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And hearken, my merry-men! What time or where
[brow, Did she pass, that maid with her heavenly With her look so sweet and her eyes so fair, And her graceful step and her angel air, And the eagle plume in her dark-brown hair,
That pass’d from my bower e'en now ?"
She must be lovely, and constant, and kind,
sighs; Courteous as monarch the morn he is crown'd, Generous as spring-dews that bless the glad
ground; Noble her blood as the currents that met In the veins of the noblest PlantagenetSuch must her form be, her mood, and her
strain, That shall match with Sir Roland of Triermain.
Have sat since midnight close,
And hush'd you to repose.
It had caught my watchful ear,
When she thinks her lover near.".
Else had I heard the steps, though low
That drop when no winds blow."
All in the castle must hold them still,
Like the dew on a summer hill.
III. It was the dawn of an autumn day; The sun was struggling with frost-fog gray, That like a silvery crape was spread Round Skiddaw's dim and distant head, And faintly gleam'd each painted pane Of the lordly halls of Triermain,
When that Baron bold awoke. Starting he woke, and loudly did call, Rousing his menials in bower and hall,
While hastily he spoke.
And redden'd all the Nine-stane Hill,
Made the warrior's heart-blood chill.
And ride to Lyulph's tower,
Greet well that sage of power.
IV. “ Hearken, my minstrels ! Which of ye all Touch'd his harp with that dying fall,
So sweet, so soft, so faint,
To an expiring saint ?
1 Dunmailraise is one of the grand passes from Cumberland of stones, erected, it is said, to the memory of Danmail, the into Westmoreland. It takes its name from a cairn, or pile | last King of Cumberland.
From mystic dreams and course of stars.
So perilous to knightly worth,
In the valley of St. John ? Listen, youth, to what I tell, And bind it on thy memory well; Nor muse that I commence the rhyme Far distant, 'mid the wrecks of time. The mystic tale, by bard and sage, Is handed down from Merlin's age.
VII. The faithful Page he mounts his steed, And soon he cross'd green Irthing's mead, Dash'd o'er Kirkoswald's verdant plain, And Eden barr'ā his course in vain. He pass'd red Penrith’s Table Round," For feats of chivalry renown'd, Left Mayburgh's mound* and stones of power, By Druids raised in magic hour, And traced the Eamont's winding way, Till Ulfo's lake beneath him lay.
Lyulpb's Tale. “King Arthur has ridden from merry Carlisle,
When Pentecost was o'er:
On mountain, moss, and moor.
yawning gulfs the sun
rocks incumbent hung,
He saw the hoary Sage:
A cushion fit for age; And o'er him shook the aspen-tree, A restless, rustling canopy. Then sprung young Henry from his selle,
And greeted Lyulph grave,
And then for counsel crave.
And may of man be won, Though there have glided since her birth
Five hundred years and one. But where's the Knight in all the north, . That dare the adventure follow forth,
On vent'rous quest to ride,
In princely bower to bide ;
As it shiver'd against his mail,
Than courtier's whisper'd tale:
Than all the lays
To their monarch's praise his nightly visitant, of whom at this time he could know nothing, but that she looked and sung like an angel, if of mortal mould, shall be his bride."-Quarterly Review. 3 See Appendix, Note C. 4 Ibid. Note D. 5 Ulswater.
& The small lake called Scales-tarn lies so deeply embosomed in the recesses of the huge mountain called Saddleback, more poetically Glaramara, is of such great depth, and so complete
1 * Just like Aurora, when she ties
A rainbow round the morning skies."-Moore. 2 « This powerful Baron required in the fair one whom he should honor with his hand an assemblage of qualities, that appears to us rather unreasonable even in those high days, profase as they are known to have been of perfections now anattainable. His resolution, however, was not more inflexible than that of any mere modern youth ; for he decrees that
And, where the Gothic gateway frown'd,
Glanced neither bill nor bow.
That the harpers of Reged sung. He loved better to rest by wood or river, Than in bower of his bride, Dame Guenever, For he left that lady, so lovely of cheer, To follow adventures of danger and fear; And the frank-hearted Monarch full little did wot,
(Launcelot That she smiled, in his absence, on brave
XII. “He rode, till over down and dell The shade more broad and deeper fell; And though around the mountain's head Flow'd streams of purple, and gold, and red, Dark at the base, unblest by beam, Frown'd the black rocks, and roard the stream. With toil the King his way pursued By lonely Threlkeld's waste and wood, Till on his course obliquely shone The narrow valley of Saint John, Down sloping to the western sky, Where lingering sunbeams love to lie. Right glad to feel those beams again, The King drew up his charger's rein; With gauntlet raised he screen'd his sight, As dazzled with the level light, And, from beneath his glove of mail, Scann'd at his ease the lovely vale, While 'gainst the sun his armor bright Gleam'd ruddy like the beacon's light.
Nor heard a living sound,
That wash'd the battled mound.
In summons blithe and bold,
Which well he guess'd the hold
The tyrant of the wold.
And mighty keep and tower ;
Ambitious Nimrod's power.
As jealous of a foe;
The gloomy pass below.
XV. “The ivory bugle's golden tip Twice touch'd the Monarch’s manly lip,
And twice his hand withdrew. -Think not but Arthur's heart was good! His shield was cross’d by the blessed rood, Had a pagan host before him stood,
He had charged them through and through;
Ere yet his horn he blew.
XVI. “ A hundred torches, flashing bright, Dispell’d at once the gloomy night
That lour'd along the walls,
The inmates of the halls.
Iy hidden from the sun, that it is said its beams never reach it, and that the reflection of the stars may be seen at mid-day.
1 This was the name of King Arthur's well-known sword, sometimes also called Excalibar.
Raised, with imposing air, her hand,
On entrance of their Queen,
Bewilder'd with surprise, Their smother'd mirth again 'gan speak, In archly dimpled chin and cheek,
And laughter-lighted eyes.
Nor giant huge of form and limb,
Nor heathen knight, was there;
A band of damsels fair.
That dances to the shore;
And welcome o'er and o'er!
Ne'er were such charms by mortal seen,
Advanced the castle's Queen! While up the hall she slowly passid, Her dark eye on the King she cast,
That flash'd expression strong ;-
The gaze that lasted long.
Had whisper'd, ‘Prince, beware!
But shun that lovely snare !
(The lovely maid was scarce eighteen), 1 Tintadgel Castle, in Cornwall, is reported to have been the birth-place of King Arthur.
1 " In the description of the Queen's entrance, as well as in the contrasted enumeration of the levities of her attendants, the author, we think, has had in his recollection Gray's celebrated description of the power of harmony to produce all the graces of motion in the body."-Quartețly Review.
XX. “At once, that inward strife suppress'd, The dame approach'd her warlike guest, With greeting in that fair degree, Where female pride and courtesy Are bended with such passing art As awes at once and charms the heart. A courtly welcome first she gave, Then of his goodness 'gan to crave
Construction fair and true Of her light maidens' idle mirth,
3" Arouse the tiger of Hyrcanian deserts,
Strive with the half-starved lion for his prey ;
Waverley Novels, vol. xvii. p. 207. 4 “Still sways their souls with that commanding art That dazzles, leads, yet chills the vulgar heart."
Byron's Corsair, 1814.
Who drew from lonely glens their birth, Nor knew to pay to stranger worth
And dignity their due ; And then she pray'd that he would rest That night her castle's honor'd guest. The Monarch meetly thanks express'd; The banquet rose at her behest, With lay and tale, and laugh and jest,
Apace the evening flew.
The Saxon stern, the pagan Dane,
Some inward thought to hide ;
That heaved her bosom's pride.
From the mist of morning sky; And so the wily monarch guess'd, That this assumed restraint express'd More ardent passions in the breast,
Than ventured to the eye.
Still closer to her ear-
When ladies dare to hear ?
Till, mastering all within,"
And folly into sin ?"
II. “ Another day, another day, And yet another, glides away! Heroic plans in pleasure drown'd, He thinks not of the Table Round; In ess love dissolved his life, He thinks not of his beauteous wife: Better he loves to snatch a flower From bosom of his paramour, Than from a Saxon knight* to wrest The honors of his heathen crest ! Better to wreathe, 'mid tresses brown, The heron's plume her hawk struck down, Than o'er the altar give to flow The banners of a Paynim foe. Thus, week by week, and day by day, His life inglorious glides away; But she, that soothes his dream, with fear Beholds his hour of waking near !
III. “Much force have mortal charms to stay Our peace in Virtue's toilsome way; But Guendolen's might far outshine Each maid of merely mortal line. Her mother was of human birth, Her sire a Genie of the earth, In days of old deem'd to preside O'er lovers' wiles and beauty's pride, By youths and virgins worship'd long, With festive dance and choral song, Till, when the cross to Britain came, On heathen altars died the flame. Now, deep in Wastdale solitude, The downfall of his rights he rued, And, born of his resentment heir, He train’d to guile that lady fair, To sink in slothful sin and shame The champions of the Christian name. Well skill'd to keep vain thoughts alive, And all to promise, naught to give,The timid youth had hope in store, The bold and pressing gain'd no more. As wilder'd children leave their home,
The Bridal of Triermain.
I. Lyulpb's Tale, continued. " ANOTHER day, another day, And yet another glides away!
1“ On the opinion that may be formed even of these two stanzas (xix. and xx.) we are willing to hazard the justness of the eulogium we have bestowed on the general poetical merit of this little work."--Quarterly Review.
1_"One Master Passion in the breast,
Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest."-POPE. 3 MS._"Lovely.” 4 MS.-—" Paynim knight." 6 MS.-" Vanquish'd foe.”
6 The MS. has this and the sixth couplet of stanza iii. interpolated.