Now back they wend their watery way,And, “O my sire!” did Ellen say,"Why urge thy chase so far astray?And why so late return’d? And why"—The rest was in her speaking eye.“My child, the chase I follow far,’Tis mimicry of noble war;And with that gallant pastime reftWere all of Douglas I have left.I met young Malcolm as I stray’dFar eastward, in Glenfinlas’ shade.Nor stray’d I safe; for, all around,Hunters and horsemen scour’d the ground.This youth, though still a royal ward,[139]Risk’d life and land to be my guard,And through the passes of the woodGuided my steps, not unpursued;And Roderick shall his welcome make,Despite old spleen,[140]for Douglas’ sake.Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen,Nor peril aught for me agen.”
Now back they wend their watery way,And, “O my sire!” did Ellen say,"Why urge thy chase so far astray?And why so late return’d? And why"—The rest was in her speaking eye.“My child, the chase I follow far,’Tis mimicry of noble war;And with that gallant pastime reftWere all of Douglas I have left.I met young Malcolm as I stray’dFar eastward, in Glenfinlas’ shade.Nor stray’d I safe; for, all around,Hunters and horsemen scour’d the ground.This youth, though still a royal ward,[139]Risk’d life and land to be my guard,And through the passes of the woodGuided my steps, not unpursued;And Roderick shall his welcome make,Despite old spleen,[140]for Douglas’ sake.Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen,Nor peril aught for me agen.”
Now back they wend their watery way,
And, “O my sire!” did Ellen say,
"Why urge thy chase so far astray?
And why so late return’d? And why"—
The rest was in her speaking eye.
“My child, the chase I follow far,
’Tis mimicry of noble war;
And with that gallant pastime reft
Were all of Douglas I have left.
I met young Malcolm as I stray’d
Far eastward, in Glenfinlas’ shade.
Nor stray’d I safe; for, all around,
Hunters and horsemen scour’d the ground.
This youth, though still a royal ward,[139]
Risk’d life and land to be my guard,
And through the passes of the wood
Guided my steps, not unpursued;
And Roderick shall his welcome make,
Despite old spleen,[140]for Douglas’ sake.
Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen,
Nor peril aught for me agen.”
Sir Roderick, who to meet them came,Redden’d at sight of Malcolm Græme,Yet not in action, word, or eye,Fail’d aught in hospitality.In talk and sport they whiled awayThe morning of that summer day;But at high noon a courier lightHeld secret parley with the Knight,Whose moody aspect soon declaredThat evil were the news he heard.Deep thought seem’d toiling in his head;Yet was the evening banquet made,Ere he assembled round the flame,His mother, Douglas, and the Græme,And Ellen too; then cast aroundHis eyes, then fix’d them on the ground,As studying phrase that might availBest to convey unpleasant tale.Long with his dagger’s hilt he play’d,Then raised his haughty brow, and said:—
Sir Roderick, who to meet them came,Redden’d at sight of Malcolm Græme,Yet not in action, word, or eye,Fail’d aught in hospitality.In talk and sport they whiled awayThe morning of that summer day;But at high noon a courier lightHeld secret parley with the Knight,Whose moody aspect soon declaredThat evil were the news he heard.Deep thought seem’d toiling in his head;Yet was the evening banquet made,Ere he assembled round the flame,His mother, Douglas, and the Græme,And Ellen too; then cast aroundHis eyes, then fix’d them on the ground,As studying phrase that might availBest to convey unpleasant tale.Long with his dagger’s hilt he play’d,Then raised his haughty brow, and said:—
Sir Roderick, who to meet them came,
Redden’d at sight of Malcolm Græme,
Yet not in action, word, or eye,
Fail’d aught in hospitality.
In talk and sport they whiled away
The morning of that summer day;
But at high noon a courier light
Held secret parley with the Knight,
Whose moody aspect soon declared
That evil were the news he heard.
Deep thought seem’d toiling in his head;
Yet was the evening banquet made,
Ere he assembled round the flame,
His mother, Douglas, and the Græme,
And Ellen too; then cast around
His eyes, then fix’d them on the ground,
As studying phrase that might avail
Best to convey unpleasant tale.
Long with his dagger’s hilt he play’d,
Then raised his haughty brow, and said:—
“Short be my speech;—nor time affords,Nor my plain temper, glozing[141]words.Kinsman and father,—if such nameDouglas vouchsafe to Roderick’s claim;Mine honor’d mother;—Ellen—why,My cousin, turn away thine eye?—And Græme; in whom I hope to know—Full soon a noble friend or foe,When age shall give thee thy commandAnd leading in thy native land,—List all!—The King’s vindictive prideBoasts to have tamed the Border-side,Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who cameTo share their monarch’s silvan game,Themselves in bloody toils were snared;And when the banquet they prepared,And wide their loyal portals flung,O’er their own gateway struggling hung.[142]Loud cries their blood from Meggat’s[143]mead,From Yarrow[144]braes,[145]and banks of Tweed,Where the lone streams of Ettrick[146]glide,And from the silver Teviot’s[147]side;The dales, where martial clans did ride,Are now one sheep-walk,[148]waste and wide.This tyrant of the Scottish throne,So faithless and so ruthless known,Now hither comes; his end the same,The same pretext of silvan game.What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge yeBy fate of Border chivalry.Yet more; amid Glenfinlas green,Douglas, thy stately form was seen—This by espial sure I know:Your counsel, in the streight I show.”[149]
“Short be my speech;—nor time affords,Nor my plain temper, glozing[141]words.Kinsman and father,—if such nameDouglas vouchsafe to Roderick’s claim;Mine honor’d mother;—Ellen—why,My cousin, turn away thine eye?—And Græme; in whom I hope to know—Full soon a noble friend or foe,When age shall give thee thy commandAnd leading in thy native land,—List all!—The King’s vindictive prideBoasts to have tamed the Border-side,Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who cameTo share their monarch’s silvan game,Themselves in bloody toils were snared;And when the banquet they prepared,And wide their loyal portals flung,O’er their own gateway struggling hung.[142]Loud cries their blood from Meggat’s[143]mead,From Yarrow[144]braes,[145]and banks of Tweed,Where the lone streams of Ettrick[146]glide,And from the silver Teviot’s[147]side;The dales, where martial clans did ride,Are now one sheep-walk,[148]waste and wide.This tyrant of the Scottish throne,So faithless and so ruthless known,Now hither comes; his end the same,The same pretext of silvan game.What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge yeBy fate of Border chivalry.Yet more; amid Glenfinlas green,Douglas, thy stately form was seen—This by espial sure I know:Your counsel, in the streight I show.”[149]
“Short be my speech;—nor time affords,
Nor my plain temper, glozing[141]words.
Kinsman and father,—if such name
Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick’s claim;
Mine honor’d mother;—Ellen—why,
My cousin, turn away thine eye?—
And Græme; in whom I hope to know—
Full soon a noble friend or foe,
When age shall give thee thy command
And leading in thy native land,—
List all!—The King’s vindictive pride
Boasts to have tamed the Border-side,
Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came
To share their monarch’s silvan game,
Themselves in bloody toils were snared;
And when the banquet they prepared,
And wide their loyal portals flung,
O’er their own gateway struggling hung.[142]
Loud cries their blood from Meggat’s[143]mead,
From Yarrow[144]braes,[145]and banks of Tweed,
Where the lone streams of Ettrick[146]glide,
And from the silver Teviot’s[147]side;
The dales, where martial clans did ride,
Are now one sheep-walk,[148]waste and wide.
This tyrant of the Scottish throne,
So faithless and so ruthless known,
Now hither comes; his end the same,
The same pretext of silvan game.
What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye
By fate of Border chivalry.
Yet more; amid Glenfinlas green,
Douglas, thy stately form was seen—
This by espial sure I know:
Your counsel, in the streight I show.”[149]
Ellen and Margaret fearfullySought comfort in each other’s eye,Then turn’d their ghastly look, each one,This to her sire, that to her son.The hasty color went and cameIn the bold cheek of Malcolm Græme;But from his glance it well appear’d’Twas but for Ellen that he fear’d;While, sorrowful, but undismay’d,The Douglas thus his counsel said:—“Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar,It may but thunder, and pass o’er;Nor will I here remain an hour,To draw the lightning on thy bower;For well thou know’st, at this gray headThe royal bolt were fiercest sped.For thee, who, at thy King’s command,Canst aid him with a gallant band,Submission, homage, humbled pride,Shall turn the monarch’s wrath aside.Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart,[150]Ellen and I will seek, apart,The refuge of some forest cell,There, like the hunted quarry, dwell,Till on the mountain and the moor,The stern pursuit be pass’d and o’er.“
Ellen and Margaret fearfullySought comfort in each other’s eye,Then turn’d their ghastly look, each one,This to her sire, that to her son.The hasty color went and cameIn the bold cheek of Malcolm Græme;But from his glance it well appear’d’Twas but for Ellen that he fear’d;While, sorrowful, but undismay’d,The Douglas thus his counsel said:—“Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar,It may but thunder, and pass o’er;Nor will I here remain an hour,To draw the lightning on thy bower;For well thou know’st, at this gray headThe royal bolt were fiercest sped.For thee, who, at thy King’s command,Canst aid him with a gallant band,Submission, homage, humbled pride,Shall turn the monarch’s wrath aside.Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart,[150]Ellen and I will seek, apart,The refuge of some forest cell,There, like the hunted quarry, dwell,Till on the mountain and the moor,The stern pursuit be pass’d and o’er.“
Ellen and Margaret fearfully
Sought comfort in each other’s eye,
Then turn’d their ghastly look, each one,
This to her sire, that to her son.
The hasty color went and came
In the bold cheek of Malcolm Græme;
But from his glance it well appear’d
’Twas but for Ellen that he fear’d;
While, sorrowful, but undismay’d,
The Douglas thus his counsel said:—
“Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar,
It may but thunder, and pass o’er;
Nor will I here remain an hour,
To draw the lightning on thy bower;
For well thou know’st, at this gray head
The royal bolt were fiercest sped.
For thee, who, at thy King’s command,
Canst aid him with a gallant band,
Submission, homage, humbled pride,
Shall turn the monarch’s wrath aside.
Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart,[150]
Ellen and I will seek, apart,
The refuge of some forest cell,
There, like the hunted quarry, dwell,
Till on the mountain and the moor,
The stern pursuit be pass’d and o’er.“
“No, by mine honor,” Roderick said,“So help me Heaven, and my good blade!No, never! Blasted be yon Pine,My fathers’ ancient crest and mine,If from its shade in danger partThe lineage of the Bleeding Heart!Hear my blunt speech: grant me this maidTo wife, thy counsel to mine aid;To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu,Will friends and allies flock enow;[151]Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief,Will bind to us each Western Chief.When the loud pipes my bridal tell,The Links of Forth[152]shall hear the knell,The guards shall start in Stirling’s[153]porch;And, when I light the nuptial torch,A thousand villages in flamesShall scare the slumbers of King James!—Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away,And, mother, cease these signs, I pray;I meant not all my heat might say.Small need of inroad, or of fight,When the sage Douglas may uniteEach mountain clan in friendly band,To guard the passes of their land,Till the foil’d King, from pathless glen,Shall bootless turn him home agen.”
“No, by mine honor,” Roderick said,“So help me Heaven, and my good blade!No, never! Blasted be yon Pine,My fathers’ ancient crest and mine,If from its shade in danger partThe lineage of the Bleeding Heart!Hear my blunt speech: grant me this maidTo wife, thy counsel to mine aid;To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu,Will friends and allies flock enow;[151]Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief,Will bind to us each Western Chief.When the loud pipes my bridal tell,The Links of Forth[152]shall hear the knell,The guards shall start in Stirling’s[153]porch;And, when I light the nuptial torch,A thousand villages in flamesShall scare the slumbers of King James!—Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away,And, mother, cease these signs, I pray;I meant not all my heat might say.Small need of inroad, or of fight,When the sage Douglas may uniteEach mountain clan in friendly band,To guard the passes of their land,Till the foil’d King, from pathless glen,Shall bootless turn him home agen.”
“No, by mine honor,” Roderick said,
“So help me Heaven, and my good blade!
No, never! Blasted be yon Pine,
My fathers’ ancient crest and mine,
If from its shade in danger part
The lineage of the Bleeding Heart!
Hear my blunt speech: grant me this maid
To wife, thy counsel to mine aid;
To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu,
Will friends and allies flock enow;[151]
Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief,
Will bind to us each Western Chief.
When the loud pipes my bridal tell,
The Links of Forth[152]shall hear the knell,
The guards shall start in Stirling’s[153]porch;
And, when I light the nuptial torch,
A thousand villages in flames
Shall scare the slumbers of King James!
—Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away,
And, mother, cease these signs, I pray;
I meant not all my heat might say.
Small need of inroad, or of fight,
When the sage Douglas may unite
Each mountain clan in friendly band,
To guard the passes of their land,
Till the foil’d King, from pathless glen,
Shall bootless turn him home agen.”
There are who have, at midnight hour,In slumber scaled a dizzy tower,And, on the verge that beetled o’erThe ocean tide’s incessant roar,Dream’d calmly out their dangerous dream,Till waken’d by the morning beam;When, dazzled by the eastern glow,Such startler[154]cast his glance below,And saw unmeasured depth around,And heard unintermitted sound,And thought the battled fence[155]so frail,It waved like cobweb in the gale;—Amid his senses’ giddy wheel,Did he not desperate impulse feel,Headlong to plunge himself below,And meet the worst his fears foreshow?—Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound,[156]As sudden ruin yawn’d around,By crossing[157]terrors wildly toss’d,Still for the Douglas fearing most,Could scarce the desperate thought withstand,To buy his safety with her hand.
There are who have, at midnight hour,In slumber scaled a dizzy tower,And, on the verge that beetled o’erThe ocean tide’s incessant roar,Dream’d calmly out their dangerous dream,Till waken’d by the morning beam;When, dazzled by the eastern glow,Such startler[154]cast his glance below,And saw unmeasured depth around,And heard unintermitted sound,And thought the battled fence[155]so frail,It waved like cobweb in the gale;—Amid his senses’ giddy wheel,Did he not desperate impulse feel,Headlong to plunge himself below,And meet the worst his fears foreshow?—Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound,[156]As sudden ruin yawn’d around,By crossing[157]terrors wildly toss’d,Still for the Douglas fearing most,Could scarce the desperate thought withstand,To buy his safety with her hand.
There are who have, at midnight hour,
In slumber scaled a dizzy tower,
And, on the verge that beetled o’er
The ocean tide’s incessant roar,
Dream’d calmly out their dangerous dream,
Till waken’d by the morning beam;
When, dazzled by the eastern glow,
Such startler[154]cast his glance below,
And saw unmeasured depth around,
And heard unintermitted sound,
And thought the battled fence[155]so frail,
It waved like cobweb in the gale;—
Amid his senses’ giddy wheel,
Did he not desperate impulse feel,
Headlong to plunge himself below,
And meet the worst his fears foreshow?—
Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound,[156]
As sudden ruin yawn’d around,
By crossing[157]terrors wildly toss’d,
Still for the Douglas fearing most,
Could scarce the desperate thought withstand,
To buy his safety with her hand.
Such purpose dread could Malcolm spyIn Ellen’s quivering lip and eye,And eager rose to speak—but ereHis tongue could hurry forth his fear,Had Douglas mark’d the hectic strife,Where death seem’d combating with life;For to her cheek, in feverish flood,One instant rush’d the throbbing blood,Then ebbing back, with sudden sway,Left its domain as wan as clay.“Roderick, enough! enough!” he cried,“My daughter cannot be thy bride;Not that the blush to wooer dear,Nor paleness that of maiden fear.It may not be—forgive her, Chief,Nor hazard aught for our relief.Against his sovereign, Douglas ne’erWill level a rebellious spear.’Twas I that taught his youthful handTo rein a steed and wield a brand;I see him yet, the princely boy!Not Ellen more my pride and joy;I love him still, despite my wrongs,By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues.Oh, seek the grace you well may find,Without a cause to mine combined.”
Such purpose dread could Malcolm spyIn Ellen’s quivering lip and eye,And eager rose to speak—but ereHis tongue could hurry forth his fear,Had Douglas mark’d the hectic strife,Where death seem’d combating with life;For to her cheek, in feverish flood,One instant rush’d the throbbing blood,Then ebbing back, with sudden sway,Left its domain as wan as clay.“Roderick, enough! enough!” he cried,“My daughter cannot be thy bride;Not that the blush to wooer dear,Nor paleness that of maiden fear.It may not be—forgive her, Chief,Nor hazard aught for our relief.Against his sovereign, Douglas ne’erWill level a rebellious spear.’Twas I that taught his youthful handTo rein a steed and wield a brand;I see him yet, the princely boy!Not Ellen more my pride and joy;I love him still, despite my wrongs,By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues.Oh, seek the grace you well may find,Without a cause to mine combined.”
Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy
In Ellen’s quivering lip and eye,
And eager rose to speak—but ere
His tongue could hurry forth his fear,
Had Douglas mark’d the hectic strife,
Where death seem’d combating with life;
For to her cheek, in feverish flood,
One instant rush’d the throbbing blood,
Then ebbing back, with sudden sway,
Left its domain as wan as clay.
“Roderick, enough! enough!” he cried,
“My daughter cannot be thy bride;
Not that the blush to wooer dear,
Nor paleness that of maiden fear.
It may not be—forgive her, Chief,
Nor hazard aught for our relief.
Against his sovereign, Douglas ne’er
Will level a rebellious spear.
’Twas I that taught his youthful hand
To rein a steed and wield a brand;
I see him yet, the princely boy!
Not Ellen more my pride and joy;
I love him still, despite my wrongs,
By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues.
Oh, seek the grace you well may find,
Without a cause to mine combined.”
Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode;The waving of his tartans broad,And darken’d brow, where wounded prideWith ire and disappointment vied,Seem’d, by the torch’s gloomy light,Like the ill Demon of the night,Stooping his pinions’ shadowy swayUpon the nighted pilgrim’s way:But, unrequited Love! thy dartPlunged deepest its envenom’d smart,And Roderick, with thine anguish stung,At length the hand of Douglas wrung,While eyes that mock’d at tears before,With bitter drops were running o’er.The death pangs of long-cherish’d hopeScarce in that ample breast had scope,But, struggling with his spirit proud,Convulsive heaved its checker’d shroud,[158]While every sob—so mute were all—Was heard distinctly through the hall.The son’s despair, the mother’s look,Ill might the gentle Ellen brook;She rose, and to her side there came,To aid her parting steps, the Græme.
Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode;The waving of his tartans broad,And darken’d brow, where wounded prideWith ire and disappointment vied,Seem’d, by the torch’s gloomy light,Like the ill Demon of the night,Stooping his pinions’ shadowy swayUpon the nighted pilgrim’s way:But, unrequited Love! thy dartPlunged deepest its envenom’d smart,And Roderick, with thine anguish stung,At length the hand of Douglas wrung,While eyes that mock’d at tears before,With bitter drops were running o’er.The death pangs of long-cherish’d hopeScarce in that ample breast had scope,But, struggling with his spirit proud,Convulsive heaved its checker’d shroud,[158]While every sob—so mute were all—Was heard distinctly through the hall.The son’s despair, the mother’s look,Ill might the gentle Ellen brook;She rose, and to her side there came,To aid her parting steps, the Græme.
Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode;
The waving of his tartans broad,
And darken’d brow, where wounded pride
With ire and disappointment vied,
Seem’d, by the torch’s gloomy light,
Like the ill Demon of the night,
Stooping his pinions’ shadowy sway
Upon the nighted pilgrim’s way:
But, unrequited Love! thy dart
Plunged deepest its envenom’d smart,
And Roderick, with thine anguish stung,
At length the hand of Douglas wrung,
While eyes that mock’d at tears before,
With bitter drops were running o’er.
The death pangs of long-cherish’d hope
Scarce in that ample breast had scope,
But, struggling with his spirit proud,
Convulsive heaved its checker’d shroud,[158]
While every sob—so mute were all—
Was heard distinctly through the hall.
The son’s despair, the mother’s look,
Ill might the gentle Ellen brook;
She rose, and to her side there came,
To aid her parting steps, the Græme.
Then Roderick from the Douglas broke—As flashes flame through sable smoke,Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low,To one broad blaze of ruddy glow,So the deep anguish of despairBurst, in fierce jealousy, to air.With stalwart grasp his hand he laidOn Malcolm’s breast and belted plaid:“Back, beardless boy!” he sternly said,“Back, minion! hold’st thou thus at naughtThe lesson I so lately taught?This roof, the Douglas, and that maid,Thank thou for punishment delay’d.”Eager as greyhound on his game,Fiercely with Roderick grappled Græme.“Perish my name, if aught affordIts Chieftain safety save his sword!”Thus as they strove, their desperate handGriped to the dagger or the brand,And death had been—but Douglas rose,And thrust between the struggling foesHis giant strength:—“Chieftains, forego!I hold the first who strikes, my foe.—Madmen, forbear your frantic jar!What! is the Douglas fall’n so far,His daughter’s hand is deem’d the spoilOf such dishonorable broil!”Sullen and slowly they unclasp,As struck with shame, their desperate grasp,And each upon his rival glared,With foot advanced, and blade half bared.
Then Roderick from the Douglas broke—As flashes flame through sable smoke,Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low,To one broad blaze of ruddy glow,So the deep anguish of despairBurst, in fierce jealousy, to air.With stalwart grasp his hand he laidOn Malcolm’s breast and belted plaid:“Back, beardless boy!” he sternly said,“Back, minion! hold’st thou thus at naughtThe lesson I so lately taught?This roof, the Douglas, and that maid,Thank thou for punishment delay’d.”Eager as greyhound on his game,Fiercely with Roderick grappled Græme.“Perish my name, if aught affordIts Chieftain safety save his sword!”Thus as they strove, their desperate handGriped to the dagger or the brand,And death had been—but Douglas rose,And thrust between the struggling foesHis giant strength:—“Chieftains, forego!I hold the first who strikes, my foe.—Madmen, forbear your frantic jar!What! is the Douglas fall’n so far,His daughter’s hand is deem’d the spoilOf such dishonorable broil!”Sullen and slowly they unclasp,As struck with shame, their desperate grasp,And each upon his rival glared,With foot advanced, and blade half bared.
