 | England |  |
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KING EDWARD IN PALESTINE.
“Oh, the lofty love of womanhood,
So perilous yet strong!
With the flush of Death upon her cheek,
But no word upon her tongue.”
—Danby's Poems.
So perilous yet strong!
With the flush of Death upon her cheek,
But no word upon her tongue.”
—Danby's Poems.
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:
Beauty, too rich for use, for earth, too dear!
So shows a snowy dove, trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shews.”—Romeo and Juliet.
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear:
Beauty, too rich for use, for earth, too dear!
So shows a snowy dove, trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shews.”—Romeo and Juliet.
Why leaps Queen Eleanora's heart so high,
As thus in Edward's arms she lies at rest?
Why flushes her pale face, dilates her eye;
Why clings she closer to her husband's breast?
O, she is sad, and grievously opprest,
And Death, in visions, sends his shades before!
She sees her lord beneath the assassin prest—
She sees him weltering, helpless, in his gore:
He will not, cannot speak—lost, lost, for evermore!
As thus in Edward's arms she lies at rest?
Why flushes her pale face, dilates her eye;
Why clings she closer to her husband's breast?
O, she is sad, and grievously opprest,
And Death, in visions, sends his shades before!
She sees her lord beneath the assassin prest—
She sees him weltering, helpless, in his gore:
He will not, cannot speak—lost, lost, for evermore!
A thousand years seem to have bound her brain,
Such agonies have burst in that brief hour.
She thought of that fair time, that ne'er again
Shall come, when Edward woo'd her, in her bower—
When love and life were beautiful and pure:
She thought of all that years had stolen away,
Of her brave Prince, since love was in its flower.
These mov'd before her, like a passing ray,
As in that wond'rous dream she saw his body lay!
Such agonies have burst in that brief hour.
She thought of that fair time, that ne'er again
Shall come, when Edward woo'd her, in her bower—
When love and life were beautiful and pure:
She thought of all that years had stolen away,
Of her brave Prince, since love was in its flower.
These mov'd before her, like a passing ray,
As in that wond'rous dream she saw his body lay!
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And more: but hark! the raven flaps the pane!
See, a red light across the heavens darts clear!
She wakes!—O bliss!—she views her lord again!
Soft, at her side, he sleeps devoid of fear.
She views his noble face—his forehead fair,
O'er which the jet black locks profusely flow;
And she deeply feels how very dear
Is he, her monarch, lord, and lover now,
Whom she but late saw bleed beneath the assassin's blow.
See, a red light across the heavens darts clear!
She wakes!—O bliss!—she views her lord again!
Soft, at her side, he sleeps devoid of fear.
She views his noble face—his forehead fair,
O'er which the jet black locks profusely flow;
And she deeply feels how very dear
Is he, her monarch, lord, and lover now,
Whom she but late saw bleed beneath the assassin's blow.
“Edward,” she spake, and his dark eyes flash'd clear—
“Edward, I saw thee, 'neath the traitor's arm.
“Thou wert alone, unarm'd; and, lo! like night,
“When, to the bowers of Eve, her billows swarm,
“Stealthily slow, the murderer work'd thy harm!
“I saw him draw the dagger from his breast—
“I saw it gleam—I saw the blood-drops warm—
“I saw his knees upon thy bosom prest—
“I saw his eyeballs glare—my waking hid the rest!”
“Edward, I saw thee, 'neath the traitor's arm.
“Thou wert alone, unarm'd; and, lo! like night,
“When, to the bowers of Eve, her billows swarm,
“Stealthily slow, the murderer work'd thy harm!
“I saw him draw the dagger from his breast—
“I saw it gleam—I saw the blood-drops warm—
“I saw his knees upon thy bosom prest—
“I saw his eyeballs glare—my waking hid the rest!”
“O, heed it not, sweet spouse,” the monarch said;
“Visions are baseless as the hollow air;”
Then did he wipe away the tears that sped
Along her cheeks, and calm'd her fallen hair.
“Thy dream, sweet spouse, springs forth from secret care:
“It hath no substance, for thou see'st me here;
“Nor ever will I leave thy bosom fair;
“But guard thee, aye, in peril and in fear;
“Yea, love and guard thee still, though hosts should interfere.
“Visions are baseless as the hollow air;”
Then did he wipe away the tears that sped
Along her cheeks, and calm'd her fallen hair.
“Thy dream, sweet spouse, springs forth from secret care:
“It hath no substance, for thou see'st me here;
“Nor ever will I leave thy bosom fair;
“But guard thee, aye, in peril and in fear;
“Yea, love and guard thee still, though hosts should interfere.
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“Calm all thy fears; look up; behold the sky;
“How softly does the mild moon glide along;
“While, pillow'd round, the silver'd cloud-groves lie;
“And the clear stars seem newly wak'd to song:
“Hush'd are the heavens—the earth to sleep is won;
“There is no murmur; even the waves are still,
“And slumber sweetly the white sands among.
“Peace, like a giant, seems to have his will,
“Then, let us rest, dear love, and of blest sleep take fill.”
“How softly does the mild moon glide along;
“While, pillow'd round, the silver'd cloud-groves lie;
“And the clear stars seem newly wak'd to song:
“Hush'd are the heavens—the earth to sleep is won;
“There is no murmur; even the waves are still,
“And slumber sweetly the white sands among.
“Peace, like a giant, seems to have his will,
“Then, let us rest, dear love, and of blest sleep take fill.”
The scene is chang'd!—lo, in a lofty hall,
With all the splendours of the East hung round,
(Rich silks and purples, tapestries, and all
That with bright skies and constant suns abound)
King Edward rests upon the cushion'd ground—
Robed lightly; donn'd his casque, and sword, and spear,
Hauberk and glaive!—beside him, in death-swound,
Lies one all arm'd; his life-blood flowing clear—
From that deep gurgling wound, the king transfixed there!
With all the splendours of the East hung round,
(Rich silks and purples, tapestries, and all
That with bright skies and constant suns abound)
King Edward rests upon the cushion'd ground—
Robed lightly; donn'd his casque, and sword, and spear,
Hauberk and glaive!—beside him, in death-swound,
Lies one all arm'd; his life-blood flowing clear—
From that deep gurgling wound, the king transfixed there!
Again; and who is she, that swan-like form—
That shape imperial?—Lo, she kneeleth down;
Her lips press'd close unto that cruel harm—
That poison'd wound—her king. Oh, happy crown,
That decks that lofty head! Oh, glorious throne,
That bears such virtue, truth, and loveliness!
Oh, blessed land, that such a queen doth own!
Oh, happy husband, how supreme thy bliss!
O crown, throne, kingdom, lord, how vast your happiness!
That shape imperial?—Lo, she kneeleth down;
Her lips press'd close unto that cruel harm—
That poison'd wound—her king. Oh, happy crown,
That decks that lofty head! Oh, glorious throne,
That bears such virtue, truth, and loveliness!
Oh, blessed land, that such a queen doth own!
Oh, happy husband, how supreme thy bliss!
O crown, throne, kingdom, lord, how vast your happiness!
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She doth not fear the poison's agony—
The horrid pains and shoots, and writhing dread;
The fires that burn like hell, and will not die;
She fears them not, who unto love is wed!
Her husband's bosom is her marriage-bed;
And, were he lost, who is her life, her all—
Were he engulphed with the pulseless dead—
With him her life, her joys, her hopes must fall;
And all the world to her, be but a funeral pall!
The horrid pains and shoots, and writhing dread;
The fires that burn like hell, and will not die;
She fears them not, who unto love is wed!
Her husband's bosom is her marriage-bed;
And, were he lost, who is her life, her all—
Were he engulphed with the pulseless dead—
With him her life, her joys, her hopes must fall;
And all the world to her, be but a funeral pall!
O, woman! what will thy fond heart not do;
What will thy soul not dare, when love is near?
Death cannot chain thy stedfast footsteps' flow;
The grave can never clothe thy face with fear!
Where war can never tread, and where the deer
Can never bound, thou, Love, wilt force thy way;
Yea, where the tempests scarce can climb their sphere;
And where, in deserts, nought but horrors stay;
Love still will breathe in smiles, and shed its heavenly ray!
What will thy soul not dare, when love is near?
Death cannot chain thy stedfast footsteps' flow;
The grave can never clothe thy face with fear!
Where war can never tread, and where the deer
Can never bound, thou, Love, wilt force thy way;
Yea, where the tempests scarce can climb their sphere;
And where, in deserts, nought but horrors stay;
Love still will breathe in smiles, and shed its heavenly ray!
It came from heaven, and dwelt in Paradise,
With songs and gladness, among bowers divine;
The softest airs came with it from the skies—
The sweetest scents—the brightest hues that shine:
It came, and fairest flowers did intertwine.
It came, and most celestial hymns arose;
It came, and from it sprung a glorious line
Of household virtues, that dispell'd our woes:
Peace, tenderness, delight—affections' sweet repose.
With songs and gladness, among bowers divine;
The softest airs came with it from the skies—
The sweetest scents—the brightest hues that shine:
It came, and fairest flowers did intertwine.
It came, and most celestial hymns arose;
It came, and from it sprung a glorious line
Of household virtues, that dispell'd our woes:
Peace, tenderness, delight—affections' sweet repose.
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Let the fierce storm-winds of black passion blow—
Let the wild waves of vice uprear their head—
Let the red streams of human madness flow,
Still Love is there to calm their utmost dread:
Love hath a power to beautify the dead,
And plant around the tomb sweet scents and hues:
Time cannot bind it, that, with worlds, is wed;
That o'er eternity doth pour its dews—
That with our life and death its being doth suffuse!
Let the wild waves of vice uprear their head—
Let the red streams of human madness flow,
Still Love is there to calm their utmost dread:
Love hath a power to beautify the dead,
And plant around the tomb sweet scents and hues:
Time cannot bind it, that, with worlds, is wed;
That o'er eternity doth pour its dews—
That with our life and death its being doth suffuse!
I look upon the calm and azure sky—
I look upon the gentle summer sea—
I look upon the meadows blooming nigh—
I look upon the stars that glitter free.
Love paints the heavens, and holds the waves in fee—
Spreads the green pastures where the fairies roam,
And binds the spheres in constant harmony:
Its head in heaven—its feet make earth their home—
Its life is woman's heart, and Mammon is its tomb!
I look upon the gentle summer sea—
I look upon the meadows blooming nigh—
I look upon the stars that glitter free.
Love paints the heavens, and holds the waves in fee—
Spreads the green pastures where the fairies roam,
And binds the spheres in constant harmony:
Its head in heaven—its feet make earth their home—
Its life is woman's heart, and Mammon is its tomb!
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