File:The Lady of the lake, a poem in six cantos (1883) (14760943671).jpg

Identifier: ladyoflakepoein00scot (find matches)
Title: The Lady of the lake, a poem in six cantos
Year: 1883 (1880s)
Authors: Scott, Walter, Sir, 1771-1832
Subjects: Lady of the Lake (Legendary character)
Publisher: New York, T. Y. Crowell & co
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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led feelings woke,While his anathema he spoke. IX. Woe to the clansman, who shall viewThis symbol of sepulchral yew.Forgetful that its branches grewWhere weep the heavens their holiest dew On Alpines dwelling low !Deserter of his Chieftains trust,He neer shall mingle with their dust.But, from his sires and kindred thrust,Each clansmans execration just Shall doom him wrath and woe.He paused; — the word the vassals took,With forward step and fiery look.On high their naked brands they shook, as may be expected from a people whose whole laws and government,if clanship can be called so, turned upon the single principle offamily descent. May his ashes be scattered on the water, wasone of the deepest and most solemn imprecations which they usedagainst an enemy- See a detailed description of the funeral cere-monies of a Highland chieftain in the Fair Maid of Perth, WaverlyNovels, vol. 43, chaps, x. aiid xi. Nevj Edit. * MS. : Our warriors, on his worthless bust,Shall speak disgrace and woe.
Text Appearing After Image:
The Cross thus fnrmd he held on highWith wasted hand and haggard eye. — Page ii6. Canto m.) THE LADY OF THE LAKE. II/ Their clattering targets wildly strook ; And first in murmur low,Then, like the billow in his course,That far to seaward finds his source,And flings to shore his musterd force.Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarse, Woe to the traitor, woe! Ben-ans gray scalp the accents knew.The joyous wolf from covert drew,The exulting eagle screamd afar, —They knew the voice of Alpines war. X. The shout was hushd on lake and fell.The monk resumed his mutterd spell:Dismal and low its accents came.The while he scathed the Cross with flame;And the few words that reachd the air,Although the holiest name was there,*Had more of blasphemy than prayer.But when he shook above the crowdIts kindled points, he spoke aloud : — Woe to the wretch who fails to rearAt this dread sign the ready spear!For, as the flames this symbol sear,His home, the refuge of his fear,A kindred fate shall k

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