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

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0 fhtal was the gift, I weenl
For, doom'd in evil tide,
The maid must be rude Cornwall's queen,
His cowardly uncle's bride.
Their loves, their woes, the gifted bard
In fairy tissue wove;
Where lords, and knights, and ladies bright,
In gay confusion strove.
The Garde Joyense, amid the tale,
High rear'd its glittering head;
And Avalon's enchanted vale
In all its wonders spread.
Brengwain was there, and Segramore,
And fiend-born Merlin's gramarye;
Of that fam'd wizard's mighty lore,
O who could sing but he?
Through many a maze the winning song
In changeful passion led,
Till bent at length the list'ning throng
O'er Tristrem's dying bed.
His ancient wounds their scars expand
With agony his heart is wrung;
O where is Isolde's lily hand;
And where her soothing tongue?
She comes, she comes! like flash of flame
Can lovers' footsteps Iiy:
She comes, she comes!: she only came
To see her Tristrem die.
She saw him die: her latest sigh
Join'd in a kiss his parting breath
The gentlest pair that Britain bare;
United are in death.
There paus'd the harp; itsling'ring sotund,
Died slowly on the ear;
The silent guests still bent around,
For still they seem'd to hear.
Then woe, broke forth in murmurs weak
Nor ladies heav'd alone the sigh;
But, half asham'd, the rugged cheek
Did many a gauntlet dry.. _ _ _ _._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _....____._._______________________._______ I