The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Volume 2

THIRD PART

I

 
'Tis a morn for a bridal; the merry bride-bell
Rings clear through the green-wood that skirts the chapelle,
And the priest at the altar awaiteth the bride,
And the sacristans slyly are jesting aside
At the work shall be doing;
 

II

 
While down through the wood rides that fair company,
The youths with the courtship, the maids with the glee,
Till the chapel-cross opens to sight, and at once
All the maids sigh demurely and think for the nonce,
"And so endeth a wooing!"
 

III

 
And the bride and the bridegroom are leading the way,
With his hand on her rein, and a word yet to say;
Her dropt eyelids suggest the soft answers beneath,
And the little quick smiles come and go with her breath
When she sigheth or speaketh.
 

IV

 
And the tender bride-mother breaks off unaware
From an Ave, to think that her daughter is fair,
Till in nearing the chapel and glancing before,
She seeth her little son stand at the door:
Is it play that he seeketh?
 

V

 
Is it play, when his eyes wander innocent-wild
And sublimed with a sadness unfitting a child?
He trembles not, weeps not; the passion is done,
And calmly he kneels in their midst, with the sun
On his head like a glory.
 

VI

 
"O fair-featured maids, ye are many!" he cried,
"But in fairness and vileness who matcheth the bride?
O brave-hearted youths, ye are many! but whom
For the courage and woe can ye match with the groom
As ye see them before ye?"
 

VII

 
Out spake the bride's mother, "The vileness is thine
If thou shame thine own sister, a bride at the shrine!"
Out spake the bride's lover, "The vileness be mine
If he shame mine own wife at the hearth or the shrine
And the charge be unprovèd.
 

VIII

 
"Bring the charge, prove the charge, brother! speak it aloud:
Let thy father and hers hear it deep in his shroud!"
– "O father, thou seest, for dead eyes can see,
How she wears on her bosom a BROWN ROSARY,
O my father belovèd!"
 

IX

 
Then outlaughed the bridegroom, and outlaughed withal
Both maidens and youths by the old chapel-wall:
"So she weareth no love-gift, kind brother," quoth he,
"She may wear an she listeth a brown rosary,
Like a pure-hearted lady."
 

X

 
Then swept through the chapel the long bridal train;
Though he spake to the bride she replied not again:
On, as one in a dream, pale and stately she went
Where the altar-lights burn o'er the great sacrament,
Faint with daylight, but steady.
 

XI

 
But her brother had passed in between them and her,
And calmly knelt down on the high-altar stair —
Of an infantine aspect so stern to the view
That the priest could not smile on the child's eyes of blue
As he would for another.
 

XII

 
He knelt like a child marble-sculptured and white
That seems kneeling to pray on the tomb of a knight,
With a look taken up to each iris of stone
From the greatness and death where he kneeleth, but none
From the face of a mother.
 

XIII

 
"In your chapel, O priest, ye have wedded and shriven
Fair wives for the hearth, and fair sinners for heaven;
But this fairest my sister, ye think now to wed,
Bid her kneel where she standeth, and shrive her instead:
O shrive her and wed not!"
 

XIV

 
In tears, the bride's mother, – "Sir priest, unto thee
Would he lie, as he lied to this fair company."
In wrath, the bride's lover, – "The lie shall be clear!
Speak it out, boy! the saints in their niches shall hear:
Be the charge proved or said not!"
 

XV

 
Then serene in his childhood he lifted his face,
And his voice sounded holy and fit for the place, —
"Look down from your niches, ye still saints, and see
How she wears on her bosom a BROWN ROSARY!
Is it used for the praying?"
 

XVI

 
The youths looked aside – to laugh there were a sin —
And the maidens' lips trembled from smiles shut within.
Quoth the priest, "Thou art wild, pretty boy! Blessed she
Who prefers at her bridal a brown rosary
To a worldly arraying."
 

XVII

 
The bridegroom spake low and led onward the bride
And before the high altar they stood side by side:
The rite-book is opened, the rite is begun,
They have knelt down together to rise up as one.
Who laughed by the altar?
 

XVIII

 
The maidens looked forward, the youths looked around,
The bridegroom's eye flashed from his prayer at the sound;
And each saw the bride, as if no bride she were,
Gazing cold at the priest without gesture of prayer,
As he read from the psalter.
 

XIX

 
The priest never knew that she did so, but still
He felt a power on him too strong for his will:
And whenever the Great Name was there to be read,
His voice sank to silence – THAT could not be said,
Or the air could not hold it.
 

XX

 
"I have sinnèd," quoth he, "I have sinnèd, I wot" —
And the tears ran adown his old cheeks at the thought:
They dropped fast on the book, but he read on the same,
And aye was the silence where should be the Name, —
As the choristers told it.
 