Then Roderick from the Douglas broke—
As flashes flame through sable smoke,
Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low,
To one broad blaze of ruddy glow,
So the deep anguish of despair
Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air.
With stalwart grasp his hand he laid
On Malcolm’s breast and belted plaid:
“Back, beardless boy!” he sternly said,
“Back, minion! hold’st thou thus at naught
The lesson I so lately taught?
This roof, the Douglas, and that maid,
Thank thou for punishment delay’d.”
Eager as greyhound on his game,
Fiercely with Roderick grappled Græme.
“Perish my name, if aught afford
Its Chieftain safety save his sword!”
Thus as they strove, their desperate hand
Griped to the dagger or the brand,
And death had been—but Douglas rose,
And thrust between the struggling foes
His giant strength:—“Chieftains, forego!
I hold the first who strikes, my foe.—
Madmen, forbear your frantic jar!
What! is the Douglas fall’n so far,
His daughter’s hand is deem’d the spoil
Of such dishonorable broil!”
Sullen and slowly they unclasp,
As struck with shame, their desperate grasp,
And each upon his rival glared,
With foot advanced, and blade half bared.
Ere yet the brands aloft were flung,Margaret on Roderick’s mantle hung,And Malcolm heard his Ellen’s scream,As falter’d through terrific dream.Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword,And veil’d his wrath in scornful word:“Rest safe till morning; pity ’twereSuch cheek should feel the midnight air!Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell,Roderick will keep the lake and fell,[159]Nor lackey, with his freeborn clan,The pageant pomp of earthly man.More would he of Clan-Alpine know,Thou canst our strength and passes show.—Malise, what ho!”—his henchman[160]came;“Give our safe-conduct[161]to the Græme.”Young Malcolm answer’d, calm and bold,“Fear nothing for thy favorite hold;The spot an angel deigned to graceIs bless’d, though robbers haunt the place.Thy churlish courtesy for thoseReserve, who fear to be thy foes.As safe to me the mountain wayAt midnight as in blaze of day,Though with his boldest at his back,Even Roderick Dhu beset the track.—Brave Douglas,—lovely Ellen,—nay,Naught here of parting will I say.Earth does not hold a lonesome glenSo secret, but we meet agen.—Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,”He said, and left the silvan bower.
Ere yet the brands aloft were flung,Margaret on Roderick’s mantle hung,And Malcolm heard his Ellen’s scream,As falter’d through terrific dream.Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword,And veil’d his wrath in scornful word:“Rest safe till morning; pity ’twereSuch cheek should feel the midnight air!Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell,Roderick will keep the lake and fell,[159]Nor lackey, with his freeborn clan,The pageant pomp of earthly man.More would he of Clan-Alpine know,Thou canst our strength and passes show.—Malise, what ho!”—his henchman[160]came;“Give our safe-conduct[161]to the Græme.”Young Malcolm answer’d, calm and bold,“Fear nothing for thy favorite hold;The spot an angel deigned to graceIs bless’d, though robbers haunt the place.Thy churlish courtesy for thoseReserve, who fear to be thy foes.As safe to me the mountain wayAt midnight as in blaze of day,Though with his boldest at his back,Even Roderick Dhu beset the track.—Brave Douglas,—lovely Ellen,—nay,Naught here of parting will I say.Earth does not hold a lonesome glenSo secret, but we meet agen.—Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,”He said, and left the silvan bower.
Ere yet the brands aloft were flung,
Margaret on Roderick’s mantle hung,
And Malcolm heard his Ellen’s scream,
As falter’d through terrific dream.
Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword,
And veil’d his wrath in scornful word:
“Rest safe till morning; pity ’twere
Such cheek should feel the midnight air!
Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell,
Roderick will keep the lake and fell,[159]
Nor lackey, with his freeborn clan,
The pageant pomp of earthly man.
More would he of Clan-Alpine know,
Thou canst our strength and passes show.—
Malise, what ho!”—his henchman[160]came;
“Give our safe-conduct[161]to the Græme.”
Young Malcolm answer’d, calm and bold,
“Fear nothing for thy favorite hold;
The spot an angel deigned to grace
Is bless’d, though robbers haunt the place.
Thy churlish courtesy for those
Reserve, who fear to be thy foes.
As safe to me the mountain way
At midnight as in blaze of day,
Though with his boldest at his back,
Even Roderick Dhu beset the track.—
Brave Douglas,—lovely Ellen,—nay,
Naught here of parting will I say.
Earth does not hold a lonesome glen
So secret, but we meet agen.—
Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,”
He said, and left the silvan bower.
Old Allan follow’d to the strand,(Such was the Douglas’s command,)And anxious told, how, on the morn,The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn,The Fiery Cross[162]should circle o’erDale, glen, and valley, down, and moor.Much were the peril to the Græme,From those who to the signal came;Far up the lake ’twere safest land,Himself would row him to the strand.He gave his counsel to the wind,While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind,Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roll’d,His ample plaid in tighten’d fold,And stripp’d his limbs to such arrayAs best might suit the watery way,—
Old Allan follow’d to the strand,(Such was the Douglas’s command,)And anxious told, how, on the morn,The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn,The Fiery Cross[162]should circle o’erDale, glen, and valley, down, and moor.Much were the peril to the Græme,From those who to the signal came;Far up the lake ’twere safest land,Himself would row him to the strand.He gave his counsel to the wind,While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind,Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roll’d,His ample plaid in tighten’d fold,And stripp’d his limbs to such arrayAs best might suit the watery way,—
Old Allan follow’d to the strand,
(Such was the Douglas’s command,)
And anxious told, how, on the morn,
The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn,
The Fiery Cross[162]should circle o’er
Dale, glen, and valley, down, and moor.
Much were the peril to the Græme,
From those who to the signal came;
Far up the lake ’twere safest land,
Himself would row him to the strand.
He gave his counsel to the wind,
While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind,
Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roll’d,
His ample plaid in tighten’d fold,
And stripp’d his limbs to such array
As best might suit the watery way,—
Then spoke abrupt: “Farewell to thee,Pattern of old fidelity!”The Minstrel’s hand he kindly press’d,—“Oh! could I point a place of rest!My sovereign holds in ward my land,My uncle leads my vassal band;To tame his foes, his friends to aid,Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade.Yet, if there be one faithful GræmeWho loves the Chieftain of his name,Not long shall honor’d Douglas dwell,Like hunted stag, in mountain cell;Nor, ere yon pride-swoll’n robber dare,—I may not give the rest to air!Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him naught,Not the poor service of a boat,To waft me to yon mountain side.”Then plunged he in the flashing tide.Bold o’er the flood his head he bore,And stoutly steer’d him from the shore;And Allan strain’d his anxious eye,Far ’mid the lake his form to spy,Darkening across each puny wave,To which the moon her silver gave.Fast as the cormorant could skim,The swimmer plied each active limb;Then landing in the moonlight dell,Loud shouted, of his weal to tell.The Minstrel heard the far halloo,And joyful from the shore withdrew.
Then spoke abrupt: “Farewell to thee,Pattern of old fidelity!”The Minstrel’s hand he kindly press’d,—“Oh! could I point a place of rest!My sovereign holds in ward my land,My uncle leads my vassal band;To tame his foes, his friends to aid,Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade.Yet, if there be one faithful GræmeWho loves the Chieftain of his name,Not long shall honor’d Douglas dwell,Like hunted stag, in mountain cell;Nor, ere yon pride-swoll’n robber dare,—I may not give the rest to air!Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him naught,Not the poor service of a boat,To waft me to yon mountain side.”Then plunged he in the flashing tide.Bold o’er the flood his head he bore,And stoutly steer’d him from the shore;And Allan strain’d his anxious eye,Far ’mid the lake his form to spy,Darkening across each puny wave,To which the moon her silver gave.Fast as the cormorant could skim,The swimmer plied each active limb;Then landing in the moonlight dell,Loud shouted, of his weal to tell.The Minstrel heard the far halloo,And joyful from the shore withdrew.
Then spoke abrupt: “Farewell to thee,
Pattern of old fidelity!”
The Minstrel’s hand he kindly press’d,—
“Oh! could I point a place of rest!
My sovereign holds in ward my land,
My uncle leads my vassal band;
To tame his foes, his friends to aid,
Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade.
Yet, if there be one faithful Græme
Who loves the Chieftain of his name,
Not long shall honor’d Douglas dwell,
Like hunted stag, in mountain cell;
Nor, ere yon pride-swoll’n robber dare,—
I may not give the rest to air!
Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him naught,
Not the poor service of a boat,
To waft me to yon mountain side.”
Then plunged he in the flashing tide.
Bold o’er the flood his head he bore,
And stoutly steer’d him from the shore;
And Allan strain’d his anxious eye,
Far ’mid the lake his form to spy,
Darkening across each puny wave,
To which the moon her silver gave.
Fast as the cormorant could skim,
The swimmer plied each active limb;
Then landing in the moonlight dell,
Loud shouted, of his weal to tell.
The Minstrel heard the far halloo,
And joyful from the shore withdrew.
THE GATHERING.
Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore,Who danced our infancy upon their knee,And told our marveling boyhood legends store,Of their strange ventures happ’d[163]by land or sea,How are they blotted from the things that be!How few, all weak and wither’d of their force,Wait on the verge of dark eternity,Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse,To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless course.Yet live there still who[164]can remember well,How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew,Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell,And solitary heath, the signal knew;And fast the faithful clan around him drew,What time[165]the warning note was keenly wound,What time aloft their kindred banner flew,While clamorous war pipes yell’d the gathering sound,And while the Fiery Cross[166]glanced, like a meteor, round.
Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore,Who danced our infancy upon their knee,And told our marveling boyhood legends store,Of their strange ventures happ’d[163]by land or sea,How are they blotted from the things that be!How few, all weak and wither’d of their force,Wait on the verge of dark eternity,Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse,To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless course.
Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore,
Who danced our infancy upon their knee,
And told our marveling boyhood legends store,
Of their strange ventures happ’d[163]by land or sea,
How are they blotted from the things that be!
How few, all weak and wither’d of their force,
Wait on the verge of dark eternity,
Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse,
To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless course.
Yet live there still who[164]can remember well,How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew,Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell,And solitary heath, the signal knew;And fast the faithful clan around him drew,What time[165]the warning note was keenly wound,What time aloft their kindred banner flew,While clamorous war pipes yell’d the gathering sound,And while the Fiery Cross[166]glanced, like a meteor, round.
Yet live there still who[164]can remember well,
How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew,
Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell,
And solitary heath, the signal knew;
And fast the faithful clan around him drew,
What time[165]the warning note was keenly wound,
What time aloft their kindred banner flew,
While clamorous war pipes yell’d the gathering sound,
And while the Fiery Cross[166]glanced, like a meteor, round.
The summer dawn’s reflected hueTo purple changed Loch Katrine blue;Mildly and soft the western breezeJust kiss’d the lake, just stirr’d the trees;And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,Trembled but dimpled not for joy;The mountain shadows on her breastWere neither broken nor at rest;In bright uncertainty they lie,Like future joys to Fancy’s eye.The water lily to the lightHer chalice rear’d of silver bright;The doe awoke, and to the lawn,Begemm’d with dewdrops, led her fawn;The gray mist left the mountain side,The torrent show’d its glistening pride;Invisible in flecked sky,The lark sent down her revelry;The blackbird and the speckled thrushGood-morrow gave from brake and bush;In answer coo’d the cushat doveHer notes of peace, and rest, and love.
The summer dawn’s reflected hueTo purple changed Loch Katrine blue;Mildly and soft the western breezeJust kiss’d the lake, just stirr’d the trees;And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,Trembled but dimpled not for joy;The mountain shadows on her breastWere neither broken nor at rest;In bright uncertainty they lie,Like future joys to Fancy’s eye.The water lily to the lightHer chalice rear’d of silver bright;The doe awoke, and to the lawn,Begemm’d with dewdrops, led her fawn;The gray mist left the mountain side,The torrent show’d its glistening pride;Invisible in flecked sky,The lark sent down her revelry;The blackbird and the speckled thrushGood-morrow gave from brake and bush;In answer coo’d the cushat doveHer notes of peace, and rest, and love.
The summer dawn’s reflected hue
To purple changed Loch Katrine blue;
Mildly and soft the western breeze
Just kiss’d the lake, just stirr’d the trees;
And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,
Trembled but dimpled not for joy;
The mountain shadows on her breast
Were neither broken nor at rest;
In bright uncertainty they lie,
Like future joys to Fancy’s eye.
The water lily to the light
Her chalice rear’d of silver bright;
The doe awoke, and to the lawn,
Begemm’d with dewdrops, led her fawn;
The gray mist left the mountain side,
The torrent show’d its glistening pride;
Invisible in flecked sky,
The lark sent down her revelry;
The blackbird and the speckled thrush
Good-morrow gave from brake and bush;
In answer coo’d the cushat dove
Her notes of peace, and rest, and love.
No thought of peace, no thought of rest,Assuaged the storm in Roderick’s breast.With sheathed broadsword in his hand,Abrupt he paced the islet strand,And eyed the rising sun, and laidHis hand on his impatient blade.Beneath a rock, his vassals’ careWas prompt the ritual[167]to prepare,With deep and deathful meaning fraught;For such Antiquity had taughtWas preface meet, ere yet abroadThe Cross of Fire should take its road.The shrinking band stood oft aghastAt the impatient glance he cast;—Such glance the mountain eagle threw,As, from the cliffs of Benvenue,She spread her dark sails on the wind,And, high in middle heaven reclined,With her broad shadow on the lake,Silenced the warblers of the brake.
No thought of peace, no thought of rest,Assuaged the storm in Roderick’s breast.With sheathed broadsword in his hand,Abrupt he paced the islet strand,And eyed the rising sun, and laidHis hand on his impatient blade.Beneath a rock, his vassals’ careWas prompt the ritual[167]to prepare,With deep and deathful meaning fraught;For such Antiquity had taughtWas preface meet, ere yet abroadThe Cross of Fire should take its road.The shrinking band stood oft aghastAt the impatient glance he cast;—Such glance the mountain eagle threw,As, from the cliffs of Benvenue,She spread her dark sails on the wind,And, high in middle heaven reclined,With her broad shadow on the lake,Silenced the warblers of the brake.
No thought of peace, no thought of rest,
Assuaged the storm in Roderick’s breast.
With sheathed broadsword in his hand,
Abrupt he paced the islet strand,
And eyed the rising sun, and laid
His hand on his impatient blade.
Beneath a rock, his vassals’ care
Was prompt the ritual[167]to prepare,
With deep and deathful meaning fraught;
For such Antiquity had taught
Was preface meet, ere yet abroad
The Cross of Fire should take its road.
The shrinking band stood oft aghast
At the impatient glance he cast;—
Such glance the mountain eagle threw,
As, from the cliffs of Benvenue,
She spread her dark sails on the wind,
And, high in middle heaven reclined,
With her broad shadow on the lake,
Silenced the warblers of the brake.
A heap of wither’d boughs was piled,Of juniper and rowan[168]wild,Mingled with shivers from the oak,Rent by the lightning’s recent stroke.Brian, the Hermit, by it stood,Barefooted, in his frock and hood.[169]His grisled beard and matted hairObscured a visage of despair;His naked arms and legs, seamed o’er,The scars of frantic penance bore.That monk, of savage form and face,The impending danger of his raceHad drawn[170]from deepest solitude,Far in Benharrow’s[171]bosom rude.Not his the mien of Christian priest,But Druid’s,[172]from the grave released,Whose hardened heart and eye might brookOn human sacrifice to look;And much, ’twas said, of heathen lore,Mixed in the charms he muttered o’er.The hallow’d creed gave only worseAnd deadlier emphasis of curse;No peasant sought that Hermit’s prayer,His cave the pilgrim shunn’d with care,The eager huntsman knew his bound,And in mid-chase called off his hound;Or if, in lonely glen or strath,The desert dweller met his path,He pray’d, and signed the cross between,While terror took devotion’s mien.
A heap of wither’d boughs was piled,Of juniper and rowan[168]wild,Mingled with shivers from the oak,Rent by the lightning’s recent stroke.Brian, the Hermit, by it stood,Barefooted, in his frock and hood.[169]His grisled beard and matted hairObscured a visage of despair;His naked arms and legs, seamed o’er,The scars of frantic penance bore.That monk, of savage form and face,The impending danger of his raceHad drawn[170]from deepest solitude,Far in Benharrow’s[171]bosom rude.Not his the mien of Christian priest,But Druid’s,[172]from the grave released,Whose hardened heart and eye might brookOn human sacrifice to look;And much, ’twas said, of heathen lore,Mixed in the charms he muttered o’er.The hallow’d creed gave only worseAnd deadlier emphasis of curse;No peasant sought that Hermit’s prayer,His cave the pilgrim shunn’d with care,The eager huntsman knew his bound,And in mid-chase called off his hound;Or if, in lonely glen or strath,The desert dweller met his path,He pray’d, and signed the cross between,While terror took devotion’s mien.
A heap of wither’d boughs was piled,
Of juniper and rowan[168]wild,
Mingled with shivers from the oak,
Rent by the lightning’s recent stroke.
Brian, the Hermit, by it stood,
Barefooted, in his frock and hood.[169]
His grisled beard and matted hair
Obscured a visage of despair;
His naked arms and legs, seamed o’er,
The scars of frantic penance bore.
That monk, of savage form and face,
The impending danger of his race
Had drawn[170]from deepest solitude,
Far in Benharrow’s[171]bosom rude.
Not his the mien of Christian priest,
But Druid’s,[172]from the grave released,
Whose hardened heart and eye might brook
On human sacrifice to look;
And much, ’twas said, of heathen lore,
Mixed in the charms he muttered o’er.
The hallow’d creed gave only worse
And deadlier emphasis of curse;
No peasant sought that Hermit’s prayer,
His cave the pilgrim shunn’d with care,
The eager huntsman knew his bound,
And in mid-chase called off his hound;
Or if, in lonely glen or strath,
The desert dweller met his path,
He pray’d, and signed the cross between,
While terror took devotion’s mien.
Of Brian’s birth strange tales were told.His mother watch’d a midnight fold,[173]Built deep within a dreary glen,Where scatter’d lay the bones of men,In some forgotten battle slain,And bleach’d by drifting wind and rain.It might have tamed a warrior’s heart,To view such mockery of his art!The knot-grass fetter’d there the hand,Which once could burst an iron band;Beneath the broad and ample bone,That buckler’d heart to fear unknown,A feeble and a timorous guest,The field-fare[174]framed her lowly nest;There the slow blind-worm left his slimeOn the fleet limbs that mock’d at time;And there, too, lay the leader’s skull,Still wreathed with chaplet, flush’d and full,For heath-bell, with her purple bloom,Supplied the bonnet and the plume.All night, in this sad glen, the maidSate, shrouded in her mantle’s shade:—She said, no shepherd sought her side,No hunter’s hand her snood untied,Yet ne’er again, to braid her hair,The virgin snood did Alice wear;Gone was her maiden glee and sport,Her maiden girdle all too short;Nor sought she, from that fatal night,Or holy church, or blessed rite,But lock’d her secret in her breast,And died in travail, unconfess’d.
Of Brian’s birth strange tales were told.His mother watch’d a midnight fold,[173]Built deep within a dreary glen,Where scatter’d lay the bones of men,In some forgotten battle slain,And bleach’d by drifting wind and rain.It might have tamed a warrior’s heart,To view such mockery of his art!The knot-grass fetter’d there the hand,Which once could burst an iron band;Beneath the broad and ample bone,That buckler’d heart to fear unknown,A feeble and a timorous guest,The field-fare[174]framed her lowly nest;There the slow blind-worm left his slimeOn the fleet limbs that mock’d at time;And there, too, lay the leader’s skull,Still wreathed with chaplet, flush’d and full,For heath-bell, with her purple bloom,Supplied the bonnet and the plume.All night, in this sad glen, the maidSate, shrouded in her mantle’s shade:—She said, no shepherd sought her side,No hunter’s hand her snood untied,Yet ne’er again, to braid her hair,The virgin snood did Alice wear;Gone was her maiden glee and sport,Her maiden girdle all too short;Nor sought she, from that fatal night,Or holy church, or blessed rite,But lock’d her secret in her breast,And died in travail, unconfess’d.
Of Brian’s birth strange tales were told.
His mother watch’d a midnight fold,[173]
Built deep within a dreary glen,
Where scatter’d lay the bones of men,
In some forgotten battle slain,
And bleach’d by drifting wind and rain.
It might have tamed a warrior’s heart,
To view such mockery of his art!
The knot-grass fetter’d there the hand,
Which once could burst an iron band;
Beneath the broad and ample bone,
That buckler’d heart to fear unknown,
A feeble and a timorous guest,
The field-fare[174]framed her lowly nest;
There the slow blind-worm left his slime
On the fleet limbs that mock’d at time;
And there, too, lay the leader’s skull,
Still wreathed with chaplet, flush’d and full,
For heath-bell, with her purple bloom,
Supplied the bonnet and the plume.
All night, in this sad glen, the maid
Sate, shrouded in her mantle’s shade:
—She said, no shepherd sought her side,
No hunter’s hand her snood untied,
Yet ne’er again, to braid her hair,
The virgin snood did Alice wear;
Gone was her maiden glee and sport,
Her maiden girdle all too short;
Nor sought she, from that fatal night,
Or holy church, or blessed rite,
But lock’d her secret in her breast,
And died in travail, unconfess’d.
Alone, among his young compeers,Was Brian from his infant years;A moody and heart-broken boy,Estranged from sympathy and joy,Bearing each taunt which careless tongueOn his mysterious lineage flung.Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale,To wood and stream his hap to wail,Till, frantic, he as truth receivedWhat of his birth the crowd believed,And sought, in mist and meteor fire,To meet and know his Phantom Sire!In vain, to soothe his wayward fate,The cloister oped her pitying gate;In vain, the learning of the ageUnclasp’d the sable-lettered[175]page;Even in its treasures he could findFood for the fever of his mind.Eager he read whatever tellsOf magic, cabala,[176]and spells,And every dark pursuit alliedTo curious and presumptuous pride;Till, with fired brain and nerves o’erstrung,And heart with mystic horrors wrung,Desperate he sought Benharrow’s den,And hid him from the haunts of men.
