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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519696" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Lady of the Lake: Canto 5 (excerpt)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Have, then, thy wish!&quot;--he whistled shrill, <br> And he was answer'd from the hill;<br> Wild as the scream of the curlew,<br> From crag to crag the signal flew.<br> Instant, through copse and heath, <br> Bonnets and spears and bended bows;<br> On right, on left, above, below,<br> Sprung up at once the lurking foe;<br> From shingles gray their lances start,<br> The bracken bush sends forth the dart,<br> The rushes and the willow-wand<br> Are bristling into axe and brand,<br> And every tuft of broom gives life<br> To plaided warrior arm'd for strife.<br> That whistle garrison'd the glen<br> At once with full five hundred men,<br> As if the yawning hill to heaven<br> A subterranean host had given.<br> Watching their leader's beck and will,<br> All silent there they stood, and still.<br> Like the loose crags whose threatening mass<br> Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass,<br> As if an infant's touch could urge<br> Their headlong passage down the verge,<br> With step and weapon forward flung,<br> Upon the mountain-side they hung.<br> The Mountaineer cast glance of pride<br> Along Benledi's living side,<br> Then fix'd his eye and sable brow<br> Full on Fitz-James--&quot;How say'st thou now?<br> These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;<br> And, Saxon,--I am Roderick Dhu!&quot;X</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Fitz-James was brave:--Though to his heart<br> The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start,<br> He mann'd himself with dauntless air,<br> Return'd the Chief his haughty stare,<br> His back against a rock he bore,<br> And firmly placed his foot before:--<br> &quot;Come one, come all! this rock shall fly<br> From its firm base as soon as I.&quot;<br> Sir Roderick mark'd--and in his eyes<br> Respect was mingled with surprise,<br> And the stern joy which warriors feel<br> In foemen worthy of their steel.<br> Short space he stood, then waved his hand:<br> Down sunk the disappearing band;<br> Each warrior vanish'd where he stood,<br> In broom or bracken, heath or wood;<br> Sunk brand and spear and bended bow,<br> In osiers pale and copses low;<br> It seem'd as if their mother Earth<br> Had swallow'd up her warlike birth.<br> The wind's last breath had toss'd in air,<br> Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair,--<br> The next but swept a lone hill-side,<br> Where heath and fern were waving wide:<br> The sun's last glance was glinted back,<br> From spear and glaive, from targe and jack,--<br> The next, all unreflected, shone<br> On bracken green, and cold grey stone.XI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Fitz-James look'd round--yet scarce believed<br> The witness that his sight received;<br> Such apparition well might seem<br> Delusion of a dreadful dream.<br> Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,<br> And to his look the Chief replied,<br> &quot;Fear nought--nay, that I need not say--<br> But--doubt not aught from mine array.<br> Thou art my guest;--I pledged my word<br> As far as Coilantogle ford:<br> Nor would I call a clansman's brand<br> For aid against one valiant hand,<br> Though on our strife lay every vale<br> Rent by the Saxon from the Gael.<br> So move we on;--I only meant<br> To show the reed on which you leant,<br> Deeming this path you might pursue<br> Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.&quot;<br> They moved:--I said Fitz-James was brave,<br> As ever knight that belted glaive;<br> Yet dare not say, that now his blood<br> Kept on its wont and temper'd flood,<br> As, following Roderick's stride, he drew<br> That seeming lonesome pathway through,<br> Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife<br> With lances, that, to take his life,<br> Waited but signal from a guide,<br> So late dishonour'd and defied.<br> Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round<br> The vanish'd guardians of the ground,<br> And still, from copse and heather deep,<br> Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep,<br> And in the plover's shrilly strain,<br> The signal-whistle heard again.<br> Nor breathed he free till far behind<br> The pass was left; for then they wind<br> Along a wide and level green,<br> Where neither tree nor tuft was seen,<br> Nor rush nor bush of broom was near,<br> To hide a bonnet or a spear.XII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> The Chief in silence strode before,<br> And reach'd that torrent's sounding shore<br> Which, daughter of three mighty lakes,<br> From Vennachar in silver breaks,<br> Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines<br> On Bochastle the mouldering lines,<br> Where Rome, the Empress of the world,<br> Of yore her eagle wings unfurl'd.<br> And here his course the Chieftain staid,<br> Threw down his target and his plaid,<br> And to the Lowland warrior said:--<br> &quot;Bold Saxon! to his promise just,<br> Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust.<br> This murderous Chief, this ruthless man,<br> This head of a rebellious clan,<br> Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward,<br> Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard.<br> Now man to man, and steel to steel,<br> A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel.<br> See here, all vantageless I stand,<br> Arm'd, like thyself, with single brand:<br> For this is Coilantogle ford,<br> And thou must keep thee with thy sword.&quot;--XIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> The Saxon paused:--&quot;I ne'er delay'd,<br> When foeman bade me draw my blade;<br> Nay more, brave Chief, I vow'd thy death:<br> Yet sure thy fair and generous faith,<br> And my deep debt for life preserved,<br> A better meed have well deserved:<br> Can nought but blood our feud atone?<br> Are there no means?&quot;--&quot;No, Stranger, none!<br> And hear,--to fire thy flagging zeal,--<br> The Saxon cause rests on thy steel;<br> For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred<br> Between the living and the dead:<br> 'Who spills the foremost foeman's life,<br> His party conquers in the strife.' &quot;--<br> &quot;Then, by my word,&quot; the Saxon said,<br> &quot;The riddle is already read.<br> Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff,--<br> There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.<br> Thus Fate has solved her prophecy,<br> Then yield to Fate, and not to me.<br> To James, at Stirling, let us go,<br> When, if thou wilt be still his foe,<br> Or if the King shall not agree<br> To grant thee grace and favour free,<br> I plight mine honour, oath, and word,<br> That, to thy native strengths restored,<br> With each advantage shalt thou stand,<br> That aids thee now to guard thy land.&quot;XIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Dark lightning flash'd from Roderick's eye<br> &quot;Soars thy presumption, then, so high,<br> Because a wretched kern ye slew,<br> Homage to name to Roderick Dhu?<br> He yields not, he, to man nor Fate!<br> Thou add'st but fuel to my hate:--<br> My clansman's blood demands revenge.<br> Not yet prepared?--By heaven, I change<br> My thought, and hold thy valour light<br> As that of some vain carpet knight,<br> Who ill deserved my courteous care,<br> And whose best boast is but to wear<br> A braid of his fair lady's hair.&quot;--<br> --&quot;I thank thee, Roderick, for the word!<br> It nerves my heart, it steels my sword;<br> For I have sworn this braid to stain<br> In the best blood that warms thy vein.<br> Now, truce, farewell! and, ruth, begone!--<br> Yet think not that by thee alone,<br> Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown;<br> Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn,<br> Start at my whistle clansmen stern,<br> On this small horn one feeble blast<br> Would fearful odds against thee cast.<br> But fear not--doubt not--which thou wilt--<br> We try this quarrel hilt to hilt.&quot;<br> Then each at once his falchion drew,<br> Each on the ground his scabbard threw,<br> Each look'd to sun, and stream, and plain,<br> As what they ne'er might see again;<br> Then foot, and point, and eye opposed,<br> In dubious strife they darkly closed.XV</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu,<br> That on the field his targe he threw,<br> Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide<br> Had death so often dash'd aside;<br> For, train'd abroad his arms to wield,<br> Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield.<br> He practised every pass and ward,<br> To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard;<br> While less expert, though stronger far,<br> The Gael maintain'd unequal war.<br> Three times in closing strife they stood,<br> And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood;<br> No stinted draught, no scanty tide,<br> The gushing flood the tartans dyed.<br> Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain,<br> And shower'd his blows like wintry rain;<br> And, as firm rock, or castle-roof,<br> Against the winter shower is proof,<br> The foe, invulnerable still,<br> Foil'd his wild rage by steady skill;<br> Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand<br> Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand,<br> And backward borne upon the lea,<br> Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee.XVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> &quot;Now, yield thee, or by Him who made<br> The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!&quot;--<br> &quot;Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy!<br> Let recreant yield, who fears to die.&quot;<br> --Like adder darting from his coil,<br> Like wolf that dashes through the toil,<br> Like mountain-cat who guards her young,<br> Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung;<br> Received, but reck'd not of a wound,<br> And lock'd his arms his foeman round.--<br> Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own!<br> No maiden's hand is round thee thrown!<br> That desperate grasp thy frame might feel,<br> Through bars of brass and triple steel!--<br> They tug, they strain! down, down they go,<br> The Gael above, Fitz-James below.<br> The Chieftain's gripe his throat compress'd,<br> His knee was planted in his breast;<br> His clotted locks he backward threw,<br> Across his brow his hand he drew,<br> From blood and mist to clear his sight,<br> Then gleam'd aloft his dagger bright!--<br> --But hate and fury ill supplied<br> The stream of life's exhausted tide,<br> And all too late the advantage came,<br> To turn the odds of deadly game;<br> For, while the dagger gleam'd on high,<br> Reel'd soul and sense, reel'd brain and eye.<br> Down came the blow! but in the heath<br> The erring blade found bloodless sheath.<br> The struggling foe may now unclasp<br> The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp;<br> Unwounded from the dreadful close,<br> But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Walter+Scott">Sir Walter Scott</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519696" data-title="The Lady of the Lake: Canto 5 (excerpt) de Sir Walter Scott" data-description="&quot;Have, then, thy wish!&quot;--he whistled shrill, 
 And he was answer'd from the hill;
 Wild as the scream of the curlew,
 From crag to crag the signal flew.
 Instant, through copse and heath, 
 Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
 On right, ..."></div>
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