But not in mingled tide; The plaided warriors of the North High on the mountain thunder forth And overhang its side; While by the lake below appears The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears. At weary bay each shatter'd band, Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand; Their banners stream like tatter'd sail, That flings its fragments to the gale, And broken arms and disarray Mark'd the fell havoc of the day.

XX.

"Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, The Saxon stood in sullen trance, Till Moray pointed with his lance,

And cried-'Behold yon isle !— See! none are left to guard its strand, But women weak, that wring the hand: 'Tis there of yore the robber band

Their booty wont to pile ;My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, And loose a shallop from the shore. Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then, Lords of his mate, and brood, and den.' Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung, On earth his casque and corslet rung,

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

A mingled echo gave ;

The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer,
The helpless females scream for fear,
And yells for rage the mountaineer.
'Twas then, as by the outcry riven,
Pour'd down at once the lowering heaven;
A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast,
Her billows rear'd their snowy crest.
Well for the swimmer swell'd they high,
To mar the Highland marksman's eye;
For round him shower'd, 'mid rain and
hail,

The vengeful arrows of the Gael.—
In vain He nears the isle-and lo !
His hand is on a shallop's bow.
-Just then a flash of lightning came,
It tinged the waves and strand with

A naked dirk gleam'd in her hand :—
It darken'd, but amid the moan
Of waves, I heard a dying groan ;-
Another flash!-the spearman floats
A weltering corse beside the boats,
And the stern matron o'er him stood,
Her hand and dagger streaming blood.

XXI.

"Revenge! revenge!' the Saxons cried,

The Gaels' exulting shout replied.
Despite the elemental rage,
Again they hurried to engage ;

But, ere they closed in desperate fight,
Bloody with spurring came a knight,
Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag,
Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag.
Clarion and trumpet by his side

Rung forth a truce-note high and wide,
While, in the Monarch's name, afar
An herald's voice forbade the war,
For Bothwell's lord, and Roderick bold,
Were both, he said, in captive hold.”
-But here the lay made sudden stand,
The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand!-
Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy
How Roderick brook'd his minstrelsy:
At first, the Chieftain, to the chime,
With lifted hand, kept feeble time;
That motion ceased, yet feeling strong
Varied his look as changed the song;
At length, no more his deafen'd ear
The minstrel melody can hear;
His face grows sharp,-his hands are
clench'd,

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

Set are his teeth, his fading eye
Is sternly fix'd on vacancy;

Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew
His parting breath, stout Roderick

Dhu!

Old Allan-Bane look'd on aghast, While grim and still his spirit pass'd; But when he saw that life was fled, He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead.

XXII.

Lament.

"And art thou cold and lowly laid, Thy foemen's dread, thy people's aid,

"Forbear thy suit:-the King of kings
Alone can stay life's parting wings,
I know his heart, I know his hand,
Have shared his cheer, and proved his
brand:-

My fairest earldom would I give
To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live!-
Hast thou no other boon to crave?
No other captive friend to save?"
Blushing, she turn'd her from the Kirg
And to the Douglas gave the ring,
As if she wish'd her sire to speak
The suit that stain'd her glowing cheek.-
"Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force.
And stubborn justice holds her course.-
Malcolm, come forth!"—and, at the
word,

Down kneel'd the Græme to Scotland's
Lord.

"For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues,
From thee may Vengeance claim her dues
Who, nurtured underneath our smile,
Hast paid our care by treacherous wile,
And sought, amid thy faithful clan,
A refuge for an outlaw'd man,
Dishonouring thus thy loyal name.-
Fetters and warder for the Græme!'
His chain of gold the King unstrung,
The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung,
Then gently drew the glittering band,
And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand.