Вальтер Скотт
Scott's Lady of the Lake

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CANTO FOURTH
THE PROPHECY

I

 
“The rose is fairest when ’tis budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest wash’d with morning dew,
And love is loveliest when embalm’d in tears.
O wilding²²¹ rose, whom fancy thus endears,
I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave,
Emblem of hope and love through future years!” —
Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave,
What time the sun arose on Vennachar’s broad wave.
 

II

 
Such fond conceit, half said, half sung,
Love prompted to the bridegroom’s tongue,
All while he stripp’d the wild-rose spray.
His ax and bow beside him lay,
For on a pass ’twixt lake and wood,
A wakeful sentinel he stood.
Hark! on the rock a footstep rung,
And instant to his arms he sprung.
“Stand, or thou diest! – What, Malise? – soon
Art thou return’d from Braes of Doune.
By thy keen step and glance I know,
Thou bring’st us tidings of the foe.” —
(For while the Fiery Cross hied on,
On distant scout had Malise gone.)
“Where sleeps the Chief?” the henchman said. —
"Apart, in yonder misty glade;
To his lone couch I’ll be your guide." —
Then call’d a slumberer by his side,
And stirr’d him with his slacken’d bow —
“Up, up, Glentarkin! rouse thee, ho!
We seek the Chieftain; on the track,
Keep eagle watch till I come back.”
 

III

 
Together up the pass they sped:
“What of the foemen?” Norman said. —
“Varying reports from near and far;
This certain, – that a band of war
Has for two days been ready boune,²²²
At prompt command, to march from Doune;
King James, the while, with princely powers,
Holds revelry in Stirling towers.
Soon will this dark and gathering cloud
Speak on our glens in thunder loud.
Inured to bide such bitter bout,
The warrior’s plaid may bear it out;²²³
But, Norman, how wilt thou provide
A shelter for thy bonny bride?” —
“What! know ye not that Roderick’s care
To the lone isle hath caused repair
Each maid and matron of the clan,
And every child and aged man
Unfit for arms; and given his charge,²²⁴
Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge,
Upon these lakes shall float at large,
But all beside the islet moor,
That such dear pledge may rest secure?” —
 

IV

 
“’Tis well advised – the Chieftain’s plan
Bespeaks the father of his clan.
But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu
Apart from all his followers true?” —
“It is, because last evening-tide
Brian an augury hath tried,
Of that dread kind which must not be
Unless in dread extremity;
The Taghairm²²⁵ call’d; by which, afar,
Our sires foresaw the events of war.
Duncraggan’s milk-white bull they slew.”
 

MALISE

 
“Ah! well the gallant brute I knew!
The choicest of the prey we had,
When swept our merry men Gallangad.²²⁶
His hide was snow, his horns were dark,
His red eye glow’d like fiery spark;
So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet,
Sore did he cumber our retreat,
And kept our stoutest kernes²²⁷ in awe,
Even at the pass of Beal ’maha.
But steep and flinty was the road,
And sharp the hurrying pikeman’s goad,
And when we came to Dennan’s Row,
A child might scathless²²⁸ stroke his brow.”
 

V

NORMAN

 
“That bull was slain: his reeking hide
They stretch’d the cataract beside,
Whose waters their wild tumult toss
Adown the black and craggy boss
Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge
Tradition calls the Hero’s Targe.
Couch’d on a shelve beneath its brink,
Close where the thundering torrents sink,
Rocking beneath their headlong sway,
And drizzled by the ceaseless spray,
Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream,
The wizard waits prophetic dream.
Nor distant rests the Chief; – but hush!
See, gliding slow through mist and bush,
The Hermit gains yon rock, and stands
To gaze upon our slumbering bands.
Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost,
That hovers o’er a slaughter’d host?
Or raven on the blasted oak,
That, watching while the deer is broke,²²⁹
His morsel claims with sullen croak?"
 

MALISE

 
– “Peace! peace! to other than to me,
Thy words were evil augury;
But still I hold Sir Roderick’s blade
Clan-Alpine’s omen and her aid,
Not aught that, glean’d from heaven or hell,
Yon fiend-begotten monk can tell.
The Chieftain joins him, see – and now,
Together they descend the brow.”
 

