Barr'd from the known but guarded

way,

Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray,

And oft mustchange his desperate track,
By stream and precipice turn'd back.
Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,
From lack of food and loss of strength,
He couch'd 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!
Whoe'erso mad but might have guess'd,
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 grey,
Then darkling try my dangerous way.'

XXIX.

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,
Temper'd the midnight mountain air,
But every breeze, that swept the wold,
Benumb'd his drenched limbs with
cold.

In dread, in danger, and alone, Famish'd and chill'd, through ways unknown,

Tangled and steep, he journey'd on ; Till, as a rock's huge point he turn'd, A watch-fire close before him burn'd.

'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 chill'd my limbs with frost.' 'Art thou a friend to Roderick?' 'No.' 'Thou darest 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

The privilege of chase may claim, Though space and law the stag we lend, Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, Whoeverreck'd, where, how, or when, The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain? Thus treacherous scouts,-yet sure they lie

Who say thou cam'st a secret spy!' They do, by heaven! Come Roderick

Dhu,

And of his clan the boldest two,
And let me but till morning rest,
I write the falsehood on their crest.'
'If by the blaze I mark aright,

Thou bear'st the belt and spur of
Knight.'

'Then by these tokens mayest thou know

Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.' 'Enough, enough; sit down and share A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.'

XXXI.

He gave him of his Highland cheer, The harden'd 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 farther speech address'd:

Here Vennachar in silver flows, There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose; Ever the hollow path twined on, Beneath steep bank and threatening stone;

An 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,
Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill;
And oft both path and hill were torn,
Where wintry torrents down had
borne,

And heap'd upon the cumber'd 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 ask'd Fitz-James, by what strange

cause

He sought these wilds, traversed by few,

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.

IV.

'Brave Gael, my pass in danger tried,
Hangs in my belt, and by my side;
Yet, sooth to tell,' the Saxon said,
'I dreamt not now to claim its aid.
When here, but three days since,
I came,

Bewilder'd in pursuit of game,
All seem'd as peaceful and as still
As the mist slumbering on yon hill;
Thy dangerous Chief was then afar,
Nor soon expected back from war.
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 fix'd

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 stray'd,
The merry glance of mountain maid:
Or, if a path be dangerous known,
The danger's self is lure alone.'

V.

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 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 loth 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, Bewilder'd in the mountain game, Whence the bold boast by which you show

Vich-Alpine's vow'd and mortal foe?'
'Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew
Nought of thy Chieftain, Roderick
Dhu,

Save as an outlaw'd desperate man,
The chief of a rebellious clan,
Who, in the Regent's court and sight,
With ruffian dagger stabb'd a knight:
Yet this alone might from his part
Sever each true and loyal heart.'

VI.

Wrothful at such arraignment foul, Dark lower'd the clansman's sable scowl.

A space he paused, then sternly said, 'And heard'st thou why he drew his blade?

Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow

Brought Roderick's vengeance on his

foe?

What reck'd 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, 'tis true,
Not then claim'd sovereignty his due;
While Albany, with feeble hand,
Held borrow'd truncheon of command,
The young King, mew'd in Stirling
tower,

Was stranger to respect and power.
But then, thy Chieftain's robber life!
Winning mean prey by causeless strife,
Wrenching from ruin'd Lowland swain
His herds and harvest reared in vain.
Methinks a soul, like thine, should

scorn

The spoils from such foul foray borne.'

VII.

The Gael beheld him grim the while,
And answer'd with disdainful smile,
'Saxon, from yonder mountain high,
I mark'd thee send delighted eye,
Far to the south and east, where lay,
Extended in succession gay,
Deep waving fields and pastures green,
With gentle slopes and groves be-

tween:

These fertile plains, that soften'd 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 fatten'd steer or household bread;
Ask we for flocks these shingles dry,
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 blades 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
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.'

VIII.

Answer'd Fitz-James, 'And, if I sought, Think'st thou no other could be brought?

What deem ye of my path waylaid?
My life given o'er to ambuscade?'
'As of a meed to rashness due:
Hadst thou sent warning fair and true-
I seek my hound, or falcon stray'd,
I seek, good faith, a Highland maid—
Free hadst thou been to come and go;
But secret path marks secret foe.
Nor yet, for this, even as a spy,
Hadst thou unheard been doom'd to
die,

Save to fulfil an augury.'
'Well, let it pass; nor will I now
Fresh cause of enmity avow,

To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow.
Enough, I am by promise tied
To match me with this man of pride:
Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen
In peace; but when I come agen,

I come with banner, brand, and bow,
As leader seeks his mortal foe.
For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower,
Ne'er panted for the appointed hour,
As I, until before me stand
This rebel Chieftain and his band!'

- IX.

'Have, then, thy wish!' He whistled

shrill,

And he was answer'd from the hill; Wild as the scream of the curlew, From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath,

arose

Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
On right, on left, above, below,
Sprung up at once the lurking foe;
From shingles grey their lances start,
The bracken bush sends forth the
dart,

The rushes and the willow-wand
Are bristling into axe and brand,
And every tuft of broom gives life
To plaided warrior arm'd for strife.
That whistle garrison'd the glen
At once with full five hundred men,
As if the yawning hill to heaven
A subterranean host had given.
Watching their leader's beck and will,
All silent there they stood, and still.
Like the loose crags, whose threatening

mass

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass,
As if an infant's touch could urge
Their headlong passage down the

verge,

With step and weapon forward flung,
Upon the mountain-side they hung.
The Mountaineer cast glance of pride
Along Benledi's living side,
Then fix'd his eye and sable brow
Full on Fitz-James-' How say'st thou
now?

These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;

And, Saxon,-I am Roderick Dhu!'

X.

Fitz-James was brave. Though to his

heart

The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start,
He mann'd himself with dauntless air,
Return'd the Chief his haughty stare,
His back against a rock he bore,
And firmly placed his foot before:
'Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I.'
Sir Roderick mark'd, and in his eyes
Respect was mingled with surprise,
And the stern joy which warriors feel
In foemen worthy of their steel.
Short space he stood, then waved his
hand:

Down sunk the disappearing band;
Each warrior vanish'd where he stood,
In broom or bracken, heath or wood;
Sunk brand and spear and bended bow,
In osiers pale and copses low;
It seem'd as if their mother Earth
Had swallow'd up her warlike birth.
The wind's last breath had toss'd in air
Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair;
The next but swept a lone hill-side,
Where heath and fern were waving
wide:

The sun's last glance was glinted back, From spear and glaive, from targe and jack;

The next, all unreflected, shone
On bracken green and cold grey stone.

XI.

Fitz-James look'd round, yet scarce believed

The witness that his sight received;
Such apparition well might seem
Delusion of a dreadful dream.
Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,
And to his look the Chief replied,
'Fear nought-nay, that I need not

say

But doubt not aught from mine array. Thou art my guest; I pledged my word As far as Coilantogle ford: