But Charlemain sent them in anger away,
For she should not be buried, he said;
And despite of all counsel, for many a day,
Where array'd in her costly apparel she lay,
The Monarch would sit by the dead.
The cares of the kingdom demand him in vain,
And the army cry out for their Lord;
The Lombards, the fierce misbelievers of Spain,
Now ravage the realms of the proud Charlemain,
And still he unsheathes not the sword.
The Soldiers they clamour, the Monks bend in prayer
In the quiet retreats of the cell;
The Physicians to counsel together repair,
And with common consent, one and all they declare
That his senses are bound by a spell.
Then with relics protected, and confident grown,
And telling devoutly his beads,
The good old Archbishop, when this was made known,
Steals in when he hears that the corpse is alone,
And to look for the spell he proceeds.
He searches with care, though with tremulous haste,
For the spell that bewitches the King;
And under her tongue for security placed,
Its margin with mystical characters traced,
At length he discovers a ring.
Rejoicing he seized it and hasten'd away,
The Monarch re-enter'd the room;
The enchantment was ended, and suddenly gay
He bade the attendants no longer delay,
But bear her with speed to the tomb.
Now merriment, joyaunce, and feasting again
Enliven'd the palace of Aix;
And now by his heralds did King Charlemain
Invite to his palace the courtier train
To hold a high festival day.
And anxiously now for the festival day
The highly-born Maidens prepare;
And now, all apparell'd in costly array,
Exulting they come to the palace of Aix,
Young and aged, the brave and the fair.
Oh! happy the Damsel who 'mid her compeers
For a moment engaged the King's eye!
Now glowing with hopes and now fever'd with fears,
Each maid or triumphant, or jealous, appears,
As noticed by him, or pass'd by.
And now as the evening approach'd, to the ball
In anxious suspense they advance,
Hoping each on herself that the King's choice might fall,
When lo! to the utter confusion of all,
He ask'd the Archbishop to dance.
The damsels they laugh, and the barons they stare,
'Twas mirth and astonishment all;
And the Archbishop started, and mutter'd a prayer,
And, wroth at receiving such mockery there,
In haste he withdrew from the hall.
The moon dimpled over the water with light
As he wander'd along the lake side;
But the King had pursued, and o'erjoyed at his sight,
"Oh turn thee, Archbishop, my joy and delight,
