<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519710" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Lord of the Isles: Canto V.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I. <br>On fair Loch-Ranza stream'd the early day,<br>Thin wreaths of cottage-smoke are upward curl'd<br>From the lone hamlet, which her inland bay<br>And circling mountains sever from the world.<br>And there the fisherman his sail unfurl'd,<br>The goat-herd drove his kids to steep Ben-Ghoil,<br>Before the hut the dame her spindle twirl'd,<br>Courting the sunbeam as she plied her toil, -<br>For, wake where'er he may, Man wakes to care and coil.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But other duties call'd each convent maid,<br>Roused by the summons of the moss-grown bell;<br>Sung were the matins, and the mass was said,<br>And every sister sought her separate cell,<br>Such was the rule, her rosary to tell.<br>And Isabel has knelt in lonely prayer;<br>The sunbeam, through the narrow lattice, fell<br>Upon the snowy neck and long dark hair,<br>As stoop'd her gentle head in meek devotion there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II.<br>She raised her eyes, that duty done,<br>When glanced upon the pavement-stone,<br>Gemm'd and enchased, a golden ring,<br>Bound to a scroll with silken string,<br>With few brief words inscribed to tell,<br>'This for the Lady Isabel.'<br>Within, the writing farther bore,-<br>''Twas with this ring his plight he swore,<br>With this his promise I restore;<br>To her who can the heart command,<br>Well may I yield the plighted hand.<br>And O! for better fortune born,<br>Grudge not a passing sigh to mourn<br>Her who was Edith once of Lorn!'<br>One single flash of glad surprise<br>Just glanced from Isabel's dark eyes,<br>But vanish'd in the blush of shame,<br>That, as its penance, instant came.<br>'O thought unworthy of my race!<br>Selfish, ungenerous, mean, and base,<br>A moment's throb of joy to own,<br>That rose upon her hopes o'erthrown!-<br>Thou pledge of vows too well believed,<br>Of man ingrate and maid deceived,<br>Think not thy lustre here shall gain<br>Another heart to hope in vain!<br>For thou shalt rest, thou tempting gaud,<br>Where worldly thoughts are overawed,<br>And worldly splendours sink debased.'<br>Then by the cross the ring she placed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.<br>Next rose the thought, - its owner far,<br>How came it here through bolt and bar?-<br>But the dim lattice is ajar.-<br>She looks abroad,- the morning dew<br>A light short step had brush'd anew,<br>And there were footprints seen<br>On the carved buttress rising still,<br>Till on the mossy window-sill<br>Their track effaced the green.<br>The ivy twigs were torn and fray'd,<br>As if some climber's steps to aid.-<br>But who the hardy messenger,<br>Whose venturous path these signs infer?-<br>Strange doubts are mine! - Mona, draw nigh;<br>- Nought 'scapes old Mona's curious eye-<br>What strangers, gentle mother, say,<br>Have sought these holy walls to-day?'<br>'None, Lady, none of note or name;<br>Only your brother's foot-page came,<br>At peep of dawn - I pray'd him pass<br>To chapel where they said the mass;<br>But like an arrow he shot by,<br>And tears seem'd bursting from his eye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV.<br>The truth at once on Isabel,<br>As darted by a sunbeam fell:<br>''Tis Edith's self! - her speechless woe,<br>Her form, her looks, the secret show!<br>- Instant, good Mona, to the bay,<br>And to my royal brother say,<br>I do conjure him seek my cell,<br>With that mute page he loves so well.' -<br>'What! know'st thou not his warlike host<br>My old eyes saw them from the tower.<br>At eve they couch'd in greenwood bower,<br>At dawn a bugle signal, made<br>By their bold Lord, their ranks array'd;<br>Up sprung the spears through bush and tree,<br>No time for benedicite!<br>Like deer, that, rousing from their lair,<br>Just shake the dewdrops from their hair,<br>And toss their armed crests aloft,<br>Such matins theirs!' - 'Good mother, soft-<br>Where does my brother bend his way?'-<br>'As I have heard, for Brodick-Bay,<br>Across the isle - of barks a score<br>Lie there, 'tis said, to waft them o'er,<br>On sudden news, to Carrick-shore.'-<br>'If such their purpose, deep the need,'<br>Said anxious Isabel, 'of speed!<br>Call Father Augustine, good dame.'-<br>The nun obey'd, the Father came.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V.<br>'Kind Father, hie without delay,<br>Across the hills to Brodick-Bay.<br>This message to the Bruce be given;<br>I pray him, by his hopes of Heaven,<br>That, till he speak with me, he stay!<br>Or, if his haste brook no delay,<br>That he deliver, on my suit,<br>Into thy charge that stripling mute.<br>Thus prays his sister Isabel,<br>For causes more than she may tell-<br>Away, good Father! and take heed,<br>That life and death are on thy speed.'<br>His cowl the good old priest did on,<br>Took his piked staff and sandall'd shoon,<br>And, like a palmer bent by eld,<br>O'er moss and moor his journey held.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI.<br>Heavy and dull the foot of age,<br>And rugged was the pilgrimage;<br>But none was there beside, whose care<br>Might such important message bear.<br>Through birchen copse he wander'd slow,<br>Stunted and sapless, thin and low;<br>By many a mountain stream he pass'd,<br>From the tall cliffs in tumult cast,<br>Dashing to foam their waters dun,<br>And sparkling in the summer sun.<br>Round his grey head the wild curlew<br>In many a fearless circle flew.<br>O'er chasms he pass'd, where fractures wide<br>Craved wary eye and ample stride;<br>He cross'd his brow beside the stone,<br>Where Druids erst heard victims groan,<br>And at the cairns upon the wild,<br>O'er many a heathen hero piled,<br>He breathed a timid prayer for those<br>Who died ere Shiloh's sun arose.<br>Beside Macfarlane's Cross he staid,<br>There told his hours within the shade,<br>And at the stream his thirst allay'd.<br>Thence onward journeying slowly still,<br>As evening closed he reach'd the hill,<br>Where, rising through the woodland green,<br>Old Brodick's gothic towers were seen,<br>From Hastings, late their English lord,<br>Douglas had won them by the sword.<br>The sun that sunk behind the isle,<br>Now tined them with a parting smile.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII.<br>But though the beams of light decay,<br>'Twas bustle all in Brodick-Bay.<br>The Bruce's followers crowd the shore,<br>And boats and barges some unmoor,<br>Some raise the sail, some seize the oar;<br>Their eyes oft turn'd where glimmer'd far<br>What might have seem'd an early star<br>On heaven's blue arch, save that its light<br>Was all too flickering, fierce, and bright.<br>Far distant in the south, the ray<br>Shone pale amid retiring day,<br>But as, on Carrick shore,<br>Dim seen in outline faintly blue,<br>The shades of evening closer drew,<br>It kindled more and more.<br>The monk's slow steps now press the sands,<br>And now amid a scene he stands,<br>Full strange to churchman's eye;<br>Warriors, who, arming for the fight,<br>Rivet and clasp their harness light,<br>And twinkling spears, and axes bright,<br>And helmets flashing high.<br>Oft, too, with unaccustom'd ears,<br>A language much unmeet he hears,<br>While, hastening all on board,<br>As stormy as the swelling surge<br>That mix'd its roar, the leaders urge<br>Their followers to the ocean verge,<br>With many a haughty word.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII.<br>Through that wild throng the Father pass'd,<br>And reach'd the Royal Bruce at last.<br>He leant against a stranded boat,<br>That the approaching tide must float,<br>And counted every rippling wave,<br>As higher yet her sides they lave,<br>And oft the distant fire he eyed,<br>And closer yet his hauberk tied, <br>And loosen'd in his sheath his brand.<br>Edward and Lennox were at hand,<br>Douglas and Ronald had the care<br>The soldiers to the barks to share.-<br>The monk approach'd and homage paid;<br>'And art thou come,' King Robert said,<br>'So far to bless us ere we part?'-<br>-'My Liege, and with a loyal heart!-<br>But other charge I have to tell,'-<br>And spoke the hest of Isabel.<br>-'Now by Saint Giles,' the Monarch cried,<br>'This moves me much! - this morning tide,<br>I spent the stripling to Saint Bride,<br>With my commandment there to bide.'<br>-'Thither he came the portress show'd,<br>But there, my Liege, made brief abode.'-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX.<br>''Twas I,' said Edward, 'found employ<br>Of nobler import for the boy.