The Lay Of The Last Minstrel: Canto Iii Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABBCCDEEFGG AHHIIJDD AIIIKIKILLIMMI DEENNDODOIIPP DQRSRTTUUVV DQQWWXXWWYYYZA2B2B2I I DPPLPLOOC2D2LLLL DE2E2F2F2G2G2H2H2PP B2I2I2IIJ2J2K2L2CCMM M2M2N2N2O2O2 B2P2P2IITCL2L2DDL2L2 A2A2DD B2NNB2B2M2M2B2B2K2K2 CQ2CR2B2PP B2S2S2F2F2F2B2B2T2T2 B2P2G2P2G2T2T2IIT2T2 T2T2T2T2 DU2B2U2R2K2K2B2B2B2B 2IIB2B2T2T2 DV2B2T2T2B2B2B2W2W2B 2B2B2DT2T2X2T2T2X2W2 W2 DT2T2B2T2B2B2B2B2Y2B 2B2B2B2T2T2B2B2 DIB2IB2IB2IB2T2T2 DZ2Z2B2B2B2B2B2B2B2 B2B2A3B2B2T2T2T2B2Y2 B2 B2W2DIIT2B2T2B2B2B2I I B2B2B2B2W2W2A3B2B2B2 B2B2B2T2T2T2T2 B2T2T2IIDB3DB3T2T2T2 T2 B2T2T2T2T2B2B2B2B2T2 T2B2T2B2B2B2 DB2B2C3C3B2B2T2T2III IT2T2B2B2 DIIT2T2B2B2D3D3 DB3B3T2T2B2B2T2T2T2T 2G2G2 DB2B2T2T2B2B2T2T2IIT 2B2B2B2DDB2B2 DT2T2E3T2E3T2B2T2T2F 3T2F3B2B2 B2T2T2IDDIIIT2T2T2T2 IIT2T2B2B2B2B2 B2G3B2G3B2B2B2B2B2T2 T2II B2B2B2B2H3H3T2T2T2IT 2IB2B2IB2B2B3B3H3I3B 2B2B2B2T2T2B2B2B2B2I | A |
And said I that my limbs were old | B |
And said I that my blood was cold | B |
And that my kindly fire was fled | C |
And my poor wither'd heart was dead | C |
And that I might not sing of love | D |
How could I to the dearest theme | E |
That ever warm'd a minstrel's dream | E |
So foul so false a recreant prove | F |
How could I name love's very name | G |
Nor wake my heart to notes of flame | G |
- | |
II | A |
In peace Love tunes the shepherd's reed | H |
In war he mounts the warrior's steed | H |
In halls in gay attire is seen | I |
In hamlets dances on the green | I |
Love rules the court the camp the grove | J |
And men below and saints above | D |
For love is heaven and heaven is love | D |
- | |
III | A |
So thought Lord Cranstoun as I ween | I |
While pondering deep the tender scene | I |
He rode through Branksome's hawthorn green | I |
But the Page shouted wild and shrill | K |
And scarce his helmet could he don | I |
When downward from the shady hill | K |
A stately knight came pricking on | I |
That warrior's steed so dapple gray | L |
Was dark with sveat and splashed with clay | L |
His armor red with many a stain | I |
He seem'd in such a weary plight | M |
As if he had ridden the live long night | M |
For it was William of Deloraine | I |
- | |
IV | D |
But no whit weary did he seem | E |
When dancing in the sunny beam | E |
He mark'd the crane on the Baron's crest | N |
For his ready spear was in his rest | N |
Few were the words and stern and high | D |
That mark'd the foemen's feudal hate | O |
For question fierce and proud reply | D |
Gave signal soon of dire debate | O |
Their very coursers seem'd to know | I |
That each was other's mortal foe | I |
And snorted fire when wheel'd around | P |
To give each foe his vantage ground | P |
- | |
V | D |
In rapid round the Baron bent | Q |
He sigh'd a sigh and pray'd a prayer | R |
The prayer was to his patron saint | S |
The sigh was to his ladye fair | R |
Stout Deloraine nor sigh'd nor pray'd | T |
Nor saint nor ladye call'd to aid | T |
But he stoop'd his head and couch'd his spear | U |
And spurred his steed to full career | U |
The meeting of these champions proud | V |
Seem'd like the bursting thunder cloud | V |
- | |
VI | D |
Stern was the dint the Borderer lent | Q |
The stately Baron backwards bent | Q |
Bent backwards to his horse's tail | W |
And his plumes went scattering on the gale | W |
The tough ash spear so stout and true | X |
Into a thousand flinders flew | X |
But Cranstoun's lance of more avail | W |
Pierc'd through like silk the Borderer's mail | W |
Through shield and jack and acton past | Y |
Deep in his bosom broke at last | Y |
Still sate the warrior saddle fast | Y |
Till stumbling in the mortal shock | Z |
Down went the steed the girthing broke | A2 |
Hurl'd on a heap lay man and horse | B2 |
The Baron onward pass'd his course | B2 |
Nor knew so giddy rolled his brain | I |
His foe lay stretch'd upon the plain | I |