XXI

 
The rite-book is closed, and the rite being done
They, who knelt down together, arise up as one:
Fair riseth the bride – Oh, a fair bride is she,
But, for all (think the maidens) that brown rosary,
No saint at her praying!
 

XXII

 
What aileth the bridegroom? He glares blank and wide;
Then suddenly turning he kisseth the bride;
His lips stung her with cold; she glanced upwardly mute:
"Mine own wife," he said, and fell stark at her foot
In the word he was saying.
 

XXIII

 
They have lifted him up, but his head sinks away,
And his face showeth bleak in the sunshine and grey.
Leave him now where he lieth – for oh, never more
Will he kneel at an altar or stand on a floor!
Let his bride gaze upon him.
 

XXIV

 
Long and still was her gaze while they chafèd him there
And breathed in the mouth whose last life had kissed her,
But when they stood up – only they! with a start
The shriek from her soul struck her pale lips apart:
She has lived, and forgone him!
 

XXV

 
And low on his body she droppeth adown —
"Didst call me thine own wife, belovèd – thine own?
Then take thine own with thee! thy coldness is warm
To the world's cold without thee! Come, keep me from harm
In a calm of thy teaching!"
 

XXVI

 
She looked in his face earnest-long, as in sooth
There were hope of an answer, and then kissed his mouth,
And with head on his bosom, wept, wept bitterly, —
"Now, O God, take pity – take pity on me!
God, hear my beseeching!"
 

XXVII

 
She was 'ware of a shadow that crossed where she lay,
She was 'ware of a presence that withered the day:
Wild she sprang to her feet, – "I surrender to thee
The broken vow's pledge, the accursed rosary, —
I am ready for dying!"
 

XXVIII

 
She dashed it in scorn to the marble-paved ground
Where it fell mute as snow, and a weird music-sound
Crept up, like a chill, up the aisles long and dim, —
As the fiends tried to mock at the choristers' hymn
And moaned in the trying.
 

FOURTH PART

 
Onora looketh listlessly adown the garden walk:
"I am weary, O my mother, of thy tender talk.
I am weary of the trees a-waving to and fro,
Of the steadfast skies above, the running brooks below.
All things are the same, but I, – only I am dreary,
And, mother, of my dreariness behold me very weary.
"Mother, brother, pull the flowers I planted in the spring
And smiled to think I should smile more upon their gathering:
The bees will find out other flowers – oh, pull them, dearest mine,
And carry them and carry me before Saint Agnes' shrine."
– Whereat they pulled the summer flowers she planted in the spring,
And her and them all mournfully to Agnes' shrine did bring.
 
 
She looked up to the pictured saint and gently shook her head —
"The picture is too calm for me– too calm for me," she said:
"The little flowers we brought with us, before it we may lay,
For those are used to look at heaven, – but I must turn away,
Because no sinner under sun can dare or bear to gaze
On God's or angel's holiness, except in Jesu's face."
She spoke with passion after pause – "And were it wisely done
If we who cannot gaze above, should walk the earth alone?
If we whose virtue is so weak should have a will so strong,
And stand blind on the rocks to choose the right path from the wrong?
To choose perhaps a love-lit hearth, instead of love and heaven, —
A single rose, for a rose-tree which beareth seven times seven?
A rose that droppeth from the hand, that fadeth in the breast, —
Until, in grieving for the worst, we learn what is the best!"
Then breaking into tears, – "Dear God," she cried, "and must we see
All blissful things depart from us or ere we go to Thee?
We cannot guess Thee in the wood or hear Thee in the wind?
Our cedars must fall round us ere we see the light behind?
Ay sooth, we feel too strong, in weal, to need thee on that road,
But woe being come, the soul is dumb that crieth not on 'God.'"
 
 
Her mother could not speak for tears; she ever musèd thus,
"The bees will find out other flowers, – but what is left for us?"
But her young brother stayed his sobs and knelt beside her knee,
– "Thou sweetest sister in the world, hast never a word for me?"
She passed her hand across his face, she pressed it on his cheek,
So tenderly, so tenderly – she needed not to speak.
The wreath which lay on shrine that day, at vespers bloomed no more.
The woman fair who placed it there had died an hour before.
Both perished mute for lack of root, earth's nourishment to reach.
O reader, breathe (the ballad saith) some sweetness out of each!
 

A ROMANCE OF THE GANGES

I

 
Seven maidens 'neath the midnight
Stand near the river-sea
Whose water sweepeth white around
The shadow of the tree;
The moon and earth are face to face,
And earth is slumbering deep;
The wave-voice seems the voice of dreams
That wander through her sleep:
The river floweth on.
 

