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And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;

And the bride-maidens whispered, "Twere better by far,

To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,

When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that fol

low," quoth young Lochinvar.

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Giselia, would not look upon a man. So, bending his whole heart unto this end,

He watched and waited, trusting to stir to fire

The indolent interest in those large eyes,

And feel the languid hands beat in his own,

Ere the new spring. And well he played his part;

Slipping no chance to bribe, or brush aside,

All that would stand between him and the light;

Making fast foes in sooth, but feeble friends.

But what cared he, who had read of ladies' love,

And how young Launcelot gained his Guinevere;

A foundling too, or of uncertain strain?

And when one morning, coming from the bath,

He crossed the Princess on the palace-stair,

And kissed her there in her sweet disarray,

Nor met the death he dreamed of, in

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Seeking the Princess' door, such welcome found,

The knight forgot his prudence in his love;

For lying at her feet, her hands in his,

And telling tales of knightship and emprise,

And ringing war; while up the smooth white arm

His fingers slid insatiable of touch, The night grew old: still of the herodeeds

That he had seen, he spoke; and bitter blows

Where all the land seemed driven into dust!

Beneath fair Pavia's wall, where Loup beat down

The Longobard, and Charlemagne laid on,

Cleaving horse and rider; then, for dusty drought

Of the fierce tale, he drew her lips to his,

And silence locked the lovers fast and long,

Till the great bell crashed One into their dream.

The castle-bell! and Eginard not away!

With tremulous haste she led him to the door,

When, lo! the courtyard white with fallen snow,

While clear the night hung over it with stars.

A dozen steps, scarce that, to his own door:

A dozen steps? a gulf impassable! What to be done? Their secret

must not lie

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To greet these mummers," softly the window closed,

And so went back to his corn-tax again.

But, with the morn, the king a meeting called

Of all his lords, courtiers and kindred too,

And squire and dame, - in the great Audience Hall

Gathered; where sat the king, with the high crown

Upon his brow; beneath a drapery That fell around him like a cataract, With flecks of colour crossed and can

cellate;

And over this, like trees about a stream,

Rich carven-work, heavy with wreath and rose,

Palm and palmirah, fruit and frondage, hung.

And more the high Hall held of rare and strange;

For on the king's right hand Leana bowed

In cloudlike marble, and beside her crouched

The tongueless lioness; on the other side,

And poising this, the second Sappho stood,

Young Erexcéa, with her head discrowned,

The anadema on the horn .of her lyre;

And by the walls there hung in sequence long

Merlin himself, and Uterpendragon, With all their mighty deeds; down to the day

When all the world seemed lost in wreck and rout,

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A wrath of crashing steeds and men; and, in

The broken battle fighting hopelessly,

King Arthur, with the ten wounds on his head!

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