The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott, with memoir of the author.

98 THE LORD OF THE ISLES. [CANTO III.
Upon thy halls, when that grey Monk
His prophet-speech had spoke;
And his obedient brethren's sail
Was stretch'd to meet the southern gale
Before a whisper woke.
Then murmuring sounds of doubt and fear,
Close pour'd in many an anxious ear,
The solemn stillness broke;
And still they gazed with eager guess,
Where, in an oriel's deep recess,
The Island Prince seem'd bent to press
What Lorn, by his impatient cheer,
And gesture fierce, scarce deign'd to hear.
III.
Starting at length with frowning look,
His hand he clench'd, his head he shook,
And sternly flung apart;"And deem'st thou me so mean of mood,
As to forget the mortal feud,
And clasp the hand with blood imbrued
From my dear Kinsman's heart?
Is this thy rede?-a due return
For ancient league and friendship sworn!
But well our mountain proverb shows
The faith of Islesmen ebbs and flows.
Be it even so-believe, ere long,
He that now bears shall wreak the wrong.
1 [MS.-" And clasp the bloody hand imbrued."]