VI

 
And, as they came, with Alpine’s lord
The Hermit Monk held solemn word: —
“Roderick! it is a fearful strife,
For man endowed with mortal life,
Whose shroud of sentient clay can still
Feel feverish pang and fainting chill,
Whose eye can stare in stony trance,
Whose hair can rouse like warrior’s lance, —
’Tis hard for such to view, unfurl’d,
The curtain of the future world.
Yet, witness every quaking limb,
My sunken pulse, my eyeballs dim,
My soul with harrowing anguish torn,
This for my Chieftain have I borne! —
The shapes that sought my fearful couch,
A human tongue may ne’er avouch;
No mortal man, – save he, who, bred
Between the living and the dead,
Is gifted beyond nature’s law, —
Had e’er survived to say he saw.
At length the fateful answer came,
In characters of living flame!
Not spoke in word, nor blazed²³⁰ in scroll,
But borne and branded on my soul; —
Which spills the foremost foeman’s life,
That party conquers in the strife.” —
 

VII

 
“Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care!
Good is thine augury, and fair.
Clan-Alpine ne’er in battle stood,
But first our broadswords tasted blood.
A surer victim still I know,
Self-offer’d to the auspicious blow:
A spy has sought my land this morn, —
No eve shall witness his return!
My followers guard each pass’s mouth,
To east, to westward, and to south;
Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide,
Has charge to lead his steps aside,
Till, in deep path or dingle brown,
He light on those shall bring him down.
– But see, who comes his news to show!
Malise! what tidings of the foe?” —
 

VIII

 
“At Doune, o’er many a spear and glaive²³¹
Two Barons proud their banners wave.
I saw the Moray’s silver star,
And mark’d the sable pale²³² of Mar.” —
“By Alpine’s soul, high tidings those!
I love to hear of worthy foes.
When move they on?” – “To-morrow’s noon
Will see them here for battle boune.” —
“Then shall it see a meeting stern! —
But, for the place – say, couldst thou learn
Naught of the friendly clans of Earn?²³³
Strengthened by them, we well might bide
The battle on Benledi’s side.
Thou couldst not? – Well! Clan-Alpine’s men
Shall man the Trosachs’ shaggy glen;
Within Loch Katrine’s gorge we’ll fight,
All in our maids’ and matrons’ sight,
Each for his hearth and household fire,
Father for child, and son for sire,
Lover for maid beloved! – But why —
Is it the breeze affects mine eye?
Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear!
A messenger of doubt or fear?
No! sooner may the Saxon lance
Unfix Benledi from his stance,²³⁴
Than doubt or terror can pierce through
The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu!
’Tis stubborn as his trusty targe.
Each to his post – all know their charge.”
The pibroch sounds, the bands advance,
The broadswords gleam, the banners dance,
Obedient to the Chieftain’s glance.
– I turn me from the martial roar,
And seek Coir-Uriskin once more.
 

IX

 
Where is the Douglas? – he is gone;
And Ellen sits on the gray stone
Fast by the cave, and makes her moan;
While vainly Allan’s words of cheer
Are pour’d on her unheeding ear. —
“He will return – Dear lady, trust! —
With joy return; – he will – he must.
Well was it time to seek, afar,
Some refuge from impending war,
When e’en Clan-Alpine’s rugged swarm
Are cow’d by the approaching storm.
I saw their boats, with many a light,
Floating the livelong yesternight,
Shifting like flashes darted forth
By the red streamers of the north;²³⁵
I mark’d at morn how close they ride,
Thick moor’d by the lone islet’s side,
Like wild ducks couching in the fen,
When stoops the hawk upon the glen.
Since this rude race dare not abide
The peril on the mainland side,
Shall not thy noble father’s care
Some safe retreat for thee prepare?” —
 

X

ELLEN

 
“No, Allan, no! Pretext so kind
My wakeful terrors could not blind.
When in such tender tone, yet grave,
Douglas a parting blessing gave,
The tear that glisten’d in his eye
Drown’d not his purpose fix’d and high.
My soul, though feminine and weak,
Can image his; e’en as the lake,
Itself disturb’d by slightest stroke,
Reflects the invulnerable rock.
He hears report of battle rife,
He deems himself the cause of strife.
I saw him redden, when the theme
Turn’d, Allan, on thine idle dream
Of Malcolm Græme in fetters bound,
Which I, thou saidst, about him wound.
Think’st thou he trow’d²³⁶ thine omen aught?
Oh no! ’twas apprehensive thought
For the kind youth, – for Roderick too —
(Let me be just) that friend so true;
In danger both, and in our cause!
Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause.
Why else that solemn warning given,
‘If not on earth, we meet in heaven?’
Why else, to Cambus-kenneth’s fane,²³⁷
If eve return him not again,
Am I to hie, and make me known?
Alas! he goes to Scotland’s throne,
Buys his friend’s safety with his own;
He goes to do – what I had done,
Had Douglas’ daughter been his son!” —
 

