These scenes of desolate despair,
These smothering clouds of poison'd air,
How gladly had De Vaux exchanged,
Though 'twere to face yon tigers ranged!
Nay, soothful bards have said,
So perilous his state seem'd now,
He wish'd him under arbour bough
With Asia's willing maid.
When, joyful sound! at distance near
A trumpet flourish'd loud and clear,
And as it ceased, a lofty lay

Seem'd thus to chide his lagging way.

XXXIV.

"Son of Honour, theme of story,
Think on the reward before ye!
Danger, darkness, toil despise ;
'Tis Ambition bids thee rise.

"He that would her heights ascend,
Many a weary step must wend;
Hand and foot and knee he tries;
Thus Ambition's minions rise.

"Lag not now, though rough the way, Fortune's mood brooks no delay; Grasp the boon that's spread before ye, Monarch's power, and Conqueror's glory!"

It ceased. Advancing on the sound,
A steep ascent the Wanderer found,
And then a turret stair:

Nor climb'd he far its steepy round
Till fresher blew the air,

And next a welcome glimpse was given,
That cheer'd him with the light of heaven.
At length his toil had won
A lofty hall with trophies dress'd
Where as to greet imperial guest,
Four Maidens stood, whose crimson vest
Was bound with golden zone.

XXXV.

Of Europe seem'd the damsels all;
The first a nymph of lively Gaul,
Whose easy step and laughing eye
Her borrow'd air of awe belie;

The next a maid of Spain,
Dark-eyed, dark-hair'd, sedate, yet bold;
White ivory skin and tress of gold,
Her shy and bashful comrade told

For daughter of Almaine.

These maidens bore a royal robe,
With crown, with sceptre, and with globe
Emblems of empery ;

The fourth a space behind them stood,
And leant upon a harp, in mood
Of minstrel ecstacy.

Of merry England she, in dress
Like ancient British Druidess,
Her hair an azure fillet bound,
Her graceful vesture swept the groun
And, in her hand display'd,
A crown did that fourth Maiden hold,
But unadorn'd with gems and gold,
Of glossy laurel made.

XXXVI.

At once to brave De Vaux knelt down These foremost Maidens three, And proffer'd sceptre, robe, and crown Liegedom and seignorie,

O'er many a region wide and fair, Destined, they said, for Arthur's heir;

But homage would he none:"Rather," he said, "De Vaux would ride A Warden of the Border-side, In plate and mail, than, robed in pride, A monarch's empire own; Rather, far rather, would he be A free-born knight of England free, Than sit on Despot's throne." So pass'd he on, when that fourth Maid As starting from a trance, Upon the harp her finger laid; Her magic touch the chords obey'd, Their soul awaked at once!

SONG OF THE FOURTH MAIDEN.

"Quake to your foundations deep,
Stately Towers, and Banner'd Keer
Bid your vaulted echoes moan,
As the dreaded step they own.

"Fiends, that wait on Merlin's spel
Hear the foot-fall! mark it well!
Spread your dusky wings abroad,
Boune ye for your homeward road!

"It is His, the first who e'er Dared the dismal Hall of Fear; HIS, who hath the snares defied Spread by Pleasure, Wealth, and Pride.

Quake to your foundations deep, astion huge, and Turret steep! remble, Keep! and totter, Tower! his is Gyneth's waking hour."

XXXVII.

s while she sung, the venturous Knight reach'd a bower, where milder light Through crimson curtains fell; soften'd shade the hill receives, purple veil when twilight leaves Upon its western swell.

t bower, the gazer to bewitch, I wondrous store of rare and rich As e'er was seen with eye; there by magic skill, I wis, m of each thing that living is Was limn'd in proper dye. seem'd to sleep-the timid hare form, the stag upon his lair, = eagle in her eyrie fair Between the earth and sky. what of pictured rich and rare ld win De Vaux's eye-glance, where, ep slumbering in the fatal chair, He saw King Arthur's child! ibt, and anger, and dismay, m her brow had pass'd away, got was that fell tourney-day, For, as she slept, she smiled: eem'd that the repentant Seer sleep of many a hundred year With gentle dreams beguiled.

XXXVIII.

it form of maiden loveliness, 'Twixt childhood and 'twixt youth, at ivory chair, that silvan dress, e arms and ankles bare, express Of Lyulph's tale the truth. Il upon her garment's hem noc's blood made purple gem, d the warder of command mber'd still her sleeping hand; ll her dark locks dishevell'd flow om net of pearl o'er breast of snow; d so fair the slumberer seems, at De Vaux impeach'd his dreams, pid all and void of might, ding half her charms from sight.

Motionless a while he stands,
Folds his arms and clasps his hands,
Trembling in his fitful joy,
Doubtful how he should destroy
Long-enduring spell;

Doubtful, too, when slowly rise
Dark-fringed lids of Gyneth's eyes,
What these eyes shall tell.-

"St George! St Mary! can it be, That they will kindly look on me!"

XXXIX.

Gently, lo! the Warrior kneels, Soft that lovely hand he steals, Soft to kiss, and soft to claspBut the warder leaves her grasp;

Lightning flashes, rolls the thunder! Gyneth startles from her sleep, Totters Tower, and trembles Keep,

Burst the Castle-walls asunder!
Fierce and frequent were the shocks,—
Melt the magic halls away;
But beneath their mystic rocks,
In the arms of bold De Vaux,
Safe the princess lay;

Safe and free from magic power,
Blushing like the rose's flower
Opening to the day;

And round the Champion's brows were bound

The crown that Druidess had wound,
Of the green laurel-bay.

And this was what remain❜d of all
The wealth of each enchanted hall,
The Garland and the Dame:
But where should Warrior seek the meed,
Due to high worth for daring deed,
Except from LOVE and FAME!

CONCLUSION.

I.

My Lucy, when the Maid is won,
The Minstrel's task, thou know'st, is
done;

And to require of bard
That to his dregs the tale should run,
Were ordinance too hard.
Our lovers, briefly be it said,
Wedded as lovers wont to wed,

When tale or play is o'er;

Lived long and blest, loved fond and true, And saw a numerous race renew

The honours that they bore.
Know, too, that when a pilgrim strays,
In morning mist or evening maze,
Along the mountain lone,
That fairy fortress often mocks
His gaze upon the castled rocks

Of the Valley of St. John;
But never man since brave De Vaux
The charmed portal won.

'Tis now a vain illusive show,
That melts whene'er the sunbeams glow,
Or the fresh breeze hath blown.

II.

But see, my love, where far below
Our lingering wheels are moving slow,
The whiles, up-gazing still,
Our menials eye our steepy way,
Marvelling, perchance, what whim can
stay

Our steps, when eve is sinking gray,
On this gigantic hill.

So think the vulgar-Life and time
Ring all their joys in one dull chime
Of luxury and ease;
And, O! beside these simple knaves,
How many better born are slaves

To such coarse joys as these,Dead to the nobler sense that glows When nature's grander scenes unclose! But, Lucy, we will love them yet, The mountain's misty coronet,

The greenwood, and the wold; And love the more, that of their maze Adventure high of other days

By ancient bards is told, Bringing, perchance, like my poor tale, Some moral truth in fiction's veil: Nor love them less, that o'er the hill The evening breeze, as now, comes chill;

My love shall wrap her warm, And, fearless of the slippery way, While safe she trips the heathy brae, Shall hang on Arthur's arm.