Yes, sweep they on!-But with that skiff

Abides the minstrel tale, Where there was dread of surge and cliff,

Labour that strain'd each sinew stiff,! And one sad Maiden's wail.

XVIII.

All day with fruitless strife they toil'd, With eve the ebbing currents boil'd

More fierce from strait and lake; And midway through the channel met Conflicting tides that foam and fret, And high their mingled billows jet, As spears, that, in the battle set,

Spring upward as they break. Then, too, the lights of eve were past, And louder sung the western blast On rocks of Inninmore;

Rent was the sail, and strain'd the mast,

And many a leak was gaping fast, And the pale steersman stood aghast, And gave the conflict o'er.

XIX.

'Twas then that One, whose lofty look Nor labour dull'd nor terror shook, Thus to the Leader spoke : 'Brother, how hopest thou to abide The fury of this wilder'd tide, Or how avoid the rock's rude side,

Until the day has broke? Didst thou not mark the vessel reel, With quivering planks, and groaning keel,

At the last billow's shock?
Yet how of better counsel tell,
Though here thou see'st poor Isabel

Half dead with want and fear;
For look on sea, or look on land,
Or yon dark sky-on every hand
Despair and death are near.
For her alone I grieve-on me
Danger sits light by land and sea,
I follow where thou wilt;

Either to bide the tempest's lour,
Or wend to yon unfriendly tower,
Or rush amid their naval power,
With war-cry wake their wassail-
hour,

And die with hand on hilt.'

XX.

That elder Leader's calm reply

In steady voice was given, 'In man's most dark extremity

Oft succour dawns from Heaven. Edward, trim thou the shatter'd sail, The helm be mine, and down the gale

Let our free course be driven; So shall we 'scape the western bay, The hostile fleet, the unequal fray, So safely hold our vessel's way

Beneath the Castle wall;

For if a hope of safety rest, 'Tis on the sacred name of guest, Who seeks for shelter, storm-distress'd,

Within a chieftain's hall.

If not-it best beseems our worth, Our name, our right, our lofty birth, By noble hands to fall.'

XXI.

The helm, to his strong arm consign'd,
Gave the reef'd sail to meet the wind,
And on her alter'd way,
Fierce bounding, forward sprung the
ship,

Like greyhound starting from the slip
To seize his flying prey.
Awaked before the rushing prow,
The mimic fires of ocean glow,

Those lightnings of the wave;
Wild sparkles crest the broken tides,
And, flashing round, the vessel's sides
With elvish lustre lave,
While, far behind, their livid light
To the dark billows of the night
A gloomy splendour gave,

P

It seems as if old Ocean shakes
From his dark brow the lucid flakes
In envious pageantry,
To match the meteor-light that streaks
Grim Hecla's midnight sky.

XXII.

Nor lack'd they steadier light to keep Their course upon the darken'd deep; Artornish, on her frowning steep

'Twixt cloud and ocean hung, Glanced with a thousand lights of glee, And landward far, and far to sea,

Her festal radiance flung. By that blithe beacon-light they steer'd, Whose lustre mingled well With the pale beam that now appear'd, As the cold moon her head uprear'd Above the eastern fell.

XXIII.

Thus guided, on their course they bore, Until they near'd the mainland shore, When frequent on the hollow blast Wild shouts of merriment were cast, And wind and wave and sea-birds'

cry

With wassail sounds in concert vie, Like funeral shrieks with revelry,

Or like the battle-shout

By peasants heard from cliffs on high,
When Triumph, Rage, and Agony,
Madden the fight and rout.
Now nearer yet, through mist and
storm,

Dimly arose the Castle's form,

And deepen'd shadow made, Far lengthen'd on the main below, Where, dancing in reflected glow,

A hundred torches play'd, Spangling the wave with lights as vain As pleasures in this vale of pain, That dazzle as they fade.

XXIV.

Beneath the Castle's sheltering lee, They staid their course in quiet sea.

