675A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James;Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims,And now, with mingled grief and ire,He saw the murdered maid expire."God, in my need, be my relief,680As I wreak this on yonder Chief!"A lock from Blanche's tresses fairHe blended with her bridegroom's hair;The mingled braid in blood he dyed.And placed it on his bonnet-side:685"By Him whose word is truth! I swearNo other favor will I wear,Till this sad token I imbrueIn the best blood of Roderick Dhu!—But hark! what means yon faint halloo?690The chase is up—but they shall know,The stag at bay's a dangerous foe."Barred from the known but guarded way,Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray,And oft must change his desperate track,695By stream and precipice turned back.Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,From lack of food and loss of strength,He couched him in a thicket hoar,And thought his toils and perils o'er:700"Of all my rash adventures past,This frantic feat must prove the last!Who e'er so mad but might have guessed,That all this Highland hornet's nestWould muster up in swarms so soon705As e'er they heard of bands at Doune?Like bloodhounds now they search me out—Hark, to the whistle and the shout!—If further through the wilds I go,I only fall upon the foe.710I'll couch me here till evening gray,Then darkling try my dangerous way."
675A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James;Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims,And now, with mingled grief and ire,He saw the murdered maid expire."God, in my need, be my relief,680As I wreak this on yonder Chief!"A lock from Blanche's tresses fairHe blended with her bridegroom's hair;The mingled braid in blood he dyed.And placed it on his bonnet-side:685"By Him whose word is truth! I swearNo other favor will I wear,Till this sad token I imbrueIn the best blood of Roderick Dhu!—But hark! what means yon faint halloo?690The chase is up—but they shall know,The stag at bay's a dangerous foe."Barred from the known but guarded way,Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray,And oft must change his desperate track,695By stream and precipice turned back.Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,From lack of food and loss of strength,He couched him in a thicket hoar,And thought his toils and perils o'er:700"Of all my rash adventures past,This frantic feat must prove the last!Who e'er so mad but might have guessed,That all this Highland hornet's nestWould muster up in swarms so soon705As e'er they heard of bands at Doune?Like bloodhounds now they search me out—Hark, to the whistle and the shout!—If further through the wilds I go,I only fall upon the foe.710I'll couch me here till evening gray,Then darkling try my dangerous way."
The shades of eve come slowly down,The woods are wrapped in deeper brown,The owl awakens from her dell,715The fox is heard upon the fell;Enough remains of glimmering lightTo guide the wanderer's steps aright,Yet not enough from far to showHis figure to the watchful foe.720With cautious step, and ear awake,He climbs the crag and threads the brake;And not the summer solstice, there,Tempered the midnight mountain air,But every breeze, that swept the wold,725Benumbed his drenchéd limbs with cold.In dread, in danger, and alone,Famished and chilled, through ways unknown,Tangled and steep, he journeyed on;Till, as a rock's huge point he turned,730A watch-fire close before him burned.
The shades of eve come slowly down,The woods are wrapped in deeper brown,The owl awakens from her dell,715The fox is heard upon the fell;Enough remains of glimmering lightTo guide the wanderer's steps aright,Yet not enough from far to showHis figure to the watchful foe.720With cautious step, and ear awake,He climbs the crag and threads the brake;And not the summer solstice, there,Tempered the midnight mountain air,But every breeze, that swept the wold,725Benumbed his drenchéd limbs with cold.In dread, in danger, and alone,Famished and chilled, through ways unknown,Tangled and steep, he journeyed on;Till, as a rock's huge point he turned,730A watch-fire close before him burned.
Beside its embers red and clear,Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer;And up he sprung with sword in hand—"Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!"735"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 chilled my limbs with frost.""Art thou a friend to Roderick?" "No."740"Thou darest not call thyself a foe?""I dare! to him and all the bandHe brings to aid his murderous hand.""Bold words!—but, though the beast of gameThe privilege of chase may claim,745Though space and law the stag we lend,Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend,Who ever recked, where, how, or when,The prowling fox was trapped or slain?Thus treacherous scouts—yet sure they lie,750Who say thou camest 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."755"If by the blaze I mark aright,Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight.""Then by these tokens may'st thou knowEach proud oppressor's mortal foe.""Enough, enough; sit down and share760A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare."
Beside its embers red and clear,Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer;And up he sprung with sword in hand—"Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!"735"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 chilled my limbs with frost.""Art thou a friend to Roderick?" "No."740"Thou darest not call thyself a foe?""I dare! to him and all the bandHe brings to aid his murderous hand.""Bold words!—but, though the beast of gameThe privilege of chase may claim,745Though space and law the stag we lend,Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend,Who ever recked, where, how, or when,The prowling fox was trapped or slain?Thus treacherous scouts—yet sure they lie,750Who say thou camest 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."755"If by the blaze I mark aright,Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight.""Then by these tokens may'st thou knowEach proud oppressor's mortal foe.""Enough, enough; sit down and share760A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare."
