IV.

Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried,
Hangs in my belt, and by my side;
Yet, sooth to tell,» the Saxon said,

dream'd not now to claim its aid.
When here, but three days since, I came,
Bewilder'd in pursuit of game,
All seem'd as peaceful and as still,'
As the mist slumbering on yon hill;
Thy dangerous chief was then afar,
Nor soon expected back from war.
Thus said, at least, my mountain guide,
Though deep, perchance, the villain lied.»>—
Yet why a second venture try?»—
A warrior thou, and ask me why!-
Moves our free course by such fix'd cause,
As gives the poor mechanic laws?
Enough, I sought to drive away
The lazy hours of peaceful day;
Slight cause will then suffice to guide

A knight's free footsteps far and wide,-
A falcon flown, a greyhound stray'd,
The merry glance of mountain maid;
Or, if a path be dangerous known,
The danger's self is lure alone.»>-

V.

Thy secret keep, I urge thee not;Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, Say, heard ye nought of Lowland war, Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar?» -No, by my word;-of bands prepared To guard King James's sports I heard; Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear This muster of the mountaineer,

Their

pennons will abroad be flung, Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.»— Free be they flung! for we were loth Their silken folds should feast the moth. Free be they flung!-as free shall wave Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave. But, stranger, peaceful since you came, Bewilder'd in the mountain game, Whence the bold boast by which you show Vich-Alpine's vow'd and mortal foe?»>Warrior, but yester-morn I knew Nought of thy chieftain, Roderick Dhu, Save as an outlaw'd desperate man, The chief of a rebellious clan, Who, in the regent's court and sight, With ruffian dagger stabb'd a knight; Yet this alone might from his part Sever each true and loyal heart.»

VI.

Wrothful at such arraignment foul,
Dark lour'd the clansman's sable scowl.
A space he paused, then sternly said,
"And heard'st thou why he drew his blade?
Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow
Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe?
What reck'd the chieftain if he stood
On Highland heath, or Holyrood?

He rights such wrong where it is given,
If it were in the court of heaven.»>—

«Still was it outrage;-yet 't is true,
Not then claim'd sovereignty his due;
While Albany, with feeble hand,

Held borrow'd truncheon of command, (1)
The young king, mew'd in Stirling tower,
Was stranger to respect and power.
But then, thy chieftain's robber life!--
Winning mean prey by causeless strife,
Wrenching from ruin'd Lowland swain
His herds and harvest rear'd in vain,-
Methinks a soul, like thine, should scorn
The spoils from such foul foray borne.»—

VII.

The Gael beheld him grim the while,
And answer'd with disdainful smile,-
«Saxon, from yonder mountain high,
I mark'd thee send delighted eye,
Far to the south and east, where lay,
Extended in succession gay,

Deep waving fields and pastures green,
With gentle slopes and groves between:-
These fertile plains, that soften'd vale,
Were once the birth-right of the Gael;
The stranger came with iron hand,
And from our fathers reft the land.
Where dwell we now? See, rudely swell
Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell.
Ask we this savage hill we tread,
For fatten'd steer or household bread;
Ask we for flocks these shingles dry,
And well the mountain might reply,-
'To you, as to your sires of yore,
Belong the target and claymore!
I give you shelter in my breast,
Your own good blades must win the rest.'
Pent in this fortress of the north,
Think'st thou we will not sally forth,
To spoil the spoiler as we may,
And from the robber rend the prey?

Ay, by my soul!-While on yon plain
The Saxon rears one shock of grain;
While, of ten thousand herds, there strays
But one along yon river's maze,—
The Gael, of plain and river heir,

Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. (2) Where live the mountain chiefs who hold, That plundering Lowland field and fold

Is aught but retribution true?

Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu.»>

VIII.

