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Knl.ro.1 arrnn.v:,Nl,.t,.,.,,,litslM,,i.,,,,,.n.,.ght Ski.kctions : '■''"' '-'I'lyf.f the Lake To My Sistrr . KxiKjstul.itidii and Reply Th.' Tiil.le.s Tiinied Indiifiict; (.f Natural (>l)j,.,,tM Nutting Michael To the Daisy ("Ii,ightlIov...r^^|„.se At the (Irave of Uunis Thoughts Suggeste.l on tlu. [)ay I'nll.'.wi, The Solitary JN iif.er CMe to Duty . . Klegiac Stanzas Suggested l.y a I'i.-ture of I (. astle ' ' • « - Character of the J [appy \V..„.,i,.,. "ONightingal.-, tliou surely art" '''•'the Ilev. Dr. Wordsworth Tlie rrinir(,se of the Kock ■'^'oii lifts • ion •eel jeie ' Fair Star of f- It veniUL' ■ning i«notto he thought of "It is a Ix'auteous e\< I'ersonal 'lalk , After-thought "Scorn not the Sonnet" On the Departure of Sir \V "A Poet!- He h alter Scott ath put his h.'art to school VK<\f. * • vii • ,9,- nU 1 V\>ii{sii'nt •(h I»i.-, IGU 107 II 168 •1 170 II 172 II IS7 II 187 II I!>0 11 iJCl II i;m II io<; II lOS II L'(l(» fi 201 tr L'(M 111 L'or, L'OG 207 208 209 209 210 IV CONTKNTS. NoTKs ON Scorr: PAS. ()/yiiiaiiili;is • . . . I!>. Aftir Siiiis.t • • • 'J(», t|<>|||<> ; JM W.ir-'I'lHl, til. Oil til.' h.uth ..f l:i,l,ar.l W.Hi •J'J. Kriiu'iiilit r ..... •J.S. Si.ntifts fi.)iM tlif l'..rtiigii»sf, .No. wn *J4. Sniimt XX vi. • • • 'J'». SoniK't xc. .... 2«;. T.) Ddia ..!..'" 27. To tli(( Lor.l (M'li.ral Croniwcll 28. To I/i.ly Kit/gcrald .... 21). Kjaculutiou (■/, Srott A*. Ihuiruiinj I) t/. /.'. I.it}i;ll H'. /in rut M Ji. Jin urn In If H . C, linjinit S lull,, I Wm. AlUiii/fiiim A'. J)ofwn (I'rin/ ■isfitiii Ci, lin,%si'lti A. li, /Iniirnimj ^hdk'i KjiKtvr I' •V. Ihtiihl Milton Wordmi'vrtk it INTRODrCTIOX. METIJK AND ITS KELATIOX TO THOUCHT. Metre. — The most easily perceived and iiiDst universal ohanvet eristic of poetry is its nietrieal form ; its language is regularly rhytliniioal. The sense of rhythm i.s produced by tlu; recurrence of similar conditions at regular intervals of t'uie ; so, breathing, the beating of the heart, the Miovements of waves, of a vibrating string, of the pendulum, of the feet in dancing, are all rhythmical. It vas in association with the last- mentioned species that language itself seems historically to have acquired that regular rhythm which constitutes the poetic form. Music, dan'nng, and song are, in the earlier stages of race develoi)ment, always associated. Primitive poetry was song, and consisted of words chanted or sung in unison with rhythmical movcmeiKS of the body. This original connectii'ii of poetry and dancing has left it.s traces upon some of the technical terms still employed in prosody ; iha/out contains the syllables originally sung while the foot went through one movement (a step, we call it) in the dance ; while the bodily foot was being raised, the unstressed syllables of the metrical foot were sung (hence this part of the metrical foot is called the arsis, ' raising'), and the more vigorous movement of setting down the foot w.as accompanied by the stressed syllable (the t/iis{s, ' setting down ').* The verse or line (/vr,s».s', 'a turn- ing ') contains the words sung during the succession of steps made in a forward or backward uiovement (as in our S([uare dances) until the tiii-n is made ; at the turn there is a pause in the dance, as there is at the end of a line in poetry. The Foot. — The recurring condition 8))oken f)f above aa one of the factors in rhythi.;, consists, in the case of poetry, in an arrangement of syllables, which must be similar at recurring intervals, namely, in each foot. The basis of the similarity varies among ditlerent races and at difTerent times, In classical (ireek and Latin the syllaliles of successive feet resemble one another in their time relations ('/'Kiii/i/i/), ejj., each * These facts may easily be observcfl in iiiarchiriK to the rub-a-dub of a kettle-drum ; the foot is raised while the drum beats rub-a, and set down at the more forciltle dxib. vii VI 11 INTRODUCTION. fftot may consist of a short syllalilo foll.»we(l ])y a long, of a long followed by two short, or of souu; other such arrangement. In the earliest Eng- lish, again, we have the recurrence of syllables of similar sound (allitera- tion). l>ut in our modern English poetry the basis ia sfyy-sn, i.e., enei'gy of utterance.* 'I'here are, of couise, in the series of syllables contained in a sentence many degrees of stress, but these are not accurately measured by the ear ; tivo degrees, liowever, the ear does easily discrim- inate, and 141011 this fact English metre is built. By various cond)ina- tions of strongly utt.'red syllables (called strewed) with less strongly uttered (called inis/ns.'ird), we get our English feet. So, indicating stressed syllables by the symbol o, and unstressed syllables by x, Me may fmd a successive jca, xa, or ax, ax, or xxa, xxa, etc. The two former are by far the most common feet, because in our natural utter- ance alternate syllables are rendered with greater force than the inter- vening ones ; this may be noted in the pronunciaticm of any ])olysyllabic word, like • I'ljcompatibility" ; in this word the odd syllables are stressed as compaied with the even ones, though not all to the same extent, t The Line. — The sense of rhythm is further intensified in poetry (as in square dances) by superimposing a secondary rhythm upon the primary one ; we have not only a recurrence of a regular arrai»f^ement of syllables in a foot ; but also of feet, in lines. The successivf lines are markeci otr from one another by jtauses ; but the rhythm is found to be made more palj)able and efl'ective by marking the close of tht line by some additional ])eculiarity. So, for example, in the four-foot rnapaestic measure so naturally and universally employed for marching, the kettle- drum beats ruh-a-dub, rab-a-duh, rid>-a-did), duh-dub, that is, xxa, xxa, * This is also an important, ttioiiuli not tiie distinctive factor, in <|U.i titative and alliterati\t' verse, and itidfcd in all vvrse, as niiglil l)e e.\j)eei d from what has been said of the orijjin of jtoeir. alioxi-. t The iambic or trochaii' movement is so much a part of our laifjuajre that tri- 8yllal)ie measures are usiil luit rarely, and rven whe!) emjiloyed a larjje number of dis- syllaliie feet invariably oeein- ; for example, in the following: Ht::n/a from thii Death of S-'r John Mure (wl.ieh is anapaestic in its movement), out of fourteen feet, eight are ili8s;vllal)ic ; We buried hrin darkly at dead of nijjht, The 8of rhyme. Metrical, as related to Sense, stresses and pauses. —We have tlien, in ixietry, on one side, a series of regular sounds, stresses, and pauses whose object is to produce a sense of rhythm more or less com- jlex, and to give pleasure to the ear ; and this rhythm might be made apparent by means of a series of perfectly meaningless sounds like tni-la, or ruh-a-di(h. But, on the other side, since poetry must give expression to thought, we have a series of sounds, stresses, and pauses (just as we have in j)rose) wliich are necessary to the conveyance of meaning. It is evident that these two series must, in the nuiin, coincide. If they do not, and the passage be reatl according to the sense, the rhythm will be obliterated and the poetic form absent ; or if the metrical stresses, etc., be o])served, words will be dialigured, their connection lost, and the sense be unrecognizable. It is true that this parallelism of the sense- system and the metrical system is more essential in some cases tlian others. The poet, for example, nnist not violate the word-pause, c.j/., 'The unaecented syllable in this fnol has jrreater leii^rth than the previous unac- ceiiled s\ Habits. X INTRODUCTION. tlivido a -word between two lines (except to produce a comic effect) ; liiit there is con.siderable latitiKh; in prose, much ni<>ro in ]»<)etry, in the insertion of tliose paiiscH which Miid words toother into phrases. Again, tlie most emphatic syllable in each word is usually i'wvA ; to give the chief em]»hasi8 to another syllable is to mutilate the word. Hence the poet must see that his metre brings the stronger stress upon this syllable ; but as l)etwecn two monosyllabic words, the metrical stress may sometimes fall where the sense stress wouM not fall. In short, the jxx-t has no methoil of imparting rh3'thm except to arrange his words in such a way that when uttered to express meaning, the recpiired rhythmic nioveuicnt is given. On the other hand, pro- vided the sense-s^'stcm and the verse-system in the main coincide, and thus the proper 'tune' is set up, he may trust this ' tunc' to carry the read(!r over places in which the sense rendering would leave the metre douljtful ; ami even, occasionally, where they are in contliot. For example, in the first line of Pdradise. Lost, Of man's Urst disobedience, and the fruit the sense stress in the lirst, third, and fifth feet is also the stress required by the metre. This is true, likewise, though less manifestly, in the fourth foot ; for an independent word, even though as insigniti- cant as "and," possesses naturally greater importance than one of the weaker syllables of a polysyllable. Here, then, the iambic metre is set up in the majority of feet ; and this sutHces to carry the rhythm through the remaining foot where it is ])robable, in ])r()se, "lirst" would be uttered with more energy than " dis. " If we turn to Shelley's Ski/lark, we lind the line, With i)rofiiso straiiin of unpremeditated art, where the word-accent in "jirofuse" is actually violated by the metre without unpleasiug efFect ; but such instinu'es are rare. In rendering the line, the voice attempts to give both stresses, and the result is not inappropriately called 'hovering accent.' What is true of "profuse" in this case, is trui , in general terms, of all correct reading of poetry — the voice gives ho/h the sense and the metrical rendering ; and, for good poetry, this will be found both possible i\rA pleasing. It must be noted that in lyincal poetry, a\ ith its predominance of emo- tion and its association with nuisic, the metrical forms dififer more markedly from the forms of prose, aiul the regularities of rhythm are uuire strictlv observed than is the case with other kinds of poetry ; the < 1 I i,Miifi- .f the is set (I be •i/lark, [use try- good emo- raore are the METRE AND ITS RELATION TO TMOrfillT. XI s(Misc is ooinpletely subjocted to the form, as is the thought to tlie emotion, P)ut in narr.itive i)o»'try, and esju'cijilly in the drama, the nR'trical forms are Itotli less striking and less inipiicitly followrd. The very fre(ju/i'ie Lo.tt, is much greater than that between "lirst" and " dis " of the second foot. The sense for rhythm is sufTi- ciently gratitied by the fact that in an iand>ic line the stress ia gieater ui)on the second syllalile than upon the lirst ; bub the stresses \ii)on all the it's of a line, or upon all the «'s, are not, as a rule, exactly e((ual. If they ^vere, the lines would become intolerably monotonous with their regular see-saw ; the variation of stress enables the poet to produce cadences, gradual ria.iigs aiul fallings of stress, such as we also have in the ordinary utterance of any prose scTittnce ; for there are phrase and clause and sentence stresses as well as word stresses. In metre as else- where the highest pleasure is given by variety in regularity ; the synmifctry between two sitles of a tree in its natural shai)e is more j)leas- ing, though less exact, than the symnudiy between two sides of a tree artificially clipped ; and the symmetry of the two sides of an elm than that of the two sitles of a spruce. So tiie most regular lines are not necessarily the most pleasing to the ear. In metre it is found possible to make still greater departures fr(tm uniformity than those indicated : to substitute in certain cases, for example, xxa, or even ax in the iambic line. The reason ^vhy such departures from the norm are XII INTK0in:(TION. possible, may sometimes be discovered, sometiuics not ; the cultivated ear is the final court of appeal ; variety is perniitted, proviiUd the fundamental sense of regularity is not destroyed. Wlien the regular norm of the verse is most closely adhered to, and when also there is the most jierfeet correspondence of tin; metrical sys- tem to the sense system, so that not only stress and p;uise in metre coincide with stress ami pause in sense, ))ut the relatively stronger metrical stresses and pauses fall in -with the stronger sense stresses and pauses, we have a pleasing sense of smoothness and regularity such as the poetry of Pope gives. Such poetry is not nectjssarily either better or worse than that more irregular versiticatif)n which yet sulHcicntly gratilies the sense of rhythm. Kach species is suited to the expres- sion of certain feelings or attitudes of mind. Fur example, examine the following two 2>assage8 Mhich exemplify the regular ar.d irregular treatment of the pentameter couplet. All are but pnrts of one stupendous whole, Whose body nature is, and Clod the soul ; Thi't, chanf,''d thro' all, and yet in all the same, Clreat in the earth, as in th' ethereal frame, Warms in the sun, refreshes in the hree/e, Glows in the stars, and hlossoms in the trees. Lives thro' all life, extends thro' all extent. Spreads undivided, operates uiisjieiit ; Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as jierfeot, in a hair as heart ; As fuU, as perfe(!t, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns : To him no hijj:h, no low, no jrreat, no small ; He fills, he bounds, comiects, and eijuals all. — Pope. We stood Looking upon the evening, and the flood Which lay between the city and the shore. Paved with the image of the sky. The hoar And airy Alps towards the north appeared Through mist — an heaven-sustaining bulwark reared Between the east and west ; and half the sky Was roofed with clouds of rich emblazonry. Dark purple at the zenith, which still grew Down the steep svest into a wondrous hue Urighter than burning gold, even to the rent Where the swift -sun yet paused in his descent Among the many -folded hills. They were Those famous Euganean hills, which bear. MKTUK AM) MS J< KLATION T< * TIIOlCJUT. Mil As seen from I.Ulo throii^'h thi nixiliour piles, The likt'iiesn of a cliiiiii) of |ttaki'il ihl'-n. And then as if the earth ami sea ha«l been Dissolved into one lake of fire, were seen Those mountains towerinjj, as froni waves of flame, Around the vaporous kuii ; from ^liich there i-.ww The inmost pur]ile spirit of li.,dit, and maoint. Shelley is more under the inlluenoe of feeling and mood, and the object of his expression is to kindle this emotional state in his reader. His metrical form is analogous to the instrumental accompaniment of a song ; Pope's to the emphasis and gestures of the orator. Relation of Metre and Matter in Poetry. — The more or less elabor- ate metrical devices of poetry combine to give pleasure to the ear independent of the thought conveyed. Tliis pleasure is a more potent factor in the enjoyment of {»oetry than one might at lirst be disposed to admit* ; and no great poet has ever been without extraordinary power of imparting this pleasurable rhythm to language. This pleasure is evidently analogous to that given by music, and the ear for poetic, as for musical efTects, varies greatly among individuals. The music of songs delights whether we catch the words or not, but enjoyment is greatly enhanced if we follow the sense and are conscious of an adapta- tion of the music to the thought ; so, in tiie case of poetry, tlu; metrical flow should in itself gratify the ear, and besides there ought to be per- ceptible fitness of rhythm to sense. Now, it is an established fact Ijoth that instrumental music stimulates and gives intensity to whatever ideas and emotions the hearer may associate the particular composition being jjerformcd, and also that the nature of the emotions and ideas vaiits, AV'thin limits, for diilVrent persons. In other words the signilicance and emotional tendency ■ A little observation will perve to reveal the evtraordinary tiatural siisceiitibility of men to rh.\ Ihiiiical effects ; the exciniiicnt iicobiccd b\' rh\ ihiuiial .-ouii'ls, t\iii whiii they are' iiot musical on unsophisticatid r.nfs (Sidiicy Laiiitr in his Srieiic uf Knijlixh ierni' >trikiimly illustrates this from what lie saw aiiioni,' nej^'ro s!a\ts) and I'liion I'bildriii ; the irresislil)k' ti iiikni'V to ^-roMjt mr)iiotonous sounds into rh\ thms (>ho\vn, forexami>le, in the case of the ticiiiii^' of clocks whii'li we hear as tick-t(irk\ ihoyiah it is really ^■(■^^ tick, tick, etc. ; shown, also, very fully by psycholo^.'-ic^al (.•\jicriment, cf. American Jdnriinl of I'syrholxjii, vol. ('., No.'J); the universal tendency io dancin^j ; the popular deliKhb in musio of which the rh.\ thni is st ron^dy u(!centuat('d ; t he c(jminon inability to listen to Buch music without in some fashion or other keeping' time, etc. XIV INTKOKl mON. of a givt.n arrangement of nnisical notes arc somewhat vague.* So with iioetic forms ; yet, althoii^li a given ili\ tlmi <»r stanza may have a very wiile application, still if a piopir jmet ic; fmin has Keen chosen for the expression of certain ideas ami fn ling, this form — its sensuous elFect upon the ear-will reinfoi-ei! the stimulus, the pleasure, the HUggestiveness of the thought c(»nveye(l. 'J'he range of ajiplication of a giveji poetic form is increased hy variety of treatment in detail, as is illustrated hy the ]>assages quoted aliove from I'ojx; and Sluslley ; for all sorts of sound-characters, length of syllaliles, ndnor pauses, etc., which are not iiulicated in the notations of j)ni.s(idy, have their efTect on the ear, and cumulatively this efl'cct m;iy be very great. Although the influence of the thought or feeling ujion the choice and treatment of ])oetic form is thus subtle and vague, rather to be felt than to l)e analyzcfl, yet some at least of the broader factors in the determination of the form may be pointed out. Determining factors in the choice of Poetic Lines. —It is mani- fest that a series of very short lines is likely to produce a monotonous and jerky effect ; just as, in prose, short sentences are inferior to long in dignity and in the scope they afford to vaiied cadence. Long lines woidd seem, then, in general nu)re suitable than short ones for the poet's pur]»oses. On the other hand there must be a limit to the length of the line ; for it is essential that the mind should withovit effort perceive that the same number of feet recur in successive lines. The eye can perceive at a glance that a series of groups each contain the same numl)er of objects, provided these objects be few ; l)ut if each group contained, e.tj., twenty-seven objects, the exact eipiality could only be determined by counting. So it is easy for the ear to ])erceive the regu- larity of a series: rnh-n-duli, rnh-d-duli, ruh-a-diih, duh-duh ; but if the ruh-a-did) were rei)eated, c.y. , twelve times before the close of the line the exact equality of such a series would not be forthwith apparent ; in other "words, the rhytlim M'ould not be felt. If the reader will make the experiment of increasing such a line, he will probably find that eight feet is the utmost limit at which the e(iuality of successive lines is accurately ])frce])ti))le. If a longer series l»e attempted it will be found to fall into suli-groupings, c.y. , of five and four feet, with a pause between tlnnn ; that is, the series falls into two lines. Hence it is that not only in English, but in other languages with which we are most familiar, poetic lines do not extend beyond eight, usually not beyond ♦This is illustrated by some experiments recorded in the American Journal of Ptiyrhi().ii'h tlio limit (trtin(j Yrar), where the longer and shorter lines are evidently employed for special effects. 'I his wide use indicates a special adaptability in lines of this length. In the lirst place, they are long enough to have a sonorous and varied cadence, yet are sullieiently far from the limit of length to be easily carried in the mind, 'J'hey are j)robably superior to the hexameter as containing an odd number of feet, and hence incaj)able of falling into the exactly corresponding halves, as the hexameter constantly does.* To titranutcrs they are manifestly superior in dignity and variety of rhythm. This is, in part, (bie to the fact that the pentameter is of such a length that there is almost always a fairly strong sense-pause within each line. This pause, which is called the cnefiurd, divides each line into two parts of varying length ; and the relation of these parts to one another, as regards the nund)er of syllables and the position of the stresses, gives variety to the line. These are ])oints which affect the line as a series of mere sounds, tho.t is, are considerations of a metrical and rliythmical character. But sound efTccts have certain relations to thought. For instance, lines in which trisyllabic feet occur are likely to suggest rapidity and lightness ; for as Dr. (luest says : " As there is al\\,tys a tendency to dwell on the accented syllable, C(tuty helow ; several, at least, of which nii^'ht he equally well re^'arded as two trimeter lines. % XVI INTRODUCTION. My Bfiiil is hcHft With Kriff and (lisiimy ; I Dwe a VHHt «l(ht Atid nothing' cun pay. On thu otlitT hainl, "as the ])r()nunciHti(>ii of an accent reqnires Borne niusculnr exortioii, a verso is gcnei-.