The night’s carousal draws to a close, and at break of day the huntsman’s horn wakes the sleepers to a glorious chase, when Full threescore riders mount with speed, chief among whom, and the competitors for the fair Adela’s hand, are the two knights, Laybourne and Delisle—the latter the long-lost son of Sir Edgar, who has returned from the Crusades, and appears in disguise and under an assumed name, though the old retainers, as they view the stranger knight, know that The long-lost wanderer meets their sight, Whate’er his name be now. The wolf, scared from his covert on Humphrey Head, leads the hunters a long and exciting chase over Kirkhead, past Holker and Newby, and across “the Leven’s brawling flood,” to the Old Man of Coniston. The dogs are again upon the track, and the grisly beast is away through “Easthwaite’s lonely deep,” through woodland, brake, and forest hoar, “through Sawrey’s pass,” and on to the shores of Windermere, where, With one bold plunge, the mere he takes, And, favoured by the wind, The flabbing scent abruptly breaks, And leaves his foes behind. But the “tireless bloodhounds” are once more upon the scent, the rival knights follow in hot pursuit, and Away along the wooded shore The chase betakes him now, Beneath the friendly shade of Tower And craggy Gummerhow. Then turn aside to Witherslack, Where Winster’s waters range, And thence to shingly Eggerslack, And sand-surveying Grange. Then, with the instinct of despair, the brute makes for his old haunt on Humphrey Head, as “evening shades appear.” Reaching a deep chasm in the rock, wolf and hounds rush headlong to their destruction. Laybourne’s horse rears at the “giddy brink,” but the “bold Delisle” rushes madly on, crying— Adela! I’ll win thee now! Or ne’er wend forth again. Delisle and his “Arab white” pursue their headlong course down the rocky gulf— Awhile from side to side it leapt, That steed of mettle true, Then swiftly to destruction swept, Like flashing lightning flew. The shingle in its headlong course, With rattling din gave way; The hazels snap beneath its force, The mountain savins sway. By chance the Lady Adela happens to be riding by at the moment, upon her “palfrey white”— When, lo! the wild wolf bursts in sight, And bares his glistening teeth! Her eyes are closed in mortal dread, And ere a look they steal, The wolf and Arab both lie dead, And scatheless stands Delisle! The Red Cross knight now reveals himself as the lost son of Sir Edgar. The father welcomes the wanderer, and in fulfilment of his promise, bestows “his fair niece for a bride.” The result may be anticipated. The Prior of Cartmel, happening opportunely to be passing, “to drink the Holy Well”—