"One morn they call'd me forth to sing
Fore our then liege, the English king.
Thy guest, my Lord de Semonville,
His gracious presence was the seal
Of favour to a servant true,
To boasted faith and fealty due!
"It never suits a royal ear
Prowess of foreign lands to hear;
And, leaving tales of Charlemagne
For British Arthur's earlier reign,
I, preluding with praise, began
The feats of that diviner man;
Let loose my soul in fairy land,
Gave wilder licence to my hand;
And, learn'd in chivalrous renown,
By song and story handed down,
Painted my knights from those around,
But placed them on poetic ground.
The ample brow, too smooth for guile;
The careless, fearless, open smile;
The shaded and yet arching eye,
At once reflective, kind, and shy;
The undesigning, dauntless look,—
Became to me a living book.
I read the character conceal'd,
Flash'd on by chance, or never known
Even to bosoms like its own;
Shrinking before a step intrude;
Touch, look, and whisper, all too rude;
Unsunn'd and fairest when reveal'd!
The first in every noble deed,
Most prompt to venture and to bleed!
Such hearts, so veil'd with angel wings,
Such cherish'd, tender, sacred things,
I since discover'd many a time,
O Britain! in thy temper'd clime;
In dew, in shade, in silence nurs'd,
For truth and sentiment athirst.
"As seas, with rough, surrounding wave,
Islands of verdant freshness save
From rash intruder's waste and spoil;—
As mountains rear their heads on high,
Present snow summits to the sky,
And weary patient feet with toil,
To screen some sweet, secluded vale,
And warm the air its flowers inhale;—
Reserve warns off approaching eyes
From where her choicer Eden lies.
"Such are the English knights, I cried,
Who all their better feelings hide;
Who muffle up their hearts with care,
To hide the virtues nestling there,
Who neither praise nor blame can bear.
"My hearers, though completely steel'd
For all the terrors of the field;
Mail'd for the arrow and the lance,
Bore not unharm'd my smiling glance;
At other times collected, brave,
Recoiled when I that picture gave;
As if their inmost heart, laid bare,
Shrank from the bleak, ungenial air.
"Proud of such prescience, on I went;—
The youthful monarch was content.
'Edgar de Langton, take this ring—
No! hither the young Minstrel bring:
Ourself can better still dispense
The honour and the recompence.'
I came, and, trembling, bent my knee.
He wonder'd that my looks were meek,
That blushes burnt upon my cheek!
'We would our little songstress see!
Remove those tresses! raise thy head!
Say, where is former courage fled,
'That all must now thy face infold?
At distance they were backward roll'd.
Whence, then, this most unfounded fear?
Are we so strange, so hateful here?'
"I strove in vain to lift my eyes,
And made some indistinct replies;
When one, more courteous and more kind,
Stepp'd forth to save my fainting mind.
'My liege, have pity! for, in truth,
It is too hard upon her youth.
Though so alert and fleet in song,
The strain was high, the race was long;
And she before has never seen
A monarch, save the fairy queen:
But does the lure of thought obey
As falcons their appointed way;
Train'd to one end, and wild as those
If aught they know not interpose.
Vain then is strength, and skill is vain,
Either to lead them or restrain.
The eye-lid closes, and the heart,
Low-sinking, plays a traitor's part;
While wings, of late so firmly spread,
Hang flagg'd and powerless as the dead!
With courts familiar from our birth,
Is it fit subject for our mirth,
That thus awakening from her theme,
Where she through air and sea pursues,
And all things governs, all subdues,
(Like fetter'd captive in a dream,)
Blindly to tread on unknown land,
Without a guide or helping hand,
No previous usage to befriend,
(As well we might an infant lend
Our eyes' experience, ear, or touch!)
Can we in reason wonder much,
Her steps are tottering and unsure
Where we have learnt to walk secure?
Is it not true, what I have told?'
Her paus'd, my features to behold—
Earl William paus'd: across his mien
A strong and sudden change was seen,
The courtier bend, protecting tone.
And smile of sympathy, were gone.
Abrupt his native accents broke,
And his lips trembled as he spoke.
"'How thus can Memory, in its flight,
On wings of gossamer alight,
Nor showing aim, nor leaving trace,
From a poor damsel's living face
To features of a brave, dead knight!
In eyes so young, and so benign,
What is it speaks of Palestine?
Of toils in early life I prov'd,
And of a comrade dearly lov'd!
'Tis true, he, like this maid, was young,
And gifted with a tuneful tongue!
His looks [Errata: locks], like her's, were bright and fair,
But light and laughing was his eye;
The prophecy of future care
In those thin, helmet lids we spy,
Veiling mild orbs, of changeful hue,
Where auburn half subsides in blue!
Lord Fauconberg, canst thou divine
What is the curve, or what the line,
That makes this girl, like lightning, send
Looks of our long lamented friend?
If Richard liv'd, that sorcery spell
Quickly his lion-heart would quell:
He never could her glance descry,
And any wish'd-for boon deny!
She's weeping too!—most strangely wrought
By workings of another's thought!
She knows no English; yet I speak
That language, and her paling cheek
With watery floods is overcast.—
Fair maid, we talk of times long past;
A friend we often mourn in vain—
A knight in distant battle slain,
Whose bones had moulder'd in the earth
Full many a year before thy birth.
He fed our ears with songs of old,
And one was of a heart of gold,—
A native ditty I would fain,
But never yet could hear again.
It spoke of friendship like his own,
Once only in existence known.
My prime of life the blessing crost,
And with it life's first charm I lost!'
"'Chieftain, allow me, on my knee
To sing that English song to thee!
For then I never dare to stand,
Nor take the harp within my hand;
Sacred it also is to me!
And it should please thy fancy well,
Since dear the lips from whence it fell;
'And dear the language which conveys
The only theme of real praise!
O! if in very truth thou art
A mourner for that loyal heart,
A lowly minstrel maid forgive,
Who strives to make remembrance live!'