After the rainbow's arch to roam, Her lovers barter'd fair esteem, Faith, fame, and honor, for a dream.1

IV.

"Her sire's soft arts the soul to tame She practised thus-till Arthur came; Then, frail humanity had part,

And all the mother claim'd her heart. Forgot each rule her father gave, Sunk from a princess to a slave, Too late must Guendolen deplore, He, that has all, can hope no more! Now must she see' her lover strain, At every turn, her feeble chain ; Watch, to new-bind each knot, and shrink To view each fast-decaying link. Art she invokes to Nature's aid, Her vest to zone, her locks to braid; Each varied pleasure heard her call, The feast, the tourney, and the ball: Her storied lore she next applies, Taxing her mind to aid her eyes; Now more than mortal wise, and then In female softness sunk again; Now, raptured, with each wish complying, With feign'd reluctance now denying; Each charm she varied, to retain A varying heart-and all in vain!

V.

"Thus in the garden's narrow bound,
Flank'd by some castle's Gothic round,
Fain would the artist's skill provide,
The limits of his realms to hide.
The walks in labyrinths he twines,
Shade after shade with skill combines,
With many a varied flowery knot,
And copse, and arbor, decks the spot,
Tempting the hasty foot to stay,
And linger on the lovely way-
Vain art! vain hope! 'tis fruitless all!
At length we reach the bounding wall,
And, sick of flower and trim-dress'd
tree,

Long for rough glades and forest free.

VI.

"Three summer months had scantly flown,
When Arthur, in embarrass'd tone,
Spoke of his liegemen and his throne;
Said, all too long had been his stay,
And duties, which a monarch sway,
Duties, unknown to humbler men,
Must tear her knight from Guendolen.-
She listen'd silently the while,
Her mood express'd in bitter smile;'
Beneath her eye must Arthur quail,
And oft resume the unfinish'd tale,*
Confessing, by his downcast eye,
The wrong he sought to justify.

He ceased. A moment mute she gazed,
And then her looks to heaven she raised;
One palm her temples veil'd, to hide
The tear that sprung in spite of pride;
The other for an instant press'd
The foldings of her silken vest!

VII.

"At her reproachful sign and look,
The hint the Monarch's conscience took.10
Eager he spoke—'No, lady, no!
Deem not of British Arthur so,
Nor think he can deserter prove
To the dear pledge of mutual love.
I swear by sceptre and by sword,
As belted knight and Britain's lord,
That if a boy shall claim my care,
That boy is born a kingdom's heir:
But, if a maiden Fate allows,
To choose that maid a fitting spouse,
A summer-day in lists shall strive
My knights, the bravest knights alive,—
And he, the best and bravest tried,
Shall Arthur's daughter claim for bride.'-
He spoke, with voice resolved and high-
The lady deign'd him not reply.

7 MS.-"Wreathed were her lips in bitter smile."
MS.-
"his broken tale,

With downcast eye and flushing cheeks,

As one who 'gainst his conscience speaks."
MS.- One hand her temples press'd to hide."

10 The scene in which Arthur, sated with his lawless love, and awake at last to a sense of his duties, announces his immediate departure, is managed, we think, with uncommon skill and delicacy."-Quarterly Review.

11 MS." A single warbler was awake."

Ere yet a sunbeam, through the mist,
The castle-battlements had kiss'd,
The gates revolve, the drawbridge falls,
And Arthur sallies from the walls.
Doff'd his soft garb of Persia's loom,
And steel from spur to helmet-plume,
His Lybian steed full proudly trode,
And joyful neigh'd beneath his load.
The Monarch gave a passing sigh
To penitence' and 'pleasures by,
When, lo! to his astonish'd ken
Appear'd the form of Guendolen.

IX.

"Beyond the outmost wall she stood,
Attired like huntress of the wood:
Sandall'd her feet, her ankles bare,2
And eagle-plumage deck'd her hair;
Firm was her look, her bearing bold,
And in her hand a cup of gold.
'Thou goest!' she said, 'and ne'er again
Must we two meet, in joy or pain.
Full fain would I this hour delay,

Though weak the wish-yet, wilt thou stay?
-No! thou look'st forward. Still attend,-
Part we like lover and like friend.'
She raised the cup-Not this the juice
The sluggish vines of earth produce;
Pledge we, at parting, in the draught
Which Genü love!'-she said, and quaff'd;
And strange unwonted lustres fly
From her flush'd cheek and sparkling eye.

