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diff --git a/28287-h/28287-h.htm b/28287-h/28287-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e26295 --- /dev/null +++ b/28287-h/28287-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10362 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Lady of the Lake, by Sir Walter Scott. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + body {margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both;} + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em;} + + p.title {font-size: 120%; + text-align:center; + font-weight:normal; + text-indent:0; + margin-top:1em; + margin-bottom:1em;} + + small { font-size:70%;} + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + + table { margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto;} + + .tdl { text-align: left;} + .tdr { text-align: right;} + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + text-indent: 0; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + font-style: normal; + font-size: 13px; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 30%; + text-indent: 0; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + font-style: normal; + font-size: 80%; + } /* poetry line numbers */ + + .note {position: absolute; + top: auto; + right: 26%; + text-indent: 0; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + font-style: normal; + font-size: 80%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + + .blockquote { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .italic {font-style: italic;} + + .bold {font-weight: bold;} + + + /* Images */ + .figcenter {margin: auto; + text-align: center;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + /* Footnotes */ + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + + /* Poetry */ + .poem {margin-left:30%; margin-right:25%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + + .tn {background-color: #eeeeee; + padding: .5em; + border: 1px solid black; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<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 "THE LADY OF THE LAKE"" /> +<span class="caption">THE SCENE OF "THE LADY OF THE LAKE"</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!"—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—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—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—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<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—"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—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—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, <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—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—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—complete +strangers—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—and they were legion—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—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—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—</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>—the cheers were redoubled—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,—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—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 £40,000. +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—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.</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—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—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<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—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—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<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—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—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—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—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—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—<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—<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—<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—<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—beshrew yon nimble deer—<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—<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—<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,—<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—<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—<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—<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—<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—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—<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—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—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—(<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—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—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—<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—<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—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—<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—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thy Malcolm! vain and selfish maid!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said—<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—<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—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—"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—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,"—she stooped, and, looking round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plucked a blue hare-bell from the ground—<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">—Light was her accent, yet she sighed—<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—<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—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—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—<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—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That pleading look, what can it say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what I own?—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—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—and children know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instinctive taught, the friend and foe—<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—<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?—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">—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!—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—<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—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!—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"—<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—nor time affords,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor my plain temper, glozing words.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kinsman and father—if such name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine honored mother—Ellen—why,<br /></span> +<span class="linenum">610</span> +<span class="i0">My cousin, turn away thine eye?—<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—<br /></span> +<span class="linenum">615</span> +<span class="i0">List all—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">—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—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—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—so mute were all—<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—<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—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!"—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.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brave Douglas—lovely Ellen—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.—<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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such was the Douglas's command—<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—<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—<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—<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—<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—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—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—<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—<a href="#note3_286" name="line3_286" id="line3_286" class="note">note</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instant the time—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—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">—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!—<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—<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—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Alas!" she sobbed—"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—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—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—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!—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—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">—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—<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—<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—<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—'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—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!—What, Malise?—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.—<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—<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—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?"—<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="linenum">55</span> +<span class="i0">"'Tis well advised—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—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—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—<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—<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—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—<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—<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">—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—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lover for maid beloved! But why—<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—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">—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?—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—dear lady trust!<br /></span> +<span class="linenum">190</span> +<span class="i0">With joy return—he will—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—for Roderick too—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me be just—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—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!—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—<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—<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—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—(<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—(<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—(<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—<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—she crossed him twice—<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—<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!—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">—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"—<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!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One way remains—I'll tell him all—<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—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?—then hear the truth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fitz-James, there is a noble youth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If yet he is!—exposed for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mine to dread extremity—<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—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This signet shall secure thy way—<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—kissed her hand—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Murdoch! was that a signal cry?