Chapter 10
Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed, When Ellen's hints and fears were lost; But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, And Blanche's song conviction brought. Not like a stag that spies the snare, 610 But lion of the hunt aware, He waved at once his blade on high, "Disclose thy treachery, or die!" Forth at full speed the Clansman flew, But in his race his bow he drew. 615 The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest, And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast. Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed, For ne'er had Alpine's son such need! With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 620 The fierce avenger is behind! Fate judges of the rapid strife-- The forfeit death--the prize is life! Thy kindred ambush lies before, Close couched upon the heathery moor; 625 Them couldst thou reach!--it may not be-- Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see, The fiery Saxon gains on thee! Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, As lightning strikes the pine to dust; 630 With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain, Ere he can win his blade again. Bent o'er the fallen, with falcon eye, He grimly smiled to see him die; Then slower wended back his way, 635 Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.
XXVII
She sat beneath a birchen-tree, Her elbow resting on her knee; She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, And gazed on it, and feebly laughed; 640 Her wreath of broom and feathers gray, Daggled with blood, beside her lay. The Knight to staunch the life-stream tried-- "Stranger, it is in vain!" she cried. "This hour of death has given me more 645 Of reason's power than years before; For, as these ebbing veins decay, My frenzied visions fade away. A helpless injured wretch I die, And something tells me in thine eye, 650 That thou wert mine avenger born. Seest thou this tress?--Oh! still I've worn This little tress of yellow hair, Through danger, frenzy, and despair! It once was bright and clear as thine, 655 But blood and tears have dimmed its shine. I will not tell thee when 'twas shred, Nor from what guiltless victim's head-- My brain would turn!--but it shall wave Like plumage on thy helmet brave, 660 Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, And thou wilt bring it me again. I waver still--O God! more bright Let reason beam her parting light!-- Oh! by thy knighthood's honored sign, 665 And for thy life preserved by mine, When thou shalt see a darksome man, Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan, With tartans broad and shadowy plume And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, 670 Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong!-- They watch for thee by pass and fell.... Avoid the path.... O God!... farewell."
XXVIII
A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James; 675 Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims, And now, with mingled grief and ire, He saw the murdered maid expire. "God, in my need, be my relief, As I wreak this on yonder Chief!" 680 A lock from Blanche's tresses fair He blended with her bridegroom's hair; The mingled braid in blood he dyed. And placed it on his bonnet-side: "By Him whose word is truth! I swear 685 No other favor will I wear, Till this sad token I imbrue In the best blood of Roderick Dhu! --But hark! what means yon faint halloo? The chase is up--but they shall know, 690 The stag at bay's a dangerous foe." Barred from the known but guarded way, Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray, And oft must change his desperate track, By stream and precipice turned back. 695 Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length, From lack of food and loss of strength, He couched him in a thicket hoar, And thought his toils and perils o'er: "Of all my rash adventures past, 700 This frantic feat must prove the last! Who e'er so mad but might have guessed, That all this Highland hornet's nest Would muster up in swarms so soon As e'er they heard of bands at Doune? 705 Like bloodhounds now they search me out-- Hark, to the whistle and the shout!-- If further through the wilds I go, I only fall upon the foe. I'll couch me here till evening gray, 710 Then darkling try my dangerous way."
XXIX
The shades of eve come slowly down, The woods are wrapped in deeper brown, The owl awakens from her dell, The fox is heard upon the fell; 715 Enough remains of glimmering light To guide the wanderer's steps aright, Yet not enough from far to show His figure to the watchful foe. With cautious step, and ear awake, 720 He climbs the crag and threads the brake; And not the summer solstice, there, Tempered the midnight mountain air, But every breeze, that swept the wold, Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. 725 In dread, in danger, and alone, Famished and chilled, through ways unknown, Tangled and steep, he journeyed on; Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, A watch-fire close before him burned. 730
XXX
Beside its embers red and clear, Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer; And up he sprung with sword in hand-- "Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!" "A stranger." "What dost thou require?" 735 "Rest and a guide, and food and fire. My life's beset, my path is lost, The gale has chilled my limbs with frost." "Art thou a friend to Roderick?" "No." "Thou darest not call thyself a foe?" 740 "I dare! to him and all the band He brings to aid his murderous hand." "Bold words!--but, though the beast of game The privilege of chase may claim, Though space and law the stag we lend, 745 Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, Who ever recked, where, how, or when, The prowling fox was trapped or slain? Thus treacherous scouts--yet sure they lie, Who say thou camest a secret spy!" 750 "They do, by heaven!--Come Roderick Dhu, And of his clan the boldest two, And let me but till morning rest, I write the falsehood on their crest." "If by the blaze I mark aright, 755 Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight." "Then by these tokens may'st thou know Each proud oppressor's mortal foe." "Enough, enough; sit down and share A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." 760
XXXI
He gave him of his Highland cheer, The hardened flesh of mountain deer; Dry fuel on the fire he laid, And bade the Saxon share his plaid. He tended him like welcome guest, 765 Then thus his further speech addressed: "Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu A clansman born, a kinsman true; Each word against his honor spoke, Demands of me avenging stroke; 770 Yet more--upon thy fate, 'tis said, A mighty augury is laid. It rests with me to wind my horn-- Thou art with numbers overborne; It rests with me, here, brand to brand, 775 Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand; But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause, Will I depart from honor's laws; To assail a wearied man were shame, And stranger is a holy name; 780 Guidance and rest, food and fire, In vain he never must require. Then rest thee here till dawn of day; Myself will guide thee on the way, O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward, 785 Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard, As far as Coilantogle's ford; From thence thy warrant is thy sword." "I take thy courtesy, by heaven, As freely as 'tis nobly given!" 790 "Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry Sings us the lake's wild lullaby." With that he shook the gathered heath, And spread his plaid upon the wreath; And the brave foemen, side by side, 795 Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, And slept until the dawning beam Purpled the mountain and the stream.
