The Lady of the Lake Part 6

XV

"What think I of him?--woe the while That brought such wanderer to our isle!

Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 305 For Tine-man forged by fairy lore.

What time he leagued, no longer foes, His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow The footstep of a secret foe. 310 If courtly spy hath harbored here, What may we for the Douglas fear?

What for this island, deemed of old Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold?

If neither spy nor foe, I pray 315 What yet may jealous Roderick say?

--Nay, wave not thy disdainful head, Bethink thee of the discord dread, That kindled when at Beltane game Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme; 320 Still, though thy sire the peace renewed, Smolders in Roderick's breast the feud; Beware!--But hark, what sounds are these?

My dull ears catch no faltering breeze, No weeping birch, nor aspens wake, 325 Nor breath is dimpling in the lake, Still is the canna's h.o.a.ry beard, Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard-- And hark again! some pipe of war Sends the bold pibroch from afar." 330

XVI

Far up the lengthened lake were spied Four darkening specks upon the tide, That, slow enlarging on the view, Four manned and masted barges grew, And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, 335 Steered full upon the lonely isle; The point of Brianchoil they pa.s.sed, And, to the windward as they cast, Against the sun they gave to shine The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine. 340 Nearer and nearer as they bear, Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air.

Now might you see the tartans brave, And plaids and plumage dance and wave; Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 345 As his tough oar the rower plies; See, flashing at each st.u.r.dy stroke, The wave ascending into smoke; See the proud pipers on the bow, And mark the gaudy streamers flow 350 From their loud chanters down, and sweep The furrowed bosom of the deep, As, rushing through the lake amain, They plied the ancient Highland strain.

XVII

Ever, as on they bore, more loud 355 And louder rung the pibroch proud.

At first the sound, by distance tame, Mellowed along the waters came, And, lingering long by cape and bay, Wailed every harsher note away, 360 Then bursting bolder on the ear, The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear; Those thrilling sounds, that call the might Of Old Clan-Alpine to the fight.

Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 365 The mustering hundreds shake the glen, And hurrying at the signal dread, The battered earth returns their tread.

Then prelude light, of livelier tone, Expressed their merry marching on, 370 Ere peal of closing battle rose, With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows; And mimic din of stroke and ward, As broad sword upon target jarred; And groaning pause, ere yet again, 375 Condensed, the battle yelled amain; The rapid charge, the rallying shout, Retreat borne headlong into rout, And bursts of triumph, to declare Clan-Alpine's conquest--all were there. 380 Nor ended thus the strain; but slow Sunk in a moan prolonged and low, And changed the conquering clarion swell, For wild lament o'er those that fell.

XVIII

The war-pipes ceased; but lake and hill 385 Were busy with their echoes still; And, when they slept, a vocal strain Bade their hoa.r.s.e chorus wake again, While loud a hundred clansmen raise Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 390 Each boatman, bending to his oar, With measured sweep the burden bore, In such wild cadence, as the breeze Makes through December's leafless trees.

The chorus first could Allan know, 395 "Roderick Vich Alpine, ho! iro!"

And near, and nearer as they rowed, Distinct the martial ditty flowed.

XIX

BOAT SONG

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!

Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine! 400 Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line!

Heaven send it happy dew, Earth lend it sap anew, Gayly to borgeon, and broadly to grow, 405 While every Highland glen Sends our shout back again, "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; 410 When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain, The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade.

Moored in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest's shock, Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; 415 Menteith and Breadalbane, then, Echo his praise again, "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

XX

Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied; 420 Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side.

Widow and Saxon maid Long shall lament our raid, Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe; 425 Lennox and Leven-glen Shake when they hear again "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

Row, va.s.sals, row, for the pride of the highlands!

Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine! 430 O that the rose-bud that graces yon islands, Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine!

O that some seedling gem, Worthy such n.o.ble stem, Honored and blest in their shadow might grow; Loud should Clan-Alpine then Ring from her deepmost glen, "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

XXI

With all her joyful female band, Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 440 Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, And high their snowy arms they threw, As echoing back with shrill acclaim, And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name; While, prompt to please, with mother's art, 445 The darling pa.s.sion of his heart, The Dame called Ellen to the strand, To greet her kinsman ere he land: "Come, loiterer, come! a Douglas thou, And shun to wreathe a victor's brow?" 450 Reluctantly and slow, the maid The unwelcome summoning obeyed, And, when a distant bugle rung, In the mid-path aside she sprung: "List Allan-bane! From mainland cast 455 I hear my father's signal blast.

Be ours," she cried, "the skiff to guide, And waft him from the mountain side."

Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright, She darted to her shallop light, 460 And, eagerly while Roderick scanned, For her dear form, his mother's band, The islet far behind her lay, And she had landed in the bay.

XXII

Some feelings are to mortals given, 465 With less of earth in them than heaven: And if there be a human tear From pa.s.sion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 470 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head!

And as the Douglas to his breast His darling Ellen closely pressed, Such holy drops her tresses steeped, 475 Though 'twas an hero's eye that weeped.

Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue Her filial welcomes crowded hung, Marked she, that fear, affection's proof, Still held a graceful youth aloof; 480 No! not till Douglas named his name, Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme.

XXIII

Allan, with wistful look the while, Marked Roderick landing on the isle; His master piteously he eyed. 485 Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride, Then dashed, with hasty hand, away From his dimmed eye the gathering spray; And Douglas, as his hand he laid On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said, 490 "Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy In my poor follower's glistening eye?

I'll tell thee: he recalls the day, When in my praise he led the lay O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, 495 While many a minstrel answered loud, When Percy's Norman pennon, won In b.l.o.o.d.y field, before me shone, And twice ten knights, the least a name As mighty as yon Chief may claim, 500 Gracing my pomp, behind me came.

Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud Was I of all that marshaled crowd, Though the waned crescent owned my might, And in my train trooped lord and knight, 505 Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays, And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise, As when this old man's silent tear, And this poor maid's affection dear, A welcome give more kind and true, 510 Than aught my better fortunes knew.

Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, Oh! it out-beggars all I lost!"

XXIV

Delightful praise!--like summer rose, That brighter in the dew-drop glows, 515 The bashful maiden's cheek appeared, For Douglas spoke and Malcolm heard.

The flush of shame-faced joy to hide, The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide; The loved caresses of the maid 520 The dogs with crouch and whimper paid; And, at her whistle, on her hand The falcon took his favorite stand, Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye, Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 525 And, trust, while in such guise she stood, Like fabled G.o.ddess of the wood, That if a father's partial thought O'erweighed her worth, and beauty aught, Well might the lover's judgment fail 530 To balance with a juster scale; For with each secret glance he stole, The fond enthusiast sent his soul.

XXV

Of stature tall, and slender frame, But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. 535 The belted plaid and tartan hose Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose; His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, Curled closely round his bonnet blue.

Trained to the chase, his eagle eye 540 The ptarmigan in snow could spy; Each pa.s.s, by mountain, lake, and heath, He knew, through Lennox and Menteith; Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe, When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, 545 And scarce that doe, though winged with fear, Outstripped in speed the mountaineer; Right up Ben-Lomond could he press, And not a sob his toil confess.

His form accorded with a mind 550 Lively and ardent, frank and kind; A blither heart, till Ellen came, Did never love nor sorrow tame; It danced as lightsome in his breast, As played the feather on his crest. 555 Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth, His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, And bards, who saw his features bold, When kindled by the tales of old, Said, were that youth to manhood grown, 560 Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme.

XXVI

Now back they wend their watery way, And, "O my sire!" did Ellen say, 565 "Why urge thy chase so far astray?

And why so late returned? And why"-- The rest was in her speaking eye.

"My child, the chase I follow far, 'Tis mimicry of n.o.ble war; 570 And with that gallant pastime reft Were all of Douglas I have left.

I met young Malcolm as I strayed Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade, Nor strayed I safe; for all around, 575 Hunters and hors.e.m.e.n scoured the ground.

This youth, though still a royal ward, Risked life and land to be my guard, And through the pa.s.ses of the wood Guided my steps, not unpursued; 580 And Roderick shall his welcome make, Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake.

Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen, Nor peril aught for me again."

XXVII