The lord of the isles . st of that fatal field, how sudden, fell the fierce De Boune ! XVI. One pitying glance the Monarch sped, Where on the field his foe lay dead; Then gently turnd his palfreys head, And, pacing hack his sober way, Slowly he gaind his own array. There round their King the leaders crowd. And blame his recklessness aloud, That riskd gainst each adventurous spear A life so valued and so dear. His broken weapons shaft surveyd The King, and careless answer made,— My loss may pay my follys tax ; Ive broke my trusty battle-axe. Twas then Fitz-Louis, bending low, Did Isabe
The lord of the isles . st of that fatal field, how sudden, fell the fierce De Boune ! XVI. One pitying glance the Monarch sped, Where on the field his foe lay dead; Then gently turnd his palfreys head, And, pacing hack his sober way, Slowly he gaind his own array. There round their King the leaders crowd. And blame his recklessness aloud, That riskd gainst each adventurous spear A life so valued and so dear. His broken weapons shaft surveyd The King, and careless answer made,— My loss may pay my follys tax ; Ive broke my trusty battle-axe. Twas then Fitz-Louis, bending low, Did Isabels commission show; Edith, disguised, at distance stands, And hides her blushes with her hands. The Monarchs brow has changed its hue, Away the gory axe he threw, Whd to the seeming page he drew, (Hearing wars terrors from his eye. THE LORD 01 THE ISLES Her hand with gentle ease he took,With such a kind protecting look,As to a wreak and timid boy Might speak, that elder brothers caveAnd elder brothers love were XVII. Fear not, he said, young Amadine?Then whisperd, Still that name be thine Fate plays her wonted Amadine, with thee and me,And sends thee here in doubtful soon we are beyond her power;For on this chosen battle-plain,Victor or vanquishd I thou to yonder hill repair;The followers of our host arc there, 258 THE LORD OF THE ISLES. CAS And all who may not weapons hear.— Fitz-Louis, have him in thy care.— Joyful we meet, if all go well; If not, in Arrans holy cell Thon must take part with Isahel; For brave Lord Ronald, too, hath sworn, Not to regain the Maid of Lorn, (The bliss on earth he covets most,) Would he forsake his battle-post, Or shun the fortune that may fall To Bruce, to Scotland, and to all.— But, hark ! some news these trumpets tell; Forgive my haste—farewell—farewell.— And in a lower voice he said, Be of good cheer—farewell, sweet maid!— XVIII. What train of dust, with trumpet-soundAnd glimmering spea
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