Sooth spoke the maid.-Amid the tide The skiff. she mark'd lay tossing sore, And shifted oft her stooping side,
In weary tack from shore to shore. Yet on her destined course no more She gain'd, of forward way, Than what a minstrel may compare To the poor meed which peasants share, Who toil the livelong day;
And such the risk her pilot braves,
That oft, before she wore,
Her bowsprit kiss'd the broken waves,
Where in white foam the ocean raves
Upon the shelving shore.
Yet, to their destined purpose true,
Undaunted toil'd her hardy crew,
Nor look'd where shelter lay,
Nor for Artornish Castle drew,
Nor steer'd for Aros-bay.
Thus while they strove with wind and seas, Borne onward by the willing breeze,
Lord Ronald's fleet swept by, Streamer'd with silk, and trick'd with gold, Mann'd with the noble and the bold
Around their prows the ocean roars, And chafes beneath their thousand oars, Yet bears them on their way:
So chafes the war-horse in his might,
That fieldward bears some valiant knight,
Champs till both bit and boss are white,
But, foaming, must obey.
On each gay deck they might behold
Lances of steel and crests of gold,
And hauberks with their burnish'd fold,
That shimmer'd fair and free;
And each proud galley, as she pass'd,
To the wild cadence of the blast
Gave wilder minstrelsy.
Full many a shrill triumphant note
Saline and Scallastle bade float
Their misty shores around;
And Morven's echoes answer'd well,
And Duart heard the distant swell
Come down the darksome Sound.
So bore they on with mirth and pride, And if that labouring bark they spied, 'T was with such idle eye
As nobles cast on lowly boor,
When, toiling in his task obscure,
They pass him careless by.
Let them sweep on with heedless eyes!
But, had they known what mighty prize
In that frail vessel lay,
The famish'd wolf, that prowls the wold, Had scathless pass'd the unguarded fold, Ere, drifting by these galleys bold,
Unchallenged were her way! And thou, Lord Ronald, sweep thou on, With mirth and pride, and minstrel tone!
But hadst thou known who sail'd so nigh,
Far other glance were in thine eye!
Far other flush were on thy brow,
That, shaded by the bonnet, now
Assumes but ill the blithesome cheer
Of bridegroom when the bride is near!
Yes, sweep they on!-We will not leave,
For them that triumph, those who grieve.
With that armada gay
Be laughter loud and jocund shout,
And bards to cheer the wassail rout,
With tale, romance, and lay;
And of wild mirth each clamorous art,
Which, if it cannot cheer the heart,
May stupify and stun its smart,
For one loud busy day.
Yes, sweep they on ?-But with that skiff
Abides the minstrel tale,
Where there was dread of surge and cliff,
Labour that strain'd each sinew stiff,
And one sad maiden's wail.
All day with fruitless strife they toil'd, With eve the ebbing currents boil'd
More fierce from strait and lake; And mid-way through the channel met Conflicting tides that foam and fret, And high their mingled billows jet, As spears that, in the battle set,
Spring upward as they break. Then too the lights of eve were past, And louder sung the western blast
On rocks of Inninmore;
Rent was the sail, and strain'd the mast,
And many a leak was gaping fast,
And the pale steersman stood aghast,
And gave the conflict o'er.
'T was then that one, whose lofty look
Nor labour dull'd nor terror shook,
Thus to the leader spoke:
<< Brother, how hopest thou to abide
The fury of this wilder'd tide,
Or how avoid the rock's rude side,
Until the day has broke?
Didst thou not mark the vessel reel,
With quivering planks and groaning keel,
At the last billow's shock!
Yet how of better counsel tell,
Though here thou seest poor Isabel
Half dead with want and fear;
For look on sea, or look on land,
That elder leader's calm reply
In steady voice was given,
<< In man's most dark extremity
Oft succour dawns from heaven.
Edward, trim thou the shatter'd sail,
The helm be mine, and down the gale
Let our free course be driven;
So shall we 'scape the western bay,
The hostile fleet, the unequal fray,
So safely hold our vessel's way,
Beneath the castle wall;
For if a hope of safety rest,
"T is on the sacred name of guest, Who seeks for shelter, storm-distress'd, Within a chieftain's hall.
If not-it best beseems our worth, Our name, our right, our lofty birth, By noble hands to fall.»
The helm, to his strong arm consign'd,
Gave the reef'd sail to meet the wind,
And on her alter'd way,
Fierce-bounding, forward sprung the ship,
Like greyhound starting from the slip,
To seize his flying prey.
Awaked before the rushing prow,
The mimic fires of ocean glow,
Those lightnings of the wave; (9)
Wild sparkles crest the broken tides,
And, flashing round, the vessel's sides
With elvish lustre lave,
While, far behind, their livid light
To the dark billows of the night
A gloomy splendour gave.
It seems as if old Ocean shakes
From his dark brow the livid flakes
In envious pageantry,
To match the meteor light that streaks
Grim Hecla's midnight sky.
