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

OATO IV. HE LADY OP THE LA"E. 311
XXTL
"Who is this maid? what means her lay?
She hovers o'er the hollow way,
And flutters wide her mantle grey,
As the lone heron spreads his wing,
By twilight, o'er a haunted spring."
"'Tis Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said,
"A crazed and captive lowland maid,
Ta'en on the morn she was a bride,
When Roderick forayed Devan-side.
The gay bridegroom resistance made,
And felt our Chief's unconquered blade.
I marvel she is now at large,
But oft she'scapes from Maudlin's charge;
Hence, brain-sick fool!" He raised his bow:
"Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow,
rll pitchtheefrom the cliff as far
As ever peasant pitched a bar."
"Thanks, champion, thanks!" the Maniac cried,
And pressed her to Fitz-James's side.
"See the grey pennons I prepare,
To seek my true-love through the airl
I will not lend that savage groom,
To break his fall, one downy plume!l
No — deep amid disjointed stones,
The wolves shall batten on his bones,
And then shall his detested plaid,
By bush and briar in mid-air staid,
Wave forth a banner fair and free,
Meet signal for their revelry."
XXIV.
"Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still!"
"Ohl thou look'st kindly, and I will
Mine eye has dried and wasted been,
But still it loves the Lincoln green;
And, though mine ear is all unstrung,
Still, still it loves the lowland tongue.
For oh my sweet William was forester tirne,
He stole poor Blanche's heart away!
His coat it was all of the greenwood line,
And so blithely he trilled the lowland lLy! —--