Old Allan follow'd to the strand, (Such was the Douglas's command,) And anxious told, how, on the morn, The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, The Fiery Cross[162] should circle o'er Dale, glen, and valley, down, and moor. Much were the peril to the Græme, From those who to the signal came; Far up the lake 'twere safest land, Himself would row him to the strand. He gave his counsel to the wind, While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind, Round dirk and pouch and broadsword roll'd, His ample plaid in tighten'd fold, And stripp'd his limbs to such array As best might suit the watery way,-- [162] See Note 4, p. 78. XXXVII. Then spoke abrupt: "Farewell to thee, Pattern of old fidelity!" The Minstrel's hand he kindly press'd,-- "Oh! could I point a place of rest! My sovereign holds in ward my land, My uncle leads my vassal band; To tame his foes, his friends to aid, Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. Yet, if there be one faithful Græme Who loves the Chieftain of his name, Not long shall honor'd Douglas dwell, Like hunted stag, in mountain cell; Nor, ere yon pride-swoll'n robber dare,-- I may not give the rest to air! Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him naught, Not the poor service of a boat, To waft me to yon mountain side." Then plunged he in the flashing tide. Bold o'er the flood his head he bore, And stoutly steer'd him from the shore; And Allan strain'd his anxious eye, Far 'mid the lake his form to spy, Darkening across each puny wave, To which the moon her silver gave. Fast as the cormorant could skim, The swimmer plied each active limb; Then landing in the moonlight dell, Loud shouted, of his weal to tell. The Minstrel heard the far halloo, And joyful from the shore withdrew. CANTO THIRD. THE GATHERING. I. Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore, Who danced our infancy upon their knee, And told our marveling boyhood legends store, Of their strange ventures happ'd[163] by land or sea, How are they blotted from the things that be! How few, all weak and wither'd of their force, Wait on the verge of dark eternity, Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless course. Yet live there still who[164] can remember well, How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell, And solitary heath, the signal knew; And fast the faithful clan around him drew, What time[165] the warning note was keenly wound, What time aloft their kindred banner flew, While clamorous war pipes yell'd the gathering sound, And while the Fiery Cross[166] glanced, like a meteor, round. [163] "Ventures happ'd," i.e., adventures which happened. [164] Those who. [165] "What time," i.e., when.