Poems of George Meredith, vol 1 | Page 4

had good cause
To have the creature "Nancy"
christened.'
He paused, and in the moment's pause,
His eyes and Willie's
strangely glistened.
Nearer came Joan, and Bessy hung
With face
averted, near enough
To hear, and sob unheard; the young
And
careless ones had scampered off
Meantime, and sought the loftiest
place
To beacon the approaching chase.

'Daily upon the meads to browse,
Goes Nancy with those dairy cows

You see behind the clematis:
And such a favourite she is,
That
when fatigued, and helter skelter,
Among them from her foes to
shelter,
She dashes when the chase is over,
They'll close her in and
give her cover,
And bend their horns against the hounds,
And low,
and keep them out of bounds!
From the house dogs she dreads no
harm,
And is good friends with all the farm,
Man, and bird, and
beast, howbeit
Their natures seem so opposite.
And she is known
for many a mile,
And noted for her splendid style,
For her clear leap
and quick slight hoof;
Welcome she is in many a roof.
And if I say,
I love her, man!
I say but little: her fine eyes full
Of memories of
my girl, at Yule
And May-time, make her dearer than
Dumb brute
to men has been, I think.
So dear I do not find her dumb.
I know her
ways, her slightest wink,
So well; and to my hand she'll come,

Sidelong, for food or a caress,
Just like a loving human thing.
Nor
can I help, I do confess,
Some touch of human sorrowing
To think
there may be such a doubt
That from the next world she'll be shut out,

And parted from me! And well I mind
How, when my girl's last
moments came,
Her soft eyes very soft and kind,
She joined her
hands and prayed the same,
That she "might meet her father, mother,

Sister Bess, and each dear brother,
And with them, if it might be,
one
Who was her last companion."
Meaning the fawn--the doe you
mark -
For my bay mare was then a foal,

And time has passed since
then:- but hark!'
For like the shrieking of a soul
Shut in a tomb, a darkened cry
Of
inward-wailing agony
Surprised them, and all eyes on each
Fixed in
the mute-appealing speech
Of self-reproachful apprehension:

Knowing not what to think or do:
But Joan, recovering first, broke
through
The instantaneous suspension,
And knelt upon the ground,
and guessed
The bitterness at a glance, and pressed
Into the comfort
of her breast
The deep-throed quaking shape that drooped
In
misery's wilful aggravation,
Before the farmer as he stooped,


Touched with accusing consternation:
Soothing her as she sobbed
aloud:-
'Not me! not me! Oh, no, no, no!
Not me! God will not take
me in!
Nothing can wipe away my sin!
I shall not see her: you will
go;
You and all that she loves so:
Not me! not me! Oh, no, no, no!'

Colourless, her long black hair,
Like seaweed in a tempest tossed

Tangling astray, to Joan's care
She yielded like a creature lost:

Yielded, drooping toward the ground,
As doth a shape one half-hour
drowned,
And heaved from sea with mast and spar,
All dark of its
immortal star.
And on that tender heart, inured
To flatter basest
grief, and fight
Despair upon the brink of night,
She suffered herself
to sink, assured
Of refuge; and her ear inclined
To comfort; and her
thoughts resigned
To counsel; her wild hair let brush
From off her
weeping brows; and shook
With many little sobs that took

Deeper-drawn breaths, till into sighs,
Long sighs, they sank; and to
the 'hush!'
Of Joan's gentle chide, she sought
Childlike to check
them as she ought,
Looking up at her infantwise.
And Willie,
gazing on them both,
Shivered with bliss through blood and brain,

To see the darling of his troth
Like a maternal angel strain
The
sinful and the sinless child
At once on either breast, and there
In
peace and promise reconciled
Unite them: nor could Nature's care

With subtler sweet beneficence
Have fed the springs of penitence,

Still keeping true, though harshly tried,
The vital prop of human
pride.
BEAUTY ROHTRAUT (From Moricke)
What is the name of King Ringang's daughter?

Rohtraut, Beauty
Rohtraut!
And what does she do the livelong day,
Since she dare
not knit and spin alway?
O hunting and fishing is ever her play!

And, heigh! that her huntsman I might be!
I'd hunt and fish right
merrily!
Be silent, heart!
And it chanced that, after this some time, -
Rohtraut, Beauty Rohtraut,
-
The boy in the Castle has gained access,
And a horse he has got

and a huntsman's dress,
To hunt and to fish with the merry Princess;

And, O! that a king's son I might be!
Beauty Rohtraut I love so
tenderly.
Hush! hush! my heart.
Under a grey old oak they sat,
Beauty, Beauty Rohtraut!
She laughs:
'Why look you so slyly at me?
If you have heart enough, come, kiss
me.'
Cried the breathless boy, 'kiss thee?'
But he thinks, kind
fortune has favoured my youth;
And thrice he has kissed Beauty
Rohtraut's mouth.
Down! down! mad heart.
Then slowly and silently they rode home, -
Rohtraut, Beauty Rohtraut!

The boy was lost in his delight:
'And, wert thou Empress this very
night,
I would not heed or feel the blight;
Ye thousand leaves of the
wild wood wist
How Beauty Rohtraut's mouth I kiss'd.
Hush! hush!
wild heart.'
THE OLIVE BRANCH
A dove flew with an Olive Branch;
It crossed the