farther he penetrated into the gloomy recesses of the mountains,
the lighter became his conversation, and when he found that
unanswered, the louder grew his song. Sir Kenneth knew enough of
the Eastern languages to be assured that he chanted sonnets of
love, containing all the glowing praises of beauty in which the
Oriental poets are so fond of luxuriating, and which, therefore,
were peculiarly unfitted for a serious or devotional strain of
thought, the feeling best becoming the Wilderness of the
Temptation. With inconsistency enough, the Saracen also sung
lays in praise of wine, the liquid ruby of the Persian poets; and
his gaiety at length became so unsuitable to the Christian
knight's contrary train of sentiments, as, but for the promise of
amity which they had exchanged, would most likely have made Sir
Kenneth take measures to change his note. As it was, the
Crusader felt as if he had by his side some gay, licentious
fiend, who endeavoured to ensnare his soul, and endanger his
immortal salvation, by inspiring loose thoughts of earthly
pleasure, and thus polluting his devotion, at a time when his
faith as a Christian and his vow as a pilgrim called on him for a
serious and penitential state of mind. He was thus greatly
perplexed, and undecided how to act; and it was in a tone of
hasty displeasure that, at length breaking silence, he
interrupted the lay of the celebrated Rudpiki, in which he
prefers the mole on his mistress's bosom to all the wealth of
Bokhara and Samarcand.

"Saracen," said the Crusader sternly, "blinded as thou art, and
plunged amidst the errors of a false law, thou shouldst yet
comprehend that there are some places more holy than others, and
that there are some scenes also in which the Evil One hath more