I.
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he livelong day Lord Marmion rode:The mountain path the Palmer showed,By glen and streamlet winded still,Where stunted birches hid the rill.They might not choose the lowland road,For the Merse forayers were abroad,Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey,Had scarcely failed to bar their way.Oft on the trampling band, from crownOf some tall cliff, the deer looked down;On wing of jet, from his reposeIn the deep heath, the blackcock rose;Sprung from the gorse the timid roe,Nor waited for the bending bow;And when the stony path began,By which the naked peak they wan,Up flew the snowy ptarmigan.The noon had long been passed beforeThey gained the height of Lammermoor;Thence winding down the northern way,Before them, at the close of day,Old Gifford’s towers and hamlet lay.
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