The Legend of Genevieve :: :: University of Virginia Library

Looking far forth into the ocean wide,
A goodly ship, with banners bravely dight,
And flag in her top-gallant, I espiede,
Through the main sea making her merry flight.
Spenser.

Hush'd were the tones of mirthful revelry,
Stay'd were the music and the dance, as fell
On Croydon's Gothic towers and battlements,
The shades of dreary midnight. In the hall
The hearth's brands were decaying; but a flame
Lambently lighted up the vaulted roof,
And circling walls, where antlers branching wide,
And forehead skins of elk and deer were seen,
And fox's brush; the trophies of the chase;

And warriors' cloaks depending, and the gleam
Of burnish'd armour—

In her chamber, one
Sleepless alone remain'd, where all was still;
Reclining on a couch, and dreaming o'er
The thoughts—the happy scenes of other years;
And, with a sweet, seraphic countenance,
Shining in beauty and in solitude,
Like morning's rosy star, when from the sky
Her sisters have in silence disappear'd.
Sorrowful Emma! were not thine of yore
Thoughts of unrest, and mournful countenance!
But sparkling eyes, that match'd unclouded heaven
In their deep azure; and carnation'd cheeks,
Round which the snow-drops like a halo spread;
And an elastic footstep, like the nymph
Health, when in very wantonness of play,
She brushes from the green the dews of morn.

And why, wrapt up in cloak of eider-down,
Chilling thy beauty in the midnight air,
Breathing, in solitude, the deep-drawn sigh,
Con'st thou, unheard of all, thy love-born tale,

The tale of hapless lovers, soft and sad?
And why, when all is still, and balmy sleep
Should seal the weary eyelids, dost thou sit
Mournfully beside the lattice, and attend
To the hollow murmurs of the distant sea,
Which fitfully, upon the passing gale
Break in, and die away?—

The winter's breath
Destroys the bloomy flowers—the ocean tide
Is govern'd by the moon; and, for thy grief,
Although unmark'd by all, there is a cause!

And she hath laid her down, and silently,
As Retrospection wander'd through the past,
Have her chaste eyelids closed; and, in her dream,
Lo! forests darken round with gloomy boughs,
And wolves are heard to howl; around her path
The forky lightnings flash; and, deeply loud,
The thunders roll amid the blackening skies.—
Anon her steps have gain'd a precipice
Above the roaring sea, where, waste and wild,
The foamy billows chafe among the rocks—
The rocks, whose sable heads, at intervals,

Are seen and disappear. Awfully dark
Night's shadows brood around; but, in the flash
Of the blue arrowy lightnings, far away
A vessel is descried upon the deep;
While moaning sounds are heard, and dismal shrieks
O'er the tempestuous billows breaking loud;
Until its stormy fury vented forth,
And the winds hush'd to silence and to rest
And the bright stars appearing, and the clouds
Breaking away, like armies from the field
When battle's clangor ceases,—she beholds,
Pallid beneath a cliff, the form of him,
Her chosen hero, bleach'd by wave and wind,
Unconscious of the seamew with a shriek
Hovering around—the victim of the storm!

Anon the vision changes; armies throng
The arid fields of Palestine afar;
And, glittering in the setting sun, she sees
The Moorish crescent over Salem's walls,
The Infidel victorious, and the hosts
Of baffled Christendom dispersed: she sees
Disaster and defeat the lot of those,
Who, 'neath Godfredo's banner, daring, left

On perilous enterprize their native shore.—
The battle's voice hath ceased; the trumpet's note
Hath died upon the west wind; bird and beast,
From mountain cliff on high, and woody dell,
Lured by the scent of blood, have come to gorge
On the unburied dead. Rider and horse,
The lofty and the low, commingled, lie
Unbreathing, and the balmy evening gale
Fitfully lifts the feathers on the crest
Of one, who slumbers with his visor up!

Starting, she wakes; and, o'er the eastern hill,
Lo! beautiful the radiant morn appears,
And, through the lattice, steadily streams in
The flood of crimson light; while, sitting there,
Upon the outward ivy wreath, in joy
Happy the robin sings; his lucid tones
Of harmony delight her listening ear,
Dispel the gather'd sadness of her heart,
And tell her that her fears are but a dream.

But hark! why sounded is the warder's horn?—
Doth danger threaten, or do foes approach?—
The guard are at their station; and she hears

The ring of brazen arms, as, anxious, there
The soldiers, girding on their swords, draw up;
The bugle's sound of peace is faintly heard,
Mournfully pleasing, in a dying strain,
Melodious—melancholy—far away!
An answer is return'd; heavily down
Sinks the huge drawbridge, and the iron tramp
Of steeds is heard fast-crossing. joy to her,
To long forsaken Emma, joy to her!—
Obscured by tempests dark, and brooding storms,
The sun may wander through the sky unseen
The livelong day; until, above the tops
Of the steep western mountains, forth he glows,
Glorious, the centre of a crimson flood,
In brightness unapproachable: so oft
The span of human life is measured out:
Sorrow and care, companions of our steps,
Hover around us, blotting out the hopes
We long had cherish'd; banishing the bliss
We oft have tasted, till our path is dark;
Then, lo! amid the gloom of hope deferr'd,
Breaks in a blessed light, a living day,
Like that of polar regions, glowing bright,
Unclouded, and unconscious of an end.—

A group of happy faces throng the hall;
And scarce hath Emma enter'd, like a flower
Blushing, and beautiful, with downcast eyes,
And palpitating bosom, ere her knight,
Young Ethelrid, from holy wars return'd
With laurels on his crest, to part no more,
Kneels faithful at her feet in ecstacy,
And lifts her snowy fingers to his lips.