Canto II

Thus go the noble pair — and blithe and gay,
Journey by sunshine, and the starry light,
Three days down Libanon's romantick height.
And when the fervour of meridian day
Strikes on their heads, they seek some shadowy lair
Where groves of ancient cedars cool the air ;
While sweet around from silver throats are heard
Melodious songs of many a beauteous bird,
That pecks with wanton bill the traveller's scatter'd fare.

'Twas the fourth morn, when near them on a hill
A little troop of horsemen they descried —
" These," (to Sir Huon says his trusty guide,)
" These are wild Arabs : and to speak my will,
" To turn a little from their course were best;
" I know the Arab for a scurvy guest."
" Ha! friend — what think'st thou then?' says Segewin's son,
" Was ever known a Frank his foe to shun ?
" Right onward lies our path, tho' hostile hordes infest,"

Magnetically drawn by Huon's helm,
That, by the sunshine gilt, all radiance gleam'd,
And like a ruby or carbuncle beam'd,
The roamers of the solitary realm,
With sword in hand, with arrow, and with bow,
Fierce as a tempest seek the vale below.
One horseman, one on foot, before their sight,
Already seem their prey, too few to fight —
Vain men ! they little thought how dread each puissant foe!

The Paladin, protected by his shield,
Dashes among them, and with lightning-speed
Strikes their bold chieftain from his fiery steed :
Breathless he falls — his blood overflows the field.
Rous'd to wild vengeance for their leader slain,
Against his conqueror rush the embodied train,
And fiercely hack and thrust with sword and spear ;
But Sherasmin, keen guardian, watches near —
Prone at his club's first swing a boaster bites the plain.

And mid the bowmen our unwearied knight
Such havock makes, so swiftly wings the wound,
A second and a third soon strew the ground.
At each new blow that thins th' unequal fight,
Here rolls a head, an arm there freshly bleeds,
Grasping the sword— nor less decisive deeds
Ensue, where Sherasmin his cedar plies —
To Mahom loud each cursing heathen cries ;
Aghast the cowards fly, and spur their foamy steeds.

With bloody wreck, and many a sever'd limb
Of man and horse, that o'er each other swarm'd,
The field of death was horribly deform'd :
And when our squire, equipt in gallant trim,
With palfrey and with sword, the spoils of fight,
Comes forth, Sir Huon speeds his eagle flight ;
And mid the mazy vales confus'dly strays,
That at the mountain's foot in various ways
Stretch'd winding to and fro before his wilder'd sight.

It was a fertile and well-cultur'd glade,
Gay with the maze of many a silver rill,
That danc'd in sparkling currents down the hill ;
Whiten'd with flocks, and meads in bloom array'd ;
And many a hut, beneath the palmy wood
Of the brown dwellers of the valley stood.
Poor swains ! that gaily work ! in want how blest !
And, when in noontide shade they, weary, rest,
Beckon the pilgrim lorn to share their pastoral food.

Here with the mid-day heat our knight opprest,
Begs from some shepherd-wife her simple fare ;
With sidelong glance the peasants scarcely dare
Peep at the stranger-man in iron drest ;
But soon his lovely mien and friendly tone
Gain all their hearts, and gradual bolder grown,
The smiling children with his ringlets play,
While the brave man, himself as blithe as they,
Disports once more a child, by childish pleasure won.

How blest ! he thinks, mid these lone huts to dwell !
Vain wish ! him far away his fortune turns.
The evening gleams — his soul at parting yearns
To bid the haunts of happiness farewell —
Yet he must go, however loth, at last :
So to his host his purse Sir Huon cast ;
But the blest race nor gold nor silver knew ;
No hope of recompense their kindness drew—
The knight takes back his pelf, and, sighing, onward past.

