University of Virginia Library

2. PART II.—THE NIGHT.

In bugle bed-gown frown'd the night,
Like angry witch with baneful spite;
She scarce allow'd the stars to light
The sandy hills around.
The moon, 't is thought, was fast asleep,
In distant cavern dark and deep,
Where silence doth her vigils keep,
In mystery profound.
The stricken drum announced the hour,
The sentry paced round fosse and tower,
And fearing much a drenching shower,
Around his watch-coat drew:
A sudden sorrow fill'd his mind,
His memory, with hint unkind,
Spoke of past times, and he repined
His coat was now not new.
Ah! little did that watchman dream
Of battle field e'er morning beam,
Of noisy shout and piercing scream,
From virgin beauty fair;
Or he had bow'd his lofty crest,
And wiped his eyes, and smote his breast,
And 'gainst his brow steel gauntlet press'd,
In token of despair.
Now arm in arm, or hand in hand,
Two knights pass'd slowly o'er the strand,
Unarm'd with battle-axe or brand,
Or faulchion broad, or spear:
Anon they stopp'd before the tower,
Where fair Floressa slept in bower,
Far from enchanter's baneful power,
Or haggard wizard drear.
“I know this beauteous virgin rare,
And by yon vaulted arch I swear,
A foot more light, a face more fair,
And 'sooth an eye more bright,
On earth before has never been,
And she yclept the fairy queen
By wilder'd knight or damsel seen,
Would wither in her sight.
Let poet Spenser deftly tell,
Of Britomart and Florimel,
And loudly wild his numbers swell;
In either damsel's praise:
Or e'en let Ariosto rear
A trophy to Marphisa's spear,
Or Tasso crown his virgin dear
With never-fading bays:
For these must bow before her shrine,
And e'en the Amazon divine,
Who tasted Alexander's wine,
And Joan of Arc beside.”
Thus spoke the foremost knight, and strode
In silence o'er the sandy road,
That led toward her blest abode;
The gate flew open wide.