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LORD OF THE ISLES.
Sudden and deep the thunder-peal has rolld,
Sunk on the wood, the meadow, and the wold ? The rye-grass shakes not on the sod-built fold,
The rustling aspen’s leaves are mute and still, The wall-flower waves not on the ruin'd Hold,
Till, murmuring distant first, then near and shrill, The savage whirlwind wakes, and sweeps the groaning hill!
Artornish! such a silence sunk
His prophet-speech had spoke;
Before a whisper woke.
The solemn stillness broke ; And still they gazed with eager guess, Where, in an oriel's deep recess, The Island Prince seem'd bent to press What Lorn, by his impatient cheer, And gesture fierce, scarce deign'd to hear.
Starting at length with frowning look,
And sternly flung apart ;
“ And deem'st thou me so mean of mood,
dear kinsman's heart?
Is this thy rede ?-a due return
Be it even som believe, ere long,
But who the Chieftain's rage can tell,
To highest tower the castle round,