He had looked down upon the festive hall,

And mark'd that sudden strife so marked of all:

And when the crowd around and near him told[ke]

Their wonder at the calmness of the bold,

Their marvel how the high-born Lara bore

Such insult from a stranger, doubly sore,

The colour of young Kaled went and came,

The lip of ashes, and the cheek of flame;

And o'er his brow the dampening heart-drops threw 600

The sickening iciness of that cold dew,

That rises as the busy bosom sinks

With heavy thoughts from which Reflection shrinks.

Yes—there be things which we must dream and dare,

And execute ere thought be half aware:[277]

Whate'er might Kaled's be, it was enow

To seal his lip, but agonise his brow.

He gazed on Ezzelin till Lara cast

That sidelong smile upon the knight he past;

When Kaled saw that smile his visage fell, 610

As if on something recognised right well:

His memory read in such a meaning more

Than Lara's aspect unto others wore:

Forward he sprung—a moment, both were gone,

And all within that hall seemed left alone;

Each had so fixed his eye on Lara's mien,

All had so mixed their feelings with that scene,

That when his long dark shadow through the porch

No more relieves the glare of yon high torch,

Each pulse beats quicker, and all bosoms seem 620

To bound as doubting from too black a dream,

Such as we know is false, yet dread in sooth,

Because the worst is ever nearest truth.

And they are gone—but Ezzelin is there,

With thoughtful visage and imperious air;

But long remained not; ere an hour expired

He waved his hand to Otho, and retired.