Of stature tall, and slender frame, But firmly knit, was Malcolm Græme. The belted plaid and tartan hose Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose; His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, Curl'd closely round his bonnet blue. Train'd to the chase, his eagle eye The ptarmigan in snow could spy: Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, He knew, through Lennox and Menteith; Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe When Malcolm bent his sounding bow; And scarce that doe, though wing'd with fear, Outstripp'd in speed the mountaineer: Right up Ben-Lomond could he press, And not a sob his toil confess. His form accorded with a mind Lively and ardent, frank and kind; A blither heart, till Ellen came, Did never love nor sorrow tame; It danced as lightsome in his breast, As play'd the feather on his crest. Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth, His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, And bards, who saw his features bold, When kindled by the tales of old, Said, were that youth to manhood grown, Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, But quail to that of Malcolm Græme. XXVI. Now back they wend their watery way, And, "O my sire!" did Ellen say, "Why urge thy chase so far astray? And why so late return'd? And why"-- The rest was in her speaking eye. "My child, the chase I follow far, 'Tis mimicry of noble war; And with that gallant pastime reft Were all of Douglas I have left. I met young Malcolm as I stray'd Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade. Nor stray'd I safe; for, all around, Hunters and horsemen scour'd the ground. This youth, though still a royal ward,[139] Risk'd life and land to be my guard, And through the passes of the wood Guided my steps, not unpursued; And Roderick shall his welcome make, Despite old spleen,[140] for Douglas' sake. Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen, Nor peril aught for me agen." [139] "Royal ward," i.e., under the guardianship of the King, Douglas's chief enemy. [140] Feud. XXVII. Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, Redden'd at sight of Malcolm Græme, Yet not in action, word, or eye, Fail'd aught in hospitality. In talk and sport they whiled away The morning of that summer day; But at high noon a courier light Held secret parley with the Knight, Whose moody aspect soon declared That evil were the news he heard. Deep thought seem'd toiling in his head; Yet was the evening banquet made, Ere he assembled round the flame, His mother, Douglas, and the Græme, And Ellen too; then cast around His eyes, then fix'd them on the ground, As studying phrase that might avail Best to convey unpleasant tale. Long with his dagger's hilt he play'd, Then raised his haughty brow, and said:-- XXVIII.