-illy tlu; more em-r^'etic, the greater the nuin))er of its accents. " Hence a line l)otli heginiiing and ending with an accenteil syUahlo is suited for tlie ex[«resHi()n of force and activity (see /inatlirrd No. 10 in the Appendix). Sncli efrrctH and otlier kindred ones* may be ()l)served in Scott's fre(pu;nt variations on the normal tetrameter line; of iien out of his hand, , and to wiiie fur him i witii her own hare, j sheer | jtenet rating,' i>ower. | This arises ] from two causes : from the sincereness | with which | Wonlsworth feels | his suhject, | and also | from the pro. foundly sincere j and natural character | of the suhject itself.— .dr/ioW. Such divisions are dMubtless in many cases matters of individual feel- ing and vary with different readers. The points to be noted, however, are ( 1 ) that the voice thus naturally runs words into groui)S of from one or two to seven or eight syllal>les, and (2) that the average length of a group is about five syllables. Short lines, therefore, of two or three feet must, as a rule, have to consist each of a ]ihrasc, and successive lines of this length must usually contain succe.s.sive ecjual phrases. On the other hand, pentameters may conveniently contain two phrases of varying lengths giving rise to varying positions of the caesura, and are, further, sutiiciently long to admit an average clause. f Liglit is thrown ujjon the relative advantages of pentameter and hexameter, by Scott's plea for * See Guest's Ilistorij of Emjlish Rhythms, i)p. 162-1C8. t This is well illustrated in the smooth couplets of 18th century writers; see for example the extracts from Johnson in the Appendix, Nos. 4 and 5, Goldsmith's Deserted Village, Pope's works, etc. MKTUK AN!) ITS MKLATION T(» TIIOUiJMT. XVII lor the latter, even altliouj.'li his grtn-rjil contfiitiun cjinnot be nr ((Uiplet Oitroic vtrse), lie writes: — " I am Htill inclitK'il to ficfctid the ciu'litHyllftlilf Htanza, whith I liavf snmchnw j>er- siKult'd in\s('lf is iiiori' cnii^'i iiiaJ to the Kii^'lish liitiL;ii,'ii,'e- more f:i\<>iiralilf to nurra- ti\i' poolry at Icii'^i than that which has hciii comiiiuiiiy ttTiiud hiroir \t rsf. If \uii \\ ill take the Irc'iiMf to rfar's lllu'l, \i>\\ will timl |irol):ilily a >,'o(.(| many lines out of whii'h two nyllalih'H may It striirk wiihoiil injury to thf smsr. Thr tirst lines of this translation ha\ v hrtn ripratttUy noticed a.s capaMe of ln-in',' cut s of the line to fri|,'atts, 1)\ atrikin>j out th»! wiid 'wo syilaMcd words, um : ' Achilles wrath, to (Jrcecc, the illrf/ufHynug < If WOC8 umniinticrcil, hfarfitlii vjoddcss sini,'. That wrath whiih sent to IMuto'sy/oi.);/// reign 'Ilie souls of mi'jhtii chiefs in battle slain, NN'hose hones unhuried on the driuTt shore l>ev()urini,' do^'s aiid/iuui/ri/ vulture's tore.' Now sinci; it is true hy throwinj'' out the epithets imderscored, we preserve the sense without dimiiiishin'r the fone of the verse, I do eally think that the structure of verse which recjuires lea.st of this sort of holsleriiis;, is most likely tohefonihlc and animated. The case isdilTererit in ilescriptive jjoetry, hecuise these epithets, if Uiey are happily selected, are rat lu'r to he sought than avoided, and a,'e.sts, be made in I'ope's lines, they lose their impressive cadence ; it may also ]»e true that there is, in tlie pentameter, a certain roominess which, as Scott maintains, allows additions not absolutely needful to the sense ; but, then, most poetry elaborates Av.d ornaments, anreiudes to the cantos of Till' J. mil/ of t/ic Lak'i) has the advantage of Ix'ing long enough to adapt itself to the paragraph. It lends itself to the purjjoscs of the three poets named because, while the poems mentioned arc narratives, their excellence lies not in narration but leisurely description, and the roomy stanzas allow the needful accumulation of detail, and often form a series of pictures each, as it were, in its own frame. J I'he organic nature of ])oetic form is strikingly illustrated ])y the selection, for their romantic stories, of the most elal)orate and of the most simi>Ie narrative stanzas l>y Spenser and Scott respectively ; Spenser with his instinct for beauty, * Note for cxaiiiiilc the contrast in effect between the rhyniinj,' couplets with which the battle of Beal' an Duine oi>cnH {Laily of the Lake, VI, xv), and the quatrains which follow (1. 375) with their niai'kedly lyrical tone. t This is strikin^^ly illustrated in Dryden's Aiitivn Mirahilis, where a yreat master of versification is evidently lianiptrid l)y tlie use of this form for narrative purposes; Siott in his edition of Drydcn jioints out in detail how the lont; staniia forces the poet into "pa,'ra(;»', his houhuhhs ami iiH'iiitativf natiirr, tiiuls a lit inatrn- iiH-iit ill tlu) fonmr ; Scott witli Ins nim|ijirati\(( iiiMfii«iliility to tlx' moro Huhtlu aspcrtu «if tlio l«'i;itifiil, liis vi;;niir, liin love for activity aiiil inovuincnt, i8 drawn to tlu; tcrsur, swiftor, ami Hiiiii)U;r form. In exaiiiiiiiii^' the emotional intlueiice of atan/as, the etTects of tlilT»r« iil cuinliinatioiiH of rliynii's, of douhle rhyincs, of vai yin^^ tlie lfnj,'tljH of lintit U8 wtll a-4 of till! imivement of the line (iamhie, aiiapatstif, itc) slioiilil all he conHiiler«'(l. Korexainplc, when more than two line.s rhyme toj^etlu-r in sui'iTHsiiiM, a Hense of sustained fteliiit^ <>r thoiiL;lit is jnoilui-ed ; when this is broken at intervals hy Khoiter lines, a pantinj^ movement is the result well litted for the expression of the throlia of intense feeling. (See, for example, the imprecation of Urian, /-'/iif;/), hy a ..horter line (as in To Mij Sisdr), or a rhyming couplet (as in TlnSnlitani J'ki/k r aui\ To tho lift'. lh\ WonUvitrtli). In the case of a shorter line rhyminjj with a longer one, the mind involuntarily tills up the lacking heats, and the sense of pause is strongly intensilied.* At the opposite pole to the elahorato slan/as of ■which we have spoken, stands pentameter hlaidv virse, where there is neither rhyme nor stanza ; lience come a freedom and scoi)C ■which lit it for use in epic and other long narrative poems, and csj)ecially for the drama, where changt; of mood and sentiment are continual. On the one side, through ahstnce of rhyme and conse(pient weakt;ning of se})aration between line and line, blank vtjrse may be made to ap[)r()ximate to prose (as may be noted in certain parts of MxcIhwI); on tlie other, with skilfid harnlling it is capable of extraordinarily beautiful and vari< d rliythmic etFeets, espe- cially exemplilied in Paradhe Lost. liut on account of the absence <»f the charm of rhyme, and of the guidanct) aiforded l)y the more stringent rules of the stanza, no measure is so dillicult to use etl'ectively.t The Sonnet. — In the stanza we have a form which the poet may repeat indetinitely, but there also exist forms for a wiiole j)oem ; thus the * Tennyson's Palace of Art atrikint'ly illustrates thi>. t For an investigation into the f.'iftors of pfTcotivcnoss in tliis furni, see the writer's article on Blank Verse in the I'roceedinifs of the Ontario Educatiunal Associaliun. XX INTRODUCTION. thought is limited not only to a certain kind and arrangement, hut also to a fixed nunihcr, of lines. Sucli restrictidiis are so ])urdensome that suhstance and sincerity are likely to he saeriliced hy tlie poet, and the attention of the reader to he distracted from the weighty matters of thought and feeling to mere technical ingenuity. In English, at least, such forms — llondeau, Triolet, etc. —are but little used and are likely to degenerate into mere poetical toys. Tliere is one exception, however ; the Sonnet has been widely employed with great success by some of our greatest poets. Some line exemplars of it are to ))e found among the following Selections, and it "will be proper to state its struc- ture somewhat in detail. The Sonnet is a poem consisting of fourteen pentameter lines, and these lines are, by means of rhyme, combined in a certain fixed way. 'I he first four lines form a quatrain {i.e., a four-lined stanza), with the first and last lines rhyming, and also the second ami third. The next four lines also form a quatrain of exactly the same structure ; and these two quat- rains are united by having common rhymes. The rhyme-scheme nuiy therefore be represented as a b b a a b b a. * The eight lines ])eing thus linked togeth(;r are felt as a whole, and are called the octare. The remaining six li)ies, in a regular sonnet, are not connected by rhyme with the octave, but rhyme tugether in such a way as also to be felt as beU'nging to one another ; they are called the sestttte. The sestette c(m- tains three, or two, different rhymes; the arrangement of the rhymes is left very free, provided only the result be that the sestette is felt as forming a metrical whole, k^o, for example, with two rhymes a com- mon arrangement is d e d e d e ; or with three rhymes d e f d e f ; but the arrangement d e d e f f is not lield to be a good one in the regular sonnet ; because the final couplet is naturally felt as standing aj)art from the rest, and the sonnet loses its characteristic effect. In the regular fornx here described a great many beautiful poems have been wr tten, not merely in English, but in other European languages, espe- cially in I^alian, Avhere the sonnet originated. The sonnet, from the point of view of form, is, as compared with other poems, markedly a whole made up of parts. It has shape, as a (Jreek pillar, with its base shaft and capital, has shape. There is no reason in form why a poem written in couplets or stanzas should not "r^nt^'Hsh ]>oet8 take jjreat liberties with the form, and in some sonnets t lie arran>,'e- meiit of rhymes is dilliTenl ; hul the 'jnler j,nveii ahove is the accepted one, and is alao the most usual and, other things being equal, the most effectis e. ■ MF.THK AND ITS HF.LATION To THOUGHT. XXI ■ut Knj^lish writers, as already indicated, liave treated the form at times very freely, and departed even from these more general rules. One variant developed by Elizabethan writers and adopted l)y Slwikespcare, is so marked a deviation from the original as almost to constitute a dilFerent species of poem. Its structure is simple ; it consists of three (luatrains, each consisting of lines rhyming alternately, followed by a couplet. The rhyme scheme is, therefore, abab, c d c (L o f e f , g g. Looking at the form of this poem, one might either say it consisted either of four, or of two, parts. In prac- tice, the difference between the three quatiains on the one hand, and the couplet on the other is so conspicuous th:it the jioem seems naturally to fall rather into these two parts. The fust twelve lines are introduc- tory ; within these twelve lines the thought ni;iy or may not be progres- sive ; the last two lines contain the gist of the thought, the application or outcome of what has been given in the quatrains ; thej^ have the effect of climax or epigram. It very often happens, however, that the lirst eight lines are introductory, as in the regular sonnet ; the next four develop the thought towards the conclusion ; while the couplet drops in the keystone, as it were, which completes and holds together the whole, llegular sonnets have been compared, in their movement, to the rije and fall of a billow, to "a rocket ascending in the air, breaking into light, and falling in a soft shower of brightness." The Shake.:])earian sonnet, on the other hand, has been likened to a "red hot liar being mouhled upon a forge till — in the closing couplet— it receives the linul clinching blow from a heavy hannner. ""* *The following books may be mentioned as anion},' the most uf^eful on the subject of English metre: (Juest's IliKtari/ a/ Eiifjlixh llhiitlini.s, ScbipjH-r's Emjlische Metrik (two extensive and scholarly works, the latUr in German), Mayor's English Metre, Corson's Primer of Englinh Verse, Lanier's Science of Englitili Verse. i SCOTT. TflK LADY OF THE J.AKK. Canto First ight, nnet, il.led ;hiiig Harp of the North ! that iu(»ul(l(4'ni<,' loiii;' hast hunt; Oti the witch-ehii that sliailos St. F^illan's spring, And down the fitful ]>r('(;ze tliy minil)er.s Hung, Till envious ivy did around tho(; cling, Muiliing with verdant ringlet every string, — 5 O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep .' iVIid rustling leaves and fountains nuu'nuiring, Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep .' Not thus, in ancient days of Calcdon, 10 Was thy voice mute amid the festal ciowd. When lay of hopeless love, or ghny won, Aroused the fearful, or suhdued the j)roud. At each accoi'ding pause, was heard aloud Thine ardent symphony sublime and high ! 15 Fair dames and ci'ested chiefs attention l)ow'd ; ¥ov still the burden of thy minstrelsy Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and iJeauty's matciiless eye. O wake onc(» inoie I how I'ude soe'ei- the hand That ventures o'er thy m.igic ma/.(^ to stray ; ake tjnce more ! though scarce my skill command •JO o w Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay SCOTT. [Canto Though liarsh and faint, and soon to die away, And all unworthy of thy nol)ler strain, Yet if one heart throl) higher at its sway, 25 The wizard note has not })een touch'd in vain. Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again ! I. The staLj at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on IMonan's rill, And deep liis midnight lair had made .SO In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, The deep-mouth'd bloodhound's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way, 35 And faint, from farther distance l)oine, Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. II. As Chief, who hears his warder call, " To arms ! the foemen storm the wall," The antler'd monarch of the waste 40 Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-di'ops from his flanks he shook ; Like crested le.-ider proud and high, Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky ; 45 A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment snuffd the tainted gale, A moment listen'd to the ciy. That thicken'd as the chase drew ni<;h ; Then, as the headmost foes appear'd, 50 With one brave Ijound the copse he clear'tl, And, stretcliing f(.rward free and far. Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. Canto I-] TlIK LADY OF THK LAKE. 25 i 30 35 40 in. Yoird on the view the openiiii^ pack ; liock, glen, and cavern, paid tlieni back ; To many a mingled sound at once The awaken'd mountain gave response. A hundred dogs l)ay'd deep and strong, Clatter'd a hunch'ed stee(ls along. Their peal the merry horns lUJig out, A hundred voices join'd the shout; With haik and wh(K)p and wild halloo. No rest IJenvoii'lich's echoes knew. Far from the tumult lied the roe, Close in her covert cower'd the doe, The falcon, from her cairn on high, Cast on the rout a wondeiing eye. Till far Ijeyond her piercing ken The hurricane had swept the glen. Faint, and more faint, its failiug din Return'd from cavern, cliif, and linn. And silence settled, wide and still. On the lone wood and mighty hill. 55 60 65 70 IV. 45 50 Less loud the sounds of silvan war Disturh'd the heights of Uam-Var, And roused the cavern, where, 'tis told, A giaiit made his den of old ; For ere that steep ascent was won, High in his pathway hung the sun, And many a gallant, stay'd perforce. Was fain to ])i-eathe his faltering horse. And of the trackers of the deer, 75 80 SCOTT. [Canto Sc.'iii'cc half the lessoning ])aek was near ; So shrewdly on the mountain side, Had th(! bold hui'st their mettle tried. 85 V. The noV)le stag was pausing now Upon the mountain's southern hi'ow, Where broad extended, far Ijeneath, The varied realms of fair jNIenteith. With anxious eye he wahder'd o'er 90 IVIountain and meadow, moss and moor, And ponder'd refuge from his t(jil, liy far Lochai'd or Aberfo^'lo. But nearer Mas the copse wood grey, That waved and wept on Loch-Achray, 95 And mingled witl; tins })ine-trces blue On the bold cliffs of lien venue. Fresh vigour with the hope return "d. With flying foot the heath he spurn'd, Held westward with unwearied race, 100 And left behind the panting chase. VI. 'T were long to tell what steeds gave o'er, As swept the hunt through Cam])us-more ; What reins were tigh^en'd in despair, When rose Benledi's ridge in air; 105 W^lio ilagg'd upon Bochastle s heath, AVho shunn'd to stem the flt)oded Teith, — For twice that day, from shore to shore, The gallant stag swam stoutly o'vv. Few were the stragglers, following far, 110 That reach'd the lake of Yennachar ; And when the J3rigg of Turk was won, The headmost horseman rode alone. i Canto I] TUK LADV OF THK LAKE. VII. 85 90 95 100 105 110 Alone, l)iit with unhated zoal, 'I'liat horseman plied ihc! scourge 'ind steel ; 11.") For jaded now, and sjicnt wilii toil, Eniboss'd with foam, and dafk with soil, While every gasp with sohs he drew, I'lie lahouring stag sti-ain'd lull in \ iew. Two dogs of })lack Saint Hui)ert's hi-ccd, 1 L'U li^innatch'd for courage, hreatli, and speed. Fast on his flying traces came, And all hut won that desj)erate game ; For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, \'in(lictive toil'd the bloodnounds stanch ; \'2i) Nor nearer might the dogs attain, Nor farther might the cjiiarry strain. Thus up the margin of the lake. Between the precipice and brake. O'er stock and rock their race thev take. 130 VIII. The Hunter mark'd that mountain high, The lone lake's western boundarv, And dcem'd the stag must turn to bay. Where that huge ra5n})ai't barr'd the way ; i^ Iready glorying in the })rize, l.'J5 ]\Ieasured his antlers with his eyes ; For the death-wound and death halloo, iVEuster'd his bi'cath, his whinyard drew; — But thundering as he came prej)are(l, AVith ready arm and weapon bared, 140 The wily (piaiTV shunn'd tlu; shock, And turnM him from tlu; opposing rock ; Then, dashing down a darksome glen, SCOTT, [Canto Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken, In the d«M'p Trosachs' wildest nook 145 His solitary refuge took. There, while close couch'd, the thicket shed Cold dews and wild flowers on his h(;ad, Tfe heard the l)afHed dogs in vain Have through the hollow pass amain, 150 Chiding tlu* i"ocks that yell'd again. IX. Close on the hounds the Hunter came, To cheer them on the vanish'd game ; But, stumbling on the rugged dell, The gallant horse exhausted fell. 155 The impatient rider strove in vain To rouse him with the spur and rein, For the good steed, his labours o'er, Stretch'd his stiff limbs, to rise no more ; Then, touch'd with pity and remorse, IGO He sorrow'd oVr the expiring horse. " I little thought, when first thy rein I slack'd upon the banks of Seine, That Highland eagle e'er should fee! On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! 165 Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, That costs thy life, my gallant grey ! " Then through the dell his horn resounds, Frcmi vain pursuit to call the hounds. Back limp'd, with slow and crippled pace, Th.e sulky leaders of the chase ; Close to their master's side they press'd, With drooping tail and humbled crest : 170 Canto '■] THK LADY OF TIIK LAKE. U5 150 liut still the (lin;,'l(''s hollow throat Prolon<,''r which builders vain Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. The rocky sunnnits, split and i-ent, Form'd turret, dome, or battlement, Or seem'd fantastically set With cupola f)r minai-et. Wild crests as pagod ever deck'd. Or mosque of Eastern architect. Nor wen^ these earth-])orn castles bare, 185 190 195 200 8 SCOTT. Nor liick'd tlicy many u Ikiimu'I' f;iir ; I''or, fVoni tli<'ir sliiNcrd brows displ.