“Sons of Germain, to your keeping do I yield my bride to-day. Guard her well as you do love me; guard her well and holily. Dearer than mine own soul to me, you will hold her as your life, ’Gainst the guile of seeming friendship and the force of open strife.” “We will guard her,” cried they firmly; and with just another glance On the yearning and despairing in his young wife’s countenance, Gallant Beaufort strode before them down the aisle and through the door, And a shadow came and lingered where the sunlight stood before. Eight long months the young wife waited, watching from her bridal room For the coming of her husband up the valley forest’s gloom. Eight long months the sons of Germain paced the ramparts and the wall, With their hands upon their halberds ready for the battle-call. Then there came a sound of trumpets pealing up the vale below, And a dozen floating banners lit the forest with their glow, And the bride arose like morning when it feels the sunlight nigh, And her smile was like a rainbow flashing from a misty sky. But the eldest son of Germain lifting voice from off the wall, Cried aloud, “It is a stranger’s and not Sir Beaufort’s call; Have you ne’er a slighted lover or a kinsman with a heart Base enough to seek his vengeance at the sharp end of the dart?” “There is Sassard of the Mountains,” answered she without guile, “While I wedded at the chancel, he stood mocking in the aisle; And my maidens say he swore there that for all my plighted vow, They would see me in his castle yet upon Morency’s brow.” “It is Sassard and no other then,” her noble guardian cried; “There is craft in yonder summons,” and he rung his sword beside. “To the walls, ye sons of Germain! and as each would hold his life From the bitter shame of falsehood, let us hold our master’s wife.” “Can you hold her, can you shield her from the breezes that await?” Cried the stinging voice of Sassard from his stand beside the gate. “If you have the power to shield her from the sunlight and the wind, You may shield her from stern Sassard when his falchion is untwined.” “We can hold her, we can shield her,” leaped like fire from off the wall, And young Enguerrand the valiant, sprang out before them all. “And if breezes bring dishonor, we will guard her from their breath, Though we yield her to the keeping of the sacred arms of Death.” And with force that never faltered, did they guard her all that day, Though the strength of triple armies seemed to battle in the fray, The old castle’s rugged ramparts holding firm against the foe, As a goodly dyke resisteth the whelming billow’s flow.