Now, on they journey till the daylight dies,
And slowly sinks to evening glimmer gray ;
Before their course a gloomy forest lay —
" Friend," to his faithful guide Sir Huon cries,
" I burn, the deed undone, I burn like fire :
" The nearest way to Bagdad I require —
" And such thy promise — years, methinks, are lost
" Since here I wander from my haven tost."
' Sir, thro' that wood it leads, but back, in haste retire!

' Tempt not that dangerous path— Sir knight, 'tis said
' That none who enter e'er return again !
' You smile, and deem, I see, my caution vain ;
' Yet, trust me, sir, beneath that haunted shade
' A tiny wicked goblin holds his court ;
' There foxes, harts, and deer alone resort,
' Men, once as good as we — in form the same—
' Heaven knows in what wild skin our human frame
' Shall be e'er dawn array'd, to make the demon sport

" Leads but amid that wood," says Segewin's son,
" Right on to Babylon the nearest way,
" Nor ghost nor goblin shall my step delay !" —
" Hear me, nor thus forewarn'd on danger run —
' Sir ! on my knees I pray ! no coward calls —
' Your danger, more than mine, my soul appals —
' Against this demon force nor flight prevail —
' Pass some few days — 'tis done — you Bagdad hail —
' And, ha ! whene'er you come, too soon you reach those walls,'

" Since thus thy fears alarm thee," says the knight,
" Remain ; I enter — fix'd as fate my will." —
' Not that — though death, indeed, is bitter ill !
' Better to die, than with disloyal flight
' Desert one's lord — that fellow base I hold ! —
' Lead on ; I follow, free and uncontroll'd.
' Heaven and the Holy Virgin be our guides !'
" Come," Huon says, and pale as death he rides;
The while unwonted awe unmans his follower bold.

Now as o'er all the veil of twilight hung,
While slow they wind the haunted shades between,
A herd of harts and hinds at once are seen,
That in full course before their pathway sprung.
Their ceaseless groans, like warnings, strike the ear,
And their large eyes o'erflow with many a tear.
(So Sherasmin beneath th' uncertain light
Will fain remark) and, sure, that piteous sight
Seems to proclaim, " Oh, fly ! haste, haste ! your fate draws near !"

" Now, do you mark ?" he whispers to the youth,
" Never again my caution turn to joke;
" You see it, word for word, the thing I spoke —
" These beasts you now behold, for certain truth,
" These beasts, that snort in pity of our wo,
" Are men, I say — and if you further go,
" Trust me, the goblin lights upon our head !
" Oh, do not, then, by obstinacy led,
" In spite of good advice, provoke that potent foe !"

' How, friend !' our hero cries — ' my fix'd design
' Spurs me to Bagdad, from the caliph there
' To beg four grinders, and a lock of hair
' Pluck'd from his beard ; and will'st thou, friend of mine,
' That I should palter from uncertain fear ?
' Thy wits are lost to counsel such career;
' Who knows, perchance the goblin is my friend ;
' And, sure, these beasts no mighty ill intend —
' See ! how they all are fled, when once we venture near !'

He says ; and springs at once among the herd;
They vanish in a wink, like yielding air.
Onward Sir Huon and his leader fare,
In silence undisturb'd, nor whisper word.
The day was sunk : and night, advancing, throws.
From nodding poppies dews of soft repose ;
In sweet forgetfulness all stilly slept ;
Along the wood no nightly murmur crept,
All noiseless as the dead whom churchyard graves enclose.

The squire no longer can refrain—" Sir knight,
" If chance I draw you from some vision gay,
" Forgive me ! but my weakness must have way —
" No— I deny it not — at dead of night
" It ever was my mood, from childish year,
" To prattle : all is hush'd in silence here,
" As if great Pan were dead. The iron sound
" Of our good steeds rings echoing from the ground,
" Or as he blindly works the mole would strike the ear.

