The mistress of the mansion came, Mature of age, a graceful dame; Whose easy step and stately port Had well become a princely court; To whom, though more than kindred knew,[70] Young Ellen gave a mother's due. Meet welcome to her guest she made, And every courteous rite was paid That hospitality could claim, Though all unask'd his birth and name. Such then the reverence to a guest, That fellest[71] foe might join the feast, And from his deadliest foeman's door Unquestion'd turn, the banquet o'er. At length his rank the stranger names, "The Knight of Snowdoun,[72] James Fitz-James;[73] Lord of a barren heritage,[74] Which his brave sires, from age to age, By their good swords had held with toil; His sire had fall'n in such turmoil, And he, God wot,[75] was forced to stand Oft for his right with blade in hand. This morning with Lord Moray's[76] train He chased a stalwart stag in vain, Outstripp'd his comrades, miss'd the deer, Lost his good steed, and wander'd here." [70] Dame Margaret was Roderick Dhu's mother, but had acted as mother to Ellen, and held a higher place in her affections than the ties of blood would warrant. [71] Bitterest. [72] An old name of Stirling Castle. [73] Fitz means "son" in Norman French. [74] "By the misfortunes of the earlier Jameses and the internal feuds of the Scottish chiefs, the kingly power had become little more than a name." [75] Knows. [76] A half-brother of James V. (James Fitz-James). XXX. Fain would the Knight in turn require The name and state of Ellen's sire. Well show'd the elder lady's mien That courts and cities she had seen; Ellen, though more her looks display'd The simple grace of silvan maid, In speech and gesture, form and face, Show'd she was come of gentle race. 'Twere strange in ruder rank to find Such looks, such manners, and such mind. Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, Dame Margaret heard with silence grave; Or Ellen, innocently gay, Turn'd all inquiry light away:-- "Weird women we! by dale and down[77] We dwell, afar from tower and town. We stem the flood, we ride the blast, On wandering knights our spells we cast; While viewless minstrels touch the string, 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing." She sung, and still a harp unseen Fill'd up the symphony between. [77] Hilly or undulating land. XXXI. SONG. "Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking: Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing.[78] Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more: Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.