THE QUEEN'S WAKE. NIGHT THE SECOND. SCARCE fled the dawning's dubious gray, So transient was that dismal day. And noontide wore a twilight hue. The sprites that through the welkin wing, That light and shade alternate bring, That wrap the eve in dusky veil, And weave the morning's purple rail; From pendent clouds of deepest grain, The supper bell at Court had rung; The mass was said, the vesper sung; Beauty had kneeled before the rood; Close from the zealot's searching eyes. Then burst the bugle's lordly peal Along the earth's incumbent veil; Swam on the cloud and lingering shower, To festive hall and lady's bower; Upsprung the maid from her love-dream; The matron from her silken seam; The abbot from his holy shrine; The chiefs and warriors from their wine: For aye the bugle seemed to say, "The Wake's begun! away, away Fast poured they in, all fair and boon, In which the rival bards might sing. |