The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott ... Notes & life of the author.

g08 MARMION..N TO IU
And ape, in manly step and tone,
The majesty of Oberon:
And she is gone, whose lovely face
Is but her least and lowest grace;
Though if to Sylphid Queen'twere'-:v, n,
To show our earth the charms of hIcav, ii,
She could not glide along the air,
With form more light, or face more f{iir.
No more the widow's deafened ear
Grows quick, that lady's step to hear:
At noontide she expects her not,'Nor busies her to trim the cot;
Pensive she turns her humming wheel,
Or pensive cooks her orphan's meal;
Yet blesses, ere she deals their bread,
The gentle hand by which they're fed.
From Yair,-which hills so closely liild,.
Scarce can the Tweed his passage firn i.,
Though much he fret, and chafe, anld ll ii,
Till all his eddying currents boil,
Her long-descended lord is gone,
And left us by the stream alone.
And much I miss those sportive boys,
Companions of my mountain joys,'Just at the age'twixt boy and youth,
When thought is speech, and speech is tlrth.
Close to my side, with what delight,
They pressed to hear of Wallace wigllt,
When, pointing to his airy mound,
I called his ramparts holy ground!
Kindled their brows to hear me speak;
And I have smiled, to feel my cheek,
Despite the difference of our years,
Return again the glow of theirs.
Ah, happy boysl such feelings pure,
They will not, cannot long endure;
Condemned to stem the world's rude tilo,
You may not linger by the side;
For Fate shall thrust you from the shore.,
And Passion ply the sail and oar,
Yet cherish the remembrance still,
Of the lone mountain, and the rill;
For trust, dear boys, the time will come,
When fiercer transport shall be dumb,
And you will think right frequently,
But, well I hope, without a sigh,
t I