ABBOTSFORD. 129
Most fitting couch of holy rest, And fondest lulled him on her breast, AY he re burst his first, most ardent song, Tweed s murmuring tides and depths along, "While the young moonbeams quivering faint O er mural tablet sculptured quaint,
Reveal a lordly race, And knots of roses richly wrought, And tracery light as poet s thought,
The clustered columns grace. There good king David s rugged mien Fast by his faithful spouse is seen,
And neath the stony floor Lie chiefs of Douglas haughty breast, Contented now to take their rest, And rule their kings no more. There, if we heed thy witching strain, The fearless knight of Deloraine Achieved his purpose, strange and bold, At rifled tomb and midnight cold ; And there amid the roofless wall, Where blended shower and sunlight fall, With stealthy step and half afraid, Still crops the lamb the scanty blade ; While near is seen the seat of stone,
Whereon thou oft wouldst rest When thou hadst tower and transept shown
To many a grateful guest, And voices still of friendly tone Speak out, and call thee blest. 9
�� �
