Scott's Lady of the Lake

by Walter Scott

He pour’d his wailing o’er the dead.

XXII.

LAMENT.

“And art them cold and lowly laid,

Thy foeman’s dread, thy people’s aid,

Breadalbane’s[355] boast, Clan-Alpine’s shade!

For thee shall none a requiem say?—

For thee,—who loved the Minstrel’s lay,

For thee, of Bothwell’s house the stay,