Poetry > Lady of the lake

104
THE LADY OF THE LAKE.
Canto 11.
“ Roderick, enough ! enough! ” he cried,
“ My daughter cannot he thy bride;
Not that the blush to wooer dear,
Nor paleness that of maiden fear,
It may not be—forgive her, Chief,
Nor hazard aught for our relief.
Against his sovereign, Douglas ne’er
Will level a rebellious spear.
’Twas I that taught his youthful hand
To reign a steed and wield a brand ;
I see him yet, the princely boy !
Not Ellen more my pride and joy ;
I love him still, despite my wrongs,
By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues.
0 seek the grace you well may find,
Without a cause to mine combined.”
XXXIII.
Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode;
The waving of his tartans broad,
And darken’d brow, where wounded pride
With ire and disappointment vied,
Seem’d, by the torch’s gloomy light,
Like the ill demon of the night,
Stooping his pinions’ shadowy sway
Upon the nighted pilgrim’s way ;
But, unrequited Love ! thy dart
Plunged deepest its envenom’d sman.