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It is my right, deny it not!" "Little we reck," said John of Brent, 260 We Southern men, of long descent; Nor wot1 we how a name, a word, Makes clansmen vassals to a lord: Yet kind my noble landlord's part,— God bless the house of Beaudesert! 265 And, but I loved to drive the deer, More than to guide the laboring steer, I had not dwelt an outcast here. Come, good old Minstrel, follow me; Thy lord and chieftain shalt thou see."

270 Then, from a rusted iron hook,

A bunch of ponderous keys he took,
Lighted a torch, and Allan led

Through grated arch and passage dread; Portals they pass'd, where, deep within, 275 Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters' din; Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored,

Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword, And many an hideous engine2 grim, For wrenching joint, and crushing limb, 280 By artist form 'd, who deem'd it shame And sin to give their work a name. They halted at a low-brow'd porch, And Brent to Allan gave the torch, While bolt and chain he backward roll'd, 285 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, 290 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

295 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. 300 Roused at the sound, from lowly bed A captive feebly raised his head;

And oft his fever'd limbs he threw In toss abrupt, as when her sides Lie rocking in the advancing tides, That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, 315 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? 320 My mother? Douglas? tell me all? Have they been ruin'd in my fall? Ah, yes! or wherefore art thou here? Yet speak, speak boldly, do not fear." (For Allan, who his mood well knew, 325 Was choked with grief and terror too.)— Who fought-who fled? Old man, be brief;

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The Chieftain rear'd his form on high,
And fever's fire was in his eye;

340 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
345 Shall harper play, or warrior hear!-
That stirring air that peals on high,
O'er Dermid's race1 our victory.
Strike it! and then (for well thou canst)
Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced,
350 Fling me the picture of the fight
When met my clan the Saxon might.
I'll listen, till my fancy hears

The wondering Minstrel look'd, and knew 355 Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu! For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, 305 They, erring, deem'd the Chief he sought.

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The clang of swords, the crash of spears! These grates, these walls, shall vanish then, For the fair field of fighting men, And my free spirit burst away As if it soar'd from battle fray." The trembling Bard with awe obey'd, Slow on the harp his hand he laid; 360 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

1 The Campbells.

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A narrow and a broken plain,
Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws;
And here the horse and spearmen pause,
425 While, to explore the dangerous glen,
Dive through the pass the archer-men.

At once there rose so wild a yell
Within that dark and narrow dell,
As all the fiends, from heaven that fell,
430 Had peal'd the banner-cry of hell!

435

380

The deer has sought the brake;
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.

440

385

390

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,
395 That up the lake comes winding far!
To hero bound for battle-strife,
Or bard of martial lay,

400

405

410

"Twere worth ten years of peaceful life,
One glance at their array!

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;
Their barded3 horsemen, in the rear,
The stern battalia4 crown'd.
No cymbal clash 'd, no clarion rang,
Still were the pipe and drum;
Save heavy tread, and armor's clang,
The sullen march was dumb.

445

450

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 dreadful 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 Tinchel1 cows the game!
They come as fleet as forest deer,

We'll drive them back as tame."'

455 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
460 Was brandishing like beam of light,

Each targe2 was dark below;
And with the ocean's mighty swing,
When heaving to the tempest's wing,
They hurl'd them on the foe.
465 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'd his rearward rank

There breathed no wind their crests to 470 Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank,

shake,

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"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;
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!

1 A circle of hunters surrounding game.
2 shield

485

490

And refluent through the pass of fear,
The battle's tide was pour'd;
Vanish'd the Saxon's struggling spear,
Vanish'd the mountain-sword.

As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep,
Receives her roaring linn,1

As the dark caverns of the deep

Suck the wild whirlpool in,
So did the deep and darksome pass
Devour the battle's mingled mass:
None linger now upon the plain,
Save those who ne'er shall fight again.

495 Now westward rolls the battle's din,
That deep and doubling pass within.
Minstrel, away, the work of fate
Is bearing on: its issue wait,

Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile
500 Opens on Katrine's lake and isle.
Gray Benvenue I soon repass'd,
Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast.
The sun is set; the clouds are met,
The lowering scowl of heaven
An inky hue of livid blue

505

To the deep lake has given;
Strange gusts of wind from mountain-glen
Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again.
heeded not the eddying surge,

510 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 strife
That parts not but with parting life,
515 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;

520 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.
525 At weary bay each shatter'd band,
Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand;
Their banners stream like tatter'd sail,
That flings its fragments to the gale,
And broken arms and disarray
530 Mark'd the fell havoc of the day.

Viewing the mountain's ridge askance
The Saxons stood in sullen trance,
Till Moray pointed with his lance,

And cried-"Behold yon isle!
535 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,2 540 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, 1 cataract; waterfall

filled with gold coins embossed with the King's head wearing a bonnet instead of a crown

545 On earth his casque and corslet rung,
He plunged him in the wave:

All saw the deed, the purpose knew,
And to their clamors Benvenue
A mingled echo gave;

550 The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer,
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:
555 A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast,
Her billows rear'd 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,

560 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; 565 I mark'd Duncraggan's widow'd dame,1 Behind an oak I saw her stand,

A naked dirk gleamed in her hand:
It darken 'd; but, amid the moan
Of waves, I heard a dying groan;
570 Another flash! - the spearman floats
A weltering corse beside the boats,
And the stern matron o'er him stood,
Her hand and dagger streaming blood.
"Revenge! revenge!" the Saxons cried,
575 The Gaels' exulting shout replied.
Despite the elemental rage,
Again they hurried to engage;

But, ere they closed in desperate fight,
Bloody with spurring came a knight,
580 Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag,
Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag.
Clarion and trumpet by his side
Rung forth a truce-note high and wide,
While, in the Monarch's name, afar
585 An herald's voice forbade the war,
For Bothwell's lord,2 and Roderick bold,
Were both, he said, in captive hold.

But here the lay made sudden stand!
The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand!
590 Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy
How Roderick brook'd his minstrelsy:
At first, the Chieftain, to the chime,
With lifted hand, kept feeble time;
That motion ceased, yet feeling strong
595 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
wrench'd;

600 Set are his teeth, his fading eye
Is sternly fix'd on vacancy;
Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew

1 The widow of the Duncan lamented in the
Coronach (p. 456).

2 Ellen's father.

His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu! Old Allan-bane look'd on aghast, 605 While grim and still his spirit pass'd: But when he saw that life was fled, He pour'd his wailing o'er the dead:

LAMENT

And art thou cold and lowly laid, Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 610 Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade! For thee shall none a requiem say? For thee, who loved the minstrel's lay, For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, The shelter of her exiled line, 615 E'en in this prison-house of thine, I'll wail for Alpine's honor'd pine!

What groans shall yonder valleys fill! What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill! What tears of burning rage shall thrill, 620 When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, Thy fall before the race was won, Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun! There breathes not clansman of thy line, But would have given his life for thine, 625 O, woe for Alpine's honor'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!
630 And, when its notes awake again,
Even she, so long beloved in vain,
Shall with my harp her voice combine,
And mix her woe and tears with mine,
To wail Clan-Alpine's honor'd pine.

635 Ellen the while with bursting heart
Remain'd in lordly bower apart,
Where play'd with many-color'd gleams,
Through storied pane1 the rising beams.
In vain on gilded roof they fall,
640 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;
645 Or, if she look'd, 'twas but to say,
With better omen dawn'd the day
In that lone isle, where waved on high
The dun-deer's hide for canopy;
Where oft her noble father shared
650 The simple meal her care prepared,
While Lufra, crouching by her side
Her station claim'd with jealous pride,
And Douglas, bent on woodland game,
Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Græme,
655 Whose answer, oft at random made,

The wandering of his thoughts betray'd.
Those who such simple joys have known,

1 windows decorated with historical scenes (See
Il Penseroso, 159.)

Are taught to prize them when they're

gone.

But sudden, see, she lifts her head! 660 The window seeks with cautious tread. What 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 sung:

LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN

665 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,
670 Hunting the hart in forest green,
With bended bow and bloodhound free,
For that's the life is meet for me.

I hate to learn the ebb of time From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, 675 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,
680 Have not a hall of joy for me.

No more at dawning morn I rise,
And sun myself in Ellen's eyes,
Drive the fleet deer the forest through,
And homeward wend with evening dew;

685 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!

The heart-sick lay was hardly said, 690 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 knight was near. She turn'd the hastier, lest again 695 The prisoner should renew his strain, "O welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said; "How may an almost orphan maid Pay the deep debt"-"O say not so! To me no gratitude you owe. 700 Not mine, alas! the boon 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
705 May lay his better mood aside.

Come, Ellen, come! 'tis more than time,
He holds his court at morning prime.'
771
With beating heart, and bosom wrung,
As to a brother's arm she clung.

1 dawn (It is literally the first hour of prayer,
or 6 A. M.)

710 Gently he dried the falling tear,

And gently whisper'd hope and cheer; Her faltering steps half led, half stayed, Through gallery fair, and high arcade, Till, at his touch, its wings of pride 715 A portal arch unfolded wide.

Within 'twas brilliant all and light, A thronging scene of figures bright; It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight, As when the setting sun has given 720 Ten thousand hues to summer even, And from their tissue fancy frames Aërial knights and fairy dames. Still by Fitz-James her footing stayed; A few faint steps she forward made, 725 Then slow her drooping head she raised, And fearful round the presence gazed; For him she sought, who own'd this state, The dreaded prince whose will was fate. She gazed on many a princely port, 730 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. 735 To him each lady's look was lent;

On him each courtier's eye was bent; Midst furs, and silks, and jewels sheen, He stood, in simple Lincoln green,1 The centre of the glittering ring. 740 And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King!

As wreath of snow, on mountain-breast,
Slides from the rock that gave it rest,
Poor Ellen glided from her stay,
And at the Monarch's feet she lay;
745 No word her choking voice commands;
She show'd the ring, she clasp'd her hands.
O! not a moment could he brook,
The generous prince, that suppliant look!
Gently he raised her; and, the while,
750 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.
755 To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring;
He will redeem his signet ring.

Ask nought for Douglas; yester even,
His prince and he have much forgiven.
Wrong hath he had from slanderous
tongue,

760 I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong.
We would not, to the vulgar crowd,
Yield what they craved with clamor loud;
Calmly we heard and judged his cause,

1 A cloth made in Lincoln, worn by huntsmen.

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Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, And on his neck his daughter hung. 775 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 eye 780 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.1 785 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, 790 And Normans call me James Fitz-James. Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, Thus learn to right the injured cause." Then, in a tone apart and low,"Ah, little traitress! none must know 795 What idle dream, what lighter thought, What vanity full dearly bought,

Join'd to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew
My spell-bound steps to Benvenue,
In dangerous hour, and all but gave

800 Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive!''2 -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?"

805 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 Græme, And more she deem'd the Monarch's ire 810 Kindl'd '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 kings 815 Alone can stay life's parting wings: I know his heart, I know his hand, Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand:

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