-iyM, l*';u' o'er \\\i' iiiit'jit lioiiiul)l<> ^'ludc, All t \s inkliiijLi; with tln^ dewdrop shocri, The brier-rose fell in strcuiuors ^'n^cii, And ('rooj)iMg .slirul)s, of tliousuTid dyes, Wiived in the wcst-wiiid's summer sigiis. [Canto 205 L'lU XII. lioon nature scatter'd, free and wild, Each plant or tiowcr, tlu; mountain's cijihJ. Heili ei^lantim; einbalin'd the ail*, Hawthorn and ha/el iiiin^le(l th( I'e ; 215 The prinu'ose pahi and violet llower, Found in each cleft a narrow l)ow(u- ; Fox-'dovo and nii^ht-shade, side; by side, Eml>lenis of punishment and pride, (irroupM their dark hues with every stain 220 The weathei'-])eaten ci'ags retain. With boui^hs that (juakecl at every l)reath, (Ire; liirch and asj)en wept Ijene .th ; Aloft, the ash and \vari-i»n' oak Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; 225 And, higher yet, the pine-tree liung His shatter'd trunk, and frecjuent flung, Where seem'd the clilfs to meet on high, His bouglis athwart the iiarrow'd sky. Highest of all, wliei't; white peaks glanced, 230 Wher(? glistiiing streamers waved and danced. The wandci'crs eye could Ijarely view Hie summer ]iea\ en's delicious blue ; So woiuli'ous \\ild, tlu^ whole might seem The scenery of a fairy (h-eam. 235 !anto uur) I.] •J 10 215 220 THK LADY OF Till; I-AKK. XIII. Onw.'ird, .'iniid tin,' copse Van prep A UiUTow inlt't, still fiinl deep, Afloi'din^ scai'c*? sucji hrcadlh «»f l)iiin As served tlu; wild ducks brix. ^ to swim. liOst for .'I space, tlii(MiL,di thick, 'ts vt?oriiig, l)iit Itfoadcr wjicii again appcai'ing, Tall rttcks and tnt'ted knolls their face Could on the dark-hluo minor tifice ; And farther as the Hunter stray'd, Still l)road(!r sweep its channels made. Tin; shaggy mounds no longer stood, Knu'rging fi'oin entangh'd wood, Jiut, wave-encii'cled, seem'd to float, Like casth^ gii'dled with its moat ; Yet broader ilood.s extending still Divide them from tlieir parenl liill, Till each, retiring, claims to ]>e All islet in an inland sea. 9 210 21.-) 250 \iv, 99fS 230 23;') And now, to issue from the glen, No pathway me(!ts the wanderer's ken, Unh'ss lu; climb, with footing nice, A far projecting prei'ipice. The bi-oom's touLjli roots his laddei* ma(l(\ The hazel saj)lini;s lent their aid : And thus an airy point lit; won, A\'here, gleaming with the sotting sun, One burnishVl slu'ct of living gold, J.och Katrine lay beneath him roH'd, In all hor length far winding lay, With promontory, creek, and bay, 255 2 GO 2G5 \ 10 i SCOTT. And islands tlmt, rmjmfpliMl l»ri;^lit, Floated amid tlu^ lixrlirf li.:,'lit, And mountains, tliat like t^iants stand, To sentinel ondianled land. Hi.d. tl 1 on tnu sou th, 1 lU-'O B vnvcnue [t' \NTo |)own to tlio lak'o in masses threw Crat; feather'd o'er His ruin'd sides and summit hoar, While on the nortli, throULjli middle air, 13en-an lieaNcd hi,L,di his f'oichead hare. 270 27.') XV. Fi'om tlie steep ])i'oniontory f^azed The stranger, raj)tui'e(l and amazed, And, " What a :. (nio wei'C here," he eried, 2S0 " For i)rineely j)omp, or churchman's pride ! On this hold ])row, a lordly towei- ; In that soft val(>, a lady's bower; On yonder ni(\'idow, fa* away, The turrets of a cloister gray ; 285 How Idithely might tlu^ hugle-horn Chide, on tlu^ lake, the lingering morn ! J low sweet, at eve, tho lover's lute Chim(% when the groves were still and mute ! And, when the midnight moon sliould lave 290 Her forehead in the silver wave, How solemn on tlu; ear would come Tho hol}^ matins' distant hum, AVhiU^ the deep peal's commanding tone Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 295 A sainted hermit fi'om his cell, To drop a bead with every knell — [Cant To 270 urlM, (\, 280 le! 285 ite! e 290 295 \ a -s: u o IJ TIIK LADY OF THK LAKE. 11 And but^U', lute, and boll, and all, SIkjuUI each ])e\vilder'd stranger call To friendly feast, and lighted hall. .SOO i '■O "s •2J XVL " lilitli3 wore it then to wander here ! But now, — heshrow yon nimble deei-. Like that same heiniit's, thin and spare. The copse must give my evening fare ; Some mossy }}ank my couch nnist be. Some rustling oak my canopy. Yet pass we that; the war and chase Give little choice of resting place ; — A sunnner night, in greenwood spent, Were but to-morrow's men-inicnt : But hosts may in these wilds abound, Such as are better miss'd than found ; To meet with Highland plundorei's hei-e Wore worse than k)ss of steed or deer. — 1 am alone ; — my })ugle strain May call some straggler of the train ; Or, fall the worst that may ])etido. Ere now this falchion has been trietl." 305 310 315 XVI 1. But scarce again his Ik? "n he wound, When lo ! forth starting at the sound, From undorneatli an aijed oak, That si iitod from the islet rock, A damsol guidor of its way, A littl(> skill' shot to the bay, That round the pi'omontory steep Jjod its (loop luu^ in graceful swoop, 320 325 12 SCOTT. [Canto Kddying, in almost viowless wave, The \vo('])iiig willow twig to lave, And kiss, with whispering sound and slow, The beach of pebbles ])right as snow. 330 The boat had touch'd this silver strand, .J list as the Hunter left his stand. And stood cf)nceard amid the brake, To view this Lady of the Lake. The maiden paused, as if again 335 She thought to catch the distant strain. With head u}) raised, and look intent. And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back, and li})S apart. Like monument of Grecian art, 340 In listening mood, she seem'd to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand. XVIII. ! -. And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form, or lovelier face ! 345 What though the sun, with ardent frown. Had slightly ting(Ml her cheek with brown, — The sportive toil, which, short and light. Had dyed her glowing hue so bright. Served too in hastier swell to show 350 Short glimpses of a breast of snow : What tlioui>h no I'ule of courtly grace To measured mo(jd had train'd her j)ace, — A foot ]\u>n) light, a step more true. Ne'er from the heath (lower dasli'd the dew ; 355 E'en the slight harebell raised its head, Elastic from her airy tread : 1 1 ■■ Canto ■ V '■■ T.] THE LADY OF THE LAKE. What tliotigli u})()ii luT speech then* liiing The accents of tlie niouiitaiu t<>ii,i,'Ut>, — Those silver sounds, so soft, so deal', 13 360 330 i The list'ner lield liis ))reath to hear ! XIX. A chieftain's daughter seeni'd tlio maid ; 335 ; Her satin snood, her silken plaid, Her golden l^rooch such hirth betray "d. 1 And seldom was a snood amid 365 i Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, ,; Whose glossy l)hick to shame might hi-ing 340 i, ■i The plumage of the raven s wing ; Ami seldom o'er a l)reast so fail-. \ '. i ]\[antled a plaid with UKtdest care. 370 ' And never l>i-ooch the folds conihined Above a heart moi-e good and kind. Her kindness and her woi'th to spy, i You need but g;ize on Kllcn's eye ; '\ Not Katrine, in her mij-ror blue. 6r.) 345 Gives l)ack the .shaggy l)anks more ti-ue, ;\ Tlian every free-boi-n glance confessM 1'. The guileless movcMuents of her breast ; Wiiether joy danced in her dai-k eye. 1^ Or woe or pity claim'd ;i sigh, 380 350 Or filial love was glowing there, Or meek devotit)n pour'd a prayer, Or tale of injuiy call'd forth The indign;int spirit of the North. One only passion unreveal'd, 385 355 With maiden pride the maid conceal'd, 4 Yet not less purely felt the flame ; — I need I tell that passion's name ! u 14 SCOTT. [Canto XX. I ^ rmpatient of the silent liorn, Now on tlie gale her voice was borne : — 390 " Father ! " she cried ; the rocks around Loved to prolong the gentle sound. A while she paused, no answer came, — " Malcolm, was thine the blast?" the name Less resolutely utter'd fell, 395 The echoes could not catch the swell. *' A stranger I,' the Huntsman said, Advancing from the hazel shade. The maid, alarm'd, with hasty oar, Pusli'd her light shallop from the shore, 400 And when a space was gain'd between, Closer she drew her bosom's screen ; (So forth the startled swan would swing. So turn to prune his ruffled wing). Then safe, though flutter'd and amazed, 40o She paused, and on the stranger gazed. Not his the form, nor his the eye. That youthful maidens wont to fly. xxi. On his bold visage middle age Had slightly press'd its signet sage, 410 Yet l:ad not quench'd the open truth And fiery vehemence of youth ; Forward and frolic glee was there. The will to do, the soul to dare, The spai'kling glance, soon blown to fire, 415 Of hasty love, or headlong ire. His limV)s were cast in manlv mould, For hardy sports or contest bold ; [Canto I] THK LADY OF TlIK LAKE. 16 390 ne 395 And thougli in jjoaceful garb array'd, And weaponless, exee})t his blade, 420 His stately mien as well inij)lied A high-born heart, a martial pride, As if a Baron's crest he wore, And sheathed in armour trodc the shore. Slighting the petty need he show'd, 425 He told of liis ])enighted I'oad ; His 'Nidy speech tlow'd fair and free, In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; Yet seem'd that tone, and gesture bland, Less used to sue than to command. 430 400 xxn. 405 410 415 A while the maid the stranger e3'ed, And, reassui"ed, at length replied, That Highland halls wei-e open still To wilder'd w^anderers of the hill. " Nor think you unexpected come 435 To yon lone isle, our desert liome ; Before the heath had lost the dew, This morn, a couch was pull'd for you. On yonder mountain's purple head Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, 440 And our ])road nets have swept the mere, To furnish forth your evening cheer." — " Now, by the rood, my loNcly maid, Your courtesy lias err'd/' he said ; *'No right have T to claim, misplaced, 445 The welcome of exjiected guest. A wanderer, here by fortune tost, My way, my friends, my courser lost, T ne'er before, believe me, fair, 16 SCOTT. [c. .NTO ]I;i\ o evei" druwn your mountain air, Till on tins lake's romantic stivind, T found a fay in faiiy land ! '" — 450 XXIII, " r well believe,"' the maid replied, As lier light ,';kifT approach'd the side, — "I well believe, tliat ne'er before 455 Your foot has trod Loch Kati'ine's shore ; liut y(;t, as far as yesternight, Old Allan-bane foretold your plight, — A grey-hair'd sire, whose eye intent Was on the vision'd future bent. 460 He saw your steed, a dappled grey, Lie dead beneath the birchen way ; Painted exact your form and mien. Your hunting suit of Lincoln green. That tassellM horn so gaily gilt, 465 That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, That cap with heron plumage tiini, And von two hounds so dark and grim. He bade that all should ready })e, To grace a guest of fair degree ; 470 Hut light I held his prophecy, And deem'd it was my father's luji'n, Whose echoes o'er the lake were l)orne." X.VIV. The stranger smiled : - "Since to your liorae A destined errant-knight ] como, 475 Announced by prophet s(M)th and old, Dooin'd, doubtless, for achievement bold, I'll lightly fr<.>nt each high emprise, [Canto 450 I.] 455 460 465 470 le 475 TMK LADY (»F Till: LAKK. 17 For one kind glatn'c of tliost; l)i'ii,'ht oyos. Poniiit nic, iivst, the task t(» <,'ui(le 480 Your faiiy frii^ate o'c^r tlio tido." The maid, with sinilo suppi-css'd and sly, Tlie toil unwonted saw liini try ; For seldom sui-e, if e'er Ijefore, His nol)le hand liad i^M'asp'd an oai* : 485 Yet with main streni;tli liis strokes lie drew, And o'er the lake tlu^ shallop ilew ; With heads erect, and whiin})erin;j; cry, The hounds behind their passan;e ply. Nor frecjuent does the blight oar break 490 The darkening mirror of the lake, Until the I'ocky isle they reach, And moor their shallo[) on the beach. \\v. The stranger view'd th(! shore around ; 'Twas all so close; with copsewood bound, 495 Nor track nor pathway might declare near, (Juards nor warders challenge! hero, G45 Here's no war-steed's neigh and cham|)ing, Shouting clans or sijuadrons stamping.'' XXXII. She paused — then, l)lushing, led the lay 'J'o grace the stranger of tlu^ day. H<'r mellow notes awhile prolong G50 The cadence of the ilowing s(mg, Till to her lips in measured frame The minstrel verse s})ontaneous came ^ong continucb. " Huntsman, rest I thy chase is done, AVhile our slumbrous spt^lls assail ye, G55 Dream not, with the rising sun, lUigles here shall sound reveille. Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; [Canto n.'iO i.J G35 OiO G45 G50 055 TIIK LADY <»K THK LAKK. Sl«»«'|) ! tljy lioimds nvo. l»y tlio»» Iviug : SN'j'p ! nur (li»*.im in yoiulor ;,'l«'rt, ll«»\v thy g.illfiiit Ht('«'«l 1,'iy dyiiii,'. I luiitsiiiiin, rest! tliy tliusp is done, Tliink not of ilu- risin<,' sun, Fof ;it da\vnin;( to assjiil v«', Hero no huglt's sound rnveillw." XXXIII. Tlu' liiill was ck'iUH'il — tli«' sti'an^tTs Ix'd Was thei'o of mountain licatlicr s|»t('ad, Where oft a hundred guests had lain, And (hoani'd their fofest sports again. J>ut vainl V did tlie lieatli-tlower shed Its moorland fragMjince round his head ; Not Ellen's spell had lull'd to rest The fever of his troubled breast. In broken di'eams the imai;e rose Of d varied peinls, j)ains, and \V(»es 1 •J3 660 665 670 675 His steed now flounders in the brake, Now sinks his ]»arg(^ upon tlu^ lakt; ; Now leadei" (»f a bi-oken host, His standard falls, his honour's lost. Then, — from my etiueh may heavenly might G^O Chase that worst phantom of the night ! — Again return'd the scenes of youth, Of confident unditubting truth ; Again his soul he interchanged AVith friends whose hearts were long estranged. 685 They come, in dim procession led, The cold, the faithless, and the dead ; As warm each hand, each brow as gay, As if they parted yesterday. And doubt distracts him at the view — 690 24 SCOTT. O were his senses false or true ? Dreamed lie of death, or broken vow, Or is it all a vision now? [Canto XXXIV. At length, with Ellen in a grove He seeni'd to walk, and speak of love ; 695 She listen'd with a blush and sigh, His suit was warm, his hopes were high. He sought her yielded hanfl to clasp, Aird a cold gjiuntlet met his grasp : The phantom's sex was changed and gone, 700 Upon its head a helmet shone ; Slowly enlarged to giant size, With darken'd cheek and threatening eyes, The grisly visage, stern and hoar, To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 705 He woke, and, panting with affright, Recall'd the vision of the night. The hearth's deca3'i ng l)rands were red. And deep and dusky lustre shed, Half showing, half concealing, all 710 The uncouth trophies o^ the hall. ]\Iid those the stranger fix'd his eye Where that huge falchion hung on high. And thouglits on thoughts, a countless throng, Rush'd, chasing countless thoughts along, 715 Until, the giddy whirl to cure, He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. XXXV. The wild rose, eglantine, and broom. Wasted around their rich perfume : The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm, 720 [Canto I-] THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 25 695 700 705 710 The aspens slept beneatli tlie calm ; The silver light, with <{uivering glance, Play VI on the water's still expanse, — Wild wore the heart whose passion's sway Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 725 He felt its calm, that warrior guest, While thus he communed with his breast : — " Whv is it at each turn I trace Some memory of that exiled race ? Can T not mountain-maiden spy, 730 But she must bear the Douglas eye 1 Can I not view a Highland brand, But it nuist match the Douglas hand 1 Can I not frame a fever'd dream, But still the Douglas is the theme ] 735 I'll dream no more, — by manly mind Not even in sleep is will resign'd. My midnight orisons said o'er, I'll turn to rest, and dream no more." His midnight orisons he told, 740 A prayer with every bead of gold, Consign'd to heaven his cares and woes, And sunk in undisturb'd repose ; Until the heath-cock shrilly crew. And morning dawned on Ben venue. 745 t>ng, 715 720 26 SCOTT. [Canto CANTO SP]COND. The Eslanb. I. At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 'Tis morning prompts the linnet's l>lithest lay, All Nature's children feel the matin spring Of life reviving, with reviving day ; And while yon little bark glides down the bay, i Wafting the stranger on his way again. Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel grey. And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy stiviin, Mix'd with the sounding harp, O white-hair'd Allan-bane ! II. " Not faster yonder rowers' might 10 Flings from their oars the spray. Not faster yonder rippling l)right, That tracks the shallop's course in light, Melts in the lake away. Than men from memory erase 15 The benefits of former days ; Then, stranger, go ! good speed the while. Nor think again of the lonely isle. " High place to thee in royal court. High place in battle line, 20 Good hawk and hound for silvan sport ! Where beauty sees the bra^■e resort, The honour'd meed be thine ! True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, [Canto II.] 5 ■Ijano ! 10 15 20 THE LADY OF TIIK LAKE. 27 Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, 25 And lost in love's and friendships smile Be memory of the lonely isle. III. lai(h'd stranger roam, Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, 30 And sunken cheek and heavy eye, Pino for his Highland home ; Then, warrior, then be thine to show The care that soothes a wanderer's woe ; Remember then thy hap ere while, 35 A stranger in the lonely isle. " Or if on life's uncertain main ^Mishap shall mar thy sail ; If faithful, wise, and brave in vain. Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 40 Beneath the fickle gale ; Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, On thankless courts, or friends estranged, But come where kindred worth shall smile. To greet thee in the lonely isle." 45 IV. As died the sounds upon the tide, The shallop reach'd the mainland side, And ere his onward way he took, The stranger cast a lingering look, Where easily his eye miglit reach 50 The Harper on the islet beach. i 28 SCOTT. [Canto Reclined against a Ijlighted tree, As wasted, grey, and worn as he. To minstrel meditation given. His reverend brow was raised to heaven, As from the rising sun to claim A sparkle of inspiring flame. His hand, reclined upon the wire, Seem'd watching the awakening fire ; 80 still he sate, as those who wait Till judgment speak the doom of fate ; So still, as if no breeze might dare To lift one lock of hoary hair ; So still, as life itself were fled In the last sound his harp had sped. 65 60 66 V. rv Upon a rock with lichens wild, Beside him Ellen sate and smiled. — Smiled she to see the stately drake Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, While her vex'd spaniel, from the beach, Bay'd at the prize beyond his reach ? Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows, Why deepen'd on her cheek the rose 1 — Forgive, forgive, Fidelity ! Perchance the maiden smiled to see Yon parting lingerer wave adieu. And stop and turn to wave anew ; And, lovely ladies, ere your ire Condemn the lieroine of my lyre. Show me the fair would scorn to spy, And prize such conquest of her eye ? 70 76 80 i^i ,i II.] THE LADY OF THt: LAKE. 29 VI. While yet lie loiter'd on the spot, It seem'd as Ellen nuickd hiiii not ; But when he tiu-ned him to iho- irlade, One courteous parting sign she made ; 86 And after, oft the knight would say, That not when prize of festal day Was dealt him hy the brightest fair Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, So highly did his bosom swell, 90 As at that simple mute farewell. Now with a trusty mountain guide, And his dark stag-hounds by his si«le, He parts, — the maid, unconscious still, Watch'd him wind slowly round the hill ; 95 But when his stately form was liid, The guardian of her bosom chid, — " Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid ! " 'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said,— "Not so had Malcolm idly hung 100 On the smooth phrase of southern tongue ; Not so had ]\[alcolm strain'd his eye. Another step than thine to spy. Wake, Allan-bane," aloud she cried To the old ISIinstrel by her side, — 105 " Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! I'll give thy harp heroic theme, And warm thee with a noble name ; Pour forth the glory of the Gneme I " Scarce from her lips the word had rush'd, 110 When deep the conscious maiden blusli'd ; For of his clan, in hall and bower, Young Malcolm Gramme was held the flower. SCOTI [Can'1 ro VII. Tho minstrel wukod his liarp, — three times Arose tlie well-kiioNvu martial chimes, 115 And tlirice tlieir !ii;^li lieroiu pride In melanclioly muinnirs died. "Vainly thou l)i(rst, O nohle maid," Clasping his withri-'d hands, he said, *' Vainly thou })id'st me ^vake the strain 120 Though all unwont to bid in vain. Alas ! than mine a mightier liand Has tuned my harj), my sti'ings has spann'd ! I touch the chords of jov, l)ut low And mournful answer notes of woe ; 125 And the proud march, which victors tread, Sinks in Uu) wailinij for the dead. O well for mc, if mine alone That dirge's rs lay as tiiiiH;. And thou for suitors proud und liiijli. To bend ))efore my coiKjucrini; eye, — 210 Thou, thittorini,' hard ! thyself wilt say, That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpines ])ride. The terror of Locli-Loniond's side, Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 215 A Lennox foray — for a day," — XII. 190 f 195 200 The ancient hard her glee repress'd : " Til hast tliou chosen tluMiie for jest I For who, through all this western wild. Named IJlack Sir lloderick e'er, and smiled ! 