Before that Child of Pleasure rose

The lonely rock - the lonelier one, A haunting spectre till he knows The human wish is won!

X.

Low-murmuring round the turret's base
Wave glides on wave its gentle chase;
Lone on the rock, the warder hears
The oar's faint music - hark! it nears-
It gains the rock; the rower's hand
Aids a gray, time-worn form to land.
"Behold the comrade sent to thee!"

He said- then went. And in that place The Twain were left; and Misery

And Guilt stood face to face!

XI.

Yes, face to face once more arrayed,

Stood the Betrayer — the Betrayed !

Oh, how through all those gloomy years, When Guilt revolves what Conscience fears, Had that wronged victim breathed the vow And now,

That, if but face to face

There face to face with him he stood,

By the great sea, on that wild steep; Around, the voiceless Solitude,

Below, the funeral Deep!

XII.

They gazed the Injurer's face grew pale Pale writhe the lips, the murmurs fail,

And thrice he strives to speak—in vain! -
The sun looks blood-red on the main,
The boat glides, waning less and less -
No Law lives in the wilderness,

Except Revenge-man's first and last!

Those wrongs — that wretch — could they for-
give?

All that could sweeten life was past,
Yet, O how sweet to live!

XIII.

He gazed before, he glanced behind,
There, o'er the steep rock seems to wind
The devious, scarce-seen path, a snake
In slime and sloth might, laboring, make;
With a wild cry he springs; - he crawls;
Crag upon crag he clears; — and falls

Breathless and mute; and o'er him stands,
Pale as himself, the chasing foe

Mercy! what mean those claspèd hands,
Those lips that tremble so?

XIV.

"Thou hast cursed my life, my wealth despoiled;

My hearth is cold, my name is soiled;
The wreck of what was Man, I stand
'Mid the lone sea and desert land!
Well, I forgive thee all; but be

A human voice and face to me!

O stay O stay and let me yet

One thing that speaks man's language know!

The waste hath taught me to forget
That earth once held a foc!"

XV.

O Heaven! methinks, from thy soft skies,
Looked tearful down the angel-eyes;
Back to those walls to mark them go,
Hand clasped in hand-the Foe and Foe!
And when the sun sunk slowly there,
Low knelt the prayerless man in prayer.
He knelt, no more the lonely one;
Within, secure, a comrade sleeps;
That sun shall not go down upon
A desert in the deeps.

He knelt

XVI.

the man who half till then

Forgot his God in loathing men,

He knelt, and prayed that God to spare
The Foe to grow the Brother there;
And, reconciled by Love to Heaven,
Forgiving

was he not forgiven?

"Yes, man for man thou didst create;

Man's wrongs, man's blessings can atone! To learn how Love can spring from Hate Go, Hate, and live alone."

THE LAY OF THE MINSTREL'S HEART. 291

THE LAY OF THE MINSTREL'S HEART.

It was the time when Spring on Earth

Gives Eden to the young;

On Provence shone the Vesper star;
Beneath fair Marguerite's lattice-bar
The Minstrel, Aymer, sung:-

“The year may take a second birth,
But May is swift of wing;

The Heart whose sunshine lives in thee

One May from

year to year

shall see;

Thy love, eternal Spring!"

The Ladye-blushed, the Ladye sighed,
All Heaven was in that Hour!

The Heart he pledged was leal and brave
And what the pledge the Ladye gave? —

And when shall Aymer claim his Bride?
It is the hour to part!

He goes to guard the Savour's grave;
Her pledge, a flower, the Maiden gave,
And his-the Minstrel's heart.

Behold, a Cross, a Grave, a Foe!
What else Man's Holy Land?

High deeds, that level Rank to Fame,

292 THE LAY OF THE MINSTREL'S HEART.

Have bought young Aymer's right to claim
The high-born Maiden's hand.

High deeds should ask no meed below -
Their meed is in the sky.

The poison-dart, in Victory's hour,

Has pierced the Heart where lies the flower,
And hers its latest sigh!

It is the time when Spring on Earth
Gives Eden to the young,

And harp and hymn proclaim the Bride,
Who smiles, Count Raimond, by thy side,
The Maid whom Aymer sung!

And, darkly through the wassail mirth,
A pale procession see!

Turn, Marguerite, from the bridegroom turn-
Thine Aymer's heart the funeral urn,
His pledge, comes back to thee!

Lo, on the Urn how withered lies

Thy gift the scentless flower!
Amid those garlands, fresh and fair,
That prank the hall and glad the air,
What does that withered flower?

One tear bedewed the Ladye's eyes,
No tears beseem the day.

The dead can ne'er to life return,

"A marble tomb shall grace the Urn,"

She said and turned away.