He gave him of his Highland cheer,The hardened flesh of mountain deer;Dry fuel on the fire he laid,And bade the Saxon share his plaid.765He tended him like welcome guest,Then thus his further speech addressed:"Stranger, I am to Roderick DhuA clansman born, a kinsman true;Each word against his honor spoke,770Demands of me avenging stroke;Yet more—upon thy fate, 'tis said,A mighty augury is laid.It rests with me to wind my horn—Thou art with numbers overborne;775It 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,780And stranger is a holy name;Guidance and rest, food and fire,In vain he never must require.Then rest thee here till dawn of day;Myself will guide thee on the way,785O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward,Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,As far as Coilantogle's ford;From thence thy warrant is thy sword.""I take thy courtesy, by heaven,790As freely as 'tis nobly given!""Well, rest thee; for the bittern's crySings us the lake's wild lullaby."With that he shook the gathered heath,And spread his plaid upon the wreath;795And the brave foemen, side by side,Lay peaceful down like brothers tried,And slept until the dawning beamPurpled the mountain and the stream.
He gave him of his Highland cheer,The hardened flesh of mountain deer;Dry fuel on the fire he laid,And bade the Saxon share his plaid.765He tended him like welcome guest,Then thus his further speech addressed:"Stranger, I am to Roderick DhuA clansman born, a kinsman true;Each word against his honor spoke,770Demands of me avenging stroke;Yet more—upon thy fate, 'tis said,A mighty augury is laid.It rests with me to wind my horn—Thou art with numbers overborne;775It 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,780And stranger is a holy name;Guidance and rest, food and fire,In vain he never must require.Then rest thee here till dawn of day;Myself will guide thee on the way,785O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward,Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,As far as Coilantogle's ford;From thence thy warrant is thy sword.""I take thy courtesy, by heaven,790As freely as 'tis nobly given!""Well, rest thee; for the bittern's crySings us the lake's wild lullaby."With that he shook the gathered heath,And spread his plaid upon the wreath;795And the brave foemen, side by side,Lay peaceful down like brothers tried,And slept until the dawning beamPurpled the mountain and the stream.
Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light,When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied,It smiles upon the dreary brow of night,And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide,5And lights the fearful path on mountain side;Fair as that beam, although the fairest far,Giving to horror grace, to danger pride,Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star,Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War.
Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light,When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied,It smiles upon the dreary brow of night,And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide,5And lights the fearful path on mountain side;Fair as that beam, although the fairest far,Giving to horror grace, to danger pride,Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star,Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War.
10That early beam, so fair and sheen,Was twinkling through the hazel screen,When rousing at its glimmer red,The warriors left their lowly bed,Looked out upon the dappled sky,15Muttered their soldier matins by,And then awaked their fire, to steal,As short and rude, their soldier meal.That o'er, the Gael around him threwHis graceful plaid of varied hue,20And, true to promise, led the way,By thicket green and mountain gray.A wildering path—they winded nowAlong the precipice's brow,Commanding the rich scenes beneath,25The windings of the Forth and Teith,And all the vales between that lie,Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky;Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glanceGained not the length of horseman's lance.30'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fainAssistance from the hand to gain;So tangled oft, that, bursting through,Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew—That diamond dew, so pure and clear,35It rivals all but Beauty's tear!
10That early beam, so fair and sheen,Was twinkling through the hazel screen,When rousing at its glimmer red,The warriors left their lowly bed,Looked out upon the dappled sky,15Muttered their soldier matins by,And then awaked their fire, to steal,As short and rude, their soldier meal.That o'er, the Gael around him threwHis graceful plaid of varied hue,20And, true to promise, led the way,By thicket green and mountain gray.A wildering path—they winded nowAlong the precipice's brow,Commanding the rich scenes beneath,25The windings of the Forth and Teith,And all the vales between that lie,Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky;Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glanceGained not the length of horseman's lance.30'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fainAssistance from the hand to gain;So tangled oft, that, bursting through,Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew—That diamond dew, so pure and clear,35It rivals all but Beauty's tear!
At length they came where, stern and steep,The hill sinks down upon the deep.Here Vennachar in silver flows,There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose;40Ever the hollow path twined on,Beneath steep bank and threatening stone;An hundred men might hold the postWith hardihood against a host.The rugged mountain's scanty cloak45Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak,With shingles bare, and cliffs between,noteAnd patches bright of bracken green,And heather black, that waved so high,It held the copse in rivalry.50But where the lake slept deep and still,Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill;And oft both path and hill were torn,Where wintry torrents down had borne,And heaped upon the cumbered land55Its wreck of gravel, rocks and sand.So toilsome was the road to trace,The guide, abating of his pace,Led slowly through the pass's jaws,And asked Fitz-James, by what strange cause60He sought these wilds, traversed by few,Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.
At length they came where, stern and steep,The hill sinks down upon the deep.Here Vennachar in silver flows,There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose;40Ever the hollow path twined on,Beneath steep bank and threatening stone;An hundred men might hold the postWith hardihood against a host.The rugged mountain's scanty cloak45Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak,With shingles bare, and cliffs between,noteAnd patches bright of bracken green,And heather black, that waved so high,It held the copse in rivalry.50But where the lake slept deep and still,Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill;And oft both path and hill were torn,Where wintry torrents down had borne,And heaped upon the cumbered land55Its wreck of gravel, rocks and sand.So toilsome was the road to trace,The guide, abating of his pace,Led slowly through the pass's jaws,And asked Fitz-James, by what strange cause60He sought these wilds, traversed by few,Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.
"Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried,Hangs in my belt, and by my side;Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said,65"I dreamt not now to claim its aid.When here, but three days since, I came,Bewildered in pursuit of game,All seemed as peaceful and as stillAs the mist slumbering on yon hill;70Thy dangerous Chief was then afar,Nor soon expected back from war.Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide,Though deep perchance the villian lied.""Yet why a second venture try?"75"A warrior thou, and ask me why!Moves our free course by such fixed causeAs gives the poor mechanic laws?Enough, I sought to drive awayThe lazy hours of peaceful day;80Slight cause will then suffice to guideA Knight's free footsteps far and wide—A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed,The merry glance of mountain maid;Or, if a path be dangerous known,85The danger's self is lure alone."
"Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried,Hangs in my belt, and by my side;Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said,65"I dreamt not now to claim its aid.When here, but three days since, I came,Bewildered in pursuit of game,All seemed as peaceful and as stillAs the mist slumbering on yon hill;70Thy dangerous Chief was then afar,Nor soon expected back from war.Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide,Though deep perchance the villian lied.""Yet why a second venture try?"75"A warrior thou, and ask me why!Moves our free course by such fixed causeAs gives the poor mechanic laws?Enough, I sought to drive awayThe lazy hours of peaceful day;80Slight cause will then suffice to guideA Knight's free footsteps far and wide—A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed,The merry glance of mountain maid;Or, if a path be dangerous known,85The danger's self is lure alone."
"Thy secret keep, I urge thee not;—Yet, ere again ye sought this spot,Say, heard ye nought of Lowland war,Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar?"90"No, by my word—of bands preparedTo guard King James's sports I heard;Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hearThis muster of the mountaineer,Their pennons will abroad be flung,95Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.""Free be they flung!—for we were loathTheir silken folds should feast the moth.Free be they flung!—as free shall waveClan-Alpine's pine in banner brave.100But, Stranger, peaceful since you came,Bewildered in the mountain game,Whence the bold boast by which you showVich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?""Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew105Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu,Save as an outlawed desperate man,The chief of a rebellious clan,Who, in the Regent's court and sight,With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight;110Yet this alone might from his partSever each true and loyal heart."
"Thy secret keep, I urge thee not;—Yet, ere again ye sought this spot,Say, heard ye nought of Lowland war,Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar?"90"No, by my word—of bands preparedTo guard King James's sports I heard;Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hearThis muster of the mountaineer,Their pennons will abroad be flung,95Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.""Free be they flung!—for we were loathTheir silken folds should feast the moth.Free be they flung!—as free shall waveClan-Alpine's pine in banner brave.100But, Stranger, peaceful since you came,Bewildered in the mountain game,Whence the bold boast by which you showVich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?""Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew105Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu,Save as an outlawed desperate man,The chief of a rebellious clan,Who, in the Regent's court and sight,With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight;110Yet this alone might from his partSever each true and loyal heart."
Wrathful at such arraignment foul,Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl.A space he paused, then sternly said,115"And heard'st thou why he drew his blade?Heard'st thou that shameful word and blowBrought Roderick's vengeance on his foe?What recked the Chieftain if he stoodOn Highland heath, or Holy-Rood?120He rights such wrong where it is given,If it were in the court of heaven.""Still was it outrage—yet, 'tis true,Not then claimed sovereignty his due;While Albany, with feeble hand,note125Held borrowed truncheon of command,The young King, mewed in Stirling tower,Was stranger to respect and power.But then, thy Chieftain's robber life!Winning mean prey by causeless strife,130Wrenching from ruined Lowland swainHis herds and harvest reared in vain—Methinks a soul, like thine, should scornThe spoils from such foul foray borne."
