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Then let come what come may,
And left his coal all turn’d into gold
Let the sweet heavens endure,
Not close and darken above me Before I am quite quite sure
That there is one to love me; Then let come what come may To a life that has been so sad, I shall have had my day.
Bieps in the high Hall-garden
When twilight was falling, Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud,
They were crying and calling.
What, has he found my jewel out?
2. Where was Maud ? in our wood;
And I, who else, was with her, Gathering woodland lilies,
Myriads blow together.
3. Birds in our woods sang
Ringing thro' the valleys, Maud is here, here, here
In among the lilies.
Last week came one to the county town,
4. I kiss'd her slender hand,
She took the kiss sedately, Maud is not seventeen,
But she is tall and stately
5. I to cry out on pride
Who have won her favor! O Maud were sure of Heaven
If lowliness could save her.
And six feet two, as I think, he stands ;
4. But his essences turn'd the live air sick,
I heard no sound where I stood And barbarous opulence jewel-thick
But the rivulet on from the lawn Sann'd itself on his breast and his hands.
Running down to my own dark wood; 2.
Or the voice of the long sea-wave as it swellid
Now and then in the dim-gray dawn ; Who shall call me ungentle, unfair,
But I look'd, and ound, all round the house I be I long'd so heartily then and there
held To give him the grasp of fellowship;
The death-white curtain drawn; But while I past he was humming an air,
Felt a horror over me creep, Stopt, and then with a riding whip
Prickle my skin and catch my breath, Leisurely tapping a glossy boot,
Knew that the death-white curtain meant but sleep, And curving a contumelious lip,
Yet I shudder'd and thought like a fool of the sleep Gorgonized me from head to foot
of death. With a stony British stare.
XV. 3. Why sits he here in his father's chair?
So dark a mind within me dwells, That old man never comes to his place:
And I make myself such evil cheer, Shall I believe him ashamed to be seen ?
That if I be dear to some one else, For only once, in the village street,
Then some one else may have much to fcar; Last year, I caught a glimpse of his face,
But if I be dear to some one else, A gray old wolf and a lean.
Then I should be to myself more dear. Scarcely, now, would I call him a cheat;
Shall I not take care of all that I think, For then, perhaps, as a child of deceit,
Yea ev'n of wretched meat and drink, She might by a true descent be untrue ;
If I be dear,
If I be dear to some one else ?
1. And fair without, faithful within,
This lump of earth has left his estate Mand to him is nothing akin:
The lighter by the loss of his weight; Some peculiar mystic grace
And so that he tind what he went to seek, Made her only the child of her mother,
And fulsome Pleasure clog him, and drown And heap'd the whole inherited sin
His heart in the gross mud-honey of town, On that buge scapegoat of the race,
He may stay for a year who has gone for a week All, all upon the brother.
But this is the day when I must speak,
o this is the day ! Peace, angry spirit, and let him be!
O beantiful creature, what am I Has not his sister smiled on me!
That I dare to look her way;
Think I may hold dominion sweet,
Lord of the pulse that is lord of her breast,
And dream of her beauty with tender dread, 1.
From the delicate Arab arch of her feet Maud has a garden of roses
To the grace that, bright and light as the crest And lilies fair on a lawn ;
of a peacock, sits on her shining head, There she walks in her state
And she knows it not: 0, if she knew it, And tends upon bed and bower
To know her beauty might half undo it. And thither I climb'd at dawn
I know it the one bright thing to save And stood by her garden gate;
My yet young life in the wilds of Time, A lion ramps at the top,
Perhaps from madness, perhaps from crime He is claspt by a passion-flower.
Perhaps from a seltish grave. 2.
2. Mand's own little oak-room (Which Maud, like a precious stone
What, if she were fasten'd to this fool lord, Set in the heart of the carven gloom,
Dare I bid her abide by her word ? Lights with herself, when alone
Should I love her so well if she She sits by her music and books,
Kad given her word to a thing so low? And her brother lingers late
Shall I love her as well if she With a roystering company) looks
Can break her word were it even for me!
I trust that it is not so.
Catch not my breath, O clamorous heart, Like a beam of the seventh Heaven, down to my side, For I must tell her before we part, There were but a step to be made.
I must tell her, or die.
Rosy is the West,
But now shine on, and what care I,
Who in this stormy gulf have found a psarl
The countercharm of space and hollow sky,
And do accept my madness and would die
To save from some slight shame one simple girl
Would die ; for sullen-seeming Death may give
More life to Love than is or ever was
In our low world, where yet 't is sweet to live.
Let no one ask me how it came to pass ;
It seems that I am happy, that to me
A livelier emerald twinkles in the grass,
A purer sapphire melts into the sea.
Not die ; but live a life of truest breath,
And teach true life to fight with mortal wrongs,
0, why should Love, like men in drinking-songs, Rosy is the South,
Spice his fair banquet with the dust of death?
Make answer, Maud my bliss.
Maud made my Maud by that long lover's kiss,
Life of my life, wilt thou pot answer this!
“The dusky strand of Death inwoven here
With dear Love's tie, makes Love himself more dear. 1. I have led her home, my love, my only friend.
8. There is none like her, none,
Is that enchanted moan only the swell And never yet so warmly ran my blood
of the long waves that roll in yonder bay? And sweetly, on and on
And hark the clock within, the silver knell Calming itself to the long-wish’d-for end,
Of twelve sweet hours that past in bridal white, Full to the banks, close on the promised good.
And died to live, long as my pulses play;
But now by this my love has closed her sight 2.
And given false death her hand, and stol'n away None like her, none.
To dreamful wastes where footless fancies dwell Just now the dry-tongued laurel's pattering talk Among the fancies of the golden day. Seem'd her light foot along the garden walk, May nothing there her maiden grace affright! And shook my heart to think she comes once more ; Dear heart, I feel with thee the drowsy spell. But even then I heard her close the door,
My bride to be, my evermore delight, The gates of heaven are closed, and she is gone. My own heart's heart and ownest own farewell;
It is but for a little space I go 3.
And ye meanwhile far over moor and fell
Beat to the noiseless music of the night! There is none like her, none.
Has our whole earth gone nearer to the glow Nor will be when our summers have deceased.
Of your soft splendors that you look so bright! 0, art thou sighing for Lebanon In the long breeze that streams to thy delicious Beat, happy stars, timing with things below,
I have climb'd rearer out of lonely Hell.
Beat with my heart more blest than heart can tell Sighing for Lebanon,
Blest, but for some dark undercurrent woe Dark cedar, tho' thy limbs have here increased,
That seems to draw-but it shall not be so, Upon a pastoral slope as fair,
Let all be well, be well.
Her brother is coming back to-night,
Breaking up my dream of delight.
My dream? do I dream of bliss !
I have walk'd awake with Truth. 4.
O when did a morning shine Here will I lie, while these long branches sway,
So rich in atonement as this And you fair stars that crown a happy day
For my dark dawning youth, Go in and out as if at merry play,
Darken'd watching a mother deciine
And that dead man at her heart and minc:
For who was left to watch her but I !
Yet so did I let my freshness die.
3. A sad astrology, the boundless plan That makes you tyrants in your iron skies,
I trust that I did not talk Impumerable, pltiless, passionless yes,
To gentle Maud in our walk Cold tires, yet with power to burn and brand (tor often in lonely wanderings His nothingness into man.
I have cursed him even to lifeless things)
That he plots against me still.
But I trust that I did not talk,
9. For, Maud, so tender and true, As long as my life endures I feel I shall owe you a debt, That I never can hope to pay; And if ever I should forget That I owe this debt to you And for your sweet sake to yours ; O then, what then shall I say?If ever I should forget, May God make me more wretched Than ever I have been yet!
And Maud too, Mand was moved
So now I have sworn to bury
5. But the true blood spilt had in it a heat To dissolve the precious seal on a bond, That, if left tcancell'd, had been so sweet : And none of us thought of a something beyond, A desire that awoke in the heart of the child, As it were a duty done to the tomb, To be friends for her sake, to be reconciled ; And I was cursing them and my doom, And letting a dangerous thought run wild While often abroad in the fragrant gloom Of foreigo churches,-I see her there, Bright English lily, breathing a prayer To be friends, to be reconciled!
