There will she now be sought in vain.
We saw her from the mountain head
When, with Saint George's blazon red
A southern vessel bore in sight,
And yours raised sail and took to flight.'

XXI

440

450

Now, by the rood, unwelcome news!' Thus with Lord Ronald communed Bruce; 'Nor rests there light enough to show If this their tale be true or no. The men seem bred of churlish kind, Yet mellow nuts have hardest rind; We will go with them food and fire And sheltering roof our wants require. Sure guard 'gainst treachery will we keep, And watch by turns our comrades' sleep. Good fellows, thanks; your guests we'll be, And well will pay the courtesy. Come, lead us where your lodging liesNay, soft! we mix not companies. Show us the path o'er crag and stone, And we will follow you; - lead on.'

XXII

They reached the dreary cabin, made
Of sails against a rock displayed,

And there on entering found
A slender boy, whose form and mien
Ill suited with such savage scene,
In cap and cloak of velvet green,
Low seated on the ground.

His garb was such as minstrels wear,
Dark was his hue, and dark his hair,
His youthful cheek was marred by care,
His eyes in sorrow drowned.

460

470

"Whence this poor boy?'- As Ronald spoke,

The voice his trance of anguish broke;
As if awaked from ghastly dream,

He raised his head with start and scream,
And wildly gazed around;

Then to the wall his face he turned,
And his dark neck with blushes burned.

XXIII

Whose is the boy ?' again he said.

By chance of war our captive made;

480

He may be yours, if you should hold
That music has more charms than gold;
For, though from earliest childhood mute,
The lad can deftly touch the lute,
And on the rote and viol play,
And well can drive the time away
For those who love such glee;

For me the favoring breeze, when loud It pipes upon the galley's shroud, Makes blither melody.' 'Hath he, then, sense of spoken sound ?’— 'Ay; so his mother bade us know, A crone in our late shipwreck drowned, And hence the silly stripling's woe. More of the youth I cannot say, Our captive but since yesterday; When wind and weather waxed so grim, We little listed think of him. But why waste time in idle words? Sit to your cheer - unbelt your swords.' Sudden the captive turned his head, And one quick glance to Ronald sped. It was a keen and warning look, And well the chief the signal took.

XXIV

500

530

'Kind host,' he said, 'our needs require A separate board and separate fire; For know that on a pilgrimage Wend I, my comrade, and this page. And, sworn to vigil and to fast Long as this hallowed task shall last, We never doff the plaid or sword, Or feast us at a stranger's board, And never share one common sleep, But one must still his vigil keep. Thus, for our separate use, good friend, We'll hold this hut's remoter end.'A churlish vow,' the elder said, 'And hard, methinks, to be obeyed. How say you, if, to wreak the scorn That pays our kindness harsh return, We should refuse to share our meal?' — 520 'Then say we that our swords are steel! And our vow binds us not to fast Where gold or force may buy repast.'Their host's dark brow grew keen and

540

For evil seemed that old man's eye, Dark and designing, fierce yet shy. Still he avoided forward look, But slow and circumspectly took A circling, never-ceasing glance, By doubt and cunning marked at once, Which shot a mischief-boding_ray From under eyebrows shagged and gray. The younger, too, who seemed his son, Had that dark look the timid shun; The half-clad serfs behind them sate, And scowled a glare 'twixt fear and hate Till all, as darkness onward crept, Couched down, and seemed to sleep or slept.

Nor he, that boy, whose powerless tongue

Must trust his eyes to wail his wrong,
A longer watch of sorrow made,
But stretched his limbs to slumber laid.

XXVI

550

Not in his dangerous host confides The king, but wary watch provides. Ronald keeps ward till midnight past, Then wakes the king, young Allan last; Thus ranked, to give the youthful page The rest required by tender age. What is Lord Ronald's wakeful thought 560 To chase the languor toil had brought? For deem not that he deigned to throw Much care upon such coward foeHe thinks of lovely Isabel

570

When at her foeman's feet she fell,
Nor less when, placed in princely selle,
She glanced on him with favoring eyes
At Woodstock when he won the prize.
Nor, fair in joy, in sorrow fair,
In pride of place as mid despair,
Must she alone engross his care.
His thoughts to his betrothed bride,
To Edith, turn - O, how decide,
When here his love and heart are given,
And there his faith stands plight to
Heaven!

No drowsy ward 't is his to keep,
For seldom lovers long for sleep.
Till sung his midnight hymn the owl,
Answered the dog-fox with his howl,
Then waked the king-
Lord Ronald stretched himself to rest.
at his request, 580

333

590

600

To Allan's eyes was harder task The weary watch their safeties ask. He trimmed the fire and gave to shine With bickering light the splintered pine; Then gazed awhile where silent laid Their hosts were shrouded by the plaid. But little fear waked in his mind, For he was bred of martial kind, And, if to manhood he arrive, May match the boldest knight alive. Then thought he of his mother's tower, 610 His little sister's greenwood bower, How there the Easter-gambols pass, And of Dan Joseph's lengthened mass. But still before his weary eye In rays prolonged the blazes die Again he roused him on the lake Looked forth where now the twilight-flake Of pale cold dawn began to wake. On Coolin's cliffs the mist lay furled, The morning breeze the lake had curled, 620 The short dark waves, heaved to the land, With ceaseless plash kissed cliff or sand; It was a slumbrous sound- - he turned To tales at which his youth had burned, Of pilgrim's path by demon crossed, Of sprightly elf or yelling ghost, Of the wild witch's baneful cot, And mermaid's alabaster grot, Who bathes her limbs in sunless well Deep in Strathaird's enchanted cell. Thither in fancy rapt he flies, And on his sight the vaults arise; That hut's dark walls he sees no more, His foot is on the marble floor, And o'er his head the dazzling spars

630

Rent and unequal, lay the road.
In sad discourse the warriors wind,
And the mute captive moves behind.

CANTO FOURTH

I

Of desert dignity to that dread shore That sees grim Coolin rise and hears Coriskin roar.

II

Through such wild scenes the champion passed,

When bold halloo and bugle-blast

30

'There,' said the Bruce, 'rung Edward's

But then his color rose:

Now, Scotland! shortly shalt thou see, With God's high will, thy children free 60 And vengeance on thy foes!

Yet to no sense of selfish wrongs,
Bear witness with me, Heaven, belongs

My joy o'er Edward's bier;

I took my knighthood at his hand,
And lordship held of him and land,

And well may vouch it here,
That, blot the story from his page
Of Scotland ruined in his rage,