The hand that for my father fought,

I honour, as his daughter ought;

But can I clasp it reeking red,

From peasants slaughter'd in their shed?
No! wildly while his virtues gleam,
They make his passions darker seem,
And flash along his spirit high,

Like lightning o'er the midnight sky.
While yet a child,—and children know,
Instinctive taught, the friend and foe,—
I shudder'd at his brow of gloom,
His shadowy plaid, and sable plume;
A maiden grown, I ill could bear
His haughty mien and lordly air;
But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim,
In serious mood, to Roderick's name,
I thrill with anguish! or, if e'er

A Douglas knew the word, with fear.
To change such odious theme were best,-
What think'st thou of our stranger guest ?”—

XV.

"What think I of him ?-woe the while

That brought such wanderer to our isle!
Thy father's battle-brand, of yore
For Tine-man forged by fairy lore,
What time he leagued, no longer foes,
His Border spears with Hotspur's bows,
Did, self-unscabbarded, fore-show

The footstep of a secret foe.

If courtly spy had harbour'd here,

What may we for the Douglas fear?
What for this island, deem'd of old
Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold !
If neither spy nor foe, I pray

What yet may jealous Roderick say?
-Nay, wave not thy disdainful head!

Bethink thee of the discord dread,

That kindled when at Beltane game

Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Græme;

Still, though thy sire the peace renew'd,

Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud;

Beware!-But hark, what sounds are these?

My dull ears catch no faultering breeze,

No weeping birch, nor aspens wake,

Nor breath is dimpling in the lake,

Still is the canna's * hoary beard,
Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard-

And hark again! some pipe of war

Sends the bold pibroch from afar."—

XVI.

Far up the lengthen'd lake were spied
Four darkening specks upon the tide,

That, slow enlarging on the view,

Four mann'd and masted barges grew,
And bearing downwards from Glengyle,

Steer'd full upon the lonely isle;

* Cotton-grass.

E

The point of Brianchoil they pass'd,

And, to the windward as they cast,

Against the sun they gave to shine

The bold Sir Roderick's banner'd Pine.

Nearer and nearer as they bear,

Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air.

Now might you see the tartans brave,

And plaids and plumage dance and wave;

Now see the bonnets sink and rise,

As his tough oar the rower plies;

See, flashing at each sturdy stroke,

The wave ascending into smoke;

See the proud pipers on the bow,

And mark the gaudy streamers flow.

From their loud chanters* down, and sweep

The furrow'd bosom of the deep,

As, rushing through the lake amain,

They plied the ancient Highland strain.

*The drone of the bag-pipe.

XVII.

Ever, as on they bore, more loud
And louder rung the pibroch proud.
At first the sound, by distance tame,
Mellow'd along the waters came,
And, lingering long by cape and bay,
Wail'd every harsher note away;

Then bursting bolder on the ear,

The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear;

Those thrilling sounds, that call the might Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight.

Thick beat the rapid notes, as when

The mustering hundreds shake the glen,

And hurrying at the signal dread,

The batter'd earth returns their tread.

Then prelude light, of livelier tone,

Express'd their merry marching on,

Ere peal of closing battle rose,

With mingled out-cry, shrieks, and blows ;