The bridal of Vaumond :: :: University of Virginia Library

And days and weeks have hurried on,
And varying tales have come and gone:
His pledge he comes not to maintain,
Or wash away his nightly stain.
From chivalry's high roll of fame,
They blot the traces of his name;
The escutcheons of his house are torn
From whence they were for ages borne—
The fire upon his hearth hath died;
Broods silence in his halls of pride;
His mother hides within her bower,
And drags a sunless, endless hour;
His father in his cold shroud sleeps,
His sister in her convent weeps;
His lady's love another hath;
His vassals serve another lord;
Eternal infamy's foul breath
Hath breath'd upon the wretch abhorr'd—

And shame her midnight taper burns,
And beauty nauseates, manhood spurns,
Whene'er that name meets ear or sight,
All shedding mildews, blasts, and blight,
On memory of a recreant knight!

II.

Said I of the dishonour'd one,
His lady's love another won?
All, without leasing, I must say—
List to her page, young Paulo's lay.

III.
A Female Heart.

1.

Hast thou e'er mark'd on ocean's breast,
When the wild wave hath sunk to rest,
The golden sunbeam play—
—As upon hearts, as soft, as mild,
And ah! too oft as yielding, wild
Dances fond flattery's ray—
Their frolic measures couldst thou tell,
Or heed their mystic union well?

2.

Or saw'st thou, where the torrent flows,
Above the feathery spray that rose,
The arch their hosts that spann'd?
—As shines o'er minds as light, the bow,
In fond self-love's believing glow
By idle plaudits fann'd—

Couldst thou, with eye undazzled, view,
Catch, ere they merg'd, each mingling hue?

3.

Saw'st thou the strife, when winter's lord
His fleecy store around thee pour'd,
Sparkling in day's glad beam—
—Lost on the white plain now they lie;—
—So shines and sinks, on fancy's eye,
Each fleeting, golden dream—
Their numbers, stranger, couldst thou tell?
And couldst thou mark them, when they fell?

4.

Or hast thou seen, where autumn's blast
Around the forest leaves hath cast—
—Such wreck can passion make!
Destroying all that once was there,
Lovely, of good report, and fair,
The boughs when whirlwinds shake—
And from their traces couldst thou tell
The breeze that bore, or whence they fell?

5.

Or canst thou, on the boundless deep,
The pilot lost instruct, where sleep
The treacherous rock and shoal—
—As darkling oft on passion's waste,
The bark unheedingly is cast,
A shipwreck of the soul—
Know'st thou where'er gaunt danger's head
Lurks beneath ocean's giant bed?

6.

Hast thou beheld the mountain drest
With glory, in whose tortur'd Breast
Revels the pent up storm—
—As souls distraught and hearts on fire,
Enkindled with demoniac ire,
Lurk oft in angel form—
Know'st thou how soon the mountain riv'n
Will pour its volumes red to heaven?

7.

Gaze on yon vault of mystery,
Scan, if thou may'st the galaxy,
And number every world:
Its course fulfill'd, proclaim these, burst
Its bonds, what star shall perish first,
Unspher'd, in ruin hurl'd!
Then, stranger, thou hast wondrous art,
And thou can'st read a female heart.

IV.

What past within the maiden's breast
Must be for ever unconfest;
Alas! a deeper power than sways
The thoughts of women, she obeys!
Yet ill it were, I ween, to deem
That in that wild, unnatural dream,
The memory of Lodowick came
Never, to wrap in shroud of flame
Her spell-bound heart—but he is naught,
And wherefore give his name one thought?
A soul-absorbing passion wrought;
Profane not love—love it was not.

V.

Her father to the Baron's walls
Conducts the wilder'd maid;
She graces now the chieftain's halls,
The rites shall soon be said.
And, while her bridal robe she decks,
Brief flight from memory dark she seeks
In listening to the page's lay;
He whiled his solitary day,
That lonely boy, in secret bower,
And with his harp beguil'd the hour.
No eye, save her's, he dar'd to meet,
No heart, save her's, his sorrow cheer'd—
Her service mild, her mandate sweet,
He lov'd to own, nor peril fear'd.
And ever would he sing of love,
And such the idle lay he wove.

