The Lady of the Lake [27]
That he will guide the stranger sure!-- What prompted thee, unhappy man? The meanest serf in Roderick's clan Had not been bribed, by love or fear, Unknown to him to guide thee here.'
XVII.
'Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, Since it is worthy care from thee; et life I hold but idle breath When love or honor's weighed with death. Then let me profit by my chance, And speak my purpose bold at once. I come to bear thee from a wild Where ne'er before such blossom smiled, By this soft hand to lead thee far From frantic scenes of feud and war. Near Bochastle my horses wait; They bear us soon to Stirling gate. I'll place thee in a lovely bower, I'll guard thee like a tender flower--' 'O hush, Sir Knight! 't were female art, To say I do not read thy heart; Too much, before, my selfish ear Was idly soothed my praise to hear. That fatal bait hath lured thee back, In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track; And how, O how, can I atone The wreck my vanity brought on!-- One way remains--I'll tell him all-- Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall! Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, Buy shine own pardon with thy shame! But first--my father is a man Outlawed and exiled, under ban; The price of blood is on his head, With me 't were infamy to wed. Still wouldst thou speak?--then hear the truth! Fitz- James, there is a noble youth-- If yet he is!--exposed for me And mine to dread extremity-- Thou hast the secret of my bears; Forgive, be generous, and depart!'
XVIII.
Fitz-James knew every wily train A lady's fickle heart to gain, But here he knew and felt them vain. There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, To give her steadfast speech the lie; In maiden confidence she stood, Though mantled in her cheek the blood And told her love with such a sigh Of deep and hopeless agony, As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye, But not with hope fled sympathy. He proffered to attend her side, As brother would a sister guide. 'O little know'st thou Roderick's heart! Safer for both we go apart. O haste thee, and from Allan learn If thou mayst trust yon wily kern.' With hand upon his forehead laid, The conflict of his mind to shade, A parting step or two he made; Then, as some thought had crossed his brain He paused, and turned. and came again.
XIX.
'Hear, lady, yet a parting word!-- It chanced in fight that my poor sword Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. This ring the grateful Monarch gave, And bade, when I had boon to crave, To bring it back, and boldly claim The recompense that I would name. Ellen, I am no courtly lord, But one who lives by lance and sword, Whose castle is his helm and shield, His lordship the embattled field. What from a prince can I demand, Who neither reck of state nor land? Ellen, thy hand--the ring is shine; Each guard and usher knows the sign. Seek thou the King without delay; This signet shall secure thy way: And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, As ransom of his pledge to me.' He placed the golden circlet on, Paused--kissed her hand--and then was gone. The aged Minstrel stood aghast, So hastily Fitz-James shot past. He joined his guide, and wending down The ridges of the mountain brown, Across the stream they took their way That joins Loch Katrine to Achray.
XX
All in the Trosachs' glen was still, Noontide was sleeping on the hill: Sudden his guide whooped loud and high-- 'Murdoch! was that a signal cry? '-- He stammered forth, 'I shout to scare Yon raven from his dainty fare.' He looked--he knew the raven's prey, His own brave steed: 'Ah! gallant gray! For thee--for me, perchance--'t were well We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell.-- Murdoch, move first---but silently; Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!' Jealous and sullen on they fared, Each silent, each upon his guard.
XXI.
Now wound the path its dizzy ledge Around a precipice's edge, When lo! a wasted female form, Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, In tattered weeds and wild array, Stood on a cliff beside the way, And glancing round her restless eye, Upon
XVII.
'Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, Since it is worthy care from thee; et life I hold but idle breath When love or honor's weighed with death. Then let me profit by my chance, And speak my purpose bold at once. I come to bear thee from a wild Where ne'er before such blossom smiled, By this soft hand to lead thee far From frantic scenes of feud and war. Near Bochastle my horses wait; They bear us soon to Stirling gate. I'll place thee in a lovely bower, I'll guard thee like a tender flower--' 'O hush, Sir Knight! 't were female art, To say I do not read thy heart; Too much, before, my selfish ear Was idly soothed my praise to hear. That fatal bait hath lured thee back, In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track; And how, O how, can I atone The wreck my vanity brought on!-- One way remains--I'll tell him all-- Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall! Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, Buy shine own pardon with thy shame! But first--my father is a man Outlawed and exiled, under ban; The price of blood is on his head, With me 't were infamy to wed. Still wouldst thou speak?--then hear the truth! Fitz- James, there is a noble youth-- If yet he is!--exposed for me And mine to dread extremity-- Thou hast the secret of my bears; Forgive, be generous, and depart!'
XVIII.
Fitz-James knew every wily train A lady's fickle heart to gain, But here he knew and felt them vain. There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, To give her steadfast speech the lie; In maiden confidence she stood, Though mantled in her cheek the blood And told her love with such a sigh Of deep and hopeless agony, As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye, But not with hope fled sympathy. He proffered to attend her side, As brother would a sister guide. 'O little know'st thou Roderick's heart! Safer for both we go apart. O haste thee, and from Allan learn If thou mayst trust yon wily kern.' With hand upon his forehead laid, The conflict of his mind to shade, A parting step or two he made; Then, as some thought had crossed his brain He paused, and turned. and came again.
XIX.
'Hear, lady, yet a parting word!-- It chanced in fight that my poor sword Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. This ring the grateful Monarch gave, And bade, when I had boon to crave, To bring it back, and boldly claim The recompense that I would name. Ellen, I am no courtly lord, But one who lives by lance and sword, Whose castle is his helm and shield, His lordship the embattled field. What from a prince can I demand, Who neither reck of state nor land? Ellen, thy hand--the ring is shine; Each guard and usher knows the sign. Seek thou the King without delay; This signet shall secure thy way: And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, As ransom of his pledge to me.' He placed the golden circlet on, Paused--kissed her hand--and then was gone. The aged Minstrel stood aghast, So hastily Fitz-James shot past. He joined his guide, and wending down The ridges of the mountain brown, Across the stream they took their way That joins Loch Katrine to Achray.
XX
All in the Trosachs' glen was still, Noontide was sleeping on the hill: Sudden his guide whooped loud and high-- 'Murdoch! was that a signal cry? '-- He stammered forth, 'I shout to scare Yon raven from his dainty fare.' He looked--he knew the raven's prey, His own brave steed: 'Ah! gallant gray! For thee--for me, perchance--'t were well We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell.-- Murdoch, move first---but silently; Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!' Jealous and sullen on they fared, Each silent, each upon his guard.
XXI.
Now wound the path its dizzy ledge Around a precipice's edge, When lo! a wasted female form, Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, In tattered weeds and wild array, Stood on a cliff beside the way, And glancing round her restless eye, Upon