 | Young Arthur |  |
To paint the passions on each face display'd,
When ceas'd the minstrel, awful in his ire,
Pert were and prolix; when the charge was made,
He sunk exhausted,—with an eye of fire,
Up started Brandon, and up started all;
Awe and mute wonder reign'd throughout the hall;
Ernest first mov'd, and, rushing from his seat,
All view him kneeling at old Beauclerc's feet,—
Beauclerc it was—by cordial balm restor'd,
Upheld by Ernest, he approach'd the board:
Had spoke, but Brandon wav'd imperious hand,
And seated wonder waited his command;
Silence he broke—“The retributive hour
Is come; I bow obedient to it's pow'r;
Nor fear, bold man, the vengeance I could wreak,
Humbled, I pardon; penitent, I speak;
Speak, with a bursting heart, the awful truth,
That guilt and grief, companions of my youth,
Clung to my manhood; harrow me in age,
And threaten havoc to my life's last stage;
But hear, ye honour'd partners of my board,
Hear my plain tale, and equity afford:”
When ceas'd the minstrel, awful in his ire,
Pert were and prolix; when the charge was made,
He sunk exhausted,—with an eye of fire,
Up started Brandon, and up started all;
Awe and mute wonder reign'd throughout the hall;
Ernest first mov'd, and, rushing from his seat,
All view him kneeling at old Beauclerc's feet,—
Beauclerc it was—by cordial balm restor'd,
Upheld by Ernest, he approach'd the board:
Had spoke, but Brandon wav'd imperious hand,
And seated wonder waited his command;
Silence he broke—“The retributive hour
Is come; I bow obedient to it's pow'r;
310
Humbled, I pardon; penitent, I speak;
Speak, with a bursting heart, the awful truth,
That guilt and grief, companions of my youth,
Clung to my manhood; harrow me in age,
And threaten havoc to my life's last stage;
But hear, ye honour'd partners of my board,
Hear my plain tale, and equity afford:”
| Young Arthur | |