CANTO FIFTH
THE COMBAT
I
Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied, It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, And lights the fearful path on mountain side; 5 Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star, Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of War.
II
That early beam, so fair and sheen, 10 Was twinkling through the hazel screen, When rousing at its glimmer red, The warriors left their lowly bed, Looked out upon the dappled sky, Muttered their soldier matins by, 15 And then awaked their fire, to steal, As short and rude, their soldier meal. That o'er, the Gael around him threw His graceful plaid of varied hue, And, true to promise, led the way, 20 By thicket green and mountain gray. A wildering path--they winded now Along the precipice's brow, Commanding the rich scenes beneath, The windings of the Forth and Teith, 25 And all the vales between that lie, Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky; Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance Gained not the length of horseman's lance. 'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain 30 Assistance from the hand to gain; So tangled oft, that, bursting through, Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew-- That diamond dew, so pure and clear, It rivals all but Beauty's tear! 35
III
At length they came where, stern and steep, The hill sinks down upon the deep. Here Vennachar in silver flows, There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose; Ever the hollow path twined on, 40 Beneath steep bank and threatening stone; An hundred men might hold the post With hardihood against a host. The rugged mountain's scanty cloak Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, 45 With shingles bare, and cliffs between, And patches bright of bracken green, And heather black, that waved so high, It held the copse in rivalry. But where the lake slept deep and still, 50 Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill; And oft both path and hill were torn, Where wintry torrents down had borne, And heaped upon the cumbered land Its wreck of gravel, rocks and sand. 55 So toilsome was the road to trace, The guide, abating of his pace, Led slowly through the pass's jaws, And asked Fitz-James, by what strange cause He sought these wilds, traversed by few, 60 Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.
IV
"Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried, Hangs in my belt, and by my side; Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said, "I dreamt not now to claim its aid. 65 When here, but three days since, I came, Bewildered in pursuit of game, All seemed as peaceful and as still As the mist slumbering on yon hill; Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, 70 Nor soon expected back from war. Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide, Though deep perchance the villian lied." "Yet why a second venture try?" "A warrior thou, and ask me why! 75 Moves our free course by such fixed cause As gives the poor mechanic laws? Enough, I sought to drive away The lazy hours of peaceful day; Slight cause will then suffice to guide 80 A Knight's free footsteps far and wide-- A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed, The merry glance of mountain maid; Or, if a path be dangerous known, The danger's self is lure alone." 85
V
"Thy secret keep, I urge thee not;-- Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, Say, heard ye nought of Lowland war, Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar?" "No, by my word--of bands prepared 90 To guard King James's sports I heard; Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear This muster of the mountaineer, Their pennons will abroad be flung, Which else in Doune had peaceful hung." 95 "Free be they flung!--for we were loath Their silken folds should feast the moth. Free be they flung!--as free shall wave Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave. But, Stranger, peaceful since you came, 100 Bewildered in the mountain game, Whence the bold boast by which you show Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?" "Warrior, but yester-morn, I knew Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 105 Save as an outlawed desperate man, The chief of a rebellious clan, Who, in the Regent's court and sight, With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight; Yet this alone might from his part 110 Sever each true and loyal heart."
VI
Wrathful at such arraignment foul, Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl. A space he paused, then sternly said, "And heard'st thou why he drew his blade? 115 Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe? What recked the Chieftain if he stood On Highland heath, or Holy-Rood? He rights such wrong where it is given, 120 If it were in the court of heaven." "Still was it outrage--yet, 'tis true, Not then claimed sovereignty his due; While Albany, with feeble hand, Held borrowed truncheon of command, 125 The young King, mewed in Stirling tower, Was stranger to respect and power. But then, thy Chieftain's robber life! Winning mean prey by causeless strife, Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain 130 His herds and harvest reared in vain-- Methinks a soul, like thine, should scorn The spoils from such foul foray borne."
