"That bull was slain; his reeking hide
80 They stretched the cataract beside,
Whose waters their wild tumult toss
Adown the black and craggy bossnote
Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge
Tradition calls the Hero's Targe.
85 Couched on a shelf beneath its brink,
Close where the thundering torrents sink,
Rocking beneath their headlong sway,
And drizzled by the ceaseless spray,
Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream,
90 The wizard waits prophetic dream.
Nor distant rests the Chief—but hush!
See, gliding slow through mist and bush,
The hermit gains yon rock, and stands
To gaze upon our slumbering bands.
95 Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost,
That hovers o'er a slaughtered host?
Or raven on the blasted oak,
That, watching while the deer is broke,note
His morsel claims with sullen croak?"
80 They stretched the cataract beside,
Whose waters their wild tumult toss
Adown the black and craggy bossnote
Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge
Tradition calls the Hero's Targe.
85 Couched on a shelf beneath its brink,
Close where the thundering torrents sink,
Rocking beneath their headlong sway,
And drizzled by the ceaseless spray,
Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream,
90 The wizard waits prophetic dream.
Nor distant rests the Chief—but hush!
See, gliding slow through mist and bush,
The hermit gains yon rock, and stands
To gaze upon our slumbering bands.
95 Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost,
That hovers o'er a slaughtered host?
Or raven on the blasted oak,
That, watching while the deer is broke,note
His morsel claims with sullen croak?"
MALISE
100
"Peace! peace! to other than to me
Thy words were evil augury;
But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade
Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid,
Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell,
105 Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell.
The Chieftain joins him, see—and now,
Together they descend the brow."
Thy words were evil augury;
But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade
Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid,
Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell,
105 Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell.
The Chieftain joins him, see—and now,
Together they descend the brow."
VI
And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord
The Hermit Monk held solemn word:
110 "Roderick! it is a fearful strife,
For man endowed with mortal life,
Whose shroud of sentient clay can still
Feel feverish pang and fainting chill,
Whose eye can stare in stony trance,
115 Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance—
'Tis hard for such to view, unfurled,
The curtain of the future world.
Yet, witness every quaking limb,
My sunken pulse, my eyeballs dim,
120 My soul with harrowing anguish torn—
This for my Chieftain have I borne!
The shapes that sought my fearful couch,
A human tongue may ne'er avouch;
No mortal man—save he, who, bred
125 Between the living and the dead,
Is gifted beyond nature's law—
Had e'er survived to say he saw.
At length the fatal answer came,
In characters of living flame!
130 Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll,
But borne and branded on my soul:
Which spills the foremost foeman's life,
That party conquers in the strife."
The Hermit Monk held solemn word:
110 "Roderick! it is a fearful strife,
For man endowed with mortal life,
Whose shroud of sentient clay can still
Feel feverish pang and fainting chill,
Whose eye can stare in stony trance,
115 Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance—
'Tis hard for such to view, unfurled,
The curtain of the future world.
Yet, witness every quaking limb,
My sunken pulse, my eyeballs dim,
120 My soul with harrowing anguish torn—
This for my Chieftain have I borne!
The shapes that sought my fearful couch,
A human tongue may ne'er avouch;
No mortal man—save he, who, bred
125 Between the living and the dead,
Is gifted beyond nature's law—
Had e'er survived to say he saw.
At length the fatal answer came,
In characters of living flame!
130 Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll,
But borne and branded on my soul:
Which spills the foremost foeman's life,
That party conquers in the strife."
VII
"Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care!
135 Good is thine augury, and fair.
Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood,
But first our broadswords tasted blood.
A surer victim still I know,
Self-offered to the auspicious blow:
140 A spy has sought my land this morn—note
No eve shall witness his return!
My followers guard each pass's mouth,
To east, to westward, and to south;
Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide,
145 Has charge to lead his steps aside,
Till in deep path or dingle brown,
He light on those shall bring him down.
—But see, who comes his news to show!
Malise! what tidings of the foe?"
135 Good is thine augury, and fair.
Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood,
But first our broadswords tasted blood.
A surer victim still I know,
Self-offered to the auspicious blow:
140 A spy has sought my land this morn—note
No eve shall witness his return!
My followers guard each pass's mouth,
To east, to westward, and to south;
Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide,
145 Has charge to lead his steps aside,
Till in deep path or dingle brown,
He light on those shall bring him down.
—But see, who comes his news to show!
Malise! what tidings of the foe?"
VIII
150
"At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaivenote
Two Barons proud their banners wave.
I saw the Moray's silver star,
And marked the sable pale of Mar."note
"By Alpine's soul, high tidings those!
155 I love to hear of worthy foes.
When move they on?" "Tomorrow's noon
Will see them here for battle boune."
"Then shall it see a meeting stern!
But, for the place—say, couldst thou learn
160 Nought of the friendly clans of Earn?
Strengthened by them, we well might bide
The battle on Benledi's side.
Thou couldst not! Well! Clan-Alpine's men
Shall man the Trossachs' shaggy glen;
165 Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight,
All in our maids' and matrons' sight,
Each for his hearth and household fire,
Father for child, and son for sire—
Lover for maid beloved! But why—
170 Is it the breeze affects mine eye?
Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear!
A messenger of doubt and fear?
No! sooner may the Saxon lance
Unfix Benledi from his stance,note
175 Than doubt or terror can pierce through
The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu!
'Tis stubborn as his trusty targe.
Each to his post—all know their charge."
The pibroch sounds, the bands advance,
180 The broadswords gleam, the banners dance,
Obedient to the Chieftain's glance.
—I turn me from the martial roar,
And seek Coir-Uriskin once more.
Two Barons proud their banners wave.
I saw the Moray's silver star,
And marked the sable pale of Mar."note
"By Alpine's soul, high tidings those!
155 I love to hear of worthy foes.
When move they on?" "Tomorrow's noon
Will see them here for battle boune."
"Then shall it see a meeting stern!
But, for the place—say, couldst thou learn
160 Nought of the friendly clans of Earn?
Strengthened by them, we well might bide
The battle on Benledi's side.
Thou couldst not! Well! Clan-Alpine's men
Shall man the Trossachs' shaggy glen;
165 Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight,
All in our maids' and matrons' sight,
Each for his hearth and household fire,
Father for child, and son for sire—
Lover for maid beloved! But why—
170 Is it the breeze affects mine eye?
Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear!
A messenger of doubt and fear?
No! sooner may the Saxon lance
Unfix Benledi from his stance,note
175 Than doubt or terror can pierce through
The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu!
'Tis stubborn as his trusty targe.
Each to his post—all know their charge."
The pibroch sounds, the bands advance,
180 The broadswords gleam, the banners dance,
Obedient to the Chieftain's glance.
—I turn me from the martial roar,
And seek Coir-Uriskin once more.
IX
Where is the Douglas?—he is gone;
185 And Ellen sits on the gray stone
Fast by the cave, and makes her moan;
While vainly Allan's words of cheer
Are poured on her unheeding ear:
"He will return—dear lady trust!
190 With joy return—he will—he must.
Well was it time to seek, afar,
Some refuge from impending war,
When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm
Are cowed by the approaching storm.
195 I saw their boats with many a light,
Floating the live-long yesternight,
Shifting like flashes darted forth
By the red streamers of the north;
I marked at morn how close they ride,
200 Thick moored by the lone islet's side,
Like wild-ducks couching in the fen,
When stoops the hawk upon the glen.
Since this rude race dare not abide
The peril on the mainland side,
205 Shall not thy noble father's care
Some safe retreat for thee prepare?"
185 And Ellen sits on the gray stone
Fast by the cave, and makes her moan;
While vainly Allan's words of cheer
Are poured on her unheeding ear:
"He will return—dear lady trust!
190 With joy return—he will—he must.
Well was it time to seek, afar,
Some refuge from impending war,
When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm
Are cowed by the approaching storm.
195 I saw their boats with many a light,
Floating the live-long yesternight,
Shifting like flashes darted forth
By the red streamers of the north;
I marked at morn how close they ride,
200 Thick moored by the lone islet's side,
Like wild-ducks couching in the fen,
When stoops the hawk upon the glen.
Since this rude race dare not abide
The peril on the mainland side,
205 Shall not thy noble father's care
Some safe retreat for thee prepare?"
X
ELLEN
"No, Allan, no! Pretext so kind
My wakeful terrors could not blind.
When in such tender tone, yet grave,
210 Douglas a parting blessing gave,
The tear that glistened in his eye
Drowned not his purpose fixed and high.
My soul, though feminine and weak,
Can image his; e'en as the lake,
215 Itself disturbed by slightest stroke,
Reflects the invulnerable rock.
He hears the report of battle rife,
He deems himself the cause of strife.
I saw him redden, when the theme
220 Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream
Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound,
Which I, thou saidst, about him wound.
Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught?
Oh, no! 'twas apprehensive thought
225 For the kind youth—for Roderick too—
Let me be just—that friend so true;
In danger both, and in our cause!
Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause.
Why else that solemn warning given,
230 'If not on earth, we meet in heaven!'
Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane,note
If eve return him not again,
Am I to hie, and make me known?
Alas! he goes to Scotland's throne,
235 Buys his friend's safety with his own;
He goes to do—what I had done,
Had Douglas' daughter been his son!"
My wakeful terrors could not blind.
