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XIII.

"THE LORD OF THE ISLES."

PORTION of this work, as has been remarked, was written at Abbotsford, in 1814, we are informed in the presence of Scott's family; and a portion, indeed, "in that of casual visitors, also; the original cottage which he then occupied not affording him any means of retirement. Neither conversation nor music seemed to disturb him." Quite correctly, he said: "I could hardly have chosen a subject more popular in Scotland, than any thing connected with the Bruce's history, unless I had attempted that of Wallace." The former hero is the hero of this poem, - a work containing noble passages, yet, as a whole, rivalled by his more dazzling earlier poems. Its scene "lies, at first, in the Castle of Artornish, on the coast of Argyleshire; and, afterwards, in the Islands of Skye and Arran, and upon the coast of Ayrshire. Finally, it is laid near Stirling. The story opens in the spring of the year 1307, when Bruce, who had been driven out of Scotland by the English, and the Barons who adhered to that foreign interest, returned from the Island of Rachrin on the coast of Ireland, again to assert his claims to the Scottish crown. Many of the personages

and incidents introduced are of historical celebrity." The poem begins spiritedly:

"Wake, Maid of Lorn!' the Minstrels sung.

Thy rugged halls, Artornish! rung,

And the dark seas, thy towers that lave,
Heaved on the beach a softer wave,

As 'mid the tuneful choir to keep

The diapason of the Deep."

Artornish, like most of the other scenes of this poem, is upon the western shore of Scotland, and can be readily and agreeably reached by travellers during summer. Along no other equal portion of the coasts of the British Isles (or those of eastern America) can so interesting sea-scenery be found — in good weather, that occasionally exists, even in Scotland. Travellers along this western shore, almost without exception, sometime find themselves at Oban, the focal point to and from which routes thereabouts radiIt is a notable station for steamers. From it, two or three

ate.

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times each week, by excellent vessels there is the readiest access either to Staffa and Iona, or to the Sounds of Mull and Sleat, and the Isle of Skye or the Hebrides.

The course towards all these places first crosses Loch Linnhe, and successively passes, to the north, a white light-house marking the southern end of Lismore Island, -a low, rocky point; and, farther on, to the southward, on green and not highly rising ground of Mull, Duart Castle, small and gray, and quite a pretty object in the landscape. The Sound of Mull is then entered. Its breadth is favorable to picturesqueness of effect, -wide enough to give that of space, and not too wide to separate the shores so far as to dwarf the features of either. For many miles onward lies, to the southward or westward, the large, irregular island, Mull, perhaps generally more varied, more bold, and more pleasing in its hill forms and aspects than the opposite coasts, those of Morvern, the mainland, that are kept on the right during the whole voyage to Skye. Yet these latter coasts present an interesting variety of surfaces; at times, very long, extensive, gradual slopes attaining an elevated central point. These slopes are mostly bare and grassy, and relieved here and there, on the lower portions only, by dark, fresh, green trees. Not far westward, and prominent upon the northern shore, may be seen Artornish Castle, situated on a low, basaltic promontory, extending rather a long distance into the Sound from steep hill-slopes that, not far back and away from it, are broken by high cliffs rising from much steeper slopes of débris. The Castle is darkgray, and very ruinous. It is small now, consisting chiefly of a broken tower, around which appear slighter traces of outworks. Few travellers other than those with a wealth of leisure stop in this vicinity. The country is wild, lonely, weird-looking, and undoubtedly could interest those who fancy such a region. Not a few stories are associated with it; indeed, a portion of it was pronounced by Professor Wilson "an abyss of poetry."

Inconsiderable as Artornish may seem now, at the time of the action of the poem it was an important place. Not only chief seat of the Lords of the Isles, it was a meeting-place of their feudal parliaments, and was the scene of a league with Edward I. of England against the crown of Scotland. These celebrated Lords, of Scandinavian descent, held sway through all this region from the twelfth to the fifteenth centuries; and indeed, in the Clan Macdonald, they were represented among the old Highland powers until these were

finally broken up. On this clan, Bruce conferred the post of honor in battle," the right." As has been told, it was during this period of greatness that this story opens; when minstrels are bidding Edith, the proud and beautiful maid of Lorn, to rise on the auspicious morning when she should

"Impledge her spousal faith to wed
The heir of mighty Somerled!
Ronald, from many a hero sprung,
The fair, the valiant, and the young,
Lord of the Isles, whose lofty name
A thousand bards have given to fame."
"Yet, empress of this joyful day,

Edith is sad while all are gay."

