“Ah, little traitress! none must know
What idle dream, what lighter thought,
What vanity full dearly bought,
Join’d to thine eye’s dark witchcraft, drew
My spellbound steps to Benvenue,
In dangerous hour, and all but gave
Thy Monarch’s life to mountain glaive!”—
Aloud he spoke,—“Thou still dost hold
That little talisman of gold,
Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James’s ring—