THE LADY OF THE LAKE, [UHIYBIlSlTTl Then through the dell hi^ horn resound From vain pursuit to call the hounds. Pa^e n THE LADY OF THE LAKE. A POEM. BY SIR WALTER SCOTT. ILLUSTRATED. fj^> Of TBM (UHITBRSITTl PHILADELPHIA J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 188i. ^3 /J- TO THE MOST NOBLE JOHN JAMES, MAEQUIS OF ABEKCOEN, ETC^ ETC^ ETC^ Jhis Y^ OEM IS NSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. V4^> 0? THl ^ I7BESIT7 U ^IPO ^3 6^^^ CONTENTS. FIRST CANTO • • • • THE CHASE. SECOND CANTO THE ISLAND. THIRD CANTO THE GATHERING. FOURTH CANTO ••••••••• THE PROPHECY. FIFTH CANTO • . . . . THE COMBAT. SIXTH CANTO •••••••••• THE GUARD-ROOiVL %^^ Of [TJiriT; 4£_^m.i^ ARGUMENT. The scene of the following Poem is laid chiefly in the vicinity of Loch-Katrine, in the Westera Highlands of Perth- shire. The time of action includes six lays, and the trans- actions of each day occupy a canto. T4^ ^ 0» THl ^ I71ESITT OW ^rrqi THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO FIRST. Harp of the North I that mouldering long hast hung On the witch-eim that shades Saint Fillan's spring, And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung. Till envious ivy did around thee cling, Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep ? Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring. Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a msid to weep * Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd. When lay of hopeless love, or glory won, Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud. 14 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. At each according pause was heaiQ aloud Thine ardent symphony, sublime and high ! Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bow'd ; For still the burden of thy minstrelsy Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye wake once more ! how rude soe'er the hand That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ^ wake once more ! though scarce my skill conunana Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay : Though harsh and faint, ana soon to die away, And all unworthy of thy nobler strain, Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, The wizard note has not been touch'd in vain. Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again' THE CHASE. 15 I. The Slag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Mqnan's riD, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Gleaartney's hazel shade , But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoidich's head, The deep-mouth'd blood-hound's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way, And faint, from farther distance borne, Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. n As Chief, who hears his warder call, « To arms ' the foemen storm the wall,'* The antler'd monarch of the waste Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; Like crested leader proud and high, Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky ; A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment snufF'd the tainted gale, A moment listen'd to the cry^ That thicken' d as the chase cVew nigh : 16 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Then, as the headmost foes appear'd, With one brave bound the copse he clear' d. And, stretching forward free and far. Sought the wild heaths of Uam-V ar Vell'd on the view the opening pack. Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back ; To many a mingled sound at once The awaken'd mountain gave response. An hundred dogs bay'd deep and strong, Clatter'd an hundred steeds along, Their peal the merry horns rung out, An hundred voices join'd the shout ; With hark and whoop and wild halloo, No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. Far from the tumult fled the roe, Close in her covert cower' d the doe. The falcon, from her cmn on high, Cast on the rout a wondering eye, Till far beyond her piercing ken The hurricane had swept the glen. Faint, and more faint, its failing din Return'd from cavern, cliff, and lign. And silence settled, wide and still, On the lone wood and mi<,dity hill. THE CHASE. 17 rsr. Less loud the sounds of sj;lvan war Disturb 'd the heights of Uam-Var, And roused the cavern, where 'tis told A giant 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 breathe his faltering horse ; And of the trackers of the deer Scarce half the lessening pack was near| So shrewdly, on the mountain side, Had the bold burst their mettle tried. ihe noble Stag was pausing now Upon the mountain's southern brow, Where broad extended, far beneath, The varied ealms of fair Menteith. With anxious eye he wander'd o'er Mountain and meadow, moss and moor^ And ponder'd refuge from his toil. By far Lochard or A^erfoyle. But nearer was the copse- wood gray, That waved and wept on Loch-Achray, And mingled with the pine-trees blue On die bold cliffs of Ben-vemie.'' 18 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Fresh vigour with the hope returned, With flying foot the heath he spum'd Held westward with unwearied race. And left behind the panting chase. / VI. 'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, As swept the hunt through Cambus-More ; What reins were tighten' d in despair, ^Vhen rose Benledi's ridge in air ; Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath, Who shunn'd to stem the flooded Teith,— For twice, that day, from shore to shore, The gallant Stag swam stoutly o'er. Few were the stragglers, following far, That reach'd the lake of Vennachar ; X. "^ ^^^ when the Brigg of Turk was won, The headmost horseman rode alone. VII. Alone, but with unbated zeal, That horseman plied the scourge and steel | For, jaded now, and spent with toil, Emboss'a with foam, and dark with soil, Wliile every gasp with sobs he drew, The lab'rin<^ Stas; strain'd full in view. THE CHASE 19 Two dogs of black St. Hubert's breed, Unmatch'd for courage, breath, and speed, Fast on his flying traces came, And all but won that desperate game ; FoF; scarce a spear's length from his haunch, Vindictive toil'd the blood-hounds staunch; Nor nearer might the dogs attain, Nor farther might the quarry strain. Thus up the margin of the lake, Between the precipice and brake. O'er stock and rock their race they take. VIII. The hunter mark'd that mountain high, The lone lake's western boundary. And deem'd the Stag must turn to bay. Where that huge rampart barr'd the way ; Already glorying in the prize. Measured his antlers with his eyes ; For the death-wound, and death-halloo, Muster' d his breath, his whiny^ard drew; But thundering as he came prepared, With ready arm and weapon bared, The wily quarry shunn'd the shock, And turn'd him from th' opposing rock; Then, dashing down a darksome glen, Soon lost to hound and hunter's k^a* 80 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook His solitary refuge took. There, while close couchM, the thicket shed Cold dews and wild flowers on his head. He heard the baffled dogs in vam Rave through the hollow pass amam, Chiding the rocks that yell'd again. IX. Close on the hounds the hunter came, To cheer them on the vanish' d game ; But, stumbling in the rugged dell, The gallant horse exhausted fell. 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, . . ^. He sorrow^'d o'er the expiring horse. ^ "I little thought, when first thy rein ^p I slack'd upon the banks of Seine, That Highland eagle e'er should feed On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed i Wp w^orth the chase, wo worth the day, lliat costs thy life, my gallant gray !"-— THE CHASE. 21 X. Then through the del] his horn resounds, From vain pursuit to call the hounds. Back limp'd, with slow and crippled pace, The sulky leaders of the chase ; Close to their master's side they press'd, With drooping tail and humbled crest ; But still the dingle's hollow throat Prolong'd the swelling bugle note. The owlets started from their dream, The eagles answer' d with their scream , Round and around the sounds were cast Till echo ^eem'd an answering blast ; And on the hunter hied his way, To join some comrades of the day ; Yet often paused, so strange the road, S^ wondrous were the scenes it showM. ^ XI. The western waves of ebbing day Roll'd o'er the glen their level way, Each purple peak, each flinty spire, Was bathed in floods of living fire. But not a setting beam could glow W^ithin the dark ravines below, Wliere twined the path, in shadow hid, Round many a rocky pyramid, 22 THE LAlDY of THE LAKE. Shooting abruptly from the dell Its thunder-splinter'd pinnacle Round many an insulated mass, The native bulwarks of the pass, ; Huge as the tower which builders vam Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plainA The rocky summits, split and rent, Form'd turret, dome, or battlement, Or seem'd fantastically set With cupola or minaret ; /v'^ Wild crests as pag;od ever deek'd, Or mosque of Eastern architect. Nor w^ere these earthborn castles bare, Nor lack'd they many a banner fair ; For, from their shiver'd brows displayed, Far o'er the unfathomable glade, All twinkling w4th the dew-drop sheen, The briar-rose fell in streamers green. And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes. Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs XII. Boon nature scatter'd, free and wild, EacL plant, or flower, the mountain's cLild Here Vglantine embalm' d the air, Ha\\1;horn and hazel iniii^lcd there ; THE CHASE. 23 The prlmroie pale, and violet flower, Found in each cliff a narrow bower; Foxglove and nightshade, side by side, Emblems of punishment and pride, Group'd their dark hues with every stain The weather-beaten crags retain. With boughs that quaked at every breath, Gray birch and aspen w^ept beneath ; Aloft, the ash and warrior oak Cast anchor in the rifted rock; And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung His shatter'd trunk, and frequent flung, Where seem'd the cliffs to meet on high. His boughs athwart the narrow'd sky. Highest of all w^here white peaks glanced, Where glist'ning streamers w^aved and danced The wanderer's eye could barely view The summer heaven's delicious blue ; So wondrous wild, the whole might seem The scenery of a fairy dream. XIII. Onward, amid the copse, 'gan peep A narrow inlet, still and deep, Affording scarce such breadth of brim, As served the wild- duck's brood to swim ; 34 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, Lost for a space, through thickets VQ^juag, But broader when again appearing, Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face Could on the dark-blue mirr.)r trace ; And, farther, as the punter stray'd, Still broader sweep its channels made. The shaggy mounds no longer stood Emerging from entangled wood, But, wave-encircled, seem'd to floaty Like castle girdled with its moat ; Yet broader floods extending still, Divide them from their parent hill. Till each, retiring^ claims to be An islet in an inland sea. , XIV. And now, to issue from the glen, No pathway meets the wanderer's kett. Unless he climb, with footing nice, A far projecting precipice. The broom's tough roots his ladder made. The hazel saplings lent their aid ; \nd tlms an airy point he won. Where, gleaming with the setting sun, One burnish'd sheet of living gold, LocW^trine low beneath him roUM ; THE CHASR Vo In all her len^^h far winding lay, With piQiiiantory, creek, and bay, And islands thit, empurpled bright, Floated amid the livelier light ; And mountains, that like giants stand. To sentinel enchanted land. High on the south huge Ben-venue Dov^n on the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and mounds, confus'dly huil'^. The fragments of an earlier w^orld. A wildering forest feather'd o'er His ruin'd sides and summit hoar, While on the north, through middle air, Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. XV. From the steep promontory gazed The stranger, raptured and amazed. And, « What a scene were here," he cried, "For princely pomp or churchman's pride' On this bold brow a lordly tower ; In that soft vale a lady's bower ; On yonder meadow, far away, The turrets of a cloister gray. How blithely might the bugle hom Chide, or) the lake, the lingering mom! aO THE LADY OF THE LAKE, How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute Chime, when the gro'^es were still and mute . And, when the midnight moon should lave Her forehead in the silver wave, How solemn on the ear would come The holy matin's distant hum, While the deep peal's commanding tone Should wake, in yonder islet lone, A sainted hermit from his cell, To drop a bead with every knell — And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, Should each bewilder'd stranger call To friendly feast, and lighted hall. i XVI. << Blithe were it then to wander here ! But now, — beshrew yon nimble deer,— Like that same hermit's, thin and spare The copse must give my evening fare ; Some mossy bank my couch must be, Some rustling oak my canopy. Yet pass we that ; — the war and chase Give little choice of resting-place; — A summer night, in green-wood spent, Were but to-morrow's merriment ; But hosts may in these wilds abound. Such as are better miss'd than found. THE CHASK 87 To meet with Highland plunderers here Were worse than loss of steed or deer--*- I am alone ; my bugle strain Mav call some straggler of the train i Or, fall the worst that may betide, Ere now this faulchion has been tried." But scarce again his horn he wound, When lo ! forth starting at the sound, From underneath an aged oak, That slanted from the islet rock, A Damsel, guider of its way, "^ A little skiff shot to the bay, That round the promontory steep Led its deep line in graceful sweep, Eddying, in almost viewless wave, The weeping willow twig to lave, And kiss, with whispering sound and slow, The beach of pebbles bright as snow. The boat had touch'd this silver strand, Just as the hunter left his stand. And stood conceaPd amid the brake, To view this Lady of the Lake. The maiden paused, as if again She thought to catch the distant strain. THE LADY OF THE LAKE With head upraised, and look intent, And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back, and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art. In list'ning 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 . What though the sun, with acdent frown, Had slightly tinged 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 Short glimpses of a breast of snow. "What though no rule of courtly grace To measured mood had train'd her pace, — A foot more light, a step more true. Ne'er from the heath-flower dash'd the dew ; E'en the slight hare-bell raised its head. Elastic from her airy tread. What though upon her speech there hung The accents of the mountain tongue, — Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, The list'ner held his breath to hear. THE CHASE. XIX, A chieftain's daughter seem'd the maid • Her satin snood, her silken plaid, Her golden brooch, such birth betray'd. And seldom was a snood amid Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, Whose glossy black to shame might bring The plumage of the raven's wing , And seldom o'er a breast so fair Mantled a plaid with modest care, And never brooch the fold combined Above a heart more good and kind. Her kindness and her worth to spy, You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; Not Katrine, in her mirror blue, Gives back the shaggy banks more true, Than every free-born glance confess'd The guileless movements of her breast ; Whether joy danced in her dark eye, Or wo or pity claim'd a sigh. Or filial love was glowing there. Or meek devotion pour'd a prayer, Or tale of injury call'd forth The indignant spirit of the north. One only passion, unreveal'd, W^ith maiden pride the maid concealed 30 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Yet not less purely felt the flame : — O need I tell that passion's name ! XX. Impatient of the silent horn, Now on the gale her voice was borne : <« Father!" she cried; the rocks around Loved to prolong the gentle sound. Awhile she paused, no answer came. — « Malcolm, was thine the blast ?" The name Less resolutely utter'd fell, The echoes could not catch the swell. " A stranger I," the Huntsman said, Advancing from the hazel shade. The maid, alarm'd, with hast) oar Push'd her light shallop from the shore, And when a space was gain'd between, Closer she drew her bosom screen, (So forth the startled swan would swing, So turn to prune his ruffled wing ;) Then safe, though flutter'd and amazed, She paused, and on the stranger gazed. Not his the form, nor his the eye, That j< uthfui maidens wont to fly. THE CHASE. 81 XXI. On his bold visage middle age Had slightly press' d its signet sage^ Yet had 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 sparkling glance, soon blown to foc^ Of hasty love, or headlong ire. .'^ i His limbs were cast in manly mould, 4 I For hardy sports, or contest bold ; And though in peaceful garb array'd, And weaponless, except his blade, His stately mien as well implied A high-born heart, a martial pride, As if a baron's crest he wore, And sheathed in armour trod the shore. Slighting the petty need he show'd. He told of his benighted road ; His ready speech flow'd fair and free. In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; Yet seem'd that tone, and gesture blandj Less used to sue than to command. XXII. Awhile the maid the Stranger eyed, And, reassured, at len2:th replied. 32 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. That Highland halls were ope-'' stiU Tc wilder'd wanderers of the hill. « Nor think you unexpected come To yon lone Isle, our desert home ; Before the heath had lost the dew, This morn, a couch was pulPd for you ; On yonder mountain's purple head Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, And our broad nets have swept the mart To furnish forth your evening cheer." — < With friends whose hearts were long estranged. 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, were his senses false or true ! Dream'd he of death, or broken- vow. Or is it all a vision now ' THE CHASE. 43 XXXIT. At length with Ellen in a grove He seem'd to walk, and speak of love ; She I'jsten'd with a blush and sigh. His suit was warm, his hopes were high. He sought her yielded hand to clasp, A.*d a cold gauntlet met his grasp : The phantom's sex was changed and gone 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. — He woke, and, panting with atfrigtil, RecalPd the vision of the night. The hearth's decaying brands were red, And deep and dusky lustre shed, Half showing, half concealing all The uncouth trophies of the hall. Mid those the Stranger fixed his eye Where that huge faulchion hung on high, And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, Rush' J, chasing countless thoughts along, Until, the giddy whirl to cure, He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. 44 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. XXXV. The wild rose, eglantine, and broom, Wasted around their rich perfume ; The birch trees wept in fragrant balm. The aspen slept beneath the calm ; The silver light, with quivering glance , Play'd on the water's still expanse, — Wild were the heart whose passion's sway Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 'He felt its calm, that warrior guest. While thus he communed with his breatf " Why IS it at each turn I trace Some memory of that exiled race ? Can I not mountain maiden spy, But she must bear the Douglas eye ? Can I not view a Highland brand, But it must match the Douglas hand ? Can I not frame a fever'd dream, But still the Douglas is the theme ?— PU 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 mon '— His midnight orison he told, A prayer with every bead of gold, THE CHASE. 45 Cousign'd to heaven his cares and woes, And sunk in undisturbed repose ; Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, Aod morning dawn'd on Ben-venue. CANTO SECOND. At morn tie black-cock trims his jetty wing. 'Tis morning prompts the linnets blithest lay All Nature's children feel the matin spring Of life reviving, with reviving day ; And while yon little bark glides down the baTj Wafting the Stranger on his way again, Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray, And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, Mix'd witn the sounding harp, white-halr'd Allax Baufl Tl. 50NG. *< Not faster yonaer rowers' might Fling from their oars tne spray, Not fa. Wo, want, and exile thou sustain Beneath the fickle gale ; Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, On thankless courts, or friends estranged, But come where kindred worth shall smitej To greet thee in the lonely isle." — IV. As died the sounds upon the tide, The shallop reach'd the main-land side. And ere his onward way he took, ^ The Stranger cast a lingering look, Where easily his eye might reach The Harper on the islet beach. Reclined against a blighted tree, As wasted, gray, and worn as he. To minstrel meditation given, His reverend brow was raised to heaveiij As from the rising sun to claim A sparkle of inspiring flame. His hand, reclined upon the wire, Seem'd watching the awakening fire ; So still he sate, as those who wait Till judgment speak the doom of fate ; THE ISLAND. 40 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 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 ?-«» Forgive, forgive, Fidelity ! Perchance the maiden smiled to see Yon parting lingerer wave adieu. And stop and turrx to wave anew ; And, lovely ladies, ere your ire Condemn the heroine of my lyre, Show me the fair would scorn to spy And prize such conquer of her eye ! VI. ^^ While yet he loiter 'd on ti-e spot, it seem'd as Ellen mark'd hi» not. y>^ Of TH3R -^ Aww TW«t5 mi %tm KJK. THE LADY OF THE LAKE. But when he turn'd him to the glaae. One courteous parting sign she maoe ; And after, oft the Knight would say, That not when prize of festal day Was dealt him by the brightest fair, Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, So highly did his bosom swell, As at that simple, mute farewell. Now with a trusty mountain guide, And his dark stag-hounds by his side, He parts — the maid, unconscious still, Watch'd him wind slowly round the hill ; But when his stately form was hid, The guardian in her bosom chid — << Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid !'* 'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said, (i Not so had Malcolm idly hung On the smooth phrase of southern tongue ^ Not so had Malcolm strain 'd his eye. Another step than thine to spy. — Wake, Allan-bane," aloud she cried, To the old Minstrel by her side, << 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 Gramme." THE (SLAND. 51 Scarce from her lip the word had rush'd, When deep the conscious maiden blush'd; For of his chn, *n hall and bower, Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower. VII. The Minstrel waked his harp — three times Arose the well-known martial chimes, And thrice their high heroic pride In melancholy murmurs died. — << Vainly thi»u bid'st, noble maid," Clasping his wither'd hands, he said, << Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain, Though all unwont to bid in vain. Alas ! than mine a mightier hand Has tuned my harp, my strings has spannM! I touch the chords of joy, but low And mournful answer notes of wo ; And the proud march which victors tread Sinks in the wailing for the dead. — well for me, if mine alone That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! If, as my tuneful fathers said, This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayM, Can thus its master's fate foretell, Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ' yz THE LADY OF THE LAKE VIII. •< But ah ! dear lady, thus it sigh'd The eve thy sainted mother died ; And such the sounds which, while 1 strove To wake a lay of war or love, Came marring all the festal mirth, Appalling me who gave them birth, \nd, disobedient to my call, WaiPd loud through BotlnvelPs banner'd hall, Ere Douglasses, to ruin driven. Were exiled from their native heaven. — Oh! if yet worse mishap and wo My master's house must undergo, Or aught but w^eal to Ellen fair, Brood in these accents of despair, No future bard, sad Harp ! shall fling Triumph or rapture from thy string ; One short, one final strain shall flow. Fraught with unutterable w^o. Then shiver 'd shall thy fragments lie^ Thy master cast him down and die." — IX. Soothing she answer'd him, " Assuage Mine honour'd friend, the fears of age ; All melodies to thee are known, That harp has rung, or pipe has blown, THE ISLAND. 58 In Lowland vale or Highland glen, From Tjw^d to Spey — what marvel, then, At limes, unbidden notes should rise. Confusedly bound in memory's ties, Entangling, as they rush along. The war-march with the funeral sonp^ ? — Small ground is now for boding feai , Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. My sire, in native virtue great. Resigning lordship, lands, and state, Not then to fortune more resigned. Than yonder oak might give the wind ; The graceful foliage storms may reave. The noble stem they cannot grieve. For me," — she stoop'd, and, looking rounc Pluck'd a blue hare-bell from the ground, « For me, whose memory scarce conveys An image of more splendid days. This little flower that loves the lea^ May well my simple emblem be ; It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose Tha: in the King's own garden grows; And wher. I place it in my hair, All in, a bard is bound to swear He ne'er saw coronet so fair." — Then playfully the chaplet wild She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled. 54 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. X. Her smile, ner speech, with winning sway, Wiled the old harper's mood away. With such a look as hermits throw When angels stoop to soothe their wo, He gazed till fond regret and pride ThrilPd to a tear, then thus replied : << Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st The rank, the honours thou hast lost ' might I Hve to see thee grace, In Scotland's court, thy birthright place, To see my favourite's step advance. The lightest in the courtly dance, The cause of every gallant's sigh, And leading star of every eye, And theme of every minstrel's art, The Lady of the Bleeding Heart'"* XI, « Fair dreams are these," the maiden cried, (Light was her accent, yet she sigh'd,) <« Yet is this mossy rock to me Worth splendid chair and canopy ; Nor would my footstep spring more gay In courtly dance than blithe stratiispey, • The well-known cognisance of the Douglas family. THE ISLAiND. 