Chapter 11

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."

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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 shield. He practiced every pass 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 gushing 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 brass 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 rushing 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 bloody 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.

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"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. Bounded the fiery steed in air; 480 The rider sat erect and fair; Then like a bolt from steel crossbow Forth launched, along the plain they go. They dashed that rapid torrent through, And up Carhonie's hill they flew; 485 Still at the gallop pricked the Knight, His merrymen followed as they might. Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride, And in the race they mock thy tide; Torry and Lendrick now are past, 490 And Deanstown lies behind them cast; They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, They sink in distant woodland soon; Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre; 495 They mark just glance and disappear The lofty brow of ancient Kier; They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, Dark Forth! amid thy sluggish tides, And on the opposing shore take ground, 500 With plash, with scramble, and with bound. Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth! And soon the bulwark of the North, Gray Stirling, with her towers and town, Upon their fleet career looked down. 505

XIX

As up the flinty path they strained Sudden his steed the leader reined; A signal to his squire he flung, Who instant to his stirrup sprung: "Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray, 510 Who townward holds the rocky way, Of stature tall and poor array? Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride, With which he scales the mountain-side? Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom?" 515 "No, by my word--a burly groom He seems, who in the field or chase A baron's train would nobly grace." "Out, out, De Vaux! can fear supply, And jealousy, no sharper eye? 520 Afar, ere to the hill he drew, That stately form and step I knew; Like form in Scotland is not seen, Treads not such step on Scottish green. 'Tis James of Douglas, by Saint Serle! 525 The uncle of the banished Earl. Away, away, to court, to show The near approach of dreaded foe; The King must stand upon his guard; Douglas and he must meet prepared." 530 Then righthand wheeled their steeds, and straight They won the castle's postern gate.

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The Douglas, who had bent his way From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey gray, Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf, 535 Held sad communion with himself: "Yes! all is true my fears could frame; A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, And fiery Roderick soon will feel The vengeance of the royal steel. 540 I, only I, can ward their fate-- God grant the ransom come not late! The Abbess hath her promise given, My child shall be the bride of heaven. Be pardoned one repining tear! 545 For He, who gave her, knows how dear, How excellent!--but that is by, And now my business is--to die. --Ye towers! within whose circuit dread A Douglas by his sovereign bled; 550 And thou, O sad and fatal mound! That oft hast heard the death-ax sound, As on the noblest of the land Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand-- The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 555 Prepare--for Douglas seeks his doom! --But hark! what blithe and jolly peal Makes the Franciscan steeple reel? And see! upon the crowded street, In motley groups what maskers meet! 560 Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, And merry morris dancers come. I guess, by all this quaint array, The burghers hold their sports today. James will be there; he loves such show, 565 Where the good yeoman bends his bow, And the tough wrestler foils his foe, As well as where, in proud career, The high-born tilter shivers spear. I'll follow to the Castle-park, 570 And play my prize--King James shall mark If age has tamed these sinews stark, Whose force so oft, in happier days, His boyish wonder loved to praise."

XXI

The Castle gates were open flung, 575 The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung, And echoed loud the flinty street Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, As slowly down the steep descent Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, 580 While all along the crowded way Was jubilee and loud huzza. And ever James was bending low, To his white jennet's saddle-bow, Doffing his cap to city dame, 585 Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame. And well the simperer might be vain-- He chose the fairest of the train. Gravely he greets each city sire, Commends each pageant's quaint attire. 590 Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, And smiles and nods upon the crowd, Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, "Long live the Commons' King, King James!" Behind the King thronged peer and knight, 595 And noble dame and damsel bright, Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay Of the steep street and crowded way. But in the train you might discern Dark lowering brow and visage stern; 600 There nobles mourned their pride restrained, And the mean burgher's joys disdained; And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, Were each from home a banished man, There thought upon their own gray tower, 605 Their waving woods, their feudal power, And deemed themselves a shameful part Of pageant which they cursed in heart.

