"The wondrous tale no doubt thy tongue can tell, 460 "To him my thanks and thoughts shall be exprest." 465 "The mirthful meeting with a wordy war. "If thou, Sir Ezzelin, hast ought to show "Which it befits Count Lara's ear to know, "To-morrow, here, or elsewhere, as may "Beseem your mutual judgment, speak the rest; 470 "I pledge myself for thee, as not unknown, best 'Though like Count Lara now return'd alone "From other lands, almost a stranger grown; "Nor aught that knighthood may accord, deny." "To-morrow be it," Ezzelin replied, "And here our several worth and truth be tried; "I gage my life, my falchion to attest My words, so may I mingle with the blest!" What answers Lara? to its centre shrunk His soul, in deep abstraction sudden sunk; 475 480 The words of many, and the eyes of all That there were gather'd, seem'd on him to fall; 485 In far forgetfulness away-away- XXIV. "To-morrow!-ay, to-morrow!" further word 490 And, as he pass'd him, smiling met the frown With which that chieftain's brow would bear him down: It was nor smile of mirth, nor struggling pride Of all that he would do, or could endure. Could this mean peace? the calmness of the good? Alas! too like in confidence are each, For man to trust to mortal look or speech; 500 505 From deeds, and deeds alone, may he discern XXV. And Lara call'd his page, and went his way— Though not unknown the tongue of Lara's land, 510 515 But fleet his step, and clear his tones would come, 520 Friends', kindreds', parents', wonted voice recall, XXVI. Light was his form, and darkly delicate But had not marr'd, though in his beams he grew, 530 Yet less of sorrow than of pride was there, 535 540 545 Or if 'twere grief, a grief that none should share: And pleased not him the sports that please his age, The tricks of youth, the frolics of the page; For hours on Lara he would fix his glance, As all-forgotten in that watchful trance; And from his chief withdrawn, he wander'd lone, Brief were his answers, and his questions none; His walk the wood, his sport some foreign book; His resting-place the bank that curbs the brook: He seem'd, like him he served, to live apart From all that lures the eye, and fills the heart; To know no brotherhood, and take from earth No gift beyond that bitter boon-our birth. 550 XXVII. If aught he loved, 'twas Lara; but was shown In mute attention; and his care, which guess'd A spirit deep that brook'd not to be chid; 555 His zeal, though more than that of servile hands, 560 In act alone obeys, his air commands; As if 'twas Lara's less than his desire That thus he served, but surely not for hire. 565 On tomes of other times and tongues to pore; His soul, whate'er his station or his stem, 575 Another sex, when match'd with that smooth cheek, |