  Harp of the North! that moldering long hast hung
On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring,note
And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung,
Till envious ivy did around thee cling,
5 Muffling with verdant ringlet every string—
O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep?
Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring,
Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep,
Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep?
10 Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon,note
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
15 Thine ardent symphony sublime and high!
Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed;
For still the burden of thy minstrelsy
Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye.
O wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand
20 That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray;
O 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,
25 Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway,
The wizard note has not been touched in vain.
Then silent be no more! Enchantress, wake again!
I The stag at eve had drunk his fill,
Where danced the moon on Monan's rill,note
30 And deep his midnight lair had made
In lone Glenartney's hazel shade;note
But, when the sun his beacon red
Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head,note
The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay
35 Resounded up the rocky way,
And faint, from farther distance borne,
Were heard the clanging hoof and horn.
II As Chief, who hears his warder call
"To arms! the foemen storm the wall,"
40 The antlered monarch of the waste
Sprung from his heathery couch in haste.
But ere his fleet career he took,
The dew-drops from his flanks he shook;
Like crested leader proud and high,
45 Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky;
A moment gazed adown the dale,
A moment snuffed the tainted gale,
A moment listened to the cry,
That thickened as the chase drew nigh;
50 Then, as the headmost foes appeared,
With one brave bound the copse he cleared,
And, stretching forward free and far,
Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.note
III Yelled on the view the opening pack;
55 Rock, glen, and cavern, paid them back;
To many a mingled sound at once
The awakened mountain gave response.
A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong,
Clattered a hundred steeds along,
60 Their peal the merry horns rung out,
A hundred voices joined the shout;
With hark and whoop and wild halloo,
No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew.
Far from the tumult fled the roe;
65 Close in her covert cowered the doe;
The falcon, from her cairn on high,
Cast on the rout a wondering eye,
Till far beyond her piercing ken
The hurricane had swept the glen.
70 Faint, and more faint, its failing din
Returned from cavern, cliff, and linn,note
And silence settled, wide and still,
On the lone wood and mighty hill.
IV Less loud the sounds of silvan war
75 Disturbed 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,
80 And many a gallant, stayed perforce,
Was fain to breathe his faltering horse,
And of the trackers of the deer,
Scarce half the lessening pack was near;
So shrewdly on the mountain side,
85 Had the bold burst their mettle tried.
V The noble stag was pausing now
Upon the mountain's southern brow,
Where broad extended, far beneath,
The varied realms of fair Menteith.note
90 With anxious eye he wandered o'er
Mountain and meadow, moss and moor,
And pondered refuge from his toil,
By far Lochard or Aberfoyle.note
But nearer was the copsewood grey,
95 That waved and wept on L
uth tapestry all,
To garnish forth the silvan hall.
XXVIII 560 The wondering stranger round him gazed,
And next the fallen weapon raised—
Few were the arms whose sinewy strength,
Sufficed to stretch it forth at length.
And as the brand he poised and swayed,
565 "I never knew but one," he said,
"Whose stalwart arm might brook to wieldnote
A blade like this in battle-field."
She sighed, then smiled and took the word:
"You see the guardian champion's sword;
570 As light it trembles in his hand,
As in my grasp a hazel wand;
My sire's tall form might grace the part
Of Ferragus, or Ascabart;note
But in the absent giant's hold
575 Are women now, and menials old."
XXIX The mistress of the mansion came,
Mature of age, a graceful dame;
Whose easy step and stately port
Had well become a princely court,
580 To whom, though more than kindred knew,note
Young Ellen gave a mother's due.
Meet welcome to her guest she made,
And every courteous rite was paid,
That hospitality could claim,
585 Though all unasked his birth and name.
Such then the reverence to a guest,
That fellest foe might join the feast,
And from his deadliest foeman's door
Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er.
590 At length his rank the stranger names,
"The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James;note
Lord of a barren heritage,
Which his brave sires, from age to age,
By their good swords had held with toil;
595 His sire had fallen in such turmoil,
And he, God wot, was forced to stand
Oft for his right with blade in hand.
This morning, with Lord Moray's train
He chased a stalwart stag in vain,
600 Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer,
Lost his good steed, and wandered here."
XXX Fain would the Knight in turn require
The name and state of Ellen's sire.
Well showed the elder lady's mien,
605 That courts and cities she had seen;
Ellen, though more her looks displayed
The simple grace of silvan maid,
In speech and gesture, form and face,
Showed she was come of gentle race.
610 'Twere strange in ruder rank to find
Such looks, such manners, and such mind.
Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave,
Dame Margaret heard with silence grave;
Or Ellen, innocently gay,
615 Turned all inquiry light away:
"Weird women we—by dale and down
We dwell, afar from tower and town.
We stem the flood, we ride the blast,
On wandering knights our spells we cast;
620 While viewless minstrels touch the string,
'Tis thus our charmÉd rimes we sing."
She sung, and still a harp unseennote
Filled up the symphony between.
XXXI
SONG "Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
625 Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking;
Dream of battled fields no more,
Days of danger, nights of waking.
In our isle's enchanted hall,
Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
630 Fairy strains of music fall,
Every sense in slumber dewing.
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Dream of fighting fields no more;
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
635 Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
"No rude sound shall reach thine ear,
Armor's clang, or war-steed champing,
Trump nor pibroch summon herenote
Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
640 Yet the lark's shrill fife may come
At the day-break from the fallow,
And the bittern sound his drum,note
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near,
645 Guards nor warders challenge here,
Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing,
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping."
XXXII She paused—then, blushing, led the lay
To grace the stranger of the day.
650 Her mellow notes awhile prolong
The cadence of the flowing song,
Till to her lips in measured frame
The minstrel verse spontaneous came.
SONG—(Continued) "Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done,
655 While our slumbrous spells assail ye,
Dream not, with the rising sun,
Bugles here shall sound reveillÉ. |
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