II.

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, His axe and bow beside him lay, For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood A wakeful sentinel he stood. Hark!--on the rock a footstep rung, And instant to his arms he sprung. 'Stand, or thou diest!--What, Malise?--soon Art thou returned from Braes of Doune. By thy keen step and glance I know, Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe.'-- For while the Fiery Cross tried on, On distant scout had Malise gone.-- 'Where sleeps the Chief?' the henchman said. 'Apart, in yonder misty glade; To his lone couch I'll be your guide.'-- Then called a slumberer by his side, And stirred him with his slackened bow,-- 'Up, up, Glentarkin! rouse thee, ho! We seek the Chieftain; on the track Keep eagle watch till I come back.'