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The wondering Minstrel look'd, and knew-
Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu!
For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought,
They, erring, deem'd the Chief he sought

XIII.

As the tall ship, whose lofty prore
Shall never stem the billows more,
Deserted by her gallant band,
Amid the breakers lies astrand,-
So, on his couch, lay Roderick Dhu!
And oft his fever'd limbs he threw
In toss abrupt, as when her sides
Lie rocking in the advancing tides,
That shake her frame with ceaseless beat,
Yet cannot heave her from her seat:-
O! how unlike her course at sea!1
Or his free step on hill and lea !—
Soon as the Minstrel he could scan,
"What of thy lady?—of my clan ?—
My mother?-Douglas ?-tell me all?
Have they been ruin'd in my fall?
Ah, yes! or wherefore art thou here!
Yet speak,-speak boldly,-do not fear."-
(For Allan, who his mood well knew,
Was choked with grief and terror too.)

1 [MS "O! how unlike her course on main; Or his free step on hill and plain !"]

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"Who fought-who fled ?-Old man, be brief;— Some might-for they had lost their Chief. Who basely live?—who bravely died ?"— "O, calm thee, Chief!"-the Minstrel cried, "Ellen is safe;"-" For that, thank Heaven!"— "And hopes are for the Douglas given;The Lady Margaret too is well, And, for thy clan,-on field or fell, Has never harp of minstrel told,1 Of combat fought so true and bold, Thy stately Pine is yet unbent, Though many a goodly bough is rent."

XIV.

The Chieftain rear'd his form on high,
And fever's fire was in his eye;

But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks
Chequer'd his swarthy brow and cheeks.
-"Hark, Minstrel! I have heard thee play,
With measure bold, on festal day,
In yon lone isle, . . . again where ne'er
Shall harper play, or warrior hear!...
That stirring air that peals on high,
O'er Dermid's race our victory.-

Strike it!—and then, (for well thou canst,)
Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced,

1 [MS." Shall never harp of minstrel tell,

Of combat fought so fierce and well."]

There are several instances, at least in tradition, of persons

Fling me the picture of the fight,

When met my clan the Saxon might.

so much attached to particular tunes, as to require to hear them on their deathbed. Such an anecdote is mentioned by the late Mr Riddel of Glenriddel, in his collection of Border tunes, respecting an air called the "Dandling of the Bairns," for which a certain Gallovidian laird is said to have evinced this strong mark of partiality. It is popularly told of a famous freebooter, that he composed the tune known by the name of Macpherson's Rant, while under sentence of death, and played it at the gallows-tree. Some spirited words have been adapted to it by Burns. A similar story is recounted of a Welsh bard, who composed and played on his deathbed the air called Dafyddy Garregg Wen. But the most curious example is given by Brantome, of a maid of honour at the court of France, entitled, Mademoiselle de Limeuil. "Durant sa maladie, dont elle trespassa, jamais elle ne cessa, ains causa tousjours; car elle estoit fort grande parleuse, brocardeuse, et très-bien et fort à propos, et très-belle avec cela. Quand l'heure de sa fin fut venue, elle fit venir a soy son valet (ainsi que le filles de la cour en ont chacune un), qui s'appelloit Julien, et scavoit très-bien joüer du violon. 'Julien,' luy dit elle, 'prenez vostre violon, et sonnez moy tousjours jusques a ce que me voyez morte (car je m'y en vais) la défaite des Suisses, et le mieux que vous pourrez, et quand vous serez sur le mot, 'Tout est perdu,' sonnez le par quatre ou cing fois le plus piteusement que vous pourrez,' ce qui fit l'autre, et ellemesme luy adoit de la voix, et quand ce vint 'tout est perdu,' elle le réïtera par deux fois; et se tournant de l'autre costé du chevet, elle dit à ses compagnes: Tout est perdu à ce coup, et à bon escient;' et ainsi décéda. Voila une morte joyeuse et plaisante. Je tiens ce conte de deux de ses compagnes, dignes de foi, qui virent jouer ce mystère."Oeuvres de Brantome, iii. 507. The tune to which this fair lady chose to make her final exit, was composed on the defeat of the

I'll listen, till my fancy hears

The clang of swords, the crash of spears!
These grates, these walls, shall vanish then,
For the fair field of fighting men,
And my free spirit burst away,
As if it soar'd from battle-fray."

The trembling Bard with awe obey'd,—
Slow on the harp his hand he laid;
But soon remembrance of the sight
He witness'd from the mountain's height,
With what old Bertram told at night,1
Awaken'd the full power of song,
And bore him in career along;-
As shallop launch'd on river's tide,
That slow and fearful leaves the side,
But, when it feels the middle stream,

Drives downward swift as lightning's beam.

XV.

Battle of Beal' an Duine.2

"The Minstrel came once more to view

The eastern ridge of Benvenue,

Swiss at Marignano. The burden is quoted by Panurge, in Rabelais, and consists of these words, imitating the jargon of the Swiss, which is a mixture of French and German

"Tout est verlore

La Tintelore,

Tout est verlore, bi Got!"

[The MS. has not this line.]

2 A skirmish actually took place at a pass thus called in the

For, ere he parted, he would say
Farewell to lovely Loch Achray—

Trosachs, and closed with the remarkable incident mentioned in the text. It was greatly posterior in date to the reign of James V.

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In this roughly-wooded island, the country people secreted their wives and children, and their most valuable effects from the rapacity of Cromwell's soldiers, during their inroad into this country, in the time of the republic. These invaders, not venturing to ascend by the ladders, along the side of the lake, took a more circuitous road through the heart of the Trosachs, the most frequented path at that time, which penetrates the wilderness about half way between Binean and the lake, by a tract called Yea-chilleach, or the Old Wife's Bog.

"In one of the defiles of this by-road, the men of the country at that time hung upon the rear of the invading enemy, and shot one of Cromwell's men, whose grave marks the scene of action, and gives name to that pass.2 In revenge of this insult, the soldiers resolved to plunder the island, to violate the women, and put the children to death. With this brutal intention, one of the party, more expert than the rest, swam towards the island, to fetch the boat to his comrades, which had carried the women to their asylum, and lay moored in one of the creeks. His companions stood on the shore of the mainland, in full view of all that was to pass, waiting anxiously for his return with the boat. But just as the swimmer had got to the nearest point of the island, and was laying hold of a black rock, to get on shore, a heroine, who stood on the very point where he meant to land, hastily snatching a dagger from below her apron, with one stroke severed his head from the body. His party seeing this disaster, and relinquishing all future hope of revenge or conquest, made the best of their way out of their perilous situation. This ama

I That at the eastern extremity of Loch Katrine, so often mentioned in the text.

Beallach an duine.

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