The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, with memoir of the author.

CANTO II.] THE LAST MINSTREL. 85
XXXI.
Beneath an oak, moss'd o'er by eld,
The Baron's Dwarf his courser held,1
And held his crested helm and spear.
That Dwarf was scare an earthly man,
If the tales were true that of him ran
Through all the Border, far and near.'Twas said, when the Baron a-hunting rode
Through Reedsdale's glens, but rarely trod,
He heard a voice cry, " Lost! lost! lost!"
And, like tennis-ball by racket toss'd,
A leap, of thirty feet and three,
Made from the gorse this elfin shape,
Distorted like some dwarfish ape,
And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee.
Lord Cranstoun was some whit dismay'd;'Tis said that five good miles he rade,
To rid him of his company;
But where he rode one mile, the Dwarf ran four,
And the Dwarf was first at the castle door.
XXXII.
Use lessens marvel, it is said:
This elvish Dwarf with the Baron stayed;
Little he ate, and less he spoke,
Nor mingled with the menial flock:
And oft apart his arms he toss'd,
And often mutter'd "Lost! lost! lost!"
1 See Appendix, Note S.