Canto I

Yet once again, ye Muses ! once again
Saddle the Hyppogryf ! and wing my way
Where regions of romance their charms display.
What lovely dreams entrance th' unfetter'd brain ?
Who round my brow the wreath enchanted braids ?
Who from my ravished eye dispels the shades
That veil the wonders of the world of old ?
Now conquering, conquer'd now, in battle bold,
I see the knight's good sword, the Pagans sparkling blades.

In vain the hoary sultan foams : in vain
A wood of threat'ning lances bristles round.
It breathes, the ivory horn with sprightly sound,
And, whirl'd in eddying dance, the giddy train
Spin, till their breath and senses die away.
Triumph ! the Fair is won : why, knight, delay ?
Forward to Rome : for thee th' extended sail
And beck'ning streamer fly before the gale.
Haste! that the holy sire may bless your bridal day!

Oh, may ye not the sweet forbidden fruit
Taste ere the time ! beware the rash delight !
Fair blow consenting gales to speed your flight.
In two fleet days, at rest from vain pursuit,
Ye gain in peace Hesperia's golden ground.
If aught can save, while reeling joys confound,
Save them, true Sherasmin ! — Ah ! hapless souls !
They hear not threat'ning heaven, though thunder rolls.
Can Love so steep the sense in sudden trance profound?

Love downward hurls them to the gulf of wo —
Who shall the fairy wood-god's rage control ?
Lo ! on the billows, arm in arm, they roll !
Yet happy in the hope, that, plung'd below,
Together sinking on each other's breast,
They both at once should die, in death how blest !
Vain dream ! to vengeance Oberon resigned,
Denies the last sad hope that sooths the mind ;
Wo's last sad hope denies, to die, and be at rest.

Ah ! spar'd for keener pangs as yet unknown,
I see you wreck'd upon a stranger land,
Faint, and unfriended, roam the desert strand,
A cave your shelter, and its flinty stone,
Scarce hid with dry half-mould'ring reeds, your bed —
Thin on the leafless hedge wild berries spread,
Your only food — before your vacant eye
No cottage smokes from far, no vessel nigh —
Chance, fortune, nature, join to whelm your heiress head.

Nor yet subsides th' avenger's boundless rage ;
Nor yet has misery reach'd her highest aim :
Distress but nourishes their guilty flame ;
They grieve, yet mutual tears their grief assuage-
But, to be torn asunder, as fell blasts
Drive far apart, while lightnings fire the masts,
Two ships, joint sufferers in the stormy way :
To be extinguish'd, while as yet a ray
Of hope, in secret nurs'd, a feeble twilight casts :

This yet remain'd — thou! once their guardian friend,
Ah ! does the fault of love deserve to feel
Wounds without cure, and pangs no time can heal ?
Alas ! faint swims his eye, the tears descend.
Dread, wretches, dread your doom, when Oberon weeps.
But, whither, Muse ! in charmed vision sweeps
Aloft the wildness of thy eagle flight ?
The world of wonders rushing on thy sight,
In strange mysterious maze th' astonish'd audience steeps.

Come, on this couch recline ; here sink at rest ;
No more exclaim, " I see, I see, from high,
Wonders invisible to mortal eye !"—
But, with calm voice to mortal ear addrest,
Relate what happen'd — lo ! th' impatient throng
Tiptoe with mute attention move along :
How willing, if thy tuneful art deceive,
To aid the charm, and self-delusions weave ! —
Descend ! and from its source draw forth th' eventful song,

The Paladin, whose bold advent'rous deeds
Must sure delight thee, (if, at least, thy mind
Aught of delight in deeds advent'rous find,)
Was bound to Babylon — the high emprise
That bad him forth, to knighthood's fearless eyes
Seem'd desperate in the days of Charlemagne ;
But, in our times, nor glory, love, nor gain
Would youthful knight allure to seek such perilous prize.

