Scott's Lady of the Lake

V

The noble stag was pausing now
Upon the mountain’s southern brow,
Where broad extended, far beneath,
The varied realms of fair Menteith.[17 - Or Monteith, a picturesque district of Scotland watered by the river Teith.]
With anxious eye he wander’d o’er
Mountain and meadow, moss and moor,
And ponder’d refuge from his toil,
By far Lochard or Aberfoyle.
But nearer was the copsewood gray,
That waved and wept on Loch Achray,
And mingled with the pine trees blue
On the bold cliffs of Benvenue.
Fresh vigor with the hope return’d,
With flying foot the heath he spurn’d,
Held westward with unwearied race,
And left behind the panting chase.

VI

’Twere long to tell what steeds gave o’er,
As swept the hunt through Cambus-more;[18 - An estate about two miles from Callander on the wooded banks of the Keltie.]
What reins were tighten’d in despair,
When rose Benledi’s ridge in air;
Who flagg’d upon Bochastle’s heath,
Who shunn’d to stem the flooded Teith, —
For twice that day, from shore to shore,
The gallant stag swam stoutly o’er.
Few were the stragglers, following far,
That reach’d the lake of Vennachar;
And when the Brigg[19 - Bridge.] of Turk was won,
The headmost horseman rode alone.

VII

Alone, but with unbated zeal,
That horseman plied the scourge and steel;[20 - Spur.]
For jaded now, and spent with toil,
Emboss’d with foam, and dark with soil,
While every gasp with sobs he drew,
The laboring stag strain’d full in view.
Two dogs of black St. Hubert’s breed,
Unmatch’d for courage, breath, and speed,
Fast on his flying traces came,
And all but won that desperate game;
For, scarce a spear’s length from his haunch,
Vindictive toil’d the bloodhounds stanch,
Nor nearer might the dogs attain,
Nor farther might the quarry strain.
Thus up the margin of the lake,
Between the precipice and brake,[21 - Thicket; underbrush.]
O’er stock[22 - The trunk of a tree.] and rock their race they take.

VIII

The Hunter mark’d that mountain[23 - Ben Venue.] high,
The lone lake’s western boundary,
And deem’d the stag must turn to bay,[24 - “Turn to bay,” i.e., to face an antagonist, when escape is no longer possible.]
Where that huge rampart barr’d the way;
Already glorying in the prize,
Measured his antlers with his eyes;
For the death wound and death halloo,
Muster’d his breath, his whinyard drew; —
But thundering as he came prepared,
With ready arm and weapon bared,
The wily quarry shunn’d the shock,
And turn’d him from the opposing rock;
Then, dashing down a darksome glen,
Soon lost to hound and Hunter’s ken,
In the deep Trosachs’[25 - “The Trosachs” is the name now applied to the valley between Lochs Katrine and Achray.] wildest nook
His solitary refuge took.
There, while close couch’d, the thicket shed
Cold dews and wild flowers on his head,
He heard the baffled dogs in vain
Rave through the hollow pass amain,
Chiding the rocks that yell’d[26 - Echoed back their barks or chidings.] again.

IX

Close on the hounds the Hunter came,
To cheer them on the vanish’d game;
But, stumbling on[27 - In.] the rugged dell,
The gallant horse exhausted fell.
The impatient rider strove in vain
To rouse him with the spur and rein,
For the good steed, his labors o’er,
Stretch’d his stiff limbs, to rise no more;
Then, touch’d with pity and remorse,
He sorrow’d o’er the expiring horse.
“I little thought, when first thy rein
I slack’d upon the banks of Seine,[28 - The river which flows through Paris, France.]
That Highland eagle e’er should feed
On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed!
Woe worth[29 - Be to (from the old verb worthen, “to become”).] the chase, woe worth the day,
That costs thy life, my gallant gray!”

X