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   Chapter 62 No.62

The Lady of the Lake By Walter Scott Characters: 1263

Updated: 2017-12-01 00:03

Allan, with wistful look the while,

Marked Roderick landing on the isle;

485 His master piteously he eyed.

Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride,

Then dashed, with hasty hand, away

From his dimmed eye the gathering spray;

And Douglas, as his hand he laid

490 On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said,

"Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy

In my poor follower's glistening eye?

I'll tell thee: he recalls the day,

When in my praise he led the lay

495 O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud,

While many a minstrel answered loud,

When Percy's Norman pennon, wonnote

In bloody field, before me


And twice ten knights, the least a name

500 As mighty as yon Chief may claim,

Gracing my pomp, behind me came.

Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud

Was I of all that marshaled crowd,

Though the waned crescent owned my might,note

505 And in my train trooped lord and knight,

Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays,note

And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise,

As when this old man's silent tear,

And this poor maid's affection dear,

510 A welcome give more kind and true,

Than aught my better fortunes knew.

Forgive, my friend, a father's boast,

Oh! it out-beggars all I lost!"

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