Chapter 90 No.90

Speed, Malise, speed! the lake is past,

Duncraggan's huts appear at last,note

350 And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen,

Half hidden in the copse so green;

There mayst thou rest, thy labor done,

Their Lord shall speed the signal on.

As stoops the hawk upon his prey,

355 The henchman shot him down the way.

-What woeful a