<br>Deep pondering in my anxious mind,<br>A fitting messenger to find,<br>To bear thy written mandate o'er<br>To Cuthbert on the Carrick shore,<br>I chanced, at early dawn, to pass<br>The chapel gate to snatch a mass.<br>I found the stripling on a tomb<br>Low-seated, weeping for the doom<br>That gave his youth to convent gloom.<br>I told my purpose, and his eyes<br>Flash'd joyful at the glad surprise.<br>He bounded to the skiff, the sail<br>Was spread before a prosperous gale,<br>And well my charge he hath obey'd;<br>For, see! the ruddy signal made,<br>That Clifford with his merry-men all,<br>Guards carelessly our father's hall.'-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">X.<br>'O wild of thought, and hard of heart!'<br>Answer'd the Monarch, 'on a part<br>Of such deep danger to employ<br>A mute, an orphan, and a boy!<br>Unfit for flight, unfit for strife,<br>Without a tongue to plead for life!<br>Now, were my right restored by Heaven,<br>Edward, my crown I would have given,<br>Ere, thrust on such adventure wild,<br>I perill'd thus the helpless child.'-<br>- Offended half, and half submiss,-<br>'Brother and Liege, of blame like this,'<br>Edward replied, 'I little dream'd.<br>A stranger messenger, I deem'd,<br>Might safest seek the beadsman's cell,<br>Where all thy squires are known so well.<br>Noteless his presence, sharp his sense,<br>His imperfection his defence.<br>If seen, none can his errand guess;<br>If ta'en, his words no tale express-<br>Methinks, too, yonder beacon's shine<br>Might expatiate greater fault than mine.'-<br>'Rash,' said King Robert, 'was the deed-<br>But it is done. Embark with speed!-<br>Good Father, say to Isabel<br>How this unhappy chance befell;<br>If well we thrive on yonder shore,<br>Soon shall my care her page restore.<br>Our greeting to our sister bear,<br>And think of us in mass and prayer.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XI.<br>'Aye!' - said the priest, 'while this poor hand<br>Can chalice raise or cross command,<br>While my old voice has accents' use,<br>Can Augustine forget the Bruce!'<br>Then to his side Lord Ronald press'd,<br>And whisper'd, 'Bear thou this request,<br>That when by Bruce's side I fight,<br>For Scotland's crown and Freedom's right,<br>The princess grace her knight to bear<br>Some token of her favouring care;<br>It shall be shown where England's best<br>May shrink to see it on my crest.<br>And for the boy - since weightier care<br>For Royal Bruce the times prepare,<br>The helpless youth is Ronald's charge,<br>His couch my plaid, his fence my targe.'<br>He ceased; for many an eager hand<br>Had urged the barges from the strand.<br>Their number was a score and ten,<br>They bore thrice threescore chosen men.<br>With such small force did Bruce at last<br>The die for death or empire cast!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XII.<br>Now on the darkening main afloat,<br>Ready and mann'd rocks every boat;<br>Beneath their oars the ocean's might<br>Was dash'd to sparks of glimmering light.<br>Faint and more faint, as off they bore,<br>Their armour glanced against the shore,<br>And, mingled with the dashing tide,<br>Their murmuring voices distant died.-<br>'God speed them!' said the Priest, as dark<br>On distant billows glides each bark; <br>'O Heaven! when swords for freedom shine,<br>And monarch's right, the cause is thine!<br>Edge doubly every patriot blow!<br>Beat down the banners of the foe!<br>And be it to the nations known,<br>That Victory is from God alone!'<br>As up the hill his path he drew,<br>He turn'd his blessings to renew,<br>Oft turn'd, till on the darken'd coast<br>All traces of their course were lost;<br>Then slowly bent to Brodick tower,<br>To shelter for the evening hour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIII.<br>In night the fairy prospects sink,<br>Where Cumray's isles with verdant link<br>Close the fair entrance of the Clyde;<br>The woods of Bute, no more descried,<br>Are gone - and on the placid sea<br>The rowers ply their task with glee,<br>Impatient aid the labouring oar.<br>The half-faced moon shone dim and pale,<br>And glanced against the whiten'd sail;<br>But on that ruddy beacon-light<br>Each steersman kept the helm aright,<br>And oft, for such the King's command,<br>That all at once might reach the strand,<br>From boat to boat loud shout and hail<br>Warn'd them to crowd or slacken sail.<br>South and by west the armada bore,<br>And near at length the Carrick shore.<br>As less and less the distance grows,<br>High and more high the beacon rose;<br>The light, that seem'd a twinkling star,<br>Now blazed portentous, fierce, and far.<br>Dark-red the heaven above it glow'd<br>Dark-red the sea beneath it flow'd,<br>Red rose the rocks on ocean's brim,<br>In blood-red light her islets swim;<br>Wild scream the dazzled sea-fowl gave,<br>Dropp'd from their crags on plashing wave.<br>The deer to distant covert drew,<br>The black-cock deem'd it day, and crew.<br>Like some tall castle given to flame,<br>O'er half the land the lustre came.<br>'Now, good my Liege, and brother sage,<br>What think ye of mine elfin page?'-<br>'Row on!' the noble King replied,<br>'We'll learn the truth whate'er betide;<br>Yet sure the beadsman and the child<br>Could ne'er have waked that beacon wild.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIV. <br>With that the boats approach'd the land,<br>But Edward's grounded on the sand;<br>The eager Knight leap'd in the sea<br>Waist-deep and first on shore was he,<br>Though every barge's hardy band<br>Contended which should gain the land,<br>When that strange light, which, seen afar,<br>Seem'd steady as the polar star,<br>Now, like a prophet's fiery chair,<br>Wide o'er the sky the splendour glows,<br>As that portentous meteor rose;<br>Helm, axe, and falchion glitter'd bright,<br>And in the red and dusk light<br>His comrade's face each warrior saw,<br>Nor marvell'd it was pale with awe.<br>Then high in air the beams were lost,<br>And darkness sunk upon the coast.-<br>Ronald to Heaven a prayer address'd,<br>And Douglas cross'd his dauntless breast;<br>'Saint James protect us!' Lennox cried,<br>But reckless Edward spoke aside,<br>'Deem'st thou, Kirkpatrick, in that flame<br>Red Comyn's angry spirit came,<br>Or would thy dauntless heart endure<br>Once more to make assurance sure?'-<br>'Hush!' said the Bruce; 'we soon shall know,<br>If this be sorcerer's empty show,<br>Or stratagem of southern foe.<br>The moon shines out - upon the sand<br>Let every leader rank his band.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XV.<br>Faintly the moon's pale beams supply <br>That ruddy light's unnatural dye;<br>The dubious cold reflection lay<br>On the wet sands and quiet bay.<br>Beneath the rocks King Robert drew<br>His scatter'd files to order due, <br>Till shield compact and serried spear<br>In the cool light shone blue and clear.<br>Then down a path that sought the tide,<br>That speechless page was seen to glide;<br>He knelt him lowly on the sand,<br>And gave a scroll to Robert's hand.<br>'A torch,' the Monarch cried, 'What, ho!<br>Now shall we Cuthbert's tidings know.'<br>But evil news the letters bear,<br>The Clifford's force was strong and ware,<br>Augmented, too, that very morn,<br>By mountaineers who came with Lorn.<br>Long harrow'd by oppressor's hand,<br>Courage and faith had fled the land,<br>And over Carrick, dark and deep,<br>Had sunk dejection's iron sleep.-<br>Cuthbert had seen that beacon flame,<br>Unwitting from what source it came.<br>Doubtful of perilous event,<br>Edward's mute messenger he sent,<br>If Bruce deceived should venture o'er,<br>To warn him from the fatal shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVI.<br>As round the torch the leaders crowd,<br>Bruce read these chilling news aloud.<br>'What counsel, nobles, have we now?-<br>To ambush us in greenwood bough,<br>And take the chance which fate may send<br>To bring our enterprise to end?<br>Or shall we turn us to the main<br>As exiles, and embark again?'-<br>Answer'd fierce Edward, 'Hap what may;<br>In Carrick, Carrick's Lord must stay.<br>I would not minstrels told the tale,<br>Wildfire or meteor made us quail.'<br>Answer'd the Douglas - 'If my Liege<br>May win yon walls by storm or siege,<br>Then were each brave and patriot heart<br>Kindled of new for loyal part.'-<br>Answer'd Lord Ronald, 'Not for shame<br>Would I that aged Torquil came,<br>And found, for all our empty boast,<br>Without a blow we fled the coast.<br>I will not credit that this land,<br>So famed for warlike heart and hand,<br>The nurse of Wallace and of Bruce,<br>Will long with tyrants hold a truce.'-<br>'Prove we our fate - the brunt we'll bide!'<br>So Boyd and Haye and Lennox cried;<br>So said, so vow'd, the leaders all;<br>So Bruce resolved: 'And in my hall<br>Since the Bold Southern make their home,<br>The hour of payment soon shall come,<br>When with a rough and rugged host<br>Clifford may reckon to his cost.<br>Meantime, through well-known bosk and dell,<br>I'll lead where we may shelter well.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVII.<br>Now ask you whence that wondrous light,<br>Whose fairy glow beguil'd their sight?-<br>It ne'er was known - yet grey-hair'd eld<br>A superstitious credence held,<br>That never did a mortal hand<br>Wake its broad glare on Carrick strand;<br>Nay, and that on the self-same night<br>When Bruce cross'd o'er, still gleams the light.<br>Yearly it gleams o'er mount and moor,<br>And glittering wave and crimson'd shore - <br>But whether beam celestial, lent<br>By Heaven to aid the King's descent,<br>Or fire hell-kindled from beneath,<br>To lure him to defeat and death,<br>Or were it but some meteor strange,<br>Of such as oft through midnight range,<br>Startling the traveller late and lone,<br>I know not - and it ne'er was known.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVIII.<br>Now up the rocky pass they drew,<br>And Ronald, to his promise true,<br>Still made his arm the stripling's stay,<br>To aid him on the rugged way.<br>'Now cheer thee, simple Amadine!<br>Why throbs that silly heart of thine?'-<br>-That name the pirates to their slave<br>(In Gaelic 'tis the Changeling) gave - <br>'Dost thou not rest thee on my arm?<br>Do not my plaid-folds hold thee warm?<br>Hath not the wild bull's treble hide<br>This targe for thee and me supplied?<br>Is not Clan-Colla's sword of steel?<br>And, trembler, canst thou terror feel?<br>Cheer thee, and still that throbbing heart;<br>From Ronald's guard thou shalt not part.'<br>-O! many a shaft, at random spoken,<br>May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!<br>Half sooth'd, half grieved, half terrified,<br>Close drew the page to Ronald's side;<br>A wild delirious thrill of joy<br>Was in that hour of agony,<br>As up the steepy path he strove,<br>Fear, toil, and sorrow, lost in love!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIX.<br>The barrier of that iron shore,<br>The rock's steep ledge, is now climb'd o'er;<br>And from the castle's distant wall,<br>From tower to tower the warders call;<br>The sound wings over land and sea,<br>And marks a watchful enemy.-<br>They gain'd the Chase, a wide domain<br>Left for the castle's silvan reign,<br>(Seek not the scene - the axe, the plough,<br>The boor's dull fence, have marr'd it now,)<br>But then, soft swept in velvet green<br>The plain with many a glade between,<br>Whose tangled alleys far invade<br>The depth of the brown forest shade.<br>Here the tall fern obscured the lawn,<br>Fair shelter for the sportive fawn;<br>There, tufted close with copsewood green,<br>Was many a swelling hillock seen;<br>And all around was verdure meet<br>For pressure of the fairies' feet.<br>The glossy holly loved the park,<br>The yew-tree lent its shadow dark,<br>And many an old oak, worn and bare,<br>With all its shiver'd boughs was there.<br>Lovely between, the moonbeams fell<br>On lawn and hillock, glade and dell.<br>The gallant Monarch sigh'd to see<br>These glades to loved in childhood free,<br>Bethinking that, as outlaw now, <br>He ranged beneath the forest bough.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XX.<br>Fast o'er the moonlight Chase they sped.<br>Well knew the band that measured tread,<br>When, in retreat or in advance,<br>The serried warriors move at once;<br>And evil were the luck, if dawn<br>Descried them on the open lawn.<br>Copses they traverse, brooks they cross,<br>Strain up the bank and o'er the moss. <br>From the exhausted page's brow<br>Cold drops of toil are streaming now;<br>With effort faint and lengthen'd pause,<br>His wearied step the stripling draws.<br>'Nay, droop not yet!' the warrior said;<br>'Come, let me give thee ease and aid!<br>Strong are mine arms, and little care<br>A weight so slight as thine to bear.-<br>What! wilt thou not? - capricious boy!-<br>Pass but this night, and pass thy care,<br>I'll place thee with a lady fair,<br>Where thou shalt tune thy lute to tell<br>How Ronald loves fair Isabel!'<br>Worn out, dishearten'd, and dismay'd,<br>Here Amadine let go the plaid.