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IV.

«T is well advised-the chieftain's plan
Bespeaks the father of his clan.

But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu
Apart from all his followers true ?»>—
«It is because last evening tide
Brian an augury hath tried,

Of that dread kind which must not be
Unless in dread extremity,

The Taghairm call'd; by which, afar,
Our sires foresaw the events of war. (1)
Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew.»-

MALISE.

Ah! well the gallant brute I knew! The choicest of the prey we had, When swept our merry-men Gallangad. (2) His hide was snow, his horns were dark, His red eye glow'd like fiery spark; So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet, Sore did he cumber our retreat, And kept our stoutest kernes in awe, Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. But steep and flinty was the road, And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad, And when we came to Dennan's Row

A child might scatheless stroke his brow.»

V.

NORMAN.

<<That bull was slain: his reeking hide
They stretch'd the cataract beside,
Whose waters their wild tumult toss
Adown the black and craggy boss
Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge
Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. (3)
Couch'd on a shelve beneath its brink,
Close where the thundering torrents sink,
Rocking beneath their headlong sway,
And drizzled by the ceaseless
'Midst of rock, and roar of stream,
groan
The wizard waits prophetic dream.
Nor distant rests the chief;-but, hush!
See, gliding slow through mist and bush,
The hermit gains yon rock, and stands
To gaze upon our slumbering bands.
Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost,
That hovers o'er a slaughter'd host?
Or raven on the blasted oak,

spray,

That, watching while the deer is broke, '
His morsel claims with sullen croak?» (4)
-«Peace! peace! to other than to me,
Thy words were evil augury;

But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade
Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid,

Not aught that, glean'd from heaven or hell,
Yon fiend-begotten monk can tell.
The chieftain joins him, see-and now,
Together they descend the brow.»—

VI.

And, as they came, with Alpine's lord The hermit monk held solemn word: « Roderick! it is a fearful strife, For man endow'd with mortal life, Quarterod. See Note,

Whose shroud of sentient clay can still
Feel feverish pang and fainting chill,
Whose eye can stare in stony trance,
Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance,—
"Tis hard for such to view, unfurl'd,
The curtain of the future world.
Yet, witness every quaking limb,
My sunken pulse, mine eye-balls dim,
My soul with harrowing anguish torn,
This for my chieftain have I borne !—
The shapes that sought my fearful couch,
An human tongue may ne'er avouch;
No mortal man,-save he, who, bred
Between the living and the dead,
Is gifted beyond nature's law,—
Had e'er survived to say he saw.
At length the fateful answer came,
In characters of living flame!

Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll,
But borne and branded on my soul;-
WHICH SPILLS THE FOREMOST FOEMAN'S LIFE,
THAT PARTY CONQUERS IN THE STRIFE.>>

VII.

(5)

<<Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care!
Good is thine augury, and fair.
Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood,
But first our broadswords tasted blood.
A surer victim still I know,
Self-offer'd to the auspicious blow:
A spy has sought my land this morn,——
No eve shall witness his return!
My followers guard each pass's mouth,
To east, to westward, and to south;
Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide,
Has charge to lead his steps aside,
Till, in deep path or dingle brown,
He light on those shall bring him down.
-But who comes his news to show!
Malise! what tidings of the foe?»

see,

VIII.

<< At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive, Two barons proud their banners wave.

I saw the Moray's silver star,

And mark'd the sable pale of Mar.»>

« By Alpine's soul, high tidings those!

I love to hear of worthy foes.

When move they on?»-« To-morrow's noon
Will see them here for battle boune.»—

<< Then shall it see a meeting stern!-
But, for the place-say, couldst thou learn
Nought of the friendly clans of Earn?
Strengthen'd by them, we well might bide
The battle on Benledi's side.

Thou couldst not?-well! Clan-Alpine's men.
Shall man the Trosach's shaggy glen;
Within Loch Katrine's gorge we 'll fight,
All in our maids' and matrons' sight,
Each for his hearth and household fire,
Father for child, and son for sire,-
Lover for maid beloved!-but why-
Is it the breeze affects mine eye?
Or dost thou come, ill-omen'd tear,
A messenger of doubt and fear?

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Up spoke the moody elfin king,

Who won'd within the hill,- (7)

Like wind in the porch of a ruin'd church, His voice was ghostly shrill.

« Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, Our moon-light circle's screen?

Or who comes here to chase the deer,
Beloved of our elfin queen? (8)
Or who may dare on wold to wear
The fairies' fatal green? (9)

« Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,
For thou wert christen'd man; (10)
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
For mutter'd word or ban.

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Just as the minstrel sounds were staid,

A stranger climb'd the steepy glade:

His martial step, his stately mieu,

His hunting-suit of Lincoln green,

His cagle glance, remembrance claims→→

"T is Suowdoun's knight, 't is James Fitz-James. Ellen beheld as in a dream,

Then, starting, scarce suppress'd a scream:

« O stranger! in such hour of fear,

What evil hap has brought thee here?»>« An evil hap how can it be,

That bids me look again on thee?

By promise bound, my former guide
Met me betimes this morning tide,
And marshall'd, over bank and bourne,
The happy path of my return.»——

161

<< The happy path!-what! said he nought
Of war, of battle to be fought,

Of guarded pass ?»-« No, by my faith!
scathe.»>
Nor saw I aught could augur
«Oh! haste thee, Allan, to the kern,
-Yonder his tartans I discern;
Learn thou his purpose, and conjure
That he will guide the stranger sure!
What prompted thee, unhappy man?
The meanest serf in Roderick's clan
Had not been bribed by love or fear,
Unknown to him to guide thee here.»-
XVII.

« Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be,
Since it is worthy care from thee;
Yet life I hold but idle breath,

When love or honour 's weigh'd with death.
Then let me profit by my chance,
And speak my purpose bold at once.
I come to bear thee from a wild,

Where ne'er before such blossom smiled:

By this soft hand to lead thee far
From frantic scenes of feud and war.
Near Bochastle my horses wait,
They bear us soon to Stirling-gate:
I'll place thee in a lovely bower,

I'll guard thee like a tender flower-->>
Oh, hush, Sir Knight! 't were female art
To say I do not read thy heart;
Too much, before, my selfish ear
Was idly soothed my praise to hear.
That fatal bait hath lured thee back,
In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track;
And how, O how, can I atone
The wreck my vanity brought on!-
One way remains-I'll tell him all-
Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall!
Thou, whose light folly bears the blame,
Buy thine own pardon with thy shame!
But first-my father is a man
Outlaw'd and exiled, under ban;

The price of blood is on his head,

With me 't were infamy to wed.—

Still wouldst thou speak ?-then hear the truth!
Fitz-James, there is a noble youth,—

If

yet he is!-exposed for me

And mine to dread extremity-
Thou hast the secret of heart;
Forgive, be generous, and depart.»>-

my

XVIII.

Fitz-James knew every wily train
A lady's fickle heart to gain,
But here he knew and felt them vain.
There shot no glance from Ellen's eye,
To give her stedfast speech the lie;
In maiden confidence she stood,
Though mantled in her cheek the blood,
And told her love with such a sigh
Of deep and hopeless agony,
As death had seal'd her Malcolm's doom,
And she sat sorrowing on his tomb.
Hope vanish'd from Fitz-James's eye,
But not with hope fled sympathy.

He proffer'd to attend her side,
As brother would a sister guide.-

«Oh! little know'st thou Roderick's heart!
Safer for both we go apart.

O haste thee, and from Allan learn,
If thou mayst trust yon wily kern.»——
With hand upon his forehead laid,
The conflict of his mind to shade,

A parting step or two he made;

Then, as some thought had cross'd his brain, He paused, and turn'd, and came again,

ΧΙΧ.

« Hear, lady, yet, a parting word!
It chanced in fight that my poor sword
Preserved the life of Scotland's lord.
This ring the grateful monarch gave,
And bade, when I had boon to crave,
To bring it back, and boldly claim
The recompense that I would name.
Ellen, I am no courtly lord,

But one who lives by lance and sword,
Whose castle is his helm and shield,
His lordship the embattled field.
What from a prince can I demand,
Who neither reck of state nor land?
Ellen, thy hand-the ring is thine;
Each guard and usher knows the sign.
Seek thou the king without delay;,
This siguet shall secure thy way;
And claim thy suit, whate'er it be,
As ransom of his pledge to me.»-
He placed the golden circlet on,
Paused-kiss'd her hand-and then was gone,
The aged minstrel stood aghast,

So hastily Fitz-James shot past.