When in such tender tone, yet grave,
210 Douglas a parting blessing gave,
The tear that glistened in his eye
Drowned not his purpose fixed and high.
My soul, though feminine and weak,
Can image his; e'en as the lake,
215 Itself disturbed by slightest stroke,
Reflects the invulnerable rock.
He hears the report of battle rife,
He deems himself the cause of strife.
I saw him redden, when the theme
220 Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream
Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound,
Which I, thou saidst, about him wound.
Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught?
Oh, no! 'twas apprehensive thought
225 For the kind youth—for Roderick too—
Let me be just—that friend so true;
In danger both, and in our cause!
Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause.
Why else that solemn warning given,
230 'If not on earth, we meet in heaven!'
Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane,note
If eve return him not again,
Am I to hie, and make me known?
Alas! he goes to Scotland's throne,
235 Buys his friend's safety with his own;
He goes to do—what I had done,
Had Douglas' daughter been his son!"
XI
"Nay, lovely Ellen!—dearest, nay!
If aught should his return delay,
240 He only named yon holy fane
As fitting place to meet again.
Be sure he's safe; and for the Graeme—
Heaven's blessing on his gallant name!
My visioned sight may yet prove true,
245 Nor bode of ill to him or you.
When did my gifted dream beguile?
Think of the stranger at the isle,
And think upon the harpings slow,
That presaged this approaching woe!
250 Sooth was my prophecy of fear;
Believe it when it augurs cheer.
Would we had left this dismal spot!
Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot.
Of such a wondrous tale I know—
255 Dear lady, change that look of woe,
My harp was wont thy grief to cheer."
If aught should his return delay,
240 He only named yon holy fane
As fitting place to meet again.
Be sure he's safe; and for the Graeme—
Heaven's blessing on his gallant name!
My visioned sight may yet prove true,
245 Nor bode of ill to him or you.
When did my gifted dream beguile?
Think of the stranger at the isle,
And think upon the harpings slow,
That presaged this approaching woe!
250 Sooth was my prophecy of fear;
Believe it when it augurs cheer.
Would we had left this dismal spot!
Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot.
Of such a wondrous tale I know—
255 Dear lady, change that look of woe,
My harp was wont thy grief to cheer."
ELLEN
"Well, be it as thou wilt; I hear,
But cannot stop the bursting tear."
The minstrel tried his simple art,
260 But distant far was Ellen's heart.
But cannot stop the bursting tear."
The minstrel tried his simple art,
260 But distant far was Ellen's heart.
XII
BALLAD—ALICE BRAND
Merry it is in the good greenwood,
When the mavis and merle are singing,note
When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,
And the hunter's horn is ringing.
When the mavis and merle are singing,note
When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,
And the hunter's horn is ringing.
265
"O Alice Brand, my native land
Is lost for love of you;
And we must hold by wood and wold,
As outlaws wont to do.
Is lost for love of you;
And we must hold by wood and wold,
As outlaws wont to do.
"O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright,
270 And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue,
That on the night of our luckless flight,
Thy brother bold I slew.
270 And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue,
That on the night of our luckless flight,
Thy brother bold I slew.
"Now must I teach to hew the beech
The hand that held the glaive,
275 For leaves to spread our lowly bed,
And stakes to fence our cave.
The hand that held the glaive,
275 For leaves to spread our lowly bed,
And stakes to fence our cave.
"And for vest of pall, thy fingers small,
That wont on harp to stray,
A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer,
280 To keep the cold away."
That wont on harp to stray,
A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer,
280 To keep the cold away."
"O Richard! if my brother died,
'Twas but a fatal chance;
For darkling was the battle tried,note
And fortune sped the lance.
'Twas but a fatal chance;
For darkling was the battle tried,note
And fortune sped the lance.
285
"If pall and vair no more I wear,note
Nor thou the crimson sheen,
As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray,
As gay the forest-green.
Nor thou the crimson sheen,
As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray,
As gay the forest-green.
"And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
290 And lost thy native land,
Still Alice has her own Richard,
And he his Alice Brand."
290 And lost thy native land,
Still Alice has her own Richard,
And he his Alice Brand."
XIII
BALLAD—(Continued)
'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,
So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
295 On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side,
Lord Richard's ax is ringing.
So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
295 On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side,
Lord Richard's ax is ringing.
Up spoke the moody Elfin King,
Who wonned within the hill,note
Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,
300 His voice was ghostly shrill.
Who wonned within the hill,note
Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,
300 His voice was ghostly shrill.
"Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak,
Our moonlight circle's screen?
Or who comes here to chase the deer,
Beloved of our Elfin Queen?
305 Or who may dare on wold to wear
The fairies' fatal green?note
Our moonlight circle's screen?