XI

 
“Nay, lovely Ellen! – dearest, nay!
If aught should his return delay,
He only named yon holy fane
As fitting place to meet again.
Be sure he’s safe; and for the Græme, —
Heaven’s blessing on his gallant name! —
My vision’d sight may yet prove true,
Nor bode²³⁸ of ill to him or you.
When did my gifted²³⁹ dream beguile?²⁴⁰
Think of the stranger at the isle,
And think upon the harpings slow,
That presaged this approaching woe!
Sooth was my prophecy of fear;
Believe it when it augurs cheer.
Would we had left this dismal spot!
Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot.
Of such a wondrous tale I know —
Dear lady, change that look of woe,
My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.” —
 

ELLEN

 
“Well, be it as thou wilt; I hear,
But cannot stop the bursting tear.”
The Minstrel tried his simple art,
But distant far was Ellen’s heart.
 

XII

BALLAD

Alice Brand

 
Merry it is in the good greenwood,
When the mavis²⁴¹ and merle²⁴² are singing,
When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,
And the hunter’s horn is ringing.
 
 
“O Alice Brand, my native land
Is lost for love of you;
And we must hold by wood and wold,²⁴³
As outlaws wont to do.
 
 
“O Alice, ’twas all for thy locks so bright,
And ’twas all for thine eyes so blue,
That on the night of our luckless flight,
Thy brother bold I slew.
 
 
“Now must I teach to hew the beech
The hand that held the glaive,
For leaves to spread our lowly bed,
And stakes to fence our cave.
 
 
“And for vest of pall,²⁴⁴ thy finger small,
That wont on harp to stray,
A cloak must shear from the slaughter’d deer,
To keep the cold away.” —
 
 
“O Richard! if my brother died,
’Twas but a fatal chance;
For darkling²⁴⁵ was the battle tried,
And fortune sped the lance.
 
 
“If pall and vair²⁴⁶ no more I wear,
Nor thou the crimson sheen,
As warm, we’ll say, is the russet²⁴⁷ gray,
As gay the forest-green.²⁴⁸
 
 
“And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
And lost thy native land,
Still Alice has her own Richard,
And he his Alice Brand.”
 

XIII

BALLAD CONTINUED

 
’Tis merry, ’tis merry, in good greenwood,
So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
On the beech’s pride, and oak’s brown side,
Lord Richard’s ax is ringing.
 
 
Up spoke the moody Elfin King,
Who won’d²⁴⁹ within the hill, —
Like wind in the porch of a ruin’d church,
His voice was ghostly shrill.
 
 
“Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak,
Our moonlight circle’s screen?
Or who comes here to chase the deer,
Beloved of our Elfin Queen?
Or who may dare on wold to wear
The fairies’ fatal green!
 
 
“Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,
For thou wert christen’d man;
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
For mutter’d word or ban.
 
 
"Lay on him the curse of the wither’d heart,
The curse of the sleepless eye;
Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
Nor yet find leave to die.”
 

XIV

BALLAD CONTINUED

 
’Tis merry, ’tis merry, in good greenwood,
Though the birds have still’d their singing!
The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
And Richard is fagots bringing.
 
 
Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
Before Lord Richard stands,
And, as he cross’d and bless’d himself,
“I fear not sign,” quoth the grisly elf,
“That is made with bloody hands.”
 
 
But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,
That woman void of fear, —
"And if there’s blood upon his hand,
’Tis but the blood of deer.” —
 
 
“Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!
It cleaves unto his hand,
The stain of thine own kindly²⁵⁰ blood,
The blood of Ethert Brand.”
 
 
Then forward stepp’d she, Alice Brand,
And made the holy sign, —
“And if there’s blood on Richard’s hand,
A spotless hand is mine.
 
 
“And I conjure thee, demon elf,
By Him whom demons fear,
To show us whence thou art thyself,
And what thine errand here?”
 

