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When lo! a wasted female form,

Blighted by wrath of sun and storm,
In tattered weeds and wild array,
Stood on a cliff beside the way,
And glancing round her restless eye,
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,

Seemed nought to mark, yet all to spy. 510 Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom;

With gesture wild she waved a plume
Of feathers, which the eagles fling
Το crag and cliff from dusky wing;
Such spoils her desperate step had sought,
Where scarce was footing for the goat.
The tartan plaid she first descried,
And shrieked till all the rocks replied;
As loud she laughed when near they
drew,

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For then the Lowland garb she knew;
And then her hands she wildly wrung,
And then she wept, and then she sung -
sung ! - the voice, in better time,
Perchance to harp or lute might chime;
And now, though strained and roughened,

She

still

Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill.

XXII SONG

They bid me sleep, they bid me pray,
They say my brain is warped and

wrung

I cannot sleep

on Highland brae,

530

I cannot pray in Highland tongue.
But were I now where Allan glides,
Or heard my native Devan's tides,
So sweetly would I rest, and pray
That Heaven would close my wintry day!

T was thus my hair they bade me braid,
They made me to the church repair;

It was my bridal morn, they said,

And my true love would meet me there.

But woe betide the cruel guile

539

That drowned in blood the morning smile! And woe betide the fairy dream!

I only waked to sob and scream.

XXIII

'Who is this maid? what means her lay? She hovers o'er the hollow way, And flutters wide her mantle gray, As the lone heron spreads his wing, By twilight, o'er a haunted spring.'

Tis Blanche of Devan,' Murdoch said,

'A crazed and captive Lowland maid, Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, When Roderick forayed Devan-side. The gay bridegroom resistance made, And felt our Chief's unconquered blade. I marvel she is now at large,

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550

But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge.

Hence, brain-sick fool!'- He raised his bow:

Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow, I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far

As ever peasant pitched a bar!'

'Thanks, champion, thanks!' the Maniac cried,

And pressed her to Fitz-James's side.
'See the gray pennons I
prepare,
To seek my true love through the air!
I will not lend that savage groom,
To break his fall, one downy plume!
No! - deep amid disjointed stones,
The wolves shall batten on his bones,
And then shall his detested plaid,
By bush and brier in mid-air stayed,
Wave forth a banner fair and free,
Meet signal for their revelry.'

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Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed, When Ellen's hints and fears were lost; But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, And Blanche's song conviction brought. Not like a stag that spies the snare, But lion of the hunt aware, He waved at once his blade on high, Disclose thy treachery, or die! Forth at full speed the Clansman flew, But in his race his bow he drew. The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest, And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast. Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed, For ne'er had Alpine's son such need; With heart of fire, and foot of wind, The fierce avenger is behind! Fate judges of the rapid strife — The forfeit death — the prize is life; Thy kindred ambush lies before,

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610

620

Close couched upon the heathery moor; Them couldst thou reach!- it may not

be

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650

'Stranger, it is in vain!' she cried.
This hour of death has given me more
Of reason's
than years
power
before;
For, as these ebbing veins decay,
My frenzied visions fade away.
A helpless injured wretch I die,
And something tells me in thine eye
That thou wert mine avenger born.
Seest thou this tress?- O, still I've worn
This little tress of yellow hair,
Through danger, frenzy, and despair!
It once was bright and clear as thine,
But blood and tears have dimmed its shine.
I will not tell thee when 't was shred,
Nor from what guiltless victim's head,-
My brain would turn ! - but it shall wave
Like plumage on thy helmet brave,
Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,
And thou wilt bring it me again.
I waver still. O God! more bright
Let reason beam her parting light!-
O, by thy knighthood's honored sign,
And for thy life preserved by mine,
When thou shalt see a darksome man,
Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan,
With tartans broad and shadowy plume,
And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, 670
Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong,
And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's
wrong!

660

They watch for thee by pass and fell ・・
Avoid the path
O God!... fare-
well!'

...

XXVIII

A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James;
Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims;
And now, with mingled grief and ire,
He saw the murdered maid expire.
'God, in my need, be my relief,
As I wreak this on yonder Chief!'
A lock from Blanche's tresses fair
He blended with her bridegroom's hair;
The mingled braid in blood he dyed,
And placed it on his bonnet-side:

680

'By Him whose word is truth, I swear,
No other favor will I wear,
Till this sad token I imbrue

In the best blood of Roderick Dhu! —
But hark! what means yon faint halloo ?
The chase is up,- but they shall know, 690
The stag at bay's a dangerous foe.'
Barred from the known but guarded way,
Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must
stray,

700

And oft must change his desperate track,
By stream and precipice turned back.
Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,
From lack of food and loss of strength,
He couched him in a thicket hoar,
And thought his toils and perils o'er:
Of all my rash adventures past,
This frantic feat must prove the last!
Who e'er so mad but might have guessed
That all this Highland hornet's nest
Would muster up in swarms so soon
As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ?
Like bloodhounds now they search me
out,

Hark, to the whistle and the shout!
If farther through the wilds I go,
I only fall upon the foe:

I'll couch me here till evening gray, Then darkling try my dangerous way.'

