Ill suited with such savage scene, In cap and cloak of velvet green, His garb was such as minstrels wear, His youthful cheek was marr'd by care, "Whence this poor boy?"-As Ronald spoke, The voice his trance of anguish broke; As if awaked from ghastly dream, He raised his head with start and scream, ́ And wildly gazed around; Then to the wall his face he turn'd, And his dark neck with blushes burn'd. XXIII. "Whose is the boy?" again he said. "By chance of war our captive made; He may be yours, if you should hold That music has more charms than gold; For, though from earliest childhood mute, The lad can deftly touch the lute, And on the rote and viol play, And well can drive the time away For those who love such glee; For me, the favouring breeze, when loud Makes blither melody." "Hath he, then, sense of spoken sound ?"— "Aye; so his mother bade us know, A crone in our late shipwreck drown'd, And hence the silly stripling's woe. More of the youth I cannot say, Our captive but since yesterday; When wind and weather wax'd so grim, We little listed think of him. But why waste time in idle words? Sudden the captive turn'd his head, And one quick glance to Ronald sped. It was a keen and warning look, And well the Chief the signal took. XXIV. "Kind host," he said, "our needs require A separate board and separate fire; Or feast us at a stranger's board; Thus, for our separate use, good friend, We should refuse to share our meal ?”—___ "Then say we, that our swords are steel! Before Lord Ronald's glance of fire, Nor could his craven courage brook The Monarch's calm and dauntless look. With laugh constrain'd,—" Let every man Follow the fashion of his clan ! Each to his separate quarters keep, And feed or fast, or wake or sleep." XXV. Their fire at separate distance burns, By turns they eat, keep guard by turns; For evil seem'd that old man's eye, Dark and designing, fierce yet shy. Still he avoided forward look, But slow and circumspectly took A circling, never-ceasing glance, By doubt and cunning mark'd at once, Had that dark look, the timid shun ; The half-clad serfs behind them sate, And scowl'd a glare 'twixt fear and hateTill all, as darkness onward crept, Couch'd down and seem'd to sleep, or slept, Nor he, that boy, whose powerless tongue Must trust his eyes to wail his wrong, A longer watch of sorrow made, But stretch'd his limbs to slumber laid. XXVI. Not in his dangerous host confides The King, but wary watch provides. H |