But she doth turn away from all,
With a tear in her blue eye,

And vows that she will never wed
But the Lord of Italy.

He is a youthful nobleman

Who follows much the sea,

And often anchors in the bay

Of rocky Sicily.

'Tis said he soon will wed a maid
Fair as his native sky—

If this be so, young ROSALIE

With grief will pine and die.

VI.

The song lit up Lord LEON's eye,

His pulse beat quick-he knew not why.
He gently waved the harper near,
That he the song might better hear;
Prayed, if it were not too much pain,
The minstrel would repeat the strain.
The veteran moved his harp along,
Twice o'er again he sang the song;
And while Lord LEON lauds his skill,

Thoughts dark and deep his bosom thrill.

VII.

"Where dost thou dwell? where hast thou been?

A minstrel so infirm and gray As thou, before I ne'er have seen

Or heard of, save in harper's lay Or legend old ;" the youthful lord With gentle seeming, asked the bard.

VIII.

66 Stranger! in sooth this frame is weak, These trembling limbs great age bespeak; Yet oft I dare the stormy deep,

And strive my mournful lyre to sweep.

Save it, my only source of bliss,
I roam the world companionless;
The minstrel's fire, his dreams divine,
His heritage of woe are mine.

Stranger! for years my care hath been,
The heart from love's despair to win ;
My harp on Hellas' shore I've strung,
Afar in Palestine have sung;
And where the Hakim's art hath failed,
My melody hath oft prevailed;

Me far on land and sea they've sought,
Many the mighty cures I've wrought,
And timid love to Hymen brought.

IX.

I have been to AUSONIA's shore,
To heal the lovely EMILIE;

To Sicily am crossing o'er,

To see the Lady ROSALIE.
And when I dissipate her fears,
Relieve her heart, and dry her tears,
By speaking many a cheering word

Of love, and the Italian lord,

I shall return to Italy

To soothe the mournful EMILIE,"

"I'd fain, sweet minstrel, thou would'st call,

And sweep thy lyre in UGo's hall;

There dwells a lady young and fair,

Who'll give thy song attentive ear."
""Tis FLORENCE, UGo's child," he said,
"Whom Leonardo soon will wed.
Beneath her window many a night
I've tuned my harp to her delight—
When thou wert coming from her tower
Last night we stood beneath a bower-
He made at thee a sabre stroke
Which nearly grazed thy sable cloak—
And, seizing him, the blade I broke.”

When thou return'st to Italy,
Discourse to her in minstrelsy

Of LEON's love and constancy."

"Thy will, young lord, shall be obeyed,” The agéd harper calmly said;

And as the vessel cleaved her way,

TO LEON many a tender lay

He sang, of every storied clime,

And chivalry of olden time;

The beauty of fair ROSALIE,

And her estate beyond the sea.

X.

Arrived at last, the happy crew

Salute the land that glads their view:

When safely anchored in the bay,

With trembling footsteps from the shore,

The hoary minstrel leads the way,

Unto the lady's castle door;

There tunes his harp, and to its sound

Comes ROSALIE with blithesome bound.

Hope smiling in her soft blue eye,
Her mien all joy--all ecstasy ;

By blushes deep her thoughts confest,
While ushering in her bard and guest.

XI.

The bounties spread before them here, The flowing bowl, and welcome cheer, The banquets rich, and festivals

That nightly filled the sumptuous halls, In honor of the noble guest,

Who, like a monarch, is caressed:

The minstrel's arts, and subtle wiles,

The witchery of the lady's smiles,
The magic of her matchless grace,
Her fatal charms I need not trace:

But all the fickleness of Love,
How very faithless he can prove
To whom he makes his warmest vow,
To what false shrines too oft we bow,
And what the youthful lord befell
For wedding the "Sicilian Belle,"
The sequel of this tale will tell.