Wrathful at such arraignment foul,Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl.A space he paused, then sternly said,115"And heard'st thou why he drew his blade?Heard'st thou that shameful word and blowBrought Roderick's vengeance on his foe?What recked the Chieftain if he stoodOn Highland heath, or Holy-Rood?120He rights such wrong where it is given,If it were in the court of heaven.""Still was it outrage—yet, 'tis true,Not then claimed sovereignty his due;While Albany, with feeble hand,note125Held borrowed truncheon of command,The young King, mewed in Stirling tower,Was stranger to respect and power.But then, thy Chieftain's robber life!Winning mean prey by causeless strife,130Wrenching from ruined Lowland swainHis herds and harvest reared in vain—Methinks a soul, like thine, should scornThe spoils from such foul foray borne."
The Gael beheld him grim the while,135And answered with disdainful smile—"Saxon, from yonder mountain high,I marked thee send delighted eyeFar to the south and east, where lay,Extended in succession gay,140Deep waving fields and pastures green,With gentle slopes and groves between;These fertile plains, that softened vale,Were once the birthright of the Gael;The stranger came with iron hand,145And from our fathers reft the land.Where dwell we now! See, rudely swellCrag over crag, and fell o'er fell.Ask we this savage hill we treadFor fattened steer or household bread;150Ask we for flocks these shingles dry,And well the mountain might reply,'To you, as to your sires of yore,Belong the target and claymore!I give you shelter in my breast,155Your own good blades must win the rest.'Pent in this fortress of the North,Think'st thou we will not sally forth,To spoil the spoiler as we may,And from the robber rend the prey?160Aye, by my soul! While on yon plainThe Saxon rears one shock of grain;While, of ten thousand herds, there straysBut one along yon river's maze,The Gael, of plain and river heir,165Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share.Where live the mountain Chiefs who holdThat plundering Lowland field and foldIs aught but retribution true?Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu."
The Gael beheld him grim the while,135And answered with disdainful smile—"Saxon, from yonder mountain high,I marked thee send delighted eyeFar to the south and east, where lay,Extended in succession gay,140Deep waving fields and pastures green,With gentle slopes and groves between;These fertile plains, that softened vale,Were once the birthright of the Gael;The stranger came with iron hand,145And from our fathers reft the land.Where dwell we now! See, rudely swellCrag over crag, and fell o'er fell.Ask we this savage hill we treadFor fattened steer or household bread;150Ask we for flocks these shingles dry,And well the mountain might reply,'To you, as to your sires of yore,Belong the target and claymore!I give you shelter in my breast,155Your own good blades must win the rest.'Pent in this fortress of the North,Think'st thou we will not sally forth,To spoil the spoiler as we may,And from the robber rend the prey?160Aye, by my soul! While on yon plainThe Saxon rears one shock of grain;While, of ten thousand herds, there straysBut one along yon river's maze,The Gael, of plain and river heir,165Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share.Where live the mountain Chiefs who holdThat plundering Lowland field and foldIs aught but retribution true?Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu."
170Answered Fitz-James, "And if I sought,Think'st thou no other could be brought?What deem ye of my path waylaid?My life given o'er to ambuscade?""As of a meed to rashness due:175Hadst thou sent warning fair and true—I seek my hound, or falcon strayed,I seek, good faith, a Highland maid—Free hadst thou been to come and go;But secret path marks secret foe.180Nor yet, for this, even as a spy,Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die.Save to fulfill an augury.""Well, let it pass; nor will I nowFresh cause of enmity avow,185To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow.Enough, I am by promise tiedTo match me with this man of pride:Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glenIn peace; but when I come again,190I come with banner, brand, and bow,As leader seeks his mortal foe.For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower,Ne'er panted for the appointed hour,As I, until before me stand195This rebel Chieftain and his band!"
170Answered Fitz-James, "And if I sought,Think'st thou no other could be brought?What deem ye of my path waylaid?My life given o'er to ambuscade?""As of a meed to rashness due:175Hadst thou sent warning fair and true—I seek my hound, or falcon strayed,I seek, good faith, a Highland maid—Free hadst thou been to come and go;But secret path marks secret foe.180Nor yet, for this, even as a spy,Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die.Save to fulfill an augury.""Well, let it pass; nor will I nowFresh cause of enmity avow,185To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow.Enough, I am by promise tiedTo match me with this man of pride:Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glenIn peace; but when I come again,190I come with banner, brand, and bow,As leader seeks his mortal foe.For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower,Ne'er panted for the appointed hour,As I, until before me stand195This rebel Chieftain and his band!"
