Down she knelt at her lord's knee, and she looked up silently,— Toll slowly.
And he kissed her twice and thrice, for that look within her eyes
Which he could not bear to see.

Quoth he, * Get thee from this strife,—and the sweet saints bless tby life !—

Toll slowly.

In this hour, I stand in need of my noble red-roan steed—

But no more of my noble

Quoth she, 'Meekly have I done all tby biddings under sun: Toll slowly.

But by all my womanhood,—which is proved so true and good,
I will never do this one.

v'Now by womanhood's degree, and by wifehood's verity. Toll slotuly

In this hour if thou hast need of tby noble red-roan steed.
Thou hast also need of me,

* By this golden ring ye see on this lifted hand pardie, Toll slowly.

If this hour, on castle-wall, can be room for steed from stall,
Shall be also room for me,

'So the sweet saints with me be' did she utter solemnly,) Toll slowly.

'If a man, this eventide, on this castle-wall will ride.
He shall ride the same with me.'

Oh, he sprang up in the selle, and he laughed out bitter well,— Toll slowly.
Wouldst thou ride among the leaves, as we used on other eves,
To hear chime a vesper bell?'

- She clang closer to his knee—' Ay, beneath the cypress tree !— Toll slowly.
Mock me not; for otherwhere than along the green-wood fair.
Have I ridden fast with thee I

'Fast I rode with new-made vows, from my angry kinsman's house t

Toll slowly.

What! and would you men should wreck that I dared more for love's sake
As a bride than as a spouse?

'What, and would you it should fall, as a proverb, before all, Toll slowly.

That a bride may keep your side while through castlegate you ride,
Yet eschew the castle-wall ?J

Ho! the breach yawns into ruin, and roars up against her suing,— Toll slowly.
With the inarticulate din, and the dreadful falling in—
Shrieks of doing and undoing I

Twice he wrung her hands in twain ; but the small hands closed again.

T0II slowly

Back he reined the steed—back, back! but she trailed along his track
With a frantic clasp and strain I

Evermore the foeman pour through the crash of window and door,—

Toll slowly.

And the shouts of Leigh and Leigh, and the shrieks of 'kill!' and 'flee!'
Strike up clear amid the roar.

'Thrice he wrung her hands in twain,—but they closed and clung again,—

Toll slowly.

Wild she clung, as one, withstood, clasps a Christ upon the rood,
In a spasm of deathly pain.

.—with her shudderine lips half

Toll slowly.

Her head fallen as half in swound,—hair and-knee swept on the ground.
She clung wild to stirrup and feet.

Back he reined his steed hack-thrown on the slippery coping-stone.

Trl L slowly.

Back the iron hoofs did grind on the hattlement behind,
Whence a hundred feet went down.

And his heel did press and goad on the quivering flank bestrode. Toll slowly.
'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 flame, Toll slowly.
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 at rest,—

Toll slowly.

'Ring,' she cried, 'O vesper-bell, in the beach-wood'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.
And 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,—

And 'Ring, ring,—thdu passing-bell, ' still she cried, 'i' the old chapelle !—

Toll slowly.

Then Back-toppling, crushing hack, a dead weight flung out to wrack,
Horse and riders overiell I

Oh, the little birds sang east, and little birds sang west,— Toll slmvly.

And I read this ancient Rhyme in the churchyard, while the chime
Slowly tolled for ons at rest.

The abeles moved in the sun, and the river smooth did rim. Toll slowly.

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, loll 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 spring, Toll slowly.

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 wrong: Toll slowly.
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 west. Toll slowly.

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 west, Toll slowly.

And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness,—
Round our restlessness. His rest.

THE LADY'S 'YES.'

'Yes I' I answered you last night;

'No!' this morning, Sir, I say. Colors seen by candle-light

Will not look the same by day.

When the viols played their best.
Lamps above, and laughs below—

iMve me sounded like a jest,
Fit for Yes or fit for No.

Call me false or call me free—
Vow, whatever lights may shine,

No man on your face shall see
Any grief for change on mine.

Yet the sin is on us both—
Time to dance is not to woo—

Wooing light makes fickle troth—
Scorn of me recoils on you:

Learn to win a lady's faith
Nobly, as the thing is high;