THE DREAM.
61
And many a lady's eye was bent
On the stranger knight in the tournament;
He had his father's stately brow,
And the falcon eye that flash'd below;
But when he knelt as the victor down,
(Fair was the maiden who gave the crown,)
A few low words the young warrior said,
And his lip had his mother's smile and red.
He is dwelling now in his native glen,
And there my harp must waken again;
My last song shall be for him young, him brave,
Then away to die at my master's grave!
Led by a child whose sunny air,
And rosy cheek young Health might wear,
