The Thane of Fife :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Thane of Fife

A Poem, in Six Cantos. By William Tennant

Tennant, William (1784-1848)

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THE THANE OF FIFE.

CANTO I.

II.

CANTO II.

III.

IV.

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CANTO II.

I

Meantime King Constantine, where then he lay,
Within the city which the Achaian saint,
Advis'd by dream, had founded near the bay
On Kilry's hill with fane and turret quaint,
From sleep arous'd, uncurtain'd to the day
His eyes, that witness'd soul oppress'd and faint,
Not fresh and strong from sleep's rejoicing dew,
But grievously oppress'd and pierc'd with anguish through.

II

For round his troubled pillow there had flown
A frightful vision, ominous and bad,
That o'er his lab'ring soul had flutter'd down
From its black pinions horror sick and sad;
Perplex'd, and in alarm for life and throne,
Himself in sordid garb that morn he clad,
And to his chamber call'd his men of might,
And men of council wise that guide his thoughts aright.

III

They came, the men that prop and deck his reign,
Girding the throne with guardianship full sure,
Fife's blameless lord, the lion-hearted Thane,
Macduff, whose puissant name shall aye endure,
Athol and Douglas, mighty warriors twain,
Cullen, in wisdom and in days mature,
Good Adrian in his white and priestly vest,
And Kellach with his cross fair gleaming on his breast.

IV

All these, and many more, his men of skill
And might, the Saints and Chieftains of the land,
Came joyous to receive their master's will,
And aid him or with counsel or with hand:
He, sad and cheerless from foreboded ill,
Amid his counsellors that round him stand,
Open'd his lips, and thus in full exprest
The heaviness of woe that hung upon his breast:—

V

O friends, that to my word compliant all
Have gather'd round me to await my hest,
Deem not that trivial cause or matter small
Now stirs with sharp anxiety my breast;
Heaven oft in visions gives a secret call
Preservative of those she loves the best,
And in the vision that last night I saw
Heaven surely gives a sign impress'd with holy awe.

VI

Methought I, with my daughter Claribel,
At eve was walking on the sea-beach sand,
Rejoicing in the summer-shine, that fell
From heaven all-glorious over sea and land;
Earth, with the happy hour delighted well,
Seem'd gladsomely to gambol, and expand
Her boundless lap luxuriant to receive
The mist of sunny rays that lac'd the golden eve.

VII

And Ocean, by whose margin clear as glass,
My child and I appear'd in dream to stray,
Was deeply slumbering through his mighty mass
Of waters that forgot their surging play,
Save where to kiss our feet, as by we pass,
The curling pretty billows, from the bay,
As if in courtesy came dancing in,
And twin'd around our steps their lucent silver thin.

VIII

It stood not long, that hour so blest and bright;
For in a moment from his place in heaven
Down dropt the sun into the gulf of night,
And from the east, by whip of monster driven,
The horse, whereon sat darkness' angel pight,
Gallop'd through clouds asunder split and riven,
And, with the blastment of his baneful breath,
Empoison'd all the world to blackness and to death.

IX

Then Ocean broke at once the chain that held
Him in his hollow basin all at peace,
And, suddenly commov'd, upheav'd and swell'd
To stormy agitation all his seas;
Wave after wave, without a wind impell'd,
Roll'd gathering on with terrible increase,
And, on their yesty tops high-couched, bore
A thousand monsters black, all moving tow'rd the shore.

X

Sea-monsters black, and huge, and multiform,
Morses, sea-hogs, sea-calves, sea-serpents long,
Each submarine and weed-envelop'd worm
That warps his maze voluminous along;
All the foul train, that in the day of storm
Enround old Nereus with their cumbrous throng,
Floated in sounding tumult to the strand,
Where I and Claribel were pacing slow the sand.

XI

To us-ward they advance, to us-ward near
They roll their huge unnumber'd phalanx on,
Each slimy mouth agape t' englut us sheer,
Or craunch our feeble bodies bone by bone;
Whilst rooted to the beach and ic'd with fear,
All impotent we stand and fix'd as stone,
Although, with many an idle tug, we toil
T' unroot our moveless feet, that grow unto the soil.

XII

At last they climb the burden'd beach, at last
Round us afar their huddling host extend;
And now a hundred throats, all gaping vast,
Each with its death environ and impend,
When with the piercing pangs that through me past,
Foreseeing mine and my dear daughter's end,
My soul, intolerably anguish'd, broke
Th' illusion's slender chain, and shuddering I awoke.

XIII

I woke, but not to joy, for that bad dream
Dash'd all my spirit with a feverous dread,
And, maugre day-light, still its shadows seem
To play their vexing terrors round my head,
Portending death, or jeopardy extreme
Of life, my peace disturb'd or glory fled,
Or happy Scotland from some foreign foe
With inroad rude assail'd, and doom'd to war and woe.

XIV

Rest it with you, my Lords, t' interpret right
My dream, if true from heaven, or false from hell;
Mine be it, when such dubious thoughts affright,
To you my soul's anxieties to tell,
And what your wisdom counsels, that with might
T' achieve and act the King with honour well:
Then speak, and bless me with advice, and share
To me your comforts out, as I to you my care.

XV

He spoke, and none gave answer; for anon
Is heard, from all the city's streets around,
A noise of uproar, that came swelling on,
Assailing every ear with fearful sound;
Hubbub of tongues confus'd, whose every tone,
Sharpen'd with fear, confess'd a panic stound;
Wild shrieks, as if from dread of hostile harm,
And all the city stirr'd and reeling with alarm.

XVI

And forthwith, with a hot and fiery haste,
Into the presence of the King there broke
A dusty messenger, whose panting breast,
And sweat-bedrenched brow, and troubled look,
Told he that morn had travell'd far and fast,
With bitter tidings not to be mistook,
Which instantly requir'd the monarch's ear,
Importing dangers high, and imminent, and near.

XVII

O King, he cries, this morn mine eyes have seen
The foe upon our shores his thousands land,
Where yesternight the beach shew'd pure and clean
From foreign step its smooth imprinted sand,
There Hungar and his myriads, fierce and keen,
Torment with step successive all the strand,
And, where o'er-night the sea-mew lonely sang,
There peal loud shouts of war and armour's iron clang.

XVIII

I saw the Ocean's green and trembling face
Clad with their ships that flam'd with cinnabar;
I saw them from their decks, with martial pace
March off, discumb'ring Ocean of their war,
And up the shore spreading, to larger space,
Their weapon'd mass of soldiery afar:
Crail and her coasts are bright with hostile arms,
And all her streets resound with terrors and alarms.

XIX

Blood, blood, the first-fruits of the strife is shed,
The sword is out and hath its work begun;
I saw its fiery gleam; the grass is red
With murder's dew that steams up to the sun;
The timid mother with her babe is fled;
Townsmen and peasants to the uplands run;
And half the shire, from Leven to the Ness,
Is uproar, flight, and fear, and rapine and distress.

XX

And let them land, these Danish foes of ours,
Exclaims Macduff, Fife's lion-hearted Thane,
These vagabond and ship-inhovell'd powers,
That Ocean, like her weeds, spews out amain,
E'en let them land, and welcome to our shores—
A bloody welcome give them to their bane—
That Odin and his race of thieves may know
What thistles guard our shores to prick to death the foe.

XXI

For may the land, that in her precious soil
Hugs and imbosoms me, and makes me blest,
Eject me, as unworthy and as vile,
From loitering longer on her happy breast,
If this right hand henceforth shall sleep from toil,
And this good sword shall in its scabbard rest,
Till, with Saint Andrew's aid, our skies we purge
Of foreign breath impure, our fields of Danish scourge.

XXII

Me, Sire, attended with a chosen train,
Permit forthwith to pass and meet the foe,
That I may question this intrusive Dane,
Ere to the strife thou gird thyself to go;
Wherefore he now has helm'd across the main
His vessels fraught with savage soldiers so,
Assailant of our lov'd and peaceful land,
That little dream'd of wrong from foe's insulting hand.

XXIII

And if the love of combat and of fray
Have brought him hither of a foe in quest,
Certes he need in search no farther stray
Around the warlike regions of the west,
For to the fight I challenge him to-day,
How proud and plum'd soever be his crest;
And, in defiance of him and his god,
I with my weapon's point dispute his farther road.

