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   Chapter 151 No.151

The Lady of the Lake By Walter Scott Characters: 1424

Updated: 2017-12-01 00:03

"Now, yield thee, or by Him who made

The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!"-

405 "Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy!

Let recreant yield, who fears to die."

-Like adder darting from his coil,

Like wolf that dashes through the toil,

Like mountain-cat who guards her young,note

410 Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung;

Received, but recked not of a wound,

And locked his arms his foeman round.

Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own!

No maiden's hand is round thee thrown!

415 That desperate grasp thy frame might feel,

Through bars of brass and triple steel!-

They tug, they strain! down, down they go,

The Gael above, Fitz-James below.

The Chieftain's gripe his th

roat compressed

420 His knee was planted in his breast;

His clotted locks he backward threw,

Across his brow his hand he drew,

From blood and mist to clear his sight,

Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright!

425 But hate and fury ill supplied

The stream of life's exhausted tide,

And all too late the advantage came,

To turn the odds of deadly game;

For, while the dagger gleamed on high,

430 Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye.

Down came the blow! but in the heath

The erring blade found bloodless sheath.

The struggling foe may now unclasp

The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp;

435 Unwounded from the dreadful close,

But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.

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