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Alas! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison truth;
And constancy lives in realms above; 410
And life is thorny; and youth is vain ;
And to be wroth with one we love
Doth work like madness in the brain.
And thus it chanced, as I divine,
With Roland and Sir Leoline.
Each spake words of high disdain
And insult to his heart's best brother :
They parted-ne'er to meet again!
But never either found another

To free the hollow heart from paining

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Again she saw that bosom old,
Again she felt that bosom cold,
And drew in her breath with a hissing
sound:

Whereat the Knight turned wildly round,

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They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder; And nothing saw, but his own sweet

A dreary sea now flows between.

But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween,

The marks of that which once hath been.

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maid

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Yet he, who saw this Geraldine,
Had deemed her sure a thing divine.
Such sorrow with such grace she blended,
As if she feared she had offended
Sweet Christabel, that gentle maid!
And with such lowly tones she prayed 480
She might be sent without delay
Home to her father's mansion.

“Nay !

Nay, by my soul !' said Leoline. Ho! Bracy the bard, the charge be thine !

Go thou, with music sweet and loud, And take two steeds with trappings proud,

And take the youth whom thou lov'st best

To bear thy harp, and learn thy song,
And clothe you both in solemn vest,
And over the mountains haste along, 490
Lest wandering folk, that are abroad,
Detain you on the valley road.

'And when he has crossed the Irthing flood,

My merry bard! he hastes, he hastes
Up Knorren Moor, through Halegarth
Wood,

And reaches soon that castle good
Which stands and threatens Scotland's

wastes.

'Bard Bracy! bard Bracy! your horses

are fleet,

Ye must ride up the hall, your music so sweet,

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More loud than your horses' echoing And what the sweet bird's trouble meant,

feet! 500 And loud and loud to Lord Roland call, Thy daughter is safe in Langdale hall ! Thy beautiful daughter is safe and freeSir Leoline greets thee thus through me. He bids thee come without delay With all thy numerous array; And take thy lovely daughter home: And he will meet thee on the way With all his numerous array White with their panting palfreys' foam : And, by mine honour! I will say, That I repent me of the day

When I spake words of fierce disdain

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That thus lay fluttering on the ground.
I went and peered, and could descry
No cause for her distressful cry;
But yet for her dear lady's sake
I stooped, methought, the dove to
take,

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When lo! I saw a bright green snake
Coiled around its wings and neck.
Green as the herbs on which it couched,
Close by the dove's its head it crouched;
And with the dove it heaves and stirs,
Swelling its neck as she swelled hers!
I woke; it was the midnight hour,
The clock was echoing in the tower;

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Why is thy cheek so wan and wild,
Sir Leoline? Thy only child
Lies at thy feet, thy joy, thy pride,
So fair, so innocent, so mild;
The same, for whom thy lady died!
O, by the pangs of her dear mother
Think thou no evil of thy child !
For her, and thee, and for no other,
She prayed the moment ere she died:
Prayed that the babe for whom she died,
Might prove her dear lord's joy and
pride!
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That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled,
Sir Leoline!

And wouldst thou wrong thy only child,
Her child and thine?

Within the Baron's heart and brain
If thoughts, like these, had any share,
They only swelled his rage and pain,
And did but work confusion there.
His heart was cleft with pain and rage,
His cheeks they quivered, his eyes were
wild,
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Dishonour'd thus in his old age;

Dishonour'd by his only child, And all his hospitality

To the insulted daughter of his friend
By more than woman's jealousy
Brought thus to a disgraceful end—
He rolled his eye with stern regard
Upon the gentle minstrel bard,

And said in tones abrupt, austere 650
'Why, Bracy! dost thou loiter here?
I bade thee hence!' The bard obeyed;
And turning from his own sweet maid,
The aged knight, Sir Leoline,
Led forth the lady Geraldine ! 1801.

THE CONCLUSION

TO PART THE SECOND

A little child, a limber elf,
Singing, dancing to itself,

है

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A fairy thing with red round cheeks,
That always finds, and never seeks,
Makes such a vision to the sight
As fills a father's eyes with light;
And pleasures flow in so thick and fast
Upon his heart, that he at last
Must needs express his love's excess
With words of unmeant bitterness.
Perhaps 'tis pretty to force together
Thoughts so all unlike each other;
To mutter and mock a broken charm,
To dally with wrong that does no harm.
Perhaps 'tis tender too and pretty
At each wild word to feel within

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A sweet recoil of love and pity.
And what, if in a world of sin
(O sorrow and shame should this be true!)
Such giddiness of heart and brain
Comes seldom save from rage and pain,
So talks as it's most used to do. ? 1801.

FRANCE: AN ODE

I

YE Clouds! that far above me float and pause,

Whose pathless march no mortal may controul !

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Though dear her shores and circling

ocean,

Then I reproached my fears that would not flee ;

Though many friendships, many youthful And soon,' I said, 'shall Wisdom

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To all that braved the tyrant-quelling Till Love and Joy look round, and call

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With that sweet music of deliverance And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain

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A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's One thought that ever blessed your cruel

dream!

Ye storms, that round the dawning east assembled,

The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!'

And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled,

foes!

To scatter rage and traitorous guilt Where Peace her jealous home had built; A patriot-race to disinherit

Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear;

And with inexpiable spirit

The dissonance ceased, and all seemed To taint the bloodless freedom of the

calm and bright;

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mountaineer

When France her front deep-scarr'd O France, that mockest Heaven, adul

and gory

Concealed with clustering wreaths of

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