Class __ Book_ GoKyrightW_ "H ^Zo"^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. OF ENGLISH TEXTS GENERAL EDITOR HENRV VAN DYKE THE GATEWAY SERIES. HENRY VAN DYKE, General Editor. Shakesfkark's Merchant of Venice. Professor Felix E. Schelling, University oi Pennsylvania. Shakespeare's Julius C.'ESAr. Dr. Hamilton W. Mabie, " The Outlook." Shakespeare's Macbeth. Professor T. M, Parrott, Prince- ton University. Milton's Minor Poems. Professor Mary A. Jordan, Smith College. Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. Professor C. T. Winchester, Wesleyan University. Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield. Professor James A. Tufts, Phillips Exeter Academy. Burke's Speech on Conciliation. Professor William MacDonald, Brown University. Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner. Professor George E. Woodberry, Columbia University. Scott's Ivanhoe. Professor Francis H. Stoddard, New York University. Scott's Lady of the Lake. Professor R. M. Alden, Leland Stanford fr. University. Irving's Life of Goldsmith. Professor Martin Wright Sampson, University of Indiana. Macaulay's Milton. Rev. E. L. Gulick, Lawrenceville School. Macaulay's Addison. Professor Charles F. McClumpha, University of Minnesota. Macaulay's Life of Johnson. Professor J. S. Clark, North- western University. Carlyle'S Essay on Burns. Professor Edwin Mims, Trin- ity College, North Carolina. George Eliot's Silas Yale University. Tennyson's Princess. Wellesley College. Tennyson's Gareth Elaine, and The Dyke. Marner. Professor W. L. Cross, Professor Katharine Lee Bates, and Lynette, Lancelot and Passing of Arthur. Henry van -^^^rci^.^^^^^- ^^-C^ GATEWAY SERIES THE LADY OF THE LAKE BY SIR WALTER SCOTT EDITED BY RAYMOND MACDONALD ALDEN, Ph.D. ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE AND RHETORIC, LELAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY NEW YORK •:• CINCINNATI •:■ CHICAGO AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY '^'^S'2 0^ LIBRARY cf CONGRESS Two Copies Heceived NOV 16 1904 Copi/rienx tntiy «- XXc. Noi COPY B. Copyright, 1904, by AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY. Entered at Stationers' Hall, London. THE LADY OF THE LAKE. W. P. I PREFACE BY THE GENERAL EDITOR This series of books aims, first, to give the English texts required for entrance to college in a form which shall make them clear, interesting, and helpful to those who are beginning the study of literature ; and, second, to supply the knowledge which the student needs to pass the entrance examination. For these two reasons it is called The Gatetuay Series. The poems, plays, essays, and stories in these small volumes are treated, first of all, as works of literature, which were written to be read and enjoyed, not to be parsed and scanned and pulled to pieces. A short life of the author is given, and a portrait, in order to help the student to know the real person who wrote the book. The introduction tells what it is about, and how it was written, and where the author got the idea, and what it means. The notes at the foot of the page are simply to give the sense of the hard words so that the student can read straight on without turning to a dictionary. The other notes, at the end of the book, explain difficulties and allusions and fine points. 5 6 Preface by the General Editor The editors are chosen because of their thorough training and special fitness to deal with the books committed to them, and because they agree with this idea of what a Gateway Series ought to be. They express, in each case, their own views of the books which they edit. Simplicity, thoroughness, shortness, and clearness, — these, we hope, will be the marks of the series. HENRY VAN DYKE. PREFACE The Lady of the Lake should be read primarily for simple enjoyment, not for the study of history or geog- raphy. Knowledge of some historical and geographical details is, however, indispensable to the understanding of the story ; these, and nothing more, it has been the aim of the editor to supply in the notes. The student may well read the poem as rapidly as he can under- stand it. The map forming page 36 will be found to contain nearly all the geographical names mentioned in the text, and should be constantly used in connec- tion with the notes. Among the many editions of The Lady of the Lake, that of Dr. William J. Rolfe, in the Riverside Press series, is deserving of special mention. The present editor owes acknowledgment for assistance found in Dr. Rolfe 's careful work on the text of the poem, as well as in his notes on geographical details. R. M. A. Stanford University, California. CONTENTS PAGE Introduction : I. Life and Character of Scott II II. The Ladv of the Lake The Lady of the Lake Notes .... 27 37 235 INTRODUCTION I. Life and Character of Scott The author of The Lady of the Lake and the Waverley Novels is one of the most agreeable figures one can meet in making the acquaintance of the great names in our literature. He did not conceal his own personality behind his work, like Shakespeare and other dramatic poets, but showed his hearty and kindly nature in all that he wrote ; and he lived among friends who appreci- ated the importance of his work, so that we have in their records of his life and character as full an account of Scott as we could wish for. Indeed, the biography written by John G. Lockhart, his son-in-law, is commonly considered one of the best two biographies in the English language — Boswell's LJfe of Johnson, being the other. Every reader of Scott will wish sooner or later to make his acquaintance through this book ; for the present pur- pose we need only look rapidly at the outlines of his life, drawing ui)on Lockhart, of course, for most of the material. Walter Scott was the son of an Edinburgh lawyer, and was born in the Scotch capital on August 15, 1771. As a boy he was a bright, active youngster, entering heartily II 12 Introduction into all sports and outdoor exercises, in spite of the fact that from infancy he suffered from a lameness in one leg. The cheerfulness with which he met and largely over- came the disadvantages of this trouble, and the frankness with which he always spoke of it, contrast pleasantly with the sensitiveness and morbid regrets always shown by Lord Byron in connexion with his similar deformity. In his studies Scott diti not especially distinguish him- self, but he was always passionately fond of literature and history, and had an extraordinary memory which all through life enabled him to repeat, almost word for word, any part of his reading in which he had been particularly interested. An amusing story is told of him when only six years old, that he said to his aunt that he liked a certain Mrs. Cockburn who had been visiting the family, because she was a virtuoso like himself. " Walter," said his Aunt Jenny, "what is a virtuoso ?" "Why, it's one who wishes and will know everything." Another notice- able fact about his childhood was his fondness for the old Scotch and English ballads, especially those telling of the warring days of the " Border chivalry." Over these he would pore by the hour, and by the time he was twelve years old he had a collection of them, many of which he had picked up in pamphlet form at book-shops, amount- ing to several volumes. He has himself told us of the day when he first came across the Reliques of A?icieiit Poetry, edited by Dr. Percy, — the chief collection of the old ballads made in the eighteenth century. " I remem- ber well the spot where I read these volumes for the first Introduction 13 time. It was beneath a huge platanus tree, in the ruins of what had been intended for an old-fashioned arbour in the garden I have mentioned. The summer day sped onward so fast that, notwithstanding the sharp appetite of thirteen, I forgot the hour of dinner, was sought for with anxiety, and was still found entranced in my intel- lectual banquet. . . . Henceforth I overwhelmed my schoolfellows, and all who would hearken to me, with tragical recitations from the ballads." The importance of this lies in the fact that it was these old ballad stories which formed in a sense the models for Scott's poems of adventure. In like manner the romantic scenery of the Scotch lakes and mountains was full of poetic and historic inter- est for him. When he was taken to visit any of the bits of interesting country within easy reach of Edinburgh, he not only enjoyed its natural beauty for its own sake, but filled it in with the imaginary forms of the monks and knights, the fair ladies and the warriors, of the age of romance. Speaking again of the time when he was twelve or thirteen years old, he tells how his " romantic feelings " connected themselves with the landscape ; " and the his- torical incidents, or traditional legends connected with many of them, gave to my admiration a sort of intense impression of reverence, which at times made my heart feel too big for its bosom. From this time the love of natural beauty, more especially when combined with ancient ruins, or remains of our fathers' piety or splen- dour, became with me an insatiable passion." 