Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed, A stranger climbed the steepy glade;His martial step, his stately mien, His hunting-suit of Lincoln green, His eagle glance, remembrance claims--'Tis Snowdoun's Knight, 'tis James Fitz-James.
Ellen beheld as in a dream, Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream:
'O stranger! in such hour of fear What evil hap has brought thee here?'
'An evil hap how can it be That bids me look again on thee?
By promise bound, my former guide Met me betimes this morning-tide, And marshalled over bank and bourne The happy path of my return.'
'The happy path!--what! said he naught Of war, of battle to be fought, Of guarded pass? ' ' No, by my faith!
Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.'
'O haste thee, Allan, to the kern:
Yonder his tartars I discern;
Learn thou his purpose, and conjure That he will guide the stranger sure!--What prompted thee, unhappy man?
The meanest serf in Roderick's clan Had not been bribed, by love or fear, Unknown to him to guide thee here.'
