I know that he will not fail me, So I count every hour chime, Every throb of my own heart's beating, That tells of the flight of Time.

On the day of my birth he plighted His kingly word to me:- I have seen him in dreams so often, That I know what his smile must be.

I have toiled through the sunny woodland, Through fields that basked in the light; And through the lone paths in the forest I crept in the dead of night.

I will not fear at his coming, Although I must meet him alone; He will look in my eyes so gently, And take my hand in his own.

Like a dream all my toil will vanish, When I lay my head on his breast-- But the journey is very weary, And he only can give me rest!

VERSE: FIDELIS

You have taken back the promise That you spoke so long ago; Taken back the heart you gave me-- I must even let it go.

Where Love once has breathed, Pride dieth: So I struggled, but in vain, First to keep the links together, Then to piece the broken chain.

But it might not be--so freely All your friendship I restore, And the heart that I had taken As my own for evermore.

No shade of reproach shall touch you, Dread no more a claim from me-- But I will not have you fancy That I count myself as free.

I am bound by the old promise; What can break that golden chain?

Not even the words that you have spoken, Or the sharpness of my pain: Do you think, because you fail me And draw back your hand to-day, That from out the heart I gave you My strong love can fade away?

It will live. No eyes may see it; In my soul it will lie deep, Hidden from all; but I shall feel it Often stirring in its sleep.

So remember, that the friendship Which you now think poor and vain, Will endure in hope and patience, Till you ask for it again.

Perhaps in some long twilight hour, Like those we have known of old, When past shadows gather round you, And your present friends grow cold, You may stretch your hands out towards me,-- Ah! you will--I know not when-- I shall nurse my love and keep it Faithfully, for you, till then.

VERSE: A SHADOW

What lack the valleys and mountains That once were green and gay?

What lack the babbling fountains?

Their voice is sad to-day.

Only the sound of a voice, Tender and sweet and low, That made the earth rejoice, A year ago!

What lack the tender flowers?

A shadow is on the sun: What lack the merry hours, That I long that they were done?

Only two smiling eyes, That told of joy and mirth: They are shining in the skies, I mourn on earth!

What lacks my heart, that makes it So weary and full of pain, That trembling Hope forsakes it, Never to come again?

Only another heart, Tender and all mine own, In the still grave it lies; I weep alone!

VERSE: THE SAILOR BOY

My Life you ask of? why, you know Full soon my little Life is told; It has had no great joy or woe, For I am only twelve years old.

Ere long I hope I shall have been On my first voyage, and wonders seen.

Some princess I may help to free From pirates, on a far-off sea; Or, on some desert isle be left, Of friends and shipmates all bereft.

For the first time I venture forth, From our blue mountains of the north.

My kinsman kept the lodge that stood Guarding the entrance near the wood, By the stone gateway grey and old, With quaint devices carved about, And broken shields; while dragons bold Glared on the common world without; And the long trembling ivy spray Half hid the centuries' decay.

In solitude and silence grand The castle towered above the land: The castle of the Earl, whose name (Wrapped in old b.l.o.o.d.y legends) came Down through the times when Truth and Right Bent down to armed Pride and Might.

He owned the country far and near; And, for some weeks in every year, (When the brown leaves were falling fast And the long, lingering autumn pa.s.sed,) He would come down to hunt the deer, With hound and horse in splendid pride.

The story lasts the live-long year, The peasant's winter evening fills, When he is gone and they abide In the lone quiet of their hills.

I longed, too, for the happy night, When, all with torches flaring bright, The crowding villagers would stand, A patient, eager, waiting band, Until the signal ran like flame-- "They come!" and, slackening speed, they came.

Outriders first, in pomp and state, Pranced on their horses through the gate; Then the four steeds as black as night, All decked with trappings blue and white, Drew through the crowd that opened wide, The Earl and Countess side by side.

The stern grave Earl, with formal smile And glistening eyes and stately pride, Could ne'er my childish gaze beguile From the fair presence by his side.

