Lady of the Lake

Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread;
Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain! 
Thy hand is on a lion's mane.'

XIII

'Minstrel,' the maid replied, and high
Her father's soul glanced from her eye,
'My debts to Roderick's house I know:
All that a mother could bestow,
To Lady Margaret's care I owe,
Since first an orphan in the wild
She sorrowed o'er her sister's child;

To her brave chieftain son, from ire
Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire. 

A deeper, holier debt is owed;
And, could I pay it with my blood,
Allan! Sir Roderick should command
My blood, my life—but not my hand.

Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell 
A votaress in Maronnan's cell;
Rather through realms beyond the sea,
Seeking the world's cold charity,
Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word,
And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, 
An outcast pilgrim will she rove,
Than wed the man she cannot love.

XIV

'Thou shakest, good friend, thy tresses gray—
That pleading look, what can it say
But what I own?—I grant him brave, 
But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave;

And generous—save vindictive mood,
Or jealous transport, chafe his blood;
I grant him true to friendly band,
As his claymore is to his hand;

But O! that very blade of steel
More mercy for a foe would feel:
I grant him liberal, to fling
Among his clan the wealth they bring,
When back by lake and glen they wind, 
And in the Lowland leave behind,
Where once some pleasant hamlet stood,
A mass of ashes slaked with blood.

The hand that for my father fought,
I honor, as his daughter ought; 
But can I clasp it reeking red,
From peasants slaughtered in their shed?

No! wildly while his virtues gleam,
They make his passions darker seem,
And flash along his spirit high, 
Like lightning o'er the midnight sky.

While yet a child—and children know,
Instinctive taught, the friend and foe—
I shuddered at his brow of gloom,
His shadowy plaid, and sable plume; 

A maiden grown, I ill could bear
His haughty mien and lordly air;
But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim,
In serious mood, to Roderick's name,
I thrill with anguish! or, if e'er 
A Douglas knew the word, with fear.

To change such odious theme were best—
What think'st thou of our stranger guest?'