The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott ... Notes & life of the author.
Scott, Walter, Sir, 1771-1832.

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Page  III CONTENTS. MXIOIx ON SIR WALTER ScOTT... LIST SIR WLTE S W OTER SeOT'S WoM.. THE LAY OF THE LAST MinSTSIFJ Advertisement.. ~ 2 Introduction........ Canto First..... 6 Canto Second... 16 Canto Third.... 28 Canto Fourth.. 9 Canto Fifth.5. t 3 Canto Sixth..... 67 HARMxON, A TALE OF FLODDE1 FIELDb Advertisement..... 84 Canto First.-Introduction... 85 The Castle...... 92 Canto Second.-Introductio.... 10 The Convent..... 112 Canto Third.-Introduction.... 12T The Hostel, or Inn..... 132 Canto Fourth.-Introduction.... 148 The Camp..... 153 Canto Fifth.-Introduction.... 171 The Court... 176 Canto Sixth.-Introduction.... 202 The Battle... a.. 207 TiEa LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto First.-The Chase... 239 Canto Second.-The Island.... 2 Canto Third.-The Gathering... 278 Canto Fourth.-The Prophecy.. 297 Canto Fifth.-The Combat.... 817 Canto Sixth.-The Guard Room,.u8

Page  IV i~T CONTENTS. PAGX TEE VISION OF DON RODERICo Introduction.363 The Vision 3.66 Conclusion..382 O0KEBY.-Canto First.. 391 Canto Second...... 410 Canto Third... 427 Canto Fourth...... 446 Canto Fifth..... 464 Canto Sixth...... 488 BALLADS, LYRICAL PIECES, AND SONGS. Glenfinlas, or Lord Ronald's Coronach. 513 The Eve of St. John. 5. 20 Cadyow Castle..526 The Grey Brother..... 532 Thomas the Rhymer..... 536 The Fire-King.. 545 Frederick and Alice..... 549 The Wild Huntsmen. 552 War Song of the Royal Edinburgh Light Dragoons 557 The Norman Horse-shoe.... 59 The Dying Bard...... 56 The Maid of Toro.... 561 Helvellyn... 61 gows to the whole of the Poems at t end 4of t Vboom

Page  V MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOIL SmR WALTER SCOTT was born in Edinburgh on the 15th of August, 1771, the same day which gave birth to Napoleon the Great. The father of Sir Walter was a writer to the Signet; a man of extensive business, of integrity, sincerity, and benevolence of disposition; and for along time he was an elder in the church of Old Grey Friars. He died in the 70th year of his age. His paternal grandfather was Mr. Robert Scott, farmer, at Sandyknow, in the vicinity of Smailholm Tower, in Roxburghshire. Dr. John Rutherford, maternal grandfather of the subject of this memoir, and one of the pupils of Boerhaave, was the first professor of physic in the university of Edinburgh, to which office he was elected in 1727, and which he resigned in 1766. "I was (says Scott) an uncommonly healthy child; but had nearly died in consequence of my nurse being ill of a consumption, which she chose to conceaL The woman was dismissed, and I was consigned to a healthy peasant, and showed every sign of health until I was about eighteen months old. One night, however, I exhibited a great reluctance to be put to bed; and after being chased round the room, I was with difficulty consigned to my dormitory. In the morning I was affected with fever; and in the course of three days afterwards, it was discovered I had lost the power of my right leg." The most able physicians were consulted; and by the advice of his grandfather, Dr. Rutherford, Scott was ultimately sent to reside at the farm-house of Sandy-know, the residence of his paternal grandfather. Sir Walter remained lame for life; but his activity among his school.-fellos was nevertheless remarkable; for, according to Scott's own account, he was as mischievous as the wildest urchin of his acquaintance. In his fourth year he was sent to Bath, in the care of his aunt, where he remained about a year. By this time his health had become a good deal confirmed by that imperceptible exercise to which he had been subjected by the good sense of his grerniather; and although his limb was much shrunken and contracted, / _~~~______~~1

Page  VI by degrees he began to stand, to walk, and to run. Prom Bath he returned to Sandy-know; and when about eight years of age, he was removed to Prestonpans, as it was considered that sea-bathing might be beneficial to his lameness. In Prestonpans Scott remained some weeks, whence he was sent back to Edinburgh. After having undergone the usual routine of juvenile instruction, Sir Walter, in 1779, became a pupil in the High School of Edinburgh; but as a scholar he appears to have been by no means remarkable for proficiency. Scott's health again became delicate, and it was consequently deemed advisable that he should be sent to reside with his aunt at Kelso; and it was during the time he *attended the grammar-school of the town, that he became acquainted with James and John Ballantyne. According to James Ballantyne, Scott was then devoted to antiquarian lore, and was certainly the best story-teller he ever heard. "In the intervals of school-hours, (says James,) it was out constant practice to walk together by the banks of the Tweed, and his stories appeared to be quite inexhaustible.' This friendship with the Ballantynes continued through life; as John had a share in the publication of many of Scott's works, and James was the printer of nearly the whole of his productions. When Scott returned to Edinburgh his acquaintance with English literature had gradually extended itself; and he was in the habit of perusing history, poetry, voyages and travels, and an unusual quantity of fairy tales, eastern stories, romances, &c.; in short he had been "driving through a sea of books, like a vessel without a pilot or a rudder." After having been two years under the rector of the High School, Sir Walter entered himself, in 1783, for the Humanity or Latin class in the university of Edinburgh, under Professor Hill, and the Greek class under Professor Dalzel; and for the latter, once more in 1784. But the only other class for which he seems to have matriculated at the College wvas that of Logic, under Professor Bruce, in 1785. In 1786, he was apprenticed to his father for five years, in order to be initiated in the dry technicalities of conveyancing. Scott, however, had the strongest aversion to the confinement, and the dull routine of the office. His desk was usually supplied with a store of works of fiction; and,every thing which had reference to knight-errantry was

Page  VII particularly acceptable. But about the second year of his apprenticeship he had the misfortune to burst a blood-vfssel, which confined him to his bed for many weeks, during which time, as conversation was prohibited, reading and playing at chess was his only refuge; so, to the romances and poetry, which he chiefly delighted in, he added the study of history, especially as connected with military events, which furnished him with those materials that he ultimately made available for his future compositions. After this illness he enjoyed a state of most robust health; and as his frame gradually became hardened, he was rather disfigured than disabled by his lameness. Excursions on foot or horseback now formed Scott's favourite amusement; and wood, water, and wilderness,.had inexpressible charms for him. Show him but an old castle, or a field of battle, and he immediately filled it with its combatants in their proper costume, and overwhelmed his hearers by the enthusiasm of his description. Like Dr. Johnson, Scott had no ear for mere music; the notes failed to charm him if unaccompanied by good words, or immediately associated with some history or strong sentiment upon which his imagination could fasten; therefore, however happy others may have been in forming an union between his poetry and their music, Scott was not usually successful in composing words to a set tune. In 1791, Scott was admitted a member of the Speculative Society of Edinburgh;* and very shortly afterwards was, appointed its librarian, and subsequently, its treasurer and secretary. The time of Scott's apprenticeship had now elapsed; and, after some consideration, he determined to prepare himself for the bar, for which purpose he diligently applied his mind to the study of the Roman civil law, as well as to the municipal law of Scotland. On the 10th of July, 1792, when just on the point of completing his twenty-fir'st year, he was called to the bar as an advocate, and enabled, by the affluence of his father, to begin life in an elegant house in a fashionable part of the town; but it was not his lot to acquire wealth or distinction at the bar. The truth is, his mind was not yet emancipated from that enthusiastic pursuit of knowledge which had distinguished his youth. His necessities were not so great as to make an exclusive appli* One of those literary societies which are formed not merely for ornamental display, bult for the more beneficial purpose of composition.

Page  VIII Vtm MeMoIR OF cation to his profession imperative; and he therefore seemed destined to join what a sarcastic barrister has termed, "the ranks of the gentlemen who are not anxious for business." Although he could speak readily and fluently at the bar, his intellect was not at all of a forensic cast. He appeared to be too much of the abstract and unworldly scholar, to assume readily the habits of an adroit pleader; and, even although he had been perfectly competent to the duties, it is a question if his external aspect and general reputation would have permitted the generality of agents to intrust them to his hands. In 1796, he presented the world with a translation from the German of Biirger'sLeonara, and the Wild Huntsman; which were favourably received by his immediate connexions. It is worthy of remark, that in this same year Scotland was deprived of Robert Burns,-" her glory and her shame,"-"A poor man from his birth, and an exciseman from necessity." At the time when Sir Walter entered public life, almost all the respectable part of the community were indignant at the hostile menaces of France, and numerous bodies of volunteer militia were consequently formed to meet the threatened invasion. In the beginning of 1799, the gentlemen of Mid-Lothian imitated the example, by imbodying themselves in a cavalry corps, under the name of the Royal Mid-Lothian Regiment of Cavalry; and Mr. Walter Scott had the honour to be appointed its adjutant, for which office his lameness was considered no bar. He was a very zealous officer, and highly popular in the regiment, on account of his extreme good-humour and powers of social entertainment. It was during a visit to the English lakes, that; Scott became'acquainted with Miss Margaret Carpenter, a daughter of John Carpenter, Esq., of the city of Lyons: a gentleman who had fallen a victim to the excesses of the French revolution. This lady (after obtaining the consent of her guardian) he married on Christmas eve, 1797, and. with her came an annuity of ~400 a-year. The affection and conjugal tenderness of Mrs. Scott contributed considerably to the happiness of the poet's life. Lady Scott died May 15, 1826, leaving two sons and two daughters. The elder son (now Sir Walter Scott) is an officer in the army, and'Charles Scott is attached to a government office. The elder daughter (Sophia) married J. G. Lockhart, Esq., a gentleman of first-rate literary talents. This accomplished

Page  IX THIIE AUTHOR* Ix lady died, after a tedious illness, in May, 1837; Miss Anne Scott died in June, 1833; and a short time before her death she was placed on the pension-list for ~200 per annum. In 1799, Scott was appointed to the office of Sheriffdepute of Selkirk, which secured him an annual salary of ~300. The duties of the office were very slight, and the income relieved him from any anxiety as to the chances either of his profession or his pen. In 1806 he was appointed one of the Clerks of Session, (on the retirement of Mr. Home), with the understanding that he should not reteive the salary (~800 per annum) until after that gentleaan's decease, which did not take place for more than five years afterwards. After Scott obtained this situation, he gave up his practice at the bar, and at once decided that literature should form the main business of his life. Scott was created a baronet on the 31st of ~March, 1820. The creation was the unsolicited act of his Majesty George IV. At the time the honour was conferred, the king obscrvei to the poet, " I shall always reflect with pleasure on Sir Walter Scott's having been the first creation of my reign." By desire of George IV., Sir Walter's portrait waS taken by Sir T. Lawrence, which was ultimately placed among the contemporaries of that monarch. Towards the close of 1810, the Royal Society of Edinburgh elected him as their President, and thus conferred an additional honour upon the baronet. During his visit to London, at the time of the coronation of George IV., Sir Walter attended upon Sir F. Chantrey for his bust in marble, which, when finished, he received from the artist's own hands. Two copies in marble were afterwards executed: one for the Duke of Wellington, and * one for the artist's own studio, but which is now in the possession of Sir R. Peel, M.P. Sir F. Chantrey disposed of about forty-five casts in plaster among the admirers of the poet. In the commercial excitement of 1825-26, it was discovered that the " Great Unknown" had managed to entangle himself with publishers and accommodation-bill manufacturers; and then also the secret was first betrayed that he had for many years been in partnership with James Ballantyne as a printer. In this season of distrust the hour of reckoning came on, and immediately after it was announced that the house of Constable and Co., of Edinburgh, had been declared bankrupt, it also became neces

Page  X X MEMOIR Of sary for Sir Walter and his partner to declare Cheir deficiency. As soon as this melancholy affair, however, was made known, it caused one universal burst of sympathy, and incredible offers of assistance were tendered, which were all declined, the baronet possessing the proud desire to liquidate the whole of his debts by his own genius and labour.* Sir Walter's liabilities were about ~117,000, and as he had no thought to rid himself of his burthen by declaring himself bankrupt, he unreservedly assigned the whole of his property to trustees for the benefit of his creditors, together with all his future labours. He then sat down, at fifty-five years of age, to the task of redeeming this enormous debt. In the first place he sold his furniture and house in Edinburgh, and retreated into a humble lodging in a second-rate street. During the vacations, when residing at Abbotsford, he almost entirely gave up seeing company, a resolution the more easily carried into effect, as Lady Scott was now dead. The proceeds of the very first work published after this unfortunate failure, which was the celebrated novel of Woodstock, amounted to upwards of ~8,000. This novel was published in 1826, but in 1827, two editions of Scott's great work, the Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, produced, for the benefit of the creditors, the almost incredible sum of ~18,000. These large sums, together with other moneys received for the continued productions of the novelist, enabled his trustees to distribute amhong the creditors six shillings in the pound on their whole claim, before Christmas, 1827; very nearly ~40,000 having been realised by the exertions of Scott in the brief space of two years. In fact before the close of 1830, the original amount of Sir Walter's debts was reduced to about ~54,000. In December, 1830, it was unanimously agreed: "That Sir Walter Scott be requested to accept of his furniture, plate, paintings, library, and curiosities of every description, as the best means the creditors have of expressing their very high sense of his most honourable conduct, and in grateful acknowledgment for the unparalleled and most * When the late Earl of Dudley heard of this circumstance, he exclaimed: " Scott ruined I the author of Waverley ruinedI Good God, let every man to whom he has given months of delight give him a sixpence, and he will rise tomorrow morning richer than a Rothschild."

Page  XI ~tE AUtr0R.. hceessful exertions he has made, and continues to make, for them." This munificent gift of his creditors was worth at least ~10,000, and it enabled. him (to use nearly his own words) to eat with his own spoons, and to study with his own books. In passing over this part of the author's life, it should be observed that at the time of his death, there was still remaining of his debts the sum of ~54,000, but the trustees had a balance in hand, and they obtained the large sum of ~30,000 on copyrights, and as Sir Walter's life was insured for ~22,000, his debts were finally settled. The lands of Abbotsford, however, were yet left with a mortgage of ~10,000, a debt contracted by Scott in 1825, the payment of which was not provided for by any of the preceding arrangements. In the winter of 1830, it became apparent to his friends that the mighty mind had lost something, and was daily losing something, of its wonted energy; his sagacious judgment, memory, and fancy were occasionally subject to eclipse. "I have lost (says Scott) the power of interesting the country, and ought, in justice to all parties, to retire while I have some credit." Before the close of the year he was again attacked with apoplexy, and a more severe system of regimen was prescribed. His kind and skilful physicians assured him that if he persisted in working his brain nothing could prevent his malady from recurring with redoubled severity.* In a few months after this attack, Scott submitted to the recommendation of his medical advisers, and agreed to spend the ensuing winter in a more genial climate. As soon as the poet's resolve was made known to government, it was intimated by Sir J. Graham, (then first lord of the Admiralty), that "it afforded his majesty and himself the sincerest satisfaction to comply with the hint, and that a vessel should be immediately prepared for the reception of Sir Walter." This matter greatly gratified Scott, and he exclaimed: "Things are yet in the hands of gentlemen!" In October, 1831, Scott left London for Portsmouth, previous to his embarkation. When he arrived at that port, he found that his vessel could not sail for a week; but in the interval he received deputations from several societies, * When the physicians told Scott he must refrain from writing, the poet observed: "As for bidding me not work, Molly might as well put the kettle on the fire and say, N'ow, don't b:ill"

Page  XII cii d ~[LBEMOIR 0r as well asfrom the visiters and others. The first lord of th&e Admiralty was present, to ascertain that everything had been properly prepared for the accommodation of Scott on board the frigate. In November, Sir Walter arrived at Malta, where he enjoyed the society of all the principal officers of the island. Orders were given by the governor that every attention should be paid to the poet, and that a house, a carriage with horses, &c., should be placed at Sir Walter's disposal; indeed every person. seemed anxious to do him honour. Scott, having visited most of the places of curiosity and amusement, set sail on December the 10th for Naples, where he arrived on the 17th. At this place, also, he was received by the English residents with every mark of respect, and they contributed in various ways to his comfort and amusement. When he was presented at court the king received him with marked attention, and insisted on his being seated, on account of his infirmity; and the bystanders observed that his majesty mentioned the pleasure he had received from reading the works of his visiter. Sir Walter went to Pompeii, where he seemed to view with interest the splendid mosaic representation of a combat of the Greeks and Persians, and remained some time to examine it in detail. When he visited the library and museum at Naples, the literati crowded round him, and showed him every respectful attention, and created him an honorary member of their learned societies. He quitted Naples in April, and proceeded directly for Rome, where every arrangement was made for his reception. He visited St. Peter's, and the most interesting spots and places within twenty-five miles of the city, and was entertained at several splendid establishments. During his stay at Rome, the use of villas, libraries, and museums was pressed upon him; and this enthusiasm was by no means confined to the higher orders of people. On the lCth of May Sir Walter left Rome, and on the following day crossed the Apennines, and dined on the top of the mountains. On the 19th he arrived at Venice, and remained there for a few days. He next went to Frankfort, and from thence he embarked on board the Rhine steam-boat. Coming down the Rhine he had another attack of apoplexy, combined with paralysis; he, however, reached London on the 13th of June, when he was inmoediately put to bed, and next day attended by Sir H. Halford and other physicians, who continued to visit him during

Page  XIII TM AUTHOL Xi!L stay in town. At length his medical attendants consented to his removal to Scotland; and on the 7th of July everything was prepared for his journey by the steam-boat. When the vessel arrived at Newhaven, Sir Walter, prostrate in his carriage, was slung on shore in apparent unconsciousness; but when he reached Abbotsford, "his dogs assembled about him, began to fawn upon him, and to lick his hands, and he alternately sobbed and smiled over them until sleep oppressed him.' For four or five days after his arrival he desired daily to be wheeled about the house and the garden, but on the 16th he remained in bed, and was quite feeble; on the following day he requested to be placed at his desk, and when the pen was put into his hand, he was unable to close his fingers upon it, and the pen dropped upon the paper. From this time he declined daily, when, on the morning of the 17th of September, he was discovered in the last extreme of feebleness; and except for a moment, he never afterwards gave any sign of consciousness. On the 21st, he breathed his last, in the presence of al his children, io be siaty-second year of his aa.

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Page  XV THE WORKS or SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. WE will now proceed to mention most of the writings of Sir Walter Scott; but, for their value and excellence, we refer the reader to the works themselves; contenting ourselves with giving a list of his principal works and the dates of their publication. 1796. William and Helen, &c. (from the German of Bilrger.) 1799. Go6ethe's tragedy of Gdetz von Berlichingen 1800. The House of Haspen, a tragedy. 1801. The Eve of St. John. 1802. The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. 1804. Sir Tristrem, a metrical romance. 1805. The Lay of the Last Minstrel. 1806. Ballads and Lyrical pieces, 2 vols. 1808. Marmion, or a Tale of Flodden Field. 1809. The Works of John Dryden, with Notes, and a Life of the Author. 1810. The Lady of the Lake. 1811. The Vision of Don IRoderick. 1812. Rokeby. The Bridal of Triermain. 1814. Waverley. 1815. The Lord of the Isles. Guy Mannering. The Field of Waterloo. 1816. Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk The Antiquary. The Tales of my Landlord, 1st series, containing The Black Dwarf and Old Mortality. 1817. Harold the Dauntless.,, Rob Roy. 1818. The Tales of my Landlord, 2nd series, contaiaing The Heart of Mid Lothian. An Account of the Scottish Regalia. The Provincial Antiquities of Scotland.,

Page  XVI xvi THE ORKS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.o 1819 The Tales of my Landlord, 3rd series, containing The Bride of Lammermoor and the Legend of Montrose. Ivanhoe. 1820. The Monastery. The Abbot. Kenilworth, 1821. The Pirate. 1822. The fortunes of NigeL Hallidon Hill. Macduff's Cross, a dramatic sketch. 1823. Peveril of the Peak.,, Quentin Durward.,, St. Ronan's Well. 1824. Redgauntlet. 1825. Tales of the Crusaders. 1826. WVoodstock. 1827. The Life of Bonaparte. The Chronicles of the Cannongate, 1st series, containing.The Two Drovers, The Highland Wi dow, and The Surgeon's Daughter., Tales of a Grandfather, 1st series. 1828. The Chronicles of the Cannongate, 2nd series, containing The Fair Maid of Perth., Tales of a Grandfather, 2nd seriesa 1829. Ann of Geirstein. The History of Scotland, vol 1, Tales of a Grandfather, 3rd series. 1830. Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft,, Tales of a Grandfather, 4th series. History of Scotland vol. 2. Essays on Ballad Poetry. 1831. The Tales of my Landlord, 4th series, containing Count Robert of Paris and Castle Dangeroua


Page  2 THE RIGHT HOONOURABLB CVHARLES, EARL OF DALKE IT H, THIS POEM IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. ADVERTISEMENT. TiE Poem, now offered to the Public, is intended to 1l11strate the customs and manners, which anciently prevailed on the Borders of England and Scotland. The inhabitants, living in a state partly pastoral. and partly warlike, and combining habits of constant depredation with the influence of a rude spirit of chivalry, were often engaged in scenes, highly susceptible of poetical ornament. As the description of scenery and manners was more the object of the Author, than a combined and regular narrative, the plan of the ancient metrical romance was adopted, which allows greater latitude, in this respect, than would be consistent with the dignity of a regular poem. The same model offered other facilities, as it permits an occasional alteration of measure, which, in some degree, authorizes the changes of rythih in the text. The machinery also, adopted from popular belief, would have seemed puerile in a Poem, which did not partake of the rudeness of the old Ballad, or Metrical Romance. For these reasons, the Poem was put into the mouth of an ancient Minstrel, the last of the race. who, as he is supposed to have survived the Revolution, might have caught somewhat of the refinement of modern poetry, without losing the simplicity of his original model. The date of the tale itself is about the middle of the sixteenth century, when most of the personages actually flourished. The time occupied by the action is three nights and three days.

Page  3 INTRODUCTION. THE way was long. the wind was cold The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have known a better day; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy The last of all the bards was her Who sung of Border chivalry;. For, wella-day! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were. dead,; And he, neglected and oppressed,. Wished to be with them, and at rest, No more, on prancing palfrey borne, He carolled, light as lark at morn; No longer courted and caressed, High placed in hall, a welcome guest, He poured, to lord and lady gay, The unpremeditated lay: Old times were changed, old manners goa A stranger filled the Stuarts' throne;, The bigots of the iron time Had called his harmless art a crime. A wandering harper, scorned and poor, He begged his bread from door to door; And tuned, to. please a peasant's ear, The harp, a King had loved to hear. He passed where Newark's stately toweor Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower: The Minstrel gazed with wishful eyeNo humbler resting place was nigh. With hesitating step, at last, The embattled portal-arch he passed,, Whose ponderous grate, and massy bar' Had oft rolled back the tide of war,

Page  4 4 INTRODUCTION. But never closed the iron door Against the desolate and poor. The Duchess marked his weary paee, His timid mien, and reverend face, And bade her page the menials tell, That they should tend the old man well: For she had known adversity, Though born in such a high degree; In pride of power, in beauty's bloom, Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb. When kindness had his wants supplied, And the old man was gratified, Began to rise his minstrel pride: And he began to talk anon, Of good Earl Francis, dead and gone, And of Earl Walter, rest him Godl A braver ne'er to battle rode: And how full many a tale he knew, Of the old warriors of Buccleuch; And, would the noble Duchess deign To listen to an old man's strain, Though stiff his hand, his voice though weak, He thought even yet, the sooth to speak, That, if she loved the harp to hear, He could make music to her ear. The humble boon was soon obtained; The Aged Minstrel audience gained. But, when he reached the room of state, Where she, with all her ladies, sate, Perchance he wished his boon denied: For, when to tune his harp he tried, His trembling hand had lost the eas4 Which marks security to please; And scenes, long past, of joy and pain, Came wildering o'er his aged brainHe tried to tune his harp in vain. The pitying Duchess praised its chime, And gave him heart, and gave him timo, Till every string's according glee Was blended into harmony. And then, he said, he would full fain He could recall an ancient strain, He never thought to sing again.

Page  5 IMTODUCTIONo It was not framed for village churls, But for high dames and mighty earls; He had played it to King Charles the Good, When he kept court at Holyrood; And much he wished, yet feared, to try The long forgotten melody. Amid the strings his fingers strayed, And an uncertain warbling made, And oft he shook his hoary head: But when he caught the measure wild, The old man raised his face, and smiled; And lightened up his faded eye, With all a poet's ecstacyl In Varying cadence, soft or strong, He swept the sounding chords alongs The present scene, the future lot, His toils, his wants, were all forgot: Cold diffidence, and age's frost, In the full tide of song were lost; Each blank, in faithless memory void, The poet's glowing thought supplied; And, while his harp responsive rung'Twig thus the LATi8T MiTam. sung

Page  6 LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. L THE feast was over in Branksome tower, And the Ladye had gone to her secret bower; Her bower, that was guarded by word and by spell, Deadly to hear, and deadly to tellJesu Maria, shield us well! No living wight, save the Ladye alone, Had dared to cross the threshold stone. IL The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all, Knight, and page, and household squires Loitered through the lofty hall, Or crowded round the ample fire. The stag-hounds, weary with the chase, Lay stretched upon the rushy floor, And urged, in dreams, the fobrest race, From Teviot-stone to Eskdale-moor. IIL Nine-and-twenty knights of ftme Hung their shields in Branksome Hall; Nine-and-twenty squires of name Brought them their steeds from bower to stall Nine-and-twenty yeomen tall Waited, duteous, on them all: They were all knights of mettle true, Kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch,'V. Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With belted sword, and spur on heel;

Page  7 CAMTO, LAY OF THE LAST MNSTRE. They quitted not their harness bright, Neither by day, nor yet by night: They lay down to rest With corslet laced, Pillowed on buckler cold and hard; They carved at the meal With gloves of steel, [barred. And they drank the red wine through the helme Ten squires, ten yeomen, mail-clad men, Waited the beck of the warders ten; Thirty steeds, both fleet and wight, Stood saddled in stable day and night, Barbed with frontlet of steel, I trow, And with Jedwood-axe at saddle-bow; A hundred more fed free in stall; — Such was the custom of Branksome Hall VL Why do these steeds stand ready dight? Why watch these warriors, armed, by night? They watch, to hear the blood-hound baying; They watch, to hear the war-horn braying; To see St. George's red cross streaming, To see the midnight beacon gleaming; They watch, against Southern force and gunle, Lest Scroop, or Howard, or Percy's powers, Threaten Branksome's lordly towers, From Warkworth, or Naworth, or merry Carlisle. VIL Such is the custom of Branksome Hall Many a valiant knight is here; But he, the Chieftain of them all, His sword hangs rusting on the wall, Beside his broken spear. Bards long shall tell, How lord Walter fell! When startled burghers fled, afar, The furies of the Border war; When the streets of high Dunedin Saw lances gleam, and falchions redden, And heard the slogan's deadly yellThen the Chief of Branksome fell,

Page  8 H | ULAY OF TnY e CaN" Can piety the discord heal, Or stanch the death-feud's enmity? Can Christian lore, can patriot zeal, Can love of blessed charity? No! vainly to each holy shrine, In mutual pilgrimage, they drew; Implored, in vain, the grace divine For chiefs, their own red falchions slews While Cessford owns the rule of Car, While Ettrick boasts the line of Scott, The slaughtered chiefs, the mortal jar, The havoc of the feudal war, Shall never, never be forgotl IXt In sorrow, o'er lord Walter's bier The warlike. foresters had benti And many a flower, and many a tear, Old Teviot's maids and matrons lent; But o'er her warrior's bloody bier The Ladye dropped nor flower nor tear! Vengeance, deep-brooding o'er the slain, Had locked the source of softer woe; And burning pride, and high disdain, Forbade the rising tear to flow; Until, amid his sorrowing clan, Her son lisped from the nurse's knee — And, if I live to be a man, "My father's death revenged shall beif Then fast the mother's tears did seek To dew the infant's kindling cheek. X, All loose her negligent attire, All loose her golden hair, Hung Margaret o'er her slaughtered sire, And wept in wild despair. But not alone the bitter tear Had filial grief supplied; For hopeless love, and anxious feag Had lent their mingled tide: Nor in her mother's altered eye 1,

Page  9 CANTO L LAST MINSTIL. 9 Dared she to look for sympathy. Her lover,'gainst her father's clan, With Car in arms had stood, When Mathouse-burn to Melrose ran, All purple with their blood. And well she knew, her mother dread, Before lord Cranstoun she should wed, Would see her on her dying bed. XL. Of noble race the Ladye came; Her father was a clerk of fame, Of Bethune's line of Picardie: He learned the art, that none may name, In Padua, far beyond the sea. Men said, he changed his mortal frame By feat of magic mystery; For when, in studious mood, he paced St Andrew's cloistered hall, His form no darkening shadow traced Upon the sunny wall! AIL And of his skill, as bards avow, He taught that Ladye fair, Till to her bidding she could bow The viewless forms of air. And now she sits in secret bower, In old Lord David's western tower, And listens to a heavy sound, That moans the mossy turrets round. Is it the roar of Teviot's tide, That chafes against the scaur's red side? Is it the wind that swings the oaks? Is it the echo from the rocks? What may it be, the heavy sound, That moans old Branksome's turrets round? AXL At the sullen, moaning sound, T1 ban-dngs bay and howl; Ana, from the turrets round, Loud whoops the startled owl.

Page  10 10 LAY OF THR CANTO L In the hall, both squire and knight Swore that a storm was near, And looked forth to view the night; But the night was still and clearl XIV. From the sound of Teviot's tide, Chafing with the mountain's side, From the groan of the wind-swung oak, From the sullen echo of the rock, From the voice of the coming storm, The Ladye knew it well! It was the Spirit of the Flood that spoke, And he called on the Spirit of the Fell. XV. RIVER SPIRIT. a Sleepest thou, brother?" MOUNTAIN SPIRIT. - " Brother, nayOn my hills the moon-beams play. From Craik-cross to Skelfhill-pen, By every rill, in every glen, Merry elves their morrice pacing, To aerial minstrelsy, Emerald rings on brown heath tracing, Trip it deft and merrily. Up, and mark their nimble feett Up, and.list their music sweetl" XVL RIVER SPIRIT. "Tears of an imprisoned maiden Mix with my polluted stream; Margaret of Branksome, sorrow-laden, Mourns beneath the moon's pale beam. Tell me, thou, who viewest the stars, When shall cease these feudal jars? What shall be the maiden's fate? Who shall be the maiden's mate?" XVIL MoutTrm SPmIR.'Arthur's slow wain his course doth roll, In utter darkness, round the pole;

Page  11 :ANTO 1 LXST MDLSTR L,.l IThe'orthern Bear lowers black and grim; Orion's studded belt is dim; Twinkling faint, and distant far, Shimmers through mist each planet star; fl1 may I read their high decree: ]But no kind influence deign they shower On Teviot's tide, and Branksome's tower. Till pride be 4uelled, and love be free." XVIIL The unearthly voices ceased, And the heavy sound was still; It died on the river's breast, It died on the side of the hill.But round Lord David's tower The sound still floated near; For it rung in the Ladye's bower, And it rung in the Ladye's ear. She raised her stately head, And her heart throbbed high with pride-... "Your mountains shall bend, And your streams ascend, Ere Margaret be our foeman's bridel' XIX The LTadye sought the lofty hall, Where many a bold retainer lay, And, with jocund din, among them all, Her son pursued his infant play. A fancied moss-trooper, the boy The truncheon of a spear bestrode, And round the hall, right merrily, In mimic foray rode. Even bearded knights, in arms grown old, Share in his frolic gambols bore, Albeit their hearts, of rugged mould, Were stubborn as the steel they wore. For the gray warriors prophesied, How the brave boy, in future war, Should tame the Unicorn's pride, Exalt the Crescents and the Star. XL The Ladye forgot her purpose high. One moment, and no more; -i I1 L = eJ -.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Page  12 12 Lat or TAe CATo L One moment gazed with a mother's eye, As she paused at the arched door: Then, from amid the armed train, She called to her William of Deloraine. XXL A stark moss-trooping Scott was he, As e'er couched border lance by knee: Through Solway sands, through Tarras moss, Blindfold, he knew the paths to cross; By wily turns, by desperate bounds, Hyad baffled Percy's best blood-hounds; In Eske, or Liddel, fords were none, But he would ride them, one by one; Alike to him was time or tide, December's snow, or July's pride; Alike to him was tide or time, Moonless midnight, or matin prime: Steady of heart, and stout of hand, As ever drove prey from Cumberland; Five times outlawed had he been, By England's king and Scotland's queen. XXIL'Sir William of Deloraine, good at need Mount thee on the wightest steed; Spare not to spur, nor stint to ride, Until thou come to fair Tweedside; And in Melrose's holy pile Seek thou the Monk of St Mary's aisleI Greet the father well from me; Say, that the fated hour is come, And to-night he shall watch with thee, To win the treasure of the tomb: lror this will be St. Michael's night, And, though stars be dim, the moon is brights And the Cross, of bloody red, Will point to the grave of the mighty dead, XXII', "What he gives thee, see thou keep; Stay not thou for food or sleep: Be it scroll, or be it book, unto it, knight,, thou must not look;

Page  13 CIUTO L LAST MITR. if thou readest, thou art lorn! Better hadst thou ne'er been born.' xx:V. "0 swiftly ean speed my dapple-gray steed, Which drinks of the Teviot clear: Ere break of day," the warrior'gan say, "Again will I be. here: And safer by none may thy errand be don, Than, noble dame, by me; Letter nor line know I never a one, Wer't my neck-verse at Hairibee." XXV. Soon in his saddle sate he fast, And soon the steep descent he past, Soon crossed the sounding barbican, And soon the Teviot side he won. Eastward the wooded path he rode; Green hazels o'er his basnet nod: He passed the Peel of Goldiland, And crossed old Borthwick's roaring strand; Dimly he viewed the Moat-hill's mound, Where Druid shades still flitted round; In Hawick twinkled many a light; Behind him soon they set in night; And soon he spurred his courser keen Beneath the tower of HIazeldean. XxVI, The clattering hoofs the watchmen markr — " Stand, ho! thou courier of the dark." "For Branksome, ho!" the knight rejoined, And left the friendly tower behind. He turned him now from Teviotside, And, guided by the tinkling rill, Northward the dark ascent did ride, And gained the moor at Horseliehill! Broad on the left before him lay, J or many a mile, the Roman way. XXVIL A moment now he slacked his speed, A moment breathed his panting steed; _ _ __ _

Page  14 .14 LAY OF TUB COAN 1. Drew saddle-girth and corslet-band, And loosened in the sheatk his brand. On Minto-crags the moon-beams glint, Where Barnhill hewed his bed of flint; Who flung his outlawed limbs to rest, Where falcons hang their giddy nest,'Mid cliffs, from whence his eagle eye For many a league his prey could spy; Cliffs, doubling, on their echoes borne, The terrors of the robber's horn; Cliffs, which, for many a later year, The warbling Dolic reed shall hear, When some sad swain shall teach the grove Ambition is no cure for love. XXVIII. Unchallenged, thence past Deloraine To ancient Riddelrs fair domain, Where Aill, from. mountains freed, Down from the lakes did raving come; Each wave was crested withtawny foam, Like the mane of a. chestnut steed. In vain! no torrent, deep or broad, Might bar the bold moss-trooper's road. XXLX At the first plunge the horse sunk low, And the water broke o'er the saddle-bow; Above the foaming tide, I ween, Scarce half the charger's neck was seen; For he was barbed from counter to. tail, And the rider was armed complete in mail, Never heavier man and horse Stemmed a midnight torrent's force. The warrior's very plume,. [ say, I as daggled by the dashing spray; Yet, through good heart, and our Ladye's grace At length he gained the landing place. Now Bowden Moor the march-man won, And sternty shook his plumed head,

Page  15 CANTO I. LAST MINSTREL. 5 As glanced his eye o'er Halidon; For on his soul the slaughter red Of that unhallowed morn arose, When first the Scott and Car were foes; When royal James beheld the fray, Prize to thevictor of the day; When Home and Douglas, in the van, Bore down Bucc]euch's retiring clan, Till gallant Cessford's heart-blood dear Reeked on dark Elliot's Border spear. XXXL In bitter mood he spurred fast, And soon the hated heath was past; And far beneath, in lustre wan, Old Melros' rose, and fair Tweed ran: Like some tall rock, with lichens gray, Seemed, dimly huge, the dark Abbaye. When Hawick he passed, had curfew rung, Now midnight lauds were in Melrose sung The sound upon the fitful gale, In solemn wise did rise and fail, Like that wild harp, whose magic tone Is wakened by the winds alone. But when Melrose he reached,'twas silence all; He meetly stabled his steed in stall And sought the convent's lonely wall. HERE paused the harp; and with its swell The Master's fire and courage fell: Dejectedly, and low, he bowed, And, gazing timid on the crowd, He seemed to seek, in every eye, If they approved his minstrelsy; And, diffident of present praise, Somewhat he spoke of former days, And how old age, and wandering long,. Had done his hand and harp some wrong The Duchess, and her daughters fair. And. every gentle ladye -there, Each after each, in due degree,

Page  16 16 LAY OF THE CANTO XU. Gave praises to his melody; His hand was true, his voice was clear, And much they longed the rest to hear Encouraged thus, the Aged Man, After meet rest, again began. CANTO SECOND. L IP thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray. When the brokenarches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die; When distant Tweed is heard to rave, And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, Then go-but go alone the whileThen view St. David's ruined pile: And, home returning, soothly swear Was never scene so sad and fairl II. Short halt did Deloraine make there; JLittle recked he of the scene so fair. With dagger's hilt, on the wicket strong, He struck full loud, and struck full long. The porter hurried to the gate"Who knocks so loud, and knocks so late?" "From Branksome I," the warrior cried; And strait the wicket opened wide: For Branksome's chiefs had in battle stood, To fence the rights of fair Melrose; And lands and livings, many a rood, Had gifted the shrine for their souls' repose.

Page  17 OANTO II. LAST MINSTREL. 1, Bold Deloraine his errand said; The porter bent his humble head; With torch in hand, and feet unshod, And noiseless step, the path he trod; The arched cloisters, far and wide, Rang to the warrior's clanking stride; Till, stooping low his lofty crest, He entered the cell of the ancient priest, And lifted his barred aventayle, To hail the Monk of St. Mary's aisle. IV. " The Ladye of Branksome greets thee by me; Says that the fated houris come, And that to-night I shall watch with thee, To win the treasure of the tomb." From sackcloth couch the Monk arose, With toil his stiffened limbs he reared; A hundred years had flung their snows On his thin locks and floating beard. V. And strangely on the Knight looked he, And his blue eyes gleamed wild and wide;-. "And. dar'st thou, warrior! seek to see What heaven and hell alike would hide? My breast, in belt of iron pent, With shirt of hair and scourge of thorn; For threescore years, in penance spent, My knees those flinty stones have worn; Yet all too little to atone For knowing what should ne'er be known. Would'st thou thy every future year In ceaseless prayer and penance drie, Yet wait thy latter end with fearThen, daring warrior, follow me." VL "Penance, father, will I none; Prayer know I hardly one;

Page  18 .18 LAY OF THE CANTO 1. For mass or prayer can I rarely tarry, Save to patter an Ave Mary, When I ride on a Border foray: Other prayer can I none; So speed me my errand, and let me begone.": VIL Again on the Knight looked the Chqurchman old, And again he sighed heavily; For he had himself been a warrior bold, And fought in Spain and Italy. And he thought on the days that were. long since'?by, [high:When his limbs were strong, and his courage was Now, slow and faint, he led the way, Where, cloistered round, the garden lay; The pillared arches were over their-head, And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead, VIIL Spreading herbs, and flowerets bright, Glistened with the dew of night; Nor herb, nor floweret, glistened there, But was carved in the cloister-arches as fair. The Monk gazed long on the lovely moon, Then into the night he looked forth; And red and bright the streamers light Were dancing in the glowing north. So had he seen, in fair Castile, The youth in glittering squadrons start; Suddenly the flying jennet wheel,, And hurl the unexpected dart. IIe knew, by the streamers that shot so bright, That spirits were riding the northern light. IX. By a steel-clenched postern door, They entered now the chancel tall; The darkened roof rose high aloof On pillars, lofty, and light, and small; The key-stone, that locked each ribbed aisle, Was a fleur-de-lys, or a quatre-feuille; The corbells were carved grotesque and grim; -And the pillars, with clustered shafts so trim,

Page  19 LAST MlN7TREL. 19 With base and with capital flourished around, Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had bound. Full many a sCutchieon and banner, riven, Shook to the cold: night-wind of heaven,! Around the screened altar's pale; And there the dying lamps did burni Before thy low and lonely urn, o gallant Chief of Otterburne, And thine, dark Knight of Liddesdalel 0 fading honours of the deadl O high ambition, lowly laidl XIL n,II The moon on the east oriel shone, Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined; Thou wouldst have thought some fairy's hand,'Twixtpoplars straight, the osier wand, In many a freakish knot, had twined; Then franed a spell, when the work was done, And changed the willow-wreaths to stone. The silver light, so pale and faint, Showed many a prophet, and many a saint, Whose image on the glass was dyed; Full in the midst, his Cross of Red Triumphant Michael brandished, And trampled the Apostate's pride. The moon-beam kissed the holy pane, And throw on the pavement a bloody stain. XIL They sate them down on a marble stone, A Scottish monarch slept below; Thus spoke the Monk in solemn tone: — "I was not always a' man of woe; For Paynim countries I have trod; And fought beneath the Cross of God; Now, strange to my eyes thine arms ajlpear, And their iron clang sounds strange to my eat-I

Page  20 Bi0 2iATY OF T~RYE CANTO O2, " In these far climes, it was my lot To meet the wondrous Michael Scott; A wizard of such dreaded fame, That when, in Salamanea's cave, Him listed his magic wand to wave, The bells would ring in Notre Damel Some of his skill he taught to me; And, Warrior, I could say to thee The words, that cleft Eildon hills in three, And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stonu: But to speak them were a deadly sin; And for having but thought them my heart withim, A treble penance must be done, XIV. "When Michael lay on his dying bed, His conscience was awakened; He bethought him of his sinful deed, And he gave me a sign to come with speeds I was in Spain when the morning rose, But I stood by his bed ere evening close. The words may not again be said, That he spoke to me, on death-bed laid; They would rend this Abbaye's massy nave, And pile it in heaps above his grave. XV. "I swore to bury his Mighty Book, That never mortal might therein look; And never to tell where it was hid, Save at his chief of Branksome's need; And when that need was past and o'er, Again the volume to restore. I buried him on St Miehael's night, When the bell tolled one and the moon was bright; And I dug his chamber among the dead, When the floor of the chancel was stained red, That his patron's Cross might over him wave,. And scare the fiends from the Wizard's grave. XVL It was a night of woe and dread, Wthen Michael in the tomb I laid;

Page  21 rA~g(an, T SAST MINSKTiEL Strange sounds along the ehancel past, i The banners waved without a blast,"- - Still spoke the Monk, when the bell tolled oneI tell you, that a braver man Than William of Deloraine, good at need, Against a foe ne'er spurred a steed; Yet somewhat was he chilled with dread, And his hair did brstle upon his head. XVII. "4Lo, Warriorl now, the Cross of Red Points to the grave of the mighty dead; Within it burns a wondrous light, To chase the spirits that love the night: That lamp shall burn unquenchably, Until the eternal doomshall be." Slow moved the Monk to the.broad flag-stone Which the bloody Cross was traced upon: He pointed to a.secret nook;' An iron bar the warrior took; And the Monk made a sign with his withered hand, The grave's huge portal to expand. XVI' With beating heart to the task he went; His sinewy frame o'er the grave-stone bent;'With bar of iron heaved amain, rTill the toil-drops fell from his brows, like rain, It was by dint of passing strength, That he moved the massy stone at length I would you had been.there, to see How the light broke forth so gloriously, J Streamed upward to the chancel roof. And through the galleries far aloof! No earthly flame blazed e'er so bright: It shone like heaven'sown blessed light And, issuing from the tomb, showed the Monk's cowl, and visage:pale, Danced on the dark-brow'd Warrioars mail, And kissed his waving plume. Before their eyes the Wizard lay, As if he had not been dead a day.

Page  22 LAY OF THEC ~A'TO rI; His hary beard in silver rolled, He seemed some seventy winters old; A palmer's amice wrapped him round, With a wrought Spanish baldric bound, Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea: His left hand held his Book of Might; A silver cross was in his right; The lamp was placed beside his knee: High and majestic was his look, At which the fellest fiends had shook, And all unruffled was his face:They trusted his soul had gotten grace. xx. Often had William of Deloraine Rode through the battle's bloody plain,, And trampled down the warriors slain, And neither known remorse or awe; Yet now remorse and awe he, own'd; HIls breath came thick, his head swam roun d When this strange scene of death he saw. Bewildered and unnerved he stood, And the priest prayed fervently, and loud: With eyes averted prayed he; He might not endure the sight to see, Of the man he had loved so brotherly. xxL And when the Priest his death-prayer had pr aye4 Thus unto Deloraine he said:" Now speed thee what thou hast to do, Or, Warrior, we may dearly rue; For those, thou mayest not look upon, Are gathering fast round the yawning stone!" Then Deloraine, in terror, took ]From the cold hand the Mighty Book, With iron clasped, and with iron bound: Hle thought, as he took it, the dead man frownuel; But-the glare of the sepulchral light, Perchance, had dazzled the warrior's sight. XXIL When the huge stone sunk o'er the tomb, The night returned, in double gloom;

Page  23 NTO II, LAST MINSTREL, 23 For the moon had gone down and the star: were few; And, as the Knight and Priest withdrew, With wavering steps and dizzy brain, They hardly might the postern gain.'Tis said, as through the aisles they passed, They heard strange noises on the blast; And through the cloister-galleries small, Which at mid-height thread the chancel wall, Loud sobs, and laughter louder, ran, And voices unlike the voice of man; As if the fiends kept holiday, Because these spells were brought to day. I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as'twas said to me. xIIL " Now, hie thee hence," the Father said, " And, when we are on death-bed laid, 0 may our dear Ladye, and sweet St. John, Forgive our souls for the deed we have done!" The monk returned him to his cell, And many a prayer and penance sped; When the convent met at the noontide bell — The Monk of St Mary's aisle was dead! Before the cross was the body laid, With hands clasped fast, as if still he prayed. XXIV. The Knight breathed free in the morning wind, And strove his hardihood to find: He was glad when he passed the tombstones gray, Which girdle round the fair Abbaye; For the mystic Book, to his bosom prest, Felt like a load upon his breast; And his joints, with nerves of iron twined, Shook, like the aspen leaves in wind. Fu11 fain was he when the dawn of day Began to brighten Cheviot gray; IHe joyed to see the cheerful light, And he said Ave Mary, as well as he might. XXV. The sun had brightened Cheviot gray, The sun had brightened the Carter's side:

Page  24 LAY OF TH CA'NrTO IL And soon beneath the rising day Smiled ]Branksome towers and Teviot's tide. The wild birds told their warbling tale, And wakened every flower that blows; And peeped forth the violet pale, And spread her breast the mountain roses And lovelier than the rose so red, Yet paler than the violet pale, She early left her sleepless bed, The fairest maid of Teviotdale. XXVL Why does fair Margaret so early awake, And don her kirtle so hastily; And the silken knots, which in hurry she would make, Why tremble her slender fingers to tie? Why does she stop, and look often around, As she glides down the secret stair? And why does she pat the shaggy blood-houni, As he rouses him up from his lair; And, though she passes the postern alone, Why is not the watchman's bugle blown? XXVIL The ladye steps in doubt and dread, Lest her watchful mother hear her tread; The ladyecaresses the rough blood-hound, Lest his voice should waken the castle round; The watchman's bugle is not blown, For he was her foster-father's son; And she glides through the greenwood at dawn of light, To meet Baron Henry, her own true knight. XXVIIL The Knight and Ladye fair are met, And under the hawthorn's boughs are set. A fairer pair were never seen Tco meet beneath the hawthorn green. He was stately, and young, and tall; Dreaded in battle, and loved in hall: And she,. when love, scarce told, scarce hid, Lent to her cheek a livelier red:

Page  25 CANTO n1. LAST MINSTREL. 25 When the half sigh her swelling breast Against the silken rib and pressed; When her blue eyes their secret told, Though shaded by her locks of gold-' Where would you find the peerless fair, With Margaret of Branksome might comparel And now, fair dames, methinks I see You listen to my minstrelsy; Your waving locks ye backward throw, And sidelong bend your necks of snow; — Ye ween'to hear a melting tale, Of two true lovers in a dale; And how the Knight, with tender fire, To paint his faithful passion strove; Swore, he might at her feet expire, But never, never cease to love; And how she blushed, and how she sighed, And, half consenting, half denied, And said that she would die a maid:Yet, might the bloody feud be stayed, Henry of Cranstoun, and only he, Margaret of Branksome's choice should be XXX. Alas! fair dames, your hopes are vain! My harp has lost the enchanting strain; Its lightness would my age reprove: My hairs are gray, my limbs are old, My heart is dead, my veins are cold: — I may not, must not, sing of love. XXXL Beneath an oak, mossed o'er by eld, The Baron's Dwarf his courser held, And held his crested helm and spear: That Dwarf was scarce an'earthly man, If the tales were true, that of him ran Through all the Border, far and near.'Twas said, when the Baron a-hunting rode Through Reedsdale's glens, but rarely trod, He heard a voice cry, "Lost! lost! lostl" And, like tennis-ball by raque; tossed,

Page  26 2LAY OF Tna CANTO I A leap, of thirty feet and three, Made from the gorse this elfin shape, ]Distorted like some dwarfish ape, And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's kne. Lord Cranstoun was some whit dismllyed;'Tis said that five good miles he rade, To rid him of his company; But where he rode one mile, the Dwairf ran four, And the Dwarf was first at the castle door. XXXIL Use lessens marvel, it is said. This elvish Dwarf with the Baron sta:d; Little he ate, and less he spoke, Nor mingled with the menial flock; And oft apart his arms he tossed, And often muttered, " Lost! lost! lost!" He was waspish, arch, and litherlie, But well Lord Cranstoun served he: And he of his service was full fain; For once he had been ta'en or slain, An' it had not been his ministry. All, between Home and Hermitage, Talked of Lord Cranstoun's Goblin Page. XXXIIL For the Baron went on pilgrimage, And took with him this elvish Page, To Mary's chapel of the Lowes: For there, beside Our Ladye's lake, An offering he had sworn to make, And he would pay his vows. But the Ladye of Branksome gathered a band Of the best that would ride at her command; The trysting place was Newark Lee. Wat of Harden came thither amain, And thither came John of'Thirlestane, And thither came William of Deloraine; They were three hundred spears and three. Through Douglas-burn, up Yarrow stream, Their horses prance their lances gleam, They came to St Mary's lake ere day; But the chapel was void, and the Baron away,

Page  27 CAo1; I. LAST MINSTREL. They burned the chapel for very rage, And cursed Lord Cranstoun's Goblin Pa>ge XXXTV. And now, in Branksome's good green wood, As under the aged oak he stood, The Baron's courser pricks his ears, As if a distant noise he hears. The Dwarf waves his long lean arm on high, And signs to the lovers to part and fly; No time was then to vow or sigh. Fair Margaret, through the hazel grove, Flew like the startled cushat-dove: The Dwarf the stirrup held and rein; Vaulted the knight on his steed amain, And, pondering deep that morning's scen% Rode eastward through the hawthornsgreen. WHInE thus he poured the lengthened tale The Minstrel's voice began to fail: Full slyly smiled the observant page, And gave the withered hand of age A goblet, crowned with mighty wine, The blood of Velez' scorched vine. He raised the silver cup on high, And, while the big drop filled his eye, Prayed God to bless the Duchess long~ And all who cheered a son of song. The attending maidens smiled to see How long, how deep, how zealously, The precious juice the minstrel quaffed And he, emboldened by the draught, Looked gaily back to them, and laugheld The cordial nectar of the bowl Swelled his old veins, and cheered his sao;a A lighter. livelier prelude ran, er. thus his tale again began.

Page  28 LAY OF TH (CAN'I'O 1iI CANTO THIRD. A.ND said I that my limbs were old, And said I that my blood was cold, And that my kindly fire was fled, And my poor withered heart was dead, And that I might not sing of love?Hlow could I to the dearest theme Tthat ever warmed a minstrel's dream, So foul, so false, a recreant prove! How could I name love's very name, Nor wake my harp to notes of flamel IL In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed} In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above; For love is heaven, and heaven is love. IIL So thought Lord Cranstoun -as I ween, While, pondering deep the tender scene, Ile rode through Branksome's hawthornsgreeot But the Page shouted wild and shrillAnd scarce his helmet could he don, When downward from the:shady hill A stately knight came pricking on. That warrior's steed, so dapple-gray, Was dark with sweat, and splashed with clay; His armour red with many a stain: Ile seemed in such a weary plight, As if he had ridden the live-long night; For it was William of D)eloraine. IV. BUt no whit weary did he seem, When, dancing in the sunny beam,

Page  29 CANTO BI: LAST MINSTREL. He marked the crane on the Baron's crest; For his ready spear was in his rest. Few were the words, and stern and high, That marked the foemen's feudal hate; For question fierce, and proud reply, Gave signal soon of dire debate. Their very coursers seemed to know That each was other's mortal foe; And snorted fire, when wheeled around, To give each knight his vantage ground. V. In rapid round the Baron bent; He sighed a sigh, and prayed a prayer: The prayer was to his patron saint, The sigh was to his ladye fair. Stout Deloraine nor sighed nor prayed, Nor saint, nor ladye, called to aid; But he stooped his head, and couched his spear And spurred his steed to full career The meeting of these champions proud seemed like the bursting thunder-cloud. VL Stern was the dint the Borderer lent! The stately Baron backwards bent; 3Bent backwards to his horse's tail, And his plumes went scattering on the gales The tough ash spear, so stout and true, Into a thousand finders flow. But Cranstoun's lance of more avail, Pierced through, like silk, the Borderer's mail) Through shield, and jack, and acton,.past, Deep in his bosom broke at last. - Still sate the warrior saddle-fast,. Till, stumbling in the mortal shock, Down went the steed, the girthing brokre, Hurled on a heap lay man and horse. The Baron onward passed his course; Nor knew-so giddy rolled his brainMis foe lay stretched upon the plain. AL But when he reined his courser round, And saw his foeman on the ground

Page  30 Le sensele OF as the blooAy clay, Lie senseless as the bloody- clay, He bade his page to staunch the wound, And there beside the warrior stay, And tend him in his doubtful state, And lead him to Branksome castle-gateL His noble mind was inly moved For the kinsman of the maid he loved. "This shalt thou do without delay; No longer here myselfmay stay: Unless the swifter I speed away, Short shrift will be at my dying day." VIj, Away in speed Lord Cranstoun rode; The Goblin Page behind abode. His lord's command he ne'er withstood, Though small his pleasure to do good. As the corslet off he took, The Dwarf espied the Mighty Book! Much he marvelled, a knight of pride Like a book-bosomed priest should ride: He thought not to search or staunch the wouant Until the secret he had found. The iron band, the iron clasp, Resisted long the elfin grasp; For when the first he had undone, It closed as he the next begun. Those iron clasps, that iron band, Would not yield to unchristened hand, Till he smeared the cover o'er With the Borderer's curdled gore; A moment then the volume spread, And one short spell therein he read. It had much of glamour might, Could make a ladye seem a knight; The cobwebs on a dungeon wall Seem tapestry in lordly hall; A nut-shell seem a gilded barge, A sheeling* seem a palace large, And youth seem age, and age seem youth — All was delusion, nought was truth. A Shepherd's hut,

Page  31 XI:ro t. LAST MINSTRaX. He had not read another spell, When on his cheek a buffet fell, So fierce, it stretched him on the plain, Beside the wounded Deloraine. From the ground he rose dismayed, And shook his huge and matted headOne word he muttered, and no more"Man of age, thou smitest sore!" No more the Elfin Page durst try Into the wondrous Book to pry; The clasps, though smeared with Christian gore, Shut faster than they were before. He hid it underneath his cloak.Now, if you ask who gave the stroke, I cannot tell, so mot I thrive; It was not given by man alive. XI. Unwillingly himself he addressed, To do his master's high behest: He lifted up the living corse, And laid it on the weary horse; He led him into Branksome hall, Before the beards of the warders all; And each did after swear and say, There only passed a wain of hay. He took him to Lord David's tower, Even to the Ladye's secret bower;. And, but that stronger spells were spread, And the door might not be opened, He had laid him on her very bed. Whate'er he did of gramarye, Was always done maliciously; He flung the warrior on the ground, And the blood welled freshly from the woimb XIL As he repassed the outer court, He spied the fair young child. at sport: He thought to train hiln to the wood; For, at a word, be it understood, lie was always for ill, and never for good,

Page  32 LAY OF THE NT. tNTO Il, Seemed to the boy some comrade gay Led him forth to the woods to play; On the draw-bridge the warders stout Saw a terrier and lurcher passing out.' ie led the boy' o'er bank and feli He led the boy o'er bank and fell, Until they came to a woodland brook; The running stream dissolved the spell, And his own elvish shape he took. Could he have had his pleasure vilde, Hle had crippled the joints of the noble child; Or, with his fingers long and lean, Had strangled him in fiendish spleen: But his awful mother he had in dread, And also his power was limited; So he but scowled on the startled child, And darted through the forest wild; The woodland brook he bounding crossed, And laughed, and shouted, "Lost! lost! lost" XIV. Full sore amazed at the wondrous change, And frightened, as a child might be, At the wild yell and visage strange, And the dark words of gramarye, The child, amidst the forest bower, Stood rooted like a lilye dower; And when at length, with trembling pace, He sought to find where Branksomle lay, He feared to see that -grisly face Glare from some thicket on his wa2'y. Thus, starting oft, he journeyed on, And deeper in the wood is gone,- - For aye the more he sought his way. The farther still he went astray, — Until he heard the mountains round Ring to the baying of a hound. XV. And hark! and bark! the deep-mouthed bark Comes nigher still, and nigher; Bursts on the path a dark blood-homud, Bis tawny muzzle tracked the ground,

Page  33 LAST M1N8TRL. 83 And his red eye shot fire. Soon as the wildered child saw he, He flew at him right furiouslie. I ween you would have seen with joy The bearing of the gallant boy, When, worthy of his noble sire, His wet cheek glowed'twixt fear and irel He faced the blood-hound manfully, And held his little bat on high: So fierce he struck, the dog, afraid, At cautious distance hoarsely bayed, But still in act to spring; When dashed an archer through the glade, And when he saw the hound was stayed, He drew his tough bow-string; But a rough voice cried, "Shoot not, hoyl HIoI shoot not, Edward-'tis a boy l" XVI. The speaker issued from the wood, And checked his fellow's surly mood, And quelled the ban-dog's ire: He was an English yeoman goodf And born in Lancashire. Well could he hit a fallow deer Five hundred feet him fro'; With hand more true, and eye more clear, No archer bended bow. His coal-black hair, shorn round and close, Set off his sun-burned face; Old England's sign, St.George's cross, His barret..cap did grace; His bugle horn hung by his side, All in a wolf-skin baldric tied; And his short faulchion, sharp and clear, Had pierced the throat of many a deer. His kirtle, made of forest green, Reached scantly to his knee; And, at his belt, of arrows keen A furbished sheaf bore he; His buckler scarce in breadth a spsnk No longer fence had he; &

Page  34 34 LAY OF THE CANTO.nL He never counted him a man, Would strike below the knee; His slackened bow was in his hand, And the leash, that was his blood-hound's b'andL XVIIL He would not do the fair child harm, But held him with his powerful arm, That he might neither fight nor flee; For when the Red-Cross spied he, The boy strove long and violently. "Now, by St George," the archer cries, "Edward, methinks we have a prizel This boy's fair face, and courage free, Show he is come of high degree." Xit U Yes! I am come of high degree, For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch; And, if thou dost not set me free, FalseSouthron, thou shalt dearly rue! For Walter of Harden shall come with speed, And William of Deloraine, good at need, And every Scott from Esk to Tweed; And, if thou dost not let me go, Despite thy arrows, and thy bow, rlU have thee hanged to feed the crow " xa " Gramercy, for thy good will, fair boy! My mind was never set so high; But if thou art chief of such a clan,. And art the son of such a man, And ever comest to thy command, Our wardens had need to keep in good order: My bow of yew to a hazel wand, Thou'lt make them work upon the Border. Meantime, be pleased to come with me, For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see; I think our work is well begun, When we have taken thy father's son." XXlthogh the child Although the child was. Ied away,:In Brauksome still he seemed to stay,

Page  35 CANTO TIL LAST 3UhISTREL. For so the Dwarf hs part did play; And, in the shape of that young boy, He wrought the castle much annoy. The comrades of the young Buccleuch He pinched, and beat, and overthrew; Nay, some of them he well nigh slew. He tore Dame Maudlin's silkentire; And, as Sym Hall stood by:the fire, He lighted the match of his baidelier,* And woefully scorched the hackbutteerf. It may hardly be thought, or said, The mischief tliat the urchin made, Till many of the castle guessed That the young Baron was possessed. XXIL Well I ween, the charm he held The noble Ladye had soon dispelled; But she was deeply busied then To tend the wounded Deloraine. Much sbe wondered to find him lie, On the stone threshold stretched along; She thought some. spirit of the sky Had done the bold moss-trooper wrong, Because, despite her precept dread, Perchance he in the Book had read; But the broken lance in his bosom stood, And it was earthly steel and wood. XXHI. She drew the splinter from the wound, And with a charm she staunched the bloodr She bade the gash be cleansed and bound: No longer by his couch she stood; But she has ta'en the broken lance, And washed it from the clotted gore, And salved the splinter o'er and o'er. William of Deloraine in trance, Whene'er she turned it round and round, Twisted, as if she galled his wound. Then to her maidens she did say, That he should be whole man and sound, Within the course of a night and day. * Bandelier, belt for carrying ammunitiou. t Hackbutteer, musketeer.

Page  36 36 LAY OF TIM SIiT>. Full long she toiled; for she did rue Mishap to friend so stout and true XXIV. So passed the day-the evening fell,'Twas near the time of curfcw bell; The air was mild, the wind was calm, The stream was smooth, the dew was balm; E'en the rude watchman, on the tower, Enjoyed and blessed the lovely hour. Far more fair Margaret loved and blessed The hour of silence and of rest. On the high turret sitting lone, She waked at times the lute's soft tone-, Touched a wild note, and all between Thought of the bower of hawthorns green, Her golden hair streamed free from band Her fair cheek rested on her hand, Her blue eyes sought the west afar, For lovers love the western star,. XXV. Is yon the star, o'er Penchryst Pen, That rises slowly to her ken, And, spreading broad its wavering light, Shakes its loose tresses on the night? Is yon red glare the western star?O,'tis the beacon-blaze of war! Scarce could she draw her tightened breath For well she knew the fire of death! XXVI, The warder viewed it blazing strong, And blew his war-note loud and long, Till, at the high and haughty sound, Rock, wood, and river, rung around. The blast alarmed the festal hall, And startled forth the warriors all; Far downward, in the castle-yard, Full many a torch and cresset glared; And helms and plumes, confusedly tossed, Were in the blaze half-seen, half-lost; And spears in wild disorder shook, Like reeds beside a frozen brook.

Page  37 -ew'ro Il. L AST XINSTRUL. 37 XXVIL The Seneschal, whose silver hair Was reddened by the torches' glare, Stood in the midst, with gesture proud, And issued forth his mandates loud: — "On Penchryst glows a bale of fire, And three are kindling on Priesthaughswire; Ride out, ride out, The foe to scout! Mount, mount for Branksome, every man I Thou, Todrig, warn the Johnstone clan, That ever are true and stout — Ye need not send to Liddesdale; For, when they see the blazing bale, Elliots and Armstrongs never faiLRide, Alton, ride, for death and life, And warn the warden of the strife. Young Gilbert, let our beacon blaze, Our kin, and clan, and friends, to rais" XXVIIL Fair Margaret, from the turret head, Heard, far below, the coursers' tread, While loud the harness rung, As to their seats with clamour dread The ready horsemen, sprung; And trampling hoofs, and iron coats, And leaders' voices, mingled notes, And out! and out! In hasty rout The horsemen galloped forth; Dispersing to the south to scout, And east, and west, and north, To view their coming enemies, And warn their vassals and allies. The ready page, with hurried hand, Awaked the need-fire's slumbering brand, And ruddy blushed fhe heaven: For a sheet of flame, from the turret hige, Waved like a blood-flag on the sky, All flaring and uneven;

Page  38 LAY OF THN CANTO tlJ. And soon a score of fires, I ween, From height, and hill, and cliff, were seen, Each with warlike tidings fraught; Each from each the signal caught; Each after each they glanced to sight, As stars arise upon the night. They gleamed on many a dusky tarn,* Haunted by the lonely earn;t On many a cairn's gray pyramid, Where urns of mighty chiefs lie hid; Till high Dunedin the blazes saw, From Soltra and Dumpender Law; And Lothian heard the Regent's order, That all should bowne~ them for the Bordez. The velong night in Brankso me ng The livelong night in Branksome rang The ceaseless sound of steel; The castle-bell, with backward clang, Sent forth the larum peal; Was frequent heard the heavy jar Where massy stone and iron bar Were piled on echoing keep and tower, To whelm the foe with deadly shower; Was frequent heard the changing guard, And watch-word from the sleepless wardL While, wearied by the endless din, Blood-hound and ban-dog yelled within. XXXL. The noble Dame, amid the broil, Shared the gray Seneschal's high toil. And spoke of danger with a smile; Cheered the young knights, and council sage Held with the chiefs of riper age. No tidings of the foe were brought, Nor of his numbers knew they ought, Nor in what time the truce he sought. Some said, that there were thousands ten; And others weened that it was nought But Leven Clans, or Tynedale men,; Tarn, a mountain lake. t Earn, a Scottish eagle. ~ Bowne, make ready.

Page  39 Cxro IT, LST MINSTREL Who came to gather in black mail;' And Liddesdale, with small avail, Might drive them lightly back agen. So passed the anxious night away, And welcome was the peep of day. CEASbED the high sound-the listening throng Applaud the Master of the Song; And marvel much, in helpless age, So hard should be his pilgrimage. Had he no friend-no daughter dear His wandering toil to share and cheer;. No son, to be his father's stay, And guide him on the rugged way?" Ayel once he had-but he was deadl" Upon the harp he stooped his head, And busied himself the strings withal, To hide the tear, that fain would fall In solemn measure, soft and slow, Arose a fathers notes of woe. CANTO FOURTIH. SWEET Teviot! on thy filver tide The glaring bale-fires'blaze no more; No longer steel-clad warriors ride Along thy wild and willowed shore. Where'er thou wind'st*by dale or hill, A.l, all is peaceful, all is still, As if thy waves, sine Time was bort, Since fitt they rolled uipon the Tweed, Had only heard the shepherd's reed,Nor started at the butgle-horn. IL Unlike the tide of human time Which, though it change in ceaseless flow, Protection-money exacted by free-booters.

Page  40 L&T or Tn CAWTo -I. Retains each grief, retains each crime, Its earliest course was doomed to know, And, darker as it downward bears, Is stained with past and present tears. Low as that tide has ebbed with me, It still reflects to memory's eye The hour, my brave, my only boy, Fell by the side of great Dundee.* Why, when the volleying musket played Against the bloody Highland blade, Why was not I beside him laid IEnough —he died the death of fame; Enough —he died with conquering Grmeo. IlL Now over Border dale and fell, Full wide and far was terror spread; For pathless marsh, and mountain cell, The peasant left his lowly shed. The frightened flocks and herds were pent Beneath the peel's rude battlement; And maids and matrons dropped' the tear, While ready warriors seized the spear. From Branksome's towers, the watchman's eye Dun wreaths of distant smoke' can spy, Which,curling in the rising sun, Showed southern ravage was begun. Now loud the heedful gate-ward cried —. " Prepare ye all for blows and bloodI Watt Tinlinn, from the Liddle-side, Comes wading through the flood. Full oft the Tynedale snatchers knock, At his lone gate, and prove the lock; It was but last St Barnabright They sieged him a whole summer night, But fled at morning; well they knew, In vain he never twanged the yew. Right sharp has been the evening shower, That drove him from his Liddle tower; And, by my faith," the gate-ward said, "I think'twill prove a Warden-Raid." * The Viscount of Dmdee, slain in the battle of ]illycrankie. JLL~~___ I

Page  41 CANTO IV. LAs MINSTE. 41 V. While thus he spoke, the bold yeoman Entered the echoing barbican. He led a small and shaggy nag, That through a bog, from hag to hag, Could bound like any Bilhope stag. It bore his wife and children twain; A half-clothed serf was all their trains His wife, stout, ruddy, and dark-browed, Of silver brooch and bracelet proud, Laughed to her friends among the crowd. He was of stature passing tall, But' sparely formed, and lean withal: A battered morion on, his brow; A leathern jack, as fence enow, On his broad shoulders loosely hung; A border-axe behind was slung; His spear, six Scottish ells in length, Seemed newly dyed with gore; His shafts and bow,'of wondrous strength, His hardy partner bore. VL Thus to the Ladye did Tinlinn show The tidings of the English foe:-. " Belted oWill Howard is marching here, And hot Lord Dacre, with many a spear, And all the Germant hagbut-men, Who have long lain at Askertain: They crossed the Liddle at curfew hour, And burned my little lonely tower; The fiend receive their souls therefor! It had not been burned this year and more, Barn-yard and dwelling, blazing bright Served to guide me on my flight; But I was chased the live-long night. Blackr John of Akeshaw, and Fergus Grieme, ]Fast upon my traces came, Until.I turned at Priesthaugh-Scrogg, And shot their horses in the bog, Slew Fergus lance outright. I had him long at high despite: Hie drove my cows last Fastern's nightW

Page  42 42 LAY OF TUB CANTO IV. VnL Now weary scouts from Liddesdale, Fast hurrying in, confirmed the tale: As far as they could judge by ken, Three hours would bring to Treviot's stranal Three thousand armed Englishmen. — Meanwhile, full many a warlike baud, From Teviot, Aill, and Ettrick shade, Came in, their Chief's defence to aid. vim From fair St Mary's silver wave, From dreary Gamescleuch's dusky height, His ready lances Thirlestane brave Arrayed beneath a banner bright. The treasured fleur-de-luce he claims To wreathe his shield, since royal James, Encamped by Fala's mossy wave, The proud distinction grateful gave, For faith'mid feudal jars; What time, save Thirlestane alone, Of Scotland's stubborn barons none Would march to southern wars; And hence, in fair remembrance worn, Yon sheaf of spears his crest has borne: Hence his high motto shines revealed, — "Ready, aye ready," for the field. An aged knight, to danger steeled, With many a moss-trooper, came ol j And azure in a golden field, The stars and crescent graced his shield, Without the bend of Murdieston. Wide lay his lands round Oakwood tower, And wide round haunted Castle-Ower; High over Borthwick's mountain flood, His wood-embosomed mansion' stood;' In the dark glen, so deep below, The herds of plundered England low; His bold retainers' daily food, And bought with danger, blows, and bloo&d Marauding chief his sole delight The moonlight raid, the morning figl;

Page  43 CANTO IVt, LAST MINSTR 43 Not even the Flower of Yarrow's charm, In youth, might tame his rage for arms; And still, in age, he spurned at rest, And still his brows the helmet pressed, Albeit the blanched locks below Were white as Dinlay's spotless snows Five stately warriors drew the sword Before their father's band; A braver knight than Harden's lord Ne'er belted on a brand. X. Whitslade the Hawk, and Headshaw came, And warriors more than I may name; From Yarrow-cleuch to Hindhaugh-swair, From Woodhouselie to Chester-glen, Trooped man and horse, and bow and spear; Their gathering word was'" Bellenden!" And better hearts o'er Border sod To siege or rescue never;rode. The Ladye marked the aids come in, And high her heart of pride arose: She bade her youthful son attend, That he might know his father's friend, And learn to face his foes. "The boy is ripe to look on war; I saw him draw a cross-bow stiff, And his true arrow struck afar The raven's nest upon the cliff; The Red Cross, on a southern breast, Is broader than the raven's nest: [wield,, Thou, Whitslade, shalt teach him his weapon to And o'er him hold his father's shield." I t I'.X~ Well may you think, the wily Page Cared not to face the Ladye sage. He counterfeited childish fear, And shrieked, and shed full many a tear, And moaned and plained in manner wildl The attendants to the Ladye told, Some fairy, sure, had changed the clild, That wont to be so free and bold. Then wrathful was the noble dame; She blushed blood-red for very sh-aeu --

Page  44 44 LAY OF THI CANTO I " Hence! ere the clan his faintness view; Hence with the weakling to Bucclcuch — Watt Tinlinn, thou shalt be his guide To Rangleburn's lonely side.Sure some fell fiend has cursed our line, That cowardshould e'er be son of minel" XI. A heavy task Watt Tinlinn had, To guide the counterfeited lad. Soon as his palfrey felt the weight. Of that ill-omen'd elvish freight, He bolted, sprung, and reared amain, Nor heeded bit, nor curb, nor rein. It cost Watt Tinlinn mickle toil To drive him but a Scottish mile; But, as a shallow brook they crossed, The elf, amid the running stream, l/is figure changed, like form in dream, And fled, and shouted, "Lost! lost! lostr" Full fast the urchin ran and laughed, But faster still a cloth-yard shaft Whistled from startled Tinlinn's yew, And pierced his shoulder through and through. Although the imp might not be slain, And though the wound soon healed again, Yet, as he ran, he yelled for pain; And Watt of Tinlinn, much aghast, Bode back to Branksome fiery fast. XIIL Soon on the hill's steep verge he stood, That looks o'er Branksoine's towers and wood; And martial murmurs, from below, Proclaimed the approaching southern foe. Through the dark wood, in mingled tone, Were Border-pipes and bugles blown; The coursers' neighing he could ken, And measured tread of marching menWhile broke at times the solemn hum, The Almayn's sullen kettle drum; And banners tall, of crimson sheen, Above the copse appear; And, glistening through the hawthorns green, Shine helm, and shield, and spear.

Page  45 ANTO ITV. LAST MINSTREL, Light forayers first, to view the ground, Spurred their fleet coursers loosely round Behind, in close array and fast, The Kendal archers, all in green, Obedient to the bugle blast, Advancing from the wood are seen. To back and guard the archer band, Lord Dacre's bill-men were at hand; A hardy race, on Irthing bred, With kirtles white, and crosses red, Arrayed beneath the banner tall, That streamed o'er Acre's conquered wall; And minstrels, as they marched in order, Played, " Noble Lord Dacre, he dwells on the Border.", Xv. Behind the English bill and bow, The mercenaries, firm and slow, Moved on to fight, in dark array, By Conrad led of Wolfenstein, Who brought the band from distant Rhine, And sold their blood for foreign pay. The camp their home, their law the sword, They knew no country, owned no lord: They were not armed like England's sons, But bore the levin-darting guns; Buff-coats, all frounced and,'broidered o'er, And morsing-horns* and scarfs they wore; Each better knee was bared, to aid The warriors in the escalade. All, as they marched, in rugged tongue, Songs of Teutonic feuds they sung. XVL But louder still the clamour grew, And louder still the minstrels blew, When, from beneath the greenwood tree, Rode forth Lord Howard's chivalry; His men at arms, with glaive and spear, Brought up the battle's glittering rear. * Powder flasks.

Page  46 I - 46 LAY Or TrE CANTO IV. There many a youthful knight, full keen To gain his spurs, in arms was seen; With favour in his crest, or glove, Memorial of his ladye-Iove. So rode they forth in fair array, Till full their lengthened lines displays Then called a halt, and made a stand, And cried, " St George, for merry Englandl" XVIL Now every English eye, intent, On Branksome's armed towers was bent; So near they were, that they might know The straining harsh of each cross-bow; On'battlement and bartizan Gleamed axe, and spear, and partizan; Falcon and culver,* on each tower,: Stood prompt their deadly hail to showerl And flashing armour frequent broke From eddying whirls of sable smoke, Where, upon tower and turret head, The seething pitch and molten lead Reeked, like a witch's cauldron red. While yet they gaze, the bridges fall, The wicket opes, and from the wall tldes forth che hoary SeneschaL XVIHL Armed he rode, all save the head, His white beard o'er his breast-plate spread; Unbroke by age, erect his seat, He ruled his eager courser's gait; Forced him, with chastened fire, to pranceo And, high curvetting, slow advance; In sign of truce, his better hand Displayed agpeeled willow wand; His squire, attending in the rear, Bore high a gauntlet on a spear. When they espied him riding out, Lord Howard and Lord Dacre stout Sped to the front of their array, iTo hear what this old knight should say. Ancient pieces of artillery.

Page  47 CAo lTO V LAST MIN8TREI " Ye English warden lords, of you Demands the Ladye of Buccleuch, Why,'gainst the truce of Border-tide, In hostile guise ye dare to ride, With Kendal- bow, and'Gilsland brand, And all your mercenary band, Upon the bounds of fair Scotland? My Ladye reads you swith return; And, if but one poor straw you burn, Or do our towers so much molest, As scare one swallow from her nest, St Mary! but we'll light a brand, Shall warm your hearths in CumberlanVd? A watchful man was Dacre's lord, iBut calmer Howard took the word: — "May't please thy Dame, Sir Seneschal, To seek the castle's outward wall; Our pursuivant-at-arms shall show, Both why we came, and when we go." The message sped, the noble Dame To the walls' outward circle came; Each chief around leaned on his spear, To see the persuivant appear. All in Lord Howard's livery dressed, The lion argent decked his breast; lHe led a boy of blooming hueO sight to meet a mother's view! It was the heir of great Buccleuch. Obeisance meet the herald made, And thus his master's will he said. XXL It irks, high Dame, my noble Lords,'Gainst ladye fair to draw their swords: But yet they may not tamely see, All through the western wardenry, Your law-contemning kinsmen ride, And burn and spoil the Border-side; And ill beseems your rank and birth To make your towers a flemens-firth' An asylum for outlaws.

Page  48 48 LAR OF TH3 <t We claim from thee' William of Deloraine, That he may suffer march-treason pain: It was but last St Cuthbert's even He pricked to Stapleton on Leven, Harried the lands of Richard Mnusgrave, And slew his brother by dint of glaive. Then, since a lone. and widowed Dame These restless riders may not tame, Either receive within thy towers Two hundred of my master's powers, Or straight they sound their warison, And stQrm and spoil thy garrison, And this fair boy, to London led, Shall good King Edward's page be bred." XXIL He ceased-and loud the boy did cry, And stretched his little arms on high.: Implored for aid each well-known face, And strove to seek the Dame's enmbrace. A moment changed that Ladye's cheer, Gushed to her eye the unbidden tear; She gazed upon the leaders round, And dark and. sad each warrior frowned; Then, deep within her sobbing breast, She locked the struaggling sigh to rest; Unaltered and collected stood, And thus replied, in dauntless mood: XXIIL, Say to your Lords of high emprizo. Who war on woman and on boys, That either William of Deloraine Will cleanse him, by oath, of march-treason ~,in, Or else he will the combat take'Gainst Musgrave, for his honour's sake. No knight in Cumberland so good, But Williamenay count with him kin and blood. Knighthood he took of Douglas' sword, When English blood swelled Ancram ford; And but that Lord Dacre's steed was wight, And bare him ably in the flight, Himself had seen him dubbed a knight. For the young heir of Branksome's lihne, God be his aid, and God be mine;

Page  49 CAIro IV. LAST MIKSTREL, 49 Through me no friend shall meet his doomnt Here while I live, no foe finds room. Then, if thy lords their purpose urge, Take our defiance loud and high; Our slogan is their lyke-wake dirge, Our moat, the grave where they shall lte." Proud she looked round, applause to claitrn- Then lightened Thirlestane's eye of flalie; His bugle Watt of Harden blew; Pensils and pennons wide were flung, To heaven the Border slogan rung, "St Mary for the young Buccleuch!" The English war-cry answered wide, And forward bent each southern spear; Each Kendal archer made a stride, And drew the bow-string to his car: Each minstrel's war-note loud was blown; But, ere a gray-goose shaft had flown, A horseman galloped from the rear. "Ah! noble Lordsl" he, breathless, said,' What treason has your march betrayedi What make you here, from aid so far, Before you walls, around you war? Your foemen triumph in the thought, That in the toils the lion'scaught. Already on dark Ruberslaw The Douglas holds his weapon-schaw: The lances, waving in his train, Clothe the dun heath like autumn grain; And on the Liddle's northern strand, To bar retreat to Cumberland, Lord Maxwell ranks his merry-men good Beneath the eagle and the rood; And Jedwood, Eske, and Teviotdale, Have to proud Angus come; And all the Merse and Lauderdale Have risen with haughty Home. An exile from Northumberland, In Liddesdale I've wandered long; But still my heart was with merry England;, And cannot brook my country's wrong, And hard I've spurred all night to show The mustering of the coming foe."

Page  50 50 LAY OP THgS VATO IV XXVL And let them come!" fierce Dacre cere!: "For soon yon crest, my father's pridlc, That swept the shores of Judah's s',a, And waved in gales of Galilee, From Branksome's highest towers dislrl.n: Sh,.l mock the rescue's lingering aid!Level each harquebuss on row; Draw, merry archers, draw the bow; Up, bill-men, to the walls, and cry, Dacre for England, win or die I" XXVIIL "Yet hear," quoth Howard, calmly Icaer. Nor deem my words the words of fear: For who in field or foray slack But thus to risque our Border flower In strife against a kingdom's power, Ten thousand Scots'gainst thousands dirbtvs5 Certes, were desperate policy. Nay, take the terms the Ladye made, Ere conscious of the advancing aid: Let Musgrave meet fierce Deloraine In single fight; and if he gain, He gains for us; but if he's crossed,'Tis but a single warrior lost: The rest, retreating as they came, Avoid defeat, and death, and shame.' XXVIIL Ill1 could the haughty Dacre brook His brother-warden's sage rebuke; And yet his forward step he staid, And slow and sullenly obeyed: But ne'er again the Border side Did these two lords in friendship rideAnd this slight discontent, men say, Cost blood upon another day. XXIX. The persuivant-at-arms again Before the castle4took:hia stand.i, ~ ~- ~-1...~-.. _~__. __1._ *.* ~~..~-;~~....~~....-..-. ~~~~IL1_.~- ~~~~- ~ i II' I — I~~"

Page  51 rANTO W1. LAS IMINSTRE. 51 His trumpet called, with parleying strain, The leaders of the Scottish band; And he defied, in Musgrave's right, Stout Deloraine to single fight; A gauntlet at their feet he laid, And thus the terms of fight he said:If itthe lists good Musgrave's sword Vanquish the knight of Deloraine, Your youthful chieftain, Branksome' lord, Shall hostage for his clan remain: If Deloraine foil good Musgrave, The boy his liberty shall have. Howe'er it falls, the English band}'Unharming Scots, by Scots unharmed, In peaceful march like men unarmed, Shall straight retreat to Cumberland." Xxx' Unconscious of the near relief, The proffer pleased each Scottish chief, Though much the Ladye sage gainsayed: I For though their hearts were brave and true, From Jedwood's recent sack they knew.i How tardy was the regent's aid;' ~uAnd you may guess the noble Dame Durst not the secret prescience own, Sprung from the art she might not name, By which the coming help was known. Closed was the compact, and agreed That lists should be enclosed with speed Beneath the castle on a lawn: They fixed the mkrow for the strifo; On-foot, with Scottish.axe and knife, At the fourth hour from peep of dawn: -When Deloraine, from sickness freed,.Or else a champion in his stead, Should for himself and chieftain stand, i Against stout Musgrave, hand to hand,. XXXL r Iknow right well, that, in their lay, 4i Full many minstrels sing and say, Such combat should he made on horse; i EOn foaming steed, in full career,

Page  52 52 LAY OF TUN ~T70 O tV, With brand to aid, when as the spea Should shiver in the course: But he, the jovial Harper, taught Me, yet a youth, how it was fought, In guise which now I say: lie knew each ordinance and clause Of black Lord Archibald's battle laws, In the old Douglas' day. Hie brooked not, he, that scoffing tongue Should tax his minstrelsy with wrong, Or call his song untrue: FI I For this when they the goblet plied, And such rude taunt had chafed his pride, The bard of Reull he slew. On Teviot's side, in fight, they stood, And tuneful hands were stained with bl)oi.; Where still the thorn's white branches; w'vty, lMemorial o'er his rival's grave. XXXIL Why should I tell the rigid doom, That dragged my master to his tomb; How Ousenam's maidens tore their hliur1 Wept till their eyes were dead and dim, And wrung their hands for love of hinm WVho died at Jedwood Air? He died!-his scholars, one by ones To the cold silent grave are gone; And I, alas! survive alone, To muse o'er rivalries of yore, And grieve that I shall hear no more The strains, with envy heard before; For, with my minstrel brethren fled, My jealodsy of song is dead. HE paused:-the listening dames again Applaud the hoary Minstrel's strain; With many a word of kindly cheer,In pity half, and half sincere,Marvelled the Duchess how so well His legendary song could tell — Of ancient deeds, so long forgot; Of feuds, whose memory was not; Of forests, now laid waste and bare; 0c towers which harbour now the hare;

Page  53 ;t A. LAST MINSTREL. Of manners, long since changed and gona8 Of chiefs, who under their gray stone *So long had slept, that fickle Fame ]lad blotted from her rolls their name, And twined round some new minion's head T'he fading wreath for which they bled;In sooth,'twas strange, this old man's verse Could call them from their marble hearse. The Harper smiled, well pleased; for ne'er vas flattery lost on poet's ear: A simple race! they waste their toil For the vain tribute of a smile; E'en'when in age their flame expires, Her dulcet breath can fan its fires: Their drooping fancy wakes at praise, And strives to trim the short-lived blaze. Smiled then, well-pleased, the Aged Man, And thus his tale continued ran. CANTO FIFTH. CATL it not valn:-they do not err, Who say, that, when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies; Who say, tall cliff, and cavern lone, For the departed bard make moan; That -mountains weep in crystal Till;'That flowers in tears of balm distil; Through his loved groves that breezes sigh, And oaks, in deeper groan, reply; And rivers teach their rushing wave To murmur dirges round his grave. IL Not that, in sooth, o'er Those things inanimate can mourn; But that the stream, the wood, the gale, is vocal with the plaintive wail

Page  54 .l US,; LAY OF THE.CAN'S Of those, who, else forgotten long, Lived in the poet's faithful song, And, with the poet's parting breath, Whose memory feels a second death. The maid's pale shade, who wails her lot, That love, true love, should be forgot, From rose and hawthorn shakes the tear Upon the gentle minstrel's bier: The phantom knight, his glory fled, Mourns o'er the fields he heaped with dead I Mounts the wild blast that sweeps amain, And shrieks along the battle-plain: The chief, whose antique crownlet long Still sparkled in the feudal song, Now, from the mountain's misty throne, Sees, in the thanedom once his own,% H lis ashes undistinguished lie, His place, his power, his memory die: His groans the lonely caverns fill, His tears of rage impel the rill; All mourn the minstrel's harp unstrung, Their name unknown, their praise unsung III. Scarcely the hot assault was staid, The terms of truce were scarcely made, When they could spy, from Branksome's towers. The advancing march of martial powers; Thick clouds cf dust afar appeared, And trampling steeds were faintly heard; Bright spears, above the columns dun, Glanced momentary to the sun; And feudal banners fair displayed The bands that moved to Branksome's aid. IV.'Vails not to tell each hardy clan, From the fair Middle Marches came; The Bloody Heart blazed in the van, Announcing Douglas' dreaded name t'Vails not to tell what steeds did spurn, Where the Seven Spears of Wedderbum Their men in battle-order set; And Swinton laid the lance in rest, __ _ _

Page  55 CANTO T. LAST MINSTREL 5 That tamed of yore the sparkling crest Of Clarence's Plantagenet. Nor lists, I say, what hundreds more, From the rich Merse and Lammermore, And Tweed'sfair borders, to the war, Beneath the crest of old Dunbar, And Hepburn's mingled banners -ome, Down the steep mountain glittering far, And shouting still, "a Homel a Home!" V. Now squire and knight, from Branksome sent, On many a courteous message went; To every chief and lord they paid Meet thanks for prompt and powerful aid; And told them,-how a truce was made, And how a day of fight was ta'en'Twixt Musgrave and stout Deloraine; And how the Ladye prayed them dear, That all would stay the fight to see, And deign, in love and courtesy, To taste of Branksome cheer. Nor, while they bade to feast each Scot, Were England's noble Lords forgot; Himself, the hoary Seneschal, Rode forth, in seemly terms to call Those gallant foes to Branksome Hall. Accepted Howard, than whom knight Was never dubbed, more bold in fight, Nor, when from war and armour free, More famed for stately courtesy: But angry Dacre rather chose In his pavilion to repose. VL Now, noble Dame, perchance you ask, How these two hostile armies met? Deeming it were no easy task To keep the truce which here- was set} Where martial spirits, all on fire, Breathed only blood and mortal irea.By mutual inroads, mutual blows, By habit, and by nation, foes,

Page  56 !5 LAY OF THE CANTO VP They met on Teviot's srand: They met, and sate them mingled down, Without a threat,without a frown, As brothers meet in foreign land: The hands, the spear that lately grasped, Still in the mailed gauntlet clasped, Were interchanged in greeting dear; VVisors were raised, and faces shown, And many a friend, to friend made known, Partook of social cheer. Some drove the jolly bowl about; With dice and draughts some chased the Oy-i And some, with many a merry shout, In riot, revelry, and rout, Pursued the foot-ball play Vi. Yet be it known, had bugles blown, Or sign of war been seen, Those bands, so fair together ranged, Those hands, so frankly interchanged, ~j lHad dyed with gore the green: The merry shout by Teviot-side Had sunk in war-cries wild and wide, And in the groan of death; And whingers,* now in friendship bare, The social meal to part and share, Had found a bloody sheath.' Twixt truce and war, such sudden change Was not unfiequent, nor held strange, In the old Border-day; But yet on Branksome's towers and town, In peaceful merriment, sunk down The sun's declining ray. VUL The blithesome signs of wassel gay Decayed not with the dying day; Soon through the latticed windows tall Of lofty Branksome's lordly hall, Divided square by shafts of stone, Huge flakes of rddy lustre shone; Nor less the gilded rafters rang With merry harp and beakers' clan g; A sort of knife, or poniard.,.... __................ _ _____.._ _____

Page  57 I NTo v. LABT INSTREL. 57 And frequent, on the darkening plain, Loud hollo, whoop, or whistle ran, As bands, their stragglers to regain, Give the shrill watch-word of their clan; And revellers, o'er their bowls, proclaim Douglas or Dacre's conquering name. IX. L ess frequent heard, and fainter still, At length the various clamours died; And you might hear, from Branksome hill, No sound but Teviot's rushing tide; Save, when the changing sentinel The challenge of his watch could tell; And save, where, through the dark profound, The clanging axe and hammer's sound Rung from the nether lawn; For many a busy hand toiled there, Strong pales to shape, and beams to square, The lists' dread barriers to prepare, Against the morrow's dawn. X. Margaret from hall did soon retreat, Despite the dame's reproving eye, Nor marked she, as she left her seat, Full many a stifled sigh: For many a noble warrior strove To win the flower of Teviot's love, And many a bold ally.With throbbing head and anxious heart All in her lonely bower apart, In broken sleep she lay: By times, from silken couch she rose; While yet the bannered hosts repose, She viewed the dawning day: Of all the hundreds sunk to rest, First woke the loveliest and the bet. XL She gazed upon the inner court, Which in the tower's tall shadow layl Where coursers' clang. and stamp, and snort, Had rung the live-long yesterday;

Page  58 LAY OF TUIB C.A"TO V. Now still as death; —till, stalking slow, — The jingling spurs announced his tread, — A stately warrior passed below; But when he raised his plumed headBlessed Maryl can it be?Secure, as if in Ousenam bowers, He walks through Branksome's hostile tower With fearless step and free. She dare not sign, she dare not speakOh! if one page's slumbers break, His blood the price must pay! Not all the pearls Queen Mary wears, Not Margaret's yet more precious tears, Shall buy his life a day. XIL Yet was his hazard small-for well You may bethink you of the spell Of that sly urchin Page; This to his lord he did impart And made him seem, by glamour art, A knight -from Hermitage. Unchallenged, thus, the warder's post, The court, unchallenged, thus he crossed, For all the vassalage: But, O! what magic's quaint disguise Could blind fair Margaret's azure eyest She started from her seat; While with surprise and fear she strove, And both could scarcely master love-. Lord Henry's at her feet. Oft have I mused, what purpose bad That foul malicious urchin bad To bring this meeting round; For happy love's a heavenly sight, And by a vile malignant sprite In such no joy is found: And oft I've deemed, perchance he th( nght Their erring passion might have wrought Sorrow, and sin, and shame; And death to Cranstoun's gallant Knight, And to the gentle Ladye bright,

Page  59 j ClNTO V. LAST MINSTREl, Disgrace, and loss of fame. But earthly spirit could not tell The heart of them that loved so well; True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven. It is not Fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die: It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.Now leave we Margaret and her Knight, To tell you of the approaching fight. XIV. Their warning blast the bugles blew, The pipe's shrill port aroused each claun In haste, the deadly strife to view, The trooping warriors eager ran: Thick round the lists their lances stood, Like blasted pines in Ettricke wood; To Branksome many a look they threw, The combatants' approach to view, And bandied many a word of boast, About the knight each favoured most. H I Xv. Meantime full anxious was the Dame; For now arose disputed claim, Of who should fight for Deloraine,'Twixt Harden and'twixt Thirlestaine: They'gan to reckon kin and rent, And frowning brow on brow was bent; But yet not long the strife-for lo! Himself, the Knight of Deloraine, Strong, as it seemed, and free from pain, In armour sheathed from top to toe, Appeared, and craved the combat due. The Dame her charm successful knew, And the fierce chiefs their claims withdrew. XVI. When for the lists they sought the plain, The stately Ladye's silken rein, ___

Page  60 90 LAY OF THE CA.tM V. Did noble Howard hold; Unarmed by her side he walked, And much, in courteous phrase, they talked Of feats of arms of old. Costly his garb, his Flemish ruff Fell o'er his doublet, shaped of but, With satin slashed, and lined; Tawny his boot, and gold his spur, His cloak was all of Poland fur, Hishose with silver twined; His Blilboa blade, by Marchmen felt, Hung in a broad and studded belt; Hence, in rude phrase, the Borderers still Called noble Howard, Belted Will. xVIL Behind Lord Howard and the Dame, Fair Margaret on her palfrey came, Whose foot-cloth swept the ground; White was her wimple, and her veil, And her loose locks a chaplet pale Of whitest roses bound; The lordly Angus,-by her side, In courtesy to cheer her tried; Without his aid, her hand in vain Had strove to guide her broidered rein.! He deemed, she shuddered at the sight Of warriors met for mortal fight; But cause of terror, all unguessed, Was fluttering in her gentle breast, When, in their chairs of crimson placed, The Dame and she the barriers graced. XVIIII Prize of the field, the young Buecleueh An English knight led forth to view; Scarce rued the boy his present plight, So much he longed to see the fight. Within the lists, in knightly pride, 1 High Home and haughty Dacre ride; Their leading staffs of steel they wield, As marshals of the mortal field: While to each knight their care assigned Like vantage of the sun and wiad.- i t1

Page  61 CA rO L tAST MINSTREL. Then heralds hoarse did loud proclaim, In king and queen, and wardens' name, That none, while lasts the strife, Should dare, by look, or sign, or word, Aid to a chatnpion to afford, On peril of his life; And not a breath the silence broke, Till thus the alternate heralds spoke: ENGLISH HERALr Here standeth Richard of Musgrave, Good knight and true, and freely born. Amends from Deloraine to crave, For foul despiteous scathe and scorn; He sayeth, that William of Deloraine Is traitor false by Border laws; This with his sword he will maintain, So help him God, and his good cause! X. SCOTTISH HERALD. Here standeth William of Deloraine, Good knight and true, of noble strain, Who sayeth, that foul treason's stain, Since he bore arms, ne'er soiled his coaa And that, so help him God above, He will on NMusgrave' s body prove, He lyes most foully in his throat. LORD D&CRE, Forward, brave champions, to the fight? Sound trumpets I - LORD HOME, - -- "God defend the right" — Then, Teviot! how thine echoes rang, When bugle-sound and trumpet-clang Let loose the martial foes, And in mid list, with shield poised high, And measured step and wary eye, The combatants did close; Ill would it suit your gentle ear, Ye lovely listeners, to hear L!~~~~~~~~~lli~)~~- t^f~WLjLLI-~lli-~~~WL -Llir e~i.~~~~_ — -~

Page  62 LAY O Tand, CAUNTO,7. How to the axe the helms did sound, And blood poured down from many a wound; For desperate was the strife, and long, And either warrior fierce and strong. But, were each dame a listening knight, I well could tell how warriors fight; For I have seen war'slightning flashing, Seen the claymore with bayonet clashing, Seen through red blood the war-horse dashiing, And scorned, amid the reeling strife, To yield a step for death or life. XXIL Tis done,'ti doneI that fatal blow Has stretched him on the bloody plain; Hie strives to rise-Brave Musgrave,nol Thence never shalt thou rise againl Hie chokes in blood-some friiendly hand Undo the visor's barred band, Unfix the gorget's iron clasp, And give him room for life to gasp! O, bootless aidl-haste holy Friar, Haste, ere the sinner shall expire l Of all his guilt let him be shriven, And smooth his path from earth to heavelt. XXIII. In haste the holy Friar sped;- His naked foot was dyed with red, As through the lists he ran; Unmindful of the shouts on high, That hailed the conqueror's victory, He raised the dying man; Loose waved his silver beard and hair, As o'er him he kneeled down in prayer; And still the crucifix on high i He holds before his darkening eye; And still he bends an anxious ear, His faltering penitence to hear; Still props him from the bloody sod, Still, even when soul and body part,,Pours ghostly comfort on his heart, And bids him trust in God!. A

Page  63 CANTO VI. AST MINSTREL. Unheard he prays;-the death pang's o'er! — Richard of Musgrave breathes no more. XXIV. As if exhausted in the fight, Or musing o'er the piteous sight, The silent victor stands; HIis beaver did he not unclasp, Marked not the shouts, felt not the grasp Of gratulating hands. When loI strange cries of wild surprise, Mingled with seeming terror, rise Among the Scottish bands; And all, amid the thronged array, In panic haste gave open way To a half-naked ghastly man, Who downward from the castle rant HIe crossed the barriers at a bound, And wild and haggard looked around, As dizzy, and in pain; And all, upon the armed ground, Knew William of Deloraine! Each ladye sprung from seat with speedVaulted each marshal. fiom his steed; " And who art thou," they cried, "Who hast this battle fought and won?" His plumed helm was soon undone"' Cranstoun of Teviotside! For this fair prize rI've fought and won,*And to the Ladye led her son. XXV. Full oft the rescued boy she kissed, And often pressed him to her breast; For, under all her dauntless show, hIer heart had throbbed at every blow; Yet not Lord Cranstoun deigned she greet, Though low he kneeled at her feet.Me lists not tell what words were made, What, Douglas, Hiome, and Howard said-For Howard was a generous foeAnd how the clan united prayed, The Ladye would the feud forego, And deign to bless the nuptial hour Of Cranstoun's Lord and Teviot's Flower.

Page  64 r - 64 LAT OF TH'R CANT'o V. XXVL She looked to river, looked to hill, Thought on the Spirit's prophecy. Then broke her silence stern and still,"Not you, but Fate, has vanquished me.Their influence kindly stars may shower On Teviot's tide and Branksome's tower, For pride is quelled, and love is free." She took fair Margaret by the hand, Who, breathless, trembling, scarce might stand; That hand to Cranstoun's lord gave she. As I am true to thee and thine, Do thou be true to me and mine!'This clasp of love our bond shall be; For this is your betrothing day, And all these noble lords shall stay, To grace it with their company." XXVIL All as they left the listed plain, Much of the story she did gain: How Cranstoun fought with Dcloraine, And of his Page, and of the Book, Which from the wounded knight he took; And how he sought her castle high, That morn, by help of gramarye; How, in Sir William's armour dight, Stolen by his Page, while slept the knight, He took on him the single fight. iBut half his tale he left unsaid, And lingered till he joined the maid. — Cared not the Ladye to betray Her mystic arts in view of day; But well she thought; ere midnight came, Of that strange Page the pride to tame, IFrom his foul hands the Book to save, And send it back to Michael's grave. — Needs not to tell each tender word'Twixt Margaret and'twixt Cranstoun's lord; Nor how she told of former woes, And how her bosom fell and rose, While he and Musgrave bandied blowsNeeds not these lovers' joys to tell; One day, fair maids you'll know them well.