" My son," Rome's holy sire, his uncle, said,
(Whose feet in tears our knight, good Christian, steeps,
And for his sins a flood of sorrow weeps,)
While with stretch'd hands on his repentant head,
The reverend father absolution gave— -
" My son, depart in peace ! all perils brave,
" Secure of conquest ! Heaven thy courage bless,
" So thou from Joppa, pledge of high success,
" With pious pilgrim foot approach the holy grave,"

The youth with humble lip his slipper prest,
Obedience vows, and parts without delay.
Hard feat had Charles ordain'd, and long the way :
Nathless the knight, his pious soul at rest,
On God and holy Christopher relies,
And deems all gain'd where glory points the prize.—
Arriv'd at Palestine, on holy land
He seeks the grave with pilgrim staff in hand ;
There feels new courage spring, and faith redoubled rise.

To Babylon he speeds with loosen'd rein,
And, " Comes it, comes it soon," — yet still, I ween,
Rose many a hill, and wilderness between,
And many a pathless wood, and boundless plain,
Hard fate enough ! lone, friendless exile, flung
On lands unconscious of his mother tongue ?
That oft he check'd his course wiih vain delay,
And sought with wandering step his doubtful way,
Unknowing and unknown, wild heathen hordes among.

It chanc'd, one morn, the pathway, dimly seen,
Wound thro' a wood — he speeds thro' storm and rain
To right and left the livelong day amain.
Forc'd ever and anon, wild glens between,
Where intertwisted bush and briar grew,
With slashing blade a toilsome way to hew.
Now on a steep ascent, from side to side,
He sees the circling forest, — far and wide,
As roams his boundless eye, expanding with the view.

The work of nature seem'd enchanted ground.
How fares he in the wilderness (by day
Where scarce the forester had found his way)
While, as he wander'd, darkness low'r'd around.
Now dire distress had reach'd its utmost height ;
No star resplendent on the brow of night
Twinkles with friendly ray the shades among.
Huon alights, and drags his horse along,
Where, at each wilder'd step, thick boughs his forehead smite.

The starless gloom of raven-feather'd night
That wrapt the welkin round, the wood unknown,
And, for the first time heard, the thundering tone
Of lions, that the accustom'd ear affright :
Tones, from the midnight deathlike silence round,
Fearfully echoing, on each side rebound,
As on from rock to rock their horrours roll'd ;
These might have mov'd the stoutest warriour bold,
And hearts unus'd to fear had shuddered at the. sound.

So fares our knight : tho' none from woman sprung
Had e'er beheld his cheek with terrour pale;
The hideous roarings that his ears assail
Shake his stout heart: with sinews loose, unstrung,
His arm and knee drop nerveless : 'gainst his will
Fear stands upon his brow in dew-drops chill :
But, pledg'd to go, no fears his vow withstand —
Onward, his falchion drawn, and horse in hand,
He finds at last a path along the rocky hill.

Not long his step the winding way pursued,
When on his wistful gaze, so him beseems,
The light of distant fire delightful gleams.
His cheek flash'd crimson as the flame he view'd.
Half wild with hope and fear, he rush'd to find
In these lone woods some glimpse of human kind.
And ever and anon, at once the ray
Flash'd on his sight, then sunk at once away,
While rose and fell the path as hill and valley wind.

Sudden the way that led deep rocks among
Sunk in a cavern, from whose pit profound
Sparkled a crackling flame : the stones around,
That o'er the night a wondrous radiance flung,
Were fring'd with bushes, whose rude tangles green
Dangled the mazes of the clefts between :
And as they glitter'd with reflected rays,
Shone like a verdant fire. In mute amaze
Motionless stood the knight amid th' enchanted scene.

At once a voice, that thro' the cavern rung,
" Halt!" thunders forth; straight stands the knight before
One of wild mien, whose mantle, cover'd o'er
With cat-skins coarsely patch'd, loose flapping hung
Down to his hairy shanks : in tangled flow,
His coal-black beard thick wav'd his breast below.
A ponderous branch from giant cedar torn,
Swung, like a mace, upon his shoulder born,
Of pow'r the stoutest beast to level at a blow.

