Standarb Classics I

^- <!• A- * « * j ' j

.k. JTi.

/J.' .1. A ..)?. JL-^, ,4^-.'i'\i\.i^w

ClassPiiifli

Book,A_L

Co^TightN"

/_f^lf

COEffilGlBP DEPOSIT.

NEWTON'S PORTRAIT OF SIR WALTER SCOTT

From the original painting done at Chief swood in August, 1824

SIR WALTER SCOTT , 4^,

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

^^^^^

*

1^

Edited With Introduction and Notes

BY

EBENEZER CHARLTON BLACK, LL.D.

GINN AND COMPANY

BOSTON • NEW YORK • CHICAGO • LONDON ATLANTA • DALLAS • COLUMBUS • SAN FRANCISCO

5^0^

:^\

^

COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY GINN AND COMPANY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 921.1

MAR 3U iP?l

GINN AND COMPANY • PRO- PRIETORS • BOSTON • U.S.A.

S)Cl,A6il606

'T/vw> I

i-

TO HER

FOR WHOM LAKE AGNES IN THE

HEART OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS

WAS NAMED

THIS EDITION OF "THE LADY OF THE LAKE'

IS DEDICATED

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

PAGES

I. Biographical ix

Shakespeare and Scott ix

\.OQ}^'dx\^'s> Life of Scott x

Scott's Autobiography , . xi

" The Bath Miniature " xiii

Scott's Literary Life xxi

Chronological Table xxiii-xxv

The Last Days of Scott xxvi

The Scott Monument xxx

IL Historical Setting of The Lady of the Lake . xxxv

Highlanders and Borderers xxxv

James V of Scotland (1 5 1 2-1 542) xli

HI. Literary Appreciation xlvi

IV. Scott's Introduction xlviii

V. Scott's Original Dedication and Argument . . Iv

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

Canto First. The Chase i

Canto Second. The Island 31

Canto Third. The Gathering 65

Canto Fourth. The Prophecy 97

Canto Fifth. The Combat 129

Canto Sixth. The Guard-Room 163

[vii]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE NOTES

PAGES

I. The Text 197

Manuscript Variations 197

Facsimile of the original manuscript of the introduc- tory stanzas 198-199

II. Versification 202

III. Explanatory and Illustrative 203

Canto First 203

Canto Second 206

Canto Third 208

Canto Fourth 209

Canto Fifth 211

Canto Sixth 213

[viii]

MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE LOCA

S OF THE LADY OF THE LAKE

INTRODUCTION

I. BIOGRAPHICAL

Shakespeare and Scott

The supreme names in the literature of the English-speaking world are those of William Shakespeare and Walter Scott. With obvious differences in their interpretation of life, both men had much in common. Voluminousness characterizes the literary output of both. Each possessed historical imagination in a peculiarly active and vivid form ; and this, united with extraordinary width of range, depth of sympathy, and sheer joy in life, enabled them to connect past and present in so intimate and understanding a way that their writings have become an eternal contribution to the epic and the drama of civilization. In this connection it is significant that both writers were, and are, popular in the deep, true sense of the word. As with Horace and Virgil, as with Dante, as with Dickens, their contemporaries heard them gladly ; and, since they were first given to the world, Shakespeare's plays and Scott's romances in verse and prose have made perennial appeal to all sorts and conditions of men. The authentic records of the life story of the two are in marked contrast. In the case of Shakespeare these records are comparatively few and fragmentary, though alive with meaning, but the life of Scott, like his honest, simple face, is one of the best known in all the world. It was written in fullest detail, not a spot or wrinkle smoothed over, by his son-in-law, John Gibson Lockhart, who had intimate acquaint- ance with his subject and an excellent knowledge of literature, creative and critical.

[ix]

INTRODUCTION

Lockhart's Life of Scott

Lockhart's Scott takes its place with Boswell's Johnson as a great human document. It tells of a good and illustrious man in a sincere, worthy, and always interesting way. The first chapter is an autobiographical sketch by Scott himself, which gives with all the ease of familiar conversation the story of his ancestry, his early years, his boyhood, and his somewhat desul- tory life as a student at Edinburgh University. From the sickly childhood to the adventures at college and the resolute deter- mination to become a lawyer to please a father, the record is a remarkable parallel to the experiences of his successor seventy years later in the field of high romance, Robert Louis Stevenson.

After a brief introduction the autobiography begins with the well-known words : '' Every Scottishman ^ has a pedigree," and with characteristic enthusiasm Scott describes his descent from that Walter Scott of The Lay of the Last Minstrel who is known in Border history and legend as Auld Watt (Old Walter) of Harden. The artless narrative reveals how certain elements in his ancestry were peculiarly gratifying to his feelings of nation- ality and to his imagination. They help to explain why Scott is the most representative man of his race, and how it happened that, as Carlyle said of him, ^^ no Scotchman of his time was more entirely Scotch than Walter Scott." The memory of the exploits of his ancestors awoke in him that love of history and legend which is the source of his finest poetry and greatest novels. His wish to be known as one of the old house of Harden and a passionate desire to found a new territorial family of Scott brought about the financial disaster from the struggle with which he emerged utterly broken in health, but

1 So Scott wrote the word. Variants are " Scotchman," often used by Barrie, and " Scotsman," the more scholarly form preferred by Stevenson.

[X]

BIOGRAPHICAL

with honor saved and a name to the end of time for chivalric loyalty to duty in the face of direst odds. The last chapters of Lockhart's Life are the record of a tragedy, but in it virtue of the highest, rarest kind is -triumphant. Little wonder that Carlyle was compelled to exclaim : '^ When he departed he took a Man's life along with him. No sounder piece of British man- hood was put together in that eighteenth century of Time." It is this element in Lockhart's Life which led Gladstone and Newman to read the biography from beginning to end once a year. It was one of the favorite books of Tennyson, and in his last volume he caused to be printed in capital letters this stanza :

0 great and gallant Scott,

True gentleman, heart, blood and bone !

1 would it had been my lot

To have seen thee, and heard thee, and known.

Scott's Autobiography

[The following is abridged, without any change of phraseology, from the autobiographical fragment discovered by Lockhart in an old cabinet at Abbotsford, after the death of Scott. It was written in 1808.]

I was born, as I believe, on the 15th August, 177 1. I showed every sign of health and strength until I was about eighteen months old. One night, I have been often told, I showed great reluctance to be caught and put to bed ; and after being chased about the room was apprehended and consigned to my dormi- tory with some difficulty. It was the last time I was to show such personal agility. In the morning I was discovered to be affected with the fever which often accompanies the cutting of large teeth. It held me three days. On the fourth, when they went to bathe me as usual, they discovered that I had lost the

[xi]

INTRODUCTION

power of my right \tg} My grandfather, an excellent anatomist as well as physician, the late worthy Alexander Wood, and many others of the most respectable of the faculty, were con- sulted. There appeared to be no dislocation or sprain ; blisters and other topical remedies were applied in vain. The advice of my grandfather. Dr. Rutherford, that I should be sent to reside in the country, to give the chance of natural exertion, excited by free air and liberty, was first resorted to ; and before I have the recollection of the slightest event I was, agreeably to this friendly counsel, an inmate in the farmhouse of Sandy-Knowe.

It is here at Sandy-Knowe, in the residence of my paternal grandfather, that I have the first consciousness of existence.

My grandmother, in whose youth the old Border depredations were matter of recent tradition, used to tell me many a tale of Watt of Harden, Wight Willie of Aikwood, Jamie Telfer of the fair Dodhead, and other heroes, — merrymen all of the persua- sion and calling of Robin Hood and Little John. Two or three old books which lay in the window seat were explored for my amuse- ment in the tedious winter days. Automathes and Ramsay's Tea- _ table Miscellany were my favorites, although at a later period an odd volume of Josephus's Wars of the Jews divided my partiality.

My kind and affectionate aunt. Miss Janet Scott, whose memory will ever be dear to me, used to read these works to me with admirable patience, until I could repeat long passages by heart. The ballad of Hardyknute I was early master of, to the great annoyance of almost our only visitor, the worthy clergyman of the parish. Dr. Duncan, who had not patience to have a sober chat interrupted by my shouting forth this ditty. Methinks I now see his tall, thin, emaciated figure, his legs

1 "No better description could be given of the onset oi polioencephalo- myelitis, what is popularly known as infantile paralysis." — Andrew A. Knox, M.D.

[xii]

BIOGRAPHICAL

cased in clasped gambadoes, and his face of a length that would have rivaled the Knight of La Mancha's, and hear him exclaiming, '' One may as well speak in the mouth of a cannon as where that child is."

I was in my fourth year when my father was ad- vised that the Bath waters might be of some advan- tage to my lame- ness. My affection- ate aunt, although such a journey promised to a per- son of her retired habits anything but pleasure or amusement, under- took as readily to accompany me to the wells of Bladud as if she had ex- pected all the delight that ever the prospect of a watering place held out to its most impatient visitants. My health was by this time a good deal confirmed by the country air and the influence of that imperceptible and unfatiguing exercise to which the good sense of my grandfather had subjected me ; for, when the day was fine, I was usually carried out and laid down beside the old shepherd, among the crags or rocks round which he fed his sheep. The impatience of a child soon inclined me to struggle

[ ^iii ]

SCOTT AT THE AGE OF FOUR '' The Bath Miniature "

INTRODUCTION

with my infirmity, and I began by degrees to stand, to walk, and to run. Although the limb affected was much shrunk and contracted, my general health, which was of more importance, was much strengthened by being frequently in the open air ; and, in a word, I, who in a city had probably been condemned to hopeless and helpless decrepitude, was now a healthy, high- spirited, and, my lameness apart, a sturdy child.

During my residence at Bath ^ I acquired the rudiments of reading at a day school kept by an old dame near our lodgings, and I had never a more regular teacher, although I think I did not attend her a quarter of a year. An occasional lesson from my aunt supplied the rest. Afterwards, when grown a big boy, I had a few lessons from Mr. Stalker of Edinburgh, and finally from the Rev. Mr. Cleeve.

The most delightful recollections of Bath are dated after the arrival of my uncle, Captain Robert Scott, who introduced me to all the little amusements which suited my age, and, above all. to the theater. The play was As Vou Like It\ and the witchery of the whole scene is alive in my mind at this moment. I made, I believe, noise more than ^enough, and remember being so much scandalized at the quarrel between Orlando and his brother, in the first scene, that I screamed out, '' A'n't they brothers ? '' A few weeks' residence at home convinced me, who had till then been an only child in the house of my grandfather, that a quarrel between brothers was a very natural event.

After being a year at Bath I returned first to Edinburgh, and afterwards for a season to Sandy- Knowe ; and thus the time whiled away till about my eighth year, when it was thought sea bathing might be of service to my lameness.

1 [It was at this time that the dehghtful child portrait of Scott, known as the " Bath Miniature," was painted. It is reproduced here, on page xiii.]

[xiv]

BIOGRAPHICAL

For this purpose, still under my aunt's protection, I remained some weeks at Prestonpans, — a circumstance not worth men- tioning, excepting to record my juvenile intimacy with an old military veteran, Dalgetty by name, who had pitched his tent in that little village, after all his campaigns, subsisting upon an ensign's half pay, though called by courtesy a Captain. As this old gentleman, who had been in all the German wars, found very few to listen to his tales of military feats, he formed a sort of alliance with me, and I used invariably to attend him for the pleasure of hearing those communications. Sometimes our conversation turned on the American war, which was then raging. It was about the time of Burgoyne's unfortunate expedition, to which my Captain and I augured different conclusions. Somebody had shown me a map of North America, and, struck with the rugged appearance of the country and the quantity of lakes, I expressed some doubts on the subject of the General's arriving safely at the end of his journey, which were very indignantly refuted by the Captain. The news of the Saratoga disaster, while it gave me a little triumph, rather shook my intimacy with the veteran.

Besides this veteran, I found another ally at Prestonpans in the person of George Constable, an old friend of my father's. He was the first person who told me about Falstaff and Hotspur, and other characters in Shakespeare. What idea I annexed to them I know not, but I must have annexed some, for I remember quite well being interested in the subject. Indeed, I rather suspect that children derive impulses of a powerful and important kind in hearing things which they cannot entirely comprehend ; and, therefore, that to write down to children's understanding is a mistake : set them on the scent, and let them puzzle it out.

[XV]

INTRODUCTION

From Prestonpans I was transported back to my father's house in George's Square, which continued to be my most established place of residence until my marriage in 1797. I felt the change, from being a single indulged brat to be- coming a member of a large family, very severely ; for, under the gentle government of my kind grandmother, who was meekness itself, and of my aunt, who, though of an higher temper, was exceedingly attached to me, I had acquired a degree of license which could not be permitted in a large family. 1 had sense enough, however, to bend my temper to my new circumstances ; but, such was the agony which I internally experienced, that I have guarded against nothing more, in the education of my own family, than against their acquiring habits of self-willed caprice and domination. I found much consolation, during this period of mortification, in the partiality of my mother. She joined to a light and happy temper of mind a -strong turn to study poetry and works of imagination.

My lameness and my solitary habits had made me a tolerable reader, and my hours of leisure were usually spent in reading aloud to my mother Pope's translation of Homer, which, ex- cepting a few traditionary ballads, and the songs in Allan Ramsay's Evergreen^ was the first poetry which I perused. My mother had good natural taste and great feeling : she used to make me pause upon those passages which expressed generous and worthy sentiments, and, if she could not divert me from those which were descriptive of battle and tumult, she contrived at least to divide my attention between them. My own enthusiasm, however, was chiefly awakened by the wonderful and the terrible — the common taste of children, but in which I have remained a child even unto this day. I got by heart, not as a task, but almost without intending

[xvi]

BIOGRAPHICAL

it, the passages with which I was most pleased, and used to recite them aloud, both when alone and to others — more willingly, however, in my hours of solitude, for I had observed some auditors smile, and I dreaded ridicule at that time of life more than I have ever done since.

In 1778 I was sent to the second class of the Grammar School, or High School of Edinburgh, then taught by Mr. Luke Fraser, a good Latin scholar and a very worthy man.

Our class contained some very excellent scholars. As for myself, I glanced like a meteor from one end of the class to the other, and commonly disgusted my kind master as much by negligence and frivolity as I occasionally pleased him by flashes of intellect and talent. Among my companions my good nature and a flow of ready imagination rendered me very popular. Boys are uncommonly just in their feelings, and at least equally generous. My lameness, and the efforts which I made to supply that disadvantage, by making up in address what I wanted in activity, engaged the latter principle in my favor ; and in the winter play hours, when hard exercise was impossible, my tales used to assemble an admiring audi- ence round Lucky Brown's fireside, and happy was he that could sit next to the inexhaustible narrator. I was also, though often negligent of my own task, always ready to assist my friends ; and hence I had a little party of stanch partisans and adherents, stout of hand and heart, though somewhat dull of head, — the very tools for raising a hero to eminence. So, on the whole, I made a brighter figure in the yards than in the class.

After having been three years under Mr. Fraser, our class was,

in the usual routine of the school, turned over to Dr. Adam,

the Rector. It was from this respectable man that I first

learned the value of the knowledge I had hitherto considered

R [xvii]

INTRODUCTION

only as a burdensome task. It was the fashion to remain two years at his class, where we read Caesar and Livy and Sallust, in prose ; Virgil, Horace, and Terence, in verse. I had by this time mastered, in some degree, the difficulties of the language, and began to be sensible of its beauties. This was really gathering grapes from thistles; nor shall I soon forget the swelling of my little pride when the Rector pronounced, that though many of my schoolfellows understood the Latin better, Gicalterus Scott was behind few in following and enjoy- ing the author's micaning. Thus encouraged, I distinguished myself by some attempts at poetical versions from Horace and Virgil. Dr. Adam used to invite his scholars to such essays, but never made them tasks. I gained some distinction upon these occasions, and the Rector in future took much notice of me ; and his judicious mixture of censure and praise went far to counterbalance my habits of indolence and inattention. I saw I was expected to do well, and I was piqued in honor to vindicate my master's favorable opinion. I climbed, there- fore, to the first form ; and, though I never made a first-rate Latinist, my schoolfellows, and what was of more consequence, I myself, considered that I had a character for learning to maintain.

From Dr. Adam's class I should, according to the usual rou- tine, have proceeded immediately to college. But, fortunately, I was not yet to lose, by a total dismission from constraint, the acquaintance with the Latin which I had acquired. My health had become rather delicate from rapid growth, and my father was easily persuaded to allow me to spend half a year at Kelso with my kind aunt, Miss Janet Scott, whose inmate I again became. It was hardly worth mentioning that I had frequently visited her during our short vacations.

In the meanwhile my acquaintance with English literature was gradually extending itself. In the intervals of my school

[ xviii ]

BIOGRAPHICAL

hours I had always perused with avidity such books of history or poetry or voyages and travels as chance presented to me, — not forgetting the usual, or rather ten times the usual, quantity of fairy tales, eastern stories, romances, etc. These studies were totally unregulated and undirected. My tutor thought it almost a sin to open a profane play or poem ; and my mother, besides that she might be in some degree tram- meled by the religious scruples which he suggested, had no longer the opportunity to hear me read poetry as formerly. I found, however, in her dressing room (where I slept at one time) som.e odd volumes of Shakespeare ; nor can I easily for- get the rapture with which I sate up in my shirt reading them by the light of a fire in her apartment, until the bustle of the family rising from supper warned me it was time to creep back to my bed, where I was supposed to have been safely deposited since nine o'clock. Chance, however, threw in my way a poetical preceptor. This was no other than the excellent and benevolent Dr. Blacklock, well known at that time as a literary character. I know not how I attracted his attention, and that of some of the young men who boarded in his family ; but so it was that I became a frequent and favored guest. The kind old man opened to me the stores of his library, and through his recommendation I became intimate with Ossian and Spenser. I was delighted with both, yet I think chiefly with the latter poet. The tawdry repetitions of the Ossianic phraseology dis- gusted me rather sooner than might have been expected from my age. But Spenser I could have read forever. Too young to trouble myself about the allegory, I considered all the knights and ladies and dragons and giants in their outward and exoteric sense, and God only knows how delighted I was to find myself in such society. As I had always a wonderful facility in retaining in my memory whatever verses pleased me,

[xix]

INTRODUCTION

the quantity of Spenser's stanzas which I could repeat was really marvelous. But this memory of mine was a very fickle ally, and has through my whole life acted merely upon its own capricious motion, and might have enabled me to adopt old Beattie of Meikledale's answer, when complimented by a cer- tain reverend divine on the strength of the same faculty : '^ No, sir," answered the old Borderer, '' I have no command of my memory. It only retains what hits my fancy ; and probably, sir, if you were to preach to me for two hours, I would not be able when you finished to remember a word you had been saying." My memory was precisely of the same kind : it seldom failed to preserve most tenaciously a favorite passage of poetry, a play-house ditty, or, above all, a Border-raid ballad ; but names, dates, and the other technicalities of history escaped me in a most melancholy degree.

Among the valuable acquisitions I made about this time was an acquaintance with Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, But, above all, I then first became acquainted with Bishop Percy's Reliqties of A7icie7it Poetry, I remember well the spot where I read these volumes for the first time. It was beneath a huge platanus tree, in the ruins of what had been intended for an old-fashioned arbor in the garden I have mentioned. The summer day sped onward so fast, that, notwithstanding the sharp appetite of thirteen, I forgot the hour of dinner, w^as sought for with anxiety, and w^as still found entranced in my intellectual banquet. To read and to remember was in this instance the same thing, and henceforth I overwhelmed my schoolfellows, and all who would hearken to me, with tragical recitations from the ballads of Bishop Percy. The first time, too, I could scrape a few shillings together, which were not common occurrences with me, I bought unto myself a copy of these beloved volumes ; nor do I believe I ever read a book half so frequently or with

[XX]

BIOGRAPHICAL

half the enthusiasm. About this period also I became acquainted with the works of Richardson, and those of Mackenzie, with Fielding, Smollett, and some others of our best novelists.

To this period also I can trace distinctly the awakening of that delightful feeling for the beauties of natural objects which has never since deserted me. The neighborhood of Kelso, the most beautiful, if not the most romantic village in Scotland, is eminently calculated to awaken these ideas.

From this time the love of natural beaut}^, more especially when combined with ancient ruins, or remains of our fathers' piety or splendor, became with me an insatiable passion, which, if circumstances had permitted, I would willingly have gratified by traveling over half the globe.

Scott's Literary Life

As may be seen at a glance in the chronological table sub- joined, Scott was contemporaneous with the poets and novelists who, at the close of the eighteenth century and during the first twenty-five years of the nineteenth, brought about that change in the literature of the English-speaking world which is often called the triumph of romanticism. This movement was primarily, to use Professor Herford's words, a development of imaginative sensibility. . ^^ At countless points the universe of sense and thought acquired a new potency of response and appeal to man, a new capacity of ministering to, and mingling with, his richest and intensest life. Glory of lake and moun- tain, grace of childhood, dignity of the untaught peasant, wonder of faerie, mystery of the Gothic aisle, radiance of Attic marble — all these springs of the poet's inspiration and the artist's joy began to flow. ... To rekindle the soul of the past, or to reveal a soul where no eye had yet discerned it ... to invest lake and mountain with ^ the light that never was on sea or land ' ; to

[xxi]

INTRODUCTION

make the natural appear supernatural, as Wordsworth and Coleridge put it, or the supernatural natural — were but different avenues to the world of Romance.''

A year younger than Wordsworth, a year older than Coleridge, Scott became with them a powerful influence in bringing about this great awakening, this renascence of wonder. The move- ment was carried to new heights and depths by younger men, Byron, Shelley, and Keats. Conservative to the core, Scott was kept from revolutionary extravagancies in subject matter and diction ; subtle philosophizing was alien to his sturdy common sense. His frank appeal to what is basic and universal in human experience made him the romanticist that he is. His themes are elemental as dawn, sunset, a night of stars, birth, love and death ; his treatment is simple, sincere, reverent. His avowed aim was to ingraft modern refinement on ancient simplicity and to preserve the energy of the old ballad without its rudeness and bareness.

Scott's life as a writer falls into two periods of exactly eight- een years each. The first of these extends from 1796 — the year in which Burns died and Carlyle was twelve months old — when Scott published his translation of Burger's Lenore^ until 18 1 4, when Waverley appeared. This period from Scott's twenty-fifth to his forty-third year, is that of his verse, edited, translated, and original. The second period from 18 14 to 1832 is that of his prose, the Waverley Novels and formal historical writings. It is the time of his wealth and his fall into financial ruin. During the first twelve years of this second period Scott wrote his finest novels and built his famous baronial mansion, Abbotsford, on the banks of his beloved Tweed. The remain- ing six years are marked by grinding taskwork, bodily infirmities, and the overburdened brain shattered by apoplexy and paralysis, until death released him in 1832.

[ ^^ii ]

BIOGRAPHICAL

'CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE Period L Verse, i 796-1814

Year	Scott's Publications	Other Literature	History and Biography
1796	Translations from Burger etc.	Washington's Farewell Address Coleridge's Poems	Bums died Napoleonic wars
1797		Bewick's British Birds	Burke died Napoleon crossed Alps
1798		The Lyrical Ballads (Wordsworth ; Coleridge) Goethe's Hermann ti7id Dorothea	Battle of the Nile
1799	Translation of Goethe's Goeiz 71011 Berlichhi- gen. Ballads	Campbell's Pleasures of Hope	Balzac bom Heine born Washington died
1800	The Eve of St. John and other original Ballads	Maria Edgeworth's Castle Rackrent	Cowper died. Macaulay born. Act of Union of Great Britain and Ire- land. Beethoven's First Symphony
1801		^ Monk ' Lewis : Tales of Wo7ider	Battle of Copenhagen Jefferson, President of United Statesof America
1802	Minstrelsy of Scottish Border. Vols. I and II	Ediftbiirgh Review established	Victor Hugo born
1803	Minstrelsy of Scottish Border. Vol. Ill Reviews		Emerson bom Louisiana Purchase
1804	Ed. Sir Tristrein (Metrical Romance)	Schiller's Wilhelm Tell	Kant died. Napoleon became Emperor
1805	Lay of the Last Min- strel. Reviews		Battles of Trafalgar and Austerlitz. Schiller died
1806	Ballads and Lyrical Pieces. Reviews	Coleridge's Christabel	Battle of Jena
1807		Byron's Hours of Idle- ness	Longfellow born
1808	Marmion Ed. Dry den's Works	Wilson's A merican Ornithology (Vol. I) Quarterly Review established	Peninsular War
1809	Reviews	Byron's English Bards and Scotch Reviewers	Battle of Corunna Tennyson, Darwin, Gladstone, Lincoln, Poe, Holmes born

[ ^^^^^ ]

INTRODUCTION

Year	Scott's Publications	Other Literature	History and Biography
1810	Lady of the Lake	J. Porter's Scottish Chiefs
1811	Vision of Don Roderick	J. Austen's Sense ajid Sensibility. Goethe's Dichtung und Wahr- heit (First Part)	Thackeray bom
1812	Rokeby	J. Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Byrn's Childe Harold (Cantos I, II), Crabbe's Tales	Browning, Dickens bom War between Great Britain and the United States Napoleon's Russian campaign
1813	Bridal of Triermain	Byron's Giaour, Bride of Abydos. Shelley's Quee7i Mab	Battle of Leipzig

Period II. Prose. 1814-1832

I8I4	Waver ley. Ed. Swift's Works	J. Austen's Mafisfield Park. Byron's Lara Wordsworth's Excur- sion	Congress of Vienna
I8I5	Lord of the Isles Guy Man7ieritig Field of Waterloo	Byron's Hebrew Melodies Wordsworth's White Doe North A merican Review established	Battle of Waterloo. Holy Alliance
I8I6	The A ntiqtiary The Black Dwarf Old Mortality	J. Austen's Emma Shelley's Alastor Byron's Childe Harold (Canto III)	Charlotte Bronte bom
I8I7	Rob Roy	Byron's Ma7ifred Coleridge's Biographia Liter aria Moore's Lalla Rookh Bryant's Tha7iatopsis Blackwood? s Magazine estabhshed	J. Austen died Madame de Stael died
I8I8	Heart of Midlothian	Keats' s Endymioji Shelley's Revolt of Islajii Irving's Sketch Book	Emily Bronte bom
I8I9	The Bride ofLammer- ■moor and Legend of Montrose Iva?ihoe	Byron's Don Juan (Cantos I, II) Shelley's Ce7tci Wordsworth's Waggo7ter	Kingsley, Ruskin, Lowell bom George Eliot born
1820	The Mo7iastery The Abbot	Keats's Lam.ia, Isabella, Eve of St. Agnes, Hyperio7i. Shelley's Prometheus Utibcnifid	Missouri Compromise

[ ^^^v ]

BIOGRAPHICAL

Year	Scott's Publications	Other Literature	History and Biography
1821	Kenihuorth The Fir ate	Byron's Cain, Mariiio Faliero, S arda?iapalus DeQuincey's Confessio?is Shelley's Adonais, E pi- Psych idion . Bryan t' s Poems. Cooper's Spy	Keats died Greek struggle for inde- pendence began; con- tinued until 1829
1822	For trine s of Nigel	Lamb's Essays of Elia	Shelley drowned Matthew Arnold bom
1823	Peveril of the Peak Quentin Durward St. Ronan's Well	Cooper's Pilot, Pioneers	Monroe Doctrine formulated
1824	Redgauntlet	Carlyle's Translation of Wilhehn Meister Westminster Review established	B3Ton died in Greece in the cause of liberty La Fayette in United States
1825	The Betrothed The Talisman	Carlyle's Schiller Macaulay's Milton Coleridge's A ids to Reflectiofi	Richter died Saint- Simon died
1826	Woodstock	Cooper's Last of the Mohica7is Heine's Reisebilder
1827	Chronicles of the Ca n ongate ( Two Drovers, Highlatid Widow, Surgeon's Daughter). Tales of a Grandfather (First Series)	Keble's Christian Year Heine's Buch der Lieder Audubon's Birch of Am.erica Poe's Tamerlaine	Blake died Battle of Navarino
1828	Fair Maid of Perth	Hawthorne's Fanshawe	Catholic Emancipation in England George Meredith bom D. G. Rossetti bom
1829	A nne of Geier stein	A. Tennyson's Timbuctoo Sainte-Beuve's Joseph Delonne
1830	Doom of Devorgoil Essays ofi Ballad Poetry Letters on Demonology	Tennyson's Poems chiefly Lyrical	Hazlitt died
183 1	Count Robert of Paris Castle Dangerous	Ebenezer Elliot's Corn-Law Rhymes Hugo's Notre Dame Poe's Raven Whittier's Lege7ids of New England	Webster's debate with Hayne
1832			DEATH OF SCOTT Bentham died. Crabbe died. Goethe died. Freneau died. Reform Bill passed

[ ^^^ ]

INTRODUCTION

The Last Days of Scott

[No finer prose description is found in nineteenth-century litera- ture than the last chapter of Lockhart's Life, a few passages from which follow. It tells of the passing of the old minstrel-hero into his eternal renown and. in its blending of unconscious power and unconscious grace, illustrates what is at the heart of all real greatness in literature — true goodness in life.]

At a ver}' early hour on the morning of Wednesday, we placed him in his carriage, and he lay in the same torpid state during the first t^vo stages on the road to Tweedside. But as we descended the vale of the Gala he began to gaze about him, and by degrees it was obvious that he was recognizing the fea- tures of that famihar landscape. Presently he murmured a name or two, — ^'Gala Water, surely. — Buckholm. — Torwoodlee." As we rounded the hill at Ladhope. and the outline of the Eildons burst on him, he became greatly excited, and when turning himself on the couch his eye caught at length his own towers, at the distance of a mile, he sprang up with a cr}- of delight. . . .

Mr. Laidlaw w^as w^aiting at the porch, and assisted us in lifting him into the dining-room, where his bed had been pre- pared. He sat bewildered for a few moments, and then resting his eye on Laidlaw. said, '' Ha ! WilHe Laidlaw I O man, how often have I thought of you ! " By this time his dogs had assembled about his chair. — they began to fawn upon him and lick his hands, and he alternately sobbed and smiled over them, until sleep oppressed him. ...

He expressed a wish that I should read to him, and when I asked from what book, he said, '' Need you ask ? There is but one.'* I chose the fourteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel ; he listened with mild devotion, and said when I had done, '^ Well, this is a great comfort, — I have follow^ed you

[xxvi]

BIOGRAPHICAL

distinctly, and I feel as if I were yet to be myself again/' In this placid frame he was again put to bed, and had many hours of soft slumber.

On the third day Mr. Laidlaw and I again wheeled him about the small piece of lawn and shrubbery in front of the house for some time, and the weather being delightful, and all the rich- ness of summer around him, he seemed to taste fully the balmy influences of nature. The sun getting very strong, we halted the chair in a shady corner, just within the verge of his verdant arcade around the court-wall ; and breathing the coolness of the spot, he said, '^ Read me some amusing thing, — read me a bit of Crabbe.'' I brought out the first volume of his old favorite that I could lay hand on, and turned to what I remem- bered as one of his most favorite passages in it, — the descrip- tion of the arrival of the players in the Borough. He listened with great interest, and also, as I soon perceived, with great curiosity. Every now and then he exclaimed, '' Capital — excel- lent— very good — Crabbe has lost nothing.'' . . .

On the morning of Sunday, he was again taken out into the little pleasaunce^ and got as far as his favorite terrace-walk between the garden and the river, from which he seemed to survey the valley and the hills with much satisfaction. On re- entering the house, he desired me to read to him from the New Testament. . . . His recollection of whatever I read from the Bible appeared to be lively ; and in the afternoon, when we made his grandson, a child of six years, repeat some of Dr. Watts's hymns by his chair, he seemed also to remember them per- fectly. That evening he heard the Church service, and when I was about to close the book, said, '' Why do you omit the visitation for the sick ? " -^ which I added accordingly.

On Monday he remained in bed and seemed extremely feeble ; but after breakfast on Tuesday, he appeared revived

[ xxvii ]

INTRODUCTION

somewhat, and was again wheeled about on the turf. Presently he fell asleep in his chair, and after dozing for perhaps half an hour, started awake, and shaking the plaids we had put about him from off his shoulders, said : '' This is sad idleness. I shall forget what I have been thinking of* if I don't set it down now. Take me into my own room, and fetch the keys of my desk." He repeated this so earnestly that we could not refuse ; his daughters went into his study, opened his writing-desk, and laid paper and pens in the usual order, and I then moved him through the hall and into the spot where he had always been accustomed to work. When the chair was placed at the desk, and he found himself in the old position, he smiled and thanked us, and said, ^^ Now give me my pen, and leave me for a little to myself." Sophia put the pen into his hand, and he endeavored to close his fingers upon it, but they refused their office, — it dropped on the paper. He sank back among his pillows, silent tears rolling down his cheeks ; but composing himself by and by, motioned to me to wheel him out of doors again. Laidlaw met us at the porch, and took his turn of the chair. Sir Walter, after a little while, again dropped into slumber. When he awakened, Laidlaw said to me, '' Sir Walter has had a little repose." '' No, Willie," said he, '' no repose for Sir Walter but in the grave." The tears again rushed from his eyes. "Friends," said he, ''don't let me expose myself — get me to bed, — that 's the only place."

After this he declined daily, but still there was great strength to be wasted, and the process was long. He seemed, however, to suffer no bodily pain, and his mind, though hopelessly obscured, appeared, when there was any symptom of con- sciousness, to be dwelling, with rare exceptions, on serious and solemn things ; the accent of the voice grave, sometimes awful, but never querulous. . . . Whatever we could follow him in was

[ xxviii ]

BIOGRAPHICAL

a fragment of the Bible (especially the Prophecies of Isaiah and the Book of Job) — of some' petition in the litany — or a verse of some psalm (in the old Scotch metrical version) — or of some of the magnificent hymns of the Romish ritual in which he had always delighted. We very often heard distinctly the cadence of the Dies Irae \ and I think that the very last stanza that we could make out was the first of a still greater favorite : — -

*^ Stabat Mater dolorosa, Juxta crucem lachrymosa, Dum pendebat Filius." ,

All this time he continued to recognize his daughters, Laidlaw, and myself, whenever we spoke to him, — and received every attention with a most touching thankfulness. Mr. Clarkson, too, was always saluted with the old courtesy, though the cloud opened but a moment for him to do so. Most truly might it be said that the gentleman survived the genius. . . .

As I was dressing on the morning of Monday the 17 th of September, Nicolson came into my room, and told me that his master had awoke in a state of composure and consciousness, and wished to see me immediately. I found him entirely himself, though in the last extreme of feebleness. His eye was clear and calm — every trace of the wild fire of delirium extinguished. ^^ Lockhart," he said, " I may have but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be a good man — be virtuous— be religious — be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here." He paused, and I said, '' Shall I send for Sophia and Anne ? " '' No," said he, '' don't disturb them. Poor souls ! I know they were up all night — God bless you all." With this he sunk into a very tranquil sleep, and, indeed, he scarcely afterwards gave any sign of consciousness, except for an instant on the arrival of his sons. They, on learning that the scene was about to close, obtained a new leave of absence from their

INTRODUCTION

posts, and both reached Abbotsford on the 19th. About half past one p.m., on the 21st of September, Sir Walter breathed his last, in the presence of all his children. It was a beautiful day, — so warm that every window was wide open, — and so perfectly still that the sound of all others most delicious to his ear, the gentle ripple of the Tweed over its pebbles, w^as dis- tinctly audible as we knelt around the bed, and his eldest son kissed and closed his eyes.

The Scott Monument (princes street, edinburgh)

[These stanzas of ottava riuia were written by Ebenezer Charlton Black for the advanced work in rhetoric and English literature, Edinburgh University, in the now famous Class of 1882, of which Sir lames Matthew Barrie, Baronet, was an active member. The lines were ^^ laureated " by Professor David Masson at the last meeting of its members, and often quoted by him in his last years.]

I

What glamourie is thine, fair spire of stone,

Silent between this new town and that old } Art thou their child ? — for in thy face are shown

The old-w^orld faith and feeling which enfold The deep-browed castle and the palace lone. The w^hile thy form is of a later mold. The place seems thine ; and, from his rocky wall, Arthur's green hill looks to thee over all.

11

It is not that the Spirit of the Past,

With withered hairs inwreathed with rustling leaves — Her robe of yellowing eld all mossed and grassed.

Where many an elf a varying tapestry weaves,

[XXX]

THE SCOTT MONUMENT, EDINBURGH

INTRODUCTION

Around her shrinking shoulders loosely cast — Amid thy towers and turrets broods and grieves; Thy winsome grace is as a foxglove's when The summer morning sees it down the glen.

Ill

A mightier than the Spirit of the Past

Sits on a marble throne within thy shade : One at whose master-call she came, and cast

Her robe about her, and, a willing maid. Whither he went, with hushed step, followed fast, Obedient — as of that weird will afraid ; — And she became a Presence and a Power, Erst but the phantom of a ruined tower.

IV

I gaze on thee, and one sweet memory tells

Of that strange lad ^ who, all a summer's day. Herded his sheep upon the Pentland fells.

And read the mighty minstrel's border lay ; And who, to echoes of the city bells

Blending with clash of arms and fierce foray, Beheld thee there upon the hillside lone — Brandished his crook and froze thee into stone !

V

Fair spire ! methinks thou art indeed the dream The shepherd lad had of the minstrel king.

Resting in life's late gloaming by the stream Of Tweed, and listening to its murmuring —

^ George Meikle Kemp, the architect of the Scott Monument, was born at Moorfoot, Midlothian, in 1795, and in his early years helped his father, who was a shepherd there.

[ xxxii ]

BIOGRAPHICAL

Maida ^ beside him — and a golden gleam On the lone eyen, like music on a string, As slow he looks, with joy akin to sorrow, From holms of Ettrick up to heights of Yarrow.

VI

And, as he rests, the creatures of his brain

Come back, at shut of day, from everywhere. Like birds at twilight gathering home, then gain Some quiet vantage coign about him there — One on a splintered shaft from Melrose fane, One in a silent niche of sculptured stair — Finding a place to rest as each one can, On merlon, bastion, tower, and bartizan.^

VII

We know them all from dwarf to ladye gay ; —

Buirdly Rob Roy with plume and red claymore, Sweet Jeanie Deans aweary of the way.

The Harper harping of the days no more. Proud Maisie in the wood at break of day. The gentle maiden of Loch Katrine's shore, Haughty Fitz- James with gauntlet on the Gael, And honest Dinmont from his Liddesdale.

VIII

Then in this dream of stone a band appears, By one old harper, blind as Homer, led.

Golden-haired youths and hoary-headed seers. With wreath of bay and thistle round each head ;

1 Sir Walter Scott's favorite dog.

2 Each niche has a statue either of one of the leading characters in Scott's works or of one of Scotland's poets.

^ [ xxxiii ]

liNTRODUCTION

And in their van, a Saul among his peers,

The swart-eyed ploughman with the God-like tread - The poet-singers these of Scotland's fame, Yielding their glory to the larger name.

IX

So tells the poet's monument, as now

It stands, serene in air, above the town, Of him, the modest man with lofty brow,

Encanopied within his vast renown. But far away, beneath a birchen bough,

A ruin hides a grave delved deep and lowne, Where sylvan Tweed flows with a stiller wave. And makes a ceaseless requiem round the grave.

Most sweet, most sweet ! to think that there he lies, By that dear stream \\dthin that quiet grave,

DRYBURGH ABBEY, SCOTT S BURIAL PLACE

[ xxxiv ]

HISTORICAL SETTING

While all around, like cloud on cloudland rise

The woods, the moors, the heights, to which he gave A life that lives in men and never dies,

Breathing in hill, and tree, and running wave. These are his monument — those hills and woods. Where, like a dove, his spirit rests and broods.

XI

For, Spire of Stone, thy glory shall depart.

Thy statued towers and niches crumble all. The ivy creep into thy broken heart.

And mosses plait for thee a funeral pall ; But by the wizardry of God's own art The poet hath eterne memorial. In all the life of woodland, lake, and lawn, Summer and sunset, moonlight, stars, and dawn.

11. HISTORICAL SETTING OF THE LADY OF THE LAKE

Highlanders and Borderers

[From Scott's Tales of a Grandfather. This work, originally written to interest his crippled grandchild, ^^ Hugh Littlejohn " of pathetic memory, in Scottish history, remains and is likely to remain the most significant and satisfactory history of Scotland. When dreaming of these stories for ^^ little Johnnie Lockhart," Scott makes this jotting in the fournal (^' Gurnal " was his humorous spelling — ' gurn,' dialectic for ' grumble ') kept by him during the last six years of his life : '^ I am persuaded both children and the lower class of readers hate books which are written down to their capacity, and love those that are composed more for their elders and betters. I will make, if possible, a book that a child shall understand, yet a man will feel some temptation to peruse should he chance to take it up."]

[ XXXV ]

INTRODUCTION

There were two great divisions of the country, namely, the Highlands and the Borders, which were so much wilder and more barbarous than the others, that they might be said to be altogether without law ; and, although they were nominally subjected to the King of Scotland, yet when he desired to execute any justice in either of these great' districts, he could not do so otherwise than by marching there in person, at the head of a strong body of forces, and seizing upon the offenders and putting them to death with little or no form of trial. Such a rough course of justice, perhaps, made these disorderly countries quiet for a short time, but it rendered them still more averse to the royal government in their hearts, and disposed on the slightest occasion to break out, either into disorders amongst themselves or into open rebellion. I must give you some more particular account of these wild and uncivilized districts of Scotland, and of the particular sort of people who were their inhabitants, that you may know what I mean when I speak of Highlanders and Borderers.

The Highlands of Scotland, so called from the rocky and mountainous character of the countr}-, consist of a very large proportion of the northern parts ol that kingdom. It was into these pathless wildernesses that the Romans drove the ancient inhabitants of Great Britain : and it \vas from these that they afterwards sallied to invade and distress that part of Britain which the Romans had conquered, and in some degree civilized. The inhabitants of the Highlands spoke, and still speak, a language totally different from the Lowland Scots. That last language does not greatly differ from English, and the inhabitants of both countries easily understand each other, though neither of them comprehend the Gaelic, which is the language of the Highlanders. The dress of these mountaineers was also different from that of the Lowlanders.

[ xxxvi ]

HISTORICAL SETTING

They wore a plaid, or mantle of frieze, or of a striped stuff called tartan, one end of which being wrapped round the waist, formed a short petticoat, which descended to the knee, while the rest was folded round them like a sort of cloak. They had buskins made of rawhide ; and those who could get a bonnet had that covering for their heads, though many never wore one during their whole lives, but had only their own shaggy hair tied back by a leathern strap. They went always armed, carrying, bows and arrows, large swords, which they wielded with both hands, called claymores, poleaxes, and daggers for close fight. For defense, they had a round wooden shield, or target, stuck full of nails ; and their great men had shirts of mail, not unlike to the flannel shirts now worn, only composed of links of iron instead of threads of worsted ; but the common men were so far from desiring armor that they sometimes threw their plaids away and fought in their shirts, which they wore very long and large.

This part of the Scottish nation was divided into clans, that is, tribes. The persons composing each of these clans believed themselves all to be descended, at some distant period, from the same common ancestor, whose name they usually bore. Thus, one tribe was called MacDonald, which signifies the sons of Donald ; another, MacGregor, or the sons of Gregor ; MacNeil, the sons of Neil, and so on. Every one of these tribes had its own separate chief, or commander, whom they supposed to be the immediate representative of the great father of the tribe from whom they were all descended. To this chief they paid the most unlimited obediencCj and willingly followed his commands in peace or war; not caring although, in doing so, they transgressed the laws of the King, or went into rebellion against the King himself. Each tribe lived in a valley, or district of the mountains, separated from

[ xxxvii ]

INTRODUCTION

the others ; and they often made war upon, and fought desperately with, each other. But with Lowlanders they were always at war. They differed from them in language^ in dress, and " in manners ; and they believed that the richer grounds of the low country had formerly belonged to their ancestors, and therefore they made incursions upon it, and plundered it without mercy. The Lowlanders, on the other hand, equal in courage and superior in discipline, gave many severe checks to the Highlanders ; and thus there was almost constant war or discord between them, though natives of the same country.

Some of the most powerful of the Highland chiefs set them- selves up as independent sovereigns. Such were the famous Lords of the Isles, called MacDonald, to whom the island called the Hebrides, lying on the northwest of Scotland, might be said to belong in property. These petty sovereigns made alliances with the English in their own name. They took the part of Robert the Bruce in the wars and joined him with their forces. We shall find that, after his time, they gave great disturbance to Scotland. The Lords of Lorn, MacDougals by name, were also extremely powerful ; and were able to give battle to Bruce, and to defeat him, and place him in the greatest jeopardy. He revenged himself afterwards by driving John of Lorn out of the country, and by giving great part of his possessions to his own nephew. Sir Colin Campbell, who became the first of the great family of Argyll, which afterwards enjoyed such power in the Highlands.

Upon the whole, you can easily understand that these High- land clans, living among such high and inaccessible mountains, and paying obedience to no one save their own chiefs, should have been very instrumental in disturbing the tranquillity of the kingdom of Scotland. They had many virtues, being a

[ xxxviii ]

HISTORICAL SETTING

kind, brave, and hospitable people, and remarkable for their fidelity to their chiefs ; but they were restless, revengeful, fo.id of plunder, and delighting rather in war than in peace, in disorder than in repose.

The Border counties were in a state little more favorable to a quiet or peaceful government. In some respects the inhab- itants of the counties of Scotland lying opposite to England greatly resembled the Highlanders, and particularly in their being, like them, divided into clans, and having chiefs whom they obeyed in preference to the King, or the officers whom he placed among them. How clanship came to prevail in the Highlands and Borders, and not in the provinces which sepa- rated them from each other, it is not easy to conjecture, but the fact was so. The Borders are not, indeed, so mountainous and inaccessible a country as the Highlands ; but they also are full of hills, especially on the more w^estern part of the frontier, and were in early times covered with forests, and divided by small rivers and morasses into dales and valleys, where the different clans lived, making war sometimes on the English, sometimes on each other, and sometimes on the more civilized country which lay behind them.

But though the Borderers resembled the Highlanders in their mode of government and habits of plundering, and, as it may be truly added, in their disobedience to the general government of Scotland, yet they differed in many particulars. The High- landers fought always on foot ; the Borderers were all horsemen. The Borderers spoke the same language [as] the Lowlanders, wore the same sort of dress, and carried the same arms. Being accustomed to fight against the English, they were also much better disciplined than the Highlanders. But in point of obedi- ence to the Scottish government, they were not much different from the clans of the north.

[ xxxix ]

INTRODUCTION

Military officers, called Wardens, were appointed along the Borders, to keep these unruly people in order; but as these wardens were generally themselves chiefs of clans, they did not do much to mend the evil. Robert the Bruce committed great part of the charge of the Borders to the good Lord James of Douglas, who fulfilled his trust with great fidelity. But the power which the family of Douglas thus acquired proved afterwards, in the hands of his successors, very dangerous to the crown of Scotland.

The Highlanders continued to lead this same marauding kind of life, owning no allegiance to any power except that of their chief, until about the year 1745, when Charles Edward, the last of the Stuarts, made a most desperate attempt to regain the throne of his grandfather, James II.

The Highland clans had remained loyal to the Stuarts dur- ing all their misfortunes, and when this brave young prince, trusting to their fidelity, landed almost alone upon their shores, they flocked to his standard in great numbers.

They were successful in the earlier engagements, but finally, in the battle of Culloden, were utterly defeated, the bravest of the clans, together with their chiefs, being slain on the field. The government followed up its victory with unrelenting cruelty, slaughtering the fugitives, executing the prisoners, and laying waste the country, being determined to crush out the last spark of this power that had for so many centuries disturbed the peace of both kingdoms.

Fine military roads were built into those inaccessible glens and wild mountains, enabling the government to execute the laws throughout the realm. Severe laws, also, were passed, forbidding the wearing of the plaid, the national costume, and the bearing of arms.

These measures were entirely successful in breaking down this patriarchal system ; and, although they seemed unnecessarily

[xl]

HISTORICAL SETTING

harsh at the time, in the end they proved wise and beneficent. The Highlanders, no longer able to subsist on plundering the Lowlanders, were obliged to turn their attention to some other means of gaining a living. Some emigrated to America, others enlisted in foreign armies, but the great majority settled down to an agricultural life. Mingling together in peaceful pursuits, the difference between Highlander and Lowlander soon disap- peared, and they became one people, prosperous and happy.

James V of Scotland (15 12-1542)

James V [James Fitz-James of The Lady of the Lake\ was the son of James IV of Scotland, and Margaret, sister of Henry VIII of England. His father having lost his life on the battlefield of Flodden, the son became king when but a child of less than two years of age. For a while, his mother managed the affairs of the kingdom as regent ; but, becoming unpopular, she not only lost the regency, but also the control of her son, who fell into the hands of the powerful family of the Douglases, who, although governing in the name of the young King, neverthe- less kept him under such careful guard that the restraint became very irksome to him, and he determined to escape from their power. In two attempts by force he was unsuccessful ; but finally, on pretense of going hunting, he escaped from his cap- tivity, and fled into the strong fortress of Stirling Castle, whose governor was friendly to him. Here he assembled around him the numerous nobility favorable to him, and threatened to declare a traitor any of the name of Douglas who should approach within twelve miles of his person, or who should attempt to meddle with the administration of government. He retained, ever after, this implacable resentment against the Douglases, not permitting one of the name to settle in Scotland while he lived. James was especially ungenerous to one Archibald Douglas of Kilspindie,

[xli]

INTRODUCTION

the one mentioned in the poem who had been a favorite of the young King. He was noted for great strength, manly appear- ance, and skill in all kinds of exercises. When an old man, becoming tired of his exile in England, he resolved to try the King's mercy, thinking that, as he had not personally offended James, he might find favor on account of their old intimacy. He therefore threw himself in the King's way one day as he returned from hunting in the Park at Stirling. Although it was several years since James had seen him, he knew him at a great distance by his firm and stately step. When they met he showed no sign of recognizing his old servant. Douglas turned, hoping still to obtain a glance of favorable recollection, and ran along by the King's side ; and, although James trotted his horse hard, and Douglas wore a heavy shirt of mail, yet he reached the castle gate as soon as the King. James passed by him, with- out the slightest sign of recognition, and entered the castle. Douglas, exhausted, sat down at the gate and asked for a cup of wine ; but no domestic dared to offer it. The King, how- ever, blamed this discourtesy in his servants, saying that, but for his oath, he would have received Archibald into his service. Yet he sent his command for him to retire to France, where the old man soon died of a broken heart.

Freed from the stern control of the Douglas family, James V now began to exercise the government in person, and displayed most of the qualities of a wise and good prince. He was hand- some in his person, and resembled his father in the fondness for military exercises and the spirit of chivalrous honor which James IV loved to display. He also inherited his father's love of justice, and his desire to establish and enforce wise and equal laws which should protect the weak against the oppres- sion of the great. It was easy enough to make laws, but to put them in vigorous exercise was of much greater diflficulty ;

[xlii]

HISTORICAL SETTING

and, in his attempt to accomplish this laudable purpose, James often incurred the ill will of the more powerful nobles. He was a well-educated and accomplished man, and, like his ancestor, James I, was a poet and musician. He had, however, his defects. He avoided his father's failing of profusion, having no hoarded treasures to employ on pomp and show ; but he rather fell into the opposite fault, being of a temper too parsi- monious ; and though he loved state and display he endeavored to gratify that taste as economically as possible, so that he has been censured as rather close and covetous. He was also, though ihe foibles seem inconsistent, fond of pleasure, and disposed to too much indulgence. It must be added that, when provoked, he was unrelenting even to cruelty ; for which he had some apology, considering the ferocity of the subjects over whom he reigned. But on the whole James V was an amiable man and a good sovereign.

His first care was to bring the Borders of Scotland to some degree of order. As before stated, these were inhabited by tribes of men, forming each a different clan, as they were called, and obeying no orders save those which were given by their chiefs. These chiefs were supposed to represent the first founder of the name or family. The attachment of the clansmen to the chief was very great ; indeed, they paid respect to no one else. In this the Borderers agreed with the Highlanders, as also in their love of plunder and neglect of the general laws of the country. But the Border men wore no tartan dress, and served almost always on horseback, whereas the Highlanders acted always on foot. The Borderers spoke the Scottish language, and not the Gaelic tongue used by the mountaineers.

The situation of these clans on the frontiers exposed them to constant war; so that they thought of nothing else but

[ xliii ]

INTRODUCTION

of collecting bands of their followers together, and making incursions, without much distinction, on the English, on the Lowland (or inland) Scots, or upon each other. They paid little respect either to times of truce or treaties of peace, but exercised their depredations without regard to either, and often occasioned wars bet^vixt England and Scotland which would not otherwise have taken place.

James's first step was to secure the persons of the principal chieftains by whom these disorders were privately encouraged, and who might have opposed his purposes, and imprison them in separate fortresses.

He then assembled an army, in which warlike purposes were united with those of sylvan sport ; for he ordered all the gentle- men in the wild districts which he intended to visit to bring in their best dogs, as if his only purpose had been to hunt the deer in those desolate regions. This was intended to prevent the Borderers from taking the alarm, in which case they would have retreated into their mountains and fastnesses, from whence it would have been difficult to dislodge them.

These men had indeed no distinct idea of the offenses which they had committed, and consequently no apprehension of the King's displeasure against them. The laws had been so long silent in that remote and disorderly countr}', that the outrages which were practiced by the strong against the weak seemed to the perpetrators the natural course of societ}', and to present nothing that was worthy of punishment. Thus the King sud- denly approached the castles of these great lords and barons while they were preparing a great entertainment to welcome him, and caused them to be seized and executed.

There is reason to censure the extent to which James carried his severity, as being to a certain degree impolitic and beyond doubt cruel and excessive.

[xliv]

HISTORICAL SETTING

In the like manner James proceeded against the Highland chiefs, and by executions, forfeitures, and other severe meas- ures he brought the Northern mountaineers, as he had already done those of the South, into comparative subjection.

Such were the effects of the terror struck by these general executions that James was said to have made ^^ the rush bush keep the cow " ; that is to say, that, even in this lawless part of the country, men dared no longer make free with property, and cattle might remain on their pastures unwatched. James was also enabled to draw profit from the lands which the crown possessed near the Borders, and is said to have had ten thou- sand sheep at one time grazing in Ettrick forest under the keeping of one Andrew Bell, who gave the King as good an account of the flock as if they had been grazing in the bounds of Fife, then the most civilized part of Scotland.

James V had a custom of going about the country disguised as a private person in order that he might hear complaints which might not otherwise reach his ears, and, perhaps, that he might enjoy amusement which he could not have partaken of in his avowed royal character.

He was also very fond of hunting, and when he pursued that amusement in the Highlands he used to wear the peculiar dress of that country, having a long and wide Highland shirt, and a jacket of tartan velvet, with plaid hose, and everything else corresponding.

The reign of James V was not alone distinguished by his per- sonal adventures and pastimes, but is honorably remembered on account of wise laws made for the government of his people, and for restraining the crimes and violence which were frequently practiced among them ; especially those of assassination, burning of houses, and driving of cattle, the usual and ready means by which powerful chiefs avenged themselves on their feudal enemies.

[xlv]

INTRODUCTION

Had not James become involved in a war with Henry VIII of England, he might have been as fortunate a prince as his many good qualities deserved ; but, the war going against him, in despair and desolation he shut himself up in his palace, re- fusing to listen to consolation. A burning fever, the consequence of his grief and shame, seized on the unfortunate monarch. When they brought him tidings that his wife had given birth to a daughter, who afterwards became the brilliant, but most unfortunate, Mary Queen of Scots, he only replied, '^ Is it so ? " reflecting on the alliance which had placed the Stuart family on the throne ; ^' then God's will be done. It came with a lass, and it will go with a lass." With these words, presaging the extinc- tion of his house, he made a signal of adieu to his courtiers, spoke little more, but turned his face to the wall and, when scarcely thirty-one years old, in the very prime of life, he died of the most melancholy of all diseases, a broken heart.

III. LITERARY APPRECIATION

Robert Louis Stevenson in A Gossip on Roma?ice refers to the ^Mirect romantic opening" of The Lady of the Lake — ^^ The stag at eve had drunk his fill," — as '' one of the most spirited and poetical in literature." ^' Even after we have flung the book aside, the scenery and adventures remain present to the mind, a new and green possession, not unworthy of that beautiful name, The Lady of the Lake.^^ To Scott as to Stevenson every landscape or scrap of scenery has a soul, and that soul is a story, and this is at the heart of the romanticism of both. No work of Scott's reveals more intimately the spirit and manner of his approach to a subject than this metrical romance which, to adapt one of Andrew Lang's telling figures, opened the enchanted gate of the Trossachs to all the world. Everywhere is revealed that humble and unselfish love of nature which makes

[ xlvi ]

LITERARY APPRECI ATlOiN

Scott's enjoyment of hill and dale, woodland and lake, greater than that of any of his famous contemporaries. There is pro- found truth in Ruskin's delicate analysis of Scott's love of nature, in the third volume of Modern Painters^ introduced by the fancied soliloquy : '' I, Scott, am nothing, and less than nothing ; but these crags, and heaths, and clouds, how great they are, how lovely, how forever to be beloved, only for their own silent thoughtless sake ! " Nature, as Ruskin says, was dear to Scott in a threefold way : dear to him, first, as contain- ing the remains and memories of the past ; dear, too, in its moorland liberty ; and dear because of that perfect beauty for which every modern heart had begun to thirst. In this love of beauty, joy in color is a noteworthy constituent. No poet, as Stopford Brooke reiterates, is a finer colorist than Scott, and in this he continues and gathers up into such glowdng description as that of Loch Katrine at the beginning of the Third Canto, the old Scottish passion for color effects which is characteristic of Gavin Douglas and William Dunbar.

Along with the superb description of natural scenery and the power of the narrative, which finds characteristic expression in the well-balanced octosyllabic verse,^ — verse that bears the reader on with the go and the spring of a high-mettled but thoroughly mastered horse, — The Lady of the Lake is of high ethical temper, '' everywhere pervasive, nowhere emphatic." Here, as in the earlier poems and the Waverley Novels, is that high, inbred, in- disputable ideal of honor in men and women which is found in Homer, Virgil, and Dante. With regard to this, Ruskin again has hit the white in Fors Clavigera and Modern Painters, and his vision and appreciation of these ethical elements in Scott deepened with his experience of life. At the last, when he was

1 See notes on the versification of the poem at the close of this volume, page 202.

[ ^^vii ]

INTRODUCTION

laying down his pen forever, Ruskin wrote in Praeterita : ** The first two of his great poems, The Lay of the Last Minstrel and Marmion, are the reanimation of Border legends, closing with the truest and grandest battle-piece that, so far as I know, exists in the whole compass of literature (I include the literature of all foreign languages, so far as known to me : there is noth- ing to approach the finished delineation and flawless majesty of conduct in Scott's Flodden) ; — the absolutely fairest in justice to both contending nations, the absolutely most beautiful in its conceptions of both. And that the palm in that conception remains with the Scotch, through the sorrow of their defeat, is no more than accurate justice to the national character, which rose from the fraternal branches of the Douglas of Tan- tallon and the Douglas of Dunkeld. But, — between Tantallon and Dunkeld, — what moor or mountain is there over which the purple cloud of Scott's imagination has not wrapt its light, in those two great poems? — followed by the entirely heroic en- chantment of The Lady of the Lake, dwelling on the Highland virtue which gives the strength of clanship, and the Lowland honor of knighthood, founded on the Catholic religion.''

IV. SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION

\The Lady of the Lake was begun in 1809. During the summer of that year Scott visited all the glens, mountains, and forest lands described or mentioned in the poem, regions already familiar to him from his wanderings there in vacation times when he was a lad at college or in his first years as an advocate fthat is. barrister-at-law) in active practice. The Perthshire Highlands and the Border district of Liddesdale. into which he made the first of what he loved to call his ^' raids ** in i 792, were his two supreme passions in Scottish landscape. The Introduction which follows was written for the edition of 1830, published in connection with a re-issue of his complete works in verse and prose.]

[ xlviii ]

SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION

After the success of Marmion^ I felt inclined to exclaim with Ulysses in the Odyssey :

OvTos [xkv Srj aeOXos aaaros iKTeriXecTTaL.

Nrv a?T€ (TKOTTov aWoV' Odys. xxii, 5

One venturous game my hand has won today — Another, gallants, yet remains to play.

The ancient manners, the habits and customs of the aborigi- nal race by whom the Highlands of Scotland were inhabited, had always appeared to me peculiarly adapted to poetry. The change in their manners, too, had taken place almost within my own time, or at least I had learned many particulars con- cerning the ancient state of the Highlands from the old men of the last generation. I had always thought the old Scottish Gael highly adapted for poetical composition. The feuds and political dissensions which, half a century earlier, would have rendered the richer and wealthier part of the kingdom indisposed to coun- tenance a poem the scene of which was laid in the Highlands, were now sunk in the generous compassion which the English more than any other nation feel for the misfortunes of an honorable foe. The poems of Ossian had by their popularity sufficiently shown that if writings on Highland subjects were qualified to interest the reader, mere national prejudices were, in the present day, very unlikely to interfere with their success.

I had also read a great deal, seen much, and heard more, of that romantic country where I was in the habit of spending some time every autumn; and the scenery of Loch Katrine was connected with the recollection of many a dear friend and merry expedition of former days. This poem, the action of which lay among scenes so beautiful and so deeply imprinted on my recollections, was a labor of love, and it was no less so to recall the manners and incidents introduced. The frequent B [ xlix ]

INTRODUCTION

custom of James IV, and particularly of James V, to walk through the kingdom in disguise, afforded me the hint of an incident which never fails to be interesting if managed with the slightest address or dexterity.

I may now confess, however, that the employment, though attended with great pleasure, was not without its doubts and anxieties. A lady, to whom I was nearly related, and with whom I lived, during her whole life, on the most brotherly terms of affection, was residing with me at the time when the work was in progress, and used to ask me what I could pos- sibly do to rise so early in the morning (that happening to be the most convenient to me for composition). At last I told her the subject of my meditations ; and I can never forget the anxiety and affection expressed in her reply. ^^ Do not be so rash," she said, '^ my dearest cousin. You are already popu- lar, — more so, perhaps, than you yourself will believe, or than even I, or other partial friends, can fairly allow to your merit. You stand high, — do not rashly attempt to climb higher, and incur the risk of a fall ; for, depend upon it, a favorite will not be permitted even to stumble with impunity." I replied to this affectionate expostulation in the words of Montrose, —

"He either fears his fate too much. Or his deserts are small. Who dares not put it to the touch To gain or lose it all.

^^Ifl fail," I said, for the dialogue is strong in my recollec- tion, " it is a sign that I ought never to have succeeded, and I will write prose for life ; you shall see no change in my temper, nor will I eat a single meal the worse. But if I succeed, —

" Up with the bonnie blue bonnet, The dirk, and the feather, and a' ! "

[1]

SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION

Afterwards I showed my affectionate and anxious critic the first canto of the poem, which reconciled her to my imprudence. Nevertheless, though I answered thus confidently, with the obstinacy often said to be proper to those who bear my sur- name, I acknowledge that my confidence was considerably shaken by the warning of her excellent taste and unbiased friendship. Nor was I much comforted by her retraction of the unfavorable judgment, when I recollected how likely a natural partiality was to effect that change of opinion. In such cases affection rises like a light on the canvas, improves any favorable tints which it formerly exhibited, and throws its defects into the shade.

I remember that about the same time a friend started in to ^* heeze up my hope," like the ^^ sportsman with his cutty gun,'' in the old song. He was bred a farmer, but a man of powerful understanding, natural good taste, and warm poetical feeling, perfectly competent to supply the w^ants of an imperfect or irregular education. He was a passionate admirer of field sports, which we often pursued together.

As this friend happened to dine with me at Ashestiel one day, I took the opportunity of reading to him the first canto of The Lady of the Lake, in order to ascertain the effect the poem was likely to produce upon a person who was but too favorable a representative of readers at large. It is of course to be sup- posed that I determined rather to guide my opinion by what my friend might appear to feel, than by what he might think fit to say. His reception of my recitation, or prelection, was rather singular. He placed his hand across his brow, and listened with great attention, through the whole account of the stag hunt, till the dogs threw themselves into the lake to follow their master, who embarks with Ellen Douglas. He then started up with a sudden exclamation, struck his hand on the table,

[li]

INTRODUCTION

and declared, in a voice of censure calculated for the occasion, that the dogs must have been totally ruined by being permitted to take the water after such a severe chase. I own I was much encouraged by the species of reverie which had possessed so zealous a follower of the sports of the ancient Nimrod, who had been completely surprised out of all doubts of the reality of the tale. Another of his remarks gave me less pleasure. He de- tected the identity of the king with the wandering knight, Fitz- James, when he winds his bugle to summon his attendants. . . .

This discovery, as Mr. Pepys says of the rent in his camlet cloak, was but a trifle, yet it troubled me ; and I was at a good deal of pains to efface any marks by which I thought my secret could be traced before the conclusion, when I relied on it with the same hope of producing effect, with w^hich the Irish post- boy is said to reserve a '' trot for the avenue.''

I took uncomxmon pains to verify the accuracy of the local circumstances of this story. I recollect, in particular, that to ascertain whether I was telling a probable tale I went into Perthshire, to see whether King James could actually have ridden from the Banks to Loch Vennachar to Stirling Castle within the time supposed in the poem, and had the pleasure to satisfy myself that it was quite practicable.

After a considerable delay The Lady of the Lake appeared in June, 1 8 1 o ; and its success was certainly so extraordinary as to induce me for the moment to conclude that I had at last fixed a nail in the proverbially inconstant wheel of Fortune, whose stability in behalf of an individual who had so boldly courted her favors for three successive times had not as yet been shaken. I had attained, perhaps, that degree of reputa- tion at which prudence, or certainly timidity, would have made a halt and discontinued efforts by which I was far more likely to diminish my fame than to increase it. But, as the celebrated

[lii]

SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION

John Wilkes is said to have explained to his late Majesty, that he himself, amid his full tide of popularity, was never a Wilkite, so I can, with honest truth, exculpate myself from having been at any time a partisan of my own poetry, even when it was in the highest fashion with the million. It must not be supposed that I was either so ungrateful or so superabundantly candid as to despise or scorn the value of those whose voice had elevated me so much higher than my own opinion told me I deserved. I felt, on the contrary, the more grateful to the public, as receiving that from partiality to me, which I could not have claimed from merit ; and I endeavored to deserve the partiality by continuing such exertions as I was capable of for their amusement.

It may be that I did not, in this continued course of scribbling, consult either the interest of the public or my own. But the former had effectual means of defending themselves, and could, by their coldness, sufficiently check any approach to intrusion ; and for myself, I had now for several years dedicated my hours so much to literary labor that I should have felt difficulty in employing myself otherwise; and so, like Dogberry, I gen- erously bestowed all my tediousness on the public, comforting myself with the reflection that, if posterity should think me undeserving of the favor with which I was regarded by my contemporaries, '^ they could not but say I had the crown," and had enjoyed for a time that popularity which is so much coveted.

I conceived, however, that I held the distinguished situation I had obtained, however unworthily, rather like the champion of pugilism, on the condition of being always ready to show proofs of my skill, than in the manner of the champion of chivalry, who performs his duties only on rare and solemn occasions. I was in any case conscious that I could not long

[liii]

INTRODUCTION

hold a situation which the caprice rather than the judgment of the public had bestowed upon me, and preferred being deprived of my precedence by some more worthy rival, to sinking into contempt for my indolence, and losing my reputation by what Scottish lawyers call the negative prescription. Accordingly, those who choose to look at the Introduction to Rokeby will be able to trace the steps by which I declined as a poet to figure as a novelist ; as the ballad says, '^ Queen Eleanor sunk at Charing Cross to rise again at Queenhithe."

It only remains for me to say that, during my short preemi-. nence of popularity, I faithfully observed the rules of modera- tion which I had resolved to follow before I began my course as a man of letters. If a man is determined to make a noise in the world, he is sure to encounter abuse and ridicule, as he who gallops furiously through a village must reckon on being followed by the curs in full cry. Experienced persons know that in stretching to flog the latter, the rider is very apt to catch a bad fall ; nor is an attempt to chastise a malignant critic attended with less danger to the author. On this principle, I let parody, burlesque, and squibs find their own level; and while the latter hissed most fiercely, I was cautious never to catch them up, as schoolboys do, to throw them back against the naughty boy who fired them off, wisely remembering that they are in such cases apt to explode in the handling. Let me add that my reign (since Byron has so called it) was marked by some instances of good nature as well as patience. I never refused a literary person of merit such services in smoothing his way to the public as were in my power ; and I had the advantage — rather an uncommon one with our irritable race — to enjoy general favor without incurring permanent ill-will, so far as is known to me, among any of my contemporaries.

Abbotsford, April, 1830

[liv]

ORIGINAL DEDICATION AND ARGUMENT

V. SCOTT'S ORIGINAL DEDICATION AND ARGUMENT

Dedication

TO THE

MOST NOBLE

JOHN JAMES

MARQUIS OF ABERCORN

&C., &C., &C.

THIS POEM IS INSCRIBED

BY

THE AUTHOR

Argument

The scene of the following Poem is laid chiefly in the vicinity of Loch Katrine, in the Western Highlands of Perthshire. The time of Action includes Six Days, and the transactions of each Day occupy a Canto.

[Iv]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

CANTO FIRST

THE CHASE

ARP of the North ! that mouldering long hast hung ^L On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring, And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, Till envious ivy did around thee cling. Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep ? Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring, Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep.

Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep ?

Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon,

Was thy voice rnute amid the festal crowd,

When lay of hopeless love, or glory won. Aroused the fearful or subdued the proud. At each according pause was heard aloud

[I]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Thine ardent symphony sublime and high ! 15

Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed ; For still the burden of thy mingtr^y Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye. . ■

O, wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand -^'

That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; 20

O, wake once more ! though scarce my skill command Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay : Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away,

And all unworthy of thy nobler strain,

Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, 25

The wizard note has not been touched in vain.

Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again !

I

The stag at eve had drunk his fill,

Where danced the moon on Monan's rill.

And deep his midnight lair had made 30

In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ;

But when the sun his beacon red

Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head.

The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay

Resounded up the rocky way, 35

And faint, from farther distance borne.

Were heard the clanging hoof and horn.

II

As Chief, who hears his warder call, 'To arms! the foemen storm the wall,'

[2]

i

FIRST] THE CHASE

The antlered monarch of the waste 40

Sprung from his heathery couch in haste.

But ere his fleet career he took,

The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ;

Like crested leader proud and high

Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky ; 45

A moment gazed adown the dale,

A moment scuffed the tainted gale,

A moment listened to the cry.

That thickened as the chase drew nigh ;

Then, as the headmost foes appeared, 50

With one brave bound the copse he cleared.

And, stretching forward free'^nd far.

Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.

III

Yelled on the view the opening pack ;

Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back ; 55

To many a mingled sound at once

The awakened mountain gave response.

A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong,

Clattered a hundred steeds along,

Their peal the merry horns rung out, 60

A hundred voices joined the shout ;

With hark and whoop and wild halloo.

No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew.

Far from the tumult fled the roe.

Close in her covert cowered the doe, 65

The falcon^ from her cairn on high.

Cast on the rout a wondering eye,

'^ [3]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Till far beyond her piercing ken

The hurricane had swept the glen.

Faint, and more faint, its failing din 70

Returned from cavern, cliff, and Hnn,

And silence settled, wide and still,

On the lone wood and mi^htv hill.

IV

Less loud the sounds of sylvan war

Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 75

And roused the cavern where, 'tis told,

-A giant made his den of old ;

For ere that steep ascent was won,

High in his pathway hung the sun.

And many a gallant, stayed perforce, 80

Was fain to breathe his faltering horse.

And of the trackers of the deer

Scarce half the lessening pack was near ;

So shrewdly on the mountain-side

Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 85

The noble stag was pausing now

L'pon the mountain's southern brow,

Where broad extended, far beneath.

The varied realms of fair Menteith.

With anxious eye he wandered o'er 90

Mountain and meadow, moss and moor,

And pondered refuge from his toil.

By far Lochard or Aberfoyle.

[4]

FIRST] THE CHASE

But nearer was the copsewood gray That waved and wept on Loch Achray, 95

And mingled with the pine-trees blue On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. Fresh vigor with the hope returned, With flying foot the heath he spurned, Held westward with unwearied race, 100

^And left behind the panting chase. .

VI

Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er,

As swept the hunt through Cambusmore ;

What reins w^ere tightened in despair.

When rose Benledi's ridge in air ; 105

Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath,

Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith, —

For twice that day, from shore to shore.

The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er.

Few were the stragglers, following far, no

That reached the lake of Vennachar ;

And when the Brigg of Turk was won,

The headmost horseman rode alone.

VII

Alone, but with unbated zeal.

That horseman plied the scourge and steel ; 115

For jaded now, and spent with toil.

Embossed with foam, and dark with soil.

While every gasp with sobs he drew,

The laboring stag strained full in view»

[5]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, 120

Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed.

Fast on his flying traces came.

And all but won that desperate game ;

F"or, scarce a spear's length from his haunch,

Vindictive toiled the bloodhounds stanch ; 125

Nor nearer might the dogs attain,

Nor farther might the quarry strain.

Thus up the margin of the lake,

Between the precipice and brake,

O'er stock and rock their race they take. 130

VIII

The Hunter marked that mountain high,

The lone lake's western boundary,

And deemed the stag must turn to bay.

Where that huge rampart barred the way ;

Already glorying in the prize, 135

Measured his antlers with his eyes ;

For the death-wound and death-halloo

Mustered his breath, his whinyard drew : —

But thundering as he came prepared,

With ready arm and weapon bared, 140

The wily quarry shunned the shock,

And turned him from the opposing rock :

Then, dashing down a darksome glen,

Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken,

In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 145

His solitary refuge took.

[6]

FIRST] THE CHASE

There, while close couched the thicket shed

Cold dews and wild flowers on his head,

He heard the baffled dogs in vain

Rave through the hollow pass amain, 150

Chiding the rocks that yelled again.

IX

Close on the hounds the Hunter came,

To cheer them on the vanished game ;

But, stumbling in the rugged dell.

The gallant horse exhausted fell. 155

The impatient rider strove in vain

To rouse him with his spur and rein.

For the good steed, his labors o'er.

Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more ;

Then, touched with pity and remorse, 160

He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse.

' I little thought, when first thy rein

I slacked upon the banks of Seine,

That Highland eagle e'er should feed

On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! 165

Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day.

That costs thy life, my gallant gray ! '

X

Then through the dell his horn resounds.

From vain pursuit to call the hounds.

Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, 170

The sulky leaders of the chase ;

[7]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Close to their master's side they pressed,

With drooping tail and humbled crest ;

But still the dingle's hollow throat

Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. 175

The owlets started from their dream,

The eagles answered with their scream,

Round and around the sounds were cast.

Till echo seemed an answering blast ;

And on the Hunter hied his way, 180

To join some comrades of the day,

Yet often paused, so strange the road.

So wondrous were the scenes it showed.

XI

The western waves of ebbing day Rolled o'er the glen their level way; 185

Each purple peak, each flinty spire. Was bathed in floods of living fire. But not a setting beam could glow Within the dark ravines below. Where twined the path in shadow hid, 190

Round many a rocky pyramid. Shooting abruptly from the dell Its thunder-splintered pinnacle ; Round many an insulated mass. The native bulwarks of the pass, 195

Huge as the tower which builders vain Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. The rocky summits, split and rent. Formed turret, dome, or battlement, E8]

THE CHASE

Or seemed fantastically set 200

With cupola or minaret,

Wild crests as pagod ever decked,

Or mosque of Eastern architect.

Nor were these earth-born castles bare,

Nor lacked they many a banner fair ; 205

7 or, from their shivered brows displayed,

Far o'er the unfathomable glade, -

All twinkling with the dewdrop sheen.

The brier-rose fell in streamers green.

And creeping shrubs of thousand dyes 210

Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs.

XII

Boon nature scattered, free and wild.

Each plant or flower, the mountain's child.

Here eglantine embalmed the air,

Hawthorne and hazel mingled there; 215

The primrose pale and violet flower

Found in each cleft a narrow bower ;

Foxglove and nightshade, side by side,

Emblems of punishment and pride.

Grouped their dark hues with every stain 220

The weather-beaten crags retain.

With boughs that quaked at every breath,

Gray birch and aspen wept beneath ;

Aloft, the ash and warrior oak

Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; 225

And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung

His shattered trunk, and frequent flung,

[9]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Where seemed the cHffs to meet on high,

His boughs athwart the narrowed sky.

Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, 230

Where glistening streamers waved and danced,

The wanderer's eye could barely view

The summer heaven's delicious blue;

So wondrous wild, the whole might seem

The scenery of a fairy dream. 235

XIII

Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep

A narrow inlet, still and deep,

Affording scarce such breadth of brim

As served the wild duck's brood to swim.

Lost for a space, through thickets veering, 240

But broader when again appearing.

Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face

Could on the dark-blue mirror trace ;

And farther as the Hunter strayed.

Still broader sweep its channels made. 245

The shaggy mounds no longer stood.

Emerging from entangled wood.

But, wave-encircled, seemed to float,

Like castle girdled with its moat ;

Yet broader floods extending still 250

Divide them from their parent hill.

Till each, retiring, claims to be

An islet in an inland sea.

[10]

FIRST] THE GHASE

XIV

And now, to issue from the glen,

No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, 255

Unless he climb with footing nice

A far-projecting precipice.

The broom's tough roots his ladder made,

The hazel saplings lent their aid ;

And thus an airy point he won, 260

Where, gleaming with the setting sun,

One burnished sheet of living gold,

Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled^

In all her length far winding lay.

With promontory, creek, and bay, 265

And islands that, empurpled bright,

Floated amid the livelier light,

And mountains that like giants stand

To sentinel enchanted land.

High on the south, huge Benvenue 270

Down to the lake in masses threw

Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled.

The fragments of an earlier world ;

A wildering forest feathered o'er

His ruined sides and summit hoar, 275

While on the north, through middle air,

Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare.,-

From -the steep promontory gazed— : z.:::z3 The stranger; raptured and amazed;- i.:..C'3

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

And, 'What a scene were here,' he cried, 2S0

' For princely pomp or churchman's pride !

On this bold brow, a lordly tower ;

In that soft vale, a lady's bower ;

On vonder meadow far awav,

The turrets of a cloister gray ; 285

How blithely might the bugle-horn

Chide on the lake the lingering mom !

How sweet at eve the lover's lute

Chime when the groves were still and mute !

And when the midnight moon should lave 290

Her forehead in the silver wave,

How solemn on the ear would come

The holy matins' distant hum,

While the deep peal's commanding tone

Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 295

A sainted hermit from his cell.

To drop a bead with ever}' knell !

And bugle, lute, and bell, and all.

Should each bewildered stranger call

To friendly feast and lighted hall. yx^

XVI

' Blithe were it then to wander here !

But now — beshrew yon nimble deer —

Like that same hermit's, thin and spare.

The copse must give my evening fare ;

Some mossy bank my couch must be, 505

^om? pistljj)g jDok my cBCU>pyi

FIRST] THE CHASE

Yet pass we that ; the war and chase

Give Httle choice of resting-place ; —

A summer night in greenwood spent

Were but to-morrow's merriment : 310

But hosts may in these wilds abound,

Such as are better missed than found ;

To meet with Highland plunderers here

Were worse than loss of steed or deer. —

I am alone; — my bugle-strain 315

May call some straggler of the train ;

Or, fall the worst that may betide.

Ere now this falchion has been tried.

XVII

But scarce again his horn he wound,

When lo ! forth starting at the sound, 320

From underneath an aged oak

That slanted from the islet rock,

A damsel guider of its way,

A little skiff shot to the bay.

That round the promontory steep 325

Led its deep line in graceful sweep,

Eddying, in almost viewless wave.

The weeping willow twig to lave.

And kiss, with whispering sound and slow,

The beach of pebbles bright as snow. 330

The boat had touched this silver strand

Just as the Hunter left his stand,

And stood concealed amid the brake.

To view this Lady of the Lake.

[13]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

The maiden paused, as if again 335

She thought to catch the distant strain.

With head upraised, and look intent.

And eye and ear attentive bent.

And locks flung back, and lips apart,

Like monument of Grecian art, 340

In listening mood, she seemed to stand,

The-guardian Naiad of the strand.

XVIII

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace

A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace,

Of finer form or lovelier face ! 345

What though the sun, with ardent frown,

Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, —

The sportive toil, which, short and light.

Had dyed her glowing hue so bright.

Served too in hastier swell to show 350

Short glimpses of a breast of snow :

What though no rule of courtly grace

To measured mood had trained her pace, —

A foot more light, a step more true.

Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew ; 355

E'en the slight harebell raised* its head.

Elastic from her airy tread :

What though upon her speech there hung

The accents of the mountain tongue, —

Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, 360

The listener held his breath to hear !

[14]

FIRST] THE CHASE

XIX

A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid ;

Her satin snood, her silken plaid,

Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed.

And seldom was a snood amid 365

Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid.

Whose glossy black to shame might bring

The plumage of the raven's wing ;

And seldom o'er a breast so fair

Mantled a plaid with modest care, 370

And never brooch the folds combined

Above a heart more good and kind.

Her kindness and her worth to spy,

You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ;

Not Katrine in her mirror blue 375

Gives back the shaggy banks more true.

Than every free-born glance confessed

The guileless movements of her breast;

Whether joy danced in her dark eye,

Or woe or pity claimed a sigh, 380

Or filial love was glowing there,

Or meek devotion poured a prayer,

Or tail of injury called forth

The indignant spirit of the North.

One only passion unrevealed 385

With maiden pride the maid concealed,^

Yet not less purely felt the flame ; —

O, need I tell that passion's name ?

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

XX

Impatient of the silent horn,

Now on the gale her voice was borne : — 390

' Father ! ' she cried ; the rocks around

Loved to prolong the gentle sound.

Awhile she paused, no answer came ; —

' Malcolm, was thine the blast ? ' the name

Less resolutely uttered fell, 395

The echoes could not catch the swell.

*A stranger I,' the Huntsman said,

Advancing from the hazel shade.

The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar

Pushed her light shallop from the shore, 400

And when a space was gained between,

Closer she drew her bosom's screen ; —

So forth the startled swan would swing.

So turn to prune his ruffled wing.

Then safe, though fluttered and amazed, 405

She paused, and on the stranger gazed.

Not his the form, nor his the eye,

That youthful maidens wont to fly.

XXI

On his bold visage middle age

Had slightly pressed its signet sage, 410

Yet had not quenched the open truth

And fiery vehemence of youth ;

Forward and frolic glee was there,

The will to do, the soul to dare,

[16]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 415

Of hasty love or headlong ire.

His limbs were cast in manly mould

For hardy sports or contest bold ;

And though in peaceful garb arrayed,

And weaponless except his blade, 420

His stately mien as well implied

A high-born heart, a martial pride.

As if a baron's crest he wore.

And sheathed in armor trode the shore.

Slighting the petty need he showed, 425

He told of his benighted road ;

His ready speech flowed fair and free,

In phrase of gentlest courtesy,

Yet seemed that tone and gesture bland

Less used to sue than to command. 430

XXII

Awhile the maid the stranger eyed,

And, reassured, at length replied.

That Highland halls were open still

To wildered wanderers of the hill.

' Nor think you unexpected come 435

To yon lone isle, our desert home ;

Before the heath had lost the dew.

This morn, a couch was pulled for you ;

On yonder mountain's purple head

Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, 440

And our broad nets have swept the mere.

To' furnish forth your evening cheer/ -—

[18]

FIRST] THE CHASE

' Now, by the rood, my lovely maid,

Your courtesy has erred,' he said ;

' No right have I to claim, misplaced, 445

The welcome of expected guest.

A wanderer, here by fortune tost.

My way, my friends, my courser lost,

I ne'er before, believe me, fair.

Have ever drawn your mountain air, • 450

Till on this lake's romantic strand

I found a fay in fairy land ! * —

XXIII

' I well believe,' the maid replied,

As her light skiff approached the side, —

* I well believe, that ne'er before 455

Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore ;

But yet, as far as yesternight,

Old Allan-bane foretold your plight, —

A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent

Was on the visioned future bent. 460

He saw your steed, a dappled gray,

Lie dead beneath the birchen way ;

Painted exact your form and mien.

Your hunting-suit of Lincoln green.

That tasselled horn so gayly gilt, 465

That falchion's crooked blade and hilt,

That cap with heron plumage trim.

And yon two hounds so dark and grim.

He bade that all should ready be

To grace a guest of fair degree ; 470

[19]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

But light I held his prophecy,

And deemed it was my father's horn

Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne/

XXIV

The stranger smiled : — ' Since to your home

A destined errant-knight I come, 475

Announced by prophet sooth and old.

Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold,

I '11 lightly front each high emprise

For one kind glance of those bright eyes.

Permit me first the task to guide 480

Your fairy frigate o'er the tide.'

The maid, with smile suppressed and sly.

The toil unwonted saw him try ;

For seldom, sure, if e'er before,

His noble hand had grasped an oar : 485

Yet with main strength his strokes he drew.

And o'er the lake the shallop flew ;

With heads erect and whimpering cry,

The hounds behind their passage ply.

Nor frequent does the bright oar break 490

The darkening mirror of the lake,

Until the rocky isle they reach.

And moor their shallop on the beach.

XXV

The stranger viewed the shore around ;

' T was all so close with copse wood bound, 495

[20] .

FiRSTj THE CHASE

Nor track nor pathway might declare

That human foot frequented there,

Until the mountain maiden showed

A clambering unsuspected road,

That winded through the tangled screen, . 500

And opened on a narrow green,

Where weeping birch and willow round

With their long fibres swept the ground.

Here, for retreat in dangerous hour.

Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 505

XXVI

It was a lodge of ample size. But strange of structure and device ; Of such materials as around The workman's hand had readiest found. ■ Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, 510 And by the hatchet rudely squared, To give the walls their destined height, The sturdy oak and ash unite ; While moss and clay and leaves combined To fence each crevice from the wind. 5^5

The lighter pine-trees overhead Their slender length for rafters spread, And withered heath and rushes dry Supplied a russet canopy.

Due westward, fronting to the green, 520

A rural portico was seen. Aloft on native pillars borne. Of mountain fir with bark unshorn,

^21]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine The ivy and Idaean vine, * 525

The clematis, the favored flower Which boasts the name of virgin-bower, And every hardy plant could bear ^j^ch Katrine's keen and searching air^ An instant in this porch she stayed, 530

And gayly to the stranger said : 'On heaven and on thy lady call. And enter the enchanted hall ! '

XXVII

' My hope, my heaven, my trust must be.

My gentle guide, in following thee!'— 535

He crossed the threshold, — and a clang

Of angry steel that instant rang.

To his bold brow his spirit rushed.

But soon for vain alarm he blushed,

When on the floor he saw displayed, 540

Cause of the din, a naked blade

Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung

Upon a stag's huge antlers swung ;

For all around, the walls to grace,

Hung trophies of the fight or chase : 545

A target there, a bugle here,

A battle-axe, a hunting-spear, ilic-

And broadswords, bows, and arrows store,

With the tusked trophies of the boar.

Here grins the wolf as when he died, 550

And there, the wild-cat's brindled^ hide : I'.j

[22]

FIRST] THE CHASE

The frontlet of the elk adorns,

Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ;

Pennons and flags defaced and stained,

That blackening streaks of blood retained, 555

And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white,

With otter's fur and seal's unite.

In rude and uncouth tapestry all.

To garnish forth the sylvan hall.

XXVIII

The wondering stranger round him gazed, 560

And next the fallen weapon raised : —

Few were the arms whose sinewy strength

Sufficed to stretch it forth at length.

And as the brand he poised and swayed,

' I never knew but one,' he said, 565

'Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield

A blade like this in battle-field.'

She sighed, then smiled and took the word :

'You see the guardian champion's sword;

As light it trembles in his hand 570

As in my grasp a hazel wand :

My sire's tall form might grace the part

Of Ferragus or Ascabart,

But in the absent giant's hold

Are women now, and menials old.' 575

XXIX

The mistress of the mansion came. Mature of age, a graceful dame,

[23]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Whose easy step and stately port

Had well become a princely court,

To whom, though more than kindred knew, 580

Young Ellen gave a mother's due.

Meet welcome to her guest she made.

And every courteous rite was paid

That hospitality could claim.

Though all unasked his birth and name. 585

Such then the reverence to a guest,

That fellest foe might join the feast.

And from his deadliest foeman's door

Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er.

At length his rank the stranger names, 590

' The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James ;

Lord of a barren heritage.

Which his brave sires, from age to age,

By their good swords had held with toil ;

His sire had fallen in such turmoil, 595

And he, God wot, was forced to stand

Oft for his right with blade in hand.

This morning with Lord Moray's train

He chased a stalwart stag in vain.

Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer, 600

Lost his good steed, and wandered here/

XXX

Fain would the Knight in turn require

The name and state of Ellen's sire.

Well showed the elder lady's mien

That courts and cities she had seen ; 605

[24]

FIRST] THE CHASE

Ellen, though more her looks displayed

The simple grace of sylvan maid,

In speech and gesture, form and face.

Showed she was come of gentle race.

'Twere strange in ruder rank to find 6io

Such looks, such manners, and such mind.

Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave,

Dame Margaret heard with silence grave ;

Or Ellen, innocently gay,

Turned all inquiry light away : — 615

' Weird women we ! by dale and down

We dwell, afar from tower and town.

We stem the flood, we ride the blast.

On wandering knights our spells we cast ;

While viewless minstrels touch the string, 620

Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing.'

She sung, and still a harp unseen

Filled up the symphony between.

XXXI

Song

' Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er.

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; 625 Dream of battled fields no more, -

Days of danger, nights of waking. - In our isle's enchanted hall,

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing. Fairy strains of music fall, r ,rf:£r:z'r^r''\ 630

Every sense in slumber dewing^; \y

[25]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er,

Dream of fighting fields no more ;

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,

Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 635

* No rude sound shall reach thine ear.

Armor's clang or war-steed champing. Trump nor pibroch summon here

Mustering clan or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 640

At the daybreak from the fallow. And the bittern sound his drum,

Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here, 645

Here 's no war-steed's neigh and champing. Shouting clans of squadrons stamping.'

XXXII

She paused, — then, blushing, led the lay,

To grace the stranger of the day.

Her mellow notes awhile prolong 650

The cadence of the flowing song,

Till to her lips in measured frame

The minstrel verse spontaneous came.

Song Contimced

* Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done ;

While our slumbrous spells assail ye, 655

[26]

FIRST] - THE CHASE

Dream not, with the rising sun,

Bugles here shall sound reveille. Sleep ! the deer is in his den ;

Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying : Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen 660

How thy gallant steed lay dying. Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done ; Think not of the rising sun. For at dawning to assail ye Here no bugles sound reveille.' 665

XXXIII

The hall was cleared, — the stranger's bed

Was there of mountain heather spread,

Where oft a hundred guests had lain,

And dreamed their forest sports again.

But vainly did the heath-flower shed 670

Its moorland fragrance round his head ;

Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest

The fever of his troubled breast.

In broken dreams the image rose

Of varied perils, pains, and woes : 675

His steed now flounders in the brake,

Now sinks his barge upon the lake ;

Now leader of a broken host.

His standard falls, his honor 's lost.

Then, — from my couch may heavenly might 680

Chase that worst phantom of the night ! —

Again returned the scenes of youth.

Of confident, undoubting truth ;

[27]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Again his soul he interchanged

With friends whose hearts were long estranged. 685

They come, in dim procession led,

The cold, the faithless, and the dead ;

As warm each hand, each brow as gay.

As if they parted yesterday.

And doubt distracts him at the view, — 690

O were his senses false or true?

Dreamed he of death or broken vow,

XXXIV

At length, with Ellen in a grove He seemed to walk and speak of love ; 695

She listened with a blush and sigh. His suit was warm, his hopes were high. He sought her yielded hand to clasp, And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : The phantom's sex was changed and gone, 700

L'pon its head a helmet shone ; Slowly enlarged to giant size, With darkened cheek and threatening eyes. The grisly \dsage, stern and hoar. To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 705

He woke, and, panting with affright, Recalled the vision of the night. The hearth's decaying brands were red, And deep and dusky lustre shed. Half showing, half concealing, all 710

The uncouth trophies of the hall. [2.8]

FIRST] THE CHASE

Mid those the stranger fixed his eye

Where that huge falchion hung on high,

And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng.

Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along, 715

Until, the giddy whirl to cure,

He rose and sought the moonshine pure.

XXXV

The wild rose, eglantine, and broom Wasted around their rich perfume ; The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm ; 720

The aspen slept beneath the calm ; The silver light, with quivering glance, Played on the water's still expanse, — Wild were the heart whose passion's sway Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 725

He felt its calm, that v/arrior guest, While thus he communed with his breast : — ' Why is it, at each turn I trace Some memory of that exiled race ? Can I not mountain maiden spy, 730

But she must bear the Douglas eye ? Can I not view a Highland brand, But it must match the Douglas hand ? Can I not frame a fevered dream, But still the Douglas is the theme ? 735

I '11 dream no more, — by manly mind xNot even in sleep is will resigned. My midnight orisons said o'er, I '11 turn to rest, and dream no more.'

[29]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

His midnight orisons he told, 740

A prayer with every bead of gold,

Consigned to heaven his cares and woes.

And sunk in undisturbed repose.

Until the heath-cock shrilly crew.

And morning dawned on Benvenue. 745

[30]

CANTO SECOND

THE ISLAND

A MORN the black-cock trims his jetty wing, T is morning prompts the Hnnet's bUthest lay, All nature's children feel the matin spring Of life reviving, with reviving day ; And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 5

Wafting the stranger on his way again,

Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray, And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain. Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan-' bane !

II Song

* Not faster yonder rowers* might 10

Flings from their oars the spray, Not faster yonder rippling bright. That tracks the shallop's course in light,

Melts in the lake away. Than men from memory erase 15

[31]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

The benefits of former days ;

Then, stranger, go ! good speed the while.

Nor think again of the lonely isle.

' High place to thee in royal court, ^

High place in battled line, 20

Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport !

Where beauty sees the brave resort. The honored meed be thine !

True be thy sword, thy friend sincere,

Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, 25

And lost in love's and friendship's smile

Be memory of the lonely isle !

Ill Song Contimted

' But if beneath yon southern sky

A plaided stranger roam. Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, 30

And sunken cheek and heavy eye,

Pine for his Highland home ; Then, warrior, then be thine to show The care that soothes a wanderer's woe ; Remember then thy hap erewhile, 35

A stranger in the lonely isle.

' Or if on life's uncertain main

Mishap shall mar thy sail ; If faithful,; wise, and brave in vain, Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 40

Beneath the fickle gale ;

[32]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, On thankless courts, or friends estranged. But come where kindred worth shall smile, To greet thee in the lonely isle.' 45

IV

As died the sounds upon the tide.

The shallop reached the mainland side,

And ere his onward way he took.

The stranger cast a lingering look,

Where easily his eye might reach 50

The Harper on the islet beach,

Reclined against a blighted tree,

As wasted, gray, and worn as he.

To minstrel meditation given,

His reverend brow was raised to heaven, 55

As from the rising sun to claim

A sparkle of inspiring flame.

His hand, reclined upon the wire,

Seemed watching the awakening fire ;

So still he sat as those who wait 60

Till judgment speak the doom of fate ;

So still, as if no breeze might dare

To lift one lock of hoary hair;

So still, as life itself were fled

In the last sound his harp had sped. 65

V

Upon a rock with lichens wild, Beside him Ellen sat and smiled. —

[33]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Smiled she to see the stately drake

Lead forth his fleet upon the lake,

While her vexed spaniel from the beach 70

Bayed at the prize beyond his reach ?

Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows.

Why deepened on her cheek the rose ? —

Forgive, forgive. Fidelity !

Perchance the maiden smiled to see 75-

Yon parting lingerer wave adieu,

And stop and turn to wave anew ;

And, lovely ladies, ere your ire

Condemn the heroine of my lyre,

Show me the fair would scorn to spy 80

And prize such conquest of her eye !

VI

While yet he loitered on the spot.

