"'No, Marie, no! my wife shall share With me the trials soldiers bear: No longer and no more we part.--- Thy presence needful to my heart I now more evidently know; Making the careful moments flow To happy music! on my brow The iron casque shall lighter prove,-- The corslet softer on my breast, The shield upon my arm shall rest More easy, when the hand of love There places them. Our succours soon Arrive; and then, whatever boon I shall think fitting to demand, My gracious monarch's bounteous hand Awards as guerdon for my charge, And bids my wishes roam at large. Then if we from these rebels tear The traitor honours which they wear, Thy father's tides and domain Shall flourish in his line again! And Marie's child, in time to come, Shall call his grandsire's castle, home! Alas! poor babe! the scenes of war For him too harsh and frightful are! Would that he might in safety rest Upon my gentle mother's breast! That in the vessel now at bay, In Hugh de Lacy's care he lay! My heart and reason would be free, If he were safe beyond the sea. "'Nay, let me not my love displease! But is it fit, that walls like these The blooming cherub should inclose! And when our close approaching foes Are skirmishing the country o'er, We must adventure forth no more.' "At length I gave a half consent, Resign'd, submissive, not content: For, only in intensest prayer, For, only kneeling did I dare, Sustaining thus my sinking heart, Suffer my infant to depart. Oh! yet I see his sparkling tears; His parting cries are in my ears, As, strongly bending back the head, The little hands imploring spread, Him from my blinding sight they bore, Down from the fort along the shore. "From the watch-tower I saw them sail, And pour'd forth prayers--of no avail! Yet, when a tempest howl'd around, Hurling huge branches on the ground From stately trees; when torrents swept The fields of air, I tranquil kept.-- "Hope near a fading blossom Will often take her stand; Revive it on her bosom, Or screen it with her wand: But to the leaves no sunbeams press, Her fair, thick locks pervading; Through that bright wand no dew-drops bless, Still cherish'd, and still fading:-- Beneath her eye's bright beam it pines, Fed by her angel smile, declines. "Eustace, meanwhile, with feverish care, Seem'd worse the dire suspense to bear. Bewilder'd, starting at the name Of messenger, when any came, With body shrinking back, he sought, While his eye seem'd on fire with thought, Defying, yet subdued by fear, To ask that truth he dar'd not hear.