The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott

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POETICAL WORKS

OF

Sir WALTER SCOTT, Bart,

IN EIGHT VOLUMES,

VOL. V.

EDINBURGH :

PRINTED FOR ARCH. CONSTABLE AND CO. EDINBURGH :
LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN;

JOHN Murray; and hurst, kobinson, and co.,

LONDON.

1822.

THE LIBRARY

BRIGHAM Y0U^4G UNiVER8lX»
PROVO, UTAH

CONTENTS

, OF

VOLUME FIFTH,

THE LADY OF THE LAKE.

PAGE.

Canto Sixth — The Guard-Room 1

Notes to Canto Sixth 53

THE BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN.

Preface 71

Introduction 81

Canto First 89

Canto Second 115

Canto Third 161

Conclusion 223

Notes 227

VI CONTENTS.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

PAGE.

Introduction 241

Canto First 245

Canto Second 267

Canto Third 293

Canto Fourth . 315

Canto Fifth .337

Canto Sixth 361

Conclusion . . ^ 385

THE

LADY OF THE LAKE.

CANTO SIXTH,

^t}Z (Suarti^Eoom*

VOL. V.

THE

LADY OF THE LAKE

CANTO SIXTH,

I.

The sun^ awakening, througli the smoky air

Of the dark city casts a sullen glance.
Rousing each caitiff to his task of care.

Of sinful man the sad inheritance ;
Summoning revellers from the lagging dance,

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.

4 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

What various scenes^ and^ O ! what scenes of woe.

Are witness'd by that red and struggling beam !
The fever'd patient, from his pallet low.

Through crowded hospital beholds its stream ;
The ruin'd maiden trembles at its gleam.

The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail.
The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream ;

The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale.
Trims her sick infant's couch, and sooths his feeble
wail.

II.

At dawn the towers of Stirling rang
With soldier- step and weapon-clang.
While drums, with rolling note^ foretell
Relief to weary centinel.
Through narrow loop and casement barr'd.
The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard,
And, struggling with the smoky air,
Deaden'd the torches' yellow glare.

Canto VI, THE GUARD-ROOM.

In comfortless alliance shone
The lights through arch of blacken'd stone^
And shew'd wild shapes in garb of war.
Faces deform'd with beard and scar.
All hagard from the midnight watch.
And fever'd with the stern debauch ;
For the oak table's massive board.
Flooded with wine, with fragments stored.
And beakers drain'd, and cups overthrown,
Shew*d in what sport the night had flown.
Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ;
Some labour d still their thirst to quench ;
Some, chiird with watching, spread their hands
O'er the huge chimney's dying brands.
While round them, or beside them flung,
At every step their harness rung,

III.

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

6 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

Nor own'd the patriarchal claim

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 ;

The mountain-loving Switzer there

More freely breathed in mountain-air ;

The Fleming there despised the soil.

That paid so ill the labourer's toil ;

Their rolls shew'd French and German name ;

And merry England's exiles came.

To share, with ill-conceal'd disdain,

Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain.

All brave in arms, well train'd to wield

The heavy halbert, brand, and shield ;

In camps licentious, wild, and bold ;

In pillage, fierce and uncontroul'd ;

And now, by holytide and feast.

From rules of discipline released.

Canto VL THE GUAUD-ROOM.

IV.

They held debate of bloody fray.

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.

Whose mangled limbs, and bodies gored.

Bore token of the mountain sword,

Though, neighbouring to the Court of Guard,

Their prayers and feverish wails were heard ;

Sad burden to the ruffian joke.

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.

In host a hardy mutineer.

But still the boldest of the crew.

When deed of danger was to do.

8 THE LADY OF THE LaKE. Canto VI.

tte grieved;, that day, their games cut short.

And marr'd the dicer's brawling sport.

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.

Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule
Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl.
That there's wrath and despair in the jolly blackjack.
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 !

Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip
The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip.
Says, that Belzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly.
And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye ;

* A Bacchanalian interjection, borrowed from the Dutch.

Canto VI. THE GUARD-ROOM. 9

Yet whoop. Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker.

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

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

VI.

The warder's challenge, heard without.
Staid in mid-roar the merry shout.
A soldier to the portal went, —
^^ Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent ;
And, — ^beat for jubilee the drum !
A maid and minstrel with him come." —
Bertram, a Fleming, grey and scarr'd.
Was entering now the Court of Guard,

a2

10 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

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 roar'd : — ^^ I only know.
From noon till eve we fought with foe.
As wild and as untameable
As the rude mountains where they dwell.
On both sides store of blood is lost.
Nor much success can either boast/'—
/^ 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 I
Get thee an ape, and trudge the land.
The leader of a juggler band." —

VII.

'^ No, comrade ; — no such fortune mine.
After the fight these sought our line.

Canto VL THE GUARD-ROOM. 11

That aged harper and the girl.

And, having audience of the Earl,

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,

Ever to strife and jangling bent;

'^ Shall he strike doe beside our lodge.

And yet the jealous niggard grudge

To pay the forester his fee !

I'll have my share howe'er it be.

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 ;

But Ellen boldly stepp'd between.

And dropped at once the tartan screen : —

So, from his morning cloud, appears

The sun of May, through summer tears.

12 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

The savage soldiery^ amazed^
As on descended angel gazed ;
Even hardy Brent^ abash'd and tamed^
Stood half admiring, half ashamed.

VIIL

Boldly she spoke, — '^ Soldiers, attend !

My father was the soldier's friend ;

Cheer'd 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." —

Answer'd De Brent, most forward still

In every feat or good or ill, —

^^ I shame me of the part I play'd :

And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid !

An outlaw I by forest laws.

And merry Needwood knows the cause.

Poor Rose, — ^if Rose be living now," —

He wiped his iron eye and brow,

'^ Must bear such age, I think, as thou. —

Canto VL

THE GUARD-ROOM. 13

Hear ye^ my mates ; — I go to call
The Captain of our watch to hall :
There lies my halbert on the floor ;
And he that steps my halbert o'er^
To do the maid injurious part.
My shaft shall quiver in his heart ! —
Beware loose speech, or jesting rough :
Ye all know John de Brent. Enough/'-

i

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 humour light.
And, though by courtesy controul'd.
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.
Young Lewis was a generous youth ;

14 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Cantn VI.

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.

'^ Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid !

Come ye to seek a champion's aid.

On palfrey white, with harper hoar.

Like arrant damosel of yore ?

Does thy high quest a knight require.

Or may the venture suit a squire ?*' —

Her dark eye flash 'd ; — she paused and sigh'd, —

^^ O what have I to do with pride ! —

— Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife,

A suppliant for a father's life,

I crave an audience of the King.

Behold, to back my suit, a ring.

The royal pledge of grateful claims.

Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James." —

Canto VI, THE GUARD-ROOM. 15

X.

The signet-ring young Lewis took^
With deep respect and alter'd look ;
And said, — ." This ring our duties own ;
And, pardon, if to worth unknown.
In semblance mean obscurely veil'd.
Lady, in aught my folly fail'd.
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
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
Among the soldiers of the guard.

16 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

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 ; —

^^ Forgive a haughty English, heart.

And O forget its ruder part !

The vacant purse shall be my share.

Which in my barret-cap I'll bear.

Perchance, in jeopardy of war.

Where gayer crests may keep afar/' —

With thanks, — ^'twas all she could, — the maid

His rugged courtesy repaid-

XI.

When Ellen forth with Lewis went,
Allan made suit to John of Brent : —
^^ 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.

Canto VI. THE GUARD-ROOM. 17

Tenth in descent, since first my sires
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 sooth the infant heir.
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 sooth his sleep.
Nor leave him till we pour our verse, —
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 ;
Nor wot we how a name — a word-
Makes clansmen vassals to a lord :
Yet kind my noble landlord's part, —
God bless the house of Beaudesert !

18 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto Vl.

And^ but I loved to drive the deer.
More than to guide the labouring steer,
I had Qot dwelt an outcast here.
Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ;
Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see/' —

XIL

Then, from a rusted iron hook,
A bunch of ponderous keys he took.
Lighted a torch, and Allan led
Through grated arch and passage dread.
Portals they pass'd, where, deep within.
Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters* din ;
Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored.
Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword.
And many an hideous engine grim.
For wrenching joint, and crushing limb.
By artists form'd, who deem'd it shame
And sin to give their work a name.
They halted at a low-brow'd porch.
And Brent to Allan gave the torch.

Canto VL THE GUARD-ROOM. 19

While bolt and chain he backward roll'dj

And made the bar unhasp its hold.

They enter'd : — ^'twas a prison-room

Of stern security and gloom.

Yet not a dungeon ; for the day

Through lofty gratings found its way.

And rude and antique garniture

Deck'd the sad walls and oaken floor ;

Such as the rugged days of old

Deem'd fit for captive noble's hold.

^^ Here/' said De Brent, ^^ thou may'st remain

Till the Leach visit him again.

Strict is his charge, the warders tell.

To tend the noble prisoner well." —

Retiring then the bolt he drew.

And the lock's murmurs growl'd anew.

Roused at the sound, from lowly bed

A Captive feebly raised his head ;

The wondering Minstrel look'd, and knew —

Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu !

20 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI,

For/ come from where Clan- Alpine fought^
They, erring, deem'd the Chief he sought.

XIIL

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 !
• And oft his fever'd 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 ; —
O ! how unlike her course at sea !
Or his free step on hill and lee ! —
Soon as the Minstrel he could scan,
_ff What of thy lady ? — of my clan ? —
My mother ? — Douglas ? — tell me all !
Have they been ruin'd in my fall ?

Canto VI. THE GUARD-ROOM. 21

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.) —

^^ 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 !"—

'' 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.

Thy stately Pine is yet unbent.

Though many a goodly bough is rent." —

XIV.

The Chieftain rear'd his form on high.
And fever's fire was in his eye ;

22 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI,

But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks

Chequered 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 ! . . .

That stirring air that peals on high.

O'er Dermid's race our victory. —

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

Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced.

Fling me the picture of the fight.

When met my clan the Saxon might.

ril 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.

And my free spirit burst away.

As if it soar d from battle-fray." —

The trembling Bard with awe obey'd, —

Slow on the harp his hand he laid ;

Canto VL THE GUARD-ROOM. 23

But soon remembrance of the sight
He witnessed from the mountain's height.
With what old Bertram told at night,
Awaken'd the full power of song.
And bore him in career along ; —
As shallop launched on river's tide.
That slow and fearful leaves the side.
But, when it feels the middle stream.
Drives downward swift as lightning's beam.

XV.

:BattIe of Bear an ^uint*
'^ The Minstrel came once more to view
The eastern ridge of Ben- venue.
For, ere he parted, he would say-
Farewell to lovely Loch-Achray —
Where shall he find, in foreign land.
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! —
There is no breeze upon the fern.
No ripple on the lake.

24 ' Ttm LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

Upon her eyrie nods the erne^

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

The springing trout lies still.
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.
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

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 !

7

Canto VI. THE GUARD-ROOM. 25

To hero boune for battle-strife.

Or bard of martial lay,
*Twere worth ten years of peaceful life.

One glance at their array !

XVI.

'^ Their light-arm'd archers far and near

Survey'd the tangled ground.
Their centre ranks, with pike and spear,

A twilight forest frown'd.
Their barded horsemen, in the rear.

The stern battalia crown'd.
No cymbal clash'd, no clarion rang.

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

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

Or wave their flags abroad ;
Scarce the frail aspen seem'd to quake.

That shadow'd o'er their road.
VOL. v. B

26 ' THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

Their vaward scouts no tidings bring.

Can rouse no lurking foe.
Nor spy a trace of living thing,

Save when they stirr'd the roe ;
The host moves^ like a deep-sea wave.
Where rise no Tocks its pride to brave.

High-swelling, dark, and slow.
The lake is pass'd, and now they gain
A narrow and a broken plain.
Before the TrosacVs rugged jaws;
And here the horse and spear-men pause.
While to explore the dangerous glen,
Dive through the pass the archer-men.

XVII.

^^ At once there rose so wild a yell
Within that dark and narrow dell.
As all the fiends, from heaven that fell.
Had peal'd the banner-cry of hell !

Canto VI. THE GUARD-ROOM. 27

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.
And plaids and bonnets waving high.
And broad- swords flashing to the sky.

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

Pursuers and pursued ;
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 !'
Like reeds before the tempest's frown.
That serried grove of lances brown

At once lay levell'd low ;
And closely shouldering side to side.
The bristling ranks the onset bide. —

28 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

— ' We'll quell the savage mountaineer^

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

We'll drive them back as tame/ —

XVIII.

'^ Bearing before them, in their course,

The relics of the archer force.

Like wave with crest of sparkling foam.

Right onward did Clan- Alpine come.
Above the tide, each broad-sword bright
Was brandishing like beam of light.

Each targe was dark below ;
And with the ocean's mighty swing.
When heaving to the tempest's wing.
They hurl'd them on the foe.

* A circle of sportsmen, who, by surrounding a great space,
and gradually narrowing, brought immense quantities of deer
together, which usually made desperate efforts to break through
the Tinchel.

Canto VL THE GUARD-ROOM. 29

I heard the lance's shivering crash.
As when the whirlwind rends the ash ;
I heard the broad-sword's deadly clang.
As if an hundred anvils rang I
But Moray wheel'd his rear- ward rank
Of horsemen on Clan- Alpine's flank,—

— ^ My banner-man advance !
I see,' he cried, ^ their column shake. —
Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake.
Upon them with the lance !' —
The horsemen dash'd among the route.

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 I
One blast upon his bugle-horn

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

The battle's tide was pour'd ;

30 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear^

Vanished the mountain sword.
As Bracklinn's chasm^ so black and steep,

Receives her roaring linn^
As the dark caverns of the deep

Suck the wild whirlpool in^
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^
That deep and doubling pass within.
— Minstrel^ away ! the work of fate
Is bearing on : its issue wait^
Where the rude Trosach's dread defile
Opens on Katrine's lake and isle —
Grey Benvenue I soon repass'd^
Loch- Katrine lay beneath me cast.

'anto VL THE GUARD-ROOM. 31

The sun is set ; — the clouds are met.

The lowering scowl of heaven
An inky hue of livid blue

To the deep lake has given ;
Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen
Swept o'er the lake, then sunk agen.
I heeded not the eddying surge.
Mine eye but saw the Trosach's gorge.
Mine ear but heard the sullen sound.
Which like an earthquake shook the ground.
And spoke the stern and desperate strife
That parts not but with parting life.
Seeming, to minstrel-ear, to toll
The dirge of many a passing soul.
Nearer it comes — the dim -wood glen
The martial flood disgorged agen.

But not in mingled tide ;
The plaided warriors of the North
High on the mountain thunder forth.

And overhang its side ;

32 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

While by the lake below appears
The darkening clouds of Saxon spears.
At weary bay each shattered band.
Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand ;
Their banners stream like tatter'd sail.
That flings its fragments to the gale.
And broken arms and disarray
Mark'd the fell havock of the day.

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.
But women weak, that wring the hand :
'Tis there of yore the robber band

Their booty wont to pile ; —
My purse, with bonnet-pieces store.
To him will swim a bow-shot o'er.
And loose a shallop from the shore.

Canto VI. THE GUARD-ROOM. 33

Lightly we'll tame the war- wolf then.
Lords of his mate^ and brood, and den/ —
Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung.
On earth his casque and corslet rung,

He plunged him in the wave :— -
All saw the deed — the purpose knew.
And to their clamours Benvenue

A mingled echo gave ;
The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer.
The helpless females scream for fear.
And yells for rage the mountaineer.
'Twas then, as by the outcry riven,
Pour'd down at once the lowering heaven ;
A whirlwind swept Loch-Katrine's breast.
Her billows rear'd their snowy crest.
Well for the swimmer swell'd they high.
To mar the Highland marksman's eye ;
For round him shower'd, 'mid rain and hail.
The vengeful arrows of the Gael. — .
In vain.— -He nears the isle — and lo !
His hand is on a shallop's bow.

B 2

34 THE LADY OF THE LAKE.. Canto VI.

— Just then a flash of lightning came^

It tinged the waves and strand with flame ; —

I marked Duncraggan's widow'd danie^

Behind an oak I saw her standi

A naked dirk gleamed in her hand : —

It darken'd^ — ^but amid the moan

Of waves I heard a dying groan ; —

Another flash ! — the spearman floats

A weltering corse beside the boats^,

And the stern Matron o'er him stood.

Her hand and dagger streaming blood.

XXI.

^^ Revenge ! revenge !" the Saxons cried.
The Gaels' exulting shout replied.
Despite the elemental rage.
Again they hurried to engage ;
But, ere they closed in desperate flght.
Bloody with spurring came a knight.
Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag.
Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag.

Canto VL THE GUARD-ROOM. 35

Clarion and trumpet by his side

Rung forth a truce-note high and wide^

While^ in the Monarch's name^ afar

An herald's voice forbade the war^

For BothwelFs 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

How Roderick brook'd 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 ;

At length, no more his deafen'd ear

The minstrel melody can hear ;

His face grows sharp, — his hands are clench'd.

As if some pang his heart-strings wrench'd ;

Set are his teeth, his fading eye

Is sternly fixed on vacancy ;

36 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VJ.

Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew

His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu ! —

Old Allan-bane look'd on aghast.

While grim and still his spirit passed ;

But when he saw that life was fled.

He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead.

XXII.

iLament*
'^ And art thou cold and lowly laid.
Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid,
Breadalbane's boast. Clan- Alpine's shade!itr\**'
For thee shall none a requiem say ?
— For thee,— -who loved the minstrel's lay, i
For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, 'u
The shelter of her exiled line.
E'en in this prison-house of thine,
ril wail for Alpine's honour'd Pine !

'' What groans shall yonder vallies filli! ;-
What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill !

Canto VI.

THE GUARD-ROOM. 37

What tears of burning rage shall thrill.
When mourns thy tribe thy battles done.
Thy fall before the race was won.
Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun !
There breathes not clansman of thy line.
But would have given his life for thine, —
O woe for Alpine's honoui-'d Pin^Ij . ; v

'' Sad was thy lot on mortal stage !^—
The captive thrush may brook the cage>
The prison d eagle dies for rage. ^'i ;
Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain^ b anD ipii'i.
And, when its notes awake again^^a juj ':n-^^r
Even she, so long beloved in vai^a eiqif> n *
Shall with my harp her voice combine, a ^^ud Vf
And mix her woe and tears with mine>
To wail Clan- Alpine's honoured Pine/'-rf^^ tj.i.

XXIII.
Ellen, the while, with bursting heart.
Remained in lordly bower apart.

38 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

Where play'd^ with many-colour'd gleams^
Through storied pane the rising beams.
In vain on gilded roof they fall^
And lightened up a tapestried wall.
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 look'd, 'twas but to say.
With better omen dawn'd 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,
While Lufra, crouching by her side.
Her station claimed with jealous pride,
And Douglas, bent on woodland game.
Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme,
Whose answer, oft at random made.
The wandering of his thoughts betrayed. —

Canto VI, THE GUAHD-ROOM. 39

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.
What distant music has the power
To win her in this woeful hour !
'Twas from a turret that o'erhung
Her latticed bower, the strain was sung.

XXIV.

Hag of t|)e impri0oneti C&untj0man*
" My hawk is tired of perch and hood.
My idle grey-hound 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.
With bended bow and blood-hound free.
For that's the life is meet for me.

40 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VJ.

" I hate to learn the ebb of time.
From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime.
Or mark it as the sun-beams crawl.
Inch after inch, along the wall.
The lark was wont my matins ring.
The sable rook my vespers sing ;
These towers, although a king's they be.
Have not a hall of joy for me.

" No more at dawning morn I rise.
And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, : u -^^^^
Drive the fleet deer the forest through.
And homeward wend with evening dew ;
A blithesome welcome blithely meet.
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 list'ner had not turn'd her head.

Canto VL THE GUAKD-ROOM. 41

It trickled still, the starting tear, isytu^i

When light a footstep struck her ear.

And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near.

She turn'd the hastier, lest again

The prisoner should renew his strain.

^^ 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.

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 lead his better mood aside, ^^ya jiiii

Come, Ellen, come !-— 'tis more than time.

He holds his court at morning prime."—

With beating heart, and bosom wrung.

As to a brother's arm she clung.

Gently he dried the falling tear.

And gently whisper'd hope and cheer ;

42 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canio VI.

Her faultering steps half led^ half staid.
Through gallery fair and high arcade.
Till, at his touch, its wings of pride
A portal arch unfolded wide.

XXVI.

Within 'twas brilliant all and light,
A thronging scene of figures bright ;
It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight.
As when the setting sun has given
Ten thousand hues to summer even.
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.
And fearful round the presence gazed ;
For him she sought, who own'd this state,
The dreaded prince whose will was fate I —
She gazed on many a princely port.
Might well have ruled a royal court ;

Canto VI. THE GUARD-ROOM. 43

On many a splendid garb she gazed, —

Then turn'd bewildered and amazed.

For all stood bare ; and, in the room,

Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume.

To him each lady's look was lent ;

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 !

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 choaking voice commands, —

She shew'd the ring — she clasp'd her hands.

O ! not a moment could he brook.

The generous prince, that suppliant look !

44 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

Gently he raised her^ — and^ the while^

Check'd with a glance the circle's smUe ;

Graceful^ but grave^ her brow he kiss'd.

And bade her terrors be dismissed : —

'' YeSj Fair ; the wandering poor Fitz- James

The fealty of Scotland claims.

To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring ;

He will redeem his signet ring.

Ask nought for Douglas ; — yester even.

His prince and he have much forgiven :

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue,

I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong.

We would not to the vulgar crowd

Yield what they craved with clamour loud ;

Calmly we heard and judged his cause,

Our council aided, and our laws.

I stanch'd thy father's death-feud stern.

With stout De Vaux and grey Glencairn ;

And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own

The friend and bulwark of our Throne.—

Canto VI. THE GUARD-ROOM. 45

But, lovely infidel, how now ?
What clouds thy misbelieving brow ?
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.
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;
He stepp'd 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
In life's more low but happier way,
10

46 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI.

'Tis under name which veils my power^

Nor falsely veils — for Stirling's tower

Of yore the name of Snowdon claim s^

And Normans call me James Fitz-James.

Thus watch I o'er insulted lawS;,

Thus learn to right th^ injured cause/' —

Then^ in a tone apart and low,

— '^ Ahy little trait'ress ! none must know

What idle dream, what lighter thought.

What vanity full dearly bought,

Join'd 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 !" —

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 ?"

Canto VI. 'iHE GUARD-ROOM. 47

XXIX.

Full well the conscious maiden guess'd;,

He probed the weakness of her breast ;

But, with that consciousness, there came

A lightning of her fears for Graeme,

And more she deem'd the Monarch's ire

Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire.

Rebellious broad-sword 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.

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 ?

No other captive friend to save ?"

Blushing, she turn'd her from the King,

And to the Douglas gave the ring.

48 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VJ.

As if she wish'd her sire to speak
The suit that stain'd her glowing cheek. —
^^ Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force,
And stubborn justice holds her com*se.
Malcolm, come forth !" — ^And, at the word,
Down kneel'd the Graeme to Scotland's Lord.
^' For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues.
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.
Dishonouring 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,
And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand.

Canto VI.

THE GUARD-ROOM* 49

Harp of the North, farewell ! The hills grow dark,

On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ;
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark.

The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending.
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.

Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp I
Yet, once again; forgive my feeble sway.

And little reck I of the censure sharp
May idly cavil at an idle lay.
VOL. v. c

50 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto VI,

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

When on the weary night dawn'd 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.

Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string !
'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire,

'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing.
Receding now, the dying numbers ring

Fmnter and fainter down the rugged dell.
And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring

A wandering witch-note of the distant spell —
And now, tis silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well !

END OF CANTO SIXTH.

NOTES

TO

Cftelatig oftfjr lafee*

NOTES TO CANTO VL

Note I.

These drew not for their fields the sword^

Like tenants of a feudal lord.

Nor own'd the patriarchal claim

Of chieftain in their leader'* s name ;

Adventurers they P. 6.

The Scottish armies consisted chiefly of the nobility and ba-
rons, with their vassals, who held lands under them, for mili-
tary service by themselves and their tenants. The patriarchal
influence exercised by the heads of clans in the Highlands and
Borders was of a different nature, and sometimes at variance
with feudal principles. It flowed from the Patria Potestas.
exercised by the chieftain as representing the original father of
the whole name, and was often obeyed in contradiction to \\\c
feudal superior. James V. seems first to have introduce^?

54 NOTES TO

addition to the militia furnished from these sources, the service
of a small number of mercenaries, who formed a body-guard,
called the Foot-Band. The satirical poet, Sir David Lindsay,
(or the person who wrote the prologue to his play of the
" Three Estaites,") has introduced Finlay of the Foot-Band,
who, after much swaggering upon the stage, is at length put to
flight by the fool, who terrifies him by means of a sheep's skull
upon a pole. I have rather chosen to give them the harsh fea-
tures of the mercenary soldiers of the period, than of this Scot-
tish Thraso. These partook of the character of the Adventurous
Companions of Froissart, or the Condottieri of Italy.

One of the best and liveliest traits of such manners is the last
will of a leader, called GefFroy Tete Noir, who having been
slightly wounded in a skirmish, his intemperance brought on a
mortal disease. When he found himself dying, he summoned
to his bed-side the adventurers whom he commanded, and thus
addressed them : —

'' Fayre sirs, quod GefFray, I knowe well ye have alwayes
served and honoured me as men ought to serve their sove-
raygne and capitayne, and I shal be the gladder if ye will agre
to have to your capitayne one that is descended of my blode.
Behold here Aleyne Roux, my cosyn, and Peter his brother,
who are men of armes and of my blode. I require you to make
Aleyne your capitayne, and to swere to him faythe, obey-
saunce, love, and loyalte, here in my presence, and also to his
brother : ho we be it, I wyll that Aleyne have the soverayne
charge. Sir, quod they, we are well content, for ye hauve
ryght well chosen. There all the companyons made theym

THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 55

servyant to Aleyne Roux and to Peter his brother. Whan all
that was done, then GefFraye spake agayne, and sayd : Nowe,
sirs, ye hauve obeyed to my pleasure, I canne you great thanke ;
wherefore, sirs, I wyll ye have parte of that ye have holpen to
conquere. I say unto you, that in yonder chest that ye se stande
yonder, therein is to the some of xxx thousande frankes, — I
wyll give them accordynge to my conscyence. Wyll ye all be
content to fulfyl my testament ; howe saye ye ? Sir, quod they,
we be ryght well contente to fulfyl your commaundement.
Thane firste, quod he, I wyll and give to the chapell of Saynt
Gfeorge, here in this castell, for the reparacions thereof, a thou-
sande and five hundrede frankes : and I give to my lover, who
hath truly served me, two thousand and five hundrede frankes :
and also I give to Aleyne Roux, your new capitayne, foure
thousande frankes : also to the varieties of my chamber I
gyve fyve hundrede frankes. To mine ofFycers 1 gyve a thou-
sand and five hundrede frankes. The rest I gyve and bequeth
as I sha shew you. Ye be upon a thyrtie companyons all
of one sorte : ye ought to be bretherne, and all of one aly-
aunce, without debate, ryotte, or strife among you. All
this that I have shewed you ye shall fynde in yonder cheste.
I wyU that ye departe all the residue equally and truelly bi-
twene you thyrtie. And if ye be nat thus contente, but that
the devylle wyll set debate bytwene you, than beholde yonder
is a strong axe, breke up the coffer, and gette it who can. To
these words every man ansuered and said, Sir, and dere mais-
tei, we are and shall be all of one accorde. Sir, we have so
mpch loved and doated you, that we will breke no coffer, nor

56 NOTES TO

breke no poynt of that ye have ordayned and commanded," —
Lord Behners' FroissarU

Note II.
Thou now hast glee'inaiden and harp ;
Get thee an ape and trudge the land^
The leader of a juggler hand. — P. 10.
The jongleurs, or jugglers, as we learn from the elaborate
work of the late Mr Strutt, on the sports and pastimes of the
people of England, 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 tum-
bling and dancing ; and therefore the Anglo-Saxon version of
Saint Mark's Gospel states Herodias to have vaulted or tum-
bled before King Herod. In Scotland, these poor creatures
seem, even at a late period, to have been bonds-women to their
masters, as appears from a case reported by Fountainhall.
" Reid the mountebank pursues Scot of Harden and his lady,
for stealing away from him a little girl, called the tumbling-
lassie, that danced upon his stage : and he claimed damages,
and produced a contract, whereby he bought her from her mo-
ther for 30/. Scots. But we have no slaves in Scotland, and
mothers cannot sell their bairnes ; and physicians attested, the
employment of tumbling would kill her ; and her joints were
now grown stiff, and she declined to return ; though she was
at least a 'prentice, and so could not run away from her master :
yet some cited Moses's law, that if a servant shelter himself
with thee, against his master's cruelty, thou shalt surely not

THE LADY OT THE LAKE, 5T

deliver him up. The lords, renitente cancellario^ assoilzied
Harden, on the 27th of January, (1687.)" — Fountaixhai.l's
Decisions^ vol. I. p. 439.^*

The facetious qualities of the ape soon rendered him an ac-
ceptable addition to the strolling band of the jongleur. Ben
Jonson, in his splenetic introduction to the comedy of " Bar-
tholomew Fair," is at pains to inform the audience '' that he has
ne'er a sword and buckler man in his Fair, nor a juggler, with
a weU-educated ape, to come over the chaine for the King of
England, and back again for the prince, and sit still on his
haunches for the Pope and the King of Spaine."

Note III.
That stirring air which peals on htgh^
O'er Hermiffs race our victory^

Strike it ! P. 22.

