For when to tune his harp he tried, And then, he said, he would full fain It was not framed for village churls, Amid the strings his fingers strayed, In varying cadence soft or strong, He swept the sounding chords along; In the full tide of song were lost. THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. CANTO FIRST. I. THE feast was over in Branksome tower, Jesu Maria, shield us well! No living wight, save the ladye alone, Had dared to cross the threshold stone. II. The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all; Or crowded round the ample fire. The stag-hounds, weary with the chase, III. Nine-and-twenty knights of fame Hung their shields in Branksome Hall; Nine-and-twenty squires of name, Brought them their steeds from bower to stall; Nine-and-twenty yeomen tall, Waited, duteous, on them all: They were all knights of mettle true, IV. Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With corselet laced, Pillowed on buckler cold and hard; They carved at the meal With gloves of steel, And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred. |