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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354037" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Rock Of The Betrayed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IT was a Highland chieftain's son <br>Gazed sadly from the hill: <br>And they saw him shrink from the autumn wind, <br>As its blast came keen and chill. <br>II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His stately mother saw,--and spoke <br>With the heartless voice of pride; <br>''T is well I have a stouter son <br>The border wars to ride.' <br>III.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His jealous brother saw, and stood, <br>Red-hair'd, and fierce, and tall, <br>Muttering low words of fiendish hope <br>To be the lord of all. <br>IV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But sickly Allan heard them not, <br>As he look'd o'er land and lea; <br>He was thinking of the sunny climes <br>That lie beyond the sea. <br>V.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He was thinking of the native land <br>Whose breeze he could not bear; <br>Whose wild free beauty he must leave, <br>To breathe a warmer air. <br>VI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He was dreaming of his childhood's haunts, <br>And his grey-hair'd father's praise; <br>And the chance of death which hung so near <br>And darken'd his young days. <br>VII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So he turn'd, and bade them both farewell, <br>With a calm and mournful smile; <br>And he spoke of dwelling far away, <br>But only for a while. <br>VIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And if a pang of bitter grief <br>Shot wildly through his heart, <br>No man heard Allan Douglas sigh, <br>Nor saw the tear-drop start: <br>IX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For he left in Scotland none who cared <br>If e'er he should return, <br>In castle hall, or cottage low, <br>By river or by burn. <br>X.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Only upon the heather brae <br>His quivering lip he press'd; <br>And clasp'd the senseless birchen tree, <br>And strain'd it to his breast; <br>XI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Because the human heart is full <br>Of love that must be given, <br>However check'd, estranged, and chill'd, <br>To something under Heaven. <br>XII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And these things had been friends to him <br>Thro' a life of lonely hours-- <br>The blue lake, and the waving birch, <br>And the low broom's scented flowers. <br>XIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Twice had the snow been on the hills, <br>And twice the soft spring rain, <br>When Allan Douglas bent his way <br>To his native land again. <br>XIV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">More healthful glow'd his hollow cheek, <br>His step was firm and free, <br>And he brought a fair Italian girl <br>His bonny bride to be. <br>XV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But darkly sneer'd his brother cold, <br>When he saw that maiden fair, <br>'Is a foreign minion come to wed <br>The Highland chieftain's heir?' <br>XVI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And darkly gloom'd the mother's brow <br>As she said, 'Am I so old, <br>That a stranger must so soon come here <br>The castle keys to hold?' <br>XVII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then spoke the young Italian girl <br>With a sweet and modest grace, <br>As she lifted upi her soft black eyes <br>And look'd them in the face: <br>XVIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'A stranger and an orphan comes <br>To Allan's native land, <br>And she needs the mother's welcome smile, <br>And the brother's friendly hand. <br>XIX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Be thine! oh, stately lady--thine-- <br>The rule that thou dost crave, <br>For Allan's love is all I earn'd, <br>And all I seek to have. <br>XX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And trust me, brother, tho' my words <br>In foreign accents fall, <br>The heart is of no country born, <br>And my heart will love you all.' <br>XXI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But vain the music of her tongue <br>Against the hate they bore; <br>And when a babe her love had bless'd <br>They hated her the more. <br>XXII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They hated her the more because <br>That babe must be the heir, <br>And his dark and lovely eyes at times <br>His mother's look would wear. <br>XXIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But lo! the keen cold winter came <br>With many a bitter blast: <br>It pierced thro' sickly Allan's frame,-- <br>He droop'd and died at last! <br>XXIV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! mournfully at early morn <br>That young wife sat and wept,-- <br>And mournfully, when day was done, <br>To her widow'd couch she crept,-- <br>XXV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And mournfully at noon she rock'd <br>The baby on her knee; <br>'There is no pity in their hearts, <br>My child, for thee and me. <br>XXVI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'There was no pity in their hearts <br>For him who is at rest: <br>How should they feel for his young son <br>Who slumbers at my breast?' <br>XXVII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The red-hair'd brother saw her tears, <br>And said, 'Nay, cease thy moan-- <br>Come forth into the morning air, <br>And weep. no more alone!' <br>XXVIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The proud stepmother chid her woe;-- <br>'Even for thy infant's sake <br>Go forth into the morning air, <br>And sail upon the lake!' <br>XXIX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There seem'd some feeling for her state; <br>Their words were fair and mild; <br>Yet she shudder'd as she whisper'd low, <br>'God shield me and my child!' <br>XXX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Come!' said dead Allan's brother stern, <br>'Why dost thou tremble so? <br>'Come!'--and with doubt and fear perplex'd, <br>The lady rose to go. <br>XXXI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They glided over the glassy lake, <br>'Till its lulling murmur smote, <br>With a death-like omen, to and fro', <br>Against the heaving boat. <br>XXXII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And no one spoke;--that brother still <br>His face averted kept, <br>And the lady's tears fell fast and free <br>O'er her infant as it slept. <br>XXXIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The cold faint evening breeze sprang up <br>And found them floating on; <br>They glided o'er the glassy lake <br>Till the day's last streak was gone-- <br>XXXIV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till the day's last streak had died away <br>From the chill and purple strand, <br>And a mist was on the water's face <br>And a damp dew on the land; <br>XXXV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till you could not trace the living hue <br>Of lip, or cheek, or eye, <br>But the outline of each countenance <br>Drawn dark against the sky. <br>XXXVI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And all things had a ghastly look, <br>An aspect strange and drear;-- <br>The lady look'd to the distant shore <br>And her heart beat wild with fear. <br>XXXVII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is a rock whose jutting height <br>Stands frowning o'er that lake, <br>Where the faintest call of the bugle horn <br>The echo's voice will wake:-- <br>XXXVIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there the water lifts no wave <br>To the breeze, so fresh and cool, <br>But lies within the dark rock's curve, <br>Like a black and gloomy pool. <br>XXXIX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Its depth is great,--a stone thrown in <br>Hath a dull descending sound, <br>The plummet hath not there been cast <br>Which resting-place hath found. <br>XL.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And scatter'd firs and birch-trees grow <br>On the summit, here and there-- <br>Lonely and joylessly they wave, <br>Like an old man's thin grey hair. <br>XLI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But not to nature's hand it owes <br>Its mournfulness alone, <br>For vague tradition gives the spot <br>A horror of its own. <br>XLII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The boatman doffs his cap beneath <br>Its dark o'er-hanging shade, <br>And whispers low its Gaelic name,-- <br>'THE ROCK OF THF BETRAY'D.' <br>XLIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when the wind, which never curls <br>That pool, goes sweeping by, <br>Bending the firs and birchen trees <br>With a low and moaning sigh,-- <br>XLIV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He'll tell you that the sound which comes <br>So strange, and faint, and dim, <br>Is only heard at one set hour, <br>And call'd 'THE LADY'S HYMN.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Caroline+Elizabeth+Sarah+Norton">Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354037" data-title="The Rock Of The Betrayed de Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton" data-description="I.

IT was a Highland chieftain's son 
Gazed sadly from the hill: 
And they saw him shrink from the autumn wind, 
As its blast came keen and chill. 
II.

His stately mother saw,--and spoke 
With the heartless voice of pride; 
''T is well I have a ..."></div>
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