Page  65 >ca2X V. LAST MiNsTRE 6;! XXVIIL William of Deloraine, some chance Had wakened from his deathlike trance; And taught that, in the listed plain, Another, in his arms and shield, Against fierce Musgrave axe did wield. Under the name of Deloraine. Hence, to the field, unarmed, he ran, And hence his presence scared the clan, Who held him for some fleeting wraith,* And not a man of blood and breath. Not much this new ally he loved, Yet,when he saw what hap had provedl He greeted him right heartilie: He would not waken old debate, F'or he was void of rancorous hate, Though rude, and scant of courtesyt In raids he spilt but seldom blood, Unless when men at arms withstood, Or, as was meet, for deadly feud. Hle ne'er bore grudge for stalwart blow, Ta'en in fair fight from gallant foe: And so'twas seen of him, e'en now, When on dead Musgrave he looked dc;wu Grief darkened on his rugged brow, Though half disguised with a fiown; And thus, while sorrow bent his head, His foeman's epitaph he made. xxTI a Now, Richard Musgrave, liest thou here! I ween, my deadly enemy; For if I slew thy brother dear, Thou slewest a sister's son to me; And when I lay in dungeon dark, Of Naworth Castle, long months three, Till ransomed for a thousand mark, Dark Musgrave, it was long of thee. And, Musgrave, could our fight be tried; And thou wert now alive, as I, No mortal man should us divide, Till one, or both of us, did die: The spectral apparition of a living perko+ _______ __ -

Page  66 tLAT OF rTHE CanI Yet, rest thee God! for well I know, I ne'et shall find a nobler foe. In all the northern counties here, WVhose word is, Snafie, spur, and spear, Thou wert the best to follow gear.'Twas pleasure, as we looked behind, To see how thou the chase couldst wind, Cheer the dark blood-hound on his v ay, And with the bugle rouse the fray! I'd give the lands of Deloraine, Dark Musgrave were alive again." XXX So mourned he, till Lord Dacre's band Were bowning back to Cumberland. They raised brave Musgrave from the field, And laid him on his bloody shield; On levelled lances, four and four, By turns, the noble burden bore: Before, at times, upon the gale, Was heard the Minstrel's plaintive wail; Behind, four priests, in sable stole, Sung requiem'for the warrior's soul:.rnmd, the horsemen slowly rode; With trailing pikes the spearmen trod; And thus the gallant knight they bore, Through Liddesdale, to Leven's shore; Thence to Holme Coltrame's lofty nave, And laid him in his father's grave. The harp's wild notes, though hushed the song The mimic march of death prolong; Now seems it far, and now a-near, Now meets, and now eludes the ear; Now seems some mountain side to sweep, Now faintly dies in valley deep; Seems now as if the Minstrel's wail, Now the sad requiem loads the gale; Last, o'er the warrior's closing grave, Rung the full choir in choral stave. After due pause, they bade him tell, Why he who touched the harp so well,

Page  67 1t ~ CANTO t. LA>ST XM RTBr, 6 Should thus, with ill-rewarded toil, Wander a poor and thankless soil, When the more generous southern land Would well requite his skilful hand. The Aged Harper, howsoe'er His only friend, his harp, wag dear, Liked not to hear it ranked so high Above his flowing poesy; Less liked he still that scornful jeer Misprized the land, he loved so dear; High was the sound, as thus again The bard resumed his minstrel strain. CANTO SIXTH. BRIATshS there the man, with soul so deal Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land I Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand I If such there breathe, go, mark him wellAFor him no Minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf The wretchc.oncentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, anhonoured, and unsung. IL 0 Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wmod, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires! what mortal han Can e'er untie the filial band,

Page  68 ALA.T OF THZ ( VIO. That knits me to thy rugged strand! Still, as I view each well known scene, Think what is now, and what hath been, Seems as, to me, of all bereft, Sole friends thy woods and streams were left, And thus I love them better still, Even in extremity of ill. By Yarrow's stream still let me stray, Though none should guide my feeble way; Still feel the breeze down Ettricke break, Although it chill my withered cheek; Still lay my head br Teviot stone, Though there, forgotten and alone, The Bard may draw his parting groan. I1. Not scorned like me! to Branksomo IIalD The Minstrels came, at festive call; Trooping they came, from near and far, The jovial priests of mirth and war; Alike for feast and fight prepared, Battle and banquet both they shared Of late, before each martial clan, They blew their death-note in the van, But now, for every merry mate, Rose the portcullis' iron grate; They sound the pipe, they strike the string, Theyr dance, they revel, and they sing, Till the rude turrets shake and ring. IV. Me lists not at this tide declare The splendour of a spousal rite, How mustered in the chapel fair Both maid and matron,squire and knight; Me lists not tell of owches rare, Of mantles green, and braided hair, And kirtles furred with miniver; Wh-at plumage waved the altar round, How spurs, and ringing chainlets, sound: And hard it were for bard to speak The changeful hue of Margaret's cheek; That lovely hue, which comes and flies, As awe and shame alternate rise

Page  69 ANTO |. bLAST.31NSTREL.'V. Some bards have sung, the Ladye high'Chapel or altar came not nigh; Nor durst the rites of spousal grace, So much she feared each holy place. False slanders these:-1 trust right well She wrought not by forbidden spell; For mighty words and signs have power O'er sprites in planetary hour: Yet scarce I praise their venturous part, Who tamper with such dangerous art. But this for faithful truth I say: The Ladye by the altar stood, Of sable velvet her array, And on her head a crimson hood, With pearls embroidered and entwined, Guarded with gold, with ermine lined; A merlin sat upon her wrist, Held by a leash of silken twist. ]V I~~~~V The spousal rites were ended soon:'Twas now the merry hour of noon, And in the lofty arched hall Was spread the gorgeous festival. Steward and squire, with heedful haste, Marshalled the rank of every guest; Pages, with ready blade, were there, The mighty meal to carve and share: O'er capon, heron-shew, and crane, And princely peacock's gilded train,s And o'er the boar-head, garnished brave, And cygnet from -St Mary's wave; O'er ptarmigan and venison, The priest had spoke his benison. Then rose the riot and the din, Above, beneath, without, within! For from the lofty balcony, Rung trumpet, shalm, and psaltery; Their clanging bowls old warriors quaffed, Loudly they spoke, and loudly laughed; Whispered young knights, in tone more mild, T o ladies fair, and ladies smiled. S

Page  70 0 t O LAY OF TX X" T|O L The hooded hawks, high perched on beam, The clamour joined with whistling scream, And flapped their wings, and shook their bells, In concert with the stag-hounds' yells. Round go the flasks of ruddy wine, rom Bourdeaux, Orleans, or the Rhine; Their tasks the busy sewers ply, And all is mirth and revelry, The Goblin Page, omitting still No opportunity of ill, Strove now, while blood ran hot and higlk To rouse debate and jealousy; Till Conrad, lord of Wolfenstein, By nature fierce, and warm with wine, And now in humour highly crossed, About some steeds his band had lost, High words to words succeeding still, Smote with his gauntlet stout Hunthil;. A hot and hardy Rutherford, Whom men called Dickon Draw-the-Sword He took it on the Page's saye, Hunthill had driven these steeds away. Then Howard, Home, and Douglas rosqe The kindling discord to compose: Stern Rutherford right little said, But bit his glove, and shook his head. — A fortnight thence, in Inglewood, Stout Conrad, cold, and drenched in bloocd His bosom gored with many a wound, Was by a woodman's lyme-dog found; Unknown the manner of his death, Gone was his brand, both sword and sheath: But ever from that time,'twas said, That DI)ckoa wore a Cologne blade. j IIL The Dwarf, who feared his master's eye Might his foul treachery espie, INov sought the castle buttery, Where many a yeoman, bold and freer Revelled as merrily and well A's those that. sat ia lordly sae 1e...._____ __.... O _.__. __,,.._.........

Page  71 CANTO VI. LAST MINSTREL, Watt Tinlinn, there, did frankly raisa The pledge to Arthur Fire-the-Braes; And he, as by his breeding bound, To Howard's merry-men sent it round. To quit them, on the English side, Red Roland Forster loudly cried, "A deep carouse to yon fair bride!" At every pledge, from vat and pail, Foamed forth, in floods, the nut-brown-ale; While shout the riders every one, Such day of mirth ne'er cheered their clan, Since old Buccleuch the name did gain, When in the cleuch the buck was ta'en. The wily Page, with vengeful thought, Remembered him of Tinlinn's yew, And swore, it should be dearly bought, That ever he the arrow drew. First, he the yeoman did molest, With bitter gibe and taunting jest; Told, how he fled at Solway strife, And how Hob Armstrong cheered his wife; Then, shunning still his powerful arm, At unawares he wrought him harm; From trencher stole his choicest cheer, Dashed from his lips his can of beer, Then, to his knee sly creeping on, With bodkin pierced him to the bone: The venomed wound, and festering joint, Long after rued that bodkin's point. The startled yeoman swore and spurned, And board and flaggons overturned; Riot and clamour wild began; Back to the hall the urchin ran; Took in a darkling nook his post, And grinned and muttered, "Lost! lostl lost'" L By this, the Dame, lest further fray Should mar the concord of the day, Had bid the Minstrels tune their lay. And first stept forth old Albert Grmme, The Minstrel of that ancient name:

Page  72 72 LAY OF THE CANrO VI Was none who struck the harp so well, Witlin the land Debateable; Well friended too, his hardy kin, Whoever lost, were sure to win; They sought the beeves, that made their broth, In Scotland and in England both. In homely guise, as nature bade, His simple song the Borderer said. XL ALBERT GRAEMILl It was an English ladye bright, The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, And she would marry a Scottish knight, For- Love will still be lord of all. Blithely they saw the rising sun, When he shone fair on Carlisle wall, But they were sad ere day was done, Though Love was still the lord of all Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall; Her brother gave but a flask of wine, For ire that Love was lord of all. For she had lands, both meadow and lee, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, And he swore her death, ere hle would see A Scottish knight the lord of all! XII. That wine she had. not tasted well, The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall; When dead, in her true love's arms she fell, For Love was still the lord of all. He pierced her brother to the heart, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall; — So perish all, would true love part, That Love may still be lord of all!. And then he took the cross divine, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, And died for her sake in Palestine, So Love was still the lord of all. i! 1I

Page  73 The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, Pray for their souls, who died for love, For Love shall still be lord of alll XIIL As ended Albert's simple lay, Arose a bard of loftier port; IFor sonnet, rhyme,and roundelay, Renowned in haughty Henry's court: There rung thy harp, unrivalled long, Elitztraver of the silver song. The gentle Surrey loved his lyreWho has not heard of Surrey's fame? His was the hero's soul of fire, And his the bard's immortal name, And his was love, exalted high By all the glow of chivalry. XIV. They sought, together, climes afar, And oft, within some olive grove, When evening came, with twinkling star, They sung of Surrey's absent. love. His step the Italian peasant staid, And deemed that spirits from on high, Round where some hermit saint was laid, Were breathing heavenly melody; So sweet did harp aud voice combine, To praise the name of Geraldine. XXV. Fitztraverl 0 what tongue may say The pangs thy faithful bosom knew, When Surrey, of the deathless lay, Ungrateful Tudor's sentence slew? Regardless of the tyrant's frown, His harp called wrath and vengeance down. He left, for Naworth's iron towers, Windsor's green glades, and courtly bowers, And, faithful to his patron's name, With Howard still Fitztraver came; Lord William's foremost favourite he, And chief of all his minstrelsy. i j- -: —- --- -- -1 5.

Page  74 71 LAY OF TUB CANTO VL XVL FITZTRAVER.'Twas All-souls' eve, and Surrey's heart beat high; He heard the midnight-bell with anxious start, Which told the mystic hour approaching nigh, When wise Cornelius promised, by his art, To show to him the ladye of his heart, Albeit betwixt them roared the ocean grim; Yet so the sage had hight to play his part, That he should see her form in life and limb, And mark, if still she loved, and still she thought of him. XYIL Dark was the vaulted room of gramarye, To which the wizard led the gallant knighb, Save that before a mirror, huge and high, A hallowed taper shed a glimmering light On mystic implements of magic might, Ol cross, and character, and talisman, And almagest, and altar, nothing bright: For fitful was'the lustre, pale and wan, As watch-light, by the bed of'some departing man. XVIIL But soon, within that mirror, huge and high, Was seen a self-emitted light to gleam; And forms upon its breast the earl'gan spy, Cloudy and indistinct, as feverish dream; Till, slow arranging, and defined, they seem To form a lordly and a lofty room, Part lighted by a lamp with silver beam, Placed by a couch of Agra's silken loom, And part by moonshine pale, and part was hid in gloom. Fair all the pageant-but how passing fair The slender form, which lay on couch of Ind! O'er her white bosom strayed her hazel hair, Pale her dear cheek, as if for love she pined;

Page  75 CiiTO y. LAST MINSrREL, 75 All in her night-robe loose, she lay relind, And, pensive, read from tablet eburnine Some strain, that seemed her inmost soul to find:That favoured strain was Surrey's raptured line That fair and lovely form, the Ladye Geraldine. Slow rolled the clouds upon the lovely form, And swept the goodly vision all awaySo royal envy rolled the murky storm O'er my beloved Master's glorious day, Thou jealous, ruthless tyrant! Heaven repay On thee, and on thy children's latest line, The wild caprice of thy despotic sway, The gory bridal bed, the plundered shrine, The murdered Surrey's blood, the tears of Geraldine! XXL Both Scots, and Southern chiefs, prolong Applauses of Fitztraver's song: These hated Henry's name as death, And those still held the ancient faith.. — Then, from his seat, with lofty air, Rose Harold, bird of brave St Clair; St Clair, who, fiasting high at Home, Had with that Lord to battle come. Harold was born where restless seas Howl round the storm-swept Orcades;. 1. Where erst St Clairs held princely sway, O'er isle and islet, strait and bay; — Still nods their palace to its fall, Thy pride and sorrow, fair Kirkwall! — Thence oft he marked fierce Pentland rave, As if grim Odin rode her wave; And watched, the whilst, with visage pale And throbbing heart, the struggling sail; For all of wonderful and wild Had rapture for the lonely child. XXII. And much of wild and wonderfil, these rude isles, might Fancy caull t

Page  76 76 LAT OF THE CAmro VT. For thither came, in times afar, Stern Lochlin's sons of roving war, The Norsemen, trained to spoil and blood, Skilled to prepare the raven's food; Kings of the main their leaders brave, Their barks the dragons of the wave. And there, in many a stormy vale,. The Scald had told his wondrous tale And many a Runic column high Had witnessed grim idolatry. And thus had Harold, in his youth, Learned many a Saga's rhymeuncouth, Of that Sea-Snake, tremendous curled, Whose monstrous circle girds the world; Of those dread Maids, whose hideous yell Maddens the battle's bloody swell; Of chiefs, who, guided through the gloom By the pale death-lights of the tomb, Ransacked the graves of warriors old, Their faulchions wrenched from corpses' hold, Waked the deaf tomb with war's alarms, And bade the dead arise to arms! With war and wonder all on flame, To Roslin's bowers young Harold came, Where, by sweet glen and greenwood tree, He learned a milder minstrelsy; Yet something of the Northern spell Mixed with the softer numbers well. XXIII. HAROLD. j O listen, listen, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell: Soft is the note, and sad the lay, That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. -"Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! And, gentle ladye, deign to stayl Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.'The blackening wave is edged with white; To inch* and rock the sea-mews fly; * Inch, Isle.

Page  77 ftATO V'L LA]JST MlNSTRnL, 77 The fishers have heard the Water Sprite, Whose screams forbode that wreck is nigh. "Last night the gifted seer did view A we. shroud swathed round ladye gay; Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch: Why cross the gloomy firth to-day!" l'Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir To night at Roslin leads the ball, But that my Ladye-mother there Sits lonely in her castle-hall. "'Tis not because the ring they ride, And Lindesay at the ring rides well, But that my sire the wine will chide. If'tis not filled by Rosabelle" O'er Roslin all that dreary night A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;'Twas broader than the watch-fire light, And redder than the bright moon-beam. It glared on Roslin's castled rock, It ruddieO all Lse copse-wood glen;'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oalk, And seen from caverned Hawthornden. Seemed all on fire that chapel proud, Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie; Each Baron, for a sable shroud, Sheathed in his iron panoply. Seemed all on fire within, around, Deep sacristy and altar's pale; ~Shone every pillar foliage-bound, And glimmered all the dead men's mail Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fairSo still they blaze, when fate is nigh The lordly line of high St Clair. There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold Lie buried within that proud chapelle; Each one the holy vault doth holdBut the sea holds lovely Rosabelle. And each St Clair was buried there, With candle, with book, and with knell;

Page  78 LAY OF ThlM CANITO f, Bat the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung, The dirge of lovely Rosabelle. XXV. So sweet was Harold's piteous lay, Scarce marked the guests the darkened hall, Though, long before the sinking day, A wondrous shade involved them all: It was not eddying mist or fog, Drained by the sun from fen or bog; Of no eclipse had sages told; And yet, as it came on apace, Each one could scarce his neighbour's face, Could scarce his own stretched hand, behold. A secret horror checked the feast, And chilled the soul of every guest; Even the high Dame stood half aghast, She knew some evil on the blast; The elvish Page fell to the ground, [foundr And, shuddering, muttered, "Found! found! ] KALXXVI Then sudden through the darkened air A flash of lightning came; So broad, so bright, so red the glare, The castle seemed on flame; Glanced every rafter of the hall, Glanced every shield upon the wall; Each trophied beam, each sculptured stone) Were instant seen, and instant gone; Full through the guests' bedazzled band Resistless flashed the levin-brand, And filled the hall with smouldering smoke, As on the elvish Page it broke. It broke, with thunder long and loud, Dismayed the brave, appalled the proud, IFrom sea to sea the larum rtlng; On Berwick wall, and at Carlisle withal. To arms the startled warders sprung. When ended was the dreadful roar, The elvish Dwarf was seen no more I XXVIL Some heard a voice in Branksome Hall Some saw a sighllt not seen by aili, Ii

Page  79 WHo VL LA[ST MINSTRE, L. That dreadful voice was heard by some, Cry, with loud summons, " GYLBIN, COME! And on the spot where burst the bralld, Just where the Page had flung him duwna, Some saw an arm, and some a hand, And some the waving of a gown. The guests in silence prayed and shook, And terror dimmed each lofty look: But none of all the astonished train Was so dismayed as Deloraine; His blood did freeze, his brain did burn,'Twas feared his mind would ne'er returlns For he was speechless, ghastly, wan, Like him, of whom the story ran, Who spoke the spectre-hound in Man. At length, by fits, he darkly told, With broken hint, and shuddering coldsThat he had seen, right certainly, A shape with amice wrapped around, With a wrought Spanish baldric bound, Lihe a pilgrim from beyond the sea; And knew-but how it mattered not — It was the wizard, Michael Scott. XXYIIL The anxious crowd, with horror pale, All trembling, heard the wondrous tale: No sound was made, no word was spoke, Till noble Angus silence broke; And he a solemn sacred plight Did to St Bryde of Douglas make, That he a pilgrimage would take To Melrose Abbey, for the sake Of Michael's restless sprite, Then each, to ease his troubled breast, To some blessed saint his prayers addressed — Some to St Modan made their vows, Some to St Mary of the Lowes, Some to the Holy Rood of Lisle, Some to our Lady of the Isle; Each did his patron witness make, That he such pilgrimage would take. And monks should sing, and bells should toll, All for the weal of Michael's soul. While vows were ta'en, and prayers were prayed

Page  80 so0 LAY OF THE CAN.O IL'Tis said the noble Dame, dismayed, Renounced, for aye, dark magic's aid. X XID Nought of the bridal will I tell. Which after in short space befell; Nor how brave sons and daughters fair Blessed Teviot's Flower and Cranstoun's heir; After such dreadful scene,'twere vain To wake the note of mirth again; Of penitence and prayer divine, When pilgrim-chiefs, in sad array, Sought Melrose holy shrine. xxX. With naked foot, and sackcloth vest, And arms enfolded on his breast, Did every pilgrim go; The standers-by might hear uneath, Footstep, or voice, or high-drawn breath, Through all the lengthened row: No lordly look, no martial stride, Gone was their glory, sunk their pride, Forgotten their renown; Silent and slow, like ghosts, they glide To the high altar's hallowed side, And there they kneeled them down; Above the suppliant chieftains wave The banners of departed brave; Beneath the lettered stones were laid The ashes of their fathers dead; IFrom many a garnished niche around, Stern saints, and tortured martyrs frowned. XXXL And slow up the dim aisle afar, With sable cowl and scapular, And snow-white stoles, in order due, The holy Fathers, two and two, In long procession came; Taper, and host, and book they bare, And holy banner, flourished fair

Page  81 CANcTO VL LAST MINSTREL. 81 With the Redeemer's name; Above the prostrate pilgrim band The mitred Abbot stretched his hand, And blessed them as they kneeled; With holy cross he signed them all, And prayed they might be sage in hall, And fortunate in field. Then mass was sung, and prayers' were said, And solemn requiem for the dead; And bells tolled out their mighty peal, For the departed spirit's weal; And ever in the. office close The hymn of intercession rose; And far the echoing aisles prolong The awful burthen of the song, — DIES IRAs, DIES ILLA, SOLVET 5AICLUM IN FAVILLA; While the pealing organ rung; Were it meet with sacred strain To close my lay, so light and vain, Thus the holy Fathers sung. HYMlN FOR THE DEAD. That day of wrath, that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay? How shall he meet that dreadful day? When, shrivelling like a parched scrolls The flaming heavens together roll; When louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dac.d O! on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be THou the trembling sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away I HUSHED is the harp-the Minstrel gone. And did he wander forth alone? Alone, in indigence and age, To linger out his pilgrimage? o —close beneath proud Newark's tower, Arose the Minstrel'slowly bower; - c —.~.. l~.-.__.__ ~_~~.___ ~___~~ __~ ~_~_~

Page  82 82 LAY OF THRE CArO YT A simple hut;. but there was seen The little garden. hedged with green, The cheerfil hearth, and lattice clean. There sheltered wanderers, by the blaze, 02b heard the tale of other days; For much he loved to ope, his door, And give thq aid he begged before. So passed the winter's day; bht still, Wihen summer smiled on sweet Bowhig, And July's eve, with balmy breath, Waved the blue-bells on Newark-heath When throstles sung in Hare-head shaw, And corn was green on Carterhaugh, And flourished, broad, Blackandro'% oaks The aged Harper's soul awoke! Then would he sing achievements high. And circumstance of chivalry, Till the rapt traveller would stay, IForgetful of the closing day; And noble youths, the strain to hear, Forsook the hunting of the deer; And Yarrow, as he rolled along, Bore burden to the Minstrers song.

Page  83 H j ]MARAVIION, A TALE OF FLODDEN FIELD. IN SIX CANTOS, ji~~~. ~ ~ ~Alas I that Scattish maid should slug r, I Hi ~ I x~The combat where her lover fell. ig~~ ~'1 ~Thk Scottish bard should wake the string, The t*iumph of our Aom to te l-xy~a~s i I~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Page  84 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY, LORD MONTAGUE, THIS ROMANCE IS IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. ADVERTISEMENT. IT is hardly to be expected, that an Author, whom the Public has honoured with some degree of applause, should not be again a trespasser on their kindness Yet the Author of MARMION must be supposed to feel some anxi. ety concerning its success, since he is sensible that he haz. ards, by this second intrusion, any reputation which his first Poem may have procured him. The present Story turns upon the private adventures of a fictitious character; but is called a Tale of Flodden Field, because the hero's fate is connected with that memorable defeat, and the causes which led to it. The design of the Author was, if possible, to apprise his readers, at the outset, of the date of his Story, and to prepare them for the manners of the Age in which it is laid. Any historieal narrative, far more an attempt at Epic composition, exceeded his plan of a Romantic Tale; yet he may be permitted to hope, from the popularity of THE LAY oG THEE LAsT fMINSTREL, that an Attempt to paint the manners of the feudal times, upon a broader scale, and in the course of a more interesting story, will not be unacceptable to the Public. The Poem opens about the commencement of August, and concludes with Me the defeat of Floddea, 4th Sepe 11. I - ~: —~~~-1- *,

Page  85 MARMION. INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. To WILLIAM STEWART ROSE, Esq. Ashestiel, Ettricke Porest. NOVE MBER'S sky is chill and drear, November's leaf is red and sear: Late, gazing down the steepy linn, That hems our little garden in, Low in its dark and narrow glen, You scarce the rivulet might ken, So thick the tangled green-wood grew, So feeble trilled the streamlet through: Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen Through bush and brier, no longer green, An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, Brawls over rock and wild cascade, And, foaming brown with doubled speed, Hulrries its waters to the Tweed. No longer Autumn's glowing red Upon our Forest hills is shed; No more, beneath the evening beam, [Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam; Away hath passed the heather-bell, That bloomed so rich on Needpath-fell; Sallow his brow, and russet bare Are now the sister-heights of Yare. The sheep, before the pinching heaven, To sheltered dale and down are driven, Where yet some faded herbage pines, And yet a watery sun-beam shines: In meek despondency they eye The withered sward and wintry sky, And far beneath their sunmer hill, Stray sadly by Glenkinnon's rill; The shepherd shifts his mantle's fold, And wraps him closer from the cold; His dogs no merry circles wheel, But, shivering, follow at his heel; i i g*~~

Page  86 A cowering glance they often cast, As deeper moans the gathering blast. My imps, though hardy, bold, and wild, As best befits the mountain child, Feel the sad influence of the hour, And wail the daisy's vanished flower; Their summer gambols tell, and mourn, And anxious ask,-Will spring retturn, And birds and lambs again be gay, And blossoms clothe the hawthorn spray? Yes, prattlers, yes. The daisy's'flowe Again shall paint your summer bower;b Again the hawthorn shall supply The garlands you delight to tie; The lambs upon the lea shall bound, The wild birds carol to the round, And while you frolic light as they,'Too shoit shall seem the summer day To mute and to material things New life revolving summer brings; The genial call dead Nature hears, And in her glory re-appears. But 0! my country's wintry state What second spring shall reuovate? What powerful call shall bid arise The buried warlike, and the wise; The mind, that thought for Britain's weal The hand, that grasped the victor steel? The vernal sun new life bestows Even on the meanest flower that blows; But vainly, vainly, may he shine, Where Glory weeps o'er NELSON'S shrine@ And vainly pierce the solemn gloom, That shrouds, 0 Pitt, thy hallowed tomb Deep graved in every British heart, O never let those names depart! Say to your sons, —Lo, here his grave, Who victor died on Gadite wave; To him, as to the burning levin, Short, bright, resistless course was given, Where'er his countrys foes were found, Was heard the fated thunder's sound, Till burst the bolt on yonder shore, olled, blazed, destroyed,-and was no rore.

Page  87 CAXTO XmOA. MN Nor mourn ye less his perished worth, Who bade the conqueror go forth, And launched that thunderbolt -of war On Egypt, Hafiia,* Trafalgar; Who, born to guide such high eiiapriiz, ]For Britain's weal was early wise;. Alasl to whom the Almighty gavt For Britain's sins, an early grave; His worth, who, in his mightiest hour, A bauble held the pride of power, Spurned at the -sordid lust of pelf, And served his Albion for herself; Who, when the frantic crowd amain Strained at subjection's bursting rein. O'er their wild mood full conquest gli ned., The pride, he would not crush, restr.ilcted Showed their fierce zeal a worthier e;luse., lawz, And brought the freeman's arm to aid the i'eemanr's Hadst thou but lived, though stripi'ld of.powrt, A watchman on the lonely tower, Thy thrilling trump had roused the land, When fraud or danger were at hand'; By thee, as by the beacon-light, Our pilots had kept course'aright; As some proud column, though alone, Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne, Now is the stately column broke, The beacon-light is quenched in smoke, The trumpet's silver sound is still, The warder sileht on the hill'! Oh, think, how to his latest day, When Death, just hovering, claimed his prcy, With Palinure's unaltered mood, Firm at his dangerous post he stood, Each call for needful rest repelled, With dying hand the rudder held, Till, in his fall, with fateful sway, The steerage of the realm gave way! Then, while on Britain's thousand plaihk One unpolluted church remains, Whose peaceful bells ne'er sent around The bloody toesin's maddening sound, Copenhagen,

Page  88 H I *8 JMAlRMtO. CA)1T o. But still, upon the hallowed day, Convoke the swains to praise and pray; While faith and civil peace are dear, Grace this cold marble with a tear,He, who preserved them, PITT, lies here! Nor yet suppress the generous sigh, Because his Rival slumbers nigh; Nor be thy requiescat dumb, Lest it be said o'er Fox's tomb. For talents mourn, untimely lost, When best employed, and wanted most; Mourn genius high, and lore profound, And wit that loved to play, not wound; And all the reasoning powers divine, To penetrate, resolve, combine; And feelings keen, and fancy's glow, — They sleep with him who sleeps below; And, if thou mourn'st they could not save From error him who owns this grave, Be every harsher thought suppressed, And sacred be the last long rest. Here, where the end of earthly things Lays heroes, patriots, bards, and kings; Where stiff the hand, and still the tongue, Of those who fought. and spoke, and sung; Here, where the fretted aisles prolong I I The distant notes of holy song, As if some angel spoke agen, All peace on earth, good-will to men; If ever from an English heart, O here let prejudice depart, And, partial feeling cast aside, Record that Fox a Briton died! When Europe crouched to France's yoke, And Austria bent, and Prussia broke, And the firm Russian's purpose brave Was bartered by a timorous slave, Even then dishonour's peace he spurned, The sullied olive-branch returned, Stood for his country's glory fast, And nailed her colours to the mast. Heaven, to reward his firmness, gave, A portion in this honoured grave; And ne'er held marble in its trust Qf two such wondrous men the dust,

Page  89 CANTO i. MARMION. *8 With more than mortal powers endowed, How high they soared above the crowd! Theirs was no common party race, Jostling by dark intrigue for place; Like fabled Gods, their mighty war Shook realms and nations in its jar; Beneath each banner proud to stand, Looked up the noblest of the land, Till through the British world were known The names of PrTT and Fox alone. Spells of such force no wizard grave E'er framed in dark Thessalian cave, Though his could drain the ocean dry, And force the planets from the sky. These spells are spent, and, spent with these The wine of life is on the lees, Genius, and taste, and talent gone, For ever tombed beneath the stone, iWhere,-taming thought to human pride! — The mighty chiefs sleep side by side. I I Drop upon Fox's grave the tear,'Twill trickle to his rival's bier; O'er PITT's the mournful requiem sound, And Fox's shall the notes rebound. The solemn echo seems to cry,"Here let their discord with them die; "Speak not for those a separate doom, "Whom Fate made brothers in the tomb, "But search the land of living men, "Where wilt thou find their like agen?" Rest, ardent Spirits! till the cries Of dying Nature bid Trou rise; Not even your Britain s groans can pierce The leaden silence of your hearse: Then, 0 how impotent and vain This grateful tributary strain! Though not unmarked from northern clime, Ye heard the Border Minstrel's rhyme: His Gothic harp has o'er you rung; The bard you deigned to praise, your deathleso names has sung. Stay yet, illusion, stay awhile, My wildered fancy still beguile! From this high theme how can I part,. Ere half unloaded is my heart?

Page  90 90 KARMION, CANTO L eor all the tears e'er sorrow drew, And all the raptures fancy knew, And all the keener rush of blood, That throbs through bard in bard-like mood, Were here a tribute mean and low, Though all their mingled streams could flowWoe, wonder, and sensation high, In one spring-tide of ecstasy.It will not be-it may not lastThe vision of enchantment's past: Like frost-work in the morning iay, The fancied fabric melts away; BEach Gothic arch, memorial stone, And long, dim, lofty aisle are gone, And, lingering last, deception deeli., The choir's high sounds die on n)y', ir. Now slow return the lonely down, The silent pastures bleak and browvi, The farm begirt with copse-wool wi!ll, The gambols of each frolic child, Mixing their shrill cries with the tone Of Tweed's dark waters rushing n11. Prompt on unequal tasks to run, Thus Nature disciplines her son: Meeter, she says, for me to stray, And waste the solitary day, In plucking from yon fen the reed, And watching it float down the T eed; Or idly list the shrilling lay With which the milk-maid cheers her wiy, Marking its cadence rise:and fail, As from the field, beneath her pail, She trips it down the uineven diade. Meeter for me, by yonder cairn, The ancient shepherd's tale to le~i-h, Though oft he stop in rustic fear, Lest his old legends'tire the ear Of one, who, in his simple mind, May boast of book-learned taste refine], But thou, my friend, canst fitly tell, (For few have read romance so well) How still the legehdary lay O'er poet's bosom hold its sway; How on the ancient minstrel strain Time lays his Dalsied hand in aiam;

Page  91 And how our hearts at doughty -deeds, By warriors wrought in steely weeds, Still throb for fear and pity's sake, As when the Champion of the Lake Enter's Morgana's fated house, Or in the Chapel Perilous, Despising spells and demons' fo'ce, Holds converse with the unburied CorseOr when, Dame Ganore's grace to move (Alasl that lawless was their love) He sought proud Tarquin in his (len, And freed'fll sixty knights; or w-he, A sinful man, and unconfessed, He took the Sangreal's holy quest, And, slumbering, saw the vision high, -lie might not view with waking eye. The mightiest chiefs of British song Scorned not such legends to prolong: They gleam through Spenser's elfin dream, And mix in Milton's heavenly theme; And Dryden, in immortal strain, Had raised the Table Round again, But that a ribald king and court Bade him toil on, to make them spor'; Demanded for their niggard pay, But for their souls, a looser lay, Licentious satire, song, and play; The world defrauded of the high desig;l, Profaned the God-given strength, alnd marred the lofty ine. Warmed by such names, well may we thwn, Though dwindled sons of little men, Essay to break a feeble lance In the fair fields of old romance; Or seek the moated castle's cell, Where long through talisman and spell, While tyrants ruled, and damsels wept, Thy Genius, Chivalry, hath slept: There sound the harpings of the North, Till he awake and sally forth, On venturous quest to prick again, In all his arms, with all his train, Shield, lance, and brand, and plume, and scab E'ay, giant, dragon, squire, and d(varf, And wizard with his wand of might, And errant maid on palf'ey white.

Page  92 M3AiRM,10 o Arouncl the Genius weave their spells, Pure Love, who scarce his passion tells Mystery, half veiled and half revealed; And Honour with his spotless shield; Attention, with fixed eye; al d Fear, That loves the tale she shr;n ks to hear; And gentle Courtesv";uv Yinth, Unchanged by wietringsj time. or death; And Valour, lon-mettled lord, Leaning upon hi own good'sworr Wel has thy fair achievement showa A worthy meed may thus be wo0I Ytene's oaks-beneath whose shade Their theme the merry minstrels mnade Of Ascapart, aud Bevis bold9 And that Red King, who, while ot old Through Boldrewood the chase he let 4 By his loved huntsman's arrow bled-= Ytene's oaks have heard again Renewed such legendary strain; 1For thou hast sung, how Ile of Gar, That Amadis so famed in hall~ For Oriana, foiled in fight The Necromancer's felon might-; And well in modern verse lsmtr wowe Partenopex's mystic love; Hear then, attentive to my tay. A knightly tale of Albion's etide5s.xta CANTO FIRS I} HE CADTLM DAY set on Norham's castled steep, And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, And Cheviot's mountains lone: The battled towers, the Donjon Keep, The loop-hole grates where captives wee, The flanking walls that round it swee; In yellow lustre shone~ The warriors on the turrets higlh Moving athwart the evening slky

Page  93 OpiTO LT MAUMION. Seemed forms of giant heights Their armour, as it caught the rays, Flashed back again the western blaze, In lines of dazzling light, IL St George's banner, broad and gay, Now faded, as the fading ray Less bright, and less, was flung; The evening gale had scarce the power To wave it on the Donjon tower, So heavily it hung. The scouts had parted on their search, The castle gates were barr'd; Above the gloomy portal arch, Timing his footsteps to a march, The warder kept his guard, Low humming, as he paced along, Some ancient Border gathering song.. i'I A distant tranmplingsound he hears; He.looks abroad, and soon appears, O'er Horncliffhill, a,plump of spears, Beneath a pennon gay; A horseman,darting from the crowd, Like lightning from a summer cloud, Spurs on his mettled courser proud, Before the dark array. Beneath the sable palisade, That closed the castle barricade, His bugle-horn he blew; The warder hasted from the wall, And warned the Captain in the halt, For well the blast he knew; And joyfully that Knight did call, To sewer, squire, and seneschal. IV. Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie, Bring pasties of the doe, And quickly make the entrance free, And bid my heralds ready be, And every minstrel sound his glee, And all aur trumpets blow;, 10 _____, _ _. _ __ _

Page  94 -IAR'rOM RTT And, from the platform, spare ye not To fire a noble salvo-shot: Lord Marmion waits below." — Then to the Castle's lower ward Sped forty yeomen tall, The iron-studded gates unbarred, Raised the portcullis' ponderous guard, The lofty palisade unsparred, And let the draw-bridge fal V. Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode, Proudly his red-roan charger trod, His helm hung at the saddle-bow; Well, by his visage, you might know He was a stalworth knight, and keen And had in many a battle been; The scar on his brown eheek revealed A token true of Bosworth field; His eye-brow dark, and eye of fire. Showed spirit proud, and prompt to ire; Yet lines of thought upon his cheek, Did deep design and counsel speak. His forehead, by his casque worn bare, His thick moustache, and curly hair, Coal-black, and grizzled here and there, But more through toil than age; His square-turned joints, and strength of limb Showed him no carpet knight so trim, But, in close fight, a champion grim, In camps, a leader sage. VL/ Well was he armed from head to heel, In mail, and plate, of Milan steel; But his strong helm, of mighty cost, Was all with burnish'd gold emboss'd; Amid the plumage of the crest, A falcon hovered on her nest, With wings outspread, and forward breasts E'en such a falcon, on his shield4 Soared sable in an azure field: The golden legend bore aright, "WHO CHECKS AT ME, TO DEATiH IS DIGREZ, Blue was the charger's broidered rein; Blue ribbons decked his arching mana

Page  95 CAro t. AMION. 95 VIL Behind him rode two gallant squirens Of noble name, and knightly sires; They burned the gilded spurs to claim; For well could each a war-horse tame, Could draw the bow, the-sword could sway And lightly bear the ring away; Nor less with courteous precepts stored, Could dance in hall, and carve at board, And frame love ditties passing rare, And sing them to a lady fair. Four men-at-arms came at their backs, With halberd, bill, and battle-axe: They bore Lord Marmion's lance so strong And led his sumpter mules along, And ambling palfrey, when at need Him listed ease his battle-steed. The last, and trustiest of the four, On high his forky pennon bore; Like swallow's tail, in shape and hue, Flutter'd the streamer glossy blue, Where, blazoned sable, as before, The towering falcon seemed to soar. Last, twenty yeomen, two and two, In hosen black, and jerkins blue, With falcons broider'd on each breast, Attended on their lord's behest. Each, chosen for an archer good, Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood; Each one a six-foot bow could bend, And far a cloth-yard shaft could send: Each held a boar-spear tough and strong And at their belts their quivers rung. Their dusty palfreys, and array, Showed they had marched a weary way'Tis meet that I should tell you now, I-low fairly armed, and ordered how, The soldiers of the guard, With musquet, pike, and morion,

Page  96 96 MARMoN. CANTO I. To welcome noble; Marmion, Stood in the castle-yard; Minstrels and trumpeters were there, The gunner held his linstock yare, For welcome-shot prepared: Entered the train, and snch a clang, As then through all his turrets rang, Old Norham never heard. The guards their morrice-pikes advanced, The trumpets flourished brave, The cannon from the ramparts glance(l, And thundering welcome gave. A blythe salute, in martial sort, The minstrels well might sound, For, as Lord Marmion crossed the court, He scattered angels round. " Welcome to Norham, Marmion! Stout heart, and open handl Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, Thou flower of English land!"XL Two pursuivants, whom tabards deck, With silver scutcheon round their neck, Stood on the steps of stone, By which you reach the Donjon gate, And there, with herald pomp and state, They hailed Lord Marmion: They hailed him Lord of Fontenaye, Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye, Of Tamworth tower and town; And he, their courtesy to requite, Gave them a chain of twelve marks weight All as he lighted down. " Now largesse, largesse, Lord Marmnion, Knight of the crest of gold! A blazon'd shield, in battle won, Ne'er guarded heart so bold."XI. They marshall'd him to the castle-hall, Where the guests stood all aside, And loudly flourished the trumpet-call, And tiAw heralds loudly cried,

Page  97 CANTO T. MARMrON. 1| -— " Room, lordlings, room for Lord Marmtion, With the crest and helm of gold! Full well we know the trophies won In the lists at Cottiswold: There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove'Gainst Marmnion's force to stand; To him he lost his ladye-love, And to the king his land. Ourselves beheld the listed field, A sight both sad and fair; We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield, And saw his saddle bare; We saw the victor win the crest He wears with worthy pride; And on the gibbet-tree, reversed, His foeman's scutcheon tied. Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight! Room, room, ye gentles gay, For him who conquered in the right, Marmion of Fontenayel"1 CXIIL Then stepped to meet that noble lord, Sir Hugh the Heron bold, Baron of Twisell, and of Ford, And Captain of the Hold. He led Lord Marmion to the deas, Raised' o'er the pavement high, And placed him in the upper place- They feasted full and high: The whiles a Northern harper rude Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud, " How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys I Stout Willinondswick, And Hard-riding Dick, And Hughie of Hawdon, and Will o' the Wadl, Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhautgh, And taken his life at the Deadnman's-shatw." Scantly Lord Marmion's ear could brook The harper's barbarous lay; Yet much he praised the pains he took, And well those pains did pay. For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain, By knight should ne'er be heard in vain. XIV. " Now, good Lord Marmion," HtIeron says, "Of your fair courtesy, 10* _ _I _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _

Page  98 MARMION, CAN TO ti I pray you bide some little space, In this poor tower with me. Here may you keep your arms fiomr rust. May breathe your war-horse wci; Seldom hath pass'd a week, but giuL.t, Or feat of arms befell: The Scots can rein a mettled steed, And love to couch a spear;- i St George! a stirring life they lead, That have such neighbours near. i Then stay with us a little space, Our northern wars to learn; I pray you for your lady's grace." Lord Marmion's brow grew stern. XV. The Captain mark'd his altered look, And gave a squire the sign; A mighty wassel bowl he took, And crown'd it high with wine. " Now pledge me here, Lord Marinion: But first I pray thee fair, Where hast thou left that Page of tlline, That used to serve thy cup of wine, Whose beauty was so rare? When last in Raby towers we met, The boy I closely eyed, And often.marked his cheeks were wet With tears he fain would hide: His was no rugged horse-boy's hand, To burnish shield, oi sharpen brand, Or saddle battle-steed; But meeter seemed for lady fair, To fan her cheek, or curl her hair, Or through embroidery, rich and rare, The slender silk to lead: His skin was fair, his ringlets gold, His bosom-when he sigh'd, The russet doublet's rugged fold Could scarce repel its pride! Say, hast thou given that lovely youth To serve in lady's bower? Or was the gentle page, in sooth, A gentle paframourP" — XVI. i Lord Marmion ill could brook such jet~j IIe rolled his kindling eye,

Page  99 CANJTO T.'3!A1T OV. With pain his rising wrath suppressed, Yet made a calm reply: "That boy thou thought'st so goodly fair, lie might not brook the northern air. More of his fate if thou would'st learn,. I left him sick in Lindisfarn: Enough of him.-But, Heron, say, Why does thy lovely lady gay Disdain to grace the hall to-day T Or has that dame, so fair and sage, Gone on some pious pilgrimage?" —He spoke in covert scorn, forfanme Whispered light tales of Heron's danla. XVIL Unmarked, at least unrecked, the taunt, Careless the Knight replied,' No bird, whose feathers gayly flaunt, Delights in cage to bide; Norham is grim, and grated clowe, Hemmed in by battlement and fosse, And many a darksome tower; And better loves my lady bright To sit in liberty and light, In fair Queen Margaret's bower. We hold our greyhound in our hand, Our falcon on our glove; But where shall we find leash or band, For dame that loves to rove? Let the wild falcon soar her swing, She'll stoop when she has tired her wing"-._ XVIIL Nay, if with Royal James's bride'Che lovely Lady Heron bide, Behold me here a messenger, Your tender greetings prompt to bear; For, to the Scottish court addressed, I journey at our king's behest, For me, and mine. a trusty guide. I have not ridden in Scotland since James backed the cause of that mock prince, Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit, Who on the gibbet paid the cheat.

Page  100 10 IA}1MIONt CANTO I Then did I march with Surrey's power, What time we razed old Ayton tower. — XIx. "For such like need, my lord,. I trow, Norham can find you guides enow; F or here be some have pricked as far On Scottish ground., as to Dunbar; Have drunk the monks of St Bothan's ale, And driven the beeves of Lauderdale; Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods, And given them light to set their hoods.""Now, in good sooth," Lord Marmion cricd, "Were I in warlike-wise to ride, A better guard I would not lack, Than your stout forayers at my back: But, as in form of peace I go, A friendly messenger, to know, Why through all Scotland, near and far, Their king is mustering troops for war, The sight of plundering Border spears Might justify suspicious fears, And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil, Break out in some unseemly broil; A herald were my fitting guide; Or friar, sworn in peace to bide; Or pardoner, or travelling priest, Or strolling pilgrim, at the least."XXL The Captain mused a little space, And passed his hand across his face. -" Fain would I find the guide you wank. But ill may spare a pursuivant, The only men that safe can ride Mine errands on the Scottish side. Then, though a bishop built this fort, Few holy brethren here resort; Even our good chaplain, as I ween, Since our last siege, we have not seen: The mass he might not sing or say, Upon one stinted meal a-day; So, safe he sat in Durham aisle, And prayed for our success the while.

Page  101 re r.:ARtroy. S0! Our Norham vicar, woe betide, Is all too well in case to ride. The priest of Shoreswood-he could rein The wildest war-horse in your train; But then, no spearman in the hall Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl. Friar John of Tillmouth were the man, A blithesome brother at the can, A welcome guest in hall and bower, He knows each castle, town, and tower, In which the wine and ale is good,'Twixt Newcastle and Holy-rood. But that good maunas ill befalls, Hath seldom left our castle walls, Since on the vigil of St Bede, In evil hour, he crossed the Tweed, To teach Dame Alison her creed. Old Bughtrig found him with his wife; And John, an enemy to strife, Sans frock and hood, fled for his life. The jealous churl hath deeply swore, That, if again he ventures o'er, He shall shrieve penitent no more. Little he loves such risques, I know; Yet, in your guard, perchance will go.9 XXIIL Young Selby, at the fair hall-board, Carved to his uncle, and that lord, And reverently took up the word. "Kind uncle, woe were we each one, If harm should hap to Brother John. lie is a man of mirthful speech, Can many'a game and gambol teach; Full well at tables can he play, And sweep at bowls the stake away, None can a lustier carol bawl, The needfullest among us all, When time hangs heavy in the hall, And snow comes thick at Christmas tide, And we can neither-hunt, nor ride A foray on the Scottish side. The vowed revenge of Bughtrig rude, May end in worse than loss of hood. ]Let Friar John, in safety,still In chimney-corner snore his fill, RBoast hissing crabs, or flaggons swill;. i!

Page  102 102 MANMON. 6 I Last night, to Norham there came one, Will better guide Lord Marmion." —'Nephew," quoth Heron, "by my fay,,f Well hast thou spoke; say forth thy sanyd XXIII. "Here is a holy Palmer come, From Salem first, and last from Rome. One, that hath kissed the blessed tomb And visited each holy shrine, On hills of Armenie hath been, Where Noah's ark may yet be seen; By that Red Sea, too, hath he trod, Which parted at the prophet's rod; In Sinai's wilderness he saw The Mount, where Israel heard the law, Mid thunder-dint, and flashing levin, And shadows, mists, and darkness, given. He shows Saint James's cockle-shell, Of fair Montserrat, too, can tell; And of that Grot where Olives nod; Where, darling of each heart and eye, From all the youth of Sicily, Saint Rosalie retired to God. " To stout Saint George of Norwich mer, Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury, Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede, For his sins' pardon hath he prayed. He knows the passes of the North, And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth;. Little he eats, and long will wake, And drinks but of the stream or lake. This were a guide o'er moor and dale.: But, when our John hath quaffed his ale As little as the wind that blows, And warms itself against his nose, Kens he, or cares, which way he goes." — XXv. " Gramercyt'quoth Lord Mannrmio, "Full loth were I, that Friar Juh&, That venerable man, for me, Were placed in fear, or Jeopardy. I.____.__ _ __ - q ___

Page  103 oAtRO I. MARMION. Ifthis same Palmer will me lead From hence to Holy-Rood, Like his good saint, I'll pay his meed, Instead of cockle-shell, or bead, With angels fair and good. I love such holy ramblers; still They know to charm a weary hill, With song, romance, or lay: Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest, Some lying legend at the least, They bring to cheer the way.""Ah! noble sir," young Selby said, And finger on his lip he laid, "This man knows much, perchance e'en more Than he could learn by holy lore. Still to himself he's muttering, And shrinks as at some unseen thing. Last night we listened at his cell; Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell, He murmured on till morn, howe'er No living mortal could be near. Sometimes I thought I heard it plain, As other voices spoke again. I cannot tell-I like it notFriar John bath told us it is;wrote, No conscience clear, and void of wrong, Can rest awake, and pray so long. Himself still sleeps before his beads Have marked ten aves and two creeds."XXVIL " Let pass," quoth Marmion; "bymyfa7, This man shall guide me on my way, Although the great arch-fiend and he Had sworn themselvesofcompany; So please you, gentle youth, to call This Palmer to the castle hall."The summoned Palmer came in place; His sable cowl o'erhung his face; In his black mantle was he clad, With Peter's keys, in cloth of red, On his broad shoulders wroughtl The scallop shell his cap did decks The crucifix around his neck Was from Loretto brought)

Page  104 104 KAIXMION. CANITO I, His sandals were with travel tore, Staff, budget, bottle, scrip, he wore; The faded palm-branch in his hand, Showed pilgrim from the Holy Land. XXVIIL When as the Palmer came in hall, Nor lord, nor knight, was there more tall, Or had a statelier step withal, Or looked more high and keen; For no saluting did he wait, But strode across the hall of state, And fronted Marmion where he sate, As he his peer had been. But his gaunt frame was worn with toil: His cheek was sunk, alas the while! And when he struggled at a smile, His eye looked haggard wild. Poor wretch! the mother that him bare, If she had been in presence there, In his wan face, and sun-burned hair, She had not known her child. Danger, long travel, want, or woe, Soon change the form that best we kncw.-. For deadly fear can time outgo, And blanch at once the hair; Hard toil can roughen form and face, And want can quench the eye's bright grace, qNor does old age a wrinkle trace, More deeply than despair. Happy whom none of these befall, But this poor Palmer knew them all. XXIX. Lord Marmion then his boon did ask; The Palmer took on him the task, So he would march with morning tide, To Scottish court to be his guide. - -"But I have solemn vows to pay, And may not linger by the way, To fair Saint Andrew's bound, Within the ocean-cave to pray, Where good Saint Rule his holy lay, From midnight to the dawn of day, Sung to the billow's sound; Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well, Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel,

Page  105 aANTO 1. KARMION. 105 And the crazed brain restore:Saint Mary grant, that cave or spring Could back to peace my bosom bring, Or bid it throb no morel" — XXX. And now the midnight draught of sleep, Where wine and spices richly steep, In massive bowl of silver deep, The page presents on knee. Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest, The Captain pledged his noble guest, The cup went through among the rest, Who drained it merrily; Alone the Palmer passed it by, Though Selby pressed him courteously. This was the sign the feast was o'er; It hushed the merry wassel roar, The minstrels ceased to sound. Soon in the castle nought was heard, But the slow footstep of the guard, Pacing his sober round. XXXI. With early dawn Lord Marmion rose: And first the chapel doors unclose; Then, after morning rites were done, (A'hasty mass from Friar John,) And knight and squire had broke their fast, On rich substantial repast, Lord Marmion's bugles blew to horse. Then came the stirrup-cup in course; Between the Baron and his host, No point of courtesy was lost: High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid, Solemn excuse the Captain made, Till, filing from the gate, had past That noble train, their Lord the lasts Then loudly rung the trumpet-call; Thundered the cannon from the wall, And shook the Scottish shore; Aronnd the castle eddied, slow, Volumes of smoke as white as snow, And hid its turrets hoar;, Till they rolled forth upon the air, And met the river breezes there, Which gave again the prospect fair. 1 1

Page  106 10f MARMION, CANTO U INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. To the REV. JOHN MARRIOT, M.A. Ashestiel, Ettriche Forest. THE seenes are desart now and bare, Where flourished once a forest fair, When these waste glens with copse were lined, And peopled with the hart and hind. Yon thorn-perchance whose prickly spears Hiave fenced him for three hundred years, While fell around his green compeers — You lonely thorn, would he could tell The changes of his parent dell, Since he, so grey and stubborn now, Waved in each breeze a sapling bough; Would he could tell how deep the shade, A thousand mingled branches made; How broad the shadows of the oak, How clung the rowan* to the rock, And through the foliage showed his head, With narrow leaves, and berries red; What pines on every mountain sprung, O'er every dell what birches hung, In every breeze what aspens shook, What alders shaded every brook! "Here, in my shade," methinks he'd say, "The mighty stag at noontide lay; The wolf I've seen, a fiercer game, (The neighbouring dingle bears his name,) With lurching step around me prowl, And stop against the moon to:howl; The mountain boar, on battle set, His tusks'upon my stem would whet; While doe and roe, and red-deer good, Have bounded by through gay green-wood, Then oft, from Newark's riven tower, Sallied a Scottish monarch's power: A thousand vassals mustered round, With horse, and hawk, and horn, and hounds And I might see the youth intent, Guard every pass with cross-bow bent; And through the brake the rangers stalk, And faWl'ners hold the ready hawk; M* ountain-ash.

Page  107 CA -rc II. IARMION, F And foresters, in green-wood trim, Lead in the leash the gaze-hounds g1 Attentive, as the bratchet's bay From the dark covert drove the prey, To slip them as he broke away. The startled quarry bounds amain, As fast the gallant grey-hounds strain; Whistles the arrow from the bow, Answers the harquebuss below; While all the rocking hills reply, To hoof-clang, hound, and hunters' cry, And bugles ringing lightsomely."Of such proud huntings, many tales Yet linger in our lonely dales, Up pathless Ettricke, and on Yarrow, Where erst the Outlaw drew his arrow. But not more blythe that sylvan court, Than we have been at humbler sport; Though small our pomp, and mean our ga=m Our muirth, dear Marriot, was the same. Remember'st thou my grey-hounds true? O'er holt, or hill, there never flew, From slip, or leash, there never sprang, More fleet of foot, or sure of fang. Nor dull, between each merry chase, Passed by the intermitted space; For we had fair resource in store, In Classic, and in Gothic lore: We marked each memorable scene, And held poetic talk between; Nor hill, nor brook, we paced along, But had its legend, or its song. All silent now-for now are still Thy bowers, untenanted Bowhill! No longer, from thy mountains dun, The yeoman hears the well-known gun, And, while his honest heart glows warm, At thought of his paternal farm, Round to his mates a brimmer fills, And drinks, "The Chieftain of the Hilla[~ No fairy forms, in Yarrow's bowers, Trip o'er the walks, or tend the flower% Fair as the elves whom Janet saw, By moonlight, dance on Carterhaug;4 iNo youthful barons left to grace'The Foret-Serif'As lonely chase,

Page  108 g08 MARMION..N TO IU And ape, in manly step and tone, The majesty of Oberon: And she is gone, whose lovely face Is but her least and lowest grace; Though if to Sylphid Queen'twere'-:v, n, To show our earth the charms of hIcav, ii, She could not glide along the air, With form more light, or face more f{iir. No more the widow's deafened ear Grows quick, that lady's step to hear: At noontide she expects her not,'Nor busies her to trim the cot; Pensive she turns her humming wheel, Or pensive cooks her orphan's meal; Yet blesses, ere she deals their bread, The gentle hand by which they're fed. From Yair,-which hills so closely liild,. Scarce can the Tweed his passage firn i., Though much he fret, and chafe, anld ll ii, Till all his eddying currents boil, Her long-descended lord is gone, And left us by the stream alone. And much I miss those sportive boys, Companions of my mountain joys,'Just at the age'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is tlrth. Close to my side, with what delight, They pressed to hear of Wallace wigllt, When, pointing to his airy mound, I called his ramparts holy ground! Kindled their brows to hear me speak; And I have smiled, to feel my cheek, Despite the difference of our years, Return again the glow of theirs. Ah, happy boysl such feelings pure, They will not, cannot long endure; Condemned to stem the world's rude tilo, You may not linger by the side; For Fate shall thrust you from the shore., And Passion ply the sail and oar, Yet cherish the remembrance still, Of the lone mountain, and the rill; For trust, dear boys, the time will come, When fiercer transport shall be dumb, And you will think right frequently, But, well I hope, without a sigh, t I

Page  109 MARM10ON. 109 On the free hours that we have spent, Together, on the brown hill's bent. When, musing on companions gone, We doubly feel ourselves alone, Sometlling, my friend, we yet may gain, There is a pleasure in this pain: It soothes the love of lonely rest, Deep in each gentler heart impressed,'Tis silent amid worldly toils, And stifled soon by mental broils; But, in a bosom thus prepared, Its still small voice is often heard, Whispering a mingled sentiment'T'wixt resignation and content. Oft in my mind such thoughts awake, By lone St Mary's silent lake;'Thou know'st it well,-nor fen, nor sedge, Pollute the pure lake's crystal edge; Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink At once upon the level brink; And just a trace of silver sand Marks where the water meets the land, Far in the mirror, bright and blue, Each hill's huge outline you may view; Shaggy with heath, but lonely bare, \Nor tree, nor bush, nor brake is there, Save where, of land, yon slender line jBears thwart the lake the scattered pine. Yet even this nakedness has power, And aids the feeling of the hour: Nor thicket, dell, nor copse you spy, Where living thing concealed might lie; Nor point, retiring, hides a dell, Where swain, or woodman lone, might dwell There's nothing left to fancy's guess, You see that all is loneliness: Ald silence aids-though these steep hills Send to the lake a thousand rills; In summer tide, so soft they weep, The sound but lulls the ear asleep; Your horse's hoof-tread sounds too rude. So stilly is the solitude. Nought living.meets the eye or ear, But well I ween the dead are near; For though, in feudal strife, a foe 11'

Page  110 Rath laid Our Lady's chapel low, Yet still, beneath the hallowed soil, The peasant restahim from his toil, And, dying, bids his bones be laid, Where erst his simple fathers prayed. If age had tamed the passions' strife, iAnd fate had cut my ties to life, Here, have I thought,'twere sweet to dwell, And rear again the chaplain's cell, Like that same peaceful hermitage,'Where Milton longed to spend his age.'Twere sweet to mark the setting day, On Bourhope's lonely top decay; And, as it faint and feeble died On the broad lake, and mountain's side% To say, " Thus pleasures fade awayj Youth, talents, beauty, thus decay, And leave as dark, forlorn, and grey:;0. Then gaze on Dryhope's ruined tower, And think on Yarrow's faded Flower. And when that mountain-sound I heard, Which bids us be for storm prepared) The distant rustling of his wings, As up his force the Tempest brings,'Twere sweet, ere yet his terrors ravw, To sit upon the Wizard's grave; That wizard Priest's whose bones are thrag From company of holy dust; On which no sun-beam ever shines(So superstition's creed divines,) Thence view the lake, with sullen roar, Heave her broad billows to the shore; And mark the wild swans-mount the gale, JSpread wide through mist their snowy sgai, And ever stoop again, to lave Their bosoms on the surging wave: Then, when against the driving hail No longer might my plaid avail, Back to my lonely home retire, And light my lamp, and trim my fire; There ponder o'er some mystic lay, rill the wild tale had all its sway, And in the bittern's distant shriek I[ heard unearthly voices speak, And thought the Wizard Priest was come, l l To claim again his ancient home!

Page  111 CA XO iL MA.Mxom 1l And bade my busy fancy range, To frame him fitting shape and strange, Till from the task my -brow I cleared, And smiled to think that I had feared. But, chief,'twere sweet to think such life, (Though but escape from fortune's stritb) Something most matchleesgood, and wisce A great and grateful sacrifice; And deem each hour, to musing given, A step upon the road to heaven. Yet him, whose heart is ill at ease, Such peaceful solitudes displease: He loves to drown his bosom's jar Amid the elemental war: And my black Palmer's choice had been Some ruder and more savage scene, Like that which frowns round dark Lochsken, There eagles scream from isle to shore; Down all the rocks the torrents roar; O'er the black waves incessant driven, Dark mists infect the summer heaven; Through the rude barriers of the lake, Away its hurrying waters breaks Faster and whiter dash and curl, Till down yon dark abyss they hurl Rises the fog-smoke white as snow, Thunders the viewless stream below, Diving, as if condemned to lave Some demon's subterranean cave, Who, prisoned by enchanter's spell, Shakes the dark rock with groan and yell, And well that Palmer's form and mien Had suited with the stormy scene, Just on the edge, straining his ken To view the bottom of the den, Where, deep deep down, and far wvithin, Toils with the rocks the roaring linn; Then, issuing forth one foamy wave, And wheeling round the Giant's Grave, White as the snowy charger's tail, Drives down the pass of Moffatdale. Marriot, thy harp, on Isis strung, To many a Border theme has rung: Then list to me, and thou shalt know Of this mysterious Man of Woe.

Page  112 1.2 C&TxANTOz. Sca CON, CANTO SECOND. TUE CONVENT, L THE breeze, which swept away the smoke, Round Norham Castle rolled; When all the loud artillery spoke, With lightning-flash, and thunder-stroke, As Marmion left the Hold. It curled not Tweed alone, that breeze; For, far upon Northumbrian seeas, It freshly blew, and strong, Where, from high Whitby's cloistered pile, Bound to Saint Cuthbert's Holy Isle, It bore a bark along. Upon the gale she stooped her side, And bounded o'er the swelling tide, As she were dancing home; The merry seamen laughed, to see Their gallant ship so lustily Furrow the green sea-foam. Much joyed they in their honoured fi'eight; For, on the deck, in chair of state, The Abbess of Saint Hilda placed, With five fair nuns, the galley graced. IL'Twas sweet to see these holy maids, Like birds escaped to green-wood shaJ:es, Their first flight from the cage, How timid, and how curious too, For all to them was strange and new, And all the common sights they view, Their wonderment engage. One eyed the shroudsand swelling sail, With many a benedicite; One at the rippling surge grew pale, And would for terror pray; Then shrieked, because the sea-dog, nigh, His round black head, and sparkling c}y, Reared oer the foaming spray; A.nd one would still adjust her veil, l isordered by the summer gale,

Page  113 vAx ro IL 0rMroN. OA2~e~rOa U.t~ RL~aRIONr ~ 113. Perchance lest some more worldly eye Her dedicated charms might spy; Perchance, because such action graced Her fair-turned arm and slender waist. Light was each simple bosom there, Save two, who ill might pleasure share-,The Abbess and the Novice Clare. The Abbess was of noble blood, But early took the veil and hood, Ere upon life she cast a look, Or knew the world that she forsook. FPair too she was, and kind had been As she was fair, but ne'er had seen For her a timid lover sigh, Nor knew the influence of her eye; Love, to her ear, was but a name, Combined with vanity and shame; Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all Bounded within the cloister wall: The deadliest sin her mind could reach, Was of monastic rule the breach; And her ambition's highest aim, To emulate Saint Hilda's fame. For this she gave her ample dower, To raise the convent's eastern tower; For this, with carving rare and quaint, She decked the chapel of the saint, And gave the relique-shrine of cost, With ivory and gems embost. The poor her convent's bounty blest, The pilgrim in its halls found rest. IV. Black was her garb, her rigid rule Reformed on Benedictine school; Her cheek was pale, her form was spare;S Vigils, and penitence austere, Had early quenched the light of youth, But gentle was the dame in sooth; Though vain of her religious sway, She loved to see her maids obey, Yet nothing stern was she in cell, And the nuns loved their Abbess well Sad was this voyage to the dame; nlaunoned to Liniisfarne, she came, ~~ —. —. —---------— ~ —-- -----— ~- ~ —-- ^ —J~~ —- ~ —

Page  114 114 3ARMIO1. ANTO I. There, with Saint Cuthbert's Abbot old, And Tynemouth's Prioress, to hold A chapter of Saint Benedict, For inquisition stern and strict. On two apostates from the faith, And, if need were, to doom to death. V. Nought say I here of Sister Clare, Save this, that she was young and fair; As yet a novice unprofessed, Lovely, and gentle, but distressed. She was betrothed to one now dead, Or worse, Who had dishonoured fled. Her kinsmen bade her give her hand To one, who loved her for her land: Herself almost heart-broken now, Was bent to take the vestal vow, And shroud, within Saint Hilda's gloom, Her blasted hopes and withered bloom. Vat She sate upon the galley's prow, And seemed to mark the waves below; Nay seemed, so fixed her look and eye,,To count them as they.glided by. She saw them not-'twas seeming allFar other scene her thoughts recall,A sun-scorched desart, waste and bare, Nor wave, nor breezes, murmured there; There saw she; where some careless hand O'er a dead corpse had heaped the sand, To hide it till the jackalls come To tear it from the scanty tomb.See what a woeful look was given, As she raised up her eyes to heaven-! VIL Lovely, and gentle, and distressedThese charms might tame the fier.est breat: Harpers have sung, and poets told, That he, in fury uncontrolled, The shaggy monarch of the wood, Before a virgin, fair and good. Hath pacified his savage mood. But passions in the human frame Oft put the lion's rage to shame;

Page  115 OAWTO LB. A:1|15 And jealousy, by dark intrigue, With sordid avarice in league, Had practised, with their bowl and knife, Against the mourner's harmless life. This crime was charged'gainst those who lay Prisoned in Cuthbert's islet gray. VIIL And now the vessel skirts the strand Of mountainous Northumberland; Towns, towers, and halls, successive rise, And catch the nuns' delighted eyes. Monk-Wearmouth soon behind them lay, And Tynemouth's priory and bay; They marked, amid her trees, the hall Of lofty Seaton-Delaval; They saw the Blythe and Wansbeck floods Rush to the sea through sounding woods; They past the tower of Widderington, Mother of many a valiant son; At Coquet-isle their beads they tell, To the good Saint who owned the cell; Then did the Alne attention claim, And Warkworth, proud of Percy's name; And next, they crossed themselves, to hear The whitening breakers sound so near, Where, boiling through the rocks, they roar On Dunstanborough's caverned shore; Thy tower, proud Bamborough, marked they here, King Ida's castle, huge and square, From its tall rock look grimly down, And on the swelling ocean frown; Then from the coast they bore away, And reached the Holy lsland's bay. The tide did now its flood-mark gain, And girdled in the Saint's domain.: For with the flow and ebb, its stile Varies from continent to isle; Dry-sh6d, o'er s'tnds, twice every day, The pilgrims to the shrine find way; Twice every day, the waves efface Of staves and sandaled feet the trace As to the port the galley flew, Higher and higher rose to view ____________-,__ _...._.............._ _...

Page  116 1 1 31AReIMO!r QCANTO x. The Castle, with its battled walls The ancient monastery's halls, A solemn, huge, and dark-red pile Placed on the margin of the isle. X. In Saxon strength that Abbey frowned, With massive arches broad and round, That rose alternate, row and row On ponderous columns, short and low, Built ere the art was known, By pointed aisle, and shafted stalk, The arcades of an alley'd walk To emulate in stone. On the deep walls, the heathen Dane Had poured his impious rage in vain; And needful was such strength to these, Exposed to the tempestuous seas. Scourged by the wind's eternal sway, Open to rovers fierce as they, Which could twelve hundred years withstand Winds, waves, and northern pirates' hand. Not but that portions of the pile, Rebuilded in a laterstyle, Showed where the spoiler's hand had been; Not but the wasting sea-breeze keen Had worn the pillar's carving quaint, And mouldered in his niche the saint, And rounded, with consuming power, The pointed angles of each tower; Yet still entire the Abbey stood, Like veteran, worn, but unsubdued. XL Soon as they neared his turrets strong, The maidens raised Saint Hilda's song, And with the sea-wave and the wind, Their voices, sweetly shrill, combined, And made harmonious close; Then, answering from the sandy shore, Half-drowned amid the breakers' roar, According chorus rose: Down to the haven of the Isle, The monks and-nuns in order file, From Cuthbert's cloisters grim; Banner, and cross, and reliques there, To meet Saint Ililda's maids, they bares

Page  117 "iMro r1. (ARMION. 117 And, as they caught the sounds on air, They echoed back the hymn. The islanders, m joyous mood, Rushed emulously through the flood, To hale the bark to land; Conspicuousby her veil andhood, Signing the cross, the Abbess stood, And blessed them with her hand. XIL Suppose we now the welcome said, Suppose the Convent banquet made; All through the holy dome, Through cloister, aisle, and gallery, Wherever vestal maid might pry, Nor risk to meet unhallowed eye, The stranger sisters roam: Till fell the evening damp with dew, And the sharp sea-breeze coldly blew, For there, even summer night is chilL Then, having strayed and gazed their fill They closed around the fire; And all, in turn, essayed to paint T'he rival merits of their saint, A theme that ne'er can tire A holy maid; for, be it known, That their saint's honour is their own. XIIL Then Whitby's nuns exulting told, How to their house three barons bold Must menial service do; While horns blow out a note of shame, And monks cry' Fye upon your name! In wrath, for loss of sylvan game, Saint Hilda's priest ye slew." "This, on Ascension-day, each year, While labouring on our harbour-pier, Must HIerQert, Bruce, and Percy hear." They told, how in their convent cell. A Saxon princess once did dwell, The lovely Edelfled;* And how, of thousand snakes, each one Was changed into a coil of stone, When holy Hilda prayed;'The daughter-of King Osway.....................................~~~~~~~~~

Page  118 MARMIO, 0N. Themselves, within their holy bound,'lleir stony folds had often ibund.'Ihey told, how sea-fowls' pinions fail, As over Whitby's towers they sail, And, sinking down, with fluttering faint, They do their homage to the saint. XIV. Nor did Saint Cuthbert's daughters fail To vie with these in holy tale; His body's resting-place, of old, How oft their patron changed, they told; How, when the rude Dane burned their pile, The monks fled forth from Holy Isle; O'er northern mountain, marsh, and moor, From sea to sea, fr6m shore to shore, Seven years Saint Cuthbert's corpse they bore, They rested them in fair Melrose; But though, alive, he loved it well, Not th6re his reliques might repose; For, wondrous tale to tell! In his stone-coffin forth he rides, (A ponderous bark for river tides) Yet light as gossamer it glides, Downward to Tillmouth cell. Nor long was his abiding there, For southward did the saint repair; Chester-le-Street, and Rippon, saw Ilis holy corpse, ere Wardilaw Hailed him with joy and fear; And, after many wanderings past, He chose his lordly seat at last, Where his cathedral, huge and vas, Looks down upon the Wear: There, deep in Durham's Gothic shade, His reliques are in secret laid; But none may know the place, Save of his holiest servants three, Deep sworn to solemn-secrecy, Who share that wondrous grace, XV. Who may his miracles declare! Even Scotland's dauntless king, and heir, (Although with them they led Galwegians, wild as ocean's gale, And Lodon's knights, all sheathed in mail

Page  119 CArNTO l.t UoMIO. 119 And the bold men of Teviotdale,) Before his standard fled.'Twas he, to vindicate his reign, Edged Alfred's falchion on the Dane And turned the conqueror back again, When, with his Norman bowyer band, le came to waste Northumberland XVL But fain Saint Hilda's nuns would learn, If, on a rock by Lindisfarn, Saint Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame The sea-born beads that bear his names Such tales had Whitby's fishers told, And said they might his shape behold, And hear his anvil sound; A deadened clang,-a huge dim form, Seen but, and heard, when gathering storm, And night were closing round. But this, as tale of idle fame, The nuns of Lindisfarn disclaim. XVIL While round the fire such legends go, Far different was the scene of woe, Where, in a secret aisle beneath, Council was held of life and death. It was more dark and lone that vault, Than the worst dungeon cell; Old Colwulf built it, for his fault, In penitence to dwell, When he, for cowl and beads, laid down The Saxon battle-axe and crown. This den, which, chilling every sense Of feeling, hearing, sight, Was called the Vault of Penitence, Excluding air and light, Was, by the prelate Sexhelm, made A place of burial, for such dead As, having died in mortal sin, Might not be laid the church withfn.'Twas now a place of punishment; Whence if so loud a shriek were sent, As reached the upper air, The hearers blessed themselves, and said The spirits of the sinful dead Bemoaned their torments there.

Page  120 1#) HARMIONM CARo uit XVIIL But though, in the monastic pile, Did of this penitential aisle Some vague tradition go, Few only, save the Abbot, knew Where the place lay; and still more few Were those, who had from him the cler To that dread vault to go. Victim and executioner Were blind-fold when transported there. In low dark rounds the arches hung, |From the rude rock the side-walls sprung; The grave-stones, rudely sculptured o'er, Half sunk in earth, by time half wore, Were all the pavement of the floor; The mildew drops fell one by one, With tinkling plash, upon the stone. A cresset,* in an iron chain, Which served to light this drear domain, With damp and darkness seemed to strive, As if it scarce might keep alive; And yet it dimly served to show The awful conclave met below, There, met to doom in secrecy, Were placed the heads of convents three: All servants of Saint Benedict, The statutes of whose order strict On iron table lay; ~ In long black dress, on seats of stone, Behind were these three judges shown, By the pale cresset's ray: The Abbess of Saint Hilda's there Sate for a space with visage bare, Until, to hide her bosom's swell, And tear-drops that for pity fell, She closely drew her veil; Yon shrouded figure, as I guess, By her proud mien and flowing dress, Is Tynemouth's haughty Prioress, And she with awe looks pale: And he, that Ancient Man, whose sight Ho long been quenched by age's nigl,. Antique chandelier.

Page  121 CANTO It. MARIO1V. 1'21 Upon whose wrinkled brow alone, Nor ruth, nor mercy's trace is shown, Whose look is hard and stern,Saint Cuthbert's Abbot is his style; For sanctity called, through the isle, The Saint of Lindisfarn. Before them stood a guilty pair; But, though an equal fate they share, Yet one alone deserves our care. Her sex a page's dress belied; The cloak and doublet, loosely tied, Obscured her charms, but could not hide. Her cap down o'er her face she drew; And, on her doublet breast, She tried to hide the badge of blue, Lord Marmion's falcon crest. But, at the Prioress' command, A Monk undid the silken band That tied her tresses fair, And raised the bonnet from her head, And down her slender form they spread, In ringlets rich and rare. Constance de Beverleythey know, Sister professed of Fontevraud, Whom the church numbered with the dead, For broken vows, and convent fled. XXL When thus her face was given to view, (Although so pallid was her hue, It did a ghastly contrast bear, To those bright ringlets glistering fair,) Her look composed, and steady eye, Bespoke a matchless constancy; And there she stood so calm and pale, That, but her breathing did not fail, Ansd motion slight of eye and head, And of her bosom, warranted, That neither sense nor pulse she lacks, You might have thought a form of wax, Wrought to the life, was there; So still she was, so pale, so fair. 12*

Page  122 122.ARTXON. C a O 11 XXIL Ter eonrnade was a sordid soul,.Suchl as does murder for a meed; Who, but of fear, knows no controil, Bevcause his conscience, seared and foul,. Feels not the import of his deed; One, whose brute-feeling ne'er aspires Beyond his own more brute desires, Such tools the tempter ever needs, To do the savagest of deeds; For them no visioned terrors daunt, Their nights no fancied speetres haunt; One fear with them, of all most base, The fear of death,-alone finds place.. This wretch was clad in frock and cowl, And shamed not loud to moan and howl, His body on the floor to dash, And crouch, like hound beneath the lash} While his mute partner, standing near, Waited her doom without a tear. XXEm_ Yet well the luckless wretch might shriek, Well might her paleness terror speakl For there were seen, in that dark wall, Two niches, narrow, deep, and tall Who enters at such grisly door, Shall ne'er, I ween, find exit more. In each a slender meal was laid, Of roots, of water, and of bread; By each, in Benedictine dress, Two haggard monks stood motionless; Who, holding high a blazing torch, Showed the grim entrance of the porch: Reflecting back the smoky beam, The dark-red walls and arches gleam. Hewn stones and cement were displayed, And building tools in order laid. XIV. These executioners were chose As men who were with mankind foes, And, wich despite and envy fired, Into the cloister had retired; Or who, in desperate doubt of grace, Strove, by deep penance, to efface

Page  123 aNTro nT. ARM1ON. Of some foul crime the stain; For, as the vassals of her will, Such men the church selected still, As either joyed in doing ill, Or thought more grace to gain, If in her cause, they wrestled down XFeelings their nature strove to own. By strange device were they brought ther% They knew not how, and knew not-where XXV. And now that blind old Abbot rose, To speak the Chapter's doom, On those the wall was to enclose, Alive, within the tomb; But stopped, because that woeful maid, Gathering her powers, to speak essayed. Twice she essayed, and twice in vain; Her accents might no utterance gain; Nought but imperfect murmurs slip From her convulsed and quivering lip:'Twixt each attempt all was so still, You seemed to hear a distant rill —'Twas ocean's swells and falls; For though this vault of sin and fear Was to the sounding surge so near, A tempest there you scarce could hear, So massive were the walls. XXVL At length, an effort sent apart The blood that curdled to her heart, And light came to her eye, And colour dawned upon her cheek, A hectic and a fluttered streak, Like that left on the Cheviot peak By Autumn's stormy sky; And when her silence broke at lengthl. Still as she spoke she gathered strength, And armed herself to bear. It was a fearful sight to see Such high resolve and constancy, In form so soft and fair. XXVIL "I speak not to implore your grace; Well know I, for one minute's space i _

Page  124 124 MARMION. SANTO n, Successless might I sue: Nor do I speak your prayers to gain; For if a death of lingering pain, To cleanse my sins, be penance vain, Vain are your masses too. — I listened to a traitor's tale, I left the convent and the veil, For three long years I bowed my pride, A horse-boy in his train to ride; And well my folly's meed he gave, Who forfeited, to be his slave, All here, and all beyond the grave.He saw young Clara's face more fair, He knew her of broad lands the heir, Forgot his vows, his faith forswore, And Constance was beloved no more,-'Tis an old tale, and often told; But, did my fate and wish agree, Ne'er had been read, in story old, Of maiden true betrayed for gold, That loved, or was avenged, like mel XXVIIL " The king approved his favourite's aim; In vain a rival barred his claim, Whose faith with Clare's was plight, For he attaints that rival's fame With treason's charge-and on they came, In mortal lists to fight. Their oaths are said, Their prayers are prayed, Their lances in the rest are laid, They meet in mortal shock; And harkl the throng, with thullei'in: cor, Shout,' Marmion, Marition, to the bky! De Wilton to the blockl' Say ye, who preach heaven shall dec'.A, When in the lists two champions ridc, Say, was heaven's justice here? When, loyal in his love and faith, Wilton found overthrow or death, Beneath a traitor's spear. How false the charge, how true he fell, This guilty packet best can tell"Then drew a packet from her breast, Paused, gathered voice, and spoke the lest

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Page  125 CAMPTO U, IARMrOu. 125 "Still was false Marmion's bridal staid; To Whitby's convent fled the maid, The hated match to shun. i'Ho shifts she thus?' King Henry cried,'Sir Marmion, she shall be thy bride, If she were sworn a nun.' One way remained-the king's command Sent Marmion to the Scottish land: |I lingered here, and rescue plann'd For Clara and for me: This caitiff Monk, for gold, did swear, He would to Whitby's shrine repair, And, by his drugs, my rival fair A saint in heaven should be. But ill the dastard kept his oath, Whose cowardice hath undone us both. Xxx. " And now my. tongue the secret tells, Not that remorse my bosom swells, But to assure my soul, that none Shall ever wed with Marmion. Had fortune my last hope betrayed, This packet, to the king conveyed, HI-ad given him to the headsman's-stroke, Although nay heart that instant broke.Now, men of death, work forth your will, For I can suffer, and be still; And come he slow, or come he fast, It is but death who comes at last. XXXL "Yet dread me, from my living tomb, Ye vassal slaves of bloody Rome! If Marmion's late remorse should wake, Full soon such vengeance will he take, That you shall wish the fiery Dane Had rather been your guest again. Behind, a darker hour ascends! The altars quake, the crosier bends, The ire of a despotic king Rides forth upon destruction's wing; Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep, Burst open to the.sea-winds' sweep; __________ ___________________- _________ _____________

Page  126 126 MARMON., OAItO I Some traveller then shal.- find my bones, Whitening amid disjointed stones, And, ignorant of priests' cruelty, Marvel such reliques here should be.s'- - XXXIL Fixed was her look, and stern her air; Back from her shoulders streamed her hair; The locks, that wont her.brow to Ahsde, Stared up erectly from her head; Her figure seemed to rise more.highs; Her voice, despair's wild energy Had given a tone of prophecy. Appalled the astonished conclave sato With stupid eyes, the men of fate Gazed on the light inspired form, And listened for the avenging storm; The judges felt the victim's dread; No hand was moved, no word was said, Till ihus the Abbot's doom was given, Raising his sightless balls to heaven. — " Sister, let thy sorrows cease; Sinful brother, part in peacel" — From that dire dungeon, place of doom, Of execution too, and tomb, Paced forth the judges three; Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell The butcher-work that there befell, When they had glided from the cell Of sin and misery. XXXIIIL An hundred winding steps convey That conclave to the upper day; But, ere they breathed the fresher air, They heard the shriekings of despair, And many a stifled groan: With speed their upward way they take, (Such speed as age and fear can mnake,) And crossed themselves for terror's sake, As hurrying, tottering on. Even in the vesper's heavenly tone, They seemed to hear a dying groan, And bade the passing knell to toll For welfare of a parting soul. Slow o'er the midnight wave it swung, Northumbrian rocks in answer rung; __- __________ __

Page  127 ANTL In, MRMON. 127 To Warkworth cell the echoes rolled, His beads the wakeful hermit told; The Bamborough peasant raised his head, But slept ere half a prayer he said.; So far was heard the mighty knell, The stag sprung up on Cheviot Fell, Spread his broad nostril to the wind, Listed before, aside, behind; Then couched him down beside the hind, And quaked among the mountain fern, To hear that sound so dull and stern. INTRODUCTION TO CANTO TIIR'I To WILLIAM ERSKINE, Esq. Ashaestid, Ettric'xe FtoWt, Loxw April morning clouds, that pass, With varying shadow, o'er the grass, And imitate, on field and furrow, Life's chequered scene of joy and sorrow; Like streamlet of the mountain north, Now in a torrent racing forth, Now winding slow its silver train, And almost slumbering on the plain; Like breezes of the autumn day, Whose voice inconstant dies away, And ever swells again as fast, When the ear deems its murmur past. Thus various, my romantic theme Flits, winds, or sinks, a morning dream. Yet pleased, our' eye pursues the trace Of Light and Shade's inconstant race; Pleased, views the rivulet afar, Weaving its maze irregular; And pleased, we listen as the breeze Heaves its wild sigh through Autumn t.ree Then wild as cloud, or stream, or gale, Flow on, flow unconfined, my tale. Need I to thee, dear Erskine, tell I love the licence all too well, In sound now lowly, and now strong, To raise the desultory song?Oft, when mid such capricious chime, Some transient fit of loftier rhyme,

Page  128 128 MARPION. CANTO 1M To thy kind judgment seemed excuse For many an error of the muse; Oft hast thou said, " If still mis-spent, Thine hours to poetry are lent, Go, and to tame thy wandering course, Quaff from the fountain at the source; Approach those masters, o'er whose tomb'Immortal laurels ever bloom: Instructive of the feebler bard, Still from the grave their voice is heard; From them, and from the paths they show'di Choose honoured guide and practised road; Nor ramble on through brake and maze, With harpers rude of barbarous days. "Or deem'st thou not our later time Yields topic meet for classic rhyme? Hast thou-no elegiac verse For Brunswick's venerable hearse? Whatl not a line, a tear, a sigh, When valour bleeds for liberty?Oh, hero of that glorious time, When, with unrivalled light sublime, — Though martial Austria, and though all The might of Russia, and the Gaul, Though banded Europe stood her foesThe star of Brandenburgh arose, They couldst not live to see her beamu For ever quenched in Jena's stream. Lamented chiefl-it was not given To thee to change the doom of heaven, And crush that dragon in his birth, Predestined scourge of guilty earth. Lamented chief!-not thine the power, To save in that presumptuous hour, When Prussia hurried to the field, And snatched the spear, but left the shield; Valour and skill'twas thine to try, And, tried in viain,'twas thine to die. Ill had it seemed thy silver hair The last, the bitterest pang to share, For princedoms reft, and scutcheons riven, And birthrights to usurpers given; Thy land's, thy children's wrongs to feel, And witness woes thou couldst not heal! On thee relenting heaven bestows For banoured life an honoured close;

Page  129 rANTO 1Tr. MAiMtON. 12 And when revolves, in time's sure change,. The hour of Germany's revenge, When, breathing fury for her sake, Some new Arminius shall awake, Her champion, ere he strike, shall come To whet his sword on BRUNSWiOK'S tomb, "Or of the Red-Cross hero teach, Dauntless in dungeon as on breach: Alike to him the sea, the shore, The brand, the bridle, or the oar; Alike to him the war that calls Its votaries to the shattered walls, Which the grimTurk besmeared with blood, Against the Invincible made good; Or that, whose thundering voice could wake The silence of the polar lake, When stubborn Russ, and metal'd Swede, On the warped wave their death-game played, Or that, where vengeance and affright Howl'd round the father of the fight, Who snatched on Alexandria's sand The conqueror's wreath with dying hand. "Or, if to touch such chord be thine, Restore the ancient tragic line, And emulate the notes that rung From the wild harp which silent hung, By silver Avon's holy shore, Till twice an hundred years rolled o'er; When she, the bold Enchantress, came, With fearless hand and heart on flaine! From the pale willow snatched the treasure, And swept it with a kindred measure, Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove With Monfort's hate and Basil's love, Awakening at the inspired strain, Deemed their own Shakspeare lived again." Thy friendship thus thy judgment wronging, With praises not to me belonging, In task more meet for mightiest powers, Wouldst thou engage my thriftless hour. But say, my Erskine, hast thou weighed That secret power by all obeyed, Which warps not less the passive mind, Its source concealed or undefined; Whether an impulse, that has birth Soon as the infant wakes on earth. 13

Page  130 130 l3WtMION. C~eANS R One with our feelings and our powers, And rather part of us than ours; Or whether fitlier termed the sway Of habit, formed in early day? Howe'er derived, its force confessed Rules with despotic sway the breast, And drags us on by viewless chain, While taste and reason plead in vain. Look east, and ask the Belgian why, Beneath Batavia's sultry sky, He seeks not eager to inhale The freshness of the mountain gale, Content to rear his whitened wall Beside the dank and dull canal? He'll say, from youth he loved to see The white sail gliding by the tree. Or see yon weather-beaten hind, Whose sluggish herds before him wind, Whose tattered plaid and rugged cheek HIi northern clime and kindred speak; Through England's laughing meads he go,,e And England's wealth around him flows: Ask if it would content him well, At ease in these gay plains to dwell, Where hedge-rows spread a verdant screen, And spires and forests intervene, And the neat cottage peeps between? No! not for these will he exchange His dark Lochaber's boundless range, Nor for fair Devon's meads forsake Bennevis grey and Garry's lake. Thus, while I ape the measure wild Of tales that charmed me yet a child, lRude though they be, still with the chime Return the thoughts of earlier time; And feelings, roused in life's first day, Glow in the line, and prompt the lay. Then rise those crags, that mountain tower, Which charmed my fancy's wakening hour. Though no broad river swept along, To claim, perchance, heroic song; Though sighed no groves in summer gale, To prompt of love - softer tale; Though scarce a puny streamlet's speed. Claimed homage from a shepherd's reed; Yet was poetic impulse given, By the green hill and clear blue heaven.

Page  131 CtAN, irr.?'IAR~uon 231 It was a barren cene, and wild, Where naked cliffs were rudely piled; But ever and anon between Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green; And well the lonely infant knew Recesses where the wall-flower grew, And honey-suckle loved to crawl Up the low crag and ruined wall; I deemed such nooks the sweetest shade The sun in all his round surveyed; And still I thought that shattered tower The mightiest work of human power; And marvelled as the aged hind With some strange tale bewitched my miud, Of forayers, who, with headlong force, Down from that strength had spurred their holre Their southern rapine to renew, Far in the distant Cheviots blue, And, home returning, filled the hall With revel, wassel-rout, and brawl.Methought that still with tramp and clang The gate-way's broken arches rang; Methought grim features, seamed with scars, Glared through the windows' rusty bars. And ever, by the winter hearth, Old tales I heard of woe or mirth, Of lovers' sleights, of ladies' charms, Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms; Of patriot battles, won of old By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold; Of later fields of feud and fight, Whien, pouring from their Highland height, The Scottish clans, in headlong sway, Had swept the scarlet ranks away. While stretched at length upon the floor, Again I fought each combat o'er, Pebbles and shells, in order laid, The mimic ranks of war displayed; And onward still the Scottish Lion bore, And still the scattered Southron fled beio-re. Still, with vain fondness, could I trice, Anew, each kind familiar face, That brightened at our evening fire; From the thatched mansion's grey-h:dircd Sire, Wise without learning, plain and gooi, And sprung of Scotland's gentler blood;....... 1.1..l.7......... I

Page  132 p z;&2 HWOt. cftr r Whose eye in age, quick, clear, and keels, Showed what in youth its glance had been; Whose doom discording neighbours sougi:~.L Content with equity unbought; To him the venerable Priest, Our frequent and familiar guest, Whose life and manners well could pai&n Alike the student and the saint; Alas! whose:speech too oft I broke With gambol rude and timeless joke: For I was wayward, bold, and wild, A self-will'd imp, a grandame's child; But half a plague, and half a jest, Was still endured, beloved, carest. From me, thus nurtured, dost thou as2'The classic poet's well-conned task? Nay, Erskine, nay-on the wild hill Let the wild heathbell flourish still; Cherish the tulip, prune the vine, But freely let the woodbine twine, And leave untrimmed the eglantine: Nay, my friend, nay-since oft thy praiis Hath given fresh vigour to my lays, Since oft thy judgment could refine 3My flattened thought, or cumbrous line, Still kind, as is thy wont, attend, And in the minstrel spare the friend. Though wild as cloud, as streams, as gab Flow forth, flow unrestrained, my taleb CANTO THIRBD m NIIOu, O rIi L THE livelong day Lord Marmion rode: The mountain path the Palmer showed; By glen and streamlet winded still, Where stunted birches hid the rill. They might not choose the lowland roiad For the Merse forayers were abroad, Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey, Had scarcely failed to bar their way.

Page  133 C.QAWN) ItT NARMIOW. Oft on the trampling band, from crown Of some tall cliff, the deer looked down; On wing of jet, from his repose in the deep heath, the black-cock rose; Sprung from the gorse the timid roe, Nor waited for the bending bow; And when the stony path began, By which' the naked peak they waa, Up flew the snowy ptarmigan. The noon had long been passed before They gained the height of Lammermoor; Thence winding down the northern why, Before them, at She close of day, Old Gifford's towers and hamlet lay. IL No summons cals them to the tower, To spend the hospitable hour. To Scotland's camp the Lord was gone; His cautious dame, in bower alone, Dreaded her castle to unclose, ~So late, to unknown friends or foes. On through the hamlet as they paced, Before a porch, whose front was graced With bush and flaggon trimly placed, Lord Marmion drew his rein: The village inn seemed large though rude, Its cheerful fire and hearty food Might well relieve his train. Down from their seats the horsemen sprung, With jingling spurs the court-yard rung; They bind their horses to the stall, For forage, food, and firing call, And various clamour fills the hall, Weighing the labour with the cost, Toils everywhere the bustling host. Soon by the ecimney' merry blawe, Through the rude hostel might you gate" Might see, where, in dark nook aloof, The rafters of the sooty roof Bore wealth of winter cheer; Of sea-fowl dried, and solands store, And gammons of the tusky boar, And savomy haunch of deer. 1l8 J.

Page  134 'The chimney arch projected wide; Above, around it, and beside, Were tools for housewives' hand: Nor wanted, in that martial day, The implements of Scottish fray, The buckler, lance, and brand. ]Beneath its shade, the place of state, On oaken settle Marinion sate, And viewed around the blazing hearth, His followers mix in noisy mirth Whom with brown ale, in jolly tide, From ancient vessels ranged aside, Full actively their host supplied. IV.Their's was the glee of martial breast, And laughter their's at little jiest.; And oft Lord Marmion deigned to aid, And mingle in the mirth they made; For though, with men of high degree, The proudest of the proud was he, Yet, trained in camps, he knew the. art To win the soldier's hardy heart. They love a captain to. obey, Boisterous as. March, yet fresh as. May; With open hand, and brow. as free, Lover of wine, and minstrelsy;. Ever the first to scale a tower, As venturous in a lady's bower:Such buxom chief shall lead his host From India's fires to. Zembla's frost. V.. Resting upon hispilgrim staff', Bight opposite the Palmer stood; His thin dark visage seen but half,. Half hidden by his hood. Still fixed on Marmion was his look, Which he, who ill such gaze could brook, Strove by a frown to. quell; But not for that, though mo're than. once Full met their stern encountering glance, The Palmer's visage fell. VL By fits less frequent from the crowd Was heard the burst of laughter loude Al~~~~~~~~~~~~__,_,,.~,,,.

Page  135 iNTO I.L MARMIOi. For still, as squire and archer stared On that dark face and matted beard, Their glee and game declined. All gazed at length in silence drear, Unbroke, save when in comrade's ear Some yeoman, wondering in his fear, Thus whispered forth his mind:"Saint Mary! saw'st thou e'er such sigh.? How pale his cheek, his eye how bright, Whene'er the fire-brand's fickle light Glances beneath his cowll Full on our Lord he sets his eye; For his best palfrey, would not I Endure that sullen scowL"VII. But Marmion, as to chase the awe Which thus had quelled their hearts, who saw The ever-varying ire-light show That figure stern and face of woe, Now called upon a squire:"' Fitz-Eustace, know'st thou not some la.,. To speed the lingering night away? We slumber by the fire."VII. "So please you, thus the youth rejoined. "O)ur choicest minstrel's left behind. IU1 nmay we hope to please your ear, Acclistomed Constant's strains to hear. The harp full deftly can he strike, And wake the lover's lute alike; To dear Saint Valentine, no thrush Sings livelier from a spring-tide bush; No nightingale her love-lorn tune More sweetly warbles to the moon. Woe to the cause, whate'er it be, Detains from us his melody, Lavished on rocks, and billows stern, Or duller monks of Lindisfarn. Now must I venture as I may, To sing his favourite roundelay."I. A mellow voice Fitz-Eustace had, The air he chose was wild and sad;

Page  136 MARMION. cnTO Lu'. Such have I heard, in Scottish land, Rise from the busy harvest band, When falls before the mountaineer, On lowland plains, the ripened ear. Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, Now a wild chorus swells the song: Oft have I listened, and stood still, As it came softened up the hill, And deemed it the lament of men Who languished for their native glen; And thought, how sad would be such sound, On Susquehana's swampy ground, Kentucky's wood-encumbered brake, Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain, Recalled fair Scotland'shills againl X. 8ONG. Where shall the lover rest, Whom the fates sever Prom his true maiden's breast, Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and hig, Sounds the far billow, Where early violets die, Under the willow. CHORUSI Eleu loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillo There, through the summer dlay, Cool streams are laving; There, while the tempests sway, Scarce are boughs waving; There, thy rest shalt thou take, Parted for ever, Never again to wake, Never, 0 never. CHORUS. Elsv koro, &c. Never, 0 never. XL Where shall the traitor rwe, He. the deceiver,

Page  137 CANTO III. LMION. 37 Who could win nmaiden's breast, Ruin, and leave her? In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rtttle, With groans of the dying. CHORUS. leu loro, &c. There shall he be lying. Her wing shall the eagle flap O'er the false-hearted; His warm blood the wolf shall lap, Ere life be parted. Shame and dishonour sit By his grave ever; Blessing shall hallow it,Never, 0 never. CHORUS. Eleu oro, &c. Never, 0 never. XIL It ceased, the melancholy sound; And silence sunk on all around. The air was sad; but sadder still It fell on Marmion's ear, And plained as if disgrace and ill, And shameful death, were near. He drew his mantle past his face, Between it and the band, And rested with his head a space, Reclining on his hand. His thoughts I scan not; but [ ween, That, could their import have been seen, The meanest groom in all the hall, That e'er tied courser to a stall, Would scarce have wished to be their prey, For Lutterward andc Fontenaye. XIIIL High minds, of native pride and force, Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse! Fear for their scourge, mean villains haveo, Thou art the torturer of the brave;

Page  138 i i 138 MArPM.oN. CANTO II. Yet fatal strength they boast to steel Their minds to bear the ivounds they feel; Even while they writhe beneath the smalrt Of civil conflict in the heart. [For soon Lord Marmion raised his head, And, smiling, to Fitz-Eustace said;"Is it not strange, that, as ye sung, Seemed in mine ear a death-peal rung, Such as in nunneries they toll Say, what may this portend?" Then first the Palmer silence broke, (The livelong day he had not spoke,) "The death ot a dear friend." XIV. Marmion, whose steady heart and eye Ne'er changed in worst extremity; Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook, Even from his king, a haughty look; Whose accent of command controlled In camps the boldest of the bold — Thought, look, and utterance, failed him now, Fallen was his glance, and flushed his brow; For either in the tone, Or something in the Palmer's look, So full upon his conscience strook, That answer he found none. Thus oft it haps, that when within They shrink at sense of secret sin, A feather daunts the brave: A fool's wild speech confounds the fiis,I And proudest princes vail their eyes Before their meanest slave. XV. Well might he falter! —by his aid Was Constance Beverley betrayed; Not that he augur'd of the doom, Which on the living closed the tomb, But tired to hear the desperate maid Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid; And wroth, because, in wild despair, She practised on the life of Clare; Ita fugitive the church he gave, Though not a victim, but a slave;

Page  139 AIT0. A; MO. 139 Anil deemed restraint in convent stranige iWould hide her wrongs, and her revenge. Huimseli, proud Henry's favourite peer, Held Romish thunders idle fear, Secure his pardon he might hold, For someslight mulct of penanee-gold. Thus judging, he gave secret way, When the stern priests surprised their prey: His train but deemed the favourite page Was left behind, to spare his age; Or other if they deemed, none dared To mutter what he thought and heard: Woe to the vassal, who durst pry Into Lord Marmion's privacyI XVL His conscience slept-he deemed her well, And safe secured in distant cell; But wakened by her favourite lay, And that strange Palmer's boding say, That fell so ominous and drear, Full on the object of his fear, To aid remorse's venomed throes, Dark tales of convent vengeance rose; And Constance, late betrayed and scorned, All lovely on his soul returned: Lovely as when, at treacherous call, She left her convent's peaceful wall, Crimsoned with shame, with terror mute, Dreading alike escape, pursuit, Till love, victorious o'er alarms, Rlid fears and blushes in his arms, XVIL }"Alas!" he thought," how changed that nmien) How changed these timid looks have bcua, Since years of guilt, and of disguise, Have steeled her brow, and armed ihcr cye', No more of virgin terror speaks The blood that mantles in her checks; Fierce, and unfeminine, are there, >Freitzy for joy, for grief despair; And I the cause-for whom were given HIer peace on eartl, heri hopes in lt avnc! —. Would," thoughilt he, as the pictull grovws "I on its stalk had let the roseT I i

Page  140 140 MAbRoN. CANtro tL Oh why should man's success remove The very charms that wake his lovel Her convent's peaceful solitude Is now a prison harsh and rude; And, pent within the narrow cell, flow will her spirit chafe and swell! How brook the stern monastic laws! The penance how-and I the cause! Vigil and scourge-perhaps even worse!" — And twice he rose to cry " to horse!" And twice his sovereign's mandate came, Like damp upon a kindling flame; And twice he thought, "Gave I not ch: arg She should be safe, though not at large? They durst not, for their island, shred One golden ringlet from her head."XVIII. While thus in Marmion's bosom strove Repentance and reviving love, Like whirlwinds, whose contending sway I've seen Loch Vennachar obey, Their Host the Palmer's speech had heard, And, talkative, took up the word: — "Ay, reverend Pilgrim, you, who stray From Scotland's simple land away, To visit realms afar, Full often learn the art to know, Of future weal, or future woe, By word, or sign, or star; Yet might a knight his fortune hear, If, knight-like, he despises fear, Not far from hence;-if fathers old Aright our hamlet legend told."These broken words the menials move. (For marvels still the vulgar love;) And, Marmion giving licence cold, is tale the host thus gladly told. XIIL THE HOST'S TALE, A A clerk could tell what years have flown Since Alexander filled our throne, (Third monarch of that warlike name,) And eke the time when here he came

Page  141 mTo nM. AIARtMIO. 141 To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord: A braver never drew a sword; A wiser never, at the hour Of midnight, spoke the word of power;: The same, whom ancient records call Tlhe founder of the Goblin-hall. I would, Sir Knight, your longer stay Gave you that cavern to survey. Of lofty roof, and ample size, Beneath the castle deep it lies: To hew the living rock profound, The floor to pave, the arch to round, There never toiled a mortal arm, It all was wrought by word and charra; And I have heard my grandsire say, That the wild clamour and affray Of those dread artisans of hell, Who laboured under Hugo's spell, Sounded as loud as ocean's war, Among the caverns of Dunbar. Xx. "The king Lord Gifford's castle sough, ])eep-labouring with uncertain thought; Even then he mustered all his host, To meet upon the western coast; For Norse and Danish galleys plied Their oars within the firth of Clyde. Their floated Haco's banner trim, Above Norweyan warriors grim, Savage of heart, and large of limb; qThreatening both continent and isle, Bute, Arran, Cunninghame, and Kyle. Lord Gifford, deep beneath the ground, Heard Alexander's bugle sound, And tarried not his garb to change, But, in his wizard habit strange, Came forth,-a quaint and fearful sight! 11is mantle lined with fox-skins white; HIls high and wrinkled forehead bore, A pointed cap such as of yore Clerks say that Pharaoh's Magi wore; 1-lis shoes were marked with cross and spells Upon his breast a pentacle; Hlis zone, of virgin parchment thin, 14

Page  142 142 MARI3N.O CANITO IN Or, as some tell of dead man's skin, Bore many a planetary sign, Combust, and retrograde, and trine; And in his hand he held prepared, A naked sword without a guard. XXL "Dire dealings with the fiendish race Had marked strange lines upon his faceVigil and fast had worn him grim, His eyesight dazzled seemed, and dim, As one unused to upper day; Even his own menials with dismay Beheld, Sir Knight, the grisly sire, In this unwonted wild attire; Unwonted, for traditions run, He seldom thus beheld the sun.'I know,' he said,-his voice was hoarse, And broken seemed its hollow force, —'I know the cause, although untold, Why the king seeks his vassal's hold: Vainly from me my liege would know His kingdom's future weal or woe: But yet, if strong his arm and heart, His courage may do more than art, XXIL "'Of middle air the demons proud, Who ride upon the racking cloud, Can read, in fixed or wandering star, The issue of events afar; But still their sullen aid withhold Save when by mightier force controlled. Such late I summoned to my hall; And though so potent was the call, That scarce the deepest nook of hell I deemed a refuge from the spell, Yet, obstinate in silence still, The haughty demon mocks my skill. But thou,-who little know'st thy might, As born upon that blessed night, When yawning graves, and dying groan, Proclaimed hell's emp,re overthrown,-,1 --- -— ~~~~c;.2i; __ ------ - - - - - ~ —-- ~ -----. — ~ _.

