And Glaramara answer flung,
And Grisdale-pike responsive rung,
And Legbert heights their echoes
swung

As far as Derwent's dell.

VIII.

Forth upon trackless darkness gazed The Knight, bedeafen'd and amazed,

Till all was hush'd and still, Save the swoln torrent's sullen roar, And the night-blast that wildly bore Its course along the hill. Then on the northern sky there came A light, as of reflected flame,

And over Legbert-head, As if by magic art controll'd, A mighty meteor slowly roll'd

Its orb of fiery red;

Thou wouldst have thought some demon dire

Came, mounted on that car of fire,

To do his errand dread. Far on the sloping valley's course, On thicket, rock, and torrent hoarse, Shingle and Scrae, and Fell and Force,

A dusky light arose: Display'd, yet alter'd was the scene; Dark rock, and brook of silver sheen, Even the gay thicket's summer green, In bloody tincture glows.

IX.

De Vaux had mark'd the sunbeams set,

At eve, upon the coronet

Of that enchanted mound, And seen but crags at random flung, That, o'er the brawling torrent hung,

In desolation frown'd. What sees he by that meteor's lour? A banner'd Castle, keep, and tower, Return the lurid gleam, With battled walls and buttress fast, And barbican and ballium vast, And airy flanking towers, that cast

Their shadows on the stream.

'Tis no deceit ! distinctly clear
Crenell and parapet appear,
While o'er the pile that meteor drear
Makes momentary pause;

Then forth its solemn path it drew,
And fainter yet and fainter grew
Those gloomy towers upon the view,
As its wild light withdraws.

X.

Forth from the cave did Roland rush, O'er crag and stream, through brier and bush;

Yet far he had not sped
Ere sunk was that portentous light
Behind the hills, and utter night

Was on the valley spread.
He paused perforce, and blew his horn,
And on the mountain-echoes borne
Was heard an answering sound,
A wild and lonely trumpet-note;
In middle air it seem'd to float

High o'er the battled mound; And sounds were heard, as when a guard

Of some proud castle, holding ward, Pace forth their nightly round. The valiant Knight of Triermain Rung forth his challenge-blast again,

But answer came there none;
And 'mid the mingled wind and rain,
Darkling he sought the vale in vain,
Until the dawning shone;
And when it dawn'd, that wondrous
sight,

Distinctly seen by meteor light-
It all had pass'd away;

And that enchanted mount once more
A pile of granite fragments bore,
As at the close of day.

XI.

Steel'd for the deed, De Vaux's heart
Scorn'd from his vent'rous quest to part,
He walks the vale once more;
But only sees, by night or day,
That shatter'd pile of rocks so grey,
Hears but the torrent's roar.

Till when, through hills of azure

borne,

The moon renew'd her silver horn, Just at the time her waning ray Had faded in the dawning day,

A summer mist arose ; Adown the vale the vapours float, And cloudy undulations moat That tufted mound of mystic note,

As round its base they close. And higher now the fleecy tide Ascends its stern and shaggy side, Until the airy billows hide

The rock's majestic isle; It seem'd a veil of filmy lawn, By some fantastic fairy drawn Around enchanted pile.

XII.

The breeze came softly down the brook,
And, sighing as it blew,

The veil of silver mist it shook,
And to De Vaux's eager look

Renew'd that wondrous view. For, though the loitering vapour braved The gentle breeze, yet oft it waved

Its mantle's dewy fold;

And still, when shook that filmy screen, Were towers and bastions dimly seen, And Gothic battlements between

Their gloomy length unroll'd. Speed, speed, De Vaux, ere on thine

eye

Once more the fleeting vision die!

The gallant knight 'gan speed As prompt and light as, when the hound

Is opening, and the horn is wound, Careers the hunter's steed. Down the steep dell his course amain

Hath rivall'd archer's shaft;

But ere the mound he could attain, The rocks their shapeless form regain, And, mocking loud his labour vain,

The mountain spirits laugh'd. Far up the echoing dell was borne Their wild unearthly shout of scorn.

XIII.

Wroth wax'd the Warrior: 'Am I then

Fool'd by the enemies of men,

Like a poor hind, whose homeward

way

Is haunted by malicious fay?
Is Triermain become your taunt,
De Vaux your scorn? False fiends,
avaunt!'

A weighty curtal-axe he bare;
The baleful blade so bright and square,
And the tough shaft of heben wood,
Were oft in Scottish gore imbrued.
Backward his stately form he drew,
And at the rocks the weapon threw,
Just where one crag's projected crest
Hung proudly balanced o'er the rest.
Hurl'd with main force, the weapon's
shock

Rent a huge fragment of the rock.
If by mere strength, 'twere hard to
tell,

Or if the blow dissolved some spell, But down the headlong ruin came, With cloud of dust and flash of flame. Down bank, o'er bush, its course was: borne,

Crush'd lay the copse, the earth was. torn,

Till staid at length, the ruin dread. Cumber'd the torrent's rocky bed, And bade the waters' high-swoln tideSeek other passage for its pride.

XIV.

When ceased that thunder, Triermain Survey'd the mound's rude front again; And, lo! the ruin had laid bare, Hewn in the stone, a winding stair, Whose moss'd and fractured steps: might lend

The means the summit to ascend; And by whose aid the brave De Vaux Began to scale these magic rocks, And soon a platform won,

'Patience waits the destined day,
Strength can clear the cumber'd way.
Warrior, who hast waited long,
Firm of soul, of sinew strong,
It is given to thee to gaze
On the pile of ancient days.
Never mortal builder's hand
This enduring fabric plann'd;
Sign and sigil, word of power,
From the earth raised keep and tower.
View it o'er, and pace it round,
Rampart, turret, battled mound.
Dare no more! To cross the gate
Were to tamper with thy fate;
Strength and fortitude were vain,
View it o'er-and turn again.'

XVII.

'That would I,' said the Warrior bold, 'If that my frame were bent and old, And my thin blood dropp'd slow and cold

As icicle in thaw;

But while my heart can feel it dance, Blithe as the sparkling wine of France, And this good arm wields sword or lance,

I mock these words of awe!' He said; the wicket felt the sway Of his strong hand, and straight gave

way,

And, with rude crash and jarring bray,

The rusty bolts withdraw;

But o'er the threshold as he strode, And forward took the vaulted road, An unseen arm, with force amain, The ponderous gate flung close again, And rusted bolt and bar Spontaneous took their place once more,

While the deep arch with sullen roar Return'd their surly jar.

'Now closed is the gin and the prey within

By the Rood of Lanercost! But he that would win the war-wolf's skin

May rue him of his boast.' Thus muttering, on the Warrior went, By dubious light down steep descent.

XVIII.

Unbarr'd, unlock'd, unwatch'd, a port Led to the Castle's outer court: There the main fortress, broad and tall, Spread its long range of bower and hall, And towers of varied size, Wrought with each ornament extreme That Gothic art, in wildest dream

Of fancy, could devise; But full between the Warrior's way And the main portal arch, there lay An inner moat; Nor bridge nor boat

Affords De Vaux the means to cross
The clear, profound, and silent fosse.
His arms aside in haste he flings,
Cuirass of steel and hauberk rings,
And down falls helm, and down the
shield,

Rough with the dints of many a field.
Fair was his manly form, and fair
His keen dark eye, and close curl'd
hair,

When, all unarm'd, save that the brand
Of well-proved metal graced his hand,
With nought to fence his dauntless
breast

But the close gipon's under-vest,
Whose sullied buff the sable stains
Of hauberk and of mail retains,
Roland De Vaux upon the brim
Of the broad moat stood prompt to
swim.

XIX.

Accoutred thus he dared the tide, And soon he reach'd the farther side,

And enter'd soon the hold,

And paced a hall, whose walls so wide Were blazon'd all with feats of pride,

By warriors done of old. In middle lists they counter'd here,

While trumpets seem'd to blow; And there, in den or desert drear,

They quell'd gigantic foe, Braved the fierce griffon in his ire, Or faced the dragon's breath of fire. Strange in their arms, and strange in face,

Heroes they seem'd of ancient race, Whose deeds of arms, and race, and

name,

Forgotten long by later fame,

Were here depicted, to appal Those of an age degenerate, Whose bold intrusion braved their fate In this enchanted hall.

