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I will not tell thee when 'twas shred,
Nor from
My brain

Like

what guiltless victim's head

would turn!--but

plumage

on

it shall wave'

thy helmet brave,

Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain,
And thou

wilt

bring

it

me again.

still.-O God! more bright

I waver
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

Who boasts

With

a darksome man,

him Chief of Alpine's Clan, tartan's broad and shadowy plume, blood, and brow of gloom,

And hand

of

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I'll couch me here till evening grey,

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;

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Beside its embers red and clear,3

Bask'd, in his plaid, a mountaineer;

And up he sprung with sword in hand,-
"Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!"—

1

it on his bonnet-side:

whose word is truth! I swear, favour will

Till this sad token

In the best

-But

I wear,

I imbrue

blood of Roderick Dhu!

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

The chase

The stag at bay

's a dangerous foe."

Barr'd from the known but guarded way,
Through copse and cliffs 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:

MS.-" But now, my champion,-it shall wave.”
MS." God, in my need, to me be true,
As I wreak this on Roderick Dhu."
MS." By the decaying flame was laid
A warrior in his Highland plaid."

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"Rest and a guide, and food and fire.

My life's beset, my path is lost,

The gale has chil!'d my limbs with frost."-
"Art thou a friend to Roderick?"-"No."-
"Thou darest not call thyself a foe?"-
"I dare! to him and all the band1
He brings to aid his murderous hand."-

"Bold words!-but, though the beast of game

The privilege of chase may claim,

Though space and law the stag we lend,

Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend,

Who ever reck'd, where, how, or when,

The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain ?5

Thus treacherous scouts,-yet sure they lie,

Who say thou camest a secret spy!"—

"They do, by heaven!-Come Roderick Dhu,

And of his clan the boldest two,

And let me but till morning rest,

I write the falsehood on their crest."—

"If by the blaze I mark aright,

Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight."

"Then by these tokens mayest thou know
"Enough, enough; sit down and share
A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.

Each proud oppressor's mortal foe."

4 MS.-"I dare! to him and all the swarm
He brings to aid his murderous arm.”

5 See Appendix, Note 3 F.

XXXI.

And lights the fearful path on mountain side;-3 Fair as that beam, although the fairest far,

He gave him of his Highland cheer,
The harden'd flesh of mountain deer;1
Dry fuel on the fire he laid,
And bade the Saxon share his plaid.
He tended him like welcome guest,
Then thus his farther speech address'd.
"Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu
A clansman born, a kinsman true;
Each word against his honour spoke,
Demands of me avenging stroke;
Yet more,-upon thy fate, 'tis said,
A mighty augury is laid.

It rests with me to wind my horn,—
Thou art with numbers overborne;
It rests with me, here, brand to brand,
Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand:
But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause,
Will I depart from honour's laws;
To assail a wearied man were shame,
And stranger is a holy name;
Guidance and rest, and food and fire,
In vain he never must require.
Then rest thee here till dawn of day;
Myself will guide thee on the way,

O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward,
Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,

As far as Coilantogle's ford;

From thence thy warrant is thy sword."-
"I take thy courtesy, by heaven,
As freely as 'tis nobly given !"-
"Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry
Sings us the lake's wild lullaby."
With that he shook the gather'd heath,
And spread his plaid upon the wreath;
And the brave foemen, side by side,
Lay peaceful down, like brothers tried,
And slept until the dawning beam 2
Purpled the mountain and the stream.

The Lady of the Lake.

CANTO FIFTH.

The Combat.

I.

FAIR as the earliest beam of eastern light,
When first, by the bewilder'd pilgrim spied,
It smiles upon the dreary brow of night,
And silvers o'er the torrents foaming tide,

1 See Appendix, Note 3 G.

2 MS." And slept until the dawning streak Purpled the mountain and the lake."

a MS." And lights the fearful way along its side."

4 The Scottish Highlander calls himself Gael, or Gaul, and terms the Lowlanders, Sassenach, or Saxons.

Giving to horror grace, to danger pride,

Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star, Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War.

II.

That early beam, so fair and sheen,
Was twinkling through the hazel screen,
When, rousing at its glimmer red,
The warriors left their lowly bed,
Look'd out upon the dappled sky,
Mutter'd their soldier matins by,
And then awaked their fire, to steal,
As short and rude, their soldier meal.
That o'er, the Gael around him threw
His graceful plaid of varied hue,
And, true to promise, led the way,
By thicket green and mountain grey.
A wildering path !-they winded now
Along the precipice's brow,
Commanding the rich scenes beneath,
The windings of the Forth and Teith,
And all the vales beneath that lie,
Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky;
Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance
Gain'd not the length of horseman's lance.
'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain
Assistance from the hand to gain;

So tangled oft, that, bursting through,
Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew,-
That diamond dew, so pure and clear,
It rivals all but Beauty's tear!

III.

At length they came where, stern and steep, The hill sinks down upon the deep.

Here Vennachar in silver flows,

There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose;

Ever the hollow path twined on,

Beneath steep bank and threatening stone;
An hundred men might hold the post
With hardihood against a host.
The rugged mountain's scanty cloak
Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak,6
With shingles bare, and cliffs between,
And patches bright of bracken green,
And heather black, that waved so high,
It held the copse in rivalry.

But where the lake slept deep and still,
Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill;
And oft both path and hill were torn,
Where wintry torrents down had borne,

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And heap'd upon the cumber'd land
Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand.
So toilsome was the road to trace,
The guide, abating of his pace,

Led slowly through the pass's jaws,

And ask'd Fitz-James, by what strange cause He sought these wilds? traversed by few, Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.

IV.

"Brave Gael, my pass in danger tried,
Hangs in my belt, and by my side;
Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said,
"I dreamt not now to claim its aid.'
When here, but three days since, I came,
Bewilder'd in pursuit of game,
All seem'd as peaceful and as still,
As the mist slumbering on yon hill;
Thy dangerous Chief was then afar,
Nor soon expected back from war.
Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide,
Though deep, perchance, the villain lied.”—
"Yet why a second venture try?"—
"A warrior thou, and ask me why!-
Moves our free course by such fix'd cause,
As gives the poor mechanic laws :
Enough, I sought to drive away
The lazy hours of peaceful day;
Slight cause will then suffice to guide
A Knight's free footsteps far and wide,—2
A falcon flown, a greyhound stray'd,
The merry glance of mountain maid:
Or, if a path be dangerous known,
The danger's self is lure alone."-

V.

"Thy secret keep, I urge thee not;—3
Yet, ere again ye sought this spot,
Say, heard ye nought of Lowland war,
Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar?"
"No, by my word;-of bands prepared
To guard King James's sports I heard ;
Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear
This muster of the mountaineer,
Their pennons will abroad be flung,
Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.".
"Free be they flung !-for we were loth
Their silken folds should feast the moth.
Free be they flung !-as free shall wave
Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave.

But, Stranger, peaceful since you came,
Bewilder'd in the mountain game,
Whence the bold boast by which you show
Vich-Alpine's vow'd and mortal foe ?"—
"Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew
Nought of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu,

Save as an outlaw'd desperate inan,
The chief of a rebellious clan,
Who, in the Regent's court and sight,
With ruffian dagger stabb'd a knight:
Yet this alone might from his part
Sever each true and loyal heart."

VI.

Wrothful at such arraignment foul,

Dark lower'd the clansman's sable scowl.
A space he paused, then sternly said,
"And heard'st thou why he drew his blade!
Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow
Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe!
What reck'd the Chieftain if he stood
On Highland heath, or Holy-Rood?
He rights such wrong where it is given,
If it were in the court of heaven."---
"Still was it outrage;-yet, 'tis true,
Not then claim'd sovereignty his due;
While Albany, with feeble hand,
Held borrow'd truncheon of command,5
The young King, mew'd in Stirling tower,
Was stranger to respect and power.
But then, thy Chieftain's robber life!-
Winning mean prey by causeless strife,
Wrenching from ruin'd Lowland swain
His herds and harvest rear'd in vain.-
Methinks a soul, like thine, should scorn
The spoils from such foul foray borne."

VII.

The Gael beheld him grim the while,
And answer'd with disdainful smile,—
"Saxon, from yonder mountain high,
I mark'd thee send delighted eye,
Far to the south and east, where lay,
Extended in succession gay,

Deep waving fields and pastures green,
With gentle slopes and groves between :-
These fertile plains, that soften'd vale,
Were once the birthright of the Gael;
The stranger came with iron hand,
And from our fathers reft the land.
Where dwell we now! See, rudely swell
Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell.
Ask we this savage hill we tread,
For fatten'd steer or household bread;
Ask we for flocks these shingles dry,
And well the mountain might reply,-
To you, as to your sires of yore,
Belong the target and claymore!

I give you shelter in my breast,
Your own good blades must win the rest.'
Pent in this fortress of the North,
Think'st thou we will not sally forth,

MS.-"I dream'd not now to draw my blade." SMS.-"My errant footsteps

far and wide."

A knight's bold wanderingsf

3 MS." Thy secret keep, I ask it not."

4 MS." Which else in all had peaceful hung." 6 See Appendix, Note 3 H.

To spoil the spoiler as we may,

And from the robber rend the prey?
Ay, by my soul!--While on yon plain
The Saxon rears one shock of grain;
While, of ten thousand herds, there strays
But one along yon river's maze,—
The Gael, of plain and river heir,

Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share.'
Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold,
That plundering Lowland field and fold
Is aught but retribution true?

Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu.”—

VIII.

Answer'd Fitz-James,-" And, if I sought,
Think'st thou no other could be brought?
What deem ye of my path waylaid?
My life given o'er to ambuscade?"-
"As of a meed to rashness due:

Hadst thou sent warning fair and true,-
1 seek my hound, or falcon stray'd,
I seek, good faith, a Highland maid,—
Free hadst thou been to come and go;
But secret path marks secret foe.
Nor yet, for this, even as a spy,
Hadst thou, unheard, been doom'd to die,
Save to fulfil an augury."-

"Well, let it pass; nor will I now
Fresh cause of enmity avow,

To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow.
Enough, I am by promise tied

To match me with this man of pride:
Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen
In peace; but when I come agen,
I come with banner, brand, and bow,
As leader seeks his mortal foe.
For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower,
Ne'er panted for the appointed hour,
As I, until before me stand

This rebel Chieftain and his band!"-2

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3 MS.-" From copse to copse the signal flew.
Instant, through copse and crags, arose."
4 MS.-" The bracken bush shoots forth the dart."

5 MS." And each lone tuft of broom gives life
To plaided warrior arm'd for strife.
That whistle mann'd the lonely glen
With full five hundred armed men."

The Monthly reviewer says-" We now come to the chef-d'œuvre of Walter Scott,-a scene of more vigour, nature, and animation, than any other in all his poetry." Another anonymous critic of the poem is not afraid to quote, with reference to the effect of this passage, the sublime language of the Prophet Ezekiel:-" Then said he unto me, Prophesy unto the wind, prophesy, son of man, and say to the wind, Thus saith the Lord God, Come from the four winds, O

Wild as the scream of the curlew,
From crag to crag the signal flew.3
Instant, through copse and heath, arose
Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
On right, on left, above, below,
Sprung up at once the lurking foe;
From shingles grey their lances start,
The bracken bush sends forth the dart,*
The rushes and the willow-wand
Are bristling into axe and brand,
And every tuft of broom gives life
To plaided warrior arm'd for strife.
That whistle garrison'd the glen
At once with full five hundred men,
As if the yawning hill to heaven
A subterranean host had given."
Watching their leader's beck and will,7
All silent there they stood, and still.
Like the loose crags, whose threatening mass
Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass,
As if an infant's touch could urge
Their headlong passage down the verge,
With step and weapon forward flung,
Upon the mountain-side they hung.
The Mountaineer cast glance of pride
Along Benledi's living side,

Then fix'd his eye and sable brow
Full on Fitz-James-" How say'st thou now?
These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;
And, Saxon, I am Roderick Dhu!"

X.

Fitz-James was brave:-Though to his heart
The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start,
He mann'd himself with dauntless air,
Return'd the Chief his haughty stare,
His back against a rock he bore,
And firmly placed his foot before :-
"Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I."8
Sir Roderick mark'd-and in his eyes
Respect was mingled with surprise,
And the stern joy which warriors feel
In foemen worthy of their steel.

breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live. So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great army."-Chap. xxxvii. v. 9, 10.

7 MS.-" All silent, too, they stood, and still,
Watching their leader's beck and will,
While forward step and weapon show
They long to rush upon the foe,

Like the loose crags, whose tottering mass
Hung threatening o'er the hollow pass."

