Each on its own dark cape reclined, And listening to its own wild wind, To sadden this auspicious morn, That bids the daughter of high Lom Impledge her spousal faith to wed On equal terms with England's pride.- The damsel dons her best attire, The shepherd lights his beltane fire, Joy, Joy! each warder's horn hath sung, Yet, empress of this joyful day, Edith is sad while all are gay.". IX. Proud Edith's soul came to her eye, Resentment check'd the struggling sigh, Her hurrying hand indignant dried The burning tears of injured pride 66 Morag, forbear! or lend thy praise To swell yon hireling harpers' lays ; Make to yon maids thy boast of power, That they may waste a wondering hour, Or, theme more dear, of robes of price, Think'st thou with these to cheat the heart, That, bound in strong affection's chain, Looks for return and looks in vain ? No! sum thine Edith's wretched lot In these brief words-He loves her not! X. "Debate it not too long I strove To call his cold observance love, All blinded by the league that styled She tripp'd the heath by Morag's side,— Ere yet I saw him, while afar His broadsword blazed in Scotland's war, Train'd to believe our fates the same, My bosom throbb'd when Ronald's name Like perfume on the summer gale. Who touch'd the harp to heroes' praise, Was her's but closed with Ronald's name. He came and all that had been told Of his high worth seem'd poor and cold, Tame, lifeless, void of energy, Unjust to Ronald and to me! XI. "Since then, what thought had Edith's heart And gave not plighted love its part !— B And what requital? cold delay Excuse that shunn'd the spousal day. It dawns, and Ronald is not here ! Hunts he Bentalla's nimble deer, To bid some lighter love farewell, And swear, that though he may not scorn A daughter of the House of Lorn, Yet, when these formal rites are o'er, Again they meet, to part no more!" XII. —" Hush, daughter, hush! thy doubts remove, More nobly think of Ronald's love. Look, where beneath the castle grey His fleet unmoor from Aros bay! |