But what I own?—I grant him brave,
But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave;1
And generous-save vindictive mood,
Or jealous transport, chafe his blood:
I grant him true to friendly band,
As his claymore is to his hand;
But O! that very blade of steel
More mercy for a foe would feel:
I grant him liberal, to fling

Among his clan the wealth they bring,
When back by lake and glen they wind,
And in the Lowland leave behind,
Where once some pleasant hamlet stood,
A mass of ashes slaked with blood.
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,—

1 This is a beautiful cascade made by a mountain stream called the Keltie, at a place called the Bridge of Bracklinn, about a mile from the village of Callander in Menteith. Above a chasm, where the brook precipitates itself from a height of at least fifty feet, there is thrown, for the convenience of the neighbourhood, a rustic foot-bridge, of about three feet in breadth, and without ledges, which is scarcely to be crossed by a stranger without awe and apprehension.

M

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,1
What time he leagued, no longer foes,
His border spears with Hotspur's bows,
Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow
The footstep of a secret foe.2

If court spy hath harbour'd here,

What may we for the Douglas fear?

1 Archibald, the third Earl of Douglas, was so unfortunate in all his enterprises, that he acquired the epithet of TINE-MAN, because he tined, or lost, his followers in every battle which he fought. He was vanquished, as every reader must remember, in the bloody battle of Homildon-hill, near Wooler, where he himself lost an eye, and was made prisoner by Hotspur. He was no less unfortunate when allied with Percy, being wounded and taken at the battle of Shrewsbury. He was so unsuccessful in an attempt to besiege Roxburgh Castle, that it was called the Foul Raid, or disgraceful expedition. His ill fortune left him indeed at the battle of Beaugé, in France; 2 See Appendix, Note D.

But what I own--I grant him brave,

But wild, as Bracklinn's thundering wave.

CANTO II., STANZA XIV.

Inkelder & at his brow of gloom,
fly shadowy plaid, and saita piume!
Gaiden grown, I ill could bear

1 baughly mien and Indy thes
Bet, if thận Kau'st a sultor's dalag
Is werloze brain to Roderick's name,
I twill with mugioh ! or, if e'er
A Pouglas knew the word, with fear.

with pillars theme were best.

sa of our stranger guest ?

XY.

• Who think I of Ela ---wee the while
That brought sucks wanderer in der in
The fober's buttle-brand, of prima
For Tineiutan foged by filor sure,
What time he leagned, 20

His border spears with Honggur's bows,
Did self-unsenbbarded,

The footstep of a secret f

If court spy bath harbour'd here,

What may we for the Dongles Your ?

Archibald, the third Earl of Dongles, was so unfortunate enterprises, that he acquired the opitber of Tegrotax, bormang fox, bis followers in every battle which he fought. He was v every Wireles kust remember, in the blonde Battle of Homil Wody, when Lạ himself lost an eye, and was made prisoner He was an bois unfortunate when allled with Percy, being w taben estos battle of Shrewsburg. He was so ensuccessful in a to bodega Berburgh Castle, that it was called the Foul Raid, exped Es fortune left him indeed at the battle of Beaugh * See Appendix, Note D.

But what I own?-I grant him brave,

But wild, as Bracklinn's thundering wave.

CANTO II., STANZA XIV.