately form was seen.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This by espial sure I know:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your counsel in the strait I show."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ellen and Margaret fearfully<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">640</span>
+<span class="i0">Sought comfort in each other's eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then turned their ghastly look, each one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This to her sire, that to her son.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hasty color went and came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">645</span>
+<span class="i0">But from his glance it well appeared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas but for Ellen that he feared;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While, sorrowful, but undismayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Douglas thus his counsel said:<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">"Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">650</span>
+<span class="i0">It may but thunder and pass o'er;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor will I here remain an hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To draw the lightning on thy bower;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For well thou know'st, at this gray head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The royal bolt were fiercest sped.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">655</span>
+<span class="i0">For thee, who, at thy King's command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Canst aid him with a gallant band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Submission, homage, humbled pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">660</span>
+<span class="i0">Ellen and I will seek, apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The refuge of some forest cell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There, like the hunted quarry, dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till on the mountain and the moor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The stern pursuit be passed and o'er."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">665</span>
+<span class="i0">"No, by mine honor," Roderick said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"So help me Heaven, and my good blade!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No, never! Blasted be yon Pine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My fathers' ancient crest and mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If from its shade in danger part<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">670</span>
+<span class="i0">The lineage of the Bleeding Heart!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear my blunt speech: Grant me this maid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wife, thy counsel to mine aid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will friends and allies flock enow;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">675</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will bind to us each Western Chief.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the loud pipes my bridal tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Links of Forth shall hear the knell,<a href="#note2_678" name="line2_678" id="line2_678" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The guards shall start in Stirling's porch;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">680</span>
+<span class="i0">And, when I light the nuptial torch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thousand villages in flames<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall scare the slumbers of King James!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, mother, cease these signs, I pray;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">685</span>
+<span class="i0">I meant not all my heat might say.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Small need of inroad, or of fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the sage Douglas may unite<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each mountain clan in friendly band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To guard the passes of their land,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">690</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the foiled king, from pathless glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall bootless turn him home again."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There are who have, at midnight hour,<a href="#note2_692" name="line2_692" id="line2_692" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In slumber scaled a dizzy tower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, on the verge that beetled o'er<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">695</span>
+<span class="i0">The ocean tide's incessant roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till wakened by the morning beam;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, dazzled by the eastern glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such startler cast his glance below,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">700</span>
+<span class="i0">And saw unmeasured depth around,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heard unintermitted sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And thought the battled fence so frail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It waved like cobweb in the gale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amid his senses' giddy wheel,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">705</span>
+<span class="i0">Did he not desperate impulse feel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Headlong to plunge himself below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And meet the worst his fears foreshow?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As sudden ruin yawned around,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">710</span>
+<span class="i0">By crossing terrors wildly tossed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still for the Douglas fearing most,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could scarce the desperate thought withstand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To buy his safety with her hand.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">715</span>
+<span class="i0">In Ellen's quivering lip and eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eager rose to speak&mdash;but ere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His tongue could hurry forth his fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had Douglas marked the hectic strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where death seemed combating with life;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">720</span>
+<span class="i0">For to her cheek, in feverish flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One instant rushed the throbbing blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then ebbing back, with sudden sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Left its domain as wan as clay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Roderick, enough! enough!" he cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">725</span>
+<span class="i0">"My daughter cannot be thy bride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not that the blush to wooer dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor paleness that of maiden fear.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">It may not be&mdash;forgive her, Chief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor hazard aught for our relief.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">730</span>
+<span class="i0">Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will level a rebellious spear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas I that taught his youthful hand<a name="line2_732" id="line2_732"></a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rein a steed and wield a brand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see him yet, the princely boy!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">735</span>
+<span class="i0">Not Ellen more my pride and joy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I love him still, despite my wrongs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O seek the grace you well may find,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without a cause to mine combined."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">740</span>
+<span class="i0">Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The waving of his tartans broad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And darkened brow, where wounded pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With ire and disappointment vied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">745</span>
+<span class="i0">Like the ill Demon of the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the knighted pilgrim's way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, unrequited Love! thy dart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Plunged deepest its envenomed smart,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">750</span>
+<span class="i0">And Roderick, with thine anguish stung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length the hand of Douglas wrung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While eyes, that mocked at tears before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With bitter drops were running o'er.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The death-pangs of long-cherished hope<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">755</span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce in that ample breast had scope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, struggling with his spirit proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While every sob&mdash;so mute were all&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was heard distinctly through the hall.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">760</span>
+<span class="i0">The son's despair, the mother's look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ill might the gentle Ellen brook;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She rose, and to her side there came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To aid her parting steps, the Graeme.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Roderick from the Douglas broke&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">765</span>
+<span class="i0">As flashes flame through sable smoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To one broad blaze of ruddy glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So the deep anguish of despair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">770</span>
+<span class="i0">With stalwart grasp his hand he laid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Back, beardless boy!" he sternly said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Back, minion! hold'st thou thus at naught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lesson I so lately taught?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">775</span>
+<span class="i0">This roof, the Douglas, and that maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thank thou for punishment delayed."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eager as a greyhound on his game<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Perish my name, if aught afford<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">780</span>
+<span class="i0">Its Chieftain's safety save his sword!"<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus as they strove, their desperate hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Griped to the dagger or the brand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And death had been&mdash;but Douglas rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thrust between the struggling foes<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">785</span>
+<span class="i0">His giant strength: "Chieftains, forego!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hold the first who strikes, my foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Madmen, forbear your frantic jar!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What! is the Douglas fallen so far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">790</span>
+<span class="i0">Of such dishonorable broil!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sullen and slowly they unclasp,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As struck with shame, their desperate grasp,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And each upon his rival glared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With foot advanced, and blade half bared.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">795</span>
+<span class="i0">Ere yet the brands aloft were flung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As faltered through terrific dream.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">800</span>
+<span class="i0">And veiled his wrath in scornful word:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Rest safe till morning; pity 'twere<a href="#note2_801" name="line2_801" id="line2_801" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such cheek should feel the midnight air!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then mayest thou to James Stuart tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Roderick will keep the lake and fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">805</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor lackey, with his freeborn clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pageant pomp of earthly man.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">More would he of Clan-Alpine know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou canst our strength and passes show.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Malise, what ho!"&mdash;his henchman came;<a href="#note2_809" name="line2_809" id="line2_809" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">810</span>
+<span class="i0">"Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Fear nothing for thy favorite hold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spot, an angel deigned to grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">815</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy churlish courtesy for those<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reserve, who fear to be thy foes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As safe to me the mountain way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At midnight as in blaze of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though with his boldest at his back<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">820</span>
+<span class="i0">Even Roderick Dhu beset the track.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brave Douglas&mdash;lovely Ellen&mdash;nay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nought here of parting will I say.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Earth does not hold a lonesome glen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So secret but we meet again.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">825</span>
+<span class="i0">Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He said, and left the silvan bower.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Old Allan followed to the strand&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such was the Douglas's command&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And anxious told, how, on the morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">830</span>
+<span class="i0">The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Fiery Cross should circle o'er<a href="#note2_831" name="line2_831" id="line2_831" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dale, glen, and valley, down, and moor.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Much were the peril to the Graeme<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From those who to the signal came;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">835</span>
+<span class="i0">Far up the lake 'twere safest land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Himself would row him to the strand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He gave his counsel to the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round dirk and pouch and broadsword rolled,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">840</span>
+<span class="i0">His ample plaid in tightened fold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stripped his limbs to such array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As best might suit the watery way&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then spoke abrupt: "Farewell to thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pattern of old fidelity!"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">845</span>
+<span class="i0">The Minstrel's hand he kindly pressed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Oh, could I point a place of rest!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My sovereign holds in ward my land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My uncle leads my vassal band;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tame his foes, his friends to aid,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">850</span>
+<span class="i0">Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who loves the chieftain of his name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not long shall honored Douglas dwell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like hunted stag in mountain cell;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">855</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor, ere yon pride-swoll'n robber dare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I might not give the rest to air!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him nought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not the poor service of a boat,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">To waft me to yon mountain-side."<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">860</span>
+<span class="i0">Then plunged he in the flashing tide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bold o'er the flood his head he bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stoutly steered him from the shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Allan strained his anxious eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far mid the lake his form to spy,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">865</span>
+<span class="i0">Darkening across each puny wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To which the moon her silver gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fast as the cormorant could skim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The swimmer plied each active limb;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then landing in the moonlight dell,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">870</span>
+<span class="i0">Loud shouted of his weal to tell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Minstrel heard the far halloo,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And joyful from the shore withdrew.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>
+CANTO THIRD<br />
+<br />
+THE GATHERING</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who danced our infancy upon their knee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And told our marveling boyhood legends store<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">5</span>
+<span class="i0">How are they blotted from the things that be!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How few, all weak and withered of their force,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wait on the verge of dark eternity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless course.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">10</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet live there still who can remember well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And solitary heath, the signal knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fast the faithful clan around him drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">15</span>
+<span class="i1">What time the warning note was keenly wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What time aloft their kindred banner flew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>
+II</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The summer dawn's reflected hue<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">20</span>
+<span class="i0">To purple changed Loch Katrine blue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mildly and soft the western breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trembled but dimpled not for joy;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">25</span>
+<span class="i0">The mountain-shadows on her breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were neither broken nor at rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In bright uncertainty they lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like future joys to Fancy's eye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The water-lily to the light<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">30</span>
+<span class="i0">Her chalice reared of silver bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The doe awoke, and to the lawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gray mist left the mountain side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The torrent showed its glistening pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">35</span>
+<span class="i0">Invisible in fleckéd sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lark sent down her revelry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blackbird and the speckled thrush,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Good-morrow gave from brake and bush;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In answer cooed the cushat dove<a href="#note3_39" name="line3_39" id="line3_39" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">40</span>
+<span class="i0">Her notes of peace, and rest, and love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No thought of peace, no thought of rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sheathéd broadsword in his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Abrupt he paced the islet strand,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">45</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And eyed the rising sun, and laid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hand on his impatient blade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath a rock, his vassals' care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was prompt the ritual to prepare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With deep and deathful meaning fraught;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">50</span>
+<span class="i0">For such Antiquity had taught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was preface meet, ere yet abroad<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Cross of Fire should take its road.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shrinking band stood oft aghast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At the impatient glance he cast&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">55</span>
+<span class="i0">Such glance the mountain eagle threw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As, from the cliffs of Benvenue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She spread her dark sails on the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, high in middle heaven reclined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her broad shadow on the lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">60</span>
+<span class="i0">Silenced the warblers of the brake.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A heap of withered boughs was piled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of juniper and rowan wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mingled with shivers from the oak,<a href="#note3_63" name="line3_63" id="line3_63" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rent by the lightning's recent stroke.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">65</span>
+<span class="i0">Brian, the Hermit, by it stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Barefooted, in his frock and hood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His grizzled beard and matted hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Obscured a visage of despair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">70</span>
+<span class="i0">The scars of frantic penance bore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That monk, of savage form and face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The impending danger of his race<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Had drawn from deepest solitude,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far in Benharrow's bosom rude.<a href="#note3_74" name="line3_74" id="line3_74" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">75</span>
+<span class="i0">Not his the mien of Christian priest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Druid's, from the grave released,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose hardened heart and eye might brook<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On human sacrifice to look;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">80</span>
+<span class="i0">Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hallowed creed gave only worse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deadlier emphasis of curse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His cave the pilgrim shunned with care,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">85</span>
+<span class="i0">The eager huntsman knew his bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in mid chase called off his hound;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or if, in lonely glen or strath,<a href="#note3_87" name="line3_87" id="line3_87" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The desert-dweller met his path,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He prayed, and signed the cross between,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">90</span>
+<span class="i0">While terror took devotion's mien.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>V</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of Brian's birth strange tales were told.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His mother watched a midnight fold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Built deep within a dreary glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where scattered lay the bones of men<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">95</span>
+<span class="i0">In some forgotten battle slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bleached by drifting wind and rain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It might have tamed a warrior's heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To view such mockery of his art!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The knot-grass fettered there the hand<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">100</span>
+<span class="i0">Which once could burst an iron band;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the broad and ample bone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That bucklered heart to fear unknown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A feeble and a timorous guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fieldfare framed her lowly nest;<a href="#note3_104" name="line3_104" id="line3_104" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">105</span>
+<span class="i0">There the slow blindworm left his slime<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the fleet limbs that mocked at time;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there, too, lay the leader's skull,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For heath-bell with her purple bloom<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">110</span>
+<span class="i0">Supplied the bonnet and the plume.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All night, in this sad glen, the maid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sat, shrouded in her mantle's shade:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She said no shepherd sought her side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No hunter's hand her snood untied;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">115</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet ne'er again to braid her hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The virgin snood did Alice wear;<a href="#note3_116" name="line3_116" id="line3_116" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gone was her maiden glee and sport,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her maiden girdle all too short,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor sought she, from that fatal night,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">120</span>
+<span class="i0">Or holy church or blessed rite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But locked her secret in her breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And died in travail, unconfessed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Alone, among his young compeers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was Brian from his infant years;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">125</span>
+<span class="i0">A moody and heartbroken boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Estranged from sympathy and joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bearing each taunt with careless tongue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On his mysterious lineage flung.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">130</span>
+<span class="i0">To wood and stream his hap to wail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, frantic, he as truth received<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What of his birth the crowd believed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sought, in mist and meteor fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To meet and know his Phantom Sire!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">135</span>
+<span class="i0">In vain, to soothe his wayward fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cloister oped her pitying gate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In vain, the learning of the age<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unclasped the sable-lettered page;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even in its treasures he could find<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">140</span>
+<span class="i0">Food for the fever of his mind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eager he read whatever tells<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of magic, cabala, and spells,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every dark pursuit allied<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To curious and presumptuous pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">145</span>
+<span class="i0">Till with fired brain and nerves o'erstrung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heart with mystic horrors wrung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Desperate he sought Benharrow's den,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hid him from the haunts of men.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The desert gave him visions wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">150</span>
+<span class="i0">Such as might suit the specter's child.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where with black cliffs the torrents toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He watched the wheeling eddies boil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beheld the River Demon rise;<a href="#note3_154" name="line3_154" id="line3_154" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">155</span>
+<span class="i0">The mountain mist took form and limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of noontide hag, or goblin grim;<a href="#note3_156" name="line3_156" id="line3_156" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The midnight wind came wild and dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swelled with the voices of the dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far on the future battle-heath<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">160</span>
+<span class="i0">His eyes beheld the ranks of death.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shaped forth a disembodied world.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One lingering sympathy of mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still bound him to the mortal kind;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">165</span>
+<span class="i0">The only parent he could claim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of ancient Alpine lineage came.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Late had he heard, in prophet's dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream;<a href="#note3_168" name="line3_168" id="line3_168" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">170</span>
+<span class="i0">Of charging steeds, careering fast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along Benharrow's shingly side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thunderbolt had split the pine&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All augured ill to Alpine's line.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">175</span>
+<span class="i0">He girt his loins, and came to show<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The signals of impending woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now stood prompt to bless or ban,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As bade the Chieftain of his clan.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas all prepared&mdash;and from the rock,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">180</span>
+<span class="i0">A goat, the patriarch of the flock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before the kindling pile was laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pierced by Roderick's ready blade.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Patient the sickening victim eyed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The life-blood ebb in crimson tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">185</span>
+<span class="i0">Down his clogged beard and shaggy limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A slender crosslet formed with care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A cubit's length in measure due;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">190</span>
+<span class="i0">The shaft and limbs were rods of yew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave<a href="#note3_191" name="line3_191" id="line3_191" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, answering Lomond's breezes deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">195</span>
+<span class="i0">The Cross, thus formed, he held on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With wasted hand and haggard eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And strange and mingled feelings woke;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While his anathema he spoke.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Woe to the clansman, who shall view<a href="#note3_199" name="line3_199" id="line3_199" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">200</span>
+<span class="i0">This symbol of sepulchral yew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forgetful that its branches grew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where weep the heavens their holiest dew<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">On Alpine's dwelling low!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deserter of his Chieftain's trust,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">205</span>
+<span class="i0">He ne'er shall mingle with their dust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, from his sires and kindred thrust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each clansman's execration just<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Shall doom him wrath and woe."<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">He paused&mdash;the word the vassals took,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">210</span>
+<span class="i0">With forward step and fiery look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On high their naked brands they shook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their clattering targets wildly strook;<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And first in murmur low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, like the billow in his course,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">215</span>
+<span class="i0">That far to seaward finds his source,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flings to shore his mustered force,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">"Woe to the traitor, woe!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ben-an's grey scalp the accents knew,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">220</span>
+<span class="i0">The joyous wolf from cover drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The exulting eagle screamed afar&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They knew the voice of Alpine's war.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>X</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The shout was hushed on lake and fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Monk resumed his muttered spell;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">225</span>
+<span class="i0">Dismal and low its accents came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The while he scathed the Cross with flame:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the few words that reached the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Although the holiest name was there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had more of blasphemy than prayer.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">230</span>
+<span class="i0">But when he shook above the crowd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its kindled points, he spoke aloud:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Woe to the wretch, who fails to rear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At this dread sign the ready spear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, as the flames this symbol sear,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">235</span>
+<span class="i0">His home, the refuge of his fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>
+<span class="i4">A kindred fate shall know;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far o'er its roof the volumed flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While maids and matrons on his name<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">240</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall call down wretchedness and shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And infamy and woe."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then rose the cry of females, shrill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As goshawk's whistle on the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Denouncing misery and ill,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">245</span>
+<span class="i0">Mingled with childhood's babbling trill<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Of curses stammered slow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Answering, with imprecation dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Sunk be his home in embers red!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And curséd be the meanest shed<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">250</span>
+<span class="i0">That e'er shall hide the houseless head<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">We doom to want and woe!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sharp and shrieking echo gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave!<a href="#note3_253" name="line3_253" id="line3_253" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the gray pass where birches wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">255</span>
+<span class="i4">On Beala-nam-bo.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then deeper paused the priest anew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hard his laboring breath he drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While, with set teeth and clenched hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eyes that glowed like fiery brand,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">260</span>
+<span class="i0">He meditated curse more dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deadlier, on the clansman's head,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The signal saw and disobeyed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crosslet's points of sparkling wood<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">265</span>
+<span class="i0">He quenched among the bubbling blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, as again the sign he reared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"When flits this Cross from man to man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">270</span>
+<span class="i0">Burst be the ear that fails to heed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Palsied the foot that shuns to speed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May ravens tear the careless eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wolves make the coward heart their prize!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As sinks that blood-stream in the earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">275</span>
+<span class="i0">So may his heart's blood drench his hearth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As dies in hissing gore the spark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quench thou his light, Destruction dark!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And be the grace to him denied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bought by this sign to all beside!"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">280</span>
+<span class="i0">He ceased; no echo gave again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The murmur of the deep Amen.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Roderick, with impatient look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Brian's hand the symbol took:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Speed, Malise, speed!" he said, and gave<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">285</span>
+<span class="i0">The crosslet to his henchman brave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The muster-place be Lanrick mead&mdash;<a href="#note3_286" name="line3_286" id="line3_286" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Instant the time&mdash;speed, Malise, speed!"<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A barge across Loch Katrine flew;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">290</span>
+<span class="i0">High stood the henchman on the prow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So rapidly the barge-men row,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bubbles, where they launched the boat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were all unbroken and afloat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dancing in foam and ripple still,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">295</span>
+<span class="i0">When it had neared the mainland hill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the silver beach's side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still was the prow three fathom wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When lightly bounded to the land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The messenger of blood and brand.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">300</span>
+<span class="i0">Speed, Malise, speed! the dun deer's hide<a href="#note3_300" name="line3_300" id="line3_300" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On fleeter foot was never tied.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Speed, Malise, speed! such cause of haste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thine active sinews never braced.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">305</span>
+<span class="i0">Burst down like torrent from its crest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With short and springing footstep pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The trembling bog and false morass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Across the brook like roebuck bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thread the brake like questing hound;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">310</span>
+<span class="i0">The crag is high, the scar is deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet shrink not from the desperate leap:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Parched are thy burning lips and brow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet by the fountain pause not now;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Herald of battle, fate, and fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">315</span>
+<span class="i0">Stretch onward in thy fleet career!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wounded hind thou track'st not now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With rivals in the mountain race;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">320</span>
+<span class="i0">But danger, death, and warrior deed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are in thy course&mdash;speed, Malise, speed!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fast as the fatal symbol flies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In arms the huts and hamlets rise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From winding glen, from upland brown,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">325</span>
+<span class="i0">They poured each hardy tenant down.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor slacked the messenger his pace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He showed the sign, he named the place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, pressing forward like the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Left clamor and surprise behind.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">330</span>
+<span class="i0">The fisherman forsook the strand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The swarthy smith took dirk and brand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With changéd cheer, the mower blithe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Left in the half-cut swathe the scythe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The herds without a keeper strayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">335</span>
+<span class="i0">The plow was in mid-furrow stayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The falc'ner tossed his hawk away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hunter left the stag at bay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prompt at the signal of alarms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each son of Alpine rushed to arms;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">340</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">So swept the tumult and affray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the margin of Achray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas, thou lovely lake! that e'er<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy banks should echo sounds of fear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">345</span>
+<span class="i0">So stilly on thy bosom deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seems for the scene too gaily loud.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Speed, Malise, speed! the lake is past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Duncraggan's huts appear at last,<a href="#note3_349" name="line3_349" id="line3_349" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">350</span>
+<span class="i0">And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Half hidden in the copse so green;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There mayst thou rest, thy labor done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Lord shall speed the signal on.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As stoops the hawk upon his prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">355</span>
+<span class="i0">The henchman shot him down the way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;What woeful accents load the gale?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The funeral yell, the female wail!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A gallant hunter's sport is o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A valiant warrior fights no more.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">360</span>
+<span class="i0">Who, in the battle or the chase,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At Roderick's side shall fill his place!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the hall, where torches' ray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Supplies the excluded beams of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lies Duncan on his lowly bier,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">365</span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er him streams his widow's tear.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">His stripling son stands mournful by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His youngest weeps, but knows not why;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The village maids and matrons round<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dismal coronach resound.<a href="#note3_369" name="line3_369" id="line3_369" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVI<br />
+<br />
+CORONACH</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">370</span>
+<span class="i0">He is gone on the mountain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He is lost to the forest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a summer-dried fountain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When our need was the sorest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The font, reappearing,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">375</span>
+<span class="i1">From the raindrops shall borrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But to us comes no cheering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To Duncan no morrow!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The hand of the reaper<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Takes the ears that are hoary,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">380</span>
+<span class="i0">But the voice of the weeper<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wails manhood in glory.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The autumn winds rushing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Waft the leaves that are searest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But our flower was in flushing,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">385</span>
+<span class="i1">When blighting was nearest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fleet foot on the correi,<a href="#note3_386" name="line3_386" id="line3_386" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sage counsel in cumber,<a href="#note3_387" name="line3_387" id="line3_387" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Red hand in the foray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How sound is thy slumber!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">390</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Like dew on the mountain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Like the foam on the river,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the bubble on the fountain<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou art gone, and forever!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">See Stumah, who, the bier beside,<a href="#note3_394" name="line3_394" id="line3_394" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">395</span>
+<span class="i0">His master's corpse with wonder eyed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poor Stumah! whom his least halloo<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could send like lightning o'er the dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bristles his crest, and points his ears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if some stranger step he hears.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">400</span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But headlong haste, or deadly fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urge the precipitate career.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All stand aghast&mdash;unheeding all,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">405</span>
+<span class="i0">The henchman bursts into the hall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before the dead man's bier he stood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The muster-place is Lanrick mead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Speed forth the signal! clansmen, speed!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">410</span>
+<span class="i0">Angus, the heir of Duncan's line,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In haste the stripling to his side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His father's dirk and broadsword tied;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">But when he saw his mother's eye<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">415</span>
+<span class="i0">Watch him in speechless agony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Back to her opened arms he flew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pressed on her lips a fond adieu&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Alas!" she sobbed&mdash;"and yet be gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son!"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">420</span>
+<span class="i0">One look he cast upon the bier,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dashed from his eye the gathering tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tossed aloft his bonnet crest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, like the high-bred colt, when, freed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">425</span>
+<span class="i0">First he essays his fire and speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He vanished, and o'er moor and moss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sped forward with the Fiery Cross.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suspended was the widow's tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While yet his footsteps she could hear;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">430</span>
+<span class="i0">And when she marked the henchman's eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wet with unwonted sympathy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Kinsman," she said, "his race is run,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That should have sped thine errand on;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The oak has fallen&mdash;the sapling bough<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">435</span>
+<span class="i0">Is all Duncraggan's shelter now.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet trust I well, his duty done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The orphan's God will guard my son.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And you, in many a danger true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At Duncan's hest your blades that drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">440</span>
+<span class="i0">To arms, and guard that orphan's head!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let babes and women wail the dead."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then weapon-clang and martial call<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resounded through the funeral hall,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">While from the walls the attendant band<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">445</span>
+<span class="i0">Snatched sword and targe, with hurried hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And short and flitting energy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if the sounds to warrior dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might rouse her Duncan from his bier.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">450</span>
+<span class="i0">But faded soon that borrowed force;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grief claimed his right, and tears their course.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Benledi saw the Cross of Fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er dale and hill the summons flew,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">455</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tear that gathered in his eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He left the mountain breeze to dry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until, where Teith's young waters roll<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Betwixt him and a wooded knoll<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">460</span>
+<span class="i0">That graced the sable strath with green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chapel of St. Bride was seen.<a href="#note3_461" name="line3_461" id="line3_461" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Angus paused not on the edge;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though the dark waves danced dizzily,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">465</span>
+<span class="i0">Though reeled his sympathetic eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He dashed amid the torrent's roar.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His right hand high the crosslet bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His left the pole-ax grasped, to guide<a href="#note3_468" name="line3_468" id="line3_468" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stay his footing in the tide.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">470</span>
+<span class="i0">He stumbled twice&mdash;the foam splashed high;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hoarser swell the stream raced by;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And had he fallen&mdash;forever there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But still, as if in parting life,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">475</span>
+<span class="i0">Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until the opposing bank he gained,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And up the chapel pathway strained.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A blithesome rout, that morning tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had sought the chapel of St. Bride.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">480</span>
+<span class="i0">Her troth Tombea's Mary gave<a href="#note3_480" name="line3_480" id="line3_480" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Norman, heir of Armandave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, issuing from the Gothic arch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bridal now resumed their march.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In rude, but glad procession, came<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">485</span>
+<span class="i0">Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And plaided youth, with jest and jeer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which snooden maiden would not hear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And children, that, unwitting why,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">490</span>
+<span class="i0">And minstrels, that in measures vied<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before the young and bonny bride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tear and blush of morning rose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With virgin step, and bashful hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">495</span>
+<span class="i0">She held the kerchief's snowy band;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gallant bridegroom, by her side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beheld his prize with victor's pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the glad mother in her ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was closely whispering word of cheer.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>
+XXI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">500</span>
+<span class="i0">Who meets them at the churchyard gate?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The messenger of fear and fate!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Haste in his hurried accent lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And grief is swimming in his eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All dripping from the recent flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">505</span>
+<span class="i0">Panting and travel-soiled he stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fatal sign of fire and sword<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Held forth, and spoke the appointed word:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The muster-place is Lanrick mead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Speed forth the signal! Norman, speed!"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">510</span>
+<span class="i0">And must he change so soon the hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just linked to his by holy band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the fell Cross of blood and brand?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And must the day, so blithe that rose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And promised rapture in the close,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">515</span>
+<span class="i0">Before its setting hour, divide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bridegroom from the plighted bride?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O fatal doom!&mdash;it must! it must!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her summons dread, brook no delay;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">520</span>
+<span class="i0">Stretch to the race&mdash;away! away!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet slow he laid his plaid aside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until he saw the starting tear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Speak woe he might not stop to cheer;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">525</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, trusting not a second look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In haste he sped him up the brook,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor backward glanced, till on the heath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;What in the racer's bosom stirred?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">530</span>
+<span class="i0">The sickening pang of hope deferred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And memory, with a torturing train<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all his morning visions vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mingled with love's impatience came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The manly thirst for martial fame;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">535</span>
+<span class="i0">The stormy joy of mountaineers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere yet they rush upon the spears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hope, from well-fought field returning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With war's red honors on his crest,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">540</span>
+<span class="i0">To clasp his Mary to his breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like fire from flint he glanced away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While high resolve, and feeling strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burst into voluntary song.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIII<br />
+<br />
+SONG</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">545</span>
+<span class="i0">The heath this night must be my bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bracken curtain for my head,<a href="#note3_546" name="line3_546" id="line3_546" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lullaby the warder's tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Far, far, from love and thee, Mary;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">550</span>
+<span class="i0">My couch may be my bloody plaid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">It will not waken me, Mary!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">I may not, dare not, fancy now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The grief that clouds thy lovely brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">555</span>
+<span class="i0">I dare not think upon thy vow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And all it promised me, Mary.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No fond regret must Norman know;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His heart must be like bended bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">560</span>
+<span class="i3">His foot like arrow free, Mary.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A time will come with feeling fraught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For if I fall in battle fought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy hapless lover's dying thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Shall be a thought on thee, Mary.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">565</span>
+<span class="i0">And if returned from conquered foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How blithely will the evening close,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How sweet the linnet sing repose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To my young bride and me, Mary!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not faster o'er thy heathery braes,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">570</span>
+<span class="i0">Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze,<a href="#note3_570" name="line3_570" id="line3_570" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rushing, in conflagration strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy deep ravines and dells along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And reddening the dark lakes below;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">575</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor faster speeds it, nor so far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As o'er thy heaths the voice of war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The signal roused to martial coil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sullen margin of Loch Voil,<a href="#note3_578" name="line3_578" id="line3_578" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">580</span>
+<span class="i0">Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thence southward turned its rapid road<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till rose in arms each man might claim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A portion in Clan-Alpine's name,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">585</span>
+<span class="i0">From the gray sire, whose trembling hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could hardly buckle on his brand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were yet scarce terror to the crow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each valley, each sequestered glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">590</span>
+<span class="i0">Mustered its little horde of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That met as torrents from the height<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Highland dales their streams unite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still gathering, as they pour along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A voice more loud, a tide more strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">595</span>
+<span class="i0">Till at the rendezvous they stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By hundreds prompt for blows and blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each trained to arms since life began,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Owning no tie but to his clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No oath, but by his chieftain's hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">600</span>
+<span class="i0">No law, but Roderick Dhu's command.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That summer morn had Roderick Dhu<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Surveyed the skirts of Benvenue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To view the frontiers of Menteith.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">605</span>
+<span class="i0">All backward came with news of truce;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">In Rednoch courts no horsemen wait,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No banner waved on Cardross gate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Duchray's towers no beacon shone,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">610</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor scared the herons from Loch Con;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All seemed at peace. Now wot ye why<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Chieftain, with such anxious eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere to the muster he repair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This western frontier scanned with care?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">615</span>
+<span class="i0">In Benvenue's most darksome cleft,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A fair, though cruel, pledge was left;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Douglas, to his promise true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That morning from the isle withdrew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in a deep sequestered dell<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">620</span>
+<span class="i0">Had sought a low and lonely cell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By many a bard, in Celtic tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung;<a href="#note3_622" name="line3_622" id="line3_622" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A softer name the Saxons gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And called the grot the Goblin-cave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">625</span>
+<span class="i0">It was a wild and strange retreat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dell, upon the mountain's crest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its trench had stayed full many a rock,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">630</span>
+<span class="i0">Hurled by primeval earthquake shock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Benvenue's gray summit wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here, in random ruin piled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They frowned incumbent o'er the spot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And formed the rugged silvan grot.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">635</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The oak and birch, with mingled shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At noontide there a twilight made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unless when short and sudden shone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some straggling beam on cliff or stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With such a glimpse as prophet's eye<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">640</span>
+<span class="i0">Gains on thy depth, Futurity.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No murmur waked the solemn still,<a href="#note3_641" name="line3_641" id="line3_641" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save tinkling of a fountain rill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when the wind chafed with the lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sullen sound would upward break,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">645</span>
+<span class="i0">With dashing hollow voice, that spoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The incessant war of wave and rock.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From such a den the wolf had sprung,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">650</span>
+<span class="i0">In such the wild-cat leaves her young;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet Douglas and his daughter fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sought for a space their safety there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gray Superstition's whisper dread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Debarred the spot to vulgar tread;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">655</span>
+<span class="i0">For there, she said, did fays resort,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And satyrs hold their silvan court,<a href="#note3_656" name="line3_656" id="line3_656" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By moonlight tread their mystic maze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And blast the rash beholder's gaze.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now eve, with western shadows long,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">660</span>
+<span class="i0">Floated on Katrine bright and strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Roderick, with a chosen few,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Repassed the heights of Benvenue.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Above the Goblin-cave they go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo:<a href="#note3_664" name="line3_664" id="line3_664" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">665</span>
+<span class="i0">The prompt retainers speed before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To launch the shallop from the shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To view the passes of Achray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And place his clansmen in array.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">670</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet lags the chief in musing mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unwonted sight, his men behind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A single page, to bear his sword,<a href="#note3_672" name="line3_672" id="line3_672" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone attended on his lord;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rest their way through thickets break,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">675</span>
+<span class="i0">And soon await him by the lake.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was a fair and gallant sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To view them from the neighboring height,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the low-leveled sunbeam's light!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For strength and stature, from the clan<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">680</span>
+<span class="i0">Each warrior was a chosen man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As even afar might well be seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By their proud step and martial mien.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their feathers dance, their tartans float,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their targets gleam, as by the boat<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">685</span>
+<span class="i0">A wild and warlike group they stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That well became such mountain-strand.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Their Chief, with step reluctant, still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was lingering on the craggy hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hard by where turned apart the road<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">690</span>
+<span class="i0">To Douglas's obscure abode.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">It was but with that dawning morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To drown his love in war's wild roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor think of Ellen Douglas more;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">695</span>
+<span class="i0">But he who stems a stream with sand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fetters flame with flaxen band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has yet a harder task to prove&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By firm resolve to conquer love!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">700</span>
+<span class="i0">Still hovering near his treasure lost;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For though his haughty heart deny<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A parting meeting to his eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still fondly strains his anxious ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The accents of her voice to hear,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">705</span>
+<span class="i0">And inly did he curse the breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That waked to sound the rustling trees.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But hark! what mingles in the strain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is the harp of Allan-bane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That wakes its measures slow and high,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">710</span>
+<span class="i0">Attuned to sacred minstrelsy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What melting voice attends the strings?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIX<br />
+<br />
+HYMN TO THE VIRGIN</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="italic">Ave Maria!</span> maiden mild!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Listen to a maiden's prayer!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">715</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou canst hear though from the wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thou canst save amid despair.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Safe may we sleep beneath thy care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though banished, outcast, and reviled&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">720</span>
+<span class="i1">Mother, hear a suppliant child!<br /></span>
+<span class="i12"><span class="italic">Ave Maria!</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="italic">Ave Maria!</span> undefiled!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The flinty couch we now must share<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall seem with down of eider piled,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">725</span>
+<span class="i1">If thy protection hover there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The murky cavern's heavy air<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mother, list a suppliant child!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">730</span>
+<span class="i12"><span class="italic">Ave Maria!</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="italic">Ave Maria!</span> stainless styled!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Foul demons of the earth and air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From this their wonted haunt exiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shall flee before thy presence fair.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">735</span>
+<span class="i0">We bow us to our lot of care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beneath thy guidance reconciled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And for a father hear a child!<br /></span>
+<span class="i12"><span class="italic">Ave Maria!</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">740</span>
+<span class="i0">Died on the harp the closing hymn&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unmoved in attitude and limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As listening still, Clan-Alpine's lord<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood leaning on his heavy sword,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Until the page, with humble sign,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">745</span>
+<span class="i0">Twice pointed to the sun's decline.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then while his plaid he round him cast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"It is the last time&mdash;'tis the last,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He muttered thrice, "the last time e'er<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That angel voice shall Roderick hear!"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">750</span>
+<span class="i0">It was a goading thought&mdash;his stride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hied hastier down the mountain side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sullen he flung him in the boat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And instant 'cross the lake it shot.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They landed in that silvery bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">755</span>
+<span class="i0">And eastward held their hasty way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, with the latest beams of light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The band arrived on Lanrick height,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where mustered, in the vale below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clan-Alpine's men in martial show.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">760</span>
+<span class="i0">A various scene the clansmen made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some sat, some stood, some slowly strayed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But most with mantles folded round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were couched to rest upon the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce to be known by curious eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">765</span>
+<span class="i0">From the deep heather where they lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So well was matched the tartan screen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With heath-bell dark and brackens green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unless where, here and there, a blade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or lance's point, a glimmer made,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">770</span>
+<span class="i0">Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">But when, advancing through the gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shook the steep mountain's steady side.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">775</span>
+<span class="i0">Thrice it arose, and lake and fell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Three times returned the martial yell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It died upon Bochastle's plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Silence claimed her evening reign.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>
+CANTO FOURTH<br />
+<br />
+THE PROPHECY</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">5</span>
+<span class="i1">O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Emblem of hope and love through future years!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus spake young Norman, heir of Armandave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">10</span>
+<span class="i0">Such fond conceit, half said, half sung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All while he stripped the wild-rose spray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ax and bow beside him lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">15</span>
+<span class="i0">A wakeful sentinel he stood.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Hark! on the rock a footstep rung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And instant to his arms he sprung.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Stand, or thou diest!&mdash;What, Malise?&mdash;soon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Art thou returned from Braes of Doune.<a href="#note4_19" name="line4_19" id="line4_19" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">20</span>
+<span class="i0">By thy keen step and glance I know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For while the Fiery Cross hied on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On distant scout had Malise gone.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchman said.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">25</span>
+<span class="i0">"Apart, in yonder misty glade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To his lone couch I'll be your guide."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then called a slumberer by his side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stirred him with his slackened bow&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Up, up, Glantarkin! rouse thee, ho!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">30</span>
+<span class="i0">We seek the Chieftain; on the track,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keep eagle watch till I come back."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Together up the pass they sped:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"What of the foeman?" Norman said.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Varying reports from near and far;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">35</span>
+<span class="i0">This certain&mdash;that a band of war<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has for two days been ready boune,<a href="#note4_36" name="line4_36" id="line4_36" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At prompt command, to march from Doune;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">King James, the while, with princely powers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Holds revelry in Stirling towers.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">40</span>
+<span class="i0">Soon will this dark and gathering cloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Speak on our glens in thunder loud.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inured to bide such bitter bout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The warrior's plaid may bear it out;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">But, Norman, how wilt thou provide<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">45</span>
+<span class="i0">A shelter for thy bonny bride?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"What! know ye not that Roderick's care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the lone isle hath caused repair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each maid and matron of the clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every child and aged man<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">50</span>
+<span class="i0">Unfit for arms; and given his charge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon these lakes shall float at large,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all beside the islet moor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That such dear pledge may rest secure?"&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">55</span>
+<span class="i0">"'Tis well advised&mdash;the Chieftain's plan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bespeaks the father of his clan.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Apart from all his followers true?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"It is, because last evening-tide<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">60</span>
+<span class="i0">Brian an augury hath tried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that dread kind which must not be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unless in dread extremity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Taghairm called; by which, afar,<a href="#note4_63" name="line4_63" id="line4_63" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our sires foresaw the events of war.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">65</span>
+<span class="i0">Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>MALISE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ah! Well the gallant brute I knew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The choicest of the prey we had,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When swept our merrymen Gallangad.<a href="#note4_68" name="line4_68" id="line4_68" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hide was snow, his horns were dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">70</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">His red eye glowed like fiery spark;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sore did he cumber our retreat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kept our stoutest kerns in awe,<a href="#note4_73" name="line4_73" id="line4_73" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even at the pass of Beal 'maha.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">75</span>
+<span class="i0">But steep and flinty was the road,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when we came to Dennan's Row,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A child might scatheless stroke his brow."<a href="#note4_78" name="line4_78" id="line4_78" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>V<br />
+<br />
+NORMAN</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"That bull was slain; his reeking hide<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">80</span>
+<span class="i0">They stretched the cataract beside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose waters their wild tumult toss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adown the black and craggy boss<a href="#note4_82" name="line4_82" id="line4_82" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tradition calls the Hero's Targe.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">85</span>
+<span class="i0">Couched on a shelf beneath its brink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Close where the thundering torrents sink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rocking beneath their headlong sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drizzled by the ceaseless spray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">90</span>
+<span class="i0">The wizard waits prophetic dream.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor distant rests the Chief&mdash;but hush!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See, gliding slow through mist and bush,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hermit gains yon rock, and stands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To gaze upon our slumbering bands.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">95</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hovers o'er a slaughtered host?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or raven on the blasted oak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, watching while the deer is broke,<a href="#note4_98" name="line4_98" id="line4_98" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His morsel claims with sullen croak?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>MALISE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">100</span>
+<span class="i0">"Peace! peace! to other than to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy words were evil augury;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">105</span>
+<span class="i0">Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Chieftain joins him, see&mdash;and now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Together they descend the brow."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Hermit Monk held solemn word:<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">110</span>
+<span class="i0">"Roderick! it is a fearful strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For man endowed with mortal life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose shroud of sentient clay can still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Feel feverish pang and fainting chill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose eye can stare in stony trance,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">115</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis hard for such to view, unfurled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The curtain of the future world.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, witness every quaking limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My sunken pulse, my eyeballs dim,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">120</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">My soul with harrowing anguish torn&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This for my Chieftain have I borne!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shapes that sought my fearful couch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A human tongue may ne'er avouch;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No mortal man&mdash;save he, who, bred<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">125</span>
+<span class="i0">Between the living and the dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is gifted beyond nature's law&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had e'er survived to say he saw.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length the fatal answer came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In characters of living flame!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">130</span>
+<span class="i0">Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But borne and branded on my soul:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Which spills the foremost foeman's life,</span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">That party conquers in the strife.</span>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">135</span>
+<span class="i0">Good is thine augury, and fair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But first our broadswords tasted blood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A surer victim still I know,<a name="line4_138" id="line4_138"></a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Self-offered to the auspicious blow:<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">140</span>
+<span class="i0">A spy has sought my land this morn&mdash;<a href="#note4_140" name="line4_140" id="line4_140" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No eve shall witness his return!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My followers guard each pass's mouth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To east, to westward, and to south;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide,<a name="line4_144" id="line4_144"></a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">145</span>
+<span class="i0">Has charge to lead his steps aside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till in deep path or dingle brown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He light on those shall bring him down.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;But see, who comes his news to show!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Malise! what tidings of the foe?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">150</span>
+<span class="i0">"At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive<a href="#note4_150" name="line4_150" id="line4_150" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two Barons proud their banners wave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw the Moray's silver star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And marked the sable pale of Mar."<a href="#note4_153" name="line4_153" id="line4_153" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"By Alpine's soul, high tidings those!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">155</span>
+<span class="i0">I love to hear of worthy foes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When move they on?" "Tomorrow's noon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will see them here for battle boune."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Then shall it see a meeting stern!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, for the place&mdash;say, couldst thou learn<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">160</span>
+<span class="i0">Nought of the friendly clans of Earn?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strengthened by them, we well might bide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The battle on Benledi's side.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou couldst not! Well! Clan-Alpine's men<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall man the Trossachs' shaggy glen;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">165</span>
+<span class="i0">Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All in our maids' and matrons' sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each for his hearth and household fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Father for child, and son for sire&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lover for maid beloved! But why&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">170</span>
+<span class="i0">Is it the breeze affects mine eye?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A messenger of doubt and fear?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No! sooner may the Saxon lance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unfix Benledi from his stance,<a href="#note4_174" name="line4_174" id="line4_174" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">175</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Than doubt or terror can pierce through<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis stubborn as his trusty targe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each to his post&mdash;all know their charge."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pibroch sounds, the bands advance,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">180</span>
+<span class="i0">The broadswords gleam, the banners dance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Obedient to the Chieftain's glance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;I turn me from the martial roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seek Coir-Uriskin once more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where is the Douglas?&mdash;he is gone;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">185</span>
+<span class="i0">And Ellen sits on the gray stone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fast by the cave, and makes her moan;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While vainly Allan's words of cheer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are poured on her unheeding ear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"He will return&mdash;dear lady trust!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">190</span>
+<span class="i0">With joy return&mdash;he will&mdash;he must.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well was it time to seek, afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some refuge from impending war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are cowed by the approaching storm.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">195</span>
+<span class="i0">I saw their boats with many a light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Floating the live-long yesternight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shifting like flashes darted forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the red streamers of the north;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I marked at morn how close they ride,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">200</span>
+<span class="i0">Thick moored by the lone islet's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Like wild-ducks couching in the fen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When stoops the hawk upon the glen.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since this rude race dare not abide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The peril on the mainland side,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">205</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall not thy noble father's care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some safe retreat for thee prepare?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>X<br /><br />
+
+ELLEN</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"No, Allan, no! Pretext so kind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My wakeful terrors could not blind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When in such tender tone, yet grave,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">210</span>
+<span class="i0">Douglas a parting blessing gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tear that glistened in his eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drowned not his purpose fixed and high.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My soul, though feminine and weak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can image his; e'en as the lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">215</span>
+<span class="i0">Itself disturbed by slightest stroke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reflects the invulnerable rock.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He hears the report of battle rife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He deems himself the cause of strife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw him redden, when the theme<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">220</span>
+<span class="i0">Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which I, thou saidst, about him wound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, no! 'twas apprehensive thought<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">225</span>
+<span class="i0">For the kind youth&mdash;for Roderick too&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let me be just&mdash;that friend so true;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">In danger both, and in our cause!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why else that solemn warning given,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">230</span>
+<span class="i0">'If not on earth, we meet in heaven!'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane,<a href="#note4_231" name="line4_231" id="line4_231" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If eve return him not again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Am I to hie, and make me known?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas! he goes to Scotland's throne,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">235</span>
+<span class="i0">Buys his friend's safety with his own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He goes to do&mdash;what I had done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had Douglas' daughter been his son!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Nay, lovely Ellen!&mdash;dearest, nay!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If aught should his return delay,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">240</span>
+<span class="i0">He only named yon holy fane<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As fitting place to meet again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be sure he's safe; and for the Graeme&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaven's blessing on his gallant name!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My visioned sight may yet prove true,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">245</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor bode of ill to him or you.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When did my gifted dream beguile?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think of the stranger at the isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think upon the harpings slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That presaged this approaching woe!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">250</span>
+<span class="i0">Sooth was my prophecy of fear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Believe it when it augurs cheer.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would we had left this dismal spot!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Of such a wondrous tale I know&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">255</span>
+<span class="i0">Dear lady, change that look of woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My harp was wont thy grief to cheer."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h3>ELLEN</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Well, be it as thou wilt; I hear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But cannot stop the bursting tear."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The minstrel tried his simple art,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">260</span>
+<span class="i0">But distant far was Ellen's heart.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XII<br />
+<br />
+BALLAD&mdash;ALICE BRAND</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Merry it is in the good greenwood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the mavis and merle are singing,<a href="#note4_262" name="line4_262" id="line4_262" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the hunter's horn is ringing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">265</span>
+<span class="i0">"O Alice Brand, my native land<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is lost for love of you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we must hold by wood and wold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As outlaws wont to do.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">270</span>
+<span class="i1">And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That on the night of our luckless flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Thy brother bold I slew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">"Now must I teach to hew the beech<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The hand that held the glaive,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">275</span>
+<span class="i0">For leaves to spread our lowly bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And stakes to fence our cave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And for vest of pall, thy fingers small,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That wont on harp to stray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">280</span>
+<span class="i1">To keep the cold away."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O Richard! if my brother died,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Twas but a fatal chance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For darkling was the battle tried,<a href="#note4_283" name="line4_283" id="line4_283" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And fortune sped the lance.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">285</span>
+<span class="i0">"If pall and vair no more I wear,<a href="#note4_285" name="line4_285" id="line4_285" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor thou the crimson sheen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As gay the forest-green.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And, Richard, if our lot be hard,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">290</span>
+<span class="i1">And lost thy native land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still Alice has her own Richard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he his Alice Brand."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIII<br />
+<br />
+BALLAD&mdash;(<span class="italic">Continued</span>)</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So blithe Lady Alice is singing;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">295</span>
+<span class="i0">On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lord Richard's ax is ringing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Up spoke the moody Elfin King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who wonned within the hill,<a href="#note4_298" name="line4_298" id="line4_298" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">300</span>
+<span class="i2">His voice was ghostly shrill.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Our moonlight circle's screen?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or who comes here to chase the deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Beloved of our Elfin Queen?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">305</span>
+<span class="i0">Or who may dare on wold to wear<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The fairies' fatal green?<a href="#note4_306" name="line4_306" id="line4_306" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For thou wert christened man;<a href="#note4_308" name="line4_308" id="line4_308" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">310</span>
+<span class="i1">For muttered word or ban.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The curse of the sleepless eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till he wish and pray that his life would part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Nor yet find leave to die."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIV<br />
+<br />
+BALLAD&mdash;(<span class="italic">Continued</span>)</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">315</span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though the birds have stilled their singing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The evening blaze doth Alice raise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And Richard is fagots bringing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">320</span>
+<span class="i1">Before Lord Richard stands,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And, as he crossed and blessed himself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">"That is made with bloody hands."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">325</span>
+<span class="i1">That woman void of fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And if there's blood upon his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis but the blood of deer."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It cleaves unto his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">330</span>
+<span class="i0">The stain of thine own kindly blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The blood of Ethert Brand."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And made the holy sign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And if there's blood on Richard's hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">335</span>
+<span class="i1">A spotless hand is mine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And I conjure thee, Demon elf,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">By Him whom Demons fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To show us whence thou art thyself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And what thine errand here?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XV<br />
+<br />
+BALLAD&mdash;(<span class="italic">Continued</span>)</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">340</span>
+<span class="i0">"'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairyland<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When fairy birds are singing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the court doth ride by their monarch's side<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">With bit and bridle ringing;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And gaily shines the Fairyland&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">345</span>
+<span class="i1">But all is glistening show,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the idle gleam that December's beam<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Can dart on ice and snow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And fading, like that varied gleam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is our inconstant shape,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">350</span>
