 | The Baroness of New York |  |
VI.
Her great love grew a steady flame.
The moons rolled by. At last he came
To shorten this long, wayward walk,
To careless turn and careless talk
Of far-off land, of friendships rare,
Of warlike men, of maidens fair,
Of brave old obligations bound
By circumstance to lead him round
The world from her dear presence there.
The moons rolled by. At last he came
To shorten this long, wayward walk,
To careless turn and careless talk
Of far-off land, of friendships rare,
Of warlike men, of maidens fair,
53
By circumstance to lead him round
The world from her dear presence there.
She heard, she spoke not all this while,
Nor answered save with half-feigned smile.
He talked of fates that girt them round
Quite lightly, and he came to deem
His rest had been some South-sea dream
From which he now must rise and go,
Cross seas, strong girt to front the foe.
Nor answered save with half-feigned smile.
He talked of fates that girt them round
Quite lightly, and he came to deem
His rest had been some South-sea dream
From which he now must rise and go,
Cross seas, strong girt to front the foe.
To front the foe or seek a maid
That his long dalliance delayed,
She could not guess. She did not know,
She did not care. She could not speak,
For tears that flooded her pale cheek.
That his long dalliance delayed,
She could not guess. She did not know,
She did not care. She could not speak,
For tears that flooded her pale cheek.
One morn the sound of hammer fell
From out the ship. And then a mast
New-hewn uprose and pointed past
The solid land to mobile seas.
Then days and days that coffin knell
Kept sounding through the silent trees;
And he did hint of ship and sail
And lightly laugh of storm and gale.
From out the ship. And then a mast
New-hewn uprose and pointed past
The solid land to mobile seas.
Then days and days that coffin knell
Kept sounding through the silent trees;
54
And lightly laugh of storm and gale.
She questioned why he would depart.
He careless spoke with careless heart
Of poverty, of pride, of shame,
That he, high born, with honored name,
Should walk upon the world's wide rim
And die with none to honor him.
He careless spoke with careless heart
Of poverty, of pride, of shame,
That he, high born, with honored name,
Should walk upon the world's wide rim
And die with none to honor him.
He said he had one friend, but one,
Who roamed the world in want, alone,
A fellow-prisoner, who fled
With him, with prices on his head.
Who roamed the world in want, alone,
A fellow-prisoner, who fled
With him, with prices on his head.
That they together long had lain,
Bound hand to hand in felons' chain
For freedom's cause: that to this end,
To find his friend forlorn and lone,
And beggared, aye, perchance half dead
That moment, for a crust of bread,
He now must rise and roam again,
And seek the world for that one friend.
She sprang erect, let loose her hold
Of his hard hand. O, ne'er till then
Had she cared aught for shining gold
Or lands, or guild to purchase men.
She sought the priest, fell at his feet,
Implored, and patient did entreat
If he knew aught where the great hoard
Of her dead father's gold was stored,
To tell her true, that she might give
It all, that this man's friend might live.
Bound hand to hand in felons' chain
For freedom's cause: that to this end,
To find his friend forlorn and lone,
And beggared, aye, perchance half dead
That moment, for a crust of bread,
He now must rise and roam again,
And seek the world for that one friend.
55
Of his hard hand. O, ne'er till then
Had she cared aught for shining gold
Or lands, or guild to purchase men.
She sought the priest, fell at his feet,
Implored, and patient did entreat
If he knew aught where the great hoard
Of her dead father's gold was stored,
To tell her true, that she might give
It all, that this man's friend might live.
He shook her off. He turned away,
He tore his long beard, blown and grey,
Then glanced at her. “There's blood! there's blood!
There's heathen blood that all yon flood
Might not for ages wash away!
My child, look here! For many a day,
For many a month, and many a year,
These dim eyes watched your growth, and now
Whose hand shall gather from the bough?
He tore his long beard, blown and grey,
Then glanced at her. “There's blood! there's blood!
There's heathen blood that all yon flood
Might not for ages wash away!
My child, look here! For many a day,
For many a month, and many a year,
These dim eyes watched your growth, and now
Whose hand shall gather from the bough?
“That ship, my lady, shall not pass
To seaward, while I live. Alas!
He takes your heart, your love, and he
Would leave the hollow husk to me.
And now, so less than buccaneer,
Would beg the gold that's buried here.
Your father won it with his sword,
Yet he would beg his gold, this hoard,
From you, poor girl, then take the sea.
He shall not go! He shall not go,
While white moons wane or full tides flow.”
To seaward, while I live. Alas!
He takes your heart, your love, and he
Would leave the hollow husk to me.
56
Would beg the gold that's buried here.
Your father won it with his sword,
Yet he would beg his gold, this hoard,
From you, poor girl, then take the sea.
He shall not go! He shall not go,
While white moons wane or full tides flow.”
| The Baroness of New York | |