XII. Ever the breeze blows merrily, But the galley ploughs no more the sea. Lest, rounding wild Cantyre, they meet The southern foeman's watchful fleet,

They held unwonted way;

Up Tarbat's western lake they bore,
Then dragg'd their bark the isthmus o'er,'
As far as Kilmaconnel's shore,

Upon the eastern bay.

It was a wondrous sight to see
Topmast and pennon glitter free,
High raised above the greenwood tree,
As on dry land the galley moves,
By cliff and copse and alder groves.
Deep import from that selcouth sign,
Did many a mountain Seer divine,
For ancient legends told the Gael,
That when a royal bark should sail
O'er Kilmaconnel moss,
Old Albyn should in fight prevail,
And every foe should faint and quail
Before her silver Cross.

XIII.

Now launch'd once more, the inland sea They furrow with fair augury,

And steer for Arran's isle; The sun, ere yet he sunk behind Ben-Ghoil," the Mountain of the Wind," Gave his grim peaks a greeting kind,

And bade Loch Ranza smile.2
Thither their destined course they drew;
It seem'd the isle her monarch knew,
So brilliant was the landward view,
The ocean so serene;

Each puny wave in diamonds roll'd
O'er the calm deep, where hues of gold
With azure strove and green.

The hill, the vale, the tree, the tower,
Glow'd with the tints of evening's hour,
The beach was silver sheen,
The wind breathed soft as lover's sigh,
And, oft renew'd, seem'd oft to die,

With breathless pause between.
O who, with speech of war and woes,
Would wish to break the soft repose
Of such enchanting scene!

XIV.

Is it of war Lord Ronald speaks?
The blush that dies his manly cheeks,
The timid look and downcast eye,
And faltering voice the theme deny.

And good King Robert's brow express'd,
He ponder'd o'er some high request,
As doubtful to approve,

Yet in his eye and lip the while,
Dwelt the half-pitying glance and smile,
Which manhood's graver mood beguile,
When lovers talk of love.

Anxious his suit Lord Ronald pled;

"And for my bride betrothed," he said, "My Liege has heard the rumour spread Of Edith from Artornish fled. Too hard her fate-I claim no right 3 To blame her for her hasty flight; Be joy and happiness her lot!But she hath fled the bridal-knot, And Lorn recall'd his promised plight, In the assembled chieftains' sight.When, to fulfil our fathers' band, I proffer'd all I could-my handI was repulsed with scorn; Mine honour I should ill assert, And worse the feelings of my heart, If I should play a suitor's part Again, to pleasure Lorn."

XV.

"Young Lord," the Royal Bruce replied,
"That question must the Church decide;
Yet seems it hard, since rumours state
Edith takes Clifford for her mate,
The very tie, which she hath broke,
To thee should still be binding yoke.
But, for my sister Isabel-

The mood of woman who can tell?
I guess the Champion of the Rock,
Victorious in the tourney shock,

That knight unknown, to whom the prize
She dealt, had favour in her eyes;
But since our brother Nigel's fate,
Our ruin'd house and hapless state,
From worldly joy and hope estranged,
Much is the hapless mourner changed.
Perchance," here smiled the noble King,
"This tale may other musings bring.
Soon shall we know yon mountains hide
The little convent of Saint Bride;
There, sent by Edward, she must stay,
Till fate shall give more prosperous day,
And thither will I bear thy suit,
Nor will thine advocate be mute."

XVI.

As thus they talk'd in earnest mood, That speechless boy beside them stood.

'See Appendix, Note 2 R.

Я See Appendix, Note 2 S.

4 MS.-"The princely Bruce."

a MS.

-"no tongue is mine To blame her." &c.

