The Lady of the Lake [20]
Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood; 'The muster-place is Lanrick mead; Speed forth the signal! clansmen. speed!'
XVIII,
Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. In haste the stripling to his side His father's dirk and broadsword tied; But when he saw his mother's eye Watch him in speechless agony, Back to her opened arms he flew Pressed on her lips a fond adieu,-- 'Alas " she sobbed,--' and yet be gone, And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son!' One look he cast upon the bier, Dashed from his eye the gathering tear, Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast, And tossed aloft his bonnet crest, Then, like the high-bred colt when, freed, First he essays his fire and speed, He vanished, and o'er moor and moss Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. Suspended was the widow's tear While yet his footsteps she could hear; And when she marked the henchman's eye Wet with unwonted sympathy, 'Kinsman,' she said, 'his race is run That should have sped shine errand on . The oak teas fallen?--the sapling bough Is all Duncraggan's shelter now Yet trust I well, his duty done, The orphan's God will guard my son.-- And you, in many a danger true At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, To arms, and guard that orphan's head! Let babes and women wail the dead.' Then weapon- clang and martial call Resounded through the funeral hall, While from the walls the attendant band Snatched sword and targe with hurried hand; And short and flitting energy Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, As if the sounds to warrior dear Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. But faded soon that borrowed force; Grief claimed his right, and tears their course.
XIX.
Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, It glanced dike lightning up Strath-Ire. O'er dale and hill the summons flew, Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew; The tear that gathered in his eye He deft the mountain-breeze to dry; Until, where Teith's young waters roll Betwixt him and a wooded knoll That graced the sable strath with green, The chapel of Saint Bride was seen. Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge, But Angus paused not on the edge; Though the clerk waves danced dizzily, Though reeled his sympathetic eye, He dashed amid the torrent's roar: His right hand high the crosslet bore, His left the pole-axe grasped, to guide And stay his footing in the tide. He stumbled twice,--the foam splashed high, With hoarser swell the stream raced by; And had he fallen,--forever there, Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir! But still, as if in parting life, Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife, Until the opposing bank he gained, And up the chapel pathway strained. A blithesome rout that morning-tide Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. Her troth Tombea's Mary gave To Norman, heir of Armandave, And, issuing from the Gothic arch, The bridal now resumed their march. In rude but glad procession came Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame; And plaided youth, with jest and jeer Which snooded maiden would not hear: And children, that, unwitting why, Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry; And minstrels, that in measures vied Before the young and bonny bride, Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose The tear and blush of morning rose. With virgin step and bashful hand She held the kerchief's snowy band. The gallant bridegroom by her side Beheld his prize with victor's pride. And the glad mother in her ear Was closely whispering word of cheer.
XXI.
Who meets them at the churchyard gate? The messenger of fear and fate! Haste in his hurried accent lies, And grief is swimming in his eyes. All dripping from the recent flood, Panting and travel-soiled he stood, The fatal sign of fire and sword Held forth, and spoke the appointed word: 'The muster-place is Lanrick mead; Speed forth the signal! Norman, speed!' And must he change so soon the hand Just linked to his by holy band, For the fell Cross of blood and brand? And must the day so blithe that rose, And promised rapture in the close, Before its setting
XVIII,
Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. In haste the stripling to his side His father's dirk and broadsword tied; But when he saw his mother's eye Watch him in speechless agony, Back to her opened arms he flew Pressed on her lips a fond adieu,-- 'Alas " she sobbed,--' and yet be gone, And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son!' One look he cast upon the bier, Dashed from his eye the gathering tear, Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast, And tossed aloft his bonnet crest, Then, like the high-bred colt when, freed, First he essays his fire and speed, He vanished, and o'er moor and moss Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. Suspended was the widow's tear While yet his footsteps she could hear; And when she marked the henchman's eye Wet with unwonted sympathy, 'Kinsman,' she said, 'his race is run That should have sped shine errand on . The oak teas fallen?--the sapling bough Is all Duncraggan's shelter now Yet trust I well, his duty done, The orphan's God will guard my son.-- And you, in many a danger true At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, To arms, and guard that orphan's head! Let babes and women wail the dead.' Then weapon- clang and martial call Resounded through the funeral hall, While from the walls the attendant band Snatched sword and targe with hurried hand; And short and flitting energy Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, As if the sounds to warrior dear Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. But faded soon that borrowed force; Grief claimed his right, and tears their course.
XIX.
Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, It glanced dike lightning up Strath-Ire. O'er dale and hill the summons flew, Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew; The tear that gathered in his eye He deft the mountain-breeze to dry; Until, where Teith's young waters roll Betwixt him and a wooded knoll That graced the sable strath with green, The chapel of Saint Bride was seen. Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge, But Angus paused not on the edge; Though the clerk waves danced dizzily, Though reeled his sympathetic eye, He dashed amid the torrent's roar: His right hand high the crosslet bore, His left the pole-axe grasped, to guide And stay his footing in the tide. He stumbled twice,--the foam splashed high, With hoarser swell the stream raced by; And had he fallen,--forever there, Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir! But still, as if in parting life, Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife, Until the opposing bank he gained, And up the chapel pathway strained. A blithesome rout that morning-tide Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. Her troth Tombea's Mary gave To Norman, heir of Armandave, And, issuing from the Gothic arch, The bridal now resumed their march. In rude but glad procession came Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame; And plaided youth, with jest and jeer Which snooded maiden would not hear: And children, that, unwitting why, Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry; And minstrels, that in measures vied Before the young and bonny bride, Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose The tear and blush of morning rose. With virgin step and bashful hand She held the kerchief's snowy band. The gallant bridegroom by her side Beheld his prize with victor's pride. And the glad mother in her ear Was closely whispering word of cheer.
XXI.
Who meets them at the churchyard gate? The messenger of fear and fate! Haste in his hurried accent lies, And grief is swimming in his eyes. All dripping from the recent flood, Panting and travel-soiled he stood, The fatal sign of fire and sword Held forth, and spoke the appointed word: 'The muster-place is Lanrick mead; Speed forth the signal! Norman, speed!' And must he change so soon the hand Just linked to his by holy band, For the fell Cross of blood and brand? And must the day so blithe that rose, And promised rapture in the close, Before its setting