. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. came,Like wolves before the levin , mid their howling conclave glanced the thunderbolt of rushed on — but Harpool claspedHis knees, although in death he gasped,His falling corpse before him flung,And round the trammelled ruffian then the soldiers filled the dome,And shouting charged the felons homeSo fiercely that in panic dreadThey broke, they yielded, fell, or fled,Bertrams stern voice they heed no more,Though heard above the battles roar;While, tramplin
. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. came,Like wolves before the levin , mid their howling conclave glanced the thunderbolt of rushed on — but Harpool claspedHis knees, although in death he gasped,His falling corpse before him flung,And round the trammelled ruffian then the soldiers filled the dome,And shouting charged the felons homeSo fiercely that in panic dreadThey broke, they yielded, fell, or fled,Bertrams stern voice they heed no more,Though heard above the battles roar;While, trampling down the dying strove with volleyed threat and banIn scorn of odds, in fates despite,To rally up the desperate fight. Soon murkier clouds the hall enfoldThan eer from battle-thunders rolled,So dense the combatants scarce knowTo aim or to avoid the and blindfold grows the fight ?But soon shall dawn a dismal light!Mid cries and clashing arms there cameThe hollow sound of rushing flame ;New horrors on the tumult direArise — the castle is on fire ! ROKEBY. 321. Doubtful if chance had cast the brandOr trantic Bertrams desperate saw — for frequent brokeFrom the dim casements gusts of smoke,Yon tower, which late so clear definedOn the fair hemisphere reclinedThat, pencilled on its azure eye could count each embrasure,Now, swathed within the sweeping cloud,Seems giant-spectre in his shroud ; Till, from each loop-hole flashing light,A spout of fire shines ruddy bright,And, gathering to united glare,Streams high into the midnight air ;A dismal beacon, far and wideThat wakened Gretas slumbering all beneath, through gallery longAnd pendent arch, the fire flashed strong,Snatching whatever could maintain,Raise, or extend its furious reign; 322 SCOTTS POETICAL WORKS. Startling with closer cause of dreadThe females who the conflict fled,And now rushed forth upon the plain,Filling the air with clamors vain. XXXV. But ceased not yet
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