University of Virginia Library

III. PART III.

Within the tangled wood-walks deep,
The flowers are drenched with dew
So thick, and overweighed with sleep
So heavily, that few
As slowly, gorgeously the sun
Breaks through a golden mist,
Have held as yet their drooping heads
Up to him to be kissed;
Oh! sweet the breath of summer morn,
Let it meet us where it will,
Sweet as the silence of a Thought
That words may never fill,
The freshness of its unworn smile
So joyous, yet so still!
Lord Ronald from his castle wall
Gazed down the grassy steep,
And saw beneath him smooth and wide
The level Champaign sweep;
On the broad river here and there
Flung like a silver snake,
On many a farm and homestead fair
He marked the sunrise break;
On many a village; then he seemed
To tell them o'er, yet sighed,
As if some thought awoke within
That was not kin to pride:
And, pausing suddenly, he called
To one that passed below,
“Ha Brother! thou art early forth
With dawn, to track the roe!
Come up, for I would speak with thee;
Trust me, thou shalt not rue,
Though I should keep thee till the sun
Drinks from the grass the dew.”
Then lightly Henry climbed the steep,
And answered gay and free,
“Fair brother, little worth were I
To grudge an hour to thee,
From the best quarry that e'er yet
Spread out a lure for me.”
“Brother,” said Ronald, as he looked
On Henry's beaming brow,
“Stand here with me awhile, and gaze
Where I am gazing now;
All, all is thine by lea and wold,
All is thine own, for me
(So aid me Heaven) from Paynim hold
The blessed shrine to free
I go; Nay, stay me not in this,
A vow upon me lies;”
For Henry broke upon his speech
With passion and surprise,
“Let them go to the Holy Wars,
The hard of heart, that leave
No soul of all that call them Lord,
That after them will grieve;
The fierce of hand, for whose red sins
Stern penance may retrieve;
But far be such a thought from thee,
Whom all men love and bless,
Foul wrong it were that thou shouldst go
And leave them fatherless,
That wait and follow on thy hand
For succour and redress.”
“Brother, I treasure up thy love,
Although thy words are lost;
Bethink thee, well my soul ere this
Hath reckoned up the cost;
Still have I striven for right, yet now
The times are wild and rude—
Hard for a man at every hour
To do the thing he would;
Hard, hard, to keep the spirit pure,
The hand unstained with blood!
Brother! I feel that none may need
(As Holy Gospels tell)
Heaven's boon and mercy more than they
Of whom all men speak well;
For there are thoughts that in the heart
Awake as if from sleep,
Unknown to any but the Eye
That looks upon that Deep.
Enough—rule thou for me, and be
Still to the vassals kind,
That they may never bring their Lord
Too sadly unto mind;
And let the ancient feuds die out;
Trust me, enough of strife,
Enough, without our own unrest
Is laid upon our Life;
Keep up the House's ancient name
And live in bounty free,
Keep all, dear brother, till I come
And ask it back of thee!”
But quick spoke Henry, “Gladly now
I share in what is thine,
But little joy if thou wert gone
To have it all for mine;
I love not gifts so well, for them
The Giver to resign!
I know not what hath come to thee
That ever wert so kind,
That thou canst turn from all things loved,
And shake them from thy mind,
As lightly as the thistle's down
Is lifted by the wind;
If all the old love waxes cold
For brother or for thrall,
Yet is there one that used of old
To be more dear than all.
And Sybil—doubtest thou my love
For Sybil? since the hour
When the good knight, her father, fell,
And from the leagured tower
I bore her in these arms through flame
And sword, from foeman's power,
Safe have I shielded her from harm
And nursed her as a flower,
But not to wander far away
And leave her at the last,
Had I not known her horoscope
'Mid happier stars was cast;
Soon in its brighter lines will merge
All traces of the past!
I think she loves thee well, and thou—
Nay! strive not yet to keep
Thy heart from me, for Love will out
Like Murder, e'en in Sleep.
Thyself must woo and win—for me
I cannot aid, though fain,”
He said and smiled, “on maiden's heart
Small hold hath Suzerain!”
But Henry's dark eye flashed; he stood
Uncertain; seldom given
To mortal heart to hear the gates
Roll back that bar its Heaven,
And still it pauses o'er their sound
As doubtful of its bliss;
At length he bent his knee to ground
His brother's hand to kiss,
“For much my soul to thine was bound
But ne'er for aught like this!”