Lady of the Lake

Scott, Walter, Sir

• Publisher: pubOne.info
• Year: 2010
• eBook ISBN: 9782819916437
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Classics
• Index: Literature

pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. When I first saw Mr. Osgood's beautiful illustrated edition of The Lady of the Lake, I asked him to let me use some of the cuts in a cheaper annotated edition for school and household use; and the present volume is the result.

CANTO FOURTH.

The Prophecy.

I.

The rose is fairest when 't is budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears. O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, Emblem of hope and love through future years!' Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave.

II.

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, His axe and bow beside him lay, For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood A wakeful sentinel he stood. Hark! - on the rock a footstep rung, And instant to his arms he sprung. 'Stand, or thou diest! - What, Malise? - soon Art thou returned from Braes of Doune. By thy keen step and glance I know, Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe.' - For while the Fiery Cross tried on, On distant scout had Malise gone. - 'Where sleeps the Chief?' the henchman said. 'Apart, in yonder misty glade; To his lone couch I'll be your guide.' - Then called a slumberer by his side, And stirred him with his slackened bow, - 'Up, up, Glentarkin! rouse thee, ho! We seek the Chieftain; on the track Keep eagle watch till I come back.'

III.

Together up the pass they sped: 'What of the foeman?' Norman said. - 'Varying reports from near and far; This certain, - that a band of war Has for two days been ready boune, At prompt command to march from Doune; King James the while, with princely powers, Holds revelry in Stirling towers. Soon will this dark and gathering cloud Speak on our glens in thunder loud. Inured to bide such bitter bout, The warrior's plaid may bear it out; But, Norman, how wilt thou provide A shelter for thy bonny bride? '' - 'What! know ye not that Roderick's care To the lone isle hath caused repair Each maid and matron of the clan, And every child and aged man Unfit for arms; and given his charge, Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, Upon these lakes shall float at large, But all beside the islet moor, That such dear pledge may rest secure?' -

IV.

' 'T is well advised, - the Chieftain's plan Bespeaks the father of his clan. But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu Apart from all his followers true? ' 'It is because last evening-tide Brian an augury hath tried, Of that dread kind which must not be Unless in dread extremity, The Taghairm called; by which, afar, Our sires foresaw the events of war. Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew,' -

Malise.

'Ah! well the gallant brute I knew! The choicest of the prey we had When swept our merrymen Gallangad. His hide was snow, his horns were dark, His red eye glowed like fiery spark; So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet, Sore did he cumber our retreat, And kept our stoutest kerns in awe, Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. But steep and flinty was the road, And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad, And when we came to Dennan's Row A child might scathless stroke his brow.'

V.

Norman.

'That bull was slain; his reeking hide They stretched the cataract beside, Whose waters their wild tumult toss Adown the black and craggy boss Of that huge cliff whose ample verge Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. Couched on a shelf beneath its brink, Close where the thundering torrents sink, Rocking beneath their headlong sway, And drizzled by the ceaseless spray, Midst groan of rock and roar of stream, The wizard waits prophetic dream. Nor distant rests the Chief; - but hush! See, gliding slow through mist and bush, The hermit gains yon rock, and stands To gaze upon our slumbering bands. Seems he not, Malise, dike a ghost, That hovers o'er a slaughtered host? Or raven on the blasted oak, That, watching while the deer is broke, His morsel claims with sullen croak?'

Malise.

'Peace! peace! to other than to me Thy words were evil augury; But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid, Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell, Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell. The Chieftain joins him, see - and now Together they descend the brow.'

VI.

And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord The Hermit Monk held solemn word: - . 'Roderick! it is a fearful strife, For man endowed with mortal life Whose shroud of sentient clay can still Feel feverish pang and fainting chill, Whose eye can stare in stony trance Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance, 'Tis hard for such to view, unfurled, The curtain of the future world. Yet, witness every quaking limb, My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim, My soul with harrowing anguish torn, This for my Chieftain have I borne! - The shapes that sought my fearful couch A human tongue may ne'er avouch; No mortal man - save he, who, bred Between the living and the dead, Is gifted beyond nature's law Had e'er survived to say he saw. At length the fateful answer came In characters of living flame! Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, But borne and branded on my soul: - WHICH SPILLS THE FOREMOST FOEMAN'S LIFE, THAT PARTY CONQUERS IN THE STRIFE.'

