His ready speech flowed fair and free,
In phrase of gentlest courtesy;

Yet seemed that tone, and gesture bland,
Less used to sue than to command.

XXII

Awhile the maid the stranger eyed,
And, reassured, at last replied,
That Highland halls were open stil!
To wildered 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 pulled for you;
On yonder mountain's purple head
Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled,
And our broad nets have swept the mere,
To furnish forth your evening cheer."-
Now, by the rood, my lovely maid,
Your courtesy has erred," he said;
"No right have I to claim, misplaced,
The welcome of expected guest.
A wanderer here by fortune tossed,
My way, my friends, my courser lost,
I ne'er before, believe me, fair,
Have ever drawn your mountain air,
Till on this lake's romantic strand,
I found a fay in fairy land.”-

"I well believe," the maid replied,
As her light skiff approached the side,
"I well believe, that ne'er before
Your foot has trod Loch-Katrine's shore;
But yet, as far as yesternight,

Old Allan-bane foretold your plight,-
A grey-haired sire, whose eye intent
Was on the visioned future bent.P
He saw your steed, a dappled grey,
Lie dead beneath the birchen way;
Painted exact your form and mien,
Your hunting suit of Lincoln green,
That tasselled horn so gaily gilt,

That falchion's crooked blade and hilt,
That cap with heron's plumage trim,
And yon two hounds so dark and grim.
He bade that all should ready be,
To grace a guest of fair degree;
But light I held his prophecy,

If force of evidence could anthorize us to believe things incon. istent with the general laws of nature, enough might be produced in favour of the existence of the Second Sight.

And deemed it was my father's horn,
Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne."

XXIV

The stranger smiled:-" Since to your home,
A destined errant knight I come,
Announced by prophet sooth and old,
Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold,
I'll lightly front each high emprize,
For one kind glance of those bright eyes;
Permit me, first, the task to guide
Your fairy frigate o'er the tide."
The maid with smile suppressed and sly,
The toil unwonted saw him try;

For seldom, sure, if e'er before,
His noble hand had grasped an oar;

Yet with main strength his strokes he drew,
And o'er the lake the shallop flew;
With heads erect, and whimpering cry,
The hounds behind their passage ply.
Nor frequent does the bright oar break
The darkening mirror of the lake,
Until the rocky isle they reach,
And moor their shallop on the beach.

XXV

The stranger viewed the shore around;
'Twas all so close with copse-wood bound,
Nor track nor pathway might declare
That human foot frequented there,
Until the mountain-maiden showed
A clambering unsuspected road,
That winded through the tangled screen,
And opened on a narrow green,
Where weeping birch and willow round
With their long fibres swept the ground;

Here, for retreat in dangerous hour,
Some chief had framed a rustic bower.

XXVI

It was a lodge of ample size,

But strange of structure and device;

Of such materials, as around

The workman's hand had readiest found.

Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared,
And by the hatchet rudely squared,

The Celtic chieftains, whose lives were continually exposed to peri), had usually, in the most retired spot of their domanis, 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. In one of these Charles Edward took refuge after the battle of Culloden.

To give the walls their destined height,
The sturdy oak and ash unite;

While moss and clay and leaves combined
To fence each crevice from the wind.
The lighter pine-trees over-head,
Their slender length for rafters spread,
And withered heath and rushes dry
Supplied a russet canopy.

Due westward, fronting to the green,
A rural portico was seen,

Aloft on native pillars borne,

Of mountain fir with bark unshorn,
Where Ellen's hand had taught to twino
The ivy and Idaan vine,

The clematis, the favoured flower,
Which boasts the name of virgin-bower,
And every hardy plant could bear
Loch-Katrine's keen and searching air.
An instant in this porch she stayed,
And gaily to the stranger said,
"On Heaven and on thy lady call,
And enter the enchanted hall!”

XXVII

"My hope, my heaven, my trust must be,
My gentle guide, in following thee."-
He crossed the threshold-and a clang
Of angry steel that instant rang.
To his bold brow his spirit rushed,
But soon for vain alarm he blushed,
When on the floor he saw displayed,
Cause of the din, a naked blade

Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung
Upon a stag's huge antlers swung;

For all around, the walls to grace,

Hung trophies of the fight or chase:
A target there, a bugle hero,

A battle-axe, a hunting-spear,

And broad-swords, bows, and arrows store,
With the tusked trophies of the boar.
Here grins the wolf as when he died,
And there the wild-cat's brindled hide
The frontlet of the elk adorns,

Or mantles o'er the bison's horns;
Pennons and flags defaced and stained,
That blackening streaks of blood retained,
And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white,
With otter's fur and seal's unite,
In rude and uncouth tapestry all,
To garnish forth the sylvan hall.

XXVIII

The wondering stranger round him gazed,
And next the fallen weapon raised;
Few were the arms whose sinewy strength
Sufficed to stretch it forth at length.
And as the brand he poised and swayed,
"I never knew but one," he said,
"Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield
A blade like this in battle-field."

She sighed, then smiled and took the word;
"You see the guardian champion's sword:
As light it trembles in his hand,

As in my grasp a hazel wand;

My sire's tall form might grace the part
Of Ferragus, or Ascabart:

But in the absent giant's hold

Are women now, and menials old."

ΣΤΙΧ

The mistress of the mansion came,
Mature of age, a graceful dame;
Whose easy step and stately port
Had well become a princely court,

To whom, though more than kindred knew
Young Ellen gave a mother's due.
Meet welcome to her guest she made,
And every courteous rite was paid,
That hospitality could claim,

Though all unasked his birth and name;*
Such then the reverence to a guest,
That fellest foe might join the feast,
And from his deadliest foeman's door
Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er.
At length his rank the stranger names-
"The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James;
Lord of a barren heritage,

Which his brave sires, from age to age,
By their good swords had held with toil;
His sire had fallen in such turmoil,
And he, God wot, was forced to stand
Oft for his right with blade in hand.

• These two sons of Anak flourished in romantic fable. The first is known to the admirers of Ariosto, by the name of Ferrau. He was an antagonist of Orlando, and was at length slain by him in single combat. Ascapart, or Ascabart, makes a very material figure in the history of Beirs of Hampton, by whom he was conquered,

The Highlanders are said to have considered it as churlish to ask a stranger his name and 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 bencfit of the assistance he stood in need of.

This morning with Lord Moray's train
He chased a stalwart stag in vain,

Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer,
Lost his good steed, and wandered here."

XXX

Fain would the Knight in turn require
The name and state of Ellen's sire;
Well showed the elder lady's mien,
That courts and cities she had seen;
Ellen, though more her looks displayed
The simple grace of sylvan maid,
In speech and gesture, form and face,
Showed she was come of gentle race;
"Twere strange in ruder rank to find
Such looks, such manners, and such mind.
Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave,
Dame Margaret heard with silence grave;
Or Ellen, innocently gay,

Turned all inquiry light away.

"Weird women we! by dale and down,
We dwell afar from tower and town.
We stem the flood, we ride the blast,
On wandering knights our spells we cast;
While viewless minstrels touch the string,
"Tis thus our charmèd rhymes we sing."
She sang, and still a harp unseen
Filled up the symphony between.

XXXI

Song.

"Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking!
Dream of battled fields no more,

Days of danger, nights of waking.

In our isle's enchanted hall,

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,

Fairy strains of music fall,

Every sense in slumber dewing.

Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,

Dream of fighting fields no more;

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,

Morn of toil, nor night of waking.

"No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
Armour's clang, or war-steed champing,
Trump nor pibroch" summon here

Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.

"A Highland air, suited to the particular passion which the musicia would excite or assuage.-Jamieson.