The Lady of the Lake
And on his neck his daughter hung.
The Monarch drank, that happy hour,
The sweetest, holiest draught of Power,--
When it can say with godlike voice,
Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice!
Yet would not James the general eye
On nature's raptures long should pry;
He stepped between--' Nay, Douglas, nay,
Steal not my proselyte away!
The riddle 'tis my right to read,
That brought this happy chance to speed.
Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray
In life's more low but happier way,
'Tis under name which veils my power
Nor falsely veils,--for Stirling's tower
Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims,
And Normans call me James Fitz-James.
Thus watch I o'er insulted laws,
Thus learn to right the injured cause.'
Then, in a tone apart and low,--
'Ah, little traitress! none must know
What idle dream, what lighter thought
What vanity full dearly bought,
Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew
My spell-bound steps to Benvenue
In dangerous hour, and all but gave
Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive!'
Aloud he spoke: 'Thou still dost hold
That little talisman of gold,
Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring,--
What seeks fair Ellen of the King?'
XXIX.
Full well the conscious maiden guessed
He probed the weakness of her breast;
But with that consciousness there came
A lightening of her fears for Graeme,
And more she deemed the Monarch's ire
Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire
Rebellious broadsword boldly drew;
And, to her generous feeling true,
She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu.
'Forbear thy suit;--the King of kings
Alone can stay life's parting wings.
I know his heart, I know his hand,
Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand;
My fairest earldom would I give
To bid Clan-Alpine's Chieftain live!--
Hast thou no other boon to crave?
No other captive friend to save?'
Blushing, she turned her from the King,
And to the Douglas gave the ring,
As if she wished her sire to speak
The suit that stained her glowing cheek.
'Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force,
And stubborn justice holds her course.
Malcolm, come forth!'--and, at the word,
Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's Lord.
'For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues,
From thee may Vengeance claim her dues,
Who, nurtured underneath our smile,
Hast paid our care by treacherous wile,
And sought amid thy faithful clan
A refuge for an outlawed man,
Dishonoring thus thy loyal name.--
Fetters and warder for the Graeme!'
His chain of gold the King unstrung,
The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung,
Then gently drew the glittering band,
And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand.
Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark,
On purple peaks a deeper shade descending;
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark,
The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending.
Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending,
And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy;
Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending,
With distant echo from the fold and lea,
And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee.
Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp!
Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway,
And little reck I of the censure sharp
May idly cavil at an idle lay.
Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way,
Through secret woes the world has never known,
When on the weary night dawned wearier day,
And bitterer was the grief devoured alone.--
That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own.
Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire,
Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string!
'Tis now a seraph bold, with touch of fire,
'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing.
Receding now, the dying numbers ring
Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell;
And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring
A wandering witch-note of the distant spell--
And now, 'tis silent all!--Enchantress, fare thee well!
ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES.
Cf. (confer), compare. F.Q., Spenser's Faerie Queene. Fol., following.
Id. (idem), the same. Lockhart, J. G. Lockhart's edition of Scott's
poems (various issues). P.L., Milton's Paradise Lost. Taylor, R. W.
Taylor's edition of The Lady of the Lake (London, 1875). Wb., Webster's
Dictionary (revised quarto edition of 1879). Worc., Worcester's
Dictionary (quarto edition). The abbreviations of the names of
Shakespeare's plays will be readily understood. The line-numbers are
those of the "Globe" edition.
The references to Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel are to canto and
line; those to Marmion and other poems to canto and stanza.
NOTES.
Introduction.
The Lady of the Lake was first published in 1810, when Scott was
thirty-nine, and it was dedicated to "the most noble John James, Marquis
of Abercorn." Eight thousand copies were sold between June 2d and
September 22d, 1810, and repeated editions were subsequently called for.
In 1830, the following "Introduction" was prefixed to the poem by the
author:--
After the success of Marmion, I felt inclined to exclaim with Ulysses in
the Odyssey:
[Greek Letters] Odys. X. 5.
"One venturous game my hand has won to-day--
Another, gallants, yet remains to play."
The ancient manners, the habits and customs of the aboriginal race by
whom the Highlands of Scotland were inhabited, had always appeared to
me peculiarly adapted to poetry. The change in their manners, too, had
taken place almost within my own time, or at least I had learned many
particulars concerning the ancient state of the Highlands from the old
men of the last generation. I had always thought the old Scottish
Gael highly adapted for poetical composition. The feuds and political
dissensions which, half a century earlier, would have rendered the
richer and wealthier part of the kingdom indisposed to countenance a
poem, the scene of which was laid in the Highlands, were now sunk in the
generous compassion which the English, more than any other nation, feel
for the misfortunes of an honourable foe. The Poems of Ossian had
by their popularity sufficiently shown that, if writings on Highland
subjects were qualified to interest the reader, mere national prejudices
were, in the present day, very unlikely to interfere with their success.
I had also read a great deal, seen much, and heard more, of that
romantic country where I was in the habit of spending some time
every autumn; and the scenery of Lock Katrine was connected with the
recollection of many a dear friend and merry expedition of former days.
This poem, the action of which lay among scenes so beautiful and so
deeply imprinted on my recollections, was a labour of love, and it was
no less so to recall the manners and incidents introduced. The frequent
custom of James IV., and particularly of James V., to walk through their
kingdom in disguise, afforded me the hint of an incident which never
fails to be interesting if managed with the slightest address or
dexterity.
I may now confess, however, that the employment, though attended with
great pleasure, was not without its doubts and anxieties. A lady, to
whom I was nearly related, and with whom I lived, during her whole life,
on the most brotherly terms of affection, was residing with me at the
time when the work was in progress, and used to ask me, what I could
possibly do to rise so early in the morning (that happening to be the
most convenient to me for composition). At last I told her the subject
of my meditations; and I can never forget the anxiety and affection
expressed in her reply. "Do not be so rash," she said, "my dearest
cousin. [2] You are already popular,--more so, perhaps, than you
yourself will believe, or than even I, or other partial friends, can
fairly allow to your merit. You stand high,--do not rashly attempt
to climb higher, and incur the risk of a fall; for, depend upon it,
a favourite will not be permitted even to stumble with impunity." I
replied to this affectionate expostulation in the words of Montrose,--
"'He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,
Who dares not put it to the touch
To gain or lose it all.'
"If I fail," I said, for the dialogue is strong in my recollection, "it
is a sign that I ought never to have succeeded, and I will write prose
for life: you shall see no change in my temper, nor will I eat a single
meal the worse. But if I succeed,
'Up with the bonnie blue bonnet,
The dirk, and the feather, and a'!'"
Afterwards I showed my affectionate and anxious critic the first canto
of the poem, which reconciled her to my imprudence. Nevertheless,
although I answered thus confidently, with the obstinacy often said to
be proper to those who bear my surname, I acknowledge that my confidence
was considerably shaken by the warning of her excellent taste and
unbiased friendship. Nor was I much comforted by her retraction of
the unfavourable judgment, when I recollected how likely a natural
partiality was to effect that change of opinion. In such cases,
affection rises like a light on the canvas, improves any favourable
tints which it formerly exhibited, and throws its defects into the
shade.
I remember that about the same time a friend started in to "heeze up my
hope," like the "sportsman with his cutty gun," in the old song. He was
bred a farmer, but a man of powerful understanding, natural good taste,
and warm poetical feeling, perfectly competent to supply the wants of
an imperfect or irregular education. He was a passionate admirer of
field-sports, which we often pursued together.
As this friend happened to dine with me at Ashestiel one day, I took the
opportunity of reading to him the first canto of The Lady of the Lake,
in order to ascertain the effect the poem was likely to produce upon a
person who was but too favourable a representative of readers at large.
It is of course to be supposed that I determined rather to guide my
opinion by what my friend might appear to feel, than by what he might
think fit to say. His reception of my recitation, or prelection, was
rather singular. He placed his hand across his brow, and listened with
great attention through the whole account of the stag-hunt, till the
dogs threw themselves into the lake to follow their master, who embarks
with Ellen Douglas. He then started up with a sudden exclamation, struck
his hand on the table, and declared, in a voice of censure calculated
for the occasion, that the dogs must have been totally ruined by being
permitted to take the water after such a severe chase. I own I was much
encouraged by the species of revery which had possessed so zealous a
follower of the sports of the ancient Nimrod, who had been completely
surprised out of all doubts of the reality of the tale. Another of his
remarks gave me less pleasure. He detected the identity of the King with
the wandering knight, Fitz-James, when he winds his bugle to summon
his attendants. He was probably thinking of the lively, but somewhat
licentious, old ballad, in which the denouement of a royal intrigue
takes place as follows:
"He took a bugle frae his side,
He blew both loud and shrill,
And four and twenty belted knights
Came skipping over the hill;
Then he took out a little knife,
Let a' his duddies fa',
And he was the brawest gentleman
That was amang them a'.