+<span class="i0">Who now like knight and lady seem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And now like dwarf and ape.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It was between the night and day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the Fairy King has power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I sunk down in a sinful fray,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">355</span>
+<span class="i0">And, 'twixt life and death, was snatched away<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the joyless Elfin bower.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But wist I of a woman bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who thrice my brow durst sign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I might regain my mortal mold,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">360</span>
+<span class="i1">As fair a form as thine."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She crossed him once&mdash;she crossed him twice&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That lady was so brave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fouler grew his goblin hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The darker grew the cave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">365</span>
+<span class="i0">She crossed him thrice, that lady bold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He rose beneath her hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fairest knight on Scottish mold,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">Her brother, Ethert Brand!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Merry it is in good greenwood,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">370</span>
+<span class="i1">When the mavis and merle are singing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray,<a href="#note4_371" name="line4_371" id="line4_371" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When all the bells were ringing.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A stranger climbed the steepy glade;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">375</span>
+<span class="i0">His martial step, his stately mien,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hunting suit of Lincoln green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His eagle glance, remembrance claims&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz-James.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ellen beheld as in a dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">380</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Oh, stranger! in such hour of fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What evil hap has brought thee here?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"An evil hap how can it be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That bids me look again on thee?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">385</span>
+<span class="i0">By promise bound, my former guide<a href="#note4_385" name="line4_385" id="line4_385" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Met me betimes this morning tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And marshaled, over bank and bourne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The happy path of my return."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The happy path!&mdash;what! said he nought<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">390</span>
+<span class="i0">Of war, of battle to be fought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of guarded pass?" "No, by my faith!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor saw I ought could augur scathe."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O haste thee, Allan, to the kern,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Yonder his tartans I discern;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">395</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Learn thou his purpose, and conjure<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he will guide the stranger sure!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What prompted thee, unhappy man?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The meanest serf in Roderick's clan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had not been bribed by love or fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">400</span>
+<span class="i0">Unknown to him to guide thee here."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since it is worthy care from thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet life I hold but idle breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When love or honor's weighed with death.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">405</span>
+<span class="i0">Then let me profit by my chance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And speak my purpose bold at once.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I come to bear thee from a wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where ne'er before such blossom smiled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By this soft hand to lead thee far<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">410</span>
+<span class="i0">From frantic scenes of feud and war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Near Bochastle my horses wait;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They bear us soon to Stirling gate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll place thee in a lovely bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll guard thee like a tender flower"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">415</span>
+<span class="i0">"O hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To say I do not read thy heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Too much, before, my selfish ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was idly soothed my praise to hear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fatal bait hath lured thee back,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">420</span>
+<span class="i0">In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And how, O how, can I atone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wreck my vanity brought on!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One way remains&mdash;I'll tell him all&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">425</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou, whose light folly bears the blame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Buy thine own pardon with thy shame!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But first&mdash;my father is a man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Outlawed and exiled, under ban;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The price of blood is on his head,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">430</span>
+<span class="i0">With me 'twere infamy to wed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still wouldst thou speak?&mdash;then hear the truth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fitz-James, there is a noble youth&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If yet he is!&mdash;exposed for me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mine to dread extremity&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">435</span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast the secret of my heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forgive, be generous, and depart!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fitz-James knew every wily train<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lady's fickle heart to gain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here he knew and felt them vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">440</span>
+<span class="i0">There shot no glance from Ellen's eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To give her steadfast speech the lie;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In maiden confidence she stood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though mantled in her cheek the blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And told her love with such a sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">445</span>
+<span class="i0">Of deep and hopeless agony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she sat sorrowing on his tomb.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But not with hope fled sympathy.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">450</span>
+<span class="i0">He proffered to attend her side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As brother would a sister guide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O little know'st thou Roderick's heart!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Safer for both we go apart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O haste thee, and from Allan learn,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">455</span>
+<span class="i0">If thou may'st trust yon wily kern."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hand upon his forehead laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The conflict of his mind to shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A parting step or two he made;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, as some thought had crossed his brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">460</span>
+<span class="i0">He paused, and turned, and came again.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Hear, lady, yet, a parting word!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It chanced in fight that my poor sword<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Preserved the life of Scotland's lord.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This ring the grateful Monarch gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">465</span>
+<span class="i0">And bade, when I had boon to crave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bring it back, and boldly claim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The recompense that I would name.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ellen, I am no courtly lord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But one who lives by lance and sword,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">470</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose castle is his helm and shield,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His lordship the embattled field.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What from a prince can I demand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who neither reck of state nor land?<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Ellen, thy hand&mdash;the ring is thine;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">475</span>
+<span class="i0">Each guard and usher knows the sign.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seek thou the king without delay&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This signet shall secure thy way&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And claim thy suit, whate'er it be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As ransom of his pledge to me."<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">480</span>
+<span class="i0">He placed the golden circlet on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Paused&mdash;kissed her hand&mdash;and then was gone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The aged Minstrel stood aghast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So hastily Fitz-James shot past.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He joined his guide, and wending down<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">485</span>
+<span class="i0">The ridges of the mountain brown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Across the stream they took their way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That joins Loch Katrine to Achray.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All in the Trossachs' glen was still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Noontide was sleeping on the hill:<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">490</span>
+<span class="i0">Sudden his guide whooped loud and high&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Murdoch! was that a signal cry?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He stammered forth&mdash;"I shout to scare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yon raven from his dainty fare."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He looked&mdash;he knew the raven's prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">495</span>
+<span class="i0">His own brave steed&mdash;"Ah! gallant gray!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thee&mdash;for me, perchance&mdash;'twere well<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We ne'er had seen the Trossachs' dell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Murdoch, move first&mdash;but silently;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">500</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Jealous and sullen on they fared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each silent, each upon his guard.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now wound the path its dizzy ledge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Around a precipice's edge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When lo! a wasted female form,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">505</span>
+<span class="i0">Blighted by wrath of sun and storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In tattered weeds and wild array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood on a cliff beside the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glancing round her restless eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">510</span>
+<span class="i0">Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With gesture wild she waved a plume<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of feathers which the eagles fling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To crag and cliff from dusky wing;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">515</span>
+<span class="i0">Such spoils her desperate step had sought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where scarce was footing for the goat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tartan plaid she first descried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shrieked till all the rocks replied;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As loud she laughed when near they drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">520</span>
+<span class="i0">For then the Lowland garb she knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then her hands she wildly wrung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then she wept, and then she sung&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She sung!&mdash;the voice, in better time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perchance to harp or lute might chime;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">525</span>
+<span class="i0">And now, though strained and roughened, still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>
+XXII<br />
+<br />
+SONG</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They bid me sleep, they bid me pray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They say my brain is warped and wrung&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I cannot sleep on Highland brae,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">530</span>
+<span class="i1">I cannot pray in Highland tongue.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But were I now where Allan glides,<a href="#note4_531" name="line4_531" id="line4_531" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or heard my native Devan's tides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So sweetly would I rest, and pray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Heaven would close my wintry day!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">535</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They made me to the church repair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was my bridal morn they said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And my true love would meet me there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But woe betide the cruel guile<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">540</span>
+<span class="i0">That drowned in blood the morning smile!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And woe betide the fairy dream!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I only waked to sob and scream.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Who is this maid? what means her lay?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She hovers o'er the hollow way,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">545</span>
+<span class="i0">And flutters wide her mantle gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the lone heron spreads his wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By twilight, o'er a haunted spring."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"'Tis Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"A crazed and captive Lowland maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">550</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Ta'en on the morn she was a bride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Roderick forayed Devan side.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gay bridegroom resistance made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And felt our Chief's unconquered blade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I marvel she is now at large,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">555</span>
+<span class="i0">But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge.<a href="#note4_555" name="line4_555" id="line4_555" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hence, brain-sick fool!"&mdash;he raised his bow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As ever peasant pitched a bar!"&mdash;<a href="#note4_559" name="line4_559" id="line4_559" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">560</span>
+<span class="i0">"Thanks, champion, thanks!" the maniac cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pressed her to Fitz-James's side.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"See the gray pennons I prepare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To seek my true-love through the air!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will not lend that savage groom,<a href="#note4_564" name="line4_564" id="line4_564" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">565</span>
+<span class="i0">To break his fall, one downy plume!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No! Deep amid disjointed stones,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wolves shall batten on his bones,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then shall his detested plaid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By bush and brier in mid air stayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">570</span>
+<span class="i0">Wave forth a banner fair and free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meet signal for their revelry."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Oh! thou look'st kindly and I will.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mine eye has dried and wasted been,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">575</span>
+<span class="i0">But still it loves the Lincoln green;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, though mine ear is all unstrung,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For O my sweet William was forester true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He stole poor Blanche's heart away!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">580</span>
+<span class="i0">His coat it was all of the greenwood hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It was not that I meant to tell....<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thou art wise and guessest well."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, in a low and broken tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">585</span>
+<span class="i0">And hurried note, the song went on.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still on the Clansman, fearfully,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She fixed her apprehensive eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then turned it on the Knight, and then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">590</span>
+<span class="i0">"The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ever sing merrily, merrily;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bows they bend, and the knives they whet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Hunters live so cheerily.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It was a stag, a stag of ten,<a href="#note4_594" name="line4_594" id="line4_594" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">595</span>
+<span class="i1">Bearing its branches sturdily;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He came stately down the glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ever sing hardily, hardily.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It was there he met with a wounded doe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">She was bleeding deathfully;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">600</span>
+<span class="i0">She warned him of the toils below,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">Oh, so faithfully, faithfully!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"He had an eye, and he could heed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ever sing warily, warily;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He had a foot, and he could speed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">605</span>
+<span class="i1">Hunters watch so narrowly."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Ellen's hints and fears were lost;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Blanche's song conviction brought.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">610</span>
+<span class="i0">Not like a stag that spies the snare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lion of the hunt aware,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He waved at once his blade on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Disclose thy treachery, or die!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth at full speed the Clansman flew,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">615</span>
+<span class="i0">But in his race his bow he drew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For ne'er had Alpine's son such need!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">620</span>
+<span class="i0">With heart of fire, and foot of wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fierce avenger is behind!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fate judges of the rapid strife&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The forfeit death&mdash;the prize is life!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy kindred ambush lies before,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">625</span>
+<span class="i0">Close couched upon the heathery moor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them couldst thou reach!&mdash;it may not be&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fiery Saxon gains on thee!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Resistless speeds the deadly thrust,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">630</span>
+<span class="i0">As lightning strikes the pine to dust;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere he can win his blade again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bent o'er the fallen, with falcon eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He grimly smiled to see him die;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">635</span>
+<span class="i0">Then slower wended back his way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She sat beneath a birchen-tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her elbow resting on her knee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She had withdrawn the fatal shaft,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">640</span>
+<span class="i0">And gazed on it, and feebly laughed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her wreath of broom and feathers gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Daggled with blood, beside her lay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Knight to staunch the life-stream tried&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Stranger, it is in vain!" she cried.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">645</span>
+<span class="i0">"This hour of death has given me more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of reason's power than years before;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, as these ebbing veins decay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My frenzied visions fade away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A helpless injured wretch I die,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">650</span>
+<span class="i0">And something tells me in thine eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thou wert mine avenger born.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seest thou this tress?&mdash;Oh! still I've worn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This little tress of yellow hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through danger, frenzy, and despair!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">655</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">It once was bright and clear as thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But blood and tears have dimmed its shine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will not tell thee when 'twas shred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor from what guiltless victim's head&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My brain would turn!&mdash;but it shall wave<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">660</span>
+<span class="i0">Like plumage on thy helmet brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou wilt bring it me again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I waver still&mdash;O God! more bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let reason beam her parting light!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">665</span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! by thy knighthood's honored sign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for thy life preserved by mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When thou shalt see a darksome man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With tartans broad and shadowy plume<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">670</span>
+<span class="i0">And hand of blood, and brow of gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They watch for thee by pass and fell....<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Avoid the path.... O God!... farewell."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">675</span>
+<span class="i0">A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now, with mingled grief and ire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He saw the murdered maid expire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"God, in my need, be my relief,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">680</span>
+<span class="i0">As I wreak this on yonder Chief!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lock from Blanche's tresses fair<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">He blended with her bridegroom's hair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mingled braid in blood he dyed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And placed it on his bonnet-side:<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">685</span>
+<span class="i0">"By Him whose word is truth! I swear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No other favor will I wear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till this sad token I imbrue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the best blood of Roderick Dhu!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;But hark! what means yon faint halloo?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">690</span>
+<span class="i0">The chase is up&mdash;but they shall know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The stag at bay's a dangerous foe."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Barred from the known but guarded way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oft must change his desperate track,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">695</span>
+<span class="i0">By stream and precipice turned back.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From lack of food and loss of strength,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He couched him in a thicket hoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thought his toils and perils o'er:<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">700</span>
+<span class="i0">"Of all my rash adventures past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This frantic feat must prove the last!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who e'er so mad but might have guessed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That all this Highland hornet's nest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would muster up in swarms so soon<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">705</span>
+<span class="i0">As e'er they heard of bands at Doune?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like bloodhounds now they search me out&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hark, to the whistle and the shout!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If further through the wilds I go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I only fall upon the foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">710</span>
+<span class="i0">I'll couch me here till evening gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then darkling try my dangerous way."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>
+XXIX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The shades of eve come slowly down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The woods are wrapped in deeper brown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The owl awakens from her dell,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">715</span>
+<span class="i0">The fox is heard upon the fell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enough remains of glimmering light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To guide the wanderer's steps aright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet not enough from far to show<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His figure to the watchful foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">720</span>
+<span class="i0">With cautious step, and ear awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He climbs the crag and threads the brake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not the summer solstice, there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tempered the midnight mountain air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But every breeze, that swept the wold,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">725</span>
+<span class="i0">Benumbed his drenchéd limbs with cold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In dread, in danger, and alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Famished and chilled, through ways unknown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tangled and steep, he journeyed on;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, as a rock's huge point he turned,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">730</span>
+<span class="i0">A watch-fire close before him burned.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Beside its embers red and clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And up he sprung with sword in hand&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">735</span>
+<span class="i0">"A stranger." "What dost thou require?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Rest and a guide, and food and fire.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">My life's beset, my path is lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gale has chilled my limbs with frost."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Art thou a friend to Roderick?" "No."<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">740</span>
+<span class="i0">"Thou darest not call thyself a foe?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I dare! to him and all the band<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He brings to aid his murderous hand."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Bold words!&mdash;but, though the beast of game<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The privilege of chase may claim,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">745</span>
+<span class="i0">Though space and law the stag we lend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who ever recked, where, how, or when,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The prowling fox was trapped or slain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus treacherous scouts&mdash;yet sure they lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">750</span>
+<span class="i0">Who say thou camest a secret spy!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"They do, by heaven!&mdash;Come Roderick Dhu,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of his clan the boldest two,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let me but till morning rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I write the falsehood on their crest."<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">755</span>
+<span class="i0">"If by the blaze I mark aright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Then by these tokens may'st thou know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each proud oppressor's mortal foe."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Enough, enough; sit down and share<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">760</span>
+<span class="i0">A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He gave him of his Highland cheer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hardened flesh of mountain deer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dry fuel on the fire he laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bade the Saxon share his plaid.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">765</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">He tended him like welcome guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then thus his further speech addressed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A clansman born, a kinsman true;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each word against his honor spoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">770</span>
+<span class="i0">Demands of me avenging stroke;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet more&mdash;upon thy fate, 'tis said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mighty augury is laid.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It rests with me to wind my horn&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art with numbers overborne;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">775</span>
+<span class="i0">It rests with me, here, brand to brand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will I depart from honor's laws;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To assail a wearied man were shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">780</span>
+<span class="i0">And stranger is a holy name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Guidance and rest, food and fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In vain he never must require.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then rest thee here till dawn of day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Myself will guide thee on the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">785</span>
+<span class="i0">O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As far as Coilantogle's ford;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From thence thy warrant is thy sword."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I take thy courtesy, by heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">790</span>
+<span class="i0">As freely as 'tis nobly given!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sings us the lake's wild lullaby."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With that he shook the gathered heath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spread his plaid upon the wreath;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">795</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And the brave foemen, side by side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay peaceful down like brothers tried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And slept until the dawning beam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Purpled the mountain and the stream.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>
+CANTO FIFTH<br />
+<br />
+THE COMBAT</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It smiles upon the dreary brow of night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">5</span>
+<span class="i0">And lights the fearful path on mountain side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Fair as that beam, although the fairest far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Giving to horror grace, to danger pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>II</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">10</span>
+<span class="i0">That early beam, so fair and sheen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was twinkling through the hazel screen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When rousing at its glimmer red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The warriors left their lowly bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looked out upon the dappled sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">15</span>
+<span class="i0">Muttered their soldier matins by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then awaked their fire, to steal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As short and rude, their soldier meal.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">That o'er, the Gael around him threw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His graceful plaid of varied hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">20</span>
+<span class="i0">And, true to promise, led the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By thicket green and mountain gray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A wildering path&mdash;they winded now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along the precipice's brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Commanding the rich scenes beneath,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">25</span>
+<span class="i0">The windings of the Forth and Teith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the vales between that lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gained not the length of horseman's lance.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">30</span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Assistance from the hand to gain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So tangled oft, that, bursting through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That diamond dew, so pure and clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">35</span>
+<span class="i0">It rivals all but Beauty's tear!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At length they came where, stern and steep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hill sinks down upon the deep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here Vennachar in silver flows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">40</span>
+<span class="i0">Ever the hollow path twined on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath steep bank and threatening stone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An hundred men might hold the post<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hardihood against a host.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The rugged mountain's scanty cloak<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">45</span>
+<span class="i0">Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With shingles bare, and cliffs between,<a href="#note5_46" name="line5_46" id="line5_46" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And patches bright of bracken green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heather black, that waved so high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It held the copse in rivalry.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">50</span>
+<span class="i0">But where the lake slept deep and still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oft both path and hill were torn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where wintry torrents down had borne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heaped upon the cumbered land<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">55</span>
+<span class="i0">Its wreck of gravel, rocks and sand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So toilsome was the road to trace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The guide, abating of his pace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Led slowly through the pass's jaws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And asked Fitz-James, by what strange cause<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">60</span>
+<span class="i0">He sought these wilds, traversed by few,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hangs in my belt, and by my side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">65</span>
+<span class="i0">"I dreamt not now to claim its aid.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When here, but three days since, I came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bewildered in pursuit of game,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All seemed as peaceful and as still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the mist slumbering on yon hill;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">70</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy dangerous Chief was then afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor soon expected back from war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though deep perchance the villian lied."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Yet why a second venture try?"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">75</span>
+<span class="i0">"A warrior thou, and ask me why!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moves our free course by such fixed cause<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As gives the poor mechanic laws?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enough, I sought to drive away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lazy hours of peaceful day;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">80</span>
+<span class="i0">Slight cause will then suffice to guide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Knight's free footsteps far and wide&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The merry glance of mountain maid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, if a path be dangerous known,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">85</span>
+<span class="i0">The danger's self is lure alone."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>V</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thy secret keep, I urge thee not;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, ere again ye sought this spot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say, heard ye nought of Lowland war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar?"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">90</span>
+<span class="i0">"No, by my word&mdash;of bands prepared<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To guard King James's sports I heard;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This muster of the mountaineer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their pennons will abroad be flung,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">95</span>
+<span class="i0">Which else in Doune had peaceful hung."<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">"Free be they flung!&mdash;for we were loath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their silken folds should feast the moth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Free be they flung!&mdash;as free shall wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">100</span>
+<span class="i0">But, Stranger, peaceful since you came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bewildered in the mountain game,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whence the bold boast by which you show<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">105</span>
+<span class="i0">Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save as an outlawed desperate man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chief of a rebellious clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, in the Regent's court and sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">110</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet this alone might from his part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sever each true and loyal heart."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wrathful at such arraignment foul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A space he paused, then sternly said,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">115</span>
+<span class="i0">"And heard'st thou why he drew his blade?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What recked the Chieftain if he stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Highland heath, or Holy-Rood?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">120</span>
+<span class="i0">He rights such wrong where it is given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If it were in the court of heaven."<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">"Still was it outrage&mdash;yet, 'tis true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not then claimed sovereignty his due;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Albany, with feeble hand,<a href="#note5_124" name="line5_124" id="line5_124" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">125</span>
+<span class="i0">Held borrowed truncheon of command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The young King, mewed in Stirling tower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was stranger to respect and power.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But then, thy Chieftain's robber life!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Winning mean prey by causeless strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">130</span>
+<span class="i0">Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His herds and harvest reared in vain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Methinks a soul, like thine, should scorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spoils from such foul foray borne."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Gael beheld him grim the while,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">135</span>
+<span class="i0">And answered with disdainful smile&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Saxon, from yonder mountain high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I marked thee send delighted eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far to the south and east, where lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Extended in succession gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">140</span>
+<span class="i0">Deep waving fields and pastures green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With gentle slopes and groves between;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These fertile plains, that softened vale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were once the birthright of the Gael;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The stranger came with iron hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">145</span>
+<span class="i0">And from our fathers reft the land.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where dwell we now! See, rudely swell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Ask we this savage hill we tread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For fattened steer or household bread;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">150</span>
+<span class="i0">Ask we for flocks these shingles dry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And well the mountain might reply,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'To you, as to your sires of yore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Belong the target and claymore!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I give you shelter in my breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">155</span>
+<span class="i0">Your own good blades must win the rest.'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pent in this fortress of the North,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think'st thou we will not sally forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To spoil the spoiler as we may,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the robber rend the prey?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">160</span>
+<span class="i0">Aye, by my soul! While on yon plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Saxon rears one shock of grain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While, of ten thousand herds, there strays<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But one along yon river's maze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Gael, of plain and river heir,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">165</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That plundering Lowland field and fold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is aught but retribution true?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">170</span>
+<span class="i0">Answered Fitz-James, "And if I sought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think'st thou no other could be brought?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What deem ye of my path waylaid?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My life given o'er to ambuscade?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"As of a meed to rashness due:<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">175</span>
+<span class="i0">Hadst thou sent warning fair and true&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">I seek my hound, or falcon strayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I seek, good faith, a Highland maid&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Free hadst thou been to come and go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But secret path marks secret foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">180</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor yet, for this, even as a spy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save to fulfill an augury."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Well, let it pass; nor will I now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fresh cause of enmity avow,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">185</span>
+<span class="i0">To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enough, I am by promise tied<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To match me with this man of pride:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In peace; but when I come again,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">190</span>
+<span class="i0">I come with banner, brand, and bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As leader seeks his mortal foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ne'er panted for the appointed hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As I, until before me stand<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">195</span>
+<span class="i0">This rebel Chieftain and his band!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Have, then, thy wish!" He whistled shrill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he was answered from the hill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wild as the scream of the curlew,<a href="#note5_198" name="line5_198" id="line5_198" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From crag to crag the signal flew.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">200</span>
+<span class="i0">Instant, through copse and heath, arose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bonnets and spears and bended bows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On right, on left, above, below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sprung up at once the lurking foe;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">From shingles gray their lances start,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">205</span>
+<span class="i0">The bracken bush sends forth the dart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rushes and the willow-wand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are bristling into ax and brand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every tuft of broom gives life<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To plaided warrior armed for strife.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">210</span>
+<span class="i0">That whistle garrisoned the glen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At once with full five hundred men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if the yawning hill to heaven<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A subterranean host had given.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Watching their leader's beck and will,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">215</span>
+<span class="i0">All silent there they stood, and still.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the loose crags whose threatening mass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if an infant's touch could urge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their headlong passage down the verge,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">220</span>
+<span class="i0">With step and weapon forward flung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the mountain-side they hung.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Mountaineer cast glance of pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along Benledi's living side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then fixed his eye and sable brow<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">225</span>
+<span class="i0">Full on Fitz-James&mdash;"How say'st thou now?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, Saxon&mdash;I am Roderick Dhu!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>X</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fitz-James was brave. Though to his heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The life-blood thrilled with sudden start,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">230</span>
+<span class="i0">He manned himself with dauntless air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Returned the Chief his haughty stare,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">His back against a rock he bore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And firmly placed his foot before:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Come one, come all! this rock shall fly<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">235</span>
+<span class="i0">From its firm base as soon as I."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sir Roderick marked&mdash;and in his eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Respect was mingled with surprise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the stern joy which warriors feel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In foemen worthy of their steel.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">240</span>
+<span class="i0">Short space he stood&mdash;then waved his hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down sunk the disappearing band;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each warrior vanished where he stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In broom or bracken, heath or wood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sunk brand and spear and bended bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">245</span>
+<span class="i0">In osiers pale and copses low;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It seemed as if their mother Earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had swallowed up her warlike birth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wind's last breath had tossed in air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">250</span>
+<span class="i0">The next but swept a lone hill-side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where heath and fern were waving wide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun's last glance was glinted back,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,<a href="#note5_253" name="line5_253" id="line5_253" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The next, all unreflected, shone<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">255</span>
+<span class="i0">On bracken green, and cold gray stone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fitz-James looked round&mdash;yet scarce believed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The witness that his sight received;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such apparition well might seem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Delusion of a dreadful dream.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">260</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to his look the Chief replied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Fear naught&mdash;nay, that I need not say&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But&mdash;doubt not aught from mine array.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art my guest&mdash;I pledged my word<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">265</span>
+<span class="i0">As far as Coilantogle ford;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor would I call a clansman's brand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For aid against one valiant hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though on our strife lay every vale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rent by the Saxon from the Gael.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">270</span>
+<span class="i0">So move we on&mdash;I only meant<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To show the reed on which you leant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deeming this path you might pursue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without a pass from Roderick Dhu."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They moved&mdash;I said Fitz-James was brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">275</span>
+<span class="i0">As ever knight that belted glaive;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet dare not say, that now his blood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kept on its wont and tempered flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As, following Roderick's stride, he drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That seeming lonesome pathway through,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">280</span>
+<span class="i0">Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lances, that, to take his life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waited but signal from a guide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So late dishonored and defied.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">285</span>
+<span class="i0">The vanished guardians of the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still, from copse and heather deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the plover's shrilly strain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The signal whistle heard again.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">290</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor breathed he free till far behind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pass was left; for then they wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along a wide and level green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where neither tree nor tuft was seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor rush nor bush of broom was near,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">295</span>
+<span class="i0">To hide a bonnet or a spear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Chief in silence strode before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And reached that torrent's sounding shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, daughter of three mighty lakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Vennachar in silver breaks,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">300</span>
+<span class="i0">Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Bochastle the moldering lines,<a href="#note5_301" name="line5_301" id="line5_301" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Rome, the Empress of the world,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of yore her eagle wings unfurled.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here his course the Chieftain stayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">305</span>
+<span class="i0">Threw down his target and his plaid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to the Lowland warrior said&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Bold Saxon! to his promise just,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This murderous Chief, this ruthless man,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">310</span>
+<span class="i0">This head of a rebellious clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, man to man, and steel to steel.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">315</span>
+<span class="i0">See, here, all vantageless I stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Armed, like thyself, with single brand;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">For this is Coilantogle ford,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou must keep thee with thy sword."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Saxon paused: "I ne'er delayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">320</span>
+<span class="i0">When foeman bade me draw my blade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet sure thy fair and generous faith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my deep debt for life preserved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A better meed have well deserved.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">325</span>
+<span class="i0">Can naught but blood our feud atone?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are there no means?" "No, Stranger, none!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hear&mdash;to fire thy flagging zeal&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Saxon cause rests on thy steel;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">330</span>
+<span class="i0">Between the living and the dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Who spills the foremost foeman's life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His party conquers in the strife.'"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Then, by my word," the Saxon said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The riddle is already read.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">335</span>
+<span class="i0">Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then yield to Fate, and not to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To James, at Stirling, let us go,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">340</span>
+<span class="i0">When, if thou wilt be still his foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or if the King shall not agree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To grant thee grace and favor free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I plight mine honor, oath, and word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, to thy native strengths restored,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">345</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">With each advantage shalt thou stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That aids thee now to guard thy land."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Soars thy presumption, then, so high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because a wretched kern ye slew,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">350</span>
+<span class="i0">Homage to name to Roderick Dhu?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He yields not, he, to man nor Fate!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou add'st but fuel to my hate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My clansman's blood demands revenge.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not yet prepared?&mdash;By heaven, I change<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">355</span>
+<span class="i0">My thought, and hold thy valor light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As that of some vain carpet knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who ill deserved my courteous care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whose best boast is but to wear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A braid of his fair lady's hair."<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">360</span>
+<span class="i0">"I thank thee, Roderick, for the word!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It nerves my heart, it steels my sword;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I have sworn this braid to stain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the best blood that warms thy vein.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, truce, farewell! and ruth, begone!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">365</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet think not that by thee alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Start at my whistle clansmen stern,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of this small horn one feeble blast<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">370</span>
+<span class="i0">Would fearful odds against thee cast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But fear not&mdash;doubt not&mdash;which thou wilt&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We try this quarrel hilt to hilt."<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Then each at once his falchion drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each on the ground his scabbard threw,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">375</span>
+<span class="i0">Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As what they ne'er might see again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then foot, and point, and eye opposed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In dubious strife they darkly closed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">380</span>
+<span class="i0">That on the field his targe he threw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had death so often dashed aside;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, trained abroad his arms to wield,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">385</span>
+<span class="i0">He practiced every pass and ward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While less expert, though stronger far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Gael maintained unequal war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Three times in closing strife they stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">390</span>
+<span class="i0">And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No stinted draft, no scanty tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gushing flood the tartans dyed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And showered his blows like wintry rain;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">395</span>
+<span class="i0">And, as firm rock, or castle-roof,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the winter shower is proof,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The foe, invulnerable still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Foiled his wild rage by steady skill;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">400</span>
+<span class="i0">Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And backward borne upon the lea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now, yield thee, or by Him who made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">405</span>
+<span class="i0">"Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let recreant yield, who fears to die."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Like adder darting from his coil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like wolf that dashes through the toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like mountain-cat who guards her young,<a href="#note5_409" name="line5_409" id="line5_409" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">410</span>
+<span class="i0">Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Received, but recked not of a wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And locked his arms his foeman round.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No maiden's hand is round thee thrown!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">415</span>
+<span class="i0">That desperate grasp thy frame might feel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through bars of brass and triple steel!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They tug, they strain! down, down they go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Gael above, Fitz-James below.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">420</span>
+<span class="i0">His knee was planted in his breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His clotted locks he backward threw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Across his brow his hand he drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From blood and mist to clear his sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">425</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">But hate and fury ill supplied<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The stream of life's exhausted tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all too late the advantage came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To turn the odds of deadly game;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, while the dagger gleamed on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">430</span>
+<span class="i0">Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down came the blow! but in the heath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The erring blade found bloodless sheath.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The struggling foe may now unclasp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">435</span>
+<span class="i0">Unwounded from the dreadful close,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He faltered thanks to Heaven for life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Next on his foe his look he cast,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">440</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose every gasp appeared his last;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet with thy foe must die, or live,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The praise that faith and valor give."<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">445</span>
+<span class="i0">With that he blew a bugle-note,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Undid the collar from his throat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unbonneted, and by the wave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sat down his brow and hands to lave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then faint afar are heard the feet<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">450</span>
+<span class="i0">Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sounds increase, and now are seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Four mounted squires in Lincoln green;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Two who bear lance, and two who lead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By loosened rein, a saddled steed;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">455</span>
+<span class="i0">Each onward held his headlong course,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by Fitz-James reined up his horse&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With wonder viewed the bloody spot&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Exclaim not, gallants! question not.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You, Herbert and Luffness, alight,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">460</span>
+<span class="i0">And bind the wounds of yonder knight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let the gray palfrey bear his weight,<a href="#note5_461" name="line5_461" id="line5_461" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We destined for a fairer freight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bring him on to Stirling straight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will before at better speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">465</span>
+<span class="i0">To seek fresh horse and fitting weed.<a href="#note5_465" name="line5_465" id="line5_465" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun rides high&mdash;I must be boune,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see the archer-game at noon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lightly Bayard clears the lea&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">De Vaux and Herries, follow me.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">470</span>
+<span class="i0">"Stand, Bayard, stand!" The steed obeyed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With arching neck and bended head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glancing eye and quivering ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if he loved his lord to hear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No foot Fitz-James in stirrup stayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">475</span>
+<span class="i0">No grasp upon the saddle laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But wreathed his left hand in the mane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lightly bounded from the plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Turned on the horse his arméd heel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stirred his courage with the steel.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">480</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Bounded the fiery steed in air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rider sat erect and fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then like a bolt from steel crossbow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth launched, along the plain they go.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They dashed that rapid torrent through,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">485</span>
+<span class="i0">And up Carhonie's hill they flew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still at the gallop pricked the Knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His merrymen followed as they might.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the race they mock thy tide;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">490</span>
+<span class="i0">Torry and Lendrick now are past,<a href="#note5_490" name="line5_490" id="line5_490" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Deanstown lies behind them cast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They rise, the bannered towers of Doune,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sink in distant woodland soon;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">495</span>
+<span class="i0">They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They mark just glance and disappear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lofty brow of ancient Kier;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dark Forth! amid thy sluggish tides,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">500</span>
+<span class="i0">And on the opposing shore take ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With plash, with scramble, and with bound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And soon the bulwark of the North,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gray Stirling, with her towers and town,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">505</span>
+<span class="i0">Upon their fleet career looked down.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As up the flinty path they strained<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sudden his steed the leader reined;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">A signal to his squire he flung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who instant to his stirrup sprung:<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">510</span>
+<span class="i0">"Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who townward holds the rocky way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of stature tall and poor array?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With which he scales the mountain-side?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">515</span>
+<span class="i0">Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"No, by my word&mdash;a burly groom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He seems, who in the field or chase<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A baron's train would nobly grace."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Out, out, De Vaux! can fear supply,<a name="line5_519" id="line5_519"></a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">520</span>
+<span class="i0">And jealousy, no sharper eye?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Afar, ere to the hill he drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That stately form and step I knew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like form in Scotland is not seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Treads not such step on Scottish green.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">525</span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis James of Douglas, by Saint Serle!<a href="#note5_525" name="line5_525" id="line5_525" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The uncle of the banished Earl.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Away, away, to court, to show<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The near approach of dreaded foe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The King must stand upon his guard;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">530</span>
+<span class="i0">Douglas and he must meet prepared."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then righthand wheeled their steeds, and straight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They won the castle's postern gate.<a href="#note5_532" name="line5_532" id="line5_532" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Douglas, who had bent his way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">535</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Held sad communion with himself:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Yes! all is true my fears could frame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A prisoner lies the noble Graeme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fiery Roderick soon will feel<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">540</span>
+<span class="i0">The vengeance of the royal steel.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I, only I, can ward their fate&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God grant the ransom come not late!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Abbess hath her promise given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My child shall be the bride of heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">545</span>
+<span class="i0">Be pardoned one repining tear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For He, who gave her, knows how dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How excellent!&mdash;but that is by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now my business is&mdash;to die.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Ye towers! within whose circuit dread<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">550</span>
+<span class="i0">A Douglas by his sovereign bled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou, O sad and fatal mound!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That oft hast heard the death-ax sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As on the noblest of the land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">555</span>
+<span class="i0">The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prepare&mdash;for Douglas seeks his doom!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;But hark! what blithe and jolly peal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes the Franciscan steeple reel?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see! upon the crowded street,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">560</span>
+<span class="i0">In motley groups what maskers meet!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Banner and pageant, pipe and drum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And merry morris dancers come.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I guess, by all this quaint array,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The burghers hold their sports today.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">565</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">James will be there; he loves such show,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the good yeoman bends his bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the tough wrestler foils his foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As well as where, in proud career,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The high-born tilter shivers spear.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">570</span>
+<span class="i0">I'll follow to the Castle-park,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And play my prize&mdash;King James shall mark<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If age has tamed these sinews stark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose force so oft, in happier days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His boyish wonder loved to praise."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">575</span>
+<span class="i0">The Castle gates were open flung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And echoed loud the flinty street<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the coursers' clattering feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As slowly down the steep descent<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">580</span>
+<span class="i0">Fair Scotland's King and nobles went,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While all along the crowded way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was jubilee and loud huzza.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever James was bending low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To his white jennet's saddle-bow,<a href="#note5_584" name="line5_584" id="line5_584" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">585</span>
+<span class="i0">Doffing his cap to city dame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And well the simperer might be vain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He chose the fairest of the train.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gravely he greets each city sire,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">590</span>
+<span class="i0">Commends each pageant's quaint attire.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Gives to the dancers thanks aloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And smiles and nods upon the crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who rend the heavens with their acclaims,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Long live the Commons' King, King James!"<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">595</span>
+<span class="i0">Behind the King thronged peer and knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And noble dame and damsel bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the steep street and crowded way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in the train you might discern<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">600</span>
+<span class="i0">Dark lowering brow and visage stern;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There nobles mourned their pride restrained,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the mean burgher's joys disdained;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were each from home a banished man,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">605</span>
+<span class="i0">There thought upon their own gray tower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their waving woods, their feudal power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deemed themselves a shameful part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of pageant which they cursed in heart.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now, in the Castle-park, drew out<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">610</span>
+<span class="i0">Their checkered bands the joyous rout.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their morricers, with bell at heel,<a href="#note5_611" name="line5_611" id="line5_611" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And blade in hand, their mazes wheel;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And chief, beside the butts, there stand<a href="#note5_613" name="line5_613" id="line5_613" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bold Robin Hood and all his band&mdash;<a href="#note5_614" name="line5_614" id="line5_614" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">615</span>
+<span class="i0">Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Maid Marion, fair as ivory bone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their bugles challenge all that will,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">620</span>
+<span class="i0">In archery to prove their skill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Douglas bent a bow of might&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His first shaft centered in the white,<a href="#note5_622" name="line5_622" id="line5_622" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when in turn he shot again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His second split the first in twain.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">625</span>
+<span class="i0">From the King's hand must Douglas take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A silver dart, the archer's stake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fondly he watched, with watery eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some answering glance of sympathy&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No kind emotion made reply!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">630</span>
+<span class="i0">Indifferent as to archer wight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The monarch gave the arrow bright.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now, clear the ring! for, hand to hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The manly wrestlers take their stand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two o'er the rest superior rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">635</span>
+<span class="i0">And proud demanded mightier foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor called in vain; for Douglas came.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;For life is Hugh of Larbert lame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce better John of Alloa's fare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom senseless home his comrades bear.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">640</span>
+<span class="i0">Prize of the wrestling match, the King<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Douglas gave a golden ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While coldly glanced his eye of blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As frozen drop of wintry dew.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Douglas would speak, but in his breast<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">645</span>
+<span class="i0">His struggling soul his words suppressed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Indignant then he turned him where<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their arms the brawny yeomen bare.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hurl the massive bar in air.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When each his utmost strength had shown,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">650</span>
+<span class="i0">The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From its deep bed, then heaved it high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sent the fragment through the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A rood beyond the farthest mark;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still in Stirling's royal park,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">655</span>
+<span class="i0">The gray-haired sires, who know the past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To strangers point the Douglas-cast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And moralize on the decay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Scottish strength in modern day.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The vale with loud applauses rang,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">660</span>
+<span class="i0">The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang.<a href="#note5_660" name="line5_660" id="line5_660" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The King, with look unmoved, bestowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A purse well-filled with pieces broad.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Indignant smiled the Douglas proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And threw the gold among the crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">665</span>
+<span class="i0">Who now, with anxious wonder, scan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sharper glance, the dark gray man;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till whispers rose among the throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That heart so free, and hand so strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must to the Douglas blood belong.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">670</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The old men marked and shook the head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see his hair with silver spread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And winked aside, and told each son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of feats upon the English done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">675</span>
+<span class="i0">Was exiled from his native land.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The women praised his stately form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though wrecked by many a winter's storm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The youth with awe and wonder saw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His strength surpassing Nature's law.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">680</span>
+<span class="i0">Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till murmur rose to clamors loud.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But not a glance from that proud ring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of peers who circled round the King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Douglas held communion kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">685</span>
+<span class="i0">Or called the banished man to mind;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No, not from those who, at the chase,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once held his side the honored place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Begirt his board, and, in the field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Found safety underneath his shield;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">690</span>
+<span class="i0">For he, whom royal eyes disown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When was his form to courtiers known!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Monarch saw the gambols flag,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bade let loose a gallant stag,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose pride, the holiday to crown,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">695</span>
+<span class="i0">Two favorite greyhounds should pull down,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">That venison free, and Bordeaux wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might serve the archery to dine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Lufra&mdash;whom from Douglas' side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">700</span>
+<span class="i0">The fleetest hound in all the North&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brave Lufra saw and darted forth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She left the royal hounds mid-way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dashing on the antlered prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">705</span>
+<span class="i0">And deep the flowing life-blood drank.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The King's stout huntsman saw the sport<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By strange intruder broken short,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came up, and with his leash unbound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In anger struck the noble hound.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">710</span>
+<span class="i0">The Douglas had endured, that morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And last, and worst to spirit proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had borne the pity of the crowd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Lufra had been fondly bred,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">715</span>
+<span class="i0">To share his board, to watch his bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oft would Ellen, Lufra's neck<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In maiden glee with garlands deck;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They were such playmates, that with name<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Lufra, Ellen's image came.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">720</span>
+<span class="i0">His stifled wrath is brimming high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In darkened brow and flashing eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As waves before the bark divide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crowd gave way before his stride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Needs but a buffet and no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">725</span>
+<span class="i0">The groom lies senseless in his gore.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Such blow no other hand could deal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though gauntleted in glove of steel.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then clamored loud the royal train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And brandished swords and staves amain,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">730</span>
+<span class="i0">But stern the Baron's warning&mdash;"Back!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Back, on your lives, ye menial pack!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beware the Douglas.&mdash;Yes! behold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">King James! the Douglas, doomed of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And vainly sought for near and far,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">735</span>
+<span class="i0">A victim to atone the war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A willing victim, now attends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor craves thy grace but for his friends."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Thus is my clemency repaid?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Presumptuous Lord!" the monarch said;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">740</span>
+<span class="i0">"Of thy misproud ambitious clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The only man, in whom a foe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My woman-mercy would not know:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But shall a Monarch's presence brook<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">745</span>
+<span class="i0">Injurious blow, and haughty look?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What ho! the Captain of our Guard!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give the offender fitting ward.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Break off the sports!"&mdash;for tumult rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">750</span>
+<span class="i0">"Break off the sports!" he said, and frowned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And bid our horsemen clear the ground."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>
+XXVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then uproar wild and misarray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Marred the fair form of festal day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The horsemen pricked among the crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">755</span>
+<span class="i0">Repelled by threats and insult loud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To earth are borne the old and weak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The timorous fly, the women shriek;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hardier urge tumultuous war.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">760</span>
+<span class="i0">At once round Douglas darkly sweep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The royal spears in circle deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And slowly scale the pathway steep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While on the rear in thunder pour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rabble with disordered roar.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">765</span>
+<span class="i0">With grief the noble Douglas saw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Commons rise against the law,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to the leading soldier said&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Sir John of Hyndford! 'twas my blade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That knighthood on thy shoulder laid;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">770</span>
+<span class="i0">For that good deed, permit me then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A word with these misguided men.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Hear, gentle friends! ere yet for me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye break the bands of fealty.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My life, my honor, and my cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">775</span>
+<span class="i0">I tender free to Scotland's laws.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are these so weak as must require<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The aid of your misguided ire?<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, if I suffer causeless wrong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is then my selfish rage so strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">780</span>
+<span class="i0">My sense of public weal so low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, for mean vengeance on a foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those cords of love I should unbind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which knit my country and my kind?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O no! Believe, in yonder tower<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">785</span>
+<span class="i0">It will not soothe my captive hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To know those spears our foes should dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For me in kindred gore are red;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To know, in fruitless brawl begun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For me, that mother wails her son;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">790</span>
+<span class="i0">For me, that widow's mate expires;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For me, that orphans weep their sires;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That patriots mourn insulted laws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And curse the Douglas for the cause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O let your patience ward such ill,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">795</span>
+<span class="i0">And keep your right to love me still!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The crowd's wild fury sunk again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In tears, as tempests melt in rain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For blessings on his generous head,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">800</span>
+<span class="i0">Who for his country felt alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And prized her blood beyond his own.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old men, upon the verge of life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blessed him who stayed the civil strife;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And mothers held their babes on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">805</span>
+<span class="i0">The self-devoted Chief to spy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Triumphant over wrongs and ire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To whom the prattlers owed a sire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even the rough soldier's heart was moved;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if behind some bier beloved,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">810</span>
+<span class="i0">With trailing arms and drooping head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Douglas up the hill he led,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at the Castle's battled verge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sighs resigned his honored charge.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The offended Monarch rode apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">815</span>
+<span class="i0">With bitter thought and swelling heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And would not now vouchsafe again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through Stirling streets to lead his train.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O Lennox, who would wish to rule<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This changeling crowd, this common fool?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">820</span>
+<span class="i0">Hear'st thou," he said, "the loud acclaim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With which they shout the Douglas name?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With like acclaim, the vulgar throat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strained for King James their morning note;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With like acclaim they hailed the day<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">825</span>
+<span class="i0">When first I broke the Douglas' sway;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And like acclaim would Douglas greet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If he could hurl me from my seat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who o'er the herd would wish to reign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">830</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Vain as the leaf upon the stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fickle as a changeful dream;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fantastic as a woman's mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou many-headed monster-thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">835</span>
+<span class="i0">O who could wish to be thy king!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But soft! what messenger of speed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spurs hitherward his panting steed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I guess his cognizance afar&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What from our cousin, John of Mar?"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">840</span>
+<span class="i0">"He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the safe and guarded ground;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For some foul purpose yet unknown&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Most sure for evil to the throne&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">845</span>
+<span class="i0">Has summoned his rebellious crew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These loose banditti stand arrayed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To break their muster marched, and soon<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">850</span>
+<span class="i0">Your Grace will hear of battle fought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But earnestly the Earl besought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till for such danger he provide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With scanty train you will not ride."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thou warn'st me I have done amiss&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">855</span>
+<span class="i0">I should have earlier looked to this;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">I lost it in this bustling day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Retrace with speed thy former way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spare not for spoiling of thy steed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The best of mine shall be thy meed.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">860</span>
+<span class="i0">Say to our faithful Lord of Mar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We do forbid the intended war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Roderick, this morn, in single fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was made our prisoner by a knight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Douglas hath himself and cause<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">865</span>
+<span class="i0">Submitted to our kingdom's laws.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tidings of their leaders lost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will soon dissolve the mountain host,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor would we that the vulgar feel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">870</span>
+<span class="i0">Bear Mar our message, Braco; fly!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He turned his steed&mdash;"My liege, I hie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, ere I cross this lily lawn,<a href="#note5_872" name="line5_872" id="line5_872" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I fear the broadswords will be drawn."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The turf the flying courser spurned,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">875</span>
+<span class="i0">And to his towers the King returned.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXXIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ill with King James's mood that day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suited gay feast and minstrel lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon were dismissed the courtly throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And soon cut short the festal song.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">880</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor less upon the saddened town<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The evening sunk in sorrow down.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The burghers spoke of civil jar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of rumored feuds and mountain war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">885</span>
+<span class="i0">All up in arms&mdash;The Douglas too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They mourned him pent within the hold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Where stout Earl William was of old."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there his word the speaker stayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And finger on his lip he laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">890</span>
+<span class="i0">Or pointed to his dagger blade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But jaded horsemen, from the west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At evening to the Castle pressed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And busy talkers said they bore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">895</span>
+<span class="i0">At noon the deadly fray begun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lasted till the set of sun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus giddy rumor shook the town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till closed the Night her pennons brown.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>
+CANTO SIXTH<br />
+<br />
+THE GUARD-ROOM</h2>
+
+
+<h3>I</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The sun, awakening, through the smoky air<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the dark city casts a sullen glance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rousing each caitiff to his task of care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of sinful man the sad inheritance;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">5</span>
+<span class="i0">Summoning revelers from the lagging dance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Scaring the prowling robber to his den;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And warning student pale to leave his pen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">10</span>
+<span class="i0">What various scenes, and, Oh! what scenes of woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fevered patient, from his pallet low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through crowded hospital beholds its stream;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">15</span>
+<span class="i1">The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>
+II</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At dawn the towers of Stirling rang<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">20</span>
+<span class="i0">With soldier-step and weapon-clang,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While drums, with rolling note, foretell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Relief to weary sentinel.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through narrow loop and casement barred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">25</span>
+<span class="i0">And, struggling with the smoky air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deadened the torches' yellow glare.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In comfortless alliance shone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lights through arch of blackened stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And showed wild shapes in garb of war,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">30</span>
+<span class="i0">Faces deformed with beard and scar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All haggard from the midnight watch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fevered with the stern debauch;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the oak table's massive board,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flooded with wine, with fragments stored,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">35</span>
