From the steep promontory gazed The stranger, raptured and amazed, And, 'What a scene were here,' he cried, 'For princely pomp, or churchman's pride! On this bold brow, a lordly tower; In that soft vale, a lady's bower; On yonder meadow, far away, The turrets of a cloister gray; How blithely might the bugle-horn Chide, on the lake, the lingering morn! How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute Chime, when the groves were still and mute! And when the midnight moon should lave Her forehead in the silver wave, How solemn on the ear would come The holy matin's distant hum, While the deep peal's commanding tone Should wake, in yonder islet lone, A sainted hermit from his cell, To drop a bead with every knell— And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, Should each bewildered stranger call To friendly feast, and lighted hall.
XVI
'Blithe were it then to wander here! But now—beshrew yon nimble deer— Like that same hermit's, thin and spare, The copse must give my evening fare; Some mossy bank my couch must be, Some rustling oak my canopy. Yet pass we that; the war and chase Give little choice of resting-place— A summer night, in greenwood spent, Were but tomorrow's merriment: But hosts may in these wilds abound, Such as are better missed than found; To meet with Highland plunderers here, Were worse than loss of steed or deer. I am alone; my bugle-strain May call some straggler of the train; Or, fall the worst that may betide, Ere now this falchion has been tried.'
XVII
But scarce again his horn he wound, When lo! forth starting at the sound, From underneath an aged oak, That slanted from the islet rock, A damsel guider of its way, A little skiff shot to the bay, That round the promontory steep Led its deep line in graceful sweep, Eddying, in almost viewless wave, The weeping willow-twig to lave, And kiss, with whispering sound and slow, The beach of pebbles bright as snow. The boat had touched the silver strand, Just as the Hunter left his stand, And stood concealed amid the brake, To view this Lady of the Lake. The maiden paused, as if again She thought to catch the distant strain.
