The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed with a careful revision of the text . sorrow, fair Kirkwall! —Thence oft he marked fierce Pentland if grim Odin rode her wave,And watched the whilst, with visage paleAnd throbbing heart, the struggling sail;For all of wonderful and wildHad rapture for the lonely child, XXII. And much of wild and wonderfulIn these rude isles might Fancy cull ;For thither came in times afarStern Lochlins sons of rovinjr war. Of chiefs who, guided through the gloomBy the pale death-lights of the tomb,Ransacked the graves of warriors old,Their falchions w
The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed with a careful revision of the text . sorrow, fair Kirkwall! —Thence oft he marked fierce Pentland if grim Odin rode her wave,And watched the whilst, with visage paleAnd throbbing heart, the struggling sail;For all of wonderful and wildHad rapture for the lonely child, XXII. And much of wild and wonderfulIn these rude isles might Fancy cull ;For thither came in times afarStern Lochlins sons of rovinjr war. Of chiefs who, guided through the gloomBy the pale death-lights of the tomb,Ransacked the graves of warriors old,Their falchions wrenched from corpses hold,Waked the deaf tomb with wars alarms,And bade the dead arise to arms !W^ith war and wonder all on flame,To Roslins bowers young Harold came,Where, by sweet glen and greenwood tree,He learned a milder minstrelsy ;Yet something of the Northern spellMixed with the softer numbers well. XXIII,HAROLD. O, listen, listen, ladies gay ! No haughty feat of arms I tell;Soft is the note, and sad the lav, That mourns the lovely Rosabella. THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 55. Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! And, gentle ladye, deign to stay !Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. The blackening wave is edged with white; To inch and rock the sea-mews fly;The fishers have heard the Water Sprite, Whose screams forebode that wreck isnigh. Last night the gifted Seer did viewA wet shroud swathed round ladye gay; Then stay thee, fair, in Ravensheuch :Why cross the gloomy firth T is not because Lord Lindesays heirTo-night at Roslin leads the ball, But that my ladye-mother thereSits lonely in her castle-hall. T is not because the ring they ride,And Lindesay at the ring rides well, But that my sire the wine will chide,If tis not filled by Rosabelle. Oer Roslin all that dreary night A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ; T was broader than the watch-fire redder than the bright moonbeam. It glared on Roslins castled rudd
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Keywords: ., bookauthorrolfewjw, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookyear1888
