THE RED-CROSS KNIGHT.

PART III.

AND now 't was night, all dark and drear,
And cold, cold blew the wind,

While the Red-cross Knight sought all about,

The pilgrim-boy to find.

And still he wept, and still he sighed,

As he mourned his lady dear!——

And where's the feast; and where's the guest,

Thy bridal bed to cheer?

Again he sighed; and wept forlorn,
For his lady that was dead!—

Lady, how sad thy wedding-tide!
How cold thy bridal bed!

Thus the Red-cross Knight roamed sore and sad,

While all around did cry,—

"Let the minstrels sing, and the bells 'yring,

And the feast be eat merrily!"

And now the gentle moon around

Her silver lustre shed,

Brightened each ancient wall and tower,

And distant mountain's head;

By whose sweet light the knight perceived,

(A sight which gave him joy!) From a dungeon dread, the warder led, The faithful pilgrim-boy!

In vain the warder strove to hide
The pilgrim-boy from him:

The knight he ran and clasped the youth,
In spite of the warder grim.

The warder, though wrath, his banner waved;
And still aloud did cry,

"Let the minstrels sing, and the bells 'yring, And the feast eat merrily."

"I'm glad I've found thee, pilgrim-boy!
And thou shalt go with me;

And thou shalt lead to my lady's grave,
And great thy reward shall be."

The affrighted pilgrim wrung his hands,

And shed full many a tear:

"Her grave," he cried, and mournful sighed,

"I dread's-not far from here!"

The knight he led the pilgrim-boy

Into the castle hall,

Where sat the lord, and his daughter fair,

And the ladies clad in pall.

"I go! (he cried), with the pilgrim-boy,

So think no more of me;

But let your minstrels sing, and your bells all ring, And feast ye merrily!"

Up then arose the lord's daughter,

And called to the pilgrim-boy

"Oh! come to me! for I 've that to say

Will give to thee much joy."

Full loath the pilgrim was to go,

Full loath from the knight to part: And lo! out of spite, with a dagger bright, She hath stabbed him to the heart!

"Why art thou pale, thou pilgrim-boy?"
The knight, all wondering, cried;
"Why dost thou faint, thou pilgrim-boy,
When I am by thy side?"

"Oh! I am stabbed, dear Red-cross Knight, Yet grieve not thou for me;

But let the minstrels sing, and the bells 'yring, And feast thee merrily!"

The knight he ran and clasped the youth,

And op'd his pilgrim-vest;

And, lo! it was his lady fair,

His lady dear, he pressed!

Her lovely breast, like ermine white,

Was panting with the fright;

Her dear heart's blood, in crimson flood,
Ran pouring in his sight.

"Grieve not for me, my faithful knight!”

The lady, faint, did cry;

"I'm well content, my faithful knight,

Since in thy arms I die !—

Then comfort thee, my constant love!

Nor think thee more of me;

But let the minstrels sing, and the bells 'yring, And feast thee merrily!

"Like pilgrim-boy, I've followed thee,

In truth, full cheerfully;

Resolved, if thou shouldst come to ill,

Dear knight! to die with thee:

And much I feared, some wily fair

Would keep thee from my sight;

And by her bright charms, lure from my arms My dear-loved Red-cross Knight!"

Oh, Heaven forfend!" the knight replied, "That thou shouldst die for me;

But if so hapless is thy fate,

66

Thy knight will die with thee!"

'O, say not so! for well my knight

Hath proved his love to me!

But let the minstrels sing, and the bells 'yring, And feast thee merrily!"

The knight he pressed her to his heart,

And bitterly he sighed :

The lovely lady strove to cheer,

Till in his arms she died!

The knight he laid her corpse adown,

And his deadly sword drew forth;

Then looked he around, and grimly frowned, All woe-begone with wrath.

O, then bespake the ladies fair,
As they stood clad in pall,
"Oh! this will be our burial place

That was our castle hall.

No more to our silver lute's sweet sound
Shall we dance with revelry;

Nor the mass be sung, nor the bells be rung,
Nor the feast be eat merrily!"

Then up arose the lord's daughter,
And never a word spake she,

But quick upon the knight's drawn sword
She flung her, franticly :

The knight to his own dear lady turned,
And laid him by her side;

With tears embraced her bleeding corpse,
Sighed her dear name—and died!

O, then bespake the affrighted lord,
And full of woe, spake he:

"Foul fall the hour this Red-cross Knight Did come to visit me!

For now no more will my daughter fair
Rejoice my guests and me;

Nor the mass be sung, nor the bells be rung,
Nor the feast held merrily!”

And then he spake to the ladies fair,
As they stood clad in pall,
"Lo! this thy lady's burial place,

That was her castle hall!

Oh then be warned, from her sad fate,
And hate the wanton love;

But in Him confide who for thee died
And now sits throned above!

"Warder, no more resound thy horn,
Nor thy banner wave on high;

Nor the mass be sung, nor the bells be rung,
Nor the feast eat merrily."

No more the warder blows his horn,

Nor his banner waves on high,

Nor the mass is sung, nor the bells 'yrung,
Nor the feast eat merrily.

EVANS.