Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, SONG. WHERE shall the lover rest, Whom the Fates sever From his true maiden's breast, Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high, Sounds the far billow, Where early violets die, Under the willow. CHORUS. Eleu loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillow. There, through the summer day, Cool streams are laving; There, while the tempests sway, Scarce are boughs waving; There, thy rest shalt thou take, Parted for ever, Never again to wake, Never, O never! Χ 5 10 15 He drew his mantle past his face, And rested with his head a space, Reclining on his hand. 10 His thoughts I scan not; but I ween, That, could their import have been seen, The meanest groom in all the hall, That e'er tied courser to a stall, Would scarce have wished to be their prey, 15 HIGH MINDS, of native pride and force, xiii Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse! For soon Lord Marmion raised his head, Say, what may this portend ?"— 5 10 15 xiv Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook, 5 Thought, look, and utterance failed him now, For either in the tone, Or something in the Palmer's look, A feather daunts the brave; A fool's wild speech confounds the wise, Before their meanest slave. 10 15 XV 5 Though not a victim, but a slave; 10 And deemed restraint in convent strange Would hide her wrongs, and her revenge. Himself, proud Henry's favourite peer, Secure his pardon he might hold, 15 For some slight mulct of penance-gold. Thus judging, he gave secret way, When the stern priests surprised their prey: His train but deemed the favourite page Was left behind, to spare his age; 20 Or other if they deemed, none dared But, wakened by her favourite lay, 5 Full on the object of his fear, To aid remorse's venomed throes, Dark tales of convent vengeance rose; And Constance, late betrayed and scorned, 10 Lovely as when, at treacherous call, She left her convent's peaceful wall, Crimsoned with shame, with terror mute, Till love, victorious o'er alarms, 15 Hid fears and blushes in his arms. "ALAS!" he thought, "how changed that mien! xvii How changed these timid looks have been, Since years of guilt, and of disguise, Have steeled her brow and armed her eyes! 5 No more of virgin terror speaks The blood that mantles in her cheeks; 10 Would," thought he, as the picture grows, "I on its stalk had left the rose ! Oh, why should man's success remove The very charms that wake his love !— 15 Is now a prison harsh and rude; 20 Vigil and scourge—perchance e'en worse!' |