The Lord Of The Isles: Canto Ii Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCBCCCCDD AEEAACCFFGGCCHHEIIE AJJCCKKIILMAANNAKCC AOOOPQQQPRRSSLLLTLT ALLURRRUCCEVVEWWE AXXACCAYYARRLLZLLZYY A2AYA ARRLLRAARLLLCRRC ARRAAAARRB2B2CCCCRRR RRARA YLLRRCCALLLACCLL YAALDDLDDDCLCCC2C2YY RRLRRLAA YL RRYYD2D2CC LLAALLCC YR AAYYRRLL RRAAC2C2LL YR RRE2E2EELL RRAARRLL AYYD2D2RRAAJJYYRRREE F2F2CCAARRYY ACCYYCCAAYYRRRRAARRL LDD ARRCCG2H2AAAACCC2C2R R AAELLCYYYRRAACCRRRRL L ARRYYI2I2LLRRCCAARRA A YRRJ2J2CCCCRRYYB2B2A ARRC2C2B2B2AARRJ2J2 YC2C2LLRRRRRRK2K2C2C 2RRRRYYCCLLRR YLLLLPPYYLCCLAALRRRL ARR YCCRCCRRRRAAR YRRRCRRRCAARCCYRRY AAALRRLLLDDYYRR AYYLLRRRCCRRRRAAYL2 AC2C2RRCCRRLLRRCCCCR RRRRRRRCCM2M2 ARRN2N2RRLLYYO2O2RRA AYY ACCP2P2B2B2CCRRAARRC CCCAARRRRYYRRC2C2RR YQ2Q2DDDRRJ2J2CCLLAA RRAAYYYDDDDAACC YRRYYRRRRDDK2K2 YRRCCRRRRYYDDRRJJ YAADDDDRRRRRRC2C2RRC 2C2DDYYJJRRYYK2K2CCP 2P2CCC| I | A |
| Fill the bright goblet spread the festive board | B |
| Summon the gay the noble and the fair | C |
| Through the loud hall in joyous concert pour'd | B |
| Let mirth and music sound the dirge of Care | C |
| But ask thou not if Happiness be there | C |
| If the loud laugh disguise convulsive throe | C |
| Or if the brow the heart's true livery wear | C |
| Lift not the festal mask enough to know | D |
| No scene of mortal life but teems with mortal woe | D |
| - | |
| II | A |
| With beaker's clang with harpers' lay | E |
| With all that olden time deem'd gay | E |
| The Island Chieftain feasted high | A |
| But there was in his troubled eye | A |
| A gloomy fire and on his brow | C |
| Now sudden flush'd and faded now | C |
| Emotions such as draw their birth | F |
| From deeper source than festal mirth | F |
| By fits he paused and harper's strain | G |
| And jester's tale went round in vain | G |
| Or fell but on his idle ear | C |
| Like distant sounds which dreamers hear | C |
| Then would he rouse him and employ | H |
| Each art to aid the clamorous joy | H |
| And call for pledge and lay | E |
| And for brief space of all the crowd | I |
| As he was loudest of the loud | I |
| Seem gayest of the gay | E |
| - | |
| III | A |
| Yet nought amiss the bridal throng | J |
| Mark'd in brief mirth or musing long | J |
| The vacant brow the unlistening ear | C |
| They gave to thoughts of raptures near | C |
| And his fierce starts of sudden glee | K |
| Seem'd bursts of bridegroom's ecstasy | K |
| Nor thus alone misjudged the crowd | I |
| Since lofty Lorn suspicious proud | I |
| And jealous of his honour'd line | L |
| And that keen knight De Argentine | M |
| From England sent on errand high | A |
| The western league more firm to tie | A |
| Both deem'd in Ronald's mood to find | N |
| A lover's transport troubled mind | N |
| But one sad heart one tearful eye | A |
| Pierced deeper through the mystery | K |
| And watch'd with agony and fear | C |
| Her wayward bridegroom's varied cheer | C |
| - | |
| IV | A |
| She watch'd yet fear'd to meet his glance | O |
| And he shunn'd hers till when by chance | O |
| They met the point of foeman's lance | O |
| Had given a milder pang | P |
| Beneath the intolerable smart | Q |
| He writhed then sternly mann'd his heart | Q |
| To play his hard but destined part | Q |
| And from the table sprang | P |
| Fill me the mighty cup he said | R |
| Erst own'd by royal Somerled | R |
| Fill it till on the studded brim | S |
| In burning gold the bubbles swim | S |
| And every gem of varied shine | L |
| Glow doubly bright in rosy wine | L |
| To you brave Lord and brother mine | L |
| Of Lorn this pledge I drink | T |
