Alone of all the starry host,
As if in prideful scorn
Of flight and fear he stay'd behind,
To brave th' advancing morn.
O! Alice could read passing well,
And she was conning then
Dan Ovid's mazy tale of loves,
And gods, and beasts, and men.
The vassal's speech, his taunting vein,
It thrill'd like venom thro' her brain;
Yet never from the book
. She rais'd her head, nor did she deign
The knight a single look.
"Off, traitor friend! how dar'st thou fix Thy wanton gaze on me?
And why, against my earnest suit,
and with a baleful smile
The vassal knight reel'd off-
Like a huge billow from a bark
Toil'd in the deep sea-trough,
That shouldering sideways in mid plunge,
Is travers'd by a flash.
And staggering onward, leaves the ear
With dull and distant crash.
And Alice sate with troubled mien
A moment; for the scoff was keen,
And thro' her veins did shiver!
Then rose and donned her dress of green,
Her buskins and her quiver.
There stands the flow'ring may-thorn tree!
From thro' the veiling mist you see
The black and shadowy stem;-
Smit by the sun the mist in glee
Dissolves to lightsome jewelry-
Each blossom hath its gem!
And had not Ellen stay'd the race,
And stopp'd to see a moment's space,
The whole great globe of light
Give the last parting kiss-like touch
To the eastern ridge, it lack'd not much,
They had o'erta'en the knight.
It chanced that up the covert lane,
Where Julian waiting stood,
M*
A neighbor knight pricked on to join
The huntsmen in the wood.
And with him must Lord Julian go,
Tho' with an anger'd mind:
Betroth'd not wedded to his bride,
In vain he sought, 'twixt shame and pride,
Excuse to stay behind.
He bit his lip, he wrung his glove,
He look'd around, he look'd above,
But pretext none could find or frame!
Alas! alas and well-a-day!
It grieves me sore to think, to say,
That names so seldom meet with Love,
Yet Love wants courage without a name!
Straight from the forest's skirt the trees
O'er-branching, made an aisle,
Where hermit old might pace and chant
As in a minster's pile.
From underneath its leafy screen,
And from the twilight shade,
You pass at once into a green,
A green and lightsome glade.
And there Lord Julian sate on steed;
Behind him, in a round,
Stood knight and squire, and menial train ;
Against the leash the greyhounds strain;
The horses paw'd the ground.
When up the alley green, Sir Hugh
Spurr'd in upon the sward,
And mute, without a word, did he
Fall in behind his lord.
Lord Julian turn'd his steed half round.-
"What! doth not Alice deign
To accept your loving convoy, knight?
Or doth she fear our woodland sleight,
And joins us on the plain ?"
With stifled tones the knight replied,
And look'd askance on either side,-
"Nay, let the hunt proceed!-
The Lady's message that I bear,
I guess would scantly please your ear,
And less deserves your heed.
"You sent betimes. Not yet unbarr'd
I found the middle door ;—
Two stirrers only met my eyes,
Fair Alice, and one more.
"I came unlook'd for: and, it seemed,
In an unwelcome hour;
And found the daughter of Du Clos
Within the lattic'd bower.
“But hush! the rest may wait. If lost,
No great loss, I divine;
And idle words will better suit
A fair maid's lips than mine."
"God's wrath! speak out, man," Julian cried;
O'ermaster'd by the sudden smart ;—
And feigning wrath, sharp, blunt, and rude,
The knight his subtle shift pursued.
"Scowl not at me; command my skill,
To lure your hawk back, if
But not a woman's heart.
"Go! (said she) tell him,-slow is sure;
Fair speed his shafts to-day!
I follow here a stronger lure,
And chase a gentler prey."
"The game, pardie, was full in sight, That then did, if I saw aright,
The fair dame's eyes engage;
For turning, as I took my ways,
I saw them fix'd with steadfast gazo
Full on her wanton page."
The last word of the traitor knight
It had but entered Julian's ear,—
From two o'erarching oaks between,
With glist'ning helm-like cap is seen,
Borne on in giddy cheer,
A youth, that ill his steed can guide ;
Yet with reverted face doth ride,
As answering to a voice,
That seems at once to laugh and chide-
"Not mine, dear mistress," still he cried,
"'Tis this mad filly's choice."
With sudden bound, beyond the boy,
See! see that face of hope and joy,
That regal front! those cheeks aglow!
Thou needed'st but the crescent sheen,
A quiver'd Dian to have been,
Thou lovely child of old Du Clos!
Dark as a dream Lord Julian stood,
Swift as a dream, from forth the wood,
Sprang on the plighted Maid!
With fatal aim, and frantic force,
The shaft was hurl'd!—a lifeless corse,
Fair Alice from her vaulting horse,
Lies bleeding on the glade.
WHERE is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be ?—
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,
Under the twigs of a young birch-tree!
The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year,
And whistled and roared in the winter alone,
Is gone, and the birch in its stead is grown.-
The Knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;—
His soul is with the saints, I trust.
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