XIX.

'Twas then that One, whose lofty look

Nor labour dull'd nor terror shook,

Thus to the Leader spoke;

"Brother, how hopest thou to abide The fury of this wilder'd tide,

Or how avoid the rock's rude side,

Until the day has broke?

Didst thou not mark the vessel reel,

With quivering planks, and groaning keel,

At the last billow's shock?

Yet how of better counsel tell,

Though here thou see'st poor Isabel

Half dead with want and fear;

For look on sea, or look on land,

Or

yon dark sky, on every hand

Despair and death are near.

For her alone I grieve-on me

Danger sits light by land and sea,

I follow where thou wilt; Either to bide the tempest's lour, Or wend to yon unfriendly tower,

Or rush amid their naval power,

With war-cry wake their wassail-hour,

And die with hand on hilt.".

XX.

That elder Leader's calm reply
In steady voice was given,

"In man's most dark extremity

Oft succour dawns from Heaven.

Edward, trim thou the shatter'd sail,
The helm be mine, and down the gale
Let our free course be driven;

So shall we 'scape the western bay,
The hostile fleet, the unequal fray,
So safely hold our vessel's way

Beneath the Castle wall;

For if a hope of safety rest,

'Tis on the sacred name of guest,

Who seeks for shelter, storm-distress'd,

Within a chieftain's hall.

If not-it best beseems our worth,

Our name, our right, our lofty birth,

By noble hands to fall."—

XXI.

The helm, to his strong arm consign'd,

Gave the reef'd sail to meet the wind,

And on her alter'd way,

Fierce bounding, forward sprung the ship,

Like greyhound starting from the slip

To seize his flying prey.

Awaked before the rushing prow,
The mimic fires of ocean glow,

Those lightnings of the wave;

Wild sparkles crest the broken tides,

And, flashing round, the vessel's sides

With elvish lustre lave,.

While, far behind, their livid light

To the dark billows of the night

A gloomy splendour gave.

It seems as if old Ocean shakes

From his dark brow the livid flakes

In envious pageantry,

To match the meteor light that streaks Grim Hecla's midnight sky.

XXII.

Nor lack'd they steadier light to keep

Their course upon the darken'd deep;

Artornish, on her frowning steep

"Twixt cloud and ocean hung,

Glanced with a thousand lights of glee,

And landward far, and far to sea,

Her festal radiance flung.

By that blithe beacon-light they steer'd, Whose lustre mingled well

With the pale beam that now appear'd,

As the cold Moon her head uprear'd

Above the eastern Fell.

XXIII.

Thus guided, on their course they bore
Until they near'd the mainland shore,
When frequent on the hollow blast
Wild shouts of merriment were cast,
And wind and wave and sea-birds'

With wassail sounds in concert vie,

Like funeral shrieks with revelry,

Or like the battle-shout

cry

By peasants heard from cliffs on high,
When Triumph, Rage, and Agony,

Madden the fight and rout.