As falter’d through terrific dream.
Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword,
And veil’d his wrath in scornful word:
“Rest safe till morning; pity ’twere
Such cheek should feel the midnight air!
Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell,
Roderick will keep the lake and fell,[159]
Nor lackey, with his freeborn clan,
The pageant pomp of earthly man.
More would he of Clan-Alpine know,