There are several instances, at least in tradition, of persons
so much attached to particular tunes, as to require to hear
them on their death-bed. Such an anecdote is mentioned by

♦ Though less to ray purpose, I, cannot help noticing a circumstance
respecting another of this Mr Reid's attendants, which occurred during
James II.'s zeal for catholic proselytism, and is told by FountainhaU, with
dry Scottish irony. ** January 17th, 1687. — Reid the mountebank is recei-
ved into the popish church, and one of his blackamores was persuaded
to accept of baptism from the popish priests, and to turn Christian papist ;
which was a great trophy : he was called James, after the king and chan-
cell«r, and the Apostle James.' '—Ibid, p. 440.

c2

58 :notes to

the late Mr Riddel of Glenriddel, in his collection of Border
tunes, respecting an air called the " Dandling of the Bairns,"
for which a certain Gallovidian laird is said to have evinced
this strong mark of partiality. It is popularly told of a famons
freebooter, that he composed the tune known by the name of
Macpherson's Rant while under sentence of death, and played
it at the gallows-tree. Some spirited words have been adapted
to it by Burns. A similar story is recounted of a Welch bard,
who composed and played on his death-bed the air called Da-
fyddy Garregg Wen,

But the most curious example is given by Brantome, of a
maid of honour at the court of France, entitled. Mademoiselle
de Limeuil. " Durant sa maladie, dont e le trespassa, jamais
elle ne cessa, ains causa tousjours ; car elle estoit fort grande
parleuse, brocardeuse, et tres-bien et fort a propos, et tres-belle
avec cela. Quand Theure de sa fin fut venue, elle fit venir a
soy son valet, (ainsi que le fiUes de la cour en ont chacune un)
qui s'appeloit Julien, et scavoit tres-bien joiier du violon.
' JuUen, luy dit elle, prenez vostre violon et sonnez moy tous-
jours jusques a ce que me voyez morte (car je m'y en vais,) la
d^faite des Suisses, et le mieux que vous pourrez, et quand vous
serez sur le mot, ' Tout est perdu,' sonnez le par quatre ou
cing fois, le plus piteusement que vous pourrez,' ce qui fit
I'autre, et elle-mesme luy aidoit de la voix, et quand ce vint
' tout est perdu,' alle le reitera par deux fois ; et se tournant
de I'autre cost6 du chevet, elle dit a ses compagnes : ' Tout
est perdu a ce coup, et a bon escient ;' et ainsi deceda. Voila
une morte joyeuse et plaisante, Je tiens ce conte de deux de

THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 59

ses compagnes, dignes de foi, qui virent joUer ce mystere." —
Oeuvres de Brantome^ III. 507.

The tune to which this fair lady chose to make her final exit
was composed on the defeat of the Swiss at Marignano. The
burden is quoted by Panurge, in Rabelais, and consists of these
words, imitating the jargon of the Swiss, which is a mixture of
French and German :

'^ Tout est velore
La Tintelore,
Tout est verlore bi Got !"

Note IV.
Battle of Seal an Duine P. 23.

A skirmish actually took place at a pass thus called in the
Trosachs, and closed with the remarkable incident mentioned
in the text. It was greatly posterior in date to the reign of
James V.

" In this roughly-wooded island,* the country people se-
creted their wives and children, and their most valuable effects,
from the rapacity of Cromwell's soldiers, during their inroad into
this country, in the time of the republic. These invaders, not
venturing to ascend by the ladders, along the side of the lake,

* That at the eastern extremity of Loch Katrine, so often mentionecl
in the text.

60 XOTES TO

took a more circuitous road, through the heart of the Trosachs,
the most frequented path at that time, which penetrates the
wildernass about half way between Binean and the lake, by a
tract called Yea-chilleach, or the Old Wife's Bog.

" In one of the defiles of this by-road, the men of the coun-
try at that time hung upon the rear of the invading enemy, and
shot one of Cromwell's men, whose grave marks the scene of
action, and gives name to that pass.* In revenge of this insult
the soldiers resolved to plunder the island, to violate the wo-
men, and put the children to death. With this brutal inten-
tion, one of the party, more expert than the rest, swam to-
wards the island, to fetch the boat to his comrades, which had
carried the women to their asylum, and lay moored in one of
the creeks. His companions stood on the shore of the main
land, in full view of all that was to pass, waiting anxiously for
his return with the boat. But just as the swimmer had got to
the nearest point of the island, and was laying hold of a black
rock, to get on shore, a heroine, who stood on the yery point
where he meant to land, hastily snatching a dagger from below
her apron, with one stroke severed his head from the body.
His party seeing this disaster, and relinquishing aU future hope
of revenge or conquest, made the best of their way out of their
perilous situation. This amazon's great-grandson lives at Bridge
of Turk, who, besides others, attests the anecdote." — Sketch

* BeaUadi an duine.

THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 61

of the Scenery near Callander. Stirling, 1806, p. 20. I have
only to add to this account, that the heroine's name was He-
len Stuart.

Note V.
And Snowdoun''s knight is Scotland's king. — P. 33.

This discovery will probably remind the reader of the beau-
tiful Arabian tale of II Bondocani, Yet the incident is not
borrowed from that elegant story, but from Scottish tradition.
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 at-
tention 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-
iiable motive of gallantry, he used to traverse the vicinage of
his several palaces in various disguises. The two excellent
comic songs, entitled " The Gaberlunzie Man," and " We'll
gae nae mair a roving," are said to have been founded upon
the success of his amorous adventures when travelling in the
disguise of a beggar. The latter is perhaps the best comic
ballad in any language.

Another adventure, which had nearly cost James his life, is
said to have taken place at the village of Cramond, near Edin-
burgh, where he had rendered his addresses acceptable to a
pretty girl of the lower rank. Four or five persons, whether
relations or lovers of his mistress is uncertain, beset the dis-

62 XOTES TO

guised monarch, as he returned from his rendezvous. Natu-
rally gallant, and an admirable master of his weapon, the king
took post on the high and narrow bridge over the Almond
river, and defended himself bravely with his sword. A pea-
sant, who was threshing in a neighbouring barn, came out upon
the noise, and, whether moved by compassion or by natural gal-
lantry, took the weaker side, and laid about with his flail so
eiFectually, as to disperse the assailants, well threshed, even
according to the letter. He then conducted the king into his
barn, where his guest requested a basin and a towel, to remove
the stains of the broil. This being procured with difficulty,
James employed himself in learning what was the summit of
his deliverer's earthly wishes, and found that they were bound-
ed by the desire of possessing, in property, the farm of Brae-
head, upon which he laboured as a bondsman. The lands
chanced to belong to the crown ; and James directed him to
come to the palace of Holy-Rood, and inquire for the Guid-
man (i. e. farmer) of Ballengiech, a name by which he was
known in his excursions, and which answered to the II Bondocani
of Haroun Alraschid. He presented himself accordingly, and
found, with due astonishment, that he had saved his monarch's
life, and that he was to be gratified with a crown-charter of the
lands of Braehead, under the service of presenting an ewer,
basin, and towel, for the king to wash his hands, when he
shall happen to pass the Bridge of Cramond. This person was
ancestor of the Howisons of Braehead, in Mid Lothian, a re-
spectable family, who continue to hold the lands (now passed
into the female line) under the same tenure.

THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 63

Another of James's frolics is thus narrated by Mr Campbell,
from the Statistical Account. " Being once benighted when
out a-hunting, and separated from his attendants, he happened
to enter a cottage in the midst of a moor, at the foot of the
Ochil hills, near Alloa, where, unknown, he was kindly re-
ceived. In order to regale their unexpected guest, the gude-
man^ (i. e, landlord, farmer,) desired the gudewife io fetch the
hen that roosted nearest the cock, which is always the plump-
est, for the stranger's supper. The king, highly pleased with
his night's lodging and hospitable entertainment, told mine
host, at parting, that he should be glad to return his civility,
and requested that the first time he came to Stirling he would
call at the castle, and inquire for the Gudeman of Ballengmch*
Donaldson, the landlord, did not fail to call on the Gudenian
of BallenguicJi^ when his astonishment at finding that the king
had been his guest afforded no small amusement to the merry
monarch and his courtiers ; and, to carry on the pleasantry, he
was thenceforth designated by James with the title of King of
the Moors, which name and designation have descended from
father to son ever since, and they have continued in possession
of the identical spot, the property of Mr Erskine of Mar, till
very lately, when this gentleman, with reluctance, turned out
the descendant and representative of the King of the Moors,
on account of his majesty's invincible indolence, and great
dislike to reform or innovation of any kind, although, from
the spirited example of his neighbour tenants on the same es-
tate, he is convinced similar exertion would promote his ad-
vantage."

64 :notks to

The author requests permission yet farther to verify the sub-
ject of his poem, by an abstract from the genealogical work of
Buchanan of Auchmar, upon Scottish surnames.

'' This John Buchanan of Auchmar and Arnpryor was after-
wards termed King of Kippen,* upon the following account :
King James V., a very sociable, debonair prince, residing at
Stirling, in Buchanan of Arnpryor's time, carriers were very
frequently passing along the common road, being near Arn-
pryor's house, with necessaries for the use of the king's family ;
and he, having some extraordinary occasion, ordered one of
these carriers to leave his load at his house, and he would pay
him for it ; which the carrier refused to do, telling him he was
the king's carrier, and his load for his majesty's use ; to which
Arnpryor seemed to have small regard, compelling the carrier,
in tjie end, to leave his load ; telling him, if King James was
King of Scotland, he was King of Kippen, so that it was rea-
sonable he should share with his neighbour king in some of
these loads, so frequently carried that road. The carrier re-
presenting this usage, and telling the story, as Arnpryor spoke
it, to some of the king's servants, it came at length to his ma-
jesty's ears, who, shortly thereafter, with a few attendants,
came to visit his neighbour king, who was in the mean time a^
dinner. King James having sent a servant to demand access,
was denied the same by a tall fellow with a battle-axe, who

« A small district of Perthshire.

THE LADY OK THE LAKE. 65

stood porter at the gate, telling, there could be no access till
dinner was over. This answer not satisfying the king, he sent
to demand access a second time ; upon which he was desired
by the porter to desist, otherwise he would find cause to re-
pent his rudeness. His majesty finding this method would not
do, desired the porter to tell his master that the Goodman of
Ballageigh desired to speak with the King of Kippen. The
porter telling Arnpryor so much, he, in all humble manner,
came and received the king, and having entertained him with
much sumptuousness and jollity, became so agreeable to King
James, that he allowed him to take so much of any provision
he found carrying that road as he had occasion for ; and seeing
he made the first visit, desired Arnpryor in a few days to re-
turn him a second to Stirling, which he performed, and conti-
nued in very much favour with the king, always thereafter be-
ing termed King of Kippen while he lived." — Buchanan's
Essay upon the Family of Buchanan. Edin. 177^, 8vo. p. 74.
The readers of Ariosto must give credit for the amiable fea-
tures with which he is represented, since he is generally con-
sidered as the prototype of Zerbino, the most interesting hero
of the Orlando Furioso.

Note VI.

SUrling^s Tower

Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims.^-lP, 36.
William of Worcester, who wrote about the middle of the

66 NOTES TO

fifteenth century, calls Stirling Castle Snowdoun. Sir David
Lindsay bestows the same epithet upon it in his Complaint of
the Papingo :

Adieu, fair Snawdoun, with thy towers high,
Thy chaple-royal, park, and table round ;
May, June, and July, would I dwell in thee,
Were I a man, to hear the birdis sound,
Whilk doth again e thy royal rock rebound.

Mr Chalmers, in his late excellent edition of Sir David
Lindsay's works, has refuted the chimerical derivation of Snaw-
doun from snedding^ or cutting. It was probably derived from
the romantic legend which connected Stirling with King Ar-
thur, to which the mention of the Round Table gives counte-
nance. The ring within which justs were formerly practised,
in the castle park, is still called the Round Table. Snawdoun
is the official title of one of the Scottish heralds, whose epithets
seem in all countries to have been fantastically adopted from
ancient history or romance.

It appears from the preceding note, that the real name by
which James was actually distinguished in his private excur-
sions, was the Goodman of Ballenguich ; derived from a steep
pass leading up to the Castle of Stirling, so called. But the
epithet would not have suited poetry, and would besides at

THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 67

once, and prematurely, have announced the plot to many of
my countrymen, among whom the traditional stories above
mentioned are still current.

The Author has to apologize for the inadvertent appropriation
of a whole line from the tragedy of Douglas^

" I hold the first who strikes, my foe."

THE

BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN;

OR,

THE VALE OF ST JOHN.

A LOVER S TALE,

An df-quene wol I love ywis.
For in this world no woman is

Worthy to be my make in toun :
All other women I forsake.
And to an elf-quene I me take

By dale and eke by doun.

RIME OF SIR TM0PA8.

PREFACE

TO THE EARLY EDITIONS.

In the Edinburgh Annual Register for
the year 1809, three Fragments were inserted,
written in imitation of Living Poets. It must
have been apparent, that by these prolusions,
nothing burlesque, or disrespectful to the au-
thors, was intended, but that they were offered
to the public as serious, though certainly very
imperfect, imitations of that style of composi-
tion, by which each of the writers is supposed
to be distinguished. As these exercises attract-
ed a greater degree of attention than the author
anticipated, he has been induced to complete
one of them, and present it as a separate pub-
lication.

72 PREFACE.

It is not in this place that an examination
of the works of the master whom he has here
adopted as his model, can, with propriety, be
introduced ; since his general acquiescence in
the favourable suiFrage of the pubHc must ne-
cessarily be inferred from the attempt he has
now made. He is induced by the nature of
his subject, to offer a few remarks on what has
been called romantic poetry ; — the popu-
larity of which has been revived in the present
day, under the auspices, and by the unparal-
leled success, of one individual.

The original purpose of poetry is either re-
ligious or historical, or, as must frequently
happen, a mixture of both. To modern read-
ers, the poems of Homer have many of the
features of pure romance ; but in the estima-
tion of his contemporaries, they probably de-
rived their chief value from their supposed
historical authenticity. The same may be ge-
nerally said of the poetry of all early ages.
The marvels and miracles which the poet
blends with his song, do not exceed in number

TREFACE. 73

or extravagance the figments of the historians
of the same period of society ; and, indeed,
the difference betwixt poetry and prose, as the
vehicles of historical truth, is always of late
introduction. Poets, under various denomi-
nations of Bards, Scalds, Chroniclers, and so
forth, are the first historians of all nations.
Their intention is to relate the events they
have witnessed, or the traditions that have
reached them; and they clothe the relation in
rhyme, merely as the means of rendering it
more solemn in the narrative, or more easily
committed to memory. But as the poetical
historian improves in the art of conveying in-
formation, the authenticity of his narrative
unavoidably declines. He is tempted to dilate
and dwell upon the events that are interesting
to his imagination, and, conscious how indif-
ferent his audience is to the naked truth of
his poem, his history gradually becomes a ro-
mance.

It is in this situation that those epics are
found which have been generally regarded the

VOL. V. D

74 PREFACE.

standards of poetry; and it has happened
somewhat strangely, that the moderns have
pointed out as the characteristics and peculiar
excellencies of narrative poetry, the very cir-
cumstances which the authors themselves
adopted, only because their art involved the
duties of the historian as well as the poet. It
cannot be believed, for example, that Homer
selected the siege of Troy as the most appro-
priate subject for poetry ; his purpose was to
write the early history of his country : the
event he has chosen, though not very fruitful
in varied incident, nor perfectly well adapted
for poetry, was nevertheless combined with
traditionary and genealogical anecdotes ex-
tremely interesting to those who were to listen
to him ; and this he has adorned by the exer-
tions of a genius, which, if it has been equal-
led, has certainly never been surpassed. It
was not till comparatively a late period that the
general accuracy of his narrative, or his pur-
pose in composing it, was brought into ques-
tion. AoKH TT^arog o Avx^ayc^^ct^ {kx&oc ^n^i foiZo^tv^

PREFACE. 75

iivccv u^dvig Koii diKotoa-vvm.* But whatever theories
might be framed by speculative men, his work
was of an historical, not of an allegorical na-
ture. EvsivliXXild (Allot, m Mivliaq, Kdi otth iKottflols
cc^iKOijoy TTccvloc Toi i7rt^6f^ic6 ^ ii^uTocro y ocoii lorTo^ivaif
iTrvv&acyiTO, azog di f^iv v^v Kctt fAvyif^tKrvvoe, TTocfrav y^o)(pi<r-

6x1. t Instead of recommending the choice of a
subject similar to that of Homer, it was to be
expected that critics should have exhorted the
poets of these later days to adopt or invent a
narrative in itself more susceptible of poetical
ornament, and to avail themselves of that ad-
vantage in order to compensate, in some de-
gree, the inferiority of genius. The contrary
course has been inculcated by almost all the
writers upon the Epopceia ; with what success^
the fate of Homer'^s numerous imitators may
best shew. The ultimum supplicium of criti-
cism was inflicted on the author if he did not
- - - • ■ • • - — ■ — ^»^-^—

* Diogenes Laertius^ 1. 11, p. 8.
t Homeri Vita.

76 PREFACE.

chuse a subject which at once deprived him of
all claim to originality, and placed him, if not
in actual contest, at least in fatal comparison,
with those giants in the land, whom it was most
his interest to avoid. The celebrated recipe
for writing an epic poem, which appeared in
the Guardian, was the first instance in which
common sense was applied to this department
of poetry ; and indeed, if the question be con-
sidered on its own merits, we must be satisfied
that narrative poetry, if strictly confined to the
great occurrences of history, would be depri-
ved of the individual interest which it is so well
calculated to excite.

Modern poets may therefore be pardoned in
seeking simpler subjects of verse, more inte-
resting in proportion to their simplicity. Two
or three figures, well grouped, suited the artist
better than a crowd, for whatever purpose as-
sembled. For the same reason, a scene imme-
diately presented to the imagination, and di-
rectly brought home to the feelings, though
involving the fate but of one or two persons.

PREFACE. 77

is more favourable for poetry than the political
struggles and convulsions which influence the
fate of kingdoms. The former are within the
reach and comprehension of all, and, if depict-
ed with vigour^ seldom fail to fix attention:
The other, if more sublime, are more vague
and distant, less capable of being distinctly un-
derstood, and infinitely less capable of exciting
those sentiments which it is the very purpose
of poetry to inspire. To generalize is always
to destroy effect. We would, for example, be
more interested in the fate of an individual sol-
dier in combat, than in the grand event of a
general action ; with the happiness of two lo-
vers raised from misery and anxiety to peace
and union, than with the successful exertions
of a w^iole nation. From what causes this may
originate, is a separate, and obviously an im-
material consideration. Before ascribing this
peculiarity to causes decidedly and odiously
selfish, it is proper to recollect, that while men
see only a limited space, and while their affec-
tions and conduct are regulated, not by aspi-

78 PREFACE.

ring at an universal good, but by exerting their
power of making themselves and others happy
within the limited scale allotted to each indivi-
dual, so long will individual history and indi-
vidual virtue be the readier and more accessi-
ble road to general interest and attention; and
perhaps we may add, that it is the more useful,
as well as the more accessible, inasmuch as it
affords an example capable of being easily imi-
tated.

According to the author's idea of Romantic
Poetry, as distinguished from Epic, the former
comprehends a fictitious narrative, framed and
combined at the pleasure of the writer ; begin-
ning and ending as he may judge best; which
neither exacts nor refuses the use of superna-
tural machinery ; which is free from the tech-
nical rules of the Epee ; and is subject only to
those which good sense, good taste, and good
morals, apply to every species of poetry with-
out exception. The date may be in a remote
age, or in the present ; the story may detail the
adventures of a prince or of a peasant. In a

PREFACE. 79

word, the author is absolute master of his coun-
try and its inhabitants, and every thing is per-
mitted to him, excepting to be heavy or pro-
saic, for which, free and unembarrassed as he
is, he has no manner of apology. Those, it is
probable, will be found the peculiarities of this
species of composition ; and, before joining the
outcry against the vitiated taste that fosters
and. encourages it, the justice and grounds of
it ought to be made perfectly apparent. If the
want of sieges and battles and great military
evolutions in our poetry is complained of, let
us reflect, that the campaigns and heroes of
our day are perpetuated in a record, that nei-
ther requires nor admits of the aid of fiction ;
and if the complaint refers to the inferiority of
our bards, let us pay a just tribute to their mo-
desty, limiting them, as it does, to subjects,
which, however indifferently treated, have still
the interest and charm of novelty, and which
thus prevents them from adding insipidity to
their other more insuperable defects.

THE

BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN.

INTRODUCTION.

L

Come, Lucy ! while 'tis morning hour.

The woodland brook we needs must pass ;
So, ere the sun assume his power.
We shelter in our poplar bower.
Where dew lies long upon the flower.

Though vanished from the velvet grass.
Curbing the stream, this stony ridge
May serve us for a sylvan bridge ;
For here, compell'd to disunite.

Round petty isles the runnels glide,
D 2

82 THE BllIDAL

And cliafing off their puny spite.
The shallow murmur ers waste their might.
Yielding to footstep free and light
A dry-shod pass from side to side.

11.

Nay, why this hesitating pause ?
And, Lucy, as thy step withdraws.
Why sidelong eye the streamlet's brim ?

Titania's foot without a slip.
Like thine, though timid, light, and slim.
From stone to stone might safely trip.
Nor risk the glow-worm clasp to dip
That binds her slipper's silken rim.
Or trust thy lover's strength : nor fear
That this same stalwart arm of mine.
Which could yon oak's prone trunk uprear.
Shall shrink beneath the burthen dear

Of form so slender, light, and fine.—
So, — now, the danger dared at last.
Look back and smile at perils past I

OF TJIIEIIMAIN. 83

III.

And now we reach the favourite glade^

Paled in by copse-wood^ cliff, and stone^,
Where never harsher sounds invade^

To break affection's whispering tone.
Than the deep breeze that waves the shade.

Than the small brooklet's feeble moan.
Come ! rest thee on thy wonted seat ;

Moss'd is the stone, the turf is green,
A place where lovers best may meet.

Who would not that their love be seen.
The boughs, that dim the summer sky.
Shall hide us from each lurking spy.

That fain would spread the invidious tale.
How Lucy of the lofty eye.
Noble in birth, in fortunes high.
She for whom lords and barons sigh.

Meets her poor Arthur in the dale.

84 THE BRIDAL

IV.

How deep that blush ! how deep that sigh I
And why does Lucy shun mine eye ?—
Is it because that crimson draws
Its colour from some secret cause.
Some hidden movement of the breast.
She would not that her Arthur guess'd ?
O ! quicker far is lovers* ken
Than the ^uH glance of common men.
And, by strange sympathy, can spell
The thoughts the loved one will not tell !
And mine, in Lucy's blush, saw met
The hue of pleasure and regret ;

Pride mingled in the sigh her voice.

And shared with Love the crimson glow.

Well pleased that thou art Arthur's choice.
Yet shamed thine own is placed so low.

Thou turn'st thy self-confessing cheek.
As if to meet the breeze's cooling ;

OF TRIERMAIN. 85

Then, Lucy, hear thy tutor speak.

For Love, too, has his hours of schooling.

V.

Too oft my anxious eye has spied

That secret grief thou fain would'st hide.

The passing pang of humbled pride ;

Too oft, when through the splendid hall.

The load-star of each heart and eye.
My fair one leads the glittering ball.
Will her stolen glance on Arthur fall.

With such a blush and such a sigh !
Thou would'st not yield,*for wealth or rank.

The heart thy worth and beauty won.
Nor leave me on this mossy bank.

To meet a rival on a throne :
Why, then, should vain repinings rise.
That to thy lover fate denies
A nobler name, a wide domain,
A Baron's birth, a menial train.

86 THE BRIDAL

Since heaven assigned him^ for his part,
A lyre, a faulchion, and a heart ?

VI.

My sword its master must be dumb ;

But, when a soldier names my name.
Approach, my Lucy ! fearless come.

Nor dread to hear of Arthur's shame.
My heart — ^'mid all yon courtly crew^

Of lordly rank and lofty line.
Is there to love and honour true.

That boasts a pulse so warm as mine ?
They praised thy diamonds' lustre rare—

Match'd with thine eyes, I thought it faded ;
They praised the pearls that bound thy hair—

I only saw the locks they braided ;
They talk'd of wealthy dower and land.
And titles of high birth the token —
I thought of Lucy's heart and hand.
Nor knew the sense of what was spoken.

OF TKIERMAIN. 87

And yet^ if rank'd in Fortune's roll,

I might have learn'd their choice unwise.

Who rate the dower above the soul.
And Lucy's diamonds o'er her eyes.

VII.

My lyre — ^it is an idle toy.

That borrows accents not its own.
Like warbler of Columbian sky.

That sings but in a mimic tone.*
Ne'er did it sound o'er sainted well.
Nor boasts it aught of Border spell ;
Its strings no feudal slogan pour.
Its heroes draw no broad claymore ;
No shouting clans applauses raise.
Because it sung their fathers' praise ;
On Scottish moor, or English down.
It ne'er was graced with fair renown ;
Nor won, — best meed to minstrel true,—
One favouring smile from fair Buccleuch I

m i^m II II. . Ill in I————

• The Mocking Bird.

88 THE BRIDAL, &C.

By one poor streamlet sounds its tone.
And heard by one dear Maid alone.

VIII.

But, if thou bid'st, these tones shall tell.

Of errant knight and damozelle ;

Of the dread knot a Wizard tied.

In punishment of maiden's pride.

In notes of marvel and of fear.

That best may charm romantic ear.

For Lucy loves, — like Collins, ill-starr'd name !

Whose lay's requital was, that tardy Fame,

Who bound no laurel round his living head.

Should hang it o'er his monument when dead,—

For Lucy loves to tread enchanted strand.

And thread, like him, the maze of Fairy-land ;

Of golden battlements to view the gleam.

And slumber soft by some Elysian stream :

Such lays she loves, — and, such my Lucy's choice.

What other song can claim her Poet's voice ?

THE

BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN.

CANTO FIRST.

THE

BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN.

CANTO FIRST.

\t HERE is the maiden of mortal strain^
That may match with the Baron of Triermain ?
She must be lovely and constant and kind.
Holy and pure and humble of mind^
Blithe of cheer and gentle of mood^
Courteous and generous and noble of blood —
Lovely as the sun's first ray.
When it breaks the clouds of an April day ;
Constant and true as the widow'd dove.
Kind as a minstrel that sings of love ;
Pure as the fountain in rocky cave.
Where never sun-beam kiss'd the wave ;

92 THE BRIDAL Canio

Humble as maiden that loves in vain,

Holy as hermit's vesper strain ;

Gentle as breeze that but whispers and dies^

Yet blithe as the light leaves that dance in its sighs ;

Courteous as monarch the morn he is crown'd.

Generous as spring-devrs that bless the glad ground ;

Noble her blood as the currents that met

In the veins of the noblest Plantagenet —

Such must her form be^ her mood and her strain.

That shall match with Sir Eoland of Triermain.

Sir Roland de Vaux he hath laid him to sleep.
His blood it was fever'd, his breathing was deep.
He had been pricking against the Scot,
The foray was long and the skirmish hot ;
His dinted helm and his buckler's plight
Bore token of a stubborn fight.

All in the castle must hold them still.
Harpers must lull him to his rest.
With the slow soft tunes he loves the best.

Canto I. OF TRIERMAIN. 93

Till sleep sink down upon his breast^
Like the dew on a summer-hill.

III.

It was the dawn of an autumn day ;
The sun was struggling with frost-fog grey.
That like a silvery crape was spread
Round Skiddaw's dim and distant head.
And faintly gleam'd each painted pane
Of the lordly halls of Triermain,

When that Baron bold awoke.
Starting he woke, and loudly did call.
Rousing his menials in bower and hall.

While hastily he spoke.

IV.

" Harken, my minstrels ! W^hich of ye all
Touch'd his harp with that dying fall.

So sweet, so soft, so faint.
It seem'd an angel's whisper'd call

To an expiring saint ?

94 THE BRIDAL Canto I^

And barken, my merrymen ! What time or where
Did she pass, that maid with her heavenly brow.
With her look so sweet and her eyes so fair.
And her graceful step and her angel air.
And the eagle-plume in her dark-brown hair.
That pass'd from my bower e'en now ?'*—

V.

Answer'd him Richard de Brettville ; he
Was chief of the Baron's minstrelsy,—.
'' Silent, noble Chieftain, we

Have sate since midnight close.
When such lulling sounds as the brooklet sings,
Murmur'd from our melting strings.

And hush'd you to repose.
Had a harp-note sounded here.
It had caught my watchful ear.

Although it fell as faint and shy

As bashful maiden's half-form'd sigh.
When she thinks her lover near/'—
Answer'd Philip of Fasthwaite tall.
He kept guard in the outer hall,—

Canto I. OF TKIERMAIN. 95

" Since at eve our watch took post.
Not a foot has thy portal cross'd ;

Else had I heard the steps^ though low
And light they fell as when earth receives.
In morn of frost, the wither d leaves.

That drop when no winds blow/'—-

VI.

^^ Then come thou hither, Henry, my page.
Whom I saved from the sack of Hermitage,
When that dark castle, tower, and spire.
Rose to the skies a pile of fire.

And redden'd all the Nine-stane Hill,
And the shrieks of death, that wildly broke
Through devouring flame and smothering smoke.

Made the warrior's heart-blood chill !
The trustiest thou of all my train.
My fleetest courser thou must rein.

And ride to Lyulph's tower.
And from the Baron of Triermain

Greet well that Sage of power.

96 THE BRIDAL

He is sprung from Druid sires.

And British bards that tuned their lyres.

To Arthur's and Pendragon's praise.

And his who sleeps at Dunmailraise.

Gifted like his gifted race.

He the characters can trace.

Graven deep in elder time

Upon Helvellyn's cliffs sublime ;

Sign and sigil well doth he know.

And can bode of weal and woe.

Of kingdoms' fall, and fate of wars.

From mystic dreams and course of stars.

He shall tell if middle earth

To that enchanting shape gave birth.

Or if 'twas but an airy thing.

Such as fantastic slumbers bring.

Framed from the rainbow's varying dyes.

Or fading tints of western skies.

For, by the blessed rood I swear.

If that fair form breathe vital air.

Canto 1,

OF TRIERMAIN. 97

No other maiden by my side

Shall ever rest De Vaux's bride I"—-

VIL

The faithftd Page he mounts his steed^

And soon he cross'd green Irthing's mead,

Dash'd o'er Kirkoswald's verdant plain.

And Eden barr'd his course in vain.

He pass'd red Penrith's Table Round,

For feats of chivalry renown'd.

Left Mayburgh's mound and stones of power.

By druids raised in magic hour.

And traced the* Eamont's winding way.

Till Ulfo's lake beneath him lay.

VIII.