It seemed as Ellen marked him not ;

But when he turned him to the glade,

One courteous parting sign she made ; 85

And after, oft the knight would say,

That not when prize of festal day

Was dealt him by the brightest fair

Who e*er wore jewel in her hair,

So highly did his bosom swell 90

As at that simple mute farewell.

Now with a trusty mountain-guide.

And his dark stag-hounds by his side,

He parts, — the maid, unconscious still.

Watched him wind slowly round the hill ; 95

[34]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

But when his stately form was hid, The guardian in her bosom chid, —

* Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid ! ' Twas thus upbraiding conscience said, —

* Not so had Malcolm idly hung loo On the smooth phrase of Southern tongue ;

Not so had Malcolm strained his eye

Another step than thine to spy/ —

*Wake, Allan-bane,' aloud she cried

To the old minstrel by her side, — 105

* Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! I '11 give thy harp heroic theme ; And warm thee with a noble name : Pour forth the glory of the Graeme ! '

Scarce from her lip the word had rushed, no When deep the conscious maiden blushed ; For of his clan, in hall and bower, Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower.

VII

The minstrel waked his harp, — three times

Arose the well-known martial chimes, 115

And thrice their high heroic pride

In melancholy murmurs died.

' Vainly thou bidst, O noble maid,'

Clasping his withered hands, he said,

' Vainly thou bidst me wake the strain, 120

Though all unwont to bid in vain.

Alas ! than mine a mightier hand

Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned !

[35]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

I touch the chords of joy, but low

And mournful answer notes of woe ; 125

And the proud march which victors tread

Sinks in the wailing for the dead.

O, well for me, if mine alone

That dirge's deep prophetic tone !

If, as my tuneful fathers said, 130

This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed,

Can thus its master's fate foretell.

Then welcome be the minstrel's knell !

VIII

' But ah ! dear lady, thus it sighed.

The eve thy sainted mother died ; 135

And such the sounds which, while I strove

To wake a lay of war or love.

Came marring all the festal mirth.

Appalling me who gave them birth.

And, disobedient to my call, 140

Wailed loud through Both well's bannered hall.

Ere Douglases, to ruin driven,

Were exiled from their native heaven. —

O ! if yet worse mishap and woe

^ly master's house must undergo, 145

Or aught but weal to Ellen fair

Brood in these accents of despair.

No future bard, sad Harp ! shall fling

Triumph or rapture from thy string ;

One short, one final strain shall flow, 150

Fraught with unutterable woe,

[36]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

Then shivered shall thy fragments lie, Thy master cast him down and die ! '

IX

[ Soothing she answered him : ' Assuage, Mine honored friend, the fears of age ; 155

All melodies to thee are known That harp has rung or pipe has blown, In Lowland vale or Highland glen. From Tweed toSpey — what marvel, then, At times unbidden notes should rise, 160

Confusedly bound in memory's ties. Entangling, as they rush along. The war-march with the funeral song? — Small ground is now for boding fear ; Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. 165

My sire, in native virtue great, Resigning lordship, lands, and state, Not then to fortune more resigned Than yonder oak might give the wind ; The graceful foliage storms may reave, 170

The noble stem they cannot grieve. For me ' — she stooped, and, looking round. Plucked a blue harebell from the ground, — ' For me, whose memory scarce conveys An image of more spendid days, 175

This little flower that loves the lea May well my simple emblem be ; It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose That in the King's own garden grows;

[37]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

And when I place it in my hair, i8o

Allan, a bard is bound to swear

He ne'er saw coronet so fair.'

Then playfully the chaplet wild

She wTeathed in her dark locks, and smiled.

Her smile, her speech, with winning sway, 185

Wiled the old Harper's mood away.

With such a look as hermits throw,

When angels stoop to soothe their woe, "

He gazed, till fond regret and pride

Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied : 190

' Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st

The rank, the honors, thou hast lost !

O, might I live to see thee grace.

In Scotland's court, thy birthright place.

To see my favorite's step advance 195

The lightest in the courtly dance,

The cause of every gallant's sigh,

And leading star of every eye,

And theme of every minstrel's art.

The Lady of the Bleeding Heart ! ' 200

XI

* Fair dreams are these,' the maiden cried, — Light was her accent, yet she sighed, — ' Yet is this mossy rock to me Worth splendid chair and canopy ;

[38]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

Nor would my footstep spring more gay 205

In courtly dance than blithe strathspey,

Nor half so pleased mine ear incline

To royal minstrel's lay as thine.

And then for suitors proud and high,

To bend before my conquering eye, — 210

Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt say.

That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway.

The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride,

The terror of Loch Lomond's side,

Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 215

A Lennox foray — for a day.' —

XII

The ancient bard her glee repressed :

' 111 hast thou chosen theme for jest !

For who, through all this western wild.

Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled ? 220

In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ;

I saw, when back the dirk he drew,

Courtiers give place before the stride

Of the undaunted homicide ;

And since, though outlawed, hath his hand 225

Full sternly kept his mountain land.

Who else dared give — ah ! woe the day.

That I such hated truth should say! —

The Douglas, like a stricken deer.

Disowned by every noble peer, 230

Even the rude refuge we have here ?

[39]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Alas, this wild marauding Chief

Alone might hazard our relief,

And now thy maiden charms expand.

Looks for his guerdon in thy hand; 235

Full soon may dispensation sought.

To back his suit, from Rome be brought.

Then, though an exile on the hill,

Thy father, as the Douglas, still

Be held in reverence and fear ; 240

And though to Roderick thou 'rt so dear

That thou mightst guide with silken thread.

Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread.

Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain !

Thy hand is on a lion's mane.' — 245

XIII

' Minstrel,' the maid replied, and high

Her father's soul glanced from her eye,

'My debts to Roderick's house I know:

All that a mother could bestow

To Lady Margaret's care I owe, 250

Since first an orphan in the wild

She sorrowed o'er her sister's child ;

To her brave chieftain son, from ire

Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire,

A deeper, holier debt is owed ; 255

And, could I pay it with my blood,

Allan ! Sir Roderick should command

My blood, my life, — but not my hand.

[40]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell

A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; 260

Rather through realms beyond the sea,

Seeking the world's cold charity,

Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word,

And ne'er the name of Douglas heard,

An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 265

Than wed the man she cannot love.

XIV

'Thou shak'st, good friend, thy tresses gray, — That pleading look, what can it say But what I own ? — I grant him brave. But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave ; 270 And generous, — save vindictive mood Or jealous transport chafe his blood : I grant him true to friendly band, As his claymore is to his hand ; But O ! that very blade of steel 275

More mercy for a foe would feel : I grant him liberal, to fling Among his clan the wealth they bring, When back by lake and glen they wind. And in the Lowland leave behind, 280

Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, A mass of ashes slaked with blood. The hand that for my father fought I honor, as his daughter ought ; But can I clasp it reeking red 285

From peasants slaughtered in their shed ? B [41]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

No ! wildly while his virtues gleam,

They make his passions darker seem,

And flash along his spirit high,

Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 290

While yet a child, — and children know.

Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, —

I shuddered at his brow of gloom.

His shadowy plaid and sable plume ;

A maiden grown, I ill could bear 295

His haughty mien and lordly air :

But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim.

In serious mood, to Roderick's name,

I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er

A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 300

To change such odious theme were best, —

What think'st thou of our stranger guest ? ' —

XV

' What think I of him ? — woe the while

That brought such wanderer to our isle !

Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 305

For Tine-man forged by fairy lore.

What time he leagued, no longer foes,

His Border spears with Hotspur's bows.

Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow

The footsteps of a secret foe. 310

If courtly spy hath harbored here.

What may we for the Douglas fear.?

What of this island, deemed of old

Clan- Alpine's last and surest hold ?

[42]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

If neither spy nor foe, I pray 315

What yet may jealous Roderick say ? —

Nay, wave not thy disdainful head !

Bethink thee of the discord dread

That kindled when at Beltane game

Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme ; 320

Still, though thy sire the peace renewed,

Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud :

Beware ! — But hark ! what sounds are these ?

My dull ears catch no faltering breeze.

No weeping birch nor aspens wake, 325

Nor breath is dimpling in the lake ;

Still is the canna's hoary beard,

Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard —

And hark again ! some pipe of war

Sends the bold pibroch from afar/ 330

XVI

Far up the lengthened lake were spied

Four darkening specks upon the tide.

That, slow enlarging on the view.

Four manned and masted barges grew.

And, bearing downwards from Glengyle. 335

Steered full upon the lonely isle ;

The point of Brianchoil they passed.

And, to the windward as they cast.

Against the sun they gave to shine

The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine. 340

Nearer and nearer as they bear.

Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air.

[43]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Now might you see the tartans brave,

And plaids and plumage dance and wave :

Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 345

As his tough oar the rower plies ;

See, flashing at each sturdy stroke.

The wave ascending into smoke ;

See the proud pipers on the bow.

And mark the gaudy streamers flow 350

From their loud chanters down, and sweep

The furrowed bosom of the deep.

As, rushing through the lake amain,

They plied the ancient Highland strain.

xvil

Ever, as on they bore, more loud 355

And louder rung the pibroch proud. At first the sounds, by distance tame, Mellowed along the waters came, And, lingering long by cape and bay, Wailed every harsher note away, 360

Then bursting bolder on the ear. The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear. Those thrilling sounds that call the might Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight. Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 365

The mustering hundreds shake the glen, And hurrying at the signal dread. The battered earth returns their tread. Then prelude light, of livelier tone, . Expressed their merry marching on, 370

[44]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

Ere peal of closing battle rose,

With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows ;

And mimic din of stroke and ward.

As broadsword upon target jarred ;

And groaning pause, ere yet again, 375

Condensed, the battle yelled amain :

The rapid charge, the rallying shout.

Retreat borne headlong into rout.

And bursts of triumph, to declare

Clan-Alpine's conquest — all were there. 380

Nor ended thus the strain, but slow

Sunk in a moan prolonged and low.

And changed the conquering clarion swell

For wild lament o'er those that fell.

XVIII

The war-pipes ceased, but lake and hill 385

Were busy with their echoes still ;

And, when they slept, a vocal strain

Bade their hoarse chorus wake again,

While loud a hundred clansmen raise

Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 390

Each boatman, bending to his oar.

With measured sweep the burden bore.

In such wild cadence as the breeze

Makes through December's leafless trees.

The chorus first could Allan know, 395

* Roderick Vich Alpine, ho ! iro ! '

And near, and nearer as they rowed,

Distinct the martial ditty flowed.

[45]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

XIX

Boat Song

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances !

Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine ! 400

Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line !

Heaven send it happy dew,

Earth lend it sap anew, Gayly to bourgeon and broadly to grow, 405

While every Highland glen

Sends our shout back again, * Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! '

Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain.

Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade ; 410

When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain. The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. Moored in the rifted rock. Proof to the tempest's shock. Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; 415

Menteith and Breadalbane, then. Echo his praise again, ' Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! '

XX

Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin,

And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied; 420

Glen-Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side.

[46]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

Widow and Saxon maid

Long shall lament our raid, Think of Clan- Alpine with fear and with woe ; 425

Lennox and Leven-glen

Shake when they hear again, ' Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! '

Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands !

Stretch to your oars for the ever-green Pine ! 430

O that the rosebud that graces yon islands

Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine ! O that some seedling gem. Worthy such noble stem Honored and blessed in their shadow might grow ! 435 Loud should Clan-Alpine then Ring from her deepmost glen, * Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! '

XXI

With all her joyful female band

Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 440

Loose on the breeze their tresses flew,

And high their snowy arms they threw,

As echoing back with shrill acclaim.

And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name ;

While, prompt to please, with mother's art, 445

The darling passion of his heart.

The Dame called Ellen to the strand,

To greet her kinsman ere he land :

' Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou,

[47]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

And shun to wreathe a victor's brow ? ' 450

Reluctantly and slow, the maid

The unwelcome summoning obeyed,

And when a distant bugle rung,

In the mid-path aside she sprung : —

* List, Allan-bane ! From mainland cast 455

I hear my father's signal blast.

Be ours,' she cried, ' the skiff to guide.

And waft him from the mountain-side/

Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright.

She darted to her shallop light, 460

And, eagerly while Roderick scanned.

For her dear form, his mother's band,

The islet far behind her lay.

And she had landed in the bay.

XXII

Some feelings are to mortals given 465

With less of earth in them than heaven ;

And if there be a human tear

From passion's dross refined and clear,

A tear so limpid and so meek

It would not stain an angel's cheek, 470

'T is that which pious fathers shed

Upon a duteous daughter's head !

And as the Douglas to his breast

His darhng Ellen closely pressed.

Such holy drops her tresses steeped, 475

Though 't was an hero's eye that weeped.

Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue

[48]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

Her filial welcomes crowded hung, Marked she that fear — affection's proof — Still held a graceful youth aloof ; 480

No ! not till Douglas named his name, Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme.

^ XXIII \^

Allan, with wistful look the while,

Marked Roderick landing on the isle ;

His master piteously he eyed, ' 485

Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride,

Then dashed with hasty hand away

From his dimmed eye the gathering spray ;

And Douglas, as his hand he laid

On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said : 490

* Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy

In my poor follower's glistening eye ?

I '11 tell thee : — he recalls the day

When in my praise he led the lay

O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, 495

While many a minstrel answered loud.

When Percy's Norman pennon, won

In bloody field, before me shone.

And twice ten knights, the least a name

As mighty as yon Chief may claim, 500

Gracing my pomp, behind me came.

Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud

Was I of all that marshalled crowd.

Though the waned crescent owned my might.

And in my train trooped lord and knight, 505

[49]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Though Blantyre hymned her hoUest lays,

And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise,

As when this old man's silent tear.

And this poor maid's affection dear,

A welcome give more kind and true 510

Than aught my better fortunes knew.

Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, —

O, it out-beggars all I lost ! '

XXIV

Delightful praise ! — like summer rose,

That brighter in the dew-drop glows, 515

The bashful maiden's cheek appeared.

For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard.

The flush of shame-faced joy to hide.

The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide ;

The loved caresses of the maid 520

The dogs with crouch and whimper paid ;

And, at her whistle, on her hand

The falcon took his favorite stand.

Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye,

Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 525

And, trust, while in such guise she stood,

Like fabled Goddess of the wood,

That if a father's partial thought

O'erweighed her worth and beauty aught,

Well might the lover's judgment fail 530

To balance with a juster scale ;

For with each secret glance he stole,

The fond enthusiast sent his soul.

[so]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

XXV

Of stature fair, and slender frame,

But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. 535

The belted plaid and tartan hose

Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose ;

His flaxen hair, of sunny hue,

Curled closely round his bonnet blue.

Trained to the chase, his eagle eye 540

The ptarmigan in snow could spy ;

Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath,

He knew, through Lennox and Menteith ;

Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe

When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, 545

And scarce that doe, though winged with fear.

Outstripped in speed the mountaineer :

Right up Ben Lomond could he press,

And not a sob his toil confess.

His form accorded with a mind 550

Lively and ardent, frank and kind ;

A blither heart, till Ellen came.

Did never love nor sorrow tame ;

It danced as lightsome in his breast

As played the feather on his crest. 555

Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth.

His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth,

And bards, who saw his features bold

When kindled by the tales of old.

Said, were that youth to manhood grown, 560

Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown

[SI]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme.

XXVI

Now back they wend their watery way,

And, ' O my sire ! ' did Ellen say, 565

* Why urge thy chase so far astray ?

And why so late returned ? And why ' —

The rest was in her speaking eye.

' My child, the chase I follow far,

'T is mimicry of noble war ; 570

And with that gallant pastime reft

Were all of Douglas I have left.

I met young Malcolm as I strayed

Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade ;

Nor strayed I safe, for all around 575

Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground.

This youth, though still a royal ward.

Risked life and land to be my guard.

And through the passes of the wood

Guided my steps, not unpursued ; 580

And Roderick shall his welcome make.

Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake.

Then must he seek Strath- Endrick glen.

Nor peril aught for me again.'

xxvii

Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, 585

Reddened at sight of Malcolm Graeme, Yet, not in action, word, or eye,

[52]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

Failed aught in hospitality.

In talk and sport they whiled away

The morning of that summer day ; 590

But at high noon, a courier light

Held secret parley with the knight,

Whose moody aspect soon declared

That evil were the news he heard.

Deep thought seemed toiling in his head ; 595

Yet was the evening banquet made

Ere he assembled round the flame

His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme,

And Ellen too ; then cast around

His eyes, then fixed them on the ground, 600

As studying phrase that might avail

Best to convey unpleasant tale.

Long with his dagger's hilt he played.

Then raised his haughty brow, and said : —

XXVIII

' Short be my speech ; — nor time affords, 605

Nor my plain temper, glozing words.

Kinsman and father, — if such name

Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim ;

Mine honored mother ; — Ellen, — why,

My cousin, turn away thine eye ? — 610

And Graeme, in whom I hope to know

Full soon a noble friend or foe,

When age shall give thee thy command,

And leading in thy native land, —

[S3]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

List all! — The King's vindictive pride 615

Boasts to have tamed the Border-side,

Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came

To share their monarch's sylvan game.

Themselves in bloody toils were snared,

And when the banquet they prepared, 620

And wide their loyal portals flung.

O'er their own gateway struggling hung.

Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead,

From Yarrow braes and banks of Tweed,

Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide, 625

And from the silver Teviot's side ;

The dales, where martial clans did ride,

Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide.

This tyrant of the Scottish throne,

So faithless and so ruthless known, 630

Now hither comes ; his end the same,

The same pretext of sylvan game.

What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye

By fate of Border chivalry.

Yet more ; amid Glenfinlas' green, 635

Douglas, thy stately form was seen.

This by espial sure I know :

Your counsel in the streight I show/

XXIX

Ellen and Margaret fearfully Sought comfort in each other's eye, 640

Then turned their ghastly look, each one. This to her sire, that to her son,

[54]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

The hasty color went and came

In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme,

But from his glance it well appeared 645

T was but for Ellen that he feared ;

While, sorrowful, but undismayed,

The Douglas thus his counsel said :

' Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar.

It may but thunder and pass o'er ; 650

Nor will I here remain an hour.

To draw the lightning on thy bower ;

For well thou know'st, at this gray head

The royal bolt were fiercest sped.

For thee, who, at thy King's command, 655

Canst aid him with a gallant band.

Submission, homage, humbled pride.

Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside.

Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart,

Ellen and I will seek apart 660

The refuge of some forest cell.

There, like the hunted quarry, dwell.

Till on the mountain and the moor

The stern pursuit be passed and o'er.' —

XXX

* No, by mine honor,' Roderick said, 665

' So help me Heaven, and my good blade !

No, never ! Blasted be yon Pine,

My father's ancient crest and mine,

If from its shade in danger part

The lineage of the Bleeding Heart ! 670

[55]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Hear my blunt speech : grant me this maid

To wife, thy counsel to mine aid ;

To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu,

Will friends and allies flock enow ;

Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 675

Will bind to us each Western Chief.

When the loud pipes my bridal tell,

The Links of Forth shall hear the knell,

The guards shall start in Stirling's porch ;

And when I light the nuptial torch, 680

A thousand villages in flames

Shall scare the slumbers of King James ! —

Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away,

And, mother, cease these signs, I pray;

I meant not all my heat might say. — 685

Small need of inroad or of fight,

When the sage Douglas may unite

Each mountain clan in friendly band,

To guard the passes of their land.

Till the foiled King from pathless glen 690

Shall bootless turn him home again/

XXXI

There are who have, at midnight hour,

In slumber scaled a dizzv tower.

And, on the verge that beetled o'er

The ocean tide's incessant roar, 695

Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream.

Till wakened by the morning beam ;

[56]

THE ISLAND

When, dazzled by the eastern glow,

Such startler cast his glance below,

And saw unmeasured depth around, 700

And heard unintermitted sound,

And thought the battled fence so frail,

It waved like cobweb in the gale ; —

Amid his senses' giddy wheel.

Did he not desperate impulse feel, 705

Headlong to plunge himself below,

And meet the worst his fears foreshow ? —

Thus Ellen, dizzy and astound,

As sudden ruin yawned around.

By crossing terrors wildly tossed, 710

Still for the Douglas fearing most,

Could scarce the desperate thought withstand,

To buy his safety with her hand.

XXXII

Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy

In Ellen's quivering lip and eye, 715

And eager rose to speak, — but ere

His tongue could hurry forth his fear,

Had Douglas marked the hectic strife,

Where death seemed combating with life ;

For to her cheek, in feverish flood, 720

One instant rushed the throbbing blood,

Then ebbing back, with sudden sway.

Left its domain as wan as clay.

' Roderick, enough ! enough ! ' he cried,

' My daughter cannot be thy bride ; 725

[57]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Not that the blush to wooer dear,

Nor paleness that of maiden fear.

It may not be, — forgive her. Chief,

Nor hazard aught for our relief.

Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 730

Will level a rebellious spear.

'T was I that taught his youthful hand

To rein a steed and wield a brand ;

I see him yet, the princely boy !

Not Ellen more my pride and joy ; 735

I love him still, despite my wrongs

By hasty wrath and slanderous tongues.

O, seek the grace you well may find.

Without a cause to mine combined ! '

XXXIII

Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode ; 740

The waving of his tartans broad.

And darkened brow, where wounded pride

With ire and disappointment vied.

Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light,

Like the ill Demon of the night, 745

Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway

Upon the nighted pilgrim's way ;

But, unrequited Love ! thy dart

Plunged deepest its envenomed smart,

And Roderick, with thine anguish stung, 750

At length the hand of Douglas wrung.

While eyes that mocked at tears before

With bitter drops were running o'er.

[58]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

The death-pangs of long-cherished hope

Scarce in that ample breast had scope, 755

But, struggling with his spirit proud.

Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud,

While every sob — so mute were all —

Was heard distinctly through the hatll.

The son's despair, the mother's look, . 760

111 might the gentle Ellen brook ;

She rose, and to her side there came,

To aid her parting steps, the Graeme.

XXXIV

Then Roderick from the Douglas broke —

As flashes flame through sable smoke, 765

Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low,

To one broad blaze of ruddy glow,

So the deep anguish of despair

Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air.

With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 770

On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid :

* Back, beardless boy ! ' he sternly said,

' Back, minion ! holdst thou thus at naught

The lesson I so lately taught ?

This roof, the Douglas, and that maid, 775

Thank thou for punishment delayed/

Eager as greyhound on his game.

Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme.

' Perish my name, if aught afford

lis Chieftain safety save his sword ! * - . 780

[59]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Thus as they strove their desperate hand

Griped to the dagger or the brand,

And death had been — but -Douglas rose,

And thrust between the struggHng foes

His giant strength : — ' Chieftains, forego ! 785

I hold the first who strikes my foe. —

Madmen, forbear your frantic jar !

What ! is the Douglas fallen so far.

His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil

Of such dishonorable broil ? ' . ^ ' 790

Sullen and slowly they unclasp.

As struck with shame, their desperate grasp,

And each upon his rival glared.

With foot advanced and blade half bared.

XXXV

Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, 795

Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung.

And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream,

As faltered through terrific dream.

Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword,

And veiled his wrath in scornful word : 800

' Rest safe till morning ; pity 't were

Such cheek should feel the midnight air !

Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell,

Roderick will keep the lake and fell.

Nor lackey with his f reeborn clan 805

The pageant pomp of earthly man.

More would he of Clan-Alpine know.

Thou Canst our strength and passes show, ~-

[60]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

Malise, what ho ! ' — his henchman came : ' Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme/ 8io

Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold : ' Fear nothing for thy favorite hold ; The spot an angel deigned to grace Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place. Thy churlish courtesy for those 815

Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. As safe to me the mountain way At midnight as in blaze of day, Though with his boldest at his back Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. — 820

Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay, Naught here of parting will I say. Earth does not hold a lonesome glen So secret but we meet again. — Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,' — 825

• He said, and left the sylvan bower.

XXXVI

Old Allan followed to the strand —

Such was the Douglas's command —

And anxious told, how, on the morn,

The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, 830

The Fiery Cross should circle o'er

Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor ^

Much were the peril to the Graeme

From those who to the signal came ;

Far up the lake 't were safest land, 835

Himself would row him to the strand.

[61]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

He gave his counsel to the wind, While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind, Round dirk and pouch and broadsword rolled, His ample plaid in tightened fold, 840

And stripped his limbs to such array As best might suit the watery way, —

XXXVII

Then spoke abrupt : ' Farewell to thee,

Pattern of old fidelity ! '

The Minstrel's hand he kindly pressed, — 845

' O, could I point a place of rest !

My sovereign holds in ward my land.

My uncle leads my vassal band ;

To tame his foes, his friends to aid.

Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. 850

Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme

Who loves the chieftain of his name.

Not long shall honored Douglas dwell

Like hunted stag in mountain cell ;

Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare, — 855

I may not give the rest to air !

Tell Roderick Dhu I owed him naught,

Not the poor service of a boat.

To waft me to yon mountain-side/

Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 860

Bold o'er the flood his head he bore.

And stoutly steered him from the shore ;

And Allan strained his anxious eye.

Far mid the lake his form to spy,

[62]

SECOND] THE ISLAND

Darkening across each puny wave, 865

To which the moon her silver gave.

Fast as the cormorant could skim,

The swimmer plied each active limb ;

Then landing in the moonlight dell,

Loud shouted of his weal to tell. 870

The Minstrel heard the far halloo.

And joyful from the shore withdrew.

[63]

CANTO THIRD

THE GATHERING ^ / «^;

I

3 rm fC^^^t^

^IME rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore, Who danced our infancy upon their knee, Jl And told our marvelling boyhood legends store Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea, How are they blotted from the things that be ! 5

How few, all weak and withered of their force.

Wait on the verge of dark eternity, Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse. To sweep them from our sight ! Time rolls his cease- less course.

Yet live there still who can remember well, 10

How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell.

And solitary heath, the signal knew;

And fast the faithful clan around him drew. What time the warning note was keenly wound, 15

What time aloft their kindred banner flew,

[65]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound, And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round.

II

The Summer dawn's reflected hue

To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ; 20

Mildly and soft the western breeze

Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees,

And the pleased lake, like maiden coy.

Trembled but dimpled not for joy :

The mountain shadows on her breast 25

Were neither broken nor at rest ;

In bright uncertainty they lie,

Like future joys to Fancy's eve.

The water-lily to the light

Her chalice reared of silver bright; 30

The doe awoke, and to the lawn,

Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn ;

The gray mist left the mountain-side.

The torrent showed its glistening pride ;

Invisible in flecked sky 35

The lark sent down her revelry ;

The blackbird and the speckled thrush

Good-morrow gave from brake and bush ;

In answer cooed the cushat dove

Her notes of peace and rest and love. 40

III

No thought of peace, no thought of rest.

Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast.

[66]

THIRD] THE GATHERING

With sheathed broadsword in his hand,

Abrupt he paced the islet strand,

And eyed the rising sun, and laid 45

His hand on his impatient blade.

Beneath a rock, his vassals* care

Was prompt the ritual to prepare,

With deep and deathf ul meaning fraught ;

For such Antiquity had taught 50

Was preface meet, ere yet abroad

The Cross of Fire should take its road.

The shrinking band stood oft aghast

At the impatient glance he cast ; —

Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 55

As, from the cliffs of Benvenue,

She spread her dark sails on the wind.

And, high in middle heaven reclined.

With her broad shadow on the lake.

Silenced the warblers of the brake. 60

IV

A heap of withered boughs was piled.

Of juniper and rowan wild.

Mingled with shivers from the oak.

Rent by the lightning's recent stroke.

Brian the Hermit by it stood, 65

Barefooted, in his frock and hood.

His grizzled beard and matted hair

Obscured a visage of despair ;

His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er,

The scars of frantic penance bore. 7or

[67]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

That monk, of savage form and face,

The impending danger of his race

Had drawn from deepest soHtude,

Far in Benharrow's bosom rude.

Not his the mien of Christian priest, 75

But Druid's, from the grave released.

Whose hardened heart and eye might brook

On human sacrifice to look ;

And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore

Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er. 80

The hallowed creed gave only worse

And deadlier emphasis of curse.

No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer,

His cave the pilgrim shunned with care ;

The eager huntsman knew his bound, 85

And in mid chase called off his hound ;

Or if, in lonely glen or strath,

The desert-dweller met his path,

He prayed, and signed the cross between,

While terror took devotion's mien. 90

Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. His mother watched a midnight fold, Built deep within a dreary glen. Where scattered lay the bones of men In some forgotten battle slain, 95

And bleached by drifting wind and rain. It might have tamed a warrior's heart To view such mockery of his art ! [68]

th: the gathering

The knot-grass fettered there the hand

Which once could burst an iron band ; loo

Beneath the broad and ample bone,

That bucklered heart to fear unknown,

A feeble and a timorous guest.

The fieldfare framed her lowly nest ;

There the slow blindworm left his slime 105

On the fleet limbs that mocked at time ;

And there, too, lay the leader's skull.

Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full,

For heath-bell with her purple bloom

Supplied the bonnet and the plume. no

All night, in this sad glen, the maid

Sat shrouded in her mantle's shade :

She said no shepherd sought her side.

No hunter's hand her snood untied.

Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 115

The virgin snood did Alice wear ;

Gone was her maiden glee and sport,

Her maiden girdle all too short,

Nor sought she, from that fatal night.

Or holy church or blessed rite, 120

But locked her secret in her breast.

And died in travail, unconfessed.

VI

Alone, among his young compeers,

Was Brian from his infant years ;

A moody and heart-broken boy, 125

Estranged from sympathy and joy,

[69]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Bearing each taunt which careless tongue

On his mysterious Hneage flung.

Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale,

To wood and stream his hap to wail, 130

Till, frantic, he as truth received

What of his birth the crowd believed.

And sought, in mist and meteor fire.

To meet and know his Phantom Sire !

In vain, to soothe his wayward fate, 135

The cloister oped her pitying gate ;

In vain the learning of the age

Unclasped the sable-lettered page ;

Even in its treasures he could find

Food for the fever of his mind. 140

Eager he read whatever tells

Of magic, cabala, and spells.

And every dark pursuit allied

To curious and presumptuous pride ;

Till with fired brain and nerves overstrung, 145

And heart with mystic horrors wrung.

Desperate he sought Benharrow's den.

And hid him from the haunts of men.

VII

The desert gave him visions wild.

Such as might suit the spectre's child. 150

Where with black cliffs the torrents toil,

He watched the wheeling eddies boil.

Till from their foam his dazzled eyes

Beheld the River Demon rise : ^^ .

[^70]

THIRD] THE GATHERING

The mountain mist took form and limb 155

Of noontide hag or goblin grim ;

The midnight wind came wild and dread,

Swelled with the voices of the dead ;

Far on the future battle-heath

His eye beheld the ranks of death : 160

Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled,

Shaped forth a disembodied world.

One lingering sympathy of mind

Still bound him to the mortal kind ;

The only parent he could claim 165

Of ancient Alpine's lineage came.

Late had he heard, in prophet's dream.

The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream ;

Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast

Of charging steeds, careering fast 170

Along Benharrow's shingly side,

Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride ;

The thunderbolt had split the pine, —

All augured ill to Alpine's line.

He girt his loins, and came to show 175

The signals of impending woe.

And now stood prompt to bless or ban,

As bade the Chieftain of his clan.

VIII

*T was all prepared ; — and from the rock

A goat, the patriarch of the flock, 180

Before the kindling pile was laid.

And pierced by Roderick's ready blade.

[71]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Patient the sickening victim eyed

The Hfe-blood ebb in crimson tide

Down his clogged beard and shaggy Hmb, 185

Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim.

The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer,

A slender crosslet framed with care,

A cubit's length in measure due ;

The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, 190

Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave

Their shadows ^o'er Clan- Alpine's grave,

And, answering Lomond's breezes deep.

Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep.

The Cross thus formed he held on high, 195

With wasted hand and haggard eye,

And strange and mingled feelings woke.

While his anathema he spoke : —

IX

'Woe to the clansman who shall view

This symbol of sepulchral yew, 200

Forgetful that its branches grew

Where weep the heavens their holiest dew

On Alpine's dwelling low ! Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, He ne'er shall mingle with their dust, 205

But, from his sires and kindred thrust, Each clansman's execration just

Shall doom him wrath and woe.' He paused ; — the word the vassals took. With forward step and fiery look, 210

[72]

THIRD] THE GATHERING

On high their naked brands they shook, Their clattering targets wildly strook ;

And first in murmur low, Then, like the billow in his course. That far to seaward finds his source, 215

And flings to shore his mustered force. Burst with loud roar their answer hoarse,

' Woe to the traitor, woe ! ' Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew. The joyous w^olf from covert drew, 220

The exulting eagle screamed afar, — They knew the voice of Alpine's war.