VII
The Gael beheld him grim the while, And answered with disdainful smile-- 135 "Saxon, from yonder mountain high, I marked thee send delighted eye Far to the south and east, where lay, Extended in succession gay, Deep waving fields and pastures green, 140 With gentle slopes and groves between; These fertile plains, that softened vale, Were once the birthright of the Gael; The stranger came with iron hand, And from our fathers reft the land. 145 Where dwell we now! See, rudely swell Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. Ask we this savage hill we tread For fattened steer or household bread; Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 150 And well the mountain might reply, 'To you, as to your sires of yore, Belong the target and claymore! I give you shelter in my breast, Your own good blades must win the rest.' 155 Pent in this fortress of the North, Think'st thou we will not sally forth, To spoil the spoiler as we may, And from the robber rend the prey? Aye, by my soul! While on yon plain 160 The Saxon rears one shock of grain; While, of ten thousand herds, there strays But one along yon river's maze, The Gael, of plain and river heir, Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. 165 Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold That plundering Lowland field and fold Is aught but retribution true? Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu."
VIII
Answered Fitz-James, "And if I sought, 170 Think'st thou no other could be brought? What deem ye of my path waylaid? My life given o'er to ambuscade?" "As of a meed to rashness due: Hadst thou sent warning fair and true-- 175 I seek my hound, or falcon strayed, I seek, good faith, a Highland maid-- Free hadst thou been to come and go; But secret path marks secret foe. Nor yet, for this, even as a spy, 180 Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die. Save to fulfill an augury." "Well, let it pass; nor will I now Fresh cause of enmity avow, To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. 185 Enough, I am by promise tied To match me with this man of pride: Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen In peace; but when I come again, I come with banner, brand, and bow, 190 As leader seeks his mortal foe. For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower, Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, As I, until before me stand This rebel Chieftain and his band!" 195
IX
"Have, then, thy wish!" He whistled shrill, And he was answered from the hill; Wild as the scream of the curlew, From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath, arose 200 Bonnets and spears and bended bows; On right, on left, above, below, Sprung up at once the lurking foe; From shingles gray their lances start, The bracken bush sends forth the dart, 205 The rushes and the willow-wand Are bristling into ax and brand, And every tuft of broom gives life To plaided warrior armed for strife. That whistle garrisoned the glen 210 At once with full five hundred men, As if the yawning hill to heaven A subterranean host had given. Watching their leader's beck and will, All silent there they stood, and still. 215 Like the loose crags whose threatening mass Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, As if an infant's touch could urge Their headlong passage down the verge, With step and weapon forward flung, 220 Upon the mountain-side they hung. The Mountaineer cast glance of pride Along Benledi's living side, Then fixed his eye and sable brow Full on Fitz-James--"How say'st thou now? 225 These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true; And, Saxon--I am Roderick Dhu!"
X
Fitz-James was brave. Though to his heart The life-blood thrilled with sudden start, He manned himself with dauntless air, 230 Returned the Chief his haughty stare, His back against a rock he bore, And firmly placed his foot before: "Come one, come all! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I." 235 Sir Roderick marked--and in his eyes Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel. Short space he stood--then waved his hand; 240 Down sunk the disappearing band; Each warrior vanished where he stood, In broom or bracken, heath or wood; Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, In osiers pale and copses low; 245 It seemed as if their mother Earth Had swallowed up her warlike birth. The wind's last breath had tossed in air, Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair; The next but swept a lone hill-side, 250 Where heath and fern were waving wide. The sun's last glance was glinted back, From spear and glaive, from targe and jack, The next, all unreflected, shone On bracken green, and cold gray stone. 255
XI
Fitz-James looked round--yet scarce believed The witness that his sight received; Such apparition well might seem Delusion of a dreadful dream. Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 260 And to his look the Chief replied, "Fear naught--nay, that I need not say-- But--doubt not aught from mine array. Thou art my guest--I pledged my word As far as Coilantogle ford; 265 Nor would I call a clansman's brand For aid against one valiant hand, Though on our strife lay every vale Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. So move we on--I only meant 270 To show the reed on which you leant, Deeming this path you might pursue Without a pass from Roderick Dhu." They moved--I said Fitz-James was brave, As ever knight that belted glaive; 275 Yet dare not say, that now his blood Kept on its wont and tempered flood, As, following Roderick's stride, he drew That seeming lonesome pathway through, Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife 280 With lances, that, to take his life, Waited but signal from a guide, So late dishonored and defied. Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round The vanished guardians of the ground, 285 And still, from copse and heather deep, Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, And in the plover's shrilly strain, The signal whistle heard again. Nor breathed he free till far behind 290 The pass was left; for then they wind Along a wide and level green, Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, Nor rush nor bush of broom was near, To hide a bonnet or a spear. 295
XII
The Chief in silence strode before, And reached that torrent's sounding shore, Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, From Vennachar in silver breaks, Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 300 On Bochastle the moldering lines, Where Rome, the Empress of the world, Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. And here his course the Chieftain stayed, Threw down his target and his plaid, 305 And to the Lowland warrior said-- "Bold Saxon! to his promise just, Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, This head of a rebellious clan, 310 Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. Now, man to man, and steel to steel. A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. See, here, all vantageless I stand, 315 Armed, like thyself, with single brand; For this is Coilantogle ford, And thou must keep thee with thy sword."
XIII