GOD'S SINGER.
19
"Ha!" spake the Baron, "bring him in,
The merry Jongleur! to the strings
The wine will move, and dance within
Our beakers while he sings."
The merry Jongleur! to the strings
The wine will move, and dance within
Our beakers while he sings."
As came the minstrel in the hall,
He bore him high and free,
Yet lowly bowed, as one long vowed
To gentle courtesy.
Then o'er his harp, with thought to claim
A silence ere he sung,
He passed his hand, as if to tame
Each bounding chord that sprung
Beneath it; as a loving heart,
Now fretted, and now wrung.
Must rise and fall unto the thrall
That over it is flung;
Then soft and low, as is the flow
Of waters, to whose drip
A child hath danced, his finger fine
From string to string did slip,
Till, gathered in a sudden shower,
The spray-drops glanced and flew
As light as when, 'mid thick-wove boughs,
The sunbeams trickle through.
He bore him high and free,
Yet lowly bowed, as one long vowed
To gentle courtesy.
Then o'er his harp, with thought to claim
A silence ere he sung,
He passed his hand, as if to tame
Each bounding chord that sprung
Beneath it; as a loving heart,
Now fretted, and now wrung.
Must rise and fall unto the thrall
That over it is flung;
Then soft and low, as is the flow
Of waters, to whose drip
A child hath danced, his finger fine
From string to string did slip,
Till, gathered in a sudden shower,
The spray-drops glanced and flew
As light as when, 'mid thick-wove boughs,
The sunbeams trickle through.
And then, with firmer, bolder touch, he struck a deeper strain,
And high amid the cloven hills, by thunder rift in twain,
And high amid the cloven hills, by thunder rift in twain,
