« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
It chanced that up the covert lane,
Where Julian waiting stood,
The huntsmen in the wood.
And with him must Lord Julian go,
Tho' with an anger'd mind : Betroth'd not wedded to his bride, In vain he sought, twixt shame and pride,
Excuse to stay behind.
He bit his lip; he wrung his glove,
But pretext none could find or frame!
Yet Love wants courage without a name !
Straight from the forest's skirt the trees
O'er-branching, made an aisle, Where hermit old might pace and chaunt
As in a minster's pile.
From underneath its leafy screen,
And from the twilight shade,
and lightsome glade.
And there Lord Julian sate on steed;
Behind him, in a round,
Stood knight and squire, and menial train; Against the leash the greyhounds strain;
The horses paw'd the ground.
Lord Julian turn'd his steed half round.
“ What! doth not Alice deign To accept your loving convoy, knight? Or doth she fear our woodland sleight,
And joins us on the plain?"
With stifled tones the knight replied,
“ Nay, let the hunt proceed -
And less deserves your heed.
“ You sent betimes. Not yet unbarr'd
I found the middle door ;Two stirrers only met my eyes,
Fair Alice, and one more.
“ I came unlook'd for: and, it seem'd,
In an unwelcome hour;
Within the lattic'd bower.
“ But hush! the rest may wait. If lost,
No great loss, I divine ;
A fair maid's lips than mine.”
“ God's wrath! speak out, man,” Julian cried,
O'ermaster'd by the sudden smart ;And feigning wrath, sharp, blunt, and rude, The knight his subtle shift pursued.“ Scowl not at me; command my skill, To lure your hawk back, if you will,
But not a woman's heart.
6 "Go! (said she) tell him,-slow is sure;
Fair speed his shafts to-day! I follow here a stronger lure,
And chase a gentler prey.'
“ The game, pardie, was full in sight,
The fair dame's eyes engage;
Full on her wanton page.”
The last word of the traitor knight
It had but entered Julian's ear,From two o'erarching oaks between, With glistning helm-like cap is seen,
Borne on in giddy cheer,
A youth, that ill his steed can guide ;
As answering to a voice,
“ 'Tis this mad filly's choice.”
With sudden bound, beyond the boy,
That regal front! those cheeks aglow!
Thou lovely child of old Du Clos!
Dark as a dream Lord Julian stood,
Sprang on the plighted maid !
Lies bleeding on the glade.
THE KNIGHT'S TOMB.
WHERE is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
grave of that good man be?-By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn, Under the twigs of a young birch tree!
The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
HYMN TO THE EARTH.
EARTH! thou mother of numberless children, the
nurse and the mother, Hail! O goddess, thrice hail! blest be thou! and,
blessing, I hymn thee! Forth, ye sweet sounds! from my harp, and my
voice shall float on your surgesSoar thou aloft, O my soul! and bear up my song on
Travelling the vale with mine eyes-green meadows
and lake with green island, Dark in its basin of rock, and the bare stream
flowing in brightness, Thrilled with thy beauty and love in the wooded
slope of the mountain, Here, great mother, I lie, thy child, with his head on thy bosom!
[thy tresses, Playful the spirits of noon, that rushing soft through