He join'd his guide, and wending down
The ridges of the mountain brown,
Across the stream they took their way,
That joins Loch Katrine to Achray.

XX.

All in the Trosach's glen was still,
Noontide was sleeping on the hill:
Sudden his guide whoop'd loud and high-
« Murdoch! was that a signal cry?»-
He stammer'd forth,- -I shout to scare
Yon raven from his dainty fare.»-
He look'd he knew the raven's prey,
His own brave steed:-« Ah! gallant gray!
For thee-for me, perchance-'t were well
We ne'er had left the Trosach's dell,—
Murdoch, move first-but silently;
Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die.»-
Jealous and sullen on they fared,
Each silent, each upon his guard.

XXI.

Now wound the path its dizzy ledge
Around a precipice's edge.
When lo! a wasted female form,
Blighted by wrath of sun and torm,
In tatter'd weeds and wild array,
Stood on a cliff beside the way,
And glancing round her restless eye,
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,
Secm'd nought to mark, yet all to spy.

21

Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom;
With gesture wild she waved a plume
Of feathers, which the eagles fling
To crag and cliff from dusky wing;
Such spoils her desperate step had sought,
Where scarce was footing for the goat.
The tartan plaid she first deseried,
And shriek'd till all the rocks replied;
As loud she laugh'd when near they drew,
For then the Lowland garb she knew;
And then her hands she wildly wrung,
And then she wept, and then she sung.-
She sung-the voice, in better time,
Perchance to harp or lute might chime:

"

And now, though strain'd and roughen'd, still Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill.

XXII. SONG.

They bid me sleep, they bid me pray,
They say my brain is warp'd and wrung-

I cannot sleep on Highland brae,

I cannot pray in Highland tongue.
But were I now where Allan glides,
Or heard my native Devan's tides,
So sweetly would I rest, and pray

That leaven would close my wintry day!

«T was thus my hair they bade me braid, They bade me to the church repair; It was my bridal morn, they said,

And my true love would meet me there. But woe betide the cruel guile,

That drown'd in blood the morning smile! And woe betide the fairy dream!

I only waked to sob and scream.»>

XXIII.

<< Who is this maid? what means her lay?
She hovers o'er the hollow way,
And flutters wide her mantle gray,
As the lone heron spreads his wing,
By twilight, o'er a haunted spring.»-
"T is Blanche of Devan,» Murdoch said,
« A crazed and captive Lowland maid,
Ta'en on the morn she was a bride,
When Roderick foray'd Devan-side.
The gay bridegroom resistance made,
And felt our chief's unconquer'd blade.

I marvel she is now at large,

But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge.

Hence, brain-sick fool!»-He raised his bow:

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Now, if thou strikest her but one blow,

I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far

As ever peasant pitch'd a bar.»>——

« Thanks, champion, thanks!» the maniac cried, And press'd her to Fitz-James's side.

« See the gray pennons I prepare,
To seek my true-love through the air!
I will not lend that savage groom,
To break his fall, one downy plume!
No!-deep among disjointed stones,
The wolves shall batten on his bones,
And then shall his detested plaid,
By bush and briar in mid air staid,

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Fitz-James's mind was passion-toss'd,
When Ellen's hints and fears were lost;
But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought,
And Blanche's song conviction brought.—
Not like a stag that spies the snare,
But lion of the hunt aware,
He waved at once his blade on high,
« Disclose thy treachery, or die!»-
Forth at full speed the clansman flew,
But in his race his bow he drew.
The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest,
And thrill'd in Blanche's faded breast.-
Murdoch of Alpine, prove thy speed,
For ne'er had Alpine's son such need!
With heart of fire and foot of wind,
The fierce avenger is behind!
Fate judges of the rapid strife-
The forfeit death-the prize is life!

Having ten branches on his antlers.

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