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!
It once was bright and clear as thine,
But blood and tears have dimm'd its shine.

I will not tell thee when 't was shred,

Nor from what guiltless victim's head-
My brain would turn !-but it shall wave
Like plumage on thy helmet brave,
Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,
And thou wilt bring it me again.—

I waver still.-O God! more bright
Let reason beam her parting light !—
O! by thy knighthood's honour'd sign,
And for thy life preserved by mine,
When thou shalt see a darksome man,
Who boasts him chief of Alpine's clan,
With tartans broad and shadowy plume,
And hand of blood, and brow of gloom,
Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong,
And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong!-
They watch for thee by pass and fell . . .

Avoid the path . . . O God! . . . farewell."

...

XXVIII.

A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James;
Fast pour'd his eyes at pity's claims,
And now with mingled grief and ire,
He saw the murder'd maid expire.
"God, in my need, be my relief,1
As I wreak this on yonder Chief!"
A lock from Blanche's tresses fair
He blended with her bridegroom's hair;

1 MS.-God in my need, to me be true,

As I wreak this on Roderick Dhu.

The mingled braid in blood he dyed,
And placed it on his bonnet-side:

"By Him whose word is truth! I swear
No other favour will I wear,

Till this sad token I imbrue

In the best blood of Roderick Dhu!

-But hark! what means yon faint halloo?
The chase is up,-but they shall know,

The stag at bay's a dangerous foe."
Barr'd from the known but guarded way,

Through copse and cliff Fitz-James must stray,
And oft must change his desperate track,
By stream and precipice turn'd back.
Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,
From lack of food and loss of strength,
He couch'd him in a thicket hoar,

And thought his toils and perils o'er :—
"Of all my rash adventures past,
This frantic feat must prove the last!
Who e'er so mad but might have guess'd,

That all this Highland hornet's nest
Would muster up in swarms so soon

As e'er they heard of bands at Doune?—
Like bloodhounds now they search me out,—
Hark, to the whistle and the shout!—

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,
The woods are wrapt in deeper brown,
The owl awakens from her dell,
The fox is heard upon the fell;
Enough remains of glimmering light
To guide the wanderer's steps aright.
Yet not enough from far to show
His figure to the watchful foe.

With cautious step, and ear awake,

He climbs the crag and threads the brake;
And not the summer solstice, there,
Temper'd the midnight mountain air,
But every breeze, that swept the wold,
Benumb'd his drenched limbs with cold.
In dread, in danger, and alone,

Famish'd and chill'd, through ways unknown,
Tangled and steep, he journey'd on;
Till, as a rock's huge point he turn'd,

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.

"A stranger."-" What dost thou require ?""Rest and a guide, and food and fire. My life's beset, my path is lost,

The gale has chill'd my limbs with frost.""Art thou a friend to Roderick ?"-"No.""Thou darest not call thyself a foe?"