The Lady of the Lake Part 20

XX

"Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, The Saxon stood in sullen trance, Till Moray pointed with his lance, And cried--'Behold yon isle!

See! none are left to guard its strand, 535 But women weak, that wring the hand; 'Tis there of yore the robber band Their booty wont to pile.

My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, 540 And loose a shallop from the sh.o.r.e.

Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then, Lords of his mate, and brood, and den.'

Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung, On earth his casque and corselet rung, 545 He plunged him in the wave; All saw the deed--the purpose knew, And to their clamors Benvenue A mingled echo gave; The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 550 The helpless females scream for fear, And yells for rage the mountaineer.

'Twas then, as by the outcry riven, Poured down at once the lowering heaven; A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast, 555 Her billows reared their snowy crest.

Well for the swimmer swelled they high, To mar the Highland marksman's eye; For round him showered, 'mid rain and hail, The vengeful arrows of the Gael. 560 In vain--he nears the isle--and lo!

His hand is on a shallop's bow.

Just then a flash of lightning came, It tinged the waves and strand with flame; I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame, 565 Behind an oak I saw her stand, A naked dirk gleamed in her hand; It darkened--but, amid the moan Of waves, I heard a dying groan; Another flash!--the spearman floats 570 A weltering corse beside the boats, And the stern matron o'er him stood, Her hand and dagger streaming blood.

XXI

"'Revenge! revenge!' the Saxons cried; The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 575 Despite the elemental rage, Again they hurried to engage; But, ere they closed in desperate fight, b.l.o.o.d.y with spurring came a knight, Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag, 580 Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag.

Clarion and trumpet by his side Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, While, in the Monarch's name, afar An herald's voice forbade the war, 585 For Bothwell's lord, and Roderick bold, Were both, he said, in captive hold."

--But here the lay made sudden stand, The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand!-- Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 590 How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy: At first, the Chieftain, to the chime, With lifted hand, kept feeble time; That motion ceased--yet feeling strong Varied his look as changed the song; 595 At length, no more his deafened ear The minstrel melody can hear; His face grows sharp--his hands are clenched, As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched; Set are his teeth, his fading eye 600 Is sternly fixed on vacancy; Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu!

Old Allan-bane looked on aghast, While grim and still his spirit pa.s.sed; 605 But when he saw that life was fled, He poured his wailing o'er the dead.

XXII

LAMENT

"And art thou cold and lowly laid, Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade! 610 For thee shall none a requiem say?

--For thee--who loved the minstrel's lay, For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, The shelter of her exiled line, E'en in this prison-house of thine 615 I'll wail for Alpine's honored Pine!

"What groans shall yonder valleys fill!

What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill!

What tears of burning rage shall thrill, When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 620 Thy fall before the race was won, Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun!

There breathes not clansman of thy line, But would have given his life for thine.

O woe for Alpine's honored Pine! 625

"Sad was thy lot on mortal stage!

The captive thrush may brook the cage, The prisoned eagle dies for rage.

Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain!

And, when its notes awake again, 630 Even she, so long beloved in vain, Shall with my harp her voice combine, And mix her woe and tears with mine, To wail Clan-Alpine's honored Pine."

XXIII

Ellen, the while, with bursting heart, 635 Remained in lordly bower apart, Where played, with many colored gleams, Through storied pane the rising beams.

In vain on gilded roof they fall, And lightened up a tapestried wall, 640 And for her use a menial train A rich collation spread in vain.

The banquet proud, the chamber gay, Scarce drew one curious glance astray; Or if she looked, 'twas but to say, 645 With better omen dawned the day In that lone isle where waved on high The dun-deer's hide for canopy; Where oft her n.o.ble father shared The simple meal her care prepared, 650 While Lufra, crouching by her side, Her station claimed with jealous pride, And Douglas, bent on woodland game, Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, Whose answer, oft at random made, 655 The wandering of his thoughts betrayed.

Those who such simple joys have known, Are taught to prize them when they're gone.

But sudden, see, she lifts her head!

The window seeks with cautious tread. 660 What distant music has the power To win her in this woeful hour!

Twas from a turret that o'erhung Her latticed bower, the strain was sung.

XXIV

LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN

"My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 665 My idle greyhound loathes his food, My horse is weary of his stall, And I am sick of captive thrall.

I wish I were as I have been, Hunting the hart in forest green, 670 With bended bow and bloodhound free, For that's the life is meet for me.

"I hate to learn the ebb of time, From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 675 Inch after inch, along the wall.

The lark was wont my matins ring, The sable rook my vespers sing; These towers, although a king's they be, Have not a hall of joy for me. 680

"No more at dawning morn I rise, And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, Drive the fleet deer the forest through, And homeward wend with evening dew; A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 685 And lay my trophies at her feet, While fled the eve on wing of glee-- That life is lost to love and me!"

XXV

The heartsick lay was hardly said, The list'ner had not turned her head, 690 It trickled still, the starting tear, When light a footstep struck her ear, And Snowdoun's graceful knight was near.

She turned the hastier, lest again The prisoner should renew his strain. 695 "O welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said; "How may an almost orphan maid Pay the deep debt"--"O say not so!

To me no grat.i.tude you owe.

Not mine, alas! the boon to give, 700 And bid thy n.o.ble father live; I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, With Scotland's King thy suit to aid.

No tyrant he, though ire and pride May lay his better mood aside. 705 Come, Ellen, come! 'tis more than time, He holds his court at morning prime."

With beating heart, and bosom wrung, As to a brother's arm she clung.

Gently he dried the falling tear, 710 And gently whispered hope and cheer; Her faltering steps, half led, half stayed, Through gallery fair, and high arcade, Till, at his touch, its wings of pride A portal arch unfolded wide. 715

XXVI

Within 'twas brilliant all and light, A thronging scene of figures bright; It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight, As when the setting sun has given Ten thousand hues to summer even, 720 And from their tissue, fancy frames Aerial knights and fairy dames.

Still by Fitz-James her footing stayed; A few faint steps she forward made, Then slow her drooping head she raised, 725 And fearful round the presence gazed; For him she sought, who owned this state, The dreaded Prince whose will was fate!-- She gazed on many a princely port, Might well have ruled a royal court; 730 On many a splendid garb she gazed-- Then turned bewildered and amazed, For all stood bare; and, in the room, Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume.

To him each lady's look was lent; 735 On him each courtier's eye was bent; Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen, He stood, in simple Lincoln green, The center of the glittering ring-- And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King. 740

XXVII

As wreath of snow, on mountain breast, Slides from the rock that gave it rest, Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And at the Monarch's feet she lay; No word her choking voice commands-- 745 She showed the ring--she clasped her hands.

Oh! not a moment could he brook, The generous Prince, that suppliant look!

Gently he raised her--and, the while, Checked with a glance the circle's smile; 750 Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, And bade her terrors be dismissed: "Yes, Fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James The fealty of Scotland claims.

To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring; 755 He will redeem his signet-ring.

Ask naught for Douglas; yester even His prince and he have much forgiven.

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 760 We would not, to the vulgar crowd, Yield what they craved with clamor loud; Calmly we heard and judged his cause, Our council aided, and our laws.

I stanched thy father's death-feud stern, 765 With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn; And Bothwell's lord henceforth we own The friend and bulwark of our throne.

But, lovely infidel, how now?

What clouds thy misbelieving brow? 770 Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid; Thou must confirm this doubting maid."

XXVIII

Then forth the n.o.ble Douglas sprung, And on his neck his daughter hung.