Onward he rode, the path- way still
Winding betwixt the lake and hill ;
Till on the fragment of a rock.
Struck from its base by lightning shock,

VOL. V. E

98 THE BRIDAL Canto L

He saw the hoary Sage :
The silver moss and lichen twined.
With fern and deer-hair check'd and lined,

A cushion fit for age ;
And o'er him shook the aspin tree,
A restless rustling canopy.
Then sprung young Henry from his selle.

And greeted LyuJph grave.
And then his master's tale did tell.

And then for counsel crave.
The Man of Years mused long and deep.
Of time's lost treasures taking keep,
And then, as rousing from a sleep,
. His solemn answer gave.

^^ That Maid is born of middle earth.

And may of man be won.
Though there have glided since her birth.

Five hundred years and one.

Canto /. OF TRIERMAIN. 99

But where's the Knight in all the north.
That dare the adventure follow forth.
So perilous to knightly worth.

In the Valley of St John ?
Listen, Youth, to what I tell.
And bind it on thy memory well ;
Nor muse that I commence the rhyme
Far distant mid the wrecks of time. /

The mystic tale, by bard and sage,
Is handed down from Merlin's age.

X.

King Arthur has ridden from merry Carlisle,

When Pentecost was o'er ;
He journey'd like errant knight the while.
And sweetly the summer sun did smile

On mountain, moss, and moor.
Above his solitary track
Rose Glaramara's ridgy back.

100 THE BRIDAL Canto I.

Amid whose yawning gulphs the sun

Cast umber'd radiance red and dun.

Though never sun-beam could discern

The surface of that sable tarn.

In whose black mirror you may spy

The stars, while noon- tide lights the sky*

The gallant King he skirted still

The margin of that mighty hill.

Rocks upon rocks incumbent hung.

And torrents, down the gullies flung,

Join'd the rude river that brawl'd on.

Recoiling now from crag and stone.

Now diving deep from human ken.

And raving down its darksome glen.

The Monarch judged this desert wild.

With such romantic ruin piled.

Was theatre by Nature's hand

For feat of high achievement planned.

Canto I. OF TRIERMAIN. 101

XL

O rather he chose^ that Monarch bold.

On vent'rous quest to ride.
In plate and mail, by wood and wold.
Than, with ermine trapp'd and cloth of gold,
* In princely bower to bide ;
The bursting crash of a foeman's spear.

As it shiver'd against his mail.
Was merrier music to his ear

Than courtier s whisper'd tale ;
And the clash of Caliburn more dear.
When on the hostile casque it rung.
Than all the lays
To their Monarch's praise
That the harpers of Reged sung.
He loved better to rest by wood or river.
Than in bower of his bride. Dame Guenever ;
For he left that lady so lovely of cheer.
To follow adventures of danger and fear ;

102 THE BRIDAL

Canto I,

And the frank-hearted Monarch ftdl little did wot^
That she smiled^ in his absence^ on brave Lancelot.

XII.
He rode, till over down and dell
The shade more broad and deeper fell ;
And though around the mountain's head
Flow'd streams of purple, and gold, and red.
Dark at the base, unblest by beam,
Frown'd the black rocks, and roar'd the stream.
With toil the King his way pursued
By lonely Threlkeld's waste and wood.
Till on his course obliquely shone
The narrow valley of Saint John,
Down sloping to the western sky, ^

Where lingering sun-beams love to lie.
Right glad to feel those beams again.
The King drew up his charger's rein ;
With gauntlet raised he screened his sight.
As dazzled with the level light.

Canto I. OF TRIERMAIN. 103

And, from beneath his glove of mail,
Scann'd at his ease the lovely vaJe,
While 'gainst the sun his armour bright
Gleam'd ruddy like the beacon's light.

XIII.
Paled in by many a lofty hill.
The narrow dale lay smooth and still.
And, down its verdant bosom led,
A winding brooklet found its bed.
But, midmost of the vale, a mound
Arose, with airy turrets crown'd.
Buttress and rampire's circling bound.

And mighty keep and tower ;
Seem'd some primeval giant's hand
The castle's massive walls had plann'd,
A pondrous bulwark to withstand

Ambitious Nimrod's power.
Above the moated entrance slung.
The balanced draw-bridge trembling hung.

104 THE BRIDAL Canto J,

As jealous of a foe ;
Wicket of oak^ as iron hard.
With iron studded, clenched, and barr'd.
And prong'd portcullis, join'd to guard

The gloomy pass below.
But the grey walls no banners crown'dj,
Upon the watch-tower's airy round
No warder stood his horn to sound.
No guard beside the bridge was found.
And, where the gothic gateway frown'd.

Glanced neither bill nor bow.

XIV.

Beneath the castle's gloomy pride.

In ample round did Arthur ride

Three times ; nor living thing he spied.

Nor heard a living sound.
Save that, awakening from her dream.
The owlet now began to scream.
In concert with the rushing stream.

Canto 1 OF TRIERMAIN. 105

That wash'd the battled mound.
He lighted from his goodly steed^
And he left him to graze on bank and mead ;
And slowly he climb'd the narrow way.
That reached the entrance grim and grey>
And he stood the outward arch below.
And his bugle horn prepared to blow.

In summons blithe and bold.
Deeming to rouse from iron sleep
The guardian of this dismal Keep ;

Which well he guess'd the hold
Of wizard stern, or goblin grim.
Or pagan of gigantic limb.

The tyrant of the wold.

XV,

The ivory bugle's golden tip

Twice touch'd the Monarch's manly lip.

And twice his hand withdrew.
— Think not but Arthur's heart was good !

E 2

106 THE BRIDAL Canto I.

His shield was cross'd by the blessed rood.
Had a pagan host before him stood.

He had charged them through and through ;
Yet the silence of that ancient place
Sunk on his heart, and he paused a space

Ere yet his horn he blew.
But, instant as its larum rung.
The castle-gate was open flung.
Portcullis rose with crashing groan
Full harshly up its groove of stone.
The balance-beams obey'd the blast.
And down the trembling draw-bridge cast^
The vaulted arch before him lay.
With nought to bar the gloomy way ;
And onward Arthur paced, with hand
On Caliburn's resistless brand.

XVL

A hundred torches, flashing bright,
Dispeird at once the gloomy night

Canto I. OF TEIERMAIJJ.- 107

That lour'd along the walls.
And shewed the King's astonish'd sight

The inmates of the halls.
Nor wizard stern^ nor goblin grim.
Nor giant huge of form and limb.

Nor heathen knight was there ;
But the cressets, which odours flung aloft,
Shew'd, by their yellow light and soft,

A band of damsels fair.
Onward they came, like summer wave

That dances to the shore ;
An hundred voices welcome gave.

And welcome o'er and o'er !
An hundred lovely hands assail
The bucklers of the Monarch's mail.
And busy labour'd to imhasp
Rivet of steel and iron clasp.
One wrapp'd him in a mantle fair.
And one flung odours on his hair ;
His short curl'd ringlets one smooth'd down,
One wreath'd them with a myrtle crown.

108 THE BRIDAL Canto I.

A bride;, upon her wedding day^
Was tended ne'er by troop so gay.

XVII.

Loud laugh'd they all^ — the King^ in vain.
With questions tasFd the giddy train ;
Let him entreat, or crave, or call,
'Twas one reply, — rloud laugh'd they all.
Then o'er him mimic chains they fling.
Framed of the fairest flowers of spring.
While some their gentle force unite^
Onward to drag the wondering knight.
Some, bolder, urge his pace with blows.
Dealt with the lily or the rose.
Behind him were in triumph borne
The warlike arms he late had worn.
Four of the train combined to rear
I The terrors of Tintadgel's spear ;

Two, laughing at their lack of strength.
Dragged Caliburn in cumbrous length ;

Canto I. OF TIIIERMAIN. 109

One^ while she aped a martial stride.
Placed on her brows the helmet's pride.
Then scream'd, 'twixt laughter and surprise.
To feel its depth overwhelm her eyes.
With revel-shout, and triumph-song.
Thus gaily march'd the giddy throng.

XVIII.

Through many a gallery and hall
They led, I ween, their royal thrall ;
At length, beneath a fair arcade.
Their march and song at once they staid.
The eldest maiden of the band,

(The lovely maid was scarce eighteen,)
Raised, with imposing air, her hand.
And reverent silence did command.

On entrance of their Queen ;
And they were mute. — But as a glance
They steal on Arthur's countenance

Bewilder'd with surprise.

110 THE BRIDAL Canto I.

Their smother'd mirth again 'gan speak.
In archly dimpled chin and cheek.
And laughter-lighted eyes.

XIX.

The attributes of those high days
Now only live in minstrel lays ;
For Nature, now exhausted, still
Was then profuse of good and ill.
Strength was gigantic, valour high.
And wisdom soar'd beyond the sky ;
And beauty had such matchless beam.
As lights not now a lover's dream.
Yet e'en in that romantic age.

Ne'er were such charms by mortal seen
As Arthur's dazzled eyes engage.
When forth on that enchanted stage.
With glittering train of maid and page.

Advanced the castle's Queen !

Canto I. OF TRIERMAIN. Ill

While lip the hall she slowly pass'd,
Her dark eye on the King she cast.

That flash'd expression strong ;
The longer dwelt that lingering look.
Her cheek the livelier colour took.
And scarce the shame-faced King could brook

The gaze that lasted long.
A sage, who had that look espied.
Where kindling passion strove with pride.

Had whisper'd, '^ Prince, beware !
From the chafed tyger rend the prey.
Rush on the lion when at bay.
Bar the fell dragon's blighted way.

But shun that lovely snare 1" —

XX.

At once, that inward strife suppressed.
The dame approach'd her warlike guest.
With greeting in that fair degree.
Where female pride and courtesy

112 THE BRIDAL ^ Canto I,

Are blended with such passing art
As awes at once and charms the heart.
A courtly welcome first she gave^
Then of his goodness 'gan to crave

Construction fair and true
Of her light maidens' idle mirth.
Who drew from lonely glens their birth.
Nor knew to pay to stranger worth

And dignity their due ;
And then she pray'd that he would rest
That night her castle's honour'd guest.
The Monarch meetly thanks express'd ;
The banquet rose at her behest.
With lay and tale, and laugh and jest.

Apace the evening flew.

XXL

The lady sate the Monarch by.
Now in her turn abash'd and shy.

Canto I, OF TRIERMAIN. 113

And with indifference seem'd to hear
The toys he whisper'd in her ear.
Her bearing modest was and fair.
Yet shadows of constraint were there.
That shewed an over-cautious care

Some inward thought to hide ;
Oft did she pause in full reply.
And oft cast down her large dark eye.
Oft check the soft voluptuous sigh.

That heaved her bosom's pride.
Slight symptoms these ; but shepherds know
How hot the mid-day sun shall glow.

From the mist of morning sky ;
And so the wily monarch guess'd.
That this assumed restraint expressed
More ardent passions in the breast.

Than ventured to the eye.
Closer he pressed, while beakers rang.
While maidens laugh'd and minstrels sang,

Still closer to her ear— ^

114 THE BRIDAL, &C. Canto I .

But why pursue the common tale ?
Or wherefore shew how knights prevail

When ladies dare to hear ?
Or wherefore trace, from what slight cause
Its source one tyrant passion draws.

Till, mastering all within.
Where lives the man that has not tried.
How mirth can into folly glide.
And folly into sin !

END OF CANTO FIRST.

THE

BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN.

CANTO SECOND.

THE

BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN.

CANTO SECOND.

Another day, another day.
And yet another glides away !
The Saxon stern, the pagan Dane,
Maa*aud on Britain's shores again.
Arthur, of Christendom the flower.
Lies loitering in a lady's bower ;
The horn, that foemen wont to fear.
Sounds but to wake the Cumbrian deer.

118 THE BRIDAL Canto II,

And Caliburn^ the British pride.
Hangs useless by a lover's side.

XL

Another day;, another day.
And yet another^ glides away.
Heroic plans in pleasure drown'd.
He thinks not of the Table Round ;
In lawless love dissolved his life.
He thinks not of his beauteous wife ;
Better he loves to snatch a flower
From bosom of his paramour.
Than from a Saxon knight to wrest
The honours of his heathen crest ;
Better to wreathe, 'mid tresses brown.
The heron's plume her hawk struck down.
Than o'er the altar give to flow
The banners of a Paynim foe.
Thus, week by week, and day by day.
His life inglorious glides away ;

Canto IL OF TRIERMAIN. 119

But she, that sooths his dream, with fear
Beholds his hour of waking near.

III.

Much force have mortal charms to stay
Our pace in Virtue's toilsome way ;
But Guendolen's might far outshine
Each maid of merely mortal line.
Her mother was of human birth.
Her sire a Genie of the earth.
In days of old deem'd to preside
O'er lovers' wiles and beauty's pride.
By youths and virgins worshipp'd long
With festive dance and choral son.
Till, when the Cross to Britain came.
On heathen altars died the flame.
Now, deep in Wastdale's solitude,
The downfall of his rights he rued.
And, born of his resentment heir.
He train'd to guile that lady fair.

120 THE BRIDAL Canto 11.

To sink in slothful sin and shame
The champions of the Christian name.
Well-skiird to keep vain thoughts alive^
And all to promise^, nought to give^
The timid youth had hope in store.
The bold and pressing gain'd no more.
As wilder'd children leave their home.
After the rainbow's arch to roam.
Her lovers bartered fair esteem.
Faith, fame, and honour, for a dream.

IV.

Her sire's soft arts the soul to tame
She practised thus — ^till Arthur came ;
Then, frail humanity had part.
And aU the mother claim'd her heart.
Forgot each rule her father gave.
Sunk from a princess to a slave.
Too late must Guendolen deplore.
He, that has all, can hope no more !

Canto IIL OF TRIERMAIN. 121

Now^, must she see her lover strain^
At every turn, her feeble chain ;
Watch, to new-bind each knot, and shrink
To view each fast-decaying link.
Art she invokes to Nature's aid.
Her vest to zone, her locks to braid ;
Each varied pleasure heard her call.
The feast, the tourney, and the ball ;
Her storied lore she next applies.
Taxing her mind to aid her eyes ;
Now more than mortal wise, and then
In female softness sunk again ;
Now, raptured, with each wish complying,
With feign d reluctance now denying ;
Each charm she varied, to retain
A varying heart — and all in vain \

V.

Thus in the garden's narrow bound,
Flank'd by some castle's Gothic round,

VOL. V. F

1^2 THE BRIDAL

Fain would the artist's skill provide.
The limits of his realm to hide*
The walks in labyrinths he twines^
Shade after shade with skill combine^;?
With many a varied flowery knot.
And copse and arbour deck the spot.
Tempting the hasty foot to stay.

And linger on the lovely way

Vain art ! vain hope ! 'tis fruitless all !
At length we reach the bounding wall.
And, sick of flower and trim-dress'd tree>
Long for rough glades and forest free.

VI.

Three summer months had scantly flown.
When Arthur in embarrassed tone.
Spoke of his liegemen and his throne ;
Said, all too long had been his stay.
And duties, which a monarch sway.

Canto IL OF TRIERMAIN. 123

Duties unloiown to humbler men.
Must tear her knight from Guendolen.—
She Ksten'd silently the while.
Her mood expressed in bitter smile ;
iBeneath her eye must Arthur quail.
And oft resume the unfiiiish'd tale.
Confessing, by his downcast eye.
The wrong he sought to justify.
He ceased. A moment mute she gazed.
And then her looks to heaven she raised ;
One palm her temples veil'd, to hidd
The tear that sprung in spite of pride ;
The other for an instant press'd
The foldings of her silken vest !

VII.

At her reproachful sign and look.
The hint the Monarch's conscience took.
Eager he spoke — '^ No, lady, no !
Deem not of British Arthur so.

IS'i THE BRIDAL Canto 11.

Nor think lie can deserter prove

To the dear pledge of mutual love.

I swear by sceptre and by sword.

As belted knight and Britain's lord.

That if a boy shall claim my care.

That boy is born a kingdom's heir :

But, if a maiden Fate allows.

To chuse that maid a fitting spouse,

A summer day in lists shall strive

My knights, — -the bravest knights alive,—

And he, the best and bravest tried.

Shall Arthur's daughter claim for bride."——

He spoke, with voice resolved and high-—

The lady deign'd him not reply.

VIII.

At dawn of morn, ere on the brake
His matins did a warbler make.
Or stirr'd his wing to brush away
A single dew-drop from the spray.

Canto II. OF TRIERMAIN. 125

Ere yet a sun-beam, through the mist.
The castle battlements had kiss'd.
The gates revolve, the draw-bridge falls.
And Arthur sallies from the walls,
Doff'd his soft garb of Persia's loom.
And steel from spur to helmet-plume.
His Lybian steed full proudly trod6.
And joyful neigVd beneath his load.
The Monarch gave a passing sigh
To penitence and pleasures by.
When, lo ! to his astonished ken
Appeared the form of Guendolen.

IX.

Beyond the outmost wall she stood.
Attired like huntress of the wood :
Sandall'd her feet, her ancles bare.
And eagle plumage deck'd her hair ;
Firm was her look, her bearing bold.
And in her hand a cup of gold.

126 THE BRIDAL Canto II.

" Thou goest V* she said^ '' and ne'er again

Must we two meet^ in joy or pain.

Full fain would I this hour delay.

Though weak the wish — ^yet, wilt thou stay ?

No ! thou look'st forward. Still attend,-—

Part we like lover and like friend."

She raised the cup— ^^ Not this the juice

The sluggish vines of earth produce ;

Pledge we, at parting, in the draught

Which Genii love !" — she said and quaff'd ;

And strange unwonted lustres fly

From her flush'd cheek and sparkling eye.

X.

The courteous Monarch bent him low.
And, stooping down from saddle-bow.
Lifted the cup, in act to drink.
A drop escaped the goblet's brink-
Intense as liquid fire from hell.
Upon the charger's neck it fell.

Canio II* OF TRIEEMAIN. 127

Screaming with agony and fright.
He bolted twenty feet upright —
—The peasant still can shew the dint.
Where his hoofs lighted on the flint.
From Arthur's hand the goblet flew.
Scattering a shower of fiery dew.
That burn'd and blighted where it fell !
The frantic steed rush'd up the dell.
As whistles from the bow the reed ;
Nor bit nor rein could check his speed

Until he gain'd the hill ;
Then breath and sinew fail'd apace.
And, reeling from the desperate rax5e.

He stood exhausted, still.
The Monarch, breathless and amazed,

Back on the fatal castle gazed

Nor tower nor donjon could he spy.
Darkening against the morning sky ;
But, on the spot where once they frown'd.
The lonely streamlet brawl'd around

128 THE BRIDAL Canto II.

A tufted knOU^ where dimly shone
Fragments of rock and rifted stone.
Musing on this strange hap the while.
The King wends back to fair Carlisle ;
And cares, that cumber royal sway.
Wore memory of the past away.

XI.

Full fifteen years, and more, were sped.

Each brought new wreaths to Arthur's head.

Twelve bloody fields, with glory fought.

The Saxons to subjection brought ;

Rython, the mighty giant, slain

By his good brand, relieved Bretagne ;

The Pictish Gillamore in fight.

And Roman Lucius, own'd his might ;

And wide were through the world renown'd

The glories of his Table Round.

Each knight, who sought adventurous fame^

To the bold court of Britain came.

Canto II. OF TRIERMAIN. 129

And all who suffered causeless wrong.
From tyrant proud or faitour strong.
Sought Arthur's presence to complain.
Nor there for aid implored in vain.

XII.
For this the King, with pomp and pride.
Held solemn court at Whitsuntide,

And summoned Prince and Peer,
All who owed homage for their land.
Or who craved knighthood from his hand.
Or who had succour to demand.

To come from far and near*
At such high tide, were glee and game
Mingled with feats of martial fame.
For many a stranger champion came

In lists to break a spear ;

And not a knight of Arthur's host.

Save that he trod some foreign coast.

But at this feast of Pentecost

Before him must appear.
F 2

130 THE BRIDAL Canto IL

Ah, Miustrels ! when the Table Round
Arose, with all its warriors crown'd.
There was a theme for bards to sound

In triumph to their string !
Five hundred years are past and gone.
But Time shall draw his dying groan.
Ere he behold the British throne

Begirt with such a ring !

«

XIII.

The heralds named the appointed spot.
As Caerleon or Camelot,

Or Carlisle fair and free.
At Penrith, now, the feast was set.
And in fair Eamont's vale were met

The flower of chivalry.
There Galaad sate with manly grace.
Yet maiden meekness in his face ;
There Morolt of the iron mace.

And love-lorn Tristrem there ;

Canto IL OF TRIEEMAIN. 131

And DInadam with lively glance.
And Lanval with the fairy lance.
And Mordred with his look askaunce,

Brunor and Bevidere.
Why should I tell of numbers more ?
Sir Cay, Sir Banier, and Sir Bore,

Sir Carodac the keen, .
The gentle Gawain's courteous lore.
Hector de Mares and Pellinore,
And Lancelot, that ever more

Look'd stol'n-wise on the Queen.

XIV.
When wine and mirth did most abound.
And harpers play'd their blithest round,
A shrilly trumpet shook the ground.

And marshals cleared the ring ;
A Maiden, on a palfrey white.
Heading a band of damsels bright.
Paced through the circle, to alight

And kneel before the King.

132 THE BRIDAL Canto IL

Arthur, with strong emotion, saw
Her graceful boldness check'd by awe.
Her dress like huntress of the wold.
Her bow and baldrick trapp'd with gold.
Her sandaird feet, her ancles bare.
And the eagle plume that deck'd her hair.
Graceful her veil she backwards flung
The King, as from his seat he sprung.

Almost cried, " Guendolen !"
But 'twas a face more frank and wild.
Betwixt the woman and the child.
Where less of magic beauty smiled

Than of the race of men ;
And in the forehead's haughty grace.
The lines of Britain's royal race,

Pendragon's, you might ken.

XV.

Faultering, yet gracefully, she said—
^^ Great Prince ! behold an orphan maid,

Canto IL OF TRIERMAIN. 133

In her departed mother's name,
A father's vow'd protection claim !
The vow was sworn in desert lone.
In the deep valley of St John."—
At once the King the suppliant raised.
And kiss'd her brow, her beauty praised ;
His vow, he said, should well be kept.
Ere in the sea the sun was dipped, —
Then, conscious, glanced upon his queen :
But she, unruffled at the scene.
Of human frailty construed mild.
Looked upon Lancelot, and smiled.

XVI.

^^ Up ! up ! each knight of gallant crest !

Take buckler, spear, and brand !
He that to-day shall bear him best.

Shall win my GynetVs hand.
And Arthur's daughter, when a bride.

Shall bring a noble dower ;

134 THE BRIDAL Canto II.

Both fair Strath-Clyde and Reged wide.

And Carlisle town and tower."—*
Then might you hear each valiant knight.

To page and squire that cried,
" Bring my armour bright, and my courser wight !
'Tis not each day that a warrior's might

May win a royal bride." — -
Then cloaks and caps of maintenance

In haste aside they fling ;
The helmets glance, and gleams the lance.

And the steel-weaved hauberks ring.
Small care had they of their peaceful array.

They might gather it that wolde ;
For brake and bramble glitter'd gay.

With pearls and cloth of gold.

XVII.

Within trumpet sound of the Table Round

Were fifty champions free.
And they all arise to fight that prize,—

They all arise, but three.

Cmto II. OF TRIERMAIN. 135

Nor love's fond troth^ nor wedlock's oath^

One gallant could withhold.
For priests will allow of a broken vow.

For penance or for gold.
But sigh and glance from ladies bright

Among the troop were thrown.
To plead their right, and true-love plight.

And plain of honour flown.
The knights they busied them so fast.

With buckling spur and belt.
That sigh and look by ladies cast.

Were neither seen nor felt.
From pleading, or upbraiding glance.

Each gallant turns aside.
And only thought, " If speeds my lance,

A queen becomes my bride 1
She has fair Strath-Clyde, and Reged wide.

And Carlisle tower and town ;
She is the loveliest maid^ beside.

That ever heir'd a crown.**—

136 THE BRIDAL Canto II,

So in haste their coursers they bestride^,
And strike their visors down.

XVIII.

The champions^ arm'd in martial sort.,

Have throng'd into the list.
And but three knights of Arthur's court

Are from the tourney miss'd.
And still these lovers' fame survives

For faith so constant shown,—
There were two who loved their neighbours' wives.

And one who loved his own.
The first was Lancelot de Lac,

The second Tristrem bold.
The third was valiant Carodac,

Who won the cup of gold.
What time, of all King Arthur's crew,

(Thereof came jeer and laugh,)
He, as the mate of lady true.

Alone the cup could quaff.

Caivto II. OF TRIERMAIN. 137

Though envy's tongue would fain surmise^,

That^ but for very shame.
Sir Carodac, to fight that prize.

Had given both cup and dame ;
Yet, since but one of that fair court

Was true to wedlock's shrine.
Brand him who will with base report,— *

He shall be free from mine.

XIX.

Now caracol'd the steeds in air.
Now plumes and pennons wanton*d fair.
As all around the lists so wide
In panoply the champions ride.
King Arthur saw, with startled eye^
The flower of chivalry march by.
The bulwark of the Christian creed.
The kingdom's shield in hour of need.
Too late he thought him of the woe
Might from their civil conflict flow :

138 THE BRIDAL Canto II.

For well he knew they would not part
Till cold was many a gallant heart.
His hasty vow he 'gan to rue.
And Gyneth then apart he drew ;
To her his leading-staff resigned.
But added caution grave and kind.

XX.

'^ Thou see'st, my child, as promise-bound>

I bid the trump for tourney sound.

Take thou my warder, as the queen

And umpire of the martial scene ;

But mark thou this : — as Beauty bright

Is polar star to valiant knight,

As at her word his sword he draws.

His fairest guerdon her applause.

So gentle maid should never ask

Of knighthood vain and dangerous task ;

And Beauty's eye should ever be

Like the twin stars that sooth the sea.

Canto IL

OF TRIERMAIN. 139

And Beauty's breath should whisper peace.
And bid the storm of battle cease.
I tell thee this, lest all too far
These knights urge tourney into war.
Blithe at the trumpet let them go.
And fairly counter blow for blow ;—
No striplings these, who succour need
For a razed helm or falling steed.
But, Gyneth, when the strife grows warm.
And threatens death or deadly harm.
Thy sire entreats, thy king commands,^
Thou drop the warder from thy hands.
Trust thou thy father with thy fate.
Doubt not he chuse thee fitting mate ;
Nor be it said, through Gyneth's pride
A rose of Arthur's chaplet died."— ^

XXI.

A proud and discontented glow
O'ershadow'd Gyneth's brow of snow ;
She put the warder by :—

140 THE BRIDAL Canto II,

" Reserve thy boon^ my liege/' she said,
^^ Thus chaffer'd down and limited,
Debased and narrow'd, for a maid

Of less degree than I.
No petty chief, but holds his heir
At a more honoured price and rare

Than Britain's king holds me ;
Although the sim-burn'd maid, for dower.
Has but her father's rugged tower.

His barren hill and lee.
King Arthur swore, ^ by crown and sword,
' As belted knight, and Britain's lord,
^ That a whole summer's day should strive
^ His knights, the bravest knights alive !'
Recall thine oath ! and to her glen
Poor Gyneth can return agen ;
Not on thy daughter will the stain.
That soils thy sword and crown, remain.
But think not she will e'er be bride
Save to the bravest, proved and tried ;

Cg>nto II. OF TRIERMAIN. 141

Pendragon's daughter will not fear
For clashing sword or splinter'd spear.

Nor shrink though blood should flow ;
And all too well sad Guendolen
Hath taught the faithlessness of men.
That child of hers should pity, when

Their meed they undergo/'-—

XXII.

He frown'd and sigh'd, the Monarch bold :— .
^^ I give — ^what I may not withhold ;
For, not for danger, dread, or death.
Must British Arthur break his faith.
Too late I mark, thy mother's art
Hath taught thee this relentless part.
I blame her not, for she had wrong,
But not to these my faults belong.
Use, then, the warder as thou wilt ;
But trust me, that, if life be spilt.

142 THE BRIDAL Canto II.

Ill Arthur's love^ in Arthur's grace,
Gyneth shall lose a daughter's place."—
With that he turn'd his head aside.
Nor brook'd to gaze upon her pride,
As, with the truncheon raised, she sate
The arbitress of mortal fate ;
Nor brook'd to mark, in ranks disposed.
How the bold champions stood opposed ;
For shrill the trumpet-flourish fell
Upon his ear like passing-bell !
Then first from sight of martial fray
Did Britain's hero turn away.

xxiii.

But Gyneth heard the clangour high.
As hears the hawk the partridge-cry.
Oh ! blame her not ! the blood was hers.
That at the trumpet's summons stirs !—
And e'en the gentlest female eye
Might the brave strife of chivalry
Awhile untroubled view ;

Canto IL OF TRIERMAIN. 143

So well accomplisli'd was each knight.
To strike and to defend in fight.
Their meeting was a goodly sight.

While plate and mail held true.
The lists with painted plumes were strown.
Upon the wind at random thrown,
[ But helm and breast-plate bloodless shone ;
It seem'd their feather'd crests alone

Should this encounter rue.
And ever, as the combat grows,
The trumpet's cheery voice arose.
Like lark's shrill song the flourish flows.
Heard while the gale of April blows

The merry greenwood through.

XXIV.

But soon to earnest grew their game.
The spears drew blood, the swords struck flame.
And, horse and man, to ground there came
Knights, who shall rise no more !

144 THE BEIDAL Canto II.

Gone was the pride the war that graced.
Gay shields were cleft, and crests defaced.
And steel coats riven, and helms unbraced.

And pennons streamed with gore.
Gone, too, were fence and fair array.
And desperate strength made deadly way
At random through the bloody fray.
And blows were dealt with headlong sway.

Unheeding where they fell ;
And now the trumpet's clamours seem
Like the shrill sea-bird's wailing scream.
Heard o'er the whirlpool's gulphing stream.

The sinking seaman's knell !

XXV.

Seem'd in this dismal hour, that Fate
Would Camlan's ruin antedate.

And spare dark Mordred's crime ;
Already gasping on the ground
Lie twenty of the Table Round,

Of chivalry the prime.
9

Canto IL OF TRIERMAIN. 145

Arthur, in anguish, tore away

From head and beard his tresses grey.

