With truer aim or deadlier!
My arrow split his corslet thin,
His shirt of mail, and heart within ;
He took a plunge, and on his head
Pitched at Sir Geoffrey's feet-stone dead.
Then all the Paynim chivalry,
Who fought so stoutly round about,
Seemed stricken with some witchery;
For, loosing bridle suddenly,
They broke away in reeling rout,
And like a bursten water-spout,
The burst near swept us by.

I scarce can tell what happ'd till when
I found myself, for fear and joy,
Tears shedding, like a very boy,
And both the noble gentlemen
Whom I had deemed so surely slain,
Beside me standing, safe again;
While swathed in dust and flashing far,
At distance raged the flying war.
And there that kingly corse beside
We stood alone-and all that tide
I knew not for my joyous tears,
Or what we did or what we said,
Save that my hands were clasped in theirs,
While witless thanks to Heaven I paid;
For ah, my heart was filled with fears,
So wan they looked, so wild and dread.
At last across the hooff-toss'd land
We saw sweep back the English band;
And still we saw, amid the dust,
Bright in the van, the silver wolf
Which lit the helmet of Sir Roulf,
Which lights, and long will light, I trust.
With welcome loud and long embrace,
And friendly smile on bloody face,
Poured they around the barons twain :
Sir Roulf himself was first to strain
His rescued friends in welcome grim-
In full grim welcome, for he stood
From neck to heel, emboss'd in blood,
Though sound himself in lith and limb
"Now by Saint James," he cried, and here
His words are yet fresh on my ear,
"Now by Saint James of York, I vow,
I'd liefer make this rescue now,
Than have the fairest two domains
That merry England all contains!
These coward dogs, Sir Geoffrey, be
In somewhat lighter horsed than we ;
But of their light hoofs, trust me, some
Go lighter by their riders home.
But come, fair gentlemen, again
I see them muster on the plain :
Now if ye have desire to shiver
One other lance on unbeliever,
Or cleave one other pagan skull-
If such, my lords, your pleasure be,
To ride in my poor company
Would make my honor's measure full.
Ho, horses, lances here, I say,
For the Lords Lacey and De Grey!"

All silent stood Sir Geoffrey he,
But thus Sir John spake, low and hoarse:
"Alas, alas, no more for me,
Nor for my hapless kinsman here,
Is need for aught of manly gear:
Keep, kind Sir Roulf, your lance and horse,
Conquer alone, kind friend, for we
I fear me much on holy shore
Shall sword or lance need never more!
Conquer alone, kind friend for we
Are prisoners to this corse!"

"'Tis heavy news," Sir Roulf, he sighed,
A somewhat blenched, as he replied-
"The dogs have doubtless cause to hold
Such lances freedom very dear;
But let not present lack of gold,
Whate'er it be, cast down your cheer:
I'll freely pawn

"Alas! alas!"

'Twas thus the good Sir John replied;
For all the time Sir Geoffrey was
In sorrow dumb; quite stupified.
"Alas, alas, my generous friend,
Gold cannot help us; hope is none,
Save in our lady's grace alone :
Heaven, in this strait, may us befriend,
But hope in man is gone!
Withdraw a little space, I pray,
And Guy, he said, come listen too:
I and my kinsman, poor De Grey,
Charged late upon this damned crew,
And levelling lance in luckless day,
Were both borne down in the mellay.
Then as beneath our charger's weight
We lay, expecting instant fate,
That Arab prince beside us stood,
Who yonder welters in his blood,
Turned fromourthroats his troopers'knifes,
And terms proposed to spare our lives.
Ah, life grows sweet when death's decreed,
We thought of England, and agreed.
His captives now, we both have sworn,
To journey forth upon the morn
Unto his home, and thither bear
His corse for he, by magic, knew
His death at hand-which leaving there,
Our vow compels us to renew
Our fearful pilgrimage, where'er
His guards shall lead us; and prepared
Is convoy strong of guide and guard,
To bear us to those realms afar
Where dwells the King of Kandahar,
Whose daughter by some savage knight
Is challenged as his prize in fight,
Unless ere Baal's mystic morn
Some champion foil him: we have sworn
To do good battle, man to man,
On her behalf with that Soldan;
"But oh my friend, Sir John," he cried,
"I now had liefer I had died,
Than e'er lay Christian lance in rest
At pagan sorceress' behest!

