Works, including the Waverley novels and the poems . lovelier face!23 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 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 trained her pace, — A foot more light, a step more true, Neer from the heath-flower dashed the dew; Een the slight harebell raised its head, Elastic from her airy tread: What though upon her speech there hung The acc
Works, including the Waverley novels and the poems . lovelier face!23 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 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 trained her pace, — A foot more light, a step more true, Neer from the heath-flower dashed the dew; Een the slight harebell raised its head, Elastic from her airy tread: What 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 chieftains daughter seemed the maid;Her satin snood, her silken golden brooch, such birth seldom was a snood amidSuch wild luxuriant ringlets glossy black to shame might bringThe plumage of the ravens wing;And seldom oer a breast so fairMantled a plaid with modest care,24 The Old Oak on Ellens Isle. THE LADY OF THE LAKE And never brooch the folds combined,Above a heart more good and kindness and her worth to spy,You need but gaze on Ellens eye;Not Katrine in her mirror blueGives back the shaggy banks more every free-born glance confessedThe guileless movements of her breast;Whether joy danced in her dark eye,Or woe or pity claimed a filial love was glowing meek devotion poured a prayer,Or tale of injury called forthThe indignant spirit of the only passion unrevealedWith maiden pride the maid not less purely felt the flame; —O, need I tell that passions 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 uttered fell, 25 THE LADY OF THE LAKE The echoes could not catch the
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