One day as he fate under a thorn

All funk in deep despair,
An aged Pilgrim pafs' him by,

Who mark'd his face of care.

I saw,

All Minstrels

yet

that ever Are full of game and glee: But thou art sad and woe-begone!

I marvel whence it be !

Father, I ferve an aged Lord,

Whose grief afflicts my mind ; His only child is stol'n away,

And fain I would her find.

Cheer up, my son; perchance, (he said)

Some tidings I may bear :
For oft when human hoper have failid,

Then heavenly comfort's near.

Behind yon hills fo fteep and high,

Down in a lowly glen,
There stands a castle fair and strong,

Far from th' abode of men.

As late I chanc'd to crave an alms

About this evening hour,
Me-thought I heard a Lady's voice

Lamenting in the tower.

And when I afk’d, what harm had hap'd,

What lady fick there lay?
They rudely drove me from the gate,

And bade me wend away.

These tidings caught Sir Bertram's ear,

He thank'd him for his tale ; And foon he hasted o'er the hills,

And soon he reach'd the vale.

Then drawing near those lonely towers,

Which stood in dale so low, And fitting down beside the gate,

His pipes he 'gan to blow.

Sir Porter, is thy lord at home

To hear a Minstrel's song? 'Or

may I crave a lodging here? Without offence or wrong?

My Lord, he said, is not at home

To hear a Minstrel's song:
And should I lend thee lodging here,

My life would not be long.

He play'd again, so soft a strain,

Such power sweet sounds impart, He won the churlish Porter's ear,

And moved his stubborn heart.

Minstrel, he said, thou play'st so sweet,

Fair entrance thou should't win ; But, alas ! I am sworn upon the rood,

To let no stranger in.
Yet, Minstrel, in yon riling cliff

Thou'lt find a sheltering cave,
And here thou shalt my supper share,

And there thy lodging have.

All day he fits beside the

And pipes both loud and clear : All night he watches round the walls,

In hopes his love to hear.

The first night, as he filent watch'd,

All at the midnight hour,
He plainly heard his Lady's voice

Lamenting in the tower.

The second night the moon shone clear,

And gilt the fpangled dew;
He saw his Lady thro' the grate,

But 'twas a transient view.

The third night wearied out he slept

'Till near the morning tide ; When starting up, he feiz'd his sword,

And to the castle hy’d.

When, lo i he saw a ladder of

ropes Depending from the wall; And o'er the mote was newly laid

A poplar strong and tall.

And foon he saw his love descend

Wrapt in a tartan plaid : Aflifted by a sturdy youth

In Highland garb y-clad.

Amaz'd confounded at the fight,

He lay unseen and still ; And soon he saw them cross the Atream,

And mount the neighbouring hill.
Unheard. unknown of all within,

The youthful couple fly.
But what can ’scape the lover's ken ?

Or Mun his piercing eye?
With filent step he follows close

Behind the Aying pair,
And saw her hang upon his arm,

With fond familiar air.

Thanks, gentle youth, she often said ;

My thanks thou well haft won : For me what wiles halt thou contriv'd ?

For me what dangers run?

And ever shall my grateful heart

Thy services repay :
Sir Bertram would no further hear,

But cried, Vile traitor, ftay!

Vile traitor, yield that Lady up!

And quick his sword he drew, The stranger turn'd in fudden rage,

And at Sir Bertram dew.

With mortal hate their vigorous arms

Gave many a vengeful Blow :
But Bertam's stronger band prevail'd,

And laid the ftranger low.

Die, traitor, die! A deadly thrust

Attends each furious word.
Ah! then fair Isabel knew his voice,

And rush'd beneath his sword.

oftop, she cried, O ftop thy arm !

Thou dost thy brother flay! And here the Hermit paus'd and wept :

His tongue no more could say,

At length he cried, Ye lovely pair,

How shall I tell the rest ?
Ere I could stop my piercing sword,

It fell and stab'd her breaft.

Wert thou thyself that hapless youth?

Ah! cruel fate! they said,
The Hermit wept, and so did they ;

They figh’d; he hung his head.

O blind and jealous rage, he cried,

What evils from thee flow? The Hermit pausid ; they filent mourn'd; He

wept, and they were woe.

Ah! when I heard

my
brother's

name,
And saw my lady bleed,
I rav'l, I wept, I curst my arm,

That wrought the fatal deed.

In vain 1 clafp'd her to my breast,

And clos’d the ghaftly wound ;
In vain I press'd his bleeding cerpfe,

And rais'd it from the ground.

My brother, alas ! fpake never more ;

His precious life was flown.
She kindly strove to footh my pain,

Regardless of her own.

Bertram, she faid, be comforted,

And live to think on me :
May we in heaven that union prove,

Which here was not to be.

Bertram, she said, I still was true ;
Thou only hadst my

heart : May we hereafter meet in bliss !

We now, alas ! must part.