Her own lute thou wilt see; no time to spare, Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
On such a catering trust my dizzy head. And on her hair a glory, like a saint ;
Wait here, my child, with patience kneel in She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest,

Save wings, for heaven. Porphyro grew faint: The while. Ah! thou must needs the lady wed, She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal Or may I never leave my grave among the dead." taint.


Anon his heart revives ; her vespers done,
So saying, she hobbled off with busy fear.
The lover's endless minutes slowly passed :

Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees ;

Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one ;
The dame returned, and whispered in his ear
To follow her ; with aged eyes aghast

Loosens her fragrant bodice ; by degrees

Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees; From fright of dim espial. Safe at last,

Half hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, Through many a dusky gallery, they gain The maiden's chamber, silken, hushed and Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, chaste;

In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,

But dares not look behind, or all the charm is Where Porphyro took covert, pleased amain.

fled. His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain.

Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, Her faltering hand upon the balustrade,

In sort of wakeful swoon, perplexed she lay, Old Angela was feeling for the stair,

Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppressed

Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away ; When Madeline, St. Agnes' charmed maid, Rose, like a missioned spirit, unaware ;

Flown like a thought, until the morrow-day ; With silver taper's light, and pious care,

Blissfully havened both from joy and pain ; She turned, and down the aged gossip led

Clasped like a missal where swart Paynims pray ;

Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, To a safe level matting. Now prepare, Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed! As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again. She comes, she comes again, like a ring.dove frayed and fled. XXIII.

Stolen to this paradise, and so entranced,

Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress, Out went the taper as she hurried in ;

And listened to her breathing, if it chanced Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died ;

To wake into a slumberous tenderness ; She closed the door, she panted, all akin

Which when he heard, that minute did he bless, To spirits of the air, and visions wide ;

And breathed himself; then from the closet crept, Xo uttered syllable, or, woe betide !

Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness, But to her heart, her heart was voluble,

And over the hushed carpet, silent, stept, Paining with eloquence her balmy side ;

And 'tween the curtains peeped, where, lo!- how As though a tongueless nightingale should swell

fast she slept. Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stilled in her dell. XXIV.

Then by the bedside, where the faded moon

Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set A casement high and triple-arched there was,

A table, and, half anguished, threw thereon
All garlanded with carven imageries
Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, O for some drowsy Morphean amulet !

A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet :
And diamonded with panes of quaint device,
Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,

The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,

The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet, As are the tiger-moth's deep-damasked wings;

Affray his ears, though but in dying tone :And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries,

The hall-doorshuts again, and all the noise is gone. And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, A shielded scutcheon blushed with blood of queens and kings.

And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,

In blanched linen, smooth, and lavendered ; Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,

While he from forth the closet brought a heap And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd; As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon ; | With jellies soother than the creamy curd,












And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon ; 10, leave me not in this eternal woe,
Manna and dates, in argosy transferred

For if thou diest, my love, I krow not where to go."
From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,
From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon.

Beyond a mortal man impassioned far

At these voluptuous accents, he arose, These delicates he heaped with glowing hand

Ethereal, flushed, and like a throbbing star On gelden dishes and in baskets bright

Seen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose ; Of wreathed silver. Sumptuous they stand

Into her dream he melted, as the rose In the retired quiet of the night,

Blendeth its odor with the violet,Filling the chilly room with perfume light.

Solution sweet ; meantime the frost-wind blows And now, my love, my seraph fair awake!

Like love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite ; Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache.”

'T is dark; quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet;

“This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline !" Thus whispering, his warm, unnervéd arm 'T is dark; the iced gusts still rave and beat : Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream “No dream, alas ! alas ! and woe is mine! By the dusk curtains ; — 't was a midnight charm Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine. — Impossible to melt as iced stream :

Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring? The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam; I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine, Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies ; Though thou forsakest a deceived thing; It seemed he never, never could redeem

A dove forlorn and lost, with sick, unpruned wing." From such a steadfast spell his lady's eyes ;

XXXVIII. So mused awhile, entoiled in woofed phantasies.

“My Madeline ! sweet dreamer ! lovely bride!

Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest ? Awakening up, he took her hollow lute, Thy beauty's shield, heart-shaped and verneil Tumultuous, — and, in chords that tenderest be,

dyed ? He played an ancient ditty, long since mute,

Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest In Provence called "La belle dame sans mercy” ; After so many hours of toil and quest, Close to her ear touching the melody ;

A famished pilgrim, - saved by miracle. Wherewith disturbed, she uttered a soft moan;

Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest, He ceased — she panted quick — and suddenly Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone ;

To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel. Upon his knees he sank, pale assmooth-sculptured stone.

They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall !

Like phantoms to the iron porch they glide, Her eyes were open, but she still beheld,

Where lay the porter, in uneasy sprawl, Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep.

With a huge empty flagon by his side ; There was a painful change, that nigh expelled

The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,
The blisses of her dream so pure and deep;
At which fair Madeline began to weep,

But his sagacious eye an inmate owns ;
And moan forth witless words with many a sigh; The chains lie silent on the foot worn stones ;

By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide ;
While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep.

The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans. Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye, Fearing to move or speak, she looked so dreamingly.

And they are gone! ay, ages long ago

These lovers fled away into the storm. Ah, Porphyro !" said she, “but even now

That night the baron dreamt of many a woe, Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,

And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form Made tunable with every sweetest vow ;

Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm, And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear ;

Were long be-nightmared. Angela the old How changed thou art ! how pallid, chill, and Died palsy-twitched, with meagre face deform ; drear !

The beadsman, after thousand aves told, Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,

For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold. Those looks immortal, those complainings dear !




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THOU HAST SWORN BY THY GOD, MY | Sprinkled with pearl, and pearling flowers atween, JEANIE.

Do like a golden mantle her attire ;

And being crowned with a garland green,
Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, Seem like some maiden qucen.
By that pretty white hand o' thine,

Her modest eyes, abashed to behold
And by a' the lowing stars in heaven,

So many gazers as on her do stare, That thou wad aye be mine!

Upon the lowly ground affixed are ; And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie,

Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold, And by that kind heart o' thine,

But blush to hear her praises sung so loud, By a' the stars sown thick owre heaven,

So far from being proud. That thou shalt aye be mine?

Nathless do ye still loud her praises sing,

That all the woods mayanswer, and your echo ring. Then foul fa' the hands that wad loose sic bands,

And the heart that wad part sic luve ! Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did ye see
But there's nae hand can loose my band, So fair a creature in your town before ?
But the finger o' Him abuve.

So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she,
Though the wee, wee cot maun be my bield, Adorned with Beauty's grace and Virtue's store ?
And my claithing ne'er sae mean,

Her goodly eyes like sapphires, shining bright, I wad lap me up rich i' the faulus o' luve, - Her forehead ivory white, Heaven's armfu' o' my Jean.

Her cheeks like apples which the sun hath rudded,

Her lips like cherries charming men to bite, Her white arm wad be a pillow for me,

Her breast like to a bowl of cream uncrudded, Fu' safter than the down ;

Her paps like lilies budded, And Luve wad winnow owre us his kind, kind Her snowy neck like to a marble tower ; , wings,

And all her body like a palace fair, And sweetly I'd sleep, and soun'.

Ascending up with many a stately stair Come here to me, thou lass o' my luve !

To Honor's seat and Chastity's sweet bower. Come here and kneel wi' me !

Why stand ye still, ye virgins, in amaze, The morn is fu' o' the presence o' God,

Upon her so to gaze, And I canna pray without thee.

Whilst ye forget your former lay to sing, The morn wind is sweet 'mang the beds o' new Towhich the woodsdid answer, and your echo ring.

The wee birds sing kindlie and hie ;
Our gudeman leans owre his kale-yard dike,

And a blythe auld bodie is he.
The Beuk maun be ta'en whan the carle comes THERE are who say the lover's heart

Is in the loved one's merged ;
Wi' the holy psalmodie ;

O, never by love's own warm art And thou maun speak o' me to thy God,

So cold a plea was urged ! And I will speak o' thee.

No !-hearts that love hath crowned or crossed,

Love fondly knits together ;
But not a thought or hue is lost

That made a part of either.

It is an ill-told tale that tells
Lo! where she comes along with portly pace, Of “hearts by love made one";
Like Phrebe from her chamber of the east,

He grows who near another's dwells
Arising forth to run her mighty race,

More conscious of his own ; Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best. In each spring up new thoughts and powers So well it her beseems, that ye would ween

That, mid love's


clear weather, Some angel she had been.

Together tend like climbing flowers, Her long, loose yellow locks, like golden wire, And, turning, grow together.



Such fictions blink love's better part,

Giver of all things fair, but fairest this Yield up its half of bliss ;

Of all thy gifts, nor enviest. I now see The wells are in the neighbor heart

Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myself When there is thirst in this :

Before me; Woman is her name, of man There findeth love the passion-flowers Extracted : for this cause he shall forego On which it learns to thrive,

Father and mother, and to his wife adhere ; Makes honey in another's bowers,

And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul.' But brings it home to hive.

She heard me thus, and though divinely

brought, Love's life is in its own replies,

Yet innocence and virgin modesty, To each low beat it beats,

Her virtue and the conscience of her worth, Smiles back the smiles, sighs back the sighs, That would be wooed, and not unsought be

And every throb repeats.
Then, since one loving heart still throws

Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired,
Two shadows in love's sun,

The more desirable ; or, to say all, How should two loving hearts compose

Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought, And mingle into one ?

Wrought in her so, that, seeing me, she turned :

I followed her; she what was honor knew,
And with obsequious majesty approved

My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower

I led her blushing like the morn : all Heaven,

And happy constellations on that hour MINE eyes he closed, but open left the cell Shed their selectest influence ; the earth Of fancy, my internal sight, by which

Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill ; Abstract, as in a trance, methought I saw, Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airs Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shape Whispered it to the woods, and from their Still glorious before whom awake I stood ;

wings Who, stooping, opened my left side, and took

Flung rose, Alung odors from the spicy shrub, From thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm, Disporting, till the amorous bird of night And life-blood streaming fresh ; wide was the Sung spousal, and bid haste the evening star wound,

On his hill-top, to light the bridal lamp.
But suddenly with flesh filled up and healed :
The rib he formed and fashioned with his hands;

When I approach Under his forming hands a creature grew, Her loveliness, so absolute she seems, Manlike, but different sex, so lovely fair, And in herself complete, so well to know That what seemed fair in all the world seemed Her own, that what she wills to do or say

Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best; Mean, or in her summed up, in her contained All higher knowledge in her presence falls And in her looks, which from that time infused Degraded, wisdom in discourse with her Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before,

Loses discountenanced, and like folly shows; And into all things from her air inspired Authority and reason on her wait, The spirit of love and amorous delight.

As one intended first, not after made She disappeared, and left me dark ; I waked

Occasionally ; and, to consummate all, To find her, or forever to deplore

Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat
Her loss, and other pleasures all abjure : Build in her loveliest, and create an awe
When out of hope, behold her, not far off, About her, as a guard angelic placed."
Such as I saw her in my dream, adorned
With what all earth or Heaven could bestow Neither her outside formed so fair, nor aught
To make her amiable. On she came,

In procreation common to all kinds,
Led by her heavenly Maker, though unseen,
And guided by his voice, nor uninformed

So much delights me, as those graceful acts,
Of nuptial sanctity and marriage rites : Those thousand decencies that daily flow
Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye, From all her words and actions, mixed with love
In every gesture dignity and love.

