"And all that day I read in school, And a mighty wind had swept the leaves, "Then down I cast me on my face, And first began to weep, For I knew my secret then was one That earth refused to keep, "So wills the fierce avenging sprite, "O God! that horrid, horrid dream Besets me now awake! Again, — again, with dizzy brain, The human life I take; And my red right band grows raging hot, "And still no peace for the restless clay Will wave or mould allow ; The horrid thing pursues my soul, It stands before me now!" That very night, while gentle Sleep LADY BARBARA. BY ALEXANDER SMITH. JARL GAWAIN wooed the Lady Barbara, 'Mong broad-branched beeches in the summer In soft green light his passion he has told. With calm and steady eyes, her heart was otherwhere. He sighed for her through all the summer weeks; Out with our falcons to the pleasant heath." Her father's blood leapt up unto her brows, He who, exulting on the trumpet's breath, Came charging like a star across the lists of death, Trembled, and passed before her high rebuke; And then she sat, her hands clasped round her knee; Like one far-thoughted was the lady's look, For in a morning cold as misery She saw a lone ship sailing on the sea; High on the poop a man sat mournfully : The wind was whistling thorough mast and shroud, And to the whistling wind thus did he sing aloud: "Didst look last night upon my native vales, Wander forever on the barren foam? O happy are ye, resting mariners! O Death, that thou wouldst come and take me home! A hand unseen this vessel onward steers, And onward I must float through slow moon-measured years. “Ye winds! when like a curse ye drove us on, Frothing the waters, and along our way, Nor cape, nor headland, through red mornings shone, One howled, Upon the deep we are astray.' As we went driving on through the cold starry night. VOL XIII. 5 G The sea foamed curses, and the reeling sky A shoal of fiends came on me from the deep, And dragged me forth, and round did dance and leap; They mouthed on me in dream, and tore me from sweet sleep. Strange constellations burned above my head, Strange birds around the vessel shrieked and flew, My own Sir Arthur, could I die with you! The wind blows shrill between my love and me.” Fond heart! the space between was but the apple-tree. There was a cry of joy; with seeking hands 1 With a wan smile, "Methinks I'm but half blest; I cannot see thee, love! so blind I am with tears." |