The knight, undaunted at his savage dress,
Club, and rough beard, and all that met his view,
In mother speech, no other speech he knew,
Begins the story of his sad distress.
" What hear I ?" as his voice the woodman hears,
While down his hairy cheek stream joyful tears ;
" Oh, mother tongue ! oh, sweet melodious sound!
" Full sixteen years the sun has journey'd round,
" Nor has thy note, till now, e'er charm'd my longing ears.

" Welcome to Libanon, illustrious knight !
" Though well I ween, no voluntary guest
" You came, night-wanderer, to my dragon nest.
" In peace repose thee, nor my welcome slight;
" And freely take whate'er I have, the cheer
" That Nature for her children caters here ;
" Yet grateful to the taste when hunger wrings ;
" And quaff my wine that in this cellar springs,
" Pure draught that thins the blood, and makes the eyesight clear."

Charm'd by this greeting, where the savage trod,
Our hero follows gaily to the spot,
Lays by his helm and hauberk in the grot,
And stands unarm'd, in form a youthful god.
The woodman, bound in fascinating trance,
Tin ills, as his eyes upon the stranger glance :
While, as he lifts the helmet from his head,
Down his slim shape his hair diffusely spread,
Floats like a stream of gold, and curls in wavy dance.

" How like! how like ! Yes, limb for limb the same;
" Breast, eye, mouth, hair," — ' Like whom ?' Sir Huon says :
" Pardon, young man ! a dream of happier days
" So sweet, yet, ah ! so bitter, o'er me came.
" Ah ! no ! delightful dream ! thou art not true ;
" One moment seen, then vanished from the view —
" Yet, down your back when fell that golden hair,
" From head to foot himself, himself was there :
" His breast alone more broad, your locks of yellower hue.

" Your's is my native speech : ah, not in vain,
" Haply, in you my dearest lord I trace;
" Whom now for sixteen years, in this wild place
" 'Far, far from every friend, I lonely plain.
" Ah ! to survive him was the bitterest blow :
" Alone one sweet reflection sooths my wo :
" I clos'd his eyes ; I laid him on the bier;
" I shed on his fresh grave the farewell tear.
" To see him here in you surpasses mortal show."

" Chance,' Huon says, 'such sports so seeming strange
" Not rarely plays,' — " At least," exclaims his host,
" Chance, here, in what I feel, no part can boast.
" The love I bear you, sir, I dare engage,
" Is truth, plain truth, and no illusion vain.
" Good youth ! to Sherasmin one favour deign !
" Forgive, oh, let me call you by your name!"
" Huon, the son and heir of peer of fame,
' Duke Segewin the Brave, once lord of fair Guyenne,'

Fallen at his feet, he cries, with new delight,
" My heart deceived me not — a thousand times
" Welcome, 'mid houseless rocks and barbarous climes,
" Son of the best, the bravest, worthiest knight ;
" With whom, companion of life's better day,
" In many a pastime wild, and desperate fray,
" I dar'd th' adventures youth alone achieves.
" You leap'd a little child, in hanging sleeves,
" When to the Holy Land we took our votive way.

" Who ever could have thought that once again,
" We, after eighteen years, 'mid deserts hoar,
" Should meet on Libanon's unfriendly shore ?
" Despair not, man of misery and pain!
" Though hope's last glimmer sunk in darkness dies,
" Again her star to light thy path shall rise.
" Forgive! that, wild with joy, my tongue too bold,
" Babbles at will ; but, oh ! 'bove all unfold
" What storm has blown you here, to bless my longing eyes ?"

