SIR WALTER SCOTT. (AFTER THE PORTRAIT BV SIR HENRY RAEBURN.) THE •^ 'WS A POEM, TJV ST^ C jLJSTTO S. BY SIR WALTER SCOTT, WITH THE INCIDENTAL SONGS SET TO MUSIC, NEW YORK AND BROOKLYN. \1 COPYRIGHT, 1885, BY DAVID SMALL. »l*W»5iir>o KLBCTBOTYPID BV C-jV NOTE BY THE PUBLISHER. ■-5>=«>d!::>=^I>^>- TNCE the Poem of "The Lady of tlie Lake" was first given to the public, in the year 1810, its popularity has heen such, that innuraerahle Editions have appeared, ranging in form from the humblest Pamphlet or Book, to almost perfect examples of Typography, Illustration, and Binding. So far as known to the Pub- lisher, no Edition, MfiiA the incidental Songs set to music^ has ever been issued, and to supply this want the present Edition has been prepared. The Music— with the exception of that of the Ave Maria— and the Ballads, "The Heath this Night" and "They Bid Me Sleep," has been composed and arranged expres.sly for this work, and the Publisher sincerely hopes that it may meet the approval of all lovers of Sir Walter Scott. D. S. --5>=i>:23^*>:*>- CANTO I. - The Chase.— Page 5. SONG. — Soldier, Rest! Thy Warfare O'er. - - Music by David Small. Page 13 CANTO II. - The Island.— Page 17. SONG — Not Faster Yonder Rowers' Might. - . Arranged by David Small. - Page 18 SONG— Hail TO THE Chief. - Arranged by David Small. - " 24 CANTO III. - The Gathering.— Page 31. CORONACH — He is Gone on the Mountain. - - Music by David Small. Page 36 SONG — The Heath this Night. Music by Jobn Wilson. "39 SONG — Ave Maria. Music by Franz Schubert. - " 42 CANTO IV. - The Prophecy.— Page 46. SONG — They Bid Me Sleep. . - - . . Music by John Wilson. Page 53 SONG — The Toils are Pitched. ----- Musi<: by David Small. - - - " 5S CANTO V. - The Combat.— Page 60. CANTO VI. - The Guard Room.— Page 71. SONG — Our Vicar Still Preaches. - . - - Music by David Small. Page 72 SONG — My Hawk is Tired of Perch and Hood. - Afusic by David Small. - - - "80 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Argument. — The scene of the following Poem is laid chiefly in the vicinity of Loch-Katrine, in the Western Highlands of Perthshire, The time of action includes six days, and the transactions of each day occupy a canto. OAI^TTO FIRST. THE CHASE. TTarp of the North ! that mouldering long hast hung On the witch-elm that shades Saint FiUan's spring, And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, Till envious ivy did around thee cling, Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — O minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep? Mid rustling leaves and fountains 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, Was thy voice mute amid tlie festal crowd, Wlien 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 ! Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bow'd ; For still the burden of thy minstrelsy "Was kniglithood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye. wake once more ! how rude soe'er the hand That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; wake once more ! though scarce my skill com- mand Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay : Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, And all unworthy of thy nobler strain, Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, The wizard note has not been touch'd 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 midniglit lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, The deep-mouth'd blood-hound's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way. And faint, from farther distance borne. Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. n. As Chief, who hears his warder call, " To arms ! the foemen storm the wall," The antler'd monarch of the waste Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took. The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; Like crested leader proud and high, Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky; A moment gazed ado\vn the dale, A moment snuff'd the tainted gale, THE LADY OF THE LAKE. A moment listen'd to the cry, That thicken'd as the chase drew nigh ; Then, as the headmost foes appear'd, With one brave bound the copse he clear'd. And, stretching forward free and far. Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. Tell'd on the view the opening pack, Kock, glen, and cavern paid them back ; To many a mingled sound at once The awaken'd mountain gave response. An hundred dogs bay'd deep and strong, Clatter'd an hundred steeds along. Their peal the merry horns rung out. An hundred voices join'd the shout ; With hark and whoop and wild halloo, No rest Benvoirlich's eclioes knew. Far from the tumult fled the roe. Close in her covert cower'd the doe, The falcon, from her cairn on high, Cast on the rout a wondering eye. Till far beyond her piercing ken The hurricane had swept the glen. Faint, and more faint, its failing din Return'd from cavern, cliff, and linn, And silence settled, wide and still. On the lone wood and mighty hill. Less loud tlie sounds of sylvan war Disturb'd the heights of Uam-Var, And roused the cavern, where 'tis told A giant made his den of old ; For ere that steep ascent was won, High in liis pathway hung the sun, And many a gallant, stay'd perforce. 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. V. 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 wander'd o'er Mountain and meadow, moss and moor. And ponder'd refuge from his toil. By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. But nearer was the copse-wood gray, That waved and wept on Loch-Acliray, And mingled with the pine-trees blue On the bold clifis of Ben-venue. Fresh vigour with the hope return'd. With flying foot the heath he spurn'd Held westward with unwearied race, And left behind the panting chase. 'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er. As swept the hunt through Cambus-More ; What reins were tighten'd in despair, Wlien rose Benledi's ridge in air; Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath, Who shunn'd 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. That reach'd the lake of Vennachar ; And wlien the Brig of Turk was won, The headmost horseman rode alone. VII. Alone, but with unbated zeal. That horseman phed the scourge and steel ; For, jaded now, and spent with toil, Emboss'd with foam, and dark with soil. While every gasp with sobs he drew, The lab'ring Stag strain'd full in view. Two dogs of black St. Hubert's breed, Unmatch'd 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 toil'd the blood-hounds staunch ; 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. The hunter niark'd that mountain high. The lone lake's western boundary, THE CHASE. And deem'd the Stag must turn to bay, Wliero that huge rampart barr'd thu way ; Aheady glorymg in the prize, Measured his antlers with his eyes ; For the death-wound, and death-halloo, Muster'd his breath, liis whinyurd druw ; But thundering as he came prepared, With ready arm and weapon bared. The wily quarry shunn'd the shock, And turn'd him from th' opposing rock; Then, dashing down a darksome glen, Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken, In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook His solitary refuge took. There, while close couch'd, the thicket shed Cold dews and wUd flowers on his head. He heard the baffled dogs in vain Rave through the hollow pass amain Chiding the rocks that yell'd again. Close on the hounds the hunter came, To cheer them on the vanish'd game ; But, stumbUng in the rugged dell, The gallant horse exhausted fell. The impatient rider strove in vain To rouse him with the spur and rein, For the good steed, his labours o'er, Stretch'd liis stiff limbs to rise no more ; Then, touch'd with pity and remorse. He sorrow'd o'er the expiring horse. " I little thought, when first thy rein I slack'd upon the banks of Seine, That Highland eagle e'er should feed On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! Wo worth the chase, wo worth the day. That costs thy life, my gallant gray ! " — X. Then through the dell his horn resounds. From vain pursuit to call the hounds. Back limp'd, with slow and crippled pace, The sulky leaders of the chase ; Close to their master's side they press'd, With drooping tail and humbled crest ; But still the dingle's hoUow throat Prolong'd the sweUing bugle note. The owlets started from their dream. The eagles answor'd with their scream ; Round and around the sounds were cast, Till echo seem'd an answering blast ; And on the hunter hied his way, 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 RoU'd o'er the glen their level way ; 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. Where twined the path, in shadow liid. Round many a rocky pyramid. Shooting abruptly from the dell Its thunder-splinter'd pinnacle Round many an insulated mass. The native bulwarks of the pass, Hugo as the tower which builders vain Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. The rocky summits, split and rent, Form'd turret, dome, or battlement, Or seem'd fantastically set With cupola or minaret ; Wild crests as pagod ever deck'd. Or mosque of Eastern architect. Nor were these earthborn castles bare. Nor lack'd they many a banner fair; For, from their shiver'd brows displayed, Far o'er the unfathomable glade, All twinkling with the dew-drop sheen. The briar-rose irfrti in streamers green, And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. XII. Boon nature scatter'd, free and wild. Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. Here eglantine embalm'd the air. Hawthorn and hazel mingled there ; The primrose pale, and violet flower. Found in each clifi" a narrow bower ; Foxglove and nightshade, side by side, Emblems of punishmput and pride, THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Group'd their dark hues with every stain The weather-beateu crags retain. With boughs that quaked, at every breath, Gray birch and aspen wept beneath; Aloft, the ash and warrior oak Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung His shatter'd trunk, and frequent flung, Where seem'd the cliffs to meet on high. His boughs athwart the iiarrow'd sky. Highest of all where white peaks glanc'd, Wliere glist'ning 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. xin. 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. But broader when again appearing. Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face Could on the dark-blue mirror trace ; And, farther, as the hunter stray'd. Still broader sweep its channel made. The shaggy mounds no longer stood Emerging from entangled wood, But, wave-encircled, seem'd to float, Like castle girdled with its moat ; Yet broader floods extending stLU, Divide them from their parent liiU, TlU 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, Unless he climb, with footing nice, A far projecting precipice. The broom's tough roots liis ladder made, The hazel saplings lent their aid ; And thus an airy point he won, Where, gleaming with the setting sun, One burnish'd sheet of living gold, Loch-Katrine lay beneath him roll'd ; In all her length far winding lay. With promontory, creek, and bay. And islands that, emi3urpled bright. Floated amid the livelier light ; And moimtains, that like giants stand. To sentinel enchanted land. High on the south huge Ben-venue Do\vn on the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and moimds, confus'dly hurl'd. The fragments of an earlier world. A wildering forest feather'd o'er His ruiu'd sides and summit hoar. While on the north, tlirough middle air, Ben-an heaved high liis forehead bare. XV. From the steep promontory gazed The stranger, raptured and amazed. And, " What a scene were here," he cried, " 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 tuiTets of a cloister gray. How blithely might the bugle horn Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn ! How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute Chime, when the groves were still and mute ; And, when the midnight moon should lave Her forehead in the silver wave. How solemn on the ear would come The holy matin's distant hum, While the deep peal's commanding tone Should wake, in yonder islet lone, A sainted hermit from his cell. To drop a bead with every kneU — And bugle, lute, and beU, and all. Should each bewilder'd stra-.iger call To friendly feast, and lighted hall. XVI. " Blithe were it then to wander here ! But now, — beshrew yon nimble deer, — Lilce that same hermit's, thin and spare The copse must give my evening fare ; Some mossy bank my couch must be, Some rustUng oak my canopy. THE CHASE. Yet pass we that ; — the war and chase Give little choice of resting-place; — A summer night, in green-wood spent, Were but to-morrow's merriment; But hosts may in these wilds abound, Such as are better niiss'd tlian found. To meet with Higliland plunderers here "Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — I am alone ; my bugle strain May call some straggler of the train ; Or, fall the worst that may betide, Ere now this faulchion has been tried." XVII. But scarce again his horn he wound, When lo ! forth starting at the sound, 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 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. The boat had touch'd this silver strand, Just as the hunter left liis stand, And stood conceal'd amid the brake. To view this Lady of the Lake. The maiden paused, as if again 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. In list'ning mood, she seem'd to stand The guardian Naiad of the strand. XVIII. And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form, or lovelier face ! What though the sun, -with ardent fro\yn, 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 Short glimpses of a breast of snow. What though no rule of coiu-tly grace To measured mood had train'd her pace, — A foot more light, a step more true. Ne'er from the heath-flower dash'd the dew ; E'en the slight hare-bell 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, The Ust'ner held his breath to hear. XIX. A chieftain's daughter seem'd the maid ; Her satin snood, her silken plaid, Her golden brooch, such birth betray'd. And seldom was a snood amid Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, AATiose 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. And never brooch the fold combined Above a heart more good and kind. Her kindness and her worth to spy, You need but gaze ou Ellen's eye ; Not Katrine, in her mirror blue, Gives back the shaggy banks more true, Than every free-born glance confess'd The guileless movements of her breast ; Whether joy danced in her dark eye. Or wo or pity claim'd a sigh. Or filial love was glowing there. Or meek devotion pour'd a prayer, Or tale of injury call'd forth The indignant spirit of the north. One only passion, unreveal'd. With maiden pride the maid conceal'd; Yet not less purely felt the flame : — need I tell that passion's name ! XX- Lnpatient of the silent horn. Now on the gale her voice was borne : " Father ! " she cried ; the rocks around Loved to prolong the gentle sound. 10 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Awhile she paused, no answer came. — "Malcolm, was thine the blast?" The name Less resolutely utter'd fell. The echoes could not catch the swell. "A stranger I," the Himtsman said, Advancing from the hazel shade. The maid, alarm'd, with hasty oar Push'd her light shaUop from the shore, And when a space was gain'd between, Closer she drew her bosom screen, (So forth the startled swan would swing, So turn to prune his ruffled wing ;) Then safe, though flutter'd and amazed. 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 press'd its signet sage, Yet had not quench'd 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, Of hasty love, or headlong ire. His limbs were cast in manly mould, 'For hardy sports, or contest bold ; And though in peaceful garb array'd. And weaponless, except his blade. 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 trod the shore. Slighting the petty need he show'd. He told of his benighted road ; His ready speech flow'd fair and free. In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; Yet seem'd that tone, and gesture bland, Less used to sue than to command. XXII. Awhile the maid the Stranger eyed, And, reassured, at length replied, That Highland halls were open still To wilder'd wanderers of the hill. " Nor think you unexpected come To yon lone Isle, our desert home ; Before the heath had lost the dew. This morn, a couch was puU'd for you ; On yonder mountain's purple head Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled. And our broad nets have swept the mere. To furnish forth your evening cheer." — " Now, by the rood, my lovely maid. Your courtesy has err'd," he said : " No right have I to claim, misplaced, 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 dra^vn your mountain air. Tin on this lake's romantic strand, I found a fay in fairy land." — XXIII. " I well believe," the maid replied. As her light skiff approaoh'd the side, — " I well believe, that ne'er before Your foot has trod Loch-Katrine's shore ; But yet, as far as yesternight. Old Allan-baue foretold your plight, — A gray-hair'd sire, whose eye intent Was on the vision'd future bent. He saw your steed, a dappled gray. Lie dead beneath the birchen way ; Painted exact your form and mien. Your hunting suit of Lincoln green. That tassell'd horn so gaily gilt. That faulchion's crooked blade and hUt, 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 ; But light I held his prophecy, And deem'd it was my father's horn, WTiose echoes o'er the lake were borne." — xxrv. The Stranger smiled : — " Since to your home A destined errant knight I come. Announced by prophet sooth and old, Loom'd, 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 Your fairy frigate o'er the tide." — THE CHASE. 11 The maid, with smile suppress'd and sly, The toil unwonted saw him try ; For seldom, sure, if e'er before. His noble hand had grasp'd an oar : Yet with main sti'ength liis strokes he drew, And o'er the lake the shallop flew; With heads erect, and whimpering cry, Tlie hounds behind their passage ply. Nor frequent does the bright oar break The darkening mirror of the lake, Until the rocky isle they reach. And moor their shallop on the beach. XXV. The Stranger view'd the shore around ; 'Twas all so close with copse-wood bound, Nor track nor pathway might declare That human foot frequented there, Until the mountain-maiden show'd A clambering unsuspected road. That winded through the tangled screen, And open'd on a narrow green, Where weeping birch and willow round With their long fibres swept the ground ; Here, for retreat in dangerous hour. Some chief had framed a rustic bower. XXVI. It was a lodge of ample size. But strange of structure and device ; Of such materials as around The workman's hand had readiest found. Lopp'd of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, And by the hatchet rudely squared, To give the walls their destined height. The sturdy oak and ash unite ; AVhile moss and clay and leaves combined To fence each crevice from the wind. The lighter pine-trees, over head, Their slender length for rafters spread. And wither'd heath and rushes dry Supplied a russet canopy. Due westward, fronting to the green, A rural portico was seen. Aloft on native pillars borne. Of mountain fir with bark unshorn, "\Miere Ellen's hand had taught to twine The ivy and Idsean vine, The clematis, the favour'd flower Wliich boasts the name of virgin-bower. And every hardy plant could bear Loch-Katrine's keen and searching air. An instant in this porch she stay'd. And gaily to the Stranger said, " On heaven and on thy lady call, And enter the enchanted hall ! " — • XXVII. "My hope, my heaven, my trust must be. My gentle guide, in following thee." — He cross'd the threshold — and a clang Of angry steel that instant rang. To his bold brow his spirit rush'd. But soon for vain alarm he blush'd. When on the floor he saw display'd. Cause of the din, a naked blade, Dropp'd from the sheath, that careless flung Upon a stag's huge antlers swung ; For all around, the walls to grace. Hung trophies of the fight or chase : A target there, a bugle here, A battle-axe, a himting spear. And broad-swords, bows, and arrows store. With the tusk'd trophies of the boar. Here grins the wolf as when he died, And there the wild cat's brindled hide The frontlet of the elk adorns. Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ; Pennons and flags defaced and stain'd, That blackening streaks of blood retain'd. And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white. With otter's fur and seal's, unite. In rude and uncouth tapestry all. To garnish forth the sylvan hall. XXVIII. The wondering Stranger round him gazed. And next the fallen weapon raised ; — Few were the arms whose sinewy strength Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. And as the brand he pois'd and sway'd, " I never knew but one," he said, " TN^iose stalwart arm might brook to wield A blade like this in battle-field." — She sigh'd, then smiled and took the word, " You see the guardian champion's sword ; 12 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. As light it trembles in his hand, As in my grasp a hazel wand ; My sire's tall form might grace the part Of Ferragus, or Ascabart ; But in the absent giant's hold Are women now, and menials old." — XXIX. The mistress of the mansion came, Mature of age, a graceful dame ; Whose easy step and stately port Had well become a princely court. To whom though more than kindred knew. Young Ellen gave a mother's due. Meet welcome to her guest she made. And every courteous rite was paid That hospitality could claim. Though all unask'd his birth and name. Such then the reverence to a guest, That fellest foe might join the feast, And from his deadliest foeman's door Unquestion'd turn, the banquet o'er. At length his rank the Stranger names, "The knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz- James ; Lord of a barren heritage, Which his brave sires, from age to age. By their good swords had held with toil ; His sire had fallen in such turmoil. And he, God wot, was forced to stand Oft for his right with blade in hand. This morning with Lord Moray's train He chased a stalwart stag in vain, Outstripp'd his comrades, miss'd the deer. Lost his good steed, and wander'd here." — Fain would the Knight in turn require The name and state of Ellen's sire ; Well show'd the elder lady's mien, That courts and cities she had seen : Ellen, though more her looks display'd The simple grace of sylvan maid, In speech and gesture, form and face, Show'd .she was come of gentle race ; 'Twere strange in ruder rank to find Such looks, such manners, and such mind. Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, Dame Margaret heard with silence grave ; Or EUen, innocently gay, Turn'd all inquiry light away ; " Weird women we ! by dale and down We dwell, afar from tower and town. We stem the flood, we ride the blast, On wandering knights our speUs we cast ; While viewless minstrels touch the string, 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing." — She sung, and stiU a harp unseen Fill'd up the symphony between. " Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er. Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; Dream of battled fields no more. Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall. Hands unseen thy couch are strewing. Fairy strains of music fall. Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more ; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking. Mom of toil, nor night of waking. " No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Armour's clang, or war-steed champing, Trump nor pibroch summon here Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come At the daybreak from the fallow. And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near. Guards nor warders challenge here. Here's no war-steed's neigli and champing, Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping." THE CHASE. 13 SOLDIER, REST! THY WARFARE O'ER. .misic by DliVIii SMALL. M AndxmU, :?2r ::^t ^ ^' =p: -t Sol dier, rest ! thy war - fare o'er, Sleep the sleep that ^ ^fe ^3= 122. ^&^-I =|: 4: knows not break - ing ; Dream of bat - tied fields no more, .... ^^ ~^- s-«--?i- ra??. :^^- :t i*r=iJ= mf Days of dan - ger, nights of wak - ing. In our isle's en- ^ ^ =P2^ -i*-(*-i*-(*-i*-*-i-i-i-S-i5: «S*- ^-z P -^ t ' \ — Hands un - seen thy couch are strew - ing, J- chant - ed hall, S ii-U- ?2: -l-i-1- 14 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. tr p rp2= -^- Fair - - y strains ^r^ii.-: of mu - sic fall. Ev :5r=;i: ^::^ ':i^:4i^ ry sense -p:^* -'*'i^ P=^-*:^=*--3=1: :S==:^ P izi: i;^ rail. tempo. %=^-- slum - bar dew - ing. Sol dier, rest ! thy war - fare o'er, p^=|^^^^ypE|^^g|^.;^iii:ii?^ !Mi rt 1 fields no =1= J~- dier, rest ! thy ^ 1^ Dream of fight - ini more ; Sol i-< n rn '53i=fff =P2= ^-£=t=i S-l ,i *P" ;ft!?=q:p:p:=i=P=»: =iz: i sjf. =?= :=pc ^-=J===Pi= :-gi war a4 fare ^¥= Dream of fight -i- ine - fields no more ! i^z^ij: gl =ci: -t: =P2= THE CHASE. 15 ^fc«z ^ ^- =t Sleep the sleep that knows not break - ing, Mom of toil, nor ;k^^3^^^i^^s ^i^^ ^■ ■ -j^ '^a^- w^~ m ^- S =P2= ad lib. ^ :?=; d::c night of wak ^^^^ Si =T ^ ?2- P dl -=\- -^-zi-^—i 1 1 ^ ^j ^— I 1- 3E?; -)=^= r-r—^r XXXII. She paused — then, blushing, led the lay To grace the stranger of the day. Her meUow notes awhile prolong The cadence of the flowing song, TLU to her lips in measured frame The minstrel verse spontaneous came. SONG CONTINUED. " Himtsman, rest ! thy chase is done, Wliile our slumbrous spells assail ye, Dream not, with the rising sun, Bugles here shaU sound reveillie. Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying ; Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen, How thy gallant steed lay djnng. Huntsman, rest ; thy chase is done, Think not of the rising sun, For at dawning to assail ye, Here no bugles sound reveillie." The hall was clear'd — the Strangei-'s ved Was there of mountain heather spread, "WTiere oft an hundred guests had lain,- And dream'd their forest sports again. But vainly did the heath-flower shed Its moorland fragrance round his head ; Not Ellen's spell had luU'd to rest The fever of his troubled breast. In broken dreams the image rose Of varied perils, pains, and woes ; His steed now flounders in the brake, Now sinks his barge upon the lake ; Now leader of a broken host. His standard falls, his honour's lost. Then, — from my couch may heavenly might Chase that worse phantom of the night ! — Again return'd the scenes of youth, Of confident undoubting truth ; Again his soul he interchanged With friends whose hearts were long es- tranged. 16 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. They come, m dim procession led, The cold, the faitliless, and the dead ; As warm each hand, each brow as gay, As if they parted yesterday. And doubt distracts him at the view, O were his senses false or true ! Dream'd he of death, or broken vow, Or is it all a vision now ! At length witli Ellen in a grove He seem'd to walk, and speak of love ; She listen'd with a blush and sigh, His suit was warm, his hopes were high. He sought her yielded hand to clasp, And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : The phantom's sex was changed and gone, Upon its head a helmet shone ; Slowly enlarged to giant size, With darken'd cheek and threatening eyes, The grisly visage, stern and hoar. To Ellen stiU a likeness bore. — He woke, and, panting with affright, Eecall'd the vision of the night. The hearth's decaying brands were red. And deep and dusky lustre shed. Half showing, half concealing all The uncouth trophies of the hall. Mid those the Stranger fixed his eye Wliere that huge faidchion hung on liigh. And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, Kush'd, chasing countless thoughts along, Until, the giddy whirl to cure. He rose, and sought the moonshine pure. The wild rose, eglantine, and broom. Wasted around their rich perfume ; The birch trees wept in fragrant balm, The aspen slept beneath the calm ; The silver light, with quivering glance, Play'd on the water's still expanse, — Wild were the heart whose passion's sway Could rage beneath the sober ray ! He felt its calm, that warrior guest, While thus he communed with his breast : " Why is it at each turn I trace Some memory of that exiled race? Can I not mountain maiden spy, But she must bear the Douglas eye ? Can I not view a Highland brand. But it must match the Douglas hand? Can I not frame a fever'd dream. But still the Douglas is the theme? — I'll dream no more — by manly mind Not e'en in sleep is will resign'd. My midnight orisons said o'er, I'll turn to rest, and dream no more." — His midnight orison he told, A prayer with every bead of gold, Consign'd to heaven his cares and woes. And sunk in undisturb'd repose ; Until the heath-cock shrilly crew. And morning dawn'd on Ben-venue. CANTO SECOND. THE ISLAND. At morn the black-cock trims liis jetty wing. 'Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay; All Nature's children feel the matin spring Of life reviving, with reviving day ; And while yon little bark glides down the bay, Wafting the Stranger on his way again, Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray, And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, Mix'd with the sounding harp, white-hair'd Allan Bane. " Xot faster yonder rowers' might Fling from their oars the spraj', Not faster yonder rippling bright. That tracks the shallop's course in light, Melts in the lake away. Than men from memory erase The benefits of former days ; Then, Stranger, go ! good speed the while. Nor think again of the lonely isle. " High place to thee in royal court, High place in battled line. Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport, Where Beauty sees the brave resort. The honour'd meed be thine ! True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, Thy lady constant, kind and dear, And lost in love's and friendship's smile, Be memory of the lonely isle." .ni. SONG CONTINUED. ■ But if beneath yon southern sky A plaided stranger roam, Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh. And sunken cheek and heavy eye, Pine for his Highland home ; Then, warrior, then be thine to show The care that soothes a wanderer's wo ; Remember then thy hap erewhQe, A stranger in the lonely isle. " Or if on life's uncertain main Mishap shall mar thy sail ; If, faithful, wise, and bravo in vain, Wo, want, and exile thou sustain Beneath the fickle gale ; Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, On thankless courts, or friends estranged. But come where kindred worth shall smile, To greet thee in the lonely isle." — 18 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Moderato. NOT FASTER YONDER ROWERS' MIGHT. Arranged by -Oiinf) SJtfiiZZ. ^EE ^^ Not fast - er yon - der ^: ^^=* -^ i^g=at -I— J- :^^^5^ ^E S==^^=f :r1: N^*^ ■f:-0—^- SSEfE tint: i^ -f=— p- ip=r= 1 — r- -t — t- *; :1=:J= ^ ■ — ^~^\ — ^—^■ :^=3t=Pi j-j^ai4tg:^-j=j- # 1 # 1- -I ■- -^-M \ -I* — -^ ^:5r-* rowers' might Flings from their oars the spray, Not fast - er yon - der rippling bright, That bi— d J- r^- I h— !»»^r^, , ^ -r^ — j - -ffi* 1 1 1 ^ — !-_( i «i-_i 1 i-l 1 1 ~ l-i — I 1 1 ^ 3^^ St I 1^;^ Ht*: t^^^ f*- -f - -s- -f- * ■^--^-•^ Iff=pl f- -s—^- r-gt=P=p— hr= ^f i 1 1- -t 1- -i — r rail. ^tt=P= -f^m^^ ■a^ --w--=^ :]=:p:=p; :^r i[=t iS=*i ±: ■is----*: tracts the shal - lop's course in hght, Melts in the lake a - way, . , I Melts in the lake a - way. A 4 ; 1 1 1 I i' -^=^ S*: -J \- -m — "1 — »H- zi=q=p=:^=^ ^^— -^ —4 ^ 1 _| ^ ^ ^— ^ / ere. mf s p 3: «1S: ^g^ it^t It s; ^= :S=ri :r=j: ?^^t^: -*■ -zg.-^ ii=* H ^— =!- r*z=*r =P=e if=ff- ip:=3pr =P=P::p: iff:=ff= :z_-p-— p— aairzirp — #— *— j rj: Tlian men from mem - o - ry e - rase The ben - e - fits of for - mer days ; Then, 1 ^ :1= ■A- 3f=ff: ^tr :5-^: S 1^-^^ -• m m- -F 1* !•-- ii=*: 3i?*=3?i='*i=p: ^.i=t^: p: rsl — •; — •'=rp=|!!'; :^: :^i Fa= P^-=i? -I — \— THE ISLAND. 19 Stranger, go ! good speed the while, Nor think a -gain of the lone-Iy isle; Then, Stranger, go ! good * J- ^^^^i P^ T=t r-n ^ -.^ =1= r-w-rf^ ^ rail. ^^ :t ::ew ^r^- ^X=f^ -1W= ^j m l^-al—ii i- -tf—at^. :!= speed the while. Nor think a - gain of the lone-ly isle. i E* rail. «=^- Si^ ::f^ —1—4=-^- -« P= 1- 1_ — \--J-ii±g=ai-^: =5= gS: ^■ -•i-w:. ''"^S^ :^ ^^^W=T- ^^. -e^-^ -\ ^- S=^ ^: --=t 4W--ff^ ±=\z =i=i: ^- f '-^9^ ■^z As died the sounds upon the tide, The shallop reach'd the main-land side, And ere his onward way he took, The Stranger cast a lingering look, Wliere easily his eye might reach The Harper on the islet beach. Reclined against a blighted tree. As wasted, gray, and worn as he. To minstrel meditation given. His reverend brow was raised to heaven. As from the rising sun to claim A sparkle of inspiring flame. His hand, reclined upon the wire, Seem'd watching the awakening fire ; So still he sate, as those who wait TiU judgment speak the doom of fate ; So stUl, as if no breeze might dare To lift one lock of hoary hair ; So still, as life itself were fled. In the last sound his harp had sped. Upon a rock with lichens wild, Beside him Ellen sate and smiled. Smiled she to see the stately drake Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, Wliile her vex'd spaniel, from the beach, Bay'd at the prize beyond his reach ? Yet tell me then the maid who knows. Why deepen'd on her cheek the rose? — Forgive, forgive, Fidelity ! Perchance the maiden smiled to see Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, And stop and turn to wave anew ; And, lovely ladies, ere your ire Condemn the heroine of my lyre, Show me the fair woidd scorn to spy And prize such conquest of her eye ! While yet he loiter'd on the spot. It seem'd as Ellen mark'd him not; 20 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. But when lie turn'J him to the glade, One courteous parting sign she made ; And after, oft the Knight wonld say, That not when prize of festal day Was dealt him by the brightest fair, Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, So highly did his bosom swell, As at that simple, mute farewell. Now with a trusty mountain guide, And his dark stag-hounds by his side, He parts — the maid, unconscious still. Watch 'd him wind slowly round the hill ; But when his stately form was hid. The guardian in her bosom chid — " Thy Malcolm ! vain and selfish maid ! " 'Twas thus upbraiding conscience said, " Not so had Malcolm idly hung On the smooth phrase of southern tongue ; Not so had Malcolm strain'd his eye, Another step than thine to spy. — ■ Wake, Allan-bane," aloud she cried, To the old Minstrel by her side, " Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! I'U give thy harp heroic theme, And warm thee with a noble name ; Pour forth the glory of the