THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO FIRST. The Chase. HARP of the North! that mouldering 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, Aroused 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 bow'd; For still the burthen of thy minstrelsy Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye. O wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, The wizard note has not been touched in vain. Then silent be no more! Enchantress, wake again! I. THE Stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade; But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, The deep-mouthed blood-hound's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way, And faint, from farther distance borne, Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. II. As chief who hears his warder call, "To arms! the foemen storm the wall,” The antler'd monarch of the waste Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment snuffed the tainted gale, A moment listened to the cry, That thickened as the chase drew nigh; Then, as the headmost foes appeared, With one brave bound the copse he cleared, And, stretching forward free and far, Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. III. Yelled on the view the opening pack, Rock glen and cavern paid them back; To many a mingled sound at once The awakened mountain gave response. An hundred dogs bayed deep and strong, Their peal the merry horns rung out, On the lone wood and mighty hill. IV. Less loud the sounds of sylvan war Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, |