Billeder på siden

Through many a maze the winning song

In changeful passion led,
Till bent at length the listening throng

O'er Tristrem's dying bed.

His ancient wounds their scars expand;

With agony his heart is wrung ; O where is Isolde's lily hand,

And where her soothing tougue?

She comes, she comes !

-like flash of flame

Can lovers' footsteps ily:
She comes, she comes !-she only came

To see her Tristrem die.

She saw him die ;

her latest sigh Join'd in a kiss his parting breath : The gentlest pair, that Britain bare,

United are in death.

There paused the harp; its lingering sound

Died slowly on the ear ;
The silent guests still bent around,

For still they seem'd to hear.

Then woe broke forth in murmurs weak,

Nor ladies heaved alone the sigh ; But, half ashamed, the rugged cheek

Did many a gauntlet dry.

On Leader's stream, and Learmont's tower,

The mists of evening close; In

camp, in castle, or in bower, Each warrior sought repose.

Lord Douglas, in his lofty tent,

Dream'd o'er the woeful tale;
When footsteps light, across the bent,

The warrior's ears assail,

He starts, he wakes :-“ What, Richard, ho!

Arise, my page, arise !
What venturous wight, at dead of night,

Dare step where Douglas lies !"

Then forth they rush'd: by Leader's tide,

A selcouth* sight they seem.
A hart and hind pace side by side,

As white as snow on Fairnalie, .

Beneath the moon, with gesture proud,

They stately move and slow;
Nor scare they at the gathering crowd,

Who marvel as they go..

To Learmont's tower a message sped,..

As fast as page might run ;
And Thomas started from his bed,

And soon his clothes did on,

* Selcouth-Wondrous.

First he woxe pale, and then woxe red;

Never a word he spake but three ;My sand is run; my thread is spun ; This sign regardeth me."

The elfin harp his neck around,

In minstrel guise, he hung; And on the wind, in doleful sound,

Its dying accents rung:

Then forth he went ; yet turn'd him oft

To view his ancient hall;
On the grey tower, in lustre soft,

The autumn moon-beams fall.

And Leader's waves, like silver sheen,

Danced shimmering in the ray;
In deepening mass, at distance seen,"

Broad Soltra's mountains lay.

Farewell, my father's ancient tower !

A long farewell,” said he : “ The scene of pleasure, pomp, or power,

Thou never more shalt be.

“ To Learmont's name no foot of earth

Shall here again belong, And on thy, hospitable hearth

The hare shall leave her young.

“ Adieu ! Adieu !" again he cried,

All as he turn'd him roun'

“ Farewell to Leader's silver tide!

Farewell to Ercildoune !”.

The hart and hind approach'd the place,

As lingering yet he stood ;
Aud there, before Lord Douglas' face,

With them he cross'd the flood.

« ForrigeFortsæt »