Page:The Lay of the Last Minstrel - Scott (1805).djvu/194

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185

XXV.
So sweet was Harold's piteous lay,
Scarce marked the guests the darkened hall,
Though long before the sinking day,
A wondrous shade involved them all:
It was not eddying mist or fog,
Drained by the sun from fen or bog;
Of no eclipse had sages told;
And yet, as it came on apace,
Each one could scarce his neighbour's face,
Could scarce his own stretched hand behold.
A secret horror checked the feast,
And chilled the soul of every guest;
Even the high Dame stood half aghast,
She knew some evil on the blast;
The elvish page fell to the ground,
And, shuddering, muttered, "Found! found! found!"