+<span class="i0">And beakers drained, and cups o'erthrown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showed in what sport the night had flown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some, weary, snored on floor and bench;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some labored still their thirst to quench;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">40</span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the huge chimney's dying brands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While round them, or beside them flung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At every step their harness rung.<a href="#note6_42" name="line6_42" id="line6_42" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>III</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These drew not for their fields the sword,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like tenants of a feudal lord,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">45</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor owned the patriarchal claim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Chieftain in their leader's name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adventurers they, from far who roved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To live by battle which they loved.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There the Italian's clouded face,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">50</span>
+<span class="i0">The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mountain-loving Switzer there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More freely breathed in mountain-air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Fleming there despised the soil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That paid so ill the laborer's toil;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">55</span>
+<span class="i0">Their rolls showed French and German name;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And merry England's exiles came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To share, with ill-concealed disdain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All brave in arms, well trained to wield<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">60</span>
+<span class="i0">The heavy halberd, brand, and shield;<a href="#note6_60" name="line6_60" id="line6_60" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In camps licentious, wild and bold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In pillage fierce and uncontrolled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now, by holytide and feast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From rules of discipline released.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">65</span>
+<span class="i0">They held debate of bloody fray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fought 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fierce was their speech, and, mid their words,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their hands oft grappled to their swords;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">70</span>
+<span class="i0">Of wounded comrades groaning near,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose mangled limbs, and bodies gored,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bore token of the mountain sword,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their prayers and feverish wails were heard;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">75</span>
+<span class="i0">Sad burden to the ruffian joke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And savage oath by fury spoke!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length up-started John of Brent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A yeoman from the banks of Trent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A stranger to respect or fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">80</span>
+<span class="i0">In peace a chaser of the deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In host a hardy mutineer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But still the boldest of the crew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When deed of danger was to do.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He grieved, that day, their games cut short,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">85</span>
+<span class="i0">And marred the dicer's brawling sport,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shouted loud, "Renew the bowl!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, while in merry catch I troll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let each the buxom chorus bear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like brethren of the brand and spear."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>V<br />
+<br />
+SOLDIER'S SONG</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">90</span>
+<span class="i0">Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack,<a href="#note6_92" name="line6_92" id="line6_92" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">95</span>
+<span class="i0">Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar!<a href="#note6_95" name="line6_95" id="line6_95" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Says, that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">100</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet whoop, Jack! kiss Gillian the quicker,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our vicar thus preaches&mdash;and why should he not?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot;<a href="#note6_103" name="line6_103" id="line6_103" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And 'tis right of his office poor laymen to lurch,<a href="#note6_104" name="line6_104" id="line6_104" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">105</span>
+<span class="i0">Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet whoop, bully-boys! off with your liquor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the Vicar!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The warder's challenge, heard without,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stayed in mid-roar the merry shout.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">110</span>
+<span class="i0">A soldier to the portal went&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And&mdash;beat for jubilee the drum!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A maid and minstrel with him come."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">115</span>
+<span class="i0">Was entering now the Court of Guard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A harper with him, and in plaid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All muffled close, a mountain maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Who backward shrunk, to 'scape the view<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the loose scene and boisterous crew.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">120</span>
+<span class="i0">"What news?" they roared. "I only know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From noon till eve we fought with foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As wild and as untamable<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the rude mountains where they dwell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On both sides store of blood is lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">125</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor much success can either boast."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"But whence thy captives, friend? Such spoil<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As theirs must needs reward thy toil.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">130</span>
+<span class="i0">Get thee an ape, and trudge the land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The leader of a juggler band."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"No, comrade; no such fortune mine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">After the fight these sought our line,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That aged harper and the girl,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">135</span>
+<span class="i0">And, having audience of the Earl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mar bade I should purvey them steed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bring them hitherward with speed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forbear your mirth and rude alarm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For none shall do them shame or harm."<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">140</span>
+<span class="i0">"Hear ye his boast?" cried John of Brent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever to strife and jangling bent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Shall he strike doe beside our lodge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet the jealous niggard grudge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To pay the forester his fee?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">145</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll have my share, howe'er it be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bertram his forward step withstood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, burning in his vengeful mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old Allan, though unfit for strife;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">150</span>
+<span class="i0">Laid hand upon his dagger-knife;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Ellen boldly stepped between,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dropped at once the tartan screen.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, from his morning cloud, appears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun of May, through summer tears.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">155</span>
+<span class="i0">The savage soldiery, amazed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As on descended angel gazed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood half admiring, half ashamed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>VIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Boldly she spoke&mdash;"Soldiers, attend!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">160</span>
+<span class="i0">My father was the soldier's friend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cheered him in camps, in marches led,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with him in the battle bled.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not from the valiant, or the strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should exile's daughter suffer wrong."<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">165</span>
+<span class="i0">Answered De Brent, most forward still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In every feat of good or ill:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I shame me of the part I played;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An outlaw I by forest laws,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">170</span>
+<span class="i0">And merry Needwood knows the cause.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Poor Rose&mdash;if Rose be living now"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He wiped his iron eye and brow&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Must bear such age, I think, as thou.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear ye, my mates; I go to call<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">175</span>
+<span class="i0">The Captain of our watch to hall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There lies my halberd on the floor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he that steps my halberd o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To do the maid injurious part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My shaft shall quiver in his heart!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">180</span>
+<span class="i0">Beware loose speech, or jesting rough;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye all know John de Brent. Enough."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>IX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Their Captain came, a gallant young&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Tullibardine's house he sprung&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">185</span>
+<span class="i0">Gay was his mien, his humor light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, though by courtesy controlled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forward his speech, his bearing bold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The high-born maiden ill could brook<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The scanning of his curious look<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">190</span>
+<span class="i0">And dauntless eye; and yet, in sooth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Young Lewis was a generous youth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Ellen's lovely face and mien,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ill suited to the garb and scene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might lightly bear construction strange,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">195</span>
+<span class="i0">And give loose fancy scope to range.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come ye to seek a champion's aid,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">On palfrey white, with harper hoar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like errant damosel of yore?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">200</span>
+<span class="i0">Does thy high quest a knight require,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or may the venture suit a squire?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her dark eye flashed&mdash;she paused and sighed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O what have I to do with pride!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">205</span>
+<span class="i0">A suppliant for a father's life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I crave an audience of the King.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold, to back my suit, a ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The royal pledge of grateful claims,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>X</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">210</span>
+<span class="i0">The signet ring young Lewis took,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With deep respect and altered look;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And said&mdash;"This ring our duties own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pardon, if to worth unknown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In semblance mean obscurely veiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">215</span>
+<span class="i0">Lady, in aught my folly failed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon as the day flings wide his gates,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The King shall know what suitor waits.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Repose you till his waking hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">220</span>
+<span class="i0">Female attendance shall obey<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your hest, for service or array.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Permit I marshal you the way."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, ere she followed, with the grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And open bounty of her race,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">225</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">She bade her slender purse be shared<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the soldiers of the guard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rest with thanks their guerdon took;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Brent, with shy and awkward look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the reluctant maiden's hold<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">230</span>
+<span class="i0">Forced bluntly back the proffered gold:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Forgive a haughty English heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And O forget its ruder part!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The vacant purse shall be my share,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which in my barret-cap I'll bear.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">235</span>
+<span class="i0">Perchance, in jeopardy of war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where gayer crests may keep afar."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With thanks&mdash;'twas all she could&mdash;the maid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His rugged courtesy repaid.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When Ellen forth with Lewis went,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">240</span>
+<span class="i0">Allan made suit to John of Brent:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"My lady safe, O let your grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give me to see my master's face!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His minstrel I&mdash;to share his doom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bound from the cradle to the tomb.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">245</span>
+<span class="i0">Tenth in descent, since first my sires<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waked for his noble house their lyres,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor one of all the race was known<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But prized its weal above their own.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the Chief's birth begins our care;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">250</span>
+<span class="i0">Our harp must soothe the infant heir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">His earliest feat of field or chase;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In peace, in war, our ranks we keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">255</span>
+<span class="i0">Nor leave him till we pour our verse&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A doleful tribute!&mdash;o'er his hearse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then let me share his captive lot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is my right&mdash;deny it not!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Little we reck," said John of Brent,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">260</span>
+<span class="i0">"We Southern men, of long descent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor wot we how a name&mdash;a word&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes clansmen vassals to a lord;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet kind my noble landlord's part&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God bless the house of Beaudesert!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">265</span>
+<span class="i0">And, but I loved to drive the deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More than to guide the laboring steer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I had not dwelt an outcast here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, good old Minstrel, follow me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">270</span>
+<span class="i0">Then, from a rusted iron hook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A bunch of ponderous keys he took,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lighted a torch, and Allan led<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through grated arch and passage dread.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Portals they passed, where, deep within,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">275</span>
+<span class="i0">Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters' din;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay wheel, and ax, and headsman's sword,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And many an hideous engine grim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For wrenching joint, and crushing limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">280</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">By artist formed, who deemed it shame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sin to give their work a name.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They halted at a low-browed porch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Brent to Allan gave the torch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While bolt and chain he backward rolled<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">285</span>
+<span class="i0">And made the bar unhasp its hold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They entered&mdash;'twas a prison-room<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of stern security and gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet not a dungeon; for the day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through lofty gratings found its way,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">290</span>
+<span class="i0">And rude and antique garniture<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Decked the sad walls and oaken floor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such as the rugged days of old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deemed fit for captive noble's hold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Here," said De Brent, "thou mayst remain<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">295</span>
+<span class="i0">Till the Leech visit him again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strict is his charge, the warders tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tend the noble prisoner well."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Retiring then the bolt he drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the lock's murmurings growled anew.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">300</span>
+<span class="i0">Roused at the sound, from lowly bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A captive feebly raised his head;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wondering Minstrel looked, and knew&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">305</span>
+<span class="i0">They, erring, deemed the Chief he sought.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As the tall ship, whose lofty prore<a href="#note6_306" name="line6_306" id="line6_306" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall never stem the billows more,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Deserted by her gallant band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amid the breakers lies astrand,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">310</span>
+<span class="i0">So, on his couch, lay Roderick Dhu!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oft his fevered limbs he threw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In toss abrupt, as when her sides<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lie rocking in the advancing tides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That shake her frame with ceaseless beat,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">315</span>
+<span class="i0">Yet cannot heave her from her seat&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! how unlike her course at sea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or his free step on hill and lea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon as the Minstrel he could scan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"What of thy lady?&mdash;of my clan?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">320</span>
+<span class="i0">My mother?&mdash;Douglas?&mdash;tell me all?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have they been ruined in my fall?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, yes! or wherefore art thou here!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet speak&mdash;speak boldly&mdash;do not fear."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Allan, who his mood well knew,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">325</span>
+<span class="i0">Was choked with grief and terror too.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Who fought&mdash;who fled?&mdash;Old man, be brief&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some might&mdash;for they had lost their Chief.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who basely live?&mdash;who bravely died?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O calm thee, Chief!" the Minstrel cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">330</span>
+<span class="i0">"Ellen is safe;" "For that thank Heaven!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And hopes are for the Douglas given;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Lady Margaret too is well;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, for thy clan&mdash;on field or fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has never harp of minstrel told,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">335</span>
+<span class="i0">Of combat fought so true and bold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy stately Pine is yet unbent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though many a goodly bough is rent."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>
+XIV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Chieftain reared his form on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fever's fire was in his eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">340</span>
+<span class="i0">But ghastly pale, and livid streaks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Checkered his swarthy brow and cheeks.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Hark, Minstrel! I have heard thee play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With measure bold, on festal day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In yon lone isle, ... again where ne'er<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">345</span>
+<span class="i0">Shall harper play, or warrior hear!...<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That stirring air that peals on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er Dermid's race our victory.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strike it!&mdash;and then&mdash;for well thou canst&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Free from thy minstrel spirit glanced,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">350</span>
+<span class="i0">Fling me the picture of the fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When met my clan the Saxon might.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll listen, till my fancy hears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clang of swords, the crash of spears!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These grates, these walls, shall vanish then,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">355</span>
+<span class="i0">For the fair field of fighting men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my free spirit burst away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if it soared from battle fray."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The trembling Bard with awe obeyed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slow on the harp his hand he laid;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">360</span>
+<span class="i0">But soon remembrance of the sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He witnessed from the mountain's height,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With what old Bertram told at night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Awakened the full power of song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bore him in career along;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">365</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">As shallop launched on river's side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That slow and fearful leaves the side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, when it feels the middle stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drives downward swift as lightning's beam.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XV<br />
+<br />
+BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The Minstrel came once more to view<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">370</span>
+<span class="i0">The eastern ridge of Benvenue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For ere he parted, he would say<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Farewell to lovely Loch Achray&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where shall he find in foreign land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So lone a lake, so sweet a strand!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">375</span>
+<span class="i1">There is no breeze upon the fern,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor ripple on the lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon her eyry nods the erne,<a href="#note6_377" name="line6_377" id="line6_377" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The deer has sought the brake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The small birds will not sing aloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">380</span>
+<span class="i2">The springing trout lies still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So darkly glooms yon thunder cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That swathes, as with a purple shroud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Benledi's distant hill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is it the thunder's solemn sound<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">385</span>
+<span class="i2">That mutters deep and dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or echoes from the groaning ground<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The warrior's measured tread?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is it the lightning's quivering glance<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That on the thicket streams,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">390</span>
+<span class="i1">Or do they flash on spear and lance<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">The sun's retiring beams?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;I see the dagger-crest of Mar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see the Moray's silver star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">395</span>
+<span class="i0">That up the lake comes winding far!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hero boune for battle-strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or bard of martial lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One glance at their array!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">400</span>
+<span class="i0">"Their light-armed archers far and near<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Surveyed the tangled ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their center ranks, with pike and spear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A twilight forest frowned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their barded horsemen, in the rear,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">405</span>
+<span class="i1">The stern battalia crowned.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Still were the pipe and drum;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save heavy tread, and armor's clang,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sullen march was dumb.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">410</span>
+<span class="i0">There breathed no wind their crests to shake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or wave their flags abroad;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That shadowed o'er their road.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their vaward scouts no tidings bring,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">415</span>
+<span class="i1">Can rouse no lurking foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor spy a trace of living thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Save when they stirred the roe;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">The host moves, like a deep-sea wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where rise no rocks its pride to brave,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">420</span>
+<span class="i2">High-swelling, dark, and slow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lake is passed, and now they gain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A narrow and a broken plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before the Trossachs' rugged jaws;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here the horse and spearmen pause,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">425</span>
+<span class="i0">While, to explore the dangerous glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dive through the pass the archer-men.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"At once there rose so wild a yell<a href="#note6_427" name="line6_427" id="line6_427" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within that dark and narrow dell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As all the fiends, from heaven that fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">430</span>
+<span class="i0">Had pealed the banner-cry of hell!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth from the pass in tumult driven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like chaff before the wind of heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The archery appear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For life! for life! their flight they ply&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">435</span>
+<span class="i0">And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And plaids and bonnets waving high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And broadswords flashing to the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are maddening in the rear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Onward they drive, in dreadful race,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">440</span>
+<span class="i1">Pursuers and pursued;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before that tide of flight and chase,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How shall it keep its rooted place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The spearmen's twilight wood?<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">'Down, down,' cried Mar, 'your lances down!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">445</span>
+<span class="i1">Bear back both friend and foe!'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like reeds before the tempest's frown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That serried grove of lances brown<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">At once lay leveled low;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And closely shouldering side to side,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">450</span>
+<span class="i0">The bristling ranks the onset bide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'We'll quell the savage mountaineer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As their Tinchel cows the game!<a href="#note6_452" name="line6_452" id="line6_452" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They come as fleet as forest deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We'll drive them back as tame.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">455</span>
+<span class="i0">"Bearing before them, in their course,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The relics of the archer force,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like wave with crest of sparkling foam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Right onward did Clan-Alpine come.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Above the tide, each broadsword bright<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">460</span>
+<span class="i1">Was brandishing like beam of light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Each targe was dark below;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And with the ocean's mighty swing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When heaving to the tempest's wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They hurled them on the foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">465</span>
+<span class="i0">I heard the lance's shivering crash,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As when the whirlwind rends the ash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I heard the broadsword's deadly clang,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if an hundred anvils rang!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Moray wheeled his rearward rank<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">470</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'My banner-man advance!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I see,' he cried, 'their column shake.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now, gallants! for your ladies' sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Upon them with the lance!'<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">475</span>
+<span class="i1">The horsemen dashed among the rout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As deer break through the broom;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their steeds are stout, their swords are out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They soon make lightsome room.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Clan-Alpine's best are backward borne&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">480</span>
+<span class="i2">Where, where was Roderick then!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">One blast upon his bugle-horn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Were worth a thousand men.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And refluent through the pass of fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The battle's tide was poured;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">485</span>
+<span class="i1">Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Vanished the mountain-sword.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Receives her roaring linn,<a href="#note6_488" name="line6_488" id="line6_488" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As the dark caverns of the deep<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">490</span>
+<span class="i2">Suck the wild whirlpool in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So did the deep and darksome pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Devour the battle's mingled mass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">None linger now upon the plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save those who ne'er shall fight again.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XIX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">495</span>
+<span class="i0">"Now westward rolls the battle's din,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">That deep and doubling pass within.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Minstrel, away! the work of fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is bearing on; its issue wait,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the rude Trossachs' dread defile<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">500</span>
+<span class="i0">Opens on Katrine's lake and isle.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gray Benvenue I soon repassed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun is set, the clouds are met,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The lowering scowl of heaven<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">505</span>
+<span class="i1">An inky hue of livid blue<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the deep lake has given;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strange gusts of wind from mountain-glen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I heeded not the eddying surge,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">510</span>
+<span class="i0">Mine eye but saw the Trossachs' gorge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mine ear but heard the sullen sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which like an earthquake shook the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spoke the stern and desperate strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That parts not but with parting life,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">515</span>
+<span class="i0">Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dirge of many a passing soul.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nearer it comes&mdash;the dim-wood glen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The martial flood disgorged again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But not in mingled tide;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">520</span>
+<span class="i0">The plaided warriors of the North<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High on the mountain thunder forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And overhang its side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While by the lake below appears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">525</span>
+<span class="i0">At weary bay each shattered band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Their banners stream like tattered sail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That flings its fragments to the gale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And broken arms and disarray<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">530</span>
+<span class="i0">Marked the fell havoc of the day.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Viewing the mountain's ridge askance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Saxon stood in sullen trance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till Moray pointed with his lance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And cried&mdash;'Behold yon isle!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">535</span>
+<span class="i0">See! none are left to guard its strand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But women weak, that wring the hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis there of yore the robber band<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Their booty wont to pile.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My purse, with bonnet-pieces store,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">540</span>
+<span class="i0">To him will swim a bow-shot o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And loose a shallop from the shore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lords of his mate, and brood, and den.'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">545</span>
+<span class="i0">On earth his casque and corselet rung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He plunged him in the wave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All saw the deed&mdash;the purpose knew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to their clamors Benvenue<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A mingled echo gave;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">550</span>
+<span class="i0">The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The helpless females scream for fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yells for rage the mountaineer.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas then, as by the outcry riven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poured down at once the lowering heaven;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">555</span>
+<span class="i0">A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her billows reared their snowy crest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well for the swimmer swelled they high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To mar the Highland marksman's eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For round him showered, 'mid rain and hail,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">560</span>
+<span class="i0">The vengeful arrows of the Gael.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In vain&mdash;he nears the isle&mdash;and lo!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hand is on a shallop's bow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just then a flash of lightning came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It tinged the waves and strand with flame;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">565</span>
+<span class="i0">I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behind an oak I saw her stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A naked dirk gleamed in her hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It darkened&mdash;but, amid the moan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of waves, I heard a dying groan;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">570</span>
+<span class="i0">Another flash!&mdash;the spearman floats<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A weltering corse beside the boats,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the stern matron o'er him stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her hand and dagger streaming blood.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Revenge! revenge!' the Saxons cried;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">575</span>
+<span class="i0">The Gaels' exulting shout replied.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Despite the elemental rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again they hurried to engage;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, ere they closed in desperate fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Bloody with spurring came a knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">580</span>
+<span class="i0">Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clarion and trumpet by his side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rung forth a truce-note high and wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While, in the Monarch's name, afar<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">585</span>
+<span class="i0">An herald's voice forbade the war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Bothwell's lord, and Roderick bold,<a href="#note6_586" name="line6_586" id="line6_586" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were both, he said, in captive hold."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;But here the lay made sudden stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">590</span>
+<span class="i0">Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy:<a href="#note6_591" name="line6_591" id="line6_591" class="note">note</a><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At first, the Chieftain, to the chime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lifted hand, kept feeble time;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That motion ceased&mdash;yet feeling strong<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">595</span>
+<span class="i0">Varied his look as changed the song;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length, no more his deafened ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The minstrel melody can hear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His face grows sharp&mdash;his hands are clenched,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">600</span>
+<span class="i0">Set are his teeth, his fading eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is sternly fixed on vacancy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old Allan-bane looked on aghast,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">605</span>
+<span class="i0">While grim and still his spirit passed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when he saw that life was fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He poured his wailing o'er the dead.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>
+XXII<br />
+<br />
+LAMENT</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And art thou cold and lowly laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">610</span>
+<span class="i0">Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thee shall none a requiem say?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;For thee&mdash;who loved the minstrel's lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shelter of her exiled line,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">615</span>
+<span class="i0">E'en in this prison-house of thine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll wail for Alpine's honored Pine!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What groans shall yonder valleys fill!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What tears of burning rage shall thrill,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">620</span>
+<span class="i0">When mourns thy tribe thy battles done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy fall before the race was won,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There breathes not clansman of thy line,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But would have given his life for thine.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">625</span>
+<span class="i0">O woe for Alpine's honored Pine!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Sad was thy lot on mortal stage!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The captive thrush may brook the cage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The prisoned eagle dies for rage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">630</span>
+<span class="i0">And, when its notes awake again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even she, so long beloved in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall with my harp her voice combine,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And mix her woe and tears with mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wail Clan-Alpine's honored Pine."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">635</span>
+<span class="i0">Ellen, the while, with bursting heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remained in lordly bower apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where played, with many colored gleams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through storied pane the rising beams.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In vain on gilded roof they fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">640</span>
+<span class="i0">And lightened up a tapestried wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for her use a menial train<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A rich collation spread in vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The banquet proud, the chamber gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce drew one curious glance astray;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">645</span>
+<span class="i0">Or if she looked, 'twas but to say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With better omen dawned the day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that lone isle where waved on high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dun-deer's hide for canopy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where oft her noble father shared<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">650</span>
+<span class="i0">The simple meal her care prepared,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Lufra, crouching by her side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her station claimed with jealous pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Douglas, bent on woodland game,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">655</span>
+<span class="i0">Whose answer, oft at random made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wandering of his thoughts betrayed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those who such simple joys have known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are taught to prize them when they're gone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But sudden, see, she lifts her head!<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">660</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The window seeks with cautious tread.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What distant music has the power<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To win her in this woeful hour!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twas from a turret that o'erhung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her latticed bower, the strain was sung.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIV<br />
+<br />
+LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">665</span>
+<span class="i0">"My hawk is tired of perch and hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My idle greyhound loathes his food,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My horse is weary of his stall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I am sick of captive thrall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I wish I were as I have been,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">670</span>
+<span class="i0">Hunting the hart in forest green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With bended bow and bloodhound free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For that's the life is meet for me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I hate to learn the ebb of time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">675</span>
+<span class="i0">Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inch after inch, along the wall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lark was wont my matins ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sable rook my vespers sing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These towers, although a king's they be,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">680</span>
+<span class="i0">Have not a hall of joy for me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"No more at dawning morn I rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sun myself in Ellen's eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drive the fleet deer the forest through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And homeward wend with evening dew;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">685</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">A blithesome welcome blithely meet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lay my trophies at her feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While fled the eve on wing of glee&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That life is lost to love and me!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXV</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The heartsick lay was hardly said,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">690</span>
+<span class="i0">The list'ner had not turned her head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It trickled still, the starting tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When light a footstep struck her ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Snowdoun's graceful knight was near.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She turned the hastier, lest again<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">695</span>
+<span class="i0">The prisoner should renew his strain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"How may an almost orphan maid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pay the deep debt"&mdash;"O say not so!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me no gratitude you owe.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">700</span>
+<span class="i0">Not mine, alas! the boon to give,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bid thy noble father live;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I can but be thy guide, sweet maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Scotland's King thy suit to aid.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No tyrant he, though ire and pride<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">705</span>
+<span class="i0">May lay his better mood aside.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, Ellen, come! 'tis more than time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He holds his court at morning prime."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With beating heart, and bosom wrung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As to a brother's arm she clung.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">710</span>
+<span class="i0">Gently he dried the falling tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gently whispered hope and cheer;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Her faltering steps, half led, half stayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through gallery fair, and high arcade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till, at his touch, its wings of pride<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">715</span>
+<span class="i0">A portal arch unfolded wide.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVI</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Within 'twas brilliant all and light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thronging scene of figures bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As when the setting sun has given<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">720</span>
+<span class="i0">Ten thousand hues to summer even,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from their tissue, fancy frames<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aërial knights and fairy dames.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still by Fitz-James her footing stayed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A few faint steps she forward made,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">725</span>
+<span class="i0">Then slow her drooping head she raised,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fearful round the presence gazed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For him she sought, who owned this state,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dreaded Prince whose will was fate!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She gazed on many a princely port,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">730</span>
+<span class="i0">Might well have ruled a royal court;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On many a splendid garb she gazed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then turned bewildered and amazed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For all stood bare; and, in the room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">735</span>
+<span class="i0">To him each lady's look was lent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On him each courtier's eye was bent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He stood, in simple Lincoln green,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The center of the glittering ring&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">740</span>
+<span class="i0">And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As wreath of snow, on mountain breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slides from the rock that gave it rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poor Ellen glided from her stay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at the Monarch's feet she lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">745</span>
+<span class="i0">No word her choking voice commands&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She showed the ring&mdash;she clasped her hands.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! not a moment could he brook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The generous Prince, that suppliant look!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gently he raised her&mdash;and, the while,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">750</span>
+<span class="i0">Checked with a glance the circle's smile;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bade her terrors be dismissed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Yes, Fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fealty of Scotland claims.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">755</span>
+<span class="i0">To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He will redeem his signet-ring.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ask naught for Douglas; yester even<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His prince and he have much forgiven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">760</span>
+<span class="i0">I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We would not, to the vulgar crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yield what they craved with clamor loud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calmly we heard and judged his cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our council aided, and our laws.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">765</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">I stanched thy father's death-feud stern,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Bothwell's lord henceforth we own<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The friend and bulwark of our throne.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, lovely infidel, how now?<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">770</span>
+<span class="i0">What clouds thy misbelieving brow?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou must confirm this doubting maid."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXVIII</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then forth the noble Douglas sprung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on his neck his daughter hung.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">775</span>
+<span class="i0">The Monarch drank, that happy hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweetest, holiest draught of Power&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When it can say, with godlike voice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet would not James the general eye<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">780</span>
+<span class="i0">On Nature's raptures long should pry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He stepped between&mdash;"Nay, Douglas, nay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Steal not my proselyte away!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The riddle 'tis my right to read,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That brought this happy chance to speed.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">785</span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In life's more low but happier way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis under name which veils my power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor falsely veils&mdash;for Stirling's tower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">790</span>
+<span class="i0">And Normans call me James Fitz-James.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus watch I o'er insulted laws,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus learn to right the injured cause."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, in a tone apart and low&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ah, little traitress! none must know<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">795</span>
+<span class="i0">What idle dream, what lighter thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What vanity full dearly bought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My spell-bound steps to Benvenue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In dangerous hour, and all but gave<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">800</span>
+<span class="i0">Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive!"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aloud he spoke, "Thou still dost hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That little talisman of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What seeks fair Ellen of the King?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h3>XXIX</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">805</span>
+<span class="i0">Full well the conscious maiden guessed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He probed the weakness of her breast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, with that consciousness, there came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lightening of her fears for Graeme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And more she deemed the Monarch's ire<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">810</span>
+<span class="i0">Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rebellious broadsword boldly drew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, to her generous feeling true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Forbear thy suit&mdash;the King of kings<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">815</span>
+<span class="i0">Alone can stay life's parting wings.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know his heart, I know his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">My fairest earldom would I give<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">820</span>
+<span class="i0">Hast thou no other boon to crave?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No other captive friend to save?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blushing, she turned her from the King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to the Douglas gave the ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if she wished her sire to speak<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">825</span>
+<span class="i0">The suit that stained her glowing cheek.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stubborn justice holds her course.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Malcolm, come forth!"&mdash;and, at the word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's lord.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">830</span>
+<span class="i0">"For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From thee may Vengeance claim her dues,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, nurtured underneath our smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hast paid our care by treacherous wile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sought, amid thy faithful clan,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">835</span>
+<span class="i0">A refuge for an outlawed man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dishonoring thus thy loyal name.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fetters and warder for the Graeme!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His chain of gold the King unstrung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">840</span>
+<span class="i0">Then gently drew the glittering band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand.<br /></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<hr />
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On purple peaks a deeper shade descending;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In twilight copse the glowworm lights her spark,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">845</span>
+<span class="i1">The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy slumbers sweet with Nature's vespers blending,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With distant echo from the fold and lea,<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">850</span>
+<span class="i0">And herdboy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel harp!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And little reck I of the censure sharp<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">May idly cavil at an idle lay.<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">855</span>
+<span class="i0">Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through secret woes the world has never known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When on the weary night dawned wearier day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And bitterer was the grief devoured alone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I o'erlived such woes, Enchantress! is thine own.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="linenum">860</span>
+<span class="i0">Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Receding now, the dying numbers ring<br /></span>
+<span class="linenum">865</span>
+<span class="i1">Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A wandering witch-note of the distant spell&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now, 'tis silent all!&mdash;Enchantress, fare thee well!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>
+<a name="NOTES" id="NOTES"></a>NOTES</h2>
+
+
+<h3>CANTO FIRST</h3>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_2" name="note1_2">2</a>. <span class="bold">witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring.</span> The well or spring of
+St. Fillan is on the summit of a hill near Loch Earn, some miles
+northeast of the scene of the poem. The reason why Scott places the
+"Harp of the North" here is that St. Fillan was the favorite saint of
+Robert Bruce, and a relic of the saint had been borne in a shrine by a
+warlike abbot at the battle of Bannockburn. The word "witch" (more
+properly spelled "wych") is connected with "wicker" and means "bending,"
+"drooping."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_10" name="note1_10">10</a>. <span class="bold">Caledon.</span> Caledonia, poetic name for Scotland.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_29" name="note1_29">29</a>. <span class="bold">Monan's rill.</span> Scott takes the liberty of assigning a "rill" to
+this Scottish martyr of the fourth century on his own authority, unless
+his editors have been at fault in failing to discover the stream
+indicated.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_31" name="note1_31">31</a>. <span class="bold">Glenartney's.</span> Glen Artney or Valley of the Artney. The Artney is a
+small river northeast of the main scene of the poem.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_33" name="note1_33">33</a>. <span class="bold">Benvoirlich.</span> "Ben" is Scottish for mountain. Benvoirlich is near
+the western end of Glenartney.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_53" name="note1_53">53</a>. <span class="bold">Uam-Var.</span> A mountain between Glenartney and the Braes of Doune. The
+name signifies "great den," and is derived from a rocky enclosure on the
+mountain-side, believed to have been used in primitive times as a toil
+or trap for deer. As told in <a href="#line1_74">Stanza IV</a> a giant was fabled to have
+inhabited this den.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_71" name="note1_71">71</a>. <span class="bold">linn.</span> This word means either "waterfall" or "steep ravine." The
+latter is probably the meaning here.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_89" name="note1_89">89</a>. <span class="bold">Menteith.</span> A village and district southeast of the line of
+lakes&mdash;Loch Katrine, Loch Achray, and Loch Vennachar&mdash;about which the
+main action of the poem moves.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_93" name="note1_93">93</a>. <span class="bold">Lochard.</span> Loch Ard, a small lake south of Loch Katrine.
+<span class="bold">Aberfoyle.</span> A village east of Loch Ard.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_95" name="note1_95">95</a>. <span class="bold">Loch-Achray.</span> See note on <a href="#note1_89">89</a>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span><a href="#line1_97" name="note1_97">97</a>. <span class="bold">Benvenue.</span> A mountain on the south bank of Loch Katrine.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_103" name="note1_103">103</a>. <span class="bold">Cambusmore.</span> An estate owned by Scott's friends, the Buchanans, on
+the border of the Braes of Doune.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_105" name="note1_105">105</a>. <span class="bold">Benledi.</span> A majestic mountain shutting in the horizon to the north
+of Loch Vennachar.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_106" name="note1_106">106</a>. <span class="bold">Bochastle's heath.</span> The plain between Loch Vennachar and the river
+Teith.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_112" name="note1_112">112</a>. <span class="bold">Brigg of Turk.</span> A romantic bridge, still in existence, between
+Loch Vennachar and Loch Achray.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_120" name="note1_120">120</a>. <span class="bold">dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed.</span> A breed of dogs, usually
+black in color, very keen of scent and powerful in build, were kept by
+the abbots of St. Hubert in commemoration of their patron saint, who was
+a hunter.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_138" name="note1_138">138</a>. <span class="bold">whinyard.</span> Obsolete term for <span class="italic">sword</span>.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_145" name="note1_145">145</a>. <span class="bold">Trossachs.</span> A wild and beautiful defile between Loch Katrine and
+Loch Achray. The word signifies "rough or bristled country."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_166" name="note1_166">166</a>. <span class="bold">Woe worth the chase.</span> "Woe worth" is an exclamation, equivalent to
+"alack!"</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_178" name="note1_178">178</a>. <span class="bold">Round and around the sounds were cast.</span> Notice the mimicry of the
+echo in the vowel sounds of the line.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_196" name="note1_196">196</a>. <span class="bold">tower ... on Shinar's plain.</span> The Tower of Babel.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_208" name="note1_208">208</a>. <span class="bold">dewdrops sheen.</span> What part of speech is <span class="italic">sheen</span>? Is this use of
+the word obsolete in prose?</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_227" name="note1_227">227</a>. <span class="bold">frequent flung.</span> "Frequent" is used in the original Latin sense
+(Lat. <span class="italic">frequens</span>) of "crowded together," "numerous."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_256" name="note1_256">256</a>. <span class="bold">Unless he climb, with footing nice.</span> Scott says: "Until the
+present road was made through the romantic pass I have presumptuously
+attempted to describe, there was no mode of issuing out of the defile
+called the Trossachs, excepting by a sort of ladder, composed of the
+branches and roots of trees." What is the meaning of "nice" here? What
+other meanings has the word had?</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_313" name="note1_313">313</a>. <span class="bold">Highland plunderers.</span> The clans inhabiting the region about Loch
+Katrine were in the habit of making incursions into the neighboring
+Lowlands to plunder and lay waste the country. Their warlike habits were
+fostered by the rugged and almost inaccessible character of the country,
+which prevented the Lowlanders from retaliating upon them, and enabled
+them also to resist the royal authority.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>
+<a href="#line1_363" name="note1_363">363</a>. <span class="bold">snood.</span> A ribbon worn by Scotch lassies and upon marriage replaced
+by the matron's "curch" or cap. <span class="bold">plaid.</span> A rectangular shawl-like
+garment made of the checkered cloth called tartan.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_438" name="note1_438">438</a>. <span class="bold">couch was pulled.</span> Freshly pulled heather was the most luxurious
+bedding known to the Highlander.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_440" name="note1_440">440</a>. <span class="bold">ptarmigan and heath-cock.</span> These birds are a species of grouse,
+the one red, the other black.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_460" name="note1_460">460</a>. <span class="bold">on the visioned future bent.</span> The gift of second-sight was
+universally believed in at this period in the Highlands.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_504" name="note1_504">504</a>. <span class="bold">retreat in dangerous hour.</span> "The Celtic chieftains, whose lives
+were continually exposed to peril, had usually, in the most retired spot
+of their domain, some place of retreat for the hour of necessity ... a
+tower, a cavern, or a rustic hut." (Scott's note in edition of 1830.)</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_546" name="note1_546">546</a>. <span class="bold">target.</span> What is the connection of this word with that used in
+archery and gun-practice?</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_566" name="note1_566">566</a>. <span class="bold">brook to wield.</span> "Brook" commonly means "endure." What is its
+exact meaning here?</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_573" name="note1_573">573</a>. <span class="bold">Ferragus, or Ascabart.</span> Two giants whose names appear frequently
+in medieval romances of chivalry. The first is better known as Ferran,
+under which name he figures in the <span class="italic">Orlando Furioso</span> of Ariosto.
+Ascabart plays a part in the old English metrical romance of Sir Bevis
+of Hampton.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_580" name="note1_580">580</a>. <span class="bold">To whom, though more than kindred knew.</span> This is a very obscure
+expression for Scott, who is usually so careful to make himself clear.
+The meaning seems to be: Ellen regarded her as a mother, though that was
+more than the actual kinship of the two justified (literally "knew how
+to recognize").</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_591" name="note1_591">591</a>. <span class="bold">Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James.</span> As appears later in the
+poem, these were not his true name and title, though he was entitled to
+bear them.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_622" name="note1_622">622</a>. <span class="bold">a harp unseen.</span> In modern Scotland the bagpipe has altogether
+taken the place of the harp. A writer of the sixteenth century says:
+"They (the Highlanders) take great delight to deck their harps with
+silver and precious stones; the poor ones that cannot attain thereunto
+deck them with crystal. They sing verses prettily compounded (i.e.,
+composed) containing for the most part praises of valiant men."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span><a href="#line1_638" name="note1_638">638</a>. <span class="bold">pibroch.</span> (Pronounced pee-brock.) A wild tumultuous tune played on
+the bagpipes in the onset of battle.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_642" name="note1_642">642</a>. <span class="bold">bittern.</span> A wading bird, allied to the heron.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line1_657" name="note1_657">657</a>. <span class="bold">reveillé.</span> As the rhyme shows, this word is pronounced
+<span class="italic">reh-vail'yah</span> here. The common pronunciation in the United States is
+<span class="italic">rev-a-lee'</span>. It is the drum-beat or bugle-call at dawn to arouse
+soldiers.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CANTO SECOND</h3>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_1" name="note2_1">1</a>. <span class="bold">blackcock.</span> See note to I, <a href="#note1_440">440</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_7" name="note2_7">7</a>. <span class="bold">minstrel grey.</span> Until well on in the eighteenth century it was
+customary for Highland chieftains to keep in their service a bard, whose
+chief duty it was to sing the exploits of the ancestors of the line.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_69" name="note2_69">69</a>. <span class="bold">Lead forth his fleet.</span> What kind of figure is contained in the word
+<span class="italic">fleet</span> as applied to the flock of ducks?</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_131" name="note2_131">131</a>. <span class="bold">harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed.</span> St. Modan was not a harper,
+as Scott elsewhere ingenuously confesses, adding, however, that "Saint
+Dunstan certainly did play upon that instrument."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_141" name="note2_141">141</a>. <span class="bold">Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall.</span> The minstrel tries
+to account for the strange way in which his harp gives back mournful
+sounds instead of the joyous ones he is trying to evoke, by calling to
+Ellen's mind two other occasions when it behaved similarly. One of these
+was when it foreboded the death of Ellen's mother; the other when it
+foreboded the exile of the Douglasses during the minority of James V.
+For particulars, see the introduction on the historical setting of the
+poem. Bothwell Castle is on the Clyde, a few miles from Glasgow.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_159" name="note2_159">159</a>. <span class="bold">From Tweed to Spey.</span> The Tweed is in the extreme southern part,
+the Spey in the northern part, of Scotland.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_200" name="note2_200">200</a>. <span class="bold">Lady of the Bleeding Heart.</span> The minstrel calls Ellen so because a
+bleeding heart was the heraldic emblem of the Douglas family.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_206" name="note2_206">206</a>. <span class="bold">strathspey.</span> A dance, named from the district of Strath Spey, in
+the north of Scotland. It resembled the reel, but was slower.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_213" name="note2_213">213</a>. <span class="bold">Clan-Alpine's pride.</span> Clan Alpine was the collective name of the
+followers of Roderick Dhu, who figures later in the poem as Ellen's
+rejected suitor and the enemy of the mysterious "Knight of Snowdoun" who
+has just taken his departure from the island.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span><a href="#line2_216" name="note2_216">216</a>. <span class="bold">Lennox foray.</span> Lennox is the district south of Menteith, in the
+Lowlands. It was the scene of innumerable forays and "cattle-drives."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_221" name="note2_221">221</a>. <span class="bold">In Holy-Rood a knight he slew.</span> Holyrood is the royal castle at
+Edinburgh, where the court usually was held. It was deemed a heinous and
+desperate offense to commit an act of blood in the royal residence or
+its immediate neighborhood, since such an act was an indirect violation
+of the majesty of the king, and a breaking of "the king's peace." It was
+for this offense that Roderick Dhu was exiled, and compelled to live
+like an outlaw in his mountain fastness.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_227" name="note2_227">227</a>. <span class="bold">Who else dared give.</span> Notice how skilfully Scott manages to give
+us the relations of the chief characters of the poem to each other, and
+to show that Ellen's father, pursued by the hatred of James V, has been
+given the island shelter in Loch Katrine by Roderick Dhu who is about to
+make his appearance in the story.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_236" name="note2_236">236</a>. <span class="bold">Full soon may dispensation sought.</span> A papal dispensation was
+necessary, because Ellen and Roderick Dhu were cousins. See next note.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_249" name="note2_249">249</a>. <span class="bold">All that a mother could bestow.</span> Here again the poet takes the
+indirect way of making clear his point, namely that the matron
+introduced in the first canto is the mother of Roderick Dhu. The phrase
+"an orphan in the wild," is in apposition with the following phrase "her
+sister's child"&mdash;i.e., Ellen herself. From this it appears that Lady
+Margaret is Ellen's aunt, and that Roderick Dhu is, therefore, Ellen's
+cousin.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_260" name="note2_260">260</a>. <span class="bold">Maronnan's cell.</span> A chapel at the eastern extremity of Loch
+Lomond, dedicated to the rather obscure saint here named.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_270" name="note2_270">270</a>. <span class="bold">Bracklinn's thundering wave.</span> The reference is to a cascade made
+by a mountain torrent at the Bridge of Bracklinn, near the village of
+Callender in Menteith. Notice how Scott's numerous references to places
+in the region where the poem is laid tend gradually to give us an idea
+of the richness and diversity of the landscape.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_274" name="note2_274">274</a>. <span class="bold">claymore.</span> A large two-handed sword.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_305" name="note2_305">305</a>. <span class="bold">Thy father's battle-brand.</span> Some swords, especially those which
+had been magically forged, were held to possess the property of drawing
+themselves from their scabbard at the approach of their owner's deadly
+enemy. This is the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> first vague hint which Scott gives us as to the real
+identity of the "Knight of Snowdoun." To throw a further glamor of
+romance about the prophetical weapon, he tells us that it was given by
+fairies to an ancestor of its present owner, namely, to Archibald, third
+Duke of Angus, called Tine-man (Loseman) because he always lost his men
+in battle, and that this gift was made while Archibald was in league
+with Harry Hotspur.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_319" name="note2_319">319</a>. <span class="bold">Beltane game.</span> The sports of May Day.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_327" name="note2_327">327</a>. <span class="bold">canna.</span> Cotton grass.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_331" name="note2_331">Stanza XVI</a>. In this and the two following stanzas notice how skillfully
+description and narrative are woven together, and how the picture gains
+in detail and distinctness as the boats approach.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_334" name="note2_334">334</a>. <span class="bold">barges.</span> What change has occurred in the use of this word?</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_335" name="note2_335">335</a>. <span class="bold">Glengyle ... Brianchoil.</span> Why does the poet introduce these proper
+names? Are they of any value as information?</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_343" name="note2_343">343</a>. <span class="bold">tartans.</span> See note to I, xix, <a href="#note1_363">363</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_395" name="note2_395">395</a>. <span class="bold">The chorus first could Allan know.</span> The chorus was the first part
+of the song which the harper, listening from the shore, could distinctly
+make out.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_408" name="note2_408">408</a>. <span class="bold">Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu.</span> The words <span class="italic">vich</span> and <span class="italic">dhu</span> are Gaelic,
+the first meaning "descendant of," the second "black or swarthy." King
+Alpine was the half-mythical ancestor from whom the clan of Alpine
+sprung. The line means, therefore, "Black Roderick, descendant of
+Alpine." Compare II, xii, <a href="#line2_220">220</a>, where Allan-bane calls the chieftain
+"Black Sir Roderick."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_410" name="note2_410">410</a>. <span class="bold">Blooming at Beltane.</span> See note to II, <a href="#note2_319">319</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_416" name="note2_416">416</a>. <span class="bold">Breadalbane.</span> A large district in the western part of the county
+of Perth.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_419" name="note2_419">419</a>&ndash;426. <span class="bold">Glen Fruin, Bannochar, Glenn Luss, Ross-dhu, Leven-glen.</span>
+What, in simple language, should you say was the value of this array of
+obscure names in the song?</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_431" name="note2_431">431</a>. <span class="bold">the rose-bud that graces yon islands.</span> To whom do the singers
+metaphorically refer?</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_497" name="note2_497">497</a>. <span class="bold">Percy's Norman pennon.</span> Captured by the Douglas in the raid which
+led to the battle of Otterburn, as celebrated in the old ballad of Chevy
+Chase. (Sprague.)</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_504" name="note2_504">504</a>. <span class="bold">The waned crescent.</span> This may be taken as referring to some
+victory over the Turkish armies in the East,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> or to the defeat of
+Scott's ancestor, Sir Walter Scott of Buccleugh, who was defeated in an
+attempt to set the young king free from the Douglas. The shield of Sir
+Walter bore a crescent moon.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_506" name="note2_506">506</a>. <span class="bold">Blantyre.</span> A priory on the banks of the Clyde near Bothwell
+castle, of which ruins still remain.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_574" name="note2_574">574</a>. <span class="bold">Glenfinlas.</span> A valley to the northeast of Loch Katrine, between
+Ben-An and Ben-Ledi.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_577" name="note2_577">577</a>. <span class="bold">royal ward.</span> Malcolm, as a minor, was still under the king's
+guardianship.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_583" name="note2_583">583</a>. <span class="bold">Strath-Endrick glen.</span> A valley on the southeast of Loch Lomond,
+presumably Malcolm's home.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_623" name="note2_623">623</a>&ndash;625. <span class="bold">The Meggat</span>, the <span class="bold">Yarrow</span>, and the <span class="bold">Ettrick</span> are successive
+tributaries, the waters of which eventually reach the Tweed. The Teviot
+is also a tributary of the Tweed. All five rivers are in the southern
+part of Scotland.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_678" name="note2_678">678</a>. <span class="bold">Links of Forth.</span> Banks of the river Forth. In general the word
+"links" means flat or undulating stretches of sandy soil, partially
+covered with grass or heather.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_692" name="note2_692">692</a>. <span class="bold">There are who have.</span> How does this differ from the prose idiom?</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_801" name="note2_801">801</a>. <span class="bold">pity 'twere such cheek should feel the midnight air.</span> Was there
+anything in the Highland character and training which would make these
+words seem particularly cutting? Notice how the insult is deepened later
+by the assumption on Rhoderick Dhu's part that Malcolm is capable of
+treachery toward Douglas and the Clan of Alpine.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_809" name="note2_809">809</a>. <span class="bold">henchman.</span> This word is said to have been originally "haunch-man"
+because it was the duty of this retainer to stand beside his master's
+chair (at his haunches as it were) at the feast, in readiness to do his
+bidding or to defend him if attacked.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line2_831" name="note2_831">831</a>. <span class="bold">Fiery Cross.</span> The signal for the gathering of the clan to war. The
+preparation and carrying abroad of this cross is described in the next
+canto.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CANTO THIRD</h3>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_39" name="note3_39">39</a>. <span class="bold">cushat dove.</span> Better known as the ringdove.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_63" name="note3_63">63</a>. <span class="bold">shivers.</span> "Slivers" is the more common word, but the verb "to
+shiver," meaning to break in pieces, keeps the original meaning.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span><a href="#line3_74" name="note3_74">74</a>. <span class="bold">Benharrow.</span> This mountain is near the north end of Loch Lomond.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_87" name="note3_87">87</a>. <span class="bold">strath.</span> A wide open valley, distinguished from a glen, which is
+narrow.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_104" name="note3_104">104</a>. <span class="bold">fieldfare.</span> A species of thrush.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_116" name="note3_116">116</a>. <span class="bold">virgin snood.</span> See note to I, <a href="#note1_363">363</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_154" name="note3_154">154</a>. <span class="bold">River Demon.</span> Concerning this creature Scott gives the current
+observation: "The River Demon, or River-horse, is an evil spirit,
+delighting to forebode and witness calamity. He frequents most Highland
+lakes and rivers; and one of his most memorable exploits was performed
+upon the banks of Loch Vennachar: it consisted in the destruction of a
+bridal party with all its attendants."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_156" name="note3_156">156</a>. <span class="bold">noontide hag.</span> A gigantic emaciated female figure which, contrary
+to the general rule of ghostly creatures, appeared in the full blaze of
+noon.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_168" name="note3_168">168</a>. <span class="bold">Ben-Shie's boding scream.</span> The ben-shie or banshee was a tutelar
+spirit, supposed to forebode by midnight howlings the death of a member
+of a family to which it was attached. The superstition is still
+prevalent in Ireland.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_191" name="note3_191">191</a>. <span class="bold">Inch-Cailliach.</span> An island in Loch Lomond, used as a place of
+burial for several neighboring clans, of whom the descendants of King
+Alpine were the chief. The name means "Isle of Nuns," or "Isle of Old
+Women."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_199" name="note3_199">Stanza IX</a>. Notice the change in the rime system which marks the break
+from flowing narrative to solemn dramatic speech, and is continued
+through the stanza to increase the effect of solemnity.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_253" name="note3_253">253</a>. <span class="bold">Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave.</span> This cave and the pass of
+Beala-nam-bo were on the slopes of Ben Venue, a mountain near Loch
+Katrine. See notes to <a href="#note3_622">622</a> and <a href="#note3_664">664</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_286" name="note3_286">286</a>. <span class="bold">Lanrick mead.</span> This meadow is still pointed out to the traveler on
+the road from Loch Vennachar to the Trossachs.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_300" name="note3_300">300</a>. <span class="bold">dun deer's hide.</span> It was their shoes made of untanned deer's hide,
+with the hair outwards, which gave the Highlander's their nickname,
+"Red-shanks."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_349" name="note3_349">349</a>. <span class="bold">Duncraggan.</span> A village between Loch Achray and Loch Vennachar.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_369" name="note3_369">369</a>. <span class="bold">coronach.</span> Death-song.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_386" name="note3_386">386</a>. <span class="bold">correi.</span> Scott explains this as "the hollow side of the hill,
+where game usually lies."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_387" name="note3_387">387</a>. <span class="bold">cumber.</span> Trouble, perplexity.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span><a href="#line3_394" name="note3_394">394</a>. <span class="bold">Stumah.</span> The name of a dog, signifying "faithful."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_461" name="note3_461">461</a>. <span class="bold">chapel of St. Bride.</span> This chapel stood on the knoll of
+Strath-Ire, mentioned at the beginning of the stanza, halfway up the
+pass of Leny. Scott is singularly careful not to take liberties with the
+geography of the localities where his story is laid.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_468" name="note3_468">468</a>. <span class="bold">pole-ax.</span> An old weapon consisting of a broad ax-head fastened to
+a long pole, with a prick at the back.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_480" name="note3_480">480</a>. <span class="bold">Tombea's Mary.</span> Tombea and Armandave are names of places in the
+vicinity of Strath-Ire.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_546" name="note3_546">546</a>. <span class="bold">bracken.</span> Fern.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_570" name="note3_570">570</a>. <span class="bold">Balquidder.</span> The braes of Balquidder extended west from Loch Voil,
+to the northward of the scene of the poem. <span class="bold">midnight blaze.</span> The heather
+on the moorlands is often set on fire by the shepherds in order that new
+herbage may spring up.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_578" name="note3_578">578</a>. <span class="bold">Loch Voil</span>, etc. This and the following names are of poetic value
+in suggesting tangibly the rapid passage of the runner from place to
+place.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_622" name="note3_622">622</a>. <span class="bold">Coir-nan-Uriskin.</span> Scott says that this name, signifying "Den of
+the Shaggy Men," was derived from the mythical inhabitants of the place,
+creatures half man and half goat, resembling the satyrs of classical
+mythology.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_641" name="note3_641">641</a>. <span class="bold">still</span>, stillness. Can you instance other cases of the use of
+adjective for noun?</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_656" name="note3_656">656</a>. <span class="bold">satyrs.</span> See note to <a href="#note3_622">622</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_664" name="note3_664">664</a>. <span class="bold">Beal-nam-bo.</span> The name signifies "Pass of cattle." It is described
+as a "most magnificent glade, overhung with aged birch-trees, a little
+higher up the mountains than the Coir-nan-Uriskin."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line3_672" name="note3_672">672</a>. <span class="bold">A single page, to bear his sword.</span> The sword bearer, like the
+henchman and the bard, was a regular officer attached to the person of a
+Highland Chief. He was called in Gaelic "Gilliemore," or sword-man.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CANTO FOURTH</h3>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_19" name="note4_19">19</a>. <span class="bold">Braes of Doune.</span> Doune is a village on the Teith, a few miles
+northwest of Stirling. The word "brae" means slope or declivity; the
+braes of Doune stretch away east and north from the village.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_36" name="note4_36">36</a>. <span class="bold">boune.</span> An obsolete word meaning "prepared."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_63" name="note4_63">63</a>. <span class="bold">Taghairm.</span> The word means "Augury of the Hide."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span><a href="#line4_68" name="note4_68">68</a>. <span class="bold">When swept our merrymen Gallangad.</span> The reference is to one of the
+forays or "cattledrives" which the Highland chiefs were fond of making
+at the expense of their neighbors. The situation of Gallangad is now
+unknown, but it was presumably a portion of the Lennox district.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_73" name="note4_73">73</a>. <span class="bold">kerns.</span> The kern or cateran of the Highlands was a light-armed
+infantryman, as opposed to the heavy-armed "gallowglass."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_78" name="note4_78">78</a>. <span class="bold">scatheless.</span> Without fear of injury, because of the weariness of
+the animal after the march.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_82" name="note4_82">82</a>. <span class="bold">boss.</span> The word means knob or protuberance, especially that in the
+center of a shield. What the boss of a cliff can be it is a little
+difficult to understand.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_98" name="note4_98">98</a>. <span class="bold">watching while the deer is broke.</span> The cutting up of the deer and
+allotting of the various portions was technically known as the
+"breaking" of the deer. A certain gristly portion was given, by long
+custom, to the birds, and came to be known as "the raven's bone."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_140" name="note4_140">140</a>. <span class="bold">A spy has sought my land.</span> Roderick refers, as appears later, to
+the "Knight of Snowdoun" of Canto I.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_150" name="note4_150">150</a>. <span class="bold">glaive</span>, sword.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_153" name="note4_153">153</a>. <span class="bold">sable pale.</span> An heraldic term, applied to a black perpendicular
+stripe in a coat of arms.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_174" name="note4_174">174</a>. <span class="bold">stance</span>, station, foundation.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_231" name="note4_231">231</a>. <span class="bold">Cambus-kenneth's fane.</span> The ruins of Cambus-kenneth Abbey are
+still to be seen on the banks of the Forth near Stirling.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_262" name="note4_262">262</a>. <span class="bold">mavis and merle</span>, thrush and blackbird.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_283" name="note4_283">283</a>. <span class="bold">darkling was the battle tried.</span> Scott first wrote "blindfold" in
+place of "darkling."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_285" name="note4_285">285</a>. <span class="bold">pall.</span> A rich cloth, from which mantles of noblemen were made.
+<span class="bold">Vair.</span> A fur much used for the garments of nobility in medieval times.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_298" name="note4_298">298</a>. <span class="bold">wonn'd</span>, an obsolete equivalent of "dwelt."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_306" name="note4_306">306</a>. <span class="bold">fairies' fatal green.</span> The elves or gnomes wore green, and were
+angered when any mortal ventured to wear that color. For this or some
+other reason green was held an unlucky color in many parts of Scotland.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_308" name="note4_308">308</a>. <span class="bold">thou wert christened man.</span> Urgan, as appears later, was a mortal,
+who had fallen under the spell of the elves and lived their life, but
+who still retained some of the privileges and immunities which belonged,
+according to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> medieval belief, to all persons who had been baptized into
+the Christian church.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_371" name="note4_371">371</a>. <span class="bold">Dunfermline.</span> An Abbey sixteen miles northwest of Edinburgh.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_385" name="note4_385">385</a>. <span class="bold">my former guide.</span> This is Red Murdoch, of whom Roderick Dhu
+speaks, see <a href="#line4_144">144</a> ff.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_531" name="note4_531">531</a>. The <span class="bold">Allan</span> and the <span class="bold">Devan</span> are two streams which descend from the
+hills of Perthshire into the lowland plain.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_555" name="note4_555">555</a>. <span class="bold">from Maudlin's charge.</span> Maudlin, as a proper name, is a corruption
+of Magdalen. The curious development of meaning which has taken place in
+the word should be looked out in the dictionary.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_559" name="note4_559">559</a>. <span class="bold">peasant pitched a bar.</span> "Pitching the bar" was a feat of strength
+like the modern "putting the shot." It was usually indulged in by the
+peasantry at fairs and on the village greens.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_564" name="note4_564">564</a>. <span class="bold">that savage groom.</span> The mad woman refers to Red Murdoch, the
+guide.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line4_594" name="note4_594">594</a>. <span class="bold">a stag of ten.</span> With ten branches on his antlers.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CANTO FIFTH</h3>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_46" name="note5_46">46</a>. <span class="bold">shingles</span>, declivities or "slides" of small broken stone.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_124" name="note5_124">124</a>. <span class="bold">While Albany with feeble hand.</span> After the death of James IV at
+Flodden Field the regency was held first by the mother of the young
+king, and then by the Duke of Albany. The latter was forced by the
+Estates to leave Scotland in 1624, and soon after the regency fell
+practically, though, not constitutionally, into the hands of the king's
+step-father, Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus. See introduction on the
+historical setting of the poem.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_198" name="note5_198">198</a>. <span class="bold">curlew.</span> A shore-bird, with a long curved bill.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_253" name="note5_253">253</a>. <span class="bold">jack.</span> A coat of mail made of leather or heavy padded cloth.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_301" name="note5_301">301</a>. <span class="bold">On Bochastle the moldering lines, etc.</span> East of Lake Vennachar, in
+the moor of Bochastle, are some traces of the Roman occupation, in the
+form of mounds and intrenchments.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_409" name="note5_409">409</a>. <span class="bold">mountain-cat.</span> "Catamount" is the common name in America.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_461" name="note5_461">461</a>. <span class="bold">palfrey.</span> A saddle-horse as distinguished from a war-horse.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span><a href="#line5_465" name="note5_465">465</a>. <span class="bold">weed</span>, garment. The word is now restricted to the phrase "widow's
+weeds."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_490" name="note5_490">490</a>&ndash;497. <span class="bold">Torry</span>, <span class="bold">Lendrick</span>, <span class="bold">Deanstown</span>, <span class="bold">Doune</span>, <span class="bold">Blair-Drummond</span>,
+<span class="bold">Ochtertyre</span>, and <span class="bold">Kier</span>, are all on the Teith, between Bochastle and
+Sterling.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_525" name="note5_525">525</a>. <span class="bold">by Saint Serle.</span> The necessities of rime compel the poet to choose
+a very obscure saint from the calendar.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_532" name="note5_532">532</a>. <span class="bold">postern gate</span>, the small rear gate of a castle, generally used by
+the servants only.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_584" name="note5_584">584</a>. <span class="bold">jennet.</span> A small Spanish horse, originally a cross between native
+and Arabian stock.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_611" name="note5_611">611</a>. <span class="bold">morricers</span>, morrice dancers. The morrice or morris was an old
+dance, imported into England from Spain. Believed to be a corruption of
+"Moorish."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_613" name="note5_613">613</a>. <span class="bold">butts</span>, the targets for archery practice.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_614" name="note5_614">614</a>. <span class="bold">Bold Robin Hood and all his band.</span> It is of course not meant that
+the renowned outlaw himself and his followers were there, but
+masqueraders representing these traditional characters. All the names
+that follow occur in one or other of the legends and ballads which
+gathered about Robin Hood's name.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_622" name="note5_622">622</a>. <span class="bold">the white</span>, i.e., the white center of the target.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_660" name="note5_660">660</a>. <span class="bold">Ladies Rock.</span> A hillock between the Castle and Grayfriar's church,
+from which the court ladies viewed the games.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line5_872" name="note5_872">872</a>. <span class="bold">lily lawn.</span> A conventional phrase in old ballad poetry, without
+any very definite meaning.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CANTO SIXTH</h3>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_42" name="note6_42">42</a>. <span class="bold">harness</span>, armor and other war gear.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_60" name="note6_60">60</a>. <span class="bold">halberd</span>, a weapon consisting of a battle-ax and pike at the end of
+a long staff. <span class="bold">brand</span>, a poetical word for sword.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_92" name="note6_92">92</a>. <span class="bold">black-jack</span>, a large drinking can of tarred or waxed leather.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_95" name="note6_95">95</a>. <span class="bold">Drink upsees out.</span> "Upsees" is a corruption of a Dutch Bacchanalian
+interjection.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_103" name="note6_103">103</a>. <span class="bold">cure.</span> Parish or charge. <span class="bold">placket.</span> Petticoat.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_104" name="note6_104">104</a>. <span class="bold">lurch</span>, swindle, leave in difficulty.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_306" name="note6_306">306</a>. <span class="bold">prore</span>, poetical form of "prow."</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_377" name="note6_377">377</a>. <span class="bold">erne</span>, eagle.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_427" name="note6_427">Stanza XVII</a>. Notice how both rime and rhythm mirror the growing
+excitement of the conflict.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span><a href="#line6_452" name="note6_452">452</a>. <span class="bold">As their Tinchel cows the game.</span> The "Tinchel" was a circle of
+hunters, surrounding a herd of deer and gradually closing in on them.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_488" name="note6_488">488</a>. <span class="bold">linn</span>, the word here means waterfall.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_586" name="note6_586">586</a>. <span class="bold">Bothwell's lord</span>, Douglas. See note to II, xiii, <a href="#note2_141">141</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#line6_591" name="note6_591">591</a>. <span class="bold">How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy.</span> "Brooked" is not used in its
+strong sense of "endured," but in the weaker one of "received"; we
+should say colloquially "how he took it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<h2>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>
+APPENDIX</h2>
+
+<p>(Adapted, and enlarged, from the <span class="italic">Manual for the Study of English
+Classics</span>, by George L. Marsh)</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="HELPS_TO_STUDY" id="HELPS_TO_STUDY"></a>HELPS TO STUDY</h3>
+
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Life of Scott</span></h4>
+
+<p>What prominent traits of Scott's character can be traced to his
+ancestors (pp. <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>How did he regard the members of his clan, especially the chief (pp. <a href="#Page_19">19</a>,
+<a href="#Page_20">20</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>What characteristic is represented in his refusal to learn Latin and
+Greek at school?</p>
+
+<p>What was his own method of obtaining an education? In what did he become
+proficient (p. <a href="#Page_12">12</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>How did he regard his legal studies? How did they benefit him in his
+later work?</p>
+
+<p>How was he first interested in ballad-writing?</p>
+
+<p>Tell of the composition, publication, and popularity of his first poems
+(pp. <a href="#Page_20">20</a> ff.).</p>
+
+<p>In what business venture did he become involved, and what was the final
+outcome? What defect in his character is it charged that his business
+relations brought to light (pp. <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>Tell of the composition of his novels. Why were they published
+incognito?</p>
+
+<p>What can you say of his last years and his struggle to pay off the debts
+incurred by his connection with Ballantyne?</p>
+
+
+<h4><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>
+<span class="smcap">Scott and the Romantic Movement</span></h4>
+
+<p>What is meant by the "Romantic Movement"? What four men were chiefly
+instrumental in bringing about this revolution in English poetry (p.
