And, like tennis-ball by racket toss'd, And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee. Lord Cranstoun was some whit dismay'd; 'Tis said that five good miles he rade, To rid him of his company; But where he rode one mile, the Dwarf ran four, And the Dwarf was first at the castle door. XXXII. SE lessens marvel, it is said: This elvish Dwarf with the Baron staid; And often mutter'd "Lost! lost! lost!" All between Home and Hermitage, Talk'd of Lord Cranstoun's Goblin-Page. XXXIII. OR the Baron went on pilgrimage, And took with him this elvish Page, But the Ladye of Branksome gather'd a band Wat of Harden came thither amain, away. They burn'd the chapel for very rage, And cursed Lord Cranstoun's Goblin-Page. XXXIV. ND now, in Branksome's good green wood, As under the aged oak he stood, The Baron's courser pricks his ears, As if a distant noise he hears. The Dwarf waves his long lean arm on high, HILE thus he pour'd the lengthen❜d tale, The Minstrel's voice began to fail : Swell'd his old veins, and cheer'd his soul; Ere thus his tale again began. Canto Third. I. ND said I that my limbs were old, And said I that my blood was cold, And that my kindly fire was fled, And my poor wither'd heart was dead, And that I might not sing of love ?— How could I to the dearest theme, That ever warm'd a minstrel's dream, So foul, so false a recreant prove! How could I name love's very name, Nor wake my heart to notes of flame! N In II. peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. |