THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. Walter Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       Forbear your mirth and rude alarm,

       For none shall do them shame or harm.—

       ‘Hear ye his boast?’ cried John of Brent,

       Ever to strife and jangling bent;

       ‘Shall he strike doe beside our lodge,

       And yet the jealous niggard grudge

       To pay the forester his fee?

       I’ll have my share howe’er it be,

       Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee.’

       Bertram his forward step withstood;

       And, burning in his vengeful mood,

       Old Allan, though unfit for strife,

       Laid hand upon his dagger-knife;

       But Ellen boldly stepped between,

       And dropped at once the tartan screen:—

       So, from his morning cloud, appears

       The sun of May through summer tears.

       The savage soldiery, amazed,

       As on descended angel gazed;

       Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed,

       Stood half admiring, half ashamed.

       VIII

      Boldly she spoke: ‘Soldiers, attend!

       My father was the soldier’s friend,

       Cheered him in camps, in marches led,

       And with him in the battle bled.

       Not from the valiant or the strong

       Should exile’s daughter suffer wrong.’

       Answered De Brent, most forward still

       In every feat or good or ill:

       ‘I shame me of the part I played;

       And thou an outlaw’s child, poor maid!

       An outlaw I by forest laws,

       And merry Needwood knows the cause.

       Poor Rose,—if Rose be living now,’—

       He wiped his iron eye and brow,—

       ‘Must bear such age, I think, as thou.—

       Hear ye, my mates! I go to call

       The Captain of our watch to hall:

       There lies my halberd on the floor;

       And he that steps my halberd o’er,

       To do the maid injurious part,

       My shaft shall quiver in his heart!

       Beware loose speech, or jesting rough;

       Ye all know John de Brent. Enough.’

       IX

      Their Captain came, a gallant young,—

       Of Tullibardine’s house he sprung,—

       Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight;

       Gay was his mien, his humor light

       And, though by courtesy controlled,

       Forward his speech, his bearing bold.

       The highborn maiden ill could brook

       The scanning of his curious look

       And dauntless eye:—and yet, in sooth

       Young Lewis was a generous youth;

       But Ellen’s lovely face and mien

       Ill suited to the garb and scene,

       Might lightly bear construction strange,

       And give loose fancy scope to range.

       ‘Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid!

       Come ye to seek a champion’s aid,

       On palfrey white, with harper hoar,

       Like errant damosel of yore?

       Does thy high quest a knight require,

       Or may the venture suit a squire?’

       Her dark eye flashed;—she paused and sighed:—

       ‘O what have I to do with pride!—

       Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife,

       A suppliant for a father’s life,

       I crave an audience of the King.

       Behold, to back my suit, a ring,

       The royal pledge of grateful claims,

       Given by the Monarch to FitzJames.’

       X

      The signet-ring young Lewis took

       With deep respect and altered look,

       And said: ‘This ring our duties own;

       And pardon, if to worth unknown,

       In semblance mean obscurely veiled,

       Lady, in aught my folly failed.

       Soon as the day flings wide his gates,

       The King shall know what suitor waits.

       Please you meanwhile in fitting bower

       Repose you till his waking hour.

       Female attendance shall obey

       Your hest, for service or array.

       Permit I marshal you the way.’

       But, ere she followed, with the grace

       And open bounty of her race,

       She bade her slender purse be shared

       Among the soldiers of the guard.

       The rest with thanks their guerdon took,

       But Brent, with shy and awkward look,

       On the reluctant maiden’s hold

       Forced bluntly back the proffered gold:—

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