XXII

Now, in the Castle-park, drew out Their checkered bands the joyous rout. 610 Their morricers, with bell at heel, And blade in hand, their mazes wheel; And chief, beside the butts, there stand Bold Robin Hood and all his band-- Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl, 615 Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, Maid Marion, fair as ivory bone, Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John; Their bugles challenge all that will, In archery to prove their skill. 620 The Douglas bent a bow of might-- His first shaft centered in the white, And when in turn he shot again, His second split the first in twain. From the King's hand must Douglas take 625 A silver dart, the archer's stake; Fondly he watched, with watery eye, Some answering glance of sympathy-- No kind emotion made reply! Indifferent as to archer wight, 630 The monarch gave the arrow bright.

XXIII

Now, clear the ring! for, hand to hand, The manly wrestlers take their stand. Two o'er the rest superior rose, And proud demanded mightier foes, 635 Nor called in vain; for Douglas came. --For life is Hugh of Larbert lame; Scarce better John of Alloa's fare, Whom senseless home his comrades bear. Prize of the wrestling match, the King 640 To Douglas gave a golden ring, While coldly glanced his eye of blue, As frozen drop of wintry dew. Douglas would speak, but in his breast His struggling soul his words suppressed; 645 Indignant then he turned him where Their arms the brawny yeomen bare. To hurl the massive bar in air. When each his utmost strength had shown, The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 650 From its deep bed, then heaved it high, And sent the fragment through the sky, A rood beyond the farthest mark; And still in Stirling's royal park, The gray-haired sires, who know the past, 655 To strangers point the Douglas-cast, And moralize on the decay Of Scottish strength in modern day.

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The vale with loud applauses rang, The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang. 660 The King, with look unmoved, bestowed A purse well-filled with pieces broad. Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, And threw the gold among the crowd, Who now, with anxious wonder, scan, 665 And sharper glance, the dark gray man; Till whispers rose among the throng, That heart so free, and hand so strong, Must to the Douglas blood belong. The old men marked and shook the head, 670 To see his hair with silver spread, And winked aside, and told each son, Of feats upon the English done, Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand Was exiled from his native land. 675 The women praised his stately form, Though wrecked by many a winter's storm; The youth with awe and wonder saw His strength surpassing Nature's law. Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, 680 Till murmur rose to clamors loud. But not a glance from that proud ring Of peers who circled round the King, With Douglas held communion kind, Or called the banished man to mind; 685 No, not from those who, at the chase, Once held his side the honored place, Begirt his board, and, in the field, Found safety underneath his shield; For he, whom royal eyes disown, 690 When was his form to courtiers known!

XXV

The Monarch saw the gambols flag, And bade let loose a gallant stag, Whose pride, the holiday to crown, Two favorite greyhounds should pull down, 695 That venison free, and Bordeaux wine, Might serve the archery to dine. But Lufra--whom from Douglas' side Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide, The fleetest hound in all the North-- 700 Brave Lufra saw and darted forth. She left the royal hounds mid-way, And dashing on the antlered prey, Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank, And deep the flowing life-blood drank. 705 The King's stout huntsman saw the sport By strange intruder broken short, Came up, and with his leash unbound, In anger struck the noble hound. The Douglas had endured, that morn, 710 The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, And last, and worst to spirit proud, Had borne the pity of the crowd; But Lufra had been fondly bred, To share his board, to watch his bed, 715 And oft would Ellen, Lufra's neck In maiden glee with garlands deck; They were such playmates, that with name Of Lufra, Ellen's image came. His stifled wrath is brimming high, 720 In darkened brow and flashing eye; As waves before the bark divide, The crowd gave way before his stride; Needs but a buffet and no more, The groom lies senseless in his gore. 725 Such blow no other hand could deal, Though gauntleted in glove of steel.

