Each boatman, bending to his oar,
With measured sweep the burden bore,13
In such wild cadence as the breeze
Makes through December's leafless trees.
The chorus first could Allan know,
"Roderigh Vich Alpine, ho! iro!"
And near and nearer as they rowed,
Distinct the martial ditty flowed.
Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances !14
Honoured and blessed be the ever-green Pine!
Long may the Tree, in his banner that glances,
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! 15
Heaven send it happy dew,
Earth lend it sap anew,
Gaily to bourgeon, and broadly to grow ;16
While every Highland glen
Sends our shout back agen,17
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"18
Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,
Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; 19
When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the
mountain,
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade.
Moored in the rifted rock,
Proof to the tempest's shock,
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; 20
Menteith and Breadalbane, then,21
Echo his praise agen, 22
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"
Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands !
Stretch to your oars for the ever-green Pine!
O that the rose-bud that graces yon islands
Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine!
O that some seedling gem,
Honoured and blessed in their shadow might grow!
Loud should Clan-Alpine then
Ring from her deepmost glen,
Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"
With all her joyful female band,
Had Lady Margaret sought the strand.
Loose on the breeze their tresses flew,
And high their snowy arms they threw,
Some feelings are to mortals given
With less of earth in them than heaven;
And if there be a human tear
From passion's dross refined and clear,
A tear so limpid and so meek,
It would not stain an angel's cheek,
'Tis that which pious fathers shed
Upon a duteous daughter's head!
And as the Douglas to his breast 2
His darling Ellen closely pressed,
Such holy drops her tresses steeped,
Though 'twas an hero's eye that weeped.
Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue
Her filial welcomes crowded hung,
Marked she, that fear (affection's proof),
Still held a graceful youth aloof;
No! not till Douglas named his name,
Although the youth was Malcolm Græme.-
Now back they wend their watery way,
And, "O my sire!" did Ellen say,
And with that gallant pastime reft 26
Were all of Douglas I have left.
I met young Malcolm as I strayed,
Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade
Nor strayed I safe; for, all around,
Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground.
This youth, though still a royal ward,
Risked life and land to be my guard,
And through the passes of the wood
Guided my steps, not unpursued;
And Roderick shall his welcome make,
Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake.
Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen,2
Nor peril aught for me agen.”—
Sir Roderick, who to meet them came,
Reddened at sight of Malcolm Græme;
Yet not in action, word, or eye,
Failed aught in hospitality.2
In talk and sport they whiled away
The morning of that summer day;
But at high noon a courier light
Held secret parley with the knight,
Whose moody aspect soon declared
That evil were the news he heard.
Deep thought seemed toiling in his head;
Yet was the evening banquet made,
Ere he assembled round the flame,
His mother, Douglas, and the Græme,
And Ellen, too; then cast around 30
His eyes, then fixed them on the ground,
As studying phrase that might avail 31
Best to convey unpleasant tale.
[The substance of his intelligence is, that King James, having subdued the lawless Border clans, is now preparing to attack the Highland chiefs; and that the stately form of Douglas had been recognized in Glenfinlas. He asks the Douglas for advice.]
Then sorrowful, but undismayed,
The Douglas thus his counsel said:
"Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar,
It may but thunder and pass o'er:
Nor will I here remain an hour,
To draw the lightning on thy bower;
For well thou know'st, at this grey head
The royal bolt were fiercest sped.
For thee, who, at thy King's command,
Canst aid him with a gallant band,
Submission, homage, humbled pride,
Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside.
Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart,32
Ellen and I will seek, apart,
The refuge of some forest cell;
There, like the hunted quarry, dwell,
Till on the mountain and the moor
The stern pursuit be passed and o'er."
No, by mine honour," Roderick said,
"So help me Heaven, and my good blade !33
No, never! Blasted be yon Pine,
My fathers' ancient crest, and mine,
If from its shade in danger part
The lineage of the Bleeding Heart!
Hear my blunt speech: Grant me this maid
To wife, thy counsel to mine aid; 34
To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu,
Will friends and allies flock enow;35
Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief,
Will bind to us each Western Chief.
When the loud pipes my bridal tell,
The Links of Forth shall hear the knell,30
The guards shall start in Stirling's porch;
And, when I light the nuptial torch,
A thousand villages in flames
Shall scare the slumbers of King James !—
Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away;
And, mother, cease these signs, I pray;
I meant not all my heat might say.-
Small need of inroad, or of fight,
When the sage Douglas may unite
Each mountain clan in friendly band,
To guard the passes of their land,
Till the foiled King from pathless glen
Shall bootless turn him home agen.'
There are who have, at midnight hour,37
In slumber scaled a dizzy tower,
And, on the verge that beetled o'er 38
The ocean-tide's incessant roar,
Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream,
Till wakened by the morning beam;
When, dazzled by the eastern glow,
Such startler cast his glance below,
Did he not desperate impulse feel,
Headlong to plunge himself below,
And meet the worst his fears foreshow?
Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound,39
As sudden ruin yawned around,
"Roderick, enough! enough!" he cried;
My daughter cannot be thy bride ;—
Not that the blush to wooer dear,40
Nor paleness that of maiden fear.
It may not be forgive her, Chief,
Nor hazard aught for our relief.
Against his sovereign Douglas neʼer
Will level a rebellious spear.
'Twas I that taught his youthful hand
To rein a steed and wield a brand;
I see him yet, the princely boy!
Not Ellen more my pride and joy ;41
I love him still, despite my wrongs,
By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues.42
O seek the grace you well may find,
Without a cause to mine combined."
[A quarrel, the result of jealousy, arises between Roderick and Malcolm. They struggle, and are separated by Douglas. The Chieftain orders Græme to quit the island. The latter, disdaining to use his enemy's boat, plunges into the lake, and swims to the shore.]
CANTO THIRD.—THE GATHERING.
NEXT morning Roderick sends forth the Fiery Cross to summon his followers to Lanrick mead, by the margin of Loch Vennachar. Malise, Roderick's henchman, flies with the fatal symbol along the side of Loch Achray. When he reaches Duncraggan's huts he hears the coronach, or funeral-song, of the aged Chieftain. Nevertheless, his stripling son, young Angus, is bound to belt on his father's sword and speed him forth with the Fiery Cross. When he reaches Strath-Ire a bridal party is issuing from the Chapel of St. Bride. He puts the signal into the hand of the bridegroom, Norman, heir of Armandave; who tears himself from the arms of his new-made bride, and glances off "like fire from flint." So the Cross of Fire is passed from hand to hand, and from valley to valley, till all Clan-Alpine's followers are summoned.
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