V.

ESTING upon his pilgrim staff, Right opposite the Palmer stood; His thin dark visage seen but half, Half hidden by his hood.

Still fix'd on Marmion was his look,

Which he, who ill such gaze could brook, Strove by a frown to quell ;

But not for that, though more than once Full met their stern encountering glance, The Palmer's visage fell.

VI.

Y fits less frequent from the crowd Was heard the burst of laughter loud; For still, as squire and archer stared On that dark face and matted beard, Their glee and game declined. All gazed at length in silence drear, Unbroke, save when in comrade's ear Some yeoman, wondering in his fear,

Thus whisper'd forth his mind :— "Saint Mary! saw'st thou e'er such sight? How pale his cheek, his eye how bright,

Whene'er the fire-brand's fickle light
Glances beneath his cowl!

Full on our Lord he sets his eye;
For his best palfrey, would not I
Endure that sullen scowl.”—

VII.

UT Marmion, as to chase the awe
Which thus had quell'd their hearts, who

saw

The ever-varying fire-light show

That figure stern and face of woe,
Now call'd upon a squire

"Fitz-Eustace, know'st thou not some lay, To speed the lingering night away?

We slumber by the fire.”—

VIII.

O please you," thus the youth re

join'd,

"Our choicest minstrel's left behind.

Ill may we hope to please your ear,
Accustom'd Constant's strains to hear.
The harp full deftly can he strike,
And wake the lover's lute alike;

To dear Saint Valentine, no thrush
Sings livelier from a spring-tide bush,
No nightingale her love-lorn tune
More sweetly warbles to the moon.
Woe to the cause, whate'er it be,
Detains from us his melody,
Lavish'd on rocks, and billows stern,
Or duller monks of Lindisfarne.
Now must I venture, as I may,
To sing his favourite roundelay."—

IX.

MELLOW voice Fitz-Eustace had,

The air he chose was wild and sad ; Such have I heard, in Scottish land, Rise from the busy harvest band, When falls before the mountaineer, On Lowland plains, the ripen'd ear. Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, Now a wild chorus swells the song: Oft have I listen'd, and stood still, As it came soften'd up the hill, And deem'd it the lament of men

Who languish'd for their native glen ;

And thought how sad would be such sound
On Susquehana's swampy ground,
Kentucky's wood-encumber'd brake,
Or wild Ontario's boundless lake,
Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain,
Recall'd fair Scotland's hills again!

X.

Song.

Where shall the lober rest,

Whom the fates seber

From his true maiden's breast,

Parted for ever?

Where, through groves deep and high,

Sounds the far billow,

Where early biolets die,

Under the willow.

Choruz.

Eleu loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillow.

There, through the summer day,

Cool streams are labing ;

There, while the tempests sway,

Scarce are boughs waving;

There, thy rest shalt thou take,
Parted for eber,

Neber, again to wake,
Neber, Oneber.

Choruz.

Elen loro, &c. Neber, O neber.

XI.

Where shall the traitor rest,
He, the deceiver,

Who could win maiden's breast,

Ruin, and leave her ?

In the lost battle,

Borne down by the flying,

Where mingles war's rattle

With groans of the dying.

Choruz.

Elen 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.