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"But as thou wast and art-nay, frown not, lord, "If false, 'tis easy to disprove the word

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But, as thou wast and art, on thee looks down,

"Distrusts thy smiles, but shakes not at thy frown. "Art thou not he? whose deeds"

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"Words wild as these, accusers like to thee "I list no further; those with whom they weigh "May hear the rest, nor venture to gainsay "The wondrous tale no doubt thy tongue can tell, "Which thus begins so courteously and well. "Let Otho cherish here his polish'd guest,

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“To him my thanks and thoughts shall be exprest." And here their wondering host hath interposed--"Whate'er there be between you undisclosed, "This is no time nor fitting place to mar "The mirthful meeting with a wordy war. "If thou, Sir Ezzelin, hast ought to show "Which it befits Count Lara's ear to know, "To-morrow, here, or elsewhere, as may best "Beseem your mutual judgment, speak the rest; 470 I pledge myself for thee, as not unknown,

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Though like Count Lara now return'd alone "From other lands, almost a stranger grown; "And if from Lara's blood and gentle birth "I augur right of courage and of worth, "He will not that untainted line belie,

"Nor aught that knighthood may accord, deny."

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"To-morrow be it," Ezzelin replied,

"And here our several worth and truth be tried;
"I gage my life, my falchion to attest

"My words, so may I mingle with the blest!"
What answers Lara? to its centre shrunk
His soul, in deep abstraction sudden sunk;
The words of many, and the eyes of all

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That there were gather`d, seem'd on him to fall ; 485
But his were silent, his appear'd to stray
In far forgetfulness away---away---

Alas! that heedlessness of all around
Bespoke remembrance only too profound.

XXIV.

"To-morrow!---ay, to-morrow!" further word 490

Than those repeated none from Lara heard;
Upon his brow no outward passion spoke,
From his large eye no flashing anger broke;

Yet there was something fix'd in that low tone,
Which show'd resolve, determin'd, though unknown.
He seized his cloak---his head he slightly bow'd, 496
And passing Ezzelin, he left the crowd;

And, as he pass'd him, smiling met the frown

With which that chieftain's brow would bear him down:

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It was nor smile of mirth, nor struggling pride
That curbs to scorn the wrath it cannot hide;
But that of one in his own heart secure
Of all that he would do, or could endure.
Could this mean peace? the calmness of the good?
Or guilt grown old in desperate hardihood?

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Alas! too like in confidence are each,

For man to trust to mortal look or speech;

From deeds, and deeds alone, may he discern
Truths which it wrings the unpractised heart to learn.

XXV.

And Lara call'd his page, and went his way—
Well could that stripling word or sign obey:
His only follower from those climes afar,
Where the soul glows beneath a brighter star;
For Lara left the shore from whence he sprung,
In duty patient, and sedate though young;
Silent as him he served, his faith appears
Above his station, and beyond his years.

Though not unknown the tongue of Lara's land,
In such from him he rarely heard command;

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But fleet his step, and clear his tones would come, 520
When Lara's lip breath'd forth the words of home;
Those accents as his native mountains dear,
Awake their absent echoes in his ear,

Friends', kindreds', parents', wonted voice recall,
Now lost, abjured, for one-his friend, his all: 525
For him earth now disclosed no other guide;
What marvel then he rarely left his side?

XXVI.

Light was his form, and darkly delicate

That brow whereon his native sun had sate,

But had not marr'd though in his beams he grew, 530 The cheek where oft the unbidden blush shone

through;

Yet not such blush as mounts when health would show All the heart's hue in that delighted glow;

But 'twas a hectic tint of secret care

That for a burning moment fever'd there;

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And the wild sparkle of his eye seem'd caught From high, and lighten'd with electric thought, Though its black orb those long low lashes fringe, Had temper'd with a melancholy tinge;

Yet less of sorrow than of pride was there,

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Or if 'twere grief, a grief that none should share :
And pleased not him the sports that please his age,
The tricks of youth, the frolics of the page;

For hours on Lara he would fix his glance,
As all-forgotten in that watchful trance;
And from his chief withdrawn, he wander'd lone,
Brief were his answers, and his questions none;
His walk the wood, his sport some foreign book;
His resting-place the bank that curbs the brook:
He seem'd, like him he served, to live apart
From all that lures the eye, and fills the heart;
To know no brotherhood, and take from earth
No gift beyond that bitter boon—our birth.

XXVII.

If aught he loved, 'twas Lara; but was shown is faith in reverence and in deeds alone;

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In mute attention; and his care, which guess'd
Each wish, fulfill'd it ere the tongue express'd.

Still there was haughtiness in all he did,

A spirit deep that brook'd not to be chid;

His zeal, though more than that of servile hands, 560 In act alone obeys, his air commands;

As if 'twas Lara's less than his desire

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That thus he served, but surely not for hire.
Slight were the tasks enjoin'd him by his lord,
To hold the stirrup, or to bear the sword;
To tune his lute, or if he will'd it more,
On tomes of other times and tongues to pore;
But ne'er to mingle with the menial train,
To whom he show'd nor deference nor disdain,
But that well-worn reserve which proved he knew 570
No sympathy with that familiar crew:

His soul, whate'er his station or his stem,
Could bow to Lara, not descend to them.

Of higher birth he seem'd, and better days,

Nor mark of vulgar toil that hand betrays,

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So femininely white it might bespeak

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Another sex, when match'd with that smooth cheek,
But for his garb, and something in his gaze,
More wild and high than woman's eye betrays;
A latent fierceness that far more became
His fiery climate than his tender frame:
True, in his words it broke not from his breast,
But from his aspect might be more than guess'd.

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