Poetry > Lady of the lake

94 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. Canto II,
When Percy’s Norman pennon won
In bloody field, before me shone,
And twice ten knights, the least a name
As mighty as yon Chief may claim,
Gracing my pomp, behind me came.
Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud
Was I of all that marshall’d crowd,
Though the waned crescent own’d my might,
And in my train troop’d lord and knight,
Though Blantyre hymn’d her holiest lays
And Bothwell’s bards flung back my praise,
As when this old man’s silent tear,
And this poor maid’s affection dear,
A welcome give more kind and true,
Than aught my better fortunes knew.
Forgive, my friend, a father’s boast,
0 ! it out-beggars all I lost!”
XXIY.
Delightful praise !—Like summer rose,
That brighter in the dew-drop glows,
The bashful maiden’s cheek appear’d,
For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard.
The flush of shame-faced joy to hide,
The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide:
The loved caresses of the maid
The dogs with crouch and whimper paid;'
l [MS.—“ XAc dogs with whimpering notes repaid.”]