27. The Lady's gentle heart was moved, "Do up the gate," she said, 28. It was the stalwart warder then undid the portal broad, It was the noble Moringer that o'er the threshold strode; "And have thou thanks, kind heaven," he said, "though from a man of sin, That the true Lord stands here once more his castle gate within." 29. Then up the hall paced Moringer, his step was sad and slow, 30. Now spent was day and feasting o'er, and come was evening hour, 31. Then spoke the youthful bridegroom there as he sat by the bride, Our pilgrim guest must sing a lay, the castle's rule to hold, And well his guerdon will I pay with garment and with gold." 32. "Chill flows the lay of frozen age," 'twas thus the pilgrim sung, "Nor golden mead, nor garment gay unlocks her heavy tongue; Once did I sit, thou bridegroom gay, at board as rich as thine, And by my side as fair a bride with all her charms was mine. 33. "But time traced furrows on my face, and I grew silver-haired, 34. It was the noble Lady there this woeful lay that hears, And for the aged pilgrim's grief her eye was dimm'd with tears; And bear it to the palmer poor to quaff it for her sake. 35. It was the noble Moringer that dropp'd amid the wine 36. Then to the cup-bearer he said, "Do me one kindly deed, 37. The cup-bearer was courtly bred, nor was the boon denied, 38. The ring hath caught the Lady's eye, she views it close and near, Then might you hear her shriek aloud, "The Moringer is here!" Then might you see her start from seat, while tears in torrents fell,But whether 'twas for joy or woe the ladies best can tell. 39. But loud she utter'd thanks to heaven, and every saintly power, 40. "Yes, here I claim the praise," she said, "to constant matrons due, 41. It was Marstetten then rose up, his falchion there he drew, He kneel'd before the Moringer, and down his weapon threw ; "My oath and knightly faith are broke," these were the words he said, "Then take, my liege, thy vassal's sword, and take thy vassal's head." 42. The noble Moringer he smiled, and then aloud did say, "He gathers wisdom that hath roam'd seven twelvemonths and a day; My daughter now hath fifteen years, fame speaks her sweet and fair, I give her for the bride you lose, and name her for my heir." 43. The young bridegroom hath youthful bride, the old bridegroom the old, THE GRAVE OF CRAZY JANE From the MS. of the late John Finlay, Author of Wallace, &c. 1. PEACEFUL is the grave of lovers, When from all their cares they sleep, Soft the turf their bosom covers, And their eyes have ceased to weep. In this valley silent wandering, Oft I mark at dewy e'en, Through the shades of twilight gathering, 2. Oft I heard the voice of anguish 3. Now her heart has still'd its motion, 4 Mark the spot, where, silent yonder, THE DEATH OF KING JUAN OF CASTILLE, AND DON RAYMON OF BUTRAGO. FROM THE OLD SPANISH. "YOUR horse is faint, my King, my Lord, your gallant horse is sick, "My King, my King, you're wounded sore, the blood runs from your feet- "Stand, noble steed, this hour of need, be gentle as a lamb "Nay, never speak-my sires, Lord King, received their land from yours, "Oh, Raymon!"-" Nay-oh, Juan, no time for parley now- King Juan's horse fell lifeless-Don Raymon's horse stood by, 'Gainst the same tree their backs they placed... they hacked the king in twainDon Raymon's arms his corpse embraced-and so they both were slain. But when the Moor Almasar beheld what had been done, "God grant may ne'er to Christian men this Moorish`shame be told!” |