Chapter 13
"Bearing before them, in their course, 455 The relics of the archer force, Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. Above the tide, each broadsword bright Was brandishing like beam of light, 460 Each targe was dark below; And with the ocean's mighty swing, When heaving to the tempest's wing, They hurled them on the foe. I heard the lance's shivering crash, 465 As when the whirlwind rends the ash; I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, As if an hundred anvils rang! But Moray wheeled his rearward rank Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank, 470 'My banner-man advance! I see,' he cried, 'their column shake. Now, gallants! for your ladies' sake, Upon them with the lance!' The horsemen dashed among the rout, 475 As deer break through the broom; Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, They soon make lightsome room. Clan-Alpine's best are backward borne-- Where, where was Roderick then! 480 One blast upon his bugle-horn Were worth a thousand men. And refluent through the pass of fear The battle's tide was poured; Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, 485 Vanished the mountain-sword. As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep, Receives her roaring linn, As the dark caverns of the deep Suck the wild whirlpool in, 490 So did the deep and darksome pass Devour the battle's mingled mass; None linger now upon the plain, Save those who ne'er shall fight again.
XIX
"Now westward rolls the battle's din, 495 That deep and doubling pass within.-- Minstrel, away! the work of fate Is bearing on; its issue wait, Where the rude Trossachs' dread defile Opens on Katrine's lake and isle.-- 500 Gray Benvenue I soon repassed, Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. The sun is set, the clouds are met, The lowering scowl of heaven An inky hue of livid blue 505 To the deep lake has given; Strange gusts of wind from mountain-glen Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. I heeded not the eddying surge, Mine eye but saw the Trossachs' gorge, 510 Mine ear but heard the sullen sound, Which like an earthquake shook the ground, And spoke the stern and desperate strife That parts not but with parting life, Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 515 The dirge of many a passing soul. Nearer it comes--the dim-wood glen The martial flood disgorged again, But not in mingled tide; The plaided warriors of the North 520 High on the mountain thunder forth And overhang its side; While by the lake below appears The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears. At weary bay each shattered band, 525 Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand; Their banners stream like tattered sail, That flings its fragments to the gale, And broken arms and disarray Marked the fell havoc of the day. 530
XX
"Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, The Saxon stood in sullen trance, Till Moray pointed with his lance, And cried--'Behold yon isle! See! none are left to guard its strand, 535 But women weak, that wring the hand; 'Tis there of yore the robber band Their booty wont to pile. My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, 540 And loose a shallop from the shore. Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then, Lords of his mate, and brood, and den.' Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung, On earth his casque and corselet rung, 545 He plunged him in the wave; All saw the deed--the purpose knew, And to their clamors Benvenue A mingled echo gave; The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 550 The helpless females scream for fear, And yells for rage the mountaineer. 'Twas then, as by the outcry riven, Poured down at once the lowering heaven; A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast, 555 Her billows reared their snowy crest. Well for the swimmer swelled they high, To mar the Highland marksman's eye; For round him showered, 'mid rain and hail, The vengeful arrows of the Gael. 560 In vain--he nears the isle--and lo! His hand is on a shallop's bow. Just then a flash of lightning came, It tinged the waves and strand with flame; I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame, 565 Behind an oak I saw her stand, A naked dirk gleamed in her hand; It darkened--but, amid the moan Of waves, I heard a dying groan; Another flash!--the spearman floats 570 A weltering corse beside the boats, And the stern matron o'er him stood, Her hand and dagger streaming blood.
XXI
"'Revenge! revenge!' the Saxons cried; The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 575 Despite the elemental rage, Again they hurried to engage; But, ere they closed in desperate fight, Bloody with spurring came a knight, Sprung from his horse, and, from a crag, 580 Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. Clarion and trumpet by his side Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, While, in the Monarch's name, afar An herald's voice forbade the war, 585 For Bothwell's lord, and Roderick bold, Were both, he said, in captive hold." --But here the lay made sudden stand, The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand!-- Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 590 How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy: At first, the Chieftain, to the chime, With lifted hand, kept feeble time; That motion ceased--yet feeling strong Varied his look as changed the song; 595 At length, no more his deafened ear The minstrel melody can hear; His face grows sharp--his hands are clenched, As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched; Set are his teeth, his fading eye 600 Is sternly fixed on vacancy; Thus, motionless, and moanless, drew His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu! Old Allan-bane looked on aghast, While grim and still his spirit passed; 605 But when he saw that life was fled, He poured his wailing o'er the dead.
