Streamered with silk, and tricked with gold,
Manned with the noble and the bold
Of Island chivalry.
Around their prows the ocean roars,
And chafes beneath their thousand oars,
Yet bears them on their way:
So fumes the war-horse in his might,
That field-ward bears some valiant knight,
Champs till both bit and boss are white,
But, foaming, must obey.
On each gay deck they might behold
Lances of steel and crests of gold,
And hauberks with their burnished fold,
That shimmered fair and free;
And each proud galley, as she passed,
To the wild cadence of the blast
Gave wilder minstrelsy.
Full many a shrill triumphant note
Saline and Scallastle bade float
Their misty shores around;
And Morven's echoes answered well,
And Duart heard the distant sweil
Come down the darksome Sound.
So bore they on with mirth and pride,
And if that labouring bark they spied,
'Twas with such idle eye
As nobles cast on lowly boor,
When, toiling in his task obscure,
They pass him careless by.
Let them sweep on with heedless eyes !
But, had they known what mighty prize
In that frail vessel lay,
The famished wolf that prowls the wold,
Had scathless passed the unguarded fold,
Ere, drifting by these galleys bold,
Unchallenged were her way!
And thou, Lord Ronald, sweep thou on,
With mirth and pride and minstrel tone!
But hadst thou known who sailed so nigh,
Far other glance were in thine eye!
Far other flush were on thy brow,
That, shaded by the bonnet, now
Assumes but ill the blithesome cheer
Of bridegroom when the bride is near!
Yes, sweep tney on !-We will not leave,
For them that triumph, those who grieve.
With that armada gay
Be laughter loud and jocund shout,
And bards to cheer the wassail rout,
With tale, romance, and lay;
And of wild mirth each clamorous art,
Which, if it cannot cheer the heart,
May stupify and stun its smart,
For one loud busy day.
Yes, sweep they on !-But with that skiff
Abides the minstrel tale,
Where there was dread of surge and cliff, And toil that strained each sinew stiff, And one sad Maiden's wail.
All day with fruitless strife they toiled,
With eve the ebbing currents boiled
More fierce from strait and lake;
And midway through the channel met
Conflicting tides that foam and fret,
And high their mingled billows jet,
As spears that, in the battle set,
Spring upward as they break.
Then too the lights of eve were past,
And louder sung the western blast
On rocks of Inninmore;
Rent was the sail, and strained the mast,
And many a leak was gaping fast,
And the pale steersman stood aghast,
And gave the conflict o'er.
'Twas then that One, whose lofty look
Nor labour dulled nor terror shook,
Thus to the Leader spoke:
"Brother, how hopest thou to abide
The fury of this wildered tide,
Or how avoid the rock's rude side,
Until the day has broke?
Didst thou not mark the vessel reel,
With quivering planks and groaning keel,
At the last billow's shock?
Yet how of better counsel tell,
Though here thou seest poor Isabel
Half dead with want and fear;
For look on sea, or look on land,
Or yon dark sky, on every hand
Despair and death are near.
For her alone I grieve-on me
Danger sits light by land and sea,
I follow where thou wilt;
Either to bide the tempest's lour,
Or wend to yon unfriendly tower,
Or rusb amid their naval power,
With war-cry wake their wassail-hour,
And die with hand on hilt."-
That elder Leader's calm reply
In steady voice was given,
"In man's most dark extremity
Oft succour dawns from Heaven.
Edward, trim thou the shattered sail,
The helm be mine, and down the gale
Let our free course be driven;
So shall we 'scape the western bay,
The hostile fleet, the unequal fray,
So safely hold our vessel's way
Beneath the Castle wall;
For if a hope of safety rest,
'Tis on the sacred name of guest,
Who seeks for shelter, storm-distressed,
Within a chieftain's hall.
If not-it best beseems our worth,
Our name, our right, our lofty birth,
By noble hands to fall."-
The helm, to his strong arm consigned,
Gave the reefed sail to meet the wind,
And on her altered 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.
Nor lacked they steadier light to keep
Their course upon the darkened 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 steered,
Whose lustre mingled well
With the pale beam that now appeared, As the cold Moon her head upreared Above the eastern Fell.
Thus guided, on their course they bore
Until they neared 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 deepened shadow made,
Far lengthened on the main below,
Where, dancing in reflected glow,
A hundred torches played,
Spangling the wave with lights as vain
As pleasures in this vale of pain,
That dazzle as they fade.
Beneath the Castle's sheltering lea,
They stayed 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 manned,
'Gainst hundreds armed with spear and
brand,
And plunged them in the deep.
His bugle then the helmsman wound;
Loud answered 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 stayed,
And, vexed at thy delay,
Feared lest, amidst these wildering seas, The darksome night and freshening breeze Had driven thy bark astray."
66 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 son e aid And needful shelter for this maid
Until the break of day;
For, to ourselves, the deck's rude plank
Is easy as the mossy bank
That's breathed upon by May;
And for our storm-tossed skiff we seek
Short shelter in this leeward creek,
Prompt when the dawn the east shall streak,
Again to bear away.
Answered the Warder, "In what name
Assert ye hospitable claim?
Whence come, or whither bound?
Hath Erin seen your parting sails?
Or come ye on Norweyan gales?
And seek ye England's fertile vales,
Or Scotland's mountain ground?"-
"Warriors-for other title none
For some brief space we list to own,
Bound by a vow-warriors are we;
In strife by land, and storm by sea,
We have been known to fame:
And these brief words have import dear,
When sounded in a noble ear,
To harbour safe, and friendly cheer,
That gives us rightful claim.
Grant us the trivial boon we seek,
And we in other realms will speak
Fair of your courtesy;
Deny-and be your niggard Hold
Scorned by the noble and the bold,
Shunned by the pilgrim on the wold,
And wanderer on the lea!"
"Bold stranger, no-'gainst claim like thine,
No bolt revolves by hand of mine,
Though urged in tone that more expressed
A monarch than a suppliant guest,
Be what ye will, Artornish Hall
On this glad eve is free to all.
Though ye had drawn a hostile sword
'Gainst our great ally, England's Lord,
Or mail upon your shoulders borne,
To battle with the Lord of Lorn,
Or, outlawed, dwelt by greenwood tree
With the fierce Knight of Ellerslie,
Or aided even the murderous strife,
When Comyn fell beneath the knife
Of that fell homicide The Bruce,
This night had been a term of truce.-
Ho, vassals! give these guests your care,
And show the narrow postern stair."-
To land these two bold brethren leapt,
(The weary crew their vessel kept)
And, lighted by the torches' flare,
That seaward fung their smoky glare,
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