14 Introduction And when he could not be in the country, or even in out- door sports, his imagination still did him good service. At the age of sixteen he was confined to his room by a long illness, and he relates how one of his amusements during this time was to call to mind the wars and battles of which he had read in history. These he worked out by the " expedient of arranging shells, and seeds, and peb- bles, so as to represent encountering armies. Diminu- tive crossbows were contrived to mimic artillery, and with the assistance of a friendly carpenter I contrived to model a fortress, which . . . represented whatever place happened to be uppermost in my imagination. I fought my way thus through Vertot's Knights of Malta, a book which, as it hovered between history and romance, was exceedingly dear to me." All through hfe Scott kept up his interest in military matters, and for a great part of his early manhood he was officer of a volunteer troop of cav- alry in which his good horsemanship gave him a promi- nent place, despite his lameness. One result of all this is that his writings excel in descriptions of mihtary affairs, his battles — whether in prose or verse — being among the liveliest and at the same time the clearest in literature. When he came of age, without waiting to complete a university course, Scott was admitted to the bar and began to practise law in his father's office and for him- self. But while he was by no means a failure in this pro- fession, he did not especially distinguish himself in it, and soon came to have more interest in literature. After a few years, when his success in poetry had — as he ex- Introduction S pressed it — made people suspicious of his qualities as a man of affairs, he quite ab^yidoned the practice of his profession ; but in i 799 he was made sheriff of Selkirk- shire, and in 1S06 one of the clerks of the Court of Ses- sion at Edinburgh — positions which he held for nearly the whole of his remaining life. For these offices, which brought him some ^1600 (:^Sooo) a year, his legal train- ing, of course, stood him in good stead ; it also furnished him no little useful material for his novels. Meantime, at the close of the }ear 1797, Scott was married. His first love had been a certain Williamina Stuart, whose family was considered to be above the rank of Scott's, so that the parents of both the young people appear to have thought the match undesirable. Miss Stuart eventually married a gentleman (later a baronet) who became a fast friend of Scott's. In the same year in which she was married, Scott met Miss Charlotte Char- pentier, or Carpenter, the daughter of a French Protestant refugee. " A lovelier vision," says Lockhart, " as all who remember her in the bloom of her days have assured me, could hardly have been imagined ; and from that hour the fate of the young poet was fixed." But notwith- standing the genuineness of his devotion to the lady who soon became his wife, Scott regarded it as something less passionate than that which he had felt during his " three years of dreaming " of Williamina Stuart. Long after his marriage he wrote to a friend : " Mrs. Scott's match and mine was of our owai making, and proceeded from the most sincere affection on both sides, which has rather 1 6 Introduction increased than diminished during twelve years' marriage. But it was something short of love in all its forms, which I suspect people only feel once in their lives." Mrs. Scott does not appear to have had a strong imagination or any unusual interest in literature ; hence she could not exert such an influence on her husband's work as the wives of some other poets have done. But she was a thoroughly good wife and mother, and when she died, in 1826, Scott wrote in his diary, "I wonder how I shall do with the large portion of thoughts which were hers for thirty years." Four children came to the household, two boys (Wal- ter and Charles) and two girls (Sophia and Anne). The many pictures which we get of the family life while all were still together at home are almost without exception pleasant ones ; and Scott's letters to his sons, written after they went away from home to study, are those of a father both wise and kind, who made his children his companions. The older son entered the army, and the younger the government civil service. Sophia married John Lockhart, one of the rising young literary men whom Scott had befriended ; while his other daughter, Anne, remained his constant companion until his death. None of the children survived their father by many years. Turning back now to trace Scott's Hterary work, we find that his earliest pubhshed poems were translations of some German ballads, which he had made for his own amusement. Later he wrote original verses of the same general character; and in the meantime his continued Introduction 17 studies in the ballad literature of his own country grad- ually led to the book called Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border^ which he published in 1802. In this work Scott included not only the popular ballads which he had gath- ered from many sources, but also modern imitations of them by a few of his friends and by himself; and his first important and celebrated poem, the Lay of the Last Minstrel, was originally intended for a place in the same collection, but grew in his hands until it seemed better suited to form a book by itself. It appeared in January, 1805, and was so well received that, as Lockhart tells us, " its success at once decided that literature should form the main business of Scott's life." The first edition con- sisted only of 750 copies, the second of 1500, the third, fourth, and fifth of about 2000 each ; and before Scott collected his poems, twenty-five years later, more than 40,000 copies of the Lay had been sold in Great Britain alone. The story of the success of the poems that followed is almost the same. For Marmion, pub- lished in 1808, the publishers offered ;£"iooo without /laving seen a line of it, — or, as Byron said, " just half a crown per line." The principal poems that followed were The Lady of the Lake, in 18 10; Rokeby, in 1812 ; Tlie Bridal of TriermatJi, in 1813 ; The Lord of the Isles, in 1 8 15, and Harold the Dauntless, in 181 7. In 1813 Scott was asked by the Prince Regent to be- come Poet Laureate, in recognition of his being the most popular poet in the kingdom ; but he declined the hon- our, and managed to secure it for his friend, Robert LADY OF THE LAKE — 2 1 8 Introduction Southey, who needed the salary more than he. This period marks the turning-point from the part of Scott's hfe which was devoted chiefly to poetry, to that which was devoted to prose romances. In 1813 Lord Byron pubhshed two of his metrical romances, The Giaour and The Bride of Abydos, and among London readers his fame was beginning to outshine Scott's. Although Byron