"Have, then, thy wish!" He whistled shrill,And he was answered from the hill;Wild as the scream of the curlew,noteFrom crag to crag the signal flew.200Instant, through copse and heath, aroseBonnets and spears and bended bows;On right, on left, above, below,Sprung up at once the lurking foe;From shingles gray their lances start,205The bracken bush sends forth the dart,The rushes and the willow-wandAre bristling into ax and brand,And every tuft of broom gives lifeTo plaided warrior armed for strife.210That whistle garrisoned the glenAt once with full five hundred men,As if the yawning hill to heavenA subterranean host had given.Watching their leader's beck and will,215All silent there they stood, and still.Like the loose crags whose threatening massLay tottering o'er the hollow pass,As if an infant's touch could urgeTheir headlong passage down the verge,220With step and weapon forward flung,Upon the mountain-side they hung.The Mountaineer cast glance of prideAlong Benledi's living side,Then fixed his eye and sable brow225Full on Fitz-James—"How say'st thou now?These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;And, Saxon—I am Roderick Dhu!"
"Have, then, thy wish!" He whistled shrill,And he was answered from the hill;Wild as the scream of the curlew,noteFrom crag to crag the signal flew.200Instant, through copse and heath, aroseBonnets and spears and bended bows;On right, on left, above, below,Sprung up at once the lurking foe;From shingles gray their lances start,205The bracken bush sends forth the dart,The rushes and the willow-wandAre bristling into ax and brand,And every tuft of broom gives lifeTo plaided warrior armed for strife.210That whistle garrisoned the glenAt once with full five hundred men,As if the yawning hill to heavenA subterranean host had given.Watching their leader's beck and will,215All silent there they stood, and still.Like the loose crags whose threatening massLay tottering o'er the hollow pass,As if an infant's touch could urgeTheir headlong passage down the verge,220With step and weapon forward flung,Upon the mountain-side they hung.The Mountaineer cast glance of prideAlong Benledi's living side,Then fixed his eye and sable brow225Full on Fitz-James—"How say'st thou now?These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;And, Saxon—I am Roderick Dhu!"
Fitz-James was brave. Though to his heartThe life-blood thrilled with sudden start,230He manned himself with dauntless air,Returned the Chief his haughty stare,His back against a rock he bore,And firmly placed his foot before:"Come one, come all! this rock shall fly235From its firm base as soon as I."Sir Roderick marked—and in his eyesRespect was mingled with surprise,And the stern joy which warriors feelIn foemen worthy of their steel.240Short space he stood—then waved his hand;Down sunk the disappearing band;Each warrior vanished where he stood,In broom or bracken, heath or wood;Sunk brand and spear and bended bow,245In osiers pale and copses low;It seemed as if their mother EarthHad swallowed up her warlike birth.The wind's last breath had tossed in air,Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair;250The next but swept a lone hill-side,Where heath and fern were waving wide.The sun's last glance was glinted back,From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,noteThe next, all unreflected, shone255On bracken green, and cold gray stone.
Fitz-James was brave. Though to his heartThe life-blood thrilled with sudden start,230He manned himself with dauntless air,Returned the Chief his haughty stare,His back against a rock he bore,And firmly placed his foot before:"Come one, come all! this rock shall fly235From its firm base as soon as I."Sir Roderick marked—and in his eyesRespect was mingled with surprise,And the stern joy which warriors feelIn foemen worthy of their steel.240Short space he stood—then waved his hand;Down sunk the disappearing band;Each warrior vanished where he stood,In broom or bracken, heath or wood;Sunk brand and spear and bended bow,245In osiers pale and copses low;It seemed as if their mother EarthHad swallowed up her warlike birth.The wind's last breath had tossed in air,Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair;250The next but swept a lone hill-side,Where heath and fern were waving wide.The sun's last glance was glinted back,From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,noteThe next, all unreflected, shone255On bracken green, and cold gray stone.
Fitz-James looked round—yet scarce believedThe witness that his sight received;Such apparition well might seemDelusion of a dreadful dream.260Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,And to his look the Chief replied,"Fear naught—nay, that I need not say—But—doubt not aught from mine array.Thou art my guest—I pledged my word265As far as Coilantogle ford;Nor would I call a clansman's brandFor aid against one valiant hand,Though on our strife lay every valeRent by the Saxon from the Gael.270So move we on—I only meantTo show the reed on which you leant,Deeming this path you might pursueWithout a pass from Roderick Dhu."They moved—I said Fitz-James was brave,275As ever knight that belted glaive;Yet dare not say, that now his bloodKept on its wont and tempered flood,As, following Roderick's stride, he drewThat seeming lonesome pathway through,280Which yet, by fearful proof, was rifeWith lances, that, to take his life,Waited but signal from a guide,So late dishonored and defied.Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round285The vanished guardians of the ground,And still, from copse and heather deep,Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep,And in the plover's shrilly strain,The signal whistle heard again.290Nor breathed he free till far behindThe pass was left; for then they windAlong a wide and level green,Where neither tree nor tuft was seen,Nor rush nor bush of broom was near,295To hide a bonnet or a spear.