<br>His trembling limbs their aid refuse,<br>He sunk among the midnight dews!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXI.<br>What may be done? - the night is gone -<br>The Bruce's band moves swiftly on -<br>Eternal shame, if at the brunt<br>Lord Ronald grace not battle's front!-<br>'See yonder oak, within whose trunk<br>Decay a darken'd cell hath sunk;<br>Enter, and rest thee there a space,<br>Wrap in my plaid thy limbs, thy face.<br>I will not be, believe me, far;<br>But must not quit the ranks of war.<br>Well will I mark the bosky bourne,<br>And soon, to guard thee hence, return.-<br>Nay, weep not so, thou simple boy!<br>But sleep in peace, and wake in joy.'<br>In silvan lodging close bestow'd,<br>He placed the page, and onward strode<br>With strength put forth, o'er moss and brook,<br>And soon the marching band o'ertook.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXII.<br>Thus strangely left, long sobb'd and wept<br>The page, till, wearied out, he slept -<br>A rough voice waked his dream - 'Nay, here,<br>Here by this thicket pass'd the deer-<br>Beneath that oak old Ryno staid -<br>What have we here? - A Scottish plaid,<br>And in its folds a stripling laid?-<br>Come forth! thy name and business tell!<br>What, silent? - then I guess thee well,<br>The spy that sought old Cuthbert's cell,<br>Wafted from Arran yester morn -<br>Come, comrades, we will straight return.<br>Our Lord may choose the rack should teach<br>To this young lurcher use of speech.<br>Thy bow-string, till I bind him fast.'-<br>'Nay, but he weeps and stands aghast;<br>Unbound we'll lead him, fear it not;<br>'Tis a fair stripling, though a Scot.'<br>The hunters to the castle sped,<br>And there the hapless captive led.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIII.<br>Stout Clifford in the castle-court<br>Prepared him for the morning sport;<br>And now with Lorn held deep discourse,<br>Now gave command for hound and horse.<br>War-steeds and palfreys paw'd the ground,<br>And many a deer-dog how'd around.<br>To Amadine, Lorn's well-known word<br>Replying to that Southern Lord,<br>Mix'd with this clanging din, might seem<br>The phantasm of a fever'd dream.<br>The tone upon his ringing ears<br>Came like the sounds which fancy hears,<br>Some words of woe the muser finds,<br>Until more loudly and more near,<br>Their speech arrests the page's ear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIV.<br>'And was she thus,' said Clifford, 'lost?<br>The priest should rue it to his cost!<br>What says the monk?' - 'The holy Sire <br>Owns, that in masquer's quaint attire,<br>She sought his skiff, disguised, unknown<br>To all except to him alone.<br>But, says the priest, a bark from Lorn<br>Laid them aboard that very morn,<br>And pirates seized for her their prey.<br>He proffer'd ransom gold to pay,<br>And they agreed - but ere told o'er,<br>The winds blow loud, the billows roar;<br>They sever'd, and they met no more.<br>He deems - such tempests vex'd the coast -<br>Ship, crew, and fugitive, were lost.<br>So let it be, with the disgrace<br>And scandal of her lofty race!<br>Thrice better she had ne'er been born,<br>Than brought her infamy on Lorn!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXV.<br>Lord Clifford now the captive spied;-<br>'Whom, Herbert, hast thou there?' he cried.<br>'A spy we seized within the Chase,<br>A hollow oak his lurking place.'-<br>'What tidings can the youth afford?'-<br>'He plays the mute.' - 'Then noose a cord -<br>Unless brave Lorn reverse the doom<br>For his plaid's sake.' - 'Clan-Colla's loom,'<br>Said Lorn, whose careless glances trace<br>Rather the vesture than the face,<br>'Clan-Colla's dames such tartans twine;<br>Wearer nor plaid claims care of mine.<br>Give him, if my advice you crave,<br>His own scathed oak; and let him wave<br>In air, unless, by terror wrung,<br>A frank confession find his tongue.-<br>Nor shall he die without his rite;<br>-Thou, Angus Roy, attend the sight,<br>And give Clan-Colla'd dirge thy breath,<br>As they convey him to his death.'-<br>'O brother! cruel to the last!'<br>Through the poor captive's bosom pass'd<br>The thought, but, to his purpose true,<br>He said not, though he sigh'd, 'Adieu!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVI.<br>And will he keep his purpose still,<br>In sight of that last closing ill,<br>When one poor breath, one single word,<br>May freedom, safety, life, afford?