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stammered forth—"I shout to scare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon raven from his dainty fare."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looked—he knew the raven's prey,<br /></span> +<span class="linenum">495</span> +<span class="i0">His own brave steed—"Ah! gallant gray!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee—for me, perchance—'twere well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We ne'er had seen the Trossachs' dell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Murdoch, move first—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sung!—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—<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!"—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!"—<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—<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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forfeit death—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!—it may not be—<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—<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?—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My brain would turn!—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—O God! more bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let reason beam her parting light!—<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!—<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">—But hark! what means yon faint halloo?<br /></span> +<span class="linenum">690</span> +<span class="i0">The chase is up—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark, to the whistle and the shout!—<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—<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!—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—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!—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—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—<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—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—<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—<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;—<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—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!—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!—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—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—<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—<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—<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—<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—"How say'st thou now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, Saxon—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—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—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—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—nay, that I need not say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But—doubt not aught from mine array.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art my guest—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—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—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—<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—to fire thy flagging zeal—<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—<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—<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?—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!—<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—doubt not—which thou wilt—<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!"—<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">—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!—<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—<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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wonder viewed the bloody spot—<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—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—<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—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—<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!—but that is by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now my business is—to die.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—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—<br /></span> +<span class="linenum">555</span> +<span class="i0">The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prepare—for Douglas seeks his doom!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—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—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—<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—<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—<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—<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">—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—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—<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—"Back!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back, on your lives, ye menial pack!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beware the Douglas.—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!"—for tumult rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows—<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—<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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What from our cousin, John of Mar?"—<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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most sure for evil to the throne—<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—<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—"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—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!—<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—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—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—"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—if Rose be living now"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wiped his iron eye and brow—<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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Tullibardine's house he sprung—<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—she paused and sighed—<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—"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—'twas all she could—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—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A doleful tribute!—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—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—a word—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes clansmen vassals to a lord;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet kind my noble landlord's part—<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—'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—<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—<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?—of my clan?—<br /></span> +<span class="linenum">320</span> +<span class="i0">My mother?—Douglas?—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—speak boldly—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—who fled?—Old man, be brief—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some might—for they had lost their Chief.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who basely live?—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—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!—and then—for well thou canst—<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—<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—<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">—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—<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—<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.—<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.—<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—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—'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—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—he nears the isle—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—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!—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">—But here the lay made sudden stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand!—<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—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—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">—For thee—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—<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"—"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!—<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—<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—<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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She showed the ring—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—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—<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—"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">—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—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—<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!"—<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—<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—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!—<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!"—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—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now, 'tis silent all!—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—Loch Katrine, Loch Achray, and Loch Vennachar—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"—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>–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>–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>–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—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>–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>–7, page <a href="#Page_81">81</a>; lines <a href="#line1_728">728</a>–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>–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>–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>–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 912–17 (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—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>–12).</p> + +<p>2. Scott as a landed proprietor (pp. <a href="#Page_27">27</a>–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>–25, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>–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>–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—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>–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>–65).</p> + +<p>2. The Trossachs (pp. <a href="#Page_66">66</a>–68).</p> + +<p>3. Ellen (pp. <a href="#Page_72">72</a>–74).</p> + +<p>4. Ellen's song (pp. <a href="#Page_83">83</a>–85).</p> + +<p>5. Roderick's arrival (pp. <a href="#Page_100">100</a>–105).</p> + +<p>6. Roderick's proposal (pp. <a href="#Page_113">113</a>–118).</p> + +<p>7. The consecration of the bloody cross (pp. <a href="#Page_128">128</a>–132).</p> + +<p>8. The summoning of the clan (pp. <a href="#Page_132">132</a>–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>–149).</p> + +<p>11. The ballad of Alice Brand (pp. <a href="#Page_162">162</a>–167).</p> + +<p>12. Fitz-James and the mad woman (pp. <a href="#Page_172">172</a>–178).</p> + +<p>13. The hospitality of a Highlander (pp. <a href="#Page_180">180</a>–183).</p> + +<p>14. The hidden army (pp. <a href="#Page_191">191</a>–192).</p> + +<p>15. The combat (pp. <a href="#Page_195">195</a>–200).</p> + +<p>16. Douglas at the games (pp. <a href="#Page_207">207</a>–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>–240).</p> + +<p>19. Fitz-James reveals himself to Ellen (pp. <a href="#Page_244">244</a>–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—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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY OF THE LAKE *** + +***** This file should be named 28287-h.htm or 28287-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/2/8/28287/ + +Produced by Brian Sogard, storm and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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