+<a href="#Page_40">40</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>What was the influence of Scott's poetry on the age in comparison with
+that of his chief contemporaries? Give the reasons (p. <a href="#Page_41">41</a>).</p>
+
+<p>What were the distinguishing qualities of the literature of the
+eighteenth century? Illustrate these by examples from Pope or any other
+poet that you choose from that period, and put them into contrast with
+the qualities of the romantic poets. Does Scott's style differ greatly
+from that of the poets of the preceding century?</p>
+
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">The Lady of the Lake&mdash;Construction</span></h4>
+
+<p>Is there anything that has taken place before the opening of the poem
+that has to be understood for a thorough appreciation of the story (p.
+<a href="#Page_46">46</a>)? How are the previous fortunes of the Douglas family related (pp.
+<a href="#Page_96">96</a>&ndash;98)?</p>
+
+<p>What purpose in the plot does the Minstrel serve throughout?</p>
+
+<p>What do you think of the opening?</p>
+
+<p>Does the chase serve merely to furnish an opportunity for the
+description?</p>
+
+<p>Is the action rapid or slow? How is it often retarded?</p>
+
+<p>For what are the songs introduced?</p>
+
+<p>Note the transition from stanza X to XI (p. <a href="#Page_66">66</a>); from XVI to XVII (p.
+<a href="#Page_71">71</a>); from XXIV to XXV (p. <a href="#Page_144">144</a>); and many others.</p>
+
+<p>How many cases of concealed identity are there in the poem? Does this
+turning of the plot on mistaken identity make it seem unreal? Show in
+each case where the identity is exposed and where hints have been given
+beforehand of the real identity.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>Is there any intimation of the identity of Ellen and her father in lines
+<a href="#line1_565">565</a>&ndash;7, page <a href="#Page_81">81</a>; lines <a href="#line1_728">728</a>&ndash;39, page <a href="#Page_87">87</a>?</p>
+
+<p>What is the purpose of Fitz-James's dream (p. <a href="#Page_86">86</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>What is the first hint of Ellen's love story and the name of her lover
+(pp. <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>When is Roderick Dhu first mentioned (p. <a href="#Page_96">96</a>)? In what light?</p>
+
+<p>Where are the relations of Ellen with Roderick and with Malcolm further
+discussed (p. <a href="#Page_98">98</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>To whom is the reference in lines <a href="#line2_732">732</a>&ndash;34, page <a href="#Page_116">116</a>?</p>
+
+<p>What action does the struggle between Roderick and Malcolm motive?</p>
+
+<p>How does Canto Third advance the plot? What is its poetical value (p.
+<a href="#Page_56">56</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>What purpose does Brian serve?</p>
+
+<p>Does the prophecy (p. <a href="#Page_157">157</a>) heighten the dramatic effect of the following
+scene (see p. <a href="#Page_196">196</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>For what are lines <a href="#line4_138">138</a>&ndash;47, page <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, a preparation (p. <a href="#Page_168">168</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>What is the purpose of the Ballad of Alice Brand (pp. <a href="#Page_162">162</a> ff.)?</p>
+
+<p>What other results of Scott's early interest in ballad literature can
+you point out in <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span>?</p>
+
+<p>Does the warning of James by the song of mad Blanche seem improbable?</p>
+
+<p>What is the purpose of the long speeches between James and Roderick in
+the dramatic scene following Roderick's calling of his men?</p>
+
+<p>Does the combat between James and Roderick (pp. <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>) seem a real
+fight?</p>
+
+<p>Why was Roderick preserved to die in the castle at Stirling?</p>
+
+<p>Are lines <a href="#line5_519">519</a>&ndash;30, page <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, an artistic preparation for the following
+scene?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>How do the games in the Castle park hasten the plot to its end?</p>
+
+<p>How is the fight between Clan-Alpine and the Earl of Mar described?</p>
+
+<p>How much of the action takes place outside the poem and is related?</p>
+
+<p>Note the use of the supernatural (p. <a href="#Page_239">239</a>). Does it seem impressive?</p>
+
+<p>Is the conclusion sustained and dramatic?</p>
+
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Description</span></h4>
+
+<p>Are the nature descriptions given for scenic effect, or do they serve as
+a background and setting for the story?</p>
+
+<p>Does Scott employ incidents of plot for the sake of dragging in
+descriptions?</p>
+
+<p>Which is the best in the poem: nature description, plot construction,
+character, description, or the portrayal of old life and customs?</p>
+
+<p>Is the descriptive language suggestive?</p>
+
+<p>Are the landscape scenes given minutely, or are they drawn broadly, with
+a free hand?</p>
+
+<p>Does Scott keep closely to the geography of the region of his tale (see
+map, p. <a href="#MAP">6</a>, and note <a href="#note3_461">461</a>, p. <a href="#Page_259">259</a>)?</p>
+
+<p>Perry Pictures 912&ndash;17 (from Landseer's paintings of deer) and 1511 (Ben
+Lomond) may be used in illustration of <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span>.</p>
+
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Characters</span></h4>
+
+<p>Are the characters distinctly drawn&mdash;do they seem real people of flesh
+and blood?</p>
+
+<p>How is Ellen's character displayed?</p>
+
+<p>Do you feel any sympathy for Roderick Dhu? Does your impression of his
+character improve (pp. <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, and <a href="#Page_241">241</a>)?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>Was Douglas an historical character?</p>
+
+<p>Is the character of James Fitz-James true to James V of Scotland?</p>
+
+<p>Is Allan-bane representative of the place in the ancient Scottish clan
+which the minstrel had?</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="THEME_SUBJECTS" id="THEME_SUBJECTS"></a>THEME SUBJECTS</h3>
+
+<p>1. Scott's boyhood (with emphasis on the cultivation of characteristics
+displayed in his poems; pp. <a href="#Page_10">10</a>&ndash;12).</p>
+
+<p>2. Scott as a landed proprietor (pp. <a href="#Page_27">27</a>&ndash;33). This may well take the form
+of an imaginary visit to Abbotsford.</p>
+
+<p>3. Scott in business (pp. <a href="#Page_23">23</a>&ndash;25, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>&ndash;36). Compare his struggle against
+debt with Mark Twain's.</p>
+
+<p>4. The historical setting of <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span> (pp. <a href="#Page_46">46</a>&ndash;48).</p>
+
+<p>5. A visit to the scene of <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span>.</p>
+
+<p>6. Summary of the action; as a whole, or by parts (cantos or other
+logical divisions).</p>
+
+<p>7. Character sketches of Fitz-James, Roderick Dhu, Ellen, Malcolm,
+Douglas.</p>
+
+<p>8. Highland customs reflected in the poem (pp. <a href="#Page_129">129</a> ff., <a href="#Page_253">253</a>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>, etc.).</p>
+
+<p>9. The use of the Minstrel in the poem.</p>
+
+<p>10. The interpolated lyrics&mdash;what purposes do they, respectively, serve?</p>
+
+<p>11. Descriptions of scenes resembling, in one way or another, attractive
+scenes depicted in <span class="italic">The Lady of the Lake</span>.</p>
+
+<p>12. Soldier life in Stirling Castle (pp. <a href="#Page_219">219</a> ff.).</p>
+
+<p>13. Contrast feudal warfare (especially as shown on pp. <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>) with
+modern warfare.</p>
+
+<p>14. Show, by selected passages, Scott's veneration for the ideals of
+feudalism (pp. <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>, etc.).</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>15. Rewrite the scene of the combat between Roderick and Fitz-James (pp.
+<a href="#Page_198">198</a>&ndash;200) in the prose style of Scott as in the tournament scene in
+<span class="italic">Ivanhoe</span>.</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="SELECTIONS_FOR_CLASS_READING" id="SELECTIONS_FOR_CLASS_READING"></a>
+SELECTIONS FOR CLASS READING</h3>
+
+<p>1. The chase (pp. <a href="#Page_60">60</a>&ndash;65).</p>
+
+<p>2. The Trossachs (pp. <a href="#Page_66">66</a>&ndash;68).</p>
+
+<p>3. Ellen (pp. <a href="#Page_72">72</a>&ndash;74).</p>
+
+<p>4. Ellen's song (pp. <a href="#Page_83">83</a>&ndash;85).</p>
+
+<p>5. Roderick's arrival (pp. <a href="#Page_100">100</a>&ndash;105).</p>
+
+<p>6. Roderick's proposal (pp. <a href="#Page_113">113</a>&ndash;118).</p>
+
+<p>7. The consecration of the bloody cross (pp. <a href="#Page_128">128</a>&ndash;132).</p>
+
+<p>8. The summoning of the clan (pp. <a href="#Page_132">132</a>&ndash;135).</p>
+
+<p>9. The Coronach (pp. <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>).</p>
+
+<p>10. Roderick overhears Ellen's song (pp. <a href="#Page_148">148</a>&ndash;149).</p>
+
+<p>11. The ballad of Alice Brand (pp. <a href="#Page_162">162</a>&ndash;167).</p>
+
+<p>12. Fitz-James and the mad woman (pp. <a href="#Page_172">172</a>&ndash;178).</p>
+
+<p>13. The hospitality of a Highlander (pp. <a href="#Page_180">180</a>&ndash;183).</p>
+
+<p>14. The hidden army (pp. <a href="#Page_191">191</a>&ndash;192).</p>
+
+<p>15. The combat (pp. <a href="#Page_195">195</a>&ndash;200).</p>
+
+<p>16. Douglas at the games (pp. <a href="#Page_207">207</a>&ndash;211).</p>
+
+<p>17. The speech of Douglas (pp. <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>).</p>
+
+<p>18. The Battle of Beal' an Duine (pp. <a href="#Page_232">232</a>&ndash;240).</p>
+
+<p>19. Fitz-James reveals himself to Ellen (pp. <a href="#Page_244">244</a>&ndash;249).</p>
+
+
+<h3>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>
+<a name="CLASSES_OF_POETRY" id="CLASSES_OF_POETRY"></a>
+CLASSES OF POETRY</h3>
+
+<p>It is important for the student of poetry to know the principal classes
+into which poems are divided. The following brief explanations do not
+pretend to be exhaustive, but they should be of practical aid. It must
+be remembered that a long poem is sometimes not very definitely of any
+one class, but combines characteristics of different classes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="italic">Narrative</span> poetry, like narrative prose, aims primarily to tell a
+story.</p>
+
+<p>The <span class="italic">epic</span> is the most pretentious kind of narrative poetry; it tells in
+serious verse of the great deeds of a popular hero. The <span class="italic">Iliad</span>, the
+<span class="italic">Aeneid</span>, <span class="italic">Beowulf</span>, <span class="italic">Paradise Lost</span> are important epics. The <span class="italic">Idylls of
+the King</span> is in the main an epic poem.</p>
+
+<p>The <span class="italic">metrical romance</span> is a rather long story in verse, of a less
+exalted and heroic character than the true epic. Scott's <span class="italic">Lady of the
+Lake</span> is a familiar example.</p>
+
+<p>The <span class="italic">verse tale</span> is shorter and likely to be less dignified and serious
+than the metrical romance. The stories in Chaucer's <span class="italic">Canterbury Tales</span>,
+or Burns's <span class="italic">Tam O'Shanter</span>, may serve as examples.</p>
+
+<p>The <span class="italic">ballad</span> is a narrative poem, usually rather short and in such form
+as to be sung. It is distinguished from a song by the fact that it tells
+a story. <span class="italic">Popular</span> or <span class="italic">folk</span> ballads are ancient and of unknown
+authorship&mdash;handed down by word of mouth and varied by the transmitters.
+<span class="italic">Artistic</span> ballads are imitations, by known poets, of traditional
+ballads.</p>
+
+<p><span class="italic">Descriptive</span> and <span class="italic">reflective</span> poems have characteristics sufficiently
+indicated by the adjectives in italics.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>The <span class="italic">pastoral</span> is a particular kind of descriptive and narrative poem in
+which the scene is laid in the country.</p>
+
+<p>The <span class="italic">idyll</span> is, according to the etymology of its name, a "little
+picture." Tennyson's <span class="italic">Idylls of the King</span> are rather more epic than
+idyllic in the strict sense of the term. The terms <span class="italic">idyll</span> and
+<span class="italic">pastoral</span> are not definitely discriminated.</p>
+
+<p><span class="italic">Lyric</span> poetry is poetry expressing personal feeling or emotion and in
+tuneful form. <span class="italic">Songs</span> are the simplest examples of lyric poetry; formal
+<span class="italic">odes</span>, such as Wordsworth's on "Immortality," the most elaborate. A
+lyric does not primarily tell a story, but it may imply one or refer to
+one.</p>
+
+<p>The <span class="italic">elegy</span> is a reflective lyric prompted by the death of some one.
+Tennyson's <span class="italic">In Memoriam</span> is a collection of elegiac lyrics.</p>
+
+<p>A <span class="italic">hymn</span> is a religious lyric.</p>
+
+<p><span class="italic">Dramatic</span> poetry presents human life in speech and action.</p>
+
+<p>A <span class="italic">tragedy</span> is a serious drama which presents its hero in a losing
+struggle ending in his death.</p>
+
+<p>A <span class="italic">comedy</span> does not end in death, and is usually cheerful and humorous.</p>
+
+<p>The <span class="italic">dramatic monologue</span> is a poem in which a dramatic situation is
+presented, or perhaps a story is told, by one speaker.</p>
+
+<p><span class="italic">Satire</span> in verse aims to correct abuses, to ridicule persons, etc.</p>
+
+<p><span class="italic">Didactic</span> poetry has the purpose of teaching.</p>
+
+
+<div class="tn">
+<h3><a name="corrections" id="corrections"></a>Transcriber's Note:</h3>
+
+<p>The following errors have been corrected in this text:</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_41">41</a>: added period after "Southey in 1774"</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_89">89</a>: put blank line between lines 18 and 19 of Canto Second</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_98">98</a>: moved line number 255 of Canto Second to correct position (in
+the original the line number was at line 254)</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_165">165</a>: changed "by their monarch's si" to "... side"</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_196">196</a>: changed "by" to "my" in "When foeman bade me draw my blade;"</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_212">212</a>: changed "shreik" to "shriek" in "the women shriek;"</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_253">253</a>: changed comma to period after "a harp unseen"</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_256">256</a>: changed "364" to "363" in note on line 343 of Canto Second</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_258">258</a>: changed "364" to "363" in note on line 116 of Canto Third</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_260">260</a>: added period after "150" in note on line 150 of Canto Fourth</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_262">262</a>: added period after "from the calendar"</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_262">262</a>: changed "Robinhood" to "Robin Hood" in "Bold Robin Hood and
+all his band."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_268">268</a>: changed "p. 5" to "p. 6" in question "Does Scott keep ..."</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lady of the Lake, by Sir Walter Scott
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lady of the Lake, by Sir Walter Scott
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Lady of the Lake
+
+Author: Sir Walter Scott
+
+Editor: William Vaughn Moody
+
+Release Date: March 9, 2009 [EBook #28287]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY OF THE LAKE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Brian Sogard, storm and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Obvious mistakes and punctuation errors have been corrected, but
+inconsistent spelling, punctuation and hyphenation has been retained.
+At the end of the text there is a list of the corrections that were
+made.
+
+Italic text is represented by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal
+signs=.
+
+The footnotes in the introduction have been moved to the end of their
+respective paragraphs, and have been renumbered for clarity.]
+
+
+The Lake English Classics
+
+_REVISED EDITION WITH HELPS TO STUDY_
+
+THE
+LADY OF THE LAKE
+
+BY
+
+SIR WALTER SCOTT
+
+EDITED FOR SCHOOL USE
+
+BY
+
+WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY
+
+SOMETIME ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH
+THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO
+
+
+SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY
+CHICAGO     ATLANTA     NEW YORK
+
+
+Copyright 1899, 1919
+By Scott, Foresman and Company
+
+292.46
+
+
+[Illustration: THE SCENE OF "THE LADY OF THE LAKE"]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                 PAGE
+Map                                                 6
+
+Introduction
+
+    I. Life of Scott                                9
+
+   II. Scott's Place in the Romantic Movement      39
+
+  III. The Lady of the Lake
+
+           Historical Setting                      46
+
+           General Criticism and Analysis          48
+
+Text                                               59
+
+Notes                                             251
+
+Appendix
+
+  Helps to Study                                  265
+
+  Theme Subjects                                  269
+
+  Selections for Class Reading                    270
+
+  Classes of Poetry                               271
+
+
+
+
+I. LIFE OF SCOTT
+
+
+I
+
+Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, August 15, 1771, of an ancient
+Scotch clan numbering in its time many a hard rider and good fighter,
+and more than one of these petty chieftains, half-shepherd and
+half-robber, who made good the winter inroads into their stock of beeves
+by spring forays and cattle drives across the English Border. Scott's
+great-grandfather was the famous "Beardie" of Harden, so called because
+after the exile of the Stuart sovereigns he swore never to cut his beard
+until they were reinstated; and several degrees farther back he could
+point to a still more famous figure, "Auld Wat of Harden," who with his
+fair dame, the "Flower of Yarrow," is mentioned in _The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel_. The first member of the clan to abandon country life and take
+up a sedentary profession, was Scott's father, who settled in Edinburgh
+as Writer to the Signet, a position corresponding in Scotland to that of
+attorney or solicitor in England. The character of this father, stern,
+scrupulous, Calvinistic, with a high sense of ceremonial dignity and a
+punctilious regard for the honorable conventions of life, united with
+the wilder ancestral strain to make Scott what he was. From "Auld Wat"
+and "Beardie" came his high spirit, his rugged manliness, his chivalric
+ideals; from the Writer to the Signet came that power of methodical
+labor which made him a giant among the literary workers of his day, and
+that delicate sense of responsibility which gave his private life its
+remarkable sweetness and beauty.
+
+At the age of eighteen months, Scott was seized with a teething fever
+which settled in his right leg and retarded its growth to such an extent
+that he was slightly lame for the rest of his life. Possibly this
+affliction was a blessing in disguise, since it is not improbable that
+Scott's love of active adventure would have led him into the army or the
+navy, if he had not been deterred by a bodily impediment; in which case
+English history might have been a gainer, but English literature would
+certainly have been immeasurably a loser. In spite of his lameness, the
+child grew strong enough to be sent on a long visit to his grandfather's
+farm at Sandyknowe; and here, lying among the sheep on the windy downs,
+playing about the romantic ruins of Smailholm Tower,[1] scampering
+through the heather on a tiny Shetland pony, or listening to stories of
+the thrilling past told by the old women of the farm, he drank in
+sensations which strengthened both the hardiness and the romanticism of
+his nature. A story is told of his being found in the fields during a
+thunder storm, clapping his hands at each flash of lightning, and
+shouting "Bonny! Bonny!"--a bit of infantile intrepidity which makes
+more acceptable a story of another sort illustrative of his mental
+precocity. A lady entering his mother's room found him reading aloud a
+description of a shipwreck, accompanying the words with excited comments
+and gestures. "There's the mast gone," he cried, "crash it goes; they
+will all perish!" The lady entered into his agitation with tact, and on
+her departure, he told his mother that he liked their visitor, because
+"she was a virtuoso, like himself." To her amused inquiry as to what a
+virtuoso might be, he replied: "Don't ye know? why, 'tis one who wishes
+to and will know everything."
+
+[Footnote: 1 See Scott's ballad "The Eve of St. John."]
+
+As a boy at school in Edinburgh and in Kelso, and afterwards as a
+student at the University and apprentice in his father's law office,
+Scott took his own way to become a "virtuoso"; a rather queer way it
+must sometimes have seemed to his good preceptors. He refused
+point-blank to learn Greek, and cared little for Latin. His scholarship
+was so erratic that he glanced meteor-like from the head to the foot of
+his classes and back again, according as luck gave or withheld the
+question to which his highly selective memory had retained the answer.
+But outside of school hours he was intensely at work to "know
+everything," so far as "everything" came within the bounds of his
+special tastes. Before he was ten years old he had begun to collect
+chap-books and ballads. As he grew older he read omnivorously in romance
+and history; at school he learned French for the sole purpose of knowing
+at first hand the fascinating cycles of old French romance; a little
+later he mastered Italian in order to read Dante and Ariosto, and to his
+schoolmaster's indignation stoutly championed the claim of the latter
+poet to superiority over Homer; a little later he acquired Spanish and
+read _Don Quixote_ in the original. With such efforts, however,
+considerable as they were for a boy who passionately loved a "bicker" in
+the streets and who was famed among his comrades for bravery in climbing
+the perilous "kittle nine stanes" on Castle Rock, he was not content.
+Nothing more conclusively shows the genuineness of Scott's romantic
+feeling than his willingness to undergo severe mental drudgery in
+pursuit of knowledge concerning the old storied days which had
+enthralled his imagination. It was no moonshine sentimentality which
+kept him hour after hour and day after day in the Advocate's Library,
+poring over musty manuscripts, deciphering heraldic devices, tracing
+genealogies, and unraveling obscure points of Scottish history. By the
+time he was twenty-one he had made himself, almost unconsciously, an
+expert paleographer and antiquarian, whose assistance was sought by
+professional workers in those branches of knowledge. Carlyle has charged
+against Scott that he poured out his vast floods of poetry and romance
+without preparation or forethought; that his production was always
+impromptu, and rooted in no sufficient past of acquisition. The charge
+cannot stand. From his earliest boyhood until his thirtieth year, when
+he began his brilliant career as poet and novelist, his life was one
+long preparation--very individual and erratic preparation, perhaps, but
+none the less earnest and fruitful.
+
+In 1792, Scott, then twenty-one years old, was admitted a member of the
+faculty of advocates of Edinburgh. During the five years which elapsed
+between this date and his marriage, his life was full to overflowing of
+fun and adventure, rich with genial companionship, and with experience
+of human nature in all its wild and tame varieties. Ostensibly he was a
+student of law, and he did, indeed, devote some serious attention to the
+mastery of his profession. But the dry formalities of legal life his
+keen humor would not allow him to take quite seriously. On the day when
+he was called to the bar, while waiting his turn among the other young
+advocates, he turned to his friend, William Clark, who had been called
+with him, and whispered, mimicking the Highland lasses who used to stand
+at the Cross of Edinburgh to be hired for the harvest: "We've stood here
+an hour by the Tron, hinny, and deil a ane has speered[2] our price."
+Though Scott never made a legal reputation, either as pleader at the
+bar or as an authority upon legal history and principles, it cannot be
+doubted that his experience in the Edinburgh courts was of immense
+benefit to him. In the first place, his study of the Scotch statutes,
+statutes which had taken form very gradually under the pressure of
+changing national conditions, gave him an insight into the politics and
+society of the past not otherwise to have been obtained. Of still more
+value, perhaps, was the association with his young companions in the
+profession, and daily contact with the racy personalities which
+traditionally haunt all courts of law, and particularly Scotch courts of
+law: the first association kept him from the affectation and
+sentimentality which is the bane of the youthful romanticist; and the
+second enriched his memory with many an odd figure afterward to take its
+place, clothed in the colors of a great dramatic imagination, upon the
+stage of his stories.
+
+[Footnote 2: Asked.]
+
+Added to these experiences, there were others equally calculated to
+enlarge his conception of human nature. Not the least among these he
+found in the brilliant literary and artistic society of Edinburgh, to
+which his mother's social position gave him entrance. Here, when only a
+lad, he met Robert Burns, then the pet and idol of the fashionable
+coteries of the capital. Here he heard Henry Mackenzie deliver a lecture
+on German literature which turned his attention to the romantic poetry
+of Germany and led directly to his first attempts at ballad-writing. But
+much more vital than any or all of these influences, were those endless
+walking-tours which alone or in company with a boon companion he took
+over the neighboring country-side--care-free, roystering expeditions,
+which he afterwards immortalized as Dandie Dinmont's "Liddesdale raids"
+in _Guy Mannering_. Thirty miles across country as the crow flies, with
+no objective point and no errand, a village inn or a shepherd's hut at
+night, with a crone to sing them an old ballad over the fire, or a group
+of hardy dalesmen to welcome them with stories and carousal--these were
+blithe adventurous days such as could not fail to ripen Scott's already
+ardent nature, and store his memory with genial knowledge. The account
+of Dandie Dinmont given by Mr. Shortreed may be taken as a picture, only
+too true in some of its touches, of Scott in these youthful escapades:
+"Eh me, ... sic an endless fund of humor and drollery as he had then wi'
+him. Never ten yards but we were either laughing or roaring and singing.
+Wherever we stopped how brawlie he suited himsel' to everybody! He aye
+did as the lave did; never made himsel' the great man or took ony airs
+in the company. I've seen him in a' moods in these jaunts, grave and
+gay, daft and serious, sober and drunk--(this, however, even in our
+wildest rambles, was but rare)--but drunk or sober, he was aye the
+gentleman. He looked excessively heavy and stupid when he was fou, but
+he was never out o' gude humor." After this, we are not surprised to
+hear that Scott's father told him disgustedly that he was better fitted
+to be a fiddling peddler, a "gangrel scrape-gut," than a respectable
+attorney. As a matter of fact, however, behind the mad pranks and the
+occasional excesses there was a very serious purpose in all this
+scouring of the country-side. Scott was picking up here and there, from
+the old men and women with whom he hobnobbed, antiquarian material of an
+invaluable kind, bits of local history, immemorial traditions and
+superstitions, and, above all, precious ballads which had been handed
+down for generations among the peasantry. These ballads, thus
+precariously transmitted, it was Scott's ambition to gather together and
+preserve, and he spared no pains or fatigue to come at any scrap of
+ballad literature of whose existence he had an inkling. Meanwhile, he
+was enriching heart and imagination for the work that was before him. So
+that here also, though in the hair-brained and heady way of youth, he
+was engaged in his task of preparation.
+
+Scott has told us that it was his reading of _Don Quixote_ which
+determined him to be an author, but he was first actually excited to
+composition in another way. This was by hearing recited a ballad of the
+German poet Buerger, entitled _Lenore_, in which a skeleton lover carries
+off his bride to a wedding in the land of death. Mr. Hutton remarks
+upon the curiousness of the fact that a piece of "raw supernaturalism"
+like this should have appealed so strongly to a mind as healthy and sane
+as Scott's. So it was, however. He could not rid himself of the
+fascination of the piece until he had translated it, and published it,
+together with another translation from the same author. One stanza at
+least of this first effort of Scott sounds a note characteristic of his
+poetry:
+
+  Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,
+  Splash! splash! along the sea;
+  The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,
+  The flashing pebbles flee.
+
+Here we catch the trumpet-like clang and staccato tramp of verse which
+he was soon to use in a way to thrill his generation. This tiny pamphlet
+of verse, Scott's earliest publication, appeared in 1796. Soon after, he
+met Monk Lewis, then famous as a purveyor to English palates of the
+crude horrors which German romanticism had just ceased to revel in.
+Lewis was engaged in compiling a book of supernatural stories and poems
+under the title of _Tales of Wonder_, and asked Scott to contribute.
+Scott wrote for this book three long ballads--"Glenfinlas," "Cadyow
+Castle," and "The Gray Brother." Though tainted with the conventional
+diction of eighteenth century verse, these ballads are not unimpressive
+pieces of work; the second named, especially, shows a kind and degree of
+romantic imagination such as his later poetry rather substantiated than
+newly revealed.
+
+
+II
+
+In the following year, 1797, Scott married a Miss Charpentier, daughter
+of a French refugee. She was not his first love, that place having been
+usurped by a Miss Stuart Belches, for whom Scott had felt perhaps the
+only deep passion of his life, and memory of whom was to come to the
+surface touchingly in his old age. Miss Charpentier, or Carpenter, as
+she was called, with her vivacity and quaint foreign speech "caught his
+heart on the rebound"; there can be no doubt that, in spite of a certain
+shallowness of character, she made him a good wife, and that his
+affection for her deepened steadily to the end. The young couple went to
+live at Lasswade, a village near Edinburgh, on the Esk. Scott, in whom
+the proprietary instinct was always very strong, took great pride in the
+pretty little cottage. He made a dining-table for it with his own hands,
+planted saplings in the yard, and drew together two willow-trees at the
+gate into a kind of arch, surmounted by a cross made of two sticks.
+"After I had constructed this," he says, "mamma (Mrs. Scott) and I both
+of us thought it so fine that we turned out to see it by moonlight, and
+walked backwards from it to the cottage door, in admiration of our
+magnificence and its picturesque effect." It would have been well
+indeed for them both if their pleasures of proprietorship could always
+have remained so touchingly simple.
+
+Now that he was married, Scott was forced to look a little more sharply
+to his fortunes. He applied himself with more determination to the law.
+In 1799 he became deputy-sheriff of Selkirkshire, with a salary of three
+hundred pounds, which placed him at least beyond the reach of want. He
+began to look more and more to literature as a means of supplementing
+his income. His ballads in the _Tales of Wonder_ had gained him some
+reputation; this he increased in 1802 by the publication, under the
+title _Border Minstrelsy_, of the ballads which he had for several years
+been collecting, collating, and richly annotating. Meanwhile he was
+looking about for a congenial subject upon which to try his hand in a
+larger way than he had as yet adventured. Such a subject came to him at
+last in a manner calculated to enlist all his enthusiasm in its
+treatment, for it was given him by the Countess of Dalkeith, wife of the
+heir-apparent to the dukedom of Buccleugh. The ducal house of Buccleugh
+stood at the head of the clan Scott, and toward its representative the
+poet always held himself in an attitude of feudal reverence. The Duke of
+Buccleugh was his "chief," entitled to demand from him both passive
+loyalty and active service; so, at least, Scott loved to interpret their
+relationship, making effective in his own case a feudal sentiment which
+had elsewhere somewhat lapsed. He especially loved to think of himself
+as the bard of his clan, a modern representative of those rude poets
+whom the Scottish chiefs once kept as a part of their household to chant
+the exploits of the clan. Nothing could have pleased his fancy more,
+therefore, than a request on the part of the lady of his chief to treat
+a subject of her assigning--namely, the dark mischief-making of a dwarf
+or goblin who had strayed from his unearthly master and attached himself
+as page to a human household. The subject fell in with the poet's
+reigning taste for strong supernaturalism. Gilpin Horner, the goblin
+page, though he proved in the sequel a difficult character to put to
+poetic use, was a figure grotesque and eerie enough to appeal even to
+Monk Lewis. At first Scott thought of treating the subject in
+ballad-form, but the scope of treatment was gradually enlarged by
+several circumstances. To begin with, he chanced upon a copy of Goethe's
+_Goetz von Berlichingen_, and the history of that robber baron suggested
+to him the feasibility of throwing the same vivid light upon the old
+Border life of his ancestors as Goethe had thrown upon that of the Rhine
+barons. This led him to subordinate the part played by the goblin page
+in the proposed story, which was now widened to include elaborate
+pictures of medieval life and manners, and to lay the scene in the
+castle of Branksome, formerly the stronghold of Scott's and the Duke of
+Buccleugh's ancestors. The verse form into which the story was thrown
+was due to a still more accidental circumstance, i.e., Scott's
+overhearing Sir John Stoddard recite a fragment of Coleridge's
+unpublished poem "Christabel." The placing of the story in the mouth of
+an old harper fallen upon evil days, was a happy afterthought; besides
+making a beautiful framework for the main poem, it enabled the author to
+escape criticism for any violent innovations of style, since these could
+always be attributed to the rude and wild school of poetry to which the
+harper was supposed to belong. In these ways _The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel_ gradually developed in its present form. Upon its publication
+in 1805, it achieved an immediate success. The vividness of its
+descriptive passages, the buoyant rush of its meter, the deep romantic
+glow suffusing all its pages, took by storm a public familiar to
+weariness with the decorous abstractions of the eighteenth century
+poets. The first edition, a sumptuous quarto, was exhausted in a few
+weeks; an octavo edition of fifteen hundred was sold out within the
+year; and before 1830, forty-four thousand copies were needed to supply
+the popular demand. Scott received in all something under eight hundred
+pounds for the _Lay_, a small amount when contrasted with his gains from
+subsequent poems, but a sum so unusual nevertheless that he determined
+forthwith to devote as much time to literature as he could spare from
+his legal duties; those he still placed foremost, for until near the
+close of his life he clung to his adage that literature was "a good
+staff, but a poor crutch."
+
+A year before the publication of the _Lay_, Scott had removed to the
+small country seat of Ashestiel, in Selkirkshire, seven miles from the
+nearest town, Selkirk, and several miles from any neighbor. In the
+introductions to the various cantos of _Marmion_ he has given us a
+delightful picture of Ashestiel and its surroundings--the swift
+Glenkinnon dashing through the estate in a deep ravine, on its way to
+join the Tweed; behind the house the rising hills beyond which lay the
+lovely scenery of the Yarrow. The eight years (1804-1812) at Ashestiel
+were the serenest, and probably the happiest, of Scott's life. Here he
+wrote his two greatest poems, _Marmion_ and _The Lady of the Lake_. His
+mornings he spent at his desk, always with a faithful hound at his feet
+watching the tireless hand as it threw off sheet after sheet of
+manuscript to make up the day's stint. By one o'clock he was, as he
+said, "his own man," free to spend the remaining hours of light with his
+children, his horses, and his dogs, or to indulge himself in his
+life-long passion for tree-planting. His robust and healthy nature made
+him excessively fond of all out-of-door sports, especially riding, in
+which he was daring to foolhardiness. It is a curious fact, noted by
+Lockhart, that many of Scott's senses were blunt; he could scarcely,
+for instance, tell one wine from another by the taste, and once sat
+quite unconscious at his table while his guests were manifesting extreme
+uneasiness over the approach of a too-long-kept haunch of venison, but
+his sight was unusually keen, as his hunting exploits proved. His little
+son once explained his father's popularity by saying that "it was him
+that commonly saw the hare sitting." What with hunting, fishing,
+salmon-spearing by torchlight, gallops over the hills into the Yarrow
+country, planting and transplanting of his beloved trees, Scott's life
+at Ashestiel, during the hours when he was "his own man," was a very
+full and happy one.
+
+Unfortunately, he had already embarked in an enterprise which was
+destined to overthrow his fortunes just when they seemed fairest. While
+at school in Kelso he had become intimate with a school fellow named
+James Ballantyne, and later, when Ballantyne set up a small printing
+house in Kelso, he had given him his earliest poems to print. After the
+issue of the _Border Minstrelsy_, the typographical excellence of which
+attracted attention even in London, he set Ballantyne up in business in
+Edinburgh, secretly entering the firm himself as silent partner. The
+good sale of the _Lay_ had given the firm an excellent start; but more
+matter was presently needed to feed the press. To supply it, Scott
+undertook and completed at Ashestiel four enormous tasks of
+editing--the complete works of Dryden and of Swift, the Somers' Tracts,
+and the Sadler State Papers. The success of these editions, and the
+subsequent enormous sale of Scott's poems and novels, would have kept
+the concern solvent in spite of Ballantyne's complete incapacity for
+business, but in 1809 Scott plunged recklessly into another and more
+serious venture. A dispute with Constable, the veteran publisher and
+bookseller, aggravated by the harsh criticism delivered upon _Marmion_
+by Francis Jeffrey, editor of the _Edinburgh Review_, Constable's
+magazine, determined Scott to set up in connection with the Ballantyne
+press a rival bookselling concern, and a rival magazine, to be called
+the _Quarterly Review_. The project was a daring one, in view of
+Constable's great ability and resources; to make it foolhardy to madness
+Scott selected to manage the new business a brother of James Ballantyne,
+a dissipated little buffoon, with about as much business ability and
+general caliber of character as is connoted by the name which Scott
+coined for him, "Rigdumfunnidos." The selection of such a man for such a
+place betrays in Scott's eminently sane and balanced mind a curious
+strain of impracticality, to say the least; indeed, we are almost
+constrained to feel with his harsher critics that it betrays something
+worse than defective judgment--defective character. His greatest
+failing, if failing it can be called, was pride. He could not endure
+even the mild dictations of a competent publisher, as is shown by his
+answer to a letter written by one of them proposing some salaried work;
+he replied curtly that he was a "black Hussar" of literature, and not to
+be put to such tame service. Probably this haughty dislike of dictation,
+this imperious desire to patronize rather than be patronized, led him to
+choose inferior men with whom to enter into business relations. If so,
+he paid for the fault so dearly that it is hard for a biographer to
+press the issue against him.
+
+For the present, however, the wind of fortune was blowing fair, and all
+the storm clouds were below the horizon. In 1808 _Marmion_ appeared, and
+was greeted with an enthusiasm which made the unprecedented reception of
+the _Lay_ seem lukewarm in comparison. _Marmion_ contains nothing which
+was not plainly foreshadowed in the _Lay_, but the hand of the poet has
+grown more sure, his descriptive effects are less crude and amateurish,
+the narrative proceeds with a steadier march, the music has gained in
+volume and in martial vigor. An anecdote is told by Mr. Hutton which
+will serve as a type of a hundred others illustrative of the
+extraordinary hold which this poetry took upon the minds of ordinary
+men. "I have heard," he says, "of two old men--complete
+strangers--passing each other on a dark London night, when one of them
+happened to be repeating to himself, just as Campbell did to the
+hackney coachman of the North Bridge of Edinburgh, the last lines of the
+account of Flodden Field in _Marmion_, 'Charge, Chester, charge,' when
+suddenly a reply came out of the darkness, 'On, Stanley, on,' whereupon
+they finished the death of _Marmion_ between them, took off their hats
+to each other, and parted, laughing." _The Lady of the Lake_, which
+followed in little more than a year, was received with the same popular
+delight, and with even greater respect on the part of the critics. Even
+the formidable Jeffrey, who was supposed to dine off slaughtered authors
+as the Giant in "Jack and the Beanstalk" dined off young Englishmen,
+keyed his voice to unwonted praise. The influx of tourists into the
+Trossachs, where the scene of the poem was laid, was so great as
+seriously to embarrass the mail coaches, until at last the posting
+charges had to be raised in order to diminish the traffic. Far away in
+Spain, at a trying moment of the Peninsular campaign, Sir Adam Ferguson,
+posted on a point of ground exposed to the enemy's fire, read to his men
+as they lay prostrate on the ground the passage from _The Lady of the
+Lake_ describing the combat between Roderick Dhu's Highlanders and the
+forces of the Earl of Mar; and "the listening soldiers only interrupted
+him by a joyous huzza when the French shot struck the bank close above
+them." Such tributes--and they were legion--to the power of his poetry
+to move adventurous and hardy men, must have been intoxicating to
+Scott; there is small wonder that the success of his poems gave him, as
+he says, "such a _heeze_ as almost lifted him off his feet."
+
+
+III
+
+Scott's modesty was not in danger, but so far as his prudence was
+concerned, his success did really lift him off his feet. In 1812, still
+more encouraged thereto by entering upon the emoluments of the office of
+Clerk of Sessions, the duties of which he had performed for six years
+without pay, he purchased Abbotsford, an estate on the Tweed, adjoining
+that of the Duke of Buccleugh, his kinsman, and near the beautiful ruins
+of Melrose Abbey. Here he began to carry out the dream of his life, to
+found a territorial family which should augment the power and fame of
+his clan. Beginning with a modest farm house and a farm of a hundred
+acres, he gradually bought, planted, and built, until the farm became a
+manorial domain and the farm house a castle. He had not gone far in this
+work before he began to realize that the returns from his poetry would
+never suffice to meet such demands as would thus be made upon his purse.
+Byron's star was in the ascendant, and before its baleful magnificence
+Scott's milder and more genial light visibly paled. He was himself the
+first to declare, with characteristic generosity, that the younger poet
+had "bet"[3] him at his own craft. As Carlyle says, "he had held the
+sovereignty for some half-score of years, a comparatively long lease of
+it, and now the time seemed come for dethronement, for abdication. An
+unpleasant business; which, however, he held himself ready, as a brave
+man will, to transact with composure and in silence."
+
+[Footnote 3: Bested, got the better of.]
+
+But, as it proved, there was no need for resignation. The reign of
+metrical romance, brilliant but brief, was past, or nearly so. But what
+of prose romance, which long ago, in picking out _Don Quixote_ from the
+puzzling Spanish, he had promised himself he would one day attempt? With
+some such questioning of the Fates, Scott drew from his desk the sheets
+of a story begun seven years before, and abandoned because of the
+success of _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_. This story he now completed,
+and published as _Waverley_ in the spring of 1814--an event "memorable
+in the annals of British literature; in the annals of British
+bookselling thrice and four times memorable." The popularity of the
+metrical romances dwindled to insignificance before the enthusiasm with
+which this prose romance was received. A moment before quietly resolved
+to give up his place in the world's eye, and to live the life of an
+obscure country gentleman, Scott found himself launched once more on the
+tide of brave fortunes. The Ballantyne publishing and printing houses
+ceased to totter, and settled themselves on what seemed the firmest of
+foundations. At Abbotsford, buying, planting, and building began on a
+greater scale than had ever been planned in its owner's most sanguine
+moments.
+
+The history of the next eleven years in Scott's life is the history, on
+the one hand, of the rapidly-appearing novels, of a fame gradually
+spreading outward from Great Britain until it covered the civilized
+world--a fame increased rather than diminished by the _incognito_ which
+the "author of _Waverley_" took great pains to preserve even after the
+secret had become an open one; on the other hand, of the large-hearted,
+hospitable life at Abbotsford, where, in spite of the importunities of
+curious and ill-bred tourists, bent on getting a glimpse of the "Wizard
+of the North," and in spite of the enormous mass of work, literary and
+official, which Scott took upon himself to perform, the atmosphere of
+country leisure and merriment was somehow miraculously preserved. This
+life of the hearty prosperous country laird was the one toward the
+realization of which all Scott's efforts were directed; it is worth
+while, therefore, to see as vividly as may be, what kind of life that
+was, that we may the better understand what kind of man he was who cared
+for it. The following extract from Lockhart's _Life of Scott_ gives us
+at least one very characteristic aspect of the Abbotsford world:
+
+     "It was a clear, bright September morning, with a sharpness in the
+     air that doubled the animating influence of the sunshine; and all
+     was in readiness for a grand coursing-match on Newark Hill. The
+     only guest who had chalked out other sport for himself was the
+     staunchest of anglers, Mr. Rose; but he, too, was there on his
+     _shelty_, armed with his salmon-rod and landing-net.... This little
+     group of Waltonians, bound for Lord Somerville's preserve, remained
+     lounging about, to witness the start of the main cavalcade. Sir
+     Walter, mounted on Sibyl, was marshalling the order of procession
+     with a huge hunting-whip; and among a dozen frolicsome youths and
+     maidens, who seemed disposed to laugh at all discipline, appeared,
+     each on horseback, each as eager as the youngest sportsman in the
+     troop, Sir Humphrey Davy, Dr. Wollaston, and the patriarch of
+     Scottish belles-lettres, Henry Mackenzie.... Laidlow (the steward
+     of Abbotsford) on a strong-tailed wiry Highlander, yclept Hoddin
+     Grey, which carried him nimbly and stoutly, although his feet
+     almost touched the ground, was the adjutant. But the most
+     picturesque figure was the illustrious inventor of the safety-lamp
+     (Sir Humphrey Davy) ... a brown hat with flexible brim, surrounded
+     with line upon line of catgut, and innumerable fly-hooks; jackboots
+     worthy of a Dutch smuggler, and a fustian surtout dabbled with the
+     blood of salmon, made a fine contrast with the smart jacket,
+     white-cord breeches, and well-polished jockey-boots of the less
+     distinguished cavaliers about him. Dr. Wollaston was in black; and
+     with his noble serene dignity of countenance might have passed for
+     a sporting archbishop. Mr. Mackenzie, at this time in the
+     seventy-sixth year of his age, with a hat turned up with green,
+     green spectacles, green jacket, and long brown leathern gaiters
+     buttoned upon his nether anatomy, wore a dog-whistle round his
+     neck.... Tom Purdie (one of Scott's servants) and his subalterns
+     had preceded us by a few hours with all the grey-hounds that could
+     be collected at Abbotsford, Darnick, and Melrose; but the giant
+     Maida had remained as his master's orderly, and now gamboled about
+     Sibyl Grey barking for mere joy like a spaniel puppy.
+
+     "The order of march had all been settled, when Scott's daughter
+     Anne broke from the line, screaming with laughter, and exclaimed,
+     'Papa, papa, I knew you could never think of going without your
+     pet!' Scott looked round, and I rather think there was a blush as
+     well as a smile upon his face, when he perceived a little black pig
+     frisking about his pony, evidently a self-elected addition to the
+     party of the day. He tried to look stern, and cracked his whip at
+     the creature, but was in a moment obliged to join in the general
+     cheers. Poor piggy soon found a strap round its neck, and was
+     dragged into the background; Scott, watching the retreat, repeated
+     with mock pathos, the first verse of an old pastoral song--
+
+       What will I do gin my hoggie die?
+       My joy, my pride, my hoggie!
+       My only beast, I had na mae,
+       And wow, but I was vogie!
+
+     --the cheers were redoubled--and the squadron moved on."
+
+Let us supplement this with one more picture, from the same hand,
+showing Scott in a little more intimate light. The passage was written
+in 1821, after Lockhart had married Scott's eldest daughter, and gone
+to spend the summer at Chiefswood, a cottage on the Abbotsford estate:
+
+     "We were near enough Abbotsford to partake as often as we liked of
+     its brilliant and constantly varying society; yet could do so
+     without being exposed to the worry and exhaustion of spirit which
+     the daily reception of new-comers entailed upon all the family,
+     except Scott himself. But in truth, even he was not always proof
+     against the annoyances connected with such a style of open
+     house-keeping.... When sore beset at home in this way, he would
+     every now and then discover that he had some very particular
+     business to attend to on an outlying part of his estate, and
+     craving the indulgence of his guests overnight, appear at the cabin
+     in the glen before its inhabitants were astir in the morning. The
+     clatter of Sibyl Grey's hoofs, the yelping of Mustard and Spice,
+     and his own joyous shout of _reveillee_ under our windows, were the
+     signal that he had burst his toils, and meant for that day to 'take
+     his ease in his inn.' On descending, he was found to be seated with
+     all his dogs and ours about him, under a spreading ash that
+     overshadowed half the bank between the cottage and the brook,
+     pointing the edge of his woodman's axe, and listening to Tom
+     Purdie's lecture touching the plantation that most needed thinning.
+     After breakfast he would take possession of a dressing-room
+     upstairs, and write a chapter of _The Pirate_; and then, having
+     made up and despatched his packet for Mr. Ballantyne, away to join
+     Purdie wherever the foresters were at work ... until it was time to
+     rejoin his own party at Abbotsford or the quiet circle of the
+     cottage. When his guests were few and friendly, he often made them
+     come over and meet him at Chiefswood in a body towards evening....
+     He was ready with all sorts of devices to supply the wants of a
+     narrow establishment; he used to delight particularly in sinking
+     the wine in a well under the _brae_ ere he went out, and hauling up
+     the basket just before dinner was announced,--this primitive device
+     being, he said, what he had always practised when a young
+     housekeeper, and in his opinion far superior in its results to any
+     application of ice; and in the same spirit, whenever the weather
+     was sufficiently genial, he voted for dining out of doors
+     altogether."
+
+Few events of importance except the successive appearances of "our
+buiks" as Tom Purdie called his master's novels, and an occasional visit
+to London or the continent, intervened to break the busy monotony of
+this Abbotsford life. On one of these visits to London, Scott was
+invited to dine with the Prince Regent, and when the prince became King
+George IV, in 1820, almost the first act of his reign was to create
+Scott a baronet. Scott accepted the honor gratefully, as coming, he
+said, "from the original source of all honor." There can well be two
+opinions as to whether this least admirable of English kings constituted
+a very prime fountain of honor, judged by democratic standards; but to
+Scott's mind, such an imputation would have been next to sacrilege. The
+feudal bias of his mind, strong to start with, had been strengthened by
+his long sojourn among the visions of a feudal past; the ideals of
+feudalism were living realities to him; and he accepted knighthood from
+his king's hand in exactly the same spirit which determined his attitude
+of humility towards his "chief," the Duke of Buccleugh, and which
+impelled him to exhaust his genius in the effort to build up a great
+family estate.
+
+There were already signs that the enormous burden of work under which he
+seemed to move so lightly, was telling on him. _The Bride of
+Lammermoor_, _The Legend of Montrose_, and _Ivanhoe_, had all of them
+been dictated between screams of pain, wrung from his lips by a chronic
+cramp of the stomach. By the time he reached _Redgauntlet_ and _St.
+Ronan's Well_, there began to be heard faint murmurings of discontent
+from his public, hints that he was writing too fast, and that the noble
+wine he had poured them for so long was growing at last a trifle watery.
+To add to these causes of uneasiness, the commercial ventures in which
+he was interested drifted again into a precarious state. He had himself
+fallen into the bad habit of forestalling the gains from his novels by
+heavy drafts on his publishers, and the example thus set was followed
+faithfully by John Ballantyne. Scott's good humor and his partner's bad
+judgment saddled the concern with a lot of unsalable books. In 1818 the
+affairs of the book-selling business had to be closed up, Constable
+taking over the unsalable stock and assuming the outstanding liabilities
+in return for copyright privileges covering some of Scott's novels.
