Thee's no illusion there; these flowers,
That wailing brook, these lovely bowers
Are, Lucy, all our own;

And, since thine Arthur called thee wife,
Such seems the prospect of his life!
A lovely path, on-winding still,
By gurgling brook and sloping hill.
'Tis true, that mortals cannot tell
What waits them in the distant dell;
But be it hap, or be it harm,

We tread the pathway arm in arm.

IV.

And now, my Lucy, wot'st thou why
I could thy bidding twice deny,
When twice you prayed I would again
Resume the legendary strain

Of the bold Knight of Triermain?
At length yon peevish vow you swore,
That you would sue to me no more,
Unt the minstrel fit drew near,
And made me prize a listening ear.
But, loveliest, when thou first didst pray
Continuance of the knightly lay,
Was it not on the happy day

That made thy hand mine own?
When, dizzied with mine ecstasy,
Nought past, or present, or to be,
Could I or think on, hear, or see,

Save, Lucy, thee alone!

A giddy draught my rapture was,
As ever chemist's inagic gas.

V.

Again the summons I denied
In yon fair capital of Clyde;
My Harp-or let me rather choose

The good old classic form-my Muse,
(For Harp's an over-scutched phrase,
Worn out by bards of modern days,)
My Muse, then-seldom will she wake
Save by dim wood and silent lake;
She is a wild and rustic Maid,
Whose foot unsandalled loves to tread
Where the soft greensward is inlaid
With varied moss and thyme;
And, lest the simple lily-braid,
That coronets her temples, fade,
She hides her still in greenwood shade,
To meditate her rhyme.

That lord, on high adventure bound,
Hath wandered forth alone,
And day and night keeps watchful round
In the Valley of Saint John.

II.

When first began his vigil bold,
The moon twelve summer nights was old,
And shone both fair and full;
High in the vault of cloudless blue,
O'er streamlet, dale, and rock, she threw
Her light composed and cool.
Stretched on the brown hill's healthy broast,
Sir Roland eyed the vale;

Chief where, distinguished from the rest,
Those clustering rocks upreared their crest,
The dwelling of the Fair distressed,

As told gray Lyulph's tale.
Thus as he lay, the lamp of night
Was quivering on his armour bright,
In beams that rose and fell,

And danced upon his buckler's boss,
That lay beside him on the moss,

As on a crystal well.

III.

Ever he watched, and oft he deemed,
While on the mound the moonlight streamed,

It altered to his eyes;

Fain would he hope the rocks 'gan change
To buttressed walls their shapless range,
Fain think, by transmutation strange,

He saw gray turrets rise.

But scarce his heart with hope throbbed high, Before the wild illusions fly,

Which fancy had conceived, Abetted by an anxious eye

That longed to be deceived.
It was a fond deception all,
Such as, in solitary hall,

Beguiles the musing eye,
When, gazing on the sinking fire,
Bulwark and battlement and spire
In the red gulf we spy,
For, seen by moon of middle night,
Or by the blaze noontide bright,
Or by the dawn of morning light,
Ör evening's western flome,
In every tide, at every hour,
In mist, in sunshine, and in shower,
The rocks remained the same.

IV.

Oft has he traced the charméd mound,
Oft climbed its crest, or paced it round,
Yet nothing might explore,
Save that the crags so rudely piled,
At distance seen, resemblance wild
To a rongh fortress bore.

Yet still his watch the Warrior keeps,
Feeds hard and spare, and seldom sleeps.
And drinks but of the well;
Ever by day he walks the hill,
And when the evening gale is chill,

He seeks a rocky cell,

Like hermit poor to bid his bead,
And tell his Ave and his Creed,
Invoking every Saint at need,
For aid to burst the spell.

V.

And now the moon her orb has hid,
And dwindled to a silver thread,
Dim seen in middle heaven,
While o'er its curve carcering fast,
Before the fury of the blast

The midnight clouds are driven.
The brooklet raved, for on the hills
The upland showers had swoln the rills,
And down the torrents came;
Muttered the distant thunder dread,
And frequent o'er the vale was spread
A sheet of lightning flame.

De Vaux, within his mountain cave, (No human step the storm durst brave,) To moody meditation gave

Each faculty of soul,

Till, lulled by distant torrent sound, And the sad winds that whistled round, Upon his thoughts, in musing drowned,' A broken slumber stole.

VI.

"Twas then was heard a heavy sound,

(Sound, strange and fearful there to hear, 'Mongst desert hills, where, leagues around, Dwelt but the gorcock and the deer:) As starting from his couch of fern, Again he heard, in clangour stern,

That deep and solemn swell;
Twelve times, in measured tone, it spoke,
Like some proud minister's pealing clock,
Or city's 'larum-bell.