XXII
LAMENT
"And art thou cold and lowly laid, Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade! 610 For thee shall none a requiem say? --For thee--who loved the minstrel's lay, For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, The shelter of her exiled line, E'en in this prison-house of thine 615 I'll wail for Alpine's honored Pine!
"What groans shall yonder valleys fill! What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill! What tears of burning rage shall thrill, When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 620 Thy fall before the race was won, Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun! There breathes not clansman of thy line, But would have given his life for thine. O woe for Alpine's honored Pine! 625
"Sad was thy lot on mortal stage! The captive thrush may brook the cage, The prisoned eagle dies for rage. Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain! And, when its notes awake again, 630 Even she, so long beloved in vain, Shall with my harp her voice combine, And mix her woe and tears with mine, To wail Clan-Alpine's honored Pine."
XXIII
Ellen, the while, with bursting heart, 635 Remained in lordly bower apart, Where played, with many colored gleams, Through storied pane the rising beams. In vain on gilded roof they fall, And lightened up a tapestried wall, 640 And for her use a menial train A rich collation spread in vain. The banquet proud, the chamber gay, Scarce drew one curious glance astray; Or if she looked, 'twas but to say, 645 With better omen dawned the day In that lone isle where waved on high The dun-deer's hide for canopy; Where oft her noble father shared The simple meal her care prepared, 650 While Lufra, crouching by her side, Her station claimed with jealous pride, And Douglas, bent on woodland game, Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, Whose answer, oft at random made, 655 The wandering of his thoughts betrayed. Those who such simple joys have known, Are taught to prize them when they're gone. But sudden, see, she lifts her head! The window seeks with cautious tread. 660 What distant music has the power To win her in this woeful hour! Twas from a turret that o'erhung Her latticed bower, the strain was sung.
XXIV
LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN
"My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 665 My idle greyhound loathes his food, My horse is weary of his stall, And I am sick of captive thrall. I wish I were as I have been, Hunting the hart in forest green, 670 With bended bow and bloodhound free, For that's the life is meet for me.
"I hate to learn the ebb of time, From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 675 Inch after inch, along the wall. The lark was wont my matins ring, The sable rook my vespers sing; These towers, although a king's they be, Have not a hall of joy for me. 680
"No more at dawning morn I rise, And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, Drive the fleet deer the forest through, And homeward wend with evening dew; A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 685 And lay my trophies at her feet, While fled the eve on wing of glee-- That life is lost to love and me!"
XXV
The heartsick lay was hardly said, The list'ner had not turned her head, 690 It trickled still, the starting tear, When light a footstep struck her ear, And Snowdoun's graceful knight was near. She turned the hastier, lest again The prisoner should renew his strain. 695 "O welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said; "How may an almost orphan maid Pay the deep debt"--"O say not so! To me no gratitude you owe. Not mine, alas! the boon to give, 700 And bid thy noble father live; I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. No tyrant he, though ire and pride May lay his better mood aside. 705 Come, Ellen, come! 'tis more than time, He holds his court at morning prime." With beating heart, and bosom wrung, As to a brother's arm she clung. Gently he dried the falling tear, 710 And gently whispered hope and cheer; Her faltering steps, half led, half stayed, Through gallery fair, and high arcade, Till, at his touch, its wings of pride A portal arch unfolded wide. 715
XXVI
Within 'twas brilliant all and light, A thronging scene of figures bright; It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight, As when the setting sun has given Ten thousand hues to summer even, 720 And from their tissue, fancy frames Aerial knights and fairy dames. Still by Fitz-James her footing stayed; A few faint steps she forward made, Then slow her drooping head she raised, 725 And fearful round the presence gazed; For him she sought, who owned this state, The dreaded Prince whose will was fate!-- She gazed on many a princely port, Might well have ruled a royal court; 730 On many a splendid garb she gazed-- Then turned bewildered and amazed, For all stood bare; and, in the room, Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. To him each lady's look was lent; 735 On him each courtier's eye was bent; Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen, He stood, in simple Lincoln green, The center of the glittering ring-- And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King. 740
XXVII
As wreath of snow, on mountain breast, Slides from the rock that gave it rest, Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And at the Monarch's feet she lay; No word her choking voice commands-- 745 She showed the ring--she clasped her hands. Oh! not a moment could he brook, The generous Prince, that suppliant look! Gently he raised her--and, the while, Checked with a glance the circle's smile; 750 Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, And bade her terrors be dismissed: "Yes, Fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James The fealty of Scotland claims. To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring; 755 He will redeem his signet-ring. Ask naught for Douglas; yester even His prince and he have much forgiven. Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 760 We would not, to the vulgar crowd, Yield what they craved with clamor loud; Calmly we heard and judged his cause, Our council aided, and our laws. I stanched thy father's death-feud stern, 765 With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn; And Bothwell's lord henceforth we own The friend and bulwark of our throne. But, lovely infidel, how now? What clouds thy misbelieving brow? 770 Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid; Thou must confirm this doubting maid."