+This so burdened the veteran publisher that when, in 1825, a large
+London firm failed, it carried him down also--and with him James
+Ballantyne, with whom he had entered into close relations. Scott's
+secret connection with Ballantyne had continued; accordingly he woke up
+one fine day to find himself worse than beggared, being personally
+liable for one hundred and thirty thousand pounds.
+
+
+IV
+
+The years intervening between this calamity and Scott's death form one
+of the saddest and at the same time most heroic chapters in the history
+of literature. The fragile health of Lady Scott succumbed almost
+immediately to the crushing blow, and she died in a few months. Scott
+surrendered Abbotsford to his creditors and took up humble lodgings in
+Edinburgh. Here, with a pride and stoical courage as quiet as it was
+splendid, he settled down to fill with the earnings of his pen the vast
+gulf of debt for which he was morally scarcely responsible at all. In
+three years he wrote _Woodstock_, three _Chronicles of the Canongate_,
+the _Fair Maid of Perth_, _Anne of Geierstein_, the first series of the
+_Tales of a Grandfather_, and a _Life of Napoleon_, equal to thirteen
+volumes of novel size, besides editing and annotating a complete edition
+of his own works. All these together netted his creditors L40,000.
+Touched by the efforts he was making to settle their claims, they now
+presented him with Abbotsford, and thither he returned to spend the few
+years remaining to him. In 1830 he suffered a first stroke of paralysis;
+refusing to give up, however, he made one more desperate rally to
+recapture his old power of story-telling. _Count Robert of Paris_ and
+_Castle Dangerous_ were the pathetic result; they are not to be taken
+into account, in any estimate of his powers, for they are manifestly the
+work of a paralytic patient. The gloomy picture is darkened by an
+incident which illustrates strikingly one phase of Scott's character.
+
+The great Reform Bill was being discussed throughout Scotland, menacing
+what were really abuses, but what Scott, with his intense conservatism,
+believed to be sacred and inviolable institutions. The dying man roused
+himself to make a stand against the abominable bill. In a speech which
+he made at Jedburgh, he was hissed and hooted by the crowd, and he left
+the town with the dastardly cry of "Burk Sir Walter!" ringing in his
+ears.
+
+Nature now intervened to ease the intolerable strain. Scott's anxiety
+concerning his debt gradually gave way to an hallucination that it had
+all been paid. His friends took advantage of the quietude which followed
+to induce him to make the journey to Italy, in the fear that the severe
+winter of Scotland would prove fatal. A ship of His Majesty's fleet was
+put at his disposal, and he set sail for Malta. The youthful
+adventurousness of the man flared up again oddly for a moment, when he
+insisted on being set ashore upon a volcanic island in the Mediterranean
+which had appeared but a few days before and which sank beneath the
+surface shortly after. The climate of Malta at first appeared to benefit
+him; but when he heard, one day, of the death of Goethe at Weimar, he
+seemed seized with a sudden apprehension of his own end, and insisted
+upon hurrying back through Europe, in order that he might look once more
+on Abbotsford. On the ride from Edinburgh he remained for the first two
+stages entirely unconscious. But as the carriage entered the valley of
+the Gala he opened his eyes and murmured the name of objects as they
+passed, "Gala water, surely--Buckholm--Torwoodlee." When the towers of
+Abbotsford came in view, he was so filled with delight that he could
+scarcely be restrained from leaping out. At the gates he greeted
+faithful Laidlaw in a voice strong and hearty as of old: "Why, man, how
+often I have thought of you!" and smiled and wept over the dogs who came
+rushing as in bygone times to lick his hand. He died a few days later,
+on the afternoon of a glorious autumn day, with all the windows open, so
+that he might catch to the last the whisper of the Tweed over its
+pebbles.
+
+"And so," says Carlyle, "the curtain falls; and the strong Walter Scott
+is with us no more. A possession from him does remain; widely
+scattered; yet attainable; not inconsiderable. It can be said of him,
+when he departed, he took a Man's life along with him. No sounder piece
+of British manhood was put together in that eighteenth century of Time.
+Alas, his fine Scotch face, with its shaggy honesty, sagacity and
+goodness, when we saw it latterly on the Edinburgh streets, was all worn
+with care, the joy all fled from it--plowed deep with labor and sorrow.
+We shall never forget it; we shall never see it again. Adieu, Sir
+Walter, pride of all Scotchmen, take our proud and sad farewell."
+
+
+
+
+II. SCOTT'S PLACE IN THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT
+
+
+In order rightly to appreciate the poetry of Scott it is necessary to
+understand something of that remarkable "Romantic Movement" which took
+place toward the end of the eighteenth century, and within a space of
+twenty-five years completely changed the face of English literature.
+Both the causes and the effects of this movement were much more than
+merely literary; the "romantic revival" penetrated every crevice and
+ramification of life in those parts of Europe which it affected; its
+social, political, and religious results were all deeply significant.
+But we must here confine ourselves to such aspects of the revival as
+showed themselves in English poetry.
+
+Eighteenth century poetry had been distinguished by its polish, its
+formal correctness, or--to use a term in much favor with critics of that
+day--its "elegance." The various and wayward metrical effects of the
+Elizabethan and Jacobean poets had been discarded for a few
+well-recognized verse forms, which themselves in turn had become still
+further limited by the application to them of precise rules of
+structure. Hand in hand with this restricting process in meter, had gone
+a similar tendency in diction. The simple, concrete phrases of daily
+speech had given way to stately periphrases; the rich and riotous
+vocabulary of earlier poetry had been replaced by one more decorous,
+measured, and high-sounding. A corresponding process of selection and
+exclusion was applied to the subject matter of poetry. Passion, lyric
+exaltation, delight in the concrete life of man and nature, passed out
+of fashion; in their stead came social satire, criticism, generalized
+observation. While the classical influence, as it is usually called, was
+at its height, with such men as Dryden and Pope to exemplify it, it did
+a great work; but toward the end of the eighth decade of the eighteenth
+century it had visibly run to seed. The feeble Hayley, the silly Della
+Crusca, the arid Erasmus Darwin, were its only exemplars. England was
+ripe for a literary revolution, a return to nature and to passion; and
+such a revolution was not slow in coming.
+
+It announced itself first in George Crabbe, who turned to paint the life
+of the poor with patient realism; in Burns, who poured out in his songs
+the passion of love, the passion of sorrow, the passion of conviviality;
+in Blake, who tried to reach across the horizon of visible fact to
+mystical heavens of more enduring reality. Following close upon these
+men came the four poets destined to accomplish the revolution which the
+early comers had begun. They were born within four years of each other,
+Wordsworth in 1770, Scott in 1771, Coleridge in 1772, Southey in 1774.
+As we look at these four men now, and estimate their worth as poets, we
+see that Southey drops almost out of the account, and that Wordsworth
+and Coleridge stand, so far as the highest qualities of poetry go, far
+above Scott, as, indeed, Blake and Burns do also. But the contemporary
+judgment upon them was directly the reverse; and Scott's poetry
+exercised an influence over his age immeasurably greater than that of
+any of the other three. Let us attempt to discover what qualities this
+poetry possessed which gave it its astonishing hold upon the age when it
+was written. In so doing, we may discover indirectly some of the reasons
+why it still retains a large portion of its popularity, and perhaps
+arrive at some grounds of judgment by which we may test its right
+thereto.
+
+One reason why Scott's poetry was immediately welcomed, while that of
+Wordsworth and of Coleridge lay neglected, is to be found in the fact
+that in the matter of diction Scott was much less revolutionary than
+they. By nature and education he was conservative; he put _The Lay of
+the Last Minstrel_ into the mouth of a rude harper of the North in order
+to shield himself from the charge of "attempting to set up a new school
+in poetry," and he never throughout his life violated the conventions,
+literary or social, if he could possibly avoid doing so. This bias
+toward conservatism and conventionality shows itself particularly in
+the language of his poems. He was compelled, of course, to use much
+more concrete and vivid terms than the eighteenth century poets had
+used, because he was dealing with much more concrete and vivid matter;
+but his language, nevertheless, has a prevailing stateliness, and at
+times an artificiality, which recommended it to readers tired of the
+inanities of Hayley and Mason, but unwilling to accept the startling
+simplicity and concreteness of diction exemplified by the Lake poets at
+their best.
+
+Another peculiarity of Scott's poetry which made powerfully for its
+popularity, was its spirited meter. People were weary of the heroic
+couplet, and turned eagerly to these hurried verses, that went on their
+way with the sharp tramp of moss-troopers, and heated the blood like a
+drum. The meters of Coleridge, subtle, delicate, and poignant, had been
+passed by with indifference--had not been heard perhaps, for lack of
+ears trained to hear; but Scott's metrical effects were such as a child
+could appreciate, and a soldier could carry in his head.
+
+Analogous to this treatment of meter, though belonging to a less formal
+side of his art, was Scott's treatment of nature, the landscape setting
+of his stories. Perhaps the most obvious feature of the romantic revival
+was a reawakening of interest in out-door nature. It was as if for a
+hundred years past people had been stricken blind as soon as they passed
+from the city streets into the country. A trim garden, an artfully
+placed country house, a well-kept preserve, they might see; but for the
+great shaggy world of mountain and sea--it had been shut out of man's
+elegant vision. Before Scott began to write there had been no lack of
+prophets of the new nature-worship, but none of them of a sort to catch
+the general ear. Wordsworth's pantheism was too mystical, too delicate
+and intuitive, to recommend itself to any but chosen spirits; Crabbe's
+descriptions were too minute, Coleridge's too intense, to please. Scott
+was the first to paint nature with a broad, free touch, without raptures
+or philosophizing, but with a healthy pleasure in its obvious beauties,
+such as appeal to average men. His "scenery" seldom exists for its own
+sake, but serves, as it should, for background and setting of his story.
+As his readers followed the fortunes of William of Deloraine or Roderick
+Dhu, they traversed by sunlight and by moonlight landscapes of wild
+romantic charm, and felt their beauty quite naturally, as a part of the
+excitement of that wild life. They felt it the more readily because of a
+touch of artificial stateliness in the handling, a slight theatrical
+heightening of effect--from an absolute point of view a defect, but
+highly congenial to the taste of the time. It was the scenic side of
+nature which Scott gave, and gave inimitably, while Burns was piercing
+to the inner heart of her tenderness in his lines "To a Mountain Daisy"
+and "To a Mouse," while Wordsworth was mystically communing with her
+soul, in his "Tintern Abbey." It was the scenic side of nature for which
+the perceptions of men were ripe; so they left profounder poets to their
+musings, and followed after the poet who could give them a brilliant
+story set in a brilliant scene.
+
+Again, the emotional key to Scott's poetry was on a comprehensible
+plane. The situations with which he deals, the passions, ambitions,
+satisfactions, which he portrays, belong, in one form or another, to all
+men, or at least are easily grasped by the imaginations of all men. It
+has often been said that Scott is the most Homeric of English poets; so
+far as the claim rests on considerations of style, it is hardly to be
+granted, for nothing could be farther than the hurrying torrent of
+Scott's verse from the "long and refluent music" of Homer. But in this
+other respect, that he deals in the rudimentary stuff of human character
+in a straightforward way, without a hint of modern complexities and
+super-subtleties, he is really akin to the master poet of antiquity.
+This, added to the crude wild life which he pictures, the vigorous sweep
+of his action, the sincere glow of romance which bathes his story--all
+so tonic in their effect upon minds long used to the stuffy decorum of
+didactic poetry, completed the triumph of _The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel_, _Marmion_, and _The Lady of the Lake_, over their age.
+
+As has been already suggested, Scott cannot be put in the first rank of
+poets. No compromise can be made on this point, because upon it the
+whole theory of poetry depends. Neither on the formal nor on the
+essential sides of his art is he among the small company of the supreme.
+And no one understood this better than himself. He touched the keynote
+of his own power, though with too great modesty, when he said, "I am
+sensible that if there is anything good about my poetry ... it is a
+hurried frankness of composition which pleases soldiers, sailors, and
+young people of bold and active dispositions." The poet Campbell, who
+was so fascinated by Scott's ballad of "Cadyow Castle" that he used to
+repeat it aloud on the North Bridge of Edinburgh until "the whole
+fraternity of coachmen knew him by tongue as he passed," characterizes
+the predominant charm of Scott's poetry as lying in a "strong, pithy
+eloquence," which is perhaps only another name for "hurried frankness of
+composition." If this is not the highest quality to which poetry can
+attain, it is a very admirable one; and it will be a sad day for the
+English-speaking race when there shall not be found persons of every age
+and walk of life, to take the same delights in these stirring poems as
+their author loved to think was taken by "soldiers, sailors, and young
+people of bold and active dispositions."
+
+
+
+
+III. THE LADY OF THE LAKE
+
+
+1. HISTORICAL SETTING
+
+_The Lady of the Lake_ deals with a distinct epoch in the life of King
+James V of Scotland, and has lying back of it a considerable amount of
+historical fact, an understanding of which will help in the appreciation
+of the poem. During his minority the King was under the tutelage of
+Archibald Douglas, sixth Earl of Angus, who had married the King's
+mother. The young monarch chafed for a long time under this authority,
+but the Douglases were so powerful that he was unable to shake it off,
+in spite of several desperate attempts on the part of his sympathizers
+to rescue him. In 1528 the King, then sixteen years of age, escaped from
+his own castle of Falkland to Stirling Castle. The governor of Stirling,
+an enemy of the Douglas family, received him joyfully. There soon
+gathered about his standard a sufficient number of powerful peers to
+enable him to depose the Earl of Angus from the regency and to banish
+him and all his family to England. The Douglas who figures in the poem
+is an imaginary uncle of the banished regent, and himself under the ban,
+compelled to hide away in the shelter provided for him by Roderick Dhu
+on the lonely island in Loch Katrine. He is represented as having been
+loved and trusted by King James during the boyhood of the latter, before
+the enmity sprang up between the house of Angus and the throne. This
+enmity, to quote from the _History of the House of Douglas_, published
+at Edinburgh in 1743, "was so inveterate, that numerous as their allies
+were, their nearest friends, even in the most remote parts of Scotland,
+durst not entertain them, unless under the strictest and closest
+disguise."
+
+The outlawed border chieftain, Roderick Dhu, who gives shelter to the
+persecuted Douglas, is a fictitious character, but one entirely typical
+of the time and place. The expedition undertaken by the young King
+against the Border clans, under the guise of a hunting party, is in
+part, at least, historic. Pitscottie's History says: "In 1529 James V
+made a convention at Edinburgh for the purpose of considering the best
+mode of quelling the Border robbers, who, during the license of his
+minority and the troubles which followed, had committed many
+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."
+
+
+2. GENERAL CRITICISM AND ANALYSIS
+
+_The Lady of the Lake_ appeared in 1810. Two years before, _Marmion_ had
+vastly increased the popular enthusiasm aroused by _The Lay of the Last
+Minstrel_, and the success of his second long poem had so exhilarated
+Scott that, as he says, he "felt equal to anything and everything." To
+one of his kinswomen, who urged him not to jeopardize his fame by
+another effort in the same kind, he gaily quoted 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 win or lose it all.
+
+The result justified his confidence; for not only was _The Lady of the
+Lake_ as successful as its predecessors, but it remains the most
+sterling of Scott's poems. The somewhat cheap supernaturalism of the
+_Lay_ appears in it only for a moment; both the story and the characters
+are of a less theatrical type than in _Marmion_; and it has a glow,
+animation, and onset, which was denied to the later poems, _Rokeby_ and
+_The Lord of the Isles_.
+
+The following outline abridged from the excellent one given by Francis
+Jeffrey in the _Edinburgh Review_ for August, 1810, will be useful as a
+basis for criticism of the matter and style of the poem.
+
+     "The first canto begins with a description of a staghunt in the
+     Highlands of Perthshire. As the chase lengthens, the sportsmen drop
+     off; till at last the foremost horseman is left alone; and his
+     horse, overcome with fatigue, stumbles and dies. The adventurer,
+     climbing up a craggy eminence, discovers Loch Katrine spread out in
+     evening glory before him. The huntsman winds his horn; and sees, to
+     his infinite surprise, a little skiff, guided by a lovely woman,
+     glide from beneath the trees that overhang the water, and approach
+     the shore at his feet. Upon the stranger's approach, she pushes the
+     shallop from the shore in alarm. After a short parley, however, she
+     carries him to a woody island, where she leads him into a sort of
+     silvan mansion, rudely constructed, and hung round with trophies of
+     war and the chase. An elderly lady is introduced at supper; and the
+     stranger, after disclosing himself to be 'James Fitz-James, the
+     knight of Snowdoun,' tries in vain to discover the name and history
+     of the ladies.
+
+     "The second canto opens with a picture of the aged harper,
+     Allan-bane, sitting on the island beach with the damsel, watching
+     the skiff which carries the stranger back to land. A conversation
+     ensues, from which the reader gathers that the lady is a daughter
+     of the Douglas, who, being exiled by royal displeasure from court,
+     had accepted this asylum from Sir Roderick Dhu, a Highland
+     chieftain long outlawed for deeds of blood; that this dark chief is
+     in love with his fair _protegee_, but that her affections are
+     engaged to Malcolm Graeme, a younger and more amiable mountaineer.
+     The sound of distant music is heard on the lake; and the barges of
+     Sir Roderick are discovered, proceeding in triumph to the island.
+     Ellen, hearing her father's horn at that instant on the opposite
+     shore, flies to meet him and Malcolm Graeme, who is received with
+     cold and stately civility by the lord of the isle. Sir Roderick
+     informs the Douglas that his retreat has been discovered, and that
+     the King (James V), under pretence of hunting, has assembled a
+     large force in the neighborhood. He then proposes impetuously that
+     they should unite their fortunes by his marriage with Ellen, and
+     rouse the whole Western Highlands. The Douglas, intimating that his
+     daughter has repugnances which she cannot overcome, declares that
+     he will retire to a cave in the neighboring mountains until the
+     issue of the King's threat is seen. The heart of Roderick is wrung
+     with agony at this rejection; and when Malcolm advances to Ellen,
+     he pushes him violently back--and a scuffle ensues, which is with
+     difficulty appeased by the giant arm of Douglas. Malcolm then
+     withdraws in proud resentment, plunges into the water, and swims
+     over by moonlight to the mainland.
+
+     "The third canto opens with an account of the ceremonies employed
+     in summoning the clan. This is accomplished by the consecration of
+     a small wooden cross, which, with its points scorched and dipped in
+     blood, is carried with incredible celerity through the whole
+     territory of the chieftain. The eager fidelity with which this
+     fatal signal is carried on, is represented with great spirit. A
+     youth starts from the side of his father's coffin, to bear it
+     forward, and, having run his stage, delivers it to a young
+     bridegroom returning from church, who instantly binds his plaid
+     around him, and rushes onward. In the meantime Douglas and his
+     daughter have taken refuge in the mountain cave; and Sir Roderick,
+     passing near their retreat on his way to the muster, hears Ellen's
+     voice singing her evening hymn to the Virgin. He does not obtrude
+     on her devotions, but hurries to the place of rendezvous.
+
+     "The fourth canto begins with some ceremonies by a wild hermit of
+     the clan, to ascertain the issue of the impending war; and this
+     oracle is obtained--that the party shall prevail which first sheds
+     the blood of its adversary. The scene then shifts to the retreat of
+     the Douglas, where the minstrel is trying to soothe Ellen in her
+     alarm at the disappearance of her father by singing a fairy ballad
+     to her. As the song ends, the knight of Snowdoun suddenly appears
+     before her, declares his love, and urges her to put herself under
+     his protection. Ellen throws herself on his generosity, confesses
+     her attachment to Graeme, and prevails on him to seek his own
+     safety by a speedy retreat from the territory of Roderick Dhu.
+     Before he goes, the stranger presents her with a ring, which he
+     says he has received from King James, with a promise to grant any
+     boon asked by the person producing it. As he retreats, his
+     suspicions are excited by the conduct of his guide, and confirmed
+     by the warnings of a mad woman whom they encounter. His false guide
+     discharges an arrow at him, which kills the maniac. The knight
+     slays the murderer; and learning from the expiring victim that her
+     brain had been turned by the cruelty of Sir Roderick Dhu, he vows
+     vengeance. When chilled with the midnight cold and exhausted with
+     fatigue, he suddenly comes upon a chief reposing by a lonely
+     watch-fire; and being challenged in the name of Roderick Dhu,
+     boldly avows himself his enemy. The clansman, however, disdains to
+     take advantage of a worn-out wanderer; and pledges him safe escort
+     out of Sir Roderick's territory, when he must answer his defiance
+     with his sword. The stranger accepts these chivalrous terms; and
+     the warriors sup and sleep together. This ends the fourth canto.
+
+     "At dawn, the knight and the mountaineer proceed toward the Lowland
+     frontier. A dispute arises concerning the character of Roderick
+     Dhu, and the knight expresses his desire to meet in person and do
+     vengeance upon the predatory chief. 'Have then thy wish!' answers
+     his guide; and gives a loud whistle. A whole legion of armed men
+     start up from their mountain ambush in the heath; while the chief
+     turns proudly and says, 'I am Roderick Dhu!' Sir Roderick then by a
+     signal dismisses his men to their concealment. Arrived at his
+     frontier, the chief forces the knight to stand upon his defense.
+     Roderick, after a hard combat is laid wounded on the ground;
+     Fitz-James, sounding his bugle, brings four squires to his side;
+     and, after giving the wounded chief into their charge, gallops
+     rapidly on towards Stirling. As he ascends the hill to the castle,
+     he descries approaching the same place the giant form of Douglas,
+     who has come to deliver himself up to the King, in order to save
+     Malcolm Graeme and Sir Roderick from the impending danger. Before
+     entering the castle, Douglas is seized with the whim to engage in
+     the holiday sports which are going forward outside; he wins prize
+     after prize, and receives his reward from the hand of the prince,
+     who, however does not condescend to recognize his former favorite.
+     Roused at last by an insult from one of the royal grooms, Douglas
+     proclaims himself, and is ordered into custody by the King. At this
+     instant a messenger arrives with tidings of an approaching battle
+     between the clan of Roderick and the King's lieutenant, the Earl of
+     Mar; and is ordered back to prevent the conflict, by announcing
+     that both Sir Roderick and Lord Douglas are in the hands of their
+     sovereign.
+
+     "The last canto opens in the guard room of the royal castle at
+     Stirling, at dawn. While the mercenaries are quarreling and singing
+     at the close of a night of debauch, the sentinels introduce Ellen
+     and the minstrel Allan-bane--who are come in search of Douglas.
+     Ellen awes the ruffian soldiery by her grace and liberality, and is
+     at length conducted to a more seemly waiting place, until she may
+     obtain audience with the King. While Allan-bane, in the cell of Sir
+     Roderick, sings to the dying chieftain of the glorious battle which
+     has just been waged by his clansmen against the forces of the Earl
+     of Mar, Ellen, in another part of the palace, hears the voice of
+     Malcolm Graeme lamenting his captivity from an adjoining turret.
+     Before she recovers from her agitation she is startled by the
+     appearance of Fitz-James, who comes to inform her that the court is
+     assembled, and the King at leisure to receive her suit. He conducts
+     her to the hall of presence, round which Ellen casts a timid and
+     eager glance for the monarch. But all the glittering figures are
+     uncovered, and James Fitz-James alone wears his cap and plume. The
+     Knight of Snowdoun is the King of Scotland! Struck with awe and
+     terror, Ellen falls speechless at his feet, pointing to the ring
+     which he has put upon her finger. The prince raises her with eager
+     kindness, declares that her father is forgiven, and bids her ask
+     for a boon for some other person. The name of Graeme trembles on
+     her lips, but she cannot trust herself to utter it. The King, in
+     playful vengeance, condemns Malcolm Graeme to fetters, takes a
+     chain of gold from his own neck, and throwing it over that of the
+     young chief, puts the clasp in the hand of Ellen."
+
+From this outline, it will be evident that Scott had gained greatly in
+narrative power since the production of _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_.
+Not only are the elements of the "fable" (to use the word in its
+old-fashioned sense) harmonious and probable, but the various incidents
+grow out of each other in a natural and necessary way. The _Lay_ was at
+best a skillful bit of carpentering whereof the several parts were
+nicely juxtaposed; _The Lady of the Lake_ is an organism, and its
+several members partake of a common life. A few weaknesses may, it is
+true, be pointed out in it. The warning of Fitz-James by the mad woman's
+song makes too large a draft upon our romantic credulity. Her appearance
+is at once so accidental and so opportune that it resembles those
+supernatural interventions employed by ancient tragedy to cut the knot
+of a difficult situation, which have given rise to the phrase _deus ex
+machina_. The improbability of the episode is further increased by the
+fact that she puts her warning in the form of a song. Scott's love of
+romantic episode manifestly led him astray here. Further, the story as a
+whole shares with all stories which turn upon the revelation of a
+concealed identity, the disadvantage of being able to affect the reader
+powerfully but once, since on a second reading the element of suspense
+and surprise is lacking. In so far as _The Lady of the Lake_ is a mere
+story, or as it has been called, a "versified novelette," this is not a
+weakness; but in so far as it is a poem, with the claim which poetry
+legitimately makes to be read and reread for its intrinsic beauty, it
+constitutes a real defect.
+
+Not only does this poem, with the slight exceptions just mentioned, show
+a gain over the earlier poems in narrative power, but it also marks an
+advance in character delineation. The characters of the _Lay_ are, with
+one or two exceptions, mere lay-figures; Lord Cranstoun and Margaret are
+the most conventional of lovers; William of Deloraine is little more
+than an animated suit of armor, and the Lady of Branksome, except at one
+point, when from her walls she defies the English invaders, is nearly or
+quite featureless. With the characters of _The Lady of the Lake_ the
+case is very different. The three rivals for Ellen's hand are real men,
+with individualities which enhance and deepen the picturesqueness of
+each other by contrast. The easy grace and courtly chivalry, of the
+disguised King, the quick kindling of his fancy at sight of the
+mysterious maid of Loch Katrine, his quick generosity in relinquishing
+his suit when he finds that she loves another, make him one of the most
+life-like figures of romance. Roderick Dhu, nursing darkly his clannish
+hatreds, his hopeless love, and his bitter jealousy, with a delicate
+chivalry sending its bright thread through the tissue of his savage
+nature, is drawn with an equally convincing hand. Against his gloomy
+figure the boyish magnanimity of Malcolm Graeme, Ellen's brave
+faithfulness, made human by a surface play of coquetry, and the quiet
+nobility of the exiled Douglas, stand out in varied relief. Judged in
+connection with the more conventional character types of _Marmion_, and
+with the draped automatons of the _Lay_, the characters of _The Lady of
+the Lake_ show the gradual growth in Scott of that dramatic imagination
+which was later to fill the vast scene of his prose romances with
+unforgettable figures.
+
+But the most significant advance which this poem shows over earlier work
+is in the greater genuineness of the poetic effect. In the description,
+for example, of the approach of Roderick Dhu's boats to the island,
+there is a singular depth of race feeling. There is borne in upon us, as
+we read, the realization of a wild and peculiar civilization; we get a
+breath of poetry keen and strange, like the shrilling of the bag-pipes
+across the water. Again, in the speeding of the fiery cross there is a
+primitive depth of poetry which carries with it a sense of "old,
+unhappy, far-off things"; it appeals to latent memories in us, which
+have been handed down from an ancestral past. There is nothing in either
+_The Lay of the Last Minstrel_ or _Marmion_ to compare for natural
+dramatic force with the situation in _The Lady of the Lake_ when
+Roderick Dhu whistles for his clansmen to appear, and the astonished
+Fitz-James sees the lonely mountain side suddenly bristle with tartans
+and spears; and the fight which follows at the ford is a real fight, in
+a sense not at all to be applied to the tournaments and other
+conventional encounters of the earlier poems. Even where Scott still
+clung to supernatural devices to help along his story, he handles them
+with much greater subtlety than he had done in his earlier efforts. The
+dropping of Douglas's sword from its scabbard when his disguised enemy
+enters the room, arouses the imagination without burdening it. It has
+the same imaginative advantage over such an episode as that in the
+_Lay_, where the ghost of the wizard comes to bear off the goblin page,
+as suggestion always has over explicit statement. This gain in subtlety
+of treatment will be made still more apparent by comparing with any
+supernatural episode of the _Lay_, the account in _The Lady of the Lake_
+of the unearthly parentage of Brian the Hermit.
+
+The gain in style is less perceptible. Scott was never a great stylist;
+he struck out at the very first a nervous, hurrying meter, and a strong
+though rather commonplace diction, upon which he never substantially
+improved. Abundant action, rapid transitions, stirring descriptions,
+common sentiments and ordinary language heightened by a dash of pomp and
+novelty, above all a pervading animation, spirit, intrepidity--these are
+the constant elements of Scott's success, present here in their
+accustomed measure. In the broader sense of style, however, where the
+word is understood to include all the processes leading to a given
+poetical effect, _The Lady of the Lake_ has some advantage, even over
+_Marmion_. It contains nothing, to be sure, so fine or so typical of
+Scott's peculiar power, as the account of the Battle of Flodden in
+_Marmion_; the minstrel's recital of the battle of Beal' an Duine does
+not abide the comparison. The quieter parts of _The Lady of the Lake_,
+moreover, are sometimes disfigured by a sentimentality and "prettiness"
+happily unfrequent with Scott. But the description of the approach of
+Roderick Dhu's war-boats, already mentioned, the superb landscape
+delineation in the fifth canto, and the beautiful twilight ending of
+canto third, can well stand as prime types of Scott's stylistic power.
+
+
+
+
+THE LADY OF THE LAKE
+
+
+
+
+CANTO FIRST
+
+THE CHASE
+
+
+  Harp of the North! that moldering 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--                     5
+    O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep?
+  Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring,
+    Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep,
+  Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep?
+
+  Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon,                           10
+    Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd,
+  When lay of hopeless love, or glory won,
+    Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud.
+  At each according pause, was heard aloud
+    Thine ardent symphony sublime and high!                       15
+  Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed;
+    For still the burden of thy minstrelsy
+  Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye.
+
+  O wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand
+    That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray;                   20
+  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,                      25
+    The wizard note has not been touched 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                             30
+  In lone Glenartney's hazel shade;
+  But, when the sun his beacon red
+  Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head,
+  The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay
+  Resounded up the rocky way,                                     35
+  And faint, from farther distance borne,
+  Were heard the clanging hoof and horn.
+
+
+II
+
+  As Chief, who hears his warder call,
+  "To arms! the foemen storm the wall,"
+  The antlered monarch of the waste                               40
+  Sprung from his heathery couch in haste.
+  But ere his fleet career he took,
+  The dew-drops from his flanks he shook;
+  Like crested leader proud and high,
+  Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky;                          45
+  A moment gazed adown the dale,
+  A moment snuffed the tainted gale,
+  A moment listened to the cry,
+  That thickened as the chase drew nigh;
+  Then, as the headmost foes appeared,                            50
+  With one brave bound the copse he cleared,
+  And, stretching forward free and far,
+  Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.
+
+
+III
+
+  Yelled on the view the opening pack;
+  Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back;                         55
+  To many a mingled sound at once
+  The awakened mountain gave response.
+  A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong,
+  Clattered a hundred steeds along,
+  Their peal the merry horns rung out,                            60
+  A hundred voices joined the shout;
+  With hark and whoop and wild halloo,
+  No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew.
+  Far from the tumult fled the roe;
+  Close in her covert cowered the doe;                            65
+  The falcon, from her cairn on high,
+  Cast on the rout a wondering eye,
+  Till far beyond her piercing ken
+  The hurricane had swept the glen.
+  Faint, and more faint, its failing din                          70
+  Returned from cavern, cliff, and linn,
+  And silence settled, wide and still,
+  On the lone wood and mighty hill.
+
+
+IV
+
+  Less loud the sounds of silvan war
+  Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var,                               75
+  And roused the cavern, where, 'tis told,
+  A giant made his den of old;
+  For ere that steep ascent was won,
+  High in his pathway hung the sun,
+  And many a gallant, stayed perforce,                            80
+  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.                          85
+
+
+V
+
+  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 wandered o'er                               90
+  Mountain and meadow, moss and moor,
+  And pondered refuge from his toil,
+  By far Lochard or Aberfoyle.
+  But nearer was the copsewood grey,
+  That waved and wept on Loch-Achray,                             95
+  And mingled with the pine-trees blue
+  On the bold cliffs of Benvenue.
+  Fresh vigor with the hope returned,
+  With flying foot the heath he spurned,
+  Held westward with unwearied race,                             100
+  And left behind the panting chase.
+
+
+VI
+
+  'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er,
+  As swept the hunt through Cambusmore;
+  What reins were tightened in despair,
+  When rose Benledi's ridge in air;                              105
+  Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath,
+  Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith--
+  For twice that day, from shore to shore,
+  The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er.
+  Few were the stragglers, following far,                        110
+  That reached the lake of Vennachar;
+  And when the Brigg of Turk was won,
+  The headmost horseman rode alone.
+
+
+VII
+
+  Alone, but with unbated zeal,
+  That horseman plied the scourge and steel;                     115
+  For jaded now, and spent with toil,
+  Embossed with foam, and dark with soil,
+  While every gasp with sobs he drew,
+  The laboring stag strained full in view.
+  Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed,                        120
+  Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed,
+  Fast on his flying traces came,
+  And all but won that desperate game;
+  For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch,
+  Vindictive, toiled the bloodhounds stanch;                     125
+  Nor nearer might the dogs attain,
+  Nor farther might the quarry strain.
+  Thus up the margin of the lake,
+  Between the precipice and brake,
+  O'er stock and rock their race they take.                      130
+
+
+VIII
+
+  The Hunter marked that mountain high,
+  The lone lake's western boundary,
+  And deemed the stag must turn to bay,
+  Where that huge rampart barred the way;
+  Already glorying in the prize,                                 135
+  Measured his antlers with his eyes;
+  For the death-wound and the death-halloo,
+  Mustered his breath, his whinyard drew--
+  But thundering as he came prepared,
+  With ready arm and weapon bared,                               140
+  The wily quarry shunned the shock,
+  And turned him from the opposing rock;
+  Then, dashing down a darksome glen,
+  Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken,
+  In the deep Trossachs' wildest nook                            145
+  His solitary refuge took.
+  There, while close couched, the thicket shed
+  Cold dews and wild-flowers on his head,
+  He heard the baffled dogs in vain
+  Rave through the hollow pass amain,                            150
+  Chiding the rocks that yelled again.
+
+
+IX
+
+  Close on the hounds the Hunter came,
+  To cheer them on the vanished game;
+  But, stumbling in the rugged dell,
+  The gallant horse exhausted fell.                              155
+  The impatient rider strove in vain
+  To rouse him with the spur and rein,
+  For the good steed, his labors o'er,
+  Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more;
+  Then, touched with pity and remorse,                           160
+  He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse.
+  "I little thought, when first thy rein
+  I slacked upon the banks of Seine,
+  That Highland eagle e'er should feed
+  On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed!                        165
+  Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day,
+  That costs thy life, my gallant gray!"
+
+
+X
+
+  Then through the dell his horn resounds,
+  From vain pursuit to call the hounds.
+  Back limped, with slow and crippled pace,                      170
+  The sulky leaders of the chase;
+  Close to their master's side they pressed,
+  With drooping tail and humbled crest;
+  But still the dingle's hollow throat
+  Prolonged the swelling bugle-note.                             175
+  The owlets started from their dream,
+  The eagles answered with their scream,
+  Round and around the sounds were cast,
+  Till echo seemed an answering blast;
+  And on the Hunter hied his way,                                180
+  To join some comrades of the day;
+  Yet often paused, so strange the road,
+  So wondrous were the scenes it showed.
+
+
+XI
+
+  The western waves of ebbing day
+  Rolled o'er the glen their level way;                          185
+  Each purple peak, each flinty spire,
+  Was bathed in floods of living fire.
+  But not a setting beam could glow
+  Within the dark ravines below,
+  Where twined the path in shadow hid,                           190
+  Round many a rocky pyramid,
+  Shooting abruptly from the dell
+  Its thunder-splintered pinnacle;
+  Round many an insulated mass,
+  The native bulwarks of the pass,                               195
+  Huge as the tower which builders vain
+  Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain.
+  The rocky summits, split and rent,
+  Formed turret, dome, or battlement,
+  Or seemed fantastically set                                    200
+  With cupola or minaret,
+  Wild crests as pagod ever decked,
+  Or mosque of Eastern architect.
+  Nor were these earth-born castles bare,
+  Nor lacked they many a banner fair;                            205
+  For, from their shivered brows displayed,
+  Far o'er the unfathomable glade,
+  All twinkling with the dewdrops sheen,
+  The brier-rose fell in streamers green,
+  And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes,                         210
+  Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs.
+
+
+XII
+
+  Boon nature scattered, free and wild,
+  Each plant or flower, the mountain's child.
+  Here eglantine embalmed the air,
+  Hawthorn and hazel mingled there;                              215
+  The primrose pale and violet flower,
+  Found in each cliff a narrow bower;
+  Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side,
+  Emblems of punishment and pride,
+  Grouped their dark hues with every stain                       220
+  The weather-beaten crags retain.
+  With boughs that quaked at every breath,
+  Grey birch and aspen wept beneath;
+  Aloft, the ash and warrior oak
+  Cast anchor in the rifted rock;                                225
+  And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung
+  His shattered trunk, and frequent flung,
+  Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high,
+  His bows athwart the narrowed sky.
+  Highest of all, where white peaks glanced,                     230
+  Where glist'ning streamers waved and danced,
+  The wanderer's eye could barely view
+  The summer heaven's delicious blue;
+  So wondrous wild, the whole might seem
+  The scenery of a fairy dream.                                  235
+
+
+XIII
+
+  Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep
+  A narrow inlet, still and deep,
+  Affording scarce such breadth of brim
+  As served the wild duck's brood to swim.
+  Lost for a space, through thickets veering,                    240
+  But broader when again appearing,
+  Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face
+  Could on the dark-blue mirror trace;
+  And farther as the Hunter strayed,
+  Still broader sweep its channels made.                         245
+  The shaggy mounds no longer stood,
+  Emerging from entangled wood,
+  But, wave-encircled, seemed to float,
+  Like castle girdled with its moat;
+  Yet broader floods extending still                             250
+  Divide them from their parent hill,
+  Till each, retiring, claims to be
+  An islet in an inland sea.
+
+
+XIV
+
+  And now, to issue from the glen,
+  No pathway meets the wanderer's ken,                           255
+  Unless he climb, with footing nice,
+  A far projecting precipice.
+  The broom's tough roots his ladder made,
+  The hazel saplings lent their aid;
+  And thus an airy point he won,                                 260
+  Where, gleaming with the setting sun,
+  One burnished sheet of living gold,
+  Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled,
+  In all her length far winding lay,
+  With promontory, creek, and bay,                               265
+  And island that, empurpled bright,
+  Floated amid the livelier light,
+  And mountains, that like giants stand,
+  To sentinel enchanted land.
+  High on the south, huge Benvenue                               270
+  Down on the lake in masses threw
+  Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled,
+  The fragments of an earlier world;
+  A wildering forest feathered o'er
+  His ruined sides and summit hoar,                              275
+  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,                       280
+  "For princely pomp, or churchman's pride!
+  On this bold brow, a lordly tower;
+  In that soft vale, a lady's bower;
+  On yonder meadow, far away,
+  The turrets of a cloister gray;                                285
+  How blithely might the bugle-horn
+  Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn!
+  How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute
+  Chime, when the groves were still and mute!
+  And when the midnight moon should lave                         290
+  Her forehead in the silver wave,
+  How solemn on the ear would come
+  The holy matin's distant hum,
+  While the deep peal's commanding tone
+  Should wake, in yonder islet lone,                             295
+  A sainted hermit from his cell,
+  To drop a bead with every knell--
+  And bugle, lute, and bell, and all,
+  Should each bewildered stranger call
+  To friendly feast, and lighted hall.                           300
+
+
+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,                              305
+  Some rustling oak my canopy.
+  Yet pass we that; the war and chase
+  Give little choice of resting-place--
+  A summer night, in greenwood spent,
+  Were but tomorrow's merriment:                                 310
+  But hosts may in these wilds abound,
+  Such as are better missed than found;
+  To meet with Highland plunderers here,
+  Were worse than loss of steed or deer.
+  I am alone; my bugle-strain                                    315
+  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,                          320
+  From underneath an aged oak,
+  That slanted from the islet rock,
+  A damsel guider of its way,
+  A little skiff shot to the bay,
+  That round the promontory steep                                325
+  Led its deep line in graceful sweep,
+  Eddying, in almost viewless wave,
+  The weeping willow-twig to lave,
+  And kiss, with whispering sound and slow,
+  The beach of pebbles bright as snow.                           330
+  The boat had touched the silver strand,
+  Just as the Hunter left his stand,
+  And stood concealed amid the brake,
+  To view this Lady of the Lake.
+  The maiden paused, as if again                                 335
+  She thought to catch the distant strain.
+  With head upraised, and look intent,
+  And eye and ear attentive bent,
+  And locks flung back, and lips apart,
+  Like monument of Grecian art,                                  340
+  In listening mood, she seemed to stand,
+  The guardian Naiad of the strand.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace
+  A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace
+  Of finer form or lovelier face!                                345
+  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                            350
+  Short glimpses of a breast of snow.
+  What though no rule of courtly grace
+  To measured mood had trained her pace,--
+  A foot more light, a step more true,
+  Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew;                    355
+  E'en the slight harebell raised its head,
+  Elastic from her airy tread.
+  What though upon her speech there hung
+  The accents of the mountain tongue--
+  Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear,                         360
+  The listener held his breath to hear!
+
+
+XIX
+
+  A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid;
+  Her satin snood, her silken plaid,
+  Her golden brooch such birth betrayed.
+  And seldom was a snood amid                                    365
+  Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid,
+  Whose glossy black to shame might bring
+  The plumage of the raven's wing;
+  And seldom o'er a breast so fair,
+  Mantled a plaid with modest care,                              370
+  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,                               375
+  Gives back the shaggy banks more true,
+  Than every free-born glance confessed
+  The guileless movements of her breast;
+  Whether joy danced in her dark eye,
+  Or woe or pity claimed a sigh,                                 380
+  Or filial love was glowing there,
+  Or meek devotion poured a prayer,
+  Or tale of injury called forth
+  The indignant spirit of the North.
+  One only passion unrevealed,                                   385
+  With maiden pride the maid concealed,
+  Yet not less purely felt the flame--
+  Oh! need I tell that passion's name!
+
+
+XX
+
+  Impatient of the silent horn,
+  Now on the gale her voice was borne:                           390
+  "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
+  Less resolutely uttered fell,                                  395
+  The echoes could not catch the swell.
+  "A stranger I," the Huntsman said,
+  Advancing from the hazel shade.
+  The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar,
+  Pushed her light shallop from the shore,                       400
+  And when a space was gained between,
+  Closer she drew her bosom's screen--
+  So forth the startled swan would swing,
+  So turn to prune his ruffled wing.
+  Then safe, though fluttered and amazed,                        405
+  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 pressed its signet sage,                          410
+  Yet had not quenched 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,                      415
+  Of hasty love, or headlong ire.
+  His limbs were cast in manly mold,
+  For hardy sports or contest bold;
+  And though in peaceful garb arrayed,
+  And weaponless, except his blade,                              420
+  His stately mien as well implied
+  A high-born heart, a martial pride,
+  As if a Baron's crest he wore,
+  And sheathed in armor trod the shore.
+  Slighting the petty need he showed,                            425
+  He told of his benighted road;
+  His ready speech flowed fair and free,
+  In phrase of gentlest courtesy;
+  Yet seemed that tone, and gesture bland,
+  Less used to sue than to command.                              430
+
+
+XXII
+
+  A while the maid the stranger eyed,
+  And, reassured, at length replied,
+  That Highland halls were open still
+  To wildered wanderers of the hill.
+  "Nor think you unexpected come                                 435
+  To yon lone isle, our desert home;
+  Before the heath had lost the dew,
+  This morn, a couch was pulled for you;
+  On yonder mountain's purple head
+  Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled,                            440
+  And our broad nets have swept the mere,
+  To furnish forth your evening cheer."
+  "Now, by the rood, my lovely maid,
+  Your courtesy has erred," he said;
+  "No right have I to claim, misplaced,                          445
+  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,                             450
+  Till on this lake's romantic strand,
+  I found a fay in fairy land!"
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  "I well believe," the maid replied,
+  As her light skiff approached the side,
+  "I well believe, that ne'er before                             455
+  Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore;
+  But yet, as far as yesternight,
+  Old Allan-bane foretold your plight,
+  A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent
+  Was on the visioned future bent.                               460
+  He saw your steed, a dappled gray,
+  Lie dead beneath the birchen way;
+  Painted exact your form and mien,
+  Your hunting suit of Lincoln green,
+  That tasselled horn so gaily gilt,                             465
+  That falchion's crooked blade and hilt,
+  That cap with heron plumage trim,
+  And yon two hounds so dark and grim.
+  He bade that all should ready be,
+  To grace a guest of fair degree;                               470
+  But light I held his prophecy,
+  And deemed it was my father's horn,
+  Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne."
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  The stranger smiled: "Since to your home
+  A destined errant-knight I come,                               475
+  Announced by prophet sooth and old,
+  Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold,
+  I'll lightly front each high emprise,
+  For one kind glance of those bright eyes.
+  Permit me, first, the task to guide                            480
+  Your fairy frigate o'er the tide."
+  The maid with smile suppressed and sly,
+  The toil unwonted saw him try;
+  For seldom sure, if e'er before,
+  His noble hand had grasped an oar.                             485
+  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                         490
+  The dark'ning mirror of the lake,
+  Until the rocky isle they reach,
+  And moor their shallop on the beach.
+
+
+XXV
+
+  The stranger viewed the shore around,
+  'Twas all so close with copsewood bound,                       495
+  Nor track nor pathway might declare
+  That human foot frequented there,
+  Until the mountain-maiden showed
+  A clambering, unsuspected road,
+  That winded through the tangled screen,                        500
+  And opened on a narrow green,
+  Where weeping birch and willow round
+  With their long fibres swept the ground.
+  Here, for retreat in dangerous hour,
+  Some chief had framed a rustic bower.                          505
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  It was a lodge of ample size,
+  But strange of structure and device;
+  Of such materials as around
+  The workman's hand had readiest found.
+  Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared,               510
+  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.                           515
+  The lighter pine-trees overhead,
+  Their slender length for rafters spread,
+  And withered heath and rushes dry
+  Supplied a russet canopy.
+  Due westward, fronting to the green,                           520
+  A rural portico was seen,
+  Aloft on native pillars borne,
+  Of mountain fir with bark unshorn,
+  Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine
+  The ivy and Idaean vine,                                       525
+  The clematis, the favored 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 stayed                            530
+  And gaily to the stranger said,
+  "On heaven and on thy lady call,
+  And enter the enchanted hall!"
+
+
+XXVII
+
+  "My hope, my heaven, my trust must be,
+  My gentle guide, in following thee."                           535
+  He crossed the threshold--and a clang
+  Of angry steel that instant rang.
+  To his bold brow his spirit rushed,
+  But soon for vain alarm he blushed,
+  When on the floor he saw displayed,                            540
+  Cause of the din, a naked blade
+  Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung
+  Upon a stag's huge antlers swung;
+  For all around, the walls to grace,
+  Hung trophies of the fight or chase:                           545
+  A target there, a bugle here,
+  A battle-ax, a hunting spear,
+  And broadswords, bows, and arrows store,
+  With the tusked trophies of the boar.
+  Here grins the wolf as when he died,                           550
+  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 stained,
+  That blackening streaks of blood retained,                     555
+  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.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+  The wondering stranger round him gazed,                        560
+  And next the fallen weapon raised--
+  Few were the arms whose sinewy strength,
+  Sufficed to stretch it forth at length.
+  And as the brand he poised and swayed,
+  "I never knew but one," he said,                               565
+  "Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield
+  A blade like this in battle-field."
+  She sighed, then smiled and took the word:
+  "You see the guardian champion's sword;
+  As light it trembles in his hand,                              570
+  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."                               575
+
+
+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,                        580
+  Young Ellen gave a mother's due.
+  Meet welcome to her guest she made,
+  And every courteous rite was paid,
+  That hospitality could claim,
+  Though all unasked his birth and name.                         585
+  Such then the reverence to a guest,
+  That fellest foe might join the feast,
+  And from his deadliest foeman's door
+  Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er.
+  At length his rank the stranger names,                         590
+  "The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James;
+  Lord of a barren heritage,
+  Which his brave sires, from age to age,
+  By their good swords had held with toil;
+  His sire had fallen in such turmoil,                           595
+  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,
+  Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer,                     600
+  Lost his good steed, and wandered here."
+
+
+XXX
+
+  Fain would the Knight in turn require
+  The name and state of Ellen's sire.
+  Well showed the elder lady's mien,
+  That courts and cities she had seen;                           605
+  Ellen, though more her looks displayed
+  The simple grace of silvan maid,
+  In speech and gesture, form and face,
+  Showed she was come of gentle race.
+  'Twere strange in ruder rank to find                           610
+  Such looks, such manners, and such mind.
+  Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave,
+  Dame Margaret heard with silence grave;
+  Or Ellen, innocently gay,
+  Turned all inquiry light away:                                 615
+  "Weird women we--by dale and down
+  We dwell, afar from tower and town.
+  We stem the flood, we ride the blast,
+  On wandering knights our spells we cast;
+  While viewless minstrels touch the string,                     620
+  'Tis thus our charmed rimes we sing."
+  She sung, and still a harp unseen
+  Filled up the symphony between.
+
+
+XXXI
+
+SONG
+
+  "Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
+    Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking;                      625
+  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,                                   630
+    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.                             635
+
+  "No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
+    Armor's clang, or war-steed champing,
+  Trump nor pibroch summon here
+    Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
+  Yet the lark's shrill fife may come                            640
+    At the day-break from the fallow,
+  And the bittern sound his drum,
+    Booming from the sedgy shallow.
+  Ruder sounds shall none be near,
+  Guards nor warders challenge here,                             645
+  Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,
+  Shouting clans or squadrons stamping."
+
+
+XXXII
+
+  She paused--then, blushing, led the lay
+  To grace the stranger of the day.
+  Her mellow notes awhile prolong                                650
+  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,                        655
+  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,                               660
+    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."                                665
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+  The hall was cleared--the stranger's bed
+  Was there of mountain heather spread,
+  Where oft a hundred guests had lain,
+  And dreamed their forest sports again.
+  But vainly did the heath-flower shed                           670
+  Its moorland fragrance round his head;
+  Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest
+  The fever of his troubled breast.
+  In broken dreams the image rose
+  Of varied perils, pains, and woes:                             675
+  His steed now flounders in the brake,
+  Now sinks his barge upon the lake;
+  Now leader of a broken host,
+  His standard falls, his honor's lost.
+  Then--from my couch may heavenly might                         680
+  Chase that worst phantom of the night!
+  Again returned the scenes of youth,
+  Of confident undoubting truth;
+  Again his soul he interchanged
+  With friends whose hearts were long estranged.                 685
+  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--                          690
+  O were his senses false or true?
+  Dreamed he of death, or broken vow,
+  Or is it all a vision now?
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+  At length, with Ellen in a grove
+  He seemed to walk, and speak of love;                          695
+  She listened with a blush and sigh,
+  His suit was warm, his hopes were high.
+  He sought her yielded hand to clasp,
+  And a cold gauntlet met his grasp;
+  The phantom's sex was changed and gone,                        700
+  Upon its head a helmet shone;
+  Slowly enlarged to giant size,
+  With darkened cheek and threatening eyes,
+  The grisly visage, stern and hoar,
+  To Ellen still a likeness bore.                                705
+  He woke, and, panting with affright,
+  Recalled the vision of the night.
+  The hearth's decaying brands were red.
+  And deep and dusky luster shed,
+  Half showing, half concealing, all                             710
+  The uncouth trophies of the hall.
+  Mid those the stranger fixed his eye,
+  Where that huge falchion hung on high,
+  And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng,
+  Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along.                      715
+  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 swept in fragrant balm,                        720
+  The aspens slept beneath the calm;
+  The silver light, with quivering glance,
+  Played on the water's still expanse--
+  Wild were the heart whose passion's sway
+  Could rage beneath the sober ray!                              725
+  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,                                 730
+  But she must bear the Douglas eye?
+  Can I not view a Highland brand,
+  But it must match the Douglas hand?
+  Can I not frame a fevered dream,
+  But still the Douglas is the theme?                            735
+  I'll dream no more--by manly mind
+  Not even in sleep is will resigned.
+  My midnight orisons said o'er,
+  I'll turn to rest, and dream no more."
+  His midnight orisons he told,                                  740
+  A prayer with every bead of gold,
+  Consigned to heaven his cares and woes,
+  And sunk in undisturbed repose,
+  Until the heath-cock shrilly crew,
+  And morning dawned on Benvenue.                                745
+
+
+
+
+CANTO SECOND
+
+THE ISLAND
+
+
+I
+
+  At morn the blackcock 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,                   5
+    Wafting the stranger on his way again,
+  Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray,
+    And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain,
+  Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan-bane!
+
+
+II
+
+SONG
+
+  "Not faster yonder rowers' might                                10
+    Flings from their oars the spray,
+  Not faster yonder rippling bright,
+  That tracks the shallop's course in light,
+    Melts in the lake away,
+  Than men from memory erase                                      15
+  The benefits of former days;
+  Then, stranger, go! good speed the while,
+  Nor think again of the lonely isle.
+
+  "High place to thee in royal court,
+    High place in battle line,                                    20
+  Good hawk and hound for silvan sport,
+  Where beauty sees the brave resort;
+    The honored meed be thine!
+  True be thy sword, thy friend sincere,
+  Thy lady constant, kind and dear,                               25
+  And lost in love, and friendship's smile
+  Be memory of the lonely isle.
+
+
+III
+
+SONG (_Continued_)
+
+  "But if beneath yon southern sky
+    A plaided stranger roam,
+  Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh,                          30
+  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,                                35
+  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 thou sustain                               40
+    Beneath the fickle gale;
+  Waste not a sigh on fortune changed,
+  On thankless courts, or friends estranged,
+  But come where kindred worth shall smile,
+  To greet thee in the lonely isle."                              45
+
+
+IV
+
+  As died the sounds upon the tide,
+  The shallop reached the mainland side,
+  And ere his onward way he took,
+  The stranger cast a lingering look,
+  Where easily his eye might reach                                50
+  The Harper on the islet beach,
+  Reclined against a blighted tree,
+  As wasted, gray, and worn as he.
+  To minstrel meditation given,
+  His reverend brow was raised to heaven,                         55
+  As from the rising sun to claim
+  A sparkle of inspiring flame.
+  His hand, reclined upon the wire,
+  Seemed watching the awakening fire;
+  So still he sat, as those who wait                              60
+  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.                            65
+
+
+V
+
+  Upon a rock with lichens wild,
+  Beside him Ellen sat and smiled--
+  Smiled she to see the stately drake
+  Lead forth his fleet upon the lake,
+  While her vexed spaniel, from the beach                         70
+  Bayed at the prize beyond his reach?
+  Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows,
+  Why deepened on her cheek the rose?
+  Forgive, forgive, Fidelity!
+  Perchance the maiden smiled to see                              75
+  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,                            80
+  And prize such conquest of her eye!
+
+
+VI
+
+  While yet he loitered on the spot,
+  It seemed as Ellen marked him not;
+  But when he turned him to the glade,
+  One courteous parting sign she made;                            85
+  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,                                  90
+  As at that simple mute farewell.
+  Now with a trusty mountain-guide,
+  And his dark stag-hounds by his side,
+  He parts--the maid, unconscious still,
+  Watched him wind slowly round the hill;                         95
+  But when his stately form was hid,
+  The guardian in her bosom chid--
+  "Thy Malcolm! vain and selfish maid!"
+  'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said--
+  "Not so had Malcolm idly hung                                  100
+  On the smooth phrase of southern tongue;
+  Not so had Malcolm strained his eye
+  Another step than thine to spy.
+  Wake, Allan-bane," aloud she cried,
+  To the old Minstrel by her side--                              105
+  "Arouse thee from thy moody dream!
+  I'll give thy harp heroic theme,
+  And warm thee with a noble name;
+  Pour forth the glory of the Graeme!"
+  Scarce from her lip the word had rushed,                       110
+  When deep the conscious maiden blushed;
+  For of his clan, in hall and bower,
+  Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower.
+
+
+VII
+
+  The Minstrel waked his harp--three times
+  Arose the well-known martial chimes,                           115
+  And thrice their high heroic pride
+  In melancholy murmurs died.
+  "Vainly thou bid'st, O noble maid,"
+  Clasping his withered hands, he said,
+  "Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain,                        120
+  Though all unwont to bid in vain.
+  Alas! than mine a mightier hand
+  Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned!
+  I touch the chords of joy, but low
+  And mournful answer notes of woe;                              125
+  And the proud march, which victors tread,
+  Sinks in the wailing for the dead.
+  O well for me, if mine alone
+  That dirge's deep prophetic tone!
+  If, as my tuneful fathers said,                                130
+  This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed,
+  Can thus its master's fate foretell,
+  Then welcome be the minstrel's knell!
+
+
+VIII
+
+  "But ah! dear lady, thus it sighed
+  The eve thy sainted mother died;                               135
+  And such the sounds which, while I strove
+  To wake a lay of war or love,
+  Came marring all the festal mirth,
+  Appalling me who gave them birth,
+  And, disobedient to my call,                                   140
+  Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall,
+  Ere Douglases to ruin driven,
+  Were exiled from their native heaven.
+  Oh! if yet worse mishap and woe,
+  My master's house must undergo,                                145
+  Or aught but weal to Ellen fair,
+  Brood in these accents of despair,
+  No future bard, sad Harp! shall fling
+  Triumph or rapture from thy string;
+  One short, one final strain shall flow,                        150
+  Fraught with unutterable woe,
+  Then shivered shall thy fragments lie,
+  Thy master cast him down and die!"
+
+
+IX
+
+  Soothing she answered him--"Assuage,
+  Mine honored friend, the fears of age;                         155
+  All melodies to thee are known,
+  That harp has rung, or pipe has blown,
+  In Lowland vale or Highland glen,
+  From Tweed to Spey--what marvel, then,
+  At times, unbidden notes should rise,                          160
+  Confusedly bound in memory's ties,
+  Entangling, as they rush along,
+  The war-march with the funeral song?
+  Small ground is now for boding fear;
+  Obscure, but safe, we rest us here.                            165
+  My sire, in native virtue great,
+  Resigning lordship, lands, and state,
+  Not then to fortune more resigned,
+  Than yonder oak might give the wind;
+  The graceful foliage storms may reave,                         170
+  The noble stem they cannot grieve.
+  For me,"--she stooped, and, looking round,
+  Plucked a blue hare-bell from the ground--
+  "For me, whose memory scarce conveys
+  An image of more splendid days,                                175
+  This little flower, that loves the lea,
+  May well my simple emblem be;
+  It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose
+  That in the king's own garden grows;
+  And when I place it in my hair,                                180
+  Allan, a bard is bound to swear
+  He ne'er saw coronet so fair."
+  Then playfully the chaplet wild
+  She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled.
+
+
+X
+
+  Her smile, her speech, with winning sway,                      185
+  Wiled the old harper's mood away.
+  With such a look as hermits throw,
+  When angels stoop to soothe their woe,
+  He gazed, till fond regret and pride
+  Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied:                         190
+  "Loveliest and best! thou little know'st
+  The rank, the honors, thou hast lost!
+  O might I live to see thee grace,
+  In Scotland's court, thy birth-right place,
+  To see my favorite's step advance,                             195
+  The lightest in the courtly dance,
+  The cause of every gallant's sigh,
+  And leading star of every eye,
+  And theme of every minstrel's art,
+  The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!"                               200
+
+
+XI
+
+  "Fair dreams are these," the maiden cried
+  --Light was her accent, yet she sighed--
+  "Yet is this mossy rock to me
+  Worth splendid chair and canopy;
+  Nor would my footsteps spring more gay                         205
+  In courtly dance than blithe strathspey,
+  Nor half so pleased mine ear incline
+  To royal minstrel's lay as thine.
+  And then for suitors proud and high,
+  To bend before my conquering eye--                             210
+  Thou, flattering bard! thyself wilt say,
+  That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway.
+  The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride,
+  The terror of Loch-Lomond's side,
+  Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay                         215
+  A Lennox foray--for a day."
+
+
+XII
+
+  The ancient bard his glee repressed:
+  "Ill hast thou chosen theme for jest!
+  For who, through all this western wild,
+  Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled!                     220
+  In Holy-Rood a knight he slew;
+  I saw, when back the dirk he drew,
+  Courtiers give place before the stride
+  Of the undaunted homicide;
+  And since, though outlawed, hath his hand                      225
+  Full sternly kept his mountain land.
+  Who else dared give--ah! woe the day,
+  That I such hated truth should say--
+  The Douglas, like a stricken deer,
+  Disowned by every noble peer,                                  230
+  Even the rude refuge we have here?
+  Alas, this wild marauding Chief
+  Alone might hazard our relief,
+  And now thy maiden charms expand,
+  Looks for his guerdon in thy hand;                             235
+  Full soon may dispensation sought,
+  To back his suit, from Rome he brought.
+  Then, though an exile on the hill,
+  Thy father, as the Douglas, still
+  Be held in reverence and fear;                                 240
+  And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear,
+  That thou might'st guide with silken thread,
+  Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread;
+  Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain!
+  Thy hand is on a lion's mane."                                 245
+
+
+XIII
+
+  "Minstrel," the maid replied, and high
+  Her father's soul glanced from her eye,
+  "My debts to Roderick's house I know:
+  All that a mother could bestow,
+  To Lady Margaret's care I owe,                                 250
+  Since first an orphan in the wild
+  She sorrowed o'er her sister's child;
+  To her brave chieftain son, from ire
+  Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire.                        255
+  A deeper, holier debt is owed;
+  And, could I pay it with my blood,
+  Allan! Sir Roderick should command
+  My blood, my life--but not my hand.
+  Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell
+  A votaress in Maronnan's cell;                                 260
+  Rather through realms beyond the sea,
+  Seeking the world's cold charity,
+  Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word,
+  And ne'er the name of Douglas heard,
+  An outcast pilgrim will she rove,                              265
+  Than wed the man she cannot love.
+
+
+XIV
+
+  "Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses gray--
+  That pleading look, what can it say
+  But what I own?--I grant him brave,
+  But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave;                       270
+  And generous--save vindictive mood,
+  Or jealous transport, chafe his blood;
+  I grant him true to friendly band,
+  As his claymore is to his hand;
+  But O! that very blade of steel                                275
+  More mercy for a foe would feel:
+  I grant him liberal, to fling
+  Among his clan the wealth they bring,
+  When back by lake and glen they wind,
+  And in the Lowland leave behind,                               280
+  Where once some pleasant hamlet stood,
+  A mass of ashes slaked with blood.
+  The hand that for my father fought,
+  I honor, as his daughter ought;
+  But can I clasp it reeking red,                                285
+  From peasants slaughtered in their shed?
+  No! wildly while his virtues gleam,
+  They make his passions darker seem,
+  And flash along his spirit high,
+  Like lightning o'er the midnight sky.                          290
+  While yet a child--and children know,
+  Instinctive taught, the friend and foe--
+  I shuddered at his brow of gloom,
+  His shadowy plaid, and sable plume;
+  A maiden grown, I ill could bear                               295
+  His haughty mien and lordly air;
+  But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim,
+  In serious mood, to Roderick's name,
+  I thrill with anguish! or, if e'er
+  A Douglas knew the word, with fear.                            300
+  To change such odious theme were best--
+  What think'st thou of our stranger guest?"
+
+
+XV
+
+  "What think I of him?--woe the while
+  That brought such wanderer to our isle!
+  Thy father's battle-brand, of yore                             305
+  For Tine-man forged by fairy lore.
+  What time he leagued, no longer foes,
+  His Border spears with Hotspur's bows,
+  Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow
+  The footstep of a secret foe.                                  310
+  If courtly spy hath harbored here,
+  What may we for the Douglas fear?
+  What for this island, deemed of old
+  Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold?
+  If neither spy nor foe, I pray                                 315
+  What yet may jealous Roderick say?
+  --Nay, wave not thy disdainful head,
+  Bethink thee of the discord dread,
+  That kindled when at Beltane game
+  Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme;                      320
+  Still, though thy sire the peace renewed,
+  Smolders in Roderick's breast the feud;
+  Beware!--But hark, what sounds are these?
+  My dull ears catch no faltering breeze,
+  No weeping birch, nor aspens wake,                             325
+  Nor breath is dimpling in the lake,
+  Still is the canna's hoary beard,
+  Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard--
+  And hark again! some pipe of war
+  Sends the bold pibroch from afar."                             330
+
+
+XVI
+
+  Far up the lengthened lake were spied
+  Four darkening specks upon the tide,
+  That, slow enlarging on the view,
+  Four manned and masted barges grew,
+  And, bearing downwards from Glengyle,                          335
+  Steered full upon the lonely isle;
+  The point of Brianchoil they passed,
+  And, to the windward as they cast,
+  Against the sun they gave to shine
+  The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine.                         340
+  Nearer and nearer as they bear,
+  Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air.
+  Now might you see the tartans brave,
+  And plaids and plumage dance and wave;
+  Now see the bonnets sink and rise,                             345
+  As his tough oar the rower plies;
+  See, flashing at each sturdy stroke,
+  The wave ascending into smoke;
+  See the proud pipers on the bow,
+  And mark the gaudy streamers flow                              350
+  From their loud chanters down, and sweep
+  The furrowed bosom of the deep,
+  As, rushing through the lake amain,
+  They plied the ancient Highland strain.
+
+
+XVII
+
+  Ever, as on they bore, more loud                               355
+  And louder rung the pibroch proud.
+  At first the sound, by distance tame,
+  Mellowed along the waters came,
+  And, lingering long by cape and bay,
+  Wailed every harsher note away,                                360
+  Then bursting bolder on the ear,
+  The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear;
+  Those thrilling sounds, that call the might
+  Of Old Clan-Alpine to the fight.
+  Thick beat the rapid notes, as when                            365
+  The mustering hundreds shake the glen,
+  And hurrying at the signal dread,
+  The battered earth returns their tread.
+  Then prelude light, of livelier tone,
+  Expressed their merry marching on,                             370
+  Ere peal of closing battle rose,
+  With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows;
+  And mimic din of stroke and ward,
+  As broad sword upon target jarred;
+  And groaning pause, ere yet again,                             375
+  Condensed, the battle yelled amain;
+  The rapid charge, the rallying shout,
+  Retreat borne headlong into rout,
+  And bursts of triumph, to declare
+  Clan-Alpine's conquest--all were there.                        380
+  Nor ended thus the strain; but slow
+  Sunk in a moan prolonged and low,
+  And changed the conquering clarion swell,
+  For wild lament o'er those that fell.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  The war-pipes ceased; but lake and hill                        385
+  Were busy with their echoes still;
+  And, when they slept, a vocal strain
+  Bade their hoarse chorus wake again,
+  While loud a hundred clansmen raise
+  Their voices in their Chieftain's praise.                      390
+  Each boatman, bending to his oar,
+  With measured sweep the burden bore,
+  In such wild cadence, as the breeze
+  Makes through December's leafless trees.
+  The chorus first could Allan know,                             395
+  "Roderick Vich Alpine, ho! iro!"
+  And near, and nearer as they rowed,
+  Distinct the martial ditty flowed.
+
+
+XIX
+
+BOAT SONG
+
+  Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!
+    Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine!                  400
+  Long may the tree, in his banner that glances,
+    Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line!
+          Heaven send it happy dew,
+          Earth lend it sap anew,
+    Gayly to borgeon, and broadly to grow,                       405
+          While every Highland glen
+          Sends our shout back again,
+    "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"
+
+  Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,
+    Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade;                      410
+  When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain,
+    The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade.
+          Moored in the rifted rock,
+          Proof to the tempest's shock,
+    Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;                       415
+          Menteith and Breadalbane, then,
+          Echo his praise again,
+    "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"
+
+
+XX
+
+  Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin,
+    And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied;                420
+  Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin,
+    And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side.
+          Widow and Saxon maid
+          Long shall lament our raid,
+    Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe;                 425
+          Lennox and Leven-glen
+          Shake when they hear again
+    "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"
+
+  Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the highlands!
+    Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine!               430
+  O that the rose-bud that graces yon islands,
+    Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine!
+          O that some seedling gem,
+          Worthy such noble stem,
+    Honored and blest in their shadow might grow;
+          Loud should Clan-Alpine then
+          Ring from her deepmost glen,
+    "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"
+
+
+XXI
+
+  With all her joyful female band,
+  Had Lady Margaret sought the strand.                           440
+  Loose on the breeze their tresses flew,
+  And high their snowy arms they threw,
+  As echoing back with shrill acclaim,
+  And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name;
+  While, prompt to please, with mother's art,                    445
+  The darling passion of his heart,
+  The Dame called Ellen to the strand,
+  To greet her kinsman ere he land:
+  "Come, loiterer, come! a Douglas thou,
+  And shun to wreathe a victor's brow?"                          450
+  Reluctantly and slow, the maid
+  The unwelcome summoning obeyed,
+  And, when a distant bugle rung,
+  In the mid-path aside she sprung:
+  "List Allan-bane! From mainland cast                           455
+  I hear my father's signal blast.
+  Be ours," she cried, "the skiff to guide,
+  And waft him from the mountain side."
+  Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright,
+  She darted to her shallop light,                               460
+  And, eagerly while Roderick scanned,
+  For her dear form, his mother's band,
+  The islet far behind her lay,
+  And she had landed in the bay.
+
+
+XXII
+
+  Some feelings are to mortals given,                            465
+  With less of earth in them than heaven:
+  And if there be a human tear
+  From passion's dross refined and clear,
+  A tear so limpid and so meek,
+  It would not stain an angel's cheek,                           470
+  'Tis that which pious fathers shed
+  Upon a duteous daughter's head!
+  And as the Douglas to his breast
+  His darling Ellen closely pressed,
+  Such holy drops her tresses steeped,                           475
+  Though 'twas an hero's eye that weeped.
+  Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue
+  Her filial welcomes crowded hung,
+  Marked she, that fear, affection's proof,
+  Still held a graceful youth aloof;                             480
+  No! not till Douglas named his name,
+  Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  Allan, with wistful look the while,
+  Marked Roderick landing on the isle;
+  His master piteously he eyed.                                  485
+  Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride,
+  Then dashed, with hasty hand, away
+  From his dimmed eye the gathering spray;
+  And Douglas, as his hand he laid
+  On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said,                            490
+  "Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy
+  In my poor follower's glistening eye?
+  I'll tell thee: he recalls the day,
+  When in my praise he led the lay
+  O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud,                        495
+  While many a minstrel answered loud,
+  When Percy's Norman pennon, won
+  In bloody field, before me shone,
+  And twice ten knights, the least a name
+  As mighty as yon Chief may claim,                              500
+  Gracing my pomp, behind me came.
+  Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud
+  Was I of all that marshaled crowd,
+  Though the waned crescent owned my might,
+  And in my train trooped lord and knight,                       505
+  Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays,
+  And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise,
+  As when this old man's silent tear,
+  And this poor maid's affection dear,
+  A welcome give more kind and true,                             510
+  Than aught my better fortunes knew.
+  Forgive, my friend, a father's boast,
+  Oh! it out-beggars all I lost!"
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  Delightful praise!--like summer rose,
+  That brighter in the dew-drop glows,                           515
+  The bashful maiden's cheek appeared,
+  For Douglas spoke and Malcolm heard.
+  The flush of shame-faced joy to hide,
+  The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide;
+  The loved caresses of the maid                                 520
+  The dogs with crouch and whimper paid;
+  And, at her whistle, on her hand
+  The falcon took his favorite stand,
+  Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye,
+  Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly.                           525
+  And, trust, while in such guise she stood,
+  Like fabled Goddess of the wood,
+  That if a father's partial thought
+  O'erweighed her worth, and beauty aught,
+  Well might the lover's judgment fail                           530
+  To balance with a juster scale;
+  For with each secret glance he stole,
+  The fond enthusiast sent his soul.
+
+
+XXV
+
+  Of stature tall, and slender frame,
+  But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme.                           535
+  The belted plaid and tartan hose
+  Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose;
+  His flaxen hair, of sunny hue,
+  Curled closely round his bonnet blue.
+  Trained to the chase, his eagle eye                            540
+  The ptarmigan in snow could spy;
+  Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath,
+  He knew, through Lennox and Menteith;
+  Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe,
+  When Malcolm bent his sounding bow,                            545
+  And scarce that doe, though winged with fear,
+  Outstripped in speed the mountaineer;
+  Right up Ben-Lomond could he press,
+  And not a sob his toil confess.
+  His form accorded with a mind                                  550
+  Lively and ardent, frank and kind;
+  A blither heart, till Ellen came,
+  Did never love nor sorrow tame;
+  It danced as lightsome in his breast,
+  As played the feather on his crest.                            555
+  Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth,
+  His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth,
+  And bards, who saw his features bold,
+  When kindled by the tales of old,
+  Said, were that youth to manhood grown,                        560
+  Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown
+  Be foremost voiced by mountain fame,
+  But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme.
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  Now back they wend their watery way,
+  And, "O my sire!" did Ellen say,                               565
+  "Why urge thy chase so far astray?
+  And why so late returned? And why"--
+  The rest was in her speaking eye.
+  "My child, the chase I follow far,
+  'Tis mimicry of noble war;                                     570
+  And with that gallant pastime reft
+  Were all of Douglas I have left.
+  I met young Malcolm as I strayed
+  Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade,
+  Nor strayed I safe; for all around,                            575
+  Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground.
+  This youth, though still a royal ward,
+  Risked life and land to be my guard,
+  And through the passes of the wood
+  Guided my steps, not unpursued;                                580
+  And Roderick shall his welcome make,
+  Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake.
+  Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen,
+  Nor peril aught for me again."
+
+
+XXVII
+
+  Sir Roderick, who to meet them came,                           585
+  Reddened at sight of Malcolm Graeme,
+  Yet, not in action, word, or eye,
+  Failed aught in hospitality.
+  In talk and sport they whiled away
+  The morning of that summer day;                                590
+  But at high noon a courier light
+  Held secret parley with the knight,
+  Whose moody aspect soon declared,
+  That evil were the news he heard.
+  Deep thought seemed toiling in his head;                       595
+  Yet was the evening banquet made,
+  Ere he assembled round the flame,
+  His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme,
+  And Ellen too; then cast around
+  His eyes, then fixed them on the ground,                       600
+  As studying phrase that might avail
+  Best to convey unpleasant tale.
+  Long with his dagger's hilt he played,
+  Then raised his haughty brow, and said:
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+  "Short be my speech--nor time affords,                         605
+  Nor my plain temper, glozing words.
+  Kinsman and father--if such name
+  Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim;
+  Mine honored mother--Ellen--why,
+  My cousin, turn away thine eye?--                              610
+  And Graeme, in whom I hope to know
+  Full soon a noble friend or foe,
+  When age shall give thee thy command,
+  And leading in thy native land--
+  List all--The King's vindictive pride                          615
+  Boasts to have tamed the Border-side,
+  Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came
+  To share their monarch's silvan game,
+  Themselves in bloody toils were snared;
+  And when the banquet they prepared,                            620
+  And wide their loyal portals flung,
+  O'er their own gateway struggling hung.
+  Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead,
+  From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed,
+  Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide,                       625
+  And from the silver Teviot's side;
+  The dales, where martial clans did ride,
+  Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide.
+  This tyrant of the Scottish throne,
+  So faithless, and so ruthless known,                           630
+  Now hither comes; his end the same,
+  The same pretext of silvan game.
+  What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye
+  By fate of Border chivalry.
+  Yet more; amid Glenfinlas' green,                              635
+  Douglas, thy stately form was seen.
+  This by espial sure I know:
+  Your counsel in the strait I show."
+
+
+XXIX
+
+  Ellen and Margaret fearfully
+  Sought comfort in each other's eye,                            640
+  Then turned their ghastly look, each one,
+  This to her sire, that to her son.
+  The hasty color went and came
+  In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme;
+  But from his glance it well appeared,                          645
+  'Twas but for Ellen that he feared;
+  While, sorrowful, but undismayed,
+  The Douglas thus his counsel said:
+  "Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar,
+  It may but thunder and pass o'er;                              650
+  Nor will I here remain an hour,
+  To draw the lightning on thy bower;
+  For well thou know'st, at this gray head
+  The royal bolt were fiercest sped.
+  For thee, who, at thy King's command,                          655
+  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,                                  660
+  The refuge of some forest cell,
+  There, like the hunted quarry, dwell,
+  Till on the mountain and the moor,
+  The stern pursuit be passed and o'er."
+
+
+XXX
+
+  "No, by mine honor," Roderick said,                            665
+  "So help me Heaven, and my good blade!
+  No, never! Blasted be yon Pine,
+  My fathers' ancient crest and mine,
+  If from its shade in danger part
+  The lineage of the Bleeding Heart!                             670
+  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                       675
+  Will bind to us each Western Chief.
+  When the loud pipes my bridal tell,
+  The Links of Forth shall hear the knell,
+  The guards shall start in Stirling's porch;
+  And, when I light the nuptial torch,                           680
+  A thousand villages in flames
+  Shall scare the slumbers of King James!
+  --Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away,
+  And, mother, cease these signs, I pray;
+  I meant not all my heat might say.                             685
+  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 foiled king, from pathless glen,                      690
+  Shall bootless turn him home again."
+
+
+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,                               695
+  Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream,
+  Till wakened by the morning beam;
+  When, dazzled by the eastern glow,
+  Such startler cast his glance below,
+  And saw unmeasured depth around,                               700
+  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,                             705
+  Headlong to plunge himself below,
+  And meet the worst his fears foreshow?
+  Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound,
+  As sudden ruin yawned around,
+  By crossing terrors wildly tossed,                             710
+  Still for the Douglas fearing most,
+  Could scarce the desperate thought withstand,
+  To buy his safety with her hand.
+
+
+XXXII
+
+  Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy
+  In Ellen's quivering lip and eye,                              715
+  And eager rose to speak--but ere
+  His tongue could hurry forth his fear,
+  Had Douglas marked the hectic strife,
+  Where death seemed combating with life;
+  For to her cheek, in feverish flood,                           720
+  One instant rushed 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;                              725
+  Not that the blush to wooer dear,
+  Nor paleness that of maiden fear.
+  It may not be--forgive her, Chief,
+  Nor hazard aught for our relief.
+  Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er                           730
+  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;                               735
+  I love him still, despite my wrongs,
+  By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues.
+  O seek the grace you well may find,
+  Without a cause to mine combined."
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+  Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode;                   740
+  The waving of his tartans broad,
+  And darkened brow, where wounded pride
+  With ire and disappointment vied,
+  Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light,
+  Like the ill Demon of the night,                               745
+  Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway
+  Upon the knighted pilgrim's way.
+  But, unrequited Love! thy dart
+  Plunged deepest its envenomed smart,
+  And Roderick, with thine anguish stung,                        750
+  At length the hand of Douglas wrung,
+  While eyes, that mocked at tears before,
+  With bitter drops were running o'er.
+  The death-pangs of long-cherished hope
+  Scarce in that ample breast had scope,                         755
+  But, struggling with his spirit proud,
+  Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud,
+  While every sob--so mute were all--
+  Was heard distinctly through the hall.
+  The son's despair, the mother's look,                          760
+  Ill might the gentle Ellen brook;
+  She rose, and to her side there came,
+  To aid her parting steps, the Graeme.
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+  Then Roderick from the Douglas broke--
+  As flashes flame through sable smoke,                          765
+  Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low,
+  To one broad blaze of ruddy glow,
+  So the deep anguish of despair
+  Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air.
+  With stalwart grasp his hand he laid                           770
+  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,                         775
+  Thank thou for punishment delayed."
+  Eager as a greyhound on his game
+  Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme.
+  "Perish my name, if aught afford
+  Its Chieftain's safety save his sword!"                        780
+  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!                       785
+  I hold the first who strikes, my foe.
+  Madmen, forbear your frantic jar!
+  What! is the Douglas fallen so far,
+  His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil
+  Of such dishonorable broil!"                                   790
+  Sullen and slowly they unclasp,
+  As struck with shame, their desperate grasp,
+  And each upon his rival glared,
+  With foot advanced, and blade half bared.
+
+
+XXXV
+
+  Ere yet the brands aloft were flung                            795
+  Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung,
+  And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream,
+  As faltered through terrific dream.
+  Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword
+  And veiled his wrath in scornful word:                         800
+  "Rest safe till morning; pity 'twere
+  Such cheek should feel the midnight air!
+  Then mayest thou to James Stuart tell,
+  Roderick will keep the lake and fell,
+  Nor lackey, with his freeborn clan,                            805
+  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."                         810
+  Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold,
+  "Fear nothing for thy favorite hold;
+  The spot, an angel deigned to grace,
+  Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place.
+  Thy churlish courtesy for those                                815
+  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.--                           820
+  Brave Douglas--lovely Ellen--nay,
+  Nought here of parting will I say.
+  Earth does not hold a lonesome glen
+  So secret but we meet again.--
+  Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,"                         825
+  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                          830
+  The Fiery Cross should circle o'er
+  Dale, glen, and valley, down, and moor.
+  Much were the peril to the Graeme
+  From those who to the signal came;
+  Far up the lake 'twere safest land,                            835
+  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 rolled,
+  His ample plaid in tightened fold,                             840
+  And stripped 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 pressed--                        845
+  "Oh, could I point a place of rest!
+  My sovereign holds in ward my land,
+  My uncle leads my vassal band;
+  To tame his foes, his friends to aid,
+  Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade.                          850
+  Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme,
+  Who loves the chieftain of his name,
+  Not long shall honored Douglas dwell
+  Like hunted stag in mountain cell;
+  Nor, ere yon pride-swoll'n robber dare,                        855
+  I might not give the rest to air!
+  Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him nought,
+  Not the poor service of a boat,
+  To waft me to yon mountain-side."
+  Then plunged he in the flashing tide.                          860
+  Bold o'er the flood his head he bore,
+  And stoutly steered him from the shore;
+  And Allan strained his anxious eye,
+  Far mid the lake his form to spy,
+  Darkening across each puny wave,                               865
+  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.                              870
+  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 marveling boyhood legends store
+    Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea,
+  How are they blotted from the things that be!                    5
+    How few, all weak and withered 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,                     10
+    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,                  15
+  What time aloft their kindred banner flew,
+    While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound,
+  And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round.
+
+
+II
+
+  The summer dawn's reflected hue
+  To purple changed Loch Katrine blue;                            20
+  Mildly and soft the western breeze
+  Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees,
+  And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,
+  Trembled but dimpled not for joy;
+  The mountain-shadows on her breast                              25
+  Were neither broken nor at rest;
+  In bright uncertainty they lie,
+  Like future joys to Fancy's eye.
+  The water-lily to the light
+  Her chalice reared of silver bright;                            30
+  The doe awoke, and to the lawn,
+  Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn;
+  The gray mist left the mountain side,
+  The torrent showed its glistening pride;
+  Invisible in flecked sky,                                       35
+  The lark sent down her revelry;
+  The blackbird and the speckled thrush,
+  Good-morrow gave from brake and bush;
+  In answer cooed the cushat dove
+  Her notes of peace, and rest, and love.                         40
+
+
+III
+
+  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,
+  And eyed the rising sun, and laid                               45
+  His hand on his impatient blade.
+  Beneath a rock, his vassals' care
+  Was prompt the ritual to prepare,
+  With deep and deathful meaning fraught;
+  For such Antiquity had taught                                   50
+  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,                           55
+  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.                             60
+
+
+IV
+
+  A heap of withered 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,                                 65
+  Barefooted, in his frock and hood.
+  His grizzled beard and matted hair
+  Obscured a visage of despair;
+  His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er,
+  The scars of frantic penance bore.                              70
+  That monk, of savage form and face,
+  The impending danger of his race
+  Had drawn from deepest solitude,
+  Far in Benharrow's bosom rude.
+  Not his the mien of Christian priest,                           75
+  But Druid's, from the grave released,
+  Whose hardened heart and eye might brook
+  On human sacrifice to look;
+  And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore
+  Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er.                           80
+  The hallowed creed gave only worse
+  And deadlier emphasis of curse;
+  No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer,
+  His cave the pilgrim shunned with care,
+  The eager huntsman knew his bound,                              85
+  And in mid chase called off his hound;
+  Or if, in lonely glen or strath,
+  The desert-dweller met his path,
+  He prayed, and signed the cross between,
+  While terror took devotion's mien.                              90
+
+
+V
+
+  Of Brian's birth strange tales were told.
+  His mother watched a midnight fold,
+  Built deep within a dreary glen,
+  Where scattered lay the bones of men
+  In some forgotten battle slain,                                 95
+  And bleached by drifting wind and rain.
+  It might have tamed a warrior's heart,
+  To view such mockery of his art!
+  The knot-grass fettered there the hand
+  Which once could burst an iron band;                           100
+  Beneath the broad and ample bone,
+  That bucklered heart to fear unknown,
+  A feeble and a timorous guest,
+  The fieldfare framed her lowly nest;
+  There the slow blindworm left his slime                        105
+  On the fleet limbs that mocked at time;
+  And there, too, lay the leader's skull,
+  Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full,
+  For heath-bell with her purple bloom
+  Supplied the bonnet and the plume.                             110
+  All night, in this sad glen, the maid
+  Sat, 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                              115
+  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,                                120
+  But locked her secret in her breast,
+  And died in travail, unconfessed.
+
+
+VI
+
+  Alone, among his young compeers,
+  Was Brian from his infant years;
+  A moody and heartbroken boy,                                   125
+  Estranged from sympathy and joy,
+  Bearing each taunt with careless tongue
+  On his mysterious lineage flung.
+  Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale,
+  To wood and stream his hap to wail,                            130
+  Till, frantic, he as truth received
+  What of his birth the crowd believed,
+  And sought, in mist and meteor fire,
+  To meet and know his Phantom Sire!
+  In vain, to soothe his wayward fate,                           135
+  The cloister oped her pitying gate;
+  In vain, the learning of the age
+  Unclasped the sable-lettered page;
+  Even in its treasures he could find
+  Food for the fever of his mind.                                140
+  Eager he read whatever tells
+  Of magic, cabala, and spells,
+  And every dark pursuit allied
+  To curious and presumptuous pride;
+  Till with fired brain and nerves o'erstrung,                   145
+  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 specter's child.                        150
+  Where with black cliffs the torrents toil,
+  He watched the wheeling eddies boil,
+  Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes
+  Beheld the River Demon rise;
+  The mountain mist took form and limb,                          155
+  Of noontide hag, or goblin grim;
+  The midnight wind came wild and dread,
+  Swelled with the voices of the dead;
+  Far on the future battle-heath
+  His eyes beheld the ranks of death.                            160
+  Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled,
+  Shaped forth a disembodied world.
+  One lingering sympathy of mind
+  Still bound him to the mortal kind;
+  The only parent he could claim                                 165
+  Of ancient Alpine 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                             170
+  Along Benharrow's shingly side,
+  Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride;
+  The thunderbolt had split the pine--
+  All augured ill to Alpine's line.
+  He girt his loins, and came to show                            175
+  The signals of impending woe,
+  And now stood prompt 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,                            180
+  Before the kindling pile was laid,
+  And pierced by Roderick's ready blade.
+  Patient the sickening victim eyed
+  The life-blood ebb in crimson tide,
+  Down his clogged beard and shaggy limb,                        185
+  Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim.
+  The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer,
+  A slender crosslet formed with care,
+  A cubit's length in measure due;
+  The shaft and limbs were rods of yew,                          190
+  Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave
+  Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave,
+  And, answering Lomond's breezes deep,
+  Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep.
+  The Cross, thus formed, he held on high,                       195
+  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,                                 200
+  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,                         205
+  But, from his sires and kindred thrust,
+  Each clansman's execration just
+            Shall doom him wrath and woe."
+  He paused--the word the vassals took,
+  With forward step and fiery look,                              210
+  On high their naked brands they shook,
+  Their clattering targets wildly strook;
+            And first in murmur low,
+  Then, like the billow in his course,
+  That far to seaward finds his source,                          215
+  And flings to shore his mustered force,
+  Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse,
+            "Woe to the traitor, woe!"
+  Ben-an's grey scalp the accents knew,
+  The joyous wolf from cover drew,                               220
+  The exulting eagle screamed afar--
+  They knew the voice of Alpine's war.
+
+
+X
+
+  The shout was hushed on lake and fell,
+  The Monk resumed his muttered spell;
+  Dismal and low its accents came,                               225
+  The while he scathed the Cross with flame:
+  And the few words that reached the air,
+  Although the holiest name was there,
+  Had more of blasphemy than prayer.
+  But when he shook above the crowd                              230
+  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,                              235
+          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,                        240
+          And infamy and woe."
+  Then rose the cry of females, shrill
+  As goshawk's whistle on the hill,
+  Denouncing misery and ill,
+  Mingled with childhood's babbling trill                        245
+          Of curses stammered slow;
+  Answering, with imprecation dread,
+  "Sunk be his home in embers red!
+  And cursed be the meanest shed
+  That e'er shall hide the houseless head                        250
+          We doom to want and woe!"
+  A sharp and shrieking echo gave,
+  Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave!
+  And the gray pass where birches wave,
+          On Beala-nam-bo.                                       255
+
+
+XI
+
+  Then deeper paused the priest anew,
+  And hard his laboring breath he drew,
+  While, with set teeth and clenched hand,
+  And eyes that glowed like fiery brand,
+  He meditated curse more dread,                                 260
+  And deadlier, on the clansman's head,
+  Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid,
+  The signal saw and disobeyed.
+  The crosslet's points of sparkling wood
+  He quenched among the bubbling blood,                          265
+  And, as again the sign he reared,
+  Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard:
+  "When flits this Cross from man to man,
+  Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan,
+  Burst be the ear that fails to heed!                           270
+  Palsied the foot that shuns to speed!
+  May ravens tear the careless eyes,
+  Wolves make the coward heart their prize!
+  As sinks that blood-stream in the earth,
+  So may his heart's blood drench his hearth!                    275
+  As dies in hissing gore the spark,
+  Quench thou his light, Destruction dark!
+  And be the grace to him denied,
+  Bought by this sign to all beside!"
+  He ceased; no echo gave again                                  280
+  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.                            285
+  "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,                           290
+  So rapidly the barge-men row,
+  The bubbles, where they launched the boat,
+  Were all unbroken and afloat,
+  Dancing in foam and ripple still,
+  When it had neared the mainland hill;                          295
+  And from the silver beach's side
+  Still was the prow three fathom wide,
+  When lightly bounded to the land
+  The messenger of blood and brand.
+
+
+XIII
+
+  Speed, Malise, speed! the dun deer's hide                      300
+  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;                        305
+  With short and springing footstep pass
+  The trembling bog and false morass;
+  Across the brook like roebuck bound,
+  And thread the brake like questing hound;
+  The crag is high, the scar is deep,                            310
+  Yet shrink not from the desperate leap:
+  Parched are thy burning lips and brow.
+  Yet by the fountain pause not now;
+  Herald of battle, fate, and fear,
+  Stretch onward in thy fleet career!                            315
+  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,                           320
+  Are in thy course--speed, Malise, speed!
+
+
+XIV
+
+  Fast as the fatal symbol flies,
+  In arms the huts and hamlets rise;
+  From winding glen, from upland brown,
+  They poured each hardy tenant down.                            325
+  Nor slacked the messenger his pace;
+  He showed the sign, he named the place,
+  And, pressing forward like the wind,
+  Left clamor and surprise behind.
+  The fisherman forsook the strand,                              330
+  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 strayed,
+  The plow was in mid-furrow stayed,                             335
+  The falc'ner tossed his hawk away,
+  The hunter left the stag at bay;
+  Prompt at the signal of alarms,
+  Each son of Alpine rushed to arms;
+  So swept the tumult and affray                                 340
+  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,                                   345
+  The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud
+  Seems for the scene too gaily loud.
+
+
+XV
+
+  Speed, Malise, speed! the lake is past,
+  Duncraggan's huts appear at last,
+  And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen,                    350
+  Half hidden in the copse so green;
+  There mayst thou rest, thy labor done,
+  Their Lord shall speed the signal on.
+  As stoops the hawk upon his prey,
+  The henchman shot him down the way.                            355
+  --What woeful 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,                               360
+  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.                         365
+  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,                                    370
+    He is lost to the forest,
+  Like a summer-dried fountain,
+    When our need was the sorest.
+  The font, reappearing,
+    From the raindrops shall borrow,                             375
+  But to us comes no cheering,
+    To Duncan no morrow!
+
+  The hand of the reaper
+    Takes the ears that are hoary,
+  But the voice of the weeper                                    380
+    Wails manhood in glory.
+  The autumn winds rushing
+    Waft the leaves that are searest,
+  But our flower was in flushing,
+    When blighting was nearest.                                  385
+
+  Fleet foot on the correi,
+    Sage counsel in cumber,
+  Red hand in the foray,
+    How sound is thy slumber!
+  Like dew on the mountain,                                      390
+    Like the foam on the river,
+  Like the bubble on the fountain
+    Thou art gone, and forever!
+
+
+XVII
+
+  See Stumah, who, the bier beside,
+  His master's corpse with wonder eyed--                         395
+  Poor Stumah! whom his least halloo
+  Could send like lightning o'er the dew,
+  Bristles his crest, and points his ears,
+  As if some stranger step he hears.
+  'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread,                            400
+  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;                             405
+  Before the dead man's bier he stood;
+  Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood:
+  "The muster-place is Lanrick mead;
+  Speed forth the signal! clansmen, speed!"
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  Angus, the heir of Duncan's line,                              410
+  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,                                 415
+  Back to her opened arms he flew,
+  Pressed on her lips a fond adieu--
+  "Alas!" she sobbed--"and yet be gone,
+  And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son!"
+  One look he cast upon the bier,                                420
+  Dashed from his eye the gathering tear,
+  Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast,
+  And tossed aloft his bonnet crest,
+  Then, like the high-bred colt, when, freed,
+  First he essays his fire and speed,                            425
+  He vanished, 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 marked the henchman's eye                         430
+  Wet with unwonted sympathy,
+  "Kinsman," she said, "his race is run,
+  That should have sped thine errand on;
+  The oak has fallen--the sapling bough
+  Is all Duncraggan's shelter now.                               435
+  Yet trust I well, his duty done,
+  The orphan's God will guard my son.
+  And you, in many a danger true,
+  At Duncan's hest your blades that drew,
+  To arms, and guard that orphan's head!                         440
+  Let babes and women wail the dead."
+  Then weapon-clang and martial call
+  Resounded through the funeral hall,
+  While from the walls the attendant band
+  Snatched sword and targe, with hurried hand;                   445
+  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 borrowed force;                            450
+  Grief claimed 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;                           455
+  The tear that gathered 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,                       460
+  The chapel of St. Bride was seen.
+  Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge,
+  But Angus paused not on the edge;
+  Though the dark waves danced dizzily,
+  Though reeled his sympathetic eye,                             465
+  He dashed amid the torrent's roar.
+  His right hand high the crosslet bore,
+  His left the pole-ax grasped, to guide
+  And stay his footing in the tide.
+  He stumbled twice--the foam splashed high;                     470
+  With hoarser swell the stream raced by;
+  And had he fallen--forever there,
+  Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir!
+  But still, as if in parting life,
+  Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife,                         475
+  Until the opposing bank he gained,
+  And up the chapel pathway strained.
+
+
+XX
+
+  A blithesome rout, that morning tide,
+  Had sought the chapel of St. Bride.
+  Her troth Tombea's Mary gave                                   480
+  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;                              485
+  And plaided youth, with jest and jeer,
+  Which snooden maiden would not hear:
+  And children, that, unwitting why,
+  Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry;
+  And minstrels, that in measures vied                           490
+  Before the young and bonny bride,
+  Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose
+  The tear and blush of morning rose.
+  With virgin step, and bashful hand,
+  She held the kerchief's snowy band;                            495
+  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?                         500
+  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-soiled he stood,                            505
+  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,                           510
+  Just linked 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                                515
+  The bridegroom from the plighted bride?
+  O fatal doom!--it must! it must!
+  Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust,
+  Her summons dread, brook no delay;
+  Stretch to the race--away! away!                               520
+
+
+XXII
+
+  Yet slow he laid his plaid aside,
+  And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride,
+  Until he saw the starting tear
+  Speak woe he might not stop to cheer;
+  Then, trusting not a second look,                              525
+  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 stirred?
+  The sickening pang of hope deferred,                           530
+  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,                                535
+  Ere yet they rush upon the spears;
+  And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning,
+  And hope, from well-fought field returning,
+  With war's red honors on his crest,
+  To clasp his Mary to his breast.                               540
+  Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae,
+  Like fire from flint he glanced away,
+  While high resolve, and feeling strong,
+  Burst into voluntary song.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+SONG
+
+  The heath this night must be my bed,                           545
+  The bracken curtain for my head,
+  My lullaby the warder's tread,
+        Far, far, from love and thee, Mary;
+  To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,
+  My couch may be my bloody plaid,                               550
+  My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid!
+        It will not waken me, Mary!
+  I may not, dare not, fancy now
+  The grief that clouds thy lovely brow,
+  I dare not think upon thy vow,                                 555
+        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.                          560
+
+  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 returned from conquered foes,                           565
+  How blithely will the evening close,
+  How sweet the linnet sing repose,
+        To my young bride and me, Mary!
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  Not faster o'er thy heathery braes,
+  Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze,                         570
+  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,                              575
+  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
+  Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course;                           580
+  Thence southward turned its rapid road
+  Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad,
+  Till rose in arms each man might claim
+  A portion in Clan-Alpine's name,
+  From the gray sire, whose trembling hand                       585
+  Could hardly buckle on his brand,
+  To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow
+  Were yet scarce terror to the crow.
+  Each valley, each sequestered glen,
+  Mustered its little horde of men,                              590
+  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                              595
+  By hundreds prompt for blows and blood,
+  Each trained 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.                            600
+
+
+XXV
+
+  That summer morn had Roderick Dhu
+  Surveyed the skirts of Benvenue,
+  And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath,
+  To view the frontiers of Menteith.
+  All backward came with news of truce;                          605
+  Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce;
+  In Rednoch courts no horsemen wait,
+  No banner waved on Cardross gate,
+  On Duchray's towers no beacon shone,
+  Nor scared the herons from Loch Con;                           610
+  All seemed at peace. Now wot ye why
+  The Chieftain, with such anxious eye,
+  Ere to the muster he repair,
+  This western frontier scanned with care?
+  In Benvenue's most darksome cleft,                             615
+  A fair, though cruel, pledge was left;
+  For Douglas, to his promise true,
+  That morning from the isle withdrew,
+  And in a deep sequestered dell
+  Had sought a low and lonely cell.                              620
+  By many a bard, in Celtic tongue,
+  Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung;
+  A softer name the Saxons gave,
+  And called the grot the Goblin-cave.
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  It was a wild and strange retreat,                             625
+  As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet.
+  The dell, upon the mountain's crest,
+  Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast;
+  Its trench had stayed full many a rock,
+  Hurled by primeval earthquake shock                            630
+  From Benvenue's gray summit wild,
+  And here, in random ruin piled,
+  They frowned incumbent o'er the spot,
+  And formed the rugged silvan grot.
+  The oak and birch, with mingled shade,                         635
+  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.                                  640
+  No murmur waked the solemn still,
+  Save tinkling of a fountain rill;
+  But when the wind chafed with the lake,
+  A sullen sound would upward break,
+  With dashing hollow voice, that spoke                          645
+  The incessant war of wave and rock.
+  Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway,
+  Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray.
+  From such a den the wolf had sprung,
+  In such the wild-cat leaves her young;                         650
+  Yet Douglas and his daughter fair
+  Sought for a space their safety there.
+  Gray Superstition's whisper dread
+  Debarred the spot to vulgar tread;
+  For there, she said, did fays resort,                          655
+  And satyrs hold their silvan court,
+  By moonlight tread their mystic maze,
+  And blast the rash beholder's gaze.
+
+
+XXVII
+
+  Now eve, with western shadows long,
+  Floated on Katrine bright and strong,                          660
+  When Roderick, with a chosen few,
+  Repassed the heights of Benvenue.
+  Above the Goblin-cave they go,
+  Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo:
+  The prompt retainers speed before,                             665
+  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 musing mind,                             670
+  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 by the lake.                                675
+  It was a fair and gallant sight,
+  To view them from the neighboring height,
+  By the low-leveled sunbeam's light!
+  For strength and stature, from the clan
+  Each warrior was a chosen man,                                 680
+  As even afar might well be seen,
+  By their proud step and martial mien.
+  Their feathers dance, their tartans float,
+  Their targets gleam, as by the boat
+  A wild and warlike group they stand,                           685
+  That well became such mountain-strand.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+  Their Chief, with step reluctant, still
+  Was lingering on the craggy hill,
+  Hard by where turned apart the road
+  To Douglas's obscure abode.                                    690
+  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,                           695
+  And fetters flame with flaxen band,
+  Has yet a harder task to prove--
+  By firm resolve to conquer love!
+  Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost,
+  Still hovering near his treasure lost;                         700
+  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                               705
+  That waked to sound the rustling trees.
+  But hark! what mingles in the strain?
+  It is the harp of Allan-bane,
+  That wakes its measures slow and high,
+  Attuned to sacred minstrelsy.                                  710
+  What melting voice attends the strings?
+  'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings.
+
+
+XXIX
+
+HYMN TO THE VIRGIN
+
+  _Ave Maria!_ maiden mild!
+    Listen to a maiden's prayer!
+  Thou canst hear though from the wild,                          715
+    Thou canst save amid despair.
+  Safe may we sleep beneath thy care,
+    Though banished, outcast, and reviled--
+  Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer;
+    Mother, hear a suppliant child!                              720
+                                    _Ave Maria!_
+  _Ave Maria!_ undefiled!
+    The flinty couch we now must share
+  Shall seem with down of eider piled,
+    If thy protection hover there.                               725
+  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!_                 730
+  _Ave Maria!_ stainless styled!
+    Foul demons of the earth and air,
+  From this their wonted haunt exiled,
+    Shall flee before thy presence fair.
+  We bow us to our lot of care,                                  735
+    Beneath thy guidance reconciled;
+  Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer,
+    And for a father hear a child!
+                                    _Ave Maria!_
+
+
+XXX
+
+  Died on the harp the closing hymn--                            740
+  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.                            745
+  Then while his plaid he round him cast,
+  "It is the last time--'tis the last,"
+  He muttered thrice, "the last time e'er
+  That angel voice shall Roderick hear!"
+  It was a goading thought--his stride                           750
+  Hied hastier down the mountain side;
+  Sullen he flung him in the boat,
+  And instant 'cross the lake it shot.
+  They landed in that silvery bay,
+  And eastward held their hasty way,                             755
+  Till, with the latest beams of light,
+  The band arrived on Lanrick height,
+  Where mustered, in the vale below,
+  Clan-Alpine's men in martial show.
+
+
+XXXI
+
+  A various scene the clansmen made,                             760
+  Some sat, some stood, some slowly strayed;
+  But most with mantles folded round,
+  Were couched to rest upon the ground,
+  Scarce to be known by curious eye,
+  From the deep heather where they lie,                          765
+  So well was matched the tartan screen
+  With heath-bell dark and brackens green,
+  Unless where, here and there, a blade,
+  Or lance's point, a glimmer made,
+  Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade.                    770
+  But when, advancing through the gloom,
+  They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume,
+  Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide,
+  Shook the steep mountain's steady side.
+  Thrice it arose, and lake and fell                             775
+  Three times returned the martial yell;
+  It died upon Bochastle's plain,
+  And Silence claimed her evening reign.
+
+
+
+
+CANTO FOURTH
+
+THE PROPHECY
+
+
+I
+
+  "The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,
+    And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
+  The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew,
+    And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.
+    O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears,                       5
+  I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave,
+    Emblem of hope and love through future years!"
+  Thus spake young Norman, heir of Armandave,
+  What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave.
+
+
+II
+
+  Such fond conceit, half said, half sung,                        10
+  Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue.
+  All while he stripped the wild-rose spray,
+  His ax and bow beside him lay,
+  For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood,
+  A wakeful sentinel he stood.                                    15
+  Hark! on the rock a footstep rung,
+  And instant to his arms he sprung.
+  "Stand, or thou diest!--What, Malise?--soon
+  Art thou returned from Braes of Doune.
+  By thy keen step and glance I know,                             20
+  Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe."
+  For while the Fiery Cross hied on,
+  On distant scout had Malise gone.--
+  "Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchman said.
+  "Apart, in yonder misty glade;                                  25
+  To his lone couch I'll be your guide."
+  Then called a slumberer by his side,
+  And stirred him with his slackened bow--
+  "Up, up, Glantarkin! rouse thee, ho!
+  We seek the Chieftain; on the track,                            30
+  Keep eagle watch till I come back."
+
+
+III
+
+  Together up the pass they sped:
+  "What of the foeman?" Norman said.
+  "Varying reports from near and far;
+  This certain--that a band of war                                35
+  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                         40
+  Speak on our glens in thunder loud.
+  Inured to bide such bitter bout,
+  The warrior's plaid may bear it out;
+  But, Norman, how wilt thou provide
+  A shelter for thy bonny bride?"                                 45
+  "What! know ye not that Roderick's care
+  To the lone isle hath caused repair
+  Each maid and matron of the clan,
+  And every child and aged man
+  Unfit for arms; and given his charge,                           50
+  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                        55
+  Bespeaks the father of his clan.
+  But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu
+  Apart from all his followers true?"
+  "It is, because last evening-tide
+  Brian an augury hath tried,                                     60
+  Of that dread kind which must not be
+  Unless in dread extremity,
+  The Taghairm called; by which, afar,
+  Our sires foresaw the events of war.
+  Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew."                        65
+
+
+MALISE
+
+  "Ah! Well the gallant brute I knew,
+  The choicest of the prey we had,
+  When swept our merrymen Gallangad.
