The Lay of Marie and Vignettes in Verse Part 4

My eye was quiet, and the while My lip maintain'd a steady smile.

It cost me much, alas! to feign; But while I struggled with the pain, With beauty stole upon my sight An inward feeling of delight.

"Long did the silken lashes lie Upon a dark and brilliant eye; Bright the wild rose's finest hue O'er a pure cheek of ivory flew.

Her smile, all plaintive and resign'd, Bespake a gentle, suffering mind; And e'en her voice, so clear and faint, Had something in it of complaint.

Her delicate and slender form, Like a vale-lily from the storm, Seem'd pensively to shrink away, More timid in a crowd so gay.

Large jewels glitter'd in her hair; And, on her neck, as marble fair, Lay precious pearls, in countless strings; Her small, white hands, emboss'd with rings, Announc'd high rank and amplest wealth, But neither freedom, power, nor health.

"Near her Sir Eustace took his stand, With manner sad, yet soft and bland; Spoke oft, but her replies were tame; And soon less frequent both became.

Their converse seem'd by labour wrought, Without one sweet, free-springing thought; Without those flashes of delight Which make it tender, deep, or bright!

It was not thus upon the sea He us'd to look and talk with me!

Not thus, when, lost to all around, His haughty kinsmen saw and frown'd!

Then all unfelt the world's controul,-- Its rein lay lightly o'er his soul; Far were its prides and cautions hurl'd, And Thought's wide banner flew unfurl'd.

"Yet we should do fair Osvalde wrong To cla.s.s her with the circling throng: Her mind was like a gentle sprite, Whose wings, though aptly form'd for flight, From cowardice are seldom spread; Who folds the arms, and droops the head; Stealing, in pilgrim guise along, With needless staff, and vestment grey, It scarcely trills a vesper song Monotonous at close of day.

Cross but its path, demanding aught, E'en what its pensive mistress sought, Though forward welcoming she hied, And its quick footstep glanc'd aside.

"Restraint, alarms, and solitude, Her early courage had subdu'd; Fetter'd her movements, looks, and tongue, While on her heart more weighty hung Each griev'd resentment, doubt, and pain, Each dread of anger or disdain.

A deeper sorrow also lent The sharpen'd pang of discontent; For unconceal'd attachment prov'd Destructive to the man she lov'd.

"Owning, like her, an orphan's doom, He had not that prescriptive home Which wealth and royal sanction buys; No powerful friends, nor tender ties;-- No claims, save former promise given, Whose only witness was in heaven; And promise takes a slender hold, Where all is selfish, dull, and cold.

"Slowly that bloomless favour grew, Before his stern protectors knew The secret which arous'd disdain.

Declaring that he did but feign, They, in unpitying vengeance, hurl'd A sister's offspring on the world.

Thus outrag'd, pride's corroding smart, The fever of a throbbing heart, Impell'd him first to wander round, And soon to leap that barrier ground, And seek the arch'd, embowering way, In which her steps were wont to stray.

"No sleep his heavy eyes could close, Nor restless memory find repose, Nor hope a plan on which to rest, In the wild tumult of a breast With warring pa.s.sions deeply fraught.

To see her was his only thought; Feel once again the tones that sprung So oft to that endearing tongue, Flow on his heart; desponding, faint, But too indignant for complaint; Say how completely he resign'd All former influence o'er her mind, Where it was better to destroy Each vestige of their days of joy.

To breathe her name he would not dare, Except in solitude and prayer!

'Beyond belief I love, adore, But never will behold thee more!'

Thus thinking o'er each purpose high, Tears gather'd blinding in his eye; And bitter, uncontroul'd regret Exclaim'd, 'Why have we ever met?'

"These conflicts and these hopes were fled; Alas! poor youth! his blood, was shed, Before the feet of Osvalde trod Again on the empurpled sod.

No voice had dar'd to tell the tale; But she had many a boding thrill, For dumb observance watch'd her still; For laughter ceas'd whene'er she came, And none p.r.o.nounc'd her lover's name!

When wilfully she sought this spot, Shudderings prophetic mark'd his lot; She look'd! her maiden's cheek was pale!

And from the hour did ne'er depart That deadly tremor from her heart.

Pleasure and blandishment were vain; Deaf to persuasion's dulcet strain, It never reach'd her mind again.

"Arise, lovely mourner! thy sorrows give o'er, Nor droop so forlornly that beautiful head!

Thy sighs art unheard by the youth they deplore, And those warm-flowing tears all unfelt by the dead.

"Then quit this despondence, sweet Osvalde! be gay!

See open before thee the gates of delight!

Where the Hours are now lingering on tiptoe, away!

They view thee with smiles, and are loth to take flight.

"See the damsels around thee, how joyous they are!

How their eyes sparkle pleasure whenever they meet!

What sweet flowers are entwin'd in their long, floating hair!

How airy their movements, how nimble their feet!

"O! bear her from hence! when she sees them rejoice, Still keener the pain of her agony burns; And when Joy carols by, with a rapturous voice, To hopeless Remembrance more poignantly turns.

"Thus often has her bosom bled; Thus have I seen her fainting led From feasts intended to dispel The woeful thoughts she nurs'd so well.

And must she, by the king's command, To Eustace plight that fever'd hand?

Proud, loyal as he is, can he, A victim to the same decree, Receive it, while regretting me?

For that poor, withering heart, resign The warm, devoted faith of mine!

"Have I, too, an allotted task?

