This signet shall secure thy way;
And claim thy suit, whate’er it be,
As ransom of his pledge to me.”
He placed the golden circlet on,
Paused—kiss’d her hand—and then was gone.
The aged Minstrel stood aghast,
So hastily Fitz-James shot past.
He join’d his guide, and wending down
The ridges of the mountain brown,
Across the stream they took their way,