Scott's Lady of the Lake

by Walter Scott

This harp, which erst[92] St. Modan[93] sway’d,

Can thus its master’s fate foretell,

Then welcome be the Minstrel’s knell!”

VIII.

“But ah! dear lady, thus it sigh’d

The eve thy sainted mother died;

And such the sounds which, while I strove

To wake a lay of war or love,

Came marring all the festal mirth,

Appalling me who gave them birth,