THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto First.-The Chase. I. 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, 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? B 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 command my skill Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay: Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, And all unworthy of thy nobler strain, Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, The wizard note has not been touch'd in vain. Then silent be no more! Enchantress, wake again! I. THE Stag at eve had drunk his fill, But, when the sun his beacon red And faint, from farther distance borne, 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. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; Like crested leader proud and high, Toss'd his beam'd. frontlet to the sky; A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment snuff'd the tainted gale, A moment listen'd to the cry, That thicken'd as the chase drew nigh; Then, as the headmost foes appear'd, Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. III. Yell'd on the view the opening pack, |