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 honor's laws:
To assail a wearied man were shame,
And 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 ward,
Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,
As far as Coilantogle's ford;
From 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 spread his 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.
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,
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 gray.
'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!
At length, they came where, stern and steep
The hill sinks down upon the deep;
So toilsome was the road to trace,
The guide, abating of his pace,
Led slowly through the pass's jaws,
And asked Fitz-James by what strange cause
He sought these wilds,-traversed by few,
Without a pass from Roderick Dhu?
"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,
* The Scottish Highlander calls himself Gael, and terms the Low lander, Saxon.
All seemed as peaceful, and as still,
As the mist slumbering on yon 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!
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 maid:
Or, if a path be dangerous known,
The danger's self is lure alone."
"Thy secret keep; I urge thee not; Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, Say, heard ye naught 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 flung !—as free shall wave Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave. But, stranger, peaceful since you came, Bewildered in the mountain game,
Whence the bold boast by which you
Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe ?"
"Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew
Naught of thy chieftain, Roderick Dhu,
Save as an exiled, 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.”
A space he paused, then sternly said, "And heardst thou why he drew his blade? Heardst thou that shameful word and blow Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe? What recked 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!"
"But then thy chieftain's robber lifeWinning mean prey by causeless strife, Wrenching from ruined lowland swain His herds and harvests reared in vainMethinks a soul like thine should scorn The spoils from such foul foray borne !"
The Gael beheld him grim the while,
And answered with disdainful smile,-
"Saxon, from yonder mountain high,
I marked thee send delighted eye
Far to the south and east, where lay,
Extended in succession gay,
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.
Where live the mountain chiefs who hold
That plundering lowland field and fold
Is aught but retribution due?
Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu."
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:
Hadst thou sent warning fair and true,-
I seek my hound, or falcon strayed,
I seek, good faith, a highland maid,—
Free hadst thou been to come and go;
But secret path marks secret foe.
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