Chapter 21

"'Revenge! revenge!" the Saxons cried, The Gaels' exulting shout replied. Despite the elemental rage, Again they hurried to engage; But, ere they closed in desperate fight, Bloody with spurring came a knight, Sprung from his horse, and from a crag Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. Clarion and trumpet by his side Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, While, in the Monarch's name, afar A herald's voice forbade the war, For Bothwell's lord and Roderick bold Were both, he said, in captive hold.'— But here the lay made sudden stand, The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand! Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy: At first, the Chieftain, to the chime, With lifted hand kept feeble time; That motion ceased,—yet feeling strong Varied his look as changed the song; At length, no more his deafened ear The minstrel melody can hear; His face grows sharp,—his hands are clenched' As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched; Set are his teeth, his fading eye Is sternly fixed on vacancy; Thus, motionless and moanless, drew His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu!— Old Allan-bane looked on aghast, While grim and still his spirit passed; But when he saw that life was fled, He poured his wailing o'er the dead.