Ill suited with such savage scene, In cap and cloak of velvet green, Low seated on the ground. His garb was such as minstrels wear, His youthful cheek was marr'd by care, "Whence this poor boy ?"-As Ronald spoke, He raised his head with start and scream, And wildly gazed around; Then to the wall his face he turn'd, And his dark neck with blushes burn'd. XXIII. "Whose is the boy?" again he said. For, though from earliest childhood mute, The lad can deftly touch the lute, And on the rote and viol play, And well can drive the time away For me, the favouring breeze, when loud Makes blither melody." “Hath he, then, sense of spoken sound ?” "Aye; so his mother bade us know, A crone in our late shipwreck drown'd, Our captive but since yesterday; When wind and weather wax'd so grim, We little listed think of him. But why waste time in idle words? Sit to your cheer-unbelt your swords." Sudden the captive turn'd his head, And one quick glance to Ronald sped. It was a keen and warning look, And well the Chief the signal took. XXIV. "Kind host,” he said, "our needs require A separate board and separate fire; We should refuse to share our meal?". "Then say we, that our swords are steel! Before Lord Ronald's glance of fire, Nor could his craven courage brook The Monarch's calm and dauntless look. ; With laugh constrain'd,-" Let every man Follow the fashion of his clan ! Each to his separate quarters keep, And feed or fast, or wake or sleep.”— XXV. Their fire at separate distance burns, Dark and designing, fierce yet shy. Still he avoided forward look, But slow and circumspectly took By doubt and cunning mark'd at once, The half-clad serfs behind them sate, And scowl'd a glare 'twixt fear and hate- Couch'd down and seem'd to sleep, or slept. But stretch'd his limbs to slumber laid. XXVI. Not in his dangerous host confides The King, but wary watch provides. |