THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. CANTO SIXTH. I. BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, This is my own, my native land! From wandering on a foreign strand! II. O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of my sires! what mortal hand That knits me to thy rugged strand! Think what is now, and what hath been, Seems as, to me, of all bereft, Sole friends thy woods and streams were left; By Yarrow's streams still let me stray, III. Not scorn'd like me! to Branksome Hall [The line "Still lay my head," &c., was not in the first edition.—ED.] Alike for feast and fight prepared, They sound the pipe, they strike the string, Till the rude turrets shake and ring. IV. Me lists not at this tide declare The splendour of the spousal rite, How muster'd in the chapel fair Both maid and matron, squire and knight; Me lists not tell of owches rare, Of mantles green, and braided hair, V. Some bards have sung, the Ladye high So much she fear'd each holy place. |