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

OATR VI. THRE GUARD ROOM. 51
Grey Ben-venue I soon repassed,
Loch-Katrine lay beneath me cast.
The sun is set-the clouds are metThe lowering scowl of heaven
An inky hue of livid blue
To the deep lake has given;
Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen
Swept o'er the lake, then sunk agen.
I heeded not the eddying surge,
Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge,
Mine ear but heard that sullen sound,
Which like an earthquake shook the grounz4
And spoke the stern and desperate strife
That parts not but with parting life,
Seeming, to minstrel-ear, to toll
The dirge of many a passing soul
Nearer it comes-the dim-wood glen
The martial flood disgorged agen,
But not in mingled tide;
The plaided warriors of the North,
High on the mountain thunder forth,
And overhang its side;
While by the lake below appears
The darkening cloud of Saxon spears..
At weary bay each shattered band,
Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand;
Their banners stream like tatter'd sail,
That flings its fragments to the gale,
And broken arms and disarray
Marked the fell havoc of the day.
XX.
"Viewing the mountain's ridge askancet
The Saxons stood in sullen trance,
Till Moray pointed with his lance,
And cried-' Behold yon isle!
Seel none are left to guard its strand,
But women weak, that wring the hand:'Tis there of yore the robber band
Their booty wont to pile; —
My purse, with bonnet-pieces store,
To him will swim a bow-shot o'er,
And loose a shaliop firom the shore.
Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then,
Lords of his mate, and brood, and den.