XI.
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itz-James looked round,--yet scarce believedThe witness that his sight received;Such apparition well might seemDelusion of a dreadful dream.Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed,And to his look the Chief replied:'Fear naught--nay, that I need not sayBut--doubt not aught from mine array.Thou art my guest;--I pledged my wordAs far as Coilantogle ford:Nor would I call a clansman's brandFor aid against one valiant hand,Though on our strife lay every valeRent by the Saxon from the Gael.So move we on;--I only meantTo show the reed on which you leant,Deeming this path you might pursueWithout a pass from Roderick Dhu.'They moved;--I said Fitz-James was braveAs ever knight that belted glaive,Yet dare not say that now his bloodKept on its wont and tempered flood,As, following Roderick's stride, he drewThat seeming lonesome pathway through,Which yet by fearful proof was rifeWith lances, that, to take his life,Waited but signal from a guide,So late dishonored and defied.Ever, by stealth, his eye sought roundThe vanished guardians of the ground,And stir'd from copse and heather deepFancy saw spear and broadsword peep,And in the plover's shrilly strainThe signal whistle heard again.Nor breathed he free till far behindThe pass was left; for then they windAlong a wide and level green,Where neither tree nor tuft was seen,Nor rush nor bush of broom was near,To hide a bonnet or a spear.
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