The Lady of the Lake Part 4

XXVIII

The wondering stranger round him gazed, 560 And next the fallen weapon raised-- Few were the arms whose sinewy strength, Sufficed to stretch it forth at length.

And as the brand he poised and swayed, "I never knew but one," he said, 565 "Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield A blade like this in battle-field."

She sighed, then smiled and took the word: "You see the guardian champion's sword; As light it trembles in his hand, 570 As in my grasp a hazel wand; My sire's tall form might grace the part Of Ferragus, or Ascabart; But in the absent giant's hold Are women now, and menials old." 575

XXIX

The mistress of the mansion came, Mature of age, a graceful dame; Whose easy step and stately port Had well become a princely court, To whom, though more than kindred knew, 580 Young Ellen gave a mother's due.

Meet welcome to her guest she made, And every courteous rite was paid, That hospitality could claim, Though all unasked his birth and name. 585 Such then the reverence to a guest, That fellest foe might join the feast, And from his deadliest foeman's door Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er.

At length his rank the stranger names, 590 "The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James; Lord of a barren heritage, Which his brave sires, from age to age, By their good swords had held with toil; His sire had fallen in such turmoil, 595 And he, G.o.d wot, was forced to stand Oft for his right with blade in hand.

This morning, with Lord Moray's train He chased a stalwart stag in vain, Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer, 600 Lost his good steed, and wandered here."

x.x.x

Fain would the Knight in turn require The name and state of Ellen's sire.

Well showed the elder lady's mien, That courts and cities she had seen; 605 Ellen, though more her looks displayed The simple grace of silvan maid, In speech and gesture, form and face, Showed she was come of gentle race.

'Twere strange in ruder rank to find 610 Such looks, such manners, and such mind.

Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, Dame Margaret heard with silence grave; Or Ellen, innocently gay, Turned all inquiry light away: 615 "Weird women we--by dale and down We dwell, afar from tower and town.

We stem the flood, we ride the blast, On wandering knights our spells we cast; While viewless minstrels touch the string, 620 'Tis thus our charmed rimes we sing."

She sung, and still a harp unseen Filled up the symphony between.

x.x.xI

SONG

"Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking; 625 Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking.

In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, 630 Every sense in slumber dewing.

Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 635

"No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Armor's clang, or war-steed champing, Trump nor pibroch summon here Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.

Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 640 At the day-break from the fallow, And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow.

Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here, 645 Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans or squadrons stamping."

x.x.xII

She paused--then, blushing, led the lay To grace the stranger of the day.

Her mellow notes awhile prolong 650 The cadence of the flowing song, Till to her lips in measured frame The minstrel verse spontaneous came.

SONG--(_Continued_)

"Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, While our slumbrous spells a.s.sail ye, 655 Dream not, with the rising sun, Bugles here shall sound reveille.

Sleep! the deer is in his den; Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying; Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen, 660 How thy gallant steed lay dying.

Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, Think not of the rising sun, For at dawning to a.s.sail ye, Here no bugles sound reveille." 665

x.x.xIII

The hall was cleared--the stranger's bed Was there of mountain heather spread, Where oft a hundred guests had lain, And dreamed their forest sports again.

But vainly did the heath-flower shed 670 Its moorland fragrance round his head; Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest The fever of his troubled breast.

In broken dreams the image rose Of varied perils, pains, and woes: 675 His steed now flounders in the brake, Now sinks his barge upon the lake; Now leader of a broken host, His standard falls, his honor's lost.

Then--from my couch may heavenly might 680 Chase that worst phantom of the night!

Again returned the scenes of youth, Of confident undoubting truth; Again his soul he interchanged With friends whose hearts were long estranged. 685 They come, in dim procession led, The cold, the faithless, and the dead; As warm each hand, each brow as gay, As if they parted yesterday.

And doubt distracts him at the view-- 690 O were his senses false or true?

Dreamed he of death, or broken vow, Or is it all a vision now?

x.x.xIV

At length, with Ellen in a grove He seemed to walk, and speak of love; 695 She listened with a blush and sigh, His suit was warm, his hopes were high.

He sought her yielded hand to clasp, And a cold gauntlet met his grasp; The phantom's s.e.x was changed and gone, 700 Upon its head a helmet shone; Slowly enlarged to giant size, With darkened cheek and threatening eyes, The grisly visage, stern and h.o.a.r, To Ellen still a likeness bore. 705 He woke, and, panting with affright, Recalled the vision of the night.

The hearth's decaying brands were red.

And deep and dusky l.u.s.ter shed, Half showing, half concealing, all 710 The uncouth trophies of the hall.

Mid those the stranger fixed his eye, Where that huge falchion hung on high, And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along. 715 Until, the giddy whirl to cure, He rose, and sought the moonshine pure.

x.x.xV

The wild-rose, eglantine, and broom, Wasted around their rich perfume: The birch-trees swept in fragrant balm, 720 The aspens slept beneath the calm; The silver light, with quivering glance, Played on the water's still expanse-- Wild were the heart whose pa.s.sion's sway Could rage beneath the sober ray! 725 He felt its calm, that warrior guest, While thus he communed with his breast: "Why is it, at each turn I trace Some memory of that exiled race?

Can I not mountain-maiden spy, 730 But she must bear the Douglas eye?

Can I not view a Highland brand, But it must match the Douglas hand?

Can I not frame a fevered dream, But still the Douglas is the theme? 735 I'll dream no more--by manly mind Not even in sleep is will resigned.

My midnight orisons said o'er, I'll turn to rest, and dream no more."

His midnight orisons he told, 740 A prayer with every bead of gold, Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, And sunk in undisturbed repose, Until the heath-c.o.c.k shrilly crew, And morning dawned on Benvenue. 745

CANTO SECOND

THE ISLAND

I

At morn the blackc.o.c.k trims his jetty wing, 'Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay, All Nature's children feel the matin spring Of life reviving, with reviving day; And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 5 Wafting the stranger on his way again, Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray, And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan-bane!

II

SONG

"Not faster yonder rowers' might 10 Flings from their oars the spray, Not faster yonder rippling bright, That tracks the shallop's course in light, Melts in the lake away, Than men from memory erase 15 The benefits of former days; Then, stranger, go! good speed the while, Nor think again of the lonely isle.