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He met her eye, but its vacant gaze
Had not the light of its living rays;
Yet still that trembling lover pressed
The maiden to his throbbing breast,
Till consciousness returned again,

And the tears flowed out like summer rain.
There was the bliss of a hundred years

In the rush of those delicious tears!

The helm from off the warrior's head Is doffed to bear the liquor red;

That casque, I trow, is deep and high,

But the Monk and the Giant shall drain it dry; And which of the two, when the feat is done, Shall keep his legs at set of sun?

They filled to the brim that helm of gold,
And the Monk hath drained its ample hold;
Silent and slow the liquor fell,

As into some capacious well:
Tranquilly flowing down it went,

And made no noise in its long descent;
And it leaves no trace of its passage now
But the stain on his lip, and the flush on his
brow.

They filled to the brim that helm of gold,
And the Giant hath drained its ample hold;
Through his dark jaws the purple ocean
Ran with a swift and restless motion,

And the roar that heralded on its track
Seemed like the burst of a cataract.
Twice for each was the fountain filled-
Twice by each was the red flood swilled;
The Monk is as straight as a poplar tree,—
Gog is as giddy as Gog may be !

"Now try we a buffet!" exclaimed the Knight, And rose collected in his might,

Crossing his arms, and clenching his hand,
And fixing his feet on their firmest stand.
The Giant struck a terrible stroke,
But it lighted on the forest-oak;

And bough and branch of the ancient tree
Shook, as he smote it, wondrously :
His gauntleted hand the Warrior tried;
Full it fell on the Giant's side;

He sank to earth with a hideous shock,
Like the ruin of a crumbling rock;
And that quivering mass was senseless laid
In the pit its sudden fall had made.

That stranger Knight hath gone to the tree To set the trembling Captive free; Thrice hath he smitten with might and main, And burst the lock, and shivered the chain; But the knotty trunk, as the warrior strove, Wrenched from his hand the iron glove, And they saw the gem on his finger's ring, And they bent the knee to England's King.

"Up! up!" he said, "for the sun hath past
The shadows of night are falling fast,
And still the wedding shall be to-day,
And a King shall give the bride away!"

The Abbey-bells are ringing

With a merry, merry tone;
And the happy boors are singing

With a music all their own;

Joy came in the Morning, and fled at Noon;
But he smiles again by the light of the Moon;
That Minstrel-Boy, the young Le Fraile,
Hath wedded the Lily of Nithys-dale!

(ETON, 1821.)

THE TROUBADOUR.

Le Troubadour
Brulant d'amour.

French Ballad

CANTO I.

IN sooth it was a glorious day
For vassal and for lord,

When Coeur de Lion had the sway

In battle and at board.

He was indeed a royal one,

A Prince of Paladins ; Hero of triumph and of tun,

Of noisy fray and noisy fun,

Broad shoulders and broad grin:

You might have looked from east to west,
And then from north to south,
And never found an ampler breast,
Never an ampler mouth,

A softer tone for lady's ear,

A daintier lip for syrup,

Or a ruder grasp for axe and spear,
Or a firmer foot in stirrup.

A ponderous thing was Richard's can,

And so was Richard's boot, And Saracens and liquor ran,

Where'er he set his foot.

So fiddling here, and fighting there,
And murdering time and tune,
With sturdy limb, and listless air,
And gauntleted hand, and jeweled hair,
Half monarch, half buffoon,
He turned away from feast to fray,
From quarreling to quaffing,
So great in prowess and in pranks,
So fierce and funny in the ranks,
That Saladin the Soldan said,
Whene'er that mad-cap Richard led,
Alla! he held his breath for dread,
And burst his sides for laughing!

At court, the humor of a king
Is always voted "quite the thing;"
Morals and cloaks are loose or laced
According to the Sovereign's taste,
And belles and banquets both are drest
Just as his majesty thinks best.
Of course in that delightful age,
When Richard ruled the roast,
Cracking of craniums was the rage,
And beauty was the toast.

Ay all was laugh, and life, and love;
And lips and shrines were kiss'd;
And vows were ventured in the grove,
And lances in the list;

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