The young lady did not appear desirous of forming this seemingly quite eligible alliance. Nevertheless, Lord Ronald, with a stately fleet and brilliant company arrived at the castle, borne thither "by the willing breeze." Almost simultaneously, but coming in an opposite direction, a small, lonely, sea-beaten bark, with difficulty made its way also to the castle. Possibly Sir Walter's descriptions of this castle exhibit poetic license: they certainly make it a large and imposing edifice compared with what it is now. Yet one can imagine it in its pride what he has imagined it, and imagine scenes that he has represented in it: at first, how from the comparatively insignificant vessel, little heeded by the Island Lord, "two bold brethren leapt to land;" how the younger, a knight, bore a maiden "half lifeless up the rock," and, through the portcullis arch, to the castle guard-room; how this younger veiled in a plaid the maiden whom he bore his sister—to hide her from the "vulgar crowd” of gazing vassals and servants; and how they were at length duly ushered to the Baron's hall,

"Where feasted fair and free,
That Island Prince in nuptial tide,
With Edith there, his lovely bride,

And her bold brother by her side,
And many a chief, the flower and pride
Of Western land and sea."

"With beakers' clang, with harpers' lay,
With all that olden time deem'd gay"
They "feasted high.”

Notwithstanding this festivity, Edith was sorely disquieted, and Ronald was flushed with

"Emotions such as draw their birth

From deeper source than festal mirth,"

and many of the company were suspicious, and not amicably observant of the strangers. Among those observant must have been one of the guests, De Argentine, an English knight come to assist in compacting the league of his country with the western barons who opposed the cause of the Scottish crown. And it was a stormy scene when the company that had suspected, unmistakably identified one of these strangers, and, when Lord Lorn, the "confederate" leader sternly cried: "'Tis he himself!". the Bruce!

"Then up sprang many a mainland Lord," -
"Barcaldine's arm is high in air,

And Kinloch-Alline's blade is bare,
Black Murthok's dirk has left its sheath,
And clench'd is Dermid's hand of death.
Their mutter'd threats of vengeance swell
Into a wild and warlike yell;

Onward they press with weapons high,
The affrighted females shriek and fly
And, Scotland, then thy brightest ray
Had darken'd ere its noon of day, -
But every chief of birth and fame,
That from the Isles of Ocean came,
At Ronald's side that hour withstood
Fierce Lorn's relentless thirst for blood.

Brave Torquil from Dunvegan high,
Lord of the misty hills of Skye,
Mac-Neil, wild Bara's ancient thane,
Duart, of bold Clan-Gillian's strain,
Fergus, of Canna's castled bay,
Mac-Duffith, Lord of Colonsay,

Soon as they saw the broadswords glance,

With ready weapons rose at once,

More prompt, that many an ancient feud,
Full oft suppress'd, full oft renew'd,

Glow'd 'twixt the chieftains of Argyle,
And many a lord of ocean's isle.

Wild was the scene!"

The war of words that thus arose forms too long a story for this chapter, and is best read entire. It ended with bestowal of blessing upon the discovered Bruce, pronounced by an abbot or "monk" "summon'd to unite " the betrothed, who, turning a curse into benediction, exclaimed,

And then the company, in general silence, withdrew; but another quite as impassioned though less tumultuous scene ensued. Lord Lorn discovered that Edith, his sister, had fled, some said to the nunnery at Iona to escape a possible betrothal, that she dreaded, with the English knight. Lorn instantly ordered pursuit by sea.

"And Cormac Doil in haste obey'd,
Hoisted his sail, his anchor weigh'd;
For, glad of each pretext for spoil,
A pirate sworn was Cormac Doil."

Later that night there was quite a different scene in the bed-chamber of the Bruce, when Ronald rather stealthily appeared there with "Dunvegan's chief," and both kneeled to the monarch.

"They proffer'd aid, by arms and might,

To repossess him in his right;
But well their counsels must be weigh'd,
Ere banners raised and musters made,
For English hire and Lorn's intrigues
Bound many chiefs in southern leagues."

King Robert was advised by them "to bide his time," and not to risk himself where he then was. So it was arranged, that, with Ronald, he should depart,

"Secret and safe... to lie

In the far bounds of friendly Skye."

"With Bruce and Ronald bides the tale," and thus we are conducted next to the "romantic shore" of that remote and wildest of islands, Skye.

The route now is nearly that of the two nobles. It leads northwestward, through the continually agreeable scenery of the Sound of Mull, past many picturesque hills and shores and bays. Among these is Tobermory; "The Well of our Lady St. Mary," delightfully situated, and presenting, all around, great grassy slopes and richly wooded banks, brightened by pretty cascades. Several miles onward, to the right, rises the grand Point of Ardnamurchan, flanked south by the deep inland reach of Loch Sunart, and backed by the lofty, varied, acutely topped Ardnamurchan Mountains, with their huge, bare, lonely, and impressive Scottish Highland features. The chief elevation reminds one of Ben Venue. During the rounding of this Point, the traveller is exposed to the full swell of the broad Atlantic, whose vast expanse ripples or swells or rolls, far as the eye can see westward. Thence the course stretches away