Graeme." Scarce from her lip the word had rush'd. When deep the conscious maiden blush'd ; For of his clan, in hall and bower, Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower." vn. The Minstrel waked his harp — three times Arose the well-known martial chimes, And thrice their high heroic pride In melancholy murmurs died. — " Vainly thou bid'st, noble maid," Clasping his wither'd hands, he said, " Vainly thou bid'st me wake the strain, Though all unwont to hid in vain. Alas ! than mine a mightier hand Has tuned my harp, my strings has spann'd ! I touch the chords of joy, but low And mournful answer notes of wo ; And the proud march which victors tread Sinks in the wailing for the dead. — well for me, if mine alone That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! If, as my tuneful fathers said. This harp, which erst Saint Modan sway'd, Can thus its master's fate foretell, Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ! VIII. " But ah ! dear lady, thus it sigh'd The eve thy sainted mother died ; And such the sounds which, while I strove To wake a lay of war or love. Came marring all the festal mirth, Appalling me who gave them birth, And, disobedient to my call, Wail'd loud through Bothwell's banner'd hall. Ere Douglasses, to ruin driven. Were exiled from their native heaven. — Oh ! if yet worse mishap and wo My master's house must undergo, Or aught but weal to Ellen fair. Brood in these accents of despair, No future bard, sad Harp ! shall fling Triumph or rapture from thy string ; One short, one final strain shall flow. Fraught with unutterable wo, Then shiver'd shall thy fragments lie, Thy master cast him down and die." IX. Soothing she answer'd him, "Assuage Mine honour'd friend, the fears of age ; AH melodies to thee are known. That harp has rung, or pipe has blown, in Lowland vale or Highland glen, From Tweed to Spey — what marvel, then. At times, unbidden notes should rise. Confusedly bound in memory's ties, Entangling, as they rush along. The war-march with the funeral song? — SmaU ground is now for boding fear ; Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. My sire, in native virtue great, Resigning lordship, lands, and state. Not then to fortune more resign'd. Than yonder oak might give the wind : The graceful foliage storms may reave. The noble stem they cannot grieve. For me," — she stoop'd, and, lookinj i ■ Pluck'd a blue hare-bell from the gio ; THE ISLAND. 21 " For me, whose memory scarce conveys An image of more splendid days, This little flower that loves the lea, May well my simple emblem be ; It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose That in the King's own garden grows ; And when I place it in my hair, Allan, a bard is bound to swear He ne'er saw coronet so fair." — Then playfully the chaplet wild She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled. Her smile, her speech, with winning sway, Wiled the old harper's mood away. With such a look as hermits tlirow Wlien angels stoop to soothe their wo. He gazed till fond regret and pride Thrill'd to a tear, then thus replied : " Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st The rank, the honours thou hast lost ! might I live to see thee grace, In Scotland's court, thy birthright place. To see my favourite's step advance. The lightest in the courtly dance. The cause of every gallant's sigh, And leading star of every eye. And theme of every minstrel's art. The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!"* XI. " Fair dreams are these," the maiden cried, (Light was her accent, yet she sigh'd,) " Yet is this mossy rock to me Worth splendid chair and canopy ; Nor would my footstep spring more gay In courtly dance than blithe strathspey. Nor half so pleased mine ear incline To royal minstrel's lay as thine ; And then for suitors proud and high, To bend before my conquering eye. Thou, flattering bard! thyself wilt say. That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride. The terror of Loch-Lomond's side. • The well-known cognisance of the Douglas femily. Would, at uiy suit, thou know'st, delay A Lennox foray — for a ilary." The ancient bard his glee repress'd : " 111 hast thou chosen theme for jest ! For who, through all tliis western wild, Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled ! In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; I saw, when back the dirk he drew. Courtiers give place before the stride Of the undaunted homicide ; And since, though outlaw'd, hath liis hand Full sternly kept his mountain land. Who else dared give, — ah ! wo the day, That I such hated truth should say, — The Douglas, like a stricken deer, Disown'd by every noble peer. Even the rude refuge we have here. Alas, tliis wild marauding chief Alone might hazard our relief. And now thy maiden charms expand. Looks for his guerdon in thy hand; Full soon may dispensation sought, To back his suit, from Rome be brought. Then though an exile on the hiU, Thy father, as the Douglas, still Be held in reverence and fear; And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear. That thou might'st guide with silken thread. Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread ; Yet, loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! Thy hand is on a lion's mane." " Minstrel," the maid replied, and high Her father's soul glanced from her eye, " My debts to Roderick's house I know : All that a mother could bestow. To Lady Margaret's care I owe, Since first an orphan in the wild She sorrow'd o'er her sister's child : To her brave chieftain son, from ire Of Scotland's King who shrouds my sire, A deeper, holier debt is owed ; And, could I pay it with my blood. 22 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Allan ! Sir Koderick should command My blood, my life, — but not my hand. Kather wiU EUen Douglas dwell A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; Rather through realms beyond the sea, Seeking the world's cold charity. Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, And ne'er the name of Douglas heard. An outcast pilgrim will she rove. Than wed the man she cannot love. XIV. " Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses gray, That pleading look, what can it say But what I own 1 — I grant him brave. But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave ; And generous — save vindictive mood, Or jealous transport, chafe his blood ; I grant him true to friendly band, As his claymore is to his hand ; But O ! that very blade of steel More mercy for a foe would feel ; I grant him liberal, to fling Among his clan the wealth they bring, MTien back by lake and glen they wind. And in the Lowland leave behind, Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, A mass of ashes slaked with blood. The hand that for my father fought, I honour, as his daughter ought ; But can I clasp it reeking red, From peasants slaughter'd in their shed? No ! wildly while his virtues gleam. They make his passions darker seem. And flash along his spirit high, Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. Wliile yet a child, — and children know. Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — I shudder'd at his brow of gloom. His shadowy plaid, and sable plume ; A maiden grown, I ill could bear His haughty mien and lordly air ; But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim. In serious mood, to Roderick's name, I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er A Douglas knew the word, with fear. To change such odious theme were best — Whut think'st thou of our stranger guest?" "What think I of him? — wo the while That brought sucli wanderer to our isle ! Thy father's battle-brand, of yore For Tineman forged by fairy lore, Wliat time he leagued, no longer foes, His border spears with Hotspur's bows, Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow The footstep of a secret foe. If courtly spy had harbour'd here. What may we for the Douglas fear? What for this island, deem'd of old Clan- Alpine's last and surest hold ! If neither spy nor foe, I pray What yet may jealous Roderick say? — Nay, wave not thy disdainful head ! Bethink thee of the tliscord dread, That kindled when at Beltane game Thou led'st the dance with Malcolm Grseme; Still, though thy sire the peace renew'd, Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud ; Beware ! — But hark, what sounds are these 1 My duU ears catch no faltering breeze. No weeping birch, nor aspens wake, Nor breath is dimpling in the lake, StiU is the canna's* hoary beard. Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — And hark again ! — some pipe of war Sends the bold pibroch from afar." XVI. Far up the lengthen'd lake were spied Four darkening specks upon the tide, That, slow, enlarging on the view. Four mann'd and masted barges grew, And bearing downwards from Glengyle, Steer'd fidl upon the lonely isle; The point of Brianchoil they pass'd. And, to the windward as they cast. Against the sun they gave to shine The bold Sir Roderick's banner'd Pine. Nearer and nearer as they bear. Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. Now might you see the tartans brave, And plaids and plumage dance and wave; ♦ Cotton-grass. THE ISLAND. 23 Now see the bonnets sink auJ rise, As his tough oar the rower plies ; See flashing at each sturdy stroke, The wave ascending into smoke ; See the proud pipers on tlie bow, And mark the gaudy streamers flow From their loud chanters* down, and sweep The furrow'd bosom of the deep. As rushing through the lake amain, They plied the ancient Highland strain. Ever, as on they bore, more loud And louder rung the pibroch proud. At first the sound, by distance tame, Mellow'd along the waters came, And lingering long by cape and bay, Wail'd every harsher note away ; Then bursting bolder on the ear, The clan's shriU Gathering they could hear ; Those thrilling sounds, that call the might Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight. Thick beat the rapid notes, as when The mustering hundreds shake the glen, And hurrying at the signal dread. The batter'd earth returns their tread. Then prelude light, of livelier tone, Express'd their merry marching on. Ere peal of closing battle rose. With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows ; And mimic din of stroke and ward. As broadsword upon target jarr'd ; And groaning pause, ere yet again. Condensed, the battle yell'd amain ; The rapid charge, the rallying shout, Retreat borne headlong into rout. And bursts of triumph, to declare ClanAlpine's conquest — all were there. Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow. Sunk in a moan prolong'd and low. And changed the conquering clarion swell. For wild lament o'er those that fell. The war-pipes ceased ; but lake and hill Were busy with their echoes still ; * Tlie drone of the bay-i)ipe. And, when they slept, a vocal strain Bade their hoarse chorus wake again. While loud an hundred clansmen raise Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. Each boatman, bending to his oar. With measured sweep the burden bore. In such wild cadence as the breeze Makes through December's leafless trees. The chorus first could Allan know, " Roderich Vich Alpine, ho ! iro ! " And near, and nearer as they row'd. Distinct the martial ditty flow'd. xn. BOAT SONG. Had to the Chief who in triumph advances ! Honour'd and bless'd be the ever-green Pine ! Long may the Tree in his banner that glances, Flourish, tlie shelter and grace of our line ! Heaven send it happy dew. Earth lend it sap anew, GaUy to bourgeon, and broadly to grow ; While every Higliland glen Sends our shout back again, " Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain. Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade : When the whirlwind has stripp'd every leaf on the mountain The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. Moor'd in the rifted rock. Proof to tlie tempest's shock. Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; Menteith and Breadalbane, then. Echo his praise again, " Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " Proudly our pibroch has thriU'd in Glen Fruin, And Banochar's groans to our Slogan replied ; Glen Luss and Ross-Dhu, they are smoking in ruin. And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side. Widow and Saxon maid Long shall lament our raid, • 24 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Think of Clan-Alpiue with fear aud with wo ; ! that the rose-bud that graces you islands Lennox and Leven-glen Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine. SI lake when they hear again, that some seedling gem, " Koderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " Worthy such noble stem. Honour'd and bless'd in their shadow, might grow ! Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the High- Loud should Clan-Alpine then lands ! Eing from her deepmost glen, Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine ! " Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " AUegro. Con spirito. HAIL TO THE CHIEF. :4rranffed by DAVIS SMALL. m^ fi=j;=j^=r^ r tit :*-S= \-=r- ^-=\-v=^ V^^-a*- -%=^-=i^-^^tj=i=m. 3=3^ -f^^- =g=P — »- f ]^ -J^I ^ r:^ rat=i ^^^^-tts^ E^5t Hail to the Chief who in tri-umph ad - van - ces ! Honour'd and bless'd be the ev - er-green Pine ! ^-^-f^^^ i^ x=.-=\- H =q- -q-cii]— =1— -4— -J- -m — ^ — m- i=t ^^^^: :^s=s; ii — I _i— — -S-^ — ^ ^=S^=E^SH^E^_^ zm^z^z Long may the Tree in his ban-ner that glan - ces, Flourish, the shel-ter and grace of our line: J^ ■^=B- -i=^ THE ISLAND. 25 / roll. :^izr*=ffi qs:::qir i> i 1^ — ^ — >^ — w — 1^" — IS iM*=ffi -^v ^ — t^- ^=g *nr«: Heav'n sen J it hap -py dew, Earth leud it sap a - new, Gai - ly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow; I 1 I — ' — ^ ' — * • H ^- H — ». — ^ ^=P= tempo. =gzzj±:g i=^=: g =:g=^:g^;^v:jzj ii:^ qir=15- r^ :*=S: :1t=S; -S-; While ev'ry Highland glen Sends our shout back again," Koderigh Vich ^U-pine Dhu, ho ! i - er - oe ! p|^^.