They took a drap o' boiling lead, They drapp'd it on her breast. "Alas! alas!" her father cried, "She's dead without the priest." She neither chattered with her teeth, Nor shivered with her chin. "Alas! alas!" her father cried, "There is nae breath within.” Then up arose her seven brethren, Then up and gat her seven sisters, The first Scots kirk that they cam' to, But when they cam' to Saint Mary's Kirk, And up and started Lord William, The chieftain amang them a'. "Set down, set down the bier," he said; "Let me look her upon : " But as soon as Lord William touched her hand, Her colour began to come. She brightened like the lily flower, Till her pale colour was gone; "A morsel of your bread, my lord, For I hae fasted these three lang days, “Gae hame, gae hame, my seven bauld brothers, I trow ye wad hae gi'en me the skaith, "Commend me to my gray father, UNKNOWN. XLIII JUAN AND HAIDÉE It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded With one star sparkling through it like an eye. And thus they wander'd forth, and hand in hand, Work'd by the storms, yet work'd as it were plann'd, They look'd up to the sky, whose floating glow Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight; Into each other—and, beholding this, Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss; A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love, Such kisses as belong to early days, Where heart, and soul, and sense, in concert move, By length I mean duration; theirs endured Heaven knows how long-no doubt they never reckon'd; And if they had, they could not have secured They had not spoken; but they felt allured, As if their souls and lips each other beckon❜d, Which, being join'd, like swarming bees they clungTheir hearts the flowers from which the honey sprung. They were alone, but not alone as they The twilight glow, which momently grew less, They fear'd no eyes nor ears on that lone beach, Was broken words, they thought a language there,— Of nature's oracle-first love,—that all Haidée spoke not of scruples, ask'd no vows, And flew to her young mate like a young bird; She loved, and was beloved--she adored, And she was worshipp'd; after nature's fashion, Their intense souls, into each other pour'd, If souls could die, had perish'd in that passion,— But by degrees their senses were restored, Again to be o'ercome, again to dash on ; And, beating 'gainst his bosom, Haidée's heart Felt as if never more to beat apart. GEORGE, LORD BYRON. XLIV LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI I O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing. II O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, And the harvest's done. III I see a lily on thy brow With anguish moist and fever dew, And on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too. IV I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful-a faery's child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild. |