The Lady of the Lake Chapter 9: Part 9

must! it must! Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust, Her summons dread, brook no delay; Stretch to the race,--away! away! XXII. Yet slow he laid his plaid aside, And lingering eyed his lovely bride, Until he saw the starting tear Speak woe he might not stop to cheer: Then, trusting not a second look, In haste he sped hind up the brook, Nor backward glanced till on the heath Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith,-- What in the racer's bosom stirred? The sickening pang of hope deferred, And memory with a torturing train Of all his morning visions vain. Mingled with love's impatience, came The manly thirst for martial fame; The stormy joy of mountaineers Ere yet they rush upon the spears; And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning, And hope, from well-fought field returning, With war's red honors on his crest, To clasp his Mary to his breast. Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae, Like fire from flint he glanced away, While high resolve and feeling strong Burst into voluntary song. XXIII. Song. The heath this night must be my bed, The bracken curtain for my head, My lullaby the warder's tread, Far, far, from love and thee, Mary; To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, My couch may be my bloody plaid, My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid! It will not waken me, Mary! I may not, dare not, fancy now The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, I dare not think upon thy vow, And all it promised me, Mary. No fond regret must Norman know; When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, His heart must be like bended bow, His foot like arrow free, Mary. A time will come with feeling fraught, For, if I fall in battle fought, Thy hapless lover's dying thought Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. And if returned from conquered foes, How blithely will the evening close, How sweet the linnet sing repose, To my young bride and me, Mary! XXIV. Not faster o'er thy heathery braes Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, Rushing in conflagration strong Thy deep ravines and dells along, Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, And reddening the dark lakes below; Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. The signal roused to martial coil The sullen margin of Loch Voil, Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course; Thence southward turned its rapid road Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad Till rose in arms each man might claim A portion in Clan-Alpine's name, From the gray sire, whose trembling hand Could hardly buckle on his brand, To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow Were yet scarce terror to the crow. Each valley, each sequestered glen, Mustered its little horde of men That met as torrents from the height In Highland dales their streams unite Still gathering, as they pour along, A voice more loud, a tide more strong, Till at the rendezvous they stood By hundreds prompt for blows and blood, Each trained to arms since life began, Owning no tie but to his clan, No oath but by his chieftain's hand, No law but Roderick Dhu's command. XXV. That summer morn had Roderick Dhu Surveyed the skirts of Benvenue, And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath, To view the frontiers of Menteith. All backward came with news of truce; Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce, In Rednock courts no horsemen wait, No banner waved on Cardross gate, On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, Nor scared the herons from Loch Con; All seemed at peace.--Now wot ye wily The Chieftain with such anxious eye, Ere to the muster he repair, This western frontier scanned with care?-- In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, A fair though cruel pledge was left; For Douglas, to his promise true, That morning from the isle withdrew, And in a deep sequestered dell Had sought a low and lonely cell. By many a bard in Celtic tongue Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung A softer name the Saxons gave, And called the grot the Goblin Cave. XXVI. It was a wild and strange retreat, As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. The dell, upon the mountain's crest, Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast; Its trench had stayed full many a rock, Hurled by primeval earthquake shock From Benvenue's gray summit wild, And here, in random ruin piled, They frowned incumbent o'er the spot And formed the rugged sylvan "rot. The oak and birch with mingled shade At noontide there a twilight made, Unless when short and sudden shone Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, With such a glimpse as prophet's eye Gains on thy depth, Futurity. No murmur waked the solemn still, Save tinkling of a fountain rill; But when the wind chafed with the lake, A sullen sound would upward break, With dashing hollow voice, that spoke The incessant war of wave and rock. Suspended cliffs with hideous sway Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray. From such a den the wolf had sprung, In such the wild-cat leaves her young; Yet Douglas and his daughter fair Sought for a space their safety there. Gray Superstition's whisper dread Debarred the spot to vulgar tread; For there, she said, did fays resort, And satyrs hold their sylvan court, By moonlight tread their mystic maze, And blast the rash beholder's gaze. XXVII. Now eve, with western shadows long, Floated on Katrine bright and strong, When Roderick with a chosen few Repassed the heights of Benvenue. Above the Goblin Cave they go, Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo; The prompt retainers speed before, To launch the shallop from the shore, For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way To view the passes of Achray, And place his clansmen in array. Yet lags the Chief in musing mind, Unwonted sight, his men behind. A single page, to bear his sword, Alone attended on his lord; The rest their way through thickets break, And soon await him by the lake. It was a fair and gallant sight To view them from the neighboring height, By the low-levelled sunbeam's light! For strength and stature, from the clan Each warrior was a chosen man, As even afar might well be seen, By their proud step and martial mien. Their feathers dance, their tartars float, Their targets gleam, as by the boat A wild and warlike group they stand, That well became such mountain-strand. XXVI Their Chief with step reluctant still Was lingering on the craggy hill, Hard by where turned apart the road To Douglas's obscure abode. It was but with that dawning morn That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn To drown his love in war's wild roar, Nor think of Ellen Douglas more; But he who stems a stream with sand, And fetters flame with flaxen band, Has yet a harder task to prove,-- By firm resolve to conquer love! Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, Still hovering near his treasure lost; For though his haughty heart deny A parting meeting to his eye Still fondly strains his anxious ear The accents of her voice to hear, And inly did he curse the breeze That waked to sound the rustling trees. But hark! what mingles in the strain? It is the harp of Allan-bane, That wakes its measure slow and high, Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. What melting voice attends the strings? 'Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings. XXIX. Hymn to the Virgin. Ave. Maria! maiden mild! Listen to a maiden's prayer! Thou canst hear though from the wild, Thou canst save amid despair. Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, Though banished, outcast, and reviled-- Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer; Mother, hear a suppliant child! Ave Maria! Ave Maria! undefiled! The flinty couch we now must share Shall seem with down of eider piled, If thy protection hover there. The murky cavern's heavy air Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled; Then, Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer, Mother, list a suppliant child! Ave Maria! Ave. Maria! stainless styled! Foul demons of the earth and air, From this their wonted haunt exiled, Shall flee before thy presence fair. We bow us to our lot of care, Beneath thy guidance reconciled: Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, And for a father hear a child! Ave Maria! XXX. Died on the harp the closing hymn,-- Unmoved in attitude and limb, As listening still, Clan-Alpine's lord Stood leaning on his heavy sword, Until the page with humble sign Twice pointed to the sun's decline. Then while his plaid he round him cast, 'It is the last time--'tis the last,' He muttered thrice,--'the last time e'er That angel-voice shall Roderick hear'' It was a goading thought,--his stride Hied hastier down the mountain-side; Sullen he flung him in the boat An instant 'cross the lake it shot. They landed in that silvery bay, And eastward held their hasty way Till, with the latest beams of light, The band arrived on Lanrick height' Where mustered in the vale below Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. XXXI. A various scene the clansmen made: Some sat, some stood, some slowly strayed: But most, with mantles folded round, Were couched to rest upon the ground, Scarce to be known by curious eye From the deep heather where they lie, So well was matched the tartan screen With heath-bell dark and brackens green; Unless where, here and there, a blade Or lance's point a glimmer made, Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. But when, advancing through the gloom, They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume, Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide, Shook the steep mountain's steady side. Thrice it arose, and lake and fell Three times returned the martial yell; It died upon Bochastle's plain, And Silence claimed her evening reign. CANTO FOURTH. The Prophecy. I. The rose is fairest when 't is budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears. O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, Emblem of hope and love through future years!' Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. II. Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, His axe and bow beside him lay, For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood A wakeful sentinel he stood. Hark!--on the rock a footstep rung, And instant to his arms he sprung. 'Stand, or thou diest!--What, Malise?--soon Art thou returned from Braes of Doune. By thy keen step and glance I know, Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe.'-- For while the Fiery Cross tried on,