. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. I plight mine honor, oath, and wordThat, to thy native strengths, each advantage shalt thou standThat aids thee now to guard thy land. Dark lightning flashed from Rodericks eye Soars thy presumption, then, so a wretched kern ye slew,Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ?He yields not, he. to man nor Fate !Thou addst but fuel to my hate : —My clansmans blood demands revenge. I thank thee, Roderick, for the word!It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ;For I have sworn this braid to sta
. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. I plight mine honor, oath, and wordThat, to thy native strengths, each advantage shalt thou standThat aids thee now to guard thy land. Dark lightning flashed from Rodericks eye Soars thy presumption, then, so a wretched kern ye slew,Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ?He yields not, he. to man nor Fate !Thou addst but fuel to my hate : —My clansmans blood demands revenge. I thank thee, Roderick, for the word!It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ;For I have sworn this braid to stainIn the best blood that warms thy , truce, farewell! and, ruth, begone ! —Yet think not that by thee Chief ! can courtesy be shown ;Though not from copse, or heath, or at my whistle clansmen this small horn one feeble blastWould fearful odds against thee fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt —We try this quarrel hilt to hilt. 2 24 SCOTTS POETICAL Then each at once his falchion drew,Each on the ground his scabbard threw,Each looked to sun and stream and plainAs what they neer might see again ;Then foot and point and eye opposed,In dubious strife they darkly closed. Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu,That on the field his targe he threw,Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hideHad death so often dashed aside ;For, trained abroad his arms to wield,Fitz-Jamess blade was sword and practised every pass and ward,To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ;While less expert, though stronger Gael maintained unequal times in closing strife they thrice the Saxonblade drank blood ;No stinted draught, no scanty tide,The gushing flood the tartans dyed. Fierce Roderick felt the fatal showered his blows like wintry rain ;And, as firm rock or castle-roofAgainst the winter shower is proof,The foe, invulnerable his wild rage by steady skill;Till, at advantage taen, his br
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Keywords: ., bookauthorrolfewjw, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookyear1888