55 Nor half so pleased mine ear incline To royal minstrel's lay as thine ; And then for suitors proud and high, To oend oefore my conquering eye, Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt say, That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's priae, The terror of Loch-Lomond's side, Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay A Lennox foray — for a day." XII. The ancient bard his glee repress'd: « 111 hast thou chosen theme tor jesr For who, through all this western wild, Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled * In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; I saw, when back the dirk he drew,- Courtiers give place before the stride - Of the undaunted homicide ; And since, though outlaw'd, hath his hand Full sternly kept his mountain land. Who else dared give, — ah ! wo the day. That 1 such hated truth should say, — The Douglas, like a stricken deer, Disown 'd by every noble peer, Even the rude refug-e we have here m THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Alas, this wild marauding ehief Alone might hazard our relief, And now thy maiden charms expand. Looks for his guerdon in thy hand ; Full soon may dispensation sought, To back his suit, from Rome be brou^L Then though an exile on the hill, Thy father, as the Douglas, still Be held in reverence and fear ; And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear. That thou might'st guide with silken thread. Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread ; Yet, loved maid, thy mirth refrain I Thy hand is on a lion's mane." XIII. *6 Minstrel,'' the maid replied, and higli Her father's soul glanced from her eye, i< My debts to Roderick's house I know : All that a mother could bestow, To Lady Margaret's care I owe, Since first an orphan in the wild She sorrow'd o'er her sister's child : To her brave chieftain son, from ire Of Scotland's King who shrouds my su^^ A deeper, holier debt is owed ; And, could I pay it with my bloody THE ISLAND. 67 Allan ! Sir Roderick should command My blood, my life, — but not my hand. Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; Rather 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, Than wed the man she cannot love. XIV. « Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses gray That pleading look, what can it say But what I own ? — I grant him brave. But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave; And generous — save vindictive mood, Or jealous transport, chafe his blood ; I grant him true to friendly band, As his claymore is to his hand ; But ! that very blade of steel More mercy for a foe would feel; I grant him liberal, to fling Among his clan the wealth they bnng, When back by lake and glen they wind, And in the Lowland leave behind. 58 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Where once some pleasant hamlet stoodj A mass of ashes slaked with blnod. The hand that for my father fought, I honour, as his daughter ought ? But can I clasp it reeking red, From peasants slaughter'd in their shed ? No ! wildly while his virtues gleam, They make his passions darker seem, And flash along his spirit high, Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. While yet a child, — and children know, Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — I shudder'd at his brow of gloom. His shadowy plaid, and sable plume ; A maiden grown, I ill could bear His haughty mien and lordly air ; But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim. In serious mood, to Roderick's name, I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er A Douglas knew the word, with fear. To change such odious theme were best — WTiat think'st thou of our stranger guest ^*' XV. « WTiat think I of him ? — wo the while Tha^ brought such wanderer to our isle ' THE ISLAND. 59 Thy father's battle-brand, of yore For Tineman forged by fairy lore, What time he leagued, no longer foes. His border spears with Hotspur's bovs, Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow The footstep of a secret foe. If courtly spy had harbour'd here, What may we for the Douglas fear.'* What for this island, deem'd of old Clan- Alpine's last and surest hold ! If neither spy nor foe, I pray WTiat yet may jealous Roderick say f — Nay, wave not thy disdainful head ! Bethink thee of the discord dread. That kindled when at Beltane game rhou led'st the dance with Malcolm Grseme*. Still, though thy sire the p^ace rc.iew'd, Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud ; ' Beware ! — But hark, what sounds are these? My dull ears catch no faltering breeze, No weeping birch, nor aspens wake, Nor breath is dimplbig in the lake, Still is the canna's* hoary beard, Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — And hark again ! — some pipe of war Sends the bold pibroch from afar." • Cotton-^rass. 60 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. XVI. Far up the lengthen'd lake were spied Four darkening specks upon the tide> That, slow, enlarging on the view, Four mann'd and masted barges grew, And bearing downwards from Glengyle% Steer'd full upon the lonely isle ; The point of Brianchoil tliey pass'd, And, to the windward as they cast, Against the sun they gave to shine The bold Sir Roderick's banner'd Pine. Nearer and nearer as they bear. Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. Now might you see the tartans brave, And plaids and plumage dance and wave , Now see the bonnets sink and rise. As his tough oar the rower plies ; See flashing at each sturdy stroke, The wave ascending into smoke ; See the proud pipers on the bow, And mark the gaudy streamers flow From their loud chanters* down, and sweep The furrow'd bosom of the deep. As rushing through the lake amain. They plied the ancient Highland stram. * The drone of the bag-pipe. THE ISLAND. XVII. Ever, as on they bore, more loud And buder rung the pibrach proud. At first the sound, by distance tame, Mellow'd along the waters came. And lingering long by cape and bay, Wail'd every harsher note away ; Then bursting bolder on the ear, The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear j Those thrilling sounds, that call the might Of old Clan- Alpine to the fight. Thick beat the rapid notes, as when The mustering hundreds shake the glen. And hurrying at the signal dread, The batter'd earth returns their treaa. Then prelude light, of livelier tone, Expressed their merry marching on, 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, Condensed, the battle yelPd amain ; The rapid charge, the rallying shout, Retreat borne headlong into rout. And bursts of triumph, to declare (ylan- A] pine's conquest — all were there. 62 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow, Sunk in a moan prolong'd and low, And changed the conquering clarion sv/ell. For wild lament o'er those that fell. XVIII The war-pipes ceased ; but lake and iiU Were busy with their echoes still ; And, when they slept, a vocal strain Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, While loud a hundred clansmen raise Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. Each boatmen, bending to his oar, With measured sweep the burden bore, In such wild cadence as the breeze Makes through December's leafless treea. The chorus first could Allan know, tt Roderich Vich Alpine, ho ! iro !'* And near, and nearer as they row'd, Distinct the martial ditty flow'd. XIX. / BOAT SONG. VL^'*^ Hail to the Chief who in triumph aav^nces! V^ Honour'd and bless'd be the ever-green Pine ' Long may the Tree in his banner that glances, Flourish, the sheHer and grace of our line ! THE ISLAND. 68 Heaven vsend it happy dew, Earth lend it sap enew, ^^j Gaily to boyrgeon, and broadly to grew , While every Highland glen Sends our shout back again, ♦ ♦ Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! 'eioe!'* Ours IS no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade : When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mounV n The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. Moor'd in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest's shock, firmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; Menteith and Breadalbane, then. Echo his praise again, « Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! ieroe !'* XX. Pvoudly c ur pibroch has trilPd in Glen Fruin, x\nd Banochar's groans to our Slogan replied ; Gler Liss and Ross-Dhu, they are smoking in ruin, And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side Widow and Saxon maid Long shall lament our raid. 64 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Think of Clan- Alpine with fear and with wo; Lennox and Leven-glen Shake when they hear again, « Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! ieroe !" Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands ! Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine ! ! that the rose-bud that graces yon islands Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine. that some seedling gem, Worthy such noble stem, Honour'd and bless'd in their shadow, might gro"W ! Loud should Clan-Alpine then Ring from her deepmost glen, « Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! ieroe !" XXI, With all her joyful female band, Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, And high their snowy arms they threw, As echoing back with shrill acclaim. And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name; While, prompt to please, with mother's art* The darling passion of his heart, The dame call'd Ellen to the strand To greet her kinsman ere he land : THE ISLAND. 65 Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, And shun to wreathe a victor's brow l*^* Reluctantly and slow, the maid Th' unwelcome summoning obey'd. And, when a distant bugle rung, In the mid-path aside she sprung : <« List, Allan-bane ! From main-land cast^ I hear my father's signal blast. Be ours," she cried, < Back minion ! hold'st thou thus at naught The lesson I so lately taught ? This roof, the Douglas, and that maid, Thank thou for punishment delay 'd." Eager as greyhound on his game, Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. <' Perish my name, if aught afford Its chieftain safety save his sword !" Thus as they strove, their desperate hand Griped to the dagger or the brand, And death had been — but Douglas rose. And thrust between the struggling foes His giant strength: — '< Chieftains, forego' I hold the first who strikes, my foe. Madmen, forbear your frantic jar ! What ! is the Douglas fallen so far. His daughter's hand is deem'd the spoil Of such dishonourable broil!" Sullen and slowly, they unclasp, As struck with shamo, i-h^ir desperate grasp. THE ISLAND 79 And each upon his rival glared, With foot advanced, and blade half bared. XXXV. Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung, And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, As falter 'd through terrific dream. Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, And veil'd his wrath in scornful word. « Rest safe till morning ; pity 'twere Such cheek should feel the midnight air ! Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell, Roderick will keep the lake and fell. Nor lackey, with his free-born clan. The pageant pomp of earthly man. More would he of Clan- Alpine know, Thou canst our strength and passes show — Malise, what ho !" — his henchman came, "Give our safe conduct to the Grceme." Young Malcolm answer'd, calm and bold, « Fear nothing for thy favourite hold ; The spot, an angel deigJi'd to grace, Is bless'd, though robbers haunt the place Thy churlish courtesy for those Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 80 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. As safe to me the mountain way At midnight as in blaze of day, Though with his boldest at his back, Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. — Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay, Nought here of parting will I say. Earth does not hold a lonesome glen So secret but we meet again. — Chieftain ! we too shall find an hour.**- He said, and left the sylvan bower. XXXVI. Old Allan follow'd to the strand, (Such was the Douglas's command,) And anxious told, how, on the morn, The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, The Fiery Cross should circle o'er Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor. Much were the peril to the Grseme, From those who to the signal came ; Far up the lake 'twere safest land. Himself would row him to the strand. He gave his counsel to the wind. While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind. Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roJI'd, His ample plaid in tighten'd fold THE ISLAND. SI And stripp'd his limbs to sucn array, As best might suit the watery way. xxxvn. Then spoke abrupt : <« Farewell to thee, Pattern of old fidelity!" The minstrel's hand he kindly press'd,— ' « ! could I point a place of rest ! My sovereign holds in ward roy land, My uncle leads my vassal oand; To tame his foes, his friends lo aid, Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme, Who loves the Chieftain of his name, Not long should honour'd Douglas dweU, Like hunted stag in mountain cell ; Not ere yon pride-swollen robber dare, I may not give the rest to air ! Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him nought. Not the poor service of a boat, To v;aft me to yon mountain side." — Then plunged he in the flashing tide. Bold o'er the flood his head he bore. And stoutly steer'd him from the shore; And Allan strain'd his anxious eye, Far mid the lake his form to spy. 815 T«e LADY OF THE LAK& Daitemng aeross each puBy wave, To which the moon her silver gave^ Fast as the cormorant eciild skim, The swimmer plied each active lim^^ , Then landing in the moonlight dell. Loud shouted of his weal lo tell. The Minstrel heard the far I\al?co, And joyfol from the shore withL^rev CiNTO THIRD. 2rj()e CKattertitfl. T^ME rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore Who danced our infancy upon their kme, And told our marvelling boyhood legends store. Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or sea. How are they blotted from the things that be 1 How few, all weak and withered of their force, Wait^ on the verge of dark eternity, Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, To sweep them from our sight ! Time rolls his ceaseless course Yet live there still who can remember well, How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell, And solitary heath, the signal knew ; And fast the faithful clan around him drew, What time the warning noto was keenly wound, What time aloft their kindred banner flew, While clamorous war-pipes yell'd the gathering sound, \nd while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round. 84 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. II. The summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Loch-Katrine blue ; Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kissM the lake, just stirr'd the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coj Trembled but dimpled not for joy ; The mountain shadows on her breast Were neither broken nor at rest ; In bright uncertainty they lie, Like future joys to Fancy's eye. The water-lily to the light Her chalice rear'd of silver bright ; The doe awoke, and to the lawn, Begem m'd with dew-drops, led her fa\%fi;, The gray mist left the mountain side, The torrent show'd its glistening pride • Invisible in flecked sky. The lark sent down her revelry ; The black-bird and tfie speckled thrush Good-morrow gave from brake and bush; In answer coo'd the cushat dove, Her notes of peace, and rest, and love III. No thought of peace, no thouijht of rest. Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. THE GATHERING. g5 With sheathed broadsword in his hand, Abrupt he paced the islet strand, And eyed the rising sun, and laid His hand on his impatient blade. Beneath a rock, his vassals' care Was prompt the ritual to prepare, With deep and deathful meaning fraught ; For such Antiquity had taught Was preface meet, ere yet abroad The Cross of Fire should take its road, The shrinking band stood oft aghast At the impatient glance he cast : — Such glance the mountain eagle threw As, from the cliffs of^^n-venue, She spread her dark sails on the wind. And, high in middle heaven reclined. With her broad shadow on the lake, Silenced the warblers of the brake. IV. A heap of wither'd boughs was pilea^ Of juniper and ro.^:an wild. Mingled with shivers from the oak, Rent by the lightning's recent stroke, Bryant, the Hermit, by it stood. Barefooted, in his frock and hood* 86 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. His grizzled beard and matted hair Obscured a visage of despair ; His naked a.'ms and legs seamd o'er, The scars of frantic penance bore. That Monk, of savage form and face, The impending danger of his race, Had drawn from deepes* solitude, Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. Not his the mien of Christian priest, But Djuid's, from the grave released, Whose harden'd heart and eye might brr*^k On human sacrifice to look ; And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore Mix'd in the charms he mutter'd o'er. The hallow'd creed gave only worse And deadlier emphasis of curse ; No peasant sought that hermit's prayer^ His cave the pilgrim shunn'd with care The eager huntsman knew his bound. And in mid-chase call'd off his hound: Or if, in lonely glen or strath, The desert dweller met his path, He pray'a, and s'gn'd the cross betweeiv. While terror took devotion's mien. THE GATHERING. « Of Brian's birth strange tales were cald^ His mother watch'd a midnight fold, Built deep within a dreary glen, Where scatter'd lay the bones of men, In, some forgotten battle slain, And bleach'd by drifting wind and rain. It might have tamed a warr^cy's heart, To view such mockery of his art i The knot-grass fetter'd there the hand. Which once could burst an iron band; Beneath the broad and ample bone, That buckler'd heart to fear unknown, A teeble and a timorous guest. The fieldfare framed her lowly nest , There the slow blind- worm left his slime On the fleet limbs that mock'd at time ; And tjiere, too, lay the leader's skull. Still wreathed with chaplet flush'd and fiil, For heath-bell, with her purple bloam. Supplied the bonnet and the plume. All night, in this sad glen, the maid Sate, shrouded in her mantle's shade . — She said, no shepherd sought her side, No hunte-*s hand her snood untied, Yet ne'er again to braid her hair The virgin snood did Alice wear : 88 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Gone was her maiden glee and sporty Her maiden girdle all too short, Nor sought she, from that fatal night. Or holy church or blessed rite, But lock'd her secret in her breast. And died in travail unconfess'd. TI. Alone, among his young compeers. Was Brian, from his infant years ; A moody and heart-broken boy, Estranged from sympathy and joy, Bearing each taunt which careless tongue On his mysterious lineage flung. Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, Ta wood and stream his bap to wail. Till, frantic, he as truth received What ctf his birth the crawd believed. And sought, in mist and meteor fire, To meet and know his Phantom Sire ? In vain, to soothe his wayward fate, The cloister oped her pitying gate ; In vain the learning of the age Unclasp'd the sable-letter'd page. Even in its treasures he could find Food for the fever of his roind^ THE GATHERING. 89 Eager he read whatever tells Of magic, cabala, and spells, And every dark pursuit allied To curious and presumptuous pride ; Till, with fired brain and nerves o'erstruiig, And heart with mystic horrors wrung, Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, And hid him from the haunts of men. VII. The desert gave him visions wild. Such as might suit the Spectre's child. MHiere with black cliffs the torrents toil, He watch'd the wheeling eddies boil. Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes Beheld the river demon rise ; The mountain mist took form and limb, Of noontide hag, or goblin grim ; The midnight wind came wild and dread, Swell'd with the voices of the dead ; Far on the future battle-heath His eye beheld the ranks of death : Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurl'd, Shaped forth a disimbodied world One lingering sympathy of mind Still bound him to the mortal kind; 90 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. The only parent he could claim Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. Late had he heard, in prophet's dream, The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream ; * Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast. Of charging steeds, careering fast ^ Along Benharrow's shingly side, , Where mortal horsemen ne'er might ride ; The thunderbolt had split the pine, — All augur'd ill to Alpine's line. He girt his loins, and came to show The signals of impending wo,. And now stood prompt to bless or ban, As bade the chieftain of his clan. VITI. 'Twas all prepared ; — and from the rocic, A goat, the patriarch of the flock. Before the kindling pile was laid. And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. Patient the sickening victim eyed The life-blood ebb in crimson tide Down his clogg'd beard and shaggy limb, Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. The grisl} priest, with murmuring prayer, A slender :rosslet form'd with care. THE GATHERING. 01 A cubit's length in measure due , The shaft and limbs were rods cf yew, Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave Their shadows o'er Clan- Alpine's grave, And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. The Cross, thus form'd, he held on high, With wasted hand and haggard eye. And strange and mingled feelings woke, While his anathema he spoke. IX. « Wo to the clansmen who shall view This symbol of sepulchral yew, Forgetful that its branches grew Where weep the heavens their holiest dew On Alpine's dwelling low ! Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, He ne'er shall mingle with their dust. But, from his sires and kindred thrust. Each clansman's execration just Shall doom him wrath and wo." He paused ; — the word the vassals took, With forward step and fiery look, On high their naked brands they shook, Their clattering targets wildly strook ; And first, in murmur low , 92 THE LADY OP THE LAKE. Then, like the billow in his course, That far to seaward finds his source, And flings to shore his muster'd force, Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse, « Wo to the traitor, wo !" Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew, The joyous wolf from covert drew. The exulting eagle scream'd afar, — Thev knew the voice of Alpine's war. X. The shout was hush'd on lake and fell, The Monk resumed his mutter 'd spell. Dismal and low its accents came, The while he scathed the Cross with flame | And the few words that reach'd the air. Although the holiest name was there, Had more of blasphemy than prayer. But when he shook above the crowd Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : " Wo to the wretch, who fails to rear At this dread sign the ready spear ! For, as the flames this symbol sear, His home, the refuge of his fear, A kindred fate shall know • Far o'er its roof the volumed flame Clan- Alpine's vengeance shall procUim, THE GATHERING. 03 While maids and matrons on his name Shall call down wretchedness and shame, And infamy and wo." Then rose the cry of females, shrill As goss-hawk's whistle on the hill, Denouncing misery and ill, Mingled with childhood's babbling trill Of curses stammer'd slow ; Answering with imprecation dread, « Sunk be his home in embers red ! And cursed be the meanest shed That e'er shall hide the houseless head We doom to want and wo !" A sharp and shrieking echo gave, Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave ! And the gray pass where birches wa^e^ On Beala-nam-bo. XI. Then deeper paused the priest anew, And hard his labouring breath he drew, While, with set teeth and clenched har U And eyes that glow'd like fiery brand. He meditated curse more dread, And deadlier, on the clansman's head. Who, summon'd to his Chieftain's aid, The signal saw and disobey'd. 94 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. The crosslet's point of sparkling wood, He quenched among the bubbling blood, And, as again the sign he rear'd, Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard : << When flits this Cross from man to man, Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan, Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! Palsied the foot that shuns to speed ! May ravens tear the careless eyes, Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, iSo may his heart 's-blood drench his hearth ' As dies in hissing gore the spark, Quench thou his light, Destruction dark ! And be the grace to him denied, Bought by this sign to all beside !" He ceased: no echo gave again The murmur of the deep Amen. XII. Then Roderick, with impatient look, From Brian's hand the symbol took : <« Speed, Malise, speed !" he said, and g*rc ITie crosslet to his henchman brave. « The muster-place be Lanric mead — Ipstant the time — speed, Malise, speed !'' THE GATHERING. 95 Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, A barge across Loch-Katrine flew ; High stood the henchman on the prow. So rapidly the bargemen row, The bubbles, w^here they launch'd the bo^t, Were all unbroken and afloat, Dancing in foam and ripple still. When it had near'd the mainland hill ; And from the silver beach's side Still was the prow three fathom wide, When lightly bounded to the land The messenger of blood and brand. ^,, TQM Speec?, Malise, speed ! the dun deer's hiA?"""