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And she is thoroughly forlorn :
And beneath a mouldered tree, A self-surviving leafless oak, By unregarded age from stroke Of ravage saved-sate Emily. There did she rest, with head reclined, Herself most like a stately flower, (Such have I seen) whom chance of birth Hath separated from its kind, To live and die in a shady bower, Single on the gladsome earth.
When, with a noise like distant thunder, A troop of deer came sweeping by: And, suddenly, behold a wonder! For, of that band of rushing deer, A single one in mid career Hath stopped, and fixed its large full eye Upon the Lady Emily, A doe most beautiful, clear white, A radiant creature, silver-bright!
Thus checked, a little while it stayed ; A little thoughtful pause it made; And then advanced with stealth-like pace, Drew softly near her-and more near, Stopped once again ;-but, as no trace Was found of anything to fear,
Even to her feet the creature came,
Oh, moment ever blest! O pair! Beloved of Heaven, Heaven's choicest care, This was for you a precious greeting,For both a bounteous fruitful meeting. Joined are they, and the sylvan doe, Can she depart? can she forego The lady, once her playful peer, And now her sainted mistress dear? And will not Emily receive This lovely chronicler of things Long past, delights and sorrowings? Lone sufferer! will not she believe The promise in that speaking face, And take this gift of Heaven with grace?
That day, the first of a reunion Which was to teem with high communion, That day of balmy April weather, They carried in the wood together. And when, ere fall of evening dew, She from this sylvan haunt withdrew, The white doe tracked with faithful pace
The lady to her dwelling-place;
When Emily by morning light Went forth, the doe was there in sight. She shrunk: with one frail shock of pain, Received and followed by a prayer, Did she behold-saw once again ; Shun will she not, she feels, will bear: But, wheresoever she looked round, All now was trouble-haunted ground. So doth the sufferer deem it good Even once again this neighbourhood To leave. Unwooed, yet unforbidden, The white doe followed up the vale, Up to another cottage-hidden In the deep fork of Amerdale ; And there may Emily restore Herself, in spots unseen before. Why tell of mossy rock, or tree, By lurking Denbrook's pathless side, Haunts of a strengthening amity That calmed her, cheered, and fortified ? For she hath ventured now to read Of time, and place, and thought, and deed, Endless history that lies In her silent follower's eyes! Who with a power like human reason Discerns the favourable season, Skilled to approach or to retire,
From looks conceiving her desire,
With her companion, in such frame Of mind, to Rylstone back she came; And, wandering through the wasted groves, Revived the memory of old loves,
Undisturbed and undistressed,
When the bells of Rylstone played Their Sabbath music—God us apde!' That was the sound they seemed to speak; Inscriptive legend, which I ween May on those holy bells be seen, That legend, and her grandsire's name; And oftentimes the lady meek Had in her childhood read the same, Words which she slighted at that day: But now, when such sad change was wrought, And of that lonely name she thought, The bells of Rylstone seemed to say, While she sat listening in the shade, With vocal music, . God us apde;' And all the hills were glad to bear Their part in this effectual prayer.
Nor lacked she reason's firmest power;