And she, proud Gyneth, felt dismay.

And quaked with ruth and fear ;
But still she deem'd her mother's shade
Himg o'er the tumult, and forbade
The sign that had the slaughter staid.

And chid the rising tear.
Then Brunor, Taulas, Mador, fell,
Helias the White, and Lionel,

And many a champion more ;
Rochemont and Dinadam are down.
And Ferrand of the Forest Brown

Lies gasping in his gore.
Vanoc, by mighty Morolt press'd
Even to the confines of the list.
Young Vanoc of the beardless face,
(Fame spoke the youth of Merlin's race,)
O'erpower'd at Gyneth's footstool bled.
His heart's blood dyed her sandals red.

VOL. V. G

146 THE BRIDAL Canto II.

But then the sky was overcast.

Then howl'd at once a whirlwind's blast.

And, rent by sudden throes,
Yawn'd in mid lists the quaking earth.
And from the gulph, — tremendous birth !

The form of Merlin rose.

XXVI.

Sternly the wizard prophet eyed ^

The dreary lists with slaughter dyed.
And sternly raised his hand :— '

^^ Madmen," he said, " your strife forbear !

And thou, fair cause of mischief, hear
The doom thy fates demand !
Long shall close in stony sleep
Eyes for ruth that would not weep ;
Iron lethargy shall seal
Heart that pity scorn'd to feel.
Yet, because thy mother's art
Warp'd thine unsuspicious heart.

Canto 11. OF TRIERMAIN. 147

And for love of Arthur's race.
Punishment is blent with grace.
Thou shalt bear thy penance lone.
In the Valley of Saint John,
And this weird* shall overtake thee ;
Sleep, until a Knight shall wake thee.
For feats of arms as far renown'd
As warrior of the Table Round.
Long endurance of thy slumber
Well may teach the world to number
All their woes from Gyneth's pride.
When the Red Cross champions died." —

XXVII.

As Merlin speaks, on Gyneth's eye
Slumber's load begins to lie ;
Fear and Anger vainly strive
Still to keep its light alive.
Twice, with effort and with pause.
O'er her brow her hand she draws ;

* Doom.

148 THE BRIDAL Canto IL

Twice her strength in vain she tries.
From the fatal chair to rise ;
Merlin's magic doom is spoken,
Vanoc's death must now be wroken.
Slow the dark-fringed eye-lids fall,
Curtaining each azure ball.
Slowly as on summer eves
Violets fold their dusky leaves.
The weighty baton of command
Now bears down her sinking hand.
On her shoulder droops her head ;
Net of pearl and golden thread.
Bursting, gave her locks to flow
O'er her arm and breast of snow.
And so lovely seem'd she there.
Spell-bound in her ivory chair.
That her angry sire, repenting.
Craved stern Merlin for relenting.
And the champions, for her sake.
Would again the contest wake ;

Canto IL OF TRIEKMAIN. 149

Till, in necromantic night,
Gyneth vanished from their sight.

XXVIII.

Still she bears her weird alone.
In the Valley of Saint John ;
And her semblance oft will seem
Mingling in a champion's dream.
Of her weary lot to plain.
And crave his aid to burst her chain.
While her wondrous tale was new.
Warriors to her rescue drew.
East and west, and south and north.
From the Liffey, Thames, and Forth.
Most have sought in vain the glen.
Tower nor castle could they ken ;
Not at every time or tide.
Nor by every eye, descried.
Fast and vigil must be borne.
Many a night in watching worn.

150 THE BRIDAL

Ere an eye of mortal powers
Can discern those magic towers.
Of the persevering few^
Some from hopeless task withdrew;,
When they read the dismal threat
Graved upon the gloomy gate.
Few have braved the yawning door^
And those few returned no more.
In the lapse of time forgot^,
Well nigh lost is Gyneth's lot ;
Sound her sleep as in the tomb^
Till waken'd by the trump of doom.

END OF LYULPh's TALE.

Here pause, my tale ; for all too soouj
My Lucy, comes the hour of noon.
Already from thy lofty dome
Its courtly inmates 'gin to roam.

Canto I L OF TRIEllMAIN. 151

And each^ to kill the goodly day

That God has granted them, his way
Of lazy sauntering has sought ;

Lordlings and witlings not a few.
Incapable of doing aught^
Yet ill at ease with nought to do.

Here is no longer place for me ;

For, Lucy, thou would'st blush to see
Some phantom, fashionably thin.
With limb of lath and kerchiefed chin.
And lounging gape, or sneering grin.

Steal sudden on our privacy.

And how should I, so humbly born.

Endure the graceful spectre's sconi ?

Faith ! ill I fear, while conjuring wand

Of English oak is hard at hand.

II.

Or grant the hour be all too soon
For Hessian boot and pantaloon.

152 THE BRIDAL Canto II.

And grant the lounger seldom strays
Beyond the smooth and gravell'd maze.
Laud we the gods, that Fashion's train
Holds hearts of more adventurous strain.
Artists are hers, who scorn to trace
Their rules from Nature's boundless grace.
But their right paramount assert
To limit her by pedant art.
Damning whatever of vast and fair
Exceeds a canvass three feet square.
This thicket, for their gumption fit.
May furnish such a happy bit.
Bards, too, are hers, wont to recite
Their own sweet lays by waxen light.
Half in the salver's tinkle drown'd.
While the chasse-cafFe glides around ;
And such may hither secret stray.
To labour an extempore :
Or sportsman, with his boisterous hollo.
May here his wiser spaniel follow.

Canto II. OF TRIEEMAIN. 153

Or stage-struck Juliet may presume
To choose this bower for tyring room ;
And we alike must shun regard.
From painter, player, sportsman, bard.
Insects that skim in Fashion's sky.
Wasp, blue-bottle, or butterfly,
Lucy, have all alarms for us.
For all can hum and all can buz.

III.
But oh, my Lucy, say how long
We still must dread this trifling throng.
And stoop to hide, with coward art.
The genuine feelings of the heart !
No parents thine, whose just command
Should rule their child's obedient hand ;
Thy guardians, with contending Toice,
Press each his Individual choice.
And which is Lucy's .'* — Can it be
That puny fop, trimm'd cap-a-pee,

G 2

154 THE BRIDAL Canto I L

Who loves in the saloon to show
The arms that never knew a foe ;
Whose sabre trails along the ground^,
Whose legs in shapeless boots are drown'd ;
A new Achilles^ sure^ — the steel
Fled from his breast to fence his heel ;
One^ for the simple manly grace
That wont to deck our martial race^
Who comes in foreign trashery

Of tinkling chain and spur,
A walking haberdashery.

Of feathers, lace, and fur :
In Rowley's antiquated phrase.
Horse-milliner * of modern days.

* " The trammels of the palfraye pleased his sight,
And the horse-millanere his head with roses dight."

Rowley's Ballads of ChaHtie,

Canto //. OF TRIERMAIN. 155

IV.

Or is it he, the wordy youth.
So early trained for statesman's part.

Who talks of honour, faith, and truth.
As themes that he has got by heart ;

Whose ethics Chesterfield can teach.

Whose logic is from Single-speech ;

Who scorns the meanest thought to vent.

Save in the phrase of Parliament ;

Who, in a tale of cat and mouse.

Calls ^^ order," and ^ divides the house ;"

Who " craves permission to reply,"

Whose ^^ noble friend is in his eye ;"

Whose loving tender some have reckoned

A moiion^ you should gladly second ?

V.

What, neither ? Can there be a third.
To such resistless swains preferred ?— »

156 THE BRIDAL

Canto II.

O why^ my Lucy, turn aside.
With that quick glance of injured pride ?
Forgive me, love, I cannot bear
That alter'd and resentful air.
Were all the wealth of Russel mine.
And all the rank of Howard's line.
All would I give for leave to dry
That dew-drop trembling in thine eye.
Think not I fear such fops can wile
From Lucy more than careless smile ;
But yet if wealth and high degree
Give gilded counters currency.
Must I not fear, when rank and birth
Stamp the pure ore of genuine worth ?
Nobles there are, whose martial fires
Rival the fame that raised their sires.
And patriots, skill'd through storms of fate
To guide and guard the reeling state.
Such, such there are — if such should come,
Arthur must tremble and be dumb.

Canto IL OF TEIERMAIN. 157

Self-exiled seek some distant shore.
And mourn till life and grief are o'er.

VI.

What sight, what signal of alarm.
That Lucy clings to Arthur's arm ?
Or is it that the rugged way
Makes Beauty lean on lover's stay ?
Oh, no ! for on the vale and brake.
Nor sight nor sounds of danger wake.
And this trim sward of velvet green
Were carpet for the fairy queen.
That pressure slight was but to t«ll.
That Lucy loves her Arthur well.
And fain would banish from his mind
Suspicious fear and doubt unkind.

VIL

But would'st thou bid the demons fly.
Like mist before the dawning sky.

158 ' THE BEIDAL Canto IT.

There is but one resistless spell-
Say^ wilt thou gue^s^ or must I tell ?
'Twere hard to name in minstrel phrase,
A laundaulet and four blood-bayS;,
But bards agree this wizard band
Can but be bound in Northern Land.
'Tis there — nay, draw not back thy hand ! —
'Tis there this slender finger round
Must golden amulet be bound.
Which, bless'd with many a holy prayer.
Can change to rapture lovers' care.
And doubt and jealousy shall die.
And fears give place to ecstacy.

VIII.

Now, trust me, Lucy, all too long
Has been thy lover's tale and song.
O why so silent, love, I pray ?
Have I not spoke the livelong day ?
And will not Lucy deign to say

Canto 11, OF TRIERMAIN. 159

One word her friend to bless ?
I ask but one-~a simple sound.
Within three little letters bound,

O let the word be YES !

END OF CANTO SECOND.

THE

BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN.

CANTO THIRD.

THE

BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN

CANTO THIRD.

INTRODUCTION.

Long loved, long woo'd, and lately won.
My life's best hope, and now mine own !
Doth not this rude and Alpine glen
Recall our favourite haunts agen ?
A wild resemblance we can trace.
Though reft of every softer grace.
As the rough warrior's brow may bear
A likeness to a sister fair.
Full well advised our Highland host.
That this wild pass on foot be crossed.

164 THE BRIDAL

Canto III,

While round Ben-Cruach's mighty base
Wheel the slow steeds and lingering chaise.
The keen old carle, with Scottish pride.
He praised his glen and mountains wide ;
An eye he bears for nature's face.
Ay, and for woman's lovely grace.
Even in such mean degree we find
The subtle Scot's observing mind ;
For, nor the chariot, nor the train.
Could gape of vulgar wonder gain.
But when old Allan would expound
Of Beal-na-paish* the Celtic sound.
His bonnet doff'd, and bow, applied
His legend to my bonny bride ;
While Lucy blush'd beneath his eye.
Courteous and cautious, shrewd and sly.

• Beal-na-paish, the Vale of the Bridal.

Canto III. OF TRIERMAIN. 166

IL

Enough of him. — Now, ere we lose.
Plunged in the vale, the distant views.
Turn thee, my love ! look back once more
To the blue lake's retiring shore.
On its smooth breast the shadows seem
Like objects in a morning dream.
What time the slumberer is aware
He sleeps, and all the vision's air :
Even so, on yonder liquid lawn.
In hues of bright reflection drawn.
Distinct the shaggy mountains lie.
Distinct the rocks, distinct the sky ;
The summer clouds so plain we note.
That we might count each dappled spot :
We gaze and we admire, yet know
The scene is all delusive show.
Such dreams of bliss would Arthur draw.
When first his Lucy's form he saw ;

166 THE BRIDAL Canto III.

Yet sigh'd and sicken'd as he drew^
Despairing they could e'er prove true !

III.
But, Lucy, turn thee now, to view

Up the fair glen our destined way :
The fairy path that we pursue.
Distinguished but by greener hue.

Winds round the purple brae,
While Alpine flowers of varied dye
For carpet serve or tapestry.

See how the little runnels leap.
In threads of silver, down the steep.

To swell the brooklet's moan !
Seems that the Highland Naiad grieves.
Fantastic while her crown she weaves, '
Of rowan, birch, and alder-leaves.

So lovely, and so lone.
There's no illusion there ; these flowers.
That wailing brook, these lovely bowers.

Are, Lucy, all our own ;

Canto III. OF TRIERMAIN. 167

And, since thine Arthur call'd thee wife,
Such seems the prospect of his life,
A lovely path, on-winding still.
By gurgling brook and sloping hill.
'Tis true that mortals cannot tell
What waits them in the distant dell ;
But be it hap, or be it harm.
We tread the path- way arm in arm.

IV.

And now, my Lucy, wot'st thou why
I could thy bidding twice deny.
When twice you pray'd I would again
Resume the legendary strain
Of the bold Knight of Triermain ?
At length yon peevish vow you swore.
That you would sue to me no more.
Until the minstrel fit drew near.
And made me prize a listening ear.

168 THE BRIDAL

Canto HI.

But, loveliest, when thou first didst pray
Continuance of the knightly lay.
Was it not on the happy day

That made thy hand mine own ?
When, dizzied with mine ecstacy.
Nought past, or present, or to be.
Could I or think on, hear, or see.

Save, Lucy, thee alone !
A giddy draught my rapture was.
As ever chemist's magic gas.

V.

Again the summons I denied
In yon fair capital of Clyde :
My Harp— or let me rather chuse
The good old classic form — my Muse,
(For Harp's an over-scutched phrase.
Worn out by bards of modern days,)
My Muse, then — seldom will she wake
Save by dim wood and silent lake.

Canto III. OF TRIERMAlN. 169

She is the wild and rustic Maid,
Whose foot unsandaird loves to tread
Where the soft green-sward is inlaid

With varied moss and thyme ;
And, lest the simple lily-braid.
That coronets her temples, fade.
She hides her still in greenwood shade.

To meditate her rhyme.

VI.

And now she comes ! The murmur dear
Of the wild brook hath caught her ear,

The glade hath won her eye ;
She longs to join with each blithe rill
That dances down the Highland hill.

Her blither melody.
And now, my Lucy's way to cheer.
She bids Ben-Cruach's echoes hear

VOL. V. H

170 ' THE BRIDAL, &C. Canto IIL

How closed the tale^ my love whilere

Loved for its chivalry.
List how she tells^ in notes of flame^
" Child Roland to the dark tower came !"

THE

BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN.

CANTO THIRD.

Bewcastle now must keep the Hold,

Speir- Adam's steeds must bide in stall.
Of Hartley-burn the bowmen bold

Must only shoot from battled wall ;
And Liddesdale may buckle spur.

And Teviot now may belt the brand,
Tarras and Ewes keep nightly stir,
^ And Esdale forray Cumberland.
Of wasted fields and plundered flocks

The Borderers bootless may complain ;
They lack the sword of brave De Vaux,

There comes no aid from Triermain.

172 THE BRIDAL Canto III.

That lord^ on high adventure bounds

Hath wander'd forth alone^
And day and night keeps watchful round

In the valley of Saint John.

II.

When first began his vigil bold.

The moon twelve summer nights was old.

And shone both fair and full ;
High in the vault of cloudless blue.
O'er streamlet, dale, and rock, she threw

Her light composed and cool.
Stretch'd on the brown hill's heathy breast.

Sir Roland eyed the vale ;
Chief, where, distinguished from the rest.
Those clustering rocks uprear'd their crest.
The dwelling of the fair distress'd.

As told grey Lyulph's tale.
Thus as he lay, the lamp of night
Was quivering on his armour bright.

Canto III. OF TRIERMAIN. 173

In beams that rose and fell.
And danced upon his buckler's boss.
That lay beside him on the moss.

As on a crystal well.

III.

Ever he watch'd, and oft he deem'd.

While on the mound the moonlight streamed.

It altered to his eyes ;
Fain would he hope the rocks 'gan change
To buttressed walls their shapeless range.
Fain think^ by transmutation strange.

He saw grey turrets rise.
But scarce his heart with hope throbbed high.
Before the wild illusions fly.

Which fancy had conceived,
Abutted by an anxious eye

That long'd to be deceived.
It was a fond deception all.
Such as, in solitary hall.

174 THE BRIDAL Canto I IL

Beguiles the musing eye^
When^ gazing on the sinking fire.
Bulwark and battlement and spire

In the red gulph we spy.
For, seen by moon of middle night.
Or by the blaze of noontide bright,
Or by the dawn of morning light.

Or evening's western flame.
In every tide, at every hour.
In mist, in sunshine, and in shower.

The rocks remained the same.

IV.

Oft has he traced the charmed mound.
Oft climb'd its crest, or paced it round.

Yet nothing might explore.
Save that the crags so rudely piled.
At distance seen, resemblance wild

To a rough fortress bore.
Yet still his watch the Warrior keeps.
Feeds hard and spare, and seldom sleeps.

p

Canto III. OF TRIEIIMAIN. 175

And drinks but of the well ;
Ever by day he walks the hill.
And when the evening gale is chill.

He seeks a rocky cell.
Like hermit poor to bid his bead.
And tell his Ave and his Creed,
Invoking every Saint at need.

For aid to burst the spell.

V.

And now the moon her orb has hid.
And dwindled to a silver thread.

Dim seen in middle heaven.
While o'er its curve careering fast.
Before the fury of the blast.

The midnight clouds are driven.
The brooklet raved, for on the hills
The upland showers had swoln the rills.

And down the torrents came ;
Muttered the distant thunder dread.

1T6 THE BRIDAL Canto III.

And frequent o*er the vale was spread

A sheet of lightning flame.
De Vaux^ within his mountain cave^
(No human step the storm durst brave^)
To moody meditation gave

Each faculty of soul,
Till^ luird by distant torrent-sound.
And the sad wind that whistled round.
Upon his thoughts, in musing drown'd,

A broken slumber stole.

VI.

Twas then was heard a heavy sound :
(Sound strange and fearful there to hear,

*Mongst desert hills, where, leagues around.
Dwelt but the gor-cock and the deer :)

As starting from his couch of fern.

Again he heard, in clangor stern,
That deep and solemn swell ;

Twelve times, in measured tone, it spoke.

Canto Ilh OF TRIERMAIN. 17'

Like some proud minster's pealing clocks

Or city's larum-bell.
What thought was Roland's first when fell.
In that deep wilderness^ the knell

Upon his startled ear ?
To slander warrior were I loth.
Yet must I hold my minstrel troth, —

It was a thought of fear.

VII.

But lively was the mingled thrill
That chased that momentary chill ;

For love's keen wish was there.
And eager hope, and valour high.
And the proud glow of chivalry.

That burn'd to do and dare.
Forth from the cave the Warrior rush'd.
Long ere the mountain-voice was hush'd.

That answer'd to the knell ;

For long and far the unwonted sound,

h2

178 THE BRIDAL Canto III,

Eddying in echoes round and round.
Was toss'd from fell to fell ;
And Glaramara answer flung.
And Grisdale-pike responsive rung.
And Legbert heights their echoes swung.
As far as Derwent's dell.

VIII.

Forth upon trackless darkness gazed
The Knight, bedeafen'd and amazed.

Till all was hush'd and still.
Save the swoll'n torrent's sullen roar.
And the night-blast that wildly bore

Its course along the hill.
Then on the northern sky there came
A light, as of reflected flame.

And over Legbert-head,
As if by magic art controlled,
A mighty meteor slowly roll'd

Its orb of fiery red ;

Canto III. OF TEIERMAIN. 179

Thou would'st have thought some demon dire
Came mounted on that car of fire.

To do his errand dread.
Far on the sloping valley's course.
On thicket, rock, and torrent hoarse,
Shingle and scrae,* and fell and force,t

A dusky light arose :
Displayed, yet alter'd was the scene ;
Dark rock, and brook of silver sheen.
Even the gay thicket's stimmer green.

In bloody tincture glows.

IX.

De Vaux had mark'd the sunbeams set.
At eve, upon the coronet

Of that enchanted mound.
And seen but crags at random flung.
That, o'er the brawling torrent hung.

In desolation frown'd.

* Bank of loose stones. t Water-fall.

180 THE BRIDAL Canio JIL

What sees he by that meteor's lour ? —
A banner'd Castle^ Keep, and Tower,

Return the lurid gleam.
With battled walls and buttress fast,
And barbican* and balliumt vast.
And airy flanking towe^rs, that cast
Their shadows on the stream.
'Tis no deceit ; distinctly clear
Cr en ell J and parapet appear.
While o'er the pile that meteor drear

Makes momentary pause ;
Then forth its solemn path it drew.
And fainter yet and fainter grew
Those gloomy towers upon the view.

As its wild light withdrav/s.

* The outer defence of the castle-gate.

•|- Fortified court.

X Apertures for shooting arrows.

Canto III, OF TRIERMAIX. 181

X.

Forth from the cave did Roland rush.

O'er crag and stream, through brier and busli ;

Yet far he had not sped.
Ere sunk was that portentous light
Behind the hills, and iltter night

Was on the valley spread.
He paused perforce, — and blew his horn ;
And on the mountain-echoes borne

Was heard an answering sound,
A wild and lonely trumpet-note, —
In middle air it seem'd to float

High o'er the battled mound ;
And sounds were heard, as when a guard
Of some proud castle holding ward.
Pace forth their nightly round.
The valiant Knight of Triermain
Rung forth his challenge-blast again.

182 THE BRIDAL Canto 11 L

But answer came there none ;
And 'mid the mingled wind and rain^
Darkling he sought the vale in vain^

Until the dawning shone ;
And when it dawn'd^ that wondrous sights
Distinctly seen by meteor-light^

It all had pass'd awaj^ !
And that enchanted mound once more
A pile of granite fragments bore^

As at the close of day.

XI.

Steel'd for the deed, De Vaux's heai-t
Scorn'd from his venturous quest to part.

He walks the vale once more ;
But only sees, by night or day.
That shattered pile of rocks so grey.

Hears but the torrent's roar.
Till when, through hills of azure borne.
The moon renew'd her silver horn.

Canto III, OF TllIERMAIN. l83

Just at the time her waning ray
Had faded in the dawning day,

A summer mist arose ;
Adown the vale the vapours float.
And cloudy undulations moat
That tufted mound of mystic note.

As round its base they close.
And higher now the fleecy tide
Ascends its stern and shaggy side.
Until the airy billows hide

The rocks' majestic isle ;
It seem'd a veil of filmy lawn.
By some fantastic fairy drawn

Around enchanted pile.

XII.

The breeze came softly down the brook,

Apd, sighing as it blew.
The veil of silver mist it shook.
And to De^V^ux's eager look

184 THE BIIIDAL Canto III,

Renew'd that wondrous view.
For, though the loitering vapour braved
The gentle breeze, yet oft it waved

Its mantle's dewy fold ;
And, still, when shook that filmy screen.
Were towers and bastions dimly seen,
And Gothic battlements between

Their gloomy length unrolFd.
Speed, speed, De Vaux, ere on thine eye
Once more the fleeting vision die !
— The gallant Knight can speed
As prompt and light as, when the hound
Is opening, and the horn is wound.

Careers the hunter's steed.
Down the steep dell his course amain

Hath rivaird archer's shaft ;
But ere the mound he could attain.
The rocks their shapeless form regainj
And mocking loud his labour vain.

The mountain spirits laugh 'd.

Canto III. OF TRIERMAIN. 185

Far up the echoing dell was borne
Their wild unearthly shout of scorn.

XIII.

Wroth wax'd the Warrior. — ^^ Am I then

Fool'd by the enemies of men.

Like a poor hind, whose homeward way

Is haunted by malicious fay ?

Is Triermain become your taunt,

De Vaux your scorn ? False fiends, avaunt !"—

A weighty curtail-axe he bare ;

The baleful blade so bright and square.

And the tough shaft of heben wood.

Were oft in Scottish gore embrued.

Backward his stately form he drew.

And at the rocks the weapon threw.

Just where one crag's projected crest

Hung proudly balanced o'er the rest.

Hurl'd with main force, the weapon's shock

Rent a huge fragment of the rock :

186 THE BRIDAL Canto III,

If by mere strength 'twere hard to tell.
Or if the blow dissolved some spell.
But down the headlong ruin came.
With cloud of dust and flash of flame.
Down bank, o'er bush, its course was borne.
Crushed lay the copse, the earth was torn.
Till, staid at length, the ruin dread
Cumbered the torrent's rocky bed.
And bade the waters' high-swoll'n tide
Seek other passage for its pride.

XIV.

When ceased that thunder, Triermain
Surveyed the mound's rude front again ;
And lo ! the ruin had laid bare.
Hewn in the stone, a winding stair.
Whose moss'd and fractured steps might lend
The means the summit to ascend ;
And by whose aid the brave De Vaux
Began to scale those magic rocks,

Canto III. OF TRIERMAIN. 187

And soon a platform won.
Where, the wild witchery to close.
Within three lances' length arose

The Castle of Saint John I
No misty phantom of the air.
No meteor-blazon'd show was there ;
In morning splendour, full and fair.

The massive fortress shone.

XV.

Embattled high and proudly tower'd.
Shaded by ponderous flankers, lower'd

The portal's gloomy way.
Though for six hundred years and moi'e.
Its strength had brook'd the tempest's roar.
The scutcheon'd emblems that it bore

Had suffered no decay ;
But from the eastern battlement
A turret had made sheer descent.
And down in recent ruin rent.

188 THE BRIDAL Canto III.

In the mid torrent lay.
Else, o'er the Castle's brow sublime.
Insults of violence or of time

Unfelt had pass'd away.
In shapeless characters of yore.
The gate this stern inscription bore.

XVI.
Kn^rripttutt*
'' Patience waits the destined day.
Strength can clear the cumbered way.
Warrior, who hast waited long.
Firm of soul, of sinews strong.
It is given to thee to gaze
On the pile of ancient days.
Never mortal builder's hand
This enduring fabric planned ;
Sign and sigil, word of power.
From the earth raised keep and tower.

1

Canto IJL OF TRIEIIMAIN. 189

View it o'er, and pace it round.
Rampart, turret, battled mound.
Dare no more ! — to cross the gate
Were to tamper with thy fate :
Strength and fortitude were rain !
View it o'er — and turn again/'— ^

XVIL

'' That would I," said the Warrior bold,
*^ If that my frame were bent and old.
And my thin blood dropp'd slow and cold

As icicle in thaw ;
But while my heart can feel it dance,
Blithe as the sparkling wine of France,
And this good arm wields sword or lance,

I mock these words of awe !" —
He said ; the wicket felt the sway
Of his strong hand, and straight gave way.
And with rude crash and jarring bray.

The rusty bolts withdraw ;

190 THE BRIDAL Canto IIL

But o'er the threshold as he strode^
And forward took the vaulted road^
An unseen arm with force amain
The ponderous gate flung close again^

And rusted bolt and bar
Spontaneous took their place once more.
While the deep arch with sullen roar

Eeturn'd their surly jar.
^^ Now closed is the gin and the prey within.

By the rood of Lanercost !
But he that would win the war-wolf's skin.

May rue him of his boast/'—
Thus muttering, on the Warrior went.
By dubious light down steep descent.

XVIII.

Unbarr'd, unlocked, unwatch'd, a port
Led to the Castle's outer court :
There the main fortress, broad and tall.
Spread its long range of bower and hall.

Canto in. OF TEIERMAIN. 3 91

And towers of varied size^
Wrought with each ornament extreme.
That Gothic art, in wildest dream

Of fancy, could devise.
But full between the Warrior's way
And the main portal-arch, there lay
An inner moat j
Nor bridge nor boat
Affords de Vaux the means to cross
The clear, profound, and silent fosse.
His arms aside in haste he flings.
Cuirass of steel and hauberk rings.
And down falls helm, and down the shield.
Rough with the dints of many a field.
Fair was his manly form, and fair
His keen dark eye, and close-curl'd hair.
When, — all unarm'd, save that the brand
Of well-proved metal graced his hand.
With nought to fence his dauntless breast
But the close gipon's* under- vest,

• A sort of doublet, worn beneath the armour.

192 THE BEIDAL Canto III.

Whose sullied buiF the sable stains

Of hauberk and of mail retains^ —

Roland De Vaux upon the brim

Of the broad moat stood prompt to swim,

XIX.

Accouter'd thus he dared the tide^
And soon he reached the farther side^

And entered soon the Hold,
And paced a hall, whose walls so wide
Were blazon'd all with feats of pride.

By warriors done of old.
In middle lists they countered here.

While trumpets seem'd to blow ;
And there, in den or desart drear.

They queird gigantic foe.
Braved the fierce griifon in his ire.
Or faced the dragon's breath of fire.
Strange in their arms, and strange in face.
Heroes they seem'd of ancient race,

1

Canto IIL OF TRIERMAIN. 193

Whose deeds of arms^ and race^ and name^
Forgotten long by latter fame^

Were here depicted to appal
Those of an age degenerate^
Whose bold intrusion braved their fate

In this enchanted hall.
For some short space, the venturous Knight
With these high marvels fed his sight ;
Then sought the chamber's upper end^
Where three broad easy steps ascend
To an arch'd portal door.
In whose broad folding leaves of state
Was framed a wicket window-grate ;

And ere he ventured more.
The gallant Knight took earnest view
The grated wicket-window through.

XX.

Oh for his arms ! Of martial weed
Had never mortal Knight such need ! —

VOL. v. I

194 THE BRIDAL Canto III

He spied a stately gallery ; all

Of snow-white marble was the wall.

The vaulting, and the floor ;
And, contrast strange ! on either hand
There stood array'd in sable band

Four Maids, whom Afric bore ;
And each a Lybian tyger led,
Held by as bright and frail a thread

As Lucy's golden hair ;
For the leash that bound these monsters dread

Was but of gossamer.
Each Maiden's short barbaric vest
Left all unclosed the knee and breast.

And limbs of shapely jet ;
White was their vest and turban's fold.
On arms and ancles rings of gold

In savage pomp were set ;
A quiver on their shoulders lay.
And in their hand an assagay.
Such and so silent stood they there.

That Roland well nigh hoped.

Canto III. OF TRIERMAIN. 195

He saw a band of statues rare.
Stationed the gazer's soul to scare ;

But, when the wicket oped.
Each griesly breast 'gan upward draw,
Roird his grim eye, and spread his claw,
Scented the air, and lick'd his jaw ;
While these weird Maids, in Moorish tongue,
A wild and dismal warning sung.

XXI.

^^ Rash adventurer, bear thee back !

Dread the spell of Dahomay !
Fear the race of Zaharak,

Daughters of the burning day !

^^ When the whirlwind's gusts are wheeling,

Our's it is the dance to braid ;
Zarah's sands in pillars reeling.

Join the measure that we tread.

196 THE BRIDAL Canto III,

When the Moon hath don'd her cloak.

And the stars are red to see.
Shrill when pipes the sad Siroc,

Music meet for such as we.

^^ Where the shattered columns lie.

Shewing Carthage once had been.
If the wandering Santon's eye
Our mysterious rites hath seen, —
Oft he cons the prayer of death.

To the nations preaches doom,
^ Azrael's brand hath left the sheath !

Moslems, think upon the tomb !' —

" Our's the scorpion, our's the snake,

Our's the hydra of the fen,
Our's the tyger of the brake.

All that plagues the sons of men.
Our's the tempest's midnight wrack.

Pestilence that wastes by day—

Canto III. OF TRIERMAIN. 197

Dread the race of Zaharak !
Fear the spell of Dahomay !" —

XXII.

Uncouth and strange the accents shrill

Rung those vaulted roofs among ;
Long it was ere, faint and still.

Died the far-resounding song.
While yet the distant echoes roll.
The Warrior communed with his soul.
^^ When first I took this venturous quest,

I swore upon the rood.
Neither to stop, nor turn, nor rest.

For evil or for good.
My forward path, too well I ween.
Lies yonder fearful ranks between ;
For man unarm'd, 'tis bootless hope
With tygers and with fiends to cope —
Yet, if I turn, what waits me there.
Save famine dire and fell despair ? —

198 THE BRIDAL Canto III

Other conclusion let me try^
Since^ chuse howe'er I list^ I die.
Forward, lies faith and knightly fame ;
Behind, are perjury and shame.
In life or death I hold my word :" —
With that he drew his trusty sword.
Caught down a banner from the wall.
And entered thus the fearful hall.

XXIII.
On high each wayward Maiden threw
Her swarthy arm, with wild halloo !
On either side a tyger sprung —
Against the leftward foe he flung
The ready banner, to engage
With tangling folds the brutal rage ;
The right-hand monster in mid air
He struck so fiercely and so fair.
Through gullet and through spinal bone
The trenchant blade hath sheerly gone.

Canto III. OF TRIERMAIN. 199

His griesly brethren ramp'd and yell'd,
But the slight leash their rage withheld.
Whilst^ 'twixt their ranks, the dangerous road
Firmly, though swift, the champion strode.
Safe to the gallery's bound he drew.
Safe past an open portal through ;
And when 'gainst followers he flung
The gate, judge if the echoes rung I
Onward his daring course he bore.
While, mix*d with dying growl and roar.
Wild jubilee and loud hurra
Pursued him on his venturous way.

XXIV.

^^ Hurra, hurra ! Our watch is done !
We hail once more the tropic sun.
Pallid beams of northern day.
Farewell, farewell ! Hurra, hurra !

" Five hundred years o'er this cold glen
Hath the pale sun come round agen ;

200 THE BRIDAL Canto III,

Foot of man^ till now, hath ne'er
Dared to cross the Hall of Fear.

" Warrior ! thou, whose dauntless heart
Gives us from our ward to part.
Be as strong in future trial.
Where resistance is denial.

^^ Now for Afric's glowing sky,
Zwenga wide and Atlas high,

Zaharak and Dahomay !

Mount the winds ! Hurra, hurra f —

XXV.

The wizard song at distance died

As if in ether borne astray.
While through waste halls and chambers wide

The Knight pursued his steady way.
Till to a lofty dome he came.
That flash'd with such a brilliant flame.

Canto III. OF TRIERMAIN. 201

As if the wealth of all the world
Were there in rich confusion hurl'd.
For here the gold^ in sandy heaps.
With duller earth incorporate sleeps ;
Was there in ingots piled, and there
Coin'd badge of empery it bare ;
Yonder, huge bars of silver lay,
Dimm'd by the diamond's neighbouring ray,
Like the pale moon in morning day ;
And in the midst four Maidens stand.
The daughters of some distant land.
Their hue was of the dark-red dye.
That fringes oft a thunder-sky ;
Their hands palmetto baskets bare.
And cotton fillets bound their hair ;
Slim was their form, their mien was shy,
To earth they bent the humbled eye.
Folded their arms, and suppliant kneel'd.
And thus their proffer'd gifts reveal'd.

I 2

202 THE BRIDAL Canto III.

XXVI.

" See the treasures Merlin piled.
Portion meet for Arthur's child.
Bathe in Wealth's unbounded stream.
Wealth that Avarice ne'er could dream !*' —

^^ See these clots of virgin gold !
Sever'd from the sparry mould.
Nature's mystic alchemy
In the mine thus bade them lie ;
And their orient smile can win
Kings to stoop, and saints to sin." —

'' See these pearls, that long have slept ;
These were tears by Naiads wept

Canto IIL OF TRIERMAIN. 203

For the loss of Marinel.
Tritons in the silver shell
Treasured them, till hard and white
As the teeth of Amphitrite." —

^^ Does a livelier hue delight ?
Here are rubies blazing bright.
Here the emerald's fairy green.
And the topaz glows between ;
Here their varied hues unite
In the changeful chrysolite." —

^^ Leave these gems of poorer shine.
Leave them all, and look on mine !
While their glories I expand.
Shade thine eye-brows with thy hand.
Mid-day sun and diamond's blaze
Blind the rash beholder's gaze." —

204 THE BRIDAL Canto III,

'^ Warrior^ seize the splendid store :
Would 'twere all our mountains bore !
We should ne'er in future story^
Read^ Peru^ thy perisVd glory V

XXVII.

Calmly and unconcerned^ the Knight
Waved aside the treasures bright :
^^ Gentle Maidens^ rise^ I pray !
Bar not thus my destined way.
Let these boasted brilliant toys
Braid the hair of girls and boys !
Bid your streams of gold expand
O'er proud London's thirsty land.
De Vaux of wealth saw never need^
Save to purvey him arms and steed^
And all the ore he deign'd to hoard
Inlays his helm^ and hilts his sword." —

Canto III. OF TllIERMAIN. 205

Thus gently parting from their hold.
He left, unmoved, the dome of gold.

XXVIII.

And now the morning sun was high,
De Vaux was weary, faint, and dry :
When lo ! a plashing sound he hears,
A gladsome signal that he nears

Some frolic water-run ;
And soon he reach'd a court-yard square.
Where dancing in the sultry air,
Toss'd high aloft, a fountain fair

Was sparkling in the sun.
On right and left, a fair arcade
In long perspective view displayed
Alkys and bowers, for sun or shade;

But, full in front, a door,
Low-brow'd and dark, seem'd as it led
To the lone dwelling of the dead.
Whose memory was no more.

206 THE BRIDAL Canto IIL

Here stopp'd De Vaux an instant's space.
To bathe his parched lips and face.

And mark'd with well-pleased eye.
Refracted on the fountain stream.
In rainbow hues, the dazzling beam

Of that gay summer sky.
His senses felt a mild controul.
Like that which lulls the weary soul.

From contemplation high
Relaxing, when the ear receives
The music that the green-wood leaves

Make to the breezes' sigh.

XXIX.

And oft in such a dreamy mood.

The half-shut eye can frame
Fair apparitions in the wood.
As if the nymphs of field and flood

In gay procession came.

Canto III. OF TRIEIIMAIN. 207

Are these of such fantastic mould.

Seen distant down the fair arcade.
These Maids enlink'd in sister-fold.
Who, late at bashful distance staid.
Now tripping from the greenwood shade.

Nearer the musing champion draw.

And, in a pause of seeming awe,
Affain stand doubtful now ? —

Ah, that sly pause of witching powers !

That seems to say, ^^. To please be ours.
Be yours to tell us how."
Their hue was of the golden glow
That suns of Candahar bestow.
O'er which in slight suffusion flows
A frequent tinge of paly rose ;
Their limbs were fashion'd fair and free.
In nature's justest symmetry.
And wreath 'd with flowers, with odours graced.
Their raven ringlets reach'd the waist ;
In eastern pomp, its gilding pale
The hennah lent each shapely nail.

208 THE BRIDAL Canto III,

And the dark sumah gave the eye
More liquid and more lustrous dye.
The spotless veil of misty lawn^
In studied disarrangement, drawn

The form and bosom o'er.
To win the eye, or tempt the touch.
For modesty shew'd all too much—

Too much — yet promised more.

XXX.

^^ Gentle Knight, awhile delay,"

Thus they sung, ^^ thy toilsome way.

While we pay the duty due

To our Master and to you.

Over Avarice, over Fear,

Love triumphant led thee here ;

Warrior, list to us, for we

Are slaves to Love, are friends to thee.

" Though no treasured gems have we.
To proffer on the bended knee,

Canto III. OF TllIERMAIN. 209

Though we boast nor arm nor hearty

For the assagay or dart.

Swains have given each simple girl

Ruby lip and teeth of pearl ;

Or, if dangers more you prize.

Flatterers find them in our eyes.

" Stay, then, gentle Warrior, stay.
Rest till evening steal on day ;
Stay, O stay ! — in yonder bowers
We will braid thy locks with flowers.
Spread the feast and fill the wine.
Charm thy ear with sounds divine.
Weave our dances till delight
Yield to languor, day to night.

^^ Then shall she you most approve.
Sing the lays that best you love.
Soft thy mossy couch shall spread.
Watch thy pillow, prop thy head.

210 THE BRIDAL Canto III.

Till the weary night be o'er —
Gentle Warrior^ would'st thou more ?
Would*st thou more, fair Warrior^ — she
Is slave to Love, and slave to thee.*'-^

XXXI.

O do not hold it for a crime
In the bold hero of my rhyme.

For stoic look.

And meet rebuke.
He lack'd the heart or time !
As round the band of syrens trip,
He kiss'd one damsel's laughing lip.
And pressed another's proiFer'd hand.
Spoke to them all in accents bland.
But broke their magic circle through ;
^^ Kind Maids," he said, ^^ adieu, adieu !
My fate, my fortune, forward lies." —
He said, and vanished from their eyes ;
But, as he dared that darksome way.
Still heard behind their lovely lay :

Canto IIL OF TRIERMAIN. 211

^*^ Fair Flower of Courtesy, depart !
Go^ where the feelings of the heart
With the warm pulse in concord move :
Go, where Virtue sanctions Love V —

XXXII.

Downward De Vaux through darksome ways

And ruin'd vaults has gone.
Till issue from their wilder'd maze.

Or safe retreat, seem'd none ;
And e'en the dismal path he strays

Grew worse as he went on.
For cheerful sun, for living air.
Foul vapours rise and mine-fires glare.
Whose fearful light the dangers show'd
That dogg'd him on that dreadful road.
Deep pits, and lakes of waters dun.
They shew'd, but shew'd not how to shun.
These scenes of desolate despair.
These smothering clouds of poison'd air.

212 THE BRIDAL Canto III.

How gladly had De Vaux exchanged^
Though 'twere to face yon tygers ranged !

Nay, soothful bards have said.
So perilous his state seem'd now.
He wish'd him under arbour bough

With Asia's willing maid.
When, joyful sound ! at distance near
A trumpet flourish'd loud and clear.
And, as it ceased, a lofty lay
Seem'd thus to chide his lagging way.

XXXHI.

^^ Son of Honour, theme of story.
Think on the reward before Ve !
Danger, darkness, toil despise ;
'Tis Ambition bids thee rise.

'^ He that would her heights ascend.
Many a weary step must wend ;
Hand and foot and knee he tries :
Thus Ambition's minions rise.

I

Canto IJI, OF TRIERMAIN. 213

'^ Lag not now^ though rough the way.
Fortune's mood brooks no delay ;
Grasp the boon that's spread before ye.
Monarch's power, and Conqueror's glory !" —

It ceased. Advancing on the sound,
A steep ascent the Wanderer found.

And then a turret stair :
Nor climb'd he far its steepy round

Till fresher blew the air.
And next a welcome glimpse was given.
That cheer'd him with the light of heaven.

At length his toil had won
A lofty hall with trophies dress'd.
Where, as to greet imperial guest.
Four Maidens stood, whose crimson vest

Was bound with golden zone.

XXXIV

Of Eiu'ope seem'd the damsels all ;
The first a nymph of lively Gaul,

214 THE BRIDAL Canto III.

Whose easy step and laughing eye
Her borrowed air of awe belie ;

The next a maid of Spain,
Dark-eyed, dark-hair'd, sedate, yet bold;
White ivory skin and tress of gold.
Her shy and bashful comrade told
For daughter of Almaine.
These Maidens bore a royal robe.
With crown, with sceptre, and with globe.

Emblems of empery ;
The fourth a space behind them stood.
And leant upon a harp, in mood

Of minstrel ecstacy.
Of merry England she, in dress
Like ancient British druidess ;
Her hair an azure fillet bound.
Her graceful vesture swept the ground.

And, in her hand displayed,
A crown did that fourth Maiden hold.
But unadorn'd with gems and gold.
Of glossy laurel made.

Canto III. OF TRIEHMAIN. 215

XXXV.

At once to brave De Vaux knelt down

These foremost Maidens three^
And proiFer'd sceptre^ robe, and crown,

Liegedom and seignorie.
O'er many a region wide and fair.
Destined, they said, for Arthur's heir ;

But homage would he none :—
^^ Rather," he said, ^^ De Vaux would ride
A Warden of the Border-side,
In plate and mail, than, robed in pride,

A monarch's empire own ;
Rather, far rather, would he be
A free-born Knight of England free.

Than sit on Despot's throne." —
So pass'd he on, when that fourth Maid,

As starting from a trance.
Upon the harp her finger laid ;

216 THE BRIDAL Canto 111.

Her magic touch the chords obey'd^
Their soul awaked at once !

^' Quake to your foundations deep.
Stately Towers, and banner'd Keep !
Bid your vaulted echoes moan.
As the dreaded step they own.

'^ Fiends, that wait on Merlin's spell.
Hear the foot-fall ! mark it well !
Spread your dusky wings abroad,
Boune ye for your homeward road.

" It is HIS, the first who e'er

Dared the dismal Hall of Fear ;

His, who hath the snares defied

Spread by Pleasure, Wealth, and Pride.
4

C<inio III. OF TRIERMAIN. 217

*^ Quake to your foundations deep.
Bastion huge, and Turret steep !
Tremble Keep, and totter Tower !
This is Gyneth^s waking hour."—

XXXVII.

Thus while she sung, the venturous Knight
Has reached a bower, where milder light

Through crimson curtains fell ;
Such soften'd shade the hill receives.
Her purple veil when twilight leaves

Upon its western swell.
That bower, the gazer to bewitch.

Had wondrous store of rare and rich

As e'er was seen with eye ;
For there by magic skill, I wis.
Form of each thing that living is

Was limn'd in proper dye.
All seem'd to sleep — the timid hare
On form, the stag upon his lair,

VOL. V. K

218 THE BEIDAL Canto III,

The eagle in her eyrie fair

Between the earth and sky.
But what of pictured rich and rare
Could win De Vaux's eye-glance, where.
Deep slumbering in the fatal chair.

He saw King Arthur's child !
Doubt, and anger, and dismay.
From her brow had pass'd away,
Forgot was that fell tourney-day,

For, as she slept, she smiled.
It seem'd that the repentant Seer
Her sleep of many a hundred year

With gentle dreams beguiled*

XXXVHL

That form of maiden loveliness,

'Twixt childhood and 'twixt youth.
That ivory chair, that sylvan dress.
The arms and ancles bare, express
Of Lyulph's tale the truth.

Canto III. OF TEIERMAIN. 219

, Still upon her garment's hem
Vanoc's blood made purple gem.
And the warder of command
Cumber'd still her sleeping hand ;
Still her dark locks dishevelled flow
From net of pearl o'er breast of snow ;
And so fair the slumberer seems.
That De Vaux impeach'd his dreams.
Vapid all and void of might.
Hiding half her charms from sight.
Motionless a while he stands.
Folds his arms and clasps his hands.
Trembling in his fitful joy.
Doubtful how he shall destroy

Long-enduring spell ;
Doubtful too, when slowly rise
Dark-fringed lids of Gyneth's eyes.

What these eyes shall tell.
'^ St George ! St Mary ! can it be.
That they will kindly look on me !"—

220 THE BRIDAL Canto HI.

XXXIX.

Gently, lo ! the Warrior kneels.

Soft that lovely hand he steals.
Soft to kiss, and soft to clasp —
But the warder leaves her grasp ;

Lightning flashes, rolls the thunder !
Gyneth startles from her sleep.
Totters tower, and trembles keep.

Burst the Castle walls asunder !
Fierce and fi'equent were the shocks.

Melt the magic halls away

■But beneath their mystic rocks.
In the arms of bold De Vaux,

Safe the Princess lay !
Safe and free from magic power.
Blushing like the rose's flower

Opening to the day ;
And round the champion's brows were bound
The crown that Druidess had wound.

Of the green laurel-bay.

2

Canto III. OF TRIERMAIN. 221

And this was what remained of all
The wealth of each enchanted hall.

The Garland and the Dame :—
But where should Warrior seek the meed.
Due to high worth for daidng deed.

Except from Love and Fame !

CONCLUSION.

I.

My Lucy, when the maid is won.

The Minstrel's task, thou know'st, is done ;

And to require of bard
That to the dregs his tale should run,

Were ordinance too hard.
Our lovers, briefly be it said.
Wedded as lovers wont to wed.

When tale or play is o'er ;
Lived long and blest, loved fond and true.
And saw a numerous race renew

The honours that they bore.

224 THE BRIDAL

Know, too, that when a pilgrim strays^
In morning mist, or evening maze.

Along the mountain lone.
That fairy fortress often mocks
His gaze upon the castled rocks

Of the Valley of Saint John ;
But never man since brave De Vaux

The charmed portal won.
'Tis now a vain illusive show.
That melts whene'er the sunbeams glow.

Or the fresh breeze hath blown.

11-

But see, my love, where far below

Our lingering wheels are moving slow.

The whiles up-gazing still.
Our menials eye our steepy way.
Marvelling, perchance, what whim can stay
Our steps when eve is sinking grey

On this gigantic hill.

OF TRIEllMAIN. 225

So think the vulgar — Life and time
Ring all their joys in one dull chime

Of luxury and ease ;
And O ! beside these simple knaves.
How many better born are slaves

To such coarse joys as these.
Dead to the nobler sense that glows
When nature's grander scenes unclose I
But, Lucy, we will love them yet.
The mountain's misty coronet.

The green wood and the wold ;
And love the more, that of their maze
Adventure high of other days

By ancient bards is told.
Bringing, perchance, like my poor tale.
Some moral truth in fiction's veil :
Nor love them less, that o'er the hill
The evening breeze, as now, comes chill ,•-—

My love shall wrap her warm,
k2

226 THE BRIDAL, &C.

And, fearless of the slippery way.
While safe she trips the heathy brae.
Shall hang on Arthur's arm.

THE END OF TRIERMAIN.

NOTES

TO

€^e 3SriUal at €vitvmmn.

NOTES.

Like Collins^ ilUstarr'd name ! — P. 88. 1. 9.
Collins, according to Johnson, " by indulging some pecu-*
liar habits of thought, was eminently delighted with those flights
of imagination which pass the bounds of nature, and to which
the mind is reconciled only by a passive acquiescence in popular
traditions. He loved fairies, genii, giants, and monsters ; he
delighted to rove through the meanders of enchantment, to gaze
on the magnificence of golden palaces, to repose by the water-
falls of Elysian gardens."

The Baron of Triermain — P. 91. 1. 2.
Triermain was a fief of the Barony of Gilsland, in Cumber-
land ; it was possessed by a Saxon family at the time of the
Conquest, but, " after the death of Gilmore, Lord of Tryer-
maine and Torcrossock, Hubert Vaux gave Tryermaine and
Torcrossock to his second son, Ranulph Vaux, which Ranulph
afterwards became heir to his elder brother Robert, the founder

230 NOTES TQ

of Lanercost, who died without issue. Ranulph, being Lord
of all Gilsland, gave Gilmore's lands to his own younger son,
named Roland, and let the barony descend to his eldest son
Robert, son of Ranulph. Roland had issue Alexander, and he
Ranulph, after whom succeeded Robert, and they were named
Rolands successively, that were lords thereof, until the reign of
Edward the Fourth. That house gave for arms, Vert, a bend
dexter, chequey, or and gules. "—Burn's Antiquities of West'
moreland and Cumberland^ vol. II, p, 482.

This branch of Vaux, with its collateral alliances, is now
represented by the family of Braddyl of Conishead Priory, in
the county palatine of Lancaster ; for it appears, that about the
time above-mentioned, the house of Triermaine was united to
its kindred family Vaux of Caterlen, and, by marriage with the
heiress of Delamore and Leybourne, became the representative
of those ancient and noble families. The male line failing in
John de Vaux, about the year 1665, his daughter and heiress,
Mabel, married Christopher Richmond, Esq. of Highhead
Castle, in the county of Cumberland, descended from an ancient
family of that name, lords of Corby Castle, in the same county,
soon after the Conquest, and which they alienated about the
15th of Edward the Second, to Andrea de Harcla, Earl of
Carlisle. Of this family was Sir Thomas de Raigemont, (miles
auratus) in the reign of King Edward the First, who appears to
have greatly distinguished himself at the siege of Kaerlaveroc,
with William Baron of Leybourne. In an ancient heraldic
poem now extant, and preserved in the British IMuseum,
describing that siege, his arms are stated to be, Or, 2 Bars

THE BEIDAL OF TUIERMAIX. 231

Gemelles Gules, and a Chief Or, th€ same borne by his de-
scendants at the present day. The Richmonds removed to their
Castle of Highhead in the reign of Henry the Eighth, when the
then representative of the family married Margaret, daughter
of Sir Hugh Lowther, by the Lady Dorothy de Clifford, only
child by a second marriage of Henry Lord Clifford, great grand-
son of John Lord Clifford, by Elizabeth Percy, daughter of
Henry (surnamed Hotspur) by Elizabeth Mortimer, which
said Elizabeth was daughter of Edward Mortimer, third Earl
of Marche, by Phillippa, sole daughter and heiress of Lionel,
Duke of Clarence,

The third in descent from the above-mentioned John Rich-
mond, became the representative of the families of Vaux, of
Triermaine, Caterlen, and Torcrossock, by his marriage with
Mabel de Vaux, the heiress of them. His grandspn Henry
Richmond died without issue, leaving five sisters coheiresses,
four of whom married ; but Margaret, who married William
Gale, Esq. of Whitehaven, was the only one who had male
issue surviving. She had a son, and a daughter married to
Henry Curwen of Workington, Esq., who represented the
county of Cumberland for many years in parliament, and by
her had a daughter, married to John Christian, Esq., (now
Curwen.) John, son and heir of William Gale, married
Sarah, daughter and heiress of Christopher Wilson of Bard-
sea Hall, in the county of Lancaster, by Margaret, aunt and
coheiress of Thomas Braddyl, Esq. of Braddyl, and Conis-
head Priory, in the same county, and had issue four sons and
two, daughters. 1st, William Wilson, died an infant ; 2d,

232 NOTES TO

Wilson, who, upon the death of his cousin, Thomas Braddyl,
without issue, succeeded to his estates, and took the name of
Braddyl, in pursuance of his wiU, by the king*s sign manual ;
3d, William, died young ; and 4th, Henry Richmond, a
lieutenant-general of the army, married Sarah, daughter of the
Rev. R. Baldwin ; Margaret married Richard Greaves Town-
ley, Esq. of Fulbourne, in the county of Cambridge, and of
Bellfield, in the county of Lancaster ; Sarah married to George
Bigland of Bigland Hall, in the same county.

Wilson Braddyl, eldest son of John Gale, and grandson of
Margaret Richmond, married Jane, daughter and heiress of
Matthias Gale, Esq. of Catgill Hall, in the county of Cumber-
land, by Jane, daughter and heiress of the Rev. S. Bennet,
D. D. ; and, as the eldest surviving male branch of the fami-
lies above-mentioned, he quarters, in addition to his own, their
paternal coats in the following order, as appears by the records
in the College of Arms.

1st, Argent, a fess azure, between 3 saltiers of the same,
charged with an anchor between 2 lions heads erazed, or,—
Gale.

2d, Or, 2 bars gemeUes gules, and a chief or, — Richmond.

3d, Or, a fess chequey, or and gules between 9 gerbes gules,
— Vaux of Caterlen.

4th, Gules, a fess chequey, or and gules between 6 gerbes or,
— Vaux of Torcrossock.

5th, * Argent, a bend chequey, or and gules, for Vaux of
Triermain.

* Not vert, as stated by Burn.

THE BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIX. 233

6th, Gules, a cross patonce, or, — Delamore.
7th, Gules, 6 lions rampant argent, 3, 2, and 1,— Ley-
bourne.*

Atid his who sleeps at Dunmailraise* — P. 96. L 4.
Dunmailraise is one of the grand passes from Cumberland
into Westmoreland. It takes its name from a cairn, or pile of
stones, erected, it is said, to the memory of Dunmail, the last
King of Cumberland.

^PenrithU Table Round P. 97. 1. 7.

A circular entrenchment, about half a mile from Penrith, is
thus popularly termed. The circle within the ditch is about
one hundred and sixty paces in circumference, with openings,
or approaches, directly opposite to each other. A& the ditch
is on the inner side, it could not be intended for the purpose
of defence, and it has reasonably been conjectured, that the
inclosure was designed for the solemn exercise of feats of chi-
valry ; and the embankment around for the convenience of the
spectators.

Maylurgh^s mound and stones of power, — P. 97. 1. 9.

Higher up the river Eamont than Arthur's Round Table, is

a prodigious inclosure of great antiquity, formed by a collection

of stones upon the top of a gently sloping hill, called Mayburgh.

In the plain which it incloses there stands erect an unhewn

* This more detailed genealogy of the family of Triermain, was obli-
gingly sent to the author, by Major Braddyll of Conishead Priory.

234 XOTES TO.

stone of twelve feet in height. Two similar masses are said to
have been destroyed during the memory of man. The whole
appears to be a. monument of druidical times.

Though never sunbeam could discern
The surface of that salle tarn,^-V. 102. 1. 3, 4.
The small lake called Scales-tarn lies so deeply embosomed
in the recess of the; huge mountain called Saddleback, more
poetically Glaramara, is of such great depth, and so completely
hidden from the sun, that it is said its beams never reach it,
and that the reflection of the stars may b€ seen at mid-day.

TintadgeVs spear — P. 108. 1. 16.

Tintadgel Castlje, in CJornwall, is reported to have been the
birth-place of King Arthur.

Calihurnin cumbrous length,^^V. 108. 1. 18.

This was the name of King Arthur's well-known sword,
sometimes also called Excalibar.

From Arthur* s hand the goblet flew. ^^V. 127. 1. 5.
The author has an indistinct recollection of an adventure
somewhat similar to that which is here ascribed to King Ar-
thur, having befallen one of the ancient kings of Denmark.
The horn in which the burning liquor was presented to that
monarch, is said still to be preserved in the Royal Museum at
Copenhagen.

THE BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN. 23^

J^or tower nor donjon could he spy^

Darkening against the morning sky* — P. 127. !• 17? 18.

— " We now gained a view of the Vale of St John's, a
very narrow dell, hemmed in by mountains, through which a
small brook makes many meanderings, washing little indosures
of grass-ground, which stretch up the rising of the hills. In
the widest part of the dale you are struck with the appearance
of an ancient ruined castle, which seems to stand upon the
summit of a little mount, the mountains around forming an
amphitheatre. This massive bulwark shews a front of various
towers, and makes an awful, rude, and Gothic appearance,
with its lofty turrets and ragged battlements ; we traced the
galleries, the bending arches, the buttresses. The greatest an-
tiquity stands characterized in its architecture ; the inhabitants
near it assert it is an antediluvian structure.

'' The traveller's curiosity is roused, and he prepares to
make a nearer approach, when that curiosity is put upon the
rack by his being assured, that, if he advances, certain genii
who govern the place, by virtue of their supernatural art and
necromancy, will strip it of all its beauties, and, by enchant-
ment, transform the magic walls. The vale seems adapted for
the habitation of such beings ; its gloomy recesses and retire-
ments look like haunts of evil spirits. There was no delusion
in the report ; we were soon convinced of its truth ; for this
piece of antiquity, so venerable and noble in its aspect, as we
drew near changed its figure, and proved no other than a
shaken massive pile of rocks, which stand in the midst of this

236 KOTES TO

little vales disunited from the adjoining mountains, and have
so much the real form and resemblance of a castle, that they
bear the name of the Castle Rocks of St John." — Hut chin -
son's Excursion to the Lakes, p. 121.

The Saxons to subjection hr ought. — P. 128. 1. 10.
Arthur is said to have defeated the Saxons in twelve pitched
battles, and to have achieved the other feats alluded to in the

text.

There Morolt of the iron mace, ^c. — P. 130. 1. 17.
The characters named in the following stanza are aU of them
mote or less distinguished in the romances which treat of King
Arthur and his Round Table, and their names are strung toge-
ther according to the established custom of minstrels upon such
occasions ; for example, in the ballad of the marriage of Sir
Gawaine :

Sir Lancelot, Sir Stephen bolde,

They rode with them that daye,
And, foremost of the company e,

There rode the stewarde Kaye.

Soe did Sir Banier, and Sir Bore,

And eke Sir Garratte keen.
Sir Tristram too, that gentle knight.

To the forest fresh and green.

THE BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN. 237

And Lancelot^ that evermore

Looked stoVn'Wise on the queen,< — P. 131. 1. 10, 11.
. Upon this delicate subject hear Richard Robinson, citizen of
London, in his Assertion of King Arthur :

" But as it is a thing sufficiently apparent that she (Guen-
ever, wife of King Arthur) was beautiful, so it is a thing doubt-
ed whether she was chaste, yea or no. Truly, so far as I can
with honestie, I would spare the impayred honour and fame of
noble women. But yet the truth of the historie pluckes me by
the eere, and willeth me not onely, but commandethme to de-
clare what the ancients have deemed of her. To wrestle or con-
tend with so great authoritie were indeed unto me a controver-
sie, and that greate." — Assertion of King Arthure. Imprinted
ly John Wolfe^ London^ 1582.