Or who comes here to chase the deer,
Beloved of our Elfin Queen?
305 Or who may dare on wold to wear
The fairies' fatal green?note
"Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,
For thou wert christened man;note
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
310 For muttered word or ban.
For thou wert christened man;note
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
310 For muttered word or ban.
"Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,
The curse of the sleepless eye;
Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
Nor yet find leave to die."
The curse of the sleepless eye;
Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
Nor yet find leave to die."
XIV
BALLAD—(Continued)
315
'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood,
Though the birds have stilled their singing;
The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
And Richard is fagots bringing.
Though the birds have stilled their singing;
The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
And Richard is fagots bringing.
Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
320 Before Lord Richard stands,
And, as he crossed and blessed himself,
"I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf,
"That is made with bloody hands."
320 Before Lord Richard stands,
And, as he crossed and blessed himself,
"I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf,
"That is made with bloody hands."
But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,
325 That woman void of fear,
"And if there's blood upon his hand,
'Tis but the blood of deer."
325 That woman void of fear,
"And if there's blood upon his hand,
'Tis but the blood of deer."
"Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!
It cleaves unto his hand,
330 The stain of thine own kindly blood,
The blood of Ethert Brand."
It cleaves unto his hand,
330 The stain of thine own kindly blood,
The blood of Ethert Brand."
Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,
And made the holy sign,
"And if there's blood on Richard's hand,
335 A spotless hand is mine.
And made the holy sign,
"And if there's blood on Richard's hand,
335 A spotless hand is mine.
"And I conjure thee, Demon elf,
By Him whom Demons fear,
To show us whence thou art thyself,
And what thine errand here?"
By Him whom Demons fear,
To show us whence thou art thyself,
And what thine errand here?"
XV
BALLAD—(Continued)
340
"'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairyland
When fairy birds are singing,
When the court doth ride by their monarch's side
With bit and bridle ringing;
When fairy birds are singing,
When the court doth ride by their monarch's side
With bit and bridle ringing;
"And gaily shines the Fairyland—
345 But all is glistening show,
Like the idle gleam that December's beam
Can dart on ice and snow.
345 But all is glistening show,
Like the idle gleam that December's beam
Can dart on ice and snow.
"And fading, like that varied gleam,
Is our inconstant shape,
350 Who now like knight and lady seem,
And now like dwarf and ape.
Is our inconstant shape,
350 Who now like knight and lady seem,
And now like dwarf and ape.
"It was between the night and day,
When the Fairy King has power,
That I sunk down in a sinful fray,
355 And, 'twixt life and death, was snatched away
To the joyless Elfin bower.
When the Fairy King has power,
That I sunk down in a sinful fray,
355 And, 'twixt life and death, was snatched away
To the joyless Elfin bower.
"But wist I of a woman bold,
Who thrice my brow durst sign,
I might regain my mortal mold,
360 As fair a form as thine."
Who thrice my brow durst sign,
I might regain my mortal mold,
360 As fair a form as thine."
She crossed him once—she crossed him twice—
That lady was so brave;
The fouler grew his goblin hue,
The darker grew the cave.
That lady was so brave;
The fouler grew his goblin hue,
The darker grew the cave.
365
She crossed him thrice, that lady bold;
He rose beneath her hand
The fairest knight on Scottish mold,
Her brother, Ethert Brand!
He rose beneath her hand
The fairest knight on Scottish mold,
Her brother, Ethert Brand!
Merry it is in good greenwood,
370 When the mavis and merle are singing,
But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray,note
When all the bells were ringing.
370 When the mavis and merle are singing,
But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray,note
When all the bells were ringing.
XVI
Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed,
A stranger climbed the steepy glade;
375 His martial step, his stately mien,
His hunting suit of Lincoln green,
His eagle glance, remembrance claims—
'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz-James.
Ellen beheld as in a dream,
380 Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream
"Oh, stranger! in such hour of fear,
What evil hap has brought thee here?"
"An evil hap how can it be
That bids me look again on thee?
385 By promise bound, my former guidenote
Met me betimes this morning tide,
And marshaled, over bank and bourne,
The happy path of my return."
"The happy path!—what! said he nought
390 Of war, of battle to be fought,
Of guarded pass?" "No, by my faith!
Nor saw I ought could augur scathe."
"O haste thee, Allan, to the kern,
—Yonder his tartans I discern;
395 Learn thou his purpose, and conjure
That he will guide the stranger sure!
What prompted thee, unhappy man?
The meanest serf in Roderick's clan
Had not been bribed by love or fear,
400 Unknown to him to guide thee here."
A stranger climbed the steepy glade;
375 His martial step, his stately mien,
His hunting suit of Lincoln green,
His eagle glance, remembrance claims—
'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz-James.