XXIX

710

The shades of eve come slowly down, The woods are wrapt in deeper brown, The owl awakens from her dell, The fox is heard upon the fell; Enough remains of glimmering light To guide the wanderer's steps aright, Yet not enough from far to show His figure to the watchful foe. With cautious step and ear awake, He climbs the crag and threads the brake; And not the summer solstice there Tempered the midnight mountain air, But every breeze that swept the wold Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. In dread, in danger, and alone,

720

Famished and chilled, through ways un

known,

Tangled and steep, he journeyed on; Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, A watch-fire close before him burned.

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And up he sprung with sword in hand, 'Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!' 'A stranger.' 'What dost thou require?' 'Rest and a guide, and food and fire. My life 's beset, my path is lost, The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.' 'Art thou a friend to Roderick?' 'Thou dar'st not call thyself a foe?' 'I dare! to him and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand.' 'Bold words! but, though the beast of

game

'No.'

740

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He gave him of his Highland cheer,
The hardened flesh of mountain deer;
Dry fuel on the fire he laid,

And bade the Saxon share his plaid.
He tended him like welcome guest,
Then thus his further speech addressed:
'Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu
A clansman born, a kinsman true:
Each word against his honor spoke
Demands of ine avenging stroke;
Yet more,
upon thy fate, 't is said,
A mighty augury is laid.

It rests with me to wind my horn,
Thou art with numbers overborne;
It rests with me, here, brand to brand,
Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand:
But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause,
Will I depart from honor's laws;
To assail a wearied man were shame,
And stranger is a holy name;
Guidance and rest, and food and fire,
In vain he never must require.

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770

780

Then rest thee here till dawn of day;
Myself will guide thee on the way,
O'er stock and stone, through watch and
ward,

Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,
As far as Coilantogle's ford;

From thence thy warrant is thy sword.'
'I take thy courtesy, by heaven,
As freely as 't is nobly given!'
'Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry
Sings us the lake's wild lullaby.'
With that he shook the gathered heath,
And spread his plaid upon the wreath;
And the brave foemen, side by side,
Lay peaceful down like brothers tried,
And slept until the dawning beam
Purpled the mountain and the stream.

CANTO FIFTH

THE COMBAT

I

790

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That early beam, so fair and sheen,
Was twinkling through the hazel screen,
When, rousing at its glimmer red,
The warriors left their lowly bed,
Looked out upon the dappled sky,
Muttered their soldier matins by,
And then awaked their fire, to steal,
As short and rude, their soldier meal.
That o'er, the Gael around him threw
His graceful plaid of varied hue,
And, true to promise, led the way,
By thicket green and mountain gray.
A wildering path!-they winded now
Along the precipice's brow,

20

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Here Vennachar in silver flows,
There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose;
Ever the hollow path twined on,
Beneath steep bank and threatening stone;
A hundred men might hold the post
With hardihood against a host.
The rugged mountain's scanty cloak
Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak,
With shingles bare, and cliffs between,
And patches bright of bracken green,
And heather black, that waved so high,
It held the copse in rivalry.

But where the lake slept deep and still, 50
Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill;
And oft both path and hill were torn,
Where wintry torrent down had borne,
And heaped upon the cumbered land
Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand.
So toilsome was the road to trace,
The guide, abating of his pace,
Led slowly through the pass's jaws,
And asked Fitz-James by what strange

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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 fixed 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 strayed,
The merry glance of mountain maid;
Or, if a path be dangerous known,
The danger's self is lure alone.'

V

80

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'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 90 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 loath 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, 100 Bewildered in the mountain-game, Whence the bold boast by which you show Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?' Warrior, but yester-morn I knew Nought of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, Save as an outlawed desperate man, The chief of a rebellious clan, Who, in the Regent's court and sight, With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight; Yet this alone might from his part Sever each true and loyal heart.'

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he paused, then sternly said, And heardst thou why he drew his blade? Heardst thou that shameful word and blow Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe? What recked the Chieftain if he stood On Highland heath or Holy-Rood? He rights such wrong where it is given, If it were in the court of heaven.' 'Still was it outrage; - yet, 't is true,

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The Gael beheld him grim the while,
And answered with disdainful smile:
'Saxon, from yonder mountain high,
I marked thee send delighted eye
Far to the south and east, where lay,
Extended in succession gay,
Deep waving fields and pastures green, 140
With gentle slopes and groves between:-
These fertile plains, that softened vale,
Were once the birthright 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 fattened steer or household bread,
Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 150
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 blade 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 160
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.
Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold
That plundering Lowland field and fold
Is aught but retribution true?
Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu.'

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