Part 14 (1/2)

Then, in a low and broken tone, And hurried note, the song went on. 585 Still on the Clansman, fearfully, She fixed her apprehensive eye; Then turned it on the Knight, and then Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen.

XXV

”The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set, 590 Ever sing merrily, merrily; The bows they bend, and the knives they whet, Hunters live so cheerily.

”It was a stag, a stag of ten, Bearing its branches st.u.r.dily; 595 He came stately down the glen, Ever sing hardily, hardily.

”It was there he met with a wounded doe, She was bleeding deathfully; She warned him of the toils below, 600 Oh, so faithfully, faithfully!

”He had an eye, and he could heed, Ever sing warily, warily; He had a foot, and he could speed-- Hunters watch so narrowly.” 605

XXVI

Fitz-James's mind was pa.s.sion-tossed, When Ellen's hints and fears were lost; But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, And Blanche's song conviction brought.

Not like a stag that spies the snare, 610 But lion of the hunt aware, He waved at once his blade on high, ”Disclose thy treachery, or die!”

Forth at full speed the Clansman flew, But in his race his bow he drew. 615 The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest, And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast.

Murdoch of Alpine! prove thy speed, For ne'er had Alpine's son such need!

With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 620 The fierce avenger is behind!

Fate judges of the rapid strife-- The forfeit death--the prize is life!

Thy kindred ambush lies before, Close couched upon the heathery moor; 625 Them couldst thou reach!--it may not be-- Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see, The fiery Saxon gains on thee!

Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, As lightning strikes the pine to dust; 630 With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain, Ere he can win his blade again.

Bent o'er the fallen, with falcon eye, He grimly smiled to see him die; Then slower wended back his way, 635 Where the poor maiden bleeding lay.

XXVII

She sat beneath a birchen-tree, Her elbow resting on her knee; She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, And gazed on it, and feebly laughed; 640 Her wreath of broom and feathers gray, Daggled with blood, beside her lay.

The Knight to staunch the life-stream tried-- ”Stranger, it is in vain!” she cried.

”This hour of death has given me more 645 Of reason's power than years before; For, as these ebbing veins decay, My frenzied visions fade away.

A helpless injured wretch I die, And something tells me in thine eye, 650 That thou wert mine avenger born.

Seest thou this tress?--Oh! still I've worn This little tress of yellow hair, Through danger, frenzy, and despair!

It once was bright and clear as thine, 655 But blood and tears have dimmed its s.h.i.+ne.

I will not tell thee when 'twas shred, Nor from what guiltless victim's head-- My brain would turn!--but it shall wave Like plumage on thy helmet brave, 660 Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, And thou wilt bring it me again.

I waver still--O G.o.d! more bright Let reason beam her parting light!-- Oh! by thy knighthood's honored sign, 665 And for thy life preserved by mine, When thou shalt see a darksome man, Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan, With tartans broad and shadowy plume And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, 670 Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong!-- They watch for thee by pa.s.s and fell....

Avoid the path.... O G.o.d!... farewell.”

XXVIII

A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James; 675 Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims, And now, with mingled grief and ire, He saw the murdered maid expire.

”G.o.d, in my need, be my relief, As I wreak this on yonder Chief!” 680 A lock from Blanche's tresses fair He blended with her bridegroom's hair; The mingled braid in blood he dyed.

And placed it on his bonnet-side: ”By Him whose word is truth! I swear 685 No other favor will I wear, Till this sad token I imbrue In the best blood of Roderick Dhu!

--But hark! what means yon faint halloo?

The chase is up--but they shall know, 690 The stag at bay's a dangerous foe.”

Barred from the known but guarded way, Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray, And oft must change his desperate track, By stream and precipice turned back. 695 Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length, From lack of food and loss of strength, He couched him in a thicket h.o.a.r, And thought his toils and perils o'er: ”Of all my rash adventures past, 700 This frantic feat must prove the last!