Lone by the lake reclined young Lancelot-- 1 Night pass'd, the noonday slept on wave and plain; Lone by the lake watch'd patient Lancelot; Like Faith assured that Love returns again. Noon glided on to eve; when from the brake Brushed a light step, and paused beside the lake. How lovely to the margin of the wave 2 The shy-eyed Virgin came! and, all unwitting The unseen Knight, to the frank sunbeam gave Her sunny hair--its snooded braids unknitting; And, fearless, as the Naiad by her well, Sleeked the loose tresses, glittering where they fell. And, playful now, the sandal silks unbound, 3 Oft from the cool fresh wave with coy retreat Shrinking,--and glancing with arch looks around, The crystal gleameth with her ivory feet, Like floating swan-plumes, or the leaves that quiver From water-lilies, under Himera's river. Ah happy Knight, unscath'd, such charms espying, 4 As brought but death to the profane of yore, When Dian's maids to angry quivers flying Pierced the bold heart presuming to adore! Alas! the careless archer they disdain, Can slay as surely, though with longer pain. But worthy of his bliss, the loyal Knight, 5 Pure from all felon thoughts as Knights should be, Revering, anger'd at his own delight, The lone, unconscious, guardless modesty, Rose, yet unseen, and to the copse hard by, Stole with quick footstep and averted eye. But as one tremour of the summer boughs 6 Scares the shy fawn, so with that faintest sound The Virgin starts, and back from rosy brows Flings wide the showering gold; and all around Casts the swift trouble of her looks, to see The white plume glisten through the rustling tree. As by some conscious instinct of the fear 7 He caused, the Knight turns back his reverent gaze; And in soft accents, tuned to Lady's ear In gentle courts, her purposed flight delays; So nobly timid in his look and tone As if the power to harm were all her own. "Lady and liege, O fly not thus thy slave; 8 If he offend, unwilling the offence, For safer not upon the unsullying wave Doth thy pure image rest, than Innocence On the clear thoughts of noble men!" He said; And low, with downcast lids, replied the maid. [Oh, from those lips how strangely musical 9 Sounds the loathed language of the Saxon foe!] "Though on mine ear the Cymrian accents fall, And in my speech, O Cymrian, thou wilt know The Daughter of the Saxon; marvel not, That less I fear thee in this lonely spot