Wyseby

38
wvseby: a legend
had begun to descend. Wave on wave, darker and
darker, down from the east they cairie. Objects grew
shadowy, indistinct, mystical. The chief had resumed.
" For months we remained " when a low strain
of music, ascending upwards from the margin of the
river, arrested him. Soft and low it arose : —
Ev'ning, welcome ! Ev'ning fair,
Maiden of the golden hair ;
Welcome thou to hall and bower,
Sov'reign of the peaceful hour !
Welcome, Ev'ning ! Ev'ning still I
Rest on river, lake, and hill.
Holy yearning ! lofty dream
Meets the soul, by lake and stream ;
In the vale and in the glen,
Gentle feelings wait for men :
Welcome, Ev'ning ! Ev'ning still !
Welcome thou to lake and hill !
In the hut and in the hall,
Joy'us are the thoughts of all ;
Peace and plenty into night
Silently thy footsteps light :
Welcome thou to hall and bower,
Sov'reign of the peaceful hour !
" Brother," said Catharine, in a soft whisper, " are
the tones of that voice familiar to thee ? Methinks
I have heard them before Ah !" she exclaimed, as
if suddenly recollecting where, " brother, that night."
The chief spoke not, but he arose and passed to the
latticed casement. His soul darkened. Shadows of
coming sorrow descended upon it ; for even amid the
deepening shades of evening he recognised, in the
singer of that hour, the minstrel of the night of