| The Union of Our House with thine | L |
| By this fair bridal link | T |
| - | |
| V | A |
| Let it pass round quoth He of Lorn | L |
| And in good time that winded horn | L |
| Must of the Abbot tell | U |
| The laggard monk is come at last | R |
| Lord Ronald heard the bugle blast | R |
| And on the floor at random cast | R |
| The untasted goblet fell | U |
| But when the Warder in his ear | C |
| Tells other news his blither cheer | C |
| Returns like sun of May | E |
| When through a thunder cloud it beams | V |
| Lord of two hundred isles he seems | V |
| As glad of brief delay | E |
| As some poor criminal might feel | W |
| When from the gibbet or the wheel | W |
| Respited for a day | E |
| - | |
| VI | A |
| Brother of Lorn with hurried voice | X |
| He said and you fair lords rejoice | X |
| Here to augment our glee | A |
| Come wandering knights from travel far | C |
| Well proved they say in strife of war | C |
| And tempest on the sea | A |
| Ho give them at your board such place | Y |
| As best their presences may grace | Y |
| And bid them welcome free | A |
| With solemn step and silver wand | R |
| The Seneschal the presence scann'd | R |
| Of these strange guests and well he knew | L |
| How to assign their rank its due | L |
| For though the costly furs | Z |
| That erst had deck'd their caps were torn | L |
| And their gay robes were over worn | L |
| And soil'd their gilded spurs | Z |
| Yet such a high commanding grace | Y |
| Was in their mien and in their face | Y |
| As suited best the princely dais | A2 |
| And royal canopy | A |
| And there he marshall'd them their place | Y |
| First of that company | A |
| - | |
| VII | A |
| Then lords and ladies spake aside | R |
| And angry looks the error chide | R |
| That gave to guests unnamed unknown | L |
| A place so near their prince's throne | L |
| But Owen Erraught said | R |
| For forty tears a seneschal | A |
| To marshal guests in bower and hall | A |
| Has been my honour'd trade | R |
| Worship and birth to me are known | L |
| By look by bearing and by tone | L |
| Not by furr'd robe or broider'd zone | L |
| And 'gainst an oaken bough | C |
| I'll gage my silver wand of state | R |
| That these three strangers oft have sate | R |
| In higher place than now | C |
| - | |
| VIII | A |
| I too the aged Ferrand said | R |
| Am qualified by minstrel trade | R |
| Of rank and place to tell | A |
| Mark'd ye the younger stranger's eye | A |
| My mates how quick how keen how high | A |
| How fierce its flashes fell | A |
| Glancing among the noble rout | R |
| As if to seek the noblest out | R |
| Because the owner might not brook | B2 |
| On any save his peers to look | B2 |
| And yet it moves me more | C |
| That steady calm majestic brow | C |
| With which the elder chief even now | C |
| Scann'd the gay presence o'er | C |
| Life being of superior kind | R |
| In whose high toned impartial mind | R |
| Degrees of mortal rank and state | R |
| Seem objects of indifferent weight | R |
| The lady too though closely tied | R |
| Her motions' veil both face and eye | A |
| Her motions' grace it could not hide | R |
| Nor could her form's fair symmetry | A |
| - | |
| IX | Y |
| Suspicious doubt and lordly scorn | L |
| Lour'd on the haughty front of Lorn | L |
| From underneath his brows of pride | R |
| The stranger guests her sternly eyed | R |
| And whisper'd closely what the ear | C |
| Of Argentine alone might hear | C |
| Then question'd high and brief | A |
| If in their voyage aught they knew | L |
| Of the rebellious Scottish crew | L |
| Who to Rath Erin's shelter drew | L |