There were two who loved their neighlours'* wives ^
And one who loved his own — P. 136. 1. 9, 10.
'^ In our forefathers' tyme, when papistrie, as a standyng
poole, covered and overflowed all England, fewe books were
read in our tongue, savyng certaine bookes of chevalrie, as
they said, for pastime and pleasure ; which, as some say, were
made in the monasteries, by idle monks or wanton chanons.
As one for example, La Morte d"* Arthur e; the whole pleasure
of which book standeth in two speciall poynts, in open man-
slaughter and bold bawdrye ; in which booke they be counted
the noblest knightes that do kill most men without any quar-
rel, and commit fowlest adoulteries by sutlest shiftes ; as Sir

238 NOTES, &c.

Launcelot, with the wife of King Arthur, his master ; Sir
Tristram, with the wife of King Marke, his uncle ; Sir La-
merocke, with the wife of King Lote, that was his own aunt.
This is good stufFe for wise men to laugh at, or honest men to
take pleasure at, yet I know when God's Bible was banished
the court, and La Morte d'Arthure received into the prince's
chamber."— As c H am' s Schoolmaster,

— — valiant Carodac^
Who ivon the cup of gold — Po 136. 1. 13, 14.
See the comic tale of the Boy and the Mantle, in the third
volume of Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry, from the Bre-
ton or Norman original of which Ariosto is supposed to have
taken his Tale of the Enchanted Cup.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

A POEM,

IN SIX CANTOS.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

INTRODUCTION.

There is a mood of mind we all have known^

On drowsy eve, or dark and lowering day.
When the tired spirits lose their sprightly tone.

And nought can chase the lingering hours away*
Dull on our soul falls Fancy's dazzling ray.

And Wisdom holds his steadier torch in vain ;
Obscured the painting seems, mistuned the lay ;

Nor dai'e we of our listless load complain.
For who for sympathy may seek that cannot tell of
pain?

The jolly sportsman knows such drearihood.
When bursts in deluge the autumnal rain,

VOL. V. L

242 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS,

1

Clouding that morn which threats the heath-cock's
brood ;
Of such^ in summer's drought the anglers plain.
Who hope the soft mild southern shower in vain ;

But, more than all, the discontented fair.
Whom father stern, and sterner aunt, restrain
From county-ball, or race occurring rare.
While all her friends around their vestments gay-
prepare.

Ennui ! — or, as our mothers call'd thee. Spleen !

To thee we owe full many a rare device ; —
Thine is the sheaf of painted cards, I ween.
The rolling billiard-ball, the rattling dice.
The turning lathe for framing gimcrack nice ;

The amateur's blotch'd pallet thou may'st claim.
Retort, and airpump, threatening frogs and mice,
(Murders disguised by philosophic name,)
And much of trifling grave, and much of buxom
game.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 243

Then of the books, to catch thy drowsy glance

Compiled, what bard the catalogue may quote !
Plays, poems, novels, never read but once ;—

But not of such the tale fair Edgeworth wrote,
That bears thy name, and is thine antidote !

And not of such the strain my Thomson sung,
Delicious dreams inspiring by his note.

What time to Indolence his harp he strung.
Oh ! might my lay be rank'd that happier list among !

Each hath his refuge whom thy cares assail.

For me, I love my study-fire to trim.
And con right vacantly some idle tale.

Displaying on the couch each listless limb.
Till on the drowsy page the lights grow dim.

And doubtful slumber half supplies the theme ;
While antique shapes of knight and giant grim.

Damsel and dwarf, in long procession gleam.
And the Romancer's tale becomes the Reader's
dream.

244 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

'Tis thus my malady I well may bear^

Albeit outstretcli'd^ like Pope's own Paridel,
Upon the rack of a too-easy chair ;

And find^ to cheat the time, a powerful spell
In old romaunts, of errantry that tell.

Or later legends of the Fairy-folk,
Or oriental tale of Afrite fell.

Of Genii, Talisman, and broad- wing'd Roc,
Though taste may blush and frown, and sober reason
mock.

Oft at such season, too, will rhymes, unsought.

Arrange themselves in some romantic lay ;
The which, as things unfitting graver thought.

Are burnt or blotted on some wiser day. —
These few survive — and, proudly let me say.

Court not the critic's smile, nor dread his frown ;
They well may serve to while an hour away.

Nor does the volume ask for more renown.
Than Ennui's yawning smile, what time she drops it
down.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

CANTO FIRST.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

CANTO FIRST.

List to the valorous deeds that were done

By Harold the Dauntless, Count Witikind's son !

Count Witikind came of a regal strain.
And roved with his Norsemen the land and the main.
Woe to the realms which he coasted ! for there
Was shedding of blood, and rending of hair.
Rape of maiden, and slaughter of priest.
Gathering of ravens and wolves to the feast :
When he hoisted his standard black,
Before him was battle, behind him wrack.

248 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto I.

And he burn'd the churches^ that heathen Dane,
To light his band to their barks again.

II.

On Erin's shores was his outrage known.

The winds of France had his banners blown ;

Little was there to plunder, yet still

His pirates had foray'd on Scottish hill ;

But upon merry England's coast

More frequent he sail'd, for he won the most.

So wide and so far his ravage they knew.

If a sail but gleam'd white 'gainst the welkin blue.

Trumpet and bugle to arms did call.

Burghers hastened to man the wall.

Peasants fled inland his fury to 'scape.

Beacons were lighted on headland and cape.

Bells were toll'd out, and aye as they rung.

Fearful and faintly the grey brothers sung,

*' Bless us, St Mary, from flood and from fire.

From famine and pest, and Count Witikind's ire !" —

Canto I, HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 249

III.

He liked the wealth of fair England so weH^

That he sought in her bosom as native to dwell.

He enter'd the Humber in fearful hour.

And disembarked with his Danish power.

Three Earls came against him with all their train, —

Two hath he taken, and one hath he slain :

Count Witikind left the Humberts rich strand,

And he wasted and warr'd in Northumberland.

But the Saxon King was a sire in age.

Weak in battle, in council sage ;

Peace of that heathen leader he sought.

Gifts he gave, and qui€t he bought ;

And the Coumt took upon him the peaceable stile.

Of a vassal and liegeman of Britain's broad isle*

IV.

Time will rust the sharpest sword.

Time will consume the strongest cord ;

l2

250 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto I.

That which moulders hemp and steely
Mortal arm and nerve must feel.
Of the Danish band, whom Count Witikind led.
Many wax'd aged, and many were dead ;
Himself found his armour full weighty to be^.
Wrinkled his brows grew, and hoary his hair ;
He lean'd on a staff, when his step went abroad.
And patient his palfrey, when steed he bestrode ;
As he grew feebler his wildness ceased.
He made himself peace with prelate and priest.
Made his peace, and, stooping his head.
Patiently listed the counsel they said ;
Saint Cuthbert's Bishop was holy and grave.
Wise and good was the counsel he gave.

V.

^^ Thou hast murder'd, robb'd, and spoiled.
Time it is thy poor soul were assoil'd ;
Priest did'st thou slay, and churches burn^
Time is now to repentance to turn ;

Canto I. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 251

Fiends hast thou worshipped, with fiendish rit«.
Leave now the darkness, and wend into light :
O ! while life and space are given.
Turn thee yet, and think of Heaven !*'—
That stern old heathen his head he raised.
And on the good prelate he stedfastly gazed ;
^^ Give me broad lands on the Wear and the Tyne^,
My faith I will leave, and I'll cleave unto thine/' —

VI.

Broad lands he gave him on Tyne and on Wear,
To be held of the church by bridle and spear ;
Part of Monkwearmouth, of Tynedale part.
To better his will> and to soften his heart :
Count Witikind was a joyful man.
Less for the faith than the lands that he wan.
The high church of Durham is dress'd for the day,
The clergy are rank'd in their solemn array ;
There came the Count, in a bear-skin warm.
Leaning on Hilda his concubine's arm ;

952 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto I.

He kneel'd before Saint Cuthbert's shrine.

With patience unwonted at rites divine ;

He abjured the gods of heathen race.

And he bent his head at the font of grace ;

But such was the griesly old proselyte's look.

That the priest who baptized him grew pale and

shook ;
And the old monks mutter'd beneath their hood,
^^ Of a stem so stubborn can never spring good !"-—

vn.

Up then arose that grim convertite.

Homeward he hied him when ended the rite ;

The prelate in honour will with him ride.

And feast on his castle on Tyne's fair side.

Banners and banderols danced in the wind.

Monks rode before them, and spearmen behind ;

Onward they pass'd, till fairly did shine

Pennon and cross on the bosom of Tyne ;

And full in front did that fortress lour.

In darksome strength, with its buttress and tower ;

Cmto I. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 253

At the castle-gate was young Harold there.
Count Witikind's only offspring and heir.

VIII.

Young Harold was fear'd for his hardihood.

His strength of frame, and his fury of mood ;

Rude he was and wild to behold.

Wore neither collar nor bracelet of gold^

Cap of vair nor rich array,

Such as should grace that festal day r

His doublet of bull's hide was all unbraced.

Uncovered his head, and his sandal unlaced :

His shaggy black locks on his brow hung low.

And his eyes glanced through them a swarthy glow ;

A Danish club in his hand he bore.

The spikes were clotted with recent gore ;

At his back a she-wolf, and her wolf-cubs twain.

In the dangerous chase that morning slain.

Rude was the greeting his father he made.

None to the Bishop, while thus he said :

254 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto J,

IX.

^^ What priest-led hypocrite art thou^
With thy humbled look and thy monkish brow.
Like a shaveling who studies to cheat his vow ?
Can'st thou be Witikind the Waster known.
Royal Eric's fearless son.
Haughty Gunhilda's haughtier lord.
Who won his bride by the axe and sword ;
From the shrine of St Peter the chalice who tore.
And melted to bracelets for Freya and Thor ;
With one blow of his gauntlet who burst the skull.
Before Odin's stone, of the Mountain Bull ?
Then, ye worshipped with rites that to war-gods be-
long.
With the deed of the brave, and the blow of the

strong;
And now, in thine age to dotage sunk.
Wilt thou patter thy crimes to a shaven monk.
Lay down thy mail-shirt for clothing of hair.
Fasting and scourge, like a slave, wilt thou bear ?

Canto L HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 255

Or^ at best^ be admitted in slothful bower

To batten with priest and with paramour ?

O ! out upon thine endless shame !

Each Scald's high harp shall blast thy fame^

And thy son will refuse thee a father's name !"— -

X.

Ireful wax'd old Witikind's look.

His faultering voice with fury shook ;—

^' Hear me, Harold, of harden'd heart !

Stubborn and wilful ever thou wert.

Thine outrage insane I command thee to cease.

Fear my wrath and remain at peace :—

Just is the debt of repentance I've paid.

Richly the church has a recompence made.

And the truth of her doctrines I prove with my blade.

But reckoning to none of my actions I owe.

And least to my son such accounting will show.

Why speak I to thee of repentance or truth.

Who ne'er from thy childhood knew reason or ruth ?

256 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto I.

Hence ! to the wolf and the bear in her den ;
These are thy mates^ and not rational men/'—

XI.

Grimly smiled Harold, and coldly replied,

^' We must honour our sires, if we fear when they

chide.
For me, I am yet what thy lessons have made,
I was rock'd in a buckler and fed from a blade ;
An infant, was taught to clap hands and to shout.
From the roofs of the tower when the flame had

broke out ;
In the blood of slain foemen my finger to dip.
And tinge with its purple my cheek and my lip. — .
'Tis thou know'st not truth, that has bartered in eld.
For a price, the brave faith that thine ancestors held.
When this wolf," — and the carcase he flung on the

plain, —
'^ Shall awake and give food to her nurslings again.
The face of his father will Harold review ;
Till then, aged Heathen, young Christian, adieu !"— *

Canto L HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 257

XII.
Priest, monk, and prelate, stood aghast.
As through the pageant the heathen pass'd.
A cross-bearer out of his saddle he flung.
Laid his hand on the pummel and into it sprung ;
Loud was the shriek, and deep the groan.
When the holy sign on the earth was thrown !
The fierce old Count unsheathed his brand.
But the calmer Prelate stay'd his hand ;
'^ Let him pass free ! — Heaven knows its hour.-—
But he must own repentance's power.
Pray and weep, and penance bear.
Ere he hold land by the Tyne and the Wear."—
Thus in scorn and in wrath from his father is gone
Young Harold the Dauntless, Count Witikind's son.

XIIL
High was the feasting in Witikind's hall,
Reveird priests, soldiers, and pagans, and all ;

258 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Cmto I.

And even the good Bishop was fain to endure
The scandal which time and instruction might cure :
It were dangerous, he deem'd, at the first to restrain.
In his wine and his wassail, a half-christen'd Dane.
The mead flow'd around, and the ale was drained dry.
Wild was the laughter, the song, and the cry ;
With Kyrie Eleisen came clamorously in
The war-songs of Danesman, Norweyan, and Finn,
Till man after man the contention gave o'er,
Outstretch'd on the rushes that strew'd the hall-floor;
And the tempest within, having ceased its wild rout.
Gave place to the tempest that thunder'd without.

XIV.
Apart from the wassail, in turret alone.
Lay flaxen-hair'd Gunhar, old Ermengarde's son ;
In the train of Lord Harold the page was the first.
For Harold in childhood had Ermengarde nursed ;
And grieved was young Gunnar his master should

roam.
Unhoused and unfriended, an exile from home*

Canto I. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 259

He heard the deep thunder, the plashing of rain.
He saw the red lightning through shot-hole and pane;
^^ And oh r said the page, " on the shelterless wold
Lord Harold is wandering in darkness and cold !
What though he was stubborn, and wayward, and wild.
He endured me because I was Ermengarde's child.
And often from dawn till the set of the sun.
In the chase, by his stirrup, unchidden I run :
I would I were older and knighthood could bear,
I would soon quit the banks of the Tyne and the

Wear;
For my mother's command with her last parting

breath.
Bade me follow her nursling in life and to death.

XV.
^^ It poui-s and it thunders, it lightens amain.
As if Lok, the Destroyer, had burst from his chain !
Accursed by the church, and expell'd by his sire.
Nor Christian nor Dane give him shelter or fire.

260 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto I.

And this tempest what mortal may houseless endure ?
Unaided, unmantled, he dies on the moor !
Whatever comes of Gunnar he tarries not here." —
He leapt from his couch and he grasp'd to his spear.
Sought the hall of the feast. LFndisturb'd by his tread.
The wassailers slept fast as the sleep of the dead :
^^ Ungrateful and bestial Y\ his anger broke forth,
*^ To forget *mid your goblets the pi ide of the North !
And you, ye cowl'd priests, who have plenty in store.
Must give Gunnar for ransom a palfrey and ore."—

XVI.

Then heeding full little of ban or of curse.
He has seiz'd on the Prior of Jorvaux's purse :
Saint Meneholt's Abbot next morning has miss'd
His mantle, deep furr'd from the cape to the wrist :
The seneschal's keys from his belt he has ta*en,
(Well drenched on that eve was old Hildebrand's

brain.)
To the stable-yard he made his way.
And mounted the Bishop's palfrey gay.

Canto I. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 261

Castle and hamlet behind him has cast.

And right' on his way to the moorland has pass'd.

Sore snorted the palfrey, unused to face

A weather so wild at so rash a pace ;

So long he snorted, so loud he neigh'd.

There answered a steed that was bound beside.

And the red flash of lightning shew'd there where lay

His master. Lord Harold, outstretched on the clay.

xvn.

Up he started, and thunder'd out, ^* Stand !"

And raised the club in his deadly hand.

The flaxen-hair*d Gunnar his purpose told,

Shew'd the palfrey and proffer'd the gold.

'^ Back, back, and home, thou simple boy !

Thou can'st not share my grief or joy :

Have I not mark'd thee wail and cry ^

When thou hast seen a sparrow die ?

And can'st thou, as my follower should.

Wade ancle-deep through foemen's blood.

262 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Cmiol.

Dare mortal and immortal foe.

The gods above, the fiends below.

And man on earth, more hated still.

The very fountain-head of ill ?

Desperate of life, and careless of death.

Lover of bloodshed, and slaughter, and scathe.

Such must thou be with me to roam.

And such thou can'st not be — ^back, and home !"—

XVIII.

Young Gunnar shook like an aspen bough.

As he heard the harsh voice and beheld the dark

brow.
And half he repented his purpose and vow.
But now to draw back were bootless shame.
And he loved his master, so urged his claim :
^ Alas ! if my arm and my courage be weak.
Bear with me a while for old Ermengarde's sake ;
Nor deem so lightly of Gunnar's faith.
As to fear he M^ould break it for peril of death.

Cmto L HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 263

Have I not risk'd it to fetch thee this gold.
This surcoat and mantle to fence thee from cold ?
And, did I bear a baser mind.
What lot remains if I stay behind ?
The priests' revenge, thy father's wrath,
A dungeon and a shameful death."—

XIX.

With gentler look Lord Harold eyed

The page, then turn'd his head aside ;

And either a tear did his eye-lash stain.

Or it caught a drop of the passing rain.

^^ Art thou an outcast then ?" quoth he,

" The meeter page to follow me."-*—

'Twere bootless to tell what climes they sought.

Ventures achieved, and battles fought ;

How oft with few, how oft alone.

Fierce Harold's arm the field hath won.

Men swore his eye, that flash'd so red

When each other glance was quench'd with dread.

264 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto I,

Bore oft a light of deadly flame

That ne'er from mortal courage came.

Those limbs so strong, that mood so stern.

That loved the couch of heath and fern.

Afar from hamlet, tower, and town.

More than to rest on driven down ;

That stubborn frame, that sullen mood.

Men deem'd must come of aught but good ;

And they whisper'd, the great Master Fiend was at

one
With Harold the Dauntless, Count Witikind's son.

XX.

Years after years had gone and fled.

The good old Prelate lies lapp'd in lead ;

In the chapel still is shown

His sculptured form on a marble stone.

With staflf and ring and scapulaire.

And folded hands in the act of prayer.

Saint Cuthbert's mitre is resting now

On the haughty Saxon, bold Aldingar's brow ;

5

Cantor. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 265

The power of his crozier he loved to extend

O'er whatever would break or whatever would bend :

And now hath he clothed him in cope and in pall.

And the Chapter of Durham has met at his call.

^' And hear ye not, brethren/' the proud Bishop said,

^^ That our vassal, the Danish Count Witikind,'s dead?

All his gold and his goods bath he given

To holy church for the love of heaven.

And hath founded a chantry with stipend and dole.

That priests and that beadsmen may pray for his soul:

Harold his son is wandering abroad.

Dreaded by man and abhorred by God ;

Meet it is not, that such should heir

The lands of the church on the Tyne and the Weai* ;

And at her pleasure, her hallow'd hands

May now resume these wealthy lands/' —

XXL

Answered good Eustace, a canon old,

" Harold is tameless, and furious, and bold ;

VOL. V. M

266 IIAUOLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto I,

Ever renown blows a note of fame,

And a note of fear, when she sounds his name ;

Much of bloodshed and much of scathe

Have been their lot who have waked his wrath.

Leave him these lands and lordships still.

Heaven in its hour may change his will ;

But if reft of gold^ and of living bare.

An evil counsellor is despair." —

More had he said, but the Prelate frown'd.

And murmur'd his brethren who sate around.

And with one consent have they given their doom.

That the church should the lands of Saint Cuthbert

resume.
So wiird the Prelate ; and canon and dean
Gave to his judgment their loud amen.

END OF CANTO FIRST.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS

CANTO SECOND.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

CANTO SECOND.

'Tis merry in greenwood, thus runs the old lay^
In the gladsome month of lively May,
When the wild birds' song on stem and spray

Invites to forest bower ;
Then rears the ash his airy crest.
Then shines the birch in silver vest.
And the beach in. glistening leaves is dress'dy
And dark between shews the oak's proud breast^,^

Like a chieftain's frowning tower ;
Though a thousand branches join their screen^
Yet the broken sun-beams glance between^
And tip the leaves with lighter green.

With brighter tints the flower :

270 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto IT.

Dull is the heart that loves not then
The deep recess of the wild-wood glen.
Where roe and red-deer find sheltering den.
When the sun is in his power.

II.

Less merry, perchance, is the fading leaf
That follows so soon on the gathered sheaf.

When the green-wood loses the name ;
Silent is then the forest bound.
Save the red-breast's note, and the rustling sound
Of frost-nipt leaves that are dropping round.
Or the deep-mouth'd cry of the distant hound

That opens on his game ;
Yet then, too, I love the forest wide.
Whether the sun in splendour ride
And gild its many-colour'd side ;
Or whether the soft and silvery haze.
In vapoury folds, o'er the landscape strays.
And half involves the woodland maze.

Like an early widow's veil.

Canto II. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 271

Where wimpling tissue from the gaze
The form half hides and half betrays^
Of beauty wan and pale.

lU.

Fair Metelill was a woodland maid^
Her father a rover of green- wood shade^
By forest statutes, undismayed.

Who lived by bow and quiver.
Well known was Wulfstane's archery.
By merry Tyne both on moor and lea.
Through wooded Wear dale's glens so free.
Well beside Stanhope's wild-wood tree.

And well on Ganlesse river.
Yet free though he trespass'd on woodland game.
More known and more fear'd was the wizard fame
Of Jutta of Rookhope, the Outlaw's dame ;
Fear'd when she frown'd was her eye of flame.

More fear'd when in wrath she laugh'd ;

272 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto 1 1,

For then,, 'twas said^ more fatal true
To its dread aim her spell- glance flew^.
Than when from Wulfstane's bended yew
Sprung forth the grey-goose shaft.

IV.

Yet had thi& fierce and dreaded pair^
So Heaven decreed, a daughter fair f

None brighter crown'd the bed.
In Britain's bounds, of peer or prince.
Nor hath, perchance, a lovelier since

In this fair isle been bred.
And nought of fraud, or ire, or ill.
Was known to gentle Metelill,

A simple maiden she ;
The spells in dimpled smiles that lie.
And a downcast blush, and the darts that flv
With the sidelong glance of a hazel eye.

Were her arms and witchery

Canto IL HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 273

So young, so simple was she yet.

She scarce could childhood's joys forget.

And still she loved, in secret set

Beneath the green-wood tree.
To plait the rushy coronet.
And braid with flowers her locks of jet.

As when in infancy ; —
Yet could that heart, so simple, prove
The early dawn of stealing love :

Ah ! gentle maid, beware !
The power who, now so mild a guest.
Gives dangerous yet delicious zest
To the calm pleasures of thy breast.
Will soon, a tyrant o'er the rest.

Let none his empire share-.

V.

One morn in kirtle green array 'd.
Deep in the wood the maiden stray'd.
And, where a fountain sprung,
M 2

274 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto II.

She sate her down^ unseen^ to thread
The scarlet berry's mimic braid ;

And while her beads she strung.
Like the blithe lark, whose carol gay
Gives a good-morrow to the day.

So lightsomely she sung.

VI.

'^ Lord William was born in gilded bower.
The heir of Wilton's lofty tower ;
Yet better loves Lord William now
To roam beneath wild Rookhope's brow ;
And William has lived where ladies fair
With gawds and jewels deck their hair.
Yet better loves the dew-drops still
That pearl the locks of Metelill.

^^ The pious Palmer loves, I wis.
Saint Cuthbert's hallow'd beads to kiss ;

Cmto II. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 275

But I, though simple girl I be^
Might have such homage paid to me ;
For did Lord William see me suit
This necklace of the bramble's fruit.
He fain — but must not have his will,-—
Would kiss the beads of Metelill.

'^ My nurse ha& told me many a tale.
How vows of love are weak and frail ;
My mother says that courtly youth
By rustic maid means seldom sooth.
What should they mean ? it cannot be,^
That such a warning's meant for me.
For nought — oh ! nought of fraud or ill
Can William mean to Metelill !" —

vn.

Sudden she stops — and starts to feel
A weighty hand, a glove of steel.
Upon her shrinking shoulders laid ;
Fearful she turn'd, and saw, dismay'd.

276 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto I L

A Kniglit in plate and mail array'd.
His crest and bearing worn and fray'd.

His surcoat soil'd and riven,
Form'd like that giant race of yore.
Whose long-continued crimes out-wore

The suiFerance of heaven.
Stern accents made his pleasure known.
Though then he used his gentlest tone :
" Maiden/' he said, ^^ sing forth thy glee.
Start not — sing on— it pleases me."

VHI.
Secured within his powerful hold.
To bend her knee, her hands to fold.

Was all the maiden might;
And ^^ Oh ! forgive,'* she faintly said,
'^ The terrors of a simple maid.

If thou art mortal wight !
But if— of such strange tales are told, —
Unearthly warrior of the wold.
Thou com'st to chide mine accents bold.

Canto 11. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 277

My mother^ Jutta^ knows the spell.
At noon and midnight pleasing well

The disembodied ear;
Oh ! let her powerful charms atone
For aught my rashness may have done.

And cease thy grasp of fear."
Then laugh'd the Knight — ^his laughter's sound
Half in the hollow helmet drown'd ;
His barred vizor then he raised,
And steady on the maiden gazed.
He smoothed his brows, as best he might.
To the dread calm of autumn night.

When sinks the tempest's roar ;
Yet still the cautious fishers eye
The clouds, and fear the gloomy sky.

And haul their barks on shore*

IX.

^^ Damsel/* he said, ^' be wise, and learn
Matters of weight and deep concern :

278 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto II,

From distant realms I come^,
And^ wanderer long, at length have plann'd
In this my native Northern land

To seek myself a home.
Nor that alone — a mate I seek ;
She must be gentle, soft, and meek, —

No lordly dame for me ;
Myself am something rough of mood.
And feel the fire of royal blood,
And therefore do not hold it good

To match in my degree.
Then, since coy maidens say my face
Is harsh, my form devoid of grace.
For a fair lineage to provide,
Tis meet that my selected bride

In lineaments be fair ;
I love thine well — till now I ne'er
Look'd patient on a face of fear.
But now that tremulous sob and tear

Become thy beauty rare.

Canto II. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 279

One kiss— nay, damsel, coy it not :
And now go seek thy parents* cot.
And say, a bridegroom soon I come.
To woo my love and bear her home/'

X.

Home sprung the maid without a pause.
As leveret 'scaped from greyhoimd's jaws ;
But still she lock'd, howe'er distressed.
The secret in her boding breast ;
Dreading her sire, who oft forbade
Her steps should stray to distant glade.
Night came — to her accustom'd nook
Her distaff aged Jutta took.
And by the lamp's imperfect glow.
Rough Wulfstane trimm'd his shafts and bow.
Sudden and clamorous, from the ground
Upstarted slumbering brach and hound ;
Loud knocking next the lodge alarms.
And Wulfstane snatches at his arms.

280 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto II.

When opening flew the yielding door.
And that grim Warrior pressed the floor.

XI.
" All peace be here — What ! none replies ?
Dismiss your fears and. your surprise.
'Tis I — that maid hath told my tale^ —
Or, trembler, did thy courage fail ?
It recks not — it is I demand.
Fair Metelill in marriage band ;
Harold the Dauntless I, whose name
Is brave men's boast and caitiff^s* shame." —
The parents sought each other's eyes.
With awe, resentment, and surprise :
Wulfstane, to quarrel prompt, began
The stranger's size and thewes to scan ;
But as he scann'd, his courage sunk.
And from unequal strife he shrunk.
Then forth, to blight and blemish, flies
The harmful curse from Jutta's eyes ;.

CmtoII. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 281

Yet fatal howsoe'er, the spell
On Harold innocently fell !
And disappointment and amaze
Were in the witch's wilder'd gaze.

XII.

But soon the wit of woman woke^

And to the Warrior mild she spoke :

'^ Her child was all too young." — '^ A toy,

The refuge of a maiden coy." —

Again, '^ A powerful baron's heir

Claims in her heart an interest fair.^' — *

^^ A trifle — whisper in his ear.

That Harold is a suitor here !"

Baffled at length she sought delay :

'^ Would not the Knight till morning stay ?

Late was the hour — he there might rest

Till morn, their lodge's honour'd guest."

Such were her words,- — her craft might cast^

Her honour'd guest should sleep his last :

S82 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto I L

^' No, not to-night — but soon," he swore,
^^ He would return, nor leave them more." —
The threshold then his huge stride crost.
And soon he was in darkness lost.

XIII.

Appaird awhile the parents stood.
Then changed their fear to angry mood.
And foremost fell their words of ill
On unresisting Metelill :
Was she not caution' d and forbid.
Forewarned, implored, accused, and chid.
And must she still to greenwood roam.
To marshal such misfortune home ?
^^ Hence, minion — ^to thy chamber hence.
There prudence learn and penitence."
She went — her lonely couch to steep
In tears which absent lovers weep ;
Or if sL e gain'd a troubled sleep.

\:antoII. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 283

Fierce Harold's suit was still the theme
And terror of her feverish dream.

XIV.
Scarce was she gone, her dame and sire
Upon each other bent their ire ;
^^ A woodsman thou, and hast a spear.
And couldst thou such an insult bear ?"
Sullen he said, " A man contends
With men, a witch with sprites and fiends ;
Not to mere mortal wight belong
Yon gloomy brow and frame so strong.
But thou — is this thy promise fair.
That your Lord William, wealthy heir
To Ulrick, Baron of Witton-le-wear,
Should Metelill to altar bear ?
Do all the spells thou boast'st as thine
Serve but to slay some peasant's kine.
His grain in autumn-storms to steep.
Or thorough fog and fen to sweep,
And hag-ride some poor rustic's sleep ?

284 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto IL

Is such mean miscliief worth the fame
Of sorceress and witch's name ?
Fam^, which with all men's wish conspires.
With thy deserts and my desires.
To damn thy corpse to penal fires ?
Out on thee, witch ! aroint ! aroint !
What now shall put thy schemes in joint ?
What save this, trusty arrow's point.
From the dark dingle when it flies.
And he who meets it gasps and dies." — ^

XV.

Stern she replied, " I will not wage

War with thy folly or thy rage ;

But ere the morrow's sun be low,

Wulfstane of Ro(^hope> thou shalt knmTj,

If I can venge me on a foe.

Believe the while, that whatsoe'er

1 spoke, in ire, of bow and spear.