" You think I fright myself — not so I ween —
" Yet, without boasting, sir, (for, after all,
" Whate'er we have, mere gifts of heav'n I call,
" And many live who oft the deed have seen,)
" Set man to man, dash sword, and clatter shield,
" And hack and thrust, in tourney and in field :
" Let two or three 'gainst five or six contend,
" I take my part, nor fear how all shall end ;
" There man can trust his arm, and front his foe reveal'd.

" Has my foe flesh and blood, I nothing dread :
" I am his man: but this I freely own,
" To go at midnight in a church alone,
" It lifts the hat a little from my head.
" Grant that my mien should chance to discompose
" The hag of night that cross my pathway goes,
" Ah ! what avails sharp sword and iron arm
" Against the wicked goblin's whisper'd charm,
" While on my shoulders rains a storm of viewless blows ?

" Grant, too, as many an instance makes it clear,
" That from his body I his noddle hew ;
" Now, while it bleeding rolls before my view,
" Perch'd on the stump two heads for one appear ;
" And oft th' impatient body in full flight
" Pursues the head, and ere it spins from sight,
" Pop, puts it on again, quite safe and sound,
" As if it were a hat just blown to ground ;
" Ah ! how can earthly man with such chimera's fight ?

" True, known to all, when cocks at dayspring crow,.
" Then all the goblery, at noon of night
" Who creep in darkness, demon, elf, or spright
" Soon as they hear his warning trumpet, go,
" As if a storm had blown them all away;
" But the strange spright that here delights to play
" His woodland pranks, unlike their race, methinks,
" But like mere mortal, lives, and eats, and drinks,
" And open court maintains, and walks at open day."

' To screw my fancy to its utmost height,
' Friend, thou hast done thy best,' says Segewin's son ;
' Of ghosts and goblins that the daylight shun
' They lie, and prate such wonders, wrong or right,
( That none, if laymen doubt, our doubts can blame.
' Once to our court a learned scholar came,
' Who swore 'twas all a mummery and deceit,
' That each ghost-seer was a fool or cheat ;
' A manichaean vile our chaplain call'd the same.

' Oft they disputed o'er a flask of wine,
' And when the last deep glass confus'd their brain,
' They mouth'd such Latin, in so learn'd a strain,
' That we were forc'd the converse to decline.
' Then, oft I thought, man, jabber as he will,
' How learn'd soe'er, yet plain experience still
' Must tutor him — he knows but what he knows —
' Ah ! that some ghost would graciously disclose
' The strange mysterious scenes that man with wonder fill !'

Meanwhile the wand'ring travellers onward go
Unwares within the circuit of a wood,
Whose mazy windings, at each step renew'd,
In many a serpent-fold, twin'd to and fro,
So that our pair to lose themselves were fain.
The moon full-orb'd now gain'd th' ethereal plain,
And as her beams through wavy branches play'd,
The twinkling fairy-dance of light and shade
Confus'd their wilder'd eyes that sought the path in vain.

" Sir," Sherasmin observes, " amid the maze
" Of this deep labyrinth, perplexing art,
" To puzzle wanderers, well has play'd her part.
" The only chance to scape these crooked ways
" Is, by good luck, to follow — one's own nose."
This counsel (wiser than learn'd wights suppose)
Ere long conducts them to that middle space
Where all the walks that wind from place to place,
At once with circling rays a central star enclose.

And while they gaz'd around in mute despair,
Mid the wild woods a distant castle gleams
As woven from the evening's rosy beams.
It lifts itself, and glitters in the air.
In Huon's eye delight and terrour stole,
In doubt, if truth or fancy charm his soul.
Breathless he floats, as drawn by magick hand,
And sees the castle's golden gates expand,
And forth a silver car, drawn on by leopards, roll.

A boy more beauteous than the god of love
In smiling Cytherea's soft embrace,
Sat in the silver car with heav'nly grace,
And held the silken reins, and onward drove—
" Fly!" Sherasminexclaims— "becomes!— we're dead!"
And seiz'd Sir Huon's steed, and swiftly fled.
" You're lost, for ever lost, if you delay !" —
' How fair he is !' cries Huon — " Fair ! away !
" A thousand times more fair, a thousand times more dread !

