« 前へ次へ »
Shooting abruptly from the dell
Its thunder-splintefd pinnacle;
Round many an insul_ated mass,
The native bulwarks of the pass,
Huge as the tower which builders vain Presumptuous piled on Shinar’s plain. The rocky summits, split and rent, M Form’d turret, dome, or battlement,
Or seem'd fantastically set
With cupola or minaret,
Wild crests as pagod ever deck'd,
Or mosque of eastern architect.
Nor were these earth-horn castles bare, Nor lack'd they matiy a banner fair; For, from their shiver-‘d brows display'd, Far o'er the unfathomable glade,
All twinkling with the dew-drops sheen, The briar-rose fe__ll in streamers green, And creeping shrubs, of tho'usand dyes, Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs.
Boon nature scatter'd, free and wild,
The primrose pale, and violet flower,
Willi boughs that qnaked at ‘every breath,
Cast anchor in the rifted rock;
And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung
His shatter’d trunk, and frequent flung,
The summer heaven’s delicious blue ,
So wond’rous wild, the whole might seem
Onward, amid the copse ‘gnu peep
A narrow inlet, still and deep,
Affording scarce such breadth of brim,
Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face
Still broader sweep its channels made.
But, wave-encircled, seem'd to float,
Yet broader floods extending still,
Divide them from their parent hill,
Till each, retiring, claims to be
An islet in an inland sea.
And now, to issue from the glen,
No pathway meets the wanderefs ken,
A far-projecting precipice. (4)
The broom's tough roots his ladder made, The hazel saplings lent their aid;
_ And thus an airy point he won,
Where, gleaming with the setting sun,
Loch Katrine lay beneath him roll'd,
With promontory, creek, and bay,
And islands that, empurpled bright,
And mountains, that like giants stand,
High on the south, huge Ben-venue
A wildering forest feather’d o'er
His 1'uin'd sides and summit hoar,
From the steep promontory gazed
The stranger, raptured and amazed.
And a What a scene were here,» he cried,
In that soft vale, a lady's bower;
On yonder meadow, far away,
The turrets of n cloister gray.
How blithely might the bugle-horn
Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn !
Chime, when the groves were still and mute!
How solemn on the car would come
The holy matin's distant hum,
While the deep peal's commanding tone
A sainted hermit from his cell,
To drop a head with every knell—
And bugle, lute, and bell, and all,
Should each bewilder'd stranger call
To friendly feast, and lighted hall.
u Blithe were it then to wander here !
Yet pass we that;—the war and chase
A summer night, in green-wood spent,
But hosts may in these wilds abflllmli
But scarce again his born he wound,
That slanted from the islet rock,
A damsel, guider of its way,
A little skiff shot to the bay,
That round the promontory steep
Led its deep line in graceful sweep,
The weeping willow twig to lave,
And kiss, with whispering sound and slow,
And stood conceal'd amid the brake,
The maiden paused, as if again
She thought to catch the distant strain.
And locks flung back, and lips apart,
In listening mood, she seem‘d to stand,
And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace
A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, I
Of finer form, or lovelier face!
What though the sun, with ardent frown, Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, The sportive toil, which,‘ short and light, Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, Served too in hastier swell to show
Short glimpses of a breast of snow :
What though no rule of courtly grace
To measured mood had train'd her pace,-
Ne'er from the heath-flower dash'd the dew;
What though upon her speech there hung The accents of the mountain tongue, Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear,
The list'ner held his breath to hear.
A chieftain's daughter seem’d the maid ; Her satin snood, her silken plaid,
Her golden brooch, such birth betray'd.
Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, '
And seldom o'er a breast so fair,
Man tled a plaid with modest care,
And never brooch the fold combined
Iler kindness and her worth to spy,
Not Katrine, in her mirror blue,
Gives back the shaggy banks more true,
Or filial love was glowing there,
Or meek devotion pour'd a prayer,
Or tale of injury call'd forth
The indignant spirit of the North.
One only passion, unreveal'd,
With maiden pride the maid conceal’d, Yet no less purely felt the flame
O need I tell that passion's name !
