Poetry > Lady of the lake

Canto III.
THE GATHERING.
129
Then, like the billow in his course,
That far to seaward finds his source,
And flings to shore his muster’d force,
Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse.
“ Woe to the traitor, woe!”
Ben-an’s grey scalp the accents knew,
The joyous wolf from covert drew,
The exulting eagle scream’d afar,—
They knew the voice of Alpine’s war.
X.
The shout was hush’d on lake and fell,
The monk resumed his mutter’d spell:
Dismal and low its accents came,
The while he scathed the Cross with flame;
And the few words that reach’d the air,
Although the holiest name was there,1
Had more of blasphemy than prayer.
But when he shook above the crowd
Its kindled points, he spoke aloud:—
“ Woe to the wretch who fails to rear
At this dread sign the ready spear!
For, as the flames this symbol sear,
His home, the refuge of his fear,
A kindred fate shall know;
Far o’er its roof the volumed flame
Clan-Alpine’s vengeance shall proclaim,
l [MS.—“Although the holy name was there.*!
VIII.
I