XI.

Before her spread the azure Grecian seas,
The city's towers and temples rise around,
And columned halls are blent with arching trees,
Where sages musing pace the sacred ground.

XII.

And there with look as silver pure and bright,
And calm, and clear, like some deep ocean bay,
Her cherished teacher walks in evening light,
With steps that mark his soul's unruffled sway.

XIII.

With him she lives, and meditates, and loves,
And learns how nature, building up the mind,
Prepares the faith which wisdom best approves,

VI.

Young is she, scarcely passed from childhood's years,
With grave soft face, where thoughts and smiles may play,
And unalarmed by guilty aims or fears,
Serene as meadow-flowers may meet the day.

VII.

No guilty pang she knows, though many a dread
Hangs threatening o'er her in the conscious air,
And 'mid the beams from that bright casement shed,
A twinkling crown foreshows a near despair.

VIII.

But Jane regards not auguries of ill,
Nor ev'n that sovran vision draws her eyes,

I.

There is an old and costly room of state,
With roof deep-groined of blazoned shields and flowers,
And arras rich with gold and silver weight,
Hangs round the walls, and shows green forest bowers.

II.

And figures blent of giant, dwarf, and knight,
Of lady fair, and palfrey, hawk and hound,
Amid those leafy cells the gaze invite,
Invite yet mock, for leaves half close them round.

III.

In order set are works of regal price,
Quaint carven chair and table, chest and lute;
And web of scarlet, black, and gold device,

BARDS .

V. i.

Set is the Sun of northern climes,
The doughty Hengest is no more; —
Gone is the King, with Horsa, to that shore
Where sleep the brave in battle slain;
And where, in everlasting halls,
They taste the well-earnt meed

ROWENA .

IV. i.

The mourner Night stalks up the East apace
And flings her black weeds o'er the fear-full skies:
But list! what hollow ghostly groans arise;
And see! what ominous portents glare
Athro' the lurid Air!

CHORUS OF BARDS .

III. I.

Behold the brassey-bristling foes advance
Grasp the firm Shield and shake the thirsty Lance!
Front answering front the breathing Battles stand
Eye meeting eye, and hand high threatening hand.

III. ii.

Hark! the sticken helmets ring
Hark! the holbards shivering sing:
The bloody-work is well begun,
Round the purple torrents run.

FIRST BARD .

II. i

Where yon tall Beoms becrown the mountain-clough
And fling their big boughs to the denns below,
On the loose ridge of shivering rocks reclin'd,
Her streaming tresses sport for every wind,
With Eyes of Sorrow fair Rowena lies
And for her dear-worth Sire heaves her heart-cutting sighs.
She asks her Country's Gods bestow
The Victory once themselves did know;

II. ii.

O'er him Tuisco wave thy guardian wand!

CHORUS OF BARDS .

I. i.

R OUSE to Fight, to Conquest rouse!
Your Seaxes grasp, and hided Shields,
The glistering Bill, the Cras-bow strong:
Rouse to Fight, to Conquest rouse!
The Meed of Triumph waits your Brows;
To Arms! the triple Chieftains call, to Arms, to Arms!

I. ii.

While each his dirsty Weapon wields

XXV.

" The praise thou speakest, " Guthrum said,
" With sweetness fills mine ear;
For Alfred swift before me fled,
And left me monarch here.
The royal coward never dared
Beneath mine eye to stand.
Oh, would that now this feast he shared,
And saw me rule his land! "

XXVI.

Then stern the minstrel rose, and spake,
And gazed upon the King, —
" Not now the golden cup I take,
Nor more to thee I sing.
Another day, a happier hour,
Shall bring me here again,
The cup shall stay in Guthrum's power

XXII.

Loud rang the harp, the minstrel's eye
Rolled fiercely round the throng;
It seemed two crashing hosts were nigh,
Whose shock aroused the song,
A golden cup King Guthrum gave
To him who strongly played;
And said, " I won it from the slave
Who once o'er England swayed. "

XXIII.

King Guthrum cried, " 'Twas Alfred's own;
Thy song befits the brave:
The King who cannot guard his throne
Nor wine nor song shall have. "
The minstrel took the goblet bright,
And said, " I drink the wine