On his bold visage middle age
Had slightly press'd its signet sage,
Yet had not quench'd the open truth
The will to do, the soul to dare,
The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire,
His limbs were cast in manly mould,
And though in peaceful garb array'd,
His stately mien as well implied
A high-born heart, a martial pride,
As if a baron’s crest he wore,
And sheathed in armour trod the shore. Slighting the petty need he show'd,
He told of his benighted road;
His ready speech flow'd fair and free,
Yet scem‘d that tone, and gesture bland,
Awhile the maid the stranger eyed, And, reassured, at length replied, _ That Highland halls were open still
To wilder'd wanderers of the hill.
u Nor think you unexpected come ' To you lone isle, our desert home;
Before the heath had lost the dew,
This morn, a couch was pull’d for you; On yonder mountain's purple head ' Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, And our broad nets have swept the mere, To furnish forth your evening cheer.»-— 1: Now, by the road, my lovely maid, Your courtesy has err’d,» he said;
a No right have I to claim, misplaced, The welcome of expected guest.
A wanderer, here by fortune tost,
My way, my friends, my courser lost,
l ne'er before, believe me, fair,
Have ever drawn your mountain air,
1 found a fay in fairy-land.»
it I well believe,» the maid replied,
As her light skiff approach’d the side,-—
14 I well believe, that ne'er before
Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore;
Old Allan-bane foretold your plight,
A gray-hair‘d sire, whose eye intent
Was on the vision'd future bent. (6) .
He saw your steed, a dappled gray,
Lie dead beneath the birchen way;
Painted exact your form and mien,
Your hunting-suit of Lincoln green,
That tassell'd horn so gaily gilt,
That falchion’s crooked blade and hilt,
He bade that all should ready be,
To grace a guest of fair degree;
But light I held his prophecy,
And deem'd it was my father's horn, Whose echoes o’er the lake were home.»
The stranger smiled :—u Since to your home
For one kind glance of those bright eyes.
Your fairy frigate o'er the tide.»
The maid, with smile suppress’d and sly, ' The toil unwonted saw him try;
For seldom, sure, if e’er before,
His noble hand had grasp'd an oar:
Yet with main strength his strokes he drew,
With heads erect, and whimpering cry,
Not‘ frequent does the bright oar break
The darkening mirror of the hike,
Until the rocky isle they reach,
And moor their shallop on the beach.
XXV. The stranger view'd the shore around; ‘T was all so close with copse-wood bound,
Nor track nor pathway might declare
Until the mountain-maiden sh0w'd
A clambering unsuspected road,
That winded through the tangled screen,
Where weeping birch and willow round
It was a lodge. of ample size,
But strange of structure and device;
The wot-kman’s hand had readiest found.
To give the walls their destined height,
While moss and clay and leaves combined
The lighter pine—trees, over-head,
Their slender length for rafters spread,
Due westward, fronting to the green,
A rural portico was seen,
Aloft on native pillars borne,
Of mountain fir with bark unshorn,
The clematis, the favonr'd flower
Which boasts the name of virgin-bower,
Loch Katrine's keen and searching air.
An instant in this porch she staid,
And gaily to the stranger said,
<1 On heaven and on thy lady call,
And enter the enchanted hall En
a My hope, my heaven, my trust must be,
Of angry steelthat instant rang.
To his bold brow his spirit rush’d,
But soon for vain alarm he blush'd,
Dropp'd from the sheath, that careless flung,
For all around, the walls to grace,
Hung trophies of the fight or chase:
A target there, a bugle here,
A battle-axe, a hunting-spear,
And broadswords, bows, and arrows, store,
And there the wild-cat's brindled hide
Or mantles o'er the bison's horns;
In rude and uncouth tapestry all, We stem the flood, we ride the blast,
The wondering stranger round him gazed, She sung, and still a harp unseen
And next the fallen weapon raised ;— Fill“ UP 1119 8Yll1Pll0l1)' l>fllWB6l1- (I0)
Few were the arms whose sinewy strength
Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. XXXL
And as the brand he poised and sway'd,
(K I never knew but one,» he said, scum
l( Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield u Soldier, rest! thy warfare 0'81‘,
A blade like this in battle-field.»—' Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; She sigh'd, then smiled, and took the word; Dream of battled fields no more,
It You see the guardian cha.Inpion’s sword: Days of danger, nights of waking.
