And here their wondering host hath interposed "Whate'er there be between you undisclosed, "This is no time nor fitting place to mar "The mirthful meeting with a wordy war. "If thou, Sir Ezzelin, hast ought to show "Which it befits Count Lara's ear to know, "To-morrow, here, or elsewhere, as may best "Beseem your mutual judgment, speak the rest; 470 "I pledge myself for thee, as not unknown, "Though like Count Lara now returned alone "From other lands, almost a stranger grown; "And if from Lara's blood and gentle birth "I augur right of courage and of worth, "He will not that untainted line belie,

"Nor aught that knighthood may accord, deny."

"To-morrow be it," Ezzelia replied,

480

“And here our several worth and truth be tried; “I gage my life, my falchion to attest "My words, so may I mingle with the blest!" What answers Lara? to its centre shrunk His soul, in deep abstraction sudden sunk; The words of many, and the eyes of all.. That there were gathered, seemed on him to fall; But his were silent, his appcared to stray

In far forgetfulness away away

Alas! that heedlessness of all around

Bespoke remembrance only too profound.

XXIV.

"Tomorrow!"

word

ay, tomorrow! "further

490

Than those repeated none from Lara heard;
Upon his brow no outward passion spoke,
From his large eye no flashing anger broke;
Yet there was something fixed in that low tone,
Which showed resolve, determined, though un-

known.

He scized his cloak his head he slightly bowed, And passing Ezzelin, he left the crowd;

And, as he passed him, smiling met the frown With which that chieftain's brow would bear him down:

It was nor smile of mirth, nor struggling pride 500
That curbs to scorn the wrath it cannot hide;
But that of one in his own heart secure

Of all that he would do, or could endure.
Could this mean peace? the calmness of the good?
Or guilt grown old in desperate hardihood?
Alas! too like in confidence arc each,

For man to trust to mortal look or speech;
From deeds, and deeds alone, may he discern
Truths which it wrings the unpractised heart to

learn.

XXV.

And Lara called his page, and went his way- 510
Well could that stripling word or sign obey:
His only follower from those climes afar,
Where the soul glows beneath a brighter star;
For Lara left the shore from whence he sprung,
In duty patient, and sedate though young;
Silent as him he served, his faith appears
Above his station, and beyond his years.

Though not unknown the tongue of Lara's land,
In such from his he rarely heard command;
But flect his step, and clear his tones would

come,

520

When Lara's lip breathed forth the words of home: Those accents as his native mountains dear, Awake their absent echoes in his ear,

Friends', kindreds', parents', wonted voice recall, Now lost, abjured, for one his friend, his all: For him earth now disclosed no other guide; What marvel then he rarely left his side?

XXVI.

Light was his form, and darkly delicate

That brow whereon his native sun had sate,
But had not marred, though in his beams he

All the heart's hue in that delighted glow;
But 'twas a hectic tint of secret care

That for a burning moment fevered there;
And the wild sparkle of his eye seemed caught
From high, and lightened with electric thought,
Though its black orb those long low lashes fringe,
Had tempered with a melancholy tinge;

Yet less of sorrow than of pride was there, 540
Or if 'twere grief, a grief that none should share:
And pleased not him the sports that please his age,
The tricks of youth, the frolics of the page,
For hours on Lara he would fix his glance,
As all-forgotten in that watchful trance;
And from his chief withdrawn, he wandered lone,
Brief were his answers, and his questions none;
His walk the wood, his sport some foreign book;

His resting-place the bank that curbs the brook: He seemed, like him he served, to live apart 550 From all that lures the eye, and fills the heart; To know no brotherhood, and take from earth No gift beyond that bitter boon our birth.

XXVII.

If aught he loved, 'twas Lara; but was shown
His faith in reverence and in deeds alone;
In mute attention; and his care, which guessed
Each wish, fulfilled it ere the tongue expressed.
Still there was haughtiness in all he did,

A spirit deep that brooked not to be chid;
His zeal, though more than that of servile hands, 550
In act alone obeys, his air commands;

As if 'twas Lara's less than his desire

That thus he served, but surely not for hire.
Slight were the tasks enjoined him by his lord,
To hold the stirrup, or to bear the sword;
To tune his lute, or if he willed it more,
On tomes of other times and tongues to pore;
But ne'er to mingle with the menial train,
To whom he showed nor deference nor disdain,
But that well-worn reserve which proved he

knew

570