The Maid of Neidpath Sir Walter Scott (1771 - 1832) O lovers eyes are sharp to see, And lovers ears in hearing; And love in lifes extremity Can lend an hour of cheering. Disease had been in Marys bower, And slow decay from mourning, Though now she sits on Neidpaths tower To watch her loves returning. All sunk and dim her eyes so bright, Her form decayd by pining, Till through her wasted hand, at night, You saw the taper shining; By fits, a sultry hectic hue Across her cheek was flying, By fits, so ashy pale she grew, Her maidens thought her dying. Yet keenest powers to see and hear Seemd in her frame residing; Before the watch-dog prickd his ear, She heard her lovers riding; Ere scarce a distant form was kennd, She knew, and waved to greet him; And oer the battlement did bend, As on the wing to meet him. He came--he passed--an heedless gaze, As oer some stranger glancing; Her welcome, spoke in faltering phrase, Lost in his coursers prancing-- The castle arch, whose hollow tone Returns each whisper spoken, Could scarcely catch the feeble moan Which told her heart was broken.
Posted on: Sat, 23 Nov 2013 12:08:54 +0000
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