The lady's soft sad glance, her eyes, (Like stars that shone in summer skies,) Her pure white face so calmly bent, With gentle greetings round her sent Her look, that always seemed to gaze Where the blue past had closed again Over some happy shipwrecked days, With all their freight of love and pain: She did not even seem to see The little lord upon her knee.

And yet he was like angel fair, With rosy cheeks and golden hair, That fell on shoulders white as snow: But the blue eyes that shone below His cl.u.s.tering rings of auburn curls, Were not his mother's, but the Earl's.

I feared the Earl, so cold and grim, I never dared be seen by him.

When through our gate he used to ride, My kinsman Walter bade me hide; He said he was so stern.

So, when the hunt came past our way, I always hastened to obey, Until I heard the bugles play The notes of their return.

But she--my very heart-strings stir Whene'er I speak or think of her-- The whole wide world could never see A n.o.ble lady such as she, So full of angel charity.

Strange things of her our neighbours told In the long winter evenings cold, Around the fire. They would draw near And speak half-whispering, as in fear; As if they thought the Earl could hear Their treason 'gainst his name.

They thought the story that his pride Had stooped to wed a low-born bride, A stain upon his fame.

Some said 'twas false; there could not be Such blot on his n.o.bility: But others vowed that they had heard The actual story word for word, From one who well my lady knew, And had declared the story true.

In a far village, little known, She dwelt--so ran the tale--alone.

A widowed bride, yet, oh! so bright, Shone through the mist of grief, her charms; They said it was the loveliest sight-- She with her baby in her arms.

The Earl, one summer morning, rode By the sea-sh.o.r.e where she abode; Again he came--that vision sweet Drew him reluctant to her feet.

Fierce must the struggle in his heart Have been, between his love and pride, Until he chose that wondrous part, To ask her to become his bride.

Yet, ere his n.o.ble name she bore, He made her vow that nevermore She would behold her child again, But hide his name and hers from men.

The trembling promise duly spoken, All links of the low past were broken; And she arose to take her stand Amid the n.o.bles of the land.

Then all would wonder--could it be That one so lowly born as she, Raised to such height of bliss, should seem Still living in some weary dream?

'Tis true she bore with calmest grace The honours of her lofty place, Yet never smiled, in peace or joy, Not even to greet her princely boy.

She heard, with face of white despair, The cannon thunder through the air, That she had given the Earl an heir.

Nay, even more, (they whispered low, As if they scarce durst fancy so,) That, through her lofty wedded life, No word, no tone, betrayed the wife.

Her look seemed ever in the past; Never to him it grew more sweet; The self-same weary glance she cast Upon the grey-hound at her feet, As upon him, who bade her claim The crowning honour of his name.

This gossip, if old Walter heard, He checked it with a scornful word: I never durst such tales repeat; He was too serious and discreet To speak of what his lord might do; Besides, he loved my lady too.

And many a time, I recollect, They were together in the wood; He, with an air of grave respect, And earnest look, uncovered stood.

And though their speech I never heard, (Save now and then a louder word,) I saw he spake as none but one She loved and trusted, durst have done; For oft I watched them in the shade That the close forest branches made, Till slanting golden sunbeams came And smote the fir-trees into flame, A radiant glory round her lit, Then down her white robes seemed to flit, Gilding the brown leaves on the ground, And all the waving ferns around.

While by some gloomy pine she leant And he in earnest talk would stand, I saw the tear-drops, as she bent, Fall on the flowers in her hand.-- Strange as it seemed and seems to be, That one so sad, so cold as she, Could love a little child like me-- Yet so it was. I never heard Such tender words as she would say, And murmurs, sweeter than a word, Would breathe upon me as I lay.

While I, in smiling joy, would rest, For hours, my head upon her breast.

Our neighbours said that none could see In me the common childish charms, (So grave and still I used to be,) And yet she held me in her arms, In a fond clasp, so close, so tight-- I often dream of it at night.

She bade me tell her all--no other My childish thoughts e'er cared to know: For I--I never knew my mother; I was an orphan long ago.

And I could all my fancies pour, That gentle loving face before.