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Poem by Walter Scott

The Maid of Neidpath

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 camehe passdan 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. 


Walter Scott

Walter Scott's other poems:
  1. The Monks of Bangors March
  2. On Ettrick Forests Mountains Dun
  3. Lines Addressed to Ranald Macdonald, Esq., of Staffa
  4. The Sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill
  5. The Maid of Isla

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