. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. ram beheld the dewdrop almost touched his iron heart: I did not think there lived, he said, One who would tear for Bertram loosened then his baldrics hold,A buckle broad of massive gold ; — Of all the spoil that paid his painsBut this with Risingham remains ; ROKEBY. 329 And this, dear Edmund, thou shalt take,And wear it long for Bertrams more — to Mortham speed amain ;Farewell! and turn thee not again. The night has yielded to the far the hours of prime are
. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. ram beheld the dewdrop almost touched his iron heart: I did not think there lived, he said, One who would tear for Bertram loosened then his baldrics hold,A buckle broad of massive gold ; — Of all the spoil that paid his painsBut this with Risingham remains ; ROKEBY. 329 And this, dear Edmund, thou shalt take,And wear it long for Bertrams more — to Mortham speed amain ;Farewell! and turn thee not again. The night has yielded to the far the hours of prime are , who since the dawn of dayHad cursed his messengers delay,Impatient questioned now his train. Alas, my lord ! full ill to-day May my young master brook the way ! The leech has spoke with grave alarm Of unseen hurt, of secret harm. Of sorrow lurking at the heart. That mars and lets his healing art. Tush ! tell not me ! — Romantic boys Pine themselves sick for airy toys, I will find cure for Wilfrid soon ; Bid him for Eglistone be boune, And quick ! — I hear the dull death-drum. Was Denzils son returned again ? It chanced there answered of the crew A menial who young Edmund knew: No son of Denzil this, he said ; A peasant boy from Winston glade, For song and minstrelsy renowned And knavish pranks the hamlets round. • Not Denzils son ! — from Winston vale ! — Then it was false, that specious tale ; Or worse — he hath despatched the youth To show to Morthams lord its truth. Fool that I was ! — but t is too late ; — This is the very turn of fate ! — The tale, or true or false, relies On Denzils evidence ! — He dies ! — Ho ! Provost Marshal! instantly Lead Denzil to the gallows-tree ! Allow him not a parting word; Short be the shrift and sure the cord! Then let his gory head appall Marauders from the castle-wall. Lead forth thy guard, that duty done, With best despatch to Eglistone. — Basil, tell Wilfrid he must straight Attend me at the castle-gate. Al
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Keywords: ., bookauthorrolfewjw, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookyear1888
