How different now! condemn'd to bide

My doom from this dark tyrant's pride.

But Marmion has to learn, ere long,

That constant mind, and hate of wrong,

Descended to a feeble girl,

From Red De Clare, stout Gloster's Earl:

Of such a stem a sapling weak,

He ne'er shall bend, although he break.

V.

"But see!-what makes this armour here?"

For in her path there lay

Targe, corslet, helm ;-she view'd them near.— "The breast-plate pierced!—Ay, much I fear, Weak fence wert thou 'gainst foeman's spear,

That hath made fatal entrance here,

As these dark blood-gouts say.

Thus Wilton!-Oh! not corslet's ward,

Not truth, as diamond pure and hard,

Could be thy manly bosom's guard

On yon disastrous day!".

She raised her eyes in mournful mood,—

-WILTON himself before her stood!

It might have seem'd his passing ghost, For every youthful grace was lost;

And joy unwonted, and surprise,

Gave their strange wildness to his eyes.-
Expect not, noble dames and lords,

That I can tell such scene in words:
What skilful limner e'er would chuse
To paint the rainbow's varying hues,
Unless to mortal it were given

To dip his brush in dyes of heaven?
Far less can my weak line declare
Each changing passion's shade;
Brightening to rapture from despair,
Sorrow, surprise, and pity there,

And joy, with her angelic air,

And hope, that paints the future fair,

Their varying hues display'd:

Each o'er its rival's ground extending,

Alternate conquering, shifting, blending,

Till all, fatigued, the conflict yield,

And mighty Love retains the field.

Shortly I tell what then he said,

By many a tender word delay'd,
And modest blush, and bursting sigh,
And question kind, and fond reply.

VI.

De Wilton's History.

"Forget we that disastrous day,

When senseless in the lists I lay.

Thence dragg'd,-but how I cannot know,

For sense and recollection fled,

I found me on a pallet low,

Within my ancient beadsman's shed.

Austin,-remember'st thou, my Clare,

How thou didst blush, when the old man,

When first our infant love began,

Said we would make a matchless pair ?-
Menials, and friends, and kinsmen fled

From the degraded traitor's bed,—

He, only, held my burning head,

And tended me for many a day,

While wounds and fever held their sway.

But far more needful was his care, When sense return'd to wake despair; For I did tear the closing wound,

And dash me frantic on the ground, If e'er I heard the name of Clare.

At length, to calmer reason brought,
Much by his kind attendance wrought,
With him I left my native strand,

And, in a palmer's weeds array'd,
My hated name and form to shade,
I journey'd many a land;

No more a lord of rank and birth,
But mingled with the dregs of earth.
Oft Austin for my reason fear'd,

When I would sit, and deeply brood

On dark revenge, and deeds of blood, Or wild mad schemes uprear'd.

My friend at length fell sick, and said,

God would remove him soon;

And, while upon his dying bed,

He begg❜d of me a boon

If e'er my deadliest enemy

Beneath my brand should conquer'd lie,

Even then my mercy should awake,

And spare his life for Austin's sake.

VII.

"Still restless as a second Cain,

To Scotland next my route was ta'en,

Full well the paths I knew.

Fame of my fate made various sound,

That death in pilgrimage I found,

That I had perish'd of my wound,

None cared which tale was true:

And living eye could never guess

De Wilton in his palmer's dress;

For, now that sable slough is shed,

And trimm'd my shaggy beard and head,