<br>Can he resist the instinctive call,<br>For life that bids us barter all?-<br>Love, strong as death, his heart hath steel'd,<br>His nerves hath strung - he will not yield!<br>Since that poor breath, that little word,<br>May yield Lord Ronald to the sword.-<br>Clan-Colla's dirge is pealing wide,<br>The grisly headsman's by his side;<br>Along the greenwood Chase they bend,<br>And now their march has ghastly end!<br>That old and shatter'd oak beneath,<br>They destine for the place of death.<br>-What thoughts are his, while all in vain<br>His eye for aid explores the plain?<br>What thoughts, while, with dizzy ear,<br>He hears the death-prayer mutter'd near?<br>And must he die such death accurst,<br>Or will that bosom-secret burst?<br>Cold on his brow breaks terror's dew,<br>His trembling lips are livid blue;<br>The agony of parting life<br>Has nought to match that moment's strife!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVII.<br>But other witnesses are nigh,<br>Who mock at fear, and death defy!<br>Soon as the dire lament was play'd,<br>It waked the lurking ambuscade.<br>The Island Lord look'd forth, and spied<br>The cause, and loud in fury cried,-<br>'By Heaven, they lead the page to die,<br>And mock me in his agony!<br>They shall abye it!' - On his arm<br>Bruce laid strong grasp, 'They shall not harm<br>A ringlet of the stripling's hair; <br>But, till I give the word, forbear.<br>-Douglas lead fifty of our force<br>Up yonder hollow water-course,<br>And couch thee midway on the wold,<br>Between the flyers and their hold:<br>A spear above the copse display'd,<br>Be signal of the ambush made.<br>-Edward, with forty spearmen, straight<br>Through yonder copse approach the gate,<br>And, when thou hear'st the battle-din,<br>Rush forward, and the passage win,<br>Secure the drawbridge - storm the port,<br>And man and guard the castle-court.-<br>The rest move slowly forth with me,<br>In shelter of the forest-tree,<br>Till Douglas at his post I see.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVIII.<br>Like war-horse eager to rush on,<br>Compell'd to wait the signal blown,<br>Hid, and scarce hid, by greenwood bough,<br>Trembling with rage, stands Ronald now,<br>And in his grasp his sword gleams blue<br>Soon to be dyed with deadlier hue.-<br>Meanwhile the Bruce, with steady eye,<br>Sees the dark death-train moving by,<br>And heedful measures oft the space<br>The Douglas and his band must trace,<br>Ere they can reach their destined ground.<br>Now sinks the dirge's wailing sound,<br>Now cluster round the direful tree<br>That slow and solemn company,<br>While hymn mistuned and mutter'd prayer<br>The victim for his fate prepare.-<br>What glances o'er the greenwood shade?<br>The spear that marks the ambuscade!-<br>'Now, noble Chief! I leave thee loose;<br>Upon them, Ronald!' said the Bruce.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIX.<br>'The Bruce! the Bruce!' to well-known cry<br>His native rocks and woods reply.<br>'The Bruce! the Bruce!' in that dread word<br>The knell of hundred deaths was heard.<br>The astonish'd Southern gazed at first<br>Where the wild tempest was to burst,<br>That waked in that presaging name,<br>Before, behind, around it came!<br>Half-arm'd, surprised, on every side<br>Hemm'd in, hew'd down, they bled and died,<br>Deep in the ring the Bruce engaged,<br>And fierce Clan-Colla's broadsword raged!<br>Full soon the few who fought were sped,<br>Nor better was their lot who fled,<br>And met, 'mid terror's wild career,<br>The Douglas's redoubted spear!<br>Two hundred yeoman on that morn<br>The castle left, and none return.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXX.<br>Not on their flight press'd Ronald's brand,<br>A gentler duty claim'd his hand.<br>He raised the page, where the plain<br>His fear had sunk him with the slain:<br>And twice, that morn, surprise well near<br>Betray'd the secret kept by fear;<br>Once, when, with life returning, came<br>To the boy's lip Lord Ronald's name,<br>And hardly recollection drown'd<br>The accents in a murmuring sound;<br>And once, when scarce he could resist<br>The Chieftain's care to loose the vest,<br>Drawn tightly o'er his labouring breast.<br>But then the Bruce's bugle blew,<br>For martial work was yet to do.