Few sorrows hath she of her own, The songs that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air, She listened with a flitting blush, I told her of the Knight that wore I told her how he pined and ah! She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace; And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face! But when I told the cruel scorn That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, That sometimes from the savage den, There came and looked him in the face 1 And that he knew it was a Fiend, And that unknowing what he did, And how she wept, and clasped his knees; And how she tended him in vain And ever strove to expiate The scorn that crazed his brain ;— And that she nursed him in a cave; His dying words—but when I reached All impulses of soul and sense And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, She wept with pity and delight, She blushed with love, and virgin shame; And like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. Her bosom heaved-she stepped aside, * Here followed the stanzas, afterwards published separately under the title "Love," (see this vol. p. 126,) and after them came the other three stanzas printed above; the whole forming the introduction to the intended Dark Ladie, of which all that exists is to be found on next page. Late Ed. ** And now once more, a tale of woe, When last I sang the cruel scorn, I promised thee a sister tale, Of man's perfidious cruelty; Come, then, and hear what cruel wrong Befell the Dark Ladie. THE BALLAD OF THE DARK LADIE. A FRAGMENT. BENEATH yon birch with silver bark And there upon the moss she sits, The Dark Ladie in silent pain; And drops and swells again. Three times she sends her little page The sun was sloping down the sky, She hears a rustling o'er the brook, "'Tis He! 'Tis my betrothed Knight! Lord Falkland, it is Thou !" She springs, she clasps him round the neck, She quenches with her tears. The Knight made answer to the Maid, "The fairest one shall be my love's, "Wait only till the hand of eve Hath wholly closed yon western bars, "The dark? the dark? No! not the dark? The twinkling stars? How, Henry? How? O God! 'twas in the eye of noon He pledged his sacred vow! "And in the eye of noon, my love, Shall lead me from my mother's door |