While Lindesay told his marvel strange, The twilight was so pale, He marked not Marmion’s colour change, While listening to the tale; But, after a suspended pause, The baron spoke:—“Of Nature’s laws So strong I held the force, That never superhuman cause Could e’er control their course; And, three days since, had judged your aim Was but to make your guest your game. But I have seen, since passed the Tweed, What much has changed my sceptic creed, And made me credit aught.” He stayed, And seemed to wish his words unsaid: But, by that strong emotion pressed, Which prompts us to unload our breast, E’en when discovery’s pain, To Lindesay did at length unfold The tale his village host had told, At Gifford, to his train. Nought of the Palmer says he there, And nought of Constance, or of Clare: The thoughts which broke his sleep, he seems To mention but as feverish dreams. XIX. “In vain,” said he, “to rest I spread My burning limbs, and couched my head: Fantastic thoughts returned; And, by their wild dominion led, My heart within me burned. So sore was the delirious goad, I took my steed, and forth I rode, And, as the moon shone bright and cold, Soon reached the camp upon the wold. The southern entrance I passed through, And halted, and my bugle blew. Methought an answer met my ear— Yet was the blast so low and drear, So hollow, and so faintly blown, It might be echo of my own. XX. “Thus judging, for a little space I listened, ere I left the place; But scarce could trust my eyes, Nor yet can think they served me true, When sudden in the ring I view, In form distinct of shape and hue, A mounted champion rise. I’ve fought, Lord-Lion, many a day, In single fight, and mixed affray, And ever, I myself may say, Have borne me as a knight; But when this unexpected foe Seemed starting from the gulf below, I care not though the truth I show, I trembled with affright; And as I placed in rest my spear, My hand so shook for very fear, I scarce could couch it right. XXI.