Ellen beheld as in a dream,
380 Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream
"Oh, stranger! in such hour of fear,
What evil hap has brought thee here?"
"An evil hap how can it be
That bids me look again on thee?
385 By promise bound, my former guidenote
Met me betimes this morning tide,
And marshaled, over bank and bourne,
The happy path of my return."
"The happy path!—what! said he nought
390 Of war, of battle to be fought,
Of guarded pass?" "No, by my faith!
Nor saw I ought could augur scathe."
"O haste thee, Allan, to the kern,
—Yonder his tartans I discern;
395 Learn thou his purpose, and conjure
That he will guide the stranger sure!
What prompted thee, unhappy man?
The meanest serf in Roderick's clan
Had not been bribed by love or fear,
400 Unknown to him to guide thee here."
XVII
"Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be
Since it is worthy care from thee;
Yet life I hold but idle breath,
When love or honor's weighed with death.
405 Then let me profit by my chance,
And speak my purpose bold at once.
I come to bear thee from a wild,
Where ne'er before such blossom smiled;
By this soft hand to lead thee far
410 From frantic scenes of feud and war.
Near Bochastle my horses wait;
They bear us soon to Stirling gate.
I'll place thee in a lovely bower,
I'll guard thee like a tender flower"—
415 "O hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art
To say I do not read thy heart;
Too much, before, my selfish ear
Was idly soothed my praise to hear.
That fatal bait hath lured thee back,
420 In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track;
And how, O how, can I atone
The wreck my vanity brought on!—
One way remains—I'll tell him all—
Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall!
425 Thou, whose light folly bears the blame,
Buy thine own pardon with thy shame!
But first—my father is a man
Outlawed and exiled, under ban;
The price of blood is on his head,
430 With me 'twere infamy to wed.
Still wouldst thou speak?—then hear the truth!
Fitz-James, there is a noble youth—
If yet he is!—exposed for me
And mine to dread extremity—
435 Thou hast the secret of my heart;
Forgive, be generous, and depart!"
Since it is worthy care from thee;
Yet life I hold but idle breath,
When love or honor's weighed with death.
405 Then let me profit by my chance,
And speak my purpose bold at once.
I come to bear thee from a wild,
Where ne'er before such blossom smiled;
By this soft hand to lead thee far
410 From frantic scenes of feud and war.
Near Bochastle my horses wait;
They bear us soon to Stirling gate.
I'll place thee in a lovely bower,
I'll guard thee like a tender flower"—
415 "O hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art
To say I do not read thy heart;
Too much, before, my selfish ear
Was idly soothed my praise to hear.
That fatal bait hath lured thee back,
420 In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track;
And how, O how, can I atone
The wreck my vanity brought on!—
One way remains—I'll tell him all—
Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall!
425 Thou, whose light folly bears the blame,
Buy thine own pardon with thy shame!
But first—my father is a man
Outlawed and exiled, under ban;
The price of blood is on his head,
430 With me 'twere infamy to wed.
Still wouldst thou speak?—then hear the truth!
Fitz-James, there is a noble youth—
If yet he is!—exposed for me
And mine to dread extremity—
435 Thou hast the secret of my heart;
Forgive, be generous, and depart!"
XVIII
Fitz-James knew every wily train
A lady's fickle heart to gain,
But here he knew and felt them vain.
440 There shot no glance from Ellen's eye,
To give her steadfast speech the lie;
In maiden confidence she stood.
Though mantled in her cheek the blood,
And told her love with such a sigh
445 Of deep and hopeless agony,
As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom,
And she sat sorrowing on his tomb.
Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye,
But not with hope fled sympathy.
450 He proffered to attend her side,
As brother would a sister guide.
"O little know'st thou Roderick's heart!
Safer for both we go apart.
O haste thee, and from Allan learn,
455 If thou may'st trust yon wily kern."
With hand upon his forehead laid,
The conflict of his mind to shade,
A parting step or two he made;
Then, as some thought had crossed his brain,
460 He paused, and turned, and came again.
A lady's fickle heart to gain,
But here he knew and felt them vain.
440 There shot no glance from Ellen's eye,
To give her steadfast speech the lie;
In maiden confidence she stood.
Though mantled in her cheek the blood,
And told her love with such a sigh
445 Of deep and hopeless agony,
As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom,
And she sat sorrowing on his tomb.
Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye,
But not with hope fled sympathy.
450 He proffered to attend her side,
As brother would a sister guide.
"O little know'st thou Roderick's heart!
Safer for both we go apart.
O haste thee, and from Allan learn,
455 If thou may'st trust yon wily kern."
With hand upon his forehead laid,
The conflict of his mind to shade,
A parting step or two he made;
Then, as some thought had crossed his brain,
460 He paused, and turned, and came again.
XIX
"Hear, lady, yet, a parting word!
