From Cheviot to the shores of Ross, From Solway-Sands to Marshal's-Moss, All boun'd them for the fight. Such news the royal courier tells, Who came to rouse dark Arran's dells; But farther tidings must the ear Of Isabel in secret hear. These in her cloister walk, next morn, Thus shared she with the Maid of Lorn. VI. My Edith, can I tell how dear Our intercourse of hearts sincere Hath been to Isabel ? Judge then the sorrow of my heart, When I must say the words, We part! The cheerless convent-cell Was not, sweet maiden, made for thee; Go thou where thy vocation free On happier fortunes fell. Nor, Edith, judge thyself betray'd, Though Robert knows that Lorn's high Maid And his poor silent page were one. Versed in the fickle heart of man, Earnest and anxious hath he look'd How Ronald's heart the message brook'd That gave him, with her last farewell, The charge of Sister Isabel, To think upon thy better right, Forgive him for thy sister's sake, At first if vain repinings wake Long since that mood is gone: Now dwells he on thy juster claims, And oft his breach of faith he blames Forgive him for thine own!" VII. "No! never to Lord Ronald's bower Will I again as paramour" "Nay, hush thee, too impatient maid, The good King Robert would engage By her own heart, and her own eye, Safe in his royal charge, and free, Should such thy final purpose be, Again unknown to seek the cell, Thus spoke the maid-King Robert's Might have some glance of policy; Dunstaffnage had the monarch ta'en, eye And Lorn had own'd King Robert's reign; Her brother had to England fled, And there in banishment was dead; VIII. Embarrass'd eye and blushing cheek Who gave such secret, dark and dear, Why should she leave the peaceful cell?- How risk herself 'midst martial men ?- Saw and forgave the maiden's wile, Reluctant to be thought to move At the first call of truant love. IX. Oh, blame her not !-when zephyrs wake, The aspen's trembling leaves must shake; When beams the sun through April's shower, It needs must bloom, the violet flower; And Love, howe'er the maiden strive, A thousand soft excuses came, To plead his cause 'gainst virgin shame. And, last, she was resolved to stay Only brief space—one little day— Close hidden in her safe disguise From all, but most from Ronald's eyes |