AFTER
having traversed many a weary rood of, to him,
before untrodden ground, the venerable
minstrel of the house of Wallace, exhausted by
fatigue, sat down on the declivity of a steep
craig. The burning beams of the midday sun now
beat upon the rocks, but the overshadowing
foliage afforded him shelter, and a few
berries from the brambles, which knit
themselves over the path he had yet to
explore, with a draught of water from a
friendly burn, offered themselves to revive
his enfeebled limbs. Insufficient as they
appeared, he took them, blessing Heaven for
sending even these, and strengthened by half
an hour’s rest, again he grasped his staff
to pursue his way.
After
breaking a passage through the entangled
shrubs that grew across the only possible
footing in this solitary wilderness, he went
along the side of the expanding stream, which
at every turning of the rocks increased in
depth and violence. The rills from above, and
other mountain brooks, pouring from abrupt
falls down the craigs, covered him with spray,
and intercepted his passage. Finding it
impracticable to proceed through the rushing
torrent of a cataract, whose distant roarings
might have intimidated even a younger
adventurer, he turned from its tumbling waters
which burst from his sight, and crept on his
hands and knees up the opposite acclivity,
catching by the fern and other weeds to stay
him from falling back into the flood below.
Prodigious craggy heights towered above his
head as he ascended; while the rolling clouds
which canopied their summits, seemed
descending to wrap him in their "fleecy
skirts;" or the projecting rocks bending
over the waters of the glen, left him only a
narrow shelf in the cliff, along which he
crept till it brought him to the mouth of a
cavern.
He
must either enter it or return the way he
came, or attempt the descent of overhanging
precipices, which nothing could surmount but
the pinions of their native birds. Above him
was the mountain. Retread his footsteps until
he had seen his beloved master, he was
resolved not to do—to perish in these glens
would be more tolerable to him, for while he
moved forward, hope, even in the arms of
death, would cheer him with the whisper that
he was in the path of duty. He therefore
entered the cavity, and passing on, soon
perceived an aperture, through which emerging
on the other side, he found himself again on
the margin of the river. Having attained a
wider bed, it left him a still narrower
causeway, to perform the remainder of his
journey.
Huge
masses of rock, canopied with a thick umbrage
of firs, beech, and weeping-birch, closed over
the glen and almost excluded the light of day.
But more anxious, as he calculated by the
increased rapidity of the stream he must now
be approaching the great fall near his master’s
concealment, Halbert redoubled his speed. But
an unlooked-for obstacle baffled his progress.
A growing gloom he had not observed in the
sky-excluded valley, having entirely
overspread the heavens, at this moment
suddenly discharged itself, amidst peals of
thunder, in heavy floods of rain upon his
head.
Fearful
of being overwhelmed by the streams, which now
on all sides crossed his path, he kept upon
the edge of the river, to be as far as
possible from the influence of their violence.
And thus he proceeded, slowly and with
trepidation, through numerous defiles; and
under the plunge of many a mountain-torrent,
till the augmented storm of a world of waters,
dashing from side to side, and boiling up with
the noise and fury of the contending elements
above, told him he was indeed not far from the
fall of Corie Lynn.
The
spray was spread in so thick a mist over the
glen he knew not how to advance. A step
further might be on the firm earth; but more
probably illusive, and dash him into the
roaring Lynn, where he would be ingulfed at
once in its furious whirlpool. He paused and
looked around. The rain had ceased, but the
thunder still rolled at a distance, and echoed
tremendously from the surrounding rocks.
Halbert shook his grey locks, streaming with
wet, and looked towards the sun, now gilding
with its last rays the vast sheets of falling
water.
"This
is thine hour, my master ! "exclaimed the
old man; "and surely I am too near the
Lynn to be far from thee!"
With
these words he raised the pipe that bung at
his breast, and blew three strains of the
appointed air. In former days it used to call
from her bower, that "fair star of
evening," the beauteous Marion, now
departed for ever into her native heaven. The
notes trembled as his agitated breath breathed
them into the instrument; but feeble as they
were, and though the roar of the cataract
might have prevented their reaching a less
attentive ear than that of Wallace, yet he
sprang from the innermost recess under the
fall, and dashing through its rushing waters,
the next instant was at the side of Halbert.
