INTRODUCTION TO THE TALE OF THE DARK LADIE. O LEAVE the lily on its stem; A cypress and a myrtle bough Its murmurs in the wind. And now a tale of love and woe, But most, my own dear Genevieve, *Here followed the Stanzas, afterwards published separately under the title "Love," (see p. 238,) and after them came the other three stanzas printed above; the whole forming the introduction to the intended Dark Ladie, of which all that exists is subjoined. And now, once more a tale of woe, When last I sang the cruel scorn, I promised thee a sister tale, Of man's perfidious cruelty; Come then, and hear what cruel wrong THE BALLAD OF THE DARK LADIE. A FRAGMENT. BENEATH yon birch with silver bark, And there upon the moss she sits, The Dark Ladie in silent pain; The heavy tear is in her eye, And drops and swells again. Three times she sends her little page The sun was sloping down the sky, She hears a rustling o'er the brook, She springs, she clasps him round the neck, Her kisses glowing on his cheeks "My friends with rude ungentle words "My Henry, I have given thee much, I gave what I can ne'er recall, I gave my heart, I gave my peace, O Heaven! I gave thee all." The Knight made answer to the Maid, "The fairest one shall be my love's, Wait only till the stars peep out, "Wait only till the hand of eve "The dark? the dark? No! not the dark? The twinkling stars? How, Henry? How? O God! 'twas in the eye of noon He pledged his sacred vow! "And in the eye of noon, my love, Shall lead me from my mother's door, Sweet boys and girls all clothed in white "But first the nodding minstrels go "And then my love and I shall pace, My jet black hair in pearly braids, Between our comely bachelors And blushing bridal maids." If thou wert here, these tears were tears of light! But from as sweet a vision did I start And though I weep, yet still around my heart A sweet and playful tenderness doth linger, Touching my heart as with an infant's finger. My mouth half open, like a witless man, I saw our couch, I saw our quiet room, Its shadows heaving by the fire-light gloom; And o'er my lips a subtle feeling ran, All o'er my lips a soft and breeze-like feelingI know not what-but had the same been stealing |