^^5=| ;=1= ad lib. iz^=S: si Eode - righ, Kode - righ, Kode - righ, Kode - righ, Koderigh Vich Al - pine Dhu, ho ! i - er - oe ! " t^n -« =5- / -^ ^ ^-^-"-*--- r ^-=A -^-^-H -*- 5t i -^- :J=:q=d =g:- ^— P^ 26 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. XXI. Witli all lier joyful female baud, Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, And high their snowy arms they threw. As echoing back with shriU acclaim, And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name ; While, prompt to please, with mother's art, The darling passion of his heart. The dame call'd Ellen to the strand To greet her kinsman ere he land : " Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, And shun to wreathe a victor's brow ? " Reluctantly and slow, the maid Th' unwelcome summoning obey'd. And, when a distant bugle rung, Tn the mid-path aside she sprung : " List, AUan-bane ! From main-land cast, I hear my father's signal blast. Be ours," she cried, " the skiff to guide. And waft him from the mountain side." Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright, She darted to her slialhip light, And, eagerly while Roderick scann'd, For her dear form, his mother's band. The islet far behind her lay. And she had landed in the bay. Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis tliat which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head ! And as the Douglas to his breast His darling Ellen closely press'd, Such holy drops her tresses steep'd. Though 'twas an hero's eye that weep'd ; Nor, while on Ellen's faltering tongue Her filial welcomes crowded hung, Mark'd she, that fear (affection's proof) Still held a graceful youth aloof; No ! not till Douglas named his name, Although the youth was Malcolm Grseme. XXIII. Allan, with wistful look the while, Mark'd Roderick landing on the isle ; His master piteously he eyed. Then gazed upon the Cliieftain's pride. Then dash'd, with ha^ty hand, away From his dimm'd eye the gathering spray ; And Douglas, as his hand he laid On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said, " Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy In my poor follower's glistening eye ? I'U tell thee : — he recalls the day. When in my praise he led the lay O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud. While many a minstrel answer'd loud, When Percy's Norman pennon, won In bloody field, before me shone. And twice ten knights, the least a name As mighty as yon chief may claim. Gracing my pomp, behind me came. Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud Was I of all that marshaU'd crowd. Though the waned crescent own'd ray might. And in my train troop'd lord and knight, Though Blantyre hymn'd her holiest lays. And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise. As when this old man's silent tear. And tliis poor maid's affection dear, A welcome give more kind and true Than aught my better fortunes knew. Forgive, my friend, a father's boast ; ! it out-beggars all I lost ! " Delightful praise ! — like summer rose. That brighter in the dew-drop glows. The bashfid maiden's cheek appear'd. For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. The flush of shamefaced joy to hide. The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide ; The loved caresses of the maid The dogs with crouch and whimper paid ; And, at her whistle, on her hand The falcon took his favourite stand. Closed his dark wing, relax'd his eye. Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. And, trust, while in such guise she stood, Like fabled Goddess of the Wood, THE ISLAND. 27 That if a father's partial thought O'ei'weigh'd her wortli and beauty aught, Well might the lover's judgment fail To balance with a juster scale; For with each secret glance he stole, The fond enthusiast sent his soul. Of stature fair, and slender frame, But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme; The belted plaid and tartan hose Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose ; His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, Curl'd closely round his bonnet blue. Train'd to the chase, his eagle eye The ptarmigan in snow could spy ; Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, He knew, through Lennox and Menteith ; Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe, Wlien Malcolm bent his sounding bow, And scarce that doe, though wing'd with fear, Outstripp'd in speed the mountaineer : Eriglit up Ben-Lomond could he press. And not a sob his toil confess. His form accorded with a mind Lively and ardent, frank and kind ; A blither heart, till Ellen came. Did never love nor sorrow tame. It danced as lightsome in his breast. As play'd the feather on his crest. Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth. His scorn of AVTOng, his zeal for truth. And bards, who saw his features bold. When kiniUed by the tales of old. Said, were that youth to manhood grown, Not long should Eoderick Dhu's renown Be foremost voiced by mountain fame. But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme. Now back they wend their watery way. And, " my sire ! " did Ellen say, "Why urge thy chase so far astray? And why so late returned? And why"- The rest was in her speaking eye. "My child, the chase I follow far, 'Tis mimicry of noble war ; And with that gallant pastime reft, Were all of Douglas I have left. I met young Malcolm as I stray'd Far eastward, in Glentinlas' shade. Nor stray'd I safe, for, all around, Hunters and horsemen scour'd the ground. This youth, though still a royal ward, Eisked Ufe and land to be my guard. And through the passes of the wood Guided my steps, not unpursued ; And Roderick shall his welcome make, Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. Then must he seek Strath-Endriok glen. Nor peril aught for me again." XXVII. Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, Redden'd at sight of Malcolm Graeme, Yet, not in action, word or eye, Fail'd aught in hospitality. In talk and sport they whiled away The morning of that .summer day ; But at high noon a courier light Held secret parley with the Knight, \\^lose moody aspect soon declared. That evil were the news he heard. Deep thought seem'd toUing in his head; Yet was the evening banquet made, Ere he assembled round the flame. His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme, And Ellen, too ; then cast around His eyes, then fix'd them on the ground, As studying phrase that might avail Best to convey unplea.sant tale. Long with his dagger's hilt he play'd. Then raised his haughty brow, and said : XXVIII. " Short be my speech ; — nor time affords, Nor my plain temper, glozing words. Kinsman and father, — if such name Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim ; Mine honour'd mother; Ellen — why, My cousin, turn away thine eye? — And Graeme ; in whom I hope to know Full soon a noble friend or foe, Wlien age shall give thee thy command, And leading in thy native land, — • 28 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. List all ! — The King's vin