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But, quoth the Traveller, wherefore did he
leave A flock that knew his saintly worth go well? Why, said the Landlord, Sir, it so befell He heard unluckily of our intent To do him a great honour; and, you know, He was not covetous of fame below, And so by stealth one night away he went
What might this honour be? the Traveller cried.
Why, Sir, the Host replied, Wc thought perhaps that he might one day
leave us; And then-should strangers have
The good man's grave, A loss like that would naturally grieve us, For he'll be made a Saint of to be sure. Therefore we thought it prudent to secure
His relics while we might; And so we meant to strangle him one night.
Nay, Edith! spare the Rose;—perhaps it
lives, And feels the noon-tide sun, and drinks
rcfresh'd The dews of night; let not thy gentle hand Tear its life-strings asunder, and destroy The sense of being .'—Why that infidel smile? Come, I will bribe thee to be merciful; And thou shalt have a tale of other days, For I am skill'd in legendary lore, So thou wilt let it live. There was a time Ere this, the freshest, sweetest flower that
blooms, Bcdeck'd the bowers of earth. Thou hast
not heard How first by miracle its fragrant leaves Spread to the sun their blushing loveliness.
There dwelt at Bethlehem a Jewish maid, And Zillah was her name, so passing fair That all Judea spake the virgin's praise. He who had seen her eyes' dark radiance How it revcal'd her soul, and what a soul Bcam'd in the mild effulgence, woe was he, For not in solitude, for not in crowds, Might he escape remembrance, nor avoid Her imaged form which followed every
where, And fill'd the heart, and fix'd the absent eye. Woo was he, for her bosom own'd no love Save the strong ardours of religious zeal, For Zillah on her God had ccntcr'd all Her spirit's deep afl'ections. So for her Her tribes-men sigh'd in vain, yet reverenced The obdurate virtue that destroy'd their
hopes. One man there was, u vain and wretched man,
Who saw, desired, dcspalr'd, andlaWt His sensual eye had gloated on her An Even till the flush of angry modest; Gave it new charms, and made hrart
the more. She loath'd the man, for HamueTt en i
bold, And the strong workings of brute Rimi Had moulded his broad features; isf >
fcar'd The bitterness of wounded vanity That with a fiendish hue would dinar His faint and lying smile. Nor Tain itVFor Hamucl vow'd revenge, and UH i t Against her virgin fame. He spread in Whispers that travel fast, and illrtp^ Which soon obtain belief; howZilbti' When in the temple heaven-ward i. •
raised. Did swim with rapturous zeal; bit u
were tho« Who had beheld the enthusiast > ».:
glance With other feelings fill'd ;—that 'twu»»" Of easy sort to play the saint by di; Before the public eye, but that all era Were closed at night;—that ZilUiT'
was foul. Yea forfeit to the law. Shame—ihamt t» a That he should trust so easily the Me: Which stabs another's fame! The ill* Was heard, repeated, and belie>ei~"
soon, For Hamucl by his damned artifice Produced such semblances of guilt,ll»JWas judged to shameful death. Wii"
the wallThere was a barren field; a place alt For it was there where wretched rrc.Received their death; and there th.;
the stake. And piled the fuel round, which >
consume The injured Maid, ahandon'd, ai it -" By God and man. The assembled BnK~ Beheld the scene, and when they 8'
Maid Bound to the stake, with what calm k"5"5 She lifted up her patient looks to Her They doubted of her guilt. Wilb'
thought! Stood Hamuel near the pile; him nnr Led thitherward, but now within b:< • Unwonted feelings stirr'd. and the G«J Of wakening guilt, anticipating H'] The eye of Zillah as it glanced art>r; Fell on the murderer once, and mt^ A moment; like a dagger did it p-;'"' And struck into his soul n currlco '• Conscience! thou God within as! *■
hour Of triumph dost thou spare the .-■
wrctrli. Not in the hour or infamy and dr*t! Forsake the virtuous! They tlra* «■»'
id lo! the torch!—hold, hold your erring
hands! ■i quench the rising flames !—they rise!
they spread! ley reach the suffering Maid! oh God
protect ic innocent one! They rose, they spread,
they raged;— ic breath of God went forth; the ascending fire neath its influence Lent, and all its flames one long lightning-flash concentrating, irted and Masted Harauel,—him alone, irk!—what a fearful scream the multitude mr forth!—and yet more miracles! the
stake ids out, and spreads its light green leaves,
and howers ic innocent Maid, and Roses bloom around, >w first beheld since Paradise was lost, d fill with Eden odours all the air.
THE LOVERS ROCK.
Ik Maiden through the favouring night
• ■in Granada took her flight,
e bade her father's house farewell, d fled away with Manuel.
> Moorish maid might hope to vie itli Laila's cheek or Laila's eye, ,
i maiden loved with purer truth,
fear they fled across the plain,
A now they reach the mountain's height,
t while she slept, the passing gale
ung Manuel started from his sleep,
ey saw him raise his angry hand,
en Manuel's heart grew wild with woe, looscn'd stones and roll'd below, Joosen'd crags, for Manuel strove
• life, and liberty, and love
The ascent was steep, the rock was high,
The Moorish chief unmoved could see
He bade the archers bend the bow,
The archers aim'd their arrows there,
He clasp'd her close and cried farewell,
And side by side they there arc laid,
Yet every Murcian maid can tell
In an evil day and an hour of woe
Did Garci Fcrrandez wed!
He wedded the Lady Argentine,
He loved the Lady Argentine,
The Lady Argentine hath fled;
In an evil day and an hour of woe
She hath left the husband who loved her so,
To go to Count Aymcrique's bed.
Garci Ferrandez was brave and young,
In An evil day and an hour of woe
To Garci's Hall did Count Aymcrique go;
In an evil day and a luckless night
should wed, But he brings home a Leman for his own bed. So thoughts of good and thoughts of ill Were working thus in Abba's will; And Argentine with evil intent Ever to work her woe was bent; That still she sate in her tower alone, And in that melancholy gloom, When for her mother she made her moan, She wish'd her father too in the tomb.
She watches the pilgrims and poor who wait
For daily food at her father's gate.
I would some knight were there, thought she,
Disguised in pilgrim-weeds for me!
For Aymerique's blessing I would not stay,
Nor he nor his Leman should say me nay,
But I with him would wend away.
She watches her handmaid the pittance deal,
They took their dole and went away;
But yonder is one who lingers still
As though he had something in his will,
Some secret which he fain would say;
And close to the portal she gees him go,
He talks with her handmaid in accents low;
Oh then she thought that time went slow,
And long were the minutes that she must wait
Till her handmaid came from the castle-gate.
From the castlc-gatc her handmaid came,
He told his name to the damsel fair,
And I will take yon for my bride.
'Tis the hour of noon,
The bell of the convent hath done.
And the Sexta are begun;
The Count and his Leman arc gone t»
They look to their pages, and lo! tM Where Abba, a stranger so long Id* The ewer, and bason, and napkin lw; She came and knelt on her bended is*, And first to her father ministred shr; | Count Aymerique look'd on hii itm
down. He look'd on her then without a frtn
And next to the Lady Argentine
Abba no angry word replied.
The wine hath warm'd Count Ay**"**]
A boon! Count Aymerique. quOl''""''L
n Aymeriquc's arms the Lcman lay, riirir talk was of the distant day, low they from Garni fled away 11 the silent hour of night; Vihi then amid their wanton play I'liry mock'd the beautiful Knight. 'iir. far away his castle lay, The weary road of many a day; Ind travel long, they said, to him, t scem'd, was small delight, Ind he belike was loth witb blood To stain his hands so white.
I'liry little thought that Garci then
leard every scornful word!
They little thought the avenging hand
iVas on the avenging sword!
''earless, unpenitent, unblest,
rV ithout a prayer they sunk to rest,
I'lie adulterer on the Leman's breast.
Then Abba, listening still in fear,
To hear the breathing long and slow,
It length the appointed signal gave,
lnd Garci rose and struck the blow.
)ne blow sufficed for Ayraerique,—
le made no moan, he utter'd no groan;
lut his death-start waken'd Argentine,
lnd by the chamber-lamp she saw
The bloody falchion shine!
the raised for help her in-drawn breath,
lut her shriek of fear was her shriek of
death, n an evil day and an hour of woe )id Garci Fcrrandez wed! )ne wicked wife has he sent to her grave, ic hath taken a worse to his bed.
Giikkn grew the aider-trees, and close To the water-side by St. Joam da Foz. From the castle of Gaya the warden sees The water and the alder-trees; And only these the warden sees, No danger near doth Gaya fear, No danger nigh doth the warden spy; He sees not where the gallies lie Under the alders silently, ■"or the gallies with green are covcr'd o"er, They have crept by night along the shore, And they lie at anchor, now it is morn, Awaiting the sound of Ramiro's horn.
In traveller's weeds Ramiro sate
By the fountain at the castlc-gntc;
lut under the weeds was his breast-plate,
Lnd the sword he had tried in so ninny fights,
i nil the horn whose sound would ring around,
And he known so well by his knights.
From the gate Aldonza's damsel came
For worn by a long malady,
To lift it from the spring.
She gave her pitcher to the king,
And from his mouth he dropt a ring
Which he had with Aldonza broken;
So in the water from the spring
Queen Aldonza found the token.
With that she bade her damsel bring Secretly the stranger in. What brings thee hither, Ramiro? she, cried: The love of you, the king replied. Nay! nay! it is not so! quoth she, Ramiro, say not this to me! I know your Moorish concubine Hath now the love which once was mine.
If you had loved me as you say,
If you had never loved another,
The wife of Ortiga's brother!
In her alcove she bade him hide: King Alboazar, my lord, she cried, What wouldst thou do, if at this hour King Ramiro were in thy power? This I would do, the Moor replied, I would hew him limb from limb, As he, I know, would deal by me,
So I would deal by him. Alboazar! Queen Aldonza said, Lo! here I give him to thy will; In yon alcove thou hast thy foe, Now thy vengeance then fulfil!
With that upspake the Christian king:
O! Alboazar deal by me As I would surely deal with thee, If I were you, and you were me! Like a friend you guested me many n day,
Like a foe I stole your sister away; The sin was great, and I felt its weight,
All joy by day the thought opprcst. And all night long it troubled my rest; Till I could not bear the burthen of care, But told my confessor in despair. And he, my sinful soul to save This penance for atonement gave; That I before you should appear And yield myself your prisoner here, If my repentance was sincere, That I might by a public death Breathe shamefully out my latest breath.
King Alboazar, thin I would do, If you were I nnd I were you; I would give you a roasted capon first, And a skinful of wine to quench your thirst, And after that I would grant you the thing Which you came to me petitioning. Now this, oh King, is what I crave, That I my sinful soul may save: Let mc l>e led to your bull-ring. And call your sons and daughters all, And assemble the people both great and small, And let me be sot upon a stone. That by all the multitude I may be known, And bid mc then this horn to blow, And I will blow a blast so strong, And wind the horn so loud and long That the breath in my body at last shall be
gone, And I shall drop dead in sight of the throng. Thus your revenge, oh King, will be brave, Granting the boon which I come to crave. And the people a holy-day-sport will have,
And I my precious soul shall save; For this is the penance my confessor gave. King Alboazar, this I would do, If you were I, and I were you.
This man repents his sin, be sure!
To Queen Aldonza said the Moor, He hath stolen my sister away from me,
I have taken from him his wife; Shame then would it he when he comes to me,
And I his true repentance see,
0 Alboazar! then quoth she,
Look at those eyes beneath that brow,
1 know Kamiro better than thou!
How, to the throne that he might rise,
strife, And how many more he has carried away? How he came to Biiow friendship—and thou
didst believe him? How heravish'd thy sister, and wouldst thou
forgive him? And hast thou forgotten that I am his wife, And that now by thy side, I lie like a bride. The worst shame that can ever a Christian
betide? And cruel it were when you sec his despair, If vainly you thought in compassion to spare. And refused him the boon he comes hither
For no other way his poor sool can be vThen by doing the penance his confess* p»
As Queen Aldonza thus replies, The Moor upon her fixed hia eyes. And he said in his heart, unhappy »• Who pulteth his trust in a wonm' Thou art King Ramiro's wedded sift. And thus wouldst thou take away hiift What cause have I to confide in th«* I will put this woman away from m These were the thoughts that pa« ii ■ breast, But he call'd to mind Ramiro's augst' And he fear'd to meet him hereafter ii "ft And he granted the king's request
So he gave him a roasted capon fint. And a skinful of wine to quench his tiff And he call'd for his sons and daughter And assembled the people both gmu » small;
And to the bull-ring he led the kin-;
And he set him there upon n »t»ne. That by all the multitude he might be im* And he bade him blow through hit be"-'
blast, As long as his breath and his life shonW U*
Oh then his horn Rarairo would: The walls rebound the pealing soo»i That far nnd wide rings echoing roo«i Louder and louder Ramiro blows. And farther the blast and farther prTill it reaches the gallics, where they ■*'" Under the alders, by St. Joam da f« It roused his knights from their rep** And they and their merry men am* Away to Gaya they speed them strai?'1; Like a torrent they burst through ■••?
gate; And they rush among the Moorish tin* And slaughter their infidel foesThen his good sword Ramiro drr* Upon the Moorish king he flew. And he gave him one blow which cleft '*
They killed his sons and hisdaughl"'1"'
Every Moorish soul they sic*!
Not one escaped of the infidel rT,w'.
Neither old nor young, nor babe nor ■•*"
And they left not one atone upon «•»"'
They carried the wicked Queen »W And they took counsel what to do 1°'" They tied a mill-stone round her Bit* And overboard in the sea they threw'" She had water enow in the sea 11"' Rut glad would Queen Aldonia l>rOf one drop of water from that »»!• ** To cool her where she is now