It chanced in fight that my poor sword
Preserved the life of Scotland's lord.
This ring the grateful Monarch gave,
465 And bade, when I had boon to crave,
To bring it back, and boldly claim
The recompense that I would name.
Ellen, I am no courtly lord,
But one who lives by lance and sword,
470 Whose castle is his helm and shield,
His lordship the embattled field.
What from a prince can I demand,
Who neither reck of state nor land?
Ellen, thy hand—the ring is thine;
475 Each guard and usher knows the sign.
Seek thou the king without delay—
This signet shall secure thy way—
And claim thy suit, whate'er it be,
As ransom of his pledge to me."
480 He placed the golden circlet on,
Paused—kissed her hand—and then was gone.
The aged Minstrel stood aghast,
So hastily Fitz-James shot past.
He joined his guide, and wending down
485 The ridges of the mountain brown,
Across the stream they took their way,
That joins Loch Katrine to Achray.
It chanced in fight that my poor sword
Preserved the life of Scotland's lord.
This ring the grateful Monarch gave,
465 And bade, when I had boon to crave,
To bring it back, and boldly claim
The recompense that I would name.
Ellen, I am no courtly lord,
But one who lives by lance and sword,
470 Whose castle is his helm and shield,
His lordship the embattled field.
What from a prince can I demand,
Who neither reck of state nor land?
Ellen, thy hand—the ring is thine;
475 Each guard and usher knows the sign.
Seek thou the king without delay—
This signet shall secure thy way—
And claim thy suit, whate'er it be,
As ransom of his pledge to me."
480 He placed the golden circlet on,
Paused—kissed her hand—and then was gone.
The aged Minstrel stood aghast,
So hastily Fitz-James shot past.
He joined his guide, and wending down
485 The ridges of the mountain brown,
Across the stream they took their way,
That joins Loch Katrine to Achray.
XX
All in the Trossachs' glen was still,
Noontide was sleeping on the hill:
490 Sudden his guide whooped loud and high—
"Murdoch! was that a signal cry?"
He stammered forth—"I shout to scare
Yon raven from his dainty fare."
He looked—he knew the raven's prey,
495 His own brave steed—"Ah! gallant gray!
For thee—for me, perchance—'twere well
We ne'er had seen the Trossachs' dell.
Murdoch, move first—but silently;
Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!"
500 Jealous and sullen on they fared,
Each silent, each upon his guard.
Noontide was sleeping on the hill:
490 Sudden his guide whooped loud and high—
"Murdoch! was that a signal cry?"
He stammered forth—"I shout to scare
Yon raven from his dainty fare."
He looked—he knew the raven's prey,
495 His own brave steed—"Ah! gallant gray!
For thee—for me, perchance—'twere well
We ne'er had seen the Trossachs' dell.
Murdoch, move first—but silently;
Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!"
500 Jealous and sullen on they fared,
Each silent, each upon his guard.
XXI
Now wound the path its dizzy ledge
Around a precipice's edge,
When lo! a wasted female form,
505 Blighted by wrath of sun and storm,
In tattered weeds and wild array,
Stood on a cliff beside the way,
And glancing round her restless eye,
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,
510 Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy.
Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom;
With gesture wild she waved a plume
Of feathers which the eagles fling
To crag and cliff from dusky wing;
515 Such spoils her desperate step had sought,
Where scarce was footing for the goat.
The tartan plaid she first descried,
And shrieked till all the rocks replied;
As loud she laughed when near they drew,
520 For then the Lowland garb she knew;
And then her hands she wildly wrung,
And then she wept, and then she sung—
She sung!—the voice, in better time,
Perchance to harp or lute might chime;
525 And now, though strained and roughened, still
Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill.
Around a precipice's edge,
When lo! a wasted female form,
505 Blighted by wrath of sun and storm,
In tattered weeds and wild array,
Stood on a cliff beside the way,
And glancing round her restless eye,
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,
510 Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy.
Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom;
With gesture wild she waved a plume
Of feathers which the eagles fling
To crag and cliff from dusky wing;
515 Such spoils her desperate step had sought,
Where scarce was footing for the goat.
The tartan plaid she first descried,
And shrieked till all the rocks replied;
As loud she laughed when near they drew,
520 For then the Lowland garb she knew;
And then her hands she wildly wrung,
And then she wept, and then she sung—
She sung!—the voice, in better time,
Perchance to harp or lute might chime;
525 And now, though strained and roughened, still
Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill.
XXII
SONG
They bid me sleep, they bid me pray,
They say my brain is warped and wrung—
I cannot sleep on Highland brae,
530 I cannot pray in Highland tongue.
But were I now where Allan glides,note
Or heard my native Devan's tides,
So sweetly would I rest, and pray
That Heaven would close my wintry day!