5 MS." Thither, by Edward sent, she stays Till fate shall lend inore prospercus days."

He stoop'd his head against the mast,
Ard bitter sobs came thick and fast,
A grief that would not be repress'd,
But seem'd to burst his youthful breast.
His hands, against his forehead held,
As if by force his tears repell'd,

But through his fingers, long and slight,
Fast trill'd the drops of crystal bright.
Edward, who walk'd the deck apart,
First spied this conflict of the heart.
Thoughtless as brave, with bluntness kind
He sought to cheer the sorrower's mind;
By force the slender hand he drew

From those poor eyes that stream'd with dew.
As in his hold the stripling strove,-
('Twas a rough grasp, though meant in love,)
Away his tears the warrior swept,

And bade shame on him that he wept.'
"I would to heaven, thy helpless tongue
Could tell me who hath wrought thee wrong!
For, were he of our crew the best,
The insult went not unredress'd.
Come, cheer thee; thou art now of age
To be a warrior's gallant page;
Thou shalt be mine!-a palfrey fair
O'er hill and holt my boy shall bear,
To hold my bow in hunting grove,
Or speed on errand to my love;
For well I wot thou wilt not tell
The temple where my wishes dwell."

XVII.

Bruce interposed,-" Gay Edward, no,
This is no youth to hold thy bow,
To fill thy goblet, or to bear
Thy message light to lighter fair.
Thou art a patron all too wild
And thoughtless, for this orphan child.
See'st thou not how apart he steals,
Keeps lonely couch, and lonely meals?
Fitter by far in yon calm cell
To tend our sister Isabel,
With father Augustin to share

The peaceful change of convent prayer,
Than wander wild adventures through,
With such a reckless guide as you."-
"Thanks, brother!" Edward answer'd gay,
"For the high laud thy words convey!
But we may learn some future day,
If thou or I can this poor boy
Protect the best, or best employ.
Meanwhile, our vessel nears the strand;
Launch we the boat, and seek the land."

XVIII.

To land King Robert lightly sprung, And thrice aloud his bugle rung

1 MS-" And as away the tears he swept, He bade shame on him that he wept."

With note prolong'd and varied strain,
Till bold Ben-Ghoil replied again.
Good Douglas then, and De la Haye,
Had in a glen a hart at bay,

And Lennox cheer'd the laggard hounds,
When waked that horn the greenwood bounds.
"It is the foe!" cried Boyd, who came
In breathless haste with eye of flame,-
"It is the foe!-Each valiant lord
Fling by his bow, and grasp his sword!"-
"Not so," replied the good Lord James,
"That blast no English bugle claims.
Oft have I heard it fire the fight,
Cheer the pursuit, or stop the flight.
Dead were my heart, and deaf mine ear,
If Bruce should call, nor Douglas hear!
Each to Loch Ranza's margin spring;
That blast was winded by the King!"?

XIX.

Fast to their mates the tidings spread,
And fast to shore the warriors sped.
Bursting from glen and greenwood tree,
High waked their loyal jubilee !
Around the royal Bruce they crowd,
And clasp'd his hands, and wept aloud.
Veterans of early fields were there,
Whose helmets press'd their hoary hair,
Whose swords and axes bore a stain
From life-blood of the red-hair'd Dane;

And boys, whose hands scarce brook'd to wield

The heavy sword or bossy shield.

Men too were there, that bore the scars

Impress'd in Albyn's woful wars,

At Falkirk's fierce and fatal fight,

Teyndrum's dread rout, and Methven's flight;
The might of Douglas there was seen,
There Lennox with his graceful mien;
Kirkpatrick, Closeburn's dreaded Knight;
The Lindsay, fiery, fierce, and light;
The Heir of murder'd De la Haye,
And Boyd the grave, and Seton gay.
Around their King regain'd they press'd,
Wept, shouted, clasp'd him to their breast,
And young and old, and serf and lord,
And he who ne'er unsheathed a sword,
And he in many a peril tried,
Alike resolved the brunt to bide,
And live or die by Bruce's side!

XX.