What thought was Ronald's, first when fell,
In that deep wilderness, the knell
Upon his startled ear?-

To slander warrior were 1 loth,
Yet must I hold my minstrel troth,-
It was a thought of fear.

VII.

But lively was the mingled thrill
That chased that momentary chill,

For Love's keen wish was there,
And eager Hope, and Valour high,
And the proud glow of Chivalry,

That burned to do and dare.
Forth from the cave the Warrior rushed,
Long ere the mountain-voice was hushed,
That answered to the knell;

For long and far the unwonted sound,
Eddying in echoes round and round,
Was tossed from fell to fell;

And Glaramara answer flung,
And Grisdale-pike responsive rung,

And Legbert heights their echoes swung,
As far as Derwent's dell.

VIII.

Forth upon trackless darkness gazed,
The Knight, bedeafened and amazed,
Till all was hushed and still,
Save the swollen torrent's sullen roar,
And the night-blast that wildly bore
Its course along the hill,

Then on the northern sky there came
A light, as of reflected flame,

And over Legbert head,

As if by magic art controlled,
A mighty Meteor slowly rolled
Its orb of fiery red;

Thou wouldst have thought some demon dire
Came mounted on that car of fire,
To do his errand dread.

Far on the sloping valley's course,
On thicket, rock, and torrent hoarse.
Shingle and Scrae,* and Fell and Force,t
A dusky light arose:

Displayed, yet altered, was the scene,
Dark rock, and brook of silver sheen,
Even the gay thicket's summer green,
In bloody tincture glows.

With battled walls and buttress fast,
And barbican* and balliumt vast,
And airy flanking towers that cast,
Their shadows on the stream.
'Tis no deceit! distinctly clear
Crenell and parapet appear,
While o'er the pile that meteor drear
Makes momentary pause;

Then forth its solemn path it drew,
And fainter yet and fainter grew
Those gloomy towers upon the view,
As its wild light withdraws.

X.

Forth from the cave did Roland rush,
O'er crag and stream, through brier and bush;
Yet far he had not sped,

Ere sunk was that portentous light
Behind the hills, and utter night
Was on the valley spread.

He paused perforce,-and blew his horn,
And on the mountain-echoes borne

Was heard an answering sound,

A wild and lonely trumpet-note,
In middle air it seemed to float

High o'er the battled mound;

And sounds were heard, as when a guard
Of some proud castle, holding ward,
Pace forth their nightly round.
The valiant Knight of Triermain
Rung forth his challenge-blast again,

But answer came there none;
And 'mid the mingled wind and rain,
Darkling he sought the vale in vain,

Until the dawning shone;

And when it dawned, that wondrous sight,
Distinctly seen by meteor light,

It all had passed away!

And that enchanted mound once more
A pile of granite fragments bore,
As at the close of day.

XI.

Steeled for the deed, De Vaux's heart
Scorned from his venturous quest to part,
He walks the vale once more;
But only sees, by night or day,
That shattered pile of rocks so gray,
Hears but the torrent's roar.

Till when, through hills of azure borne,
The moon renewed her silver horn,
Just at the time her waning ray
Had faded in the dawning day,

A summer mist arose;
Adown the vale the vapours float,
And cloudy undulations moat
That tufted mound of mystic note,
As round its base they close.
And higher now the fleecy tide
Ascends its stern and shaggy side,
Until the airy billows hide

The rock's majestic isle:
It seemed a veil of filmy lawn,
By some fantastic fairy drawn
Around enchanted pile.

XII.

The breeze came softly down the brook,
And sighing as it blew,
The veil of silver mist it shook,
And to De Vaux's eager look

Renewed that wondrous view.

For, though the loitering vapour braved
The gentle breeze, yet oft it waved
Its mantle's dewy fold;

And still, when shook that filmy screen,
Were towers and bastions dimly seen,
And Gothic battlements between
Their gloomy length unrolled.

*The outer defence of the Castle gate. + Fortified court.

Apertures for shooting arrows.

Speed, speed, De Vaux, ere on thine eye Once more the fleeting vision die !

The gallant Knight can speed
As prompt and light as, when the hound
Is opening, and the horn is wound,
Careers the hunter's steed.

Down the steep dell his course amain
Hath rivalled archer's shaft;
But ere the mound he could attain,
The rocks their shapeless form regain,
And mocking loud his labour vain,

The mountain spirits laughed ;
Far up the echoing dell was borne
Their wild unearthly shout of scorn.

XIII.

Wroth waxed the Warrior.-"Am I then
Fooled by the enemies of men,

Like a poor hind, whose homeward way
Is haunted by malicious fay?

Is Triermain become your taunt,

De Vaux your scorn? False fiends, avaunt!"

A weighty curtal-axe he bare!

The baleful blade so bright and square,
And the tough shaft of heben wood,
Were oft in Scottish gore imbrued.
Backward his stately form he drew,
And at the rocks the weapon threw,
Just where one crag's projected crest
Hung proudly balanced o'er the rest.
Hurled with inain force, the weapon's shock
Rent a huge fragment of the rock.

If by mere strength 'twere hard to tell,
Or if the blow dissolved some spell,
But down the headlong ruin came,
With cloud of dust and flash of flame.
Down bank, o'er bush, its course was borne,
Crushed lay the copse, the earth was torn,
Till, stayed at length, the ruin dread
Cumbered the torrent's rocky bed,
And bade the water's high-swoln tide
Seek other passage for its pride.

XIV.

When ceased that thunder, Triermain
Surveyed the mound's rude front again;
And lo! the ruin had laid bare,
Hewn in the stone, a winding stair,

Whose mossed and fractured steps inight lend
The means the summit to ascend,
And by whose aid the brave De Vaux
Began to scale these magic rocks,

And soon a platform won,
Where, the wild witchery to close,
Within three lances' length arose
The Castle of Saint John!

No misty phantom of the air.

No meteor-blazoned show was there;
In morning splendour, full and fair,
The massive fortress shone.

XV.

Embattled high and proudly towered,
Shaded by ponderous flankers, lowered
The portal's gloomy way.

Though for six hundred years and more,
Its strength had brooked the tempest's roar,
The scutcheoned emblems that it bore

Had suffered no decay;

But from the eastern battlement
A turret had made sheer descent,
And down in recent ruin rent,

In the mid torrent lay.

Else, o'er the Castle's brow sublime,
Insults of violence or of time

Unfelt had passed away.
In shapeless characters of yore,
The gate this stern inscription bore:

XVI. INSCRIPTION.

"Patience waits the destined day, Strength can clear the cumbered way

Warrior, who hast waited long,
Firm of soul, of sinew strong,
It is given to thee to gaze
On the pile of ancient days.
Never mortal builder's hand
This enduring fabric planned;
Sign and sigil, word of power,
From the earth raised keep and tower,
View it o'er, and pace it round,
Rampart, turret, battle mound';
Dare no more! to cross the gate
Were to tamper with thy fate;
Strength and fortitude were vain,
View it o'er-and turn again."

XVII.

"That would I," said the Warrior bold, "If that my frame were bent and old, And my thin blood dropped slow and cold As icicle in thaw;

But while my heart can feel it dance,
Blithe as the sparkling wine of France,
And this good arm wields sword or lance,
I mock these words of awe!"

He said; the wicket felt the sway
Of his strong hand, and straight gave way,
And, with rude crash and jarring bray,

The rusty bolts withdraw;

But o'er the threshold as he strode,
And forward took the vaulted road,
An unseen arm, with force amain,
The ponderous gate flung close again,
And rusted bolt and bar

Spontaneous took their place once more,
While the deep arch with sudden roar
Returned their surly jar.

"Now closed is the gin and the prey within, By the rood of Lanercost!

But he that would win the war-wolf's skin,
May rue him of his boast.".

Thus muttering, on the Warrior went,
By dubious light down steep descent.

XVIII.

Unbarred, unlocked, unwatched, a port
Led to the Castle's outer court;
There the main fortress, broad and tall,
Spread its long range of bower and hall,
And towers of varied size,
Wrought with each ornament extreme,
That Gothic art, in wildest dream

Of fancy, could devise.

But full between the Warrior's way
And the main portal arch, there lay
An inner moat;

Nor bridge nor boat

Affords De Vaux the means to cross
The clear, profound, and silent fosse.
His arms aside in haste he flings,
Cuirass of steel and hauberk rings,
And down falls helm, and down the shield,
Rough with the dints of many a field.
Fair was his manly form, and fair
His keen dark eye, and close curled hair,
When,-all unarmed, save that the brand
Of well-proved metal graced his hand,
With nought to fence his dauntless breast
But the close gipon's* under-vest,
Whose sullied buff the sable stains
Of hauberk and of mail retains,-
Roland De Vaux upon the brim

Of the broad moat stood prompt to swim.
XIX.

Accoutred thus he dared the tide,
And soon he reached the further side,
And entered soon the Hold,
And paced a hall, whose walls so wide
Were blazoned all with feats of pride,
By warriors done of old.

* A sort of doublet, worn beneath the armour.

