Hard by where turn'd apart the road
To Douglas's obscure abode.

It was but with that dawning morn,
That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn
To drown his love in war's wild roar,'
Nor think of Ellen Douglas more;
But he who stems a stream with sand,
And fetters flame with flaxen band,
Has yet a harder task to prove-
By firm resolve to conquer love!

Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost,
Still hovering near his treasure lost;
For though his haughty heart deny
A parting meeting to his eye,
Still fondly strains his anxious ear,
The accents of her voice to hear,
And inly did he curse the breeze
That waked to sound the rustling trees.
But hark! what mingles in the strain ?
It is the harp of Allan-bane,
That wakes its measure slow and high,
Attuned to sacred minstrelsy.

What melting voice attends the strings ? "Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings.

XXX.
Died on the harp the closing hymn ---
Unmoved in attitude and limb,

As list'ning still, Clan-Alpine's lord
Stood leaning on his heavy sword,
Until the page, with humble sign,
Twice pointed to the sun's decline.
Then while his plaid he round him cast.
"It is the last time-'tis the last,"
He mutter'd thrice,-"the last time e'er
That angel voice shall Roderick hear!"
It was a goading thought-his stride
Hied hastier down the mountain-side;
Sullen he flung him in the boat,
And instant 'cross the lake it shot.
They landed in that silvery bay,
And eastward held their hasty way,
Till, with the latest beams of light,
The band arrived on Lanrick height,
Where muster'd, in the vale below,*
Clan-Alpine's men in martial show.

XXXI.

A various scene the clansmen made,
Some sate, some stood, some slowly stray'd;

But most with mantles folded round,
Were couch'd to rest upon the ground,
Scarce to be known by curious eye,
From the deep heather where they lie,
So well was match'd the tartan screen
With heath-bell dark and brackens green;
Unless where, here and there, a blade,
Or lance's point, a glimmer made,

Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade.
But when, advancing through the gloom,
They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume,
Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide,
Shook the steep mountain's steady side.
Thrice it arose, and lake and fell
Three times return'd the martial yell;
It died upon Bochastle's plain,
And Silence claim'd her evening reign.

The Lady of the Lake.

CANTO FOURTH.

The Prophecy.

I.

"The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew,
And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.

4 MS." Where broad extending far below,

Muster'd Clan-Alpine's martial show."

5 MS." And rapture dearest when obscured by fears"

O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears,

1 bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, Emblem of hope and love through future years !" Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave.

II.

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung,
Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue.
All while he stripp'd the wild-rose spray,
His axe and bow beside him lay,
For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood,

A wakeful sentinel he stood.

Hark! on the rock a footstep rung,
And instant to his arms he sprung.
"Stand, or thou diest !-What, Malise ?-soon
Art thou return'd from Braes of Doune.
By thy keen step and glance I know,
Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe."-
(For while the Fiery Cross hied on,
On distant scout had Malise gone.)
"Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchman said.-
"Apart, in yonder misty glade;

To his lone couch I'll be your guide."-
Then call'd a slumberer by his side,

And stirr'd him with his slacken'd bow-
"Up, up, Glentarkin! rouse thee, ho!
We seek the Chieftain; on the track,
Keep eagle watch till I come back."

III.

Together up the pass they sped:
"What of the foemen?" Norman said.-
"Varying reports from near and far;
This certain, that a band of war
Has for two days been ready boune,

At prompt command, to march from Doune;
King James, the while, with princely powers,
Holds revelry in Stirling towers.
Soon will this dark and gathering cloud
Speak on our glens in thunder loud.

Inured to bide such bitter bout,
The warrior's plaid may bear it out;
But, Norman, how wilt thou provide
A shelter for thy bonny bride?"-
"What! know ye not that Roderick's care
To the lone isle hath caused repair
Each maid and matron of the clan,
And every child and aged man
Unfit for arms; and given his charge,
Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge,
Upon these lakes shall float at large,
But all beside the islet moor,

That such dear pledge may rest secure?"

IV.

""Tis well advised-the Chieftain's plan' Bespeaks the father of his clan.

1 MS.-"'Tis well advised-a prudent plan, Worthy the father of his clan."

But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu
Apart from all his followers true?"-
"It is, because last evening-tide
Brian an augury hath tried,

Of that dread kind which must not be
Unless in dread extremity,

The Taghairm call'd; by which, afar,
Our sires foresaw the events of war.2
Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew."

MALISE.

"Ah! well the gallant brute I knew!
The choicest of the prey we had,
When swept our merry-men Gallangad.3
His hide was snow, his horns were dark,
His red eye glow'd like fiery spark;
So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet,
Sore did he cumber our retreat,
And kept our stoutest kernes in awe,
Even at the pass of Beal 'maha.
But steep and flinty was the road,
And sharp the hurrying pikemen's goad,
And when we came to Dennan's Row,
A child might scatheless stroke his brow."--

V. NORMAN.

"That bull was slain: his reeking hide
They stretch'd the cataract beside,
Whose waters their wild tumult toss
Adown the black and craggy boss
Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge
Tradition calls the Hero's Targe.1
Couch'd on a shelve beneath its brink,
Close where the thundering torrents sink,
Rocking beneath their headlong sway,
And drizzled by the ceaseless spray,
Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream.
The wizard waits prophetic dream.
Nor distant rests the Chief;--but hush!
See, gliding slow through mist and bush,
The hermit gains yon rock, and stands
To gaze upon our slumbering bands.
Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost,
That hovers o'er a slaughter'd host?
Or raven on the blasted oak,

That, watching while the deer is broke,"
His morsel claims with sullen croak?"

