Dejectedly, and low, he bow'd, His hand was true, his voice was clear, CANTO SECOND, I. F thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, And each shafted oriel glimmers white; And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die ; When distant Tweed is heard to rave, And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead Thus spoke the Monk, in solemn tone :"I was not always a man of woe; For Paynim countries I have trod, And fought beneath the cross of God: Now, strange to my eyes thine arms appear, And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear. XIII. In these far climes it was my lot To meet the wondrous Michael Scott; A Wizard, of such dreaded fame, hat when, in Salamanca's cave, Him listed his magic wand to wave, The bells would ring in Notre Dame! Some of his skill he taught to me; and, Warrior, I could say to thee he words that cleft Eildon hills in three, And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone. But to speak them were a deadly sin; And for having but thought them my heart within, A treble penance must be done. XIV. When Michael lay on his dying bed, His conscience was awakened : Ie bethought him of his sinful deed, And he gave me a sign to come with speed, was in Spain when the morning rose, But I stood by his bed ere evening close. he words may not again be said, 'hat he spoke to me, on death-bed laid; 'hey would rend this Abbaye's massy nave, nd pile it in heaps above his grave. XV. I swore to bury his Mighty Book, 'hat never mortal might therein look : nd never to tell where it was hid, ave at his Chief of Branksome's need: .nd when that need was past and o'er, gain the volume to restore. buried him on St. Michael's night, When the bell toll'd one, and the moon was bright, nd I dug his chamber among the dead, When the floor of the chancel was stained red, That his patron's cross might over him wave, And scare the fiends from the Wizard's grave. XVI. "It was a night of woe and dread, When Michael in the tomb I laid! Strange sounds along the chancel pass'd, The banners waved without a blast," -Still spoke the Monk, when the bell toll'd one ! I tell you, that a braver man Than William of Deloraine, good at need, Against a foe ne'er spurr'd a steed; XVII. "Lo, Warrior! now the Cross of Red Which the bloody Cross was traced upon: The grave's huge portal to expand. XVIII. With beating heart to the task he went ; His sinewy frame o'er the grave-stone bent; With bar of iron heaved amain, It was by dint of passing strength, Danced on the dark-brow'd Warrior's mail, And kiss'd his waving plume. XIX. Before their eyes the Wizard lay, Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea : The lamp was placed beside his High and majestic was his look, They trusted his soul had gotten grace. But the glare of the sepulchral light, Perchance, had dazzled the warrior's sight. XXII. When the huge stone sunk o'er the tomb, The night return'd in double gloom : For the moon had gone down, and the stars were few; And, as the Knight and Priest withdrew, With wavering steps and dizzy brain, They hardly might the postern gain. 'Tis said, as through the aisles they pass'd, They heard strange noises on the blast; Loud sobs, and laughter louder, ran, I And she glides through the greenwood at dawn of light To meet Baron Henry, her own true knight. XXVIII. The Knight and Ladye fair are met, And under the hawthorn's boughs are set. A fairer pair were never seen Lent to her cheek a livelier red; XXIX. And now, fair dames, methinks I see And how the Knight, with tender fire, But never, never cease to love; XXX. Alas! fair dames, your hopes are vain! My harp has lost the enchanting strain; Its lightness would my age reprove: My hairs are grey, my limbs are old, My heart is dead, my veins are cold: I may not, must not, sing of love. |