Page  143 CALN TO IlL MA1RM1I0. With untaught valour shalt compel Response denied to magic spell.'-'Gramercy,' quoth our monarch free, Place him but front to.front with me, And, by this good and honoured brand, The gift of Coeur-de-Lion's hand, Soothly I swear, that, tide what tide, The demon shall a buffet bide.' — His bearing bold the wizard viewed, And thus, well pleased, his speech renewed, —'There spoke the blood of Malcolm!-mark: Forth pacing hence, at midnight dark, The rampart seek, whose circling crown Crests the ascent of yonder down; A southern entrance shalt thou find; There halt, and there thy bugle wind, And trust thine elfin foe to see, In guise of thy worst enemy: Couch then thy lance, and spur thy steed — Upon him! and Saint George to speed! If he go down, thou soon shalt know Whate'er these airy sprites can show; — If thy heart fail thee in the strife, I am no warrant for thy life.' XXIIL "Soon as the midnight bell did ring, Alone, and armed, rode forth the king To that old camp's deserted round:Sir Knight, you well might mark the mou:l;d Left hand the town,-the Pictish race The trench, long, since, in blood did trace; The moor around is brown and bare, The space within is green and fair. The spot our village children know, For there the earliest wild flowers grow; But woe betide the wandering wight, That treads its circle in the night! The breadth across, a bowshot clear, Gives ample space for full career; Opposed to the four points of heaven, By four deep gaps is entrance given. The southernmost our monarch past, Halted, and blew a gallant blast;

Page  144 144 XAtXION. CANTO IN And on the north, within the ring, Appeared the form of England's king! Who then a thousand leagues afar, In Palestine waged holy war: Yet arms like England's did he wield, Alike the leopards in the shield, Alike his Syrian courser's frame, The rider's length of limb'the same: Long afterwards did Scotland know, Fell Edward was her deadliest foe. XXIV. a The vision made our monarch start, But soon he mann'd his noble heart, And in the first career they ran, The Elfin Knight fell horse and man; Yet did a splinter of his.lance Through Alexander's visor glance, And razed the skin-a puny wound. The king, light leaping to the ground, With naked blade his phantom foe Compelled the future war to show. Of Largs he saw the glorious plain, Where still gigantic bones remain, Memorial of the Danish war; Himself he saw, amid the field, On high his brandished war-axe wield, And strike proud Haco from his cal, iWhile, all around the shadowy kings, Denmark's grim ravens cower'd their win>,'Tis said, that, in that awful night, Remoter visions met his sight, Fore-showing future conquests far, When our sons' sons wage northern war; A royal city, tower and spire, Reddened the midnight sky with fire; And shouting crews her navy bore, Triumphant, to the victor shore.'Such signs may learned clerks exphlain They pass the wit of simple swain. XXV. & The joyful king turned home again,! aded his host, and quelled the Dane;

Page  145 C'RNTO SII. M0~umONA. 145: But yearly, when returned the night Of his strange combat with the sprite, His wound must bleed and smart; Lord Gifford then would gibing say,'Bold as ye were, my liege, ye pay The penance of your start.' Long since, beneath Dunfermline's nave, King Alexander fills his grave, Our Lady give him restl Yet still the nightly spear and shield The elfin warrior doth wield, Upon the brown hill's breast; And many a knight hath proved his chance In the charmed ring to break a lance, But all have foully sped; Save two, as legends tell, and they Were Wallace wight, and Gilbert May. — Gentles, my tale is said." XXVI. The quaighs* were deep, the liquor strong And on the tale the yeoman throng Had made a comment sage and long, But Marmion gave a sign; And, with their lord, the squires retire; The rest, around the hostel fire, Their drowsy limbs recline; For pillow, underneath each head, The quiver and the targe were laid: Deep slumbering on the hostel floor, Oppressed with toil and ale, they snore: The dying flame, in fitful change, Threw on the group its shadows strange. XXVIL Apart, and nestling in the hay Of a waste loft, Fitz-Eustace lay; Scarce, by the pale moonlight, were seen The foldings of his mantle green: Lightly he dreamt, as youth will dream, Of sport by thicket, or by stream, A wooden cup, composed of staves hooped togeths 14*

Page  146 146 MtARMON. CANro mr. Of hawk or hound, of ring or glove, Or, lighter yet, of lady's love. A cautious tread his slumber broke, And, close beside him, when he woke, In moonbeam half, and half in glooim, Stood a tall form with nodding plume: But, ere his dagger Eustace drew, His master Marmion's voice he knew. XXVIIL - Fitz-Eustace! rise,-I cannot rest; Yon churl's wild legend haunts my breast, And graver thoughts have chafed my mood; The air must cool my feverish blood; And fain would I ride forth, to see The scene of elfin chivalry. Arise, and saddle me my steed; And, gentle Eustace, take good heed Thou dost not rouse these drowsy slaves; I would not, that the prating knaves Had cause for saying, o'er their ale, That I could credit such a tale."Then softly down the steps they slid, Eustace the stable door undid, And, darkling, Marmion's steed arrayet, While, whispering, thus the Baron said;1 H KXXI. | Did'st never, good my youth, hear tell, That in the hour when I was born, St. George, who graced my sire's clilpeile, Down from his steed of marble fell, A weary wight forlorn? The flattering chaplains all agree, The champion left his steed to me. I would, the omen's truth to show, That I could meet this Elfin Foe! Blithe would I battle, for the right To ask one question at the sprite:~i, ~Vain thought! for elves, if elves there be, An empty race, by fount or sea, i j To dashing waters dance and sing, Or round the green oak wheel their ring." Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode, And from the hostel slowly rode.

Page  147 oa ~?oi. 7,aWoz5. I' I XXL Fitz-Eustace followed him abroad, And marked him pace the village roa 1, And listened to his horse's tramp, Till, by the lessening sound,: He judged that of the Pictish camp. Lord Marmion sought the rouni(L. Wonder it seemed, in the squire's e3 ye,; That one, so wary held, -and wise,Of whom'twas said, he scarce receiv,'ei For gospel, what the church believeu, — - Should, stirred by idle tale, Ride forth in silence of the night,: As hoping half to meet a sprite, Arrayed in plate and mail. ~For little did 3itz-Eustace know, i That passions, in contending flow, Unfix the strongest mind; Wearied from doubt to doubt to flee, i'We welcome fond credulity,!i Guide confident, though blind.:xxI' Little for this Fitz-Eustace cared, But, patient, waited till he heard, At distance pricked to utmost speed, i The foot-tramp of a flying steed, i' Come town-ward rushing on:!'First, dead,'as if on turf it trod, Then, clattering on the village roads —' In other pace than forth he yode,* Rleturned Lord Marmion. Down hastily he sprung from selle,: And, in his haste, well nigh he fell; To the squire's hand the rein he tlre ei i And spoke no word as he withdreav; But yet the moonlight did betray, j The falcon crest was soiled with clay; And plainly might Fitz-Eustace sc ", 3r stains upon the charger's knee, I Used by old Poets for L.. If J

Page  148 148 MR1I0ON CANTO JY And his left side, that on the moor He had not kept his footing sure. Long musing on these wondrous signs, At length- to rest the squire reclines, Broken and short; for still, between, Would dreams of terror intervene: Eustace did ne'er so blithely malrk The first notes of the morning lark, INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. To Jimis SHas, EQ., Ashestiel, Ettricke Forest, AN ancient minstrel sagely said, "Where is the life which late we led?" That motley clown, in Arden wood, Whom humorous Jaques with envy viewed, Not even that clown could amplify, On this trite text, so long as LI Eleven years we now may tell, Since we have known each other well;. Since, riding side by side, our hand First drew the voluntary brand; And sure, through many a varied scene,. Unkindness never came between. Away these winged years have flown, To join the. mass of ages gone; And though deep marked, like all below, With chequered shades of joy and woe; Though thou o'er realms and seas hast ranged, Marked cities lost, and empires changed, While here, at home, my narrower ken Somewhat of manners saw, and men;

Page  149 .LNt'rE) Iv. MARMION. 149 Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears, Fevered the progress of these years, Yet now, days, weeks, and months, but seem The recollection of a dream, So still we glide down to the sea Of fathomless eternity. Even now, it scarcely seems a day, Since first I tuned this idle lay; A task so often thrown aside, When leisure graver cares denied, That now, November's dreary gale, Whose voice inspired my opening tale, That same November gale once more Whirls the dry leaves on Yarrow shore; Their vex'd boughs streaming to the sky, Once more our naked birches sigh; And Blackhouse heights, and Ettricke Pe; Have don'd their wintry shrouds again; And mountain dark, and flooded mead, Bid us forsake the banks of Tweed. Earlier than wont -along the sky, Mixed with the -rack, -the snow-mists fly: The shepherd, who,- in summer sun, Has something of our envy won, As'thou with pencil, I with pen, The features traced of hill and glen; He who, outstretched, the livelong day, At ease among the heath-flowers lay,'Viewed the light clouds with vacant look, Or slumbered o'er his tattered bookl Or idly busied him to guide angle o'er the lessened tide;At midnight now, the snowy plain F'inds sterner labour for the swain. When red hath set the beamless sun, Through heavy vapours dank and dun; When the tired ploughman, dry and warm..Hears, half asleep, the rising storm Hurling the hlail, and sleeted rain, Against the casement's tinkling pane;'I he sounds that drive wild. deer, and ~, r l'o shelter in the brake and rocks,''; Are warnings which the shepherd To dismal andto dangerous task. ___________ __ ___ ____ _____ ___ ____ _ _ _ I

Page  150 Of he looks forth, and hopes, in vai, The blast may sink in mellowing rain, Till dark above and white below, Decided drives the flaky snow, And forth the hardy swain must go. Long, with dejected look and whine, To leave the hearth hisdogsrepine; Whistling, and cheering them to aid, Around his back he wreathes the plaid; His flock he gathers, and he guides To open downs, and mountain sides, Where, fiercest though the tempest blow,, Least deeply lies the drift below. The blast,that whistles o'er the fells, Stiffens his locks to icicles; Oft he looks back, while, Streaming.f, His cottage window seems a star, Loses its feeble gleam, and then Turns patient to the blast again, And, facing to the tempest's sweep, Drives through the gloom his lagging sheep. If fails his heart, if his limbs fail, Benumbing death is in the gale; His paths, his landmarks-all unknown, Close to the hut, no more his own, Close to the aid he sought in vain, The morn may find the stiffen'd swain.His widow sees,.at dawning pale, Iis orphans raise their feeble wail; And close beside him, in the snow, Poor Yarrow, partner of their woe, Couches upon his master's breast, And licks his cheek to break his rest. Who envies now the shepherd's lot His healthy fare, his rural cot, His summer couch by greenwood tro His rustic kirn's* loud revelry, His native hill notes, tuned on high, To Marion of the blithesome eye; Htis crook, his scrip, his oaten reed, And all Arcadia's golden creed? " The Sottish harest-homa

Page  151 CANTO IV. MARMON. 151 Changes not so with us, my Skene, Of human life the varying scene? Our youthful summer oft we see Dance by on wings of game and glee, While the dark storm reserves its rage, Against the winter of our age: As he, the ancient chief of Troy, His manhood spent in peace and joy; But Grecian fires,and loud alarms, Called ancient Priam forth to arms. Then happy those —since each must drain tHis share of pleasure, share of painThen happy those, beloved of heaven, To whom the mingled cup is given; Whose lenient sorrows find relief, Whose joys are chastened by their grief And such a lot, my Skene, was thine, When thou of late wert doomed to twine-. Just when thy bridal hour was byThe cypress with the myrtle tie; Just on thy bride her sire had smiled, And blessed the union of his child, When love must change its joyous cheer, And wipe affection's filial tear. Nor did the actions next his end, Speak more the father than the friend: Scarce had lamented Forbes paid The tribute to his Minstrel's shade; The tale of friendship scarce was told, Ere the narrator's heart was cold. Far may we search before we find A heart so manly and so kind. But not around his honour'd urn, Shall friends alone and kindred mourn; The thousand eyes his care had dried, Pour at his name a bitter tide; And frequent falls the grateful dew, For benefits the world ne'er knew. If mortal charity dare claim The Almighty's attributed name Inscribe above his mouldering clay" The widow's shield, the orphan's stay Nor, though it wake thy sorrow, deem My verse intrudes on this sad theme;

Page  152 X152 lAlRMIO, CANTO Ir For sacred was the pen that wrote — " Thy father's friend forget thou not:" And grateful title may I plead, For many a kindly word and deed, To bring my tribute to his grave:-'Ti little-but'tis all I have. To thee, perchance,this rambling strain Recalls our summer walks again; When doing nought-and, to speak true, Not anxious to find aught to doThe wild unbounded hills we ranged, While oft our talk its topic changed, And desultory, as our way, Ranged unconfined from grave to gay. Even when it flagged, as oft will chance, No effort made to break its trance, We could right pleasantly pursue Our sports in social silence too. Thou gravely labouring to pourtray The blighted oak's fantastic spray; I spelling o'er, with much delight, The legend of that antique knight, Tirante by name, ycleped the White. At either's feet a trusty squire, Pandour and Camp, with eyes of fire, Jealous, each other's motions viewed, And scarce suppressed their ancient feud. The laverock whistled from the cloud; The stream was lively, but not loud; From the white-thorn the May-flower shed Its dewy fragrance round our head; Not Ariel lived more merrily Under the blossom'd bough, than we. And blithesome nights, too, have been ours, When winter stript the summer's bowers; Careless we heard, what now I hear, The wild blast sighing deep and drear, When fires were bright, and lamps beamed gay, And ladies tuned the lovely lay; And he was held a laggard soul, Who shunn'd to quaff the sparkling bowl Then he, whose absence we deplore, Who breathes the gales of Devon's shore, A

Page  153 CANrTo rv. MARrMIO. 153 The longer missed, bewailed the more; And thou, and I, and dear-loved R —, And one whose name I may not sayFor not Mimosa's tender tree Shrinks sooner from the touch than he — In merry chorus well combined, With laughter drowned the whistling wind. Mirth was within; and Care without Might gnaw her nails to hear our shout. Not but amid the buxom scene Some grave discourse might intervene-. Of the good horse that bore him best, His shoulder, hoof, and arching crest: For, like mad Tom's,* our chiefest care, Was horse to ride, and weapon wear. Such nights we've had; and, though the game Of manhood be more sober tame, And though the field-day, or the drill, Seem less important now-yet still Such may we hope to share again. The sprightly thought inspires my strain; And mark, how like a horseman true, Lord Marmion's march I thus renew. CANTO FOURTH. THE CAMP. EUSTACE, I said, did blithely mark The first notes of the merry lark. The lark sung shrill, the cock he crew, And loudly Marmion's bugles blew, And, with their light and lively call, Brought groom and yeoman to the stall. Whistling they came, and free of heart; But soon their mood was changed: Complaint was heard on every part, Of something disarranged. * See King Lear. 15

Page  154 1b4 XARMIQI. CAo VrO Some clamoured loud for armour lost; Some brawled and wrangled with the host; "By Becket's bones," cried one, " I fear That some false Scot has stolen my spear!"Young Blount, Lord Marmion's second squire, Found his steed wet with sweat anud mire; Although the rated horse-boy sware, Last night he dressed him sleek and fair. While chafed the impatient squire like thunder, Old Hubert shouts, in fear and wonder — "Help, gentle Blount! help, comrades alll Bevis lies dying in his stall: To Marmnion who the plight dare tell, Of the good steed he loves so well?"-. Gaping for fear and ruth, they saw The charger panting on his straw; Till one, who would seem wisest, cried-.. " What else but evil could betide, With that cursed Palmer for our guide? Better we had through mire and bush Been lanthorn-led by Friar Rush." IL Fitz-Eustace, who the cause but guessed, Nor wholly understood, His comrades' clamorous plaints suppressed; He knew Lord Marmion's mood. Him, ere he issued forth, he sought, And foun found deep plunged in gloomy thought, And did his tale display Simply, as if he new of nought To cause such disarray. Lord Marmion gave attention cold, Nor marvelled at the wonders toldPassed them as accidents of course, And bade his clarions sound to horse. UL Young Henry Blount, meanwhile, the cost Had reckoned with their Scottish host And, as the charge he cast and paid, "Ill thou deserv'st thy hire," he said;....

Page  155 ~armT Iv. MAT.MI05I. Ad K "Dost see, thou knave, my horse's ph.ght? Fairies have ridden him all the night, And left him in a foam! I trust, that soon a conjuring band, With English cross and blazing brand, Shall drive the devils from this land, To their infernal honme: For in this haunted den, I trow, All night they trampled to and fro. The laughing host looked on the hire —. "Gramercy, gentle southern squire, And if thou com'st among the rest, With Scottish broad-sword to be blest, Sharp be the brand, and sure the blow, And short the pang to unde.rgo." — Here stayed their talk-for Marmio l Gave now the signal to set on. The Palmer showing forth the way, They journeyed all the morning day. IV. I The green-sward way was smooth and good, Through Humbie's and through Saltoun's wood; A forest glade, which, varying still, Here gave a view of dale 4nd hill; There narrower closed, till over head A vaulted screen the branches made. uA pleasant path," Fitz-Eustace said; " Such as where errant knights might'see Adventures of high chivalry; Might meet some damsel flying fast, With hair unbound, and looks aghast; And smooth and level course were here, In her defence to break a spear. Here, too, are twilight nooks and dells; And oft, in such, the story tells, The damsel kind, from danger freed, Did grateful pay her champion's meed."He spoke to cheer Lord Marmion's mindPerchance to show his lore designed; For Eustace much had pored Upon a huge romantic tome, In the hall-window of his home, nprinted at the'antique dome Of Caxton or De Worde. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ -

Page  156 156 SARMION. CAN-TO V, Therefore he spoke-but spoke in vain, For Marmion answered nought again. V. Now sudden distant trumpets shrill, In notes prolonged by wood aud hill, Were heard to echo far; Each ready archer grasped his bow, But by the flourish soon they know, They breathed no point of war. Yet cautious, as in foeman's land, Lord Marmion's order speeds the band, Some opener ground to gain; And scarce a furlong had they rode, When thinner trees, receding, showed A little woodland plain. Just in that advantageous glade, The halting troop a line had made, As forth from the opposing shade Issued a gallant train. VL First came the trumpets, at whose clang So late the forest echoes rang; On prancing steeds they forward pressed, With scarlet mantle, azure vest; Each at his trump a banner wore, Which Scotland's royal scutcheon bore; Heralds and pursuivants, by name Bute, Islay, Marchmount, Rothsay, came, In painted tabards, proudly showing Gules, Argent, Or, and Azure glowing, Attendant on a King-at-arms, Whose hand the armorial truncheon held, That feudal strife had often quelled, When wildest its alarms. VIL He was a man of middle age; In aspect manly, grave, and sage, As on king's errand come; But in the glances of his eye, A penetrating, keen, and sly Expression found its home;

Page  157 I O IVt MARMION. The flash of that satiric rage, Which, bursting on the early stage, Branded the vices of the age, And broke the keys of Rome. On milk-white palfrey forth he paced; His cap of maintenance was graeed With the proud heron-plume. From his steed's shoulder, loin, and breasm, Silk housings swept the ground, With Scotland's arms, device, and crest, Embroidered round and round. The double tressure might you see, First by Achaius borne, The thistle, and the fleur-de-lis, And gallant unicorn. So bright the king's armorial coat, That scarce the dazzled eye could note, In living colours, blazoned brave, The Lion, which his title gave. A train, which well beseemed his state, But all unarmed, around him wait. Still is thy name in high account, And still thy verse'has charms, Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, Lord Lion King-at-armsl ~I ~~~vHL Down from his horse did Marmion spring, Soon as he saw the Lion-King; For well the stately Baron knew, To him such courtesy was due, Whom royal James himself had crowned, And on his temples placed the round Of Scotland's ancient diadem; And wet his brow with hallowed wine, And on his finger given to shine The emblematic gem. Their mutual greetings duly made, The Lion thus his message said:"Though Scotland's King hath deeply swoee, Ne'er to knit faith with Henry more; And strictly hath forbid resort From England to his royal court; Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion's name And honours much his warlike fame, 16*

Page  158 AR ThI10N. I0A 7. IV. My liege hath deemed it shame, antd tak Of courtesy, to turn himr back; And by his order, I, your guide, Must lodging fit and fair provide, Till finds King James meet time to see The flower' of English chivalry." — IX, Though inly chafed at this delay, Lord Marmion beats it as he may. The Palmer, hismysterious guide, Beholding thus, his place supplie, Sought to take leave in vain: Strict was the Lion-King's command, That none who rode in Marmion's band Should sever from the train: " England has here enow of spies In Lady Heron's witching eyes;" To Marchmount thus, apart, he said, iBut fair pretext to Marmion made. The right-hand path they now decline, And trace against the stream the Tyne. At length up that wild dale they wind, Where Crichtoun-Castle crowns the bar;l For there the lion's care assigned A lodging meet for Marmnnion's rank, That castle rises on the steep Of the green vale of Tyne; And far beneath, where slow they creep From pool to eddy, dark and deep, Where alders moist, and willows Weep, You hear her streams repine. The towers in different ages rose; Their various architecture shows The builders' various hands; A mighty mass, that could oppose, When deadliest hatred fired its foes, The vengeful Douglas'bands. XL Crichtoun! though now thy miry cout But pens the lazy steer and sheep, Thy turrets rude, and tottered Slteps

Page  159 Au rTO. SCaIO. 159 I5 Have been the minstrel's loved resort Oft have I traced within thy fort, Of mouldering shields the mystic sesae, Scutcheons of honour, or pretence, Quartered in old armorial sort, Remains of rude magnificence: Nor wholly yet hath time defaced Thy lordly gallery fair; 1or yet the stony cord unbraced, Whose twisted knots, with roses laced, Adorn thy ruined stair. Still rises unimpaired, below, The court-yard's graceful portico; Above its cornice, row and row Of fair hewn facets richly show Their pointed diamond form, Though there but houseless cattle go To shield them from the storm. And, shuddering, still may we explore, Where oft whilome were captives pent, The darkness of thy Massy More; Or, from thy grass-grown battlement, May trace, in undulating line, The sluggish mazes of the Tyne. XII' Another aspect Crichtoun showed, As through its portal Marmion rode; i But yet'twas melancholy state Received him at the outer gate; For none were in the castle then, But women, boys, or aged men. With eyes scarce dried, the sorrowing dame, To welcome noble Marmion, came; Her son, a stripling twelve years old, Proffered the Baron's rein to hold; [For each man, that could draw a sword. Had marched that morning with their lord, Earl Adam Hepburn —he who-died On Flodden, by his sovereign's side. Long may his lady look in vain; She ne'er shall see his gallant train Come sweeping back through Crichtounit-eaaiI'Twas a,brave race, before the nameo Of hated Bothwell stained their fame.

Page  160 160 MARMION.'ANTO IV. XIIL And here two days did Marmion rest, With every rite that honour claims, Attended as the King's own guestSuch the command of royal James; Who marshalled then his land's array, Upon the Borough moor that lay. Perchance he would not foeman's eye Upon his gathering host should pry, Till full prepared was every band To march against the English land. Here while they d welt, did Lindesay's wit, Oft cheer the Baron's moodier fit; And, in his turn, he knew to prize Lord Marmion's powerful mind, and wise-. Trained in the lore of Rome and Greece, And policies of war and peace, XIV. It chanced, as fell the second night, That'on the battlements they walked, And, by the slowly fading light, Of varying topics talked; And, unaware, the Herald-bard Said Marmion might his toil have spared, In travelling so far; For that a messenger from heaven In. vain to James had counsel given Against the English war: And, closer questioned, thus he told A tale, which chronicles of old In Scottish story have enrolled;-.XV. SRM DAVID LINDESAY'S TALIL "Of all the palaces so fair, Built for the royal dwelling, In Scotland, far beyond compare Linhthgow is excelling; And in its park, in jovial June, flow sweet the merry linnet's tune, How blithe the blackbird's lay!

Page  161 CANTO XV. MARMMOx. 161 The'wild buck bells from ferny brake, The coot dives merry on the lake, The saddest heart might pleasure take To see all nature gay. But June is to our Sovereign dear The heaviest month in all the year: Too well his cause of grief you know — June saw his father's overthrow. Woe to the traitors, who could bring The princely boy against:his King! Still in his conscience burns the sting. In offices as stricta s BLent, Eing James's June is ever spent. XVI. "When last this ruthful month was come, And in Linlithgow's holy dome The King, as wont, was praying; While for his royal father's soul The chaunters sung, the bells did toll, The Bishop mass was sayingFor now the year brought round again The day the luckless king was slain — In Katharine's aisle the monarch knelt, With sackcloth-shirt, and iron belt, And eyes with sorrow streaming; Around him, in their stalls of state, The Thistle's Knight-Companions sate, Their banners o'er them beaming. I too was there, and, sooth' to tell, Bedeafened with the jangling knell, Was watching where the sunbeams fell, Through the stained casement gleaming:. But, while I marked what next befell, It seemed as I were dreaming. Stepped from the crowd a ghostly wight, In azure gown, with cincture white; His forehead bald, his head was bare, Down hung at length his yellow hair.Now, mock me not, when, good my Lord, I pledge to you my knightly word, That, when I saw his placid graces

Page  162 t62 MARMION. CANTO IV. His simple majesty of face, His solemn bearing, and his pace So stately gliding on,Seemed to me ri'er did limner paint So just an image of the saint, Who propped the Virgin in her faint,The loved Apostle John. XVIL "He stepped before the Monarch's chair, And stood with rustic plainness there, And little reverence made; Nor head, nor body, bowed nor bent, But on the desk his arm he leant, And words like these he said, In a low voice, —but never tone So thrilled through vein, and nerve, and bone:-..' My mother sent me from afar, Sir King, to warn thee not to war,Woe waits on thine array; If war thou wilt, of woman fair, Her witching wiles and wanton snare, James Stuart, doubly warned, beware: God keep thee as he mayl' — The wondering Monarch seemed to seek For answer, and found none; And when he raised his head to speak, The monitor was gone. The Marshal and myself had cast To stop him as he outward past; But, lighter than the whirlwind's blast, He vanished from our eyes, Like sunbeam on the billow cast, That glances but, and dies." XVIIIL While Lindesay told this marvel strange, The twilight was so pale, He marked not Marmion's colour change, While listening to the tale:

Page  163 But, after'a suspended pause, The Baron spoke: —" Of Nature's laws So strong I hold the force, That never super-human cause Could a'er controul their course; And, three days since, had judged your aim Was but to make your guest your game, But I have seen, since past the Tweed, What much has changed my sceptic creed, And made me credit aught."-He staid, And seemed to wish his words unsaid; But, by that strong emotion pressed, Which prompts us to unload our breast, Even when discovery's pain, To Lindesay did at length unfold The tale his village host had told,'At Gifford, to his train. Nought of the Palmer says he there, And nought of Constance, or of Clare: The thoughts, which broke his sleep, he seenms To mention but as feverish dreams. "In vain," said he, "to rest I spread My burning limbs, and couched my head: Fantastic thoughts returned; And, by their wild dominion led, My heart within me burned. So sore was the delirious goad, I took my steed, and forth I rode, And, as the moon shone bright and cold, Soon reached the camp upon the wold. The southern entrance I passed through, And halted, and -my bugle blew. Methought an answer met my earYet was -the blast so low and drear, So hollow, and so faintly blown, It might be echo of my own. Thus judging, fof a little space I listened, ere I left the place; But scarce could trust my eyeu,...........~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Page  164 Nor yet can think they served me te, When sudden in the ring I view, In form. distinct of shape and hue, A mounted champion rise.ryve fought, Lord-Lion, many a day,. In single fight, and mixed affray, And ever, I myself may say, Have borne me as a knights But when this unexpected foe Seemed starting from the gulph below~I care not though the truth I showI trembled with affright; And as I placed in rest my spea!r My hand so shook for very fear, I scarce could couch it right. XWhy need my tongue the issue tell? We ran our course-my charger fell:What could he'gainst the shock of hell-F-. I rolled upon the plain. High o'er my head, with threatening harnx The spectre shook his naked brand,Yet didc the worst remain; My dazzled eyes I upward cast — Not opening hell itself could blast Their sight, like what I saw! Full on his face the moonbeam strook-. A face could never be mistook! I knew the stern vindictive look, And held my breath for awe. I saw the face of one who, fled To foreign climes, has long been dead. — I well believe the last; For ne'er, from visor raised, did stare I human warrior, with a glare So grimly and so ghast. Thrice o'er my head he shook the blade;, But when to good Saint George I prayed, (The first time e'er I asked his aid,) He plunged it in the sheath; And, on his courser mounting light, He seemed to vanish from my sightt i,- X

Page  165 o I N, NAMIMOX W5 The moonbeam drooped, and deepest aght Sunk down upon the heath.-'Twere long to tell what cause I have To know his face, that met me there, Called by his hatred from the grave, To cumber upper air: Dead or alive, good cause had he To be my mortal enemy."XXIL Marvelled Sir David of the Mount; Then, learned in story,'gan recount Such chance had hap'd of old, When once, near Norham, there did fight A spectre fell, of fiendish might, In likeness of a Scottish knight, With Brian Bulmer bold, And trained him nigh to disallow The aid of his baptismal vow. "And such a phantom, too,'tis said, With Highland broad-sword, targe, an dpaid, And fingers red with gore, Is seen in Rothiemurcus glade, Or where the sable pine-trees shade Dark Tomantoul, and Achnaslaid, Dromouchty, or Glenmore. And yet, whate'er such legends say, Of warlike demon, ghost, or fay, On mountain, moor, or plain, Spotless in faith, in bosom bold, True son of chivalry should hold These midnight terrors.vain; i For seldom have such spirits power To harm, save in the evil hour, When guilt we meditate within, Or harbour unrepented sin"- Lord Marmion turned him half aside, And twice to clear his voice he tried, Then pressed Sir David's hanid, But nought, at length, in answer said$ And here their farther converse staid, Ech ordering that b band ~~ ---— ~'~- ~~ —":~-`-~~' —-— ~~- ~ -— ~~~~-~~-~~-~~ __ _____1__7:__:_____1___~~.,

Page  166 1i 66 ~tBtRMIB AN05 Should bowne them with the rising day. To Scotland's camp to take their way,Such was the King's command. XXIIL Early they took Dun-Edin's road, And I could trace each step they trcde~, Hill, brook, nor dell, nor rock, nor stone Lies on the path to me unknown. Much might it boast of storied lore; But, passing such digression o'er, Suffice it, that their route was laid Across the furzy hills of Braid. They passed the glen and scanty rill, And climbed the opposing bank, until They gained the top of Blackford Hill. XXIV. Blackford! on whose uncultured breast, Among the broom, and thorn, and whip, A truant-boy, I sought the nest, Or listed, as I lay at rest, While rose, on breezes thin, The murmur of the city crowd, And, from his steeple jangling loud, Saint Giles's mingling din. Now, from the summit to the plain, Waves all the hill with yellow grain; And o'er the landscape as I look, Nought do I see unchanged remain, Save the rude cliffs and chiming broolk To me they make a heavy moan, Of early friendships past and.gonea jXX v But different far the change has been, Since Marmion, from the crown Of Blackford, saw that martial scene Upon the bent so brown: Thousand pavilions, white as snow, Spread o'er the Borough-moor below Upland, and dale, and down —.

Page  167 VANTO IV. MA.,roN. I67 A thousand did I say?' I ween, Thousands on thousands there was seen, That chequered all the heath between The streamlet and the town; In crossing ranks extending far, ]Forming a camp irregular; Oft giving way, where still there stood Some reliques of the old oak wood, That darkly huge did intervene, And tamed the glaring white with green; In these extended lines there lay A martial kingdom's vast array. XXVL For from Hebudes, dark with rain, To eastern Lodon's fertile plain, And from the southern Redswire edge, To farthest Rosse's rocky ledge; Erom west to east. from south to north, Scotland sent all'her warriors:forth. Marmion might hear the mingled hum Of myriads up. the mountain come; The horses' tramp, and tingling clank, Where chiefs reviewed their vassal rank, And charger's shrilling neigh; And see the shifting lines advance, While frequent flashed, from shield and lanc, The sun's reflected ray. XXVIL Thin curling in the morning air, The wreaths of failing smoke declare, To embers now the brands decayed, Where the night-watch their fires had made They saw, slow rolling on the plain, Full many a baggage-cart and wain, And dire artillery's clumsy car, By sluggish oxen tugged to war; And ther were Borthwick's Sisters Seven,* And culverins which France had given. Seven culverins so called, cast by one Iortliwick

Page  168 168 R oM. CANTO IV Ill-omened gift! the guns remain The conqueror's spoil on Flodden plain. XXVIIL Nor marked they less, where in the air A thousand streamers flaunted fair; Various in shape, device, and hue, Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue, Broad, narrow, swallow-tailed, and square Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol, there O'er the pavilions flew. Highest, and midmost, was descried The royal banner, floating wide; The staff, a pine-tree strong and straight, Pitched deeply in a massive stone, Which still in memory is shown, Yet bent beneath the standard's weight, Whene'er the western wind unrolled, With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold, And gave to view the dazzling field, Where, in proud Scotland's royal shield, The ruddy Lion ramped in gold. XXI. Lord Marmion viewed the landscape bright, — lie viewed it with a chief's delight,Until within him burned his heart, And lightning from his eye did part, As on the battle-day; Such glance did falcon never dart, When stooping on his prey. "OhI well, Lord-Lion, hast thou said, Thy King from warfare to dissuade Were but a vain essay; For, by Saint George, were that host mine, Not power infernal, nor divine, Should once to peace my soul'incline, Till I had dimmed their armour's shine In glorious battle fray!" — Answered the bard, of milder mood: "Fair is the sight,-and yet'twere good, That kings would think withal,

Page  169 JAMTO iv, ITanrIQN. 169 When peace and wealth their land have blessed,'Tis better to sit still at rest, Than rise, perchance to falL" — Still on the spot Lord Marmion stayed, For fairer scene he ne'er surveyed. When sated with the martial show That peopled all the plain below, The wandering eye could o'er it go, And mark the distant city glow With gloomy splendour red; For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow, That round her sable turrets flow, The morning beams were shed, And tinged them with a lustre proud, Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud, Such dusky grandeur clothed the height, Where the huge castle holds its state, And all the steep slope down, Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, Piled deep and massy, close and high, Mine own romantic town! But northward far, with purer blaze, On Ochil mountains fell the rays, And as each heathy top they kissed, It gleamed a purple amethyst. Yonder the shores of Fife you saw; Here Preston-Bay, and Berwick-Law; And, broad between them rolled, The gallant Firth the eye might note, Whose islands on its bosom float, Like emeralds chased in gold. Fitz-Eustace' heart felt closely pent; As if to give his rapture vent, The spur he to his charger lent, And raised his bridle-hand, And, making demi-volte in air, Cried, "Where's the crowd that would not dare To fight for such a land! The Lindesay smiled his joy to see; Nor Marmion's frown repressed his glee. 16s

Page  170 170 mARMION. CAxNTO IV. XXXL Thus while they looked, a flourish proud, ~ Where mingled trump, and clarion loud, i ai And fife and kettle-drum, And sackbut deep, and psaltery, And war-pipe with discordant cry, And cymbal clattering to the sky, Making wild music bold and high, Did up the mountain come; The whilst the bells, with distant chime, Merrily tolled the hour of prime, And thus the Lindesay spoke:"Thus clamour still the war-notes when The King to mass his way has ta'en, Or to Saint Catherine's of Sienne, Or chapel of Saint Rocque. To you they speak of martial fame; But me remind of peaceful game, When blither was their cheer, Thrilling in Falkland-woods the air, In signal none his steed should spare, But strive which foremost might repair To the downfall of the deer. XXXIL l Nor less," he said,-" when looking forth, I view yon Empress of the North Sit on her hilly throne; HIer palace's imperial bowers, Her castle, proof to hostile powers, Her stately halls, and holy towersNor less," he said, " I moan, To think what woe mischance may bring, And how these merry bells may ring The death-dirge of our gallant King; Or, with their larum, call The burghers forth to watch and ward,'Gainst southern sack and fires to guard Dun-Edin's leaguered wall.But not, for my presaging thought, Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought! Lord Marmion, I say nay:God is the guider of the field, Hie breaks the champion's spear and shield,

Page  171 Nlo. TOVRr. 1711 But thou thyself shalt say, When joins yon host in deadly stowre, That England's dames must weep in bower, Her monks the death-mass sing; For never saw'st thou such a power Led on by such a KIing."And now, down winding to the plain, The barriers of the camp they gain, And there they made a stay.There stays the Minstrel, till he fling His hand o'er every Border string, And fit his harp the pomp to sing, Of Scotland's ancient Court and King. In the succeeding lay. INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH To GEOaRGE ELLIS, EsQ. Edinburgh. When dark December glooms the day, And takes our autumn joys away; When short and scant the sunbeam throw.r Upon the weary waste of snows, A cold and profitless regard, Like patron on a needy bard; When sylvan occupation's done, And o'er the chimney rests the gun, And hang in idle trophy, near, The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear; When wiry terrier, rough and grim, And greyhound with his length of limNb And pointer, now employed no more, Cumber our parlour's narrow floor; When in his stall the impatient steed Is long condemned to rest and. feed;

Page  172 ~72a MADD1OX. VA:.TQ R. When from our snow-encircled home, Scarce cares the hardiest step to roam. Since path is none, save that to bring The needful water from the spring; When wrinkled, thrice con'd oer, Beguiles the dreary hour no more, And darkling politician, crossed, Inveighs against the lingering post, And answering house-wife sore complains Of carriers' snow4impeded wains: When such the country cheer, I come, Well pleased to seek our city home; For converse, and for books, to change The Forest's melancholy range, And welcome, with renewed delight, The busy day, and social night. Not here need my desponding rhyme Lament the ravages of time, As erst by Newark's riven towers, And Ettricke stripped of forest bowers.$ True,-Caledonia's Queen is changed, Since on her dusky summit ranged, Within its steepy limits pent, By bulwark, line, and battlement, And flanking towers, and laky flood, Guarded and garrisoned she stood, Denying entrance or resort, Save at each tall embattled port; Above whose arch, suspended, hung Portcullis spiked with iron prong. That long is gone,-but not so long, Since, early closed, and opening late, Jealous revolved the studded gate; Whose task from eve to morning tide A wicket churlishly supplied. Stern then, and steel-girt was thy brow. Dun-Edin! 0, how altered now, When safe amid thy mountain court Thou sitt'st, like Empress at her sport, And liberal, unconfined, and free, Flinging thy white arms to the sea, See Introdaction to Canto I!. I I

Page  173 C"TO V. AMON. ra For thy dark cloud, with umbered lower, That hung o'er cliff, and lake, and tower, Thou gleam'st against the western ray Ten thousand lines of brighter day, Not she, the championess of old, In Spenser's magic tale enrolled, — She for the charmed spear renowned, Which forced each knight to kiss the ground — Not she more changed, when, placed at rest, What time she was Malbecco's guest, She gave to flow her maiden vest; When from the corslet's grasp relieved, Free to the sight her bosom heaved; Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile, Erst hidden by the aventayle; And down her shoulders graceful rolled: Her locks profuse, of paly gold. They who whilome, in midnight fight, Had marvelled at her matchless might,'JAo less her maiden charms approved, But looking liked, and liking loved. The sights could jealous pangs beguile, And charm Malbecco's cares awhile; And he, the wandering Squire of Dames, Forgot his Columbella's claims, And passion, erst unknown, could gain The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane; Nor durst light Paridel advance, Bold as he was, a looser glance, — She charmed, at once, and tamed the heart, incomparable Britomarte! So thou, fair Cityl disarrayed Of battled wall, and rampart's aid, As stately seem'st, but lovelier far Than in that panoply of war. Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne Strength and security are flown; Still, as of yore, Queen of the North! Still canst thou send thy children forth Ne'er readier at alarm-bell's call Thy burghers rose to man thy wall, Than now, in danger, shall be thing Thy dauntless voluntary line;

Page  174 174 MARMION. CatTo For fosse and turret proud to stand, Their breasts the bulwarks of the land. Thy thousands, trained to martial toil, Full red would stain their native soil, Ere from thy mural crown there fell The slightest knosp, or pinnacle. And if it come-as come it may, Dun-Edinl that eventful dayIRenowned for hospitable deed, That virtue much with heaven may plead, In patriarchal times whose care Descending angels deigned to share; That claim may wrestle blessings down On those who fight for the Good Town, Destined in every age to be Refuge of injured royalty; Since first, when conquering York arose, To Henry meek she gave repose, Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe, Great Bourbon's reliques, sad she saw. Truce to these thoughts-I-for, as they rise, How gladly I avert mine eyes, Bodings, or true or false, to change, For fiction's fair romantic range, Or for Tradition's dubious light, That hovers'twixt the day and night: Dazzling alternately and dim, Her wavering lamp I'd rather trim, Knights, squires, and lovely dames to see, Creation of my fantasy, Than gaze abroad on reeky fen, And make of mists invading men.Who loves not more the night of June'Than dull December's gloomy noon? The moonlight than the fog of frost? And can we say, which cheats the most? But who shall teach my harp to gain A sound -of the romantic strain, Whose Anglo-Norman tones whilere Could win the Second Henry's ear, Famed Beauclerc called, for that he lovee The minstrel, and his lay approved?

Page  175 GA.ITO o. M]ARMlOXN. Who shall these lingering notes redeem, Decaying on oblivion's stream; Such notes as from the Breton tongue Marie translated, Blondel sung? — O! born Time's ravage to repair, And make thy dying Muse thy care; Who when his scythe her hoary foe Was poising for the final blow, The weapon from his hand could wring, And break his glass, and shear his wing, And bid, reviving in his strain, The gentle poet live again; Thou, who canst give to lightest lay An unpedantic moral gay,, Nor less the dullest theme bid fit; On wings of unexpected wit; In letters as in life approved, Example honoured, and beloved, — Dear ELLIS! to the bard impart A lesson of thy magic art, To win at once the head and heart — At once to charm, instruct, and mend, lMy guide, my pattern, and my friendl Such minstrel lesson to bestow Be long thy pleasing task,-but, O0 No more by thy example teach What few can practise, all can preach; With even patience to endure Lingering disease, and painful cure, And boast affliction's -pangs subdued By mild and manly fortitude. Enough, the lesson has been given: Forbid the repetition, Heaven! Come, listen, then! for thou hast known, And loved, the Minstrel's varying tone, Who, like his Border sires of old, Waked a wild measure, rude and bold, Till Windsor's oaks and Ascot plain With wonder heard the northern strain. Come, listen!-bold in thy applause, The Bard shall scorn pedantic laws; And, as the ancient art could stain Achievements on the storied pane,

Page  176 IA|RMION~. 7ANTO A. Irregularly traced: and planned, But yet so glowing and so grand; So shall he strive, in changetul hue Field, feast, and combat, to renew, And loves, and arms, and harpers' glee, And all the pomp of chivalry. CANTO FIFTH. TH I COURT. THE train has left the hills of Braid; The baTrrier guard have open made (So Lindesay bade) the palisade, That closed the tented ground, Their men the warders backward drew, And carried pikes as they rode through, Into its ample bound. Fast ran the Scottish warriors there, Upon the Southern band to stare; And envy with their wonder rose, To see such well-appointed foes; Such length of shafts, such mighty bows, So huge, that many simple thought, But for a vaunt such weapons wrought; And little deemed their force to feel, Through links of mail, and plates of steel, When, rattling upon Flodden vale, The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail.,1j 1 IIL Nor less did Marmion's skilful view Glance every line and squadron through; 1

Page  177 CANTO V. MARION1. 177 And much he marvelled one small land Could marshal forth such various band: For men-at-arms were here, Heavily sheathed in mail and plate, Like iron towers for strength and weight, On Flemish steeds of bone and height, With battle-axe and spear. Young knights and squires, a lighter train, Practised their chargers on the plain, By aid of leg, of hand, and rein, Each warlike feat to show; To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain, And high curvett, that not in vain The sword-sway might descend amain On foeman's casque below. He saw the hardy burghers there March armed, on foot, with faces bare, For visor they wore none, Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight; But burnished were their corslets bright, Their brigantines, and gorgets light, Like very silver shone. Long pikes they had for standing fight, Two-handed swords they wore, And many wielded mace of weight, And bucklers bright they bore. *tL On foot the yeoman too, but dressed In his steel jack, a swarthy vest, With iron quilted well; Each at his back, (a slender store,) His forty days' provision bore, As feudal statutes tell His arms were halberd, axe, or spear, A cross-bow there, a hagbut here,. A dagger.knife and brand.Sober he seemed, and sad of cheer, As loth to leave his cottage dear, And march to foreign strand; Or musing who would guide his steer, To till the fallow land.

Page  178 178 R ARMIO. CrNTO V. Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye Did aught of dastard terror lie;More dreadful far his ire, Than theirs, who, scorning danger's name, In eager mood to battle came, Their valour like light straw on flane, A fierce but fading fire. IV. Not so the Borderer:-bred to war, He knew the battle's din afar, And joyed to hear it swell. His peaceful day was slothful ease; Nor harp, nor pipe, his ear could please, Like the loud slogan yell. On active steed, with lance and blade, The light-armed pricker plied his trade — Let nobles fight for fame; Let vassals follow where they lead, Burghers, to guard their townships, bleed, But war's the Borderers' game. Their gain-their glory-their delight, To sleep the day —maraud the night, O'er mountain, moss, -and moor; Joyful to fight they took their way, Scarce caring who might win the day, Their booty was secure. These, as Lord Marmion's train passed by, Looked on at first with careless eye, Nor marvelled aught, well taught to know The form and force of English bow. But when they saw the Lord arrayed In splendid arms and rich brocade, Each Borderer to his kinsman said"Hist, RinganI seest thou there! Canst guess which road they'll homeward ride? 01 could we but on Border side, By Eusedale glen, or Liddell's tide, Beset a prize so fair! That fangless. Lion, too, their guide, Might chance to lose his glistering hide; Brown Maudlin, of that doublet pied, Could make a kirtle rare."

Page  179 -V. Next Marnilon marked the Celtic rate, Of different language, form, and face, -A various race of man; Just then the chiefs their tribes arraye&d And wild and garish semblance made, i The chequered-trews,:and belted;plaid, And varying notes:the war-pipes: brayc d To every varying clan; Wild through their -red or. sable. hair Looked out their eyes, with savage t~azr, On Marmion as he past; Their legs above the knee were bare; Their frame was sinewy, short, and sqarea And hardened to the blast; Of taller race, the chiefs they own Were by the eagle's plumage-known. The hunted red-deer's undressed hidei Their hairy buskins well supplied; The graceful bonnet decked their head; i Back from their shoulders hung the plait( i A broad-sword of unwieldy length, i -A dagger proved for edge and strength, A studded targe they wore, And quivers, bows, and shafts,-but, (.) I Short was the shaft, and weak the bow, To that which England bore. i The Isles-men carried at their backs The ancient Danish battle-axe. They raised a wild and wondering cry, i As with his guide rode Marmion by. Loud were their clamouring tongues, as w}1.e! The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen, And, with their cries discordant mixed, Grumbled and yelled the-pipes betwixt.!hus through the Scottish camp they pascd, And reached the City gate at last, Where all around, a wakeful guard, Armed burghers kept their watch aud war.I

Page  180 Well had they cause of jealous tear, When lay encamped, in field so near, The Borderer and the Mountaineer. As through the bustling streets they geAll was alive with martial show; At every turn, with dinning clang, The armourer's anvil clashed and rang; Or toiled the swarthy smith, to- wheel The bar that arms the charger's heel; Or axe, or falchion, to the side Of jarring grind-stone was applied. Page,.groom, and squire, with hurrying pace, Through street, and lane, and market-place, Bore lance, or casque, or sword; While burghers, with important face, Described each new-come lord, Discussed his lineage, told his name, His following,* and his warlike fame.The Lion led to lodging meet, Which high o'erlooked the crowded street; There must the Baron rest, Till past the hour of vesper tide, And then to Holy-Rood must ride,Such was the King's; behest. Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns A banquet rich, and costly wines, To Marmion and his train. And when the appointed hour succeeds The Baron dons his peaceful weeds, And following Lindesay as he leads, The palace-halls they gain. VIL Old Holy-Rood rung merrily, That night, with wassel, mirth, and gTee: King James within her princely bower Feasted the chiefs of Scotland's power, Summoned to spend the parting hour; For he had charged, that his array Should southward march by break of day, "FolYow/ig-Feudal Retainera

Page  181 OL'4TO V. MARMION.9 Well loved that splendid monarch aye The banquet and the song; By day the tourney, and by night The merry dance, traced fast and light, The masquers quaint, the pageant;brigh, The revel loud and long. This;feast outshone his banquets past; It was his blithest-and his last. The dazzling lamps, from gallery gay, Cast on the court a dancing ray;.Here to the harp did minstrels sing; There ladies touched a softer string; With long-eared cap, and motley vest, The licensed fool retailed his jest; H Iis magic tricks the juggler plied; At dice and draughts the gallants viodzl While some, in close recess.apart, Courted the ladies of their heart, Nor courted them in vain; For often, in the parting hour, Victorious love asserts his power O'er coldness and disdain; And flinty is her heart, can view To battle march a lover trueCan hear, perchance, his last adieu, Nor own her share of pain. VIIL. Through this mixed crowd of glee and r'ne, The King to greet Lord Marmion camne, While, reverend, all made room. An easy task it was, I trow,,ling James's manly form to know, Although, his courtesy to show, He doffed, to Marmion bending low, His broidered cap and plume. For royal were his garb and mien, His cloak, of crimson velvet piled, Trimmed with the fur of martin wild; Mis vest, of changeful satin sheen, The dazzled eye beguiled; 1His gorgeous collar hung adown, V Wrought with the badge of Scotland's creiw, 1 he thistle brave, of old renowna IIL- _ —_ —- — _111 __1_:~~- _~_L _~Zj17 1 _ _ _ _

Page  182 l1 is trusty blade, Toledo right,. l)escended from a baldric bright;. White were his buskins, on the heel1 His spurs inlaid of gold and steel; His bonnet, all of crimson fair, Was buttoned with a ruby rare: And Marmion deemed he ne'er had seeum A prince of such a noble mien. The monarch's form was middle siei; For feat of strength, or exercise, Shaped in proportion fair; And hazel was his eagle eye, And auburn of the darkest dye, His short curled beard and hair. Light was his footstep in the dance, And firm his stirrup in the lists; And, oh! he had that merry glance, That seldom lady's heart resists. Lightly from fair to fair he fiew,, And loved to plead, lament, and sue; —.Suit lightly won', and short-lived painD For monarchs seldom sigh in vain. I said he joyed in banquet-bower; But, mid his mirth,'twas' often stranger How suddenly his, cheer would eha'ng His look o'ercast and lower,. If, in a sudden turn, he felt The pressure of his iron belt, That bound his breast in penance-p In memory of his father slain. Even so'twas strange how, evermoxre Soon as the passing pang was o'er, Forward he rushed,. with double glee5 Into the stream of revelry: Thus, dim-seen object of affright Startles the courser in his flight, And half he halts, half springs aside; But feels the quickening spur applied+. A-ld, straining on the tightened rein, Scours doubly swift o'me hill anda pia

Page  183 CANTO. 3AIMION. 188 X. O'er James's heart, the courtiers say, Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sways To Scotland's court she came, To be a hostage for her lord, Who Cessford's gallant heart had gored, And with the King to make accord, Had sent his lovely dame. Nor to that lady free alone Did the gay King allegiance own; For the fair Queen of France Sent him a Turquois ring, and glove, And charged him, as her knight and love For her to break a lance; And strike three strokes with Scottish brand, And march three miles on southern land, And bid the banners of his band In English breezes dance. And thus, for France's Queen, he drest His manly limbs in mailed vest; And thus admitted English fair, His inmost counsels still to share; And thus, for both, he madly planned'The ruin of himself and landl And yet, the sooth to tell, TNor England's fair, nor France's Queen, Were worth one pearl-drop, bright and sheen, From Margaret's eyes that fell,His own Queen Margaret, who;in Lithgow's bowe. All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour. XL The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile, And weeps the weary day, The war against her native soil, Her Monarch's risk in battle broil: — And in gay Holy-Rood, the while, Dame Heron rises with a smile Upon the harp to play. Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er The strings her fingers flew; And as she touched and tuned them all, Even her bosom's rise and fall Was plainer given

Page  184 184 MARMtON. CANTO V. For, all for heat, was laid aside Her wimple, and her hood untied. And first she pitched her voice to sing, Then glanced her dark eye on the King, And then around the silent ring; And laughed, and blushed, and oft did say Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay, She could not, would not, durst not play: At length, upon the harp, with glee Mingled with arch simplicity, A soft, yet lively, air she rung, While thus the wily lady sung. XIL LOCHINVAR. LADY HERONTS9 SONG{ O, young Lochlinvar is come out of the west, Thirough all the wide Border his steed was the best, And save his good broad-sword he weapons had none; Ile rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. ITe staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, Ilc:wram the Eske river where ford there was none; But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late; F or a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bride's-men and kinsmen, and brothers and all Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) l0 O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, GOI to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" — "I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one. measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." _________ ________________________

Page  185 CANTO Y. MAIMION. 85; The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up, He quaffed of the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. lie took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar," Now tread we a measure! " said young Lochinvar. So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, "'Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,. So light to the saddle before her he sprung! " She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar. There was mounting'mong Grxemes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, lHave ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? XlIL The Monarch o'er the syren hung, And beat the measure as she sung; And, pressing closer, and more near, He whispered praises in her ear. In loud applause the courtiers vied; And ladies winked, and spoke aside. The witching dame to Marmion threw A glance, where seemed to reign The pride that claims applauses due, And of her royal conquest, too, A real or feigned disdain: Familiar was the look, and told, Marmion and she were friends of old. The King ob:erved their meeting eyes, With something like displeased surprise; L__~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Page  186 186 VA-RUION. OTATO V, For monarchs ill can rivals brook, Even in a word, or smile, or look. Straight took he forth the parchment- broad, Which Marmion's high commission showed-: "Our Borders sacked by many a raid, Our peaceful liege-men robbed," he said; "On day of truce our Warden slain, Stout Barton killed, his vessels ta'enUnworthy were we here to reign, Should these for vengeance cry in vain; Our full defiance, hate and scorn, Our herald has to Henry borne."XIn He paused, and led where Douglas stood, And with stern eye the pageant viewed; I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore, Who coronet of Angus bore, And, when his blood and heart were high, Did the third James in camp defy, And all his minions led to die On Lauder's dreary fiat: Princes and favourites long grew tame, And trembled at the homely name Of Archibald Bell-the-Cat. The same who left the dusky vale Of Hermitage in Liddisdale, Its dungeons, and its towers, Where Bothwell's turrets brave the air, And Bothwell bank is blooming fair, To fix his princely bowers. Though now, in age, he had laid down His armour for the peaceful gown,. And for a staff his brand, Yet often would flash forth the fire, That could, in youth, a monarch's ire And minion's pride withstand; And even that day, at council board, Unapt to soothe his sovereign's mood, Against the war had Angus stood, And chafed his royal lord. XV. His giant-form, like ruinel tower, Though fallen its muscles' brawny vauit,

Page  187 H/uge-boned', nd- tall, and grimi. and: ga*4it Seemed o'er the gaudy scene to lower. His locks and beard in silver grew; His eye-brows kept their sable hue. Near Douglas when the Monarch stood His bitter speech he thus pursued: — "Lord Marmion, since these letters say That in the north you needs must stay, While slightest hopes of peace remain, Uncourteous speech it were, and stern, To say-Return to Lindisfarn, Until my herald come again. — Then rest you in Tantallon Hold; Your host shall be the Douglas bold, — A chief unlike his sires of old. lIe wears their motto ou his blade, Their blazon o'er his towers displayed... Yet loves his sovereign to oppose, More than to face his country's foes. And, I bethink me, by Saint Stephen, But e'en this morn to me was given A prize, the iirst-fruits of the war, Ta'eun by a galley from Dunbar, A bevy of the maids of heaven. Under vyour guard, these holy maids Shall safe return to cloister shades, And, while they at Tantallon stay, Requiem for Cochran's soul may say."And, with the slaughtered favourite's name Across the Monarch's brow there came A cloud of ire, remorse, and shame. XVIL In answer nought could Angus speak: his proud heart swelled well nigh to breaki He turned aside, and down his cheek A burning tear there stole. His hand the monarch sudden took, That sight his kind heart couldc nlot: booka "Now, by the Bruce's soul, Angus, my hasty speech forgive! For sure as doth his spirit live, As he said of the Douglas old, I well may say of you, —

Page  188 t88 ARMIOx. CANTO v. That never king did subject hold, In speech more free, in war more bold, More tender, and more true: Forgive me, Douglas, once again.And, while the King his hand did strain, The old man's tears fell down like reain. To seize the moment Marmion tried, And whispered to the King aside:"Oh! let such tears unwonted plead For respite short from dubious deed' A child will weep at bramble's smart, A maid to see her sparrow part, A stripling for a woman's heart: But woe awaits a country, when She sees the tears of bearded men. Then, oh! what omen, dark and high, When Douglas wets his manly eyel I XVIL Displeased was James, that stranger viewed And tampered with his changing imood. "Laugh those that.can, weep those that iLayo" Thus did the fiery Monarch say, "Southward I march by break of day; And if within Tantallon strong, The good Lord Marmion tarries long, Perchance our meeting next may fail At Tamworth, in his castle-hall."The haughty Marmion felt the taunt, And answered, grave, the royal vaunt: 6" Much honoured were my humble ho:1101, If in its halls King James should coll; But Nottingham has archers good, And Yorkshire men are stern of l0oo(d; Northumbrian prickers wild and rude. On Derby Hills the paths are steep; In Ouse and Tyne the fords are deep; And many a banner will be torn, And many a knight to earth be borne, And many a sheaf of arrows spent, Ere Scotland's King shall cross the Trent: Yet pause, brave prince, while yet you liy."The Monarch lightly turned away,

Page  189 oArTO V. TxoRmOn. i M9 And to his nobles loud did call,"Lords, to the dance,-a hall! a halll" Himself his cloak and sword flung by, And led Dame Heron gallantly; And minstrels, at the royal order, Rung out —" Blue Bonnets o'er the Border," XVIIL Leave we these revels now, to tell What to Saint Hilda's maids befell, Whose galley, as they sailed again To Whitby, by a Scot was ta'enm Now at Dun-Edin did they bide, Till James should of their fate decide; And soon, by his command, Were gently summoned to preparei To journey under Marmion's care, As escort honoured, safe, and fair, Again to English. land. The Abbess told her chaplet o'er, Nor knew which Saint she should implore; For when she thought of Constance, sore She feared Lord Marmion's mood. And judge what Clara must have felt! The sword, that hung in Marmion's belt, THad drunk de Wilton's blood. Unwittingly, King James had given,'As guard to Whitby's shades, The man most dreaded under heaven By these defenceless maids; Yet what petition could avail, Or who would listen to the tale Of woman, prisoner and nun, Mid bustle of a war begun? They deemed it hopeless to avoid The convoy of their dangerous guide, XIX. Their lodging, so the King assigned, To Marmion's, as their guardian, joined; * The ancient cry to make room for a dance, or pageant e..............................~~ ~.~...s.

Page  190 i 1i Y~QO IAR~LI90 OARM1O1 A And thus it fell, that, passing nigh,.4 The Palmer caught the Abbess' eye,:3 {"~Who warned him by a scroll, l'] She had a secret to reveal, i. That much concerned the Church's weal, ] And health of sinners' soul; And, with deep charge of secrecy, She named a place to meet, Within an open balcony, That hung from dizzy pitch, and high Above the stately street; To which, M common to each home, At night they might in.secret come. i I~XX. At night in,secret there they came, I IThe Palmer and the holy dame. ii |The moon iamong the clouds rode high, And all the city hum was by. i i Upon the street, where late before',| Did din of war and warriors roar, -:' You might have heard a pebble faXf A beetle hum, a cricket sing, An owlet flap his boding wing:i iOn Giles's steeple tall The antique buildings, climbing high, Whose Gothic frontlets sought the sky, Were here wrapt deep in shade; There on their brows the moon-beam blrok,,| Through the faint wreaths of silvery suiok $, And on the casements played. And other light was none to see, Save torches gliding far, Before some chieftain of degree, Who left the royal revelry To bowne him for the war. — l A solemn scene the Abbess chose; A solemn hour, her secret to disclose. 3 IIX XXL 0, holy Palmer!" she began,-,For sure he must be sainted -nma, I.} ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ __ I 1 1_ —. a ],

Page  191 UNTO V. MItARMION. Whose blessed feet have trod the ground Where theRedeemer's tomb is found; — For his dear Church's sake, my tale Attend,nordeem of light avail, Though I must speak of worldly love, — how vain to those who wed above!De Wilton and Lord Marmion wooed Clara de Clare, of Gloster's blood; (Idle it were of Whitby's dame, To say of that same blood I came;) And once, when jealous rage was high, Lord Marmion said despiteously, Wilton was traitor in his heart, And had made league with Martin Swart, When he came here on Simnel's part; And only cowardice did restrain hIis rebel aid on Stokefield's plain, And down he threw his glove:-the thlling Was tried, as wont, before the King; Where frankly did De Wilton own, That Swart in Guelders he had known; And that between them then there went Some scroll of courteous compliment. For this he to his castle sent; But when his messenger returned, Judge how De Wilton's fury burned: For in his packet there were laid Letters that claimed disloyal aid, And proved King Henry's cause betrncvd. His fame, thus blighted, in the field He strove to clear, by spear and shield; To. clear his fame in vain he strove, For wondrous are His ways above! Perchance some form was unobserved; Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swcrved Else how could guiltless champion quail, Or how the blessed ordeal -fail? XXIL His squire, who now De Wilton:aw As recreant doomed to suffer law, Repentant, owned in vain, That, while he had the scrolls in care, A stranger maiden, passing fair,

Page  192 192) MARMION. CANTO V I-Had drenched him with a beverage rarer — His words no faith could gain. With Clare alone he credence won, Who, rather than wed Marmion, Did to Saint Hilda's shrine repair, To give our house her livings fair,; And die a -vestal vot'ress there. The impulse from the earth was given, But bent her to the paths of heaven. A purer heart, a lovelier maid, Ne'er sheltered her in Whitby's shade, No, not since Saxon Edelfled; Only one trace of earthly strain, That for her lover's loss She cherishes a sorrow vain, And murmurs at the cross.And then her heritage;-it goes Along the banks of Tame; Deep fields of grain the reaper mows, In meadows rich the heifer lows, The falconer, and huntsman, knows Its woodlands for the game. Shame were it to Saint 1Hilda dear, And I, her humble vot'ress here, Should do a deadly sin, Her temple spoiled before mine eyes, If this false Marmion such a prize By my consent should win: Yet hath our boisterous Monarch sworn, That Clare shall from our house be torn, And grievous cause have I to fear, Such mandate doth Lord Marmnion beat XXIII. "Now, prisoner, helpless, and betrayed To evil power, I claim thine aid, By every step that thou hast trod To holy shrine, and grotto dim; By every martyr's tortured limb; By angel, saint, and seraphim, And by the Chmrch of God! For nark:-When Wilton was betrayed, And with his squire forged letters laid,

Page  193 CANTO Ve. IAMMrOI. 193 She was, alas —that sinful maid, By whom the deed was done; — 01 shame and horror to be said.-I She was a perjured nun; No clerk in all the land, like her, Traced quaint and varying character. Perchance you may a marvel deem, That Marmion's paramour, (For such vile thing she was) should schem Her lover's nuptial hour; But o'er him thus she hoped to gain, As privy to his honour's stain, Illimitable power: For this she secretly retained Each proof that might the plot reveal, Instructions with his hand and seal; And thus Saint Hilda deigned, Through sinner's perfidy impure, Her house's glory to secure, And Clare's immortal weal. XXnr. "'Twere long, and needless, here to tell, How to my hand these papers fell; With me they must not stay. faint Hilda keep her Abbess true! Who knows what outrage he might do, While journeying by the way?O! blessed Saint, if e'er again I venturous leave thy calm domain, To travel'or by land or main, Deep penance may I payl — Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer: I give this packet to thy care, For the to stop they will not dare; And, O! with cautious speed, To Wolsey's hand the papers bring, That he may show them to the King; And for thy well-earned meed, Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine, A weekly mass shall still be thine, While priests can sing and read.18*

Page  194 194: IARUMION. ONTu V What ail'st thou?-Speak!"-For as he cook I'he charge, a strong emotion shook His frame; and, ere reply, They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone, Like distant clarion feebly blown, That on the breeze did die; And loud the Abbess shrieked in fear, "Saint Withold save us!-What is here! Look at yon City Cross! See on its battled tower appear Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear, And blazoned banners toss! " — XXV. Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone, Rose on a turret octagon; (But now is razed that monument, Whence royal edict rang, And voice of Scotland's law was sent, In glorious trumpet clang. O! be his tomb as lead to lead, Upon its dull destroyer's head! — A minstrel's malison is said.-) Then on its battlements they saw A vison, passing nature's law, Strange, wild, and dimly seen;:Figures, that seemed to rise and die, Gibber and sign, advance and fly, While nought confirmed could ear or eye Discern of sound or mien. Yet darkly did it seem, as there Heralds and Pursuivants prepare, With trumpet sound, and blazon fair, A summons to proclaim; But indistinct the pageant proud, As fancy forms of midnight cloud, When flings the moon upon her shroud A wavering tinge of flame; It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud, From midmost of the spectre crowd, This awful summons came:XXVIL "Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer, Whose names I now shall call,

Page  195 Scottish, or foreigner, give ear! j l Subjects of him who sent me here, At his tribunal to appear, i5~~ ~I summon one and all: I cite you by each deadly sin, That e'er hath soiled your hearts within~: I cite you by each brutal lust, That e'er defiled your earthly dust, —By wrath —by pride —by fear;By each o'er-mastering passion's tone, By the dark grave, and dying groan! When forty days are past and gone, I cite you at your Monarch's throne, I To answer and appear." — Then thundered forth a roll of names;The first was thine, unhappy Jamesl Then all thy nobles came; Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle, lHoss, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle,-~Why should I tell their separate style? Each chief of birth and fame, Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle, Fore-doomed to Flodden's carnage pile, Was cited there by name; i |And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye, Of Lutterward and Scrivelbay, De Wilton, erst of Aberley, The self-same thundering voice did say. — But then another spoke; i' Thy fatal summons I deny, And thine infernal lord defy, Appealing me to Him on High, Who burst the sinner's yoke."At that dread accent, with a scream, Parted the pageant like a dream,'.j The summoner was gone. Prone on her face the Abbess fell, And fast, and fast, her beads did tell; Her nuns came, startled by the yell, And found her there alone. She marked not, at the scene aghast, What time, or how, the Palmer passed. XXVII. Shift we the scene.-The camp doth mont D)un-Edin's streets are empty now,

Page  196 1~6 oM ~ ~SIB Save when, for weal of those they love,. To pray the prayer, and vow the vow, The tottering child, the anxious fair, The grey-haired sire, with pious care, To chapels and to shrines repair.Where is the Palmer now? and where The Abbess, Marmion, and Clare? — Bold Douglas!- to Tantallon fair They journey in thy charge: Lord Marmion rode on his right hand,, The Palmer still was with the band; Angus, like Lindesay, did command That none should roam at large. But in that Palmer's altered mien A wondrous change might now be secn:. Freely he spoke of war, Of marvels wrought by single hand, When lifted for a native land; And still looked high, as if he planned Some desperate deed afar. His courser would he feed and strokes And, tucking up his sable frocke, Would first his mettle bold provokes. Then soothe, or quell his pride. Old Hubert said, that never one He saw, except Lord Marmion, A steed so fairly ride. XXVIIL Some half-hour's march behind, there came By Eustace governed fair, A troop escorting Hilda's Dame, With all. ler nuns and Clare. No audience had Lord Marmion sought Ever he feared to aggravate Clara de Clare's suspicious hate; And safer'twas, he thought, To wait till, from the nuns removed, The influence of kinsmen loved, And suit by Henry's self approved, Her slow consent had wrought. His was no flickering flame, that dies Unless when fanned by looks and sighs, And lighted oft at lady.'s eives;

Page  197 ~Ni. ILn9ttMIO. 79 He longed to stretch his wide command'O'er luckless Clara's ample land: Besides, when Wilton with him yied, Although the pang of humbled pride The place of jealousy supplied, Yet conquest, by that meanness won He almost loathed to think upon, Led him at times to hate the cause, Which made him burst through honour's law,. [f e'er he loved,'twas her alone, Who died within that vault of stone. XXIX. And now, when close at hand they saw North-Berwick's town and lofty Law, iFitz-Eustace bade them pause a while Before a venerable pile, Whose turrets viewed, afar, The lofty Bass, the Lambie Isle, The ocean's peace or war. At tolling of a bell, forth came The convent's venerable Dame, And prayed Saint Hilda's Abbess rest With- her, a loved and honoured guest, Till Douglas should a bark prepare, To waft her back to Whitby fair. Glad was the Abess, you may guess, And thanked the Scottish Prioress; And tedious tell, I ween, The courteous speech that passed between, O'erjoyed the nuns their palfreys leave: But when fair Clara did intend, Like them, from horseback to desoerd, Fitz-Eustace said-" I grieve, Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart,.uch gentle company to part — Think not discourtesy, But Lords' commands must be obeyed; And Marmion and the Douglas said, That you must wend with me. Lord Marmion hath a letter broad, Which to the Scottish Earl he showed, (Commanding, that, beneath his care, Without delay, you shall repair, To ylourgod kinsman-Lord Fz-Cla'e." I ~ _______ ~~_ _~_ ___~~~~__~ __~______~ ~ __

Page  198 I1} 98 MDIuIOi!I, ~~>XO v | r The startled Abbess loud exclaimed;. But she, at whom the blow was aimed,. Grew pale as death, and cold as lead — ~ She deemed she heard her death-doom read, "Cheer thee, my child! " the Abbess said, "They dare not tear thee from my hand, To ride along with armed band."- "Nay, holy mother, nay," Fitz-Eustace said, "the lovely Clar, Will be in Lady Angus' care, i In Scotland while we stay; And, when we move, an easy ride Will bring us to the English side,, F'emale attendance. to provide i Befitting Gloster's heir; Nor thinks. nor dreams, my noble lorr, - I By slightest look, or act, or word, i To harass Lady Clare. Her faithful guardian he will be, Nor sue for slightest courtesy That e'en to stranger falls, Till he shall place her, safe and free, Within her kinsman's halls."He spoke, and blushed with earnest gracs-} His faith was painted on his face, And Clare's worst fear relieved. The Lady Abbess loud exclaimed On Henry, and the Douglas blamed,, i Entreated, threatened, grieved:;. To martyr, saint, and prophet prayed,. Against Lord Marmion inveighed, And called the Prioress to aid, To curse with candle, bell, and book,-! Her head the grave Cistercian shook: ~~i " The Douglas and the King," she said, " In their commands will be obeyed; Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fa~el;,i The maiden in Tantllon halL" i GrieTe not, nor dream that harm ea; f'l The Abbess, seeing strife was vain,.Assumed her wonted state agai- ni For much of state she had —

Page  199 CANTO V MARMION, Composed her veil, and raised her head And-' "Bid," in solemn voice she said, "Thy master, bold and bad, The records of his house turn o'er, And, when he shall there written sse, That one of his own ancestry Drove the Monks forth of Coventry, Bid him his fate explore! Prancing in pride of earthly trust, His charger hurled himn to the dust, And,by a base plebeian thrust, He died his band before. God judge'twixt Marmion and me; He is a chief of high degree, And I a poor recluse; Yet oft, in holy writ, we see Even such weak minister as me WMay the oppressor bruise:!For thus, inspired, did Judith slay The mighty in his sin, And Jael thus, and Deborah,"Here hasty Blount broke in:. Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band; St. Anton fire thee! wilt thou stand.All day, with bonnet in thy hand, To hear the Lady preach? By this good light! if thus we stay, Lord Marmion, for our fond delay, Will sharper sermon teach. Come, don thy cap, and mount thy horse The Dame must patience take perforce." "Submit we then to force, said Clare; "But let this barbarous lord despair His purposed aim to win; Let him take living, lhnd, and life;'But to be Marmion's wedded wife In me were deadly sin: And itf it be the king's decree, That I must find no sanctuary, Where even an horniiide might come, And safely rest his head,

Page  200 MARMION. CAN.TO V Though at its open portals stood, Thirsting to pour forth blood for blood, The kinsmen of the dead; Yet one asylum is my own, Against the dreaded hour; A low, a silent, and alone, Where kings have little power. One victim is before me there.Mother, your blessing, and in prayer Remember your unhappy Clare! "Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows Kind blessings many a one; Weeping and wailing loud arose Round patient Clare, the clamorous woes Of every simple nun. HIis eyes the gentle Eustace dried, And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide, Then took the squire her rein, And gently led away her steed, And, by each courteous word and deed, To cheer her strove in vain. XXXIII. But scant three miles the band had rode, When o'er a height they passed, And, sudden, close before them showed His towers, Tantallon vast: Broad, massive, high, and stretching far, And held impregnable in war. On a projecting rock they rose, And round three sides the ocean flows; The fourth did battled walls enclose, And double mound and fosse. By narrow draw-bridge, outworks strong, Through studded gates, an entrance long, To the main court they cross. It was a wide and stately square; Around were lodgings, fit and fair, And towers of various form, Which on the court projected far, And broke its lines quadrangular. Here was square keep, there turret high, Or pinnaclethat sought the sky, Whence oft the Warder could descry The gathering ocean storm,

Page  201 CA.NTO V MAR3ION. 201 HIere did they rest.-The princely care Of Douglas, why should I declare, Or say they met reception fair? Or why the tidings say, Which, varying, to Tantallon came, By hurryingposts, or fleeter fame, With every varying day? And, first, they heard King James had won Ettall, -and Wark, and Ford; and then, That Norham castle strong was ta'en. At that sore marvelled Marmion;-. And Douglas hoped his Monarch's hand Would soon subdue Northumberland; But whispered news there came, That, while his host inactive lay, And melted by degrees away, King James was dallying off the day With Heron's wily dame.Such acts to chronicles I yield; Go seek them there, and see: Mine is a tale of Flodden Field, And not a history.At length they heard the Scottish host On that high ridge had made their post, Which frowns o'er Millfield Plain; And that brave Surrey many a band Had gathered in the southern land, And marched into Northumberland, And camp at Wooler ta'en. Marmion, like charger in the stall, That hears without the trumpet call, Began to chafe, and swear:" A sorry thing to hide my head In castle, like a fearful maid, When such a field is nearl Needs must I see this battle-day: Death to my fame, if such a fray Were fought, and Marmion away! The Douglas, too, I wot not why, Hath'bated of his courtesy: No longer in his halls I'll stay." — Then bade his band, they should array For march agahist the dawning day. 19

Page  202 INTRODUCTION TO CANITO SIXTH. To RICHARD HEBER, ESQ. Mertoun-House, Ckhristas iEsAP on more wood!-the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still Each age has deemed the new-born year The fittest time for festal cheer: Even heathen yet, the savage Dane At Iol more deep the mead did drain; High on the beach his galleys drew, And feasted all his pirate crew; Then in his low and pine-built hall, Where shields and axes decked the wall, They gorged upon the half-dressed steer; Caroused in seas of sable beer; While round, in brutal jest, were thrown The half-gnawed rib, and marrow-bone; Or listened all, in grim delight, While scalds yelled out the joys of fight. Then forth, in frenzy, would they hie, While wildy loose their red locks fly, And dancing round the blazing pile, They make such barbarous mirth the while, As best might to the mind recall The boisterous joys of Odin's hall. And well our Christian sires of old Loved when the year its course had rolled, And brought blithe Christmas back again, With all his hospitable train. Domestic and religious rite Gave honour to the holy night: On Christmas eve the bells were rung; On Christmas eve the mass was sung; That only night, in all the year, Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear, The damsel donned her kirtle sheen; The hall was dressed with holly green;

Page  203 OANTO VI. MAMION. l i Forth to the wood did merry-men go, To gather in the misletoe. Then opened wide the baron's hall To vassal, tenant, serf, and all; Power laid his rod of rule aside, And Ceremony doffed his pride. The heir, with roses in his shoes, That night might village partner choose; The lord, underogating, share The vulgar gameof "post and pair." All hailed, with uncontrolled delight, And general voice, the happy night, That to the cottage, as the crown, Brought tidings of salvation down. The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, Went roaring up the chimney wide; The huge hall-table's oaken face, Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace, Bore then upon its massive board No mark to part the squire and lord. Then was brought in the lusty brawn, By old blue-coated serving-man; Then the grim boar's-head fiowned on high, Crested with bays and rosemary. Well can the green-garbed ranger tell, How, when, and where, the monster fell; What dogs before his death he tore, And all the baiting of the boar. The wassel round in good brown bowls, Garnished with ribbons, blithely trowls. There the huge sirloin reeked; hard by Plumb-porridge stood, and Christmas pie-. Nor failed old Scotland to produce, At such high-tide, her savoury goose. Then came the merry masquers in, And carols roared with blythesome din; If unmelodious was the song, It was a hearty note, and strong. Who lists may in their mumming see Traces of ancient mystery; White shirts supplied the masquerade, And smutted cheeks the visors made; But, 01 what masquers richly dight Can boast of bosoms half so light

Page  204 *04 MARMION. CArTO rT England was merry England, when Old Christmas brought his sports again.'Twas Christmas broached the mightiest ale;'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale; A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year, Still linger in our northern clime Some remnants of the good old time; And still, within our valleyshere, We hold the kindred title dear, Even when perchance its far. fetched claim To Southron ear sounds empty name; For course of blood, our proverbs deem, Is warmer than the mountain-stream. And thus, my Christmas still I hold Where my great-grandsire came of old; With amber beard, and flaxen hair, And reverend apostolic air, The feast and holy-tide to share, And mix sobriety with wine, And honest mirth with thoughts divine: Small thought was his, in after time E'er to be hitched into a rhyme. The simple sire could only boast, T'hat he was loyal to his cost; The banished race of kings revered, And lost his land-but kept his beard. In these dear halls,wherewelcome kind, Is with fair liberty combined; Where cordial friendship gives the hand, And flies constraint the magic wand Of the fair dame that rules the land. Little we heed the tempest drear, While music, mirth, and social cheer, Speed on their wings the passing year. And Mertoun's halls are fair e'en now, When not a leaf is on the bough. Tweed loves them well, and turns again, As loath to leave the sweet domain; And holds his mirror to her face, And clips her with a close embraces — Gladly as he, we seek the dome, And as reluctant turn us home. --------------------— L-~~~~~~~~~~~~~~'

Page  205 CANTO VI. MARRION How just, that, at this time of glee, My thoughts should, Heber, turn to thee: For many a merry hour we've known, And heard the chimes of midnight's tone. Cease, then, my friend! a moment cease) And leave these classic tomes in peace!l Of Roman and of Grecian lore, Sure nlortal brain can hold no moreo. These ancients, as Noll Bluff might say, Were " pretty fellows in. their day," But time and tide o'er all prevailOn Christmas eve a Christmas taleOf wonder and of war-" Profane! What! leave the lofty Latian strain, Her stately prose, her verse's charms, To hear the clash of rusty arms; In Fairy-land or Limbo lost, To jostle conjuror and ghost, Goblin and-witch!" —Nay, Heber, dear, Before you touch my charter, hear, Though Leyden aids, alas! no more, My cause with many-languaged lore, This may I say:-in realms of death Ulysses meets Alcides' wraith; 2Eneas, upon Thracia's shore, The ghost of murdered Polydore; For omens, we in Livy cross, At every turn, locutus Bos. As grave and duly speaks that ox, As if he told the price of stocks; Or held, in Rome republican, The place of Common-councilman. All nations have their omens drear, Their legends wild of woe and fear. To Cambria look-the peasant see,. Bethink him of Glendowerdy, And shun " the spirit's blasted tree," The Highlander, whose red claymore The battle turned on Maida's shore,, Will, on a Friday morn, look pale, If asked to tell a fairy tale: He fears the vengeful Elfin King, Who leaves that day his grassy ring;

Page  206 ~~ l molARXIO.. ANTO Vt. Invisible to human ken, He walks among the sons of men. Didst e'er, dear Heber, pass along Beneath the towers of Franchemont, Which, like an eagle's nest in air, Hang o'er the stream and hamlet fair? — Deep in their vaults, the peasants say, A mighty treasure buried lay, Amassed through rapine, and through wrongl 1By the last lord of Frdnchemont. The iron chest is bolted hard, A Huntsman sits, its constant guard; Around his neck his horn is hung, His hanger in his belt is slung; Before his feet his bloodhounds lie: An'twere not for his gloomy eye, Whose withering glance no heart can brook, As trute a huntsman doth he look, As bugle e'er in brake did sound Or ever hollowed to a hound. To chase the fiend, and win the prize, In that same dungeon ever tries An aged Necromantic Priest; It is an hundred years at least, Since'twixt them first the strife began, And neither yet has lost or won. And oft the conjuror's words will make The stubborn Demon groan and quake; And oft the bands of iron break, Or bursts one lock, that still amain, Fast as'tis opened, shuts again. That magic strife within the tomb May last until the day of doom, Unless the Adept shall learn to tell The very word that clenched the spell, When Franch'mont locked the treasure cell. An hundred years are past and gone, And scarce three letters has he won. Such general superstition may Excuse for old Pitscottie say; Whose gossip history has given My song the messenger from heaven,

Page  207 - ATO VI. MARMION. 20'7 That -warned, in Lithgow, Scotland's King: Nor less the infernal summoning. May pass the monk of Durham's tale, Whose Demon fought in Gothic mail; May pardon plead for Fordun grave, Who told of Gifford's Goblin-Cave. But why such instances to you, Who, in an instant, can review Your treasured hoards of various,lore, And furnish twenty thousand more? Hoards, not like their's whose volumes res Like treasures in the Franch'mont chest; While gripple owners still refuse To others what they cannot use! Give them the priest's whole century, They shall not spell you letters three; Their pleasure in the book's the same The magpie takes in pilfered gem. Thy volumes, open as thy heart; Delight, amusement, science, art, To every ear and eye impart; Yet who, of all who thus employ them, Can, like the owner's self, enjoy them?But, hark! I hear the distant drum: T'he day of Flodden Field is come. Adieu, dear Heber! life and health, And store of literary wealth, CANTO SIXTH. THE BATTLE, WHILE great events were on the gale, And each-hour brought a varying taiWe l'~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~._,~__._~

Page  208 208 ARMNION.'CANTO VL And the demeanour, changed and cold, Of Douglas, fretted Marmion bold, And like the impatient steed of war, He snuffed the battle from afar; And hopes were none, that back again, Herald should come from Terouenne' Where England's King in leaguer lay, Before decisive battle-day; While these things were, the mournful Clare Did in the Dame's devotions share: For the good Countess ceaseless prayed, To Heaven and Saints, her sons to aid, And, with short interval, did pass From prayer to book, from book to mas, And all in high Baronial pride, — A life both dull and dignified; — Yet as Lord Marmion nothing pressed Upon her intervals of rest, Dejected Clara well could bear The formal state, the lengthened prayer, Though dearest to her wounded heart The hours that she might spend apart. IL I said, Tantallon's dizzy steep Hung o'er the margin of the deep, Many a rude tower and rampart there Repelled the insult of the air, Which, when the tempest vexed the sky, Half breeze, half spray, came whistling by. Above the rest, a turret square Did o'er its Gothic entrance bear, Of sculpture rude, a stony shield; The Bloody Heart was in the field, And in the chief three mullets stood, The cognizance of Douglas blood. The turret held a narrow stair, Which, mounted, gave you access where A parapet's embattled row Did seaward round the castle go; Sometimes in dizzy steps descending, Sometimes in narrow circuit bending, Sometimes in platform broad extending, Its varying circle did combine

Page  209 CA.NO L iLRMION. 209 Bulwark, and-bartisan, and line, And bastion, tower, and vantage-coign; Above the booming ocean leant The farprojecting battlement; The billows burst, in ceaseless flow, Upon the precipice below. Where'er Tantallon faced the land, Gate-works, and walls, were strongly maimed; No need upon the sea-girt side; The steepy rock, and frantic tide, Approach of human step denied; And thus these lines, and ramparts rude, Were left in deepest solitude. IIL And, for they were so lonely, Clare Would. to. these battlements repair, And muse upon her sorrows there, And list the sea-bird's cry; Or slow, like noon-tide ghost, would glide Along the dark-gray bulwarks'side, And ever ontthe heaving tide Look down with weary eye. Oft did the eliff,, and swelling' m&i Recall the thoughts of Whitby's fane,A home she might ne'er:see again; For she had laid adown, So Douglas bade, the hood and veil, And frontlet' of the cloister pale, And Benedictine gown: It were unseeimly sight, he said,.'Anovice out of convent shade.-.Now'her bright locks, with sunny glow Again adorned her brow of snow; Her mantle rich, whose borders, round, A deep and -fretted broidery bound, In golden foldings sought the ground; Of holy ornament, alone Remained a cross with ruby stone; And often did she look On that which in her hand she bore With velvet bound, and broidered o'&e Her breviary book.

Page  210 210 It.LMION. CANTO Vi. In such a place, so lone, so grim, At dawning pale, or twilight dim, It fearful would have been, To meet a form so richly dressed, With book in hand, and cross on breast, And such a woeful mien. Fitz-Eustace, loitering with his bow, To practise on the gull and crow, Saw her, at distance, gliding slow, And did by Mary swear, — Some love-lorn Fay she might have been, Or, in romance, some spell-bound queen; For ne'er, in work-day world, was seen A form so witching fair. Iv. i Once walking thus, at evening tide, It chanced a gliding sail she spied, And, sighing, thought-" The Ableas ther,! Perchance, does to her home repairs Her peaceful rule, where Duty, free, Walks hand in hand with Charity; Where oft Devotion's tranced glow Can such a glimpse of heaven bestow, That the enraptured sisters see High vision, and deep mystery; The very form of Hilda fair, Hovering upon the sunny air, And smiling on her votaries' prayer, 0! wherefore to my duller eye, Did still the Saint her form deny! Was it, that, seared by sinful scorn, My heart could neither melt nor burn? Or lie my warm affections low, With him that taught them first to glow?Yet, gentle Abbess, well I knew, To pay thy kindness grateful due, And well could brook the mild command That ruled thy simple maiden band. — How different now! condemned to bidle My doom from this dark tyrant's pride. — But Marmion has to learn, ere long, That constant mind, and hate of wrong,

Page  211 J ~'V" TO.LrtOSto aft Descended to a feeble girl, i From Red De Clare, stout Gloster's Bhar: Of such a stem, a sapling weak,: e -ne'er shall bend, although he break. i "But see!-what makes this armour here?" For in her path there lay Targe, corslet, helm;-she viewed them near.-s' The breast-plate pierced, —Aye?, mucl Ir i f Weak fence.wert thou'gainst foeman's speaufr That hath made fatal entrance here, As these dark blood-gouts say. — Thus Wilton -Oh! not corslet's ward, Not truth, as diamond pure and'hard, Could be thy manly bosom's guard,' On yon disastrous dayl" — She raised her eyes in mournful mood,Wilton himself before her stood! It might have seemed his passing gho,, 1 For every youthful grace was lost; And joy unwonted, and surprise, Gave their strange wildness to his eye.- - Expect not, noble dames and lords, That I can tell such scene in words: What skilful limner e'er would choose To paint the rainbow's varying hues, Unless to mortal it were given To dip his brush in dyes of heaven'? Far less can my weak line declare Each changing passion's shade; l J Brightening to rapture from despair Sorrow, surprise, and pity there, And joy, with her angelic air, And hope, that paints the future fai Their varying hues displayed:! Each o'er its rival's ground extending,' Alternate conquering, shifting, blending, Till all, fatigued, the conflict yield, *And mighty Love retains the field., Shortly I tell what then he said, 1By many a tender word delayed, 1 And modest blush, and bursting sigh, And question kind, and fond reply.

Page  212 YL IDE WILTON'S Hl!STOY. "Forget we that disastrous day, When senseless in the lists I lay. Thence dragged,-but how I cannot know, For sense and recollection fled,I found me on a pallet low, Within my ancient beadsman's shed. Austin,-remember'st thou, my Clare, How thou didst blush, when the old matd1 When first our infant love began, Said we would make a matchless pair? — Menials, and friends, and kinsmen fled From the degraded traitor's bed,He only held my burning head, And tended me for many a day, While wounds and fever held their sway', But far more needful was his care, When sense returned to wake despair, For I did tear the closing wound, And dash me frantic on the ground, If e'er I heard the name of Clare. At length, to calmer reason brought, Much by his kind attendance wrought, With him 1 left my native strand; And, in a palmer's weeds arrayed, My hated name and form to shade, I journeyed many a land; No more a lord of rank and birth, But mingled with the dregs of earth. Oft Austin for my reason feared, When I would sit, and deeply brood On dark revenge and deeds of blood, Or iwild mad schemes upreared. Mly friend at length fell sick, and said, God would remove him soon; And while upon his dying bed, He begged of me a boon — Ife'ermy deadliest enemy Beneath my brand should conquered Hle, Even then my mercy should awake, And spare his life for Austin's saks

Page  213 CiiANTEO VI, KARMION,.l VIL "Still a second Cain, To Scotland next my route was ta'ea. Full well the paths I knew; Fame of my fate made various sound That death in pilgrimage I found, That I had. perished of my wound,None cared which tale was true: And living eye could never guess De Wilton in his Palmer's dress; For now.that sable slough is shed, And trimmed my shaggy beard and'eall,, I scarcelyknowme in a giass. A chance most wond'rous did provide, That I should be that Baron's guideI will his name - Vengeance to God alone belongs; But, when I think on all my wrongAs, My blood is liquid flame! And ne'er the time shall I forget, When, in a Scottish hostel set, Dark looks we did exchange: What were his thoughts I cannot tel, But in my bosom mustered Hell Its lans' of dark revenge. vIIL.:'.I~ J, B~~~A word of vulgaraugury, A ~ j~rThat broke from me,.I scarce knew why, Brought on a village tale; Which wrought upon his moody sprite And sent him armed forth by night. I borrowed steed and mail, And weapons, from his sleeping band; And, passing from a postern door, We met, and'countered, hand to haud, — He fell on Gifford-moor,. For the death-stroke my brand I drew, (0 then my helmed head he knew, The Palmer's cowl was gone,) Then had three inches of my blade The heavy debt of venlgeance paiL — 20 II

Page  214 MARMI0r. (A. c My hand the thought of Austia. ad;. I left him there alone.O good old manl even from the graved Thy spirit could thy master saveo If I had slain, my foeman, ne'er Had Whitby's Abbess, in her fear, Given to my hand this packet dear;, Of power to clear my injured fame, And vindicate De Wilton's name. —Perchance you heard the Abbess tell Of the strange pageantry of Hell, That broke our secret speech-. It rose from the infernal shade, Or featly was some jaggle played, A tale of peace to teach. Appeal to Heaven I judged was best When my name came among the IX H"Now here, within Tantallon Hold, To Douglas late my tale 1 told, To whom my house was known of old. Won by my proofs, his falchion bright This eve anew shall dub me knight. These were the arms that once did turb The tide- of fight on Otterburne, And Harry Hotspur forced to yield, When the Dead Douglas won the field. These Angus gavel-his armourer's care, Ere morn, shall every breach/repair; For nought, he said, Was in Mb hals, But ancient armour on the walls, And aged chargers in the stalli, And women, priests, and grthy-hairecd me The rest were all in Twisell-glen. And now I watch my armour hem, By law of arms, till midnight's near; Then, once again a belted knight, Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of ligh& X. There soon again we meet, my Claret This. Baron mBeans to, guide, tlee. there.

Page  215 ,~i. NIARIONe. 215 i)ouglas reveres his king's command, EJlse would he take thee from his band. And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too, Will give De Wilton justice due. Now nceter far for martial broil, Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil, Once more".-" 0, Wilton! must we then Risk new-found happiness again, Trust fate of arms once more? And is there not a humble glen, Where we, content and poor, iMight build a cottage in the shade, A shepherd thou, and I to aid Thy task on dale and moor?That reddening brow!-too well I know Not even thy Clare can peace bestow, While falsehood stains thy name: Go then to fight! Clare bidsthee gol Clare can a warrior's feelings know, And weep a warrior's shame; Can Red Earl Gilbert's spirit feel, Buckle the spurs upon thy heel, And belt thee with thy brand of steel, And send thee forth to;fame!"XL That night, upon the rocks and bay, The midnight moon-beam slumbering lay, And poured its silver light, and pure, Through loop-hole, and through embrazure, Upon Tantallon tower and hall; Bat chief where arched windows wide Illuminate the chapel's pride, The sober glances fall. Much was there need; though, seamed with scar, Two veterans of the Douglas' wars, Though two gray priests were there, And each a blazing torch held high, You could not by their blaze descry The chapel's carving fair. Amid that dim and smoky light, Chequering the silvery moon-shine bright, A bishop by the altar stood, A noble lord of Douglas blood,'A ith mitre sheen, and rocquet white;

Page  216 210 XARMTON, CANTO VL. Yet showed his meek and thoughtful eye But little pride of prelacy: More pleased that, in a barbarous age, He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page, Than that beneath his rule he held The bishopric of fair Dunkeld. Beside him ancient Angus stood, Doffed his furred gown, and sable hood: O'er his huge form, and visage pale, He wore a cap and shirt of mail; And lean'd his large and wrinkled hand Upon the huge and sweeping brand, Which wont, of yore, in battle-fray, His foeman's limbs to shred away, As wood-knife lops the sapling spray. He seemed as, from the tombs around Rising at judgment-day, Some giant Douglas may be found In all his old array; So pale his face, so huge his limb, So old his arms, his look so grim. XIL Then at the altar Wilton kneels, And Clare the spurs bound on his heels; And think what next he must have felt, At buckling of the falchion belt! And judge how Clara changed her hue, While fastening to her lover's side A friend, which, though in danger tried, He once had found untrue! Then Douglas struck him with his blade: " Saint Michael and Saint Andrew aid, I dub thee knight. Arise Sir Ralph, De Wilton's heir! For king, for church, for lady fair, See that thou fight." — And Bishop Gawain, as he rose, Said,-" Wiltonl grieve not for thy woea, Disgrace, and trouble, For He, who honour best bestows, May give thee double." — De Wilton sobbed, for sob he must" Where'er I meet a Douglas, trust That Douglas is my brother " —

Page  217 CANTO V/. MARMION. "Nay, nay;" old Angus said, "not so: To Surrey's camp thou now must go, Thy wrongs no longer smother. I have two sons in vonder field; And, if thou meet'st them under shield, Upon them bravely-do thy worst; And foul fall him that blenches firstl" XHII. Not far advanced was morning day, When Marmion did his troop array To Surrey's camp to ride; He had safe,.conduct for his band, Beneath the royal seal and hand, And Douglas gave a guide: The ancient Earl, with stately grace, Would Clara on her palfrey place, And whispered, in an under tone, "Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown.' The train from out the castle drew; But Marmion stopp'd to bid adieu:" Though something I might plain," he saidO "Of cold respect to stranger guest, Sent hither by your king's behest, While in Tantallon's towers I staid; Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble Earl, receive my hand."But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms, and thus he spoke:"' My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still Be open to my sovereign's will, To each one whom he lists, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer, My castles are my king's alone, From turret to foundation-stone — The hand of Douglas is his own; And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as Mlarmioa clasp. XIV. ]Burned Marmion's swarthy Cheek like ir, And shook his very frame for ire, And-" This to me!" he said,20* I___________ __.~ _____________.. _________________._ ~________ _

Page  218 218 NABMION. wa VJ. "An'twere not for thy hoary beard, Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas' head! And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer, lie, who does England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mater And, Douglas. more I tell thee here, Even in thy pitch of pride, Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, (Nay, never look upon your lord, And lay your hands upon your sword,) I tell thee, thou'rt defiedl And if thou said'st, I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied!" — On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage O'ercame the ashen hue of age: Fierce he broke forth; —"And dar'st tbau then To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall? And hop'st thou hence unscathed to goy?No, by Saint Bryde of Bothwell, no!Up drawbridge, grooms-what, Warder, hot Let the portcullis fall."Lord Marmion turned,-well was his need, And dashed the rowels in his steed, Like arrow through the arch-way sprung, The ponderous grate behind him rung: To pass there was such scanty room, The bars, descending, razed his plume. xv. The steed along the drawbridge fies, Just as it trembled on the rise; Not lighter does the swallow skim Along the smooth lake's level brim: And when Lord Marmion reached his band, He halts, and turns with clenched hand, And shout of loud defiance pours, And shook his gauntlet at the towers. "Horse! horse!" the Douglas cried, "and chase!" But soon he reined his fury's pace:

Page  219 "A royal messenger he came, Though most unworthy of the name.-. A letter forged! Saint Jude to speedl Did ever knight so foul a deed! At first in heart it liked me ill, When-the King praised his clerkly skitl Thanks to Saint Bothan,. son of mine, Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line; So swore 1, and I swear it still, Let my boy-bishop fret his fill.Saint Mary mend my fiery mood! Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood,, I thought to slay him where he stood. —'Tis pity of him, too," he cried; "Bold can he speak, and fairly rideI warrant him a warrior tried."With this his mandate he recalls, And slowly seeks his castle hall1 XVIL The day in Marmion's. journey wore t Yet, e'er his passion's gust was o'er, They crossed the heights of Stanrigg-moof His troop moire closely there he scann'd, And missed the Palmer from the band. — "Palmer or not," young Blount did say, "He parted at the peep of day; Good sooth it was in strange array." " In what array? " said Marmion, quick. "My lord, I ill can spell the trick; Bat all night long, with elink and bang, Close to my couch did hammers clango At dawn the falling drawbridge rang, And from a loop-hole while 1 peep, Old Bell-the-Cat came from the Keep, Wrapped in a gown of sables fair, As fearful of the morning air; Beneath, when that was blown aside, A rusty shirt of mail I spied, By Archibald won in bloody work, Against the Saracen and Turk: Last night it hung not in the hall; I thought some maxvel would befall.

Page  220 R90o a3kaar[OA l CANuTO VI, And next I saw them saddled lead Old Cheviot forth, the Earl's best steed; A matchless horse, though something old, Prompt to his paces, cool and bold. I heard the Sheriff Sholto say, The Earl did much the Master pray T'o use him on the battle-day; But he preferred"-" Nay, Henry, cease! Thou sworn horse-courser, hold thy peace — Eustace, thou bear'st a brain-I pray, What did BRount see at break of daay?' XVIL In brief, my lord, we both descried (For I then stood by Henry's side) The Palmer mount, and outwards ride, Upon the Earl's own favourite steed; A11 sheathed he was in armour bright, And much resembled that same knight Subdued by you in Cotswold fight; Lord Angus wished him speed." — The instant that FEitz-Eustace spoke, A sudden light on Marmion broke:" Ah I dastard fool, to reason lostI" He muttered; "'Twasnot fay norghost I met upon the moonlight wold, B3ut living man of earthly mould. — 0 dotage blind and gross! Had I but fought as wont, one thrust ]Had laid De Wilton in the dust, My path no more to cross.]How stand we now?-he toid his tale To Douglas; and withsome avail;'Twas therefore gloomed his rugged lrow — Will Surrey dare to entertain,'Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain? Small risk of that I trow.Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shu.?; Must separate Constance from the Null — O what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive — A Palmer toot!-no wonder why I felt rebuked beneath his eye: I might hake known there was but one, Whose look coald quell Lord Marmiai,.'

Page  221 0AT IV MA MTOV. 22 XVIIL Stung with these thoughts, he urged tospeed His troop, and reached, at eve, the Tweed, Where Lennel's convent closed their march} (There now is left but one frail arch, Yet mourn thou not its cells; i i Our time a fair exchange has made; Hard by, in hospitable shade, A reverend pilgrim dwells, Well worth the whole Bernardine brood, That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood.) Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot there Give Marmion entertainment fair, And lodging for his train, and Clare. Next morn the Baronclimbed the tower, To view afar the Scottish power, Encamped on Flodden edge: The white pavilions made a show, Like remnants of the winter snow, Along the dusky ridge. Long Marmion looked:-at length his eye lUnusual movement might descry, Amid the shifting lines: The Scottish host drawn out appears, For, flashing on the hedge of spears The eastern sun-beam shines. Their front now deepening, now extending; Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending, Now drawing back, and now descending, The skilful Marmion well could know, They watched the motions of some foe, Who traversed on the plain below. XIX. Even so it was:-from Flodden ridge The Scots beheld the English host Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post And heedful watched them as they crossed The Till by Twisel bridge. High sight it is, and haughty, while They dive into the deep defile; Beneath the caverned cliff they fall, Beneath the castle's airy wall. I c

Page  222 By rock, by oak, by hawthorn tree, Troop after troop are disappearing; Troop after troop their banners rearing Upon the eastern bank you see. Still pouring down the rocky den, i'Where flowos the sullen Til, And rising from the dim-wood glen, Standards on standards, men on men, In slow succession still, And sweeping o'er the Gothic arch, And pressing on, in ceaseless march, To gain the opposing hill. That morn, to many a trumpet-clang) Twisell thy rocks deep echo rang; And many a chief of birth and rank, Saint Helen! at thy fountain drank. Thy hawthorn glade, which now we see i In spring-tide bloom so lavishly, Had then from many an axe its door To give the marching columns room. XX, And why stands Scotland idly now, Dark Flodden on thy airy brow, Since England gains the pass the whil | And struggles through the deep defile? What checks the fiery soul of James? Why sits that champion of the Damnes Inactive on his steed, And sees, between him and his land, Between him and Tweed's southern strand4 His host Lord Surrey lead? What vails the vain knight-errants's brarldt- - 0, Douglas, for thy leading wand! Fierce Randolph, for thy speed! O for one hour of Wallace wight, Or well skilled Bruce, to rule the figh-t, And cry —" Saint Andrew and our riglit!" Another sight bad seen that morn, From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn, And Flodden had been Bannock-bourne!bThe precious hour has passed in vain, And England's host has gained the plains Wheeling their march, and circling stil4 Around tke base of Floddea-hik....

Page  223 CANTO T 3mARMION, 2a XXI Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye, Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high," Hark! hark! my lord, an English drum! And see ascending squadrons come Between Tweed's river and the hill, Foot, horse, and cannon: —hap what hap, My basnettoaprentice cap, Lord Surrey's o'er the Till! — Yet more! yet morel —how fair arrayed They file from out the hawthorn shad% And sweep so gallant by! With all their banners bravely spread, And all their armour flashing high, Saint George might waken from the dead, To see fair England's standards fly.""Stint in thy prate," quoth Blount; "thou'dst besr And listen to our lord's behest."With kindling brow Lord kMarmion said, — "This instant be our band arrayed; The river must be quickly crossed, That we may join Lord Surrey's host. If fight King James, —as well I trust, That fight he will, and fight he must,The Lady Clare behind our lines hall tarry, while the battle join."xx. Ihioelf he swift on horseback throw, Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu: IFar less would listen to his prayer, To leave behind the helpless Clare. Down to the Tweed his band he drexv And muttered, as the flood they view, "The pheasant in the falcon's claw, IHe scarce will yield to please a daw; ILord Angus may the Abbot awe, So Clare shall bide with me." Then on that dangerous ford, acd deep Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies crcis, IHe ventured desperately; And not a moment will he bide, Till squire, or groom, before him -rides

Page  224 Headmost of all lie stems the tide, And stems it gallantly. Eustace held Clare upon her horse, Old Hubert led her rein, Stoutly they braved the current's course, And, though far downward driven per force The southern bank they gain; Behind them, straggling, came to shore, As best they might, the train: Each o'er his head his yew-bow bore, A caution not in vain; Deep need that day that every string, By wet unharmed, should sharply ring. A moment then Lord Marmion staid, And breathed his steed, his men arrayed, Then forward moved his band, Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won, Hie halted by a cross of stone, That, on a hillock standing lone, Did all the field command. XXIIL HIence might they see the full array Of either host, or deadly fray; Their marshalled lines stretched east and wevst And fronted north and south, And distant salutation past From the loud cannon mouth; Not in the close successive rattle, That breathes thevoice of modern battle, But slow and far between.The hillock gained, Lord Marmion staid: "Here, by this cross," he gently said, "You well may view the scene. -Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare: 0! think of Marmion in thy prayer!Thou wilt not? —well, —no less my care Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare.You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard, With ten picked archers of my train; With England if the day go hard, To Berwick speed amnain.But, if we conquer, cruel maid! bly spoils.shall at your feet be laid, When here we meet again."

