anew of the fight; and the minstrel, in spirited verse, sings of the battle of Beal’ an Duine, whose issue was left doubtful by the arrival of a messenger from the King with orders to stay the fight. But before he had finished his song the stern spirit had fled, and the minstrel’s harp changes its tune from battle song to death dirge.
“Meanwhile Ellen waits anxiously and impatiently for her audience with the King. At last Fitz-James appears to escort her to the audience chamber. Faltering, she looks round to find the King, and sees, to her surprise, that her companion alone remains covered, and ‘Snowdoun’s Knight is Scotland’s King.’ He tells her how the feud with Douglas is at an end, and that her father is now to be ‘the friend and bulwark of his throne.’ But she still has the ring, still some boon to ask. She begs for Roderick’s life, but that is past giving; and when she shrinks from further request, the King calls forth Malcolm, and throws over him a golden chain, which he gives to Ellen to keep.” —R. W. Taylor.
CANTO FIRST
THE CHASE
Harp of the North!1 that moldering long hast hung
On the witch-elm2 that shades St. Fillan’s3 spring,
And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung,
Till envious ivy did around thee cling,
Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, —
O minstrel Harp! still must thine accents sleep?
Mid rustling leaves and fountain’s murmuring,
Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep,
Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep?
Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon,4
Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd,
When lay of hopeless love, or glory won,
Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud.
At each according pause, was heard aloud
Thine ardent symphony sublime and high!
Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bow’d;
For still the burden of thy minstrelsy
Was Knighthood’s dauntless deed, and Beauty’s matchless eye.
Oh, wake once more! how rude soe’er the hand
That ventures o’er thy magic maze to stray;
Oh, wake once more! though scarce my skill command
Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay:
Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away,
And all unworthy of thy nobler strain,
Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway,
The wizard note has not been touch’d in vain.
Then silent be no more! Enchantress, wake again!
The stag at eve had drunk his fill,
Where danced the moon on Monan’s5 rill,
And deep his midnight lair had made
In lone Glenartney’s hazel shade;
But, when the sun his beacon red
Had kindled on Benvoirlich’s head,
The deep-mouth’d bloodhound’s heavy bay
Resounded up the rocky way,
And faint, from farther distance borne,
Were heard the clanging hoof and horn.
As Chief, who hears his warder7 call,
“To arms! the foemen storm the wall,”
The antler’d monarch of the waste
Sprung from his heathery8 couch in haste.
But, ere his fleet career he took,
The dewdrops from his flanks he shook;
Like crested leader proud and high,
Toss’d his beam’d9 frontlet to the sky;
A moment gazed adown the dale,
A moment snuff’d the tainted gale,10
A moment listen’d to the cry,
That thicken’d as the chase drew nigh;
Then, as the headmost foes appear’d,
With one brave bound the copse he clear’d,
And, stretching forward free and far,
Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.
Yell’d on the view the opening12 pack;
Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back;
To many a mingled sound at once
The awaken’d mountain gave response.
A hundred dogs bay’d deep and strong,
Clatter’d a hundred steeds along,
Their peal the merry horns rung out,
A hundred voices join’d the shout;
With hark and whoop and wild halloo,
No rest Benvoirlich’s echoes knew.
Far from the tumult fled the roe,
Close in her covert cower’d the doe,
The falcon, from her cairn on high,
Cast on the rout13 a wondering eye,
Till far beyond her piercing ken14
The hurricane had swept the glen.
Faint, and more faint, its failing din
Return’d from cavern, cliff, and linn,15
And silence settled, wide and still,
On the lone wood and mighty hill.
Less loud the sounds of silvan war
Disturb’d the heights of Uam-Var,
And roused the cavern, where, ’tis told,
A giant made his den of old;
For ere that steep ascent was won,
High in his pathway hung the sun,
And many a gallant, stay’d perforce,
Was fain to breathe his faltering horse,
And of the trackers of the deer,
Scarce half the lessening pack was near;
So shrewdly16 on the mountain side
Had the bold burst their mettle tried.
The noble stag was pausing now
Upon the mountain’s southern brow,
Where broad extended, far beneath,
The varied realms of fair Menteith.17
With
The poet invokes the spirit that animated the ancient Scottish minstrels, whose songs were usually accompanied by the music of the harp.
Called also the “wizard elm,” because forked twigs from the tree were used as divining rods.
A Scotch abbot of the seventh century.
The Romans gave the name Caledonia to that part of Scotland north of the Clyde and Forth.
St. Monan was a Scotch monk of the fourth century. The rill cannot be identified.
For the meaning of technical terms, colloquialisms, and unusual words not to be found in a school dictionary, see
The heath or heather is a small ever-green shrub very common in the Scottish Highlands.
The head of a stag is said to be beamed after its fourth-year horns appear.
“Tainted gale,” i.e., the wind scented with the odor of the pursuers.
A pack of hounds is said to "open" when the dogs begin to bark, upon recovering the scent or catching sight of the game.
A confused or boisterous gathering.
Sight.
A deep pool.
Severely.
Or Monteith, a picturesque district of Scotland watered by the river Teith.
