Beneath the Castle wall; For if a hope of safety rest, "Tis 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."— XXI. 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, Those lightnings of the wave; Wild sparkles crest the broken tides, While, far behind, their livid light 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. XXII. 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. XXIII. Thus guided, on their course they bore Like funeral shrieks with revelry, Or like the battle-shout By peasants heard from cliffs on high, Madden the fight and rout. Now nearer yet, through mist and storm, And deepen'd shadow made, Far lengthen'd on the main below, Where, dancing in reflected glow, Spangling the wave with lights as vain That dazzle as they fade. XXIV. 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. 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, "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." XXV. "Warder," the younger stranger said, Brook not of glee. We crave some aid |