insel bewitches:
A bosom I seek
That is true, like mine own,--
Though pale be the cheek,
And its roses all flown,--
And the wearer be desolate, wretched, forlorn,--
And alike from each soul-soothing solace be torn.

That heart I would choose, which is stricken and slighted;
Whose joys are all fled, and whose hopes are all blighted;
For that heart alone
Would in sympathy thrill
With one like my own
That sorrow doth fill;--
With a heart whose fond breathings have ever been spurned,--
And hath long their rejection in solitude mourned.

The harp of my heart is unstrung; and to gladness
Respond not its chords--but to sorrow and sadness:--
Then speak not of mirth which my soul hath forsaken!
Why would ye my heart-breaking sorrows awaken?

* * * * *

It is the shriek of deathful danger!
None heed the heart-plaint of the stranger!
All start aghast, with deadly fear,
While they, again, that wild shriek hear!

"He drowns--Sir Wilfrid!" cries a hind:
"The ferryman is weak:
He cannot stem the stream and wind:
Help, help! for Jesu's sake!"

"Help one,--help all!" the Baron cries;
"Whatever boon he craves,
I swear, by Christ, that man shall win,
My ferryman who saves!"--

Out rush the guests: but one was forth
Who heard no word of boon:
His manly heart to deeds of worth
Needed no clarion.

He dashed into the surging Trent--
Nor feared the hurricane;
And, ere the breath of life was spent,
He seized the drowning man.--

"What is thy boon?" said Torksey's lord,--
But his cheek was deadly pale;
"Tell forth thy heart,--and to keep his word
De Thorold will not fail."--

"I rushed to save my brother-man,
And not to win thy boon:
My just desert had been Heaven's ban--
If thus I had not done!"--

Thus spake the minstrel, when the hall
The Baron's guests had gained:
And, now, De Thorold's noble soul
Spoke out, all unrestrained.

"Then for thy own heart's nobleness
Tell forth thy boon," he said;
"Before thou tell'st thy thought, I guess
What wish doth it pervade."--

"Sweet Edith, his true, plighted love,
Romara asks of thee!
What though my kindred with thee strove,
And wrought thee misery?

"Our Lord, for whom we keep this day,
When nailed upon the tree;
Did he foredoom his foes, or pray
That