Now by the old man's side Sir Huon lies
Upon a bank of moss, before the flame ;
And, as he feels, ere long, his wayworn frame
Cheer'd by the warmth, and gayer spirits rise
At every draught, pure welling from the cave,
And honey that the mountain wild-bee gave,
He 'gins with wish'd-for tale his host repay :
Who, more and more, with looks that never stray,
Seems to review his lord new-risen from the grave.

The knight, as youth's ingenuous lips relate,
Somewhat at large unfolds, how rear'd at court,
(For child of princely lineage fit resort,)
His lady-mother, as became his state,
Had train'd him to all deeds that knight beseem :
How swift had vanish'd childhood's lovely dream :
And on his cheek when stole the tender down,
How with proud pomp at Bourdeaux' festal town,
He rightful duke was crown'd, and hail'd with high esteem.

And how with -pleasure's unabated flow,
Chase, tourney, banquet, ever sport and play,
Two years had glided like a summer day :
Till Amory, inexorable foe
Of all his race, with tale of base defame
Had blacken'd at the court his spotless name.
And how, with seeming grace, but poison'd mind,
Charles, to his sire before him ill inclin'd,
Had summon'd him to court, his feudal rights to claim,

Then he related, how his former foe,
The lord of Hoenblat, in evil train
With Scharlot, second son of Charlemagne,
The basest prince that e'er work'd parent wo,
(Who long had lusted for Sir Huon's land,)
Had secretly, with artful malice, plann'd
To slay him on his journey, unprepar'd ;
And how, one morning early, as he far'd
By Montlery's deep wood, in ambush lurk'd their band.

Young Gerhardine, my brother, (he pursu'd,)
Was with us, with his falcon on his fist,
Securely journeying; and when no one wist,
The boy, unwittingly, in joyous mood,
Strays from our pathway, gives his falcon flight,
And follows where he wings the airy height :
The while we steadily our course pursue ;
Nor, as we went, one anxious moment knew,
What time the boy and bird were vanished from our sight.

Sudden, a dreadful shriek of one in pain
Rings in our ears; directed by the sound,
We run, and find extended on the ground
Poor Gerhardine, defac'd with bloody stain.
O'er him a noble page is seen to stand,
Unknown, as it appear'd, of all our band ;
Yet it was Scharlot's self, in that disguise,
In act to pierce the boy before our eyes :
Beside him stands a dwarf, his falcon on his hand.

With wrath incens'd, " Back, ruffian ! back !" I said,
" How has this beardless boy, an unarm'd child,
" How injur'd thee, barbarian ! blood-defil'd ?
" Lift but a finger up against his head,
" This sword shall in thy heart be deeply died — "
' Ha ! is it thou ?' the other fiercely cried —
' I sought thee long; now, long-deferr'd, my rage
' Shall, instant, in thy blood its thirst assuage ;
' Thou, like this boy, shalt fall beneath my footstep dead.

' Know'st thou me not ? — in me behold the son
' Of Dietrich, Ardenne's duke, from whom thy sire,
' (Aye may he burn for this in quenchless fire,)
' Knight, little worth ! by craft and cunning won,
' At open tourney, the contested meed :
' He fled, or I had slain him for the deed :
' The vengeance that he scap'd by coward flight,
' Shall on thy head with tenfold fury light :
' Thy father's crimes are thine, and thou for him shalt bleed,'

He spoke ; and at the word, with deadly aim
Against me, unprepar'd for such mischance,
Suddenly levell'd his impetuous lance.
I, haply, as my adversary came,
Round my left arm my mantle loosely flung,
Parry'd the blow, and swiftly, as he swung,
Struck with my sword's rough hilt so dread a wound,
As instant dash'd him breathless on the ground.
Swift through his foamy lips the spouting lifeblood sprung.

He fell, no more from earth to rise again !
And, to and fro, the woodland shades between,
Horsemen, a numerous troop, at times were seen ;
Base cowards ! to avenge their leader slain
None forward dar'd advance, but hover'd round
At distance, while we clos'd my brother's wound,
And slowly vanish'd from their sight away.
Then on a steed the ghastly corse they lay,
On to the imperial tower in solemn vengeance bound.