sent to the elder poet a copy of The Giaour with the in- scription, " To the Monarch of Parnassus from one of his subjects," Scott was nevertheless one of the first to see that his genius in poetry was not the equal of Byron's. " He hits the mark where I don't even pretend to fledge my arrow," he said to one of his intimate friends ; and long afterward, near the close of his life, he said that one reason why he had given up poetry was because Byron, who had a deeper knowledge of the human heart, was taking his place. In the same year, 18 13, Scott set to work on his first novel, Waverley, which he had begun some years before and abandoned; and in 1814 it was published. Thus began the second and more brilliant period of his literary career. Into the details of this new period we need not at present go. Even the list of Scott's romances is too long to repeat here, and the story of their success be- longs to the study of his work in prose. They followed one another with extraordinary rapidity, and were even more eagerly bought and read than the poems had been. Between 18 14 and 1825 Scott had written more than twenty of these books, and had received for them Introduction 19 more than ^25,000. Part of this money was spent in providing for his children ; a part was invested in the printing estabHshment of his friends, the Ballantynes, who had made their reputation by printing his works ; but the greater part was devoted to building up his estate of Abbotsford, where this, the happiest period of his life, was largely spent. Abbotsford was in Scott's favourite Border country, south of Edinburgh, on the banks of the Tweed, and looking across the river to the Cheviot Hills of Eng- land. It had been a part of the old estate of the monks of Melrose Abbey, the ruins of which are still well pre- served, and for which Scott showed a passionate devo- tion. His estate was at first a mere farm, but he added to it until it reached quite lordly proportions, and at the same time planned the fine residence, every nook and corner of which is associated with his care and taste, and which is still visited by countless pilgrims who hon- our his memory. His official duties called him to Edin- burgh for certain months of each year, but the moment he could leave them he would hasten back to Abbots- ford, to his beloved river and trees, his horses and dogs. Here he entertained, with splendid hospitality, both friends from every quarter of Great Britain and visitors of more or less distinction from all over the world. Every visitor of this sort who made any record of his experiences at Abbotsford has recorded the kindness and grace which Scott showed as a host, and the sim- plicity and charm of his home life. His time seemed 20 Introduction always at the disposal of his family and friends, though in reality he was usually careful to save a part of each morning for rapid work at his desk. Scott's novels had all been pubhshed without the author's name, and the secret of the authorship was revealed only to a few of his most intimate friends, though it gradually came to be understood by all who knew him. But he never per- mitted any personal conversation on the subject, and his family laughingly accepted the popular phrase and called him " the Great Unknown." So he led a simpler life than would have been possible if he had become the acknowledged leading novelist of Great Britain ; and there were even some of his friends to whom it seemed impossible that the man who was always at leisure for riding, hunting, telling stories, corresponding with his friends, or doing a service for any one in need, could be at the same time the writer of two three-volume novels in a year. In 1825, five years after he had been made a baronet by the personal choice of the king, this happy period of Scott's life came to a close through the loss of his fortune. It was the investment in the Ballantyne printing house which brought the crash. Neither the Ballantynes nor Scott had given sufficient attention to the details of busi- ness, and when some of the firms with which theirs was connected fell into difficulties at this time, they were found to be so involved that there was no possibility of avoiding a failure. Their debts all told amounted to over ;^i 10,000, or considerably mor^ than half a million Introduction 2i of dollars, and the honour of Scott was involved in them all. Lord Cockburn, a prominent Scotchman of this period, has recorded the impression made on the community by Scott's misfortune. "The opening of the year 1826 will ever be sad to those who remember the thunderbolt which then fell on Edinburgh in the utterly unexpected bank- ruptcy of Scott. ... If an earthquake had swallowed half the town, it would not have produced greater as- tonishment, sorrow, and dismay. . . . How humbled we felt when we saw him — the pride of us all, dashed from his lofty and honourable station, and all the fruits of his well-worked talents gone. . . . Well do I remem- ber his first appearance after this calamity was divulged, when he walked into court one day in January, 1826. There was no affectation, and no reality, of facing it ; no look of indifference or defiance ; but the manly and modest air of a gentleman conscious of some follv, but of perfect rectitude, and of most heroic and honourable resolutions. It was on that very day, I believe, that he said a very fine thing. Some of his friends offered him, or rather proposed to offer him, enough of money, as was supposed, to enable him to arrange with his creditors. He paused for a moment ; and then, recollecting his powers, said proudly, ' No ! this right hand shall work it all off!'" The remaining years of his life were spent in fulfilling this resolution. Scott believed that if his strength should last long enough, and his popularity as a novelist con- 22 Introduction tinue, he could write books which would enable him to pay all that he owed. But he was now more than fifty years old, and the task was too heavy. He did accomplish wonders, paying from the ])rofits of his writings nearly half the debt of the firm with which he had been associ- ated, in only five years' time. But his work, which had formerly been only a pleasure to him, now became a burden. His strength and buoyancy gave way, and at length a stroke of paralysis left him comparatively help- less in both body and mind. A journey to the Mediter- ranean was planned for the benefit of his health, and the esteem in which he was held is strikingly shown by the fact that his Majesty's government set apart a frigate of the navy for Sir Walter's use. But he continued to fail, and was eager to return to his beloved Abbotsford to die. When quite near the end he sent for his son-in-law, Mr. Lockhart, and said to him : " Lockhart, I may have but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be a good man — be virtuous — be religious — be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here." On the 2TSt of September, 1832, as Lockhart tells us, " Sir Walter breathed his last, in the presence of all his children. It was a beautiful day — so warm that every window was wide open — and so perfectly still that the sound of all others most delicious to his ear, the gentle ijpple of the Tweed over its pebbles, was distinctly audible as we knelt around the bed." It was peculiarly true of Scott that " none knew him but to love him." The pleasure that he had given by Introduction 23 his writings was so great that, as the Earl of Dudley said at the time of his financial misfortunes, " Let every man to whom he has giv^en months of delight give him a six- pence, and he will rise to-morrow morning richer than Rothschild ! " But this was not all. Other great writers, hke Pope, Burns, Coleridge, Byron, and Carlyle, have given pleasure to thousands of readers, but their readers have nevertheless been unable to forget important defects in their character. Those who knew Scott most intimately saw no such spots on his fame. He was a perfect gentle- man, and there is hardly a recorded instance of his lower- ing his own standard of character or doing an unkind- ness. His age was, unfortunately, one of hterary quarrels ; but Scott was the friend of every other poet of his time, and never quarrelled with any of them, even under provo- cation. He firmly believed in the law of kindness. In his last years, looking back over his career and speaking of some of his critics, he wrote : " I let parody, burlesque, and squibs find their own level ; and while the latter hissed most fiercely, I was cautious never to catch them up, as school-boys do, to throw them back against the naughty boy who fired them off, wisely remembering that they are in such cases apt to explode in the handling." His only warm disputes were on political matters, for he was an ardent Tory, and honestly opposed the opposite party whenever there was occasion. But he did this in such good spirit that Lord Cockburn observed that at the time of his failure there was not one of his political op- ponents " who would not have given every spare farthing 24 Introduction he possessed to relieve Sir Walter." The kindliness and pure-heartedness, then, which appear in his writings are the revelation of the man himself. In a sense Scott always remained boyish. Once, in writing to a lady who knew him only by correspondence, he said : " I am afraid you have formed a higher opinion of me than I deserve : you would expect to see a person who had dedicated himself much to literary pursuits, and you would find me a rattle-skulled half-lawyer, half- sportsman, through whose head a regiment of horse has been exercising since he was five years old ; half-educated — half-crazy, as his friends sometimes tell him." So he never lost his love for his horses and dogs, for games and hunting, for stories of war and romance. He always kept, too, a fondness for a certain sort of aristocratic display, which was at the same time not inconsistent with simplicity of spirit. He liked processions and ceremonials ; he was careful to observe the old festivals of Scottish life as they came around from year to year ; he genuinely enjoyed the right to emblazon his coat-of-arms as a baronet ; and one of his greatest pleasures in building up his Abbotsford estate was in gathering around him tenants and servants who would be devoted to him, and to whom he would show kindness, in the old-fashioned position of a lord of the manor. It was natural, then, that he should not be of a temper to sympathize with the growth of democratic ideas which tended to break down all political and social distinctions between men ; and it is perhaps the chief limitation of Scott that he failed to understand or sympa- Introduction 5 thize with the reform movements of his time. In the same way we do not find in either his poetry or his novels any traces of the influence of modern democratic ideas, but rather the atmosphere of the earher days when all well-disposed people were content with things as they found them. Scott preferred to think of himself as a gentleman and an active man of the world, who wrote poetry for the pleasure of it and for the sake of making a httle additional pocket- money, rather than as a man of letters. *' Did any of my sons," he once wrote, " show poetical talent, of which, to my great satisfaction, there are no appearances, the first thing I should do would be to inculcate upon him the duty of cultivating some honourable profession, and qualifying himself to play a more respectable part in society than the mere poet." And in another letter : '" I had rather be a kitten and cry mew' " (quoting Shakespeare), "than write the best poetry in the world on condition of laying aside common sense in the ordinary transactions and business of the world." Now from one point of view this feeling was, of course, very sensible, and preserved Scott from the affectations and conceits of small men of letters ; but it is easy to see, on the other hand, that it shows a lower view of poetry than the greater poets have taken. We can imagine Wordsworth, or Shelley, or Tennyson indig- nant enough at the expression " the mere poet." To them the poet was the truest teacher of his age, with powers and duties as sacred as those of a king, a priest, or a prophet. Here again, then, we find a limitation of 26 Introduction Scott's. He lived largely in the material world, and wrote of solid men and things, rather than of spiritual forces or moral ideals, although he thoroughly believed in these also. He was right in saying that his poetry must take a second place ; for it is not of the sort that reveals great truths, expresses great ideas and profound passions, or leads men into higher living. But it does not follow that his poetry is to be despised. He used it for the same purpose which he afterwards de- cided he could accomplish better in prose, — that of telling wholesome and brilliant stories in a way that makes them live in our imaginations. He delighted to bring back the earlier days, "the age of romance," in all the fascination which it had for him when as a boy his fancy brought back the old warring chieftains to the glens of the Highlands, the monks to the ruins of Melrose Abbey, and armoured knights to the castles of Tantallon or Stirling. His life, he said near its close, had been a sort of dream. " I have worn a wishing-cap, the power of which has been to divert present griefs by a touch of the wand of imagination, and gild over the future by prospects more fair than can be realized." This wonderful wishing-cap and this magic wand he has handed down to all his readers. One of his admirers early called him " the Great Magician," and the tide will always be associated with his memory. We go to him, as his own children used to gather around his chair in the twilight, for stories that shall make us forget ourselves in the sorrows and joys of other days. Introduction 27 II. The Lady of the Lake When Scott was only about sixteen years of age, and was working in a lawyer's office, he was sent on an expedition to the Highlands, with a sergeant and six soldiers to aid him in the execution of a legal paper. " Thus it hap- pened," as he afterwards wrote, " that the author first entered the romantic scenery of Loch Katrine, of which he may perhaps say he has somewhat extended the rep- utation, riding in all the dignity of danger, with a front and rear guard, and loaded arms." This was the wild country to the northwest of Edinburgh, still largely in- habited by the Celtic clans who considered themselves the original and rightful inhabitants of Scotland, and whose haunts and habits are described in both T/ie Lady of the Lake and the novel Rob Roy. Scott often revisited the Highlands, and after the success of his earlier poems, particularly Marmion^ he turned to the Loch Katrine region as the scene of his next work. " The scenery of Loch Katrine," he said, "was connected with the rec- ollection of many a dear friend and merry expedition of former days. This poem, the action of which lay among scenes so beautiful and so deeply imprinted on my recollections, was a labour of love, and it was no less so to recall the manners and customs introduced." The historical basis of The Lady of the Lake was found in the reign of King James V of Scodand, who be- came the father of Mary Queen of Scots, and who had inherited the throne when only a year old, in 15 13. This 2 8 Introduction year 15 13 was the date of the battle of Flodden Field, which is described at the close of the story of Marmion ; so that T]ie Lady of the Lake follows Mar7nion in the time of its story as well as in the time of its writing. Later, in the Tales of a Grandfather, Scott described the reign of James V, and we can see in his narrative the facts which suggested the plot of the poem. During his boyhood, King James was for some time under the control of Douglas, the Earl of Angus, who had married his mother ; but he resented this bitterly, and at the age of sixteen escaped to the royal