Away! my friends, there's little breath in proud Sir D'Ar gencourt, Away! my friends, I win her yet-fair Isabel D'Etours !' VI. Bright shines the sun upon the waves-the waters of blue Garonne, But brighter shine those diamond eyes in the lists at Rous silon ; And trumpets bray, and banners stream, and chargers gallop round, And noble hearts beat quick for praise, with many an aching bound; But who is she who wins all looks-for whom all ride the ring To gain a smile of whose dark eye were glory for a king? Ha! did you mark that sudden blush-that deadly paleness then See you the knight on whom is fixed so eagerly her ken? It is the Count Alcaras,' for his Spanish crest she knew, 'But why wears he that plaited scarf-that scarf of gold and blue?' VII. 'I took it, lady,' boastingly, the crafty Spaniard said, From one I forced to yield beneath my more victorious blade; He gave it me with right good will, his life was all he sought, Too cheaply with the coward's death, so rich a prize I bought.' Now, by St Louis! braggart base!' fair Isabel replied, "I tell thee in thy craven teeth, that loudly thou hast lied !' Then bared she strait her snow-white hand, and down she threw her glove, Oh! is there is any knight who here, for honour or for love, Will make the Count Alcaras his unhallowed falsehood rue, And win me back that well-known scarf-that scarf of gold and blue ?' VIII. A hundred swords leaped forth at once, to do her proud behest, A hundred lords were at her feet, a hundred spears in rest; But she has singled from them all that solitary knight Who wears his coal-black vizor down, nor yet has proved his might. The heralds sound the onset, and they meet with deadly shock; The Count has fallen from his horse, the knight sits as a rock; But when he saw Alcaras down, he staid not on his steed, And when he saw Alcaras' lance was shivered as a reed, Away, without one word, the knight that instant cast his own; And forth he drew his glittering sword, that as a sunbeam shone, With one fierce blow he cleft the casque the Spaniard proudly wore, And with the next struck off the arm on which the scarf he bore! Then thrice he kissed that well-won scarf-that scarf of gold and blue, And raised his vizor as he knelt to her he found so true; Oh! dearly was that scarf beloved by Sir Eustace D'Ar gencourt, But dearer far the prize he won in Isabel D'Etours ! H. G. B. FROM THE LADY OF THE LAKE. They bid me sleep-they bid me pray, They say my brain is warped and wrung. I cannot sleep on Highland brae, I cannot pray in Highland tongue. But were I now where Allan glides, 'Twas thus my hair they bade me braid, They bade me to the church repair; It was my bridal morn, they said, And my true love would meet me there.- That drowned in blood the morning smile! I only waked to sob and scream !— Sir Walter Scott. EXTEMPORE. By the Rev. Dr John Erskine on hearing an Officer swear. Soldier! so tender of thy prince's fame, WRITTEN IN THE CASE OF A WATCH. See, reader, here, in youth, or age, or prime, Think what a moment is to him who dies. THE POWER OF FAITH. 'Twas summer, and a Sabbath eve, And balmy was the air, I saw a sight that made me grieve, yet the sight was fair, And For in a coffin lay Two little babes as sweet as May. Like waxen dolls that infants dress Their little bodies were; A look of placid happiness Did on each face appear. Anon. |