And the white flowing veil which swept athwart The sable tokens of her widowed state. And he would cry when weary of the chase, "Oh! the drear sadness of this lonely state, The vacant chamber where my mother spun, The vacant chair wherein my mother sate, She whom they say my father 'Constance' called ! [greet When shall these halls such other inmate As shall be fit to stand where Constance stood? No, that can never be: I'll hie me then Back to the chase, and in my hounds and hawks Find some poor solace for a mother's loss. To live unloved, to see no loving face, To feel no loving hand, to know no heart That beats and throbs responsive to one's Walked on the terrace 'neath the castle wall To greet the Count upon his natal day. And Gualtiero stood amid the crowd Conspicuous by gay dress and manly gait, And easy courteous bearing; and he spake Kind words of friendship now to this, now that, Waving his plumèd bonnet to the crowd. Stepped forth six burghers from the rest, and said, "Most noble Count, son of a noble sire, Nor a less noble mother's son, we crave Audience and due attention at thine hands. We were thy father's vassals; we are thine; And that allegiance that we paid to him Of Northern Lombardy or our Tuscan towns Would gladly call her Gualtiero's bride, Forbids me to ambition aught that is Of Gualtiero, be she who she may, He spoke: the burghers swore, and straight retired; [path The gay crowd parted, and the terraceLay lonely and deserted as in knots Of twain and three the burghers homeward paced, Much pondering in perplexèd wonder ment. And Gualtiero called his hound, and stroked His courser's arched neck, then as half in- To wish his words unsaid, stood in a PART II. On the grey slope of an Abruzzian hill, Where a steep bridle-path leads from the road To the grim convent's portal, and a cross Marks limit to the consecrated ground, Before this moon hath waned and waxed No! that were long to wait; this very eveShall be Saluzzo's Countess and the bride Of Gualtiero !" And no sooner thought Had passed into speech, than he declared Unto Giannuculo his love. "I read In this sweet maiden's features all I seek I am Saluzzo's Count; and in her eyes The marble of her forehead,-all, I swear, "You do much honour to our poor estate, Most noble Count; and if it be thy will To wed my daughter, let that will be done. Only I fear that she may climb too high, And take her seat upon a throne awhence One day her downfall shall more grievous be." "Fear not, my friend; but first, in order due, 'Tis fitting that I question her one word. I am Saluzzo's Count; I seek thy hand, Thy hand and heart; say, wilt thou bend thy will, Whole and entire, and in no stinted share, Unto my will obedient, come what may; Nor shrink to render service to thy lord, Who loves thee, but whose will must be thy law?" The maiden laid her pitcher on the ground; Stood for a moment half amazed and shy, Then looked to heaven, as though she would attest The saints to her resolve, and said "I will." He led her by the hand, and bade her strip [smock; Her poor apparel, save one threadbare Then called for richest garments, silken hose, Tunic and corselet, and a flowing robe Twelve months, twelve happy months have come and gone, And Gualtiero with a deep'ning love Harsh words he uttered in his angry mood: "What! can ye bear no son? In vain have I Sought out a bride in thee, if issue none Upon the bleak hill's side, to dogs and with me As best befits thy weal and happiness. As she sat one day Upon the terrace, playing with her boy, The father stern approached, and threatening spake. [true, Griselda, thou art pure, and good, and Nor ever hast thou failed in loyalty To me thy lord. My will is thine. 'Tis well It should be so. Then hear. My burghers Mutter in silence, or complain aloud, [all A humble peasant's child should be my heir, [that thou Their future lord. 'Tis therefore meet Give up this boy to share his sister's fate, And then return to that which was thy home Hard by the convent gate; Giannuculo Will give thee welcome, and his agèd heart Haply thou mayest cheer. Meantime my my soul [wilt, Yearns for a nobler mate. Say what thou As naked as thou camest thence to me. "Nay, good my lord, I bow Unto thy voice, thy word, thy will--my law. I bow, obedient; though it wrings my heart, My very heart of hearts, not to lay down The coronet thou didst place upon my brow, But the dear name of mother, and to see Thy henchmen bear the sweet fruit of my womb To perish on the hills. Nay, cast him not Unto the wolves, as erst-But nay, my tongue Shall ne'er give utterance to reproachful word. Gualtiero's wife shall ever worthy be Of her who was his mother. But my sonCast him not to the wolves, unless it be Thy will; and then thy will and God's be done. Yet ere I go upon my lonely road, A wife discrowned, yet scarce dishonoured, One word I crave. This crown, these jewels bright, This silk attire, yes, and this golden ring, With which thou didst espouse my maiden hand, I give thee back, for they are thine-no gifts, Ten years, ten weary years have rolled on; But ever-patient and without complaint, One summer morn, twelve years the very day Since that Griselda in her cottage home Had first beheld her lord-in hottest haste A horseman reins his steed before the door, Where sits Giannuculo in pensive mood. The Count, my lord and master and thine own, Hath sent to call thy daughter, fair Griselde, Hath granted dispensation for the deedGod's priest before God's altar shall stand forth And publicly proclaim our noble chief And need there is that every chamber shine Beswept and garnished, that the palace smile Resplendent, as befits a bridal day. Griselda's hands are not ill used to toil; Griselda's eyes will keep good watch and ward Over the kitchen and the banquet-hall. Say, shall she come obedient to my voice?" She swept the palace halls, garnished the floor, The couches, each familiar guest-chamber And now, what thinkest thou, Griselda, of my bride?" the Countexclaimed. "Sooth she is fair, yes, passing fair, and fit To deck these halls, as none afore her was. And, if she be as good as she is fair, You may reign happy in Saluzzo's halls, And hand your heritage to a long line Of noble sons, sprung from your princely loins. But oh! if I may breathe one prayer, I pray Thou mayst not rack this youthful maiden's heart As thou hast racked another's. Yet withal Thy will, my lord, and God's own will be done. Young is thy bride, and nurtured tenderly; I was a tougher sapling, and I knew To bend me to the storm, as one who learnt [schooled Life's fitful moods, and as a child was To hardships, ay, from earliest infancy. Yet stay-what mean this locket, and this cross? It is the same which twelve long years ago I bound about that neck-the neck of her, My first-born child! O God and saints of heaven! Do I yet see my own, my long-lost child? And by her side, so like their father's face, Her brother? or does sight bemock my heart, My mother's heart, or is it all a dream? God's will ana Gualtiero's will be done!" She spoke, and swooning, sank upon the ground. Then rose the Count, and every lip was still, Hushed in amazing silence; and he spoke: "Ye burghers of Saluzzo, trusty friends, Worshipful sirs, ye see before ye here Griselda, my most spotless, noblest bride. This lady who hath stepped from off her steed, |