220 Tn Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; T saw, when l)ack the dirk he drew. Courtiers give place l)ef()re the stride Of the undaunted homicide ; And since, though outlaw'd, hath his hand 225 Full sternly kept his mountain land. AVho else dare give— ah ! woe tlu^ day That T sucli hat<'d truth should say — The Douglas, like a stricken deer, Disown'd hy excry noble peer, 2150 Even the rude refuge we have hercl Alas, this wild m;i lauding Chief Alone might hazard our ivdief, And now thy maiden charms expand, Looks for his guerdon in thy haml ; 2.35 3 M S(;OTT. [(!anto l*'rill soon Tjwiy dispotjsatioii soui^lit, To I);m k liis suit, fi'oin lioiiu! Ix' ln'ou^rht. 'riicn, tliou^li Jill exilo on tlu; Iiill, Tliy fullicr, us tli<5 Dou^^'las, still lie 1h;1(1 ill reverence and fear ; 240 And tliou^di to Iloderick thou 'rt so dear, That thou nii^ht'st guide; witii silken thread, Slave of thy will, tins ehieftain dread ; Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! Thy hand is on a lion's mane." — 245 XIII. "Minstrel," the maid replied, and high Her father's sold glanced from lier eye, " Aly d(!l)ts to Rixlerick's house I know : All that a mother could bestow, To \itu\y JNIargai'et's care I owe, 250 Since first an orphan in the wild She sorrow'd o'er her sister's child ; To her l)ra\e chieftain son, from ire Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, A deeper, holier de])t is owed ; 255 And, coidd 1 jtay it with my l)lood, Allan I Sii- Roderick should command jNIy ])]ood, my life — but not my liand. Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell A votaress in JMaronnan's cell ; 260 RatluM" through realms beyond the sea, Seeking the world's cold charity, Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 265 Than wed the man she cannot love. [Canto II.J THK LaKV OI' THK LAKK. :\'t XIV 240 1, 245 250 255 260 265 " Tlioii sliak'st, ^(»o(l tVi«'ti(l, thy ti'«\ssps ^rt'V, — 'riial jdradiiii,' l(»(»k, what can it say But what I own ! -I ^'raiit him hravo, But wild as JJracklinii's tliuiuhMini,' wavt'; 270 And i^cncrous, — save vindictive niuod, Ov jealous ti'ansport, chafe his blood : I <^rant him true to friendly hand, As his claymore is to his hand ; But O I that vei'v hlade of steel 275 Moi'e mercy for a foe would feel : T ^'rant him liheral, to lling Amoiii,' his clan the wealth they hrin^', When back by lake and glen they wind, And in the Lowland leave behind, 28U Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, A mass of ashes slaked with blood. The liand that for my father fought, I lionour, as his daughter ought ; But can T clasp it reeking red, 285 From peasants slaughter'd in their shed I No ! wildly while liis virtues gleam. They make his passions darker seem. And Hash along his spirit high, Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 290 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 sabk })lume ; A maiden grown, I ill could bear 295 His haughty mien ami lordly .lii' : But, if thou join'si a suitor's claim. In serious mood, to Roderick's name, J 30 HCOTT. [Canto T (liiill willi ;int,'iiisli I or, if e'er A I >(»ii;^lfis kiH'W llm \vui«l, with fcir. .'{00 To c'liau^^'t? Slltli o tlio loiii^'tlHMrd l;ik(> worn spird Four (hirkciiiii^' specks u|n»n the tide, TliHt, slow onl.ir^'iiig on tho view, Four iii.'inird and masted l)ai'i,'es grew, And, ])eaiing dowiiwai'ds from (Jlengyle, Steer-'d full upon the; lonely isle; Tho point of lirianehoil tliey pass'd. And, (o tlio ^vindward as they cast, Against t'/io siiu they gave to shinn Tho bold Sir lioderiek's ])annei''d Pine. Neai'cr and nearer as they hear, Speai's, ])ikcs, and axes Hash in iiir. Now might you seo tln^ tai'tans hrave. And plaids and pliimago danco and wave : Now see the bonnets sink and rise, As his tough oar tho n wer plies ; Seo, ilasliing at each stunly stroke. The \vave ascending into smoke ; See the proud pipers on tho ])ow, And mark tho gaudy streamers tlow From their loud chanters down, and sweep The furrow'd bosom of the deep. As, rushing tln'(»ugli the lake amain, They plied the ancient Highland strain. :v.\'y :\\{) :\\r^ 350 s^n 330 XVII. Ever, as on they boi-e, more loud And louder rung tho pibnx-h proud At first tho rounds, l)y di^tanc*; tame, INlellow'd along tho Matei's cuiie, And, lingering long l)y cap(; and ba\', Wail'd every harsher note aN\'ay, 3:).") 3G0 ] ! 38 SCOTT. [Canto Tlioii bursting boldor on the car, The chill's slirill Gatl»ering they could licar; Those tlirilling sounds that call tlni iiiight Of Old Clan-Alp' le to the fight. Thick beat the rapid notes, as wlien 365 The mustering hundreds shake the glen, And liurrying at the signal dread. The ])atter'd earth returns their tn^iid. Then prelude light, of livelier tone, Express'd their merry marching on, 370 Ere peal of closing battle rose. With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows ; And mimic din of stroke and ward, As broadsword upon target jarr'd ; And groaning pause, ere yet again, 375 Condensed, the battle yell'd amain ; The rapid charge, the rallying shout, lletreat borne headlong into rout, And bursts of triumph, to declare Clan- Alpine's conquest — all were there. 380 Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow Sunk in a moan prolonged and low, And changed the conquering clarion swell. For wild lament o'er those that fell. XVIII. 'r The war-pipes ceased ; but lake and hill AV^ere busy with their echoes still ; And, when the y slept, a vocal strain l>ade their hoarse chorus wake a<;ain, AMiile loud a hundi'ed clansmen raise Their voices in their Chii^ftain's pi-aise. Kach boatman, bending to his oar, 3H.5 390 ;ant() •I] TlIK LADY OF TUK LAKK. 39 365 With measured sweep the l>ur(leii Imh-c, In such wild cadence as the l)i'ee/o Makes througli December's leafless tn-es. The chorus first could Allan know, " Roderick Yich Alpine, ho ! ii-o : " And near, and nearer as they row'd, Distinct the martial ditty llow'd. 39:) 370 375 380 3X5 390 XIX. Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! Honour'd and bless'd be the ever-green Pine ! 100 Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter find grace of our line ! Heaven send it happy d(;w, Earth lend it sap anew, (xaily to ])Ourgeon, and broadly to grow, 105 While every Highland glen Sends our shout ])ack again, " lloderigh Yich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " Ours is no sapling, chance-sown l)y the fountain, Blooming at IJeltane, in winter to fade ; HO AV'hen the whirlwind has stripp'd evei-y le;if on tin; mountain, The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her sliade. Moor'd in the rifted rock. Proof to the tempest's shock, Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; 415 INIenteith and ]>rea(lalbane, then, Echo his praise again, " lloderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho 1 ieroe ! " 10 SCOTT. [Canto i-\ XX. Proudly our pi})roeh lias thrill'd in Glen Fruin, And JinnnooliJif's groans to our slogan replied ; 4 20 (ri. Then nmst he seek Strath-Endrick glen, Nor peril aught for me again.'' 555 560 565 570 XXVII. Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, 585 Redden'd at sight of ^Malcolm (Jra'me, Yet, not in action, word, oi* eye, Fail'd aught in hospitality. In talk and sport they whiled away The morning of that sunnner day ; 590 But at hiyh noon a coui-ier lii'ht Held secret parley with the knight. Whose moody as])ect soon declai'cd, That evil were the news he heard. Deep thought seem'd toiling in his head ; 51)5 Yet was the evening ban(juet made, Ere he assembled round the llame, His mother, Douglas, an]'^;i>.a.iil talc;. 46 SCOTT. [Canto Long Willi liis (l;ii,'gor's liilt ho, playM, 'J'1h!Ii raised liis liauglity Ijrow, uiid said XXVI H. " Short 1)0 my speech ; — nor time affords, 605 Nor 111.' pl'xin tonipor, glozing words. !'.i) ijin and fath(;r, — it' such name J ''>;<■' vouchsafe to Roderick's claim ; INL.iC hoi , ''•'d mother : — Klleii — why, My cousin, turn away thine eye? — GIO And Gnuine ; in whom I hojie to know Full soon a noble friend or foe, When age shall give thee thy command, And leading in thy native land, — List all I — The King's vindictive pride 015 Boasts to have tamed the Jjorder-sidc, Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came To share their monarch's silvan g.'ime, Themselves in bloody toils were snared ; And when the ban(i[uet they prepared, 620 And wide their loyal jxirtals thing. O'er their own gattnvay struggling hung. Loud cries their blood from Moggat's mead, From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed, Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide, 625 And from the silver Teviot's side ; The dales, where martial clans did ride, Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. This tyrant of the Scottish throne, So faithless, and so ruthless known, 630 Now hither comes ; his end the same, The same pretext of silvan, game. AVhat grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye V>y fate of Border chivalry. Canto II.] 605 Tin-: I.ADV OP TIIK LAKE. ^'('t iii(»i'<^ ; amid ( llciirmlas" i^'iccii, J )u Hi,' I. -IS, thy .stately t'ofiii was -it'cii. This l>y espial suro I know : Your counsel in the .strciglit I slunv." XXIX. 47 635 GIO 615 ame 620 625 630 Ellen and Mai'garot foai-fully Sought comfort in each other's eye Then turn'd their ghastly look, ea« 'i < This to her sire, that to her son. The hasty colour went and can In the bold cheek of ]\ralcohn Gi-a : le But fi-oni his trl.'ince it well ap: ir 1. 'Twas but for Ellen that he fearVl ; While, sorrowful, but undismay'd. The Douglas thus his counsel said : — " Jirave Roderick, though the temp(!st roar, It ma}' but thunder and pass o'ei* ; 610 645 or wi 11 I 1 lere remain an Jioui N To draw the lightning on thy bower ; Eor well t\u)\i know'st, at this gri'y head The royal bolt were fiercest sped. For thee, who, at thy King's conunand, Canst aid him with a gallant band, Submission, homage, humbled pride, Shall turn the monarch's wrath aside. Poor remnants of the IJleeding Heart, Ellen and I will seek, apart. The refuge of some forest cell. There, like the hunted (juariy, dwell. Till on the mountain and the moor. The stern jmrsuit be pass'd and oer." — 650 655 6G0 ..V'*-^ 48 SCOTT. [c ANTO "No, l)y iiiiiic liMiKdir,"' Koflci'icls said, 605 "So liflp ]iu'. Ilciscti, and my foil'd king, fi'om pathless glen, ()90 Shall bootless turn him home again." XXXI. There are who have, at midnight hour, Fn slumber scaled a dizzy tower. And, on the verge; that beetled o'er ANTO ir.] Tin: LADY OF TlIK LAKK. 49 665 G70 075 680 685 690 Tlio ocoMii tide's imcssjuil ro.ir, 605 Droani'd calmly out tlicir daii'^'crous dn^am. Till wakcii'd l>y the iiioniiti^' heani ; A\'h('ii, da/./lcd Ity i\w. oastcni .i^low, Hucli stai'tlei- cast Ids gl;mc<' hrldw, And saw uiuucasurod depth .•iiound, 7n<» And hoard uniiitei-niit.ted sound, And thought the battled fvnvt' so frail, It wav(!(l like cc)I)NV(^I) in the galo ; — Amid his senses' giddy wheel, ])id he not despeiatc^ impulse feel, 705 Headlong to plungf^ himself Im'Iow, And meet the worse his fears foreshow "? — Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound, As sudden ruin yawn'd aroinid, By crossing terroivs wildly toss'd, 710 Still for the Doucrlas fearing most, Could scarce the desperate thought withstand, To buy his safety with her hand. xxxii. Such purpose dread could ]\ral('olm sj)y In Ellen's (quivering lip and eye, 715 And eager rose to speak — but ere; p[is tongue could hurry forth his fear, Had Douglas mai'kM the hectic strife. Where death seem"d combating with life ; For to her cheek, in feverish ilood, 720 One instant rusliM the throbl)ing blood, Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, Left its domain as wan as clay. "Roderick, enough ! enough !" he cried, " ]\ry daughter cannot be thy bride ; "25 Not that the blush to wooer dear 4 f" Maiiii no 730 735 740 SCOTT. [Canto NoC jLilciicss (ll.'ll of lil.'iidcil fell?*. If irijiy n<»t 1)(' -foi'i;iv(^ Iht, Cliii'f, Nor li;i/;inl uu;,'lit, tor our rrlicf. Ai;;iiiist, liis .sov( rciifn, |)oui^l;is lu^'cr Will ]ov<'l a rebellious sjtear. "Pw as I that tau,L,'lit liis youthful hand 'i'o rein a steed and wield a hi'aiid ; I s(!(! him yet, i\>v, ])riiieoly l)oy ! Not Kllen iiior(! my pride and joy ; I lo\o him still, despito my wrongs iJy hasty wratli, and slandeivtus tongues. () seek the j^rac(! you well may find, Without a cause to mine combined." XXXIII. Twice tl)rou<^li the hall the Chieftain strode The wavin<5 of liis tartans l)road, And darken'd brow, where wounded pride With ir«^ and disappointment vied, Seem'd, l)y the torch's gloomy light, Like the ill Demon of the iiight, Sti)oj)ing liis ])inions' shadowy sway rpon tin; nighted j)ilgrim's way : I Jut, unrecjuited Love ! thy dart }'lunge(l deepest its cnvenom'd smart, And lloderick, with thine anguish stung, At length the hand of Douglas wrung. While eyes that niock'd at tears before. With i)itter (h'ops were running o'er. The death-pangs of long-cherish'd hope Scarce in that ample l^reast had scope, J>ut, struggling with his spirit proud, Convulsive lieaved its che. 7r.u XXXIV Tlif) 74C l\i) 750 755 Then Uodorick from tlio Douuhis ))rok(' — As tl.'islies tlfiiiK^ throu^'h sahic^ siiutkc, Kiri(lliii<^ its wrcatliS, loiii,', daik, and low, To one l)ioad l)lazo of ruddy ^'low, So the deep anL^'iiisli of (1( sj>air liui'st, in iiei'ct! jealousy, to air. With stalwart grasp liis liand lie laid On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid ; " iJack, beardless l)oy ! " ho sternly said, " IJaek, mini(»n ! hold'st thou thus at nought Tiie lesson I so lately taught? This roof, th(^ Douglas, and that maid, Thank thou for punishment delay 'd.' 1{ iiger as greyhouiK d on 1 US I'ame Fiercely %viih liodej-iek gra])pl«'d (rneme. " Pei'isli my name, if aught afVord Its Chieftain safety save his sword ! " Thus as they strove, their desp(;ratr hand Griped to th(^ dagger or the bj'and, And death had ])een — but Douglas rose, And thrust ])etween the struggling foes His giant strength: — "Chieftains, forego I hold the first who strikes, my fo(^ — jVbidmen, forbear your frantic jar ! AVhat ! is the Dougla;^ fall'n so far, His daughtei-'s hand is deem'd the sj)oil Of such dishonourable broil ! " / (1.) 770 75 •80 785 790 52 SCOTT. [Canto Sullen and slowly, they unclasp, As stfuck with shame, thcif (Icsjx'ratc ijfasp, AikI (iach u|)<»n his ri\al ^Harcd, With foot advanced, and l)lad(^ half har'ed. XXXV. Ere yet the l)rands aloft were fluiiij^, 705 ]\Iari'a\e Douglas, -lovely Ellen, —nay, Naught here of parting will J say. ir.] THK LADY OF THE LAKK. 53 Earth does not hold a lonosonu' ijlon, So secret, but we meet again. — Chieftain ! we too shall find an hour," — 82.") He said, and left the silvan l>ower. XXXVI. C)]d Allan foilow'd to the strand, (Such w;is the J)ouglas's command,) And anxious told, how, on the morn. The stei'n Sir lloderick deep liad sworn, 830 The Fiery Cross should circle o'er iJale, glen, and valley, down, and moor. Much were the peril to the Gra-nie From those who to the signal canu^ ; Far up the lake 'twere safest land, 835 Ifimsfjlf would row him to the strand. He gave his counsel to the wind, While Malcolm did, unheeding, Ijind, Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roH'd, His ample })laid in tighten'd fold, 840 And stri})})\l his lind)s to such array, As best might suit the watery way, — XXXVII. Then spoke a})rupt : " Farewell to t ju'e, Pattern of old fidelity!" The ^[instrel's hand lie kindly j)ress'd, — ■ 84.") " O ! could 1 point a place of rest I My sovereign holds in wai-d my land, My uncle leads my ^•assal band ; To t.'unc; his foes, his friends to aid, Poor ]\Ialcolm has but heart a.nd blade. 8o0 Yet, if there be one faithful (Ira'ine ; t 54 S(.'OTT. [Canto AMio lovos thn fliioftaiii of liis iianio, N(jt loni^ sliall lioiioiii'd Doughis dwell, Like liniited stag in niouutaiii cell ; Nor, ero you pride-swoll'n roldx'i- daro, — 1 may not givo the rest to air ! Tell lloderick Dim, I owed liiin nought, Not tlio poor service of a l)oat. To waft me to yon mountain-side." Tlien plungeil he in the llasliiiig tide, l)<)\d o'er the ilood his head he hoi-e, And stoutly steer'd liim fi'oin iIh; shore ; And Allan strain'd his anxious eye, Far 'mid the Like ]\i.< form to spy. Darkening across each puny wave, To which the moon lier silver gave. Fast as the cormorant could skim, The swimmer plied each active limh ; Then landing in the moonlight dell, Loud shouted of Ins weal to tell. The Minstrel heard the far halloo, And joyful from the shore withdrew. 855 860 865 870 IIT.j THE LADY OF TIIK LAKK. bi) CANTO Tirn^!). Ulu (fathering. I. TiiiK^ rolls his ceaseless course. The i-ace of }<»r<', Who danced our infancy upon their knee, And told our niai-velling boyhood legends stoi-c, Of their strange ventures happ'd by land ov sea, How are they blotted from the tilings that ))c I How few, all weak and withei-'d of their foi-cc, Wait on the verge of dark eternity, Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning liM.iisr, To sweep them from our sight ! Time rolls his (•cas'lcs.s roursc 5 Yet live there still who can remember ^vell, 10 How, when a mountain chief his bugle blrw, Both field and forest, dingle, clitl', ami dell, And solitary heath, the signal knew ; And fast the faithful clan around him drew. What time the warning note wjis ke(>nly wound, 1 .'> What time aloft their kindred banner ilcw, ile clamon Wh ■ous war-[)ipes yell'd tlie gathei-ing sound, And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a luctror, ir.iind. II. The Sunnner dawn's reflected hue To purph; changed Loch Katriiic blue ; jMililly and soft the western bi-ce/.e Just kiss'd the lake, just stii-t'd flic trees, Aiul tlu; pleased l;dt And, lii.^li i'^ middle licfut'ii i-ccliiiccl, Witli lici' ])r(>;id shadow on (lie lukr, Silenced th«! \vai'])lor.s of the brake. 60 IV. A heap of witherM Ixjughs was piled, Of juni]K'i' and rowan nvIM, INIingli'd with shivers fi'oni the oak, Kent by the li''htnint and the plume. 1 10 Ail night, in this sad glen, the maid Brite, shroud(Kl in her mantle's shade : — She srJd, no she})herd sought her sid(;. No hunter';; hand her snood untied, Yg! nr'er ag.'un to Ijraid her hair 1 15 The • I'gin shoihI did Alice wear ; (lone vas lu!r maiden glee and s])<»rt, llei' maiden girdkj all too short. Nor sought slu , from that fatal night, Or holy church or blessed rite, 120 III.] •Jlli: I-.\1)V OF 'IHK LAKH. 5i) I>iit lock'd Ikt srci-(M ill li(M' l)r(';Lst, And (lied in ti';i\;iil, uuconfcss'd. VI. Al« one, iiinoiii,' liis youiiL,' eonipt'cr: IS l)i'i;iTi rrom his iiit;iiit ve;us A inoudv ;ind hejirt-lii-okcii 1m»v, Est d f til r;inenharrow's den. And hid him f rom the 1 launt s ot men. 12:) ;{() 1 35 140 145 VII. The desert gave him visions wild, Such as might suit the spectre's child. 150 ^swagnr a.-ix loibu jm. GO SCOTT. [Canto If ii« I I 1> Wlir-re witli ])lji('k dill's tli«3 ton-onts toil, He wulch'd tli(! wheeling eddies hoil. Till, fiorii their lojiiii, liis dazzled cyoH lielield tho llivor Demon rise ; 'i'lie inountfiiri mist took foi'iii and linil), 165 Of noontide hag, oi' gohlin grim ; The midiught wind came wild and drciad, ►S\\ ell'd with the voices of the dead ; Fur on the future battle-heath His eye beheld tho ranks of death : IGO Thus the lone Seer, fi'om mankind hurl'd, Shaj)ed forth a disembodied world. One lingering sympathy of mind Still bound iiim to the mort.d kind ; Tho only parent he could claim 165 Of ancient Alpine lineage came. Late had he heard, in })rophet's dream, The fatal Ben-Shie's boding sci-eain ; Sounds, too, had conio in midnight l)last, (Jf charging steeds, careering fast 170 Along Benharrow's shingly side, Where mortal horsenjan ne'er might ride ; The thunderbolt had split the pine, — All augur'd ill to Alpine's line. He girt his loins, and cami! to show 175 Tl le si litVl)l\vii liis i'1 his anatheni.'i lie spokt; : IX. "Woe to the clansmen, nn ho shall \iew Tliis synihol of sepulchi'al yew, '2(H) Forgetful that its l^randies i^rew Where weep tlie heavens tiieir holiest, (]<'w On Alpine's dwellin"^ low ! Deserter of his Chieftains trust. He ne'er shall minicle w ith their dii>t, 'JOf) But, from liis sii'es and kindreil tlini>t, Each clansman's execration just Shall doom him wrath and \\<»e." He paused ; — the word the \asvals took, W^ith foi'ward step and liery l(M»k, 210 On high their naked l»ranlum(Ml ilame Clan- Alpine's venV or TIIK I.AKK. Amsnvcimiii;. witli iiiipiTcMf ion dicad, "Sunk lie lii-> lidiin- ill ciiiIht-- ltd ! And i'urscd Ix' tlif iiit-.-mcst slicd Tliut v\'V slijill liid(^ tlic liousclrss Im'jkI, Wc (loom l<» w.iiit .'iikI wmc!" A slijirp Mild slirickiiii,' ccIh) l,^■l\i•, Coir-rrisUiii, thy guMiii v:\\r '. And tlin .i^i'cy })<'iss wlici'o hiiLlics wave, Oil I'.c.du mjuii-Im). 63 L'oO H;');*) f) O Tx •-'30 >35 '4 40 U5 xi. TIk'Ii d('('[H'r paused (lie priest anew, And liai'd liis lalxjurini^ l)i'(\-itli lie drew, Wliile, with sot teelli and cleiiclied hand, And eyes that glow'd Hke liery brand, lie meditated curse more (h'ead, And deadlier, on th(5 clansman's head AN'ho, summon'd to his chiet'tain's aid. The signal saw and disohey'd. The erosslet's points of sj)ai-kling wood, He quench'd among the l)ul)l)ling hlood, And, MS again the sign he rear'd, Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard : " When tUts this Cross from man to man, Vich-Alpine'.s sinniiions to his clan, l^>urst he the ear that fails to heed I Palsied the foot that shuns to speed I May ravens tear the cai-eless eyes, Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! As sinks that hlood-stream in tlu^ eaith. So may his heart's-lilood drench his heai'th I Asdi th ar les 111 hissing gore the s}) Quench thou his light, Destruction dark And he the irrace to him denied, •-'CO 2G5 270 •JT;") IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I Hi Ui Ik 1i& Ui 1.8 m |l.25 ,4|,.6 ^ 6" ► V] <^ / 7: c\ '\> V /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 1 4580 (716) 873-4003 ^n: m V N> ^ ^9) V '^\ ^\ r O / ^ T- G4 n SfOTT. Bought ))}• tin's sigji to all l)e.si(l(! ! " He ceasod ; ?i<. ccIki iiiisc .-igaiii The luunmir of th*? deep Allien. [c AN TO 280 XII. Thon Jlodcrick, with impatient look, Fidin Urians hand the syinhol took : '' Speed, ]\ralise, speed ! " lie said, and gave The ci'osslet to his henchman l)rave. 285 "The muster-place be Jjanrick mead — Instant the time— speed, .Malise, speed ! " I^ike heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, A l)arge across J.och Katrine ilew ; High stood the henchmMn on the i)i'ow, 290 So I'a^ idly the l)arge-iiien row, The bubbles, where they launeh'd tlu' boat \V«'re all unbroken and afloat. Dancing in foam and ripple still, When it had lu'ar'd the mainland hill ; 296 And from the silver beach's side Still was the prow tlii'ee fathom wide, When lightly Ix.unded to tlm land The messenger of blood and brand. XIII. Speed, Aralise, speed : the dun deer's lii(l( On ileeter foot was never tied. Speed, Malise, speed ! such cause of hasti Tl line active sinews never braced. I5eiid 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, l)urs td ow nlik (^ toi-rent from its crest \\ itli shoit and sp!-inging footstej) | )ass The trembliiiL'' 1 )og am I fal s(! morass 300 305 ro III.] TIIK LADY 01" lUK LAKE. 65 iO i5 10 Across the brook like roebuck ImhukI, And thread the })riike like questing hound ; The crag is high, the scaur is deep, 310 Yet shrink not from the desperate leap : Parch 'd are thy burning lips and brow, Yet by the fountain pause not now ; Herald of battle, fate, and fear, Stretch onward in thy fleet career ! 315 The wounded hind thou track'st not now, Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough, Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace. With rivals in the mountain race ; But danger, death, and warrior deed, 320 Are in thy course — speed, Malise, speed : »5 XIV. Fast as the fatal symbol flies. In arms the huts and hamlets rise ; From winding glen, from upland brown. They pour'd each hardy tenant down. 325 Nor slack'd the messenger his pace ; He show'd the sign, he named the place, And, pressing forward like the wind. Left clamour and surprise behind. The fisherman forsook the strand, 330 The swarthy smith took dirk and brand ; With changed cheer, the mower blithe Left in tlui half-cut swathe the scythe ; The herds without a keeper stray 'd, The plough was in mid-fui-row staid, 335 The falc'ncr toss'd his hawk away. The hunter left the stag at bay ; Prompt at the signal of alarms, 66 SCOTT. [Canto ri Each son of .Vljiino rusliM to arms ; So swept, tlie tuimilt and affray Alon,^ tlie margin of Aclu-ay. Alas, tliou lovely lake! that o'or Thv hanks should (*c'ho scninds of fear! Tlur rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep So stilly on thy b(»som dcn^p. The lark's blitlie carol, from the cloud, Seems for tlie. scene too gaily loud. 340 345 XV. Spe( (1, Malise, speed ! The lake is past, l>uncraggan's huts appear at last, An His fathei's dick and l)r()adsword tied ; l)Ut when he s;iw his mother's eye Watch him in spcM'chless agony, 415 hack to her open'd arms ho Hew, Press'd on her lips a fond adieu — " Alas ; ■" she sohh'd, "and yet he gone, And speed thee forth, likc^ Duncan's son I " ( )ne ItMik he cast upcm the hiei-, 420 Dash'd frmn his eye the gathering tear, lireatheil deep to clear his labouring hreast. And toss'd aloft his honnet <'rest, Then, like the high hred colt, when, freed. Kirst li<^ essay> his lire and speed, 425 lie \aiiiNh d, and o'er inttoc and nioss Sp(>d forward with the iMery C*ross. Suspended was ihe widow s tear While yet his footsteps she could hear ; ^TO III.] TUK LADV OF TIIK LAKK. 69 •k'(l the hench 430 400 405 410 415 And wlion she mark ( I the iiencliman Web witli imwoiitecl sympathy, '' Ivinsman," she said, "Jus race is run That should have sjumI thine ei'rand on ; The oalv has fall'n, - tlie sapHnu; l)ough fs all l)uncraggan's shelter now. 435 Yet trust T well, his duty done, Tlie orpiian's God will guard my son. — And you, in many a danger true, At Duncan's liest your blades that drew, To arms, and guard that orphan's head ! 440 Let babes and women wail the dead." Then weapon-clang and martial call Resounded through the funeral hall, While from the walls the attendant ])and Snatch'd sword and targe, with hurried hand ; 445 And short and flitting energy Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, As if the sounds to warrior dear Miirht rouse her T)uncan from his bier. But faded soon that borrow'd force ; 450 Grief claim'd his right, and tears theii- course. 420 425 XIX. Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. O'er dale and hill the summons flew. Nor rest iior pause young Angus knew ; The tear that gather'd in his eye He left the mountain-breeze to dry ; Until, where Teith's young waters roll, Betwixt him and a wooded knoll. That graced the sable strath with green, The chapel of Saint Bride was seen. 455 460 -^• 70 SCOTT. [Canto Tl Swohi was tlio stream, romoto tlie bi-i(l,i,'o, lint Angus jjansMd not on the od^c ; Tlj()ii.<;li the dark waves danced dix./ily, Tliou'di rcel'd liis svninalhotic! eve, 4G5 He dash'd amid tlie tuircnt's roar: His i-ijj;lit hand liii;li tiie erosslet hore, His left th(i pole-axe j,M-asj)"d, to guidt; And stay liis footing in the tide. He stunihlcd twice — the fo.-iiii splash'd higli, 470 With hoars sjxmI liin\ up tlio brookj Noi" )){U'k\\ar(l glanced, till on the iieatii Wlicr*^ Lul)n.iig's lake supplies the Toith. • What in the racer's hostmi stirr'd '^ Tiie sickening pang ol' hoj)e dt'ferr'd, 530 And iniMuory, with a torturing train Of all his morning \ isions \ain. Mingleil with love's impatience, came The manly thirst for martial fame ; The stormy joy of mountaineers, 535 Ere yet they rush ujxtn the spears ; And zeal for clan and Chii'ft.'iin burning, And hop(\ f;.)m mcII fought field returning. With war's red honours on his crest. To clasji his M;i,ry to his l)i'east. 540 Stung hy surh tlioughts, o'er hank and brae, Tiike fire fiom flint he glanced away, While high resolve, and feeling strong Burst into voluntary song. XXI II. -S^ong. The heath this night nuist be my bed. The bracken curtain for mv head. My lullaby the warder's tread. Far, far. fi-om lov(^ and thee, Mary To-morrow e\(>, more stilly laid, My couch may be my bloody plaid, My vesper song, thy \\ni\, sweet maid I It will not wak en me. M irv 545 550 HI.] TriK I.ADV OF TJli; T.AKK. 73 1 may not, dai-o not, fancy now Th(; «,M'iet' that elou(is tliy lovoly brow, I (laro not think upon thy vow, And all it promised me, Mary. No fond re^^ret nmst Norman know ; When hursts Clan- Alpine on the foe. His heart must be like bended bow, His foot \'i\n) ari'ow fr(;e, Maiy, A time will come with feeling fraught. For, if I fall in battle fought, Thy hapless lover's dying thought Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. And if return'd from conquer'd foes How blithely will the evening close, How sweet the linnet sing repose, To my young bride and me, Mary ! 555 560 565 XXIV. Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, lialquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 570 Hushing, in conflagration strong, Thy deep ravines and dells along, VV^ rapping thy dill's in purple glow. And reddening the dark lakes below ; Nor fas;,3r speeds it, nor so far, 575 As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. The signal roused to martial coil, The sullen margin of Loch Voil, Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source Alarm'd, Balvaig, thy swampy c(jurse ; 580 Thence southward turn'd its rapid road Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad. Till ro.se in arms each man might claim 74 «( r»TT. [Cant «> 11 , ! w \\\ A portion m <'l-'ii Alj-iiic's n;iino, |''i(»iii tin* >;rey sin-, wlio.vc tn-mMin^' luiml Could Imrdly l)Ui'l llui IHW l»oy, wliosp slifift and bow Were V<'t SCUffn tc(r«»C to (In* (TOW. I'lacli \;illcy. cmIi sjM|ur.st('i''d .i^lt'ii, Mustcr'd its littJc horde nt' mni, Tliul iiu't, .'IS Innvnls fmiii tlic liel^dit. In lli;.;lil!in(l d.il s llM-ir stroiuns unite, Still ;.,'atl luring, us tlicy pour al(»ni;, A Noicc more ly hundreds ]ii'oiMi»t tor l)lo\vs and l)ioo(i, Kaeli traiiiM to arms sinct^ lit'i^ hegan, OwniniT no tie hut to liis clan, No oath hut l>y his diieftain's hand, No law hut Rode?i(k Dhu's eoininaiul. 585 590 595 600 xxv. 'I'hat summor morn had Koderick Dliu Survoy'd the skirts of Ken venue, And sent, his scouts o'ei- hill and luMith, To view the frontiers of Menteith, All liaekward e.inie with news of ti'uce : G05 Still lay eju'h maitial (Jra'uie and iJruce, In l{(Hlnoek courts iiu liorNciuen wait, No l)anner wa\ed on ( .'ardross gate, On I )uchray's toweis no beacon shone, Noi- scared the Herons from J^och Con ; GIO All seem'd at peace. — Now wot ye why Th(! C^^hieftain, with such anxi(^us eye, Kre to tlu» muster lie repair, This west(M"n frontier scann'd with care? In r>envenue's most darksome clel't, 015 TO III.] TIIK r.ADY i, \ r.AKK. 75 85 390 A fair, tliou^^li ci'uel, {)l('(li,'o was left ; Tor DoujijlaK, to liis pnuniso triu', That mornini,' from llio islo withdrew, Ami ill a (l(M'j) s('(jii(>sl(M''(l ochastle's plain. And Silence claim'd her evening reign. ihij^ fTO IV.] TIIK LADY OF THE LAKE. 81 70 75 CANTO FOURTH. "IThc fJrophfcw. I. " The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, And hope is briglitest when it dawns from fears : The rose is sweetest wash'd with morninir dew. And love is loveliest when enibalm'd in tears. O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, Emblem of hope and love through future years 1 " — Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, What time the sun arose on Yennachar's broad wave. n. Such fond conceit, half said, half sung. Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. All while he stripp'd the wild-rose spi-ay, His axe and bow beside him lav, For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood, A wakeful sentinel he stood. Hark I — on the rock a footstep rung. And instant to his arms he spru: '^ " Stand, or thou diest ! — What, Malise? — soon Art thou return'd from Braes of Doune. 10 15 •JO By thy keen step and glance T know. Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe." — (For while the Fiery Cross hied on. On distant scout had ]\lalise gone.) "Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchnan said. " Apart, in yonder misty glade ; 25 To his lone couch I'll })e your guide." — Then call'd a slumberer by his side, 82 SCOTT. Lc ANTO And stirr'd him with his slncken'd ])ow- " Up, up, (Jh'iiturkin ! rouse thee, ho ! W (1 see k tJi« CI lief tain ; on tlie track. 30 Keep eagle watch till I come back." III. 'I\)gether up the ])ass they sped : " What of the foeman ?" Norman said. — " Varying reports from near and far ; This certain, — that a band of war Has for two days V)een I'eady ))oune, At prompt connnand, to march fi-om Doune ; King James, the while, with })rinceiy powers. Holds revelry in Stii'ling towers. Soon will this dark iind gathering cloud Speak on our glens in thunder loud. Inured to hide such bitter bout. The warrior's plaid may bear it out ; lUit, Norman, how Milt thou ju'ovide A shelter for thy bonny bride?" — " What I know ye not that Roderick's care To the lone isle hath caused repair Each maid and mati-on of the clan, And every child and agi^l man U)\fit for arms ; and given his charge. Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, Tpon these lakes shall tloat at large, Hut all beside the islet niooi-. That such dear pledge may rest secure I " — 35 40 45 50 IV. " Tis well advised— the Chieftain's plan r>espeaks the father of his clan, lUit wherefore sleeps Sir Koderick Dhu 55 TO IV.] THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 83 30 Apart from all his followers true ? " — " It is, because last evoiiing-tide Brian an augury hath tried, Of that dread kind which must not })e Unless in dread extremity. The Taghairm call'd ; })y which, afar. Our sires foresaw the events of war. Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew." 60 65 35 40 45 50 MALISE. " Ah ! well the gallant brute I knew. The choicest of the prey we had, When swept our merry-men (rallangad. 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 oiir 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 pikeman's goad. And wnen we came to Dennan's Bow, A child might scatheless stroke his brow. V. 70 75 55 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. Couch 'd on a shelf beneath its brink. 80 85 81 SCOTT. [Canto Close where the (hunderint,' torrents sink, ](ockiii<^ ])eneath tlicir liea(llon]>y path of my return." — " The happy path ! — what ! said he nougiit Of M-;ir, of battle to he fought, 390 Of guarded pass ? "--" No, by my faith ! Nor saw 1 au'dit could auffur scathe." — " O haste thee, Allan, to the kern, — Yondt^r his tartans I discern ; Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 395 That he will guide the stranger sure ! — What pi'ompted thee, unhappy man 1 The meanest serf in Roderick's clan Had not been bribed by love or fear. Unknown to liim to <,^uide thee here." 400 XVII. "Sweet Kllen, dear my life must l)e, Since it is v.Mrthy care from thee; Yet life I hold but idle breath, IV.] TIIK LADY OF TIIK LAKE. 95 When love or honour's weigli'd witli death. Then let me profit by my chance, 405 And speak my purpose bold at once. I come to bear thee from a wild, Where ne'er before such blossom smiled ; By this soft hand to lead thee far From frantic scenes of feud and wai-. 410 Near Bochastle my horses \vait ; They bear us soon to Stirling gate. I'll place thee in a lovely bower, I'll ijuard thee like a tender flower " — " O ! hush, Sir Knight ! 'twere female art, 415 To say I do not read thy heart ; Too much, before, my selfish ear Was idly soothed my praise to hear, That fatal bait hath lured thee back. In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track ; 420 And how, O how, can I atone The wreck my vanity brought on ! - One way remains — I'll tell him all — Yes ! struiiirlinj; bosom, forth it shall ! Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, 425 Buy thine own pardon with thy shame ! But first— my fatli#r is a man ( )utlaw'd and exil'd, under ban ; The price of blood is on his head. With me 'twere infamy to wed. — 130 Still would'st thou speak I —then hear the truth ! Fitz-James, thci'o is a nol)le youth, — If yet he is I — exposed for me And mine to dread extremity — Thou hast the secret of my heai t ; 435 Forgive, be generous, and depart ! " 1)6 at;oT'r. [Canto i! !i XVIII. Fit/ Jjunos knew every wily traii\ A l.ulys tic'kl«i heart to gain, lint liere lie knew and felt them vuin. Thei-e shot no glance from Ellen's eye, 440 To gi\e her steadfast speech the lie ; In maiden eonfidence she stood, Though mantled in her cheek the blood, And told her love with such a sigh Of de(>p and hopeh^ss agony, 445 As (h>ath had st'al'd her Malcolm's doom, And sh(» sat sorrowing on his tomb. Hope vanisird from Fitz-James's eye, J->iit not with hope tied sympathy. He protTer'd to attend her side, 450 As brother would a sister guide. — '• (.) ! little know'st thou Roderick's heart ! Safer for both we go apart. O haste thee, and from Allan learn. If thou mayst trust yon wily kern." 455 With hand upon his forehead laid, The conlliet of his mind to shade, A ])arting stcj^ oi- t*N o he made ; Then, as some thought had cross'd his })rain. He paus'd, and turn'd, and came again. 460 xi\. *' Hear, lady yt^ a parting word I — It I'liaiu'ed in tight that my poor sword Pres«'r\('d \\\o life of Scotland's lord. This ring the grateful ^Monarch gave, And bade, when T had boon to crave. To bring it back, and boldlv claim 465 STO IV.] TlIK LADY OF Til.. LAKE. 97 440 445 450 455 Tlie recompense that I would name. Ellen, I am no courtly lord, f>ut one who lives by lance and sword. Whose castle is his helm and shield, 470 His lordship the embattled field. What from a prince can I demand, Who neither reck of state nor land 1 Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thin(^ ; Each guard and usher knows the sign. 475 Seek thou the king without delay ; This signet shall secure thy way ; And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, As ransom of his pledge to me." He placed the golden circlet on, 480 Paused — kiss'd her hand — and then was gone. The aged Minstrel stood aghast, So hastily Fitz-James shot past. He join'd his guide, and wending down The ridges of the mountain brown, 485 Across the stream they took their way, That jc^'ns Loch Katrine to Achray. XX. 460 465 All in the Trosach's glen w\as still. Noontide w^as sleeping on the hill : Sudden his guide whoop'd loud and high — 490 " Murdoch ! was that a signal ciy 1" — He stammer'd forth — " I shout to scare Yon raven from his dainty fare." He look'd— he knew the ravtMi's prey, His own brave steed : — " All ! gallant grey ! 495 For thee —for mo, perchance — 'twere well We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. — 98 SCOTT. [Canto IMur(l()(;li, movo first — but silently ; Whistle or w lio(>|), and tiioii shalt die ! " Jealous and sullen ou they fared, Each silent, each upon his guard. 500 XXI. Now wound the })ath its dizzy ledgo Ai'ound a precipice's edge, When lo ! a wasted female form, P>lighted by wrath of sun and storm, 605 In tatter'd weeds and wild array. Stood on a cliff beside the way. And glancing round her restless eye. Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, Seem'd nought to mark, yet all to spy. 510 Her brow was wreath'd with gaudy broom ; With gesture wild she waved a plume Of feathers, which the eagles fling To crag and cliff from dusky wing ; Such spoils her desperate step had sought, 515 AVI 1 ere scarce was footing for the goat. The tartan plaid she first descried, And shriek 'd till all the rocks replied ; As loud she laugh 'd when near they drew, For then tlie Lowland garb she knew ; 520 And then her hands she wildly wrung, And then she wept, and then she sung — She sung ! — the voice, in better time, Perchance to harp or lute might chime ; And now, though strain'd and roughen'd, still 525 Kung wildly sweet to dale and hill. IV.J THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 99 XXII. They bid lue sleep, they bid me pray, They say my brain is warp'd and wrung — I cannot sleep on Highland brae, I cannot piay in Highland tongue. 530 But were I now where Allan glides, Or heard my native Devan's tides. So sweetly would I rest, and pray That Heaven would close my wintry day ! 'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid, 535 They made me to the church repair ; It was my bridal morn they said, And my true love would meet me there. But woe betide the cruel guile, That drown'd in blood the morning smile ! 540 And woe betide the fairy dream ! I only waked to sob and scream. XXIII. '* Who is this maid 1 what means her lay"? She hovers o'er the hollow way, And flutters wide her mantle grey, As the lone heron spreads his wing, By twilight, o'er a haunted spring." " 'Tis Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said, " A crazed and captive Lowland maid, Ta'en on the morn she v/as a bride, When Roderick foray'd Devan-sitle. The gay bridegroom resistance made, And felt our Chief's unconquered blade. 545 550 B 100 SCOTT. [Canto Meet signal for their revelry." — 501 T inurvcl she is now at lur^e, But, oft slio 'sea}>es from MaiidHn's charge. - ^)')b lleiiee, Inviiii-sick fool ! " II'' raised his bow : — " Now, if thoii .