The Lady of the Lake.
Canto III. The Gathering.
VIII.
'Twas all prepared—and from the rock,
A goat, the patriarch of the flock,
Before the kindling pile was laid,
And pierced by Roderick's ready blade.
* * * *
The grisly priest with murmuring prayer,
A slender crosslet framed with care.
* * * *
The cross, thus formed, he held on high,
With wasted hand and haggard eye,
And strange and mingled feelings woke,
While his anathema he spoke.
IX.
* * * *