第195章 XXIX.(1)

Full well the conscious maiden guessed He probed the weakness of her breast;But with that consciousness there came A lightening of her fears for Graeme, And more she deemed the Monarch's ire Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire Rebellious broadsword boldly drew;And, to her generous feeling true, She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu.

'Forbear thy suit;--the King of kings Alone can stay life's parting wings.

I know his heart, I know his hand, Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand;My fairest earldom would I give To bid Clan- Alpine's Chieftain live!--Hast thou no other boon to crave?

No other captive friend to save?'

Blushing, she turned her from the King, And to the Douglas gave the ring, As if she wished her sire to speak The suit that stained her glowing cheek.

'Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, And stubborn justice holds her course.

Malcolm, come forth! '--and, at the word, Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's Lord.

'For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, From thee may Vengeance claim her dues, Who, nurtured underneath our smile, Hast paid our care by treacherous wile, And sought amid thy faithful clan A refuge for an outlawed man, Dishonoring thus thy loyal name.--Fetters and warder for the Graeme!'

His chain of gold the King unstrung, The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, Then gently drew the glittering band, And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand.

Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark, On purple peaks a deeper shade descending;In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending.

Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending, And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy;Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending, With distant echo from the fold and lea, And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee.

Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp!

Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, And little reck I of the censure sharp May idly cavil at an idle lay.

Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, Through secret woes the world has never known, When on the weary night dawned wearier day, And bitterer was the grief devoured alone.--That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is shine own.

Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string!

'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing.

Receding now, the dying numbers ring Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell;And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring A wandering witch-note of the distant spell--And now, 'tis silent all!--Enchantress, fare thee well!

Abbreviations Used In The Notes.

Cf. (confer), compare.

F.Q., Spenser's Faerie Queene.

Fol., following.

Id. (idem), the same.

Lockhart, J. G. Lockhart's edition of Scott's poems (various issues).

P.L., Milton's Paradise Lost.

Taylor, R. W. Taylor's edition of The Lady of the Lake (London, 1875).

Wb., Webster's Dictionary (revised quarto edition of 1879).

Worc., Worcester's Dictionary (quarto edition).

The abbreviations of the names of Shakespeare's plays will be readily understood. The line-numbers are those of the "Globe"edition.

The references to Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel are to canto and line; those to Marmion and other poems to canto and stanza.

NOTES.

Introduction.

The Lady of the Lake was first published in 1810, when Scott was thirty-nine, and it was dedicated to "the most noble John James, Marquis of Abercorn." Eight thousand copies were sold between June 2d and September 22d, 1810, and repeated editions were subsequently called for. In 1830, the following "Introduction"was prefixed to the poem by the author:--

After the success of Marmion, I felt inclined to exclaim with Ulysses in the Odyssey:

Odys. X. 5.

"One venturous game my hand has won to-day--

Another, gallants, yet remains to play."

The ancient manners, the habits and customs of the aboriginal race by whom the Highlands of Scotland were inhabited, had always appeared to me peculiarly adapted to poetry. The change in their manners, too, had taken place almost within my own time, or at least I had learned many particulars concerning the ancient state of the Highlands from the old men of the last generation. I had always thought the old Scottish Gael highly adapted for poetical composition. The feuds and political dissensions which, half a century earlier, would have rendered the richer and wealthier part of the kingdom indisposed to countenance a poem, the scene of which was laid in the Highlands, were now sunk in the generous compassion which the English, more than any other nation, feel for the misfortunes of an honourable foe. The Poems of Ossian had by their popularity sufficiently shown that, if writings on Highland subjects were qualified to interest the reader, mere national prejudices were, in the present day, very unlikely to interfere with their success.

I had also read a great deal, seen much, and heard more, of that romantic country where I was in the habit of spending some time every autumn; and the scenery of Lock Katrine was connected with the recollection of many a dear friend and merry expedition of former days. This poem, the action of which lay among scenes so beautiful and so deeply imprinted on my recollections, was a labour of love, and it was no less so to recall the manners and incidents introduced. The frequent custom of James IV., and particularly of James V., to walk through their kingdom in disguise, afforded me the hint of an incident which never fails to be interesting if managed with the slightest address or dexterity.