Fitz-James looked round—yet scarce believedThe witness that his sight received;Such apparition well might seemDelusion of a dreadful dream.260Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,And to his look the Chief replied,"Fear naught—nay, that I need not say—But—doubt not aught from mine array.Thou art my guest—I pledged my word265As far as Coilantogle ford;Nor would I call a clansman's brandFor aid against one valiant hand,Though on our strife lay every valeRent by the Saxon from the Gael.270So move we on—I only meantTo show the reed on which you leant,Deeming this path you might pursueWithout a pass from Roderick Dhu."They moved—I said Fitz-James was brave,275As ever knight that belted glaive;Yet dare not say, that now his bloodKept on its wont and tempered flood,As, following Roderick's stride, he drewThat seeming lonesome pathway through,280Which yet, by fearful proof, was rifeWith lances, that, to take his life,Waited but signal from a guide,So late dishonored and defied.Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round285The vanished guardians of the ground,And still, from copse and heather deep,Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep,And in the plover's shrilly strain,The signal whistle heard again.290Nor breathed he free till far behindThe pass was left; for then they windAlong a wide and level green,Where neither tree nor tuft was seen,Nor rush nor bush of broom was near,295To hide a bonnet or a spear.
The Chief in silence strode before,And reached that torrent's sounding shore,Which, daughter of three mighty lakes,From Vennachar in silver breaks,300Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless minesOn Bochastle the moldering lines,noteWhere Rome, the Empress of the world,Of yore her eagle wings unfurled.And here his course the Chieftain stayed,305Threw down his target and his plaid,And to the Lowland warrior said—"Bold Saxon! to his promise just,Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust.This murderous Chief, this ruthless man,310This head of a rebellious clan,Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward,Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard.Now, man to man, and steel to steel.A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel.315See, here, all vantageless I stand,Armed, like thyself, with single brand;For this is Coilantogle ford,And thou must keep thee with thy sword."
The Chief in silence strode before,And reached that torrent's sounding shore,Which, daughter of three mighty lakes,From Vennachar in silver breaks,300Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless minesOn Bochastle the moldering lines,noteWhere Rome, the Empress of the world,Of yore her eagle wings unfurled.And here his course the Chieftain stayed,305Threw down his target and his plaid,And to the Lowland warrior said—"Bold Saxon! to his promise just,Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust.This murderous Chief, this ruthless man,310This head of a rebellious clan,Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward,Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard.Now, man to man, and steel to steel.A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel.315See, here, all vantageless I stand,Armed, like thyself, with single brand;For this is Coilantogle ford,And thou must keep thee with thy sword."
The Saxon paused: "I ne'er delayed,320When foeman bade me draw my blade;Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death;Yet sure thy fair and generous faith,And my deep debt for life preserved,A better meed have well deserved.325Can naught but blood our feud atone?Are there no means?" "No, Stranger, none!And hear—to fire thy flagging zeal—The Saxon cause rests on thy steel;For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred330Between the living and the dead;'Who spills the foremost foeman's life,His party conquers in the strife.'""Then, by my word," the Saxon said,"The riddle is already read.335Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff—There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy,Then yield to Fate, and not to me.To James, at Stirling, let us go,340When, if thou wilt be still his foe,Or if the King shall not agreeTo grant thee grace and favor free,I plight mine honor, oath, and word,That, to thy native strengths restored,345With each advantage shalt thou stand,That aids thee now to guard thy land."
The Saxon paused: "I ne'er delayed,320When foeman bade me draw my blade;Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death;Yet sure thy fair and generous faith,And my deep debt for life preserved,A better meed have well deserved.325Can naught but blood our feud atone?Are there no means?" "No, Stranger, none!And hear—to fire thy flagging zeal—The Saxon cause rests on thy steel;For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred330Between the living and the dead;'Who spills the foremost foeman's life,His party conquers in the strife.'""Then, by my word," the Saxon said,"The riddle is already read.335Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff—There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy,Then yield to Fate, and not to me.To James, at Stirling, let us go,340When, if thou wilt be still his foe,Or if the King shall not agreeTo grant thee grace and favor free,I plight mine honor, oath, and word,That, to thy native strengths restored,345With each advantage shalt thou stand,That aids thee now to guard thy land."
Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye—"Soars thy presumption, then, so high,Because a wretched kern ye slew,350Homage to name to Roderick Dhu?He yields not, he, to man nor Fate!Thou add'st but fuel to my hate;My clansman's blood demands revenge.Not yet prepared?—By heaven, I change355My thought, and hold thy valor lightAs that of some vain carpet knight,Who ill deserved my courteous care,And whose best boast is but to wearA braid of his fair lady's hair."360"I thank thee, Roderick, for the word!It nerves my heart, it steels my sword;For I have sworn this braid to stainIn the best blood that warms thy vein.Now, truce, farewell! and ruth, begone!—365Yet think not that by thee alone,Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown;Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn,Start at my whistle clansmen stern,Of this small horn one feeble blast370Would fearful odds against thee cast.But fear not—doubt not—which thou wilt—We try this quarrel hilt to hilt."Then each at once his falchion drew,Each on the ground his scabbard threw,375Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain,As what they ne'er might see again;Then foot, and point, and eye opposed,In dubious strife they darkly closed.
Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye—"Soars thy presumption, then, so high,Because a wretched kern ye slew,350Homage to name to Roderick Dhu?He yields not, he, to man nor Fate!Thou add'st but fuel to my hate;My clansman's blood demands revenge.Not yet prepared?—By heaven, I change355My thought, and hold thy valor lightAs that of some vain carpet knight,Who ill deserved my courteous care,And whose best boast is but to wearA braid of his fair lady's hair."360"I thank thee, Roderick, for the word!It nerves my heart, it steels my sword;For I have sworn this braid to stainIn the best blood that warms thy vein.Now, truce, farewell! and ruth, begone!—365Yet think not that by thee alone,Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown;Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn,Start at my whistle clansmen stern,Of this small horn one feeble blast370Would fearful odds against thee cast.But fear not—doubt not—which thou wilt—We try this quarrel hilt to hilt."Then each at once his falchion drew,Each on the ground his scabbard threw,375Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain,As what they ne'er might see again;Then foot, and point, and eye opposed,In dubious strife they darkly closed.
Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu,380That on the field his targe he threw,Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hideHad death so often dashed aside;For, trained abroad his arms to wield,Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield.385He practiced every pass and ward,To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard;While less expert, though stronger far,The Gael maintained unequal war.Three times in closing strife they stood,390And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood;No stinted draft, no scanty tide,The gushing flood the tartans dyed.Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain,And showered his blows like wintry rain;395And, as firm rock, or castle-roof,Against the winter shower is proof,The foe, invulnerable still,Foiled his wild rage by steady skill;Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand400Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand,And backward borne upon the lea,Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee.
Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu,380That on the field his targe he threw,Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hideHad death so often dashed aside;For, trained abroad his arms to wield,Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield.385He practiced every pass and ward,To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard;While less expert, though stronger far,The Gael maintained unequal war.Three times in closing strife they stood,390And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood;No stinted draft, no scanty tide,The gushing flood the tartans dyed.Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain,And showered his blows like wintry rain;395And, as firm rock, or castle-roof,Against the winter shower is proof,The foe, invulnerable still,Foiled his wild rage by steady skill;Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand400Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand,And backward borne upon the lea,Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee.
"Now, yield thee, or by Him who madeThe world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!"—405"Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy!Let recreant yield, who fears to die."—Like adder darting from his coil,Like wolf that dashes through the toil,Like mountain-cat who guards her young,note410Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung;Received, but recked not of a wound,And locked his arms his foeman round.Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own!No maiden's hand is round thee thrown!415That desperate grasp thy frame might feel,Through bars of brass and triple steel!—They tug, they strain! down, down they go,The Gael above, Fitz-James below.The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed420His knee was planted in his breast;His clotted locks he backward threw,Across his brow his hand he drew,From blood and mist to clear his sight,Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright!425But hate and fury ill suppliedThe stream of life's exhausted tide,And all too late the advantage came,To turn the odds of deadly game;For, while the dagger gleamed on high,430Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye.Down came the blow! but in the heathThe erring blade found bloodless sheath.The struggling foe may now unclaspThe fainting Chief's relaxing grasp;435Unwounded from the dreadful close,But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.
"Now, yield thee, or by Him who madeThe world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!"—405"Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy!Let recreant yield, who fears to die."—Like adder darting from his coil,Like wolf that dashes through the toil,Like mountain-cat who guards her young,note410Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung;Received, but recked not of a wound,And locked his arms his foeman round.Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own!No maiden's hand is round thee thrown!415That desperate grasp thy frame might feel,Through bars of brass and triple steel!—They tug, they strain! down, down they go,The Gael above, Fitz-James below.The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed420His knee was planted in his breast;His clotted locks he backward threw,Across his brow his hand he drew,From blood and mist to clear his sight,Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright!425But hate and fury ill suppliedThe stream of life's exhausted tide,And all too late the advantage came,To turn the odds of deadly game;For, while the dagger gleamed on high,430Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye.Down came the blow! but in the heathThe erring blade found bloodless sheath.The struggling foe may now unclaspThe fainting Chief's relaxing grasp;435Unwounded from the dreadful close,But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.
He faltered thanks to Heaven for life,Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife;Next on his foe his look he cast,440Whose every gasp appeared his last;In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid—"Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid;Yet with thy foe must die, or live,The praise that faith and valor give."445With that he blew a bugle-note,Undid the collar from his throat,Unbonneted, and by the waveSat down his brow and hands to lave.Then faint afar are heard the feet450Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet;The sounds increase, and now are seenFour mounted squires in Lincoln green;Two who bear lance, and two who lead,By loosened rein, a saddled steed;455Each onward held his headlong course,And by Fitz-James reined up his horse—With wonder viewed the bloody spot—"Exclaim not, gallants! question not.You, Herbert and Luffness, alight,460And bind the wounds of yonder knight;Let the gray palfrey bear his weight,noteWe destined for a fairer freight,And bring him on to Stirling straight;I will before at better speed,465To seek fresh horse and fitting weed.noteThe sun rides high—I must be boune,To see the archer-game at noon;But lightly Bayard clears the lea—De Vaux and Herries, follow me.
He faltered thanks to Heaven for life,Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife;Next on his foe his look he cast,440Whose every gasp appeared his last;In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid—"Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid;Yet with thy foe must die, or live,The praise that faith and valor give."445With that he blew a bugle-note,Undid the collar from his throat,Unbonneted, and by the waveSat down his brow and hands to lave.Then faint afar are heard the feet450Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet;The sounds increase, and now are seenFour mounted squires in Lincoln green;Two who bear lance, and two who lead,By loosened rein, a saddled steed;455Each onward held his headlong course,And by Fitz-James reined up his horse—With wonder viewed the bloody spot—"Exclaim not, gallants! question not.You, Herbert and Luffness, alight,460And bind the wounds of yonder knight;Let the gray palfrey bear his weight,noteWe destined for a fairer freight,And bring him on to Stirling straight;I will before at better speed,465To seek fresh horse and fitting weed.noteThe sun rides high—I must be boune,To see the archer-game at noon;But lightly Bayard clears the lea—De Vaux and Herries, follow me.
470"Stand, Bayard, stand!" The steed obeyed,With arching neck and bended head,And glancing eye and quivering earAs if he loved his lord to hear.No foot Fitz-James in stirrup stayed,475No grasp upon the saddle laid,But wreathed his left hand in the mane,And lightly bounded from the plain,Turned on the horse his arméd heel,And stirred his courage with the steel.480Bounded the fiery steed in air;The rider sat erect and fair;Then like a bolt from steel crossbowForth launched, along the plain they go.They dashed that rapid torrent through,485And up Carhonie's hill they flew;Still at the gallop pricked the Knight,His merrymen followed as they might.Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride,And in the race they mock thy tide;490Torry and Lendrick now are past,noteAnd Deanstown lies behind them cast;They rise, the bannered towers of Doune,They sink in distant woodland soon;Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire,495They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre;They mark just glance and disappearThe lofty brow of ancient Kier;They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides,Dark Forth! amid thy sluggish tides,500And on the opposing shore take ground,With plash, with scramble, and with bound.Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth!And soon the bulwark of the North,Gray Stirling, with her towers and town,505Upon their fleet career looked down.
470"Stand, Bayard, stand!" The steed obeyed,With arching neck and bended head,And glancing eye and quivering earAs if he loved his lord to hear.No foot Fitz-James in stirrup stayed,475No grasp upon the saddle laid,But wreathed his left hand in the mane,And lightly bounded from the plain,Turned on the horse his arméd heel,And stirred his courage with the steel.480Bounded the fiery steed in air;The rider sat erect and fair;Then like a bolt from steel crossbowForth launched, along the plain they go.They dashed that rapid torrent through,485And up Carhonie's hill they flew;Still at the gallop pricked the Knight,His merrymen followed as they might.Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride,And in the race they mock thy tide;490Torry and Lendrick now are past,noteAnd Deanstown lies behind them cast;They rise, the bannered towers of Doune,They sink in distant woodland soon;Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire,495They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre;They mark just glance and disappearThe lofty brow of ancient Kier;They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides,Dark Forth! amid thy sluggish tides,500And on the opposing shore take ground,With plash, with scramble, and with bound.Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth!And soon the bulwark of the North,Gray Stirling, with her towers and town,505Upon their fleet career looked down.