XXVIII.
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kindly heart had brave Fitz-James;Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims;And now, with mingled grief and ire,He saw the murdered maid expire.'God, in my need, be my relief,As I wreak this on yonder Chief!'A lock from Blanche's tresses fairHe blended with her bridegroom's hair;The mingled braid in blood he dyed,And placed it on his bonnet-side:'By Him whose word is truth, I swear,No other favour will I wear,Till this sad token I imbrueIn the best blood of Roderick Dhu!--But hark! what means yon faint halloo?The chase is up,--but they shall know,The stag at bay 's a dangerous foe.'Barred from the known but guarded way,Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray,And oft must change his desperate track,By stream and precipice turned back.Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length,From lack of food and loss of strengthHe couched him in a thicket hoarAnd thought his toils and perils o'er:--'Of all my rash adventures past,This frantic feat must prove the last!Who e'er so mad but might have guessedThat all this Highland hornet's nestWould muster up in swarms so soonAs e'er they heard of bands at Doune?--Like bloodhounds now they search me out,--Hark, to the whistle and the shout!--If farther through the wilds I go,I only fall upon the foe:I'll couch me here till evening gray,Then darkling try my dangerous way.'
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