The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed with a careful revision of the text . n might his toil have spared In travelling so that a messenger from heavenIn vain to James had counsel given Against the English war;And, closer questioned, thus he toldA tale which chronicles of oldIn Scottish story have enrolled : — Sir SabtB llintiEsags JTalr. Of all the palaces so fair, Built for the royal dwellingIn Scotland, far bej-ond compare Linlithgow is excelling;And in its park, in jovial June,How sweet the merry linnets tune. How blithe the blackbirds lay!The wild buck bells from fern
The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed with a careful revision of the text . n might his toil have spared In travelling so that a messenger from heavenIn vain to James had counsel given Against the English war;And, closer questioned, thus he toldA tale which chronicles of oldIn Scottish story have enrolled : — Sir SabtB llintiEsags JTalr. Of all the palaces so fair, Built for the royal dwellingIn Scotland, far bej-ond compare Linlithgow is excelling;And in its park, in jovial June,How sweet the merry linnets tune. How blithe the blackbirds lay!The wild buck bells from ferny coot dives merry on the lake,The saddest heart might pleasure take To see all nature June is to our sovereign dearThe heaviest month in all the year;Too well his cause of grief you know,June saw his fathers to the traitors who could bringThe princely boy against his king!Still in his conscience burns the offices as strict as LentKing Jamess June is ever spent. When last this ruthful month was come,And in Linlithgows holy dome MARM I ON. 105. The king, as wont, was praying;Wliile for his royal fathers soulThe chanters sung, the bells did toll, The bishop mass was saying —For now the year brought round againThe day the luckless king was slain —In Catherines aisle the monarch knelt,With sackcloth shirt and iron belt, And eyes with sorrow streaming;Around him in their stalls of stateThe Thistles Knight-Companions sate, Their banners oer them too was there, and, sooth to tell,Bedeafened with the jangling knell,Was watching where the sunbeams fell, Through the stained casement gleam-ing;But while I marked what next befell It seemed as I were from the crowd a ghostly azure gown, with cincture white ;His forehead bald, his head was bare,Down hung at length his yellow hair. —Now, mock me not when, good my lord,I pledge to you my knightly wordThat when I saw his placid grace,His simple majesty of face.
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Keywords: ., bookauthorrolfewjw, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookyear1888