1. STRANGE, that I felt so gay, Strange that I tried to-das To beguile her melancholy : The Sultan, as we name him,She did not wish to blame himBut he vext her and perplext her With his worldly talk and folly: Was it gentle to reprove her For stealing out of view From a little lazy lover Who but claims her as his due ? Or for chilling his caresses By the coldness of her manners, Nay, the plainness of her dressee? Now I know her but in two, Nor can pronounce upon it If one should ask me whethe The habit, hat, and feather, Or the frock and gypsy bonnet Be the neater and completer; For nothing can be sweeter Than maiden Maud in either.
But then what a tint is he!
2. But to-morrow, if we live, Our ponderous squire will give A grand political dinner To half the squirelings near; And Maud will wear her jewels, And the bird 0. prey will hover, And the titmouse hope to win her With his chirrup at her ear.
7. Yet Mand, altho' not blind To the faults of his heart and mind, I see she cannot but love him, And says he is rough but kind, And wishes me to approve him, And tells me, when she lay Sick once, with a fear of worse, That he left his wine and horses and play, Sat with her, read to her, night and day, And tended her like a nurse.
3. A grand political dinner To the men of many acres, A gathering of the Tory, A dinner and then a dance For the maids and marriage-makers, And every eye but mine will glan At Maud in all her glory.
8. Kind? but the death-bed desire Spurn'd by this heir of the liarRough but kind? yet I know He has plotted against me in this,
4. For I am not invited, But, with the Sultan's pardo I am all as well delighted, For I know her own rose-garden,
The slender acacia would not shake
One long milk-bloom on the tree;
As the pimpernel dozed on the lee;
Knowing your promise to me;
They sigh'd for the dawn and thee.
Come hither, the dances are done,
Queen lily and rose in one;
To the flowers, and be their sun.
10. HOME into the garden, Maud,
There has fallen a splendid tear For the black bat, night, has flown,
From the passion-flower at the gato. Come into the garden, Maud,
She is coming, my dove, my dear; I am here at the gate alone;
She is coming, my life, my fate; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
The red rose cries, “ She is near, she is near;' And the musk of the roses blown.
And the white rose weeps, “She is late ;"
The larkspur listens, “I hear, I hear;" 2.
And the lily whispers, “I wait." lior a breeze of morning moves,
Were it ever so airy a tread,
Were it earth in an earthy bed ;
My dust would hear her and beat, 3.
Had I lain for a century dead; All night have the roses heard
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.
1. And a hush with the setting moon.
" The fault was mine, the fault was mine'4.
Why am I sitting here so stunn'd and still,
Plucking the harmless wild-flower on the hill! I said to the lily, “There is but one
It is this guilty hand! With whom she has heart to be gay.
And there rises ever a passionate cry When will the dancers leave her alone ?
From underneath in the darkening landShe is weary of dance and play."
What is it, that has been done? Now half to the setting moon are gone,
( dawn of Eden bright over earth and sky, And half to the rising day;
The fires of Hell brake out of thy rising sun, Low on the sand and loud on the stone
The tires of Hell and of Hate; The last wheel echoes away.
For she, sweet soul, had hardly spoken a word,
When her brother ran in his rage to the gate, 5.
He came with the babe-faced lord ; | said to the rose, “The brief night goes
Heap'd on her terms of disgrace, In babble and revel and wine.
And while she wept, and I strove to be cool, O young lord-lover, what sighs are those,
He fiercely gave me the lie, For one that will never be thine ?
Till I with as fierce an anger spoke, But mine, but mine," so I sware to the rose, And he struck me, madman, over the face, “For ever and ever, mine."
Struck me before the languid fool,
Who was gaping and grinning by: 6.
Struck for himself an evil stroke: And the soul of the rose went into my blood, Wronght for his house an irredeemable woe; As the music clash'd in the hall;
For front to front in an hour we stood, And long by the garden lake I stood,
And a million horrible bellowing echoes broke For I heard your rivulet fall
From the red-ribh'd hollow behind the od, From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood, And thunder'd up into Heaven the Christless cod Our wood, that is dearer than all;
That must have life for a blow.