Lady of the Lake

'The happy path!—what! said he nought 
Of war, of battle to be fought,
Of guarded pass?'

'No, by my faith! Nor saw I ought could augur scathe.'
'O haste thee, Allan, to the kern,
—Yonder his tartans I discern; 
Learn thou his purpose, and conjure
That he will guide the stranger sure!

What prompted thee, unhappy man?
The meanest serf in Roderick's clan
Had not been bribed by love or fear, 
Unknown to him to guide thee here.'

XVII

'Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be
Since it is worthy care from thee;
Yet life I hold but idle breath,
When love or honor's weighed with death. 

Then let me profit by my chance,
And speak my purpose bold at once.
I come to bear thee from a wild,
Where ne'er before such blossom smiled;
By this soft hand to lead thee far 
From frantic scenes of feud and war.

Near Bochastle my horses wait;
They bear us soon to Stirling gate.
I'll place thee in a lovely bower,
I'll guard thee like a tender flower'— 

'O hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art
To say I do not read thy heart;
Too much, before, my selfish ear
Was idly soothed my praise to hear.

That fatal bait hath lured thee back, 
In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track;
And how, O how, can I atone
The wreck my vanity brought on!—

One way remains—I'll tell him all—
Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall! 
Thou, whose light folly bears the blame,
 Buy thine own pardon with thy shame!

But first—my father is a man
Outlawed and exiled, under ban;
The price of blood is on his head, 
With me 'twere infamy to wed.

Still wouldst thou speak?—then hear the truth!
Fitz-James, there is a noble youth—
If yet he is!—exposed for me
And mine to dread extremity— 
Thou hast the secret of my heart;
Forgive, be generous, and depart!'

XVIII

Fitz-James knew every wily train
A lady's fickle heart to gain,
But here he knew and felt them vain. 

There shot no glance from Ellen's eye,
To give her steadfast speech the lie;
In maiden confidence she stood.
Though mantled in her cheek the blood,
And told her love with such a sigh 
Of deep and hopeless agony,
As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom,
And she sat sorrowing on his tomb.