8 David de Strathbogie Earl of Athole, when about to engage Sir Andrew Moray at the battle of Kilblene, in 1335, in which he was slain, made an apostrophe of the same kind :"At a little path was there All samen they assembled were Even in the path was Earl Davy And to a great stone that lay by

Short space he stood-then waved his hand:

Down sunk the disappearing band;
Each warrior vanish'd where he stood,
In broom or bracken, heath or wood;
Sunk brand and spear and bended bow,
In osiers pale and copses low;
It seem'd as if their mother Earth
Had swallow'd up her warlike birth.
The wind's last breath had toss'd in air,
Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair,-
The next but swept a lone hill-side,
Where heath and fern were waving wide:
The sun's last glance was glinted back,
From spear and glaive, from targe and
jack,-

The next, all unreflected, shone

On bracken green, and cold grey stone.

XI.

Fitz-James look'd round-yet scarce believed
The witness that his sight received;
Such apparition well might seem
Delusion of a dreadful dream.
Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,
And to his look the Chief replied,
"Fear nought-nay, that I need not say―
But-doubt not aught from mine array.
Thou art my guest;-I pledged my word
As far as Coilantogle ford:

Nor would I call a clansman's brand
For aid against one valiant hand,1
Though on our strife lay every
vale
Rent by the Saxon from the Gael.
So move we on;-I only meant
To show the reed on which you leant,
Deeming this path you might pursue
Without a pass from Roderick Dhu."3
They moved :-I said Fitz-James was brave,
As ever knight that belted glaive;
Yet dare not say, that now his blood
Kept on its wont and temper'd flood,
As, following Roderick's stride, he drew
That seeming lonesome pathway through,
Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife
With lances, that, to take his life,
Waited but signal from a guide,
So late dishonour'd and defied.
Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round
The vanish'd guardians of the ground,
And still, from copse and heather deep,
Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep,*

He said By God his face, we twa The flight on us shall samen * ta."

At the same time or together.

And in the plover's shrilly stram,
The signal whistle heard again.
Nor breathed he free till far behind
The pass was left; for then they wind
Along a wide and level green,
Where neither tree nor tuft was seen,
Nor rush nor bush of broom was near,
To hide a bonnet or a spear.

XII.

The Chief in silence strode before,
And reach'd that torrent's sounding shore,
Which, daughter of three mighty lakes,
From Vennachar in silver breaks,
Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines
On Bochastle the mouldering lines,5
Where Rome, the Empress of the world,
Of yore her eagle wings unfurl'd."
And here his course the Chieftain staid,
Threw down his target and his plaid,
And to the Lowland warrior said:-
"Bold Saxon! to his promise just,
Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust.
This murderous Chief, this ruthless man,
This head of a rebellious clan,

Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward,
Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard.
Now, man to man, and steel to steel,
A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel.
See here, all vantageless I stand,
Arm'd, like thyself, with single brand:7
For this is Coilantogle ford,

And thou must keep thee with thy sword."

XIII.

The Saxon paused:-" I ne'er delay'd,
When foeman bade me draw my blade;
Nay, more, brave Chief, I vow'd thy death:
Yet sure thy fair and generous faith,
And my deep debt for life preserved,
A better meed have well deserved:
Can nought but blood our feud atone?

Are there no means !"-" No, Stranger, none!
And hear, to fire thy flagging zeal,-
The Saxon cause rests on thy steel;
For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred
Between the living and the dead;
'Who spills the foremost foeman's life,
His party conquers in the strife.' "-
"Then, by my word," the Saxon said,
"The riddle is already read.

him safely on his way the next morning, although he has spoken threatening and violent words against Roderick, whose kinsman the mountaineer professes himself to be,-these circumstances are all admirably imagined and related."

Note in the Author's MS. not affixed to any former edition-Monthly Review. of the poem.

1 MS." For aid against one brave-man's hand.” 2 "This scene is excellently described. The frankness and high-souled courage of the two warriors, the reliance which the Lowlander places on the word of the Highlander to guide

3 See Appendix, Note 3 K.

4 MS.-" And still, from copse and heather bush, Fancy saw spear and broadsword rush."

5 MS.-"On Bochastle the martial lines." 6 See Appendix, Note 3 L

7 Ibid, Note 3 M

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