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-Pent in this isle we may not lie,
Nor would it long our wants supply.
Right opposite, the mainland towers
Of my own Turnberry court our powers.-- Might not my father's beadsman hoar, Cuthbert, who dwells upon the shore, Kindle a signal-flame, to show The time propitious for the blow ?It shall be so-some friend shall bear Our mandate with dispatch and care; - Edward shall find the messenger. That fortress ours, the island fleet May on the coast of Carrick meet.O Scotland ! shall it e'er be mine To wreak thy wrongs in battle-line, To raise my victor head, and see. Thy hills, thy dales, thy people free, That glance of bliss is all I crave, Betwixt my labours and my grave !"
Then down the hill he slowly went, Oft pausing on the steep descent, And reach'd the spot where his bold train Held rustic camp upon the plain.
END OF CANTO FOURTH.
LORD OF THE ISLES.
On fair Loch-Ranza stream'd the early day,
Thin wreaths of cottage-smoke are upward curld From the lone hamlet, which her inland bay
And circling mountains sever from the world. And there the fisherman his sail unfurld,
The goat-herd drove his kids to steep Ben-Ghoil, Before the hut the dame her spindle twirld,
Courting the sun-beam as she plied her toil,
For, wake where'er he may, Man wakes to care and coil.