Lo, A Castle, Tall, Lake-Mirrored, Ringed Around By Mountain Forms, Roofless, Ruined, Still Defying Summer'S Rains And Winter'S Storms. Every Shattered Lifeless Window, Every Stone In Every Wall, Keep And Gable, Broken Stairway, Woman'S Faithful Love Recall. Colin, Called "The Swarthy," Famous In The Annals Of Lochow, When A Child, Was Gently Fostered Near Where Orchy'S Waters Flow. The Black Knight, His Sire, Could Value Vassal'S Love And Hardy Fare; To A Gudewife Gave Him, Saying, "Train Him With The Sons You Bear." Strong He Grew, And Brave, Till Armies Praised In Him A Man Of Men. Came A Peace--Then Love;--A Lady Ruled With Him The Orchy'S Glen. But Afar From Over Ocean Rose A Cry For Christian Aid: Blessed Of Pope, 'Neath Holy Banners Sailed He For The Great Crusade. Leaving With His Weeping Lady Half Their Marriage Ring, Whereon Written Stood His Name, And Taking Half Where Hers, Engraven, Shone. "If No Tidings Reach Thee, Darling, Blame My Death." But She Through Tears Answered: "I'll Believe Thee Living Though I Hear Not Seven Years." Lonely Lived The Lady, Lonely: Riches Grew, And Brought Her All Save The Loving Words Whose Echo Seemed To Linger In His Hall. Voiceless Passed The Years; And Rumour Falsely Slew Him, Whose Steel Mail Flashed O'Er White Walls, Azure Sea Girt, Watched, And Feared By Moslem Sail. Rhodes' Fair Island Saw His Valour; 'Mid Her Gardens He Had Bled; Glowing As Her Sun, His Love-Words Homeward To His Lady Sped. Ah, They Reached Her Not, To Banish Days Of Care, And Nights Of Woe; Their Warm Sunshine Never Parted Clouds That Darkened O'Er Lochow, Weary Is Her Lot Whose Favour For Her Wealth Is Held A Prize; Oft She Finds No Truthful Homage, Sees No Love In Pleading Eyes. Man Gains Strength From Gold, But Woman Worse Than Dross Her Wealth May Call; Avarice Is Her Haunting Suitor, Giving Naught And Seeking All. Messages From The Crusader Fell Into A Baron'S Hands; Who, With Subtle Treason Working, Coveted Dark Colin'S Lands: Spread The Base And Cruel Rumours, Preyed Upon The Aching Heart, Asked Her Year By Year In Marriage, Falsely Played The Lover'S Part. And The Heartless Seasons Vanished, Other Twain Were Nearly Sped; Then At Last His Suit Seemed Answered, Silently She Bent Her Head. Gaily, Loudly, Laughing O'Er Her, Named The Baron Hour And Day. But She Said: "No, For This Wedding First I'll Build A Castle Gay. "When Its Halls Are Built, We'll Tarry Where Our Guests Can Praise Our Cheer; When The Feast-Smoke From Its Chimneys Rises, Then The Day Is Near." So The Building Rose, And Slowly Walls And Stairway, Keep And Tower Stone By Stone Completed, Sadly Heralded The Wedding Hour. Shall It Come, And Never Mercy Shown Of God Avert The Doom? Shall The Longing For The Absent Turn To Feasting O'Er His Tomb? Yes. The Castle'S New Possessor Soon Shall Follow Thronging Guests: As The Lake Reflects The Turrets Men Shall Second His Behests. Mournful, Where They Laughed So Gladly, A Poor Beggar, Haggard, Grey, Trod With Pain The Stony Roadside, Often Halting By The Way. He Too Reached The Castle'S Portal, Stood Within Its Archway Grim, Loitering In The Path Of Others; Who Would Step Aside For Him? Pushed A Henchman Rudely, Saying, "Get You Hence," But Still He Stood: Then They Gave Him Bread And Water, "Loiter Not, You Have Your Food." Twice Came Others, In His Wallet Thrusting Bread And Meat, And Said: "Now Away, Why Stand You Troubling, Here You Cannot Make Your Bed." "Drink From Her Own Hands Imploring, Tell Your Lady Here I Wait!" Wondering Went She Where The Beggar Shadowed Stood Within The Gate. Now She Pours The Crystal Water, Quickly He The Cup Returns; Oh! What Golden Circlet Broken Sees She There That Gleams And Burns? Eagerly She Grasped The Token, Turning To The Light Away; Came Again, And Crying "Colin!" On The Beggar'S Breast She Lay. Spoke He Sadly: "Hast Thou Truly Still The Heart I Loved? I Know-- They Have Told Me--That Thou Takest To Thy Love My Deadly Foe. "The Gudewife, My Foster Mother, Unto Whom I Made Me Known When I Reached The Orchy, Told Me How The Rumour Base Had Grown: "I Was Dead, Or Cared Not For Thee Who Received No Word Of Mine; 'Twas Thy Lover'S Doing, Woman, Hungering For My Wealth And Thine! "'Take,' The Gudewife Said, 'A Beggar'S Old Attire; And See The Mist Where The Wedding Smoke Is Ordered By The Lips Which Thou Hast Kissed.' "Thou Hast Put Our Ring Together Can It Be As One Again?" Then She Raised Her Face, And Proudly Spoke Unto Her Serving-Men: "See You Where The Baron'S People Come With Him Along The Road? Go And Tell Them Quickly, 'Colin Rules Again His Own Abode.'" Fled The Traitor, Pulses Beating, Not With Love, But Craven Fear; And The Beggar Found The Treasure That To Noble Hearts Is Dear. Found The Love No Time Had Altered, Honoured Lived, And Honoured Died; And In Rhodes And In Glenorchy Honoured Shall His Name Abide.