| With Carrick's outlaw'd Chief | A |
| And if their winter's exile o'er | C |
| They harbour'd still by Ulster's shore | C |
| Or launch'd their galleys on the main | L |
| To vex their native land again | L |
| - | |
| X | Y |
| That younger stranger fierce and high | A |
| At once confronts the Chieftain's eye | A |
| With look of equal scorn | L |
| Of rebels have we nought to show | D |
| But if of royal Bruce thou'dst know | D |
| I warn thee he has sworn | L |
| Ere thrice three days shall come and go | D |
| His banner Scottish winds shall blow | D |
| Despite each mean or mighty foe | D |
| From England's every bill and bow | C |
| To Allaster of Lorn | L |
| Kindled the mountain Chieftain's ire | C |
| But Ronald quench'd the rising fire | C |
| Brother it better suits the time | C2 |
| To chase the night with Ferrand's rhyme | C2 |
| Than wake 'midst mirth and wine the jars | Y |
| That flow from these unhappy wars | Y |
| Content said Lorn and spoke apart | R |
| With Ferrand master of his art | R |
| Then whisper'd Argentine | L |
| The lay I named will carry smart | R |
| To these bold strangers' haughty heart | R |
| If right his guess of mine | L |
| He ceased and it was silence all | A |
| Until the minstrel waked the hall | A |
| - | |
| XI | Y |
| The Broach of Lorn | L |
| - | |
| Whence the broach of burning gold | R |
| That clasps the Chieftain's mantle fold | R |
| Wrought and chased with rare device | Y |
| Studded fair with gems of price | Y |
| On the varied tartans beaming | D2 |
| As through night's pale rainbow gleaming | D2 |
| Fainter now now seen afar | C |
| Fitful shines the northern star | C |
| - | |
| Gem ne'er wrought on Highland mountain | L |
| Did the fairy of the fountain | L |
| Or the mermaid of the wave | A |
| Frame thee in some coral cave | A |
| Did in Iceland's darksome mine | L |
| Dwarf's swart hands thy metal twine | L |
| Or mortal moulded comest thou here | C |
| From England's love or France's fear | C |
| - | |
| XII | Y |
| Song Continued | R |
| - | |
| No thy splendours nothing tell | A |
| Foreign art or faery spell | A |
| Moulded thou for monarch's use | Y |
| By the overweening Bruce | Y |
| When the royal robe he tied | R |
| O'er a heart of wrath and pride | R |
| Thence in triumph wert thou torn | L |
| By the victor hand of Lorn | L |
| - | |
| When the gem was won and lost | R |
| Widely was the war cry toss'd | R |
| Rung aloud Bendourish fell | A |
| Answer'd Douchart's sounding dell | A |
| Fled the deer from wild Teyndrum | C2 |
| When the homicide o'ercome | C2 |
| Hardly 'scaped with scathe and scorn | L |
| Left the pledge with conquering Lorn | L |
| - | |
| XIII | Y |
| Song Continued | R |
| - | |
| Vain was then the Douglas brand | R |
| Vain the Campbell's vaunted hand | R |
| Vain Kirkpatrick's bloody dirk | E2 |
| Making sure of murder's work | E2 |
| Barendown fled fast away | E |
| Fled the fiery De la Haye | E |
| When this broach triumphant borne | L |
| Beam'd upon the breast of Lorn | L |
| - | |
| Farthest fled its former Lord | R |
| Left his men to brand and cord | R |
| Bloody brand of Highland steel | A |
| English gibbet axe and wheel | A |
| Let him fly from coast to coast | R |
| Dogg'd by Comyn's vengeful ghost | R |
| While his spoils in triumph worn | L |
| Long shall grace victorious Lorn | L |
| - | |
| XIV | A |
| As glares the tiger on his foes | Y |
| Hemm'd in by hunters spears and bows | Y |
| And ere he bounds upon the ring | D2 |
| Selects the object of his spring | D2 |
| Now on the Bard now on his Lord | R |
| So Edward glared and grasp'd his sword | R |
| But stern his brother spoke Be still | A |
| What art thou yet so wild of will | A |
| After high deeds and sufferings long | J |
| To chafe thee for a menial's song | J |
| Well hast thou framed Old Man thy strains | Y |
| To praise the hand that pays thy pains | Y |
| Yet something might thy song have told | R |
| Of Lorn's three vassals true and bold | R |
| Who rent their Lord from Bruce's hold | R |
| As underneath his knee he lay | E |
| And died to save him in the fray | E |
| I've heard the Bruce's cloak and clasp | F2 |
| Was clench'd within their dying grasp | F2 |
| What time a hundred foemen more | C |
| Rush'd in and back the victor bore | C |
| Long after Lorn had left the strife | A |
| Full glad to 'scape with limb and life | A |
| Enough of this And Minstrel hold | R |
| As minstrel hire this chain of gold | R |
| For future lays a fair excuse | Y |
| To speak more nobly of the Bruce | Y |
| - | |
| XV | A |
| Now by Columba's shrine I swear | C |
| And every saint that's buried there | C |
| 'Tis he himself Lorn sternly cries | Y |
| And for my kinsman's death he dies | Y |
| As loudly Ronald calls Forbear | C |
| Not in my sight wile brand I wear | C |
| O'ermatch'd by odds shall warrior fall | A |
| Or blood of stranger stain my hall | A |
| This ancient fortress of my race | Y |
| Shall be misfortune's resting place | Y |
| Shelter and shield of the distress'd | R |
| No slaughter house for shipwreck'd guest | R |
| Of odds or match when Comyn died | R |
| Three daggers clash'd within his side | R |
| Talk not to me of sheltering hall | A |
| The Church of God saw Comyn fall | A |
| On God's own altar stream'd his blood | R |
| While o'er my prostrate kinsman stood | R |
| The ruthless murderer e'en as now | L |
| With armed hand and scornful brow | L |
| Up all who love me blow on blow | D |
| And lay the outlaw'd felons low | D |
| - | |
| XVI | A |
| Then up sprang many a mainland Lord | R |
| Obedient to their Chieftain's word | R |
| Barcaldine's arm is high in air | C |
| And Kinloch Alline's blade is bare | C |
| Black Murthok's dirk has left its sheath | G2 |
| And clench'd is Dermid's hand of death | H2 |
| Their mutter'd threats of vengeance swell | A |
| Into a wild and warlike yell | A |
| Onward they press with weapons high | A |
| The affrighted females shriek and fly | A |
| And Scotland then thy brightest ray | C |
| Had darken'd ere its noon of day | C |
| But every chief of birth and fame | C2 |
| That from the Isles of Ocean came | C2 |
| At Ronald's side that hour withstood | R |
| Fierce Lorn's relentless thirst for blood | R |
| - | |
| XVII | A |
| Brave Torquil from Dunvegan high | A |
| Lord of the misty hills of Skye | E |
| Mac Niel wild Bara's ancient thane | L |
| Duart of bold Clan Gillian's strain | L |
| Fergus of Canna's castled bay | C |
| Mac Duffith Lord of Colonsay | Y |
| Soon as they saw the broadswords glance | Y |
| With ready weapons rose at once | Y |
| More prompt that many an ancient feud | R |
| Full oft suppress'd full oft renew'd | R |
| Glow'd 'twixt the chieftains of Argyle | A |
| And many a lord of ocean's isle | A |
| Wild was the scene each sword was bare | C |
| Back stream'd each chieftain's shaggy hair | C |
| In gloomy opposition set | R |
| Eyes hands and brandish'd weapons met | R |
| Blue gleaming o'er the social board | R |
| Flash'd to the torches many a sword | R |
| And soon those bridal lights may shine | L |
| On purple blood for rosy wine | L |
| - | |
| XVIII | A |
| While thus for blows and death prepared | R |
| Each heart was up and weapon bared | R |
| Each foot advanced a surly pause | Y |
| Still reverenced hospitable laws | Y |
| All menaced violence but alike | I2 |
| Reluctant each the first to strike | I2 |
| For aye accursed in minstrel line | L |
| Is he who brawls 'mid song and wine | L |
| And match'd in numbers and in might | R |
| Doubtful and desperate seem'd the fight | R |
| Thus threat and murmur died away | C |
| Till on the crowded hall there lay | C |
| Such silence as the deadly still | A |
| Ere bursts the thunder on the hill | A |
| With blade advanced each Chieftain bold | R |
| Show'd like the Sworder's form of old | R |
| As wanting still the torch of life | A |
| To wake the marble into strife | A |
| - | |
| XIX | Y |
| That awful pause the stranger maid | R |
| And Edith seized to pray for aid | R |
| As to De Argentine she clung | J2 |
| Away her veil the stranger flung | J2 |
| And lovely 'mid her wild despair | C |
| Fast stream'd her eyes wide flow'd her hair | C |
| O thou of knighthood once the flower | C |
| Sure refuge in distressful hour | C |
| Thou who in Judah well hast fought | R |
| For our dear faith and oft hast sought | R |
| Renown in knightly exercise | Y |
| When this poor hand has dealt the prize | Y |
| Say can thy soul of honour brook | B2 |
| On the unequal strife to look | B2 |
| When butcher'd thus in peaceful hall | A |
| Those once thy friends my brethren fall | A |
| To Argentine she turn'd her word | R |
| But her eye sought the Island Lord | R |
| A flush like evening's setting flame | C2 |
| Glow'd on his cheek his hardy frame | C2 |
| As with a brief convulsion shook | B2 |
| With hurried voice and eager look | B2 |
| Fear not he said my Isabel | A |
| What said I Edith all is well | A |
| Nay fear not I will well provide | R |
| The safety of my lovely bride | R |
| My bride but there the accents clung | J2 |
| In tremor to his faltering tongue | J2 |
| - | |
| XX | Y |
| Now rose De Argentine to claim | C2 |
| The prisoners in his sovereign's name | C2 |
| To England's crown who vassals sworn | L |
| 'Gainst their liege lord had weapon borne | L |
| Such speech I ween was but to hide | R |
| His care their safety to provide | R |
| For knight more true in thought and deed | R |
| Than Argentine ne'er spurr'd a steed | R |
| And Ronald who his meaning guess'd | R |
| Seem'd half to sanction the request | R |
| This purpose fiery Torquil broke | K2 |
| Somewhat we've heard of England's yoke | K2 |
| He said and in our islands Fame | C2 |
| Hath whisper'd of a lawful claim | C2 |
| That calls the Bruce fair Scotland's Lord | R |
| Though dispossess'd by foreign sword | R |
| This craves reflection but though right | R |
| And just the charge of England's Knight | R |
| Let England's crown her rebels seize | Y |
| Where she has power in towers like these | Y |
| 'Midst Scottish Chieftains summon'd here | C |
| To bridal mirth and bridal cheer | C |
| Be sure with no consent of mine | L |
| Shall either Lorn or Argentine | L |
| With chains or violence in our sight | R |
| Oppress a brave and banish'd Knight | R |
| - | |
| XXI | Y |
| Then waked the wild debate again | L |
| With brawling threat and clamour vain | L |
| Vassals and menials thronging in | L |
| Lent their brute rage to swell the din | L |
| When far and wide a bugle clang | P |
| From the dark ocean upward rang | P |
| The Abbot comes they cry at once | Y |
| The holy man whose favour'd glance | Y |
| Hath sainted visions known | L |
| Angels have met him on the way | C |
| Beside the blessed martyr's bay | C |
| And by Columba's stone | L |
| His monks have heard their hymnings high | A |
| Sound from the summit of Dun Y | A |
| To cheer his penance lone | L |
| When at each cross on girth and wold | R |
| Their number thrice a hundred fold | R |
| His prayer he made his beads he told | R |
| With Aves many a one | L |
| He comes man from sainted isle | A |
| We will his holy doom abide | R |
| The Abbot shall our strife decide | R |
| - | |
| XXII | Y |
| Scarcely this fair accord was o'er | C |
| When through the wide revolving door | C |
| The black stol'd brethren wind | R |
| Twelve sandall'd monks who relics bore | C |
| With many a torch bearer before | C |
| And many a cross behind | R |
| Then sunk each fierce uplifted hand | R |
| And dagger bright and flashing brand | R |
| Dropp'd swiftly at the sight | R |
| They vanish'd from the Churchman's eye | A |
| As shooting stars that glance and die | A |
| Dart from the vault of night | R |
| - | |
| XXIII | Y |
| The Abbot on the threshold stood | R |
| And in his hand the holy rood | R |
| Back on his shoulders flow'd his hood | R |
| The torch's glaring ray | C |
| Show'd in its red and flashing light | R |
| His wither'd cheek and amice white | R |
| His blue eye glistening cold and bright | R |
| His tresses scant and grey | C |
| Fair Lords he said Our Lady's love | A |
| And peace be with you from above | A |
| And Benedicite | R |
| But what means this no peace is here | C |
| Do dirks unsheathed suit bridal cheer | C |
| Or are these naked brands | Y |
| A seemly show for Churchman's sight | R |
| When he comes summon'd to unite | R |
| Betrothed hearts and hands | Y |
| - | |
| XXIV | A |
| Then cloaking hate with fiery zeal | A |
| Proud Lorn first answer'd the appeal | A |
| Thou comest O holy Man | L |
| True sons of blessed church to greet | R |
| But little deeming here to meet | R |
| A wretch beneath the ban | L |
| Of Pope and Church for murder done | L |
| Even on the sacred altar stone | L |
| Well may'st thou wonder we should know | D |
| Such miscreant here nor lay him low | D |
| Or dream of greeting peace or truce | Y |
| With excommunicated Bruce | Y |
| Yet well I grant to end debate | R |
| Thy sainted voice decide his fate | R |
| - | |
| XXV | A |
| Then Ronald pled the stranger's cause | Y |
| And knighthood's oath and honour's laws | Y |
| And Isabel on bended knee | L |
| Brought pray'rs and tears to back the plea | L |
| And Edith lent her generous aid | R |
| And wept and Lorn for mercy pray'd | R |
| Hence he exclaim'd degenerate maid | R |
| Was't not enough to Ronald's bower | C |
| I brought thee like a paramour | C |
| Or bond maid at her master's gate | R |
| His careless cold approach to wait | R |
| But the bold Lord of Cumberland | R |
| The gallant Clifford seeks thy hand | R |
| His it shall be Nay no reply | A |
| Hence till those rebel eyes be dry | A |
| With grief the Abbot heard and saw | Y |
| Yet nought relax'd his brow of awe | L2 |
| - | |
| XXVI | A |
| Then Argentine in England's name | C2 |
| So highly urged his sovereign's claim | C2 |
| He wak'd a spark that long suppress'd | R |
| Had smoulder'd in Lord Ronald's breast | R |
| And now as from the flint of fire | C |
| Flash'd forth at once his generous ire | C |
| Enough of noble blood he said | R |
| By English Edward had been shed | R |
| Since matchless Wallace first had been | L |
| In mock'ry crown'd with wreaths of green | L |
| And done to death by felon hand | R |
| For guarding well his father's land | R |
| Where's Nigel Bruce and De la Haye | C |
| And valiant Seton where are they | C |
