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

CANTO IV.] THE LORD OF THE ISLES. 145
So soft and fair a thrall!
And oft when moon on ocean slept,
That lovely lady sate and wept
Upon the castle wall,
And turn'd her eye to southern climes,
And thought perchance of happier times,
And touch'd her lute by fits, and sung
Wild ditties in her native tongue.
And still, when on the cliff and bay
Placid and pale the moonbeams play,
And every breeze is mute,
Upon the lone IIebridean's ear
Steals a strange pleasure mix'd with fear,
While from that cliff he seems to hear
The murmur of a lute,
And sounds, as of a captive lone,
That mourns her woes in tongue unknown.Strange is the tale-but all too long
Already hath it staid the songYet who may pass them by,
That crag and tower in ruins gray,1
Nor to their hapless tenant pay
The tribute of a sigh i
IX.
Merrily, merrily bounds the bark
O'er the broad ocean driven,
Her path by Ronin's mountains dark
1 [MS.-" That crag with crest of ruins gray."]
VOL. V. 10