Lady of the lake, and other poems

Contents

PAGE

Life of Sir Walter Scott. By William Chambers, LL.D. v

V The Lady of the Lake 1

I

The stag at eve had drank his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's

rill, And deep his midnight lair had

made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, * The»^ deep-mouth'd bloodhound's

heavy bay Eesounded up the rocky way, And faint, from farther distance

borne, "Were heard the clanging hoof and

horn.

n.

As Chief, who hears his warder call, *' To arms ! the foemen storm the

wall,"

The cntler'd monarch of the waste Sprung from his heathery couch in

hasto.

But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he

SJiook; Like crested leader proud and high, Tos3'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky; A moment gazad adown the dale, A moment snulT 'd the tainted gale, A moment li::t£n' J to t!iG cry, That tMcken'd as the chase djrew nigh ; Then, as the headmost foes appear'd, "With one brave bound the copse he

clear'd, And, stretching forward free and far, Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.

in.

Yell'd on the view the opening pack;

Eoc^, glen, and cavern, paid them back;

To many a mingled sound at once

The awaken'd mountain gave response.

A hundred dogs bay'd deep and strong,

Clatter'd a hundred steeds along,

Their peal the merry horns rung out,

* One of the Grampian chain of mountaiiia at the head of the VaUe^ of Uae Garry,

A hundred voices join'd the shout; "With hark and whoop and wild halloo. No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. Far from the tumult fled the roe, Close in her covert cower'd the doe, The falcon, from her cairn on high, Cast on the rout a wondering eye, Till far beyond her piercing ken The hurricane had swept the glen. Faint and more faint, its failing din Eetum'd from cavern, cliff, and linn. And silence settled, wide and still, On the lone wood and mighty hill.

rv.

Less loud the sounds of sylvan war Disturb'd the heights of TJam-Var, And roused the cavern, where 'tis told, A giant made his den of old; For ere that steep ascent was won, High in his pathway hung the sun, And many a gallant, stay'd perforce, \7as fain to breathe his faltering horse, And of the trackers of the deer, Scarce half the lessening pack was

near; So shrewdly on the mountain side Had the bold burst their mettle tried.

V.

The noble stag was pausing now. Upon the mountain's southern brow, Y/here broad cxtendad, far beneath, The varied realms of fair Menteith. Y/ith anxious eye he wander'd o'er Mountain and meadow, moss and

moor, And ponder'd refuge from his toil. By far Lochard or Aberfoyle, But nearer was the copsewood grey, That waved and wept on Loch-Achray, And mingled with the pine-trees blue On the bold clilTs of Ben venue. Fresh vigour with the hope return'd, Y^ith flying foot the heath be spum'd, Held westward with unwearied race, And left behind the panting chase.

YI.

'Twere long to tell what steeds gave

o'er, As swept the hunt through Cambus-

more;

^COTTS POETICAL WORKS.

"What reins were tighten'd in despair, When rose Benledi's ridge in air;* "Who flagg'd upon Bochastle's heath, Who shun'd to stem the flooded

Teith.t— For twice that day, from shore to

shore.

The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. Few were the stragglers, following far, That reach'd the lake of Venachar; And when the BriggJ of Turk was won, The headmost horseman rode«alone.

vn.

Alone, but with unbated zeal,

That horseman plied the scourge and

steel ; For jaded now, and spent with toil, Emboss'd with foam, and dark with

soil.

While every gasp with sobs he drew, The labouring stag strain'd full in

view.

Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's

breed, Unmatch'd for courage, breath, and

speed, Fast on his flying traces came And all but won that desperate game; For, scarce a spear's length from his

haunch, Vindictive toil'd the bloodhounds

staunch; Nor nearer might the dogs attain. Nor farther might the quarry strain. Thus up the margin of the lake. Between the precipice and brake, O'er stock and rock their race they

take,

vni.

The Hunter rnark'd that mountain

high, The lone lake's western boundary, And deem'd the stag must turn to bay. Where that huge rampart barr'd the

way;

* Eenledi is a li gh mountain on the northwest of (Jaliender. Its name signifies the mountain of God.

t A river Avliich gives its name to the territory of ^lenteith.

+ Brigg, a bridge.