- | |
VII | D |
But when he rein'd his courser round | P |
And saw his foeman on the ground | P |
Lie senseless as the bloody clay | L |
He badehis page to stanch the wound | P |
And there beside the warrior stay | L |
And tend him in his doubtful state | O |
And lead him to Brauksome castle gate | O |
His noble mind was inly moved | C2 |
For the kinsman of the maid he loved | D2 |
This shalt thou do without delay | L |
No longer here myself may stay | L |
Unless the swifter I speed away | L |
Short shrift will be at my dying day | L |
- | |
VIII | D |
Away in speed Lord Cranstoun rode | E2 |
The Goblin Page behind abode | E2 |
His lord's command he ne'er withstood | F2 |
Though small his pleasure to do good | F2 |
As the corslet off he took | G2 |
The Dwarf espied the Mighty Book | G2 |
Much he marvell'd a knight of pride | H2 |
Like a book bosom'd priest should ride | H2 |
He thought not to search or stanch the wound | P |
Until the secret he had found | P |
- | |
IX | B2 |
The iron band the iron clasp | I2 |
Resisted long the elfin grasp | I2 |
For when the first he had undone | I |
It closed as he the next begun | I |
Those iron chlsps that iron band | J2 |
Would not yield to unchristen'd hand | J2 |
Till he smear'd the cover o'er | K2 |
With the Borderer's curdled gore | L2 |
A moment then the volume spread | C |
And one short spell therein he read | C |
It had much of glamour might | M |
Could make a ladye seem a knight | M |
The cobwebs on a dungeon wall | M2 |
Seem tapestry in lordly hall | M2 |
A nut shell seem a gilded barge | N2 |
A sheeling seem a palace large | N2 |
And youth seem age and age seem youth | O2 |
All was delusion nought was truth | O2 |
- | |
X | B2 |
He had not read another spell | P2 |
When on his cheek a buffet fell | P2 |
So fierce it stretch'd him on the plain | I |
Beside the wounded Deloraine | I |
From the ground he rose dismay'd | T |
And shook his huge and matted head | C |
One word he mutter'd and no more | L2 |
Man of age thou smitest sore | L2 |
No more the Elfin Page durst try | D |
Into the wondrous Book to pry | D |
The clasps though smear'd with Christian gore | L2 |
Shut faster than they were before | L2 |
He hid it underneath his cloak | A2 |
Now if you ask who gave the stroke | A2 |
I cannot tell so mot I thrive | D |
It was not given by man alive | D |
- | |
XI | B2 |
Unwillingly himself he address'd | N |
To do his master's high behest | N |
He lifted up the living corse | B2 |
And laid it on the weary horse | B2 |
He led him into Branksome hall | M2 |
Before the beards of the warders all | M2 |
And each did after swear and say | B2 |
There only pass'd a wain of hay | B2 |
He took him to Lord David's tower | K2 |
Even to the Ladye's secret bower | K2 |
And but that stronger spells were spread | C |
And the door might not be opened | Q2 |
He had laid him on her very bed | C |
Whate'er he did of gramarye | R2 |
Was always done maliciously | B2 |
He flung the warrior on the ground | P |
And the blood well'd freshly from the wound | P |
- | |
XII | B2 |
As he repass'd the outer court | S2 |
He spied the fair young child at sport | S2 |
He thought to train him to the wood | F2 |
For at a word be it understood | F2 |
He was always for ill and never for good | F2 |
Seem'd to the boy some comrade gay | B2 |
Led him forth to the woods to play | B2 |
On the drawbridge the warders stout | T2 |
Saw a terrier and lurcher passing out | T2 |
- | |
XIII | B2 |
He led the boy o'er bank and fell | P2 |
Until they came to a woodland brook | G2 |
The running stream dissolv'd the spell | P2 |
And his own elvish shape he took | G2 |
Could he have had his pleasure vilde | T2 |
He had crippled the joints of the noble child | T2 |
Or with his fingers long and lean | I |
Had strangled him in fiendish spleen | I |
But his awful mother he had in dread | T2 |
