It ceased. Advancing on the sound, A steep ascent the Wanderer found, And then a turret stair: Nor climb'd he far its steepy round Till fresher blew the air, And next a welcome glimpse was given, That cheer'd him with the light of heaven. At length his toil had won A lofty hall with trophies dress'd, Where, as to greet imperial guest, Four maidens stood, whose crimson vest Was bound with golden zone. Of Europe seem'd the damsels all; The first a nymph of lively Gaul, Whose easy step and laughing eye Her borrow'd air of awe belie; The next a maid of Spain, Dark-eyed, dark-hair'd, sedate, yet bold; White ivory skin and tress of gold, Her shy and bashful comrade told For daughter of Almaine, These maidens bore a royal robe, With crown, with sceptre, and with globe, Emblems of empery; The fourth a space behind them stood, And leant upon a harp, in mood Of minstrel ecstacy. Of merry England she, in dress Like ancient British Druidess: Her hair an azure fillet bound, Her graceful vesture swept the ground, And, in her hand displayed, A crown did that fourth Maiden hold, But unadorned with gems and gold, Of glossy laurel made. At once to brave De Vaux knelt down These foremost maidens three, And proffer'd sceptre, robe, and crown, Liegedom and seignorie, O'er many a region wide and fair, Destined, they said, for Arthur's heir; But homage would he none:-- "Rather," he said, "De Vaux would ride, A Warden of the Border-side, In plate and mail, than, robed in pride, A monarch's empire own; Rather, far rather, would he be, A free-born knight of England free, Than sit on Despot's throne." So pass'd he on, when that fourth Maid, As starting from a trance, Upon the harp her finger laid; Her magic touch the chords obey'd, Their soul awaked at once! SONG OF THE FOURTH MAIDEN. "Quake to your foundations deep, Stately towers and banner'd keep, Bid your vaulted echoes moan, As the dreaded step they own. "Fiends, that wait on Merlin's spell, Hear the footfall! mark it well! Spread your dusky wings abroad, Bound ye for your homeward road! "It is HIS, the first who e'er Dared the dismal Hall of Fear; His, who hath the snares defied Spread by Pleasure, Wealth, and Pride. "Quake to your foundations deep, Bastion huge, and turret steep! Tremble, keep! and totter, tower! This is Gyneth's waking hour."