XXVIII
Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, And on his neck his daughter hung. The Monarch drank, that happy hour, 775 The sweetest, holiest draught of Power-- When it can say, with godlike voice, Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice! Yet would not James the general eye On Nature's raptures long should pry; 780 He stepped between--"Nay, Douglas, nay, Steal not my proselyte away! The riddle 'tis my right to read, That brought this happy chance to speed. --Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 785 In life's more low but happier way, 'Tis under name which veils my power, Nor falsely veils--for Stirling's tower Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 790 Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, Thus learn to right the injured cause." Then, in a tone apart and low-- "Ah, little traitress! none must know What idle dream, what lighter thought, 795 What vanity full dearly bought, Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew My spell-bound steps to Benvenue, In dangerous hour, and all but gave Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive!"-- 800 Aloud he spoke, "Thou still dost hold That little talisman of gold, Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring-- What seeks fair Ellen of the King?"
XXIX
Full well the conscious maiden guessed 805 He probed the weakness of her breast; But, with that consciousness, there came A lightening of her fears for Graeme, And more she deemed the Monarch's ire Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire 810 Rebellious broadsword boldly drew; And, to her generous feeling true, She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. "Forbear thy suit--the King of kings Alone can stay life's parting wings. 815 I know his heart, I know his hand, Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand. My fairest earldom would I give To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live!-- Hast thou no other boon to crave? 820 No other captive friend to save?" Blushing, she turned her from the King, And to the Douglas gave the ring, As if she wished her sire to speak The suit that stained her glowing cheek. 825 "Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, And stubborn justice holds her course. Malcolm, come forth!"--and, at the word, Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's lord. "For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, 830 From thee may Vengeance claim her dues, Who, nurtured underneath our smile, Hast paid our care by treacherous wile, And sought, amid thy faithful clan, A refuge for an outlawed man, 835 Dishonoring thus thy loyal name. Fetters and warder for the Graeme!" His chain of gold the King unstrung, The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, Then gently drew the glittering band, 840 And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand.
* * * * *
Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark, On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; In twilight copse the glowworm lights her spark, The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending. 845 Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending, And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy; Thy slumbers sweet with Nature's vespers blending, With distant echo from the fold and lea, And herdboy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. 850
Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel harp! Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, And little reck I of the censure sharp May idly cavil at an idle lay. Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, 855 Through secret woes the world has never known, When on the weary night dawned wearier day, And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. That I o'erlived such woes, Enchantress! is thine own.
Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, 860 Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string! 'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. Receding now, the dying numbers ring Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell, 865 And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring A wandering witch-note of the distant spell-- And now, 'tis silent all!--Enchantress, fare thee well!
NOTES
CANTO FIRST
2. =witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring.= The well or spring of St. Fillan is on the summit of a hill near Loch Earn, some miles northeast of the scene of the poem. The reason why Scott places the "Harp of the North" here is that St. Fillan was the favorite saint of Robert Bruce, and a relic of the saint had been borne in a shrine by a warlike abbot at the battle of Bannockburn. The word "witch" (more properly spelled "wych") is connected with "wicker" and means "bending," "drooping."
10. =Caledon.= Caledonia, poetic name for Scotland.