XXVI

Then clamored loud the royal train, And brandished swords and staves amain, But stern the Baron's warning--"Back! 730 Back, on your lives, ye menial pack! Beware the Douglas.--Yes! behold, King James! the Douglas, doomed of old, And vainly sought for near and far, A victim to atone the war, 735 A willing victim, now attends, Nor craves thy grace but for his friends." "Thus is my clemency repaid? Presumptuous Lord!" the monarch said; "Of thy misproud ambitious clan, 740 Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, The only man, in whom a foe My woman-mercy would not know: But shall a Monarch's presence brook Injurious blow, and haughty look? 745 What ho! the Captain of our Guard! Give the offender fitting ward. Break off the sports!"--for tumult rose, And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows-- "Break off the sports!" he said, and frowned, 750 "And bid our horsemen clear the ground."

XXVII

Then uproar wild and misarray Marred the fair form of festal day. The horsemen pricked among the crowd, Repelled by threats and insult loud; 755 To earth are borne the old and weak, The timorous fly, the women shriek; With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, The hardier urge tumultuous war. At once round Douglas darkly sweep 760 The royal spears in circle deep, And slowly scale the pathway steep; While on the rear in thunder pour The rabble with disordered roar. With grief the noble Douglas saw 765 The Commons rise against the law, And to the leading soldier said-- "Sir John of Hyndford! 'twas my blade, That knighthood on thy shoulder laid; For that good deed, permit me then 770 A word with these misguided men.

XXVIII

"Hear, gentle friends! ere yet for me, Ye break the bands of fealty. My life, my honor, and my cause, I tender free to Scotland's laws. 775 Are these so weak as must require The aid of your misguided ire? Or, if I suffer causeless wrong, Is then my selfish rage so strong, My sense of public weal so low, 780 That, for mean vengeance on a foe, Those cords of love I should unbind, Which knit my country and my kind? O no! Believe, in yonder tower It will not soothe my captive hour, 785 To know those spears our foes should dread, For me in kindred gore are red; To know, in fruitless brawl begun, For me, that mother wails her son; For me, that widow's mate expires; 790 For me, that orphans weep their sires; That patriots mourn insulted laws, And curse the Douglas for the cause. O let your patience ward such ill, And keep your right to love me still!" 795

XXIX

The crowd's wild fury sunk again In tears, as tempests melt in rain. With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed For blessings on his generous head, Who for his country felt alone, 800 And prized her blood beyond his own. Old men, upon the verge of life, Blessed him who stayed the civil strife; And mothers held their babes on high, The self-devoted Chief to spy, 805 Triumphant over wrongs and ire, To whom the prattlers owed a sire. Even the rough soldier's heart was moved; As if behind some bier beloved, With trailing arms and drooping head, 810 The Douglas up the hill he led, And at the Castle's battled verge, With sighs resigned his honored charge.

XXX

The offended Monarch rode apart, With bitter thought and swelling heart, 815 And would not now vouchsafe again Through Stirling streets to lead his train. "O Lennox, who would wish to rule This changeling crowd, this common fool? Hear'st thou," he said, "the loud acclaim, 820 With which they shout the Douglas name? With like acclaim, the vulgar throat Strained for King James their morning note; With like acclaim they hailed the day When first I broke the Douglas' sway; 825 And like acclaim would Douglas greet, If he could hurl me from my seat. Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain! Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 830 And fickle as a changeful dream; Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood. Thou many-headed monster-thing, O who could wish to be thy king! 835

XXXI

"But soft! what messenger of speed Spurs hitherward his panting steed? I guess his cognizance afar-- What from our cousin, John of Mar?"-- "He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound 840 Within the safe and guarded ground; For some foul purpose yet unknown-- Most sure for evil to the throne-- The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, Has summoned his rebellious crew; 845 'Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid These loose banditti stand arrayed. The Earl of Mar, this morn, from Doune, To break their muster marched, and soon Your Grace will hear of battle fought; 850 But earnestly the Earl besought, Till for such danger he provide, With scanty train you will not ride."

XXXII