shoulders bare. His beard was long, and his hair flowed over his neck and shoulders in wavy luxuriance. Thus arrayed in the picturesque habit allowed to that order of men whose persons were held sacred everywhere throughout the kingdom, he was one of those noble specimens of manly beauty formed to awaken the interest and admiration of all beholders.
Meadh foamed at the board—the bards sang “the days of other years,” nor was the theme of love held unmeet for so joyous an occasion—the harp was passed round from hand to hand among the guests, each one contributing his portion of song to enliven the feast, and the unknown bard, in his turn taking the instrument, struck the chords loudly; and while Brehilda, who was seated near her lord, listened, trembling and pale with apprehension lest the intruder should be discovered beneath the disguise which the eyes of love had already penetrated, he sang—
The dove was the falcon’s love,
The dove with her tender breast;
Ah! weary the fate that gave
The dove to the kite’s vile nest!
The moon from yon cloud to-night
Looks down on the feast of shells;
Oh, marked she the falcon’s flight
For the home where his own dove dwells?
There’s a veil o’er my harp’s true strings,
There’s a cloud o’er the fair moon’s breast;
And the falcon, with outspread wings,
Hangs o’er the kite’s vile nest.
The famishing birds of prey,
Are hurrying through the night,
But the dove with her falcon love
Will have flown ere the morning light!
The feast flowed on, uninterrupted by aught but song; and at a late hour the revellers retired from the banquet to their apartments in the castle.
It was long after midnight, when the sleepers were aroused from their slumbers by the sound of conflict in the hall below. Hastily dressed, and half armed, they rushed forth from their apartments to meet the swords of their unknown assailants. Wildly the contest