The shout was hushed on lake and fell,

The Monk resumed his muttered spell :

Dismal and low its accents came, 225

The while he scathed the Cross with flame ;

And the few words that reached the air.

Although the holiest name was there.

Had more of blasphemy than prayer.

But when he shook above the crowd 230

Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : —

'Woe to the wretch who fails to rear

At this dread sign the ready spear !

For, as the flames this symbol sear.

His home, the refuge of his fear, 235

A kindred fate shall know ; Far o'er its roof the volumed flame Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim,

[73]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

While maids and matrons on his name

Shall call down wretchedness and shame, 240

And infamy and woe.' Then rose the cry of females, shrill As goshawk's whistle on the hill. Denouncing misery and ill. Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 245

Of' curses stammered slow; Answering with imprecation dread, ' Sunk be his home in embers red ! And cursed be the meanest shed That e'er shall hide the houseless head 250

We doom to want and woe ! ' A sharp and shrieking echo gave, Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave ! And the gray pass where birches wave

On Beala-nam-bo. 255

XI

Then deeper paused the priest anew,

And hard his laboring breath he drew.

While, with set teeth and clenched hand,

And eyes that glowed like fiery brand.

He meditated curse more dread, 260

And deadlier, on the clansman's head

Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid.

The signal saw and disobeyed.

The crosslet's points of sparkling wood

He quenched among the bubbling blood, 265

[74]

THIRD] THE GATHERING

And, as again the sign he reared,

Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard :

' When flits this Cross from man to man,

Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan.

Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! 270

Palsied the foot that shuns to speed !

May ravens tear the careless eyes.

Wolves make the coward heart their prize !

As sinks that blood-stream in the earth.

So may his heart 's-blood drench his hearth ! 275

As dies in hissing gore the spark.

Quench thou his light. Destruction dark !

And be the grace to him denied.

Bought by this sign to all beside ! '

He ceased ; no echo gave again 280

The murmur of the deep Amen.

XII

Then Roderick with impatient look

From Brian's hand the symbol took :

' Speed, Malise, speed ! ' he said, and gave

The crosslet to his henchman brave. 285

' The muster-place be Lanrick mead —

Instant the time — speed, Malise, .speed ! '

Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue,

A barge across Loch Katrine flew :

High stood the henchman on the prow ; 290

So rapidly the barge-men row.

The bubbles, where they launched the boat.

Were all unbroken and afloat,

[75]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

Dancing in foam and ripple still,

When it had neared the mainland hill ; 295

And from the silver beach's side

Still was the prow three fathom wide,

When lightly bounded to the land

The messenger of blood and brand.,

XIII

Speed, Malise, speed ! the dun deer's hide 300

On fleeter foot was never tied.

Speed, Malise, speed ! such cause of haste

Thine active sinews never braced.

Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast,

Burst down like torrent from its crest ; 305

With short and springing footstep pass

The trembling bog and false morass ;

Across the brook like roebuck bound,

And thread the brake like questing hound ;

The crag is high, the scaur is deep, 310

Yet shrink not from the desperate leap :

Parched are thy burning lips and brow,

Y^et by the fountain pause not now ;

Herald of battle, fate, and fear.

Stretch onward in thy fleet career! 315

The wounded hind thou track'st not now,

Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough,

Xor pliest thou now thy flying pace

With rivals in the mountain race ;

But danger, death, and warrior deed 320

Are in thy course — speed, ]Malise, speed !

[76]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

XIV

Fast as the fatal symbol flies,

In arms the huts and hamlets rise ;

From winding glen, from upland brown,

They poured each hardy tenant down. 325

Nor slacked the messenger his pace ;

He showed the sign, he named the place.

And, pressing forward like the wind,

Left clamor and surprise behind.

The fisherman forsook the strand, 330

The swarthy smith took dirk and brand ;

With changed cheer, the mower blithe

Left in the half -cut swath his scythe;

The herds without a keeper strayed.

The plough was in mid-furrow stayed, 335

The falconer tossed his hawk away,

The hunter left the stag at bay;

Prompt at the signal of alarms.

Each son of Alpine rushed to arms ;

So swept the tumult and affray 340

Along the margin of Achray.

Alas, thou lovely lake ! that e'er

Thy banks should echo sounds of fear!

The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep

So stilly on thy bosom deep, ' 345

The lark's blithe carol from the cloud

Seems for the scene too gayly loud.

[78]

THIRD] THE GATHERING

XV

Speed, Malise, speed ! The lake is past,

Duncraggan's huts appear at last.

And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 350

Half hidden in the copse so green ;

There mayst thou rest, thy labor done.

Their lord shall speed the signal on. —

As stoops the hawk upon his prey.

The henchman shot him down the way. 355

What woful accents load the gale ?

The funeral yell, the female wail !

A gallant hunter's sport is o'er,

A valiant warrior fights no more.

Who, in the battle or the chase, 360

At Roderick's side shall fill his place ! —

Within the hall, where torch's ray

Supplies the excluded beams of day.

Lies Duncan on his lowly bier,

And o'er him streams his widow's tear. 365

His stripling son stands mournful by,

His youngest weeps, but knows not why ;

The village maids and matrons round

The dismal coronach resound.

XVI

Coronach

He is gone on the mountain, 370

He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain.

When our need was the sorest.

[79]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

The font, reappearing,

From the rain-drops shall borrow, 375

But to us comes no cheering,

To Duncan no morrow !

The hand of the reaper

Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper 380

Wails manhood in glory. The autumn winds rushing

Waft the leaves that are searest. But our flower was in flushing.

When blighting was nearest. 385

Fleet foot on the correi.

Sage counsel in cumber. Red hand in the foray,

How sound is thy slumber ! Like the dew on the mountain, 390

Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain.

Thou art gone, and forever !

XVII

See Stumah, who, the bier beside.

His master's corpse with wonder eyed, 395

Poor Stumah ! whom his least halloo

Could send like lightning o*er the dew.

Bristles his crest, and points his ears,

As if some stranger step he hears.

[80]

THIRD] THE GATHERING

'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread, 400

Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead,

But headlong haste or deadly fear

Urge the precipitate career.

AH stand aghast : — unheeding all,

The henchman bursts into the hall ; 405

Before the dead man's bier he stood.

Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood ;

' The muster-place is Lanrick mead ;

Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, speed ! '

XVIII

Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, 410

Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign.

In haste the stripling to his side

His father's dirk and broadsword tied ;

But when he saw his mother's eye

Watch' him in speechless agony, 415

Back to her opened arms he flew.

Pressed on her lips a fond adieu, —

'Alas ! ' she sobbed, — ' and yet be gone.

And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son ! '

One look he cast upon the bier, 420

Dashed from his eye the gathering tear.

Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast.

And tossed aloft his bonnet crest,

Then, like the high-bred colt when, freed,

First he essays his fire and speed, 425

He vanished, and o'er moor and moss

Sped forward with the Fiery Cross.

[81]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Suspended was the widow's tear

While yet his footsteps she could hear ;

And when she marked the henchman's eye 430

Wet with unwonted sympathy,

' Kinsman/ she said, ' his race is run

That should have sped thine errand on ;

The oak has fallen, — the sapling bough

Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. 435

Yet trust I well, his duty done,

The orphan's God will guard my son.

And you, in many a danger true.

At Duncan's hest your blades that drew,

To arms, and guard that orphan's head ! 440

Let babes and women wail the dead.'

Then weapon-clang and martial call

Resounded through the funeral hall.

While from the walls the attendant band

Snatched sword and targe with hurried hand ; 445

And short and fitting energy

Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye.

As if the sounds to warrior dear

Might rouse her Duncan from his bier.

But faded soon that borrowed force ; 450

Grief claimed his right, and tears their course.

XIX

Benledi saw the Cross of Fire,

It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire.

O'er dale and hill the summons flew.

Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew ; 455

[82]

THIRD] THE GATHERING

The tear that gathered in his eye

He left the mountain-breeze to dry ;

Until, where Teith's young waters roll

Betwixt him and a wooden knoll

That graced the sable strath with green, 460

The chapel of Saint Bride was seen.

Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge.

But Angus paused not on the edge ;

Though the dark waves danced dizzily.

Though reeled his sympathetic eye, 465

He dashed amid the torrent's roar :

His right hand high the crosslet bore.

His left the pole-axe grasped, to guide

And stay his footing in the tide.

He stumbled twice, — the foam splashed high, 470

With hoarser swell the stream raced by ;

And had he fallen, — forever there.

Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir !

But still, as if in parting life,

Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife, 475

Until the opposing bank he gained.

And up the chapel pathway strained.

XX

A blithesome rout that morning-tide

Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride.

Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 480

To Norman, heir of Armandave,

And, issuing from the Gothic arch.

The bridal now resumed their march.

[83]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

In rude but glad procession came

Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame ; 485

And plaided youth, with jest and jeer,

Which snooded maiden would not hear ;

And children, that, unwitting why,

Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ;

And minstrels, that in measures vied 490

Before the young and bonny bride,

Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose

The tear and blush of morning rose.

With virgin step and bashful hand

She held the kerchief's snowy band. 495

The gallant bridegroom by her side

Beheld his prize with victor's pride,

And the glad mother in her ear

Was closely whispering word of cheer.

AV]

XXI

ho meets them at the churchyard gate ? 500 The messenger of fear and fate ! Haste in his hurried accent lies. And grief is swimming in his eyes. All dripping from the recent flood, Panting and travel-soiled he stood, 505

The fatal sign of fire and sword Held forth, and spoke the appointed word : ' The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed ! ' And must he change so soon the hand 510

Just linked to his by holy band,

[84]

THIRD] THE GATHERING

For the fell Cross of blood and brand ?

And must the day so blithe that rose,

And promised rapture in the close,

Before its setting hour, divide 515

The bridegroom from the plighted bride ?

O fatal doom ! — it must ! it must !

Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust.

Her summons dread, brook no delay ;

Stretch to the race, — away ! away ! 520

XXII

Yet slow he laid his plaid aside.

And lingering eyed his lovely bride,

Until he saw the starting tear

Speak woe he might not stop to cheer ;

Then, trusting not a second look, 525

In haste he sped him up the brook.

Nor backward glanced till on the heath

Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. —

What in the racer's bosom stirred ?

The sickening pang of hope deferred, 530

And memory with a torturing train

Of all his morning visions vain.

Mingled with love's impatience, came

The manly thirst for martial fame ;

The stormy joy of mountaineers 535

Ere yet they rush upon the spears ;

And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning,

And hope, from well-fought field returning,

[85]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

With war's red honors on his crest,

To clasp his Mary to his breast. 540

Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae,

Like fire from flint he glanced away.

While high resolve and feeling strong

Burst into voluntary song.

XXIII

The heath this night must be my bed, 545

The bracken curtain for my head, My lullaby the warder's tread,

Far, far, from love and thee, Mary ; To-morrow eve, more stilly laid. My couch may be my bloody plaid, 550

My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid !

It will not waken me, Mary !

I may not, dare not, fancy now

The grief that clouds thy lovely brow,

I dare not think upon thy vow, 555

And all it promised me, Mary. No fond regret must Norman know ; When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe. His heart must be like bended bow,

His foot like arrow free, Mary. 560

A time will come with feeling fraught, For, if I fall in battle fought. Thy hapless lover's dying thought

Shall be a thought on thee, Mary, [86]

THE GATHERING

And if returned from conquered foes, 565

How blithely will the evening close, How sweet the linnet sing repose.

To my young bride and me, Mary !

XXIV

Not faster o'er thy heathery braes,

Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 570

Rushing in conflagration strong

Thy deep ravines and dells along.

Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow,

And reddening the dark lakes below ;

Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, 575

As o'er thy heaths the voice of war.

The signal roused to martial coil

The sullen margin of Loch Voil,

Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source

Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course ; 580

Thence southward turned its rapid road

Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad.

Till rose in arms each man might claim

A portion in Clan-Alpine's name.

From the gray sire, whose trembling hand 585

Could hardly buckle on his brand.

To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow

Were yet scarce terror to the crow.

Each valley, each sequestered glen,

Mustered its little horde of men, 590

[87]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

That met as torrents from the height

In Highland dales their streams unite,

Still gathering, as they pour along, •

A voice more loud, a tide more strong,

Till at the rendezvous they stood 595

By hundreds prompt for blows and blood,

Each trained to arms since life began,

Owning no tie but to his clan.

No oath but by his chieftain's hand.

No law but Roderick Dhu's command. 600

XXV

That summer morn had Roderick Dhu Surveyed the skirts of Ben venue, And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath. To view the frontiers of Menteith. All backward came with news of truce ; 605

Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce, In Rednock courts no horsemen wait. No banner waved on Cardross gate, On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, Nor scared the herons from Loch Con ; 610

All seemed at peace. — Now wot ye why The Chieftain with such anxious eye, Ere to the muster he repair, This western frontier scanned with care ? — In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, 615

A fair though cruel pledge was left ; For Douglas, to his promise true. That morning from the isle withdrew, [88]

THE GATHERING

And in a deep sequestered dell

Had sought a low and lonely cell. 620

By many a bard in Celtic tongue

Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung ;

A softer name the Saxons gave,

And called the grot the Goblin Cave.

XXVI

It was a wild and strange retreat, 625

As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet.

The dell, upon the mountain's crest.

Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast ;

Its trench had stayed full many a rock,

Hurled by primeval earthquake shock 630

From Benvenue's gray summit wild.

And here, in random ruin piled.

They frowned incumbent o'er the spot,

And formed the rugged sylvan grot.

The oak and birch with mingled shade 635

At noontide there a twilight made.

Unless when short and sudden shone

Some straggling beam on cliff or stone.

With such a glimpse as prophet's eye

Gains on thy depth, Futurity. 640

No murmur waked the solemn still.

Save tinkling of a fountain rill ;

But when the wind chafed with the lake,

A sullen sound would upward break.

With dashing hollow voice, that spoke 645

The incessant war of wave and rock.

[89]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

Suspended cliffs with hideous sway

Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray.

From such a den the wolf had sprung,

In such the wild-cat leaves her young ; 650

Yet Douglas and his daughter fair

Sought for a space their safety there.

Gray Superstition's whisper dread

Debarred the spot to vulgar tread ;

For there, she said, did fays resort, 655

And satyrs hold their sylvan court.

By moonlight tread their mystic maze,

And blast the rash beholder's gaze.

XXVII

Now eve, with western shadows long.

Floated on Katrine bright and strong, 660

When Roderick with a chosen few

Repassed the heights of Benvenue.

Above the Goblin Cave they go,

Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo ;

The prompt retainers speed before, 665

To launch the shallop from the shore,

For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way

To view the passes of Achray,

And place his clansmen in array.

Yet lags the Chief in musing mind, 670

Unwonted sight, his men behind.

A single page, to bear his sword.

Alone attended on his lord ;

The rest their way through thickets break,

[90]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

And soon await him by the lake. 675

It was a fair and gallant sight,

To view them from the neighboring height,

By the low-levelled sunbeam's light !

For strength and stature, from the clan

Each warrior was a chosen man, 680

As even afar might well be seen,

By their proud step and martial mien.

Their feathers dance, their tartans float,

Their targets gleam, as by the boat

A wild and warlike group they stand, 685

That w^ell became such mountain-strand.

XXVHI

Their Chief with step reluctant still

Was lingering on the craggy hill.

Hard by where turned apart the road

To Douglas's obscure abode. 690

It was but with that dawning morn

That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn

To drown his love in war's wild roar.

Nor think of Ellen Douglas more ;

But he who stems a stream with sand, 695

And fetters flame with flaxen band.

Has yet a harder task to prove, ■ —

By firm resolve to conquer love !

Eve finds the Chief, like restless. ghost.

Still hovering near his treasure lost ; 700

For though his haughty heart deny

A parting meeting to his eye,

[92]

THIRD] THE GATHERING

Still fondly strains his anxious ear

The accents of her voice to hear,

And inly did he curse the breeze 705

That waked to sound the rustling trees.

But hark ! what mingles in the strain ?

It is the harp of Allan-bane,

That wakes its measure slow and high.

Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 710

What melting voice attends the strings ?

'T is Ellen, or an angel, sings.

XXIX Hymn to the Virgin

Ave Maria ! maiden mild !

Listen to a maiden's prayer ! Thou canst hear though from the wild, 715

Thou canst save amid despair. Safe may we sleep beneath thy care,

Though banished, outcast, and reviled — Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ;

Mother, hear a suppliant child ! 720

Ave Maria !

Ave Maria ! undefiled !

The flinty couch we now must share Shall seem with down of eider piled,

If thy protection hover there. The murky cavern's heavy air 725

Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled ;

[93]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Then, Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer, Mother, Hst a suppHant child !

Ave Maria !

Ave Maria ! stainless styled !

Foul demons of the earth and air, 730

From this their wonted haunt exiled.

Shall flee before thy presence fair. We bow us to our lot of care.

Beneath thy guidance reconciled : Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, 735

And for a father hear a child !

Ave Maria !

XXX

Died on the harp the closing hymn, —

Unmoved in attitude and limb,

As listening still, Clan-Alpine's lord

Stood leaning on his heavy sword, 740

Until the page with humble sign

Twice pointed to the sun's decline.

Then while his plaid he round him cast,

' It is the last time — 't is the last,'

He muttered thrice, — 'the last time e'er 745

That angel-voice shall Roderick hear ! '

It was a goading thought, — his stride

Hied hastier down the mountain-side ;

Sullen he flung him in the boat.

An instant 'cross the lake it shot. 750

They landed in that silvery bay.

And eastward held their hasty way,

[94]

THIRD] THE GATHERING

Till, with the latest beams of light,

The band arrived on Lanrick height.

Where mustered in the vale below 755

Clan-Alpine's men in martial show.

XXXI

A various scene the clansmen made :

Some sat, some stood, some slowly strayed ;

But most, with mantles folded round.

Were couched to rest upon the ground, 760

Scarce to be known by curious eye

From the deep heather where they lie.

So well was matched the tartan screen

With heath-bell dark and brackens green ;

Unless where, here and there, a blade 765

Or lance's point a glimmer made.

Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade.

But when, advancing through the gloom.

They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume.

Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide, 770

Shook the steep mountain's steady side.

Thrice it arose, and lake and fell

Three times returned the martial yell ;

It died upon Bochastle's plain.

And Silence claimed her evening reign. 775

[95]

CANTO FOURTH

THE PROPHECY

^HE rose is fairest when 't is budding new,

And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears ; IL The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, And love is loveHest when embalmed in tears. O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 5

I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave,

Emblem of hope and love through future years ! ' Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave.

II

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, His axe and bow beside him lay, For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood A wakeful sentinel he stood. Hark ! — on the rock a footstep rung. And instant to his arms he sprung.

[97]

IS

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

* Stand, or thou diest! — What, Mahse? — soon Art thou returned from Braes of Doune.

By thy keen step and glance I know, ,20

Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe/ — For while the Fiery Cross hied on, On distant scout had Malise gone. — 'Where sleeps the Chief?' the henchman said.

* Apart, in yonder misty glade ; 25 To his lone couch I '11 be your guide.' —

Then called a slumberer by his side,

And stirred him with his slackened bow, —

* Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho !

We seek the Chieftain ; on the track 30

Keep eagle watch till I come back/

III

Together up the pass they sped.

' What of the foeman ? ' Norman said. —

* Varying reports from near and far ; • This certain, — that a band of war 35 Has for two days been ready boune.

At prompt command to march from Doune ;

King James the while, with princely powers.

Holds revelry in Stirling towers.

Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 40

Speak on our glens in thunder loud.

Inured to bide such bitter bout.

The warrior's plaid may bear it out;

But, Norman, how wilt thou provide

A shelter for thy bonny bride }' — 45

[98]

I

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

' What ! know ye not that Roderick's care

To the lone isle hath caused repair

Each maid and matron of the clan,

And every child and aged man

Unfit for arms ; and given his charge, 50

Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge,

Upon these lakes shall float at large.

But all beside the islet moor,

That such dear pledge may rest secure ? ' —

IV

' 'T is well advised, — the Chieftain^s plan 55

Bespeaks the father of his clan.

But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu

Apart from all his followers true ? '

' It is because last evening-tide

Brian an augury hath tried, 60

Of that dread kind which must not be

Unless in dread extremity.

The Taghairm called ; by which, afar.

Our sires foresaw the events of war.

Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew.' — 65

MALISE

'Ah! well the gallant brute I knew!

The choicest of the prey we had

When swept our merry men Gallangad.

His hide was snow, his horns were dark.

His red eye glowed like fiery spark ; 70

So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet.

Sore did he cumber our retreat,

[99]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

And kept our stoutest kerns in awe,

Even at the pass of Beal 'maha.

But steep and flinty was the road, 75

And sharp the hurr}dng pikeman's goad.

And when we came to Dennan's Row

A child might scathless stroke his brow/

V

NORMAN

' That bull was slain ; his reeking hide They stretched the cataract beside, 80

Whose waters their wild tumult toss Adown the black and craggy boss Of that huge cliff whose ample verge Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. Couched on a shelf beneath its brink, 85

Close where the thundering torrents sink, Rocking beneath their headlong sway. And drizzled by the ceaseless spray. Midst groan of rock and roar of stream, The wizard waits prophetic dream. 90

Nor distant rests the Chief ; — but hush ! See, gliding slow through mist and bush, The hermit gains yon rock, and stands To gaze upon our slumbering bands. Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost, 95

That hovers o'er a slaughtered host ? Or raven on the blasted oak, That, watching while the deer is broke, ' His morsel claims with sullen croak ? ' [100]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

MALISE

* Peace ! peace ! to other than to me loo

Thy words were evil augury ;

But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade

Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid,

Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell,

Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell. 105

The Chieftain joins him, see — and now

Together they descend the brow.'

VI

And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord

The Hermit Monk held solemn word : —

' Roderick! it is a fearful strife, no

For man endowed with mortal life.

Whose shroud of sentient clay can still

Feel feverish pang and fainting chill,

Whose eye can stare in stony trance.

Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance, — 115

'Tis hard for such to view, unfurled.

The curtain of the future world.

Yet, witness every quaking limb.

My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim,

My soul with harrowing anguish torn, 120

This for my Chieftain have I borne ! —

The shapes that sought my fearful couch

A human tongue may ne'er avouch ;

No mortal man — save he, who, bred

Between the living and the dead, 125

Is gifted beyond nature's law —

[lOl]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Had e'er survived to say he saw.

At length the fateful answer came

In characters of living flame !

Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, 130

But borne and branded on my soul : —

Which spills the foremost foeman's life,

That party conquers in the strife/

VII

' Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care !

Good is thine augury, and fair. 135

Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood

But first our broadswords tasted blood.

A surer victim still I know,

Self-offered to the auspicious blow :

A spy has sought my land this morn, — 140

No eve shall witness his return !

My followers guard each pass's mouth,

To east, to westward, and to south ;

Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide,

Has charge to lead his steps aside, 145

Till in deep path or dingle brown

He light on those shall bring him down. —

But see, who comes his news to show !

Malise ! what tidings of the foe ? *

VIII

* At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive 150 Two Barons proud their banners wave. I saw the Moray's silver star, And marked the sable pale of Mar.' [102]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

' By Alpine's soul, high tidings those !

I love to hear of worthy foes. 155

When move they on ? ' ' To-morrow's noon

Will see them here for battle boune/

* Then shall it see a meeting stern !

But, for the place, — say, couldst thou learn

Nought of the friendly clans of Earn? 160

Strengthened by them, we well might bide

The battle on Benledi's side.

Thou couldst not ? — well ! Clan- Alpine's men

Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen ;

Within Loch Katrine's gorge we '11 fight, 165

All in our maids' and matrons' sight,

Each for his hearth and household fire,

Father for child, and son for sire,

Lover for maid beloved ! — But why —

Is it the breeze affects mine eye ? 170

Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear !

A messenger of doubt or fear ?

No ! sooner may the Saxon lance

Unfix Benledi from his stance,

Than doubt or terror can pierce through 175

The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu !

'T is stubborn as his trusty targe.

Each to his post! — all know their charge.'

The pibroch sounds, the bands advance.

The broadswords gleam, the banners dance, 180

Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. —

I turn me from the martial roar,

And seek Coir-Uriskin once more.

[ 103 ]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

IX

Where is the Douglas ? — he is gone ;

And Ellen sits on the gray stone 185

Fast by the cave, and makes her moan,

While vainly Allan's words of cheer

Are poured on her unheeding ear.

' He will return — dear lady, trust ! —

With joy return ; — he will — he must. 190

Well was it time to seek afar

Some refuge from impending war,

When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm

Are cowed by the approaching storm. *

I saw their boats with many a light, 195

Floating the livelong yesternight.

Shifting like flashes darted forth

By the red streamers of the north ;

I marked at morn how close they ride,

Thick moored by the lone islet's side, 200

Like wild ducks couching in the fen

When stoops the hawk upon the glen.

Since this rude race dare not abide

The peril on the mainland side,

Shall not thy noble father's care 205

Some safe retreat for thee prepare ? '

X

ELLEN

' No, Allan, no ! Pretext so kind My wakeful terrors could not blind. [104]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

When in such tender tone, yet grave,

Douglas a parting blessing gave, 210

The tear that glistened in his eye

Drowned not his purpose fixed and high.

My soul, though feminine and weak.

Can image his ; e'en as the lake.

Itself disturbed by slightest stroke, 215

Reflects the invulnerable rock.

He hears report of battle rife.

He deems himself the cause of strife.

I saw him redden when the theme

Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream 220

Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound.

Which I, thou saidst, about him wound.

Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught ?

O no ! 't was apprehensive thought

For the kind youth, — for Roderick too — 225

Let me be just — that friend so true ;

In danger both, and in our cause !

Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause.

Why else that solemn warning given,

''If not on earth, we meet in heaven ! " 230

Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane,

If eve return him not again.

Am I to hie and make me known ?

Alas, he goes to Scotland's throne,

Buys his friends' safety with his own ; 235

He goes to do — what I had done.

Had Douglas' daughter been his son ! '

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [ganto

XI

' Nay, lovely Ellen ! — dearest, nay !

If aught should his return delay,

He only named yon holy fane " 240

As fitting place to meet again.

Be sure he 's safe ; and for the Graeme, —

Heaven's blessing on his gallant nam.e ! —

I\Iy visioned sight may yet prove true.

Nor bode of ill to him or you. 245

When did my gifted dream beguile?

Think of the stranger at the isle,

And think upon the harpings slow

That presaged this approaching woe !

Sooth was my prophecy of fear ; 250

Believe it when it augurs cheer.

Would we had left this dismal spot !

Ill luck still haunts a fair}' grot.

Of such a wondrous tale I know —

Dear lady, change that look of woe, 255

My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.'

ELLEN

' Well, be it as thou wilt ; I hear,

But cannot stop the bursting tear.'

The Minstrel tried his simple art.

But distant far was Ellen's heart. 260

[106]

FOURTH] ^ THE PROPHECY

XII Ballad — Alice Brand

Merry it is in the good greenwood,

When the mavis and merle are singing, When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry.

And the hunter's horn is ringing.

' O AHce Brand, my native land 265

Is lost for love of you ; And we must hold by wood and wold.

As outlaws wont to do.

* O Alice, 't was all for thy locks so bright.

And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, 270

That on the night, of our luckless flight Thy brother bold I slew.

* Now must I teach to hew the beech

The hand that held the glaive. For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 275

And stakes to fence our cave.

* And for vest of pall, thy fingers small.

That wont on harp to stray, r^

A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer,

To keep the cold away.' : ^ 280

VO Richard ! if my brother died, : -.1 'Twas but a fatal chance; ^- ^ \ : * : 1

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

For darkling was the battle tried, And fortune sped the lance.

' If pall and vair no more I wear, 285

Nor thou the crimson sheen, As warm, we '11 say, is the russet gray.

As gay the forest-green.

'And, Richard, if our lot be hard,

And lost thy native land, 290

Still Alice has her own Richard,

And he his Alice Brand/

XIII

Ballad Contiimed

'T is merry, 't is merr}-, in good greenwood ;

So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, 295

Lord Richard's axe is ringing.

Up spoke the moody Elfin King,

Who woned within the hill, — Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,

His voice was ghostly shrill. 300

' Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak,

Our moonlight circle's screen ? Or who comes here to chase the deer,

Beloved of our Elfin Queen ? Or who may dare on wold to wear 305

The fairies* fatal green t

[108]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

' Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie,

For thou wert christened man ; For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,

For muttered word or ban, 310

' Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,

The curse of the sleepless eye ; Till he wish and pray that his life would part,

Nor yet find leave to die/

XIV Ballad Conti7itied

'T is merry, 't is merr)', in good greenwood, 315

Though the birds have stilled their singing ;

The evening blaze doth Alice raise, And Richard is fagots bringing.

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf.

Before Lord Richard stands, 320

And, as he crossed and blessed himself, ' I fear not sign,' quoth the grisly elf,

* That is made with bloody hands/

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,

That woman void of fear,' — 325

'And if there's blood upon his hand, 'T is but the blood of deer.'

' Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood ! It cleaves unto his hand,

[109]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

The stain of thine own kindly blood, 330

The blood of Ethert, Brand.'

Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,

And made the holy sign, — 'And if there's blood on Richard's hand,

A spotless hand is mine. 335

'And I conjure thee, demon elf,

By Him whom demons fear. To show us whence thou art thyself,

And what thine errand here .? '

XV

Ballad Coiitimced

' 'T is merry, 't is merry, in Fairy-land, 340

When fairy birds are singing, When the court doth ride by their monarch's side.

With bit and bridle ringing :

'And gayly shines the Fairy-land —

But all is glistening show, 345

Like the idle gleam that December's beam

Can dart on ice and snow.

'And fading, like that varied gleam,

Is our inconstant shape. Who now like knight and lady seem, 350

And now like dwarf and ape. [no]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

' It was between the night and day,

When the Fairy King has power, That I sunk down in a sinful fray, And 'twixt Hfe and death was snatched away 355

To the joyless Elfin bower.

' But wist I of a woman bold,

Who thrice my brow durst sign, I might regain my mortal mould.

As fair a form as thine/ 360

She crossed him once — she crossed him twice —

That lady was so brave ; The fouler grew his goblin hue,

The darker grew the cave.

She crossed him thrice, that lady bold ; 365

He rose beneath her hand The fairest knight on Scottish mould,

Her brother, Ethert Brand !

Merry it is in good greenwood.

When the mavis and merle are singing, 370

But merrier were they in Dunfermline gfay, ^1^^ When all the bells were ringing.^/^

^ XVI

Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed,

A stranger climbed the steepy glade ;

His martial step, his stately mien, 375

His hunting-suit of Lincoln green,

[III]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

His eagle glance, remembrance claims —

'T is Snowdoun's Knight, 't is James Fitz-James.

Ellen beheld as in a dream,

Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream : 380

' O stranger ! in such hour of fear

What evil hap has brought thee here ? '

'An evil hap how can it be

That bids me look again on thee ?

By promise bound, my former guide 385

Met me betimes this morning-tide,

And marshalled over bank and bourne

The happy path of my return.'

' The happy path !. — what ! said he naught

Of war, of battle to be fought, 390

Of guarded pass ? ' ' No, by my faith !

Nor saw I aught could augur scathe/

' O haste thee, Allan, to the kern :

Yonder his tartans I discern ;

Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 395

That he will guide the stranger sure ! —

What prompted thee, unhappy man ?

The meanest serf in Roderick's clan

Had not been bribed, by love or fear,

Unknown to him to guide thee here/. 400

XVII

* Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be,

Since it is worthy care from thee ;

Yet life I hold but idle breath

When love or honor 's weighed with death.

[112]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

Then let me profit by my chance, 405

And speak my purpose bold at once.

I come to bear thee from a wild

Where ne'er before such blossom smiled,

By this soft hand to lead thee far

From frantic scenes of feud and war. 410

Near Bochastle my horses wait ;

They bear us soon to Stirling gate.

I '11 place thee in a lovely bower,

I '11 guard thee like a tender flower — '

'O hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art, 415

To say I do not read thy heart ;

Too much, before, my selfish ear

Was idly soothed my praise to hear.

That fatal bait hath lured thee back.

