THE LADY OF THE LAKE.

CANTO FIRST.

THE CHASE.

ARP of the North! that moldering long hast hung

Hon the witch-elm that shades St. Fillan's 3 spring,

And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung,
Till envious ivy did around thee cling,
Muffling with verdant ringlet every string,—

O minstrel Harp! still must thine accents sleep?
Mid rustling leaves and fountain's murmuring,

Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep,
Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep?

Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon,1

Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd,
When lay of hopeless love, or glory won,

Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud.

1 The poet invokes the spirit that animated the ancient Scottish minstrels, whose songs were usually accompanied by the music of the harp.

2 Called also the "wizard elm," because forked twigs from the tree were used as divining rods.

3 A Scotch abbot of the seventh century.

4 The Romans gave the name Caledonia to that part of Scotland north of the Clyde and Forth.

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At each according pause, was heard aloud

Thine ardent symphony sublime and high! Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bow'd;

For still the burden of thy minstrelsy

Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye.

Oh, wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand
That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray;
Oh, wake once more! though scarce my skill command
Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay:
Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away,
And all unworthy of thy nobler strain,

Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway,

The wizard note has not been touch'd in vain. Then silent be no more! Enchantress, wake again!

I.

THE stag at eve had drunk his fill,
Where danced the moon on Monan's 1 rill,
And deep his midnight lair had made
In lone Glenartney's 2 hazel shade;

But, when the sun his beacon red
Had kindled on Benvoirlich's 2 head,
The deep-mouth'd bloodhound's heavy bay
Resounded up the rocky way,

And faint, from farther distance borne,
Were heard the clanging hoof and horn.

II.

As Chief, who hears his warder 3 call,

"To arms the foemen storm the wall,"

1 St. Monan was a Scotch monk of the fourth century. The rill cannot be identified.

2 See map, p. 2.

3 For the meaning of technical terms, colloquialisms, and unusual words not to be found in a school dictionary, see Glossary at the end of volume.

The antler'd monarch of the waste

Sprung from his heathery 1 couch in haste.
But, ere his fleet career he took,

The dewdrops from his flanks he shook;
Like crested leader proud and high,
Toss'd his beam'd 2 frontlet to the sky;
A moment gazed adown the dale,
A moment snuff'd the tainted gale,3
A moment listen'd to the cry,

That thicken'd as the chase drew nigh;
Then, as the headmost foes appear'd,
With one brave bound the copse he clear'd,
And, stretching forward free and far,
Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.4

III.

Yell'd on the view the opening 5 pack;
Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back;
To many a mingled sound at once
The awaken'd mountain gave response.
A hundred dogs bay'd deep and strong,
Clatter'd a hundred steeds along,
Their peal the merry horns rung out,
A hundred voices join'd the shout;
•With hark and whoop and wild halloo,
No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew.
Far from the tumult fled the roe,

Close in her covert cower'd the doe,

1 The heath or heather is a small evergreen shrub very common in the Scottish Highlands.

2 The head of a stag is said to be beamed after its fourth-year horns appear. 3 "Tainted gale," i.e., the wind scented with the odor of the pursuers. 4 See map, p. 2.

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5 A pack of hounds is said to open" when the dogs begin to bark, upon recovering the scent or catching sight of the game.

The falcon, from her cairn on high,
Cast on the rout1 a wondering eye,
Till far beyond her piercing ken 2
The hurricane had swept the glen.
Faint, and more faint, its failing din
Return'd from cavern, cliff, and linn,3
And silence settled, wide and still,
On the lone wood and mighty hill.

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;

4

So shrewdly on the mountain side

Had the bold burst their mettle tried.

V.

The noble stag was pausing now
Upon the mountain's southern brow,
Where broad extended, far beneath,
The varied realms of fair Menteith.5
With anxious eye he wander'd o'er
Mountain and meadow, moss and moor,

1 A confused or boisterous gathering.

3 A deep pool.

4 Severely.

2 Sight.

5 Or Monteith, a picturesque district of Scotland watered by the river

Teith.

And ponder'd refuge from his toil,
By far Lochard or Aberfoyle.

But nearer was the copsewood gray,

That waved and wept on Loch Achray,
And mingled with the pine trees blue
On the bold cliffs of Benvenue.
Fresh vigor with the hope return'd,
With flying foot the heath he spurn'd,
Held westward with unwearied race,
And left behind the panting chase.

VI.

'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er,
As swept the hunt through Cambus-more; 1
What reins were tighten'd in despair,
When rose Benledi's ridge in air;
Who flagg'd upon Bochastle's heath,
Who shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith,-
For twice that day, from shore to shore,
The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er.
Few were the stragglers, following far,
That reach'd the lake of Vennachar;
And when the Brigg 2 of Turk was won,
The headmost horseman rode alone.

VII.

Alone, but with unbated zeal,

That horseman plied the scourge and steel; 3
For jaded now, and spent with toil,
Emboss'd with foam, and dark with soil,
While every gasp with sobs he drew,
The laboring stag strain'd full in view.

1 An estate about two miles from Callander on the wooded banks of the

Keltie.

2 Bridge.

3 Spur.