"So came the dawn: o'er the new Christian fold, 46 Glad as the Heavenly Shepherd, smiled the sun; Then to those grateful hearts my tale I told, The heathen bonds the Christian maid should shun, And pray'd in turn their aid my soul to save From doom more dismal than a sinless grave. "They, with one shout, proclaim their law my will, 47 And veer the prow from northern snows afar, Soon gentler winds the murmuring canvas fill, Fair floats the bark where guides the western star. From coast to coast we pass'd, and peaceful sail'd Into lone creeks, by yon blue mountains veil'd. "Here all wide-scatter'd up the inward land 48 For stores and water, range the blithesome crew; Lured by the smiling shores, one gentler band I join'd awhile, then left them, to pursue Mine own glad fancies, where the brooklet clear Shot singing onwards to the sunlit mere. "And so we chanced to meet!" She ceased, and bent 49 Down the fresh rose-hues of her eloquent cheek; Ere Lancelot spoke, the startled echo sent Loud shouts reverberate, lengthening, plain to peak; The sounds proclaim the savage followers near, And straight the rose-hues pale,--but not from fear. Slowly Genevra rose, and her sweet eyes 50 Raised to the Knight's, frankly and mournfully; "Farewell," she said, "the winged moment flies, Who shall say whither?--if this meeting be Our last as first, O Christian warrior, take The Saxon's greeting for the Christian's sake. "And if, returning to thy perill'd land, 51 In the hot fray thy sword confront my Sire, Strike not--remember me!" On her fair hand The Cymrian seals his lips; wild thoughts inspire Words which the lips may speak not:--but what truth Lies hid when youth reflects its soul in youth! Reluctant turns Genevra, lingering turns, 52 And up the hill, oft pausing, languid wends. As infant flame through humid fuel burns, In Lancelot's heart with honour, love contends; Longs to pursue, regain, and cry, "Where'er Thou wanderest, lead me; Paradise is there!" But the lost Arthur!--at that thought, the strength 53 Of duty nerved the loyal sentinel: So by the lake watch'd Lancelot;--at length Upon the ring his looks, in drooping, fell, And see, the hand, no more in dull repose, Points to the path in which Genevra goes! Amazed, and wrathful at his own delight, 54 He doubts, he hopes, he moves, and still the ring Repeats the sweet command, and bids the Knight Pursue the Maid as if to find the King. Yielding at last, though half remorseful still, The Cymrian follows up the twilight hill.