Part 9 (1/2)
XIII
Speed, Malise, speed! the dun deer's hide 300 On fleeter foot was never tied.
Speed, Malise, speed! such cause of haste Thine active sinews never braced.
Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, Burst down like torrent from its crest; 305 With short and springing footstep pa.s.s The trembling bog and false mora.s.s; Across the brook like roebuck bound, And thread the brake like questing hound; The crag is high, the scar is deep, 310 Yet shrink not from the desperate leap: Parched are thy burning lips and brow.
Yet by the fountain pause not now; Herald of battle, fate, and fear, Stretch onward in thy fleet career! 315 The wounded hind thou track'st not now, Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough, Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace, With rivals in the mountain race; But danger, death, and warrior deed, 320 Are in thy course--speed, Malise, speed!
XIV
Fast as the fatal symbol flies, In arms the huts and hamlets rise; From winding glen, from upland brown, They poured each hardy tenant down. 325 Nor slacked the messenger his pace; He showed the sign, he named the place, And, pressing forward like the wind, Left clamor and surprise behind.
The fisherman forsook the strand, 330 The swarthy smith took dirk and brand; With changed cheer, the mower blithe Left in the half-cut swathe the scythe; The herds without a keeper strayed, The plow was in mid-furrow stayed, 335 The falc'ner tossed his hawk away, The hunter left the stag at bay; Prompt at the signal of alarms, Each son of Alpine rushed to arms; So swept the tumult and affray 340 Along the margin of Achray.
Alas, thou lovely lake! that e'er Thy banks should echo sounds of fear!
The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep So stilly on thy bosom deep, 345 The lark's blithe carol, from the cloud Seems for the scene too gaily loud.
XV
Speed, Malise, speed! the lake is past, Duncraggan's huts appear at last, And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 350 Half hidden in the copse so green; There mayst thou rest, thy labor done, Their Lord shall speed the signal on.
As stoops the hawk upon his prey, The henchman shot him down the way. 355 --What woeful accents load the gale?
The funeral yell, the female wail!
A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, A valiant warrior fights no more.
Who, in the battle or the chase, 360 At Roderick's side shall fill his place!-- Within the hall, where torches' ray Supplies the excluded beams of day, Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, And o'er him streams his widow's tear. 365 His stripling son stands mournful by, His youngest weeps, but knows not why; The village maids and matrons round The dismal coronach resound.
XVI
CORONACH
He is gone on the mountain, 370 He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest.
The font, reappearing, From the raindrops shall borrow, 375 But to us comes no cheering, To Duncan no morrow!
The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are h.o.a.ry, But the voice of the weeper 380 Wails manhood in glory.
The autumn winds rus.h.i.+ng Waft the leaves that are searest, But our flower was in flus.h.i.+ng, When blighting was nearest. 385
Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in c.u.mber, Red hand in the foray, How sound is thy slumber!
Like dew on the mountain, 390 Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain Thou art gone, and forever!
XVII
See Stumah, who, the bier beside, His master's corpse with wonder eyed-- 395 Poor Stumah! whom his least halloo Could send like lightning o'er the dew, Bristles his crest, and points his ears, As if some stranger step he hears.
'Tis not a mourner's m.u.f.fled tread, 400 Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, But headlong haste, or deadly fear, Urge the precipitate career.
All stand aghast--unheeding all, The henchman bursts into the hall; 405 Before the dead man's bier he stood; Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood: ”The muster-place is Lanrick mead; Speed forth the signal! clansmen, speed!”
XVIII
Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, 410 Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign.
In haste the stripling to his side His father's dirk and broadsword tied; But when he saw his mother's eye Watch him in speechless agony, 415 Back to her opened arms he flew, Pressed on her lips a fond adieu-- ”Alas!” she sobbed--”and yet be gone, And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son!”
One look he cast upon the bier, 420 Dashed from his eye the gathering tear, Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast, And tossed aloft his bonnet crest, Then, like the high-bred colt, when, freed, First he essays his fire and speed, 425 He vanished, and o'er moor and moss Sped forward with the Fiery Cross.
Suspended was the widow's tear, While yet his footsteps she could hear; And when she marked the henchman's eye 430 Wet with unwonted sympathy, ”Kinsman,” she said, ”his race is run, That should have sped thine errand on; The oak has fallen--the sapling bough Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. 435 Yet trust I well, his duty done, The orphan's G.o.d will guard my son.