Upon that night (a peasant's is the tale)

A Serf that crossed the intervening vale,[286]

When Cynthia's light almost gave way to morn,

And nearly veiled in mist her waning horn;

A Serf, that rose betimes to thread the wood,

And hew the bough that bought his children's food, 1200

Passed by the river that divides the plain

Of Otho's lands and Lara's broad domain:

He heard a tramp—a horse and horseman broke

From out the wood—before him was a cloak

Wrapt round some burthen at his saddle-bow,

Bent was his head, and hidden was his brow.

Roused by the sudden sight at such a time,

And some foreboding that it might be crime,

Himself unheeded watched the stranger's course,

Who reached the river, bounded from his horse, 1210

And lifting thence the burthen which he bore,

Heaved up the bank, and dashed it from the shore,

Then paused—and looked—and turned—and seemed to watch,

And still another hurried glance would snatch,

And follow with his step the stream that flowed,

As if even yet too much its surface showed;

At once he started—stooped—around him strown

The winter floods had scattered heaps of stone:

Of these the heaviest thence he gathered there,

And slung them with a more than common care. 1220

Meantime the Serf had crept to where unseen

Himself might safely mark what this might mean;

He caught a glimpse, as of a floating breast,

And something glittered starlike on the vest;

But ere he well could mark the buoyant trunk,

A massy fragment smote it, and it sunk:[lb]

It rose again, but indistinct to view,

And left the waters of a purple hue,

Then deeply disappeared: the horseman gazed

Till ebbed the latest eddy it had raised; 1230

Then turning, vaulted on his pawing steed,

And instant spurred him into panting speed.

His face was masked—the features of the dead,

If dead it were, escaped the observer's dread;

But if in sooth a Star its bosom bore,

Such is the badge that Knighthood ever wore,

And such 'tis known Sir Ezzelin had worn

Upon the night that led to such a morn.

If thus he perished, Heaven receive his soul!

His undiscovered limbs to ocean roll; 1240

And charity upon the hope would dwell

It was not Lara's hand by which he fell.[lc]