Hewn in the rock, a passage there
Sought the dark fortress by a stair,

So straight, so high, so steep, With peasant's staff one valiant hand Might well the dizzy pass have mann'd, 'Gainst hundreds arm'd with spear and brand,

And plunged them in the deep. His bugle then the helmsman wound; Loud answer'd every echo round,

From turret, rock, and bay; The postern's hinges crash and groan, And soon the Warder's cresset shone On those rude steps of slippery stone,

To light the upward way. 'Thrice welcome, holy Sire!' he said; Full long the spousal train have staid, And, vex'd at thy delay, Fear'd lest, amidst these wildering seas,

The darksome night and freshening breeze

Had driven thy bark astray.'

XXV.

'Warder,' the younger stranger said, 'Thine erring guess some mirth had made

In mirthful hour; but nights like these, When the rough winds wake western seas,

Brook not of glee. We crave some aid
And needful shelter for this maid
Until the break of day;
For, to ourselves, the deck's rude plank
Is easy as the mossy bank

That's breath'd upon by May. And for our storm-toss'd skiff we seek

Short shelter in this leeward creek, Prompt when the dawn the east shall streak

Again to bear away.' Answered the Warder,- In what

name

Assert ye hospitable claim?

Whence come, or whither bound?

Hath Erin seen your parting sails?
Or come ye on Norweyan gales?
And seek ye England's fertile vales,
Or Scotland's mountain ground?'

XXVI.

'Warriors-for other title none
For some brief space we list to own,
Bound by a vow-warriors are we;
In strife by land, and storm by sea,

We have been known to fame; And these brief words have import dear,

When sounded in a noble ear,
To harbour safe, and friendly cheer,

That gives us rightful claim.
Grant us the trivial boon we seek,
And we in other realms will speak

Fair of your courtesy ; Deny-and be your niggard Hold Scorn'd by the noble and the bold, Shunn'd by the pilgrim on the wold, And wanderer on the lea!'

No bolt revolves by hand of mine; Though urged in tone that more express'd

A monarch than a suppliant guest.
Be what ye will, Artornish Hall
On this glad eve is free to all.

Though ye had drawn a hostile sword

'Gainst our ally, great England's Lord,
Or mail upon your shoulders borne
To battle with the Lord of Lorn,
Or, outlaw'd, dwelt by greenwood tree
With the fierce Knight of Ellerslie,
Or aided even the murderous strife
When Comyn fell beneath the knife
Of that fell homicide The Bruce,
This night had been a term of truce.
Ho, vassals! give these guests your

care,

And show the narrow postern stair.'

XXVIII.

To land these two bold brethren leapt (The weary crew their vessel kept) And, lighted by the torches' flare, That seaward flung their smoky glare, The younger knight that maiden bare Half lifeless up the rock;

On his strong shoulder lean'd her head,

And down her long dark tresses shed, As the wild vine in tendrils spread,

Droops from the mountain oak. Him follow'd close that elder Lord, And in his hand a sheathed sword,

Such as few arms could wield; But when he boun'd him to such task, Well could it cleave the strongest casque,

And rend the surest shield.

XXIX.

The raised portcullis' arch they pass, The wicket with its bars of brass, The entrance long and low, Flank'd at each turn by loop-holes strait,

Where bowmen might in ambush wait (If force or fraud should burst the gate,

To gall an entering foe. But every jealous post of ward Was now defenceless and unbarr'd,

And all the passage free

To one low-brow'd and vaulted room. Where squire and yeoman, page and groom,

Plied their loud revelry.

XXX.

And 'Rest ye here,' the Warder bade, 'Till to our Lord your suit is said. And, comrades, gaze not on the maid, And on these men who ask our aid,

As if ye ne'er had seen

A damsel tired of midnight bark,
Or wanderers of a moulding stark,
And bearing martial mien.'

But not for Eachin's reproof
Would page or vassal stand aloof,

But crowded on to stare,
As men of courtesy untaught,
Till fiery Edward roughly caught

From one, the foremost there, His chequer'd plaid, and in its shroud, To hide her from the vulgar crowd, Involved his sister fair.

His brother, as the clansman bent
His sullen brow in discontent,

Made brief and stern excuse ;— 'Vassal, were thine the cloak of pall That decks thy Lord in bridal hall, 'Twere honour'd by her use.'