II

 
What bring they 'neath the midnight,
Beside the river-sea?
They bring the human heart wherein
No nightly calm can be, —
That droppeth never with the wind,
Nor drieth with the dew:
Oh, calm in God! thy calm is broad
To cover spirits too.
The river floweth on.
 

III

 
The maidens lean them over
The waters, side by side,
And shun each other's deepening eyes,
And gaze adown the tide;
For each within a little boat
A little lamp hath put,
And heaped for freight some lily's weight
Or scarlet rose half shut.
The river floweth on.
 

IV

 
Of shell of cocoa carven
Each little boat is made;
Each carries a lamp, and carries a flower,
And carries a hope unsaid;
And when the boat hath carried the lamp
Unquenched till out of sight,
The maiden is sure that love will endure;
But love will fail with light.
The river floweth on.
 

V

 
Why, all the stars are ready
To symbolize the soul,
The stars untroubled by the wind,
Unwearied as they roll;
And yet the soul by instinct sad
Reverts to symbols low —
To that small flame, whose very name
Breathed o'er it, shakes it so!
The river floweth on.
 

VI

 
Six boats are on the river,
Seven maidens on the shore,
While still above them steadfastly
The stars shine evermore.
Go, little boats, go soft and safe,
And guard the symbol spark!
The boats aright go safe and bright
Across the waters dark.
The river floweth on.
 

VII

 
The maiden Luti watcheth
Where onwardly they float:
That look in her dilating eyes
Might seem to drive her boat:
Her eyes still mark the constant fire,
And kindling unawares
That hopeful while, she lets a smile
Creep silent through her prayers.
The river floweth on.
 

VIII

 
The smile – where hath it wandered?
She riseth from her knee,
She holds her dark, wet locks away —
There is no light to see!
She cries a quick and bitter cry —
"Nuleeni, launch me thine!
We must have light abroad to-night,
For all the wreck of mine."
The river floweth on.
 

IX

 
"I do remember watching
Beside this river-bed
When on my childish knee was leaned
My dying father's head;
I turned mine own to keep the tears
From falling on his face:
What doth it prove when Death and Love
Choose out the self-same place?"
The river floweth on.
 

X

 
"They say the dead are joyful
The death-change here receiving:
Who say – ah me! who dare to say
Where joy comes to the living?
Thy boat, Nuleeni! look not sad —
Light up the waters rather!
I weep no faithless lover where
I wept a loving father."
The river floweth on.
 

XI

 
"My heart foretold his falsehood
Ere my little boat grew dim;
And though I closed mine eyes to dream
That one last dream of him,
They shall not now be wet to see
The shining vision go:
From earth's cold love I look above
To the holy house of snow."²
The river floweth on.
 

XII

 
"Come thou – thou never knewest
A grief, that thou shouldst fear one!
Thou wearest still the happy look
That shines beneath a dear one:
Thy humming-bird is in the sun,³
Thy cuckoo in the grove,
And all the three broad worlds, for thee
Are full of wandering love."
The river floweth on.
 

XIII

 
"Why, maiden, dost thou loiter?
What secret wouldst thou cover?
That peepul cannot hide thy boat,
And I can guess thy lover;
I heard thee sob his name in sleep,
It was a name I knew:
Come, little maid, be not afraid,
But let us prove him true!"
The river floweth on.
 

XIV

 
The little maiden cometh,
She cometh shy and slow;
I ween she seeth through her lids
They drop adown so low:
Her tresses meet her small bare feet,
She stands and speaketh nought,
Yet blusheth red as if she said
The name she only thought.
The river floweth on.
 

XV

 
She knelt beside the water,
She lighted up the flame,
And o'er her youthful forehead's calm
The fitful radiance came: —
"Go, little boat, go soft and safe,
And guard the symbol spark!"
Soft, safe doth float the little boat
Across the waters dark.
The river floweth on.
 

XVI

 
Glad tears her eyes have blinded,
The light they cannot reach;
She turneth with that sudden smile
She learnt before her speech —
"I do not hear his voice, the tears
Have dimmed my light away,
But the symbol light will last to-night,
The love will last for aye!"
The river floweth on.
 

XVII

 
Then Luti spake behind her,
Outspake she bitterly —
"By the symbol light that lasts to-night,
Wilt vow a vow to me?"
Nuleeni gazeth up her face,
Soft answer maketh she —
"By loves that last when lights are past,
I vow that vow to thee!"
The river floweth on.
 

