Chapter 72 No.72

740 Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode;

The waving of his tartans broad,

And darkened brow, where wounded pride

With ire and disappointment vied,

Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light,

745 Like the ill Demon of the night,

Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway

Upon the knighted pilgrim's way.

But, unrequited Love! thy dar