History of the Clan MacLean from its first settlement at Duard Castle, in the Isle of Mull, to the present period

Poetry on or About the MacLeans.
441
Loch Awe, that laughed to the laughing sun,
As stormily they kissed.
" Cold sun," she said, " and bitter bliss.
Dear love, be witness: never Uiss
Of man shall mar the print of this ! "
A heavy freight bore down that day
The Cladich ferrj'-boat,
And one that saw it had liefer seen
It founder, I think, than float.
" Better a bride so foully wed
"Were bedded here in the lake," he said.
But the lake would none of them, bride or
groom.
Or scurvj' train, and tossed,
'Twixt Cladich ferry and Brander Pass,
The boat that crossed and crossed;
And the eyes that hung on the throat of the
pass
Saw, blocking the way of love, the mass
Of dark Ben Cruacban, or ere they turned
In wrath from the path of men ;
And the way-worn bride, by forest and flood.
Through moss and reedy fen.
Went, forced on her way in the teeth of the
wind
By the men of Mull who were trooping
behind.
They crossed the sound; the dim isle seems
Adrift in the wind and rain.
As cold in the shadow of Castle Duard
Its sodden shore they gain,
But the iron click of the stanchioned gate
Kings home like the closing jaws of fate.
Her bower-maidens had busked the bride,
The feast was long and loud,
But she scarce had sat at the board more still
Had she sat there in her shroud.
And her courage failing for wearihead:
"'Tis a far cry to Loch Awe," she said.
Part II.
The wassail had reached its stormy height,
The feast was over in hall.
When there came and stood at the lady's side
A gloomy seneschal;
As he pointed the way to a turret near
She knew that it led to the bride chambere.
And she that was rose of fair Argyle —
A white rose she was then 1 —
Stood up and waited no second sign.
But bowed to the rovstering men,
And passed with her bower-maids out of the
hall
I' the lead of the wordless seneschal.
Then some who noted her proud and pale
Bent laughing over the board:
"She is white as a widow's callant," they said,
" Who should whet a maiden-sword."
And in sooth the Lady Elizabeth
Had blithelier followed the feet of death
Than the form which, fronting the torch's
glare.
Cast a giant shade on the turret stair.
And when she stood in her bridal bower.
She turned to her maidens twain :
"No hand but this of mine may dress
The bride of the red MacLean;
So lend me but your prayers this night.
And fare ye well till the fair daylight."
She cast her garments one by one.
Alone as she stood there;
She was to sight no summer flower
But a woman deadly fair.
When forth she drew the golden comb
And loosed the golden hair
Which sheathed her body to her knee, —
A ringed and burnished panoplj'.
Then, as a swimmer, with her arms
The amber flood she spurned
To either side, and in her hand
She took a gem that burned —
That rose and fell upon her heart
As a thing that bore in its life a part.
'Twas a golden dragon in Jewelled mail
That lay betwixt breast and breast
Over that gentle lady's heart.
Couched as a lance in rest;
And that cunning sample of goldsmith's viiork,
It was the handle of a dirk.
She drew it forth of its leathern sheath.
And shB felt its steely edge.
Then gave some drops of her quick young
blood
To its point, as if in pledge,
Ere she wound her hair in a silken thong.
And the dirk in that golden chain and
strong.
She laid the dragon again to sleep
In its balmy place of rest:
O God, that a home so soft and fair
Should harbor such a guest !