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The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme

The witch of Shiloh, the last of the Wampanoags, the gentle earl, the enchanted voyage

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XV
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XV

By day the column seaward strode—
At night a country squire's abode
Secluded Esther. Near at hand
The earl encamped with all his band.
That evening, while a zither played,
He sang a lovelorn serenade,
And watched her gentle face askant
With longing that the fervid chant
Might win the smile he loved to see,
Or win her heart, if that could be.
But Esther thought it worldly song,
And doubted sore of doing wrong
In hearing such a lightsome strain
With any feeling but of pain.
And when he pleaded she would sing,
She made the roomy mansion ring
With solemn airs and pious lays,
The psalmodies of olden days
When captive Hebrews choired beside
Euphrates and the Kebar's tide.
It made him wondrous sad to hear
Such melodies from one so dear.

135

How should his spirit ever win
Such altitudes, so clear of sin!
How could her holy soul descend
To know him, even as a friend!
Anear they sat, yet far apart—
A mighty gulf 'twixt heart and heart—
So passed in vain the lovelorn day,
As lovelorn lives have passed away.