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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 | The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme |  |
XXIX
He burst away from prayer and praise
To find delights of fairy glade.
His cheek was all a-flame; his gaze
Shot flashes like a polished blade.
He flew with eager feet along
The road from which he warned so well,
And every word he breathed was song,
For every word was Yesebel.
To find delights of fairy glade.
His cheek was all a-flame; his gaze
Shot flashes like a polished blade.
He flew with eager feet along
The road from which he warned so well,
And every word he breathed was song,
For every word was Yesebel.
But suddenly a woman's eyes
Illumed the darkness; sparkled keen
Yet mournfully; seraphic skies
Of love and love's reproof; their sheen
Was terrible to him, though sweet.
They pierced the shadows round his soul;
They checked the madness of his feet.
He paled like one who hears the toll
Of funeral bells, and fears to die.
He stopped with lifted arms and sobbed,
“Oh, Esther!”—“Yes,” she wept, “'Tis I!”
Then, standing by his side, she throbbed
And struggled through a stormy mere
Of pleading, every wave a tear.
Illumed the darkness; sparkled keen
Yet mournfully; seraphic skies
Of love and love's reproof; their sheen
Was terrible to him, though sweet.
They pierced the shadows round his soul;
They checked the madness of his feet.
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Of funeral bells, and fears to die.
He stopped with lifted arms and sobbed,
“Oh, Esther!”—“Yes,” she wept, “'Tis I!”
Then, standing by his side, she throbbed
And struggled through a stormy mere
Of pleading, every wave a tear.
| The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme | |