But brave Lucy's soul forgave him All that wrong so foully done; Him who went not back to save him With the ransom he had won. Yea, and more: "From Duddon's borders Far as Esk, and from the sea To where Hard-knott's ancient warders Sleep," he said, "I give to thee. "Here once more by vale and mountain, On these ramparts side by side, Wells up from my heart a fountain Wastes and dungeons have not dried." And his stately halls he entered, Borne mid cheers and warriors' clang; While a thousand welcomes, centred In one shout of triumph, rang. High the feast and great the story Then that fill'd his ancient halls. Healths to Lucy's House and glory Shook the banners on the walls. And their deep foundations hail'd him With such echoes as were born When his own true breath avail'd him On the faithful Castle-horn. And 'twas joy again to wander On his own fair fields, and chase There the wild wolf, and bring under The strong deer in deadly race. And if sometimes more the forest Won him, museful and alone; 'Twas when secret thoughts were sorest. Turn'd upon the past and gone. But that lone and lordly bosom Sought no mate of high degree; Wooed no fair and beauteous blossom From a noble kindred tree,-- As might have beseem'd, to wear her Throned within a warrior's breast; Evermore to bloom, the sharer Of its love, its life, its rest. So in field, and hall, and tourney, As he lived--upon a day, Wearied with a toilsome journey, Came a guest from far away; Feebly at his gate and humbly Asking, "Dwells Lord Lucy here?" But all question parried dumbly, Till the voice she sought was near. Then indeed the sorrow-laden, Travel-stricken form sunk down; Slow the hatterel forth the maiden Drew; he knew her! 'twas his own! Knew her, as she stood before him On that barren Syrian shore, When from wrath and death she bore him Where no wrong might touch him more. Bear her in! he tells them of her, Tells them all with eyeballs dim. Cannot be but he must love her, For she bears such love to him. She has left her father's mansion, Left her country, faith, and name, Travell'd o'er the sea's expansion, Him to find in life and fame. Was there ever like devotion?-- Is he husband, father; she Who has braved the boundless ocean Will his serving maiden be. No! she shall abide in honour, One for ever at his side; Every gift and grace upon her That beseems a warrior's bride. Then again his days were gladden'd With more joys than e'er of yore. And if thought at times was sadden'd With the memories which it bore, Clasping oft his wife with true love, He would say with whispering breath-- "Love is life indeed! for through love I am here, reprieved from death!"