As wreath of snow, on mountain breast, Slides from the rock that gave it rest, Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And at the Monarch's feet she lay; No word her choking voice commands-- 745 She showed the ring--she clasped her hands. Oh! not a moment could he brook, The generous Prince, that suppliant look! Gently he raised her--and, the while, Checked with a glance the circle's smile; 750 Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, And bade her terrors be dismissed: "Yes, Fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James The fealty of Scotland claims. To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring; 755 He will redeem his signet-ring. Ask naught for Douglas; yester even His prince and he have much forgiven. Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 760 We would not, to the vulgar crowd, Yield what they craved with clamor loud; Calmly we heard and judged his cause, Our council aided, and our laws. I stanched thy father's death-feud stern, 765 With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn; And Bothwell's lord henceforth we own The friend and bulwark of our throne. But, lovely infidel, how now? What clouds thy misbelieving brow? 770 Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid; Thou must confirm this doubting maid." XXVIII Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, And on his neck his daughter hung. The Monarch drank, that happy hour, 775 The sweetest, holiest draught of Power-- When it can say, with godlike voice, Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice! Yet would not James the general eye On Nature's raptures long should pry; 780 He stepped between--"Nay, Douglas, nay, Steal not my proselyte away! The riddle 'tis my right to read, That brought this happy chance to speed. --Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 785 In life's more low but happier way, 'Tis under name which veils my power, Nor falsely veils--for Stirling's tower Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 790 Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, Thus learn to right the injured cause." Then, in a tone apart and low-- "Ah, little traitress! none must know What idle dream, what lighter thought, 795 What vanity full dearly bought, Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew My spell-bound steps to Benvenue, In dangerous hour, and all but gave Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive!"-- 800 Aloud he spoke, "Thou still dost hold That little talisman of gold, Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring-- What seeks fair Ellen of the King?" XXIX