29. =Monan's rill.= Scott takes the liberty of assigning a "rill" to this Scottish martyr of the fourth century on his own authority, unless his editors have been at fault in failing to discover the stream indicated.
31. =Glenartney's.= Glen Artney or Valley of the Artney. The Artney is a small river northeast of the main scene of the poem.
33. =Benvoirlich.= "Ben" is Scottish for mountain. Benvoirlich is near the western end of Glenartney.
53. =Uam-Var.= A mountain between Glenartney and the Braes of Doune. The name signifies "great den," and is derived from a rocky enclosure on the mountain-side, believed to have been used in primitive times as a toil or trap for deer. As told in Stanza IV a giant was fabled to have inhabited this den.
71. =linn.= This word means either "waterfall" or "steep ravine." The latter is probably the meaning here.
89. =Menteith.= A village and district southeast of the line of lakes--Loch Katrine, Loch Achray, and Loch Vennachar--about which the main action of the poem moves.
93. =Lochard.= Loch Ard, a small lake south of Loch Katrine. =Aberfoyle.= A village east of Loch Ard.
95. =Loch-Achray.= See note on 89.
97. =Benvenue.= A mountain on the south bank of Loch Katrine.
103. =Cambusmore.= An estate owned by Scott's friends, the Buchanans, on the border of the Braes of Doune.
105. =Benledi.= A majestic mountain shutting in the horizon to the north of Loch Vennachar.
106. =Bochastle's heath.= The plain between Loch Vennachar and the river Teith.
112. =Brigg of Turk.= A romantic bridge, still in existence, between Loch Vennachar and Loch Achray.
120. =dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed.= A breed of dogs, usually black in color, very keen of scent and powerful in build, were kept by the abbots of St. Hubert in commemoration of their patron saint, who was a hunter.
138. =whinyard.= Obsolete term for _sword_.
145. =Trossachs.= A wild and beautiful defile between Loch Katrine and Loch Achray. The word signifies "rough or bristled country."
166. =Woe worth the chase.= "Woe worth" is an exclamation, equivalent to "alack!"
178. =Round and around the sounds were cast.= Notice the mimicry of the echo in the vowel sounds of the line.
196. =tower ... on Shinar's plain.= The Tower of Babel.
208. =dewdrops sheen.= What part of speech is _sheen_? Is this use of the word obsolete in prose?
227. =frequent flung.= "Frequent" is used in the original Latin sense (Lat. _frequens_) of "crowded together," "numerous."
256. =Unless he climb, with footing nice.= Scott says: "Until the present road was made through the romantic pass I have presumptuously attempted to describe, there was no mode of issuing out of the defile called the Trossachs, excepting by a sort of ladder, composed of the branches and roots of trees." What is the meaning of "nice" here? What other meanings has the word had?
313. =Highland plunderers.= The clans inhabiting the region about Loch Katrine were in the habit of making incursions into the neighboring Lowlands to plunder and lay waste the country. Their warlike habits were fostered by the rugged and almost inaccessible character of the country, which prevented the Lowlanders from retaliating upon them, and enabled them also to resist the royal authority.
363. =snood.= A ribbon worn by Scotch lassies and upon marriage replaced by the matron's "curch" or cap. =plaid.= A rectangular shawl-like garment made of the checkered cloth called tartan.
438. =couch was pulled.= Freshly pulled heather was the most luxurious bedding known to the Highlander.
440. =ptarmigan and heath-cock.= These birds are a species of grouse, the one red, the other black.
460. =on the visioned future bent.= The gift of second-sight was universally believed in at this period in the Highlands.
504. =retreat in dangerous hour.= "The Celtic chieftains, whose lives were continually exposed to peril, had usually, in the most retired spot of their domain, some place of retreat for the hour of necessity ... a tower, a cavern, or a rustic hut." (Scott's note in edition of 1830.)
546. =target.= What is the connection of this word with that used in archery and gun-practice?
566. =brook to wield.= "Brook" commonly means "endure." What is its exact meaning here?
573. =Ferragus, or Ascabart.= Two giants whose names appear frequently in medieval romances of chivalry. The first is better known as Ferran, under which name he figures in the _Orlando Furioso_ of Ariosto. Ascabart plays a part in the old English metrical romance of Sir Bevis of Hampton.