The Lay of Marie - And Vignettes in Verse | Page 7

for the arrow and the lance,
Bore not unharm'd my smiling
glance;
At other times collected, brave,
Recoiled when I that picture
gave;
As if their inmost heart, laid bare,
Shrank from the bleak,
ungenial air.
"Proud of such prescience, on I went;--
The youthful monarch was
content.
'Edgar de Langton, take this ring--
No! hither the young
Minstrel bring:
Ourself can better still dispense
The honour and the
recompence.'
I came, and, trembling, bent my knee.
He wonder'd
that my looks were meek,
That blushes burnt upon my cheek!
'We
would our little songstress see!
Remove those tresses! raise thy head!

Say, where is former courage fled,
'That all must now thy face
infold?
At distance they were backward roll'd.
Whence, then, this
most unfounded fear?
Are we so strange, so hateful here?'
"I strove in vain to lift my eyes,
And made some indistinct replies;

When one, more courteous and more kind,
Stepp'd forth to save my
fainting mind.
'My liege, have pity! for, in truth,
It is too hard upon
her youth.
Though so alert and fleet in song,
The strain was high,
the race was long;

And she before has never seen
A monarch, save
the fairy queen:
But does the lure of thought obey
As falcons their
appointed way;
Train'd to one end, and wild as those
If aught they
know not interpose.
Vain then is strength, and skill is vain,
Either to
lead them or restrain.
The eye-lid closes, and the heart,
Low-sinking,

plays a traitor's part;
While wings, of late so firmly spread,
Hang
flagg'd and powerless as the dead!
With courts familiar from our birth,

Is it fit subject for our mirth,
That thus awakening from her theme,

Where she through air and sea pursues,
And all things governs, all
subdues,
(Like fetter'd captive in a dream,)
Blindly to tread on
unknown land,
Without a guide or helping hand,
No previous usage
to befriend,
(As well we might an infant lend
Our eyes' experience,
ear, or touch!)
Can we in reason wonder much,
Her steps are
tottering and unsure
Where we have learnt to walk secure?
Is it not
true, what I have told?'
Her paus'd, my features to behold--
Earl
William paus'd: across his mien
A strong and sudden change was
seen,
The courtier bend, protecting tone.
And smile of sympathy,
were gone.
Abrupt his native accents broke,
And his lips trembled
as he spoke.
"'How thus can Memory, in its flight,
On wings of gossamer alight,

Nor showing aim, nor leaving trace,
From a poor damsel's living face

To features of a brave, dead knight!
In eyes so young, and so
benign,
What is it speaks of Palestine?
Of toils in early life I prov'd,

And of a comrade dearly lov'd!
'Tis true, he, like this maid, was
young,
And gifted with a tuneful tongue!
His looks [Errata: locks],
like her's, were bright and fair, But light and laughing was his eye;

The prophecy of future care
In those thin, helmet lids we spy,

Veiling mild orbs, of changeful hue,
Where auburn half subsides in
blue!
Lord Fauconberg, canst thou divine
What is the curve, or
what the line,

That makes this girl, like lightning, send
Looks of our
long lamented friend?
If Richard liv'd, that sorcery spell
Quickly
his lion-heart would quell:
He never could her glance descry,
And
any wish'd-for boon deny!
She's weeping too!--most strangely
wrought
By workings of another's thought!
She knows no English;
yet I speak
That language, and her paling cheek
With watery floods
is overcast.--
Fair maid, we talk of times long past;
A friend we
often mourn in vain--
A knight in distant battle slain,
Whose bones

had moulder'd in the earth
Full many a year before thy birth.
He fed
our ears with songs of old,
And one was of a heart of gold,--
A
native ditty I would fain,
But never yet could hear again.
It spoke of
friendship like his own,
Once only in existence known.
My prime
of life the blessing crost,
And with it life's first charm I lost!'
"'Chieftain, allow me, on my knee
To sing that English song to thee!

For then I never dare to stand,
Nor take the harp within my hand;

Sacred it also is to me!
And it should please thy fancy well,
Since
dear the lips from whence it fell;
'And dear the language which
conveys
The only theme of real praise!
O! if in very truth thou art

A mourner for that loyal heart,
A lowly minstrel maid forgive,
Who
strives to make remembrance live!'
SONG.
"'Betimes my heritage was sold
To buy this heart of solid gold.
Ye
all, perchance, have jewels fine,
But what are such compar'd to mine?

O! they are formal, poor, and cold,
And out of fashion when they're
old;--
But this is of unchanging ore,
And every day is valued more.

Not all the eye could e'er behold
Should purchase back this heart of
gold.
"'How oft its temper has been tried!
Its noble nature purified!
And
still it from the furnace came
Uninjur'd by the subtil flame.
Like
truth itself, pale, simple, pure,
Yielding, yet fitted to endure,--
No
rust, no tarnish can arise,
To hide its lustre from our eyes;
And this
world's choicest gift I hold,
While I can keep my heart of gold.
"'Whatever treasure may be lost,
Whatever project may be crost,


Whatever other boon denied,
The amulet I long have tried
Has still
a sweet, attractive power
To draw the confidential hour,--
That hour
for weakness and for grief,
For true condolement, full belief!
O! I
can never feel