Page  225 CAITO V KARMION. i: lIe waited not for answer. there, And would not mark the-maid's despair, Nor heed the discontented look From either squire; but spur-ed. amin, a nd, dashing through the batl.e-pai, His way to Surrey took, -- The good Lord Mar-mio by. my liirt Welcome to danger's hour. Short greeting serves, in timeoof strifoe:-. Thus have I ranged amy power: Myself will rule this.central hosti Stout Stanleyfronts their right, My sons command the vaward post, With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight; Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light, Shall be in rear-ward of the. fight And succour those that need it must. Now, gallant Marmion, well I kno', Would gladly to the vanguard go: Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstall there, With thee their charge will blithely shamt; There fight thine own retainers too, Beneath De Burg, thy steward true."-. I Thanks noble Surreyl" Marmion said, Nor farther greeting there.he paid; But, parting like a thunderbolt, IFirst in the vanguard made. a halt, Where such a shout there. rose Of "M armion! Marmion " that the cry Up Flodden mountain shrilling high, Startled the Scottish foes. Blount and Fita-Eustace rested still With Lady Clare upon the hill; On which, (for far the. day was spent,) The western sunbeams now were. bent. The cry they heard, its meaning knew, Could plain their distant comrades views. Sadly to Blount did Eustace say, "Unworthy office here to stay! No hope of gilded spurs ------ --------------— 21

Page  226 226 wRXoItON. CANTO VL But, see! look up-on Flodden bent, The Scottish foe has fired his tent."-. And sudden, as he spoke, From the sharp ridges of the hill, All downward to the banks of Till, Was wreathed in sable smoke; Volumed and vast, and rolling far, The cloud enveloped Scotland's war, As down the hill they broke; Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone, Announced their march; their tread alone, At times one warning trumpet blown, At times a stifled hum, Told England, from his mountain-throne King James did rushing come.Scarce could they hear, or see their foes, Until at weapon-point they close.They close, in clouds of smoke and dust, With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust; And such a yell was there, Of sudden and portentous birth, As if men fought upon the earth, And fiends in upper air. Long looked the anxious squires; their eye Could in the darkness nought desory. XXVL At length the freshening-western blast Aside the shroud of battle cast; And,'first, the ridge of mingled spears Above the brightening cloud appears; And in the smoke the pennons flew, As in the storm the white sea-mew. Then marked they, dashing broad and for, The broken billows of the war, And plumed crests of chieftains brave, Floating like foam. upon the wave; But nought distinct they see: Wide raged the battle on the plain; Spears shook, and falchions flashed; Fell England's arrow-flight like rain; Crests rose, and stooped, aud rose again, Wild and disorderly.

Page  227 Amid the scene of tumult, high They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly: And stainless Tanstall's banner white, And Edmund Howard's lion bright, Still bear them bravely in the fight; Although against them come, Of gallant Gordons many a one, And many a stubborn Highlandman, And many a rugged Border clan, With Huntley, and with Home. XXVILFar on the left, unseen the while, Stanley broke Lennox and ArgyleThough there the western mountaineer Rushed with bare bosom on the spear, And flung the feeble targe aside, And with both hands the broad- sword plied:'Twas vain.-But Fortune, on the right, With fickle smile, cheered Scotland's fight. Then fell that spotless banner white, The Howard's lion fell; Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew With wavering flight, while fiercer grew Around the battle yell. The Border slogan rent the skyl A Homel a Gordon! was the cry; Loud were the clanging blows; Advanced,-forced back,-now low, now high, The pennon sunk and rose; As bends the bark's mast in the gale, When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail, It wavered amid the foes. No longer Blount the view could bear:"By heaven, and all the saints! I swear, I will not see it lost! Fitz Eustace, you with Lady Clare May bid your beads, and patter prayer, —? I gallop to the host." And to the fray he rode amain, Followed by all the archer train. The fiery youth, with desperate charge, Made, for a space, an opening large,The rescued banner rose,

Page  228 228 XARMI0o 1m% Vr, But darkly closed the war around, Like pine-tree, rooted from the ground) It sunk among the foes. Then Eustace mounted too;-yet staid& As loth to leave the helpless maid, When, fast as shaft ean fly, Bloodshot his eyes, his nostrils spread, The loose rein dangling from his. head, Housing and saddle bloody red, Lord Marmion's steed rushed by; And Eustace, maddening at the sight, A look and sign to Clara cast, To mark he would return in haste Then plunged into the fight. XXVIIL Ask me not what the maiden feels~ Left in that dreadful hour alone: Perchance her reason stoops, or reel. Perchance a courage, not her own, Braces her mind to desperate tone. — The scattered van of England wheelsi She only said, as loud in air The tumult roared, "Is Wilton there?" — They fly, or, maddened by despair, Fight but to die.-" Is Wilton there!" With that, straight up: the hill there rode Two horsemen drenched withgore, And in their arms, a helpless, load, A wounded knight they bore. His hand still strained the broken brand;. Htis arms were smeared with blood and sand: Dragged from among the horses' Lfet, With dinted shield, aud helmet beat, The falcon-crest and plumage gone, Can that be haughty Marmion!...... Young Blount his armour did unlace, And, gazing on his ghastly face, Said,-" By Saint George, he's gone-! That spear-wound has our master sped, And see the deep cut on his headl Good night to. Marmion." I Unnurtured Blount — thy brawling ceases He opes his eyes"f said Bustac;'e-"Cel"

Page  229 ;rtro VW, maXXIo. XX.IX. When, doffed his casque,:he felt f'ee air, Around'gan -Marriion wildly stare: — "Where's Harry Blount'? Fitz-Eiistae'where? Linger ye here, ye hearts'of harle!'Redeem my -pennon;-charge again'! Cry-' Marmion to ithe rescue!' —Vain! Last of my'race,' o battle plai'n That shout shall ne'er be heard again!Yet my'last thought is England's: —ly, To Dacre bear my signet-ring; Tell bim his Squadrons up to brinig.-. itz-Eistace, to Lord'Surrey hie: Tunstall lies dead upon the field; fHis life-blood stainis`the'spotless shield: Edmund is down;- my life is reft;. The Admiral alone is left. Let Stanley charge with spur of fire,With Chester charge, and Lancashire, Full upon -Scotlavid's central h'st, Or victory and En;lannd's lost.-I Must I bid twicc?-.hcnce, varlets! fl,? Leave Marmion here alone-to die." —They parted, and alone he lay; Clare drew her from the'sight away, Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan, And half he murmured, —." Is there noan, Of all my halls have nurst,:Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring i Of blessed water from the spring, To slake my -dying thirst." 0, woman! in our hours of eae, Uncertain, coy,'and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made~; When pain and anguish Wring' thei briw A ministering angel thou..Scarce were the piteous accents said, When, Wiithl the Baron's'casque, -the moi4 To the nigh streamlet'ran:

Page  230 230 NARMIOC. CANT VL Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears; The plaintive voice alone she hears, Sees but the dying man. She stooped her by the runnel's side, But in abhorrence backward drew, For, oozing from the mountain wide, Where raged the war, a dark red tide Was curdling in the streamlet blue. Where shall she turnl-behold her mark A little fountain-cell, Where water, clear as diamond-spark, In a stone basin fell. Above, some half'-worn letters say, "Drink weary pilgrim. drink, andpra3 For the kind soul oJ Sybil Grey, Who built this cross and well." She filled the helm, and back she hied, And with surprise and joy espied A Monk supporting Marmion's head; A pious man, whom duty brought To dubious verge of battle fought, To shrieve the dying, bless the dead. XXXL Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave, And as she stooped his brow to lave — " Is it the hand of Clare," he said, "Or injured Constance bathes my headl? Then, as remembrance rose,"Speak not to nie of shrift or prayers I must redress her woes. Short space, few words, are mine to spare; Forgive and listen, gentle Clarel" " Alas" she said, "the while,0 think of your immortal weal! In vain for Constance is your zeal; She —died at Holy Isle." Lord Marmion started from the ground; As light as if he felt no wound; Though in the action burst the tide, In torrents from his wounded side. "Then it was truth!" —-he said-"- I knew That the dark presage must, be true. —

Page  231 ca'TO VL I NroN. 231 I would the Fiend, to whom belongs The vengeance due to all her wrongs, Would spare me but a day! For wasting fire and dying groan, And priests slain on the altar stone, Might bribe him for delay. It may not bel-this dizzy trance — Curse on yon base marauder's lance, And doubly cursed my failing brand! A sinful heart makes feeble hand." Then, fainting, down on earth he sunk, Supported by the trembling Monk. XXXIL With fruitless labour, Clara bound And strove to staunch the gushing wound; The Monk, with unavailing cares, Exhaused all the Church's prayers; E ver, he said, that, close and near, A lady's voice was in his ear; And that the priest he could not hear, For that she ever sung, "In the lost battle, borne down by theflying, Where mingles war's rattle with groans of tho dying!" So the notes rung; "Avoid thee, Fiendl —with cruel hand, Shake not the dying sinner's sand.O look, my son, upon yon sign Of the Redeemer's grace divine; 0 think on faith and bliss! By many a death-bed I have been, And many a sinner's parting seen, But never aught like this."The war, that for a space did fail, Now trebly thundering swelled the gale, And-Stanleyl was the cry:. A light on Marnmion's visage spread, And fired his glazing eye: With dying hand, above his head He shook the fragment of his blade, And shouted " VictorylCharge, Chester, chargel On, Stanley, on i'" Were the last words of Marmion.

Page  232 232 ARMION. CAITO VL XXXIIL By this, though deep the evening fell, Still rose the battle's deadly swell; For still the Scots, around their king, Unbroken, fought in'desperate ring. Where's now their victor vaward wing, Where Huntley, and where Home? O for a blast of that dread horn, On Fontarabian echoes borne, That to King Charles did come, When Rowland brave, and Oliver, And every paladin and peer, On Roncesvalles died. Such blast might warn them, not in vain, To quit the plunder of the slain, And turn the doubtful day again, While yet on Flodden side, Afar, the Royal Standard flies, And round it toils and bleeds and dies, Our Caledonian pride I In vain the wish-for far away, While spoil and havoc mark their way, Near Sybil's Cross the plunderers stray. — 6 O Lady," cried the Monk, " away i"And placed her on her steed; And led her to the chapel fair, Of Tilmouth upon Tweed. There all -the night they spent in prayer, And, at the dawn of morning, there She met her kinsman, Lord Fitz.Clare. xXxn. But as they left the dak'ning'heath, More desperate grew the strifi of death. The English sh atts in volleyshailed, In headlong charge their horse assailed: Front, flank, and rear,'the squadrons s'weep. To break the Seottish'circle deep, That fought around their king. But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, Tl'hough charging kdnigits like whirlwinds go, Unbroken wasi the ring;

Page  233 WITO VW IuMION. 233 The stubborn spearman still made good'The dark impenetrable wood, Each stepping where his comrade stood, The instant that he fell. No thought was there of dastard flight; Linked in the serried phalanx tight, Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, As fearlessly and well: Till utter darkness closed her wing O'er their thin host and wounded king. Then skilful Surrey's sage commands Led back from strife his shattered bandst And from the charge they drew, As mountain-waves, from wasted lands, Sweep back to ocean blue. Then did their loss his foemen know; Their king, their lords, their mightiest low, They melted from the field as snow, When streams are swoln and south winds blow, Dissolves in silent dew. Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash, While many a broken band, Disordered, through her currents dash, To gain the Scottish land; To town and tower, to down and dale, To tell red Flodden's dismal tale, And raise the universal wail. Tradition, legend, tune, and song, Shall manyanage that wail prolong: Still from the sire the son shall hear Of the stern strife, and carnage drear, Of Flodden's fatal field, Where shivered was fair Scotland's spear, And broken was her shield!. XXXV. Day dawns upon the mounrtain's side:There, Scotland! lay thy bravest'pride, Chiefs, knights, and nobles, many ona one; The sad survivors all are gone.-: View not that corpse mistruAtfally, Defaced and mangled though it be; Nor to yon Border castle high Look northward with upbraiding eye; Nor cherish hope in vain,

Page  234 294 MARMION. OANTO VL Tlhat, journeying far on foreign stranrd, The Royal Pilgrim to his land May yet return again. Tice saw the wreck his rashness wrought;.Reckless of life, he desperate fought, And fell on Flodden plain: And well in death his trusty brand, Firm clenched within his manly hand, Beseemed the monarch slain. But, O! how changed since yon blythe nighttGladly I turn me from the sight. Unto my tale again. XXXVI. Short is my tale:-Fitz-Eustace care A pierced and mangled body bare To moated Lichfield's lofty pile; And there, beneath the southern aisle, A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair, Did long Lord Marmion's image bear. (Now vainly for its site you look;'Twas levelled, when fanatic Brook The fair cathedral stormed and took; But, thanks to heaven and good Saint Chad, A guerdon meet the spoiler had!) There erst was martial Marmion found, His feet upon a couchant hotnd, His hands to heaven upraised; And all around, on scutcheon rich, And tablet carved, and fretted niche, His arms and feats were blazed. And yet, though all was carved so fair, And priests for Marmion breathed the prayet The last Lord Marmion lay not there. From Ettrick woods, a peasant swain Followed his Lord to Flodden plain,One of those flowers, whom plaintive lay In Scotland mourns as "wede away:" Sore wounded, Sybil's Cross he spied, And dragged him to its foot, and died, Close by the noble Marmion's side. The spoilers stripped and gashed the slain,.And thus their corpses were mista'en; And thus, in the proud Baron's tomb, The lowly woodsman took the room. ______________________________ ~-*- -_.-_*

Page  235 1 CAX'C ~1, MARMION. XXXVIL Less easy task it were, to show Lord Marmion's nameless grave, and lo.a They dug his grave e'en where he lay, But every mark is gone; Time's wasting hand has done away The simple Cross of Sybil Grey, And broke her font of stone: But yet from out the little hill Oozes the slender springlet still Oft halts the stranger there, For thence may best his curious eye The memorable field descry; - I And shepherd boys repair To seek the water-flag and rush, And rest them by the hazel bush, And plait their garlands fair; Nor dream they sit upon the grave, That holds the bones of Marmion brave. When thou shalt find the little hill, F i With thy heart commune, and be still. If ever, in temptation strong, Thou lefc'st the right path for the wrong; If every devious step, thus trode, Still led thee farther from the road; Dread thou to speak presumptuous doom, On noble Marmion's lowly tomb; But say, 1" He died a gallant knight, With sword in hand, for England's right"'XXXVIIL I do not rhyme to that dull elf, Who cannot image to himself, That all through Flodden's dismal night, F F Wilton was foremostin the fight; That, when brave Surrey's steed was slai,'Twas Wilton mounted him again; was Wilton's brand that deepest hewed, Amid the spearmen's stubborn woods Unnamed by Hollinshed or Hall, He was the living soul of all; That, after fight, his faith made plain. He won his rank and lands again;

Page  236 236 X.AUxIOl. CANOTO VL And charged hisold paternal shield With bearings won on Flodden field. — Nor sing I to that simple maid, To whouia it "must in terms be said, That king and kinsmen did agree To bless fair Clara's constancy; Who cannot, unless I relate, Paint to her mind the bridal's state. That Wolsey's voice the blessing spoke; More, Sands, and Denny, passed the joke: That bluff Kini Hal the curtain drew. And Catherine s hand the stocking throw; And afterwards, for many a day, That it was held enough to say, In blessing to a wedded pair,'Love they like Wilton and like Clare!I L'E'NVOY. TO THE READIE. Why then a final note prolong, Or~lengthen out-a closing song, Unless to bid the gentles speed, Who long hive listed to my rede?To Statesmen grave, if such may deign To readi tfhe Minstrel's idle strain, Sound head, clean hand, and piercinig wit, And pafriotic heart-as PiTTI A garland for the hero's crest, And twincd by her he loves the best; To every lovely lady bright, What can I wish but faithful knight? To every faithful lover too, What can I ir ishl lut lady true? And knowledge to the studious VAd And pillor* soft to:head of'age. To thee, d er school-boy, whom my lay Has cheateil of thy ~hour of play, Light task, and mierry holiday. To all, to each, a fair good night, And pleasing dreams, and sluinbers'ligh.

Page  237 I ~ ~ LADY OF THE LAK.E. I~~~~~~ fl otm. IN SIX OANTO&'i t!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I! i' I Lo-~~~~~~~......._-a....^xcra


Page  239 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. ARGUMENT. 2 he Seene of the following Poem is chiefly in the vicinit4 of Loch-Katrine, in the West Highlands of Perthshire Tie time of action includes si2 days, and the transac. tient of each day occupy a Canto. CANTO FIRST. THE CHASE. HlRP of the north? that mouldering long hst hung On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring, And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, Till envious ivy did aroundtheecling, Muffling with verdant ringlet every stringOh minstrel Harpl 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 maid to weep Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowds, When lay of hopeless love, or glory won, Aroused the fearful or subdued the proud. At each according pause, was' heard 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 match. less eye.

Page  240 240 THE LADY OF THE LAME. CANTO 1L Oh wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray; Oh wake once morel tho' scarce my skill command Some feeble echoing-of thine; earlier lays: Though harsh and faint, and 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 morel Enchantress, wake agnin! L TrE stag at eve had drunkhis fill Where danced the moon on Monan's ril I And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade; But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, It i ~~The deep-mouthed blood-hound's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way, And faint, from farther distance borne, Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. IL As chief who hears his warder call, "To armsl the foemen storm the wall!' The antler'd monarch of the waste Sprang 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, Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky; A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment snuffed the tainted gale, A moment listened to the cry, That thickened as the chase drew nigh; Then, as the headmost foes appeared, With one brave bound the copse he cleared And stretching forward free and far, Sought the wild heaths of Uam-var. IIlL Yelled on the view the opening pack-. Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back; To many a mingled sound at once The awakened mountain gave response. 22* I — __ _ ___________

Page  241 CANTO I. THE COASE 941 An hundred dogs bayed deep and strong, Clattered a hundred steeds along, Their peal the merry horns rang out An hundred voices joined 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 cowered the doe, The falcon, from her cairn on high, Cast on the rout a wondering eye, Till far beyond her piercingken, The hurricane had swept the glen. Faint, and more faint, its failing din Returned from cavern, cliff, and lin, And silence settled, wide and still, On the lone wood and mighty hilL IV., Less loud the sounds of sylv an war Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, And roused the cavern where,'tis tolt, 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, stayed perforce, Was fain to breathe his faltering horse; And of the trackers of the deer Scarce half the lessening pack was near-s So shrewdly, on the mountain side, IHad the bold burst their mettle tried. V. The noble stag was pausing now Upon the mountain's southern brow, Where broad extended far beneath, The varied realms of fair Menteith. With anxious eye he wandered o'er Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, And pondered refuge from his toil, By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. But nearer was the copse wood gray That waved and wept on Loch-Achray,. And mingled with the pine-trees blue On the bold cliffs of Ben-venue. Fresh vigour with the hope returnedWith flying foot the heath he spurned,:

Page  242 242 T LADY oF TEm LAo. CArM 1. Held westward with unwearied race, And left behind the panting chase. VTL'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, As swept the hunt through Cambus-more; What reins were tightened in despair. When rose Benledi's ridge in air; Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath, Who shunned to stem the flooded TeithFor twice, that day, from shore to shore, The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er, Few were the stragglers, following far, That reached the lake of Vennachar; And when the Brigg of Turk was won, The headmost horseman rode alone. VIL Alone, but with unbated zeal, That horseman plied the scourge and steel; For, jaded now, and spent with toil, Embossed with foam, and dark with soil, While every gasp with sobs he drew, The labouring Stag strained full in view. Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed, Fast on his flying traces came, And all but won that desperate game; For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, Vindictive toiled 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. VIUL The hunter marked that mountain high, The lone lake's western boundary, And deemed the Stag must turn to bay, Where that rude rampart barred the way; Already glorying in the prize, Measured his antlers with his eyes; For the death-wound, and death-halloo, Mustered his oreath, his whinyard drew;

Page  243 Adf~EQ~'P, AIIE CHASE. 243 But, thundering as he came prepared, With ready arm and weapon bared. The wily quarry shunned the shock, And turned him from the opposing rock; Then, dashing down a darksome glen, Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken, In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook His solitary refuge took. There while close couched, the thicket shed Cold dews and wild flowers on his head, He heard the baffled dogs in vain Rave through the hollow pass anlain, Chiding the rocks that yelled again. IM. Close on the hounds the hunter came, To cheer them on the vanished game; But, stumbling in the logged dell, The gallant horse exhausted fell. The impatient rider strove in vain To rouse himn with the spur and rein, For the good steed,his labours o'er, Stretched his stiff limbs to rise no more. Then, touched with pity and remorse, He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse; — "I little thought, when first thy rein I slacked upon the banks of Seine, That highland eagle e'er should feed On thy fleet limbs my matchless steed! Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, That cost tby life, my gallant grayl " — Then through the dell his horn resounds, From vain pursuit to call the hounds, Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, The sulky. leaders-of the chase; Close to their master's side they pressed, With drooping tail and humbled crest; But still the dingle's hollow throat Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. The owlets started from their dream, The eagles answered with their screamn Round and around the sounds were cas t,'Tll echo seermed an answering blast;

Page  244 244 TIIM LADY O TRn LXagE CAIN V. And on the hunter hied his way, To join some comrades of the day; Yet often paused, so strange the road, So wondrous were the scenes it show'& XL The western waves of ebbing day Rolled o'er the glen their level ways Each purple peak, each flinty spire, Was bathed in floods of living fire. But not a setting beam could glow Within the dark ravines below, Where twined the path, in shadow hiM Round many a rocky pyramid, Shooting abruptly from the dell Its thunder-splintered pinnacle; Round many an insulated mass, The native bulwarks of the pass, Huge as the tower which builders vain PresumDt.,oua niled on Shinar's plain, Thei,jy summits, split and rent, Formcd turret, dome, or battlement, Or seemed fantastically set With cupola or mineret, Wild crests as pagod ever decked, Or mosque of eastern architect. Nor were these earth-born castles bare, Nor lacked they many a banner fair; For, from their shivered brows displayed, ZFar o'er the unfathomable glade, All twinkling with 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 XIL Boon nature scattered, free and wild, Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. Here eglantineembalmed the air, Hawthorn and hazel mingled there; The primrose pale, and violet flower, Found in each cliff a narrow bower; Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side, Emblems of punishment and pride, Grouped their dark hues with every stain The weather-beaten crags retain.

Page  245 THE CHA. 2 With boughs that quaked at every breath, Gray birch and aspen wept 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 seemed.the cliffs to meet on high, lais boughs athwart the narrowed sky. )Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, Where glistening streamers waved and danced, The wanderer's eye could barely view The summer beaven's delicious blue; -So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 4The scenery of a fairy dream., 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; Lost for a space, through thickets veering, But broader when again appearing, Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face Could on the dark-blue mirror trace; And farther as the hunter stray'd, Still broader sweep its channels made'The shaggy mounds no longer stood, Emerging from entangled wood, But, wave encircled, seemed to float, 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. And now, to issue from the glen, qNo pathway meets the wanderer's ken, Unless he climb, with footing nice, A far projecting precipice. Al The broom's tough roots his ladder made, The hazel saplings lent their aid; And thus an airy point he won, Where,.gleaming with -the setting sun, ____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _.. _ _ _ _ _ _ i_. _ _

Page  246 2(46 TIE LADY OF THE MAME. okAWO I One burnish'd sheet of living gold, Loch-Katrine lay beneath him rolled; In all her length far winding lay, With promontory, creek, and bay, And islands that,empurpled bright, Floated amid the livelier light; And mountains, that like giants stand, To centinel enchanted land. High on the south, huge Ben-venue Down to the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled~ The fragments of an earlier world; A wildering forest feathered o'er His ruined 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 is here," he cried, "For princely pomp or churchman's prided 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 horn Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn! How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute, Chime, when the groves are still and mutet' And, when the midnight moon should lavae 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 bewildered stranger call To friendly feast, and lighted hall, XVL "Blithe were it then to wander here! But now- beshrew yon nimble deerl — Like that same hermit's, thin and spare The copse must. give my evening fare;

Page  247 CANTO L THE CHAS] 24 7 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 missed than found: To meet with highland plunderers here Were worse than loss of steed or deer.- I am alone;- my bugle strain May call somestragglerof the train; Or, fall the worst that may betide, Ere now this falchion has been tried XVIL 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 the silver strand, Just as the hunter left his stand, And stood concealed amid the brake, To view this Lady of the Lake. The maiden paused, as if again She thought to catch the distant strain, With head up-raised, and look intent, And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back, and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art. In listening mood she seemed to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand. XVIIL 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 ardent frown...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~________________________

Page  248 24E THE LADY OF TRE LAIKE. CANTO l. 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 trained her pace-. A foot more light, a step more true, Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed 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 tongueThose silver sounds, so soft, so dear, The listener held his breath to hear. A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid; lHer satin snood, her silken plaid, H er golden broocb,sueh birth betrayed. 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 folds 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 confessed The guileless movements of her breast, Whether joy danced -in her dark eye, Or woe or pity claimed a sigh, Or filial love was glowing there, Or meek devotion poured a prayer, Or tale of injury called forth The indignant spirit of the north. One only passion, unrevealed, With -maiden pride the maid concealed, Yet not less purely felt the flame; — Oh need I tell that passion's name? 1r ixx. Impatient of the silent horn, Now on the gale her voice was borne. —.1:. _._._ ___ ___.,_ ___.___________ I

Page  249 CA.ETO I. THE CHASE. 249 "Father!" she cried-the rocks around Loved to prolong the gentle sound. A while she paused, no answer came"Malcolm, was thine the blast?" the name Less resolutely uttered fell, The echoes could not catch the swell "A stranger I," the Hunstman said, Advancing from the hazel shade. The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar, Pushed her light shallop from the shore. And when a space was gained between, Closer she drew her bosom's screen; (So forth the startled swan would swing, So turn to prune his ruffled wing.) Then safe, though fluttered and amazed, She paused, and on the stranger gazed. Not his the form, nor his the eye, That youthful maidens wont to fly. XXL On his bold visage, middle age Had slightly pressed its signet sage, Yet had not quenched 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 fire, Of hasty love, or headlong ire, His limbs were cast in manly mould, For hardy sports, or contest bold; And though in peaceful garb arrayed, 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 showed, He told of his benighted road; 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. XXIL A while the maid the stranger eyed, And, reassured, at last replied,

Page  250 TRE LADY OF THE LA1!. CANTO I That highland halls were open still 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 men 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 tost, 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." XXIIL "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 plightA gray-haired sire, whose eye intent Was on the visioned future bent. He saw your steed, a dappled gray, Lie dead beneath the birchen way; Painted exact your form and mien, Your hunting suit of Lincoln green, That tassell'd 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;F But light I held his prophecy, 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,

Page  251 CANTQ L THE CAGS, 2l,Pnounced by prophet sooth and old, I)oomed, 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 firigate 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; WVith 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. XXVL It wassa lodge of ample size, But strange of structure and device; Of such materials as around The workman's hand had readiest founr. Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, And by the hatchet rudely squared, To give the walls their destined height, The sturdy oak and ash unite; While moss and clay and leaves combined To fence each crevice fiom the wind. The lighter pine-trees over-head, Theis slender length tir rafters spread, _________..._. A, n_., _.. _ __

Page  252 2S2 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, CANTO L 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 twine The ivy and Idaaan vine, The clematis, the favoured flower, Which boasts the name of virgin- bower, And every hardy plant could bear Ifoch-Katrine's keen and searching air. An instant in this porch she staid, And gaily to the stranger said,'OnHeaven and on thy lady call And enter the enchanted hall'" XXVIL "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 sung, 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 here, 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-skinsdappled, dun, and white, With otter's fur and seal's unite, In rude and uncouth tapestry all, To garnish forth the sylvan hall The wondering stranger round him gazed, And next the fallen weapon raised.;

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Page  253 CANTO I. THE CHASE, 25 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, "W' hose 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 Ar!e women now, and menials old. IIXX. 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. i hat fellest foe might join the feast, And from his deadliest foeman's door lUnquestion'd 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; EHis sire had fallen in such turmoil, And he, God wot, was forced to stand Oft for his right with blade in hand. This morning with Lord Moray's train IHe 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; 28*

Page  254 134 TbTHE LADY 0 P Tgf LAofl 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 charmed rhymes we sing." She sang, and still a harp unseen Filled up the symphony between. xXL SONG. "Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Dream of battle' 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. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come At the daybreak from the fallow, And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge her

Page  255 i ANT O TM CHAUB 255 Here's no war-steed's neigh and champn~, Shouting clans or squadrons stamping." l OTTxxxK She paused- then, blushing, led the lay i To grace the stranger of the day; Her mellow notes awhile prolong The cadence of the flowing song, Till to her lips in measured frame The minstrel verse spontaneous came. soN-G-continued. "Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, While our slumberous spells assail ye, Dream not, with the rising sun, Bugles here shall sound reveille. Sleep! the deer is in his den; Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lyingg Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen, How thy gallant steed lay dying. Huntsman, restI thy chase is done, Think not of the rising sun, For at dawning to assail ye, Here no bugles sound reveille." XXXILI The hall was cleared- the Stranger's bed Was there of mountain heather spread, Where oft an hundred guests had lain, And dreamed their forest sports again. But vainly did the heath-flower shed Its moorland fragrance round his head; Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest The fever of his troubled breast. In broken dreams the image rose Of varied perils, pains, and woes; His steed now flounders in the brake, Now sinks his barge upon the lake; Now leader of a broken host, His standard falls, his honour's lost. Then-from my couch may heavenly might Chase that worst phantom of the night!Again returned the scenes of youth, Of confident undoubting truth; Again his soul he interchanged With friends whose hearts were long estranged

Page  256 236 B TE LADY OF TRE LARD. CA.NTO I They conie, 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, Oh were his senses false or true! Dreamed he of death, or broken vow, Or is it all a vision nowl i I /XXXIV, At length, with Ellen in a grove, He seemed to walk, and speak of love, She listened with a blush and sigh; His suit was warm, his hopes were high. |He sought her yielded hand to clasp, And a cold gauntlet met his grasp; The phantom's sex was changed and gone1 Upon its head a helmet shone; Slowly enlarged to giant siz With darkened cheek and threatening eyes, The grisly visage,.stern and hoar, To Ellen still a likeness bore. He woke, and, panting with affright, Recalled 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 falchion hung on high, And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along, Until, the giddy whirl to cure, He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. XXXV. The wild rose, eglantine, and broom, Wafted around their rich perfume; The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm,;The aspens slept beneath the calm; The silver light, with quivering glance, Played 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 breast:-

Page  257 CANTo L TEI ISLAN.57 "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 fevered dream, But still the Douglas is the theme?I'll dream no more-by manly mind Not even in sleep is will resigned. My midnight orison said o'er,'ll turn to rest, and dream no morem. His midnight orison he told, A prayer with every bead of gold, Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, And sank in undisturbed repose; Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, %nd morning, dawned on Ben-venue. CANTO SECOND. THE ISLAND L AT morn the black.cock trims his jetty wing,'Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay, All Nature's children feel the matin spring Of life reviving, with reviving day; And while you little bark glides down the bay, Wafting the Stranger on his way again, Morn's genial influence roused a Minstrel grey, And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, Mix'd with the sounding harp, 0 white-haired Allao banel IL BONG. "Not faster yonder rowers' might Flings from their oars the spray,

Page  258 2t58 THE LADY OF T AKE. T..A Xl i Not faster yonder rippling bright, That tracks the shallop's course in light, Melts in the lake away, Than men from memory erase The benefits of former days; Then, Stranger, go! good speed the whihs, Nor think again of the lonely isle. "High place to thee in royal court, High place in battled line, Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport, Where beauty sees the brave resort, The honoured meed be thine! True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, And lost in love's and friendship's spa;1e! Be'memory of the lonely isle. IHL soNG-continued. "But if beneath yon southern sky A plaided stranger roam, Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, And sunken cheek and heavy eye, Pine for his highland home; Then, warrior, then be thine to show The care that soothes a wanderer's woe l Remember then thy hap ere while A stranger in the lonely isle. "Or if on life's uncertain main, Mishap shall mar thy sail; If faithful, wise, and brave in vain, Woe, want, and exile thou sustain Beneath the fickle gale; Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, On thankless courts, or friends estranged, But come where kindred worth shall smige, To greet thee in the lonely isle." IV. As died the sounds upon the tide, The shallop reached the main-land side, And ere his onward way he took,.The Stranger cast a lingcring look,

Page  259 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 heaven, As from the rising sun to claim A sparkle of inspiring flame. His hand, reclined upon the wire, Seemed watching the awakening fire;'So still he sate, as those who wait Till judgment speak the doom of fate; So still, as if no breeze might dare To lift one lockof hoary hair; So still as life itself were-fled, In the last sound his harp had sped. V. 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 vexed spaniel, from the beach, Bayed at the prize beyond his reach? Yet tell me the,. the maid who knows, Why deepaenedon her cheek the rose?Forgive, forgive, Fidelity! Prrchance the maiden smiled to see Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, And stop and turn to wave anew; And, lovely ladies, ere your ire Condemn the heroine of my lyre, Show me the fair would scorn to spy, And prize such conquest of her.eye! ij ~i ~VI. -!~ ~~While yet he loitered on the spot, It seemed as Ellen marked him not But when he turned him to the glad, One courteous parting sign she makde 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 [ I z m~~~~~~~~ _..,'.,~~~~~~~~~~~~~-~~~, ~ ~ ~ ~ ~. i...~~~~~~

Page  260 Q6Q iTE LADY OF THES JolA. CAINTO It. Now with a trusty mountain guide, And his dark stag-hounds by his side, He parts-the maid, unconscious still, Watched him wind slowly round the hillU But when his stately form was hid, The guardian in her bosom chid"Thy Malcolm! vain and selfish maid'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said, "Not so had Malcolm idly hung On the smooth phrase of southern tonguet Not so had Malcolm strained his eye Another step than thine to spy." "Wake, Allan-banel" aloud she cried, To the old Minstrel by her side, "Arouse thee from thy moody dreamt I'll give thy harp heroic theme, And warm thee with a noble name; Pour forth the glory of the Graeme." Scarce from her lip the word had rusheda When deep the conscious maiden blushled For of his clan, in hall and bower, Young Malcolm Grame was held the fiower VIL The Minstrel waked his harp-three time Arose the' well-known martial chimes, And thrice their high heroic pride In melancholy murmurs died. "Vainly thou bidd'st, oh noble maid! Clasping his withered hands, he said, "Vainly thou bidd'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.spannde I touch the chords of joy, but low And mournful answer notes of woe; And the proud march which victors tread. Sinks in the wailing for the dead. Oh well for me, if mine alone That dirge's deep prophetic tonel If, as my tuneful fathers said, This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed Can thus its master's fate foretell, Thea welcome be the minstrel's kneUl

Page  261 Z'ATO aI,[ THE ISLAIM U VIIa' "But ahl dear lady, thus it sighed The eve thy sainted mother died; And such the sounds which, while I strove To wake a lay' of war or love, i Came marring all the festal mirth,:i Appalling me who gave them birth, And, disobedient to my call, Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hsil, Ere Douglases to ruin driven, Were exiled from their native heaven. hl! if yet worse mishap and woe My master's house must undergo, Or aught but weal 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 woe,'Then shivered shall thy fragments lie, Thy mastecast him down and die." Soothing she answered him, "Assuage, Mine honoured friend, the fears of ages All melodies to thee are known, That harp has rung or pipe has blown, In lowland vale, or highland glen,.FromTweed to Spey-what marvel, thei At times, unbidden notes should rise, Confusedly bound in memory's ties, Entangling, as they rush along, The war-march with the funeral song? Small ground is now for boding fear; Obscure, but safe, we rest us here.' My sire, in native virtue great,. lResigning lordship, lands, and state, Not then to fortune more resigned, Than yonder oak might give the wind; The graceful foliage storms may reave, i The noble stem they cannot grieve. For me" — she stooped, and, looking round, Plucked a blue hare-bell from the ground, "For me, whose memory scarce conveys an image of more splendid days, ~~~~~~ 1 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~42

Page  262 232 TrE LA~DY OP an. TEm LA. ija This little flower, that loves the lea, May well my simple emblem be; It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rosel That in the king's own garden grows, i And when I place it in my hair, Allan, 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 snlile*h Her smile, her speech, with winning sway Wiled the old harper's mood away. With such a look as hermits throw When angels stoop to soothe their woe, He gazed, till fond regret and pride Thrilled to a tear; then thus replied:- "Loveliest and best! thou little know'st The rank, the henours thou hast lost! Oh might I live 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 -f every minstrel's art, The Lady of the leeding Heartl" "Fair dreams are these," the maiden criei3! (Light was her accent, yet she sighed,) "Yet is this mossy rock to me Worth splendid chair and canopy; Nor would my footstep; spring more gay In courtly dance than blithe strathspey, Nor half so pleased mine ear incline To royal minstrel's lay as thine; And then for suitors-proud and high To bend before my conquering eye, Thou, flattering bard! thyself wilt say, i That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride The terror of Loch-Lomond's side, Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delwy A Lennox foray-for a day." i _...._,,.........,..,.,i~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Page  263 G USTO U THE ISLAD. 263 The ancient bard his glee repressed: " Ill hast thou chosen theme for jest! 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 outlawed, hath his hand Full sternly kept his mountain land. Who else dared give-ahl woe the day, That I such hated truth should sayThe Douglas, like a stricken deer, Disowned by every noble peer, Even the rude refuge we have here? Alas, this wild marauding chief 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 brought. Then, though an exile on the hill, Thy father, as the Douglas, still Be held in reverence and fear. But though -to Roderick thou'rt so dear, That thou might'st guide with silken threax, Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread; Yet, oh loved maid, thy mirth refraini Thy hand is on a lion's mane." "Minstrel," the maid replied, and high Her father's soul glanced from her eye, "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 sorrowed o'er a sister's child: To her brave chieftain son, from ire Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, A deeper, holier debt is owed; And, could I pay it with my blood, Allan! Sir Roderick should commanlI My blood, my life-but not my haul. Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell A. votaress in Maronan's cell;

Page  264 264 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO II. |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 shak'st, good friend, thy tresses greyThat 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 ohl that very blade of steel More nercy for a foe would feel: 1 grant him liberal, to fling Among his clan the wealth they bring, WheJ back by lake and glen they wind, And in the Lowland leave behind, Wh re once some pleasant hamlet stood, A mass of ashes slaked with blood. Tha hand, that for my father fought, I onour, as his daughter ought; Bat can I clasp it reeking red, From peasants slaughtered 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-andchildren knowi Instinctive taught, the friend and foe-, I shuddered 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-, What think'st thou of our stranger guest?" "What think I of him?-woe the while That brought such wanderer to our isle! i ~ —-- ------------

Page  265 CANTO I, THE OsLAD. 265 Thy father's battle-brand, of yore For Tine-man forged by fairy lore, What time he leagued, no longer foes, His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, Did, self unscabbarded, foreshow The footstep of a secret foe. If courtly spy, and harboured here, What may we for the Douglas fear? What for this island, deemed of old Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold? If neither spy nor foe, I pray What yet may jealous Roderick say! -Nay, wave not thy disdainful head! Bethink thee of the discord dread, That kindled when at Beltane game, Thou ledd'st the dance with Malcolm Grime; Still, though thy sire the peace renewed, Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud; Bewarel!-But hark, what sounds are these? My dull ears catch no faltering breeze, No weeping birch, nor aspens wake, Nor breath is dimpling 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." XVL Far up the lengthened lake were spied Four darkening specks upon the tide, That, slow enlarging on the view, Four manned and masted barges grew, And bearing downwardsfrom Glengylse Steered full upon the lonely isle; The point of Brianchoil they passed, And, to the windward as they cast, Against the sun they gave to shine The bold Sir Roderick's bannered pine. Nearer and nearer as they bear, I Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. i ow might you see the tartans brave, And plaids and plumage dance and wave; Now see the bonnets sink and rise, * The Cotton-grass 24*

Page  266 266 THE LADY OrF THE LAKE. CANTO IL 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 furrowed bosom of the deep, As, rushing through the lake amain, They plied the ancient Highland strain. XVIL Ever, as on they bore, more loud And louder rung the pibroch proud. At first the sounds by distance tame, Mellowed along the waters came, And, lingering long by cape and bay, Wailed every harsher note away; Then, bursting bolder on the ear, The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear, 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 battered earth returns their tread. 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 broad-sword upon target jarred; And groaning pause, ere yet again, Condensed, the battle yelled amain; The rapid charge, the rallying shout, Retreat borne headlong into rout, And bursts of triumph, to declare Clan-Alpine's conquest-all were there. Nor ended thus the strain; but slow, Sunk in a moan prolonged and low, And changed the conquering clarion swell, For wild lament o'er those that fell. XVIIL The war-pipes ceased; but lake and hill Were busy with their echoes still;

Page  267 0ANTO I1. THE ISLAN. And, when they slept, a vocal strain Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, While loud an hundred clansmen raise Their voices in their chieftain's praise. Each boatman,bending to his oar, With measured sweep the burthen bore, In such wild cadence, as the, breeze Makes through December's leafless treesc The chorus first could Allan know, "Roderigh Vich Alpine, ho iro I" And near, and nearer. as they rowed, Distinct the martial ditty flowed. BOAT SONG. Hail to the chief who in triumph advances! Honoured and blessed be the ever-green Pinlr I ong may the tree in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our linel Heaven send it happy dew, Earth lend it sap anew; Gaily to bourgeon, and broadly to grow, While every highland glen Sends our shout back agen "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, hol ieroe! "* 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 mountain, The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. Moored in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest's shock, Firmer he roots him the ruder it blew; Menteith and Breadalbane, then, Echo his praise agen, S'Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, hol ieroeml Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in GleAr Fruin, And Banachar's groans to our slogan replied; Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in rum, And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on ner sides *Black Roderick,the descendant of Alpine

Page  268 ;8 rTHE LADY OF THE LANA. CANTO IL Widow and Saxon maid Long shall lament our raid, Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe; Lennox and Leven-glen Shake when they hear agen, Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroeln Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlandst Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine! Oh! that the rosc-bud that graces yon islands, Were wreathed in a garlandaround him to twine. Oh that some seedling gem, Worthy such noble stem, Honoured and blessed in their shadow nmrgh' gr.v; Loud should Clan-Alpine then Ring from her deepmost glen, "Roderigh Vich-Alpine dhu, hol ieroel" XXL With all her joyful female band, Had Lady Mlargaret 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 called Ellen to the strand, Te greet her kinsman ere he land; "Come, loiterer, come! a Douglas thoui, And shan to wreathe a victor's brow?" Reluctantly and slow, the maid The unwelcome summoning obeyed, And, when a distant bugle rung, In the mid-path aside she sprung: "List, Allan-bane! from mainland cast. I hear my father's signal blast. Be ours," she cried, "the skiff to guide, And waft him from the mountain side. Then, like a sunbeam swift and bright, She darted to her shallop light, And,, eagerly while Roderick scanned, ]For her dear form, his mother's band, The islet far behind her lay, And she had landed in the bay. XXII. Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in themra than heave

Page  269 VAISTO 11. TV IMiM. 269,SA And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and leare A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek,'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head i And as the Douglas to his breast His darling Ellen closely pressed, Such holy drops her tresses steep'd, Though'twas an hero's eye that weep' |L Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue Her filial welcomes crowded hung, Marked she, that fear (affection's proof Still held a graceful youth aloof; No! not till Douglas named his name, Although. the youth was Malcolm Graelm. Allan, with wistful look the while, Marked Roderick standing on the isle; His master piteously he eyed, Then gazed upon the chieftain's pride, Then dashed, with hasty hand, away From his dimmed eye the gathering spray; &And Douglas, as his hand he laid On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said, "Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy In my poor follower's -glistening eye? rll tell thee:-he recalls the day, When in my praise he led the lay O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, While many a minstrel answered loud, When Percy's Norman pennon, won In bloody field; before me shone, And twice ten knights, the least to name As mighty as yon chief may claim, Gracing my pomp, behind me came. Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud Was I of all that marshalled crowd, Though the waned crescent owned my might, And in my train trooped lord and knight, Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays, And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise, As when this old man's silent tear, And this poor maid's affection dear, A welcome give more kind and true Than aught my better fortunes knew.

Page  270 Ii'B lbTHE LADY OF TnP LAoK Forgve, my friend, a father's boast Oh! i]t out-beggars all I lost!" XXIV Delightful praise! —like summer rose, That brighter in the dew-drop glows, The bashful maiden's cheek appearedXFor Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard, The flush of shame-faced joy to hide, The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide: The loved caresses of the maid The dogs with crouch and whimper paid, And, at her whistle, on her hand The falcon took his favourite stand, Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye, Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. And trust, while in such guise she stood, Like fabled Goddess of the Wood, That if a father's partial thought O'erweighed her worth and beauty aught Well might the lover's judgment fail, To balance with a juster scale; For with each secret glance he stole, The fond enthusiast sent his soul XxV. Of stature fair, and slender frame, But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. The belted plaid and tartan hose Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose; His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, Curled closely round his bonnet blue; Trained to the chase, his eagle eye The ptarmigan in snow could spy; Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, He knew, through Lennox and Menteith; Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe, i; When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, And scarce that doe, though winged wish fee Outstripped in speed the mountaineer; Right up Ben-Lomond could he press, And not a sob his toil confess; HEIis form accorded with a mind, Lively and ardent, frank and kind; A blither heart, till Ellen came, Did never love nor sorrow tame;

Page  271 CAN TO Il. 2AdlI ISLa 27 It danced as lightsome in his breast, As played the feather on his crest. Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth, His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, And bards, who saw his features bold, When kindled by the tales of old, Said, were that youth to manhood grown, Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, But quail to that of Malcolm Grzame. XXVI. Now back they wend their watery wty, And "Oh my sirel" did Ellen say, "Why urge thy chase so far astray? And why so late returned? And why" — The restwas in her speaking eye. "My child, the chase I follow far,'Tis mimicry of noble war: And with that gallant pastime reft Were all of Douglas I have left. I met young Malcolm as I strayed lFar eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade, Nor strayed I safe; for, all around, Hunters and horsemen scoured the groun. This youth, though still a royal ward, Risked life and land to be my guard, And through the passes of the wood' Guided my steps not unpursued; And Roderick shall his welcome make, Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen, Nor peril aught for me agen." Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, Reddened at sight of Malcolm Greme, Yet, nor in action, word, or eyoe, Failed aught in hospitality. In talk and sport they whiled away The morning of that summer day; But at high noon a courier light Held secret parley with the knight, Whose moody aspect soon declared, That evil were the news he Heard. I — ~ —---------- --— ~~~~~~~ —------- ~ —------— ~ —--- ~ -- -~ —------—.-~~~~~~~~~~~-. —.. --—..-~~~~~~-..i -— ~~~-L-~-^ ----— ~~~~~ _...~~_.______ -_ ~~~~~~~.__.~~.. i 1~ i~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~..~~.~~. _-;_

Page  272 272 HE LADY OF THE LAKE. C kNTO tI. Deep thought seemed toiling in his head; Yet was the evening banquet made, Ere he assembled round the flame, His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme, And Ellen too; then cast around His eyes, then fixed them on the ground, As studying phrase that might avail Best to convey unpleasant tale. Long with his dagger's hilt he played, Then raised his haughty brow, and said:. "'Short be my speech; nor time affords, Nor my plain temper, glozing words. Kinsman and father- if such name Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim Mine honoured mother; Ellen-why,! My cousin, turn away thine eye? And Graeme; in whom I hope to know Full soon a noble fiiend or foe, When age shall give thee thy command, And leading in thy, native land — List all! The King's vindictive pride Boasts to have tamed the Border-side, Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came To share their monarch's sylvan game, Themselves in bloody toils were snared, And when the banquet they prepared, And wide their loyal portals flung, O'er their own gateway struggling hung. Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead, From Yarrow braes and banks of Tweed, Where the lone streams of Ettricke glide, And from the silver Teviot's side; The dales, where martial clans did ride, Are now one sheep-walk waste and wide. This tyrant of the Scottish throne, So faithless, and so ruthless known, Now hither comes; his end the samie, The same pretext of sylvan game. What grace for Highland chiefs judge ye, By fate of Border chivalry. Yet more; amid Glenfinlas'green, Douglas, thy stately form was seen. This by espial sure I know: Your counsel in the streiglt I shoW " ^ And..............,.s_,1. v._..,... i s e. _....,.. Or,... I,*.'..._._ 1

Page  273 iN L TO I HEISLA 273i Ellen and Margaret fearfully Sought comfort in each other's eye, Then turned their ghastly look, each one, This to her sire, that to her son. The hasty colour went and came In the bold cheek of Malcolm Greme; But, from his glance it well appeared,'Twas but for Ellen that he feared; While sorrowful, but undismay'd, The Douglas thus his counsel said: — "Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar, It may but thunder and pass o'er; Nor will I here remain an hour, To draw the lightning on thy bower: For well thou know'st, at this grey head The royal bolt were fiercest sped. For thee, who, at thy King's command, Canst aid him with a gallant band, Submission, homage, humbled pride, Shall turn the monarch's wrath aside. Poor remnants of theBleedingHeat, Ellen and I will seek, apart, The refuge of some forest cell; There, like the hunted quarry, dwell, Till, on the mountain and the moor, The stern pursuit be passed and o'er." XXX. "No, by mine honourl" Roderick said, "So help me heaven, and my good blade! No, never I blasted be yon pine, My fathers' ancient crest, and mine, If from its shade in danger part The lineage of the Bleeding Heart! Hear my blunt speech. Grant me this maid To wife, thy counsel to mine aid; To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dha, Will friends and allies flock enow; Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, Will bind to us each Western chief. When the loud pipes my bridal tell, The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, The guards shall start in Stirling's porch, And when I light the nuptial torch, l

Page  274 i.Qd 4 THE LADY OF THE LAo. CAIn Et A thousand villages in flames, Shall scare the slumbers of King James. -Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away, And, mother, cease these sighs, I pray; I meant not all my heat might say. Small need of inroad, or of fight, When the sage Douglas may unite Each mountain clan in friendly band, To guard the passes of their land, Till the foiled King, from pathless glen, Shall bootless turn him home agen." X:XI. There are who have, at midnight hour, In slumber scaled a dizzy tower, And, on the verge that beetled o'er The ocean-tide's incessant roar, Dreamed calmly out their dangerous (dl eain Till wakened by the morning beam; When, dazzled by the eastern glow, Such startler cast his glance below, And saw unmeasured depth around, And heard unintermitted sound, And thought the battled fence so fraIl, It waved like cobweb in the gale; Amid his senses' giddy wheel, Did he not desperate impulse feel, Headlong to plunge himself below, And meet the worst his fears foreshow! Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound, As sudden ruin yawned around, By crossing terrors wildly tost, Still for the Douglas fearing most, Could scarce the desperate thought withstands To buy his safety with her hand. XXXIL Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy In Ellen's quivering lip and eye, And eager rose to speak-but ere His tongue could hurry forth his fear, Had Douglas marked the hectic strife, WVhere death seemed combating with lieO For to her cheek, in feverish flood, One instant rushed the throbbing blood.

Page  275 Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, Left its domain as wan as clay. "Roderick,enoughl enoughl" he eried, "My daughter cannot be thy bride; Not that the blush to wooer dear, Nor paleness that of maiden fear. It may not be-forgive her, chief, Nor hazard aught for our relief. Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er'Will level a rebellious spear.'Twas I that taught his youthful hand To rein a steed and wield a brand. I see him yet, the princely boy! Not Ellen more my pride and joy; X love him still, despite my wrongs, By hasty wrath, and slanderous tonguea Oh seek the grace you well may find, Without a cause to mine combined," XXXIIL Twice through the hall the chieftain strode. The waving of his tartans broad, And darkened brow, where wounded pride With ire and disappointment vied, Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light, Like the ill Daemon of the night, Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway Upon the nighted pilgrim's way: lBut,unrequited Love! thy dart Plunged deepest its envenomed smart, And Roderick, with thine anguish stung, At length the hand of Douglas wrung, While eyes, that mocked at tears before, With bitter drops were running o'er. The death-pangs of long-cherished hope Scarce in that ample breast had scope, But, struggling with his spirit proud, Convulsive heaved its chequered shroud, While every sob-so mute were allWas heard distinctly through the hall. The son's despair, the mother's look, Ill might the gentle Ellen brook; She rose, and to her side there came, To aid her parting steps, the Gram XXXV. Then Roderick from the Douglas broke — As flashes flame through sable smoke, - _ _ --...-.- - -..-_....................... I............

Page  276 276 ETHE LAlYt O' TIEE LAKE..1tF " Kinding its wreaths;. long, dark and k'w, To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, So the deep anguish of despair Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. With stalwart grasp his hand he laid On Malcolm'sbreastand belted plaid:"Back, beardless boyl" he sternly said, "Back, minionl hold'st thou:thus at naugwlr The lesson I so lately taught? This roof, the Douglas, and that maid, Thank thou for punishment delayed." Eager as greyhound on bis game, Fiercely with Roderick grappled Grema. "Perish my name, if aught afford Its chieftain safety,save his sword!" Thus as they surove, their desperate hand Griped to the dagger or the brand, And death had been-but Douglas roser And thrust between the struggling foes His giant strength: —" Chieftains, forcol. I hold the first who strikes, my foe, Madmen, forbear your frantic jar! What! is the Douglas fallen so far,.-is daughter's hand is deemed the spoil Of such dishonourable broil! " Sullen and slowly, they unclasp, As struck with shame, their desperate gr..U;.i. 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 screamn As faltered through terrific dream. Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword., And veiled his wrath in scornful word. "Rest safe till morning.;. pity'twere Such cheek should feel the midnight air! Then may'st 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 catn~; "Give our safe conduct to the Grimne.'

Page  277 !.'N |z ~,' -1.~. LHE ISLANd. Y'~oung Malcolm answered, calm and bold, "F' ear nothing for thy favourite hold. Tile spot, an angel deigned to grace, Is blessed, though robbers haunt the placeu Thy churlish courtesy for bhose R eserve, who fear to be thy foes. 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 agen. Chieftain! we too shall find an hour," Hie said, and left the sylvan bower. 1Old Allaun followed 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 mo Much were theperil 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 broad-sword raollk, I is ample plaid in tightened fold, And stripped his limbs to such array As best might suit the watery way. XXXVIL Thenspoke abrupt: — Farewell to thee, Pattern of old fidelityl" The minstrel's hand he kindly pressed, " Oh! could I point a place of rest My sovereign holds in ward my land, My uncle leads my vassal band; To tame his foes,-his fiiends to aid, Pocr Malcolm has but heart and blade. Yet, if there be one faithful Grseme, Who -loves the Chieftain of his name, 25* ii, i

Page  278 THE LAWY OF TMELMARX C&Mr-0M. Not long shall honoured Douglas dwell, Like hunted stag, in mountain cell: Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare — I may not give the rest to airl — Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him nought, Not the poor service of a boat, To waft me to yon mountain side;" Then plunged he in the flashing tide. Bold o'er the flood his head he bore, And stoutly steered him from the showr And Allan strained his anxious eye, Far'mid the lake his form to spy. Darkening across each puny wave, To which the moon her silver gave, Fast as the cormorant could skim, The swimmer plied each active limb; Then landing in the moonlight dell, Loud shouted of his weal to tell The minstrel heard the far halloo, And joyful from the shore withdrewt CANTO THIRD. TM GATHERIGN TME rolls his ceaseless course. The raee of yora Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 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 bet 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.

Page  279 'A NTO II THIE GATHERING. 27( 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 note was keenly wound, What time aloft their kindred banner flew, While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound, And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, r ounUd. IL The summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Loch-Katrine blue; Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, 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, Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn; The grey mist left the mountain side, The torrent showed its glistening pride; Invisible in flecked sky, The lark sent down her revelry; The blackbird and the speckled thrush Good-morrow gave from brake and bush; In answer cooed the cushat dove, Her notes of peace, and. rest, and love. lL No thought of peace, no thought of rest, Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. With sheathed broad-sword 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 Vas prompt the ritual to prepare, ith deep and deathful meaning fraught such Antiquity had taught preface meet. ere yet abroad' oss of Fire should take its road. i:.

Page  280 ' 0 WTEE LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO UI The shrinking band stood oft aghast At the impatient glance he cast;Such glance the mountain eagle threw, As, from the cliffs of Ben-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 withered boughs was piled, Of juniper and rowan wild, Mingled with shivers from the oak, Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. Brian the Hermit by it stood, Barefooted, in his frock and hood. His grisled beard and matted hair Obscured a visage of despair; His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er, The scars of frantic penance bore. That Monk, of savage form and face, The impending danger of his race Had drawn from deepest solitude, ZFar in Benharrow's bosom rude. Not his the mien of Christian priest But Druid's, from the grave released, Whose hardened heart and eye might brook On human sacrifice to look. And much,'twas said, of heathen lore |Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er; The hallowed creed gave only worse And deadlier emphasis of curse. No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer, His cave the pilgrim shunned with care; The eager huntsman knew his bound, And in mid chase called off his hounds Or if, in lonely glen or strath, The desert-dweller met his path, He prayed, and signed the cross betweean While terror took devotion's mien. V. Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. His mother watched a midnight fold, Built deep within a dreary glen, iWhere scattered lay the bones of men,

Page  281 AN TO IA T THE GATHERING. 28i In some forgotten battle slain, And bleached by drifting wind and rain. It might have tamed a warrior's heart, To view such mockery of his art! The knot-grass fettered there the hand, Which once could burst an iron band) Beneath the broad and ample bone, That bucklered heart to fear unknown, A feeble and a timorous guest, The field-fare framed her lowly nest; There the slow blind-worm left his slime On the fleet limbs that mocked at time; And there, too, lay the leader's skull, still wreathed with chaplet flushed anl fui ]?or heath-bell, with her purple bloom, 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 hunter's hand her snood untied, Yet ne'er again to braid her hair The virgin snood did Alice wear; Gone was her maiden glee and sport, Her maiden girdle all too short, Nor sought she, from that fatal night, Or holy church or blessed rite, But locked her secret in her breast, And died in travail, unconfessed. VIL 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, To wood and stream his hap to wail. Till, frantic, he as truth received What of his birth the crowd believed, And sought, in mist and meteor fire, To meet and know his Phantom Sirel In vain to soothe his wayward fate, The cloister oped her pitying gate; In vain, the learning of the age Unclasped the sable-lettered page; / A,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.._. _..___.....__.~~_..

Page  282 282 THE LADY OF THE' LAXE. 4OAIo tL Even in its treasures he could find Food for the fever of his mind. Ehger 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'erstrung, And heart with mystic horrors wrung, Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, And hid him from the haunts of men. VIL The desert gave him visions wild, Such as might suit the Spectre's child. Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, He watched 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, Swelled with the voices of ne dead. Far on the future battle-heath His eye beheld the ranks of death; Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled, Shaped forth a disembodied world. One lingering sympathy of mind Still bound him to the mortal kind; 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 horseman ne'er might ride; The thunderbolt had split the pine — All augur'd ill of Alpine's line. He girt his loins, and came to show The signals of impending woe, And now stood prompt to bless or ba, As bade the Chieftain of his clan. VIIL'was all prepared-and from the rock, A goat, the patriarch of the flock,

Page  283 CANTO MI. THE GATHERING. 2 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 clogged beard and shaggy limbN Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. The grisly priest, with murmuring prayew, A slender crosslet framed with care. A cubit's length in measure due; The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's graves And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. The Cross, thus formed, he held on high, With wasted hand and haggard eye, And strange and mingled feelings woke, While his anathema he spoke. "Woe to the clansman, 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 woe." 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, Then, like the billow in his course, That far to seaward finds his source, And flings to shore his mustered force, Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarsw "Woe to the traitor, woet" Ben-an's grey scalp the accents knew, The joyous wolf from. covert drew, The exulting eagle screamed afarThey knew the voice of Alpine's war. X. The shout was hushed on lake and felk The Monk resumed his muttered spelL

Page  284 ~j4- TIRE LADY OF T4HE LAKE. Cfm Ea Dismal and low its accents came, The while he scathed the Cross with flame} And the few words that reached 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:"Woe 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 proclaim, While maids and matrons on his name Shall call down wretchedness and shame, And infarly and woe!" 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 stammered slow; Answering, with imprecation dread, "4'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 woe l" A sharp and shrieking echo gave, Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave! And the grey pass where birches wave, On Beala-nam-bo. XL Then deeper paused the priest anew, And hard his labouring breath he drew, While, with set teeth and clenched hand, And eyes that glowed like fiery brand, Hie meditated curse more dread, And deadlier, on the clansman's head, Who summoned to his Chieftain's aid, The signal saw and disobeyed. The crosslet's points of sparkling wood, He quenched among the bubbling blood, And as again the sign he reared, Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard;'When flits this cross firom man to ma, Vich-Apine's sumnmons to his claxi.

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Page  285 CATge ITS. TgE GATEIER2i!.I Burst oe 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, So may his heart's-blood drench his hearth! As dies in hissing'gore the spark, Quench thou his light, Destruction dark L And be the grace to him denied, Bought by this sign to all beside I" He ceased: no echo gave agen The murmur of the deep Amen. XIIL Then Roderick,with impatient look, From Brian's hand the symbol took: "Speed, Malise, speedI" he said, and Lam| The crosslet to his henchman brave: "The muster place be Lanric mead — Instant the time-speed, Malise, speed!" Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, A barge across Loch-Katline flew; High stood the henchman on the prow; So rapidly the bargemen row, The bubbles,. where they launched the boat, Were all unbroken and afloat, Dancing in foam and ripple still, When it had neared the mainland hill; And from the silver beach's side Still was the prow three fathoms wide, When lightly bounded to the land, The messenger of blood and brand. XIs. Speed, Malise, speed! the dun deer's hide On fleeter foot was nevw tied.. Speed, Malise, speed! such cause of haste Thine active sinews never braced. Bend'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, Burst down like torrent from its crest; With 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 leapk I -- -..... -.............................. L.

Page  286 Toe LADY OF THE Le. CANTO Parched 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 now, Pursu'st 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! Fast as the fatal symbol flies, In arms the huts and hamlets rise; From winding glen, from upland brown They poured each hardy tenant down, Nor slacked the messenger his pace; He sh6wed the sign, he named the place; And, pressing 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 swathe his scythe; The herds without a keeper strayed, The plough was in mid-furrow staid, The falc'ner tossed his hawk away, The hunter left the stag at bay; Prompt at the signal of alarms, Each son of Alpine rushed 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. XV Speed, Malise, speed! the lake is past, |Duncraggan's huts appear at last, And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, Half hidden in the copse so green; There may'st thou rest, thy labour done, T'heir Lord shall speed the signal on. As stoops the hawk upon his prey, The henchman shot him down the way.. i __~~~~~~____ ~ ~ __~ ~ ~______

Page  287 CAINTO 111 TnE GATHERING. — What woeful accents load the gale? The funeral yell, the female wail! A gallant hmnter's sport is o'er, A valiant warrior fights no more. Who, in the battle or the chase, At Roderick's side shall fill his place —Within the hall, where torch's ray Supplies the excluded beams of day, Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, And o'er him streams his widow's teat. His stripling son stands mournful by, His youngest weeps, but knows not why; The village maids and matrons round The dismal coronach resound. XVL CORONACHL He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sores The font, re-appearing, From the rain-drops shall borrow, 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; 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! XVIL See Stumah,* who, the bier beside, His master's corpse with wonder eyed+ Faithful. The name of a dog. _ __ __ _ _ _ ____ _

Page  288 THE LADY OF TILE LAKE. CANTO ftlT Poor StumahI 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. All stand aghast:-unheeding all, The henchman bursts into the hall! Before the dead man's bier he stood, Held forth the Cross besmeared with bloodt "The muster-place is Lanrick mead; Speed forth the signal! clansmen, speed!" XVIIL Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, Sprang forth and seized the fatal sign. In haste the stripling to his side His father's dirk and broad-sword tied; But when he saw his mother's eye Watch him in speechless agony, Back to her opened arms he flew, Pressed on her lips a fond adieu. "Alas!" she sobbed-" and yet be gone, And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son!" One look he cast upon the bier, Dashed from his eye the gathering tear, Breathed deep, to clear his labouring breast, And tos~'d aloft his bonnet crest, Then, like the high-bred colt when freed First he essays his fire and speed, He vanished, and o'er moor and moss Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. Suspended was the widow's tear, While yet his footsteps she could hear; And when she marked the henchman's eye Wet with unwonted sympathy, "Kinsman," she said, "his race is nrin, That should have sped thine errand on; The oak has fallen-the sapling boughi 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!t i~et babeb and women wail the dea(h'

Page  289 aTo II. THR GATHERING, 289 Then weapon-clan, and martial call, Resounded through the funeral hall, While from the walls the attendant band Snatched sword and targe, with hurried hand; And short and flitting energy Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, As if the sounds to warrior dear Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. But faded soon thatborrowedforce; Grief claimed his right, and tears their cours XiX. Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. O'er dale and hill the summons flew, Not rest nor pause young Angus knew; The tear that gathered 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. Swollen was the stream, remote the bridga, But Angus paused not on the edge; Though the dark Waves danced dizzily. Though reeled his sympathetic eye, He dashed amid the torrent's roar: His right hand high the crosslet bore, His left the pole-axe grasped, to guide And stay his footing in the tide. He stumbled twice-the foam splashed high, With hoarser swell the stream raced by; And had he fallen-for ever there, Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir! Butstill, as if in parting life, Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife, Until the opposing bank he gained, And up the chapel pathway strained. XX. A blithesome rout, that morning tide, Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. Her troth Tombea's Mary gave To Norman, heir of Armandave,. And, issuing from the Gothic arch, The bridal now resumed their march. 26*

Page  290 290 THE LADY OP THE LAKE CAE TX In rude, but glad procession, came Bonnetted sire and coif-clad dame; And plaided youth, with jest and jeer, Which snooded maiden would not haim: 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 anl 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. XXIL Who meets them at the church-yard gate? The messenger of fear and fate! Haste in his hurried accent lies, And grief is swimming in his eyes. All dripping from the recent flood, Panting and travel-soiled he stood, The fatal sign of fire and sword Held forth, and spoke the appointed word "The muster-place is Lanrick mead; Speed forth the signall Norman, speedl' And must he change so soon the hand, Just linked to his by holy band, For the fell cross of blood and brand? And must the day, so blithe that rose, And promised rapture in the close, Before its setting hour, divide The bridegroom from the plighted bride? Oh fatal doom!-it mustI it must! Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust, Her summons dread, brooks no delay; Stretch to the race-away! awayl XXIL Yet slow he laid his plaid aside, And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride, Until he saw the starting tear Speak woe he might not stop to cheer;

Page  291 taroe III.'THE oGTHERINt. Then, trusting not a second look, In haste he sped him up the brook, Nor backward glanced till on the heath, Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. What in the racer's bosom stirred? The sickening pang of hope deferred, And memory, with a torturing tram 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; ij rAnd zeal for clan and chieftain burning, i. And hope, from well-fought field returning,'With war's red honours on his crest,'To clasp his Mary to'his breast. Stung by such thoughts o er bank and bra, Like fire from flint he glanced away,' While high resolve, and feeling strong, BurSt into voluntary song. SON(lo 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; 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, Maryl I may not, dare not, fancy now The grief that clouds thy lovely brow' I dare not think upon thy vow, Anad 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, Maryl 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, Maryl 11~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.......

Page  292 292' TIMt L.Y OF THEP LAm Js:TO 1W. And if returned from conquered foes; How blithely will the evening close, How sweet the linnet sing repose To my young bride and me, MaryI xxI. Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, Balquidder, speeds the midnight blazre Rushing in conflagration strong, Thy deep ravines and dells along, 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 Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course; Thence southward turned its rapid road Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, Till rose in arms each man might elaim A portion in Clan-Alpine's name; From the grey 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 sequestered glen, Mustered its little horde of men, That met as torrentsfrom the height, IIn 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 trained to arms since life began, Owning no tie but to his clan, No oath, but by his Chieftain's hand, No law, but Roderick Dhu's eommandL XXv. That summer morn had Roderick Dhu Surveyedthe skirts of Berreuue, And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath, To view the frontiers of Menteith. All backward came with news of truce; StiUl lay each martial Grmeme and Bruec

Page  293 TH1E OITTIERTNWO. In Rednock courts no horsemen wait, No banner waved on Cardross gate, X()n Duchray's towers no beacon shone, Nor scared the herons from Loch-Con; All seemed at peace. Now, wot ye why' he Chieftain, withlsuch anxious eye, Ere to the muster he repair, This western frontier scanned with caredIn Ben-venue's most darksome cleft, A fair, though erael pledge was left; NFor Douglas, to his promise true,'That morning from the isle withdrew, And in a deep sequestered dell HIad sought a low and lonely cell By many a bard in Celtic tongue, iHas Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung; A softer name the Saxon gave, And called the grot the Goblin-cave. i I;VL It was a wild and -strange retrea4 As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet.'The dell, upon the mountain's crest, Yawned like a gash on warrior's brea*s Hurled by primeval earthquake shock IFrom Ben-venue's grey summit wild And here, in random ruin piled, They frowned incumbent o'er the spot, And formed the rugged sylvan grot.'The oak and birch, with mingled shade, At noontide there aitwilight made, Unless when short and sudden shone Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, With such a glimpse as prophet's eye jGains on thy depth, Futurity. No murmur waked the solemn still, Save tinkling of a fountain rill; But when the wind chafed with the loak A sullen sound would upward break, With dashing hollow voice, that spoke The incessant war.of wave and rock.,Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway, Seemed nodding o'er the cavern grey. From such a den the wolf had sprung, ln such the wild eat leaves her young' i - _ ___ - ____ _____ I______

Page  294 i29 THE LADY OF THE AB.',O M r Yet Douglas and his daughter fair, Sought, for a space, their safety there. Grey Superstition's whisper dread Debarred 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. A Ad XXV~IL Now eve, with western shadows long, Floated on Katrine bright and strongo, When Roderick, with a chosen few, Repassed the heights of.Ben-venue. Above the Goblin-cave they go, Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-boThe prompt retainers speed before, To launch the shallop from the shore For cross Loch-Katrine lies the way To view the passes of Aehray, i And place his clansmen in array. 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 heighV By the low-levelled sunbeam's light; For strength and stature, fEom the clan Each warrior 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 strt;i. Their Chief, with step reluctant; still' Was lingering on the craggy hill, Hard by where turned apart the road To Douglas's obscure abode. It was but with that dawning morn That Roderick Dhau had proudly sworns,

Page  295 ' VTO III. THE GATHERING.'295 To drown his love in war's wild roar, Nor think of'Ellen Douglas more: But he who stems a stream with sand, And fetters flame with flaxen band, Has yet a harder task to prove — By firm resolve to conquer love! Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, Still hovering near his treasure lost;;For though his haughty heart deny A parting meeting to his eye, Still fondly strains his anxious ear The accents of her voice to hear, And inly did he curse the breeze That waked to sound the rustling trees. But, hark! what mingles in the strain? It is the harp of Allan-bane, That wakes its measures slow and high, Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. What'melting voice attends the strings? Tis Ellen, or an angel, singsl XXIx. HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. Ave Maria!' maiden mildI Listen to a maiden's prayer; Thou canst hear though from the wild, Thou canst save amidst despair. Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, Though banished, outcast, and reviled — Maiden, hear a maiden's prayerI Mother, hear a suppliant child!. Ave Matia! Ave Maria I undefiled! The flinty couch we now must share, Shall 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! Ave Maria Ave Maria Stainless styled! Foul demons of the earth and air, From this their wonted haunt exiled, Shall flee before thy presence fair.

Page  296 296 THI LADY OF THE LA]ItE CANITO ilL We bow us to our lot of ce, Beneath thy guidance reconciled; Hear for a maid a maiden's Rrer! And for a father hear a child! Ave Marial Died on the harp the closing hymnUnmoved in attitude and limb, As listening 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"Hle muttered thrice-"the last time e'er That angel voice shall Roderick heart "It was a goading thought-his stride Ilied hastier down the mountain side; Sullen he flung him in the boat, And instant cross the lake it shot. They landed in that silvery bay, And eastward held their hasty way, Till, with the latest beams of light, The band arrived on Lanrick height, Where mustered in the vale below, Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. XXXL A various scene the clansmen made, Some sate, some stood, some slowly strayea; But most, with mantles folded round, Were couched to rest upon the ground, Scarce to be known by curious eye, From the deep heather where they lie, So well was matched the tartan screen With heath-bell dark and brackens green; Unless where, here and there, a blade, Or lance's point, a glimmer made, Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. But, when, advancing through the gloom, They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume, Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide, Shook the steep mountain's steady side. Thrice it arose, and lake and fell Three times returned the martial yell It died upon Bochastle's plain, And Silence claimed her evening reign.

Page  297 CANTO FOURTH. T!W PRoFEaor. *THE rose is fairest when'tis budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears. Oh wilding rose, whom fancy thus endear, I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, Emblem of hope and love through future yearsl' Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. ILI Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue, All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, His axe and bow beside him lay, For on a pass'twixt lake and wood, A wakeful sentinel he stood. Hark!-on the rock a footstep rung, And instant to his arms he sprung. "Stand, or thou diest! —What, Malise?-soon Art thou returned 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 called a slumberer by his side, And stirred him with his slackened bow — "Up, up, Glentarkin! rouse thee, hol

Page  298 298 TRE rROPHECY. CANTO IV We seek the Chieftain; on the track, Keep eagle watch till I come back." Together up the pass they sped: "What of the foeman? " Norman said. "Varying reports from near and far; This certain-that a band of war Has for two days been ready boune, At prompt command, to march from Doune; King James, the while, with princely powers, Holds revelry in Stirling towers. Soon will this dark and gathering cloud Speak on our glens in thunder loud. Inured to bide such bitter bout, The warrior's plaid may bear it out; But, Norman, how wilt thou provide A shelter for thy bonny brideS" What! know ye not that Roderick's care To the lone isle hath caused repair Each maid and matron of the clan, And every child and aged man Unfit for arms? and given his charge, Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, Upon these lakes shall float at large, But all beside the islet moor, That such dear pledge may rest secure?" IV. "'Tis well advised-the Chieftain's plan Bespeaks the father of his clan. But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dha Apart from all his followers true?" "It is; because last evening-tide Brian an augury hath tried, Of that dread kind which must not be Unless in dread extremity, The Taghairm called; by which, afar, Our sires foresaw the events of war. Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew — MALISE. "Ahl well the gallant brute I knew, The choicest of the prey we had,

Page  299 CAN{lTO V THE LADY OF THE LAKE. When swept our merry-men GallangadL His hide was snow, his horns were dark, His red eye glowed like fiery spark; So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet, Sore did he cumber our retreat, And kept our stoutest kernes in awe, Even at the pass of Beal'maha. But steep and flinty was the road, And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad, And when we came to Dennan's Row, A child might scatheless stroke his brow.' V. I ORMAN. "That bull was slain; his reeking hide They stretched the cataract beside, Whose waters their wild tumult toss Adown the black and craggy boss Of that huge cliff, whose ample verge Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. Couched on a shelve beneath its brink, Close where the thundering torrents sink, Rocking beneath their headlong sway And drizzled by the ceaseless spray, Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream, The wizard waits prophetic dream. Nor distant rests the Chief:-but hushl! See, gliding slow through mist and bushb The Hermit gains yon rock, and stands To gaze upon our slumbering bands. Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost, That hovers o'er a slaughtered iost? Or raven on the blasted oak, That, watching while the deer is broke, IHis morsel claims with sullen croakS" "Peace! peace! to other than to me, Thy words were evil augury; But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid, ZNot aught that, gleaned from heaven or IheVl Yon fiend-begotten monk can tell. The Chieftain joins him, see-and now, Together they descend the brow." VL And, as. they came,with Alpine's Lord The Hermit Monk held solemn word.

Page  300 THE PROPHECY. CANS W, "Roderick! it is a fearful strife, For man endowed with mortal life, Whose shroud of sentient clay can still Feel feverish pang and fainting chill, Whose eye can stare in stony trance, Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance-'Tis hard for such to view, unfurl'd, The curtain of the future world. Yet witness every quaking limb, My sunkenpulse,nmuit eyeballs dim, My soul with harrowing anguish torn, This for my Chieftain have I borne! The shapes that sought my fearful couch, An human tongue may ne'er avouch; No mortal man-save he, who, bred Between the living and the dead, Is gifted beyond nature's law, Had e'er survived to say he saw. At length the fateful answer came, In characters of living flame! Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, But born and branded on my soul;WHICH SPILLS THE FOREMOST FOEMANS LIE, THAT PAnTY CONQUERS IN THE STRIFE." VIL "Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and caret Good is thine augury, and fair. Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood, But first our broad-swords tasted blood A surer victinj still I know, Self-offered to the auspicious blow; A spy hath sought my land this morn, No eve shall witness his rs&turn! My followers guard each pass's mouth, To east, to westward, and to south; Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide, Has charge to lead his steps aside, Till, in deep path or dingle brown, He light on those shall bring him down. But see, who comes his news to showl Malisel what tidings of the foe?" "At Doune, o'er many a spear and glair, Zwo Barons proud their banners wame.

Page  301 ATO IV* - TIE LI? -OFP TIlE LAit 31 I saw the Moray's silver star, And marked the sable pale of Mar." "By Alpine's soul, high tidings those! I love to hear of worthy foes. When move they on?' "To-morrow's noon Will see them here for battle boune." "Then shall it see a meeting stern! — But, for the place-say, couldst thou learn Nought of the friendly clans of Earn? Strengthened by them we well might bide The battle on Benledi's side. Thou couldst not?-welll Clan-Alpine's men Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen; iWithin Loch-Katrine's gorge we'll fight, All in our maids' and matrons' sight, Each for his hearth and household fire Father for child, and son for sireLover for maid beloved!-but why-. Is it the breeze affects mine eye? Or dost thou come, ill-omen'd tear! A messenger of doubt or fear? No! sooner may the Saxon lance Unfix Benledi from his stance, Than doubt or terror can pierce throunh The unyielding heart of Roderick DhL;'Tis stubborn as his trusty targe. Each to his post!-all know their charge. The pibroch soundsthe bands advance, The broad-swords gleam, the banners daaur Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. I turn me from the martial roar, And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. Where is the Douglas?-he is gone; And Ellen sits on the grey stone Fast by the cave, and makes her moan? While vainly Allan's words of cheer Are poured on her unheeding ear. "He will return-dear lady, trust — With joy return; he will-he must! Well was it time to seek afar Some refuge from impending war, When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm Are cow'd by the approaching storm. I saw their boats, with many a light, Floating the live-long yesternight 27*

Page  302 TiEE PROPHEOCt.:ATO IV, Shifting like flashes- darted forth By the red streamers ot the north; I marked at morn how close they ride, Thick moored by the lone islet's side, Like wild ducks couching in the fen, When stoops the hawk upon the glen. Since this rude race dare not abide The peril on the mainland side, Shall not thy noble father's care Some safe retreat for thee prepare? "No, Allan, nol Pretext so kind My wakeful terrors could not blind. When in such tender tone, yet grave, Douglas a parting blessing gave, The tear that glistened in his eye Drowned not his purpose fixed and high, My soul, though feminine and weak,'Can image his; e'en as the lake, Itself disturbed by slightest stroke, Reflects the invulnerable rock. He hears reports of battle rife, He deems himself the cause of strife. I saw him redden, when the theme Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream, Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound, Which I, thou said'st, about him wound. Think'st thou he trow'd thine omen aught? Oh not'twas apprehensive thought For the kind youth-for Roderick too-. (Let me be just) that friend so true;i In danger both, and in our cause! Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. Why else that solemn warning given,'If not on earth we meet in heaven?' Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane, If eve return him not again, Am I to hie and make me known? Alas! he goes to Scotland's throne, Buys his friend's safety with his own; He goes to do-what I had done, Had Douglas' daughter been his son l -— ~ —'L.: — II-e~*-Lr ~rTL ~u c:J_;:; —-i;p —n ~-~ ~ lui. ~

Page  303 CANT'OS iV. THE LADY OF THE LAKE 303 XL "Nay, lovely Ellen!-dearest, nayl If aught should his retuirn delay, He only named yon holy fane As fitting place to meet again. Be sure he's safe; and for the Grame, Heawen's blessing on his gallant name! My visioned sight may yet prove true, Nor bode of ill to him or you. When did my gifted dream beguile? Think of the stranger at the isle, Andthink upon the harpings slow, That presaged this approaching woe! Sooth was my prophecy of fear; Believe it when it augurs cheer. Would we had left this dismal spot! Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot, Of such a wond'rous tale I knowDear lady, change that look of woe! My heart was wont thy grief to cheer —-' ELLEN. " Well, be it as thou wilt; I hear, But cannot stop the bursting tear." The Minstrel tried his simple art, But distant far was Ellen's heart. XIL BALLAD. ALICE BRAND. Merry it is in the good green wood, When the mavis* and merlet are singing, When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cy And the hunter's horn is ringing. "Oh Alice Brand! my native land Is lost for love of you; And we must hold by wood and wold, As outlaws wont to do. "Oh Alice!'twas all for thy locks so bright, And'twas all for thine eyes so blue, Thrush., Blackbird.

Page  304 331 ] TlE PROPHECY. That on the night of our luckless flight, Thy brother bold I slew. "Now must I teach to hew the beech, The hand that held the glaive, F or leaves to spread our lowly bed, And stakes to fence our cave. "And for vest of pall, thy fingers small, That wont on harp to stray, A cloak must shear from the slaughtered dew To keep the cold away." ",Oh Richard! if my brother died,'Twas but a fatal chance; |For darkling was the battle tried, And Fortune sped the lance. "If pall and vair no more I wear, Nor thou the crimson sheen, As warm, we'll say, is the russet grey, As gay the forest-green. "And, Richard, if our lot be hard, And lost thy native land, Still Alice has her own Richard, And he his Alice Brand." XIIL BI.LLAD —continued.'Tis merry,'tis merry, in good green wood, So blithe Lady Alice is singing; On the beech's pride, and the oak's brown side, Lord Richard's axe is ringing. Up spoke the moody Elfin King, Who won'd within the hill — Like wind in the porch of a ruined church, His voice was ghostly shrill. VWhy sounds yon stroke on beech and eak, Our moonlight circle's screen? Or who comes here to chase the deer, Beloved of our Elfin Queen? Or who may dare on wold to wear The fairy's fatal green?

Page  305 CANTO 1o. THE LADY OF THE AL,. 305 "Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie, For thou wert christened man; For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, For muttered word or ban. "Lay on him the curse of the withered heart, The curse of the sleepless eye; Till he wish and pray that his life would part, Nor yet find leave to die." xIV. BIALLAD-continued'Tis merry,'tis merry, in good green wood, Though the birds have stilled their singing; The evening blaze doth Alice raise, And Richard is faggots bringing. Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf Before Lord Richard stands, And, as he crossed and blessed himself, "I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf, "That is made with bloody bands." But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, That woman void of fear"And if there's blood upon his hand,'Tis but the blood of deer." "Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood! It cleaves unto his hand, The stain of thine own kindly blood, The blood of Ethert Brand." Then forward stepp'd she, Alice Brand, And made the holy sign"And if there's blood on Richard's hand, A spotless hand is mine. "And I conjure thee, Demon elf, By Him whom Demons fear, To show us whence thou-art thyself? And what thine errand here?" XV. BALLAD-continued. a"'is merry,'tis merry, in Fairy-land, When fairy birds are singing,

Page  306 386 THE PROPHECY CANTro I'. When the court doth ride by their monarch's side, With bit and bridle ringing: "And gaily shines the Fairy-land-. But all is glistening show, Like the idle gleam that December's. bea Can dart on ice and snow. And fading, like that varied gleam, Is our inconstant shape, Who now like knight and lady seem, And now like dwarf and ape. "It was between the night and day, When the Fairy King has, power, That I sank down in a sinful fray, And,'twixt life and death, was snatched a. ay To the joyless Elfin bower. "But wist I of a woman bold, Who thrice my brow durst sign, I might regain my mortal mould'As fair a form as thine." She crossed him once-she crossed him t w i.c-. That lady was so brave; The fouler grew his goblin hue, The darker grew the cave. She crossed him thrice, that lady bold: He rose beneath her hand The fairest knight on Sdottish mould, Her brother, Ethert Brand! Merry it is in the good green wood, When the mavis and merle are singing, But merrier were they in Dunfermline grey, When all the bells were ringing. XVL. Just as the minstrel sounds were staid, A stranger climbed the steepy glade: His martial step, his stately mien, His hunting suit of Lincoln green, His eagle glance, remembrance claimsTis Snowdoun's Knight-'tis James Fitz-James!

Page  307 lleln beheld as in a dream, Then starting, scarce suppressed a scream: "On stranger! in such hour of fear, What evil hap has brought thee heref " "An evil hap how can it be, That bids me look again on thee? By promise bound, my former guide Met me betimes this morning tide, And marshall'd, over bank and bourn, The happy path of my return." "The happy pathi —what! said he. nougih Of war, of battle to be fought, Of guarded pass? "-" No, by my faithl Nor saw I aught could augur scathe." "Oh haste thee, Allan, to the kern -Yonder his tartans I discern; Learn thou his purpose, and conjure That he will guide the stranger surel — What prompted thee, unhappy man? The meanest serf in Roderick's clan Had not been bribed by love or fear, Unknown to him, to guide thee here.' XVIL "Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, Since it is worthy care from thee; Yet life I hold but idle breath, When love or honour's weighed with death. Then let me profit by my chance, And speak my purpose bold at once. I come to bear thee from a wild, Where ne'er before such blossom smiledt By this soft hand to lead theefar From frantic scenes of feud and wa, Near Bochastle my horses wait; They bear us soon to Stirling gate. I'll place thee in a lovely bower, I'll guard thee like a tender flower-' "Oh! hush, Sir Knight! twere female at' To say I do not read thy heart; Too much, before, my selfish ear Was idly soothed my praise to hear. That fatal bait hath lured thee back1 In deathfuil hour, o'er dangerous t'lacki And how, oh how, can I atone The wreck my vanity brought on!

Page  308 One way remains-I'll tell him allYeststruggling bosom, forth it shalll Thou, whose light folly bears the blames. Buy thine own pardon with thy shamei But first-my father is a man Outlawed and exiled, under ban; The price of blood is on his head, With me'twere infamy to wed. Still wouldst thou speak?-then hear the truth Fitz-James, there is a noble youthIf yet he is! -exposed for me And mine to dread extremityThou hast the secret of my heart;, Forgive, be generous, and departV" IVIEL Fitz-Jamres knew every wily train A lady's fickle heart to gain, But here he knew and felt them vain. There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, To give her steadfast speech the lie; In maiden confidence she stood, Though mantled in her cheek the blood, And told her love with such a sigh Of deep and hopeless agony, As death had sealed her Maleolm's doomv, And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. Hope vanished from Fitz-Jamesgs eye, But not with hope fled sympathy. He proffered to attend her side, As brother would a sister guide. "Oh! little knowest thou Roderick's hcartl Safer for both we go apart. Oh haste thee, and from Allan learn, If thou may'st trust yon wily kern." With hand upon his forehead laid, The conflict of his mind to shade, A parting step or two he made; Then, as some thought had crossed his brain, He paused, and turned, and came again. XIX. "Hear, lady, yet, a parting word!I; chanced in fight that my poor sworrd.

Page  309 tNITO IV. THE LADY OF THE EAR. Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. This ring the grateful Monarch gave, And bade, when I had boon to crave, To bring it back,.and boldly claim iThe recompense that I would name. Ellen, I am no courtly lord, But one who lives by lance and sword, iWhose castle is his helm and shield, His lordship, the embattled field. What from -a prince can I demand,.Who neither reck of state nor land? Ellen,,thy hand-the ring is thine; Each guard and usher knows the sign.'Seek thou the king without delay; This signet shall secure thy way; And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, As ransom of his pledge to me." le placed the golden circlet on, raused-kissed her hand-and then was g)ne, The aged Minstrel stood aghast, So hastily Fitz-James shot past. hIe joined his guide, and wending down The ridges of the mountain brpwn, Across the stream they took their way, That joins Loch-Katrine to Achray. XX. All in the Trosachs' glen was still, Noontide was sleeping on the hill: Sudden his guide whooped loud and higbh "Murdoch! was that a signal cry?" He stammered forth-"I shout to scare.I Yon raven from his dainty fare." He looked —he knew the raven's prey, His own brave steed: —"Ahl gallant greyl For thee-for me perchance-'twere well ii q7',We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. Murdoch, move first-but silently; Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die. Jealous and sullen on they fared, Each silent, each upon his guard. XXL INow wound the path its dizzy ledg'~~~~~~xudi Is L I

Page  310 MB. OP.HEr. CRANTO NW When lot a wasted female form, Blighted by wrath of sun and stormp In tattered weeds and wild array, Stood on a cliff beside the way, And glancing round her restless eye Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, Seemed nought to mark, yet all to spy. Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom; With gesture wild she waved a plume Of feathers, which the eagles fling To crag and liff from dusky wing; Such spoils her desperate step had sought, Where scarce was footing for the goat. The tartan plaid she first descried, And shrieked, till all the rocks replied; As loud she laughed when near they drew,:For then the lowland garb she knew; And then her hands she wildly wrung, And then she wept, and then she sung. She sung — the voice, in better time, Perchance to harp or lute might chimeBut now, though strained and roughened;; sl ung. wildly. sweet to dale and hill "They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, They say my brain is warped and wrungI cannot sleep on highland brae, I cannot pray in highland tongue. But were I now where Allan glides, Or heard my native Devan's tides so sweetly would I. rest and pray That heaven would close my wintery dayt "'Twas thus-my hair they bade me brai, They bade me to the church repair; It was my bridal morn, they said, And my true love would meet me there iBut woe betide the cruel guile, That drowned in blood the morning smiM And woe betide the fairy dream! I only wakedto sob and scream.."

Page  311 OATO IV. HE LADY OP THE LA"E. 311 XXTL "Who is this maid? what means her lay? She hovers o'er the hollow way, And flutters wide her mantle grey, As the lone heron spreads his wing, By twilight, o'er a haunted spring." "'Tis Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said, "A crazed and captive lowland maid, Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, When Roderick forayed Devan-side. The gay bridegroom resistance made, And felt our Chief's unconquered blade. I marvel she is now at large, But oft she'scapes from Maudlin's charge; Hence, brain-sick fool!" He raised his bow: "Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow, rll pitchtheefrom the cliff as far As ever peasant pitched a bar." "Thanks, champion, thanks!" the Maniac cried, And pressed her to Fitz-James's side. "See the grey pennons I prepare, To seek my true-love through the airl I will not lend that savage groom, To break his fall, one downy plume!l No — deep amid disjointed stones, The wolves shall batten on his bones, And then shall his detested plaid, By bush and briar in mid-air staid, Wave forth a banner fair and free, Meet signal for their revelry." XXIV. "Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still!" "Ohl thou look'st kindly, and I will Mine eye has dried and wasted been, But still it loves the Lincoln green; And, though mine ear is all unstrung, Still, still it loves the lowland tongue. For oh my sweet William was forester tirne, He stole poor Blanche's heart away! His coat it was all of the greenwood line, And so blithely he trilled the lowland lLy! —--

Page  312 31 ~THaE PRtOPHECIr. It was not that I meant to tellBut thou art wise, and guessest well" Then, in a low and broken tone, And hurried note, the song went on. Still on the Clansman, fearfully, She fixed her apprehensive eye; Then turned it on the Knight, and then Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. xxV. "The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set, Ever sing merrily, merrily; The bows they bend, and the knives they iiet — Hunters live so cheerily, "It was a stag, a stag of ten,* Bearing his branches sturdily; He came stately down the glen, Ever sing hardily, hardily. "It was there he met with a wounded do, She was bleeding deathfully; She warned him of the toils below, Oh so faithfully, faithfully! "He had an eye, and he could heed, Ever sing warily, warily; He had a foot, and he could speed — Hunters watch so narrowly." Fitz-James's mind was passion-toss'd, NWhen Ellen's hints and fears were lost; But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, And Blanche's song conviction brought. Not like a stag that spies the snare, But lion of the hunt aware, lie waved at once his blade on high, "Disclose thy trcachery, or diel" Forth at full speed the Clansman flew, But in his race his bow he drew: *Having ten branches on his antles I

Page  313 UA~NTO IV. TH LADY OF THE LAIoE'The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest, And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast. Murdoch of Alpinel prove thy speed, For ne'er had Alpine's son such need! TWith heart of fire. and foot of wind, The fierce avenger is behind! Fate judges of the rapid strife — The forfeit, death-the prize is life! Thy kindred ambush lies before, Close couched upon the heathery moor Them couldst thou reach-it may not be — Thine ambushed kin thon ne'er shalt se, The fiery Saxon gains on thee! Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, As lightning strikes the pine to dust; With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain, Ere he can win his blade again, Bent o'er the fall'n, with falcon eye, He grimly smiled to see him die; Then slower wended back his way Where the poor maiden bleeding lay, She sate beneath the birchen tree, Her elbow resting on her knee; She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, And gazed on it, and feebly laughed; Her wreath of broom and feathers grey, Daggled with blood, beside her lay. The Knight to stanch the life-stream tried — "Stranger, it is in vain I" she cried; "This hour of death has given me more Of reason's power than years beforel For, as these ebbing veins decay, My frenzied visions fade away. A helpless injured wretch I die, And something tells me in thine eye, That thou wert mine avenger born. Seest thou this tress? Oh! still I've worn This little tress of yellow hair, Through-danger, frenzy, and despair! It once was bright and clear as thine, But blood and tears have dimmed its shine, I will not tell thee when'twas shred, Nor from what guiltless victim's head28*

Page  314 814 THE PRPHECY. My brain would turn!-but it shall wave Like plumage on thy helmet brave, Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, And thou wilt bring it me again. I waver still!-Oh God! more bright Let Reason beam her parting light!Oh! by thy knighthood's honoured sign, And for thy life preserved by mine, When thou shalt see a darksome man, Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's clan, With tartans broad and shadowy plume, And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong!They watch for thee by pass and fellAvoid the path-Oh God!-farewelll" A kindly heart had brave Fitz-Jame, Fast poured his eye at pity's claims; And now, with mingled grief and ire, He saw the murdered maid expire. "God, in my need, be my relief, As I wreak this on yonder Chiefl"A lock from Blanche's tresses fair lie blended with her bridegroom's hair; The mingled braid in blood he dyed, And placed it on his bonnet side: "By Him whose word is truthl I swear No other favour will I wear, Till this sad token I embrue In the best blood of Roderick Dhu! But harkl what means yon faint halloo? The chase is up -but they shall know, The stag at bay's a dangerous foe." Barred from the known but guarded way, Througheopse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray, And oft must change his desperate track, By stream and precipice turned back. Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length, From lack of food and loss of strength, He couch'd him in a thicket hoar, And thought his toils and perils o'er:-'Of all my rash adventures past, This frantic feat will prove the lasti

Page  315 .'M LADoY OF Trw GLAKus. Who e'er so mad but might have guess'd, That all this highland hornet's nest Would muster up in swarms so soon As e'er they heard of bands at Doune? Like bloodhounds now they search me ousHark, to the whistle and the shoutl If farther through the wilds I go, I only fall upon the foe; 1'll couch me heretill evening grey, Then darkling try my dangerous way. XX. The shades of eve come slowly down, The woods are wrapped in deeper brown, The owl awakens from her dell, The fox is heard upon the fell; Enough remains of glimmering light To guide the wanderer's steps aright, Yet not enough from far to show His figure to the watchful foe, With cautious step, and ear awake, He climbs the crag and threads the brake; And not the summer solstice, there, Temper'd the midnight mountain air, But every breeze that swept the wold, Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. In dread, in danger, and alone, Famished and chilled, through ways unknown, Tangled and steep, he journey'd on; Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, A watch-fire close before him burned. XXX Beside its embers red and clear, Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer; And up he sprang with sword in hand — "Thy name and purpose! Saxon, standl' "A stranger." "What dost thou require? "Rest and a guide, and food and fire. My life's beset, my path is lost, The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.' "Art thou a friend to Roderick!" "N,'0x "Thou darest not call thyself a foe?" "i dare! to him and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand.'

Page  316 THE PROPHECY. CA NTO "Bold wordsl —but, though the beast of gamne The privilege of chase may claim, Though space and law the stag we lend, Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, Who ever reck'd, where, how, or when, The prowling fox was trapped or slain? Thus, treacherous scouts-yet sure they lie, Who say thou cam'st a secret spyl" "They do, by Heaven! Come Roderick DhU And of his clan the boldest two, And let me but till morning rest, I write the falsehood on their crest." 6"If by the blaze I mark aright, Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight." "' Then, by these tokens may'st thou know,;ach proud oppressor's mortal foe." "Enough, enough; sit down and share A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." XXXL He gave him of his highland cheer, The hardened flesh of mountain deer; Dry fuel on the fire he laid, And bade the Saxon share his plaid. He tended him like welcome guest, Then thus his further speech addresseds "Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu A clansman born, a kinsman true; Each word agaiqst his honour spoke, Demands of me avenging stroke; Yet more-upon thy fate,'tis said, A mighty augury is laid. It rests with me to wind my horn, Thou art with numbers overborne; It rests with me, here, brand to brand, Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand: But nor for clan nor kindred's cause, Will I depart from honour's laws: To assail a wearied man were shame, A stranger is a holy name; Guidance and rest, and food and fire, In vain he never must require. Then rest thee here till dawn of day; Myself will'guide thee on the way, O'er stock and stone, through watch and wTard. Till past clan-Alpine's outmost gularil,

Page  317 CANTO. V THE LADY OF THE LA, m As far as Coilantogle's fordFrom thence thy warrant is thy sword,' "I take thy courtesy, by Heaven, As freely as'tis nobly given!" "Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry Sings us the lake's wild lullaby." With that he shook the gathered heath, And spread3his plaid upon the wreath; And the brave foemen, side by side, Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, And slept until the dawning beam Purpled the mountain and the stream. CANTO FIFTLH THE COMBAT, FAiR as the earliest beam of eastern light, When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, And lights the fearful path on mountain side; ]Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright stat, Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the bow of war. IL That early beam, so fair and sheen, Was twinkling through the hazel screen When, rousing at its glimmer red, The warriors left their lowly bed, Looked out upon the dappled sky, Muttered their soldier matins by,

Page  318 And then awaked their fire, to steal, As short and rude, their soldier meal. That o'er, the Gael around him threw |His graceful plaid of varied hue, And, true to promise, led the way, By thicket green and mountain grey. A wildering path! they winded now Along the precipice's brow, Commanding the rich scenes beneath, The windings of the Forth and Teit4, And all the vales between that lie, Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky; Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance Gained not the length of horseman's lance'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain Assistance from the hand to gain; So tangled oft, that, bursting through, Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew —' That diamond dew, so pure and clear, It rivals all but Beauty's tear! IIL At length they came where, stern and stee The hill sinks down upon the deep. Here Vennachar in silver flows, There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose; dEver the hollow path twined on, Beneath steep bank and threatening stobne An hundred men might hold the post With hardihood against a host, The rugged mountain's scanty cloak Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, With shingles bare, and cliffs between, And patches bright of bracken green,! And heather black, that waved so high, It held the copse in rivalry, But where the lake slept deep and still, Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill And oft both path and hill were torn, Where wintry torrent down had bornes And heaped upon the cumbered landi: Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and samin So toilsome was the road to trace, The guide, abating of his pace, I_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _~ ~ ~ ~ ~t._t _ J

Page  319 CANTo AV. HE LADT C0 TAR LA 8 Led slowly through the pass's jaws, And asked Fitz-James, by what strange catue He sought these wilds, traversed by few Without a pass from Roderick Dhu? IVt. "Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried, Hangs in my belt, and by my side; Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said, "I dreamed not now to claim its aid. When here, but three days since, I came, Bewildered in pursuit of game, All seemed as peaceful and as still, As the mist slumbering on yonu hill; Thy dangerous chief was then afar, Nor soon expected back from war. Thus said, at least, my mountain guide, Though deep, perchance, the villain lied*. "Yet why a second venture try?" "A warrior thou, and ask me why? Moves our free coursehby such fixed cause, As gives the poor mechanic laws? Enough, I sought to drive away The lazy hours of peaceful day; Slight cause will then suffice to guide A knight's free footsteps far and wide% A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed, The merry glance of mountain maids Or, if a path be dangerous known, The danger's self is lure alone." V. "Thy secret keep, I urge thee not; Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, Say, heard ye nought of lowland war, Against Clan-Alpine raised by Mar?" "No, by my word; of bands prepared To guard King James's sports I heard; Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear This muster.of the mountaineer, Their pennons will abroad be flung, Which else in Doune had peaceful hung" "Free be they flung!-for we were loth Their silken folds should feast the moth. Free be they fling! —as free shall wave Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave.