For that she is some sorceress,
Some loathsome witch, I well can guess;
Who, if we should escape this foe,
(Some wizard giant, well I know,)
Can, by the force of obscene charms,
Stye us for life in brutish forms-
Yea, that 'tis all some damning plan
Of the arch enemy of man,

Is plain-but, with the help of heaven,
By holy men will both be shriven
This night, and then, come weal or woe,
As we have sworn we'll do it so."

Then for the first Sir Geoffrey spake:
"And tell in England, that we dared
These deadly snares and trials hard,"
"Alone"-I thought myheart would break;
And so I answered-" not alone,
Sweet master, while my father's son
Has life and limb to risk with you:
I'll serve you still, come what so may,
As still I've been I'll be alway,
In joy or sorrow, flight or fray,
Your loving servant old and true."
Both knights denied; but urging hard
Upon my knees at last for I

Was fixed with them to live or die-
The boon I prayed for was conferr'd:
And so, returning to the camp,
I worked all night by light of lamp,
Having all needful things prepared
For our wild journey: and next morn
Forth with sore heavy hearts we fared,
With many a mourning friend along,
Farewells and keepsakes rude among,
To yield us to the dogs unshorn,
Whose dead king, stiff and stark, was borne
By turns by twenty yeomen strong;
And fifty men at arms there were,
A goodly show of spears, that rode
With parleying trumpet singing clear.
And flag of truce displayed abroad.
And now when we had prick'd adown
The slope before their wakeful town,
Forth from that buzzing hive they poured,
The yellow-belted wasps; each one
All glittering in the morning sun;
Then from each troop a herald spurr'd,
And soon thereafter we, amid
A cloud of Arabs swart, were hid
From sight of Christian face, and thus
Began our journey perilous;
Which lasted over hill and dale,
And mountain dun, and desert pale,
And rolling river deep and wide,
Through five weeks rapid travel rude;
And all that time nor guard nor guide
Used tongue of Christian understood:
At last, deep in a scented wood

We saw the dead king's shining home:
It glittered o'er the sleek broad leaves,
With many a spire about the dome
Of gilded top and fretted eaves.

But what within that outside gay
Might be, I did not see to say;
For on we went, the dead man left
Whom of the same I had bereft ;
But no man knew 'twas I who drew
That day the palace spoiling yew,
Else had I paid a fearful due.

And so we still kept journeying on
Towards the rising of the sun,
By land and sea: a spicy gale
Lay three days on our galley's sail,
And landed us 'mong bulkier men
And taller than the Saracen :
These, too, we left, and saw at last
The azure tops of mountains vast,
But cross'd great ocean-streams, that
spawned

Monsters of full strange shape and size, (Sea-devils all, by my surmise,)

And many a dun glade yellow-lawned,
Of bladed grass as tall 's my head;
And trees of leaf so long and broad,
As never saw I equalled;

We passed there and a toilsome road
Of tedious weeks, before we came
Into full prospect of the same;
These mighty hills so wondrous high
Bared their blue summits to the sky;
Yet all this time, our guards and we
Never changed word of courtesy.

At length, when lost in bodings drear
And wonder at the strange things round
We rode one morning, on the ear
Came all at once a mighty sound
As of a shouting crowd far off;
The startled guides gave spur and rein,
And on we prick'd, o'er smooth and
rough,

Until upon a palmy plain
We saw at last a palace fair,
About whose courts and alleys rare
Of slender pillars light and long,
Was swaying eagerly a throng
Innumerable, that heaved and pressed
About one court above the rest,
Encircled by a crowd-piled fence,
And so unseen of us, from whence
Sudden the song of trumpets rose,
Then tramp of steeds and stun of blows
And shouts and yells of triumph shrill-
Our guards did but make haste the

more;

Nor they nor we drew rein, until
We stopped a vestibule before;
Nor they nor we drew breath at all
Until we entered--what a hall!

Tonight there was a sunset proud
With crowning pall of fiery cloud;
Into whose crimson chambers far
Could one have walked, the ærial roof
Of yellow flake and golden bar,
And side wall of the red mist woof,

And floor of waters clear and smooth,
Most like a crystal brimming cup,
Whose golden concave trembles up,
A pendent glory! there in sooth,
Could hardly him have dazzled more,
Than did that hall of tapestries
Of all the sun-flame's glorious dies,
Hanging again within a floor
Of slabbed and lucid porphyries,
Which double figures floated o'er-
Than did that purple paradise
Amaze and daze my dazzled eyes.

In midst there stood an ivory throne, Which all with great carbuncles shone; And a fair lady beautiful,

Whose presence made its splendor dull,
Who was the dead king's lady lone,
Robed all in saffron sat thereon.
Her face was wondrous bright, and shed
A moonlight lustre o'er her hair,
Which darkly clustered down, and spread
In soft bands o'er her shoulders fair;
Unnumbered jewels did she wear,
But sooth, although till then, I ne'er
Had seen such gems and rubies rare
As blazed around her every where,
I was not, in that presence bright,
So dazzled by the jewels' glare,
As by her eye-like face of light,
And eyes, beyond compare!

And, good Sir John, whoe'er had seen
Thy reverent gaze and altered mien,
Had asked no witchcraft to divine
What thoughts of witchcraft then were
thine.

Both knights I think I still can see,
With helmet doff'd, and bended knee,
Lay at her feet their proffered swords,
While he who bore the dead kings'

words

'Gan tell her, as it seem'd to me,

How her true knight was slain in fight,
And so her champion could not be;
But that, in lieu thereof, he sent
The captives of his sword, who were
Bound by their solemn covenant
To peril life and limb for her.
I say 'twas thus it seemed to me,
For she, at first, wept bitterly;
Then, as there came another shout
Of triumph from the crowd without,
With piteous looks of prayer, and speech
Sobbing and quick, but musical,
With white clasp'd hands, and eyes withal
Needing no tongue, did she beseech
An earnest space, the help of each;
Then sudden stopp'd in perplexed fit,
And seem'd abashed to think of it.
But up sprang Sir John Lacey, who
Although he did not know her tongue,
Yet well her face's language knew,
Up sprung he, and cried loud and strong,

“Fair lady, by our God, we'll do
Whatever men may to succour you!"
"We will, we will," Sir Geoffey cried;
And there the good knights, side by side,
Stood while she gave them sobbing
thanks:

And then the heralds led us forth
Again, down lanes of gazing ranks
Of pagans black, and pagans swarth,
And red men from the ends of earth,
Who thronged the court where was the
foe

To combat whom they so had sworn,
And who already on that morn
Had wrought to many a champion woe,
And whom till now we dreaded so,
Not having seen; and it was here,
Somewhat to raise our drooping cheer,
We had first sight of that Soldan
Flashing green flames against the sun-
A wondrous sight to look upon,
A wondrous sight; for horse and man,
From helm to heel, and head to hoof,
Were clad in shirts of scaly woof,
Close fitting as mine easy hose,
Yet limber on the limbs as those;
And all of glassy green scales wrought,
As trim as on a lizard's back:
Nay, till I saw Sir Geoffrey hack
Through scale and rivet sheer, I thought
That magic had indeed supplied
To each a natural dragon-hide.
So blazing stood that champion proud,
Bright contrast to the dusky crowd
Of goggle dwarfs, and grinning priests,
And slaves that gloomed in swarthy cloud,
From the grey backs of mountain beasts,
Whose horrid conclave frowned around
The far end of the tournay ground.

"Ha noble Lacy courage yet,"
Cried stout Sir Geoffrey, as his eye
First freely scann'd their enemy.
"Ha, noble Lacey, courage yet:
By heaven, I thought to see him set
On some red dragon, breathing fire,
Backed by a Griffin-mounted squire!
I thought to see some giant tall,
With double heads and twenty hands,
To tear us into shreds withal-
But would I e'er may see my lands
So sure, as into pieces small
I'll hack the Pagan where he stands !"
Ah, courage, dwarfeth giant foes!
Sir Geoffrey in his stirrups rose,
(They had drawn lots who first should

run,

And him the chance had fallen upon,) Strong as ten men in might of scorn: "Blow, villains, till your cheeks be torn!" Cried he, as changed the marshal's horn; "And Lacey, in this hour of need, Pray me God speed!"