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXI.<br>A harder task fierce Edward waits.<br>Ere signal given, the castle gates<br>His fury had assail'd;<br>Such was his wonted reckless mood,<br>Yet desperate valour oft made good,<br>Even by its daring, venture rude,<br>Where prudence might have fail'd.<br>Upon the bridge his strength he threw,<br>And struck the iron chain in two,<br>By which its planks arose;<br>The warder next his axe's edge<br>Struck down upon the threshold ledge,<br>'Twixt door and post and ghastly wedge!<br>The gate they may not close.<br>Well fought the Southern in the fray,<br>Clifford and Lorn fought well that day,<br>But stubborn Edward forced his way<br>Against a hundred foes.<br>Loud came the cry, 'The Bruce, the Bruce!'<br>No hope or in defence or truce,-<br>Fresh combatants pour in;<br>Mad with success, and drunk with gore,<br>They drive the struggling foe before,<br>And ward on ward they win.<br>Unsparing was the vengeful sword,<br>And limbs were lopp'd, and life-blood pour'd,<br>The cry of death and conflict roar'd,<br>And fearful was the din!<br>The startling horses plunged and flung,<br>Clamour'd the dogs till turrets rung,<br>Nor sunk the fearful cry,<br>Till not a foeman was there found<br>Alive, save those who on the ground<br>Groan'd in their agony!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXII.<br>The valiant Clifford is no more;<br>On Ronald's broadsword stream's his gore.<br>But better hap had he of Lorn,<br>Who, by the foeman backward borne,<br>Yet gain'd with slender train the port,<br>Where lay his bark beneath the fort,<br>And cut the cable loose.<br>Short were his shrift in that debate,<br>That hour of fury and of fate,<br>If Lorn encounter'd Bruce!<br>Then long and loud the victor shout<br>From turret and from tower rung out,<br>The rugged vaults replied;<br>And from the donjon tower on high,<br>The men of Carrick may descry<br>Saint Andrew's cross, in blazonry<br>Of silver, waving wide!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIII.<br>The Bruce hath won his father's hall!<br>-'Welcome, brave friends and comrades all,<br>Welcome to mirth and joy!<br>The first, the last, is welcome here,<br>From lord and chieftain, prince and peer,<br>To this poor speechless boy.<br>Great God! once more my sire's abode<br>Is mine - behold the floor I trode<br>In tottering infancy!<br>And there the vaulted arch, whose sound<br>Echoed my joyous shout and bound<br>In boyhood, and that rung around<br>To youth's unthinking glee!<br>O first, to thee, all-gracious Heaven,<br>Then to my friends, my thanks be given!'-<br>He paused a space, his brow he cross'd-<br>Then on the board his sword he toss'd,<br>Yet steaming hot; with Southern gore<br>From hilt to point 'twas crimson'd o'er.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIV.<br>'Bring here,' he said, 'the mazers four,<br>My noble fathers loved of yore.<br>Thrice let them circle round the board,<br>The pledge, fair Scotland's rights restor'd!<br>And he whose lip shall touch the wine,<br>Without a vow as true as mine,<br>To hold both lands and life at nought,<br>Until her freedom shall be bought,-<br>Be brand of a disloyal Scot,<br>And lasting infamy his lot!<br>Sit, gentle friends! our hour of glee<br>Is brief, we'll spend it joyously!<br>Blithest of all the sun's bright beams,<br>When betwixt storm and storm he gleams.<br>Well is our country's work begun,<br>But more, far more, must yet be done.<br>Speed messengers the country through;<br>Arouse old friends, and gather new;<br>Warn Lanark's knights to gird their mail,<br>Rouse the brave sons of Teviotdale,<br>Let Ettrick's archers sharp their darts,<br>The fairest forms, the truest hearts! <br>Call all, call all! from Reedswair-Path,<br>To the wild confines of Cape-Wrath;<br>Wide let the news through Scotland ring,-<br>The Northern Eagle claps his wing!'</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=519710" data-title="The Lord of the Isles: Canto V. de Sir Walter Scott" data-description="I. On fair Loch-Ranza stream'd the early day, Thin wreaths of cottage-smoke are upward curl'd From the lone hamlet, which her inland bay And circling mountains sever from the world. And there the fisherman his sail unfurl'd, The goat-herd drove h..."></div> </div> </div>

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