^Irik'sl her l»ut one hlow, T'll piteh thee fi'oni the clifVas far As ever peasant ]iitcird a bar I " — "Tlianks, champion, thanks," the Maniac cried. And press'd her to Fitz-Janies's side. " See the grey pennons I pi-epare, To seek my true-love through tlu^ air ! T will not lend that savage groom, To break his fall, one downy plume ! No ! — deep amid disjointed stones, The wolves shall batten on his bones, And then shall his detested plaid, By bush and brier in mid air staid. Wave forth a banner fair and free, 5G5 570 XXIV. " Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still ! " — " O ! thou look'st kindly, and I v. ill. — Mine eye has dried and wasted been, But still it loves the Lincoln green ; And, though mine ear is all unstrung, 8till, still it loves the Lowland tongue. " For my sweet William was forester true. He stole poor Blanche's henrt away ! His coat it was all of the greenwood hue. And so blithely he trill'd the Lowland lay ! " Tt was not that I meant to tell . . . But thou art wise, and guessest well." Then, in a low and bi-oken tone. 575 580 ro jf) n )5 ro 15 •V] TIIK LADY OF TIIK LAKK. ]()] And hurriod noto, tho song went on. 585 Still on tho Clansman fearfully Slic5 fix'd hor approhonsivo eyo ; Then turn'd it on tlie Knight, and then Her look glanced wildly o'er the gien. XXV. " The toils are pitch'd, and tluj stakes are set, 590 Ever sing merrily, merrily ; The bows they bend, and the knives they whet, Hunters live so cheerily. " It was a stag, a stag of ten, Bearing its branches sturdily ; 695 He came stately down the glen, — Ever sing hardily, hardily. " It was there he met with a wounded doe. She was l^leeding deathfully ; She warn'd hira of the toils below, 600 O, so faithfully, faithfully ! " He had an eye, and he could heed, Ever sing warily, warily ; He had a foot, and he could speed — Hunters watch so narrowly." 605 10 XXVI. Fitz-James's mind was passion-toss'd. When Ellen's hints and fears were lost ; But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, And Blanche's song conviction brought.- Not like a stag that spies the snare, But lion of the hunt aware, 610 102 SCOTT. [Canto H<5 waved ut om-e his hlado on lii«;li, " DisoloHc tliy trcacliery, or die ! " Forth at full speed the Clansman Hew, Hut in Ids race his bow he drew. 615 The shaft just ^'razed Fit/James's cn\st, And thrili'd in Jilanche's faded breast, — Murdoch of Al])ine ! prove thy s})eed, For ne'er hud Alpine's son such need ! With heart of fii-e, and foot of wind, 620 The fierce aven^'er is behind ! Fate judges of the rapid strife — The forfeit death — the prize is life ! Thy kindred ambush lies before, Close couchM U[)on the heathery moor ; 625 Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not })e — Thine ambush'd kin thou ne'er shalt set^, The fiery Saxon i,^•uns on thee ! — Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, As lightning strikes the ])ine to dust ; 630 AVitli foot and hand Fitz- James must strain Ere he can win his blade again. Bent o'er the falln, with falcon eye. He grimly smiled to see him ilie ; Then slower wended back his way, 635 Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. XXVII. She sate beneath the birchen tree, Her elbow resting on her knee ; She had withdrawn tli(? fatal shaft, And gazed on it, and feebly laugh 'd ; 640 Her wreath of bioom and feathers grey Daggled with blood, ])eside her lay. The Knight to staunch the life-stream tried, — it IV.] TMK LAI»Y OF TIIK I.AKK. 10"5 r) '• Stranger, it is in vain ! " she criod. " Tliis hour of death lias given nu' more G45 Of reason's power than yeai's lieforo ; F'or, as tlieso el)l)ing v('ins decay, My frenzied visions faer life ! — Winning mean l)rey by causeless strife, Wrenching fi'oni riiin'd Lowland swain J I is herds and hai vest rear'd in vain. — Metliitdcs a soul, lik(^ thine, should scorn The spoils from such foul foray ])orne." [Canto 125 130 ]\^ VII. The Gael l)eheld him grim the while. And answer'd with disdainful smile, — 135 "Saxon, fron. yonder mountain high, T mai'k'd thee send delighted eye. Far to the south and east, where lay. Extended in .succession gay. Deep waving fields and pastures green, 140 With gentle slopes and groves between : — These fei'tile plains, that soften'd vale, Were once the birthright of the (lael ; The stranger came witli iron hand. And from our fatliers reft the land. 145 Where dwell we now 1 Hee, rudely swell Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. Ask we this savage hill we tread, For fatten'd steer or household l)read. Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 150 And well the mountain might reply, — * To you, as to your sires of yoj-e, v.] THE LADY OF TIIK LAKK. 113 BoloMg tlio target .and clayniore ! J givo you sludtcr in my breast, Your own good ))lad()s must win tlu; rest.' 155 Pent in this fortress of the Noilii, Think'st thou we will not sally forth, To spoil the spoiler as we may, And from the robber rend the prey / Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain 160 The Saxon reai's one shock of urrain ; Whih^, of teji thousand herds, there sti'ays But one along yon river's mjr:e, — The Giw], of plain and river heir, Shall, with strong hand, redeem his shar*'. 165 Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold That plundering Lowland field and fold Is aught but retribution true ? Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Bhu." — VIII. Answer'd Fitz-James,— " And, if I sought, 170 Think'st thou no other could be lirouirht i What deem ye of my path waylaid 1 My life given o'er to ambuscade 1 " — " As of a meed to rashness due : Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 175 I seek my hound, or falcon stray'd, I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, — Free hadst thou been to come and <;o ; But secret path marks secret foe. Nor yet, for this, even as a spy, 180 Hadst thou, unheard, been doom'd to die, Save to fulfil an augury." — " W^ell, let it pass ; nor will I now Fresh cause of enmity avow. Ill SCOTT. [Canto To cliafc tliy mood and cloud (liy hrow. 185 I^Jioiiyli, I am l)y promis(3 tiod To match mo witli this man of pride : Twico havo 1 .sou^dit Clan Alpine's ^lon In jKiaco ; but when I como a^'ain, I como with ))anm'r, brand, and l)ow, 190 As leader seeks his mortal foe. For love-lorn swain, in lady's l)ower, Ne'er panted for the appointed hour. As I, until iteforo nu. stand This rebel chieftain and his band ! " 195 IX. " Havo, then, thy wish ! " — He whistled shrill, And he was answer'd from the hill ; Wild ii forwai'd Ihuiij, L*'JO Upon (1m; mou.itaiii sidii they iiun^. 'rh(! iMoiiii(niii(!C'r cast glance of pride Along licnlcfh's living sido, Then fix'd his eye and sal)le brow Full on Fit/-Janies — ''How say'sb thou now ( 225 'I'liese are Clati-Alpino's warrioi's true ; And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu ! " 200 205 210 215 X. Fitz-Jaines was hi-ave : — Though to his heart The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start, He niann'd liimself with dauntless air, 230 Keturn'd the Chi(;f his haughty stare. His back against a rock ho bore, And fii-ndy j)laced his foot before : — " Come one, come all ! this rock shall tly From its firm base as soon as I." 235 Sir ]{o(lerick mark'd — and in his eyes Kespect was mingl(Hl with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel. Short space he stood— then waved his hand : 2 10 Down sunk the disappearing ])an(l ; Each warrior vanisli'd where he stood, Tn br(K»m or bracken, heath or wood ; Suid-c bi'and and spear and ])ended bow, In osiers pale and copses low ; 245 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. r' 116 SCOTT. [Canto Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair, — The next but swept a lone hill-side, 250 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 unrefiected, shone On bracken green, and cold grey stone. 255 XI. Fitz-James look'd round — yet scarce believed The witness that his sight recei\'tid ; Such apparition well might seem Delusion of a dreadful dream. Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 260 And to his look the Chief replied : *' Fear nought — nay, that I need not say — But — doubt not auo;ht from mine array. TLou art my guest ; — I pledged my word As far as Coilantogle ford : 265 Nor would I call a clansman's brand For aid against one valiant hand, Though on our strife lay every vale Rent l)v the Saxon from the Oael. So move we on ; I only meant 270 To show the reed on which you leant. Deeming this path you might pursue Withoat a pass from Rodei'ick Dliu." They moved : — I said Fitz-James was brave. As ever knight that belted glaive ; 275 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, Wliiclv yet, by fearful proof, was rife 280 I \NTO v.i THK LADY OP THE LAKE. 117 250 255 260 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, And in the plover's shrilly strain, 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 ])ush of broom was near. To hide a bonnet or a spear. 285 290 295 265 270 275 280 XIL The Chief in silence strode before. And reach'd that torrent's sounding shore. Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, From Yennachar in silver breaks. Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 300 On Bochastle the mouldering lines. 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, 305 And to the Lowland warrior said — " Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. This murderous Chief, tliis I'uthless man. This JK^ad of a rebellious clan, 310 Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward. Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 118 li SCOTT. Canto Now, man to man, and steel to steel, A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. See, here, all vantageless I stand, 315 Arm'd, like thyself, with single brand : 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 ; 320 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 ? 325 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 ; 330 ' 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. ' Seek yonder brake beneath tlie dift] — 335 There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. Thus Fate liatli solved her prophecy. Then yield to Fate, and not to me. To James, at Stirlinir, I'^t us m\ Wlien, if thou wilt be still his foe. 3t0 Or if the King sliall not agree To grant thee grace and favoui- free. I plight mine honour, oath, .-ind woi'd, That, to thy native strengths restored, V. NTO V.J 315 320 325 530 J35 JIO THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 119 With each advantage shalt thou stand, 345 That aids thee now to guard thy land." XIV. Dark lightning flash'd from Iloderick's (»ye — " Soars thy presumption, then, so high, Because a wretched kern ye slew. Homage to name to Roderick Dliu ? 350 He yields not, he, to man nor Fate ! Thou add'st but fuel to my hate : — My clansinan's blood demands revenge. Not yet prepared ? — By heaven, T cliange My thought, and hold thy valour liglit 355 As that of some vain carpet knight, Who ill deserved my courteous care, And whose best boast is but to wear A braid of his fair lady's hair." — " I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! 3G0 It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; For I have sworn this l)raid to stain In the best blood that warms thy vein. Now, truce, farewell ! and, rutli, ])og<)ne ! — Yet think not that by thee alone, 3G5 Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ; Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn. Start at my whistle clansmen stern, Of this small horn one feeljle l)last Would fearful odds against thee cast. 370 But fear not — doubt not — wliieli tliou wilt — We try this quarrel hilt to hilt." Then each at once his falchion drew, Each on the ground his scal)l)ai'd threw, Each look'd to sun, and sti'eiun, and pbiiii, 375 As what they ne'er might sec again ; III!! 120 SCOTT. [Canto V. i 1 I i I ' it' Then foot, and point, and eye opposed, In dubious strife they darkly closed. XV. Til fared it then with Roderick Dhu, That on the field his targe he threw, Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide Had death so often dash'd aside ; For, train'd abroad his arms to wield, Fitz-James's bhide was sword and shield. Jle practised every pass and ward. To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; While less expert, though stronger far, The Gael maintain'd unequal war. Three times in closing strife they stood, And thrice the Haxon blade drank blood ; No stinted draught, no scanty tide. The gushing flood the tartans dyed. Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain. And shower'd his blows like wintry rain ; And, as firm rock or castle-roof Against the winter shower is proof, The foe, invulnerable still, Foil'd his wild rage by steady skill ; Till, at advantage ta'en, his bi'and Forced Roderick's weapon frora his hand. And backward borne upon the lea. Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 380 385 390 395 400 XVI. " Now, yield thee, or l»y Him who made The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade ! " " Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 405 Let recreant yield, who fears to die," rxo v.] THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 121 80 85 )0 )5 10 — Like adder darting from his coil, Like wolf that dashes through th(; toil, Like mountain-cat who guards her young. Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ; 410 Received, but reck'd not of a wound. And lock'd his arms his foenian round. — Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! No maiden's hand is round thee thrown I That desperate grasp thy frame might feel 115 Through bars of brass and triple steel ! — They tug, they strain ! down, down tliey go. The Gael above, Fitz-James below. The Chieftain's gripe his throat compress'd. His knee was planted on his breast ; 420 His clotted locks he backward threw. Across his brow his hand he drew. From blood and mist to clear his sight. Then gleam'd aloft his dagger bright ! — — But hate and fury ill supplied 425 The stream of life's exhausted tide. And all too late the advantage came, To turn the odds of deadly game ; For, while the dagger gleam'd on high Reel'd soul and sense, reel'd brain and eye. 430 Down came the blow ! but in the heath The erring blade found bloodless sheath. The struggling foe may now unclasp The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp ; Unwounded from the dreadful close, 435 But breathless all, Fitz- James arose. XVII. He falter'd thanks to Heaven for life, Redeem'd, unhoped, from desperate strife ; 122 m- [Canto V Next on his foe his look lie cast, Wliose every gasp appoar'd his hist ; 440 In lloderick's gore he dippVl the Ijraid, — " Poor Bhmche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid ; Yet with thy foe must die, or live, The praise that Faith and Valour give." "With that he blew a bugle note, 445 Undid the collar from his throat, Unbonneted, and by the \va\e Sate down his brow and hands to lave. Then faint afar are heard the feet Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 450 The sounds increase, and now are seen Four mounted squires in Lincoln gi'een ; Two who bear lance, and two who lead, By loosen'd rein, a saddled steed ; Each onward held his headlong course, 455 And by Fitz-James rein'd up his horse, — With wonder view'd the bloody spot — — " Exclaim not, gallants ! question not. You, Her))ert and LufFness, alight. And bind the wounds of yonder knight ; 460 Let the grey palfrey bear his weight, "We destined for a fairer freight. And ])i-ing him on to Stirling straight ; I will before at lietter speed. To seek fresh horse and fitting Aveed. 465 The sun rides high ;— I must Ik^ boune. To see the archer-game at noon ; But lightly Bayai-d clears the lea. — De Vaux and llerries, follow me. XVIII. " Stand, I'ayard, stand ! " — the steed obey'd, 470 With archin<; neck and bended head. V.J THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 123 And glancing eye and quivering ear, As if he loved his lord to hear. No foot Fitz-Janies in stirrup staid, No grasp upon the sarldle laid, 475 But wreath'd his left hand in the mane, And lightly bounded from the })lain, Turn'd on the horse his armed heel, And stirr'd his courage with the steel. Bounded the fiery steed in air, 4(^0 The rider sate erect and fair, Then like a bolt from steel crossbow Forth launch'd, along the plain they go. They dasli'd that rapid torrent through, And up Carhonie's hill they flew ; 485 Still at the gallop prick'd the Knight, His merry-men follow'd as they might. Along thy banks, swift Teith ! they ride, And in the race they mock thy tide ; Torry and Lendrick now are past, 490 And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; They rise, the banuer'd towers of Doune, They sink in distant woodland soon ; Blair- Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire. They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre ; 495 They mark just glance and disappear The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides. And on the opposing shore take gi-ound, 500 With plash, with scramble, and with bound. Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig- Forth ! And soon the bulwark of the North, Grey Stirling, with her towers and town. Upon their fleet career look'd down. 505 -rr" 124 SCOTT. [Canto '(iii XIX. As up the flinty path they .stmhi'd, Sudden his steed the leader rein'd ; A signal to his squire he flung, AVho instant to his stirrup sprung: — *' Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gr<;y, 510 Who town-ward holds the rocky way, Of stature tall and poor array ] ]\lark'st thou the firm, yet active stride, With which he scales the mountain-side \ Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom V " No, by my word; — a burly groom 516 He seems, who in the field or chase A baron's train would nobly grace." — " Out, out, De Yaux ! can fear supply, And jealousy, no sharper eye? 520 Afar, ere to the hill he drew, That stately form and step I knew ; Like form in Scotland is not seen, Treads not such step on Scottish green. 'Tis James of Douglas, by Saint Serle ! 525 The uncle of the ])anish'd Earl. Away, away, to court, to show The nea^' a})proach of dreaded foe : The King must stand upon his guard ; Douglas and he must meet prepared." 530 Then i-ight-hand wheel'd their steeds, and straight They won the castle's postern gate. XX. The Douglas, who h.'id bent his way From Cambus-Keinieth's abbey grey Now, as he climb'd the rocky shelf, 535 v.] TTIK LADY OF TIIH LAKE. 125 Held Scad coramunion with Idniself : - "Yes ! all is true my fears could fnuiH^ ; A prisoner lies the noble Ora'nic, And fiery Roderick soon will feel The vengeance of the royal steel. 540 Tj only I, can ward their fate, — God grant the ransom come not late ! The al)bess hath her promise given, My child shall be the bride of Heaven ; — • — Be pardon'd one repining tear ! 545 For He, who gave her, knows h(nv dear, How excellent ! — but that is by, And now my business is — to die. — Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; 550 And thou, O sad and fatal mound ! That oft has heard the death-axe sound. As on the noisiest of the land Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand,-— The dungeon, block, and nameless toml) Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom ! — But hark ! what blithe and jolly peal Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ? And see ! upon the crowded street, In motley groups what mas(|uers meet ! Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, And merry morrice-dancers come. I guess, by all this quaint array. The burghers hold their sports to-day. James will be there ; he loves such show, 5{')5 Where the good yeoman bends his ))ow, And the tough wrestler foils his foe. As well as where, in proud career. The high-born tilter shivers spear. 555 5G0 •jr> SCOTT. I'll follow to tli(> Castle-park, And j)l;iy my pri/.ll fillM witli piocos l)n)Uil ; ln(lii^n;irit smiled tlio Dou^^las proud, And throw tlio gold .•iinoiig tho crowd, W'Ikj now, willi ;iuxioua wonder, scan, 605 And sliurpcr gl;ince, tho dark grey man ; Till whispers rose among (ho tlii-ong, That licart so free, and liand so strong, ]M.ust to the Douglas blood hclong ; The old men mark'd and shook tlu; head, 670 To see his hair with silver spread, And wink'd asid(^, and t' life-blood drank. 705 The King's stout huntsman saw the sport I>y strange intruder broken short, Came up, and with his leash unbound, \n anijer struck the noljle hound. — The Douglas had endured, that morn, 710 The King's eold look, the nobles' scorn, And last, and worst to spirit proud. Had borne th(^ pitv ';f the ci'owd ; But Lufra had l)(>en fondly bi'ed, To share his b(»,i.d, to watch his ])ed, 715 Aiul oft would Ell(Mi, Lufra's neck In maiden glee with garlands deck ; They were such iilayiiiates, that with name Of Lufi'a, Kllen's image came. His stitl(>d wrath is brimming high, 7'^2 Tn darkend Itrow and flashing ey<' ; As waves before the bark (lis ide, Tlu^ crowd gav(^ way l)ef(»re his sti'ide ; Needs but a V)uffet and no more. The groom lies senseless in his gore. 725 Such blow no other hand could fleal, Though gauntler,(Ml in glove of steel. v.] THE LADY OP THE LAKE. 131 730 735 XXVI. Then claniour'd loud tlio royal train, And brandisli'd swords and staves amain, But stern the Baron's warning —" Back ! Back, on your lives, ye menial pack ! Beware the Douglas.— Yes ! behold, King James ! The Douglas, doom'd of old, And vainly sought for near and far, A victim to atone the war, A willing victim, now attends. Nor craves tliy grace but for his friends." — " Thus is my clemency repaid ] Presumptuous Lord ! " the Monarch said ; " Of thy mis-proud ambitious clan. Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, The only man, in whom a foe My woman-mercy would not know : But shall a Monarch's presence brook Injurious blow, and haughty look] — What ho ! the Captain of our Guard ! Give the offender fitting ward. — Break oflF the sports ! " — for tumult rose. And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, — " P>reak off ti^e sports ! " he said, and frown'd, ** And bid our horsemen clear the ground." 751 xxvn. 740 745 Then uproar wild and misarra}' Marr'd the fair form of festal da}'. The horsemen prick'd among the crowd, Repell'd by threats and insult loud ; To earth are borne tlie old and weak, The timorous fly, the women shriek ; 755 132 SCOTT. [Canto With flint, witli .shaft, witli staff, with bar, The haniier ur.i^e tiuimltuous war. At unce round Douglas darkly sweep 760 The royal spears in circle deep, And slowly scale the pathway steep ; While on the rear in thunder pour The rabble with disorder'd roar. With grief the noble Douglas saw 7G5 The Commons rise against the law, And to the leading soldier said — " 8ir John of Hyndford, 'twas my blade, That knighthood on thy shoulder laid ; For that good deed, permit me then 770 A word with these misguided men. XXVIII. " Hear, gentle friends ! ere yet for me, Ye break the bands of fealty. My life, my honour, and my cause, I tender free to 8c(.)tlan(rs laws. 775 Are these so weak as must require The aid of your misguided ire 1 Or, if I suffer causeless wrong, Is then my seltish rage so strong, My sense of ]»ublic weal .so low, 780 That, for iiK^an vengeance on a foe, Those coi'ds of love I should unbind, Which knit my country and my kind 1 ( ) no ! ]]elieve, in yonder tower It will not soothe my captive hour, 785 To know those spears our foes should dread, For me in kindred gore arc red ; To ^ now, in fr-uiiless b 'awl begun, For me, that mother wails her son ; V-] THE LADY OF THK LAKE. For me, that widow's mate expires ; For me, that orphans weep their sires ; That patriots mourn insulted laws, And curse the Douglas for the cause. O let your patience ward such ill, And keep your right to love me still ! " 133 790 795 XXIX. The crowd's wild fury sunk again In tears, as tempests melt in rain. With lifted hands and eyes, they pray'd For blessings on his generous head Wlio for his country felt alone, And prized her Ijlocjd beyond his own. Old men, upon the verge of life, Bless'd him who staid the civil strife ; And mothers held their babes on high, The self-devoted Chief to spy. Triumphant over wrongs and ire, To whom the prattlers owed a sii'c : Even the rough soldier's heart was moved ; As if behind some bier l)eloved, AVitli trailing arms and drooping head, The Douglas up the hill he led. And at the Castle's battled verge. With siirhs resign'd his honour'd charge. 800 805 810 XXX. The offended Monarch rode apart. With l)itter thought and swelling heart, And would not imw v(»uchsafe again Through Stirling streets to lead his train. " O Lennox, v.ho would wish to rule 815 i ! 134 SCOTT. [C. \NTO This changeling crowd, this common fool 1 • Hear'st thou," he said, " the loud acclaim, 820 With which they shout the Douglas name ? With like acclaim, the vulgar throat StrainM for King James their morning note ; With like acclaim they hail'd the day. AVhen first I broke the Douglas' sway ; 825 ■■( ' And like acclaira would Douglas greet If he could hurl me from my seat. AVho o'er the herd would wish to reign, Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ! Vain as the leaf upon the strjam, 830 And fickle as a changeful dream ; Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Fi-enzv's fever'd blood. Thou many-headed mons-^er-tliing. who wouln ' V<»ur gi'ace will h«'ar of batthi fought ; 850 NTO 820 ^•] 825 830 836 810 8-45 850 THE LADY OF THK LAKE. But earnestly the E.irl l)esought, Till for such dan^or he provide, With scanty train you will not ride." XXXII. " Thou warn'st nie T have doni^ amiss, — I should have earlier look'd to this : I lost it in this })ustling day. — Retrace with speed thy former way ; Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, The best of mine shall he thy meed. Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, We do forbid the intended war : Roderick, this morn, in single fight, Was made our prisoner )jy a knight ; And Douglas hath himself and cause Submitted to our kingdom's laws. The tidings of their leaders lost Will soon dissolve the mountain host, Nor would we that the vulgar feel, For their Chiefs crimes, avenging steel. Bear ^lar our message, Ih-aco ; fly ! " — He turn'd his steed. — " INly liege, I hie,- Yet, ere I cross this lily lawn, T fear the broadswords will ])e drawih" The turf the living cours(>r spurn'd, And t<> ill t(»\vt'i's th(! i\ing returned. AXXKI. Ill with King .lam(\s' mood tliat- da}'. Suited gay feast nnd liiinsti'cl lay ; Soon were dismis^M the couitly ihnmg, .Vnd scMtu cut short the festal song. Nor less u|)(»!i lilt' sadden d town 135 Hr>5 860 865 870 875 880 f I I I I ! i 136 SCOTT. [Canto The evening sunk in sorrow down. The Inn'ghers spoke of civil jar, Of riunour'd feuds and mountain war, Of JVForay, IMar, and lloderick Dhu, All up in aims : —the Douglas too, 885 They mourn'd him pent within tlie hold, " Where stout Earl William was of old." And there his word tlie speaker staid, And finger on his lip he laid, Or pointed to his dagger blade. 890 But jaded horsemen, from the west, At e\ening to the Castle pi-ess'd ; And husy talkei'S said they bore Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ; At noon the deadly fray begun, 895 And lasted till the set of sun. Thus giddy rumour shook the town, Till closed the Night her pennons bi-own. VI. VI.] TirE LADY OF THE LAKE. 137 CANTO SIXTH. %\\c ©iiarb-iloom. The sun, awakening, through the vsnioky air (jf the dark city casts a sullen glance, Housing each caitiff to his task of care, Of sinful man the sad inhcn-itance ; Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, 5 Scaring the pi'owling robber to his den ; Gilding on battled tower the wai-der's lance, And warning student pale to leave his pen, And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men. What various scenes, and, O I what scenes of woe, 10 Are witness'd by that red and struggling beam ! The fever'd patient, from his pallet low, Through crowded hospital beholds its stream; The ruin'd maiden trem])les at its gleam. The debtor waki's to thought of gyve and jail, 15 The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream ; The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail. II. At dawn the towers of Stirling rang With soldier-step and weapon-clang, 20 While drums, with rolling note, foretell Relief to weary sentinel. Through naj'i'ow loop and casement barr'd. The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, And, struggling with tlie smoky ;iir, 25 Deaden 'd the torches' yellow glare. :f 1 ;; '■- ! M ^ i .! i' 3I' '1 138 SCOTT. [Canto Tn comfortless alliance .shone The lights through arch of blacken'd stone, And .show'd wild shapes in g.'irb of war, Faces deform cl with beaid and scar, .30 All haggard from the midnight watch, And fevci'M with the stern de])auch ; K(»r the (ial: table's massive board, Flooded w^bh wine, with fragme'* < • ..red. And beakei's di-aiu'd, and cups o*cr! !)!*•.. n, 35 Show'd in what sport the night had rlowij, Some, werry, snored on floor and IkmicIi ; Some labouv'd still tlunr thir.st to (juench ; Some, chiird \vith watching, spread tlnnr hands O'er the huge chimney's dying lirands, 40 While round *hem, or beside them Hung, At every st-ep iJieir harness rung. III. 'J'hese drew not for their fields (lie sword, Like tenants of a feudal IoitI, Nor own'd the patriarchal claim Of Chieftain in their leadoi-'s nam(^ ; Adventurers they, from far who i-oxccl, To live by battle which they loxcd. There the Italian's clouded face. The swarthy Spaniard's thei-e y<»u trace ; The mountain-lo\ ing Switzer there Moi'e freely breathed in mountain-air ; The Fleming there despised tlu; soil. That 2)aid so ill the labour(!r's toil ; Their rolls show'd Frencli and (Jei'man name ; And merrv Fnu'iand's exiles c;iine, To share, wilh ill coiKCiTd disdjiin, (Jf Scotland's pav the scautv "'aiu. 45 50 55 VI.] THE LADY OP THE LAKE. All brave in arms, well trniii'd to wield The heavy lialberd, ))rand, and shi«»l(l ; In camps licentious, wild and hold ; In pillage fierce and unconti-oUd ; And now, by holy tide and f(^ast, From rules of discipline released. 139 60 IV. They hold debate of bloody fray, 05 Fought 'twixt Jjoch Katrine and Achray. Fierce; was their speech, and, 'mid their words, Their hands oft grappled to their swords ; Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear Of wounded comrades groaning near, 7M Whose mangled limbs, and bodies gored. Bore token of the mountain swoi-d, Though, neighbouring to the Coui't of (Uiard, Their prayers and feverish wails were heard ; Sad burden to the ruffian joke, 75 And savage oath by fury spoke ! — At length up-started John of Brent, A yeoman from the banks of Trent ; A stranger to respect or fear. In peace a chaser of the deer, 80 In host a hardy mutineer, But still the boldest of the crew, When deed of danger was to do. He grieved, that day, their games cut. short, And marr'd the dicer's brawling sport, 85 And shouted loud, " llenew the bowl ! And, while a merry catch I troll. Let each the buxom cliorus bear, Like bi'ethren of the bi-and and spear." :V&j liO SCOTT. [Canto Our vicar still proju-hes tlwit I'otei' and Poule 90 Laid 11 swingiiJi,^ loni;; curse on the bonny lirown bowl, That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack, And the stn-en deadly sins in a flagon of sack ; Vet Avhoop, Barnaby ! oil' with thy liquor, Drink upsees out, aiid a iig for the vicar ! 95 Our vicar he calls it damn;'.tion to sip The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's deai- lip, Says, that IJeel/ebub hii'ks in her kerchief so sly, And Apollyon shoots darts fi-oni her merry black eye; Yet whoop, Jack ! kiss (lillian the quicker, 100 Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar! Our vicai- thus preaches — and why should he not ( For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot ; And 'tis right of his otlice poor laymen to luich, Who infringe tiie domains of our good Mother Church. Yet whoo]), bully-boys ! off with your li(|uor, 106 Sweet Marjories the woi-d, and a lig for the vicar ! VI. The warder's cliallenge, heard without, Staid in mid-roar the merry shout. A soldier to the portal went, — *' Hen; is old Bertram, sirs, of (Jhent ; And, — beat for jubilee the di-um I — A maid iu\\\ minstrel with him come." Bertram, a Fleming, grey and scjii-r'd, Was entej'ing now the Coui't of ( Juai-d, A harper with him, and in plaid 110 115 vr.j TIIK LADY OF THK LAKK. 141 All imif!lo(l clo»})|)'{l at oiict! lln; turtuii sciren ;- S(», tVoiii his nioriiini^ cloud, uppoars Tlu! sun of iVIfiy, tlirou<,di suinmcf tears. TIk^ savago soldiery, amazod, As oil descended angel gazed ; Kv<>»i liardy Jirent, al)asird and tamed, Stood half admiring, half ashamed. 150 155 VIH. n()ldly she spoke, — "Soldiers, attend ! My father was tlu; soldier's friend ; Chcer'd him in t-amps, in marches led. And with him in tin; ])attle bled. Not from the valiant, or the strong. Should exile's daughter suffer wrong." — Answer'd De Bi'ent, most forward still In every feat or good or ill, — " 1 shame me of the part I play'd : And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ! An oatlaw I l)y forest hiws, And merry Needvvood knows the caiise. Poor Hose, — if l^ose be living now," — Tie wiped his iron eye and brow, — " Must bear such age, I think, as thou. Hear ye, my mates ; — I go to call The Captain of our ^\iltch to hall : Thei'e lies my liall)ei-d on the floor ; And he that steps my halberd o'er, To do the maid injurious part, My shaft shall cpiiver in his heart ! — Beware loose sp(;('cli, or jesting rough : Ve all know John de Brent. Enough." IGO 105 170 175 180 VI.J TIIK l-AUY OK THK I.AKK. I4;i I.\. inn luo 195 Their ('fi|>tJiiii ••aiiK', ;i ;,';i,ll;ui( y<>uii^% — (Of 'J'ulliliiiidiiic's liouso hird, Forward his speech, his l)eaiiii<^ hold. The liii^di i)or!i maiden ill could brook The scaiuung of'his curious look And dauntless eye ;— and yet, in sooth, Young Lewis was a geneious youth ; r>ut Ellen's lovely fuc(! and mien, 111 suited to the garl) and scene. Might lightly bear construction strange. And give loose fancy scope to range. " Welcome to Stirling toners, fair maid I Come ve to seek a cham))ion's aid, On palfrey white, with hai'per lioar, Like errant damosel of yore i Does thy high quest a knight re(piire, Oi' may the ventui-e suit a squii-e i " — tier dark eye ilasli'd ;— slie paused and sigh'd, — "O what have 1 to do with pi'ide ! — — Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, A suppliant for a father's life, 205 T crave an audience *.r' the King. IJehold, to back my suit, a ring, The royal pledge of grateful claims, (riven l)y thii Monarch to Fitz-James." 'JOG X. Tlie signet-ring young Lewis took. With deep respect and alter'd look 210 U4 SCOTT. [Canto V And s;ii(l, — " This I'ing our duties own ; And pardon, if to worth unknown, In semblance mean obscurely veil'd, Lady, in aught my folly fail'd. 215 Soon as the day flings wide his gates, The King shall know "what suitor waits, i^lease you, meanwhile, in fitting bower Jiepose you till his waking hour ; Female attendance shall ol)ey 220 Your best, for service or array. Permit 1 marshal you the way." But, ere she follow'd, with the grace And opci liounty of her race, She bade lier slender ])urse be shai-ed 225 Among the soldiers of the £(uard. The rest with thanks their guerdon took ; But Brent, with shy and awkward look, On the reluctant maiden's hold Forced bluntly Imck the i)rofler'd gold ; — 230 "Forgive a haughty English heart, And () forget its ruder part ! The vacant purse shall be my share. Which in my barret-cap I'll bear, Piii;li niyiird \;iiileck'd the sad walls and oaken tlooi- ; Such as (he rugged days of old i)eem"d tit for capLi^■o iioUles hold. " Mere," said Do Brent, ""thou may'st remain Till the Leech visit him again. 295 Strict is his charge, the warders tell. To tend the nohh; prisoner well." Ketiring then th(! holi he drew. And the locks nniiiiiui's gi'owl'd anew. Roused at the sound from Jowl}' hed 300 A ca[)ti\e teehly raised his head ; The Wondering Minsti'cl look'd, and knew — Not his dear lord, hut Roderick ])hu ! I^'or, -ome from mIk.'I'c Claii-Alpine fought, Thev, ei'rinu', deem'd tlu; Chief he sought. 305 Ml I. As the tall ship, whose lot't \' pi'ore Shall lu'vcr stem dx! hillows more. TO YL] I 80 i85 .'90 295 300 305 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 147 Deserted ])y lier ^'allant baud, Amid ilio ))r(>ak(U',s lies astrand, — So, on liis couch lay lloderick j)liu ! 310 And oft lii.s 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 ; 315 O ! how unlike her course at sea ! Or his free step on hill and lea ! — Soon as the INIinstrel he could scan, — '' What of thy lady ?— of my clan ?— My mother ^ — Douglas 1— tell me all ! 320 Hav^e 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.) 325 " Who fs down^.rd swift as lightning's beam. XV. ij.ittlc m ^rui iix puii^r. " TIk' Minsrrel caiue i>nco more to \ iew The east(;rn ridge oi BtriM lue, 370 s. VI.] THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 110 For ere he parted, he would say Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — Where shall he find, in foreign, land, So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! — There is no breeze upon the fern, 375 Nor ripple on the lake, Upon her eyry nods the erne. The deer has sought the brake ; The small l)inls will not sing aloud, The springing trout lies still, 380 8o darkly glooms j^on thunder-cloud, That swathes, as with a purple shroud, Benledi's distant hill. Is it the thunder's solonni sound That muttei's deep and dread, 385 Or echoes from the groaning irround The warrior's measured tread ? Is it the lightning's quivei-ing glance Tliat on the thicket streams, Or do they flash on spear and lance 390 The sun's retiring beams ? — T see the dagger-crest of Mar, I see the jNIoray's silver star, Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon wai- That up the lake conies v/inding far ! 305 To hero bouno for battle-strife, Or bard of martial lav, 'Twere worth ten years of })eaceful life. One glance at their nrray ! XV L "Theii' light ai-md ;iicli('rs fur and neat- Survey 'd iIk! tangled ground, Their ceuti'c ranks, with pike and spear, 400 150 SCOTT. [Canto V A twilight forest fntwuM, 'I'licir l)fM-(le(l horsemen, in tlie i-ear, The stem l)att;ilia crow nd. 405 No c'ynil)al clush'd, no clarion rang, Still were the pipe and drum ; =^ Save heavy tread, and armour's clang, The sullen mai-ch ^vas dumb. There ])reathed no wind their crests to shake, Or wa\e their iiags abroad ; 411 Scarce the frail aspen seemM to ([uake, That shadow'd o'er their road. Their vaward scouts no tidings bring, Can rouse no lurking foe, -115 Nor spy a ti'ace of living thmg, Save when they .stirr'd the roe ; The host moves like a deep-sea wave, Where rise no locks its pride to bi-ave. High-swelling, dark, and slow, 420 The lake is passM, and now they gain A narrow and a l)i'okcn plain. Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws ; And here the horse and spearmen pause, While, to explore the dangerous glen, 425 Dive through the pass the archev-men. XV IF. "At once there rose so vihi i, yell Within that dark and nan-o, rleli, As I'l the fiends, from heaven 'rrvt fell. Had peal'd the hanner-rry of he,' ! Forth f?'o)a *he pass iii tumult :ri\<'n, liikt! chail' before t.l .; wind of licascn. The arch cm: appear : i'^or Jife ! fo:' life 1 Uieir tlight they ply — 430 VT.] TIIK LAI'V <»l" '1(1 K I.VKK 151 And slirick, and shout., and hattlo-cry, 435 AikI i)lai(ls iiiul ])()iuiots waving high, Arid ])roads\\()rds ilasliiiig to the sky, Aro inaddcniing in the I'cai". OiiNvai-d they drive, in dreadful r;ice, Pursuers and pui'sued ; 410 liefore that tide of llight and chase, How shall it keep its rooted place, The spearmen's twilight wood ? — ' Down, down,' cried JNlar, 'your lances down ! Bear back both friend and foe ! ' — 445 Like retnls before the tempest's frown, That seri'ied gi'ove of lances brown At once lay le\(!ird low ; And closely shouldering side to side, The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 450 * We'll quell the savage mountaineer, As their Tinchel cows the game ! They come as fleet as forest (h'er, We'll drive them back as tame' — XVIII. " KeariniT before them, in their course, 455 The relics of the arclier foi'ce, like wave with crest of sparkling foam, Kight onward did CIan-Al})ine come. Above the tide, each l)roadsword l)right Was brandishing like beam of light, 4G0 Each tai-ge was dar-l-: l)elow ; And with the ocean's niiglity swing, When h(>aving to the tempest's wing, They InuTd them on the foe. r heard the lance's shivering crash, 465 As when the whii'lwiiid lends the ash ; 162 SCOTT. [c ANTO VI. I heai-d the broadsword's deadly clang, As if a hundred anvils rang ! But Moray wlieel'd his rearward rank Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's Hank, 470 — ' My l)anner-inan, advance ! I see,' he cried, ' their column shake. — Now, gallants 1 for your ladies' sake, Upon them with the lance ! ' — The horsemen diodi'd among the rout, 475 As deer break through the bj'oom ; Their steeds are slout, their swords are out. They soon make lightsome room. Clan- Alpine's best are backward borne — Where, where was Kodei-ick then ! 