They say my brain is warped and wrung—
I cannot sleep on Highland brae,
530 I cannot pray in Highland tongue.
But were I now where Allan glides,note
Or heard my native Devan's tides,
So sweetly would I rest, and pray
That Heaven would close my wintry day!
535
'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid,
They made me to the church repair;
It was my bridal morn they said,
And my true love would meet me there.
But woe betide the cruel guile
540 That drowned in blood the morning smile!
And woe betide the fairy dream!
I only waked to sob and scream.
They made me to the church repair;
It was my bridal morn they said,
And my true love would meet me there.
But woe betide the cruel guile
540 That drowned in blood the morning smile!
And woe betide the fairy dream!
I only waked to sob and scream.
XXIII
"Who is this maid? what means her lay?
She hovers o'er the hollow way,
545 And flutters wide her mantle gray,
As the lone heron spreads his wing,
By twilight, o'er a haunted spring."
"'Tis Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said,
"A crazed and captive Lowland maid,
550 Ta'en on the morn she was a bride,
When Roderick forayed Devan side.
The gay bridegroom resistance made,
And felt our Chief's unconquered blade.
I marvel she is now at large,
555 But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge.note
Hence, brain-sick fool!"—he raised his bow.
"Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow,
I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far
As ever peasant pitched a bar!"—note
560 "Thanks, champion, thanks!" the maniac cried,
And pressed her to Fitz-James's side.
"See the gray pennons I prepare,
To seek my true-love through the air!
I will not lend that savage groom,note
565 To break his fall, one downy plume!
No! Deep amid disjointed stones,
The wolves shall batten on his bones,
And then shall his detested plaid,
By bush and brier in mid air stayed,
570 Wave forth a banner fair and free,
Meet signal for their revelry."
She hovers o'er the hollow way,
545 And flutters wide her mantle gray,
As the lone heron spreads his wing,
By twilight, o'er a haunted spring."
"'Tis Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said,
"A crazed and captive Lowland maid,
550 Ta'en on the morn she was a bride,
When Roderick forayed Devan side.
The gay bridegroom resistance made,
And felt our Chief's unconquered blade.
I marvel she is now at large,
555 But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge.note
Hence, brain-sick fool!"—he raised his bow.
"Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow,
I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far
As ever peasant pitched a bar!"—note
560 "Thanks, champion, thanks!" the maniac cried,
And pressed her to Fitz-James's side.
"See the gray pennons I prepare,
To seek my true-love through the air!
I will not lend that savage groom,note
565 To break his fall, one downy plume!
No! Deep amid disjointed stones,
The wolves shall batten on his bones,
And then shall his detested plaid,
By bush and brier in mid air stayed,
570 Wave forth a banner fair and free,
Meet signal for their revelry."
XXIV
"Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still!"
"Oh! thou look'st kindly and I will.
Mine eye has dried and wasted been,
575 But still it loves the Lincoln green;
And, though mine ear is all unstrung,
Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue.
"Oh! thou look'st kindly and I will.
Mine eye has dried and wasted been,
575 But still it loves the Lincoln green;
And, though mine ear is all unstrung,
Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue.
"For O my sweet William was forester true,
He stole poor Blanche's heart away!
580 His coat it was all of the greenwood hue,
And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay!
He stole poor Blanche's heart away!
580 His coat it was all of the greenwood hue,
And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay!
"It was not that I meant to tell....
But thou art wise and guessest well."
Then, in a low and broken tone,
585 And hurried note, the song went on.
Still on the Clansman, fearfully,
She fixed her apprehensive eye;
Then turned it on the Knight, and then
Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen.
But thou art wise and guessest well."
Then, in a low and broken tone,
585 And hurried note, the song went on.
Still on the Clansman, fearfully,
She fixed her apprehensive eye;
Then turned it on the Knight, and then
Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen.
XXV
590
"The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set,
Ever sing merrily, merrily;
The bows they bend, and the knives they whet,
Hunters live so cheerily.
Ever sing merrily, merrily;
The bows they bend, and the knives they whet,
Hunters live so cheerily.
"It was a stag, a stag of ten,note
595 Bearing its branches sturdily;
He came stately down the glen,
Ever sing hardily, hardily.
595 Bearing its branches sturdily;
He came stately down the glen,
Ever sing hardily, hardily.
"It was there he met with a wounded doe,
She was bleeding deathfully;
600 She warned him of the toils below,
Oh, so faithfully, faithfully!
She was bleeding deathfully;
600 She warned him of the toils below,
Oh, so faithfully, faithfully!
