That thou wert mine avenger born. Seest thou this tress?-O! still I've worn This little tress of yellow hair, Through danger, frenzy, and despair! I will not tell thee when 't was shred, Nor from what guiltless victim's head- I waver still.-O God! more bright Avoid the path . . . O God! . . . farewell." ... XXVIII. A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James; 1 MS.-God in my need, to me be true, As I wreak this on Roderick Dhu. The mingled braid in blood he dyed, "By Him whose word is truth! I swear Till this sad token I imbrue In the best blood of Roderick Dhu! -But hark! what means yon faint halloo? The stag at bay's a dangerous foe." Through copse and cliff Fitz-James must stray, And thought his toils and perils o'er :— That all this Highland hornet's nest As e'er they heard of bands at Doune?— If farther through the wilds I go, I only fall upon the foe: I'll couch me here till evening gray, Then darkling try my dangerous way." XXIX. The shades of eve come slowly down, With cautious step, and ear awake, He climbs the crag and threads the brake; Famish'd and chill'd, through ways unknown, A watch-fire close before him burn'd. ΧΧΧ. Beside its embers red and clear,1 Bask'd, in his plaid, a mountaineer; And up he sprung with sword in hand,— "Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!”— 1 MS.-By the decaying flame was laid A warrior in his Highland plaid. |