Denzil place a story in verse. By Violet Fane [i.e. M. M. Lamb] |
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| I. |
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| II. |
| III. |
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| V. |
| VI. |
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| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
 | Denzil place |  |
“Ah, dear and lovely face of her I love!
“Could I but watch it ever sleeping so,
“E'en should those eye-lids never more unclose
“And those sweet lips be silent evermore,
“Yet could I wait and watch thro' all the years
“And keep alive her tender memory.
“Ah, shame to bury such a lovely thing
“All out of sight in earth's unfeeling breast—
“I have a horrid dread that thro' long years
“My memory may fail to call her back!
“Oh, should I e'er forget her!—Let her stay
“And do not hurry her away so soon
“To loneliness and darkness!”
“Could I but watch it ever sleeping so,
“E'en should those eye-lids never more unclose
“And those sweet lips be silent evermore,
“Yet could I wait and watch thro' all the years
“And keep alive her tender memory.
“Ah, shame to bury such a lovely thing
“All out of sight in earth's unfeeling breast—
“I have a horrid dread that thro' long years
“My memory may fail to call her back!
“Oh, should I e'er forget her!—Let her stay
“And do not hurry her away so soon
“To loneliness and darkness!”
Here the Nun
Sister Theresa, Constance's old friend,
(For they were staying near the sunny town
Where first they met her) led him from the room
And whisper'd words of Christian hope and faith,
But thro' them all, to his remorseful heart
There ran an under current of reproach—
It seem'd to him as tho' the Sister said
(Whatever form she made the words assume,)
“Ah, surely yonder convent in the hills
“Had been a brighter prison than the one
“To which your boasted love has sent her now.”
I know not whether such a passing thought
E'er flitted thro' her mind, or if his brain,
Perverted by its load of suffering,
Originated ev'ry sentiment
That could inflict self-torture.
Sister Theresa, Constance's old friend,
(For they were staying near the sunny town
233
And whisper'd words of Christian hope and faith,
But thro' them all, to his remorseful heart
There ran an under current of reproach—
It seem'd to him as tho' the Sister said
(Whatever form she made the words assume,)
“Ah, surely yonder convent in the hills
“Had been a brighter prison than the one
“To which your boasted love has sent her now.”
I know not whether such a passing thought
E'er flitted thro' her mind, or if his brain,
Perverted by its load of suffering,
Originated ev'ry sentiment
That could inflict self-torture.
“Cease, I pray,”
He said, when next the Sister, meeting him
Strove to console him with her well-meant words,
“In pity cease these vain and empty tales
“About the tender mercies of your God!
“What is this life that He has given me
“Now that the world is empty of her? Where
“May I discover any trace of her?
“Transform'd, or blended into what is fair
“In Nature, may I recognize again
“Some spark of that pure flame that was her breath?
“Ah, had I but her innocent belief
“Of wingèd meetings in another sphere
“How good t'would be to wait and hope for her!
“Ten thousand years of waiting would I wait,
“Here in this very flesh, ten thousand years,
“To clasp at their eventual expiration
“So dear a blessing!”
He said, when next the Sister, meeting him
Strove to console him with her well-meant words,
“In pity cease these vain and empty tales
“About the tender mercies of your God!
“What is this life that He has given me
“Now that the world is empty of her? Where
“May I discover any trace of her?
“Transform'd, or blended into what is fair
“In Nature, may I recognize again
234
“Ah, had I but her innocent belief
“Of wingèd meetings in another sphere
“How good t'would be to wait and hope for her!
“Ten thousand years of waiting would I wait,
“Here in this very flesh, ten thousand years,
“To clasp at their eventual expiration
“So dear a blessing!”
Then he sadly thought
“Alas, I did not value her enough
“When she was with me! All my love of her
“Was not enough of love—that sacred thing,
“Her hand, I often only lightly held
“(Not thinking it was lent to lie in mine
“But for a moment!) whilst my fickle mind
“Wander'd away to England. On my breast
“She has lain her head and slept, and I have slept,
“Closing mine eyes to the great happiness
“Of gazing on her, I repair'd to dreams
“In which she sometimes did not follow me—
“She was as lost to me for long whole hours
“As now she is to all eternity!
“Now would I wake, watching her sweetest face
“Thro' sleepless ages, could I feel again
“The cheek that lightly on my happy heart
“Used once to lean! These are the first sad days
“That I have felt God's anger in my life—
“She was so good, so pure, so beautiful—
“Thinking no evil thought—it was for me
“She left her innocent life of good intent
“To sail with me upon the stormy sea
“Of passion—it was I who dragg'd her down
“To the low level of my selfish life—
“I took her for my own, I mix'd with mine
“Her pure identity;—I spoil'd, devour'd,
“And revell'd in my godless victory—
“And now I am a murderer, like Cain.
“My kiss has kill'd my darling,—all my life
“Is henceforth chasten'd with a deathless hunger
“Insatiable—vain, ah, cursed words
“‘Impossible’ and ‘Never’ and ‘Too late!’”
“Alas, I did not value her enough
“When she was with me! All my love of her
“Was not enough of love—that sacred thing,
“Her hand, I often only lightly held
“(Not thinking it was lent to lie in mine
“But for a moment!) whilst my fickle mind
“Wander'd away to England. On my breast
“She has lain her head and slept, and I have slept,
“Closing mine eyes to the great happiness
“Of gazing on her, I repair'd to dreams
“In which she sometimes did not follow me—
“She was as lost to me for long whole hours
“As now she is to all eternity!
“Now would I wake, watching her sweetest face
“Thro' sleepless ages, could I feel again
235
“Used once to lean! These are the first sad days
“That I have felt God's anger in my life—
“She was so good, so pure, so beautiful—
“Thinking no evil thought—it was for me
“She left her innocent life of good intent
“To sail with me upon the stormy sea
“Of passion—it was I who dragg'd her down
“To the low level of my selfish life—
“I took her for my own, I mix'd with mine
“Her pure identity;—I spoil'd, devour'd,
“And revell'd in my godless victory—
“And now I am a murderer, like Cain.
“My kiss has kill'd my darling,—all my life
“Is henceforth chasten'd with a deathless hunger
“Insatiable—vain, ah, cursed words
“‘Impossible’ and ‘Never’ and ‘Too late!’”
| Denzil place | |