Reckless that worse and worse, in desperate plight,
Far'd my repute at court, I gaily go,
Nor from the past adventure augur wo.
We come, and there, with wisdom highly (light,
My uncle, abbot of St. Denys, makes
Our greeting fair — no look suspicion wakes —
And all bespeaks delight and welcome cheer :
When to the banquet as the guests draw near,
Rous'd by the funeral pomp the tower's proud portal shakes.

Veil'd in black crape, twelve pages bear the pall
Up the high castle steps : in dread amaze
All on the spectacle in silence gaze.
Onward the sad procession seeks the hall.
The doors spring wide, twelve spectre shapes appear,
Stain'd with fresh blood th' unsightly coffin rear.
And 'mid the startled guests the body bear.
The king turns pale, fear points their-bristling hair ;
On me Heaven's fiery bolt seem'd flashing from the bier.

Now Amory steps forth, the bloody fold
Lifts from the corse — "There, Caesar! there," he cries,
" Sad sight, alas ! to greet a father's eyes !
" Behold thy son ! and here the fiend behold,
" Foe of thy peace, and traitour to the state.
" Ah, wo is me ! poor prince ! I came too late ;
" Thy Scharlot, in the dark sequester'd dell
" Fell unawares, by stab of murder fell !
" Nor found in open field from knight a knightly fate !"

What tho' base Scharlot o'er and o'er had stain'd
His father's fame, and griev'd him day by day,
Such thoughts at that dread hour no pangs allay.
Still, still his son, his flesh and blood remain'd.
Long motionless he stood — " My son, my son !"
Then loudly shrieks ; and, all with wo o'erdone,
Casts his gray head upon the bloody bier.
Methought 'twas death the father-shriek to hear ;
That time, for Scharlot's life, I glad had life foregone.

" Hear me, hear me, Sire," I cried, " my will is pure,
" Void of offence — the prince conceal'd his race ;
" As Ardenne's son he met me face to face :
" The deeds he dar'd no mortal could endure:
" By heav'n ! no saint, thus urg'd, could rage restrain.
" He struck the innocent boy : with sland'rous stain
" Hurl'd bold defiance on my father's fame.
" On me unwares, in murd'rous mood he came—
" Are there ? — no; none can live, and such disgrace sustain."

" Ha !" at the word the monarch fierce exclaims,
While from the corse he springs with lion rage,
Snatches a sword from an attendant page,
And sudden at my breast the weapon aims.
Had not the court restrained his lifted hand,
I there had died — At once the knightly band
Bristles in arms — at once with lightning ray
Bright gleams of clashing weapons wildly play,
And all intent on death, in threatening posture stand.

With outcries wild the vaulted hall resounds,
The antique windows clatter, rocks the floor ;
" Murder !" from every mouth, and " Treason !" roar.
Babel, again, the wilder'd speech confounds.
They foam, they run, they shake the threatening blade:
Alone the abbot to his sovereign's aid,
Shelter'd from outrage by his holy dress,
All fearless, rushing where the warriours press,
Stays with his breast our swords, by reverend awe delay'd—

" Honour," he cries, " in me the heavenly Sire,
" Whose son I am — in name of Him above,
" Him, whom I serve, the God of peace and love,
" I bid ye peace !" — His air and tone inspire
Awe that had made wild heathen hordes obey.
Sudden the storms of rage their uproar lay :
Calm gentleness subdues each fiery mien ;
Respectful silence smooths the lip serene ;
Each warriour sheathes the sword, and anger dies away.

Then to the king the abbot calmly told
How all befel — divine persuasion crown'd
His holy lip, but, ah ! no favour found.
The father's eyes his son alone behold —
" See," he exclaims, " there bleeding, in his shroud,
" My Scharlot's mangled corse — pronounce, aloud,
" Princes ! pronounce for me the murderer's fate.
" Yes ; in his blood, my soul ! thy vengeance sate— -
" Die, murderer ! feast the kites that round thy carcass crowd."

