Of war, of battle to be fought,
Of guarded pass?" 'No, by my faith!
Nor saw I aught could augur scathe."-
"O haste thee, Allan, to the kern,
-Yonder his tartans I discern;
Learn thou his purpose, and conjure
That he will guide the stranger sure!
What prompted thee, unhappy man?
The meanest serf in Roderick's clan
Had not been bribed by love or fear,
Unknown to him to guide thee here.".
Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be,
Since it is worthy care from thee;
Yet life I hold but idle breath,
When love or honour's weighed with
death.
Then let me profit by my chance,
And speak my purpose bold at once.
I come to bear thee from a wild,
Where ne'er before such blossom
smiled:
By this soft hand to lead thee far
From frantic scenes of feud and war.
Near Bochastle my horses wait;
'hey bear us soon to Stirling gate. I'll place thee in a lovely bower, I'll guard thee like a tender flower O! hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art,
o say I do not read thy heart; Too much, before, my selfish ear Was idly soothed my praise to hear. That fatal bait hath lured thee back, In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track; And how, O how, can I atone
The wreck my vanity brought on!-
One way remains-I'll tell him all-
Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall!
Thou, whose light folly bears the
blame,
Buy thine own pardon with thy shame!
But first-my father is a man
Outlaw'd and exiled, under ban;
The price of blood is on his head,
With me 'twere infamy to wed.-
Still wouldst thou speak?-then hear the truth!
Fitz-James, there is a noble youth,-
If yet he is exposed for me
And mine to dread extremity-
Thou hast the secret of my heart;
Forgive, be generous, and depart!"
Fitz-James knew every wily train
A lady's fickle heart to gain;
But here he knew and felt them vain.
There shot no glance from Ellen's eye,
To give her steadfast speech the lie;
In maiden confidence she stood,
Though mantled in her cheek the blood,
And told her love with such a sigh
Of deep and hopeless agony,
As death had seal'd her Malcolm's doom,
And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. Hope vanish'd from Fitz-James's eye, But not with hope fled sympathy. He proffer'd to attend her side, As brother would a sister guide."O little know'st thou Roderick's heart!
Safer for both we go apart.
O haste thee, and from Allan learn,
If thou may'st trust yon wily kern."
With hand upon his forehead laid,
The conflict of his mind to shade,
A parting step or two he made;
Then, as some thought had cross'd his
brain,
He paused, and turn'd, and came again.
Hear, lady, yet, a parting word!It chanced in fight that my poor sword Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. This ring the grateful Monarch gave, And bade, when I had boon to crave, To bring it back, and boldly claim The recompense that I would name. Ellen, I am no courtly lord, But one who lives by lance and sword, Whose castle is his helm and shield, His lordship the embattled field. What from a prince can I demand, Who neither reck of state nor land? Ellen, thy hand-the ring is thine; Each guard and usher knows the sign. Seek thou the king without delay; This signet shall secure thy way;
Now wound the path its dizzy ledge
Around a precipice's edge,
When lo! a wasted female form,
Blighted by wrath of sun and storm,
In tatter'd weeds and wild array,
Stood on a cliff beside the way,
And glancing round her restless eye,
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,
Seem'd nought to mark, yet all to spy.
Her brow was wreath'd with gaudy
broom;
With gesture wild she waved a plume
Of feathers, which the eagles fling
To crag and cliff from dusky wing;
Such spoils her desperate step had
sought,
Where scarce was footing for the goat.
The tartan plaid she first descried,
And shriek'd till all the rocks replied;
As loud she laugh'd when near they
drew
For then the Lowland garb she knew; And then her hands she wildly wrung, And then she wept, and then she sungShe sung-the voice, in better time, Perchance to harp or lute might chime; And now, though strain'd and roughen'd, still
Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill.
They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, They say my brain is warp'd and
I cannot sleep on Highland brae,
I cannot pray in Highland tongue. Or heard my native Devan's tides, But were I now where Allan' glides, So sweetly would I rest, and pray That Heaven would close my wintry day!
'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid,
They made me to the church repair; It was my bridal morn they said,
And my true love would meet me there.
But woe betide the cruel guile,
That drown'd in blood the morning
smile!
And woe betide the fairy dream!
I only waked to sob and scream.
Who is this maid? what means her lay?
She hovers o'er the hollow way, And flutters wide her mantle grey, As the lone heron spreads his wing, By twilight, o'er a haunted spring.". ""Tis Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said,
"A crazed and captive Lowland maid, Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, When Roderick foray'd Devan-side. The gay bridegroom resistance made, And felt our Chief's unconquer'd blade. I marvel she is now at large,
The Allan and Devan are two beautiful Burns, which descend from the hills of Perthshire streaus, the latter celebrated in the poetry of into the great carse or plain of Stirling
Fitz-James's mind was passion-toss'd,
When Ellen's hints and fears were lost;
But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought,
And Blanche's song conviction brought.-
Not like a stag that spies the snare,
But lion of the hunt aware,
He waved at once his blade on high,
"Disclose thy treachery, or die!"
