That summer morn had Roderick Dhu Survey'd the skirts of Benvenue, And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath, To view the frontiers of Menteith. All backward came with news of truce; Still lay each martial Græme[210] and Bruce,[211] In Rednock[212] courts no horsemen wait, No banner waved on Cardross[213] gate, On Duchray's[214] towers no beacon shone, Nor scared the herons from Loch Con; All seemed at peace.--Now wot ye why The Chieftain, with such anxious eye, Ere to the muster he repair, This western frontier scann'd with care?-- In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, A fair, though cruel, pledge was left; For Douglas, to his promise true, That morning from the isle withdrew, And in a deep sequester'd dell Had sought a low and lonely cell. By many a bard, in Celtic tongue, Has Coir-nan-Uriskin[215] been sung; A softer name the Saxons gave, And called the grot the Goblin-cave. [210] A powerful Lowland family (see Note 1, p. 52). [211] A powerful Lowland family (see Note 1, p. 52). [212] A castle in the Forth valley (see map, p. 2). [213] A castle in the Forth valley (see map, p. 2). [214] A castle in the Forth valley (see map, p. 2). [215] See Note 1, p. 87. XXVI. It was a wild and strange retreat, As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. The dell, upon the mountain's crest, Yawn'd like a gash on warrior's breast; Its trench had stayed full many a rock, Hurl'd by primeval earthquake shock From Benvenue's gray summit wild, And here, in random ruin piled, They frown'd incumbent o'er the spot, And form'd the rugged silvan grot. The oak and birch, with mingled shade, At noontide there a twilight made, Unless when short and sudden shone Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, With such a glimpse as prophet's eye Gains on thy depth, Futurity. No murmur waked the solemn still,[216] Save tinkling of a fountain rill; But when the wind chafed with the lake, A sullen sound would upward break, With dashing hollow voice, that spoke The incessant war of wave and rock. Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway, Seem'd nodding o'er the cavern gray. From such a den the wolf had sprung, In such the wild-cat leaves her young; Yet Douglas and his daughter fair Sought for a space their safety there. Gray Superstition's whisper dread Debarr'd the spot to vulgar tread; For there, she said, did fays resort, And satyrs[217] hold their silvan court, By moonlight tread their mystic maze, And blast the rash beholder's gaze. [216] Stillness. [217] Silvan deities of Greek mythology, with head and body of a man and legs of a goat. XXVII.