VI.
Love and Friendship.

Love is like the solar tide,
That flings its tameless glories wide;
Friendship, Dian's purer beaming,
Chaster o'er earth's darkness gleaming.

Love is like the deep, unbounded,
That its banks full oft o'erflows,
Where the sailor, oft confounded,
Finds in death alone repose.

Friendship, like a noble river,
Rolls its stately waters by;
Tempest-toss'd and troubled never,
Gliding to eternity.

Love, the miser's wish obtain'd,
Palls upon the sated soul;
Sought with life, and loath'd when gain'd,
'Tis possession drugs the bowl.

Friendship, like the Christian's hope,
Fix'd, unchanging and sublime;
Wider grasping in its scope,
And confirm'd by fleeting time.

Love, a plant of fragile form,
Fir'd by ardent suns to birth,
Shrinks before the whelming storm,
Withering, dies and sinks to earth.

Friendship, Ætna's giant tree,
Slowly rising, rooted fast,

In the middle region of Ætna are chesnut-trees of an enormous size, the circumference of one of which is 204 feet, or more, say others. See particularly Denon. The tree called κατ' εξοχην, THE Castagno, is apparently a union of several trunks; but the Canon Recupero assured Mr. Brydone, that he had found by digging that they were united at the root. This excavation will contain a large troop of horse.

Brav'd the mountain revelry,
And the fiery flood that past!

VII.

The lady smil'd to hear the boy,
With themes too high, in numbers toy.
“My little page, thy minstrelsy
Well suits youth's untried hour;
But hearken to my prophecy,
For thou wilt prove its power.

Dazzled with light, on ocean tost,
Thy riper bark will yet be lost;
When thou shalt seek, with burning soul,
To taste and drain the enchanted bowl!
And thou shalt find the heavens o'ercast,
Where clouds of mortal passion past;
The stately stream its bounds shall burst,
Or shrink before the might of day;
When hatred lights his torch accurst,
Pale hope shall quench her sickly ray;—
The giant stem, that brav'd the storm,
Its roots destroy'd by preying worm,
Shall sink on earth—and where it fell,
Its wrecks the common annals tell.”

VIII.

“Few years, my lady, have I seen,
My term of trial brief hath been;
But sad experience, on my sight,
Hath yet unroll'd her veil of night.
I had a sister once; and none
Awoke the lay with livelier tone
In southern plains; as light and gay
As the blythe birds, that trill'd their lay
In every vale, from every spray.
Pure, as the bleating flocks she led,
With jocund heart, along the mead—
And modest as the blushing glow,
When first the lovely almonds blow,
As gentle, soft, and pure;—
But ah! like it, her beauties shone
Ere riper wisdom was her own;
The bloom was premature!

The almond-tree blows before it has its foliage; and towards the end of February, its delicious fruit is eatable. Hager.

IX.

“The shepherd's pipe and tender tale
Contended vainly to prevail;
Their vows of faith she heard and met
With firm refusal, yet so sweet,
They mourn'd, and yet could but adore,
Despairing, but admiring more.

X.

“One morn we saw her not; the swain
Sought to behold her, but in vain—
The breeze wafts not her music bland;
Her flocks in idle wonder stand,
Watching, as if that form to see,
That long they follow'd joyously—
List'ning, as if to hear her tread,
From whose kind hand so oft they fed:
Her crook hangs idly by; her lute
Within the cot is still and mute;—
Yes, she was gone; surprise and grief,
Hope and despair, with influence brief,
All came by turns; but she was gone—
Her flight unmark'd—her doom unknown.

XI.

“Her fate I learnt, when fortune's ire
Had robb'd me of my sainted sire
And of his cheerless dame:
Peace to the sod wherein they sleep!
Hither was led my wandering step,
Here, where my sister came.
With simple tale of misery
I will not weary, lady high;—

Suffice to say, a baron bold
Had lur'd her from her parent fold:
With honey'd word and treachery foul,
He woo'd her ear and won her soul.

XII.

“And long he hid his trusting prize,
In castle proud, from kindred eyes.
In secret, with too rapid wings,
Unholy transports fled—
Till the poor dupe her offerings
To vain repentance made—
When cold neglect infix'd his stings,
The spoiler's passion dead.

XIII.

“He car'd no more to feign a flame
He never felt; but lest a name,
Rank'd high in knighthood's scroll,
From her foul wrongs dark blot should bear,
He guarded her with anxious care,
Till from his grasp she stole.
And where she wanders now, the eye
That mark'd her crimes, and heard her cry
For mercy, knows alone;
O lady, 'tis too trite a tale!—
Man call'd her fair, he prov'd her frail,
She bloom'd, and was undone!”

XIV

“Thou prat'st of love, my little Page—
Come, tell me thine opinion sage;
Can love be twice awoke?”

A burning blush came mantling high,
And downcast was the lady's eye,
As thus she faultering spoke.
Scap'd from the Page some mutter'd words,
Wild were his dark locks flung,
And wild and quick he swept the chords,
As thus the fair boy sung.

XV.
The Unfaithful.

The honey in his throat,

“People assign different reasons for the return of the doves to their home. Malaterra says it is effected by means of grain dipped in honey, &c. According to others, it is owing to the separation of the female dove from her young; or the male from his mate. When their separation lasts long, the memory grows feedle, and no dependance can be placed upon him. According to all accounts, fourteen days are sufficient to make the mother forget her young; the male probably will forget his love much sooner.” Hager.

The billet in his beak,
The lonely dove will float
Mid skies serene or bleak:
He lingers not behind,
His course is homeward bent,
And swifter than the wind
He cuts the firmament.
His home is in his mind,
Nor wavers his intent—
And, till his mate he find,
His strength is never spent.

His pinions never tire
O'er deserts wild and waste,
Though skies are all on fire,
Or heaven is overcast.
He never stays his wing
O'er realms most blest and bright,
The balmy gale of spring
But speeds him in his flight.

But earth is wide and great,
And foaming seas are broad,
If he forgets his mate,
He wanders from his road.

His nest he hath forgot,
His pinions wildly roam;
The letter he brings not,
He never finds his home!
Who their first loves forget
From thy communion sever,
They ne'er were faithful yet,
They can be trusted never.
Who their first loves forget
By every gale are tost,
And left a wreck by fate
On passion's blighted coast!

XVI.

Approach'd them now a stately tread;
The Page from the apartment sped,
But, ere he went, he paus'd, and threw
Upon the dame his anxious view.
His look a labouring heart betray'd,
As if he something would have said,
Some hidden secret had reveal'd—
But mightier power his lips had seal'd.
A look of pity 'twas—but fraught
With tokens of some darker thought.
“Lady”—he said, when at the door
The Baron's step was heard—he spake no more.

XVII.

No time to read, then had the maid,
All in that wilder'd look convey'd.
“All nature blooms, my lovely bride,
She blooms for thee,” the Baron cried.
“What were the glorious arch above,
Of peace profound and mystic love—
Would it have canopied our earth,
If beauty never sprang to birth?
Her eye, so darkly rolling, tells
Weak man of all the bliss that dwells
Beyond yon azure sky.
Why sighs the zephyr, but to bear
Her balmy breath in upper air,
To realms of purity?
Her carpet why hath nature spread,
If not for beauty's fairy tread?
And why her myriad, countless hues
Flings she around, with hand profuse,
From evening's tears and summer's showers,
From all her fruits and all her flowers,
On towering mount, in valley green,
If not to hail and bless their queen?
All nature blooms, yet languishes,
Until her fairest boast she sees:
Come then, my bride, with me to prove
The universal sympathy of love.”

University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI. THE WARNING.

I.

II.

III. A Female Heart.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

IV.

V.

VI. Love and Friendship.