« 前へ次へ »
— Brother, nay-
To aërial minstrelsy,
Trip it deft and merrily.
RIVER SPIRIT. “BEARS of an imprisoned maiden
Mix with my polluted stream ; Margaret of Branksome, sorrow-laden,
Mourns beneath the moon's pale beam. Tell me, thou, who view'st the stars, When shall cease these feudal jars ?
What shall be the maiden's fate ?
“ ARTHUR'S slow wain his course doth
a roll, In utter darkness, round the pole ; The Northern Bear lowers black and grim ; Orion's studded belt is dim ; Twinkling faint, and distant far, Shimmers through mist each planet star;
Ill may I read their high decree !
And the heavy sound was still ;
It died on the side of the hill. But round Lord David's tower
The sound still floated near ; For it rung in the Ladye's bower,
And it rung in the Ladye's ear. She raised her stately head,
And her heart throbb'd high with pride :“ Your mountains shall bend, And your streams ascend, Ere Margaret be our foeman's bride!”
xix. ME HE Ladye sought the lofty hall,
Where many a bold retainer lay, And, with jocund din, among them all,
Her son pursued his infant play A fancied moss-trooper, the boy
The truncheon of a spear bestrode, And round the hall right merrily,
In mimic forayt rode. Even bearded knights, in arms grown old,
Share in his frolic gambols bore, Albeit their hearts of rugged mould,
Were stubborn as the steel they wore. For the grey warriors prophesied,
How the brave boy, in future war, Should tame the Unicorn's pride,
Exalt the Crescent and the Star.
One moment, and no more ;
As she paused at the arched door :
As e'er couch'd Border lance by knee : Through Solway Sands, through Tarras
Five times outlawed had he been,
XXII. “MIR William of Deloraine, good at need,
Mount thee on the wightest steed;
Say that the fated hour is come,
To win the treasure of the tomb : For this will be St. Michael's night, And, though stars be dim, the moon is
bright; And the Cross, of bloody red, Will point to the grave of the mighty dead.
Stay not thou for food or sleep :