XVIII

 
An earthly look had Luti
Though her voice was deep as prayer —
"The rice is gathered from the plains
To cast upon thine hair:⁴
But when he comes his marriage-band
Around thy neck to throw,
Thy bride-smile raise to meet his gaze,
And whisper, —There is one betrays,
While Luti suffers woe."
The river floweth on.
 

XIX

 
"And when in seasons after,
Thy little bright-faced son
Shall lean against thy knee and ask
What deeds his sire hath done, —
Press deeper down thy mother-smile
His glossy curls among,
View deep his pretty childish eyes,
And whisper, —There is none denies,
While Luti speaks of wrong."
The river floweth on.
 

XX

 
Nuleeni looked in wonder,
Yet softly answered she —
"By loves that last when lights are past,
I vowed that vow to thee:
But why glads it thee that a bride-day be
By a word of woe defiled?
That a word of wrong take the cradle-song
From the ear of a sinless child?"
"Why?" Luti said, and her laugh was dread,
And her eyes dilated wild —
"That the fair new love may her bridegroom prove,
And the father shame the child!"
The river floweth on.
 

XXI

 
"Thou flowest still, O river,
Thou flowest 'neath the moon;
Thy lily hath not changed a leaf,⁵
Thy charmèd lute a tune:
He mixed his voice with thine and his
Was all I heard around;
But now, beside his chosen bride,
I hear the river's sound."
The river floweth on.
 

XXII

 
"I gaze upon her beauty
Through the tresses that enwreathe it;
The light above thy wave, is hers —
My rest, alone beneath it:
Oh, give me back the dying look
My father gave thy water!
Give back – and let a little love
O'erwatch his weary daughter!"
The river floweth on.
 

XXIII

 
"Give back!" she hath departed —
The word is wandering with her;
And the stricken maidens hear afar
The step and cry together.
Frail symbols? None are frail enow
For mortal joys to borrow! —
While bright doth float Nuleeni's boat,
She weepeth dark with sorrow.
The river floweth on.
 

RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY

I

 
To the belfry, one by one, went the ringers from the sun,
Toll slowly.
And the oldest ringer said, "Ours is music for the dead
When the rebecks are all done."
 

II

 
Six abeles i' the churchyard grow on the north side in a row,
Toll slowly.
And the shadows of their tops rock across the little slopes
Of the grassy graves below.
 

III

 
On the south side and the west a small river runs in haste,
Toll slowly.
And, between the river flowing and the fair green trees a-growing,
Do the dead lie at their rest.
 

IV

 
On the east I sate that day, up against a willow grey:
Toll slowly.
Through the rain of willow-branches I could see the low hill-ranges
And the river on its way.
 

V

 
There I sate beneath the tree, and the bell tolled solemnly,
Toll slowly.
While the trees' and river's voices flowed between the solemn noises, —
Yet death seemed more loud to me.
 

VI

 
There I read this ancient rhyme while the bell did all the time
Toll slowly.
And the solemn knell fell in with the tale of life and sin,
Like a rhythmic fate sublime.
 

THE RHYME

I

 
Broad the forests stood (I read) on the hills of Linteged,
Toll slowly.
And three hundred years had stood mute adown each hoary wood,
Like a full heart having prayed.
 

II

 
And the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,
Toll slowly.
And but little thought was theirs of the silent antique years,
In the building of their nest.
 

III

 
Down the sun dropt large and red on the towers of Linteged, —
Toll slowly.
Lance and spear upon the height, bristling strange in fiery light,
While the castle stood in shade.
 

IV

 
There the castle stood up black with the red sun at its back —
Toll slowly—
Like a sullen smouldering pyre with a top that flickers fire
When the wind is on its track.
 

V

 
And five hundred archers tall did besiege the castle wall —
Toll slowly.
And the castle, seethed in blood, fourteen days and nights had stood
And to-night was near its fall.
 

VI

 
Yet thereunto, blind to doom, three months since, a bride did come —
Toll slowly.
One who proudly trod the floors and softly whispered in the doors,
"May good angels bless our home."
 

VII

 
Oh, a bride of queenly eyes, with a front of constancies:
Toll slowly.
Oh, a bride of cordial mouth where the untired smile of youth
Did light outward its own sighs!
 

VIII

 
'T was a Duke's fair orphan-girl, and her uncle's ward – the Earl —
Toll slowly.
Who betrothed her twelve years old, for the sake of dowry gold,
To his son Lord Leigh the churl.
 

IX

 
But what time she had made good all her years of womanhood —
Toll slowly.
Unto both these lords of Leigh spake she out right sovranly,
"My will runneth as my blood.
 

