I send with deep regards of heart and head, Sweet maid, for friendship formed! this work to thee: And thou, the while thou canst not choose but shed A tear for Falconer, wilt remember me. TO A YOUNG LADY. ON HER RECOVERY FROM A FEVER. WHY need I say, Louisa dear! Risen from the bed of pain and fear, The sunny showers, the dappled sky, Believe me, while in bed you lay, Besides, what vexed us worse, we knew, INTRODUCTION TO THE TALE OF THE DARK LADIE. O LEAVE the lily on its stem; A cypress and a myrtle bough This morn around my harp you twined, Its murmurs in the wind. And now a tale of love and woe, But most, my own dear Genevieve, And now, once more a tale of woe, * Here followed the Stanzas, afterwards published separately under the title "Love" (see p. 198), and after them came the other three stanzas printed above; the whole forming the introduction to the intended Dark Ladie, of which ali that exists is subjoined. When last I sang the cruel scorn, That crazed this bold and lovely knight, And how he roamed the mountain woods, Nor rested day nor night; I promised thee a sister tale, Come then, and hear what cruel wrong 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; The heavy tear is in her eye, 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, She springs, she clasps him round the neck, "My friends with rude ungentle words "My Henry, I have given thee much, I gave what I can ne'er recall, I gave my heart, I gave my peace, The Knight made answer to the Maid, None statelier in the land. "The fairest one shall be my The fairest castle of the nine! love's, Wait only till the stars peep out, "Wait only till the hand of eve Hath wholly closed yon western bars, Beneath the twinkling stars!" --- "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, "But first the nodding minstrels go "And then my love and I shall pace, And blushing bridal maids." |