Scott's Lady of the Lake

by Walter Scott

Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear,

The list’ner held his breath to hear!

XIX.

A chieftain’s daughter seem’d the maid;

Her satin snood,[47] her silken plaid,[48]

Her golden brooch such birth betray’d.

And seldom was a snood amid

Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid,

Whose glossy black to shame might bring

The plumage of the raven’s wing;