Answer'd Fitz-James,-« And, if I sought,
Think'st thou no other could be brought?
What deem ye of my path way-laid?
My life given o'er to ambuscade?»>—
«As of a meed to rashness due:
Hadst thou sent warning fair and true,-
I seek my hound, or falcon stray'd,

I seek, good faith, a Highland maid,-
Free hadst thou been to come and go;
But secret path marks secret foe.
Nor yet, for this, even as a spy,

Hadst thou, unheard, been doom'd to die,

Save to fulfil an augury.»

"

« Well, let it pass; nor will I now

Fresh cause of enmity avow,

To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow.
Enough, I am by promise tied
To match me with this man of pride:
Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen
In peace; but when I come agen,
I come with banner, brand, and bow,
As leader seeks his mortal foe.
For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower,
Ne'er panted for the appointed hour,
As I, until before me stand

This rebel chieftain and his band.»

IX.

<< Have, then, thy wish!»-he whistled shrill,
And he was answer'd from the hill;
Wild as the scream of the curlicu,
From crag to crag the signal flew.
Instant, through copse and heath, arose
Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
On right, on left, above, below,
Sprung up at once the lurking foe;
From shingles gray their lances start,
The bracken-bush sends forth the dart,
The rushes and the willow-wand
Are bristling into axe and brand,
And every tuft of broom gives life
To plaided warrior arm'd for strife.
That whistle garrison'd the glen
At once with full five hundred men,
As if the yawning hill to heaven
A subterranean host had given.
Watching their leader's beck and will,
All silent there they stood and still.
Like the loose crags whose threatening mass
Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass,
As if an infant's touch could urge
Their headlong passage down the verge,
With step and weapon forward flung,
Upon the mountain side they hung.
The mountaineer cast glance of pride
Along Benledi's living side,

Then fix'd his eye and sable brow
Full on Fitz-James-«How say'st thou now?
These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;
And, Saxon,-I am Roderick Dhu!»>-

Fitz-James was brave:-Though to his heart
The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start,
He mann'd himself with dauntless air,
Return'd the chief his haughty stare,
His back against a rock he bore,
And firmly placed his foot before:-
« Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I.»-
Sir Roderick mark'd—and in his eyes
Respect was mingled with surprise,
And the stern joy which warriors feel
In foemen worthy of their steel.

Short space he stood-then waved his hand
Down sunk the disappearing band;
Each warrior vanish'd where he stood,
In broom or bracken, heath or wood;

Sunk brand and spear and bended bow,
In osiers pale and copses low;

It seem'd as if their mother Earth
Had swallow'd up her warlike birth.
The wind's last breath had toss'd in air,
Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair,-
The next but swept a lone hill-side,
Where heath and fern were waving wide;
The sun's last glance was glinted back,
From spear
and glaive, from targe and jack.-
The next, all unreflected, shone
On bracken green, and cold Gray stone.

XI.

Fitz-James look'd round—yet scarce believed
The witness that his sight received;
Such apparition well might seem
Delusion of a dreadful dream.
Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,
And to his look the chief replied,
<< Fear nought-nay, that I need not say-
But doubt not aught from mine array.
Thou art my guest;-I pledged my word
As far as Coilantogle ford:

Nor would I call a clansman's brand
For aid against one valiant hand,
Though on our strife lay every vale
Rent by the Saxon from the Gael.
So move we on;-I only meant
To show the reed on which you leant,
Deeming this path you might pursue,
Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. » (3)—
They moved:-I said Fitz-James was brave,
As eyer knight that belted glaive;
Yet dare not say, that now his blood
Kept on its wont and temper'd flood,
As, following Roderick's stride, he drew
That seeming lonesome path-way through,
Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife
With lances, that, to take his life,
Waited but signal from a guide,
So late dishonour'd and defied.
Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round
The vanish'd guardians of the ground,
And still, from copse and heather deep,
Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep,
And in the plover's shrilly strain,
The signal whistle heard again.
Nor breathed he free till far behind
The

pass was left; for then they wind
Along a wide and level green,
Where neither tree nor tuft was seen,
Nor rush, nor bush of broom was near,
To hide a bonnet or a spear.

XII.

