"Peace! peace! to other than to me, Thy words were evil augury; But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid, Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell, Yon fiend-begotten monk can tell. The Chieftain joins him, see-and now, Together they descend the brow." VI. And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord The Hermit Monk held solemn word: "Roderick! it is a fearful strife, For man endowed with mortal life, Whose eye can stare in stony trance, 'Tis hard for such to view, unfurl'd, The curtain of the future world. Yet, witness every quaking limb, My sunken pulse, mine eye-balls dim, At length the fateful answer came, In characters of living flame! Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, But borne and branded on my soul;— WHICH SPILLS THE FOREMOST FOEMAN'S LIFE, THAT PARTY CONQUERS IN THE STRIFE.” VII. "Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care! Good is thine augury, and fair, Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood, But first our broad-swords tasted blood. A surer victim still I know, Self-offered to the auspicious blow: A spy has sought my land this morn,- My followers guard each pass's mouth, VIII. "At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive, Two Barons proud their banners wave. I saw the Moray's silver star, And marked the sable pale of Mar.". "By Alpine's soul, high tidings those! I love to hear of worthy foes. When move they on ?"—" To-morrow's noon Will see them here for battle boune." "Then shall it see a meeting stern! But, for the place-say, couldst thou learn Strengthened by them we well might bide The battle on Benledi's side. Thou couldst not?-well! Clan Alpine's men Shall man the Trosach's shaggy glen; All in our maids' and matrons' sight, Is it the breeze affects mine eye? Or dost thou come, ill-omen'd tear! A messenger of doubt or fear? No! sooner may the Saxon lance Unfix Benledi from his stance, Than doubt or terror can pierce through The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu; Each to his post!-all know their charge.". -I turn me from the martial roar, And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. IX. Where is the Douglas ?-he is gone; And Ellen sits on the grey stone Fast by the cave, and makes her moan; Some refuge from impending war, |