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He did not cease; but cooed — and cooed ;
And somewhat pensively he wooed :
He sang of love with quiet blending,
Slow to begin, and never ending;
Of serious faith and inward glee;
That was the Song- the Song for me!


THREE years she grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower

On earth was never sown ;

This Child I to myself will take;

She shall be mine, and I will make
A Lady of my own.

Myself will to my darling be

Both law and impulse: and with me

The Girl, in rock and plain,

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shall feel an overseeing power

To kindle or restrain.

She shall be sportive as the Fawn

That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;

And her's shall be the breathing balm,
And her's the silence and the calm

Of mute insensate things.

The floating Clouds their state shall lend

To her; for her the willow bend;

Nor shall she fail to see

Even in the motions of the Storm

Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy.

The Stars of midnight shall be dear

To her; and she shall lean her ear

In many a secret place

Where Rivulets dance their wayward round,

And beauty born of murmuring sound

Shall pass into her face.

And vital feelings of delight

Shall rear her form to stately height,

Her virgin bosom swell;

Such thoughts to Lucy I will give

While she and I together live

Here in this happy Dell."

Thus Nature spake - The work was done

How soon my Lucy's race was run!

She died, and left to me

This heath, this calm, and quiet scene;

The memory of what has been,

And never more will be.


A SLUMBER did my spirit seal;

I had no human fears:

She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees,
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course
With rocks, and stones, and trees!



WHEN the Brothers reached the gateway,

Eustace pointed with his lance

To the Horn which there was hanging;

Horn of the inheritance.

Horn it was which none could sound,

No one upon living ground,

Save He who came as rightful Heir

To Egremont's Domains and Castle fair.

Heirs from ages without record

Had the House of Lucie born,

Who of right had claimed the Lordship
By the proof upon the Horn:

Each at the appointed hour

Tried the Horn, it owned his power;

He was acknowledged: and the blast,

Which good Sir Eustace sounded, was the last.


With his lance Sir Eustace pointed,
And to Hubert thus said he,

"What I speak this Horn shall witness
For thy better memory.

Hear, then, and neglect me not!
At this time, and on this spot,

The words are uttered from my heart,
As my last earnest prayer ere we depart.

On good service we are going
Life to risk by sea and land,

In which course if Christ our Saviour
Do my sinful soul demand,

Hither come thou back straightway,
Hubert, if alive that day;

Return, and sound the Horn, that we
May have a living House still left in thee!"

"Fear not," quickly answered Hubert;
"As I am thy Father's son,

What thou askest, noble Brother,
With God's favour shall be done."
So were both right well content :
From the Castle forth they went.
And at the head of their Array

To Palestine the Brothers took their way.

Side by side they fought (the Lucies
Were a line for valour famed)
And where'er their strokes alighted,
There the Saracens were tamed.

Whence, then, could it come

By what evil spirit brought?

the thought

Oh! can a brave Man wish to take

His Brother's life, for Lands' and Castle's sake?

"Sir!" the Ruffians said to Hubert,
"Deep he lies in Jordan flood."
Stricken by this ill assurance,
Pale and trembling Hubert stood.
“Take your earnings.” — Oh! that I
Could have seen my Brother die !
It was a pang that vexed him then;
And oft returned, again, and yet again.
Months passed on, and no Sir Eustace!
Nor of him were tidings heard.
Wherefore, bold as day, the Murderer
Back again to England steered.
To his Castle Hubert sped;
He has nothing now to dread.

But silent and by stealth he came,

And at an hour which nobody could name.

None could tell if it were night-time,
Night or day, at even or morn ;
For the sound was heard by no one
Of the proclamation-horn.

But bold Hubert lives in glee:

Months and years went smilingly;
With plenty was his table spread;

And bright the Lady is who shares his bed.

Likewise he had Sons and Daughters;

And, as good men do, he sate

At his board by these surrounded,
Flourishing in fair estate.

And while thus in open day

Once he sate, as old books say,

A blast was uttered from the Horn, Where by the Castle-gate it hung forlorn.

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