The murky cavern's heavy air So well was match'd the tartan screen Shall breathe of balm if thou hast With heath-bell dark and brackens 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. We bow us to our lot of care, Beneath thy guidance reconciled; Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, And for a father hear a child! Ave Maria!' XXX. Died on the harp the closing hymn. He mutter'd thrice,-'the last time e'er And eastward held their hasty way, XXXI. A various scene the clansmen made; Some sate, some stood, some slowly stray'd; But most, with mantles folded round, Were couch'd to rest upon the ground, Scarce to be known by curious eye, From the deep heather where they lie, i 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, Canto Fourth. The Prophecy. I. 'THE rose is fairest when 'tis budding new. And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears. O wilding rose, whom fancy thus en dears, I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, Emblem of hope and love through future years!' Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. II. Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. All while he stripp'd the wild-rose | Unfit for arms; and given his charge, To his lone couch I'll be your guide;' | Duncraggan's milk-white bull they Then call'd a slumberer by his side, And stirr'd him with his slacken'd bow Up, up, Glentarkin! rouse thee, ho! We seek the Chieftain; on the track, Keep eagle watch till I come back.' III. Together up the pass they sped: 'What of the foemen?' 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; slew ' MALISE. Ah! well the gallant brute I knew! The choicest of the prey we had, When swept our merry-men Gallangad. His hide was snow, his horns were dark, His red eye glow'd 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 pikemen's goad, And when we came to Dennan's Row, King James the while, with princely A child might scatheless stroke his powers, Holds revelry in Stirling towers. Soon will this dark and gathering cloud care To the lone isle hath caused repair Each maid and matron of the clan, And every child and aged man brow.' V. NORMAN. 'That bull was slain: his reeking hide sink, Rocking beneath their headlong sway, The hermit gains yon rock, and stands MALISE. '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, Not aught that, glean'd from heaven or hell, Yon fiend-begotten monk can tell. The Chieftain joins him, see; and now, Together they descend the brow.' VI. And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord 'Tis hard for such to view unfurl'd 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, LIFE, THAT PARTY CONQUERS IN THE STRIFE!' VII. 'Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care! Self-offer'd to the auspicious blow: Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight, All in our maids' and matrons' sight, Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. X. ELLEN. 'No, Allan, no! Pretext so kind Reflects the invulnerable rock. Oh no! 'twas apprehensive thought For the kind youth,-for Roderick too (Let me be just) that friend so true; Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. In danger both, and in our cause! 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 !' XI. ALLAN. Nay, lovely Ellen!-dearest, nay! If aught should his return delay, He only named yon holy fane As fitting place to meet again. Be sure he's safe; and for the Græme,Heaven's blessing on his gallant name! My vision'd sight may yet prove true, Nor bode of ill to him or you. When did my gifted dream beguile ? 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: XII. BALLAD. ALICE BRAND. Merry it is in the good greenwood, When the mavis and merle are singing, When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, And the hunter's horn is ringing. 'O Alice Brand, my native land Is lost for love of you; And we must hold by wood and wold, As outlaws wont to do. 'O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright, And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, 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, For 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 slaughter'd deer, To keep the cold away.' 'O 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, 'And, Richard, if our lot be hard, XIII. 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, So blithe Lady Alice is singing; On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, Lord Richard's axe is ringing. Up spoke the moody Elfin King, His voice was ghostly shrill. 'Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, Our moonlight circle's screen? Or who may dare on wold to wear 'Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie, For thou wert christen'd man; For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, For mutter'd word or ban. 'Lay on him the curse of the wither'd heart, The curse of the sleepless eye; Till he wish and pray that his life would part, Nor yet find leave to die.' |