XV.

Gone was the magic glass! I look'd around;
There hung the castle, like a thunder-cloud,
Above the darken'd sea, whose hollow sound

Subdued my spirit more than tempest loud.
And by my side, upon that solemn shore,

That wizard strange did like an image stand,
Watching the working of the ancient lore

That o'er the glass had pass'd at his command;
And when he saw me lost in wild surprise,
Once more he flash'd its light upon my startled eyes.

XVI.

Ye lesser glories, in my spirit sleep!

But proudly fling thy white arms to the sea,
Queen of the unconquer'd North!* lo! yonder deep,
With all his subject waves, doth worship thee!
Stately thou sittest on thy mountain throne,
Thy towers and temples like a cloudy sky;
And scarce canst tell what fabrics are thine own,
Hung mid the air-built phantoms floating by.
Oh! ne'er may that bright diadem be shorn,
By thee, for many an age, majestically worn!

XVII.

Nor dim and silent were thy regal halls,

(The mansion, now, of grief and solitude!)
But mirth and music shook thy pictured walls,
And Scotland's monarch reign'd in Holy-Rood.
Well did I know, mid banneret and peer,

Star of the Stuart-line, accomplish'd James!
His graceful words I almost seem'd to hear,
As, lightly ranging mid those high-born dames,
To each, in turn, some gallant wish he sigh'd,
But linger'd still near one, † his ruin and his pride!

XVIII.

Thou field of carnage! silent be thy name!

Where Scotland's royal standard sunk in blood;
While round their monarch, like a guardian flame,
Wasted in vain, his dying nobles stood.
Gladly I saw dark clouds in tumult pass
O'er that red sea of horror and despair;

And the last image in the magic glass,

Even like the seraph Mercy, saintly fair, Over her wounded foe hung sorrowing, t

And slaked his burning thirst with water from the spring.

* See the description of Edinburgh in Marmion.

† Dame Heron.

↑ Clara and Marmion.

XIX.

"Dry up those tears," the gentle wizard cried,
"Nor weep while nature in her glory smiles !”—
And lo! with sylvan mountains beautified,
Incumbent cliffs, lone bays, and fairy isles,
Floated a lake that I could scarce behold,

So bright it gleam'd with its enchanted waves!
While ever and anon wild music roll'd

From fractur'd rocks, and undiscover'd caves,
As if some spirit warbled from the steep

A low unearthly song, to charm the lake to sleep.

XX.

A spirit!-lo! her fairy vessel glides

Round the green edge of yonder oaken brake!
Before its prow the sparkling wave divides
In homage to the Lady of the Lake!

While, gazing from the shore, an armed Knight †
Holds distant parley with that unknown queen,
Whose eyes, with fear and wonder glistening bright,
Lend a new wildness to the mountain scene!

O lovelier far, in that bewilder'd trance,

Than Lady of the Mere, ‡ by shores of old romance!

XXI.

Wild rose her palace, mid the unbroken calm,
Burning with flowers, that, like a wreath of light,
Girdled the living dome, and breathing balm,
Sweet to the soul, as all those hues so bright!
The work of human hands it may not be,

And unto dreams of fairy power gave birth;
Yet, mid such dreams, the spirit paused to see
Some dim discover'd traces of this earth,
While on that lady's countenance divine
A pensive shadow lay, that told her mortal line.

XXII.

Yea! worldly cares to that enchanted dome,
Despite of Nature's guardian power, intrude;
Though bathed in sunshine, yet a stormy gloom
Is gathering o'er the hermit-solitude.
In evil hour yon princely stranger came!

For ambush'd foemen glare from every dell :-
Clan-Alpin hath beheld the Cross of Flame,

The sign of war her children love so well; And all her heathery mountains teem with life, With warriors gaunt and grim, and arm'd for mortal strife.

* Loch Catrine. + Fitz-James.

See Wordsworth's Poems.

XXIII.

Lake, rock, and mountain, cataract and flood,
Mine eyes behold no more; with eager breath,
I gaze on clashing faulchions dim'd with blood,
And plumed helms that seem to frown with death.
One of those shapes so beautiful and brave,

Like oak-tree sternly bending to the blast,
Must fall this day-but proud shall be his grave!
In wrath life's bootless energy hath past!-

Fallen is the eagle that so strongly flew

Long Celtic bards shall wail the dirge of Roderick Dhu.

XXIV.

Oh! not by vulgar arm was Roderick slain !
Less than a king the victor may not be :
See! how his war-steed bears him o'er the plain,
How nods his crest with regal majesty !
Strevlina's gate may bow her lofty head

To kiss the plume that mock'd each hostile sword,
Nor by such homage be dishonoured:

Methinks, in his disguise, she knows her lord,
As if beneath her arch King James did ride,
With all his unhelm'd peerage by his gracious side.

XXV.

By kingly acts a king should aye be known!
Then look through yonder lustre-beaming hall;
Stately the figures there,-yea! every one!

But Scotland's monarch far outshines them all.
And is she here, the Lady of the Lake?

Hush thy quick-beating heart, thou trembling thing! And let him smile who suffers for thy sake.

On your betrothed arms the golden ring

The Knight of Snowden's kingly hands impose,
A talisman that breaks the spell of all your woes.

XXVI.

The wizard's voice here touch'd upon my heart,
And quick I waked, like one who, scarce asleep,
Springs from his slumber with a sudden start

To shun some yawning gulph, or headlong steep. "Thou lov'st," said he, " on warlike pomp to gaze; 'Tis a true Scottish pride-look here again,

And dream no more of deeds of other days."
Glad I obey'd, and lo! the shores of Spain

Rose beautifully terrible, like heaven,

When all it's lowering clouds in wrathful hosts are driven.

XXVII.

Woe to yon tyrant! to his legions woe!

Joy to the vulture on his herbless rock! Glad would ye be to hear the Ebro flow

Once more, and leave the shepherd with his flock, Ye savage slaves, that shame the name of France! But ne'er that sound of safety must ye hear.

List ye

that tread?-the red-cross ranks advance! Vain valour's stand, and vain the flight of fear; For who shall live, when, shouting in their joy, The British brother-bands move onwards to destroy!

XXVIII.

Wasted on air were these warm words of mine-
The wizard and his magic glass were fled ;
The solemn hush, that speaks the day's decline,
Across the sea without a wave was shed.
The rooks had ceased their cawing in the sky,

Nor humm'd the wild-bee on the wall-flower bright, That on the old tower bloom'd luxuriantly;

Then rose the lovely star that brings the night, Till Luna enter'd on her placid reign,

And a sweet crescent smiled, reflected from the main.

NEW PUBLICATIONS

FOR 1810.

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