Forth at full speed the Clansman flew,
But in his race his bow he drew.
The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest
And thrill'd in Blanche's faded breast,-
Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed,
For ne'er had Alpine's son such need!
With heart of fire, and foot of wind,
The fierce avenger is behind!
Fate judges of the rapid strife-
The forfeit death-the prize is life!
Thy kindred ambush lies before,
Close couch'd upon the heathery moor;
Them couldst thou reach !-it may not
Thine ambush'd kin thou ne'er shalt see, The fiery Saxon gains on thee!
Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, As lightning strikes the pine to dust; With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain,
Ere he can win his blade again. Bent o'er the fall'n, with falcon eye, He grimly smiled to see him die; Then slower wended back his way, Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.
She sate beneath the birchen-tree, Her elbow resting on her knee;
1 Having ten branches on his antlers.
She had withdrawn the fatal shaft,
And gazed on it, and feebly laugh'd;
Her wreath of broom and feathers grey,
Daggled with blood, beside her lay..
The Knight to stanch the life-stream
tried,-
"Stranger, it is in vain!" she cried.
"This hour of death has given me more
Of reason's power than years before;
For, as these ebbing veins decay,
My frenzied visions fade away.
A helpless injured wretch I die,
And something tells me in thine eye,
That thou wert mine avenger born.-
Seest thou this tress?-O! still I've
This little tress of yellow hair, Through danger, frenzy, and despair! It once was bright and clear as thine, But blood and tears have dimm'd its shine.
I will not tell thee when 'twas shred, Nor from what guiltless victim's headMy brain would turn-but it shall
Like plumage on thy helmet brave, Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,
And thou wilt bring it me again.-
I waver still.—O God! more bright
Let reason beam her parting light!
O! by thy knighthood's honour'd sign,
And for thy life preserved by mine,
When thou shalt see a darksome man,
Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan,
With tartan's broad and shadowy plume,
And hand of blood, and brow of gloom,
Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong,
And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's
wrong!
They watch for thee by pass and fell
Avoid the path ... O God . . . farewell."
No other favour will I wear,
Till this sad token I imbrue
In the best blood of Roderick Dhu!
-But hark! what means yon faint
halloo ?
The chase is up, but they shall know,
The stag at bay 's a dangerous foe."
Barr'd from the known but guarded
way,
Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray,
And oft must change his desperate track.
By stream and precipice turn'd back.
Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,
From lack of food and loss of strength
He couch'd him in a thicket hoar,
And thought his toils and perils o'er :-
"Of all my rash adventures past,
This frantic feat must prove the last!
Who e'er so mad but might have
guess'd,
That all this Highland hornet's nest
Would muster up in swarms so soon
As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ?-
Like bloodhounds now they search me
out,-
Hark, to the whistle and the shout!-
If farther through the wilds I go,
I only fall upon the foe:
I'll couch me here till evening grey,
Then darkling try my dangerous way."
The shades of eve come slowly down,
The woods are wrapt in deeper brown,
The owl awakens from her dell,
The fox is heard upon the fell;
Enough remains of glimmering light
To guide the wanderer's steps aright.
Yet not enough from far to show
His figure to the watchful foe.
With cautious step, and ear awake,
He climbs the crag and threads the
brake;
And not the summer solstice, there,
Temper'd the midnight mountain air,
But every breeze, that swept the wold,
Benumb'd his drenched limbs with cold.
In dread, in danger and alone,
Famish'd and chill'd, through ways
unknown,
Tangled and steep, he journey'd on; Till, as a rock's huge point he turn'd. A watch-fire close before him burn'd.
Thou art with numbers overborne ;
It rests with me, here, brand to brand,
Worn as thou art to bid thee stand:
But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause,
Will I depart from honour's laws;
To assail a wearied man were shame,
And stranger is a holy name;
Guidance and rest, and food and fire,
In vain he never must require.
Then rest thee here till dawn of day;
Myself will guide thee on the way,
O'er stock and stone, through watch
and ward,
Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,
As far as Coilantogle's ford;
From thence thy warrant is thy sword."
"I take thy courtesy, by heaven,
As freely as 'tis nobly given!".
"Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry
Sings us the lake's wild lullaby."
With that he shook the gather'd heath,
And spread his plaid upon the wreath;
And the brave foemen, side by side,
Lay peaceful down, like brothers tried,
And slept until the dawning beam
Purpled the mountain and the stream.
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