XV

BALLAD CONTINUED

 
“’Tis merry, ’tis merry, in Fairyland,
When fairy birds are singing,
When the court doth ride by their monarch’s side,
With bit and bridle ringing:
 
 
“And gayly shines the Fairyland —
But all is glistening show,
Like the idle gleam that December’s beam
Can dart on ice and snow.
 
 
“And fading, like that varied gleam,
Is our inconstant shape,
Who now like knight and lady seem,
And now like dwarf and ape.
 
 
“It was between the night and day,
When the Fairy King has power,
That I sunk down in a sinful fray,
And, ’twixt life and death, was snatched away
To the joyless Elfin bower.
 
 
“But wist²⁵¹ I of a woman bold,
Who thrice my brow durst sign,
I might regain my mortal mold,
As fair a form as thine.”
 
 
She cross’d him once – she cross’d him twice —
That lady was so brave;
The fouler grew his goblin hue,
The darker grew the cave.
 
 
She cross’d him thrice, that lady bold;
He rose beneath her hand
The fairest knight on Scottish mold,
Her brother, Ethert Brand!
 
 
Merry it is in good greenwood,
When the mavis and merle are singing,
But merrier were they in Dunfermline²⁵² gray,
When all the bells were ringing.
 

XVI

 
Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed,
A stranger climb’d the steepy glade;
His martial step, his stately mien,
His hunting suit of Lincoln green,
His eagle glance, remembrance claims —
’Tis Snowdoun’s Knight, ’tis James Fitz-James.
Ellen beheld as in a dream,
Then, starting, scarce suppress’d a scream:
“O stranger! in such hour of fear,
What evil hap has brought thee here?” —
“An evil hap how can it be,
That bids me look again on thee?
By promise bound, my former guide
Met me betimes this morning tide,
And marshal’d, over bank and bourne,²⁵³
The happy path of my return.” —
“The happy path! – what! said he naught
Of war, of battle to be fought,
Of guarded pass?” – “No, by my faith!
Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.”²⁵⁴—
“Oh haste thee, Allan, to the kern,²⁵⁵
– Yonder his tartans I discern;
Learn thou his purpose, and conjure
That he will guide the stranger sure! —
What prompted thee, unhappy man?
The meanest serf in Roderick’s clan
Had not been bribed by love or fear,
Unknown to him to guide thee here.”
 

XVII

 
“Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be,
Since it is worthy care from thee;
Yet life I hold but idle breath,
When love or honor’s weigh’d with death.
Then let me profit by my chance,
And speak my purpose bold at once.
I come to bear thee from a wild,
Where ne’er before such blossom smiled;
By this soft hand to lead thee far
From frantic scenes of feud and war.
Near Bochastle my horses wait;
They bear us soon to Stirling gate.
I’ll place thee in a lovely bower,
I’ll guard thee like a tender flower” —
“Oh! hush, Sir Knight! ’twere female art,
To say I do not read thy heart;
Too much, before, my selfish ear
Was idly soothed my praise to hear.
That fatal bait hath lured thee back,
In deathful hour, o’er dangerous track;
And how, oh how, can I atone
The wreck my vanity brought on! —
One way remains – I’ll tell him all —
Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall!
Thou, whose light folly bears the blame
Buy thine own pardon with thy shame!
But first – my father is a man
Outlaw’d and exiled, under ban;
The price of blood is on his head,
With me ’twere infamy to wed. —
Still wouldst thou speak? – then hear the truth!
Fitz-James, there is a noble youth, —
If yet he is! – exposed for me
And mine to dread extremity²⁵⁶—
Thou hast the secret of my heart;
Forgive, be generous, and depart!”
 

XVIII

 
Fitz-James knew every wily train²⁵⁷
A lady’s fickle heart to gain;
But here he knew and felt them vain.
There shot no glance from Ellen’s eye,
To give her steadfast speech the lie;
In maiden confidence she stood,
Though mantled in her cheek the blood,
And told her love with such a sigh
Of deep and hopeless agony,
As²⁵⁸ death had seal’d her Malcolm’s doom,
And she sat sorrowing on his tomb.
Hope vanish’d from Fitz-James’s eye,
But not with hope fled sympathy.
He proffer’d to attend her side,
As brother would a sister guide. —
“Oh! little know’st thou Roderick’s heart!
Safer for both we go apart.
Oh haste thee, and from Allan learn,
If thou mayst trust yon wily kern.”
With hand upon his forehead laid,
The conflict of his mind to shade,
A parting step or two he made;
Then, as some thought had cross’d his brain,
He paused, and turn’d, and came again.
 

