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16
THE TROUBADOUR.
But amid the gold of its thousand curls
Was twisted a braid of snow-white pearls,—
They said 'twas a charmed spell; that before,
This braid her nameless mother wore;
And many were the stories wild
Whisper'd of the neglected child.
Lord Amirald, (thus the tale was told),
The former lord of the castle-hold,—
Lord Amirald had followed the chase
Till he was first and last in the race;
The blood-dy'd sweat hung on his steed,
Each breath was a gasp, yet he stay'd not his speed.
Twice the dust and foam had been wash'd
By the mountain torrent that over them dash'd;
But still the stag held on his way,
Till a forest of pine trees before them lay,
