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

CANTO VI.] THE LAST MINSTREL. 201
Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch:
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day? ""'Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir
To-night at Roslin leads the ball,
But that my ladye-mother there
Sits lonely in her castle hall.
"'Tis not because the ring they ride,
And Lindesay at the ring rides well,
But that my sire the wine will chide,
If'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle."O'er Roslin all that dreary night,
A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light,
And redder than the bright moon-beam.
It glared on Roslin's castled rock,
It ruddiedl all the copseswood glen;'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,
And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.
Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud,
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie,
Each Baron, for a sable shroud,
Sheathed in his iron panoply.
1 [First Edit.-" It reddened," &c.]