Alas! they had been friends in youth; To free the hollow heart from paining 420 Again she saw that bosom old, Whereat the Knight turned wildly round, 460 They stood aloof, the scars remaining, A dreary sea now flows between. But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been. maid Yet he, who saw this Geraldine, “Nay ! Nay, by my soul !' said Leoline. Ho! Bracy the bard, the charge be thine ! Go thou, with music sweet and loud, And take two steeds with trappings proud, And take the youth whom thou lov'st best To bear thy harp, and learn thy song, 'And when he has crossed the Irthing flood, My merry bard! he hastes, he hastes And reaches soon that castle good wastes. 'Bard Bracy! bard Bracy! your horses are fleet, Ye must ride up the hall, your music so sweet, More loud than your horses' echoing And what the sweet bird's trouble meant, Why is thy cheek so wan and wild, That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled, And wouldst thou wrong thy only child, Within the Baron's heart and brain Dishonour'd thus in his old age; Dishonour'd by his only child, And all his hospitality To the insulted daughter of his friend And said in tones abrupt, austere 650 THE CONCLUSION TO PART THE SECOND A little child, a limber elf, है 660 A fairy thing with red round cheeks, 670 A sweet recoil of love and pity. FRANCE: AN ODE I YE Clouds! that far above me float and pause, Whose pathless march no mortal may controul ! Though dear her shores and circling ocean, Then I reproached my fears that would not flee ; Though many friendships, many youthful And soon,' I said, 'shall Wisdom To all that braved the tyrant-quelling Till Love and Joy look round, and call With that sweet music of deliverance And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's One thought that ever blessed your cruel dream! Ye storms, that round the dawning east assembled, The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!' And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled, foes! To scatter rage and traitorous guilt Where Peace her jealous home had built; A patriot-race to disinherit Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear; And with inexpiable spirit The dissonance ceased, and all seemed To taint the bloodless freedom of the calm and bright; 50 mountaineer When France her front deep-scarr'd O France, that mockest Heaven, adul and gory Concealed with clustering wreaths of |