XLVIII. As one that museth where broad sunshine laver XLIX. Within, and anthem sung, is charmed and tied To where he stands,-so stood I, when that flow Of music left the lips of her that died To save her father's vow; L. The daughter of the warrior Gileadite, A maiden pure; as when she went along From Mizpeh's towered gate with welcome light, With timbrel and with song, LI. My words leapt forth: "Heaven heads the count of crimes With that wild oath." She rendered answer high: "Not so, nor once alone; a thousand times I would be born and die. LII. ་ "Single I grew, like some green plant, whose root Creeps to the garden water-pipes beneath, Feeding the flower: but ere my flower to fruit Changed, I was ripe for death. LIII. "My God, my land, my father-these did move LIV. And I went mourning, 'No fair Hebrew boy Shall smile away my maiden blame among Ahe Hebrew mothers,'-emptied of all joy, Leaving the dance and song. LV. "Leaving the olive-gardens far below, Leaving the promise of my bridal bower, The valleys of grape-loaded vines that glow Beneath the battled tower. LVI. "The light white cloud swam over us. Anon We heard the lion roaring from his den; We saw the large white stars rise one by one, Or, from the darkened glen, LVII. "Saw God divide the night with flying flame, I heard Him, for He spake, and grief became LVIII. "When the next moon was rolled into the sky, Strength came to me that equalled my desire How beautiful a thing it was to die For God and for my sire! LIX. "It comforts me in this one thought to dwell, LX. "Moreover, it is written that my race Hewed Ammon, hip and thigh, from Aroer On Arnon unto Minneth." Here her face LXI. She locked her lips: she left me where I stood: LXII. Losing her carol I stood pensively, As one that from a casement leans his head, When midnight bells cease ringing suddenly, And the old year is dead. LXIII. "Alas! alas!" a low voice, full of care, LXIV. Would I had been some maiden coarse and Those dragon eyes of angered Eleanor LXV. poor She ceased in tears, fallen from hope and trust: LXVI. With that sharp sound the white dawn's creeping beams, Stolen to my brain, dissolved the mystery Of folded sleep. The captain of my dreams Ruled in the eastern sky. LXVII. Morn broadened on the borders of the dark, LXVIII. Or her, who knew that Love can vanquish Death, Who kneeling, with one arm about her king, Drew forth the poison with her balmy breath, Sweet as new buds in Spring. LXIX. No memory labors longer from the deep LXX. Each little sound and sight. With what dull pain LXXI. As when a soul laments, which hath been blest, In yearnings that can never be exprest LXXII. Because all words, though culled with choicest art, Wither beneath the palate, and the heart Ꮇ Ꭺ Ꭱ Ꮐ Ꭺ Ꭱ Ꭼ Ꭲ . O SWEET pale Margaret, What lit your eyes with tearful power, Of pensive thought and aspect pale, From all things outward you have won A tearful grace, as though you stood Between the rainbow and the sun. The very smile before you speak, Of dainty sorrow without sound, You love, remaining peacefully, To hear the murmur of the strife, Your spirit is the calmed sea, Laid by the tumult of the fight. You are the evening star, alway Remaining betwixt dark and bright: Lulled echoes of laborious day Come to you, gleams of mellow light What can it matter, Margaret, What songs below the waning stars |