As he was leaving the palace, he turned his eyes towards the casements of the Lady de Vere. They were eminently conspicuous, for they were open, and lighted up with great brilliancy, while the sound of the harp came from them. He thought of the invitation he had received, and hung about for some time, weighing circumstances, and hesitating whether he should immediately avail himself of it, that he might ascertain the truth, or whether he should, in the first place, endeavour to gather it by some other means. Passion argued for the first, as the most decided step, and prudence urged the second as the wisest plan; but whilst he was tossed between them, he was gradually drawn towards the windows by the unseen magnet within. As he got nearer, he ascertained that it was a man’s voice that sung the melody and words, to which the instrument was an accompaniment; and by the time he reached the bottom of the flight of steps, he could catch the remaining verses of a ballad, part of which had been already sung. They were nearly as follows:—
“And wilt thou break thy faith with me,
And dare our vows to rend?”
“Hence!” cried the angry sire; “with thee
My Eda ne’er shall wend.
“Her name doth prouder match demand;
Lord Henry comes to-night;
He comes to take her promised hand,
And claim a husband’s right.
“Then hence!”—The knight, in woful guise,