Ballads for the Times (Now first collected,) Geraldine, A Modern Pyramid, Bartenus, A Thousand Lines, and other poems. By Martin F. Tupper. A new Edition, enlarged and revised |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
Conclusion to Part III.
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
 | Ballads for the Times |  |
Conclusion to Part III.
Sweet Christabel, my Christabel,
I have riven thy heart that loved so well:
O weak, O wicked, to rend in its home
The love that I cherish wherever I roam!
As when with his glory the morning sun
Floods on a sudden the tropical sky,
And startled twilight, dim and dun,
Flies from the fear of his conquering eye,
So flash'd across the lighten'd breast
Of Christabel, no more to moan,
A dawn of love, the happiest
Her maiden heart had ever known;
For yea, it was only through powers of hell,
And evil eye, and potent spell,
That Amador to Christabel
Could faithless prove,—
And when she saw him kneeling near,
Contrite, yet more in hope than fear,
Oh then she felt him doubly dear,
Her rescued love.
I have riven thy heart that loved so well:
O weak, O wicked, to rend in its home
The love that I cherish wherever I roam!
341
Floods on a sudden the tropical sky,
And startled twilight, dim and dun,
Flies from the fear of his conquering eye,
So flash'd across the lighten'd breast
Of Christabel, no more to moan,
A dawn of love, the happiest
Her maiden heart had ever known;
For yea, it was only through powers of hell,
And evil eye, and potent spell,
That Amador to Christabel
Could faithless prove,—
And when she saw him kneeling near,
Contrite, yet more in hope than fear,
Oh then she felt him doubly dear,
Her rescued love.
Ave, Maria! unto thee
All the thanks and glory be,
For thy gracious arm and aid
Saved the youth, and blest the maid.
So falls it out, that vanquish'd ill
Breeds only good to good men still,
And while its poison seethes and works
It yields a healing antidote,
Which, whether mortals use or not,
Like a friend in ambush, lurks
Deepest in the deadliest plot.
All the thanks and glory be,
For thy gracious arm and aid
Saved the youth, and blest the maid.
So falls it out, that vanquish'd ill
Breeds only good to good men still,
And while its poison seethes and works
It yields a healing antidote,
Which, whether mortals use or not,
Like a friend in ambush, lurks
Deepest in the deadliest plot.
Not swift, though soon, next day at noon,—
Just at the wedding-hour
As hand-in-hand betroth'd they stand
Beneath the chapel tower,
A holy light,—a vision bright,—
'Twas twelve o'clock at noon,
A spirit good before them stood,
Her garments fair and flowing hair
Shone brighter than the moon.
And thus in musical voice most sweet,—
“Daughter, this hour to grace and greet,
To bless this day, as is most meet,
Thy mother stoops from heaven:
And, ancient men, who all so late
Have stopp'd at Death's half-open'd gate,
In tears of love to drown your hate,
Forgiving and forgiven,
Hear, noble spirits reconciled,
Hear, gracious souls, now meek and mild
Albeit with guilt so long defiled,
Love's lingering boon receive;
Roland de Vaux,—thy long-lost child,
Whom border-troopers, fierce and wild,
An infant from his home beguiled,
Thy soul to gall and grieve,
In Amador—behold!”
Just at the wedding-hour
342
Beneath the chapel tower,
A holy light,—a vision bright,—
'Twas twelve o'clock at noon,
A spirit good before them stood,
Her garments fair and flowing hair
Shone brighter than the moon.
And thus in musical voice most sweet,—
“Daughter, this hour to grace and greet,
To bless this day, as is most meet,
Thy mother stoops from heaven:
And, ancient men, who all so late
Have stopp'd at Death's half-open'd gate,
In tears of love to drown your hate,
Forgiving and forgiven,
Hear, noble spirits reconciled,
Hear, gracious souls, now meek and mild
Albeit with guilt so long defiled,
Love's lingering boon receive;
Roland de Vaux,—thy long-lost child,
Whom border-troopers, fierce and wild,
An infant from his home beguiled,
Thy soul to gall and grieve,
In Amador—behold!”
The spirit said, and all in light
Melted away that vision bright:
My tale is told.
Melted away that vision bright:
My tale is told.
| Ballads for the Times | |