"He had an eye, and he could heed,
Ever sing warily, warily;
He had a foot, and he could speed—
605 Hunters watch so narrowly."
Ever sing warily, warily;
He had a foot, and he could speed—
605 Hunters watch so narrowly."
XXVI
Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed,
When Ellen's hints and fears were lost;
But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought,
And Blanche's song conviction brought.
610 Not like a stag that spies the snare,
But lion of the hunt aware,
He waved at once his blade on high,
"Disclose thy treachery, or die!"
Forth at full speed the Clansman flew,
615 But in his race his bow he drew.
The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest,
And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast.
Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed,
For ne'er had Alpine's son such need!
620 With heart of fire, and foot of wind,
The fierce avenger is behind!
Fate judges of the rapid strife—
The forfeit death—the prize is life!
Thy kindred ambush lies before,
625 Close couched upon the heathery moor;
Them couldst thou reach!—it may not be—
Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see,
The fiery Saxon gains on thee!
Resistless speeds the deadly thrust,
630 As lightning strikes the pine to dust;
With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain,
Ere he can win his blade again.
Bent o'er the fallen, with falcon eye,
He grimly smiled to see him die;
635 Then slower wended back his way,
Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.
When Ellen's hints and fears were lost;
But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought,
And Blanche's song conviction brought.
610 Not like a stag that spies the snare,
But lion of the hunt aware,
He waved at once his blade on high,
"Disclose thy treachery, or die!"
Forth at full speed the Clansman flew,
615 But in his race his bow he drew.
The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest,
And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast.
Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed,
For ne'er had Alpine's son such need!
620 With heart of fire, and foot of wind,
The fierce avenger is behind!
Fate judges of the rapid strife—
The forfeit death—the prize is life!
Thy kindred ambush lies before,
625 Close couched upon the heathery moor;
Them couldst thou reach!—it may not be—
Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see,
The fiery Saxon gains on thee!
Resistless speeds the deadly thrust,
630 As lightning strikes the pine to dust;
With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain,
Ere he can win his blade again.
Bent o'er the fallen, with falcon eye,
He grimly smiled to see him die;
635 Then slower wended back his way,
Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.
XXVII
She sat beneath a birchen-tree,
Her elbow resting on her knee;
She had withdrawn the fatal shaft,
640 And gazed on it, and feebly laughed;
Her wreath of broom and feathers gray,
Daggled with blood, beside her lay.
The Knight to staunch the life-stream tried—
"Stranger, it is in vain!" she cried.
645 "This hour of death has given me more
Of reason's power than years before;
For, as these ebbing veins decay,
My frenzied visions fade away.
A helpless injured wretch I die,
650 And something tells me in thine eye,
That thou wert mine avenger born.
Seest thou this tress?—Oh! still I've worn
This little tress of yellow hair,
Through danger, frenzy, and despair!
655 It once was bright and clear as thine,
But blood and tears have dimmed its shine.
I will not tell thee when 'twas shred,
Nor from what guiltless victim's head—
My brain would turn!—but it shall wave
660 Like plumage on thy helmet brave,
Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,
And thou wilt bring it me again.
I waver still—O God! more bright
Let reason beam her parting light!—
665 Oh! by thy knighthood's honored sign,
And for thy life preserved by mine,
When thou shalt see a darksome man,
Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan,
With tartans broad and shadowy plume
670 And hand of blood, and brow of gloom,
Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong,
And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong!—
They watch for thee by pass and fell....
Avoid the path.... O God!... farewell."
Her elbow resting on her knee;
She had withdrawn the fatal shaft,
640 And gazed on it, and feebly laughed;
Her wreath of broom and feathers gray,
Daggled with blood, beside her lay.
The Knight to staunch the life-stream tried—
"Stranger, it is in vain!" she cried.
645 "This hour of death has given me more
Of reason's power than years before;
For, as these ebbing veins decay,
My frenzied visions fade away.
A helpless injured wretch I die,
650 And something tells me in thine eye,
That thou wert mine avenger born.
Seest thou this tress?—Oh! still I've worn
This little tress of yellow hair,
Through danger, frenzy, and despair!
655 It once was bright and clear as thine,
But blood and tears have dimmed its shine.
I will not tell thee when 'twas shred,
Nor from what guiltless victim's head—
My brain would turn!—but it shall wave
660 Like plumage on thy helmet brave,
Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,
And thou wilt bring it me again.
I waver still—O God! more bright
Let reason beam her parting light!—
665 Oh! by thy knighthood's honored sign,
And for thy life preserved by mine,
When thou shalt see a darksome man,
Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan,
With tartans broad and shadowy plume
670 And hand of blood, and brow of gloom,
Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong,
And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong!—
They watch for thee by pass and fell....
Avoid the path.... O God!... farewell."