The Lady of the Lake [15]
O. seek the grace you well may find, Without a cause to mine combined!'
XXXIII.
Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode; The waving of his tartars broad, And darkened brow, where wounded pride With ire and disappointment vied Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light, Like the ill Demon of the night, Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway Upon the righted pilgrim's way: But, unrequited Love! thy dart Plunged deepest its envenomed smart, And Roderick, with shine anguish stung, At length the hand of Douglas wrung, While eyes that mocked at tears before With bitter drops were running o'er. The death-pangs of long-cherished hope Scarce in that ample breast had scope But, struggling with his spirit proud, Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud, While every sob--so mute were all Was heard distinctly through the ball. The son's despair, the mother's look, III might the gentle Ellen brook; She rose, and to her side there came, To aid her parting steps, the Graeme.
XXXIV.
Then Roderick from the Douglas broke-- As flashes flame through sable smoke, Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, So the deep anguish of despair Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. With stalwart grasp his hand he laid On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid: 'Back, beardless boy! ' he sternly said, 'Back, minion! holdst thou thus at naught The lesson I so lately taught? This roof, the Douglas. and that maid, Thank thou for punishment delayed.' Eager as greyhound on his game, Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. 'Perish my name, if aught afford Its Chieftain safety save his sword!' Thus as they strove their desperate hand Griped to the dagger or the brand, And death had been--but Douglas rose, And thrust between the struggling foes His giant strength:--' Chieftains, forego! I hold the first who strikes my foe.-- Madmen, forbear your frantic jar! What! is the Douglas fallen so far, His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil Of such dishonorable broil?' Sullen and slowly they unclasp, As struck with shame, their desperate grasp, And each upon his rival glared, With foot advanced and blade half bared.
XXXV.
Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung, And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, As faltered through terrific dream. Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, And veiled his wrath in scornful word:' Rest safe till morning ; pity 't were Such cheek should feel the midnight air! Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell, Roderick will keep the lake and fell, Nor lackey with his freeborn clan The pageant pomp of earthly man. More would he of Clan-Alpine know, Thou canst our strength and passes show.-- Malise, what ho! '--his henchman came: 'Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme.' Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold:' Fear nothing for thy favorite hold; The spot an angel deigned to grace Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place. Thy churlish courtesy for those Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. As safe to me the mountain way At midnight as in blaze of day, Though with his boldest at his back Even Roderick Dhu beset the track.-- Brave Douglas,--lovely Ellen,--nay, Naught here of parting will I say. Earth does not hold a lonesome glen So secret but we meet again.-- Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,'-- He said, and left the sylvan bower.
XXXVI.
Old Allan followed to the strand -- Such was the Douglas's command-- And anxious told, how, on the morn, The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, The Fiery Cross should circle o'er Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor Much were the peril to the Graeme From those who to the signal came; Far up the lake 't were safest land, Himself would row him to the strand. He gave his counsel to the wind, While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind, Round dirk and pouch and broadsword rolled, His ample plaid in tightened fold, And stripped his limbs to such array As best might suit the watery way,--
XXXVII.
Then spoke abrupt: ' Farewell to thee, Pattern of old fidelity!'
XXXIII.
Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode; The waving of his tartars broad, And darkened brow, where wounded pride With ire and disappointment vied Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light, Like the ill Demon of the night, Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway Upon the righted pilgrim's way: But, unrequited Love! thy dart Plunged deepest its envenomed smart, And Roderick, with shine anguish stung, At length the hand of Douglas wrung, While eyes that mocked at tears before With bitter drops were running o'er. The death-pangs of long-cherished hope Scarce in that ample breast had scope But, struggling with his spirit proud, Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud, While every sob--so mute were all Was heard distinctly through the ball. The son's despair, the mother's look, III might the gentle Ellen brook; She rose, and to her side there came, To aid her parting steps, the Graeme.
XXXIV.
Then Roderick from the Douglas broke-- As flashes flame through sable smoke, Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, So the deep anguish of despair Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. With stalwart grasp his hand he laid On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid: 'Back, beardless boy! ' he sternly said, 'Back, minion! holdst thou thus at naught The lesson I so lately taught? This roof, the Douglas. and that maid, Thank thou for punishment delayed.' Eager as greyhound on his game, Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. 'Perish my name, if aught afford Its Chieftain safety save his sword!' Thus as they strove their desperate hand Griped to the dagger or the brand, And death had been--but Douglas rose, And thrust between the struggling foes His giant strength:--' Chieftains, forego! I hold the first who strikes my foe.-- Madmen, forbear your frantic jar! What! is the Douglas fallen so far, His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil Of such dishonorable broil?' Sullen and slowly they unclasp, As struck with shame, their desperate grasp, And each upon his rival glared, With foot advanced and blade half bared.
XXXV.
Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung, And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, As faltered through terrific dream. Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, And veiled his wrath in scornful word:' Rest safe till morning ; pity 't were Such cheek should feel the midnight air! Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell, Roderick will keep the lake and fell, Nor lackey with his freeborn clan The pageant pomp of earthly man. More would he of Clan-Alpine know, Thou canst our strength and passes show.-- Malise, what ho! '--his henchman came: 'Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme.' Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold:' Fear nothing for thy favorite hold; The spot an angel deigned to grace Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place. Thy churlish courtesy for those Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. As safe to me the mountain way At midnight as in blaze of day, Though with his boldest at his back Even Roderick Dhu beset the track.-- Brave Douglas,--lovely Ellen,--nay, Naught here of parting will I say. Earth does not hold a lonesome glen So secret but we meet again.-- Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,'-- He said, and left the sylvan bower.
XXXVI.
Old Allan followed to the strand -- Such was the Douglas's command-- And anxious told, how, on the morn, The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, The Fiery Cross should circle o'er Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor Much were the peril to the Graeme From those who to the signal came; Far up the lake 't were safest land, Himself would row him to the strand. He gave his counsel to the wind, While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind, Round dirk and pouch and broadsword rolled, His ample plaid in tightened fold, And stripped his limbs to such array As best might suit the watery way,--
XXXVII.
Then spoke abrupt: ' Farewell to thee, Pattern of old fidelity!'