Nor lack'd they steadier light to keep Their course upon the darken'd deep; Artornish, on her frowning steep,
"Twixt cloud and ocean hung,
Glanced with a thousand lights of glee,
And landward far, and far to sea,
Her festal radiance flung.
By that blithe beacon-light they steer'd,
Whose lustre mingled well
With the pale beam that now appear'd,
As the cold moon her head uprear'd
Above the eastern fell.
Thus guided, on their course they bore,
Until they near'd the main-land shore,
When frequent on the hollow blast
Wild shouts of merriment were cast,
And wind and wave and sea-birds' 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 deepen'd shadow made,
Far lengthen'd on the main below,
Where, dancing in reflected glow.
An hundred torches play'd,
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 mann'd,
'Gainst hundreds arm'd with spear and brand,
And plunged them in the deep. (10)
His bugle then the helmsman wound;
Loud answer'd 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, vex'd at thy delay,
Fear'd 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-toss'd skiff we seek
Short shelter in this leeward creek,
Prompt when the dawn the east shall streak,
Again to bear away.»—
Answer'd 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 Scorn'd by the noble and the bold, Shunn'd 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.express'd
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 ally, great England's lord,
Or mail upon your shoulders borne,
To battle with the Lord of Lorn,
Or, outlaw'd, dwelt by green-wood tree
With the fierce Knight of Ellerslie,
Or aided even 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 lean'd her head,
And down her long dark tresses shed,
As the wild vine, in tendrils spread,
Droops from the mountain oak.
Him follow'd close that elder lord,
And in his hand a sheathed sword,
Such as few arms could wield;
But when he boun'd 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,
Flank'd 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 unbarr'd,
And all the passage free
To one low-brow'd and vaulted room,
Where squire and yeoman, page and groom, Plied their loud revelry.
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,
As men of courtesy untaught,
Till fiery Edward roughly caught,
From one the foremost there,
His chequer'd plaid, and in its shroud,
To hide her from the vulgar crowd,
Involved his sister fair.
His brother, as the clansman bent
His sullen brow in discontent,
Made brief and stern excuse ;<< Vassal, were thine the cloak of pall That decks thy lord in bridal hall, 'T were honour'd by her use.»———
Proud was his tone, but calm; his eye
Had that compelling dignity,
His mien that bearing haught and high,
Which common spirits fear;
Needed nor word nor signal more,
Nod, wink, and laughter, all were o'er;
Upon each other back they bore,
And gazed like startled deer. But now appear'd the seneschal, Commission'd by his lord to call The strangers to the baron's hall,
Where feasted fair and free That Island Prince in nuptial tide, With Edith there, his lovely bride, And her bold brother by her side, And many a chief, the flower and pride Of western land and sea.
Here pause we, gentles, for a space;
And, if our tale hath won your grace,
Grant us brief patience, and again
We will renew the minstrel strain.
FILL the bright goblet, spread the festive board! Summon the gay, the noble, and the fair! Through the loud hall in joyous concert pour'd, Let mirth and music sound the dirge of Care! But ask thou not if Happiness be there,
If the loud laugh disguise convulsive throe, Or if the brow the heart's true livery wear; Lift not the festal mask!-enough to know, No scene of mortal life but teems with mortal woe.
With beakers' clang, with harpers' lay, With all that olden time deem'd gay,
The Island Chieftain feasted high;
But there was in his troubled eye
A gloomy fire, and on his brow
Now sudden flush'd, and faded now,
Emotions such as draw their birth
From deeper source than festal mirth.
By fits he paused, and harper's strain
And jester's tale went round in vain,
Or fell but on his idle ear
Like distant sounds which dreamers hear.
Then would he rouse him, and employ
Each art to aid the clamorous joy,
And call for pledge and lay,
And for brief space, of all the crowd,
As he was loudest of the loud,
Seem gayest of the gay
Yet nought amiss the bridal throng
Mark'd in brief mirth, or musing long;
The vacant brow, the unlistening ear,
They gave to thoughts of raptures near,
And his fierce starts of sudden glee,
Seem'd bursts of bridegroom's ecstacy.
Nor thus alone misjudged the crowd,
Since lofty Lorn, suspicious, proud,
And jealous of his honour'd line,
And that keen knight, De Argentine (1)
(From England sent on errand high,
The western league more firm to tie),
Both deem'd in Ronald's mood to find
A lover's transport-troubled mind.
But one sad heart, one tearful eye,
Pierced deeper through the mystery,
And watch'd, with agony and fear,
Her wayward bridegroom's varied cheer.
She watch'd-yet fear'd to meet his glance, And he shunn'd her's;-till when by chance They met, the point of foeman's lance
Had given a milder pang!
Beneath the intolerable smart
He writhed; then sternly mann'd his heart
To play his hard but destined part,
And from the table sprang.
<< Fill me the mighty cup!» he said,
<< Erst own'd by royal Somerled. (2)
Fill it, till on the studded brim
In burning gold the bubbles swim,
And every gem of varied shine
Glow doubly bright in rosy wine!
