The Lady of the Lake Part 8

CANTO THIRD

THE GATHERING

I

Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore, Who danced our infancy upon their knee, And told our marveling boyhood legends store Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea, How are they blotted from the things that be! 5 How few, all weak and withered of their force, Wait on the verge of dark eternity, Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoa.r.s.e, To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless course.

Yet live there still who can remember well, 10 How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell, And solitary heath, the signal knew; And fast the faithful clan around him drew, What time the warning note was keenly wound, 15 What time aloft their kindred banner flew, While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound, And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round.

II

The summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Loch Katrine blue; 20 Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled but dimpled not for joy; The mountain-shadows on her breast 25 Were neither broken nor at rest; In bright uncertainty they lie, Like future joys to Fancy's eye.

The water-lily to the light Her chalice reared of silver bright; 30 The doe awoke, and to the lawn, Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn; The gray mist left the mountain side, The torrent showed its glistening pride; Invisible in flecked sky, 35 The lark sent down her revelry; The blackbird and the speckled thrush, Good-morrow gave from brake and bush; In answer cooed the cushat dove Her notes of peace, and rest, and love. 40

III

No thought of peace, no thought of rest, a.s.suaged the storm in Roderick's breast.

With sheathed broadsword in his hand, Abrupt he paced the islet strand, And eyed the rising sun, and laid 45 His hand on his impatient blade.

Beneath a rock, his va.s.sals' care Was prompt the ritual to prepare, With deep and deathful meaning fraught; For such Antiquity had taught 50 Was preface meet, ere yet abroad The Cross of Fire should take its road.

The shrinking band stood oft aghast At the impatient glance he cast-- Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 55 As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, She spread her dark sails on the wind, And, high in middle heaven reclined, With her broad shadow on the lake, Silenced the warblers of the brake. 60

IV

A heap of withered boughs was piled, Of juniper and rowan wild, Mingled with shivers from the oak, Rent by the lightning's recent stroke.

Brian, the Hermit, by it stood, 65 Barefooted, in his frock and hood.

His grizzled beard and matted hair Obscured a visage of despair; His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er, The scars of frantic penance bore. 70 That monk, of savage form and face, The impending danger of his race Had drawn from deepest solitude, Far in Benharrow's bosom rude.

Not his the mien of Christian priest, 75 But Druid's, from the grave released, Whose hardened heart and eye might brook On human sacrifice to look; And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er. 80 The hallowed creed gave only worse And deadlier emphasis of curse; No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer, His cave the pilgrim shunned with care, The eager huntsman knew his bound, 85 And in mid chase called off his hound; Or if, in lonely glen or strath, The desert-dweller met his path, He prayed, and signed the cross between, While terror took devotion's mien. 90

V

Of Brian's birth strange tales were told.

His mother watched a midnight fold, Built deep within a dreary glen, Where scattered lay the bones of men In some forgotten battle slain, 95 And bleached by drifting wind and rain.

It might have tamed a warrior's heart, To view such mockery of his art!

The knot-gra.s.s fettered there the hand Which once could burst an iron band; 100 Beneath the broad and ample bone, That bucklered heart to fear unknown, A feeble and a timorous guest, The fieldfare framed her lowly nest; There the slow blindworm left his slime 105 On the fleet limbs that mocked at time; And there, too, lay the leader's skull, Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full, For heath-bell with her purple bloom Supplied the bonnet and the plume. 110 All night, in this sad glen, the maid Sat, shrouded in her mantle's shade: She said no shepherd sought her side, No hunter's hand her snood untied; Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 115 The virgin snood did Alice wear; Gone was her maiden glee and sport, Her maiden girdle all too short, Nor sought she, from that fatal night, Or holy church or blessed rite, 120 But locked her secret in her breast, And died in travail, unconfessed.

VI

Alone, among his young compeers, Was Brian from his infant years; A moody and heartbroken boy, 125 Estranged from sympathy and joy, Bearing each taunt with careless tongue On his mysterious lineage flung.

Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, To wood and stream his hap to wail, 130 Till, frantic, he as truth received What of his birth the crowd believed, And sought, in mist and meteor fire, To meet and know his Phantom Sire!

In vain, to soothe his wayward fate, 135 The cloister oped her pitying gate; In vain, the learning of the age Unclasped the sable-lettered page; Even in its treasures he could find Food for the fever of his mind. 140 Eager he read whatever tells Of magic, cabala, and spells, And every dark pursuit allied To curious and presumptuous pride; Till with fired brain and nerves o'erstrung, 145 And heart with mystic horrors wrung, Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, And hid him from the haunts of men.

VII

The desert gave him visions wild, Such as might suit the specter's child. 150 Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, He watched the wheeling eddies boil, Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes Beheld the River Demon rise; The mountain mist took form and limb, 155 Of noontide hag, or goblin grim; The midnight wind came wild and dread, Swelled with the voices of the dead; Far on the future battle-heath His eyes beheld the ranks of death. 160 Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled, Shaped forth a disembodied world.

One lingering sympathy of mind Still bound him to the mortal kind; The only parent he could claim 165 Of ancient Alpine lineage came.

Late had he heard, in prophet's dream, The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream; Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast, Of charging steeds, careering fast 170 Along Benharrow's shingly side, Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride; The thunderbolt had split the pine-- All augured ill to Alpine's line.

He girt his loins, and came to show 175 The signals of impending woe, And now stood prompt to bless or ban, As bade the Chieftain of his clan.

VIII

'Twas all prepared--and from the rock, A goat, the patriarch of the flock, 180 Before the kindling pile was laid, And pierced by Roderick's ready blade.

Patient the sickening victim eyed The life-blood ebb in crimson tide, Down his clogged beard and s.h.a.ggy limb, 185 Till darkness glazed his eyeb.a.l.l.s dim.

The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, A slender crosslet formed with care, A cubit's length in measure due; The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, 190 Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave, And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep.

The Cross, thus formed, he held on high, 195 With wasted hand and haggard eye, And strange and mingled feelings woke; While his anathema he spoke.

IX

"Woe to the clansman, who shall view This symbol of sepulchral yew, 200 Forgetful that its branches grew Where weep the heavens their holiest dew On Alpine's dwelling low!

Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, He ne'er shall mingle with their dust, 205 But, from his sires and kindred thrust, Each clansman's execration just Shall doom him wrath and woe."

He paused--the word the va.s.sals took, With forward step and fiery look, 210 On high their naked brands they shook, Their clattering targets wildly strook; And first in murmur low, Then, like the billow in his course, That far to seaward finds his source, 215 And flings to sh.o.r.e his mustered force, Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoa.r.s.e, "Woe to the traitor, woe!"

Ben-an's grey scalp the accents knew, The joyous wolf from cover drew, 220 The exulting eagle screamed afar-- They knew the voice of Alpine's war.

X

The shout was hushed on lake and fell, The Monk resumed his muttered spell; Dismal and low its accents came, 225 The while he scathed the Cross with flame: And the few words that reached the air, Although the holiest name was there, Had more of blasphemy than prayer.

But when he shook above the crowd 230 Its kindled points, he spoke aloud: "Woe to the wretch, who fails to rear At this dread sign the ready spear!

For, as the flames this symbol sear, His home, the refuge of his fear, 235 A kindred fate shall know; Far o'er its roof the volumed flame Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, While maids and matrons on his name Shall call down wretchedness and shame, 240 And infamy and woe."

Then rose the cry of females, shrill As goshawk's whistle on the hill, Denouncing misery and ill, Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 245 Of curses stammered slow; Answering, with imprecation dread, "Sunk be his home in embers red!

And cursed be the meanest shed That e'er shall hide the houseless head 250 We doom to want and woe!"

A sharp and shrieking echo gave, Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave!

And the gray pa.s.s where birches wave, On Beala-nam-bo. 255

XI

Then deeper paused the priest anew, And hard his laboring breath he drew, While, with set teeth and clenched hand, And eyes that glowed like fiery brand, He meditated curse more dread, 260 And deadlier, on the clansman's head, Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid, The signal saw and disobeyed.

The crosslet's points of sparkling wood He quenched among the bubbling blood, 265 And, as again the sign he reared, Hollow and hoa.r.s.e his voice was heard: "When flits this Cross from man to man, Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan, Burst be the ear that fails to heed! 270 Palsied the foot that shuns to speed!

May ravens tear the careless eyes, Wolves make the coward heart their prize!

As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, So may his heart's blood drench his hearth! 275 As dies in hissing gore the spark, Quench thou his light, Destruction dark!

And be the grace to him denied, Bought by this sign to all beside!"

He ceased; no echo gave again 280 The murmur of the deep Amen.

XII

Then Roderick, with impatient look, From Brian's hand the symbol took: "Speed, Malise, speed!" he said, and gave The crosslet to his henchman brave. 285 "The muster-place be Lanrick mead-- Instant the time--speed, Malise, speed!"

Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, A barge across Loch Katrine flew; High stood the henchman on the prow, 290 So rapidly the barge-men row, The bubbles, where they launched the boat, Were all unbroken and afloat, Dancing in foam and ripple still, When it had neared the mainland hill; 295 And from the silver beach's side Still was the prow three fathom wide, When lightly bounded to the land The messenger of blood and brand.