. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. Talk not to me, fierce Lorn replied, Of odds or match ! —when Comyn died,Three daggers clashed within his side !Talk not to me of sheltering Church of God saw Comyn fall!On Gods own altar streamed his blood,While oer my prostrate kinsman stoodThe ruthless murderer — een as now —With armed hand and scornful brow ! —Up, all who love me ! blow on blow !And lay the outlawed felons low ! Then up sprang many a mainland lord,Obedient to their chieftains arm is high in Kinloch-
. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. Talk not to me, fierce Lorn replied, Of odds or match ! —when Comyn died,Three daggers clashed within his side !Talk not to me of sheltering Church of God saw Comyn fall!On Gods own altar streamed his blood,While oer my prostrate kinsman stoodThe ruthless murderer — een as now —With armed hand and scornful brow ! —Up, all who love me ! blow on blow !And lay the outlawed felons low ! Then up sprang many a mainland lord,Obedient to their chieftains arm is high in Kinloch-Allines blade is Murthoks dirk has left its sheath,And clenched is Dermids hand of muttered threats of vengeance swellInto a wild and warlike yell;Onward they press with weapons high,The affrighted females shriek and fly,And, Scodand, then thy brightest rayHad darkened ere its noon of every chief of birth and fameThat from the Isles of Ocean cameAt Ronalds side that hour withstoodFierce Lorns relentless thirst for blood. THE LORD OF THE ISLES. 379. XVII. Brave Torquil from Dunvegan high,Lord of the misty hills of Skye,Mac-Niel, wild Baras ancient thane,Duart of bold Clan-Gillians strain,Fergus of Cannas castled bay,Mac-Duffith, Lord of Colonsay,Soon as they saw the broadswords ready weapons rose at once,More prompt that many an ancient feud,Full oft suppressed, full oft renewed,Glowed twixt the chieftains of Argyle,And many a lord of oceans was the scene — each sword was bare,Back streamed each chieftains shaggy gloomy opposition set,Eyes, hands, and brandished weapons met;Blue gleaming oer the social board,Flashed to the torches many a sword:And soon those bridal lights may shineOn purple blood for rosy wine. While thus for blows and death prepared,Each heart was up, each weapon foot advanced, —a surly pauseStill reverenced hospitable menaced violence, but alikeReluctant each the first
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Keywords: ., bookauthorrolfewjw, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookyear1888
