"What think I of him?--woe the while That brought such wanderer to our isle! Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 305 For Tine-man forged by fairy lore. What time he leagued, no longer foes, His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow The footstep of a secret foe. 310 If courtly spy hath harbored here, What may we for the Douglas fear? What for this island, deemed of old Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold? If neither spy nor foe, I pray 315 What yet may jealous Roderick say? --Nay, wave not thy disdainful head, Bethink thee of the discord dread, That kindled when at Beltane game Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme; 320 Still, though thy sire the peace renewed, Smolders in Roderick's breast the feud; Beware!--But hark, what sounds are these? My dull ears catch no faltering breeze, No weeping birch, nor aspens wake, 325 Nor breath is dimpling in the lake, Still is the canna's hoary beard, Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard-- And hark again! some pipe of war Sends the bold pibroch from afar." 330 XVI Far up the lengthened lake were spied Four darkening specks upon the tide, That, slow enlarging on the view, Four manned and masted barges grew, And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, 335 Steered full upon the lonely isle; The point of Brianchoil they passed, And, to the windward as they cast, Against the sun they gave to shine The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine. 340 Nearer and nearer as they bear, Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. Now might you see the tartans brave, And plaids and plumage dance and wave; Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 345 As his tough oar the rower plies; See, flashing at each sturdy stroke, The wave ascending into smoke; See the proud pipers on the bow, And mark the gaudy streamers flow 350 From their loud chanters down, and sweep The furrowed bosom of the deep, As, rushing through the lake amain, They plied the ancient Highland strain. XVII