n her breast when her lord was near at hand, for well did she know what
effectual protection that brave Baron was ever ready to afford to all
those who were dear to him, or committed to his charge.

Soon afterwards Rolf passed through the great hall in which Biorn and
his guests were seated, conducting their attendants, who had charge of
the baggage, to their rooms. Gabrielle caught sight of her favourite
lute, and desired a page to bring it to her, that she might see if the
precious instrument had been injured by the sea-voyage. As she bent over
it with earnest attention, and her taper fingers ran up and down
the strings, a smile, like the dawn of spring, passed over the dark
countenances of Biorn and his son; and both said, with an involuntary
sigh, "Ah! if you would but play on that lute, and sing to it! It would
be but too beautiful!" The lady looked up at them, well pleased, and
smiling her assent, she began this song:--

"Songs and flowers are returning,
And radiant skies of May,
Earth her choicest gifts is yielding,
But one is past away.

The spring that clothes with tend'rest green
Each grove and sunny plain,
Shines not for my forsaken heart,
Brings not my joys again.

Warble not so, thou nightingale,
Upon thy blooming spray,
Thy sweetness now will burst my heart,
I cannot bear thy lay.

For flowers and birds are come again,
And breezes mild of May,
But treasured hopes and golden hours
Are lost to me for aye!"

The two Norwegians sat plunged in melancholy thought; but especially
Sintram's eyes began to brighten with a milder expression, his cheeks
glowed, every feature softened, till those who looked at him could
have fancied they saw a glorified spirit. The good Rolf, who had stood
listening to the song, rejoiced thereat from his heart, and devoutly
raised his hands in pious gratitude to heaven. But Gabrielle's
astonishment suffered her not to take her eyes from Sintram. At last she
said to him, "I should much like to know what has so struck you in that
little song. It is merely a simple lay of the spring, full of the
images which that sweet season never fails to call up in the minds of my
countrymen."

"But is your home really so lovely, so wondrously rich in s