castle of Stirling. Then, getting the power into his own hands, he exiled the entire Douglas family, and persuaded Par- hament to declare their estates forfeit. He persevered in his hatred of the Douglases, as Scott relates, " even under circumstances w4iich rendered his unrelenting re- sentment ungenerous. Archibald Douglas of Kilspindie, the Earl of Angus's uncle, had been a personal favourite of the king before the disgrace of his family. He was so much recommended to James by his great strength, manly appearance, and skill in every kind of warlike exercise, that he was wont to call him his * Graysteil,' after the name of a champion in a romance then popu- lar. Archibald, becoming rather an old man, and tired of his exile in England, resolved to try the king's mercy. He thought that as they had been so well acquainted formerly, and as he had never offended James person- ally, he might find favour from their old intimacy. He therefore threw himself in the king's way one day as he Introduction 29 returned from hunting in the park at Stirhng. It was several years since James had seen him, but he knew him at a great distance, by his firm and stately step, and said, 'Yonder is my Graysteil, Archibald of Kilspindie.' But when they met, he showed no appearance of recog- nizing his old servant." While the Douglas of The Lady of the Lake is an imaginary person, this "Graysteil" forms the historical basis for his character. Two other characteristic facts connected with James V were used by Scott in planning his poem : the warfare which the king waged against the wild freebooting chiefs of the Highlands and the Border, of whom Roderick Dhu is an imaginary type ; and his habit of going about in dis- guise, either for purposes of pleasure or to observe the conditions of his kingdom unsuspected. An instance of this latter sort, including one circumstance which is used in the story of Ellen's recognition of the king, Scott also related in the Tales of a Grandfather. " Upon another occasion. King James, being alone and in disguise, fell into a quarrel with some gipsies, or other vagrants, and was assaulted by four or five of them. . . . There was a poor man thrashing corn in a barn near by, who came out on hearing the noise of the scuffle, and seeing one man defending himself against numbers, gal- lantly took the king's part with his flail, to such good purpose that the gipsies were obliged to fly. The hus- bandman then took the king into the barn, brought him a towel and water to wash the blood from his face and hands, and finally walked with him a little way toward JO Introduction Edinburgh, in case he should be again attacked. On the way, the king asked his companion what and who he was. The labourer answered that his name was John Howieson, and that he was a bondsman on the farm of Braehead, near Cramond, which belonged to the king of Scotland. James then asked the poor man if there was any wish in the world which he would particularly desire should be gratified ; and honest John confessed he should think himself the happiest man in Scotland were he but propri- etor of the farm on which he wrought as a labourer. He then asked the king, in turn, who he was ; and James replied, as usual, that he was the Goodman of Ballen- giech, a poor man who had a small appointment about the palace ; but he added that if John Howieson would come to see him on the next Sunday, he would endeavour to repay his manful assistance, and at least give him the pleasure of seeing the royal apartments. John put on his best clothes, as you may suppose, and, appearing at the postern gate of the palace, inquired for the Goodman of Ballengiech, The king had given orders that he should be admitted ; and John found his friend, the goodman, in the same disguise which he- had formerly worn. The king, still preserving the character of an inferior officer of the household, conducted John Howieson from one apartment of the palace to another, and was amused with his wonder and his remarks. At length James asked his visitor if he should like to see the king ; to which John replied, nothing would delight him so much, if he could do so without giving offence. The Goodman of Ballen- Introduction ji giech of course undertook that the king would not be angry. 'But,' said John, 'how am I to know his Grace from the nobles who will be all about him?' 'Easily,* replied his companion ; ' all the others will be uncovered. The king alone will wear his hat or bonnet.' So speak- ing, King James introduced the countryman into a great hall, which was filled by the nobility and officers of the crown. John was a little frightened, and drew close to his attendant ; but was still unable to distinguish the king. ' I told you that you should know him by his wearing his hat,' said the conductor. ' Then,' said John, after he had again looked round the room, ' it must be either you or me, for all but us two are bareheaded.' The king laughed at John's fancy ; and that the good yeoman might have occasion for mirth also, he made him a pres- ent of the farm of Braehead, which he had wished so much to possess, on condition that John Howieson, or his successors, should be ready to present a ewer and basin for the king to wash his hands, when his Majesty should come to Holyrood palace, or should pass the bridge of Cramond." We see, then, how the poet, finding suggestions in such historical situations as that just described, wove into them the story of the Lady of the Lake, adding the char- acters of Ellen Douglas and her lover, and repeopling the glens of the Highlands with warriors, as he had always been in the habit of doings for his own pleasure, with scenes of historic interest. " I took uncommon pains," he said afterward, " to verify the accuracy of the local 32 Introduction circumstances of this story. I recollect in particular that to ascertain whether I was telling a probable tale, I went into Perthshire, to see whether King James could actually have ridden from the banks of Loch Vennachar to Stirling Castle within the time supposed in the poem, and had the pleasure to satisfy myself that it was quite practicable." Scott also relates how he read the manuscript of the poem to a friend, — a farmer and hunter rather than a man of letters, — in order to test its effectiveness. " He placed his hand across his brow, and listened with great attention through the whole account of the stag-hunt, till the dogs threw themselves into the lake to follow their master, who embarks with Ellen Douglas. He then started up with a sudden exclamation, struck his hand on the table, and declared . . . that the dogs must have been totally ruined by being permitted to take the water after such a severe chase. I own I was much encour- aged by the species of revery which had possessed so zealous a follower of the sports of the ancient Nimrod who had been completely surprised out of all doubts of the reality of the tale." In 1810, then, The Lady of the Lake was published. "I do not recollect," said Mr. Cadell, an Edinburgh gentleman of the period, "that any of all the author's works was ever looked for with more intense anxiety, or that any one of them excited a more extraordinary sensation when it did appear. The whole country rang with the praises of the poet — crowds set off to view the Introduction ^3 scenery of Loch Katrine, till then comparatively un- known ; and as the book came out just before the season for excursions, every house and inn in that neighbourhood was crammed with a constant succession of visitors." This popularity has continued quite to our own time. Lockhart thought that, while Marmioii might be consid- ered "the most powerful and splendid " of Scott's poems, The Lady of the Lake was " the most interesting, roman- tic, picturesque, and graceful." Scott himself regarded Marmion as being distinguished for its descriptive power, The Lady of the Lake for its incidents. But the fact is that it is the splendid movement of the story which gives life to both poems, as