Part 13

XXVI.

Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed, When Ellen's hints and fears were lost; But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, And Blanche's song conviction brought. Not like a stag that spies the snare, But lion of the hunt aware, He waved at once his blade on high, 'Disclose thy treachery, or die!' Forth at hell speed the Clansman flew, But in his race his bow he drew. The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest, And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast.-- Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed, For ne'er had Alpine's son such need; With heart of fire, and foot of wind, The fierce avenger is behind! Fate judges of the rapid strife-- The forfeit death--the prize is life; Thy kindred ambush lies before, Close couched upon the heathery moor; Them couldst thou reach!--it may not be Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see, The fiery Saxon gains on thee!-- Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, As lightning strikes the pine to dust; With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain Ere he can win his blade again. Bent o'er the fallen with falcon eye, He grimly smiled to see him die, Then slower wended back his way, Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.

XXVII.

She sat beneath the birchen tree, Her elbow resting on her knee; She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, And gazed on it, and feebly laughed; Her wreath of broom and feathers gray, Daggled with blood, beside her lay. The Knight to stanch the life-stream tried,-- 'Stranger, it is in vain!' she cried. 'This hour of death has given me more Of reason's power than years before; For, as these ebbing veins decay, My frenzied visions fade away. A helpless injured wretch I die, And something tells me in thine eye That thou wert mine avenger born. Seest thou this tress?--O. still I 've worn This little tress of yellow hair, Through danger, frenzy, and despair! It once was bright and clear as thine, But blood and tears have dimmed its shine. I will not tell thee when 't was shred, Nor from what guiltless victim's head,-- My brain would turn!--but it shall wave Like plumage on thy helmet brave, Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, And thou wilt bring it me again. I waver still.--O God! more bright Let reason beam her parting light!-- O. by thy knighthood's honored sign, And for thy life preserved by mine, When thou shalt see a darksome man, Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan, With tartars broad and shadowy plume, And hand of blood, and brow of gloom Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong!-- They watch for thee by pass and fell... Avoid the path... O God!... farewell.'

XXVIII.

A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James; Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims; And now, with mingled grief and ire, He saw the murdered maid expire. 'God, in my need, be my relief, As I wreak this on yonder Chief!' A lock from Blanche's tresses fair He blended with her bridegroom's hair; The mingled braid in blood he dyed, And placed it on his bonnet-side: 'By Him whose word is truth, I swear, No other favour will I wear, Till this sad token I imbrue In the best blood of Roderick Dhu!-- But hark! what means yon faint halloo? The chase is up,--but they shall know, The stag at bay 's a dangerous foe.' Barred from the known but guarded way, Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray, And oft must change his desperate track, By stream and precipice turned back. Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length, From lack of food and loss of strength He couched him in a thicket hoar And thought his toils and perils o'er:-- 'Of all my rash adventures past, This frantic feat must prove the last! Who e'er so mad but might have guessed That all this Highland hornet's nest Would muster up in swarms so soon As e'er they heard of bands at Doune?-- Like bloodhounds now they search me out,-- Hark, to the whistle and the shout!-- If farther through the wilds I go, I only fall upon the foe: I'll couch me here till evening gray, Then darkling try my dangerous way.'

XXIX.

The shades of eve come slowly down, The woods are wrapt in deeper brown, The owl awakens from her dell, The fox is heard upon the fell; Enough remains of glimmering light To guide the wanderer's steps aright, Yet not enough from far to show His figure to the watchful foe. With cautious step and ear awake, He climbs the crag and threads the brake; And not the summer solstice there Tempered the midnight mountain air, But every breeze that swept the wold Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. In dread, in danger, and alone, Famished and chilled, through ways unknown, Tangled and steep, he journeyed on; Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, A watch-fire close before him burned.

XXX.

Beside its embers red and clear Basked in his plaid a mountaineer; And up he sprung with sword in hand,-- 'Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!' 'A stranger.' 'What dost thou require?' 'Rest and a guide, and food and fire My life's beset, my path is lost, The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.' 'Art thou a friend to Roderick?' 'No.' 'Thou dar'st not call thyself a foe?' 'I dare! to him and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand.' 'Bold words!--but, though the beast of game The privilege of chase may claim, Though space and law the stag we lend Ere hound we slip or bow we bend Who ever recked, where, how, or when, The prowling fox was trapped or slain? Thus treacherous scouts,--yet sure they lie Who say thou cam'st a secret spy!'-- 'They do, by heaven!--come Roderick Dhu And of his clan the boldest two And let me but till morning rest, I write the falsehood on their crest.' If by the blaze I mark aright Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight.' 'Then by these tokens mayst thou know Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.' 'Enough, enough; sit down and share A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.'

XXXI..

He gave him of his Highland cheer, The hardened flesh of mountain deer; Dry fuel on the fire he laid, And bade the Saxon share his plaid. He tended him like welcome guest, Then thus his further speech addressed:-- 'Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu A clansman born, a kinsman true; Each word against his honour spoke Demands of me avenging stroke; Yet more,--upon thy fate, 'tis said, A mighty augury is laid. It rests with me to wind my horn,-- Thou art with numbers overborne; It rests with me, here, brand to brand, Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand: But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause, Will I depart from honour's laws; To assail a wearied man were shame, And stranger is a holy name; Guidance and rest, and food and fire, In vain he never must require. Then rest thee here till dawn of day; Myself will guide thee on the way, O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward, Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard, As far as Coilantogle's ford; From thence thy warrant is thy sword.' 'I take thy courtesy, by heaven, As freely as 'tis nobly given!' Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry Sings us the lake's wild lullaby.' With that he shook the gathered heath, And spread his plaid upon the wreath; And the brave foemen, side by side, Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, And slept until the dawning beam Purpled the mountain and the stream.

CANTO FIFTH.

The Combat.

Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied, It smiles upon the dreary brow of night And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide And lights the fearful path on mountain-side,-- Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War.

II.

That early beam, so fair and sheen, Was twinkling through the hazel screen When, rousing at its glimmer red, The warriors left their lowly bed, Looked out upon the dappled sky, Muttered their soldier matins try, And then awaked their fire, to steal, As short and rude, their soldier meal. That o'er, the Gael around him threw His graceful plaid of varied hue, And, true to promise, led the way, By thicket green and mountain gray. A wildering path!--they winded now Along the precipice's brow, Commanding the rich scenes beneath, The windings of the Forth and Teith, And all the vales between that lie. Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky; Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance Gained not the length of horseman's lance. 'Twas oft so steep, the foot was as fain Assistance from the hand to gain; So tangled oft that, bursting through, Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew,-- That diamond dew, so pure and clear, It rivals all but Beauty's tear!

III.

At length they came where, stern and steep, The hill sinks down upon the deep. Here Vennachar in silver flows, There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose; Ever the hollow path twined on, Beneath steep hank and threatening stone; A hundred men might hold the post With hardihood against a host. The rugged mountain's scanty cloak Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak With shingles bare, and cliffs between And patches bright of bracken green, And heather black, that waved so high, It held the copse in rivalry. But where the lake slept deep and still Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill; And oft both path and hill were torn Where wintry torrent down had borne And heaped upon the cumbered land Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. So toilsome was the road to trace The guide, abating of his pace, Led slowly through the pass's jaws And asked Fitz-James by what strange cause He sought these wilds, traversed by few Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.

IV.

'Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried Hangs in my belt and by my side Yet, sooth to tell,' the Saxon said, 'I dreamt not now to claim its aid. When here, but three days since, I came Bewildered in pursuit of game, All seemed as peaceful and as still As the mist slumbering on yon hill; Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, Nor soon expected back from war. Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide, Though deep perchance the villain lied.' 'Yet why a second venture try?' 'A warrior thou, and ask me why!-- Moves our free course by such fixed cause As gives the poor mechanic laws? Enough, I sought to drive away The lazy hours of peaceful day; Slight cause will then suffice to guide A Knight's free footsteps far and wide,-- A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed, The merry glance of mountain maid; Or, if a path be dangerous known, The danger's self is lure alone.'

'Thy secret keep, I urge thee not;-- Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, Say, heard ye naught of Lowland war, Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar?' 'No, by my word;--of bands prepared To guard King James's sports I heard; Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear This muster of the mountaineer, Their pennons will abroad be flung, Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.' 'Free be they flung! for we were loath Their silken folds should feast the moth. Free be they flung!--as free shall wave Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave. But, stranger, peaceful since you came, Bewildered in the mountain-game, Whence the bold boast by which you show Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?' 'Warrior, but yester-morn I knew Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, Save as an outlawed desperate man, The chief of a rebellious clan, Who, in the Regent's court and sight, With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight; Yet this alone might from his part Sever each true and loyal heart.'

VI.

Wrathful at such arraignment foul, Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl. A space he paused, then sternly said, 'And heardst thou why he drew his blade? Heardst thou that shameful word and blow Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe? What recked the Chieftain if he stood On Highland heath or Holy-Rood? He rights such wrong where it is given, If it were in the court of heaven.' 'Still was it outrage;--yet, 'tis true, Not then claimed sovereignty his due; While Albany with feeble hand Held borrowed truncheon of command, The young King, mewed in Stirling tower, Was stranger to respect and power. But then, thy Chieftain's robber life!-- Winning mean prey by causeless strife, Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain His herds and harvest reared in vain,-- Methinks a soul like thine should scorn The spoils from such foul foray borne.'

VII.

The Gael beheld him grim the while, And answered with disdainful smile: 'Saxon, from yonder mountain high, I marked thee send delighted eye Far to the south and east, where lay, Extended in succession gay, Deep waving fields and pastures green, With gentle slopes and groves between:-- These fertile plains, that softened vale, Were once the birthright of the Gael; The stranger came with iron hand, And from our fathers reft the land. Where dwell we now? See, rudely swell Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. Ask we this savage hill we tread For fattened steer or household bread, Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, And well the mountain might reply,-- "To you, as to your sires of yore, Belong the target and claymore! I give you shelter in my breast, Your own good blades must win the rest." Pent in this fortress of the North, Think'st thou we will not sally forth, To spoil the spoiler as we may, And from the robber rend the prey? Ay, by my soul!--While on yon plain The Saxon rears one shock of grain, While of ten thousand herds there strays But one along yon river's maze,-- The Gael, of plain and river heir, Shall with strong hand redeem his share. Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold That plundering Lowland field and fold Is aught but retribution true? Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu.'

VIII.

Answered Fitz-James: 'And, if I sought, Think'st thou no other could be brought? What deem ye of my path waylaid? My life given o'er to ambuscade?' 'As of a meed to rashness due: Hadst thou sent warning fair and true,-- I seek my hound or falcon strayed, I seek, good faith, a Highland maid,-- Free hadst thou been to come and go; But secret path marks secret foe. Nor yet for this, even as a spy, Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die, Save to fulfil an augury.' 'Well, let it pass; nor will I now Fresh cause of enmity avow To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. Enough, I am by promise tied To match me with this man of pride: Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen In peace; but when I come again, I come with banner, brand, and bow, As leader seeks his mortal foe. For love-lore swain in lady's bower Ne'er panted for the appointed hour As I, until before me stand This rebel Chieftain and his band!'