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 smiled;

By this soft hand to lead thee far
From frantic scenes of feud and war.
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'-
'O! hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art,
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 back,
In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track;
And how, O how, can I atone
The wreck my vanity brought on!
One way remains-I'll tell him all ;
Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall!
Thou, whose light folly bears the blame,
Buy thine own pardon with thy shame!
But first, my father is a man
Outlaw'd and exiled under ban;
The price of blood is on his head;
With me 'twere infamy to wed.

·

doom,

And she sat sorrowing on his tomb.
Hope vanish'd from Fitz-James's eye,
But not with hope fled sympathy.
He proffer'd to attend her side,
As brother would a sister guide.

O little know'st thou Roderick's heart!

Safer for both we go apart.

O 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 cross'd his
brain,

He paused, and turn'd, and came again.

Whose 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.'
He placed the golden circlet on,
Paused, kiss'd her hand, and then was
gone.

The aged Minstrel stood aghast,
So hastily Fitz-James shot past.
He join'd his guide, and wending down
The ridges of the mountain brown,
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 whoop'd loud and

high

'Murdoch! was that a signal cry?' He stammer'd forth, 'I shout to scare Yon raven from his dainty fare.' He look'd, he knew the raven's preyHis own brave steed :- Ah! gallant grey !

For thee, for me perchance, 'twere well 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.

XXI.

Now wound the path its dizzy ledge
Around a precipice's edge,
When lo! a wasted female form,
Blighted by wrath of sun and storm,
In tatter'd weeds and wild array,
Stood on a cliff beside the way,
And glancing round her restless eye,
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,

Seem'd nought to mark, yet all to

spy.

Her brow was wreath'd with gaudy broom;

With gesture wild she waved a plume
Of feathers, which the eagles fling
To crag and cliff from dusky wing ;
Such spoils her desperate step had
sought,

Where scarce was footing for the goat.
The tartan plaid she first descried,
And shriek'd till all the rocks replied;
As loud she laugh'd 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 chime; And now, though strain'd and roughen'd, still

Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill:

XXII.

SONG.

'They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, They say my brain is warp'd and

wrung;

I 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 wintry day!

"Twas thus my hair they bade me braid, They made me to the church repair; It was my bridal morn, they said,

And my true love would meet me
there.

But woe betide the cruel guile,
That drown'd in blood the morning

smile!

And woe betide the fairy dream!

I only waked to sob and scream.'

XXIII.

'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 foray'd Devan-side.
The gay bridegroom resistance made,
And feltour Chief's unconquer'd 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,
I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far
As ever peasant pitch'd a bar!'
'Thanks, champion, thanks!' the
maniac cried,

And press'd her to Fitz-James's side;
'See the grey pennons I prepare
To seek my true-love through the air!
I will not lend that savage groom,
To break his fall, one downy plume!
No! deep amid disjointed stones,
The wolves shall batten on his bones,
And then shall his detested plaid,
By bush and brier in mid-air staid,
Wave forth a banner fair and free,
Meet signal for their revelry.'

His coat it was all of the greenwood
hue,

And so blithely he trill'd the
Lowland lay!

'It was not that I meant to tell
But 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 fix'd her apprehensive eye;
Then turn'd it on the Knight, and then
Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen.

XXV.

'The toils are pitch'd, and the stakes are set,

Ever sing merrily, merrily; The bows they bend, and the knives they whet,

Hunters live so cheerily.

'It was a stag, a stag of ten,

Bearing its branches sturdily; He came stately down the glen, Ever sing hardily, hardily.

'It was there he met with a wounded doe,

She was bleeding deathfully; She warn'd him of the toils below, O, 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.'

XXVI.

Fitz-James's mind was passion-toss'd, When 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,

He waved at once his blade on high, 'Disclose thy treachery, or die!'

Forth at full speed the Clansman flew,
But in his race his bow he drew.
The shaft just grazed Fitz-James'screst,
And thrill'd in Blanche's faded breast!

Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed,
For ne'er had Alpine's son such need!
With 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 couch'd upon the heathery moor;
Them couldst thou reach!-it may
not be-

It once was bright and clear as thine, But blood and tears have dimm'd its shine.

I will not tell thee when 'twas shred, Norfrom what guiltless victim's headMy 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. O God! more bright
Let reason beam her parting light!
O! by thy knighthood's honour'd sign,

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 fell. Avoid the path farewell.'

O God!..

XXVIII.

A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James;
Fast pour'd his eyes at pity's claims;
And now, with mingled grief and ire,
He saw the murder'd maid expire.
'God, in my need, be my relief,
As I wreak this on yonder Chief!'
A lock from Blanche's tresses fair
Heblended with her bridegroom's hair;
The mingled braid in blood he dyed,
And placed it on his bonnet-side:
'By Him whose word is truth! I swear,
No other favour will I wear,
Till this sad token I imbrue
In the best blood of Roderick Dhu!
But hark! what means yon faint halloo?
The chase is up; but they shall know,
The stag at bay's a dangerous foe.'

must stray,

And oft mustchange his desperate track,
By stream and precipice turn'd 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 must prove the last!
Whoe'erso 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 out,-

Hark, to the whistle and the shout!
If farther through the wilds I go,
I only fall upon the foe:

I'll couch me here till evening grey,
Then darkling try my dangerous way.'

XXIX.

The shades of eve come slowly down,
The woods are wrapt 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,
Benumb'd his drenched limbs with
cold.

In dread, in danger, and alone, Famish'd and chill'd, through ways unknown,

Tangled and steep, he journey'd on; Till, as a rock's huge point he turn'd, A watch-fire close before him burn'd.

XXX.

Beside its embers red and clear, Bask'd in his plaid a mountaineer; And uphesprung with sword in hand,Thy name and purpose! Saxon,

stand!'

'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 chill'd my limbs with frost.' 'Art thou a friend to Roderick?' 'No.' Thou darest not call thyself a foe?' 'I dare to him and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand.' 'Bold words! but, though the beast of game

The privilege of chase may claim, Though space and law the stag we lend, Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, Whoeverreck'd, where, how, or when, The prowling fox was trapp'd or slain? Thus treacherous scouts,-yet sure they lie

Who say thou cam'st a secret spy!'
'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.'
'If by the blaze I mark aright,

Thou bear'st the belt and spur of
Knight.'

'Then by these tokens mayest thou know

Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.' 'Enough, enough; sit down and share A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.'

XXXI.

He gave him of his Highland cheer,
The harden'd 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 farther speech address'd: