The Lord Of The Isles: Canto I. Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Sir Walter Scott

The Lord Of The Isles: Canto I. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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Autumn departs but still his mantle's fold	A
Rests on the groves of noble Somerville	B
Beneath a shroud of russet dropp'd with gold	A
Tweed and his tributaries mingle still	B
Hoarser the wind and deeper sounds the rill	B
Yet lingering notes of silvan music swell	C
The deep toned cushat and the redbreast shrill	B
And yet some tints of summer splendour tell	C
When the broad sun sinks down on Ettrick's western fell	C
	-
Autumn departs from Gala's fields no more	D
Come rural sounds our kindred banks to cheer	E
Blent with the stream and gale that wafts it o'er	F
No more the distant reaper's mirth we hear	G
The last blithe shout hath died upon our ear	G
And harvest home hath hush'd the changing wain	H
On the waste hill no forms of life appear	E
Save where sad laggard of the autumnal train	H
Some age struck wanderer gleans few ears of scatter'd grain	H
	-
Deem'st thou these sadden'd scenes have pleasure still	B
Lovest thou through Autumn's fading realms to stray	I
To see the heath flower wither'd on the hill	B
To listen to the wood's expiring lay	I
To note the red leaf shivering on the spray	I
To mark the last bright tints the mountain stain	H
On the waste fields to trace the gleaner's way	I
And moralise on mortal joy and pain	H
O if such scenes thou lovest scorn not the minstrel strain	H
	-
No do not scorn although its hoarser note	J
Scarce with the cushat's homely song can vie	K
Though faint its beauties as the tints remote	J
That gleam through mist in autumn's evening sky	K
And few as leaves that tremble sear and dry	K
When wild November hath his bugle wound	L
Nor mock my toil a lonely gleaner I	K
Through fields time wasted on and inquest bound	L
Where happier bards of yore have richer harvest found	L
	-
So shalt thou list and haply not unmoved	M
To a wild tale of Albyn's warrior day	I
In distant lands by the rough West reproved	I
Still live some relics of the ancient lay	I
For when on Coolin's hills the lights decay	I
With such the Seer of Skye the eve beguiles	N
'Tis known amid the pathless wastes of Reay	I
In Harries known and in Iona's piles	N
Where rest from mortal coil the Mighty of the Isles	N
	-
Canto I	K
I	K
'Wake Maid of Lorn ' the Minstrels sung	O
Thy rugged halls Artornish rung	O
And the dark seas thy towers that lave	P
Heaved on the beach a softer wave	P
As 'mid the tuneful choir to keep	Q
The diapason of the Deep	Q
Lull'd were the winds of Inninmore	I
And green Loch Alline's woodland shore	I
As if wild woods and waves had pleasure	I
In listing to the lovely measure	I
And ne'er to symphony more sweet	I
Gave mountain echoes answer meet	I
Since met from mainland and from isle	R
Ross Arran Hay and Argyle	R
Each minstrel's tributary lay	I
Paid homage to the festal day	I
Dull and dishonour'd were the bard	I
Worthless of guerdon and regard	I
Deaf to the hope of minstrel fame	S
Or lady's smiles his noblest aim	S
Who on that morn's resistless call	T
Where silent in Artornish hall	T
	-
II	K
'Wake Maid of Lorn ' 'twas thus they sung	O
And yet more proud the descant rung	O
'Wake Maid of Lorn high right is ours	N
To charm dull sleep from Beauty's bowers	N
Earth Ocean Air have nought so shy	K
But owns the power of minstrelsy	N
In Lettermore the timid deer	I
Will pause the harp's wild chime to hear	I
Rude Heiskar's seal through surges dark	U
Will long pursue the minstrel's bark	U
To list his notes the eagle proud	I
Will poise him on Ben Cailliach's cloud	I
Then let not Maiden's ear disdain	H
The summons of the minstrel train	H
But while our harps wild music make	V
Edith of Lorn awake awake	V
	-
III	K
'O wake while Dawn with dewy shine	W
Wakes Nature's charms to vie with thine	W
She bids the mottled thrush rejoice	N
To mate thy melody of voice	N
The dew that on the violet lies	N
Mocks the dark lustre of thine eyes	N
But Edith wake and all we see	N
Of sweet and fair shall yield to thee '	-
'She comes not yet ' grey Ferrand cried	I
'Brethren let softer spell be tried	I
Those notes prolong'd that soothing theme	X
