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,
The mimic fires of ocean glow,

Those lightnings of the wave;

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.

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
Until they near❜'d the mainland 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.

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,
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."

XXV.

"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