172
THE LADY OF THE LAKE.
CANTO IV.
For thee—for me perchance—'twere well
We ne'er had seen the Trosach's dell.—
Murdoch, move first—but silently;
Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die."—
Jealous and sullen on they fared,
Each silent, each upon his guard.
We ne'er had seen the Trosach's dell.—
Murdoch, move first—but silently;
Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die."—
Jealous and sullen on they fared,
Each silent, each upon his guard.
XXI.
Now wound the path its dizzy ledge
Around a precipice's edge,
When lo! a wasted Female form,
Blighted by wrath of sun and storm,
In tattered weeds and wild array,
Stood on a cliff beside the way,
And glancing round her restless eye,
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,
Seemed nought to mark, yet all to spy.
Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom;
With gesture wild she waved a plume
Now wound the path its dizzy ledge
Around a precipice's edge,
When lo! a wasted Female form,
Blighted by wrath of sun and storm,
In tattered weeds and wild array,
Stood on a cliff beside the way,
And glancing round her restless eye,
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky,
Seemed nought to mark, yet all to spy.
Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom;
With gesture wild she waved a plume