Page  320 320 THE COMBAT.. 7ANTO w. But, stranger, peaceful since you came, Bewildered in the mountain game, Whence the bold boast by which you show Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe? ""Warrior, but yester-morn I knew Nought of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, Save as an outlaw'd desperate man, The chief of a rebellious clan, Who, in the Regent's court and sight, With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight; Yet this alone might from his part Sever each true and loyal heart." VL Wrothful at such arraignment foul, Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl A space he paused, then sternly said"And heard'st thou why he drew his blade? Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe? What reck'd the Chieftain, if he stood On highland heath or Holy-Rood? He rights such wrong where it is given, If it were in the court of Heaven." "Still was it outrage; —yet,'tis true, Not then claimed sovereignty his due; WVhile Albany, with feeble hand, Held borrowed truncheon of commiand. The young king, mew'd in Stirling to\; c>, Was stranger to respect and power. But then, thy Chieftain's robber life!Winning mean prey by causeless strifb, Wrenching from ruin'd lowland swain His herds and harvest reared in vainMethinks a soul like thine should sc"rnl The spoils from such foul foray borne." VIL. The Gael beheld him grim the while, And answered with disdainful smile-n "Saxon, from yonder mountain higi, I marked thee send delightedeye, Far to the south and east, where lay, Extended in succession gay,

Page  321 CANTO V. Tvlb LADY OF T-I11 LA]I;Em Deep waving fields and pastures green, With gentle slopes and groves between: - These fertile plains, that softened vale, Were once the birthright of the Gael;The stranger came with iron hand, And from our fathers reft the land. Where dwell we now? See, rudely swell Crag "over crag, and fell o'er fell. Ask we this savage.hill we tread, iK For fattened steer or household bread; Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, And well the mountain might reply-.'To you, as to your sires of yore, Belong the target and claymore: I give you shelter in my breast, Your own good blades must win the rest.' Pent in this fortress of the North, Think'st thou we will not sally forth, To spoil the spoiler as we may, And from the robber rend the prey? Ay, by my soul!-While on yon plain The Saxon rears one shock of grain; While, of ten thoufsand herds, there strays But one along yon river's mazeThe Gael, of plain and river heir, Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. Where live the mountain chiefs who hold, That plundering lowland field and fold Is ought but retribution true? Seek other cause'gainst Roderick Dhu." VIIL Answered Fitz-James-" And, if I sought, Think'st thou no other could be brought? What deem ye of my path waylaid, My life given o'er to ambuscade?" "As of a meed to rashness due: IHadst thou sent warning fair and trueI seek my hound, or falcon strayed, I seek, good faith, a Highland maid — IFree hadst thou been to come and go; But secret path marks secret foe. Nor yet, for this, even as a spy, HIadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die, Save to fulfil an augury." "Well, let it pass; nor will I now j -------- ---- — ~~~~~~~~~oi

Page  322 THE COMBAT. CA.N'IO,. Fresh cause of enmity avow, To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. Enough, I am by promise tied To match me with this man of pride; Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen In peace; but when I come agen, I come with banner, brand and bow, As leader seeks his mortal foe. For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower, Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, As I, until before me stand This rebel Chieftain and his band." IX "Have then thy wish!" —he whistled slrilU And he was answered from the hill; Wild as the scream of the curlew, From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath, arose'Bonnets, and spears, and bended bows; On right, on left, above, below, Sprang up at once the lurking foe; From shingles grey their lances start, The bracken-bush sends forth the dart, The rushes and the willow-wand Are bristling into axe and brand, And every tuft of broom gives life To plai-ded warrior armed for strife.'That whistle garrisoned the glen At once with full five hundred men, As if the yawning hill to heaven A subterranean host had given. Watching their leader's beck and will, All silent there they stood and still Like the loose crags whose threatening ma Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, As if an infant's touch could urge Their headlong passage down the verge, With step and weapon forward flung, Upon the mountain-side they hung. The mountaineer cast glance of pride Along Benledi's living side, Then fixed his eye and sable brow Full on Fitz-James —" How say'st thou now? These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true; And Saxon-I am Roderick Dhul"

Page  323 | 1 Ofs tA vr THEI LADY-'( TtFE LAl 323T Fitz-James was'lbrave:-though to'his heart The life-blood thrilled with sudden start, I e mann'd himself with dauntless air, Returned the Chief his haughty stare, His back against a rock he bore, And firmly placed his foot before;"Come one, come all I this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as II" Sir Roderick marked-and in his eyes Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel. Short space he stood-then waved his hands D own -sank the disappearing band; Each warrior vanished where he stood, In broom or bracken, heath or wood; Sank brand and spear and bended bow, In osiers pale and copses low: It seemed as if their mother Earth Had swallowed up her warlike birth.'The wind's last breath had tossed in air Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair-'The next but swept a lone hill-side,'Where heath and fern were waving wide; The sun's last glance was glinted back, From spear and glaive, from targe and jackThe next, all unreflected, shone On bracken green and cold grey stone. XL Fitz-James looked round-yet scarce believes The witness that his sight received; Such apparition well might seem *Delusion of a dreadful dream. Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, And to his look the Chief replied, "Fear nought-nay, that I need not sayBut-doubt not aught from mine array. Thou art my guest;-I pledged my word As far as Coilantogle ford:!Nor would I call a clansman's brand For aid against one valiant hand, Though on our strife lay every vale Rent by the Saxon firom the Gael

Page  324 s-24 E COMBAT c.-' VN So move we on; —I only meant To show the reed on which you leant, Deeming this path you might pursue Without a pass from Roderick Dihu.' They moved:-I said Fitz-James was brave As ever knight that belted glaive; Yet dare not say, that now his blood Kept on its wont and tempered flood, As, following Roderick's stride, he drew [ That seeming lonesome pathway through Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife With lances, that to take his life Waited but signal from a guide, So late dishonoured and defied, Ever, by stealth, his eye sought rounnT The vanished guardians of the ground, And still fiom copse and heather deep, Fancy saw spear and broad-sword peep, And in the plover's shrilly strain, The signal whistle heard again. The pass was left; for then they wind Along a wide and level green, l Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, Nor rush, nor bush of broom was near I To hide a bonnet or a spear. The Chief in silence strode before, And reached that torrent's sounding shlcr- Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, From Vennachar in silver breaks, Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mine3 On Bochastle the mouldering lines, Where Rome, the Empress of the world, Of yore her eagle wings unfurl'd. And here his course the Chieftainr staid. Threw down his target and his plail, And to the lowland warrior said;:"Bold Saxon! to his promise just, Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. This murderous chief, this ruthless man This head of a rebellious clan, Rath led thee safe, through watch and war4 Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. Now, man to man, and steel to steel, A chieftain's vengeance thou, shalt feel

Page  325 |V N VtNS'O 7V. THE LADY OF THE, here, all vantageless I stand, Armed like thyself, with single brand I'or this is Coilantogle ford, And thou must keep thee with -s d." XIII. The Saxon paused:-"I ne'er delayed,.WVhen foeman bade me draw my blade; Nay more, brave Chief, I voW'd thy death; Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, And my deep debt for life preserved,.A better meed have well deserved:Can nought but blood our feud atone? Are there no means? "-"No, Stranger, non, i And hear-to fire thy flagging zeal — The Saxon cause rests on thy steel; For thus spoke Fate by prophet bred Between the living and-the dead:'Vho spills the foremost foemari's life,{ H is party.conquers in the strife."' Then, by my word," the Saxon said, 4" The riddle is already read.'Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff-.o There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.'Thus Fate has solved her prophecy, Then yield to Fate, and not to me.'To James, at Stirling, let us go,;When, if thou wilt be still his foe, Or if the King shall not agree To grant thee grace and favour free, I plight mine honour, oath, and word, Ti hat, to thy native strengths restored,'With each advantage shalt thou stand, That aids thee now to -guard thy land."' Dark lightning Hashed from Roderick's eye — "Soars thy presumption, then, so high,'Because a wretched kern ye slew, ] lomage to name to Roderick Dhu? lie yields not, he, to man nor Fatel T hou add'st but fuel to my hatei'y clansman's blood demands revenge. Not yet prepared? By heaven, I change M i thought, and hold thy valour light. that of some vain carpet-knight,

Page  326 32 6 TE COMBA CAN.Pi, Who ill deserved my courteous earm And whose best boast is but to wear A braid of his fair lady's hair." "I thank thee, Roderick, for the word-! It nerves my heart, it steels my swordi; For I have sworn this braid to stain In the best blood that warms thy vein, Now, truce, farewell! and ruth, begone-.. Yet think not that by thee alone, Proud Chief I can courtesy be shown; Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn4 Start at my whistle clansmen stern, Of this small horn one feeble blast Would fearful odds againstthee cast. -But fear not-doubt not-which thou wilt —. We try this quarrel hilt to hilt." Then each at once his falchion drew, Each on the ground his scabbard threw, Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain, As what they ne'er might see again; Then foot, and point, and eye opposed, In dubious strife they darkly closed. X. H 11l fared it then with Roderick Dhn, That on the field his targe he threw, Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hidei Had death so often dashed aside;;For, trained abroad his arms to wield, Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield He practised every pass and ward, To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard; While less expert, though stronger far, The Gael maintained unequal war. Three times in closing strife they stood, And thrice the Saxon sword drank blood — t No stinted draught, no scanty tide, The gushing flood the tartans dyed. Pierce Roderick felt the fatal drain, And showered his blows like wintry rain m And, as firm rock, a castle-roof, Against the winter shower is proof The foe, invulnerable still, ]Foiled his wild rage by steady skills Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand!Forced Roderick's weapon from his, hand

Page  327 tCAnO V. THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 327~ And, backwardsborneupon the lea, Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee XVI. "Now, yield thee, or, by Him who mafe The world, thy heart's blood dyes my biade.! "Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! Let recreant yield who fears to die.t Like adder darting firom his coil, Like wolf that dashes through the toil, Like mountain-cat who guards her young, Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung, Received, but reclk'd not of a wound, And locked his arms his foeman round. Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! No maiden's hand is round thee thrown! That desperate grasp thy frame might feel Through bars of brass and triple steel! They tug, they strain!-down, down, The Gael above, lFitz-James below! The Chieftain's gripe his throat compress'd, His knee was planted in his breast; His clotted locks he backward threw, Across his brow his hand he drew, From blood and mist to clear his sight, Then gleam'd aloft his dagger bright! But hate and fury ill supplied The stream of life's exhausted tide, And all too late the advantage came, To turn the odds of deadly game; For, while the dagger gleamed on highn. Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. Down came the blow! but in the heath The erring blade found bloodless sheath. The struggling foe may now unclasp The fainting Chiet's relaxing grasp; Unwounded from the dreadful close, But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. XVIL He faltered thanks to Heaven for life, Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife; Next on his foe his look he cast, Whose every gasp appeared his last$

Page  328 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CA ri c t In Roderick's gore he dipp'd the braid, "Poor BlancheI thy wrongs are dearly paid; Yet with thy foe must die, or live, The praise that Faith and Valour give." With that he blew a bugle-note, Undid the collar from his throat, Unbonneted, and by the wave bate down his brow and hands to lave. Then faint afar are heard the feet Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet; The sounds increase, and now are seen Four mounted squires in Lincoln green; Two who bear lance, and two who lead, By loosened rein, a saddled steed; Each onward held his headlong course, And by Fitz-James rein'd up his horse, With wonder viewed the bloody spot"Exclaim not, gallants! question not. You, Herbert and Luffness, alight, And bind the wounds of yonder knight; Let the grey palfrey bear his weight,' We destined for a fairer freight, And bring him on to Stirling straight; I will before at better speed, To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. The sun rides high; I must be boune To see the archer-game at noon; But lightly Bayard clears the lea. 1De Vaux and Herries, follow mel XVIIL And glancing eye, and quivering ear, As if he loved his lord to hear. No foot Fitz-James in stirrup staid, No grasp upon the saddle laid, But wreathed his left hand in the mane, And lightly bounded from the plain, Turned on the horse his armed heel, And stirred his courage with the steel Bounded the fiery steed in air, The rider sate erect and fair, Then, like a bolt, from steel cross-bow F'orth launched, along the plain they go, Thev dashed that rapid torrent through, Anld up Carhonie's hill they flew;

Page  329 CANTDO V. THE COMBAT. 829 Still at the gallop pricked the Knight, HIis merry-men followed as they.might. Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride, And in the race they mock thy tide; Tonry and Lendrick now are past, And Deanstown lies behind them cast? They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, They sink in distant woodland soon; Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre; They mark just glance and disappear The lofty brow of ancient Keir; They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, DarkForth! amid thy sluggish tides, And on the opposing shore take ground, With plash, with scramble, and with bound. Right hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-forth, A.nd soon the bulwark of the North, Grey Stirling, with her towers and town, Upon their fleet career looked down, X'IAs up the flinty path they strained, Sudden his steed the leader reined; A signal to his squire he flung, Who instant to his stirrup sprung:|" Seest thou, De Vaux, that woodsman grey, Who town-ward holds the rocky way, Of stature tall and poor array? IMark'st thou the firm, yet active stride, With which he scales the mountain side? iKnow'st thou from whence he comes, or whom?' "No, by my word;-a burly groom lie seems, who in the field or chase A Baron's train would nobly grace." "Out, out, De Vaux! can fear supply And jealousy, no sharper eye? Afar, ere to the hill he drew, That stately form and step I knew; Like form in Scotland is not seen, Treads not such step on Scottish green.'Tis James of Douglas, by saint Serle! The uncle of the banished Earl Away, away, to court. to show The near approach of dreaded foe: The king must stand upon his guard; Douglas and he must meet prepared." ______ --

Page  330 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. vtaTO Then right hand wheeled their steeds, and straight They won the castle's postern gate. XX. The Douglas, who had bent his way From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey grey, Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf, Held sad communion with himself: "Yes! all is true my fears could frame; A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, And fiery Roderick soon will feel The vengeance of the royal steel I, only I, can ward their fate — God grant. the ransom come not late! The Abbesshath her promise gMiven, My child shall be the bride of heaven;Be pardoned one repining tear! For He who gave her, knows how dear, How excellent-but that is by, And now my business is to die. Ye towers! within whose circuit dread A Douglas by his sovereign bled, And thou, oh sad and fatal moundl That oft has heard the death-axe sound, As on the noblest of the land Fell the stern headsman's bloody han -- The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb Prepare-for Douglas seeks his doom! But hark! what' blithe and jolly peal Makes the Franciscan steeple reel? And see! upon the crowded street, In motley groups what masquers meet!! Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, And merry morrice-dancers come. I guess, by all this quaint array, The burghers hold their sports to-day. James will be there-he loves such show, Where the good yeoman bends his bow, And the tough wrestler foils his foe, As well as where, in proud career, The high-born tilter shivers spear. I'll follow to the Castle-park, And play my prize-King James shall mar)k If age has tamed these sinews stark, Whose force so oft, in happier, days, His boyish wonder loved to praise.'

Page  331 DAN( ro T. wiE COM.R. X XL The Castle gates were open flung, The quivering draw-bridge rocked and rung, And echoed loud the flinty street Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, As slowly down the deep descent Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, While all along the crowded way Was jubilee and loud huzza. And ever James was bending low, To his white jennet's saddle bow, Doffing his cap to city dame, Who smiled and blushed for pride and shanae And well the simperer might be vain — He chose the fairest of the train. Gravely he greets each city sire, Commends each pageant's quaint attire, Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, And smiles and nods upon the crowd, Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, "Long live the Commons' King, King Janlest" Behind the King thronged peer and knight, And noble dame and damsel bright, Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay Of the steep street and crowded way., But in the train you might discern Dark lowering brow and visage stern: There nobles mourned their pride restrainec And the mean burghers' joys disdained; And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, Were each from home a banished man, There thought upon their own grey tower, Their waving woods, their feudal power, And deemed themselves a shameful part. Of pageant, which they cursed in heart. XX", Now in the Castle-park, drew out Their chequered bands the joyous rout. There morricers, with bell at heel, And blade in hand, their mazes wheel. But chief, beside the butts, there stand Bold Robin Hood and all his bandFriar Tuck with quarter-staff and cowl Old. Scathelocke with his surly scowl, Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone, Scualet, and Match, and Little Johla

Page  332 332 THE LADY OF THE LAIE. CANeTO V. Their bugles challenge all that will, In archery to prove their skill The Donglas bent a bow of might — His first shaft centered in the white, And when in turn he shot again, His second split the first in twain. From the King's hand must Douglas take A silver dart, the archers' stake; Fondly he watched, with watery eye, Some answering glance of sympathy — No kind emotion made reply! Indifferent as to archer wight, The monarch gave the arrow bright. XXIIL Now, clear the ring! for, hand to hand, The manly wrestlers take their stand. Two o'er the rest superior rose, And proud demanded mightier foes, Nor called in vain; for Douglas came. -For life, is Hugh of Larbert lame; Scarce better John of Alloa's fare, Whom senseless home his comrades bear, Prize of the wrestling match, the King To Douglas gave a golden ring, While coldly glanced his eye of blue, As frozen drop of winter dew. Douglas would speak, but in his breast His struggling soul his words suppress'd. Indignant then he turned him where Their arms the brawny yeoman bare, To hurl the massive bar in air. WVhen each his utmost strength had shown, The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone From its deep bed, then heaved it high, And sent the fragment through the sky, A rood beyond the farthest mark; And still in Stirling's royal park, The grey-haired sires who know the past, To strangers point the Douglas-cast, And moralize on the decay Of Scottish strength in modern day. XXIV. The vale with loud applauses rang, Te Ladies' Rock sent back the clang;

Page  333 cANTO V. TE COOfBATS j3 The King, with look unmoved, bestowed A purse well filled with pieces broad. Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, And threw the gold among the crowd, Who nowj with anxious wonder, scan, And sharper glance, the dark grey man;' Till whispers rose among the throng, That heart so free, and hand so strong, Must to the Douglas' blood belong: The old men mark'd, and shook the heal, To see his hair with'silver spread, And winked aside, and told each son Of feats upon the English done, Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand Was exiled from his native land. The women praised his stately form, Though wreck'd by many a winter's storm, The youth, with awe and wonder, saw His strength surpassing Nature's law. Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, Till murmurs rose to clamours loud. But not a glance from that proud ring Of peers who circled round the King, With Douglas held communion kind, Or called the banished man to mind; No, not from those who, at the chase, Once held his side the honoured place, Begirt his board, and, in the field, Found safety underneath his shield; For he,. whom royal eyes disown, When was his form to courtiers known! The monarch saw the gambols flag, And bade let loose a gallant stag, Whose pride, the holiday to crown, Two favourite grey-hounds should pull dowp, That venison free, and Bourdeaux wine, Might serve the archery to dine. But Lufra-whom from Douglas' side Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide — The fleetest hound in all the North, Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. She left the royal hounds mid-way, And, dashing on the antler'd prey, Sank her sharp muzzle in his flank, And deen the flowing life-blood dankS. L.._~ -- - - - - - -— ~- ~ —; -- jr~-L~ -i~ — i~'(-ii - - * 80 1LLLL —iii. -— i~~~~l l-i~_-._ _._ i~.L —^= —— ~~~~ —-r

Page  334 TI T-ADT OF THE LAXn. UANTO The Xing's stout huntsman saw the sport By strange intruder broken short, Came up, and, with his leash unbound, In anger struck the noble hound.'The Douglas had endured, that morn, The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, And last, and worst to spirit proud Had borne the pity of the crowd; But Lufra had been fondly bred, To share his board, to watch his bed, And oft would Ellen, Lufra's neck, In maiden glee, with garlands deck;'They were such playmates, that with namt'Of Lufra, Ellen's image came. His stifled wrath is brimming high, In darkened brow and flashing eye; As waves before the bark divide, The crowd gave way before his strides Needs but a buffet and no more, The groom lies senseless in his gore. Such blow no other hand could deal, Though gauntleted, in glove of steeL Then clamoured loud the royal train, And brandished swords and staves amaian But stern the Baron's warning-" Back! Back on your lives, ye menial pack! Beware the Douglas. Yes! behold, King James, the Douglas, doomed of old, And vainly sought for near and far, A victim to atone the war, A willing victim, now attends, Nor craves thy grace but for his friends" "Thus is my clemency repaid? Presumptuous Lordl" the monarch said; "Of thy mis-proud ambitious clan, Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, The only man, in whom a foe My womlan-mercy would not know: But shall a Monarch's presence brook Injurious blow, and haughty look? WVhat ho! the Captain of our Guard'! Give the offender fitting ward. Break off the sports!"-for tumult rose, And yeomen'gan to bend their bowsa

Page  335 (t~Y#so V. THE COMBAT. "Break off the sports!" he said, and frowned. "And bid our horsemen clear the ground." Then uproar wild and misarray Marr'd the fair form of festal day. The horsemen pricked among the crowd, Repelled 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 their rear in thunder pour The rabble with disordered roar. With grief the noble Douglas saw The commons rise against the lawAnd 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 with these misguided men.XXVI[L lHear, gentle friends! ere yet, for me) Ye break the bands of fealty. AMy 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, That, for mean vengeance on a foe, Those chords of love I should unbind, Which knit my country and my kind? Oh no! Believe, in yonder tower It will 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,

Page  336 336 THE LADY OF THE LAKE CtANtO V, That patriots mourn insulted laws, And curse the Douglas for the cause, Oh let your patience ward such ill, And keep your right to love me stilll" XXIX. The crowd's wild futry sunk again In tears, as tempests melt in rain. With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed iFor blessings on his generous head, Who for his country felt alone, Who prized her blood beyond his own. Old men, upon the verge of life, Blessed him who staid 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, resigned his honoured charge. I XXX The offended Monarch rode apart, With bitter thought and swelling heart, And would not now vouchsafe again Through Stirling streets to lead his train. " Oh Lennox, who would wish to rule This changeling crowd, this common fbcl Hear'st thou," he said, " the loud accdiimI With which they shout the Douglas'tnanme? With like acclaim, the vulgar throat Strained for King James their morning noto3 With like acclaim they hailed the day When first I broke the Douglas' sway: And like acclaim would Douglas grleL, 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 iFrenzy's fevered blood., I I

Page  337 WTO V. THE COMBAT. 8. Thou many-headed monster-thing, Oh who would wish to be thy kingl XXXL But soft! what messenger of speed Spurs hitherward his panting steed? I guess his cognizance afar — What from our cousin, John of Mar?" U He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound Within the safe and guarded ground: For some foul purpose yet unknownMost sure for evil to the throneThe outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, Has summoned his rebellious crew;'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid These loose banditti stand arrayed. The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune, To break their muster marched, and soon Your grace will hear of battle fought; But earnestly theEarl besought, Till for such danger he provide, With scanty train you will not ride." XXXIL Thou warn'st me I have done amis; I should have earlier looked 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 laws. The tidings of their leaders lost Will soon dissolve the mountain host, Nor would we that the vulgar feel, lFor their Chiefs crimes, avenging steel:Bear Mar our message, Braco, fly." tHe turned his steed —" My liege, I hie, Yet, ere I cross this lily lawn, I fear the broad-swords will be drawn., The turf the flying courser spurned, And to his towers the King, returned. 30*

Page  338 338 THE LADY OF THE LAXIE. C.NTO at XXXIIL 1 with King James's mood that day Suited gay feast and minstrel lay; Soon were dismissed the courtly throng, And soon cut short the festal song. Nor less upon the saddened town The evening sank in sorrow down; The burghers spoke of civil jar, Of rumoured feuds and mountain war, Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, All up in arms: the Douglas too, They mourned him pent within the hold "Where stout Earl William was of old;" And there his word the speaker staid, And finger on his lip he laid, Or pointed to his dagger blade. But jaded horsemen from the west, At evening to the castle pressed; 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 rumour shook the town, Till closed the Night her pennons brown. CA N TO SIXTIL THE GUAdd ROOM, The sun, awakening, through the smoky air Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, Of sinful man the sad inheritance; Summoning revellers from the lagging danc% 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.

Page  339 ~ To Vtr. oWE GUARD Rono. S39 W at various scenes, and oh! what scenes of woe, Are witnessed by that red and struggling beaml The fevered patient, from his pallet low, Through crowded hospital beholds it streemi The ruined maiden trembles at its.gleam, The debtor wakes to thoughts of gyve and jail, The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream;.The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeblewail IIL At dawn the towers 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'd,'The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, And, struggling with the smoky air, Deadened the torches' yellow glare. In comfortless alliance shone The lights through arch of blackened stone, &And showed wild shapes in garb of war, Faces deformed with beard and scar, All haggard from the midnight watch, And fevered with the stern debauch; For the oak table's massive board, Flooded with wine, with fragments stored, iAnd beakers drained, and cups o'erthrowv, Showed in what sport the night had flown. Some, weary, snored on floor and bench; Some laboured still their thirst to quench; Some, chilled. with watching, spread their hands O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, While round them, or beside them flung, At every step their harness rung. These drew not for their fields the sword, Like tenants of a feudal lord, Nor owned the patriarchal claim I Of chieftain in their leader's name i

Page  340 640 Trni LA.D OT'ZIE LAR1 CANTSIB: B 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 SWvitzer there More freely breathed in mountain-air, The Fleming there despised the soil, That paid so ill the labourer's toil; Their rolls showed French and German nauW And merry England's exiles came, To share, with ill-concealed disdain, Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain..All brave in arms, well'trained to wield The heavy halbert, brand, and shield; In camps, licentious, wild, and bold; In pillage, fierce and uncontrolled; And now, by holytide and feast, From rules of discipline releasedo IV. They held debate of bloody fray, Fought'twixt Loch-Katrine and Achray. Fierce was their speech and, mid their word. Their hands oft grappled to their swords; Nor sank 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 heardy — Sad burdened to the ruffian joke, And savage oath by fury spoke!At length upstarted 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 dicers' brawling sport, And shouted loud, "Renew the bowl} And, while a merry catch I troll, Let each the buxom chorus bear, Like brethren of the brand and

Page  341 CIo All. * EIE GUARD ROOM. 3~t SOLDIER' SO r. Our;Wicar still preaches that Peter and Potle Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl, That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black jaok, And seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack4 Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor, Drink upsees 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,lSays, thatBeelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly, And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye Yet whoop, Jack! kiss Gillian the qaicker, Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig fr the vica-r! 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 vic VL The warder'sc hallenge heard without, -Stayed in mid roar the merry shout. A soldier to the portal went- t 4 Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent; And, beat for jubilee the drum! A maid and minstrel with him come.! Bertram, a Fleming, grey and scarr'4, Was entering now the court of guard, A harper with him, and, in plaid All muffled close, a mountain maid, Who backward shrank to'scape the iew i Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. What news?" they roared:-" I only kea7 J iFrom noon till eve we fought with foe, As wild and as untameable, As the rude montas wheare they dwell I 1 _______________ _______________ ____

Page  342 '42 THE LADY OP THE LAE, OC TTW L On both sides store of blood is lost, Nor much success can either boast." "But whence thy captives, friend? such spoil As theirs must needs reward thy toil Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp;. Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp, Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, The leader of a juggler band." VIL No, comrade;-no such fortune mine. I 1Y~~After the fight, these sought our line, That aged harper and the girl, And,, having audience of the Earl, Mar bade I should purvey them steed, AI nd bring them hitherward with speed. Forbear your mirth and rude alarm, IFor none shall do them shame or harm.: U Hear ye his boast!"cried John of Brent, Ever to strife and& jangling bent; "Shall he strike doe beside our lodgea8 And yet the jealous niggard grudge To pay the forester his fee? R'll have my share howe'er it be, ~Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee." Bertram his forward step withstood, And, burning in his vengeful mood, Old Allan, though unfit for strife, Laid hand upon his dagger-knife; But Ellen boldly stepp'd between And dropp'd at once the tartan screenV So, from his morning cloud, appears The sun of May, through summer tears The savage soldiery, amazed, As on descended angel gazed; Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed, Stood half admiring, half ashamed. Boldly she spoke-" Soldiers, attendi My father was the soldier's friend; Cheered him in camps, in marches led, And with him in the battle bled. Not from the valiant, or the strong, Should exi2e's daughter suffer wron.:~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I

Page  343 CATO VL THE GUARD ROOM, 843 Answered De Brent, most forward still In every feat or good or ill, "I shame me of the part I played; And thou an outlaw's child, poor maidl An outlaw I by Forest laws, And merry Needwood knows the cause. Poor Rose-if Rose be living now" — IHe wiped his iron eye and brow, "Must bear such age, I think, as thou. Hear ye, my mates; I go to call The Captain of our watch to hall: There lies my halbert on the floor;, And he that steps my halbert o'er, To do the maid injurious part, My shaft shall quiver in his heart! Beware loose speech, or jesting rough:' Ye all know John de Brent. Enough." Ix. Their Captain came, a gallant young — (OfTullibardine's house he sprung): Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight; Gay was his mien, his humour light, And, though by courtesy controlled, Forward his speech, his bearing bold. The high-born maiden ill could brook The scanning of his curious look And dauntless eye; and yet, in sooth, Young Lewis was a generous youth; But Ellen's lovely face and mien, Ill-suited to the garb and scene, Might lightly bear construction strange, And give loose fancy scope to range. "Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid! Come ye to seek a champion's aid,,On palfrey white, with harper hoar, Like errant damosel of yore? Does thy high questa knight require, Or may the venture suit a squire?" Her dark eye flashed; she paused and sighed, " Oh what have I to do with pride!Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, A suppliant for a father's life, I crave an audience of the King. Behold, to back my suit, a ring,

Page  344 344 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CA,:TO. VI The royal pledge of grateful claims, Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James." X. The signet ring young Lewis took, EWith deep respect and altered look; And said-" This ring our duties own; And pardon, if, to worth unknown, In semblance mean obscurely veiled, Lady, in aught my folly failed. Soon as the day flings wide his gates, The King shall know what suitor wvaits. Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower Repose you till his waking hour; Female attendance shall obey Your hest, for service or array. Permit I marshal you the way." But, ere she followed, with the grace And open bounty of her race, She bade her slender purse be shared Among the soldiers of the guard. The rest with thanks their guerdon took; But Brent, with shy and awkward look, On the reluctant maiden's hold Forced bluntly back the proffered gold; — "Forgive a haughty English heart, And oh, forget its ruder partl The vacant purse shall be my share, Which in my barret-cap I'll bear, Perchance, in jeopardy of war, Where gayer crests may keep afar." With thanks-'twas all she could-the maid His rugged courtesy repaid. XL When Ellen forth with Lewis went, Allan made suit to John of Brent: — " My lady safe, oh let your grace Give me to see my master's face! His minstrel I-to share his doom Bound from the cradle to the tomb. Tenth in descent, since first my sires Waked for his noble house their lyres, Nor one of all the race was known But prized its weal above their own.

Page  345 CBurr VL. THE GUARD ROOM, 4 With the Chief's birth begins our care; Our harp must soothe the infant heir, Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace His earliest feat of field or chase; In peace, in war, our rank we keep, We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep, Nor leave hiim till we pour our verse, A doleful tribute! o'er his hearse. Then let me share his captive lot; It is my right-deny it not!" "Little we reck," said John of Brent, "We southern men, of long descent; Nor wot we how a name-a wordMakes clansmen vassals to a lord: Yet kind my noble landlord's partGod bless the house of BeaudesertI And, but I loved to drive the deer, More than to guide the labouring steer, I had not dwelt an outcast here. Come, good old Minstrel, follow me; Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see. XIL 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 passed, where, deep within, Spoke prisoner'smoan and fetters' din; Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stor&ed Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword, And many an hideous engine grim, For wrenching joint, and crushing limb, By artists formed, who deemed it shame And sin to give their work a name. They halted at a low-browed porch, And Brent to Allan gave the torch, While bolt and chain he backward rolled, And made the bar unhasp its hold. They entered —'twas a prison-room Of stern security and gloom, Yet not a dungeon; for the day Through lofty gratings found is way, And rude and antique garniture Decked the sad walls and oaken floor; 81

Page  346 TH.E'LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO VS Such as the rugged days' of old, Deem'd fit fobr captive noble's hold. 4 Here," said De Brent, " thou may'st remain Till the Leach 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 Minstrel looked, and knew Not his dearlord, but Roderick Dhu! For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, They, erring, deemed the Chief he sought, XHL As the tall ship, whose lofty prore Shall never stem the billows more, Deserted by her gallant band, Amid the breakers lies astrand, So, on his couch, lay Roderick Dhul And oft his fevered limbs he threw In toss abrupt, as when her sides Lie rocking in the advancing tides, That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, Yet cannot heave her from her seat; Oh! how unlike her course on seal 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 ruined in my fall? Ah, yes! or wherefore art thou here! Yet speak-speak boldly!-do not fear," (For Allan, who his mood well knewt Was choked with grief and terror too.) "Who fought?-who fled? Old man, be briefs Some might-for they had lost their Chief. Who basely live?-who bravely died?" " Oh, calm thee, Chief!" the Minstrel cried, "Ellen is safe;" —For that, thank Heaven!' "And hopes are for the Douglas given; 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.

Page  347 CANTO VL TBE GUARD ROOM. Thy stately pine is yet unbent, Though many a goodly bough is rent.' XIV. The Chieftain reared his form on high, And fever's fire was in his eye; But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks Chequered 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) Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced, 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 i These grates, these walls, shall vanish then, For the fair field of fighting men, And my free spirit burst away, As if it soared from battle fray." The trembling bard with awe obeyed — Slow on the harp his hand he laid; But soon remembrance of the sight He witnessed from the mountain's height, With what old Bertram told at night, Awakened 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 beaea -XV. BATTLE OF IBEAL' AN DUINE "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 strandl

Page  348 248 THE LADY OF THE LAKE CATO' L There is no breeze upon the fern, No ripple on the lake, Upon her eyrie nods the erne, 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. 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, To hero boune for battle strife, Or bard of martial lay,'Twere worth ten years of peaceful lik One glance at their arrayl xvL. 4Their light-armed archers far and near Surveyed the tangled ground, Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, A twilight forest frowned, Their barbed horsemen, in the rear, The stern battalia crowned. No cymbal clashed, 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 seemed to quake, That shadowed o'er their road. Their vaward scouts no tidings bring, Can rouse no lurking foe, Nor spy a trace of living thing, Save when they stirred the doe;

Page  349 CANTO V. ToHE GADr ) ROO M The host moves, like a deep sea-wave, Where rise no rocks its pride to brave, High-swelling, dark, and slow. The lake is passed, and now they gain A narrow and a broken plain, Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws; And here the horse and spearmen pauin, While, to explore the dangerous glen, Dive through the pass the archer-men,,XVI " At once there rose so wild a yell Within that dark and narrow dell, As all the fiends, from heaven that fell, Had pealed 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 I their flight they plyAnd shriek, and shout, and battle-cry. And plaids and bonnets waving high, And broad-swords flashing to the sky, Are maddening in their 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 dowvn: 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; Afid closely shouldering side to side, The bristling ranks the onset bide.. -' We'll quell the savage mountaineer, As their Tmchel cows the game! They come as fleet as forest deer, We'll drive them back as tame.' XVIIL a 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. 31.

Page  350 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CAdotO VT Above the tide, each broad-sword 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 hurled them on the foe. I heard the lance's shivering crash, As when the whirlwind rends the ash; I heard the broad-sword's deadly clang, As if an hundred anvils rang! But Moray wheeled 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 dashed 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 thenl One blast upon his bugle horn Were worth a thousand men. And refluent through the pass of fear The battle's tide was pour'd; Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, Vanished the mountain sword. As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep. Receives her roaring Hinn, 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. XIX. i " 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 Opens on Katrine's lake and isle,

Page  351 OATR VI. THRE GUARD ROOM. 51 Grey Ben-venue I soon repassed, Loch-Katrine lay beneath me cast. The sun is set-the clouds are metThe 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 agen. I heeded not the eddying surge, Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, Mine ear but heard that sullen sound, Which like an earthquake shook the grounz4 And spoke the stern and desperate strife 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 agen, 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 darkening cloud of Saxon spears.. At weary bay each shattered 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 Marked the fell havoc of the day. XX. "Viewing the mountain's ridge askancet The Saxons stood in sullen trance, Till Moray pointed with his lance, And cried-' Behold yon isle! Seel 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 shaliop firom the shore. Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then, Lords of his mate, and brood, and den.

Page  352 352 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO xI 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, their mate to cheer, The helpless females scream for fear, And yells for rage the mountaineer.'Twas then, as by the outcry riven, Poured down at once the lowering heaven; A whirlwind swept Loch-Katrine's breast,Her billows reared their snowy crest. Well for the swimmer swelled they high, To mar the highland marksman's eyes For round him showered,'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 marked Duncraggan's widowed dame, Behind an oak I saw her stand, A naked dirk gleamed in her hand:-' It darkened-but amid the moan Of waves I heard a dying groan; — Another flashl the spearman floats A weltering corse beside the boats, And the stern Matron o'er him stood, Her hand and dagger streaming blood. XXIL "' Revenge! revenge!' the Saxons cried9 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, Sprang from his horse, and, from a crag, Waved'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. Clarion and trumpet by his side Rang forth a truce note high and wldeq While, in the monarch's name, afar A herald's voice forbade the war,

Page  353 CANTO Vi HBE GUARD ROOM 33 For Bothwell's lord, and Roderick bold, Were both, he said, in captive hold." -But here the lay made sudden stand; The harp escap'd the minstrel's handl Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy.: 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 deafened ear The minstrel melody can hear; His face grows sharp-his hands are clenched, As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched; Set are his teeth, his fading eye Is sternly fixed on vacancy. Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew His parting breath, stout Roderick DhulOld Allan-bane looked on aghast, While grim and still his spirit passed; But when he saw that life was fled, He poured his wailing o'er the dead. LAMNK?. "And art thou cold, and lowly laid, Thy foemen's dread, thy people's aid, Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's..shadej 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, E'en in this prison-house of thine, r'l wail for Alpine's honoured pine! "Wh hat groans shall yonder valleys fll! What shrieks of grief shall rend yon. hillU What tears of burning rage shall thrill, When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, Thy fall before the race was won, Thy sword ungirt ere. set of sunI There breathes not clansman of thy.linq, But would have given his life for thine. Oh woe for'Alpine's honoured pinel

Page  354 854 THE LADY OF THE LAIr. CANTO VI. "Sad was thy lot on mortal stage!The captive thrush may brook the cage, The prisoned 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 woe and tears with mine, To wail Clan-Alpine's honoured pine." XXIIIL Ellen, the while, with bursting heart, Remained in lordly bower apart, Where played, with many-coloured gleamn, 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; Or, if she looked,'twas but to say, With better omen dawned the day 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 Lufra, crouching by her side, Her station claimed with jealous prides And Douglas, bent on woodland game, Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Grame, Whose answer, oft at random made, The wandering of his thoughts betrayedThose who such simple joys have knownrl Are taught to prize them when they're gnlnm But sudden, see, she lifts her-head! The window seeks with cautious tread. What distant music has the power To win her in this woeful houri' Twas from a turret that o'erhung Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. LAT 0P THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN, "My hawk is tired of perch and hood, My idle greyhound loathes his food,

Page  355 CAlTO VI. THE GUARD ROOM.l 35 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 forests green, With bended bowand bloodhound free, For that's the life is meet for me.'I hate to learn the ebb of time From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 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 dawning morn I rise, jN~~ j ~ And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, Drive the fleet deer the forest through, And homeward wend with evening dew; A blithesome welcome blithely meet, And lay my trophies at her feet, t~ ~ ~ P~While fled the eve on wing of gleeThat life is lost to love and me!" The heart-sick lay was hardly said, The list'ner had not turned her head, It trickled still, the starting tear, When light a footstep struck her ear, And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near. She turned the hastier, lest again The prisoner should renew his strain. "Oh welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said; "How may an almost orphan maid rPay the deep debt." "Oh say not so; To me no gratitude you owe. 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 May lead his better mood aside. Come, Ellen, come —'tis more than time, He holds his court at morning prime."

Page  356 3-66 MyE LADY OF TPR IM. VCATO E LN With beating heart, and bosom wrung, As to a brother's arm she clung. Gently he dried the falling tear, And gently whispered hope and cheer; Her faltering steps half led, half staid, Through gallery fair and high arcade, Till, at his touch, its wings of pride A portal arch unfolded wide, XXVL Within'tas brilliant all and light, A thronging scene of-figures brights It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight, As when the setting sun has given Ten thousand hues to summer even, And, from their tissue, fancy frames Airial knights and fairy dames. Still by Fitz-James her footing staia 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 owned this stalte The dreaded prince whose will was fatel She gazed on many a princely port, MIight well have ruled a iroyal court; On many a splendid garb she gazed — Then turned bewildered and amazed, For all stood bare; and, in the room, Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. To him each lady's look was lent, On him each courtier's eye was bent;'Mlidst furs, and silks, and jewels sheen, lie stood, in simple Lincoln green, The centre of the glittering ring — And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's Kingg XXVIL As wreath of snow on mountain breast, Slides from the rock that gave it rest, Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And at the Monarch's feet she lay; No word her choking voice commandoShe showed the ring-she clasped her hand. Oh! not a moment could he brook, The generous prince, that suppliant look!

Page  357 CANTO- V, THE GUAMS ROOM Gently he raised her-and the while Checked with a glance the circle's smile. Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, And bade her terrors be dismissed — " 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-yester even, 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 loudl Calmly we heard and judged his cause, Our council aided and our laws. I stanched thy father's death-feud stern, With stout De Vaux and Grey Glencairn. And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own The friend and bulwark of our Throne. But, lovely infidel, how now? What clouds thy misbelieving brow9 Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid; Thou must confirm this doubting maid." XXVIIL Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, And on his neck his daughter hung. The Monarch drank, that happy hour, The sweetest, holiest draught of powerWhen it can say, with godlike voice, Arise, sad Virtuej and rejoice! Yet would not James the general eye On nature's raptures long should pry; He stepp'd between —" Nay, Douglas, nays 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-Jamez Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, Thus learn. to right the injuread cause*

Page  358 $58 TIE LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO JL Then, in a tone apart and low, -' Ah, little trait'ress! none must know What idle dream, what lighter thought, What vanity full dearly bought, Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew y spell-bound 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?"'XXX Fall well the conscious maiden guessed, He probed the weakness of her breast; But, with that consciousness, there came A lightening of her fears for Grwame, And more she deemed 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 kings Alone can stay life's parting wings. I know his heart, I know his hand, Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand,My fairest earldom would I give To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain livel Hast thou no other boon to crave?No other captive friend to save?" Blushing, she turned her from the King And to the Douglas gave the ring, As if she wished her sire to speak The suit that stained 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 kneeI'd the Grteme to Scotland's Lord. "For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, From thee may Vengeance claim her duds, Who, nurtured underneath our smile. Iast paid our care by treacherous wile, And sought amid thy faithful clan, A refuge for an outlawed man,

Page  359 CANTO VL THE GUARD ROOM, 859 Dishonouring thus thy loyal name. [Fetters and warder for the Graeme!" His chain of gold the King unstrung, The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, Then gently drew the glittering band, And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 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 elml the fountain lending, And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy; Thy numbers sweet with Nature's vespers blend. ing, With distant echo from the fold and lea, And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harpl 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 dawned wearier day, And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own. Hark! as my lingering footstep slow retire, Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string'Tis now a Seraph bold, with touch of fire,'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 spellAnd now,'tis silent all —Enchantress, fare thee wedll

Page  360 I

Page  361 VI SION DON RODERICK. THE following poem is founded upon a Spanish tradi. tion, particularly detailed in the notes; but bearing, in gene. ral, that Don Roderick, the last Gothic King of Spain when the invasion of the Moors was impending, had the temerity to descend into an ancient vault, near Toledo, the opening of which had been denounced as fatal to the Spanish monarchy. The legend adds, that his rash curiosity was mortified by an emblematical representation of those Saracens who, in the year 714, defeated him in battle, and reduced Spain under their dominion. I have presumed to prolong the vision of the revolutions of Spain down to the present eventful crisis of the Peninsula; and to divide it, by a sup. posed change of scene, into threeperiods. The first of these represents the invasion of the Moors, the defeat and death of Roderick, and closes with the peaceful occupation of the country by the victors. The second embraces the state of the Peninsula, when the conquests of the Spaniards and Portuguese in the East and West Indies had raised to the highest pitch the renown of their arms; sullied, however, by superstition and cruelty. An illusion to the inhumani. ties of the Inquisition terminates this picture. The lastpart 824

Page  362 362 of the poem opens with the state of Spain previous to the unparalleled treachery of Bounaparte; gives a sku tch of the usurpation attempted upon that unsuspicious and friendly kingdom, and terminates with the arrival of the Br;itisit succours. It may be farther proper to mention, that the object of the poem is less to commemorate or detail particular incidents, than to exhibit a general and impressive picture of the several periods brought upon the stage. I am too sensible of the respect due to the Public, especially by one who has already experienced more than ordinary indulgence, to offer any apology for the inferiority of the poetry to the subject it is chiefly designed to commemorate. Yet I think it proper to mention, that,.while I was hastily executing a work, written for a temporary purpose, and on passing events, the task was most cruelly interrupted by the successive deaths of Lord President Blair, and Lord Viscount Melville. In those distinguished characters, I had not only to regret persons whose lives were most important to Scotland, but also whose notice and patronage honoured my entrance upon active life; and I may add, with melancholy pride who permitted my more advanced age to claim no common share in their friendship. Under such interruptions, the following verses, which my best and happiest efforts must have left far unworthy of their theme, have, I am myself sensible, an appearance of negligence and coherence, which,in other circumstances, I might have been able to remove. ]w]BURGN, June 24th, 1811. I ___________________

Page  363 V: LISION OF DON RODENTS VISION OF DON iROI)EIIC' "Q' uid digsum memorare tuis,fzspania, terit, Vox humana valet."-Claudian. INTRODUCTION. Livus there a strain, whose sounds of mounting fire, May rise distinguish'd o'er the din of war, Or died it with yon master of the lyre, Who sung beleaguer'd Ilion's evil star? Such, Wellington, might reach thee from afar, Wafting its descant wide o'er ocean's range; Nor shouts, nor clashing arms, its mood could mar, All as it swell'd'twixt each loud trumpet-change, That clangs to Britain, victory,-to Portugal, revyegal IL Yes! such a strain, with all-o'erpowering measure, Might melodize with each tumultuous sound, Each voice of fear or triumph, woe or pleasure, That rings Mondego's ravaged shores around; The thundering cry of hosts with conquest crown'd, The female shriek, the ruin'd peasant's moan, The shout of captives from their chains unbound, The foil'd oppressor's deep and sullen groan, A nation's choral hymn for tyranny o'erthrown. L,,.

Page  364 3614 TTIM VISION OF DON RODEMISCE IIL But we weak minstrels of a laggard day, Skill'd but to imitate an elder page, Timid and raptureless, can we repay The debt thou claim'st in this exhausted age.? Thou giv'st our lyres a theme, that might engage Those that could send thy name o'er sea and laud While sea and land shall last; for Homer's rage A theme; a theme for Milton's mighty hand —. How much unmeet for us, a faint degenerate band. IV. Ye mountains stern! within whose rugged breast, The friends of Scottish freedom found repose; Ye torrents! whose hoarse sounds have soothed their rest Returning from the field of vanquish'd foes; Say, have ye lost each wild majestic close, That erst the choir of bards or druids flung,.-hat time their hymn' of victory arose, And Cattraeth's glens with voice of triumph rung, And mystic Merlin harp'd, and grey-hair'd Llywarch sung 0! if your wilds such'minstrelsy retain, As sure your changeful gales seem oft to say, When sweeping wild and sinking soft. again, Like trumpet-jubilee, or harp's wild sway; If ye can echo such triumphant lay, Then lend the note to him has loved you longe Who pious gather'd each tradition grey, That floats your solitary wastes along, And with affection vain gave them new voice in song For not till now, how oft soe'er the task Of truant verse hath lighten'd graver care From muse or sylvan was he wont to ask, In phrase poetic, inspiration fair; Careless he gave his numbers to the air, — They came unsought for, if applauses camel Nor for himself prefers he now the prayer; Let but his verse befit a hero's fame. Immortal be the verse,-'brgot the poet's name.

Page  365 TIE VInSION Ot DON RODRIIOKC 365 HIark, from yon misty cairn their answer toss'd: " Minstrel the fame of whose romantic lyre, Capricious swelling now, may soon be lost, Like the light flickering of a cottage fire: If to such task presumptuous thou aspire, Seek not from us the meed to warrior due; Age after age has gather'd son to sire, Since our grey cliffs the din of conflict knew, 0 i, pealing through our v.ales, victorious bugles blew. VIIL " Decay'd our old traditionary lowr, Save where the lingering fays renew their ring, 2By milk-maid seen beneath the hawthorn hoar, Or round the marge of Minchmore's haunted springl ]Save where their legends grey-hair'd shepherds sing, That now scarce win a- listening ear but thine,:Of feuds obscure, and border ravaging, And rugged deeds recount in rugged line, Of.moonlight foray made on Teviot, Tweed, or Tyne, "No! search romantic lands, where the neer sun Gives with unstinted boon ethereal flame, Where the rude villager, his labour done, In verse spontaneous chants some favour'd name; Whether Olalia's charms his tribute claim, Her eye of diamond, and her locks of jet; Or whether, kindling at the deeds of Grxeme, He sing, to wild Morisco measure set, Old Albin's red claymore,green Erin's bayonet. X "Explore those regions, where the flinty crest Of wild Nevada ever gleams with snows, Where in the proud Alhambra's ruined breast Bairbaric monuments of pomp repose; Or where the banners of more ruthless foes Than the fierce Moor, float o'er Toledo's fane, From whose tall towers even now the patriot thE-ows An anxious glance, to spy upon the plain The blended ranks of England, Portugal, and Spain.

Page  366 a (Gl6 TUBT VISION OPF WON RODERICv XIL "There, of Numantian fire a swarthy spark Still lightens in the sun-burnt native's eye; The stately port, slow step, and visage dark, Still mark enduring pride and constancy. And, if the glow of feudal chivalry Beam not, as once, thy nobles' dearest pride, Iberia! oft thy crestless peasantry Have seen the plumed Hidalgo quit their side; Have seen, yet dauntless stood-'gainst fortune fuughti and died. "And eherish'd still by that unchanging race, Are themes for minstrelsy more high than thineOf strange tradition many a mystic. trace, Legend and vision, prophecy and sign; Where wonders wild of Arabesque combine With Gothic imagery of darker shade, Forming a model meet for minstrel line. Go, seek such theme!"-the M1ountain Spirit sai*: With filial awe I heard-I heard, and I obey'd. THE VISION. Rearing their crests amid the, cloudless skies, And darkly clustering in the pale moonlights Toledo's holy towers and spires arise, As from a trembling lake of silver white; Their mingled shadows intercept the sight Of the broad burial-ground outstretch'd below, And nought disturbs the silence of the night; All sleeps in sullen shade, or silver glow, All save the heavy swell of Teio's ceaseless flow. IL AU save the rushing swell of Teio's tide, Or, distant heard, a courser's neigh or trampr L.______________ _

Page  367 THE VISION OF DON RODERICK Their changing rounds as watchful horsemen ride, To guard the limits of King Roderick's camp, For, through the river's night-fog rolling damp, Was many a proud pavilion dimly seen, Which glimmer'd back; against the moon's fair lamp, Tissues of silk and silver twisted sheen, And standardsproudlypitch'd, and warders arm'd between. IIL But of their Monarch's person keeping ward, Since last the deep-mouth'd bell of vespers toll'd, The chosen soldiers of the royal guard Their post beneath the proud Cathedral hold: A band unlike their Gothic sires of old, Who, for the cap of steel and iron mace, Bear slender darts, and casques bedeck'd with gold, While silver-studded belts their shoulders grace, Where ivory quivers ring in the broad falchion's place. IV. In the light language of an idle court, They murmur'd at their master's long delay, And held his lengthen'd orisons in sport: "Whatl will Don Roderick here till morning stay, To wear in shrift and prayer the night away? And are his hours in such dull penance past For fair Florinda's plunder'd charms to pay?" Then to the east their weary eyes they cast, And wish'd the lingering dawn would glimmer forth at last V But, far within, Toledo's Prelate lent An ear of fearful wonder to the King; The silver lamp a fitful lustre sent, So long that sad confession witnessing: For Roderick told of many a hidden thing, Such as are lothly utter'd to the air, When Fear, Remorse, and Shame, the bosom wring. And Guilt his secret burthen cannot bear, And Conscience seeks in speech a respite from Despair. VL Full on the Prelate's face,' and silver hair, The stream of failing light was feebly roll'd;

Page  368 36e8 TTHE VIlION OF DON BODERIOC But Roderick's visage, though his head was bare, Was shadow'd by his hand and mantle's fold. While of his hidden soul the sins he told, Proud Alaric's descendant could not brook That mortal man his bearing should behold, Or boast that he had seen, when conscience shook. Fear tame a monarch's brow, remorse a warrior's look. VIL The old man's faded cheek wax'd yet more-pale, As many a secret sad the king bewray'd; And sign and glance eked: out the:unfinished tale, When in the midst his faltering whisper staid. "Thus royal Witiza was slain," —he' said; "Yet, holy father, deem not it was I."Thus still Ambition strives-her crimes to shade — " 0 rather deem'twas stern necessity! Self-preservation bade, and I must kill or. die. VIIL "And, if Florinda's shrieks alarm'd the air, If she invoked her absent sire in vain, And on her knees implored that I would spare, Yet, reverend priest, thy sentence rash refrain!All is not as it seems-the female train Know by their bearing to disguise their mood:" But Conscience here, -as if in high disdain, Sent to the Monarch's cheek the burning bloodHe stay'd his speech abrupt-and up the Prelate stood. "0 harden'd offspring of an iron race! What of thy crimes, Don Roderick, shall I say? What alms, or prayers, or penance. can efface Murder's dark spot, wash treason's stain away!:For the foul ravisher how shall I pray, Who, scarce repentant, makes his crime his boast? How hope Almighty vengeance shall delay, Unless, in mercy to yon Christian host, He spare the shepherd, lest the guiltless sheep be lost." — X. Then kindled the dark tyrant in his mood, And to his brow return'd its dauntless gloean;

Page  369 ;THE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 3G('And welcome then," he cried, "be blood for blood, For treason treachery, for dishonour doom! Yet will I know whence come they, or by whom. Show, for thou canst-give forth the fated key, And guide me, Priest, to that mysterious room, Where, if aught true in old tradition be, His nation's future fates a Spanish King shall see."XL "Ill-fated prince! recall the desperate word, Or pause ere yet the omen thou obey! Bethink, you spell-bound portal would, afford Never to former Monarch entrance-way; Nor shall it ever ope, old records say, Save to a King, the last of all his line, What time his empire totters to decay, And treason digs, beneath, her fatal mine, And, high above, impends avenging wrath divine."-. XIL " Prelate! a Monarch's fIte brooks no delay! Lead on!" — The ponderous key the old man took, And held the winking lamp, and led the way By winding stair, dark aisle, and secret nook, Then on an ancient gateway bent his look; And, as the key the desperate King essay'd, Low mutter'd thunders the Cathedral shook, And twice he stopp'd, and twice new effort made, Till the huge bolts roll'd back, and the loud hinges bray'd. XIIL Long, large, and lofty, was that vaulted hall; Roof, walls, and floor, were all of marble stone, Of polish'd marble, black as funeral pall, Carved o'er with signs and characters unknown. A paly light, as of The dawning, shone Through the sad bounds, but whence they could not spy;,. For window to the upper air was none; Yet, by that light, Don Roderick could descry Wonders that ne'er till then were seen by mortal eye. XIV. Grim sentinels, against the upper wall, Of molten bronze, two Statues held their place; i i~~~~~~~~~~8

Page  370 THE VISION OF DON RODERlC. Massive their naked limbs, their stature tall, Their frowning foreheads golden circles grace. Moulded they seem'd for kings of giant race, That lived and sinn'd before the avenging flood' This grasp'a a scythe, that rested on a mace; This spread his wings for flight, that pondering, t,,so, Each stubborn seem'd and stern, immutable of mooiL XV. Fix'd was the right-hand Giant's brazen look Upon his brother's glass of shifting sand, As if its ebb he measured by a book, Whose iron volume loaded his huge hand; In which was wrote of many a falling land, Of empires lost, and kings to exile driven; And o'er that pair their names in scroll expand —"Lo, Destiny and Time! to whom by Heaven The guidance of the earth is for a season given."- - XVL H Even while they read, the sand-glass wastes away; And, as the last and lagging grains did creelp, That right-hand Giant'gan his club upsway, As one that startles from a heavy sleep. Full on the upper wall the mace's sweep At once descended with the force of thunder, And, hurling down at once, in crumbled heap, The marble boundary was rent asunder, And gave to Roderick's view new sights of fear and( woncd l, XVILi For they might spy, beyond that mighty breach, Realms as of Spain in vision'd prospect laid, Castles and towers, in due proportion each, As by some skilful artist's hand portray'd: Here, cross'd by many a wild Sierra's shade, And boundless plains that tire the traveller's eve; There, rich with vineyard and with olive-glade, Or deep-embrown'd by forests huge and high, Or wash'd by mighty streams, that slowly murnnl' bdy. XVIII And here, as erst upon the antique stage rass'd forth the bands of masquers trimly led,

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Page  371 TDlI VIStON' (1t DON RODERICIE 371 n various forms, and various equipage, While fitting strains the hearer's fancy fedc So, to sad Roderick's eye in order spread, i Successive pageants fill'd that mystic scene, Showing the late of battles ere they bled, And issue of events that had not been; |: And ever, and anon strange sounds were heard between. XIX. First shrill'd an unrepeated female shriek!It seem'd as if Don Roderick knew the call, For tho bold blood was blanching in his cheek.Then answer'd kettle-drum and atabal, Gong-peal and cymbal-clank the ear appal, The Tecbir war-cry, and the Lelies yell, Ring wildly dissonant along the hall. Needs not to Roderick their dread import tellooThe MoorS" he cried, "the Moorl —ring out the toesin ~i ~ ~~ I belll "They come! they come! I see the groaning lands White with the turbans of each Arab horde, Swart Zaarah joins her misbelieving bands, Alla and NMahomet their battle-word; The choice they yield the Koran or the sword.See how the Christians rush to arms amainlIn yonder shout the voice of conflict roar'd; The shadowy hosts are closing on the plainNo*', God and St.ia!o strike, for the good cause ol Spain! XXL 1By heaven, the Moors prevail! the Christians yieldl — Their coward leader gives for flight the sign! The sceptred craven mounts to quit the fieldIs not yon steed Orelia?-Yes,'tis mine! But never was she turn'd from battle line;Lol where the recreant spurs o'er stock and stone! Curses pursue the slave and wrath divine! Rivers engulf him!"-" Hush," in shuddering tone, The Prelate said; "rash Prince, you rision'd kbiom's thine own,"XXIL Just then, a torrent crossed the flier's course; The dangerous ford the Kingly Likeness tried; " — - -I _ __ _ _. _.........,... __......

Page  372 Z THE VIKtoiF OF DON~ ROIERIOA But the deep eddies whelm'd both man and horse, Swept like benighted peasant down the tide; And the proud Moslemah spread far and wide, As numerous as their native locust band; Berber and Ismael's sons the spoils divide, With naked scimitars mete out the land, And for their bondsmen base the freeborn natives bran&J XXr1L Then rose the grated Harem, to enclose The loveliest maidens of the Christian line; Then, menials to their misbelieving foes, Castile's young nobles held forbidden wine; Then, too, the holy Cross, salvation's sign, By impious hands was from the altar thrown, And the deep aisles of the polluted shrine Echoed, for holy hymn and organ tone, The Santon's frantic dance, the Fakir'& gibbering mo~ma XXIV. How fares Don Roderick?-E'en as one who spies Flames dart their glare o'er midnight's sable woof, And hears around his children's piercing cries, And sees the pale assistants stand aloof'; While cruel Conscience brings him bitter proof, His folly, or his crime, have caused his grief; And, while above him nods the crumbling roof, He curses earth and heaven-himself in chier — Desperate of earthly aid, despairing Heaven's relief! XXV. That scythe-armed Giant turned his fatal glass, And twilight on the landscape closed her wings, Far to Asturian hills the war-sounds pass, And in their stead rebeck or timbrel rings; And to the sound the bell-deck'd dancer springs, Bazars resound as when their marts are met, In tourney light the Moor his jerrid flings, And on the land as evening seem'd to set, The Imaula's chant was heard from mosque or minaret. XXVL So pass'd that pageant. Ere another- came, The visionary scene was wrapp'd in smokl

Page  373 TlE. VISION OF DOWN RODERIC K..,: W'hose sulphi'rous wreaths were cross'd by sheet of flaic; With every flash a bolt explosive broke,'Till lioderick deem'd the fiends had burst their yoke, And waved'gainst heaven the infernal gonfalonel F'or War a new and dreadful language spoke, Never by ancient warrior heard or knowna Lightning and smoke her breath, and thunder was her toue. XXVIL From the dcim landscape roll the clouds awayThe Christians have regain'd their heritage: Before the Cross has waned the Crescent's ray, And many a monastery decks the stage, And lofty church, and low-brow'd hermitage. The land obeys a Hermit and a Knight, — The Genii these of Spain for many an age; This clad in sackcloth, that in armour bright, And that was VaLoua named, this Bmiorar was hight, XXVIIL Valour was harness'd like a Chief of old, Arm' all points, and prompt for knightly gcst; His sword was temper'd in the Ebro cold, Morena's eagle-plume adorn'd his crest,. The spoils of Afric's lion bound his breast, Fierce he stepp'd forward and flung down his gag, As it of mortal kind to brave the best. Him follow'd his Companion, dark and sage, As he, my Master, sung the dangerous Archimage. ]iaughty of heart and brow the Warrior came, In look and language proud as proud might be, Vaunting his lordship, lineage, fights and fame, Yet was that bare-foot Monk more proud than he. And as the ivy climbs the tallest tree, So round the loftiest soul his toils he wound, And with his spells subdued the fierce and free, Tfill ermined Age, and Youth in arms renown'd, Honouring his scourgo and hair-cloth, meekly kiss'd the ground. XXX. And thus it ehanced that VaLoru, peerless Knigt, hi, iae'@r sto Ki or Kaisatr veil'd his crest, 33+

Page  374 THE VBOON &F DON AMilcERI Victorious still in bull-feast, or in fight, Since first his limbs with mail he did: invest Stoop'd ever to that Anchoret's behest; Nor reason'd of the right nor of the wrong, But at his. bidding laid the lance in rest, And wrought fell deeds the troubled world alona For he was- fiereeas& brave, and pitiless as strong. Oft his proud galleys sought some-new found world, That latest sees the sun, or first the morn; Still atthat Wizard's feet their spoils he hurl'd, — Ingots of ore from rich Potosi borne, Crowns by Caciques, aigrettes by Omrahs worn, Wrought of rare gemsi but broken, rent, and foul; Idols of gold from heathen, temples torn, Bedabbled all with blood. —With grisly scowl The Hermit mark'd the stains, and smiled beneath his cowi Then did he bless the offering, and bade make Tribute to heaven of gratitude and praise; And at his word the choral hymns awake, And many a hand the silver censer sways. But with the incense-breath these censers raise, Mix steams from corpses smouldering in the fires The groans of prison'd victims mar the lays, And shrieks of agony confound the quire, While,'midthe mingledsoundisthe darkea'd scenes expires xxXIt Preluding light, were strains of music heard; As once again revolved that measured sand; Such sounds as when, for sylvan dance prepared, Gay Xeres summons forth her vintage band) When for the light Bolero ready stand The Mozo blithe, with gay Muchacha met, He conscious of his broider'd cap and band, She of her netted locks and light corsette. Each tiptoe perck'd to spring, and shake the castani,

Page  375 TMlAc VISION OF tr' ROaI)R LCK.L 375 XXXIV. And well such strains the opening scene became; For VALOUR had relaxed his ardent look, And at a lady's feet, like lion tame, Lay stretch'dfull loth the weight of arms to brook; And softenu'd BIGOTRY, upon his book, Patter'd a task of little good or ill: But the blithe peasant plied his pruning-hook, Whistled the muleteer o'er vale and hill, And rung from village-green the merry Seguidille XXXV. Grey Royalty, grown impotent of toil, Let the grave sceptre slip his lazy hold, And careless saw his rule become the spoil Of a losse Female and her Minion bold;:But peace was on the cottage and the fold, From court intrigue, from bickering faction far; Beneath the chesnut tree Love's tale was told; And to the tinkling of the light guitar, Sweet stoop'd the western sun, sweet rose the evening star XXXVL As that sea-cloud, in size like human hand, When first from Carmel by the Tishbite seen, Came slowly overshadowing Israel's land, Awhile, perchance, bedeck'd with colours sheen, While yet the sunbeams on its skirts had been, Limning with purple and with gold its shroud, Till darker folds obscured the blue serene, And blotted heaven with one broad sable cloudThen sheeted rain burst down, and whirlwinds howL'Q aloud; — XXXVIL Dven so upon that peaceful scene was pourd, Like gathering clouds, full many a foreign band. And wHE, their Leader, wore in sheath his sword. And offer'd peaceful front and open hand; Veiling the perjured treachery he plann'd, By friendship's zeal and honour'A spacious gaise, Until he won the passes of the land;

Page  376 876 THI VISION OF DON RODEBICK Then, burst were honour's oath, and friendship's tiersl le clutch'd his vulture-grasp, and call'd fair Spain his pr ize. xxxVIIL An Iron Crown his anxious forehead bore; And well such diadem his heart became, Who ne'er his purpose for remorse gave o'er, Or check'd his course for piety or shame; Vho, train'd a soldier, deem'd a soldier's fame Might flourish in the wreath of battles won, Though neither truth nor honour deck'd his name; Who, placed by fortune on a Monarch's throne, Reek'd not of Monarch's faith, or Mercy's kingly tone. XXXEL From a rude isle his ruder lineage came: The spark, that, from a suburb hovel's hearth Ascending, wraps some capital in flame, Hath not a meaner or more sordid birth. And for the soul that bade him waste the earth-. The sable land-flood from some swamp obscure, That poisons the glad husband-field with dearth, And by destruction bids its fame endure, Hath not a source more sullen, stagnant, and impure. XL Before that Leader strode a shadowy Form: Her limbs like mist, her torch like meteor show'd, With which she beckon'd him through fight and storm, And all he crush'd that cross'd his desperate road, Nor thought, nor fear'd, nor look'd on what he trode; Realms could not glut his pride, blood could not slake, So oft as e'er she shook her torch abroadIt was Ambition bade his terrors wake, Nor deign'd she, as of yore, a milder form to take. XLL No longer now she spurn'd at mean revenge, Or stay'd her hand for conquer'd foeman's moan, As when, the fates of aged Rome to change, By Caesar's side she cross'd the Rubicon: Nor joy'd she to bestow the spoils she won, As when the banded powers of Greece were task'd

Page  377 TIE VISION OF DON RODERICK 3 77 To war beneath the Youth of Macedon: No seemly veil her modern minion ask'd, He saw her hideous face, and loved the fiend unmask'd, XLIL'hat Prelate mark d his march-On banners blazed With battles won in many a distant land, On eagle-standards and on arms he gaz'd; "And hop'st thou, then," he said, "thy power shall stand? O thou hast builded on the shifting sand, And thou hast temper'd it with slaughter's flood; And know, fell scourge in the Almighty's handl Gore-moisten'd trees shall perish in the bud, And, by a bloody death, shall die the Man of Bloodl" XLTL The ruthless Leader beckon'd from his train A wan fraternal Shade, and bade him kneel, And paled his temples with the crown of Spain, While trumpets rang, and heralds cried, " Castilel" Not that he loved him —Nol-in no man's weal, Scarce in his own, e'er joy'd that sullen heart; Yet round that throne he bade his warriors wheel, That the poor puppet might perform his part, And be a sceptred slave, at his stern beck to start, XLIV. But on the Natives of that Land misused, Not long the. silence of amazement hung, Nor brook'd they long their friendly faith abused, For, with a common shriek, the general tongue Exclaim'd, " To arms!" and fast to arms they sprung. And VALOUR woke, that Genius of the land!l Pleasure, and. ease, and sloth, aside he flung, As burst the awakening Nazarite his band, When'gainst his treacherous foes he clench'd his drealfai handal XLV. That mimic Monarch now cast anxious eye Upon the Satraps that begirt him round, Now doffd his royal robe in act to fly, And from his brow the diadem unbound. /,_i~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~__________ __________ ______ ___________________________________________

Page  378 378 THE VISION OF DON RODERI-' So oft, so near, the Patriot bugle wound, From Tarik's walls to Bilboa's mountains blown, These martial satellites hard labour found, To guard awhile his substituted throneLight recking of his cause, but battling for their own. XLVL From Alpuhara's peak that bugle rung, And it was echoed from Corunna's wall; Stately Seville responsive war-shout flung, Granada caught it in her Moorish hall; Galicia bade her children fight or fall, Wild Biscay shook his mountain-coronet, Valencia roused her at the battle-call, And, foremost still where Valour's sons are met, Fast started to his gun each fiery Miquelet. XLVII But unappall'd, and burning for the fight, The Invaders march, of victory secure; Skilful their force to sever or unite, And train'd alike to vanquish or endure. Nor skilful less, cheap conquest to ensure, Discord to breathe, and jealousy to sow, To quell by boasting. and by bribes to lure; While nought against them bring the unpractised foe, Save hearts for freedom's cause, and hands for fieedom's blow. XLVIIL Proudly they march-but 01 they march not forth By one hot field to crown a brief campaign, As when their eagles, sweeping through the North, Destroy'd at every stoop an ancient reign!l Far other fate had Heaven decreed for Spain; In vain the steel, in vain the torch was plied, New patriot armies started from the slain, High blazed the war, and long, and far, and wide, And oft the God of Battles blessed, the righteous side. XLIX. Nor unatoned, where Freedom's foes prevail, Remain'd their savage waste. Witth blade and brand, By day the Invaders ravaged hill and dale,

Page  379 TUHE VISION OF BON RODERICL. 379 But, with the darkness, the Guerilla band Came like night's tempest, and avenged the land, And claim'd for blood the retribution due, probed the hard heart, and lopp'd the murderous hand; And Dawn, when o'er the scene her beatas she threw, Midst ruins they had made the spoilers' corpses knew. L. What Minstrel verse may sing, or tongue may tell, Amid the vision'd strife from sea to sea, How oft the Patriot banners rose or fell, Still honour'd in defeat as victory For that sad pageant of events to be, Show'd every form of fight by field and flood; Slaughter and Ruin, shouting forth their glee, Beheld, while riding on the tempest-scud, The waters choked with slain, the earth bedrench'd witk bloodi LL Then Zaragoza-blighted be the tongue That names thy name without the honour duel For never hath the harp of minstrel rung, Of faith so fully proved, so firmly true! Mine, sap, and bomb, thy shatter'd ruins knew, Each art of war's extremity had room, Twice from thy half-sack'd streets the foe withdrew, And when at length stern Fate decreed thy doom, They won not Zaragoza, but her children's bloody tomb. LIL Yet raise thy head, sad City! Though in chains, Enthrall'd thou canst not be! Arise and claim Reverence from every heart where Freedom reigns, For'what thou worshippestt-thy sainted Dame, She of the Column, honour'd be her name, By all, whate'er their creed; who honour love! And like the sacred relics of the flame, That gave some martyr to the blest above, ro every loyal heart may thy sad embers prove! LIIL Nor tbine alone such wreck, Gerona fairl Faithful to death thy heroes should be sung,

Page  380 THE. VISION OF DoN RODBRICu. Manning the towers while o'er their heads the air Swart as the smoke from raging furnace hung; Now thicker darkening where the mine was sprung. Now briefly lighten'd by the cannon's flare, Now arch'd with fire-sparks as the bomb was flung, And reddening now with conflagration's glare, While by the fatal light the foes for storm prepare. LIV. While all around was danger, strife, and fear, While the earth shook, and darken'd was the sky, And wide Destruction stunned the listening ear, Appall'd the heart, and stupified the eye,Afar was heard that thrice-repeated cry, In which old Albion's heart and tongue unite, Whene'er her soul is up and pulse beats high, Whether it hail the wine-cup or the fight, And bid each arm be strong, or bid each heart be light. LV. Don Roderick turn'd him as the shout grew loud — A varied scene the changetul vision show'd, For where the ocean mingled with the cloud, A gallant navy stemm'd the billows broad. From mast and stern St. George's symbol flow'd, Blent with the silver cross to Scotland dear; Mottling the sea their landward barges row'd, And flash'd the sun on bayonet, brand, and spear. And the wild beach return'd the seaman's jovial cheer. LVL It was a dread, yet spirit-stirring sight! The billows foam'd beneath a thousand oars, Fast as they land the red-cross ranks unite, Legions on legions brightening all the shores. Then banners rise, and cannon-signal roars, Then peals the warlike thunder of the drum, Thrills the loud fife, the trumpet-flourish pours, And patriot hopes awake, and doubts are dumb, For, bold in Freedom's cause, the bands of Ocean corael LVIL A various host they came-whose ranks display Each mode in which the warrior meets the fight,

Page  381 THE VISION OF DON RODEROJC 3I The deep battalion locks its firm array, And meditates his aim the marksman lightj Far glance the lines of sabres flashing bright, Where mounted squadrons shake the echoing mead, Lacks not artillery breathing flame and night, Nor the fleet ordnance whirl'd by rapid steed, That rivals lightning's flash in ruin and in speed. LVIIL A various host-from kindred realms they came, Brethren in arms, but rivals in renownFor yon fair bands shall merry England claim, And with their deeds of valour deck her crown. Hers their bold port, and hers their martial frown, And hers their scorn of death in freedom's cause, Their eyes of azure, and their locks of brown, And the blunt speech that bursts without a pause, freeborn thoughts, which league the Soldier with tis; Laws, LIX. A.wd 0! loved warriors of the Minstrel's land! Yonder your bonnets nod, your tartans waveS The rugged form may mark the mountain band, And harsher features, and a mien more grave; But ue'er in battle-field throbb'd heart so brave As that which beats beneath the Scottish plaid, And when the p.broch bids the battle rave, And level for the charge your arms are laid, Where lives the desperate foe, that for such onsetstaid3 LX. Hark! frcm yon stately ranks what laughter rings, Mingling wild mirth with war's stern minstrelsy, His jest while each blithe comrade round him flings, And moves to death with military glee: Boast, Erin, boast theml tameless, frank, and free, In kindness warm, and fierce in danger known, Rough Nature's children, humorous as she; And HE, yon Chieftain-strike the proudest tone Of thy bold harp, green Isle!-the Hero is thine own. LXL Now on the scene Vimeira should be shown, On Talavera's fight should Roderick gaze, 84 f~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Page  382 THE VISION.0 DON RODERIC. And hear Cordnna wail her battle won, And see Busaco's crest with lightning blaae:-. But shall fond fable mix with heroes' praise? Hath Fiction's stage for Truth's long triumphs rooml I And dare her wild-flowers mingle with the bays, That claim a long eternity to bloom Around the warrior's crest, and o'er the warrior's tombl LXIL Or may I give adventurous Fancy scope, And stretch a bold hand to the awful veil That hides futurity from anxious hope, Bidding beyond it scenes of glory hail, And painting Europe rousing at the tale Of Spain's invaders from her confines hurl'd, While kindling Nations buckle on their mail, And Fame, with clarion-blast and wings unfurl'd To freedom and revenge awakes an injured World. IMIL O vain, though anxious, is the glance I cast, Since Fate has mark'd futurity her own:Yet Fate resigns to Worth the glorious past, The deeds recorded and the laurels won. Then, though the vault of Destiny be gone, King, Prelate, all the phantasms of my brain, Melted away like mist-wreaths in the sun, Yet grant for faith, for valour, and' for Spain, One note of pride and fire, a Patriot's parting strain. CONCLUSION. L " Who shall command Estrella's mountain-tide Back to the source, when tempest-chafed, to hiet Who, when Gascogne's vexed gulf is raging wide, Shall hush it as a nurse her infant's cry? His magic power let such vain boaster try, And when the torrent shall his voice obey, And Biscay's whirlwinds list his lullaby, Let him stand forth and bar mine eagles' way, And they shall heed his voice, and at his bidding stay.

Page  383 THEn VISION OF DON RODERIO.I 3i3 IL "Else, ne'er to stoop, till high on Lisbon's towers They close their wings, the symbol of our yoke, And their own sea hath whelm'd yon red-crossPowcr --- IThus, on the summit of Alverca's rock, To Marshal, Duke, and Peer, Gaul's leader spoke. W hile downward on the land his legions press Befbre them it was rich with vine and flock, And smiled like Eden in her summer dress; — Behind their wasteful march, a reeking wilderness. IIL And shall the boastful Chief maintain his word,'1 bllough Heaven hath heard the wailings of the land, Though Lusitania whet her vengeful sword, Though Britons arm, and Wellington commanda No: grimJBusaco's iron ridge shall stand An adamantine barrier to his forcel And from its base shall wheel his shatter'd band, As fiom the unshaken rock the torrent hoarse Bears off its broken waves, and seeks a devious course. IV. Yet not because Alcoba's mountain-hawk i ath on his best' and bravest made her food, In numbers confident, yon Chief shall baulk lHis Lord's imperial thirst for spoil and blood: For full in view the promised conquest stood, And Lisbon's matrons, from their walls, might sum The myriads that had half the world subdued, And hear the distant thunders of the drum, That bids the band of EJrance to storm and havoc comr. V. Four moons have heard these thunders idly roll'd, Hlave seen these wistful myriads eye their prey, As famish'd wolves survey a guarded fold — But in the middle path, a Lion lay! At length they move-hbut not to battle-fray, Nor blaze yon fires where meets the manly fight; Beacons of infamy, they light the way, Where cowardice and cruelty unite, To damn with double shame their ignominious flight,

Page  384 894 rlBHE VISION OF DON RODERICIL VL O triumph for the Fiends of Lust and wrath! Ne'er to be told, yet ne'er to be forgot, What wanton horrors mark'd their wrackfill pathl The peasant butcher'd in his ruin'd cot, The hoary priest even at the altar shot, Childhood and age given o'er to sword and flame, Woman to infamy; no crime forgot, By which inventive deemons might proclaim Immortal hate to Man, and scorn ot God's great namel VII The rudest sentinel, in Britain born, With horror paused to view the havoc done, Gave his poor crust to feed some wretch forlorn, Wiped his stern eye, then fiercer grasp'd his gun. Nor with less zeal shall Britain's peaceful son Exult the debt of sympathy to pay; Riches nor poverty the tax shall shun, Nor prince nor peer, the wealthy nor the gay, Nor the poor peasant's mite, nor bard's more worthless lay, VIIE But thou-unfoughten wilt thou yield to Fate, Minion of Fortune, now miscall'd in vain Can vantage-ground no confidence create, Alarcella's pass, nor Guarda's mountain chain? Vain-glorious Fugitive! yet turn again! Behold, where, named by some Prophetic Seer, Flows Honour's Fountain, as fore-doom'd the stain From thy dishonour'd name and arms to clearFallen Child of Fortune, turn, redeem her favour here! IX. Yet, ere thou turn'st, collect each distant aid: Those chieifthat never heard the Lion roarl Within whose souls lives not a trace portray'd, Of Talavera, or Mondego's shorel Marshal each band thou hast, and summon more; Of war's fell stratagems exhaust the whole; Rank upon rank, squadron on squadron pour, Legion on iegion on thy foeman roll, An3 weary out his arm-thou canst not quell his soul

Page  385 TUE VIS1ON OP DON RODERIOK. 385 0) vainly gleams with steel Agueda's shore, Vainly thy squadrons hide Assuava's plain, And front the flying thunders as they roar, With frantic charge and tenfold odds, in vain! And what avails thee that, for Cameron slain, Wild from hit plaided ranks the yell was given-.. Vengeance and grief gave mountain rage the rein, And, at the bloody spear.point headlong driven, The Despot's giant guards fled like the rack of heaven. XI. Go, baffled Boaster! teach thy haughty mood To plead at thine imperious master's throne! Say, thou hast left his legions in their blood, Deceived his hopes, and frustrated thine own; Say, that thine utmost skill and valour shown By British skill and valour were outvied; Last say, thy conqueror was Wellington! And if he chafe, be his own fortune triedGod and our cause to friend, the venture we'll abide. XIL But ye, theheroes of that well-fought day, How shall a bard, unknowing and unknown Iis meed to each victorious leader pay, Or bind on every brow the laurels won? Iet fain my harp would wake its boldest tone, O'er the wide sea to hail Cadogan brave; And he, perchance, the minstrel note might own, Mindful of meeting brief that Fortune gave Mid you far western isles, that hear the Atlantic rave. XIIL Yes! hard the task, when Britons wield the sword, To give each Chief and every field its fame: tHark! Albuera thunders Beresford, And red Barossa shouts for dauntless Grsemel O for a verse of tumult and of flame, Bold as the bursting of their cannon sound, To bid the world re-echo to their fame! For never, upon gory battle-ground, With conquest's well-bought wreath were braver victor crowned!

Page  386 386 ATHE VISION OF DON RODERICST XIV. O who shall grudge him Albuera's bays, Who brought a race regenerate to the field, Roused them to emulate their fathers' praise, Temper'd their headlong rage, their courage steerl'd, And raised fair Lusitania's fallen shield, And gave nAw edge to Lusitania's sword, And taught heir sons forgotten arms to wield-. Shiver'd my harp, and burst its every chord, If it forget thy worth, victorious BeresfordI XV. Not on that bloody field of battle won, Though Gaul's proud legions roll'd like mist away, Was half his self.devoted valour shown,He gaged but life on that illustrious day; But when he toil'd those squadrons to array, Who fought like Britons in the bloody game, Sharper than Polish pike or assagay, He braved the shafts of censure and of shame, And, dearer tar than life, he pledged a soldier's fame. XVL Not be his praise o'erpass'd who strove to hide Beneath the warrior's vest affection's -wound, WThose wish, Heaven for his country's weal denied; Danger and fate he sought, but glory found. Prom clime to clime,:where'er war's trumpets sound, The wanderer went; yet, Caledonia! still Rhine was his thought in march and tented ground.; He dreamed'mid Alpine cliffs of Athole's hill, And heard in Ebro's roar his:Lyndechs lovely rill. XVIL 0 hero of a race renown'd of old, Whose wat-cry oft has waked the battle.swell, Since first distinguish'd in the onset bold, Wild sounding when the Roman rampart fell I By Wallace' side it rung the Southron's knell, Alderne, Kilsythe, and Tibber own'd its fame. Tummell's rude pass cAm of its terrors tell, But ne'er from prouder field arose the name, Than when wild Ronda ltarn'd the conquering shout of Graemel

Page  387 sTHM VOW OF D)OW RODZRIOL 387 XVII. But all too long, through seas unknown and dark, (With Spenser's parable I close my tale) By shoal and rock hath steer'd my venturous bark; And land-ward now I drive before the gale, And now the blue and distant shore I hail, And nearer now I see the port expand, And now I gladly furl my weary sail, And, as the prow light touches on the strand, stike my red-cross ag, and bind my skiff lat d

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Page  389 i 0 AK E BY TN SIX 3ATOAB.

Page  390 JOHN B. S. MORRITT) ESQ,, THE SCENE OF WHICH IS LAID IN HIS BEAUTL'I_'UbL DESES;N OF ROKEBY. IS INSCRIBED, IN TOKEN OF SINCERE FRIENDSUIIP, BY WALTER SCOTT. De,. 3Slat, 181. ADVERTISEMENT. The scene of this poem is laid at Rokeby, near Grea Bridge, in Yorkshire, and shifs to the adjacent fortress of Barnard Castle, and to other places in that vicinity. The time occupied by the action is a space of five days, three of which are supposed to elapse between the enl odf the Fifth and beginning of the Sixth Canto. The date of the supposed events is immediately sulbsequent to the great battle of Marston Moor, 3rd July, 1644. This period of public confusion has been chosen, without any purpose of combining the Fable with the Military or Political events of the Civil War, but only as affording a degree of probability to the fictitious narrative bow presented to the Public.

Page  391 ROKE.BY. CANTO FIPST. ZMe Moon is in her summer glow, But hoarse and high the breezes blow, And, racking o'er her face, the cloud Varies the tincture of her shroud; On Barnard's towers, and Tees's stream, She changes as a guilty dream, When Conscience, with remorse and feafr Goads sleeping Fancy's wild career. Her light seems now the blush of shamq: Seems now fierce anger's darker flame, Shifting that shade, to come and go, Like apprehension's hurried glow; Then sorrow's livery dims the air, And dies in darkness, like despair. Such varied hues the warder sees Reflected from the woodland Tees, Then from old Baliol's tower looks fortbh Sees the clouds mustering in the north, Hears, upon turret-roof and wall,. By fits the plashing rain-drop fall, Lists to the breeze's boding sound, And wraps his shaggy mantle round. IL Those towers, which in the changeful gleam Throw murky shadows on the stream,

Page  392 2ROKEB3. CANTO, Those towers of Barnard hold a guest, The emotions of whose troubl'd breast In wild and strange confusion driven, Rival the flitting rack of heaven. Ere sleep stern OSWALD'S senses tied, Oft had he changed he chaned his weary side, Compos'd his limbs and vainly sought By effort strong to banish thought. Sleep came at length, but with a train Of feelings true and fancies vain, Mingling, in wild disorder cast, The expected future with the past. Conscience, anticipating time, Already rues the enacted crime, And calls her furies forth, to shake The sounding scourge and hissing snake; While her poor victim's outward throes Bear witness to his mental woes, And show what lesson may be read Beside a sinner's restless bed, IIL Thus Oswald's labouring feelings trace Strange changes in his sleeping face, Rapid and ominous as these With which the moonbeams tinge the Tees There might be seen of shame the blush, There anger's dark and fiercer flush, While the perturbed sleeper's hand Seem'd grasping dagger-knifi, or brand. Relax'd that grasp, the heavy sigh, The tear in the half -opening eye, The pallid cheek and brow confess'd That grief was busy in his breast; Nor paus'd that mood-a sudden start Impell'd the life-blood from the heart: Features convuls'd, and mutterings dread, Show terror reigns in sorrow's stead. That pang the painful slumber broke, And Oswald with a start awoke. IV. He woke, and fear'd again to close His eyelids in such dire i'epose;

Page  393 CANTO L ROKEBY. 393. He woke, —to watch the lamp, and tell From hour to hour the castle-bell. Or listen to the owlet's cry, Or the sad breeze that whistles by, Or catch, by fits, the tuneless rhyme With which the warder cheats the time, And envying think, how, when the sun Bids the poor soldier's watch be done, Couchlq on his straw, and fancy-free. He sleeps like careless infancy. V. Far town-ward sounds a distant tread, And Oswald, starting from his bed, Hath caught it, though no human ear, Unsharpen'd by revenge and fear, Could e'er distinguish horse's clank, Until it reach'd the castle bank. Now nigh and plain the sound appears, The warder's challenge now he hears,, Then clanking chains and levers tell. That o'er the moat the drawbridge fell, And, in the castle court below, Voices are heard, and torches glo'w, As marshalling the stranger's way, Straight for the room where Oswald lay, The cry was,-" Tidings from the host, Of weight-a messenger comes post." Stifling the tumult of his breast, His answer Oswald thus express'd"Bring food and wine, and trim the fire; Admit the stranger and retire." VI. The stranger came with heavy stride, The morion's plumes his visage hide, And the buff-coat, an ample fold, Mantles his form's gigantic mould. Full slender answer deigned he To Oswald's anxious courtesy, But mark'd, by a disdainful smile, He saw and scorn'd the petty wile, When Oswald chang'd the torch's place 85

Page  394 RO94 EBY. CANTO) L Anxious that on the soldier's face Its partial lustre might be thrown, To show his looks,.yet: hide his own. His guest, the while, laid low aside The ponderous cloak of tough bull's hide, And to the torh: glane'd broad and clear The corslet of a cuirassier; Then from his brows the casque he drew, And from the dank plume dash'd the dew,, From gloves of mail reliev'd his hands, And spread them to the kindling brands. And, turning to the genial board, Without a health, or pledge, or word Of meet and social reverence.said, Deeply he drank, and fiercely fed; As free from ceremony's sway, As famish'd wolf that tears his preyv VIL With deep impatience, tinged with fears His host beheld him gorge his cheer, And quaff the full carouse, that lent His brow a, fiercer hardiment. Now Oswald stood a space aside; Now pac'd the room with hasty stride, In feverish agony to learn Tidings of deep and dread concern; Cursing each moment that his guest Protracted o'er his ruffian feast, Yet viewing with alarm, at last, The end of that uncouth repast, Almost he seem'd their haste to rum As, at his sign, his train withdrew, And left him with the stranger, free To question of his mystery. Then did his silence long proclaim A struggle between fear and shame. VIIL Much in the stranger's mien appears, To justify suspicious fears. On his dark face a scorching clime,.And toil, had done the work of time,

Page  395 4~ATO T. MtORE:BT. 395 Roughen'd the brow, the temples bar'd, And sable hairs with silver shar'd, Yet left-what age alone could tameThe lip of pride, the eye of flame; The full-drawn lip -that; upward curl'd, The eye, that seem'd to scorn the world. That lip had terror never blench'd; Ne'er in that eye hath tear-drop queniifd' The flash severe of swarthy glow, That mock'd at pain, and knew not woe. Tnur'd to danger's direst. form, Tornade and earthquake, flood and stornr Death had he s enby sudden blow, By wasting plague, by tortures slow, By mine or breach, by steel or ball, Knew all his shapes, and scorn'd them all Ix. But yet, thodgh BERTrIAxa'S harden'd look Unmoved could blood and danger brook, Still worse than apathy had place On his swart brow and callous face; For evil passions,. cherish'd long, Had plough'd them with impression strorn All that gives gloss to sin, all gay Light folly, past with youth away, But rooted stood, in manhood's hour, The weeds of vice without their flower. And yet the soil in which they grew, Had it been tam'd when life was new, Had depth and vigour to bring forth The hardier fruits of virtuous worth. Not that, e'en then, his -heart had known The gentler feelings' kindly tonei But lavish waste had been refin'd To bounty in his chasten'd mind, And lust of gold, that: waste to feed, Been lost in love of glory's meed, And, frantic then no more, his pride HIad ta'en fair virtue for its guide. Even now, by conscience unrestrain'd, Clogg'd by- gross vice, by slaughter staild'd,

Page  396 Still knew his daring soul to soar, And mastery o'er the mind he bore; For meaner guilt, or heart less hard, Quail'd beneath Bertram's bold regardL, And this felt Oswald, while in vain He strove, by many a winding train, To lure his sullen guest to show, Unask'd, the news he long'd to know, While on far other subject hung His heart, than falter'd from his tongue, Yet nought for that his guest did deign To note or spare his secret pain, But still, in stern and stubborn sort, Return'd him answer dark and short Or started from. the theme, to range, In loose digression wild and strange, And forc'd the embarrass'd host to buy,, By query close, direct reply. XL A while he gloz'd upon the cause Of Commons, Covenant, and Laws, And Church Reform'd-but felt rebuke Beneath grim Bertram's sneering look, Then stammer'd —" Has- a field been foubuht, Has Bertram news of battle brought? For sure a soldier, famed so far In foreign fields for feats of war, On eve of fight ne'er left the host, Until the field were won and lost."-. H Eere, in your towers by circling Tees, You, Oswald Wycliffe, rest at ease; Why deem it strange that others come To share such safe and easy home, From fields where danger, death and toil Are the reward of civil. broil.?""Nay, mock not, friend! since well we knowv The near advances of the foe, To mar our northern army's work, Encamp'd before.beleaguer'd York; Thy horse with valiant Fairfax lay, And must have fought-how went the day?'-. XIL "Wouldst hear the tale?-On Marston heaath Met, front to front, the ranks of death;

Page  397 CANTo L ROIxEDY. 397 Flourish'd the trumpets fierce, and now Fir'd was each eye,;and flush'd each brow; On either side loud clamours ring,' God and the Causel'-' God and the Kingr' Right English all, they rush'd to blows, With nought to win, and all to lose. I could lhave laugh'd-but lack'd the time — To see, in phrenesy sublime, HIow -the fierce zealots fought and bled, For king or state, as humour led, Some for a dream of public good, Some for the church-tippet, gown and hood, Draining their veins, in death to claim A patriot's or a martyr's nameLed Bertram Risingham the hearts, That counter'd there on adverse parts, No superstitious fool had I Sought El Dorados in the sky! Chili had heard me through her states, And Lima op'd her silver gates, Rich Mexico I had march'd through, And sack'd the splendours of Peru, Till sunk Pizarro's daring name, And, Cortez, thine, in Bertram's fame." — "Still from the purpose wilt thou strayl Good gentle friiend, how went the day?" XIIL "Good am I deem'd at trumpet-sound, And good where goblets dance the round, Though gentle ne'er was join'd, till now, With rugged Bertram's breast and brow.But I resume. The battle's rage Was like the strife which currents wage, Where Orinoco, in his pride,'Rolls to the main no tribute tide, But'gainst broad ocean urges far A rival sea of roaring war; While, in ten thousand eddies driven, The billows fling'their foam to heaven, And the pale pilot seeks in vain, Where rolls the river, where the maUi Even thus upon the bloody field, The eddying tides of conflict wheel'd Ambiguous, till that heart of flame, Hot Rupert, on our squadrons came, i 353

Page  398 $98 sROKuEBnr CA'.e II Hurling against our spears a- line: Of gallants, fiery as their wine: Then ours, though stubborn ial their zeal, In zeal's despite began to reel. What wouldst thou more? —in. tumult tost, Our le.lers fell, our ranks were lost. A thousand men. who drew the sword For both the Houses and the Word, Preach'd forth from hamlet, grange, and dow;., To curb the crosier and the crown, Now, stark and stiff, lie stretch'd in gore, And ne'er shall rail at mitre more.Thus far'd it, when I left the fight, With the good Cause and Commons' right" — xIV.' Disastrous news!" dark Wycliffe said; Assum'd despondence bent his head, While troubl'd joy was in his eye, The well-feign'd sorrow to belie."Disastrous news!-when needed most, Told ye not that your chiefs were lost? Complete the woful tale, and say, Who fell upon that fatal day; What leaders of repute and name Bought by their death a deathless fame, If such my direst foeman's doom, My tears shall dew -his honour'd tomb — No answer?-Friend, of all our host, Thou know'st whom I should hate the most, Whom-thou too, once, wert wont to hate, Yet leav'st me doubtful of his fate."With look unmov'd, —" Of friend or foe. Aught," answer'd Bertram, "woaldst thou knoy Demand in simple terms and plain, A soldier's answer shalt thou gain; For question dark, or riddle high, I have not judgment nor reply." xv. The wrath his art and fear suppress'd, Now blaz'd at once in Wycliffe's breast; And brave, from man so meanly born, Rous'd his hereditary scorn.

Page  399 CANTO L ROKEBY. " Wretchl hast thou paid thy bloody debt? PHILIP OF MORTHAM, lives he yet? False to thy patron or thine oath, Trait'rous or perjur'd, one or both. Slavel hast thou kept thy promise plight, To slay tlfy leader in the fight?" Then from his seat the soldier sprung, And Wycliffe's hand he strongly wrung; His grasp, as hard as glove of mail, Forc'd the red blood-drop from the nail — " A healthl" he cried; and, ere he quaff'd, Flung from him Wycliffe's hand, and laugh'd: -" Now, Oswald Wycliffe, speaks thy heartl Now play'st thou well thy genuine partl Worthy, but for thy craven fear, Like me to roam a bucanier. What reck'st thou of the Cause divine, If Mortham's wealth and lands be thine? What car'st thou for beleaguer'd York, If this good hand have done its work? Or what though Fairfax and his best Are reddening Marston's swarthy breast. If Philip Mortham with them lie, Lending his life-blood to the dye? — Sit, then! and as'mid comrades free Carousing after victory, When tales are told of blood and fear, That boys and women shrink to hear From point to point I frankly tell The deed of death as it befell XLVL " When purpos'd vengeance I forego, Term me a wretch, nor deem me foi; And when an insult I forgive, Then brand me -as a slave, and livel — Philip of Mortham is with those Whom Bertram Risingham calls foes; Or whom more sure revenge attends, If number'd with ungrateful friends. As was his wont, ere battle glow'd, Along the marshall'd ranks he rode, And wore his visor up the while. I saw his melancholy smile, When, full oppos'd in front, he knew Where RoxEBY'S kindred banner flew

Page  400 400 ROKEBY, CANTO I' And thus,' he said,'will friends divide!' — I heard, and thought how, side by side, We two had turn'd the battle's tide, In many a well-debated field, Where Bertram's breast was Philip's shield. I thought on Darien's deserts pale, Where death bestrides the evening gale, How o'er my friend my cloak I threw, And fenceless fae'd the deadly dew; I thought on Quariana's cliff, Where, rescu'd from our foundering skiff, Through the white breakers' wrath I bore Exhausted Mortham to the shore; And when his side an arrow found, I su'ck'd the Indian's venom'd wound. These thoughts like torrents rush'd along, To sweep away my purpose strong. XVIH. "Hearts are not flint, and flints are rent; Hearts are not steel, and steel is bent. When Mortham bade me, as of yore, Be near him in the battle's roar, I scarcely saw the spears laid low, I scarcely heard the trumpets blow; Lost was the war in inward sirifb, Debating Mortham's death or life.'Twas then I thought, how, lur'd to come, As partner of his wealth and home, Years of piratic wandering o'er, FWith him I sought our native shore. But Mortham's lord grew far estrang'd From the bold heart with whom he rang'd; Doubts, horrors, superstitious fears, Sadden'd and dimm'd descending years;.'Ihe wily priests their victim sought, And damn'd each free-born deed and thought. Then must I seek another home, AMy license shook his sober dome; II gold he gave, in one wild day 1 revell'd thrice the sum away. An idle outcast then I stray'd, Unfit for tillage or for trade. Deem'd, like the steel of rusted lance, Useless and dangerous at once.

Page  401 CANTO L ROKEBY. 401 The women fear'd my hardy look, At my approach the peaceful shook; The merchant saw my glance of flame, And lock'd his hoards when Bertramn came; Each child of coward peace kept far From the neglected son of war. XVIIL "But civil discord gave the call, And made my trade the trade of all. By Mortham urg'd, I came again His vassals to the fight to train. What guerdon waited on my care? I could not cant of creed or prayer; Sour fanatics each trust obtain'd, And I, dishonour'd and disdain'd, Gain'd but the high and happy lot, In these poor arms to front the shot -- All this thou know'st, thy gestures tell; Yet hear it o'er, and mark it well'Tis honour bids me now relate Each circumstance of Mortham's fate. XIX. "Thoughts, from the tongue that slowly part, Glance quick as lightning through the heart. As my spur press'd my courser's side, Philip of Morthames cause was tried, And, ere the charging squadrons mix'd, His plea was cast, his doom was filxd. I watch'd him through the: doubtftl fray, That chang'd as March's moody day, Till, like a stream that bursts its bank, Fierce Rupert thunder'd on our flank.'Twas then, midst tumult, smoke, and strife., Where each man fought for death or life,'Twas then I fir'd my petronel, And Mortham, steed and rider, fell One dying look he upward cast, Of wrath and anguish-'twas his last. Think not that there I stopp'd to view What of the battle should ensue; But ere I clear'd that bloody press, Our northern horse ran masterless; I. _ _.__...________ __ ______________

Page  402 4092 ROXEIl. CAilTu J. Monckton and Mitton told the news, How troops and roundheads chok'd tile Ouse, And mllany a bonny Scot, aghast, Spurring his palfrey northward, past, Cursing the day when zeal or meed First lur'd their Lesley o'er the Tweed. Yet when I reached the banks of Swale, Had rumour learned another tale; With his barb'd horse, fresh tidings say, Stout Cromwell has redeem'd the day; But whether false the news, or true, Oswald, I reck as light as you." XX. Not then by Wycliffe might be shown, How his pride startled at the tone In which his complice, fierce and free, Asserted guilt's equality. In smoothest terms his speech he wove, Of endless friendship, faith, and love; Promis'd and vowed in courteous sort, But Bertram broke professions short: " Wycliffe, be sure not here I stay, No, scarcely till the rising day; Warn'd by the legends of my youth, I trust not an associate's truth. Do not my native dales prolong Of Percy Rede the tragic song,'rain'd forward to his bloody fall, By Girsonfield, that treach'rous Hall? Oft, by the Pringle's haunted side, The shepherd sees his spectre glide. And near the spot that gave me name, The moated mound of Risingham, Where Reed upon her margin sees Sweet Woodburne's cottages and trees, Some ancient sculptor's art has shown An outlaw's image on the stone; Unmatch'd in strength, a giant he, With quiver'd back, and kirtled knee. Ask how he died, that hunter bold, The tameless monarch of the wold, And age and infancy can tell, By brother's treachery he fell. Thus warned by legends of my youth, I trust to no associate's truth,

Page  403 XXI. "When last we reason'd of this deed, Nought, I bethink me,was agreed, Or by what rule, or when, or where, The wealth of Mortham we should sharej Then list, while I the portion name, Our differing laws give each toclaim, Thou, vassal sworn to England's throne, Her rules of heritage must own; They deal thee, as to nearest heir, Thy kinsman's lands and livings fair, And these I yield:-do thou revere The statutes of the Bucanier. Friend to the sea, and foeman sworn To all that -on her waves are borne, When falls a mate in battle broil, His comrade heirs his portion'd spoil; When dies in fight a daring foe, He claims his wealth who struck the blows And either rule to me assigns rihose spoils of Indian seas and mines, Hoarded in Mortham's caverns dark; Ingot of gold and diamond spark, Chalice and plate from churches borne, And gems from shrieking beauty torn, Each string of pearl, each silver bar, And all the wealth of western war. I go to search, where, dark and deep, Those Trans-atlantic treasures sleep. Thou must along-ior, lacking thee, The heir will scarce find entrance free; And then farewell. I haste to try Each varied pleasure wealth can buy; When cloy'd each wish, these wars afford Fresh work for Bertram's restless sword." XXIL An undecided answer hung On Oswald's hesitating tongue. Despite his craft, he heard with awve This ruffian stabber fix the law; While his own troubled passions veer Through hatred, joy, regret, and fear:Joy'd at the soul that Bertram flies, le grudg'd the murderer's mighty?rue,

Page  404 Hated his pride's presumptuous toner And fear'd to wend with him alone. At length, that middle eourse to steer, To cowardice and craft so dear, ~'His charge, he said, "would ill allow His absence from the fortress now; WIL&FRID on Bertram should attend, His son should journey with his firiendkW XXIIL Contempt kept Bertram's anger down, And wreath'd to savage smile his frown " Wilfrid, or thou-'tis one to me, Whichever bears the golden key. Yet think not but I mark, and smile To mark, thy poor and selfish wile! If injury from me you fear, What, Oswald Wycliffe, shields thee here I've sprung from walls more high than these I've swam through deeper streams than T'l'ee Might I not stab. thee ere one yell Could rouse the distant sentinel? Start not-it is not my design, But, if it were, weak fence were thine.; And, trust me, that, in time of need, This hand hath done more desperate deedc Go, haste and rouse thy slumbering son; Time calls, and I must needs be gone.".XIV, Nought of his sire's ungenerous part Polluted Wilfrid's gentle heart; A heart too soft from early life To hold with fortune needful strife. His sire, while yet a hardier race Of numerous sons were Wycliffe's graem On Wilfrid set contemptuous. brand, For feeble heart and forceless hand; But a fond mother's care and joy Were -entred in her sickly boy. No touch of childhood's frolic mood; Show'd the elastic spring of blood; Hour after hour he lov'd to pore On Shakspeare's rich and varied lore,

Page  405 But tuited from martial scenes and ight From Falstaff's feast and Percy's fight, To ponder Jacqueashnoral strain, And muse with Hamlet, wise in vain; And weep himself to soft repose O)'er gentle Desdemona's woes. EXX.V. In youth he sought not pleasures found By youth in horse, and hawk, and hound, But loved the quiet joys that wake By lonely stream and silent lake; in Deepdale's solitude to lie, Where all is cliff and copse and sky; To climb Oatcastle's dizzy peak, -Or lone Pendragon's mound to seek. Such was he wont; and there his dream Soar'd on -some wild fantastic theme, Of faithful love, or ceaseless spring, Till Contemplation's wearied wing The enthusiast could no more sustain, And sad he sunk to earth again. XXVL HIe lov'd —as many a lay can tell, Preserved in Stanmore's lonely dell. For his was minstrels skill, he caught The art unteahable, untaught; lIe lov'd-his soul did nature frame For love, and fancy nursed the flame; Vainly he lov'd-for seldom swain Of such soft mould is lov'd again; Silent he lov'd —n every gaze WVas passion, friendship in his phrase. So mus'd his life away-till died HIis brethren all, their father's pride. Wilfrid is now the only heir.Of all his stratagems and care, And destin'd, darkling, to pursue Ambition's maze by Oswald's clue. XXVIL Wiilfrid mutst love and woo the brigh; liatda.i herof Bokeby's knigthL..~a;

Page  406 l -tw" nROKEB. iAn?(O;L To love her was an easy host; The secret empress of his breast;-. To woo her was a harder task To one that durst not hope or ask, Yet all Matilda could, she gave In pity to her gentle slave; Friendship, esteem, and fair regard, And praise, the poet's best reward! She read the tales his taste approved. And sung the lays he framed or loved. Yet, loth to nurse the fatal flame Of hopeless love in friendship's name, In kind caprice she oft withdrew The favouring glance to friendship due, Then griev'd to see her victim's pain, And gave the dangerous smiles again. XXVIIL So did the suit of Wilfrid stand, When war's loud summons wak'd the land. Three banners, floating. o'r the Tees, The wo-foreboding peasant sees; In concert oft they brav'd of old The bordering Scot's incursion boldt Frowning defiance in their pride, Their vassals now and lords divide., ZFromhis fair hall an Greta banks, The Knight of Rokeby led his ranks,. To aid' the valiant northern Earls Who drew the sword for Royal Charles Mortham, by marriage near allied,His sister had been Rokeby's bride, Though long before the civil fray, In peaceful grave the lady lay. — Philip of Mortham raised his band, And march'd at Fairfkaxs- command; While Wycliffe, bound by many a train Of kindred art with wily Vane, I ess prompt to brave the bloody field, Made Barnard's battlements his shield. Secur'd them with the Lunedale powers And for the Commons held the towers. XXIX. The lovely heir of Rokeby's Knight, Waits in the halls the event. of. fiht;,

Page  407 Q, NrO I. ROKEBY, 407 For England's war rever'd the claim Of every unprotected name, And spar'd amid its fiercest rage, Childhood and womanhood and age. But Wilfrid, son to Rokeby's foe, Must the dear privilege forego, By Greta's side, in evening grey, To steal upon i' atilda's way, Striving, with fond hypocrisy, For careless step and vacant eye; Calming each anxious look and glance, To give the meeting all to chance, Or framing as a fair excuse, The book, the pencil, or the muse; Something to give, to sing, to say, Some modern tale, some ancient lay. Then, while the long'd.-for minutes last, — Alh! minutes quickly over-pastl — Recording each expression free, Of kind or careless courtesy, Each friendly look, each softer tone, As food for fancy when alone. All this is o'er-but still, unseen, Wilfrid may lurk in Eastwood green, To watch Matilda's wonte l round, While springs his heart at every sound. She comesl —'tis but a passing sight, Yet serves to cheat his weary night; She comes not —He will wait the hour, When her lamp lightens in the tower;''Tia something yet, if, as she past, Her shade is o'er the lattice cast. " What is my life, my hope?" he said, "Alasl a transitory shade." XXX, Thus wore his life, though reason stdicv For mastery in vain with love, Forcing upon his thoughts the sum Of present woe and ills to come, While still he turned'impatient ear From Truth's intrusive voice severe. Gentle, indifferent, and subdued, In all but this, unmov'd he viewed

Page  408 408 ROKEBY. bAN'TO L Each outward change of ill and good: But Wilfrid, docile, soft, and mild, Was Fancy's spoiled and wayward childA In her bright car she bade him ride, With one fair form to grace his side, Or, in some wild and lone retreat, Flung her high spells around his seat, Bath'd in her dews his languid head, Her fairy mantle o'er him spread, For him her opiates gave to flow, Which he who tastes, can ne'er forego, And plac'd him in her circle, free From every stern reality. Till, to the Visionary, seem Her day-dreams truth, and truth a dream. XXXL Woe to the youth, whom Fancy gains, Winning from Reason's hand the reins; Pity and woe! for such a mind Is soft,contemplative, and kind; And woe to those who train such youth, And spare to press the rights of truth, The mind to strengthen and anneal, While on the stithy glon s the steell O teach him, while your lessons last To judge the present by the past; Remind him of each wish pursued, How rich it glow'd with promised good. Remind him of each wish enjoyed, HIow soon his hopes possession cloyed! Tell him, we play unequal game, Whene'er we shoot by Fancy's aim! And, ere he strip him for her race, Show the conditions of the chase. Two sisters by the goal are set, Cold Disappointment and Regret; One disenchants the winner's eyes, And strips of all its worth the prize. While one augments its gaudy show More to enh~ance the loser's woe. The victor sees his fairy gold, Transform'd, when won, to drossy mould, But still the vanquish'd mourns his loss, And rues, as gold, that glittering dross

Page  409 CANTO I. OKEBY. 409 More wouldst thou know-yon tower urvey, Yon couch unpress'd since parting day, Yon untrimm'd lamp, whose yellow gleam, Is mingling with the cold moonbeam, And yon thin forml —the hectic red On his pale cheek unequal spread; The head reclin'd, the loosen'd hair, The limbs relax'd, the mournful air. — See, he looks up; —a woful smile Lightens his wo-worn cheek a while,-'Tis fancy wakes some idle thought, To gild the ruin she has wrought; For, like the bat of Indian brakes, Her pinions fan the wound she makes, And soothing thus the dreamer's pain, She drinks his life-blood from the vein Now to the lattice turn his eyes, Vain hope! to see the sun arise. The moon with clouds is still o'ercast; Still howls by fits the stormy blast; Another hour must wear away, Ere the East kindle into day; And hark to waste that weary hour, He tries the minstrel's magic power. XXXIL SONG. To the Moon. Hail to thy cold and clouded beam, Pale pilgrim of the troubled Lkyl Hail, though the mists that o'er thee stream Lend to thy brow their sullen dye! How should thy pure and peaceful eye Untroubled view our scenes below, Or how atearless beam supply To light a world of war and wol Fair Queen! I will not blame thee now, As once by Greta's fairy side; Each little cloud that dimmn's thy brow Did then an angel's beauty hide. 36*

Page  410 ROKEBY. CANTO IL And of the shades I then could chide, Still are the thoughts to mem'ry dear, For, while a softer strain I tried, They hid my blush, and calm'd my fear Then did I swear thy ray serene Was formed to light some lonely dell, By two fond lovers only seen, Reflected from the crystal well, Or sleeping on their mossy cell, Or quivering on the lattice bright, Or glancing on their couch, to tell low swiftly wanes the summer night! XXXIV. He starts —a step at this lone hourl A voice! —his father seeks the tower, With haggard look and troubled sense, Fresh from his dreadful conference. "Wilfridl-what, not to sleep address'd? Thou hast no cares to chase thy rest. Mortham has fallen on Marston-moor: Bertram brings warrant to secure Hils treasures, bought by spoil and blood, For the state's use and public good. The menials will thy voice obey; Let his commission have its way, In every point, in every word." — Then, in a whisper,-" Take thy swordl Bertram is-what I must not tell. I hear his hasty step-farewelll" CANTO SECOND. FAR in the chambers of the west, The gale had sighed itself to rest; The moon was cloudless now and clewr But pale, and soon to disappear.

Page  411 .ANTO jr. ROKEn. 4 The thin grey clouds wax dimly light On Brusleton and Houghton height; And the rich dale, that eastward lay, Waked the wakening touch of day, To give its woods and cultur'd plain, And towers and spires, to light again. But, westward, Stanmore's shapeless swell, And Lunedale wild, and Kelton-feIll And rock-begirdled Gilmanscar,. And Arkingarth, lay dark afar; While, as a livelier twilight falls, Emerge proud Barnard's banner'd walls High crown'd he sits, in dawning pale, The sovereign of the lovely vale. IL What prospects, from the watch-tower high, Gleam gradual on the warder's eyel Far sweeping to the east, he sees Down his deep woods the course of Tees, And tracks his wanderings by the steam Of summer vapours from the stream; And ere he pace his destin'd hour By Brackenbury's dungeon-tower, These silver mnists shall melt away, And dew the woods with glitt'ring spray. Then in broad lustre shall be shlown That mighty trench of living stone, And each huge trunk that, fiom the side, Reclines him o'er the darksome tide, Where Tees, full many a fathom low, Wears with his rage no common foe; For pebbly bank, nor sand-bed here, Nor clay-mound, checks his fierce career. Condemn'd to mine a channell'd way, O'er solid sheets of marble grey. ILL Nor Tees alone, in dawning bright, Shall rush upon the ravish'd sight; But many a tributary stream Each from its own dark dell shall glearm, Staindrop, who, from her silvan bowers Saiutes proud Raby's battled towers.

Page  412 412 BOKEBY. CANTO. The rural brook of Egliston, AndBalder, nam'd from Odin's son; And Greta, to whose banks ere long We lead the lovers of the song; And silver Lune, from Stanmore wild, And fairy Thorsgill's murm'ring child, And last and least, but loveliest still, Romantic l)eepdale's slender rilL Who in that dim-wood glen hath stray'd, Yet long'd for Roslin's magic glade? Who wand'ring there, hath sought to changs ]Ev'n for that vale so stern and strange, Where Cartland's Crags, fantastic'rent, Through her green copse like spires are sentI Yet, Albin, yet the praise be thine, Thy scenes and story to combine! Thou bidd'st him, who by Roslin strays, List to the deeds of other days;'Mid Cartland's Crags thou show'st the cave, The refuge of thy champion brave; Giving each rock its storied tale, Pouring a lay for every dale, Knitting, as with a moral band, Thy native legends with thy land, To lend each scene the interest high Which genius beams from Beauty's eye. IV. Bertram awaited not the sight Which sua-rise shows from Barnard's theigh.2 But from the towers, preventing day, With Wilifid took his early way,'While misty dawn, and moonbeam pale, Still mingled in the silent dale. By Barnard's bridge of stately stone, The southern bank of Tees they won; Their winding path then eastward cast, And Egliston's grey ruins passed; Each on his own deep visions bent, Silent and sad they onward went. Well may you think that Bertram's moo, To Wilflid savage seem'd and rude; Well may you think bold Risinghamn Hield Wilfrid trival, poor, and tame; And small the intercourse, I ween, Such uncongenial souls between. ~ —- _ —-~-C —I-~I IC- III-~ -— ~C — -~ —--------------

Page  413 V. Stern Bertram shunn'd the nearer way, Through Rokeby's park and chase that lay, And, skirting high the valley's ridge, They crossed by Greta's ancient bridge. Descending where her waters wind Free for a space and unconfined, As,'scap'd from Brignall's dark-wood glee. She seeks wild Mortham's deeper den. There, as his eye glanc'd o'er the mound5 Rais'd by that Legion long renown'd, Whose votive shrine asserts their claim, Of pious, faithful, conquering fame, " Stern sons of war!" sad Wilfrid sigh'd, "Behold the boast of Roman pride! What now of all your toils are knowng A grassy trench, a broken stone "This to himself; for moral strain To Bertram were address'd in vain. VI Of different mood, a deeper sigh Awoke, when Rokeby's turrets high Were northward in the dawning seen SI o rear them o'er the thicket green. O then, though Spenser's self had stray'd Beside him through the lovely glade, Lending his rich luxuriant glow Of Fancy, all its charms to show Pointing the stream rejoicing free, As captive set at liberty, Flashing her sparkling waves abroad, And clam'ring joyful on her road; Pointing where, up the sunny banks The trees retire in scatter'd ranks, Save where, advanc'd before the rest, On knoll or hillock rears his crest, Lonely and huge, the giant oak, As champions, when their band is broke, Stand forth to guard the rearward post, The bulwark of the scatter'd hostAll this, and more, might Spenser say, Yet waste in vain his magic lay, While Wilfrid eyed the distant tower, Whose lattice lights AMatilda's bower.

Page  414 & 4 14OEIT. 3T VIL The open vale is soon pass'd o'er, Rokeby, though nigh, is seen no more} Sinking mid Greta's thickets deep, A wild and darker course they keep, A stern and lone, yet lovely road, As e'er the foot of Minstrel trode! Broad shadows o'er their passage fell, Deeper and narrower grew the dell; It seem'd some mountain rent and riven, A channel for the stream had given, So high the cliffs of limestone grey Hung beetling o'er the torrent's way, Yielding, along their rugged base, A flinty footpath's niggard space, Where he, who winds'twixt rock and wavos May hear the headlong torrent rave, And like a steed in fiantic fit, That flings the froth fiom curb and bit, Mlay view her chafe her waves to spray, O'er every rock that bats her way, Till foam-globes on her eddies ride, Thick as the schemes of human pride That down life's current drive amain, As frail, as frothy, and as vain VIII. The cliffs that rear their haughty head High o'er the river's daiksome bed, Where now all naked, wild, and grey, Now waving all with greenwood spray; Here trees to ev'ry crevice clung, And o'er the dell their branches hung; And there, all splinter'd and uneven, The shiver'd rocks ascend to heaven; Oft, too, the ivY swath'd their breast, And wreath'd its garland round their crewa Or from the spires bade loosely flare Its tendrils in the middle air, As pennons wont to wave of old O'er the high feast of Baron bold, When reveli'd loud the feudal rout, And the arch'd halls return'd their shout]t Such and more wild is Greta's roar, And such the echoes from her shori.

Page  415 j ai ro U. a BOEBY. 4l5! And so the ivied banners' gleam Waved wildly o'er the brawling stream. IX. Now from the stream the rocks recede, But leave between no sunny mead, No, nor the spot of pebbly sand, Oft found by such a mountain strand; Forming such warm and dry retreat, As fancy deems the lonely seat, Where hermit, wand'ring from his cell, His rosary might love to tell But here,'twixt rock and river, grew A dismal grove of sable yew, With whose sad tints were mingled seec The blighted fir's sepulchral green. Seem'd that the trees their shadows cast The earth that nourish'd them to blast; For never knew that swarthy grove The verdant hue that fairies love; Nor wilding green, nor woodland flowex, Arose within its baleful bower;. The dank and sable earth receives Its only carpet from the leaves, That from the with'ring branches cast, Bestrew'd the ground with every blast. Though now the sun was o'er the hill, In this dark spot'twas twilight still, Save that on Greta's farther side Some straggling beams through copsewood glit".', And wild and savage contrast made That dingle's deep and funeralshade, With the bright tints of early day, Which, glimmering through the ivy spray, On the opposing summit lay. X. The lated peasant shunn'd the dell; For Superstition wont to tell Of many a grisly sound and sight, Scaring its path at dead of night. When Christmas logs blaze high and wide, Such wonders speed the festal tide; While Curiosity and Fear, Pleasure and Pain, sit crouching near,

Page  416 416 o0EBrY. CANTO U. Till childhood's cheek no longer glows, And village maidens lose the rose. The thrilling int'rest rises higher, The circle closes nigh and nigher, I And shudd'ring glance is cast behind, As louder moans the wintry wind. Believe, that fitting scene was laid For such wild tales in Mortham glade; For who had seen, on Greta's side, By that dim light fierce Bertram stride, In such a spot, at such an hour, — If touch'd by Superstition's power, Might well have deem'd that Hell had given A murderer's ghost to upper heaven, While Wllfrid's form had seem'd to glide Like his pale victim by his side. XIL Nor think to village swains alone Are these unearthly terrors known; For not to rank nor sex confin'd Is this vain ague of the mind: Hearts firm as steel, as ma,'ble hard,'Gainst faith, and love, and pity barr'd, I-lave quak'd, like aspen leaves in May, Beneath its universal sway. Bertram had listed many a tale Of wonder in his native dale, That in his secret soul retain'd The credence they in childhood gain'd: Nor less his wild advent'rous youth Believ'd in every legend's truth; Learn'd when, beneath the tropic gale, Full swell'd the vessel's steady sail, And the broad Indian moon her light Pour'd on the watch of middle night, When seamen love to hear and tell Of portent, prodigy, and spell: What gales are sold on Lapland's shore, How whistle rash bids tempe ts roar, Of witch, of mermaid, and of sprite, Of Erick's cap and Elmo's light; Or of that Phantom Ship, whose form tShoots like a meteor through the sa ormn When the dark scud comes driving hard And lower'd is every top-sail yard,,YmWLW~-i~iC-~-Y~Q~~YeWIW~C CII — ii ~j~~U ~_T —~ i-~ —-. -— ~~r ~:~..._T-Ci~-~~_L1~~... ~.-.L1 ~C-It

Page  417 ,t4JtO fi ROaKEB 417 Anad canvass wove in eauhly looma, No more to brave the storn presum.nal Then'mid thervar of sea and sky, Top and top-gallant hoisted high, Full spread and crowded every sail, The Demon Frigate braves the gale; And well the doom'd spectators know The harbinger of wreck and woe. XILI Then, too, were-told, in stifled tone, Marvels and omens all -their own; How, by some desert isle or key, Where Spaniards wrought their cruelty, Or where the savage pirate's mood Repaid it home in deeds of blood, Strange nightly sounds of.woe and fear Appall'd the list'ning Bucanier,'Whose light-arm'd shallop anchor'd lay In ambush by the lonely bay. The groan of grief, the shriek of pain, Ring from the moonlight groves of canes The fierce advent'rer's heart they scare, Who wearies mem'ry for a prayer, Curses the road-stead, and with gale Of early morning lifts.the sail, To give, in thirst of blood and prey A legend for a another bay. XII Thus, as a man, a youth, a child Train'd in the mystic and the wild, With. this on Bertram's soul at times Rush'd a dark feeling of his crimes; Such to his troubled soul their form, As the pale Death-ship to the storm, And such their omen dim and dread, As shrieks and voices of the dead,That pang, whose transitory force Hover'd'twixt horror and remorse; That pang, perchance, his bosom press'd As Wilfrid sudden he addiess'd:"Wilfrid, this glen is never trod Until the sun rides high abroad; Yet twice have I beheld to-day A'orm, that seem'd to dog our wayS. 37

Page  418 4-18 ROKEBY. CANTO 1L Twice from my glance it seem'd to flee And shroud itself by cliff or tree. How think'st thou?-Is our path way-laid? Or hath thy sire my trust betray'd? If so"-Ere, starting from his dream, That turn'd upon a gentler theme, Wilfrid had rous'd him to reply, Bertram sprung forward, shouting high, "Whate'er thou art, thou now shalt staurl.' And forth he darted, sword in hand. XIV. As bursts the levin in its wrath, He shot him down the sounding path; Rock, wood, and stream, rang wildly out, To his loud step and savage shout. Seems that the object of his race iath scal'd the cliffs; his frantic chase Sidelong he turns, and now'tis bent Right up the rock's tall battlement; Straining each sinew to ascend, Foot, hand, and knee, their aid must len(d Wilfrid, all dizzy with dismay, Views, from beneath, his dreadful way: Now to the oak's warp'd roots he clings, Now trusts his weight to ivy strings; Now, like the wild goat, mus he dare An unsupported leap in air; Hid in the shrubby rain-course now, You mark him by the crashing bough, And by his conlet's sullen clank, And by the stones spurn'd from the bal. And by the hawk scar'd from her ntesL And ravens croaking o'er their guest Who deem his forfeit limbs shall pay The tribute of his bold essay. XV. See, he emerges —desp'rate now All farther course —Yon beetling brow, In craggy nakedness sublime, What heart or foot shall dare to climb? It bears no tendril for his clasp, Presents no angle to his grasp: Sole stay his foot may rest upon, Is yon earth-bedded jetting stone.

Page  419 e e Angu~p~u ms e 1Act bevR As to her morning task she far't;. In the void offices around, Rung not a hoof, nor bay'd a hound; Nor eager steed, with shrilling neigh, Accus'd the lagging groom's delay; Untrimm'd, undress'd, neglected now, Was alley'd walk and orchard bough All spoke the master's absent care, All spoke neglect and disrepair. South of the gate, an arrow flight, Two mighty elms their limbs unite, As if a canopy, to spread O'er the lone dwelling of the dead; For their huge boughs in arches bent Above a massive monument, Carv'd o'er in ancient Gothic wise, With many a scutcheon and device: There, spent with toil and sunk in gloom. Bertram stood pond'ring br the tomb. XVIL'It vanish'd like a flitting ghost! Behind this tomb," he said, "'twas lostThis tomb, where oft I deem'd lies stor'ca Of Mortham's Indian wealth the hoard,'Tis true, the aged servants said Here his lamented wife is laid; But weightier reasons may be guess'd For their lord's strict and stern behest, That none should on his steps intrude, Whene'er he sought this solitude.An ancient mariner I knew, What time I sail'd with Morgan's crew, Who oft,'mid our carousals, spake Of Raleigh, Forbisher, and Drake; Advent'rous hearts! who barter'd, bold, Their English steel for Spanish gold. Trust not, would his experience say, Captain or comrade with your prey; But seek some charnel, when, at ful, The moon gilds skeleton and skull; There dig, and tomb your precious hes:p, And bid the dead your treasure keep; Sure stewa' ds they, if fitting spell Their service to the task compel

Page  420 i i'~dmtano a oh selui pree:uainl t;%opl -| $ AsHe strains his grasp to reach the top. I;Just as the dang'rous stretch he makes By heav'n, his faithless footstool shakesl Beneath his tott'ring bulk it bends, It sways,-it loosens,-it descends! And downward holds its headlong way, Crashing o'er rock and copsewood sprays Loud thunders shake the echoing delil — Fell it alone?-alone it fell. Just on the very verge of fate, The hardy Bertram's falling weight ZIe trusted to his sinewy hands, And on the top unharm'd he standsl XVL Wilfrid a safer path pursued; At intervals where, roughly hew'd, Rude steps ascending from the dell Render'd the cliffs accessible, By circuit slow he thus attain'd The height that Risingham had gain'd, And when he issued from the wood, Before the gate of Mortham stood.'Twas a fair scene! the sunbeam lay i On battled tow'r and portal grey: And from the grassy slope he sees The Greta flow to meet the Tees; Where, issuing from her darksome bed, She canght the morning's eastern red, iAnd through the soft'ning vale below Roll'd her bright waves, in rosy glow, All blushing, to her bridal bed, Like some shy maid in convent bred; While linnet, lark, and blackbird gay, Sing forth her nuptial roundelay. XVIL'Twas sweetly sung that roundelay; That summer morn shone blithe and gayw ]But morning beam, and wild-bird's caU, Awak'd not Mortham's silent hall. I o porter, by the low-brow'd gate, Took in the wonted niche his seat; To the pav'd court no peasant drew; Wak'd to their toil no menial crew;

Page  421 Lacks there such charnel?-kill a slave, Or pris'ner, on the treasure grave; And. bid, his discontented ghost Stalk nightly on his lonely post.Such was his tale. Its truth, I ween s in my mornling vision seen."-= XIx. IVilfrid, who scorn'd the legend wild, In mingled mirth and pity smil'd,'Iuch marv'lli-ng that a breast so bold In such fond tale belief' should hold; But yet of Bertram sought to know'he apparition's form and show.-== the pow'r within the guilty breast, O)ft vanquish'd, never quite suppress'd, That unsubdued and lurking lies To take the felon by surprise, And force him, as by magic spell an his despite his guilt to tell,That pow'r in Bertram's breast awoke; Scarce conscious he was heard, he spoke: 1"'Twas Mortham's form, from foot to head! His morion, with the plume of red, His shape, his mien-'twas Mortham, right As when I slew him in the fight.""4Thou slay him? —thou?" —- With conscious start Hieheard, then mann'd his haughty heart"I slew him?-I!-I had forget Thou, stripling, knew'st not of the plot But it is spoken-nor will I Deed done, or spoken word, deny. K slew him; I fbor thankless pride; —'Twas by this hand that Mortham died." Wilfrid, of gentle hand and hearts Averse to every active part, But most averse to martial broil, From danger shrunk, and turn'd from toil; Yet the meek lover of the lyle Nurs'd one brave spark of noble fire; Against inustice, fraud, or wrong, Hiis blood beat high, his hand wax'd strong. Not his the nerves that could sustain Unshaken, danger. toil, and pain; 37

Page  422 22 when that spark baz'd foh to fm But, when that spark blazd forth to flame; -le rose superior to his frame. And now it came, that gen'rous moodAnd, in full current of his blood, On Bertram. he laid desp'rate-hand, Plac'd firmn his foot, and drew his. brand. "Should every fiend, to whom thou'rt sold, Rise in thine aid, I keep my hold. — Arouse there, ho! take spear and. swordl Attack the murd'rer of your Lord.l" XXL A moment, fix'd as by a spell, Stood Bertram-It seem'd miracle, That one so feeble, soft, and tame, Set grasp on warlike Risingham. But when he felt a feeble stroke, The fiend within the ruffian wokel To wrench. the sword from Wilfrid's hand, To dash him headlong on the sand, Was but one moment's work,-one more Had drench'd the blade in Wilfrid's gored But, in the instant it arose, To end his life, his love, his woes, A warlike form, that mnark'd the scenes Presents his rapier sheath'd between, Parries the fast-descending blow, And steps'twixt Wilfrid and his foeot Nor then unscabbarded his brand, But, sternly pointing with his hand, With monarch's voice forbade the fight, And motion'd Bertram from his sight. "Go, and repent," he said, "while time Is given thee; add not crime to crime." XXIL Mute, and uncertain, and amazed,, As on a vision, Bertram gazed!''Twas Mortham's bearing, bold and high, His sinewy: frame, his falcon eye, His look and accent of command, The martial gesture of his hand, His stately form, spare-built and tall, His war-bleached locks-'twas Mortham iL

Page  423 CANTO U. ROKEDYi. 423 Through Bertram's dizzy brain career A thousand thoughts, and all of fear; His wavering faith receiv'd not quite The form he saw as MAortham's sprite, But more he fear'd it, if it stood His lord, in living flesh and blood.What spectre can the charnel send, So dreadful as an injured friend? Then, too, the habic of command, Used by the leader of the band, When Risingham, for many a day, Had marched and fought beneath his sway. Tam'd him-and, with reverted face, Backwards he bore his sullen pace; Oft stopp'd, and olt on Mortham star'd, And dark as rated mastiff glar'd; But when the tramp of steeds was heard, Plung'd in the glen, and disappeared, Nor longer there the warrior stood, Retiring eastward through the wood; But first to Wilfrid warning gives, " Tell thou to none that Mortham lives." XXLIL Still rung these words in Wilfrid's ear, Hinting he knew not what of fear; When nearer came the coursers' tread, And, with his father at their head, Of horsemen arm'd a gallant power Hein'd up their steeds before the tower. " Whence these pale looks, my son?" he studi "Where's Bertram?-Why that naked blade."Wilfrid ambiguously replied, (For Mortharn's charge his honour tied,) " Bertram is gone-the villain's word Avouch'd him murderer of his lordl Even now we fought-but, when your trea!d Announced you nigh, the felon fled." In Wycliffe's conscious eye appear A guilty hope, a guilty fear; On his pale brow the dew-drop broke, And his lip quiver'd as he spoke:XXIV. "A murderer!-Philip Mortham died Amid the battle's v ildest tide.

Page  424 424 o OKEBY. CANTO IL Wilfrid, or Bertram raves, or you! Yet, grant such strange confession true, Pursuit were vain-let him fly farJustice must sleep in civil war." A gallant youth rode near his side, Brave Rok'dby's page, in battle tried; That morn, an embassy of weight He brought to Barnard's castle gate, And follow'd now in Wycliffe's train, An answer for his lord to gain. His, steed, whose arch'd and sable neck An hundred wreaths of foam bedeck, Chafed not against the curb more high Than he at Oswald's cold reply; He bit his lip, implored his saint, (His the old faith) — then burst restraint XXV. "Yes! I beheld his bloody fall, By that base traitor's dastard ball, Just when I thought to measure sword, Presumptuous hope! with Mortham's lord. And shall the murderer'scape, who slew His leader, generous, brave, and true? Escape, while on the dew you trace The marks of his gigantic pace? No! ere the sun that dew shall dry, False Risingham shall yield or die.Ring out the castle'larum bell! Arouse the peasants with the knell! Meantime disperse-ride, gallants, ridel Beset the wood on ev'ry side. But if among you one there be, That honours Mortham's memory, Let him dismount and follow mel Else on your crests sit fear and shame, And foul suspicion dog your name 1" XXVI' Instant to earth young REDMOND sprungS Instant, on earth the harness rung Of twenty men of Wycliffe's band, Who waited not their lord's command. Redmond his spurs from buskins drew, h is mantle from his shoulders threw, His pistols in his belt he placed, The green-wood gaiu'd, the footsteps trac'd, I. _.-.-~c

Page  425 'NTO IL, ROKUBY. 425 Shouted like huntsman to his hounds, "To cover, hark I"-and in he bounds. Scarce heard was Oswald's anxious cry, "Suspicionl-ves-pursue him-fly —. But venture not, in useless strife, On ruffian desperate of his life, Whoever finds him, shoot him deAdl Five hundred nobles for his headl" XXVIL The horsemen gallop'd to make goo4 Each path that issued from the wood. Loud frmm the thickets rung the shout Of Redmond and his eager rout With them was Wilfrid, stung with ire, And envying Redmond's martial fire, And emulous of fame.-But where Is Oswald, noble Mortham's heir? He, bound by honour, law, and faith,. Avenger of his kinsman's death? — Leaning against the elmin tree, With drooping head andslacken'd knee, And clenched teeth, and close-clasp'd hands, In agony of soul he stands! His downcast eye on earth is bent, His soul to every sound is lent; For in each shout that cleaves the air, May ring descovery and dispair. XXVIIL What'vail'd it him, that brightly play'd The morning sun on Mortham's glade? All seems in giddy round to ride, Like objects on a stormy tide, Seen eddying by the moonlight dim, Imperfectly to sink and swim. What'vail'd it, that the fair domain, Its battled mansion, hill and plain, On which the sun so brightly shone, Envied so long, was now his own? The lowest dungeon, in that hour, Of Brackentury's dismal tower, Had been his choice, could such a doom Have open'd Mortham's bloody tombi Forced, too, to turn unwilling ear To each surmise of hope or fear,

Page  426 426 ROKEBY. CANTO rt Murmured among the rustics round, Who gathered'at the'larum sound; He dar'd not turn his head away, E'en to look up to heaven to pray, Obcall on hell, in bitter mood, For one sharp death-shot from the woodl XXIX. At length o'erpast that dreadful space, |Back straggling came the scatter'd chase; Jaded and weary, horse and man, Return'd the troopers, one by one. Wilfrid, the last, arrived to say, All trace was lost of Bertram's way, Though Redmond still, up Brignall wood, The hopeless quest in vain pursued. — 0, fatal doom of human race! What tyrant passions passions chase! Remorse from Oswald's brow is gone, Av'rice and pride resume their throne; The pang of instant terror by, They dictate thus, their slave's reply: XXX. a Ay-let him range like hasty hound! And if the grim wolf's lair be found, Small is my care how goes the game With Redmond, or with Risingham. Nay, answer not, thou simple boy I Thy fair Matilda, all so coy To thee, is of another mood To that bold youth of Erin's blood. Thy ditties will she freely praise, And pay thy pains with courtly phrase; In a rough path will oft command — Accept at least-thy friendly hand; His she avoids, or, urg'd and pray'd, Unwilling takes his proffer'd aid, While conscious passion plainly speaks In downcast Jook and blushing cheeks. Whene'er he sings, will she glide nigh, And all her soul is in her eye; Yet doubts she still to tender free The wonted words of courtesy. Tlese are strong signs! —yet wherefore sigh, And wipe, effeminate, thine eye? I. _____ _____ ____ _____ _____ ____ ____ __

Page  427 'CrATO 711. o ROKEDr. 497 Tlhine shall: she be, it thou attend The counsels of thy sire and friend. XXXT 14 Scarce wert thou gone, when peep of light Brought genuine news of Marston's fight. Brave Cromwell turn'd the doubtful ti(le, And conquest bless'd the rightful side; Three thousand cavaliers lie dead, Ilupert and that bold Marquis fled;;N obles and knights, so proud of late, Must fine for fireedom and estate. Of these, committed to my charger Is Rokeby, prisoner at large; Redmond, his page, arriv'd. to say lie reaches Barnard's towers to-day. 1bight heavy shall his ransom be, Unless that maid compound with thee! Go to her now-be bold of cheer While her soul floats'twixt hope and fewar It is the very change of tide, When best the female heart is tried — Pride, prejudice, and modesty, Are in the current swept to sea; And the bold swain, who plies his oar,;May lightly row his bark to shore." CANTO THIRLD. hunting tribes of air and eart Tim hunting tribes of air and earth. Respect the brethren of their birth; Nature, who loves the claim of kind, Less cruel chase to each assign'd. The falcon, pois'd on soaring wing, Watches the wild-duck by the spring; The slow-hound wakes the fox's lairg The greyhound presses on the hare; The eagle pounces on the lamb; The wolf devours the fleecy dam: Ev'n tiger fell, and sullen bear, Their likeness and themr lineage sarce 1'_,,__-..-;-n-I I~r — C —-~~~Li~~C-^C — I~C —s~~ IC~r~ I rC~r~- ~Uj

Page  428 ~3o KxEy, CAN~TO UL Man, only, mars kind Nature's plan, And turns the fierce pursuit on man; Plying war's desultory trade, Incursion, flight, and ambuscade,Since Nimrod, Cush's mighty son, At first the bloody game begun. IL The Indian, prowling for his prey, Who hears thesettlers track his way, And knows in distant forest far Camp his red brethren of the war; HIe, when each double and disguise To baffle the pursuit he tries, Low crouching now his head to hide, Where swampy streams through rushes glids. Now covering with the wither'd leaves The foot-prints that the dew receives; Hie, skill'd in every silvan guile, Knows not, nor tries, such various wile, As Risingham, when on the wind Arose the loud pursuit behind. In Redesdale his youth had heard Each art her wily dalesmen dar'd, When Rooken-edge, and Redswair high, To bugle rung and blood-hound's cry, Announcing Jedwood-axe and spear, And Lid'sdale riders in the rear; And well his venterous life had prov'd The lessons that his childhood lov'd. IlL Oft had he shown, in climes afar, Each attribute of roving war;'I he sharpen'd ear, the piercing eye, The quick resolve in danger nigh; The speed, that in the flight or chase, Outstripped the Charib's rapid race; The steady brain; the sinewy limb, To leap, to climb, to dive, to swim; The iron frame, inured to bear Each dire inclemency of air, Nor less confirmed to undergo Fatigue's faint chill and famine's tire.

Page  429 V0ro ILx. Rt0~X~'Y 429 These arts he prov'd, his life to save In peril oft by land and wave, On Arawaca's desert shore, Or where La Plata's billows roar, W'hen oft the sons of vengeful Spain'rack'd the marauder's steps in vain, These arts, in Indian warfare tried, Must save him now by Greta's side. IV.'Twas then, in hour of utmost need, He proved his courage, art, and speedL Now slow he stalked with stealthy pace, Now started forth in rapid race, Oft doubling back in mazy train, To blind the trace the dews retain; Now clombe the rocks projecting high, To baffle the pursuer's eye; Now sought the stream, whose brawling -sound The echo of his footsteps drown'd. But if the forest verge he nears, There trample steeds, and glimmer spearst If deeper down the copse he drew, He heard the rangers' loud halloo, Beating each cover while they came, As if to start the silvan game.'Twas then-like tiger close beset At every pass with toil and net,'Countered where'er he turns his glare, By clashing arms and torches'flare, Who meditates, with furious bound, To burst on hunter, horse, and hound, —'Twas then that Bertram's foul arose, Prompting to rush upon his foes: But as that crouching tiger, cowed By brandished steel and shouting crowsl, Retreats beneath the jungle's shroud, Bertram suspends his purpose stern, And crouches in the brake and fern, Hiding his face, lest foemen spy The sparkle of his swarthy eye. V. Then Bertram might the bearing.trama Of the bold youth who led the chase; i__ —-...- -------— ~- _~ ~ —-— ir ~ -~`-`-~^.8

Page  430 .5O0 RoREEnY. CANT(, It Who pans'd to list for ev'ry sound, Climb'd ev'ry height to look around, Then rushing on with naked sword, Each dingle's bosky depths explored.''was Redmond-by the azure eye;'Twas Redmond-by the locks that fly Disorder'd from his flowing cheek; Mien, face, and form, young Redmond speak. A form more active, light, and strong, Ne'er shot the ranks of war along; The modest, yet the manly mien, ~ Might grace the court of maiden queen; A face more fair you well might find, For Redmond's knew the sun and wind, Nor boasted, from their tinge when free, The charm of regularity; But ev'ry featare had the pow'r To aid th' expression of the hour: Whether gay wit, and humour sly, Danc'd laughing in his light-blue eye; Or bended brow, and glance of fire, And kindling cheek, spoke Erin's ire; Or soft and sadden'd glances show Her ready sympathy with woe; Or in that wayward mood of mind, When various feelings are combin'd, When joy and sorrow mingle near, And hope's bright wings are check'd by fear, And rising doubts keep transport down, And anger lends a short-liv'd frown; In that strange mood which maids approve Ev'n when they dare not call it love; With every change his features play'd, As aspens show the light and shade. VI. Well Risingham young Redmond knew; And much he marvell'd that the crew, Rous'd to revenge bold Mortham dead, Were by that Mortham's foeman led; For never felt his soul the woe, That wails a gen'rous foeman low, Fai less that sense of justice strong, That wreaks a gen'rous foeman's wrong. But small his leisure now to pause; Redmond is first, whate'er the cause: ____ ___I__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _.__ _. _-_ i

Page  431 UNtC o 1IL ROE.IY. 431 And twice that Redmond came so near Where Bertram couch'd like hunted deer, The very boughs his steps displace, Rustled against the ruffian's face, Who, desp'rate, twice prepar'd to start, And plunge his dagger in his heart! But Redmond turn'd a diffrent way, And the bent boughs resum'd their sway, And Bertram held it wise, unseen, Deeper to plunge in coppice green. Thus, circled in his coil, the snake, When roving hunters beat the brake, Watches with red and glist'ning eye, Prepar'd, if heedless step draw nigh, With forked tougue and venom'd fang Instant to dart the deadly pang; But if the intruders turn aside, Away his coils unfolded glide, And through the deep savannah wind, Some undisturb'd retreat to find. VIL But Bertram, as he backward drew, And heard the loud pursuit renew, And Redmond's hollo on the wind, Oft mutter'd in his savage mind — "Redmond O'Nealel were thou and I Alone this day's event to try, With not a second here to see, But the grey cliff and oaken tree, —'1 hat voice of thine, that shouts so loud, Should ne'er repeat its summons proudl No! nor e'er try its melting power Again in maiden's summer bower." Eluded, now behind him die, l'aint and more faint, each hostile cry; He stands in Scargill wood alone, Nor hears he now a harsher tone Than the hoarse cushat's plaintive cry, Or Greta's sound that murmurs by; And on the dale, so lone and wild, The summer sun in quiet smil'd. VIIL. He listen'd long with anxious heart, Ear bent to hear, and fobot to start,

Page  432 ROBDYr, CAATTO U. And, while his atretch'd attontion glows, Refus'd his weary frame repose.'Twas silence all —he laid him down, Where purple heath profusely strown And throatwort with its azure bell, And moss and thyme his cushion swell There, spent with toil, he listless ey'd The course of Greta's playful tide; Beneath, her banks now'eddying dun, Now brightly gleaming to the sun,' As,, dancing over rock and stone, In yellow light her currents shone, Matching in hue the fav'rite gem Of Albin's mountain-diadem, Then, tir'd to watch the current's play, He turn'd his weary eyes away, To where the bank opposing show'd Its huge, square cliffs,.through shaggy woi One, prominent above the rest, Rear'd to the sun its pale grey breast; Around its broken summit grew The hazel rude, and sable yew; A thousand varied lichens dy'd Its waste and weather-beaten side, And rouud its rugged basis lay, By time or thunder rent away, Fragments, that, from its fi'ontlet tow Were mantled now by verdant thorn. Such was the scene's wild majesty, That fill'd stern Bertram's gazing eye.?$!~~ IXU. In sullen mood llelay reclin'd, I evolving, in hi;: stormy mind, The felon deed, the fruitless guilt, lIis patron's blood by treason spilt; A crime, it seem'd, so dire and dread, That it had pow'r to wake the dead. Then, pond'ring on his life betray'd By Oswald's art to Redmond's blade, In treach'rous purpose to withhold, So seem'd it, Mortham's promis'd gold, A deep and full revenge he vow'd On Redmond, forward, fierce, and proud; Revenge on Wilfrid-on his sire Redoubl'd vengeance, swift and dire! — j'~i, —--- -— F

Page  433 CANTO 111. aoaRBY. 433 If, in such mood, (as legends say, And well believ'd that simple day,) The Enemy of Man has pow'r'To profit by the evil hour, Here stood a wretch, prepar'd to change His soul's redemption for revenge! But though his vows, with such a fire Of earnest and intense desire For vengeance dark and fell, were made, As well might reach hell's lowest shade, No deeper clouds the grove embrown'd, No nether thunders shook the ground; — The demon knew his vassal's heart, And spar'd temptation's needless art. X. Oft, mingled with the direful theme, Came Mortham's form-Was it a dream? Or had he seen, in vision true, That very Mortham whom he slew? Or had in living flesh appear'd The only man on earth he fear'd?To try the mystic cause intent, His eyes, that on the cliff were bent,'Counter'd at once a dazzling glance, Like sunbeam flash'd from sword or lanm. At once he started as forfight, But not a foeman was in sight; He heard the cushat'smurmur hoarse, He heard the river's sounding course; The solitary woodlands lay, As slumb'ring in the summer ray. He gaz'd, Ihke lion rous'd, arouud, Then sunk again upon the ground.'Twas but, he thought, some fitful beam, Glanc'd sudden from the sparkling stream;, Then plunig'd him from his gloomy train Of ill-connected thoughts again, Until a voice behind him cried, "Bertram! well met on Greta side." XL Instant his sword was in his hand. As instant sunk the ready brand; Yet, dubious still, oppos'd he stood'To him that issued from the wood: 38*

Page  434 434 ROKEBY. A'ANTO 111. "Guy Denzil I-is it thnu?" he said; "Do we two meet in Scargill shade.!Stand back a space!-thy purpose show, Whether thou com'st as friend or foe. Report hath said, that Denzil's name From Rokeby's band was raz'd withshaire.'""A shame I owe that hot O'Neale, Who told his knight, in peevish zeal, Of my marauding on the clowns Of Calverley and Bradford downs. I reck not. In a war to strive, Where, save the leaders, none can thrive. Suits ill my mood; and better game Awaits us both, if thou'rt the same Unscrupulous, bold Risingham, Who watch'd with me in midnight dark, To snatch a deer from Rokeby-park. How think'st thou?" —"Speak thy purpose cut; I love not mystery or doubt."XII. CThen, list.-Not far there lurk a crew Of trusty comrades, stanch and true. Glean'd from both factions-Roundhcatls, fieed From cant of sermon and of creed; And Cavaliers, whose souls, like mine, Spurn at the bonds of discipline. Wiser, we judge, by dale and wold, A warfare of our own to hold, Than breathe our last on battle-down, For cloak or surplice, mace or crown. Our schemes are laid, our purpose set, A chief and leader lack we yet. — Thou art a wand'rer, it is said; For Mortham's death, thy steps way-laid, Thy head at price-so say our spies, Who range the valley in disguise. Join then with us:-though wild debate And wrangling rend our infant state, Each to an equal loath to bow, Will yield to chief renown'd as thou.' — XIIL "E'en now," thought Bertram, "passion-st1lr'd, I call'd on hell, and hell has heard!

Page  435 / X alsCTo "s. ROWEItV. 438 What lack I, vengeance to commanjl But of stanch comrades such a band? This D)enzil, vow'd to ev'ry evil, Might read a lesson to the deviL Well,be it sol each knave and fool Shall serve as my revenge's tooL"Aloud, *' I take thy proffer, Guy, But tell me where thy comrades lie?""Not far from hence," Guy Denzil said; 4'Descend, and cross the river's bed,:i Where rises yonder cliff so grey." 4'Do thou," said Bertram, "lead the way." Then mutter'ed, " it is best make sure; Guy Denzil's faith was never pure."'H e follow'd down the steep descent, Then through the Greta's streams they went; And, when they reach'd the farther shore, They stood the lonely chliff before. XIV. With wonder Bertram heard within The flinty rock a murmur'd din; But when Guy pull'd the wilding spray, And brambles, from its base away, lHe saw, appearing to the air, A little entrance, low and square, Like op'ning cell of hermit lone, Dark, winding through the living stone. I Here enter'd Denzil, Bertram here; And loud and louder on their ear, As from the bowels of the earth, Resounded shouts of boist'rous mirth. Of old, the cavern strait and rude, In slaty rock the peasant hew'd; And Brignall's woods, and Scargill'sw.vve., E'en now, o'er many a-sister cave, Where, far within the darksome-rift, The wedge and lever ply their thrift But war had silenc'd rural trade, And the deserted mine was made The banquet-hall and fortress too, Of Denzil and his desp'rate crew. — There Guilt his anxious revel kept;'There, on his sordid pallet, slept Guilt-born Excess, the goblet drain'd l till in his ~lumb'ring grasp retain'd;

Page  436 436' RaKY. -C, Regret was there, his eye stilleast With vain repining on the past; Among the feasters waited near Sorrow, and unrepentant Fear, And Blasphemy, to frenzy driv'n, With his own crimes reproaching heav'n? While Bertram show'd, amid the crew The Master-Fiend that Milton drew. XV. Hark! the loud revel wakes again, To greet the leader of the train. Behold the group by the pale lamp, That struggles with the earthy damp. By what strange features Vice has known, To single out and mark her own! Yet some the-re are, whose brows retaiii Less deeply stamp'd her brand and salin. See yon pale stripling! when a boy, A mother's pride, a father's joy! Now,'gainst the vault's rude walls recliM'dt, An early image fills his mind: The cottage, once his sire's, he sees, Embower'd upon the banks of Tees; Hie views sweet Winston's woodland scckng And shares the dance on Gainford-(greet. A tear is springing-but the zest Of some wild tale, or brutal jest, Hath to loud laughter stirr'd the rest. On him they call, the aptest mate For jovial song and merry feat; Fast flies his dream-with dauntless air, As one victorious o'er Despair, He bids the ruddy cup go round, Till sense and sorrow both are drown'd; And soon, in merry wassail, he, The life of all their revelry, Peals his loud song! —The muse has foundr Her blossoms on the wildest ground,'Mid noxious weeds at random strew'd7 Themselves all profitless and rude.With desp'rate merriment he sung, The cavern to the chorus rung; Yet mingled with his reckless glee Remorse's bitter agony.

Page  437 0, Brignall banks are wild andhfa&, And. Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there, Would grace a summer queen. And as I rode by Dalton-hall, Beneath the turrets high, A maiden on the castle wall Was singing merrily, — Chorus.'40, Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green; I'd rather rove with Edmund there, Than reign our English queen." — " If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me, To leave -both tow'r and town, Thou first must guess what life lead we, That dwell by dale and down? And if thou canst that riddle read, As read full well you may,'Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed, As blithe as Queen of May."- Chorus Yet sung she,"Brignall banks are ifir, And Greta woods are green;; I'd rather rove with Edmund there, Than reign our English queen. tJ XVIL ~'I read you, by your bugle-horn, And by your palfrey good, I read you for a ranger sworn,?4i;To keep the king's greenwood,"- "A Ranger, lady, winds his horn, And'tis at peep of light; His blast is heard at merry morn, And mine at dead of night."- Yet sung she, "Brignall banks are fair, And Greta woods are gay; I would I were. with Edmund there, To reign.his.Queen of Mayl

Page  438 "With btrnish'd brand and musketoo4 So gallantly you come, I read you for a bold Dragoon, That- lists the tuck of drum.'""I list no more the tuck of drum, No more the trumpet hear; But when the beetle sounds his hum, My comrades take the spear. C/unms. "And, 01 though Brignall banks be fair, And Greta woods be gay, Yet mickle must the maiden dare, Would reign my Queen of MaylI XVIIL "Maident a nameless life I lead, A nameless, death I'll die; The fiend, whose.lantern lights the mea&, Were better lmate than II And when I'm with my comrades met. Beneath the greenwood bough, What once we were we all forget, Nor think what we are now. Chorum. Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer queen." When Edmund ceased his simple song, Was silence on the sullen throng, Till wak'd some ruder mate their glee With note of coarser minstrelsy. But, far apart, in dark divan, Denzil and Bertram many a.plan, Of import foul and fierce, design'd. While still on Bertram's grasping mind The wealth of murder'd Mortham hung;, Though half he fear'd his daring tongue. When it should give his wishes birth, Might raise a spectre from the earthl XIX. At length his wondrous tale he told: When, scornful, smil'd his comrade bold;

Page  439 CANTO 1n ROKEBY. For, train'd in licence of a court, Religion's self was Denzil's sport: Then judge in what contempt he held The visionary tales of eld! His awe for Bertram scarce repress'd The unbeliever's sneering jest. "'Twere hard," he said, "for sage or seer To! spell the subject of your fear; Nor do I boast the art renown'd, Vision and omen to expound, Yet, faith if I must needs afford To spectre watching treasur'd hoard, As ban-dog keeps his master's rooft; Bidding the plund'rer stand aloof, This doubt remains-thy goblin gaunt Hath chosen ill his ghostly haunt; For why his guard on Morthamn hold, When liokeby castle hath the gold Thy patron won on Indian soil, By stealth, by piracy, and spoil?"XX. At this he paus'd-for angry shame Lower'd on the brow of Risingham. He blush'd to think, that he should seem Assertor of an airy dream, And gave his wrath another theme. " Denzil," he says, "though lowly laid, Wrong not the mecm'ry of the dead; For, while he liv'd, at Tiortham's look Thy very soul, Guy l)enzil, shook! And when he tax'd thy breach of word To yon fhir rose of Allenford, I saw thee crouch like chasten'd hound, Whose- back the hluntsman's lash hath found. Nor dare to call his olrcign wealth The spoil of piracy or stealth; He won it bravely with his brand, When Spain wag'd warflt're with our land. Mark, too — brook no idle jeer, Nor couple Bertram's nlame with fear; Mine is but half the demon's lot, IFor I believe, but tremble not,Enough of this.-Say, why this hoard Thou deem'st at ]iokeby castle stor'd; Or think'st that Mi\orthaml would btstuw His treasure with his faction's lie?"

Page  440 .* _X 1.. O.K31 C;' Rather he would have seen the earth Give to ten thousand spectres birth, Then venture to awake to flame The deadly wrath of Risingham. Submiss he answer'd,-'"Morthnnl's mind, Thou know'st, to joy was ill inclin'd. In youth,'tis said, a gallant free, A lusty reveller was he; But since return'd from over sea, A sullen and a silent mood Hath numb'd the current of his blood. Hence he refus'd each kindly call To Rokeby's hospitable hall, And our stout knight, at dawn of morn Who lovd to hear the bugle-horn, Nor less, when eve his oaks embrown'd, To see the ruddy cup go round, Took umbrage that a friend so near Refus'd to share his chase and cheer;. Thus did the kindred barons jar, Ere they divided in the war. Yet, trust me, friend, Matilda fair Of Mortham's wealth is destin'd heir.". — XXIL "Destin'd to her! to yon slight maid! The prize: my life had well nigh paid, When'gainst Laroche, by Cayo's wave I fought, my patron's wealth to savelDenzil, I knew him long, but ne'er Knew him that joyous cavalier, Whom youthful friends and early fame Call'd soul of gallantry and game. A moody man, he sought our crew, Desp'rate and dark, whom no one knew; And rose, as men with us must rise, By scorning life and all its ties. On eaeh adventure rash he rov'd, As danger for itself he lov'd; On his sad brow nor mirth nor wine Could e'er one wrinkled knot untwine; ll was the omen if he smil'd, For'twas in peril stern and wild; But when he laugh'd, each luckless mate.Might hold our fortune desperate.

Page  441 CANTO IIn. ROKEBY 441 Foremost he fought in ev'ry broil, Then scornful turn'd him from the spoil; Nay, often strove to bar the way Between his comrades and their prey; Preaching, ev'n then, to such as we, Hot with our dear-bought victory, Of mercy and humanity. XXIL " lov'd him well-His fearless part, His gallant leading, won my heart. And after each victorious fight,'Twas I that wrangled for his right, Redeem'd his portion of the prey That greedier mates had torn away: In field and storm thrice sav'd his life, And once amid our comrades' strife.Yes, I have lov'd theel Well hath prov'd My toil, my danger, how I lov'dl Yet will I mourn no more thy fate, Ingrate in life, in death ingrate. Rise if thou canst I" he look'd around, And sternly stamp'd upon the ground — "Rise, with thy bearing proud and high, Ev'n as this morn it met mine eye, And give me, if thou dar'st, the lie!" I He paus'd-then, calm and passion-freed, Bade Denzil with his tale proceed. XXIV. "Bertram, to thee I need not tell, What thou hast cause to wot so well, How Superstition's nets were twin'd Around the Lord of Mortham's mind; But since he drove thee from his tower, A maid he found in Greta's bower, Whose speech, like David's harp, had sway, To charm his evil fiend away. I know not if her features mov'd Remembrafice of the wife he lov'd; But he would gaze upon her eye, Till his mood soften'd to a sigh. He, whom no living mortal sought To question of his secret thought, Now ev'ry thought and care confess'd To his fair niece's faithfful breast;

Page  442 412 ROIKEBY. CANt'O II. Nor was there aught of rich and r;nrc, In earth, in ocean, or in air, But it must deck Matilda's hair. Her love still bound him unto li e; But then awoke the civil strife, And menials bore, by his commands, Three coffers, with their iron bands, From Mortham's vault, at midnight deep, To her lone bower in Rokeby-Keep, Pond'rous with gold and plate of pride - His gift, if he in battle died."XXV. "Then Denzil, as I guess, lays train, These iron-banded chests to gain; Else, wherefore should he hover here, Where many a peril waits him near, For all his feats of war and peace, For plunder'd boors, and harts of grease? Since through the hamlets as he far'd, What hearth has Guy's marauding spar'd, Or where the chase that hath not rung With Denzil's bow, at midnight strung?" — " I hold my wont-my rangers go Ev'n now to track a milk-white doe. By Rokeby-hall she takes her lair, In Greta wood she harbours fair, And when my huntsman marks her way, What think'st thoft, Bertram, of the prey? Were Rokeby's daughter in our power, We rate her ransom at her dower."Xxv.o i"'Tis welll-there's vengeance in the thought, Matilda is by Wilfrid sought; And hot-brain'd Redmond, too,'tis said, Pays lover's homage to the maid. Bertram she scorn'd-If met by chance, She turn'd from me her shudd'ring glance, Like a nice dame, that will not brook On what she hates and loathes to look; She told to Mortham she could ne'er Behold me without secret fear, Foreboding evil:-She n ay rue To find her prophecy fall true! — The warhasweeded Rokeby's train, Few foll'wers in his halls remain; L.__.._.._,

Page  443 UANt0) I'. ROKEBY. If thy scheme miss, then, brief and bold, We are enow to storm the hold; Bear off the plunder, and the dame, And leave the castle all in flame."XXVIL'" Still art thou Valour's vent'rous son I Yet ponder first the risk to run: The menials of the castle, true, And stubborn to their charge, though few, The wall to scale-the moat to crossThe wicket.grate-the inner fosse" "Fool! if we blench for toys like these, On what fair guerdon can we seize? Our hardiest venture, to explore Some wretched peasant's fenceless door, And the best prize we bear away, The earnings of his sordid day. "A while thy hasty taunt for bear: In sight of road more sure and fair, Thou wouldst not choose, in blindfold wrathk Or wantonness, a desp'rate path?; List then;-for vantage or assault, From gilded vane to dungeon vault, Each pass of Rokeby-house I know: There is one postern, dark and low, That issues at a secret spot, By most neglected or forgot. Now, could a spial of our train On fair pretext admittance gain, That sally-port might be unbarr'd: Then, vain were battlement and ward!' XXVIIL' Now speak'st thou well:-to me the sames If force or art shall urge the game; Indiff'rent, if like fox I wind, Or spring like tiger on the hind.But, hark! our merry men so gay Troll forth another roundelay."SONG. "A weary lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, And press the rue for. wine!. A lightsome eye, a soldier's mienr

Page  444 444 ROKEBY, CA NTO 1r A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green, — No more of me you knew, My lovel No more of me you knew. "This morn is merry June, I trow, The rose is budding fain; But she shall bloom in winter snow, Ere we two meet again." He turn'd his charger as he spake, Upon the river shore, lIe gave his bridle-reins a shake, Said, "Adieu for evermore, My lovel And adieu for evermore."XXIX. " What youth is this, your band among, The best for minstrelsy and song? In his wild notes seem aptly met A strain of pleasure and regret." — "Edmond of Winstone is his name; The hamlet sounded with the fame Of early hopes his childhood gave.Now center'd all in Brignall cave! I watch him well-his wayward course Shows oft a tincture of remorse. Some early love-shaft graz'd his heart, And oft the scar will ache and smart. Yet is he useful;-of the rest, By fits, the darling and the jest, His harp, his story, and his lay Oft aid the idle hours away: When unemploy'd, each fiery mate Is ripe for mutinous debate. He tuned his strings e'en now-again IIe wakes them, with a blither straia. SON4. ALLEN-A-DALE. Allen-a-Dale has no fagot for burning, Allen-a-Dale has no furrow for turning, Allen-a-Dale has fiho fleece for the spiuning, Wet Allen-a-Dale has red gold for the winniq,

Page  445 CANTO IlL CIOKEIJ. I i Come, read me my riddlelcome, hearken my tale! And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-Dale. The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, And he views his domains upon Arkindale side. The mere for his net, and the land for his game. The chase for the wild, and the park for the tame; Yet the fish of the lake, and the deer of the vale, Are less free to Lord Dacre than Allen-a-dale! Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight, Though his spur be as sharp, and his blade be as bright; Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord, Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word; And the best of our nobles his bonnet will vail, WVho at Rere-cross on Stanmore meets Allen-a-Dale. Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come; The mother, she ask'd of his household and home: "Though the castle of Richmond stand fair on the hill, My hall," quoth bold Allen, "shows gallanter still; "'Tis the blue vault of heav'n, with its crescent so pale, And with all its bright spanglesl" said Allen-a-Dale. The father was steel, and the' mother was stone; They lifted the latch, and they bade him be gone: But loud, on the morrow, their wail and their cryr: He had laugh'd on the lass with his bonny black eye, And she fled to the forest -to hear a love-tale, And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-Dale! XXXL "Thou see'st that, whether sad or gay, Love mingles ever in his lay. But when his boyish wayward fit Is o'er, he hath address and wit; 0!'tis a brain of fire, can ape Each dialect, each various shape.""Nay, then, to aid thy project, GuySoft! who comes here?" —" My trusty spy. Speak, lHamlinl hast thou lodged our deer?"."I have-but two fair stags are near. I watch'd her as she slowly stray'd From Eglistone up Thorsgill glade; But Wilfrid Wycliffesought her side, And then young Redmond, in his pride Shot down to meet them on their way: Much as it seem'd, was theirs to say: 39 *

Page  446 I S46'AKROKELY. Ti"10 tV There's time to -pitch both toil and net, Before their path be homeward set" A hurried and a whisper'd speech Did Bertram's will to -Denzil teach; V~ho,turning to the'robber band, Bade four, the bravest, take the brand, CANTO FOURTH. WHEN Denmark's raven soar'd on highs Triumphant through Northumbrian sky,'fill, hov'ring near, her fatal croak Bade Reged's Britons dread the yoke, And the broad shadow of her wing Blacken'd each cataract and spring, Where Tees in tumult leaves his source, Thund'ring o'er Caldron and High -Force; Beneath the shade the Northmen came, Fix'd on each vale a Runic name, Rear'd high their altars' rugged stone, And gave their Gods the land they won. Then, Balder, onebleak garth was thine, And one sweet brooklet's silver line, And Woden's Croft did title gain Form the stern Father of the Slain; But to the Monarch of the Mace, That held in fight the foremost place, To Odin's son, and Sifia's spouse, Near Stratforth high they paid their vowg, Remember'd Thor's victorious fame, And gave the dell the Thund'rer's name. IIL Yet Scald or Kemper err'd, I ween, Who gave that soft and quiet scene, With all its varied light and shade, And every little sunny glade, And the blithe brook that strolls along Its pebbled bed with summer song, To the grim God of blood and scar, The grisly King of Northern War. O, better were its banks assign'd To spirits of a gentler killdl

Page  447 CANTO IV. ROKEBY..47 For where the thicket-groups recede, And the rath primrose decks the mead, The velvet grass seems carpet meet For the light fairies' lively feet. Yon tufted knoll, with daisies strewn, Might make proud Oberon a throne, While, hidden in the thicket nigh, Puck should brood o'er his frolic sly; And where profuse the wood-vetch clings Round ash and elmn, in verdant rings, Its pale and azure-pencill'd flower Should canopy Titania's bower. IIL Here rise no cliffs the vale to shade; But, skirting ev'ry sunny glade, In fair variety of green The woodland lends its silvan screen. Hoary, yet haughty, frowns the oak, Its boughs by weight of ages broke; And tow'rs erect, in sable spire, The pine-tree scath'd by lightning-fire; The drooping ash and birch, between, Hang their fair tresses o'er the green, And all beneath, at random grow Each coppice dwarf of varied show, O)r, round the stems profusely twin'd, Fling summer odours on the wind. Such varied group Urbino's hand Round Him of Tarsus nobly plann'd, What time he bade proud Athens own On Mars's Mount the God Unknown! Then grey Philosophy stood nigh, Though bent by age, in spirit high: There rose the scar-seam'd vet'ran's spear, There Grecian Beauty bent to hear, While Childhood at her foot was plac'd, Or clung delighted to her waist. H1; ) ~~~~~IV. "And rest we here," Matilda said, And sate her in the varying shade. Chance-met, we well may steal an hour, Tofriendship due from fortune's power. Thou, Wilfrid, ever kind, must lend Thy counsel to thy sister-friend; I~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -

Page  448 48S ROUBDY. CANTO IT And, Redmond,,thou, at my behest, Nofarther urge thy desp'rate quest.'For to my care a charge is left, Dang'rous to one of aid bereft, Well nigh an orphan, and alone, Captive her sire, her house o'erthrowna" Wilfrid, with wonted kindness grac'd, Beside her on the turf she plac'd; Then paus'd, with downcast look and eye, Nor bade young Redmond seat him nigh, Her conscious diffidence he saw, Drew backward as in modest awe, And sat a little space remov'd, Unmark'd to gaze on her he lov'd. V. Wreath'd in its dark-brown rings, her hair Half hid Matilda's forehead fair. Half hid and half reveal'd to view Her full dark eye of hazel hue. The rose, with faint and feeble streak, So slightly ting'd the maiden's cheek, That you had said her hue was pale; But if she fac'd the summer gale, Or spoke, or sung, or quicker mov'd, Or heard the praise of those she lov'd, Or when of int'rest was express'd Aught that wak'd feeling in her breast, The mantling blood in ready play Rivall'd the blush of rising day. There was a soft and pensive grace, A cast of thought upon her face, That suited well the forehead high, The eyelash dark, and downcast eye; The mild expression spoke a mind In duty firm,compos'd, resign'd;-'Tis that which Roman art has giv'n, To mark their maiden Queen of Heav'n. In hours of sport, that mood gave way To Fancy's light and frolid play; And when the dance, or tale, or song, In harmless mirth sped time along, Full oft her doting sire would call His Maud the merriest of them all. But days of war, and civil crime, Allow'd but ill such festal time, J I

Page  449 CANTO 1V. ROKEBR. 449' And her soft pensiveness of brow Had deepen'd into satiness now. In Marston field her father ta'en, Her fiiends dispers'd, brave Mortham slain, While ev'ry ill her soul foretold, From Oswald's thirst of pow'r and gold, And boding thoughts that she must part With a soft vision of her heart,-, All lower'd around the lovely maid, To darken her dejection's shade, VL. Who has not heard-while Erin yet Strove'gainst the Saxon's iron bitWho has not heard. how brave O'Neale In English blood imbrued his steel, Against St George's cross blaz'd high The banners of his Tanistry, To fiery Essex gave the foil, And reign'd a prince on Ulster's soil? But chief arose his victor pride, When that brave Marshal fought and died, And Avon-Duff to ocean bore His billows red with Saxon gore. Twas first in that disastrous light, Rokeby and Mortham prov'd their might. There had they fall'n among the rest, But pity touch'd a chieftain's breast; The Tanist he to great O'Neale..He check'd his foll'wers' bloody zeal, To quarter took the kinsmen bold, And bore them to his mountain-hold, Gave them each silvan joy to know, Slieve-Donard's cliffs and woods could show, Shar'd with them Erin's festal cheer, Show'd them the chase of wolf and deer, And, when a fitting time was come, Safe and unransom'd sent them home, Loaded with many a gift, to prove A gen'rous foe's respect and love. VIL Years speed away. On Rokeby's head Some touch of early snow was. shed; Calm he enjoy'd, by Greta's wave, The peace which James the Peaceful gave

Page  450 While Morham, far beyond the main, Wag'd his fierce wars on Indian Spain.It chanc d upon a wintry night, That whiten'd Stanmore's stormy height, The chase was o'er, the stag was kill'd, In Rokeby hall the cups were fill'd, And by the huge stone chimney sate The Knight in hospitable state. Moonless the sky, the hour was late, When a loud summons shook the gate, And sore for entrance and for aid A voice of foreign accent pray'd. The porter answer'd to the call, And instant rush'd into the hall A Man, whose aspect and attire Startled the circle by the fire. VIIL His plaited hair in elf-locks spread Around his bare and matted head; On leg and thigh, close stretch'd and trim, His vesture show'd the sinewy limb; In saffron dyed, a linen vest Was frequent folded round his breast; A mantle long and loose he wore, Shaggy with ice, and stain'd with gore, He clasp'd a burden to his heart, And, resting on a knotted dart, The snow from hair and beard he shook, And round him gaz'd with wilder'd look. Then up the hall, with stagg'ring pace He hasten'd by the blaze to place, Half lifeless from the bitter air, His.load, a Boy of beauty rare. To Rokeby, next, he louted low, Then stood erect his tale to show, With wild majestic port and tone, Like envoy of some barb'rous throne. "Sir Richard, Lord of Rokeby, hearl Turlough O'Neale salutes thee dear; He graces thee, and to thy care Young Redmond gives, his grandson fair. He bids thee breed him as thy son, For Turlough's days of joy are done; And other lords have seiz'd his land, And faint and feeble is his hand;

Page  451 And all the'glory of Tyrone Is like a morning vapour flown. To bind the duty on thy soul, He bids thee think on Erin's bowl! If any wrong the young O' Neale, He bids thee think of Erin's steel. To Mortham first this charge was due, But, in his absence, honours you.Now is my master's message by, And Ferraught will contented die." His look grew fix'd, his cheek grew page, He sunk when he had told his tale; For, hid beneath his mantle wide, A mortal wound was in his side. Vain was all aid-in terror wild, And sorrow, scream'd the orphan Child. Poor Ferraught rais'd his wistfil eyes, And faintly strove to soothe his cries; All reckless of his dying pain, lie blest, and blest him o'er again! And kiss'd the little hands outspread, And kiss'd and cross'd the infant head, And, in his native tongue and pLrase, Pray'd to each saint to watch his days; Then all his strength together drew,' The charge to Rokeby to renew. When half was falter'd from his breast, And half by dying signs express'd, "Bless thee, O'Neale!" he faintly sai And thus the faithful spirit fled,'Twas long ere soothing might prevail Upon the Child to end the tale: And then he said, that from his honme His grandsire had been forc'd to roam, YWhich had not been if Redmond's hadr: Had but had strength to draw the brard,, The brand of Lenaugh More the Red, That hung beside the grey wolfs head.-'Twas from his broken phrase descried, His foster-father was his guide, Who, in his, charge, from Ulster bore Letters and gifts a gcodly store;

Page  452 4.2 RoKZE8 C4ANTO a. But ruffians met them in the wood. Ferraught, in battle boldly stood, Till wounded and o'erpower'd at length, And stripp'd of all, his failing strength Just bore him here-and then the e;hld Renew'd again his moaning wild. XL The tear, down childhood's cheek that flnow Is like the dew-drop on the rose; When next the summer breeze comes by, And waves the bush, the flower is ddy. Won bytheir ca, their care, theorphan Child Soon on his new protector smil'd, With dimpled cheek and eye so fair, Through his thick curls of flaxen hair, But blithest laugh'd that cheek and eye, When Rokeby's little maid was nigh;'Twas his, with elder brother's pride, Matilda's tottering steps to guide; His native lays in Irish tongue, To soothe her infant ear he sung, And primrose twin'd with daisy fair, To form a chaplet for her hair. By lawn, by grove, by brooklet's strand,. The children still were hand and haund And good Sir Richard smiling eyed The early knot so kindly tied. * nL But summer months bring wilding shoot From bud to bloom, from bloom to fruij And years draw on our human span, From child to boy, from boy to man; And soon in Rokety's woods is seen A gallant boy in hunter's green. Hle loves to wake the felon boar, In his dark haunt on Greta's shore, And loves, against the deer so dun, To draw the shaft, or lift the gun: Yet more he loves, in autumn prime, The hazel's spreading boughs to climb, And down its cluster'd stores to hail Where young Matilda holds her veil. And she, whose veil receives the showe,. Is alter'd too, and knows her ower I

Page  453 V*No N. 4W3 Assumesa monitress's pride, Her Redmond's dang'rous sports to chide; Yet listens still to hear him tell How the grim wild-boar fought and tell, How at his fall the bugle rung, Till rock and greenwood answer flung; Then blesses her, that man can find A pastime of such savage kindl But Redmond knew to weave his tale So well with praise of wood and dale, And knew so well each point to trace, Gives living int'rest to the chase, And knew so well o'er all to throw His spirit's wild romantic glow, That, while she blaln'd, and while she fea:'d, She lov'd each vent'rous tale she heard. Ott, too, when drifted snow and rain To bow'r and hall their steps restrain, Together they explor'd the page Of glowing bard or gifted sage; Oft plac'd the ev'ning fire beside, The minstrel art alternate tried, While gladsome harp and lively lay Bade winter night flit fast away: Thus from their childhood blending still Their sport, their study, and their skill, An union of the soul they prove, But must not think that it was love, But though they dar'd not, envious Fame Soon dar'd to give that union name: And when so often, side by side, From year to year the pair she ey'd, She sometimes blam'd the good old Kni-hL, As dull of ear and dim of sight, Sometimeshis purpose would declare, That young O'Neale should wed his heir. XIV. The suit ot Wilfrid rent disguise And bandage from the lovers' eyes;'Twas plain that Oswald, for his s;n, Had Rokeby's favour well nigh won. Now must they meet with change of cheer. With mutual looks of shame and fear; 1 ------------` do

Page  454 4 o tt ROKEBY. ray ar Now must Matilda stray apart, To school her disobedient heart: And Redmond now alone must rue The love he never can subdue. But factions rose, and Rokeby sware, No rebel's son should wed his heir; And Redmond, nurtur'd while a child In many a bard's traditions wild, Now sought the 1 nely wood or stream To cherish there a happier dream, Of maiden won by sword or lance. As in the regions of romance;. And count the heroes of his line, Great Nial of the Pledges Nine, Shane-Dymas wild, and Geraldine, And Connan-more, who vow d his rae, For ever to the fight and chase, And curs'd him, of his lineage born, Should sheathe the sword to reap the cotr Or leave the mountain and the wold, To shroud himself in castled hold. From such examples hope he drew, And brighten'd as the trumpet blew. XV. If brides were won by heart and blade, ]Redmond had both his cause to aid, And all beside of nurture rare That might beseem a haron'sheir. Turlough ()'Neale, in Erin's strife, On Rokeby's Lord bestow'd his life, And well did Rokeby's gen'rous Knight Young Redmond for the deed requite. Nor was his liberal care and cost Upon the gallant stripling lost: Seek the North. Riding broad and wide, Like Redmond none could stee;l bestride;, From Tynemouth search to Cumberland, Like Redmond none could wield a brand And then, of humour kind and free, And bearing him to each degree With frank and fearless courtesy, There never youth was form'd to steal Upon the heart like brave O'Nealo. XVI Sir Richard lov'd him as his son; And when the days of peace were do0e

Page  455 OANTO tIV. RBEY.4, And to the gales of war he cave The banner of his sires to rwave, Redmond, disvinguish'd by his care, He chose that honour'd flag to bear, And nam'd his page, the next degree In that old time to chivalry. In five pitch'd fields he well maintain'd The honour'd place his worth obtain'd, And high was Redmond's youthful name Blaz'd in the roll of martial fame. Had fortune smil'd on Marston fight, The eve had seen him dubb'd a knight; Twice,'mid the battle's doubtful strife, Of Rokeby's Lord he saved the life, But when he saw him pris'ner made, He kiss'd and then resign'd his blade, And yielded him an easy prey To those who led the Knight away; Resolv'd Matilda's sire should prove, In prison, as in fight, his love. XVIL When lovers meet in adverse hour,'Tis like a sun-glimpse through a sho\er, A watery ray, an instant seen, The darkly closing clouds between. As Redmond on the turf reclin'd, The past and present fill'd his mind: "It was not thus," Affection said, "I dream'd of my return, dear maid! Not thus when from thy trembling hand, I took the banner and the brand, When round me as the bugles blew, Their blades three hundred warriors drew, And, while the standard I unroll'd, Clash'd their bright arms, with clamour bold. Where is that banner now?-its pride Lies'whelm'd in Ouse's sullen tide! Where now these warriors?-in their gore, They cumber Marston's dismal moor; And what avails a useless brand, Held by a captive's shackled hand, That only would his life retain, To aid thy sire to bear his chainl" Thus Redmond to himself apart; Nor lighter was his rival's heartS

Page  456 ~t 4B5 nOKgBY. CA.SO IV For Wilfrid, while his gen'rous soul Disdain'd to profit by control, By many a sign could mark too plain, Save with such aid,his hopes were vain. — But now Matilda's accents stole On the dark visions of their soul, And bade their mournful mlusing fly, Like mist before the zephyr's sigh. XAVI. "I need not to my friends recall, How ]ortham shunn'd my father's hall: A man of silence and of woe, Yet ever anxious to bestow On my poor self whate'er could prove A kinsman's confidence and love. My feeble aid could sometimes chase The clouds of sorrow for a space: But oft'ner,fix'd beyond my pow'r, I mark'd his deep despondence low'r. One dismal cause, by all unguess'd, His fearful confidence confcss'd; And twice it was my hap to see Examples of that agony, Which for a season can o'erstrain And wreck the structure of the brain. He had the awful pow'r to know Th' approaching mental overthrow, And while his mind had courage yet To struggle with the dreadful fit, The victim writh'd against its throes, Like wretch beneath a murd'rer's blows. This malady, I well could mark,;Sprung from some direful cause and dark; But still he kept its source conceal'd, Till arming for the civil field, Then in my charge he bade me hold A treasure huge of gems and gold, With this disjointed dismal scroll, That tells the secret of his soul. In such wild words as oft betray A mind by anguish forc'd astray" xIx IMORTHAM'S HiSTORY. "Matilda! thou hast seen me start, |As if a dagger thrili'd my hcart,

Page  457 '4ITO IV LO:KEBot. When it has happ'd some casual phrase Wak'd m:m'ry of my former days. Believe that few can backward cast Their thoughts with pleasure on the past; But I!-my youth was rash and vain, And blood and rage my manhood stain, And my grey hairs must now descend To my cold grave without a friendl E'en thou, Matilda, wilt disown Thy kinsman, when his guilt is known, And must I lift the bloody veil, That hides my dark and fatal tale! I must-I will-Pale phantom, ceasel Leave me one little hour in peace I Thus haunted, think'st thou I have skill, Thine own commission to fulfil? ()r, while thou po nt'st with gesture fierce, Thy blighted cheek, thy bloody hearse, How can I paint thee as thou wert, So fair in face, so warm in heart:XX. "Yeg, she was fairl —Matilda, thou Hast a soft sadness on thy brow; But hers was like the sunny glow That laughs on earth and all below4 We wedded secret-there was need-_ Diff'ring in country and in creed; And when to Mortham's tow'r she came, We mention'd not her race and name, Until thy sire, who fought afar, Should turn him home from foreign war, On whose kind influence we relied To soothe her father's ire and pride. Few months we liv'd retir'd, unknown, To all but one dear friend alone, One darling friend-I spare his shame, I will not write the villain's name! Mv trespasses I might forget, And sue in vengeance for the debt Due by a brother worm to me, Ungrateful to God's clemency, That spar'd me penitential time, Nor cut me off amid my crime.XXL "A kindly smile to all she lent, But on her husband's friend'twas ben 40A

Page  458 458 ROKEBY. CANTO InT So kind, that from its-harmless glee, The wretch misconstrued villany. Repuls'd in his presumptuous love, A'vengeful snare the traitor wove. Alone we sat-the flask had flow'd, My blood with heat unwonted glow'd, When through the alley'd walk we spied With hurried step my Edith glide,,Cow'ring beneathl the verdant screen, As one unwilling to be seen. Words cannot paint the fiendish smile That curl'd the traitor's cheek the while Fiercely I question'd of the cause; He made a cold aud artful pause, 1 hen pray'd it might not chafe my mood-'There was a gallant in the wood!' — We had been shooting at the deer; My cross-bow (evil chiincel)was near: That ready weapon of my wrath I caught, and, hasting up the path, In the yew grove my wife I found, A stranger's arms her neck had bound; I mark'd his heart —the bow I drewI loos'd the shaft-'twas more than truel I found my Edith's dying charms Lock'd in her murder'd brother's arms! He came in secret to inquire Her state, and reconcile her sire. XXII. "All fled my rage-the villain first, Whose craft my jealousy had nurs'd; He sought in far and foreign clime To'scape the vengeance of his crime. The manner of the slaughter done Was known to few, my guilt to none; Some tale my faithful steward fram'd I know not what-of shaft mis.aim'd; Andev'n from those the act who knew, He hid the hand from which it flew. Untouch'd by human laws I stood, But GOD had heard the cry of blood! There is a blank upon mny mind, A fearful vision ili- defin' d, Of raving till my flesh was torn, Of dungeon..bolts and fetters wornAnd when I wak'd to woe more mild, And question'd of my infant child

Page  459 CANTO XV ROKISUiL (Have I not written, that she bare A boy, like summer morning fair?)With looks confus'd my menials tell, That armed men in Mortham dell Beset the nurse's evening way, And bore her, with her charge away. My faithless friend,and none but he, Could profit by this villany; IHim then, I sought, with purpose dread Of treble vengeance on his head!' ie'scap'd me-but my bosom's wound Some faint relief from wand'ring found; And over distant land and sea, I bore my load of misery, XXIIL "'Twas then that fate my footsteps led Among a daring crew and dread, With whom full oft my hated life, I ventur'd in such desp'rate strife, That e'en my fierce associates saw * | My frantic deeds with doubt and awe. Much then I learn'd, and much can show, Of human guilt and human woe, Yet ne'er have, in my wand'rings, known A wretch, whose sorrows match'd my own!It chanc'd, that after battle fray,. Upon the bloody field we lay; The yellow moon her lustre shed Upon the wounded and the dead, While, sense in toil and wassail drown'd, My ruffian comrades slept around, There came a voice-its silver tone Was soft, Matilda, as thine own-'Ah, wretch 1' it said,'what mak'st thou her, * While unaveng'd my bloody bier, While unprotected lives mine heir,, Without a father's name and care?' XXI;V. "I heard-obey'd-and homeward drew. The fiercest of our desp'rate crew I brought at time of need to aid My purpos'd vengeance,, long delay'd. But, humble be my thanks to Heav'n, That better hopes and thoughts has giv'n, And by our Lord's dear pray'r has taughs.

Page  460 lOIKiBYt. XCAXTO IV Mercy by mercy must be boughtI —,Let me in misery rejoice — I've seen his face-I've heard his voice-. I claim'd of him my only child — As he disown'd the theft, he smil'dl That very calm and callous look, That fiendish sneer his visage took, As when he said, in scornful mood,'There is a gallant in the wood!'I did not slay him as he stoodAll praise be to my Maker giv'n! Long suff'rance is one path to heav'n." IXX. )hus far the woeful tale was heard, When something in the thicket stirr'd. Up Redmond sprung; the villain Guy, (For he it was that lurk'd so nigh,) Drew back —he durst not cross his steel A moment's space with brave O'Neale, For all the treasur'd gold that rests In Mortham's iron-banded chests. Redmond resum'd hisseat-he said, Some roe was rustling in the shade. Bertram laugh'd grinlly, when he saw I1is tim'rous comrade backward draw, "A trusty mate art thou, to fear A single arm, and aid so near! Yet have I seen thee mark a deer. Give me my carabine-I'll show An art that thou wilt gladly know, HIow thou may'st safely quell a foe." XXVL On hands and knees fierce Bertram drew The spreading birch and hazels through, T ill he had Redmond full in view; The gun he levell'd-Mark like this Was Bertraml never known to miss, When itir opp;s'd to aim there sate An object of his mortal hate. That day young Redmtond's death had een, But twice 1Matilda came between'I he carabine and Redmond's breast, Just ere the spring his finger press'd. A deadly oath the ruffian swore, &Bt yet his fell design forbore:

Page  461 "It ne'er," he muttered, "shall be sait, That thus I scath'dthee, haughty maidI" Then mov'd to seek more open aim, When to his side Guy Denzii came: "Bertrairl, forbear!-we are undone For ever, if thou fire the gun. By all the fiends, an armed force Descends the dell, of foot and horse! We perish if they hear a shot]Madman! we have a safer plotNay. friend, be rul'd, and bear thee back! JBehold, down vyonder hollow track, The warlike leader of the band Comes, with his broadsword in his hand.' Bertram look'd up; he saw, he knew That Denzil's fears had counsell'd true, Then curs'd his fortune and withdrew, Threaded the woodlands undescried, And gain'd the cave on Greta side. XXVIL They whom dark Bertram, in his wrath, Doom'd to captivity or death, Their thoughts to one sad subject lent,! aw not nor heard the ambushment. Heedless and unconcern'd they sate, While on the very verge of fate; h-Ieedless and unconcern'd remain'd, When Heaven the murd'rer's arm restrain'd As ships drift darkling down the tide, Nor see the shelves o'er which they glide. Uninterrupted thus they heard What Mortham's closing tale declar'd. He spoke of wealth as of a load, By Fortune on a wretch bestow'd, In bitter mockery of hate, His cureless woes to aggravate; But yet be pray'd Matilda's care Might save that treasure for his heirHis Edith's son-for still he rav'd As confident his life was sav'd; In frequent vision, he averr'd, He saw his face, his voice he heard, Then argued calm-hadl murder been, The blood, the corpses, had been seen; Some had pretended too, to mark On Windermere a stranger bark,

Page  462 %62 Oto'0REBT. 1A7OT Whosem rew, with jealous care, yet mild, Guarded a female and a child. While these faint proofs he told and press'd Hope seem'd to kindle in his breast; Though inconsistent, vague, and vain, It warp'd his judgment, and his brain. XXV1IL These solemn words his story close:- "Heav'n witness for me, that I chose My part in this sad civil fight, Mov'd by no cause but England's right. My country's groans have bid me draw My sword for gospel and for law; — These righted, I fling arms aside, And seek my son through Europe wide, My wealth, on which a kinsman nigh, Already casts a grasping eye, With thee may unsuspected lie. When of my death Matilda hears, Let her retain her trust three years; If none, from me, the treasure clair.i, Perish'd is Mortham's race and name. Then let it leave her gen'rous hand, And flow in bounty o'er the land; Soften the wounded pris'ner's lot, Rebuild the peasant's ruin'd cot; So spoils, acquir'd by fight afar, Shall mitigate domestic war." XXIX. The gen'rous youths, who well had kunow-, Of Mortham's mind the pow'rful tolle, To that high mind, by sorrow swerv'd,. Gave sympathy his woes deserv'd; But Wilfrid chief, who saw reveal'd, Why Mortham wish'd his life conceal'd, In secret, doubtless,to pursue The schemes his wilder'd fancy drew. Thoughtful he heard Matilda tell, That she would share her father's cell, His partner of captivity, Whtre'er his prison house should be; Yet griev'd to think that Rokeby-llll, Dismantled, and forsook by all, Open to rapine and to stealth, aad now no sategttard for the wealth _.'.."..... ~.~Y~. ___IC ~~~~._I~-ULIIIU~ —^-LTI —~ — T~-X-il ~ -~ — ~ i~~=~~~ 1

Page  463 irT0 IV. IoEBT. 4b6 Intrusted by her kinsman kind, And for such noble use design'd. "Was Barnard Cattle then her choice," Wilfrid inquir'd with hasty voice, "Since there the victor's laws ordain, Her father must a space remain?" A flutter'd hope his accents shook, A flutter'd joy was in his look. Matilda hasten'd to reply, For anger flash'd in Redmond's eyeD — "Duty," she said, with gentle grace, "Kind Wilfrid, has no choice of place, Else had I for my sire assign'd Prison less galling to his mind, Than that his wild-wood haunts which sees, And hears the murmur of the Tees, Recalling thus, with ev'ry glance, What captive's sorrow can enhance; But where those woes are highest, there Needs Rokeby most his daughter's care." XXX. He felt the' kindly check she gave, And stood abash'd —then answer'd grave: — "I sought thy purpose, noble maid, Thy doubts to clear, thy schemes to aid. I have beneath mine own command, So wills my sire, a gallant band, And well could send some horseman wight, To bear the treasure forth by night, And so bestow it as you deem In these ill days may safest seem.""Thanks, gentle Wilfrid, thanks," she said:, 0, be it not one day delay'd! And, more thy sister-fciend to aid, Be thou thyself content to hold, In thine own keeping, Mortham's gold, Safest with thee."-While thus she spoke, Arm'd soldiers on their converse broke, The same of whose approach afraid, The ruffians left their ambuscade. Their chief to Wilfrid bended low, Then look'd around as for a foe. "What mean'st thou, friend," young VWycliffe said W hy thus in arms beset the glade?" "That would I gladly learn from you, For up my squadron as I drew,

Page  464 464 ROKEBY. GANTO V. To exercise our martial game Upon the moor of Barninghame, A stranger told you were waylaid, Surrounded, and to death betray'd Hie had a leader's voice, I ween, A falcon glance, a warrior's mien. He bade me bring you instant aid; I doubted not, and I obey'd" XXXL Wilfrid chang'd colour, and amaz'd, Turn'd short, and on the speaker gaz'dj While Redmond ev'ry thicket round Track'd earnest as a questing hound, And Denzil's carabine he found; Sure evidence, by which they knew The warning was as kind as true. Wisest it seem'd, with cautious speed To leave the dell It was agreed, That Redmond, with Matilda fair, And fitting guard, should home repair. At nightfall Wilfrid should attend, With a strong band,his sister.friend, To bear with her from Rokeby's bow-er To Barnard Castle's lofty towers, Secret and safe the banded chests, In which the wealth of Mortham rests. This hasty purpose fix'd, they part, Each with a griev'd and anxious heart. CANTO FIFTIL L T"aE sultry summer day is done, The western hills have hid the sun, But mountain peak and village spire, Retain reflection of his fire. Old Barnard's tow'rs are purple still, To those that gaze from Toller hill; Distant and high, the tower of Bowes Like steel apon the anvil glows; And Stanmore's ridge, behind that lay. Rich with the spoils of parting day, In crimson and in gold array'd, Streaks yet a while the closing shade,

Page  465 CANTO V. ROKEBY. 465 Then slow resigns to dark'ning leaven The tints which brighter hours had given. Thus aged men, tull loath and slow, The vanities of life forego, And count their youthful follies o'er, Till Mem'ry lends her light no more. IL The eve, that slow on upland fades, Has darker clos'd on Rokeby's glades, Where sunk within their banks profound, Her guardian streams to meeting wound. The stately oaks, whose sombre frown Of noontide made a twilight brown, Impervious now to fainter light, Of twilight make an early night. Hoarse into middle air arose - The vespers of the roosting crows, And with congenial murmurs seem To wake the Genii of the stream; Far louder clamour'd Greta's tide, And'lees in deeper voice replied, And fitful wak'd the evening wind, Fitful in sighs its breath resign'd. Wilfrid, whose fancy-nurtur'dsoul Felt in the scene a soft control, With lighter footstep press'd the ground, And often paus'd to look around; And though his path was to his love, Could not but linger in the grove, To drink the thrilling int'rest dear, Of awful pleasure check'd by fear. Such inconsistent moods have we, E'en when our passions strike the key. IIL Now,' through the wood's dark mazes pat,. The op'ning lawn he reach'd at last, Where, silver'd by the moonlight ray, The ancient Hall before him lay.'Those martial terrors long were fled, That frown'd of. old around its head. The battlements, the turrets grey, Seem'd half abandon'd to decay; On barbican and keep of stone 41

Page  466 466 BOKEBY. cA To V. Stern Time the foeman's work ha 1 done. Where banners the invader brav', The harebell now and wallflower Nwa.V'd: In the rude guard-room, where ot yore Their weary hours the warders wore, Now, while the cheerful fagots blae, On the pav'd floor the spindle plays; The flanking guns dismounted lie, The moat is ruinous and dry, The grim portcullis gone-and all'The fortress turn'd to peaceful Hall IV. But yet precautions, lately ta'en, Show'd danger's day reviv'd again, The court-yard wall show'd marks of care, The falrn defences to repair, Lending such strength as might witllstand The insult of marauding band. The beams once more were taught to bear The trembling drawbridge into air, And not till question'd o'er and o'er, For Williid oped the jealous door; And when he enter'd, bolt and bar Resum'd their place with sullen jar; Then, as he cross'd the vaulted porch, The old grey porter rais'd his torch, And view'd him o'er, from toot to head, Ere to the ball his steps he led. That huge old hall, of knightly state, Dismantled seem'd and desolate. Themoon through transom-shafts of stone, Which cross'd the lattic'd oriels, shole, And by the mournful light she gave, The Gothic vault seem'd funeral cave. Pennon and banner wav'd no more O'er beams of stag or tusks of boar, Nor glimmering arms were marshall'd seen, To glance those silvan spoils between. Those arms, those ensigns, borne away, Accomplish'd Rokeby's brave array, But all were lost on Marston's day'! Yet here and there the moonbeams fall Where armour yet adorns the wall, Cumbrous of size, uncouth to sight. And useless in the modern fight!

Page  467 ~i~~I..i. El....rl. a.. Like VEt&'an relic of the wars, Known only by neglected scanr V. Matilda soon to greet him came, And bade them light the evening fiame; Said, all for parting was prepar'd, And tarried but for W.ilfrid's guard; ]But then, reluctant to unfold His father's avarice of gold, Hlie hirted, that left jealous eye Should on their precious burden ptyn He judg'd it best the castle gate To enter when the night'vore late I -And therefore'he had left command With those he trusted of his band, That they should be at Rokeby met, What time the midnight-watch Was set. Now Redmond came, whose anxious cal. Till then was busied to prepare All needful, meetly to arrange The mansion for its mournful change. With Wilfrid's care and kindness pleas'd, I HIis cold unready hand he seiz'd, And press'd it, till his kindly strain, The gentle youth return'd again. Seem'd as between them this was said, A" a while let jealousy be dead; And let our contest be, whose care Shall best assist this helpless fair," VL There was no speech the truce to bind, It was a'con pact of the mind, A gen'rous thought, at once impress'd'On either rival's gen'rous breast. Matilda well the secret took, From sudden change of mien and look; And-for not small had been her fear Of jealous ire and danger nearFelt, ev'n in her dejected state, A joy beyond the reach of fate. They clos'd beside the chimney's blaze, And talk'dand hop'd for happier da,, And lent their spirits' rising goiv..........,... ~_.__.._.......... _..............................

Page  468 A while to gild impending woeq High privilege of youthful time, Worth all the pleasures of our primer The bick'ring fagot sparkl'd bright, And gave the scene of love to sight, Bade Wilfrid's cheek more lively glow, ]Play'd on Matilda's neck of snow, Her nut-brown curls and forehead high, And laugh'd in Redmond's azure eye. Two lovers by the maiden sate, Without a glance of jealous hate; The maid her lovers sat between, With open brow and equal mien; — It is a sight but rarely spied, Thanks to man's wrath and woman's pride, VIL While thus in peaceful guise they sate, A knock alarm'd the outer gate; And ere the tardy porter stirr'd, The tinkling of a harp was heard. A manly voice of mellow swell, Bore burden to the music well. SONG. "Summer eve is gone and past, Summer dew is falling fast; I have wander'd all the day, Do not bid me farther stray! Gentle hearts, of gentle kin, Take the wand'ring harper in!" But the stern porter answer gave, With " Get thee hence, thou strolling knave The king wants soldiers; war, I trow, Were meeter trade for such as thou." At this unkind reproof again Answer'd the ready Minstrel's strain. SONG-restmed.: " Bid not me, in battle-field, Buckler lift, or broadsword wield! All my strength and all my art Is to touch the gentle heart, With the wizard notes that ring From the peaceful minstrel-string,"

Page  469 CAIgTO'. ROLEBY. 1 fThe porter, all unmov'd, replied, — " Depart in peace, with Heav'n to gide.; If longer by the gate thou dwell, " Trust me, thou shalt not part so welL" VIIL With somewhat of appealing look, The Harper's part young WVilfrid took:: "' These notes so wild and ready thrill, They show no vulgar minstrel's skill; Hard were his task to seek a home More distant, since the night is come; And for his faith I dare engageYour Harpool's blood is sour'd by age; His gate, once readily display'd,'To greet the friend, the poor to aid, Now, e'en to me, though known ot old, Did but reluctantly unfbld."-' 0 blame not, as poor Harpool's crimiw An evil of this evil time. He deems dependent on his care, The safety of his patron's heir, Nor judges meet to ope the towr To guest unknown at parting hou4 Urging his duty to excess Of rough and stubborn faithfulness, For this poor harper, I would fain He may relax: —Hark to his strainP SONG-resumed. "I have song of war for knight Lay of love for lady bright,;Fairy tale to lull the heir,, Goblin grim the maids to scare. Dark the night, and long till day, Do not bid me larther strayl Rokeby's lords of martial fame, I can count them name by name;: Legends of.their line there b.e, Known to few, but known to me-; If you honour Rokeby's kin, Take the wand'ring harper inl: Rokeby's lords had fair regard lFor the harp, and for the barri 41' I _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _.~~~~~~~~~~~~.. __________________ ____________~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Page  470 Baron's race throve never well, Where the curse of minstrel felL Ifyou love that noble kin, Take the weary harper inrl."Hark! Harpool parleys-there is hope;' Said Redmond, "that the gate will ope," — -"For all thy brag and boast, I trow,, Nought know'st thou of the Felon Soy Qutoth Harpool, "nor how Greta-side She roam'd, and Rokeby forest wide; Now how Ralph Rokeby gave the beast To Richmond's friars to make a feast. Of Gilbert Griffinson the tale Goes, and of gallant Peter Dale, That well could strike with sword amainm And of the valiant son of Spain, IFriar Middleton, and blithe Sir Ralphg There were a jest to make us laugh! If thou canst tell it in yon shade Thou'st won thy supper and thy bedi.' X. Matilda smil'&; "Cold hope," said shA "From Harpool's love of minstrelsyl But, for this harper, may we dare, Redmond, to mend his couch and fare?'. — -" 0, ask not mel-At minstrel-string My heart from infancy would spring; Nor can I hear its simplest strain, But it brings Erin's dream again, When plac'd by Owen Lysagh's knee, (The Filea of )'Neale was he, A blind and bearded man, whose eldi Was sacred as a prophet's held,) I've seen a ring of rugged kerne, With aspect shaggy, wild and stern Enchanted by the master's lay, Linger around the livelong day, Shift from wild rage to wilder glee, To love, to grieif to ecstasy, And feel each varied change of Non} Obedient to the bard's. control.Ah, Clandeboy l thy friendly floor Sheve-Donard's oak shall light no mo Nor Owen's harp, beside the blaze, Tell maiden's love, or her&'s prails.

Page  471 CAqINo v. RBOKEBY., 71 The mantling brambles hide thy hearth, Centre of hospitable mirth; All undistinguish'd in the glade, My sires' glad home is prostrate laid, Their vassals wander wide and far, Serve foreign lords in distant war, And now the stranger's sons enjoy The lovely woods of Clandeboyl" He spoke, and proudly turn'd aside, The starting tear to dry and hide. XL Matilda's dark and soften'd eye Was glist'ning ere O'Neale's was dry. Her hand upon his arm she laid,"It is the will of heav'n," she said. "And think'st thou, Redmond, I can part From this lov'd home with lightsome heart, Leaving to wild neglect whate'er Ev'n from my infancy was dear? For in this calm domestic bound Were all Matilda's pleasures found. That hearth, my sire was wont to grace, Full soon may be a stranger's place; This hall, in which a child I play'd, Like thine, dear Redmond, lowly laid, The bramble and the thorn may braid; Or, pass'd for aye from me and mine, It ne'er may shelter Rokeby's line. Yet is this consolation giv'n, MTy Redmond,-'tis the will of heav'n." Her word, her action, and her phrase, Were kindly as in early days; For cold reserve had lost its pow'r, In sorrow's sympathetic hour. Young Redmond dar'd not trust his voice ]But rather had it been his choice To share that melancholy hour, Than, arm'd with all a chieftain's pow'r, In full possession to enjoy Slieve-Donard wide, and Clandeboy. xIIr The blood left Wilfrid's ashen cheek; Matilda sees, and hastes to speak." Happy in friendship's ready aid. Let all my murmurs here be staid!

Page  472 LKOEBY. UANo V. And Rokeby's Maiden will not part From Rokeby's hall with moody e;lart. This night at least, for Rokeby's fale, The hospitable hearth shall flame, And, ere its native heir retire, Find for the wand'rer rest and fire, While this poor harper, by the blaze, Recounts the tale of other days. Bid Harpool ope the door with speed, Admit him, and relieve each need.Meantime, kind Wycliffe, wilt thou try Thy minstrel skill?-Nay, no replyAnd look not sad!-I guess thy thought, Thy verse with laurels would be bought; And poor Matilda, landless now, Has not a garland for thy brow. True, 1 must leave sweet Rokeby's glades, Nor wander more in Greta shades; But sure, no rigid jailer, thou Wilt a short prison walk allow, Where summer flow'rs grow wild at will, On Marwood-chase and Toller Hill; Then holly green and lily gay Shall twine in guerdon of thy lay." The mournful youth, a space aside, To tune Matilda's harp applied; And then a low sad descant rung, As prelude to the lay he sumng. XIIL SONG. THE CYPRESS WREATH. O, Lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress-tree! Too lively glow the lilies light, The varnish'd holly's all too bright, The May-flow'r and the eglantine May shade a brow less sad than mine; But, Lady, weave no wreath for me, Or weave it of the cypress-tree! Let dimpledMirth his temples twine With tendrils of the laughing vine; The manly oak, the pensive yew, To patriot and to sage be due; The myrtle bouah bids lovers live, But that Matilda will not give;!..~ _~___ ____ _________-I__ --

Page  473 ONTO. ROKI}BY. 473 Then, Lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress-tree! Let merry England proudly rear Her blended roses, bou ht so dear, Let Albin bind her bonnet biue With heath and harebell dipp'd in dew; On favour'd Erin's crest be seen The flow'r she loves of em'rald greenBut, Lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress-tree. Strike the wild harp, while maids prepare The ivy meet for minstrel's hair; And, while his crown of laurel-leaves With bloody hand the victor weaves, Let the loud trump his triumph tell; But when you.hear the passing bell, Then, Lady, twine a wreath for me, And twine it of the cypress-tree. Yes! twine for me the cypress bough; But, 0 Matilda, twine not now! Stay till a'few brief months are past, And I have look'd and lov'd my last! When villagers my shroud bestrew. With panzies, rosemary, and rue,Then, Lady, weave a wreath for me, And weave it of the cypress-tree. XIV. O'Neale observ'd the starting tear, And spoke with kind and blithesome cheer" No, noble Wilfiidl ere the day When mourns the land thy silent lay, Shall many a wreath be freely wove By hand of friendship and of love. I would not wish that rigid Fate Had doom'd thee to a captive's state, Whose hands are bound by honour's law Who wears a sword he must not draw; But were it so, in minstrel pride The land together would we ride, On prancing steeds, like harpers old, Bound for the halls of barons bold, Each lover of the lyre we'd seek, From Michael's Mount to Skiddaw's Peak, Survey wild Albin's mountain strand, And roam green Erin's lovely land,

Page  474 47 t RonrEB. as While thou the gentler souls should move, With lay of pity and of love, And I, thy mate, in rougher strain, Would sing of war and warriors slain. Old England's bards were vanquish'd then, And Scotland's vaunted Hawthornden, Anal, silenc'd on Iernian shore, M'Curtin's harp should charm no morel" In lively mood he spoke, to wile From Wilfrid's woe-worn cheek a smile. XV. " But," said Matilda, "ere thy name, Good Redmond, gain its destin'd fame, Say, wilt thou kindly deign to call Thy brother-minstrel to the hall? Bid all the household, too, attend, Each in his rank a humble friend; I know their faithful hearts will grieve, When their poor Mistress takes her leave So let the horn and beaker flow To mitigate their parting woe." The harper came;-in youth's first prime Himself; in mode of olden time IHis garb was fashion'd, to express The ancient English minstrel's dress, A seemly gown of Kendal green, With gorget clos'd of silver sheen; His harp in silken scarf was slung, And by his side an anlace hung. It seem'd some masquer's quaint array, For revel or for holiday. XVI. He made obeisance with a free Yet studied air of courtesy. Each look and accent, fram'd to please, Seem'd to affect a playful ease; His lace was of that doubtful kind, That wins the eye, but not the mind; Yet harsh it seem'd to dem amiss Of brow so young and smooth as this., His was the subtle look and sly, That, spying all, seems nought to spy; Round all the group his glances stoleo Unmark'd themselves to mark the whole.