In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track ; 420

And how, O how, can I atone

The wreck my vanity brought on ! —

One way remains — I '11 tell him all —

Yes ! struggling bosom, forth it shall !

Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, 425

Buy thine own pardon with thy shame !

But first — my father is a man

Outlawed and exiled, under ban ;

The price of blood is on his head.

With me 'twere infamy to wed. 430

Still wouldst thou speak ? — then hear the truth !

Fitz-James, there is a noble youth —

If yet he is ! — exposed for me

And mine to dread extremity —

["3]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

Thou hast the secret of my heart; 435

Forgive, be generous, and depart ! V

XVIII :

Fitz-James knew every wily train

A lady's fickle heart to gain,

But here he knew and felt them vain.

There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, ■ 440

To give her steadfast speech the lie ;

In maiden confidence she stood.

Though mantled in her cheek the blood.

And told her love with such a sigh

Of deep and hopeless agony, 445

As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom

And she sat sorrowing on his tomb.

Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye.

But not with hope fled sympathy.

He proffered to attend her side, 450

As brother would a sister guide.

' O little know'st thou Roderick's heart !

Safer for both we go apart.

O haste thee, and from Allan learn

If thou mayst trust yon wily kern.' 455

With hand upon his forehead laid.

The conflict of his mind to shade,

A parting step or two he made ;

Then, as some thought had crossed his brain.

He paused, and turned, and came again. 460

["4]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

XIX

' Hear, lady, yet a parting word ! —

It chanced in fight that my poor sword

Preserved the Hfe of Scotland's lord.

This ring the grateful Monarch gave,

And bade, when I had boon to crave, 465

To bring it back, and boldly claim

The recompense that I would name.

Ellen, I am no courtly lord,

But one who lives by lance and sword,

Whose castle is his helm and shield, 470

His lordship the embattled field.

What from a prince can I demand.

Who neither reck of state nor land ?

Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ;

Each guard and usher knows the sign. 475

Seek thou the King without delay ;

This signet shall secure thy way :

And claim thy suit, whatever it be.

As ransom of his pledge to me.'

He placed the golden circlet on, 480

Paused — kissed her hand — and then was gone.

The aged Minstrel stood aghast.

So hastily Fitz-James shot past.

He joined his guide, and wending down

The ridges of the mountain brown, 485

Across the stream they took their way

That joins Loch Katrine to Achray.

[116]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

XX

All in the Trosachs' glen was still,

Noontide was sleeping on the hill :

Sudden his guide whooped loud and high — 490

' Murdoch ! was that a signal cry ? ' —

He stammered forth, ' I shout to scare

Yon raven from his dainty fare/

He looked — he knew the raven's prey,

His own brave steed : ' Ah ! gallant gray ! 495

For thee — for me, perchance — 't were well

We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. —

Murdoch, move first — but silently ;

Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die ! '

Jealous and sullen on they fared, 500

Each silent, each upon his guard.

XXI

Now wound the path its dizzy ledge

Around a precipice's edge.

When lo ! a wasted female form,

Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, 505

In tattered weeds and wild array.

Stood on a cliff beside the way.

And glancing round her restless eye,

Upon the wood, the rock, the sky.

Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy. 510

Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom ;

With gesture wild she waved a plume

Of feathers, which the eagles fling

To crag and cliff from dusky wing ;

[117]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Such spoils her desperate step had sought, 515

Where scarce was footing for the goat.

The tartan plaid she first descried,

And shrieked till all the rocks replied ;

As loud she laughed when near they drew,

For then the Lowland garb she knew ; 520

And then her hands she wildly wrung,

And then she wept, and then she sung —

She sung ! — the voice, in better time.

Perchance to harp or lute might chime ;

And now, though strained and roughened, still 525

Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill.

XXII Song

They bid me sleep, they bid me pray,

They say my brain is warped and wrung —

I cannot sleep on Highland brae,

I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 530

But were I now where Allan glides.

Or heard my native Devan's tides.

So sweetly would I rest, and pray

That Heaven would close my wintry day ! ~

'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid, 535

They made me to the church repair ;

It was my bridal morn, they said.

And my true love would meet me there.

But woe betide the cruel guile

That drowned in blood the .morning smile If 540

["8]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

And woe betide the fairy dream ! I only waked to sob and scream.

XXIII

* Who is this maid ? what means her lay ? She hovers o'er the hollow way, And flutters wide her mantle gray, 545

As the lone heron spreads his wing, By twilight, o'er a haunted spring/ *'Tis Blanche of Devan,' Murdoch said, ' A crazed and captive Lowland maid, Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, 550

When Roderick forayed Devan-side. The gay bridegroom resistance made, And felt our Chief's unconquered blade. I marvel she is now at large.

But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge. — 555 Hence, brain-sick fool ! ' — He raised his bow : — ' Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow, I '11 pitch thee from the cliff as far As ever peasant pitched a bar ! ' ' Thanks, champion, thanks ! ' the Maniac cried, 560 And pressed her to Fitz-James's side. ' See the gray pennons I prepare. To seek my true love through the air ! I will not lend that savage groom. To break his fall, one downy plume ! 565

No ! — deep amid disjointed stones. The wolves shall batten on his bones, . And then shall his detested plaid, [119]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

By bush and brier in mid-air stayed,

Wave forth a banner fair and free, 570

Meet signal for their revelry,'

XXIV

' Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still ! '

' O ! thou look'st kindly, and I will.

Mine eye has dried and wasted been,

But still it loves the Lincoln green ; 575

And, though mine ear is all unstrung.

Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue.

' For O, my sweet William was forester true. He stole poor Blanche's heart away !

His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, 580

And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay !

' It was not that I meant to tell . . .

But thou art wise and guessest well.'

Then, in a low and broken tone.

And hurried note, the song went on. 585

Still on the Clansman fearfully

She fixed her apprehensive eye.

Then turned it on the Knight, and then

Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen.

XXV

' The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set, — 590

Ever sing merrily, merrily ; The bows they bend, and the knives they whet.

Hunters live so cheerily.

[120]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

' It was a stag, a stag of ten,

Bearing its branches sturdily ; 595

He came stately down the glen, —

Ever sing hardily, hardily.

* It was there he met with a wounded doe,

She was bleeding deathfully ; She warned him of the toils below, 600

O, so faithfully, faithfully !

' He had an eye, and he could heed, —

Ever sing warily, warily ; He had a foot, and he could speed, —

Hunters watch so narrowly/ 605

XXVI

Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed.

When Ellen's hints and fears were lost;

But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought,

And Blanche's song conviction brought.

Not like a stag that spies the snare, 610

But lion of the hunt aware.

He waved at once his blade on high,

' Disclose thy treachery, or die ! '

Forth at full speed the Clansman flew,

But in his race his bow he drew. 615

The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest.

And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast. —

Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed.

For ne'er had Alpine's son such need ;

B [121]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 620

The fierce avenger is behind !

Fate judges of the rapid strife —

The forfeit death — the prize is Hfe ;

Thy kindred ambush hes before,

Close couched upon the heathery moor; 625

Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not be —

Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see.

The fiery Saxon gains on thee ! —

Resistless speeds the deadly thrust,

As lightning strikes the pine to dust ; 630

With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain

Ere he can win his blade again.

Bent o'er the fallen with falcon eye.

He grimly smiled to see him die,

Then slower wended back his way, 635

Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.

XXVII

She sat beneath the birchen tree, Her elbow resting on her knee; She had withdrawn the fatal shaft. And gazed on it, and feebly laughed ; 640

Her wreath of broom and feathers gray. Daggled with blood, beside her lay. The Knight to stanch the life-stream tried, — * Stranger, it is in vain ! ' she cried. ' This hour of death has given me more 645

Of reason's power than years before ; [122]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

For, as these ebbing veins decay,

My frenzied visions fade away.

A helpless injured wretch I die,

And something tells me in thine eye 650

That thou wert my avenger born.

Seest thou this tress ? — O, still I Ve worn

This little tress of yellow hair.

Through danger, frenzy, and despair !

It once was bright and clear as thine, 655

But blood and tears have dimmed its shine.

I will not tell thee when 't was shred.

Nor from what guiltless victim's head, —

My brain would turn ! — but it shall wave

Like plumage on thy helmet brave, 660

Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain.

And thou wilt bring it me again.

I waver still. — O God ! more bright

Let reason beam her parting light ! —

O, by thy knighthood's honored sign, 665

And for thy life preserved by mine,

When thou shalt see a darksome man.

Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan,

With tartans broad and shadowy plume.

And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, 670

Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong,

And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong ! —

They watch for thee by pass and fell . . .

Avoid the path . . . O God ! . . . farewell ! '

[123]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

XXVIII

A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James ; 675

Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims ; And now, with mingled grief and ire, He saw the murdered maid expire. ' God, in my need, be my relief. As I wreak this on yonder Chief ! ' 680

A lock from Blanche's tresses fair He blended with her bridegroom's hair ; The mingled braid in blood he dyed. And placed it on his bonnet-side : ' By Him whose word is truth, I swear, 685

No other favor will I wear. Till this sad token I imbrue In the best blood of Roderick Dhu ! — But hark ! what means yon faint halloo ? The chase is up, — but they shall know, 690

The stag at bay 's a dangerous foe/ Barred from the known but guarded way, Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray, And oft must change his desperate track. By stream and precipice turned back. 695

Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length. From lack of food and loss of strength. He couched him in a thicket hoar, And thought his toils and perils o'er : — ' Of all my rash adventures past, 700

This frantic feat must prove the last ! Who e'er so mad but might have guessed That all this Highland hornet's nest [124]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

Would muster up in swarms so soon

As e'er they heard of bands at Doune? — 705

Like bloodhounds now they search me out, —

Hark, to the whistle and the shout ! —

If farther through the wilds I go,

I only fall upon the foe :

I '11 couch me here till evening gray, 710

Then darkling try my dangerous way/

XXIX

The shades of eve come slowly down,

The woods are wrapt in deeper brown,

The owl awakens from her dell,

The fox is heard upon the fell ; 715

Enough remains of glimmering light

To guide the wanderer's steps aright,

Yet not enough from far to show

His figure to the watchful foe.

With cautious step and ear awake, 720

He climbs the crag and threads the brake ;

And not the summer solstice there

Tempered the midnight mountain air.

But every breeze that swept the wold

Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. 725

In dread, in danger, and alone,

Famished and chilled, through ways unknown,

Tangled and steep, he journeyed on ;

Till, as a rock's huge point he turned,

A watch-fire close before him burned. 730

[125]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

XXX

Beside its embers red and clear,

Basked in his plaid a mountaineer ;

And up he sprung with sword in hand, —

' Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand ! '

'A stranger.' 'What dost thou require?' 735

' Rest and a guide, and food and fire.

My life's beset, my path is lost.

The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.'

' Art thou a friend to Roderick ? ' ' No.'

' Thou dar'st not call thyself a foe } ' 740

' I dare ! to him and all the band

He brings to aid his murderous hand.'

' Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game

The privilege of chase may claim.

Though space and law the stag we lend, 745

Ere hound we slip or bow we bend.

Who ever recked, where, how, or when.

The prowling fox was trapped or slain .^

Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie.

Who say thou cam'st a secret spy ! ' — 750

' They do, by heaven ! — come Roderick Dhu,

And of his clan the boldest two.

And let me but till morning rest,

I write the falsehood on their crest.'

' If by the blaze I mark aright, 755

Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight.'

' Then by these tokens mayst thou know

Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.'

[126]

FOURTH] THE PROPHECY

' Enough, enough ; sit down and share

A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.' 760

XXXI

He gave him of his Highland cheer,

The hardened flesh of mountain deer;

Dry fuel on the fire he laid,

And bade the Saxon share his plaid.

He tended him like welcome guest, 765

Then thus his further speech addressed : —

' Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu

A clansman born, a kinsman true;

Each word against his honor spoke

Demands of me avenging stroke ; 770

Yet more, — upon thy fate, 't is said,

A mighty augury is laid.

It rests with me to wind my horn, —

Thou art with numbers overborne ;

It rests with me, here, brand to brand, 775

Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand :

But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause.

Will I depart from honor's laws ;

To assail a wearied man were shame,

And stranger is a holy name ; 780

Guidance and rest, and food and fire.

In vain he never must require.

Then rest thee here till dawn of day ;

Myself will guide thee on the way.

O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward, 785

Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

As far as Coilantogle's ford ;

From thence thy warrant is thy sword/

' I take thy courtesy, by heaven,

As freely as 't is nobly given ! ' 790

' Well, rest thee ; for the bittern's cry

Sings us the lake's wild lullaby.'

With that he shook the gathered heath,

And spread his plaid upon the wreath ;

And the brave foemen, side by side, 795

Lay peaceful down like brothers tried,

And slept until the dawning beam

vPurpled the mountain and the stream.

[128 J

CANTO FIFTH

THE COMBAT

^^AIR as the earliest beam of eastern light,

H When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied,

J_L It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, And lights the fearful path on mountain-side, —

Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, Giving to horror grace, to danger pride,

Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star.

Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War.

II

That early beam, so fair and sheen, , lo

Was twinkling through the hazel screen. When, rousing at its ghmmer red, The warriors left their lowly bed, Looked out upon the dappled sky. Muttered their soldier matins by, 15

[129]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

And then awaked their fire, to steal, As short and rude, their soldier meal. That o'er, the, Gael around him threw \

His graceful plaid of varied hue, And, true to promise, led the way, 20

-By thicket green and mountain gray. A wildering path ! — they winded now Along the precipice's brow. Commanding the rich scenes beneath. The windings of the Forth and Teith, 25

And all the vales between that lie. Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky ; Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance Gained not the length of horseman's lance. 'T was oft so steep, the foot was fain 30

Assistance from the hand to gain ; So tangled oft that, bursting through. Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew, — That diamond dew, so pure and clear, It rivals all but Beauty's tear ! 35

III

At length they came where, stern and steep,

The hill sinks down upon the deep.

Here Vennachar in silver flows,

There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose ;

Ever the hollow path twined on, 40

Beneath steep bank and threatening stone ;

A hundred men might hold the post

With hardihood against a host

1 130 J

THE COMBAT

The rugged mountain's scanty cloak

Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, 45

With shingles bare, and cliffs between.

And patches bright of bracken green.

And heather black, that waved so high.

It held the copse in rivalry.

But where the lake slept deep and still, 50

Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill ;

And oft both path and hill were torn.

Where wintry torrent down had borne.

And heaped upon the cumbered land

Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 55

So toilsome was the road to trace.

The guide, abating of his pace.

Led slowly through the pass's jaws,

And asked Fitz-James by what strange cause

He sought these wilds, traversed by few, 60

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.

IV

' Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried,

Hangs in my belt and by my side ;

Yet, sooth to tell,' the Saxon said,

' I dreamt not now to claim its aid. 65

When here, but three days since, I came,

Bewildered in pursuit of game.

All seemed as peaceful and as. still

As the mist slumbering on yon hill ;

Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, 70

Nor soon expected back from war.

[131]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide, Though deep perchance the villain lied.' ' Yet why a second venture try ? ' * A warrior thou, and ask me why ! — 75

Moves our free course by such fixed cause •As gives the poor mechanic laws ? Enough, I sought to drive away The lazy hours of peaceful day ; Slight cause will then suffice to guide 80

A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed. The merry glance of mountain maid ; Or, if a path be dangerous known. The danger's self is lure alone.' 85

' Thy secret keep, I urge thee not ; —

Yet, ere again ye sought this spot,

Say, heard ye naught of Lowland war.

Against Clan- Alpine, raised by ]\Iar ? '

' No, by my word ; — of bands prepared 90

To guard King James's sports I heard ;

Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear

This muster of the mountaineer,

Their pennons will abroad be flung.

Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.' 95

' Free be they flung ! for we w^ere loath

Their silken folds should feast the moth.

Free be thev fluno^ ! — as free shall wave

Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave.

[132]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

But, stranger, peaceful since you came, loo

Bewildered in the mountain-game.

Whence the bold boast by which you show

Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe ? '

' Warrior, but -yester-morn I knew

Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 105

Save as an outlawed desperate man,

The chief of a rebellious clan.

Who, in the Regent's court and sight.

With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight ;

Yet this alone might from his part no

Sever each true and loyal heart.'

VI

Wrathful at such arraignment foul,

Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl,

A space he paused, then sternly said,

'And heardst thou why he drew his blade ? 115

Heardst thou that shameful word and blow

Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe ?

What recked the Chieftain if he stood

On Highland heath or Holy- Rood ?

He rights such wrong where it is given, 120

If it were in the court of heaven.'

* Still was it outrage ; — yet, 't is true.

Not then claimed sovereignty his due ;

While Albany with feeble hand

Held borrowed truncheon of command, 125

The young King, mewed in Stirling tower,

Was stranger to respect and power.

[133]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

But then, thy Chieftain's robber Hfe ! — Winning mean prey by causeless strife, Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain 130

His herds and harvest reared in vain, — Methinks a soul like thine should scorn The spoils from such foul foray borne/

VII

The Gael beheld him grim the while,

And answered with disdainful smile : 135

' Saxon, from yonder mountain high,

I marked thee send delighted eye

Far to the south and east, where lay,

Extended in succession gay,

Deep waving fields and pastures green, 140

With gentle slopes and groves between : —

These fertile plains, that softened vale.

Were once the birthright of the Gael ;

The stranger came with iron hand.

And from our fathers reft the land. 145

Where dwell we now ? See, rudely swell

Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell.

Ask we this savage hill we tread

For fattened steer or household bread.

Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 150

And well the mountain might reply, —

'' To you, as to your sires of yore.

Belong the target and claymore !

I give you shelter in my breast.

Your own good blades must win the rest." 155

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

Pent in this fortress of the North,

Think'st thou we will not sally forth,

To spoil the spoiler as we may,

And from the robber rend the prey ?

Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain i6o

The Saxon rears one shock of grain.

While of ten thousand herds there strays

But one along yon river's maze, —

The Gael, of plain and river heir,

Shall with strong hand redeem his share. 165

Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold

That plundering Lowland field and fold

Is aught but retribution true ?

Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu.'

VIII

Answered Fitz- James : ' And, if I sought, 170

Think'st thou no other could be brought ?

What deem ye of my path waylaid ?

My life given o'er to ambuscade ? '

' As of a meed to rashness due :

Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 175

I seek my hound or falcon strayed,

I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, —

Free hadst thou been to come and go ;

But secret path marks secret foe.

Nor yet for this, even as a spy, 180

Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die,

Save to fulfil an augury.'

' Well, let it pass ; nor will I now

[135]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Fresh cause of enmity avow,

To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. 185

Enough, I am by promise tied

To match me with this man of pride :

Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen

In peace ; but when I come again,

I come with banner, brand, and bow, 190

As leader seeks his mortal foe.

For love-lorn swain in lady's bower

Ne'er panted for the appointed hour.

As I, until before me stand

This rebel Chieftain and his band ! ' 195

1 IX

' Have then thy wish ! ' — He whistled shrill,

And he was answered from the hill ;

Wild as the scream of the curlew.

From crag to crag the signal flew.

Instant, through copse and heath, arose 200

Bonnets and spears and bended bows ;

On right, on left, above, below.

Sprung up at once the lurking foe ;

From shingles gray their lances start.

The bracken bush sends forth the dart, 205

The rushes and the willow-wand

Are bristling into axe and brand,

And every tuft of broom gives life

To plaided warrior armed for strife.

That whistle garrisoned the glen 210

At once with full five hundred men,

[^36]

FIFTH] THE ^C 0MB AT

As if the yawning hill to heaven

A subterranean host had given.

Watching their leader's beck and will,

All silent there they stood and still. 215

Like the loose crags whose threatening mass

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass,

As if an infant's touch could urge

Their headlong passage down the verge.

With step and weapon forward flung, 220

Upon the mountain-side they hung.

The Mountaineer cast glance of pride

Along Benledi's living side,

Then fixed his eye and sable brow

Full on Fitz- James : 'How say st thou now.? 225

These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true ;

And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu ! '

X

Fitz-James was brave : — though to his heart

The life-blood thrilled with sudden start.

He manned himself with dauntless air, 230

Returned the Chief his haughty stare.

His back against a rock he bore.

And firmly placed his foot before : —

' Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly

From its firm base as soon as L' 235

Sir Roderick marked, — and in his eyes

Respect was mingled with surprise.

And the stern joy which warriors feel

In foeman worthy of their steel.

[137]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Short space he stood — then waved his hand : 240

Down sunk the disappearing band ;

Each warrior vanished where he stood,

In broom or bracken, heath or wood ;

Sunk brand and spear and bended bow.

In osiers pale and copses low ; 245

It seemed as if their mother Earth

Had swallowed up her warlike birth.

The wind's last breath had tossed in air

Pennon and plaid and plumage fair, —

The next but swept a lone hill-side, 250

Where heath and fern were waving wide :

The sun's last glance was glinted back

From spear and glaive, from targe and jack ;

The next, all unreflected, shone

On bracken green and cold gray stone. - 255

XI

Fitz-James looked round, — yet scarce believed

The witness that his sight received ;

Such apparition well might seem

Delusion of a dreadful dream.

Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 260

And to his look the Chief replied :

' Fear naught — nay, that I need not say —

But — doubt not aught from mine array.

Thou art my guest ; — I pledged my word

As far as Coilantogle ford : 265

Nor would I call a clansman's brand

For aid against one valiant hand,

[138]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT ,

Though on our strife lay every vale

Rent by the Saxon from the Gael.

So move we on ; — I only meant 270

To show the reed on which you leant,

Deeming this path you might pursue

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu/

They moved ; — I said Fitz-James was brave

As ever knight that belted glaive, 275

Yet dare not say that now his blood

Kept on its wont and tempered flood.

As, following Roderick's stride, he drew

That seeming lonesome pathway through,

Which yet by fearful proof was rife 280

With lances, that, to take his life.

Waited but signal from a guide,

So late dishonored and defied.

Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round

The vanished guardians of the ground, 285

And still from copse and heather deep

Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep,

And in the plover's shrilly strain

The signal whistle heard again.

Nor breathed he free till far behind 290

The pass was left ; for then they wind

Along a wide and level green.

Where neither tree nor tuft was seen,

Nor rush nor bush of broom was near.

To hide a bonnet or a spear. 295

[139]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

XII

The Chief in silence strode before,

And reached that torrent's sounding shore,

Which, daughter of three mighty lakes.

From Vennachar in silver breaks.

Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 300

On Bochastle the mouldering lines.

Where Rome, the Empress of the world,

Of yore her eagle wings unfurled.

And here his course the Chieftain stayed.

Threw down his target and his plaid, 305

And to the Lowland warrior said :

' Bold Saxon ! to his promise just,

Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust.

This murderous Chief, this ruthless man.

This head of a rebellious clan, 310

Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward.

Far past Clan-Alpine's^outmost guard.

Now, man to man, and steel to steel,

A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel.

See, here all vantageless I stand, 315

Armed like thyself with single brand ;

For this is Coilantogle ford.

And thou must keep thee with thy sword,

XIII

The Saxon paused : ' I ne'er delayed.

When foeman bade me draw my blade ; 320

Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death ;

Yet sure thy fair and generous faith,

[140]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

And my deep debt for life preserved,

A better meed have well deserved :

Can naught but blood our feud atone ? 325

Are there no means ? ' — ' No, stranger, none !

And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal, —

The Saxon cause rests on thy steel ;

For thus spoke Fate by prophet bred

Between the living and the dead : 330

''Who spills the foremost foeman's life,

His party conquers in the strife.'* '

' Then, by my word,' the Saxon said,

' The riddle is already read.

Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — 335

There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.

Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy;

Then yield to Fate, and not to me.

To James at Stirling let us go.

When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 340

Or if the King shall not agree

To grant thee grace and favor free,

I plight mine honor, oath, and word

That, to thy native strengths restored.

With each advantage shalt thou stand 345

That aids thee now to guard thy land.'

XIV

Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye :

' Soars thy presumption, then, so high,

Because a wretched kern ye slew.

Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ? 350

[141]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

He yields not, he, to man nor Fate !

Thou add'st but fuel to my hate ; —

My clansman's blood demands revenge.

Not yet prepared ?.v>— By heaven, I change

My thought, and hold thy valor light 355

As that of some vain carpet knight.

Who ill deserved my courteous care,

And whose best boast is but to wear

A braid of his fair lady's hair/

' I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! 360

It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ;

For I have sworn this braid to stain

In the best blood that warms thy vein.

Now, truce, farewell ! and, ruth, begone ! —

Yet think not that by thee alone, 365

Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ;

Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn,

Start at my whistle clansmen stern.

Of this small horn one feeble blast

Would fearful odds against thee cast. 370

But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt —

We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.'

Then each at once his falchion drew,

Each on the ground his scabbard threw,

Each looks to sun and stream and plain 375

As what they ne'er might see again ;

Then foot and point and eye opposed.

In dubious strife they darkly closed.

[142]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

111 fared it then with Roderick Dhu,

That on the field his targe he threw, 380

Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide

Had death so often dashed aside ;

For, trained abroad his arms to wield,

Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield.

He practised every pass and ward, 385

To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ;

While less expert, though stronger far.

The Gael maintained unequal war.

Three times in closing strife they stood.

And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood ; 390

No stinted draught, no scanty tide,

The gushing flood the tartans dyed.

Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain.

And showered his blows like wintry rain ;

And, as firm rock or castle-roof 395

Against the winter shower is proof,

The foe, invulnerable still.

Foiled his wild rage by steady skill ;

Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand

Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 400

And backward borne upon the lea.

Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee.

XVI

' Now yield thee, or by Him who made ^ The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade ! '

[143]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

' Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 405

Let recreant yield, who fears to die/

Like adder darting from his coil,

Like wolf that dashes through the toil,

Like mountain-cat who guards her young,

Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ; 410

Received, but recked not of a wound,

And locked his arms his foeman round. —

Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own !

No maiden's hand is round thee thrown !

That desperate grasp thy frame might feel 415

Through bars of brass and triple steel !

They tug, they strain ! down, down they go.

The Gael above, Fitz -James below.

The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed.

His knee was planted on his breast ; 420

His clotted locks he backward threw,

Across his brow his hand he drew,

From blood and mist to clear his sight,

Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright !

But hate and fury ill supplied 425

The stream of life's exhausted tide,

And all too late the advantage came.

To turn the odds of deadly game :

For, while the dagger gleamed on high.

Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. 430

Down came the blow ! but in the heath

The erring blade found bloodless sheath.

The struggling foe may now unclasp

The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp ;

[144]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Unwounded from the dreadful close, 435

But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.

XVII

He faltered thanks to Heaven for life,

Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife ;

Next on his foe his look he cast.

Whose every gasp appeared his last ; 440

In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid, —

' Poor Blanche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid ;

Yet with thy foe must die, or live.

The praise that faith and valor give/

With that he blew a bugle note, 445

Undid the collar from his throat,

Unbonneted, and by the wave

Sat down his brow and hands to lave.

Then faint afar are heard the feet

Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 450

The sounds increase, and now are seen

Four mounted squires in Lincoln green ;

Two who bear lance, and two who lead

By loosened rein a saddled steed;

Each onward held his headlong course, 455

And by Fitz-James reined up his horse, —

With wonder viewed the bloody spot, —

' Exclaim not, gallants ! question not. —

You, Herbert and Luffness, alight.

And bind the wounds of yonder knight ; 460

Let the gray palfrey bear his weight.

We destined for a fairer freight,

[U6]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

And bring him on to Stirling straight;

I will before at better speed,

To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 465

The sun rides high : — I must be boune

To see the archer-game at noon ;

But lightly Bayard clears the lea. —

DeVaux and Herries, follow me.

XVIII

' Stand, Bayard, stand ! ' — the steed obeyed, 470

With arching neck and bended head,

And glancing eye and quivering ear,

As if he loved his lord to hear.

No foot Fitz-James in stirrup stayed,

No grasp upon the saddle laid, 475

But wreathed his left hand in the mane.

And lightly bounded from the plain,

Turned on the horse his armed heel.

And stirred his courage with the steel.

Bounded the fiery steed in air, 480

The rider sat erect and fair.

Then like a bolt from steel crossbow

Forth launched, along the plain they go.

They dashed that rapid torrent through,

And up Carhonie's hill they flew ; 485

Still at the gallop pricked the Knight,

His merrymen followed as they might.

Along thy banks, swift Teith, they ride,

And in the race they mock thy tide ;

Torry and Lendrick now are past, 490

[147]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, They sink in distant woodland soon ; Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre ; 495

They mark just glance and disappear The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides, And on the opposing shore take ground, 500

With plash, with scramble, and with bound. Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig- Forth !. And soon the bulwark of the North, Gray Stirling, with her towers and town, NUpon their fleet career looked downV^ 505

XIX

As up the flinty path they strained,

Sudden his steed the leader reined ;

A signal to his squire he flung.

Who instant to his stirrup sprung : —

' Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray, 510

Who townward holds the rocky way.

Of stature tall and poor array ?

Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride

With which he scales the mountain-side ?

Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom ? ' 515

' No, by my word ; — a burly groom

He seems, who in the field or chase

A baron's train would nobly grace — '

[148]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

' Out, out, De Vaux ! can fear supply.

And jealousy, no sharper eye ? 520

Afar, ere to the hill he drew.

That stately form and step I knew ;

Like form in Scotland is not seen,

Treads not such step on Scottish green.

'T is James of Douglas, by Saint Serle ! 525

The uncle of the banished Earl.

Away, away, to court, to show

The near approach of dreaded. foe :

The King must stand upon his guard ;

Douglas and he must meet prepared/ 530

Then right-hand wheeled their steeds, and straight

They won the Castle's postern gate.

XX

The Douglas who had bent his way

From Cambus-kenneth's abbey gray.

Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf, 535

Held sad communion with himself: —

' Yes ! all is true my fears could frame ;

A prisoner lies the noble Graeme,

And fiery Roderick soon will feel

The vengeance of the royal steel. 540

I, only I, can ward their fate, —

God grant the ransom come not late !

The Abbess hath her promise given.

My child shall be the bride of Heaven ; —

Be pardoned one repining tear ! 545

For He who gave her knows how dear,

[149]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

How excellent ! — but that is by,

And now my business is — to die. —

Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread

A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; 550

And thou, O sad and fatal mound !

That oft hast heard the death-axe sound,

As on the noblest of the land

Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand, —

The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 555

Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom!

But hark ! what blithe and jolly peal

Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ?

And see ! upon the crowded street.

In motley groups what masquers meet ! 560

Banner and pageant, pipe and drum,

And merry morrice-dancers come.

I guess, by all this quaint array.

The burghers hold their sports to-day.

James will be there ; he loves such show, 565

Where the good yeoman bends his bow,

And the tough wrestler foils his foe,

As well as where, in proud career.

The high-born tilter shivers spear.

I '11 follow to the Castle-park, 570

And play my prize ; — King James shall mark

If age has tamed these sinews stark.

Whose force so oft in happier days

His boyish wonder loved to praise.'

[150]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

XXI The Castle gates were open flung, 575

The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung, And echoed loud the flinty street Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, As slowly down the steep descent Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, 580

While all along the crowded way Was jubilee and loud huzza. And ever James was bending low To his white jennet's saddle-bow, Doffing his cap to city dame, 585

Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame. And well the simperer might be vain, — He chose the fairest of the train. Gravely he greets each city sire. Commends each pageant's quaint attire, 590

Gives to the dancers thanks aloud. And smiles and nods upon the crowd. Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, — ' Long live the Commons' King, King James ! ' Behind the King thronged peer and knight, 595 And noble dame and damsel bright, Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay Of the steep street and crowded way. But in the train you might discern Dark lowering brow and visage stern ; 600

There nobles mourned their pride restrained, And the mean burgher's joys disdained ; And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan,

[151]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Were each from home a banished man,

There thought upon their own gray tower, 605

Their waving w^oods, their feudal power,

And deemed themselves a shameful part

Of pageant which they cursed in heart.

XXII

Now, in the Castle-park, drew out

Their checkered bands the joyous rout. 610

There morricers, with bell at heel

And blade in hand, their mazes wheel ;

But chief, beside the butts, there stand

Bold Robin Hood and all his band, —

Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl, 615

Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl,

Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone.

Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John ;

Their bugles challenge all that will.

In archery to prove their skill. 620

The Douglas bent a bow of might, —

His first shaft centred in the white,

And when in turn he shot again,

His second split the first in tw^ain.

From the King's hand must Douglas take 625

A silver dart, the archers' stake ;

Fondly he watched, with watery eye.

