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 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 Graeme.
XXIII
Allan, with wistful look the while, Marked Roderick landing on the isle; His master piteously he eyed. Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride, Then dashed, with hasty hand, away From his dimmed eye the gathering spray; And Douglas, as his hand he laid On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said, 'Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy In my poor follower's glistening eye? I'll tell thee: he recalls the day, When in my praise he led the lay O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, While many a minstrel answered loud, When Percy's Norman pennon, won In bloody field, before me shone, And twice ten knights, the least a name As mighty as yon Chief may claim, Gracing my pomp, behind me came. Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud Was I of all that marshaled crowd, Though the waned crescent owned my might, And in my train trooped lord and knight, Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays, And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise, As when this old man's silent tear, And this poor maid's affection dear, A welcome give more kind and true, Than aught my better fortunes knew. Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, Oh! it out-beggars all I lost!'
XXIV
Delightful praise!—like summer rose, That brighter in the dew-drop glows, The bashful maiden's cheek appeared, For Douglas spoke and Malcolm heard. The flush of shame-faced joy to hide, The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide; The loved caresses of the maid The dogs with crouch and whimper paid; And, at her whistle, on her hand The falcon took his favorite stand, Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye, Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. And, trust, while in such guise she stood, Like fabled Goddess of the wood, That if a father's partial thought O'erweighed her worth, and beauty aught, Well might the lover's judgment fail To balance with a juster scale;
