The Lady of the Lake Chapter 15: Part 15

There thought upon their own gray tower, Their waving woods, their feudal power, And deemed themselves a shameful part Of pageant which they cursed in heart. XXII. Now, in the Castle-park, drew out Their checkered bands the joyous rout. There morricers, with bell at heel And blade in hand, their mazes wheel; But chief, beside the butts, there stand Bold Robin Hood and all his band,-- Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl, Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone, Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John; Their bugles challenge all that will, In archery to prove their skill. The Douglas bent a bow of might,-- His first shaft centred in the white, And when in turn he shot again, His second split the first in twain. From the King's hand must Douglas take A silver dart, the archers' stake; Fondly he watched, with watery eye, Some answering glance of sympathy,-- No kind emotion made reply! Indifferent as to archer wight, The monarch gave the arrow bright. XXIII. Now, clear the ring! for, hand to hand, The manly wrestlers take their stand. Two o'er the rest superior rose, And proud demanded mightier foes,-- Nor called in vain, for Douglas came.-- For life is Hugh of Larbert lame; Scarce better John of Alloa's fare, Whom senseless home his comrades bare. Prize of the wrestling match, the King To Douglas gave a golden ring, While coldly glanced his eye of blue, As frozen drop of wintry dew. Douglas would speak, but in his breast His struggling soul his words suppressed; Indignant then he turned him where Their arms the brawny yeomen bare, To hurl the massive bar in air. When each his utmost strength had shown, The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone From its deep bed, then heaved it high, And sent the fragment through the sky A rood beyond the farthest mark; And still in Stirling's royal park, The gray-haired sires, who know the past, To strangers point the Douglas cast, And moralize on the decay Of Scottish strength in modern day. XXIV. The vale with loud applauses rang, The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang. The King, with look unmoved, bestowed A purse well filled with pieces broad. Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, And threw the gold among the crowd, Who now with anxious wonder scan, And sharper glance, the dark gray man; Till whispers rose among the throng, That heart so free, and hand so strong, Must to the Douglas blood belong. The old men marked and shook the head, To see his hair with silver spread, And winked aside, and told each son Of feats upon the English done, Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand Was exiled from his native land. The women praised his stately form, Though wrecked by many a winter's storm; The youth with awe and wonder saw His strength surpassing Nature's law. Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd Till murmurs rose to clamours loud. But not a glance from that proud ring Of peers who circled round the King With Douglas held communion kind, Or called the banished man to mind; No, not from those who at the chase Once held his side the honoured place, Begirt his board, and in the field Found safety underneath his shield; For he whom royal eyes disown, When was his form to courtiers known! XXV. The Monarch saw the gambols flag And bade let loose a gallant stag, Whose pride, the holiday to crown, Two favorite greyhounds should pull down, That venison free and Bourdeaux wine Might serve the archery to dine. But Lufra,--whom from Douglas' side Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide, The fleetest hound in all the North,-- Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. She left the royal hounds midway, And dashing on the antlered prey, Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank, And deep the flowing life-blood drank. The King's stout huntsman saw the sport By strange intruder broken short, Came up, and with his leash unbound In anger struck the noble hound. The Douglas had endured, that morn, The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, And last, and worst to spirit proud, Had borne the pity of the crowd; But Lufra had been fondly bred, To share his board, to watch his bed, And oft would Ellen Lufra's neck In maiden glee with garlands deck; They were such playmates that with name Of Lufra Ellen's image came. His stifled wrath is brimming high, In darkened brow and flashing eye; As waves before the bark divide, The crowd gave way before his stride; Needs but a buffet and no more, The groom lies senseless in his gore. Such blow no other hand could deal, Though gauntleted in glove of steel. XXVI. Then clamored loud the royal train, And brandished swords and staves amain, But stern the Baron's warning: 'Back! Back, on your lives, ye menial pack! Beware the Douglas.--Yes! behold, King James! The Douglas, doomed of old, And vainly sought for near and far, A victim to atone the war, A willing victim, now attends, Nor craves thy grace but for his friends.--' 'Thus is my clemency repaid? Presumptuous Lord!' the Monarch said: 'Of thy misproud ambitious clan, Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, The only man, in whom a foe My woman-mercy would not know; But shall a Monarch's presence brook Injurious blow and haughty look?