"Faithful
creature!" cried he, catching him in his
arms, with all the joy of that moment which
ends the anxious wish to learn tidings of what
is dearest in the world, "how fares my
Marion?"
"I
am weary;" cried the heart-stricken old
man: "take me within your sanctuary, and
I will tell you all."
Wallace
perceived that his time-worn servant was
indeed exhausted; and knowing the toils and
hazards of the perilous track he must have
passed over in his way to this fearful
solitude; also remembering how, as he sat in
his shelter, he had himself dreaded the
effects of the storm upon so aged a traveller,
he no longer wondered at the dispirited tone
of his greeting, and readily accounted for the
pale countenance and tremulous step which at
first had excited his alarm.
Giving
the old man his hand he led him with caution
to the brink of the Lynn; and then folding him
in his arms, clashed with him through the
tumbling water into the cavern he had chosen
for his asylum. [This
cavern yet exists, and is still honoured in
the country as "his asylum."—(1809.)]
Halbert sunk against its rocky side, and
putting forth his hand to catch some of the
water as it fell, drew a few drops to his
parched lips, and swallowed them. After this
light refreshment, he breathed a little and
turned his eyes upon his anxious master.
"Are
you sufficiently recovered, Halbert, to tell
me how you left my dearest Marion?"
Halbert
dreaded to see the animated light which now
cheered him from the eyes of his master,
overclouded with the Cimmerian horrors his
story must unfold: he evaded a direct reply:
"I saw your guest in safety; I saw him
and the iron box on their way to Bothwell."
"What!"
inquired Wallace, "were we mistaken? was
not the Earl dead when we looked into the well
?" Halbert replied in the negative, and
was proceeding with a circumstantial account
of his recovery and his departure when Wallace
interrupted him.
"But
what of my wife, Halbert? why tell me of
others before of her? She whose safety and
remembrance are now my sole comfort!"
"Oh,
my dear lord!" cried Halbert, throwing
himself on his knees in a paroxysm of mental
agony; "she remembers you where best her
prayers can be heard. She kneels for her
beloved Wallace, before the throne of God
!"
"Halbert!"
cried Sir William, in a low and fearful voice,
"what would you say? My Marion—speak!"
tell me in one word, she lives !"
"In
heaven !"
At
this confirmation of a sudden terror, imbibed
from the ambiguous words of Halbert, and which
his fond heart would not allow him to
acknowledge to himself, Wallace covered his
face with his hands and fell with a deep groan
against the side of the cavern. The horrid
idea of premature maternal pains, occasioned
by anguish for him; of her consequent death,
involving perhaps that of her infant, struck
him to the soul: a mist seemed passing over
his eyes; life was receding; and gladly did he
believe he felt his spirit on the eve of
joining hers.
In
having declared that the idol of his master’s
head no longer existed for him in this world,
Halbert thought he had revealed the worst, and
he went on. "Her latest breath was spent
in prayer for you. ‘My Wallace’ were the
last words her angel spirit uttered as it
issued from her bleeding wounds."
The
cry that burst from the heart of Wallace, as
he started on his feet at this horrible
disclosure, seemed to pierce through all the
recesses of the glen; and with an
instantaneous and dismal return was re-echoed
from rock to rock. Halbert threw his arms
round his master’s knees. The frantic blaze
of his eyes struck him with affright.
"Hear me, my lord; for the sake of your
wife, now an angel hovering near you, hear
what I have to say."
Wallace
looked around with a wild countenance.
"My Marion near me! Blessed spirit! Oh,
my murdered wife! my unborn babe! Who made
those wounds?" cried he, catching Halbert’s
arm with a tremendous though unconscious
grasp, "tell me who had the heart to aim
a blow at that angel’s life ?"
"The
Governor of Lanark," replied Halbert.
"How?
for what?" demanded Wallace, with the
terrific glare of madness shooting from his
eyes. "My wife! my wife! what had she
done?"
"He
came at the head of a band of ruffians, and
seizing my lady, commanded her on the peril of
her life, to declare where you and the Earl of
Mar and the box of treasure were concealed. My
lady persisted to refuse him information, and
in a deadly rage he plunged his sword into her
breast." Wallace clenched his hands over
his face, and Halbert went on. "Before he
aimed a second blow, I had broken from the men
who held me, and thrown myself on her bosom;
but all could not save her: the villain’s
sword had penetrated her heart!"
"Great
God!" exclaimed Wallace, "dost thou
hear this murder ?" His hands were
stretched towards heaven; then falling on his
knees, with his eyes fixed, "Give me
power, Almighty Judge !" cried he,
"to assert thy justice! Let me avenge
this angel’s blood, and then take me to thy
mercy!"
"My
gracious master" cried Halbert, seeing
him rise with a stern composure, "here is
the fatal sword: the blood on it is sacred,
and I brought it to you."
Wallace
took it in his hand. He gazed at it, touched
it, and kissed it frantically. The blade was
hardly yet dry, and the ensanguined hue came
of upon the pressure. "Marion!
Marion!" cried he, "is it thine?
Does thy blood stain my lip ?" He paused
for a moment, leaning his burning forehead
against the fatal blade; then looking up with
a terrific smile, "Beloved of my soul!
never shall this sword leave my hand till it
has drunk the life-blood of thy
murderer."
"What
is it you intend, my Lord !" cried
Halbert, viewing with increased alarm the
resolute ferocity which now, blazing from
every part of his countenance, seemed to
dilate his figure with more than mortal
daring. "What can you do? Your single arm——"
"I
am not single—God is with me. I am his
avenger. Now tremble, tyranny! I come to hurl
thee down!" At the word he sprang from
the cavern’s mouth, and had already reached
the topmost cliff when the piteous cries of
Halbert penetrated his ear; they recalled him
to recollection, and returning to his faithful
servant, he tried to soothe his fears, and
spoke in a composed though determined tone.
"I will lead you from this solitude to
the mountains, where the shepherds of
Ellerslie are tending their flocks. With them
you will find a refuge, till you have strength
to reach Bothwell castle. Lord Mar will
protect you for my sake."
Halbert
now remembered the bugle, and putting it into
his master’s hand, with its accompanying
message, asked for some testimony in return,
that the Earl might know he had delivered it
safely; "Even a lock of your precious
hair, my beloved master, will be
sufficient."
"Thou
shalt have it, severed from my head by this
accursed steel;" answered Wallace, taking
off his bonnet, and letting his amber locks
fall in tresses on his shoulders. Halbert
burst into a fresh flood of tears, for he
remembered how often it had been the delight
of Marion to comb these bright tresses and to
twist them round her ivory fingers. Wallace
looked up as the old man’s sobs became
audible, and read his thoughts: "It will
never be again, Halbert," cried he, and
with a firm grasp of the sword be cut off a
large handful of his hair.
"Marion;
thy blood hath marked it!" exclaimed he;
"and every hair in my head shall be dyed
of the same hue, before this sword is sheathed
upon thy murderers. Here, Halbert,"
continued he, knotting it together," take
this to the Earl of Mar: it is all, most
likely, he will ever see again of William
WalIace. Should I fall tell him to look on
that, and in my wrongs read the future
miseries of Scotland, and remember that God
armeth the patriot’s band. Let him act on
that conviction, and Scotland may yet be
free."
Halbert
placed the lock in his bosom, but again
repeated his entreaties, that his master would
accompany him to Bothwell castle. He urged the
consolation he would meet from the good Earl’s
friendship.
"If
he indeed regard me;" returned Wallace,
"for my sake let him cherish you. My
consolations must come from a higher hand: I
go where it directs. If I live, you shall see
me again; but twilight approaches—we must
away. The sun must not rise again upon
Heselrigge."