480 One blast upon his ])Ugle-horn AVere worth a thousand men. And refluent through the pass of fear Th(^ battle's tide was pou r"d ; Yanish'd the 8axon's struggling spear, 485 Vanish'd the mountarx-sword. As Bracklinn's chasm, so Ijlack and steep, Keceives her roaring linn, As the dark caverns of the deep Suck the wild whirlpool in, 490 So did the deep and darlcsome pass Devour the battle's miniiled mass : None linger now upon the plain, Save those who ne'er shall fight again. XIX. " Now westward rolls the l^attle's din. That deep and doubling pass within, — Minstrel, away ! the work of fate 495 TO VI.] THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 153 70 75 30 35 }0 )5 Is bearing on : its issue wait, Where the rude Tt'osachs' (h-cad dofile Opens on Katrine's, lake and isle. — 500 Grey Benvenue I soon repass'd, Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. The sun is set ; — the clouds are met, The lowering scowl of heaven An inky hue of livid blue 505 To the deep lake has given • Strange gusts of wind from mountain-glen Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. I heeded not the eddying sui-gc, Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, 510 Mine ear but heard that sullen sound. Which like an earthquake shook the ground, And .'-poke tlie stern and desperate strife That parts not but with parting life, Seeming, to minstrel ear, to +oll 515 The dirge of many a passing soul. Keart ;■ it comes — the dim-wood glen The martial ilood disgorged again. But not in mingled tide ; The plaided warriors of the North 520 High on the mountain thunder forth And overhang its side ; While by the lake below appears The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears. At weary bay each shatter'd band, 525 Eyeing their foemen, stei'nly stand ; Their banners stream like tatter'd sail. That flings its fragments to the gale. And broken arms and disarray Mark'd the fell havoc of the day. 530 154 sroTT. [Canto VI.] XX. " Viewing the niountains riclge askance, Tlic Saxon stood in siilleii trance, Till Moray jM»into(l witli liis lance, And cried — ' Behold yon isle I- - See ! none are left to guard its sli-and, f)35 But women weak, that wring tlic hand : Tis there of yore the robber ))a)id Their l)ooty wont to pile ; — My purse, with boniK^t-pieces store, To liini will swiin a bow-slu>t oVi-, 540 And loose a shallop from the shore. Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then, J.ords of his mate, and brood, and den.' Forth from the raidcs a sjx^ai'man sprung. On earth his casenvenue A mingled echo gave ; The 8axons shout their mate to cheer, 650 The helpless fY OF THE LAKE. 155 — Just then a llusli of lightning cjijnc, It tinged the waves and strand with Hanie ; — T mark'd Duncraggan's widow'd dame, r)65 r>ehind an oak I saw her stand, A naked dirk gleam'd in her liand : — Tt darken'd, — ))ut amid the moan Of waves, I heard a dying gi'oan ; — Another Hash ! — the spearman floats r>7() A w'cdtering corse beside the boats, And the stern matron o'er him stood. Her hand and dagger streaming blood. XXI. " 'Revenge ! revenge I ' the Saxons eried. The Gaels' exulting shout replied. Despite the elemental I'age, Again they huri'ied to engage ; But, ere they closed in desperate fight, lUoody with spurring came a knight, Bprung from his horse, and, from a crag, Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-\vhit(^ Hag. Clarion and trumpet by his side Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, While, in tlui iMoiiarch's name, afar An herald's voicj^ forbade the war. For Bothwells lord, and Roderick bold, AVere both, he said, in captive hold." — But here the lay made sudden stand. The harp escaped the jMinstrel's hand ! — Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy lb)\v Roderick })rook'd Ids minstrelsy : At first, the Chieftain, to the chime, With liftcnl hand, kc})t feebh^ time ; That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 575 580 585 590 ^, ,.r*'^^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // ^ 1.0 I.I I1.25 l^|2g 12.5 j|5o "^•' HHIi 2.0 us 1.4 1.6 /: :^ > m m ''W '/ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 K %o . -6^ ^ ".^ 156 SCOTT. [Canto VI i^ Yariod liis look as clianged the song ; 595 At length, no more his deafen'd ear The minstrel melody can hear ; His face grows sharp, — his hands are clench'd, As if some pang his heart-strings wrench'd ; Set are his teeth, his fading eye GOO Is sternly fix'd on vacancy ; Thus, motionless and moanless, drew His parting breath, stout Roderick Dim ! — ( )ld xillan bane look'd on aghast, While grim and still his spirit pass'd ; 605 But when he saw that life was tied, He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead. XXII. l-'.imcnt. " And art thou cold and lowly laid. Thy foemen's dread, thy people's aid, Breadalbane's boast. Clan- Alpine's shade ! 610 For thee sliall none a re(raiem say 1 — For thee, — who loved the minstrel's lay, For thee, of Both well's house the stay. The shelter of her exiled line. E'en in this prison-house of thine, 615 I'll wail for Alpine's honour'd Pine ! " What groans shall yonder valleys till ! What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill I What tears of bui'uing rage shall thrill. When mourns thy tiibe thy battles done, 620 Thy fall liefore the race was won. Thy swoi-d uii'di't ere set of sun ! There breathes not clansman of thy line, - But would have givt^i his life for thine. — U woe for Alpine's honour'd Fine ! - 625 VT.] THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 15: GOO " Sad was tliy lot oji mortal staije ! — The captive thrush in.-iy ])i'o()k tlw ^'age, The prison VI caglo dios for rage. Brave spirit, do not scorn my sti-aiii ! And, when its notes awake again. Even she, so long beloved in vain. Shall with my liarp her voice comhine, And mix her woe and tears with mine, To wail Clan- Alpine's honoured Pine." — G30 605 610 615 620 625 xxin. Ellen, the while, with bursting heart, 035 Remained in lordly bower apart, Where play'd, with many-colour'd gleams. Through storied pane the rising beams. Tn vain on gilded roof they fall, And lightend up a tapestried wall, 640 And for her use a menial train A rich collation spread in vain. The banquet proud, the cli amber gay, Scarce drew one curious glance astray ; Or if she look'd, 'twas but to say, 645 With l)etter omen dawnVl the dav Tn that lone isle, where waved on high The dun-deer's hide for canopy ; Where oft her noble father shared The simple meal her care prepared, 650 While Lufra, crouching by her side, Her station claim'd with jealous pride. And Douglas, bent on woodland game, Spoke of the chase to IMalcolm Giwme, Whose answer, oft at random made, 655 The wanderitig of his tlioughts betray'd. — Those who such simple joys have known. 158 SCOTT. [Canto An; tausjlit to pri/*' ihcni wlioii tlipy're /^oiie, iJut su(l(i(M», scr, sho lilts luT head ! The Avitulow seeks with cautious tread. 660 What distant music has the power To win her in this woeful hour ! 'Twas from a turret tliat o'erhuu*,^ Her latticed hower, the strain was sung. XXIV. |):ii) of the Emprieoncb ^luutsmnu. "My hawk is tired of })erch and hood, 665 IMy idle greyhound loathes his food, My horse is weary of his stall, And I am sick of captive thrall. I wish I were as I have been, Hunting the hart in forest green, 670 With l)ended bow and bloodhound free. For that's the life is meet for me. I hate to learn the ebb of time From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime. Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 075 Inch after inch, along the wall. The lark was wont my matins ring. The sable rook my vespers sing ; These towers, although a king's they be. Have not a hall of joy for me. 680 No more at dawning nioi-n T rise, And sun myself in FiUen's e3'es. Drive the fleet deer the forest through, And homeward wend with evening dew ; A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 685 And lay my trophies at her feet. While fled the eve on wini; of i^lee, — That life is lost to love and me I " VT.] TIIK LADY OP TIM-: LAKK. 159 660 665 670 675 680 xxv. The lienrt-sick lay was hardly said, The list'ner had not turii'd her head, 690 rt trickled still, the starting tear, When light a footstep struck her ear, And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near. She tui-n'd the hastier, iest again The prisoner should renew his strain. 695 *' O welcome, brave Fit/.- James ! " she said ; *' How may an almost orphan maid Pay the deep debt" " O say not so ! To me n<:> gratitude you owe. Not mine, alas ! the boon to give, 700 And bid thy noble father live ; I can but he thy guide, sweet maid, With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. No tyrant he, though ire and pride May lay his better mood aside. 705 Come, Ellen, come ! 'tis more than time, He holds his court at morning prime." With beating heart, and bosom wrung. As to a brother's arm she clung. Gently he dried the falling tear, 710 And gently whisper'd hoj)e and cheer ; Her faltering steps half led, half stayeil, Through gallery fair and high arcade, Till, at his touch, its wings of pride A portal arch unfolded wide. 715 685 XXVI. Withui 'twas brilliant all and light, A thronging scene of figures bright ; It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight, IGO SCOTT. [Canto As wlioii llio setting sun lias given T«'n tlumsand hues to .summer even, And from their tissue, fancv frames Aerial kniglits and fairy dames. Still hy Fitz-James her footing staid; A few faint steps she forward made, Then slow her drooping head she raised, And fearful round the presence gazed ; Kor him she sought, who own'd this ;itate, The dreaded Prince whose will was fate ! — She gazed on many a princely port, Might well have ruled a royal court ; On many a splendid garb she gazed, — Then turn'd bewilder'd and amazed, For all stood bare ; and, in the room, Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. To him each lady's look was lent ; On him each courtier's eye was bent ; Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen. He stood, in simple Lincoln green, The centre of the glittering ring, — And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King ! '7( 720 '•J5 730 '35 740 XXVII. As wreath of snow, on mountain-breast, Slides from the rock that gave it rest, Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; No word her choking voice commands, — 745 She sliow'd the ring — she clasp'd her hands. O ! not a moment could he brook, The generous prince, that suppliant look ! Gently he raised her, — and, the while, Check'd with a glance the circle's smile ; 750 ^'I] THE LADY OF TIIK LAKK 161 720 '25 730 '35 Grafcful, l)ut gmvo, her brow Ik; kiss'd. And bade lier terrors be disiniss'd : - " Yes, Fair ; the wandering poor Fitz-Janirs The fealty of Scotland claims. To hiiH thy woes, thy wishes, l)ring ; 75.^ He will redeem his si)uglas ; — yester even, His prince and he have much foririven : Wrong hath he had from slandei'ous tongu*', I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. ~{\{) We would not, to the vulgar crowd, Yield what they craved with clamour loud ; Calmly we heard and judged his cause. Our c(juncil aided, and our laws. T stanch'd thy father's death-feud stern, Ti),") With stout ])e Yaux and (Jrey (Jlencairn ; And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own The friend and bulwark of our Throne. But, lovely infidel, how now 1 What clouds thy misbelieving bro\\ ? 770 Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; Thou must confirm this doubtini; maid." XXVIII. ■45 Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, And on his neck his dauijhter liunir. The monarch drank, that happy hour. The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — When it can say, with g(xllike voice. Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice 1 Yet would not James the general eye On Nature's raptures long should pry ; He stepp'd between—" Nay, Douglas, nay, 11 / I •) 780 tl 162 SCOTT. [Canto Steal iiol my |>rose;lyte away ! The riddle 'tis my ri<;:lit to i-ead, That l)r<»uglit this hapj)y chance to speed. — Yes, Ellen, when dis<,aiis«'d I stray 7<^.~) In lif(?'s more low hut hai)i)ier way, 'Tis undcu' name which veils my power, Nor falsely veils — for Stirling's tower Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims. And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 700 Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, Thus learn to right the injured cause." — Then, in a tone apart and low, — "Ah, little traitress ! none must know What idle dream, what lighter thought, 795 What vanity full dearly bought, Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew ]My spell-bound steps to Benvenue, In dangerous hour, and all l)ut gave Thy monarch's life to mountain glaive I '' — SOO Aloud he spoke — "Thou still dost hold That little talisman of g<^ld, Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring — What seeks fair Ellen of the King t " XXIX. Full well the conscious maiden guess'd 805 He probed the weakness of her breast ; But, with that consciousness, there came A lightening of her fears for Gramme, And more she decnn'd the monarch's ire Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire 810 Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; And, to her generous feeling true. She craved the grace of Roderick Dim, Canto vt.i THE LADY OF TIIK LAKE. 163 785 700 795 son 805 " Forlxjur thy suit :~tli(' Ku\ SKNT ItV MV F.ITTLK HOV. It, is llio lirst mild fc every pore Tlie spii'it of the season. Some silent laws v)ur hearts will make, Which they shall long obey : 30 We for the year to come may take Our temper from to-day. And from the blessed power that rolls About, below, above, We'll frame the measure of our souls : 35 They shall be tuned to love. Then come, my Sister ! come, I pray, With speed put on your woodland dress ; And bring no book : for this one clay We'll «ave to idleness. 40 EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY. " Why, William, on that old gray stone, Thus for the length of half a day — Why, William, sit you thus alcme And dream your time av ay I " Where are your books, that light becjueathed 5 To beings else forlorn and blind l U[), up ! and drink the spirit breathed From dead men to their kind. " You look round on your mother Earth / s if she for no purpose bore you ; As if you were her tirst-born birth, And none had lived before you." 10 25 30 35 40 10 THE TABLES TUHNED. One nioT'nini; tlius, })v Estliwaite lake. When life was sweet, I knew not why, To me my good friend Matthew spake, And thus I made reply : " The eye, it cannot clioose Vjut see ; We cannot bid the ear be still ; Our bodies feel, where'er they be. Against or with our will. " No: less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress ; Tha J we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness. " Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum Of things forever speaking. That nothina: of itself will come, But we must still be seeking ] —" Then ask not wherefore, here, alone, Conversing as I may, I sit upon this old gray stone. And dream mv tin'ie away.' 167 thp: tables turned; AN EVENING SCENE ON THE FAME SUBJECT. Up, up ! my Friend, and quit your ])ookK, Or surely you'll grow double ; Up, up ! my Friend, and clear your looks ; Why all this toil and trouble 1 The sun, above the mountain's head, A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has sprtvul, His first sweet evening yellow. 15 20 25 30 6 168 I ; WORDSWORTH. i3o< Ks 1 'tis a (lull and ontlless strife ; (\)ine, hoar the woodland linnet, How sweet his music ! on my life, There's nioi-e of wisdom in it. And hark ! liow blithe the throstle sings ! He, too, is no mean preacher ; Come foi'tli into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher. She has a world of ready wealth, Our minds and hearts to bless — Spontaneous wisdom breathed l)y health, Truth breathed by cheerfulness. One impulse fi'om a vernal wood May teach you more of man. Of moral evil and of good. Than all the sages can. Sweet is the lore which Nature ))rings ; Our meddling intellect AFisshapes the beauteous fcn'ms of things : We nnuder to dissect. Enou^i^h of science and of art ; Close up these barren leaves : Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watchtis and receives. 10 16 20 25 30 , ^ TNFr.UENCE OF NATURAL OBJECTS IN (\\LI,1N(; FORTH AND STHENGTHENINO TIFE IMAGINATION OF ROVHOOD AND EARLY YOUTH. Wisdom and Spirit of the universe ' Thou Soul that art the Eternity of thouglit, And givest to forms and imagers a breath And eveilasting motioti ! not in vain, I i i 1 I INFLUENCK OF NATURAL OHJKCTS. 169 10 16 By (lay or starlight, thus from my first davvn Of chiidli(jod didst thou iiitei'twiiie for me The passhms that build up our human soul ; Not with the mean and vulgar works of man, But with high objects, with enduring things, With life and nature : purifying thus The elements of feeling and of thought, And sanctifying by such discipline Both pain and fear, until we recognize A grandeur in the beatings of the heart. 10 20 25 30 ?^ OF Nor w^as this fellowship vouchsafed to me 15 With stinted kindness. In November days, When vapours rolling down the valleys nuide A lonely scene more lonesome ; among wootls At noon, and 'mid the calm of su inner nighis, AV^hen, by the margin of the treuibling lake, 20 Beneath the gloomy hills, I homeward went In solitude, such intercourse was mine : 'Twas mine among the fields both day and night. And by the waters, all the summer long. And in the frosty season, when the sun 25 Was set, and, visil)le for many a mile. The cottage windows throuirh the twilijxht Ijlazed, I heeded not the summons : happy time It was indeed for all of us ; for me It was a time of rapture ! Clear and loud 30 The village clock tolled six ; I wheeled about Proud and exulting, like an untired horse That cares not for his home. All shod with steel We hissed along the polished ice, in games Confederate, imitative of the chase 35 And woodland pleasures — the resounding horn. The pack loud-bellowing, and the hunted hare. I 170 WORDS wo iri'H. So throu(;h the darkness nm] tlit> cold we flew, And not a voice was idle. AVith tlie din Mcansvhile tlie precipices rang aloud ; 40 The leafless trees and eveiy icy crag Tinkled like iron ; while the distant hills Into the tuumlt sent an. alien sound ( )f inelanch(»ly, not uiuioticed, while the stars Eastward were sparkling clear, and in the west 45 The orange sky of eveiung died awa}-. Not seldom from the uproar I retired Into a silent bay, or sporti\ely (danced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng To cut across the retlex of a star ; 50 Imj'.gft that, flying still hefoi-e me, gleamed Upon the grassy plain ; and oftentimes. When Ave had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still 55 The rapid line of motion, then at once Have I, reclining l)ack upon my heels. Stopped short ; yet still the solitary cliffs Wheeled by me — even as if the earth had rolled With visible motion her diurnal round ! 60 liehind me did they sti-etch in solemn train, Keebler and feebler, and T stood and watched Till all was tranquil as a sunnner sea. NUTTING. -It seems a day {I speak of one fi'om many siiiglod out) — C)ne of those heavenly days w'lich cannot die ; When, i!i the eagerness of boyish hopi;, NUTTING. 171 40 45 50 till 55 60 I left our cottage threshold, sallying forth With a huge wallet o'er inv shoulders slull<^ A nutting-crook in hand, and turned my steps Towards the distant woods, a iigure quaint. Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds Which for that service liad been huslmnded, By exhortation of my frugal dame ; Motley accoutrement, of power to smile At thorns and brakes and brambles, and, in truth, More ragged than need was ! Among the woods, And o'er the pathless rocks, I forced my way Until, at length, I came to one dear nook Unvisited, where not a broken bough Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign Of devastation, but the hazels i ose Tall and erect, with milk-white clusters hung, A virgin scene ! -A little while I stood, Breathing with such suppression of the heart As joy delights in ; and, with wise restraint Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed The banquet; or beneath the trees I sate Among the flowers, and with the flowers T })layed ; A temper known to those -ho, after long And weary ex})ectation, have been blest With sudden happiness beyond all hope. Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves The violets of five seasons reappear And fade, unseen by any human eye ; Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on Forever : and I saw the sparkling foam. And —with my cheek on one of those green stones That, fleeced with moss, beneath the shady trees, Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep — 1 heard the munnur and the nun'muring sound. 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 172 WORDSWORTH. nil! Tn that sweet mood wlieii pleasure litves to pay Tn])ute to ease ; and, of its joy secure, 40 The heart hixuriates witli indifferent things, WastiniT its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air. Then up I rose, And draufijfed to earth both branch and ))oii