ilderness as this.

* * * * *

WALTER SCOTT.
1771-1832.

THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.

Canto ii. St. 1.

If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale moonlight.

Canto ii. St. 12.

I was not always a man of woe.

Canto ii. St. 22.

I cannot tell how the truth may be;
I say the tale as 'twas said to me.

Canto iii. St. 2.

Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And men below and saints above;
For love is heaven, and heaven is love.

Canto v. St. 1.

Call it not vain; they do not err,
Who say, that, when the poet dies,
Mute Nature mourns her worshiper,
And celebrates his obsequies.

Canto v. St. 13.

True love's the gift which God has given
To man alone beneath the heaven.
It is the secret sympathy,
The silver link, the silken tie,
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind,
In body and in soul can bind.

Canto vi. St. 1.

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
Prom wandering on a foreign strand?

* * * * *

Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

Canto vi. St. 2.

O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood;
Land of the mountain and the flood.

* * * * *

_Marmion_.

Canto ii. St. 27.

'Tis an old tale, and often told.

Canto v. St. 12.

With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.

Canto vi. St. 14.

And dar'st thou then
To beard the lion in his den?

Canto vi. St. 30,

O woman! in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
And variable as the shade
By the light quivering aspen made,
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou!

Canto vi. St. 32.

Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!
Were the last words of Marmion.

Canto vi. Last Lines.

To all, to each, a fair good night,
And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light,

* * * * *

_The Lady of the Lake_.

Canto i. St. 18.

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace
A nymph, a naiad, or a grace,
Of finer form or lovelier face.

* * * * *

A foot more light, a step more true,
Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew.

Canto i. St. 21.

On his bold visage middle a