The chief in silence strode before,

And reach'd that torrent's sounding shore,
Which, daughter of three mighty lakes,
From Vennachar in silver breaks,
Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines
On Bochastle the mouldering lines,
Where Rome, the empress of the world,
Of yore her eagle wings unfurl'd. (4)
And here his course the chieftain staid,

Threw down his target and his plaid,
And to the Lowland warrior said:-
Bold Saxon! to his promise just,
Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust.
This murderous chief, this ruthless man,
This head of a rebellious clan,

Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward,
Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard.

Now, man to man, and steel to steel,

A chieftains vengeance thou shalt feel.
See, here, all vantageless I stand,

Arm'd, like thyself, with single brand; (5)
For this is Coilantogle ford,

And thou must keep thee with thy sword, »--

XIII.

The Saxon paused:-« I ne'er delay'd,
When forman bade me draw my blade;
Nay more, brave chief, I vow'd thy death:
Yet sure thy fair and generous faith,
And my deep debt for life preserved,
A better meed have well deserved:-
Can nought but blood our feud atone?

Are there no means?»-« No, stranger, none!
And hear,-to fire thy flagging zeal,—
The Saxon cause rests on thy steel;
For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred
Between the living and the dead :---
Who spills the foremost focman's life,

His

party conquers in the strife.'»Then, by my word,» the Saxon said, The riddle is already read.

Serk yonder brake beneath the cliff,-
There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.
Thus Fate has solved her prophecy,
Then yield to Fate, and not to me.

To James, at Stirling, let us go,
When, if thou wilt be still his foe,

Or if the king shall not agree

То

grant thee grace and favour free,

plight mine honour, oath, and word, Tat, to thy native strengths restored, With each advantage shalt thou stand, That aids thee now to guard thy land.»

XIV.

Dark lightning flash'd from Roderick's

Mars

eye

stby presumption then so high,
Because a wretched kern ye slew,
Homage to name to Roderick Dhu?
Be yields not, he, to man nor Fate!
Thou add st but fuel to my hate:-
My clansman's blood demands revenge.—
Not yet prepared?-By Heaven, I change
My thought, and hold thy valour light
As that of some vain carpet kuight,
Wao ill deserved my courteous care,
And whose best boast is but to wear
A braid of his fair lady's hair.»>-

I thank thee, Roderick, for the word!
It nerves my heart, it steels my sword;
For I have sworn, this braid to stain
la the best blood that warms thy vein.
Now, truce, farewell! and, ruth, begone!-
Yet think not that by thee alone,
Proud chief! can courtesy be shown;

Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu,
That on the field his targe he threw, (6)
Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide
Had death so often dash'd aside,
For, train'd abroad his arms to wield,
Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. (7)
He practised every pass and ward,
To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard;
While less expert, though stronger far,
The Gael maintain'd unequal war.
Three times in closing strife they stood,
And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood;
No stinted draught, no scanty tide,
The gushing flood the tartans dyed.
Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain,
And shower'd his blows like wintry rain;
And, as firm rock, or castle-roof,
Against the winter shower is proof,
The foe, invulnerable still,
Foil'd his wild rage by steady skill;
Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand
Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand,
And, backward borne upon the lea,
Brought the proud chieftain to his knee.

XVI.

Now, yield thee, or, by Him who made The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!»Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! Let recreant yield, who fears to die.»-Like adder darting from his coil, Like wolf that dashes through the toil, Like mountain-cat who guards her young, Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung; (8) Received, but reck'd not of a wound, And lock'd his arms his foeman round.Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! No maiden's hand is round thee thrown! That desperate grasp thy frame might feel, Through bars of brass and triple steel!— They tug, they strain! down, down, they go, The Gael above, Fitz-James below. The chieftain's gripe his throat compress'd, His knee was planted in his breast; His clotted locks he backward threw, Across his brow his hand he drew, From blood and mist to clear his sight, Then gleam'd aloft his dagger bright! -But hate and fury ill supplied The stream of life's exhausted tide, And all too late the advantage came, To turn the odds of deadly game;

Well, let it pass; nor will I now

Fresh cause of enmity avow,

To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow.
Enough, I am by promise tied
To match me with this man of pride:
Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen
In peace; but when I come agen,
I come with banner, brand, and bow,
As leader seeks his mortal foe.
For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower,
Ne'er panted for the appointed hour,
As I, until before me stand

This rebel chieftain and his band.»