Page  475 AN ro V. ItRHBo. Yet sunk beneath Matilda's look, Nor could the eye of Redmond brook. To the suspicious, or the old, Subtle and dangerous and bold Had seem'd this self-invited guest; But young our lovers,-and the rest, Wrapt in their sorrow and their fear At parting of their Mistress dear, Te'ar-blinded to the Castle-hall, Came as to bear her funeral pall XVIL All that expression base was gone, When wak'd the guest his minstrel toue; It fled at inspiration's call, As erst the demon fled from Saul. MIore noble glance he cast arounid, More free-drawn breath inspir'd the soindS His pulse beat bolder and more high, In all the pride of minstrelsy! Alas! too soon that pride was o'er, Sunk with the lay that bade it soar! His soul resurn'd, with habit's chain, Its vices wild and follies vain, And gave the talent, with him born, To be a common curse and scorn. Such was the youth whom Rokeby's Maid With condescending kindness, pray'd Here to renew the strain she lov'd, At distance heard and well approv'd. XVIIi. SONG. TIlE HA"B. I was a wild and wayward boy, My childhood scorn'd each childish toy; Retir'd from all, reserv'd, and coy, To musing prone, I woo'd my solitary joy, My harp alone. biy youth, with bold Ambition's mood, Despis'd the humble stream and wood, Where my poor father's cottage stood, To fame unknown;WLtat should my soaring views make gtod? My harp aloae

Page  476 176 ROKEBY. CATO v Love came with all his frantic fire, And wild romance of vain desire: The baron's daughter heard my lyre, And prais'd the tone;What could presumptuous'hope inspire? My harp alone! At manhcnd's touch the bubble burst, And manhood's pride the vision curst, And all that had my folly nurs d Love's sway to own, Yet spar'd the spell that lull'd me first, My harp alonel Woe came with war, and want with woo;'And it was mine to undergo Each outrage of the rebel toe: — Can aught atone My fields laid waste, my cot laid low? My harp alone! Ambition's dreams I've seen depart, Have rued of penury the smart, Have lelh ot love the venom'd dart, When hope was flown; Yet rests one solace to my heart, — My harp alonel Then over mountain, moor, and hill, My faithtul IHarp, I'll bear thee swill, And when this life of want and ill Is well nigh gone, Thy strings mine elegy shall thrill, My Harp alonel XIX. "A pleasing layl" Matilda said; But Harpool shook his old grey head. And took his baton and his torch, To seek his guard-room in the porch. Edmund observed-with sudden chalte, Among the strings his fingers range, Until they wak'd a bolder glee Of militar- melody: Then paus'd amid the martial sound, And look'd with weil.feign'd fear arouiL, "None to this noble house belong," EHe said, "that would a Minstrel wroug, Whose fate has been, throu h good and ill, To love his Royal Master still;

Page  477 And, with your honour'd leave, would fain Rejoice you with a loyal strain." Then, as assured by sign and look, The warlike tone again he took; And Harpool stopp'd, and turn'd to hear A ditty of the Cavalier. SONG. THE CAVALIER. While the dawn on the mountain was misty and grey My true love has mounted his steed and away, Over hill, over valley, o'er dale, and o'er down; Heaven shield the brave Gallant that fights for the Crownl He has doff'd the silk doublet the breast-plate to bear, He has placed the steal-cap o'er his long flowing hair, From his belt to his stirrup his broadsword hangs down,- - Heaven shield the brave Gallant that fights for the Crown! For the rights of fair England that broadsword he draws Her King is his leader, her Church is his cause; HIis watchword is honour,hispay is renown,God strike with the Gallant that strikes for the Crown. They may boast of their Fairfax, their Waller, and all The round-headcd rebels of Westminster Hall; But tell these bold traitors of London's proud town, That the spears of the North have encircled the Crown. There's Derby and Cavendish, dread of their foes, There's Erin's high Ormond, and Scotland's Montrose I Would you match the base.Skippon, and Massey, and Brown, With the Barons of England, that fight for the Crownl Now joy to the crest of the brave Cavalier! Be his banner unconquer'd, resistless dis spear, T'il in peace and in triumph his toils he may drown, In a pledge to fair England, her Church, and her Crown,.XXL "Alas!" Matilda said, "that strain, Good harper, now is heard in vainl The time has been, at such a sound, When Rokeby's vassals gather'd romll, An hundred manly hearts woult boal: I ---------- -~~~~~~~4~

Page  478 78Zs ROtEI~EBt. aft | 0 ]Bt now, the stirring verse we hea, Like trump in dying soldier's ear! Listless and sad the notes we own, The pow'r to answer them is flown. Yet not without his meet applause Be he that sings the rightful cause,:Ev'n when the crisis ot'its fate To human eye seems desperate. While Rokeby's Heir such pow'r retainkt Iet this slight guerdon pay thy pains. —i And, lend thy harp; I fain would try, If my poor skill can aught supply, re yet I leave my fathers' hall, To mourn the cause in which we fall." XXIL The'harper, with a downcast look, And trembling hand, her bounty took.As yet, the conscious pride of art IEad steel'd him in his treach'roas part; A pow'rful spring, of force unguess'd, That hath each gentler mood suppress':,, And reign'd in many a human breastj; From his th-lt plans the red campaiga, To his that wastes the woodland,, The'failing wing, the blood-shot eye,-i The sportsman marks with apathy, Each feeling of his victim's ill Drown'd in his own successful skill The vet'ran, too, who now no more Aspires to head the battle's roar, i-Loves still the triumph of his art, And traces on the pencill'd chart Some stern invader's destin'd way, Through blood and ruin to his preysp IPatriots to death, and towns to flame. HIe dooms, to raise another's name, And shares the guilt, though not the fan*. What pays him for his span of tinme Spent in premeditated crime? What against pity arms his heart? — It is the conscious pride of at. XXIIL But principles in Edmund's mind I Were baseless, vague, and utdcfin'd& * -~ ~~~~~~~~~~________ _________________________________________________________ ________L ~ —-~ —I

Page  479 gallo T. NoXnEo 4 His soud, like bark with rudder lost, On Passion's changeful tide was teost; Nor Vice nor Virtue had the pow'r Beyond th' impression of the hour; And, 01 when Passion rules, how rare The hours that fall to Virtue's share! Yet now she rous'd her-for the pride, That lack of sterner guilt supplied, Could scarce support him when arose The lay that mourn'd Matilda's woes. SONG. THE FAREWELL. The sound of Rokeby's woods I lear, They mingle with the song: Dark Greta's voice is in mine ear, I must not hear them long. From ev'ry lov'd and native haunt The native Heir must stray, And, like a ghost whom sunbeams Oduint, Must part before the day. Soon from the halls my fathers reasr':, Their scutcheons may descend. A line so long belov'd and fear'd May soon obscurely end. No longer here Matilda's tone Shall bid these echoes swell; Yet shall they hear her proudly ow:t The cause in which we fell.?'Jhe Lady paus'd, and then again lUesum'd the lay in loftier strain. Let our halls and tow'rs decay, Be our name and line forgot, Lands and manors pass away,We but share our Monarch's lob If no more our annals shotw Battles won and-banners taken, Still in death, defeat, and woe, Ours be loyalty unshaken! Constant still in danger's hour, Princes own'd our fathers' eiid; Lands and honours, wealth and pow't, Well their Inyalty repaid.

Page  480 ~ 5tS. aROKF.BY. CANO Perish wealth, and pow'r, and pride! Mortal boons by mortals given; But let Constancy abide,Constancy's the gift of Heaven. XXV. While thus Matilda's lay was heard, A thousand thoughts in Edmund stirr'd. In peasant life he might have known As fair a face, as sweet a tone; But village notes could ne'er supply That rich and varied nlelody; And ne'er in cottage-maid was seen The easy dignity of mien, Claiming respect, yet waving state, That marks the daughters of the great, Yet not, perchance, had ihese alone His scheme of purpos'd guilt o'erthrown. But while her energy of mind Superior rose to griefs combin'd, Lending its kindling to her eye, Giving her form new majesty To Edmund's thought Matilda seem'd The very object he had dream'd; When, long ere guilt his soul had known, In Winston bow'rs he mus'd alone, Taxing his fancy to combine The face, the air, the voice divine, Of princess fair, by cruel fate Reft of her honours, p)w'r, and state, Till to her rightful realm restor'd By destin'd hero's conqu'ring sword. XXVL "Such was my visionl" Edmund thought; And have I, then, the ruin wrought Of such a maid, that fancy ne'er In fairest vision form'd her peer? Was it my hand that could unclose The postern to her ruthless foes? Foes, lost to honour, law, and faith, Their kindest mercy sudden death! Have I done this? I I who have swore, That if the globe such angel bore, I would have trac'd its circle broad, To kiss the ground on which she trodel

Page  481 CANTO V. ROKEBY. 481 A nd now-O! would that earth woulds ve, And close upon me while alive!Is there no hope? Is all then lost?Bertram's already on his postl Ev'n now, beside the Hall's arch'd door, I saw his shadow cross the floorl He was to wait my signal strain A little respite thus we gain: By what I heard the menials say, Young Wycliffe's troop are on their wayAlarm precipitates the crime! My harp must wear away the time."And then, in accents faint and low, He falter'd forth a tale of woe. XXVIL BALLAD. "And whither would you lead me, then?" Quoth the Friar of orders grey; And the Ruffians twain replied again, "By a dying woman to pray.""I see," he said, a "lovely sight, A sight bodes little harm, A lady as a lily bright, With an infant on her arm.""Then do thine office, Friar grey, And see thou shrive her free! Else shall the sprite, that parts to-night, Fling all its guilt on thee. "Let mass be said, and trentals read, When thou'rt to convent gone, And bid the bell of St Benedict Toll out its deepest tone." The shrift is done, the Friar is gone, Blindfolded as he came-, Next morning, all in Littlecot Hall Were weeping for their dame. Wild Darrell is an alter'd man, The village crones can tell; He looks pale as clay, and strives to pray, If he hears the convent bell. If prince or peer cross Darrell's way, He'll beard him in his prideIf he meet a Friar of orders grey, lie droops and turns aside. 425

Page  482 482 BOBI, CANTO Vo XXV1IL "Harper! rethinks thy magic la)ys," Matilda said, "can goblins raise t Well nigh my fancy can discern, Near the dark porch, a visage stern; E'en now, in yonder shadowy noon, I see itl Redmond, Wilfrid, look! — A humau form distinct and clear — God, for thy imercyl —It draws near I" She saw too true. Stride after strilu, The centre of.that chamber wide Fierce Bertram gain'd; then made a -tan~d And, proudly waving with his hand, Thunder'd —", Be still, upon your lives!He bleeds who speaks, he dies who strives." Behind their chief, the robber crepw Forth from the darken'd portal drew, In silence-save that echo dread Return'd their heavy measur'd tread. The lamp's uncertain lustre gave Their arms to gleam, their plumes to waves File after file in order pass, Like forms on Banquo's mystic glass. Then, halting at their leader's sign, At once they form'd and curv'd their line, Hemming within its crescent drear Their victims, like a herd of deer.' Another sign, and to the aim Levell'd at once their muskets came, As waiting but their chieftain's WOld, To make their: fatal volley heard. XXlX. Back in a heap the menials drew; Yet, ev'n in mortal terror, true, Their pale and startled group oppose Between Matilda and the foes. " O, haste thee, Wilfridl" Redmond cried: Undo that wicket by thy sidel Bear hence Matilda-gain the woodThe pass masy be a while made goodThy band, ere this, must sure be nigh — O speak not-dally not-but flyl" While yet the crowd their motions hide, Through the low wicket door they glide. Through vaulted passages they wind, In Gothic intricacy twin'd;

Page  483 9DANTO It. os Y 483 Wilfrid halfled, and half he bore, Matilda to the postern-door, And safe beneath the forest tree, The lady stands at liberty; The moonbeams, the fresh gale's carers, Renew'd suspended consciousness;Ii | S ~"Where's Redmond?.' eagerly she cries" Thou answer'st not-he dies! he.diesi And thou hast left him, all bereft.Of mortal aid-with murd'rers left! I know it well-he would not yield His sword to man —-his doom is seal'd! For my scorn'd life, which thou hast bought At price of his, I thank thee aOt.". xxX'Th' unjust reproach, the angry look, The heart of Wilfrid could not brook,!' Lady," he said, "my band so near, In safety thou mayst rest thee here. For Redmond's death thou shalt not mrouru If mine can buy his safe return." I e turn'd away-his heart throbb'd higb, The tear was bursting from his eye; The sense of her injustice press'd Upon the Maid's distracted breast,-. Stay, Wilfrid, stay! all aid is vain!" He heaxd, but turn'd him not again; He reaches now the postern-door, 9 ow enters-and is seen no more. X.XXL' With all the agony that e'er Was gender'd'twixt suspense and fea.r She watch'd the line of windows tall, Whose Gothic lattice lights the Halls Distinguish'd by the paly red The lamps in dim reflection shed, While all beside in wan moonlight Each grated casement glimmer'd white, No sight of harm, no sound of ill, It is a deep and midnight still.' Who look'd upon the scene, had guess'4 All in the Castle were at rest: When sudden on the windows shone A light'ning flash, Just seen and gone!

Page  484 4~4 XBOKIEBr c ATO T A shot is heard —Againa the flame Flash'd thick and fast-a volley came; Then echo'd wildly, from within, Of shout and scream the mingled din, And weapon-clash and madd'ning cry, Of those who kill, and those who die! — As fili'd the Hall with sulph'rous smcite, More red, more dark, the death-flash brokeAnd forms were on the lattice cast, That struck or struggledi as they past. XXXIL What sounds upon the midnight wind Approach so rapidly behind? It is, it is the tramp of steeds, Matilda hears the sound, she speeds, Seizes upon the leader's rein — " O, haste to aid,. ere aid be vain' Fly to the postern-gain the Halll' From saddle spring the troopers all; Their gallant steeds, at liberty, Run wild along the moonlight lea But, ere they burst upon the scene, Full stubborn had the conflict been. When Bertram mark'd Matilda's flig;t, It gave the signal for the fight; And Rokeby's vet'rans, sean'!d with scanr Of Scotland's and of Erin's wars, Their momentary panic o'er, Stood to the arms which then they bore (For they were weapon'd, and prepar'd Their Mistress on her way to guard.) Then cheer'd them to the fight O'Ncale, Then peal'd the shot, and clash'd the stceli The war-smoke soon with sable breath Darken'd the scene of blood and death, While on the few defenders close The Bandits, with redoubled blows, And twice driv'n back, yet fierce and fell, Renew the charge with frantic yell. XXXa. Wilfrid has faW'n-but o'er him stood Young Redmond, soil'd with smoke and blood, Cheering his mates with heart and hand Still to make good their desp'rate stand.

Page  485 "Up, comrades, up! In Rokeby's halls Ne'er be it said our courage falls. W~hatl faint ye for their savage cry,'Or do the smoke-wreaths daunt your eye? These rafters have return'd a shout As loud at Rokeby's wassail rout, As thick a.smoke these hearths have given At Hallow-tide or -Christmas-even. Stand to it yet';renew the fght, For Rokeby's and Matilda's right! These slaves! they dare not, hand to hand, Bide buffet from a true man's brand." Impetuous, active, fierce, and young, Upon th' advancing foes he sprung. AWoe to the wretch at whom is bent His brandish'd falchion's sheer descent! Jackward they scatter'd as he came, Like wolves before the levin flame, When, mid their howling conclave driven, Bath glanc'd the thunderbolt of heaven.:Bertram rush'd on-but Harpool clasp'd, THis knees, although in death he gasp'd, Whis falling corpse before him flung, And round the trammell'd ruffian clung. Just then, the soldiers fill'd the dome, And, shouting, charg'd the felons home So fiercely, that in panic dread, They broke, they yielded, fell, or fled, Bertram's stern voice they heed no more, lThough heard above the battle's roar; While, trampling down the dying man, HFie strove. with volley'd threat and ban, In scorn of odds, in fate's despite, To rally up the desp'rate fight. XXXIV. eoow murkier clouds the Hall enfold,'Than e'er from battle-thunders Toll'd So dense, the combatants scarce know'Po aim or to avoid the blow. Smoth'ring and blindfold grows the fightBut soon shall dawn a dismal light! L[id cries, and clashing arms, there came'rhe hollow sound of rushing flame; New horrors on the tumult dire Ari'zsetho Castle is on firel

Page  486 Doubtful, if ebaace had cast the brasd, Or frantic Bertram's desp'rate hand. MIatilda saw -— for frequent broke From-the dim casements bursts of smoke. Ton tower, which late so clear defin'd On the fair hemisphere reclin'd, IThat, pencill'd on its azure pure, The eye could count each embrasure, Now, swath'd within the sweeping cloudk Seems giant-spectre in his shroud; Till, from each loop-hole flashing light,, A spout of fire shines ruddy bright, And, gath'ring to united glare, Streams high into the midnight air; A dismal beacon, far'and wide, That waken'd Greta's slumb'ring side.. Soon. all beneath, through gall'ry long And pendant arch, the fire ash'd strong& Snatching whatever could maintain, Raise, or extend its furious reign; Startling, with closer cause of dread, The females who the conflict fled, And now rush'd forth upon the plain, Filling the air with clamours vain. i TUUXV. But eeas'd not yet, the Hall within, The shriek, the shout, the carnage-din, Till bursting lattices give proof'The flames have caught the rafter'd roof, Whatl wait they till its beams amain Crash on the slayers and the slain? Th' alarm is caught-the drawbridge fal/ The warriors hurry from the walls, But, by the coniflagration's light, Upon the lawn renew the fight. Each straggling felon down was hew'd, Not one could gain the shelt'ring woodc ]But forth th' affrighted harper sprung, And to Matilda's robe he clung. Her shriek, entreaty, and command Stopp'd the pursuer's lifted hand, ])enzil and he alive were ta'ern The rest, save Bertram, all are slai XXXVL. And where is Bertram?-Soaring higk The gen'ral flame ascends the, Aky

Page  487 CANTO V, ROKEBY. 487 In gather'd group the soldiers gaze Upon the broad and soaring blaze, When, like infernal demon, sent Red from his penal element, To plague and to pollute the air,His face all gore, on fire -his hair, Forth from the central: mass of smoke The giant form of Bertram broke! His brandish'd sword on high he-rears, Then plung'd among opposing spears; Round his left arm his mantle truss'd, Receiv'd and foil'd three lances' thrust. Nor these his headlong course withstood, Like reeds he snapp'd the tough ash-wood, In vain his foes around him clung; With matchless force aside he flung Their boldest,-as the bull, at bay, Tosses the ban-dogs from his way, Through forty foes his path he made, And safely gain'd the forest glade. XXXVIL Scarce was this final conflict o'er, When from the postern Redmond bore Wilfrid, who, as of life bereft, Had in the fatal Hall been left. Deserted there by all his train; But Redmond saw, and turn'd again. — Beneath an oak he laid him down, That in the blaze gleam'd ruddy brown, And then his mantle's clasp undid; Matilda held his drooping head, Till, giv'n to breathe the Areer air, Returning life repaid their care. He gaz'd on them with heavy sigh, — " I could have wish'd ev'n thus to diel" No more he said-for now with speed Each trooper had regaia'd his steed; The ready palfreys stood array'd, For Redmond and for Rokeby's Maid; Two Wilfrid on his horse sustain, One leads his charger by the rein. But oft Matilda look'd behind, As up the vale of Tees they wind, Where far the mansion of her sires Beacon'd the dale with midnight fires. In gloomy arch above them spread, The clouded heavin lower'd bloody red:

Page  488 488 ROKEBDY. CAIrTO VL Beneath, in sombre light, the flood Appear'd to roll in waves of blood. Then, one by one, was heard to fall The tow'r, the donjon-keep, the hall. Each rushing down with thunder sound, A space the conflagration drown'd; Till, gath'ring strength, again it rose, Announc'd its triumph in its close, Shook. wide its light the landscape o'er, Then Bsunk-and Rokeby was no morel CANTO SIXTIL L Tis summer sun, whose early pow'r Was wont to gild Matilda's bow'r, And rouse her with his matin ray Her duteous orisons to pay, That morning sun has three times seen The flow'rs unfold on Rokeby green, But sees no more the slumbers fly From fair Matilda's hazel eye; That morning sun has three times broke On Rokeby's glades of elm and oak, But, rising from their silvan screen, Marks no grdy turrets' glance between. A shapeless mass lie keep and tow'r, That, hissing to the morning show'r, Can but with smould'ring vapour pay The early smile of summer day. The peasant, to his labour bound, Pauses to view the blacken'd mound, Striving, amid the ruin'd space, Each well-remember'd spot to trace. That length of frail and fire-scorch'd wall Once screen'd the hospitable hall; When yonder broken arch was whole,'Twas there was dealt the weekly dole; And where you tott'ring columns nod, The chapel sent the hymn to God. — So flits the world's uncertain span! Nor zeal for God, nor love for man, Gives mortal monuments a date Beyond the pow'r of Time and Fate. The tow'rs must share the builder's doom; Ruin is theirs, and his a tomb:

Page  489 CANTO VL ROKEBY. R.9 But better boon benignant Heav'n To Faith and Charity has giv'n, And bids the Christian hope sublime Transcend the bounds of Fate and Time, IL Now the third night of summer came, Since that which witness'd Rokeby's flame. On Brignall cliffs and Scargill brake The owlet's homilies awake, The bittern scream'd from rush and flag, The raven slumber'd on the crag, Forth from his den the otter drew,Grayling and trout their tyrant knew, As between reed and sedge he peers, With fierce round snout and sharpen'd ears, Or, prowling by the moonbeam cool, Watches the stream or swims the pool; — Perch'd on his wonted eyrie high, Sleep seal'd the tercelet's wearied eye, That all the day had watch'd so well The cushat dart across the dell. In dubious beam reflected shone That lofty cliff of pale grey stone, Beside whose base the secret cave To rapine late a refuge gave. The crag's wild crest of copse and yew On Greta's breast dark shadows threw; Shadows that met or shunn'd the sight, With every change of fitful light; As hope and fear alternate chase Our course through life's uncertain race. IIL Gliding by crag and copsewood green, A solitary form was seen To trace with stealthy pace the wold, Like fox that seeks the midnight fold, And pauses oft, and cow'rs dismay'd, At ev'ry breath that stirs the shade. He passes now the ivy bush,The owl has seen him, and is hush; He passes now the dodder'd oak,He heard the startled raven croak; Lower and lower he'descends, Rustle the leaves, the brushwood bendse 43

Page  490 490 ROtKE1Y. AmNTO VT. The otter hears him tread the shore, And dives, and is beheld no more; And by the cliff of pale grey stone The midnight wand'rer stands alone. Methinks, that by the moon we trace A well-remember'd form and face! That stripling shape, that cheek so pale, Combine to tell a rueful tale, Of pow'rs misus'd, of passion's force, Of guilt, of grief, and of remorse!'Tis Edmund's eye, at ev'ry sound That flings that guilty glance around;'Tis Edmund's trembling haste divides The brushwood that the cavern hides; And, when its narrow porch lies bare,'Tis Edmund's form that enters there. IV. His flint and steel have sparkl'd bright, A lamp hath lent the cavern light. Fearful and quick his eye surveys Each angle of the gloomy maze. Since last he left that stern abode, It seem'd as none its floor had trod; Untouch'd appear'd the various spoil, The purchase of his comrades' toil; Masks and disguises grim'd with mud, Arms broken and defil'd with blood, And all the nameless tools that aid Night-felons in their lawless trade, Upon the gloomy walls were hung, Or lay in nooks obscurely flung. Still on the sordid board appear The relies of the noontide cheer: Flagons and empty flasks were there, And bench o'erthrown, and shatter'd cha{k And all around the semblance show'd As when the final revel glow'd, When the red sun was setting fast, And parting pledge Guy Denzil past. "To Rokeby treasure-vaults!" they quaff'd, And shouted loud and wildly laugh'd, Pour'd madd'ning from the rocky door, And parted-to return no more! They found in Rokeby vaults their doom,A bloody death, a burning tombl V. There his own peasant dress he spies, Doi'd to assume that quaint disguise;

Page  491 A NrOr vI. O0KEDBY. 491 And shudd'ring thought upon his glee, When prank'd in garb of minstrelsy. " O, be the fatal art accurst,". He cried, " that mov'd my folly first; Till, brib'd by bandits' base applause, 1 burst through-God's and Nature's laws! Three summer days are scantly past Silce I have trod this cavern last, A thoughtless wretch, and prompt to err,,But,' O, as yet no murderer! Ev'n now I list my comrades' cheer, That gen'ral laugh is in mine ear, Which rais'd my pulse, and steel'd my heart, As I rehears'd my treach'rous partAnd would that all since then could seem The phantom of a fever's dream I But fatal Mem'ry notes too well The horrors of the dying yell, From my despairing mates that broke, When flash'd the fire and roll'd the smoke; When the avengers shouting came, And hemm'd us'twixt the sword and flame! My frantic flight,-the lifted brand — That angel's interposing hand!It, fbr my life from slaughter freed, I yet could pay some grateful meed! Perchance this object of my quest May aid"-he turn'd, nor spoke the rest. VL Due northward from the rugged hearth, With paces five he metes the earth, Then toil'd with mattock to explore The entrails of the cavern floor, Nor paus'd till, deep beneath the ground, His search a small steel casket found. Just as he stoop'd to loose -its hasp, /His shoulder felt a giant grasp. He started, and look'd up aghast, Then shriek'd.. —Twas Bertram held hi'm fast " Fear notl" he. said;:but who could hear That deep stern voice, and cease to fear? Fear not!-By heav'n he shakes as much As partridge in the faicon's clutch:" He rais'd him, and unloos'd.his hold, While from the op'ning casket roll'd. A chain an reliquaire of gold.

Page  492 492 RAIBY,'A N O Bertram beheld it with surprise, Gaz'd on its fashion and device, Then, cheering Edmund as he could, Somewhat he smooth'd his rugged mood: For still the youth's half-lifted eye Quiver'd with terror's agony, And sidelong glanc'd, as to explore, In meditated flight, the door. " Sit," Bertram said, " from danger free: Thou canst not, and'thou shalt not, flee. Chance brings me hither: hill and plain I've sought for refuge-place in vain. And tell me now, thou aguish boy, What mak'st thou here? what means this toy? Denzil and thou, I mark'd, were ta'en; What lucky chance unbound your chain? I deem'd, long since on Baliol's tow'r, Your heads were warp'd with sun and showr. Tell me the whole-and, mark! nought e'er Chafes me like falsehood, or like fear." Gath'ring his courage to his aid, But trembling still, the youth obey'd. VIL "Denzil and I two nights pass'd o'er In fetters on the dungeon floor. A guest the third sad morrow brought; Our hold dark Oswald Wycliffe sought, And ey'd my comrade long askance, With fix'd and penetrating glance.'Guy Denzil art thou call'd?'-' The same.' — At Court who serv'd wild Buekinghame; Thence banish'd, won a keeper's place, So Villiers will'd, in Marwood-chase; That lost-I need not tell thee whyThou mad'st thy wit thy wants supply, Then fought for Rokeby:-Have I guess'd My pris'ner right?' —' At thy behest.'He paus'd a while, and then went on With low and confidential tone; — Me, as Ijudge, not then he saw, Close nestl'd in my couch of straw.-'List to me, Guy. Thou know'st the great Have frequent need of what they hate; Hence, in their favour o:t we see Unscrupl'd, useful men like thee. Were I dispos'd to bid thee live, What pledge of faith hast thou to give?'

Page  493 CANTO VL' ROKEBY, -493 VIIL a The ready Fiend, who never yet Hath fail'd to sharpen Den, it's wit, Prompted his lie-' His only child Should rest his pledge.'-The Baron smil'd, And turn'd to me-' Thou art his son?' I bow'd-our fetters were undone, And we were led to hear apart A dreadful lesson of his art. Wilfrid, he said, his heir and son, Had fair Matilda's favour won; And long since had their union been, But for her father's bigot spleen, Whose brute and blindfold party-rage Would, force per force, her hand engage To a base kern of Irish earth, Unknown his lineage aced his birth, Save that a dying ruffian bore The infant brat to Rokeby door. Gentle restraint, he said, would lead Old Rokeby to enlarge his creed; But fair occasion he must. find For such restraint well-meant and kind, The Knight being render'd to his. charge But as a prisoner at large. "He school'd us in a well-forg'd tale, Of scheme the Castle walls to scale,, To which was leagued each Cavalier That dwells upon the Tyne and Wear; That Rokeby, his parole forgot, Had dealt with us to aid the plot.. Such was the charge, which Denzil's zeal Of hate to Rokeby and O'Neale Proffer'd, as witness, to make good, Ev'n though the forfeit were their blood. I scrupled, until o'er and o'er His pris'ners' safety Wycliffe swore; And then-alas; what needs there more? I knew I should not live to say The proffer I refus'd that day; Ashatn'd to live, yet loath to die, I soil'd me with their infamyl"-' Poor youth," said Bertr am, "wav'ring still 43* l~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~- i_~_~ —-— ~ —~-

Page  494 194 florE:BT'. %cIAO V Bat what fbll next?'" —', Soon es at large Was scroll'd and sigrn'd our fatal charge, There, on tragic stage, Was seen so well a painted rage, As Oswald's show'd! With loudalarm He call'd his garrison to arm; J From tow'r to tow'r, from post to post, He hurried as if all were lost;. "Consigu'd to dungeon and to chain The good old knight and all his trainj Warn'd each suspected Cavalier,. Within his limits, to appear To-morrow, at the hour of noon, In the high church oi Eglistone."',-. Of Eglistone! —Ev'n now I pass'd,"'Said Bertram, " as the night clos'd fast; Torches and cressets gleam'd around, I heard the saw and hammer sound,And I could mark they toil'd to raise.A scaffold, hung with sable baize, Which the grim headsman's scene display'd Block, axe, and sawdust ready laid.: Some evil deed will there be done, Unless Matilda wed his son;*i She loves him not-'tis shrewdly guess'd That Redmond rules the damsel's breast. ] This is a turn of Oswald's skill; But I may meet, and foil him still!How cam'st thou to thy freedom?"-" There Lies mystery more dark and rare. In midst of Wycliffe's well feign'd rage, A scroll was offer'd by a page, Who told, a muffled horsemen late.Had left it at the Castle gate. He broke the seal —his cheek show'd chang,, Sudden, portentous, wild, and strange; The mimi passion of his eye His hand like summer sapling shook, Terror and guilt were in his look. Denzil he judg'd, in time of need, Fit counsellor for evil deed; And thus apart his counsel broke While with a ghastly smile he spoke:-.X i.4,. i

Page  495 UCANTO rIt 49) XL "' As in the pageants of the stage, The dead awake in this wild age, Mortham —whom -all men deel'd decreed In his own deadly snare to bleed, Slain by a bravo, whom, o'er sea, He train'd to aid in murd'ring me,MAortham has'scapedl The coward shot The steed, but harm'd the rider not.' Here, with an execration fell, I Bertram leap'd up, and pac'd the celo: — "T hine own grey head, or bosom dall'iv' lHe mutter'd' " may be surer mark!" Then sat, and sign'd to Edmund, pale With terror, to resume his tale. "Wycliffe went on:-' Mark with what fliglht Of wilder'd reverie he writes~ THE LETTER. ( Ruler of Mortham's destiny! Though dead, thy victim lives to thee. Once had he all that binds to life A lovely child, a lovelier wife; Wealth, fame, and friendship, were his oW-ff Thou gav'st the word, and they are flown, Mark how he pays thee:-To thy hand He yields his hollours and his lind, One boon premis'd;-Restore his childl And, from his native land exii'd, Mortham no more returns to claim His lands, his honours, or his name; Refuse him this, and from the slain Thou shalt see Mortham rise again.L'XIL' This billet while the baron read, His falt'ring accents show'd his dread; He press'd his forehead with his painm, Then took a scornful tone and calm' Wild as the winds, as billows wild I What wot I of his spouse or childl'? Hither he brought a joyous damne, Unknown her lineage or her namce Her, in some frantic fit, he slew; The nurse and child in fear withdrew. Heav'n be my witnesst wist I wlhere To find this youth, my kinsman's heirh-t

Page  496 Itol IrLY. 0 \NTO VI. Unguerdon'd, I would give with joy The father's arms to fold his boy, And Mortham's lands and tow'rs resign To the just heirs of Mortham's line.'Thou know'st that scarcely e'en his fear Suppresses Denzil's cynic sneer; —'l hen happy is thy vassal's part,' He said,'to ease his patron's heart! In thine own jailer's watchful care Lies Mortham's just and rightful heir; Thy gen'rous wish is fully won,Redmond O'Neale is Mortham's son.' — XIIL "Up starting with a frenzied look, His clenched hand the Baron shook:'Is Hell at work? or dost thou rave, Or dar'st thou palter with me, slave! Perchance thou wot'st not, Barnard's towers Have racks, of strange and ghastly powers' Denzil, who well his safety knew, Firmly rejoin'd' I tell thee true. Thy racks could give thee but to know The proofs, which I, untortured show. It chanc'd upon a winter night, When early snow made Stanmore white, That very night, when first of all, Redmond O'Neale saw Rokeby.hall, It was my goodly lot to gain A reliquary and a chain, Twisted and chas'd of massive gold. -Demand not how the prize I hold! It was not giv'n, nor lent, nor sod.Gilt tablets to the chain were hung, With letters in the Irish tongue. I hid my spoil, for there was need That I should leave the,land with speed; Nor then I deem'd it safe to bear On mine own person gems so rare. Small heed I of the tablets took, But since have spell'd them by the book, When some sojourn in Erin's land Of their wild speech had given command. But darkling was the sense; the phrase And language those of other days, lnvolv'd of purpose, as to foil An interloper's prying toiL

Page  497 CANTO VI. ROKEBY. 4197 The words, but not the sense, I knew, Till fortune gave the guiding clew, XIV.' Three days since was that clue reveal'd In Thorsgill as I lay conceal'd, And heard at full when Rokeby's Maid Her uncle's history display'd; And now I can interpret well Each syllable the tablets tell. Mark, then: Fair Edith was the joy Of old O'Neale of Clandeboy; But from her sire and country fled, In secret Mortham's lord to wed. O'Neale, his first resentment o'er, Despatch'd his son to Greta's shore, Enjoining he should make him known Until his farther will were shown) To Edith, but to her alone. What of their ill-starr'd meeting fell, Lord Wycliffe knows, and none so welL XV.' O'Neale it was, who, in despair, Robb'd Mortham of his infant heir; He bred him in their nurture wild, And call'd him murder'd Connal's child. Soon died the nurse; the Clan believ'd What from'their Chieftain they receiv'd. His purpose was, that ne'er again The boy should cross the Irish, main; But, like his mountain sires, enjoy The woods and wastes of Clandeboy. Then-on the land wild troubles came, And stronger Chieftains urged a claim, And wrested from the old man's hands His native tow'rs, his father's lands. Unable then, amid the strife, To guard young Redmond's rights or life, Late and reluctant he restores The infant to his native shores, With goodly gifts and letters stor'd, With many a deep conjuring word, To Mortham and to Rokoby's Lord. Nought knew the clod of Irish earth, Who was the guide, of Redmond's birth; But deem'd his Chief's commands were laid On both, by both to be obey'd.

Page  498 498 ROKEBY. CANTO VI. Hlow he was wounded by the way I need not, and I list not say.' XVL "' A wond'rous talel and, grant it true, What, * Wycliffe answer'd,'might I do? Heav'n knows, as willingly as now I raise the bonnet from my brow, Would I my kinsman's manors fair, Restore to Mortham or his heir; But Mortham is distraught-O'Neale Has drawn for tyranny his steel, Malignant to our rightful cause, And train'd in Rome's delusive laws. Hark thee apartl'-They whisper'd long TillDenzil's voice grew bold aud strong. —'My proofsi I never will,' he said,'Show mortal man where they are laidl Nor hope discovery to foreclose, By giving me to feed the crows; For I have mates at large, who know Where I am wont such toys to stow. Free me from peril and from band, These tablets are at thy command; Nor were it hard to form some train, To wile old Mortham o'er the main. Then, lunatic's nor papist's hand Should wrest from thine the goodly land.'-' I like thy wit,' said Wycliffe,'well; But here in hostage shall thou dwell. Thy son, unless thy purpose err, May prove the trustier messenger. A scroll to Mortham shall he bear From me, and fetch these tokens rare. Gold shalt thou have, and that good stord, And freedom, his commission o'er; But if his faith should chance to fail, The gibbet frees thee from the jail' XVIL' Mesh'd in the net himself had twin'd, What subterfuge could Denzil find? He told me, with reluctant sigh, That hidden here the tokens lie; Conjur'd my swift return and aid, By all he scoff'd and disobey'd,

Page  499 CANTO Vt. ROtERB;.499 And look'd as if the noose were tied, And I the priest who left his side. This scroll for Mortham Wycliffe gave, Whom I must seek by Greta's wave; Or in the hut where chief he hides, WhereThorsgill'sforester resides. (Thence ohanc'd it wand'ring in the glade, That he descried our ambuscade) I was dismiss'd as evening fell, And reach'd but now this rocky cell.-" "' Give Oswald's letter."-Bertram read, And tore it fiercely, shred by shred; — " All lies and villany! to blind His noble kinsman's generous mind, And train him on from day to day, Till he can. take his life away.And now, declare thy purpose, youth, Nor dare to answer, save the truth; If aught I mark of Denzil's art, I'll tear fhe secret from thy heartl" — XVIII'It needs not. I renounce," he said, My tutor and his deadly trade. Fix'd was my purpose to declare To Mortham, Redmond is his heir; To tell him in what risk he stands, And yield these tokens to his hands. Fix'd was my purpose to atone, Far as I may, the evil done; And fix'd it rests-if I survive This night, and leave this cave alive.""' And Denzil?"-" Letthemply the rack Ev'n till his joints and sinews crack! If Oswald tear him limb from limb, What ruth can Denzil claim from him, Whose thoughtless youth he led astray, And damn'd to this unhallow'd way? He school'd me, faith and vows were vain: Now let my master reap his gain."" True," answer'd Bertram, "'tis his meed; There's retribution in the deed. But thou-thou art not for our course, last fear, hast pity, hast remorse; And he, with us the gale who braves, Must heave such cargo to the waves, Or lag with overloaded prore, While barks unburden'd reach the shore,"

Page  500 nd, stretching at le lie paus'd, and, stretching himi at leng~t, Seem'd to repose his bulky strength. Communing with his secret mind, As half he sat, and half reclin'd, One ample hand his forehead press'd, And one was dropp'd across his breast The shaggy eyebrows deeper came Above his eyes of swarthy flame;' is lip of pride awhile forbore The haughty curve till then it woref. Th' unalter'd fierceness of his look A shade of darken'd sadness took, — For dark and sad a presage press'd Resistlessly on Bertram's breast,And when he spoke, his wonted tone; So fierce, abrupt, and brief, was gone. His voice was steady, low, and deep, iLike distant waves when breezes sleep; And sorrow mix'd with Edmund's fear, Its low unbroken depth to hear. "Edmund, in thy sad tale I find The woe that warp'd my patron's mined'Twould wake the fountains of the eye In other men, but mine are dry. Mortham must never see the fool, That sold himself base Wycliffe's tool; Yet less from thirst of sordid gain, Than to avenge suppos'd disdain. Say, Bertram rues his fault;-a word, Till now, from Bertram never heard; Say, too, that Mortham's Lord he prays To think but on their former days; On Quariana's beach and rock, On Cayo's bursting battle-shock, On Darien's sands and deadly dew, And on the dart Tlatzeca threw;Perchance my patron yet may hear More that may grace his comrade's bier. My soul hath felt a secret weight, A warning of approaching fate: A priest had said' Return, repentr As well to bid that rock be rent.

Page  501 Firm as that flint I face mine end;'My heart may burst,- but cannot bend. XXL The dawning of my youth, with awe And prophecy, the Dalesmen saw; For over Redesdale it came, As bodeful as their beacon-flame. iEdmund, -thy years were scarcely mine, When, challenging the Clans of Tyne'To bring their best my brand to prove,. -O'er Hexham's altar hung my glove; But Tynedale, nor in tower nor town, Held champion meet to take it down. My noontide, India may deelrare; Like herfierce sun, I fir'd the air! Like him, to wood and cave bade fly' Her natives,,from mine angry eye. Panama's maids shall long look pale When Risingham inspires the tale; Chili's dark matrons long shall tame The froward child with Bertram's name. And now, my race of terror run, Mine be the,eve of tropic sun! No pale gradations quench his ray, No twilight dews his wrath allay; With disk like battle-target red, lie rushes to his burning bed,:Dyes the wide wave with bloody light, ihen sinkssat once-and all is night.XXI. " Now tothy mission, Edmund. Fly, -Seek Mortham out, and bid him hie To Richmond, where his troops are laid, And lead his force to Redmond's aid. bay, till he reaches Eglistone, A friend will watch to guard his son. Now, fare thee well; for night drawsON And I would -rest me here alone," Despite his ill-dissembl'd fear,'rhere swam in Edmund's eye a tear; A tribute to the courage high, Which stoop'd not in extremity, But strove, irregularly great, To triumph o'er approaching.fate! *1~~~~~~~~__, __._,__

Page  502 ROKEBY. ~an ~ BIertram beheld the dew-drop start, It almost toueh'd his iron-heart:" I did not think there lived," he saidl, "One, who would tear for Bertram shed." He loosen'd then his baldric's hold, A buckle broad of massive gold; —. "Of all the spoil that paid his pains, But this with Risingham remains; And this, dear Edmund, thou shalt take4 And wear it long for Bertram's sake,, Once more-to Mortham speed amain; Farewelll and tulm thee not again." XXIIL The night has yielded to the morn, And far the hours of prime are worrn,, Oswald, who, since the dawn of dayr, Had curs'd his messenger's delay, Impatient question'd now his train,. "Was Denzil's son return'd again?" It chanc'd there answer'd of the crew, A menial, who young Edmund knew: "1 No son of Denzil this,";-he said; A peasant boy from Winston glade, For song and minstrelsy renown'd And knavish pranks, the hamlets round." — "Not Denzil's son!-From Winston vale.!-.. Then it was false, that specious tale; Or, worse-he hath despatch'd the youth To show to Mortham's Lord its truth.. Fool that I was!-but'tis too late;This is the very turn of fateI — The tale, or true or false, relies On Denzil's evidence! —He dies'-.L Ho! Provost Marshal! instantly Lead Denzil to the gallows-tree! Allow him not a parting word; Short be the shrift, and:-sure the cor4l! Then let his gory head appal Marauders from the Castle-wall. Lead forth thy guard, that duty done. With best despatch to EglistoneBasil, tell Wilfrid he- must straight Attend me at the castle gate."XXIV. "Alas!" the old domestic said,. And shook his venerable head,

Page  503 CAON10 VI I BOIiBY, L5()03 "Alas, my Lord! full ill to-day May my young master brook the way The leech has spoke with grave alarm Of unseen hurt, of secret harm, Of sorrow lurking at the heart, That mars and lets his healing art. — " Tush, tell not mel-Romantic boys Pine themselves sick for airy toys. I will find cure for Wilfrid soon; Bid him for Eglistone be boune, And quick! I hear the dull death-drum Tell l)Denzil's hour of fate is come." He paus'd with scornfil smile, and then'Resum'd his train of thought agen. "Now comnes my fortune's crisis nearl Entreaty boots not-instant fear, Nought else, can bend Matilda's pride, Or win her to be Wilfrid's bride. But when she sees the scaffold plac'd, With axe and block and headsman grac'd, And when she deems, that to deny Dooms Redmond and her sire to die, She must give way.-Then, were the line Of Rokeby once combin'd with mine, I gain the weather-gage of fate! If Mortham come, he comes too late, While I, thus allied and prepar'd, Bid him defiance to his beard.-If she prove stubborn, shall I dare To drop the axe?-Soft! pause we there. Mortham still lives-yon youth may tell His tale-and Fairfax loves him well;Else, wherefore should I now delay To sweep this Redmond from my way? But she to piety perforce Must yield.-Without theret Sound to horse." XXV,'Twas bustle in the court below.4' Mount, and march forward!"-Forth they go; Steeds neigh and trample all around, Steel rings, spears glimmer, trumpets sound.Just then was sung his parting hymn; And Denzil turn'd his eyeballs dim, And, scarcely conscious what he sees, Follows the horsemen down the Tees; ___________________________________.-'.._________ 1,..... _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __.j

Page  504 504 NOOEBY. CANTO vI And scarcely conscious what he hears, The trumpets tingle in his ears. O'er the long bridge they're sweeping now, The van is hid by greenwood bought But ere the rearward had pass'd o'er, Guy Denzil heard and saw no morel One stroke, upon the Castle bell, To Oswald rung his dying knell. XVIL O, for that pencil, erst profuse Of chivalry's emblazon'd hues, That trac'd of old, in Woodstock bower, The pageant of the Leaf and Flower, And bodied forth the tourney high, Held for the hand of Emilyl Then might I paint the tumult broad, That to the crowded abbey flow'd, And pour'd, as with an ocean's sound, Into the church's ample bound! Then might I show each varying mien, Exulting, woeful, or serene; Indiff'rence, with his idiot stare, And Sympathy, with anxious air, Paint the dejected Cavalier, Doubtful, disarm'd, and sad of cheer, And,his proud foe, whose: formal eye Claim'd conquest now and mastery; And the brute crowd, whose envious zeal Huzzas each turn of Fortune's wheel, And loudest shouts when lowest lie Exalted worth and station high. Yet what may such a wish avail?'Tis mine to tell an onward tale, Hurrying, as best I can, along, The hearers and the hasty song; — Like trav'ller when approaching home, Who sees the shades of evening come, And must not now his course delay, Or choose the fair, but. winding way; iNay, scarcely may his pace suspend, Where o'er his head the wildings bend, To bless the breeze that cools his brow, Or snatch a blossom from the bough. XXVIL The rev'rend pile lay wild and waste, 1?rofan'd, dishonour'd, and defac'd.

Page  505 CANTO VI. ROREBY. 5(05 Through storied lattices no more In soften'd light the sunbeams pour, Gilding the Gothic sculpture rich Ot shrine, and monument, and niche. The Civil fury of the time Made sport of sacrilegious crime; For dark Fanaticism rent Altar, and screen, and ornament, And peasant hands the tombs o'erthrew Of Bowes, of Rokeby, and Fitz-Hugh. And now was seen, unwonted sight, In holy walls a scaffold dight! Where once the priest, of grace divine Dealt to his flock the mystic sign; There stood the block display'd, and there The headsman grim his hatchet bare; And for the word of Hope and Faith, Resounded loud a doom of death. Thrice the fierce trumpet's breath was heard, And echo'd thrice the herald's word, Dooming, for breach of martial laws, And treason to the Commons' cause, The Knight of Rokeby and O'Neale To stoop their heads to block and steel. The trumpets flourish'd high and shrill, Then was a silence dead and still; And silent pray'rs to heav'n were cast, And stifling sobs were bursting fast, Till from the crowd began to rise Murmurs of sorrow or surprise, And from the distant isles there came Deep-muttet'd threats, with Wycliffe's name. XXVIIL But Oswald, guarded by his band, Pow'rful-in evil, wav'd his hand, And bade Sedition's voice be dead, On peril of the murm'rer's head, Then first his glance sought Rokeby's Knight; Who gas'd on the tremendous sight, As calm as if he came a guest To kindred Baron's feudal feast, As calm as if that trumpet-call Were summons to the banner'd hall; Firm in his loyalty he stood, And prompt to seal it with his blood. With downcast look drew Oswald nigh,He durst not cope wltL- Rokeby's eyel —,.b

Page  506 506 ROKEBY. CATNO VI'lthou know'st the ternis of lile and dealth." The Knight then turn'd, and sternly smii'd: " The maiden is mine only child, Yet shall my blessing leave her head, If with a traitor's son she wed." Then Redmond spoke: " The life of one Might thy malignity atone, On me be flung a double guilt! Spare Rokeby's blood, let mine be spiltI" Wycliffe had listen'd to his suit, But dread prevail'd, and he was mute. And now he pours his choice of fear In secret on Matilda's ear; "And union form'd with me and mine, Ensures the faith of Rokeby's line. Consent, and all this dread array, Like morning dream shall pass away! Refuse, and, by my duty press'd, I give the word, thou know'st the rest. Matilda, still and motionless, With terror heard the dread address, Pale as the sheeted maid who dies To hopeless love a sacrifice; Then wrung her hands in agony, And round her cast bewilder'd eye. Now on the scaffold glanc'd, and now On Wycliffe's unrelenting brow. She veil'd her face, and, with a voice Scarce audible,-" I make my choice! Spare but their lives!-for aught beside, Let Wilfrid's doom my fate decide. He once was gen'rous I"-As she spoke, Dark Wycliffe's joy in triumph broke: — "Wilfrid, where loiter'd ye so late? Why upon Basil rest thy weight?Art spell-bound by enchanter's wand?Kneel, kneel, and take her yielded hand; Thank her with raptures, simple boy! Should tears and trembling speak thy joy?""0 hush iny sire! to pray'r and tear Of mine thou hast refus'd thine ear; But now the awful hour draws on, When truth must speak in loftier tone."

Page  507 OANTo vi. OKEBY. 507 XXX. IHe took Matilda's hand;-" Dear maid, Couldst thou so injure me," he said, " Of thy poor.friend so basely deem, As blend with him this barb'rous scheme: Alas! my efforts made in vain, Might well have sav'd this added pain. But now, bear witness, earth and heaven, That ne'er was hope to mortal given, So twisted'with the strings of life, As this-to call Matilda wifel I bid it now for ever part, And with the effort bursts my heart. His feeble frame was worn so low, With wounds, with watehing, and with woe That nature could no more sustain The agony of mental pain. Hie kneel'd-his lip her hand had press'd,Just then he felt the stern arrest. Lower and lower sunk his head,They rais'd him, —but the life was fled! Then, first alarm'd, his sire and train Tried ev'ry aid, but tried in vain. The soul, too soft its ills to bear, Had left our mortal hemisphere, Had sought in better world the meed, To blameless life by Heav'n decreed. XXXL The wretched sire beheld' aghast, With Wilfrid all his projects past, All turn'd and centred on his son, On Wilfrid all-and he was gone. "And am I childless now," he said: " Childless, through that relentless maid Alifetime's arts, in vain essay'd, Are bursting on their artist's headt!Here lies my Wilfrid dead-and there t Comes hated Mortham for his heir, Eager to knit in happy band With Rokeby's heiress Redmond's hand And shall their triumph soar o'er all The schemes deep-laid to work- their fall? No!-deeds, which prudence might not dark Appal not vengeance and despair. The murd'ress weeps upon his bir-.I'll change to real that feigned tear!

Page  508 (c508 LOBE.Y CAN'K Bo V I They all shall share destruction's shock;H3Io! lead the captives to the block!" — But ill his Provost could divine His feelings, and forebore the sign. "Slave! to the blockl-or I, or they, Shall face the judgment-seat this day!" XXXIL The outmost crowd have heard a sound, Like horse's hoof on harden'd ground; Nearer it came, and yet more near, —: The very deaths-men paus'd to hear.'Tis in the churchyard now-the tread Hath wak'd the dwelling of the deadl Fresh sod, and old sepulchral stone, Return the tramp in varied tone. All eyes upon the gateway hung, When through the Gothic arch there sprun A horseman arm'd, at headlong speed; Sable his cloak, his plume, his steed. Fire from the flinty floor was spurn'd, The vaults unwonted clang return'dl One instant's glance. around he threw Fr~om saddlebow his pistol drew. Grimly determin'd was his look! His charger with the spurs he strookAll scatter'd he came, For all knew Bertram Risinghaml Three bounds that noble courser gave; The first has reach'd the central nave, The second clear'd the chancel wide, The third-he was at Wycliffe's side.'ull levell'd at the Baron's head, Rung the report-the bullet sped- And to his long account, and last, Without a groan dark Oswald past! All was so quick, that it might seem A flash of light'ning, or a dream. XXXIIL i While yet the smoke the deed conceals, Bertram his ready charger wheels; But flounder'd on the pavement floor The steed, and down the rider bore, And, bursting in the headlong sway, Tie faithless saddle-girths gave war. _.,j

Page  509 CA1STO VL BOIE".'Twas while he toil'd him to be freed, And with the rein to raise the steed, That from amazement's iron trance All Wycliffe's soldiers wak'd at once. Sword, halberd, musket-but, their blows Hail'd upon Bertram as he rose; | i A score of pikes, with each a wound, Bore down and pinn'd him to the ground; But still his struggling force he rears,'Gainst hacking brands and stabbing spcLrsl Thrice from assailants shook him free, Once gain'd his feet, and twice his knee, By tenfold odds oppress'd at length, Despite his struggles and his strength, He took a hundred mortal wounds, As mute as fox'mongst mangling hounds And when he died, his parting groan Had more of laughter than of moan! I -They gaz'd, as when a lion dies, And hunters scarcely trust their eyes, But bend their weapons on the slain, Lest the grim king should rouse again! Then blow and insult some renew'd, And from the trunk, the head had hew'd, But Basil's voice the deed forbade; A mantle o'er the c6rse he laid:~ t ""Fell as he was in act and mind, He left no bolder heart behind: |i Then give him, for a soldier meet, A soldier's cloak for windingsheet." XXXIV. No more of death and dying pang, 1 l1 No more of trump and bugle clang, Though through the sounding woods there come Banner and bugle, trump and drum, Arm'd with such pow'rs as well had freed Young Redmond at his utmost need, And back'd with such a band of horse, As might less ample pow'rs enforce; Possess'd of ev'ry proof and sign That gave an heir to Mortham's line, And yielded to a father's arms An image of his Edith's charms, Mortham is come, to hear and see Of this strange morn the history. What saw he?-not the' church's floor, Cumber'd with dead and stain'd with gore;

Page  510 That shout their gratulations loud: Redrrmond he saw and heard alone, Clasp'd him, and sobb'd, "My son, my son."'XXxV. This chanc'd upon a summer morn, When yellow wav'd the heavy corn: But when brown August o'er the land ] Call'd for the reaper's busy band, A gladsome sight the silvan road From Eglistone to Mortham show'd. I A while the hardy rustic leaves The task to bind and pile the sheaves, And maids their sickles fling aside, To gaze on bridegroom and on bride, And childhood's wond'ring group draws near And from the gleaner's hand the ear Drops, while she folds them for a pray'r And blessing on the lovely pair.:Twas then the Maid of Rokeby gave Her plighted troth to Redmond brave; And Teesdale can remember yet How Fate to Virtue paid her debt, And, for their troubles, bade them prove A lengthen'd life of peace and love. Time and Tide had thus their sway, Tielding, like an April day, Smiling noon for sullen morrow, Yerrs of joy for hours of sorrowl

Page  511 BALLADS, LYRICAL PIECES, AND sO~-as.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Page  512

Page  513 GLENFINL AS, OR LORD RONALD'S CORONACH. [The tradition upon which the following stanzas are.; founded, runs thus: Wh'.ile two Highland hunters were passing the night in a solitary bothy (a hut, built ior tle purpose of hunting,) and making merry over their venison and whisky, one of them expressed a wish, that they had pretty lasses, to complete their party. The words were scarcely uttered, when two beautiful young women, habited in green, entered the hut, dancing and silging. One of the hunters was seduced by the syren, who attached herself particularly to him, to leave the hut: the other re, mained, and, suspicious of the fair seducers, continued to play upon a trump, or Jew's harp, some strain consecrated. to the Virgin Mary. Day at length came, and the temptress vanished. Searching in the forest, he found the bones of his unfortunate friend; who had been torn to pieces and devoured by the fiend, into whose toils he had fallen. The place was from thence called, The Glen of the Green Women.] "For them the viewless forms of air obey, Their bidding heed, and at their bcctc repair; They know what spirit brews the strrminul day, And heartless oft, like moody madness, stare, To see the phantom train theirsecret work prepare." "0 O ONEr a rie!' 0 hone a rie'!* The pride of Albin's line is o'er, And falln Glenartney's stateliest tree; We ne'er shall see Lord Ronald morel 0, sprung from great Macgillianore, The chief that never fear'd a foe, How matchless was thy broad claymore, How deadly thine unerring bow! *0 ione a r/e' signifies —" Alas for the prince, or chief.' 45

Page  514 LORD) RO01ALD Well can tee Saxon widows tell, How, on the Teith's resounding shore% The boldest Lowland warriors fell, As down from Lenny's pass you bore, But o'er his hills, on festal day, How blaz'd Lord Ronald's Beltane trl:e, While youths and maids the light strati!,Isve So nimbly danc'd, with highland gcc. Cheer'd by the strength of Ronald's shell, Ee'n age forgot his tresses hoar; But now the loud lament we swell, 0, ne'er to see Lord Ronald more From distant isles achieftain came, The joys of Ronald's hall to find, And chase with him the dark brown game That bounds o'er Albin's hills of wind.'Twas Moy; whom, in Columba's isle, The seer's prophetic spirit found, As, with a minstrel's fire the while, He wak'd his harp's harmonious sound, Full many a spell to him was known, Which wand'ring spirits shrink to hear; And many a lay of potent tone, Was never meant for mortal ear. For there,'tis said, in mystic mood, High converse with the dead they hold, And oft espy the fated shroud, That shall the future corpse enfold, O so it fell, that on a day, To rouse the red deer from their den, The chiefs have ta'en their distant way, And scour'd the deep Glenfinlas glen. No vassals wait, their sports to aid, To watch their safety, deck their board) Their simple dress, the Highland plaid, Their trusty guard, the Highland sword. Three summer days, through brake and deid Their whistling shafts successful flew* And still, when dewy evening fell, The quarry to their hut they drew, In grey Glenfinlas' deepest nook The solitary cabin stood,

Page  515 CORONACn. 5 5 Frvt by Moneira's sullen brook, Which murmurs through that lonely wood. Soft fell the night, the sky was calm, When three successive days had flown-; And summer mist in dewy balm Steep'd heathy bank, and mossy stone. The moon, half-hid in silv'ry flakes, Afar her dubious radiance shed, I Quiv'ring on Katrine's distant lakes,:1 And resting on Benledi's head. 1Now in their hut, in social guise, Their sylvan fare the chiefs enjoy;'And pleasure laughs in Ronald's eyes, As many a pledge he quaffs to Moy. -"What lack we here to crown our bliss, While thus the pulse ofjoy beats high?'What but fair woman's yielding kiss, Her panting breath, and melting eye?.'To chase the deer of yonder shades, This morning left theirfather's pile The fairest of our mountain maids, The daughters of the proud Glengyle.'Long have I sought sweet Mary's heart, And dropp'd the tear, and heaved the sigh: ZBut vain the lover's wily art, -Beneath a sister's watchful eye. ",But thou may'st teach that guardian fair, While far With Mary I am flown, Of other hearts to cease her care, And find it hard to guard her own, "Touch but thy harp, thou soon shalt see, The lovely Flora of Glengyle, lUnmindful of her charge and me. Hang on thy notes,'twixt tear and smile. "Or, if she choose a melting tale, All underneath the green-wood bough, Will good St Oran's rule prevail, Stern huntsman of the rigid brow?"-.-"Since Enrick's fight, since Morna's death, No more on me shall rapture rise,

Page  516 OR nr ONALDV Responsive' to the panting breathy Or yielding kiss, or melting eyes. "E'en then, when o'er the heath of *oe; Where sunk my hopes of love and famqe I bade my harp's wild wailings flow,. On me the seer's sad spirit came. "The last dread curse of angry heav'n, With ghastly sights and sounds of woeS. To dash each glimpse of joy, was giv'n — The gift, the future ill to know. " The bark thou saw'st, yon summer morn~ So gaily part from Oban's bay, My eye beheld her dash'd and torn~ Far on the rocky Colonsay. " Thy Fergus too-thy sister's son, Thou saw'st, with pride, the gallant's- pow'A As marching'gainst the Lord of Downe, He left the skirts of huge Benmore. "Thou only saw'st their tartans wave, As down Benvoirlieh's side they wound, HEeard'st but the pibroch, answ'ring bravcr To many a target clanking round. # I heard the groans, I mark'd the teards I saw the wound his bosom bore, When on the serried Saxon spears He pour'd his clan's resistless roar. " And thou, who bid'st me think of blims% And bidst my heart awake to glee,. And court, like thee, the wanton kiss,That heart, O Ronald, bleeds for theemi "I see the death-damps chill thy brow; I hear thy Warning Spirit cry; The corpse-lights dance-they're gone, and nos No more is giv'n to gifted eye!" -- " Alone enjoy thy dreary dreams, Sad prophet of the evil hour! Say, should we scorn joy's transient beams,. Because to-morrow s storm may lour? "Or false, or sooth, thy words of woe, Clangillian's chieftain ne'er shall fear; His blood shall bound at rapture's glow, Though doom'd to stain the Saxon spear.

Page  517 *0RONACI. V'Een~ now, to meet me in yon dell, My Mary's buskins brush the dew."HIe spoke, nor bade the chief farewell, But call'd his dogs, and gay withdraew Within an hour return'd each hound4 In rush'd the rousers of the deer; They howl'd in melancholy sound, Then closely couch beside the Seer.:No Ronald yet; though midnight came, And sad were Moy's prophetic dreams, As, bending o'er the dying flame, He fed the watchlfire's quiv'ring gleams. Eudden the hounds erect their ears, And-sudden Cease their moaning howl; Close press'd to Moy, they niark their feas By shiv'ring limbs and stifled growl,'Untouch'd, the harp began to rirtg, As softly, slowly, oped the door; And shook respolisive.ev'ry string, As light a footstep press'd the loor. And, by the watch-fire's glimm'ring light, Close by the Minstrel's side was seen.An huntress maid, in beauty bright, All dropping wet her robes of groeew All dropping wet her garments seem; Chill'd was her cheek, her bosom bare. As, bending o'er the dying gleam, She wrung the moisture fromhIer hakr. With maidein blush she.softly said, "0 gentle huntsman, hast thou seen, In deep Glenfinlas' moon-light glades A lovely maid in. vest of green? " With her a chiefin Highland,pride His shoulders bear the hunter's bow, The mountain dirk adorns his side, Far onthe wind his tartans flow." And who art thou? and who are they'?" All ghastly gazing, Moy replied: 4'And why, beneath the moon's pale ray, Dare ye thus roam Glenfinlas' side?" "Whbere wild Loch Katrine pours her tide. Bluc,.dark, and deep,,round manor.a isle, jr *a

Page  518 S 8 LORD RONALDS Our father's tow'rs o'erhang her side, The castle of the bold Glengyle. "To chase the dun Glenfinlas deer, Our woodland course this morn we bore, And haply met, while wand'ring here, The son of great Macgillianore. 0' aid me, then, to seek the pair, Whom, loit'ring in the woods, I lost, Alone I dare not venture there, Where walks, they say, the shrieking ghostw "Yes, many a shrieking ghost walks there; Then,. first, my own sad vow to keep, Here will I pour my midnight pray'r, Which still must rise when mortals sleep.' UO first, for pity's gentle sake, Guide a lone wand'rer on her way! For I must cross the haunted brake, And reach my father's tow'rs ere day..' " First, three times tell each Ave bead, And thrice a Pater-noster say; Then kiss with me the holy reed: So shall we safely wind our way." "0 shame to knighthood,. strange and fou1y Go, doff the bonnet from thy brow, And shroud thee in the monkish cowl, Which best befits thy sullen vow. "Not so, by high Dunlathmon's fire, Thy heart was froze to love and joy, When gaily rung. thy raptur'd lyre, To wanton Morna's melting eye." Wild star'd the Minstrel's eyes of flam4e And high his. sable looks arose, And quick his colour went and cam. As fear and rage alternate rose. "And thoun when by the blazing oak. I lay, to her and love resign'd, Say,. rode ye on the eddying smoke,. Or sail'd ye on the midnight windl "Not. thine a race of mortal blood, Nor old Giengyle's pretended line Thy dame, the Lady' of the Flood,'yh sire. the Monaich Qf the Miue..

Page  519 CORONACH. 5l9 He mutter'd thrice St Oran's rhyme, And thrice St Fillan's pow'rful prayerj Then turn'd him to the' eastern clime, And sternly shook his coal-black hair. And, bending o'er his harp, he flung His wildest witch-notes on the wind; And loud, and high, and strange, they rung, As many a magic change they find. Tall wax'd the Spirit's alt'ring form, Till to the roof her stature grew; Then, mingling with the rising storm, With one wild yell, away she flew. Rain beats, hail rattles, whirlwinds tears The slender hut in fragments flew; But not a lock of Moy's loose hair Was wav'd by wind, or wet by dew. Wild mingling with the howling gale, Loud bursts of ghastly laughter rise; High o'er the Minstrel's head they sail, And die amid the northern skies. The voice of thunder shook the wood, As ceas'd the more than mortal yell; And, spattering foul, a shower of blood Upon the hissing firebrands fell. Next, dropp'd from high a mangled arm; The fingers strain'd an half-drawn blade: And last, the life-blood streaming warm, Torn from the trunk, a gasping head. Oft o'er that head, in battling field, Stream'd the proud crest of high Benmore That arm the broad claymore could wield, Which dy'd the Teith with Saxon gore. Woe to Moneira's sullen rills! Woe to Glenfinlas' dreary glen! There never son of Albin's hills Shall draw the hunter's shaft agent E'en the tir'd pilgrim's burning feet At noon shall shun that shelt'ring den, Lest, journeying in their rage, he meet The wayward Ladies of the Glen. And we-behind the chieftain's shield, No more shall we in safety dwell;

Page  520 520 EVE OF SANT JOHN. None leads the people to the fieldAnd we the loud lament must swell O hone a rie'! O hone a rie'! The pride of Albin's line is o'er, And fall'n Glenartney's stateliest tree: We ne'er shall see Lord Ronald morel THE EVE OF SAINT JOHN. THE Baron of Smaylho'me rose with day, He spurr'd his courser on, Without stop or stay, down the rocky way That leads to Brotherstone. He went not with the bold Buccleuch, His banner broad to rear; He went not'gainst the English yew, To lift the Scottish spear. Yet his plate-jack was brac'd, and his helmet was lac'd, And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore; At his saddle-gerthe was a good steel sperthe Full ten pound weight and more. The Baron return'd in three days' space, And his looks were sad and sour; And weary was his courser's pace, As he reach'd his rocky tower. He came not from where Ancram Moor Ran red with English blood; Where the Douglas true, arid the bold Buccleuch,'Gainst keen lord Evers stood. Yet was his helmet hack'd and hew'd, His acton pierc'd and tore; His axe and his dagger with blood embru'd, But it was not English gore. I-He lighted at the Chapellage, He held him close and still; And he whistled thrice for his little foot-page, His name was English Will.,.~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ -------

Page  521 EVE OF SAINT JOHN. 521 "Come thou hither, my little foot-page, Come hither to my knee; Thou art young, and tender of age, I think thoei ait true to me. "Come, tell me all that thou hast seen And look thou tell me true Since I from Smaylho'me tow'r have been, What did thy lady do?" "My lady, each night, sought the lonely light, That burns on the wild Watchfold; For, from height to height, the beacons bright Or the English foemen told. "The bittern clamour'd from the moss, The wind blew loud and shrill; Yet the craggy pathway she did cross, To the eiry beacon hill. "I watch'd her steps, and silent came Where she sat her on a stone; No watchman stood by the dreary flame; It burned all alone. The second night I kept her in sight, Till to the fire she came, And, by Mary's might! an armed Knight Stood by the lonely flame. "And many a word that warlike lord Did speak to my lady there; But the rain fell fast, and loud blew the blast, And' I heard not what they were. "The third night there the sky was fair, And the mountain blast was still, As again I watch'd the secret pair, On the lonesome beacon hill "And I heard her name in the midnight hour, And name this holy eve; And say,' Come this night to thy lady's bower; Ask no bold Baron's leave. "'He lifts his spear with the bold Buccleuch; His lady is all alone; The door she'll undo to her knight so true, On the eve of good St John.' "'I cannot come; I must not come; I dare not come to thee;

Page  522 |5'22, EVr OF' SAINT JOHN. On the eve of Saint John I must wander alone; In thy bower I may not be.' l' Now, out on thee, faint-hearted knight! Thou sbould'st not say me nay; For the eve is sweet, and when lovers meet, Is worth the whole summer's day. "' And I'll chain the blood-hound, and the ward Or shall not sound, And rushes shall be strew'd on the stair; So, by the black rood-stone,*and by holy St John, I conjure thee, my love, to be therel' "' Though the blood-bound be mute, and the rush beneath my foot, And the warder his bugle should not blow, Yet there sleepeth a priest in the chamber to the east, And my foot-step he would know.' "'0 fear not the priest, who sleepeth to the east! For to Dryburgh the way he has ta'en; And there to say mass, till three days do pass, For the soul of aknight that is slayne.' "IIe turn'd him around, and grimly he frown'd; Then he laugh'd right scornfully-'Ile who says the mass-rite for the soul of that knight1 May as well say mass for me. "' At the lone midnight hour, when bad spirits have pow'r, In thy chamber will I be.'With that he was gone, and my lady left alone, And no more did I see."Then changed, I trow, was that bold Baron's brow, From the dark to the blood-red high; "'Now, tell me the mien of the knight thou hast seen, For, by Mary, he shall die!" " Iis arms shone full bright, in the beacon's red light: Ilis plume it was scarlet and blue; On his shield was a hound, in a silver leash bound, And his crest was a branch of the yew." "Thou liest, thou liest, thou little foot-page, Loud dost thou lie to me.l

Page  523 EVE Ol, SAINT JOEI. 523 For tnat knight is cold, and low laid in the mould, All under theEildon-tree." " Yet hear but my word, my noble lordl For I heard her name his'name; And that lady bright, she called the knight, Sir Richard of Coldinghame." The bold Baron's brow then changed, I trow, From high blood-red to pale"The grave is deep and dark-and the corpse is stiff and starkSo I may not trust thy tale. "Where fair Tweed flows round holy Melrose, And Eildon slopes to the plain, Full three nights ago, by some secret foe, That gay gallant was: slain. " The varying light deceived thy sight, And the wild'.winds drowned' the namey For the Dryburgh bells ring, and the white monks do sing, K For Sir Richard of Coldinghamel" lIe pass'd the court-gate, and he op'd the tow'~ grate, And he mounted. the narrow stair To the bartizan-seat, where, with maids that on hew wait, He found his lady fair. That lady sat in mournful mood; Look'd over hill and dale; Over Tweed's fair flood, and Mertoun's wood, And all down Teviotdale. "Now hail, now hail, thou lady brightt" "Now hail thou Baron truel What news, what news, from Ancram fight? What news from the bold Buccleuch?" u The Ancram Moor is red with gore, For many a southern fell; And Buccleuch has charged us, evermore To watch our beacons welL" " The lady blush'd red, but nothing she said; Nor added the Baron a word: Ihen she stepp'd down- the stair to her chamber fair, And so did hler moody lord.

Page  524 624 MZ- OFs SAINTs &On. In sleep the lady mourn'd, and the Baron toss'd and turn'd, And oft to himself he said" The worms around him creep, and his bloody grave is deep... It cannot give up the deadl" It was near the ringing of matin-bell, The night was well nigh done, When a heavy sleep on that Baron fell, On the eve of good St John. The lady look'd through the chamber fair, By the light of a dying flame; And she was aware of a knight stood there — Sir Richard of ColdinghameT "Alasl away, awayl" she cried, "For the holy Virgin's sake!" "Lady I know who sleeps by thy side; But, lady, he will not awake. " By Eildon-tree, for long nights three, In bloody grave have I lain; The mass and the death-pray'r are said for me, But, lady, they are said in vain. By the Baron's brand, near Tweed's fair strand, Most foully slain I fell; And my restless sprite on the beaeon's height, For a space is doom'd to dwell At our trysting-place, for a certain space I must wander to and fro; But I had not had pow'r to come to thy bow'rl Had'st thou not conijur'd me so." Love master'd fear-her brow she cross'd, "How, Richard, hast thou sped? And art thou sav'd, or art thou lost?" The Vision shook his head! "Who spilleth life, shall forfeit life So bid thy lord believe: That lawless love is guilt above, This awful sign receive." He laid his left palm on an oaken beami His right upon her hand: The lady shrunk, and fainting sunk, F~o it scorch'd like a fiery brand.

Page  525 EVE OF RAINT JOHI. The sable seore, of fingers four, Remains on that board impress'd; And for evermore that lady wore A cov'ring on her wrist There is a Nun in Drybargh bower, Ne'er looks upon the sun: There is a Monk in Melrose tower, He speaketh word to none. That Nun, who ne'er beholds the day, That Monk, who speaks to noneThat Nun was Smaylho'me's Lady gBy Tha Mo.k t&hy bold. IUsr

Page  526 CADYOW CASIT LE. ADDRIESSED TO THE RIGHT HON. LADY ANNE HAMILTON. [In detailing the death of the regent Murray, Wnich is made the subject of the following ballad, it would be injustice to my reader to use other words than those of Dr. Robertson, whose account of that memorable event forms a beautiful piece of historical painting. " Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh was the person who committed this barbarous action. He had been condemned to death soon after the battle of Langside, as we have alr-Oady related, and owed his life to the regent's clemency. But part of his estate had been bestowed upon one of the re. gent's favourites, who-seized his house, and turned out his wife naked, in a cold night, into the open fields, where, before next morning, she became furiously mad. This injury made a deeper impression on him than the benefit he had received, and from that moment he vowed to be revenged ofthe regent. Party rage strengthened and inflamed his private resentment. His kinsmen, the Hamiltons, anp plauded the enterprise. The maxims of'that age justified the most desperate course he could take to obtain vyengeance. He followed'the regent for sometime, and watc hed bor an opportunity to strike the blow. He resolved, at last, to wait till his enemy should arrive at Linlithgow, through which he was to pass, in his way from Stirling to B(linburgh. He took his stand in a wooden gallery, which had a window towards the street; spread a feather-bed on the floor, to hinder the noise of his feet from being heard; hung up a black cloth behind him, that his shadow might not be observed from without; and, after all this preparea tion, calmly expected the regent's approach, who had lodged, during the night, in a house not tar distant. Solme indistinct information of the danger which threatened hint had been conveyed to the regent, and he paid so much regard to it, that he resolved to return by the same gate through which he had entered, and to fetch a compass tound the town.. But, as the crowd about the gate was great, and he himself unacquainted with fear, he proceeded directly along the street; and the throng of people obliging him to move very slowly, gave the assassin time to take so trle an aim, that he shot him, with a single bullet, through the. lower part of his belly, ad( killed the horse of a gentleman, who rode on his other side. His followerxsa. _____ i________ ____________.

Page  527 CADYOW CASTtE. instantly endeavoured to break into the house, whence the blow had come; but they found the door strongly barri. caded, and, before it could be forced open, Hamilton had mounted a fleet horse, which stood ready for him at a back passage. and was got far beyond their reach. The regent died the same night of his wound." —History oj Scotland, book v.] When princely Hamilton's abode IEnnobl'd Cadyow's Gothic tow'rs, The song went round, the goblet flow'd, And revel sped the laughing hours. Then, thrilling to the harp's gay sound, So sweetly rung each vaulted wall, And echo'd light the dancer's bound, As mirth and music cheer'd the hall But Cadyow's tow'rs, in ruins laid, And vaults, by ivy mantled o'er, Thrill to the music of the shade, Or echo Evan's hoarser roar. Yet still, of Cadyow's faded fame, You bid me tell a minstrel tale, And tune my harp of Border frame, On the wild banks of Evandale. For thou, from scenes of courtly pride, Prom pleasure's lighter scenes, canst twur, To dtaw oblivion's pall aside, And mark the long forgotten urn. Then, noble maid! at thy command, Again the crumbled halls shall rise; Lo! as on Evan's banks we stand, The past returns-the present fliesaWhere with the rock's wood-cover'd side Were blended late the ruins green, Rise turrets in fantastic pride, And feudal banners flaunt between: Where the rude torrent's brawling course Was shagg'd with thorn and tangling sloe The ashler buttress braves its force, And ramparts frown in battled row.'Tis night-the shade of keep and spire Obscurely dance.on Evan's stream, And on the wave the warder's fire Is chequering the moonlight beam.' ____ ______ _________________ _____________________________

Page  528 C-4DY0W CAs'rL Fades slow their ight; the east is grey; The weary warder leaves his tow'r; Steeds snort; uncoupl'd stag-hounds bay, And merry hunters quit the bow'r. The draw-bridge falls-they hurry outClatters each plank and swinging chain, As, dashing o'er, the jovial route Urge the shy steed, and slack the rein. First of his troop, the Ohief rode on: His shouting merry-men throng behind; The steed of princely Hamilton Was fleeter than the mountain wind. From the thick copse the roe-bucks bound, The startling red-deer scuds the plain; For, the hoarse bugle's warrior sound Has rous'd their mountain haunts again. Through the huge oaks of Evandale, Whose limbs a thousand years have worn, What sullen roar comes down the gale, And drowns the hunter's pealing horn? Mightiest of all the beasts of chace, That roam in woody Caledon, Crashing the forest in-his race, The Mountain Bull comes thund'ring on. Fierce, on the hunters' quiver'd band, He rolls his eyes of swarthy glow, Spurns, with black hoof and horn, the sand, And tosses high his mane of snow. Aim'd well, the chieftain's lance has flown; Struggling in blood the savage lies; His roar is sunk in hollow groanSound, merry huntsmenl sound the prysel*'Tis noon-against the knotted oak The hunters rest the idle spear; Curls through the trees the slender smoke, Where yeomen dight the woodland cheer. Proudly the chieftain mark'd his clan, On greenwood lap all careless thrown, Yet miss'd his eye the boldest man, That bore the name of Hamilton, * Pryse-The note blown at the death of the game.

Page  529 CADYOW CASTLE. 529 "Why fills not Bothwellha.ugh his place, Still wont our weal and woe to share? Why comes he not our sport to grace? Why shares he not our hunter's fare?" Stern Claud replied, with dark'ning face, (Grey Pasley's haughty lord was he) "At merry feast, or buxom chace, No more the warrior shalt thou see. " Few suns have set, since Woodhouselee Saw Bothwellhaugh's bright goblets foam, When to his hearths, in social glee, The war-worn soldier turn'd him home. "c There, wan from her maternal throes, His Marg'ret, beautiful and mild, Sate in her bow'r, a pallid rose, And peaceful nurs'd her new-born child. 0 O change accurs'd! past are those days: False Murray's ruthless spoilers came, And, for the hearth's domestic blaze, Ascends destruction's volum'd flame.' What sheeted phantom wanders wild, Where mountain Eske through woodland flow,. Her arms enfold a shadowy child — Oh, is it she, the pallid rose?' The wilder'd trav'ller sees her glide, And hears her feeble voice with awe-'Revenge,' she cries, on Murray's pride! And woe for injur'd Bothwellhaughl"' lie ceas'd-and cries of rage and grief Burst mingling from the kindred band, And half arose the kindling Chief, And half unsheath'd his Arran brand. But who, o'er bush, o'er stream, and rock, Rides headlong, with resistless speed, Whose bloody's poniard's frantic stroke Drives to the leap his jaded. steed; Whose cheek his pale, whose eye-balls glare, As one, some vision'd sight that saw, Whose hands are bloody, loose his hair?-'Tis he!'tis he!'tis Bothwellhaughl From gory' selle, and reeling steed, Sprung the fierce horsellana with a bound,

Page  530 530 CADYOW CASTLE. And, reeking from the recent deed, He dash'd his carbine on the ground. Sternly he spoke-"'Tis sweet to hear, In good green wood the bugle blown; But sweeter to Revenge's ear, To drink a tyrant's dying groan. "Your slaughter'd quarry proudly trode, At dawning morn, o'er dale and down, But prouder base-born Murray rode Through old Linlithgow's crowded town. "From the wild Border's humbled side, In haughty triumph, marched he, While Knox relax'd his bigot pride, And smil'd, the trait'rous pomp to see. "But, can stern Pow'r, with all his vaunt, Or Pomp, with all her courtly glare, The settled heart of Vengeance daunt, Or change the purpose of Despair? "With hackbut bent, my secret stand Dark as the purpos'd deed, I chose, And mark'd, where, mingling in his band, Troop'd Scottish pikes and English bowv. "Dark Morton, girt with many a spear, Murder's foul minion, led the van; And clash'd their broad-swords in the rear, The wild Macfarlanes' plaided clan. "Glencairn and stout Parkhead were nigh, Obsequious at their Regent's rein, And haggard Lindesay's iron eye, That saw fair Mary weep in vain. "Mid pennon'd spears, a steely grove, Proud Murray's plumage floated high; Ecarce could his trampling charger move, So close the minions crowded nigh. "From the rais'd visor's shade, his eye, Dark rolling, glanc'd the ranks along, And his steel truncheon, wav'd on high, Seem'd marshalling the iron throng. " But yet his sadden'd brow confess'd A passing shade of doubt and awe; Some fiend was whisp'ring in his breast,'Beware of injur'd Bothwellhaughl'

Page  531 'AS:olW c.:s Le:L. 531 gThe death-shot parts-the charger springs — Wild rises tumult's startling roar — And Murray's plumy helmet rings— Rings on the ground, to rise no more. " What joy the raptur'd youth can feel, To hear her love the lov'd one tell, Or he, who broaches on his steel The wolf, by whom his infant felll "' But dearer'to my injur'd eye, To see in dust proud Murray rolls And mine was ten times trebled joy To hear him groan his felon soul.', My Marg'ret's spectre glided near; With pride her bleeding victim saw; And shriek'd in his death-deafen'd ear,'Remember injur'd Bothwellhaugh!' " Then speed thee, noble Chatlerault! Spread to the wind thy banner'd tree! Each warrior bend his Clydesdale bowl — Murray is fall'n, and Scotland free. Vaults ev'ry warrior to his steed; Loud bugles join their wild acclaim" Murray is fall'n, and Scotland freed! Couch, ArranI couch thy spear of flamel' But, see! the Minstrel vision failsThe glimm'ring spears are seen no mores The shouts of war die on the gales, Or sink in Evan's lonely roar. For the loud bugle, pealing high, The blackbird whistles down the vale, And sunk in ivied ruins lie The banner'd tow'rs of Evandale. For chiefs, intent on bloody deed, And Vengeance, shouting o'er the slain, I)o! high-born Beauty rules the steed, Or graceful guides the silken rein. And long may Peace and Pleasure own The maids, who list the Minstrel's tale} Nor e'er a ruder guest be known Oanthe fair banks of Evandale.

Page  532 TI3 E GREY BROTHEIP. THE GREY BROTHELR. A FRAGMENT. ['fhe tradition, upon which this fragment is foended. regards a house, upon the barony of Gilmerton, near Laswade, in Mid Lothian. This building, now called Gilmerton-Grange was formerly named Burndale, fi'om the following tragic adventure. The barony of Gilmerton be. longed, of yore, to a gentleman, named Heron, who had one beautiful daughter. This young lady was seduced by the abbot of Newbottle, a richly endowed abbey, ugpon the banks of the South Esk, now a seat of the marquis of ILothian. Heron came to the knowledge of this circumstance, and learned, also, that the lovers carried on their guilty intercourse by the contrivance of the lady's nurser who lived at this house, of Gilmerton-Grange, or Burndale. He formed a resolution of bloody vengeance, unde.terred by the supposed sanctity of the clerical character or by the stronger claims of natural affection. Choosing, therefore, a dark and windy night, when the objects of his vengeance were engaged in a stolen interview, he set fire to a stack of dried thorns, and other combustibles, which he had caused to be piled against the house, and reduced to a pile of glowing ashes the, dwelling, with all its inmates, The scene, with which the ballad opens, was suggested by the following curious passage, extracted from the life of Alexander Peden, one of the wandering and persecuted teachers of the sect of Cameronians, during the reign of Charles IL, and his successor, James.'"About the same time he (Peden) came to Andrew Normand's house, in the parish of Alloway, in the shire of Ayr, being to preach at night in his barn. After he came in, he halted a little, leaning upon a chair back, with his face covered; when he,lifted up his head, he said,' There are in this house that I have not one word of salvation unto;' he halted a little again, saying,' This is strange, that the devil will not go out, that we may begin our workl' Then there was a woman went out, ill-looked upon almost all her life, and to her dying hour, for a witch, with many presumptions of the same. It escaped me, in the former passages, that John Muirhead (whom I have often mentioned) told me, that when he came from Ireland to Galloway, he was at family. worship, and giving some notes upon the scripture, when a very ill-looking man came, and sate down within the door, at the back of the hallan (partition of the cottage:) imn mediately he halted, and said, There is some unhappy,

Page  533 T-IE GIhEY BROT1IER. 5;3 tbody just now come into this house. I charge him to go out, and not stop my mouth!' The person went out, and he insisted (went on), yet he saw him neither come in nor go out." — The Life and Prophecies o AMr. Alexander Peden, ltate Mnister of the Gospel at New Glenluce, iu Gallowash, part ii. see. 26.] THEn Pope he was saying the high, high mas, All on saint Peter's day, With the pow'r to him giv'n, by the saints in hcav'r To wash men's sins away, The Pope he was saying the blessed mass, And the people kneel'd around; And from each man's soul his sins did pass, As he kiss'd the holy ground. And all, among the crowded throng, Was still,:both limb and tongue, While through vaulted roof, and aisles aloof; The holy accents rung. At the holiest word he quiver'd for fear And falter'd in the soundAnd, when he would the chalice rear, lie dropp'd it on the ground.' The breath of one, of evil deed, Pollutes our sacred day; 3le has no portion in our creed, No part in what I say. A being, whom no blessed word To ghostly peace can bring; A wretch, at whose approach abhorr'd, Recoils.each holy thing. "'Up, up, unhappy! haste, ariseMy adjuration fear! I charge thee not to stop my voice, Nor longer tarry herel" Amid them all a Pilgrim kneeld, In gown of sackcloth gray:;Par journeying from his native field, lie first saw Rome that day.?For forty days and nights so drear I ween, he had not spoke, And, save with bread and water clear, Zis fast he ne'er had broke.

Page  534 .~34 L~TIE GREY BROTHEEr Amid the penitential flock, Seem'd none more bent to pray, But, when the Holy Father spoke, He rose, and went his way. Again unto his native land, His weary course he drew, To Lothian's fair and fertile strand, And Pentland's mountains blue. His unblest feet his native seat, Mid Eske's fair woods, regain; Through woods more fair no stream more sw.ea, Rolls to the eastern main. And Lords to meet the Pilgrim came, And vassals bent the knee; For all mid Scotland' chiefs of fame, Was none more fam'd than he. And boldly for his country still, In battle he had stood, Aye, e'en when, on the banks of Til, Her noblest pour'd their blood. Sweet are the paths, O, passing sweetl By Eske's fair streams that run, O'er airy steep through copsewood deetp Impervious to the sun. There the rapt poet's step may rove, And yield the muse the day; There Beauty, led by timid Love, May shun the tell-tale ray; From that fair dome, where suit is pai& By blast of bugle free, To Auehendinny's hazel glade, And haunted Woodhouselee. Who knows not Melville's beechy grov And Roslin's rocky glen, Dalkeith, which all the virtues love,. And classic Hawthornden? Yet never a path, from day to day, The Pilgrim's footsteps range, Save but the solitary way, To Burndale's ruined Grange. A woeful place was that, I ween, As Eorrow could desire;

Page  535 THE GREY BROTHER. For. nodding to the fall was each crumbling waull, And the roof was scath'd with fire. It fell upon a summer's eve, While, on Carnethy's head, The last faint gleams of the sun's low beams Had streak'd the grey with red; And the convent bell did vespers tell, Newbottle's oaks among, And mingled with the solemn knell Our Lady's evening song: The heavy knell, the choir's faint swell, Came slowly down the wind, And on the Pilgrim's ear they fell, As his wonted path he did find. Deep sunk in thought, I ween, he was, Nor ever raised his eye, Until he came to that dreary place, Which did all in ruins lie. He gaz'd on the walls, so scath'd with fire, With many a bitter groanAnd there was aware of a Grey Friar, Resting him on a stone. "Now, Christ thee save!" said the Grey Brother' Some pilgrim thou seem'st to be;" But in sore amaze did Lord Albert gaze, Nor answer again made he. "0 come ye from east, or come ye from west, Or bring reliques from over the sea; Or come ye from the shrine of Saint James the divine, Or Saint John of Beverley?" I come not from the shrine of Saint.Jamres the divine Nor bring reliques from over the sea; I bring but a curse from our father, the Pope, Which for ever will cling to me." U Now, woeful Pilgrim, say not so! But kneel thee down by me, And shrive thee so clean of thy deadly sin, That absolved thou may'st be." " And who art thou, thou Grey Brother, That I should shrive to thee, When he, to whom are giv'n the keys of earth and heav'n, Has no pow'r to pardon me?"

Page  536 536 THOMA S THE RHYMEBR.L " O I am sent from a distant clime, Five thousand miles away, And all to absolve a foul, foul crime, Done here'twixt night and day." The Pilgrim kneel'd him on the sand, And thus began his sayeWhen on his neck an ice-cold hand Did that Grey Brother laye. THOMAS THE RHYMERI IN THREE PARTS. [Few personages are so renowned in tradition as Thomas of Erceldoune, known by the appellation of The Rhymer. It is agreed, on all hands, that the residence, and probably the birth place, of this ancient bard, was Erceldoune, a village situate upon the Leader, two miles above its junction with the Tweed. The ruins of an ancient tower are still pointed out as the Rhymer's castle. The uniform tradition bears, that his sirname was Lermont, or Learmont; and that the appellation of The Rhymer was conferred on him in consequence of his poetical composition, There remains, nevertheless, some doubt upon this subject. We are better able to ascertain the period at which Thomas of Erceldoune lived; being the latter end of the thirteenth century. It cannot be doubted, that Thomas of Erceldoune was a remarkable and important person in his own time, since very shortly after his death, we find him celebrated as a prophet, and as a poet. Whether he him.self made any pretensions to the first of these characters, or whether it was gratuitously conferred upon him by the credulity of posterity, it seems difficult to decide. The popular tale bears, that Thomas was carried off, at an early age, to the Fairy Land, where he acquired all the knowledge which made him afterwards so famous. After seven years' residence he was permitted to return to the earth, to enlighten and astonish his countrymen, by his prophetic powers; still, however, remaining bound to return to his royal mistress, when she would intimate her pleasure. Accordingly, while Thomas was making merry with his friends, in the tower of Erceldoune, a person came running in, and told, with marks of fear and astonishment, that a hart and hind had left the neighbouring forest, and were composedly and slowly parading the street of the 1.__~~~~~_.

Page  537 THOMAS THE RHYMER. 53' village. The prophet instantly arose, let% his habitation, and followed the wonderful animals to the forest, whence he was never seen to;return. The following ballad, is given from a copy, obtained from a lady, residing not far from Erceldoune, corrected and enlarged by one in Mrs. Brown's MSS. To this old tale the author has ventured to add a Second Part, consisting of a kind of Cento, from the printed prophecies vulgarly ascribed to the Rhymer; and a Third Part, entirely modern, founded upon the tradition of his having returned with the hart and hind to the Land of Faerie.] PART:FIRST. ANCIENT. TRIUE Thomas lay on Huntlie bank; A ferlie he spied wi' his e'e; And there he saw a ladye bright, Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, Her mantle o' the velvet fyne; At ilka tett of her horse's mane, Hang fifty siller bells and nine. True Thomas, he pull'd afi his cap, And louted low down to his knee,"All hail, thou mighty queen of heaven! For thy peer on earth I never did see." 0 no, 0 no, Thomas," she said; " That name does not belang to me; I am but the queen of fair Elfland, That am hither come to visit thee. "Harp and carp, Thomas," she said; " Harp and carp along with me; And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your bodie I will be." "Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird* shall neveir danton me." Syne he has kiss'd her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree. "Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said; "True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me; And ye maun serve me seven years, Through weal or woe as may chance to be." * That weird, ~4c.-That destiny shall never frighten me. 47

Page  538 THOMAS THE RHYMER. She mounted on her milk-white steed; She's ta'en true Thomas up behind; And aye, when'er her bridle rung, The steed flew swifter than the wind. O they rade on, and farther on; The steed gaed swifter than the wind; Until they reach'd a desart wide, And living land was left behind. "Light down, light down, now, true Thomas And lean your head upon my knee Abide, and rest a little space, And I will shew you ferlies three. " 0 see ye not yon narrow road, So thick beset with thorns and briers?That is the path of righteousness, Though after it but few enquires. "And see not ye that braid, braid road, That lies across that lily leven? — That is the path of wickedness, Though some call it the road to heaven.' And see not ye that bonny road, That winds about the fernie brae? — That is the road to fair Elfiand, Where thou and I this night maun gae, "But, Thomas, ye maunn hold your tongue, Whatever ye may hear or see For, if you speak word in Elflyn land, Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie." 0 they rade on, and farther on, And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea, It was mirk, mirk night, and there was nae starn light, And they waded through red blude to the knee, For a' the blude, that's shed on earth, Rins through the springs o' that countrie, Syne they came on to a garden green, And she pu'd an apple frae a tree"Take this for thy wages, true Thomas; It will give thee the tongue that can never li."

Page  539 'THOMAS THE RHYMER 5 "My tongue is mine aii," true Thomas said; "A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! I neither dought to buy nor sell, At fair or tryst, where I may be. "I dought neither speak to prince or peer, Nor ask of grace from fair ladye.; "Now hold thy peace!'" the ladye said. "For, as I say, so must it be." He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green; And, till seven years were gane and past Train Thomas on earth was neven seemn. PART SECOND. ALTERED FROM ANCIENT PROPHECIES. [Corspatrick (Comes Patriek), earl of March, But more commonly taking his title from his castle of Dunbar, acted a noted part during the wars of Edward I. in Scotiand. As Thomas of Erceldoune is said to have delivered to him his famous prophecy of king Alexander's death, the author has chosen to intrqduce him into the following ballad. All the prophetic verses are selected from Hart's publication of the Rhymer's predictions printed at Edinburgh A, 1. 1615.1 WHEN seven years were come and gane, The sun blink'd fair on pool and stream;1 And Thomas lay on Huntlie bank, Like one awaken'd from a dream. He heard the trampling of a steed, He saw the flash of armour flee, And he beheld a gallant knight, Come riding down by the Eildon Tree HIe was a stalwart knight, and, strong; Of giant make he'pear'd to be: He stirr'd his horse, as he were wode, Wi' gilded spurs, of faushion free. Says-"Well met, true Thomas! Some uncouth ferlies shew to me." Says-"Christ thee save, Corspavrick borar Thrice welcome, good Dunbar, to me! "Light down, light down, Corspatrick brarv, And I will shew thee curses three

Page  540 r40 THOMAS THE RHIMR.. Shall gar fair Scotland greet and grane,And change the green to the black liveiyr. "A storm shall roar, this very hour, From Rosse's Hills to Solway sea," "Ye lied, ye lied, ye warlock hoarl For the sun shines sweet on fauld and leae He put his hand on the earlie's head; He shew'd him a rock, beside the sea, Where a king lay stiff, beneath his steed, And steel-dight nobles wip'd their e'e. " The neist curse lights on Branxton Hills: By Flodden's high and heathery side, Shall wave a banner, red as blade, And chieftains throng wi' meikle pride. a A Scottish king shall come full keen; The ruddy lion beareth he: A feather'd arrow sharp, I ween, Shall make him wink and warre to see. "When he his bloody, and all to bledde, Thus to his men he still shall say-' For God's sake, turn ye back again, And give yon southern folk a fray l Why should I lose the right is mine? My doom is not to die this day.'' Yet turn ye to the eastern hand, And woe and wonder ye shall see; ]How forty thousand spearmen stand, Where yon rank river meets the sea. " There shall the lion lose the gylte, And the libbards bear it clean away; At Pinkyn Cleuch there shalt be spilt Much gentil blude that day." "Enough, enough, of curse and ban; Som'e blessing shew thou now to me, Or, by the faith o' my bodie," Corspatrick sad, "Ye shall rue the day ye e'er saw mel" "The first of blessings I shall thee shew, Is by a burn, that's called of bread; Where Saxon men shall tine the bow, And find their arrows lack the head, "B eside that brigg, out-ower that burn, Where the water bickereth bright and sheen,

Page  541 TRHOMS- THE Ra~BYMEI 541 Shall many a falling courser spurn, And knights shall die in battle keent " Beside a headless cross of stone, The limbbards there shall lose the greer The raven shall come, the erne shall go, And drink the Saxon blood sae free. The cross of' stone they. shall not know, So thick the corses there shall be." But tell me now," said brave Dunbar, "True Thomas, tell now unto me, What man shall rule the isle Britain, Ev'n from the north to the southern sea?' "A French queen shall bear the son, Shall rule all Britain to the sea; He of the Bruce's blood shall come, As near as in the ninth degree. "The waters worship shall his race; Likewise the waves of the farthest sea; For they shall ride ower ocean wide, With hempen bridles, and horse of tree.' PART THIPRD. MODERN. WHEN seven years more had come and gone, Was war through Scotland spread, And Ruberslaw show'd high Dunyon His beacon blazing red. Then all by bonny Coldingknow, Pitch'd palliouns took their room, And crested helms, and spears a rowe, Glance'd gaily through the broom. The Leader, rolling to the Tweed, Resounds the ensenzie; They rous'd the deer from Caddenhead, To distant Torwoodlee. The feast was spread in Ercildoune, In Learmount's high and ancient hallt And there were knights of great renown, And ladies, laced in pall. Nor lack'd they, while they sat at dine, The music nor the tale, 47*

Page  542 442 MOMAS tHt RAYtME. Nor goblets of the blood-red wine, Nor mantling quaighs* of ale. True Thomas rose with harp in hand,. When as the feast was done; (In minstrel strife, in Fairy Land, The elfin harp he won.) Hush'd were the throng, both limb and bbngue, And harpers for envy pale; And armed lords lean'd on their swords, And hearken'd to the tale. In numbers high, the witching tale The prophet pour'd along; No after bard might e'er avail Those numbers to prolong. Yet fragments of the lofty strain Float down the tide of years, As, buoyant on the stormy main, A parted wreck appears. He sung King Arthur's table round: The warrior of the lake; How courteous Gawaine met the wound, And bled for ladies' sake. But chief, in gentle Tristrem's praise, The notes melodious swell; Was none excell'd in Arthur's days, The knight of Lionelle. For Marke, his cowardly uncle's rights A venom'd wound he bore; When fierce Morholde he slew in fight Upon the Irish shore. No art the poison might withstand; No med'cine could be found, Till lovely Isolde's lily hand Had prob'd the rankling wound. With gentle hand and soothing tongea, She bore the leech's part; And, while she o'er his sick-bed hung, Heo paid her with his heart. a Quaighs.-Wo oden cups, composed of staves hooped together.

Page  543 THOMAS TnIU RYMiERtb 0 fhtal was the gift, I weenl For, doom'd in evil tide, The maid must be rude Cornwall's queen, His cowardly uncle's bride. Their loves, their woes, the gifted bard In fairy tissue wove; Where lords, and knights, and ladies bright, In gay confusion strove. The Garde Joyense, amid the tale, High rear'd its glittering head; And Avalon's enchanted vale In all its wonders spread. Brengwain was there, and Segramore, And fiend-born Merlin's gramarye; Of that fam'd wizard's mighty lore, O who could sing but he? Through many a maze the winning song In changeful passion led, Till bent at length the list'ning throng O'er Tristrem's dying bed. His ancient wounds their scars expand With agony his heart is wrung; O where is Isolde's lily hand; And where her soothing tongue? She comes, she comes! like flash of flame Can lovers' footsteps Iiy: She comes, she comes!: she only came To see her Tristrem die. She saw him die: her latest sigh Join'd in a kiss his parting breath The gentlest pair that Britain bare; United are in death. There paus'd the harp; itsling'ring sotund, Died slowly on the ear; The silent guests still bent around, For still they seem'd to hear. Then woe, broke forth in murmurs weak Nor ladies heav'd alone the sigh; But, half asham'd, the rugged cheek Did many a gauntlet dry.. _ _ _ _._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _....____._._______________________._______ I

Page  544 THOMAS THE RHYMIER On Leader's stream, and Learmont's tow'r, The mists of evening close; In camp, in castle, or in bow'r, Each warrior sought repose. Lord Douglas in his lofty tent, I)ream'd o'er the woeful tale; When footsteps light, across the bent, The warrio's ears assail. He starts, he wakes: —" What, Richard, hol Arise, my page, arise! What vent'rous wight, at dead of night, Dare step where Douglas lies?' Then forth they rushed: by Leader's tide, A selcouth* sight they seeA hart and hind pace side by side, As white as snow on Fairnalie. Beneath the moon, with gesture proud, They stately move and slow; Nor scare they at the gath'ring crowd, Who marvel as they go. To Learmont's tow'r a message sped, As fast as page might run; And Thomas started from his bed, And soon his clothes did on. First he woxe pale, and then woxe red; Never a word he spake but three;" My sand is run; my thread is spun; This sign regardeth me." The Elfin harp his neck around, In minstrel guise, he hung; And on the wind, in doleful sound, Its dying accents rung. Then forth he went; yet turn'd him oft To view his ancient hall; On the grey tow'r, in lustre soft, The autumn moon-beams fall, And Leader's waves, like silver sheen, Danc'd shimm'ring in the ray: In deep'ning mass, at distance seen, Broad Soltra's mountains lay. *'elcouth-Wondrous.

Page  545 THI mnRE-SING. 645 "Farewell, my father's ancient tow'rl A long farewell," said he: U The scene of pleasure, pomp, or pow'r,. Thou never more shalt be. " To Learmont's name no foot of earth Shall here again belong, And on thy hospitable hearth The hare shall leave her young. aAdieul Adieu!" again he cried, All as he turn'd him roun'"Farewell to Leader's silver tidet Farewell to Ercildounel" The hart and hind approach'd the place, As ling'ring yet he stood; And there, befbre Lord Douglas' face, With them he cross'd the flood. Lord Douglas leap'd on his berry.browun steed And spurr'd him the Leader o:er; But, though he rode with lightning speed He never saw them more. Some said to hill, and spme'to gIen,. Their wondrous course had been;But ne'er in haunts of living men Agai was Thomas seen. THE FIELKING. "The blessings of the-evil Genii wghieh are curses, were upon him." Eastern Tale. [This ballad was written at the request of!Mr. Lewis, to be inserted in his "Trales of Wonder." It is the third in a series of four ballads, on the subject of Elementary Spirits The story is, however, partly historical; for it is recorded, that, during the struggles of the Latin kingdom of Jeru. salem, a knight-templar, called Saint -Aban, deserted to the Saracens, and defeated the Christians in many combats, till he was finally routed and slain, in a anfiict with King. Baldwin, under the wallsof Jerusalem.] BOLD knights and fair dames, to my harp give an ear, Of love, and of war, and of wonder to hear;

Page  546 540 THE BIRE-BEING. And you haply may sigh, in the midst of your glee At the tale of Count Albert. and fair Rosalie. 0 see you that castle, so strong and so high? And see you that lady, the tear in her eye? And see you that palmer, from Palestine's land, The shell on his hat, and the staff in his hand?" Now palmer, grey palmer, 0 tell unto me, What news bring you home from the Holy Countrie? And how goes the warfare by Galilee's strand? And how fare our nobles, the flow'r of the land? " O well goes the warfare by Galilee's wave, For Gilead, and Nablous, and Ramah we have; And well fare our nobles by Mount Lebanon, For the Heathen have lost, and the Christians have. won."A fair chain of gold'mid her ringlets there hung: O'er the palmer's grey locks the fair chain has she flung: 1 "0 palmer, grey palmer, this chain be thy fee For the news thou hast brought from the Holy Countrie. "0 palmer, good palmer, by Galilee's wave, O saw ye Count Albert, the gentle and brave? When the Crescent went back, and the Red-cros rush'd on, O saw ye him foremost on Mount Lebanon?" — "0 lady, fair lady, the tree green it grows; O lady, fair lady, the stream pure it flows; Your castle stands strong, and your hopes soar on high But lady, fair lady, all blossoms to die. "The green boughs they wither, the thunderbolt falls, It leaves of your castle but levin-scorched walls The pure stream runs muddy; the gay hope is gone; Count Albert is pris'ner on Mount Lebanon."O she's ta'en a horse, should be fleet at her speed; And she's ta'en a sword, should be sharp at her need; And she has ta'en shipping for Palestine's land, To ransom Count Albert from Soldanrie's hand. Small thought had Count Albert on fair Rosalie, Small thought on his faith, or his knighthood, had he; A heathenish damsel his light heart had won, The Soldan's fair daughter of Mount Lebanon.

Page  547 TEE FIRE-ZINaG, 547 "rOh Christian, brave Christian, my love would'st thou be, Three things must thou do ere I hearken to thee: Our laws and our worship on thee shalt thou take; And this thou shalt first do for Zulema's sake. And, next, in the cavern, where burns evermore The mystical flame which the Curdmansadore, Alone, and in silence, three nights shalt thou wakes And this thou shalt next do for Zulema'ssake.'And, last, thou shalt aid us with council and hand, To drive the Frank robber fromn Palestine's land; For my lord and my ltove then Count Albert I'll take When all this is accomplish'd for Zulema's sake."He has thrown by his helmet and cross-handled sword, Renouncing his knighthood, denying his Lord; He has ta'en the green caftan, and turban put on, For the love of the maiden of fair Lebanon. And in the dread cavern, deep deep-under ground, Which fifty steel gates and steel portals surround, He has watch'd until day-break, but sight saw. he. none, Save the flame burning bright on its altar of stone. Amaz'd was the princess, the oldan amaz'd, Sore mnurmur'd the priests as on Albert.they ga'd; The search'd all his garments, and, under his weeds They found, and took from him, his rosary beads. Again in the cavern, deep deep under ground, le watch'd the lone night, while the winds.. whistled round; Far off was their murmnr, it came not more nigh, The flame burn'd unmov'd, and nought: else did he spy, Loud murmur'd the priests, and amaz'd was the king, While many dark spells of their witchcraft they sing. They search'd Albert's body, and lol on his breast Was the sign of the Cross, by his father impress'd.'The priests they erase it with care -and with pain, And the recreant return'd to the cavern again; But, as he descended, a whisper there fell!It was his good angel, who bade him farewell! High bristled his hair, his heart flutter'd and beat, And he turn'd him five steps, half resolv'd to retreatBut his heart it was harden'd,' his purpose was gone, When he thought on- the maiden of fair Lenanon.

