99

Kolandseck.

SHATTERED arch, and a ruined pile,
Look down upon a verdant isle,

And the Rhine which flows below;

They tell us of a distant day,

Of times which long have passed away, And men who live not now.

In the lordly halls of Allemayne,
Whose hoary ruins still remain,

On many a mountain's side;

Music, and song, and revelry,

In the olden time were wont to be,

And shows of knightly pride.

Not so in yonder sombre place.—

The star which shewed its pallid face

In twilight's first dim hour,

Companion was of the glimmering light, Which twinkled through the livelong night In Roland's lonely tower.

A faithful dog which Roland loved,
A few retainers old and proved,

Were his companions dear;

And in his hall, a coat of mail
Hung, rusting, on a massive nail,—

A lance, and a broken spear.

Lord Roland was a Paladin,

And born was he of noble kin,—

His uncle, Charlemagne,

Had bred him up to knightly things,

Alike to shine in courts of kings,

And on the battle plain.

He went with the flower of chivalry,

To fight the foe in Italy;

But ere he went his hand,

And eke his true and constant heart,

Were pledged to the lovely Hildegart,

The fairest of the land.

His steed stood by and pawed the ground,

And the mountain rung with the bugle's sound,

When, at the castle gate,

She buckled on his goodly sword,

And blessed him with her parting word,
And wished him happy fate.

Thenceforward was his lady's name

The spell that led him on to fame,

And deeds of high renown;

In court and camp, 'midst beauty rare,

The love of Hildegart the fair

Bright in his bosom shone.

Small tidings had she of her lord,

But rumour sometimes brought her word,

Of his increasing fame;

And with a pride, all pride above

The pride which springs from woman's love— Heard she her lover's name.

And in her bower she spent her time,

Listening to the minstrel's rhyme

Of noble feats of arms;

Or reading of the knights of old,

Their deeds of love, their ventures bold

For woman's witching charms.

Thus Hildegart the livelong day,

Full happy, whiled the hours away

Her

In sports of gentle kind;

eyes with sweet contentment gleam,

For busy hope, and love's young dream,

Employ her gentle mind.

Of sorrow she had little heed

What time-fair maid! she most had need

To fear the touch of woe,

Deep clad is every face in gloom,

For tidings came to the lady's home
From the country of the foe.

A minstrel from Italia came,

His song was full of Roland's fame-
He saw him head the fight:

Fierce, onward, like a brilliant flash,

He saw his cohorts proudly dash
Where dangers most invite.

Hard was the fight-the day was won;
But when the fierce affray was done,

And ceased the trumpet's sound,

The minstrel told that, with the slain,
Outstretched upon the battle plain,

The Paladin was found.