That sometimes from the savage Den, T And sometimes from the darksome Shade, And sometimes starting up at once There came, and look'd him in the face, An Angel beautiful and bright; And that he knew, it was a Fiend, This miserable Knight! And how, unknowing what he did, He leapt amid a murd'rous Band, And sav'd from Outrage worse than Death The Lady of the Land; And how she wept and clasp'd his knees, And how she tended him in vain And ever strove to expiate The Scorn, that craz'd his Brain: And that she nurs'd him in a Cave; And how his Madness went away When on the yellow forest leaves His dying words-but when I reach'd All Impulses of Soul and Sense The Music, and the doleful Tale, And Hopes, and Fears that kindle Hope, An undistinguishable Throng! And gentle Wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherish'd long! She wept with pity and delight, She blush'd with love and maiden shame; And, like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. Her bosom heav'd-she stepp'd aside; She half inclosed me with her arms, "Twas partly Love, and partly Fear, And partly 'twas a bashful Art That I might rather feel than see The Swelling of her Heart. I calm'd her fears; and she was calm, And told her love with virgin Pride. My bright and beauteous Bride! The MAD MOTHER. Her eyes are wild, her head is bare, The sun has burnt her coal-black hair, Her eye-brows have a rusty stain, And she came far from over the main. She has a baby on her arm, Or else she were alone; And underneath the hay-stack warm, And on the green-wood stone, She talked and sung the woods among ; And it was in the English tongue. |