-- What ho! the Captain of our Guard! Give the offender fitting ward.-- Break off the sports!'--for tumult rose, And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, 'Break off the sports!' he said and frowned, 'And bid our horsemen clear the ground.' XXVII. Then uproar wild and misarray Marred the fair form of festal day. The horsemen pricked among the crowd, Repelled by threats and insult loud; To earth are borne the old and weak, The timorous fly, the women shriek; With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, The hardier urge tumultuous war. At once round Douglas darkly sweep The royal spears in circle deep, And slowly scale the pathway steep, While on the rear in thunder pour The rabble with disordered roar With grief the noble Douglas saw The Commons rise against the law, And to the leading soldier said: 'Sir John of Hyndford, 'twas my blade That knighthood on thy shoulder laid; For that good deed permit me then A word with these misguided men.-- XXVIII, 'Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me Ye break the bands of fealty. My life, my honour, and my cause, I tender free to Scotland's laws. Are these so weak as must require 'Fine aid of your misguided ire? Or if I suffer causeless wrong, Is then my selfish rage so strong, My sense of public weal so low, That, for mean vengeance on a foe, Those cords of love I should unbind Which knit my country and my kind? O no! Believe, in yonder tower It will not soothe my captive hour, To know those spears our foes should dread For me in kindred gore are red: 'To know, in fruitless brawl begun, For me that mother wails her son, For me that widow's mate expires, For me that orphans weep their sires, That patriots mourn insulted laws, And curse the Douglas for the cause. O let your patience ward such ill, And keep your right to love me still!' XXIX. The crowd's wild fury sunk again In tears, as tempests melt in rain. With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed For blessings on his generous head Who for his country felt alone, And prized her blood beyond his own. Old men upon the verge of life Blessed him who stayed the civil strife; And mothers held their babes on high, The self-devoted Chief to spy, Triumphant over wrongs and ire, To whom the prattlers owed a sire. Even the rough soldier's heart was moved; As if behind some bier beloved, With trailing arms and drooping head, The Douglas up the hill he led, And at the Castle's battled verge, With sighs resigned his honoured charge. XXX. The offended Monarch rode apart, With bitter thought and swelling heart, And would not now vouchsafe again Through Stirling streets to lead his train. 'O Lennox, who would wish to rule This changeling crowd, this common fool? Hear'st thou,' he said, 'the loud acclaim With which they shout the Douglas name? With like acclaim the vulgar throat Strained for King James their morning note; With like acclaim they hailed the day When first I broke the Douglas sway; And like acclaim would Douglas greet If he could hurl me from my seat. Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain? Vain as the leaf upon the stream, And fickle as a changeful dream; Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood. Thou many-headed monster-thing, O who would wish to be thy king?-- XXXI.. 'But soft! what messenger of speed Spurs hitherward his panting steed? I guess his cognizance afar-- What from our cousin, John of Mar?' 'He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound Within the safe and guarded ground; For some foul purpose yet unknown,-- Most sure for evil to the throne,-- The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, Has summoned his rebellious crew; 'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid These loose banditti stand arrayed. The Earl of Mar this morn from Doune To break their muster marched, and soon Your Grace will hear of battle fought; But earnestly the Earl besought, Till for such danger he provide, With scanty train you will not ride.' XXXII. 'Thou warn'st me I have done amiss,-- I should have earlier looked to this; I lost it in this bustling day.-- Retrace with speed thy former way; Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, The best of mine shall be thy meed. Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, We do forbid the intended war; Roderick this morn in single fight Was made our prisoner by a knight, And Douglas hath himself and cause Submitted to our kingdom's laws. The tidings of their leaders lost Will soon dissolve the mountain host, Nor would we that the vulgar feel, For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. Bear Mar our message, Braco, fly!' He turned his steed,--'My liege, I hie, Yet ere I cross this lily lawn I fear the broadswords will be drawn.' The turf the flying courser spurned, And to his towers the King returned. XXXIII. Ill with King James's mood that day Suited gay feast and minstrel lay; Soon were dismissed the courtly throng, And soon cut short the festal song. Nor less upon the saddened town The evening sunk in sorrow down. The burghers spoke of civil jar, Of rumoured feuds and mountain war, Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu,