Lady of the Lake

Beside its embers red and clear,
Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer;
And up he sprung with sword in hand—
'Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!' 

'A stranger.' 'What dost thou require?'
'Rest and a guide, and food and fire.
My life's beset, my path is lost,
The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.'

'Art thou a friend to Roderick?' 'No.' 
'Thou darest not call thyself a foe?'
'I dare! to him and all the band
He brings to aid his murderous hand.'

'Bold words!—but, though the beast of game
The privilege of chase may claim, 
Though space and law the stag we lend,
Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend,
Who ever recked, where, how, or when,
The prowling fox was trapped or slain?

Thus treacherous scouts—yet sure they lie,
750 Who say thou camest a secret spy!'
'They do, by heaven!—Come Roderick Dhu,
And of his clan the boldest two,
And let me but till morning rest,
I write the falsehood on their crest.' 

'If by the blaze I mark aright,
Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight.'

'Then by these tokens may'st thou know
Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.'

'Enough, enough; sit down and share 
A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.'

XXXI

He gave him of his Highland cheer,
The hardened flesh of mountain deer;
Dry fuel on the fire he laid,
And bade the Saxon share his plaid.

He tended him like welcome guest,
Then thus his further speech addressed:
'Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu
A clansman born, a kinsman true;

Each word against his honor spoke, 
Demands of me avenging stroke;
Yet more—upon thy fate, 'tis said,
A mighty augury is laid.

It rests with me to wind my horn—
Thou art with numbers overborne; 
It rests with me, here, brand to brand,
Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand;

But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause,
Will I depart from honor's laws;
To assail a wearied man were shame, 
And stranger is a holy name;
Guidance and rest, food and fire,
In vain he never must require.

Then rest thee here till dawn of day;
Myself will guide thee on the way, 
O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward,
Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard,
As far as Coilantogle's ford;
From thence thy warrant is thy sword.'

'I take thy courtesy, by heaven, 
As freely as 'tis nobly given!'

'Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry