« If pall and vair no more I wear, Nor thou the crimson sheen,

As warm, we 'll say, is the russet gray,
As gay the forest-green.

« And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
And lost thy native land,
Still Alice has her own Richard,

And he his Alice Brand.»

XIII.

BALLAD CONTINUED.

'Tis merry, 't is merry in good green-wood, So blithe Lady Alice is singing:

On the beech's pride, and the oak's brown side, Lord Richard's axe is ringing.

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.

«Lay on him the curse of the wither'd heart, The curse of the sleepless eye;

Till he wish and pray that his life would part, Nor yet find leave to die.»>—

XIV.

BALLAD CONTINUED.

'T is merry, 't is merry in good green-wood,
Though the birds have still'd their singing;
The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
And Richard is fagots bringing.

Up Urgan starts-that hideous dwarf Before Lord Richard stands, And, as he cross'd and bless'd himself, << I fear not sign,» quoth the grisly elf, << That is made with bloody hands.»

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, That woman void of fear,

« And if there 's blood upon his hand, 'Tis but the blood of deer.»

« Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood ! It cleaves unto his hand,

The stain of thine own kindly blood,
The blood of Ethert Brand.»—

Then forward stepp'd she, Alice Brand,
And made the holy sign,

« And if there 's blood on Richard's hand, A spotless hand is mine.

« And I conjure thee, demon elf,

By Him whom demons fear, To show us whence thou art thyself, And what thine errand here?»>

XV.

BALLAD CONTINUED.

«T is merry, 't is merry in fairy-land, When fairy birds are singing,

When the court doth ride by their monarch's sid With bit and bridle ringing:

« And gaily shines the fairy-land-
But all is glistening show, (11)
Like the idle gleam that December's beam
Can dart on ice and snow.

« And fading like that varied gleam,
Is our inconstant shape,
Who now like knight and lady seem,
And now like dwarf and ape.

« It was between the night and day.
When the fairy king has power,
That I sunk down in a sinful fray,
And, 'twixt life and death was snatch'd away
To the joyless elfin bower. (12)

« But wist I of a woman bold,

Who thrice my brow durst sign, I might regain my mortal mold, As fair a form as thine.»>

She cross'd him once-she cross'd him twice-
That lady was so brave;
The fouler grew his goblin hue,

The darker grew the cave.

She cross'd him thrice, that lady bold; He rose beneath her hand

The fairest knight on Scottish mold, Her brother, Ethert Brand!

Merry it is in good green-wood,

When the mavis and merle are singing. But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray, When all the bells were ringing.

XVI.

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 eagle glance, remembrance claims-

'Tis 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.—

« The happy path!—what! said he nought

Of war, of battle to be fought,

Of guarded pass?»-« No, by my faith!
Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.»>-

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
Hlad 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 strled:

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,
Il guard thee like a tender flower-->
Oh, bush, 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 my heart;
Forgive, be generous, and depart.›
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.
Ilope 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, aud came again.

XIX.

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 signet 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 storm,
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,
Seem'd nought to mark, yet all to spy

Thy kindred ambush lies before,
Close couch'd upon the heathery moor;
Them couldst thou reach!-it may not be-
Thine ambush'd kin thou ne'er shalt see,
The fiery Saxon gains on thee!

-Resistless speeds the deadly thrust,
As lightning strikes the pine to dust;

With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain,
Ere he can win his blade again.
Bent o'er the fall'n, with falcon eye,
He grimly smiled to see him die;
Then slower wended back his way,
Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.
She sate beneath the birchen tree,
Her elbow resting on her knee;

XXVII.

She had withdrawn the fatal shaft,

And gazed on it, and feebly laugh'd;

Her wreath of broom and feathers gray,
Daggled with blood, beside her lay.

The knight, to staunch the life-stream tried,-
Stranger, it is in vain!» she cried,

This hour of death has given me more

Of reason's power than years before;

For, as these ebbing veins decay,

My frenzied visions fade away.

A helpless injured wretch I die,

And something tells me in thine eye, born.

That thou wert my avenger

Seest thou this tress?-O! still I've worn
This little tress of yellow hair,
Through danger, frenzy, and despair!
It once was bright and clear as thine,

But blood and tears have dimm'd its shine.

I will not tell thee when 't was shred,
Nor from what guiltless victim's head-
My brain would turn!-but it shall wave
Like plumage on thy helmet brave,
Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,
And thou wilt bring it me again.-
I waver still.-O God! more bright
Let reason beam her parting light!—
O by thy knighthood's honour'd sign,
And for thy life preserved by mine,
When thou shalt see a darksome man,
Who boasts him chief of Alpine's clan,
With tartans broad and shadowy plume,
And hand of blood, and brow of gloom,
Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong,
And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong
They watch for thee by pass and fell-
Avoid the path-O God!--farewell!»-

XXVIII.