Alone, among his young compeers,Was Brian from his infant years;A moody and heart-broken boy,Estranged from sympathy and joy,Bearing each taunt which careless tongueOn his mysterious lineage flung.Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale,To wood and stream his hap to wail,Till, frantic, he as truth receivedWhat of his birth the crowd believed,And sought, in mist and meteor fire,To meet and know his Phantom Sire!In vain, to soothe his wayward fate,The cloister oped her pitying gate;In vain, the learning of the ageUnclasp’d the sable-lettered[175]page;Even in its treasures he could findFood for the fever of his mind.Eager he read whatever tellsOf magic, cabala,[176]and spells,And every dark pursuit alliedTo curious and presumptuous pride;Till, with fired brain and nerves o’erstrung,And heart with mystic horrors wrung,Desperate he sought Benharrow’s den,And hid him from the haunts of men.
Alone, among his young compeers,
Was Brian from his infant years;
A moody and heart-broken boy,
Estranged from sympathy and joy,
Bearing each taunt which careless tongue
On his mysterious lineage flung.
Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale,
To wood and stream his hap to wail,
Till, frantic, he as truth received
What of his birth the crowd believed,
And sought, in mist and meteor fire,
To meet and know his Phantom Sire!
In vain, to soothe his wayward fate,
The cloister oped her pitying gate;
In vain, the learning of the age
Unclasp’d the sable-lettered[175]page;
Even in its treasures he could find
Food for the fever of his mind.
Eager he read whatever tells
Of magic, cabala,[176]and spells,
And every dark pursuit allied
To curious and presumptuous pride;
Till, with fired brain and nerves o’erstrung,
And heart with mystic horrors wrung,
Desperate he sought Benharrow’s den,
And hid him from the haunts of men.
The desert gave him visions wild,Such as might suit the specter’s child.Where with black cliffs the torrents toil,He watch’d the wheeling eddies boil,Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyesBeheld the River Demon[177]rise;The mountain mist took form and limb,Of noontide hag, or goblin grim;The midnight wind came wild and dread,Swell’d with the voices of the dead;Far on the future battle heathHis eye beheld the ranks of death:Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurl’d,Shaped forth a disembodied world.One lingering sympathy of mindStill bound him to the mortal kind;The only parent he could claimOf ancient Alpine’s lineage came.Late had he heard, in prophet’s dream,The fatal Ben-Shie’s[178]boding scream;Sounds,[179]too, had come in midnight blast,Of charging steeds, careering fastAlong Benharrow’s shingly side,Where mortal horseman ne’er might ride;The thunderbolt had split the pine,—All augur’d ill to Alpine’s line.He girt his loins, and came to showThe signals of impending woe,And now stood prompt to bless or ban,[180]As bade the Chieftain of his clan.
The desert gave him visions wild,Such as might suit the specter’s child.Where with black cliffs the torrents toil,He watch’d the wheeling eddies boil,Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyesBeheld the River Demon[177]rise;The mountain mist took form and limb,Of noontide hag, or goblin grim;The midnight wind came wild and dread,Swell’d with the voices of the dead;Far on the future battle heathHis eye beheld the ranks of death:Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurl’d,Shaped forth a disembodied world.One lingering sympathy of mindStill bound him to the mortal kind;The only parent he could claimOf ancient Alpine’s lineage came.Late had he heard, in prophet’s dream,The fatal Ben-Shie’s[178]boding scream;Sounds,[179]too, had come in midnight blast,Of charging steeds, careering fastAlong Benharrow’s shingly side,Where mortal horseman ne’er might ride;The thunderbolt had split the pine,—All augur’d ill to Alpine’s line.He girt his loins, and came to showThe signals of impending woe,And now stood prompt to bless or ban,[180]As bade the Chieftain of his clan.
The desert gave him visions wild,
Such as might suit the specter’s child.
Where with black cliffs the torrents toil,
He watch’d the wheeling eddies boil,
Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes
Beheld the River Demon[177]rise;
The mountain mist took form and limb,
Of noontide hag, or goblin grim;
The midnight wind came wild and dread,
Swell’d with the voices of the dead;
Far on the future battle heath
His eye beheld the ranks of death:
Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurl’d,
Shaped forth a disembodied world.
One lingering sympathy of mind
Still bound him to the mortal kind;
The only parent he could claim
Of ancient Alpine’s lineage came.
Late had he heard, in prophet’s dream,
The fatal Ben-Shie’s[178]boding scream;
Sounds,[179]too, had come in midnight blast,
Of charging steeds, careering fast
Along Benharrow’s shingly side,
Where mortal horseman ne’er might ride;
The thunderbolt had split the pine,—
All augur’d ill to Alpine’s line.
He girt his loins, and came to show
The signals of impending woe,
And now stood prompt to bless or ban,[180]
As bade the Chieftain of his clan.
’Twas all prepared;[181]—and from the rock,A goat, the patriarch of the flock,Before the kindling pile was laid,And pierced by Roderick’s ready blade.Patient the sickening victim eyedThe lifeblood ebb in crimson tide,Down his clogg’d beard and shaggy limb,Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim.The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer,A slender crosslet form’d with care,A cubit’s[182]length in measure due;The shaft and limbs were rods of yew,Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach[183]waveTheir shadows o’er Clan-Alpine’s grave,And, answering Lomond’s breezes deep,Soothe many a chieftain’s endless sleep.The Cross, thus form’d, he held on high,With wasted hand, and haggard eye,And strange and mingled feelings woke,While his anathema he spoke.
’Twas all prepared;[181]—and from the rock,A goat, the patriarch of the flock,Before the kindling pile was laid,And pierced by Roderick’s ready blade.Patient the sickening victim eyedThe lifeblood ebb in crimson tide,Down his clogg’d beard and shaggy limb,Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim.The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer,A slender crosslet form’d with care,A cubit’s[182]length in measure due;The shaft and limbs were rods of yew,Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach[183]waveTheir shadows o’er Clan-Alpine’s grave,And, answering Lomond’s breezes deep,Soothe many a chieftain’s endless sleep.The Cross, thus form’d, he held on high,With wasted hand, and haggard eye,And strange and mingled feelings woke,While his anathema he spoke.
’Twas all prepared;[181]—and from the rock,
A goat, the patriarch of the flock,
Before the kindling pile was laid,
And pierced by Roderick’s ready blade.
Patient the sickening victim eyed
The lifeblood ebb in crimson tide,
Down his clogg’d beard and shaggy limb,
Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim.
The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer,
A slender crosslet form’d with care,
A cubit’s[182]length in measure due;
The shaft and limbs were rods of yew,
Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach[183]wave
Their shadows o’er Clan-Alpine’s grave,
And, answering Lomond’s breezes deep,
Soothe many a chieftain’s endless sleep.
The Cross, thus form’d, he held on high,
With wasted hand, and haggard eye,
And strange and mingled feelings woke,
While his anathema he spoke.
“Woe to the clansman who shall viewThis symbol of sepulchral yew,Forgetful that its branches grewWhere weep the heavens their holiest dewOn Alpine’s dwelling low!Deserter of his Chieftain’s trust,He ne’er shall mingle with their dust,But, from his sires and kindred thrust,Each clansman’s execration justShall doom him wrath and woe.”He paused;—the word the vassals took,With forward step and fiery look,On high their naked brands they shook,Their clattering targets wildly strook;[184]And first in murmur low,Then, like the billow in his course,That far to seaward finds his source,And flings to shore his muster’d force,Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse,“Woe to the traitor, woe!”Ben-an’s gray scalp the accents knew,[185]The joyous wolf from covert drew,The exulting eagle scream’d afar,—They knew the voice of Alpine’s war.
