Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare,

I may not give the rest to air!

Tell Roderick Dhu, I owed him nought,

Not the poor service of a boat,

To waft me to yon mountain side."

Then plunged he in the flashing tide.
Bold-o'er the flood his head he bore,
And stoutly steered him from the shore;
And Allan strained his anxious eye,
Far 'mid the lake his form to spy.
Darkening across each puny wave,
To which the moon her silver gave,
Fast as the cormorant could skim,
The swimmer plied each active limb;
Then landing in the moonlight dell,

Loud shouted of his weal to tell.

The Minstrel heard the far halloo,
And joyful from the shore withdrew.

END OF CANTO SECOND.

THE

LADY OF THE LAKE.

CANTO THIRD.

The Gathering,

Who danced our infancy upon their knee, And told our marvelling boy-hood 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 withered of their force, Wait, on the verge of dark eternity,

Το

Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse,

sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his cease

less 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 yelled the gathering

sound,

And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor,

round.

II.

The summer dawn's reflected hue

To purple changed Loch-Katrine blue ;

Mildly and soft the western breeze

Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees,
And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,
Trembled but dimpled not for joy;

The mountain shadows on her breast

Were neither broken nor at rest;