And from his deadliest foeman's door Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er. "The knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James ; Lord of a barren heritage, Which his brave sires, from age to age, By their good swords had held with toil ; And he, God wot, was forced to stand XXX. Fain would the Knight in turn require The name and state of Ellen's sire; 6 Ellen, though more her looks displayed Turned all inquiry light away. “ Wierd women we! by dale and down, XXXI. Song. Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest! thy warfare o’er, Dream of fighting fields no more; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, No rude sound shall reach thine ear, Armour's clang, or war-steed champing, Trump nor pibroch summon here Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. t Yet the lark's shrill fife may come At the day-break from the fallow, And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near, Guards nor warders challenge here, Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, Shouting clans or squadrons stamping. XXXII. To She paused—then, blushing, led the lay The cadence of the flowing song, Till to her lips in measured frame The minstrel verse spontaneous came. Song continued. Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, While our slumbrous spells assail ye, Dream not with the rising sun, Bugles here shall sound reveillie. Sleep! the deer is in his den ; Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying; Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen, How thy gallant steed lay dying. Here no bugles sound reveillie. XXXIII. The hall was cleared-the stranger's bed |