E'en with his dying voice he cried, 

 " Had Keeldar but been at my side, 

 Your treacherous ambush had been spied — 

 I had not died to-day ! " 



Remembrance of the erring bow 



Long since had join'd the tides which flow, 



Conveying human bliss and woe 



Down dark oblivion's river ; 

 But Art can Time's stern doom arrest, 

 And snatch his spoil from Lethe's breast, 

 And, in her Cooper's colours drest, 



The scene shall live for ever. 



Walter Scott. 



The Hunt ^> ^> ^ *^> <^ 



(From The Lady of the Lake) 



HTHE stag at eve had drunk his fill, 



Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, 

 And deep his midnight lair had made 

 In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; 

 But, when the sun his beacon red 

 Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, 

 The deep-mouth'd bloodhound's heavy bay 

 Resounded up the rocky way, 

 And faint, from farther distance borne, 

 Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 



130 



