Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair— So still they blaze, when fate is nigh The lordly line of high St. Clair.
There are twenty of Roslin’s barons bold Lie buried within that proud chapelle; Each one the holy vault doth hold— But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle!
And each St. Clair was buried there, With candle, with book, and with knell; But the sea-caves rung, and the wild wings sung, The dirge of lovely Rosabelle!
Sir W. Scott.
[ THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER]
IN SEVEN PARTS PART I It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. ’By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?
The Bridegroom’s doors are open’d wide, And I am next of kin; The guests are met, the feast is set: May’st hear the merry din.’
He holds him with his skinny hand, ‘There was a ship,’ quoth he. ‘Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!’ Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
He holds him with his glittering eye— The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years’ child: The Mariner hath his will.