LAY OF SIR ROLAND. 



THE flower of Christian chivalry their swords and souls have vowed 

 To heaven's own consecrating cause, till Paynira might is bowed, 

 The dazzling power of beauty's eyes their hearts no more proclaim ; 

 A purer passion fires them now a higher, holier flame. 



And deadly foes forget their feuds, and side by side engage ; 

 Hot through the reeling pagan ranks their rival squadrons rage, 

 The holy sepulchre of Christ to wrest from heathen hold, 

 Or fall in glory as beseems the noble and the bold. 



But one among that press of knights profaned his sacred vow, 

 The victor of a hundred fights a laggard lozel now ; 

 His heart is haunted with the gleam of Ella's love-beamed smiles, 

 Lured from her in the rapture of their blest fianciailles. 



Vainly his Norman honour rose to rouse him with its thrill ; 

 His passion trampled down his pride, and rivetted his will. 

 He basely furled his sullied flag, and cast his honours down, 

 And homeward sped the suicide of all his young renown. 



" Then take thy way, thou faitour knight, thy recreant reckless way, 

 But hope not for the happiness that wiles thy heart astray ; 

 The ban of heaven shall blast thy path, and load thy days with dole, 

 Thy syren phantasies shall turn to scorpions in thy soul." 



" Ay, let the bigots chafe and chide, I'll find in Ella's bower 

 The strife and shame of stormy years repaid in one sweet hour." 

 Thus whispered hope to eager love, to charm his cheated thought, 

 Ere gloomed on his despairing eyes the ills dark fate had wrought 



His ravaged castle's silent hall its bruised and blackened tower ; 

 And she for whom he bartered fame a torn transplanted flower ; 

 " For vengeance ho ! we'll hunt that foe to death, ere day is dim 

 I cannot breathe the breath of life while it is breathed by him !" 



Away, away, with heart on fire, he races with the wind ; 

 His fiery lancemen spurring keen their destriers behind 

 " Away to spoil the spoiler's hold to raze it to the dust, 

 And send him howling to the fiend who fired that fatal lust !" 



O, wan and woe-begone the while, that lady made her moan 

 " To-morrow, and this dagger's point can rescue me alone !" 

 " A nearer and a better bides thine honour I will save ; 

 I've sworn it to my father's God, upon my father's glaive. 



Unmarked I've marked thy woes and wrongs I'll aid thee in thy need ; 

 Though Warcourt's squire, I spit upon this foul and caitiff deed ; 

 A candidate for knightly spurs must be no ruffian's slave, 

 And freedom I will win for thee, or for myself a grave. 



A trusty troop of men at arms have pledged to thee their faith, 

 And he lies dreaming deeply drugged, as sound and still as death ; 

 But thou must don his crested casque, his corslet and his chain, 

 To pass the warder on his watch the serf on his domain." 

 And she hath donned that gallant gear, and forth in war array, 

 Through the huge portal's guarded pass, ta'en her unchallenged way ; 

 On for dear life and liberty, their reeking steeds they goad, ' 

 When, lo ! a cloud of whirling duet comes rolling on their road. 



