« 前へ次へ »
With tear-drop glittering to a smile,
Mimics the hunter's shout. “Hip! Florian, hip! To horse, to horse!
Go, bring the palfrey out.
My Julian's out with all his clan,
And, bonny boy, you wis, Lord Julian is a hasty man,
Who comes late, comes amiss.”
Now Florian was a stripling squire,
A gallant boy of Spain,
But blush'd to hold her train.
The huntress is in her dress of
green,And forth they go; she with her bow,
Her buskins and her quiver !-
He makes his javelin quiver.
And had not Ellen stay'd the race,
The whole great globe of light
They had o'erta'en the knight.
It chanced that up the covert lane,
Where Julian waiting stood,
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,
But pretext none could find or frame !
Yet Love wants courage without a name !
Straight from the forest's skirt the trees
O'er-branching, made an aisle,
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,
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,
Nay, let the hunt proceed !-
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 seem'd,
In an unwelcome hour;
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 you will,
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,
The fair dame's eyes engage;
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 ;
As answering to a voice,
“ 'Tis this mad filly's choice.”
With sudden bound, beyond the boy,
That regal front! those cheeks aglow !
Thou lovely child of old Du Clos !
Dark as a dream Lord Julian stood,
Sprang on the plighted Maid !
Lies bleeding on the glade.
THE KNIGHT'S TOMB.
WHERE is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
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 !