XVI. So bore they on with mirth and pride, And if that labouring bark they spied, 'Twas with such idle eye As nobles cast on lowly boor, When, toiling in his task obscure, They pass him careless by. Let them sweep on with heedless eyes! But, had they known what mighty prize In that frail vessel lay, The famish'd wolf, that prowls the wold, Had scatheless pass'd the unguarded fold, Ere, drifting by these galleys bold, Unchallenged were her way! And thou, Lord Ronald, sweep thou on, With mirth and pride and minstrel tone! But had'st thou known who sail'd so nigh, Far other glance were in thine eye Far other flush were on thy brow, That, shaded by the bonnet, now Assumes but ill the blithesome cheer Of bridegroom when the bride is near! XVII. Yes, sweep they on!-We will not leave, For them that triumph, those who grieve. With that armada gay Be laughter loud and jocund shout, And bards to cheer the wassail rout, With tale, romance, and lay; And of wild mirth each clamorous art, Which, if it cannot cheer the heart, May stupify and stun its smart, For one loud busy day. Yes, sweep they on !-But with that skiff Abides the minstrel tale, Where there was dread of surge and cliff, Labour that strain'd each sinew stiff, And one sad Maiden's wail. XVIII. All day with fruitless strife they toil'd, With eve the ebbing currents boil'd More fierce from streight and lake; And louder sung the western blast On rocks of Inninmore; Rent was the sail, and strain'd the mast, And many a leak was gaping fast, And the pale steersman stood aghast, XIX. 'Twas then that One, whose lofty look Nor labour dull'd nor terror shook, Thus to the Leader spoke; "Brother, how hopest thou to abide The fury of this wilder'd tide, Or how avoid the rock's rude side, Until the day has broke? Didst thou not mark the vessel reel, With quivering planks, and groaning keel, At the last billow's shock? Yet how of better counsel tell, Though here thou see'st poor Isabel Half dead with want and fear; For look on sea, or look on land, Or yon dark sky, on every hand For her alone I grieve-on me I follow where thou wilt; Or rush amid their naval power, XX. That elder Leader's calm reply "In man's most dark extremity Oft succour dawns from Heaven. Edward, trim thou the shatter'd sail, So shall we 'scape the western bay, |