Light was his form, and darkly delicate That brow whereon his native sun had sate, But had not marred, though in his beams he grew, 530 The cheek where oft the unbidden blush shone through; Yet not such blush as mounts when health would show All the heart's hue in that delighted glow; But 'twas a hectic tint of secret care That for a burning moment fevered there; And the wild sparkle of his eye seemed caught From high, and lightened with electric thought,[ka] Though its black orb those long low lashes' fringe Had tempered with a melancholy tinge; Yet less of sorrow than of pride was there, 540 Or, if 'twere grief, a grief that none should share: And pleased not him the sports that please his age, The tricks of Youth, the frolics of the Page; For hours on Lara he would fix his glance, As all-forgotten in that watchful trance; And from his chief withdrawn, he wandered lone, Brief were his answers, and his questions none; His walk the wood, his sport some foreign book; His resting-place the bank that curbs the brook: He seemed, like him he served, to live apart 550 From all that lures the eye, and fills the heart; To know no brotherhood, and take from earth No gift beyond that bitter boon--our birth. XXVII. If aught he loved, 'twas Lara; but was shown His faith in reverence and in deeds alone; In mute attention; and his care, which guessed Each wish, fulfilled it ere the tongue expressed. Still there was haughtiness in all he did, A spirit deep that brooked not to be chid; His zeal, though more than that of servile hands,[kb] 560 In act alone obeys, his air commands; As if 'twas Lara's less than _his_ desire That thus he served, but surely not for hire. Slight were the tasks enjoined him by his Lord, To hold the stirrup, or to bear the sword; To tune his lute, or, if he willed it more,[kc] On tomes of other times and tongues to pore; But ne'er to mingle with the menial train, To whom he showed nor deference nor disdain, But that well-worn reserve which proved he knew 570 No sympathy with that familiar crew: His soul, whate'er his station or his stem, Could bow to Lara, not descend to them. Of higher birth he seemed, and better days, Nor mark of vulgar toil that hand betrays, So femininely white it might bespeak Another sex, when matched with that smooth cheek, But for his garb, and something in his gaze, More wild and high than Woman's eye betrays; A latent fierceness that far more became 580 His fiery climate than his tender frame: True, in his words it broke not from his breast, But from his aspect might be more than guessed.[kd] Kaled his name, though rumour said he bore