168
THE TROUBADOUR.
Too faintly gleam'd the lamp to show
The face of either friend or foe;
But there was softness in the tread,
And Raymond raised his weary head,
And saw a muffled figure kneel,
And loose the heavy links of steel.
He heard a whisper, to which heaven
Had surely all its music given:—
"Vow to thy saints for liberty,
Sir knight, and softly follow me!"
He heard her light step on the stair,
And felt 'twas woman led him there.
And dim and dark the way they past
Till on the dazed sight flash'd at last
A burst of light, and Raymond stood
Where censers burn'd with sandal wood,
