He waves his sinewy tail with eager joy,

Impatient fury flashing from his eye.

So joys the fiend, and claps his dusky plumes;

Then at his master's high behest assumes

The form of Cadwall. O'er his shoulders thrown,

Such and so bright the crimson baldric shone;

Such radiant arms his manly limbs invest;

And such the honours of his lofty crest.
Graceful his courser's fiery speed he reins;
His better hand the pond'rous spear sustains...
Now by the side of Paladour he stands,

Where a tall oak the subject plain commands.

The youth at ease diffus'd upon the ground,

And list'ning to the flute's enchanting sound,
Borne by light breezes from the neighb'ring grove,

Resign'd his raptur'd soul to thoughts of love.

And while he glows with recollected joy,

Soft hopes of future bliss his mind employ.
Sudden the courser's thund'ring pace alarms,

And glitter through the shade the polish'd arms:

He sees the plumy helm, the deadly spear,

And these reproachful words assail his ear:

Thus shall thy youth's auspicious promise end? And is it thus that Cadwall finds his friend? 'Lost to thyself, to virtue, and to fame,

"The stain of knighthood, of thy race the shame. 'Well dost thou seek the lone and silent shade; Thy friend deserted, and thy faith betray'd.' Abash'd, oppress'd with sorrow and surprize, 'Spare thy reproof,' with fault'ring voice he cries. 'Ah spare thy just reproof! Ah yet forgive, 'Nor let thy kindled wrath for ever live!

'Behold, I follow thee. Delightful bow'rs,

'Where pleasure led the train of laughing hours, Farewell! Ah, yet th' involuntary sigh,

'Ah yet the tear that trembles in my eye! 'Dear that you are to this sad breast proclaim, 'Dearer than life, than all but virtuous fame.' Thus while he speaks, upon his heaving breast The mournful youth the twisted hauberk prest :

His brow once more a martial frown assumes,

Dark with the beaming helmet's wavy plumes:
His hand the spear and moony shield sustain,

And his proud courser feels the curbing rein.
And now with tearful, oft reverted eye,

He marks from view the lessening landscape fly;

While fancy paints to his disorder'd mind

The lovely mourner, whom he leaves behind.

From those fair eyes what streams of sorrow flow!

And ah, how melting is her voice of woe!

Now in his yielding breast love's gentle fires
Revive, and each fond hope of fame expires;
But still with keen reproach, or artful praise,
The phantom urges, still the youth obeys.

O'er many a mountain, many a plain they past,
Till evening's dusky veil the skies o'ercast.
Bleak heaths before them then in prospect lay;
No tree was nigh, no taper's cheerful ray
From sheltering cottage gleam'd, but shrill around
Sings the keen blast, the gath'ring tempests sound.

Then to the friendly form, with heaving breast,

The mournful Paladour his words addrest:

Alas, my brother!'-Sudden from his sight.

The faithless phantom vanish'd into night.

Aghast he stood. Now darkness wraps the skies,
Black clouds are roll'd on clouds, and winds arise;
The thunder roars; the livid lightning glares;

The cruel Archimage confest appears.

Secure of vengeance, with malignant smile,

The wizard eyes the victim of his guile,

And thus insults :- Now brave again my power! 'Now call Melissa from her fragrant bower!

Then hadst thou fear'd, when thy presumptuous arm 'Freed the proud fairy, and made vain my charm;

'What ills hadst thou escap'd! an endless train

Of torment, sorrow, still increasing pain!

Now vengeance seize him!' At the powerful sound

A troop of ghastly fiends the youth surround.

Full in his view their angry snakes they rear,

From their fell looks he turns his loathing eyes ::

Where'er he turns more dreadful forms arise.

Then all at once in air they lift him high,
Spread their dark pinions, and prepare to fly.
A sudden whirlwind, with resistless sweep;

Lays waste the realms, and lifts the foaming deep;
Uproots the woods, o'erthrows th' embattled tow'rs,
And strews with navies wreck'd th' affrighted shores.
O'er half the globe they speed their rapid flight
To where, beneath the pole, mysterious Night
Reigns with eternal Frost, and man's pale race
With strange and awful prodigies dismays.
There is a cavern, whose portentous breath
Gives forth a chillness like the damp of death:
Before its entrance stands, with scowling brow,

Fierce Scorn, dire usher to th' abode of Woe:

Within, through all the fathomless extent,

"The voice of weeping heard, and loud lament:" Reproach still urges, with incessant cries,

And keen regret her venom'd scourge applies.