IX.

«Have, then, thy wish!»-he whistled shrill,
And he was answer'd from the hill;
Wild as the scream of the curlieu,
From crag to crag the signal flew.
Instant, through copse and heath, arose
Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
On right, on left, above, below,
Sprung up at once the lurking foe;
From shingles gray their lances start,
The bracken-bush sends forth the dart,
The rushes and the willow-wand
Are bristling into axe and brand,
And every tuft of broom gives life
To plaided warrior arm'd for strife.
That whistle garrison'd the glen

At once with full five hundred men,
As if the yawning hill to heaven
A subterranean host had given.
Watching their leader's beck and will,
All silent there they stood and still.
Like the loose crags whose threatening mass
Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass,
As if an infant's touch could urge
Their headlong passage down the verge,
With step and weapon forward flung,
Upon the mountain side they hung.

The mountaineer cast glance of pride
Along Benledi's living side,

Then fix'd his eye and sable brow

Full on Fitz-James-« How say'st thou now?
These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;
And, Saxon,-I am Roderick Dhu!»-

X.

Fitz-James was brave:-Though to his heart
The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start,
He mann'd himself with dauntless air,
Return'd the chief his haughty stare,
His back against a rock he bore,
And firmly placed his foot before: --
« Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I.»-
Sir Roderick mark'd—and in his eyes
Respect was mingled with surprise,
And the stern joy which warriors feel
In foemen worthy of their steel.
Short space he stood then waved his hand
Down sunk the disappearing band;
Each warrior vanish'd where he stood,
In broom or bracken, heath or wood;

Sunk brand and spear and bended bow,
In osiers pale and copses low;

It seem'd as if their mother Earth
Had swallow'd up her warlike birth.
The wind's last breath had toss'd in air,
Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair,-
The next but swept a loue hill-side,
Where heath and fern were waving wide;
The sun's last glance was glinted back,
From spear and glaive, from targe and jack
The next, all unreflected, shone

On bracken green, and cold gray stone.

XI.

Fitz-James look'd round—yet scarce believed
The witness that his sight received;
Such apparition well might seem
Delusion of a dreadful dream.
Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,
And to his look the chief replied,

<< Fear nought-nay, that I need not say-
But doubt not aught from mine array.
Thou art my guest;-I pledged my word
As far as Coilantogle ford:

Nor would I call a clansman's brand For aid against one valiant hand, Though on our strife lay every vale Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. So move we on;-I only meant To show the reed on which you leant, Deeming this path you might pursue, Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.» (3)— They moved:-I said Fitz-James was brave, As ever knight that belted glaive; Yet dare not say, that now his blood Kept on its wont and temper'd flood, As, following Roderick's stride, he drew That seeming lonesome path-way through, Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife With lances, that, to take his life, Waited but signal from a guide, So late dishonour'd and defied. Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round The vanish'd guardians of the ground, And still, from copse and heather deep, Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, And in the plover's shrilly strain, The signal whistle heard again. Nor breathed he free till far behind The pass was left; for then they wind Along a wide and level green, Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, Nor rush, nor bush of broom was near, To hide a bonnet or a spear.

XII.

The chief in silence strode before,

And reach'd that torrent's sounding shore,
Which, daughter of three mighty lakes,
From Vennachar in silver breaks,
Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines
On Bochastle the mouldering lines,
Where Rome, the empress of the world,
Of yore her eagle wings unfurl'd. (4)
And here his course the chieftain staid,

down his target and his plaid,

And to the Lowland warrior said:

Saxon to his promise just,
-Apine has discharged his trust.

is murderous chief, this ruthless man,
head of a rebellious clan,

ed thre safe, through watch and ward, Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. Santo man, and steel to steel, Thefain's vengeance thou shalt feel. bere, all vantageless I stand,

make thyself, with single brand; (5) irs Coilantogle ford,

Le must keep thee with thy sword.»——

XIII.