Already glorying in the prize, Measured his antlers with his eyes; For the death-woundand death-halloo, Muster'd his breath, his whinyard

drew ; — But thundering as he came prepared, With ready arm and weapon bared. The wily quarry shunn'd the shock, And turn'd him from the opposing

rock; ^

Then, dashing down a darksome glen, Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken. In the deep Trosach's wildest nook His solitary refuge took. There, while close couch'd, the thicket

shed Cold dews and wild-flowers on his

head, He heard the baffled dogs in vain Rave through the hollow pass amain. Chiding the rocks that yell'd again.

rs.

Close on the hounds the hunter came, To cheer them on the vanish'd game; But, stumbling in the rugged dell, The gallant horse exhausted fell. The impatient rider strove in vain To rouse him with the spur and rein. For the good steed, his labours o'er, Stretch'd his stifif limbs, to rise no

more; Then, touch'd with pity and remorse, He sorrow'd o'er the expiring horse. " I little thought, when first thy rein I slack d upon the banks of Seine, That Highland eagle e'er should feed On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed! Woe worth the chase, woe worth the

day, That costs thy life, my gallant grey 1"

X.

Then through the dell his horn resounds.

From vain pursuit to call the hounds.

Back limp'd, with slow and crippled pace,

The sulky leaders of the chase;

Close to their master's sidetheypress

With drooping tail and humbled crest;

But still the dingle's hollow throat

Tim LADY OF THE LAKE,

Prolong'd the swelling bugle-note. The owlets started from their dream, The eaglesanswered with theirscream, Bound and around the sounds were

cast, Till echo seem'd an answering blast; And on the hunter hied his way, To join some comrades of the day; Yet often paused, so strange the road, Sowondrouswerethe scenes it show'd,

XI.

The western waves of ebbing day Roll'd o'er the glen their level way; Each purple peak, each flinty spire. Was bathed in floods of living fire. But not a setting beam could glow "Within the dark ravines below. Where twined the path in shadow hid, Eound many a rocky pyramid, Shooting abruptly from the dell Its thunder-splinter'd pinnacle; Bound many an insulated mass. The native bulwarks of the pass. Huge as the tower* which builders

vain Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. The rocky summits, split and rent, Form'd turret, dome, or battlement, Cr seem'd fantastically set With cupola or minaret, Wild crests as pagod ever deck'd. Or mosque of Eastern architect. Nor were these earth-born castles

bare, Nor lack'd they many a banner fair; For, from their shiver'd brows dis-

play'd, Far o'er the unfathomable glade, All twinkling with the dewdrops

sheen, The brier-rose fell in streamers green. And creeping shrubs, of thousand

dy^, Waved in the west-wind's summer

sighs.

xn.

Boon nature scatter' d, free and wild. Each plant or flower, the mountain's child,

* The Tower of Babel.— Genesis xi. 1—9.

Here eglantine embalm'd the air, Hawthorn and hazel mingled there; The primrose pale and violet flower, Found in each cliff a narrow bower; Fox-glove and night-shade, side by

side, Emblems of punishment and pride, Group 'd their dark hues with every

stain The weather-beaten crags retain. With bows that quaked at every

breath, Grey birch and aspen wept beneath; Aloft, the ash and warrior oak Cast anchor in the rifted rock; And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung His shatter'd trvmk, and frequent

flung.

Where seem'd the cliffs to meet on

high.

His bows athwart the narrow' d sky. Highest of all, where white peaks

glanced.

Where glist'ning streamers waved

and danced.

The wanderer's eye could barely view The summer heaven's delicious blue; So wondrous wild, the whole might

seem The scenery of a fairy dream,

xm.

Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep A narrow inlet, still and deep. Affording scarce such breadth of

brim.

As served the wild duck's brood to

swim.

Lost for a space, through thickets

veering.

But broader when again appearing, Tall rocks and tufted knolls their

face Could on the dark-blue mirror trace; And farther as the hunter stray'd, Still broader sweeps its channels

made.

The shaggy mounds no longer stood, Emerging from entangled wood. But, wave-encircled, seem'd to float, Like castle girdled with its moat; Yet broader floods extending still

SCOTT'S POETICAL WORKS.

Divide them from their parent hill, lilleach, retiring, claims to be An islet in an inland sea.

XIV.

And now, to issue from the glen, No pathway meets the wanderer's

ken.

Unless he climb, with footing nice, A fair jDrojecting precipice. , The broom's tough roots his ladder

made, The hazel saplings lent their aid; And thus an airy point he won, Where, gleaming with the setting

sun.

One burnish'd sheet of living gold, Loch Katrine lay beneath him roll'd, In all her length far winding lay, With promontory, creek, and bay, A nd islands that, empurpled bright. Floated amid the livelier light. And mountains, that like giants

stand, To sentinel enchanted land. High on the south, hugp Benvenue Down en the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls and mounds, confusedly hurl'd, The fragments of an earlier world; A wildering forest feather'd o'er His ruin'd sides and summit hoar, While on the north, through middle

air, Ben-an heaved high his forehead

bare.

XV.

From the steep promontory gazed The stranger, raptured and amazed. And, "Wliat a scene were here," he

cried, "For princely pomp, or churchman's

pride !

On this bold brow, a lordly tower; In that soft vale, a lady's bower; On yondor meadow, far away, The turrets of a cloister grey; How blithely might the bugle-horn Chide, on the lake, the lingering

morn I How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute

Chime, when the groves were still

and mute !

And, when the midnight moon should

lave Her forehead in the silver wave. How solemn on the ear would come The holy matins' distant hum. While the deep peal's commanding

tone Should wake, in yonder islet lone, A sainted hermit from his cell. To drop a bead with every knell — And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, Should each bewilder'd stranger call To friendly feast, and lighted hall.

XVI.

" Blithe were it then to wander here ! But now, — beshrew yon nimble

deer, — Like that same hermit's, thin and

spare.

The copsG must give my evening

fare ; Some mossy bank my couch must be. Some rustling oak my canopy. Yet pass wo that ; the war and chase Give little choice of resting-place ; — A summer night, in greenwood spent, Were but to-morrow's merriment : But hosts may in these wilds abound. Such as are better miss'd than found ; To meet with Highland plunderers

here, Were worse than loss of steed or

deer. — I am alone ; — my bugle strain May call some straggler of the train ; Or, fall the worse that may betide, Ere now this falchion has been

tried."

xvn.

But scarce again his horn he wound. When lo ! forth starting at the sound. From iinderneath an aged oak, That slanted from the islet rock, A damsel guider of its way, A little skiff shot to the bay. That round the promontory steep Led its deep line in graceful sweep» Eddying in almost viewless wave, The weeping willow-twig to lave.

THE LADY OF THE LAKE.

And kiss, with whispering sound and

slow, The beach of pebbles bright as snow. The boat had touch'd this silver

strand, Just as the Hunter left his stand, And stood conceal'd amid the brake, To view this Lady of the Lake. The maiden paused, as if again She thought to catch the distant

strain.

With head up-raised, and look intent. And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back, and lips apart. Like monument of Grecian art, Li listening mood, she seem'd to

stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand,

xvin.

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form, or lovelier face ! What though the sun, with ardent

frown.

Had slightly tinged her cheek with

brown, — The sportive toil, which, short and

light, Had dyed her glowing hue so bright. Served too in hastier swell to show Short glimpses of a breast of snow : What though no rule of courtly grace To measured mood had train'd her

pace, — A foot more light, a step more true, Ne'er from the heath-tlower dash'd

the dew ; E'en the slight hare-bell raised its

head, ''ilastic from her airy tread : \ /hat though upon her speech there

hung The accents of the mountain tongue, Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, The listener held his breath to hear !

XIX.

A Chieftain's daughter seem'd the

maid ; Her satin snood,* her silken plaid,

* Snood, the fillet wora round the liair of

Her golden brooch, such birth be-

tray'd.

And seldom was a snood amid Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, Whose glossy black to shame might

bring The plumage of the raven's wing ; And seldom o'er a breast so fair, Mantled a plaid with modest care, And never brooch the folds combined Above a heart more good and kind. Her kindness and her worth to spy. You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; Not Katrine, in her mirror blue. Gives back the shaggy banks more

true, Than every free-born glance con-

fess'd The guileless movements of her

breast ; Whether joy danced in her dark eye. Or woe or pity claim'd a sigh. Or filial love was glowing there, Or meek devotion pour'tl a prayer. Or tale of injury call'd forth The indignant spirit of the North. One only passion unreveal'd. With maiden pride the maid conceal'd, Yet not less purely felt the flame ; — O need tell that passion's name !

XX.

Impatient of the silent horn. Now on the gale her voice was borne ; — " Father!" she cried ; the rocks around Loved to prolong the gentle sound. Awhile she paused, no answer came, — " Malcolm, was thine the blast? " the

name Less resolutely utter'd fell. The echoes could not catch the swell. " A stranger I," the Huntsman said, Advancing from the hazel shade. The maid, alarmed, wi':h hasty oar, Push'd her light shallop from the

shore.

And when a space was gain'd between. Closer she drew her bosom's screen; (So forth the startled swan would

swing,

SCOTT S POETICAL WORKS.

So turn to prune his ruffled wing.) Then safe, though llutter'd and

amazed, She paused, and on the stranger gazed. Not his the form, nor hia the eye, That youthful maidens wont to fly.

XXI.

On his bold visage middle age Had slightly prebs'd its signet sace Yet had noo quench 'd the open truth And fiery vehemence of youth ; Forward and frolic gleo was t'-iere, The will to do, the soul to dare, The sparklinj glance, soon, blown to

fire, Of hasty love, or headlong ire. His limbs were cast in manly mould, For hardy sports or contest bold; And though in ijeaceful garb arrr^y'd, And weaponless, except hli blade, Eis stately mien aa v/cil iraplled A h-'^h-born heart, a martial pride, A3 ii! a Earon's crest ho v/oro, And sheathed in armour trodo the

shore.

Sligh::-ng the petty need he show'd, Ho told 01 his benighted road; Ei3 ready speech llow'd fair and free, In phraco of [gentlest courtecy; Yet seem'd that tone, and gesture

bland, Less used to sue than to command.

XXIL

A while the maid the stranger eyed, And, reassured, ct Icngtxi replied, That Highland halls were open s. Ill To wildcr'd vranderers cf the hill. "ITor think you unexpected como To yon lone 'isle, our desert home; Before the heath had lost the dew. This morn, a couch was puU'd for you; On yonder mountain's purple head Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled. And our broad nets have swept the

racro.

To furnish forth your evening

cheer." — "ITow, by the rood, my lovely maid, Your courtecy has crr'd," ho Gaid; " ITo right have I to claim, misplaced,

The welcome of expected guest. A wanderer, here by fortune tost, My way, my friends, my courser lost, I ne'er before, believe me, fair. Have ever drawn your mountain air. Till on this lake's romantic strand, I lound a fay in fairy land !'^ —

xxin.

" I well believe," the maid replied, As her light skiff approach'd the

side, — " I well believe, that ne'er before Your foot has trod Loch Latrine's

shore; But yet, as far g3 yesternight, Old Allan-bane foretold your plight, — A gray-hair'd sire, v/hoso eye intent \7a3 en tae vision'd future bent. lie GiiW your steed, a dappled grey. Lie dead beneath the birchen way; . Paintod exact yo^r form and mien. Your hunting suit of Lincoln green, That tassell'd horn so gaily gilt, That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, That cap with heron plumage trim, And yon two hounds so dark and grim. -le bade that ail should leady bo, 2o grace a guest of fair degree ; Jut light I held his prophecy. And deem'd it was my father's horn, \/hose echoes o'er the lake were

borne."

xxrv.

The stranger srailed : — " Gince to

your homo A dsstined errant-knight I come. Announced by prop-iet sooth and old, Doom'd, doubtlesj, for achievement

bold, ill lightly front each high emprise, x-'or one kind glance of those bright

eyes.

Permit me, first, the task to guide Your fairy frigate o'er the tide. " The maid, wit-i smile suppress'd and

The toil unwonted saw him try ; I?or F.eldom sure, ii e'er before. Ilia noble hand had grasp'd an oar : Yet with main strength his strokes he drew,

TEE LADY OF THE LAKE.

And o'er the lake the shallop flew ; With heads erect, and whimpering

cry, The hounds behind their passage ply. Nor frequent does tlio Lright oar

break The dark'ning mirror of the lake, Until the rocky isle they reach. And moor their shallop on the Ijeaeh.

XXV.

The stranger view'd the shore around, 'Twas ail so close with copsewood

bound, Nor traclc nor pathway might declare That human foot frequented there, Until the mountain-maiden show'd A clambering unsuspected road, That winded through the tangled

screen.

And open'd on a narrow green, "Where weeping birch end willow

round "With their long £bre3 swept the

ground.

Here, for retreat in dangerous hour, Some chief had framed a rustic bower.

XZTI.

It was a lodge of ample size,

But strange of structure and device ;

Of such materials, a3 around

The workmsm's hand had readiest

found.

Lopp'd off their boughs, their hoar

trunks bared.

And by the hatchet rudely squared, To give the walls their destined

height.

The sturdy oak and ash unite ; Y/hile moss and clay and leaves combined To fence each crevice from the wind. The lighter pine-trees, over-head. Their slender length for rafters

spread, And wither' d heath and rushes dry Supplied a russet canopy. Due westward, fronting to the green, A rural portico was seen, Aloft on native pillars borne, Of mountain fir, with bark unshorn.

YtHiere Ellen's hand had taught to

twine The ivy and Idasan vine. The clematis, the favour'd flower "Which boasts the name of virginbower.

And every hardy plant could bear Loch Katrine's keen and searching

air.

An instant in this porch she staid, And gaily to the stranger said, " On heaven and on thy lady call, And enter the eu chanted hall !"

xx"vn.

"My hope, my heaven, my trust

must bo, My gentle guide, in followin;^ thee." lie cross'd the threshold — and a clang Of angry steel that instant rang. To his bold brow his spirit rush'd, 3ut soon for vain alarm he blush'd, Y/hen on the floor he saw display'd. Cause cf the din, a naked blade Dropp'd from the sheath, that ceire-

less flung Upon a stag's huge antlers swung ; Tor all around, the walls to grace, ilung trophies of the fight or chase : A target there, a bugle here, A battle-axe, a hunting-spear. And broadswords, bows, and arrows

store, "With the tusk'd trophies of the boar. Hero grins the wolf as when he died. And there the wild-cat's brindled

hide The frontlet of the elk adorns. Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ; Pennons and flags defaced and

stain 'd.

That blackening streaks of blood re-

tain'd.

And dccr-skins, dappled, dim, and

white, "With otter's fur and seal's unite, In rude and uncouth tapestry ell. To garnish forth the sylvan hall.

XXYHL The wondering stranger round him •

gazed, And next the fallen weapon raised: — lo

SCOTT S POETICAL WOBES.

Few were the axms whose sinewy

strength SufSced to stretch it forth at length, And as the brand he poised and

sway'd, "I never knew but one," he said, " Whose stalwart arm might brook to

wield A blade like this in battle-field. She sigh'd, then smiled and took the

word: "You see the guardian champion's

sword : As light it trembles in his hand, As in my grasp a hazel wand ; My sire's tall form might grace the

part Of Ferragus or Ascabart; But in the absent giant's hold Are women now, and menials old. "

XXIX.

The mistress of the mansion came, Mature of age, a graceful dame; ^Vhose easy step and stately port Had well become a princely court. To whom, though more than kindred

knew, Young Ellen gave a mother's due. I ieet welcome to her guest she made, And every courteous rite was paid, That hospitality could claim. Though all unask'd his birth and

name.

Such then the reverence to a guest, That fellest foe might join the feast. And from his deadliest foeman's door Unquestion'd turn, the banquet o'er. At length his rank the stranger

names, "The Knight of Snowdoun, James

Fitz-James ; Lord of a barren heritage. Which his brave sires, from age to

age, Ey their good swords had held with

toil; His siro had fallen in such turmoil. And he, God wot, was forced to stand Oft for his right with blade in hand. This morning, with Lord Moray's

train,

He chased a stalwart stag in vain, Outstripp'd his comrades, miss'd the

deer.

Lost his good steed, and wander'd

here. "

XXX.

Fain would the knight in turn require The name and state of Ellen's sire. Well show'd the elder lady's mien, That courts and cities she had seen; Ellen, though more her looks dis-

play'd The simple grace of sylvan maid. In speech and gesture, form and face, Ghow'd she was come of gentle race. 'Twere strange, in ruder rank to find, Such looks, such manners, and such

mind.

Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun

gave.

Dame Margaret heard with silence

grave ; Or Eilen, innocently gay, Turn'd all inquiry light away: — "Weird women we! by dale and

down We dwell, afar from tower and town. V.^e stem the flood, we ride the blast, On wandering knights our spells we

cast; While viewless minstrels touch the

string, 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we

sing."

