 | The Ballad of Babie Bell And Other Poems |  |
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A LEGEND OF ELSINORE.
O but she had not her peer!
In the kingdom far or near,
There were never such brown tresses, such a faultless hand:
She had youth, and she had gold,
She had jewels all untold;
And many a lover bold
Wooed the Lady of the Land.
In the kingdom far or near,
There were never such brown tresses, such a faultless hand:
She had youth, and she had gold,
She had jewels all untold;
And many a lover bold
Wooed the Lady of the Land.
But, alack! they won not Maud,
Neither belted knight nor lord:
“Woo me not, for Jesus' sake, good gentlemen,” she said.
If they wooed, then,—with a frown
She would strike their passion down.
O she might have wed a crown
To the ringlets on her head!
Neither belted knight nor lord:
“Woo me not, for Jesus' sake, good gentlemen,” she said.
If they wooed, then,—with a frown
She would strike their passion down.
O she might have wed a crown
To the ringlets on her head!
From the dizzy castle tips,
She would watch the silent snips,
Like sheeted phantoms, coming and going evermore,
While the twilight settled down
On the sleepy little town.
On the gables peaked and brown,
That had sheltered kings of yore.
She would watch the silent snips,
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While the twilight settled down
On the sleepy little town.
On the gables peaked and brown,
That had sheltered kings of yore.
Her blue eyes drank in the sight,
With a full and still delight;
For it was as fair a scene as aught in Arcadie:
Through the yellow-beaded grain,
Through the hamlet-studded plain,
Like a trembling azure vein,
Ran the river to the sea.
With a full and still delight;
For it was as fair a scene as aught in Arcadie:
Through the yellow-beaded grain,
Through the hamlet-studded plain,
Like a trembling azure vein,
Ran the river to the sea.
Spotted belts of cedar-wood
Partly clasped the widening flood;
Like a knot of daisies lay the hamlets on the hill;
In the ancient town below,
Sparks of light would come and go,
And faint voices, strangely low,
From the garrulous old mill.
Partly clasped the widening flood;
Like a knot of daisies lay the hamlets on the hill;
In the ancient town below,
Sparks of light would come and go,
And faint voices, strangely low,
From the garrulous old mill.
Here the land, in grassy swells,
Gently rose; there, sank in dells
With wide mouths of crimson moss, and teeth of rock and peat;
Here, in statue-like repose,
An old wrinkled mountain rose,
With its hoary head in snows
And musk-roses at its feet!
Gently rose; there, sank in dells
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Here, in statue-like repose,
An old wrinkled mountain rose,
With its hoary head in snows
And musk-roses at its feet!
And so oft she sat alone,
In the turret of gray stone,
Looking o'er red miles of heath, dew-dabbled, to the sea,
That there grew a village cry,
How Maud's cheeks did lose their dye,
As a ship, once, sailing by,
Melted on the sapphire lea.
In the turret of gray stone,
Looking o'er red miles of heath, dew-dabbled, to the sea,
That there grew a village cry,
How Maud's cheeks did lose their dye,
As a ship, once, sailing by,
Melted on the sapphire lea.
‘Lady Maud,’ they said, ‘is vain;
With a cold and fine disdain
She walks o'er mead and moorland, she wanders by the sea—
Sits within her tower alone,
Like Œnone carved in stone,
Like the queen of half a zone,
Ah, so icy-proud is she!’
With a cold and fine disdain
She walks o'er mead and moorland, she wanders by the sea—
Sits within her tower alone,
Like Œnone carved in stone,
Like the queen of half a zone,
Ah, so icy-proud is she!’
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When Maud walked abroad, her feet
Seemed far sweeter than the sweet
Wild flowers that would follow her with iridescent eyes;
And the spangled eglantine,
And the honeysuckle vine,
Running round and round the pine
Grew tremulous with surprise.
Seemed far sweeter than the sweet
Wild flowers that would follow her with iridescent eyes;
And the spangled eglantine,
And the honeysuckle vine,
Running round and round the pine
Grew tremulous with surprise.
But she passed by with a stare,
With a half unconscious air,
Making waves of amber froth, upon a sea of maize:
With her large and heavenly eyes
Looking through and through the skies,
As if God's rich paradise,
Were growing upon her gaze!
With a half unconscious air,
Making waves of amber froth, upon a sea of maize:
With her large and heavenly eyes
Looking through and through the skies,
As if God's rich paradise,
Were growing upon her gaze!
Her lone walks led all one way,
And all ended at the gray
And the ragged, jagged rocks, that tooth the dreadful beach;
There Queen Maud would stand, the Sweet!
With the white surf at her feet,
While above her wheeled the fleet
Sparrow-hawk with startling screech.
And all ended at the gray
And the ragged, jagged rocks, that tooth the dreadful beach;
There Queen Maud would stand, the Sweet!
With the white surf at her feet,
While above her wheeled the fleet
Sparrow-hawk with startling screech.
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When the stars had blossomed bright,
And the gardens of the night
Were full of golden marigolds, and violets astir,
Lady Maud would sit alone,
And the sea with inner tone,
Half of melody and moan,
Would rise up and speak with her.
And the gardens of the night
Were full of golden marigolds, and violets astir,
Lady Maud would sit alone,
And the sea with inner tone,
Half of melody and moan,
Would rise up and speak with her.
And she ever loved the sea—
God's half-uttered mystery—
With its million lips of shells, its never-ceasing roar:
And 'twas well that, when she died,
They made Maud a grave beside
The blue pulses of the tide,
'Mong the crags of Elsinore.
God's half-uttered mystery—
With its million lips of shells, its never-ceasing roar:
And 'twas well that, when she died,
They made Maud a grave beside
The blue pulses of the tide,
'Mong the crags of Elsinore.
One chill, red leaf-falling morn,
Many russet Autumns gone,
A lone ship with folded wings, lay dozing off the lea:
It had lain throughout the night,
With its wings of murky white
Folded, after weary flight—
The worn nursling of the sea!
Many russet Autumns gone,
A lone ship with folded wings, lay dozing off the lea:
It had lain throughout the night,
With its wings of murky white
Folded, after weary flight—
The worn nursling of the sea!
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Crowds of peasants flocked the sands;
There were tears and clasping hands;
And a sailor from the ship passed through the kirk-yard gate.
Then amid the grass that crept,
Fading, over her who slept,
How he hid his face and wept,
Crying, ‘Late, alas! too late!’
There were tears and clasping hands;
And a sailor from the ship passed through the kirk-yard gate.
Then amid the grass that crept,
Fading, over her who slept,
How he hid his face and wept,
Crying, ‘Late, alas! too late!’
And they called her cold. God knows ..
Underneath the winter snows,
The invisible hearts of flowers grow ripe for blossoming!
And the lives that look so cold,
If their stories could be told,
Would seem cast in gentler mould,
Would seem full of love and spring.
Underneath the winter snows,
The invisible hearts of flowers grow ripe for blossoming!
And the lives that look so cold,
If their stories could be told,
Would seem cast in gentler mould,
Would seem full of love and spring.
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