X

 
"And while this same blood makes red this same right hand's veins," she said —
Toll slowly—
"'T is my will, as lady free, not to wed a lord of Leigh,
But Sir Guy of Linteged."
 

XI

 
The old Earl he smilèd smooth, then he sighed for wilful youth —
Toll slowly.
"Good my niece, that hand withal looketh somewhat soft and small
For so large a will, in sooth."
 

XII

 
She too smiled by that same sign, but her smile was cold and fine —
Toll slowly.
"Little hand clasps muckle gold, or it were not worth the hold
Of thy son, good uncle mine!"
 

XIII

 
Then the young lord jerked his breath, and sware thickly in his teeth —
Toll slowly—
"He would wed his own betrothed, an she loved him an she loathed,
Let the life come or the death."
 

XIV

 
Up she rose with scornful eyes, as her father's child might rise —
Toll slowly.
"Thy hound's blood, my lord of Leigh, stains thy knightly heel," quoth she,
"And he moans not where he lies:
 

XV

 
"But a woman's will dies hard, in the hall or on the sward" —
Toll slowly.
"By that grave, my lords, which made me orphaned girl and dowered lady,
I deny you wife and ward!"
 

XVI

 
Unto each she bowed her head and swept past with lofty tread.
Toll slowly.
Ere the midnight-bell had ceased, in the chapel had the priest
Blessed her, bride of Linteged.
 

XVII

 
Fast and fain the bridal train along the night-storm rode amain —
Toll slowly.
Hard the steeds of lord and serf struck their hoofs out on the turf,
In the pauses of the rain.
 

XVIII

 
Fast and fain the kinsmen's train along the storm pursued amain —
Toll slowly.
Steed on steed-track, dashing off, – thickening, doubling, hoof on hoof,
In the pauses of the rain.
 

XIX

 
And the bridegroom led the flight on his red-roan steed of might —
Toll slowly.
And the bride lay on his arm, still, as if she feared no harm,
Smiling out into the night.
 

XX

 
"Dost thou fear?" he said at last. "Nay," she answered him in haste, —
Toll slowly.
"Not such death as we could find – only life with one behind.
Ride on fast as fear, ride fast!"
 

XXI

 
Up the mountain wheeled the steed – girth to ground, and fetlocks spread —
Toll slowly.
Headlong bounds, and rocking flanks, – down he staggered, down the banks,
To the towers of Linteged.
 

XXII

 
High and low the serfs looked out, red the flambeaus tossed about —
Toll slowly.
In the courtyard rose the cry, "Live the Duchess and Sir Guy!"
But she never heard them shout.
 

XXIII

 
On the steed she dropped her cheek, kissed his mane and kissed his neck —
Toll slowly.
"I had happier died by thee than lived on, a Lady Leigh,"
Were the first words she did speak.
 

XXIV

 
But a three months' joyaunce lay 'twixt that moment and to-day —
Toll slowly.
When five hundred archers tall stand beside the castle wall
To recapture Duchess May.
 

XXV

 
And the castle standeth black with the red sun at its back —
Toll slowly.
And a fortnight's siege is done, and, except the duchess, none
Can misdoubt the coming wrack.
 

XXVI

 
Then the captain, young Lord Leigh, with his eyes so grey of blee —
Toll slowly.
And thin lips that scarcely sheath the cold white gnashing of his teeth,
Gnashed in smiling, absently, —
 

XXVII

 
Cried aloud, "So goes the day, bridegroom fair of Duchess May!"
Toll slowly.
"Look thy last upon that sun! if thou seest to-morrow's one
'T will be through a foot of clay.
 

XXVIII

 
"Ha, fair bride! dost hear no sound save that moaning of the hound?"
Toll slowly.
"Thou and I have parted troth, yet I keep my vengeance-oath,
And the other may come round.
 

XXIX

 
"Ha! thy will is brave to dare, and thy new love past compare" —
Toll slowly.
"Yet thine old love's falchion brave is as strong a thing to have,
As the will of lady fair.
 

XXX

 
"Peck on blindly, netted dove! If a wife's name thee behove" —
Toll slowly—
"Thou shalt wear the same to-morrow, ere the grave has hid the sorrow
Of thy last ill-mated love.
 

XXXI

 
"O'er his fixed and silent mouth, thou and I will call back troth":
Toll slowly.
"He shall altar be and priest, – and he will not cry at least
'I forbid you, I am loth!'
 

XXXII

 
"I will wring thy fingers pale in the gauntlet of my mail":
Toll slowly.
"'Little hand and muckle gold' close shall lie within my hold,
As the sword did, to prevail."
 

XXXIII

 
Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west —
Toll slowly.
Oh, and laughed the Duchess May, and her soul did put away
All his boasting, for a jest.
 

