CHILDE ALARIQUE.

PART THIRD.

CHILDE ALARIQUE.

PART THIRD.

1.

As withered by the lightning's flash they fade,

And soothing music floats along the air,

Anon a Form in spotless garb arrayed (1)

Stood smiling, where erst stood the fiend Des

pair

Her own bright form shed its own lustre fair;
But in her hand a dazzling light was seen,
A talisman, whose magic orbit rare

Shone like a sun-beam on the dusky treene*,

And on the torrent shed a radiance most serene.

1

* Treene, for trees, in Spenser and other old writers.

2.

That hand extending, to the wondering Childe

She gave the lustrous gem ;-and softly rose Her accents,-like a strain of music mild

As to the youth its matchless worth she shows: "This talisman, best cure for earthly woes,

Receive-and bear it ever in thy sight;

So shalt thou vanquish thine unholy foes—

And fail not, when thou mark'st its radiance

bright,

To think on Her who gave the magic orb of light.

3.

"But if, through negligence or wicked art, That magic orb no more thy guide shall beIf thou shalt fail to wear it next thy heart,

And still from slothful stain to keep it free, And thou neglectest to remember me

O then, unhappy Childe! beware the day! For thou shalt drink the cup of misery!

No more the noontide glow-or evening rayOr aught of light and joy shall cheer thee on thy way!"

4.

The vision fled; but still the melting fall
Of heavenly music lingered on its way,
In long withdrawing notes,-like those that call
Some sainted spirit to the realms of day* ;-
And still remained the unextinguished ray

Of, that rare talisman, whose heavenly light Poured a rich lustre mid the forest grayAnd emanated through the gloom of night With soul-exalting influence, most divinely bright.

5.

The heavenly strains of soothing music died
Like the soft summer gale in languid mood;
But the bright talisman was left to guide

His home ward steps amid the tangled wood,
The youth, who, long by Melancholy's brood
Of hideous phantoms haunted night and day,
Felt all the bitterness of solitude,

Now saw the wonted forms in bright array Arise with sunny smile to cheer his lonely way,

"It seemed an angel's whisper'd call

To an expiring saint.”—Bridal of Triermain