 | Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems |  |
10.
Even thus she sat in reverie,
An open book upon her knee,
That Lady pale, while far away
Her thoughts, like truant children, stray.
Her heart—no, not her heart—went back,
'Twas memory trod the long, dim track.
On, on, like beam of light she sped,
Or thought that flies to seek the dead;
On, over the ocean's wintry foam,
Where surges heave as mountains high,
As 'twere to join the sea and sky;
And now the blesséd land is nigh—
And she has reached her childhood's home!
She sees the grand ancestral Hall,
The pictured warriors on the wall,—
There frowns a grim old ancestor,
As might have scowled the Saxon Knight,
Who perished in the fatal fight
That made Duke William “Conqueror!”
An open book upon her knee,
That Lady pale, while far away
Her thoughts, like truant children, stray.
Her heart—no, not her heart—went back,
'Twas memory trod the long, dim track.
22
Or thought that flies to seek the dead;
On, over the ocean's wintry foam,
Where surges heave as mountains high,
As 'twere to join the sea and sky;
And now the blesséd land is nigh—
And she has reached her childhood's home!
She sees the grand ancestral Hall,
The pictured warriors on the wall,—
There frowns a grim old ancestor,
As might have scowled the Saxon Knight,
Who perished in the fatal fight
That made Duke William “Conqueror!”
Then came a Lady, very fair,
Even in her faded semblance there,
Companioned by a stern, dark Knight,—
Like morning shrinking back from night—
And told, like page of History,
The Talbot's genealogy;—
Told, too, how stern the sires had been—
Their harsh and haughty Norman blood;
While gentler flowed the stream within
The Saxon daughters, fair and good.
And she, the lovely dreamer there,
Like marble form in the tall, dark chair,
She was the last Lord Talbot's heir!
Even in her faded semblance there,
Companioned by a stern, dark Knight,—
Like morning shrinking back from night—
And told, like page of History,
The Talbot's genealogy;—
23
Their harsh and haughty Norman blood;
While gentler flowed the stream within
The Saxon daughters, fair and good.
And she, the lovely dreamer there,
Like marble form in the tall, dark chair,
She was the last Lord Talbot's heir!
Many, indeed most of the Pilgrim Fathers were from families of high respectability in their own country; and there were some from among the best nobility of England. Such was Lady Arabella Johnson, daughter of the proud Earl of Lincoln. Mr. Johnson and his wife, the Lady Arabella, were among the early emigrants to Massachusetts. She died and was buried at Salem, then the capital of the Colony; but he lived several years after, and was one of the leaders and most efficient pioneers in the settlement of the city of Boston. He, too, belonged to a rich and ancient family, and was connected with others of high rank.
| Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems | |