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XIV.

* It was between the night and day, 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good green

When the Fairy King has power, wood,

That I sunk down in a sinful fray', Though the birds have still'd their And, 'twixt life and death, wassnatch'd singing;

away The evening blaze doth Alice raise,

To the joyless Elfin bower. And Richard is fagots bringing. But wist I of a woman bold, Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, Who thrice my brow durst sign,

Before Lord Richard stands, I might regain my mortal mold, And, as he cross'd and bless'd himself,

As fair a form as thine.' * I fear not sign,' quoth the grisly elf, She cross'd him once, she cross'd him * That is made with bloody hands.'

twice, But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, That lady was so brave;

That woman, void of fear, The fouler grew his goblin hue, * And if there's blood upon his hand,

The darker grew the cave. 'Tis but the blood of deer.'

She crossd him thrice, that lady bold; "Nowloud thou liest, thou bold ofmood! He rose beneath her hand It cleaves unto his hand,

The fairest knight on Scottish mold, The stain of thine own kindly blood, Her brother, Ethert Brand ! The blood of Ethert Brand.'

Merry it is in good greenwood, Then forward stepp'd she, Alice Brand,

When the mavis and merle are singAnd made the holy sign,

ing, Andif there'sbloodon Richard'shand, But merrier were they in Dunfermline A spotless hand is mine.

grey, "And I conjure thee, Demon elf, When all the bells were ringing.

By Him whom Demons fear,
To show us whence thou art thyself,
And what thine errand here?'

Just as the minstrel sounds were staid,
A stranger climb'd the steepy glade:

His martial step, his stately mien, ''Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, His hunting suit of Lincoln green, When fairy birds are singing,

His eagle glance remembrance claims : When the court doth ride by their 'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James monarch's side,

Fitz-James. With bit and bridle ringing:

Ellen beheld as in a dream,

Then, starting, scarce suppress'd a And gaily shines the Fairy-landBut all is glistening show,

O stranger! in such hour of fear, Like the idle gleam that December's

What evil hap has brought thee here?' beam

An evil hap how can it be, Can dart on ice and snow.

That bids me look again on thee? * And fading, like that varied gleam, By promise bound, my former guide Is our inconstant shape,

Met me betimes this morning tide, Who now like knight and lady scem, And marshall'd, over bank and bourne,

And now like dwarf and ape. The happy path of my return.'

XVI.

XV.

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XVIII.

XVII,

* The happy path :—what! said he Still wouldst thou speak? then hear nought

the truth! Of war, of battle to be fought,

Fitz-James, there is a noble youth, Of guarded pass ?' No, by my faith! If yet he is! exposed for me Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.' | And mine to dread extremity

O haste thee, Allan, to the kern, - Thou hast the secret of my heart; Yonder his tartans I discern;

Forgive, be generous, and depart: Learn thou his purpose, and conjure That he will guide the stranger sure! What prompted thee, unhappy man ? Fitz-James knew every wily train The meanest serf in Roderick's clan A lady's fickle heart to gain; Had not been bribed by love or fear, But here he knew and felt them vain. Unknown to him to guide thee here.' | There shot no glance from Ellen's eye,

To give her steadfast speech the lic;

In maiden confidence she stood, •Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, Though mantled in hercheck the blood, Since it is worthy care from thee; And told her love with such a sighi Yet life I hold but idle breath,

Of deep and hopeless agony'; When love or honour's weigh'd with As death had scald her Malcolm's death.

doom, Then let me profit by my chance, And she sat sorrowing on his toinb. And speak my purpose bold at once. Hope vanish'd from Fitz-James's eye, I come to bear thee from a wild, But not with hope fled sympathy. Where ne'er before such blossom He proffer'd to attend her side, siniled ;

As brother would a sister guide. By this soft hand to lead thee far 0! little know'st thou Roderick's From frantic scenes of feud and war.

heart! Near Bochastle my horses wait;

Safer for both we go apart. They bear us soon to Stirling gate. O haste thee, and from Allan learn, I'll place thee in a lovely bower, If thou may'st trust yon wily kern.' I'll guard thee like a tender flower - With hand upon his forehead laid, "O! hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art, The conflict of his mind to shade, To say I do not read thy heart; A parting step or two he inade; Too much, before, my selfish ear Then, as some thought had cross'd his Was idly soothed my praise to hear.

brain, That fatal bait hath lured thee back, He paused, and turn’d, and came again. In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track; And how, O how, can I atone The wreck my vanity brought on! 'Hear, lady, yet, a parting word! One way remains—I'll tell him all ; It chanced in fight that my poor sword Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall: Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, This ring the grateful Monarch gave, Buy thine own pardon with thy shame! And bade, when I had boon to crave, But first, my father is a man

To bring it back, and boldly claim Outlaw'd and exiled under ban; The recompense that I would name. The price of blood is on his head; Ellen, I am no courtly lord, With me 'twere infamy to wed. But one who lives by lance and sword,

XIX.

wave

Forth at full speed the Clansman flew, It once was bright and clear as thine,
But in his race his bow he drew. But blood and tears have dimm'd its
The shaft just grazed Fitz-James'screst, shine.
And thrill’d in Blanche's faded breast I will not tell thee when 'twas shred,
Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed, Norfrom what guiltless victim's head-
For ne'er had Alpine's son such need! My brain would turn !—but it shall
With heart of fire, and foot of wind,
The fierce avenger is behind !

Like plumage on thy helmet brave, Fate judges of the rapid strife

Till sun and wind shall bleach the The forfeit death-the prize is life!

stain, Thy kindred ambush lies before, And thou wilt bring it me again.Close couch'd upon the heathery moor; I waver still. O God! more bright Them couldst thou reach !-it may Let reason beam her parting light ! GZDO'YIBSATT||eɔ you isəjep noy.L,

O! by thy knighthood's honour'd sign,

Whoe'erso mad but might haveguess'd,

'Art thou a friend to Roderick?' 'No.' This frantic feat must prove the last !

Thegale has chill'd my limbs with frost,' Of all my rash adventures past,

My life's beset, my path is lost, And thought his toils and perils o'er :

Rest and a guide, and food and fire. He couch'd him in a thicket hoar,

quire?' From lack of food and loss of strength,

"A stranger.' What dost thou reHeartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,

stand!' By stream and precipice turn'd back.

‘Thy name and purpose! Saxon, Andoft mustchange his desperate track,

Anduphesprung with sword in hand, must stray, Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James Bask'd in his plaid a mountaineer ;

Beside its embers red and clear, way,

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Tay peacemur own, Iike protirers tried, T111 Ung turrets IIICIT T SKY, And slept until the dawning beam Then, sunk in copse, their farthest Purpled the mountain and the stream. glance

Gain'd not the length of horseman's

lance.

'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain Canto Fifth.

Assistance from the hand to gain ;
The Combat.

So tangled oft, that, bursting through,
Each hawthorn shed her showers of

I.

dew,Fair as the earliest beam of eastern That diamond dew, so pure and clear, light,

It rivals all but Beauty's tear.' When first, by the bewilderd pil

grim spied, It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, At length they came where, stern and And silvers o'er the torrent’sfoaming steep, tide,

The hill sinks down upon the deep.

III.

XVII.

* The happy path :—what! said he still wouldst thou speak? then hear nought

the truth! Of war, of battle to be fought, Fitz-James, there is a noble youth, Of guarded pass ?' *No, by my faith! If yet he is! exposed for me Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.' And minc to dread extremity--O haste thee, Allan, to the kern, Thou hast the secret of my heart; Yonder his tartans I discern;

Forgive, be generous, and depart :' Learn thou his purpose, and conjure That he will guide the stranger sure!

XVIII. What prompted thee, unhappy man? Fitz-James knew every wily train The meanest serf in Roderick's clan A lady's fickle heart to gain; Had not been bribed by love or fear, But here he knew and felt them vain. Unknown to him to guide thee here. There shot no glance from Ellen's eye,

To give her steadfast speech the lie;

In maiden confidence she stood, 'Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, Though mantled in hercheek the blood, Since it is worthy care from thee; And told her love with such a sigh Yet life I hold but idle breath, Of deep and hopeless agony, When love or honour's weigh'd with As death had scald her Malcolm's death.

doom, Then let me profit by my chance, And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. And speak my purpose bold at once. Hope vanish'd from Fitz-James's eye, I come to bear thee from a wild, But not with hope fled sympathy. Where ne'er before such blossom He proffer'd to attend her side, smiled;

As brother would a sister guide. By this soft hand to lead thee far .0! little know'st thou Roderick's From frantic scenes of feud and war.

heart ! Near Bochastle my horses wait; Safer for both we go apart. They bear us soon to Stirling gate. O haste thee, and from Allan learn, I'll place thee in a lovely bower, If thou may'st trust yon wily kern.' I'll guard thee like a tender flower' — With hand upon his forchead laid, "O! hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art, The conflict of his mind to shade, To say I do not read thy heart ; A parting step or two he made; Too much, before, my selfish car Then, as some thought had cross'd his Was idly soothed my praise to hear.

brain, That fatal bait hath lured thee back, Ile paused, and turn'd, and came again. In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track; And how, O how, can I atone The wreck my vanity brought on! 'Hear, lady, yet, a parting word! One way remains-I'll tell him all ; It chanced in fight that my poor sword Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall! | Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, This ring the grateful Monarch gave, Buy thine own pardon with thy shame! And bade, when I had boon to crave, But first, my father is a man

To bring it back, and boldly claim Outlaw'd and exiled under ban; The recompense that I would name. The price of blood is on his head; Ellen, I am no courtly lord, With me 'twere infamy to wed. But one who lives by lance and sword,

XIX.

Xx.

Whose castle is his helm and shield, Seem'd nought to mark, yet all to llis lordship the embattled field.

spy. What from a prince can I demand, Her brow was wreath'd with gaudy Who neither reck of state nor land ?

broom; Ellen, thy hand--the ring is thine; With gesture wild she waved a plume Each guard and usher knows the sign. Of feathers, which the eagles fling Seek thou the King without delay; To crag and cliff from dusky wing; This signet shall secure thy way; Such spoils her desperate step had And claim thy suit, whate'er it be,

sought, As ransom of his pledge to me.' Where scarce was footing for the goat. He placed the golden circlet on, The tartan plaid she first descried, Paused, kiss'd her hand, and then was And shriek'd till all the rocks replied; gone.

As loud she laugh'd when near they The aged Minstrel stood aghast,

drew, So hastily Fitz-James shot past. For then the Lowland garb she knew; lle join'd his guide, and wending down And then her hands she wildly wrung, The ridges of the mountain brown, And then she wept, and then she sung. Across the stream they took their way, She sung !-the voice, in better time, That joins Loch Katrine to Achray. Perchance to harp or lute might chime;

And now, though strain'd and rough

en'd, still All in the Trosachs' gien was still, Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill: Noontide was sleeping on the hill: Sudden his guide whoop'd loud and

XXII. high• Murdoch! was that a signal cry?'

SONG. He stammer'd forth, 'I shout to scare · They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, Yon raven from his dainty fare.'

They say my brain is warp'd and lle look’d, he knew the raven’s prey wrung ; Ilis own brave steed :-'Ah! gallant I cannot sleep on Highland brae,

I cannot pray in Highland tongue. For thee, for me perchance, 'twere well But were I now where Allan glides, We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. Or heard my native Devan's tides, Murdoch, move first-but silently; So sweetly would I rest, and pray Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!' That Heaven would close my wintry Jealous and sullen, on they fared,

day! Each silent, cach upon his guard.

''Twas thus my hair they bade me braid,

They made me to the church repair; Now wound the path its dizzy ledge It was my bridal morn, they said, Around a precipice's edge,

And my true love would meet me When lo! a wasted female form,

there. Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, But woe betide the cruel guile, In tatter'd weeds and wild array, That drown'd in blood the morning Stood on a cliff beside the way,

smile! And glancing round her restless cyc, And woe betide the fairy dream! Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, I only waked to sob and scream.'

grey !

XXI.

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