+  His hide was snow, his horns were dark,
+  His red eye glowed like fiery spark;                            70
+  So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet,
+  Sore did he cumber our retreat,
+  And kept our stoutest kerns in awe,
+  Even at the pass of Beal 'maha.
+  But steep and flinty was the road,                              75
+  And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad,
+  And when we came to Dennan's Row,
+  A child might scatheless stroke his brow."
+
+
+V
+
+NORMAN
+
+  "That bull was slain; his reeking hide
+  They stretched the cataract beside,                             80
+  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.
+  Couched on a shelf beneath its brink,                           85
+  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.                               90
+  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,                             95
+  That hovers o'er a slaughtered host?
+  Or raven on the blasted oak,
+  That, watching while the deer is broke,
+  His morsel claims with sullen croak?"
+
+
+MALISE
+
+  "Peace! peace! to other than to me                             100
+  Thy words were evil augury;
+  But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade
+  Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid,
+  Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell,
+  Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell.                              105
+  The Chieftain joins him, see--and now,
+  Together they descend the brow."
+
+
+VI
+
+  And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord
+  The Hermit Monk held solemn word:
+  "Roderick! it is a fearful strife,                             110
+  For man endowed with mortal life,
+  Whose shroud of sentient clay can still
+  Feel feverish pang and fainting chill,
+  Whose eye can stare in stony trance,
+  Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance--                    115
+  'Tis hard for such to view, unfurled,
+  The curtain of the future world.
+  Yet, witness every quaking limb,
+  My sunken pulse, my eyeballs dim,
+  My soul with harrowing anguish torn--                          120
+  This for my Chieftain have I borne!
+  The shapes that sought my fearful couch,
+  A human tongue may ne'er avouch;
+  No mortal man--save he, who, bred
+  Between the living and the dead,                               125
+  Is gifted beyond nature's law--
+  Had e'er survived to say he saw.
+  At length the fatal answer came,
+  In characters of living flame!
+  Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll,                       130
+  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.                                135
+  Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood,
+  But first our broadswords tasted blood.
+  A surer victim still I know,
+  Self-offered to the auspicious blow:
+  A spy has sought my land this morn--                           140
+  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,                            145
+  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                        150
+  Two Barons proud their banners wave.
+  I saw the Moray's silver star,
+  And marked the sable pale of Mar."
+  "By Alpine's soul, high tidings those!
+  I love to hear of worthy foes.                                 155
+  When move they on?" "Tomorrow's noon
+  Will see them here for battle boune."
+  "Then shall it see a meeting stern!
+  But, for the place--say, couldst thou learn
+  Nought of the friendly clans of Earn?                          160
+  Strengthened by them, we well might bide
+  The battle on Benledi's side.
+  Thou couldst not! Well! Clan-Alpine's men
+  Shall man the Trossachs' shaggy glen;
+  Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight,                       165
+  All in our maids' and matrons' sight,
+  Each for his hearth and household fire,
+  Father for child, and son for sire--
+  Lover for maid beloved! But why--
+  Is it the breeze affects mine eye?                             170
+  Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear!
+  A messenger of doubt and fear?
+  No! sooner may the Saxon lance
+  Unfix Benledi from his stance,
+  Than doubt or terror can pierce through                        175
+  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 broadswords gleam, the banners dance,                      180
+  Obedient to the Chieftain's glance.
+  --I turn me from the martial roar,
+  And seek Coir-Uriskin once more.
+
+
+IX
+
+  Where is the Douglas?--he is gone;
+  And Ellen sits on the gray stone                               185
+  Fast by the cave, and makes her moan;
+  While vainly Allan's words of cheer
+  Are poured on her unheeding ear:
+  "He will return--dear lady trust!
+  With joy return--he will--he must.                             190
+  Well was it time to seek, afar,
+  Some refuge from impending war,
+  When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm
+  Are cowed by the approaching storm.
+  I saw their boats with many a light,                           195
+  Floating the live-long yesternight,
+  Shifting like flashes darted forth
+  By the red streamers of the north;
+  I marked at morn how close they ride,
+  Thick moored by the lone islet's side,                         200
+  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                              205
+  Some safe retreat for thee prepare?"
+
+
+X
+
+ELLEN
+
+  "No, Allan, no! Pretext so kind
+  My wakeful terrors could not blind.
+  When in such tender tone, yet grave,
+  Douglas a parting blessing gave,                               210
+  The tear that glistened in his eye
+  Drowned not his purpose fixed and high.
+  My soul, though feminine and weak,
+  Can image his; e'en as the lake,
+  Itself disturbed by slightest stroke,                          215
+  Reflects the invulnerable rock.
+  He hears the report of battle rife,
+  He deems himself the cause of strife.
+  I saw him redden, when the theme
+  Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream                             220
+  Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound,
+  Which I, thou saidst, about him wound.
+  Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught?
+  Oh, no! 'twas apprehensive thought
+  For the kind youth--for Roderick too--                         225
+  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!'                          230
+  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;                         235
+  He goes to do--what I had done,
+  Had Douglas' daughter been his son!"
+
+
+XI
+
+  "Nay, lovely Ellen!--dearest, nay!
+  If aught should his return delay,
+  He only named yon holy fane                                    240
+  As fitting place to meet again.
+  Be sure he's safe; and for the Graeme--
+  Heaven's blessing on his gallant name!
+  My visioned sight may yet prove true,
+  Nor bode of ill to him or you.                                 245
+  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;                                 250
+  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,                            255
+  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.                             260
+
+
+XII
+
+BALLAD--ALICE BRAND
+
+  Merry it is in the good greenwood,
+    When the mavis and merle are singing,
+  When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,
+    And the hunter's horn is ringing.
+
+  "O Alice Brand, my native land                                 265
+    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,                        270
+  That on the night of our luckless flight,
+    Thy brother bold I slew.
+
+  "Now must I teach to hew the beech
+    The hand that held the glaive,
+  For leaves to spread our lowly bed,                            275
+    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 slaughtered deer,
+    To keep the cold away."                                      280
+
+  "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,                              285
+    Nor thou the crimson sheen,
+  As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray,
+    As gay the forest-green.
+
+  "And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
+    And lost thy native land,                                    290
+  Still Alice has her own Richard,
+    And he his Alice Brand."
+
+
+XIII
+
+BALLAD--(_Continued_)
+
+  'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,
+    So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
+  On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side,                    295
+    Lord Richard's ax is ringing.
+
+  Up spoke the moody Elfin King,
+      Who wonned within the hill,
+  Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,
+      His voice was ghostly shrill.                              300
+
+  "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                                305
+    The fairies' fatal green?
+
+  "Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,
+    For thou wert christened man;
+  For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
+    For muttered word or ban.                                    310
+
+  "Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,
+    The curse of the sleepless eye;
+  Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
+    Nor yet find leave to die."
+
+
+XIV
+
+BALLAD--(_Continued_)
+
+  'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,                     315
+    Though the birds have stilled their singing;
+  The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
+    And Richard is fagots bringing.
+
+  Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
+    Before Lord Richard stands,                                  320
+  And, as he crossed and blessed 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,                                     325
+  "And if there's blood upon his hand,
+    'Tis but the blood of deer."
+
+  "Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!
+    It cleaves unto his hand,
+  The stain of thine own kindly blood,                           330
+    The blood of Ethert Brand."
+
+  Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,
+    And made the holy sign,
+  "And if there's blood on Richard's hand,
+    A spotless hand is mine.                                     335
+
+  "And I conjure thee, Demon elf,
+    By Him whom Demons fear,
+  To show us whence thou art thyself,
+    And what thine errand here?"
+
+
+XV
+
+BALLAD--(_Continued_)
+
+  "'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairyland                          340
+    When fairy birds are singing,
+  When the court doth ride by their monarch's side
+    With bit and bridle ringing;
+
+  "And gaily shines the Fairyland--
+    But all is glistening show,                                  345
+  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,                             350
+    And now like dwarf and ape.
+
+  "It was between the night and day,
+    When the Fairy King has power,
+  That I sunk down in a sinful fray,
+  And, 'twixt life and death, was snatched away                  355
+    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."                                    360
+
+  She crossed him once--she crossed him twice--
+    That lady was so brave;
+  The fouler grew his goblin hue,
+    The darker grew the cave.
+
+  She crossed him thrice, that lady bold;                        365
+    He rose beneath her hand
+  The fairest knight on Scottish mold,
+    Her brother, Ethert Brand!
+
+  Merry it is in good greenwood,
+    When the mavis and merle are singing,                        370
+  But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray,
+    When all the bells were ringing.
+
+
+XVI
+
+  Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed,
+  A stranger climbed the steepy glade;
+  His martial step, his stately mien,                            375
+  His hunting suit of Lincoln green,
+  His eagle glance, remembrance claims--
+  'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz-James.
+  Ellen beheld as in a dream,
+  Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream                     380
+  "Oh, 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                              385
+  Met me betimes this morning tide,
+  And marshaled, over bank and bourne,
+  The happy path of my return."
+  "The happy path!--what! said he nought
+  Of war, of battle to be fought,                                390
+  Of guarded pass?" "No, by my faith!
+  Nor saw I ought could augur scathe."
+  "O haste thee, Allan, to the kern,
+  --Yonder his tartans I discern;
+  Learn thou his purpose, and conjure                            395
+  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."                            400
+
+
+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 honor's weighed with death.
+  Then let me profit by my chance,                               405
+  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.                           410
+  Near Bochastle my horses wait;
+  They bear us soon to Stirling gate.
+  I'll place thee in a lovely bower,
+  I'll guard thee like a tender flower"--
+  "O hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art                         415
+  To say I do not read thy heart;
+  Too much, before, my selfish ear
+  Was idly soothed my praise to hear.
+  That fatal bait hath lured thee back,
+  In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track;                        420
+  And how, O how, can I atone
+  The wreck my vanity brought on!--
+  One way remains--I'll tell him all--
+  Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall!
+  Thou, whose light folly bears the blame,                       425
+  Buy thine own pardon with thy shame!
+  But first--my father is a man
+  Outlawed and exiled, under ban;
+  The price of blood is on his head,
+  With me 'twere infamy to wed.                                  430
+  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;                              435
+  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,                         440
+  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,                                    445
+  As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom,
+  And she sat sorrowing on his tomb.
+  Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye,
+  But not with hope fled sympathy.
+  He proffered to attend her side,                               450
+  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."                           455
+  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 crossed his brain,
+  He paused, and turned, and came again.                         460
+
+
+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,                            465
+  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,                           470
+  His lordship the embattled field.
+  What from a prince can I demand,
+  Who neither reck of state nor land?
+  Ellen, thy hand--the ring is thine;
+  Each guard and usher knows the sign.                           475
+  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,                               480
+  Paused--kissed her hand--and then was gone.
+  The aged Minstrel stood aghast,
+  So hastily Fitz-James shot past.
+  He joined his guide, and wending down
+  The ridges of the mountain brown,                              485
+  Across the stream they took their way,
+  That joins Loch Katrine to Achray.
+
+
+XX
+
+  All in the Trossachs' glen was still,
+  Noontide was sleeping on the hill:
+  Sudden his guide whooped loud and high--                       490
+  "Murdoch! was that a signal cry?"
+  He stammered forth--"I shout to scare
+  Yon raven from his dainty fare."
+  He looked--he knew the raven's prey,
+  His own brave steed--"Ah! gallant gray!                        495
+  For thee--for me, perchance--'twere well
+  We ne'er had seen the Trossachs' dell.
+  Murdoch, move first--but silently;
+  Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!"
+  Jealous and sullen on they fared,                              500
+  Each silent, each upon his guard.
+
+
+XXI
+
+  Now wound the path its dizzy ledge
+  Around a precipice's edge,
+  When lo! a wasted female form,
+  Blighted by wrath of sun and storm,                            505
+  In tattered weeds and wild array,
+  Stood on a cliff beside the way,
+  And glancing round her restless eye,
+  Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,
+  Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy.                         510
+  Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom;
+  With gesture wild she waved a plume
+  Of feathers which the eagles fling
+  To crag and cliff from dusky wing;
+  Such spoils her desperate step had sought,                     515
+  Where scarce was footing for the goat.
+  The tartan plaid she first descried,
+  And shrieked till all the rocks replied;
+  As loud she laughed when near they drew,
+  For then the Lowland garb she knew;                            520
+  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 strained and roughened, still                  525
+  Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill.
+
+
+XXII
+
+SONG
+
+  They bid me sleep, they bid me pray,
+    They say my brain is warped and wrung--
+  I cannot sleep on Highland brae,
+    I cannot pray in Highland tongue.                            530
+  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,                         535
+    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 drowned in blood the morning smile!                       540
+  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 gray,                             545
+  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,                             550
+  When Roderick forayed Devan side.
+  The gay bridegroom resistance made,
+  And felt our Chief's unconquered blade.
+  I marvel she is now at large,
+  But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge.                     555
+  Hence, brain-sick fool!"--he raised his bow.
+  "Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow,
+  I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far
+  As ever peasant pitched a bar!"--
+  "Thanks, champion, thanks!" the maniac cried,                  560
+  And pressed her to Fitz-James's side.
+  "See the gray 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!                            565
+  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 stayed,
+  Wave forth a banner fair and free,                             570
+  Meet signal for their revelry."
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  "Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still!"
+  "Oh! thou look'st kindly and I will.
+  Mine eye has dried and wasted been,
+  But still it loves the Lincoln green;                          575
+  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,                      580
+    And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay!
+
+  "It was not that I meant to tell....
+  But thou art wise and guessest well."
+  Then, in a low and broken tone,
+  And hurried note, the song went on.                            585
+  Still on the Clansman, fearfully,
+  She fixed her apprehensive eye;
+  Then turned it on the Knight, and then
+  Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen.
+
+
+XXV
+
+  "The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set,                590
+    Ever sing merrily, merrily;
+  The bows they bend, and the knives they whet,
+    Hunters live so cheerily.
+
+  "It was a stag, a stag of ten,
+    Bearing its branches sturdily;                               595
+  He came stately down the glen,
+    Ever sing hardily, hardily.
+
+  "It was there he met with a wounded doe,
+    She was bleeding deathfully;
+  She warned him of the toils below,                             600
+    Oh, so faithfully, faithfully!
+
+  "He had an eye, and he could heed,
+    Ever sing warily, warily;
+  He had a foot, and he could speed--
+    Hunters watch so narrowly."                                  605
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed,
+  When Ellen's hints and fears were lost;
+  But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought,
+  And Blanche's song conviction brought.
+  Not like a stag that spies the snare,                          610
+  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.                               615
+  The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest,
+  And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast.
+  Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed,
+  For ne'er had Alpine's son such need!
+  With heart of fire, and foot of wind,                          620
+  The fierce avenger is behind!
+  Fate judges of the rapid strife--
+  The forfeit death--the prize is life!
+  Thy kindred ambush lies before,
+  Close couched upon the heathery moor;                          625
+  Them couldst thou reach!--it may not be--
+  Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see,
+  The fiery Saxon gains on thee!
+  Resistless speeds the deadly thrust,
+  As lightning strikes the pine to dust;                         630
+  With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain,
+  Ere he can win his blade again.
+  Bent o'er the fallen, with falcon eye,
+  He grimly smiled to see him die;
+  Then slower wended back his way,                               635
+  Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.
+
+
+XXVII
+
+  She sat beneath a birchen-tree,
+  Her elbow resting on her knee;
+  She had withdrawn the fatal shaft,
+  And gazed on it, and feebly laughed;                           640
+  Her wreath of broom and feathers gray,
+  Daggled with blood, beside her lay.
+  The Knight to staunch the life-stream tried--
+  "Stranger, it is in vain!" she cried.
+  "This hour of death has given me more                          645
+  Of reason's power than years before;
+  For, as these ebbing veins decay,
+  My frenzied visions fade away.
+  A helpless injured wretch I die,
+  And something tells me in thine eye,                           650
+  That thou wert mine avenger born.
+  Seest thou this tress?--Oh! still I've worn
+  This little tress of yellow hair,
+  Through danger, frenzy, and despair!
+  It once was bright and clear as thine,                         655
+  But blood and tears have dimmed 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,                              660
+  Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,
+  And thou wilt bring it me again.
+  I waver still--O God! more bright
+  Let reason beam her parting light!--
+  Oh! by thy knighthood's honored sign,                          665
+  And for thy life preserved by mine,
+  When thou shalt see a darksome man,
+  Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan,
+  With tartans broad and shadowy plume
+  And hand of blood, and brow of gloom,                          670
+  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;                           675
+  Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims,
+  And now, with mingled grief and ire,
+  He saw the murdered maid expire.
+  "God, in my need, be my relief,
+  As I wreak this on yonder Chief!"                              680
+  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 swear                           685
+  No other favor 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,                          690
+  The stag at bay's a dangerous foe."
+  Barred from the known but guarded way,
+  Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray,
+  And oft must change his desperate track,
+  By stream and precipice turned back.                           695
+  Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,
+  From lack of food and loss of strength,
+  He couched him in a thicket hoar,
+  And thought his toils and perils o'er:
+  "Of all my rash adventures past,                               700
+  This frantic feat must prove the last!
+  Who e'er so mad but might have guessed,
+  That all this Highland hornet's nest
+  Would muster up in swarms so soon
+  As e'er they heard of bands at Doune?                          705
+  Like bloodhounds now they search me out--
+  Hark, to the whistle and the shout!--
+  If further through the wilds I go,
+  I only fall upon the foe.
+  I'll couch me here till evening gray,                          710
+  Then darkling try my dangerous way."
+
+
+XXIX
+
+  The shades of eve come slowly down,
+  The woods are wrapped in deeper brown,
+  The owl awakens from her dell,
+  The fox is heard upon the fell;                                715
+  Enough remains of glimmering light
+  To guide the wanderer's steps aright,
+  Yet not enough from far to show
+  His figure to the watchful foe.
+  With cautious step, and ear awake,                             720
+  He climbs the crag and threads the brake;
+  And not the summer solstice, there,
+  Tempered the midnight mountain air,
+  But every breeze, that swept the wold,
+  Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold.                         725
+  In dread, in danger, and alone,
+  Famished and chilled, through ways unknown,
+  Tangled and steep, he journeyed on;
+  Till, as a rock's huge point he turned,
+  A watch-fire close before him burned.                          730
+
+
+XXX
+
+  Beside its embers red and clear,
+  Basked, 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?"                        735
+  "Rest and a guide, and food and fire.
+  My life's beset, my path is lost,
+  The gale has chilled my limbs with frost."
+  "Art thou a friend to Roderick?" "No."
+  "Thou darest not call thyself a foe?"                          740
+  "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,                         745
+  Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend,
+  Who ever recked, where, how, or when,
+  The prowling fox was trapped or slain?
+  Thus treacherous scouts--yet sure they lie,
+  Who say thou camest a secret spy!"                             750
+  "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,                                755
+  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."                          760
+
+
+XXXI
+
+  He gave him of his Highland cheer,
+  The hardened flesh of mountain deer;
+  Dry fuel on the fire he laid,
+  And bade the Saxon share his plaid.
+  He tended him like welcome guest,                              765
+  Then thus his further speech addressed:
+  "Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu
+  A clansman born, a kinsman true;
+  Each word against his honor spoke,
+  Demands of me avenging stroke;                                 770
+  Yet more--upon thy fate, 'tis said,
+  A mighty augury is laid.
+  It rests with me to wind my horn--
+  Thou art with numbers overborne;
+  It rests with me, here, brand to brand,                        775
+  Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand;
+  But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause,
+  Will I depart from honor's laws;
+  To assail a wearied man were shame,
+  And stranger is a holy name;                                   780
+  Guidance and rest, 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,                  785
+  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!"                                790
+  "Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry
+  Sings us the lake's wild lullaby."
+  With that he shook the gathered heath,
+  And spread his plaid upon the wreath;
+  And the brave foemen, side by side,                            795
+  Lay peaceful down like brothers tried,
+  And slept until the dawning beam
+  Purpled the mountain and the stream.
+
+
+
+
+CANTO FIFTH
+
+THE COMBAT
+
+
+I
+
+  Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light,
+    When first, by the bewildered 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;                    5
+    Fair as that beam, although the fairest far,
+  Giving to horror grace, to danger pride,
+    Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star,
+  Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War.
+
+
+II
+
+  That early beam, so fair and sheen,                             10
+  Was twinkling through the hazel screen,
+  When rousing at its glimmer red,
+  The warriors left their lowly bed,
+  Looked out upon the dappled sky,
+  Muttered their soldier matins by,                               15
+  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,                              20
+  By thicket green and mountain gray.
+  A wildering path--they winded now
+  Along the precipice's brow,
+  Commanding the rich scenes beneath,
+  The windings of the Forth and Teith,                            25
+  And all the vales between that lie,
+  Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky;
+  Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance
+  Gained not the length of horseman's lance.
+  'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain                           30
+  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!                                35
+
+
+III
+
+  At length they came where, stern and steep,
+  The hill sinks down upon the deep.
+  Here Vennachar in silver flows,
+  There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose;
+  Ever the hollow path twined on,                                 40
+  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,                           45
+  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.
+  But where the lake slept deep and still,                        50
+  Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill;
+  And oft both path and hill were torn,
+  Where wintry torrents down had borne,
+  And heaped upon the cumbered land
+  Its wreck of gravel, rocks and sand.                            55
+  So toilsome was the road to trace,
+  The guide, abating of his pace,
+  Led slowly through the pass's jaws,
+  And asked Fitz-James, by what strange cause
+  He sought these wilds, traversed by few,                        60
+  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.                             65
+  When here, but three days since, I came,
+  Bewildered in pursuit of game,
+  All seemed as peaceful and as still
+  As the mist slumbering on yon hill;
+  Thy dangerous Chief was then afar,                              70
+  Nor soon expected back from war.
+  Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide,
+  Though deep perchance the villian lied."
+  "Yet why a second venture try?"
+  "A warrior thou, and ask me why!                                75
+  Moves our free course by such fixed cause
+  As gives the poor mechanic laws?
+  Enough, I sought to drive away
+  The lazy hours of peaceful day;
+  Slight cause will then suffice to guide                         80
+  A Knight's free footsteps far and wide--
+  A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed,
+  The merry glance of mountain maid;
+  Or, if a path be dangerous known,
+  The danger's self is lure alone."                               85
+
+
+V
+
+  "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                              90
+  To guard King James's sports I heard;
+  Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear
+  This muster of the mountaineer,
+  Their pennons will abroad be flung,
+  Which else in Doune had peaceful hung."                         95
+  "Free be they flung!--for we were loath
+  Their silken folds should feast the moth.
+  Free be they flung!--as free shall wave
+  Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave.
+  But, Stranger, peaceful since you came,                        100
+  Bewildered in the mountain game,
+  Whence the bold boast by which you show
+  Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?"
+  "Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew
+  Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu,                         105
+  Save as an outlawed desperate man,
+  The chief of a rebellious clan,
+  Who, in the Regent's court and sight,
+  With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight;
+  Yet this alone might from his part                             110
+  Sever each true and loyal heart."
+
+
+VI
+
+  Wrathful at such arraignment foul,
+  Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl.
+  A space he paused, then sternly said,
+  "And heard'st thou why he drew his blade?                      115
+  Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow
+  Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe?
+  What recked the Chieftain if he stood
+  On Highland heath, or Holy-Rood?
+  He rights such wrong where it is given,                        120
+  If it were in the court of heaven."
+  "Still was it outrage--yet, 'tis true,
+  Not then claimed sovereignty his due;
+  While Albany, with feeble hand,
+  Held borrowed truncheon of command,                            125
+  The young King, mewed in Stirling tower,
+  Was stranger to respect and power.
+  But then, thy Chieftain's robber life!
+  Winning mean prey by causeless strife,
+  Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain                            130
+  His herds and harvest reared in vain--
+  Methinks a soul, like thine, should scorn
+  The spoils from such foul foray borne."
+
+
+VII
+
+  The Gael beheld him grim the while,
+  And answered with disdainful smile--                           135
+  "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,                         140
+  With gentle slopes and groves between;
+  These fertile plains, that softened vale,
+  Were once the birthright of the Gael;
+  The stranger came with iron hand,
+  And from our fathers reft the land.                            145
+  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,                          150
+  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.'                       155
+  Pent in this fortress of the North,
+  Think'st thou we will not sally forth,
+  To spoil the spoiler as we may,
+  And from the robber rend the prey?
+  Aye, by my soul! While on yon plain                            160
+  The Saxon rears one shock of grain;
+  While, of ten thousand herds, there strays
+  But one along yon river's maze,
+  The Gael, of plain and river heir,
+  Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share.                     165
+  Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold
+  That plundering Lowland field and fold
+  Is aught but retribution true?
+  Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu."
+
+
+VIII
+
+  Answered Fitz-James, "And if I sought,                         170
+  Think'st thou no other could be brought?
+  What deem ye of my path waylaid?
+  My life given o'er to ambuscade?"
+  "As of a meed to rashness due:
+  Hadst thou sent warning fair and true--                        175
+  I seek my hound, or falcon strayed,
+  I seek, good faith, a Highland maid--
+  Free hadst thou been to come and go;
+  But secret path marks secret foe.
+  Nor yet, for this, even as a spy,                              180
+  Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die.
+  Save to fulfill an augury."
+  "Well, let it pass; nor will I now
+  Fresh cause of enmity avow,
+  To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow.                          185
+  Enough, I am by promise tied
+  To match me with this man of pride:
+  Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen
+  In peace; but when I come again,
+  I come with banner, brand, and bow,                            190
+  As leader seeks his mortal foe.
+  For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower,
+  Ne'er panted for the appointed hour,
+  As I, until before me stand
+  This rebel Chieftain and his band!"                            195
+
+
+IX
+
+  "Have, then, thy wish!" He whistled shrill,
+  And he was answered from the hill;
+  Wild as the scream of the curlew,
+  From crag to crag the signal flew.
+  Instant, through copse and heath, arose                        200
+  Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
+  On right, on left, above, below,
+  Sprung up at once the lurking foe;
+  From shingles gray their lances start,
+  The bracken bush sends forth the dart,                         205
+  The rushes and the willow-wand
+  Are bristling into ax and brand,
+  And every tuft of broom gives life
+  To plaided warrior armed for strife.
+  That whistle garrisoned the glen                               210
+  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.                        215
+  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,                            220
+  Upon the mountain-side they hung.
+  The Mountaineer cast glance of pride
+  Along Benledi's living side,
+  Then fixed his eye and sable brow
+  Full on Fitz-James--"How say'st thou now?                      225
+  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 thrilled with sudden start,
+  He manned himself with dauntless air,                          230
+  Returned the Chief his haughty stare,
+  His back against a rock he bore,
+  And firmly placed his foot before:
+  "Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
+  From its firm base as soon as I."                              235
+  Sir Roderick marked--and in his eyes
+  Respect was mingled with surprise,
+  And the stern joy which warriors feel
+  In foemen worthy of their steel.
+  Short space he stood--then waved his hand;                     240
+  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;                                 245
+  It seemed as if their mother Earth
+  Had swallowed up her warlike birth.
+  The wind's last breath had tossed in air,
+  Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair;
+  The next but swept a lone hill-side,                           250
+  Where heath and fern were waving wide.
+  The sun's last glance was glinted back,
+  From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,
+  The next, all unreflected, shone
+  On bracken green, and cold gray stone.                         255
+
+
+XI
+
+  Fitz-James looked round--yet scarce believed
+  The witness that his sight received;
+  Such apparition well might seem
+  Delusion of a dreadful dream.
+  Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,                              260
+  And to his look the Chief replied,
+  "Fear naught--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;                                    265
+  Nor would I call a clansman's brand
+  For aid against one valiant hand,
+  Though on our strife lay every vale
+  Rent by the Saxon from the Gael.
+  So move we on--I only meant                                    270
+  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;                             275
+  Yet dare not say, that now his blood
+  Kept on its wont and tempered flood,
+  As, following Roderick's stride, he drew
+  That seeming lonesome pathway through,
+  Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife                          280
+  With lances, that, to take his life,
+  Waited but signal from a guide,
+  So late dishonored and defied.
+  Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round
+  The vanished guardians of the ground,                          285
+  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                           290
+  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.                                   295
+
+
+XII
+
+  The Chief in silence strode before,
+  And reached that torrent's sounding shore,
+  Which, daughter of three mighty lakes,
+  From Vennachar in silver breaks,
+  Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines                  300
+  On Bochastle the moldering lines,
+  Where Rome, the Empress of the world,
+  Of yore her eagle wings unfurled.
+  And here his course the Chieftain stayed,
+  Threw down his target and his plaid,                           305
+  And to the Lowland warrior said--
+  "Bold Saxon! to his promise just,
+  Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust.
+  This murderous Chief, this ruthless man,
+  This head of a rebellious clan,                                310
+  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,                            315
+  Armed, 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 delayed,
+  When foeman bade me draw my blade;                             320
+  Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death;
+  Yet sure thy fair and generous faith,
+  And my deep debt for life preserved,
+  A better meed have well deserved.
+  Can naught but blood our feud atone?                           325
+  Are there no means?" "No, Stranger, none!
+  And hear--to fire thy flagging zeal--
+  The Saxon cause rests on thy steel;
+  For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred
+  Between the living and the dead;                               330
+  'Who spills the foremost foeman's life,
+  His party conquers in the strife.'"
+  "Then, by my word," the Saxon said,
+  "The riddle is already read.
+  Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff--                          335
+  There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.
+  Thus Fate hath 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,                           340
+  Or if the King shall not agree
+  To grant thee grace and favor free,
+  I plight mine honor, oath, and word,
+  That, to thy native strengths restored,
+  With each advantage shalt thou stand,                          345
+  That aids thee now to guard thy land."
+
+
+XIV
+
+  Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye--
+  "Soars thy presumption, then, so high,
+  Because a wretched kern ye slew,
+  Homage to name to Roderick Dhu?                                350
+  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 valor light                           355
+  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!                         360
+  It nerves my heart, it steels my sword;
+  For I have sworn this braid to stain
+  In the best blood that warms thy vein.
+  Now, truce, farewell! and ruth, begone!--
+  Yet think not that by thee alone,                              365
+  Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown;
+  Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn,
+  Start at my whistle clansmen stern,
+  Of this small horn one feeble blast
+  Would fearful odds against thee cast.                          370
+  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 looked to sun, and stream, and plain,                     375
+  As what they ne'er might see again;
+  Then foot, and point, and eye opposed,
+  In dubious strife they darkly closed.
+
+
+XV
+
+  Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu,
+  That on the field his targe he threw,                          380
+  Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide
+  Had death so often dashed aside;
+  For, trained abroad his arms to wield,
+  Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield.
+  He practiced every pass and ward,                              385
+  To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard;
+  While less expert, though stronger far,
+  The Gael maintained unequal war.
+  Three times in closing strife they stood,
+  And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood;                        390
+  No stinted draft, no scanty tide,
+  The gushing flood the tartans dyed.
+  Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain,
+  And showered his blows like wintry rain;
+  And, as firm rock, or castle-roof,                             395
+  Against the winter shower is proof,
+  The foe, invulnerable still,
+  Foiled his wild rage by steady skill;
+  Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand
+  Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand,                        400
+  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!                               405
+  Let recreant yield, who fears to die."
+  --Like adder darting from his coil,
+  Like wolf that dashes through the toil,
+  Like mountain-cat who guards her young,
+  Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung;                         410
+  Received, but recked not of a wound,
+  And locked 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,                     415
+  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 compressed
+  His knee was planted in his breast;                            420
+  His clotted locks he backward threw,
+  Across his brow his hand he drew,
+  From blood and mist to clear his sight,
+  Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright!
+  But hate and fury ill supplied                                 425
+  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 gleamed on high,
+  Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye.                   430
+  Down came the blow! but in the heath
+  The erring blade found bloodless sheath.
+  The struggling foe may now unclasp
+  The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp;
+  Unwounded from the dreadful close,                             435
+  But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.
+
+
+XVII
+
+  He faltered thanks to Heaven for life,
+  Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife;
+  Next on his foe his look he cast,
+  Whose every gasp appeared his last;                            440
+  In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid--
+  "Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid;
+  Yet with thy foe must die, or live,
+  The praise that faith and valor give."
+  With that he blew a bugle-note,                                445
+  Undid the collar from his throat,
+  Unbonneted, and by the wave
+  Sat down his brow and hands to lave.
+  Then faint afar are heard the feet
+  Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet;                             450
+  The sounds increase, and now are seen
+  Four mounted squires in Lincoln green;
+  Two who bear lance, and two who lead,
+  By loosened rein, a saddled steed;
+  Each onward held his headlong course,                          455
+  And by Fitz-James reined up his horse--
+  With wonder viewed the bloody spot--
+  "Exclaim not, gallants! question not.
+  You, Herbert and Luffness, alight,
+  And bind the wounds of yonder knight;                          460
+  Let the gray palfrey bear his weight,
+  We destined for a fairer freight,
+  And bring him on to Stirling straight;
+  I will before at better speed,
+  To seek fresh horse and fitting weed.                          465
+  The sun rides high--I must be boune,
+  To see the archer-game at noon;
+  But lightly Bayard clears the lea--
+  De Vaux and Herries, follow me.
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  "Stand, Bayard, stand!" The steed obeyed,                      470
+  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 stayed,
+  No grasp upon the saddle laid,                                 475
+  But wreathed his left hand in the mane,
+  And lightly bounded from the plain,
+  Turned on the horse his armed heel,
+  And stirred his courage with the steel.
+  Bounded the fiery steed in air;                                480
+  The rider sat erect and fair;
+  Then like a bolt from steel crossbow
+  Forth launched, along the plain they go.
+  They dashed that rapid torrent through,
+  And up Carhonie's hill they flew;                              485
+  Still at the gallop pricked the Knight,
+  His merrymen followed as they might.
+  Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride,
+  And in the race they mock thy tide;
+  Torry and Lendrick now are past,                               490
+  And Deanstown lies behind them cast;
+  They rise, the bannered towers of Doune,
+  They sink in distant woodland soon;
+  Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire,
+  They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre;                     495
+  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,                         500
+  With plash, with scramble, and with bound.
+  Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth!
+  And soon the bulwark of the North,
+  Gray Stirling, with her towers and town,
+  Upon their fleet career looked down.                           505
+
+
+XIX
+
+  As up the flinty path they strained
+  Sudden his steed the leader reined;
+  A signal to his squire he flung,
+  Who instant to his stirrup sprung:
+  "Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray,                       510
+  Who townward 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?"                   515
+  "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?                                  520
+  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!                         525
+  The uncle of the banished Earl.
+  Away, away, to court, to show
+  The near approach of dreaded foe;
+  The King must stand upon his guard;
+  Douglas and he must meet prepared."                            530
+  Then righthand wheeled their steeds, and straight
+  They won the castle's postern gate.
+
+
+XX
+
+  The Douglas, who had bent his way
+  From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey gray,
+  Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf,                            535
+  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.                              540
+  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 pardoned one repining tear!                                 545
+  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;                               550
+  And thou, O sad and fatal mound!
+  That oft hast heard the death-ax sound,
+  As on the noblest of the land
+  Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand--
+  The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb                          555
+  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 maskers meet!                            560
+  Banner and pageant, pipe and drum,
+  And merry morris dancers come.
+  I guess, by all this quaint array,
+  The burghers hold their sports today.
+  James will be there; he loves such show,                       565
+  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'll follow to the Castle-park,                                570
+  And play my prize--King James shall mark
+  If age has tamed these sinews stark,
+  Whose force so oft, in happier days,
+  His boyish wonder loved to praise."
+
+
+XXI
+
+  The Castle gates were open flung,                              575
+  The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung,
+  And echoed loud the flinty street
+  Beneath the coursers' clattering feet,
+  As slowly down the steep descent
+  Fair Scotland's King and nobles went,                          580
+  While all along the crowded way
+  Was jubilee and loud huzza.
+  And ever James was bending low,
+  To his white jennet's saddle-bow,
+  Doffing his cap to city dame,                                  585
+  Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame.
+  And well the simperer might be vain--
+  He chose the fairest of the train.
+  Gravely he greets each city sire,
+  Commends each pageant's quaint attire.                         590
+  Gives to the dancers thanks aloud,
+  And smiles and nods upon the crowd,
+  Who rend the heavens with their acclaims,
+  "Long live the Commons' King, King James!"
+  Behind the King thronged peer and knight,                      595
+  And noble dame and damsel bright,
+  Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay
+  Of the steep street and crowded way.
+  But in the train you might discern
+  Dark lowering brow and visage stern;                           600
+  There nobles mourned their pride restrained,
+  And the mean burgher's joys disdained;
+  And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan,
+  Were each from home a banished man,
+  There thought upon their own gray tower,                       605
+  Their waving woods, their feudal power,
+  And deemed themselves a shameful part
+  Of pageant which they cursed in heart.
+
+
+XXII
+
+  Now, in the Castle-park, drew out
+  Their checkered bands the joyous rout.                         610
+  Their morricers, with bell at heel,
+  And blade in hand, their mazes wheel;
+  And chief, beside the butts, there stand
+  Bold Robin Hood and all his band--
+  Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl,                         615
+  Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl,
+  Maid Marion, fair as ivory bone,
+  Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John;
+  Their bugles challenge all that will,
+  In archery to prove their skill.                               620
+  The Douglas bent a bow of might--
+  His first shaft centered in the white,
+  And when in turn he shot again,
+  His second split the first in twain.
+  From the King's hand must Douglas take                         625
+  A silver dart, the archer's stake;
+  Fondly he watched, with watery eye,
+  Some answering glance of sympathy--
+  No kind emotion made reply!
+  Indifferent as to archer wight,                                630
+  The monarch gave the arrow bright.
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  Now, clear the ring! for, hand to hand,
+  The manly wrestlers take their stand.
+  Two o'er the rest superior rose,
+  And proud demanded mightier foes,                              635
+  Nor called 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                         640
+  To Douglas gave a golden ring,
+  While coldly glanced his eye of blue,
+  As frozen drop of wintry dew.
+  Douglas would speak, but in his breast
+  His struggling soul his words suppressed;                      645
+  Indignant then he turned him where
+  Their arms the brawny yeomen bare.
+  To hurl the massive bar in air.
+  When each his utmost strength had shown,
+  The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone                           650
+  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 gray-haired sires, who know the past,                      655
+  To strangers point the Douglas-cast,
+  And moralize on the decay
+  Of Scottish strength in modern day.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+  The vale with loud applauses rang,
+  The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang.                          660
+  The King, with look unmoved, bestowed
+  A purse well-filled with pieces broad.
+  Indignant smiled the Douglas proud,
+  And threw the gold among the crowd,
+  Who now, with anxious wonder, scan,                            665
+  And sharper glance, the dark gray man;
+  Till whispers rose among the throng,
+  That heart so free, and hand so strong,
+  Must to the Douglas blood belong.
+  The old men marked and shook the head,                         670
+  To see his hair with silver spread,
+  And winked aside, and told each son,
+  Of feats upon the English done,
+  Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand
+  Was exiled from his native land.                               675
+  The women praised his stately form,
+  Though wrecked by many a winter's storm;
+  The youth with awe and wonder saw
+  His strength surpassing Nature's law.
+  Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd,                      680
+  Till murmur rose to clamors loud.
+  But not a glance from that proud ring
+  Of peers who circled round the King,
+  With Douglas held communion kind,
+  Or called the banished man to mind;                            685
+  No, not from those who, at the chase,
+  Once held his side the honored place,
+  Begirt his board, and, in the field,
+  Found safety underneath his shield;
+  For he, whom royal eyes disown,                                690
+  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 favorite greyhounds should pull down,                      695
+  That venison free, and Bordeaux wine,
+  Might serve the archery to dine.
+  But Lufra--whom from Douglas' side
+  Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide,
+  The fleetest hound in all the North--                          700
+  Brave Lufra saw and darted forth.
+  She left the royal hounds mid-way,
+  And dashing on the antlered prey,
+  Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank,
+  And deep the flowing life-blood drank.                         705
+  The King's stout huntsman saw the sport
+  By strange intruder broken short,
+  Came up, and with his leash unbound,
+  In anger struck the noble hound.
+  The Douglas had endured, that morn,                            710
+  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,                          715
+  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,                            720
+  In darkened brow and flashing eye;
+  As waves before the bark divide,
+  The crowd gave way before his stride;
+  Needs but a buffet and no more,
+  The groom lies senseless in his gore.                          725
+  Such blow no other hand could deal,
+  Though gauntleted in glove of steel.
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  Then clamored loud the royal train,
+  And brandished swords and staves amain,
+  But stern the Baron's warning--"Back!                          730
+  Back, on your lives, ye menial pack!
+  Beware the Douglas.--Yes! behold,
+  King James! the Douglas, doomed of old,
+  And vainly sought for near and far,
+  A victim to atone the war,                                     735
+  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 misproud ambitious clan,                               740
+  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?                              745
+  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 frowned,                  750
+  "And bid our horsemen clear the ground."
+
+
+XXVII
+
+  Then uproar wild and misarray
+  Marred the fair form of festal day.
+  The horsemen pricked among the crowd,
+  Repelled by threats and insult loud;                           755
+  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                             760
+  The royal spears in circle deep,
+  And slowly scale the pathway steep;
+  While on the rear in thunder pour
+  The rabble with disordered roar.
+  With grief the noble Douglas saw                               765
+  The Commons rise against the law,
+  And to the leading soldier said--
+  "Sir John of Hyndford! 'twas my blade,
+  That knighthood on thy shoulder laid;
+  For that good deed, permit me then                             770
+  A word with these misguided men.
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+  "Hear, gentle friends! ere yet for me,
+  Ye break the bands of fealty.
+  My life, my honor, and my cause,
+  I tender free to Scotland's laws.                              775
+  Are these so weak as must require
+  The aid of your misguided ire?
+  Or, if I suffer causeless wrong,
+  Is then my selfish rage so strong,
+  My sense of public weal so low,                                780
+  That, for mean vengeance on a foe,
+  Those cords of love I should unbind,
+  Which knit my country and my kind?
+  O no! Believe, in yonder tower
+  It will not soothe my captive hour,                            785
+  To know those spears our foes should dread,
+  For me in kindred gore are red;
+  To know, in fruitless brawl begun,
+  For me, that mother wails her son;
+  For me, that widow's mate expires;                             790
+  For me, that orphans weep their sires;
+  That patriots mourn insulted laws,
+  And curse the Douglas for the cause.
+  O let your patience ward such ill,
+  And keep your right to love me still!"                         795
+
+
+XXIX
+
+  The crowd's wild fury sunk again
+  In tears, as tempests melt in rain.
+  With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed
+  For blessings on his generous head,
+  Who for his country felt alone,                                800
+  And prized her blood beyond his own.
+  Old men, upon the verge of life,
+  Blessed him who stayed the civil strife;
+  And mothers held their babes on high,
+  The self-devoted Chief to spy,                                 805
+  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,                          810
+  The Douglas up the hill he led,
+  And at the Castle's battled verge,
+  With sighs resigned his honored charge.
+
+
+XXX
+
+  The offended Monarch rode apart,
+  With bitter thought and swelling heart,                        815
+  And would not now vouchsafe again
+  Through Stirling streets to lead his train.
+  "O Lennox, who would wish to rule
+  This changeling crowd, this common fool?
+  Hear'st thou," he said, "the loud acclaim,                     820
+  With which they shout the Douglas name?
+  With like acclaim, the vulgar throat
+  Strained for King James their morning note;
+  With like acclaim they hailed the day
+  When first I broke the Douglas' sway;                          825
+  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,                              830
+  And fickle as a changeful dream;
+  Fantastic as a woman's mood,
+  And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood.
+  Thou many-headed monster-thing,
+  O who could wish to be thy king!                               835
+
+
+XXXI
+
+  "But soft! what messenger of speed
+  Spurs hitherward his panting steed?
+  I guess his cognizance afar--
+  What from our cousin, John of Mar?"--
+  "He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound                    840
+  Within the safe and guarded ground;
+  For some foul purpose yet unknown--
+  Most sure for evil to the throne--
+  The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu,
+  Has summoned his rebellious crew;                              845
+  'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid
+  These loose banditti stand arrayed.
+  The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune,
+  To break their muster marched, and soon
+  Your Grace will hear of battle fought;                         850
+  But earnestly the Earl besought,
+  Till for such danger he provide,
+  With scanty train you will not ride."
+
+
+XXXII
+
+  "Thou warn'st me I have done amiss--
+  I should have earlier looked to this;                          855
+  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,                               860
+  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 kingdom's laws.                               865
+  The tidings of their leaders lost
+  Will soon dissolve the mountain host,
+  Nor would we that the vulgar feel
+  For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel.
+  Bear Mar our message, Braco; fly!"                             870
+  He turned his steed--"My liege, I hie,
+  Yet, ere I cross this lily lawn,
+  I fear the broadswords will be drawn."
+  The turf the flying courser spurned,
+  And to his towers the King returned.                           875
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+  Ill with King James's mood that day,
+  Suited gay feast and minstrel lay;
+  Soon were dismissed the courtly throng,
+  And soon cut short the festal song.
+  Nor less upon the saddened town                                880
+  The evening sunk in sorrow down.
+  The burghers spoke of civil jar,
+  Of rumored feuds and mountain war,
+  Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu,
+  All up in arms--The Douglas too,                               885
+  They mourned him pent within the hold,
+  "Where stout Earl William was of old."
+  And there his word the speaker stayed,
+  And finger on his lip he laid,
+  Or pointed to his dagger blade.                                890
+  But jaded horsemen, from the west,
+  At evening to the Castle pressed;
+  And busy talkers said they bore
+  Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore;
+  At noon the deadly fray begun,                                 895
+  And lasted till the set of sun.
+  Thus giddy rumor shook the town,
+  Till closed the Night her pennons brown.
+
+
+
+
+CANTO SIXTH
+
+THE GUARD-ROOM
+
+
+I
+
+  The sun, awakening, through the smoky air
+    Of the dark city casts a sullen glance,
+  Rousing each caitiff to his task of care,
+    Of sinful man the sad inheritance;
+  Summoning revelers from the lagging dance,                       5
+    Scaring the prowling robber to his den;
+  Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance,
+    And warning student pale to leave his pen,
+  And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men.
+
+  What various scenes, and, Oh! what scenes of woe,               10
+    Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam!
+  The fevered patient, from his pallet low,
+    Through crowded hospital beholds its stream;
+  The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam;
+    The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail;                 15
+  The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream;
+    The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale,
+  Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail.
+
+
+II
+
+  At dawn the towers of Stirling rang
+  With soldier-step and weapon-clang,                             20
+  While drums, with rolling note, foretell
+  Relief to weary sentinel.
+  Through narrow loop and casement barred,
+  The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard,
+  And, struggling with the smoky air,                             25
+  Deadened the torches' yellow glare.
+  In comfortless alliance shone
+  The lights through arch of blackened stone,
+  And showed wild shapes in garb of war,
+  Faces deformed with beard and scar,                             30
+  All haggard from the midnight watch,
+  And fevered with the stern debauch;
+  For the oak table's massive board,
+  Flooded with wine, with fragments stored,
+  And beakers drained, and cups o'erthrown,                       35
+  Showed in what sport the night had flown.
+  Some, weary, snored on floor and bench;
+  Some labored still their thirst to quench;
+  Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands
+  O'er the huge chimney's dying brands,                           40
+  While round them, or beside them flung,
+  At every step their harness rung.
+
+
+III
+
+  These drew not for their fields the sword,
+  Like tenants of a feudal lord,
+  Nor owned the patriarchal claim                                 45
+  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;                         50
+  The mountain-loving Switzer there
+  More freely breathed in mountain-air;
+  The Fleming there despised the soil,
+  That paid so ill the laborer's toil;
+  Their rolls showed French and German name;                      55
+  And merry England's exiles came,
+  To share, with ill-concealed disdain,
+  Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain.
+  All brave in arms, well trained to wield
+  The heavy halberd, brand, and shield;                           60
+  In camps licentious, wild and bold;
+  In pillage fierce and uncontrolled;
+  And now, by holytide and feast,
+  From rules of discipline released.
+
+
+IV
+
+  They held debate of bloody fray,                                65
+  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,                              70
+  Whose mangled limbs, and bodies gored,
+  Bore token of the mountain sword,
+  Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard,
+  Their prayers and feverish wails were heard;
+  Sad burden to the ruffian joke,                                 75
+  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,                                  80
+  In host a hardy mutineer,
+  But still the boldest of the crew,
+  When deed of danger was to do.
+  He grieved, that day, their games cut short,
+  And marred the dicer's brawling sport,                          85
+  And shouted loud, "Renew the bowl!
+  And, while in 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                   90
+  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!                      95
+
+  Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip
+  The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip,
+  Says, that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly,
+  And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye;
+  Yet whoop, Jack! kiss Gillian the quicker,                     100
+  Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar!
+
+  Our vicar thus preaches--and why should he not?
+  For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot;
+  And 'tis right of his office poor laymen to lurch,
+  Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church.            105
+  Yet whoop, bully-boys! off with your liquor,
+  Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the Vicar!
+
+
+VI
+
+  The warder's challenge, heard without,
+  Stayed in mid-roar the merry shout.
+  A soldier to the portal went--                                 110
+  "Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent;
+  And--beat for jubilee the drum!
+  A maid and minstrel with him come."
+  Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred,
+  Was entering now the Court of Guard,                           115
+  A harper 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,                        120
+  From noon till eve we fought with foe,
+  As wild and as untamable
+  As the rude mountains where they dwell;
+  On both sides store of blood is lost,
+  Nor much success can either boast."                            125
+  "But whence thy captives, friend? Such spoil
+  As theirs must needs reward thy toil.
+  Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp;
+  Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp!
+  Get thee an ape, and trudge the land,                          130
+  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,                              135
+  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,                      140
+  Ever to strife and jangling bent;
+  "Shall he strike doe beside our lodge,
+  And yet the jealous niggard grudge
+  To pay the forester his fee?
+  I'll have my share, howe'er it be,                             145
+  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;                               150
+  But Ellen boldly stepped between,
+  And dropped at once the tartan screen.
+  So, from his morning cloud, appears
+  The sun of May, through summer tears.
+  The savage soldiery, amazed,                                   155
+  As on descended angel gazed;
+  Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed,
+  Stood half admiring, half ashamed.
+
+
+VIII
+
+  Boldly she spoke--"Soldiers, attend!
+  My father was the soldier's friend;                            160
+  Cheered him in camps, in marches led,
+  And with him in the battle bled.
+  Not from the valiant, or the strong,
+  Should exile's daughter suffer wrong."
+  Answered De Brent, most forward still                          165
+  In every feat of good or ill:
+  "I shame me of the part I played;
+  And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid!
+  An outlaw I by forest laws,
+  And merry Needwood knows the cause.                            170
+  Poor Rose--if Rose be living now"--
+  He wiped his iron eye and brow--
+  "Must bear such age, I think, as thou.
+  Hear ye, my mates; I go to call
+  The Captain of our watch to hall.                              175
+  There lies my halberd on the floor;
+  And he that steps my halberd o'er,
+  To do the maid injurious part,
+  My shaft shall quiver in his heart!
+  Beware loose speech, or jesting rough;                         180
+  Ye all know John de Brent. Enough."
+
+
+IX
+
+  Their Captain came, a gallant young--
+  Of Tullibardine's house he sprung--
+  Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight;
+  Gay was his mien, his humor light,                             185
+  And, though by courtesy controlled,
+  Forward his speech, his bearing bold.
+  The high-born maiden ill could brook
+  The scanning of his curious look
+  And dauntless eye; and yet, in sooth,                          190
+  Young Lewis was a generous youth;
+  But Ellen's lovely face and mien,
+  Ill suited to the garb and scene,
+  Might lightly bear construction strange,
+  And give loose fancy scope to range.                           195
+  "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,                          200
+  Or may the venture suit a squire?"
+  Her dark eye flashed--she paused and sighed--
+  "O what have I to do with pride!
+  Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife,
+  A suppliant for a father's life,                               205
+  I crave an audience of the King.
+  Behold, to back my suit, a ring,
+  The royal pledge of grateful claims,
+  Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James."
+
+
+X
+
+  The signet ring young Lewis took,                              210
+  With deep respect and altered look;
+  And said--"This ring our duties own;
+  And pardon, if to worth unknown,
+  In semblance mean obscurely veiled,
+  Lady, in aught my folly failed.                                215
+  Soon as the day flings wide his gates,
+  The King shall know what suitor waits.
+  Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower
+  Repose you till his waking hour;
+  Female attendance shall obey                                   220
+  Your hest, for service or array.
+  Permit I marshal you the way."
+  But, ere she followed, with the grace
+  And open bounty of her race,
+  She bade her slender purse be shared                           225
+  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 proffered gold:                        230
+  "Forgive a haughty English heart,
+  And O forget its ruder part!
+  The vacant purse shall be my share,
+  Which in my barret-cap I'll bear.
+  Perchance, in jeopardy of war,                                 235
+  Where gayer crests may keep afar."
+  With thanks--'twas all she could--the maid
+  His rugged courtesy repaid.
+
+
+XI
+
+  When Ellen forth with Lewis went,
+  Allan made suit to John of Brent:                              240
+  "My lady safe, O let your grace
+  Give me to see my master's face!
+  His minstrel I--to share his doom
+  Bound from the cradle to the tomb.
