 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE BLOT ON THE 'SCUTCHEON.
Strong my ancestors, and stately
Took their feastings and their fights,
Walked through history sedately,
Calm as stars in stormy nights—
Beacon lights;
All they did was done so greatly
For the need, and nothing lately;
Noble sights
Somehow breathed on them their beauty,
As if set on heavenly heights,
Moulding, out of death and duty,
Rights.
Took their feastings and their fights,
Walked through history sedately,
Calm as stars in stormy nights—
Beacon lights;
All they did was done so greatly
For the need, and nothing lately;
Noble sights
Somehow breathed on them their beauty,
As if set on heavenly heights,
Moulding, out of death and duty,
Rights.
In their annals proud was nothing
Dark, or with a doubtful air,
That might rouse a people's lothing,
Or appeal to judgment chair—
Scaffold stair;
Honour was their simple clothing,
Sweet as, bent to seal betrothing,
Woman's hair;
Ah, their banner had no smutch on,
Glorious deeds did not repair,
Nor was one blot in their 'scutcheon
Fair.
Dark, or with a doubtful air,
That might rouse a people's lothing,
Or appeal to judgment chair—
Scaffold stair;
Honour was their simple clothing,
Sweet as, bent to seal betrothing,
Woman's hair;
Ah, their banner had no smutch on,
Glorious deeds did not repair,
Nor was one blot in their 'scutcheon
Fair.
But I had no magic moly,
Such as wise Ulysses knew,
And I loved a maiden lowly,
Who round me enchantments threw—
Softly drew
By a secret passion, slowly
Turned to love, that high and holy
Upward flew;
Till I felt an Eden's thrilling,
Where no tempest ever blew,
On my weary heart distilling
Dew.
Such as wise Ulysses knew,
And I loved a maiden lowly,
Who round me enchantments threw—
Softly drew
By a secret passion, slowly
Turned to love, that high and holy
Upward flew;
425
Where no tempest ever blew,
On my weary heart distilling
Dew.
Then I thrust aside the glory,
Which had dimmed my better sight,
Gilded bonds, and passing story,
Purple patches in the Light
Paltry blight;
Dropt for her the grandeur gory,
Wingèd riches, falsehoods hoary
Taking flight;
Found my fame was but a crutch, on
Which I won a worthless might,
While the blot made all my 'scutcheon
Bright.
Which had dimmed my better sight,
Gilded bonds, and passing story,
Purple patches in the Light
Paltry blight;
Dropt for her the grandeur gory,
Wingèd riches, falsehoods hoary
Taking flight;
Found my fame was but a crutch, on
Which I won a worthless might,
While the blot made all my 'scutcheon
Bright.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |