. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. om saddlebow his pistol determined was his look !His charger with the spurs he strook —All scattered backward as he came,For all knew Bertram Risingham !Three bounds that noble courser gave;The first has reached the central nave,The second cleared the chancel wide,The third —he was at Wycliffes levelled at the barons the report — the bullet sped —And to his long account and lastWithout a groan dark Oswald past! 332 SCOTTS POETICAL WORKS. All was so quick that it might see
. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. om saddlebow his pistol determined was his look !His charger with the spurs he strook —All scattered backward as he came,For all knew Bertram Risingham !Three bounds that noble courser gave;The first has reached the central nave,The second cleared the chancel wide,The third —he was at Wycliffes levelled at the barons the report — the bullet sped —And to his long account and lastWithout a groan dark Oswald past! 332 SCOTTS POETICAL WORKS. All was so quick that it might seemA flash of lightning or a dream. XXXIII. While yet the smoke the deed conceals,Bertram his ready charger wheels;But floundered on the pavement-floorThe steed and down the rider bore, Gainst hacking brands and stabbing spears,Thrice from assailants shook him free,Once gained his feet and twice his tenfold odds oppressed at length,Despite his struggles and his took a hundred mortal woundsAs mute as fox mongst mangling hounds ;And when he died his parting groan. And, bursting in the headlong sway,The faithless saddle-girths gave was while he toiled him to be freed,And with the rein to raise the steed,That from amazements iron tranceAll Wycliffes soldiers waked at , halberd, musket-butt, their blowsHailed upon Bertram as he rose ;A score of pikes with each a woundBore down and pinned him to the ground ;But still his struggling force he rears, Had more of laugliter than of moan !They gazedas when a lion hunters scarcely trust their bend their weapons on the slainLest the grim king should rouse again !Then blow and insult some from the trunk the head had hewed,But Basils voice the deed forbade ;A mantle oer the corse he laid : — Fell as he was in act and left no bolder heart behind : ROKEBY. 333 Then give him, for a soldier meet,A soldiers cloak for winding sheet. No more of death and dying m
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