The baron's Yule feast: a Christmas rhyme . orchs blood-red glare, And the lover starts aghastAt the deathlike forms they wear! Too late, the truth upon him breaks! — Romaras heart is faint! — Behold thy bride ! the baron shrieks — Wilt hear the wedding chaunt ? This chain once bound my father here, Who would have found his grave — The cursed dotard ! — neath the wave, — Had not thy hateful hand been near. — Be this the bride thou now shalt wed ! This dungeon dank thy bridal bed ! — And when thy youthful blood shall freeze In death, — may fiends thy spirit seize ! — Plantagenet hath minions fe
The baron's Yule feast: a Christmas rhyme . orchs blood-red glare, And the lover starts aghastAt the deathlike forms they wear! Too late, the truth upon him breaks! — Romaras heart is faint! — Behold thy bride ! the baron shrieks — Wilt hear the wedding chaunt ? This chain once bound my father here, Who would have found his grave — The cursed dotard ! — neath the wave, — Had not thy hateful hand been near. — Be this the bride thou now shalt wed ! This dungeon dank thy bridal bed ! — And when thy youthful blood shall freeze In death, — may fiends thy spirit seize ! — Plantagenet hath minions fell Who do their masters bidding well: — 32 the barons yule feast. Few days Honiara pines in dread : —His soul is with the sainted dead! — Plantagenet hath reached his bourne!What terrors meet his soul forlornAnd full of stain, — I may not say : —Reveal them shall the Judgment Day! - Her orisons at matin hour, At noon, and eve, and midnight toll,For him, doth tearful Agnes pour ! — Jesu Maria ! sain his soul!. BARONS YULE FEAST. A Canto II. Symphonious notes of dulcet plaintFollowed the stranger minstrels chaunt ;And, when his sounding harp was dumb,The crowd, with loud applausive hum,Gave hearty guerdon for his strain;While some with sighs expressed what painHad pierced their simple bosoms thorowTo hear his song of death and sorrow. Come bear the mead-cup to our guest, Said Thorold to his daughter ; We thought to hear, at our Yule feast, A lay of mirth and laughter ; D 34 THE BARON S YULE FEAST. i But, to thy harp, thou well hast sung A song that may impart, For future hours, to old and young, Deep lessons to the heart. Yet, should not life be all a sigh! Good Snell, do thou a burthen try Shall change our sadness into joy:£ Such as thou trollest in blythe mood, On days of sunshine in the wood. Tell out thy heart withouten fear — For none shall stifle free thoughts here! But, bear the mead-cup, Edith sweet! We crave our stranger guest will gree
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