Page  548 TUA tPIRE-KIN,. Sarce pass'd he the archway, the threshold scarce tro When the winds from the four points of heavu were abroad; They made each steel portal to rattle and ring, And, borne on the blast, came the dread Fire-King Full sore rock'd the cavern whene'er he drew nigh, The fire-on the altar blaz'd bick'ring and high; In volcanic explosions the mountains pronlaim The dreadful approach of the Monarch oi Flame. Unmeasur'd in height, undistinguish'd in form, His breath it was lightning, his voice it was storm, I ween the stout heart of Count Albert was tame. When he saw in his terrors the Monarch of Flame. In his hand a broad falchion blue-glimmer'd tlirongh smoke And Mount Lebanon shook as the monarch he spoke: — "With this brand shalt thou conquer, thus lvng, and no more, Till thou bend to the Cross, and the Virgin adore.' The cloud-shrouded arm gives the weapon; and see The recreant receives the charm'd gift on his knee: The thunders growl distant, and faint gleam the fires, As, borne on his whirlwind, the Phantom retires, Count Albert has arm'd him the Paynim among, Though his heart it was false, yet his arm it was strong; And the Red-cross wax'd faint, and the Crescent came on,, From the day he commanded on Mount Lebanon. From Lebanon's forests to Galilee's wave, The sands of Samaar drank the blood of the brave; Till the Knights of the Temple, and Knights of Saint John, With Salem's King Baldwin, against him came on. The war-cymbals clatter'd, the trumpets replied, The lances were-couch'd and they clos'd on each side; And horsmen and horses Count Albert o'erthrew, Till he pierc'd the thick tumult King Baldwin unto. Against the charm'd blade which Count Albert did wield The fence had been vain of the King's Red-crows shield; But a Page thrust him forward the monarch before, And cleft the proud turban the renegade wore. So fell was the dint, that Count Albert stoop'd low Before the cross'd shield, to his steel saddle-bow; And scarce had he bent to the Red-cross his head, ".Bonne race, notre Dame," he unwittingly smia

Page  549 TRInDRSICK A A2i1OL.$ 4 S ore sighed the charm'd sword, for his virtue was oier, It sprung from his grasp, and was never seen more; But true men have said, that the lightning's red wing Did waft back the brand to the dread Fire-King. He clench'd his set teeth, and his gauntletted hand; HIe strech'd, with one buffet, that Page on the strand; As back from the stripling the broken casque roll d, You might see the blue eyes, and the ringlets of gold. Short time had Count Alber in horror to stare On those death-swnmming eyre-ball, and blood-clotted hair; For down came the Templars, like Cedron in flood, And dyed their long lances in Saracen blood. The Saracens, Curdmans, ana Ishmaclites yield To the scallop, the saltier, and crossletted shield And the eagles were gorg'd with the infidel dead, From Bethsaida's fountains to Naphtali's head, The battle is over on Bethsaida's plain. — Oh, who is yon Paynim lies stretch'd'mid the slain? And who is yon Page lying cold at his knee?Oh, who but Count Albert and fair Rosalie: The' Lady was biried in Salem's bless'd boun4, The Count he was left to the vulture and hound: Her soeal to high mercy Our Lady did bring; His went on the blast to the dread Fire-King. Yet many a minstrel, in harping, can tell, How the Red Cross it conquer'd, the Crescent it fell; And lords and gay ladies have sigh'd,'mid their glee, At the tale of Count Albert and fair Rosalie. FREDERICK AND ALICE. IThis tale is imitated, rather than translated, from a flahgment introduced in Goethe's "Claudina von Villa Bella," where it is sung by a member of a gang of banditti, to engage the attention of the family, while his companions bieaki into the castle.1 FRED'RICR leaves the land of Fmne, Homewards hastes his steps to meas. e; Careless casts the parting glance, On the scene of former pleasr-e; I ____________________________________________________________ ______ __________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Page  550 FIEDERICK AND ALITe. Joying in his prancing steed, Keen to prove his untried blade, Hope's gay dreams the soldier lead, Overmountain, moor, and glade. Helpless, ruin'd, left forlorn, Lovely Alice wept alone; Mourn'd o'er love's fond contract tor~n Hope, and peace, and honour flow% Mark her breast's convulsive throbs!' See, the tear of anguish flows: Mingling soon with bursting sobs, Loud the laugh of frenzy rose. Wild she curs'd and wild she pray'dV Sevn long days and nights are o'er; Death in pity brought his aid, As the village bell struck four. Far from her, and far from France, Faithless Fred'rick onward rides; Marking, blithe, the morning's glance Mantling o'er the mountain's sides. Heard ye not the boding sound, As the tongue of yonder tow'r Slowly, to the hills around, Told the fourth, the fated hour? Starts the steed, and snuffs the air,, Yet no cause of dread' appears;. Bristles high the rider's hair, Struck with strange mysterious fears Desp'rate, as his terrors rise, In the steed the spur he hides; From himself in vain he flies; Anxious, restless, on he rides. Sev'n long days, and sev'n long nights, Wild he wander'd. woe the while! Ceaseless care, and causeless fright, Urge his footsteps many a mile. Dark the sev'nth sad night descends; Rivers awell,. and rain-streams pour; While the dcaf'ning thunder lends All the terrors of its roar. Weary, wet, and spent with toil,. Where his head shall Fred'rick hide?

Page  551 FREDEIICK AND ALXICE. 551 Where, but in yon ruined aisle, By the lightning's flash descried? To the portal, dank and low, Fast his steed the wand'rer bound; Down a ruin'd staircase slow, Next his darkling way he wound. Long drear vaults before him lie; Glimm'ring lights are seen to glide l"Blessed Mary, hear my cry! Deign a sinner's steps to guidel" — Often lost their quiv'ring beam, Still the lights move slow before, _'ill they rest their ghastly gleam Right against an iron door. Thund'ring voices from within, Mix'd with peals of laughter, rose, As they fell, a solemn strain Lent its wild and wond'rous closel Midst the din, he seem'd to hear. Voice offriends, by death remov'd — Well'he knew that solemn air,'Twas the lay that Alice lov'd.Hark I for now a solemn knell Four times on the still night broke; Four times, at its deaden'd swell, Echoes from the ruins spoke. As the lengthen'd clangours die, Slowly opes the iron door! Straight a banquet met his eye, But a funeral's form it wore! Coffins for the seats extend; All with black the board was spread, Girt by parent, brother, friend, Long since number'd with the deadl Alice, in her grave-clothes bound, Ghastly smiling, points a seat; All arose, with thund'ring sound;-.All th' expected stranger greet. High their meagre arms they wave, Wild their notes of welcome swell; —

Page  552 5'2 THE WILD HUTqMTSE1~. "Welcome, traitor, to the grave! Perjur'd, bid the light farewell." THE WILD HUNTSMEN. rThis is a translation, or rather an imitation, of the Wilde Jager of the German poet Burger. The tradition upon which it is founded bears, that formerly a Wildgrave, or keeper of a royal forest, named Falkenburgh, was so much addicted to the pleasures of the chase, and otherwise so extremely profligate and cruel, that he not only followed this unhallowed amusement on the Sabbath, and other days consecrated to religious duty, but accompanied it with the most unheard of oppression upon the poor peasants, who were under his vassalage. When this second Nimrod died, the people adopted a superstition, founded probably on the many various uncouth sounds heard in the deepth of a German forest, during the silence of the night. They conceived they still heard the cry of the Wildgrave's hounds; and the well-known cheer of the deceased hunter, the sounds of his horses' feet, and the rustling of the branches before the game, the pack, and the sportsmen, are also distinctly discriminated; but the phantoms are rarely, if ever, visible.] Tnz Wildgrave winds his bugle horn, To horse, to horse! halloo, hallooI His fiery courser snuffs the morn, And thronging serfs their lord pursue. The eager pack, from couples freed, Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake; While answering hound, and horn, and steed, The mountain echoes startling wake, The beams of God's own hallow'd day Had painted yonder spire with gold, And, calling sinful man to pray, Loud, long, and deep, the bell had toil'd: But still the Wildgrave onward rides; Halloo, Halloo and, hark again! When, spurring from opposing sides, Two Stranger Horsemen join the train., Who was each Stranger, left and right,' Well may I guess, but dare not te.ll; The right-hand steedwas silver white, The left, the swartny hue of hell.

Page  553 THE WILD HUNTSMEN. 553 The right-hand'horseman, young and fair, His smile was like the morn of May; The left, from eye of tawny glare, Shot midnight lightning's lurid ray. He wav'd his huntsman's cap on high, Cried, "Welcome, welcome, noble lord? What sport on earth, or sea, or sky, To match the princely chase, afford?' "Cease thy loud bugle's clanging knell," Cried the fair youth, with silver voice; -"And for devotion's choral swell, Exchange the rude unhallow'd noise, "To-day, th' ill-omen'd chase forbear, Yon bell yet summons to the fane; To-day the Warning Spirit hear, To-morrow thou may'st mourn in vain."Away, and sweep the glades along!" The Sable Hunter hoarse replies; "To mutt'ring monks leave matin-song, And bells, and books, and mysteries." The Wildgrave spurr'd his ardent steed, And, launching forward with a bound, "Who, for thy drowsy priestlike rede, Would leave the jovial horn and hound? " Hence, if our manly sport offend! With pious fools go chant and pray: — Well hast thou spoke, my dark-brow'd friend; Halloo, hallool and, hark awayl" The Wildgrave spurr'd his courser light, O'er-moss and moor, o'er holt and hill; And on the left, and on the right, Each Stranger Horseman follow'd still. Up springs, from yonder tangl'd thorn, A stag more white than mountain snow; And louder rung the Wildgrave's horn,' Hark forward, forwardl holla, hor' A heedless wretch -has cross'd the way; He gasps, the thund'ring hoofs below;But, live who can, or die who may, Still, "Forward, for ward " on they go. See, where yon simple fences meet, A field with autumn's blessings crown'd; 48*

Page  554 THE WILD HUNTSMEN. See, prostrate at the Wildgrave's feet. A. husbandman, with toil embrown'd: "0 mercy, mercy, noble lord! Spare the poor's pittance," was his cry, Earn'd by the sweat these brows have pour'd. In scorching hour of fierce July."Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads, The left still cheering to the prey; Th' impetuous Earl no warning heeds, But furious holds the onward way. "Away, thou hound! so basely born, Or dread the scourge's echoing blowl"Then loudly rung his bugle horn, "Hark forward, forward, holla, hol" So said, so done:-A single bound Clears the poor labourer's humble pale; Wild follows man, and horse, and hound, Like dark December's stormy gale, And man, and' horse, and hound, and horn, Destructive sweep the field along; While, joying o'er the wasted corn, Fell Famine marks the madd'ning throng. Again up-rous'd the tim'rous prey Scours. moss, and moor, and holt, and hill Hard run, he feels his strength decay, And trusts for life his simple skill. Too dangerous solitude appear'd; lie seeks the shelter of the crowd, Amid the flock's domestic herd His harmless head he hopes to shroud. O'er moss, and moor, and holt, and hill, His track the steady blood-hounds trace, O'er- moss and moor, unwearied still, The furious Earl pursues the cha'e. Full lowly did the herdsman fall; — "O spare, thoen noble Baron, spare Those herds, a widow's little all; These flocks, an orphan's fleecy care." Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads, The lift still cheering to the pre y;

Page  555 THE WILD HUNtSMEN. 5 The Earl nor pray'r nor pity heeds, But furious keeps the onward way. -"Unmanner'd dog! To stop my sport Vain were thy cant and beggar whine, Though human spirits, of thy sort, Were tenants of these carrion kinel" — Again he winds his bugle horn, "Hark forward, forward, holla, hol" And through the herd, in ruthless scorn He cheers his furious hounds to go. In heaps the throttled victims fall; Down sinks their mangl'd herdsman near; The, murd'rous cries the stag appal, — Again he starts, new-nerv'd by fear. With blood besmear'd, and white with foam, While big the tears of anguish pour, He seeks, amid the forest's gloom, The humble hermit's hallow'd bow'r. But man, and horse, and horn, and bound, Fast rattling-on his traces go; The sacred chapel rung around With, "Hark away; and, holla, hol" All mild, amid therout profane, The holy hermit pour'd his pray'r; — "Forbear with blaod God's house to stainRevere his altar, and forbear l "The meanest brute has rights to plead, Which, wronged by cruelty, or pride, lDraw vengeance on the ruthless head: — Be warn'd at length, and turn aside,"' Still the Fair Horseman anxious pleads; The Black, wild whooping, points the proy; — Alas! the Earl no warning heeds, But frantic keeps the forward way. "Holy or not, or right or wrong, Thy altar, and its rites, I spurn; INot sainted martyrs' sacred song, Not God himself, shall make me turnl'" He spurs his horse, he winds his horn, "lHark forward, forward, holla, ho!" — But off, on whirlwind's pinions borne, The stag, the hut, the hermit, go.

Page  556 556 T1E WILD FUETSES., And horse, and minan, and horn, and hound, And clamour of the chase, was gone; For hoofs, and howls, and bugle sound, A deadly silence reign'd alone. Wild gaz'd the affrighted Earl around; He strove in v ain to wake his horn, In vain to call; for not a sound Could from his anxious lips be borne. lie listens for his trusty hounds; No distant baying reach'd his ears: His courser, rooted to the ground, The quick'ning spur unmindful bears Still dark, and darker frown the shades, Dark, as the darkness of the grave; Amd not a sound the still invades, Save what a distant torrent gave, High o'er the sinner's humbl'd head At length the solemn silence broke; And, from a cloud of swarthy red, The awful voice of thunder spoke, "Oppressor of creation fair! Apostate Spirits' harden'd tool! Scorner of God! Scourge of the poorl The measure of thy cup is full. -' Be chas'd for ever through the wood; For ever roam the affrighted.wild; And let thy- fate instruct the proud, God's meanest creature is his child."-'Twas hush'd: One flash, of sombre glare, With yellow ting'd the forests brown; Up rose the Wildgrave's bristling hair, And horror chill'd each nerve and bone. Cold pour'd the sweat in freezing ill; A rising wind began to sing; And louder, louder, louder still, Brought storm and tempest on its wing. Earth heard the call;- her entrails rend; From -yawning rifts, with many a yell, Mix'd with sulphureous flames, ascend The misbegotten dogs of hell What ghastly Huntsman next arose, Well may I gaus, but dare not tell;

Page  557 wAa so8IW. 557 His eye like midnight lightning glows, His steed the swarth y hue of helL The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn, With many a shriek of helpless woe; Behind him hound, and horse, and horn, And, " Hark away, and holla, hot" With wild despair's reverted eye, Close, close behind, he marks the throng, With bloody fangs, and eager cry; In frantic fear he scours along. — Still, still shall last the dreadful chase, Till time itself shall have an end; By day, they scour earth's cavern'd space, At midnight's witching hour, ascend. This is the horn, the hound, and horses. That oft the lated peasant hears; Appall'd, he signs the frequent cross, When the wild din invades his ears,. The wakeful priest oft drops a tear For human pride, for human woe, When at his midnight mass, he hears The infernal cry of, "Holla, hol" WA R SOON'G. ROYAL EDINBURGH LIGHT DRAGOONS Written auring the apprehension oj an invasion To horse! to horse! the standard flies, The bugles sound the call; The Gallic navy stems the seat, The voice of Battle's on the breeze, Arouse ye, one and all! From high Dunedin's tow'rs we come, A band of brothers true; Our casques the leopard's spoils surround, With Scotland's hardy thistle crowa'd; We boast the red and blue,

Page  558 WArt sowN. Though tamely crouch to Gallia's frotn, Dull Holland's tardy train; Their ravish'd toys though Romans mourns Though gallant Switzers vainly spurn, And, foaming, gnaw the chain; 0! had they mark'd th' avenging call Their brethren's murder gave, Disunion ne'er their ranks had mown, Nor patriot valour, desp'rate grown, Sought freedom in the grave Shall we, too, bead the stubborn head, In Freedom's temple born, Dress our pale eheek in timid smile, To hail a master in our isle, Or brook a victor's scorn? Not though destruction o'er the land Come pouring as a flood, The sun, that sees our falling day, Shall mark our sabres' deadly sway, And set that night in blood. For gold let Gallia's legions fight, Or plunder's bloody gain; Unbrib'd, unbought, our swords we draw, To guard our King, to fence our Law, Nor shall their edge be vain, If ever breath of British gale Shall fan the tri-colour, Or footstep of invader rude, With rapine foul, and red with blood, Pollute our happy shore, — Then farewell home! and farewell filendsl Adieu each tender tiel Resolv'd, we mingle in the tide, Where charging squadrons furious ride, To conquer, or to die. To horse! to horse! the sabres gleamn High sounds our bugle call; Combin'd by honour's sacred tie, Our word is, Laws and Libertyl March forward, one and all

Page  559 MORXAN MORSE-SHOI, 559 THE NORMAN HORSE-SHOE. [The Welch, inhabiting a mountainous country, and possessing only an inferior breed of horses, were usually unable to encounter the shock of the Anglo-Nolrmall cavalry. Occasionally, however, they were successful i.I repelling the invaders; and the following verses are sup. posed to celebrate a defeat of Clare, Earl of Striguil and Pembroke, and of Neville, Baron of Chepstow, LordsMarchers of Monmouthshire. Rymny is a stream which divides the counties of Monmouth and Glamorgan: Caere phili, Lhe scene of the supposed battle, is a vale uponl iS banks, dignified by the ruins of a very ancient castle. Ami-The War-song of the Men of Glamorgan. RED glows the forge inStriguil's bounds, And hammers din, and anvil sounds, And armourers, with iron toil, Barb many a steed for battle's broil. Foul fall the hand which bends the steel Around the courser's thund'ring heel, That e'er shall dint a sable wound On fair Glamorgan's velvet groundl IT; From Chepstow's tow'rs, ere dawn of morn, Was heard afar the bugle horn; And forth, in banded pomp and pride, Stout Clare and fiery Neville ride. They swore, their banners broad should gleam, In crimson light, on Rymny's stream; They vow'd, Caerphili's sod should feel The Norman charger's spurning heel. Ill. And sooth they swore-the sun arose, And Rymny's wave with crimson glows; For Clare's red banner, floating wide, Roll'd down the stream to Severn's tidel And sooth they vow'd-the trampled green Show'd where hot Neville's charge had been: In every sable hoof-tramp stood A Norman horseman's curdling bloodl

Page  560 ~60 "l'u DYING BuAkt IV,. Old Chepstowfs brides may curse the toil, That arm'd stout Clare for Cambrian broil; Theirorphans long the art may rue, For Neville's war-horse forg'd the shoe. No more the stamp of armed steed Shall dint Glamorgan's velvet mead; Nor trace be there, in early spring, Save of th4 Fairies' emerald ring. THE. DYING BARD. [The Welch tradition bears, that a Bard, on his death. bed, demanded his harp, and played the air to which these verses are adapted; requesting, that it might be performed at his funeraL] A. R —Daffydz Gangwen. L Dinas Emlinn, lament; for the moment is nigh, When mute in the woodlandsthine echoes shall die: No more by sweet Teivi Cadwallon shall rave, And mix his wild notes with the wild dashing wave. IL In spring and in autumn thy glories of shade. Unhonour'd shall flourish, unhonour'd shall fade; For soon shall be lifeless the eye and the tongue, That view'd them with rapture, with rapture that sung. IIL Thy sons, Dinas Emlinn, may march in their pride, And chase the proud Saxon from Prestatyn's side; But where is the harp shall give life to their name? And where is the bard shall give heroes their fame? IV. And Oh, Dinas Emlinn! thy daughters so fair, Who heave the white bosom, and' wave the dark hair; What tuneful enthusiast shall worship their eye, When half of their charms with Cadwallon shall die? Then adieu, silver Teivi! I quit thy lov'd scene, To join the dim choir of the bards who have been;

Page  561 THIE MAD OF TORO. With Lewarch, and Meilor, and Merlin the Old, And sage Taliessin, high harping to hold. VI. And adieu, Dinas Emlinnl still green be thy shades, Unconquer'd thy warriors, and matchless thy maids! And thou, whose faint warblings my weakness can tell, Farewell, my lov'd Harpl my last treasure, farewell! THE MAID OF TORO. O,. low shone the sun on the fair lake of Toro, And weak were the whispers that wav'd the dark wood, All as a fair maiden, bewilder'd in sorrow, Sorely sigh'd to the breezes, and wept to the flood. "0, saints! from the mansions of bliss lowly bending; Sweet Virgin! who hearest the suppliant's cry; Now grant my petition, in anguish ascending, My Henry restore, or let Eleanor die!" All distant and faint were the sounds of the battle, With the breezes they rise, with the breezes they fail, Till the shout, and the groan, and the conflict's dread'iattle, And the chase's wild clamour, came loading the gale, Breathless she gaz'd on the woodlands so dreary; Slowly approaching a warrior was seen; Life's ebbing tide mark'd his footsteps so weary, Cleft was his helmet, and woe was his mien. O, save thee, fair maid, for oVr armies are flying! O, save thee, fair maid, for thy guardian is lowl Deadly cold on yon heath/thy br.o"3 Henry is lying; And fast through the woodland approaches the foe."Scarce could he falter the tidings of sorrow, And scarce could she hear them, benumb'd with despair: And when the sun sunk on the sweet lake of Toro, For ever he set to the Brave, and the Fair. HELLVELLYN. [In the spring of 1805, a young gentleman oftalents, and of a most amiable disposition, perished by losing his way on the mountain Hellvellyn. His remains were not discovered titU three months afterwards, when they were found 49

Page  562 562 BHELLVELLYN. guarded by a faithful terrier-bitch, his constant attendant during frequent solitary rambles through the wilds of Cumberland and Westmorland.] I CLIMB'D the dark brow of the mighty Hellvellyn, Lakes and mountains beneath me gleam'd misty and wide; All was still, save, by fits, when the eagle was yelling, And starting around me the echoes replied. On the right, Striden-edge round the Red-tarn was bending, And Catchedicam its left verge was defending, One huge nameless rock in the front was ascending, When I mark'd the sad spot where the wand'rer had died. Dark green was that spot mid the brown mountainheather, Where the Pilgrim of Nature lay stretch'd in decay, Like the corpse of an outcast abandon'd to weather, Till the mountain-winds wasted the tenantless clay, Nor yet quite deserted, though lonely extended, For, faithful in death, his mute fav'rite attended, The much-lov'd remains of her master defended, And chas'd the hill-fox and the raven away. How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber; When the wind wav'd his garment, how oft didst thou start; ]How many long days and long weeks didst thou number, Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart? And, Oh! was it meet, that,-no requiem read o'er him, No mother to weep, and. no friend to deplore him, And thou, little guardie, alone stretch'd before him,Unhonour'd the Pilgrim from life should depart? When a Prince to the fate of the Peasant has yielded, The tap'stry waves dark round the dim-lighted hall; With scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded, And pages stand mute by the canopied pall: Through the courts, at deep midnight, the torches are gleaming; In the proudly arch'd chapel the banners are beaming; Far adown the long aisle sacred music is streaming, Lamenting a Chief of the People should fall. But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature, To lay down thy head like the meek mountain lamri._

Page  563 HELLVEULLY. 56X When, wilder'd, he drops from some cliff huge In stature And draws his last sob by the side of his dam. And more stately thy couch by this desert lake lying, Thy obsequies sung by the grey plover flying, With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying, In the arms of Hellvellyn and Catchedicam,

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Page  [unnumbered] jotte to Zap of the La nt RlUiitrl. CANTO FIRST. NOTE I. The feast was over in Branksome tower. In the reign of James I. Sir William Scott, of Buccleuch, chief of the clan bearing that name, exchanged with Sir Thomas Inglis of Manor, the estate of Murdiestone in Lanarkshire, for one-half of the barony of Branksome or Branxholm, lying upon the Teviot, about three miles above Hawick. He was probably induced to this transaction from the vicinity of Branksome to the extensive domain which he possessed in Et. tricke Forest and in Teviotdale. In the former district he held by occu. pancy the estate of Buccleuch, and much of the forest land on the river Ettricke. In Teviotdale, he held the barony of Eckford, by a grant from Robert II. to his ancestor, Walter Scott, of Kirkurd, for the apprehending of Gilbert Ridderford, confirmed by Robert III., 3rd May, 1424. Tradition imputes the exchange betwixt Scott and Inglis to a conversation, in which the latter, a man, it would appear, of a mild and forbearing nature, complained much of the injuries which he was exposed to from the English borderers, who frequently plundered his lands of Branksome. Sir'lilliam Scott instantly offered him the estate of Murdiestone, in exchange for that which was subject to such egregious inconvenience. When the bargain was completed, he drily remarked, that the cattle in Cumberland were as good as those of Teviotdale, and proceeded to commence a system of reprisals upon the English, which was regularly pursued by his successors. NOTE Il. Nine and twenty knights of fame Hung their shields in Branksome Hall. The ancient Barons of Buccleuch, both from feudal splendour, and from their frontier situation, retained in their household, at Branksome, a num. her of gentlemen of their own name, who held lands from their chief for the military service of watching and warding his castle. NOTE Ill. And with Jedwood-axe at saddle-bow. "Of a truth,b' says Froissart, "The Scottish cannot boast great skill with the bow, but rather bear axes, with which, in, time of need, they give heavy strokes." NOTE IV. They watch against Southern force and guile, Lest Scroop or Howard, or Percy's powers, Threaten Branksome's lordly towers, From Warkworth, or Naworth, or merry Carlisle. Branksome Castle was continually exposed to the attacks of the English, both from its situation and the restless military disposition of its inhabi. tants, who were seldom on good terms with their neighbours. NOTE V. While Cessford owns the rule of Car. The family of Ker, Kerr, or Car, was very powerful on the Border. NOTE VI. His form no darkening shadow traced Upon the sunny wall I The shadow of a necromancer was independent of the sun. Glyeas in. forns us that Simon Magus caused his shadow to go before him, making pe)tle betieve it was an attendant spirit. NOTE VII. By wily turns, by desperate bounds, Had baffled Percyv's best blood-bounds, The Kings and heroes of Scotlard, as well as the Border-riders were

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. sometimes obliged to study how to avoid the pursuit of blood-hounds, Barbour informs us that Robert Bruce was repeatedly tracked by sleuth. dogs. A sure way of stopping the dog was to spill blood upon the track, Henry the Minstrel tells a story of Wallace, founded on this circumstance. The hero's little band had been joined by an Irishman, named Fawdon, or Fadzeen, a dark, savage, and suspicious character. After a sharp skir. mish at Black-Erne Side, Wallace was forced to retreat.with only sixteen followers.; The English pursued with a border sleuth-bratch, or blood. hound. In the retreat, Fawdon, tired, or affecting to be so, would go no forther. Wallace, having in vain argued with him, in hasty anger struck off his head, and continued the retreat. When the English came up, their hound stayed upon the dead body. "The slouth stopped at Fawdoun,s;ill she stood, Nor farther would fra time she fund the blood. otte to Kap of the LEa Mth *1intrel. CANTO SECOND. NOTE I. St. David's.ruined pile.. David the First, of Scotland. purchased the reputation of sanctity by founding, and liberally endowing, not only the monastery of lielrose, but those of Kelso, Jedburgh, and many others, which led to the well-known observation of his successor, "That he was a sore saint for the crown." NOTE II. Beneath their feet were the bones of the dead. The cloisters were frequently used as places of sepulchre. An instance occurs in Dryburgh Abbey, where the cloister has an inscription bearing, Hlicjacetfrater Archibaldus. NOTE III. - Thy low and lonely urn, Oh! gallant chief of Otterburn. The famous and desperate battle of Otterburne was fought 15th August, 1358, betwixt Henry Percy, called Hotspur. and James Earl of Douglas. Both these renowned champions were at the head of a chosen body of troops, and were rivals in military fame. The issue of the, conflict is well kc;own: Percy was made prisoner, and the Scots won the day, dearly pur. chased by the death of their gallant general, the Earl of Douglas, who was slain in the action. He was buried at 1Melrose, beneath the high altar. NOTE IV. Dark knight of Liddesdale. William Douglas, called the knight of Liddesdale, flourished during the reign of David II., and was so distinguished by his valour, that he vwas called the Flower of Chivalry. Nevertheless, he tarnished his renown by the cruel murder of Sir Alexander Ramsav of Dalhousie, originally his friend and brother in arms. The king had conferred upon Ramsay the sheriffdom of Teviotdale, to which Douglas pretended some claim. In revenge of this preference, the knight of Liddesdale came down upon Ramsay, while he was administering justice at Hawick, seized, and carried him off to his remote and inaccessible castle of Hermitage, where he threw his unfortunate prisoner, horse and man, into a dungeon, and left him to perish of hunrer. It is said the miserable captive prolonged his existence for several days by the corn which fell from a granary above the vault in which he was confined. So weak was the royal authority, that David, though highly incensed at this atrocious murder, found him.

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO THIRD, self obliged to appoint the knight of Liddesdale successor to his victim, as sheriff of Teviotdale. But he was soon after slain; while hunting in Ettricke Forest, by his own godson and chieftain, William Earl of Douglas, in revenge. NOTE V. The sords that cleft Eildon hills in three, And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone. Michael Scott was much embarrassed by a spirit, for whom he was under the necessity of finding constant employment. He commanded him to build a dam-head across the Tweed; it was accomplished in one night. Michael next ordered that Eildon-hill, then a uniform cone, should be divided into three.'Another night was sufficient to part its summit into the three picturesque peaks which it now bears. At length the enchanter conquered this indefatigable daemon, by employing him ina the hopeless and endless task of making ropes out of sea-sand. NOTE VI. The baron's dwarf his courser held. The idea of Lord Cranstoun's Goblin Page is taken from a being called Gilpin Horner, who appeared, and made some stay, at a farm-house among the Border-mountains. Adote0 to -tap of Otr Latt 0iathtrd. CANTO THIRD. NOTE I. It had much of glamour might. Glemotr, in the legends of Scottish superstitions, pneans the magic power of imposing on the eye-sight of spectators, so thas the appearance ot an object shall be totally different from the reality. To such a charm the ballad of Johnie Fa' imputes the fascination of the lovely Countess, who eloped with that gipsy leader. NOTE II. Sae soon as they saw her weel fa'rd face, They cast the glamour o'er her. The art of glamour, or other fascination, was anciently a principal part of the skill of the j.ongleur, or juggler, whose tricks formed much of the amusement of a Gothic castle. NOTE III. The running stream dissolved the spell. It is a firm article of popular faith, that no enchantment can subsist in a living stream. Nay, if you can interpose a brook betwixt you and witches, spectres, or even fiends, you are in perfect safety. Burns's inimitabie 7amn o' Shanter turns entirely upon such a circumstance. NOTE IV. He never counted him a man,, Would strike below the knee. To wound an antagonist in the thigh or leg was reckoned contrary to the law of arms. In a tilt' betwixt Gawain Blichael, an English squire, and Joachim Cathore, a Frenchman, " they met at the speare poyntes rudely; the French squyer justed right plesantly; the Englyshman ran too lowe, for he strake the'Frenchman depe into the thygh. Whetwvith the Erle of Buckingham was ryght sore displeased, and so were all the otherlordes, and sayde how it was shamefully rone.' NOTE V. On Penchryst glows a bale of fire, And three are kindling on Priesthaughsswire. I The border beacons, from their number and position, formed a sort of telegraphic communication with Edinburgh. The act of parliament

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH,. 145.i, c. 48, directs that one bale or faggot shall be warning of the approach of the English in any manner; two bales, that they are coming indeed; four bales, blazing beside each other, that the enemy are in great force. Aoted to -ap of trie La.t *f.tftrLed CANTO FOURTH. NOTE I. Great Dundee. The viscount of Dundee, slain in the battle of Killycrankie, NOTE II. For pathless marsh and mountain cell, The peasant left his lowly shed. The morasses were the usual refuge of the Border herdsmen, on the approach of an English army. Caves, hewed in the most dangerous and inaccessible places, also afforded an occasional retreat. Such caverns may be seen in the precipitous banks of the Teviot at Sunlaws and Ancram, upon the Jed at Hundalee, and in many other places upon the Border, The banks of the Eske, at Gorton and Hawthornden, are hollowed into similar recesses. NOTE III. Wat Tinlinn. This person was, in my younger days, the theme of many a fireside tale. He was a retainer of the Buccleuch family, and held for his border service a small tower on the frontiers of Liddesdale. Wat was by profes. sion a sutor, but, by inclination and practice an archer and warrior. Upon one occasion, the Captain of Bewcastle, military governor of that wild district of Cumberland, is said to have made an incursion into Scotland, in which he was defeated and forced to fly. Wat Tinlin pursued him closely through a dangerous morass: the captain, however, gained the firm ground; and seeing Tinlin, dismounted and floundering in the bog, used these words of insult: Sutor Wat, ye cannot sew your boots; the heels risp,(1) and the seams rive."(2) " If I cannot sew," retorted Tinlinn, discharging a shaft which nailed the captain's thigh to his saddle, "If I cannot sew, I can yerk.(3)" NOTE IV, Of silver broach and bracelet proud. As the Borderers were indifferent about the furniture of their habita. tions, so much exposed to be burned and plundered, they were propor. tionally anxious to display splendour in decorating and ornamenting their females. NOTE V. Belted Will Howard. Lord William Howard, third son of Thomas, Duke of Norfolk. By a poetical anachronism,he is introduced into the romance a few yearsearlier than he actually flourished. He was Warden of the Western Marches; and, from the rigour with which he repressed the Border excesses, the mune of Belted Will Howard is still famous in our traditions. NOTE VI. Lord Dacre. The well-known name of Dacre is derived from the exploits of one of their ancestors at the siege of Acre or Ptolemais, under Richard Ceur de Lion. There were two powerful branches of that name. (l)Creak. (2)Tear. i?) To twitch as shoemakers do, in securing the stitches of their work.

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH NOTE VII. The German hagbut-men. At thebattle of Pinky there were in the English army sit hundred hack.butters on foot, and two hundred on horseback, composed chiefly of foreigners. INOTE VIII. Knighthood he took of Douglas' sword. The dignity of Knighthood, according to the original institution, had this peculiarity, that it did not flow from the monarch, but could be conferred by one who himself possessed it, upon any Equire who, after due probation, was found to merit the honour of chivalry. iotes to RLap of the Watt 4linstrel. CANTO FIFTH. NOTE I. The Bloody Heart b:azed in the van, Announcing Douglas' dreaded namel The chief of this potent race of heroes, about the date of the poem, was Archibald Douglas, seventh Earl of Angus, a man of great courage and activity. The bloody heart was the well known cognisance of the house of Douglas, assumed from the time of Good Lord James, to whose care Robert Bruce committed his heart, to be carried to the Holy Land. NOTE II. The Seven Spears of Wedderburn. Sir David Home of Wedderburn, who was slain in the fatal battle of Flodden, left seven sons. They were called the seven spears of Wedder. burn. NOTE III. Beneath the crest of old Dunbar, And Hepburn's mingled banners, come, Down the steep mountain glitter far, And shouting still, " a Home! a Home!" The Earls of Home, as descendants of the Dunbars, ancient Earls of lMarch, carried a lion rampant, argent. The slogan, or war-cry, of this powerful family was, " a Home I a Home I" The Hepburns, a powerful family in East Lothian, were usually in close alliance with the Homes. NOTE IV.'Twixt truce and war such sudden change Was not unfrequent, nor held strange, In the old Border day. Notwithstanding the constant wars upon the Borders, the inhabitants on either side do not appear to have regarded each other with personal animosity. On the contrary, they often carried on something resembling fiendly intercourse: and it is evideht, from various ordinances against trade and intermarriages between English and Scottish Borderers, that' the governments of both countries were jealous of their cherishing too ihi timate a connection. NOTE V. Cheer the dark blood-hound on his way, And with the bugle rouse the fray. The pursuit of border marauders was followed by the injured party and his friends with blood-hounds and bugle horn, and was called the hao trod. He was entitled, if his dog could trace the scent, to follow the in. vaders into the opposite kingdom, a privilege which often occasioned blood-shed.

Page  [unnumbered] gotte to tap of tThe Watt Mi4Uutredo CANTO SIXr.. NOTE I. She wrought not by forbidden spell. Popular belief, though contrary to the doctrines of the churth, made a favourable distinction betwixt magicians, and necromancers or wizards; the former were supposed to command evil spirits, and the latter to serve, or at least to be in league and compact with those enemies of mankind. The arts of subjecting the daemons were manifold; sometimes the fiends were actually swindled by the magicians. NOTE II. A merlin sat upon her wrist. A merlin, or.sparrow-hawk, was usually ladies of rank, as a falcon was, in time of peace, the constant attendant of a knight or baron. NOTE IlI. And princely peacock's gilded train. The peacock, it is well known, was considered, duringthe times o chivalry, not merely as an exquisite delicacy, but as a dish of peculiar so. lemnity. After being roasted, it was again decorated with its plumage, and a sponge, dipt in lighted spirits of wine, was placed in its bill. When it was introduced on days of grand festival, it was the signal for the ad. venturous knights. to take upon them vows to do some deed of chivalry, "before the peacQck and the ladies." NOTE IV. And o'er the boar-head, garnished brave. The boar's head was also a usual dish of feudal splendour. In Scotland It was sometimes surrounded with little banners, displaying the colours and achievements of the baron at whose board it was served. NOTE V. Smote with his gauntlet, stout Hunthill. The Rutherfords of Hunthill were an ancient race of Border lairds, whose names occur in history, sometimes as defending the frontier against the English, sometimes as disturbing the peace of the conntry. Dickon Draw-the-sword was son to the ancient warrior, called, in tradition, the Cock of Hunthill. NOTE VI..-.. old Albert Greeme, The minstrel of that ancient name. "'John Grahame, second son of Malice Earl of Monteith, commrnonly surnamed' John with the Bright Sword,' upon some displeasure risen against him at court, retired with many of his clan and kindred into the English Borders in the reign of king Henry the Fourth, where they seated themselves; and many of their posterity have continued there ever since." NOTE VII. And he a solemn sacred plight Did to St. Bryde of Douglas make. This was a favourite saint of the house of Douglas; and of the Earl of Angus in particular; as we learn form the following passage. The Queen. regent had proposed to raise a rival nob e to the ducal dignity; and dis. coursing of her purpose with Angus,. he answered, " Why not, madam? we are happy that we have such a princess, that can know and will aae knowledge men's service, and is willing to recompence it. But, by the might of God (this was his oath when he was serious. and in anger; at other times it was by Saint Bryde of Douglas), if he be a Duke, I will be a Drake." So she desisted from prosecuting ofthat purpowe.-.Godesoroft

Page  [unnumbered] otte to nfarmiom.f CANTO FIRST. NOTE.I. As when the Champion of the Lake Enters Morgana's fated house, Or in the Chapel Perilous, Despising spells and demons' force, Holds converse with the unburied corse. The Romance of the Morte Arthur contains a sort of abridgment of the most celebrated adventures of the Round Table. It has the merit of being written in pure old English, and many of the wild adventures which it contains, are told with a simplicity bordering on the sublime. As this curious work is about to be republished, I confine myself to the tale of th6 Chapel Perilous, and of the quest of Sir Launcelot after the Sangreall. " Right so Sir Launcelot departed; and when he came to the Chapell Perilous he alighted downe, and tied his horse to a little gate. And as soon as he was within the church-yard, hee saw, on the front of the chapell, many faire rich shields turned upside downe, and many of the shields, Sir Laun. celot had seene knights have before; with that hee saw stand by him thirtie great knights, more, by a yard, than any man that ever bhee had seene, and, all those grinned and gnashed at Sir Launcelot; and when he saw their countenance he dread them sore, and so put his shield afore him, and tooke his sword in his hand, ready to doe battaile; and they were all armed in black harneis, ready with their shields and swords drawen. And when Sir Launcelot Would have gone through them, they scattered on every side of. him and gave him the way, and therewith bhee waxed all bold, and entered into the chapell, and then hee saw no light but a dim lamp burning, and then was he ware of a corps covered with a cloath of silke; then Sir Launcelot stooped down, and cut a peece of that cloth away, and then it fared under him as the earth had quaked a little, whereof he was afeard, and then hee saw afaire sword lye bythe dead knight, and that he gat in his hand, and hied him out of the chappell. As soon i as he was in the chappell-yerd, all the knights spoke to him with a grimly voice, and said,' Knight Sir Launcelot, lay that sword from thee, or else thou shalt die.?' V hether I live or die,' said Sir Launcelot,'with no great words it againe, therefore fight for it and yee list.' i Therewith he passed through them; and beyond the chappell-yard there met him a fair damosell, and said,'Sir Launcelot, leave that sword be. hind thee, or thou wilt die for it.'' I will -not leave it,' said Sir Launcelot, for no threats.'' No,' said she,'and ye did leave that sword, Queene Guenever should ye never see.'' Then were I a foole and I would leave this sword,' said Sir Launcelot.' Now, gentle knight.' said the damosell,'I require thee to kisse me once more,''Nay,' said Sir Launcelot,'that God forbid!'' Well, sir,' said she,' and thou haddest kissed me, thy life days had been done; but now, alasl' said she,' I have lost all m labour; for I ordeined this chappell for thy sake, and for Sir Gawainet and once I had Sir Gawaine within it; and at that time he fought with that knight which there lieth dead in yonderchappell, Sir Gilbertthe bastard, and at that time' hee smote off Sir Gilbert the bastard's left hand. And so, Sir Launcelot, now I tell thee, that I have loved thee this seven yeare; but there may no woman have thy love but Queene Guenever; but sithen I may not rejoice to have thy body alive, I had' kept no more joy in this world but to have thy dead body; and I would have balmed it and served, and so have kept it my life dales, and daily I should have clipped thee, and kissed thee in the despite of Queene Guenever.'' Ye say well;' said Sir Launcelot,'Jesus preserve me from your subtill crafts i' And therewith he took his'horse and departed from her." 60. M)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO FTRST' NOTE II. A sinful man and unconfessed, He took the Sangreal's holy quest, And slumbering, saw the vision high, He might not view with waking eve. One day when Arthur was holding a high feast with the Knights of the Round Table, the Sanlgreall, or vessel out of which the last passover was eaten, which had long remained concealed, suddenly appeared to him. The consequence of this vision was, that all the knights tookon them a solemn vow to seek the Sangreal!. But, alas! it could only be revealed to a knight, at once accomplished in earthly chivalry, and pure and guilt. less of evil conversation. All Sir Launcelot's noble accomplishments were therefore rendered vain by his guilty intrigue with Queen Guenever, or Ganore; and in this holy quest he encountered only such disgraceful disasters as that which follows: — "But Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wild forest, and held no path, but as wild adventure led him; and at the last he came unto a stone crosse, which departed two wayes, in wast land; and by the rosse was a ston that was of marble; but it was so darke, that Sir Launce. lot might not well know what it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by him and saw an old chappell, and there he wend to have found people. And so Sir Launcelot tied his horse to a tree, and there hee put off his shield and hung it upon a tree, and then he went unto the chappell doore, and found it wasted and broken. Anld wits in he found a faire alter full richly arrayed with cloth of silk, and there stood a faire candlestick1 which beare six great candels, and the candlesticke was of silver. And when Sir Launcelot saw this light, hee had a great will to enter into the chappell, but hee could find no place where hee might enter. Then was he passing heavie and dismaied. Then hee returned and came againe to his horse, and took off his saddle and his bridle, and let him pasture, and unlaced his helme, and ungirdea his sword, and laid him down to sleepe upon his shield besore the crosse. "And so hee fell on sleepe, and half waking and half sleeping, hee saw come by him two palfreyes, both fabe and white, the which beare a litter, therein lying, a sicke knight. And when he was nigh the crosse, he there abode still. All this Sir Launcelot saw and beheld, for hee slept notverily, and bee heard him say, -' Oh sweete Lord, when shall' this sorrow leave me, and when shall the holy vessel come by me, where through I shall be blessed, for I have endured thus long, for little trespasse.' And thus a great while complained the knight, and alwaies Sir Launcelot heard it. With that Sir Launcelot saw the candlesticke with the firs tapers come before the crosse; but he could see no body that brought it. Also there came a table of silver. and the holy vessell of the Sancgreall, the which Sir Launcelot had seene before that time in King Petchour's house. And therewithall the sicke knight set himself upright, and held up both his hands, and said.' Fair sweete Lord, which is here within the holy vessell, take heed to mee, that I may be hole of this great ma'ady.' And there, with upon his hands and upon his knees, he went so nigh that he touched the holy vessell, and kissed it; and anon he was hole, and then he said,'Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed of this malady.' Soo when the holy vessell had been there a great while, it went into the chapl ell againe with the candlesticke and the light, so that Sir Launcelot wist not where it became, for he wasovertaken of sinne, thathee had no power t o rise i up against the holy vessell, wherefore afterward many men saidof him shame. But he tooke repentance afterward. Then the sicke knight dressed him. upright and kissed the crosse. Then anon his squire brought him his armes, and asked his lord how he did.' Certainly,' said hee,' I thanke God heartily, for through the holy vessell I am healed: but I have right great mnervalle of this sleeping knight, which hath had neither grace nor power to awake during the time that this holy vessell hath been here preprint''I dare it right well say,' said the squire,'that this same knight'k defouled with some manner of deadly sinne, whereof he was never con.

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO FIRST fessed.''By my faith,' said the knight,'whatsoever he be, he is un. happie; for as I deeme hee is of the fellowship of the Round Table, the which is entered into the quest of. the Sancgreall.' Sir,' said the squire, c'here have I brought you all your armes, save yourhelme and your sword, and therefore, by mine arsent, now may ye take this knight's helme and his sword,' and so he did. And when he was cleane armed, he tooke Sir Launcelot's horse, for he was better than his owne, and so they departed from the crosse.';Then anon Sir Launcelot awaked, and set himselfe up right, and he thought him what hee had there seene, and whether it were dreames or not, right sohe heard a voice that said,' Sir Launcelot, more hardy then is the stone, and more bitter then is the wood, and more naked and bare then is the liefe of the fig-tree, therefore go thou from hence, and with. draw thee from this holy place.' And when Sir Launcelot heard this, hee was passing heavy, and wit not what to doe. And so he departed sore weeping, and cursed the time that he was borne; for then he deemed never to have had more worship; for the words went unto his heart till that he knew wherefore that hee was so called." NOTE III. And Dryden, in immortal strain, Had raised the Table Round again, But that a ribald king and court Bade him toil on, to make them sport; Demanded for their niggard pay, Fit for their souls, a looser lay, Licentious satire, song, and play. DrSden's melancholy account of his projected Epic Poem, blasted by the selfish and sordid parsimony of his patrons, is contained in an " Essay on Satire," addressed to the Earl of Dorset, and prefixed to the Trans. lation of Juvenal. NOTE IV. Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold. Ascapaxt, a most important personage in the "History of Bevis of Hampton," is thus described in an extract.This geaunt was mighty and strong, And full thirty foot was long. He was bristled like a sow; A foot he had between each brow His lips were great and hung aside; His eyen were hollow, his mouth was widej Lothly he was to look on than, And liker a devil than a man,'His staff was a young oak, Hard and heavy was his stroke. Specimens of Metrical Ronmances, Vol. IL. p. 1L6. NOTE V. Day set on Norham's castled steep, And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep. The ruinous castle of Norham (Anciently called Ubbanford) is situated on the southe n bank of the Tweed, about six miles above Berwick, and where that river is still the boundary between England and Scotland. The extent of its ruins as well as its historical importance, shew it to have been a place of magnificence, as well as strength. Edward I. resided there when he was created umpire of the dispute concerning the Scottish succession. It was repeateoly taken and retaken during the wars be. tween England and Scotland; and, indeed, scarce any happened, in which it had not a trincil)al share. Norham Castle is situated on a steep bank which overhangs the river. The repeated sieges which the castle had sustained, rendered frequent retlairs necessary. In 1164 it was al. most rebuilded by Hugh Pudsey, Bishop of Durham, who, added a lhuge keep or donjon; notwithstanding which, King Henry II., in 1174, took lhie castle from the bishop, and committed the keeping of it to William

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. de Thevulle. After this period it seems to have been chiefly garrisoned by the ktsg and considered a royal fortress. The Greys of Chillinghame Castle were frequently the castellans, or captains of the garrison; yet, as the castle was situated in the patrimony of St. Cuthbert, the property was in the see of Durham till the reformation. According to Mr. Pinkerton, there is in the British Msuseum, Cal. B. 6. 216, a Curious memoir of the Dacres on the state of Norham Castle in 122, sot long after the battle of Flodden. The.inner ward or keep is re. presented as impregnable; " The provisions are three great vats of salt eels, forty-four kine, three hogsheads of salted salmon, forty quarters of grain, besides many cows, and four hundred sheep lying under the castle wall nightly; but a number of the arrows wanted feathers, and a good Fletcher (i. e. maker of arrows) was required."-History of Scotland, Vol. II. p. 201, Note. The ruins of the castle are at present considerable, as well as pictturesque. They consist of a large shattered tower, with many vaults and fragments of other edifices, inclosed within an outward wall of great circuit. NOTE VI. The donjon keep. It is perhaps unnecessary to remind my readers, that the do*jon, in its proper signification, means the strongest part of a feudal castle; a high square tower, with walls of tremendous thickness, situated in the centre of the other buildings, from which, however, it was usually detached. NOrTE VII. Well was he armed from head to heel, In mail and plate of Milan steel. The artists of Milan were famous in the middle ages for their skill in armoury, as appears from the following passage, in which Froissart gives an accountof the preparations made by Henry, Earl *.f Hereford, afterwards Henry IV., and Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marischal, for their proposed combat, in the lists at Coventry: "These two'Lords made ample provision of all things necessary for the combat; and the Earl of Derby sent off Messengers to Lombardy, to have armour from Sir Galeas, Duke of Milan. The duke complied with joy, and gave the knight, called Sir Francis, who had brought the message, the choice of all his armour for the Earl of Derby. When he had selected what he wished for in plated and mail armour, the lord of Milan, out of his abundant love for the Earl, ordered four of the best armourers in Milan to accompany the knight to England, that the Earl of Derby might be more completely armed."Joisas' Fgoissart, Vol. IV. p. 597. NOTE VIII. The golden legend bore aright, WHO CHECKS AT ME, TO DEATH Is DIOHT. The crest and motto of -Marmion are borrowed from the following story. Sir David de Lindsay, first Earl of Crauford, was, according to my authority, Bower, not only excelling in wisdom, but also of a lively wit. Chancing to be at the court of London, about 1390, he there saw Sir Piers Courtenay, an English knight, famous for skill in tilting, and for the beauty of his person, parading the palace, arrayed in a new mantle, bearing for device an embroidered falcon, with this rhyme:I bear a falcon, fairest of flight, Who so pinches at her, his death is dight, (1) In graith. (2) The Scottish knight being a wag, appeared next day in a dress exactly similar to that of Courtenay, but bearing a magpie, instead of the falcon, with a motto ingeniously contrived to rhyme to the vaunting inscription of Sir Piers s I bear a pie picking at a piece, Who so picks at her, I shall pick at his nese, 3) In faith. (i) Prepared. (2) Armour. (3) Nose.

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO F IRST. This affront could only be expiated by a just with sharp lances. In tis course, Lindsay left his helmet unlaced. so that it gave way at the touch of his antagonist's lance, and he thus avoided the shock of the encounter. This happened twice: —in the third encounter, the handsome Courtenav lost two of his front teeth. As the Englishman complained bitterly of Lindsay's fraud in not fastening his helmet. the Scottishman agreed to run six courses more, each champion staking in the hand of the king two hundred pounds to be forfeited, if, on entering the lists, any unequal ad. vantage should be detected. This being agreed to, the wily Scot de. manded, that Sir Piers, in addition to the lossof his teeth, should consent to the extinction of one of his eyes, he himself having lost an eye in the fight of Otterburn. As Courtenay demurr'd to this equalization of optical powers, Lindsay demanded the forfeit: which, after much altercation, the king appointed to' be paid to him, saying, ha surpassed the English both in wit and valour. This must appear to the reader a singular specimen of the humour of that time. I suspect the Jockey Club would have given a different decision from Henry IV. NOTE IX. Largesse, largesse. This was the cry with which heralds and pursuivants were wont to C.e knowledge the bounty received from the knights. They hailed Lord Marmion:L They hailed him Lord of Fontenaye, Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye, Of Tamworth tower and town. Lord Marmion, the principal character of the present romance, is entirely a fictitious personage. In earlier times, indeed, the family of Marmion, lords of Fontenay, in Normandy,washighly distinguished. Robert de Marmion, Lord of Fontenay, a distinguished follower of the Conqueror, obtained a grant of the castle and town of Tamworth, and also of the manor of Scrivelby, in Lincolnshire. One or both of these noble possessions was held by the honourable service of being the royal champion, as the ancestors of Marmion had formerly been to the Dukes of Normandy. But after the castle and dlemesne of Tamworth had passed through four successive barons from Robert, the family became extinct in the person of Philip de Marmion, who died in 20th Edward I., without issue male. He was succeeded in his Castle of Tamworth by Alexander de Frevil, who married Mazera, his grand-daughter. Baldwin de Freville, Alexander's descendant. in the reign of Richard I., by the sup. posed tenure of his castle of Tamworth, claimed the office of royal chamin. pion, and to do the service appertaining; namely, on the day of coronation, to ride completely armed, upon a barbed horse, into Westminster Hall, and there to challenge the combat against any who would gainsay the king's title. But this office was adjudged to Sir John Dymoke, to whom the manor of Scrive'by had descended by another of the co-heiresses Y of Robert de Marmion; and it remains in that family, whose representas. tive is Hereditary Champion of England at the present day. The family and possessions of Freville have merged in the Earls of Ferras; I have not, therefore, created a new family, but only revived the titles of an old one in an imaginary personage. It was one of the Martmion family, who, in the reign of Edward II., pert formed that chivalrous feat before the very castle of Norham, which Bishop Percy has woven into his beautiful ballad, " The Hermit of Warkworth." The story is thus to:d by Leland: "The Scottes calme yn to the marches of England, and destroyed the Castles of Werk and Herbotel, and overran much of Northumberland marches. "At this tyme Sir Thomas Gray and his friendes defended Norham from the Scottes. " It were a wonderfull processe to declare what mischiefs cam by bungre and asseges by the space of xi yeres ia Northumbvelpad; for b0 i

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO FIRST, the Scottes became so proud after they had got Berwick, that they nothing esteemed the Englishmen. "About this tyme there was a greate feste made in Lincolnshir, to which came many gentilmen and ladies; and amonge them one lady brought a heaulme for a man of were, with a very riche creste.of gold, to William Marmion, knight, with a letter of commandment of her lady, that he should go into the daungerest place in England, and ther to let the heaulme be seene andknown as famous. So he went to Norham; whither withyn 4 days of cumming cam Philip Moubray, guardian of Berwicke, having yn his bande 40 men of armes, the very flour of men of the Scottish marches. "Thomas Gray, capitayne of Norham, seynge this, brought his. garison afore the barriers of the castel, behind whom cam William, richly arrayed, as al glittering in gold, and wearing the heaulme, his lady's present. "Then. said Thomas Gray to Marmion,'Sir knight, ye be cum hither, to fame your helmet: mount up on yor horse, and ryde like a valiant man to yowr foes, even here at hand, and I forsake God if I rescue not thy body dead or alyve, or I myself wyl dye for it.' "Whereupon he toke his cursere, and rode among the throng of ennes myes: the which layed sore stripes upon hym, and pulled hym at the last out of his sadel to the grounde. "Then Thomas Gray, with al the hole garrison, lette prik yn among the Scottes, and so wondid them and their horses, that they were overthrowan; and Marmion, sore beten, was horsid agayn, and with Gray, persewed the Scottes yn chase. There were taken 50 horse of price; and the women of Norham brought them to the foote men to follow the chase." N NOTE X. Sir Hugh the Heron bold, Baron~of Twisell, and of Ford, And Captain of the Hold. Were accuracy of any consequence in a fictitious narrative, this. castelr lan's name ought to have been Wi4iam;: for WiUiam Heron of Ford was. husband of the famous Lady Ford, whose syren, charms are said to have cost our James IV. so dear. NOTE XI. James backed the cause of that mock princs, Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit, Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. Then did I march with Surrey's power, What.time we razed old Ayton tower. The story of Perkin Warbeck, or Richard, Duke of York, is well known. In 1496, hewas received honourably in Scotland; and James.IV., after conferring upon him in marriage his own relation, the Lady Catherinq: Gordon, made war on England in behalf of his pretensions. To retaliate an invasion of England, Surrey advanced into Berwickshire at the head of considerable forces, but retreated after taking the inconsiderable fortress. of Ayton. NOTE XII. For here be some have pricked as far, On Scottish ground as to Dunbar; Have drunk the monks of St Bothan's ale, And driven the beeves of Lauderdale. The garrisons of the English castles of Wark, Norham, aad Berwic. I were very troublesome aeighbours to Scotland. Sir R;chard Maitland of Ledington, wrote a poem, called "The Blind Baron's Comfort;" when~his barony of Blythe,.in Lauderdale, was hat-ried by Rowland Foster, the English captain of Wark, with his company, to the number of 300 men. They spoiled the poetical knight of 5,000 sheep, 200 nolt, 30 horses and mares; the whole furniture of his house of Blythe, worth 100 pounds Scots, (48. 6s. 8d.) and everything else that Was portable.

Page  [unnumbered] OtYEUS TO CANTO FIRST. NOTE XIII. And of that grot where Olives nod) Where, darling of each heart and eye1 From all the youth of Sicily; Saint Rosalie retired to God. ":Sante Rosalla was of Palermo, and born' of a very noble fmile, and, when very young, abhorred so much' the- vanities of this world, and avoided the converse of mankind, resolving to dedicate herself wholly to God Almighty, that she, by divine inspiration:, forsook her father's house, and never was more heard of, till, her; body was" found in that cleft of a rock, on that almost inaccessible mountain, where now the chappel is built: and they' affirm she was carried.up there by the hands of angels;* for that place was not formerly so accese sible (as now it is) in the days of'the Saint;'. and even' now it is a very bad, and steepy, and break-neck way. In this frightful'place, thisholy woman lived a great many years, feeding only on what she found growing on that barren mountain, and creeping mto a narrow and dreadful cleft in a rock, which was always dropping wet, and was her place of retirement as well as prayer." —Voyage to,Sicily and Malta, by Mr. John Dryden (soa te the poet), p. 107. NOTE XIV. Himself still sleeps before his beads Have marked ten aves-and two creeds. FriarJohn understood the soporific virtue of his bideals d breviary, as well as his namesake in Rabelais. " But Gargantua could not sleep by any means, on which side soever he turned himself, whereupon the monk said:to him,' I never sleep soundly but when I am at sermon, or prayers: let us -there. fore begin, you and I, the seven penitential psalms, to try whether yaou shall not quickly fall asleep.' The conceit pleased Gargantua very welli and, beginning the first of these psalms, as soon as- they came. to Beatt Quorum, they both fell asleep." NOTE XV, Peter's-keys, in cloth of red On his broad shoulders wrought. A Palmer, opposed to a Pilgrim, was one who made it his sole business to visit different holy shrines,travelling incessantly, and subsisting by charity; whereas the pilgrim retired to his usual home and occupations, when he had paid his devotions at the particular spot, which was the ob, ject of his pilgrimage. The Palmers seem to have been-the Queestsenarjt of the ancient Scottish canons 1242 and 1296. NOTE XVI. To fair St. Andrew's bound, Within the ocean-cave to pray, Where good St. Rule his holy lay, From midnight to the dawn of day, Sung to the billows' sound. St. Regulus (Seottice, St. Rule), a monk of Patree, in Achaia, warned by a vision, is said, A.D. 370, to have sailed westward, until he landed at St. Andrew's, in Scotland, where he founded a- chapel and tower. The latter is still standing, and is certainly one of the most ancient edifices in Scotland. A'cave, nearly fronting the ruinous castle of the Archbishops of St. Andrew's, bears the name of this religious person. It is difficult-o access; and the rock in which it is hewed is washed by the German ocean. It is nearly round, about ten feet in diameter, and the same in height. O, one side is a sort of altar; on the other an aperture into an inner den, where the miserable ascetic, who inhabited this dwelling, probably slept. As Regulus first colonized the metropolitan see of Scotland, and converted the inhabitants in the vicinity, he has some reason to complain that-the ancient name of Kilrule (Cella Regz4ti) should have been superseded, even in favour of the tutelar saint of Scotland. The reason of the change was, that St. Rule is said to have brought to Scotland the reliques of St. Andrew,

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO SECOrID NOTE XVII. Thence to St. Fillan's blessed well, Whose springs can frenzied dreams dispel, And the crazed brain restore. St Fillan was a Scottish saint of some reputation. There are, In Perth. ohis, several wells and springs dedicated to St. Fillan, which are still places of pilgrimage and offerings, even among the Protestants. They are held powerful in cases of madness; and in cases of very late occur. rence, lunatics have been left all night bound to the holy stone, in conf. dence that the saint would cure and release them before the mojiing, gf ote; to fiarmrmtfll CANTO SECOND. NOTE I. The scenes are desert now, and bare Where flourished once a forest fair. Ettrieke Forest, now a range of mountainous sheep walks, was as eiently reserved for the pleasure of the royal chase. Since it was dis. parked, the wood has been, by degrees, almost totally destroyed, although, wherever protected from the sheep, copses soon arise without any planting. When-the king hunted there, he often summoned the array of the count try to meet and assist his sport. Thus, in 1528, James V. " made procla. mation to all lords, barons, gentlemen, landward-men, and freeholders, that they should compear at Edinburgh, with a month's victuals, to pass with the king where he pleased, to danton the thieves of reviotdale, Annan. dale, Liddisdale, and other parts of that country; and also warned all gentlemen that had good dogs, to bring them, that he might hunt in the said country, as he pleased; the whilk the Earl of Argyle, the Earl of Huntley, the Earl of Athol, and so all the rest of the gentlemen of the Highland, did, and brought their hounds with them in like manner, to hunt with the king as he pleased. " The second day of June, the king past out of Edinburgh to the hunt. ing, with many of the nobles and gentlemen of Scotland with him, to the number of twelve thousand men; and then passed to Meggitland, and hounded and hawked all the country and hounds: that is to say, Crammat, Papertlaw, St. Marylaws, Carlavirick, Chapel, Ewindoores, and Longhope. I heard say, he slew, in those bounds, eighteen score of harts."* Taylor, the water-poet, has given an account of the mode in which these buntings were conducted in the Highlands of Scotland, in the seventeenth century, having been present at JBraemar upon such an occasion: " For once in the year, which is the whole month of August, and some. times part of September, many of the nobility and gentry of the kingdom (for their pleasure) do come into these Highland countries to hunt; where they do conform themselves to the habit of the highland-men, who, for the most part, speak nothing but Irish; and, in former time, were those people which were called the Red shanks. Their habit is —eh)es, with but one sole a-piece; stockings (which they call short hose) made of a warm stuff of divers colours, which they call tartan; as for breeches, many of them, nor their forefathers, never wore any, but a j.rkin of the same stuff that their hose is made of; their garters being bands os'ittlcottie's H.i tory of S&ecolt

Page  [unnumbered] NIOTES TO:ANTO SECOND. wreathes Of hay, or straw; with a plaid about their shoulders, which is a ~mantle of divers colours; with blue flat caps on their heads; a handker. ehief, knit with two knots, about their necks: and thus are they attired.'Now their weapons are-long bows and forked arrows, swords and targets, harquebusses, muskets, durks and Lochaber axes. With these arms I'found many of them armed for the hunting. As for their attire, any man, of what degree soever, that comes amongst them, must not disdain to wear it; for if they do then they will disdain to hunt; but if men be kind lunto them and be in their habit, then are they conquered with kindness, and the sqort will be plentiful. This was the reason that I'found so many noblemen and gentlemen in those shapes. But to proceed to the hunting: "My good Lord of Marr having put me into that shape, I rode with'him from his'house, where I saw the ruins of an old castle, called the castle of Kindroghit. "The first day, we travelled eight miles, where there were small cot. tages, built on purpose to lodge in, which they call Lonquhards. I thank my good Lord Erskine, he commanded that I should always be lodged in his lodging; the kitchen being always on the side of a bank; many ket. tles and pots boiling, and many spits turning and winding, with great variety of cheer,-as venison baked; sodden, roast, and stewed beef; mutton, goats, kid, hares, iresh salmon, pigeons, hens, capons, chickens, partridge, muir-coots, heath-cocks, caperkellies, and termagants; good ale, sacke, white and claret, tent (or allegant), with most potent aqua. vitae.'"All these, and more than these, we had continually in superfluous abundance, caught by faulconers, fowlers, fishers, and brought by my lord's tenants and purveyors, to victual our camps, which consisteth of fourteen or fifteen hundred men and horses. The manner of the hunting is this: five or six hundred men do rise early in the morning, and they do disperse themselves divers ways, and seven, -eight, or ten miles compass, they do bring, or chase in the deer, in many herds (two, three, or four hundred in a herd), to such or such a place, as -the noblemen shall appoint them; then, when day is come, the lords and gentlemen of their companies do ride or go to the said places, sometimes wading up to the middles, through burns and rivers; and then, they being come to the place, to lie down on the ground, till those foresaid scouts, which are called the Tinkhell, do bring down the deer: but, as the proverb says of a bad cook, so these tinkhell men do lick their own fingers; for, besides their bows and arrows, which they carry with them, we can hear, now and then, a harquebuss or a musket go off, which they do seldom discharge in vain. Then, after we had staid there three hours, or thereabouts, we smight perceive the deer appear on the hills round about us (their heads making a shew like a wood), which, being followed close by the tinkhell, are chased down into the valley where wve lay; then all the valley, on each side, being way-laid with a hundred couple of strong Irish greyhounds, they are all let loose, as occasion serves, upon the herd of deer, that, with dogs, guns, arrows, durks, and daggers, in the space of two hours, four. score fat deer were slain which after are disposed of, some one way, and some another, twenty and thirty miles, and more than enough left for us, toimake merry withal. attour rendezvous." NOTE 11. Lone Saint Mary's silver lake. This beautiful sheet of water forms the reservoir from which the Yarrow takes its source. It is connected with a smaller lake, called the Loch of the Lowes, and surrounded by mountains. In the winter it is still free qluented by flights of wild swans; hence my friend Mr. Wordsworth's lines:The swans on sweet St. Mary's lake Float double-swan and shadow..Wear the lower extremity of the lake, are the ruins of Dryhope Tower, the of Mary Scott, Daughter of Philip Scott

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TV CANTO B'SEMU of Dryhope, and famous by the traditional name of thw -'lowet of Yarrow. She was married to Walter Scott of Harden, no less renowned for his depredations,, than his bride for her beauty. Her romantic appellation was, in latter days, with equal justice, conferred on Miss Mary Lilias Scott, the lastof the elder branch of the Har. den family. The editor well remembers the talent and spirit of the latter Flower of Yarrow, though age had then injured the charms which pro. cured her the name. The words usually sung to the air of " Tweedside," beginning, "What beauties does Flora disclose," were composed in her honour. NOTE III. For though, in feudal strife, a foe Hath laid our Lady's chapel low. The chapel of Saint Mary of the Lowes (de lacubus) was situated on the eastern side of the lake to which it gives name. The vestiges of the building can now scarcely be traced; but the burial ground is still used as a cemetery. NOTE IV. Dark Lochskene. A mountain lake of considerable size at the head of the Moffat-water. The character of the scenery is uncommonly savage; and the earn, or Scottish eagle, has, for many ages, built its nest yearly upon an islet in the lake. The "Giant's Grave," afterwards mentioned, is a sort of trench, which bears that name, a little way from the foot of the cataract. NOTE V. Where from high Whitby's cloistered pile, Bound to St. Cuthbert's Holy isle. The Abbey of Whitby, in the Archdeaconry of Cleaveland, on the-coast If Yorkshire, was founded A.D. 657, in consequence of a vow of Oswy, King of Northumberland. It contained both monks and nuns of the Benedictine order. The monastery was afterwards ruined by the Danes, and rebuilded by William Percy, in the reign of the conqueror. There were no nuns there in Henry the Eighth's time, nor long before it. The ruins of Whitby Abbey are very magnificent. Lindisfarne, an isle on the coast of Northumberland, was called Holy Island, from the sanctity of its ancient monastery, and from its having been the episcopal seat of the see of Durham during the early ages of British Christianity. A succession of holy men held that office; but their merits were swallowed up in the su. perior fame of St. Cuthbert, who was sixth bishop of Durham, and who bestowed the name of his " patrimony" upon the extensive property of the see. The ruins of the monastery upon Holy Island betoken great anti. quity. Lindisfarne is not properly an Island, but rather, as the vene. table Bede has termed, a aemi-isle; for, although surrounded by:the sea at full tide, the ebb leaves the sands dry between it and the opposite coast of Northumberland, from which it is about two miles distant. NOTE VI. The lovely Edelfled. She was the daughter of King Oswy, who, in gratitude to heaven for the great victory which he won in 655, against Penda the pagan king of IMfercia, dedicated Edelfieda, then but a year old, to the service of God in the monastery of Whitby, of which St. Iilda was then abbeAs. She afterwards adorned the place of her education with great magni. NOTE VII. b-, —-- of thousand snakes, each one ~Was changed into a coil of stone When holy Hilda prayed. -------- how sea-fowls' pinions fail, As over Whitby's towers they sail. These two miracles are much insisted on by all ancient writers, who have occasion to mention either Whitby or St. Hilda. The reliques of the snakes which infested the precincts of the conveat,.

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO SECOND, and were, at -the abbess's prayer, -not only beheaded, but patrfied, are still found about the rocks, and are termed by Protestant fossilists JdnanonitaB. The other miracle-is thus mentioned by Camden:-" It is also ascribed to the power of her sanctity, that these wild geese, which in the winter fly in great flocks to the lakes and rivers unfrozen in the southern parts, to the great amazement of every one, fall down suddenly upon the ground, when they are in their flight over certain neighbouring fields hereabouts; a relation I should not have made, if I had not received -it from several credible men. But those who are less inclined to heed superstition, attribute it to some occult quality in the ground, and to somewhat of antipathy between it and the geese, such as they say is between wolves and scvlla-roots: for that such hidden tendencies and aversions, as we call sympathies and antipathies, are implanted in many things by provident nature for the preservation of them, is a thing so evident that every body grants it." The geese, it is almost unnecessary to add, have now forgot their obeisance to St. Hilda, or their antipathy to the soil, and fly over Whitby with as little difficulty as anywhere else. NOTE VIII. His body's resting place, of old, How oft their patron changed, they told. St. Cuthbert was, in the choice of his sepulchre, one of the most mutable and unreasonable saints in the Calendar. He died A.D. 686, in a hermitage upon the Farne Islands, having resigned the bishopric of Lin. disfarne, or Holy Island, about two years before. His oooy, after being Carrioed about from place to place, was ultimately brought to a place named Wardlaw, or Wardilaw. Here the saint chose his place of resi. dence; and all who have seen Durham, must admit, that if difficult in his choice, he evinced taste in at length fixing it. It is said that the Nor. thumbrian catholics still keep secret the precise spot of the saint's-sepulture, which is only entrusted to three persons at a time. When one dies, the survivors associate to them, in his room, a person judged fit to be the depositary of so valuable a secret. NOTE IX. Even Scotland's dauntless king and heir, &c., Before his standard fled, Every one has heard, that when David I., with h s son Henry, invaded Northumberland in 1136, the English host marched against them under the holy banner of St. Cuthbert; to the efficacy of which was imputed the great victory which they obtained in the bloody battle of Northaller. ton or Cuton-moor. The conquerors were at least as much indebted ta the jealousy and intractability of the different tribes who composed David's army, among whom, as mentioned in the text, were the Galwegians, the Britons of Strath-Clyde, the men of Teviotdale and Lothian, with many Norman and German warriors, who asserted the cause of the Empress Maud. NOTE X.'Twas he, to vindicate his reign, Edged Alfred's faulchion on the Dane, And turn'd the Conqueror back again. Cuthbert hadl no great reason to spare the Danes, when opportunity offered. Accordingly, I find, in Simeon of Durham, that the Saint ap. peared in a vision to Alfred, when lurking in the marshes of Glastonbury, and promised him assistance and victory overhis heathen enemies; a con. solation which, as was reasonable, Alfred, after the victory of Ashendown, rewarded, by a royal offering at the shrine of the Saint. As to William the Conqueror, the terror spread before his army, when he marched to punish the revolt of the Northumbrians, in 1096, had forced the monks to fly once more to Holy Island with the body of the Saint. It was, how. ever, replaced before William left the North, and, to balance accounts, the Conqueror having intimated an indiscreet curiosity to view the Saint's body, he was, while in the act of commanding the shrine to be

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. opened, seized with heat and sickness, accompanied with such a panicterror, that, notwithstanding there was a sumptuous dinner prepared for him, he fled without eating a morsel (which the monkish historian seems to have thought no small part both of the miracle and the penance), and never drew his bridle till he got to the river Tees. NOTE XI. St. Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame The sea-born beads that bear his name. Although we do not learn that Cuthbert was, during his life, such an artificer as Dunstan, his brother in sanctity, yet, since his death, he has acquired the reputation ot forging those Entrochi which are found among the rocks of Holy Island, and pass there by the name or St. Cuthbert's Beads. While at this task, he is supposed to sit during the night upon a certain rock, and use another as his anvil. This story was perhaps credited in former days; at least the saint's legend contains some not more probable. NOTE XII. Old Colwulf. Ceolwulf, or Colwulf, king of Northumberland, flourished in the eighth century. He was a man of some learning for the venerable Bede dedicates to him his " Ecclesiastical History." He abdicated the throne about 738, and retired to Holy Island, where he died in the odour of sanctity. NOTE XIII. Tynemouth's haughty prioress. That there was an ancient priory at Tynemouth is certain. Its ruins are situated on a high rocky point; and doubtless many a vow was made at the shrine, by the distressed mariners, who drove towards the iron. bound coast of Northumberland in stormy weather. It was anciently a nunnery; for Virca, abbess of Tynemouth, presented St. Cuthbert (yet alive) with a rare winding-sheet, in emulation of a holy lady, called Tuda, "Who had sent him a coffin, NOTE XIV. On those the wall was to enclose' Alive within the tomb. It is well known that the religious, who broke their vows of chastity were subjected to the same penalty as the Roman vestals in a similar case. A small niche, sufficient to inclose their bodies, was made in the massive wall of the convent; a slender pittance of tbod and water was deposited in it, and the awful words, VADE IN PACEM; were the signal for immur. ing the criminal. It is not likely, that, in latter times, this punishment was often resorted to; but, among the ruins of the abbey of Coldingham,'were some years ago discovered the remains of a female skeleton, which, from the shape of the niche, and the position of the figure, seemed to be that of an immured nun.

Page  [unnumbered] Ootte to Marefion. CANTO THIRD. NOTE I. The village Inn. The aecommodations of a Scottish hostelrie, or inn, in the 16th onm. fury, may be collected from Dunbar's admirable tale of the "Friars of Berwick." Simon Lauder, " the gay ostleir," seems to have lived very comfortably; and his wife decorated her person with a scarlet kertle, and a belt of silk and silver, and rings upon her fingers: and feasted her paramour with rabbits, capons, partridges, and Bourdeaux wine. At least, if the Scottish inns were not good, it was not from want of encour. agement from the legislature, who, so early as the reign of James I., not only enacted, that in all boroughs and lairs there be hostellaries, having stables and chambers, and provision for man and horse, but, by another statute, ordained, that no man travelling on horse or foot, should presume to lodge any where except in these hostellaries; and that no person, save inn-keepers, should receive such travellers,. under the penalty of forty shillings for exercising such hospitality. But, in spite of these provident enactments, the Scottish hostels are indifferent, and strangers continue to find reception in the houses of individuals. NOTE II. The death of a dear friend. Among other omens to which faithful credit is given among the Scottish peasantry, is what is called the " dead bell," explained by my friend, James Hogg, to be that tinkling in the ears which the country people re. gard as the secret intelligence of some friend's decease. NOTE III. The Goblin Hall. A vaulted hall under the ancient castle of Gifford, or Yester, the construction of which has, from a very remote period, been ascribed to magic. The statistical Account of the Parish of Garvald and Baro, gives the fol. lowing account of the present state of this castle and apartment: " Upon a peninsula, formed by the water of Hopes on the east, and a large rivulet on the west, stands the ancient castle of Yester. Sir David Dalrymple, in his annals, relates, that' HIugh Gifford de Yester died in 1267; that in his castle there was a capacious cavern formed by magical art, and called in the country Bo-hall, i. e. Hobgoblin Hall.' A stair of twenty-four steps led down to this apartment, which is a large and spacious hall, with an arched roof; and though it hath stood for so many centuries, and been exposed to the external air for a period of fifty or sixty years, it is still as firm and entire asif it had stood only a few years. From the floor of this hall, another stair of thirty-six steps leads down to a pit which hath a communication with Hopes-water. A great part of the walls of this large and ancient castle are still standing. There is a tradition, that the castle of Yester was tje last fortification, in this country, that surren. dered to General Gray, sent into Scotland by Protector Somerset." — Statistical Account, vol. xiii. I have only to add, that in 1737, the Goblin Hall was tenanted by the Marquis of Tweedale's Falconer, as I learn from a poem by Boyse, entitled " Retirement," written upon visittng Yester. It is now rendered inaccessible by the fall of the stair. NOTE IV. There floated Haco's banner trunm, Above Norweyah warriors grim. In 1263, Haco, King of Norway, came into the Firth of Clyde with a powerful armament, and made descent at Largs, in Ayrshire. Here he 51

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. was encountered and defeated, on the 2nd October, by Alexander III. Haco retreated to Orkney, where he died soon after this disgrace to his arms. There are still existing, near the place of battle, many barrows, some of which, having been opened, were found, as usual, to contain bones and urns. NOTE V. Upon his breast a pentacle. " A pentacle is a piece of fine linen, folded with five corners, according to the five senses, and suitably inscribed with characters. This the ma. gician extends towards the spirits which he evokes, when they are stub. born and rebellious, and refuse to be conformable unto the ceremonies and rites of magic," NOTE VI. As born upon that blessed night, When yawning graves, and dying groan Proclaimed hell's empire overthrown. It is a popular article of faith, that those who are born on Christmas, or Good Friday, have the power of seeing spirits, and even of commanding them. The Spaniards imputed the haggard and downcast looks of their Philip II. to the disagreeable visions to which this privilege subjected NOTE VII. Yet still the mighty spear and shleld, The elfin warrior doth wield Upon the brown hill's breast. The following extract from the Essay upon the Fairy superstitions, In "The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," will shew whence many of the particulars of the combat between Alexander I1I. and the Goblin Knight are derived: " Gervase of Tilbury (Othfa Inmperial. ap. Script. rer Brunsvic.) relates the following popular story concerning a fairy knight:' Osbert, a bold and powerful baron, visited a noble family in the vicinity of Wandle. bury, in the bishopric of Ely. Among other stories related in the social circle of his friends, who, according to custom, amused each other by re. lating ancient tales and traditions, he was informed, that if any knight, unattended, entered an adjacent plain by moon-light, and challenged an adversary to appear, he would be immediately encountered by a spirit in the form of a knight. Osbert resolved to make the experiment, and set out attended by a single squire, whom he ordered to remain without the limits of the plain, which was surrounded by an ancient entrench. ment. On repeating the challenge he was instantly assailed by an adversary, whom he quickly unhorsed, and seized the reins of his steed. During this operatioi, his ghostly opponent sprunq up, and darting his spear, like a javelin, at Osbert, wounded him in the thigh. Osbert returned in triumph with the horse, which he comnmitted to the care of his servants. The horse was of a sable colour, as well as his whole accoutre. mnents, and apparently of great beauty and vigour. ~ He remained with his keeper till cock-crowing, when, with eyes flashing fire, he reared, spurned the ground, and vanished. On disarming himself, Osbert perceived that he was wounded, and that one of his steel-boots was full of blood. Ger. vase adds, that as long as he lived, the scar of his wound opened afresh on the anniversary of the eve on which he encountered the spirit.-Less fortunate was the gallant Bohemian knight, who, travelling by night, with a single companion, came in sight of a fairy host, arrayed under displayed banners. Despising the remonstrances of his friend, the knight pricked forward to break a lance with a champion, who advanced from the ranks, apparently in defiance. His companion beheld the Bohemian overthrown, horse and man, by hisaerial adversary; and returning to the spot next morning.he found the mangled corpses of the knight and ateed.'' — Hierarchie of Blessed Angels. Besides the instances of elfin chivalry, above quoted. many others unight be alleged in support of employing fairy machinery in this manner.

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTOD FOUTH. The forest of Glemmore, in the North Highlands, is believed to le haunted by a spirit called Lkamdeasrg,in the array of an ancient warrior, having a bloody hand, from which he takes his name. He insists upon those with whom he meets doing battle with him; and the clergyman who makes.up an adcount of the district, extant in the Macfarlane MS., in the Advocates' Library, gravely assures us, that, in his time, LAam. dearg fought with three brothers whom he met in his walk, none of whom long survived the ghostly conflict. Barclay, in his " Euphormion," gives a singular account of an officer who had ventured, with his servant, rather to intrude upon a haunted house, in a town in Flanders, than to put up with worsequarters elsewhere. After taking the usual precautions of providing fires, lights, and arms, they watched till midnight, when, behold I the severed arm of a man dropped from the ceiling; this was followed by the legs, the other arm, the trunk, and the head of the body, all separately. The members rolled together, united themselves in the presence of the astonished soldiers, and formed a gigantic warrior, which defied them both to combat. Their blows, although they penetrated the body, and amputated the limbs of their strange antagonist, had, as the reader may easily believe, little effect on an enemy who possessed such powers of self-union; nor did his efforts make more effectual impression upon them. How the combat terminated, I do not exactly remember, and have not the book by me. But I think the spirit made to the in. truders on his mansion the usual proposal, that they should renounce their redemption, which being declined, he was obliged to retreat. The northern champions of old were accustomed peculiarly to search for, and delight in encounters with such military spectres. See a whole chapter on the subject in BaDToLIrNUs de Causis contemPte 2Mortie ADon:s, p, 253 Iote0 to Marmton. CANTO FOURTH. NOTE I, Cfose to the hut, no more his own, Close to the aid he sought in vain, The. morn may find the stiffened swain. I cannot help here mentioning, that, on the night on which these lines were written, suggested, as they were, by a sudden fall of snow, begil, ning after sunset, an unfortunate man perished exactly in the manner here described. and bis body was next morning found close to his own house. NOTE II. Friar Rush. This personage is a strolling demon, or esprit follet, who, once upon a time, got admittance into a monastery, as a scullion, and played the monks many pranks. He was also a sort of Robin Goodfellow, and Jack o' Lanthorn. It is in gllusion to this mischievous demon~ tb Ailton's crown Ipeaels, — dIown ipeaks,' She war pinched and pulled, she said, And be by friar's lanthorn led. NOTE III. Crichton Castle. A large. ruinous castle on the banks of the Tyne, about seven milo i;

Page  [unnumbered] MOTES TO CANTO FOURTH; fsom Edinburgh. It was built at different times and with very different regard to splendour and accommodation. The oldest part of the build. ing is a narrow keep, or tower, such as formed the mansion of a lesser Scottish baron; but so many additions have been made to it, that there is now a large court-yard, surrounded by buildings of different ages. The eastern front of the court is raised above a portico, and decorated with entablatures, bearing anchors. All the stones in this front are cut into diamond facets, the angular projections of which have an uncommonly rich appearance. The inside of this part of the building seems to have contained a gallery of great length and uncommon elegance. Access was given to it by a magnificent, now quite destroyed. The soffits are ornamented with twining cordage and rosettes; and the whole seems to have been far more splendid than was usual in Scottish castles. The castle belonged originally to the Chancellor, Sir William Crichton, and probably owed to him its first enlargement, as well as its being taken by the Earl of Douglas, who imputed to Crichton's counsels the death of his predecessor, Earl William, beheaded in Edinburgh Castle, with his bro. ther, in 1440. It is said to have been totally demolished on that occasion; but the present state of the ruins shews the contrary. In 1483, it was garrisoned by Lord Crichton, then its proprietor, against King James III., whose displeasure he had incurred by seducing his sister Margaret, in revenge, it is said, for the monarch having dishonouredhis bed. From the Crichton family the castle passed to that of the Hephurns, Earl Both. well; and when the forfeitures of Stewart, the last Earl Bothwell, were divided, the barony and castle-of Crichton fell to the share ot the Earl of Buccleuch. They were afterwards the property of the Pringles of Clifton, and are now that of Sir John Callandar, Baronet. It were to be wished the proprietor would take a little pains to preserve these splendid remains of antiquity, which are at present used as a fold for sheep, and wintering cattle; although, perhaps, there are very few ruins in Scotland which display so well the style and beauty of ancient castle-architecture. The castle of Crichton has a dungeon vault, called the Massy MHore. The epithet, which is not uncommonly applied to the prisons of other old castles in Scotland, is of Saracenic origin. It occurs twice in the " Epistole Itineraria" of Tollius: " Carser subterraneus, sive, ut Mauri appellant, DIAZMORaa," p. 147; and again, " Coguntur omnesCaptivi sub noctem in ergastetla subterranea, qua Tutcca Algezerani vocant MIazMORRaASA," p. 243. The same word applies to the dungeons of the ancient Moorish castles in Spain,'and serves to shew from what nation the Gothic style of castle-building was originally derived, NOTE IV. Earl Adam HeDburn. He was the second Earl of Bothwell, and fell in the field of Flodden, where, according to an ancient Ejglish poet, he distinguished himself by a furious attempt to retrieve the day:Then on the Scottish part, right proud, The Earl of Bothwell then out brast, And stepping forth with stomach good, Into the enemies' throng he thrast; And Bothwell! Bothwell! cried bold, To cause his souldiers to ensue, But there he caught a wellcome cold, The Englishmen straight down him threw. Plodden Fiel&L Adam was grandfather to James, Earl of Bothwell, too well known in the history of Queen Mary. NOTE V. For that a messenger from heaven, In vain to James had counsel given Against the English war. This story is told by Pitscottie, with characteristic simplicity: "The ting, seeing that France could get no'support of him for that time, made

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. a proclamation full hastily, through all the realm of Scotland, both east and west, south and north, as well in the isles as in the firm land, to' all manner of man, betwixt sixty and sixteen years, that they should be ready', within twenty days, to pass with him, with forty days' victual, and to meet at the Burrow-muir of Edinburgh, and there to pass forward where he pleased. His proclamations were hastily obeyed, contrary to the Council of Scotland's will; but every man loved his prince so well, that they would in no wise disobey him; but every man caused make his proclamation so hastily, conform to the charge of the king's proclamation. "The king came to Lithgow, where he happened to be for the time, at the Council, very sad and dolorous, making his devotion to God, to send him good chance and fortune in his voyage. In this mean time, there came a man, clad in a blue gown, in at the kirk-door, and belted about him in a roll of linen-cloth; a pair of brotikins (1) on his feet, to the great of his legs; with all other hose and clothes conform thereto: but he had nothing on his head, but syde (2) red yellow hair behind, and on his haffets,(3) which wan down to his shoulders; but his forehead was bald and bare. He seemed to be a man of two-antd-fifty years, with a great pike-staff in his hand, and came first forward among the lords, cry. ing and speiring (4) for the king, saying he desired to speak with him. While, at the last, he came where the king was sitting in the desk at his prayers; but when he saw the king he made him little reverence or salutation, but leaned down grofling on the desk before him, and said to him in this manner, as after follows:' Sir king, my mother hath sent me to you, desiring you not to pass, at this time, where thou art purposed; for if thou does, thou wilt not fare well in thy journey, nor none that passeth with thee. Further, she bade thee mell (5) with no woman, nor use their counsel, nor let them touch thy body, nor thou theirs; for if thou do it, thou wilt be confounded and brought to shame.' " By this man had spoken thir words unto the king's grace, the evening song was near done, and the king paused on thir words, studying to give him an answer; but in the mean time, before the king's eyes, and in the presence of all the lords that were about him for the time, this mar vanished away, and could no ways be seen nor comprehended, but vanished away as he had been a blink of the sun, or a whip of the whirlwind, and could no more be seen. I heard say, Sir David Lindesay, lyon. herauld, and John Inglis the marshal, who were at that time young men, and special servants to the king's grace, were standing presently beside the king, who thought to have laid hands on this man, that they might have speired further tidings at him: but all for nought; they could not touch him; for he vanished away betwixt them, and was no more seen." NOTE VI. June saw his father's overthrow. The rebellion against James III. was signalized by the cruel circumstance of his son's presence in the hostile army. When the king saw his own banner displayed against him, and his son in the faction of his ene. mies, he lost the little courage he ever possessed, fled out of the field, fell from his horse as it started at a woman and water pitcher, and was slain, it is not well understood by whom. James IV., after the battle, passed to Stirling, and hearing the monks of the chapel royal deploring the death of his father, their founder, he was seized with deep remorse, which mania fested itself in severe penances. NOTE VII. -in proud Scotland's royal shield The ruddy Lion ramp'd in gold. The well-known arms of Scotland. If you will believe Boethius and Buchanan, the double tressure round the shield, counterfleur-de-lised, or lizgued and armed azure, was first assumed by Achaius, King of Scotffand, contemporary of Charlemagne, and founder of the celebrated teague with France; but later antiquaries make poor Eochy, or Achy. (l)Buskins.'2) Long. (3)Cheeks. (4) Asking. (5) Meddle. 51 *

Page  [unnumbered] 'OT'E'S TO CANTO FIliTt. little better than a sort of King of Brentford, whom old Grig (who has- aliM twelled into Gregorius. Magnus) associated with- himself in the importaat daity of governing some part of the north eastern coast of' cotland.,i ote to 4(armion. CANTO FIFTH.'NOTE I. Sniee first, when conquering York arose, To Henry meek she gave repose. lTenry VI., with his queen, his heir, and the chiefs ofhis family, fled to Scotland after the fatal battle of Towton. Queen Margaret certainly came to Edinburgh, though it seems doubtful whether her husband did so. NOTE' II. The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail. This is no poetical exaggeration. In some of the counties of Enigland, distinguished for archery, shafts of this extraordinary length were actually used. The Scottish, according to Ascham, had a proverb, that every English archer carried under his belt twenty-four Scots, in allusion *l to his bundle of unerring shafts. NOTE III. l He saw the hardy burghers there March armed, on foot, with faces bare. The Scottish burgesses were, like yeomen, appointed to be armed with bows and sheaves, sword, buckler, knife, spear, or a good axe instead of a bow, if worth 1001.: their armour to be of white or bright harness. They wore white hats, i. e. bright steel caps, without crest or vizor. By an act of James IV., their weapon'schawings are appointed to be held four times a-year under the aldermen or bailiffs, NOTE IV, On foot the yeomen too. Bows and quivers were in vain recommended to the peasantry of Scot. land. by repeated statutes; spears and ages seem universally to have been used instead of them. Their defensive armour was the plate-jack, haun berk, or brigantine; and their missile Weapons cross bows and culverins. All wore swords of excellent temper, according to Patten; and a volumi, nous handkerchief round their neck, " not for cold, but for cutting." The miace also was much used in the Scottish army. NOTE V. A banquet rich, and costly Wines. In all transactions of great or petty importance, and among whomno ever taking place, it would seem that a present of wine was an uniform and indispensable preliminary. NOTE VI......_ I-, —— h — his iron belt, That bound his breast in penancepain,. In memory of his father slain. Few readers need to be reminded of this belt, to the weight of which James added certain ounces every year that he lived. Pitscottie founds his belief, that James was not slain in the battle of Flodden, because the English never had this token of the Iron belt to shew to any Scottishbnaa

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES tO CANTO FIPTf -The person and character of James are delineated according to out best historians. His. romantic disposition, which led, him highly to relsh gaiety, approaching to license, was at. the same time, tinged. *ith en. thusiastic devotion. These propensities sometimes formed a strange contrast. He was wont, during his fits of devotion, to assume the dre.s, and conform to the rules of the order of. Franciscans; andwhen he had thus Ione penance for some, timein Stirling, to plunge again into the tide of pleasure. NOTE VII. Sir. Hugh the Heron's wife held sway. It has been already. noticed, that: King James' acquaintance with Lady Heron of Ford did not commence until he marched into England. Out'historians impute to the king's infatuated passion, the delays that led to the latal defeat. of Flodden. NOTE VIII. For the fair Queen of FranceSent him a Turaurois ring, an. glove, And charged him, as her knight and love, For her to break. a lance. "Also the Queen of France wrote a love-letter to the King of Scotland, calling him her love, shewing him that she had suffered much rebuke in France for the defending of his honour. She believed surely that'he would recompense her..gain with some of his kingly support in her necessity; that is to say, that he would raise her an army, and come three foot of ground on English ground for her sake. To that effect she sent him a ring off her finger, with fourteen thousand French crowns to pay his expenses. NOTE IX. Archibald Bell-the-Cat. Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, a man remarkable for strength ofbody and mind, acquired the popular name of Bell-the. Cat, upon the following remarkable occasion: James the Third, of whom Pitscottie complains that he delighted more in music and "politics of building,''" than In hunting, hawking, and other noble exercises, was so ill advised as to make favourites of his architects and musicians, whom the same historian irreverently terms masons and fiddlers. His nobility, who did not sympa. thize in the king's respect for the fine arts, were extremely incensed at honours conferred on these persons, particularly on Cochrane, a masoJn9 who had been created Earl of Mar. And seizing the opportunity when, in 1482, the king had convoked the whole array of the country to march against the English, they held a midnight council in the church of Lauder, for the purpose of forcibly removing these minions from the king's person. When all had agreed on the propriety of the measure, Lord Gray told the assembly the Apologue of the Mice; who had formed a resolution that it would be highly advantageous to their community to tie a bell round the cat's neck, that they might'hear her approach at a distance; but which public measure unfortunately miscartied, from no mouse being willing to undertake the task of fastening the bell. "I understand the moral," said Angus, " and that what we propose may not lack execution, I will bell the cat." NOTE X. Against the war had Angus stood, And chafed his royal lord. Angus was an old man when the war against England was resolved upon. He earnestly spoke against that measure from its commencement; and, on the eve of the battle of Flodden, remonstrated so freely on the iaupolicy of fighting, that the king said to him with scorn and indignation "if he was afraid he might go home." The earl burst into tears at this insupportable insult, and retired accordingly, leaving his sons, George, master of Angus, and Sir William, of Glenbervie, to command his folo lowers. They were both slain in the battle, with two hundred gentleluen. _

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. of the name of Douglas. The aged earl, broken-hearted at the calamities of his house and his country, retired into a religious house, where he died about a year after the field of Flodden. NOTE XI. Then rest you in Tantallon Hold. The ruins of Tantallon Castle occupy a high rock projecting into the German Ocean, about two miles east of North Berwick. Tantallon was a rincipal castle of the Douglas family, and when the Earl of Anrus was banished in 1527, it continued to hold out against James V. When the Earl returned from banishment, upon the death of James, he again obtained possession of Tantallon, and it actually afforded refuge to an English ambassador, under circumstances similar to those described in the text. This was no other than the celebrated Sir Ralph Sadler, who resided there for some time under Angus's protection, after the failure of his negotiation for matching the infant Mary with Edward VI. NOTE XII. Their motto on his blade. A very ancient sword, in possession of Lord Douglas, bears, among a great deal of flourishing, two hands pointing to a heart, which is placed betwixt them, and the date, 1329, being the year in which Bruce charged the Gool Lord Douglas to carry his heart to the Holy Land. NOTE XIII. Martin Swart. The name of this German general is preserved by that of the field of battle, whfich is called, after him, Swartmoor.-There were songs about him long current in England.-See Dissertation prefixed to Ritson's Ancient S,ngs, 1792, page lxi. NOTE XIV. Dun-Edin's Cross. The cross of Edinburgh was an ancient and curious structure. The lower part was an octagonal tower, sixteen feet in diameter, and about fifteen feet high. NOTE XV. This awful summons came. This supernatural citation is mentioned by all our Scottish historians. It was, probably, like the apparition at Linlithgow, an attempt, by those averse to the war, to impose upon the superstitious temper of James IV. NOTE XVI. Fitz-Eustace bade them pause a while, Before a venerable pile. The convent alluded to is a foundation of Cistertian nuns near North Berwick, of which there are still some remains. It was founded by Duncan, Earl of Fife, in 1216.

Page  [unnumbered] gotes to 4arrmion. CANTO SIXTH. NOTE I. The savage Dane At Iol more deep the mead did drain. The Iol of the heathen Danes (a word still applied to Christmas in Scotland), was solemnized with great festivity. The humour of the Danes at table displayed itself in pelting each other with bones. NOTE II. On Christmas eve the mass was sung. In Roman Catholic countries, mass is never said at night, excepting on Christmas eve. NOTE III. The Highlander —. -- - Will on a Friday morn look pale, If asked to tell a fairy tale. The Daoine shi', or Men of Peace, of the Scottish Highlanders, rather resemble the Scandinavian Duergai than the English Fairies. Notwithstanding their name, they are, if not absolutely malevolent, at least peevish, discontented, and apt to do mischief on slight provocation. The! belief of their existence is deeply impressed on the Highlanders, who think they are particularly offended with mortals, who talk of them, who wear their favourite colour, green, or in any respect interfere with their affairs. This is particularly to be avoided on Friday, when, whether as dedicated to Venus, with vw'hom, in Germany, this subterraneous people are held nearly connected, or for a more solemn reason, they are more active, and possessed of greater power. Some curious particulars con. cerning the popular superstitions of the Highlanders, may be found in Dr. Graham's Picturesque Sketches of Perthshire. NOTE IV, --— The towers of Franchemont. The journal of the friend, to whom the Fourth Canto of the poem is inscribed, furnishes me with the following account of a striking super. stition:"Passed the'pretty little village of Franchemont (near Spaw), with the romantic ruins of the old castle of the Counts of that name. The road leads through many delightful vales, on a rising ground; at the extremity. of one of them stands the ancient castle, now the subject of many super. stitious legends. It is firmly believed by the neighbouring peasantry, that the last Baron of Franchemont deposited, in one of the vaults of the castle, a ponderous chest, containing an immense treasure in gold and silver, which, by some magic spell, was entrusted to the care of the devil, who is constantly found seated on the chest in the shape of a huntsman. Any one adventurous enough to touch the chest is instantly siezed with the palsy. Upon one occasion, a priest of noted piety was brought to the vault: he used all the arts of'exorcism to persuade his infernal majesty to vacate his seat, but in vain; the huntsman remained immoveable. A: last, moved by the earnestness of the priest, he told him that he would agree to resign the chest, if the exorciser would sign his name with blood

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. But the priest understood his meaning. and refused, as by that act he would have delivered over his soul to the devil. Yet if any body can dis. cover the mystic words used by the person who deposited the treasure, and pronounce them, the fiefid must instantly decamp. I had many stories of a similar nature from a peasant, who had himself seen the devil, in the shape of a great cat." NOTE V. A Bishop by the altar stood. The well known Gawain Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, son of Archibald Bell-the-Cat, Earl of Angus. He was author of a Scottish metrical ver. sion of the ineid, and of many other poetical pieces of great merit. He had not at this period attained the mitre. NOTE VI. - The huge and sweeping brand, That wont of yore in battle fray His foemen's limbs to lop away, As wood-knife shreds the sapling Spray. Angus had strength and personal activity corresponding to his courage. Spens of Kilspindie, a favourite of James IV., having spoken of him lightly, the Earl met him while hawking, and compelling hint to single combat, at one blow cut asunder his thigh bone, and killed him on the spot. But ere he could obtain James's pardon for this slaughter, Angus was obliged to yield his castle of Hermitage, in exchange for that of Both. well, which was some diminution to the family greatness. The sword. with which he struck so remarkable a blow, was presented by his descendant, James, Earl of Morton, afterwards Regent of Scotland, to Lord Lindesay-of the Byres, when he defied Bothwell to single combat on Carberry.hill. NOTE VII, And hopest thou hence unscathed to go? No, by St. Bryde of Bothwell, no I Up draw-bridge, grooms-what, warder, hot Let the portcullis fall. This ebullition of violence in the potent Earl of Angus is not without its examples in the real history of the house of Douglas, whose chieftains possessed the ferocity with the heroic virtues of aisavage state. The most curious instance occurred in the case of Maclellan, tutor of Bomby, who, having refused to acknowledge the pre-eminence claimed by Douglas over the gentlemen and Barons of Galloway, was seized and imprisoned in. his castle of Thrieve, on the borders of Kirkcudbright-shire. Sir Patrick Gray, commander of King James the Second's guard, was uncle to the tutor of Bomby, and obtained from the king a " sweet letter of supplica. tion." praying the earl to deliver his prisoner into Gray's hand. When Sir Patrick arrived at the castle, he was received with all the honour due to a favourite servant of the king's household; but while he was at dinner, the earl, who suspected his errand, caused his prisoner to be led forth and beheaded. After dinner, Sir Patrick presented the king's letter to the earl, who received it with great affectation of reverence: "and took him by the hand and led him forth to the green, where the gentleman was lying dead, and shewed him the manler, and said,' Sir Patrick, you are come a little too late; yonder is your sister's son lying, but he wants the head: take his body and do with it what you will.' Sir Patrick answered again with a sore heart, and said,' My lord, if ye have taken from him his-head, dispone upon the body as ye please:' and with that called for his horse, and leaped thereon; and when he Wvis on horseback, he said to the earl on this manner,'My lord, if I live, you shall be rewarced for your labours that you have used at this time, according to your demerits.' "At this saying, the earl was highly offended, and cried for horse, Sit

Page  [unnumbered] NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. Patrick seeing the earl's fury, spurred his horse, but he was chased near Edinburgh ere they left him; and had it not been his led hose was so tried and good, he had been taken. —PITsCOTTIB. NOTE VI1I. A letter' forged St. Judeto speed! Did ever knight so foUl a deed? Lest the reader should partake of the earl's astonishmient, anid consider the Crime as inconsistent with the manners of the period, I hawi to remind himn of the numerous forgeries (partly executed by a female assistaint' devised by Robert of Artois, to forward his suit against the Countess Matilda; which, being detected, occasioned his flight into England, and proved the remote cause of Edward the Third's memorable wars in France. John Harding, also, was expressly hired by Edward IV., to forge such documents as might appear to establish the claim of feilty asserted over Scotland by the English monarchs. NOTE IX. Hence might they see the full atmy Of either host, for deadly fray. The reader cannot here expect a full account of the battle of Flodden, but, so far as is necessary to understand the foregoing pages, I beg to remind him, that, when the English army, by their skilful counter-march, were fairly placed between King James and his own country, the Scottish monarch resolved to fight, and setting fire to his tents, descended from the ridge of Flodden, to secure the neighbouring eminence of Brankstone, on which that village, is built. Thus the twd armies met, almost without seeing each other. The English army advanced in four divisions. On the right were the sons of the Earl of Surrey, namely, Thomas Howard, the admiral of England, and Sir Edmund, the knight marshal of the army. The centre was commanded by Surrey in person;. the left wing by Sir Edward Stanley, with the men of Lancashire, and of the palatinate of Chester. Lord l)acres, with a large body of horse, formed the reserve. When the smoke, which the wind had driven between the armies, was somewhat dispersed, they perceived the Scots, who had moved down the hill in a s milar order of battle, and'in deep silence. The Earls of Huntley and of Home commanded their left wing, and charged Sir Edmund Ioward with such success, as entirely to defeat his part of the English left wing. The admiral, however, stood firm, and Dacres advancing to his support with the reserve of cavalry, probably between the inter. Val of the divisions commanded by the brothers Howard, appears to have kept the victors in effectual check. Home's men, chiefly Borderers, began to pillage the baggage of both armies, and their leader is branded, by the Scottish historians, with negligence or treachery. On the other hand, Huntley, on whom they bes