THE
LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.
CANTO FOURTH.
I.
Sweet Teviot! on thy silver tide,
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more;
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willowed shore;
Where'er thou wind'st by dale or hill,
All, all is peaceful, all is still,
Sweet Teviot! on thy silver tide,
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more;
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willowed shore;
Where'er thou wind'st by dale or hill,
All, all is peaceful, all is still,