And also his power was limited | T2 |
So he but scowl'd on the startled child | T2 |
And darted through the forest wild | T2 |
The woodland brook he bounding cross'd | T2 |
And laugh'd and shouted Lost lost lost | T2 |
- | |
XIV | D |
Full sore amaz'd at the wondrous change | U2 |
And frighten'd as a child might be | B2 |
At the wild yell and visage strange | U2 |
And the dark words of gramarye | R2 |
The child amidst the forest bower | K2 |
Stood rooted like a lily flower | K2 |
And when at length with trembling pace | B2 |
He sought to find where Branksome lay | B2 |
He fear'd to see that grisly face | B2 |
Glare from some thicket on his way | B2 |
Thus starting oft he journey'd on | I |
And deeper in the wood is gone | I |
For aye the more he sought his way | B2 |
The farther still he went astray | B2 |
Until he heard the mountains round | T2 |
Ring to the baying of a hound | T2 |
- | |
XV | D |
And hark and hark the deep mouth'd bark | V2 |
Comes nigher still and nigher | B2 |
Bursts on the path a dark blood hound | T2 |
His tawny muzzle track'd the ground | T2 |
And his red eye shot fire | B2 |
Soon as the wilder'd child saw he | B2 |
He flew at him right furiouslie | B2 |
I ween you would have seen with joy | W2 |
The bearing of the gallant boy | W2 |
When worthy of his noble sire | B2 |
His wet cheek glow'd 'twixt fear and ire | B2 |
He faced the blood hound manfully | B2 |
And held his little bat on high | D |
So fierce he struck the dog afraid | T2 |
At cautious distance hoarsely bay'd | T2 |
But still in act to spring | X2 |
When dash'd an archer through the glade | T2 |
And when he saw the hound was stay'd | T2 |
He drew his tough bow string | X2 |
But a rough voice cried Shoot not hoy | W2 |
Ho shoot not Edward 'tis a boy | W2 |
- | |
XVI | D |
The speaker issued from the wood | T2 |
And check'd his fellow's surly mood | T2 |
And quell'd the ban dog's ire | B2 |
He was an English yeoman good | T2 |
And born in Lancashire | B2 |
Well could he hit a fallow deer | B2 |
Five hundred feet him fro | B2 |
With hand more true and eye more clear | B2 |
No archer bended bow | Y2 |
His coal black hair shorn round and close | B2 |
Set off his sun burn'd face | B2 |
Old England's sign St George's cross | B2 |
His barret cap did grace | B2 |
His bugle horn hung by his side | T2 |
All in a wolf skin baldric tied | T2 |
And his short falchion sharp and clear | B2 |
Had pierc'd the throat of many a deer | B2 |
- | |
XVII | D |
His kirtle made of forest green | I |
Reach'd scantly to his knee | B2 |
And at his belt of arrows keen | I |
A furbish'd sheaf bore he | B2 |
His buckler scarce in breadth a span | I |
No larger fence had he | B2 |
He never counted him a man | I |
Would strike below the knee | B2 |
His slacken'd bow was in his hand | T2 |
And the leash that was his blood hound's band | T2 |
- | |
XVIII | D |
He would not do the fair child harm | Z2 |
But held him with his powerful arm | Z2 |
That he might neither fight nor flee | B2 |
For when the Red Cross spied he | B2 |
The boy strove long and violently | B2 |
Now by St George the archer cries | B2 |
Edward methinks we have a prize | B2 |
This boy's fair face and courage free | B2 |
Show he is come of high degree | B2 |
- | |
XIX | B2 |
Yes I am come of high degree | B2 |
For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch | A3 |
And if thou dost not set me free | B2 |
False Southron thou shalt dearly rue | B2 |
For Walter of Harden shall come with speed | T2 |
And William of Deloraine good at need | T2 |
And every Scott from Esk to Tweed | T2 |
And if thou dost not let me go | B2 |
Despite thy arrows and thy bow | Y2 |
I'll have thee hang'd to feed the crow | B2 |
- | |
XX | B2 |
Gramercy for thy good will fair boy | W2 |
My mind was never set so high | D |
But if thou art chief of such a clan | I |
And art the son of such a man | I |
