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   Chapter 48 No.48

The Lady of the Lake By Walter Scott Characters: 1239

Updated: 2017-12-01 00:03

Soothing she answered him-"Assuage,

155 Mine honored friend, the fears of age;

All melodies to thee are known,

That harp has rung, or pipe has blown,

In Lowland vale or Highland glen,

From Tweed to Spey-what marvel, then,note

160 At times, unbidden notes should rise,

Confusedly bound in memory's ties,

Entangling, as they rush along,

The war-march with the funeral song?

Small ground is now for boding fear;

165 Obscure, but safe, we rest us here.

My sire, in native virtue great,

Resigning lordship, lands, and state,

Not then to fortune more resigned,

Than yonder oak migh

t give the wind;

170 The graceful foliage storms may reave,

The noble stem they cannot grieve.

For me,"-she stooped, and, looking round,

Plucked a blue hare-bell from the ground-

"For me, whose memory scarce conveys

175 An image of more splendid days,

This little flower, that loves the lea,

May well my simple emblem be;

It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose

That in the king's own garden grows;

180 And when I place it in my hair,

Allan, a bard is bound to swear

He ne'er saw coronet so fair."

Then playfully the chaplet wild

She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled.

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