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   Chapter 191 LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN

The Lady of the Lake By Walter Scott Characters: 922

Updated: 2017-12-01 00:03


665 "My hawk is tired of perch and hood,

My idle greyhound loathes his food,

My horse is weary of his stall,

And I am sick of captive thrall.

I wish I were as I have been,

670 Hunting the hart in forest green,

With bended bow and bloodhound free,

For that's the life is meet for me.

"I hate to learn the ebb of time,

From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime,

675 Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl,

Inch after inch, along the wall.

The lark was wont my matins ring,

The sable rook my vespers sing;

These towers, although a king's they be,

680 Have not a hall of joy for me.

"No more at dawning morn I rise,

And sun myself in Ellen's eyes,

Drive the fleet deer the forest through,

And homeward wend with evening dew;

685 A blithesome welcome blithely meet,

And lay my trophies at her feet,

While fled the eve on wing of glee-

That life is lost to love and me!"

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