Into the flank the spur he drave,
And ran his course-ah, Baron brave;
He was a rider stiff and stour,
And stood the shock like iron tower;
But though he kept his seat so well,
He shook not yet the infidel.
Both lances to the rests were riven;
And now a second time, among
The shouts of the astonished throng,
Fresh staves to both were duly given;
A second time the trumpets rang,
Forth sprang they to the charge once more;
But ere had ceased the trumpet's clang,
Horses and riders, all the four,
With reeling leap and spurning bound,
Were rolling wide upon the ground.
Sir Geoffrey pitched beyond the coil
Of the wild plunging steeds, and so
Sprang forth unhurt; but fierce turmoil
Of struggling hoofs perplexed his foe,
Who rose at last with crippled gait,
Of all his plumes and braveries peel'd;
Leaving, besides, beneath the weight
Of his stark horse's flank, his shield;
But dauntless still his crook blade drew;
Sir Geoffrey plucked his long sword out,
His shield away indignant threw,
And leaped upon him with a shout-
Saint George for merry England-ha!'
Saint George! what noble blows I saw
Both deal upon that listed ground!
Nor need to see, for, by my word,
You might distinguish by the sound
The blows of each: the Pagan's sword
Sang shrill and clear, as every stroke
Upon the polished steel was broke;
But down when came the answering blow,
Red Shearer's voice you then might know
Hoarse brawling through the splintered
scales,

That sprang at every stroke he made,
An emerald jet about the blade,
As thick as chaff beneath the flails;

For, fast as threshers' blows came down
On leaping sheaf, Sir Geoffrey pour'd
The springing battery of his sword
About the quivering Pagan's crown,
Who bore up bravely fighting yet,
Though reeling from each shock he
met,

Until at last, quite stunned and spent,
Beneath his bulk his body bent,
Down came the blows withouten let,
And flashing, down he went!

Forth thundered an exulting shout
From all the friendly Persian crowd,
While from the Sultan's savage rout,
Rose yells of rage and curses loud—
The swart dogs with their clenched
fists,

Blaspheming each his conquered god;
While heralds rushed into the lists,
And lifted painfully the load
Of trailing limbs and body broad,
Slack dangling arms and hanging head-
The battered infidel was dead.
For though his wondrous armour gave
No entrance to the sword edge keen,
Its scaly chainwork scarce could save
His flesh from Shearer's dint, I ween;
So, though on all his body's bulk,
From no cut wound the blood was shed;
Yet it so close with bloody whelk,
And livid bruise was overspread-
That when his clinging mail at last
Was stripped away, you would have
thought

All over shoulders, neck, and breast,
A net of crimson cords was wrought.

But, comrades, hark! the castle bell Chimes midnight: when we meet again I'll tell you further what befel

The Princess and her champions twain: Meantime, to bed; ho! strike a light— Reach me my staff-and so, good night.

A very short time was sufficient to complete the refection of the worthy Herr Hermann, both in lungs and stomach a few minutes of zealous and devoted application expended in transferring a reasonable quantity of the vintage of the Gironde into the latter, induced that member to hold out' as the diplomatic slang would term it, 'the most friendly assurances of an amicable disposition,' while the silence and calm which necessarily accompanied the operation restored his wind machinery to its original excellent efficiency.

All being now in order, and our attention solicited by a deep drawn sigh, which told as much of recent satisfaction as of anticipated exertion, the German thus proceeded with his

narration.

It would be impossible for me to describe to you the feelings of horror and desperation which overwhelmed the mind of the wretched Prosper, as returning consciousness gradually brought to him a knowledge of his situation. There he sat, to all appearance, a midnight plunderer, and Great God! a thousand times more dreadful, a blood-stained assassin, convicted too, upon proofs so clear and irrefragable, that none could entertain a doubt of his guiltiness. He was innocent, it is true, but alas! the consciousness of being so did not sustain him in this

hour of trial, for as he sought to look, with steady and unquailing eye, upon the officer who was busied in taking the depositions of the host and his wife, and making out the 'proces verbal,' the expression of horror and disgust with which he saw he was regarded, chilled his heart, and, unable to abide the look of his examiner, he turned his eyes to the earth in the stupor of utter hopelessness.

It was just then that he felt his hand pressed by that of some person whom he did not distinguish, and as he raised his eyes once more for the purpose of discovering who it was, and, as it might be, seeking for some friendly protector amongst that fearful crowd of enemies that surrounded him, he recognised, by the military uniform which he wore, that the surgeon of the demi-brigade, quartered at Andernach, stood beside him.

The gaze of scrutiny, with which this man regarded him, was so penetrating, so stern, so annihilating, that it crushed again the scarce reviving spirit of the unhappy youth; his whole frame shook with a cold convulsive tremor, and his head sunk helplessly upon the back of his chair; a bottle of smelling salts was, however, quickly procured, and one of the soldiers who stood by, having forced him to respire it, he again recovered the animation that seemed well nigh extinguished for ever.