" Oh, fly, sir ! or your life's not worth a song !"—
Sir Huon strives, indeed, but strives in vain;
The old man speeds in fullest flight amain,
And after him drags Huon's horse along:
O'er stock and stone, thro' bush and brake they race,
Nor hedge nor ditch impedes their desperate pace :
Nor ceas'd the wight to scamper, fear-pursu'd,
Till, clear from out the compass of the wood,
They find themselves at last amid an open

A tempest, wing'd with lightning, storm, and rain,
O'ertakes our pair : around them midnight throws
Darkness that hides the world : it peals, cracks, blows,
As if the uprooted globe would split in twain :
The elements in wild confusion flung,
Each warr'd with each, as fierce from chaos sprung.
Yet heard from time to time amid the storm,
The gentle whisper of th' aerial form
Breath'd forth a lovely tone that died the gales among —

" Why dost thou fly ? thy happiness thou fly'st !
" Come back, come, Huon! dare in me confide —
" Hear me ! to happiness thy path I guide !" —
' If thou delay'st a moment, sir, thou dy'st !
' Away ! away ! your finger in your ear !
' He means no good — 'tis death his voice to hear !'
Onward, through thick and thin, they dash again,
Beat by the blast, and flooded by the rain —
When lo ! a cloister wall impedes their rash career.

A new adventure. — On that day befalls
The yearly feast in honour of the name
Of holy Agatha, most gracious dame,
The guardian of these girl-confining walls :
And there, not distant far, a convent stood
Of youths, St. Anthony's high-pamper'd brood.
That eve the cloister race their choirs had join'd,
And both a common pilgrimage design'd,
As nun and monk befits in social neighbourhood.

Back they return'd, and near the cloister moat,
On as they wind, in order, pair by pair,
The rattling tempest thunders from the air;
Cross, standards, scapularies, wildly float,
Sport of the blasts ; and through each folded veil
In torrents stream the rain and driving hail ;
All ranks and orders in confusion lost,
Mingle in comick mood, diversely tost,
And scamper here and there, as wind and rain assail.

There, tuck'd up to the knee, a dainty nun
Wades through the brown morass : a brother here
Slips as he speeds, and thrown, sans grace or fear,
Amid the sisters that before him run,
Gripes, by her spindle shanks, some reverend dame.
Now, when the tempest lull'd, with languid frame,
Tir'd, out of breath, the mud-bespatter'd train,
Sous'd head and foot, assemble once again,
And to the cloister-court in crowds tumultuous came.

Here, as they pant together, monks and nuns,
Through the throng'd convent gate that open stood?
Mid the confusion of the cloister brood,
Pale Sherasmin with headlong fury runs :
That holy ground, like heaven he vainly deems,
And safe mid guardian saints himself esteems.
Soon Huon comes, and while with courtly grace
The knight permission begs, and checks his pace,
Swift as a meteor darts,- the dwarf amid them gleams.

At once the storm is fled, serenely mild
Heav'n smiles around, bright rays the sky adorn,
While beauteous as an angel newly born
Beams in the roseate dayspring, glow'd the child.
A lily stalk his graceful limbs sustain'd,
Round his smooth neck an ivory horn was chained.
Yet lovely as he look'd, on all around
Strange horrour stole, for stern the fairy frown'd,
And o'er each sadden'd charm a sullen anger reign'd.

He to his rosy lip the horn applies,
And breathes enchanting tones of fairy sound :
At once old Sherasmin in giddy round
Reels without stop — away the spinner flies,
Seizes a hoary nun without a tooth,
"Who dies to dance, as if the blood of youth
Boil'd in her veins : the old man deftly springs,
Bounds like a buck, while every caper flings
Her veil and gown in air, that all laugh loud forsooth.

