Page:The Lay of the Last Minstrel - Scott (1805).djvu/145

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For many a noble warrior strove
To win the Flower of Teviot's love,
And many a bold ally.
With throbbing head and anxious heart,
All in her lonely bower apart,
In broken sleep she lay;
By times, from silken couch she rose,
While yet the bannered hosts repose;
She viewed the dawning day.
Of all the hundreds sunk to rest,
First woke the loveliest and the best.

XI.
She gazed upon the inner court,
Which in the tower's tall shadow lay;
Where coursers' clang, and stamp, and snort,
Had rung the live-long yesterday.
Now still as death—till, stalking slow—
The jingling spurs announced his tread—
A stately warrior passed below;
But when he raised his plumed head—