His priests received the exhausted Monk,
As breathless in their arms he sunk.
Punctual his orders to obey,
The train refused all longer stay,
Embark’d, raised sail, and bore away.

END OF CANTO SECOND.

THE

LORD OF THE ISLES.

CANTO THIRD.

THE.

LORD OF THE ISLES.

CANTO THIRD.

Hast thou not markd, when o'er thy startled head

Sudden and deep the thunder-peal has rollid, How, when its echoes fell, a silence dead

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 !