XXXIV

 
In her chamber did she sit, laughing low to think of it, —
Toll slowly.
"Tower is strong and will is free: thou canst boast, my lord of Leigh,
But thou boastest little wit."
 

XXXV

 
In her tire-glass gazèd she, and she blushed right womanly —
Toll slowly.
She blushed half from her disdain, half her beauty was so plain,
– "Oath for oath, my lord of Leigh!"
 

XXXVI

 
Straight she called her maidens in – "Since ye gave me blame herein" —
Toll slowly—
"That a bridal such as mine should lack gauds to make it fine,
Come and shrive me from that sin.
 

XXXVII

 
"It is three months gone to-day since I gave mine hand away":
Toll slowly.
"Bring the gold and bring the gem, we will keep bride-state in them,
While we keep the foe at bay.
 

XXXVIII

 
"On your arms I loose mine hair; comb it smooth and crown it fair":
Toll slowly.
"I would look in purple pall from this lattice down the wall,
And throw scorn to one that's there!"
 

XXXIX

 
Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west —
Toll slowly.
On the tower the castle's lord leant in silence on his sword,
With an anguish in his breast.
 

XL

 
With a spirit-laden weight did he lean down passionate:
Toll slowly.
They have almost sapped the wall, – they will enter therewithal
With no knocking at the gate.
 

XLI

 
Then the sword he leant upon, shivered, snapped upon the stone —
Toll slowly.
"Sword," he thought, with inward laugh, "ill thou servest for a staff
When thy nobler use is done!
 

XLII

 
"Sword, thy nobler use is done! tower is lost, and shame begun!" —
Toll slowly.
"If we met them in the breach, hilt to hilt or speech to speech,
We should die there, each for one.
 

XLIII

 
"If we met them at the wall, we should singly, vainly fall" —
Toll slowly.
"But if I die here alone, – then I die who am but one,
And die nobly for them all.
 

XLIV

 
"Five true friends lie for my sake in the moat and in the brake" —
Toll slowly.
"Thirteen warriors lie at rest with a black wound in the breast,
And not one of these will wake.
 

XLV

 
"So, no more of this shall be! heart-blood weighs too heavily" —
Toll slowly.
"And I could not sleep in grave, with the faithful and the brave
Heaped around and over me.
 

XLVI

 
"Since young Clare a mother hath, and young Ralph a plighted faith" —
Toll slowly.
"Since my pale young sister's cheeks blush like rose when Ronald speaks,
Albeit never a word she saith —
 

XLVII

 
"These shall never die for me: life-blood falls too heavily":
Toll slowly.
"And if I die here apart, o'er my dead and silent heart
They shall pass out safe and free.
 

XLVIII

 
"When the foe hath heard it said – 'Death holds Guy of Linteged'" —
Toll slowly.
"That new corse new peace shall bring, and a blessèd, blessèd thing
Shall the stone be at its head.
 

XLIX

 
"Then my friends shall pass out free, and shall bear my memory" —
Toll slowly.
"Then my foes shall sleek their pride, soothing fair my widowed bride
Whose sole sin was love of me:
 

L

 
"With their words all smooth and sweet, they will front her and entreat" —
Toll slowly.
"And their purple pall will spread underneath her fainting head
While her tears drop over it.
 

LI

 
"She will weep her woman's tears, she will pray her woman's prayers" —
Toll slowly.
"But her heart is young in pain, and her hopes will spring again
By the suntime of her years.
 

LII

 
"Ah, sweet May! ah, sweetest grief! – once I vowed thee my belief" —
Toll slowly—
"That thy name expressed thy sweetness, – May of poets, in completeness!
Now my May-day seemeth brief."
 

LIII

 
All these silent thoughts did swim o'er his eyes grown strange and dim —
Toll slowly.
Till his true men, in the place, wished they stood there face to face
With the foe instead of him.
 

LIV

 
"One last oath, my friends that wear faithful hearts to do and dare!"
Toll slowly.
"Tower must fall and bride be lost – swear me service worth the cost!"
Bold they stood around to swear.
 

LV

 
"Each man clasp my hand and swear by the deed we failed in there" —
Toll slowly.
"Not for vengeance, not for right, will ye strike one blow to-night!"
Pale they stood around to swear.
 

LVI

 
"One last boon, young Ralph and Clare! faithful hearts to do and dare!"
Toll slowly.
"Bring that steed up from his stall, which she kissed before you all.
Guide him up the turret-stair.
 

LVII

 
"Ye shall harness him aright, and lead upward to this height:"
Toll slowly.
"Once in love and twice in war hath he borne me strong and far:
He shall bear me far to-night."
 