And ever comest to thy command | T2 |
Our wardens had need to keep good order | B2 |
My bow of yew to a hazel wand | T2 |
Thou'lt make them work upon the Border | B2 |
Meantime be pleased to come with me | B2 |
For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see | B2 |
I think our work is well begun | I |
When we have taken thy father's son | I |
- | |
XXI | B2 |
Although the child was led away | B2 |
In Branksome still he seem'd to stay | B2 |
For so the Dwarf his part did play | B2 |
And in the shape of that young boy | W2 |
He wrought the castle much annoy | W2 |
The comrades of the young Buccleuch | A3 |
He pinch'd and beat and overthrew | B2 |
Nay some of them he wellnigh slew | B2 |
He tore Dame Maudlin's silken tire | B2 |
And as Sym Hall stood by the fire | B2 |
He lighted the match of his bandelier | B2 |
And wofully scorch'd the hackbuteer | B2 |
It may be hardly thought or said | T2 |
The mischief that the urchin made | T2 |
Till many of the castle guess'd | T2 |
That the young Baron was possess'd | T2 |
- | |
XXII | B2 |
Well I ween the charm he held | T2 |
The noble Ladye had soon dispell'd | T2 |
But she was deeply busied then | I |
To tend the wounded Deloraine | I |
Much she wonder'd to find him lie | D |
On the stone threshold stretch'd along | B3 |
She thought some spirit of the sky | D |
Had done the bold moss trooper wrong | B3 |
Because despite her precept dread | T2 |
Perchance he in the Book had read | T2 |
But the broken lance in his bosom stood | T2 |
And it was earthly steel and wood | T2 |
- | |
XXIII | B2 |
She drew the splinter from the wound | T2 |
And with a charm she stanch'd the blood | T2 |
She bade the gash be cleans'd and bound | T2 |
No longer by his couch she stood | T2 |
But she has ta'en the broken lance | B2 |
And wash'd it from the clotted gore | B2 |
And salved the splinter o'er and o'er | B2 |
William of Deloraine in trance | B2 |
Whene'er she turn'd it round and round | T2 |
Twisted as if she gall'd his wound | T2 |
Then to her maidens she did say | B2 |
That he should be whole man and sound | T2 |
Within the course of a night and day | B2 |
Full long she toil'd for she did rue | B2 |
Mishap to friend so stout and true | B2 |
- | |
XXIV | D |
So pass'd the day the evening fell | B2 |
'Twas near the time of curfew bell | B2 |
The air was mild the wind was calm | C3 |
The stream was smooth the dew was balm | C3 |
E'en the rude watchman on the tower | B2 |
Enjoy'd and bless'd the lovely hour | B2 |
Far more fair Margaret lov'd and bless'd | T2 |
The hour of silence and of rest | T2 |
On the high turret sitting lone | I |
She waked at times the lute's soft tone | I |
Touch'd a wild note and all between | I |
Thought of the bower of hawthorns green | I |
Her golden hair stream'd free from band | T2 |
Her fair cheek rested on her hand | T2 |
Her blue eyes sought the west afar | B2 |
For lovers love the western star | B2 |
- | |
XXV | D |
Is yon the star o'er Penchryst Pen | I |
That rises slowly to her ken | I |
And spreading broad its wavering light | T2 |
Shakes its loose tresses on the night | T2 |
Is yon red glare the western star | B2 |
O 'tis the beacon blaze of war | B2 |
Scarce could she draw her tighten'd breath | D3 |
For well she knew the fire of death | D3 |
- | |
XXVI | D |
The Warder view'd it blazing strong | B3 |
And blew his war note loud and long | B3 |
Till at the high and haughty sound | T2 |
Rock wood and river rung around | T2 |
The blast alarm'd the festal hall | B2 |
And startled forth the warriors all | B2 |
Far downward in the castle yard | T2 |
Full many a torch and cresset glared | T2 |
And helms and plumes confusedly toss'd | T2 |
Were in the blaze half seen half lost | T2 |
And spears in wild disorder shook | G2 |
Like reeds beside a frozen brook | G2 |
- | |
XXVII | D |
The Seneschal whose silver hair | B2 |
