LADY OF D LAKE

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The Lady of the Lake

by

Sir Walter Scott, Bart.

THE LADY OF THE LAKE.

CANTO FIRST.

The Chase.

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, 
   Till envious ivy did around thee cling, 
Muffling with verdant ringlet every string,-- 
   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 bowed; 
   For still the burden of thy minstrelsy
Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye. 

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 touched in vain. 
Then silent be no more! Enchantress, wake again!