Bold o'er the flood his head he bore,

And stoutly steer'd him from the shore;
And Allan strain'd 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

VOL. III.

THE

LADY OF THE LAKE.

CANTO THIRD.

THE GATHERING

101

THE

LADY OF THE LAKE.

CANTO THIRD.

THE GATHERING.

I.

TIME rolls his ceaseless course.

The race of yore, Who danced our infancy upon their knee, marvelling boyhood legends store,

And told our

Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or sea, How are they blotted from the things that be! How few, all weak and wither'd of their force, Wait on the verge of dark eternity,

Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless

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,