It is not Harold's destiny

The death of pilfer'd deer to die.

'ante II. HAUOLD THE DAUNTLESS. 285

But he^ and thou^ and yon pale moon.
That shall be yet more pallid soon.
Before she sink behind the dell.
Thou, she, and Harold too, shall tell
What Jutta knows of charm or spell." —
Thus muttering, to the door she bent
Her wajrw^ard steps, and forth she went.
And left alone the moody sire.
To cherish or to slake his ire.

XVI*

Far faster than belonged to age.
Has Jutta made her pilgrimage.
A priest has met her as she pass'd.
And cross'd himself and stood aghast :
She traced a hamlet — ^not a cur
His throat would ope, his foot would stir ;
By crouch, by trembling, and by groan.
They made her hated presence known !
But when she trode the sable fell.

286 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto II.

Were wilder sounds her way to tell, —
For far was heard the fox's yell.
The black-cock waked and faintly crew.
Screamed o'er the moss the scared curlew ;
Where o'er the cataract the oak
Lay slant, was heard the raven's croak ;
The mountain-cat which sought his prey.
Glared, scream'd, and started from her way.
Such music cheer 'd her journey lone
To the deep dell and rocking stone :
There, with unhallow'd hymn of praise.
She called a God of heathen days.

XVII.

From thy Pomeranian throne.
Hewn in rock of living stone.
Where, to thy godhead faithful yet.
Bend Esthonian, Finn, and Lett,
And their swords in vengeance whef.

Canto II, HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 287

That shall make thine altars wet.
Wet and red for ages more
With the Christians' hated gore, —
Hear me ! Sovereign of the Rock,
Hear me, mighty Zernebock.

Mightiest of the mighty known.
Here thy wonders have been shown ;
Hundred tribes in various tongue
Oft have here thy praises sung ;
Down that stone with runick seam'd
Hundred victims* blood hath streamed !
Now one woman comes alone.
And but wets it with her ovna.
The last, the feebUst of thy floek,—
Hear— and be present, Zernebock I

Hark ! he comes ; the night-blast cold
Wilder sweeps along the wold ;

288 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto II.

Tlie cloudless moon grows dark and dim.
And bristling hair and quaking limb
Proclaim the Master Demon nigh_, —
Those who view his form shall die !
Lo ! I stoop and veil my head.—
Thou who ridest the tempest dread^
Shaking hill and rending oak —
Spare me ! spare me ! Zernebock.

He comes not yet ! Shall cold delay

Thy votaress at her need repay ?

Thou — shall I call thee god or fiend ? —

Let others on thy mood attend

With prayer and ritual — Jutta's arms

Are necromantic words and charms :

Mine is the spell^ that, utter'd once.

Shall wake Thy Master from his trance,

Shake his red mansion-house of pain.

And burst his seven-times twisted chain,

5

Canton. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 289

So ! com'st thou ere the spell is spoke ?
I own thy presence^ Zernebock.

XVIII.
^^ Daughter of dust," the Deep Voice said,
—Shook while it spoke the vale for dread,
Rock'd on the base that massive stone.
The Evil Deity to own, —
^^ Daughter of dust ! not mine the power
Thou seek'st on Harold's fatal hour.
*Twixt heaven and hell there is a strife
Waged for his soul and for his life,
And fain would we the combat win.
And snatch him in his hour of sin.
There is a star now rising red.
That threats him with an influence dread :
Woman, thine arts of malice whet.
To use the space before it set.
Involve him with the church in strife.
Push on adventurous chance his life ;

VOL. V. N

290 HAROLD THE DACNTLESS. Canto II.

Ourself will in the hour of need.

As best we may, thy counsels speed."—

So ceased the Voice ; for seven leagues round

Each hamlet started at the sound ;

But slept again, as slowly died

Its thunders on the hill's brown side.

XIX.

^^ And is this all/' said Jutta stern,
^^ That thou canst teach and I can learn ?
Hence ! to the land of fog and waste I
There fittest is thine influence placed.
Thou powerless sluggish Deity !
But ne'er shall Briton bend the knee
Again before so poor a god." —
She struck the altar with her rod ;
Slight was the touch, as when at need
A damsel stirs her tardy steed ;
But to the blow the stone gave place.
And, starting from its balanced base.

Canto II. HAROLD THE DAUNLTESS. 291

Roird thundering down the moon-light dell^«*-
Re-echo*d moorland, rock, and fell;
Into the moon-light tarn it dash'd.
Their shores the sounding surges lash'd,
And there was ripple, rage, and foam ;
But on that lake, so dark and lone.
Placid and pale the moon-beam shone
As Jutta hied her home.

END OF CANTO SECOND.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

CANTO THIRD.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

CANTO THIRD.

I.

Grey towers of Durham ! there was once a time

I view'd your battlements with such vague hope
As brightens life in its first dawning prime;

Not that e'en then came within fancy's scope
A vision vain of mitre, throne, or cope ;

Yet, gazing on the venerable hall.
Her flattering dreams would in perspective ope

Some reverend room, some prebendary's stall,-—
And thus Hope me deceived as she deceiveth all.

296 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto III.

Well yet I love thy mix'd and massive piles,

Half church of God, half castle 'gainst the Scot,
And long to roam these venerable aisles.

With records stored of deeds long since forgot !
There might I share my Surtees' happier lot.

Who leaves at will his patrimonial field
To ransack every crypt and hallow'd spot.

And from oblivion rend the spoils they yield.
Restoring priestly chaunt and clang of knightly shield.

Vain is the wish — since other cares demand

Each vacant hour, and in another clime ;
But still that northern harp invites my hand.

Which tells the wonder of thine earlier time ;
And fain its numbers would I now command.

To paint the beauties of thy dawning fair.
When Harold, gazing from its lofty stand

Upon the western heights of Beaurepaire,
Saw Saxon Eadmer's towers begirt by winding Wear.

Canto III. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 297

II.

Fair on the half-seen streams the sunbeams danced.

Betraying it beneath the woodland bank.
And fair between the Gothic turrets glanced

Broad lights, and shadows fell on front and flank.
Where tower and buttress rose in martial rank.

And girdled in the massive donjon Keep,
And fronj their circuit peal'd o'er bush and bank

The mattin bell with summons long and deep.
And echo answer'd still with long-resounding sweep.

III.

The morning mists rose from the ground.
Each merry bird awaken'd round.

As if in revelry ;
Afar the bugles' clanging sound
Caird to the chase the lagging hound ;

The gale breath'd soft and free.
And seem'd to linger on its way
To catch fresh odours from the spray,
n2

298 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto Til.

And waved it in its wanton play-
So light and gamesomely.
The scenes which morning beams reveaJ^
Its sounds to hear, its gales to feel
In all their fragrance round him steal.
It melted Harold's heart of steel;,

And, hardly wotting why.
He doff'd his helmet's gloomy pride.
And hung it on a tree beside.

Laid mace and falchion by.
And on the green swatrd sate him down.
And from his dark habitual frown

Relax'd his rugged brow—
Whoever hath the doubtful task
From that stern Dane a boon to ask.
Were wise to ask it now.

IV.

His place beside young Gunnar took.
And mark'd his master's softening look.

Canto III, HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS, 299

And in his eye's dark mirror spied
The gloom of stormy thought subside,
And cautious watch'd the fittest tide

To speak a warning word.
So when the torrent's billoM^s shrink.
The timid pilgrim on the brink
Waits long to see them wave and sink.

Ere he dare brave the ford^
And often, after doubtful pause.
His step advances or withdraws :
Fearful to move the slumbering ire
Of his stern lord, thus stood the squire.

Till Harold raised his eye.
That glanced as when athwart the shroud
Of the dispersing tempest-cloud

The bursting sunbeams fly.

v.

" Arouse thee, son of Ermengarde,
Offspring of prophetess and bard !

300 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto III,

Take harp, and greet this lovely prime
With some high strain of Runic rhyme.
Strong, deep, and powerful ! Peal it round
Like that loud bell's sonorous sound.
Yet wild by fits, as when the lay
Of bird and bugle hail the day.
Such was my grandsire Erick's sport.
When dawn gleam'd on his martial court.
Heymar the Scald, with harp's high sound.
Summoned the chiefs who slept around ;
Couch'd on the spoils of wolf and bear.
They roused like lions from their lair.
Then rush'd in emulation forth
To enhance the glories of the north.~
Proud Erick, mightiest of thy race.
Where is thy shadowy resting-place }
In wild Valhalla hast thou quaff'd
From foeman's skull metheglin draught.
Or wander'st where thy cairn was piled.
To frown o'er oceans wide and wild ?

Canto III. HAKOLD THE DAUNTLESS. 301

Or have the milder Christians given
Thy refuge in their peaceful heaven ?
Where'er thou art^ to thee are known
Our toils endured, our trophies won.
Our wars, our wanderings, and our woes."—
He ceased, and Gunnar's song arose^

VI.

'^ Hawk and osprey scream'd for joy
O'er the beetling cliffs of Hoy,
Crimson foam the beach o'erspread.
The heath was dyed with darker red.
When o'er Erick, Inguar's son,
Dane and Northman piled the stone ;
Singing wild the war-song stern.
Rest thee. Dweller of the Cairn !

^^ Where eddying currents foam and boil
By Bersa's burgh and Graemsay's isle.

302 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto JIL

The seaman, sees a martia! form
Half-mingled with the mist and storm.
In anxious awe he bears away
To moor his bark in Stromna's bay.
And: murmurs from, the bounding stern,
^ Rest thee. Dweller of the Cairn T

^^ What cares disturb the mighty dead ?
Each honoured rite was duly paid ;
No daring hand thy helm unlaced,
Thy sword, thy shield, were ne.ar thee placed.
Thy flinty couch no tear profaned.
Without, with hostile blood 'twas stain'd;
Within, 'twas lined with moss and fern, —
Then rest thee. Dweller of the Gairn !

'^ He may not rest : from realms afar
Comes voice of battle and of war.
Of conquest wrought with bloody hand
On Carmel's cliffs and Jordan's strand.

:antO III. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 303

When Odin's warlike son could daunt
The turban'd race of Termagaunt— — '*

VII.
" Peace/' said the Knight, ^^ the noble Scald
Our warlike fathers' deeds recall'd.
But never strove to sooth the son
With tales of what himself had done.
At Odin's board the bard sits high
Whose harp ne'er s,toop'd to flattery ;
But highest he whose daring lay
Hath dared unwelcome truths to say."—.
With doubtful smile young Gunnar eyed
His master'^ looks, and nought replied— »
But well that smile his master led
To construe what he left unsaid.
^^ Is it to me, thou timid youth.
Thou fear'st to speak unwelcome truth ?
My soul no more thy censure grieves
Than frosts rob laurels of their leaves.

304 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto IIL

Say onr-ahd yet — ^beware the rude

And wild distemper of my blood ;

Loth were I that mine ire should wrong

The youth that bore my shield so long.

And who, in service constant still.

Though weak in frame, art strong in will/'— .

*^ Oh !" quoth the page, ^^ even there depends

My counsel — there my warning tends.

Oft seems as of my master's breast

Some demon were the sudden guest ;

Then at the first misconstrued word

His hand is on the mace and sword.

From her firm seat his wisdom driven.

His life to countless dangers given.—

O ! would that Gunnar could suffice

To be the fiend's last sacrifice.

So that, when glutted with my gore.

He fled and tempted thee no more !"

Canto III. HAEOLD THE DAUNTLESS. 305

VIII.

Then waved his hand, and shook his head.
The impatient Dane, while thus he said :
'^ Profane not, youth — it is not thine
To judge the spirit of our line-—
The bold Berserkar's rage divine.
Through whose inspiring, deeds are wrought
Past human strength and human thought.
When full upon his gloomy soul
The champion feels the influence roll.
He swims the lake, he leaps the wall-
Heeds not the depth, nor plumbs the fall-
Unshielded, mail-less, on he goes
Singly against a host of foes ;
Their spears he holds like wither'd reeds.
Their mail like maiden's silken weeds ;
One 'gainst a hundred will he strive.
Take countless wounds, and yet survive.

306 HAIIOLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto III.

Then rush the eagles to his cry

Of slaughter and of victory, —

And blood he quaffs like Odin's bowl,

Deep drinks his sword, — deep drinks his soul ;

And all that meet him in his ire

He gives to ruin, rout, and fire.

Then, like gorged lion, seeks some den.

And couches till he's man agen —

Thou know'st the signs of look and limb.

When 'gins that rage to over-brim—

Thou know'st when I am moved, and why ;

And when thou seest me roll mine eye.

Set my teeth thus and stamp my foot.

Regard thy safety and be mute ;

But else, speak boldly out whate'er

Is fitting that a knight should hear.

I love thee, youth. Thy lay has power

Upon my dark and sullen hour ; —

So, Christian monks are wont to say.

Demons of old were charm'd away ; —

Vanto IJI. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS, 307

Then fear not I will rashly deem

111 of thy speech, whate'er the theme."—

IX.

As down some strait in doubt and dread
The watchful pilot drops the lead.
And, cautious in the midst to steer.
The shoaling channel sounds with fear ;
So, lest on dangerous ground he swerved.
The page his master's brow observed.
Pausing at intervals to fling
His hand on the melodious string.
And to his moody breast apply
The soothing charm of harmony.
While hinted half, and half exprest.
This warning song convey'd the rest*

1.

^^ 111 fares the bark with tackle riven^
And ill when on the breakers driven,— •

308 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto Ilh

111 when the storm-sprite shrieks in air.
And the scared mermaid tears her hair ;
But worse when on her helm the hand
Of some false traitor holds command.

2.

'^ 111 fares the fainting Palmer, placed
'Mid Hebron's rocks or llama's wastes-
Ill when the scorching sun is high.
And the expected font is dry,—
Worse when his guide o'er sand and heath.
The barbarous Copt, has plann'd his death.

'' 111 fares the knight with buckler cleft.
And ill when of his helm bereft,—
111 when his steed to earth is flung.
Or from his grasp his falchion wrung ;
But worse, of instant ruin token.
When he lists rede by woman spoken."—

Canto III. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 309

X.

'^ How now, fond boy ?*-»Canst thou think ill/'
Said Harold, '' of fair Metelill ?"—
'^ She may be feir," the page replied, j

As through the strings he ranged,—
^' She may be fair ; but yet,"— he cried.

And then the strain he changed.'

" She may be fair,*^ he sang, " but yet

Far fairer have I seen
Than she, for all her locks of jet,

And eyes so dark and sheen.
Were I a Danish knight in arms.

As one day I may be.
My heart should own no foreign charmSj

A Danish maid for me.

310 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto III.

2.
^^ I love -my father's northern land.

Where the dark pine-trees grow.
And the bold Baltic's echoing strand

Looks o'er each grassy oe.*
I love to mark the lingering sun.

From Denmark loth to go.
And leaving on the billows bright.
To cheer the short-lived summer night,

A path of ruddy glow.

^ But most the northern maid I love.

With breast like Denmark's snow.
And form as fair as Denmark's pine.
Who loves with purple heath to twine
Her locks of sunny glow;

* Oe. Island.

Canto III. HAROLD THE DAUNTLES&e 311

And sweetly blends that shade of 'gold

With the cheek's rosy]_hue.
And Faith might for her mirror hold

That eye of matchless blue.

<
^^ *Tis her's th^ manly sports to love

That southern maidens fear,
To bend the bow by stream and grove.

And lift the hunter's spear.
She can her chosen champion's fight

With eye undazzled see.
Clasp him victorious from the strife,
Or on his corpse yield tip her life,—

A Danish maid for me !"

X.

Then smiled the Dane — " Thou canst so well
The virtues of our maidens tell.

31 2 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto III.

Half could I wish my choice had been

Blue eyes^ and hair of golden sheen.

And lofty soul ; — ^yet what of ill

Hast thou to charge on Metelill ?"—

^^ On her nought/' young Gunnar said,

'^ But her base sire's ignoble trade.

Her mother, too — the general fame

Hath given to Jutta evil name.

And in her grey eye is a flame

Art cannot hide, nor fear can tame.—

That sordid woodman's peasant cot

Twice have thine honoured footsteps sought.

And twice returned with such ill rede

As sent thee on some desperate deed/*—

XI.

^^ Thou errest ; Jutta wisely said.

He that comes suitor to a maid.

Ere link'd in marriage, should provide

Lands and a dwelling for his bride—
12

Canto III. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 313

My father's by the Tyne and Wear

I have reclaim'd/' — '^ O, all too dear.

And all too dangerous the prize.

E'en were it won/' — ^yoiing Gunnar cries.

^^ And then this Jutta's fresh device.

That thou should'st seek, a heathen Dane,

From Durham's priests a boon to gain.

When thou hast left their vassals slain

In their own halls !" — Flash'd Harold's eye,

Thunder'd his voice — '' False page, you lie !

The castle, hall and tower, is mine.

Built by old Witikind on Tyne.

The wild-cat will defend his den.

Fights for her nest the timid wren ;

And think'st thou I'll forego my right

For dread of monk or monkish knight ? —

Up and away, that deepening bell

Doth of the Bishop's conclave tell.

Thither will I, in manner due.

As Jutta bade, my claim to sue ;
VOL. v. o

314 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto III,

And if to right me they are loth,
Then woe to church and chapter both !"

Now shift the scene and let the curtain fall.
And our next entry be Saint Cuthbert*s hall.

END OF CANTO THIRD.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS

CANTO FOURTH.

I

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS,

CANTO FOURTH.

I.

Full many a bard hath sung the solemn gloom

Of the long Gothic aisle and stone-ribb'd roof^
Cer-canopying shrine, and gorgeous tomb,

Carved screen, and altar glimmering far aloof.
And blending with the shade — a matchless proof

Of high devotion, which hath now wax'd cold ;
Yet legends say, that Luxury's brute hoof

Intruded oft within such sacred fold.
Like step of Bel's false priest, track'd in his fane of
old.

Well pleased am I, howe'er, that when the route
Of our rude neighbours whilome deign'd to come.

318 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto IV.

Uncaird, and eke unwelcome^ to sweep out

And cleanse oui* chancel from the rags of RomCj,

They spoke not on our ancient fane the doom
To which their bigot zeal gave o'er their own.

But spared the martyr'd saint and storied tomb^
Though papal miracles had graced the stone.

And though the aisles still loved the organ's swelling
tone.

And deem not, though 'tis now my part to paint

A prelate sway'd by love of power and gold.
That all who wore the mitre of our Saint

Like to ambitious Aldingar I hold ;
Since both in modern times and days of old

It sate on those whose virtues might atone
Their predecessors' frailties trebly told :

Matthew and Morton we as such may own —
And such (if fame speak truth) the honoured Bar-
rington.

Canto ir. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 319

II.

But now to earlier and to ruder times.

As subject meet, I tune my rugged rhymes.

Telling how fairly the Chapter was met.

And rood and books in seemly order set ;

Huge brass-clasp d volumes, which the hand

Of studious priest but rarely scann'd.

Now on fair carved desk displayed,

'Twas theirs the solemn scene to aid.

O'er-head with many a scutcheon graced.

And quaint devices interlaced,

A labyrinth of crossing rows.

The roof in lessening arches shows ;

Beneath its shade placed proud and high.

With footstool and with canopy.

Sate Aldingar, and prelate ne'er

More haughty graced Saint Cuthbert's chair.

Canons and deacons were placed below.

In due degree and lengthen'd row.

320 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto IV.

Unmoved and silent each sate there.

Like image in his oaken chair ;

Nor head, nor hand, nor foot they stirr'd.

Nor lock of hair, nor tress of heard.

And of their eyes severe alone

The twinkle shew'd they were not stone.

III.
The Prelate was to speech address'd.
Each head sunk reverent on each breast ;
But ere his voice was heard — ^without
Arose a wild, tumultuous shout.
Offspring of wonder mix'd with fear.
Such as in crowded streets we hear
Hailing the flames, that, bursting out;^
Attract, yet scare, the rabble rout.
Ere it had ceased, a giant hand
Shook oaken door and iron band.
Till oak and iron both gave way,
-Clash'd the long bolts, the hinges bray.

Canto IV. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 321

And ere upon angel or saint they can call.
Stands Harold the Dauntless in midst of the hall.

IV.

^^ Now save ye, my masters, both rocket and rood.

From Bishop with mitre to Deacon with hood !

For here stands Count Harold, old Witikind's son.

Come to sue for the lands which his ancestors won."—

The Prelate look'd round him with sore troubled eye.

Unwilling to grant, yet afraid to deny.

While each Canon and Deacon who heard the Dane

speak.

To be safely at home would have fasted a week : —

Then Aldingar roused him and answered again,

" Thou suest for a boon which thou canst not obtain ;

The church hath no fiefs for an unchristen'd Dane.

Thy father was wise, and his treasure hath given

That the priests of a chantry might hymn him to

heaven ;

o 2

322 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto IV.

And the fiefs which whilome he possessed as his due^
Have lapsed to the church, and been granted anew
To Anthony Conyers and Alberic Vere,
For the service St Cuthbert's bless'd banner to bear.
When the bands of the North come to foray the Wear.
Then disturb not our conclave with wrangling or

blame.
But in peace and in patience pass hence as ye came." —

V.

Loud laugh'd the stern Pagan — " They're free from

the care
Of fief and of service, both Conyers and Vere, — -
Six feet of your chancel is all they will need,
A buckler of stone and a corslet of lead. — >
Ho, Gunnar ! — the tokens !" — and, sever'd anew,
A head and a hand on the altar he threw.
Then shudder'd with terror both Canon and Monk,
They knew the glazed eye and the countenance shrunk.

Canto IV. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 323

And of Anthony Conyers the half-grizzled hair.
And the scar on the hand of Sir Alberic Vere.
There was not a churchman or priest that was there.
But grew pale at the sight, and betook him to prayer.

VI.

Count Harold laugh'd at their looks of fear :
^^ Was this the hand should your banner bear ?
Was that the head should wear the casque
In battle at the church's task ?
Was it to such you gave the place
Of Harold with the heavy mace ?
Find me between the Wear and Tyne
A knight will wield this club of mine, —
Give me my fiefs, and I will say
There's wit beneath the cowl of gray." —
He raised it, rough with many a stain.
Caught from crush'd scull and spouting brain ;
He wheel'd it that it shrilly sung,
And the aisles echoed as it swung.

324 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Cmto IV.

Then dash'd it down with sheer descent.

And split King Osrick's monument. —

^' How like ye this music ? How trow ye the hand

That can wield such a mace may be reft of its land ?

No answer ? — I spare ye a space to agree.

And Saint Cuthbert inspire you, a saint if he be.

Ten strides through your chancel, ten strokes on your

bell.
And again I am with you, — grave fathers, farewell." —

vn

He turn'd from their presence, he clash'd the oak door.
And the clang of his stride died away on the floor ;
And his head from his bosom the Prelate uprears
With a ghost-seer's look when the ghost disappears.
^' Ye priests of St Cuthbert, now give me your rede.
For never of counsel had Bishop more need !
Were the arch-fiend incarnate in flesh and in bone.
The language, the look, and the laugh were his own.

I

Canto IV. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 325

In the bounds of Saint Ciithbert there is not a knight
Dare confront in our quarrel yon goblin in fight ;
Then rede me aright to his claim to reply,
'Tis unlawful to grant, and 'tis death to deny." —

VIII.

On ven'son and malmsie that morning had fed
The Cellarer Vinsauf, 'twas thus that he said :
^^ Delay till to-morrow the Chapter's reply ;
Let the feast be spread fair, and the wine be pour'd

high :
If he's mortal, he drinks — if he drinks, he is ours- —
His bracelets of iron, — his bed in our towers." —
This man had a laughing eye.
Trust not, friends, when such you spy ;
A beaker's depth he well could drain.
Revel, sport, and jest amain —
The haunch of the deer and the grape's bright dye
Never bard loved them better than I ;

326 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto IV.-

But sooner tlian Vinsauf filFd me my wine,

Pass'd me his jest^ and laughed at mine.

Though the buck were of Bearpark, of Bourdeaux

the vine.
With the dullest hermit Fd rather dine
On an oaten cake and a draught of the Tyne.

IX.

Walwayn the Leech spoke next — he knew
Each plant that loves the sun and dew.
But special those whose juice can gain
Dominion o'er the blood and brain ;
The peasant who saw him by pale moonbeam
Gathering such herbs by bank and stream,
Deem'd his thin form and soundless tread
Were those of wanderer from the dead. —
'^ Vinsauf, thy wine," he said, ^^ hath power.
Our gyves are heavy, strong our tower ;
Yet three drops from this flask of mine.
More strong than dungeons, gyves, or wine.

Canto IV. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 327

Shall give him prison under ground

More dark^ more narrow, more profound.

Short rede, good rede, let Harold have —

A dog s death and a heathen's grave." —

I have lain on a sick man's bed.

Watching for hours for the leech's tread.

As if I deem'd that his presence alone

Were of power to bid my pain begone ;

I have listed his words of comfort given,

As if to oracles from heaven ;

I have counted his steps from my chamber door.

And bless'd them when they were heard no more ; —

But sooner than Walwayn my sick couch should nigh.

My choice were by leech-craft unaided to die.

X.

^' Such service done in fervent zeal
The Church may pardon and conceal,"
The doubtful Prelate said, ^^ but ne'er
The counsel ere the act should hear. —

328 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto iVi

Anselm of Jarrow^ advise us now.

The stamp of wisdom is on thy brow ;

Thy days, thy nights in cloister pent.

Are still to mystic learning lent ; —

Anselm of Jarrow, in thee is my hope.

Thou well canst give counsel to Prelate or Pope/'i — -

XL

Answer'd the Prior — " 'Tis wisdom's use

Still to delay what we dare not refuse ;

Ere granting the boon he comes hither to ask.

Shape for the giant gigantic task ;

Let us see how a step so sounding can tread

In paths of darkness, danger, and dread ;

He may not, he will not, impugn our decree.

That calls but for proof of his chivalry.

And were Guy to return, or Sir Bevis the Strong,

Our wilds have adventure might cumber them long— ^

The castle of Seven Shields " " Kind An^lm, no

more !

The step of the Pagan approaches the door." —

d

Canto IV. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 329

The churchmen were hush'd— In his mantle of ski».
With his mace on his shoulder, Count Harold strode in.
There was foam on his lip, there was fire in his eye.
For, chafed by 9-ttendance, his fury was nigh.
^^ Ho ! Bishop," he said, ^^ dost thou grant me my

claim ?
Or must I assert it by falchion and flame ?"

XH.

^^ On thy suit, gallant Harold," the Bishop replied
In accents which trembled, '^ we might not decide^
Until proof of your strength and your valour we saw—
'Tis not that we doubt them, but such is the law/'—
" And would you. Sir Prelate, have Harold make sport
For the cowls and the shavelings that herd in thy

court?
Say what shall he do ? — From the shrine shall he tear
The lead bier of thy patron and heave it in air.
And through the long chancel make Cuthbert take

wing.
With the speed of a bullet disjniss'd from the sling ?"

330 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto IV.

" Nay, spare such probation/' the Cellarer said,

" From the mouth of our minstrels thy task shall be

read.
While the wine sparkles high in the goblet of gold,
And the revel is loudest, thy task shall be told ;
And thyself, gallant Harold, shall, hearing it, tell
That the Bishop, his cowls, and his shavelings, meant

well."

XIII.

Loud revelVd the guests, and the goblets loud rang,
But louder the minstrel, Hugh Meneville, sang ;
And Harold, the hurry and pride of whose sou],
E en when verging to fury, own'd music's controul.
Still bent on the harper his broad sable eye.
And often untasted the goblet pass'd by ;
Than wine, or than wassail, to him was more dear
The minstrel's high tale of enchantment to hear ; \
And the Bishop that day might of Vinsauf complainf
That his art had but wasted his wine-casks in vain

\

Ciinto /r. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 331

XIV.
€^t Cattle nl i^t ^^ben ^W\^^*

A BALLAD.

The Druid Urien had daughters seven.
Their skill could call the moon from heaven ;
So fair their forms and so high their fame.
That seven proud kings for their suitors came.

King Mador and Rhys came from Powis and Wales,
Unshorn was their hair, and unpruned were their

nails ;
From Strath Clwyde came Ewain, and Ewain was

lame.
And the red-bearded Donald from Galloway came.

Lot, King qf Lodon, was hunch-back'd from youth ;
Dunmail of Cumbria had never a tooth ;
But Adolf of Bambrough, Northumberland's heir.
Was gay and was gallant, was young and was fair.

832 HAKOLD THE DAUNTLESS. Cmto IV.

There was strife 'mongst the sisters, for each one

would have
For husband King Adolf, the gallant and brave.
And envy bred hate, and hate urged them to blows.
When the firm earth was cleft, and the Arch-fiend

arose !

He swore to the maidens their wish to fulfil —
They swore to the foe they would work by his will.
A spindle and distafi* to each hath he given,
'^ Now hearken my spell," said the Outcast of heaven.

^^ Ye shall ply these spindles at midnight hour.

And for every spindle shall rise a tower.

Where the right shall be feeble, the wrong shall

have power.
And there shall ye dwell with your paramour."

Beneath the pale moonlight they sate on the wold.
And the rhymes which they chaunted must never be
told;

Canto ir. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 333

And as the black wool from the distaff they sped.
With blood from their bosom they moistened the
thread.

As light danced the spindles beneath the cold gleam^,
The castle arose like the birth of a dream-—
The seven towers ascended like mist from the ground.
Seven portals defend them, seven ditches surround.

Within that dread castle seven monarchs were wed.
But six of the seven ere the morning lay dead ;
With their eyes all on fire, and their daggers all red,
Seven damsels surroxmd the Northumbrian's bed.

^^ Six kingly bridegrooms to death we have done.
Six gallant kingdoms King Adolf hath won.
Six lovely brides all his pleasure to do.
Or the bed of the seventh shall be husbandlees too."

Well chanced it that Adolf the night when he wed
Had confessed and had sain'd him ere bounce to his
bed;

334 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto IV.

He sprung from the couch and his broad sword he

drew.
And there the seven daughters of Urien he slew.

The gate of the castle he bolted and seal'd.
And hung o'er each arch-stone a crown and a shield ;
To the cells of St Dunstan then wended his way.
And died in his cloister an anchorite grey.

Seven monarchs' wealth in that castle lies stow'd.
The foul fiends brood o'er them like raven and toad.
Whoever shall guesten these chambers within.
From curfew till matins, that treasure shall win.

But manhood grows faint as the world waxes old !
There lives not in Britain a champion so bold.
So dauntless of heart, and so prudent of brain.
As to dare the adventure that treasure to gain.

The waste ridge of Cheviot shall wave with the rye.
Before the rude Scots shall Northumberland fly.

Canto IV. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 335

And the flint clifts of Bambro' shall melt in the sun.
Before that adventure be peril'd and won.

XV.

^^ And is this my probation ?" wild Harold he said,
^^ Within a lone castle to press a lone bed ? —
Good even, my Lord Bishop,-^Saint Cuthbert to

borrow.
The Castle of Seven Shields receives me to-morrow."—*

END OF CANTO FOURTH.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

CANTO FIFTH.

VOL. V.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

CANTO FIFTH.

I.

Denmark's sage courtier to her princely youth.

Granting his cloud an ouzel or a whale.
Spoke, though unwittingly, a partial truth ;

For Phantasy embroiders Nature's veil.
The tints of ruddy eve, or dawning pale>

Of the swart thunder-cloud, or silver haze,
Are but the ground-work of the rich detail

Which Phantasy with pencil wild pourtrays.
Blending what seems and is, in the rapt muser's gazJe

340 HAItOLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto F.

Nor are the stubborn forms of earth and stone

Less to the Sorceress's empire given :
For not with unsubstantial hues alone^

Caught from the varying surge, or vacant heaven.
From bursting sunbeam, or from flashing levin.

She limns her pictures — on the earth, as air.
Arise her castles, and her car is driven ;

And never gazed the eye on scene so fair.
But of its boasted charms fancy gave half the share.

II.

Up a wild pass went Harold, bent to prove,

Hugh Meneville, the adventure of thy lay ;
Gunnar pursued his steps in faith and love,

Ever companion of his master's way.
Midward their path, a rock of granite grey

From the adjoining cliff had made descent,—
A barren mass — yet with her di*ooping spray J

Had a young birch-tree crown'd its battlement.
Twisting her fibrous roots through cranny, flaw, and
rent.

Canto V. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 341

This rock and tree could Gunnar's thought engage

Till Fancy brought the tear-drop to his eye.
And at his master ask'd the timid page,

" What is the emblem that a bard should spy
In that rude rock and its green canopy ?"

And Harold said, ^' Like to the helmet brave
Of warrior slain in fight it seems to lie.

And these same drooping boughs do o'er it wave
Not all unlike the plume his lady's favour gave."—

'^ Ah, no !" replied the page ; " the ill-starr'd love

Of some poor maid is in the emblem shown.
Whose fates are with some hero's interwove.

And rooted on a heart to love unknown ;
And as the gentle dews of heaven alone

Nourish those drooping boughs, and as the scathe
Of the red lightning rends both tree and stone.

So fares it with her unrequited faith, —
Her sole relief is tears — ^liei only refuge death." —

342 ^HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto F.

III.

^^ Thou art a fond fantastic boy/'
Harold replied, " to females coy.

Yet prating still of love ;
Even so amid the clash of war
I know thou lovest to keep afar.
Though destined by thy evil star

With one like me to rove.
Whose business and whose joys are found
Upon the bloody battle-ground.

Yet, foolish trembler as thou art.
Thou hast a nook of my rude heart.
And thou and I will never part ; —
Harold would wrap the world in flame
Ere injury on Gunnar came."

IV.

The grateful page made no reply.
But turn'd to heaven his gentle eye.

Canto V. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 343

And clasp'd his hands, as one who said,
^' My toils — my wanderings are overpaid ! '
Then in a gayer, lighter strain,
Compeird himself to speech again ;

And, as they flow'd along.
His words took cadence soft and slow.
And liquid, like dissolving snow.

They melted into song.

V.

^' What though through fields of carnage wide
I may not follow Harold's stride.
Yet who with faithful Gunnar's pride

Lord Harold's feats can see ?
And dearer than the couch of pride
He loves the bed of grey wolf's hide.
When slumbering by Lord Harold's side

In forest, field, or lea."—-

544 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto V.

VL

^^ Break off!" said Harold, in a tone
Where hurry and sui'prise were shown.

With some slight touch of fear, —
*^ Break off, we are not here alone ;
A palmer form comes slowly on !
By cowl, and staff, and mantle known.

My monitor is near.
Now mark him, Gunnar, heedfully ;
He pauses by the blighted tree-
Dost see him, youth ? — Thou could'st not see
When in the vale of Galilee \

I first beheld his form ;
Nor when we met that other while
In Cephalonia's rocky isle.

Before the fearful storm, — ■

Dost see him now ?" — The page, distraught
With terror, answer'd, '^ I see nought, ;

And there is nought to see, !

Canto V. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. S45

Save that the oak's scathed boughs fling down
Upon the path a shadow brown.
That, like a pilgrim's dusky gown.
Waves with the waving tree/*

VII.
Count Harold gazed upon the oak
As if his eye-strings would have broke.

And then resolvedly said,—
^^ Be what it will, yon phantom grey.
Nor heaven, nor hell, shall ever say
That for their shadows from his way

Count Harold turn'd dismay'd :
rU speak him, though his accents fill
My heart with that unwonted thrill

Which vulgar minds call fear.

I will subdue it !" — Forth he strode.

Paused where the blighted oak-tree show'd

Its sable shadow on the road.

And, folding on his bosom broad

His arms, said, '^ Speak — I hear."
p 2

346

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

Canto V

VIII.
The Deep Voice said, ^^ O wild of will^
Furious thy purpose to fulfil—
Heart-sear'd and unrepentant stilly
How long, O Harold, shall thy tread
Disturb the slumbers of the dead ?
Each step in thy wild way thou makest
The ashes of the dead thou wakest ;
And shout in triumph o'er thy path
The fiends of bloodshed and of wrath.
In this thine hour, yet turn and hear !
For life is brief, and judgment near."

IX.

Then ceased The Voice. — The Dane replied

In tones where awe and inborn pride

For mastery strove, — ^^ In vain ye chide

The wolf for ravaging the flock.

Or with its hardness taunt the rock, —

I am as they— my Danish strain

Sends streams of fire through every vein.

Canto V. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 347

Amid thy realms of goule and ghost,
Say^ is the fame of Erick lost ?
Or Witikind's the Waster, known
Where fame or spoil was to be won ;
Whose galleys ne'er bore off a shore

They left not black with flame ?—
He was my sire, — and, sprung of him.
That rover merciless and grim.

Can I be soft and tame ?
Part hence, and with my crimes no more upbraid me,
I am that Waster's son, and am but what he made me/'

X.

The Phantom groan'd ; — the mountain shook around.
The fawn and wild-doe started at the sound.
The gorse and fern did wildly round them ware.
As if some sudden storm the impulse gave.
" AU thou hast said is truth — Yet on the head
Of that bad sire let not the charge be laid.
That he, like thee, with unrelenting pace.
From grave to cradle ran the evil race ;— •

348 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto V.

Relentless in his avarice and re.

Churches and towns he gave to sword and fire ;

Shed blood like water, wasted every land.

Like the destroying angel's burning brand ;

Fuliiird whatever of ill might be invented.

Yes — all these things he did — he did, but he re-
pented !

Perchance it is part of his punishment still.

That his offspring pursues his example of ill.

But thou, when thy tempest of wrath shall next
shake thee.

Gird thy loins for resistance, my son, and awake thee ;

If thou yield'st to thy fury, how tempted soever.

The gate of repentance shall ope for thee never !*'—

XL

'' He is gone," said Lord Harold, and gazed as he spoke ;
' ' There is nought on the path but the shade of the oak, —
He is gone, whose strange presence my feeling op-
pressed.
Like the night-hag that sits on the slumberer's breast.

Canto V. HAllOLD THE DAUNTLESS. S49

My heart beats as thick as a fugitive's tread.

And cold dews drop from my brow and my head. —

Ho ! Gunnar, the flasket yon almoner gave ;

He said that three drops would recall from the grave.

For the first time Count Harold owns leech-craft has

power.
Or, his courage to aid, lacks the juice of a flower !"-—
The page gave the flasket, which Walwayn had fill'd
With the juice of wild roots that his art had distill'd —
So baneful their influence on all that had breath.
One drop had been frenzy, and two had been death.
Harold took it, but drank not ; for jubilee shrill.
And music and clamour, were heard on the hill.
And down the steep pathway, o'er stock and o'er stone.
The train of a bridal came blithesomely on ;
There was song, there was pipe, there was timbrel,

and still
The burden was, ^^ Joy to the fair Metelill !"

350 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto V.

XII.

Harold might see from his high stance.
Himself unseen, that traip advance

With mirth and melody ;-^
On horse and foot a mingled throng.
Measuring their steps to bridal song

And bridal minstrelsy ;
And ever when the blithesome rout
Lent to the song their choral shout.
Redoubling echoes roU'd about.
While echoing cave and cliff sent out

The answering symphony.
Of all those mimic notes which dwell
In hollow rock and sounding dell.

XIII.

Joy shook his torch above the band.
By many a various passion fann'd ;—

Canto V. HAROLD THE DAU>5TLj:SS. 351

As elemental sparks can feed

On essence pure and coarsest weed^

Gentle, or stormy, or refined,

Joy takes the colours of the mind.

Lightsome and pure, but unrepress'd.

He fired the bridegroom's gallant breast ;

More feebly strove with maiden fear.

Yet still joy glimmer'd through the tear

On the bride's blushing cheek, that shows

Like dew-drop on the budding rose ;

While Wulfstane's gloomy smile declared

The joy that selfish avarice shared.

And pleased revenge and malice high

Its semblance took in Jutta's eye.

On dangerous adventure sped.

The witch 'deem'd Harold with the dead.

For thus that morn her Demon said :—

^^ If, ere the set of sun, be tied

The knot 'twixt bridegroom and his bride.

352 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto V,

The Dane shall have no power of ill

O'er William and o'er Metelill."

And the pleased witch made answer, ^^ Then

Must Harold have pass'd from the paths of men !

Evil repose may his spirit have,—

May hemlock and mandrake find root in his grave, —

May his death-sleep be do'gg'd by dreams of dismay.

And his waking be worse at the answering day !" —

XIV.

Such was their various mood of glee
Blent in one shout of ecstasy.
But still when joy is brimming highest.
Of sorrow and misfortune nighest.
Of Terror with her ague cheek.
And lurking Danger, sages speak : —
These haunt each path, but chief they lay
Their snares beside the primrose way. —
Thus found that bridal band their path
Beset by Harold in his wrath.

Can^o r. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 35S

Trembling beneath his maddening mood.
High on a rock the giant stood ;
His shout was like the doom of death
Spoke o'er their heads that passed beneath.
His destined victims might not spy
The reddening terrors of his eye, —
The frown of rage that writhed his face.
The lip that foam'd like boar's in chase ;
But all could see — and, seeing, all
Bore back to shun the threatened fall, —
The fragment which their giant foe
Rent from the cliff and heaved to throw.

XV.

Backward they bore ;— yet are there two

For battle who prepare :
No pause of dread Lord William knew

Ere his good blade was bare ;
And Wulfstane bent his fatal yew.
But ere the silken cord he drew.

354 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto V.

As hurl'd from Hecla's thunder, flew

That ruin through the air ! —
Full on the outlaw's front it came.
And all that late had human name.
And human face, and human frame.
That lived, and moved, and had free will
To chuse the path of good or ill.

Is to its reckoning gone ;
And nought of Wulfstane rests behind.

Save that beneath that stone.
Half-buried in the dinted clay,
A red and shapeless mass there lay.

Of mingled flesh and bone !

XVI.

As from the bosom of the sky

The eagle darts amain.
Three bounds from yonder summit high

Placed Harold on the plain.

Canto r. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 355

As the scared wild-fowl scream and fly.

So fled the bridal train ;
As 'gainst the eagle's peerless might
The noble falcon dares the fight.

But dares the fight in vain.
So fought the bridegroom ; from his hand
The Dane's rude mace has struck his brand.
Its glittering fragments strew the sand.

Its lord lies on the plain.
Now, Heaven ! take noble William's part.
And melt that yet unmelted heart.
Or, ere his bridal hour depart,

The hapless bridegroom's slaiii !

XVIL

Count Harold's frenzied rage is high.
There is a death-fire in his eye.
Deep furrows on his brow are trench'd.
His teeth are set, his hand is clench'd.

S56 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto V,

The foam upon his lip is white.

His deadly arm is up to smite !

But, as the mace aloft he swung.

To stop the blow young Gunnar sprung.

Around his master's knees he clung.

And cried, " In mercy spare !
O, think upon the words of fear
Spoke by that visionary Seer,
The crisis he foretold is here, —

Grant mercy, — or despair I" —
This word suspended Harold's mood.
Yet still with arm upraised he stood.
And visage like the headsman's rude

That pauses for the sign.
^^ O mark thee with the blessed rood,"
The page implored ; ^^ Speak word of good.
Resist the fiend, or be subdued !" —

He sign'd the cross divine —
Instant his eye hath human light.
Less red, less keen, less fiercely bright ;

Canto r* HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 357

His brow relax'd the obdurate frown.
The fatal mace sinks gently down.

He turns and strides away ;
Yet oft, like revellers who leave
Unfinished feast, looks back to grieve.
As if repenting the reprieve

He granted to his prey.
Yet still of forbearance one sign hath he given.
And fierce Witikind's son made one step towards
heaven.

xvni.

But though his dreaded footsteps part.
Death is behind and shakes his dart ;
Lord William on the plain is lying.
Beside him Metelill seems dying !—
Bring odpurs — essences in haste—
And lo ! a flasket richly chased, —
But Jutta the elixir proves
Ere pouring it for those she loves—

358 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto V.

Then Walwayn's potion was not wasted^
For when three drops the hag had tasted.

So dismal was her yell.
Each bird of evil omen woke.
The raven gave his fatal croak.
And shriek'd the night-crow from the oak.
The screech-owl from the thicket broke.

And fluttered down the dell !
So fearful was the sound and stern.
The slumbers of the full-gorged erne
Were startled, and from furze and fern

Of forest and of fell.
The fox and famish'd wolf replied,
(For wolves then prowl'd the Cheviot side,)
From mountain head to mountain head
The unhallowed sounds around were sped ;
But when their latest echo fled.
The sorceress on the ground lay dead.

Canto V. HAnOLD THE DAUNTLESS. 359

XIX.

Such was the scene of blood and woes^,
With which the bridal morn arose

Of William and of Metelill ;
But oft, when dawning 'gins to spread.
The summer-mom peeps dim and red

Above the eastern hill.
Ere, bright and fair, upon his road
The King of Splendour walks abroad ;
So, when this cloud had pass'd away.
Bright was the noon-tide of their day.
And all serene its setting ray.

END OF CANTO FIFTH.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

CANTO SIXTH.

VOL. V.

HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.

CANTO SIXTH.

W^ELL do I hope that this my minstrel tale

Will tempt no traveller from southern fields.
Whether in tilbury, barouche, or mail.

To view the Castle of these Seven proud Shields.
Small confirmation its condition yields

To Meneville's high lay, — No towers are seen
On the wild heath, but those that Fancy builds.

And, save a fosse which tracks the moor with green.
Is nought remains to tell of what may there have been.

And yet grave authors, with the no small waste
Of their grave time, have dignified the spot

S64 HAllOLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto VL

By theories^ to prove the fortress placed

By Roman bands^ to curb the invading Scot.

Hiitchinson^ Horsley^ Camden, I might quote.
But rather chuse the theory less civil

Of boors, who, origin of things forgot.
Refer still to the origin of evil.

And for their master-mason chuse that master-fiend
the Devil.

II.

Therefore, I say, it was on fiend-built towers

That stout Count Harold bent his wondering gaze.
When evening dew was on the heather flowers.

And the last sunbeams bade the mountain blaze.
And tinged the battlements of other days

With a bright level light ere sinking down. —
Illumined thus, the dauntless Dane surveys

The Seven proud Shields that o er the portal frown,
And on their blazons traced high marks of old renown.

Canto VI. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 365

A wolf North Wales had on his armour-coat.

And Rhys of Powis-land a couchant stag ;
Strath-Clwyd's strange emblem was a stranded boat,

Donald of Galloway a trotting nag :
A corn-sheaf gilt was fertile Lodon's brag ;

A dudgeon-dagger was by Dunmail worn ;
Northumbrian Adolf gave a sea-beat crag

Surmounted by a cross — such signs were borne
Upon these antique shields, all wasted now and worn.

III.

These scann'd. Count Harold sought the castle-door.

Whose ponderous bolts were rusted to decay ;
Yet till that hour adventurous knight forbore

The unobstructed passage to essay.
More strong than armed warders in array.

And obstacle more sure than bolt or bar.
Sate in the portal Terror and Dismay,

While Superstition, who forbade to war

366 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto VI.

With foes of other mould than mortal clay^

Cast spells across the gate^ and barr'd the onward way.

Vain now those spells — ^for soon with heavy clank

The feebly-fasterfd gate was inward pushed,
And^ as it oped^ through that emblazon'd rank

Of antique shields the wind of evening rush'd
With sound most like a groan, and then was hush'd.

Is none who on such spot such sounds could hear
But to his heart the blood had faster rush'd ;

Yet to bold Harold's breast that throb was dear-—
It spoke of danger nigh, but had no touch of fear.

IV.

Yet Harold and his page no signs have traced
Within the castle that of danger show'd ;

For still the halls and courts were wild and waste.
As through their precincts the adventurers trode.

The seven huge towers rose stately, tall, and broad.
Each tower presenting to their scrutiny

Canto VI. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 367

A hall in which a king might make abode^

And fast beside^ garnished both proud and high^
Was placed a bower for rest in which a king might lie.

As if a bridal there of late had been.

Decked stood the table in each gorgeous hall ;
And yet it was two hundred years, I ween.

Since date of that unhallowM festival.
Flagons, and ewers, and standing cups, were all

Of tarnish'd gold, or silver nothing clear.
With throne begilt, and canopy of pall.

And tapestry clothed the walls with fragments
sear, —
Frail as the spider's mesh did that rich woof appear.

V.

In every bower, as round a hearse, was hung
A dusky crimson curtain o'er the bed.

And on each couch in ghastly wise were flung
The wasted reliques of a monarch dead ;

368 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto VI.

Barbaric ornaments around were spread.

Vests twined with gold, and chains of precious
stone.

And golden circlets, meet for monarch's head ;

While grinn'd, as if in scorn amongst them thrown.

The wearer's fleshless scull, alike with dust bestrown.

For these were they who, drunken with delight.

On pleasure's opiate pillow laid their head.
For whom the bride's shy footstep, slow and light.

Was changed ere morning to the murderer's tread.
For human bliss and woe in the frail thread

Of human life are all so closely twined.
That till the shears of fate the texture shred,

The close succession cannot be disjoin'd.
Nor dare we from one hour judge that which comes
behind,

VL

But where the work of vengeance had been done.
In that seventh chamber, was a sterner sight ;

Canto VI, HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 3fa*9

There of the witch-brides lay each skeleton^
Still in the posture, as to death when dight.

For this lay prone, by one blow slain outright ;
And that, as one who struggled long in dying ;

One bony hand held knife as if to smite ;

One bent on fleshless knees as mercy crying ;

One lay across the door, as kilFd in act of flying-

The stern Dane smiled this charnel-house to see.

For his chafed thought returned to Metelill ; — .
And ^'^ Well," he said, '^ hath woman's perfidy.

Empty as air, as water volatile.
Been here avenged. — The origin of ill

Through woman rose, the Christian doctrine saith ;
Nor deem I, Gunnar, that thy minstrel skill

Can shew example where a woman's breath
Had made a true-lbve vow, and, tempted, kept her
faith."—

q2

370 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto VI.

VII.

The minstrel boy half smiled, half sigh'd.
And his half-filling eyes he dried.
And said, ^^ The theme I should but wrong.
Unless it were my dying song,
(Our Scalds have said in dying hour
The Northern harp has treble power,)
Else could I tell of woman's faith
Defying danger, scorn, and death.
Firm was that faith, — as diamond stone
Pure and unflaw'd, — ^her love unknown.
And unrequited ; — firm and pure.
Her stainless faith could all endure ;
From clime to clime, — from place to place,—
Through want, and danger, and disgrace,
A wanderer's wayward steps could trace. —
All this she did, and guerdon none
Required, save that her burial-stone

Canto VL HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 371

Should make at length the secret known,
' Thus hath a faithful woman done.'
Not in each breast such truth is laid.
But Eivir was a Danish maid." — i

VIII.

^^ Thou art a wild enthusiast/' said
Count Harold, ^^ for thy Danish maid ;
And yet, young Gunnar, I will own
Her's were a faith to rest upon.
But Eivir sleeps beneath her stone.
And all resembling her are gone.
What maid e'er shew'd such constancy
In plighted faith, like thine to me ?
But couch thee, boy ; the darksome shade
Falls thickly round, nor be dismay'd

Because the dead are by.
They were as we ; our little day
O'erspent, and we shall be as they.

372 HAllOLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto VI.

Yet near me;, Gunnar, be tliou laid^

Thy coucli upon my mantle made.

That thou may'st think, should fear invade.

Thy master slumbers nigh." —
Thus couch'd they in that dread abode,
Until the beams of dawning glow'd.

IX.

An alter'd man Lord Harold rose.
When he beheld that dawn unclose—

There's trouble in his eyes.
And traces on his brow and cheek
Of mingled awe and wonder speak :

^^ My page," he said, ^^ arise ;—
Leave we this place, my page."— -Nor more
He utter'd till the castle-door
They cross'd — ^but there he paused and said,
^^ My wildness hath awaked the dead—

Disturbed the sacred tomb ! — »

Canto VI. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 373

Methought this night I stood on high^
Where Hecla roars in middle sky.
And in her cavern'd gulphs could spy

The central place of doom !
And there before my mortal eye
Souls of the dead came flitting by^,
Whom fiends, with many a fiendish cry.

Bore to that evil den !
My eyes grew dizzy, and my brain,
W^as wilder'd, as the elvish train.
With shriek and howl, dragged on amain

Those who had late been men.

X.

'^ With hagard eyes and streaming hair,

Jutta, the Sorceress, was there.

And there pass'd Wulfstane, lately slain.

All crushed and foul with bloody stain. —

More had I seen, but that uprose

A whirlwind wild, and swept the snows ;

374 HAUOLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto VI.

And with such sound as when at need

A champion spurs his horse to speed.

Three armed knights rush on, who lead

Caparison'd a sable steed.

Sable their harness, and there came

Through their closed visors sparks of flame.

The first proclaimed in sounds of fear,

' Harold the Dauntless, welcome here !'

The next cried ^ Jubilee ! we've won

Count Witikind the Waster's son !'

And the third rider sternly spoke,

' Mount, in the name of Zernebock I—

From us, O Harold, were thy powers, —

Thy strength, thy dauntlessness, are ours ;

Nor think, a vassal thou of hell.

With hell canst strive/ The fiend spoke true !

My inmost soul the summons knew.

As captives know the knell.
That says the headsman's sword is bare.
And with an accent of despair

Commands them quit their cell.

Canto VL HAROLD TFIE DAUNTLESS. 275

I felt resistance was in Tain,

My foot had that fell stirrup ta'en.

My hand was on the fatal mane.

When to my rescue sped
That Palmer's visionary form.
And — like the passing of a storm —

The demons yell'd and fled !

XL

'^ His sable cowl, flung back, revealed
The features it before conceal'd ;

And, Gunnar, I could find
In him whose counsels strove to stay
So oft my course on wilful way.

My father Witikind !
Doom'd for his sins, and doom'd for mine,
A wanderer upon earth to pine
Until his son shall turn to grace.
And smooth for him a resting-place ! —

3T6 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto VL

Guniiar^ he must not haunt in vain

This world of wretchedness and pain :

ril tame my wilful heart to live

In peace — to pity and forgive —

And thou^ for so the vision said^

Must in thy Lord's repentance aid.

Thy mother was a prophetess^

He said, who by her skill could guess

How close the fatal textures join

Which knit thy thread of life with mine ;

Then, dark, he hinted of disguise

She framed to cheat too curious eyeS;,

That not a moment might divide

Thy fated footsteps from my side.

Methought, while thus my sire did teach,

I caught the meaning of his speech.

Yet seems its purport doubtful now." —

His hand then sought his thoughtful brow. —

Then first he mark'd, that in the tower

His glove was left at waking hour.

Canto VL HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 377

V

XII.

Trembling at first, and deadly pale.
Had Gunnar heard the vision'd tale ;
But when he learn'd the dubious close.
He blush'd like any opening rose.
And, glad to hide his tell-tale cheek.

Hied back that glove of mail to seek ;
When soon a shriek of deadly dread
Summoned his master to his aid.

XIII.

What sees Count Harold in that bower.

So late his resting-place ?-— .
The semblance of the Evil Power,

Adored by all his race !
Odinn in living form stood there.
His cloak the spoils of Polar bear ;
For plumy crest, a meteor shed
Its gloomy radiance o'er his head.

378 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto VI,

Yet veird its hagard majesty
To the wild lightnings of his eye.
Such height was his^ as when in stone
O'er Upsal's giant altar shown ;

So flow'd his hoary beard ;
Such was his lance of mountain-pine.
So did his sevenfold buckler shine ;

Biit when his voice he rear'd.
Deep, without harshness, slow and strong.
The powerful accents roll'd along.
And, while he spoke, his hand was laid
On captive Gunnar's shrinking head.

XIV.

" Harold," he said, ^^ what rage is thine
To quit the worship of thy line.
To leave thy Warrior God ?— <
With me is glory or disgrace.
Mine are the onset and tlie chase.

Cajito VI, HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 3T9

Embattled hosts before my face

Are withered by a nod.
Wilt thou then forfeit that high seat.
Deserved by many a dauntless feat
Among the heroes of thy line,
Eric and fiery Thorarine ? —
Thou wilt not. Only I can give
The joys for which the valiant live.
Victory and vengeance — only I
Can give the joys for which they die,—
The immortal tilt — the banquet full.
The brimming draught from foeman's scull.
Mine art thou, witness this thy glove.
The faithful pledge of vassal's love." — »

XV.

'^ Tempter," said Harold, firm of heart,
^^ I charge thee hence ! whatever thou art,
I do defy thee — and resist
The kindling frenzy of my breast,

380 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Canto VL

Waked by thy words ; and of my mail

Nor gloYe^ nor buckler^ splent, nor nail^

Shall rest with thee — that youth release.

And God, or Demon, part in peace." —

" Eivir," the Shape replied, '' is mine,

Mark'd in the birth-hour with my sign.

Think'st thou that priest with drops of spray

Could wash that blood-red mark away ?

Or that a borrowed sex and name

Can abrogate a Godhead's claim ?" —

Thriird this strange speech through Harold's brain,

He clench'd his teeth in high disdain.

For not his new-born faith subdued

Some tokens of his ancient mood.-—*

"^^ Now, by the hope so lately given

Of better trust and purer heaven,

I will assail thee, fiend !" — Then rose

His mace, and with a storm of blows

The mortal and the demon close.

Canto VI. HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. 381

XVI.

Smoke rolFd above^ fire flashed around.
Darkened the sky and shook the ground ;

But not the artillery of hell.
The bickering lightning, nor the rock
Of turrets to the earthquake's shock.

Could Harold's courage quell.
Sternly the Dane his purpose kept.
And blows on blows resistless heap d.

Till quaird that demon form.
And — for his power to hurt or kill
Was bounded by a higher will—

Evanished in the storm
Nor paused the Champion of the North,
But raised, and bore his Eivir forth
From that wild scene of fiendish strife.
To light, to liberty, and life !

882 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS, Canto VI.

XVII.

He placed her on a bank of moss,

A silver runnel bubbled by.
And new-born thoughts his soul engross.
And tremors, yet unknown, across

His stubborn sinews fly.
The while with timid hand the dew
Upon her brow and neck he threw.
And mark'd how life with rosy hue
On her pale cheek revived anew.

And glimmer'd in her eye.
Inly he said, ^^ That silken tress.
What blindness mine that could not guess.
Or how could page's rugged dress

That bosom's pride belie ?
O, dull of heart, through wild and wave
In search of blood and death to rave.
With such a partner nigh !"— ^

Canto VL HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS, 383

XVIII.
Then in the mirror'd pool he peer'd.
Blamed his rough locks and shaggy beard.
The stains of recent conflict clear'd,—

And thus the Champion proved.
That he fears now who never fear'd.

And loves who never loved.
And Eivir — ^life is on her cheek,
And yet she will not move or speak.

Nor will her eye-lid fully ope ;
Perchance it loves, that half-shut eye.
Through its long fringe, reserved and shy.
Affection's opening dawn to spy ;
And the deep blush, which bids its dye
O'er cheek, and brow, and bosom fly.

Speaks shame-facedness and hope.

XIX.

But vainly seems the Dane to seek
For terms his new-born love to speak,-—

384 HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS. Cunio VJ*

For words, save those of wrath and wrong.
Till now were strangers to his tongue;
So, when he raised the blushing maid.
In blunt and honest terms he said,—
('Twere well that maids, when lovers woo.
Heard none more soft, were all as true,)
^^ Eivir ! since thou for many a day-
Hast follow'd Harold's wayward way.
It is but meet that in the line
Of after-life I follow thine.
To-morrow is Saint Cuthbert's tide.
And we will grace his altar's side,
A Christian knight and Christian bride ;
And of Witikind's son shall the marvel be said.
That on the same morn he was christened and wed."

END OF CANTO SIXTH,

CONCLUSION.

And now, Ennui, what ails thee, weary maid ?

And why these listless looks of yawning sorrow ?
No need to turn the page, as if 'twere lead^

Or fling aside the volume till to-morrow. —
Be cheered — 'tis ended — and I will not borrow.

To try thy patience more, one anecdote
From Bartholine, or Perinskiold, or Snorro.

Then pardon thou thy minstrel, who hath wrote
A Tale six cantos long, yet scorn'd to add a note.

END OF VOLUME FIFTH.

Edinburgh :
Printed by James Ballantyne & Co.

BRIGHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY

3 1197 22065 1100

Date Due

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JUL 2 7 2

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