And bards, who saw his features bold,
When kindled by the tales of old,
Said, were that youth to manhood grown,
Not long should Roderick Dhu’s renown
Be foremost voiced by mountain fame,
But quail to that of Malcolm Græme.
XXVI.
Now back they wend their watery way,
And, “O my sire!” did Ellen say,
"Why urge thy chase so far astray?