^^ On fleeter foot was never tied. Speed, Malise, speed ! such cause of haste Thine active sinews never braced. Bend 'gainst the ste^py hill thy breast. Burst down like torrent from its crest ; W^ith short and springing footstep pass The trembling bog and false morass ; Across the brook like roebuck bound. And thread the brake like questing hound * The crag is high, the scaur is deep, yet shrink not from the desperate leap. 96 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 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 ! The wounded hind thou track'st not n3W, 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, Are in thy course — Speed, Malise, speed i XIV. Fast as the fatal symbol flies. In arms the huts and hamlets rise , From winding glen, from upland browiif They pour'd each hardy tenant down. Nor slack'd the messenger his pace : He show'd the sign, he named the placet And, pressmg forward like the wind, Left clamour and surprise behind. The fisherman forsook the strand. The swarthy smith took dirk and brand. With changed cheer, the mower blithe Left in the half-cut swath his sc)ihe. The herds without a keeper stray'd, The plough was in mid-furrow stayM» THE GATHERING, S7 The falc'ner toss'd his hawk away, The hunter left the stag at bay ; Prompt at the signal of alarms, Each son of Alpine rush'd to arms ; So swept the tumult and affray Along the margin of Achray. Alas, thou lovely lake, that e'er Thy banks should echo sounds of fear The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep So stilly on thy bosom deep, The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud, Seems for the scene too gaily loud. XT. Speed, Malise, speed ! the lake is past, Duncraggan's huts appear at last. And peep, like moss-grow^n rocks, half seen^ Half hidden in the copse so green ; There mayst thou rest, thy labour done, Their Lord shall speed the signal on. — As stoops the hawk upon his prey, The henchman shot him down the way. — What woful accents load the gale ! The funeral yell, the female wail ! A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, A valiant warrior fights no more; G 98 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Who, m the battle or the chase, At Roderick's side shall fill his place !— Within the hall, where torches' ray Supplies the excluded beams of day, Lies Duncan on his lowly bier. And o'er him streams his widow's tear. His stripling son stands mournful by, His youngest weeps, but knows not why ; The village maids and matrons round The dismal coronach* resound. XVI. CORONACH. He lis gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest The font, re- appearing, From the rain drops shall I crrow. But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow ! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, But the voice of the weeper Wails manhood in glory ; * Funeral song. See note. THE GATHER! N G. 99 The autumn winds rushing Waft the leaves that are searest. But our flower was in flushing When blighting was nearest. Fleet foot on the correi,^ Sage counsel in cumber. Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber ! Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and for ever ' XVII. See Stumah,f who, the bier beside, His master's corpse with wonder eyed,— Poor Stumah ! whom his least halloo Could send like lightning o'er the dew, Bristles his crest, and points his ears. As if some stranger step he hears. 'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread, Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, But headlong haste, or deadly fear, Urge the precipitate career. * Or corru The hollow side of the hill, where game usually lies. r F.'ir'kfu/. The name of a tlofj 10(1 THE LADY OF THE LAKK. All stand aghast: — unheeding all, The henchman bursts into the hall ; Before the dead man's bier he stood, Held forth the Cross, besmear' d with blood : " The muster-place is Lanric mead ; Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, speed '" XVIII. Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. In haste the stripling to his side His father's dirk and broadsword tied ; But when he saw his mother's eye Watch him in speechless agony, Back to her open'd arms he flew, Press'a on her lips a fond adieu — " Alas !" she sobb'd, — " and yet be gone, And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son !" One look he cast upon the bier, Dash'd froni his eye the gathering tear, Breathed deep, to clear his labouring breast. And toss'd aloft his bonnet crest. Then, like the high-bred colt when, freed, First he essays his fire and speed, He vanish'd, and o'er moor and moss Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. " Alas \" she sobbM, — " and yet begone. And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son !" Page 1<)0. THE GATHERIH G. 101 Suspenaed was the widow's tear, While yet his footsteps she could hear ; And when she mark'd the henchman's eye Wet with unwonted sympathy, " Kinsman," she said, " his race is run That should have sped thine errand on ; The oak has fallen, — the sapling bough Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. Yet trust I well, his duty done, The orphan's God will guard my son — And you, in many a danger true. At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, To arms, and guard that orphan's head! Let babes and women wail the dead." Then weapon-clang, and martial call. Resounded through the funeral hall, While from the walls the attendant band Snatch'd sword and targe with hurried hand , And short ana ditting energy Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye. As if the so^inds to warrior dear Might rouse her Duncan from his bien But faded soon that borrow'd force ; Grief claim 'd his right, and tears their course 102 THE LADY OF THE LAKE XIX. Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. O'er dale and hill the summons flew, Nor rest nor 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. Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge. But Angus paused not on the edge ; Though the dark waves danced dizzily, Though reel'd his sympathetic eye. He dash'd amid the torrent's roar ; His right hand high the cross! et bore. His left the pole-axe grasp'd, to guide And stay his footing in the tide. He stumbled twice — the foam splash'd high With hoarser swell the stream raced by ; And had he fallen, — for ever there. Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir ! Bat still, as if in parting life. Firmer he grasp'd the Cross of strife. Until the opposing bank he gain'd. And up the chapel pathway strain'd. THE GA'l HE RING 108 XX. A blithesome rout, that morning tide, Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride, Her troth Tombca's Mary gave To Norman, heir of Armandave, And, issuing from the Gothic arch, The bridal now resumed their march. In rude, but glad procession, came Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame ; And plaided youth, with jest and jeer, Which snooded maiden would not hear ; And children, that, unwitting why, Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ; And minstrels, that in measures vied Before the young and bonny bride, Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose The tear and blush of morning rose. With virgin step, and bashful hand. She held the kerchief's snowy band ; The gallant bridegroom, by her side, Beheld his prize with victor's pride. And the glad mother in her ear Was closely whispering word of cheer, XXI. Who meets them at the churchyard gate ? — The messenger of fear and fate ' 104 THE LADY OF THE hXKK Haste in his hurried accent lies, And grief is swimming in his eyes. All dripping from the recent flood, Panting and travel-soil'd he stood, The fatal sign of fire and sword Held forth, and spoke the appointed word ; «< The muster-place is Lanric mead. Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed P' And must he change so soon the hand, Just linked to his by holy oand. For the fell Cross of blood and brana ? And must the day, so blithe that rose, And promised rapture in the close. Before its setting hour, divide The bridegroom from the plightea bride ? O fatal doom ! it must ! it must ! Clan- Alpine's cause, her Chieftain^s trust, Her summons dread, brook no delay ; Stretch to the race — away ! away f XXII. Yet slow he laid his plaid aside. And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride, Lintil he saw the starting tear Speak wo he might not stop to cheer; Then, trusting not a second look, In haste he sped him up the brook THE GATHERING. 105 Nor backward glanced till on the heath Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. — What in the racer's bosom stirr'd ? The sickening pang of hope deferr'd, And memory, with a torturing train Of all his morning visions vain. Mingled with love's impatience, came The manly thirst for martial fame ; The stormy joy of mountaineers, Ere yet they rush upon the spears : And zeal for clan and chieftain burning. And hope, from well-fought field returning Wi^h wear's red honours on his crest, To clasp his Mary to his breast. Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae, Like fire from flint he glanced away, Whue high resolve, and feeling strong, Burst mto voluntary song. XXIII. SONG. The heath this night must be my bed, The bracken* curtain for my head. My lullaby, the warder's tread. Far, far from love and thee, Mary • * B ackeru Fern. 106 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, My couch may be my bloody plaid, My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid ! It will not waken me, Mary ! I may not, dare not, fancy now The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, I dare not think upon thy vow. And all it promised me, Mary. No fond regret must Norman know ; When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, His heart must be like bended bow, His foot like arrow free, Mary. 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 retuin'd from conquer'd foes. How blithely wall the evening close. How sweet the linnet sing repose, To my young bride and me, Mary : XXIV. Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, Balquidder, speeds the midnight ri aze, Rushing, in conflagration strong, Thy d ^ep ravines and dells along, THE GATHERING. K^ Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, And reddening the dark lakes below ; Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, 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'dj Balvaig, thy swampy course ; Thence southward turn'd its rapid road Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, Till rose in arms each man might claim A portion in Clan- Alpine's name ; From the gray sire, whose trembling hand Could hardly buckle on his brand, To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow Were yet scarce terror to the crow. Each valley, each sequester'd glen, Muster'd its little horde of men. That met as torrents from the height In Highland dale their streams unite. Still gathering, as they pour along, A voice more loud, a tide more strong, Till at the rendezvous they stood By hundreds, prompt for blows and blood ; Each train'd to arms since life began, Owning no tie but to his clan. 108 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. No oath, but by his Chieftain's hand, No law, but Roderick Dhu's commanri. XXV. That summer morn had Roderick Dhu SurveyM the skirts of Ben-venue, And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath To view the frontiers of Menteith. All backward came with news of truce ; Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce, In Rednock courts no horsemen wait, No banner waved on Cardross gate. On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, Nor scared the herons from Loch-Con ; All seem'd at peace. — Now, wot ye why The Chieftain, with such anxious eye, Ere to the muster he repair, This western frontier scann'd with care ?— In Ben- venue's most darksome cleft, A fair, though cruel, pledge was left; For Douglas, to his promise true. That morning from the isle withdrew. And in a deep sequestered dell Had sought a low and lonely cell. By many a bard, in Celtic tongue, Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung; THE GATHERING. 109 A softer name the Saxors gave, And call'd the grot the Goblin Cave. XXVI. It was a wild and strange retreat, As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. The dell, upon the mountain's crest, Yawn'd like a gash on warrior's breast 5 Its trench had stay'd full many a rock, Hurl'd by primeval earthquake shock From Ben-venue's gray summit wild, And here, in random ruin piled. They frown'd incumbent o'er the spot. And form'd the rugged sylvan grot. The oak and birch, with mingled shade. At noontide there a twilight made, Unless when short and sudden shone Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, With such a glimpse as prophet's eye Gains on thy depths, Futurity. No murmur waked the solemn still, Save tinkling of a fountain rill ; But when the wind chafed with the lake, A sullen sound would upward break, With dashing hollow voice, that spoke The incessant war of wave and rock. no THE LADY OF THE LAKK. Suspended cliffs with hideous sway, Seem'd nodding o'er the cavern gray. From such a den the wolf had sprung, In such the wild-cat leaves her young. Yet Douglas and his daughter fair Sought for a space their safety there. Gray Superstition's whisper dread Debarr'd the spot to vulgar tread ; For there,, she said, did fays resort, And satyrs* hold their sylvan court, By moonlight tread their mystic maze. And blast the rash beholder's gaze. XXVII. Now eve, with w^estern shadows long, Floated on Katrine bright arid strong, When Roderick, with a chosen few, Repass'd the heights of Ben-venue. Above the Goblin Cave they go. Through the wild pass of Be-v'-nam-Bo, The prompt retainers speed L fore, To launch the shallop from th-^. shore, For 'cross Loch-Katrine lies hi way To view the passes of Achray, And place his clansmen in array. ♦ The Urisk^ or Highland satyr. See nrto. THE GATHERING. m Yet lags the Chief in musing mind, Unwonted sight, his men behind. A single page, to bear his sword. Alone attended on his lord , The rest their way through thickets break, And soon await him by the lake. It was a fair and gallant sight, To view them from the neighbouring height By the low-levelPd sunbeams' light ; For strength and stature, from the clan, Each w^arrior was a chosen man, As even afar might well be seen, By their proud step and martial mien. Their feathers dance, their tartans float, Their targets gleam, as by the boat A wild and warlike group they stand. That well became such mountain-strand. XXVIII. Their Chief, with step reluctant, still Was lingering on the craggy hill, Hard by w^here turn'd apart the road To Douglas's obscure abode. It was but with that dawning morn That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn^ To drown his love in war's wild roar, Nor think of Ellen Douglas more: Ii^3 THE LADY OF THE LAKE But he who stems i stream with sand, And fetters flame with flaxen band, Has yet a harder task to prove — By firm resolve to conquer love ! Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost. Still hovering near his treasure lost ; For though his haughty heart deny A parting meeting to his eye, Still fondly strains his anxious ear, The accents of her voice to hear, And inly did he curse the breeze That waked to sound the rustling trees. But hark ! what mingles in the strain ? It is the harp of Allan-bane, That wake? ts measure slow and high, Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. What melting voice attends the strings ? 'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings. XXIX. HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. ^ve Mmia ! Maiden mild ! Listen to a maiden's prayer ! Thou canst hear though from the wild. Thou canst save amid despair. Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, Though banish'd, outcast, and reviled- THE GATHERING. US Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ; Mother, hear a suppliant child ' Ave Maria t Sve Maria ! Undefiled ! The flinty couch we now must «hare SSiall seem with down of eider piled, If thy protection hover there. The murky cavern's heavy air Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled ; Then, Maiden, hear a maiden's prayer, Mother, list a suppliant child ! Jive Maria. Ave Maria ! Stainless styled 1 Foul demons of the earth and air, From this their wonted haunt exiled, Shall flee before thy presence fair. We bow us to our lot of care, Beneath thy guidance reconciled ; Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer. And for a father hear a diild I Ave Maria! XXX. Died on the harp the closing hymn — Unmoved *n attitude md limb. 114 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. As list'ning still, Clan-Alpine's lord Stood leaning on his heavy sword, Until the page, with humble sign. Twice pointed to the sun's decline. Then while his plaid he round him cast^ « It is the last time — 'tis the last," He mutter'd thrice,— '^he last time e'er Th'^'t angel- voice shall Roderick hear !'* It was a goading thought — his stride Hied hastier down the mountain side ; Sullen he flung him in the boat. And instant 'cross the lake it shot They landed in that silvery bay, And eastward held their hasty w^ay Till, with the latest beams of light, The band arrived on Lanric height. Where muster'd in the vale below. Clan- Alpine's men in martial show. XXXI. A various scene the clansmen made, Some sate, some stood, some slowly stray'dj But most, with mantles folded round, Were couch'd to rest upon the ground, Scarce to be known, by curious eye, From the deep heather where they lie. THE GATHERING. 115 So well was match'd the tartan screen With heath-bell dark and brackens green ; Unless w^here, here and there, a blade, Or lance's point, a glimmer made. Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. But when, advancing through the gloom. They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume, Their shout of welcome, shrill and vide, Shook the steep mountain's steady side. Thrice it arose, and lake and fell Three times return'd the martial yell. It died upon Bochastle's plain, And Silence claim'd her evening reign, ' or THH > [tj'iivbrsit ^^m BUD OF CANTO THIRD. CANTO FOUllTH. "The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears} The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears. wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave. Emblem of hope and love through future years!" Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, What time the sun arose on* Vennachar's broad wave II. Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. All while he stripp'd the wild-rose spray, His axe and bow beside him lay, For, on a pass 'twixt lake and wood, A wakeful sentinel he stood. Hark ! on the rock a footstep rung, And instant to his arms he sprung. 116 T H E P R P H E C Y . 1 17 « Stand, or thou diest ! — What, Malise ? — soon Art thou return'd from Braes of Doune. By thy keen step and glance I know Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe." (For while the Fiery Cross hied on, On distant scout had Malise gone.) « Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchman said << Apart, in yonder misty glade ; To his lone couch I'll be your guide." Then calPd a slumberer by his side, And stirr'd him with his slacken'd bow — 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 off* the sports !" — for tumult rose, \.nd yeoman 'gan to bend their bows !— 182 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. "Break off the sports!" — he said, and irown'd, << And bid our horsemen clear the gi'ound." SXVII. Then uproar wild and misarray Marr'd the fair form of festal day. The horsemen prick'd among the crowa, RepelPd by threats and insult loud : To earth are borne the old and weak. The timorous fly, the women shriek; With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, The hardier urge tumultuous war. At once round Douglas darkly sweep The royal spears in circle deep, And slowly scale the pathway steep ; While on the rear in thunder pour The rabble with disordered roar. With grief the noble Douglas saw The Commons rise against the law. And to the leading soldier said, — « Sir John of Hyndford ! 'twas my blade That knighthood on thy shoulder laid ; For that good deed, permit me then A word wi';h these misguided men. THE COMBAT. f83 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 Scotland's laws. Are these so weak as must require The aid of your misguided ire ? Or, if I suffer causeless wrong, Is then my selfish rage so strong, My sense of public weal so low, Tliat, for mean vengeance on a foe. Those cords of love I should unbind, Which knit my country and my kind ? Oh no ! Believe, in yonder tower, It wall not soothe my captive hour, To know those spears our foes should dread, For me in kindred gore are red ; To know, in fruitless brawl begun, For me, that mother wails her son ; 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!' 184 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. XXIX. The crowd's wild fury sank again In tears, as tempests melt in rain With lifted hands and eyes, they prayM For blessings on his generous head, Who for his country felt alone. And prized her blood beyond his own. Old men, upon the verge of life, Bless'd him who stay'd the civil strife ; And mothers held their babes on high, The self-devoted Chief to spy. Triumphant over wrong and ire, To whom the prattlers owed a sire : Even the rough soldier's heart was moved ; As if behind some bier beloved, With trailing arms and drooping head. The Douglas up the hill he led, And at the Castle's battled verge, With sighs, resign'd his honour'd charge. XXX. The offended Monarch rode apart. With bitter thought and swelling heart. And would not now vouchsafe again Through Stirling streets to lead his tram. THE COMBAT 185 « Lennox, who would wish to rule This change! ng crowd, this common fool ? Hear'st thou," he said, " the loud acclaim, With which they shout the Douglas' name ^ With like acclaim, the vulgar throat Strain'd for King James their morning note ; With like acclaim they haiPd the day When first I broke the Douglas' sway ; And like acclaim would Douglas greet, If he could hurl me from my seat. Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ! Vain as the leaf upon the stream, And fickle as a changeful dream ; Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd bloocu Thou many-headed monster-thing, who would wish to be thy king ! . XXXI. «< But soft ! what messenger of speed Spurs hitherward his panting s''eed? I guess his cognisance afar — What from our cousin, John of Mar ?'^ '< He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound Within the safe and o^uarded o:roind: 180 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. For some foul purpose yet unknown, — Most sure for evil to the throne, — The outlaw'd Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, Has sumrnon'd his rebellious crew : 'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid These loose banditti stand array'd. The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune^ To break their muster march'd, and soon Your grace will hear of battle fought ; But earnestly the Earl besought, Till for such danger he provide, With scanty train you w^ill not ride." XXXII. « Thou warn'st me I have done amiss,- I should have earlier look'd to this : I lost it in this bustling day. — Retrace with speed thy former way ; Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, The best of mine shall be 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 by a knight, And Douglas hath himself and cause Submitted to our Kingdom's lav/s. 187 The tidings of their leaders losT Will soon dissolve the mountain host, Nor would we that the vulgai feel, For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. Bear Mar our message, Braco ; fly!" He turn'd his steed, — " My liege, I hie. Yet ere I cross this lily lawn, I fear Uie broadswords will be drawn.*' Th^ ^urf the flying courser spurn'd, And to his towers the King return'a XXXIII. Ill with King James's mood that day, Suited gay feast and minstrel lay;. Soon were dismiss'd the courtly thrcng, And soon cut short the festal song. Nor less upon the'sadden'd town The evening' *'uak in sorrow down. The burghers spoke of civil jar, Of rumour'd teuds and mountain war Of Moray, Mar. and Roderick Dhu, All up in arms : — the Douglas too, They mourn'd him pent within the hold, *' Where stout Earl William was of old"— * Stabbed by James II. in Stirling Castle. 188 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. And there his word the speaker stayed. And finger on his lip he laid, Or pointed to his dagger blade. But jaded horsemen from the west, At evening to the Castle press'd ; And busy talkers said they bore Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore. , At noon the deadly fray begun, And lasted till the set of sun. Thus giddy Kumour shook the town, Till closed the Night her pennons brown. mSD OF CANTO FIFTK> CANTO SIXTH. (EHbe (SvL^tXi^lSioottu I. The sun, awrkening, through the smoky air Of the dark city cast a sullen glance, Rousing^ each caitiff to his task of care, Of smful man the sad inheritance • Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, Scaring the prowling robber to his den ; Gilding on battled tower the warder'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 ! what scenes of wo, Are witness'd by that red and struggli-ng beam ! The fever'd patient, from his pallet low, 1'hrough crowded hospital beholds its stream ; The ruin'd maiden trembles at its gleam. The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream ; The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, Trims her si 3k infant's couch, and soothes his feeble wail 190 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. II. At dawn the rowers of Stirling rang With soldier-step and weapon-clang, While drums, with rolling note, foretell Relief to weary sentinel. Through narrow loop and casement barr'clv The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, And, struggling with the smoky air, Deadeh'd the torches' yellow glare. In comfortless alliance shone The lights through arch of blacken'd .«*tone. And show'd wild shapes in garb of war, Faces deform'd with beard and scar, All haggard from the midnight watch, And fever'd with the stern debauch ; For the oak table's massive board, Flooded with wine, with fragments stored. And beakers drain'd, and cups o'erthrown, Show'd in what sport the night had flown. Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; Some laDour'd still their thirst to quench: Some, chilPd with watching, spread their handi O'er the huge chimney's dying brr.nds, While round them, or beside them flung, At every step their harness rung. THE GUARD-ROOM. /91 III. These drew not for their fields the sword. Like tenants of a feudal lord, Nor own'd the patriarchal claim Of chieftain in their leader's name ; Adventurers they from far, who roved, To live by battle which they loved. There the Italian's clouded face. The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace ; The mountain-loving Switzer there More freely breathed in mountain air , The Fleming there despised the soil, That paid so ill the labourer's toil ; Their rolls show'd French and German name , And merry England's exiles came, To share, with ill-conceal'd disdain, Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. All brave m arms, well train'd to wield The heavy halberd, brand, and shield ; In camps licentious, wild, and bold ; In pillage fierce and uncontroll'd ; And now by holytide and feast, From rules of discipline released. 192 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. IV. They held debate of bloody fray. Fought 'twixt Loch-Katrine and Achriy. Fierce was their speech, and, 'mid their words, Their hands oft grappled to their swor.is ; Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear Of wounded comrades groaning near, Whose mangled limbs, and bodies gored, Bore token of the mountain sword. Though, neighbouring to the Court of Guard, Their prayers and feverish wails were heard : Sad burden to the ruffian joke, 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. 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, And shouted loud, «« Renew the bow? ! And, while a merry catch I troll, Let each the buxom chorus bear, Like brethren of the brand and spear.'' THE GUARD-ROOM, 193 SOLDIER'S SONG Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poulc Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl, That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack, And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor, Drink u£se^s* out, and a fig for the vicar! Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip ; Says, that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly, And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye, Yet whoop, Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker, Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar ' Our vicar thus preaches — and why should he not ? For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot ; And 'tis right of his office poor laymen to lurch, Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church Yet whoop, bully-boys ! off with your liquor, Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the vicar! * A Bacchanalian interjection, borrowed from the I>utch. N 194 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. VI. The warder's challenge, heard without Stay'd in mid-roar the merry shout, A soldier to the portal went, — << Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent ; And, beat for jubilee the drum ! A maid and minstrel with him come." Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred, Was entering now the Court of Guard A harper with him, and, in plaid All muffled close, a mountain maid, Who backward shrunk to 'scape the vii w Of the loose scene and boisterous crew . "What news ?" they roar'd. — <« I only know. From noon till eve we fought with foe, As wild and as untameable, As the rude mountains where they dwell. On both sides store of blood is lost, Nor much success can either boast." <Y OF THE LAKK. Then let me i^are bis captive lot ^ It is my right — deny it not !'^ w Little we reck,^' said John of Brent, «* We Southern men, of long descent : Nor wot we bow a name — a word — Makes clansmen vassals to a lord : Yet kind my noble landlard^s part,— God bless the bouse of Beaudesert ? And, but I loved to drive the deer. More than to guide the labouring steer, I bad not dwelt an autcast here. Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ; Thy Lord and Qiieftain sbalt tbau see.*^ XII. Then, from a rusted iron book, A bunch of ponderous keys he took. Lighted a torch, and Allan led Through grated arch and passage dread* Portals they passed, where, deep within, Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters^ din ; Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored. Lay wheel, and axe, and beadsman's sword, And many a hideous engine grim. For wrenching joint and crushing limb. By artists form'd, who deem'd it shame And sin to give their work a name. THE Gt ARD-ROOM. 201 They halted at a low-brow'd porch, And Brent to Allan gave the torch, While bolt and chain he backward rolPd, And made the bar unhasp its hold. They enter'd : 'twas a prison-room Of stern security and gloom, Yet not a dungeon ; for the day Through lofty gratings found its way, And rude and antique garniture Deck'd the sad walls and oaken floor { Such as the rugged days of old Deem'd fit for captive noble's hold. « Here," said De Brent, « thou mayst remain Till the Leech visit him again. Strict is his charge, the warders tell, To tend the noble prisoner well." Retiring then the bolt he drew, And the lock's murmurs growl'd anew. Roused at the sound, from lowly bed A captive feebly raised his head ; The wondering Mmstrel look'd, and knew, Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu ! For, come from where Clan- Alpine fought, They, erring, deem'd the Chief he sought. / 202 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. / XIII. As the -all &hip, whose lofty prore Shall never stem the billov«s more, Deserted oy her gallant band, Amid the breakers lies astrand, — So, on his couch, lay Roderick Dhu! And oft his fever'd limbs he *hrew [n toss abrupt, as when her sides Lie rocking in the advancing tides, That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, Yet cannot heave her from her seat ; — O, how unlike her course at sea, Or his free step on hill and lea ! — Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, — «< What of thy lady ? — of my clan ? — My mother ? — Douglas ? — tell me all ! Have they been ruin'd in my fall ? Ah, yes 1 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.) — « Who fought — who fled ? — Old man, be brief - Some might — for ihey had lost their Chief. Who basely live ? — who bravely died?'' — *<0, calm thee, Chief!" the Minstrel cried, " Ellen is safe !" — «< For that, thank Heaven!" «i And hopes are for 4ie Douglas given ; — THF GUARD-ROOM 203 The Lady Margaret too is well, And, for thy clan, — on field or fell, Has never harp of minstrel told Of combat fought so true and bold. Thy stately Pine is yet unbent, Though many a goodly bough is rent " XIV. The Chieftain rear'd his form on high. And fever's fire was in his eye ; But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks Chequer'd his swarthy brow and cheeks. - — << Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play, With measure bold, on festal day, In yon lone isle, . . . again where ne'er • Shall harper play, or warrior hear ! . . . That stirring air that peals on high, O'er Dermid's race our victory. Strike it ! — and then, (for well thou canst,j Free from thy minstrel-spirit glancea. Fling me the picture of the fight, When met my clan the Saxon might. I'll listen, till my fancy hears The clang of swords, the crash of spears ! These grates, these walls, shall vanish then, For the fair field of fighting men. 204 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. And my free spirit burst away, As if it soar'dfrom battle-fray.'* The trembling Bard with awe obey'd, S^ow on the harp his hand he laid ; But soon remembrance of the sight He witness'd from the mountain's height. With what old Bertram told at night, Awaken'd the full power of song, And bore him in career along ; As shallop launched on river's tide, That slow and fearful leaves the side, But when it feels the middle stream. Drives downward swift as lightning's beaiau XV. BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINR < The Minstrel came once more to view The eastern ridge of Ben- venue, 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, No ripple on4he lake, Upon her eyrie nods the erne. The deer has sought the brake ; THE GUARD-ROOM. 205 The small birds will not sing aloud, The springing trout lies still. So darkly glooms yon thunder- cloud, That swathes, as with a purple shroud, Benledi's distant hill. Is it the thunder's solemn sound That mutters deep and dread, Or echoes from the groaning ground The warrior's measured tread ? Is it the lightning's quivering glance That on the thicket streams, Or do they flash on spear and lance The sun's retiring beams? — I see the dagger-crest of Mar, I see the Moray's silver star, Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war, That up the lake comes winding far' To hero boune for battle-strife, Or bard of martial lay, ^Twere worth ten years of peaceful life, One glance at their array ! XVI. « Their light-arm'd archers far and near Survey'd the tangled ground. Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, A twilight forest frown'd ; 20G THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Their barbed horsemen, in the rear, The stern battalia crown'd. No cymbal clash'd, no clarion rang, Still were the pipe and drum ; Save heavy tread, and armour's clang, The sullen march was dumb. There breathed no wind their crests to shake, Or wave their flags abroad ; Scarce the frail aspen seem'd to quake, That shadow'd o'er their road. Their vanward scouts no tidings bring, Can rouse no lurking foe, Nor spy a trace of living thing. Save when they stirr'd the roe. The host^moves like a deep-sea wave, Where rise no rocks its pride to brave, High-swelling, dark, and slow. The lake is pass'd, and now they gain A narrow and a broken plain, Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws ; And here the horse and spearmen pause, While, to explore the dangero.> Gflen, Dive through the pass the archer-m». ^. XVII. J< At once there rose so wild a yell Within that dark and narrow delU THE GUARD ROOM. 207 As all the fiends, from heaven that fell. Had peal'd the banner-cry of hell ! Forth from the pass in tumult driven, Like chaff before the wind of heaven, The archery appear : For life ! for life ! their flight they ply-^ And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, And plaids and bonnets waving high. And broadswords flashing to the sky. Are maddening in the rear. Onward they drive, in dreadfui race, Pursuers and pursued ; Before that tide of flight and chase. How shall it keep its rooted place. The spearmen's twilight wood ? — (Down, down,' cried Mar, « your lances down! Bear back both friend and foe !' Like reeds before the tempest's frown. That serried grove of lances brown At once lay levell'd low ; And closely shouldering side to side. The bristling ranks the onset bide. — — < We'll quell the savage mountaineer. As their Tinchel* cows the game ' * A circle of sportsmen, who, by sui rounding'' a i^reat space, and gra- dually Darrowing, brought immense quantities of deer together, vphicl" usually made desperate efforts to bre-ik through the T'.nchtL 208 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. They come as fleet as forest deer, We'll drive them back as tame.' XVIII. « Bearing before them, in their course, The relics of the archer force, Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. Above the tide, each broadsword bright Was brandishing like beam of light. Each targe was dark below ; And with the ocean's mighty swing, When heaving to the tempest's wing, They hurl'd them on the foe. I heard the lance's shivering crash, As when the whirlwind rends the ash; I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, As if a hundred anvils rang ! But Moray wheel'i his rearward rank Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank, — — * My banner-man advance ! I see,' he cried, < their column shake.— Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake. Upon them with the lance !' — The horsemen dash'd among the rout, As deer break through the broom ; THE GUAR D- ROOM. 209 Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, They soon make lightsome room. Clan- Alpine's best are backward borne — Where, where was Roderick then * ;• One blast upon his bugle-horn Were worth a thousand men. And refluent through the pass of fewc The battle's tide was pour'd ; Vanish'd the Saxon's struggling speai, Vanish'd the mountain sword. As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and Receives her roaring linn, As the dark caverns of the deep Suck the wild whirlpool in. So did the deep and darksome pasa Devour the battle's mingled mass; None linger now upon the plain. Save those who ne'er shall fight again. XIX. << Now 'westward rolls the battle's din That deep and doubling pass withia. — Minstrel, away ! the work of fate Is bearing on : its issue wait, Where the rude Trosachs' dread defite Opens on Katrine's lake and isle, o 210 THE 1 ADY OF THE LAKE. Gray Ben- venue 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 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 surge, Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, Mine ear but heard the sullen sound, Which like an earthquake shook the ground, And spoke the stern and desperate s+rife That parts not but with parting life. Seeming, to minstrel-ear, to toll The dirge of many a passing soul. Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen The martial flood disgorged again, But not in mingled tide ; The plaided warriors of the North 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 snatter'd band, Eyeing their foemen, sternly stana | THE GUARD-ROOM. 211 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. XX. >< Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, The Saxons stood in sullen trance, Till Moray pointed with his lance, And cried — < Behold yon isle ! — See ! none are left to guard its strand. But women weak that wring the hand : 'Tis there of yore the robber band Their booty wont to pile ; — My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, And loose a shallop from the shore. Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then. Lords of his mate, and brood, and den.'-- Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung, On earth his casque and corslet rung. He plunged him in the wave : — All saw the deed — the purpose knew. And to their clamours Ben- venue A mingled echo gave ; The Saxons shout, thieir mate to cheer. 212 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. The helpless females scream for fear, And yells for rage the mountaineer. 'Twas then, as by the outcry riven, Pour'd down at once the lowering heaven ; A whirlwind swept Loch-Katrine's breast, Her billows reared their snowy crest. Well for the swimmer swell'd they high, To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; For round him shower'd, 'mid rain and hail, The vengeful arrows of the Gael. — In vain. — He nears the isle — and lo ! His hand is on a shallop's bow. — Just then a flash of lightning came. It tinged the waves and strand with flame ;— I mirk'd Duncraggan's widow'd dame, Behind an oak I saw her stand — A naked dirk gleam'd in her hand : — It darken'd, — but amid the moan Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — Another flash ! — the spearmen floats A weltering corse beside the boats. And the stern Matron o'er him stood. Her hand and dagger streaming blood. XXI. M < Revenge ! revenge !' the Saxons cried; The Gaels' exulting shout replied. THE GUARD-ROOM. 213 Despite the elemental rage, Again they hurried to engage , But, ere they closed in desperate fight, Bloody with spurring came a knight, Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag, Waved twixt the hosts a milkwhite flag. Clarion and trumpet by his side Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, While, in the Monarch's name, afar, A herald's voice forbade the war. For Bothwell's lord, and Roderick bold, Were both, he said, in captive hold." — But here the lay made sudden stand. The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand!— Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy How Roderick brook'd his minstrelsy s At first, the Chieftain, to the chime. With lifted hand, kept feeble time ; That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong Varied his look as changed the song ; 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 wrenched ; Set are his teeth ; his fading eye Is s'ernly fix'd on vacancy: — 214 THE LADY OF THF LAKE. Thus, motionless, and moaDless, drew His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu! — Old Allan-Bane look'd on aghast, While grim and still his spirit pass'd ; But when he saw that life was fled, He pour'd his Availing o'er the dead. XXII. LAMENT. « And art thou cold, and lowly laid, Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, Breadalbane's boast, Clan- Alpine's shade ! For thee shall none a requiem say ? — Foi thee, — who loved the minstrel's lay^ For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, The shelter of her exiled line, E'en in this prison-house of thine, I'll wail for Alpine's honour'd Pine ' M What groans shall yonder valleys fill ! What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill' What tears of burning rage shall thrill, Wher mourns thy tribe thy battles done, Thy fall before the race w^as won, Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! THE GUARD-ROOM. 215 There breathes not clansman of thy lihe, But would have given his life for thine— O wo for Alpine's honour'd Pine ! << Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — The captive thrush may brook the cage, The prison'd eagle dies for rage. Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! And, when its notes awake again, Even she, so long beloved in vain, Shall with my harp her voice combine, And mix her wo and tears with mine, To wail Clan- Alpine's honour'd Pine " XXIII. Ellen, the while, with bursting heart, Remain'd in lordly bower apart. Where play'd, with many-colour'd gleaiMi Through storied pane, the rising beams. In vain on gilded roof they fall, And lighten'd up a tapestried wall, And for her use a menial train A rich collation spread in vain. The banquet proud, the chamber gay. Scarce drew one curious glance astray i Or, if she look'd, 'twas but to say. With better omen dawn'd the day 210 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. In 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, While Liifra, crouching by her side, Her station claim'd with jealous pride, And Douglas, bent on woodland game^ Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, Whose answer, oft at random made. The wandering of his thoughts betrayM. Those who such simple joys have known. Are taught to prize them when they're gona But sudden, see, she lifts her head ! The window seeks wuth cautious tread WTiat distant music has the power To win her in this woful hour ! 'Twas from a turret that o'erhung Her. latticed bower, the strain was suwg XXIV. LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAJl I < My hawk is tired of perch and hood. My 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. THE GUARD-ROOM. «17 With bended bow and bloodhound free, For that's the life is meet for me. • I hate to learn the ebb of time, Ft Dm yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 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. < No more at dawnmg morn I rise. And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, Drive the fleet deer the forest through, And homeward wend with evening deu ; A blithesome welcome blithely meet, And lay my trophies at her feet. While fled the eve on wing of glee,— That life is lost to love and me '" XXV. The heart-sick lay w^as hardly said, The list'ner had not turn'd her head. It trickled still, the starting tear, When light a footstep struck her ear, And Snowdoun's graceful Kmght was neai 318 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, She turn'd the hastier, lest agawi The prisoner should renew his strain. *k welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said ; '' How may an almost orphan maid Pay the deep debt" " say not so ' To me no gratitude you owe. Not mine, alas! the bc^n to give, And bid thy noble father live ; I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. No tyrant he, though ire and pride May lead his better mood aside. Come, Ellen, come! — 'tis more than time, He holds his court at morning prime." With beating heart, and bosom rung, As to a brother's arm she clung. Gently he dried the falling tear. And gently whisper'd hope and cheer ; Her faltering steps half led, half stay'd, Through gallery fair and high arcade, Till, at his touch, its wings of pride A portal arch unfolded wide. XXVI. Within 'twas brilliant all and light, A throng ng scene of figures bright ; ft glow'd on Ellen's rlnzz'c'd sight. THE GUARD-ROOM. 219 As when the settiii g sun has given Ten thousand hues to summer even, And, from their tissue, fancy frames Aerial knights and fairy dames. Still by Fitz-James her footing stay'd ; A few faint steps she forward made, Then slow her drooping head she raised, And fearful round the presence gazed ; For him she sought, who own'd this ste ce, 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 w^as 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 K.ng * XXVII. As wreath of snow, on mountain breast, Slides from the rock that gave it rest. 220 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; No word her choking voice commands, — She show'd the ring — she clasp'd her hands. ! not a moment could he brook, The generous prince, that suppliant look Gently ne raised her, and the while, Check'd with a glance the circle's smile ; Graceful, but grave, her brow he-kiss'd, And bade her terrors be dismiss'd : — « Yes, Fair ; the wandering poor Fitz- James The fealty of Scotland claims. To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring; He will redeem his signet ring. Ask nought for Douglas ; — yestereven, His prince and he have much forgiven : Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 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 council aided, and our laws. 1 staunchM thy father's death-feud stern, With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairne ; And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own The friend and bulwark of our Throne. THE GUARD-ROOM. 221 But lovely infidel, how now ? What clouds thy misbelieving brow ? Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; Thou must confirm this doubting maid." XXVIII. Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, And on his neck his daughter hung. The Monarch drank, that happy hour, The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — When it can say, with godlike voice, Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! Yet would not James the general pye On nature's raptures long should pry ; He stepp'd between — «« Nay, Douglas, nay, Steal not my proselyte away ! The riddle 'tis my right to read, That brought this happy chance to speed. Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray In life's more low but happier way, 'Tis under 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 Thuc watch I o'er insulted laws, Thus learn to right the injured cause." 322 THE L..DY OF THE LAKE. Then, in a tone apart and low, — '< Ah, little irait'ress ! none must know What idle dream, what lighter thought, What vanity full dearly bought, Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew My spellbound steps to Ben-venue, In dangerous hour, and all but gave Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive !" Aloud he spoke — " Thou still dost hold That little talisman of gold, Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring— What seeks fair Ellen of the King !" XXIX. Full well the conscious maiden guess'd, He probed the weakness of her breast ; But, with that consciousness, there came A lightening of her fears for Graeme, And more she deem'd the Monarch's ire Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire, Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; And to her generous feeling true, She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. << Forbear thy suit ; — the King of kingb Alone can stay life's parting wings, I know his heart, I know his hand, Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand ;- THE GUARD-ROOM. 223 My fairest earldom would I give To bid Clan- Alpine's Chieftain live ! — Hast thou no other boon to crave ? No other captive friend to save?' Blushing, she turn'd her from the King, And to the Douglas gave the ring, A3 if she wish'd her sire to speak The suit that stain'd her glowing cheek. — « Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, And stubborn justice holds her course. Malcolm, come forth !" — And, at the word, Down kneel'd the Grseme to Scotland's Lord. « For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, From thee may Vengeance claim her dues. Who, nurtured underneath our smile. Hast paid our care by treahcerous wdle. And sought, amid thy faithful clan, A refuge for an outlaw'd man, Dishonouring thus thy loyal name. Fetters and warder for the Grseme !" — His chain of gold the King unstrung. The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung^ Then genlly drew the glittering band, And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 221 THE LADY OF THE LAKlfi Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark. On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending. Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending, And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy , Thy numbers sweet with Nature's vespers blending, With distant echo from the fold and lea. And herdboy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp ! Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway. And little reck I of the censure sharp May idly cavil at an idle lay. Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way. Through secret woes the world has never known, When on the weary night dawn'd wearier day, And bitterer was the grief devour'd alone. That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress ! is thine own. Hark ! as my lingering footsteps slow retire. Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! THE GUARD-ROOM 225 *Tis now a Seraph bold, with touch of lire, *Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. Receding now, the dying numbers ring Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell, ! And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — And now, 'tis silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well I P mtm or caki» mxts. NOTES TO CANTO FIEST. NOTE I. The heights of Uam-var. St. iv. p. 17. Ua-var, as the name is pronounced, or more properly Uaigh' ^unr, is a mountain to tne northeast of the village of Callendei n Menteith, deriving its name, which signifies the great den, oi cavern, from a sort of retreat among the rocks on the south side, said, by tradition, to have been the abode of a giant. In latter times it was the refuge of robbers and banditti, who hare been only extirpated within these forty or fifty years. Strictly speak- ing, this stronghold is not a cave, as the name would imply, but a sort of small enclosure, or recess, surrounded with largo rocks, and open above head. It may have been originally designed as a toil for deer, who might get in from the outside, but would find it difficuh to return. This opinion prevails among ^he old sportsmen and deer-stalkers in the neighbourhood. U 22d 830 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. NOTE II Thvo dogs of black St, Huherfs breed, St. vii. p. 19. «* The hounds which we call Saint Hubert's hounds are com monly all blacke, yet neuertheless, their race is so mingled at these days, that we find them of all colours. These are the hounds which the abbots of St. Hubert haue always kept 3ome of their race or kind, in honour or remembrance of the saint, which was a hunter with S. Eustace. Whereupon we may conceme that (by the grace of God) all good huntsmen shall follow them into paradise. To returne vnto my former purpose, this kind of dogges hath beene dispersed thorough the countnes of Henault, Lorayne, Flaunders, and Burgoyne. They are mighty of body, neuertheless their legges are low and short, likewise they are not swift^ although they be very good of scent, hunting chaces which are farre straggled, fearing neither water nor cold, and doe more couet the chaces that smell, as foxes, bore, and such like, than other, because they find themselues neither of swiftness nor courage to hunt and kill the chaces that are lighter and swifter. The bloodhounds of this colour prooue fTOod, especially those that are cole-blacke, but I made no great account to breede on them, or to keepe the kind, and yet I found a booke which a hunter did dedicate to a prince of Lorayne, \^hich seemed to loue hunting much, wherein was a blason which the same hunter gaue to his bloodhound, called Souyllard, which was wJiite : My name came first from holy Hubert's race, Souyllard my sire, a hound of singular grace. NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 231 Whereupon we may presume that some of the kind prooue white sometimes, but they are not of the kind of the Greffiers or Bouxes, which we haue at these dayes." — The noble art of Vencrie or Huntings translated and collected for the use of all Noblemen and Gentlemen. — Lend. 1611, 4to, p. 15. . NOTE III. For the death-wound and death-halloo^ Muster'' d his breath, his whinyard drew. St. viii. p. 19. When the stag turned to bay, the ancient hunter had the perilous task of going in upon, and kilHng or disabling the des- perate animal. At all times, the task was dangerous, and to be adventured upon wisely and warily, either by getting behind the stag while he was gazing on the hounds, or by watching an opportunity to gallop roundly in upon him, and kill him with the sword. See many directions to this purpose in the Booke of Hunting, chap. 41. Wilson, the historian, has recorded a provi- dential escape which befell him in this hazardous sport, while a youth and follower of the Earl of Essex. " Sir Peter Lee, of Lime, in Cheshire, invited my lord one summer to hunt the stagg. And having a great stagg in chase, and many gentlemen in the pursuit, the stagg took soyle. And divers, whereof I was one, alighted, and stood with swords drawne, to have a cut at him, at his coming out of the water. The staggs there being wonderfully fierce and dangerous, made us youths more eager to be at him. But he escaped us all. A nd it was my misfortune to be hindered of my coming nere him, ih^ 232 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. way being sliperie, by a falle ; which gave occasion to some, who did not know mee, to speak as if I had falne for feare. Which being told mee, I left the stagg, and followed the gentleman who [first] spake it. But I found him of that cold temper, thut it eeems his words made an escape from him ; as by his denial and repentance it appeared. But this made mee more violent in pur- suit of the stagg, to recover my reputation. And I happened to be the only horseman in, when the dogs sett him up at bay ; and approaching near him on horsebacke, he broke through the dogs, and run at mee, and tore my horse's side with his homes, close by my thigh. Then I quitted my horse, and grew more cunning (for the dogs had sette him up againe), stealing behind him with my sword, and cut his hamstrings ; and then got upon his U.ck, and cut his throate ; which, as I was doing, the company cimt in, and blamed my raihness for running such a hazaid." — Peck's Desiderata Curiosa, ii. 464. NOTE IV. No pathway meets the wanderer^ s ken, St. xiv. p. 24. Until the present road was made through this romantic pass, there was no mode of issuing out of the defile, called the Trof ichs. excepting by a sort of ladder, composed of the branches and root* of the trees. NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 238 NOTE V. To meet ivith Highland plunderers hei^ Were worse than loss of steed or deer. St. xvi. p. 27. The clans who inhabited the romantic regions in the neigh« bourhood of Loch-Katrine, were, even until a late period, much addicted to predatory excursions upon their Lowland neighbours. " In former times, those parts of this district which ar^ situated beyond the Grampian range, were rendered almost inac cessible, by strong barriers of rocks, and mountains, and lakes It was a border country, and though on the very verge of the lo\r , country, it was almost totally sequestered from the world, and, as It were, insulated with respect to society. " 'Tis well known, that, in the Highlands, it was, in formei times, accounted not only lawful, but honourable, among hostile tribes, to commit depredations on one another ; and these habits cf the age were perhaps strengthened in this district, by the cir cumstances which have been mentioned. It bordered on a country, the inhabitants of which, while they were richer, were less warlike than they, and widely differenced by language and manners." — Graham's Sketches of Scenery in Perthshire. Edin. 1806, p. 97. The reader will therefore be pleased to remember that i\ i «ceue of this poem is laid in a time. When tooming faulds, or sweeping of a glen. Had still been held the deed of gallant men. 234 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. NOTE VI. Ji gray-haired sire, whose eye intent Was on the vision^ d future bent. St. xxiii. p 35. If force of evidence could authorize us to believe facts mcon- fistent with the general laws of nature, enough might be produced in favour of the existence of the second-sight. It is called in Graelic Taishitaraugh, from Taish, an unreal or shadowy ap- pearance ; and those possessed of the faculty are called Taisha* trin, which may be aptly translated visionaries. Martin, a steady believer in the second-sight, gives the following account of it : " The second-sight is a singular faculty of seeing an otherwise invisible object, without any previous means used by the person that uses it for that end ; the vision makes such a lively impres- sion upon the seers, that they neither see, nor think of any thing else, except the vision, as long as it continues; and then they appear pensive or jovial, according to the object which was represented to them. "At the sight of a vision, the eyelids of the person are erected and the eyes continue staring until the object vanish. This is obvious to others who are by, when the persons happen to see a vision, and occurred more than once to my own observation, and to others that were with me, ♦* There is one in Skie, of whom his acquaintance observed, that when he sees a vision, the inner part of his eyehds turns so far upwards, that after the object disappears he must draw them down with his fingers, and sometimes employ others to draw ^hen^ down, which he finds to be the m ach easier way. NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 235 "This faculty of the second-sight does not lineally descend in a family, as some imagine, for I know several parents who arc endowed with it, but their children not, and vice versa ^ neither is it acquired by any previous compact. And, after a strict inquiry, I could never learn that this faculty was com municable any way whatsoever. " The seer knows neither the object, time, nor place of a vision, before it appears ; and the same object is often seen by different persons, living at a considerable distance from one another. The true way of judging as to the time and circum- stance of an object, is by observation ; for several persons of judgment, without this faculty, are more capable to judge of the design of a vision, than a novice that is a seer. If an object appear in the day or night, it will come to pass sooner or later accordingly. "If an object is seen early in the morning (which is not frequent), it will be accomplished in a few hours afterwards. If at noon, ' it will commonly be accomplished that very day. If in the evening, perhaps that night ; if after candles be lighted, it will be accomplished that night : the later always in accom- plishment, by weeks, months, and sometimes years, according to the time of night the vision is seen. " When a shroud is perceived about one, it is a sure prognos lie of death : the time is judged according to the height of it about the person ; for if it is seen above the middle, death is not to be expected for the space of a year, and perhaps some months longer; and as it is frequently seen to ascend higher towards the head, death is concluded to be at hand within a few days, 'f not hours, as dailjr experience confirms. Examples of thii tind were shown me, when the persons of whom the oDserva tions were then made enjoyed perfect health. 236 NOIES TO CANTO FIRST. *' One instance was lately foretold by a seer that was t novice, concerning the death of one of my acquaintance ; this was communicated to a few only, and with great confidence : I, being one of the number, did not in the least regard it, unti! the death of the person, about the time foretold, did confirm me of the certainty of the prediction. The novice mentioned above is now a skilful seer, as appears from many late instances : ho lives in the parish of St. Mary's, the most northern in Skie. " If a woman is seen standing at a man's left hand, it in a presage that she will be his wife, whether they be married to others, or unmarried, at the time of the apparition, "If two or three women are seen at once near a r.ian's left hand, she that is next him will undoubtedly be his wife first, and so on, whether all three, or the man, be single or married at the time of the vision or not: of which there are several late instances among those of my acquaintance. It is an ordinary thing for them to see a man that is to come to the house shortly after: and if he is not of the seer's acquaintance, yet he gives <>uch a hvely description of his stature, complexion, habit, &c., that upon his arrival he answers the character given him in all respects. " If the person so appearing be one of the seer's acquaintance, he will tell his name, as well as other particulars ; and he can teU by his countenance whether he comes in a good or bad humour. " I have been seen thus myself by seers of both sexes, at some hundred miles' distance ; some that saw me in this manner had never seen me personally, and it happened according to theii visions, without any previous design of mine to go to those places, my coming there being purely accidental. " It is ordinary with them to see houses, gardens, and trees in places void of all three; and this in progress of time uses to be \cc4»mpli^hed • as at Mogshot, in the Isle of Skie, where there NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 237 Were but a few sorry cow-houses, thatched with straw, yet in a very few years after, the vision, which appeared often, was acconi' plished, by the building of several good houses on ,he very spot represented by the seers, and by the plapting of orchards there. " To see a spark of fire fall upon one s arm or breast is a fore- runner of a dead child to be seen in the arms of those persons ; of which there are several fresh instances. " To see a seat empty at the time of one's sitting in it, is a pre sage of that person's death soon after. "When a novice, or one that has lately obtained the second- sight, sees a vision in the night-time without doors, and comea near a fire, he presently falls into a swoon. " Some find themselves as it were in a crowd of people, having a corpse which they carry along with them ; and after such visions the seers come in sweating, and describe the people that appeared : if there be any of their acquaintance among 'em, they give an account of their names, as also of the bearers, but they know nothing concerning the corpse. " All those who have the second-sight do not always see these visions at once, though they be together at the time. But if one v/ho has this faculty designedly touch his fellow-seer at the instant of a vision's appearing, then the second sees it as well as the first ; and this is sometimes discerned by those that are near them on such occasions." — Martin's Description of the Western Islands^ 1716, 8vo, p. 300, et seq. To these particulars innumerable examples i light be added, all attested by grave and credible authors. But, in despite of evidence, which neither Bacon, Boyle, nor Johnson, were able \o resist, ine Taisch, with all its visionary properties, seems to be now univer Bally abandoned to the use of poetry. The exquisitely beautifu poem of Lochiel will at once occur to the recollection of every readei 238 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. NOTE VII. Here, for retreat in dangerous houT, Some chief had framed a rustic boiver St. XXV. p. 34. The Celtic chieftains, whose lives were continually expo&ed to peril, had usually, in the most retired spot of their domains, some place of retreat for the hour of necessity, which, as circumstances would admit, was a tower, a cavern, or a rustic hut, in a strong and secluded situation. One of these last gave refuge to the un- fortunate Charles Edward, in his perilous wanderings after tho battle ofCulloden. "It was situated in the face of a very rough, high, and rocky mountain, called Letternilichk, still a part of Benalder, full of groa. stones and crevices, and some scattered wood interspersed. The habitation called the Cage, in the face of that mountain, was within a small thick bu:^h of wood. There were first some rows of trees laid down, in order to level a floor for a habitation ; and as the place was steep, this raised the lower side to an equal height with the other ; and these trees, in the way of joists or planks, were levelled with earth and gravel. There were betwixt the trees, gro"'ing naturally on their own roots, some stakes fixed in the earth, which, with the trees, were interwoven with ropes, made of heath and birch twigs, up to the top of the Cage, it being a round or rather oval shape ; and the whole thatched and covered over with fog. The whole fabric hung, as it were, by a large tree, which reclined from the one end, all along the roof, to the other, and which gave it the name of the Cage ; and by chance there happened to be two stones at a small distance from one another, m aie side next the precipice, resembling the pillars of a chimney NOTES TO CANTO IIRST. 239 where the fire was placed. The smoke had its vent out here, all along the fall of the rock, which was so much of the same colour, that one could discover no difference in the clearest day." — Home's History of the Rebellion, Lond. 1802, 4to, p. 381. NOTE VIII. My sirens tall form might grace the part Gf Ferragus, or Ascahart, St. xxviii. p. 37. These two sons of Anak flourished in romantic fable. The first is well known to the admirers of Ariosto, by the name of Ferrau. He was an antagonist of Orlando, and was at length slain by hina m single combat. There is a romance in the Auchinleck IMS., in which Ferragus is thus described ; " On a day come tiding Unto Charls the King, Al of a doughti knight Was comen to Navers, Stout he was and fers, Veruagu he hight. Of Babiloun the soudan Thider him sende gan, With King Charls to fight. So hard he was to-fond^ That no dint of brond No greued him, a plight * Fcund proved. 5M0 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST, " Fie hadde twenti men strengthe, And forti fet of lengthe, Thilke painim hede,* And four feet in the face, Y-meten' in the place, And fiften in brede.' His nose was a fot and more ; His brow, as brestles wore ;* He that it seighe it sede, He loked lotheliche And was swart^ as any piche Of him men might adrede." Romance of Charlemagne, i. 461-484. ^uchinleck MS,, fo\, 265. Ascapart, or Ascabart, makes a very material figure in the His tory of Be vis of Hampton, by whom he was conquered. — See Auchinleck MS,, fol. 189. His effigies may be seen guarding one side of a gate at Southampton, while the other is occupied by Sir Be vis himself. The dimensions of Ascapart were little inferioi to those of Ferragus, if the following description be correct " They metten with a geaunt. With a lotheliche semblaunt He was wonderliche strong, Rome° thretti fote long. His herd was hot gret and rowe '^ A space of a fot between is* browe ; "Had. *Were. 'Rougku < Measured. • Black. 'His. > Breadth « Fully, NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 241 His cloD was, to yeue* a strok, A lite bodi of an oak.'' Beues hadde of him wonder gret. And askede him what a het,^ And yaf * men of his contre Were ase mechc^ ase was he. Me name,' a sede,° * is Ascopard, Garci me sent hiderward. For to bring this quene ayen. And the Beues her of-slen.'' Icham Garci is^ champioun, And was i-driue out of me^ toun Al for that ich was so lite.^'* Eueri man me wolde smite, Ich was so lite and so merrugh," Eueri man me clepede dwerugh." And now icham in this londe, I wax mor^^ ich understonde, And strangere than other tene ;** And that schel on us be sene.' " ^r Bevis of Hampton^ i. 2512. Auchinlec-i MS.^ fol. 189. * Give. * He said. " Lean 2 The stem of a little )ak tree. ^ Slay. " Dwarf. * He hight, vas called. « His. ^^ Greater, taJer *If. 9 My. "Tea. »Gieat »o Little. 242 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. NOTE IX Though all unasked his birth and name, St. xxix. p. 3S. The Highlanders, who carried hospitality to a punctilious excess, are said to have considered it as churlish, to ask a stranger his name or lineage, before he had taken refreshment. Feuds were so frequent among them, that a contrary rule would, in many cases, have produced the discovery of some circumstance which might have excluded the guest from the benefit of the assistance he stood in need of. NOTE X. — — A harp unseen Fiird up the symphony between, St. XXX. p. 39. ''They (meaning the Highlanders) delight much in musicKt but chiefly in harps and clairschoes of their own fashion. Tt . strnigs of the clairschoes are made of biasse wire, and the strings ^f the harps of sinews ; which strings they strike either with their nayles, growing long, or else with an instrument appointed for that use. They take great pleasure to decke their harps and dairsihoes with silver and precious stones; the poore ones that cannot attayne hereunto, deck them ivith christall. They sing verses prettily compound, contayning (for the most part) praysea of valiant men. There is not almost any other argument, whereo* their rhymes intreat. They speak the ancient French language NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 243 altered a little."* — •* The harp and clairschoes are now only heard of in the Highlands in ancient song. At what period these instru- ments ceased to be used, is not on record ; and tradition is silent on this head. But, as Irish harpers occasionally visited the High- lands and Western Isles till lately, the harp might have been extant so late as the middle of the present century. Thus far we know, that from remote times down to the present, harpers were received as welcome guests, particularly in the Highlands of Scot- land ; and so late as the latter end of the sixteenth century, as appears by the above quotation, the harp was in common use among the natives of the Western Isles. How it happened that the noisy and inharmonious bagpipe banished the soft and exprea sive harp, we cannot say ; but certain it is, that the bagpipe is now the only instrument that obtains universally in the Highland districts." — Campbell's Journey through North Britain. Lend. 1803, 4to, i. 175. Mr. Gunn, of Edinburgh, has lately published a curioi 6 essay upon !he harp and harp music of the Highlands of Scotland. That the instrument w^as once in common use there, is most certain. Cleland numbers an acquaintance with it among the few acconi' pH<licj by the king's justicf " — Pitscot^'^e, p. 152. NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 263 NOTE XYT. Rest safe till morning — -pity Hioere Such cheeJc should feel the midnight air. St. XXXV. p. 79 Hardihood was in every respect so essential to the character of a Highlander, that the reproach of effeminacy was the most bittei which could be thrown upon him. Yet it was sometimes hazardeo on what we might presume to think slight grounds. It is reported of old Sir Ewen Cameron of Lochiel, when upwards of seventy, that he was surprised by night on a hunting or military expedition. He wrapped him in his plaid, and lay contentedly down upon the snow, with which the ground happened to be covered. Among his attendants, who were preparing to take their rest in the same manner, he observed that one of his grandsons, for his better accommodaiion, had rolled a large snow-ball, and placed it below his head. The wrath of the ancient chief was awakened by 21 symptom of what he conceived to be degenerate luxury. "Out upon thee," said he, kicking the frozen bolster from the head which it supported, "art thou so effeminate as to need a pillow ?" The officer of engineers, whose curious letters from the Highlands have been more than once quoted, tells a similar story of Mac- donald of Keppoch, and subjoins the following remarks : " This and many other stories are romantick ; but there is one thing, that at first thought might seem very romantick, of which 1 have been credibly assured, that when the Highlanders are con- s'.rained to lie among the hills, in cold dry windy weather, they sometimes soak the plaid in some river or burn, [i, c, brook ;) and .hen, holding up a corner of it a liti.e above their heads, they turn 264 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND themselveij round and round, till they are enveloped by the whole mantle. They then lie themselves down on the heath, upon the leeward side of some hill, where the wet and the warmth of their bodies make a steam, hke that of a boiling kettle. The wet, they say, keeps them warm by thickening the stuff, and keeping the wind from penetrating. " I must confess I should have been apt to question this fa i, had I not frequently seen them wet from morning to night ; and, even at the beginning of the rain, not so much as stir a few yards to shelter, bui continue in it without necessit)^ till they were, as We say, wet through and through. And that is soon effected by the looseness and spunginess of the plaiding; but the bonnet is frequently taken off, and wrung like a dishclout, and then pat l^n again. " They have been accustomed from their infancy to be often «ret, and to take the water like spaniels, and this is become a second nature, and can scarcely be called a hardship to them, inso- much that I used to say, they seemed to be of the duck-kind, and to love water as well. Though I never saw this preparation f(>r sleep in windy weather, yet, setting out early in a morning from one of the huts, I have seen the marks of their lodging, where the ground has been free from rime or snow, which remained all around the spot where they had lain." — Letters from Sco*2ancii Lend. 1754, 8vo, li. p. 108. NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 265 NOTE XVII His henchman came. St. XXXV. p. 79. " This officer is a sort of secretary, and is to be ready, upon all occasions, to venture his life in defence of his nnaster ; and at drinking-bouts he stands behind his seat, at his haunch, from whence his title is derived, and watches the conversation, to see if any one offends his patron. "An English officer being in company with a certain chieltatn, and several other Highland gentlemen, near Killichumen, had an argument v/ith the great man ; and both being well warmed with usky, at last the dispute grew very hot, " A youth, who was henchman, not understanding one word of English, imagined his chief was insulted, and thereupon drew his pistol from his side, and snapped it at the officer's head ; but the pistol missed fire, otherwise it is more than probable he might have suffered death from the hand of that little vermin. *' But it is very disagreeable to an Englishman over a bottle, with the Highlanders, to see every one of them have his gilly, that is, his servant, standing behind him all the while, let what w'll be the subject of conversatiw." — Letters from Scotlandx li. 159. . NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. NOTE I. The Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor^ round. St. i. p. 83. When a chieftain desired to summon his clan, upon any sudden or important emergency, he slew a goat, and making a cross of any h'ght wood, seared its extremities in the fire, and extinguished them in the blood of the animal. This was called the Fiery Cross^ also Crean Tarigh, or the Cross of Shame, because disobedience to what the symbol imphed inferred infamy. It was delivered to a swift and trusty messenger, who ran full speed with it to the next hamlet, where he presented it to the principal person, with a single word, implying the place of rendezvous. He who received the symbol was bound to send it forward, with equal despatch, to the next village ; and thus it passed, with incredible celerity, through all the district which owed allegiance to the chief, and also among his allies and neighbours, if the danger was common to them. At sight of the Fierj'' Cross, every man from sixteen years old to sixty, capable of bearing arms, was obliged instantly to repair, in his best arms and accoutrements, to the place of ren- dezvous. He who failed to appear suffered the extremities of fire wid sword, which were emblematically denounced to the disobe- 266 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 267 dient by the bloody and burnt marks upon this warlike signal During the civil war of 1745-6, the Fiery Cross often made itf circuit ; and upon one occasion it passed through the whok dis trict of Breadalbane, a tract of thirty-two miles, in three hours The late Alexander Stewart, Esq., of Invernahyle, described tc me his having sent round the Fiery Cross through the district of Appine, during the same commotion. The coast was threatened by a descent from two Eug^lish frigates, and the flower of the young men were with the army of Prince Charles Edward, then in England ; yet the summons was so effectual, that even old ag« and childhood obeyed it ; and a force was collected in a few hours, so numerous and so enthusiastic, that all attempt at the intended diversion upon the country of the absent warriors was in prudence abandoned as desperate. This practice, like some others, is common to the Highlander* vvith the ancient Scandinavians, as will appear by the following extract from Glaus Magnus : " When the enemy is upon the sea-coast, or within ihe Hmits of northern kingdomes, then presently, by the command of the pn^ vincial governours, with the counsel and consent of the old soldier.