In 1815 this poem was placed among those "of the Imagination"; in 1845 it was transferred to the class of "Miscellaneous Poems."--ED. Ere the Brothers through the gateway Issued forth with old and young, To the Horn Sir Eustace pointed Which for ages there had hung.[1] Horn it was which none could sound, 5 No one upon living ground, Save He who came as rightful Heir To Egremont's Domains and Castle fair. Heirs from times of earliest record[2] Had the House of Lucie born, 10 Who of right had held the Lordship Claimed by proof upon the Horn:[3] Each at the appointed hour Tried the Horn,--it owned his power; He was acknowledged: and the blast, 15 Which good Sir Eustace sounded, was the last. With his lance Sir Eustace pointed, And to Hubert thus said he, "What I speak this Horn shall witness For thy better memory. 20 Hear, then, and neglect me not! At this time, and on this spot, The words are uttered from my heart, As my last earnest prayer ere we depart. "On good service we are going 25 Life to risk by sea and land, In which course if Christ our Saviour Do my sinful soul demand, Hither come thou back straightway, Hubert, if alive that day; 30 Return, and sound the Horn, that we May have a living House still left in thee!" "Fear not," quickly answered Hubert; "As I am thy Father's son, What thou askest, noble Brother, 35 With God's favour shall be done." So were both right well content: Forth they from the Castle went,[4] And at the head of their Array To Palestine the Brothers took their way. 40 Side by side they fought (the Lucies Were a line for valour famed) And where'er their strokes alighted, There the Saracens were tamed. Whence, then, could it come--the thought-- 45 By what evil spirit brought? Oh! can a brave Man wish to take His Brother's life, for Lands' and Castle's sake? "Sir!" the Ruffians said to Hubert, "Deep he lies in Jordan flood." 50 Stricken by this ill assurance, Pale and trembling Hubert stood. "Take your earnings."--Oh! that I Could have _seen_[5] my Brother die! It was a pang that vexed him then; 55 And oft returned, again, and yet again. Months passed on, and no Sir Eustace! Nor of him were tidings heard. Wherefore, bold as day, the Murderer Back again to England steered. 60 To his Castle Hubert sped; Nothing has he[6] now to dread. But silent and by stealth he came, And at an hour which nobody could name.