| Where Somerville the kind and free | C |
| And Fraser flower of chivalry | C |
| Have they not been on gibbet bound | R |
| Their quarters flung to hawk and hound | R |
| And hold we here a cold debate | R |
| To yield more victims to their fate | R |
| What can the English Leopard's mood | R |
| Never be gorged with northern blood | R |
| Was not the life of Athole shed | R |
| To soothe the tyrant's sicken'd bed | R |
| And must his word till dying day | C |
| Be nought but quarter hang and slay | C |
| Thou frown'st De Argentine My gage | M2 |
| Is prompt to prove the strife I wage | M2 |
| - | |
| XXVII | A |
| Nor deem said stout Dunvegan's knight | R |
| That thou shalt brave alone the fight | R |
| By saints of isle and mainland both | N2 |
| By Woden wild my grandsire's oath | N2 |
| Let Rome and England do their worst | R |
| Howe'er attainted or accurs'd | R |
| If Bruce shall e'er find friends again | L |
| Once more to brave a battle plain | L |
| If Douglas couch again his lance | Y |
| Or Randolph dare another chance | Y |
| Old Torquil will not be to lack | O2 |
| With twice a thousand at his back | O2 |
| Nay chafe not at my bearing bold | R |
| Good Abbot for thou know'st of old | R |
| Torquil's rude thought and stubborn will | A |
| Smack of the wild Norwegian still | A |
| Nor will I barter Freedom's cause | Y |
| For England's wealth or Rome's applause | Y |
| - | |
| XXVIII | A |
| The Abbot seem'd with eye severe | C |
| The hardy Chieftain's speech to hear | C |
| Then on King Robert turn'd the Monk | P2 |
| But twice his courage came and sunk | P2 |
| Confronted with the hero's look | B2 |
| Twice fell his eye his accents shook | B2 |
| At length resolved in tone and brow | C |
| Sternly he question'd him And thou | C |
| Unhappy what hast thou to plead | R |
| Why I denounce not on thy deed | R |
| That awful doom which canons tell | A |
| Shuts paradise and opens hell | A |
| Anathema of power so dread | R |
| It blends the living with the dead | R |
| Bids each good angel soar away | C |
| And every ill one claim his prey | C |
| Expels thee from the church's care | C |
| And deafens Heaven against thy prayer | C |
| Arms every hand against thy life | A |
| Bans all who aid thee in the strife | A |
| Nay each whose succour cold and scant | R |
| With meanest alms relieves thy want | R |
| Haunts thee while living and when dead | R |
| Dwells on thy yet devoted head | R |
| Rends Honour's scutcheon from thy hearse | Y |
| Stills o'er thy bier the holy verse | Y |
| And spurns thy corpse from hallow'd ground | R |
| Flung like vile carrion to the hound | R |
| Such is the dire and desperate doom | C2 |
| For sacrilege decreed by Rome | C2 |
| And such the well deserved meed | R |
| Of thine unhallow'd ruthless deed | R |
| - | |
| XXIX | Y |
| Abbot the Bruce replied thy charge | Q2 |
| It boots not to dispute at large | Q2 |
| This much howe'er I bid thee know | D |
| No selfish vengeance dealt the blow | D |
| For Comyn died his country's foe | D |
| Nor blame I friends whose ill timed speed | R |
| Fulfill'd my soon repented deed | R |
| Nor censer those from whose stern tongue | J2 |
| The dire anathema has rung | J2 |
| I only blame mine own wild ire | C |
| By Scotland's wrongs incensed to fire | C |
| Heaven knows my purpose to atone | L |
| Far as I may the evil done | L |
| And hears a penitent's appeal | A |
| From papal curse and prelate's zeal | A |
| My first and dearest task achieved | R |
| Fair Scotland from her thrall relieved | R |
| Shall many a priest in cope and stole | A |
| Say requiem for Red Comyn's soul | A |
