Down the lane Betwixt the hedging bodies of the crowd, [Part of line lost.] . . . . majesty [Part of line lost.] . . a spirit pacing on the top Of springy clouds, and bore straight on toward The Duke. On him her eyes burned steadily With such gray fires of heaven-hot command As Dawn burns Night away with, and she held Her white forefinger quivering aloft At greatest arm's-length of her dainty arm, In menace sweeter than a kiss could be And terribler than sudden whispers are That come from lips unseen, in sunlit room.

So with the spell of all the Powers of Sense That e'er have swayed the savagery of hot blood Raying from her whole body beautiful, She held the eyes and wills of all the crowd.

Then from the numbed hand of him that cut, The knife dropped down, and the quick fool stole in And s.n.a.t.c.hed and deftly severed all the withes Unseen, and Jacques burst forth into the crowd, And then the ma.s.s completed the long breath They had forgot to draw, and surged upon The centre where the maiden stood with sound Of mult.i.tudes of blessings, and Lord Raoul Rode homeward, silent and most pale and strange, Deep-wrapt in moody fits of hot and cold.

(End of Chapter V.) . . . . . . .

____ Macon, Georgia, 1868.

Song for "The Jacquerie".

May the maiden, Violet-laden Out of the violet sea, Comes and hovers Over lovers, Over thee, Marie, and me, Over me and thee.

Day the stately, Sunken lately Into the violet sea, Backward hovers Over lovers, Over thee, Marie, and me, Over me and thee.

Night the holy, Sailing slowly Over the violet sea, Stars uncovers Over lovers, Stars for thee, Marie, and me, Stars for me and thee.

____ Macon, Georgia, 1868.

Song for "The Jacquerie".

Betrayal.

The sun has kissed the violet sea, And burned the violet to a rose.

O Sea! wouldst thou not better be Mere violet still? Who knows? who knows?

Well hides the violet in the wood: The dead leaf wrinkles her a hood, And winter's ill is violet's good; But the bold glory of the rose, It quickly comes and quickly goes -- Red petals whirling in white snows, Ah me!

The sun has burnt the rose-red sea: The rose is turned to ashes gray.

O Sea, O Sea, mightst thou but be The violet thou hast been to-day!

The sun is brave, the sun is bright, The sun is lord of love and light; But after him it cometh night.

Dim anguish of the lonesome dark! -- Once a girl's body, stiff and stark, Was laid in a tomb without a mark, Ah me!

____ Macon, Georgia, 1868.

Song for "The Jacquerie".

The hound was cuffed, the hound was kicked, O' the ears was cropped, o' the tail was nicked, (All.) Oo-hoo-o, howled the hound.

The hound into his kennel crept; He rarely wept, he never slept.

His mouth he always open kept Licking his bitter wound, The hound, (All.) U-lu-lo, HOWLED THE HOUND.

A star upon his kennel shone That showed the hound a meat-bare bone.

(All.) O hungry was the hound!

The hound had but a churlish wit.

He seized the bone, he crunched, he bit.

"An thou wert Master, I had slit Thy throat with a huge wound,"

Quo' hound.

(All.) O, angry was the hound.

The star in castle-window shone, The Master lay abed, alone.

(All.) Oh ho, why not? quo' hound.

He leapt, he seized the throat, he tore The Master, head from neck, to floor, And rolled the head i' the kennel door, And fled and salved his wound, Good hound!

(All.) U-lu-lo, HOWLED THE HOUND.

____ Macon, Georgia, 1868.

The Golden Wedding of Sterling and Sarah Lanier, September 27, 1868.

By the Eldest Grandson.

A rainbow span of fifty years, Painted upon a cloud of tears, In blue for hopes and red for fears, Finds end in a golden hour to-day.

Ah, YOU to our childhood the legend told, "At the end of the rainbow lies the gold,"

And now in our thrilling hearts we hold The gold that never will pa.s.s away.

Gold crushed from the quartz of a crystal life, Gold hammered with blows of human strife, Gold burnt in the love of man and wife, Till it is pure as the very flame: Gold that the miser will not have, Gold that is good beyond the grave, Gold that the patient and the brave Ama.s.s, neglecting praise and blame.

O golden hour that caps the time Since, heart to heart like rhyme to rhyme, You stood and listened to the chime Of inner bells by spirits rung, That tinkled many a secret sweet Concerning how two souls should meet, And whispered of Time's flying feet With a most piquant silver tongue.

O golden day, -- a golden crown For the kingly heads that bowed not down To win a smile or 'scape a frown, Except the smile and frown of Heaven!

Dear heads, still dark with raven hair; Dear hearts, still white in spite of care; Dear eyes, still black and bright and fair As any eyes to mortals given!

Old parents of a restless race, You miss full many a bonny face That would have smiled a filial grace Around your Golden Wedding wine.

But G.o.d is good and G.o.d is great.

His will be done, if soon or late.

Your dead stand happy in yon Gate And call you blessed while they shine.

So, drop the tear and dry the eyes.

Your rainbow glitters in the skies.

Here's golden wine: young, old, arise: With cups as full as our souls, we say: "Two Hearts, that wrought with smiles through tears This rainbow span of fifty years, Behold how true, true love appears True gold for your Golden Wedding day!"

____ Macon, Georgia, September, 1868.

Strange Jokes.