“Woe to the clansman who shall viewThis symbol of sepulchral yew,Forgetful that its branches grewWhere weep the heavens their holiest dewOn Alpine’s dwelling low!Deserter of his Chieftain’s trust,He ne’er shall mingle with their dust,But, from his sires and kindred thrust,Each clansman’s execration justShall doom him wrath and woe.”He paused;—the word the vassals took,With forward step and fiery look,On high their naked brands they shook,Their clattering targets wildly strook;[184]And first in murmur low,Then, like the billow in his course,That far to seaward finds his source,And flings to shore his muster’d force,Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse,“Woe to the traitor, woe!”Ben-an’s gray scalp the accents knew,[185]The joyous wolf from covert drew,The exulting eagle scream’d afar,—They knew the voice of Alpine’s war.
“Woe to the clansman who shall view
This symbol of sepulchral yew,
Forgetful that its branches grew
Where weep the heavens their holiest dew
On Alpine’s dwelling low!
Deserter of his Chieftain’s trust,
He ne’er shall mingle with their dust,
But, from his sires and kindred thrust,
Each clansman’s execration just
Shall doom him wrath and woe.”
He paused;—the word the vassals took,
With forward step and fiery look,
On high their naked brands they shook,
Their clattering targets wildly strook;[184]
And first in murmur low,
Then, like the billow in his course,
That far to seaward finds his source,
And flings to shore his muster’d force,
Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse,
“Woe to the traitor, woe!”
Ben-an’s gray scalp the accents knew,[185]
The joyous wolf from covert drew,
The exulting eagle scream’d afar,—
They knew the voice of Alpine’s war.
The shout was hush’d on lake and fell,The monk resumed his mutter’d spell:Dismal and low its accents came,The while he scathed[186]the Cross with flame;And the few words that reach’d the air,Although the holiest name was there,Had more of blasphemy than prayer.But when he shook above the crowdIts kindled points, he spoke aloud:—“Woe to the wretch who fails to rearAt this dread sign the ready spear!For, as the flames this symbol sear,His home, the refuge of his fear,A kindred fate shall know;Far o’er its roof the volumed flameClan-Alpine’s vengeance shall proclaim,While maids and matrons on his nameShall call down wretchedness and shame,And infamy and woe.”Then rose the cry of females, shrillAs goshawk’s whistle on the hill,Denouncing[187]misery and ill,Mingled with childhood’s babbling trillOf curses stammer’d slow;Answering, with imprecation dread,“Sunk be his home in embers red!And cursed be the meanest shedThat e’er shall hide the houseless head,We doom to want and woe!”A sharp and shrieking echo gave,Coir-Uriskin,[188]thy Goblin-cave!And the gray pass where birches waveOn Beala-nam-bo.[189]
The shout was hush’d on lake and fell,The monk resumed his mutter’d spell:Dismal and low its accents came,The while he scathed[186]the Cross with flame;And the few words that reach’d the air,Although the holiest name was there,Had more of blasphemy than prayer.But when he shook above the crowdIts kindled points, he spoke aloud:—“Woe to the wretch who fails to rearAt this dread sign the ready spear!For, as the flames this symbol sear,His home, the refuge of his fear,A kindred fate shall know;Far o’er its roof the volumed flameClan-Alpine’s vengeance shall proclaim,While maids and matrons on his nameShall call down wretchedness and shame,And infamy and woe.”Then rose the cry of females, shrillAs goshawk’s whistle on the hill,Denouncing[187]misery and ill,Mingled with childhood’s babbling trillOf curses stammer’d slow;Answering, with imprecation dread,“Sunk be his home in embers red!And cursed be the meanest shedThat e’er shall hide the houseless head,We doom to want and woe!”A sharp and shrieking echo gave,Coir-Uriskin,[188]thy Goblin-cave!And the gray pass where birches waveOn Beala-nam-bo.[189]
The shout was hush’d on lake and fell,
The monk resumed his mutter’d spell:
Dismal and low its accents came,
The while he scathed[186]the Cross with flame;
And the few words that reach’d the air,
Although the holiest name was there,
Had more of blasphemy than prayer.
But when he shook above the crowd
Its kindled points, he spoke aloud:—
“Woe to the wretch who fails to rear
At this dread sign the ready spear!
For, as the flames this symbol sear,
His home, the refuge of his fear,
A kindred fate shall know;
Far o’er its roof the volumed flame
Clan-Alpine’s vengeance shall proclaim,
While maids and matrons on his name
Shall call down wretchedness and shame,
And infamy and woe.”
Then rose the cry of females, shrill
As goshawk’s whistle on the hill,
Denouncing[187]misery and ill,
Mingled with childhood’s babbling trill
Of curses stammer’d slow;
Answering, with imprecation dread,
“Sunk be his home in embers red!
And cursed be the meanest shed
That e’er shall hide the houseless head,
We doom to want and woe!”
A sharp and shrieking echo gave,
Coir-Uriskin,[188]thy Goblin-cave!
And the gray pass where birches wave
On Beala-nam-bo.[189]
Then deeper paused the priest anew,And hard his laboring breath he drew,While, with set teeth and clinched hand,And eyes that glow’d like fiery brand,He meditated curse more dread,And deadlier, on the clansman’s head,Who, summon’d to his Chieftain’s aid,The signal saw and disobeyed.The crosslet’s points of sparkling woodHe quenched among the bubbling blood,And, as again the sign he rear’d,Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard:"When flits this Cross from man to man,Vich-Alpine’s summons to his clan,Burst be the ear that fails to heed!Palsied the foot that shuns to speed!May ravens tear the careless eyes,Wolves make the coward heart their prize!As sinks that blood stream in the earth,So may his heart’s blood drench his hearth!As dies in hissing gore the spark,Quench thou his light, Destruction dark,And be the grace to him denied,Bought by this sign to all beside!"He ceased; no echo gave agenThe murmur of the deep Amen.
Then deeper paused the priest anew,And hard his laboring breath he drew,While, with set teeth and clinched hand,And eyes that glow’d like fiery brand,He meditated curse more dread,And deadlier, on the clansman’s head,Who, summon’d to his Chieftain’s aid,The signal saw and disobeyed.The crosslet’s points of sparkling woodHe quenched among the bubbling blood,And, as again the sign he rear’d,Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard:"When flits this Cross from man to man,Vich-Alpine’s summons to his clan,Burst be the ear that fails to heed!Palsied the foot that shuns to speed!May ravens tear the careless eyes,Wolves make the coward heart their prize!As sinks that blood stream in the earth,So may his heart’s blood drench his hearth!As dies in hissing gore the spark,Quench thou his light, Destruction dark,And be the grace to him denied,Bought by this sign to all beside!"He ceased; no echo gave agenThe murmur of the deep Amen.
Then deeper paused the priest anew,
And hard his laboring breath he drew,
While, with set teeth and clinched hand,
And eyes that glow’d like fiery brand,
He meditated curse more dread,
And deadlier, on the clansman’s head,
Who, summon’d to his Chieftain’s aid,
The signal saw and disobeyed.
The crosslet’s points of sparkling wood
He quenched among the bubbling blood,
And, as again the sign he rear’d,
Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard:
"When flits this Cross from man to man,
Vich-Alpine’s summons to his clan,
Burst be the ear that fails to heed!
Palsied the foot that shuns to speed!
May ravens tear the careless eyes,
Wolves make the coward heart their prize!
As sinks that blood stream in the earth,
So may his heart’s blood drench his hearth!
As dies in hissing gore the spark,
Quench thou his light, Destruction dark,
And be the grace to him denied,
Bought by this sign to all beside!"
He ceased; no echo gave agen
The murmur of the deep Amen.