Lady of the Lake

Her smile, her speech, with winning sway,
Wiled the old harper's mood away.

With such a look as hermits throw,
When angels stoop to soothe their woe,
He gazed, till fond regret and pride 
Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied:
'Loveliest and best! thou little know'st
The rank, the honors, thou hast lost!

O might I live to see thee grace,
In Scotland's court, thy birth-right place, 
To see my favorite's step advance,
The lightest in the courtly dance,
The cause of every gallant's sigh,
And leading star of every eye,
And theme of every minstrel's art, 
The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!'note

XI

'Fair dreams are these,' the maiden cried —
Light was her accent, yet she sighed—
'Yet is this mossy rock to me
Worth splendid chair and canopy; 

Nor would my footsteps spring more gay
In courtly dance than blithe strathspey,
Nor half so pleased mine ear incline
To royal minstrel's lay as thine.

And then for suitors proud and high, 
To bend before my conquering eye—
Thou, flattering bard! thyself wilt say,
That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway.

The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride,
The terror of Loch-Lomond's side, 
Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay
A Lennox foray—for a day.'note

XII

The ancient bard his glee repressed:
'Ill hast thou chosen theme for jest!
For who, through all this western wild, 
Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled!

In Holy-Rood a knight he slew;
I saw, when back the dirk he drew,
Courtiers give place before the stride
Of the undaunted homicide; 

And since, though outlawed, hath his hand
Full sternly kept his mountain land.
Who else dared give—ah! woe the day,
That I such hated truth should say—

The Douglas, like a stricken deer, 
Disowned by every noble peer,
Even the rude refuge we have here?
Alas, this wild marauding Chief
Alone might hazard our relief,
And now thy maiden charms expand, 
Looks for his guerdon in thy hand;

Full soon may dispensation sought,
To back his suit, from Rome he brought.

Then, though an exile on the hill,
Thy father, as the Douglas, still 
Be held in reverence and fear;
And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear,
That thou might'st guide with silken thread,