I hated him with the hate of hell, But I loved his beauty passing well. O the Earl was fair to see! I rose up in the silent night : I curl'd and comb'd his comely head, ΤΟ WITH THE FOLLOWING POEM. I SEND you here a sort of allegory, That doat upon each other, friends to So that she thought, "And who shall | And one, the reapers at their sultry toil. In front they bound the sheaves. Behind Were realms of upland, prodigal in oil, And hoary to the wind. And one, a foreground black with stones and slags, Beyond, a line of heights, and higher All barr'd with long white cloud the scornful crags, And highest, snow and fire. And one, an English home-gray twilight pour'd On dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleep-all things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace. Nor these alone, but every landscape fair, Not less than truth design'd. Or the maid-mother by a crucifix, In tracts of pasture sunny-warm, Beneath branch-work of costly sardonyx Sat smiling, babe in arm. Or in a clear-wall'd city on the sea, Near gilded organ-pipes, her hair Wound with white roses, slept St. Cecily; An angel look'd at her. Or thronging all one porch of Paradise Or mythic Uther's deeply-wounded son And watch'd by weeping queens. Or hollowing one hand against his ear, Of wisdom and of law. To mimic heaven; and clapt her hands | Wrote "Mene, mene," and divided quite and cried, The kingdom of her thought. "I marvel if my still delight In this great house so royal-rich, and wide, Deep dread and loathing of her solitude Be flatter'd to the height. Fell on her, from which mood was born Scorn of herself; again, from out that mood Laughter at her self-scorn. "What! isnot this my place of strength," she said, "My spacious mansion built for me, Whereof the strong foundation-stones were laid Since my first memory?" But in dark corners of her palace stood And horrible nightmares, And hollow shades enclosing hearts of flame, And, with dim fretted foreheads all, On corpses three-months-old at noon she came, That stood against the wall. A spot of dull stagnation, without light A still salt pool, lock'd in with bars of sand; Left on the shore; that hears all night The plunging seas draw backward from the land Their moon-led waters white. A star that with the choral starry dance Join'd not, but stood, and standing saw The hollow orb of moving Circumstance Roll'd round by one fix'd law. Back on herself her serpent pride had And death and life she hated equally, No comfort anywhere; Remaining utterly confused with fears, And all alone in crime: Shut upas in a crumbling tomb, girt round As in strange lands a traveller walking In doubt and great perplexity, And knows not if it be thunder or a sound A new land, but I die." So when four years were wholly finished, "Where I may mourn and pray. So lightly, beautifully built : Perchance I may return with others there When I have purged my guilt.” LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE. LADY Clara Vere de Vere, Of me you shall not win renown: You thought to break a country heart For pastime, ere you went to town. At me you smiled, but unbeguiled I saw the snare, and I retired: The daughter of a hundred Earls, You are not one to be desired. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, I know you proud to bear your name, Your pride is yet no mate for mine, Too proud to care from whence I came. Nor would I break for your sweet sake A heart that doats on truer charms. Since I beheld young Laurence dead. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, When thus he met his mother's view, Indeed I heard one bitter word That scarce is fit for you to hear; Lady Clara Vere de Vere, There stands a spectre in your hall : The guilt of blood is at your door : You changed a wholesome heart to gall. You held your course without remorse, To make him trust his modest worth, And, last, you fix'd a vacant stare, And slew him with your noble birth. Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere, From yon blue heavens above us bent The gardener Adam and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent. Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good. I know you, Clara Vere de Vere, these. |