XXXI. "Did'st never, good my youth, hear tell, That on the hour when I was born, St. George, who graced my sire's chapelle, Vain thought! for elves, if elves there be, To dashing waters dance and sing, Or round the green oak wheel their ring."Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode, And from the hostel slowly rode. XXXII. Fitz-Eustace followed him abroad, And marked him pace the village road, And listened to his horse's tramp, Till, by the lessening sound, He judged that of the Pictish camp Ride forth in silence of the night, For little did Fitz-Eustace know, Wearied from doubt to doubt to flee, We welcome fond credulity, Guide confident, though blind. XXXIII. Little for this Fitz-Eustace cared, Down hastily he sprung from selle, *Used by old poets for went. Long musing on these wondrous signs; END OF CANTO THIRD. |