Whole weeks and months, and early Good only for its beauty, seeing not! and late, To win his love I lay in wait. O, the earl was fair to see! I made a feast; I batle him come ; And after supper, on a bed, I kiss'd his eyelids into rest, The wind is raging in turret and tree. I hated him with the hate of hell, But I loved his beauty passing well. O, the earl was fair to see! I rose up in the silent night; I made my dagger sharp and bright. The wind is raving in turret and tree. As half-asleep his breath he drew, Three times I stabb'd him thro' and thro'. O, the earl was fair to see! I curl'd and comb'd his comely head, He look'd so grand when he was dead. The wind is blowing in turret and tree. I wrapt his body in the sheet, ΤΟ WITH THE FOLLOWING POEM I SEND you here a sort of allegoryFor you will understand it—of a soul, A sinful soul possess'd of many gifts, A spacious garden full of flowering weeds, A glorious devil, large in heart and brain, That did love beauty only - beauty seen In all varieties of mould and mindAnd knowledge for its beauty; or if good, That Beauty, Good, and Knowledge are three sisters But over these she trod; and those great bells Began to chime. She took her To mimic heaven; and clapt her throne: And all those names that in their motion were Full-welling change, hands and cried, O silent faces of the Great and Wise, fountain-heads of O Godlike isolation which art mine, Betwixt the slender shafts were bla- What time I watch the darkening zon'd fair In diverse raiment strange; droves of swine Full oft the riddle of the painful earth Flash'd thro' her as she sat alone, Yet not the less held she her solemn mirth, And intellectual throne. And so she throve and prosper'd; so three years She prosper'd; on the fourth she fell, Like Herod, when the shout was in his ears, Struck thro' with pangs of hell. 220 Lest she should fail and perish utterly, God, before whom ever lie bare The abysmal deeps of personality, Plagued her with sore despair. When she would think, where'er she turn'd her sight The airy hand confusion wrought, Wrote, 'Mene, mene,' and divided quite The kingdom of her thought. Deep dread and loathing of her solitude night The plunging seas draw backward from the land Their moon-led waters white; A star that with the choral starry dance Join'd not, but stood, and standing saw The hollow orb of moving Circum stance Roll'd round by one fix'd law. Back on herself her serpent pride had curl'd. 'No voice,' she shriek'd in that lone hall, 'No voice breaks thro' the stillness of this world; One deep, deep silence all !' 260 She, mouldering with the dull earth's mouldering sod, Inwrapt tenfold in slothful shame, Lay there exiled from eternal God, Lost to her place and name: You thought to break a country heart Lady Clara Vere de Vere, I know you proud to bear your name, Your pride is yet no mate for mine, Too proud to care from whence came. Nor would I break for your sweet sakı A heart that dotes on truer charms A simple maiden in her flower Is worth a hundred coats-of-arms. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Some meeker pupil you must find, For, were you queen of all that is, I could not stoop to such a mind. You sought to prove how I could love, And my disdain is my reply. The lion on your old stone gates Is not more cold to you than I. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, You put strange memories in my head. Not thrice your branching limes have blown Since I beheld young Laurence dead. O, your sweet eyes, your low replies! A great enchantress you may be; But there was that across his throat Which you had hardly cared to see. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, When thus he met his mother's view, She had the passions of her kind, She spake some certain truths of you. Indeed I heard one bitter word That scarce is fit for you to hear; Her manners had not that repose Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere. |