THE LADY OF THE LAKE
By Sir Walter Scott, Bart.
Boston 1883
CANTO FIRST. The Chase. Harp of the North! that moldering long hast hung on the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan’s Spring And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, till envious ivy did around thee cling, muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep? Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring, Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep?
Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd, When lay of hopeless love, or glory won, roused the fearful or subdued the proud. At each according pause was heard aloud Thine ardent symphony sublime and high! Fair dames and crested chiefs’ attention bowed; For still the burden of thy minstrelsy Was Knighthood’s dauntless deed, and Beauty’s matchless eye.
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