Sir Walter Scott

He makes a great row but does nothing.

He makes a great row but does nothing.

'Tis an old tale, and often told;
But did my fate and wish agree,
Ne'er had been read more

'Tis an old tale, and often told;
But did my fate and wish agree,
Ne'er had been read, in story old,
Of maiden true betray'd for gold,
That loved, or was avenged, like me!

In listening mood she seemed to stand,
The guardian Naiad of the strand.

In listening mood she seemed to stand,
The guardian Naiad of the strand.

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," read more

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," he said,
"Whose image never may depart,
Deep graven on this grateful heart,
Till memory be dead."
. . . .
St. Leon paused, as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head, as though
To give the word the reverence due,
And gently said, "My mother!"

The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Lock Katrine blue,
Mildly and soft the western breeze
read more

The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Lock Katrine blue,
Mildly and soft the western breeze
Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees,
And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,
Trembled but dimpled not for joy.