X.
ELLEN.
“No, Allan, no! Pretext so kind
My wakeful terrors could not blind.
When in such tender tone, yet grave,
Douglas a parting blessing gave,
The tear that glisten’d in his eye
Drown’d not his purpose fix’d and high.
My soul, though feminine and weak,
Can image his; e’en as the lake,
Itself disturb’d by slightest stroke,
Reflects the invulnerable rock.
He hears report of battle rife,
He deems himself the cause of strife.
I saw him redden, when the theme
Turn’d, Allan, on thine idle dream
Of Malcolm Græme in fetters bound,
Which I, thou saidst, about him wound.
Think’st thou he trow’d[236] thine omen aught?
Oh no! ’twas apprehensive thought
For the kind youth,—for Roderick too—
(Let me be just) that friend so true;
In danger both, and in our cause!
Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause.
Why else that solemn warning given,
‘If not on earth, we meet in heaven?’
Why else, to Cambus-kenneth’s fane,[237]
If eve return him not again,
Am I to hie, and make me known?
Alas! he goes to Scotland’s throne,
Buys his friend’s safety with his own;
He goes to do—what I had done,
Had Douglas’ daughter been his son!”—