She sung, and stiU a harp unseen Fiil'd up the symphony between.

XXXI.

So7ig.

"Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er,

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Dream of battled fields no more,

Days of danger, nijhts of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall,

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing.

Fairy strains of music fall.

Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rect ! thy warfare o er, Dream of fighting fields no more:

TH^ LADY OF THE LAKH.

It

Sleep the sleep that knows not

breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.

" No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Armour's clang, or war-steed champing, Trump nor pibroch summon here Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.

Yet the lark's shrill fife may come

At the day-break from tlie fallow. And the bittern sound his drum,

Booming from the sedgy shallow. Euder sounds shall none be near. Guards nor warders challenge here. Here's no war-steed's neigh and

champing, Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping."

XXXII.

She paused — then, blushing, led the

To grace the stranger of the day. Her mellow notes avvhiie prolong The cadence of the flowing song, Till to her lips in measured frame Th*e minstrel verse spontaneous came.

Song continued.

" Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done, While our slumbrous spells assail

ye,

Dreara not, with the rising sun, Bugles here shjdl sound reveille.

Sleep ! the deer is in. his den;

deep! thy hounds are by theo lying;

Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen. How thy gallant steed lay dying.

Huntsman, rest ! thy ciiase is done,

Think not of the rising sun,

For at dawning to assail ye.

Here no bugles sound reveille."

XXXIII.

The hall was clear' d — the stranger's

bed Was there of mountain heather

spread.

Where oft a hundred guests had lain, And dream'd their forest sports again. But vainly did the heath-flower shed

Its moorland fragrance round his

head; Not Ellen's spell had lull'd to rest The fever of his troubled breast. In broken dreams the image rose Of varied perils, pains, and woes: His steed now flounders in the brake. Now sinks his barge upon the lake ; Now leader oi a broken host, His standard falls, his honour's lost. Then,— from my couch may heavenly

might Chase that worst phantom of the

night !— Again return'd the scenes of youth, Of confldent undoubting truth; Again his soul he interchanged With friends whose hearts were long

estranged.

They come, in dim procession lei, The cold, the faithless, and the dead; As warm each hand, each brow as gay, As if they parted yesterday. And doubt distracts him at the view. were his senses false or true ! Dream'd he of death, or broken vow, Or is it all a vision now ?

xxxrv.

At length, with Ellen in a grove He seeja'd to walk, and speak of love; She listen'd with a blush and sigh, His suit was warm, his hopes were

high.

He sought her yielded hand to clasp. And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : The phantom's sex was changed and

gone, Upon its head a helmet shone; Glowly enlarged to giant size, With darken' d cheek and threatening

eyes.

The grisly visage, stern and hoar, To Eilen still a likeness bore. — He woke, and panting with affrig':!:, Recali'd the vision of the nig!:t. The hearth's decaying brands v/ i i

red.

And deep and dusky lustre shed. Half showing, half concealing, all The uncouth trophies of the hall. 'Mid those the stranger fixed his eye,

SCOTT'S POETICAL WORKS.

Where tliafc liuge falcliion hung on high,

And thouc;hts on thoughts, a countless throng,

Until, the giddy whirl to cure,

He rose, and sought the moonshine pure.

XXXV.

The wild-rose, eglantine, and broom, "Wasted around taeir ricii perfume: The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm, The aspens slept beneatj tuo calm; The silver light, with quivering glance, Play'd on th3 water'3 still expanse, — Wild were tao h^art w-iose passions'

Bway Could rage beneath the sober ray ! He fait iti calm, taat warrior guest. While thui Le communed With his

breast: — " Why is it, at each turn I trace Some memory of taat exiled race ! Can I not mountain-maiden spy, But she must bear the Douglas eye? Can I not view a Highland brand, But it must match the Douglas hand ? Can I not frame a fever' d dream, But still tlio Douglas is the theme? I'll dream no more — by manly mind Not even in sleep is w.U resign'd. My midnight orisons said o'er, 1 11 turn to rest, and dream no more." His midnight orisons ho told, A prayer with every bead of gold, Consign' d to heaven his cares and

woes.

And sunk in undisturb'd repose; Until the heath-cock shrilly crew. And morning dawn'd on Benvenue.