And sweet compliance, which declare unseigned I, overjoyed, could not forbear aloud :

Union of mind, or in us both one soul ; “This turn hath made amends; thou hast Harmony to behold in wedded pair fulfilled

More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. Thy words, Creator bounteous and benign,

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Along Glengariff's sea;

And crowds in many a galley

To the happy marriage rally

Of the maiden of the valley
ALICE was a chieftain's daughter, And the youth of Céim-an-eich ;
And though many suitors sought her, Old eyes with joy are weeping, as all ask on
She so loved Glengariff's water

bended knee, That she let her lovers pine.

A blessing, gentle Alice, upon thee.
Her eye was beauty's palace,
And her cheek an ivory chalice,

Through which the blood of Alice
Gleamed soft as rosiest wine,

TO A LADY BEFORE MARRIAGE. And her lips like lusmore blossoms which the fairies intertwine,

O, FORMED by Nature, and refined by Art, And her heart a golden mine.

With charms to win, and sense to fix the heart !
By thousands sought, Clotilda, canst thou free

Thy crowd of captives and descend to me?
She was gentler and shyer

Content in shades obscure to waste thy life,
Than the light fawn which stood by her,

A hidden beauty and a country wife?
And her eyes emit a fire

0, listen while thy summers are my theme ! Soft and tender as her soul ;

Ah ! soothe thy partner in his waking dream !
Love's dewy light doth drown her,

In some small hamlet on the lonely plain,
And the braided locks that crown her

Where Thames through meadows rolls his mazy
Than autumn's trees are browner,

train, When the golden shadows roll

Or where high Windsor, thick with greens arrayed, Through the forests in the evening, when cathe. Waves his old oaks, and spreads his ample shade, dral turrets toll,

Fancy has figured out our calm retreat ; And the purple sun advanceth to its goal.

Already round the visionary seat

Our limes begin to shoot, our flowers to spring, Her cottage was a dwelling

The brooks to murmur, and the birds to sing. All regal homes excelling,

Where dost thou lie, thou thinly peopled green, But, ah ! beyond the telling

Thou nameless lawn, and village yet unseen, Was the beauty round it spread,

Where sons, contented with their native ground, The wave and sunshine playing,

Ne'er travelled further than ten furlongs round, Like sisters each arraying,

And the tanned peasant and his ruddy bride Far down the sea-plants swaying

Were born together, and together died, Upon their coral bed,

Where early larks best tell the morning light, And languid as the tresses on a sleeping maiden's And only Philomel disturbs the night? head,

Midst gardens here my humble pile shall riso, When the summer breeze is dead.

With sweets surrounded of ten thousand dyes ;
All savage where th' embroidered gardens end,

The haunt of echoes, shall my woods ascend ;
Need we say that Maurice loved her, Andoh! if Heaven th'ambitious thought approve,
And that no blush reproved her,

A rill shall warble 'cross the gloomy grove, When her throbbing bosom moved her A little rill, o'er pebbly beds conveyed, To give the heart she gave ?

Gush down the steep, and glitterthrough the glade. That by dawn-light and by twilight, Whatcheering scents these bordering banksexhale! And, O blessed moon, by thy light, How loud that heifer lows from yonder vale !

When the twinkling stars on high light That thrush how shrill ! his note so clear, so high, The wanderer o'er the wave,

He drowns each feathered minstrel of the sky. His steps unconscious led him where Glengaristos Here let me trace beneath the purpled morn waters lave

The deep-mouthed beagle and the sprightly horn, Each mossy bank and cave.

Or lure the trout with well-dissembled flies,
Or fetch the fluttering partridge from the skies.

Nor shall thy hand disdain to crop the vine,
The sun his gold is flinging,

The downy peach, or flavored nectarine ;
The happy birds are singing,

Or rob the beehive of its golden hoard,
And bells are gayly ringing

And bear th' unbought luxuriance to thy board.




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