LVIII

 
Then his men looked to and fro, when they heard him speaking so —
Toll slowly.
"'Las! the noble heart," they thought, "he in sooth is grief-distraught:
Would we stood here with the foe!"
 

LIX

 
But a fire flashed from his eye, 'twixt their thought and their reply —
Toll slowly.
"Have ye so much time to waste? We who ride here, must ride fast
As we wish our foes to fly."
 

LX

 
They have fetched the steed with care, in the harness he did wear —
Toll slowly.
Past the court and through the doors, across the rushes of the floors,
But they goad him up the stair.
 

LXI

 
Then from out her bower chambère did the Duchess May repair:
Toll slowly.
"Tell me now what is your need," said the lady, "of this steed,
That ye goad him up the stair?"
 

LXII

 
Calm she stood; unbodkined through, fell her dark hair to her shoe:
Toll slowly.
And the smile upon her face, ere she left the tiring-glass,
Had not time enough to go.
 

LXIII

 
"Get thee back, sweet Duchess May! hope is gone like yesterday":
Toll slowly.
One half-hour completes the breach; and thy lord grows wild of speech —
Get thee in, sweet lady, and pray!
 

LXIV

 
"In the east tower, high'st of all, loud he cries for steed from stall":
Toll slowly.
"'He would ride as far,' quoth he, 'as for love and victory,
Though he rides the castle-wall.'
 

LXV

 
"And we fetch the steed from stall, up where never a hoof did fall" —
Toll slowly.
"Wifely prayer meets deathly need: may the sweet Heavens hear thee plead
If he rides the castle-wall!"
 

LXVI

 
Low she dropt her head, and lower, till her hair coiled on the floor —
Toll slowly.
And tear after tear you heard fall distinct as any word
Which you might be listening for.
 

LXVII

 
"Get thee in, thou soft ladye! here is never a place for thee!"
Toll slowly.
"Braid thine hair and clasp thy gown, that thy beauty in its moan
May find grace with Leigh of Leigh."
 

LXVIII

 
She stood up in bitter case, with a pale yet steady face:
Toll slowly.
Like a statue thunderstruck, which, though quivering, seems to look
Right against the thunder-place.
 

LXIX

 
And her foot trod in, with pride, her own tears i' the stone beside —
Toll slowly.
"Go to, faithful friends, go to! judge no more what ladies do,
No, nor how their lords may ride!"
 

LXX

 
Then the good steed's rein she took, and his neck did kiss and stroke:
Toll slowly.
Soft he neighed to answer her, and then followed up the stair
For the love of her sweet look:
 

LXXI

 
Oh, and steeply, steeply wound up the narrow stair around —
Toll slowly.
Oh, and closely, closely speeding, step by step beside her treading
Did he follow, meek as hound.
 

LXXII

 
On the east tower, high'st of all, – there, where never a hoof did fall —
Toll slowly.
Out they swept, a vision steady, noble steed and lovely lady,
Calm as if in bower or stall.
 

LXXIII

 
Down she knelt at her lord's knee, and she looked up silently —
Toll slowly.
And he kissed her twice and thrice, for that look within her eyes
Which he could not bear to see.
 

LXXIV

 
Quoth he, "Get thee from this strife, and the sweet saints bless thy life!"
Toll slowly.
"In this hour I stand in need of my noble red-roan steed,
But no more of my noble wife."
 

LXXV

 
Quoth she, "Meekly have I done all thy biddings under sun":
Toll slowly.
"But by all my womanhood, which is proved so, true and good,
I will never do this one.
 

LXXVI

 
"Now by womanhood's degree and by wifehood's verity" —
Toll slowly.
"In this hour if thou hast need of thy noble red-roan steed,
Thou hast also need of me.
 

LXXVII

 
"By this golden ring ye see on this lifted hand pardiè" —
Toll slowly.
"If, this hour, on castle-wall can be room for steed from stall,
Shall be also room for me.
 

LXXVIII

 
"So the sweet saints with me be," (did she utter solemnly) —
Toll slowly.
"If a man, this eventide, on this castle wall will ride,
He shall ride the same with me."
 

LXXIX

 
Oh, he sprang up in the selle and he laughed out bitter-well —
Toll slowly.
"Wouldst thou ride among the leaves, as we used on other eves,
To hear chime a vesper-bell?"
 

LXXX

 
She clung closer to his knee – "Ay, beneath the cypress-tree!"
Toll slowly.
"Mock me not, for otherwhere than along the greenwood fair
Have I ridden fast with thee.
 

