Lady of the Lake

The vanished guardians of the ground,
And still, from copse and heather deep,
Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep,
And in the plover's shrilly strain,
The signal whistle heard again. 

Nor breathed he free till far behind
The pass was left; for then they wind
Along a wide and level green,
Where neither tree nor tuft was seen,
Nor rush nor bush of broom was near, 
To hide a bonnet or a spear.

XII

The Chief in silence strode before,
And reached that torrent's sounding shore,
Which, daughter of three mighty lakes,
From Vennachar in silver breaks, 
Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines
On Bochastle the moldering lines,
Where Rome, the Empress of the world,
Of yore her eagle wings unfurled.

And here his course the Chieftain stayed, 
Threw down his target and his plaid,
And to the Lowland warrior said—
'Bold Saxon! to his promise just,
Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust.

This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, 
This head of a rebellious clan,
Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward,
Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard.

Now, man to man, and steel to steel.
A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 
See, here, all vantageless I stand,
Armed, like thyself, with single brand;
For this is Coilantogle ford,
And thou must keep thee with thy sword.'

XIII

The Saxon paused: 'I ne'er delayed, 
When foeman bade me draw my blade;
Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death;
Yet sure thy fair and generous faith,
And my deep debt for life preserved,
A better meed have well deserved. 

Can naught but blood our feud atone?
Are there no means?' 'No, Stranger, none!
And hear—to fire thy flagging zeal—
The Saxon cause rests on thy steel;

For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred 
Between the living and the dead;
'Who spills the foremost foeman's life,
His party conquers in the strife.''

'Then, by my word,' the Saxon said,
'The riddle is already read. 
Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff—
There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff.

Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy,
Then yield to Fate, and not to me.
To James, at Stirling, let us go, 
When, if thou wilt be still his foe,
Or if the King shall not agree
To grant thee grace and favor free,
I plight mine honor, oath, and word,
That, to thy native strengths restored, 
With each advantage shalt thou stand,
That aids thee now to guard thy land.'