XXIV

So spoke, inflam'd with honourable glow,
The Thane; and thus the Monarch made reply:—
O thou, whose faith and valour well I know,
Prov'd heretofore in trials great and high,
To what thy blameless spirit calls thee, go,
Go, and precede me with thine energy;
Plant thy strong foot athwart th' invader's path,
And bid him halt a space and tarry in his wrath.

XXV

Meantime, while thus that wolf is held at bay,
Mine be the care from all my wide domain,
My sheriffdoms and shires, without delay
To muster all my Chiefs and all their train;
That with assembled force and full array
Of battle we may bear upon the Dane,
And crush him back into the waves afar,
And make the sea regorge the vomit of his war.

XXVI

So spoke the King; and with a silent joy
The hero from the presence pass'd along,
And for the battle and its fierce employ
'Gan muster up his manly spirit strong:
He tarried not to trifle and to toy
With pastime or with words of idle tongue,
But seeks, with eager and impatient speed,
His goodly armour bright and fiery-footed steed.

XXVII

He dons his goodly armour gaudy bright;
Cuirass and gorget fortify his breast;
The hauberk clasps him in its steely weight;
His manly thighs are in their cuishes drest;
Rich on his head the helmet's brazen light
Predominates in glory; and his crest,
Tufted and tow'ring, to the vernal wind
Its long luxuriant plume in playful dance resign'd.

XXVIII

Unstabled, then, his fiery courser proud
All-gallant comes, and glorious for the fight,
Exulting in his prancings, and full loud
With neighings boastful of his speed and might;
Up springs his valiant rider like a god
In grace, and regulates the reins aright,
Curbing that haughty horse, whose champing mouth
Feasts on the golden bit, and churns it into froth.

XXIX

His Squire, and train of horsemen few but strong,
Equipt and muster'd, soon their lord surround;
So, down th' encumber'd street they pass along,
Clatt'ring the causeway with a ringing sound;
Splits, as they pass, the city's frequent throng,
That heave and shoal in trepidation round,
Perplex'd and full of fears; yet proud, to view
Thus ready for the foe their bulwark firm and true.

XXX

Then did the ancient city, loose from bar
Her iron-ribbed massy gates expand,
To let pass through her Chieftain to the war,
Inflam'd and zealous to defend his land:
He pass'd; and now is up the moor afar,
Hoofing its heather with his manly band;
He does not stop to drink in Kenly's wave,
He's down by Airdrie fields with all his band of brave.

XXXI

And soon he hears and sees with ear and eye
The show and tumult of that foreign host,
Clangour of rattling arms resounding high,
Splendour of helms and shields with gold embost,
Huge-statur'd heroes, moving haughtily
Their steps of usurpation on his coast,
And all the flower of Denmark and her war
Blazon'd in fair display, and camping wide and far.

XXXII

Exults in secret that high-hearted Thane,
At sight of foes so gallant and so gay,
In conscious worth anticipating fain
The rich reward of battle's conqu'ring day:
Thus joyful, prescient thus of glory's gain,
Down rushes he upon his rapid way,
To find the proud King, that presumeth so
To violate his land with foot of foreign foe.

XXXIII

He finds the proud King that hath so presum'd,
Between Balcomie and the fort of Crail,
Conspicuous mid his host, full arm'd and plum'd,
Glancing and sunny in his golden mail,
Rolling his eye-glance fierce, as if he doom'd
The soil whereon he look'd to woe and wail,
And with majestic strides of haughty scorn,
Trampling that noble land where Thane Macduff was born.

XXXIV

A space beyond the camp's tumultuous marge,
The Chief made halt with all his warrior train,
And sent a herald from his side, with charge
To crave brief parley with the royal Dane:—
King Hungar! thou of might and heart so large,
Listen my words, to you they appertain;
My lord and master Thane Macduff stands near,
Short parl with thee he craves, should thou but deign thine ear.

XXXV

Whereat the Cimbrian monarch at the word
Approach'd the verge of that far-camping host,
There stood upon its limit, while the lord
Of Fife with bold address him 'gan accost:—
O thou, whom thus it pleases to unhoard
Thy treasury of war upon our coast,
I come not now, with greetings fair and free,
Unbidden as thou art, to hail and welcome thee.

XXXVI

I come, appointed by my liege and King,
Who at thy coming stands in some surprise,
T' inquire what cause has tempted thee to bring
Hither thy ships on doubtful enterprise?
Have eastern winds, that o'er the broad sea swing,
Blown thee transverse from where thy voyage lies?
Is it for pastime, and for summer sport,
Thou com'st with armed force to revel in such sort?

XXXVII

Or like sea-rover and sea-bandit stout,
After thy custom and thy country's mode,
Com'st thou with these thy eastern hordes to spout
Thy devastations on our coasts abroad,
For plunder vagabonding round about
In name of thine abhorr'd wine-lapping god?
If such thine errand and thine object be,
Here speak that I may know; it recks my King and me.

XXXVIII

To whom, with stern regard and sullen brow,
The Cimbrian King gave instantly reply:—
Thou guessest well, my Lord; I come not now
At random hither blown by stormy sky;
I do not come, as if in sport, to show
My merry pomp of idle heraldry;
I come, admonish'd by my country's god,
Here on these western shores to let my war abroad.

XXXIX

It is not mine, with preface stuff'd with words
And warnings, to proclaim the wars I make;
I come at once with soldiers and with swords
T' announce what bold designs I undertake:
Here on thy shore I stand with all my lords,
To fight a battle for Prince Garnard's sake,
To reinstal him on his father's throne,
And drag th' usurper down whom thou and traitors own.

XL

Go then, and tell thy King, that now I mean,
Maugre his power, and maugre thee and thine,
To chase him hence from his unjust domain,
And raise, and readvance Brude's royal line:
Should he dislike, his be it to restrain
These bands, and counterwork my high design;
And bid him haste, as this my falchion good
Hangs in its idle sheath a-hung'ring after blood.

XLI

Whereat incens'd, with ready words replied
The fearless Chief of demi-lion crest:—
O King, if thus thy sword upon thy side
Hangs fretting at its cold unbloody rest,
And if thy purpose be in wrathful pride
T' embroil these happy regions of the west,
Here stand, here first approve thy sword on me,
Who in my country's name defy thy god and thee.

XLII

Think not that though thou come, with purpose proud
Imperiously to dictate on our shore,
Thou like a master thus shalt be allow'd
To force that tyrant whom our states forswore;
My King has nobles many that have vow'd
To save the land their fathers sav'd of yore;
And I am one who, in Saint Andrew's might,
Now dare thee to the death; here stand and to the fight.

XLIII

This said, he from his noble steed in haste
Dismounting gave his footsteps to the soil,
And went to meet the King, who on as fast
Came obvious to the battle and the broil:
As whirlwinds from the chasms of ether vast
Conflicting rush and ruinous t' embroil
With gusts the cloudy chambers of the sky,
And o'er the troubled world in blustrous battle fly:

XLIV

So fiercely, and with such loud onset dire,
Rush'd the contending heroes to the fray,
As in their mighty breasts the mounting ire
Inflam'd them to the perilous assay;
Out-flew and flash'd like flames of flirting fire
Their swords with inextinguishable play,
And in their greedy quest of deadly wound
Made ring both shield and mail with clank of iron sound.

XLV

As when on rainy eve of winter day
The peasants, gather'd from the clayey field,
Crowd round the forge to sharpen or o'erlay
Coulter or share with rigid metal steel'd,
They with enormous double-handed sway
High over-head their pond'rous hammers wield,
And, whirling fast the never-ceasing stroke,
Assault the anvil's strength with many a sounding shock:

XLVI

So on their shields and clatter'd frocks of mail,
Shower'd from the swords of these enraged foes,
Frequent and furious fell the strokes like hail,
Eager to give to life its bloody close;
Each hauberk-chink, though small, that might avail
To admit the cruel death with all its woes,
Was search'd by cunning eye, and well explor'd,
All for the murd'rous stab by point of forceful sword.

XLVII

And, following the falchion's point, out-rush'd
The noble blood from many a latent wound,
Ensanguining their gilded mail, that blush'd
With red suffusion streaming to the ground;
And now the heroes' hearts, that late were flush'd
With haughty strength, and wrath that knew no bound,
Wax'd faint, and in them sunk their ireful might,
And laxer swung their swords, and feebler grew the fight:

XLVIII

When in the blue recesses of the East,
Where the sky leans on sea's remotest verge,
Came, whirl'd along the Ocean's glassy breast,
A golden chariot sliding o'er the surge;
As lightnings from their cloud burst manifest,
So did that glory from mid-sea emerge,
And tow'rd the shore, upon its wheels of pearl,
Rush'd like a globe of flame with smooth and steady whirl.

XLIX

And up high-bounding o'er the rocks of Carr
It flew, and up the beach's pebbles white,
And o'er the tops of that encamping war,
Skimming the helmed heads with rapid flight;
Then halts, anon, that silver-axled car
Near where the Thane and King pursue the fight,
When from its bosom a protruded spear
Thrusts forth between the chiefs its glittering barrier clear.

L

For Niord, green-hair'd god that rules the sea,
Whose dripping beard down dangles from his chin,
Beneath that chariot's coral canopy,
Veil'd with a mist of gold, sat bright within;
His are the wheels so pearl-emboss'd that be,
And his that interpos'd clear javelin,
Held out at length by his befriending arm
To separate the chiefs and save the deadly harm.

LI

For as in Ocean's chambers, green as glass,
He sat a-toying with his mermaids fair,
His eyes up-glancing through the liquid mass
Of waters that above him welt'ring were,
Discern'd the heroes' battle how it was,
What anger and what strife of strength was there,
And how their limbs wax'd faint with many an wound,
And how the ready death hung hovering o'er the ground.

LII

His spear dissevers soon that dangerous fray;
Back startling from the terror of its glance
The chiefs recede, full glad to scape away
From the red menace of the burning lance;
Meantime a cloud, out-fuming on the day
Its darkness from the chariot's radiance,
Gather'd and gush'd before the team, and spread
Envelopment of mist fast round each warrior's head.

III

'Twas black as night around each warrior's head;
He saw nor day nor the clear sunny rays
That swim in heaven, nor the blood-dabbled blade
Which yet his weary hand unquenched sways;
In vain his eyes athwart th' involving shade
Search for the foe with ever-baffled gaze;
In vain his sword, yet greedy after blood,
With many an idle thrust gropes blindly through the cloud.

LIV

And still, the more he seeks t' attain the foe
The farther he is wilder'd in his maze,
Contrariously directed, errant so
That eastward he, the other westward strays:
The King, amid his troops that round him go,
'Scapes into day-light and the sunny blaze;
The Thane beside his equipage and steed,
So govern'd in his steps, is from the darkness freed.

LV

Thus, conscious both that that perplexing mist
Divinely came to terminate the broil,
Full glad alike from battle to desist,
So faint and languid from the bloody toil,
Sheathing his sword, each bold antagonist
Retires, his honour yet unstain'd with soil;
He to his royal and high-reared tent,
Where plung'd, he courts repose, with weariness o'erspent.

LVI

The Thane, environ'd and enguarded round
By his attending train, a valiant throng,
Remounts his ready steed, and from the ground,
Oft hesitating, slowly rides along;
For, though his weary limbs be weak with wound,
His heart's desire yet fervent is and strong,
And, in its fiery longings unsubdu'd,
Still meditates of war and dreadful deeds renew'd.

LVII

And aye his threat'ning eye-glance, backward cast,
To scowl its short farewell upon the foe,
Instead of foe and camp and tumult vast
Of haughty heroes stalking to and fro,
Sees but that cloud alone dispreading fast
Its pitchy vapours in tremendous show,
Convolv'd in wreaths of gulfy mists, between
Him and his Danish foes impenetrable screen.

LVIII

He from its whirling skirts receding rode
Fast up the land amid his horsemen train;
He past by Thirdpart's lawn-enclos'd abode,
He past o'er Airdrie's forest-fringed plain;
The furzy moor that in the morn he trod,
Receiv'd the tramplings of his hoofs again;
And now, not distant on his right he saw,
Crown'd with its cell of prayer, Denino's grassy law.

LIX

He came into the hollow dell where flows,
Kenly! thy little and thy lucid stream;
There on thy verdure-fringed banks, where grows
The harebell dallying with the sunny beam,
Upon his eyes a sudden scene arose,
Splendid and gay as summer evening's dream,
That made him in his journey halt to view
A spectacle so fair, fantastical, and new.

LX

(Full well the spot I know, for often there,
When danc'd the buxom summer round our sky,
Strewn on the idle turf, and void of care,
In muse at eve I have been wont to lie,
Surrend'ring up my soul to fancy's fair
Illusions, gorgeous as the rainbow's die;
Or with great Homer in high converse join'd,
Or feasting on the dreams of Plato's mystic mind.

LXI

There, too, as in my thoughtful walks I err'd,
Rambling in sweet seclusion down the dell,
The crash and tumult of the world I heard
When from his peak of power Napoleon fell;
And on what day his wasteful legions dar'd,
All-haughty as they were and cuirass'd well,
To stand before our Lion's wrath, whose howl
Back scatter'd them with shame, disaster'd sad and foul.)

LXII

There on these banks, in a smooth grassy place,
Th' astonish'd Thane descried a wondrous scene:
The Fairy queen herself, with all her race
Of flimsy phantoms frisking on the green,
Glitt'ring and glad, in vesture, shape, and face,
Chasing and chas'd the grassy spires between,
As gay, as flitting as the solar beams
Imag'd in bright reflex from summer's breezy streams.

LXIII

In amice clad of flow'r-de-luce she sate,
Thron'd gloriously upon her emerald chair,
And wielded in her slender hand with state
Her sceptre, hewn from out a beryl fair,
Wherewith in queenly dignity elate
She govern'd that slim people of the air,
Directing them to harmonize the dance,
And intertwist it well with subtle skip and glance.

LXIV

They twist and trip and intervolve it well,
Flinging their phasms fantastically high,
Circling her chair with maze inscrutable,
Not to be follow'd by th' empuzzled eye:
As little silvery waves with gentle swell,
In summer when the sea-breeze fans the sky,
Play round the rocks with eddy and with whirl,
And up their shelly sides the foamless waters curl:

LXV

So round her throne in rapid-whirling rings
That volatile small people glide and glance;
There Dapperling, her chamberlain, up-springs
Like spark from fire, lavolting through the dance:
There Pheeze and Fangle, puny air-built things,
Wince loftier flings than those of skittish France,
And Strout, and Blossom on his limber shanks,
Most merrily bounce it high and strut like mountebanks.

LXVI

And Peasecod, with a little rainbow sash'd,
That girds the thumb-thick glory of his waist;
And Thimble, whose long coat-tails had been wash'd
In sunbeams that went round him wheeling fast;
And Red-cap, with his saffron cowl, that flash'd
Like thread of fire as down the reel he past;
And Prim, whose garments of eye-dazzling bloom
Up in the moon were wov'n in Cynthia's silver loom.

LXVII

All these, and more than I in rhyme can name,
A huddling multitude of phantasms small,
Like bright-scal'd fishes in a limpid stream,
Career with fury through the gorgeous ball,
Inflaming Kenly's green banks with a gleam
Of ever-shifting radiance magical:
The Thane Macduff was ravish'd with delight,
And check'd his steed awhile to feast him on the sight.

LXVIII

He gaz'd a space, till at the last the Queen,
High waving o'er the dance her beryl wand,
Laid quiet with that sign the bustling scene,
And moveless round her all her people stand;
Then, rising from her chair, with brow serene,
And with majestic beckoning of hand,
She fix'd upon the Thane attentive eye,
And lifted up her voice and spoke melodiously.

LXIX

O thou, whom from thy country's wars with joy
I see returning in thy glory great,
And bid thee hail, and in thy bold employ
Go prosp'ring onward joyous and elate;
Well have I spied to-day with what annoy
Thy sword descended on thy foeman's pate,
Giving him bitter foretaste, as was due,
Of vengeance for him stor'd by Scotland and by you.