+  Tenth in descent, since first my sires                         245
+  Waked for his noble house their lyres,
+  Nor one of all the race was known
+  But prized its weal above their own.
+  With the Chief's birth begins our care;
+  Our harp must soothe the infant heir,                          250
+  Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace
+  His earliest feat of field or chase;
+  In peace, in war, our ranks we keep,
+  We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep,
+  Nor leave him till we pour our verse--                         255
+  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;                             260
+  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,                            265
+  More than to guide the laboring steer,
+  I had not dwelt an outcast here.
+  Come, good old Minstrel, follow me;
+  Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see."
+
+
+XII
+
+  Then, from a rusted iron hook,                                 270
+  A bunch of ponderous keys he took,
+  Lighted a torch, and Allan led
+  Through grated arch and passage dread.
+  Portals they passed, where, deep within,
+  Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters' din;                       275
+  Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored,
+  Lay wheel, and ax, and headsman's sword,
+  And many an hideous engine grim,
+  For wrenching joint, and crushing limb,
+  By artist formed, who deemed it shame                          280
+  And sin to give their work a name.
+  They halted at a low-browed porch,
+  And Brent to Allan gave the torch,
+  While bolt and chain he backward rolled
+  And made the bar unhasp its hold.                              285
+  They entered--'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                                 290
+  Decked the sad walls and oaken floor;
+  Such as the rugged days of old
+  Deemed fit for captive noble's hold.
+  "Here," said De Brent, "thou mayst remain
+  Till the Leech visit him again.                                295
+  Strict is his charge, the warders tell,
+  To tend the noble prisoner well."
+  Retiring then the bolt he drew,
+  And the lock's murmurings growled anew.
+  Roused at the sound, from lowly bed                            300
+  A captive feebly raised his head;
+  The wondering Minstrel looked, and knew--
+  Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu!
+  For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought,
+  They, erring, deemed the Chief he sought.                      305
+
+
+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!                            310
+  And oft his fevered 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--                           315
+  Oh! 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?                             320
+  Have they been ruined in my fall?
+  Ah, yes! or wherefore art thou here!
+  Yet speak--speak boldly--do not fear."
+  For Allan, who his mood well knew,
+  Was choked with grief and terror too.                          325
+  "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!"                      330
+  "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.                             335
+  Thy stately Pine is yet unbent,
+  Though many a goodly bough is rent."
+
+
+XIV
+
+  The Chieftain reared his form on high,
+  And fever's fire was in his eye;
+  But ghastly pale, and livid streaks                            340
+  Checkered 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 harper play, or warrior hear!...                         345
+  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,                             350
+  When met my clan the Saxon might.
+  I'll listen, till my fancy hears
+  The clang of swords, the crash of spears!
+  These grates, these walls, shall vanish then,
+  For the fair field of fighting men,                            355
+  And my free spirit burst away,
+  As if it soared from battle fray."
+  The trembling Bard with awe obeyed--
+  Slow on the harp his hand he laid;
+  But soon remembrance of the sight                              360
+  He witnessed from the mountain's height,
+  With what old Bertram told at night,
+  Awakened the full power of song,
+  And bore him in career along;
+  As shallop launched on river's side,                           365
+  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,                                 370
+  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,                            375
+      Nor ripple on the lake,
+    Upon her eyry nods the erne,
+      The deer has sought the brake;
+    The small birds will not sing aloud,
+      The springing trout lies still,                            380
+    So darkly glooms yon thunder cloud,
+    That swathes, as with a purple shroud,
+      Benledi's distant hill.
+    Is it the thunder's solemn sound
+      That mutters deep and dread,                               385
+    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                          390
+      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!                            395
+  To hero boune for battle-strife,
+    Or bard of martial lay,
+  'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life,
+    One glance at their array!
+
+
+XVI
+
+  "Their light-armed archers far and near                        400
+    Surveyed the tangled ground,
+  Their center ranks, with pike and spear,
+    A twilight forest frowned,
+  Their barded horsemen, in the rear,
+    The stern battalia crowned.                                  405
+  No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang,
+    Still were the pipe and drum;
+  Save heavy tread, and armor's clang,
+    The sullen march was dumb.
+  There breathed no wind their crests to shake,                  410
+    Or wave their flags abroad;
+  Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake,
+    That shadowed o'er their road.
+  Their vaward scouts no tidings bring,
+    Can rouse no lurking foe,                                    415
+  Nor spy a trace of living thing,
+    Save when they stirred the roe;
+    The host moves, like a deep-sea wave,
+    Where rise no rocks its pride to brave,
+      High-swelling, dark, and slow.                             420
+  The lake is passed, and now they gain
+  A narrow and a broken plain,
+  Before the Trossachs' rugged jaws;
+  And here the horse and spearmen pause,
+  While, to explore the dangerous glen,                          425
+  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 pealed the banner-cry of hell!                             430
+  Forth from the pass in tumult driven,
+  Like chaff before the wind of heaven,
+    The archery appear;
+  For life! for life! their flight they ply--
+  And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry,                         435
+  And plaids and bonnets waving high,
+  And broadswords flashing to the sky,
+    Are maddening in the rear.
+  Onward they drive, in dreadful race,
+    Pursuers and pursued;                                        440
+  Before that tide of flight and chase,
+  How shall it keep its rooted place,
+    The spearmen's twilight wood?
+  'Down, down,' cried Mar, 'your lances down!
+    Bear back both friend and foe!'                              445
+  Like reeds before the tempest's frown,
+  That serried grove of lances brown
+    At once lay leveled low;
+  And closely shouldering side to side,
+  The bristling ranks the onset bide.                            450
+  'We'll quell the savage mountaineer,
+    As their Tinchel cows the game!
+  They come as fleet as forest deer,
+    We'll drive them back as tame.'
+
+
+XVIII
+
+  "Bearing before them, in their course,                         455
+  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,                          460
+      Each targe was dark below;
+    And with the ocean's mighty swing,
+    When heaving to the tempest's wing,
+      They hurled them on the foe.
+  I heard the lance's shivering crash,                           465
+  As when the whirlwind rends the ash;
+  I heard the broadsword's deadly clang,
+  As if an hundred anvils rang!
+  But Moray wheeled his rearward rank
+  Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank,                            470
+      'My banner-man advance!
+    I see,' he cried, 'their column shake.
+    Now, gallants! for your ladies' sake,
+      Upon them with the lance!'
+    The horsemen dashed among the rout,                          475
+      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!                            480
+    One blast upon his bugle-horn
+      Were worth a thousand men.
+    And refluent through the pass of fear
+      The battle's tide was poured;
+    Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear,                       485
+      Vanished the mountain-sword.
+    As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep,
+      Receives her roaring linn,
+    As the dark caverns of the deep
+      Suck the wild whirlpool in,                                490
+  So did the deep and darksome pass
+  Devour the battle's mingled mass;
+  None linger now upon the plain,
+  Save those who ne'er shall fight again.
+
+
+XIX
+
+  "Now westward rolls the battle's din,                          495
+  That deep and doubling pass within.--
+  Minstrel, away! the work of fate
+  Is bearing on; its issue wait,
+  Where the rude Trossachs' dread defile
+  Opens on Katrine's lake and isle.--                            500
+  Gray Benvenue I soon repassed,
+  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                                    505
+      To the deep lake has given;
+  Strange gusts of wind from mountain-glen
+  Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again.
+  I heeded not the eddying surge,
+  Mine eye but saw the Trossachs' gorge,                         510
+  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                              515
+  The dirge of many a passing soul.
+  Nearer it comes--the dim-wood glen
+  The martial flood disgorged again,
+    But not in mingled tide;
+  The plaided warriors of the North                              520
+  High on the mountain thunder forth
+    And overhang its side;
+  While by the lake below appears
+  The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears.
+  At weary bay each shattered band,                              525
+  Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand;
+  Their banners stream like tattered sail,
+  That flings its fragments to the gale,
+  And broken arms and disarray
+  Marked the fell havoc of the day.                              530
+
+
+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,                        535
+  But women weak, that wring the hand;
+  'Tis there of yore the robber band
+      Their booty wont to pile.
+  My purse, with bonnet-pieces store,
+  To him will swim a bow-shot o'er,                              540
+  And loose a shallop from the shore.
+  Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then,
+  Lords of his mate, and brood, and den.'
+  Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung,
+  On earth his casque and corselet rung,                         545
+      He plunged him in the wave;
+  All saw the deed--the purpose knew,
+  And to their clamors Benvenue
+      A mingled echo gave;
+  The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer,                         550
+  The helpless females scream for fear,
+  And yells for rage the mountaineer.
+  'Twas then, as by the outcry riven,
+  Poured down at once the lowering heaven;
+  A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast,                       555
+  Her billows reared their snowy crest.
+  Well for the swimmer swelled they high,
+  To mar the Highland marksman's eye;
+  For round him showered, 'mid rain and hail,
+  The vengeful arrows of the Gael.                               560
+  In vain--he nears the isle--and lo!
+  His hand is on a shallop's bow.
+  Just then a flash of lightning came,
+  It tinged the waves and strand with flame;
+  I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame,                            565
+  Behind an oak I saw her stand,
+  A naked dirk gleamed in her hand;
+  It darkened--but, amid the moan
+  Of waves, I heard a dying groan;
+  Another flash!--the spearman floats                            570
+  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.                             575
+  Despite the elemental rage,
+  Again they hurried to engage;
+  But, ere they closed in desperate fight,
+  Bloody with spurring came a knight,
+  Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag,                       580
+  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
+  An herald's voice forbade the war,                             585
+  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                             590
+  How Roderick brooked 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;                           595
+  At length, no more his deafened ear
+  The minstrel melody can hear;
+  His face grows sharp--his hands are clenched,
+  As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched;
+  Set are his teeth, his fading eye                              600
+  Is sternly fixed on vacancy;
+  Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew
+  His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu!
+  Old Allan-bane looked on aghast,
+  While grim and still his spirit passed;                        605
+  But when he saw that life was fled,
+  He poured his wailing o'er the dead.
+
+
+XXII
+
+LAMENT
+
+  "And art thou cold and lowly laid,
+  Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid,
+  Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade!                      610
+  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                             615
+  I'll wail for Alpine's honored 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,                        620
+  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 honored Pine!                               625
+
+  "Sad was thy lot on mortal stage!
+  The captive thrush may brook the cage,
+  The prisoned eagle dies for rage.
+  Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain!
+  And, when its notes awake again,                               630
+  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 honored Pine."
+
+
+XXIII
+
+  Ellen, the while, with bursting heart,                         635
+  Remained in lordly bower apart,
+  Where played, with many colored gleams,
+  Through storied pane the rising beams.
+  In vain on gilded roof they fall,
+  And lightened up a tapestried wall,                            640
+  And for her use a menial train
+  A rich collation spread in vain.
+  The banquet proud, the chamber gay,
+  Scarce drew one curious glance astray;
+  Or if she looked, 'twas but to say,                            645
+  With better omen dawned 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,                             650
+  While Lufra, crouching by her side,
+  Her station claimed with jealous pride,
+  And Douglas, bent on woodland game,
+  Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme,
+  Whose answer, oft at random made,                              655
+  The wandering of his thoughts betrayed.
+  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.                          660
+  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.
+
+
+XXIV
+
+LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN
+
+  "My hawk is tired of perch and hood,                           665
+  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,                              670
+  With bended bow and bloodhound free,
+  For that's the life is meet for me.
+
+  "I hate to learn the ebb of time,
+  From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime,
+  Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl,                              675
+  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.                                 680
+
+  "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,                            685
+  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 heartsick lay was hardly said,
+  The list'ner had not turned her head,                          690
+  It trickled still, the starting tear,
+  When light a footstep struck her ear,
+  And Snowdoun's graceful knight was near.
+  She turned the hastier, lest again
+  The prisoner should renew his strain.                          695
+  "O welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said;
+  "How may an almost orphan maid
+  Pay the deep debt"--"O say not so!
+  To me no gratitude you owe.
+  Not mine, alas! the boon to give,                              700
+  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.                                 705
+  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,                              710
+  And gently whispered hope and cheer;
+  Her faltering steps, half led, half stayed,
+  Through gallery fair, and high arcade,
+  Till, at his touch, its wings of pride
+  A portal arch unfolded wide.                                   715
+
+
+XXVI
+
+  Within 'twas brilliant all and light,
+  A thronging scene of figures bright;
+  It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight,
+  As when the setting sun has given
+  Ten thousand hues to summer even,                              720
+  And from their tissue, fancy frames
+  Aerial knights and fairy dames.
+  Still by Fitz-James her footing stayed;
+  A few faint steps she forward made,
+  Then slow her drooping head she raised,                        725
+  And fearful round the presence gazed;
+  For him she sought, who owned this state,
+  The dreaded Prince whose will was fate!--
+  She gazed on many a princely port,
+  Might well have ruled a royal court;                           730
+  On many a splendid garb she gazed--
+  Then turned bewildered and amazed,
+  For all stood bare; and, in the room,
+  Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume.
+  To him each lady's look was lent;                              735
+  On him each courtier's eye was bent;
+  Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen,
+  He stood, in simple Lincoln green,
+  The center of the glittering ring--
+  And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King.                      740
+
+
+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--                           745
+  She showed the ring--she clasped her hands.
+  Oh! not a moment could he brook,
+  The generous Prince, that suppliant look!
+  Gently he raised her--and, the while,
+  Checked with a glance the circle's smile;                      750
+  Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed,
+  And bade her terrors be dismissed:
+  "Yes, Fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James
+  The fealty of Scotland claims.
+  To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring;                            755
+  He will redeem his signet-ring.
+  Ask naught for Douglas; yester even
+  His prince and he have much forgiven.
+  Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue,
+  I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong.                              760
+  We would not, to the vulgar crowd,
+  Yield what they craved with clamor loud;
+  Calmly we heard and judged his cause,
+  Our council aided, and our laws.
+  I stanched thy father's death-feud stern,                      765
+  With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn;
+  And Bothwell's lord henceforth we own
+  The friend and bulwark of our throne.
+  But, lovely infidel, how now?
+  What clouds thy misbelieving brow?                             770
+  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 Monarch drank, that happy hour,                            775
+  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;                          780
+  He stepped 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                           785
+  In life's more low but happier way,
+  'Tis under name which veils my power,
+  Nor falsely veils--for Stirling's tower
+  Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims,
+  And Normans call me James Fitz-James.                          790
+  Thus watch I o'er insulted laws,
+  Thus learn to right the injured cause."
+  Then, in a tone apart and low--
+  "Ah, little traitress! none must know
+  What idle dream, what lighter thought,                         795
+  What vanity full dearly bought,
+  Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew
+  My spell-bound steps to Benvenue,
+  In dangerous hour, and all but gave
+  Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive!"--                      800
+  Aloud he spoke, "Thou still dost hold
+  That little talisman of gold,
+  Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring--
+  What seeks fair Ellen of the King?"
+
+
+XXIX
+
+  Full well the conscious maiden guessed                         805
+  He probed the weakness of her breast;
+  But, with that consciousness, there came
+  A lightening of her fears for Graeme,
+  And more she deemed the Monarch's ire
+  Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire                         810
+  Rebellious 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.                           815
+  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?                              820
+  No other captive friend to save?"
+  Blushing, she turned her from the King,
+  And to the Douglas gave the ring,
+  As if she wished her sire to speak
+  The suit that stained her glowing cheek.                       825
+  "Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force,
+  And stubborn justice holds her course.
+  Malcolm, come forth!"--and, at the word,
+  Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's lord.
+  "For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues,                      830
+  From thee may Vengeance claim her dues,
+  Who, nurtured underneath our smile,
+  Hast paid our care by treacherous wile,
+  And sought, amid thy faithful clan,
+  A refuge for an outlawed man,                                  835
+  Dishonoring thus thy loyal name.
+  Fetters and warder for the Graeme!"
+  His chain of gold the King unstrung,
+  The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung,
+  Then gently drew the glittering band,                          840
+  And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand.
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+  Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark,
+    On purple peaks a deeper shade descending;
+  In twilight copse the glowworm lights her spark,
+    The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending.              845
+  Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending,
+    And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy;
+  Thy slumbers sweet with Nature's vespers blending,
+    With distant echo from the fold and lea,
+  And herdboy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee.            850
+
+  Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel harp!
+    Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway,
+  And little reck I of the censure sharp
+    May idly cavil at an idle lay.
+  Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way,               855
+    Through secret woes the world has never known,
+  When on the weary night dawned wearier day,
+    And bitterer was the grief devoured alone.
+  That I o'erlived such woes, Enchantress! is thine own.
+
+  Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire,                   860
+    Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string!
+  'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire,
+    'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing.
+  Receding now, the dying numbers ring
+    Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell,                    865
+  And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring
+    A wandering witch-note of the distant spell--
+  And now, 'tis silent all!--Enchantress, fare thee well!
+
+
+
+
+NOTES
+
+
+CANTO FIRST
+
+2. =witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring.= The well or spring of
+St. Fillan is on the summit of a hill near Loch Earn, some miles
+northeast of the scene of the poem. The reason why Scott places the
+"Harp of the North" here is that St. Fillan was the favorite saint of
+Robert Bruce, and a relic of the saint had been borne in a shrine by a
+warlike abbot at the battle of Bannockburn. The word "witch" (more
+properly spelled "wych") is connected with "wicker" and means "bending,"
+"drooping."
+
+10. =Caledon.= Caledonia, poetic name for Scotland.
+
+29. =Monan's rill.= Scott takes the liberty of assigning a "rill" to
+this Scottish martyr of the fourth century on his own authority, unless
+his editors have been at fault in failing to discover the stream
+indicated.
+
+31. =Glenartney's.= Glen Artney or Valley of the Artney. The Artney is a
+small river northeast of the main scene of the poem.
+
+33. =Benvoirlich.= "Ben" is Scottish for mountain. Benvoirlich is near
+the western end of Glenartney.
+
+53. =Uam-Var.= A mountain between Glenartney and the Braes of Doune. The
+name signifies "great den," and is derived from a rocky enclosure on the
+mountain-side, believed to have been used in primitive times as a toil
+or trap for deer. As told in Stanza IV a giant was fabled to have
+inhabited this den.
+
+71. =linn.= This word means either "waterfall" or "steep ravine." The
+latter is probably the meaning here.
+
+89. =Menteith.= A village and district southeast of the line of
+lakes--Loch Katrine, Loch Achray, and Loch Vennachar--about which the
+main action of the poem moves.
+
+93. =Lochard.= Loch Ard, a small lake south of Loch Katrine.
+=Aberfoyle.= A village east of Loch Ard.
+
+95. =Loch-Achray.= See note on 89.
+
+97. =Benvenue.= A mountain on the south bank of Loch Katrine.
+
+103. =Cambusmore.= An estate owned by Scott's friends, the Buchanans, on
+the border of the Braes of Doune.
+
+105. =Benledi.= A majestic mountain shutting in the horizon to the north
+of Loch Vennachar.
+
+106. =Bochastle's heath.= The plain between Loch Vennachar and the river
+Teith.
+
+112. =Brigg of Turk.= A romantic bridge, still in existence, between
+Loch Vennachar and Loch Achray.
+
+120. =dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed.= A breed of dogs, usually
+black in color, very keen of scent and powerful in build, were kept by
+the abbots of St. Hubert in commemoration of their patron saint, who was
+a hunter.
+
+138. =whinyard.= Obsolete term for _sword_.
+
+145. =Trossachs.= A wild and beautiful defile between Loch Katrine and
+Loch Achray. The word signifies "rough or bristled country."
+
+166. =Woe worth the chase.= "Woe worth" is an exclamation, equivalent to
+"alack!"
+
+178. =Round and around the sounds were cast.= Notice the mimicry of the
+echo in the vowel sounds of the line.
+
+196. =tower ... on Shinar's plain.= The Tower of Babel.
+
+208. =dewdrops sheen.= What part of speech is _sheen_? Is this use of
+the word obsolete in prose?
+
+227. =frequent flung.= "Frequent" is used in the original Latin sense
+(Lat. _frequens_) of "crowded together," "numerous."
+
+256. =Unless he climb, with footing nice.= Scott says: "Until the
+present road was made through the romantic pass I have presumptuously
+attempted to describe, there was no mode of issuing out of the defile
+called the Trossachs, excepting by a sort of ladder, composed of the
+branches and roots of trees." What is the meaning of "nice" here? What
+other meanings has the word had?
+
+313. =Highland plunderers.= The clans inhabiting the region about Loch
+Katrine were in the habit of making incursions into the neighboring
+Lowlands to plunder and lay waste the country. Their warlike habits were
+fostered by the rugged and almost inaccessible character of the country,
+which prevented the Lowlanders from retaliating upon them, and enabled
+them also to resist the royal authority.
+
+363. =snood.= A ribbon worn by Scotch lassies and upon marriage replaced
+by the matron's "curch" or cap. =plaid.= A rectangular shawl-like
+garment made of the checkered cloth called tartan.
+
+438. =couch was pulled.= Freshly pulled heather was the most luxurious
+bedding known to the Highlander.
+
+440. =ptarmigan and heath-cock.= These birds are a species of grouse,
+the one red, the other black.
+
+460. =on the visioned future bent.= The gift of second-sight was
+universally believed in at this period in the Highlands.
+
+504. =retreat in dangerous hour.= "The Celtic chieftains, whose lives
+were continually exposed to peril, had usually, in the most retired spot
+of their domain, some place of retreat for the hour of necessity ... a
+tower, a cavern, or a rustic hut." (Scott's note in edition of 1830.)
+
+546. =target.= What is the connection of this word with that used in
+archery and gun-practice?
+
+566. =brook to wield.= "Brook" commonly means "endure." What is its
+exact meaning here?
+
+573. =Ferragus, or Ascabart.= Two giants whose names appear frequently
+in medieval romances of chivalry. The first is better known as Ferran,
+under which name he figures in the _Orlando Furioso_ of Ariosto.
+Ascabart plays a part in the old English metrical romance of Sir Bevis
+of Hampton.
+
+580. =To whom, though more than kindred knew.= This is a very obscure
+expression for Scott, who is usually so careful to make himself clear.
+The meaning seems to be: Ellen regarded her as a mother, though that was
+more than the actual kinship of the two justified (literally "knew how
+to recognize").
+
+591. =Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James.= As appears later in the
+poem, these were not his true name and title, though he was entitled to
+bear them.
+
+622. =a harp unseen.= In modern Scotland the bagpipe has altogether
+taken the place of the harp. A writer of the sixteenth century says:
+"They (the Highlanders) take great delight to deck their harps with
+silver and precious stones; the poor ones that cannot attain thereunto
+deck them with crystal. They sing verses prettily compounded (i.e.,
+composed) containing for the most part praises of valiant men."
+
+638. =pibroch.= (Pronounced pee-brock.) A wild tumultuous tune played on
+the bagpipes in the onset of battle.
+
+642. =bittern.= A wading bird, allied to the heron.
+
+657. =reveille.= As the rhyme shows, this word is pronounced
+_reh-vail'yah_ here. The common pronunciation in the United States is
+_rev-a-lee'_. It is the drum-beat or bugle-call at dawn to arouse
+soldiers.
+
+
+CANTO SECOND
+
+1. =blackcock.= See note to I, 440.
+
+7. =minstrel grey.= Until well on in the eighteenth century it was
+customary for Highland chieftains to keep in their service a bard, whose
+chief duty it was to sing the exploits of the ancestors of the line.
+
+69. =Lead forth his fleet.= What kind of figure is contained in the word
+_fleet_ as applied to the flock of ducks?
+
+131. =harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed.= St. Modan was not a harper,
+as Scott elsewhere ingenuously confesses, adding, however, that "Saint
+Dunstan certainly did play upon that instrument."
+
+141. =Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall.= The minstrel tries
+to account for the strange way in which his harp gives back mournful
+sounds instead of the joyous ones he is trying to evoke, by calling to
+Ellen's mind two other occasions when it behaved similarly. One of these
+was when it foreboded the death of Ellen's mother; the other when it
+foreboded the exile of the Douglasses during the minority of James V.
+For particulars, see the introduction on the historical setting of the
+poem. Bothwell Castle is on the Clyde, a few miles from Glasgow.
+
+159. =From Tweed to Spey.= The Tweed is in the extreme southern part,
+the Spey in the northern part, of Scotland.
+
+200. =Lady of the Bleeding Heart.= The minstrel calls Ellen so because a
+bleeding heart was the heraldic emblem of the Douglas family.
+
+206. =strathspey.= A dance, named from the district of Strath Spey, in
+the north of Scotland. It resembled the reel, but was slower.
+
+213. =Clan-Alpine's pride.= Clan Alpine was the collective name of the
+followers of Roderick Dhu, who figures later in the poem as Ellen's
+rejected suitor and the enemy of the mysterious "Knight of Snowdoun" who
+has just taken his departure from the island.
+
+216. =Lennox foray.= Lennox is the district south of Menteith, in the
+Lowlands. It was the scene of innumerable forays and "cattle-drives."
+
+221. =In Holy-Rood a knight he slew.= Holyrood is the royal castle at
+Edinburgh, where the court usually was held. It was deemed a heinous and
+desperate offense to commit an act of blood in the royal residence or
+its immediate neighborhood, since such an act was an indirect violation
+of the majesty of the king, and a breaking of "the king's peace." It was
+for this offense that Roderick Dhu was exiled, and compelled to live
+like an outlaw in his mountain fastness.
+
+227. =Who else dared give.= Notice how skilfully Scott manages to give
+us the relations of the chief characters of the poem to each other, and
+to show that Ellen's father, pursued by the hatred of James V, has been
+given the island shelter in Loch Katrine by Roderick Dhu who is about to
+make his appearance in the story.
+
+236. =Full soon may dispensation sought.= A papal dispensation was
+necessary, because Ellen and Roderick Dhu were cousins. See next note.
+
+249. =All that a mother could bestow.= Here again the poet takes the
+indirect way of making clear his point, namely that the matron
+introduced in the first canto is the mother of Roderick Dhu. The phrase
+"an orphan in the wild," is in apposition with the following phrase "her
+sister's child"--i.e., Ellen herself. From this it appears that Lady
+Margaret is Ellen's aunt, and that Roderick Dhu is, therefore, Ellen's
+cousin.
+
+260. =Maronnan's cell.= A chapel at the eastern extremity of Loch
+Lomond, dedicated to the rather obscure saint here named.
+
+270. =Bracklinn's thundering wave.= The reference is to a cascade made
+by a mountain torrent at the Bridge of Bracklinn, near the village of
+Callender in Menteith. Notice how Scott's numerous references to places
+in the region where the poem is laid tend gradually to give us an idea
+of the richness and diversity of the landscape.
+
+274. =claymore.= A large two-handed sword.
+
+305. =Thy father's battle-brand.= Some swords, especially those which
+had been magically forged, were held to possess the property of drawing
+themselves from their scabbard at the approach of their owner's deadly
+enemy. This is the first vague hint which Scott gives us as to the real
+identity of the "Knight of Snowdoun." To throw a further glamor of
+romance about the prophetical weapon, he tells us that it was given by
+fairies to an ancestor of its present owner, namely, to Archibald, third
+Duke of Angus, called Tine-man (Loseman) because he always lost his men
+in battle, and that this gift was made while Archibald was in league
+with Harry Hotspur.
+
+319. =Beltane game.= The sports of May Day.
+
+327. =canna.= Cotton grass.
+
+Stanza XVI. In this and the two following stanzas notice how skillfully
+description and narrative are woven together, and how the picture gains
+in detail and distinctness as the boats approach.
+
+334. =barges.= What change has occurred in the use of this word?
+
+335. =Glengyle ... Brianchoil.= Why does the poet introduce these proper
+names? Are they of any value as information?
+
+343. =tartans.= See note to I, xix, 363.
+
+395. =The chorus first could Allan know.= The chorus was the first part
+of the song which the harper, listening from the shore, could distinctly
+make out.
+
+408. =Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu.= The words _vich_ and _dhu_ are Gaelic,
+the first meaning "descendant of," the second "black or swarthy." King
+Alpine was the half-mythical ancestor from whom the clan of Alpine
+sprung. The line means, therefore, "Black Roderick, descendant of
+Alpine." Compare II, xii, 220, where Allan-bane calls the chieftain
+"Black Sir Roderick."
+
+410. =Blooming at Beltane.= See note to II, 319.
+
+416. =Breadalbane.= A large district in the western part of the county
+of Perth.
+
+419-426. =Glen Fruin, Bannochar, Glenn Luss, Ross-dhu, Leven-glen.=
+What, in simple language, should you say was the value of this array of
+obscure names in the song?
+
+431. =the rose-bud that graces yon islands.= To whom do the singers
+metaphorically refer?
+
+497. =Percy's Norman pennon.= Captured by the Douglas in the raid which
+led to the battle of Otterburn, as celebrated in the old ballad of Chevy
+Chase. (Sprague.)
+
+504. =The waned crescent.= This may be taken as referring to some
+victory over the Turkish armies in the East, or to the defeat of
+Scott's ancestor, Sir Walter Scott of Buccleugh, who was defeated in an
+attempt to set the young king free from the Douglas. The shield of Sir
+Walter bore a crescent moon.
+
+506. =Blantyre.= A priory on the banks of the Clyde near Bothwell
+castle, of which ruins still remain.
+
+574. =Glenfinlas.= A valley to the northeast of Loch Katrine, between
+Ben-An and Ben-Ledi.
+
+577. =royal ward.= Malcolm, as a minor, was still under the king's
+guardianship.
+
+583. =Strath-Endrick glen.= A valley on the southeast of Loch Lomond,
+presumably Malcolm's home.
+
+623-625. =The Meggat=, the =Yarrow=, and the =Ettrick= are successive
+tributaries, the waters of which eventually reach the Tweed. The Teviot
+is also a tributary of the Tweed. All five rivers are in the southern
+part of Scotland.
+
+678. =Links of Forth.= Banks of the river Forth. In general the word
+"links" means flat or undulating stretches of sandy soil, partially
+covered with grass or heather.
+
+692. =There are who have.= How does this differ from the prose idiom?
+
+801. =pity 'twere such cheek should feel the midnight air.= Was there
+anything in the Highland character and training which would make these
+words seem particularly cutting? Notice how the insult is deepened later
+by the assumption on Rhoderick Dhu's part that Malcolm is capable of
+treachery toward Douglas and the Clan of Alpine.
+
+809. =henchman.= This word is said to have been originally "haunch-man"
+because it was the duty of this retainer to stand beside his master's
+chair (at his haunches as it were) at the feast, in readiness to do his
+bidding or to defend him if attacked.
+
+831. =Fiery Cross.= The signal for the gathering of the clan to war. The
+preparation and carrying abroad of this cross is described in the next
+canto.
+
+
+CANTO THIRD
+
+39. =cushat dove.= Better known as the ringdove.
+
+63. =shivers.= "Slivers" is the more common word, but the verb "to
+shiver," meaning to break in pieces, keeps the original meaning.
+
+74. =Benharrow.= This mountain is near the north end of Loch Lomond.
+
+87. =strath.= A wide open valley, distinguished from a glen, which is
+narrow.
+
+104. =fieldfare.= A species of thrush.
+
+116. =virgin snood.= See note to I, 363.
+
+154. =River Demon.= Concerning this creature Scott gives the current
+observation: "The River Demon, or River-horse, is an evil spirit,
+delighting to forebode and witness calamity. He frequents most Highland
+lakes and rivers; and one of his most memorable exploits was performed
+upon the banks of Loch Vennachar: it consisted in the destruction of a
+bridal party with all its attendants."
+
+156. =noontide hag.= A gigantic emaciated female figure which, contrary
+to the general rule of ghostly creatures, appeared in the full blaze of
+noon.
+
+168. =Ben-Shie's boding scream.= The ben-shie or banshee was a tutelar
+spirit, supposed to forebode by midnight howlings the death of a member
+of a family to which it was attached. The superstition is still
+prevalent in Ireland.
+
+191. =Inch-Cailliach.= An island in Loch Lomond, used as a place of
+burial for several neighboring clans, of whom the descendants of King
+Alpine were the chief. The name means "Isle of Nuns," or "Isle of Old
+Women."
+
+Stanza IX. Notice the change in the rime system which marks the break
+from flowing narrative to solemn dramatic speech, and is continued
+through the stanza to increase the effect of solemnity.
+
+253. =Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave.= This cave and the pass of
+Beala-nam-bo were on the slopes of Ben Venue, a mountain near Loch
+Katrine. See notes to 622 and 664.
+
+286. =Lanrick mead.= This meadow is still pointed out to the traveler on
+the road from Loch Vennachar to the Trossachs.
+
+300. =dun deer's hide.= It was their shoes made of untanned deer's hide,
+with the hair outwards, which gave the Highlander's their nickname,
+"Red-shanks."
+
+349. =Duncraggan.= A village between Loch Achray and Loch Vennachar.
+
+369. =coronach.= Death-song.
+
+386. =correi.= Scott explains this as "the hollow side of the hill,
+where game usually lies."
+
+387. =cumber.= Trouble, perplexity.
+
+394. =Stumah.= The name of a dog, signifying "faithful."
+
+461. =chapel of St. Bride.= This chapel stood on the knoll of
+Strath-Ire, mentioned at the beginning of the stanza, halfway up the
+pass of Leny. Scott is singularly careful not to take liberties with the
+geography of the localities where his story is laid.
+
+468. =pole-ax.= An old weapon consisting of a broad ax-head fastened to
+a long pole, with a prick at the back.
+
+480. =Tombea's Mary.= Tombea and Armandave are names of places in the
+vicinity of Strath-Ire.
+
+546. =bracken.= Fern.
+
+570. =Balquidder.= The braes of Balquidder extended west from Loch Voil,
+to the northward of the scene of the poem. =midnight blaze.= The heather
+on the moorlands is often set on fire by the shepherds in order that new
+herbage may spring up.
+
+578. =Loch Voil=, etc. This and the following names are of poetic value
+in suggesting tangibly the rapid passage of the runner from place to
+place.
+
+622. =Coir-nan-Uriskin.= Scott says that this name, signifying "Den of
+the Shaggy Men," was derived from the mythical inhabitants of the place,
+creatures half man and half goat, resembling the satyrs of classical
+mythology.
+
+641. =still=, stillness. Can you instance other cases of the use of
+adjective for noun?
+
+656. =satyrs.= See note to 622.
+
+664. =Beal-nam-bo.= The name signifies "Pass of cattle." It is described
+as a "most magnificent glade, overhung with aged birch-trees, a little
+higher up the mountains than the Coir-nan-Uriskin."
+
+672. =A single page, to bear his sword.= The sword bearer, like the
+henchman and the bard, was a regular officer attached to the person of a
+Highland Chief. He was called in Gaelic "Gilliemore," or sword-man.
+
+
+CANTO FOURTH
+
+19. =Braes of Doune.= Doune is a village on the Teith, a few miles
+northwest of Stirling. The word "brae" means slope or declivity; the
+braes of Doune stretch away east and north from the village.
+
+36. =boune.= An obsolete word meaning "prepared."
+
+63. =Taghairm.= The word means "Augury of the Hide."
+
+68. =When swept our merrymen Gallangad.= The reference is to one of the
+forays or "cattledrives" which the Highland chiefs were fond of making
+at the expense of their neighbors. The situation of Gallangad is now
+unknown, but it was presumably a portion of the Lennox district.
+
+73. =kerns.= The kern or cateran of the Highlands was a light-armed
+infantryman, as opposed to the heavy-armed "gallowglass."
+
+78. =scatheless.= Without fear of injury, because of the weariness of
+the animal after the march.
+
+82. =boss.= The word means knob or protuberance, especially that in the
+center of a shield. What the boss of a cliff can be it is a little
+difficult to understand.
+
+98. =watching while the deer is broke.= The cutting up of the deer and
+allotting of the various portions was technically known as the
+"breaking" of the deer. A certain gristly portion was given, by long
+custom, to the birds, and came to be known as "the raven's bone."
+
+140. =A spy has sought my land.= Roderick refers, as appears later, to
+the "Knight of Snowdoun" of Canto I.
+
+150. =glaive=, sword.
+
+153. =sable pale.= An heraldic term, applied to a black perpendicular
+stripe in a coat of arms.
+
+174. =stance=, station, foundation.
+
+231. =Cambus-kenneth's fane.= The ruins of Cambus-kenneth Abbey are
+still to be seen on the banks of the Forth near Stirling.
+
+262. =mavis and merle=, thrush and blackbird.
+
+283. =darkling was the battle tried.= Scott first wrote "blindfold" in
+place of "darkling."
+
+285. =pall.= A rich cloth, from which mantles of noblemen were made.
+=Vair.= A fur much used for the garments of nobility in medieval times.
+
+298. =wonn'd=, an obsolete equivalent of "dwelt."
+
+306. =fairies' fatal green.= The elves or gnomes wore green, and were
+angered when any mortal ventured to wear that color. For this or some
+other reason green was held an unlucky color in many parts of Scotland.
+
+308. =thou wert christened man.= Urgan, as appears later, was a mortal,
+who had fallen under the spell of the elves and lived their life, but
+who still retained some of the privileges and immunities which belonged,
+according to medieval belief, to all persons who had been baptized into
+the Christian church.
+
+371. =Dunfermline.= An Abbey sixteen miles northwest of Edinburgh.
+
+385. =my former guide.= This is Red Murdoch, of whom Roderick Dhu
+speaks, see 144 ff.
+
+531. The =Allan= and the =Devan= are two streams which descend from the
+hills of Perthshire into the lowland plain.
+
+555. =from Maudlin's charge.= Maudlin, as a proper name, is a corruption
+of Magdalen. The curious development of meaning which has taken place in
+the word should be looked out in the dictionary.
+
+559. =peasant pitched a bar.= "Pitching the bar" was a feat of strength
+like the modern "putting the shot." It was usually indulged in by the
+peasantry at fairs and on the village greens.
+
+564. =that savage groom.= The mad woman refers to Red Murdoch, the
+guide.
+
+594. =a stag of ten.= With ten branches on his antlers.
+
+
+CANTO FIFTH
+
+46. =shingles=, declivities or "slides" of small broken stone.
+
+124. =While Albany with feeble hand.= After the death of James IV at
+Flodden Field the regency was held first by the mother of the young
+king, and then by the Duke of Albany. The latter was forced by the
+Estates to leave Scotland in 1624, and soon after the regency fell
+practically, though, not constitutionally, into the hands of the king's
+step-father, Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus. See introduction on the
+historical setting of the poem.
+
+198. =curlew.= A shore-bird, with a long curved bill.
+
+253. =jack.= A coat of mail made of leather or heavy padded cloth.
+
+301. =On Bochastle the moldering lines, etc.= East of Lake Vennachar, in
+the moor of Bochastle, are some traces of the Roman occupation, in the
+form of mounds and intrenchments.
+
+409. =mountain-cat.= "Catamount" is the common name in America.
+
+461. =palfrey.= A saddle-horse as distinguished from a war-horse.
+
+465. =weed=, garment. The word is now restricted to the phrase "widow's
+weeds."
+
+490-497. =Torry=, =Lendrick=, =Deanstown=, =Doune=, =Blair-Drummond=,
+=Ochtertyre=, and =Kier=, are all on the Teith, between Bochastle and
+Sterling.
+
+525. =by Saint Serle.= The necessities of rime compel the poet to choose
+a very obscure saint from the calendar.
+
+532. =postern gate=, the small rear gate of a castle, generally used by
+the servants only.
+
+584. =jennet.= A small Spanish horse, originally a cross between native
+and Arabian stock.
+
+611. =morricers=, morrice dancers. The morrice or morris was an old
+dance, imported into England from Spain. Believed to be a corruption of
+"Moorish."
+
+613. =butts=, the targets for archery practice.
+
+614. =Bold Robin Hood and all his band.= It is of course not meant that
+the renowned outlaw himself and his followers were there, but
+masqueraders representing these traditional characters. All the names
+that follow occur in one or other of the legends and ballads which
+gathered about Robin Hood's name.
+
+622. =the white=, i.e., the white center of the target.
+
+660. =Ladies Rock.= A hillock between the Castle and Grayfriar's church,
+from which the court ladies viewed the games.
+
+872. =lily lawn.= A conventional phrase in old ballad poetry, without
+any very definite meaning.
+
+
+CANTO SIXTH
+
+42. =harness=, armor and other war gear.
+
+60. =halberd=, a weapon consisting of a battle-ax and pike at the end of
+a long staff. =brand=, a poetical word for sword.
+
+92. =black-jack=, a large drinking can of tarred or waxed leather.
+
+95. =Drink upsees out.= "Upsees" is a corruption of a Dutch Bacchanalian
+interjection.
+
+103. =cure.= Parish or charge. =placket.= Petticoat.
+
+104. =lurch=, swindle, leave in difficulty.
+
+306. =prore=, poetical form of "prow."
+
+377. =erne=, eagle.
+
+Stanza XVII. Notice how both rime and rhythm mirror the growing
+excitement of the conflict.
+
+452. =As their Tinchel cows the game.= The "Tinchel" was a circle of
+hunters, surrounding a herd of deer and gradually closing in on them.
+
+488. =linn=, the word here means waterfall.
+
+586. =Bothwell's lord=, Douglas. See note to II, xiii, 141.
+
+591. =How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy.= "Brooked" is not used in its
+strong sense of "endured," but in the weaker one of "received"; we
+should say colloquially "how he took it."
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX
+
+(Adapted, and enlarged, from the _Manual for the Study of English
+Classics_, by George L. Marsh)
+
+
+HELPS TO STUDY
+
+
+LIFE OF SCOTT
+
+What prominent traits of Scott's character can be traced to his
+ancestors (pp. 9, 10)?
+
+How did he regard the members of his clan, especially the chief (pp. 19,
+20)?
+
+What characteristic is represented in his refusal to learn Latin and
+Greek at school?
+
+What was his own method of obtaining an education? In what did he become
+proficient (p. 12)?
+
+How did he regard his legal studies? How did they benefit him in his
+later work?
+
+How was he first interested in ballad-writing?
+
+Tell of the composition, publication, and popularity of his first poems
+(pp. 20 ff.).
+
+In what business venture did he become involved, and what was the final
+outcome? What defect in his character is it charged that his business
+relations brought to light (pp. 24, 25)?
+
+Tell of the composition of his novels. Why were they published
+incognito?
+
+What can you say of his last years and his struggle to pay off the debts
+incurred by his connection with Ballantyne?
+
+
+SCOTT AND THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT
+
+What is meant by the "Romantic Movement"? What four men were chiefly
+instrumental in bringing about this revolution in English poetry (p.
+40)?
+
+What was the influence of Scott's poetry on the age in comparison with
+that of his chief contemporaries? Give the reasons (p. 41).
+
+What were the distinguishing qualities of the literature of the
+eighteenth century? Illustrate these by examples from Pope or any other
+poet that you choose from that period, and put them into contrast with
+the qualities of the romantic poets. Does Scott's style differ greatly
+from that of the poets of the preceding century?
+
+
+THE LADY OF THE LAKE--CONSTRUCTION
+
+Is there anything that has taken place before the opening of the poem
+that has to be understood for a thorough appreciation of the story (p.
+46)? How are the previous fortunes of the Douglas family related (pp.
+96-98)?
+
+What purpose in the plot does the Minstrel serve throughout?
+
+What do you think of the opening?
+
+Does the chase serve merely to furnish an opportunity for the
+description?
+
+Is the action rapid or slow? How is it often retarded?
+
+For what are the songs introduced?
+
+Note the transition from stanza X to XI (p. 66); from XVI to XVII (p.
+71); from XXIV to XXV (p. 144); and many others.
+
+How many cases of concealed identity are there in the poem? Does this
+turning of the plot on mistaken identity make it seem unreal? Show in
+each case where the identity is exposed and where hints have been given
+beforehand of the real identity.
+
+Is there any intimation of the identity of Ellen and her father in lines
+565-7, page 81; lines 728-39, page 87?
+
+What is the purpose of Fitz-James's dream (p. 86)?
+
+What is the first hint of Ellen's love story and the name of her lover
+(pp. 74, 92)?
+
+When is Roderick Dhu first mentioned (p. 96)? In what light?
+
+Where are the relations of Ellen with Roderick and with Malcolm further
+discussed (p. 98)?
+
+To whom is the reference in lines 732-34, page 116?
+
+What action does the struggle between Roderick and Malcolm motive?
+
+How does Canto Third advance the plot? What is its poetical value (p.
+56)?
+
+What purpose does Brian serve?
+
+Does the prophecy (p. 157) heighten the dramatic effect of the following
+scene (see p. 196)?
+
+For what are lines 138-47, page 157, a preparation (p. 168)?
+
+What is the purpose of the Ballad of Alice Brand (pp. 162 ff.)?
+
+What other results of Scott's early interest in ballad literature can
+you point out in _The Lady of the Lake_?
+
+Does the warning of James by the song of mad Blanche seem improbable?
+
+What is the purpose of the long speeches between James and Roderick in
+the dramatic scene following Roderick's calling of his men?
+
+Does the combat between James and Roderick (pp. 198, 199) seem a real
+fight?
+
+Why was Roderick preserved to die in the castle at Stirling?
+
+Are lines 519-30, page 203, an artistic preparation for the following
+scene?
+
+How do the games in the Castle park hasten the plot to its end?
+
+How is the fight between Clan-Alpine and the Earl of Mar described?
+
+How much of the action takes place outside the poem and is related?
+
+Note the use of the supernatural (p. 239). Does it seem impressive?
+
+Is the conclusion sustained and dramatic?
+
+
+DESCRIPTION
+
+Are the nature descriptions given for scenic effect, or do they serve as
+a background and setting for the story?
+
+Does Scott employ incidents of plot for the sake of dragging in
+descriptions?
+
+Which is the best in the poem: nature description, plot construction,
+character, description, or the portrayal of old life and customs?
+
+Is the descriptive language suggestive?
+
+Are the landscape scenes given minutely, or are they drawn broadly, with
+a free hand?
+
+Does Scott keep closely to the geography of the region of his tale (see
+map, p. 6, and note 461, p. 259)?
+
+Perry Pictures 912-17 (from Landseer's paintings of deer) and 1511 (Ben
+Lomond) may be used in illustration of _The Lady of the Lake_.
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+Are the characters distinctly drawn--do they seem real people of flesh
+and blood?
+
+How is Ellen's character displayed?
+
+Do you feel any sympathy for Roderick Dhu? Does your impression of his
+character improve (pp. 96, 98, 99, 182, 188, 195, and 241)?
+
+Was Douglas an historical character?
+
+Is the character of James Fitz-James true to James V of Scotland?
+
+Is Allan-bane representative of the place in the ancient Scottish clan
+which the minstrel had?
+
+
+THEME SUBJECTS
+
+1. Scott's boyhood (with emphasis on the cultivation of characteristics
+displayed in his poems; pp. 10-12).
+
+2. Scott as a landed proprietor (pp. 27-33). This may well take the form
+of an imaginary visit to Abbotsford.
+
+3. Scott in business (pp. 23-25, 34-36). Compare his struggle against
+debt with Mark Twain's.
+
+4. The historical setting of _The Lady of the Lake_ (pp. 46-48).
+
+5. A visit to the scene of _The Lady of the Lake_.
+
+6. Summary of the action; as a whole, or by parts (cantos or other
+logical divisions).
+
+7. Character sketches of Fitz-James, Roderick Dhu, Ellen, Malcolm,
+Douglas.
+
+8. Highland customs reflected in the poem (pp. 129 ff., 253, 254, etc.).
+
+9. The use of the Minstrel in the poem.
+
+10. The interpolated lyrics--what purposes do they, respectively, serve?
+
+11. Descriptions of scenes resembling, in one way or another, attractive
+scenes depicted in _The Lady of the Lake_.
+
+12. Soldier life in Stirling Castle (pp. 219 ff.).
+
+13. Contrast feudal warfare (especially as shown on pp. 81, 182) with
+modern warfare.
+
+14. Show, by selected passages, Scott's veneration for the ideals of
+feudalism (pp. 81, 228, etc.).
+
+15. Rewrite the scene of the combat between Roderick and Fitz-James (pp.
+198-200) in the prose style of Scott as in the tournament scene in
+_Ivanhoe_.
+
+
+SELECTIONS FOR CLASS READING
+
+1. The chase (pp. 60-65).
+
+2. The Trossachs (pp. 66-68).
+
+3. Ellen (pp. 72-74).
+
+4. Ellen's song (pp. 83-85).
+
+5. Roderick's arrival (pp. 100-105).
+
+6. Roderick's proposal (pp. 113-118).
+
+7. The consecration of the bloody cross (pp. 128-132).
+
+8. The summoning of the clan (pp. 132-135).
+
+9. The Coronach (pp. 136, 137).
+
+10. Roderick overhears Ellen's song (pp. 148-149).
+
+11. The ballad of Alice Brand (pp. 162-167).
+
+12. Fitz-James and the mad woman (pp. 172-178).
+
+13. The hospitality of a Highlander (pp. 180-183).
+
+14. The hidden army (pp. 191-192).
+
+15. The combat (pp. 195-200).
+
+16. Douglas at the games (pp. 207-211).
+
+17. The speech of Douglas (pp. 212, 213).
+
+18. The Battle of Beal' an Duine (pp. 232-240).
+
+19. Fitz-James reveals himself to Ellen (pp. 244-249).
+
+
+CLASSES OF POETRY
+
+It is important for the student of poetry to know the principal classes
+into which poems are divided. The following brief explanations do not
+pretend to be exhaustive, but they should be of practical aid. It must
+be remembered that a long poem is sometimes not very definitely of any
+one class, but combines characteristics of different classes.
+
+_Narrative_ poetry, like narrative prose, aims primarily to tell a
+story.
+
+The _epic_ is the most pretentious kind of narrative poetry; it tells in
+serious verse of the great deeds of a popular hero. The _Iliad_, the
+_Aeneid_, _Beowulf_, _Paradise Lost_ are important epics. The _Idylls of
+the King_ is in the main an epic poem.
+
+The _metrical romance_ is a rather long story in verse, of a less
+exalted and heroic character than the true epic. Scott's _Lady of the
+Lake_ is a familiar example.
+
+The _verse tale_ is shorter and likely to be less dignified and serious
+than the metrical romance. The stories in Chaucer's _Canterbury Tales_,
+or Burns's _Tam O'Shanter_, may serve as examples.
+
+The _ballad_ is a narrative poem, usually rather short and in such form
+as to be sung. It is distinguished from a song by the fact that it tells
+a story. _Popular_ or _folk_ ballads are ancient and of unknown
+authorship--handed down by word of mouth and varied by the transmitters.
+_Artistic_ ballads are imitations, by known poets, of traditional
+ballads.
+
+_Descriptive_ and _reflective_ poems have characteristics sufficiently
+indicated by the adjectives in italics.
+
+The _pastoral_ is a particular kind of descriptive and narrative poem in
+which the scene is laid in the country.
+
+The _idyll_ is, according to the etymology of its name, a "little
+picture." Tennyson's _Idylls of the King_ are rather more epic than
+idyllic in the strict sense of the term. The terms _idyll_ and
+_pastoral_ are not definitely discriminated.
+
+_Lyric_ poetry is poetry expressing personal feeling or emotion and in
+tuneful form. _Songs_ are the simplest examples of lyric poetry; formal
+_odes_, such as Wordsworth's on "Immortality," the most elaborate. A
+lyric does not primarily tell a story, but it may imply one or refer to
+one.
+
+The _elegy_ is a reflective lyric prompted by the death of some one.
+Tennyson's _In Memoriam_ is a collection of elegiac lyrics.
+
+A _hymn_ is a religious lyric.
+
+_Dramatic_ poetry presents human life in speech and action.
+
+A _tragedy_ is a serious drama which presents its hero in a losing
+struggle ending in his death.
+
+A _comedy_ does not end in death, and is usually cheerful and humorous.
+
+The _dramatic monologue_ is a poem in which a dramatic situation is
+presented, or perhaps a story is told, by one speaker.
+
+_Satire_ in verse aims to correct abuses, to ridicule persons, etc.
+
+_Didactic_ poetry has the purpose of teaching.
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+The following errors have been corrected in this text:
+
+Page 41: added period after "Southey in 1774"
+
+Page 89: put blank line between lines 18 and 19 of Canto Second
+
+Page 98: moved line number 255 of Canto Second to correct position (in
+the original the line number was at line 254)
+
+Page 165: changed "by their monarch's si" to "... side"
+
+Page 196: changed "by" to "my" in "When foeman bade me draw my blade;"
+
+Page 212: changed "shreik" to "shriek" in "the women shriek;"
+
+Page 253: changed comma to period after "a harp unseen"
+
+Page 256: changed "364" to "363" in note on line 343 of Canto Second
+
+Page 258: changed "364" to "363" in note on line 116 of Canto Third
+
+Page 260: added period after "150" in note on line 150 of Canto Fourth
+
+Page 262: added period after "from the calendar"
+
+Page 262: changed "Robinhood" to "Robin Hood" in "Bold Robin Hood and
+all his band."
+
+Page 268: changed "p. 5" to "p. 6" in question "Does Scott keep ..."]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lady of the Lake, by Sir Walter Scott
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