THE

LADY OF THE LAKE.

CANTO FOURTH.

THE PROPHECY.

I.

"THE rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,

And hope is brightest when it dawns from

fears; 1

The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears. O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears,

I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, Emblem of hope and love through future years!" Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad

wave.

II.

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung,

Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue.

1 [MS." And rapture dearest when obscured by fears."]

And while he stripp'd the wild-rose spray,
His axe and bow beside him lay,
For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood,
A wakeful sentinel he stood.

Hark! on the rock a footstep rung,
And instant to his arms he sprung.

66 Stand, or thou diest!-What, Malise?-soon
Art thou return'd from Braes of Doune.
By thy keen step and glance I know,
Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe."-

(For while the Fiery Cross hied on,
On distant scout had Malise gone.)

66

"Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchman said.

Apart in yonder misty glade;

To his lone couch I'll be your guide.”-
Then call'd a slumberer by his side,
And stirr'd him with his slacken'd bow-
"Up, up, Glentarkin! rouse thee, ho!
We seek the Chieftain; on the track,
Keep eagle watch till I come back."

III.

Together up the pass they sped:

"What of the foemen?" Norman said.

66

Varying reports from near and far;

This certain,—that a band of war

Has for two days been ready boune,
At prompt command, to march from Doune;
King James, the while, with princely powers,

Holds revelry in Stirling towers.

Soon will this dark and gathering cloud
Speak on our glens in thunder loud.
Inured to bide such bitter bout,
The warrior's plaid may bear it out;
But, Norman, how wilt thou provide
A shelter for thy bonny bride?"—
"What! know ye not that Roderick's care
To the lone isle hath caused repair
Each maid and matron of the clan,
And every child and aged man
Unfit for arms; and given his charge,
Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge,
Upon these lakes shall float at large,
But all beside the islet moor,

That such dear pledge may rest secure?

IV.

""Tis well advised-the Chieftain's plan Bespeaks the father of his clan.

But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu
Apart from all his followers true?"-
"It is, because last evening-tide
Brian an augury hath tried,

Of that dread kind which must not be
Unless in dread extremity,

The Taghairm call'd; by which afar,

1 [MS.-"'Tis well advised-a prudent plan, Worthy the father of his clan."]

1

Our sires foresaw the events of war.1

Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew."

MALISE.

"Ah! well the gallant brute I knew!
The choicest of the prey we had,
When swept our merry-men Gallangad.2

1 [See Appendix, Note I.]

2 I know not if it be worth observing, that this passage is taken almost literally from the mouth of an old Highland Kern, or Ketteran, as they were called. He used to narrate the merry doings of the good old time when he was follower of Rob Roy MacGregor. This leader, on one occasion, thought proper to make a descent upon the lower part of the Loch Lomond district, and summoned all the heritors and farmers to meet at the Kirk of Drymen, to pay him blackmail, i. e. tribute for forbearance and protection. As this invitation was supported by a band of thirty or forty stout fellows, only one gentleman, an ancestor, if I mistake not, of the present Mr. Grahame of Gartmore, ventured to decline compliance. Rob Roy instantly swept his land of all he could drive away, and among the spoil was a bull of the old Scottish wild breed, whose ferocity occasioned great plague to the Ketterans. "But ere we had reached the Row of Denman," said the old man, "a child might have scratched his ears."3 The circumstance is a minute one, but it paints the times when the poor beeve was compelled "To hoof it o'er as many weary miles,

With goarding pikemen hollowing at his heels,

As e'er the bravest antler of the woods." Ethwald.

8 This anecdote was, in former editions, inaccurately ascribed to Gregor Macgregor of Glengyle, called Ghlune Dhu, or Black-knee, a relation of Rob Roy, but, as I have been assured, not addicted to his predatory excesses.-Note to Third Edition.

His hide was snow, his horns were dark,
His red eye glow'd like fiery spark;

So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet,
Sore did he cumber our retreat,
And kept our stoutest kernes in awe,
Even at the pass of Beal 'maha.
But steep and flinty was the road,
And sharp the hurrying pikemen's goad,
And when we came to Dennan's Row,
A child might scatheless stroke his brow."-

V.

NORMAN.

"That bull was slain: his reeking hide
They stretch'd the cataract beside,
Whose waters their wild tumult toss
Adown the black and craggy boss
Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge
Tradition calls the Hero's Targe.1
Couch'd on a shelve beneath its brink,
Close where the thundering torrents sink,
Rocking beneath their headlong sway,
And drizzled by the ceaseless spray,
Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream,

1 There is a rock so named in the Forest of Glenfinlas, by which a tumultuary cataract takes its course. This wild place is said in former times to have afforded refuge to an outlaw, who was supplied with provisions by a woman, who lowered them down from the brink of the precipice above. His water he procured for himself, by letting down a flagon tied to a string, into the black pool beneath the fall.