Part 16 (1/2)

The Saxon paused: ”I ne'er delayed, When foeman bade me draw my blade; 320 Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death; Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, And my deep debt for life preserved, A better meed have well deserved.

Can naught but blood our feud atone? 325 Are there no means?” ”No, Stranger, none!

And hear--to fire thy flagging zeal-- The Saxon cause rests on thy steel; For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred Between the living and the dead; 330 'Who spills the foremost foeman's life, His party conquers in the strife.'”

”Then, by my word,” the Saxon said, ”The riddle is already read.

Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff-- 335 There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.

Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy, Then yield to Fate, and not to me.

To James, at Stirling, let us go, When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 340 Or if the King shall not agree To grant thee grace and favor free, I plight mine honor, oath, and word, That, to thy native strengths restored, With each advantage shalt thou stand, 345 That aids thee now to guard thy land.”

XIV

Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye-- ”Soars thy presumption, then, so high, Because a wretched kern ye slew, Homage to name to Roderick Dhu? 350 He yields not, he, to man nor Fate!

Thou add'st but fuel to my hate; My clansman's blood demands revenge.

Not yet prepared?--By heaven, I change My thought, and hold thy valor light 355 As that of some vain carpet knight, Who ill deserved my courteous care, And whose best boast is but to wear A braid of his fair lady's hair.”

”I thank thee, Roderick, for the word! 360 It nerves my heart, it steels my sword; For I have sworn this braid to stain In the best blood that warms thy vein.

Now, truce, farewell! and ruth, begone!-- Yet think not that by thee alone, 365 Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown; Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, Start at my whistle clansmen stern, Of this small horn one feeble blast Would fearful odds against thee cast. 370 But fear not--doubt not--which thou wilt-- We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.”

Then each at once his falchion drew, Each on the ground his scabbard threw, Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain, 375 As what they ne'er might see again; Then foot, and point, and eye opposed, In dubious strife they darkly closed.

XV

Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, That on the field his targe he threw, 380 Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide Had death so often dashed aside; For, trained abroad his arms to wield, Fitz-James's blade was sword and s.h.i.+eld.

He practiced every pa.s.s and ward, 385 To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard; While less expert, though stronger far, The Gael maintained unequal war.

Three times in closing strife they stood, And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood; 390 No stinted draft, no scanty tide, The gus.h.i.+ng flood the tartans dyed.

Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain, And showered his blows like wintry rain; And, as firm rock, or castle-roof, 395 Against the winter shower is proof, The foe, invulnerable still, Foiled his wild rage by steady skill; Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 400 And backward borne upon the lea, Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee.

XVI

”Now, yield thee, or by Him who made The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!”-- ”Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! 405 Let recreant yield, who fears to die.”

--Like adder darting from his coil, Like wolf that dashes through the toil, Like mountain-cat who guards her young, Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung; 410 Received, but recked not of a wound, And locked his arms his foeman round.

Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own!

No maiden's hand is round thee thrown!

That desperate grasp thy frame might feel, 415 Through bars of bra.s.s and triple steel!-- They tug, they strain! down, down they go, The Gael above, Fitz-James below.

The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed His knee was planted in his breast; 420 His clotted locks he backward threw, Across his brow his hand he drew, From blood and mist to clear his sight, Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright!

But hate and fury ill supplied 425 The stream of life's exhausted tide, And all too late the advantage came, To turn the odds of deadly game; For, while the dagger gleamed on high, Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. 430 Down came the blow! but in the heath The erring blade found bloodless sheath.

The struggling foe may now unclasp The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp; Unwounded from the dreadful close, 435 But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.

XVII

He faltered thanks to Heaven for life, Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife; Next on his foe his look he cast, Whose every gasp appeared his last; 440 In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid-- ”Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid; Yet with thy foe must die, or live, The praise that faith and valor give.”

With that he blew a bugle-note, 445 Undid the collar from his throat, Unbonneted, and by the wave Sat down his brow and hands to lave.

Then faint afar are heard the feet Of rus.h.i.+ng steeds in gallop fleet; 450 The sounds increase, and now are seen Four mounted squires in Lincoln green; Two who bear lance, and two who lead, By loosened rein, a saddled steed; Each onward held his headlong course, 455 And by Fitz-James reined up his horse-- With wonder viewed the b.l.o.o.d.y spot-- ”Exclaim not, gallants! question not.

You, Herbert and Luffness, alight, And bind the wounds of yonder knight; 460 Let the gray palfrey bear his weight, We destined for a fairer freight, And bring him on to Stirling straight; I will before at better speed, To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 465 The sun rides high--I must be boune, To see the archer-game at noon; But lightly Bayard clears the lea-- De Vaux and Herries, follow me.

XVIII

”Stand, Bayard, stand!” The steed obeyed, 470 With arching neck and bended head, And glancing eye and quivering ear As if he loved his lord to hear.

No foot Fitz-James in stirrup stayed, No grasp upon the saddle laid, 475 But wreathed his left hand in the mane, And lightly bounded from the plain, Turned on the horse his armed heel, And stirred his courage with the steel.