That burn'd and blighted where it fell!
The frantic steed rush'd up the dell,*
As whistles from the bow the reed;
Nor bit nor rein could check his speed,
Until he gain'd the hill;

Then breath and sinew fail'd apace,
And, reeling from the desperate race,

He stood, exhausted, still.
The Monarch, breathless and amazed,
Back on the fatal castle gazed-
Nor tower nor donjon could he spy,
Darkening against the morning sky;
But, on the spot where once they frown'd,
The lonely streamlet brawl'd around
A tufted knoll, where dimly shone
Fragments of rock and rifted stone."
Musing on this strange hap the while,
The King wends back to fair Carlisle ;
And cares, that cumber royal sway,
Wore memory of the past away.

XI.

"Full fifteen years, and more, were sped,
Each brought new wreaths to Arthur's head.
Twelve bloody fields, with glory fought,
The Saxons to subjection brought:
Rython, the mighty giant, slain
By his good brand, relieved Bretagne :
The Pictish Gillamore in fight
And Roman Lucius, own'd his might;
And wide were through the world renown'd'
The glories of his Table Round.
Each knight, who sought adventurous fame,
To the bold court of Britain came,
And all who suffer'd causeless wrong,
From tyrant proud, or faitour strong,
Sought Arthur's presence to complain,
Nor there for aid implored in vain.1o

XII.

"For this the King, with pomp and pride, Held solemn court at Whitsuntide,

And summon'd Prince and Peer, All who owed homage for their land, Or who craved knighthood from his hand, Or who had succor to demand,

Then stopp'd exhausted ;-all amazed,
The rider down the valley gazed,

But tower nor donjon," &c.

See Appendix, Note E.

7 MS." But, on the spot where once they frown'd, The stream begirt a silvan mound,

With rocks in shatter'd fragments crown'd."

8 Arthur is said to have defeated the Saxons in twelve pitched battles, and to have achieved the other feats alluded to in the text.

9 MS.-" And wide was blazed the world around." 10 MS.-"Sought before Arthur to complain,

Nor there for succor sued in vain.”

To come from far and near. At such high tide, were glee and game Mingled with feats of martial fame, For many a stranger champion came,

In lists to break a spear; And not a knight of Arthur's host, Save that he trode some foreign coast, But at this feast of Pentecost

Before him must appear.

Ah, Minstrels! when the Table Round Arose, with all its warriors crown'd, There was a theme for bards to sound

In triumph to their string! Five hundred years are past and gone, But Time shall draw his dying groan, Ere he behold the British throne

Begirt with such a ring!

XIII.

“The heralds named the appointed spot, As Caerleon or Camelot,

Or Carlisle fair and free.
At Penrith, now, the feast was set,
And in fair Eamont's vale were met
The flower of Chivalry.'
There Galaad sate with manly grace,
Yet maiden meekness in his face;
There Morolt of the iron mace,"

And love-lorn Tristrem there:
And Dinadam with lively glance,
And Lanval with the fairy lance,
And Mordred with his look askance,

Brunor and Bevidere.

Why should I tell of numbers more?
Sir Cay, Sir Banier, and Sir Bore,

Sir Carodac the keen,
The gentle Gawain's courteous lore,
Hector de Mares and Pellinore,
And Lancelot," that ever more

Look'd stol'n-wise on the Queen.*

A maiden, on a palfrey white,
Heading a band of damsels bright,
Paced through the circle, to alight
And kneel before the King.
Arthur, with strong emotion, saw
Her graceful boldness check'd by awe,
Her dress, like huntress of the wold,
Her bow and baldric trapp'd with gold,
Her sandall'd feet, her ankles bare,
And the eagle-plume that deck'd her hair.
Graceful her veil she backward flung-
The King, as from his seat he sprung,

Almost cried 'Guendolen!'
But 'twas a face more frank and wild,
Betwixt the woman and the child,
Where less of magic beauty smiled
Than of the race of men;

And in the forehead's haughty grace,
The lines of Britain's royal race,

Pendragon's, you might ken.

XV.

"Faltering, yet gracefully, she said-
'Great Prince! behold an orphan maid,
In her departed mother's name,
A father's vow'd protection claim!
The vow was sworn in desert lone,
In the deep valley of St. John.'
At once the King the suppliant raised,
And kiss'd her brow, her beauty praised;
His vow, he said, should well be kept,
Ere in the sea the sun was dipp'd,—"
Then, conscious, glanced upon his queen:
But she, unruffled at the scene
Of human frailty, construed mild,
Look'd upon Lancelot and smiled.

XVI.

"Up! up! each knight of gallant crest
Take buckler, spear, and brand!
He that to-day shall bear him best,
Shall win my Gyneth's hand.
And Arthur's daughter, when a bride,
Shall bring a noble dower;

Both fair Strath-Clyde and Reged wide,
And Carlisle town and tower.'

And eagle-plumes that deck'd her hair." MS.-"The lineaments of royal race."

7 Mr. Adolphus, in commenting on the similarity of manners in the ladies of Sir Walter Scott's poetry, and those of his then anonymous Novels, says, "In Rokeby, the filial attachment and duteous anxieties of Matilda form the leading feature of her character, and the chief source of her distresses. The intercourse between King Arthur and his daughter Gyneth, in The Bridal of Triermain, is neither long nor altogether amicable; but the monarch's feelings on first beholding that beautiful slip of wilderness,' and his manner of receiving her before the Queen and Court, are too forcibly and naturally described to be omitted in this enumeration."-Letters on the Author of Waverley, 1822, p. 212.

Then might you hear each valiant knight,
To page and squire that cried,

'Bring my armor bright, and my courser wight!
"Tis not each day that a warrior's might
May win a royal bride.'

Then cloaks and caps of maintenance

In haste aside they fling;

The helmets glance, and gleams the lance,

And the steel-weaved hauberks ring. Small care had they of their peaceful array,

They might gather it that wolde; For brake and bramble glitter'd gay, With pearls and cloth of gold.

XVII.

"Within trumpet sound of the Table Round Were fifty champions free,

And they all arise to fight that prize,-
They all arise but three.

Nor love's fond troth, nor wedlock's oath,
One gallant could withhold,
For priests will allow of a broken vow,
For penance or for gold.

But sigh and glance from ladies bright

Among the troop were thrown,

To plead their right, and true-love plight,
And 'plain of honor flown.
The knights they busied them so fast,
With buckling spur and belt,
That sigh and look, by ladies cast,

Were neither seen nor felt.

From pleading, or upbraiding glance,
Each gallant turns aside,

And only thought, 'If speeds my lance,

A queen becomes my bride!

She has fair Strath-Clyde, and Reged wide,
And Carlisle tower and town;
She is the loveliest maid, beside,
That ever heir'd a crown.'

So in haste their coursers they bestride,
And strike their visors down.

XVIII.

"The champions, arm'd in martial sort,
Have throng'd into the list,

And but three knights of Arthur's court
Are from the tourney missed.
And still these lovers' fame survives
For faith so constant shown,-

There were two who loved their neighbor's wives,
And one who loved his own.'

The first was Lancelot de Lac,

1 See Appendix, Note H.

2 See the comic tale of The Boy and the Mantle, in the third volume of Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry, from the Breton or Norman original of which Ariosto is supposed to have taken his Tale of the Enchanted Cup.

"The preparations for the combat, and the descriptions of

The second Tristrem bold, The third was valiant Carodac,

Who won the cup of gold," What time, of all King Arthur's crew (Thereof came jeer and laugh),

He, as the mate of lady true,

Alone the cup could quaff.

Though envy's tongue would fain surmise, That, but for very shame,

Sir Carodac, to fight that prize,

Had given both cup and dame; Yet, since but one of that fair court

Was true to wedlock's shrine, Brand him who will with base report,— He shall be free from mine.

XIX.

"Now caracoled the steeds in air,
Now plumes and pennons wanton'd fair,
As all around the lists so wide

In panoply the champions ride.
King Arthur saw, with startled eye,
The flower of chivalry march by,
The bulwark of the Christian creed,
The kingdom's shield in hour of need.
Too late he thought him of the woe
Might from their civil conflict flow;
For well he knew they would not part
Till cold was many a gallant heart.
His hasty vow he 'gan to rue,
And Gyneth then apart he drew;
To her his leading-staff resign'd,
But added caution grave and kind.

XX.

"Thou see'st, my child, as promise-bound,
I bid the trump for tourney sound.
Take thou my warder, as the queen
And umpire of the martial scene;

But mark thou this:-as Beauty bright

Is polar star to valiant knight,
As at her word his sword he draws,
His fairest guerdon her applause,
So gentle maid should never ask
Of knighthood vain and dangerous task;
And Beauty's eyes should ever be
Like the twin stars that soothe the sea,
And Beauty's breath shall whisper peace,
And bid the storm of battle cease.

I tell thee this, lest all too far,
These knights urge tourney into war.
Blithe at the trumpet let them go,

its pomp and circumstance, are conceived in the best manner of the author's original, seizing the prominent parts of the picture, and detailing them with the united beauty of Mr. Scott's vigor of language, and the march and richness of the late Thomas Warton's versification."-Quarterly Revien,

1813.

And fairly counter blow for blow ;—
No striplings these, who succor need
For a razed helm or falling steed.

But, Gyneth, when the strife grows warm,
And threatens death or deadly harm,
Thy sire entreats, thy king commands,
Thou drop the warder from thy hands.
Trust thou thy father with thy fate,
Doubt not he choose thee fitting mate;
Nor be it said, through Gyneth's pride
A rose of Arthur's chaplet died.

XXI.

"A proud and discontented glow
O'ershadow'd Gyneth's brow of snow;
She put the warder by :-
'Reserve thy boon, my liege,' she said,
'Thus chaffer'd down and limited,
Debased and narrow'd, for a maid

Of less degree than I.
No petty chief, but holds his heir
At a more honor'd price and rare

Than Britain's King holds me! Although the sun-burn'd maid, for dower, Has but her father's rugged tower,

His barren hill and lee.

King Arthur swore, "By crown and sword,
As belted knight and Britain's lord,
That a whole summer's day should strive
His knights, the bravest knights alive!"
Recall thine oath! and to her glen
Poor Gyneth can return agen;
Not on thy daughter will the stain
That soils thy sword and crown, remain.
But think not she will e'er be bride
Save to the bravest, proved and tried;
Pendragon's daughter will not fear
For clashing sword or splinter'd spear,
Nor shrink though blood should flow;
And all too well sad Guendolen
Hath taught the faithlessness of men,
That child of hers should pity, when
Their meed they undergo.'-

XXII.

"He frown'd and sigh'd, the Monarch bold:

'I give what I may not withhold;
For, not for danger, dread, or death,
Must British Arthur break his faith.
Too late I mark, thy mother's art
Hath taught thee this relentless part.
I blame her not, for she had wrong,
But not to these my faults belong.
Use, then, the warder as thou wilt;
But trust me, that if life be spilt,1
In Arthur's love, in Arthur's grace,
Gyneth shall lose a daughter's place.'

1 MS.

"if blood be spilt."

With that he turn'd his head aside,
Nor brook'd to gaze upon her pride,
As, with the truncheon raised, she sate
The arbitress of mortal fate;

Nor brook'd to mark, in ranks disposed,
How the bold champions stood opposed,
For shrill the trumpet-flourish fell
Upon his ear like passing bell!"
Then first from sight of martial fray
Did Britain's hero turn away.

XXIII.

"But Gyneth heard the clangor high,
As hears the hawk the partridge cry.
Oh, blame her not! the blood was hers,
That at the trumpet's summons stirs !—
And e'en the gentlest female eye
Might the brave strife of chivalry

A while untroubled view;
So well accomplish'd was each knight,
To strike and to defend in fight,
Their meeting was a goodly sight,

While plate and mail held true.
The lists with planted plumes were strown,
Upon the wind at random thrown,
But helm and breastplate bloodless shone,
It seem'd their feather'd crests alone
Should this encounter rue.

And ever, as the combat grows,
The trumpet's cheery voice arose,
Like lark's shrill song the flourish flows,
Heard while the gale of April blows
The merry greenwood through.

XXIV.

"But soon too earnest grew their game,
The spears drew blood, the swords struck flame,
And, horse and man, to ground there came

Knights, who shall rise no more!
Gone was the pride the war that graced,
Gay shields were cleft, and crests defaced,
And steel coats riven, and helms unbraced,
And pennons stream'd with gore.

Gone, too, were fence and fair array,
And desperate strength made deadly way
At random through the bloody fray,
And blows were dealt with headlong sway,
Unheeding where they fell;

And now the trumpet's clamors seem
Like the shrill sea-bird's wailing scream,
Heard o'er the whirlpool's gulfing stream,
The sinking seaman's knell !