Which best may mix with Beauty's dream	X
And whisper with their silvery tone	Y
The hope she loves yet fears to own '	-
He spoke and on the harp strings died	I
The strains of flattery and of pride	I
More soft more low more tender fell	C
The lay of love he bade them tell	C
	-
IV	P
'Wake Maid of Lorn the moments fly	K
Which yet that maiden name allow	Z
Wake Maiden wake the hour is nigh	K
When love shall claim a plighted vow	Z
By Fear thy bosom's fluttering guest	I
By Hope that soon shall fears remove	P
We bid thee break the bonds of rest	I
And wake thee at the call of Love	P
	-
'Wake Edith wake in yonder bay	I
Lies many a galley gaily mann'd	I
We hear the merry pibrochs play	I
We see the streamer's silken band	I
What Chieftain's praise these pibrochs swell	C
What crest is on these banners wove	P
The harp the minstrel dare not tell	C
The riddle must be read by Love '	-
	-
V	P
Retired her maiden train among	O
Edith of Lorn received the song	A2
But tamed the minstrel's pride had been	B2
That had her cold demeanour seen	C2
For not upon her cheek awoke	D2
The glow of pride when Flattery spoke	D2
Nor could their tenderest numbers bring	E2
One sigh responsive to the string	E2
As vainly had her maidens vied	I
In skill to deck the princely bride	I
Her locks in dark brown length array'd	I
Cathleen of Ulne 'twas thine to braid	I
Young Eva with meet reverence drew	I
On the light foot with silken shoe	I
While on the ankle's slender round	I
Those strings of pearl fair Bertha wound	I
That bleach'd Lochryan's depths within	B2
Seem'd dusky still on Edith's skin	B2
But Einion of experience old	I
Had weightiest task the mantle's fold	I
In many an artful plait she tied	I
To show the form it seem'd to hide	I
Till on the floor descending roll'd	I
Its waves of crimson blent with gold	I
	-
VI	K
O lives there now so cold a maid	I
Who thus in beauty's pomp array'd	I
In beauty's proudest pitch of power	I
And conquest won the bridal hour	I
With every charm that wins the heart	I
By Nature given enhanced by Art	I
Could yet the fair reflection view	I
In the bright mirror pictured true	I
And not one dimple on her cheek	F2
A tell tale consciousness bespeak	F2
Lives still such a maid Fair damsels say	I
For further vouches not my lay	I
Save that such lived in Britain's isle	R
When Lorn's bright Edith scorn'd to smile	R
	-
VII	I
But Morag to whose fostering care	I
Proud Lorn had given his daughter fair	I
Morag who saw a mother's aid	I
By all a daughter's love repaid	I
Strict was that bond most kind of all	T
Inviolate in Highland hall	T
Grey Morag sate a space apart	I
In Edith's eyes to read her heart	I
In vain the attendant's fond appeal	G2
To Morag's skill to Morag's zeal	G2
She mark'd her child receive their care	I
Cold as the image sculptured fair	I
Form of some sainted patroness	N
Which cloister'd maids combine to dress	N
She mark'd and knew her nursling's heart	I
In the vain pomp took little part	I
Wistful a while she gazed then press'd	I
The maiden to her anxious breast	I
In finish'd loveliness and led	I
To where a turret's airy head	I
Slender and steep and battled round	I
O'erlook'd dark Mull thy mighty Sound	I
Where thwarting tides with mingled roar	I
Part thy swarth hills from Morven's shore	I
	-
VIII	I
'Daughter ' she said 'these seas behold	I
Round twice a hundred islands roll'd	I
From Hirt that hears their northern roar	I
Or mainland turn where many a tower	I
Owns thy bold brother's feudal power	I
Each on its own dark cape reclined	I
And listening to its own wild wind	I
From where Mingarry sternly placed	I
O'erawes the woodland and the waste	I
To where Dunstaffnage hears the raging	E2
Of Connal with his rocks engaging	E2
Think'st thou amid this ample round	I
A single brow but thine has frown'd	I
To sadden this auspicious morn	H2
That bids the daughter of high Lorn	H2
Impledge her spousal faith to wed	I
The heir of mighty Somerled	I
Ronald from many a hero sprung	O
The fair the valiant and the young	O
Lord of the Isles whose lofty name	S
A thousand bards have given to fame	S
The mate of monarchs and allied	I
On equal terms with England's pride	I
From Chieftain's tower to bondsman's cot	I
Who hears the tale and triumphs not	I
The damsel dons he	P