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"Why is it, at each turn I trace

Some memory

of that exil'd race? Can I not mountain-maiden spy, But she must bear the Douglas eye? Can I not view a Highland brand, But it must match the Douglas hand? Can I not frame a fever'd dream, But still the Douglas is the theme? I'll dream no more-by manly mind Not even in sleep is will resign'd. My midnight orisons said o'er, I'll turn to rest, and dream no more." His midnight orisons he told, A prayer with every bead of gold, Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, And sunk in undisturb'd repose; Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, And morning dawn'd on Benvenue.

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67

THE

LADY OF THE LAKE.

CANTO SECOND.

The Island.

I.

Ar morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing,
'Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay,
All Nature's children feel the matin spring
Of life reviving, with reviving day;

And while yon little bark glides down the bay,
Wafting the stranger on his way again,
Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel grey,

And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, Mix'd with the sounding harp, O white-hair'd AllanBane !1

1 That Highland chieftains, to a late perod, retained in their service the bard, as a family officer, admits of very easy proof. The author of the Letters from the North of Scotland, an officer of engineers, quartered at Inverness about 1720, who certainly cannot be deemed a favourable witness, gives the following ac

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