| While I the blessed cross advance | Y |
| And expiate this unhappy chance | Y |
| In Palestine with sword and lance | Y |
| But while content the Church should know | D |
| My conscience owns the debt I owe | D |
| Unto De Argentine and Lorn | D |
| The name of traitor I return | D |
| Bid them defiance stern and high | A |
| And give them in their throats the lie | A |
| These brief words spoke I speak no more | C |
| Do what thou wilt my shrift is o'er | C |
| - | |
| XXX | Y |
| Like man by prodigy amazed | R |
| Upon the King the Abbot gazed | R |
| Then o'er his pallid features glance | Y |
| Convulsions of ecstatic trance | Y |
| His breathing came more thick and fast | R |
| And from his pale blue eyes were cast | R |
| Strange rays of wild and wandering light | R |
| Uprise his locks of silver white | R |
| Flush'd in his brow through every vein | D |
| In azure tide the currents strain | D |
| And undistinguished accents broke | K2 |
| The awful silence ere he spoke | K2 |
| - | |
| XXXI | Y |
| De Bruce I rose with purpose dread | R |
| To speak my curse upon thy head | R |
| And give thee as an outcast o'er | C |
| To him who burns to shed thy gore | C |
| But like the Midianite of old | R |
| Who stood on Zophim Heaven controll'd | R |
| I feel within mine aged breast | R |
| A power that will not be repress'd | R |
| It prompts my voice it swells my veins | Y |
| It burns it maddens it constrains | Y |
| De Bruce thy sacrilegious blow | D |
| Hath at God's altar slain thy foe | D |
| O'ermaster'd yet by high behest | R |
| I bless thee and thou shalt be bless'd | R |
| He spoke and o'er the astonish'd throng | J |
| Was silence awful deep and long | J |
| - | |
| XXXII | Y |
| Again that light has fired his eye | A |
| Again his form swells bold and high | A |
| The broken voice of age is gone | D |
| 'Tis vigorous manhood's lofty tone | D |
| Thrice vanquish'd on the battle plain | D |
| Thy followers slaughter'd fled or ta'en | D |
| A hunted wanderer on the wild | R |
| On foreign shores a man exiled | R |
| Disown'd deserted and distress'd | R |
| I bless thee and thou shalt be bless'd | R |
| Bless'd in the hall and in the field | R |
| Under the mantle as the shield | R |
| Avenger of thy country's shame | C2 |
| Restorer of her injured fame | C2 |
| Bless'd in thy sceptre and thy sword | R |
| De Bruce fair Scotland's rightful Lord | R |
| Bless'd in thy deeds and in thy fame | C2 |
| What lengthen'd honours wait thy name | C2 |
| In distant ages sire to son | D |
| Shall tell thy tale of freedom won | D |
| And teach his infants in the use | Y |
| Of earliest speech to falter Bruce | Y |
| Go then triumphant sweep along | J |
| Thy course the theme of many a song | J |
| The Power whose dictates swell my breast | R |
| Hath bless'd thee and thou shalt be bless'd | R |
| Enough my short lived strength decays | Y |
| And sinks the momentary blaze | Y |
| Heaven hath our destined purpose broke | K2 |
| Not here must nuptial vow he spoke | K2 |
| Brethren our errand here is o'er | C |
| Our task discharged Unmoor unmoor | C |
| His priests received the exhausted Monk | P2 |
| As breathless in their arms he sunk | P2 |
| Punctual his orders to obey | C |
| The train refused all longer stay | C |
| Embark'd raised sail and bore away | C |
Walter Scott (sir)
(1)
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About The Lord Of The Isles: Canto Ii
The Lord Of The Isles: Canto Ii is a poem by Walter Scott (sir). This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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