VII.

Him Juan sought, and told of their intent;-- He spake not, but a sign expressed assent, 140 These Juan calls--they come--to their salute He bends him slightly, but his lips are mute. "These letters, Chief, are from the Greek--the spy, Who still proclaims our spoil or peril nigh: Whate'er his tidings, we can well report, Much that"--"Peace, peace!"--he cuts their prating short. Wondering they turn, abashed, while each to each Conjecture whispers in his muttering speech: They watch his glance with many a stealing look, To gather how that eye the tidings took; 150 But, this as if he guessed, with head aside, Perchance from some emotion, doubt, or pride, He read the scroll--"My tablets, Juan, hark-- Where is Gonsalvo?"

"In the anchored bark." "There let him stay--to him this order bear-- Back to your duty--for my course prepare: Myself this enterprise to-night will share." "To-night, Lord Conrad?" "Aye! at set of sun: The breeze will freshen when the day is done. My corslet--cloak--one hour and we are gone. 160 Sling on thy bugle--see that free from rust My carbine-lock springs worthy of my trust; Be the edge sharpened of my boarding-brand, And give its guard more room to fit my hand. This let the Armourer with speed dispose; Last time, it more fatigued my arm than foes; Mark that the signal-gun be duly fired, To tell us when the hour of stay's expired."