And leading star of every eye,
And theme of every minstrel’s art,
The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!”[99]
XI.
“Fair dreams are these,” the maiden cried,
(Light was her accent, yet she sigh’d;)
“Yet is this mossy rock to me
Worth splendid chair and canopy;
Nor would my footsteps spring more gay
In courtly dance than blithe strathspey,[100]