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And, pressing forward like the wind,
Left clamour and surprise behind.
The fisherman forsook the strand,

He is gone on the mountain,
The swarthy smith took dirk and

He is lost to the forest,

Like a summer-dried fountain,
With changed cheer, the mower blithe
Left in the half-cut swath the scythe; The font, reappearing,

When our need was the sorest. The herds without a keeper stray'd,

From the rain-drops shall borrow, The plough was in mid-furrow staid,

But to us comes no cheering,
The falc'ner toss'd his hawk away,

To Duncan no morrow!
The hunter left the stag at bay;
Prompt at the signal of alarms,

The hand of the reaper
Each son of Alpine rush'd to arms; Takes the ears that are hoary,
So swept the tumult and affray

But the voice of the weeper
Along the margin of Achray.

Wails manhood in glory.
Alas, thou lovely lake! that e'er The autumn winds rushing
Thy banks should echo sounds of fear ! Waft the leaves that are searest,
The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep But our flower was in flushing,
So stilly on thy bosom deep,

When blighting was nearest.
The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud, Fleet foot on the correi,
Seems for the scene too gaily loud.

Sage counsel in cumber,
Red hand in the foray,

How sound is thy slumber!
Speed, Malise, speed! the lake is past, Like the dew on the mountain,
Duncraggan's huts appear at last,

Like the foam on the river, And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half | Like the bubble on the fountain, seen,

Thou art gone, and for ever!' Half hidden in the copse so green; There mayest thou rest, thy labour done, Their Lord shall speed the signal on. See Stumah, who, the bier beside, As stoops the hawk upon his prey, His master's corpse with wonder eyed, The henchmanshot him down the way. Poor Stumah! whom his least halloo –What woeful accents load the gale ? Could send like lightning o'er the dew, The funeral yell, the female wail ! Bristles his crest, and points his ears, A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, As if some stranger step he hears. A valiant warrior fights no more. 'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread Who, in the battle or the chase, Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, At Roderick's side shall fill his place !-- But headlong haste, or deadly fear, Within the hall, where torches' ray Urge the precipitate career. Supplies the excluded bcams of day, All stand aghast :-unheeding all, Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, The henchman bursts into the hall; And o'er him streams his widow's tear. Before the dead man's bier he stood; His stripling son stands mournful by, Held forth the Cross besmear'd with His youngest weeps, but knows not blood; why;

* The muster-place is Lanrick mcad; The village maids and matrons round Speed forth the signal! clansmen, The dismal coronach resound.






But faded soon that borrow'd force;

Grief claim'd his right, and tears their Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. In haste the stripling to his side His father's dirk and broadsword tied; Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, But when he saw his mother's eye It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire; Watch him in speechless agony, O'er dale and hill the summons flow, Back to her open'd arms he flew, Norrest nor pause young Angus knew; Press'd on her lips a fond adieu The tear that gather'd in his eye * Alas!' she sobb’d, 'and yet, be gone, He left the mountain breeze to dry; And speed thee forth, like Duncan's Until, where Teith's young waters roll, son!'

Betwixt him and a wooded knoll, One look he cast upon the bier, Thatgraced the sable strath with green, Dash'd from his eye the gathering tear, The chapel of St. Bride was seen. Breathed deep to clear his labouring Swoln was the stream, remote the breast,

bridge, And toss'd aloft his bonnet crest, But Angus paused not on the edge; Then, like the high-bred colt, when, Though the dark waves danced dizzily, freed,

Though reel'd his sympathetic eye, First he essays his fire and speed, He dash'd amid the torrent's roar : He vanish'd, and o'er moor and moss His right hand high the crosslet borc, Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. His left the pole-axe grasp'd, to guide Suspended was the widow's tear, And stay his footing in the tide. While yet his footsteps she could hear; He stumbled twice—the foam splash'd And when she mark'd the henchman's high, сус

With hoarserswellthestream raced by ; Wet with unwonted sympathy, And had he fall'n,- for ever there * Kinsman,' she said, “ his race is run, Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir: That should have sped thine errandon; But still, as if in parting life, The oak has fall'n,—the sapling bough Firmer he grasp'd the Cross of strife, Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. Until the opposing bank he gain'd, Yet trust I well, his duty done, And up the chapel pathway strain'd. The orphan's God will guard my son. And you, in many a danger true, At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, A blithesome rout, that morning tide, Toarms, and guard that orphan's head: Had sought the chapel of St. Bride. Let babes and women wail the dead.' Her troth Tombea's Mary gave Then weapon-clang, and martial call, To Norman, heir of Armandave. Resounded through the funcral hall, And, issuing from the Gothic archi, Whilefrom the walls theattendant band | The bridal now resumed their march. Snatch'dsword and targe, with hurried In rude, but glad procession, came hand;

Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame; And short and flitting energy

And plaided youth, with jest and jeer, Glanced from the mourner'ssunkeneye, Whichsnooded maiden would not hear; As if the sounds to warrior dear, And children, that, unwitting wlly, Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. į Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry;




And minstrels, that in measures vied Norbackward glanced, tillon the heath Before the young and bonny bride, Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Whose downcast eye and cheek dis

Teith. close

What in the racer's bosom stirr'd ? The tear and blush of morning rose. The sickening pang of hope deferr’d, With virgin step, and bashful land, And memory, with a torturing train She held the 'kerchief's snowy band; Of all his morning visions vain. The gallant bridegroom by her side, Mingled with love's impatience, came Beheld his prize with victor's pride, The manly thirst for martial fame; And the glad mother in her ear The stormy joy of mountaineers, Was closely whispering word of cheer. Ere yet they rush upon the spears ;

And zeal for Clan and Chieftain

burning, Who meets them at the churchyard | And hope, from well-fought field gate ?

returning, The messenger of fear and fate! With war's red honours on his crest, Haste in his hurried accent lies, To clasp his Mary to his breast. And grief is swimming in his eyes. Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank All dripping from the recent flood,

and brae, Panting and travel-soil'd he stood, Like fire from flint he glanced away, The fatal sign of fire and sword While high resolve, and feeling strong, Held forth, and spoke the appointed | Burst into voluntary song :

word : • The muster-place is Lanrick mead; Speed forth the signal! Norman,

soxG. speed!'

• The heath this night must be my bed, And must he change so soon the hand, | The bracken curtain for my head, Just link'd to his by holy band,

My lullaby the warder's tread, For the fell Cross of blood and brand ?

Far, far from loveand thee, Mary; And must the day, so blithe that rose, To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, And promised rapture in the close,

My couch may be my bloody plaid, Before its setting hour, divide

My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid ! The bridegroom from the plighted

It will not waken me, Mary! bride? O fatal doom ! it must! it must!

I may not, dare not, fancy now Clan-Alpine’s cause, her Chieftain's The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, trust,

I dare not think upon thy vow, Her summons dread, brook no delay;

And all it promised me, Mary. Stretch to the race; away! away!

No fond regret must Norman know;
When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe,

His heart must be like bended bow, Yet slow he laid his plaid aside,

His foot like arrow free, Mary. And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride, Until he saw the starting tear A time will come with feeling fraught, Speak woe he might not stop to cheer; For, if I fall in battle fought, Then, trusting not a second look, Thy hapless lover's dying thought In haste he sped him up the brook, Shall be a thought on thee, Mary.



And if return'd from conquer'd foes, Allbackward came with news of truce; How blithely will the evening close, Stilllay each martial Græme and Bruce, How sweet the linnet sing repose, In Rednoch courts no horsemen wait, Tomy young bride and me, Mary!' | No banner waved on Cardross gate,

On Duchray's towers no beacon shone,

Nor scared the herons from Loch Con; Not faster o'er thy heathery braes,

All seem'd at peace.-Now, wot ye. Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze,

why Rushing, in conflagration strong, Thy deep ravines and dells along,

The Chieftain, with such anxious eye, Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow,

Ere to the muster he repair, And reddening the dark lakes below;

This western frontier scann'd with

care ?Nor faster speeds it, nor so far,

In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. The signal roused to martial coil

A fair, though cruel, pledge was left ; The sullen margin of Loch Voil,

For Douglas, to his promise true, Waked still Loch Doine, and to the And in a deep sequester'd dell

That morning from the isle withdrew, source

Had sought a low and lonely cell.
Alarm’d, Balvaig, thy swampy course;
Thence southward turn d its rapid by many a bard, in Celtic tongue,

Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung ;
Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, A softer name the Saxons gave,

And call'd the grot the Goblin-cave. Till rose in arms each man might claim A portion in Clan-Alpine's name, From the grey sire, whose trembling It was a wild and strange retreat, hand

As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. Could hardly buckle on his brand, To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow Yawn'd likeagash on warrior's breast;

The dell, upon the mountain's crest, Were yet scarce terror to the crow.

Its trench had staid full many a rock, Each valley, each sequester'd glen,

Hurl'd by primeval earthquake shock Muster'd its little horde of men,

From Benvenue's grey summit wild, That met as torrents from the height

And here, in random ruin piled, In Highland dales their streams unite, They frown'd incumbent o'er the spot, Still gathering, as they pour along,

And form’d the rugged silvan grot. A voice more loud, a tide more strong, Theoak and birch,with mingled shade, Till at the rendezvous they stood By hundreds prompt for blows and At noontide there a twilight made,

Unless when short and sudden shone blood;

Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, Each train'd to arms since life began,

With such a glimpse as prophet's eye Owning no tic but to his clan,

Gains on thy depth, Futurity. No oath, but by his chieftain's hand,

No murmur waked the solemn still, No law, but Roderick Dhu's command.

Save tinkling of a fountain rill; xxv.

But when the wind chafed with the That summer morn had Roderick Dhu lake, Survey'd the skirts of Benvenue, A sullen sound would upward break, And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath, · With dashing hollow voice, that spoke To view the frontiers of Menteith. The incessant war of wave and rock.



Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway,
Seem'd nodding o'er the cavern grey.
From such a den the wolf had sprung,

Their Chief, with step reluctant, still In such the wild-cat leaves her young;

Was lingering on the craggy hill, Yet Douglas and his daughter fair

Hard by where turn'd apart the road Sought for a space their safety there. To Douglas's obscure abode. Grey Superstition's whisper dread

It was but with that dawning morn, Debarr'd the spot to vulgar tread;

That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn For there, she said, did fays resort,

To drown his love in war's wild roar, And satyrs hold their silvan court,

Nor think of Ellen Douglas more; By moonlight tread their mystic maze,

But he who stems a stream with sand, And blast the rash beholder's gaze.

And fetters flame with flaxen band,

Has yet a harder task to prove,

By firm resolve to conquer love! Now eve, with western shadows long, Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, Floated on Katrine bright and strong,

Still hovering near his treasure lost; When Roderick, with a chosen few,

For though his haughty heart deny Repass'd the heights of Benvenue.

A parting meeting to his eye, Above the Goblin-cave they go,

Still fondly strains his anxious car, Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo: The accents of her voice to hear, The prompt retainers speed before, And inly did he curse the breeze To launch the shallop from the shore, That waked to sound the rustlingtrees. For cross Loch Katrine lies his way

But hark! what mingles in the strain ? To view the passes of Achray,

It is the harp of Allan-Bane, And place his clansmen in array.

That wakes its measure slow and high, Yet lags the chief in musing mind,

Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. Unwonted sight, his men behind.

What melting voice attends the strings? A single page, to bear his sword,

'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings. 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,

Ave Maria ! maiden mild! To view them from the neighbouring Listen to a maiden's prayer! height,

Thou canst hear though from the wild, By the low-levell’d sunbeams light ! Thou canst save amid despair. For strength and stature, from the Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, clan

Though banisli’d, outcast, and reEach warrior was a chosen man,

viled; As even afar might well be seen, Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayerBy their proud step and martial mien. Mother, hear a suppliant child ! Their feathers dance, their tartans

Ave Maria! float, Their targets gleam, as by the boat Ave Maria ! undefiled! A wild and warlike group they stand, The flinty couch we now must share That well became such mountain Shall seem with down of eider piled, strand.

If thy protection hover there.



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