Cloister and convent burn with equal rage,
Nor hoary hairs, nor rank the dance withstand :
Each sinner takes a sister by the hand,
And in the gay contention all engage.
Not soon such ballets shall be seen again :
No rules or discipline the choir restrain:
No tipsy fawn so bounds in wanton dance ;
Huon unmov'd beholds the reeling trance,
While laughter shakes his breast to see the giddy train.

The spright draws near : his tuneful accents low
Enchant the youth — he speaks with earnest mien —
" Why fly'st thou ? why ? O Huon of Guyenne ?
" How ! art thou mute ? by heav'n, whose pow'r I know,
" Oh, answer me!" — Our hero, thus addrest,
Feels new-born courage on his soul imprest —
' Speak, thou ! what wilt thou with me ?' says the youth —
" Fear nothing — pure thy life — thy soul is truth :
" He who dares front the light is brother to my breast.

" I lov'd thee from thy childhood, and the good
" I destine thee, free gift of special grace,
" I ne'er have shewn to child of Adam's race —
" Thy heart is pure, no baseness taints thy blood—
" Thy ways are straight : where honour, duty, call,
" Thou ask'st not flesh and blood — no fears appal—
" Thou in thyself confid'st when proofs assail :
" So that my favour, knight, can never fail :
" On spotted souls alone my vengeful torments fall.

" Were not this cloister-people rightly blam'd,
" Mere hypocrites ! If conscience, judge within,
" Accus'd them not each day of secret sin,
" Nor self-reproach their specious semblance blam'd,
" They, like thyself, when breath'd the fairy sound,
" Had heard unmov'd, nor frisk'd with answering bound.
" E'en Sherasmin, whose honest eye speaks truth,
" Merits some penance for his tongue, forsooth —
" They dance by force, not choice, and senseless whirl around."

Another whirlwind, as he spoke, begins
More swift to agitate the giddy dance :
Light in the air so springs the ceaseless trance,
So fiercely foots it, and so quickly spins ;
All melt, as snow beneath the thaw-wind flows ;
High bounds the heart, the throbbing bosom glows.
Huon no longer can sustain the view —
Shame such young blood should melt away like dew !
He begs the beauteous dwarf to give the dance repose.

Then at his word the beauteous spirit wave,
His lily wand : the charm dissolves in air ;
St. Anthony's fat wards like statues stare :
And pale, as, newly risen from their graves,
Haste the dishevell'd dames with decent grace
Their veils and robes in order to replace :
But to such capers Sherasmin unus'd
Feels with the ball his whirling brain confus'd,
And thinks his heart will burst, and sinks upon the place —

" Ah !" pants he — " Gracious sir ! I all foretold" —
' Friend Sherasmin !' the spirit cries, ' refrain —
' Hold ! nor incur my chastisement again :
' I know thee for a hardy warriour bold ;
' Yet will thy heart at times thy head outpace :
' Why dare, on others' word, the dwarf debase ?
' Fie ! gray in beard, in judgment still so young!
' Take calmly this reproof, and rein thy tongue —
' But ye, vile race ! away! and mourn your just disgrace !'

Away the cloister sinners slide asham'd:
The dwarf with kindness Sherasmin addrest —
" How ! on thy brow still cloudy wrinkles rest ?
" Still by that scowling eye the spirit blam'd ?
" Yet I forgive : right simple is thy soul ;
" Pure thoughts and honest deeds my rage control—
" Come nearer ! nay, distrust not : fear no guile :
" Have heart in me ; nor dare again revile ;
" Drink, and recruit thy strength — here, drain th' o'erflowing bowl.

" Here, press it to thy lips; be never cloy'd" —
He speaks, and proffers him a bowl of gold :
He, on his legs who scarce himself can hold,
Stares when he sees th' untasted goblet void —
" Still," cries the dwarf, " no trust! still pale of hue!
" Quick ! to thy mouth ! be to thyself but true,
" It will not fail" — the man at length obeys,
But with half-will, reluctant, still delays,
Till foams the Gascon wine that fires his thirsty view.

But when his breathless draught had drain'd the bowl,
He feels, like lightning with forgotten heat
The dancing life-blood in his arteries beat,
And spirits gay reanimate his soul :
Feels the fresh vigour of that youthful year
That led him with his lord in proud career,
Adventurers bold to Salem's holy walls :
Bow'd, at the fairy's foot he loudly calls,
" Now, like a mountain fixt, my faith despises fear !"

With steadfast look the dwarf to Huon turns—
" To me the order is already known,
" That sends thee forth to fall at Babylon,
" 'Tis for thy blood that Charles relentless burns :
" But thou shalt execute his dread command ;
" Thy confidence his malice shall withstand :
" What thou hast well begun thou well shalt end :
" Here Oberon presents himself thy friend ;
" Receive this ivory horn from no ungracious hand.

" Does but its snail-like spiral hollow sing
" A lovely note soft swell'd with gentle breath,
" Though thousand warriours threaten instant death!
" And with advancing weapons round enring;
" Then, as thou late hast seen, in restless dance
" All, all must spin, and every sword and lance
" Fall with the exhausted warriours to the ground.
" But if thou peal it with impatient sound,
" I at thy call appear, more swift than lightning glance.

" If, at that time, my path from thine recede'
" Far as the world, if boundless space between,
" I at thy side am in a moment seen :
" Yet, oh ! reserve that call for utmost need :
" And take this bowl, whose golden round contains
" Pure wine, self-springing from a thousand veins,
" If touch'd by guileless mouth ; but if base lip
" Dare with rash taste the conscious nectar sip,
" 'Tis void, and burns the wretch with guilt-avenging pains !"

The knight with grateful hand each wonder takes,
Pledge of the favour of his fairy-friend :
And when he sees the rays of morn ascend,
And paint the purple clouds with golden flakes,
He asks the way to Bagdad's destined wall —
" Hence !" cries the dwarf, " where fame and honour call:
" And, oh ! may never Oberon behold
" That dreadful hour, when Huon, good and bold,
" May yield to deeds of shame, that now his soul appal !

" Not that thy heart and spirit I mistrust;
" But, ah ! thou art a child of Adam's kind,
" Form'd of soft clay, and to the future blind !
" Woes without end oft spring from transient lust :
" My warning words thy happiness intend ;
" Forget not, youth, the counsel of a friend."
Then with his lily wand he touch'd the knight,
And Huon views, O unexpected sight !
Roll'd from his azure eyes two liquid pearls descend.

And as the grateful youth begins to swear
Eternal truth and duty to the spright,
Sudden the fairy vanishes from sight:
Yet still a lily fragrance fills the air,
Where the lov'd image charm'd his ravish'd eyes.
Mute gaz'd the knight, like one in sweet surprise,
Who seeks, when rous'd from fascinating dreams,
If true the vision that before him gleams,
Or all a nightly shape, that in a moment dies,

Yet, had he doubted more, the bowl of gold,
And ivory horn, that round his neck appeared,
Hung by a golden chain, each doubt had clear'd :
But, above all, the goblet's magick mould,
To Sherasmin, once more to youth restor'd,
Seem'd choicest treasure of the fairy hoard.
In act to hold the stirrup of the knight,
" Yet, yet one draught, to thank the dwarf aright—
" Tis nectar fit," he cries, " for Jove's celestial board !"

Now strengthen'd for their journey, forth they fare,
And over hill and dale, like heroes old,
Still wand'ring on by dangers uncontroll'd,
They pass whole days, and scarce at night repair
Where woodland shades the solitude enclose :
No strange adventures their design oppose —
The knight in spirit gains far Bagdad's tower,
And Sherasmin enjoys each passing hour,
While, by his side, in arms, the son of Segewin goes.