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But every jealous post of ward
free To one low-brow'd and vaulted room, Where squire and yeoman, page and groom,
Plied their loud revelry.
And “ Rest ye here,” the Warder bade,
As if ye ne'er had seen
And bearing martial mien."-
But crowded on to stare,
As men of courtesy untaught,
From one the foremost there,
Involved his sister fair.
His brother, as the clansman bent
Made brief and stern excuse ;
Vassal, were thine the cloak of pall That decks thy Lord in bridal hall,
'Twere honour'd by her use."
Proud was his tone, but calm ; his
eye Had that compelling dignity, His mien that bearing haught and high,
Which common spirits fear ; Needed nor word nor signal more, Nod, wink, and laughter, all were o’er ; Upon each other back they bore,
And gazed like startled deer. But now appear'd the Seneschal, Commission'd by his lord to call The strangers to the Baron's hall,
Where feasted fair and free That Island Prince in nuptial tide, With Edith there his lovely bride, And her bold brother by her side, And many a chief, the flower and pride
Of Western land and sea.
Here pause we, gentles, for a space ;
END OF CANTO FIRST.