XIX

 
“Hear, lady, yet, a parting word! —
It chanced in fight that my poor sword
Preserved the life of Scotland’s lord.
This ring the grateful Monarch gave,
And bade, when I had boon to crave,
To bring it back, and boldly claim
The recompense that I would name.
Ellen, I am no courtly lord,
But one who lives by lance and sword,
Whose castle is his helm and shield,
His lordship the embattled field.
What from a prince can I demand,
Who neither reck²⁵⁹ of state nor land?
Ellen, thy hand – the ring is thine;
Each guard and usher knows the sign.
Seek thou the King without delay;
This signet shall secure thy way;
And claim thy suit, whate’er it be,
As ransom of his pledge to me.”
He placed the golden circlet on,
Paused – kiss’d her hand – and then was gone.
The aged Minstrel stood aghast,
So hastily Fitz-James shot past.
He join’d his guide, and wending down
The ridges of the mountain brown,
Across the stream they took their way,
That joins Loch Katrine to Achray.
 

XX

 
All in the Trosachs’ glen was still,
Noontide was sleeping on the hill:
Sudden his guide whoop’d loud and high —
“Murdoch! was that a signal cry?” —
He stammer’d forth – “I shout to scare
Yon raven from his dainty fare.”
He look’d – he knew the raven’s prey,
His own brave steed: – “Ah! gallant gray!
For thee – for me, perchance – ’twere well
We ne’er had seen the Trosachs’ dell. —
Murdoch, move first – but silently;
Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!”
Jealous and sullen, on they fared,
Each silent, each upon his guard.
 

XXI

 
Now wound the path its dizzy ledge
Around a precipice’s edge,
When lo! a wasted female form,
Blighted by wrath of sun and storm,
In tatter’d weeds²⁶⁰ and wild array,
Stood on a cliff beside the way,
And glancing round her restless eye,
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,
Seem’d naught to mark, yet all to spy.
Her brow was wreath’d with gaudy broom;
With gesture wild she waved a plume
Of feathers, which the eagles fling
To crag and cliff from dusky wing;
Such spoils her desperate step had sought,
Where scarce was footing for the goat.
The tartan plaid she first descried,
And shriek’d till all the rocks replied;
As loud she laugh’d when near they drew,
For then the Lowland garb she knew;
And then her hands she wildly wrung,
And then she wept, and then she sung —
She sung! – the voice, in better time,
Perchance to harp or lute might chime;
And now, though strain’d and roughen’d, still
Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill.
 

XXII

SONG

 
They bid me sleep, they bid me pray,
They say my brain is warp’d²⁶¹ and wrung —
I cannot sleep on Highland brae,
I cannot pray in Highland tongue.
But were I now where Allan²⁶² glides,
Or heard my native Devan’s²⁶³ tides,
So sweetly would I rest, and pray
That Heaven would close my wintry day!
 
 
’Twas thus my hair they bade me braid,
They made me to the church repair;
It was my bridal morn, they said,
And my true love would meet me there.
But woe betide the cruel guile,
That drown’d in blood the morning smile!
And woe betide the fairy dream!
I only waked to sob and scream.
 

XXIII

 
“Who is this maid? what means her lay?
She hovers o’er the hollow way,
And flutters wide her mantle gray,
As the lone heron spreads his wing,
By twilight, o’er a haunted spring.” —
“’Tis Blanche of Devan,” Murdoch said,
“A crazed and captive Lowland maid,
Ta’en on the morn she was a bride,
When Roderick foray’d Devan-side;
The gay bridegroom resistance made,
And felt our Chief’s unconquer’d blade.
I marvel she is now at large,
But oft she ’scapes from Maudlin’s charge. —
Hence, brain-sick fool!” – He raised his bow: —
“Now, if thou strikest her but one blow,
I’ll pitch thee from the cliff as far
As ever peasant pitch’d a bar!”²⁶⁴—
“Thanks, champion, thanks!” the maniac cried,
And press’d her to Fitz-James’s side.
“See the gray pennons I prepare,
To seek my true love through the air!
I will not lend that savage groom,
To break his fall, one downy plume!
No! – deep amid disjointed stones,
The wolves shall batten²⁶⁵ on his bones,
And then shall his detested plaid,
By bush and brier in mid air stayed,
Wave forth a banner fair and free,
Meet signal for their revelry.” —
 

XXIV

 
“Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still!” —
“Oh! thou look’st kindly, and I will. —
Mine eye has dried and wasted been,
But still it loves the Lincoln green;
And, though mine ear is all unstrung,
Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue.
 
 
“For oh my sweet William was forester true,
He stole poor Blanche’s heart away!
His coat it was all of the greenwood hue,
And so blithely he trill’d the Lowland lay!
 
 
“It was not that I meant to tell …
But thou art wise, and guessest well.”
Then, in a low and broken tone,
And hurried note, the song went on.
Still on the Clansman, fearfully,
She fixed her apprehensive eye;
Then turn’d it on the Knight, and then
Her look glanced wildly o’er the glen.
 

XXV

 
“The toils are pitch’d, and the stakes are set,
Ever sing merrily, merrily;
The bows they bend, and the knives they whet,
Hunters live so cheerily.
 
 
“It was a stag, a stag of ten,²⁶⁶
Bearing its branches sturdily;
He came stately down the glen,
Ever sing hardily, hardily.
 
 
“It was there he met with a wounded doe,
She was bleeding deathfully;
She warn’d him of the toils below,
Oh, so faithfully, faithfully!
 
 
“He had an eye, and he could heed,
Ever sing warily, warily;
He had a foot, and he could speed —
Hunters watch so narrowly.”²⁶⁷
 

XXVI

 
Fitz-James’s mind was passion-toss’d,
When Ellen’s hints and fears were lost;
But Murdoch’s shout suspicion wrought,
And Blanche’s song conviction brought. —
Not like a stag that spies the snare,
But lion of the hunt aware,
He waved at once his blade on high,
“Disclose thy treachery, or die!”
Forth at full speed the Clansman flew,
But in his race his bow he drew.
The shaft just grazed Fitz-James’s crest,
And thrill’d in Blanche’s faded breast. —
Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed,
For ne’er had Alpine’s son such need!
With heart of fire, and foot of wind,
The fierce avenger is behind!
Fate judges of the rapid strife —
The forfeit²⁶⁸ death – the prize is life!
Thy kindred ambush lies before,
Close couch’d upon the heathery moor;
Them couldst thou reach! – it may not be —
Thine ambush’d kin thou ne’er shalt see,
The fiery Saxon gains on thee!
– Resistless speeds the deadly thrust,
As lightning strikes the pine to dust;
With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain,
Ere he can win his blade again.
Bent o’er the fall’n, with falcon eye,
He grimly smiled to see him die;
Then slower wended back his way,
Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.
 

XXVII

 
She sate beneath the birchen tree,
Her elbow resting on her knee;
She had withdrawn the fatal shaft,
And gazed on it, and feebly laugh’d;
Her wreath of broom and feathers gray,
Daggled²⁶⁹ with blood, beside her lay.
The Knight to stanch the life-stream tried, —
“Stranger, it is in vain!” she cried.
“This hour of death has given me more
Of reason’s power than years before;
For, as these ebbing veins decay,
My frenzied visions fade away.
A helpless injured wretch I die,
And something tells me in thine eye,
That thou wert mine avenger born. —
Seest thou this tress? – Oh! still I’ve worn
This little tress of yellow hair,
Through danger, frenzy, and despair!
It once was bright and clear as thine,
But blood and tears have dimm’d its shine.
I will not tell thee when ’twas shred,
Nor from what guiltless victim’s head —
My brain would turn! – but it shall wave
Like plumage on thy helmet brave,
Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,
And thou wilt bring it me again. —
I waver still. – O God! more bright
Let reason beam her parting light! —
Oh! by thy knighthood’s honor’d sign,
And for thy life preserved by mine,
When thou shalt see a darksome man,
Who boasts him Chief of Alpine’s Clan,
With tartans broad, and shadowy plume,
And hand of blood, and brow of gloom,
Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong,
And wreak²⁷⁰ poor Blanche of Devan’s wrong!
They watch for thee by pass and fell …
Avoid the path … O God!.. farewell.”
 