To you, brave lord, and brother mine,
Of Lorn this pledge I drink-
The union of our house with thine,
By this fair bridal-link!»-
« Let it pass round !» quoth he of Lorn, << And in good time-that winded horn Must of the abbot tell;
The laggard monk is come at last.»—
Lord Ronald heard the bugle-blast,
And, on the floor at random cast,
The untasted goblet fell.
But when the warder in his ear
Tells other news, his blither cheer
Returns like sun of May,
When through a thunder-cloud it beams;-
Lord of two hundred isles, he seems
As glad of brief delay,
As some poor criminal might feel,
When from the gibbet or the wheel
Respited for a day.
<< Brother of Lorn,» with hurried voice
He said, «< and you, fair lords, rejoice!
Here, to augment our glee,
Come wandering knights from travel far,
Well proved, they say, in strife of war,
And tempest on the sea.—
Ho! give them at your board such place
As best their presences may grace,
And bid them welcome free!»-
With solemn step, and silver wand,
The seneschal the presence scann'd
Of these strange guests; (3) and well he knew How to assign their rank its due;
For, though the costly furs
That erst had deck'd their caps were torn,
And their gay robes were over-worn,
And soil'd their gilded spurs,
Yet such a high commanding grace
Was in their mien and in their face,
As suited best the princely dais,
And royal canopy;
And there he marshall'd them their place, First of that company.
Then lords and ladies spake aside,
And angry looks the error chide,
That gave to guests unnamed, unknown,
A place so near their prince's throne;
But Owen Erraught said,
« For forty years a seneschal,
To marshal guests in bower and hall
Has been my honour'd trade.
Worship and birth to me are known,
By look, by bearing, and by tone,
Not by furr'd robe or broider'd zone;
And 'gainst an oaken bough
I'll gage my silver wand of state,
That these three strangers oft have sate
In higher place than now.>>
<< I, too,» the aged Ferrand said,
<< Am qualified by minstrel trade
Of rank and place to tell;-
Mark'd ye the younger stranger's eye,
My mates, how quick, how keen, how high,
How fierce its flashes fell,
Glancing among the noble rout
As if to seek the noblest out,
Because the owner might not brook
On any save his peers to look?
And yet it moves me more,
That steady, calm, majestic brow,
With which the elder chief e'en now
Scann'd the gay presence o'er,
Like being of superior kind,
In whose high-toned impartial mind
Degrees of mortal rank and state
Seem objects of indifferent weight.
The lady too-though, closely tied,
The mantle veil both face and eye,
Her motion's grace it could not hide,
Nor could her form's fair symmetry.»
Suspicious doubt and lordly scorn Lour'd on the haughty front of Lorn. From underneath his brows of pride, The stranger guests he sternly eyed, And whisper'd closely what the ear Of Argentine alone might hear;
Then question'd, high and brief, If, in their voyage, aught they knew Of the rebellious Scottish crew, Who to Rath-Erin's shelter drew, With Carrick's outlaw'd chief? (4) And if, their winter's exile o'er, They harbour'd still by Ulster's shore, Or launch'd their galleys on the main, To vex their native land again?
That younger stranger, fierce and high,
At once confronts the chieftain's eye
With look of equal scorn;-
<< Of rebels have we nought to show;
But if of royal Bruce thou 'dst know,
I warn thee he has sworn,
Ere thrice three days shall come and go,
His banner Scottish winds shall blow,
Despite each mean or mighty foe,
From England's every bill and bow,
To Allaster of Lorn,»-
Kindled the mountain chieftain's ire,
But Ronald quench'd the rising fire;
« Brother, it better suits the time
To chase the night with Ferrand's rhyme,
Than wake, 'midst mirth and wine, the jars
That flow from these unhappy wars.»-
<< Content,» said Lorn; and spoke apart
With Ferrand, master of his art,
Then whisper'd Argentine,-
<< The lay I named will carry smart
To these bold strangers' haughty heart,
If right this guess of mine.»>He ceased, and it was silence all, Until the minstrel waked the hall.
THE BROACH OF LORN. (5)
<< Whence the broach of burning gold,
That clasps the chieftain's mantle-fold,
Wrought and chased with rare device,
Studded fair with gems of price, (6)
On the varied tartans beaming,
As, through night's pale rainbow gleaming,
Fainter now, now seen afar,
Fitful shines the northern star?
<< Gem, ne'er wrought on Highland mountain, Did the fairy of the fountain,
As glares the tiger on his foes,
Hemm'd in by hunters, spears, and bows,
And, ere he bounds upon the ring,
Selects the object of his spring,-
Now on the bard, now on his lord,
So Edward glared and grasp'd his sword-
But stern his brother spoke,—«< Be still!
What! art thou yet so wild of will,
After high deeds and sufferings long,
To chafe thee for a menial's song?-
Well hast thou framed, old man, thy strains,
To praise the hand that pays thy pains; (10)
Yet something might thy song have told
Of Lorn's three vassals, true and bold,
Who rent their lord from Bruce's hold,
As underneath his knee he lay,
And died to save him in the fray.
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