^ who are notably skilled in such like business, a staff of three hands' length, in the common sight of them all, is carried by the speedy running of some active young man unto that village or city, with this command, — that on the 3. 4. or 8. day, one, two, or three, oi else every man in particular, from 15 years old, shall come with Ixis arms, and expences for ten or twenty days, upon pain that hla or their houses shall be burnt (which is intimated by the burning : of the staff), or else the master to be hanged (which is signified by the cord t^ed to it), to appear speedily on such a bank, or field, or valley, to hear the cause he is called, and to receive orders from ^ ih'^ J aid provii ial governours what he shall do. Wherefore tha4 268 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD messenger, swifter than any post or waggon, having done his commission, comes slowly back again, bringing a token with him that he hath done all legally ; and every moment one or another runs to another village, and tells those places what they must do." . . . . " The messengers, therefore, of the footmen, that are to give w^arning to the people to meet for the battail, run fiercely and swaftly ; for no snow, nor rain, nor heat can stop them, nor night hold them ; but they will soon run the race they undert-ske. The first messenger tells it to the next village, and that to the next ; and so the hubbub runs all over till they all know it in that Btift or territory, where, when, and wherefore they must meet."-^ Olaus Magnus's History of the GothSy Enghshed by J. S., Lo«id, 1658, book iv. chap. 8, 4. NOTE 11. That Monk, of savage form and face, St. iv. p. 86. The state of religion in the middle ages afforded considerable facilities for those whose mode of life excluded them from regular worship, to secure, nevertheless, the ghostly assistance of confess- ors, perfectly willing to adapt the nature of their doctrine to the necessities and peculiar circumstances of their flock. Robin Hood, it is well known, had his celebrated domestic chaplain Friar Tuck. And that same curtal friar was probably matched in manners and appearance by the ghostly fathers of the Tynedale robbers, who are thus described in an excommunication fulminated against their patrons by Richard Fox, Bishop of Durham, tempore Henrici VIIL '* We have further understood, that there are many chaplains in the said territories of Tynedale and Redesdale, who are public NOTES TO CANTO THIRD 2G9 Biiid open maintainers of concubinage, irregular, suspended, excom- municated, and interdicted persons, and withal so utterly ignoram of letters, that it has been found by those who objected this to them, that there were some who, having celebrated mass for ten years, were still unable to read the sacramental service. We have also understood there are persons among them who, although not ordained, do take upon them the offices of priesthood ; and in contempt of God, celebrate the divine and sacred rites, and ad minister the sacraments, not only in sacred and dedicated places but in those w^hich are profane and interdicted, and most wretch edly ruinous ; they themselves being attired in ragged, torn, and most filthy vestments, altogether unfit to be used in divine or even in temporal offices. The which said chaplains do administer sacraments and sacramental rites to the aforesaid manifest and infamous thieves, robbers, depredators, receivers of stolen goods, and plunderers, and that without restitution, or intention to restore, as evinced by the fact ; and do also openly admit them to the rites of ecclesiastical sepulchre, without exacting security for restitution, although they are prohibited from doing so by the sacred canons as well as by the institutes of the saints and fathers. All which infers the heavy peril of their own souls, and is a pernicious example to the other believers in Christ, as well as no shght, but an aggra- vated injury to the numbers despoiled and plundered of theii goods, gear, herds, and chattels."^ To this hvely and picturesque description of the confessors and churchmen of predatory tribes, there may be added some curious 'The Moniticn against the Robbers of Tynedale and Redesdale with which I was favoured by my friend Mr. Surtees, of Mainsforth, may be found in the original Latin, in the Appendix to the Introduction to the Border Minstrelsy, No. vii fourth edition. 270 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. particulars respecting the priests attached to the several septs of native Irish, during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. These friara had indeed to plead, that the incursions, which they not only par- doned, but even encouraged, were made upon those hostile to them, as well in religion as from national antipathy. But by Pro- testant writers they are uniformly alleged to be the chief instru- ments of Irish insurrection, the very well-spring of all rebellion towards the English government. Lithgow, the Scottish traveller, declares the Irish wood-kerne, or predtitory tribes, to be but the hounds of their hunting priests, who directed their incursions by their pleasure, partly for sustenance, partly to gratify ani- mosity, partly to foment general division, and always for the better security and easier domination of the friars.^ Derrick, the liveliness ind minuteness of whose descriptions may frequently apologize for his doggerel verses, after describing an Irish feast, and the encouragement given, by the songs of the bards, to its termination in an incursion upon the parts of the country more immediately under the dominion of the English, records the no less powerful arguments used by the friar to exc'*e their ani* mosity : " And more t' augment the flame and rancour of their harte, The friar, of his counsells vile, to rebelles doth imparlc, Affirming that it is an almose deede to God, To make the English subjects taste the Irish rebells' rodde. ' Lithgow's Travels, first edit. p. 431 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 271 To spoile, to kill, to burne, this frier's counsel! is ; And for the doing of the same, he warrantes heavenlie blisse. He tells a holie tale ; the white he tournes .to blacke ; And through the pardons in his male, he workes a knavishe knacke." The wrrckful invasion of a part of the Engxish psle is thew aescribed with some spirit; the burning of houses, uriving cflf cattle, and all pertaining to such predatory inroads, is illustrated by a rude cut. The defeat of the Irish, by a party of English soldiers trom the next garrison, is then commemorated, and in like manner adorned with an engraving, in which the friar is exhibited mourning over the slain chieftain ; or, as the rubric expresses it, " The frier then, that treacherous knave, with ough ough-hone lament. To see his cousin Devill's-son to have so foul event." The matter is handled at great length in the text, of which th€ foil )wing verf»es are more than sufficient samp*e : " The frier seymg tnis, laments that lucklesse parte. And curseth to the pitte of hell the death man's sturdie harle,' Yet for to quight theln with the frier taketh paine. 272 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. For all the synnes that ere he did remission to obtaine. And therefore serves his booke, the candell and the bell ; But thinke you that such apishe toiei bring damned souls from hell 1 It 'longs not to my parte infernall things to knowe ; But I beleve till later daie, thei rise not from belovve. Yet hope that friers give to this rebellious rout, If that their soules should chaunce iu a©^ to bringe them quicklie out, Doeth make them lead suche lives, as neither God nor man, Without revenge for their desartes permitte or suffer can. Thus friers are the cause, the fountain, and the spring, Of hurleburles in this lande, of eche unhappie thing. Thei cause them to rebell against their soveraigne queene, And through rebellion often tynies, their lives doe vanish clearie. So as by friers meanes, m whom all follies swimme, The Irishe karne doe often lose the life, with hedde and limnaa,** NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 273 As the Ir sh tribes, and those of the Scottish Highlands, are much more intimately allied by language, manners, dress, and customs, than the antiquaries of either country have been wiUing to admit, I flatter myself I have here produced a strong warrant for the character sketched in the text.^ The following picture, though of a different kind, serves to establish the existence of ascetic reHgionists, to a comparatively late period, in the Highlands and Western Isles. There is a great deal of simplicity in the description, for which, as for much similar information, I am obliged to Dr. John Martin, who visited the Hebrides at the suggestion of Sir Robert Sibbald, a Scottish antiquary of eminence, and early in the eighteenth century pub lished a description of them, which procured him admission into the Royal Society. He died in London about 1719. Hi? work is a strange mixture of learning, observation, and gros» creduhty. " I remember," says this author, " I have seen an old lay capuchin here (in the island of Benbecula), called in their lan- guage Brahir-Bocht, that is. Poor Brother; which is literally true ; for he answers this character, having nothing but what is given him : he holds himself fully satisfied with food and raimeni, and lives in as great simplicity as any of his order ; his diet is very mean, and he drinks only fair water: his habit is no Itss inortifying than that of his brethren elsewhere ; he wears a short coat, which comes no farther than his middle, with narrow sleeves like a waistcoat : he wears a plaid beiore it, girt abou. ' This curious picture of Ireland was inserted by the author in the republication of Somers' Tracts, vol. i., in which the plates ha\« been also inserted, from the only impressions known to exist, belonging to th« co])y in the Advocates' Library. See Somers' Tracts, vol. i. pp. 591, 594 274 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. the middle, which reaches to his knee : the plaid is fastened on his breast with a wooden pin, his neck bare, and his feet often so too : he wears a hat for ornament, and the string about it is a bit of a fisher's hne, made of horse-hair. This plaid he wears Instead of a gown worn by those of his order in other countries [ told him he wanted the flaxen girdle that men of his orde» usually wear : he answered me, that he wore a leathern one. which was the same thing. Upon the matter, if he is spoke to when at meat, he answers again : which is contrary to ti»^ custom of his order. This poor man frequently diverts himself with angHng of trouts ; he lies upon straw, and has no bell (au others have) to call him to his devotion, but only his conscience, as he told me." — Martin's Description of the Western Islands^ p. 82. NOTE III. Of Brian's birth strange tales were told, St. V. p. 87. The legend which follows is not of the author's invention. It IS possible he may differ from modern critics in supposing that the records of human superstition, if peculiar to, and chara;^ teristic of, the country in which the scene is. laid, are a legitimate subject of poetry. He gives, however, a ready assent to the narrower proposition, which condemns all attempts of an irre- gular and disordered fancy to excite terror, by accumulating a train of fanta^tic and incoherent horrors, whether borrowed from all countries, and patched upon a narrative belongmg to one which knew them not, or derived from the author's own imii gi nation. I NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 275 In the present case, therefore, I appeal to the record which I nave transcrited, with the variation of a very few words, from the geographical collections made by the Laird of Macfarlane. I know not whether it be necessary to remark, that the miscella- neous concourse of youths and maidens on the night, and on the r;pot where the miracle is said to have taken place, might, in an incredulous age, have somewhat diminished the wonder which accompanied the conception of Gilli-Doir-Mag-revolhch. "There is hot two myles from Inverloghie, the church of Kilmalee, in Loghyeld. In ancient tymes there was ane church builded upon ane hill, which was above this church, which doeth now stand in this toune ; and ancient men doeth say, that there was a battell foughten on ane little hill not the tenth part of a myle from this church, be certaine men which they did not know what they were. And long tyme thereafter, certame herds of that toune, and of the next toune, called Unnatt, both wenches and youthes, did on a tyme conveen with others on that hiJl; and the day being somewhat cold, did gather the bones of dead men that were slayne long tyme before in that place, and did make a fire to warm them. At last they did all remove from the fire, except one maid or wench, which was verie cold, and she did remaine there for a space. She being quietlie her alone without am 3 other companie, took up her cloaths above her knees, or thereby, to warm her ; a wind did come and caste *he ashes upon her, and she was conceived of ane man-chyld. Several tymes hereafter she was verie sick, and at last she wJts knowne to bd with chyld. And then her parents did ask at her the matter heiroff, which the wench could not weel answer which way to satisfie them. At last she resolved them with an*? answer. As fortune fell upon her concerning this marvellous miracle, tne chyld being borne, his name was called Gili-doi* 276 NOTES TO C\NTO THIRD. Magh'revollich, that is to say, the Black Child, Son to tht Bones. So called, his grandfather sent him to schooll, and so he was a good schollar, and godlie. He did build this church which doeth now stand in Lochyeld called Kilmahe." — Mac- FARLANE, lit supra^ ii. 188. NOTE IV. Yet ne*er agaiii to braid her hair. The virgin snood did Alice wear. St. V. p. 87. The snood or riband, with which a Scottish lass braided her hair, had an emblematical signification, and applied to her maiden character. It was exchanged for the curch, toy, or coif, w^hen she passed, by marriage, into the matron state. But if the damsel was so unfortunate as to lose pretensions to the name of maiden without gaining a right to that of matron, she was neither permitted to use the snood nor advanced to the graver dignity of the curch. In old Scottish songs there occur many sly allusions to such misfortune, as in the old words to th^ popular tune of •* Ower the muir amang the heather ;" ** Down amang the broom, the broom, Down amang the broom, my dearie, The lassie lost her silken snood, That gard her greet till she was wearie,** NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 277 NOTE V. Th i desert gave him visions wild. Such as might suit the spectre's child. St. vii. p. 89. In adopting the legend concerning the birth of the Founaei 01 the Church of KilmaUie, the author has endeavoured to trace the effects which such a behef was likely to produce, in a barba- rous age, on the person to whom it related. It seems likely that he must have become a fanatic or an impostor, or that mixture of both which forms a more frequent character than either of them, as existing separately. In truth, mad persons are fre- quently more anxious to impress upon others a faith in their visions, than they are themselves confirmed in their reahty: as, on the other hand, it is difficult for the most cool-headed impostor long to personate an enthusiast, without in some degree believing what he is so eager to have believed. It was a natural attribute x^i such a character as the supposed hermit, that he should credit the numerous superstitions with which the minds of ordinary Highlanders are almost always imbued A few of these are slightly alluded to in this stanza. The River Demon, or River- horse, for it is that form which he commonly assumes, is the Kelpy of the Lowlands, an evil and malicious spirit, delighting to forebode and witness calamity. He frequents most Highland lakes and rivers ; and one of his most memorable exploits waa performed on the banks of Loch Vennachar, in the very distnci which fcrms the scene of our action ; it consisted in the destruc- Mon of a funeral procession, with all its attendants. 1 he "n^on- 278 NOTES TO CVNTO THIRD tide hag," called in Gaelic Glas-llch, a tall, emaciated, gigantic female figure, is supposed in particular to haunt the dislrict of Knoidart. A gob.m dressed in antique armour, and having one hand covered with blood, called, from that circumstance, Lliam' Dcargy or Red-hand, is a tenant of the forests of Glenmore and Rothemurcus. Other spirits of the desert, all frightful in shape, and malignant in disposition, are beheved to frequent different mountains and glens of the Highlands, where any unusual ap- pearance, produced by mist, or the strange lights that are some times thrown upon particular objects, never fails to present an apparition to the imagination of the solitary and melanchoiy mountaineer NOTE VI. The fatal Ben- Slue's boding scream. St. vii. p. 90. Most great families in the Highlands were supposed to have n tutelar, or rather a domestic spirit, attached to them, who took an interest in their prosperity, and intimated, by its wailings, any approaching disaster. That of Grant of Grant was called May Moullach, and appeared in the form of a girl, who had her arm covered v*'ith hair. Grant of Rothemurcus had an attendant called Bodach-anrdun, or the Ghost of the Hill: and many other exampl^^s might be mentioned. The Ben-Shie implies the female Fairy, whose lamentations were often supposed to precede the death of a chieftain of particular families. When she is visible, it is in the form of an old woman, with a blue mantle, iini streaming hair. A superstition of the same kind is. I NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 279 be.ieve, universally received by the inferior ranks of the native Irish. The death of the head of a Highland family is also sometimes supposed to be announced by a :hain of lights of different colours, called Dr'eugy or death of the Druid. The direction which it takes marks the place of the funeral. NOTE VII. Along Benharrow^s shingly side. Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride, St. vii. p. 90. A presage of the kind alluded to in the text is still believed to announce death to the ancient Highland family of M'Lean of Lochbuy. The spirit of an ancestor slain in battle is heard to gallop along a stony bank, and then to ride thrice around the family residence, ringing his fairy bridle, and thus intimating the approaching calamity. How easily the eye as well as the ear may be deceived upon such occasions, is evident from the stories of armies in the air, and other spectral phenomena with which history abounds. Such an apparition is said to have been witnessed upon the side of Southerfell mountain, between Penrith and Keswick, upon the 23d June, 1744, by two persons, William Lancaster of Blakehills, and Daniel Stricket his servant, whose attestation to ihe fact, with a full account of ihe apnarilion, dated the 21st July, 1745, is printed in Clarke's Survey of the Lakes. The apparition consisted of several troops of horse moving in regular order, with q steady rapid motion, making a curved sweep around the fell, and seeming to the spectators to disappeai 280 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. over the ridge of the mountain. Many persons witnessed tins phenomenon, and observed the last or last but one, of the sup- posed troop, occasionally leave his rank, and pass, at a gallop, to the front, when he resumed the same steady pace. This curious appearance, making the necessary allowance for imagination, may be perhaps sufficiently accounted for by optical deception.- — > Survey of the Lakes, p. 25. Supernatural intimations of approaching fate are not, I believe, confined to Highland famihes. Howell mentions having seen at a lapidary's, in 1632, a monumental stone, prepared for four persons of the name of Oxenham, before the death of each of whom, the inscription stated a white bird to have appeared and fluttered around the bed, while the patient was in the last agony. Familiar Letters, edit, 1720, 247. Glanville mentions one famil}^, the members of which received this solemn sign by music, the sound of which floated from the family residence, and seemed to die in a neighbouring wood ; another, that of Captain Wood, of Bampton, to whom the signal was given by knocking. But the most remarkable instance of the kind occurs in the MS. Memoirs of Lady Fanshaw, so exemplary for her conjugal aflec- tion. Her husband. Sir Richard, and she, chanced during their abode in Ireland to visit a friend, the head of a sept, who resided ni his ancient baronial castle, surrounded with a moat. At mid- night, she was awakened by a ghastly and supernatural scream, and looking out of bed, beheld, by the moonlight, a female face, and part of the form, hovering at the window. The distance from the ground, as well as the circumstance of the moat, ex- cluded the possibility that what she beheld was of this world The face was that of a young and rather handsome woman, but pale, and the hair, which was reddish, was loose and dishevelled The dress, which Lady Fanshaw's terror did not prevent hei NOTES TO CJ^NTO THIRD. 281 remarking accurately, was that of the ancient Irish. This appa- rition continued to exhibit itself for some time, and then vanished with two shrieks similar to that which had first excited Lady Fanshaw's attention. In the morning, with infinite terror, she communicated to her host what she had witnessed, and found him prepared not only to credit but to account for the apparition. "A near relation of my family," said he, "expired last night in this castle. We disguised our certain expectation of the event from you, lest it should throw a cloud over the cheerful reception which was your due. Now, before such an event happens in this family and castle, the female spectre whom you have seen always is visible. She is believed to be the spirit of a woman of inferior rank, whom one of my ancestors degraded himself by marrying, and whom afterwards, to expiate the dishonour done his family, he caused to be drowned in the castle moat." NOTE VIII. Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave Their shadows o^er Clan-Mpine'' s grave, St. viii. p. 91. Inch-Cailliach, the Isle of Nuns, or of Old Women, is a most boautiful island at the lower extremity of Loch-Lomond. The church belongmg to the former nunnery was long used as the place of worship for the parish of Buchanan, but scarcely any vestiges of it now remain. The burial-ground continues to be used, and coniams the family places of sepulture of several neighbouring clans. The monuments of the lairds of Macgregor and of other families, claiming a descent from the old Scottish King Alpine, are most remarkable. The Highlanders are as 282 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. jealous of their rights of sepulture, as may be expected from a people whose whole laws and government, if clanship can be culled so, turned upon the single principle of family descent "May his ashes be scattered on the water," was one of the deepest and most solemn imprecations which they used against an enemy NOTE IX. -The dun deer^s hide On fleelerfoot was never tied. St. xiii. p. 95. The present brogue of the Highlanders is made of half-dried leather, with holes to admit and let out the water ; for walking the moors dry-shod is a matter altogether out of the question The ancient buskin was still ruder, being made of undressed deer's hide, with the hair outwards, a circumstance which pro- cured the Highlanders the well-known epithet of Red-shanks, The process is very accurately described by one Elder (himself a Highlander), in the project for a union between England and Scotland, addressed to Henry VIII. "We go a hunting, and after that we have slain red deer, we flay off the skin by and by, and setting of our bare foot on the inside thereof, for want of cunning snoemakers, bv your grace's pardon, we play the cobblers, compassing and measuring so much thereof as shall reach up to our ankles, pricking the upper part thereof with holes, that tne watei may repass where it enters, and stretching it up with a strong thong of the same above our said ankles. So, and please your noble grace, we make our shoes. Therefore, we NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 288 asing such manner of shoes, the rough hairy side oiUvardi, i your grace's dominions of England, we be called Rough-focttd Scots.'