. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. th the tusked trophies of the grins the wolf as when he died,And there the wild-cats brindled hideThe frontlet of the elk mantles oer the bisons horns ; Pennons and flags defaced and blackening streaks of blood deer-skins. dapi)led. dun, and white,With otters fur and seals rude and uncouth tapestry garnish forth the sylvan hall. The wondering stranger round him gazed. And next the fallen weapon raised : — Few were the arms whose sinewy streng
. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. th the tusked trophies of the grins the wolf as when he died,And there the wild-cats brindled hideThe frontlet of the elk mantles oer the bisons horns ; Pennons and flags defaced and blackening streaks of blood deer-skins. dapi)led. dun, and white,With otters fur and seals rude and uncouth tapestry garnish forth the sylvan hall. The wondering stranger round him gazed. And next the fallen weapon raised : — Few were the arms whose sinewy strength .Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. And as the brand he poised and swayed, I never knew^ but one, lie said, Wliose stalwart arm might brook to wield A blade like this in battle-field. She sighed, then smiled and took the word: You see the guardian champions sword ; As light it trembles in his hand As in my grasp a hazel wand : Mv sires tall form might grace the part of Ferragus or Ascabart, But in the absent giants hold Are women now, and menials old. THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 165. The mistress of the mansion came,Mature of age, a graceful dame,Whose easy step and stately portHad well become a princely court,To whom, though more than kindred knew,Young Ellen gave a mothers welcome to her guest she made,And every courteous rite was hospitality could claim,Though all unasked his birth and then the reverence to a fellest foe might join the feast,And from his deadliest foemans doorUnquestioned turn, the banquet 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 their good swords had held with toil;His sire had fallen in such turmoil, And he, God wot, was forced to standOft for his right with blade in morning with Lord Morays trainHe chased a stalwart stag in his comrades, missed the deer,Lost his good steed,
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Keywords: ., bookauthorrolfewjw, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookyear1888
