XXII.
A while the maid the stranger eyed,
And, reassured, at length replied,
That Highland halls were open still
To wilder’d[53] wanderers of the hill.
“Nor think you unexpected come
To yon lone isle, our desert home;
Before the heath had lost the dew,
This morn, a couch[54] was pull’d for you;
On yonder mountain’s purple head
Have ptarmigan[55] and heath cock bled,
And our broad nets have swept the mere,[56]
To furnish forth your evening cheer.”—
“Now, by the rood,[57] my lovely maid,
Your courtesy has err’d,” he said;
“No right have I to claim, misplaced,
The welcome of expected guest.
A wanderer, here by fortune tost,
My way, my friends, my courser lost,
I ne’er before, believe me, fair,
Have ever drawn your mountain air,
Till on this lake’s romantic strand
I found a fay in fairyland!”