LXX

For I was with thee when this morn thy arm
Strung up its sinews for the battle's shock,
And on thy falchion's edge with double harm
I rode to aggravate its forceful stroke;
Thus countervailing with my fairy charm
What aid the Cimbrian from King Odin took;
Thy wounds, inflicted by his steel, I heal'd,
And staunch'd the flowing blood when thou didst leave the field.

LXXI

For deem not that the hero's toils, to save
His country from invader's wasteful hate,
To me and to my subjects liege and brave
Are foreign, and no anxious care create;
'Tis ours, consulting in the moon-light cave,
To plan the preservation of the state,
And, when the battle's fury is display'd,
To hover o'er the war with safety and with aid.

LXII

And ours it shall be, when that furious Dane
Lets loose upon thy fields his dogs of prey,
With curb unseen his madness to restrain,
And tease him into torture and dismay;
Maugre the God that led him o'er the main,
Unpunish'd o'er thy land he shall not stray;
King Odin may in spirit fret and rave,
But Mab and her small tribe shall vindicate the brave.

LXIII

Then as a pledge and proof that Fairy-land
Holds thee belov'd, and will thy efforts aid,
Accept, O Chief, a present from my hand,
This magic helm by fairy artists made,
Of virtue that shall make thee well withstand
Malice or mischief levell'd at thy head;
Thy temples once surrounded with its charm,
Impassive shalt thou meet the battle's every harm.

LXXIV

Take too this silver pipe, whose tube, though small,
Blown to a shrilly whistle by thy breath,
Up to thy aid shall conjure and shall call
What sprite thou wishest from earth's cells beneath;
Elf, genie, puny fay, or goblin tall,
Prompt to confound the foe or give him death,
Evok'd from inmost chambers of the ground,
Shall at thy feet appear emergent at the sound.

LXXV

With these assist thee in thy land's defence;
Yet, though with these full puissant be thine arm,
Hope not by single might to sweep from hence
Back to their deeps proud Hungar and his swarm:
Go, seek thy King; and in the walled fence
Whose girdle guards Saint Andrew's bones from harm,
Lodge thee awhile, till Scotland for the war
Rouse up her thousand Chiefs with all their clans afar.

LXXVI

This spoken, from her chair with stately pace
Advancing whither stood at gaze the Thane,
She laid before him with majestic grace
The potent gifts that shall confound the Dane;
The silver whistle with its purple lace
Attach'd, of power each demon to constrain,
And the fair helm, whose length of capilon
Rich o'er the upspringing grass in streamy beauty shone.

LXXVII

These symbols given, the gentle Queen of Fays
With sweet retire majestical withdrew,
Leaving the hero silent in amaze
At these bright gifts so wonderful and new;
One moment glanc'd he at their sparkling blaze,
The next, as down the banks he cast his view,
Nor good Queen Mab, nor fay was to be seen,
Nought but the sunny grass, all goodly, smooth and green.

LXXVIII

Evanish'd quite, suck'd back into the ground,
Was in a moment all that elvish band,
Gone in a huddle down, without a sound,
Through the world's pores to secret Fairy-land;
There, amid groves of pearl-hung trees renown'd,
And shrubberies whose leaves in gold expand,
And silver pools, and streets of emerald gay,
In day-light of their own to frisk their lives away.

LXXIX

Dismounting then where these fair gifts were laid,
The Chief up-rais'd them, wond'ring, from the ground;
He doff d his mortal helm, and in its stead
His temples with th' enchanted casque he crown'd;
The broad paw'd lion seem'd upon his head
To grin in gold and make a furious bound;
And round his breast the purple cord he flung,
Whereto the puissant pipe, that awes the Devil, hung.

LXXX

Thus clad in glory and in power, the Thane
There tarried not, but hasted to be gone;
He twitch'd, anon, his courser's bridle-rein,
His heels' sharp provocation urg'd him on;
And up, Stravithie, thy fair fields again,
And o'er thy heath with flowery furze o'ergrown,
Rapid he rush'd with all his train away,
Towards the fair-fenc'd town wherein the Monarch lay.

END OF THE SECOND CANTO.