The heartsick lay was hardly said,
The list'ner had not turned her head, 690
It trickled still, the starting tear,
When light a footstep struck her ear,
And Snowdoun's graceful knight was near.
She turned the hastier, lest again
The prisoner should renew his strain. 695
"O welcome, brave Fitz-James!" she said;
"How may an almost orphan maid
Pay the deep debt"--"O say not so!
To me no gratitude you owe.
Not mine, alas! the boon to give, 700
And bid thy noble father live;
I can but be thy guide, sweet maid,
With Scotland's King thy suit to aid.
No tyrant he, though ire and pride
May lay his better mood aside. 705
Come, Ellen, come! 'tis more than time,
He holds his court at morning prime."
With beating heart, and bosom wrung,
As to a brother's arm she clung.
Gently he dried the falling tear, 710
And gently whispered hope and cheer;
Her faltering steps, half led, half stayed,
Through gallery fair, and high arcade,
Till, at his touch, its wings of pride
A portal arch unfolded wide. 715