With accordant steps, or gathering Or whispering like two reeds that in the cold moonbeam Bend with the breeze their heads, beside a crystal stream. On a friendly deck reposing, They at length for Venice steer; There, when they had closed their voyage, Watch'd for tidings from the east, beheld his lord, Fell down and clasp'd his knees for joy, not uttering word. Mutual was the sudden transport; 'Hie thee to the countess, friend! return with speed, And of this stranger speak by whom her lord was freed. "Say that I, who might have languish'd, For a crowning recompense, the precious grace "Make it known that my companion Is of royal Eastern blood, Innocent, and meek, and good, Though with misbelievers bred; but that dark night Will Holy Church disperse by beams of gospel light." Swiftly went that gray-hair'd servant, Charged with greetings, benedictions, For a sunny thought to cheer the stranger's way, Fancy (while, to banners floating The devout embraces still, while such tears fell Through a haze of human nature, Look'd the beautiful deliverer On that overpowering sight, While across her virgin cheek pure blushes stray'd, On the ground the weeping countess Pledge of an eternal band: Nor did aught of future days that kiss belie, Constant to the fair Armenian, Reverenced, like a sister loved. Christian meekness smooth'd for all the path of life, Who loving most, should wiseliest love, their only strife. Mute memento of that union Where a cross-legg'd knight lies sculptured Figures with armorial signs of race and birth, earth. THE SOMNAMBULIST. LIST, ye who pass by Lyulph's tower Doth Aira force, that torrent hoarse, Fit music for a solemn vale! And holier seems the ground Not far from that fair site whereon As story says, in antique days, A stern-brow'd house appear'd; There set, and guarded well; To win this bright bird from her cage, Sir Eglamore was he; Full happy season, when was known, Known chiefly, Aira! to thy glen, Thy brook, and bowers of holly; Where passion caught what nature taught, That all but love is folly; Where fact with fancy stoop'd to play, Doubt came not, nor regret; But in old times love dwelt not long Best throve the fire of chaste desire, A pleasure house built by the late Duke of Norfolk upon the banks of Ullswater. Force is the word used in the Lake District for waterfall. They parted. Well with him it fared On woman's quiet hours; Though faint, compared with spear and shield, The solace beads and masses yield, And needle-work and flowers. Yet blest was Emma when she heard Her champion's praise recounted; Though brain would swim, and eyes grows dim, And high her blushes mounted; She warbled from full heart; Hope wanes with her, while lustre fills As if his orb, that owns no curb, Received the light hers loses. He comes not back; an ampler space He ranges on from place to place, But what her fancy breeds. His fame may spread, but in the past The tear in answer flows; Month falls on month with heavier weight; In sleep she sometimes walk'd abroad, Deep sighs with quick words blending, Like that pale queen whose hands are seen With fancied spots contending; But she is innocent of blood, The moon is not more pure That shines aloft, while through the wood Her melancholy lure! While 'mid the fern-brake sleeps the doe, In white array'd, glides on the maid, By whom on this still night descried? A wandering ghost, so thinks the knight, Hush, hush, the busy sleeper see! Perplex'd her fingers seem, Flung from her to the stream. What means the spectre? Why intent Thought Eglamore, by which I swore Here am I, and to-morrow's sun, To her I left, shall prove So from the spot whereon he stood, And whispers caught, and speeches small, Soul-shatter'd was the knight, nor knew Or boding shade, or if the maid He touch'd, what follow'd who shall tell? Of slumber-shrieking, back she fell, In plunged the knight! when on firm ground Her eyes grew bright with blissful light, Confusion pass'd away; She heard, ere to the throne of grace Her faithful spirit flew, His voice; beheld his speaking face, So was he reconciled to life; Brief words may speak the rest; And there was sorrow's guest; Wild stream of Aira, hold thy course, Where clouds that spread in solemn shade And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm- A single field which I have looked upon- Doth the same tale repeat. Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; And cometh from afar. But trailing clouds of glory, do we come But he beholds the light and whence it flows He sees it in his joy. The youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel still is Nature's priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the man perceives it die away, VI. Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own, Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind; And, even with something of a mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster-child, her inmate man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came. VII. Behold the child among his new-born blisses- A mourning or a funeral And this hath now his heart, To dialogues of business, love, or strife; Ere this be thrown aside, stage" "humorous With all the persons, down to palsied age, VIII. Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep Mighty prophet! Seer blest, On whom those truths do rest The years to bring the inevitable yoke, And custom lie upon thee with a weight IX. Oh joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That Nature yet remembers What was so fugitive! Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song! We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May! What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, [hour Which, having been, must ever be; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind. ΧΙ. And O ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves, The thought of our past years in me doth The clouds that gather round the setting sun breed Perpetual benediction: not, indeed, For that which is most worthy to be blest Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of childhood, whether busy or at rest, Do take a sober coloring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality: Another race hath been, and other palms are won. With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his Thanks to the human heart by which we live, breast Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings, Moving about in worlds not realized, High instincts, before which our mortal nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised- Uphold us, cherish, and have power to Our noisy years seem moments in the being Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Hence in a season of calm weather, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fearsTo me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. YARROW UNVISITED. FROM Stirling castle we had seen "Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town, "There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs, A blue sky bends o'er Yarrow vale, Though not unwilling here t' admit A pensive recollection. Where was it that the famous Flower Of Yarrow Vale lay bleeding? His bed perchance was yen smooth mound Delicious is the lay that sings But thou, that didst appear so fair Dost rival in the light of day Meek loveliness is round thee spread- The grace of forest charms decayed, That region left, the vale unfolds And, rising from those lofty groves, The shattered front of Newark's towers, Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom, For sportive youth to stray in; For manhood to enjoy his strength, And age to wear away in! Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss, A covert for protection Of tender thoughts that nestle there- How sweet, on this autumnal day, The sober hills thus deck their brows I see-but not by sight alone, And gladsome notes my lips can breathe, |