. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. ce — That lady was so brave;The fouler grew his goblin hue, The darker grew the cave. She crossed him thrice, that lady bold;He rose beneath her hand The fairest knight on Scottish brother, Ethert Brand ! Merry it is in good greenwood,When the mavis and merle are singing, But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray,When all the bells were rinsing-. Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed, A stranger climbed the steepy glade ; His martial step, his stately mien. His hunting-suit of Lincoln green,
. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. ce — That lady was so brave;The fouler grew his goblin hue, The darker grew the cave. She crossed him thrice, that lady bold;He rose beneath her hand The fairest knight on Scottish brother, Ethert Brand ! Merry it is in good greenwood,When the mavis and merle are singing, But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray,When all the bells were rinsing-. Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed, A stranger climbed the steepy glade ; His martial step, his stately mien. His hunting-suit of Lincoln green, His eagle glance, remembrance claims — T is Snowdouns Knight, t is James Fitz- beheld as in a , starting,scarce suppressed a scream: O stranger ! in such hour of fearWhat evil hap has brought thee here ? An evil hap how can it beThat bids me look again on thee ?By promise bound, my former guideMet me betimes this marshalled over bank and bourneThe happy path of my return. The happy path ! — what! said he naughtOf war, of battle to be 2IO SCOTTS POETICAL WORKS. Of guarded pass ? No, by my faith !Nor saw I aught could augur scathe. O haste thee, Allan, to the kern:Yonder his tartans I discern ;Learn thou his purpose, and conjureThat he will guide the stranger sure! -What prompted thee, unhappy man ?The meanest serf in Rodericks clanHad not been bribed, by love or fear,Unknown to him to guide thee here. Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, Since it is worthy care from thee; Yet life I hold but idle breath When love or honor s weighed with death. Then let me profit by my chance, And speak my purpose bold at once. I come to bear thee from a wild Where neer before such blossom smiled. By this soft hand to lead thee far From frantic scenes of feud and war. Near Bochastle my horses wait; They bear us soon to Stirling gate. I 11 place thee in a lovely bower, I 11 guard thee like a tender flower — O liush, Sir Knight! t were female a
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Keywords: ., bookauthorrolfewjw, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookyear1888
