miscellaneous poems.
143
'Mid the battle I hoped to have breathed my last sigh;
Now farewell, my country—farewell, ye bright sky."
Now farewell, my country—farewell, ye bright sky."
Lo! his helmet and shield in the dust they are strown,
His fleet steed afar o'er the wide plain hath flown;
The phantom he vanished in darkness and gloom,
And they bear the cold corse of the knight to the tomb.
His fleet steed afar o'er the wide plain hath flown;
The phantom he vanished in darkness and gloom,
And they bear the cold corse of the knight to the tomb.
QUEEN MARY'S ESCAPE FROM LOCHLEVEN CASTLE.
The moon looks down on lake and lea,
O'er wood and ruined tower,
And tinges, with its silvery light,
The Lady's lofty bower.
O'er wood and ruined tower,
And tinges, with its silvery light,
The Lady's lofty bower.
