Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, Oft have I listened, and stood still, As it came softened up the hill, 10 And deemed it the lament of men Who languished for their native glen; And thought how sad would be such sound, 15 Kentucky's wood-ercumbered brake, 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. X 5 Eleu loro, &c. There shall he be lying. Her wing shall the eagle flap O'er the false-hearted; His warm blood the wolf shall lap, Ere life be parted. Shame and dishonour sit By his grave ever; Blessing shall hallow it, Never, O never! CHORUS. Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never! IT CEASED, the melancholy sound; xi 5 10 15 xii 5 He drew his mantle past his face, And rested with his head a space, 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! Fear, for their scourge, mean villains have, Their minds to bear the wounds they feel; For soon Lord Marmion raised his head, Say, what may this portend ?". Then first the Palmer silence broke, (The livelong day he had not spoke,) "The death of a dear friend." MARMION, whose steady heart and eye Ne'er changed in worst extremity; 5 10 15 xiv Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook, 5 In camps, the boldest of the bold: 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. Which on the living closed the tomb : 10 15 XV 5 10 And deemed restraint in convent strange Would hide her wrongs, and her revenge. Himself, proud Henry's favourite peer, 15 Held Romish thunders idle fear, For some slight mulct of penance-gold. When the stern priests surprised their prey : His conscience slept-he deemed her well, xvi But, wakened by her favourite lay, 5 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; Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven!— 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; And, pent within the narrow cell, 20 |