LXXXI

 
"Fast I rode with new-made vows from my angry kinsman's house":
Toll slowly.
"What, and would you men should reck that I dared more for love's sake
As a bride than as a spouse?
 

LXXXII

 
"What, and would you it should fall, as a proverb, before all" —
Toll slowly.
"That a bride may keep your side while through castle-gate you ride,
Yet eschew the castle-wall?"
 

LXXXIII

 
Ho! the breach yawns into ruin and roars up against her suing —
Toll slowly.
With the inarticulate din and the dreadful falling in —
Shrieks of doing and undoing!
 

LXXXIV

 
Twice he wrung her hands in twain, but the small hands closed again.
Toll slowly.
Back he reined the steed – back, back! but she trailed along his track
With a frantic clasp and strain.
 

LXXXV

 
Evermore the foemen pour through the crash of window and door —
Toll slowly.
And the shouts of Leigh and Leigh, and the shrieks of "kill!" and "flee!"
Strike up clear amid the roar.
 

LXXXVI

 
Thrice he wrung her hands in twain, but they closed and clung again —
Toll slowly.
While she clung, as one, withstood, clasps a Christ upon the rood,
In a spasm of deathly pain.
 

LXXXVII

 
She clung wild and she clung mute with her shuddering lips half-shut.
Toll slowly.
Her head fallen as half in swound, hair and knee swept on the ground,
She clung wild to stirrup and foot.
 

LXXXVIII

 
Back he reined his steed back-thrown on the slippery coping-stone:
Toll slowly.
Back the iron hoofs did grind on the battlement behind
Whence a hundred feet went down:
 

LXXXIX

 
And his heel did press and goad on the quivering flank bestrode —
Toll slowly.
"Friends and brothers, save my wife! Pardon, sweet, in change for life, —
But I ride alone to God."
 

XC

 
Straight as if the Holy name had upbreathed her like a flame —
Toll slowly.
She upsprang, she rose upright, in his selle she sate in sight,
By her love she overcame.
 

XCI

 
And her head was on his breast where she smiled as one at rest —
Toll slowly.
"Ring," she cried, "O vesper-bell in the beechwood's old chapelle —
But the passing-bell rings best!"
 

XCII

 
They have caught out at the rein which Sir Guy threw loose – in vain —
Toll slowly.
For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air,
On the last verge rears amain.
 

XCIII

 
Now he hangs, he rocks between, and his nostrils curdle in —
Toll slowly.
Now he shivers head and hoof and the flakes of foam fall off,
And his face grows fierce and thin:
 

XCIV

 
And a look of human woe from his staring eyes did go:
Toll slowly.
And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony
Of the headlong death below, —
 

XCV

 
And, "Ring, ring, thou passing-bell," still she cried, "i' the old chapelle!"
Toll slowly.
Then, back-toppling, crashing back – a dead weight flung out to wrack,
Horse and riders overfell.
 
 
Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west —
Toll slowly.
And I read this ancient Rhyme, in the churchyard, while the chime
Slowly tolled for one at rest.
 

II

 
The abeles moved in the sun, and the river smooth did run —
Toll slowly.
And the ancient Rhyme rang strange, with its passion and its change,
Here, where all done lay undone.
 

III

 
And beneath a willow tree I a little grave did see —
Toll slowly—
Where was graved – Here, undefiled, lieth Maud, a three-year child,
Eighteen hundred forty-three.
 

IV

 
Then O spirits, did I say, ye who rode so fast that day —
Toll slowly.
Did star-wheels and angel wings with their holy winnowings
Keep beside you all the way?
 

V

 
Though in passion ye would dash, with a blind and heavy crash —
Toll slowly—
Up against the thick-bossed shield of God's judgment in the field, —
Though your heart and brain were rash, —
 

VI

 
Now, your will is all unwilled; now, your pulses are all stilled:
Toll slowly.
Now, ye lie as meek and mild (whereso laid) as Maud the child
Whose small grave was lately filled.
 

VII

 
Beating heart and burning brow, ye are very patient now —
Toll slowly.
And the children might be bold to pluck the kingcups from your mould
Ere a month had let them grow.
 

VIII

 
And you let the goldfinch sing in the alder near in spring —
Toll slowly.
Let her build her nest and sit all the three weeks out on it,
Murmuring not at anything.
 

IX

 
In your patience ye are strong, cold and heat ye take not wrong —
Toll slowly.
When the trumpet of the angel blows eternity's evangel,
Time will seem to you not long.
 

X

 
Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west —
Toll slowly.
And I said in underbreath, – All our life is mixed with death,
And who knoweth which is best?
 

XI

 
Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west —
Toll slowly.
And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness, —
Round our restlessness, His rest.