Lady of the Lake

I saw him redden, when the theme 
Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream
Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound,
Which I, thou saidst, about him wound.

Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught?
Oh, no! 'twas apprehensive thought 
For the kind youth—for Roderick too—
Let me be just—that friend so true;

In danger both, and in our cause!
Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause.
Why else that solemn warning given, 
'If not on earth, we meet in heaven!'

Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane,
If eve return him not again,
Am I to hie, and make me known?
Alas! he goes to Scotland's throne, 
Buys his friend's safety with his own;
He goes to do—what I had done,
Had Douglas' daughter been his son!'

XI

'Nay, lovely Ellen!—dearest, nay!
If aught should his return delay, 
He only named yon holy fane
As fitting place to meet again.

Be sure he's safe; and for the Graeme—
Heaven's blessing on his gallant name!
My visioned sight may yet prove true, 
Nor bode of ill to him or you.

When did my gifted dream beguile?
Think of the stranger at the isle,
And think upon the harpings slow,
That presaged this approaching woe! 

Sooth was my prophecy of fear;
Believe it when it augurs cheer.
Would we had left this dismal spot!
Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot.
Of such a wondrous tale I know— 
Dear lady, change that look of woe,
My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.'

ELLEN

'Well, be it as thou wilt; I hear,
But cannot stop the bursting tear.'
The minstrel tried his simple art, 
But distant far was Ellen's heart.

XII

BALLAD—ALICE BRAND

Merry it is in the good greenwood,
When the mavis and merle are singing,
When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,
And the hunter's horn is ringing.

'O Alice Brand, my native land Is lost for love of you;
And we must hold by wood and wold,
As outlaws wont to do.

'O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright, 
And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue,
That on the night of our luckless flight,
Thy brother bold I slew.

'Now must I teach to hew the beech
The hand that held the glaive, 
For leaves to spread our lowly bed,