Then swell'd my heart — " Not here a murderer stands —
" Judges, their proper cause but ill award —
" This plot is Amory's, vile wretch abhorr'd !
" Th' accuser is the traitour — sire ! these hands
" I lift to heaven, at hazard of my head
" Shall in his blood, by righteous vengeance shed,
" Prove him by test of arms, in mortal strife,
" A liar, and a traitour, life for life ;
" Such will he aye remain, till howling mid the dead.

" I, like that lord, of princely lineage sprung,
" Peer of the realm, my birthright here demand;
" Nor can the emperour my claim withstand.
" There lies my glove, in bold defiance flung,
" Touch it, and dare the battle-test abide :
" Then shall th' impartial Judge of heaven decide
" Whom of us twain this murder calls to hell,
" No earthly fear my courage can repel,
" Truth is my shield of proof, and innocence my guide."

Th' assembled princes, as the monarch raves,
Each in my doom his own sad sentence hears;
Again the murmur that assails our ears
Dwells like the stormy roar of rushing waves.
They pray, they urge, they state the law — in vain—
Bent o'er the bloody brow of Scharlot slain,
Mute agony weighs down the father's eyes ;
E'en Hohenblat in vain his suit applies :
Proud man ! he deems me dead, and smiles in high disdain.

" Sire, let this arm his insolence chastise,"
The count exclaims—" where right and duty call,
"No fears the soul of Hohenblat appal."
' Ha I' at the word my glowing spirit cries,
' Mock'st thou ? not always, wretch ! the lightnings sleep.'
" Yes, on thy brow," he says, " my sword shall heap
" Their vengeful flames."— My words, that truth inspires,
Light in the monarch's heart impetuous fires—
" Hence, guards ! the murderer seize, and bound in durance, keep."

Rash word ! again th' indignant hall around
The lightning weapons of the warriours glance ;
Guardians of injur'd knighthood all advance;
The tumult maddens, blades to blades resound.
" Seize him !" again the impetuous king exclaims,
But views (while boundless rage to frenzy flames)
Their swords enring me round in friendly rows,
Half-crush'd, amid the press the abbot goes,
Threatens with dreadful ban, and God th'avenger names.

The king and kingdom on a thread depend —
The aged counsel, on their knees, again
The fiery king implore : they kneel in vain —
In vain proud knighthood's injur'd rights defend:
The more they pray, the monarch raves the more ;
Till that at last duke Naym (oft wont of yore
To guide his sov'reign's wrath-bewilder'd brain)
Whispers the king, then tells the knightly train
The battle-proof was fix'd, and all resistance o'er.

Huon continues his unbroken tale—
At once the uproar, at this single word,
Was silenc'd— no rash voice a plaint preferr'd :
The knights retire, and peace and rule prevail :
Tells — that the emperor, though in heart enrag'd,
The storm half-lowering on his brow assuaged,
And for the battle fix'd the solemn day :
How that each knight array'd him for the fray,
Where his presumptuous foe had triumph sure presag'd.

Arrogant man ! though ceaseless in his breast
Thunder'd th' accusing fiend in dread alarm,
He dar'd confide him in his iron arm,
That still victorious, where the battle prest,
Had shiver'd many a wood of bristly spears—
The man had never felt a sense of fears.
Hazard of life and death, th' adventurous fight
Seem'd sport and pleasure to his giant might —
Vain confidence ! when guilt an arm of iron rears.

Now the decisive day of battle rose;
Th' assembled people round the barriers throng;
Deck'd in resplendent mail I haste along.
Bright on my breast my shield of silver glows ;
A general murmur greets me on my way :
Th' accuser stands impatient of delay-
In proud pavilion that o'erlook'd the ground,
Charles, with his court and barons girt around,
Smil'd favour on my foe, and mark'd me for his prey.

