. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. tor to a maid. Ere linked in marriage, should provide Lands and a dwelling for his bride — My fathers by the Tyne and Wear I have reclaimed. — O, all too dear And all too dangerous the prize. Een were it won, young Gunnar cries ; — And then this Juttas fresh device. That thou shouldst seek, a heathen Dane, From Durhams priests a boon to gain When thou hast left their vassals slain In their own halls ! — Flashed Harolds eye, Thundered his voice —• False page, you lie ! The castle, hall and tower, is mine
. The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, baronet; ed. with a careful revision of the text. tor to a maid. Ere linked in marriage, should provide Lands and a dwelling for his bride — My fathers by the Tyne and Wear I have reclaimed. — O, all too dear And all too dangerous the prize. Een were it won, young Gunnar cries ; — And then this Juttas fresh device. That thou shouldst seek, a heathen Dane, From Durhams priests a boon to gain When thou hast left their vassals slain In their own halls ! — Flashed Harolds eye, Thundered his voice —• False page, you lie ! The castle, hall and tower, is mine, Built by old Witikind on Tyne. The wild-cat will defend his den. Fights for her nest the timid wren ; And thinkst thou I 11 forego my right For dread of monk or monkish knight ? — Up and away, that deepening bell Doth of the bishops conclave tell. Thither will I in manner due, As Jutta bade, my claim to sue; And if to right me they are loath, Then woe to church and chapter both ! Now shift the scene and let the curtain fall, And our next entry be Saint Cuthberts hall. Hy. 29 450 SCOTTS POETICAL WORKS. f^arolt) X\iz ©auntless. CANTO FOURTH. Full many a bard hath sung the solemn gloomOf the long Gothic aisle and stone-ribbed roof,Oer-canopying shrine and gorgeous tomb,Carved screen, and altar glimmering far aloofAnd blending with the shade —a matchless proofOf high devotion, which hath now waxed cold;Yet legends say that Luxurys brute hoofIntruded oft within such sacred step of Bels false priest tracked in his fane of old. Well pleased am I, howeer, that when the routeOf our rude neighbors whilome deigned to and eke unwelcome, to sweep outAnd cleanse our chancel from the rags of Rome,They spoke not on our ancient fane the doomTo which their bigot zeal gave oer their sjiared the martyred saint and storied papal miracles had graced the though the aisles still loved the organs swelling tone. And deem not, thoug
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