Halbert
now followed the rapid steps of Wallace, who,
assisting the feeble limbs of his faithful
servant, drew him up the precipitous side of
the Lynn, [The
cavern which sheltered Sir William Wallace,
near Corie Lynn, is yet revered by the people.]
and then leaping from rock to rock, awaited
with impatience the slower advances of the
poor old harper, as he crept round a circuit
of overhanging cliffs, to join him on the
summit of the craigs.
Together
they struck into the most inaccessible defiles
of the mountains, and proceeded, till on
discerning smoke whitening with its ascending
curls the black sides of the impending rocks,
Wallace saw himself near the objects of his
search. He sprang on a high cliff projecting
over this mountain-valley, and blowing his
bugle with a few notes of the well-known pibroch
[Pibroch, a
martial piece of music adapted to the Highland
pipe. Each great family has one peculiarly its
own.—(1809.)]
of Lanarkshire, was answered by the
reverberation of a thousand echoes.
At
the loved sounds which had not dared to visit
their ears since the Scottish standard was
lowered to Edward, the hills seemed teeming
with life. Men rushed from their fastnesses,
and women with their babes eagerly followed,
to see whence sprung a summons so dear to
every Scottish heart. Wallace stood on the
cliff, like the newly-aroused genius of his
country: his long plaid floated afar, and his
glittering hair, streaming on the blast,
seemed to mingle with the golden fires which
shot from the heavens. Wallace raised his eyes—a
clash as of the tumult of contending armies
filled the sky, and flames, and flashing
steel, and the horrid red of battle streamed
from the clouds upon the hills. [The late Duke
of Gordon exhibited a similar scene to Prince
Leopold, when His Royal Highness visited
Gordon Castle, his "hills teeming with
life."—(1830.)]
"Scotsmen
!" cried Wallace, waving the fatal sword,
which blazed in the glare of these northern
lights, like a flaming brand, "behold how
the heavens cry aloud to you! I come, in the
midst of their fires, to call you to
vengeance. I come in the name of all ye hold
dear, of the wives of your bosoms, and the
children in their arms, to tell you the
poniard of England is unsheathed—innocence
and age and infancy fall before it. With this
sword, last night, did Heselrigge, the English
tyrant of Lanark, break into my house, and
murder my wife!"
The
shriek of horror that burst from every mouth,
interrupted Wallace. "Vengeance !
vengeance!" was the cry of the men, while
tumultuous lamentations for the "sweet
Lady of Ellerslie," filled the air from
the women.
Wallace
sprang from the cliff into the midst of his
brave countrymen: "Follow me, then, to
strike the mortal blow."
"Lead
on!" cried a vigorous old man. "I
drew this stout claymore last in the battle of
Largs.[In the battle of Largs, Sir Malcolm
Wallace, the father of Wallace, fell
gloriously fighting against the Danes.—(1830.)]
Life and Alexander was then the word of
victory: now, ye accursed Southrons, ye shall
meet the slogen [Slogen, so the war-word was
termed—-(1809.)] of Death
and Lady Marion."
"Death
and Lady Marion!" was echoed with shouts
from mouth to mouth. Every sword was drawn;
and those hardy peasants who owned none,
seizing the instruments of pasturage, armed
themselves with wolf-spears, pickaxes, forks,
and scythes.
Sixty
resolute men now arranged themselves around
their chief. Wallace, whose widowed heart
turned icy cold at the dreadful slogen of his
Marion’s name, more fiercely grasped his
sword, and murmured to himself, "From
this hour may Scotland date her liberty, or
Wallace return no more! My faithful
friends;" cried he, turning to his men,
and placing his plumed bonnet on his head;
"let the spirits of your fathers inspire
your souls! ye go to assert that freedom for
which they died. Before the moon sets, the
tyrant of Lanark must fall in blood."
"Death
and Lady Marion!" was the pealing answer
that echoed from the hills.
Wallace
again sprang on the cliffs. His brave peasants
followed him; and taking their rapid march by
a near cut through a hitherto unexplored
defile of the Cartlane craigs, leaping chasms,
and climbing perpendicular rocks, they
suffered no obstacles to impede their steps,
while thus rushing onward like lions to their
pray.