Oh, War! thou hast thy fierce delight,
Thy gleams of joy, intensely bright!
Such gleams, as from thy polish'd shield
Fly dazzling o'er the battle-field!
Such transports wake, severe and high,
Amid the pealing conquest-cry;

2 See Appendix, Note 2 T.

& MS." Impress'd by life-blood of the Dane,”

Scarce less, when, after battle lost,
Muster the remnants of a host,
And as each comrade's name they tell,
Who in the well-fought conflict fell,
Knitting stern brow o'er flashing eye,
Vow to avenge them or to die!—
Warriors!—and where are warriors found,
If not on martial Britain's ground?1

And who, when waked with note of fire,
Love more than they the British lyre?—
Know ye not,-hearts to honour dear!
That joy, deep-thrilling, stern, severe,
At which the heartstrings vibrate high,
And wake the fountains of the eye? 2
And blame ye, then, the Bruce, if trace
Of tear is on his manly face,
When, scanty relics of the train
That hail'd at Scone his early reign,
This patriot band around him hung,
And to his knees and bosom clung?-
Blame ye the Bruce?-his brother blamed,
But shared the weakness, while ashamed,
With haughty laugh his head he turn'd,
And dash'd away the tear he scorn'd.3

XXI.

'Tis morning, and the Convent bell
Long time had ceased its matin knell,
Within thy walls, Saint Bride!

An aged Sister sought the cell
Assign'd to Lady Isabel,

And hurriedly she cried, "Haste, gentle Lady, haste-there waits A noble stranger at the gates;

Saint Bride's poor vot'ress ne'er has seen
A Knight of such a princely mien ;
His errand, as he bade me tell,
Is with the Lady Isabel."
The princess rose,-for on her knee
Low bent she told her rosary,--
"Let him by thee his purpose teach:
I may not give a stranger speech."-
"Saint Bride forefend, thou royal Maid!"
The portress cross'd herself, and said,-
"Not to be prioress might I
Debate his will, his suit deny."-
"Has earthly show then, simple fool,
Power o'er a sister of thy rule,
And art thou, like the worldly train,
Subdued by splendours light and vain?"—

1 MS." If not on Britain's warlike ground."
"Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed,
When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply
In the red cup that crowns our memory;
And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!"
BYRON'S Corsair.

3 See Appendix, Note 2 U.

XXII.

"No, Lady! in old eyes like mine,
Gauds have no glitter, gems no shine;
Nor grace his rank attendants vain,
One youthful page is all his train.
It is the form, the eye, the word,
The bearing of that stranger Lord;'
His stature, manly, bold, and tall,
Built like a castle's battled wall,
Yet moulded in such just degrees,
His giant-strength seems lightsome erse.
Close as the tendrils of the vine
His locks upon his forehead twine,
Jet-black, save where some touch of
Has ta'en the youthful hue away.
Weather and war their rougher trace
Have left on that majestic face ;-
But 'tis his dignity of eye!

grey

There, if a suppliant, would I fly,
Secure, 'mid danger, wrongs, and grief,

Of sympathy, redress, relief

That glance, if guilty, would I dread

More than the doom that spoke me dead!”-
"Enough, enough," the princess cried,
""Tis Scotland's hope, her joy, her pride!
To meaner front was ne'er assign'd
Such mastery o'er the common mind-
Bestow'd thy high designs to aid,

How long, O Heaven! how long delay'd-
Haste, Mona, haste, to introduce
My darling brother, royal Bruce!"

XXIII.

They met like friends who part in pain.
And meet in doubtful hope again.
But when subdued that fitful swell,
The Bruce survey'd the humble cell ;-
"And this is thine, poor Isabel !—
That pallet-couch, and naked wall,
For room of state, and bed of pall;
For costly robes and jewels rare,
A string of beads and zone of hair;
And for the trumpet's sprightly call
To sport or banquet, grove or hall,
The bell's grim voice divides thy care,
"Twixt hours of penitence and prayer!-
O ill for thee, my royal claim
From the First David's sainted name!
O woe for thee, that while he sought
His right, thy brother feebly fought!"—

4" Mr. Scott, we have said, contradicts himself. How will he explain the following facts to his reader's satisfaction? The third canto informs us that Isabel accompanies Edward to Ireland, there to remain till the termination of the war; and in the fourth canto, the second day after her departure, we discover the princess counting her beads and reading homilies in the cloister of St. Bride, in the Island of Arran! We humbly beseech the Mighty Minstrel' to clear up this mat ter."-Critical Review.

