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

106 ROKEBY. [CANTO II.
And clenched teeth, and close-clasp'd hands,
In agony of soul he stands!
His downcast eye on earth is bent,
His soul to every sound is lent;
For in each shout that cleaves the air,
May ring discovery and despair.1
XXVIII.
What'vail'd it him, that brightly play'd
The morning sun on Mortham's glade?
All seems in giddy round to ride,
Like objects on a stormy tide,
Seen eddying by the moonlight dim,
Imperfectly to sink and swim.
What'vail'd it, that tile fair domain,
Its battled mansion, hill, and plain,
On which the sun so brightly shone,
Envied so long, was now his own? 2
The lowest dungeon, in that hour,
Of Brackenbury's dismal tower,3
1 [L Opposed to this animated picture of ardent courage
and ingenuous youth, that of a guilty conscience, which immediately follows, is indescribably terrible,, and calculated to
achieve the highest and noblest purposes of dramatic fiction."- Critical Review.]
2 ["L The contrast of the beautiful morning, and the prospect of the rich domain of Mortham, which Oswald was come.
to seize, with the dark remorse and misery of his mind, is
powerfully represented: (Non dosmas et fundus!" &c. &c.)Monthly Review.]
3 This tower has been already mentioned. It is situated
near the northeastern extremity of the wall which encloses