What from the Minstrel do they ask?

A nimble finger o'er the chords, A tongue replete with gracious words!

Alas! the tribute they require, Truth, sudden impulse, should inspire; And from the senseless, subject lyre, Such fine and mellow music flow, The skill that forms it should not know Whence the delicious tones proceed; But, lost in rapture's grateful glow, Doubt its own power, and cry, 'Indeed, Some pa.s.sing angel sweeps the strings, Wafting from his balsamic wings The sweetest breath of Eden bowers, Tones nurs'd and hovering there in flowers, Have left their haunts to wander free, Linger, alight, and dwell on thee!'

"In Osvalde's porch, where, full in bloom, The jasmine spread its rich perfume; And, in thick cl.u.s.tering ma.s.ses, strove To hide the arch of stone above; While many a long and drooping spray Wav'd up, and lash'd the air in play; Was I ordain'd my harp to place, The pair with bridal strains to grace.

"The royal will,--and what beside?

O! what I since have lost,--my pride, Forbade the wonted song to fail: I met him with a cheerful hail.

I taught my looks, my lips, to feign I bade my hand its task sustain; And when he came to seek the bride, Her rival thus, unfaltering, cried:--

"'Approach! approach, thou gallant knight!

England's first champion in the fight, Of grace and courtesy the flower, Approach the high-born Osvalde's bower!

And forth let manly valour bring Youth's timid meekness, beauty's spring!

"'Thou darling of a va.s.sal host, Thy parents' stay, thy kinsman's boast; Thou favourite in a monarch's eyes, Whose gracious hand awards the prize; Thee does the brightest lot betide, The best domain, the fairest bride!'

"Mine sunk beneath the mournful look Which glanc'd disdainful as I spoke; And, when his step past hurrying by, And when I heard his struggling sigh, A moment on my quailing tongue The speech constrain'd of welcome hung; But in the harp's continuous sound My wandering thoughts I quickly found.

"'Haste on! and here thy duteous train In rapt expectance shall remain; Till, with thee, brilliant as a gem Set in a kingdom's diadem, Thy lovely mistress shall appear!

O! hasten! we await thee here!'

"Again did that upbraiding eye Check my false strain in pa.s.sing by; And its concentred meaning fell Into my soul:--It was not well To triumph thus, though but in show; To chant the lay that joyance spoke, To wear the gay and careless look.-- The ardent and the tender know What pain those self-reproaches brought, When conscience took the reins of thought Into her hand, avenging more All that she seem'd to prompt before.

O tyrant! from whose stern command No act of mine was ever free, How oft wouldst thou a censor stand For what I did to pleasure thee!

The well-propp'd courage of my look, The sportive language, airy tone, To wounded love and pride bespoke A selfish hardness not my own!

And only lulling secret pain, I seem'd to fling around disdain.

"To him, with warm affections crost, Who, owning happiness was lost, Had said, 'Dear maiden, were I free, They would not let me think of thee; The only one who on my sight Breaks lovely as the morning light; Whom my heart bounding springs to greet, Seeks not, but always hopes to meet; With eager joy unlocks its store, Yet ever pines to tell thee more!'

To him, should feign'd indifference bring A killing scorn, a taunting sting?

To Osvalde, drooping and forlorn, A flower fast fading on the stem, All exultation seem'd like scorn, For what was hope and joy to them?

As with awakening judgment came These feelings of remorse and shame, With the throng'd crowd, the bustling scene, Did deep abstractions intervene, O'er yielding effort holding sway, As, humbled, I pursued my way.

"The festive flowers, the incens'd air, The altar taper's reddening glare; The pausing, slow-advancing pair, Her fainter, his most watchful air; The vaulted pile, the solemn rite, Impress'd, then languish'd on my sight; And all my being was resign'd To that strong ordeal, where the mind, Summon'd before a heavenly throne, Howe'er surrounded, feels alone.

When, bow'd in dust all earthly pride, All earthly power and threats defied, Mortal opinion stands as nought In the clear'd atmosphere of thought; And selfish care, and worldly thrall, And mean repining, vanish all.

When prayers are pour'd to G.o.d above, His eyes send forth their beams of love; Darkness forsakes our mental sky, And, demon-like, our pa.s.sions fly.

The holy presence, by its stay Drives failings, fears, and woes away; Refines, exalts, our nature draws To share its own eternal laws Of pure benevolence and rest, The future portion of the blest-- Their constant portion! Soon this flow Of life I lost--recall'd below: From prayers for them recall'd. Around, A sudden rush, of fearful sound, Smote on my ear; of voices crying, 'The bride, the Lady Osvalde dying!

Give place! make room!' the hurrying press Eustace alarm'd; and, in distress, Calling for air, and through the crowd Which an impeded way allow'd, Forcing slow progress; bearing on Her pallid form; when, wholly gone You might have deem'd her mortal breath, Cold, languid, motionless as death, I saw before my eyes advance, And 'woke, astounded, from my trance.

"The air reviv'd her--but again She left not, for the social train, The stillness of her chamber;--ne'er Its threshold pa.s.s'd, but on her bier: Spoke but to one who seem'd to stand Anear, and took his viewless hand, To promise, let whate'er betide, She would not be another's bride.

Then, pleading as for past offence, Cried out aloud, 'They bore me hence!

My feet, my lips, refus'd to move, To violate the vows of love!

My sense recoil'd, my vision flew, Almost before I met thy view!