In many ways doth the full heart reveal The absence of the love, which yet it fain would show. ALICE DU CLOS: "One word with two meanings is the traitor's shield and shaft and a slit tongue be his blazon!" "THE Sun is not yet risen, Caucasian Proverb. But the dawn lies red on the dew: Lord Julian has stolen from the hunters away, Is seeking, Lady, for you. Put on your dress of green, Your buskins and your quiver; Lord Julian is a hasty man, To wed you on a day, Your lord and master for to be, O Lady! throw your book aside! I would not that my lord should chide." Thus spake Sir Hugh the vassal knight To Alice, child of old Du Clos, As spotless fair, as airy light As that moon-shiny doe, The gold star on its brow, her sire's ancestral crest! She in the garden bower below The lattice of her bower- Of flight and fear he stayed behind, O! Alice could read passing well, Dan Ovid's mazy tale of loves, And gods, and beasts, and men. The vassal's speech, his taunting vein, She raised her head, nor did she deign "Off, traitor friend! how dar'st thou fix Thy wanton gaze on me? "Go, tell thy Lord, that slow is sure: I follow here a stronger lure, She said and with a baleful smile The vassal knight reeled off— Like a huge billow from a bark Toiled in the deep sea-trough, That shouldering sideways in mid plunge, And staggering onward, leaves the ear And Alice sate with troubled mien There stands the flow'ring may-thorn tree! Each blossom hath its gem! With tear-drop glittering to a smile, "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, That tossed his head in joy and pride, But blushed to hold her train, The huntress is in her dress of green,— The squire no younger e'er was seen- And had not Ellen stay'd the race, It chanced that up the covert lane, A neighbour knight prick'd on to join And with him must Lord Julian go, Betrothed 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, It grieves me sore to think, to say, Yet Love wants courage without a name! Straight from the forest's skirt the trees 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; Stood knight and squire, and menial train; When up the alley green, Sir Hugh And mute, without a word, did he |