[I] While the army of the crusaders was inactive near Ascalon, a truce having been agreed to between the Saracens and their assailants, the Grand Master of the Templars, Conrade Marquis of Montserrat, and others of the Christian Princes, were plotting to effect its dismemberment. Richard of England was the leading spirit of the crusade, and the plotters wished either to get rid of him or to inspire his colleagues with jealousy of his leadership. The Grand Master sought to have the King assassinated. Conrade tried to break up the league by milder means: he first provoked the Duke of Austria to insult the English banner; and then thinking rightly that the suspicion and wrath of Richard would fall upon Austria, he secretly stole the banner from its place. Its safe-keeping, after Austria's insult, had been entrusted by the King to Sir Kenneth, known as the Knight of the Leopard, in reality David Prince of Scotland, who in the disguise of an obscure gentleman had joined the crusade as a follower of the English King. Sir Kenneth was innocently decoyed from his watch, and in his absence, the banner, left with but his dog to guard it, was stolen by Conrade. For his failure of duty. Sir Kenneth was condemned to immediate death, but Saladin, who in the disguise of an Arab physician was in the English camp, and who had rescued the King from death by fever, urgently interceding, his life was spared. Saladin took Sir Kenneth to the camp of the Saracens, and knowing his worth and valor, having previously had knightly encounter with him in the desert, disguised him as a Nubian slave, and sent him as a present to Richard with the hope that he might in some way discover by whom the banner had been stolen. Attending Richard as a slave Sir Kenneth saved the king from the assassination which the Grand Master had instigated, and aided by the instinct of his dog, also disguised, he detected the thief in Conrade. Richard thereupon, at once charged Conrade with the theft, and challenged him to mortal combat. The King was prevented by the Council of the Princes from fighting in person, but having divined in the Nubian slave the former Knight of the Leopard, he permitted Sir Kenneth to fight in his stead, that the knight might atone for the dishonor of being faithless in his watch. Conrade's cause was espoused by the Grand Master, who had been his confidant, and by the Duke of Austria. The encounter was appointed to take place at the Diamond of the Desert, in the territory of Saladin, who was asked to act as umpire. It had been stipulated that but five hundred Saracens should be present at the trial; Saladin, however, having been apprised of further plotting on the part of the Grand Master, for safety's sake caused a larger attendance of his followers. Sir Kenneth had long loved Edith Plantagenet, but being known to her only as a poor and nameless adventurer, he had not yet openly avowed his love.
[XXXI]. TO A HIGHLAND GIRL.
(At Inversneyde, upon Loch Lomond.)
William Wordsworth.—1770-1850.
Sweet Highland girl, a very shower
Of beauty is thy earthly dower!
Twice seven consenting years have shed
Their utmost bounty on thy head:
And these gray rocks; this household lawn;
These trees, a veil just half withdrawn;
This fall of water, that doth make
A murmur near the silent lake;
This little bay, a quiet road
That holds in shelter thy abode;
In truth, together do ye seem
Like something fashion'd in a dream;
Such forms as from their covert peep
When earthly cares are laid asleep!
Yet, dream and vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human heart:
God shield thee to thy latest years!
Thee neither know I nor thy peers;
And yet my eyes are fill'd with tears.
With earnest feeling I shall pray
For thee when I am far away:
For never saw I mien, or face,
In which more plainly I could trace
Benignity and home-bred sense
Ripening in perfect innocence.
Here scatter'd like a random seed,
Remote from men, thou dost not need
The embarrass'd look of shy distress,
And maidenly shamefacèdness:
Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear
The freedom of a mountaineer:
A face with gladness overspread!
Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!
And seemliness complete, that sways
Thy courtesies, about thee plays;
With no restraint, but such as springs
From quick and eager visitings
Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach
Of thy few words of English speech:
A bondage sweetly brook'd, a strife
That gives thy gestures grace and life!
So have I, not unmov'd in mind,
Seen birds of tempest-loving kind,
Thus beating up against the wind.
What hand but would a garland cull
For thee who art so beautiful?
O happy pleasure! here to dwell
Beside thee in some heathy dell;
Adopt your homely ways, and dress,
A shepherd, thou a shepherdess!
But I could frame a wish for thee
More like a grave reality:
Thou art to me but as a wave
Of the wild sea; and I would have
Some claim upon thee, if I could,
Though but of common neighborhood.
What joy to hear thee, and to see!
Thy elder brother I would be,
Thy father, anything to thee!
Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace
Hath led me to this lonely place.
Joy have I had; and going hence
I bear away my recompense.
In spots like these it is we prize
Our memory, feel that she hath eyes:
Then, why should I be loth to stir?
I feel this place was made for her;
To give new pleasure like the past,
Continued long as life shall last.
Nor am I loth, though pleas'd at heart,
Sweet Highland girl! from thee to part;
For I, methinks, till I grow old,
As fair before me shall behold,
As I do now, the cabin small,
The lake, the bay, the waterfall;
And thee, the spirit of them all!