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

taroe III.'THE oGTHERINt.
Then, trusting not a second look,
In haste he sped him up the brook,
Nor backward glanced till on the heath,
Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith.
What in the racer's bosom stirred?
The sickening pang of hope deferred,
And memory, with a torturing tram
Of all his morning visions vain.
Mingled with love's impatience, came
The manly thirst for martial fame;
The stormy joy of mountaineers,;Ere yet they rush upon the spears;
ij rAnd zeal for clan and chieftain burning,
i. And hope, from well-fought field returning,'With war's red honours on his crest,'To clasp his Mary to'his breast.
Stung by such thoughts o er bank and bra,
Like fire from flint he glanced away,'
While high resolve, and feeling strong,
BurSt into voluntary song.
SON(lo
The heath this night must be my bed,
The bracken curtain for my head,
My lullaby the warder's tread,
Far, far from love and thee, Mary;
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,
My couch may be my bloody plaid,
My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid!
It will not waken me, Maryl
I may not, dare not, fancy now
The grief that clouds thy lovely brow'
I dare not think upon thy vow,
Anad all it promised me, Mary.
No fond regret must Norman know;
When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe,
His heart must be like bended bow,
His foot like arrow free, Maryl
A time will come with feeling fraught!
For, if I fall in battle fought,
Thy hapless lover's dying thought
Shall be a thought on thee, Maryl
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