As light it trembles in his hand, In our isle‘s enchanted hall,
As in my grasp a hazel wand; Hands unseen thy conch are strewing, My sire‘: tall form might grace the part ' Fairy strains of music fall,
Of Ferragus, or Ascabart; (8) Every sense in slumber dewing.
But in the absent giant’s hold Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Are women now, and menials old.»—- Dream of fighting fields no more;
_ Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, XXIX Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
The mistress of the mansion came,
Mam" °f alley 3 Graceful dime; re No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Whose easy step and stately port ' At-mour’s clang, or war-steed champing, Had well become a princely court, Trump nor pihroch summon here
To whom, though more than kindred knew, Mastering clan, or squad;-on tramping.
Young Ellen gave a mother's due.
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come Meet welcome to her guest she made,
At the day~hreak from the fallow,
That fellest foe might join the feast, Hm-e’5 no war-steed‘; neigh and champing,
And from his deadliest foeman‘s door Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.»Unquestion'd turn, the banquet o'er.
At length his rank the stranger names,
at The Knight of Suowdoun, James Fitz-James; Lord of a barren heritage,
She paused—then, blushing, led the lay
Her mellow notes awhile prolong
The cadence of the flowing song,
Till to her lips in measured frame
The minstrel verse spontaneous came.
Such looks’, such manners, and such mind. ' xxx"!
Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, The hall was clear'd—the stran8‘""S bed
it Wierd women we ! by dale and down But vainly did the heath-flowfil‘ filled
Not Ellen's spell had lull‘d to rest Can] not frame a fever’d dream,
The fever of his troubled breast. But still the Douglas is the theme 7
In broken dreams the image rose I'll dream no more--by manly mind
Of varied perils, pains, and woes; . Not even in sleep is will resign'd.
His steed now flounders in the brake, My midnight orisons said o'er,
Now sinks his barge npon the lake; I 'll turn to rest, and dream no more.»-
His standard falls, his honour’: lost. A PIE?" Willi BVBTY head of 80111,
Again retni-n‘d the scenes of Yonlll, Until the heath-cock shrilly crew,
Of confident undoubting truth; And morning dawn'd on Ben-venue.
Again his soul be interchanged
With friends whose hearts were long estranged-
As if they parted yesterday. ' _‘_'
And doubt distracts him at the view,—- THE ISLAND‘
0 were his senses false or true?
Dreanfd he of death, or broken vow, ' 1,
Or is it all a vision now! Ar morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing,
'T is morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay,
At length, with Ellen in a grove \ Of life reviving, with revivingday;
He seem'd to walk, and speak of love ; And while yon little bark glides down the bay,
His suit was warm, his hopes were high. Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray,(t)
Upon its head a helmet shone; _ IL
Slowly enlarged to giant size,
With darken’d cheek and threatening eyes, sum‘
The grisly visage, stern and hear, tt Not faster yonder rowers’ might
To Ellen still a likeness bore.— Flings from their ears the spray,
He woke, and panting with affright, Not faster yonder rippling bright,
Recall’d the vision of the night. That tracks the shallop's course in light,
And deep and dusky lustre shed, Than men from memory erase
Half showing, half concealing all The benefits of former days;
The uncouth trophies of the hall. Then, stranger, go! good speed the while,
Where that huge falchion hung on high,
And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, << High Plflfie '0 Ill" in l‘°Yal ¢°'1"1
ltush'd, chasing countless thoughts along, High place in battled line,
_ Until the giddy whirl to on;-9, Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport,
The wild rose, eglantine, and broom, ° Thy lady constant, kind, and dear;
Wasted around their rich perfume; And lost in l0ve’s and friendships smile,
The aspens slept beneath the calm;
The silver light, with quivering glance,-— Ill,
Play’d on the water's still expanse,
. . c 1 u . Wild were the heart whose pssston's sway SONG ONT N no
Could rage beneath the sober ray! t< But if beyond you southern sky
He felt its calm, that warrior guest, A plaided stranger roam,
While thus he communed with his breast:— Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh,
u Why is it, at each turn I trace And sunken cheek and heavy eye, T
Can I not mountain-maiden spy Then, warrior, then be thine to show
But she must bear the Douglas eye? _ The care that soothes a wanderefswoe;
But it must match the Douglas hand? A stranger in the lonely isle.