For some short space the venturous knight

With these high marvels fed his sight,

Then sought the chamber's upper end, Where three broad easy steps ascend

To an arch'd portal door,

In whose broad folding leaves of state Was framed a wicket window-grate, And, ere he ventured more,

The gallant Knight took earnest view The grated wicket-window through.

XX.

Oh, for his arms! Of martial weed
Had never mortal Knight such need!
He spied a stately gallery; all
Of snow-white marble was the wall,

The vaulting, and the floor;
And, contrast strange! on either hand
There stood array'd in sable band
Four maids whom Afric bore;

And each a Lybian tiger led,
Held by as bright and frail a thread
As Lucy's golden hair,-

For the leash that bound these monsters dread

Was but of gossamèr.

Each maiden's short barbaric vest
Left all unclosed the knee and breast,
And limbs of shapely jet;
White was their vest and turban's fold,
On arms and ankles rings of gold

In savage pomp were set;
A quiver on their shoulders lay,
And in their hand an assagay.
Such and so silent stood they there,
That Roland wellnigh hoped
He saw a band of statues rare,
Station'd the gazer's soul to scare;

But when the wicket oped, Each grisly beast 'gan upward draw, Roll'd his grim eye, and spread his claw,

Scented the air, and licked his jaw; While these weird maids, in Moorish

tongue,

A wild and dismal warning sung.

XXI.

'Rash adventurer, bear thee back! Dread the spell of Dahomay!

U

Fear the race of Zaharak,

Daughters of the burning day!

'When the whirlwind's gusts are wheeling,

Ours it is the dance to braid; Zarah's sands in pillars reeling

Join the measure that we tread, When the moon has donn'd her cloak,

And the stars are red to see, Shrill when pipes the sad siroc, Music meet for such as we. 'Where the shatter'd columns lie, Showing Carthage once had been, If the wandering Santon's eye

Our mysterious rites hath seen,Oft he cons the prayer of death,

To the nations preaches doom, "Azrael's brand hath left the sheath! Moslems, think upon the tomb!" 'Ours the scorpion, ours the snake,

Ours the hydra of the fen, Ours the tiger of the brake,

All that plague the sons of men. Ours the tempest's midnight wrack, Pestilence that wastes by day : Dread the race of Zaharak !

Fear the spell of Dahomay!'

XXII.

Uncouth and strange the accents shrill Rung those vaulted roofs among, Long it was ere, faint and still,

Died the far-resounding song.

While yet the distant echoes roll, The Warrior communed with his soul: "When first I took this venturous quest,

I swore upon the rood, Neither to stop, nor turn, nor rest,

For evil or for good.

My forward path too well I ween, Lies yonder fearful ranks between! For man unarm'd, 'tis bootless hope With tigers and with fiends to cope; Yet, if I turn, what waits me there, Save famine dire and fell despair?

Other conclusion let me try,
Since, choose howe'er I list, I die.
Forward, lies faith and knightly fame;
Behind, are perjury and shame.
In life or death I hold my word!'
With that he drew his trusty sword,
Caught down a banner from the wall,
And enter'd thus the fearful hall.

XXIII.

On high each wayward maiden threw
Her swarthy arm, with wild halloo-
On either side a tiger sprung:
Against the leftward foe he flung
The ready banner, to engage
With tangling folds the brutal rage;
The right-hand monster in mid air
He struck so fiercely and so fair,
Through gullet and through spinal
bone,

The trenchant blade had sheerly gone.
His grisly brethren ramp'd and yell'd,
But the slight leash their rage withheld,
Whilst, 'twixt their ranks, the danger-
ous road

Firmly, though swift, the champion strode.

Safe to the gallery's bound he drew, Safe pass'd an open portal through; And when against pursuit he flung The gate, judge if the echoes rung! Onward his daring course he bore, While, mix'd with dying growl and roar,

Wild jubilee and loud hurra

Pursued him on his venturous way.

XXIV.

'Hurra, hurra! our watch is done! We hail once more the tropic sun. Pallid beams of northern day, Farewell, farewell! Hurra, hurra! 'Five hundred years o'er this cold glen

Hath the pale sun come round agen; Foot of man, till now, hath ne'er Dared to cross the Hall of Fear.