XXVIII

 
A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James;
Fast pour’d his eyes at pity’s claims;
And now with mingled grief and ire,
He saw the murder’d maid expire.
“God, in my need, be my relief,
As I wreak this on yonder Chief!”
A lock from Blanche’s tresses fair
He blended with her bridegroom’s hair;
The mingled braid in blood he dyed,
And placed it on his bonnet-side:
“By Him whose word is truth! I swear,
No other favor will I wear,
Till this sad token I imbrue
In the best blood of Roderick Dhu.
– But hark! what means yon faint halloo?
The chase is up, – but they shall know,
The stag at bay’s a dangerous foe.”
Barr’d from the known but guarded way,
Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray,
And oft must change his desperate track,
By stream and precipice turn’d back.
Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,
From lack of food and loss of strength,
He couch’d him in a thicket hoar,
And thought his toils and perils o’er: —
“Of all my rash adventures past,
This frantic feat must prove the last!
Who e’er so mad but might have guess’d,
That all this Highland hornet’s nest
Would muster up in swarms so soon
As e’er they heard of bands²⁷¹ at Doune?
Like bloodhounds now they search me out, —
Hark, to the whistle and the shout! —
If farther through the wilds I go,
I only fall upon the foe:
I’ll couch me here till evening gray,
Then darkling try my dangerous way.”
 

XXIX

 
The shades of eve come slowly down,
The woods are wrapt in deeper brown,
The owl awakens from her dell,
The fox is heard upon the fell;
Enough remains of glimmering light
To guide the wanderer’s steps aright,
Yet not enough from far to show
His figure to the watchful foe.
With cautious step, and ear awake,
He climbs the crag and threads the brake;
And not the summer solstice,²⁷² there,
Temper’d the midnight mountain air,
But every breeze, that swept the wold,
Benumb’d his drenched limbs with cold.
In dread, in danger, and alone,
Famish’d and chill’d, through ways unknown,
Tangled and steep, he journey’d on;
Till, as a rock’s huge point he turn’d,
A watch fire close before him burn’d.
 

XXX

 
Beside its embers red and clear,
Bask’d, in his plaid, a mountaineer;
And up he sprung with sword in hand, —
“Thy name and purpose? Saxon, stand!” —
“A stranger.” – “What dost thou require?” —
“Rest and a guide, and food and fire.
My life’s beset, my path is lost,
The gale has chill’d my limbs with frost.” —
“Art thou a friend to Roderick?” – “No.” —
“Thou darest not call thyself a foe?” —
“I dare! to him and all the band
He brings to aid his murderous hand.” —
“Bold words! – but, though the beast of game
The privilege of chase may claim,
Though space and law the stag we lend,
Ere hound we slip,²⁷³ or bow we bend,
Who ever reck’d, where, how, or when,
The prowling fox was trapp’d or slain?
Thus treacherous scouts, – yet sure they lie,
Who say them earnest a secret spy!” —
“They do, by Heaven! – Come Roderick Dhu,
And of his clan the boldest two,
And let me but till morning rest,
I write the falsehood on their crest.” —
“If by the blaze I mark aright,
Thou bear’st the belt and spur of Knight.” —
“Then by these tokens mayest thou know
Each proud oppressor’s mortal foe.” —
“Enough, enough; – sit down, and share
A soldier’s couch, a soldier’s fare.”
 

XXXI

 
He gave him of his Highland cheer,
The harden’d flesh of mountain deer;
Dry fuel on the fire he laid,
And bade the Saxon share his plaid.
He tended him like welcome guest,
Then thus his farther speech address’d: —
“Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu
A clansman born, a kinsman true;
Each word against his honor spoke,
Demands of me avenging stroke;
Yet more, upon thy fate, ’tis said,
A mighty augury²⁷⁴ is laid.
It rests with me to wind my horn, —
Thou art with numbers overborne;
It rests with me, here, brand to brand,
Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand:
But, not for clan, nor kindred’s cause,
Will I depart from honor’s laws;
To assail a wearied man were shame,
And stranger is a holy name;
Guidance and rest, and food and fire,
In vain he never must require.
Then rest thee here till dawn of day;
Myself will guide thee on the way,
O’er stock and stone, through watch and ward,
Till past Clan-Alpine’s utmost guard,
As far as Coilantogle’s ford;
From thence thy warrant²⁷⁵ is thy sword.” —
“I take thy courtesy, by Heaven,
As freely as ’tis nobly given!” —
“Well, rest thee; for the bittern’s cry
Sings us the lake’s wild lullaby.”
With that he shook the gather’d heath,
And spread his plaid upon the wreath;
And the brave foemen, side by side,
Lay peaceful down, like brothers tried,
And slept until the dawning beam
Purpled the mountain and the stream.