r brook
Their lords' high tone and careless look;
Whose praises had awaken'd pride
In bosoms dead to all beside.

Warriors, infirm with battles grown,
Were there, in languid grandeur thrown
On the low bench, who seem'd to say,
"Our mortal vigour wanes away;"
And gentle maid, with aspect meek,
While cloud-like blushes cross her cheek,
Restless awaits the Minstrel's power
To dispossess the present hour,
And by a spirit-seizing charm,
Her thoughts employ, her fancy warm,
And snatch her from the mute distress
Of conscious, breathless bashfulness.

Young knights, who never tamely wait,
Crowd in the porch, or near the gate,
By quick return, and sudden throng,
Announcing the expected song.

The Minstrel comes, and, by command,
Before the nobles of the land,
In her poor order's simple dress,
Grac'd only by the native tress,
A flowing mass of yellow'd light,
Whose bold swells gleam with silver bright,
And dove-like shadows sink from sight.
Those long, soft locks, in many a wave
Curv'd with each turn her figure gave;
Thick, or if threatening to divide,
They still by sunny meshes hide;
Eluding, by commingling lines,
Whatever severs or defines.

Amid the crowd of beauties there,
None were so exquisitely fair;
And, with the tender, mellow'd air,
The taper, flexile, polish'd limb,
The form so perfect, yet so slim,
And movement, only thought to grace
The dark and yielding Eastern race;
As if on pure and brilliant day
Repose, as soft as moonlight, lay.

Reluctant still she seem'd,--her feet
Sought slowly the appointed seat:
Her hand, oft lifting to her head,
She lightly o'er her forehead spread;
Then the unconscious motion check'd,
And, struggling with her own neglect,
Seem'd as she but by effort found
The presence of an audience round.

Meanwhile the murmurings died away
Which spake impatience of delay:
A pitying wonder, new and kind,
Arose in each beholder's mind:
They saw no scorn to meet reproof,
No arrogance to keep aloof;
Her air absorb'd, her sadden'd mien,
Combin'd the mourning, captive queen,
With _her_ who at the altar stands
To raise aloft her spotless hands,
In meek and persevering prayer,
For such as falter in despair.
Al