A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James;
Fast pour'd his eye at pity's claims,
And DOW,
with mingled grief and ire,
He saw the murder'd maid expire.
«God, in my need, be my relief,
As I wreak this on yonder chief!»-
A lock from Blanche's tresses fair

He blended with her bridegroom's hair;
The mingled braid in blood he dyed,
And placed it on his bonnet-side:

-But hark! what means yon faint halloo?
The chase is up,-but they shall know,
The stag at bay's a dangerous foe.»>-
Barr'd from the known but guarded way,
Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray,
And oft must change his desperate track,
By stream and precipice turn'd back.
Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,
From lack of food and loss of strength,
He couch'd him in a thicket hoar,
And thought his toils and perils o'er :-

<< Of all my rash adventures past,
This frantic feat must prove the last!
Who e'er so mad but might have guess'd,
That all this Highland hornet's nest
Would muster up in swarms so soon
As e'er they heard of bands at Doune!-
Like blood-hounds now they search me out,——
Hark, to the whistle and the shout!-

If farther through the wilds I go,

I only fall upon the foe;

I'll couch me here till evening gray,

Then darkling try my dangerous way.»>

XXIX.

The shades of eve come slowly down,

The woods are wrapp'd in deeper brown,
The owl awakens from her dell,
The fox is heard upon the fell;
Enough remains of glimmering light,
To guide the wanderer's steps aright,
Yet not enough from far to show
His figure to the watchful foe.

With cautious step, and ear awake,
He climbs the crag, and threads the brake;
And not the summer solstice, there,
Temper'd the midnight mountain air,
But every breeze, that swept the wold,
Benumb'd his drenched limbs with cold.
In dread, in danger, and alone,

Famish'd and chill'd, through ways unknown,
Tangled and steep, he journey'd on;
Till, as a rock's huge point he turn'd,
A watch-fire close beside him burn'd.

XXX.

Beside its embers red and clear,
Bask'd, in his plaid, a mountaineer;

And up he sprung, with sword in hand,—

"

Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!»—

« A stranger.»-« What dost thou require?»

«Rest and a guide, and food and fire.

My life's beset, my path is lost,

The gale has chill'd my limbs with frost.»

<< Art thou a friend to Roderick?»-«‹ No. »—

<< Thou darest not call thyself a foe?»

« I dare! to him and all the band
He brings to aid his murderous hand.»-
« Bold words!-but, though the beast of
The privilege of chase may claim,
Though space and law the stag we lend,
Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend,

game

He him of his Highland cheer, gave

The harden'd flesh of mountain-deer; (14) Dry fuel on the fire he laid,

And bade the Saxon share his plaid.

He tended him like welcome guest,

Then thus his further speech address'd.

Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu

A clansman born, a kinsman true;
Each word against his honour spoke
Demands of me avenging stroke;
Yet more, upon thy fate, 't is said,
A mighty augury is laid.

It rests with me to wind my horn,—
Thou art with numbers overborne ;
It rests with me, here, brand to brand,
Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand:
But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause,
Will I depart from honour's laws;
To assail a wearied man were shame,
And stranger is a holy name;
Guidance and rest, and food and fire,
In vain he never must require.

Then rest thee here till dawn of day;
Myself will guide thee on the way,

O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward,
Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,

As far as Coilantogle's ford;

From thence thy warrant is thy sword.»><< I take thy courtesy, by Heaven,

As freely as 't is nobly given !»

Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry

Sings us the lake's wild lullaby.»

With that he shook the gather'd heath, And spread his plaid upon the wreath; And the brave foemen, side by side, Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, And slept antil the dawning beam Purpled the mountain and the stream.

CANTO V.

THE COMBAT.

1.

FAIR as the earliest beam of eastern light, When first, by the bewilder'd pilgrim spied,

It smiles upon the dreary brow of night,

And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide,

And lights the fearful path on mountain side;-
Fair as that beam, although the fairest far,
Giving to horror grace, to danger pride,

Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star, Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of We

II.

That early beam, so fair and sheen,
Was twinkling through the hazel screen,
When, rousing at its glimmer red,
The warriors left their lowly bed,
Look'd out upon the dappled sky,
Mutter'd their soldier matins by,
And then awaked their fire, to steal,
As short and rude, their soldier meal.
That o'er, the Gael' around him threw
His graceful plaid of varied hue,
And, true to promise, led the way,
By thicket green and mountain gray.
A wildering path!-they winded now
Along the precipice's brow,
Commanding the rich scenes beneath,
The windings of the Forth and Teith,
And all the vales between that lie,
Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky;
Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance
Gain'd not the length of horseman's lance.
'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain
Assistance from the hand to gain;
So tangled oft, that, bursting through,
Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew,-
That diamond dew, so pure and clear,
It rivals all but beauty's tear'

III.

At length they came where, stern and steep,
The hill sinks down upon the deep.

Here Vennachar in silver flows,
There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose;
Ever the hollow path twined on,
Beneath steep bank and threatening stone;
An hundred men might hold the post
With hardihood against a host.
The rugged mountain's scanty cloak
Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak,
With shingles bare, and cliffs between,
And patches bright of bracken green,
And heather black, that waved so high,
It held the copse in rivalry.

But where the lake slept deep and still,
Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill;
And oft both path and hill were torn,
Where wintry torrent down had borne,
And heap'd upon the cumber'd land
Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand.
So toilsome was the road to trace,
The guide, abating of his pace,
Led slowly through the pass's jaws,
And ask'd Fitz-James, by what strange cause
He sought these wilds, traversed by few,
Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.

The Scottish Highlander calls himself Gael, or Gaul, anderm

the Lowlanders, Sassenach, or Saxons.