The furrow'd bosom of the deep,
As, rushing through the lake amain,
They plied the ancient Highland
strain.

XVII.

Ever, as on they bore, more loud
And louder rung the pibroch proud.
At first the sound, by distance tame,
Mellow'd along the waters came,
And, lingering long by cape and bay,
Wail'd every harsher note away;
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
The mustering hundreds shake the
glen,

And, hurrying at the signal dread,
The batter'd earth returns their tread.
Then prelude light, of livelier tone,
Express'd their merry marching on,
Ere peal of closing battle rose,
With mingled outcry, shrieks, and
blows;

And mimic din of stroke and ward,
As broadsword upon target jarr'd;
And groaning pause, ere yet again,
Condensed, the battle yell'd 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.
Nor ended thus the strain; but slow,
Sunk in a moan prolong'd 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

Were busy with their echoes still; And, when they slept, a vocal strain Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, While loud a hundred clansmen raise Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. Each boatman, bending to his oar, With measured sweep the burden bore,

1 The connoisseurs in pipe-music affect to discover in a well-composed pibroch, the imitative sounds of march, conflict, flight, pursuit, and all the current of a heady fight."

In such wild cadence, as the breeze Makes through December's leafless

trees.

The chorus first could Allan know, "Roderick Vich Alpine, ho! iro!" And near, and nearer as they row'd, Distinct the martial ditty flow'd.

Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe;

Lennox and Leven-glen Shake when they hear agen, "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands !

Stretch to your oars, for the evergreen Pine!

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 noble stem, Honour'd and bless'd in their shadow might grow!

Loud should Clan-Alpine then Ring from the deepmost glen, "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, oh! ieroe!"

Reluctantly and slow, the maid The unwelcome summoning obey'd, And, when a distant bugle rung, In the mid-path aside she sprung:"List, Allan - bane! From mainland cast,

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,
And, eagerly while Roderick scann'd,
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, With less of earth in them than heaven:

And if there be a human tear
From passion's dross refined and clear,
A tear so limpid and so meek,
It would not stain an angel's cheek,
'Tis that which pious fathers shed
Upon a duteous daughter's head!
And as the Douglas to his breast
His darling Ellen closely press'd,
Such holy drops her tresses steep'd,
Though 'twas
an hero's eye
that

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

As mighty as yon Chief may claim, Gracing my pomp, behind me came. Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud Was I of all that marshall'd crowd, Though the waned crescent own'd my might,

And in my train troop'd lord and knight,

Though Blantyre hymn'd her holiest lays,

And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise,

Delightful praise!-Like summer rose,
That brighter in the dew-drop glows,
The bashful maiden's cheek appear'd,
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
The dogs with crouch and whimper paid,
And, at her whistle, on her hand
The falcon took her favourite stand,
Closed his dark wing, relax'd his eye,
Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly.
And, trust, while in such guise she stood,
Like fabled Goddess of the wood,
That if a father's partial thought
O'erweigh'd her worth and beauty aught,
Well might the lover's judgment fail
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 Græme.
The belted plaid and tartan hose
Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose;
His flaxen hair of sunny hue,
Curl'd closely round his bonnet blue.
Train'd to the chase, his eagle eye
The ptarmigan in snow could spy:
Each path 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,
And scarce that doe, though winged

with fear,

Outstripp'd in speed the mountaineer:
Right up Ben-Lomond could he press,
And not a sob his toil confess.
His form accorded with a mind
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 play'd the feather on his crest.
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,
Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown
Be foremost voiced by mountain fame.
But quail to that of Malcolm Græme.

66

66

XXVI.

Now back they wend their watery way.
And, O my sire!" did Ellen say,
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 noble war;
And with that gallant pastime reft
Were all of Douglas I have left.
I met young Malcolm as I stray'd,
Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade,
Nor stray'd I safe; for, all around,
Hunters and horsemen scour'd the
ground.

This youth, though still a royal ward,
Risk'd life and land to be my guard,
And through the passes of the wood,
Guided my steps, not unpursued;
And Roderick shall his welcome make,
Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake.
Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen,
Nor peril aught for me agen."

XXVII.

Sir Roderick, who to meet them came,
Redden'd at sight of Malcolm Græme,
Yet, not in action, word, or eye,
Fail'd aught in hospitality.
In talk and sport they whiled away
The morning of that summer day;
But at high noon a courier light
Held secret parley with the knight,
Whose moody aspect soon declared,
That evil were the news he heard.
Deep thought seem'd toiling in his head;
Yet was the evening banquet made,
Ere he assembled round the flame,
His mother, Douglas, and the Græme,
And Ellen, too; then cast around
His eyes, then fix'd them on the ground,
As studying phrase that might avail
Best to convey unpleasant tale.
Long with his dagger's hilt he play'd,
Then raised his haughty brow, and
said:-

XXVIII.

"Short be my speech ;-nor time affords,
Nor my plain temper, glozing words.
Kinsman and father, if such name
Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim;
Mine honour'd mother;-Ellen-why,
My cousin, turn away thine eye?-
And Græme; in whom I hope to know
Full soon a noble friend or foe,
When age shall give thee thy command,
And leading in thy native land,-
List all-the King's vindictive pride
Boasts to have tamed the Border-side.
Where chiefs, with hound and hawk
who came

To share their monarch's silvan game,
Themselves in bloody toils were snared;
And when the banquet they prepared,
And wide their loyal portals flung,
O'er their own gateway struggling hung.
Loud cries their blood from Meggat's
mead,

From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed,
Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide,
And from the silver Teviot's side;
The dales, where martial clans did ride,
Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide.
This tyrant of the Scottish throne,
So faithless and so ruthless known,
Now hither comes; his end the same,
The same pretext of silvan game.
What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge

To draw the lightning on thy bower;
For well thou know'st, at this grey head
The royal bolt were fiercest sped.
For thee, who, at thy King's command,
Canst aid him with a gallant band,
Submission, homage, humbled pride,
Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside.
Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart,
Ellen and I will seek, apart,
The refuge of some forest cell,
There, like the hunted quarry, dwell,
Till on the mountain and the moor,
The stern pursuit be pass'd and o'er."

XXX.

No, by mine honour," Roderick said, "So help me, heaven, and my good blade!

No, never! Blasted be yon Pine,
My fathers' ancient crest and mine,
If from its shade in danger part
The lineage of the Bleeding Heart!
Hear my blunt speech: Grant me this
maid

To wife, thy counsel to mine aid;
To Douglas, leagued with Roderick
Dhu,

Will friends and allies flock enow; Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief,

Will bind to us each Western Chief. When the loud pipes my bridal tell, The Links of Forth shall hear the knell,

The guards shall start in Stirling's porch;

And, when I light the nuptial torch, A thousand villages in flames

Shall scare the slumbers of King

And, on the verge that beetled o'er
The ocean-tide's incessant roar,
Dream'd calmly out their dangerous
dream,

Till waken'd by the morning beam;
When, dazzled by the eastern glow,
Such startler cast his glance below,
And saw unmeasured depth around,
And heard unintermitted sound,
And thought the battled fence so frail,
It waved like cobweb in the gale;-
Amid his senses' giddy wheel,
Did he not desperate impulse feel,
Headlong to plunge himself below,
And meet the worst his fears fore-
show:-

Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound,
As sudden ruin yawn'd around,
By crossing terrors wildly toss'd,"
Still for the Douglas fearing most,
Could scarce
the desperate thought

withstand,
To buy his safety with her hand.

For to her cheek, in feverish flood, One instant rush'd the throbbing blood, Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, Left its domain as wan as clay.

Roderick, enough! enough!" he cried, My daughter cannot be thy bride; Not that the blush to wooer dear, Nor paleness that of maiden fear. It may not be-forgive her, Chief, Nor hazard aught for our relief. Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er Will level a rebellious spear. 'Twas I that taught his youthful hand To ein a steed and wield a brand; I see him yet, the princely boy! Not Ellen more my pride and joy; I love him still, despite my wrongs, By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues. O seek the grace you well may find, Without a cause to mine combined." XXXIII.

The waving of his tartans broad,
And darken'd brow, where wounded
pride

With ire and disappointment vied,
Seem'd, by the torch's gloomy light,
Like the ill Demon of the night,
Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway
Upon the nighted pilgrim's way:
But, unrequited Love! thy dart
Plunged deepest its envenom'd smart,
And Roderick, with thine anguish
stung,

At length the hand of Douglas wrung,
While eyes, that mock'd at tears before,
With bitter drops were running o'er.
The death-pangs of long-cherish'd hope
Scarce in that ample breast had scope,
But, struggling with his spirit proud,
Convulsive heaved its chequer'd shroud,
While every sob-so mute were all-
Was heard distinctly through the hall.
The son's despair, the mother's look,
Ill might the gentle Ellen brook:
She rose, and to her side there came,
To aid her parting steps, the Græme.

So the deep anguish of despair
To one broad blaze of ruddy glow,
Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air.
With stalwart grasp his hand he laid
On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid:
Back, beardless boy!" he sternly said,
Back, minion! hold'st thou thus at
naught

The lesson I so lately taught?
This roof, the Douglas, and that maid,
Thank thou for punishment delay'd."
Eager as greyhound on his game,
Fiercely with Roderick grappled

Græme.

"Perish my name, if aught afford Its Chieftain safety save his sword!" Thus as they strove, their desperate hand

Griped to the dagger or the brand, And death had been-but Douglas rose, And thrust between the struggling foes giant strength:- "Chieftains, forego!