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, 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. 1 MS.- And rapture dearest when obscured by fears. "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.) "Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchman said. "Apart in yonder misty glade; To his lone couch I'll be your guide.”. III. Together up the pass they sped : This certain, that a band of war Has for two days been ready boune, At prompt command, to march from Doune; Soon will this dark and gathering cloud Inured to bide such bitter bout, To the lone isle hath caused repair That such dear pledge may rest secure?" IV. "Tis well advised - the Chieftain's plan 1 But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu Brian an augury hath tried, Of that dread kind which must not be The Taghairm call'd; by which, afar, MALISE. "Ah! well the gallant brute I knew! 1 MS.-'Tis well advised- - a prudent plan, 2 See Appendix, Note I. 3 I know not if it be worth observing, that this passage is taken almost literally from the mouth of an old Highland His hide was snow, his horns were dark, And kept our stoutest kernes in awe, But steep and flinty was the road, And sharp the hurrying pikemen's goad, 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 black mail, 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 Dennan," said the old man, “a child might have scratched his ears."* 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 goading pikemen hollowing at his heels, As e'er the bravest antler of the woods." Ethwald. *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. |