VII.

'Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care! Good is shine augury, and fair. Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood But first our broadswords tasted blood. A surer victim still I know, Self-offered to the auspicious blow: A spy has sought my land this morn, - No eve shall witness his return! My followers guard each pass's mouth, To east, to westward, and to south; Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide, Has charge to lead his steps aside, Till in deep path or dingle brown He light on those shall bring him clown. But see, who comes his news to show! Malise! what tidings of the foe?'

VIII.

'At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive Two Barons proud their banners wave. I saw the Moray's silver star, And marked the sable pale of Mar.' 'By Alpine's soul, high tidings those! I love to hear of worthy foes. When move they on?' 'To-morrow's noon Will see them here for battle boune.' 'Then shall it see a meeting stern! But, for the place, - say, couldst thou learn Nought of the friendly clans of Earn? Strengthened by them, we well might bide The battle on Benledi's side. Thou couldst not? - well! Clan-Alpine's men Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen; Within Loch Katrine's gorge we'll fight, All in our maids' and matrons' sight, Each for his hearth and household fire, Father for child, and son for sire Lover for maid beloved! - But why Is it the breeze affects mine eye? Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear! A messenger of doubt or fear? No! sooner may the Saxon lance Unfix Benledi from his stance, Than doubt or terror can pierce through The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu! 'tis stubborn as his trusty targe. Each to his post! - all know their charge.' The pibroch sounds, the bands advance, The broadswords gleam, the banners dance' Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. - I turn me from the martial roar And seek Coir-Uriskin once more.

IX.

Where is the Douglas? - he is gone; And Ellen sits on the gray stone Fast by the cave, and makes her moan, While vainly Allan's words of cheer Are poured on her unheeding ear. 'He will return - dear lady, trust! - With joy return; - he will - he must. Well was it time to seek afar Some refuge from impending war, When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm Are cowed by the approaching storm. I saw their boats with many a light, Floating the livelong yesternight, Shifting like flashes darted forth By the red streamers of the north; I marked at morn how close they ride, Thick moored by the lone islet's side, Like wild ducks couching in the fen When stoops the hawk upon the glen. Since this rude race dare not abide The peril on the mainland side, Shall not thy noble father's care Some safe retreat for thee prepare?'

X.

Ellen.

'No, Allan, no ' Pretext so kind My wakeful terrors could not blind. When in such tender tone, yet grave, Douglas a parting blessing gave, The tear that glistened in his eye Drowned not his purpose fixed and high. My soul, though feminine and weak, Can image his; e'en as the lake, Itself disturbed by slightest stroke. Reflects the invulnerable rock. He hears report of battle rife, He deems himself the cause of strife. I saw him redden when the theme Turned, Allan, on shine idle dream Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound, Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. Think'st thou he bowed shine omen aught? O no' 't was apprehensive thought For the kind youth, - for Roderick too - Let me be just - that friend so true; In danger both, and in our cause! Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. Why else that solemn warning given, 'If not on earth, we meet in heaven!' Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane, If eve return him not again, Am I to hie and make me known? Alas! he goes to Scotland's throne, Buys his friends' safety with his own; He goes to do - what I had done, Had Douglas' daughter been his son!'

XI.

'Nay, lovely Ellen! - dearest, nay! If aught should his return delay, He only named yon holy fane As fitting place to meet again. Be sure he's safe; and for the Graeme, - Heaven's blessing on his gallant name! - My visioned sight may yet prove true, Nor bode of ill to him or you. When did my gifted dream beguile? Think of the stranger at the isle, And think upon the harpings slow That presaged this approaching woe! Sooth was my prophecy of fear; Believe it when it augurs cheer. Would we had left this dismal spot! Ill luck still haunts a fairy spot! Of such a wondrous tale I know - Dear lady, change that look of woe, My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.'

Ellen.

'Well, be it as thou wilt; I hear, But cannot stop the bursting tear.' The Minstrel tried his simple art, Rut distant far was Ellen's heart.

XII.

Ballad.

Alice Brand.

Merry it is in the good greenwood, When the mavis and merle are singing, When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, And the hunter's horn is ringing.

'O Alice Brand, my native land Is lost for love of you; And we must hold by wood and word, As outlaws wont to do.

'O Alice, 't was all for thy locks so bright, And 't was all for shine eyes so blue, That on the night of our luckless flight Thy brother bold I slew.

'Now must I teach to hew the beech The hand that held the glaive, For leaves to spread our lowly bed, And stakes to fence our cave.

'And for vest of pall, thy fingers small, That wont on harp to stray, A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer, To keep the cold away.'

'O Richard! if my brother died, 'T was but a fatal chance; For darkling was the battle tried, And fortune sped the lance.

'If pall and vair no more I wear, Nor thou the crimson sheen As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray, As gay the forest-green.

'And, Richard, if our lot be hard, And lost thy native land, Still Alice has her own Richard, And he his Alice Brand.'

XIII.

Ballad Continued.

'tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood; So blithe Lady Alice is singing; On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, Lord Richard's axe is ringing.

Up spoke the moody Elfin King, Who woned within the hill, - Like wind in the porch of a ruined church, His voice was ghostly shrill.

'Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, Our moonlight circle's screen? Or who comes here to chase the deer, Beloved of our Elfin Queen? Or who may dare on wold to wear The fairies' fatal green?

'Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie, For thou wert christened man; For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, For muttered word or ban.

'Lay on him the curse of the withered heart, The curse of the sleepless eye; Till he wish and pray that his life would part, Nor yet find leave to die.'

XIV.

Ballad Continued.

'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, Though the birds have stilled their singing; The evening blaze cloth Alice raise, And Richard is fagots bringing.

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, Before Lord Richard stands, And, as he crossed and blessed himself, 'I fear not sign,' quoth the grisly elf, 'That is made with bloody hands.'

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, That woman void of fear, - 'And if there 's blood upon his hand, 'Tis but the blood of deer.'

'Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood! It cleaves unto his hand, The stain of shine own kindly blood, The blood of Ethert Brand.'

Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand, And made the holy sign, - 'And if there's blood on Richard's hand, A spotless hand is mine.

'And I conjure thee, demon elf, By Him whom demons fear, To show us whence thou art thyself, And what shine errand here? '

XV.

Ballad Continued.

"Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, When fairy birds are singing, When the court cloth ride by their monarch's side, With bit and bridle ringing:

'And gayly shines the Fairy-land - But all is glistening show, Like the idle gleam that December's beam Can dart on ice and snow.

'And fading, like that varied gleam, Is our inconstant shape, Who now like knight and lady seem, And now like dwarf and ape.

'It was between the night and day, When the Fairy King has power, That I sunk down in a sinful fray, And 'twixt life and death was snatched away To the joyless Elfin bower.

'But wist I of a woman bold, Who thrice my brow durst sign, I might regain my mortal mould, As fair a form as thine.'

She crossed him once - she crossed him twice - That lady was so brave; The fouler grew his goblin hue, The darker grew the cave.

She crossed him thrice, that lady bold; He rose beneath her hand The fairest knight on Scottish mould, Her brother, Ethert Brand!

Merry it is in good greenwood, When the mavis and merle are singing, But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray, When all the bells were ringing.

XVI.

Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed, A stranger climbed the steepy glade; His martial step, his stately mien, His hunting-suit of Lincoln green, His eagle glance, remembrance claims - 'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz-James. Ellen beheld as in a dream, Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream: 'O stranger! in such hour of fear What evil hap has brought thee here?' 'An evil hap how can it be That bids me look again on thee? By promise bound, my former guide Met me betimes this morning-tide, And marshalled over bank and bourne The happy path of my return.' 'The happy path! - what! said he naught Of war, of battle to be fought, Of guarded pass? ' ' No, by my faith! Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.' 'O haste thee, Allan, to the kern: Yonder his tartars I discern; Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 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 sympat...

Table of contents

• Preface
• Argument.
• THE LADY OF THE LAKE.
• CANTO FIRST.
• CANTO SECOND.
• CANTO THIRD.
• CANTO FOURTH.
• CANTO FIFTH.
• CANTO SIXTH.
• Copyright