5 MS." But when subsides," &c.

XXIV.

Now lay these vain regrets aside,
And be the unshaken Bruce!" she cried.
"For more I glory to have shared
The woes thy venturous spirit dared,
When raising first thy valiant band
In rescue of thy native land,

Than had fair Fortune set me down
The partner of an empire's crown.

And grieve not that on Pleasure's stream

No more I drive in giddy dream,
For Heaven the erring pilot knew,
And from the gulf the vessel drew,
Tried me with judgments stern and great,
My house's ruin, thy defeat,

Poor Nigel's death, till, tamed, I own,
My hopes are fix'd on Heaven alone;
Nor e'er shall earthly prospects win
My heart to this vain world of sin."-

XXV.

"Nay, Isabel, for such stern choice,
First wilt thou wait thy brother's voice;
Then ponder if in convent scene
No softer thoughts might intervene-
Say they were of that unknown Knight,
Victor in Woodstock's tourney-fight-
Nay, if his name such blush you owe,
Victorious o'er a fairer foe!"
Truly his penetrating eye

Hath caught that blush's passing dye,—
Like the last beam of evening thrown
On a white cloud,-just seen and gone.'
Soon with calm cheek and steady eye,
The princess made composed reply:-
" I
guess my brother's meaning well;
For not so silent is the cell,

But we have heard the islesmen all
Arm in thy cause at Ronald's call,

And mine eye proves that Knight unknown?

And the brave Island Lord are one.—
Had then his suit been earlier made,

In his own name, with thee to aid,
(But that his plighted faith forbade,)3
I know not. . . .
.... But thy page so near?-
This is no tale for menial's ear.'

1 "We would bow with veneration to the powerful and rugged genius of Scott. We would style him above all others, Homer and Shakspeare excepted, the Poet of Nature-of Nature in all her varied beauties, in all her wildest haunts. No appearance, however minute, in the scenes around him, escapes his penetrating eye; they are all marked with the nicest discrimation; are introduced with the happiest effect. Hence, in his similes, both the genius and the judgment of the poet are peculiarly conspicuous; his accurate observation of the appearances of nature, which others have neglected, imparts an originality to those allusions, of which the reader immediately recognises the aptness and propriety; and only wonders that what must have been so often witnessed should have been so uniformly passed unregarded by. Such is the simile applied to the transient blush observed by Bruce on

XXVI.

Still stood that page, as far apart

As the small cell would space afford; With dizzy eye and bursting heart,

He leant his weight on Bruce's sword, The monarch's mantle too he bore,* And drew the fold his visage o'er. "Fear not for him-in murderous strife," Said Bruce," his warning saved my life: Full seldom parts he from my side, And in his silence I confide, Since he can tell no tale again.

He is a boy of gentle strain,

And I have purposed he shall dwell

In Augustin the chaplain's cell,

And wait on thee, my Isabel.

Mind not his tears; I've seen them flow,

As in the thaw dissolves the snow. "Tis a kind youth, but fanciful, Unfit against the tide to pull,

And those that with the Bruce would sail, Must learn to strive with stream and gale.-But forward, gentle Isabel

My answer for Lord Ronald tell."—

XXVII.

"This answer be to Ronald given-
The heart he asks is fix'd on heaven."
My love was like a summer flower,
That wither'd in the wintry hour,
Born but of vanity and pride,
And with these sunny visions died.
If further press his suit-then say,
He should his plighted troth obey,
Troth plighted both with ring and
word,

And sworn on crucifix and sword.

Oh, shame thee, Robert! I have seen
Thou hast a woman's guardian been!
Even in extremity's dread hour,

When press'd on thee the Southern power,

And safety, to all human sight,

Was only found in rapid flight,

Thou heard'st a wretched female plain
In agony of travail-pain,