Now flam'd in cloudless heav'n the mid-day sun :
The judges sit; my rival, wild with rage,
Foams, till the signal trumpet bids engage :
The signal trumpet calls — at once we run —
Steed darts on steed — their clashing fronts rebound ;
At once they pant extended on the ground,
And I and Hohenblat from peril freed,
Spring from our saddles, quit th' unruly steed,
And forward, sword in hand, rush fearless of the wound.

No long and laboured picture of our fight
Expect — in fury,, force, and martial deed,
My proud antagonist his foe exceeds —
But mine, superiour to all earthly might,
Mine, innocence — with her my arm to aid,
Strong as my will, my prowess rose display'd.
Long o'er our swords suspended victory hung,
Tho' fresh from many a stream his lifeblood sprung ;
While Huon fought untir'd, nor felt the hostile blade.

The frantick wretch, while many a stream of blood
Smokes from his wounds, and paints his coat of mail,
Raves like the storm, that, thundering down the vale,
Wastes all beneath it with resistless flood.
Blow after blow, and peal on peal alight;
And Huon, prest by his superiour might,
With slow and circling steps awhile recedes :
But, as his foe in vain exertion bleeds,
Wards with reposeless arm, unwearied with the fight.

The other, as he views him pale retire,
Grasps, with both hands, his sword, to crush the foe.
And end at once the battle at a blow —
But the vain stroke of ill-directed ire
Fails of its aim — and as defenceless rage
In guise unmeet the combat to engage
Reels off its guard, kind Heaven young Huon guides,
And near the corslet, where the helm divides,
He strikes— the boaster falls — no more the war to wage.

Faint at his adversary's feet he falls ;
Huon stands o'er him with uplifted steel—
" Unload thy conscience, wretch ! thy crime reveal,
" Confess, ere God thy soul to judgment calls;
" Let truth, if life thou prize, thy cause defend."
Ah ! at that dreadful hour, when near its end
The vital spirit flutter'd in its frame,
His force collecting in one desperate aim,
" Murderer ! take this," he cries, " with me to hell descend !

The desperate stroke, by rage uncertain made,
Aim'd from beneath, as Huon turn'd aside,
Chanc'd with slant blow along his arm to glide.
Ungovernable wrath the youth betray'd—
The knight, regardless that the truth alone
Could from the lip of Hohenblat be known,
That he alone could every rumour clear,
Breath'd by suspicion on the publick ear,
Drives down his throat his sword, and drinks his dying groan.

The unrepentant wretch, in streams of gore,
Gives up the ghost — absolv'd his conqueror stands,
Wash'd in the traitour's blood that stains his hands.
Guiltless he stands the publick eye before ;
The heralds loud his innocence declare,
And universal transport rends the air.
The knights the while his wounds unsightly close,
And stanch the blood that down his armour flows ;
Then to the emperour's throne the youth in triumph bear.

Yet Charles, (for thus the knight's continued tale
The aged dweller of the cavern charms,)
Chai js yet his rancour holds— the test of arms
Sooths not the father's wo — " Can aught avail,
" Can a new murder," stern he cries, " restore
" The life of him, alas ! who is no more ?—
" Did Hohenblat his innocence proclaim ?
" No — let him, reft of honour, wealth, and fame,
" Now forfeit to the crown, be banish'd evermore."

Severe the sentence, and severe the tongue
That spoke the word ; yet all our toil was vain
To sooth the wretched father's frantick brain.
Knights, barons, princes, at his footstool flung,
Kneel, and with humble pray'rs the throne surround.
Their humble pray'rs no gracious answer found.
But when despair the murmuring warriours seiz'd,
Charles broke his sullen silence, half appeas'd —
" Princes ! ye will ; I yield : the knight has pardon found.

" Yet hear the terms ; hear what no earthly power
" Shall ever change !" — He spoke, and wav'd below
His sceptre, bent in anger o'er my brow—
" Yes, thou mayst live — but, instant, from this hour
" Away : in exile rove far nations o'er :
" Thy foot accurs'd shall tread this soil no more,
" Till thou, in due obedience to my will,
" Shalt, point by point, the word I speak fulfil ;
" Thou diest, if, this unwrought, thou touch thy native shore.

" Go hence to Bagdad : in high festal day,
" At his round table when the caliph, plac'd
" In stately pomp with splendid emirs grac'd,
" Enjoys the banquet, rang'd in proud array,
" Slay him who lies the monarch's left beside.
" Dash from his headless trunk the purple tide :
" Then to the right draw near, with courtly grace
" The beauteous heiress of his throne embrace ;
" And thrice with publick kiss salute her as thy bride.

" And while the caliph, at the monstrous scene,
" Such as before ne'er shock'd a caliph's eyes,
" Stares at thy confidence in mute surprise,
" Then, as the Easterns wont, with lowly mien
" Fall on the earth before his golden throne,
" And gain (a trifle, proof of love alone)
" That it may please him, gift of friend to friend.
" Four of his grinders at my bidding send,
" And of his beard a lock with silver hair o'ergrown.

" Away, and ere with free and full success,
" According to my pleasure, plainly heard,
" Thou hast fulfill'd my order, word for word,
" Thou diest at thy return — expect no less —
" As for the rest, accept our royal grace." —
He spoke ; amazement chain'd us to the place :
Avails it not our feelings to relate :
Such royal grace, we knew, was deadly hate ;
We felt like men condemn'd, death star'd us in the face.

Mid the deep hall a sullen murmur rose —
" Ay, by St. George," cries one, (a sturdy blade,
Who at Sir Tristan's course had oft essay'd
His doughty arm, and fell'd a host of foes,)
" No light adventure shakes my soul with dread ;
" I set, whoe'er defies me, head for head ;
" But the strange feat that Caesar has ordain'd,
" Sir Gawain's matchless arm had ne'er maintain'd :
"Sir Gawain's self had fail'd; brave knight! mid perils bred."

Why speak I more ? the terms his wish declare :
'Twas clear the emperour thirsted for my blood.
Yet Huon undismay'd before him stood.
Whatever the cause, rage, haughtiness, despair,
Boldly, with frantick answer, I replied,
" Sire ! by the terms I willingly abide —
" A Frank I am ; impossible, or not,
" I dare th' adventure freely on the spot —
" Witness my word, ye knights! let weal or wo betide !

" And now, by virtue of this promise bound,
" Good Sherasmin ! I go where honour calls,
" Come weal or wo, to Bagdad's hostile walls.
" Wilt thou direct me from this rocky ground
" Thither the nearest way, I thank thee, friend ;
" If not, I go where'er the saints may send."
" Thou call'st me from the grave !' the woodman cried,
Down his gray beard as rush'd the joyous tide,
" Thou fill'st me with new life— I, I thy guide, attend.

' Freely I swear, and here to pledge ray word,
' My old, yet nervous arm I lift on high,
' With thee, whate'er befall, to live and die ;
' Thee, son and heir of him, my honour'd lord.
' Danger awaits the work by Charles decreed,
' Yet glory crowns alone the dangerous deed —
' Go, mid the walls of Bagdad ; by thy side
' There Sherasmin is found a faithful guide ;
' For thee the latest drop that dies these veins shall bleed,'

Touch'd by his zeal, and unexampled truth,
Young Huon falls upon his neck and weeps —
Then laid on straw they rest : our hero sleeps
As on a bed of down in happier youth,
The day awakes ; and straight from sound repose,
Fresh as the morn, our warriour gaily rose ;
Buckles his armour on : while seen to stand
With knapsack on his shoulder, club in hand,
Cheerily smiles his host, and forth tow'rds Bagdad goes.