For here the gold, in sandy heaps,
With duller earth incorporate sleeps;
Was there in ingots piled, and there
Coined badge of empery it bare;
Yonder, huge bars of silver lay,"

Dimmed by the diamond's neighbouring ray,
Like the pale moon in morning day;
And in the midst four Maidens stand,
The daughters of some distant land.
Their hue was of the dark-red dye,
That fringes oft a thunder sky;
Their hands palmetto baskets bare,
And cotton fillets bound their hair;
Slim was their form, their mien was shy,
To earth they bent the humbled eye,
Folded their arms, and suppliant kneeled,
And thus their proffered gifts revealed.

XXVI.

CHORUS.

"See the treasures Merlin piled,
Portion meet for Arthur's chiid.
Bathe in wealth's unbounded stream,
Wealth that Avarice ne'er could dream!"

FIRST MAIDEN.

"See these clots of virgin gold! Severed from the sparry mould, Nature's mystic alchemy

In the mine thus bade them lie; And their orient smile can win Kings to stoop, and saints to sin."

SECOND MAIDEN.

"See these pearls, that long have slept!
These were tears by Naiads wept
For the loss of Marinel:
Tritons in the silver shell

Treasured them, till hard and white
As the teeth of Amphitrite."-

THIRD MAIDEN.

"Does a livelier hue delight? Here are rubies blazing bright, Here the emerald's fairy green, And the topaz glows between; Here their varied hues unite, In the changeful chrysolite.'

FOURTH MAIDEN.

"Leave these gems of poorer shine, Leave them all, and look on mine! While their glories I expand,

Shade thine eyebrows with thy hand. Mid-day sun and diamond's blaze Blind the rash beholder's gaze."

CHORUS.

"Warrior, seize the splendid store;
Would 'twere all our mountains bore!
We should ne'er in future story,
Read, Peru, thy perished glory!"-

XXVII.

Calmly and unconcerned the Knight
Waved aside the treasures bright:
"Gentle Maidens, rise, I pray!
Bar not thus my destined way.
Let these boasted brilliant toys
Braid the hair of girls and boys!
Bid your streams of gold expand
O'er proud London's thirsty land.
De Vaux of wealth saw never need,
Save to purvey him arms and steed,
And all the ore he deigned to hoard
Inlays his helm, and hilts his sword."-
Thus gently parting from their hold,
He left unmoved, the dome of gold.

XXVIII.

And now the morning sun was high, De Vaux was weary, faint and dry; When lo! a plashing sound he hears, A gladsome signal that he nears

Some frolic water-run;

And soon he reached a court-yard square,
Where dancing in the sultry air,
Tossed high aloft, a fountain fair

Was sparkling in the sun.

On right and lelt, a fair arcade,
In long perspective view displayed,
Alleys and bowers, for sun or shade;
But, full in front, a door,

Low-browed and dark, seemed as it led
To the lone dwelling of the dead,
Whose memory was no more.

XXIX.

Here stopped De Vaux an instant's space,
To bathe his parched lips and face,

And marked with well-pleased eye,
Refracted on the fountain stream,
In rainbow hues the dazzling beam
Of that gay summer sky.

His senses felt a mild control,
Like that which lulls the weary soul,
From contemplation high
Relaxing, when the ear receives
The music that the greenwood leaves
Make to the breezes' sigh.

XXX.

And oft. in such a dreamy mood,
The half-shut eye can frame
Fair apparitions in the wood,
As if the nymphs of field and flood
In gay procession came.

Are these of such fantastic mould,

Seen distant down the fair arcade,
These Maids enlinked in sister-fold,

Who, late at bashful distance stayed,
Now tripping from the greenwood shade,
Nearer the musing champion draw,
And in a pause of seeming awe,
Again stand doubtful now?-

Ah, that sly pause of witching powers!
That seems to say, "To please be ours,
Be yours to tell us how."

Their hue was of the golden glow
That sons of Candahar bestow,

O'er which in slight suffusion flows,

A frequent tinge of paly rose:

Their limbs were fashioned fair and free,
In Nature's justest symmetry,
And, wreathed

graced,

Their raven ringlets reached the waist;
In eastern pomp, its gilding pale
The hennali lent each shapely nail,
And the dark sumah gave the eye
More liquid and more lustrous dye.
The spotless veil of misty lawn,
In studied disarrangement, drawn.
The form and bosom o'er,
To win the eye-or tempt the touch,
For modesty showed all too much-
Too much-yet promised more.

XXXI.

"Gentle Knight, a while delay,"
Thus they sung, "thy toilsome way,
While we pay the duty due
To our Master and to you.
Over Avarice, over Fear,
Love triumphant led thee here;
Warrior, list to us, for we

Are slaves to Love, are friends to thee.

"Though no treasured gems have we,
To proffer on the bended knee,
Though we boast nor arm nor heart
For the assagay or dart,

Swains have given each simple girl
Ruby lip and teeth of pearl;
Or, if dangers more you prize,
Flatterers find them in our eyes.