THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO THIRD. THE GATHERING. I. TIME rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore,1 Who danced our infancy upon their knee, And told our marvelling boyhood legends store, Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or sea, How are they blotted from the things that be! How few, all weak and wither'd of their force, 1["There are no separate introductions to the cantos of this poem: but each of them begins with one or two stanzas in the measure of Spenser, usually containing some reflections connected with the subject about to be entered on; and written, for the most part, with great tenderness and beauty. The following we think, is among the most striking."-JEFFREY.] Wait on the verge of dark eternity, Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless course. Yet live there still who can remember well, How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell, And solitary heath, the signal knew ; And fast the faithful clan around him drew, What time the warning note was keenly wound, What time aloft their kindred banner flew, While clamorous war-pipes yell'd the gathering sound, And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round.1 II. The summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Loch Katrine blue; The doe awoke, and to the lawn, Begemm'd with dewdrops, led her fawn; The lark sent down her revelry; III. No thought of peace, no thought of rest, 3 [MS.-"The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 2 [ Begemm'd with dewdrops, led her fawn; The lark sent down her matins loud; "The green hills Are clothed with early blossoms; through the grass The quick-eyed lizard rustles, and the bills Of summer birds sing welcome as ye pass."-- Childe Harold.] 3 [MS.-"Hard by, his vassals' early care The mystic ritual prepare."] |