XXIV.
Delightful praise!—Like summer rose,
That brighter in the dewdrop glows,
The bashful maiden’s cheek appear’d,
For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard.
The flush of shamefaced joy to hide,
The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide;
The loved caresses of the maid
The dogs with crouch and whimper paid;
And, at her whistle, on her hand
The falcon took his favorite stand,
Closed his dark wing, relax’d his eye,
Nor, though unhooded,[137] sought to fly.
And, trust, while in such guise she stood,
Like fabled goddess[138] of the wood,
That if a father’s partial thought
O’erweigh’d her worth and beauty aught,
Well might the lover’s judgment fail
To balance with a juster scale;
For with each secret glance he stole,
The fond enthusiast sent his soul.