XXXI.

Proud was his tone, but calm; his eye
Had that compelling dignity,
His mien that bearing haught and
high,

Which common spirits fear; Needed nor word nor signal more, Nod, wink, and laughter, all were o'er;

Upon each other back they bore,

And gazed like startled deer. But now appear'd the Seneschal, Commission'd by his lord to call The strangers to the Baron's hall,

Where feasted fair and free That Island Prince in nuptial tide, With Edith there his lovely bride, And her bold brother by her side, And many a chief, the flower and pride

Of Western land and sea.

Here pause we, gentles, for a space; And, if our tale hath won your grace, Grant us brief patience, and again We will renew the minstrel strain.

Canto Second.

I.

FILL the bright goblet, spread the festive board!

Summon the gay, the noble, and the fair!

Through the loud hall in joyous concert pour'd

Let mirth and music sound the dirge of Care!

But ask thou not if Happiness be there,

If the loud laugh disguise convulsive throe,

Or if the brow the heart's true livery wear;

Lift not the festal mask!-enough to know,

No scene of mortal life but teems with mortal woe.

II.

With beakers' clang, with harpers' lay,
With all that olden time deem'd gay,
The Island Chieftain feasted high;
But there was in his troubled eye
A gloomy fire, and on his brow
Now sudden flush'd, and faded now,
Emotions such as draw their birth
From deeper source than festal mirth.
By fits he paused, and harper's strain
And jester's tale went round in vain,
Or fell but on his idle ear

Like distant sounds which dreamers hear.

Then would he rouse him, and employ Each art to aid the clamorous joy,

And call for pledge and lay, And, for brief space, of all the crowd, As he was loudest of the loud, Seem gayest of the gay.

III.

Yet nought amiss the bridal throng Mark'd in brief mirth, or musing long; The vacant brow, the unlistening car,

near,

And his fierce starts of sudden glee
Seem'd bursts of bridegroom's ecstasy.
Nor thus alone misjudged the crowd,
Since lofty Lorn, suspicious, proud,
And jealous of his honour'd line,
And that keen knight, De Argentine,
(From England sent on errand high,
The western league more firm to tie,)
Both deem'd in Ronald's mood to find
A lover's transport-troubled mind.
But one sad heart, one tearful eye,
Pierced deeper through the mystery,
And watch'd, with agony and fear,
Her wayward bridegroom's varied
cheer.

IV.

She watch'd, yet fear'd to meet his

glance,

'Brother of Lorn,' with hurried voice
He said, 'And you, fair lords, rejoice!
Here, to augment our glee,
Come wandering knights from traveltar,
Well proved, they say, in strife of war,
And tempest on the sea.

Ho give them at your board such place

chance

They met, the point of foeman's lance
Had given a milder pang!
Beneath the intolerable smart
He writhed, then sternly mann'd his
heart

To play his hard but destined part,
And from the table sprang.
'Fill me the mighty cup!' he said,
'Erst own'd by royal Somerled;
Fill it, till on the studded brim
In burning gold the bubbles swim,
And every gem of varied shine
Glow doubly bright in rosy wine!
To you, brave lord, and brother mine
Of Lorn, this pledge I drink--
The union of Our House with thine,
By this fair bridal-link!'

V.

'Let it pass round!' quoth He of Lorn, And in good time; that winded horn Must of the Abbot tell;

The laggard monk is come at last.'
Lord Ronald heard the bugle-blast,

And bid them welcome free!' With solemn step, and silver wand, The Seneschal the presence scann'd Of these strange guests; and well he knew

How to assign their rank its due;
For though the costly furs
That erst had deck'd their caps were
torn,

And their gay robes were overworn,
And soil'd their gilded spurs,
Yet such a high commanding grace
Was in their mien and in their face,
As suited best the princely dais,
And royal canopy ;

And there he marshall'd them their place,

First of that company.

VII.

Then lords and ladies spake aside, And angry looks the error chide, That gave to guests unnamed, unknown,

A place so near their prince's throne; But Owen Erraught said,