I told her how he pined; and ah ! She listen'd with a flitting blush, But when I told the cruel scorn That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, And that he cross'd the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night; That sometimes from the savage den, And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once In green and sunny glade There came and look'd him in the face And that, unknowing what he did, He leap'd amid a murderous band, 35 40 45 50 And saved from outrage worse than death 55 And how she wept, and clasp'd his knees And ever strove to expiate The scorn that crazed his brain; And that she nursed him in a cave, A dying man he lay; His dying words-but when I reach'd That tenderest strain of all the ditty, My faltering voice and pausing harp Disturb'd her soul with pity! 60 65 All impulses of soul and sense Had thrill'd my guileless Genevieve ; The rich and balmy eve; And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, Subdued and cherish'd long! She wept with pity and delight, She blush'd with love and virgin shame ; And, like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. Her bosom heaved-she stepp'd aside, She fled to me and wept. She half enclosed me with her arms, 'Twas partly love, and partly fear, I calm'd her fears, and she was calm, My bright and beauteous Bride. S. T. COLERIDGE. 169 ALL FOR LOVE O talk not to me of a name great in story; What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled ? 5 9 'Tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled: Then away with all such from the head that is hoaryWhat care I for the wreaths that can only give glory? O Fame !—if I e'er took delight in thy praises, "Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover She thought that I was not unworthy to love her. There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee; Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee; When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story, I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory. 170 THE OUTLAW LORD BYRON. O Brignall banks are wild and fair, And you may gather garlands there A Maiden on the castle-wall 'O Brignall banks are fresh and fair, 15 5 10 I'd rather rove with Edmund there If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me, Thou first must guess what life lead we 15 And if thou canst that riddle read, Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed 20 Yet sung she, Brignall banks are fair, 'I read you by your bugle-horn 25 30 His blast is heard at merry morn, And mine at dead of night.' Yet sung she, ‘Brignall banks are fair, I would I were with Edmund there 35 • With burnish'd brand and musketoon So gallantly you come, I read you for a bold Dragoon That lists the tuck of drum.' 40 'I list no more the tuck of drum, No more the trumpet hear ; But when the beetle sounds his hum And O! though Brignall banks be fair 45 Yet mickle must the maiden dare Would reign my Queen of May ! 'Maiden! a nameless life I lead, A nameless death I'll die ; 50 The fiend whose lantern lights the mead And when I'm with my comrades met What once we were we all forget, 55 Chorus Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And you may gather garlands there 60 SIR W. SCOTT. 171 There be none of Beauty's daughters And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me : When, as if its sound were causing And the midnight moon is weaving So the spirit bows before thee With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of Summer's ocean. LORD BYRON, 172 LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, Has led me-who knows how? To thy chamber-window, sweet! |