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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519671" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Rosabelle</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O listen, listen, ladies gay! <br>No haughty feat of arms I tell; <br>Soft is the note, and sad the lay <br>That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! <br>And, gentle lady, deign to stay! <br>Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, <br>Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘The blackening wave is edged with white; <br>To inch and rock the sea-mews fly; <br>The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite, <br>Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘Last night the gifted Seer did view <br>A wet shroud swathed round lady gay; <br>Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch; <br>Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">’Tis not because Lord Lindesay’s heir <br>Tonight at Roslin leads the ball, <br>But that my lady-mother there <br>Sits lonely in her castle-hall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">’Tis not because the ring they ride, <br>And Lindesay at the ring rides well, <br>But that my sire the wine will chide <br>If ’tis not fill’d by Rosabelle.’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">—O’er Roslin all that dreary night <br>A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam; <br>’Twas broader than the watch-fire’s light, <br>And redder than the bright moonbeam. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It glared on Roslin’s castled rock, <br>It ruddied all the copse-wood glen; <br>’Twas seen from Dryden’s groves of oak, <br>And seen from cavern’d Hawthornden. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seem’d all on fire that chapel proud <br>Where Roslin’s chiefs uncoffin’d lie, <br>Each Baron, for a sable shroud, <br>Sheathed in his iron panoply. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seem’d all on fire within, around, <br>Deep sacristy and altar’s pale; <br>Shone every pillar foliage-bound, <br>And glimmer’d all the dead men’s mail. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Blazed battlement and pinnet high, <br>Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair— <br>So still they blaze, when fate is nigh <br>The lordly line of high Saint Clair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There are twenty of Roslin’s barons bold <br>Lie buried within that proud chapelle; <br>Each one the holy vault doth hold <br>But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And each Saint Clair was buried there <br>With candle, with book, and with knell; <br>But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung <br>The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Walter+Scott">Sir Walter Scott</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=519671" data-title="Rosabelle de Sir Walter Scott" data-description="O listen, listen, ladies gay! 
No haughty feat of arms I tell; 
Soft is the note, and sad the lay 
That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. 

‘Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! 
And, gentle lady, deign to stay! 
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, 
N..."></div>
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