XVI.

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 famish'd wolf, that prowls the wold, Had scatheless pass'd 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 had'st thou known who sail'd 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!

XVII.

Yes, sweep they 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.

t

Yes, sweep they on!-But with that skiff
Abides the minstrel tale,

Where there was dread of surge and cliff,
Labour that strain'd each sinew stiff,
And one sad Maiden's wail.

XVIII.

All day with fruitless strife they toil'd,
With eve the ebbing currents boil'd

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 strain'd the mast.
And many a leak was gaping fast,
And the pale steersman stood aghast,
And gave the conflict o'er.

XIX.

"T was then that One, whose lofty look
Nor labour dull'd nor terror shook,
Thus to the Leader spoke :-
"Brother, how hopest thou to abide
The fury of this wilder'd 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 see'st poor Isabel

Or

Half dead with want and fear; For look on sea, or look on land, 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 rush amid their naval power, With war-cry wake their wassail-hour, And die with hand on hilt."—

XX.

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 shatter'd 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-distress'd
Within a chieftain's hall.

If not-it best beseems our worth,
Our name, our right, our lofty birth,
By noble hands to fall."

XXI.

The helm, to his strong arm consign'd,
Gave the reef'd sail to meet the wind,
And on her alter'd 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,

1 The phenomenon called by sailors Sea-fire, is one of the most beautiful and interesting which is witnessed in the Hebrides. At times the ocean appears entirely illuminated around the vessel, and a long train of lambent coruscations are perpetually bursting upon the sides of the vessel, or pursuing her wake through the darkness. These phosphoric appearances, concerning the origin of which naturalists are not agreed in opinion, seem to be called into action by the rapid motion of the ship through the water, and are probably owing to the water being saturated with fish-spawn, or other animal substances. They remind one strongly of the description of the sea-snakes in Mr. Coleridge's wild, but highly poetical ballad of the Ancient Mariner::

"Beyond the shadow of the ship

I watch'd the water-snakes,

They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they rear'd, the elvish light
Fell off in hoary flakes."

VOL. V.-4

It seems as if old Ocean shakes

From his dark brow the lucid flakes

In envious pageantry,

To match the meteor light that streaks Grim Hecla's midnight sky.

XXII.

Nor lack'd they steadier light to keep Their course upon the darken'd 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 steer'd, Whose lustre mingled well

With the pale beam that now appear'd, As the cold moon her head uprear'd Above the eastern fell.

XXIII.

Thus guided, on their course they bore,
Until they near'd 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.