to most of his works. Whether it is the hunting of the stag, the wonderful " speeding of the cross," the batde in the Trosachs, the single combat at Coilantogle Ford, or the games at Stirling, we follow the rapid, sure-footed movements of the poet like riders on horseback dashing after an intrepid leader. The details of style or verse may sometimes be careless enough, but the story never flags. Scott clearly recognized the real nature of his powers. He spoke of the " false gallop " of his verse, not claiming for it the subtle harmonies of the master poets, and he said that his gift was to present the " picturesque in action " rather than in scenery. Yet his sense of the pic- turesque in scenery was by no means slight, as The Lady of the Latze itself sufficiently proves. The poem has be- come the lasting guide-book to the lake region of the Scottish Highlands, and the guide not only to its geo- I.ADV OF THE LAKE — 3 34 Introduction graphical details but to their significance and beauty. To read it aright, then, one must have in mind this Highland region, its extent, divisions, and scenery. The whole district that is of interest to readers of The Lady of the Lake seems surprisingly small to readers familiar with American distances : it covers an area ex- tending about fifteen miles to the north and south, and twenty-five to the east and west. At the southeast corner is Stirling, with its ancient castle ; Loch Lomond lies along the western edge, with the mountain Ben Lomond rising from its eastern shore ; while through the centre of the district runs the chain composed of three lakes (Katrine, Achray, and Vennachar) and the river Teith. On all sides of these lakes are the peaks, forests, and glens of the Highlands. For our purpose two spots in the region stand out as of special interest. One of them is Coilantogle Ford, at the eastern end of Loch Vennachar, the scene of the brilliant combat of Fitz- James and Roderick Dhu. The other, even more roman- tic in interest, is the eastern end of Loch Katrine, the very heart of the country of The Lady of the Lake. Standing at this end of the lake, one is overshadowed by the peak of Benvenue rising from its southern shore, — a peak which, although not lofty as mountain heights go in other lands, is likely to be partly shut out from view by drifting clouds and morning mists. Under its shadow, and seemingly within stone's throw of the shore, is the tiny island which Scott conceived to have been the tem- porary home of the Douglases, provided for them by Introduction 35 Roderick in the heart of his dominions, and which has ever since gone by the name of " Ellen's Isle." To the left the path turns upward into the forest, and is soon winding through the wooded glen, with its mountain walls rising on each side, to which the mountaineers gave the name of '*' the Trosachs " or '' bristling pass." Nowadays there is nothing to be heard here but the rustle of the leaves, the songs of birds, and occasionally the voices of a party of tourists coming through by coach from Loch Katrine to Aberfoyle or Callander ; but one is tempted to look warily behind trees, and to watch the turn of the road, for it was hereabouts that " through copse and heath arose Bonnets and spears and bended bows," and the imaginative wanderer almost wishes for a glimpse of one of " Clan-Alpine's warriors true." It is hard to realize that four hundred years have passed since King James's men and those of the Highland chieftain fought and bled here in the " Trosachs' dread defile," or since Ellen pushed her little shallop across the lake ; yes, and a hundred years even since Walter Scott was here tracing out the lines of the poem. So it is that the poets keep the old world always young for us, and make the lovers and soldiers of long ago our never failing friends. THE LADY OF THE LAKE CANTO FIRST The Chase Harp of the North ! that mouldering long hast hung On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring, And down the fitful breeze thy numbers ^ flung, Till envious ivy did around thee cling, Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — c O minstrel Harp ! still must thine accents sleep ? Mid rustling leaves and fountain's murmuring. Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep? Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon,^ ic Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd. When lay of hopeless love, or glory won. Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud. At each according pause, was heard aloud Thine ardent symphony sublime and high ! 15 Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed : For still"^ the burden of thy minstrelsy W'as Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's match- less eye. ' Musical measures. 2 Scotland. ^ Always. 38 The Lady of the Lake 1 i O wake once more ! how rude soe'er the hand \ That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; 20 ; O wake once more ! though scarce my skill command j Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay : ■ Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, ■ x\nd all unworthy of thy nobler strain, ] Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, 25 \ The wizard note has not been touched in vain. ; Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again ! ; The stag at eve had drunk his fill. Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made 30 In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head. The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way, 35 And faint, from farther distance borne, Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. As chief, who hears his warder call, ' To arms ! the foemen storm the wall,' The antlered monarch of the waste ^ 40 Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 1 Wilderness. Canto 1 39 But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; Like crested leader proud and high, Tossed his beamed frontlet ^ to the sky ; 45 A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment snuffed the tainted gale, A moment listened to the cry That thickened as the chase drew nigh ; Then, as the headmost foes appeared, 50 With one brave bound the copse he cleared. And, stretching forward free and far, Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. Ill Yelled on the view the opening pack ; Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back ; 55 To many a mingled sound at once The awakened mountain gave response. A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong, Clattered a hundred steeds along. Their peal the merry horns rung out, 60 A hundred voices joined the shout ; With hark and whoop and wild halloo, No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. Far from the tumult fled the roe, Close in her covert cowered the doC; 65 The falcon, from her cairn - on high, Cast on the rout" a wondering eye, 1 Antlered forehead. '^ Rocky heap. ^ Company. 40 The Lady of the Lake Till far beyond her piercing ken The hurricane had swept the glen. Faint and more faint, its failing din 70 Returned from cavern, cliff, and linn,^ And silence settled, wide and still. On the lone wood and mighty hill. IV Less loud the sounds of sylvan w^ar Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 75 And roused the cavern, where, 'tis told, A giant made his den of old ; For ere that steep ascent was won, High in his pathway hung the sun, And many a gallant, stayed perforce,^ 80 Was fain to breathe his faltering horse. And of the trackers of the deer Scarce half the lessening pack was near ; ' So shrewdly^ on the mountain-side Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 85 The noble stag was pausing now Upon the mountain's southern brow, Where broad extended, far beneath, The varied realms of fair Menteith. With anxious eye he wandered o'er 90 Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, ^ Ravine. - By necessity. ^ Severely. Canto 1 41 And ponder'd refuge from his toil, By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. But nearer was the copsewood ^ grey That waved and wept on Loch Achray, 95 And mingled with the pine-trees blue On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. Fresh vigour with the hope returned ; With flying foot the heath he spurned. Held westward with unwearied race, 100 And left behind the panting chase. VI 'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, As swept the hunt through Cambus-more ; What reins were tightened in despair, When rose Benledi's ridge in air ; 105 Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath. Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith, — For twice that day, from shore to shore, The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. Few were the stragglers, following far, no That reached the lake of Vennachar ; And when the Brigg of Turk was won. The headmost horseman rode alone. VII Alone, but with unbated ^ zeal. That horseman plied the scourge and steel ; 115 1 Growth of shrubs or l)ushes. - Undiminished. 42 The Lady of the Lake For jaded now, and spent with toil, Embossed with foam,' and dark with soil, While every gasp with sobs he drew. The labouring stag strained full in view. Tw^o dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, 120 Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed, Fast on his flying traces came. And all but won that desperate game ; For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch. Vindictive toiled the bloodhounds staunch ; 125 Nor nearer might the dogs attain, Nor farther might the quarry^ strain. Thus up the margin of the lake, Between the precipice and brake, O'er stock" and rock their race they take. 130 VIII The hunter marked that mountain high, The lone lake's western boundary, And deemed the stag must turn to bay, Where that huge rampart barr'd the way ; Already glorying in the prize, 135 Measured his antlers with his eyes ; For the death-wound and death-halloo Mustered his breath, his whinyard"* drew; — But thundering as he came prepared, ^ Foaming with exhaustion. - Hunted animal. ^ Stump. i 4 Knif^. \ Canto I 43 With ready arm and weapon bared, 140 The wily quarry shunned the shock, And turned him from the opposing rock ; Then, dashing down a darksome glen, Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken. In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 145 His solitary refuge took. There, while close couched, the thicket shed Cold dew^s and wild-flowers on his head. He heard the baffled dogs in vain Rave through the hollow pass amain, 150 Chiding the rocks that yelled again. IX Close on the hounds the hunter came, To cheer them on the vanished game ; But, stumbling in the rugged dell. The gallant horse exhausted fell. 155 The impatient rider strove in vain To rouse him with the spur and rein. For the good steed, his labours o'er. Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more ; Then, touched with pity and remorse, 160 He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse. ' I little thought, when first thy rein I slacked upon the banks of Seine, That Highland eagle e'er should feed On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed 1 16; 44 The Lady of the Lake Woe worth ^ the chase, woe worth the day, That costs thy hfe, my gallant grey ! ' Then through the dell his horn resounds, From vain pursuit to call the hounds. Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, 170 The sulky leaders of the chase ; Close to their master's side they pressed, With drooping tail and humbled crest ; But still the dingle's- hollow throat Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. 175 The owlets started from their dream, The eagles answered with their scream. Round and around the sounds were cast. Till echo seemed an answering blast; And on the hunter hied his way, 180 To join some comrades of the day ; Yet often paused, so strange the road. So wondrous were the scenes it showed. XI The western waves of ebbing day Rolled o'er the glen their level way ; 185 Each purple peak, each flinty spire. Was bathed in floods of living fire. But not a setting beam could glow Within the dark ravines below, i Be to. 2 nien. Canto I 45 Where twined the path, in shadow hid, 190 Round many a rocky pyramid, Shooting abruptly from the dell Its thunder-splintered pinnacle ; Round many an insulated mass, The native bulwarks of the pass, 195 Huge as the tower which builders vain Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. The rocky summits, split and rent, Formed turret, dome, or battlement, Or seemed fantastically set 200 With cupola or minaret, Wild crests as pagod ^ ever decked, Or mosque of Eastern architect. Nor were these earth-born castles bare, Nor lacked they many a banner fair ; 205 For, from their shivered brows displayed, P'ar o'er the unfathomable glade. All twinkling with the dewdrop sheenr The brier-rose fell in streamers green. And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, 210 Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. XII Boon ^ nature scattered, free and wild. Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. Here eglantine embalmed the air, Hawthorn and hazel mingled there ; 215 1 Pagoda. 2 Bright. ^ Bountiful. 46 The Lady of the Lake The primrose pale, and violet flower, Found in each cleft a narrow bower ; Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side, Emblems of punishment and pride. Grouped their dark hues with every stain 220 The weather-beaten crags retain. With boughs that quaked at every breath, Grey birch and aspen wept beneath ; Aloft, the ash and warrior oak Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; 225 And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung His shattered trunk, and frequent^ fl'-irig? Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high, His boughs athwart the narrowed sky. Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, 230 Where glistening streamers waved and danced, The wanderer's eye could barely view The summer heaven's delicious blue ; So wondrous wild, the whole might seem The scenery of a fairy dream. 235 XIII Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep A narrow inlet, still and deep, Affording scarce such breadth of brim As served the wild duck's brood to swim. Lost for a space, through thickets veering, 240 1 In abundance. Canto 1 47 But broader when again appearing, Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face Could on the dark-blue mirror trace ; And farther as the hunter strayed, Still broader sweep its channels made. 245 The shaggy mounds nO longer stood, Emerging from entangled wood, But, wave-encircled, seemed to float. Like castle girdled with its moat ; Yet broader floods extending still 250 Divide them from their parent hill. Till each, retiring, claims to be An islet in an inland sea. XIV And now, to issue from the glen. No pathway meets the wanderer's ken,^ 255 Unless he climb, with footing nice, A far projecting precipice. The broom's tough roots his ladder made, The hazel saplings lent their aid ; And thus an airy point he won, 260 Where, gleaming with the setting sun, One burnished sheet of living gold, Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled ; In all her length far winding lay. With promontory, creek, and bay, 265 i View. 270 275 48 The Lady of the Lake And islands that, empurpled bright, Floated amid the livelier light, x\nd mountains that like giants stand To sentinel enchanted land. High on the south, huge Benvenue Down to the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, The fragments of an earlier world ; A wildering ^ forest feathered o'er His ruined sides and summit hoar. While on the north, through middle air, Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. XV From the steep promontory gazed The stranger, raptured and amazed. And, ' What a scene were here,' he cried, 280 ' For princely pomp or churchman's pride ! On this bold brow, a lordly tower ; In that soft vale, a lady's bower; On yonder meadow, far away. The turrets of a cloister grey ; 285 How blithely might the bugle-horn Chide on the lake the lingering morn 1 How sweet at eve the lover's lute Chime when the groves were still and mute ! And when the midnight moon should lave 290 1 Bewildering. Canto I 49 Her forehead in the silver wave, How solemn on the ear would come The holy matins' distant hum, While the deep peal's commanding tone Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 295 A sainted hermit from his cell. To drop a bead with every knell ! And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, Should each bewildered stranger call To friendly feast and lighted hall. 300 XVI ' Blithe were it then to wander here ! But now — beshrew yon nimble deer — Like that same hermit's, thin and spare, The copse must give my evening fare ; Some mossy bank my couch must be. Some rustling oak my canopy. Yet pass we that ; the war and chase Give little choice of resting-place ; — A summer night in greenwood spent Were but to-morrow's merriment : But hosts may in these wilds abound. Such as are better missed than found; To meet with Highland plunderers here. Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — I am alone ; — my bugle-strain May call some straggler of the train ; LADY OF THE LAKE — 4 50 The Lady of the Lake Or, fall the worst that may betide, Ere now this falchion ^ has been tried.' XVII But scarce again his horn he wound, When lo ! forth starting at the sound, 320 From underneath an aged oak That slanted from the islet rock, A damsel guider of its way, A little skiff shot to the bay, That round the promontory steep 325 Led its deep line in graceful sweep. Eddying, in almost viewless wave. The weeping willow twig to lave, And kiss, with whispering sound and slow. The beach of pebbles bright as snow. 330 The boat had touched this silver strand. Just as the hunter left his stand, And stood concealed amid the brake, To view this Lady of the Lake. The maiden paused, as if again 335 She thought to catch the distant strain. With head upraised, and look intent. And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back, and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art, 34c In listening mood, she seemed to stand, The guardian Naiad" of the strand. 1 Short sword. 2 Water-nymph. Canto I 5' XVIII And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form or loveher face ! 345 What though the sun, with ardent frown, Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — The sportive toil, which, short and light. Had dyed her glowing hue so bright. Served too in hastier swell to show 350 Short glimpses of a breast of snow : What though no rule of courtly grace To measured mood had trained her pace, — A foot more light, a step more true, Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew ; 355 E'en the slight harebell raised its head. Elastic from her airy tread : What though upon her speech there hung The accents of the mountain tongue, — Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear. 360 The listener held his breath to hear ! XIX A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid ; Her satin snood, ^ her silken plaid. Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed. And seldom was a snood amid 365 Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, 1 Hair-ribbon. 52 The Lady of the Lake Whose glossy black to shame might bring The plumage of the raven's wing ; And seldom o'er a breast so fair, Mantled a plaid with modest care, 370 And never brooch the folds combined Above a heart more good and kind. Her kindness and her worth to spy, You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; Not Katrine in her mirror blue 375 Gives back the shaggy banks more true, Than every free-born glance confessed The guileless movements of her breast ; Whether joy danced in her dark eye, Or woe or pity claimed a sigh, 380 Or filial love was glowing there. Or meek devotion poured a prayer, Or tale of injury called forth The indignant spirit of the North. One only passion unrevealed 385 With maiden pride the maid concealed, Yet not less purely felt the flame ; O ! need I tell that passion's name ? XX Impatient of the silent horn. Now on the gale her voice was borne : — 390 ' Father ! ' she cried ; the rocks around Loved to prolong the gentle sound. A while she paused ; no answer came. — Canto I 53 ' Malcolm, was thine the blast ? ' the name Less resolutely uttered fell ; 395 The echoes could not catch the swell. ' A stranger I,' the huntsman said, Advancing from the hazel shade. The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar Pushed her light shallop^ from the shore, 400 And when a space was gained between. Closer she drew her bosom's screen ; (So forth the startled swan would swing So turn to prune- his ruffled wing.) Then safe, though fluttered and amazed, 405 She paused, and on the stranger gazed. Not his the form, nor his the eye. That youthful maidens wont'^ to fly. XXI On his bold visage middle age Had slightly pressed its signet "^ sage, 410 Yet had not quenched the open truth And fiery vehemence of youth ; Forward and frolic glee was there. The will to do, the soul to dare. The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 415 Of hasty love or headlong ire. His limbs Vv'ere cast in manly mould. For hardy sports or contest bold ; Boat. - Arrange. ^ Are accustomed. ■* Seal. 54 The Lady of the Lake And though in peaceful garb arrayed, And weaponless, except his blade, 420 His stately mien as well implied A high-born heart, a martial pride, As if a baron's crest he wore, And sheathed in armour trode the shore. Slighting the petty need he showed, 425 He told of his benighted ^ road ; His ready speech flowed fair and free, In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; Yet seemed that tone, and gesture bland, Less used to sue than to command. XXII 430 A while the maid the stranger eyed, And, reassured, at length replied, That Highland halls were open stilF To wildered ^ wanderers of the hill. * Nor think you unexpected come 435 To yon lone isle, our desert home ; Before the heath hath lost the dew. This morn, a couch was pulled for you ; On yonder mountain's purple head Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, 440 And our broad nets have swept the mere,* To furnish forth your evening cheer.' — ' Now, by the rood,^ my lovely maid, Your courtesy has erred,' he said ; 1 Lost. 2 Always. ^ Bewildered. * Lake. ^ Cross. Canto I 55 * No right have I to claim, misplaced, 445 The welcome of expected guest. A wanderer, here by fortune tost. My way, my friends, my courser lost, I ne'er before, believe me, fair, Have ever drawn your mountain air, 450 Till on this lake's romantic strand, I found a fay in fairy land ! ' — XXIII * I well believe,' the maid replied, As her light skiff approached the side, — ' I well believe that ne'er before 455 Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore ; But yet, as far as yesternight, Old Allan-Bane foretold your plight, — A grey-haired sire, whose eye intent Was on the visioned future bent. 460 He saw your steed, a dappled grey, Lie dead beneath the birchen way ; Painted exact your form and mien, Your hunting-suit of Lincoln green, That tasselled horn so gaily gilt, 465 That falchion's crooked blade and hilt. That cap with heron plumage trim, And yon two hounds so dark and grim. He bade that all should ready be To grace a guest of fair degree ; 470 But light I held his prophecy, ^6 The Lady of the Lake And deemed it was my father's horn, Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne.' XXIV The stranger smiled : — ' Since to your home A destined errant-knight I come, 475 Announced by prophet sooth ^ and old, Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold^ I'll lightly front each high emprise, - For one kind glance of those bright eyes. Permit me first the task to guide 480 Your fairy frigate o'er the tide.' The maid, with smile suppressed and sly, The toil unwonted saw him try ; For seldom sure, if e'er before. His noble hand had grasped an oar : 4