XII. Ever the breeze blows merrily, But the galley ploughs no more the sea. Up Tarbat's western lake they bore, As far as Kilmaconnel's shore, Upon the eastern bay. It was a wond'rous sight to sec For ancient legends told the Gael, That when a royal bark should sail Old Albyn should in fight prevail, And every foe should faint and quail Before her silver Cross. XIII. Now launch'd once more, the inland sea They furrow with fair augury, And steer for Arran's isle; The sun, ere yet he sunk behind Ben-ghoil," the Mountain of the Wind," Gave his grim peaks a greeting kind, And bade Loch-Ranza smile. Thither their destined course they drew; It seem'd the isle her monarch knew, So brilliant was the landward view, The ocean so serene; K Each puny wave in diamonds roll'd O'er the calm deep, where hues of gold With azure strove and green. The hill, the vale, the tree, the tower, The beach was silver sheen, The wind breathed soft as lover's sigh, With breathless pause between. O who, with speech of war and woes, Of such enchanting scene! XIV. Is it of war Lord Ronald speaks? The timid look, and down-cast eye, And faultering voice the theme deny. He ponder'd o'er some high request, As doubtful to approve; Yet in his eye and lip the while Dwelt the half-pitying glance and smile, Anxious his suit Lord Ronald pled; "And for my bride betrothed," he said, "My Liege has heard the rumour spread Of Edith from Artornish fled. Too hard her fate-I claim no right To blame her for her hasty flight; Be joy and happiness her lot ! But she hath fled the bridal-knot, And Lorn recall'd his promised plight, I was repulsed with scorn; Mine honour I should ill assert, And worse the feelings of my heart, If I should play a suitor's part Again, to pleasure Lorn.". A 30 AN XV. "Young Lord," the Royal Bruce replied, "That question must the Church decide; Yet seems it hard, since rumours state The very tie, which she hath broke, To thee should still be binding yoke. The mood of woman who can tell? I guess the Champion of the Rock, Victorious in the tourney shock, That knight unknown, to whom the prize She dealt, had favour in her eyes; But since our brother Nigel's fate, Our ruin'd house and hapless state, From worldly joy and hope estranged, Much is the hapless mourner changed. Perchance," here smiled the noble King, "This tale may other musings bring. |