Part 10 (1/2)
It will not waken me, Mary!
I may not, dare not, fancy now The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, I dare not think upon thy vow, 555 And all it promised me, Mary.
No fond regret must Norman know; When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, His heart must be like bended bow, His foot like arrow free, Mary. 560
A time will come with feeling fraught, For if I fall in battle fought, Thy hapless lover's dying thought Shall be a thought on thee, Mary.
And if returned from conquered foes, 565 How blithely will the evening close, How sweet the linnet sing repose, To my young bride and me, Mary!
XXIV
Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 570 Rus.h.i.+ng, in conflagration strong, Thy deep ravines and dells along, Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, And reddening the dark lakes below; Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, 575 As o'er thy heaths the voice of war.
The signal roused to martial coil, The sullen margin of Loch Voil, Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course; 580 Thence southward turned its rapid road Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, Till rose in arms each man might claim A portion in Clan-Alpine's name, From the gray sire, whose trembling hand 585 Could hardly buckle on his brand, To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow Were yet scarce terror to the crow.
Each valley, each sequestered glen, Mustered its little horde of men, 590 That met as torrents from the height In Highland dales their streams unite, Still gathering, as they pour along, A voice more loud, a tide more strong, Till at the rendezvous they stood 595 By hundreds prompt for blows and blood, Each trained to arms since life began, Owning no tie but to his clan, No oath, but by his chieftain's hand, No law, but Roderick Dhu's command. 600
XXV
That summer morn had Roderick Dhu Surveyed the skirts of Benvenue, And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath, To view the frontiers of Menteith.
All backward came with news of truce; 605 Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce; In Rednoch courts no hors.e.m.e.n wait, No banner waved on Cardross gate, On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, Nor scared the herons from Loch Con; 610 All seemed at peace. Now wot ye why The Chieftain, with such anxious eye, Ere to the muster he repair, This western frontier scanned with care?
In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, 615 A fair, though cruel, pledge was left; For Douglas, to his promise true, That morning from the isle withdrew, And in a deep sequestered dell Had sought a low and lonely cell. 620 By many a bard, in Celtic tongue, Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung; A softer name the Saxons gave, And called the grot the Goblin-cave.
XXVI
It was a wild and strange retreat, 625 As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet.
The dell, upon the mountain's crest, Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast; Its trench had stayed full many a rock, Hurled by primeval earthquake shock 630 From Benvenue's gray summit wild, And here, in random ruin piled, They frowned inc.u.mbent o'er the spot, And formed the rugged silvan grot.
The oak and birch, with mingled shade, 635 At noontide there a twilight made, Unless when short and sudden shone Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, With such a glimpse as prophet's eye Gains on thy depth, Futurity. 640 No murmur waked the solemn still, Save tinkling of a fountain rill; But when the wind chafed with the lake, A sullen sound would upward break, With das.h.i.+ng hollow voice, that spoke 645 The incessant war of wave and rock.
Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway, Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray.
From such a den the wolf had sprung, In such the wild-cat leaves her young; 650 Yet Douglas and his daughter fair Sought for a s.p.a.ce their safety there.
Gray Superst.i.tion's whisper dread Debarred the spot to vulgar tread; For there, she said, did fays resort, 655 And satyrs hold their silvan court, By moonlight tread their mystic maze, And blast the rash beholder's gaze.
XXVII
Now eve, with western shadows long, Floated on Katrine bright and strong, 660 When Roderick, with a chosen few, Repa.s.sed the heights of Benvenue.
Above the Goblin-cave they go, Through the wild pa.s.s of Beal-nam-bo: The prompt retainers speed before, 665 To launch the shallop from the sh.o.r.e, For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way To view the pa.s.ses of Achray, And place his clansmen in array.
Yet lags the chief in musing mind, 670 Unwonted sight, his men behind.
A single page, to bear his sword, Alone attended on his lord; The rest their way through thickets break, And soon await him by the lake. 675 It was a fair and gallant sight, To view them from the neighboring height, By the low-leveled sunbeam's light!
For strength and stature, from the clan Each warrior was a chosen man, 680 As even afar might well be seen, By their proud step and martial mien.
Their feathers dance, their tartans float, Their targets gleam, as by the boat A wild and warlike group they stand, 685 That well became such mountain-strand.
XXVIII
Their Chief, with step reluctant, still Was lingering on the craggy hill, Hard by where turned apart the road To Douglas's obscure abode. 690 It was but with that dawning morn, That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn To drown his love in war's wild roar, Nor think of Ellen Douglas more; But he who stems a stream with sand, 695 And fetters flame with flaxen band, Has yet a harder task to prove-- By firm resolve to conquer love!
Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, Still hovering near his treasure lost; 700 For though his haughty heart deny A parting meeting to his eye, Still fondly strains his anxious ear, The accents of her voice to hear, And inly did he curse the breeze 705 That waked to sound the rustling trees.
But hark! what mingles in the strain?
It is the harp of Allan-bane, That wakes its measures slow and high, Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 710 What melting voice attends the strings?