Christine [pp. 171-182]

C7ristine: A Troubadour's Song.
Full many the tale of terror told
At eve, with changing cheek,
By maiden fair and stripling bold,
Of these dark keepers of the height
And, most of all, of the Wizard Knight,
The Knight of Pilate's Peak.
Isis was a name of terror known
And feared through all Provence;
-Mlen breathed it in an undertone,
With quailing eye askance,
Till the good Dauphin of Vienne,
And iliolan's ancient Lord,
One midnight stormed the robber den
And gave them to the sword;
All save the Wizard Knight, who rose
In a flame-wreathl from his dazzled foes;
All save a child, with golden hair,
Whom the Lord of Miolan deigned to spare
In ruth to womanhood,
And she, alas, is the maiden fair
Who wept in the walnut wood.
But who is he, with step of fate,
Goes gloomily through the castle gate
In the morning's virgin prime.
Why scattereth he with frenzied -hand
The fierce flame of that burning brand,
Chaunting an ancient rhyme
The eagle, scared from her blazing nest,
Whirls with a scream round his sable crest.
What muttereth he with demon smile,
Shaking his mailed hand the while
Toward the Chateau of La S6ne,
Where champing steed and bannered tent
Gave token of goodly tournament,
And the Golden D)olphin shone?
"Woe to the last of the Dauphin's line,
When the eagle shrieks and the red lights shine
Round the towers of Pilate's Peak!
Burn, beacon, burn!"-and as hlie spoke
From the ruined towers curled the pillared smoke,
As the light flame leapt from the ancient oak
And answered the eagle's shriek.
AMan and horse down the hillside sprang
And a voice through the startled forest rang "' I ride, I ride to win my bride.
Ito, Eblis! to thy servant's side;
Thou hast sworn no foe
Shall lay me low
Till the dead in arms against me ride."
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