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A throbbing heart his corslet hid;

Its burnish mock'd the gloom within; Whilst oft a large tear o'er it slid,

Or rested where 'twas beaten in:

'Mid sighs that shook each jointed link
As swelling from his heart they broke,
And steps that made the pavement clink,
Anon, he pray'd--anon, he spoke !

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Oh, give me but to meet the foe

The traitor-foe that wrong'd my trust!—

Oh, let me strike one rightful blow;

For he hath made my hearth accurst !

"We fought through many a field of blood,

And charged the foe to Friendship's name

The toilsome hill and treach'rous flood,

We climb'd and stemm'd, to share the fame !

"My heart, my home, my wealth, my sword, Were his, as mine-as full, as free!—

I had but one sole treasured hoard,
And that I deem'd would sacred be!-

"It was my bride my angel bride,

Whose sweet meek eye could rule my

She was my own, my hope, my pride,

Till, traitor-like, her faith he stole !

soul:

"O Gertrude, still my iven heart

Throbs at thy oft-repeated name :

It cannot from old mem'ries part,

Though they are blister'd o'er with shame!

"For thou didst love me, ere the slave

Poison'd thy truth with practised lies,

And dared unholily to crave

The love that, beaming, lit thine eyes!—

"That love was mine;-and I will wring

From his base soul my ravish'd joy !Ha! dost thou fondly round him cling? Hold off-I would not thee destroy !—"

The sunlight burst, and brightly shed
Within the niche its golden rays—

O'er plume and helm its radiance sped,
And made the knight's drawn weapon blaze;

But something more its ray illumed

Than coat of mail or gleaming blade; For, from his breast, so long entomb`d, A lock of golden hair had stray'd.

It fell, and twined around his feet-
His tears, yet glitt'ring on each braid,
Had deck'd it with a sadness, meet

To soothe the heart its sheen betray'd.

His quiv'ring lip grew blanch'd and still,
His flashing eye was quench'd in tears,
The arm, so fiercely raised to kill,

Grew feeble, as with weight of years,

As on that pledge his gaze was bentThat gentle pledge he'd vow'd to wear, A signal to the battle-spent

That Gertrude's voice had bid him spare.

Again he heard its pleading tones

"Sir Eldred!-Husband!-Oh, forgive!

If sorrow e'er for guilt atones,......
Thy anger will not death outlive ?—

Oh, let thy Gertrude die beneath

The roof her madness left for shame :
Her death, at least, will not bequeath
A stain on thy pure knightly name !"

He turn'd, and saw a kneeling form,

Within the doorway arch'd and high, So wan, and thin, and travel-worn,

It seem'd illusion to his eye.

Far streaming down its bright locks stray'd, Like golden threads that, floating wide, Had caught the sunbeams as they play'd, And wore them like a veiled bride !—

O beauty!-fair, but fatal gift!

If thon canst 'witch in such an hour, When vengeance doth her sword uplift, What limit is there to thy power?—

One bound Sir Eldred brought beside

His suppliant wife, whose form he clasp'd

As tenderly as when, a bride,

In her his heart's first joy he grasp'd.