Some answering glance of sympathy, —

No kind emotion made reply !

Indifferent as to archer wight, 630

The monarch gave the arrow bright.

[152]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

XXIII

Now, clear the ring ! for, hand to hand,

The manly wrestlers take their stand.

Two o'er the rest superior rose,

And proud demanded mightier foes, — 635

Nor called in vain, for Douglas came. —

For life is Hugh of Larbert lame ;

Scarce better John of Alloa's fare.

Whom senseless home his comrades bare.

Prize of the wrestling match, the King 640

To Douglas gave a golden ring,

While coldly glanced his eye of blue,

As frozen drop of wintry dew.

Douglas would speak, but in his breast

His struggling soul his words suppressed ; 645

Indignant then he turned him where

Their arms the brawny yeomen bare.

To hurl the massive bar in air.

When each his utmost strength had shown.

The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 650

From its deep bed, then heaved it high.

And sent the fragment through the sky

A rood beyond the farthest mark ;

And still in Stirling's royal park.

The gray-haired sires, who know the past, 655

To strangers point the Douglas cast,

And moralize on the decay

Of Scottish strength in modern day.

[153]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

XXIV The vale with loud applauses rang, The Ladies* Rock sent back the clang. 660

The King, with look unmoved, bestowed A purse well filled with pieces broad. Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, -And threw the gold among the crowd. Who now with anxious wonder scan, 665

And sharper glance, the dark gray man ; Till whispers rose among the throng. That heart so free, and hand so strong, Must to the Douglas blood belong. The old men marked and shook the head, 670 To see his hair with silver spread. And winked aside, and told each son Of feats upon the English done. Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand Was exiled from his native land. 675

The women praised his stately form. Though wrecked by many a winter's storm ; The youth with awe and wonder saw His strength surpassing Nature's law. Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, 680

Till murmurs rose to clamors loud. But not a glance from that proud ring Of peers who circled round the King With Douglas held communion kind, Or called the banished man to mind ; 685

No, not from those who at the chase Once held his side the honored place,

[154]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

Begirt his board, and in the field

Found safety underneath his shield ;

For he whom royal eyes disown, 690

When was his form to courtiers known !

XXV

The Monarch saw the gambols flag.

And bade let loose a gallant stag.

Whose pride, the holiday to crown.

Two favorite greyhounds should pull down, 695

That venison free and Bourdeaux wine

Might serve the archery to dine.

But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side

Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide,

The fleetest hound in all the North, — 700

Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth.

She left the royal hounds midway.

And dashing on the antlered prey,

Sunk her dark muzzle in his flank,

And deep the flowing life-blood drank. 705

The King's stout huntsman saw the sport

By strange intruder broken short.

Came up, and with his leash unbound

In anger struck the noble hound.

The Douglas had endured, that morn, 710

The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn,

And last, and worst to spirit proud,

Had borne the pity of the crowd ;

But Lufra had been fondly bred.

To share his board, to watch his bed, 715

[iSS]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

And oft would Ellen Lufra's neck

In maiden glee with garlands deck ;

They were such playmates that with name

Of Lufra Ellen's image came.

His stifled wrath is brimming high, 720

In darkened brow and flashing eye ;

As waves before the bark divide,

The crowd gave way before his stride ;

Needs but a buffet and no more,

The groom lies senseless in his gore. 725

Such blow no other hand could deal,

Though gauntleted in glove of steel.

XXVI

Then clamored loud the royal train,

And brandished swords and staves amain.

But stern the Baron's warning : ' Back ! 730

Back, on your lives, ye menial pack !

Beware the Douglas. — Yes ! behold.

King James ! The Douglas, doomed of old,

And vainly sought for near and far,

A victim to atone the war, 7^$

A willing victim, now attends,

Nor craves thy grace but for his friends.' —

' Thus is my clemency repaid ?

Presumptuous Lord ! ' the Monarch said :

' Of thy misproud ambitious clan, 740

Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man,

The only man, in whom a foe

My woman-mercy would not know ;

[156]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

But shall a Monarch's presence brook

Injurious blow and haughty look? — 745

What ho ! the Captain of our Guard !

Give the offender fitting ward. —

Break off the sports ! ' — for tumult rose,

And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, —

* Break off the sports!' he said and frowned, 750 'And bid our horsemen clear the ground.'

XXVII

Then uproar wild and misarray

Marred the fair form of festal day.

The horsemen pricked among the crowd,

Repelled by threats and insult loud ; 755

To earth are borne the old and weak,

The timorous fly, the women shriek ;

With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar.

The hardier urge tumultuous war.

At once round Douglas darkly sweep 760

The royal spears in circle deep,

And slowly scale the pathway steep.

While on the rear in thunder pour

The rabble with disordered roar.

With grief the noble Douglas saw 76.5

The Commons rise against the law.

And to the leading soldier said :

* Sir John of Hyndford, 't was my blade That knighthood on thy shoulder laid ;

For that good deed permit me then 770

A word with these misguided men. —

[157]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

XXVIII

' Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me

Ye break the bands of fealty.

My life, my honor, and my cause,

I tender free to Scotland's laws. 775

Are these so weak as must require

The aid of your misguided ire ?

Or if I suffer causeless wrong,

Is then my selfish rage so strong.

My sense of public weal so low, 780

That, for mean vengeance on a foe,

Those cords of love I should unbind

Which knit my country and my kind ?

O no ! Believe, in yonder tower

It will not soothe my captive hour, 785

To know those spears our foes should dread

For me in kindred gore are red :

To know, in fruitless brawl begun.

For me that mother wails her son.

For me that widow's mate expires, 790

For me that orphans weep their sires,

That patriots mourn insulted laws,

And curse the Douglas for the cause.

O let your patience ward such ill.

And keep your right to love me still ! ' 795

XXIX

The crowd's wild fury sunk again In tears, as tempests melt in rain.

[158]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed

For blessings on his generous head

Who for his country felt alone, 800

And prized her blood beyond his own.

Old men upon the verge of life

Blessed him who stayed the civil strife ;

And mothers held their babes on high,

The self-devoted Chief to spy, 805

Triumphant over wrongs and ire.

To whom the prattlers owed a sire.

Even the rough soldier's heart was moved ;

As if behind some bier beloved.

With trailing arms and drooping head, 810

The Douglas up the hill he led,

And at the Castle's battled verge,

With sighs resigned his honored charge.

XXX

The offended Monarch rode apart.

With bitter thought and swelling heart, 815

And would not now vouchsafe again

Through Stirling streets to lead his train.

' O Lennox, who would wish to rule

This changeling crowd, this common fool ?

Hear'st thou/ he said, ' the loud acclaim 820

With which they shout the Douglas name ?

With like acclaim the vulgar throat

Strained for King James their morning note ;

With like acclaim they hailed the day

When first I broke the Douglas sway ; 825

■ . [159]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

And like acclaim would Douglas greet

If he could hurl me from my seat.

Who o'er the herd would wish to reign,

Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ?

Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 830

And fickle as a changeful dream ;

Fantastic as a woman's mood,

And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood.

Thou many-headed monster-thing,

O, who would wish to be thy king } — 835

XXXI

' But soft ! what messenger of speed

Spurs hitherward his panting steed ?

I guess his cognizance afar —

What from our cousin, John of Mar ? '

' He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound 840

Within the safe and guarded ground ;

For some foul purpose yet unknown, —

Most sure for evil to the throne, —

The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu,

Has summoned his rebellious crew ; 845

'T is said, in James of Bothwell's aid

These loose banditti stand arrayed.

The Earl of Mar this morn from Doune

To break their muster marched, and soon

Your Grace will hear of battle fought ; 850

But earnestly the Earl besought.

Till for such danger he provide.

With scanty train you will not ride/

[160]

FIFTH] THE COMBAT

XXXII

* Thou warn'st me I have done amiss, —

I should have earher looked to this ; 855

I lost it in this bustling day. —

Retrace with speed thy former way ;

Spare not for spoiling of thy steed,

The best of mine shall be thy meed.

Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 860

We do forbid the intended war ;

Roderick this morn in single fight

Was made our prisoner by a knight,

And Douglas hath himself and cause

Submitted to our kingdom's laws. 865

The tidings of their leaders lost

Will soon dissolve the mountain host,

Nor would we that the vulgar feel,

For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel.

Bear Mar our message, Braco, fly ! ' 870

He turned his steed, — ' My liege, I hie,

Yet ere I cross this lily lawn

I fear the broadswords will be drawn.'

The turf the flying courser spurned.

And to his towers the King returned. 875

XXXIII

111 with King James's mood that day Suited gay feast and minstrel lay ; Soon were dismissed the courtly throng. And soon cut short the festal song.

[161]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

Nor less upon the saddened town 880

The evening sunk in sorrow down.

The burghers spoke of civil jar,

Of rumored feuds and mountain war,

Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu,

All up in arms ; — the Douglas too, 885

They mourned him pent within the hold,

' Where stout Earl William was of old/ —

And there his word the speaker stayed.

And finger on his lip he laid.

Or pointed to his dagger blade. 890

But jaded horsemen from the west

At evening to the Castle pressed.

And busy talkers said they bore

Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ;

At noon the deadly fray begun, 895

And lasted till the set of sun.

Thus giddy rumor shook the town,

Till closed the Night her pennons brown.

[162]

CANTO SIXTH

THE GUARD-ROOM

^HE sun, awakening, through the smoky air Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, JjL Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, Of sinful man the sad inheritance ; Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, 5

Scaring the prowling robber to his den ;

Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance, And warning student pale to leave his pen. And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men.

What various scenes, and O, what scenes of woe, 10

Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam ! The fevered patient, from his pallet low,

Through crowded hospital beholds it stream ;

The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam, The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, 15

The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream ; The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale. Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail.

[163]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

II

At dawn the towers of Stirling rang

With soldier-step and weapon-clang, , 20

While drums with rolling note foretell

Relief to weary sentinel.

Through narrow loop and casement barred,

The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard,

And, struggling with the smoky air, 25

Deadened the torches' yellow glare.

In comfortless alliance shone

The lights through arch of blackened stone,

And showed wild shapes in garb of war.

Faces deformed with beard and scar, 30

All haggard from the midnight watch,

And fevered with the stern debauch ;

For the oak table's massive board,

Flooded with wine, with fragments stored.

And beakers drained, and cups overthrown, 35

Showed in what sport the night had flown.

Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ;

Some labored still their thirst to quench ;

Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands

O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 40

While round them, or beside them flung.

At every step their harness rung.

Ill

These drew not for their fields the sword, Like tenants of a feudal lord,

[164]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

Nor owned the patriarchal claim 45

Of Chieftain in their leader's name ;

Adventurers they, from far who roved,

To live by battle which they loved.

There the Italian's clouded face,

The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace; 50

The mountain-loving Switzer there

More freely breathed in mountain-air;

The Fleming there despised the soil

That paid so ill the laborer's toil ;

Their rolls showed French and German name ; 55

And merry England's exiles came,

To share, with ill-concealed disdain.

Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain.

All brave in arms, well trained to wield

The heavy halberd, brand, and shield ; 60

In camps licentious, wild, and bold ;

In pillage fierce and uncontrolled ;

And now, by holytide and feast.

From rules of discipline released.

IV

They held debate of bloody fray, 65

Fought ' twixt Loch Katrine and Achray.

Fierce was their speech, and mid their words

Their hands oft grappled to their swords ;

Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear

Of wounded comrades groaning near, 70

Whose mangled limbs and bodies gored

Bore token of the mountain sword,

[165]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard,

Their prayers and feverish wails were heard, —

Sad burden to the ruffian joke, 75

And savage oath by fury spoke ! —

At length up started John of Brent,

A yeoman from the banks of Trent ;

A stranger to respect or fear,

In peace a chaser of the deer, 80

In host a hardy mutineer.

But still the boldest of the crew

When deed of danger was to do.

He grieved that day their games cut short,

And marred the dicer's brawling sport, 85

And shouted loud, ' Renew the bowl !

And, while a merry catch I troll.

Let each the buxom chorus bear.

Like brethren of the brand and spear.'

V

Soldier's Song

Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule 90

Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl.

That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack.

And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ;

Yet whoop, Barnaby ! off with thy liquor.

Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar ! 95

Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip,

[166]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

Says that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly, And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye ; Yet whoop, Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker, loo

Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar !

Our vicar thus preaches, — and why should he not ? For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot ; And 't is right of his office poor laymen to lurch Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church. 105 Yet whoop, bully-boys ! off with your liquor. Sweet Marjorie 's the word, and a fig for the vicar !

VI

The warder's challenge, heard without, Stayed in mid-roar the merry shout. A soldier to the portal went, — no

' Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent ; And — beat for jubilee the drum ! — A maid and minstrel with him come.' Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred. Was entering now the Court of Guard, 115

A harper with him, and, in plaid All muffled close, a mountain maid. Who backward shrunk to 'scape the view Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. ' What news ? ' they roared : — 'I only know, 120 From noon till eve we fought with foe. As wild and as untamable As the rude mountains where they dwell ; [167]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

On both sides store of blood is lost,

Nor much success can either boast/ — 125

' But whence thy captives, friend ? such spoil

As theirs must needs reward thy toil.

Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp ;

Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp !

Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, 130

The leader of a juggler band/

VII

' No, comrade ; — no sudh fortune mine. After the fight these sought our line, That aged harper and the girl, And, having audience of the Earl, 135

Mar bade I should purvey them steed. And bring them hitherward with speed. Forbear your mirth and rude alarm. For none shall do them shame or harm.' — * Hear ye his boast ? ' cried John of Brent, 140 Ever to strife and jangling bent ; ' Shall he strike doe beside our lodge, And yet the jealous niggard grudge To pay the forester his fee ? I '11 have my share however it be, 145

Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee.' Bertram his forward step withstood ; And, burning in his vengeful mood, Old Allan, though unfit for strife. Laid hand upon his dagger-knife ; 150

But Ellen boldly stepped between, [168]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

And dropped at once the tartan screen : —

So, from his morning cloud, appears

The sun of May through summer tears.

The savage soldiery, amazed, 155

As on descended angel gazed ;

Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed,

Stood half admiring, half ashamed.

VIII

Boldly she spoke : ' Soldiers, attend ! My father was the soldier's friend, 160

Cheered him in camps, in marches led, And with him in the battle bled. Not from the valiant or the strong Should exile's daughter suffer wrong/ Answered De Brent, most forward still 165

In every feat or good or ill : ' I shame me of the part I played ; And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ! An outlaw I by forest laws.

And merry Needwood knows the cause. 170

Poor Rose, — if Rose be living now,' — He wiped his iron eye and brow, — ' Must bear such age, I think, as thou. — Hear ye, my mates ! I go to call The Captain of our watch to hall : 175

There lies my halberd on the floor ; And he that steps my halberd o'er, To do the maid injurious part. My shaft shall quiver in his heart ! [169]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

Beware loose speech, or jesting rough; i8o

Ye all know John de Brent. Enough/

IX

Their Captain came, a gallant young, — Of Tullibardine's house he sprung, — Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight ; Gay was his mien, his humor light, 18-5

And, though by courtesy controlled, Forward his speech, his bearing bold. The high-born maiden ill could brook The scanning of his curious look And dauntless eye : — and yet, in sooth, 190

Young Lewis was a generous youth ; But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 111 suited to the garb and scene. Might lightly bear construction strange. And give loose fancy scope to range. 195

* Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid ! Come ye to seek a champion's aid, On palfrey white, with harper hoar. Like errant damosel of yore ?

Does thy high quest a knight require, 200

Or may the venture suit a squire ? ' Her dark eye flashed ; — she paused and sighed : — ' O what have I to do with pride ! — Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, A suppliant for a father's life, 205

I crave an audience of the King. Behold, to back my suit, a ring,

[170]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

The royal pledge of grateful claims, Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James.'

X

The signet-ring young Lewis took 210

With deep respect and altered look, And said : ' This ring our duties own ; And pardon, if to worth unknown. In semblance mean obscurely veiled, Lady, in aught my folly failed. 215

Soon as the day flings wide his gates. The King shall know what suitor waits. Please you meanwhile in fitting bower Repose you till his waking hour ; Female attendance shall obey 220

Your hest, for service or array. Permit I marshal you the way.' But, ere she followed, with the grace And open bounty of her race. She bade her slender purse be shared 225

Among the soldiers of the guard. The rest with thanks their guerdon took, But Brent, with shy and awkward look. On the reluctant maiden's hold Forced bluntly back the proffered gold : — 230 ' Forgive a haughty English heart. And O, forget its ruder part ! The vacant purse shall be my share, Which in my barret-cap I '11 bear, "^Perchance, in jeopardy of war, 235

[172]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

Where gayer crests may keep afar/

With thanks — 't was all she could — the maid

His rugged courtesy repaid.

XI

When Ellen forth with Lewis went,

Allan made suit to John of Brent : — 240

' My lady safe, O let your grace

Give me to see my master's face !

His minstrel I, — to share his doom

Bound from the cradle to the tomb.

Tenth in descent, since first my sires 245

Waked for his noble house their lyres.

Nor one of all the race was known

But prized its weal above their own.

With the Chief's birth begins our care ;

Our harp must soothe the infant heir, 250

Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace

His earliest feat of field or chase ;

In peace, in war, our rank we keep.

We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep.

Nor leave him till we pour our verse — 255

A doleful tribute ! — o'er his hearse.

Then let me share his captive lot;

It is my right, — deny it not ! '

' Little we reck,' said John of Brent,

* We Southern men, of long descent ; 260

Nor wot we how a name — a word —

Makes clansmen vassals to a lord :

Yet kind my noble landlord's part, —

[173]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

God bless the house of Beaudesert !

And, but I loved to drive the deer 265

More than to guide the laboring steer,

I had not dwelt an outcast here.

Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ;

Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see/

XII

Then, from a rusted iron hook, 270

A bunch of ponderous keys he took,

Lighted a torch, and Allan led

Through grated arch and passage dread.

Portals they passed, where, deep within,

Spoke prisoner's moan and fetters' din ; 275

Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored.

Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword.

And many a hideous engine grim,

For \\Tenching joint and crushing limb,

By artists formed who deemed it shame 2S0

xAnd sin to give their work a name.

They halted at a low-browed porch,

And Brent to Allan gave the torch.

While bolt and chain he backward rolled.

And made the bar unhasp its hold. 2S5

They entered : — ' t was a prison-room

Of stern security and gloom.

Yet not a dungeon ; for the day

Through loft}' gratings found its way.

And rude and antique garniture 290

Decked the sad walls and oaken floor,

[174]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

Such as the rugged days of old

Deemed fit for captive noble's hold.

'Here,' said De Brent, 'thou mayst remain

Till the Leech visit him again. 295

Strict is his charge, the warders tell,

To tend the noble prisoner well.'

Retiring then the bolt he drew,

And the lock's murmurs growled anew.

Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 300

A captive feebly raised his head ;

The wondering Minstrel looked, and knew —

Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu !

For, come from where Clan- Alpine fought.

They, erring, deemed the Chief he sought. 305

XIII

As the tall ship, whose lofty prore

Shall never stem the billows more.

Deserted by her gallant band,

Amid the breakers lies astrand, —

So on his couch lay Roderick Dhu ! 310

And oft his fevered limbs he threw

In toss abrupt, as when her sides

Lie rocking in the advancing tides.

That shake her frame with ceaseless beat,

Yet cannot heave her from her seat; — 315

O, how unlike her course at sea !

Or his free step on hill and lea ! —

.Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, —

' What of thy lady ? — of my clan ? —

[175]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

My mother ? — Douglas ? — tell me all ! 320

Have they been ruined in my fall ?

Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here ?

Yet speak, — speak boldly, — do not fear.'

For Allan, who his mood well knew.

Was choked with grief and terror too. — 325

' Who fought ? — who fled ? — Old man, be brief ; —

Some might, — for they had lost their Chief.

Who basely live ? — who bravely died ? '

' O, calm thee, Chief ! ' the Minstrel cried,

' Ellen is safe ! ' ' For that thank Heaven ! ' 330

* And hopes are for the Douglas given ; —

The Lady Margaret, too, is well ;

And, for thy clan, — on field or fell,

Has never harp of minstrel told

Of combat fought so true and bold. 335

Thy stately Pine is yet unbent.

Though many a goodly bough is rent.'

XIV

The Chieftain reared his form on high.

And fever's fire was in his eye ;

But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 340

Checkered his swarthy brow and cheeks.

' Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play,

With measure bold on festal day.

In yon lone isle, — again where ne'er

Shall harper play or warrior hear ! — 345

That stirring air that peals on high.

O'er Dermid's race our victory. —

[176]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

Strike it ! — and then, — for well thou canst, —

Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced,

Fling me the picture of the fight, 350

When met my clan the Saxon might.

I '11 listen, till my fancy hears

The clang of swords, the crash of spears !

These grates, these walls, shall vanish then

For the fair field of fighting men, 355

And my free spirit burst away,

As if it soared from battle fray/

The trembling Bard with awe obeyed, —

Slow on the harp his hand he laid ;

But soon remembrance of the sight 360

He witnessed from the mountain's height,

With what old Bertram told at night.

Awakened the full power of song.

And bore him in career along ; —

As shallop launched on river's tide, 365

That slow and fearful leaves the side.

But, when it feels the middle stream.

Drives downward swift as lightning's beam.

XV

Battle of BeaV an Duine

' The minstrel came once more to view

The eastern ridge of Benvenue, 370

For ere he parted he would say

Farewell to lovely Loch Achray —

Where shall he find, in foreign land,

So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! —

[177]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

There is no breeze upon the fern, 375

No ripple on the lake, Upon her eyry nods the erne,

The deer has sought the brake ; The small birds will not sing aloud,

The springing trout lies still, 380

So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud. That swathes, as with a purple shroud,

Benledi's distant hill. Is it the thunder's solemn sound

That mutters deep and dread, 385

Or echoes from the groaning ground

The warrior's measured tread ? Is it the lightning's quivering glance

That on the thicket streams. Or do they flash on spear and lance 390

The sun's retiring beams ? — I see the dagger-crest of Mar, I see the Moray's silver star, Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war. That up the lake comes winding far ! 395

To hero boune for battle-strife.

Or bard of martial lay, T were worth ten years of peaceful life.

One glance at their array !

XVI

* Their light-armed archers far and near 400

Surv^eyed the tangled ground,

[178]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

Their centre ranks, with pike and spear,

A twihght forest frowned, Their barded horsemen in the rear

The stern battaha crowned. 405

No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang,

Still were the pipe and drum ; Save heavy tread, and armor's clang.

The sullen march was dumb. There breathed no wind their crests to shake, 410

Or wave their flags abroad ; Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake,

That shadowed o'er their road. Their vaward scouts no tidings bring.

Can rouse no lurking foe, 415

Nor spy a trace of living thing.

Save when they stirred the roe ; The host moves like a deep-sea wave. Where rise no rocks its pride to brave.

High-swelling, dark, and slow. 420

The lake is passed, and now they gain A narrow and a broken plain. Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws ; And here the horse and spearmen pause, While, to explore the dangerous glen, 425

Dive through the pass the archer-men.

XVII

'At once there rose so wild a yell Within that dark and narrow dell,

[179]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

As all the fiends from heaven that fell Had pealed the banner-cry of hell ! 430

Forth from the pass in tumult driven, Like chaff before the wind of heaven,

The archery appear : For life ! for life ! their flight they ply — And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, 435

And plaids and bonnets waving high, And broadswords flashing to the sky,

Are maddening in the rear. Onward they drive in dreadful race,

Pursuers and pursued ; 440

Before that tide of flight and chase. How shall it keep its rooted place.

The spearmen's twilight wood ? — ''Down, down," cried Mar, ''your lances down!

Bear back both friend and foe ! " — 445

Like reeds before the tempest's frown, That serried grove of lances brown

At once lay levelled low ; And closely shouldering side to side. The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 450

" We 11 quell the savage mountaineer,

As their Tinchel cows the game ! They come as fleet as forest deer.

We '11 drive them back as tame."

XVIII

' Bearing before them in their course 455

The relics of the archer force,

[180]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. Above the tide, each broadsword bright Was brandishing like beam of light, 460

Each targe was dark below ; And with the ocean's mighty swing, When heaving to the tempest's wing, They hurled them on the foe. I heard the lance's shivering crash, 465

As when the whirlwind rends the ash ; I heard the broadsword's deadly clang. As if a hundred anvils rang ! But Moray wheeled his rearward rank Of horsemen on Clan- Alpine's flank, — 470

'' My banner-man, advance ! I see," he cried, ''their column shake. Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake.

Upon them with the lance ! " — The horsemen dashed among the rout, 475

As deer break through the broom ; Their steeds are stout, their swords are out,

They soon make lightsome room. Clan- Alpine's best are backward borne —

Where, where was Roderick then ! 480

One blast upon his bugle-horn

Were worth a thousand men. And refluent through the pass of fear

The battle's tide was poured ; Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, 485

Vanished the mountain-sword.

[181]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep,

Receives her roaring Hnn, As the dark caverns of the deep

Suck the wild whirlpool in, 490

So did the deep and darksome pass Devour the battle's mingled mass ; None linger now upon the plain, Save those who ne'er shall fight again.

XIX

' Now westward rolls the battle's din, 495

That deep and doubling pass within. —

Minstrel, away ! the work of fate

Is bearing on ; its issue wait.

Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile

Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. 500

Gray Ben venue I soon repassed,

Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast.

The sun is set ; — the clouds are met, The lowering scowl of heaven

An inky hue of livid blue 505

To the deep lake has given ; Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. I heeded not the eddying surge, Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, 510

Mine ear but heard that sullen sound. Which like an earthquake shook the ground, And spoke the stern and desperate strife That parts not but with parting life,

[182]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 515

The dirge of many a passing soul. Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen The martial flood disgorged again,

But not in mingled tide ; The plaided warriors of the North 520

High on the mountain thunder forth

And overhang its side, While by the lake below appears The darkening cloud of Saxon spears. At weary bay each shattered band, 525

Eying their foemen, sternly stand ; Their banners stream like tattered sail, That flings its fragments to the gale, And broken arms and disarray Marked the fell havoc of the day. 530

XX

' Viewing the mountain's ridge askance. The Saxons stood in sullen trance, Till Moray pointed with his lance.

And cried : '' Behold yon isle ! — See ! none are left to guard its strand 535

But women weak, that wring the hand : 'T is there of yore the robber band

Their booty wont to pile ; — My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, 540

And loose a shallop from the shore.

[183]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Lightly we '11 tame the war-wolf then,

Lords of his mate, and brood, and den."

Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung,

On earth his casque and corselet rung, 545

He plunged him in the wave : — All saw the deed, — the purpose knew, And to their clamors Ben venue

A mingled echo gave ; The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 550

The helpless females scream for fear. And yells for rage the mountaineer. 'T was then, as by the outcry riven, Poured down at once the lowering heaven : A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast, 555

Her billows reared their snowy crest. Well for the swimmer swelled they high. To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; For round him showered, mid rain and hail, The vengeful arrows of the Gael. 560

In vain. — He nears the isle — and lo ! His hand is on a shallop's bow. Just then a flash of lightning came. It tinged the waves and strand with flame ; I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame, 565

Behind an oak I saw her stand, A naked dirk gleamed in her hand : — It darkened, — but amid the moan Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — Another flash ! — the spearman floats 570

A weltering corse beside the boats,

[184]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

And the stern matron o'er him stood, Her hand and dagger streaming blood.

XXI

' '' Revenge ! revenge ! " the Saxons cried,

The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 575

Despite the elemental rage.

Again they hurried to engage ;

But, ere they closed in desperate fight, .

Bloody with spurring came a knight.

Sprung from his horse, and from a crag 580

Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag.

Clarion and trumpet by his side

Rung forth a truce-note high and wide,

While, in the Monarch's name, afar

A herald's voice forbade the war, 585

For Bothwell's lord and Roderick bold

Were both, he said, in captive hold.' —

But here the lay made sudden stand.

The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand !

Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 590

How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy :

At first, the Chieftain, to the chime,

With lifted hand kept feeble time ;

That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong

Varied his look as changed the song; 595

At length, no more his deafened ear

The minstrel melody can hear ;

His face grows sharp, — his hands are clenched.

As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched ;

[185]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Set are his teeth, his fading eye 600

Is sternly fixed on vacancy ;

Thus, motionless and moanless, drew

His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu ! —

Old Allan-bane looked on aghast,

While grim and still his spirit passed ; 605

But when he saw that life was fled,

He poured his wailing o'er the dead.

XXII

Lament

* And art thou cold and lowly lafid,

Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid,

Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade ! 610

For thee shall none a requiem say ? —

For thee, who loved the minstrel's lay.

For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay.

The shelter of her exiled line.

E'en in this prison-house of thine, 615

I '11 wail for Alpine's honored Pine !

' What groans shall yonder valleys fill ! What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill ! What tears of burning rage shall thrill. When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 620

Thy fall before the race was won, Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! There breathes not clansman of thy line, But would have given his life for thine. O, w^oe for Alpine's honored Pine ! 625

[186]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

' Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! —

The captive thrush may brook the cage,

The prisoned eagle dies for rage.

Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain !

And, when its notes awake again, 630

Even she, so long beloved in vain,

Shall with my harp her voice combine,

And mix her woe and tears with mine.

To wail Clan- Alpine's honored Pine.'

XXIII

Ellen the while, with bursting heart, 635

Remained in lordly bower apart.

Where played, with many-colored gleams

Through storied pane the rising beams.

In vain on gilded roof they fall.

And lightened up a tapestried wall, 640

And for her use a menial train

A rich collation spread in vain.

The banquet proud, the chamber gay,

Scarce drew one curious glance astray ;

Or if she looked, 't was but to say, 645

With better omen dawned the day

In that lone isle, where waved on high

The dun-deer's hide for canopy ;

Where oft her noble father shared

The simple meal her care prepared, 650

While Lufra, crouching by her side,

Her station claimed with jealous pride,

[187]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

And Douglas, bent on woodland game,

Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme,

Whose answer, oft at random made, 655

The wandering of his thoughts betrayed.

Those who such simple joys have known

Are taught to prize them when they 're gone.

But sudden, see, she lifts her head.

The window seeks with cautious tread. 660

What distant music has the power

To win her in this woful hour ?

'Twas from a turret that o'erhung

Her latticed bower, the strain was sung.

XXIV

Lay of the Imprisoned Huntsman

' My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 665

My idle greyhound loathes his food.

My horse is weary of his stall.

And I am sick of captive thrall.

I wish I were as I have been.

Hunting the hart in forest green, 670

With bended bow and bloodhound free.

For that 's the life is meet for me.

' I hate to learn the ebb of time

From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime.

Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 675

Inch after inch, along the wall.

The lark was wont my matins ring,

The sable rook my vespers sing,

[188]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

These towers, although a king's they be,

Have not a hall of joy for me 680

* No more at dawning morn I rise,

And sun myself in Ellen's eyes,

Drive the fleet deer the forest through,

And homeward wend with evening dew ;

A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 685

And lay my trophies at her feet,

While fled the eve on wing of glee, —

That life is lost to love and me ! '

XXV

The heart-sick lay was hardly said.

The listener had not turned her head, 690

It trickled still, the starting tear.

When light a footstep struck her ear.

And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near.

She turned the hastier, lest again

The prisoner should renew his strain. 695

' O welcome, brave Fitz-James ! ' she said ;

' How may an almost orphan maid

Pay the deep debt — ' ' O say not so !

To me no gratitude you owe.

Not mine, alas ! the boon to give, 700

And bid thy noble father live ;

I can but be thy guide, sweet maid.

With Scotland's King thy suit to aid.

No tyrant he, though ire and pride

May lay his better mood aside. ' 705

[189]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

Come, Ellen, come ! 't is more than time,

He holds his court at morning prime/

With beating heart, and bosom wrung,

As to a brother's arm she clung.

Gently he dried the falling tear, 710

And gently whispered hope and cheer ;

Her faltering steps half led, half stayed,

Through gallery fair and high arcade,

Till at his touch its wings of pride

A portal arch unfolded wide. 715

XXVI

Within 'twas brilUant all and light, A thronging scene of figures bright; It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight. As when the setting sun has given Ten thousand hues to summer even, 720

And from their tissue fancy frames Aerial knights and fairy dames. Still by Fitz-James her footing staid ; A few faint steps she forward made, Then slow her drooping head she raised, 725

And fearful round the presence gazed ; For him she sought who owned this state. The dreaded Prince whose will was fate ! — She gazed on many a princely port Might well have ruled a royal court ; 730

On many a splendid garb she gazed, — Then turned bewildered and amazed, [190]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

For all stood bare ; and in the room

Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume.