The Saron pansed:—« I ne'er delay'd,
Tus forman bade me draw my blade;
Symore, brave chief, I vow'd thy death:
in thy fair and generous faith,
Audy deep debt for life preserved,
Abetter meed have well deserved:-

aght but blood our feud atone? Lytarre no means?»-« No, stranger, none! dar,-to fire thy flagging zeal,baton cause rests on thy steel; thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred en the living and the dead:The spuls the foremost foeman's life, party conquers in the strife.'»>Ten, by my word,» the Saxon said, Deriddle is already read.

onder brake beneath the cliff,-
There is Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.
Fate has solved her prophecy,
The yield to Fate, and not to me.
James, at Stirling, let us go,
Then, if thou wilt be still his foe,

f the king shall not agree
gant thee grace and favour free,
ght mine honour, oath, and word,
at, to thy native strengths restored,
each advantage shalt thou stand,
That aids thee now to guard thy land.»-

Sars thy presumption then so high,

Cause a wretched kern ye slew,

age to name to Roderick Dhu?

s eye

Beds not, he, to man nor Fate!
T-u add st but fuel to my hate:—
My clansman's blood demands revenge.—
St yet prepared?-By Heaven, I change
Gought, and hold thy valour light
As that of some vain carpet knight,
ill deserved my courteous care,
And whose best boast is but to wear
A braid of his fair lady's hair.»—

thank thee, Roderick, for the word!
It nerves my heart, it steels my sword;
Fel have sworn, this braid to stain
To the best blood that warms thy vein.
Now, truce, farewell! and, ruth, begone!-
Yet think not that by thee alone,
Proud chief! can courtesy be shown;

Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn,
Start at my whistle clansmen stern,

Of this small horn one feeble blast
Would fearful odds against thee cast.
But fear not-doubt not-which thou wilt-
We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.»-
Then each at once his falchion drew,
Each on the ground his scabbard threw,
Each look'd to sun, and stream, and plain,
As what they ne'er might see again;
Then foot, and point, and eye opposed,
In dubious strife they darkly closed.

XV.

Il fared it then with Roderick Dhu,
That on the field his targe he threw, (6)
Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide
Had death so often dash'd aside,
For, train'd abroad his arms to wield,
Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. (7)
He practised every pass and ward,
To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard;
While less expert, though stronger far,
The Gael maintain'd unequal war.
Three times in closing strife they stood,
And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood;
No stinted draught, no scanty tide,
The gushing flood the tartans dyed.
Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain,
And shower'd his blows like wintry rain;
And, as firm rock, or castle-roof,
Against the winter shower is proof,
The foe, invulnerable still,
Foil'd his wild rage by steady skill;
Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand
Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand,
And, backward borne upon the lea,
Brought the proud chieftain to his knee.

XVI.

Now, yield thee, or, by Him who made The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!»« Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! Let recreant yield, who fears to die.»>-Like adder darting from his coil, Like wolf that dashes through the toil, Like mountain-cat who guards her young, Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung; (8) Received, but reck'd not of a wound, And lock'd his arms his foeman round.Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! No maiden's hand is round thee thrown! That desperate grasp thy frame might feel, Through bars of brass and triple steel!— They tug, they strain! down, down, they go, The Gael above, Fitz-James below. The chieftain's gripe his throat compress'd, His knee was planted in his breast; His clotted locks he backward threw, Across his brow his hand he drew, From blood and mist to clear his sight, Then gleam'd aloft his dagger bright! -But hate and fury ill supplied The stream of life's exhausted tide, And all too late the advantage came, To turn the odds of deadly game;