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

CANTO II.] HAROLD THE DAUNTLESS.
Yet better loves the dewdrops still
That pearl the locks of Metelill.
" The pious Palmer loves, I wis,
Saint Cuthbert's hallow'd beads to kiss;
But I, though simple girl I be,
Might have such homage paid to me;
For did Lord William see me suit
This necklace of the bramble's fruit,
He fain-but must not have his willWould kiss the beads of Metelill.
" My nurse has told me many a tale,
How vows of love are weak and frail;
My mother says that courtly youth
By rustic maid means seldom sooth.
What should they mean? it cannot be,
That such a warning's meant for me,
For nought-oh! nought of fraud or ill
Can William mean to Metelill "
VII.
Sudden she stops-and starts to feel
A weighty hand, a glove of steel,
Upon her shrinking shoulders laid;
Fearful she turn'd, and saw, dismay'd,
A Knight in plate and mail array'd,
His crest and bearing worn and fray'd
His surcoat soil'd and riven,
Form'd like that giant race of yore,

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