Was redden'd by the torches' glare | B2 |
Stood in the midst with gesture proud | T2 |
And issued forth his mandates loud | T2 |
On Penchryst glows a bale of fire | B2 |
And three are kindling on Priest haughswire | B2 |
Ride out ride out | T2 |
The foe to scout | T2 |
Mount mount for Branksome every man | I |
Thou Todrig warn the Johnstone clan | I |
That ever are true and stout | T2 |
Ye need not send to Liddesdale | B2 |
For when they see the blazing bale | B2 |
Elliots and Armstrongs never fail | B2 |
Ride Alton ride for death and life | D |
And warn the Warder of the strife | D |
Young Gilbert let our beacon blaze | B2 |
Our kin and clan and friends to raise | B2 |
- | |
XXVIII | D |
Fair Margaret from the turret head | T2 |
Heard far below the coursers' tread | T2 |
While loud the harness rung | E3 |
As to their seats with clamor dread | T2 |
The ready horsemen sprung | E3 |
And trampling hoofs and iron coat | T2 |
And leaders' voices mingled notes | B2 |
And out and out | T2 |
In hasty route | T2 |
The horsemen gallop'd forth | F3 |
Dispersing to the south to scout | T2 |
And east and west and north | F3 |
To view their coming enemies | B2 |
And warn their vassals and allies | B2 |
- | |
XXIX | B2 |
The ready page with hurried hand | T2 |
Awaked the need fire's slumbering brand | T2 |
And ruddy blush'd the heaven | I |
For a sheet of flame from the turret high | D |
Wav'd like a blood flag on the sky | D |
All flaring and uneven | I |
And soon a score of fires I ween | I |
From height and hill and cliff were seen | I |
Each with warlike tidings fraught | T2 |
Each from each the signal caught | T2 |
Each after each they glanc'd to sight | T2 |
As stars arise upon the night | T2 |
They gleam d on many a dusky tarn | I |
Haunted by the lonely earn | I |
On many a cairn's grey pyramid | T2 |
Where urns of mighty chiefs lie hid | T2 |
Till high Dunedin the blazes saw | B2 |
From Soltra and Dumpender Law | B2 |
And Lothian heard the Regent's order | B2 |
That all should bowne them for the Border | B2 |
- | |
XXX | B2 |
The livelong night in Branksome rang | G3 |
The ceaseles sound of steel | B2 |
The castle bell with backward clang | G3 |
Sent forth the larum peal | B2 |
Was frequent heard the heavy jar | B2 |
Where massy stone and iron bar | B2 |
Were piled on echoing keep and tower | B2 |
To whelm the foe with deadly shower | B2 |
Was frequent heard the changing guard | T2 |
And watch word from the sleepless ward | T2 |
While wearied by the endless din | I |
Blood hound and ban dog yell'd within | I |
- | |
XXXI | B2 |
The noble Dame amid the broil | B2 |
Shared the grey Seneschal's high toil | B2 |
And spoke of danger with a smile | B2 |
Cheer'd the young knights and council sage | H3 |
Held with the chiefs of riper age | H3 |
No tidings of the foe were brought | T2 |
Nor of his numbers knew they aught | T2 |
Nor what in time of truce he sought | T2 |
Some said that there were thousands ten | I |
And others ween'd that it was nought | T2 |
But Leven clans or Tynedale men | I |
Who came to gather in black mail | B2 |
And Liddesdale with small avail | B2 |
Might drive them lightly back agen | I |
So pass'd the anxious night away | B2 |
And welcome was the peep of day | B2 |
Ceas'd the high sound The listening throng | B3 |
Applaud the Master of the Song | B3 |
And marvel much in helpless age | H3 |
So hard should be his pilgrimage | I3 |
Had he no friend no daughter dear | B2 |
His wandering toil to share and cheer | B2 |
No son to be his father's stay | B2 |
And guide him on the rugged way | B2 |
Ay once he had but he was dead | T2 |
Upon the harp he stoop'd his head | T2 |
And busied himself the strings withal | B2 |
To hide the tear that fain would fall | B2 |
In solemn measure soft and slow | B2 |
Arose a father's notes of woe | B2 |
Walter Scott (sir)
(1)
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