Wyseby

0#" THE FIRST IKVINGS. 39
terrors. The mysterious one seemed to be conscious
that he was observed. Suddenly his song changed ;
wildly and hurriedly it burst thus : —
Farewell, Ev'ning ! Peace, farewell !
Havoc wakes the powers of hell !
Death is king ;-- the di'dem now
Darkens on his fleshless brow :
Lo ! the gifted sees afar,
"Wild the march of red-eyed War.
Farewell, Ev'ning ! Peace, farewell !
Awful morn to lake and fell,
Awful morn to vale and flood —
Dark with ruin — red with blood : —
Lurid with destruction's glare,
Haunts thy footsteps through the air :
Farewell, Ev'ning ! Peace, farewell !
Havoc wakes the powers of hell !
The song died. The minstrel was invisible 'mid
the night. The chief felt that to pursue him would be
ungenerous. " Sister," said he calmly, turning from
the casement, " danger is at hand. The foe must
not find us unprepared. Adieu at present ; when
opportunity again offers I will resume my tale."
" I will accompany thee, brother," said Catharine
rising. They left the apartment together. Another
hour, and every one of the numerous huts that then
studded these uplands were deserted. Old man and
young, matron and maid, of the name of Irving,
obedient to the hasty summons of the chief, stood in
the then spacious courts of that grey ruin.