^ — Pinkerton's History, vol. ii. p. 397 NOTE X. TVie dismal Coronach. St. XV. p. 98. The Coronach of the Highlanders, like the Ululatus of the Romans, and the Ululoo of the Irish, was a wild expression of lamentation poured forth by the mourners over the body of a departed friend. When the words of it were articulate, they expressed the praises of the deceased, and the loss the clan would sustain by his death. The following is a lamentation of thia kind, hterally translated from the Gaelic, to some of the ideas )f which the text stands indebted. The tune is so popular, that it has since become the war-march, or Gathering, of the clan Coronach on Sir Lauchlan^ Chief of Maclean. Which of all the Seanachies Can trace thy line from the root, up to Paradise, But Macvuirih, the son of Fergus ? No sooner had thine ancient stately tree Taken firm root in Albin, Than one of thy forefathers fell at Harlaw. — 'Twas then we lost a chief of deathless name 284 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 'Tis no base weed — no planted tree, Nor a seedling of last autumn ; Nor a sapling planted at Beltaip '* Wide, wide around were spread its lofty branche • - But the topmost bough is lowly laid ! Thou hast forsaken us before Sawaine.^ Thy dwelhng is the winter house ; Loud, sad, and mighty is thy death-song ! Oh ! courteous champion of Montrose ! Oh ! stately warrior of the Celtic Isles Thou shalt buckle thy harness on no more ! The coronach has for some years past been superseded at funerals by the use of the bagpipe, and that also is, like many other Highland peculiarities, falling into disuse, unless in remote districts. NOTE XL Benledi smv the Cross of Fire, It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire, St. xix. p. 102. A glance at the provincial map of Perthshire, or at any large map of Scotland, wii trace the progress of the signal through the small district of lakes and mountains, which, m exercise of my poetical privilege, I have subjected to the authority of my imaginary chieftain ; and which, at the period of my romance^ Bel's fire, o^ Whitsunday * Halloween NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 285 vras really occupied by a clan who claimed a descent froir i Alpine, a clan the most unfortunate, and most persecuted, bu neither the least distinguished, least powerful, or least brave of the tribes of Gael Slioch non rioghridh duchaisach Bha-shios an Dun Staiobhinish Aig an roubh crun na Halba othus 'Stag a cheil duchas fast ris. The first stage of the Fiery Cross is to Duncraggan^ u place near the Brigg of Turk, where a short stream divides Loch Achray from Loch-Vennachar. From thence it passes towards Callender, and then, turning to the left up the pass of liennie, is consigned to Norman at the chapel of Saint Bride, which stood on a small and romantic knoll in the middle of the valley, called Strath-Iie. Tombea and Arnandave, or Ardmandave, are names of places in the vicinity. The alarm is then supposed to pass along the lake of Lubnaig, and through the various glens in the district of Balquidder, including the neighbouring jracts of Gien- finlas and Strathgartney. 3^^E^--^k^''^^ reHiVBEsiTy jVot faster 6*er thy heathery braes, Balquidder, speeds the midnight ulaz-% St. xxiv. p. 100. It may be necessary to inform the southern reader, that the heath on the Scottish moorlands is often set fire to, that the sheep may have the advantage of the young herbage produced iu 286 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. room of the to'igh old heather plants. This custom, (execrated by sportsmen) produces occasionally the most beautiful nocturnal appearances, similar almost to the discharge of a volcano. The simile is not new to poetry. The charge of a warrior, in the fine ballad of Hardyknute, is said to be " like a fire to heather set." NOTE XIII. By his chieftain's hand, St. xxiv. p. 108. The deep and implicit respect paid by the Highland clansmen to their chief, rendered this both a common and a solemn oath. In other respects, they were like most savage nations, capricioua m their ideas concerning the obligatory power of oaths. One solemn mode of swearing was by kissing the dirk, imprecating upon themselves death by that, or a similar weapon, if they broke their vow. But for oaths in the usual form, they are said to have had little respect. As for the reverence due to the chief, it may be guessed from the following odd example of a Highland point of honour : "The clan whereto the above-mentioned tribe belongs is the only one I have heard of, which is without a chief: that is, being divided into families, under several chieftains, without any parti- cular patriarch of the whole name. And this is a great reproach, as may appear from an affair that fell out at my table, in the Highlands, between one of that name and a Cameron. The provocation given by the latter was, ' Name your chief.' The return of it at once was, * You are a fool.' They went out next norning, buV having early notice of it, I sent a small party c^ NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 281 «oldiers after them, which, in all probabihty, prevented somo barbarous mischief that might have ensued ; for the chieflesa Highlander, who 's himself a petty chieftain, was going to thtj place appointed with a smallsword and pistol, whereas the Cameron (an old man) took with him only his broadsword, according to agreement. " When all was over, and I had, at least seemingly, recon ciled them, I was told the words, of which I seemed to think but slightly, were, to one of the clan, the greatest of all provoca- tions." — Lttters from the North of Scotland, vol. ii. p. 221. NOTE XIV. Coir -nan- Uriskin. St. XXV. p. 108. This is a very steep ana most romantic hollow in the mountain of Ben-venue, overhanging the southeastern extremity of Loch- Katrine. It is surrounded with stupendous rocks, and over shadowed with birch trees, mingled with oaks, the spontaneous production of the mountain, even where its clifTs appear denuded of soil. A dale in so wild a situation, and amid a people whose genius bordered on the romantic, did not remain without appro priate deities. The name literally implies the Corri, or Den, of the Wild or Shaggy Men. Perhaps this, as conjectured by Mr Alexander Campbell,^ may have originally only implied its being the haunt of a ferocious banditti. But tradition has Hscribed to the Urisk, who gives name to the cavern, a figure Journey from Edinburgh, 1802, p 109. 288 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. Detween a goat and a man ; in short, however much the classica reader may be startled, precisely that of the Grecian Satyr The Urisk seems not to have inherited, v^^ith the form, the petu- lance of the sylvan deity of the classics : his occupations, on the contrary, resembled those of Milton's Lubbar Fiend, or of the Scottish Brownie, though he differed from both in name and appearance. " The Frisks,''^ says Dr. Graham, " were a sort of lubberly supernaturals, who, like the Brownies, could be gained over by kind attention, to perform the drudgery of the farm and It was believed that many of the families in the Highland? had one of the order attached to it. They were supposed to be dis- persed over the Highlands, each in his own wild recess, but the solemn stated meetings of the order were regularly held in this cave of Ben-venue. This current superstition, no doubt, alludes .0. some circumstance in the ancient histor}'^ of this country. '— Scenery on the Southern Confines of Perthshire, 1806. p. 19. It must be owned that the Coir, or Den, does not, in its pre- sent state, meet our ideas of a subterranean grotto, or cpve, being only a small and narrow cavity, among huge fragments of rocks, rudely piled together. But such a scene is liable to con- vulsions of nature, which a Lowlander cannot estimate, ard which may have choked up what was originally a cavern. At ieast the name and tradition warrant the author of a fictitious tale, ^ assert its having been such at the remote period in vhich thi^ ^ct^sT IS laid. NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 28ft NOTE XV. The wild pass of Beal-nam-Bo, St. xxvii. p. 110 Bdilach-i'iam-Bo, or the pass of cattle, is a most magnificent gJade, overhung with aged birch trees, a little higher up the mountain than the Coir-nan-Uriskin, treated of in the last note. The whole composes the most sublime piece of scenery thai imagination can conceive. NOTE XVI. •^ single page, to hear his sword, Alone attended on his lord, St. xxvii. p. 111. A Highland chief being as absolute in his patriarchal autho- rity as any prince, had a corresponding number of officers attached to his person. He had his body-guards, called Liiicht' iach, picked from his clan for strength, activity, and entire devotion to his person. These, according to their deserts, were sure to share abundantly in the rude profusion of his hospitality. It is recorded, for example, by tradition, that Allan Mac Lean, chief of that clan, happened upon a time to hear one of these %v3ante retainers observe to his comrade, that their chief grew old. " Whence do you infer that ?" replied the other. " When was it," rejoined the first, ** that a soldier of Allan's was obliged, as I am now, not only to eat the flesh from this bone, but eveo 290 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. to tear off the inner skin, or filament f The hint was sufficient and Mac Lean next morning, to relieve his followers from sucfc dire necessity, undertook an inroad on the mainland, the ravage of which altogether effaced the memory of his former expedition- for the like purpose. Our officer of Engineers, so often quoted, has given us a dis- tinct list of the domestic officers, who, independent of lAiicht- tach, or gardes de corps, belonged to the estabhshment of a Highland chief. These are, 1. The Henchman. (See these notes, page 265.) 2. The Bard. (See p. 244.) 3. Bladier, or spokesman. 4. Gillie-more, or sword-bearer, alluded to in the text. 5. Gillie'CasJlues who carried the chief, if on foot, over the fords. 6. Gillie-comstraine, who leads the chief's horse. 7. Gillie 'Thrusha-narinsh, the baggage-man. 8. The Piper. 9. The piper's gillie, or attendant who carries the bagpipe.^ iMthough this appeared, naturally enough, very ridiculous to an English officer, who considered the master of such a retinue as no more than an English gentleman of 500/. a year, yet, in the circum«.^anr#j of the chief, whose strength and importance con- sisted i the number and attachment of his followers, it was of the last consequence, in point of policy, to have in his gift sub- ordinate offices, which called immediately round his person those who were most devoted to him, and, being of value 1 1 their esti Eaation, were also the means of rewarding :hem. I Letters from Scotland, vol. iL p. 158. NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. NOTE I, The Taghairm calVd^ by which^ afar Our sires foresaw the events of wa'* St. IV. p. 118 The Highlanders, like all rude people, had various supersti.* tious modes of inquiring into futurity. One of the most noted was the Taghairm, mentioned in the text. A person was wrapped up in the skin of a newly-slain bullock, and deposited beside a waterfall, or at the bottom of a precipice, or in some other strange, wild, and unusual situation, where the scenery around him suggested nothing but objects of horror. In this situation he revolved in his mind the question proposed, and whatever was impressed upon him by his exalted imagination, passed for the inspiration of the disimbodied spirits, who haunt these desolate recesses. In some of the Hebrides, they attributed the same oracular power to a large black stone by the sea-shore, which they approached with certain solemnities, and considered the first fancy which came mto their own mmds after they did 80, to be the undoubted dictate of the tutelar deity of th? stone, Mid as sncb to be, if possible, punctually complied with. \Martin 292 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH, has recorded the follow'ng curious modes of Highland augury> in which the Taghairm, and its effects upon the person who was subjected to it, may serv** to illustrate the text. " It was an ordinary thing among the over-curious to consult an invisible oracle, concerning the fate of families and battles, &c. This was performed three different ways : the first was by a company of men, one of whom, being detached by lot, was afterwards carried to a river, which was the boundary between two villages ; four of the company laid hold on him, and, having shut his eyeb, tney took him by the legs and arms, and then, tossing him to and again, struck his hips with force against the bank. One of them cried out. What is it you have got here ? another answers, A log of birch-wood; The other cries again, Let his invisible friends appear from all quarters, and let them relieve him by giving an answer to our present demands ; and in a few minutes after, a number of little creatures came from the sea, who answered the question, and disappeared suddenly. The man was then set at liberty, and they all returned home, to take iheir measures according to the prediction of their false prophets ; but the poor deluded fools were abused, for the answer was still ambiguous. This was always practised in the night, and may hterally be called the works of darkness. " I had an account from the most intelligent and judicious men in the Isle of Skie, that about sixty-two years ago, the oracle was thus consulted only once, and that was in the parish of Kilmartin, on the east side, by a wicked and mischievous race of people, who are now extinguished both root and branch. " The second way of consulting the oracle was by a party of men, who first retired to solitary places, remote from any house-, nnd there they singled out one of their number, ard wrapt him in a big cow's hide, which they folded about him ; his whol© NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 293 Wy was covered vviih it, except his head, and so left in this ;)osture all night, until his invisible friends relieved him, by giving a proper answer to the question in hand ; which he rer^ived, as he fancied, from several persons that he found about nim all that time. His consorts returned to him at the break of day, and then he communicated his news to them ; which often proved fatal to those concerned in such unwarrantable inquiries. " There was a third way of consuhing, which was a confirma- tion of the second above-mentioned. The same company who put the man into the hide, took a live cat, and put him on a spit ; one of the number was employed to turn the spit, and one of his consorts inquired of him, What are you doing? he answered, 1 roast this cat until his friends answer the question ; which must be the same that was proposed by the man shut up in the hide And afterwards, a very big cat^ comes attended by a number of lesser cats, desiring to relieve the cat turned upon the spit, anU then answers the question. If this answer proved the same tha was given to the man in the hide, then it was taken as a con- firmation of the other, which, in this case, was believed infallible. " Mr. Alexander Cooper, present minister of North Vist, told me that one John Erach, in the Isle of Lewis, assured him, it vras his fate to have been led by his curiosity with some who consulted this oracle, and that he was a night within the hide, as above-mentioned ; during which time he felt and heard such terrible things, that he could not express them ; the impression it made on him was such as could never go off, and he said for a thousand worlds he would never again be concerned in the Lke ' The reader may have mot with the story of the " King of the Cats," m Lord Littleton's Letters. It is well known in the Highlands as a uurffery tale. 294 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. performance, for this had disordered him to a high degree, He< confessed it ingenuously, and with an air of great remorsf^ and seemed to be very penitent under a just sense of so great a crime ; he declared this about five years since, and is still living in the Lewis, for any thing I know." — Description of the Western Mes, p. 1 10. See also Pennant's Scottish Tour^ vol ii. p. 361. NOTE 11. The choicest of the prey we hady When swept our merry-men Gallangad. St. iv. p. 119. I know not if it be worth observing, that this passage is taken *Umost literally from the mouth of an old Highland Kern, or Ketteran, as they were called. He used to narrate the merry •loings of the good old time when he was a follower of Rob Roy Macgregor. This leader, on one occasion, thought proper to make a descent upon the lower part of the Loch-Lomond district, and summoned all the heritors and farmers to meet at the Kirk of Drynren, to pay him black-mail, i, c, tribute of forbearance and protection. As this invitation was supported by a band of thirty or forty stout fellows, only one gentleman, an ancestrr, if I mistake not, of the present Mr. Grahame of Gartmore, ventured to decline compliance. Rob Roy instantly swept his land of all he could drive away, and among the spoil v/as a bull of the old Scottish wild breed, whose ferocity occasioned great plague ta the Ketterans. "But ere we reached the Row of Dennan,' Baid the old man, *'a child might have scratched his ears.' NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 295 The circumstance is a minute one, but it paint*= the times when the poor beeve was compelled To hoof it o'er as many weary m'.xes, With goading pikemen hollowing at his heels, As e'er the bravest antler of the woods. — Ethwald, NOTE III. That huge cliff, whose ample verge Tradition calls the Heroes Targe, St. V. p. 119. There is a rock so named m the forest of Glenfinlas, by which tumultuary cataract takes its course. This wild place is said former times to have afforded refuge to an outlaw, who was pplied with provisions by a woman, who lowered them down ^m the brink of the precipice above. Water he procured for p^elf, by letting down a flagon tied to a string, into the black ol beneath the fall. NOTE IV Or raven on the blasted oak. That, vjatching while the deer is broke^ His morsel claims with sullen croak. St. V. p. 120. E^ery thing belonging to the chase was matter of solemnity among our ancestors, but nothing was more so than the mode o/ 296 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. cutting up, or, as it was technically called, breaking the slangh- lered stag. The forester had his allotted portion ; the hounds had a certain allowance ; and, to make the division as general as possible, the very birds had their share also. " There is a Hltie gristle," says Turberviile, "which is upon the spoone of tho brisket, which we call the raven's bone ; and I have seen in some places a raven so wont and accustomed to it, that she would never fail to croak and cry for it all the time you were in break* ing up of the deer, and would not depart till she had it." In the very ancient metrical romance of Sir Tristrem, that peerless Knight, who is said to have been the very deviser of all rules of chase, did not omit this ceremony • The raven he yaf his yiftes Sat on the fourched tre. Sir Tristrem, 2d edition, p. 34. The raven might also challenge his rights by the Book of St. Albans : for thus says Dame Juliana Berners : Slitteth anon The bely to the side, from the corbyn bone ; That is corbyn's fee, at the death he will be. Jonson, in " The Sad Shepherd," gives a more poetical acp^ut of the same ceremony. Marian, He that undoes him. Doth cleave the brisket bone, upon the spoon Of which a littlo. gristle grows — you call it— Robin Hood. The raven's bone. NOTES TO CANTO t O D R T H. 297 Marian, Now o'er head sat a raven On a sere bough, a grown, great bird, and hoarse Who, all the while the deer was breaking up, So croaked and cried for't, as all the huntsmen, Especially old Scathlocke, thought it ominous. NOTE V. TVhich spills the foremost foeman^s lifOi That party conquers in the strife. St. vi. p. 121 Though this be in the text described as a response & h« r -ghairm, or Oracle of the Hide, it was of itself an augury fre- q\iently attended to. The fate of the battle was often anticipated in the imagination of the combatants, by observing wb^'^^h party fir t shed blood. It is said that the Highlanders under Montrose were so deeply imbued with this notion, that, on the morning of the battle of Tippermoor, they murdered a defenceless herdsman wKom they found in the fields, merely to secure an advantage of so luch consequence to their party. NOTE VI. ^^lice Brand. St. xii. p. 127. This lit le fairy tale is founded upon a very curious Danish aallad. which occurs in K^mpk Viser, a collection of heroic 298 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. songs, first published in 1591, and reprinted In 1695, inscribed Dy Anders Sofrensen, the collector and editor, to Sophia. Queen of Denmark NOTE VII. Up spoke the moody Elfin King, Who wonn^d within the hill. St. xiii. p. 129 In a long dissertation upon the Fairy Superstitions, published in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, the most valuable part ' of which was supplied by my learned and indefatigibie friend, Dr. John Leyden, most of the circumstances are collected which can throw light upon the popular belief which even yet prevails respecting them in Scotland. Dr. Grahame, author of an enter- taining work upon the Scenery of the Perthshire Highlands, already frequently quoted, has recorded, with great accuracy, the peculiar tenets held by the Highlanders on this topic, in the vicinity of Loch-Katrine. The learned author is inclined to deduce the whole mythology from the Druidical system — an opinion to which there are many objections. "The Daione Shi\ or Men of Peace, of the Highlanders, though not absolutely malevolent, are believed to be a peevish, repining race of beings, who, possessing themselves but a scanty portion of happiness, are supposed to envy mankind their more complete and substantial enjoyment. The}^ are supposed to enjoy, in their subterranean recesses, a sort of shadowy happi- ness — a tinsel grandeur: which, however, they would willingly exchange for the more solid joys of mortaHty. NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 299 "They are believed to inhabit certain round grassy em/ nences, where they celebrate their nocturnal festivities by the light of the moon. About a mile beyond the source of the Forth, above Lochcon, there is a place called CoirshVan^ or the Cove o{ the Men of Peace, which is still supposed to be a favourite place of their residence. In the neighbourhood are to be seen many round conical eminences ; particularly one, near the head of the lake, b}'' the skirts of which many are still afraid to pass after sunset. It is believed, that if, on Hallow-eve, any person, alone, goes round one of these hills nine times, towards the left hand [sinistrorsum) a door shall open, by which he will be admitted into their subterraneous abodes. Many, it is said, of mortal race have been entertained in their secret recesses. There they have been received into the most splendid apart- ments, and regaled with the most sumptuous banquets and de- licious wines. Their females surpass the daughters of men in beauty. The seemingly happy inhabitants pass their time in festivity, and in dancing to notes of the softest music. But un- happy is the mortal who joins in their joys, or ventures to par- take of their dainties. By this indulgence, he forfeits for evei the society of men, and is bound down irrevocably to the condi tion of a Shi'ich, or Man of Peace. *' A woman, as is reported in the Highland tradition, was con- veyed, in days of yore, into the secret recesses of the Men of Peace. There she was recognised by one who had formerly been an ordinary mortal, but who had, by some fatality, become asso- ciated with the Shi'ichs. This acquaintance, still retaining some portion of human benevolence, warned her of her danger, and counselled her, as she valued her liberty, to abstain from eating and drinking with them for a certain space of time. She com- plied with the counse of her friend ; and when the period n» 800 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. Bigned was elapsed, she found herself again upon earth, restorea to the society of mortals. It is added, that when she examined the viands which had been presented to her, and which had appeared so tempting to the eye, they were found, now that the enchantment was removed, to consist only of the refuse of the earth."— p. 107, 111. NOTE VIII. Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oakt Our moonlight circlets screen ? Or who comes here to chase the deer^ Beloved of our Elfin Queen ? St. xiii. p. 129. It has been already observed, that fairies, if not positively malevolent, are capricious, and easily offended. They are, like other proprietors of forests, pecuharly jealous of their rights of vert and venison, as appears from the cause of offence taken, in the original Danish ballad. This jealousy was also an attribute of the northern Duergar, or dwarfs ; to many of whose dis- tinctions the fairies seem to have succeeded, if, indeed, they are not the same class of beings. In the huge metrical record of German chivalry, entitled the Helden-Buch, Sir Hildebrand, and the other heroes of whom it treats, are engaged in one of their most desperate adventures, from a rash violation of the rose- garden of an Elfin, or Dwarf King. There are yet traces of a belief in this worst and most mali- cious order of Fairies arnonor the Border wilds. Dr. Leyden has NOTES TO CAxNTO FOURTH. 