To him each lady's look was lent, 735

On him each courtier's eye was bent ;

Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen,

He stood, in simple Lincoln green,

The centre of the glittering ring, —

And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King ! 740

XXVII

As wreath of snow on mountain-breast

Slides from the rock that gave it rest,

Poor Ellen glided from her stay.

And at the Monarch's feet she lay ;

No word her choking voice commands, — 745

She showed the ring, — she clasped her hands.

0, not a moment could he brook.

The generous Prince, that suppliant look !

Gently he raised her, — and, the while.

Checked with a glance the circle's smile ; 750

Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed.

And bade her terrors be dismissed : —

' Yes, fair ; the wandering poor Fitz-James

The fealty of Scotland claims.

To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring ; 755

He will redeem his signet ring.

Ask naught for Douglas ; — yester even.

His Prince and he have much forgiven ;

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue,

1, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 760

[191]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

We would not, to the vulgar crowd,

Yield what they craved with clamor loud ;

Calmly we heard and judged his cause.

Our council aided and our laws.

I stanched thy father's death-feud stern 765

With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn;

And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own

The friend and bulwark of our throne. —

But, lovely infidel, how now ?

What clouds thy misbelieving brow ? 770

Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ;

Thou must confirm this doubting maid.'

XXVIII

Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, And on his neck his daughter hung. The Monarch drank, that happy hour, 775

The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — When it can say with godlike voice, Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! Yet would not James the general eye On nature's raptures long should pry ; 780

He stepped between — ' Nay, Douglas, nay, Steal not my proselyte away ! The riddle 'tis my right to read, That brought this happy chance to speed. Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 785

In life's more low but happier way, 'Tis under name which veils my power. Nor falsely veils, — for Stirling's tower [192]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims,

And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 790

Thus watch I o'er insulted laws,

Thus learn to right the injured cause/

Then, in a tone apart and low, —

' Ah, little traitress ! none must know

What idle dream, what lighter thought, 795

What vanity full dearly bought.

Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew

My spell-bound steps to Benvenue

In dangerous hour, and all but gave

Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive ! ' 800

Aloud he spoke : ' Thou still dost hold

That little talisman of gold,

Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring, — -

What seeks fair Ellen of the King ? '

XXIX

Full well the conscious maiden guessed 805

He probed the weakness of her breast ;

But with that consciousness there came

A lightening of her fears for Graeme,

And more she deemed the Monarch's ire

Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire 810

Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ;

And, to her generous feeling true,

She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu.

' Forbear thy suit ; — the King of kings

Alone can stay life's parting wings. 815

[193]

THE LADY OF THE LAKE [canto

I know his heart, I know his hand,

Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand : —

My fairest earldom would I give

To bid Clan- Alpine's Chieftain live ! —

Hast thou no other boon to crave ? 820

No other captive friend to save ? '

Blushing, she turned her from the King,

And to the Douglas gave the ring.

As if she wished her sire to speak

The suit that stained her glowing cheek. 825

* Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force,

And stubborn justice holds her course.

Malcolm, come forth ! ' — and, at the word,

Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's Lord.

' For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, 830

From thee may Vengeance claim her dues.

Who, nurtured underneath our smile,

Hast paid our care by treacherous wile,

And sought amid thy faithful clan

A refuge for an outlawed man, 835

Dishonoring thus thy loyal name. —

Fetters and warder for the Graeme ! '

His chain of gold the King unstrung.

The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung.

Then gently drew the glittering band, 840

And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand.

Harp of the North, farewell ! The hills grow dark. On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; 8 In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark,

[194]

SIXTH] THE GUARD-ROOM

The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending. 845 Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending.

And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy ;

Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending,

With distant echo from the fold and lea,

And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. 850

Yet once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp !

Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, And little reck I of the censure sharp

May idly cavil at an idle lay.

Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, 855 Through secret woes the world has never known,

When on the weary night dawned wearier day. And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. — That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress ! is thine own.

Hark ! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, 860

Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! 'T is now a seraph bold, with touch of fire,

'T is now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing.

Receding now the dying numbers ring Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell ; 865

And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — And now, 't is silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well !

[195]

NOTES

I. THE TEXT

The text of this edition of The Lady of the Lake is based on that of the first edition, published in 1810 by John Ballantyne and Co., Edin- burgh,! with a few variants taken from Black's Author''s Editio7t and Chambers's People'' s Edition. Subjoined is a selection from many changes which Scott made on the original manuscript of the poem. These reveal something of Scott's literary artistry and craftsmanship ; they also show the absurdity of the oft-repeated claim that Scott, like Shakespeare, " never blotted a line." The printed text,^when compared with the original manuscript, reveals as many and as significant altera- tions as we find in the earlier and later texts of Wordsworth's poems or Tennyson's.

On the following pages is a facsimile of the original manuscript of the two opening stanzas of Canto First, where the reader may detect for himself the corrections and changes made for the printed text.

Manuscript Variations

[The figures in heavy-faced type refer to the pages ; those in plain type, to the lines of the text.]

Canto First

2 34-35 The blood-hound's notes of heavy bass

Resounded hoarsely up the pass.

1 '' Early in May the Lady of the Lake came out — as her two elder sisters [The Lay of the Last Minstrel and Marmioit] had done — in all the majesty of quarto, with every accompanying grace of typography, and with, moreover, an engraved frontispiece, of Saxon's portrait of Scott ; the price of the book, two guineas. For the copyright the poet had nominally received 2000 guineas." — Lockhart's Life of Scott

[197]

[198]

^

4

[199]

NOTES

5 98-99 Fresh vigour with the thought return'd,

With flying hoof the heath he spurn'd.

8 180-181 And on the hunter hied his pace, r To meet some comrades of the chase.

11 275-276 His ruined sides and fragments hoar

While on the north to middle air.

12 305-306 And hollow trunk of some old tree,

My chamber for the night must be.

Canto Second

39 223-224 Courtiers gave place with heartless stride Of the retiring homicide.

47 444 The chorus to the chieftain's fame.

50 521 The dogs with whimpering notes repaid.

50 527 Like fabled huntress of the wood.

62 860 He spoke, and plunged into the tide.

Canto Third

66 31-36 The doe awoke, and to the lawn,

Begemm'd with dew-drops, led her fawn ; Invisible in fleecy cloud. The lark sent down her matins loud ; The light mist left, etc.

81 410-413 Angus, the first of Duncan's line,

Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign, And then upon his kinsman's bier Fell Malise's suspended tear. In haste the stripling to his side His father's targe and falchion tied.

83 459-460 And where a steep and wooded knoll

Graced the dark strath with emerald green.

92 693-694 To drown his grief in war's wild roar. Nor think of love and Ellen more.

[ 200 ]

THE TEXT

Canto Fourth

97 2 And rapture dearest when obscured by fears.

102 132 Which foremost spills a foeman's life.

104 207-210 No, Allan, no ! His words so kind Were but pretexts my fears to blind, When in such solemn tone and grave, Douglas a parting blessing gave.

107 282-284 'T was but a midnight chance ;

For blindfold was the battle plied, And fortune held the lance.

120 578-581 Sweet William was a woodsman true He stole poor Blanche's heart away. His coat was of the forest hue, And sweet he sung the Lowland lay.

Canto Fifth

130 36-37 At length they paced the mountain side. And saw beneath the waters wide.

136 208-211 And each lone tuft of broom gives life To plaided warrior arm'd for strife. The whistle manned the lonely glen With full five hundred armed men.

139 286-287 And still from copse and heather bush, Fancy saw spear and broadsword rush.

Canto Sixth

164 23 Through blacken'd arch and casement barr'd.

164 27-28 The lights in strange alliance shone Beneath the arch of blacken'd stone.

166 75-76 Sad burden to the ruffian jest.

And rude oaths vented by the rest.

B [ 20I ]

NOTES

183 515-516 And seem'd to minstrel ear, to toll The parting dirge of many a soul.

187 643-644 The banquet gay, the chamber's pride,

Scarce drew one curious glance aside.

188 677-678 The lively lark my matins rung,

The sable rook my vespers sung.

II. VERSIFICATION

The body of the poem is written in iambic four-stress (tetrameter) rhyming verse, or, as the older prosodists described it, octosyllabic couplets — the " lusty octosyllabics " of Lowell's description.

Though this kind of verse had been used for narrative verse in England since the Norman Conquest — it was a favorite measure with the troiiveres — and all the masters wrote it with distinction (Chaucer in The House of Fame ^ Gower in the Confessio Af?iantisy Barbour in The Bruce^ Shakespeare in the Chorus work of Pericles^ Milton in V Allegro and // Pe7tseroso, Burns in Tarn o' Sha?tter), it was a happy accident that determined Scott's use of it. He began to write his first metrical romance. The Lay of the Last Mmst?'el, in ballad stanzas, but hearing a friend read Coleridge's Christabel from the unpublished manuscript, his ear detected that this kind of verse would be a more fitting vehicle for his poem, and from that time onwards rhymed iambic tetrameter was his passion. Like the other masters of iambic tetrameter, Scott varies the expression by introducing trochaic and anapaestic effects. The force and energy of Scott's verse determined Byron to use iambic tetrameter in his metrical tales, Mazeppo^ The Prisoiier of Chillo7t, The Giaour, etc., the first of his poems to make a genuine popular appeal.

The introductory stanzas to each Canto, and the three stanzas of epilogue, are in the familiar Spenserian verse, dear to Scott from child- hood (see the autobiographic passage about his early literary enthusi- asms, given in the Introduction, pp. xix-xx). The excellent Songs are in varied measures. " Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er " (I,xxxi) isin trochaic tetrameter. The song of Allan-bane, '' Not faster yonder rowers' might " (II, ii), is in iambic tetrameter, with the second and fifth lines trimeter. The famous Boat Song, " Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! " (II, xix) is in an easy swing of dactyhc tetrameter with dimeter vari- ations. The hauntingly beautiful Coronach, " He is gone on the

[ 202 ] -

CANTO FIRST

mountain " (III, xvi), is anapaestic with amphibrachic effects. The Barrack- Room Ballad, " Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule '* (VI, v), a great favorite with Robert Browning, is also anapaestic with splendid amphibrachic variants.

III. EXPLANATORY AND ILLUSTRATIVE

CANTO FIRST

[The figures refer to the lines of the text.]

1. Harp of the North : the spirit of Scottish poetry.

2. witch-elm : the broad-leaved elm common in Scotland. * Witch ' (more correctly spelled *wych') here means ' drooping".' It is connected with the Anglo-Saxon wican^ * to bend.' Confusion with the ordinary meaning of ' witch ' has led to the attributing of magical virtues to the tree. Cf.* wizard elm,' Canto VI, 846. — Saint Fillan's spring. More than one sacred well in Perthshire bears the name of St. Fillan, an abbot of the eighth century. He was the favorite saint of Robert the Bruce, and a relic of him was borne by the victorious army at the battle of' Bannockburn.

10. Caledon : Caledonia (the Roman name for Scotland, often used in poetry).

14. according pause : pause during which the harmonious accom- paniment of the harp was heard.

29. Monan's rill. St. Monan was a Scottish martyr of the fourth century.

31. Glenartney. The valley oftheArtney, a small stream in Perthshire.

33. BenvoirHch. A mountain north of Glenartney. *Ben,' from the Gaelic beann^ * a conical peak,' is often used with the names of Scottish mountains. In modern maps it is printed as a distinct word, for example, Ben Voirlich, Ben Venue, etc.

45. beamed frontlet : antlered forehead. * Beam ' is the old sporting term for the main trunk of a stag's horn which bears the branches or antlers.

53. Uam-Var. A mountain between Glenartney and the Braes of Doune. " Ua-var, as the name is pronounced, or more properly Uaighmor, is a mountain to the northeast of the village of Callander in Menteith, deriving its name, which signifies the * great den ' or * cavern,' from a sort of retreat among the rocks on the south side, said, by tradition, to

[ 203 ]

Notes

have been the abode of a giant. In latter times it was the refuge of robbers and banditti, who have been only extirpated within these forty or fifty years. Strictly speaking, this stronghold is not a cavej as the name would imply, but a sort of small enclosure or recess, surrounded with large rocks, and open above head." — Scott.

54. opening. Another sporting term. It is used to describe the barking of dogs at first sight or scent of their game.

66. cairn. A cairn is, properly, a pyramid of rough stones, raised for a memorial or mark, but here it is used generally for a crag or rocky peak.

71. linn. In Scottish literature this word is found in three senses: ( I ) * precipice,' as here ; (2) ^ torrent running over rocks ' (as in Canto VI, 488) ; and (3) ^ pool,' at the base of a waterfall.

84. shrewdly: severely, keenly. Cf. Hamlet, I, iv, i.

89. Menteith. This district is watered by the river Teith, which flows from Loch Katrine into the Forth.

91. moss. A name given in Scotland to boggy or marshy land.

93. Lochard. A little lake south of Loch Katrine. — Aberfoyle. A village east of Lochard.

95. Loch Achray. The word means Make of the level field.' Loch Achray is situated between Loch Katrine and Loch Vennachar at the foot of Ben Venue or Benvenue, as it is written in Hne 97.

103. Cambusmore. Near Callander, the home of the Buchanan family often visited by Scott.

105. Benledi. The word means * hill of God.' It is a singularly beautiful mountain to the north of Loch Vennachar.

106. Bochastle^s heath. A moor between the Teith and Loch Vennachar.

112. Brigg of Turk : * bridge of the wild boar.'

120. Saint Hubert's breed. This race of hounds was kept up by the abbots of St. Hubert in honor of the patron saint of hunting.

127. quarry : the hunted animal.

138. whinyard : a large knife, dagger, or short sword.

145. Trosachs. The romantic valley between Lochs Katrine and Achray. The name means * bristled country' with reference to the dense woodlands. The modern spelling is ' Trossachs.'

166. Woe worth : woe be to. * Worth ' is from an Anglo-Saxon verb, weoiihan, to become or to be.

196. the tower : the Tower of Babel. See Genesis xi, 1-9.

[204]

CANTO FIRST

208. sheen : shining. So in Chaucer and in Spenser.

212. Boon: bountiful (from Fr. bo7i). So in Milton.

227. frequent flung : flung thickly. * Frequent' is used in the Latin sense of ' crowded.' Cf. Pai-adise Lost^ I, 797.

263. Loch Katrine. A beautiful Perthshire lake.

277. Ben-an. It means * Little Mountain ' and is to the north of the Trossachs, separating that pass from Glenfinlas.

297. Bead. Originally 'a prayer'; now applied to one of the little balls of a rosary.

344. A Nymph, a Naiad. In Greek mythology the woods we're inhabited by nymphs, the fountains and streams by naiads. The three graces attended the goddess Venus.

363. snood : a ribbon worn by Scottish maidens to bind their hair.

425. the petty need : the need of rest and food.

443. by the rood: by the cross (a common Shakespearian oath).

460. the visioned future. This is a reference to the power of divination or second sight believed in by the superstitious people of the Highlands.

464. Lincoln green : a hunting cloth manufactured in Lincoln and commonly associated with Robin Hood.

475. errant-knight: one roaming in search of adventures.

478. emprise. A variant of 'enterprise,' or * undertaking.'

525. Idaean vine. This is probably a reference to the red whortle- berry, though it is not a climbing plant. Ida was a mountain in Crete famous for its vines.

546. target : a small shield.

548. arrows store : plenty of arrows.

566. brook: endure. Cf. Canto VI, 591.

573. Ferragus or Ascabart. *' These two sons of Anak flourished in romantic fable. The first is well known to lovers of Ariosto. Ascabart makes a very material figure in the History of Bevis of Hampton, by whom he was conquered." — Scott.

591. Snowdoun. An old name for Stirling Castle.

638. pibroch : a Highland battle song played on the pipes.

729. exiled race. The Douglases were at enmity with James V, because the Earl of Angus married the mother of young King James and tried to make himself ruler of Scotland.

732. brand : sword. So elsewhere in the poem. Cf. Cantos II, 795, VI, 60.

[205]

NOTES

CANTO SECOND

7. minstrel gray. The minstrel was an officer in families of rank. This custom, according to Scott, persisted well into the eighteenth century.

109. Graeme. " The ancient and powerful family of Graham (which, for metrical reasons, is here spelt after the Scottish pronunciation) held extensive possessions in the counties of Dumbarton and Stirhng. Few families can boast of more historical renown, having claim to three of the most remarkable characters in the Scottish annals. Sir John the Graeme, the faithful and undaunted partaker of the labors and patriotic warfare of Wallace, fell in the unfortunate field of Falkirk, in 1298. The celebrated Marquis of Montrose, in whom De Retz saw realized his abstract idea of the heroes of antiquity, was the second of these wor- thies. And, notwithstanding the severity of his temper, and the rigor with which he executed the oppressive mandates of the princes whom he served, I do not hesitate to name as a third, John Graeme of Claver- house, Viscount of Dundee, whose heroic death in the arms of victory may be allowed to cancel the memory of his cruelty to the Noncon- formists during the reigns of Charles II and James II." — Scott.

131. Saint Modan. A Scotch abbot of the Middle Ages.

141. BothwelPs bannered hall. This castle, now in ruins, the home of the Douglas family, may still be seen on the Clyde a few miles above Glasgow.

141-143. "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 Douglases during the minority of James V." — Vaughn Moody.

159. From Tweed to Spey : from the southern boundary of Scot- land to the far north.

200. the Bleeding Heart. This was the crest of the Douglas family chosen in remembrance of the deathbed charge given by Robert Bruce to James Douglas to bear his heart to Jerusalem.

206. strathspey : a Highland reel.

213. Alpine. A mythical Highland king.

214. Loch Lomond. This, the most beautiful of the lakes of Scot- land, lies to the west of Loch Katrine.

[206]

CANTO SECOND

216. A Lennox foray: a raid on the Lennox country lying south of Loch Lomond.

221. Holy-Rood. The royal palace at Edinburgh.

236. dispensation. Roderick and Ellen, being cousins, could be married only by special permission of the pope.

260. Maronnan's cell : a cell dedicated to St. Maronnan at the eastern extremity of Loch Lomond.

270. Bracklinn. A mountain cataract near the village of Callander.

274. claymore. The word in Gaelic means ^ great sword.'

306. Tine-man. Archibald, the third Earl of Douglas, was so called because he * tined,* or lost, his followers in battle.

308. Hotspur. Shakespeare in i Henry IV gives an account of the Douglas-Percy Hotspur-Glendower alliance.

319. Beltane game : a Celtic festival on May Day in honor of Beal, the sun.

327. canna^s hoary beard : the down of the cotton grass.

335. Glengyle. A valley at the western end of Loch Katrine.

340. bannered Pine. A pine tree was the crest on Clan Alpine's banners.

351. chanters: the tubes of the bagpipes on which the melody is played.

362. Gathering : the war cry, or slogan, of the clan.

405. bourgeon : swell into bud, blossom.

408. Roderigh Vich Alpine : Black Roderick of the family of Alpine. * Dhu ' in Gaelic is * black ' ; * Vich ' is * son of.'

497. Percy^s Norman pennon. This was a trophy of victory won by a fo^iftier Douglas. Hotspur's attempt to recover his banner gave rise to the famous battle of Otterbourne, or Chevy Chase.

504. waned crescent. This was the badge of Sir Walter Scott of Buccleuch. An unsuccessful attempt on his part to free the king from the Douglases accounts for the waning crescent.

506. Blantyre. A priory on the banks of the Clyde opposite Bothwell Castle.

525. unhooded. The head of a falcon was commonly covered with a hood. When this was removed it was a signal for flight after game.

527. Goddess of the wood : Diana, goddess of hunting.

577. royal ward. According to feudal law, Malcolm, as head of the Graemes, is under the guardianship of the king during his minority.

[207]

NOTES

616. tamed the Border-side. History shows that James V dealt harshly with border * reavers ' and the bandits of Ettrick Forest. The fate of Johnnie Armstrong of Liddesdale, who came to meet the king on friendly terms and who was seized and put to death, is only one of many instances of severity in addition to those mentioned in the text. (See Introduction, Highlanders and Borderers.)

623-626. Meggat . . . Yarrow . . . Ettrick . . . Teviot. These are names of streams flowing into the Tweed.

638. streight : strait, difficulty.

678. Links of Forth. * Links' means *the windings of a river' and also * the land lying among the windings.'

679. Stirling's porch. StirHng Castle was a favorite residence of Scottish kings.

699. startler: one who is startled. Used by Scott in a passive sense.

702. battled fence : battlemented parapet. Cf. Canto VI, 7.

757. checkered shroud: tartan plaid. * Shroud ' originally meant *a garment.'

805. lackey: serve, or wait upon. So in Shakespeare and Milton.

809. henchman : a body servant or secretary in constant attendance on his Highland master.

831. Fiery Cross. See note below. Canto III, 18.

CANTO THIRD

18. Fiery Cross : a cross made of any light wood, its ends scorched by fire and extinguished in the blood of a goat. It was carried by trusty messengers across country from village to village as the chieftain's signal for summoning his clan.

138. sable-lettered page : black-letter pages. The name is given to Old English characters of heavy type.

154. river Demon: an evil spirit whose appearance foreboded misfortune.

168. Ben-Shie's boding scream. Fairies or familiar spirits were supposed to watch over noble Highland families and by outcries warn them of impending death or disaster.

191. Inch-Cailliach. A beautiful island at the lower extremity of Loch Lomond. The name means * Isle of Nuns.'

212. strook : struck. Cf. Milton's Hym^i on the Nativity, 95.

237. volumed flame: flame in rounded masses. * Volume' meant originally a * roll,' from Latin volvo.

[208]

CANTO FOURTH

253. Coir-Uriskin : *den of the wild men, or satyrs' — a pass on the northern side of Benvenue.

255. Beala-nam-bo : *pass of cattle' — a glade higher up the moun- tain than Coir-Uriskin.

286. Lanrick mead. A meadow on the northern side of Loch Ven- nachar.

300. dun deer's hide. The Highland ' brogue,' that is, stout, coarse shoe, was made of undressed deer skin, the hair worn outside.

349. Duncraggan. A hamlet between Achray and Vennachar, near the Brigg of Turk.

394. Stumah : ' Faithful ' (the name of a dog).

453. Strath Ire. The valley above Loch Lubnaig, watered by the upper reaches of the Teith.

528. Lubnaig : * the lake of the small bends.' It lies east of Ben Ledi.

570. Balquidder. The Braes of Balquidder stretch westward from Strath Ire.

577. coil: bustle, confusion. So in Shakespeare.

580. Balvaig. A river flowing from Loch Voil and Loch Doine into Lubnaig.

582. Strath-Gartney. A valley on the northern side of Loch Katrine.

606. Graeme and Bruce. Famous Scottish families.

607-609. Rednock . . . Cardross . . . Duchray. Scottish castles along the Forth valley.

610. Loch Con : ' lake of the dogs ' ; southwest of Loch Katrine.

CANTO FOURTH

19. Braes of Doune. Hilly country on the north bank of the Teith.

36. boune : prepared. The word appears to-day in the form * bound,' in such phrases as " bound for the Old Country."

63. Taghairm: 'oracle of the Hide.' Among the Highlanders this was one of the methods of inquiring into the future. A person wrapped in a bullock's hide went to a glen or lonely waterfall and there dwelt upon the questions at stake. His musings were affected by the strange- ness of his situation, and any mysterious wildness in the decision was received by the superstitious clansmen as the inspiration of disembodied spirits.

68. The reference is to a foray or cattle drive.

[ 209 ]

NOTES

74 Beal 'maha : * the pass of the plain,' east of Loch Lomond.

77. Dennan's Row. The starting point for the ascent to Ben Lomond.

84. the Hero's Targe : a rock in the woods of Glenfinlas.

98. broke. A technical term for the cutting up of the slaughtered stag.

152-153. Moray, Mar. Two earls, commanders in King James's forces. The banner of one bore a star, the other a pale or broad black perpendicular stripe.

160. the friendly clans of Earn. Those inhabiting the district about Loch Earn.

198. red streamers of the north : the northern lights.

231. Cambus-kenneth's fane. An abbey near Stirling.

261. Merry it is. "This little fairy tale is founded upon a Danish ballad." — Scott. (It is an imitation of the medieval ballad of which Scott's own metrical romances are a modern development.)

277. vest of pall : mantle of rich material. ' Pall,' from l^dXin pallium, originally meant a * cloak ' ; then the cloth out of which cloaks were made.

298. woned : dwelt. Frequent in old ballads.

306. fatal green. " As the Daoine Shi\ or Men of Peace, wore green habits, they were supposed to take offense when any mortals ventured to assume their favorite color. Indeed, from some reason, which has been, perhaps, originally a general superstition, ^?r^?? is held in Scotland to be unlucky to particular tribes and counties. . . . More especially is it held fatal to the whole clan of Graham." — Scott.

308. christened man. The rite of baptism was supposed to give mortals precedence over elves, which the sprites both feared and envied.

330. kindly blood : blood of kin, or kind.

371. Dunfermline gray. The abbey of Grayfriars, Dunfermline, in Fife, not far from Edinburgh.

531-532. Allan, Devan. Small streams flowing into the Forth.

590. The toils are pitched : the nets are laid. The song warns Fitz-James of danger.

594. stag of ten : a stag with ten branches on his horns.

680. wreak : avenge. Cf. Romeo and Juliet, III, v, 102.

686. favor : a token of favor worn by a knight in honor of the lady who gave it.

722. summer solstice : heat of summer.

787. Coilantogle^s ford : on the Teith just below Loch Vennachar. This was the boundary between the lawless Highlands and the district loyal to the Scottish king.

[210]

CANTO FIFTH

CANTO FIFTH

15. by. The word adds a touch of haste to the soldiers* devotions.

18. Gael. The Highlander is called * Gael ' ; the Lowlander, * Saxon.'

108. Regent. John Stuart, Duke of Albany, a relative of James V and regent during his minority.

127. stranger to respect and power. "There is scarcely a more disorderly period in Scottish history than that which succeeded the battle of Flodden and occupied the minority of James V. Feuds of ancient standing broke out like old wounds, and every quarrel among the independent nobility, which occurred daily, and almost hourly, gave rise to fresh bloodshed." — Scott.

169. Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu. " So far, indeed, was a Creagh^ or foray, from being held disgraceful, that a young chief was always expected to show his talents for command, so soon as he assumed it, by leading his clan on a successful enterprise of this nature, either against a neighboring sept, for which constant feuds usually fur- nished an apology, or against the Saxons, or Lowlanders, for which no apology was necessary. The Gael, great traditional historians, never forgot that the Lowlands had, at some remote period, been the property of their Celtic forefathers, which furnished an ample vindication of all the ravages that they could make on the unfortunate districts which lay within their reach." — Scott.

246. mother Earth. The allusion is to one of the old myths, — probably that of Cadmus and the dragon's teeth.

273. Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. Scott tells us that the Highlanders, although apparently lawless and cruel, were capable of generous action. The incident in the text resembles closely the situa- tion in Kipling's '' Ballad of East and West."

298. three mighty lakes : Katrine, Achray, Vennachar.

301. On Bochastle. Some fortifications, supposed to be remains of Roman occupation, have been found on this moor.

356. carpet knight : one who wins distinction by favoritism in the luxury of court life, not through military service.

383. trained abroad. On the Continent the sword-and-buckler duel had been replaced by rapier fencing, at which Frenchmen were adepts.

485-504. Carhonie's hill, etc. The places named are all on the banks of the Teith, — places familiar to Scott from childhood.

[211]

NOTES

550. Douglas. William, eighth Earl of Douglas, stabbed by James II in Stirling Castle.

551. sad and fatal mound: a spot northeast of Stirling known as Heading Hill because of its use as a place of execution.

558. Franciscan steeple: Grayfriars Church, built by James IV in 1549.

562. morrice-dancers : performers of a Moorish dance, a popular amusement of the day, in which all classes of society joined. The actors, personating certain characters, as Friar Tuck, Robin Hood, etc., were disguised in curieus vestments of fawn-colored silk in the form of a tunic, with trappings of green and red satin, and wore bells around their ankles, with which they kept time to the music. See note, below, lines 614-618.

564. The burghers hold their sports to-day. " Every burgh of Scot- land of the least note, but more especially the considerable towns, had their solemn //(^jK, or festival, when feats of archery were exhibited, and prizes distributed to those who excelled in wrestling, hurling the bar, and the other gymnastic exercises of the period. Stirling, a usual place of royal residence, was not likely to be deficient in pomp upon such occasions, especially since James V was very partial to them. His ready participation in these popular amusements was one cause of his acquir- ing the title of King of the Commons." — Scott.

610. checkered bands : groups in motley or gay-colored dresses.

614-618. Robin Hood, etc. For descriptions of these characters and a quarterstaff bout, see Scott's Ivanhoe.

630. wight. The word is either a noun in the sense of ' man,' ^ creature ' ; or an adjective, ^ strong,' * brave.' Either interpretation is possible here ; probably ' any man who claimed to be an archer,' or *any archer at all.'

660. Ladies' Rock : a point on the hillside whence the court ladies watched the sports.

838. cognizance : a badge by which a knight in armor could be recognized.

872. lily lawn. A conventional expression in old ballad poetry.

[212]

CANTO SIXTH

CANTO SIXTH

7. battled : battlemented. Cf. Canto II, 702.

9. Cf. 2 Henry IV^ III, i, 5 : '' O gentle sleep, nature's soft nurse.''

42. harness : armor and other war accouterments.

47. Adventurers. "The Scottish armies consisted chiefly of the nobility and barons, with their vassals, who held lands under them, for military service by themselves and their tenants. James V seems first to have introduced, in addition to the militia furnished from these sources, the service of a small number of mercenaries, who formed a bodyguard, called the Foot-Band." — Scott.

60. halberd : weapon combining spear and battle-ax.

63. holytide: holiday. Cf. 'morning-tide,' Canto III, 478.

92. black-jack: drinking can of tarred leather.

95. upsees out: *a Bacchanalian interjection borrowed from the Dutch.' This is Scott's own explanation, though he misuses the phrase.

103. placket and pot. Metonymy for * women and wine.'

104. lurch : He in wait for, plunder. A form of * lurk.'

131. juggler. "The jugglers used to call in the aid of various assistants to render these performances as captivating as possible. The glee-maiden was a necessary attendant. Her duty was tumbling and dancing, and therefore the Anglo-Saxon version of St. Mark's Gospel states Herodias to have vaulted or tumbled before King Herod."— Scott.

234. barret-cap : a small flat cap worn by soldiers.

264. Beaudesert. The last syllable is pronounced '-sart.' Cf. 'clerk,' so often pronounced 'dark.'

295. Leech : physician. Common in older English.

306. prore : prow. Often so in poetry.

348. Strike it ! " It is popularly told of a famous freebooter that he composed the tune known as *Macpherson's Rant 'while under sen- tence of death and played it at the gallows tree. Some spirited words have been adapted to it by Burns." — Scott.

Battle of BeaP an Duine. " A skirmish actually took place at a pass thus called in the Trosachs [Trossachs], and closed with the remark- able incident mentioned in the text. It was greatly posterior in date to the reign of James V." — Scott.

377. eyry: nest. — erne: eagle.

[213]

NOTES

452. Tinchel. "A circle of sportsmen, by surrounding a great space and gradually narrowing, brought immense quantities of deer together, which usually made desperate efforts to break through the Tincheir—'^Q,o\X.

488. linn. See note. Canto I, 71.

539. bonnet-pieces : gold coins on which the king's head was represented with a bonnet instead of the crown.

586. BothwelPs lord. The Douglas. See note on Canto II, 141-143.

591. brooked: received. The commoner meaning is 'endured.'

638. storied pane. Cf. Milton's II Pefiseroso, 159.

740. Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King. "James V, of whom we are treating, was a monarch whose good and benevolent intentions often rendered his romantic freaks venial, if not respectable, since, from his anxious attention to the interests of the lower and most oppressed class of his subjects, he was, as we have seen, popularly termed the King of the Commons. For the purpose of seeing that justice was regularly administered, and frequently from the less justi- fiable motive of gallantry, he used to traverse the vicinage of his several palaces in various disguises." — Scott.

[214]