A form so witching fair. IV. Once walking thus, at evening tide, 100 It chanced a gliding sail she spied, And, sighing, thought--'The Abbess, there, Perchance, does to her home repair; Her peaceful rule, where Duty, free, Walks hand in hand with Charity; 105 Where oft Devotion's tranced glow Can such a glimpse of heaven bestow, That the enraptured sisters see High vision, and deep mystery; The very form of Hilda fair, 110 Hovering upon the sunny air, And smiling on her votaries' prayer. O! wherefore, to my duller eye, Did still the Saint her form deny! Was it, that, sear'd by sinful scorn, 115 My heart could neither melt nor burn? Or lie my warm affections low, With him, that taught them first to glow? Yet, gentle Abbess, well I knew, To pay thy kindness grateful due, 120 And well could brook the mild command, That ruled thy simple maiden band. How different now! condemn'd to bide My doom from this dark tyrant's pride.-- But Marmion has to learn, ere long, 125 That constant mind, and hate of wrong, Descended to a feeble girl, From Red De Clare, stout Gloster's Earl: Of such a stem, a sapling weak, He ne'er shall bend, although he break. 130 V. 'But see!--what makes this armour here?'-- For in her path there lay Targe, corslet, helm;--she view'd them near.-- 'The breast-plate pierced!--Ay, much I fear, Weak fence wert thou 'gainst foeman's spear, 135 That hath made fatal entrance here, As these dark blood-gouts say.-- Thus Wilton!--Oh! not corslet's ward, Not truth, as diamond pure and hard, Could be thy manly bosom's guard, 140 On yon disastrous day!'-- She raised her eyes in mournful mood,-- WILTON himself before her stood! It might have seem'd his passing ghost, For every youthful grace was lost; 145 And joy unwonted, and surprise, Gave their strange wildness to his eyes.-- Expect not, noble dames and lords, That I can tell such scene in words: What skilful limner e'er would choose 150 To paint the rainbow's varying hues, Unless to mortal it were given To dip his brush in dyes of heaven? Far less can my weak line declare Each changing passion's shade; 155 Brightening to rapture from despair, Sorrow, surprise, and pity there, And joy, with her angelic air, And hope, that paints the future fair, Their varying hues display'd: 160 Each o'er its rival's ground extending, Alternate conquering, shifting, blending, Till all, fatigued, the conflict yield, And mighty Love retains the field, Shortly I tell what then he said, 165 By many a tender word delay'd, And modest blush, and bursting sigh, And question kind, and fond reply:-- VI. De Wilton's History.