 | Hours at Naples, and Other Poems |  |
169
LOVE AND FREEDOM.
'Twas a warrior sheathed in shining arms,
Equipped for the Battle's stern alarms,
A Warrior Youth of the Sunbright East,
With the lance in his hand—the mail on his breast.
Equipped for the Battle's stern alarms,
A Warrior Youth of the Sunbright East,
With the lance in his hand—the mail on his breast.
He mournfully leant, as in sorrowing mood,
Beside a young Maiden—by anguish subdued,
Whose quivering lip, and whose forehead pale,
Told Love's story at once—and her own sad tale!
Beside a young Maiden—by anguish subdued,
Whose quivering lip, and whose forehead pale,
Told Love's story at once—and her own sad tale!
But the fire sprang sudden and fierce to his eye—
He put on the frown, and he forced back the sigh,
And he grasped his weapon with firmer hold,
While he spoke in proud accents, far-thrilling and bold.
He put on the frown, and he forced back the sigh,
And he grasped his weapon with firmer hold,
While he spoke in proud accents, far-thrilling and bold.
170
“I go from the bowers of an ignoble rest,
Now foremost in fight be my Egret crest;
Ere noon hath faded, ere twilight's fall—
Haste!—bring me my banner and Atabal!
Now foremost in fight be my Egret crest;
Ere noon hath faded, ere twilight's fall—
Haste!—bring me my banner and Atabal!
“We will never faulter—and never fly;
We will greatly conquer or greatly die.
Dost thou dare to weep, dost thou dare to show,
Haidée!—this passion of Woman's woe?
We will greatly conquer or greatly die.
Dost thou dare to weep, dost thou dare to show,
Haidée!—this passion of Woman's woe?
“Let Pride in place of Affection spring,
Or at least but forbear my Heart to wring!
Wouldst thou see me a coward and traitor prove—
Oh! love me better—or cease to love!
Or at least but forbear my Heart to wring!
Wouldst thou see me a coward and traitor prove—
Oh! love me better—or cease to love!
“I have thought I loved thee—nay, none shall say
That I worshipped thee not by night and day;
But my Love shall yet deeper and warmer be,
When it burns in a Soul that is chainless and free!
That I worshipped thee not by night and day;
But my Love shall yet deeper and warmer be,
When it burns in a Soul that is chainless and free!
171
“For oh! what is Love if it doth not spring
From Earth to Heaven upon Liberty's wing:
I call it not loving thee, dark-eyed Haidée,
Till I love thee thus—who can feel but the Free!”
From Earth to Heaven upon Liberty's wing:
I call it not loving thee, dark-eyed Haidée,
Till I love thee thus—who can feel but the Free!”
| Hours at Naples, and Other Poems | |