Thus guided, on their course they bore
Until they neared the mainland shore,
When frequent on the hollow blast
Wild shouts of merriment were cast,
And wind and wave and seabird's cry
With wassail sounds in concert vie,
Like funeral shrieks with revelry,
Or like the battle-shout
By peasants heard from cliffs on high,
When Triumph, Rage, and Agony,
Madden the fight and rout.
Now nearer yet, through mist and storm,
Dimly arose the Castle's form,
And deepened shadow made,
Far lengthened on the main below,
Where, dancing in reflected glow,
An hundred torches played,
Spangling the wave with lights as vain
As pleasures in this vale of pain,
That dazzle as they fade.
Beneath the Castle's sheltering lee,
They staid their course in quiet sea.
Hewn in the rock, a passage there
Sought the dark fortress by a stair
So strait, so high, so steep,
With peasant's staff one valiant hand
Might well the dizzy pass have manned,
'Gainst hundreds armed with spear and brand,
And plunged them in the deep.
His bugle then the helmsman wound;
Loud answered every echo round,
From turret, rock, and bay,
The postern's hinges crash and groan,
And soon the warder's cresset shone
On those rude steps of slippery stone,
To light the upward way.
"Thrice welcome, holy Sire!" he said;
"Full long the spousal train have staid,
And, vexed at thy delay,
Feared lest, amidst these wildering seas,
The darksome night and freshening breeze
Had driven thy bark astray."-
"Warder," the younger stranger said,
"Thine erring guess some mirth had made
In mirthful hour; but nights like these,
When the rough winds wake western seas,
Brook not of glee. We crave some aid
And needful shelter for this maid
Until the break of day;
For, to ourselves, the deck's rude plank
Is easy as the mossy bank
That's breathed upon by May;
And for our storm-tossed skiff we seek
Short shelter in this leeward creek,
Prompt when the dawn the east shall streak,
Again to bear away."
Answered the Warder, "In what name
Assert ye hospitable claim?
Whence come, or whither bound?
Hath Erin seen your parting sails?
Or come ye on Norweyan gales?
And seek ye England's fertile vales,
Or Scotland's mountain ground?"-
"Warriors-for other title none
For some brief space we list to own,
Bound by a vow-warriors are we;
In strife by land, and storm by sea,
We have been known to fame:
And these brief words have import dear,
When sounded in a noble ear,
To harbour safe, and friendly cheer,
That gives us rightful claim.
Grant us the trivial boon we seek,
And we in other realms will speak
Fair of your courtesy ;
Deny-and be your niggard Hold
Scorned by the noble and the bold,
Shunned by the pilgrim on the wold,
And wanderer on the lea!"
"Bold stranger, no-'gainst claim like thine, No bolt revolves by hand of mine,
Though urged in tone that more expressed A monarch than a suppliant guest.
Be what ye will, Artornish Hall
On this glad eve is free to all.
Though ye had drawn a hostile sword
'Gainst our great ally, England's Lord,
Or mail upon your shoulders borne,
To battle with the Lord of Lorn,
Or, outlawed, dwelt by greenwood tree
With the fierce Knight of Ellerslie,
Or aided e'en the murderous strife,
When Comyn fell beneath the knife
Of that fell homicide The Bruce,
This night had been a term of truce.Ho, vassals! give these guests your care, "And show the narrow postern stair."
To land these two bold brethren leapt,
(The weary crew their vessel kept)
And, lighted by the torches' flare,
That seaward flung their smoky glare,
The younger knight that maiden bare
Half lifeless up the rock;
On his strong shoulder leaned her head,
And down her long dark tresses shed,
As the wild vine, in tendrils spread,
Droops from the mountain oak.
Him followed close that elder Lord,
And in his hand a sheathed sword,
Such as few arms could wield;
But when he bound him to such task,
Well could it cleave the strongest casque,
And rend the surest shield.
The raised portcullis' arch they pass,
The wicket with its bars of brass,
The entrance long and low,
Flanked at each turn by loop-holes strait,
Where bowmen might in ambush wait,
(If force or fraud should burst the gate,)
To gall an entering foe.
But every jealous post of ward,
Was now defenceless and unbarred,
And all the passage free
To one low-browed and vaulted room,
Where squire and yeoman, page and
Plied their loud revelry. r
And "Rest ye here," the Warder bade,
"Till to our Lord your suit is said.-
And, comrades, gaze not on the maid,
And on these men who ask our aid,
As if ye ne'er had seen
A damsel tired of midnight bark,
Or wanderers of a moulding stark,
And bearing martial mien."-
But not for Eachin's reproof
Would page or vassal stand aloof,
But crowded on to stare,
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