"Friends and brothers, save my wife! Pardon, Sweet, in change for life, But I ride alone to God." Straight as if the holy name had upbreathed her like a She upsprang, she rose upright, in his selle she sat in sight, By her love she overcame. And her head was on his breast where she smiled as one Ring," she cried, "O vesper-bell in the beechwood's old chapelle But the passing-bell rings best!" They have caught out at the rein which Sir Guy threw loose-in vain, Toll slowly. For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air, On the last verge rears amain. Now he hangs, he rocks between, and his nostrils curdle in, Toll slowly. Now he shivers head and hoof, and the flakes of foam fall off, And his face grows fierce and thin: And a look of human woe from his staring eyes did go, Toll slowly. And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony Of the headlong death below, E And, "Ring, ring, thou passing bell," still she cried, "i' the old chapelle ! " Toll slowly. Then back-toppling, crashing back-a dead weight flung out to wrack, Horse and riders overfell. Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang And I read this ancient Rhyme, in the churchyard, while the chime Slowly tolled for one at rest. The abeles moved in the sun, and the river smooth did And the ancient Rhyme rang strange, with its passion and its change, Here, where all done lay undone. And beneath a willow tree I a little grave did see, Toll slowly. Where was graved,—HERE, UNDEFILED, LIETH MAUD, A THREE-YEAR CHILD, EIGHTEEN HUNDRED, FORTY-THREE. Then, O spirits, did I say, ye who rode so fast that day, Toll slowly. Did star-wheels and angel wings with their holy winnowings Keep beside you all the way? Though in passion ye would dash with a blind and heavy crash, Toll slowly. Up against the thick-bossed shield of God's judgment in the field,— Though your heart and brain were rash,— Now, your will is all unwilled, now, your pulses are all stilled, Toll slowly. Now, ye lie as meek and mild (whereso laid) as Maud the child, Whose small grave was lately filled. Beating heart and burning brow, ye are very patient now, Toll slowly. And the children might be bold to pluck the kingcups from your mould Ere a month had let them grow. And you let the goldfinch sing in the alder near in Let her build her nest and sit all the three weeks out on it, Murmuring not at anything. In your patience ye are strong, cold and heat ye take not When the trumpet of the angel blows eternity's evangel, Time will seem to you not long. Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang And I said in underbreath,—All our life is mixed with death, And who knoweth which is best? Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness, Round our restlessness, His rest. BERTHA IN THE LANE. PUT the broidery-frame away, Sister, help me to the bed, And stand near me, Dearest-sweet. Lean thy face down; drop it in These two hands, that I may hold Than mine were in my first youth. Thou art younger by seven years: “ Have I not been nigh a mother To thy sweetness-tell me, Dear? Child, be mother to this child"? Mother, mother, up in heaven, Stand up on the jasper sea, And be witness I have given Hope that blessed me, bliss that crowned, Love that left me with a wound, Life itself that turneth round! Mother, mother, thou art kind, That rays off into the gloom! Ghostly mother, keep aloof One hour longer from my soul, For I still am thinking of Earth's warm-beating joy and dole ! |