23 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. CANTO FIRST. THE CHASE. HARP of the North! that mouldering long hast hung 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 burden of thy minstrelsy Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's match O wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray; O wake once more! though scarce my skill command 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 L THE stag at eve had drunk his fill, And faint, from farther distance borne, II. As Chief, who hears his warder call, |