VI.

And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord
The Hermit Monk held solemn word:-
"Roderick! it is a fearful strife,
For man endow'd with mortal life,
Whose shroud of sentient clay can still
Feel feverish pang and fainting chill,
Whose eye can stare in stony trance,
Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance,-
"Tis hard for such to view, unfurl'd,

The curtain of the future world.
Yet, witness every quaking limb,
My sunken pulse, my eyeballs dim,
My soul with harrowing anguish torn,-
This for my Chieftain have I borne !—
The shapes that sought my fearful couch,
An human tongue may ne'er avouch;
No mortal man,-save he, who, bred
Between the living and the dead,
Is gifted beyond nature's law,--
Had e'er survived to say he saw.
At length the fatal answer came,
In characters of living flame!

Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll,
But borne and branded on my soul;-
WHICH SPILLS THE FOREMOST FOeman's life,'
THAT PARTY CONQUERS IN THE STRIFE!"?

VII.

"Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care!
Good is thine augury, and fair.
Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood,
But first our broadswords tasted blood.
A surer victim still I know,
Self-offer'd to the auspicious blow:
A spy has sought my land this morn,-
No eve shall witness his return!
My followers guard each pass's mouth,
To east, to westward, and to south;
Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide,3
Has charge to lead his steps aside,
Till, in deep path or dingle brown,
He light on those shall bring him down."
-But see,
who comes his news to show!
Malise! what tidings of the foe?"-

I saw the Moray's silver star,
And mark'd the sable pale of Mar."-
"By Alpine's soul, high tidings those!
I love to hear of worthy foes.

When move they on?"-"To-morrow's noon'
Will see them here for battle boune."_
"Then shall it see a meeting stern!-
But, for the place-say, couldst thou learn
Nought of the friendly clans of Earn?
Strengthen'd by them, we well might bide
The battle on Benledi's side.

Thou couldst not?-Well! Clan-Alpine's men
Shall man the Trosach's shaggy glen;
Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight,
All in our maids' and matrons' sight,
Each for his hearth and household fire,
Father for child, and son for sire,-
Lover for maid beloved!-But why-
Is it the breeze affects mine eye!
Or dost thou come, ill-omen'd tear!
A messenger of doubt or fear!
No sooner may the Saxon lance
Unfix Benledi from his stance,
Than doubt or terror can pierce through
The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu!
'Tis stubborn as his trusty targe.-7
Each to his post!-all know their charge."
The pibroch sounds, the bands advance,
The broadswords gleam, the banners dance,
Obedient to the Chieftain's glance.
-I turn me from the martial roar,
And seek Coir-Uriskin once more.

IX.

Where is the Douglas ?-he is gone;
And Ellen sits on the grey stone
Fast by the cave, and makes her moan;
While vainly Allan's words of cheer
Are pour'd on her unheeding ear.-
"He will return-Dear lady, trust!-
With joy return;-he will-he must.
Well was it time to seek, afar,
Some refuge from impending war,
When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm
Are cow'd by the approaching storm.
I saw their boats, with many a light,
Floating the live-long yesternight,
Shifting like flashes darted forth
By the red streamers of the north;

7 MS.-"'Tis stubborn as his Highland targe."

8 MS.-" Thick as the flashes darted forth By morrice-dancers of the north; And saw at morn their barges ride, little fleet, Close moor'd by the lone islet's side. Since this rude race dare not abide Upon their native mountain side, 'Tis fit that Douglas should provide For his dear child some safe abode. And soon he comes to point the road.

I mark'd at morn how close they ride,
Thick moor'd by the lone islet's side,
Like wild-ducks couching in the fen,
When stoops the hawk upon the glen.
Since this rude race dare not abide
The peril on the mainland side,
Shall not thy noble father's care
Some safe retreat for thee prepare?"--

X.

ELLEN.

"No, Allan, no! Pretext so kind1
My wakeful terrors could not blind.
When in such tender tone, yet grave,
Douglas a parting blessing gave,
The tear that glisten'd in his eye
Drown'd not his purpose fix'd on high.
My soul, though feminine and weak,
Can image his; e'en as the lake,
Itself disturb'd by slightest stroke,2
Reflects the invulnerable rock.
He hears report of battle rife,

He deems himself the cause of strife.
I saw him redden, when the theme
Turn'd, Allan, on thine idle dream,
Of Malcolm Græme, in fetters bound,
Which I, thou saidst, about him wound.
Think'st thou he trow'd thine omen aught?
Oh no! 'twas apprehensive thought
For the kind youth,-for Roderick too--
(Let me be just) that friend so true;
In danger both, and in our cause!
Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause.
Why else that solemn warning given,
'If not on earth, we meet in heaven!'
Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane,
If eve return him not again,

Am I to hie, and make me known?
Alas! he goes to Scotland's throne,
Buys his friend's safety with his own ;-
He goes to do what I had done,
Had Douglas' daughter been his son !"-

XI.

"Nay, lovely Ellen !-dearest, nay!
If aught should his return delay,
He only named yon holy fane
As fitting place to meet again.
Be sure he's safe; and for the Græme,-
Heaven's blessing on his gallant name !—
My vision'd sight may yet prove true,
Nor bode of ill to him or you.
When did my gifted dream beguile?
Think of the stranger at the isle,

1 MS." No, Allan, no! His words so kind
Were but pretexts my fears to blind.
When in such solemn tone, and grave,
Douglas a parting blessing gave."
MS.-"Itself disturb'd by slightest shock,
Reflects the adamantine rock."