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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE WHITE MAID OF THE ROCK, by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON First Line: Loud 'gainst the rocks the wild spray is dashing Last Line: And her form 'neath the wave of the dark streamlet threw. | |||
Loud 'gainst the rocks the wild spray is dashing, Its snowy white foam o'er the waves rudely splashing; The woods echo round to the bittern's shrill scream, As he dips his black wing in the wave of the stream; Now mournful and sad the low murmuring breeze Sighs lonely and dismal through hollow oak trees. The owl loudly hoots, while his lonely abode Serves to shelter the snake and the poisonous toad; Lo! the black thunder-cloud is spread over the skies, And the swift-winged lightning at intervals flies. The streamlet looks dark, and the spray wilder breaks, And the alder leaf dank, with its silver drops shakes; This dell and these rocks, this lone alder and stream, With the dew-drops which dance in the moon's silver beam, Are sacred to beings ethereal and light, Who hold their dark orgies alone and at night. Wild, and more wild, dashed the waves of the stream, The White Maid of the rock gave a shrill piercing scream; Down headlong she plunged 'neath the dark rolling wave, And rising, thus chanted a dirge to the brave. "The raven croaks loud from her nest in the rock, The night-owl's shrill hooting resounds from the oak; Behold the retreat where brave Avenel is laid, Uncoffin'd, except by his own Scottish plaid! Long since has my girdle diminished to naught, And the great house of Avenel low has been brought; The star now burns dimly which once brightly shone, And proud Avenel's glory for ever has flown. As I sail'd and my white garments caught in the brake, 'Neath the oak, whose huge branches extend o'er the lake, ' Woe to thee! woe to thee! Maid of the Rock,' Cried the night-raven who builds in the oak; ' Woe to thee! guardian spirit of Avenel! Where are thy holly-bush, streamlet and dell? No longer thou sittest to watch and to weep, Near the abbey's lone walls, and its turrets so steep! Woe to thee! woe to thee! Maid of the rock,' Cried the night-raven who builds in the oak! Then farewell, great Av'nel, thy proud race is run! The girdle has vanish'd -- my task is now done." Then her long flowing tresses around her she drew, And her form 'neath the wave of the dark streamlet threw. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SONG (1) by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON A SONG (2) by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON A SONG (IN IMITATION OF THE SCOTCH) by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON A VIEW OF DEATH by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON ALONZO AND IMANEL by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON AMERICA by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON AMERICAN POETRY; A FRAGMENT by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON AMIR KHAN by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON AN ACROSTIC: THE MOON by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON AN ACROSTIC: THE SUN by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON |
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