hy compassion: not for me--
I reck not whether vengeance wake or sleep--
But for the safety of this innocent maid
I speak. South of the Humber, in a cave,
Concealed amidst the rocks and tangled brakes,
I have deposited some needful weeds
For this sad hour; for well, indeed, I knew,
If all should fail, this maiden's last resolve, 130
To kneel upon her father's grave, or die.
For this I have provided; but the time
Is precious, and the sun is westering slow;
The fierce eye of the lion may be turned
Upon this spot to-morrow! Adela,
Now hear your friend, your father! The fleet hour
Is passing, never to return: oh, seize
The instant! Thou, King Malcolm, grant my prayer!
If we embark, and leave the shores this night,
The voice of fame will bruit it far and wide, 140
That Harold's children fled with thee, and sought 141
A refuge in thy kingdom. None will know
Our destination. In thy boat conveyed,
We may be landed near the rocky cave;
The boat again ply to thy ships, and they
Plough homeward the north seas, whilst we are left
To fate. Again the pilot's voice was heard;
And, o'er the sand-hills, an approaching file
Of Norman soldiers, with projected spears,
Already seemed as rushing on their prey. 150
Then Ailric took the hand of Adela;
She and her brothers, and young Atheling,
And Scotland's king, are in one boat embarked.
Meantime the sun sets red, and twilight shades
The sinking hills. The solitary boat
Has reached the adverse shore.
Here, then, we part!
King Malcolm said; and every voice replied,
God speed brave Malcolm to his father's land!
Ailric, the brothers, and their sister, left 160
The boat; they stood upon the moonlit beach,
Still listening to the sounds, as they grew faint,
Of the receding oars, and watching still
If one white streak at distance, as they dipped,
Were seen, till all was solitude around.
Pensive, they sought a refuge for that night
In the bleak ocean-cave. The morning dawns;
The brothers have put off the plumes of war,
Dropping one tear upon the sword. Disguised
In garb to suit their fortunes, they appear 170
Like shipwrecked seamen of Armorica,
By a Franciscan hermit through the land
Led to