PREFACE. "THE LADY OF THE LAKE" needs no introduction. It is probably the best known romantic poem in the English language. But there is one story which ought always to be told when this poem is spoken of. An early copy of "The Lady of the Lake," which was first published in May, 1810, reached the Peninsula when the British forces were fronting the French. The lucky officer into whose hands the book fell declared informally a truce, not of God, but of poetry; then gathering his men around him, he read the spiritstirring story of the Battle of Beal an Duine. The picture of these toilworn veterans in their ragged uniforms, sitting silent under the Spanish sky, and forgetting the very existence of their French foemen in the rapture of this imaginary strife, is one of the prettiest glimpses of human nature that are to be found the glorious but gory annals of the Peninsula War. The Lady of the Lake," which is now placed within the reach of every boy or with a penny to spare, was originally published at two guineas. At this high ce 2,000 copies were immediately disposed of. 20,000 copies of the next four tions went off in a year. A quarter of a century passed before 50,000 copies re disposed of. That is to say, in the lifetime of Scott fewer copies of this poem ere circulated than will be sold this week in Great Britain. Apart from its poetic and romantic interest, the "Lady of the Lake" is notable as having made the reputation of Scottish scenery, and incidentally the fortunes of many Scottish innkeepers. To this day it is this poem which brings tourists by the thousand every year to the Trossachs. The effect of the "Lady of the Lake" was instantaneous. Mr. R. Cadell says: "I do not recollect that any of all the author's works was ever looked for with more intense anxiety, or that any one of them excited a more extraordinary sensation when they did appear. The whole country rang with the praises of the poet; crowds set off to view the scenery of Loch Katrine, till then comparatively unknown; and as the book came out just before the season for excursions, every house and inn in that neighbourhood was crammed with a constant succession of visitors. It is a well ascertained fact that from the date of the publication of the 'Lady of the Lake' the post-horse duty in Scotland rose in an extraordinary degree, from which it may be perceived that sometimes poetry has a solid value even from the point of view of the publican and tax-gatherer." This, however, was the least of all the achievements of the "Lady of the Lake." 'The story has brightened the homes of thousands, and irradiated many a sombre and clouded existence with the glowing glory of chivalrous romance. That it may be equally blessed to millions it is now issued at a penny. REGIA XX.-THE LADY OF THE LAKE. ARGUMENT. The scene of the following Poem is laid chiefly in the vicinity of Loch-Katrine, in the Western Highlands of Perthshire. The time of action includes six days, and the transactions of each day occupy a Canto. '"Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, Yell'd on the view the opening pack; Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back; To many a mingled sound at once IV. Less loud the sounds of silvan war Disturb'd the heights of Uam-Var, And roused the cavern, where, 'tis told, A giant made his den of old; For ere that steep ascent was won, High in his pathway hung the sun, And many a gallant, stay'd perforce, Was fain to breathe his faltering horse, And of the trackers of the deer, Scarce half the lessening pack was near; So shrewdly on the mountain side Had the bold burst their mettle tried V. The noble stag was pausing now, But nearer was the copsewood grey, Fresh vigour with the hope return'd, With flying foot the heath he spurn'd, Held westward with unwearied race, And left behind the panting chase. As swept the hunt through Cambus To join some comrades of the day; Yet often paused, so strange the road, So wondrous were the scenes it show'd ΧΙ. The western waves of ebbing day sheen, The brier-rose fell in streamers green, And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. 1 The Tower of Babel. Genesis xi. 1-9. |