XVII. Dark was the vaulted room of gramarye, To which the wizard led the gallant Knight, Save that before a mirror, huge and high, A hallowed taper shed a glimmering light On mystic implements of magic might; On cross, and character, and talisman, And almagest, and altar, nothing bright; As watch-light by the bed of some departing man. XVIII. But soon, within that mirror huge and high, Part lighted by a lamp with silver beam, And part by moonshine pale, and part was hid in gloom. XIX. Fair all the pageant-but how passing fair The slender form, which lay on couch of Ind! O'er her white bosom strayed her hazel hair, Pale her dear cheek, as if for love she pined; All in her night robe loose she lay reclined, And, pensive, read from tablet eburnine Some strain, that seemed her inmost soul to find:That favoured strain was Surrey's raptured line, That fair and lovely form, the Lady Geraldine. XX. Slow rolled the clouds upon the lovely form, And swept the goodly vision all away So royal envy rolled the murky storm beloved Master's glorious day. O'er my 'Thou jealous, ruthless tyrant! Heaven repay On thee, and on thy children's latest line, The wild caprice of thy despotic sway, The gory bridal bed, the plundered shrine, The murdered Surrey's blood, the tears of Geraldine! 2 XXI. Both Scots, and Southern chiefs, prolong Applauses of Fitztraver's song: These hated Henry's name as death, And those still held the ancient faith.— Thy pride and sorrow, fair Kirkwall!- As if grim Odinn rode her wave; And watched, the whilst, with visage pale, And throbbing heart, the struggling sail; N For all of wonderful and wild Had rapture for the lonely child. XXII. And much of wild and wonderful In these rude isles might Fancy cull; For thither came, in times afar, Stern Lochlin's sons of roving war, The Norsemen, trained to spoil and blood, Skilled to prepare the raven's food; Kings of the main their leaders brave, Their barks the dragons of the wave. And many a Runic column high Had witnessed grim idolatry. And thus had Harold, in his youth, Learned many a Saga's rhyme uncouth,Of that Sea-Snake, tremendous curled, Whose monstrous circle girds the world; Of those dread Maids, whose hideous yell Of chiefs, who, guided through the gloom By the pale death-lights of the tomb, Ransacked the graves of warriors old, Their faulchions wrenched from corpses' hold, Waked the deaf tomb with war's alarms, And bade the dead arise to arms! With war and wonder all on flame, To Roslin's bowers young Harold came, He learned a milder minstrelsy; Yet something of the northern spell Mixed with the softer numbers well. XXIII. O listen, listen, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell ; Soft is the note, and sad the lay, That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. |