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]