The Lady of the Lake eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 227 pages of information about The Lady of the Lake.

XXV.

Of stature fair, and slender frame,
But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. 
The belted plaid and tartan hose
Did ne’er more graceful limbs disclose;
His flaxen hair, of sunny hue,
Curled closely round his bonnet blue. 
Trained to the chase, his eagle eye
The ptarmigan in snow could spy;
Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath,
He knew, through Lennox and Menteith;
Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe
When Malcolm bent his sounding bow,
And scarce that doe, though winged with fear,
Outstripped in speed the mountaineer: 
Right up Ben Lomond could he press,
And not a sob his toil confess. 
His form accorded with a mind
Lively and ardent, frank and kind;
A blither heart, till Ellen came
Did never love nor sorrow tame;
It danced as lightsome in his breast
As played the feather on his crest. 
Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth
His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth
And bards, who saw his features bold
When kindled by the tales of old
Said, were that youth to manhood grown,
Not long should Roderick Dhu’s renown
Be foremost voiced by mountain fame,
But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme.

XXVI.

Now back they wend their watery way,
And, ‘O my sire!’ did Ellen say,
’Why urge thy chase so far astray? 
And why so late returned?  And why ’—­
The rest was in her speaking eye. 
’My child, the chase I follow far,
’Tis mimicry of noble war;
And with that gallant pastime reft
Were all of Douglas I have left. 
I met young Malcolm as I strayed
Far eastward, in Glenfinlas’ shade
Nor strayed I safe, for all around
Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground. 
This youth, though still a royal ward,
Risked life and land to be my guard,
And through the passes of the wood
Guided my steps, not unpursued;
And Roderick shall his welcome make,
Despite old spleen, for Douglas’ sake. 
Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen
Nor peril aught for me again.’

XXVII.

Sir Roderick, who to meet them came,
Reddened at sight of Malcolm Graeme,
Yet, not in action, word, or eye,
Failed aught in hospitality. 
In talk and sport they whiled away
The morning of that summer day;
But at high noon a courier light
Held secret parley with the knight,
Whose moody aspect soon declared
That evil were the news he heard. 
Deep thought seemed toiling in his head;
Yet was the evening banquet made
Ere he assembled round the flame
His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme,
And Ellen too; then cast around
His eyes, then fixed them on the ground,
As studying phrase that might avail
Best to convey unpleasant tale. 
Long with his dagger’s hilt he played,
Then raised his haughty brow, and said:—­

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The Lady of the Lake from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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