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 tongue?

She comes, she comes!-like flash of flame

Can lovers' footsteps fly:

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;

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 see--

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,

*SelcouthWondrous.

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;

And there, before Lord Douglas' face,

With them he cross'd the flood.