With a beating heart, and trembling Sir Eliduc sits in a lonely home, He hath built a marble tomb, And within it laid the foreign maid In the wild wood's central gloom : With railings of gold he hath railed it round, Beside the hermit's mossy cell; He hath lock'd it with a silver key, And bidden a last farewell. 15. 'Twas a lone sequester'd place; through boughs The sky o'erhead was seen; And wild vines ran the stems about, And festooning ivy green; 'Twas a favourite haunt for nightingales Singing the moonlight through; And by day the living emerald shade Echo'd the stock-dove's coo. 16. 'Twas one of Nature's shrines-the birds And beasts came flocking there: The golden pheasant, and vocal lark, And squirrel, and hart, and hare; But scarce a footstep breaks the gloom, The long still season lone ; Rains, winds, and sunbeams kiss the tomb But Sir Eliduc is gone! |