801 introduced such a dwarf into his ballad entitled the C/»ut of Kee'dar, and has not forgot his characteristic detestation of the cimse. «* The third blast that young Keeldar blew, Still stood the limber fern, And a wee man, of swarthy hue Upstarted by a cairn. *' His russet weeds were brown as heath. That clothes the upland fell ; And the hair of his head was frizzle red As the purple heather-bell. " An urchin, clad in prickles red, Clung cow'ring to his arm ; The hounds they howl'd, and backward fled. As struck by fairy charm. * ' Why rises high the stag-hound's cry, Where stag-hound ne'er should be ? Why wakes that horn the silent morn, Without the leave of me ?' *' ' Brown dwarf that o'er the muirland strajrs, Thy name to Keeldar tell !' — The Brown Man of the Muirs, who stays Beneath the heather-bell. ***'Tis sweet beneath the heather-bell, To hve in autumn 1 rown ' 302 NOTES TO CaNTO FOURTH Aid sweet to hear the lav'rock's sweE Far, far from tower and town. "* But wo betide the shrilh'ng horn. The chase's surly cheer ! And ever that hunter is forlorn, Whom first at morn I hear.' " The poetical picture here given of the Duergar corriBponds exactly with the following Northumbrian legend, with which I was lately favoured by my learned and kind friend, Mr. Surtees, of Mainsforth, who has bestowed indefatigable labour upon the antiquities of the English Border counties. The subject is in itself so curious that the- length of the note will, I hope, be pardoned. *'I have only one record to offer of the appearance of our Northumbrian Duergar. My narratrix is Elizabeth Cockburn, an old wife of OiTerton, in this county, whose credit, in a case of this kind, will not, I hope, be much impeached, when I add, that she is, by her dull neighbours, supposed to be occasionally msane, but, by herself, to be at those times endowed w^ith a faculty of seeing visions, and spectral appearances, which shun the common ken. "In the year before the great rebellion, two young men from Newcastle were sporting on the high moors above Elsdon, and after pursuing their game several hours, sat down to dine, in a green glen, near one of the mountain streams. After their repast, the younger lad ran to the brook for water, and after stooping to drink, was surprised, on lifting bis head again, by the appearance of a brown dwarf, who stood on a crag covered; with brackens, across the burn. This extraordinary personage! NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. S03 did not appear to be above half the stature of a cornmon man, but was uncommonly stout and broad built, having the appear- ance of vast strength. His dress was entirely brown, the colour of the brackens, and his head covered with frizzled red hair. l]i$ countenance was expressive of the most savage ferocity, and his eyes glared like a bull. It seems, he addressed the young man first, threatening him with his vengeance, for having tres- passed on his demesnes, and asking him, if he knew in whose presence he stood ? The youth replied, that he now supposed him to be the lord of the moors ; that he offended through igno- rance ; and offered to bring him the game he had killed. The dwarf was a little mollified by this submission, but remarked that nothing could be more offensive to him than such an offer, as he considered the wild anmials as his subjects, and never failed to avenge their destruction. He condescended further to inform him, that he was, like himself, mortal, though of years far exceed- ing the lot of common humanity ; and (what I should not have had an idea of) that he hoped for salvation. He never, he added, fed on any thing that had Hfe, but lived, in the summer, on whortleberries, and in winter, on nuts and apples, of which he had great store in the woods. Finally, he invited his new acquaintance to accompany him home, and partake his hosp' tahty ; an offer which the youth was on the point of accepting, and was just going to spring across the brook, (which if he had done, says Elizabeth, the dwarf would certainly have torn him in pieces,) when his foot was arrested by the voice of his companion, who thought he had tarried long; and, on looking round again, * the wee brown man was fled.' The story adds, that he was imprudent enough to slight the admonition, and to sport over the moors, on his way homewards ; but soon after his return, he feil vnto a lingering disorder, and died within the year." 304 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. NOTE IX. Or who may dare on wold to wear The fairies' fatal green. St. xiii. p 129. As the Daoine Shi\ or Men of Peace, wore green habits, they vera supposed to take offence when any mortals ventured to assume their favourite colour. Indeed, from some reason, which has been, perhaps, originally a general superstition, greei^ is held in Scotland to be unlucky to particular tribes and countiei^. The Caithness men, who hold this belief, allege, as a reason, tha^ their bands wore that colour when they were cut off at the battle of Flodden ; and for the same reason they avoid crossing the Ord on a Monday, being the day of the week on which their ill omened array set forth. Green is also disliked by those of th^ name of Ogilvy ; but more especially is it held fatal to the whole clan of Grahame. It is remembered of an aged gentleman of that name, that when his horse fell in a fox-chase, he accounted for it at once, by observing, that the whip-cord attached to hia lash was of this unlucky colour. NOTE X. For thou wert christen'*d man. St. xiii. p. 129. The Elves were supposed greatly to envy the privileges acquired by Christian initiation, and they gave to those mortals who fell into their power a certain precedence, founded upon thii NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 305 advantageous distinction. Tamlane, in the old ballad, describe! his own rank in the fairy procession : ** For I ride on a milk-white steed, And aye nearest the town ; Because I was a chrisien'd knight. They gie me that renown/' I presume, that, in the Danish ballad, the obstinacy of the "Weiest Elf," who would not flee for cross or sign, is to be derived from the circumstance of his having been " christened man." How eager the elves were to obtain for their offspring the pre rogatives of Christianity, will be proved by the following story «* In the district called Haga, in Iceland, dwelt a nobleman called Sigward Forster, who had an >ntrigue with one of the subter ranean females. The elf became pregnant, and exacted from her lover a firm promise that he would procure the baptism of the infant. At the appointed time, the mother came to the churchyard, on the wall of which she placed a golden cup, and a stole for the priest, agreeable to the custom of making an offering at baptism. She then stood a little apart. When the priest left the church, he inquired the meaning of what he saw and demanded of Sigward if he avowed himself the father of the child. But Sigward, ashamed of the connection, denied the paternity. He was then interrogated if he desired that the child 'Jiould be baptized ; but this also he answered in the negative, est, by such request, he should admit himself to be the father. On which the child was left untouched and unbaptized. Where- upon the mother, in extreme wrath, snatched up the infant and the cup, and retired, lea^ing the priestly cope, of which fragments 306 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH are still in preservation. But this female denounced and imposed upon Sigward,and his posterity, to the ninth generation, a singular disease, with which many of his descendants are afflicted at this day." Thus wrote Einar Gudmund, pastor of the parish ot Garpsdale, in Iceland, a man profoundly versed in learning, frona whose manuscript it was extracted by the learned Torfaeus. — Historia Hrolfi. KrakiU Hafniae, 1715, prefatio. NOTE XL And gaily shines the Fairy-land^^ But all is glistening shoiv, St. XV. p I3l No fact respecting Fairy-land seems to be better ascertained than the fantastic and illusory nature of their apparent pleasure and splendour. It has been already noticed, in the former quotations from Dr. Grahame's entertaining volume, and may be confirmed by the following Highland tradition: "A woman, whose new-born child had been conveyed by them into their secret abodes, was also carried thither herself, to remain, how- ever, only until she should suckle her infant. She, one day, during this period, observed the Shi'ichs busily employed in mixing various ingredients in a boiling cauldron ; and, as soon as the composition was prepared, she remarked that they all carefully anointed their eyes with it, laying the remainder aside for future use. In a momf it when they were all absent, she also attempted to anoint her eyes with the precious drug, but had time to apply it to one eye only, when the Daoine Shi returned But with that ey<^ she was henceforth enabled to see every thing as it reali'^ passed in their secret abodes : — she saw every object, NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 307 not as she hitheito had done, in deceptive splendour and elegance^ but in its genuine colours and form. The gaudy ornaments of the apartment were reduced to the walls of a gloomy cavern. Soon after, having discharged her office, she was dismissed to her own home. Still, however, she retained the faculty of seeing with her medicated eye, every thing that was done, anywhero m her presence, by the deceptive art of the order. One day, amidst a throng of people, she chanced to observe the ShVicJu or man of peace, in whose possession she had left her child ; though to every other eye invisible. Prompted by materna affection, she inadvertently accosted him, and began to inquire after tne welfare of her child. The man of peace, astonished at being thus recognised by one of mortal race, demanded how she had, been enabled to discover him. Awed by the terrible frown of his countenance, she acknowledged what she had done. He spat in her eye, and extinguished it for ever." — Grahame's Sketches, p. 116-118. It is very remarkable, that this story, translated by Dr. Grahame from popular Gaelic tradition, is to be found in the Otia Imperialia of Gervase of Tilbury. A work of great interest might be compiled upon the origin of popular fiction, and the transmission of similar tales from age to age, and from country to country. The mythology of one period would then appear to pass into the romance of the next century, and that into the nursery-tale of the subsequent ages. Such an investigi tion, while t went greatly to diminish our ideas of the richness of human invention, would also show, that these fictions, however wild and childish, possess such charms for the popu- lace, as enable them to penetrate into countries unconnected by manners and language, and having no apparent intercourse, to afford the means of transmission It would carry me far beyond my bounds, to produce instances of this community of fable, TI 308 NOTES TO CaNTO FOURTH. among nations who never borrowed from each other an^ hing intrinsically worth learning*. Indeed the wide diffusion of popu *ar fictions may be compared to the facility with which straws and feathers are dispersed abroad by the wind, while valuable metals cannot be transported without trouble and labour. There lives, I believe, only one gentleman, whose unlimited acquaint- ance with this subject might enable him to do it justice ; I mean my friend Mr. Francis Douce, of the British Museum, w^iose usual kindness will, I hope, pardon my mentioning his lAmc; while on a subject so closely connected with his extens f e and curious researches. NOTE XII. / sunk down in a sinful fray ^ And, ^twixt life and death, was snatched away To the joyless Elfin bower. St. XV. p. \?2. The subjects of Fairy-land were recruited from the regions of humanity by a sort of crimping system, which extended ta adults as well as to infants. Many of those who were in this world supposed to have discharged the debt of nature, had only become denizens of the »* Londe of Faery." In the beautiful Fairy Romance of Orfee and Heurodiis (Orpheus and Eurydice) in the Auchinleck MS., is a striking enumeration of persons thus abstracted from middle earth. Mr. Ritson unfortunately pub- lished this romance from a copy in which this and many other highly poetical passages do not occur NOTES TC CANTO FOURTH. 309 •*Theii he gan biholde aboute al, And seighe ful liggeand within the wal Of folk that were thidder y-brought, And thought dede and nere nought ; Some stode withouten hadde ; And sum none armes nade ; And sum thurch the bodi hadde woimde ; And sum lay wode y-bounde ; And sum armed on hors sete ; And sum astrangled as thai ete ; And sum war in water adreynt ; And sum with fire al for-schreynt , Wives there lay on childe bedde ; Sum dede, and sum awedde ; And wonder fele ther lay besides, Right as thai slepe her undertides ; Eche was thus in this warld y-nome» With fairi thider y-come." NOTE XIII. fVho ever recked where, how, or when^ The prowling fox was trapped or slain P St. XXX. p. 148. St. John actually used this illustration when engaged in con- futing the plea of law proposed for the unfortunate Eari of Strafford : " It was true, we gave laws to hares and deer, because they are beasts of chase ; but it was never accounted either cruelty or foul play to knock foxes or wolves on the head as they can be found, because they are beasts of prey. In a word, th« 310 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. law and humanity were alike ; the one heing more fallacious, and the other more barbarous, than in any age had been vented in such an authority." — Clarendon's History of the Rebellion. NOTE XIV. Hi'i Highland cheer ^ The harden'r.Jlesh of mount ain^deer. St. xxxi. p. 149. The Scottish Highlanders, in former times, had a concise mode of cooking their venison, or rather of dispensing with cooking it, which appears greatly to have surprised the French, whom chance made acquainted with it. The Vidame of Chartres, when a hostage in England, during the reign of Edward VI., was permitted to travel into Scotland, and penetrated as far as to the remote Highlands, {au fin fond des Sauvages,) After a great hunting party, at which a most wonderful quantity of game was destroyed, he saw these Scottish Savages devour a part of their venison raw, without any further preparation than compressing it between two battens of wood, so as to force out the blood, and render it extremely hard. This they reckoned a great delicacy ; and when the Vidame partook of it, his com- pliance with their taste rendered him extremely popular. This curious trait of manners was communicated by Mons. de Mont- morency, a great friend of the Vidame, to Brantome, by whom it is recorded in Vies des Hommes Ilhistres, Discours Ixxxix., art. 14. The process by which the raw venison was rendered eatable is described very minutely in the romance of Perceforest, where Estonne, a Scottish kn'^^ht- errant, having slain a deer NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 311 says to his companion Claudius : " Sire, or mangerez vous j\ moy aussi. Voire si nous auions de feu, dit Claudius. Pi i Tame de men pere, dist Estonne, ie vous atourneray et cuiray q la maniere de nostre pays comma pour cheualier errant. Lon lira son espee, et sen vint a la branche dung arbre, et y fait vng grant trou, et puis fend la branche bien deux piedz, et boute, la cuisse du curf entredeux, et puis prent le licol de son cheval, et en lye la branche, et destraint si fort, que le sang et les humeurs , de la chair sailient hors et demeure la chair doulce et seiche. Lors prent la chair, et oste ius le cuir, et la chaire demeure aussi blanche comme si ce feust dung chappon. Dont dist a Claudius, Sire, ie la vous ay cuiste a la guise de mpn pays, vous en pouez manger hardyement, car ie mangeray premier. Lors met sa main a sa selle en vng lieu quil y auoit, et tire hors sel et poudre de poiure et gingembre, mesle ensemble, et le iecte dessus, et 1p frote sus bien fort, puis le couppe a moytie, et en donne a Claudius I'une des pieces, et puis mort en I'autre aussi sauoureusement quil est aduis que il en feist le pouldre voller. Gluant Claudius veit quil le mangeoit de tel goust, il en print grant faim et com* mence a manger tresvoulentiers, et dist a Estonne ; Par Tame da moy, ie ne mangeay oncquesmais de chair atournee de telle guise : mais doresenauant ie ne me retourneroye pas hors de mon chemin par auoir la cuite. Sire, dist Estonne, quant ie suis en desers d'Escosse, dont ie suis seigneur, ie cheuaucheray huit iours ou quinze que ie n'entreray en chastel ne en maison, et si ne verray feu ne personne viuant fors que bestes sauuages et de celles mangeray atournees en ceste maniere, et mieulx me plaira que la viande de I'empereur. Ainsi sen vont mangeant el cheuauchant iusques adonc quilz arriuerent sur une moult belle foiitaine qui estoit en vne valee. Quant Estonne la vit il dist a Claudius, allons boire a ceste fontaine. Or beuuons, dist Es^funoQ 312 NOTES ID CANTO fOUSTH. du boire que le grant dieu a pourueu a toutes gens, et que me plaist mieuix que les ceruoises d'Angletsrre." — La Treseleguntt Hystoire du tresnoble Roy Perceforest, Paris, 1531, fbl. lome i. fol. Iv. vers. After all, it may be doubted whether la chaire oiostree, for so the French called the venison thus summarily prepared, was any thing more than a mere rude kind of deer-ham NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. NOTE I. Not then claimed sovereignty his dut§ While Albany i with feeble hand^ Held borrowed truncheon ^^ command, St. vi. p. 156. There is scarcely a more disorderly period in Scottish history than that which succeeded the battle of Flodden, and occupied the minority of James V. Feuds of ancient standing broke out like old wounds, and every quarrel among the independent nobi- lity, which occurred daily, and almost hourly, gave rise to fresh bloodshed. "There arose," says Pitscottie, 'great trouble and deadly feuds in many parts of Scotland, both in the nonn and west parts. The Master of Forbes, in the north, slew the Laird of Meldrum under tryst, (i. e. at an agreed and secure meet- ing,) Likewise, the Laird of Drummelzier slew the Lord Fle- ming at the hawking ; and, likewise, there was slaughter among many other great lords." p. 12 L Nor was the matter much mended under the government of the Earl of Angus : for though he caused the King to ride tl rough all Scotland, " under pre- ence and colour of justice, to punish thief and traitor, none $ II 313 314 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. ivere found greater than were in their own company. And none at that time durst stnve with a Douglas, nor yet with a Douglas's man, for if they did, they got the worse. Therefore, none durst plainzie of no extortion, theft, reiif, nor slaughter, done lo them 6y the Douglasses, or their men ; in that cause they were not heard, so long as the Douglasses had the court in guiding."— Ibid. p. 133. NOTE XL The Gael, of plain and river heir, Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share, St. vii. p. 158 The ancient Highlanders verified in their practice the linia* of Gray: "An iron race the mountain cliffs maintain, Foes to the gentler genius of the plain ; For where unwearied sinews must be found. With sidelong plough to quell the flinty ground ; To turn the torrent's swift-descending flood. To tame the savage, rushing from the wood ; What wonder if, to patient valour train'd, They guard with spirit what by strength they ga'n'd; And while their rocky ramparts round they see The rough abode of want and liberty, (As lawless force from confidence will grow,) Insult the plenty of the vales bolow." So far, indeed, was a Creagh, or foray, from being nela dis- graceful among the ancient Highlanders, that a young chief wai NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 315 always expected to show his talents for command so soon as he assumed it, by leading his clan on a successful enterprise of this nature, either agninst a neighbouring sept, for which constant feuds usually furnished an apology, or against the Sassenach, Saxons, or Lowlanders, for which no apology was necessary. The Gael, great traditional historians, never forgot that the Low- lands had, at some remote period, been the property of their Celtic forefathers, which furnished an ample vindication of all the ravages that they could make on the unfortunate districts which lay within their reach. Sir James Grant of Grant is in possession of a letter of apology from Cameron of Lochiel, whose men had committed some depredation upon a farm called Moines, occupied by one of the Grants. Lochiel assures Grant, that, however the mistake had happened, his instructions were precise, that the party should foray the province of Moray, (a Lowland district,) where, as he coolly observes, "all men take their prey." NOTE IIL 7 only meant To show the reed on which you leant ^ Deeming this path you might pursue Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. St. xi. p. 162. This incident, like some other passages in the poem, illustra- tive of the character of the ancient Gael, is not imaginary, bul borrowed from fact. The Highlanders, with the inconsistency of most nations in the same state, were alternatey capable of 816 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. great exertions of generosity, and of cruel revenge and perfidy The following story I can only riote from tradition, but with such an assurance from those by ^vhom it was communicated, as permits me Kttle doubt of its authenticity. Early in the last century, John Gunn, a noted Cateran, or Highland robber, infested Inverness-shire, and levied black mail up to the walla of the provincial capital. A garrison was then maintained in the castle of that town, and their pay (country banks being unknown) was usually transmitted in specie, under the guard of a small escort. It chanced that the officer who commanded this little party was unexpectedly obliged to halt, about thirty miles from Inverness, at a miserable inn. About nightfall, a stranger, in the Highland dress, and of very prepossessing appearance, entered the same house. Separate accommodation being impos- sible, the Englishman offered the newly-arrived guest a part of his supper, which was accepted with reluctance. By the con versation, he found his new acquaintance knew well all the passes of the country, which induced him eagerly to request his company on the ensuing morning. He neither disguised his business and charge, nor his apprehensions of that celebrated freebooter, John Gunn. The Highlander hesitated a moment, and then frankly consented to be his guide. Forth they set in the morning ; and in travelling through a solitary and dreary glen, the discourse again turned on John Gunn. "Would you like to see him ?" said the guide ; and, without waiting an answer to this alarming question, he whistled, and the English officer, with his small party, was surrounded by a body of Highlanders, whose numbers put resistance out (f question, and who w^ere all well armed. " Stranger," resumed the guide, ** I am that very John Gunn by whom you feared to be intercepted, and noi without cause ; for I came to the inn last night with the expre«!f NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 817 purpose of learning your route, that I and my followers might ease you of your charge by the road. But I am incapable of betraying the trust you reposed in me, and having convinced you that you are in my powei, I can only dismiss you un- plundered and^ uninjured." He then gave the officer directions for his journey, and disappeared with his party, as ^aadenly as they had presented themselves. NOTE IV. On Bochastle the mouldering lines^ Where Eome, the empress of the worlds Of yore her eagle wings unfurl* d. St. xii. p. 163. The torrent which discharges itself from Loch Vennachar, the lowest and eastmost of the three lakes which form the scenery adjoining to the Trosachs, sweeps through a flat and extensive moor, called Bochastle. Upon a ismall eminence, called the Dun of Bochastle, and inaeed on the plain itself, are some entrenchments which have been thought Roman. There is adjac'?nt to Callander, a sweet villa, the residence of Cap am Fairf)ul, entitled the Roman Camp. 818 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. NOTE V. See, here, all vantageless I stand, Arm^d like thyself, unth single brand, St. xii. p. 164. The dueJists of former times did not always stand upon those punctilios respecting equality of arms, which are now judged essential to fair comhat. It is true, that in formal combats in the lists, the parties were, by the judges of the field, put as nearly as possible in the same circumstances. But in private duel it was often otherwise. In that desperate combat which was fought between Gtuelus, a minion of Henry III. of France, and Antra- guet, with two seconds on each side, from which only two persons escaped alive, Quel us complained that his antagonist had over him the advantage of a poniard which he used in parrying, while nis left hand, which he was forced to employ for the same pur- pose, was cruelly mangled. When he charged Antraguet with this odds, " Thou hast done wrong," answered he, " to forget thy dagger at home. We are here to fight, and not to setile punctihos of arms." In a similar duel, however, a younger brother of the house of Aubayne, in Angoulesme, behaved more generously on the like occasion, and it once threw away his dagger when his enemy challenged it as an undue advantage. But at this time hardly any thing can be conceived more horrid 1}^ brutal and savage, than the mode in which private quarrels were conducted in France. Those who were most jealous of the point of honour, and acquired the title of JRirfftnes, did not scruple to take every advantage of strength, numbers, surprise, and arms, to accomplish their revenge. The Sieur de Brantome, to wb^-)sa NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 319 4iscouise on duels I am obliged for these particulars, gives the following account of the death and principles of his friend, the Baron de Yitaux.. **J'ay oui conter a un Tireur d'armes, qui apprit a Millaud a en tirer, lequeJ s'appelloit le Seigneur Jacques Ferron, de Ja ville d'Ast, qui avoit este a moy, il fut despuis tue a Saincte-Basille en Gascogne, lors que Monsieur du Mayne I'assiegea, lui servant d'Ingenieur ; et de malheur, je I'avois adresse audit Baron quelques trois mois auparavant, pour Texercer a tirer, bien qu'il en s^eust prou ; mais il n'en fit conte : et le laissant, Millaud s'en servit, et le rendit fort adroit. Ce Seigneur Jacques done me raconta, qu'il s'estoit monte sur un noyer, assez loing, pour en voir le combat, et qu'il ne vist jamais homme y aller plus brave- ment, ny plus resolument, ny de grace plus asseuree, ny deter- minee. II commen^a de marcher de cinquante pas vers son ennemy, relevant, sou vent ses moustaches en haut d'une main; et estant a vingt pas de son ennemy (non plustost), il mit la main a I'espee qu'il tenoit en la main, non qu'il I'eust tiree encore ; mais en marchant, il fit voller le fourreau en Pair, en le secouant, ce qui est le beau de cela, et qui monstroit bien une grace de combat bien asseuree et froide, et nullement temeraire, commc? il y en a qui tirent leurs espees de cinq cents pas de I'ennemy, ( UNIVERSITY OF cAtlPOJ^NJ^ ClBRARY